Revisited
K Hanna Korossy

"This is stupid."

Sam blinked up from his notes, looking first out the car window, then the other way at his brother. "What? Why?"

"Because, Sam." Dean had also turned to him, face pressed into a deep frown. "We're looking for a nocturnal...thing that attacks joggers and homeless people, but are we looking at night? No, we're going to the park in the middle of the day when it's full of people and the monsters are probably asleep back at home, laughing at us."

Sam schooled his expression into thoughtfulness. "So...are they sleeping, or laughing at us?"

Dean tilted his head and gave him a thoroughly unamused look. "Look at that," he waved past Sam toward the expanse of green outside the car, "there's even a freakin' Little League game goin' on."

"Okay, so, a couple more guys will fit right in." Sam squared his body with his brother, leaning in. "Look, I'm not saying we're gonna find and gank this thing right now. But isn't it easier looking for clues in a park by daylight instead of flashlight? I'd feel better if we had some idea what this thing was before we went after it."

Dean's conflicted expression showed he couldn't quite argue with that as much as he wanted to. Sam hid his glee at the capitulation, biting his tongue as Dean threw open his door in exasperation and following him out.

For appearance's sake, Sam palmed the EMF detector as they crossed the grassy expanse, surreptitiously keeping an eye on the baseball game while they headed for the trees that lined the north side of the park. He knew they would find no evidence of the supernatural, but that wasn't really why they were there, anyway.

"Ben used to play Little League here," Dean surprised him by musing aloud. "When we still lived in Cicero."

"Oh, yeah?" Sam tried not to sound too interested. "You probably know the area pretty well then, huh?"

"Some of it," Dean admitted, eyes on the ballgame. "We used to come out here some Saturdays...to..." He stopped walking, spine stiffening.

Sam stopped, too, slipping the meter back into his pocket as he scanned the boys in the field. It'd been years since he'd last seen the kid, but maybe that one there was—

"Ben," Dean whispered.

"What?" Sam asked, both relieved and unexpectedly nervous. Here was where it could all go bad.

"That's Ben. What the—?" A pause, then Dean whipped around, eyes piercing. "You knew."

"What?" Sam repeated lamely. Like he had a chance of fooling Dean, but somehow he hadn't expected his brother to put things together so fast.

Dean jabbed him in the chest, hard. "You knew he was here. You knew they'd moved back to Cicero. Son of a—the only reason I came back here was I knew they weren't here! What the Hell, Sam?"

Sam's hands were up, apology more than appeasement, which he knew would just make Dean more mad. "Okay, look, I'm sorry, I knew they were here, all right? But, man, they don't know you, right? And I know you've been dying to know how they're doing, so... Let's just watch the game a little, okay?"

Dean looked like he was seriously contemplating breaking Sam's nose as he'd promised to do if he brought up Lisa and Ben again. Which, technically, Sam hadn't, but, yeah, he wouldn't exactly blame Dean for seeing it that way.

He braced himself for the blow.

Instead, Dean became distracted by someone he spotted in the crowd in the stands. "Lisa," he murmured. And there was such longing in his voice, it made Sam's chest clench.

Dean moved like a sleepwalker toward the bleachers. Sam followed in silence, torn as to whether this was a good idea or not. It had struck the week before, when going into Dean's wallet for pizza money he'd come across a worn picture of Dean, Lisa, and Ben tucked deep between bills.

"You're like...father material."

"Yeah, well, I kind of had to be lately, you know?... Ben...I mean, I know he's not my kid, but, I don't know, I'm starting to feel like, yeah, he is."

After the download of more than a year of his soulless self's memories, besides the many, many years of Hell, Sam hadn't even begun to sort through it all. But that conversation, his unemotional version coolly curious, Dean honest as he thought he was being to his brother, suddenly rang in Sam's ears.

That was when he'd decided. He'd known Lisa and Ben had moved back to Cicero and had kept up with them since Castiel had wiped their memories. He was surprised to realize Dean hadn't, judging by his brother's agreement to come here at all, but that was just further evidence of how deeply Dean felt the loss. Sam had a notion his brother had agreed to a hunt here only because he was still reeling with guilt from Osiris' trial and was trying to punish himself with this revisit to a painful past.

They settled on the top row of the stands, two rows behind Lisa and enough to the side that they could see her profile. Dean alternated between silently drinking her in and staring at Ben in the field. The kid was taller than the last time Sam had seen him, at the hospital after Crowley's attack. And he carried himself with a self-assurance that Sam didn't remember from the little he recalled of the kid. With a pang, he realized that was Dean's influence, the lessons and love having had their effect even if Ben couldn't remember the teacher. And, even more achingly, Sam knew his brother would never see or acknowledge his impact.

"She's by herself."

Sam wasn't sure Dean's quiet observation was meant for him, but he answered. "Yeah, I don't think she's dated anyone since Matt."

Dean looked washed out even in the sun-drenched afternoon light. "I don't want her to be alone."

"She's got a lot of friends and family online." Sam chose his words carefully. "I think she's just...she's regrouping, you know? Focused on Ben right now. He just became a teen..." Sam trailed off as Dean's face closed down completely.

They kept watching. They'd arrived in the fourth inning of seven. By the sixth, Dean was cheering the team on, careful not to mention Ben's name but whooping when the kid stole a base.

"I taught him that," he told Sam with a jab of the elbow, and when he smiled, Sam did, too.

Dean got quiet again in the seventh, both of them aware that this little window into normalcy, into parenthood, was about to close. Sam had weighed that, the good of seeing Ben and Lisa versus the pain of witnessing again what he couldn't have, and had decided Dean needed to know the Braedens were doing all right. But Sam chewed his nail as uncertainty crept in about his choice.

"She looks good," Dean finally said as the game ended—Ben's team winning by two runs—and the parents went to congratulate their kids. Sam took a few pictures of Lisa hugging and talking to Ben, feeling Dean's yearning like a magnetic pull beside him.

"She does," Sam agreed. "Ben's growing, too."

"Yeah." Wistful and proud.

They watched as the Braedens chatted with the other parents and players as they gathered their stuff.

Dean cleared his throat. "The team always goes out for pizza after."

Sam had actually been on the verge of mentioning that, but if it was Dean's idea, all the better. "I've got their address," he said carefully.

Dean looked at him, expression neutral, eyes sad. Then, to Sam's surprise, his mouth ticked up. "I figured."

Yeah, he was an idiot for still being surprised sometimes at how well Dean knew him.

It was all the discussion they needed. A minute later they were on their way. Sam figured they had an hour. They only needed half that.

Dean took the entrances and bedrooms, and the can of UV paint that would be invisible to the naked eye. Sam handled the windows and the edges of the yard, carving small symbols, sealing lines of salt with epoxy and burying small hex bags he'd already prepared the day before, then blessing the property for good measure. Anti-possession tattoos would've been ideal but rather hard to explain, so Sam settled for hiding charms in the lining of Ben's backpack and sneakers, and in Lisa's makeup case. They'd already dealt with her car at the park, and Sam would figure out a way to get to her wallet before they left town.

They converged at the front door, gazing at the house.

"It's a nice place," Sam ventured.

"Yeah. Got a good yard for Ben."

Sam nodded.

"He's in a band," Dean said with a wry smile. "Bet Lisa loves that."

Sam had known that, too, but wasn't surprised Dean had taken a moment to snoop. "Let me guess—classic rock."

"Of course."

He nodded with a grin that slowly smoothed out. Bumped shoulders with Dean. "They're doing okay, man. And Lisa's still got Ben thanks to you."

"Yeah, and a crappy year she can't remember." Dean bounced the keys in his hand, then turned back toward the street.

"No, no." Sam tugged at his arm even as he followed. "I heard what she told you at Bobby's. She said it was the best year of her life."

"That she can't remember," Dean repeated stubbornly, not looking back as he stalked down the sidewalk toward the corner where they'd left the car.

"Doesn't mean they're not better off for it. Dean, you helped her pay off the mortgage and get stronger. You taught Ben how to steal bases, and fix a car, and if I know you, how to talk to girls and defend himself and look after others. That's part of them now, man. Cas didn't take that away."

Dean muttered something under his breath about annoying memories, and Sam almost smiled.

He let it be until they reached the Impala and Dean swung his door open.

"Hey."

"What?" Dean growled, face storm-clouded as he looked at Sam over the car's roof.

"I just need to say this, okay?" Or rather, he needed Dean to hear it, even if it didn't fix things. "It is not your fault I got into this life, Dean. Jess died because she got in Azazel's way." Sam realized he'd balled his hand into a fist, and he spread it flat across warm metal. "I got my abilities because of something that happened when I was six months old." He blinked the sting out of his eyes; that would never not hurt. "Yellow Eyes would've still come for me, Lucifer would've still wanted me—that was...fate, or life, or whatever kept yanking me back, not you, all right?"

Dean's face just got darker. "Fine. You done?"

"Jo didn't blame you, either."

Dean froze.

"She said so, Dean." Sam leaned over the car, elbows on her roof, hands straining toward his brother. "So did Ash and Pam, and Dad and Mom pretty much did, too. I bet you anything Ellen, and Cas, and whoever you're not telling me about that Osiris would've called for the third witness, would say the same thing."

Dean's eyes fell.

"Crap happens, man. It sucks, but that doesn't make it on me, or you." He knew Dean believed actions, not words, and Sam had every intention of proving to his brother how he felt. But he still begged for Dean to just hear him. Sam wasn't the only one who needed a Stone Number One. "But there's one thing I know you're responsible for, and that's me standing here right now. Because, dude, you got me through it. You screwed destiny and made it all suck a lot less than it could've. For me, and for Ben and Lisa."

Dean looked down the street, arm clutching the top of the driver's side door, the muscle in his jaw jumping.

Sam knew there was no way he could lift the weight of guilt from his brother completely, but if he could just lighten it a little, just enough that Dean didn't have to drink to get through the day...

"Is there really a hunt here?"

The question came out of left field. "Uh. No?"

Dean nodded, eyes still on the horizon. He swung the Impala's door shut. "I'm gonna take a walk. Get us a room at the place we were last time and I'll meet you there." He didn't wait for a response, just started off along the street, head down, steps fast. As if making himself less of a target.

Sam sighed, got in the car, and slid over to behind the wheel. He had no clue whether he'd just helped, or made things a whole lot worse.

00000

Walking didn't help anything.

It always seemed to on TV; the character took a long walk while emo music played, watched some kids on a playground, sighed, and came home with their head straightened out. Usually a girl. Or Sam.

It was total bull.

What Dean had really needed was space. From Sam, from those soulful eyes—and he knew just how much that meant now that he had soulless eyes for comparison—and well-meaning words. Dean had been suffocating.

Not that Sam was all wrong. A lot of what he said made sense. Didn't change how Dean felt, though. Not the emptiness inside when he saw Lisa and Ben, the grief of losing their parents, the responsibility he shouldered for how Jo and Ellen had gone out. His brother meant well, but the field trip and the words just pried open boxes that Dean kept locked so he could function. In all their years together, Sam had never figured out how differently they worked.

And he didn't know about Amy.

Dean kept his eyes glued to the sidewalk, gaze skating over a penny, a busy anthill, a used Band-aid. He kicked a rock into the road, hard. Sam thought he was forgiving Dean, but he didn't even know what he should be forgiving him for, and Dean doubted he'd be so quick to do so if he found out. But even if he did... that douche "god" Osiris had been right: it wasn't about what Dean was guilty of. It was how guilty he felt.

His boots slowed at the sign for the Cicero Pines Motel. He glanced over the parking lot, finding the Impala in front of #12. But it was one door down, #11, where a Sasquatch-sized silhouette stood framed in the window, waiting for him.

Dean closed his eyes, feeling the push-pull of the watcher.

Sam's forgiveness for the rest of the crap in their lives did mean something. It was clearly earnest, and it had always mattered to Dean what Sam thought of him. Which was why Dean was having trouble finding the right time to bring up Amy. He told himself Sam was fragile, that he was dealing with enough already with his Guy, Interrupted brain. But the truth was, Dean didn't know what he'd do if he didn't have at least this, this giant girl who would care if he came home that night or not.

He drew a hand over his face, exhaling pure exhaustion.

Lisa had looked good. Ben clearly had a camaraderie with his fellow players that he'd lacked when he'd last played on that team. Dean had helped raise that kid in some small way, been a piece of that woman's life even if she couldn't remember him. And they were thriving.

Dean smiled grimly. Maybe he didn't kill everything he touched.

And Sam had brought him here to see them. Had kept up with them to make sure they were safe, and known what it would mean to Dean to see they were okay, and got how badly he needed a win right now. Sam had even invented a hunt to sell Dean. His brother loved him that much.

Maybe he'd helped raise more than one kid right.

That kind of history would survive Amy, right? Dean chewed his lip. It'd gotten them through his-and-his trips to Hell and Sam nearly killing him over a demon and Dean keeping his dad's secrets. Because this was one thing he hadn't screwed up completely, no matter how many times he and Sam had tried.

One life shouldn't balance against so many. But considering he'd written the world off more than once to save his brother, apparently it did. And that was why he could live with the guilt. Osiris had weighed his heart against a feather, not against Sam.

Lifting his chin, Dean trekked across the parking lot.

He knew the moment Sam saw him by how his already ridiculously tall outline got even taller as he straightened, then jumped toward the door. By the time Dean was climbing the steps, Sam stood in a rectangle of warm light, hair tousled like he'd been running nervous hands through it. The smell of food wafted out from behind him.

They stopped, shuffled a little, avoiding eye contact.

"I, uh, got pizza," Sam finally said, the question clear in his voice.

Dean looked for the lump in his gut that had built up from Sam's hallucinations and Bobby's home burning down and Amy and Osiris...and found it had shrunk, enough that he thought he actually had room for more than a liquid meal. "Sounds good," he finally said, rough.

"Yeah?" Hope now, blazingly obvious. And, God help him, love.

"Yeah," Dean said, looking up. Seeing the same thing in Sam's eyes.

They paused a minute in a silent exchange.

Then Sam moved aside to welcome him home.

The End