"How is it that you can waltz in here, turn my life upside-down, know everything about my life, about Ben's life, but I can't know a single damn thing about you and your family?"

"Lis.."

"Don't Lis me. Part of being in a relationship is sharing, and you aren't very good at that Dean Winchester," she said in an angry whisper. She rolled over on her side facing the window.

"Lisa." He pleaded exasperatedly. He touched her shoulder trying to get her turn towards him so he could plead his case. She jerked her shoulder away from him and moved farther on her side of the bed.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore Dean. I have to get up early for work tomorrow, and so do you. Just go to bed." Dean let out a sigh, rolled over, and closed his eyes tight, clenched his teeth to the point where the muscle in his jaw twitched, and he counted to ten.

Sam said that he needed this, said that he wanted this normal, but he didn't give him a map, or a guide, or a hint as to how in the hell he was supposed to do this. Lisa knew that he was a hunter, and she understood on a basic level what that meant. She thought that she needed to know more-she couldn't be more wrong. The less she knew about the life he led before he showed up on her door step four months ago, broken, grief stricken and determined to adhere to a promise that he had been forced into making, the better off she was.

Lisa didn't understand. And that was the problem wasn't it? She simply wanted to understand him, where he came from, who he was beyond the little mixed company appropriate stories from his childhood or the time he spent on the road with Sam that he had shared. Or the little facts like what brand of beer was his favorite, or whether he preferred boxers or briefs, little stuff that was meaningless. Things that if a big bad were to get a hold of her and try to torture information out of her, the torture wouldn't last long because there wouldn't be any information to gather. At least that was what he told himself.

Was there really a big bad out there lurking in the shadows waiting to come and rip his little family to pieces? Lucifer was in his box, and Sammy was with him and Sammy wouldn't let Lucifer do anything. So, really, what was his problem? Was he truly just scared? Was he just scared that if he let someone, who wasn't Sam, who wasn't Bobby, inside that they would turn away from him, hurt him, disown him, leave him?

Grim realization came over him like demon smoke, if he didn't open up, Lisa was going to ask him to leave and not be a part of her family anymore. And not only would he have failed his brother, but he would have failed himself. He couldn't have one more failure on his soul. Just couldn't.

He sighed, sat up, turned and looked at the woman who was sleeping next to him. She was beautiful, she was sweet, kind, and gentle. He didn't want to give her up. Dean rubbed his hands up and down his face. He would have to tell her. He would have to introduce her to his life.

SNSNSNSN

Silence had never been Dean's friend. Silence on a hunt meant that the monster was standing right over you, or that you were on the receiving end of a blow so hard that it knocked all of your senses dumb. Or silence was driving alone in the Impala when your brother left you for Stanford, and quickly thereafter, your father abandoned you for revenge. Silence was the sound you hear when your brother is dead in your arms, or when your brother had fallen into Hell because he was the only one who could save the world from certain destruction that you had had a significant hand in starting. Silence was never good, and Lisa was employing it. After their argument on Thursday night, she stopped talking to him except for only the most necessary of things. And it took almost two complete days before he could get her alone, Ben off spending the night at a friend's house….something about an all night video game marathon…before Dean could make the introductions.

"Lisa?" he said entering the bedroom where she was reading a book. She looked up and didn't say a word. "Come with me."

"No."

"Lisa." He sighed. "Please." She slapped the book down on the bed.

"What? What do you want?"

"Lisa, Lis…" He put his hands on his hips and looked to the sky praying for some kind of help, and almost laughing at himself, God didn't help Sam and him when they needed it most, what in the hell made him think that God would help him get Lisa to understand? "You wanted to know me."

"And you made it perfectly clear that I wasn't privy to any of that information."

"I was wrong." he finally said. Her eyes lost some of their angry edge. "I was wrong. It isn't fair that you don't know anything about me and I know everything about you and Ben. You're right." She looked confused.

"If this is just a ploy to get you out of the dog house…"

"It's not. It's just the first time we've been alone since the fight that I can make introductions."

"Introductions? But…your family…"

"Is long dead or in Hell suffering for eternity." Dean supplied.

"What?"

"That explanation is for later when I'm drunk enough to tell you about it." He said knowing that he would have to be significantly drunk before he could tell anyone, even her, about the disaster, and Sam's possession and imprisonment. "But I can introduce you to the last part of my family. Please, come on." Curiosity got the better of her and she stood, put on the slip on shoes that she had by the bed and followed Dean out of the room, down the stairs, and into the garage. Dean turned on the light, and pulled the tarp off of the Impala.

"This is the last member of my family left alive." He said and swallowed hard. "This is my baby."

Lisa smiled nervously and pointed, "It's a car."

"It's more than a car." Dean said without taking offense. "It's been my home my whole life. This is where I grew up." He opened the passenger's side door and he indicated that she needed to get inside. She did. He went to the driver's side door and slipped inside. Dean pulled the garage door opener out of his pocket and opened the door, turned on the car, and pulled out of the garage, out of the driveway, and out of suburbia.

The big black beast glistened in the moonlight as they flew down the road. "You're sitting in Sammy's seat." He finally said when they pulled onto a back road that Lisa didn't even know existed. "For the last five years, Sam was my partner, my best friend, my brother, the only person I really talked to. He sat there when he bled, while he brooded, while he laughed at my stupid jokes, while he complained about my taste, or in his uncultured opinion lack there of, in music, while he talked about our latest case, while he cried. My brother sat there. That was my brother's spot." He licked his lips and tried to take a deep breath, he wasn't going to cry. He wasn't going to be a girl. He was simply going to state the facts. Going to sanitize this, take all of the pain, sadness, and grief out of it, and just make it a story.

"When we were kids, we played in here, Sam jammed that little green army guy in the ashtray, he was, I don't know, eight? Seven? God I don't even remember anymore. He just jammed the shit out of it and I wasn't ever able to get it out. Then almost four years ago, a semi truck slammed into us Sam was driving, I almost died, my dad did die, and this car looked like a pretzel. I put her back together, almost from scratch, and that little army man was lying on the floorboards, after over a decade of being stuck in that ashtray, it finally fell out. When I finally got her all put back together, I jammed it back in the ashtray. You have pictures of Ben growing up, you have that box full of his stuff, and it's the same thing for me."

Lisa watched Dean as he spoke. His eyes were focused completely on the road, he looked as if he were telling her about the weather. She knew better, knew that this was killing him to tell her such personal things about the brother he hardly spoke of.

"And under the carpet, we carved our initials into the floorboards. Silly kid things, but we did it."

"You guys ever live anywhere?"

"Yeah, we lived in lots of low rent apartments that had rats the size of small children. I'd watch Sam while Dad would be gone for weeks at a time. Or we stayed in motels that generally charged by the hour. We had beds. But we only truly felt safe in this car. It was the only thing we had left after the fire."

"The fire?"

"My mom." He licked his lips. "A demon, he burned my mom on the ceiling of Sam's nursery. Dad got Sammy out, but we weren't able to save Mom. Dad gave me Sam and told me to keep him safe. And I did. For 27 years, I did everything I knew how to keep my little brother safe. But no matter what I did, evil crap happened, and tried to get him, tried to turn him evil, tried to get him away from me. It took 27 years but they finally got him. And now, my home, my car, feels empty. It doesn't feel like a home anymore. Without Sammy, it just feels like a car." Dean licked his lips, bit the inside of his cheeks and pressed on. "Sam told me, that when I died, he put me in the backseat, even though he knew that I'd be pissed that there was blood all over the seats. He said that he wouldn't let Bobby put me in his car; Sam said that he wanted my last ride to be in my home, so he drove me to Illinois to bury me."

Tears were dripping down Lisa's face, and she dared not wipe them away, afraid movement might startle Dean, and when she spoke her voice was soft and quivered with sadness. "Dead?"

"I sold my soul in order to save Sam's life, and my bill came due, and they collected."

"I don't understand…"

"I've been to Hell, I've suffered, and I've hurt people. It's a part of me."

"Literal Hell?"

"Literal Hell. It's not all fire and brimstone. It's pain, and fear, and more pain. Unspeakable things happen to you down there. But my brother had to watch as hell hounds shredded me, he had to listen as I screamed, and he had to hear the silence when I was gone, and he had to smell my guts spilled onto the floor."

Lisa's mouth was agape. She had asked for this. She couldn't take back the request. But God how she suddenly wanted to. "This road, this is a road that can take you half way across the country. Hardly anyone drives down it. Too remote, too far away from cell towers, too far away from normal. But my life has been one long remote road.

I read to Sammy in the backseat on roads like this. I made Sam turn off his flashlight and sleep while driving down roads like this one. I called Sam at Stanford and hung up right after he answered while driving down roads like this. This car, thrumming, humming, along blacktop. Her engine lulling me to sleep when I was a kid, her seats wiping clean after I bled or Sam threw up after eating some really not good back roads diner food. This car took care of me. It took care of my family. And now it's just me and her." He said.

Lisa turned and looked out of the windshield, and was surprised to find that they were on the road that led home. "She still holds all of the stuff that can save a life. She has my hunting journal, Sam's, Dad's, and she alone is the one that holds all of that knowledge, that history. She keeps Sammy's duffel for me. She keeps it just in case I ever need to go through it, or ever get the courage to give it away. Me and her, we're it. We had to sacrifice everything, had to give up those we love, but we're both still here." He said and opened the garage door and pulled her back inside, cut the engine and got out. Lisa got out as well. "And now, she gets a tarp in a nice cushy garage, and I get a stable home with wonderful people. And neither one of us feels like we fit." He finished pulling the tarp over the car. "And both of us are warriors that may have survived the war, but we've lost so much, that we don't even know if we are all here."

Lisa came around to stand in front of him. She wrapped her arms around him. He kissed the top of her head and turned her to face his car. "Impala, this is Lisa. Lisa this is the Impala, the last of my family." She turned and looked at the car, she rested her hand on the hood, felt the heat emanating from the big engine, and she nodded, wiped tears from her eyes and said "It's a pleasure to meet you." Dean wrapped his hand around her waist.

"Come on. Let's go inside." She nodded, followed him to the door, up the three steps to the door, and Dean turned off the light and closed the door. The Impala's engine ticked.