.

"Oh my God! You mean someone… someone 'human'… did this to you?" Lisa exclaimed when she realized that it hadn't been anything supernatural behind it at all.

"There were at least four of them!" Dean objected, feeling that she had underrated his ability to hold his own in any confrontation.

"We should call the police!" she said it before her brain had actually caught up with her mouth.

"What? No! No, no, no…" Dean stated in no uncertain terms. Not that Lisa knew he was wanted – in who knew how many States – for murder, armed robbery and impersonating any number of officers of the law. And there was the fact that he was technically dead – quite possibly a few times over by now! And all going well, he hoped she'd never find out.

"Oh, of course…" she sighed, because she did know about the insurance scams and credit card fraud. She'd come across a half dozen of his fake IDs, some credit cards and a health insurance card in the laundry once, when he'd forgotten they had been in one of his jacket pockets. She'd discovered his lock pick tools in his toiletry bag and once she'd caught a glimpse of his small arsenal (that was still safely tucked away in the Impala's boot) when he hadn't realised she was there. But it didn't take a rocket scientist to realise he'd had to survive somehow. She knew he wouldn't have been able to hold down a regular job and hunt at the same time, and she also knew it was unlikely anybody would be paying him for his services. Hell, most people wouldn't even know he'd been there, lurking in some shadow, to save their normal, unsuspecting arse. But he still had to eat, and he had to have some place to sleep, and even though she'd once seen him hustle pool, he could hardly survive on it. So yeah, she knew about the fraud, and stuff...

And if she really though hard about it, she could probably figure out for herself that his secret stash of weapons meant that he really was killing things… things that may once have been human, or masqueraded as human, and some who still were human but were now possessed. It was simply too mind blowing! She stopped herself from contemplating exactly what he did. She had already decided that she really didn't want to know…

But it made her realise just how different he was. He had always lived on the edge of normal, like the creatures he hunted; he was an outsider, looking in. The only time he was ever normal, at least after his mother had died, was only when he was pretending. She suddenly admired his attempts to live her kind of 'normal' Apple Pie life so much more. Only now, her kind of 'normal' had just thumped the living daylights out of him.

"But they shouldn't be allowed to get away with this! They could have killed you!" He may be able to protect her from the supernatural, but surely she should be able to help him find retribution for damages received from the 'normal'!

"Don't worry, they got what they deserved." He assured her. "Pretty sure they'll think twice about car jacking somebody else's car."

"Oh…" Although in reality she already knew he would have given far worse than he received. There was no way he'd ever let anyone steal his car. Certainly hadn't this time, because he had come home in his 'Baby'. The Impala was now parked, somewhat askew, half way onto the front lawn, only just having missed knocking over her letter box.

Dean grunted a little as he tried to stand up again. "Police aren't likely to do much about it anyway." he muttered, wincing as his ribs protested the move. "I'm sorry about dinner, though."

Lisa slipped her hand under his arm and helped him to stand. This time Dean accepted her assistance, even letting her take some of his weight as she helped guide him to his feet. She wasn't sure just how to keep a firm grip upon him or where to hold him though, without aggravating his injuries. He was stripped down to just his boxers, and it left none of his injuries to the imagination. His torso was a mess of angry, red welts, abrasions and a mass of bruises. She could feel his whole body trembling, ever so slightly, under her touch.

"Don't worry about dinner." she replied, tucking her arm under his to help steady him. "Arthur's a bit of a pompous gas-bag anyway. We probably would have spent the whole night listening to how great he thought he was. He would have bored you to sleep."

"Yeah? Speaking of sleep… I really think I'm ready to hit the sack now." Dean muttered, feeling all the weariness of his battered body as he slowly succumbed to the pain and exhaustion of his injuries. Maybe he was starting to sober up. He shifted forwards, once he felt confident in his ability to get one foot in front of the other, without face-planting… again

"But you shouldn't sleep with a head injury, should you?" Her anxiety jacked up a little more. He probably shouldn't have consumed quite so much alcohol either... What if he died in his sleep!

"I'm ok, Lisa." Dean insisted even though his head was still spinning, and thumping out some Marching Band beat. Maybe he was still drunk after all. "It's no great biggie!"

Lisa wasn't so sure. She stared at him with an expression that said far more than her brief words: she didn't believe him for a second. "So you keep saying and yet, you just feinted!"

"Feinted?" he grunted in incredulity. "No. I don't feint! Ever!"

"I think your face may debate that." She huffed.

Dean poked at his swollen lip, thankful that he hadn't managed to knock his teeth out. "Just stood up too fast…" he justified, "I didn't… I just…"

"Feinted?" She finished his meandering defence for him. But then she knew he would probably shrug her concerns off, play all 'I'm ok' and deny that anything was wrong.

"No!" he sighed softly, but she still wasn't buying it. "Ok… maybe I kind of… blacked out. But just for a second!" Probably just drank too much…

"Exactly!" she snapped at him. "And you went down pretty hard! But even before that, judging by the state of your face, and that gash, you must have hit your head pretty hard on something!" Like some guy's fist maybe, or a boot, maybe the ground, or the car. "I mean feinting, sorry – 'passing out' – can't be a good sign. What if… I mean… you could have bleeding on the brain, or something?"

"I'm ok, Lis, really." He tried to convince her, but decided against blaming it on the vodka. She'd only blame herself for letting him get plastered, and therefore for his 'black out'.

"But, how do you know, for sure?" Her face seemed pale in the hallway lighting. She bit on her lip, illustrating her obvious concerns.

Dean gave her what sounded like a soft chuckle. "Dean Winchester, born January 24th, 1979 in Lawrence Kansas." he said with all seriousness. "Today is Friday and we're in Cicero, Indiana."

"What?" She queried him; was he rambling? That could not be a good sign!

"Standard Concussion Questions." He replied. "Name, date of birth, place of birth, day of the week and where we are now." Or at least they were his dad's archetypal queries, maybe not quite Sam's usual. The younger Winchester's questions were more on the creative side like; 'First line of the Rituale Romanum?' or 'What goes into a hex bag to ward off a poltergeist?' And then sometimes Sam would screw around with him, depending on his particular mood. If the over-emotional Sasquatch had a chip on his shoulder, and was shitty with him, because maybe he'd taken a blow most likely headed Sam's way, then the before mentioned Sasquatch would always ask unanswerable questions like; 'Who was the fifth president?' or 'Who won Wimbledon in 2005?' or worse 'What's the square root of 169?' Then again, Dean always liked that one; it would make him snort with laughter as lurid responses crammed his head that had nothing to do with numerals; probably why Sam so often asked him that one in the first place! And when Sam was all emo-hyped and actually sympathetic, maybe a little guilty, he'd include questions about AC/DC, Metallica or Zeppelin; stuff Dean could answer even if he was comatose!

"Oh." She'd seen something like that on TV, although she wasn't really sure why the questions were so important. "And what does that mean?"

"Means I'm ok, Lisa, really." If Sam had been there he could have told her just that. "I'm not gonna die from some massive brain haemorrhage." Dean explained as they slowly made their way into the bedroom. "Take more than a bump to the head to take down Dean Winchester! Besides, I got a hard head…"

And, because he knew, without a doubt, that slipping slowly into a coma and then death, would be far too good for him. For letting Sam jump into the pit he deserved Hell Hounds… and blood and guts and gore… he deserved to be mauled and eviscerated… he deserved the pain and the torture… and he deserved to go back to Hell!

She nodded, reluctantly accepting his reasoning. But then who was she to dispute the notion? He was still the only one in the room with any kind of experience in Post Bashing Trauma, even of the Grand Theft Auto type.

"Ok then… let's get you into bed." She advocated as she pulled back the covers.

"You know, normally I'd take that as an invitation." He muttered.

"Normally, it probably would have been." She grinned mischievously at him as she eased him down to sit on the bed.

Only things weren't exactly normal...

"Are you teasing?" He rejoined and then hissed with pain when his ribs objected to his shift in posture. He muttered a few explicit complaints under his breath as he wrapped his arm protectively over his side. "Damn it!" he grunted once he had caught his breath again.

"Are you ok? You're not gonna 'feint' again, are you?" she queried, perhaps teasing just a little.

"Mmm funny!" he grinned, or possibly grimaced, once he was sitting. "Mmm ok, just give me a second."

He stopped her when she tried to help him lift his legs up onto the mattress. She knelt in front of him, waiting for him to explain his hesitation, hoping he didn't have to vomit, or really was on the verge of 'passing out' again. However he didn't say anything for a while, he simply reached out to her and slipped his bandaged hand across her face until it nestled beneath her ear and then his thumb stroked her cheek. He gazed at her for quite some time until he eventually smiled at her.

"Thank you, Lis." He said softly, his gratitude was apparent in his soulful expression.

"Yeah, you're welcome." She nodded. "Only, please don't make a habit of it!"

"I'll try not to." His hand tenderly shadowed her cheek, where he continued to run his thumb over her smooth, mascara streaked skin. "I don't deserve you, you know." He muttered.

She shook her head. There were a lot of things he didn't deserve. His whole damned life for one; the constant sacrifices, the ingratitude for his gallant deeds, the loss and the pain, the never ending injuries, the list was pretty much endless… but that he didn't deserve her, or the Apple Pie life she had to offer him was not one of them. "No, you deserve so much better." She informed him.

His eyes dropped then, in disbelief and his lip trembled with uncertainty. She realised that he really didn't think that he deserved anything good in life. It broke her heart to see him so… damaged.

"No." he eventually stammered. "No, I don't."

"Yes, you do!" she replied as her hands tenderly cradled his face. "You're a real, live Hero, Dean; like a cowboy in a white hat, or a knight in shinning armour… only you, you're a rogue in a black Chevy Impala. You save people, lots of people! You've sacrificed so much, and heaven only knows you've lost even more. What you do is amazing. You hurt and you bleed, and you never ask for anything in return! You deserve better because you're a good man, Dean Winchester, and you do good things."

"Not everything I do is good…" he admitted, he'd done a lot of bad things… very, very bad. Like letting his brother sacrifice himself… to Lucifer. Let him jump straight into Hell…

"Maybe… but then I'm sure you did it for a good reason." She whispered.

Dean shook his head. The reason was not good enough! Not by far! Sam didn't deserve Hell and he should have stopped him from making that sacrifice! And for that reason alone, if for no other, he didn't deserve to now have Lisa, and he certainly didn't deserve to be living the kind of Apple Pie life that Sam deserved!

"No, it should never have happened… Sam's gone and… it was all my fault. Everything was…" he whispered,

"What's your fault, Dean?" she queried him as she finally managed to lever his legs up onto the bed and encouraged him to lie back on the small mountain of pillows she'd placed behind him.

"Sammy… I should have stopped him, but I didn't." Tears welled up in his eyes and slowly trickled down his cheeks. "Now he's… he's gone."

"He's gone?" She figured he meant dead, but just couldn't actually say it. But, she still clung to the hope that maybe Sam was just in Ohio or something…

Dean nodded his head, but didn't clarify the statement. "I started it… I started everything."

"Started what Dean?" she queried.

He scrunched his eyes up to try and dampen the heartache. Maybe it was the vodka, maybe it was the pain and the exhaustion, but something about his churning emotions stripped away his rock-solid, defensive façades. He suddenly felt like he was made of glass; not just fragile and breakable, but completely transparent. It was as if she could see right in to his soul and suddenly he felt the need to reveal everything to her.

"The Apocalypse." Dean almost choked on the heart wrenching admission.

"The Apocalypse?" she repeated, just to be sure she'd heard right. Surely the Apocalypse, Judgement Day, and all that, only existed in the writings of the Bible… as some metaphor or something. Or in works of fiction… science fiction.

"I broke the first seal." He whispered softly.

"You broke what?" she really had no idea what he was talking about. She didn't need to know, was quite happy to remain oblivious to the horrors of his life. But she could see he needed to tell her. He needed her to understand what had happened. Perhaps he was expecting her to reject him, to condemn him just as he had already done to himself.

"The first seal… if I hadn't been so weak, then none of this would ever have happened." His eyes had a degree of pleading in them, for her to comprehend what had happened without him having to put his actions into words. But she was completely perplexed by his statement.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I don't understand." She admitted, tenderly running her hand through his hair. She wished she understood, she really did. "Dean, is Sam… is he… dead?" She whispered. She sought to clarify the statement; there had already been too many misunderstandings already for the night.

Dean nodded ever so slightly. "Umm… yeah, kinda, I guess… I don't really know." And he didn't. Sam was definitely in Hell, the ground had opened up and Sam had jumped in… and he'd pulled Adam in after him. Adam, the brother he'd never even known he'd had! Adam had actually died before Dean ever got a chance to meet him. He wasn't even sure it really was Adam, could just have been that dick-angel Michael just using him as a meat suit. Guess he'll never know now, because in one foul swoop he'd lost them both! But he wasn't entirely sure they had actually died. Not like Dean had when he was sent to hell; ripped apart by Lilith's hell hounds. So maybe 'dead' wasn't really the best term. Sam and Adam were certainly 'gone' though!

But Sam had died… such a long time ago, in a deserted ghost town, called Cold Oak. And that's kind of where Dean started to reveal his heart-breaking story…

Dean told Lisa all about his deal with Lilith to save Sam. He left out the more gory details though, like the hell hounds and all his recollections of Hell. He spoke to her about Castiel, Zachariah and Uriel (but not so much about Anna). He even told her about Chuck. And he explained about the seals and Lucifer and Michael. He told her about Sam and Adam, with as much truth as he thought she could handle.

Lisa listened to his tale, with sympathy and compassion, if not with awe and horror. She ran her fingers over the hand-shaped scar across his shoulder, astounded by the fact that he had actually been pulled out of Hell by an Angel.

"But if this Angel, Castiel, pulled you out… why can't he pull Sam out too?" She asked in all honesty.

Dean's face grew teary again. "I don't know. I've tried to ask him to… begged him even. I've even tried praying to him… but it seems Cas isn't answering me anymore. I guess I'm just not that important any longer."

But she realised just how special a man he was. A man who needed to find his place in the world once more, now that everything he had ever held dear had been taken away from him. A man who needed to be accepted and loved for the man that he was; a hunter, and a damaged one at that. She snuggled up next to him, leaning her cheek against his shoulder and draped her arm carefully across his chest.

When she didn't run from him, screaming accusations of lunacy or insanity Dean relaxed into her embrace.

After several minutes of silence between them, she sat up beside him. Her hands tenderly cupped his cheeks and she turned his face towards hers until he gazed back at her. He frowned a little, as she leaned in close to him and then her lips touched his and she kissed him, tenderly and lovingly. After a few seconds he returned her amorous kiss. She was surprised to find that the taste of blood on his lip was oddly indicative of him.

"I love you Dean Winchester…" she whispered to him as she pulled away.

His mouth dropped open in astonishment. Her softly spoken sentiment opened a flood gate of emotions. Tears welled in his eyes and flowed freely down his cheeks. Who'd have thought that a kiss really could make all the 'boo-boos' feel better, or fill his heart with warmth and loving!

He may have gaped and grimaced a few times, probably looked something like a goldfish, however he couldn't find any words to describe the overwhelming emotions that were racing through his mind; bewilderment, awe, surprise, perplexity, disbelief, relief… He was actually loved! A sentiment stirred deep within him, an emotion he'd never felt before, at least not for a woman. He wasn't entirely sure it was love… but it damned well came close!

She didn't need him to reciprocate her admission. She just needed him to know how she felt.

She studied his battered face; her eyes ran over the now sutured gash, neatly held together with green dental floss, quite possibly mint flavoured. She examined the collection of small grazes and red welts across his torso, which would surely bruise up over the next few days; his puffy, swollen eye certainly would. His nose looked a little swollen too, but she wasn't entirely sure if it was from the beating he'd copped, or his subsequent face plant, at least it had stopped bleeding. His upper lip was freakishly distended and blood continued to well up at the split in his lower lip as he spoke, and he possibly had a gash inside his cheek because there were still traces of blood in his mouth. His eyes lethargically attempted to keep her in focus, either because of the concussion or the vodka. She made a mental note to herself to give him a couple of paracetamol before he fell asleep: if for no other reason they would probably help with the hangover he'd have once he sobered up again. But above all else she noticed his lop-sided grin. For the first time his smile seemed genuine.

After alleviating himself of his heart's weighty burden, Dean started to feel whole again. Putting his loss and heartache into words, and sharing his pain with Lisa gave him a closure he had so far struggled to find on his own. For the first time, in a very long time, he felt that he could leave his past behind him. He could start again.

They spent the entire night wrapped in each others arms, until the sun's first rays of light heralded the dawn of a new day. They simply lay together, entwined in a comforting embrace, and basked in their mutual affections. Dean gazed at Lisa with renewed emotion. He savoured the warmth oozing from his heart and filling his entire body with a sense of contentment as he kissed her. She returned his affections with a yearning desire. Then she coveted his battered body with soft, gentle kisses, whilst her fingers caressed his chest with tender, soothing circles of longing. His dormant passions were ignited, and his growing desires craved to loose themselves in her offering. And although they didn't actually do 'it', certainly not in Dean's state, he most definitely yearned for her sexually… for the first time since Sam had… gone. And maybe he'd be up for it, just as soon as his ribs were!

And just maybe he could live an Apple Pie life… for Lisa and Ben… and for Sam.

But perhaps first he should check out the unexplained, freaky electrical storms they'd been having lately…

~~~~~oooOOOooo~~~~~

As the night sky was slowly painted in a soft pallet of pinks and oranges, outside Lisa Braeden's house a tall figure stood under a flickering street light, just as he had every night for the passing of two full moons. He wasn't sure why the man in the house seemed to draw him there, or why he hadn't as yet been able to approach the man. He had certainly been tempted to. When he saw the man stagger from the sleek black Chevy, obviously injured, long dead emotions stirred deep in his guts. Even though there was something about the man that seemed familiar some long forgotten reasoning held him back, made him feel that he did not belong in this man's life. Because all that he could recall, his entire memory, was of an eon of misery and despair, locked in Hell's deepest dungeon…

But that's another story!

FIN

~~~~~oooOOOooo~~~~~

Thank you for reading, I hope you have enjoyed this fic.

I'm sorry the last chapter was so long. It started of much shorter, but it just wasn't quite right - I hope it is now. Its been reworked quite a lot, I hope for the better.

chrissymi :D