Title: Bequest

Rating: Teen due to death, sexuality, and some language

Characters: Dean Winchester, Lisa Braeden, Sam Winchester, Ruby, Ben Braeden, Lucas Barr

Disclaimer: Supernatural does not belong to me.

Spoilers: 3.02 The Kids are Alright

Author's Note: We all know that Ben couldn't possibly be Dean's kid for the show's purposes, but they were just too cute for me to resist. I expanded the idea past 'Little Lie' and this is what it ended up as. Four parts total; one is Lisa's POV, then Dean's, Sam's and finally, Ben's. I hope you all enjoy it, because I absolutely loved writing it.

There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots; the other, wings. – William Hodding Carter, Jr.

Part 1: Hope

Lisa gulped and adjusted her leather skirt so that it covered just a little bit more thigh. She shouldn't be here. She wasn't the kind of girl who hung out in a biker bar looking for a guy with a tattoo, some scars, and no mailing address to have a one night stand with. Her daddy had raised her not to be that girl.

It was the thought of her father that had her tilting her chin up and straightening her shoulders as she pulled the door open. Smoke and loud rock and roll filled the air and Lisa had to breathe very shallowly to keep from coughing. She so should not be here.

"You in or out, honey?"

She jumped and spun to stare at the person who had come up so suddenly behind her. The woman was looking at her with amusement and Lisa blushed. "What?"

The woman gestured, long red fingernails pointing past the girl into the bar. "Are you going in or coming out?"

"In," Lisa said, "I think."

Red lips smiled and Lisa found herself smiling hesitantly back, "C'mon honey, first one's on me."

She didn't even need to use the fake ID she'd nervously tucked into her purse this evening, the bar tender hadn't even glanced at her as he slid down a shot of tequila. Lisa downed it determinedly, closing her eyes at the feel of the alcohol burning down her throat. She felt a pat on her back and gave the woman who'd bought it a grateful smile as the blonde moved away with a wink.

"You want another one, sweetheart?"

He was pierced in too many places to name and tattoos ran the entire length of both arms that the muscle shirt bared. A week ago she would have crossed the street if she saw him coming, but now she just leaned forward and smiled, "Please."

The second shot, a double this time, went down just as easy as the first. Lisa stared at the glass, at the droplets that ran down the sides and condensed on the bottom. Her father had caught her the two times she'd ever participated in underage drinking, and he'd grounded her when she stumbled in past her curfew, singing at the top of her lungs. Never could slip anything past Isaac Braeden.

She let out a little laugh and asked for a scotch this time, the guy who'd sauntered up to the bar beside her even bought it for her. She gave him a speculative glance. He was gorgeous; all long lashes and big green eyes, and if those freckles weren't the most adorable thing she'd ever seen on a grown man…It was his smile that clinched it though. It was just a half-smile, more a smirk really, with just a hint of a pout, and as the bartender set the tumbler down in front of her and passed him a cold beer, Lisa knew she'd found the guy she was taking home with her.

"Dean Winchester."

"Lisa Braeden."

He turned his body to face her more fully and she liked the fact that he wasn't looking at her cleavage in the halter top, but meeting her eyes. "Well, Lisa Braeden, what are we drinking to?"

She thought for a moment and raised her glass. "To my father, the bastard."

His smile grew and she read appreciation in his hazel eyes. "Now that's something to toast to." And his bottle clinked against her glass before he took a long gulp. Lisa sipped delicately at the liquor and watched the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "So, what'd he do?"

Her gaze dropped to the amber liquid. "He died."

"Shit, that sucks."

She looked up sharply, wondering at the matter of fact tone and ready to tell him to fuck off, but his eyes were empathetic and she felt herself fighting not to cry instead. "My mom died when I was born, so it was always just me and him," she could remember his laughing dark eyes and his strong arms, "He had cancer, had it for two years, and didn't tell me. Thought if he didn't say anything, it wasn't real. God, so stupid." She tilted back the glass and finished off the scotch. "How about you?"

He shrugged, "I'm not so interesting."

Didn't want to talk, that was fine. Talking wasn't what she wanted him for. "Somehow I doubt that, but I'll let it slide. You in town long?"

"Just passing through," he assured her, "I'm on a road trip; five states in five days."

"How's that working for you?"

"As of this moment, pretty well." He'd gotten his smirk back and gave her a once over in a deliberately smarmy way. It made her laugh.

"I want to have fun tonight, Dean Winchester."

His smirk widened into a lazy smile and she swore his eyes got a little brighter. "I'm plenty of fun, Lisa Braeden."

Fun wasn't the half of it. Lisa was still in bed at noon the next day, sprawled across the sheets, smiling and sated. He'd driven them back to her loft in a car that screamed of danger and power and other naughty things and then he'd proceeded to show her just how much of a good time he could give her.

It had kind of been like opening a gift someone got you on a whim as she slowly helped him strip off three layers to reveal the skin beneath. He was smooth and golden and she had run her fingers over the scars that were sprinkled across his flesh the way stars were in the sky. "I like surprises," she'd told him, her lips tracing one on his bicep.

It had been the second time when she'd informed him that she was a yoga instructor and she thought his grin might've been able to split his face in two. She'd never met anyone as flexible as her, but Dean came in a very close second and the things he'd done with his tongue…

Lisa giggled into her pillow as she recalled with perfect clarity the third and fourth time they had coupled and sighed at the memory of the last time, just half an hour ago, before he'd left. It had been the best night of her life and that was a fact that was likely to remain until she died. There was no way on God's little green earth that Lisa would ever forget Dean Winchester.

A fact that was made abundantly clear a month later when things had finally settled down. Neighbors had stopped offering condolences and no longer brought over casseroles, there was quiet in the apartment and a stillness that she could breathe in. At first she contributed the lack of flow to stress over her father's passing, but a month after that she no longer had that comforting thought.

Lisa spent some time being frantic, she figured that was normal. She hadn't been on birth control, and she'd never make that mistake again, but he had been pretty adamant about using protection. Wasn't it just her luck that her one night of no consequences fun would include that less than 2 chance of condom breakage and a pregnancy?

Children hadn't been included in her life plan until she was at least twenty seven and well-established enough to have her own fitness center, but Lisa didn't debate whether she should keep the baby or not. She didn't call Dean either, although she had his phone number written on a piece of scrap paper. He had been a one night stand, that had been all she wanted from him, and that was all she needed him to be.

She had no family except a grandmother in New Mexico who renounced her when Lisa told her she was keeping the illegitimate child. So she did it on her own. She bought the baby books and went to appointments and put together a crib and worked full time, developing a yoga class based around expectant mothers, and she was fine.

More than fine really, she was happy. She'd been at a loss over her father, but the baby gave her purpose and a hope that life was never really over. She was going to be a mother, and that was a miracle.

The sex of the baby was a secret. Lisa wanted to be surprised. So when the doctor placed her little boy in her arms, she just watched him, so tiny and perfect, and decided to name him Benjamin. Benjamin Isaac, something for her father and something that was just her baby boy.

"Father's name?"

"Dean Winchester," she replied absently, still dreamy over Ben's ten fingers and ten toes.

"So his full name will be Benjamin Isaac Winchester?" the nurse asked, writing down the information to be typed up in the newborn's birth certificate.

"No!" Lisa yelled, alarmed, and then spent several moments calming Ben. "No," she repeated, "Benjamin Isaac Braeden. His father isn't around."

"Ah." The nurse looked sympathetic, as if she had helped deliver too many babies with dead beat dads, and maybe she had, but Dean would never get the opportunity to become a father like that because Dean would never know. Ben was hers.

It was almost eight years later, seven years after she had thrown out the piece of paper with his number, when Lisa even acknowledged that Ben was also Dean's. Not that she had forgotten Dean Winchester. There was no way that would ever happen, and she'd let slip at a few get-togethers with the other single mothers in Morning Hill just why that was, it was just that Ben was hers and he was himself. It was just the two of them, together, and that was all that mattered.

"I want a race car cake!" he announced, pacing in front of her as they planned his birthday party. Ben loved cars, especially old American made classics.

"Okay," she agreed indulgently.

"I want to invite all the kids in the neighborhood, especially Maggie McMahon." The little brunette was Ben's crush of the week. "But not Ryan Humphrey."

"That's fine." The Humphrey boy was a bully, Ben didn't need to be around his sort.

"And a moon bounce!"

Lisa laughed, "I'll see what I can do."

"Awesome! Chicks love moon bounces," he confided, plopping down beside her. Lisa wrapped an arm around him and he relaxed against her.

"And what do you want for a present?"

"The Back in Black album!" he said, excitement in his voice.

"Who's the artist?" She racked her brain for a reference, but Ben's taste in music had always run opposite of hers.

He rolled his eyes, "AC/DC, Mom," as if she should have known it.

"One CD is kind of small for a Mom-present, what else do you want?"

She watched him as he thought, his small face scrunched; lips pushed outward, brow furrowed, and he gave the back of his head a brief scratch. "I dunno," and then his face cleared, "Surprise me."

Lisa thought she might stop breathing. He was looking at her out of lash-lined green eyes, freckles that she didn't notice unless they were nose to nose speckled his cheeks, and he was smiling that little half-smile he'd been giving her since infancy. It took her back to another time and another place and she remembered that her son had a father somewhere out there in the world who would never meet the little boy who made up her entire world.

"Baby, I love you," she whispered, knowing he wouldn't understand her shift in mood. Lisa pressed a kiss to his forehead and ran a hand through that dark hair he'd inherited from her and pulled him in for a hug.

He struggled slightly because he was almost eight and therefore too old for hugs, but finally heaved a great sigh and cuddled into the embrace. When she pulled away, she was smiling and he was giving her a look of utmost exasperation. "Are we done with the chick-flick moment?"

She pretended to think about it, "I suppose so…" She gave one last little squeeze and let him slide from her lap.

"I want balloons too," he announced, as if he had to reassert his dominance as the man of the house, "A lot of balloons."

Lisa felt the smile come back and pushed away all thoughts of Dean Winchester. "Whatever you want, baby. Now, go get ready for bed, and I'll come tuck you in." It was a mother-son routine he had yet to grow out of and Lisa cherished every night as he got older and older.

"Mommy?" He was standing in the archway from the living room to the foyer.

"What is it Ben?"

"I love you too," he mumbled, a blush rising in his face, and he shot her a shy loving glance at the admittance and dashed up the stairs.

Lisa leaned back against the couch cushions and savored the look, holding the brightness of his eyes in her mind until it was committed to memory like so many other Ben-moments.

There would come a time when he wouldn't call her Mommy or let her put him to bed. There would be a time when he came home past curfew grinning and slurring and she would have to ground him for drinking underage. There would come a time when Ben brought home the girl who would replace her. But the time Lisa feared the most was going to be when Ben asked about the father who wasn't there and wouldn't ever be.

But until then, he would be her baby boy and she hoped to be enough for the young man he was becoming and to be forgiven by the man he would be.