Dean disappears for a weekend, and Mom... looks relieved. And Ben doesn't know how to feel about that. He wants to tell her, it's gonna be okay. He wants to call Dean on the kitchen phone, tell him about the baseball game he didn't make it to, about the wireless telegraph set he's working on for a science project.

Dean comes back trailing a stutter of a knock, too loud at one in the morning. Mom's one side of the locked door, baseball bat in hand, Ben on the other. "Lisa?" calls Dean, voice a muffled warble, embarrassing in the silence. "Lisa. Hey. Hey it's me."

Dean chokes on a mouthful of holy water the second he steps over the threshold. "Christo," says Ben.

Dean's eyes are a wet green, and now they turn soft in a crinkle he hasn't seen in two years. It makes Ben's chest ache. And it's just wrong, wrong, wrong.