A/N: This is my second fic for the 2017 Louden Swain SPN Mini Bang, and is for one of my favorite songs. I first heard this song when they played it at ChiCon 2015, and I fell in love with it right away. I struggled to get this fic to line up with the central themes of the song, but I hope you all agree it’s at least close. Special thanks to the best betas in the world, @littlegreenplasticsoldier and @manawhaat without whom my fics would not be nearly as legible. These two women inspire me with every word they write and push me to be better.
Summary: Dean dealing with his feelings while he’s with Lisa.
Pairing: I guess Dean and Lisa, but it’s not the focus.
Warnings: Angst, I guess. I don’t expect anyone to need tissues.
Word count: 1815 words
Dean wakes up to a bright streak of sunlight peeking through Lisa’s bedroom curtains. Usually, he fixes the curtains before he goes to bed for exactly this reason, but last night he was a little too out of it to care. Yesterday was November 2nd. It’s been more than 25 years since his mother died, but the day still creeps up on him. It was almost noon before he realized what day it was. He doesn’t remember much of the day after that. To be fair, he’s had other things on his mind the past few months.
Dean’s head pounds with the hangover he knows he deserves, his heartbeat loud in his ears, his gut still twisted with grief. Lisa tried to make him feel better last night and he just snapped at her. The pie was store-bought, not that it mattered. It had mattered, but there was no good reason for it.
The sunbeam has shifted, now, and is blinding the ever-loving hell out of him. He turns over to get away from it, hoping Lisa is still asleep. He’s not ready to face the disappointment and misery in her eyes. It would be merely a reflection of what he’s feeling, but it shows he should be doing a better job of hiding it from her. She doesn’t deserve it.
Right now, Lisa’s face looks peaceful and happy in the golden light. Much different to when the tears well up in her eyes as Dean rages when he’s drunk with grief. Or when he wakes her with one of his nightmares. Or when he doesn’t understand why she twists herself in knots to make sure Ben has a “good” breakfast in the morning instead of Lucky Charms or Pop Tarts. He and Sam grew up on them, so they can’t be all bad, right?