The last thing Dean expected when he when to sleep that night was to wake up standing in front of a house. He didn't know how he got there, but something was definitely not right. He was about to knock on the door when he noticed that it was already cracked open. He placed his hand flat against it; It's solid, real as far as he knows. Pushing the door open further, he takes several steps inside before he freezes. What he's seeing right before his eyes, now this, this could definitely not be real. And he's thinking that one of three things is happening:
- He's died, gone to Hell, and this is some sort of cruel torture.
- He's dreaming, and he's got to be dreaming, because this would never happen in real life. Not his life. Though if he is dreaming, he hopes he's in a friggin' coma. Or...
- Some dick angel with a grudge has dropped him right into the middle of an alternate future.
He turns around and walks back out of the house, only to come face-to-face with Castiel.
"Cas? What the Hell is going on? Why is- why is-" Dean shakes his head, his question going unfinished, but Castiel knows what he's trying to ask.
"Yes, Dean. It's all real. This is Heaven."
"But, how? I mean, I figure I'd be the last person to... end up here."
"Don't question it, Dean. Just go."
Castiel, already knowing the question in Dean's mind, interrupts him. "Yes. Now go."
Dean inhales sharply though his nose and nods. He goes to the door, turning his head to look over his shoulder, but Castiel is gone now. Taking a deep breath, Dean walks back into the house, back to what he can't quite believe is even real. Because sitting there, at a table with her back to him, was the only woman Dean has ever run to again and again. He clears his throat and she stands up, turning around. When she sees him, a grin spreads across her face.
Dean steps forward, not taking his eyes off of her for fear that she'll disappear. He licks his lips and sighs shakily. "I'm sor-" He starts, attempting to apologize for all he's put her though, but is interrupted again, this time by Lisa.
"We don't have to talk about anything right now if you don't want to."
"Good," he replies, his voice barely above a whisper, and then repeats himself a little louder, "Good."
He stops walking, a few feet away from her. He closes his eyes, exhaling slowly, still finding it hard to believe that this is real.
Lisa closes the distance and hugs him around his torso, resting her head on his shoulder. "I've missed you."
"I've missed you, too." Dean wraps his own arms around her, ducking his head slightly to bury his face in her neck. He tightens his hold on her, smiling, thinking that he doesn't ever want to let her go again.
And Dean doesn't mind that he might actually be dead, if this is what Heaven is going to be like from now on.