Lisa hadn't been faring much better. 'Life' in Marrowood obviously took it's toll on everyone who didn't belong there, which she was pretty sure was the point of the whole place. Either to grind them down to nothing, emotionally, or drive them completely batshit crazy. Lisa had been feeling both the effects for weeks now. Maybe months.
Hell, with how her memory was working now? She could've been here for years. She didn't know anymore.
And Dean, who she'd pretty much determined as being the source of her particular breed of crazy, hadn't been around. Either he was avoiding her or they were avoiding each other- that was another thing Lisa didn't know anymore. She had memories of him she shouldn't have; not deja vu or dreams, not dizzy spells. Actual memories with emotion connected to them, but no linear time line. She loved him, but she couldn't remember meeting him. She was angry with him, but didn't know why. She was terrified for him, but with a blank void in her mind where that fear should be.
All of this left her brain feeling like swiss cheese and her heart in a constant, inconsolable ache, and it'd lead her to the bar a lot more than usual lately. Last night was no different, and the loud transmission that jarred everyone awake or sober enough to hear it shocked her brain into no-sleep mode. She was nursing a hangover headache when she caught the knock at the door. Opening it to see Sam did nothing to alleviate the idea that she was on a slow spiral into madness.
Because he was connected to her, too- and again, she had no fucking idea why.
"Dean's not here," she told him simply, looking every bit as exhausted and emotionally racked as she sounded. At least it wasn't hostile. The familiarity that came with Sam was at least something to hold onto, which was why she backed into the open door to let him in.