Dean's POV

Sit down and talk to Alice on her terms. That was what I knew I had to do. If I could get her to trust me, I could make things work between us. Then I could help her heal from the things that were done to her.

I knocked on her door and jiggled the knob. Of course it was locked, "Alice? It's Dean. Can you open up?"

The lock clicked open and a big green eye peered through a crack, "Are you done sulking? Or are you going to throw another tantrum over the papercut I just got?" I chuckled. Yup, she was definitely my kid. The door swung open and Alice plopped down on the bed.

"So what's up?" she asked.

I took a deep breath and sat down next to her, "I'm sorry for the way I reacted earlier."

"Well it was a bit cliché," I blinked in confusion and waited for her to elaborate, "Long lost father sees the scars on his kid's back and instantly assumes that she's been abused her entire life."

"I wasn't upset over the scars," I admitted.

"What was it then?"

"Your tattoo. It's a list isn't it?" I knew I was right when Alice sucked in a breath.

"How the hell do you know about lists?" she demanded. I told her about my friend at Sonny's and she nodded.

"Mine used to be written on a box. I started tattooing them when I was fourteen."

Finally, an honest answer from the kid. Maybe I was starting to get through to her, "How many names are there?"

Alice looked down, clenching her fists in the sheets, "Twenty-three. Including the family the family I was adopted by."

"You were adopted?" That was a surprise. I thought that she'd grown up in foster care. She nodded.

"Yeah, as when I was about three. Well I say I was adopted, but they were foster parents who treated me like I was theirs. They took care of me until I was about six, when they had their own kid."

"And what? They just sent you back?" she nodded. How could somebody do that to a kid? Babies are tough, everybody knows that. But I'm pretty sure that parents aren't supposed to send their oldest kid away when they have a second child. That's just wrong.

"Yeah. I'll admit that it was a bit of a shock when they told me, but I got used to it pretty fast," she said quietly, "I wasn't their daughter, and they had to make sure that their own kid got everything he needed. I was just a burden at that point."

How could she think that? How could anyone think that? She was six years old! Little kids aren't burdens, they're little kids. Yeah they can be a pain-in-the-ass, but they sure as hell aren't burdens. So what if she wasn't their daughter? If I ever met the assholes, I was going to tear them a new one.

"Look, Alice, I know that you were in some not-so-great homes and I know they messed you up. And I'm not saying that I can ever completely understand what you must've gone through at some of those places, but I want to help you."

Alice's POV

I had never heard someone say something like that. Dean wanted to help me. He wasn't pretending to understand or trying to stroke his own ego. He wanted to help. It was like something clicked into place between us, and I couldn't stay guarded anymore.

"The names with the stars were the ones that were abusive. There are three," I whispered. Was this the right call? "Six families treated me well, but things happened that made them have to send me back. Everyone else gave me what I needed and didn't abuse me, but they weren't exactly kind."

Dean leaned forward, resting his elbows on her knees. I studied his expression while he took in what I'd told him. Emotions danced across his eyes: disbelief, anger, horror, frustration, and most of all, guilt. He was still blaming himself for all of this.

"Did you go to school?" he asked.

No more lying, "I did as a child, but I stopped before I really hit high school. I spend a lot of time in libraries, though. Learned French and read Shakespeare, so I didn't miss much."

That was hard to admit. When I tell people that I didn't go to high school, they usually think I'm a slacker or an idiot. I am neither of those things. The only reason that I stopped going to school was that I was tired of being picked on for being a foster kid. Even if I didn't tell anyone, it was hard to miss. Your clothes always smell like garbage bags and the teachers are always keeping an eye on you like you're going to pull a gun and start shooting up the place.

"I'm sorry," Dean whispered. Again with the apologizing. I was getting fed up with this.

"You know what? I'm sick and tired of all this self-pity. If you want to blame someone for my winding up in foster care, blame my mother. She knew I existed, and she left me in an alley for someone to find. She didn't tell you she was pregnant, and there's no way you could've known. So get over it. Yeah, I had a shitty childhood, but it wasn't your fault, and it's not like I never smiled, so just get over it," I stopped and took a breath.

I realized that I was pacing around the room and quickly sat down, looking at the floor. I'd said too much, and now I was going to see some kind of repercussion. Clenching my fists, I tried to control my breathing and calm down. I was not going to panic now. I was not going to panic. He wasn't going to hurt me.

"You're right," he said. I glanced up, was he for real? "I've been an ass, haven't I? You've got your past, and your problems. I need to step up and be there for you and wallowing in my own guilt isn't going to help."

Finally! I'd started to think that I'd never get anywhere with him. Now that he'd recognized that, we could actually build a relationship. Maybe. If he wanted to.


Sorry for the short chapter, guys. However, I am happy to announce the end of the tension/heaviness. Next chapter will be fluffy family bonding! (cheers) Also, I love suggestions! If there's anything you'd like to see, leave a review or shoot me a PM and I will use it at some point! As usual, don't forget to favourite, follow and review! They make me happier than a monkey at a banana farm!