Chapter 2:

Mad World – Gary Jules (though I believe it was originally by Tears for Fears)
All around me are familiar faces
worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for the daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere

Just like last time: the first few days, weeks were the worst. She was always on the verge of collapsing in on herself, never sure if the slightest thing would set her off again. Every look was accusing. Every silence damning. She should have found him earlier.

Things would be different if she had never believed John. If she'd held together long enough to read the lie in his face. Women were supposed to know those things naturally, right?

What was it her grandmother used to say?

If wishes were kisses there'd never be any hate.

This time around almost seemed easier. Almost. Liz had done it all before. She knew that the crippling grief would pass. That his absence would eventually stop haunting her. And this time there were no pregnancy hormones making her crave the taste of his skin. Not even a hint of hope that there had been some terrible mistake. Just her little boy, the most important person in her life.

She'd gotten Dean back for seven months, two weeks, and three days.

It wasn't nearly enough but every day that passed she got a little closer to accepting that she was lucky to even get that. So many other people didn't. They lost loved ones and that was it. No second chances to take solace in the ones taken from them.

Every day she spent a little less time thinking about him and a little more time believing she didn't need him.

But every night she still woke up screaming.

Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression
Hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow
No tomorrow, no tomorrow

There weren't many belongings to be packed - most of their stuff was still in a storage unit in New Mexico from selling the Dominican place – so it took longer for Liz to get Nate ready than it did to get their belongings piled in the trunk of her rental.

She leaned over the bed she'd been using the last few days and once again checked if there was some random pieces of cloth lost amongst the dust bunnies. Not wanting to leave anything behind, she kept checking the nooks and crannies ignoring Sam's brooding presence in the corner and the sounds of Nate coloring at the table.

The sooner they were out of here the better.

Fingers dug into her arm and dragged her back into the bathroom after she'd finished double checking it. Sam. She'd been anticipating this... discussion since she told him they were leaving. He was going through the stages of grief. At the moment he was stalled on anger.

“Why are you leaving?”

She shook him off and rubbed where bruises would be forming. Dean wouldn't have been happy about that, “You know why.”

Stability. Memories. Let him take his pick.

“I need your help. We can get him back if you help.”

Okay, so there was some denial mixed up in his anger. Winchester's always did make things more complicated than they had to be, “He's not coming back Sam. Not this time.”

She didn't have the luxury of believing he'd suddenly rise from the grave. He was dead. She saw it. Had put him in the ground per Sam's wishes instead of cremating the remains like she'd known she should. Her sanity depended on her senses. Her senses said he was really gone this time.

And despite that Nate was a firm believer that his daddy was coming back, she wouldn't be that woman. She wouldn't lie to her kid to spare him the pain of the truth.

“Don't say that. Don't ever say that.”

“Sam,” she shook her head shoving away the burn of uncontrolled emotion, “he's not coming back. Nothing we do will change that.”

Please let that be true. She'd never forgive herself if it wasn't.

And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had

She looked the same.

Somehow she never expects that. Everytime there was some major upheaval in her life she always thought that there would be some external change to show it. A new wrinkle, a shadow, a scar. But there was never anything. She cut her hair, she wore make up, dressed like an adult, and still when all that was pealed away: Liz still freakishly looked like the kid who'd thought she could take on the world and win.

Her hand unconsciously went to the chain around her neck and the ring dangling there. A life time ago, she'd given it to Dean. Now it was hers and one day it would go to Nate. Hopefully not for a long long time.

Lost in thought she didn't realize that her nose was bleeding until she was clinging to the sink, her fingers finding no purchase on the cold porcelain. There was nothing she could do to keep the visions away. The more she lost him, the more she saw him.

Him, devils and demons.

She thought maybe she should get a tattoo. A quote to sum up the tragic comedy that was her life:

Abandon Hope.

I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take
When people run in circles
It's a very very, mad world, mad world

There might not be anyway for him to pull Dean out of hell but Sam would get to Lilith and Lilith could get him out. And he didn't need Liz to do it. Just Ruby and some training. Then he could get his brother back. Let Liz set up a life for her and her son in the boondocks of Texas.

She was right to do that. Dean wouldn't have wanted her involved anyway.

Children waiting for the day they feel good
Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday
And I feel the way that every child should
Sit and listen, sit and listen

There was something wrong with her son and it was more than just losing a parent.

At first it was a subtle change. He'd randomly stop doing what he was engaged in, his would head tilt as if he was trying to listen to something in the distance before returning to his task. It was strange but nothing too alarming. Liz just convinced herself that it was one of those little boy things that would always puzzle her.

It wasn't at all unusual. Nothing to do with her own troubles. A normal weird not an extraordinary one.

Then those silences started getting longer so that he eventually spent hours sitting by himself, occasionally smiling or giggling. Still, she followed what every one said; it was just a coping mechanism after losing his dad. She knew it wasn't - not with his speech improving like he'd practiced for hours. Not with the way he'd stare at her. Penetrating. Unnerving. But she tried so damn hard to make it true.

Something was happening to her little boy.

After a brief discussion with Bobby that yielded little result, Liz did the one thing she swore she wouldn't do until she was sure that he had gotten his act together. She called Sam.

Went to school and I was very nervous
No one knew me, no one knew me
Hello teacher tell me what's my lesson
Look right through me, look right through me

“Get out!” her voice cracked from the force she was throwing behind it.

How dare he! HOW DARE HE!

“Calm down. I can explain,” Sam held his hands out in surrender, his body still hovering protectively in front of the she-thing. He knew she wouldn't shoot him. Couldn't. The stupid bastard was family after all.

“GET! OUT!” her chest heaving she could feel the world begin to spin beneath her feet, the tickle at the back of her throat. Now wasn't the time. Liz held Sam's gaze for a strong moment. “That thing is not welcome in my house.”

Leave. He needed to leave. She'd never forgive him if he stayed. A demon. Why did he have to get involved with a demon?

“Liz.”

“I told you to get the fuck out,” the door slammed with enough force to shake the frames against the wall she'd dropped against.

She could hear Marta playing with Nate in the backyard as black swam across her eyes. What was happening to them?

And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had

What was she supposed to do?

Dammit Dean, how was she supposed to know how to help their son? The supernatural wasn't her thing. She only knew so much to get her buy. Salt the windows. Keep holy water at hand. If eyes turned black: RUN. What did she know about protection from things she couldn't see?

This was his thing!

He was supposed to be there to take care of those things. He was supposed to keep the demons away. He was supposed to keep his brother in hand. He was never supposed to leave. It was never supposed to be so hard. Screw never. She'd always done better assuming the worst.

Nate's voice drifted into the room. His voice clearer and less hesitant as he read than it had been, “He’ll hang up his drawing and stand back to look at it. Looking at the refrigerator will remind him that he’s thirsty so he’ll ask for a glass of milk.”

She couldn't believe him when he said it was the angels he was talking to. Angels that told him daddy was coming home soon. What would angels want with her son? With any of them?

“And chances are if he asks for a glass of milk, he’s going to want a cookie to go with it,” he finished with a giggle and the covers slapped together as he closed the book.

Someone was playing 52 pickup with their life and Liz didn't know how to gather the scattered pieces. She could only scramble against the tide, hoping against reason that that maybe Nate was right and the force behind it wasn't evil.

I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take
When people run in circles
It's a very very, mad world, mad world
Enlarging your world, mad world

Chapter 3