Dean was already three beers in. Okay, three and a half beers and one shot of whiskey. He'd been waiting for Alice Dennings in the little dive diner/bar since 11a.m.

Killing the hour until she showed was not easy. Anxiety ate at him. He was dying to see how she would react to his lifestyle and all she'd witnessed last night. He'd half expected her to be spooked enough to turn tail and run. Only, a seriously creepy bout of spying later, and he was intensely relieved to learn she had holed up in her room, pacing the night away.

When she entered, the bell above the door tinkling, he immediately regretted the shot he'd taken, his stomach swimming in its own juices. Nervous, Deano? Really? Get yourself together man!

Ally's beautiful big eyes widened on him, as if she half-expected that he'd not be here. She inched her way over to the booth he'd selected, taking the seat across from him. "Is she okay?" Was the first question from her lips.

Dean nodded, understanding she meant Buffy. "She is. She's tough for her size, trust me."

A curt nod. "I figured as much."

The words were a minor jab at Dean's ass being handed to him by the tiny slayer. He ignored it. If he'd wanted to take Buffy down, he probably could have…or, that's at least what he told himself. Denial, party of one!

"So, I have questions," she blurted, placing her hands on the table in front of her and splaying them out, all business-like.

Dean chuckled at the sight. His scientist was the epitome of curious. Not yours, Dean. Not yours.

She frowned heavily at his reaction. "I'm serious."

A scolding? Oh, this was going to be good. "I'm not here to lie to you," he said in all honesty. He didn't want to lie to Alice Dennings…but he would, if it meant keeping her safe.

"Right," she remarked, skepticism coating her tone. "Before I divulge anything, I need to know how you found out about the forest."

Dean nodded. "A family friend tipped me off. It's his job to keep an open eye out for abnormal happenings like Snowden."

"Right," she repeated. "Okay, so your 'friend', he heard of the suicides and sent you to investigate? Do you work for a secret branch of the government? Or, since your brother is involved, perhaps just the opposite. Is that why you have false credentials? To skirt around the law while you snoop on private property? Do you have other badges? Homeland security perhaps? CIA?"

Damn…the girl was good. She'd put more together than he had given her credit for. "I suppose underestimating you would be…not very smart."

Alice's slate eyes widened. "So that's a yes." She pinched the bridge of her nose as if a headache was on its way. "Great, just great. Your specific job title is…?"

She left the question open-ended. Dean filled in the blank. "Hunter."

"Of…?"

"I think you know."

Alice's small, perfect nose scrunched up in distaste. Dean dragged his beer across the table, situating it in front of her and gesturing for her to have a sip to take the edge off. She drained the bottle, eyes wild and unfixed. "Okay… So, okay. Ghosts exist. Cool. And you, uh, hunt them."

The question was rhetorical, so Dean let it go. "And you study…?" He inquired in the same fashion. Two can play this game, little Alice.

Her brows lifted. "Environmental Science. Four-year program."

"What year are you now?"

"A senior."

"And you are going to school in Kansas?"

"The university of, yes."

"How did you find out about the suicides in Snowden? Most are uncharted deaths, off the record kind of stuff. The rest has been kept somewhat under wraps. The news hit this small town, but all the way in Kansas?"

"Rumors mostly, and from uncredible sources to boot. But I did some digging and the seismic readings found here were no joke. The entire expanse of woods acts as if an earthquake is about to start cracking open to the forest floor. Only, that has yet to happen. I think the waves are making people confused, affecting them, here." She tapped her temple, insinuating that everyone going to Snowden had no desire to die beforehand. As far as Dean could tell, she was only half right.

"The death toll is too high for it to be all accidents of nature. Understand?"

Alice stared at Dean, her eyes fathomless in their calculations. He tried not to break the contact, but the small brunette scientist-to-be was making him rethink this lunch "date." Perhaps he should distance himself from the girl. She was a distraction, and in his world distractions led to death.

The only problem was, he didn't want to go anywhere. Not without Ally.

The waitress from the other day flounced over, taking Alice's beer order and raising her brows when Dean waved off a refill. He'd had about enough for the moment. The last thing he needed was to get groggy brain and be outwitted by the brainy brown-haired beauty in front of him.

Alice took a long swig of her beer, acting like it was a life elixir. "Okay, so…your—Buffy. What is she? I need answers. What exactly happened last night?"

Dean sank back in his booth, eyeing Alice's rigid pose. The girl was inquisitive to a fault. He wondered how she'd made it to her twenty-second year without too many problems following her around. He decided to breeze over her first question, answering the second instead. "I can't say for sure. That's what I need your help with. I have an idea, one you may not be on board with hearing."

She sighed, as if she truly didn't want to hear. "I'm all ears."

"The activity you have been picking up, the frequencies, are often found in cases where vengeful spirits collaborate. So to speak."

"Collaborate? As in working together? You think the dead souls at Snowden are…recruiting people? Driving them to kill themselves, to a better an army?"

Dean cocked his head at the girl in front of him. Damn, she was full of surprises. Not only did she put two and two together, but she threw in her own pairings to sweeten the pot. Her brilliance had him secretly proud to be on her team. "Very astute, Lyssa."

Alice made a sour face at his use of nickname for her. Or perhaps it was the backhanded compliment that proceeded it. Either way, he suddenly found himself craving to make her smile. He hadn't seen a full-blown one of those yet, and he was curious as all hell what her laugh would be like.

"Hello?" she ventured. "What are you staring at?" She swiped at her face, clearly self-conscious.

He cleared his throat, embarrassed he was caught with his hand in the mental-cookie jar. "Nothing. Forget it."

"So, I guess the real question is; what or who in Snowden is collecting souls, and what for?"

"War. Revenge. Spirits are simple creatures. They have one-track minds. Righting wrongs becomes their only obsession after death, even if they have to hurt innocent people along the way to do so."

Alice's brows rose. "How long have you been 'hunting'?"

"Long enough," he replied, his tone suggesting she leave it at that. "We will know more when Buffy starts talking sense. She has been in and out for a couple hours now and nothing she's been saying has been any help. Sam is watching over her for the time being. Anything else to add to the research pile?"

Alice leaned back, as if gauging whether to impart her final secrets to Dean. The look was so damned cute, so utterly fascinating. He was on the freakin' edge of his seat.

"One thing." Obviously, she wasn't too much on the fence about him, or she'd have stewed over it for longer. "I knew one of these deceased."

Dean's mind tripped over the new information, raising the ground like a jackhammer to the head. Instantly, his good mood evaporated. "Explain."


Alice couldn't help but make a face at Dean's abruptness. He rubbed her the wrong way, yet…she wanted nothing more than to share her past secrets with him. Why? He was a virtual stranger! Still, the way he looked at her, as if he could see inside her soul. And the way he said her self-imposed nickname; li-SUH. Chills threatened to chase away her reason.

"I, uh. His name was Jackson."

Dean's expression was a bevy of emotion. Anger. Curiosity. Confusion. "Explain further."

She gritted her teeth in frustration. "I'm out on a limb here. Would you refrain from treating me like a means to an end?"

Dean's lip curled at the corner, but his humor didn't return. "Explain, further…please."

Ally couldn't help but wonder if she was doing the right thing. She hadn't told anyone, especially her roomie Emily (the gossip) and most especially, her father (the Dean of Kansas State)…about Jackson's disappearance. Hell, she hadn't even told them about his presence in her life. It was none of their damned business anyway.

"Jackson Borne. He was…we were…involved." Dean's eyes widened and he licked his lips, as if restraining some choice words he thought were better kept inside. "For a short time. I mean, it was nothing serious," she added quickly, unsure why she felt the need to assuage his mild upset. If he was upset at all, she couldn't tell anymore. He kept so much sheltered, hidden. He was like a damned Rubik's cube.

"And suddenly everything makes 100% more sense. That's why Buffy was going on an on about the forest wanting you. Why it let you stroll through there time and again, untouched."

Alice shook her head. "No, that can't be. It affected me the same as everyone else from what you said of that day I—the day I tried to…you know."

"Something's not adding up." Dean shook his head, appearing deep in thought. He yanked his phone from his pocket and dialed. "Sammie? I got a lead." A pause. Dean's eyes slammed into Alice's and her stomach plummeted. His gaze was intense, as if it held a warning for her to remain silent. He spoke slowly, like his words were meant as much for her as his brother. "Dig up every shred of info you can on a Jackson Borne. B-O-R-N-E. There is a connection to our little scientist wannabe. Yep."

A beat of quiet consumed her. Dean's face remained placid. "Okay. Wait, what? He died when?"

Long strands of silence threatened to hang her. Ally's heart skipped an important step. Dean closed his eyes, as if soaking in a terrible tidbit of information. When his green eyes found hers again, there was stark fear in them.

Fear…for her?

Immediately Alice knew that these brothers were more than what they appeared. That they had ways of digging up terrible secrets, and ways of putting down even more terrible creatures. Because somehow, some damned way, the younger Winchester had dug up the only shred of information she had been completely unwilling to divulge to Dean. The part of her life she kept hidden, even from herself most days.

That Jackson had been dead when they'd met. Alice Dennings had been dating a ghost.

Dean snapped the phone shut with an aggression that sent a sliver of fear down her spine. He leaned forward, grasping a shred of her brown hair between his fingers and flipping it up, watching it fall back against her pale face as if enthralled by her. The action was a tender one, yet his voice held an edge to it, stinging as he said, "Oh, Lissa, it looks like you have some serious explaining to do." He leaned back, eyeing her like she was Pandora's box, commanding, "Spill. Now."