"Mr. Winchester..." A distant voice fled through Dean's head.

"Dean." Someone kicked him under the table.

"What?" His head shot up quickly.

He had fallen asleep in class... again.

He rubbed his eyes and apologized to the professor before turning to the girl that had kicked him.

"Did you even get any sleep last night?" Lisa whispered.

"No. Not really." He grumbled leaning over on his hand.

"What's wrong with you? Are you sick or something?"

"Something like that." He yawned.

He closed his eyes and hoped he wouldn't get woken up a second time. This was the most sleep he had gotten in a few days. He couldn't help himself; it was hard not to just stir in bed and worry about how Cas was, or how his family was treating him. The best thing Dean could try to do was drown it all in alcohol, and even that went a little too far last night. He knew Castiel was at the funeral right now and it broke his heart to know he was grieving on his own. He hoped Gabriel was being a decent human being for just this once.

"Deaaaan." Lisa whined, hitting him on the arm.

"Lisa what?" He snapped back.

"What the hell is going on with you?"

"Nothing... okay? I just... I... not right now." He mumbled.

"Are you drunk?" She whispered.

"Have I been drinking? Yes. Am I drunk? No." Dean rolled his eyes.

"Okay why were you drinking on a Sunday night?"

"Rough day?"

"Bull shit."

"It puts me to sleep alright."

"And why do you need help sleeping?"

"Something's been on my mind." He mumbled.

"And what would that be?" She eagerly nudged him.

Dean looked down and scribbled in between the lines of his notebook paper with a black pen from Bobby's Auto Repair. He didn't dare look up at Lisa, he knew he had already screwed himself over from saying this much. She was going to ask more questions. That's what she always does... gets to the bottom of things.

"Dean?" She changed tone.

"Hmm?" He grumbled back.

"What are you doing after this class?"

"Going home and eating why?"

"I'm coming with you." Lisa stated, sitting up straight.

"Um... alright. I'm just making mac and cheese, but if you want some go for it." He squinted his eyes at the board, trying to scribble down what seemed important.

"That works. I mean we grew up on your mac and cheese." She smiled at him.

"You're not wrong." Dean laughed, remembering the times when his dad would be passed out on the couch and Dean would be responsible for feeding all the neighborhood kids on their doorstep.

They alternated houses everyday. After playing at the park at the end of their block they would all run to someone's house where their mom would make dinner. Except Dean didn't have a mother, and he barely had a father... so he had to make it himself and the only easy and affordable option was always mac and cheese. Dean had become quite the expert by the time he was 10.

But why did Lisa want to have lunch with him now?