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Goodbye Is Never Forever
Chapter Eight: Pretending To Believe The Unbelievable
Wilmington, Ohio — Motel Room — 07:34AM.
Dean stirred from his sleep, groaning as he threw a heavy arm over his eyes in a futile attempt to block the bright light he could feel against his face. With a sigh, he reluctantly opened his eyes and pulled a rough hand down his face, trying to force himself awake. He pushed himself to sit up and blinked through the sunlight streaming through the shades. Aside from the brightness that seemed to shine only over where he lay, the room was dim. The lights weren't on, and he had to adjust his vision to make out anything else around him. His eyes fell to Alison, who was sitting at the table, laptop open in front of her, surrounded by scraps of paper. It occurred to him, that was where she had been sitting when he had gone to bed. He glanced over to the other bed, there was no doubt, it hadn't been slept in.
"Have you been at that all night?" he asked her, and the concern came through in his words, still a little slurred with sleep.
Alison jumped at the sound of his voice, not having realised that he was awake, far too lost in whatever she had been reading to care. She rubbed a hand at her eyes, stinging with tiredness. "Uh, not all night, no." She shrugged. "I took a coffee break somewhere around four."
Dean sighed, shaking his head at her. "Ali, you need to sleep, kid."
"People are dying, Dean." she commented, voice dull, almost disheartened. She turned in her chair to face him. "There was another one last night."
It took Dean a moment to realise what she had meant, but then it clicked, she had changed. She was wearing the clothes she had worn when they had been to speak to the wife of one of the victims, and he knew. "Please, tell me you weren't out looking at dead bodies last night? Alone."
Alison simply gave another shrug. "I might have taken a quick trip to the crime scene." she answered, nonchalant.
"Jesus, Ali." He considered the idea of telling her it hadn't been a smart move, that she should have woken him to go with her, he even thought about listing the things that could have gone wrong, or telling her what might have happened should she have been caught, but he didn't. This was her thing, not his. She was the one calling the shots, not him. She was the one who knew what she was doing, not him. He had made the decision to go along with her, and that was what he was going to do. He had absolutely no idea what they were doing there, she did. "What happened?"
"Same deal." she muttered. "Guy hung himself, no note, no reason," She tossed her pen down to the table and sighed, defeated. "No clue."
"Alright," Dean pushed back the covers and climbed from his bed. "I've seen that look before, usually when you were trying to do math. Don't stress." He crossed the room and dropped into the chair beside her at the table. "Talk to me."
Alison regarded him for a moment, and nodded. "Okay. First guy, Matthew Johnson, couple weeks ago, hangs himself in his living room with his belt. Next guy, John Davis, few days later, hangs himself in his office with his tie. Guy after that, Mark Taylor, lamp guy. And now this one, Colin Harris, found hanging in a parking lot by his shoelaces."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "Parking lot?"
"Yeah," She sat back in her seat and ran a hand through her hair, he could see how tired she was. "None of them knew each other, I mean, apart from them all being men and hanging, there is absolutely no connection between them. Well, not that I can see, anyway."
"So," Dean concluded. "All we got is a bunch of unrelated suicides that you're pretty sure aren't suicides?"
"Bingo." she mumbled.
"Huh." Dean thought for a moment, and he smiled. "Maybe we should recruit Sammy, he'd be good at this part." he quipped. Alison huffed a laugh, but he could tell that it was forced. She was too tired to give much more of a reaction. She was stuck, and he knew her well enough that she wouldn't stop until she worked out what was going on there. There was no use fighting her on it. "Hey, have you eaten?" he pressed. "You need some breakfast in you, the brain doesn't work well on no food and no sleep, kiddo."
Alison looked up at him and smiled a little. "Where'd you hear that crap?"
Lawrence, Kansas — Home — Sixteen Months Earlier
Dean gave a soft sigh as he stared ahead at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. This day had once seemed like a lifetime away. When he had heard the date it had seemed so far into the future he had neglected to worry about it. But here it was. It had rolled around so quickly he wasn't even sure how he felt about it. It was like when the year rolls into October and everyone asks how it's almost time for Christmas again when it seems only weeks since the last one. He couldn't understand where the time had gone. The precious moments with his family that had seemed so certain, the ones he had promised himself he could cherish while he had them, they were about to come to an end.
At that point, he wasn't even sure that he remembered how to breathe. Every breath he took seemed forced, unnatural, as though the concentration he focused on it somehow changed it. He didn't know what to think, what to expect, what to feel. He was about to enter a whole new world. And a part of him was afraid.
"So," A light voice sounded behind him, and he looked through the mirror to see Alison's reflection behind him. She stood in the doorway, still wearing her pyjamas, arms folded tightly over her chest. "This is it."
Dean nodded slowly. "This is it." he confirmed. He glanced back at her over his shoulder and offered a smile.
"Wow." she commented. "You look exhausted."
"Well," He chuckled to himself, offering a shrug. "Wasn't gonna spent the last night I've got with my favourite sister sleeping, was I?"
Alison laughed. "I still can't believe you picked the Chucky movies for our last movie night."
"Hey," Dean stopped her, face serious. "Those are classics." he told her. He neglected to mention that he had chosen them because he knew that there were six movies, that somehow it was as though he could make the last night he had with his family last longer. He didn't tell her that his last night home hadn't been one he'd wanted to spend sleeping, but one where he had spent time with his sister doing what they did best—laughing at horror movies and eating junk food—as though he could ignore what was to come when the sun rose.
Alison simply rolled her eyes at him, not seeming to think anything of it. She shook her head slowly, amused, but, despite her attitude, he could see the emotion behind her eyes, even through her reflection. "Have you eaten yet?" she asked him, concerned. "I mean, it's a big day, right? The brain doesn't work well on no food and no sleep."
"You sound worried." he quipped. But it was only as he turned to face her that he truly understood the look on her face. She looked apprehensive, almost scared. She looked beyond concerned, more than worried. His sister looked ready to cry. "What's the matter?"
Alison took a short breath and smiled a little, shaky. "Look, let me just tell you this now, because I can guarantee that I'm probably gonna cry later, and I know I'll regret it if I don't say it." He frowned down at her, a little confused, but nodded to let her know that he was listening. "I'm gonna miss you, Dean, so much. I don't know how to explain it. I mean, you're just always...there. You know? Like, who's gonna stay up with me all night watching horror movies and eating candy when you're gone? Who's gonna be there for me to hang out doing stupid stuff with? Who's gonna bail me out when I get into trouble? Who's gonna be my best friend when you're gone? And, I know I'm totally rambling right now because I feel like I'm gonna cry, but," She looked up at him, tears shining in her eyes, and laughed a little. "As much as I'm gonna miss having you around, I want you to know, I'm so, so, proud of you, Dean. Really. You're the best big brother and best friend anyone could ask for, and it's not gonna be the same around here without you."
Dean blinked, as if a little taken aback, and took a step forwards. "Hey," He smiled as he pulled her towards him, wrapping his arms around her tightly. "Come on, I'm still gonna be your big brother, and I'm still gonna be your best friend, nothing is going to change any of that. I'm gonna miss you, too, kiddo." he said softly. "Like you wouldn't even believe. But, goodbye is never forever. I'll be back, Ali, I promise."
Alison nodded, and he could feel her tears against the front of his t-shirt. "You better be back."
Motel Room — 08:12AM.
When Dean returned to the motel room again with breakfast he sighed, his sister had barely moved an inch from where she sat at the table. Her laptop was still open in front of her, and her head was leaning against her arm before it. Her eyes were heavy, and her finger repeatedly tapped one of the keys with so little enthusiasm he was sure she was ready to pass out right there. She looked ready to collapse. He shook his head to himself and kicked the door closed behind himself, turning on the light as he entered. "And what, dare I ask, are you doing now?" he pressed, bemused.
"Stalking the dead guy on Facebook." she answered, as though it was such a normal thing to say. "He's so boring. All he seems to do is go to these office parties with his secretary and drink white white spritzers."
Dean pulled a face. "Seriously?"
"Oh, no, sorry," She held up a hand in way of an apology. "He fishes, too."
Dean raised an eyebrow as he placed the bag of food down on the table and shrugged out of his jacket. "He fishes? Why?"
She scoffed. "I know, right?"
He stepped forwards and watched over her shoulder as she flipped through the pictures. And, after two or three, he understood the look of boredom on her face. "This guy married?" he asked, curious.
Alison frowned, confused. "Yeah, why?"
"And," He reached out and held her hand before she could flip to another picture. "Is that his wife?"
She sat up a little straighter and clicked on the woman standing with him in the picture, opening up her profile. "No, I guess not."
"This chick, she's in a few of his pictures, don't you think?" He threw her a look, but he could see that she wasn't following. "They seem a little...close...to you?"
"What?" She raised an eyebrow. "You think he was having an affair?"
Dean shrugged, taking a drink of his coffee. "Who knows." he said, nonchalant. "Maybe the guy isn't as boring as he seems." He looked down to her when she didn't respond. Her brow was furrowed, and he recognised the look immediately. "You look like you've had an idea. What is it?"
"You might be onto something there." she said, glancing over a couple of papers on the table. He ignored the fact that they were clearly photocopies of police reports. "The first guy who hung himself, he was found by Maddie Smith. She's a local babysitter."
"So?"
"So the guy had no kids." she said.
"Wow." Dean shook his head slowly, giving a dry laugh. "What a way to find out your husband's doing the dirty."
Alison rolled her eyes. "And, according to you, this guy was banging his secretary."
"So, what?" Dean pressed. "You thinking these guys are all cheats? Is that really the kind of thing a ghost kills over?"
"Well," She seemed to contemplate her response for a moment. "Not just any ghost." She looked up at him with a smirk. "Sounds like a woman in white."
"And, what's a woman in white?" he asked, not following her at all. Honestly, he had no idea what she was talking about. "Is that a ghost?"
"Pretty much. Legend usually goes the woman finds out her husband is unfaithful, and in, you know, temporary madness, murders their children before killing themselves." she explained.
Dean blinked, not sure how to take what he was being told. He was trying his best to keep up with her, but she seemed to be on another level. "And, what? Her ghost kills anyone who cheats on someone?"
"Exactly." There was a new found look of excitement on her face, and any sign of weariness had long since vanished. "Dude, you're a genius."
"Uh, thanks." He frowned a little, not entirely sure what he had done. "So, woman in white, what does that mean? What do we do?"
"Research."
His face fell slightly. "Awesome." he muttered. Alison turned back to her laptop, and he could see that she was more than prepared to begin, but he wasn't taking it. As far as he was concerned, she was calling the shots on the ghost hunting, but not about anything else. He slammed the laptop closed before she even had the chance to get near it. "Ah, ah, ah. You eat first."
"Dean—"
"Now."
Alison blinked, eyes wide, and for a long moment she looked speechless. "You sounded just like dad then."
"I know." he admitted slowly, a little concerned. "That was weird. But, still, food first."
Begrudgingly, she nodded and took the bag from him. He smiled a little at the attitude, it was something he'd missed about her. There, in that moment, he knew exactly who she was. He knew he was sitting with his sister. It wasn't the girl he had appeared to come back to, the one who had been sneaking around and lying to their parents, it was the kid who didn't like to be told what to do, the one whose determination didn't falter once she had her mind set on it—no matter how insane it seemed—the girl who could tell him anything, and never had to fake anything around him. He still wasn't completely sold on the idea that they were hunting a monster, but he knew that she believed it, and that was enough for him to still be sitting there.
At times, he knew, he had far too much faith in his sister. Even when logic told him that everything about a situation was wrong, he was still more than willing to give her the chance to prove herself.
Dean didn't believe in ghosts, he didn't believe in monsters or spirits or life after death. He didn't believe in much of anything.
But it was clear, Alison did.
And a part of him wasn't sure how far she was willing to go to prove herself to him. Was he really comfortable with the idea of going to dig up a grave? Wasn't that what she had said they needed to do? He was still waiting for the punch line to drop when, in reality, he knew it wasn't going to happen. She wasn't kidding around. He was more than sure of that. He just couldn't make himself believe in what she was trying to tell him was really out there.
But, in the hour after breakfast that he sat there and watched her stare at her laptop screen, while she scribbled down unreadable things on the notepad beside her, while her eyes frantically scanned the screen before her, he could see just how seriously she seemed to take things. Her fingers typed furiously at the keys. There was no interrupting her. There was no stopping her. There was no getting between her and whatever she was looking for. Alison was determined, she was intent, and, by the sudden look of surprise on her face, he was sure she had found something.
Her eyes never left the screen, still scanning the words there. "Hey." she said, trying to grab his attention, unaware that he had been watching her all along.
Dean rose from where he sat on one of the beds, eyebrows raised. "What is it?" he asked, curious. "You got something?"
"I think so." He crossed the room and moved to stand behind her, crouching to look over her shoulder at the news article open on her laptop screen. There was an old family photograph attached to it—a couple and two children. "This woman, Dianne Winters, in 1932 she murdered her two children before hanging herself in her bedroom."
"Huh." Dean nodded slowly. "So, you think she's our ghost?"
Alison shrugged. "Only one way to find out." She tilted her head back to look up at him. "We gotta dig her up."
He sighed deeply. "I was afraid you were gonna say that."
With a roll of her eyes, she closed the laptop. "You don't have to come with me, you know." There was a smirk playing on her face, and he knew exactly what it meant. "I can do it alone. If you're scared."
"Hey." Dean stopped her. "I'm coming with you. Whether you want me to or not. I've seen Poltergeist, and, if you are right, and you're not, you know, crazy, I think I can handle it."
"Wow." She huffed a laugh. "Still think I'm crazy, huh? I'll show you something crazy, Deano." She stood from her chair and brushed past him with a grin. "You'll see."
And, with that, she disappeared into the bathroom. He wasn't sure he liked the look on her face. It usually meant something bad was coming his way, and, in their current situation, he didn't like to think what that could be. They were going to dig up a grave. They were going to dig up a dead body, an actual skeleton. What part of that wasn't completely insane? He had no idea how he was still going along with anything she was saying. He didn't believe it for a second.
So why was he still so prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt? Why did he still have so much trust in her?
Why was he so willing to help her? He was ready to dig up a corpse. It didn't even sound real in his own head. He couldn't imagine anything happening when they did dig it up, he couldn't for a second comprehend how she thought there would be a ghost there. Nothing was going to happen. Maybe that was what she needed to see for her to finally understand that ghosts weren't real. Maybe that was why he was still going along with her, because he wanted her to understand it for herself, he wanted to help show her that what she was saying wasn't true, as much as she believed it. It wasn't real. He knew that. And he needed to help her see that, too.
