This is a re-write of one of my earlier fics. Hopefully I've managed to make a few improvements.

I do not own anything to do with SPN other than seasons 1-7 on DVD.

Ben finds Dean in the garage under the Impala. Dean slides out when he sees Ben's sneaker-clad feet appear next to his own and he looks down at Ben as he reaches for a rag to clean to oil from his hands.

"Mom wants to know if you can pick me up from Michael's tomorrow morning and then get Grandma on the way home?" Ben rubs his thumb over an invisible mark on the bonnet. He looks up when Dean continues to wipe at his hands without answering.

"You forgot about Grandma coming over tomorrow, didn't you?" His tone is amused, bordering on gleeful and he smirks at Dean's obvious discomfort.

Dean scowls and flicks the oily rag at Ben's head. "No, smart-ass," he says indignantly, "I didn't forget." He chucks the rag onto the workbench.

It's a few minutes before nine and Lisa is alone in the kitchen. Her first class doesn't start until ten and she takes a moment to revel in the silence.

Ben is at a sleepover and Dean's still in bed, which is strange because he's usually the first up in the mornings. She reaches for the coffee pot and decants fresh coffee into a mug to take upstairs with her.

Dean's lying on his side, facing away from the door, and she sits on the bed beside him and leans down to kiss his cheek. He rolls onto his back and looks up at her from under heavy lids.

"Hey," he croaks, pushing himself up so that he's propped up against the headboard.

"Are you feeling okay?" she asks, eyeing him critically. She reaches forwards to palm at his forehead. "I'm fine," he mumbles, swatting at her hand. "You don't feel warm," she tells him and she frowns at him. "Maybe should take your temperature just in case?" She makes a decision. "Stay put. I'm going to go get the thermometer."

It only takes her a few minutes to find the thermometer in the kitchen cupboard and she takes the stairs two at a time on the way back. She hands the thermometer over and sits at his hip as they wait for the timer to beep.

"Your temperature's normal," she tells him two minutes later. She folds her arms across her chest and gives him what Ben calls "the look", and he knows his plan hasn't worked.

"Get up," she says, swatting at his head.

Lisa's jeep is in the drive by the time he gets back from collecting Ben and Amanda. "Will you come outside and help me practice pitching?" Ben asks as the two of them walk up the path to the front door. "Ask your mom," Dean tells him, "She might want you to spend some time with your Grandma first."

Ben's never one to wait. He goes skidding into the kitchen to talk to his mom.

He's got his arms wrapped around Lisa's waist by the time Dean wanders through and he's pleading with her. "Fine," she tells him, ruffling his hair, "but only for an hour, okay?"

Dean can never say no to Ben and his puppy eyes. Spurred on by his victories, Ben wraps a hand around Dean's wrist and tries to drag him into the backyard.

Lisa is in the sitting room, going through an old photo album with her mother when Ben comes crashing in. "Mom," he pants, grabbing her arm, "You gotta come outside." She takes in the look of sheer panic that's gracing her son's face and starts to move. "Ben? What's wrong?" He's halfway to the door and he turns back, clenching a hand in her t-shirt to pull her faster.

"It's Dean," he says as he drags her into the hallway. "It was an accident, I didn't mean to..." He's breaking off into sobs and she stops and kneels in front of him, pulling him close to her chest. She releases him and holds him at arms length, eyeing him critically. "Are you hurt anywhere?" she asks him and he shakes his head frantically. "No, I..." She interrupts him, "Is Dean?" He grabs at her arm again and tries to pull her up. "I swear, I didn't mean to," he whimpers, "I never meant for it to happen."

Dean is leaning against the breakfast bar holding an icepack to the right side of his face, and Ben releases his grip on his mother to run to Dean's side. "I'm really sorry," he says and he sounds like he's seconds from bursting into tears. His eyes are glued to the icepack in Dean's hand.

"I'm fine, Ben."

Dean looks up, eyes travelling past Lisa and coming to rest on her mother, who is leaning against the doorframe, hands folded over her chest.

"Amanda," Dean acknowledges her. "Dean," she reciprocates and she turns her attention to her grandson. "Ben, come and help me in the sitting room, " she orders, extending her hand to draw him towards her.

He looks to his mother and Lisa nods. "Go on," she tells him and she watches him turn to look over his shoulder at Dean as his Grandmother leads him from the kitchen.

"Let me see," Lisa says and Dean lowers the icepack from his face. "Do I want to know how that happened?" She asks as her eyes flick upwards to the lump that's forming above Dean's eyebrow and he smirks at her. "Probably not," he confesses, "but I'm guessing you want me to tell you anyways." She grins at him and pokes at his chest. "Got it in one, Winchester."

He drops the melting icepack on the counter beside him and pushes himself up to sit on the worktop. "The short version is that Ben's got a hell of an arm on him," he laughs and Lisa looks bemused. "And the long version?" she asks and she leans against the wall across from him.

He drops his gaze to the floor and runs a hand through his hair. "He wanted to practice pitching for the game next weekend," he mumbles and she strains to hear him.

"And then what happened?" she asks, eyebrows raised and he scowls at her. "Isn't it obvious? He told me to think fast. The next thing I know I'm on my ass and Ben's screaming for you." She sniggers and color rises on his cheeks.

His eye is starting to swell shut and she moves forward to close the gap between them, her hand reaching up to cup his left cheek.

"Do I need to take you to the Emergency Room? You weren't knocked out, were you?" she asks and he snorts.

"And tell them what when we get there? That I had a fight with a baseball and the baseball won?" He grins at her. "Or that your ten-year-old managed to knock me on my ass?"

Her mouth quirks and she runs her thumb across his cheekbone. "Okay," she relents, "Your reputation as a tough-as-nails hunter is safe." There's a pause and she continues playfully, "For now."

Lisa is squeezing fairy liquid into a sandwich bag to create a makeshift icepack when her mom reappears in the kitchen. She sits at the breakfast bar and watches as her daughter seals the baggie and drops it in the top drawer in the freezer.

"So," she starts and Lisa turns to face her, "Ben's pretty upset." She lets her gaze drop to the band on her wedding finger and she starts to twist it as she waits for Lisa to respond.

Lisa sighs and leans against the closed fridge. "Yeah, I noticed. Where is he?" she asks and her mother looks back up at her. "In the sitting room. Where's Dean?" she asks and Lisa moves to sit in the chair next to her.

"I sent him upstairs to lie down for a bit. I think he has a concussion," she says and she pauses.

"Well, are you going to fill me in?" her mother asks curiously and Lisa grins at her.

"I believe it's called 'Karma'."

Dean is asleep when Lisa goes to check on him. She lowers herself onto the bed and reaches for the limp icepack hiding the mottled bruising on his face.

"Dean?" She shakes his arm gently and an eye cracks open to reveal a slit of green. "Wake up, I need to make sure you're ok." The slit closes. He groans and rolls onto his back, draping an arm over his face.

"I'm fine. Can I go back to sleep now?" She wraps a hand around his wrist. "No. How many fingers am I holding up?" His arm comes away surprisingly easily and she lets it drop to the mattress. She prods his shoulder when he doesn't answer.

"Answer the question and you can go back to sleep," she bargains and he scowls at her. "Two fingers and a thumb. Nice try." She grins at him and pulls the comforter up over his chest. "Just making sure you're paying attention. Go back to sleep."