Last Kiss

I still remember the look on your face
Lit through the darkness at 1:58

She would never forget the moment he walked back into their lives - for good, she had thought.

She had wondered who could be at their door so late. She never even paused to think that it could be him. When she saw him on her doorstep again, her heart nearly broke.

His face was lit only by the porch light, but she could still see everything. The magnitude of what he'd been through, how much pain he was in, how much he'd lost - but most of all, how hard he was trying to keep it together.

The only thing she could think to do was open her arms.

The words that you whispered
For just us to know
You told me you loved me
So why did you go
Away, away

He'd never told her he loved her. He'd never told Ben. But she could see it in the way he looked at them. Sometimes, she even saw the sadness leave his eyes for a moment.

She'd woken late one night, in his arms, too comfortable - too safe, warm - to move or stir. She'd felt his breath brush her face, and at first assumed it was the regular breathing of a sleeping man. As she woke further, however, she noticed there was a pattern. And sound. He was whispering.

"I love you," she could make out. "And I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. Either of you."

Dean was a tortured man. She knew he could never love her or Ben like he'd loved his brother and father. They would never be as good as his first family.

But they could be a family.

I do recall now the smell of the rain
Fresh on the pavement
I ran off the plane
That July 9th
The beat of your heart
It jumps through your shirt
I can still feel your arms

"I, um - "

"Dean, you got us this trip. Come on."

"Yeah, it won't be fun without you," Ben chimed in.

Dean looked out the window at the plane. He felt Lisa take his hand.

"It's just a few hours. We'll be with you the whole time." She reached into his bag. "And you brought your Metallica CD."

"Yeah, yeah, okay." He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him. His grip was rather firm, but not painful. She could feel his pulse race so she rubbed small circles on his back. He held her hand nearly the whole flight.

So I'll go sit on the floor
Wearing your clothes

She was going through her dresser drawers when she found it. One of his shirts - a dark green plaid. She paused a moment before making a move to throw it out, to add it to the good will pile, but the movement stirred his scent.

Tears sprung to her eyes and she tried to shake them off. She walked to the bed, to the pile of discarded clothes, but couldn't bring herself to let go of the shirt. She'd already let go of him - more than once. She'd told herself this one was final. But there was a small part of her that was praying for him to come back, if even for a little while.

And it was that part of her that fell to the floor clutching his shirt to her.

All that I know is I don't know
How to be something you miss

Sam would always come first. Even in death. Lisa knew that and always had. It hadn't matter much because there was nothing they could really do. She knew about the late nights and ritual research, but she also knew Dean had begun to give up. He'd exhausted nearly every lead.

But when she and Ben had come home from that movie to find him distressed and holding a gun, everything changed. Looking over his shoulder, she saw Sam and felt her heart fall to her feet. Deep down, she knew it was over then. She just couldn't help hanging on to the best thing she'd ever known.

Never thought we'd have a last kiss
Never imagined we'd end like this
Your name, forever the name on my lips

She'd ended it over the phone. She didn't mean to, that was just how it happened. He was never home, and after he'd shown up late that one night, he wouldn't call. She didn't even noticed she'd told him not to come back until after she hung up. She'd stared at her phone for nearly a full minute in shock.

She wasn't nearly as surprised to find him banging on her door about a month later. He came back. He always came back. Dammit.

"A doctor," he scoffed. "How respectable."

She cut him off without a second thought. That hadn't been their relationship and it never would be - no petty jealousy. Their feelings went deeper. Maybe it was Ben, maybe it was the things they knew that others couldn't dream of, maybe the constant hovering sense of fear. But she knew his comment was a mask.

What he didn't know was that she needed respectable, she needed clean, presentable, honest, sophisticated… Anything else reminded her of him.

She had said she was trying to get over him, that it was his fault she couldn't move on because he kept cropping up at their doorstep. But she knew she would never get over him. Hell, she knew she wouldn't get over him ten years ago. There was a reason she'd developed a "type."

Dean was always just lingering in her mind.

I do remember
The swing of your step
The life of the party
You showing off again

Eight years. Going on nine. It was almost nine years when he'd shown up at her doorstep again - Ben's eighth birthday.

She wasn't entirely sure what he'd been expecting to find - although she did have a pretty good idea. Yet she was positive he was not expecting an eight-year-old's birthday party, let alone her son's. But he had fit right in.

He'd taken a slice of the Hotwheels cake, completely nonchalant as the other moms gawked. He'd hit it off with Ben right away. So quickly, in fact, he was nearly convinced Ben was his.

When he'd asked, she'd almost wished he was.

And I roll my eyes and then
You pull me in
I'm not much for dancing
But for you I did

Soft, cheesy, romantic music was filling the living room. It was 11 pm, Ben had gone to bed. They sat on the couch, sipping cheap wine from relatively fancy glasses.

"Hey. Come on." Dean suddenly stood and placed his glass on the coffee table. He held a hand out to her.

"Dean…"

"Come on."

She laughed weakly and took his hand. Immediately, he spun her to him and they began to sway. She giggled and hid her face in his chest.

"Eh. Maybe that wine's stronger than we thought." She could hear the smile in his voice.

Because I love your handshake
Meeting my father

Dean had always had great people skills. She supposed it came with the job - traveling from town to town, pulling fake IDs and making it seem natural. His handshake was always firm and sure - it never wavered, not once.

He'd wanted a job as soon as possible. She'd told him it wasn't a good idea, that he'd been through hell - almost literally - and it wasn't a bad idea to rest and figure things out for a while. But he'd been adamant. He couldn't sit around all day just thinking. She knew that wasn't him. So she introduced him to Sid, their neighbor.

And even though he'd lost his brother less than a week ago, even though he was a shell of a person, even though he was broken, his hand was firm and still as he shook Sid's.

I love how you walk with
Your hands in your pockets

When Dean had first shown up on their doorstep, Ben was still in school and she still had yoga classes to teach. He'd waved her off the next morning, claiming he was fine, that he'd stay in. She was skeptical and thought more than once about calling in sick, but he demanded. She made sure there was enough food in the kitchen and she left him watching television. When she came home that afternoon, he hadn't moved, but the television was off.

She sent Ben up to his room and sat on the couch next to Dean. When she laid a hand on his shoulder, he almost jumped, as if she'd woken him.

"Are you thinking about him?" she asked gently.

He chuckled weakly and rubbed his hands on his jeans. "Not much else to do, is there?"

How you kissed me when I was
In the middle of saying something

"So Ben's at school and I've gotta pick up some food. What do you want for dinner?" she asked him, walking into the kitchen. When there was no answer, she turned and began to call his name. "De-" She was interrupted by his lips on hers.

She pulled away and smacked him on the chest. "What was that?"

"Nothing," he shrugged. But she saw his genuine smile and the twinkle in his eyes. Maybe they could be happy. Really happy.

There's not a day I don't miss
Those rude interruptions

He could remember the feel of her lips, how she often smiled into his kisses. He remembered the happiness in her eyes, how she loved to watch him and Ben, whether they were working on the truck or just eating dinner. He remembered each of her curves, how they blended together, how they fit with him.

The worst part was when he opened his eyes and she was gone.

So I'll go sit on the floor
Wearing your clothes
All that I know is I don't know
How to be something you miss

Searching through his duffle for a particular shirt, he came across a pair of jeans too light to be his. He pulled them out and simply stared at them for a moment.

He had no clue what to do with them.

She'd kicked him out of their lives - something he believed she should've done long ago. Keeping her clothes was silly and sentimental, and he really had no need for women's jeans. He didn't want to throw away perfectly good pants, but there was nearly no point in donating a single pair.

With his resolution, he loosened the fist he hadn't known he was clenching and let go the breath he didn't notice he'd held. He tucked the jeans back into his duffle for safekeeping. At least for a while.

Never thought we'd have a last kiss
Never imagined we'd end like this
Your name, forever the name on my lips

That call. He could never forget that call. The panic in Ben's voice, the sound of scuffling from a distance, telling Ben to jump - and then the silence. Calling his name, three, four, five times. Then that son of a bitch's British accent speaking his name, taunting him with his makeshift family - "What is it, your ex-girlfriend and not-son?"

He felt the rage build inside of him and knew it wouldn't end well. As Crowley spoke at him, Dean cursed himself for not taking precautions - giving them amulets or even getting them tattoos, teaching the about iron and shotgun shells of rock salt. He'd never wanted them to learn anything about hunting, but without him, they were defenseless. And it was because of him their defenselessness was exploited.

He had to fix it. Somehow.

So I'll watch your life in pictures
Like I used to watch you sleep

He freezes on the verge of crumpling the photograph in his hand. It's a small picture of Ben and Lisa, one he took himself. Its corners are worn from its stay in his jacket, but the image is in perfect condition.

And I feel you forget me
Like I used to feel you breathe

The photograph is the last thing he has of them.

"I - " His throat closed up on him and he swallowed hard. "I'm Dean." He waited for any shred of recognition to show in their faces. When none appeared, he continued. "The guy who - " ruined your lives, got you kidnapped and possessed, ripped your hearts apart, he wanted to say " - hit you," he finished.

He tucks the picture back into his jacket.

And I keep up with our old friends
Just to ask them how you are
Hope it's nice where you are

Dean considered keeping tabs on the neighborhood, just to make sure they're safe. But then he remembered everything that had happened to them was his fault. Putting as much distance between them as possible is his best chance at keeping them alive. So he takes it.

Now and then, he sees them. Lisa's kicking a soccer ball with Ben in the front yard. Ben's bike leans against the garage. Sometimes, Dean's there, and it's the three of them playing catch or tag-team football. But then he wakes up.

And I hope the sun shines
And it's a beautiful day
And something reminds you
You wish you had stayed

Lisa looks out the window as the weather forecaster predicts another ideal summer day.

"Hey Mom? I'm gonna ride down to the park see if the guys wanna play some ball or something, is that okay?" Ben asks. Lisa smiles and nods.

She turns back to the window and something catches her eye. Reaching out, she picks up the coarse, white grains and rubs them between her fingers. Rock salt. Mildly puzzled, she sweeps it into the sink.

You can plan for a change in weather and time
But I never planned on you changing your mind

Sam had always come first. But this time had been so, so difficult.

He had begun to give up by the time Sam found him. He knew Lisa never even hoped - Sam wasn't her brother, and she'd never brought anyone back before - but he had. He'd tried and searched and called, but everything had failed.

And then his brother was back.

No one had expected it. At least, not like that. They were building from ground zero, fixing the most perfect family they could manage, the three of them. They were doing so well.

Dean knew a part of Lisa had let him go as soon as she saw Sam again. Maybe a part of him had never really accepted her as the best thing in his life. Maybe that part never actually gave up on his brother.

Sam would always come first.

So I'll go sit on the floor
Wearing your clothes

Lisa finds an unfamiliar men's shirt in her dresser, too big to be Ben's. It looks familiar, but she can't picture any of her exes in dark green plaid. She tosses it to the foot of her bed, making a mental note to ask Ben if he wants it before donating it. Men's shirts have never really been her style.

All that I know is I don't know
How to be something you miss

Dean's fingers find the photo inside his jacket. Sam's in the passenger seat, so he can't really vent. He knows that the best thing to do is to forget them, just as they've forgotten him - but if he didn't want to remember, he would've had Cas erase his own memories as well. He told himself he wanted to remember them as a warning, not to get that close to anyone else who didn't hunt, that no one ever got out. So he could keep an eye on them, make sure the demons and hell bitches got the memo, that he wasn't with the Braedens anymore. But he knew the real reason was because he wanted to remember them.

Lisa's smile in the morning, Ben's excitement learning about car engines. Driving Ben to school and cooking breakfast by Lisa's side. It was something almost no hunter got. It was a family. A brief family, but a family all the same. And it was the evils and monsters that had ripped them apart. It gave him another reason to fight.

Lisa and Ben were the best thing that had happened to him, and they were taken.

Never thought we'd have a last kiss
Never imagined we'd end like this
Your name, forever the name on my lips

Dean hasn't cried since losing Lisa. He told himself it was all for the best, that everyone was safer. There was no reason for pain if they were happy and safe and alive. Sam was alive, he was alive and they were saving other lives, together again.

Sam had seen him cry before - hell, he was the only one that had. But never over a woman. Never over a family, never over a normal, domesticated, family life.

Lying in a cheap motel room in a terribly decorated twin bed, Sam asleep on the other side of the room, he finally lets go.

Not of them, no, never of them. Dean never wants to forget their smiles or laughs or favorite foods or twitches or favorite songs.

But the pain inside him is too much to hold any longer.

He cries silently for the family he had for a year - the family he could have had.

Just like our last kiss
Forever the name on my lips

The man hands her a paper and she reads the name aloud. "Dean Winchester? I'm sorry, who?"

Forever the name on my lips
Just like our last...