Stand in the Rain (Dean Winchester story)

Chapter 11

Lizzy

I wait for a minute or two before I leave my room to go after Dean and Cas. Staring at my parents wedding picture and lightly brushing my necklace with my fingertips, I can't help but wonder that if he was ever in fact an angel, did Mom know? Did anyone other than Dad know? I knew that he never liked me out of the house without him knowing, and sure he was overprotective plenty of times, but I always thought it was because I was a teenage girl. He sent me to women's self defense classes every summer until I was eighteen, and even then told me to never stop practicing. Even though he was superstitious, I always just assumed it was a good old american stereotype shining through.

The more I think about things he'd say, things he'd go stiff over, things he didn't talk about at all, the more convinced I am that Dean's right. However I don't think Mom ever knew. Why would you keep something like that secret? I guess the looneybin would be a good reason, but wouldn't he just be able to fight his way out? No, other than self defense, he hated violence. 

The more I ponder on the way I was raised, the more I realize how much he kept hidden from me. The only thing he would say about my necklace was that I needed to wear it, for my family, so I did. After a while, it became uncomfortable to take off.  When I asked him why I couldn't go out, he said it was dangerous, and he would leave it at that. There was medicine for everything, swimming meant that he needed to be able to see me and I wasn't allowed to go under the water for more than a minute on purpose, and it was never "just a bike ride", If I wanted to play with a friend I had managed to make, I needed to give addresses, phone numbers, parent names, sibling names, and I might as well have been asked for social security numbers. Wait, was he looking out for demons? Did we have the medicine to cure everything known to man, so if something happened, he'd know if it was supernatural?

I shake my head and walk out to the kitchen where Dean said to go when I was ready to talk more. Breathing heavily, my hands clench and release over and over again, as I stroll into the room and sit at the table.

"Okay, so what now?" I don't look up. "The only thing I can think of is research, but I don't know where to find anything about fallen angels."

"Lucky for us, we research this stuff for a living. It's not too hard to find if you know where to look." Dean gives a deep sigh. He comes closer until he reaches the table, he sits down across from me and takes my hands out of my hair into his own. "Are you sure you wanna do the research with us? You don't have to, it's okay, we'll understand."

"Are you kidding?" I my eyes meet his emerald orbs. "I want to find out everything that I can. I-I just don't know what I'll find, or what I'll think of it. 'Cause, he was amazing, and I don't want my memories of him to get all, I don't know how to say it, messed up? It's stupid."

"No, it not stupid. You just want him to stay the great guy you knew, and you think if you find something you don't like, you'll end up not liking him." Dean says. He looks like he's also taking a trip down memory lane like I am. 

"What happened to your parents? I can tell it's something, because I don't think you could've explained that more perfectly." I ask gentle. "And I don't think that you can say something that deep without relating."

"It's nothing, just, my dad wasn't the great guy I wanted Sam to think he was. He was a great guy, but..." He looks away. 

"You don't have to explain if you don't want to." I assure him. "I get not everything's like apple pie. It's not all sweet or warm, sometimes things from the past are like rocks. Hard, cold, and weight you down to make you who are."

"Perhaps we should start the research." Cas clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the scene unrolling in front of him. "I'll just go to the library." He walks out awkwardly.

"Sorry about him, he's not the kind of guy for Hallmark moments, he's more of a... I don't know what kind of moment guy to use to describe him." Dean has trouble saying the last few words.

"I always thought that angels would be tender, but strong and protecting. Not exactly the holy business suit type angel thing he has going on." I chuckle softly. "Are there different angels or something? That would make more sense, like groups that all specialize in something. One group guard the pearly gates, another does all of the blessing people, one that takes people to Heaven." 

"Actually, angels don't take people to Heaven. That's a reaper's job to take people to those places." Dean grins at my guiding angel comment. I stay quiet for a minute, thinking about the reapers he mentioned. "You okay?"

"Do you-" I try to hold back tears. I feel a ball of wax get stuck in my throat as I try to speak without the moaning sounds. "Do you think a reaper took my parents to Heaven? Or do you think that my dad ended up in Hell because he fell?" I stare at the collar of Dean's shirt given that I can't look him in the eyes.

"Yeah, there was reaper involved, but their all really nice. They take care of the people that are moving on, I promise." He tries to comfort me. I imagine a grim reaper taking my mom's hand, scaring her to death if she wasn't already dead. The look on her face when she was told she was gone. I try to hold back a sob, but it takes over my whole body. I feel my shoulder shake and my skin go cold. My face feels warm while it tenses up, and I pull my hand out of Deans to wipe away tears falling slowly from my cheeks. He gets up and pulls me into his arms, hushing me, telling me everything will be alright. Somehow he says it quiet enough it sounds like a voice in my head shushing me, but loud enough for me to hear the distinct words. 

I grab his shoulder and cry into his black shirt. He rocks me back and forth, reminding me of how I would comfort myself when I was alone. The memory only makes me cry harder. I feel like at any moment, Dean will huff at my pathetic crying, telling me 'that's enough' or 'big girls don't cry' like the old song that came on the radio when I cleaned my car at the car wash. But he never does, he stays patient, and just holds me. 

"I'm fine, I'm okay." I repeat. Partly for him, but partly for me. He loosens his seize on my upper body and pulls back just enough to glimpse my closed eyes.

"You don't have to start today, you can start tomorrow, the day after, hell you could start next week. Whenever you want, it's a lot to take in Lizzy." He pets my hair slowly, calming me further. 

"I think I want to start now." I whisper. 

"If you're sure..." He murmurs.

"I'm sure. And don't mumble, silly. I can't hear you when you do that." I try to lighten the mood. He simply pulls me in for a quick, but tight hug, then playfully pushes me towards the library.