spn fic: "not coming between" (5.22+, PG)
title: "not coming between"
author: fannishliss
rated: PG
warnings: spoilers for 5.22. Dean pov, Lisa, Ben
words: 2942
Author's note: this story takes place in late October 2010. Angel Quality of Healing.
disclaimer: This story follows on from the Promise verse. Comments and concrit are sincerely appreciated. Credit is due to the fantastic creators of Supernatural for the inspiration.
Summary: The Hunt was easy; the aftermath was the hard part.
Master List for the Promise 'verse (5.22+)
i. " not the burnt and broken" (Dean pov)
ii. " blind, without a blow" (Lucifer pov)
iii. " Ground Rules" (Lisa pov)
iv. " two-edged, golden, sanguine" (Sam in Hell)
v. " Keeping the Promise" (Dean and Lisa)
vi. " illumine our tempestuous day" (Sam's return)
vii. " dayenu" (Lisa pov)
viii. " shades of gray" (Sam and Castiel)
ix. King of the Crossroads (Sam, Castiel, special Guest!)
x. Tattoos (Dean pov, July)
x. The Hunt (Lisa pov, October)
tbc...
(NOTE: this series is nearly complete, except for several scenes with Dean that I'm currently drafting. No need to fear the dangling WIP!)
*~o~*
Somehow, life went on. To his shock, Dean liked the job at Arbuckle’s. It was good money, doing something he was good at -- though he had to admit, when the hybrids rolled in, he'd tended to show the whites of his eyes-- but any car that needed new brakes, belts, a pump, or some little electronic part indicated by the codes, was nothing he couldn’t handle. And of course, the Impala, pristine in one of the employee spots, roaring in her subdued way along the quiet avenues of Noblesville, or shown off to perfection on Cruise-In Saturday nights, brought a fair share of customers to the garage. Sometimes on a Friday night, when Ben was staying over with friends, Dean and Lisa went out for a beer with the guys from the garage, or some of the folks from Lisa’s yoga center, and he could have one or two drinks instead of getting wasted, and go home with the most beautiful woman in the bar, every time.
Lisa’s hippie friends didn’t throw dinner parties, but when there was a potluck she’d gently prod Dean until he came along. She'd make up a big batch of lentils with these delicious chunks of basil and salty cheese in them, and it was fine if Dean just stood around nursing a sweating beer bottle. If he got brave enough to speak, he'd dispense automotive advice or promise to lend out something from his growing collection of power tools, and people would nod and smile gratefully like he was some kind of expert.
Somehow, the confused jumble of hot days and stormy nights of that terrible summer mellowed to crisp, golden fall. On Sundays, because he knew he was supposed, Dean grilled, and little by little he had to admit, he did enjoy a sizzling ribeye or a huge half pound burger done up just the way he liked it. He’d sit on the deck and have a cold one with Lisa, and she’d clink her bottle with his, and in his heart he’d toast to Sammy, sounding the depths of the voids inside him with a torturer’s blade, but grateful for the promise Sam had asked him to keep.
That first Hunt had come upon them suddenly -- a series of obviously linked deaths, no other Hunters available. Lisa took Dean by surprise, asking Dean to let her back him up, but it worked out fine. Lisa posed as FBI, took notes, asked probing questions no one found odd, and generally helped Dean do one of the smoothest jobs he had ever done. It changed something for Dean, to realize that he could still do a job, do it well, and no one would die horribly, bleeding out in his arms.
In all his years of Hunting, Dean had never known anyone like Lisa. She acknowledged his past with an easy acceptance that astonished him, and her open heart seemed to bleed with his at the loss of his brother, even as she coaxed him (balking and trembling) into a new life. Dean had spent decades cut off from the rest of the human race by a seemingly unbridgeable gulf - the chasm his Dad had drilled into him about the divide between civilian and Hunter. Lisa strode across that divide like it was a backcountry stream; she simply shouldered her pack and plowed through it.
Hunting with Lisa, Dean had never tasted a victory so bittersweet. Hunting without Sam, it felt like he’d lost an arm, but then again, Lisa was a great partner, observant, smart, and careful. Over a three day weekend, they’d saved a family of five from a grisly death, easy as popping a diamond pendant into a box with a pair of tongs.
Dean was pleasantly startled by Lisa’s reaction that night, when she hung the “do not disturb” sign on the doorknob, pushed Dean back on the bed, and proceeded to redefine his understanding of “bendy,” staking a claim on him that he willingly surrendered.
He thought through a lot of things that night, as Lisa snored lightly beside him, smiling serenely into her pillow. He thought about what it meant to belong to someone, someone who wanted him, who’d freely chosen to make him a part of her life, who’d given him not just her heart and hearth, but a family.
He decided, that night, that it wasn’t enough to do the best he could. He had to do better. He had to meet Lisa more than half way, if he was even going to begin to deserve everything she had offered him.
Though the Hunt had gone so well, it was the aftermath that gave Dean trouble.
Ben was outraged when he found out that Dean had taken Lisa on a Hunt. Dean expected shouting, having dealt with Sam's emotional outpourings all his life, but what he got was a grievous cold shoulder. He mostly shook it off. To Dean, silence was a legitimate way of processing.
Ben was in sixth grade, and he went to Kim's Tae Kwon Do every day after school, where he sparred for a while, learned a smattering of Korean, hung with his pals, and finished up his homework. Lisa or Dean would pick him up when they got off work, and they rode home from Noblesville together most days. One big happy family, except that since the Hunt, Ben only had daggers for Dean.
It came to a head on a late October Saturday morning, two weeks after the Hunt. Ben came down stairs around 8:30, ignored the pancake batter Dean waved at him, and poured himself a bowl of frosted mini-wheats. He was growing tall; some days Dean thought it was like looking in a mirror, and Dean couldn’t quite put into words the feelings of hope and terror that gave him.
Lisa greeted her son with a kiss to the top of the head.
"Morning, babe."
"Morning, mom," Ben responded, a sleepy smile for his mother around his munching.
"Hey, I'm going to Annette's-- you wanna come, see what Katie's up to?"
Lisa's chipper question wiped the cheerful expression off Ben's face.
"Why," he said.
"Why what," Lisa said back.
Ben went back to chewing, but his brows were drawn together darkly.
"Suit yourself. Dean, you'll be home all day, right?"
Dean shook himself. "Oh, yeah. Errand or two, nothing major. Lots to do around here."
"Lots I never noticed till your critical eye came around," Lisa smiled. She gave Dean a smooch on the cheek, ruffled Ben's hair, and was out the door.
A heavy silence fell. Dean was scraping the leftover pancake batter into a container when Ben spoke.
"If she gets hurt, I'll kick your ass," Ben said.
Dean's eyebrows shot up. He finished with the batter, ran water into the bowl, and dried his hands on a towel.
"Okay, kid. Take your best shot," Dean said calmly.
Ben glared at him. "You took my Mom on a Hunt. For a cursed object. And now you're letting her train with Annette."
"Letting her?" Dean scoffed. "Are we talking about the same woman here?"
Ben ground his teeth, fire in his eyes. "Annette is a maniac. You know that."
Dean had to admit that dinners with Annette were a little tense. She and Lisa were really close, but after the changeling had taken Katie, and Annette had tried to drown the replacement in the reservoir, she had never really regained an even keel. She'd been training hard-core for several years, and though she wasn't an active Hunter, Dean wouldn't have wanted to stare down any of her array of legally registered, high-powered firearms.
Not that he would admit it to Ben. "Hey, I thought you liked Annette. You stay at her house enough."
"I like Annette fine. I don't want her for a mom though!"
That sent a pang through Dean. The honeymoon had faded between him and Ben after the kid had seen, tattoo or no, that Dean wasn't about to train an eleven year old to be a Hunting partner.
Ben had been ecstatic to be the first of his friends to sport ink, though Dean was somewhat ashamed to be the cause of marring the pristine skin of Lisa’s son with the same tattoo he and Sam both wore, with extra Angel-repelling Enochian. Lisa’s tattoo was slightly smaller, but with an extra blessing around it in Hebrew, and she had it placed on the back of her neck instead of over her heart - something about chakras that Dean didn’t quite follow.
Dean had walked Ben and Lisa through the salting and warding of their home. Lisa had had the house salted and smudged before she first moved in, and her mom had sent her a mezuzah she had faithfully installed at the front door, but Dean trusted what he knew for himself, so Lisa went along with him. He had drilled them on the basic Rituale Romanum till he was certain they could repeat it without missing a beat. Lisa still scoffed at the idea of her using a Catholic ritual, and Dean was sure there must be a Jewish equivalent, but he knew about three words in Hebrew, so Lisa was left to look through the Kabbalistic literature on her own.
Instructing Ben in no uncertain terms never to say Yes to any Angel completed basic training in Dean's eyes.
Ben was still disappointed that Dean wouldn't teach him to shoot, but Lisa was firm on the subject. The combination lock on the armory in the trunk of Dean's car was shut and spun, so that was that.
If he didn't want a Hunter for a mom, what would he think of a Hunter for a dad? -- much less, a washed-up ex-Hunter like Dean.
Abandoning that train of thought, Dean replied, "It's okay for you to chomp at the bit to Hunt, but it's not okay for your mom to learn how to defend herself?"
"Defend you, you mean!" Ben said harshly.
Dean felt his hackles rise, but he understood now why Ben was so angry.
"Look, Ben. I had to take that Hunt. People were dying, and I can't let that happen. It was your mom's decision to come along as backup, and I made her swear to skeedaddle at the first sign of trouble."
"Oh yeah? And what's your track record with that --- like she'd really think of herself first," Ben retorted.
Dean blanched, always aware of his long and damning list of failures at keeping the people he cared about from getting killed. Dean swallowed and tried to focus on the issue at hand.
"You have something against your mom Hunting, you take that up with her." Dean turned back to the sink, turning on the hot water to wash the breakfast things. His hands were shaking.
"Dude, I'm taking it up with you. She wouldn't be in danger if if weren't for you." Ben's voice was mean but matter of fact. Dean couldn't deny it -- but at the same time, it wasn't really true.
"Is that so. Did I invite a changeling into her house? No, wait, it was me letting you out of that cage!" Dean realized his voice was rising and tried to get a hold of himself, but Ben kept prodding.
"That was three years ago. And she hasn't let me train at all since then," Ben said.
"Not true. Tae Kwon Do is an excellent course. Better than soccer," Dean muttered.
Ben sat silent for a minute, dredging for more ammunition. "She won't let me learn to shoot," he grumbled. "I bet she and Annette and Katie go to the firing range today."
Dean was taken aback. Surely if Lisa wanted to learn to shoot, she would ask him instead of Annette? But Annette's guns were legal and she was well known at the range. While he was distracted, Ben went on.
"Or maybe they're just down in Annette's basement, beating the shit out of each other."
A tae kwon do purist, within a year of the black belt, Ben had a low opinion of the mixed martial arts and traditional hand-to-hand Annette picked up in the various gyms around Indianapolis.
"Dude, a rawhead's not gonna bow before it charges," Dean muttered, unable to stop himself.
"I know, okay? But you've got no business encouraging her!" Ben shouted.
Dean sighed. Tears stung his eyes, shameful but always right beneath the surface these days.
"What do you want me to say, okay? Your mom makes her own decisions. If you want her to throw me out, tell her. She says go, I'm gone."
Ben stared at Dean, still angry, and with a stubbornness Dean knew all too well.
"She's my mom," Ben said.
"I know that," Dean answered.
"What is she to you?"
Ben's voice was a challenge Dean couldn't ignore. He met Ben's angry eyes as steadily as he could.
"Dude, if it weren't for your mom, I'd be dead right now," Dean said in all seriousness.
"I thought you said the Hunt was safe!" Ben said, furious again.
"It was. I just mean... I hit rock bottom. She was there for me." Dean remembered how it had taken him days to make the twelve hour drive from Bobby's to Lisa's, what a mess he'd been, barely able to string a sentence together. Six months later, he had a job, a place, a chance to interact with other people like a real human being.
"I can't promise you that I won't Hunt. I see something that needs killing, and no one else is around, I have to do it. It's not a choice. But if you have a problem with your mom, you need to take that up with her."
Ben glared but went back to his silence.
"I promised her, the very first night I showed up, that I wouldn't come between you. That's a promise you oughta make too."
"To not come between you?" Ben's voice dripped with sarcasm.
"No -- to make her your first priority, like she does you. If me being around bothers you, you got to let her know. She loves you, man, more than anything."
"I know that," Ben said, but his tone was a little softer.
"Dude, you've been her whole world for eleven years. I'm just a flash in the pan," Dean said, and gave a sad little smile.
Ben sighed. The anger had gone out of him. "Nah. You make her happy. I mean, she's a happy person, right? But she used to be maybe a little lonely. She's happier now."
"You think?" Dean said hopefully.
"Yeah," Ben said. He had the upper hand now, Dean guessed, and was ready to give Dean the benefit of the doubt.
If being put to the bottom of the pecking order restored the peace, it was nothing Dean wasn't used to.
"I hope so," Dean said.
"I will kick your ass," Ben said, but the heat had gone.
"I know, man, and you'd be right," Dean said.
Later that evening, Dean rolled over in bed and told Lisa all he and Ben had talked about.
Lisa reached out and gently stroked the side of his face, and Dean pressed against her careful, capable hand.
"Ben's protective of me, and I get that. But I'm the adult. I get to decide what risks are reasonable and how to protect my family."
Dean took Lisa's hand and kissed the fingers. "I promised I wouldn't come between you and Ben -- "
"You haven't, Dean. I appreciate you bringing it up, but this is something I have to work out with him. I know he thinks Annette is a little extreme, but he's still had more of a fantasy of becoming a Hunter than a true picture of the reality. He really is too young -- and it's not like an eleven year old can pretend to be in law enforcement."
Dean smirked a little, thinking of that kid in Blues Brothers 2000 and picturing Ben in a suit.
Lisa snuggled a little closer to Dean, winding her foot between his ankles. "But he also needs to realize I just can't sit home if you hear about a Hunt. I won't throw myself in harm's way -- but what kind of woman would I be, if I let you go off alone?”
"You're a better woman than I ever hoped to find," Dean answered, wrapping an arm around her side and pulling her close.
She kissed him like he was a feast, like all the most delectable morsels she'd ever craved. Dean knew what it was like to be a trophy lay, picked up by some girl who signalled her friends with wicked eyebrows before strutting out on his arm, to be teased and cajoled by him as she lay back and enjoyed the ride. Lisa's appreciation of Dean felt different because it was tempered by affection. She knew Dean. She liked him, well enough to let him live in her house and irritate her boy. Maybe, even, she loved him. Dean fed Lisa every ounce of his concentration, responding to her slightest hints by giving her whatever she asked.
She pulled away breathlessly and he looked up at her intently, trying to convey with his eyes everything he could never put into words--gratitude, respect, the commitment he felt growing inside him in the place he kept special for family.
"I'm so lucky you found me," Lisa murmured, and cut off his denials with kisses, till the denials faded away and only pleasing her remained.
author: fannishliss
rated: PG
warnings: spoilers for 5.22. Dean pov, Lisa, Ben
words: 2942
Author's note: this story takes place in late October 2010. Angel Quality of Healing.
disclaimer: This story follows on from the Promise verse. Comments and concrit are sincerely appreciated. Credit is due to the fantastic creators of Supernatural for the inspiration.
Summary: The Hunt was easy; the aftermath was the hard part.
Master List for the Promise 'verse (5.22+)
i. " not the burnt and broken" (Dean pov)
ii. " blind, without a blow" (Lucifer pov)
iii. " Ground Rules" (Lisa pov)
iv. " two-edged, golden, sanguine" (Sam in Hell)
v. " Keeping the Promise" (Dean and Lisa)
vi. " illumine our tempestuous day" (Sam's return)
vii. " dayenu" (Lisa pov)
viii. " shades of gray" (Sam and Castiel)
ix. King of the Crossroads (Sam, Castiel, special Guest!)
x. Tattoos (Dean pov, July)
x. The Hunt (Lisa pov, October)
tbc...
(NOTE: this series is nearly complete, except for several scenes with Dean that I'm currently drafting. No need to fear the dangling WIP!)
*~o~*
Somehow, life went on. To his shock, Dean liked the job at Arbuckle’s. It was good money, doing something he was good at -- though he had to admit, when the hybrids rolled in, he'd tended to show the whites of his eyes-- but any car that needed new brakes, belts, a pump, or some little electronic part indicated by the codes, was nothing he couldn’t handle. And of course, the Impala, pristine in one of the employee spots, roaring in her subdued way along the quiet avenues of Noblesville, or shown off to perfection on Cruise-In Saturday nights, brought a fair share of customers to the garage. Sometimes on a Friday night, when Ben was staying over with friends, Dean and Lisa went out for a beer with the guys from the garage, or some of the folks from Lisa’s yoga center, and he could have one or two drinks instead of getting wasted, and go home with the most beautiful woman in the bar, every time.
Lisa’s hippie friends didn’t throw dinner parties, but when there was a potluck she’d gently prod Dean until he came along. She'd make up a big batch of lentils with these delicious chunks of basil and salty cheese in them, and it was fine if Dean just stood around nursing a sweating beer bottle. If he got brave enough to speak, he'd dispense automotive advice or promise to lend out something from his growing collection of power tools, and people would nod and smile gratefully like he was some kind of expert.
Somehow, the confused jumble of hot days and stormy nights of that terrible summer mellowed to crisp, golden fall. On Sundays, because he knew he was supposed, Dean grilled, and little by little he had to admit, he did enjoy a sizzling ribeye or a huge half pound burger done up just the way he liked it. He’d sit on the deck and have a cold one with Lisa, and she’d clink her bottle with his, and in his heart he’d toast to Sammy, sounding the depths of the voids inside him with a torturer’s blade, but grateful for the promise Sam had asked him to keep.
That first Hunt had come upon them suddenly -- a series of obviously linked deaths, no other Hunters available. Lisa took Dean by surprise, asking Dean to let her back him up, but it worked out fine. Lisa posed as FBI, took notes, asked probing questions no one found odd, and generally helped Dean do one of the smoothest jobs he had ever done. It changed something for Dean, to realize that he could still do a job, do it well, and no one would die horribly, bleeding out in his arms.
In all his years of Hunting, Dean had never known anyone like Lisa. She acknowledged his past with an easy acceptance that astonished him, and her open heart seemed to bleed with his at the loss of his brother, even as she coaxed him (balking and trembling) into a new life. Dean had spent decades cut off from the rest of the human race by a seemingly unbridgeable gulf - the chasm his Dad had drilled into him about the divide between civilian and Hunter. Lisa strode across that divide like it was a backcountry stream; she simply shouldered her pack and plowed through it.
Hunting with Lisa, Dean had never tasted a victory so bittersweet. Hunting without Sam, it felt like he’d lost an arm, but then again, Lisa was a great partner, observant, smart, and careful. Over a three day weekend, they’d saved a family of five from a grisly death, easy as popping a diamond pendant into a box with a pair of tongs.
Dean was pleasantly startled by Lisa’s reaction that night, when she hung the “do not disturb” sign on the doorknob, pushed Dean back on the bed, and proceeded to redefine his understanding of “bendy,” staking a claim on him that he willingly surrendered.
He thought through a lot of things that night, as Lisa snored lightly beside him, smiling serenely into her pillow. He thought about what it meant to belong to someone, someone who wanted him, who’d freely chosen to make him a part of her life, who’d given him not just her heart and hearth, but a family.
He decided, that night, that it wasn’t enough to do the best he could. He had to do better. He had to meet Lisa more than half way, if he was even going to begin to deserve everything she had offered him.
Though the Hunt had gone so well, it was the aftermath that gave Dean trouble.
Ben was outraged when he found out that Dean had taken Lisa on a Hunt. Dean expected shouting, having dealt with Sam's emotional outpourings all his life, but what he got was a grievous cold shoulder. He mostly shook it off. To Dean, silence was a legitimate way of processing.
Ben was in sixth grade, and he went to Kim's Tae Kwon Do every day after school, where he sparred for a while, learned a smattering of Korean, hung with his pals, and finished up his homework. Lisa or Dean would pick him up when they got off work, and they rode home from Noblesville together most days. One big happy family, except that since the Hunt, Ben only had daggers for Dean.
It came to a head on a late October Saturday morning, two weeks after the Hunt. Ben came down stairs around 8:30, ignored the pancake batter Dean waved at him, and poured himself a bowl of frosted mini-wheats. He was growing tall; some days Dean thought it was like looking in a mirror, and Dean couldn’t quite put into words the feelings of hope and terror that gave him.
Lisa greeted her son with a kiss to the top of the head.
"Morning, babe."
"Morning, mom," Ben responded, a sleepy smile for his mother around his munching.
"Hey, I'm going to Annette's-- you wanna come, see what Katie's up to?"
Lisa's chipper question wiped the cheerful expression off Ben's face.
"Why," he said.
"Why what," Lisa said back.
Ben went back to chewing, but his brows were drawn together darkly.
"Suit yourself. Dean, you'll be home all day, right?"
Dean shook himself. "Oh, yeah. Errand or two, nothing major. Lots to do around here."
"Lots I never noticed till your critical eye came around," Lisa smiled. She gave Dean a smooch on the cheek, ruffled Ben's hair, and was out the door.
A heavy silence fell. Dean was scraping the leftover pancake batter into a container when Ben spoke.
"If she gets hurt, I'll kick your ass," Ben said.
Dean's eyebrows shot up. He finished with the batter, ran water into the bowl, and dried his hands on a towel.
"Okay, kid. Take your best shot," Dean said calmly.
Ben glared at him. "You took my Mom on a Hunt. For a cursed object. And now you're letting her train with Annette."
"Letting her?" Dean scoffed. "Are we talking about the same woman here?"
Ben ground his teeth, fire in his eyes. "Annette is a maniac. You know that."
Dean had to admit that dinners with Annette were a little tense. She and Lisa were really close, but after the changeling had taken Katie, and Annette had tried to drown the replacement in the reservoir, she had never really regained an even keel. She'd been training hard-core for several years, and though she wasn't an active Hunter, Dean wouldn't have wanted to stare down any of her array of legally registered, high-powered firearms.
Not that he would admit it to Ben. "Hey, I thought you liked Annette. You stay at her house enough."
"I like Annette fine. I don't want her for a mom though!"
That sent a pang through Dean. The honeymoon had faded between him and Ben after the kid had seen, tattoo or no, that Dean wasn't about to train an eleven year old to be a Hunting partner.
Ben had been ecstatic to be the first of his friends to sport ink, though Dean was somewhat ashamed to be the cause of marring the pristine skin of Lisa’s son with the same tattoo he and Sam both wore, with extra Angel-repelling Enochian. Lisa’s tattoo was slightly smaller, but with an extra blessing around it in Hebrew, and she had it placed on the back of her neck instead of over her heart - something about chakras that Dean didn’t quite follow.
Dean had walked Ben and Lisa through the salting and warding of their home. Lisa had had the house salted and smudged before she first moved in, and her mom had sent her a mezuzah she had faithfully installed at the front door, but Dean trusted what he knew for himself, so Lisa went along with him. He had drilled them on the basic Rituale Romanum till he was certain they could repeat it without missing a beat. Lisa still scoffed at the idea of her using a Catholic ritual, and Dean was sure there must be a Jewish equivalent, but he knew about three words in Hebrew, so Lisa was left to look through the Kabbalistic literature on her own.
Instructing Ben in no uncertain terms never to say Yes to any Angel completed basic training in Dean's eyes.
Ben was still disappointed that Dean wouldn't teach him to shoot, but Lisa was firm on the subject. The combination lock on the armory in the trunk of Dean's car was shut and spun, so that was that.
If he didn't want a Hunter for a mom, what would he think of a Hunter for a dad? -- much less, a washed-up ex-Hunter like Dean.
Abandoning that train of thought, Dean replied, "It's okay for you to chomp at the bit to Hunt, but it's not okay for your mom to learn how to defend herself?"
"Defend you, you mean!" Ben said harshly.
Dean felt his hackles rise, but he understood now why Ben was so angry.
"Look, Ben. I had to take that Hunt. People were dying, and I can't let that happen. It was your mom's decision to come along as backup, and I made her swear to skeedaddle at the first sign of trouble."
"Oh yeah? And what's your track record with that --- like she'd really think of herself first," Ben retorted.
Dean blanched, always aware of his long and damning list of failures at keeping the people he cared about from getting killed. Dean swallowed and tried to focus on the issue at hand.
"You have something against your mom Hunting, you take that up with her." Dean turned back to the sink, turning on the hot water to wash the breakfast things. His hands were shaking.
"Dude, I'm taking it up with you. She wouldn't be in danger if if weren't for you." Ben's voice was mean but matter of fact. Dean couldn't deny it -- but at the same time, it wasn't really true.
"Is that so. Did I invite a changeling into her house? No, wait, it was me letting you out of that cage!" Dean realized his voice was rising and tried to get a hold of himself, but Ben kept prodding.
"That was three years ago. And she hasn't let me train at all since then," Ben said.
"Not true. Tae Kwon Do is an excellent course. Better than soccer," Dean muttered.
Ben sat silent for a minute, dredging for more ammunition. "She won't let me learn to shoot," he grumbled. "I bet she and Annette and Katie go to the firing range today."
Dean was taken aback. Surely if Lisa wanted to learn to shoot, she would ask him instead of Annette? But Annette's guns were legal and she was well known at the range. While he was distracted, Ben went on.
"Or maybe they're just down in Annette's basement, beating the shit out of each other."
A tae kwon do purist, within a year of the black belt, Ben had a low opinion of the mixed martial arts and traditional hand-to-hand Annette picked up in the various gyms around Indianapolis.
"Dude, a rawhead's not gonna bow before it charges," Dean muttered, unable to stop himself.
"I know, okay? But you've got no business encouraging her!" Ben shouted.
Dean sighed. Tears stung his eyes, shameful but always right beneath the surface these days.
"What do you want me to say, okay? Your mom makes her own decisions. If you want her to throw me out, tell her. She says go, I'm gone."
Ben stared at Dean, still angry, and with a stubbornness Dean knew all too well.
"She's my mom," Ben said.
"I know that," Dean answered.
"What is she to you?"
Ben's voice was a challenge Dean couldn't ignore. He met Ben's angry eyes as steadily as he could.
"Dude, if it weren't for your mom, I'd be dead right now," Dean said in all seriousness.
"I thought you said the Hunt was safe!" Ben said, furious again.
"It was. I just mean... I hit rock bottom. She was there for me." Dean remembered how it had taken him days to make the twelve hour drive from Bobby's to Lisa's, what a mess he'd been, barely able to string a sentence together. Six months later, he had a job, a place, a chance to interact with other people like a real human being.
"I can't promise you that I won't Hunt. I see something that needs killing, and no one else is around, I have to do it. It's not a choice. But if you have a problem with your mom, you need to take that up with her."
Ben glared but went back to his silence.
"I promised her, the very first night I showed up, that I wouldn't come between you. That's a promise you oughta make too."
"To not come between you?" Ben's voice dripped with sarcasm.
"No -- to make her your first priority, like she does you. If me being around bothers you, you got to let her know. She loves you, man, more than anything."
"I know that," Ben said, but his tone was a little softer.
"Dude, you've been her whole world for eleven years. I'm just a flash in the pan," Dean said, and gave a sad little smile.
Ben sighed. The anger had gone out of him. "Nah. You make her happy. I mean, she's a happy person, right? But she used to be maybe a little lonely. She's happier now."
"You think?" Dean said hopefully.
"Yeah," Ben said. He had the upper hand now, Dean guessed, and was ready to give Dean the benefit of the doubt.
If being put to the bottom of the pecking order restored the peace, it was nothing Dean wasn't used to.
"I hope so," Dean said.
"I will kick your ass," Ben said, but the heat had gone.
"I know, man, and you'd be right," Dean said.
Later that evening, Dean rolled over in bed and told Lisa all he and Ben had talked about.
Lisa reached out and gently stroked the side of his face, and Dean pressed against her careful, capable hand.
"Ben's protective of me, and I get that. But I'm the adult. I get to decide what risks are reasonable and how to protect my family."
Dean took Lisa's hand and kissed the fingers. "I promised I wouldn't come between you and Ben -- "
"You haven't, Dean. I appreciate you bringing it up, but this is something I have to work out with him. I know he thinks Annette is a little extreme, but he's still had more of a fantasy of becoming a Hunter than a true picture of the reality. He really is too young -- and it's not like an eleven year old can pretend to be in law enforcement."
Dean smirked a little, thinking of that kid in Blues Brothers 2000 and picturing Ben in a suit.
Lisa snuggled a little closer to Dean, winding her foot between his ankles. "But he also needs to realize I just can't sit home if you hear about a Hunt. I won't throw myself in harm's way -- but what kind of woman would I be, if I let you go off alone?”
"You're a better woman than I ever hoped to find," Dean answered, wrapping an arm around her side and pulling her close.
She kissed him like he was a feast, like all the most delectable morsels she'd ever craved. Dean knew what it was like to be a trophy lay, picked up by some girl who signalled her friends with wicked eyebrows before strutting out on his arm, to be teased and cajoled by him as she lay back and enjoyed the ride. Lisa's appreciation of Dean felt different because it was tempered by affection. She knew Dean. She liked him, well enough to let him live in her house and irritate her boy. Maybe, even, she loved him. Dean fed Lisa every ounce of his concentration, responding to her slightest hints by giving her whatever she asked.
She pulled away breathlessly and he looked up at her intently, trying to convey with his eyes everything he could never put into words--gratitude, respect, the commitment he felt growing inside him in the place he kept special for family.
"I'm so lucky you found me," Lisa murmured, and cut off his denials with kisses, till the denials faded away and only pleasing her remained.