There was no way Lisa was going to sleep that night. She stayed awake- and alert- finding any little thing to do in desperate attempts to keep her mind occupied for several hours. Yoga helped, but only to a point. She cleaned the entire apartment, checked the phone network about a million times, tried to communicate with their 'ghost' for the hundredth time (and got little more than soft sighs in reply). Cleaned again. She settled on taking a hot shower sometime near two am to settle her tense muscles and overactive mind. She'd only just gotten dressed again when she heard the door open.
At a near trotting pace, she rushed out of her bedroom to the foyer, but stopped dead in her tracks at what she saw. The image slammed against her like a physical wall, knocking out her breath. Pushing her heart straight up to the top of her throat. From Dean's desperate face to his brother's lifeless body and back, she was frozen for a good three horrified heartbeats, until her brain had a chance to reboot.
But it didn't reboot properly.
On thoughtless instinct, with a ghostly "-oh god!" on her breath, Lisa rushed to them both. She checked Sam's lukewarm neck for a pulse and knew she'd find nothing. She looked at Dean's face in all it's emotional horror- and behind her eyes flashed a very real memory of the same exact face, standing at her door. After the same exact loss.
That's all she saw. Her reality switched back and forth, between there in the dark living room in Marrowood, with her arms around his shoulders and his sobs buried in her hair, and the stoop of her house in Battle Creek, hugging Dean- this Dean- in her doorway after he'd lost Sam- this Sam.
"...It'll be alright," she heard herself whisper, shaken and fragile, in reality and the memory. "I'll make it alright..."