Title: Hold Me Tight and Tell Me You’ll Miss Me
Rating: PG-13 // FRT
Characters: Dean Winchester/Lisa Braedan
Content Warning: Spoilers for 517: 99 Problems.
Summary: He thinks about her when he least expects it.
Author’s Note: Written for the spn_het_love Comment-Fic Meme. I hate Dean a little, for making me write this. I was trying to avoid this angst.
Disclaimer: Not mine. All belongs to Kripke. But dear God, please give Dean a happy ending.
He thinks about her when he least expects it.
He thinks of her when he’s on the open road, which is ironic, because that’s the only time he doesn’t really think. He gets behind the wheel of his baby to drive, and the rest of the world falls away, good and bad alike. It calmed him, and kept him focused on just one thing—get from point A, to point B. All he had to do was put his foot on the gas, and his girl would do the rest, but lately, that space from point A to point B had become rampant with thoughts of the girl he had left behind all those years ago, and the little boy who had clung to him with a kind of faith that most people didn’t have, not in him anyway. They were the kind of thoughts that used to lace his dreams, if Dean were the kind of person that dreamed anymore.
His dreams aren’t his own anymore. They stopped being his ever since Michael decided that he wanted to take a ride in Dean’s meat, so instead of dreaming, Dean fights for his right to choose, his right to hide. There aren’t many nights where his dreams were something that he wanted to see and when they weren’t an angel invading, it was usually because he was far too exhausted to bother. He remembered what it was like when he used to dream, though. He remembered how he would see himself back in Indiana, a small house with a backyard, and just family. Ben, and Lisa, maybe another kid. Something nice and normal, where there were no demons, no monsters—just the feeling of not being alone. He wanted that feeling, badly, because no matter how much Sam was there, Dean always still managed to feel alone. He hated that feeling.
Lisa was the only person who had ever asked him to stay. She offered her home to him, held the door open and told him stay here. You belong here. If he hadn’t been dead in seven months, he might have taken her up on that. Or maybe he would have run screaming. Lisa didn’t just ask him to stay once, though—she asked him twice. And if he had been a more confident man, he would say that the second time she almost begged.
But Dean didn’t have a choice. He knew that when he landed on her doorstep.
“Yeah, ya do. Ya do. You can come inside, and let me get you a beer.”
He had told her, but at the same time, she still didn’t really know. She didn’t know about the Hell that he had found himself mired in for the past few years. She didn’t know that there was no God to save them. There was no angel to listen. The fate of the world rested on the shoulders of the man who was so broken, so much not a part of this world that his last grasp for normalcy was a woman he shared a weekend with more than a lifetime ago. His normalcy was a little boy who wasn’t his, at least not as far as Dean was aware, but damn if he didn’t want him to be. Any man would have been proud to have been Ben’s father, and Dean wasn’t alone in that one. But mostly it was the woman; the woman who spent that perfect weekend with him all those years ago, where he laughed. He could remember laughing. It felt like something he hadn’t done in so long.
“Just come inside. Please. And whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t do it.”
She had a way of making it sound so simple. That there wasn’t the fate of the world resting in his hands, and that could just be taken from him if he crossed the threshold and let her get him a beer. He could pretend to be normal for an hour, two, hell, maybe even spend the night, but he knew at the same time, it would just make things harder. He would lose his nerve. Spend a night in her arms and think that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to say yes. He could feel the edges of that want, that need to be safe and normal for once creeping under his skin the minute that her hand slipped into his, and for a split second he didn’t want to pull away. He wanted to let her take him inside, pull him back together and promise him that everything was going to be okay. That there was some other way, some other road that he could drive down and it would lead him to the same conclusion, but he knew in his gut that there was no high road in this one. And at this moment in time, Dean couldn’t afford to have any illusions about how this was going to end for him.
If he went to the angels now, he might be able to save some of them. Sam, Lisa, Ben, Bobby, Cas—he could make arrangements. Say that Michael could have his sorry piece of a life if it meant that they were safe. Then he would let Michael do what he needed to do and hope that that statement that the angel would leave him as good as new would hold true, but he wasn’t counting on it. Michael was an angel, after all. What reason would an angel have to tell the truth?
So he let her go. Said his goodbyes and told her not to worry. She would be okay. Ben would be okay. Somehow, someway, at the end of the day, she would be happy. In those stray thoughts that crossed his mind, that was all he had ever really wanted.
He was just sorry that he wouldn’t be the one to do it.