Tell me, what makes you so special.

The hall for the main event is decked out to the nines which means Dean is breaking out the ol' tuxedo. He's not particularly fond of that end of his job, preferring to handle things in much more comfortable attire, but this isn't his gig, it's Christine's, and he'll let her play it his way. Besides, he probably only has to suffer through an hour of this, at best, before he gets to go hang out and play back up in a sniper's nest far, far away.

He glances over at the hotel across the street as they get out of the car, before glancing back to her again. They have a few minutes before they're within earshot of anyone who would care, so now is the time to cover their bases.

"What room are you going to be in again?"

The details are important. If he's going to have her back, he needs to be sure that he is in the right place at the right time. And he's not one to leave his partner hanging out to dry.

He doesn't see it coming.

He should have. He's a soldier, he's trained for these things. He should have expected that after so long of being occupied, the citizens of New Orleans would start striking back. There's no reason why they wouldn't pick off Union soldiers seen on their own. Dean had gotten complacent. Gotten sloppy. And now he was probably going to die before he could even make it back to his unit.

His hand stays pressed to his side as he continues to stumble up the street, trying to keep himself mobile as best he can. He hurts, everywhere from the beating he had taken and the blood is still leaking through his fingers. He's not going to make it. His parents, brother, they may be prepared for him to die in the heat of battle. He doesn't think they would appreciate hearing that he was killed by being jumped on the street.

He trips on a crack in the pathway, pitching forward into a nearby fence post with a pained groan. He tries to push himself back to his feet again, but he can't. His body drops to the ground, slumping against the fence as he does, trying to catch his breath. Things are starting to get hazy around the edges, but he still thinks that he can make out the faint sound of footsteps.

"Help me," he manages to whisper, unsure if he's talking to anyone at all. "Please."

Dean wasn’t raised much in the real world, but he knew about it, peripherally, and he heard this vicious rumor that husbands were supposed to do nice things for their wives on their birthday.

Especially when they were a giant douchebag the year before.

Dean wasn’t proud of the things he had done during the tail end of the battle for the Apocalypse. He usually spent a lot of his time trying to block it out. But it had not escaped his attention that his brief moment of stupidity where he had considered saying yes to Michael had fallen around Jo’s birthday, and he’d lacked the opportunity to make it up to her ever since. First there was the Apocalypse, then his own grief to work through, and now that they had finally settled into something close to a routine, Dean wanted to do something … special. Special took planning, and planning took time and little white lies. He was also aware of the fact that you’re not supposed to lie to your wife, but he figures that little ones are okay.

Her boss helped. But when he arrived home with the final preparations and happened to see Jo’s truck sitting in the driveway, it was clear that her boss hadn’t helped enough. It was also clear that Dean was trying to keep this a surprise for as long as he could when he parked a block away and snuck around the back of the house to try and get in the back door without being noticed. This was probably a bad idea, but Dean was also known for her bad ideas.

He made his way around the back corner of the house, white bag in his hand, and trying to be as quiet as possible. He thought for a moment that he might just get away with it, when he was outted by a dog. A rather large dog.

“Yeti! No! Down!”

Yeti was not hearing any of it. Dean had to pull the white bag up out of the way as the dog tried to jump on him and say hello, just being his normal friendly self. His normal friendly self that ended in the crash of lawn furniture and a hearty bark from the dog.

So much for the silent approach.

They were running out of options.

Dean didn't like it, but it wasn't like there was much he could do about it. He needed to at least talk to his brother, and Sam wouldn't even give him that. He just kept running, and Dean knew that that wasn't going to solve the problem. Sam running was only going to get him caught by hunters or worse. And if Sam got caught by hunters -- back to Hell he goes, and who knows what he'll come back out like. Problem was, though, was that Sam was smart. He knew all of Dean's moves, so if Dean was the one doing the tracking, Sam would see him coming a mile away.

But he wouldn't see Alec.

Pushing himself to his feet, he made his way over to where his brother was sitting, and handed him the journal, held open to the page where the Devil's trap was. "Alright. A couple things you gotta know."

Alec took it but was looking up at Dean. "Lay it on me." He wasn't happy. At all. He didn't like this option, and it felt to him like he was cornering an animal. Which is exactly how he would feel if the roles were reversed. But Dean was right, better some tough love than a hunter putting Sam down like a flawed transgenic.

( *** )

[It's three in the morning, and he really doesn't want to wake her up, but he knows that the minute he slides into bed next to her, he will. It's just a matter of fact. He also knows that she's got her dad's knife under that pillow, so he's mostly just hoping that she doesn't decide to stab him with it.

He doesn't think the angels will appreciate having to bring him back again.

He kicks out of his jeans relatively quickly, before sliding in next to her, one arm around her waist and dropping a kiss on the side of her neck lightly]

Hey.

This was a door Dean thought he'd never knock on again.

It wasn't that he never thought about going back to Cicero to see Lisa and Ben. In fact, he had thought about it so many times he was surprised that he didn't do it, but given that they got Olivia so soon after things ended with Lucifer, he never had the time. He wasn't going to leave Sam hanging out to dry with a little girl, not if something big decided to come back and bite them in the ass, and not for someone he wasn't even sure wanted to see him.

Sure, she said he was welcome to stay, but she could have just been saying that to be polite. He did just save their lives after all, and he had already said he had to go. Besides, he would have just been the guy in the way. Ben wasn't his kid, and he deserved to have a father that wasn't going to drop dead in eight months.

Regardless, he was here now, and it was taking him a minute to actually get up the nerve to knock on the door. Even though he had a direct invitiation, even though he had a place there, he was still not sure that this was what he should be doing. Now, it too late for Ben to need a father, and he wanted to see Lisa, for what? For kicks? For that weekend with "Gumby Girl" that he never got all those years ago?

But he already said he was coming, and she was already expecting him. Now, all he had to do was knock. And he did.