Dean wasn't fine. At all. He had been with Lisa and Ben coming up on a year, but the ache of you and Sam's loss consumed him. There were nights when he never even came to bed, he'd stay outside on the porch and cry, or just stare at the night sky and talk to you. About anything. Dean wished so badly he could hear that sweet voice again. What hurt the most was that he knew you'd probably landed in Hell. When the ground opened and took you and Sam…he'd been there for forty years. You'd be close to a hundred and twenty now. And that killed him. He wanted to do something. He wanted to kill something. His sweet girl didn't deserve to suffer through that. Not ever. Dean wished he had fallen in instead. Or at least had fallen in with you. Anything was preferable to the apple pie life he was living now. Not that he hated Lisa. But this wasn't him. And Lisa wasn't the love of his life. She never would be. After another restless sleep in bed with her, Dean gets up, casting a weary glance at her sleeping form. The first couple of months without you he would cry himself sick when he saw her next to him instead of you. Now he just felt his stomach twist. He goes downstairs to the computer, where he'd been researching a few things. He'd noticed some signs of Djinn around town, and despite his promise to you and Sam that he'd stop hunting, it was hard not to investigate.