Chapter Forty-Two

The research was getting them nowhere. Sam and Dean had gone to the dead professor's office to check it over with EMF meters and had come up with nothing. Dean had allowed Alyson to stay at the motel once they'd taken every precaution to keep out everything that could mean her harm.

Besides, he didn't want her around whatever she'd come across the day before. Though aside from Aly's feelings, there was nothing to point to anything other than a douchebag professor jumping out of his office window – or maybe being pushed out of it if the story about him having someone with him at the time was true.

Sam had checked the history of the school and building; it was clean. No one had committed suicide there, and no one had died a violent death. Dean was ninety-five percent certain that they weren't dealing with a haunting.

But they were back at square one. They would have to wait to see if something else happened. If nothing happened within a few days, they could move on.

The watched the news that night just to see if they would mention the professor, because maybe they had missed something. Nothing new was mentioned about him. There was, however, something else. A college student was on the screen now, claiming to have been abducted by aliens.

"Hey, that's the guy I talked to yesterday," Alyson said. "Curtis . . . something."

"Dude's nuts," Dean said. "There's no such thing as aliens."

"He didn't seem nuts yesterday," Alyson countered. "In fact, he was the skeptic of the two. Said the ghost story was just an urban legend."

"So . . . not unhinged," Sam said.

"No. A little full of himself, maybe, but not unhinged."

"Hey, you wanna go talk to him?" Dean asked. "Maybe there's just something on campus that likes messing with people's heads."

"If that's the case, that's not good. It could mess with our heads."

"Yeah, that's not good."

Later that night, the Winchester's and Aly ended up at the local bar. It was a hot spot for the college students. They hadn't expected to find Curtis there, but he was there seated at a table taking shot after shot.

Alyson had to admit that she couldn't really blame him. If she thought she'd been abducted by aliens, she might want a few drinks too.

"He thinks I'm a local reporter," Alyson said. "Maybe he'll talk to me."

If she had thought about it earlier, they could have gone to an ID picture place to get fake press passes to back up her story, but as it was, it was too late and he hadn't asked for an ID before. Hopefully, he was just as careless now.

When Alyson sat beside Curtis, he was fine until he saw Sam and Dean behind her.

"I don't want to talk about it, and I don't want a story done about me."

"I'm not allowed to report anything you don't give me permission to write."

Sure, there was freedom of the press, but even if she'd been a real journalist, she wouldn't have written a story about this without the victim's consent. Not to mention, any self-respecting newspaper wouldn't print anything about an alien abduction.

"Actually, I remembered talking to you and I wanted to see if you were okay."

"You didn't even get my last name. How'd you find me?"

"Saw you on the news and got your name that way. Figured if you weren't here, someone here would know where you were. So . . . what happened to you? Off the record."

Curtis still looked hesitant. By the looks he was giving Sam and Dean, they were the reasons he wasn't talking.

"I'll buy you another drink."

"You won't believe me. Nobody does."

"Try us," she said.

Alyson's sympathy voice could rival Sam's when she wanted it to even though she was normally a tell-it-to-you-straight type of person. Right now, though, she could tell Curtis needed someone to believe him. Something had happened and he needed someone on his side.

Dean sat down beside Alyson while Sam remained standing, though he did move to the side.

"They reporters too?"

"Yeah, but don't worry. They won't print anything you don't want."

"How can you be sure?"

Alyson shrugged and grinned. "They'll do what I tell 'em."

Dean quirked an eyebrow up, causing Alyson's grin to widen. Sam tried to suppress a smile and mostly succeeded, but Alyson still saw the gesture.

Curtis downed one of his shots and then started speaking. The story was that he had blacked out and had lost time. When he woke up, he didn't know where he was. The aliens he described were white with black eyes. The creatures had had big heads.

"Then what?" Sam asked, sitting down.

"They did tests on me and, um . . ." He took another shot. "They, uh . . . they probed me."

Sam turned his head away. Alyson was surprised that he seemed to be keeping himself from laughing. Sam wasn't usually so insensitive.

"They probed you?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. They probed me." He made it clear that it happened more than once.

Alyson sat there, blinking and not knowing what to say. It sounded like every alien abduction story she'd ever heard, but . . . aliens weren't real. She'd never believed they were real.

"Ya know, that's not even the worst of it," Curtis said.

"That's not?" Dean asked. "How could it get any worse?"

"They made me slow dance. It wrapped its arms around me and everything."

"Slow dance? With an alien?"

Curtis nodded.

"Where were you when . . ." Sam trailed off.

"In front of the place where Professor Cox died. There's a circle or something near where it happened." He looked at the table where the empty shot glasses were. "Where's my drink?"

Alyson looked at Dean, who nodded. They guy had told them everything they needed. She could give him the money for the drink.

The path to Crawford Hall was dark, which made sense because it was nighttime. More importantly, though, was that it wasn't crowded. The three hunters had gone there right after talking to Curtis, and Curtis hadn't been lying.

There was something there: A burn mark in the form of a circle. It seemed to have been made by a jet engine.

"What the hell?" Dean asked.

"I dunno," Sam said.

"No, seriously, dude, what the hell?"

"I dunno," Sam repeated, frustrated. "I mean, first the haunting, now this? The timing alone, there's gotta be some kind of connection here."

"You mean between the angry spirit and the sexed-up E.T? What could the connection possibly be?" Dean asked.

"I dunno, but . . . Curtis was in that professor's class," Alyson said and looked at Dean. "Are we thinkin' the same thing did this?"

Dean hesitated because he wasn't sure. But . . . "What are the chances of two different things in one place?"

"Good point," Sam said. "But are we believing that this was an alien abduction?"

"I don't believe in aliens," Alyson said firmly.

"Yeah, there's never been any proof that they're real," Dean agreed.

"Then what's that?" Sam asked, pointing at the burnt circle of grass.

"I don't know," Dean said. He was as frustrated as Sam was. "Maybe if we talked to one of his frat brothers, we could find something out."

"Maybe," Alyson agreed. "But do you mind if I sit this one out? I don't wanna deal with a bunch of frat boys."

"I can do this one on my own if you want to stay with her," Sam offered.

Dean nodded. "Thanks, Sammy. We'll wait in the car."

Alyson definitely wasn't the type to go to frat parties. Neither was Sam, really, but at least he'd been to a few. To be honest, Dean was glad Sam didn't mind doing this on his own. Aly didn't do well in crowds anyway, but being in a crowd full of guys that might just get handsy with her . . . it wouldn't end well. She might even get freaked out. Sometimes she froze when he was touching her, and she loved him.

By the time they got to the Impala it was raining. They were both wet and cold. It was the middle of February, so of course they were cold. Aly was shivering, even.

Dean turned the car on and the heat shortly followed. He pulled Aly closer for her sake and his – he was freezing too.

"So . . . you haven't said a word about today," Dean said.

"Today?" She looked up at him. "Ghosts and aliens."

"No. Today," Dean said and grinned. "February 14th."

Alyson tensed suddenly. "Valentine's Day."

"Yeah . . ."

Why had she tensed? What was wrong? Was there something wrong?

"I wasn't even thinking about it," she admitted. "I just assumed we wouldn't celebrate it. I mean, you don't even like celebrating your birthday. So . . . And when you think about it . . . you should every year because you never know when it's gonna be your last. Especially with what we do."

Alyson must've realized what she'd just said because she buried her face against his chest.

"Why don't you stop me when I do that?" she asked. He could actually feel the warmth from where the blood had rushed to her face.

"Because you're cute when you rant. Anyway, I know we should have talked about it, but I assumed you weren't the type to celebrate, so . . ."

"I think we assume too much," she said, looking up at him again.

"I, uh . . . want to give you something."

"Dean –"

"No, wait. Before you say anything . . . it's not something I spent money on."

Alyson pulled away slightly, which was okay now that the heat was circulating the car properly. She looked at him, curiosity in her eyes.

Dean swallowed nervously and he noticed when she glanced at his throat. She didn't miss much when it came to him – or when it came to anything really. She was almost OCD when it came to her observations.

After taking a deep breath, he pulled out a small box from his pocket. The box was about three inches in length and in width. It was red and made out of leather.

Inside was the ring his dad had given him for this very reason, to give to Alyson.

Alyson still didn't know what was inside, though, because she hadn't opened it yet. In fact, she hadn't even touched the box. She was just staring at it, blinking every few seconds. She looked terrified, to be honest.

"Dean . . ." She took a deep breath. "Please tell me that's not an engagement ring. You're not . . . um, proposing, right?"

Dean couldn't help it. He burst out laughing.

"What? No! Trust me, even I know not to propose in a car, no matter how great she is."

Just like that, all the tension left Alyson's body and she grabbed for the box. Apparently, she had some issues she needed to work out, but she was fine and Dean was glad.

"There's some stuff I want to say," he said. "but I don't know when Sam's gonna be back, and I don't want him to catch me in the middle of sayin' what I wanna say."

If he was interrupted . . . he might not be able to finish later.

"Did you want to wait for me to open this?" she asked. She'd been about to open it but had stopped abruptly when he'd begun to speak.

Dean didn't really want her to wait, but between his nervousness and her almost freak out, which he would be bringing up later, they had lost precious time.

"You don't mind?" he asked. "We can send Sam out tomorrow for food and we can talk then."

Alyson nodded and slowly gave the box back to Dean.

"Lead me not into temptation and all that," she said.

He grinned, took the box, and pulled her to him. He placed a lingering kiss on her lips, gratified when she shivered against him.

Sam sat in the backseat when he got to the car. Dean was probably going to pitch a fit because he was soaked from the rain and was dragging water into the Impala and onto the seats.

"So, the frat guys think Curtis is crazy. They know something happened, but they don't believe it's aliens," Sam said. "In fact, one of them said Curtis had it coming to him."

"Why?"

"Curtis is the pledge master, and he got off on embarrassing the new guys. Hazing, things like that."

"Isn't hazing illegal?" Alyson asked.

"Yeah, but unless it's reported there's nothing anyone can do, really?"

"Okay, well, at least there's a connection now," Dean said, starting the car.

"Between what?"

"The professor and the frat guy. They're both dicks."

"True," Alyson said. "I mean, the professor guy had a wife, cheated on her, used his fame to get in his students' pants. And Curtis . . . Well, he liked embarrassing people."

"That's a connection?" Sam asked.

"You got anything better to go on, I'd love to hear it," Dean said. "I mean, think about it. A philandering professor gets a dead girl, a pledge master gets hazed . . ."

"It's almost like they're getting a taste of their own medicine. Or . . . Well, exactly like that."

"So you think someone or something is dishing out punishment?"

"That's what it seems like to me," Dean replied.

"We can research when we get back to the motel," Sam said.

But he didn't know what they would find. He didn't know of anything that could cause a dead girl to kill someone and cause someone to think he'd been abducted by aliens.

"Hey, have you guys seen my computer?" Sam asked.

They had gotten back to the motel not too long ago, and he wanted to begin researching. That was hard to do without his laptop.

He could've sworn he'd left it on the table. He'd been using it earlier.

"I haven't seen it," Alyson said.

"Well, I left it right here."

"You obviously didn't," Dean said.

"We keep the door locked. We never let any maids in," Sam said.

"Looks like you lost it, Poindexter."

"No. Somebody obviously took it."

"Maybe somebody has been in here, then," Alyson said. "I mean, my phone is missing, and the note I left yesterday disappeared. Maybe we should check with the front desk, ask if they've sent anyone here."

"Yeah, okay." That was actually a great idea. "I'll go do that now."

He wanted his computer back just as much as he wanted to know who took it. In normal circumstances, Sam would've accused Dean of hiding the laptop – as a prank, maybe – but Sam hadn't been away from Dean long enough that day for Dean to have done it, and Alyson wouldn't have hidden it, so . . .

The front desk it was.

"So . . ." Alyson prompted after Sam had gone. "Can I have my present now?"

"We don't know how long Sam will be gone."

"Okay, then can you give me a clue as to what it is?"

"No."

"Okay, um, I'll guess then. It's jewelry, obviously. You said it wasn't a ring and the box isn't long enough to be a necklace, so . . . bracelet."

Dean shrugged. "You'll have to wait and see."

Alyson sat on the bed and laid back. It wasn't long before Dean did the same. She reached for his hand and wrapped her pink finger around his.

"I'm sorry for not remembering Valentine's Day," she said. "But I really assumed we wouldn't . . . you know? I mean, we should love each other every day. To me, Valentine's Day is just a way for stores to make money. There's nothing special about it."

"Well, aside from the box . . . no money was spent."

There was a pause in which Alyson could feel Dean tense up. She didn't understand it, so she had to ask, "What?"

"Why did you freak out earlier? You know, when you thought I was going to propose."

Her finger tightened around his as she struggled to find the words. She didn't really know why she'd freaked out, not exactly. She just knew the thought of marriage scared her. The thought of tying herself to someone through a piece of paper was stupid, but it was tying herself to someone.

"I don't know how to say what I'm thinking or what I'm feeling. I just . . . got scared, I think. I just . . ."

"Well, it's not commitment issues," Dean said. "You're loyal to a fault."

"I know, but . . . sometimes when people make things official . . . it ruins it. And it's just a ring and a piece of paper, but sometimes that piece of paper is like a death warrant. And it doesn't guarantee that you'll stay together."

"Well, that's true. But you're probably thinking about your dad. I'm not him. I have no intention of going anywhere."

She looked at him then. He was looking at her too. She slid closer to him, craving his warmth, and took hold of his hand and not just his finger.

"Dean . . . you weren't gonna propose, right? You didn't just say that you weren't because of my little freak out, right?"

"No, I wasn't. I can promise you that."

"Okay. Because I am only eighteen. But . . . you know, for future reference . . . I might've made an exception for you. I mean, I still would've panicked, but I probably would've said yes. Even if it is just a stupid piece of paper."

Dean opened his mouth as if he were going to speak, but he was interrupted by his phone ringing. He sighed when he checked the ID screen.

"Your dad. We really need to find your phone or get you a new one."

Alyson nodded her agreement even as Dean handed her the phone.

"Hey, Jack," she answered.

"Hey. Ya'll doin' okay on that case?"

"Funny you should mention that, because we're clueless."

"I thought you said it was a haunting. Why are you clueless?"

"Uh, aliens." She felt embarrassed just saying it.

"Aliens?"

"Yup."

Since they were talking about the case Alyson put the phone on speaker so Dean could participate if he wanted to.

"There's no such thing," Jack said.

"That's what we thought," Dean said. "But there's a big burn mark on the ground that says different."

"Huh," Jack muttered. "Well, I know next to nothing about aliens, so I don't think I'll be any help with that." There were a few seconds of silence and then he sighed. "That priest is in the hospital. He's okay – stable – but they're keeping him for observation."

"What happened?" Alyson asked, wondering if they would have to put off meeting him for even longer than they already had.

"Someone – or more precisely, something – found out I'd told you about him, and I'm guessing they didn't want you to know what he has to say."

"So he's in there because of me?"

A man had been hurt because she felt she needed to know about herself.

"Maybe," Jack said. "I wouldn't have told you, but I needed to pass on a message. A demon attacked him."

Of course. What else could it have been if it had to do with her?

"Ya know . . . you never even told us who this guy is," Dean said.

Whatever Jack had been going to say was interrupted by Sam coming in and slamming the door closed.

"Shh!" Alyson exclaimed. "I'm talking to my dad."

Why did people insist on slamming doors anyway?

"Sorry." Sam didn't seem sorry at all, though, when he looked at Dean. "I want my computer back. Front desk says no one's been here."

"I don't have it."

"You guys seem to misplace things a lot," Jack said. "The note, the computer, the phone."

"Not until recently. Someone's messing with us," Alyson said.

It had been said lightly, but it wouldn't have surprised her at all if someone or something actually was messing with them. There was no explanation for the note having disappeared and Alyson didn't know what had happened to her phone. It wasn't impossible for her to have lost it, but she wasn't one to lose things like that. Sam didn't usually lose things either, but his laptop was missing and Dean hadn't taken it.

Something was definitely messing with them.

"You said something about a message? And Dean wanted to know who this guy is."

"James Murphy," Jack answered. "You guys knew his son, Jim."

"Pastor Jim?" Sam asked. "I didn't even know Jim's dad was still alive."

"Yeah, he's alive but very much retied. He was a priest and I still call him one. Oh, and the message came from a demon, and I don't exactly know what it means. It told James to tell you, 'Meg sends her regards.'"

Alyson's breath caught in her chest – it didn't even make it to her throat. Meg had been the one to attack this guy. She had killed Jim Murphy too, and she'd possessed Sam and made him torture her.

Alyson wished she knew what to call the demon other than 'Meg.' The only reason they called her that was because she'd been possessing a girl named Meg when they'd come against her. It seemed almost disrespectful of the victim to give the demon her name.

Alyson began shaking and she let Dean have the phone back. She didn't feel like talking anymore. Dean must've sensed that because he took the phone off of speaker and resumed the conversation without her.

If Jack had been with them, Dean would've hit him. Aly and Sam had been working fine together until they had been reminded about what had happened. They hadn't forgotten, of course, but they'd been able to put it on the back burner so they could focus on the case.

Now Sam looked guilty as sin even though he'd had no control over what had happened, and Alyson just seemed to be becoming unresponsive.

Jack didn't have much else to say so Dean didn't stay on the phone with him for long.

For the sake of breaking the bad moods of Alyson and Sam, Dean offered to go get them something to eat. They hadn't had dinner even though it was late. There had to be some place close by that was still open. Besides, he knew Alyson would come with him.

"There's a Chinese place near Crawford Hall," Sam said. "It's open until two."

"Nice," Dean said.

Dean knew Sam's order already – a vegetable medley – but Alyson's tastes changed all the time. As long as it wasn't spicey she was usually okay with it, though.

Once in the Impala, Dean noticed that Alyson was gently massaging the wrist that had been broken recently. It was already healed, but she hadn't had time to forget about it yet.

"You okay?" he asked as he started the car.

"Yeah, I guess," she said. "Or I will be, anyway."

"If I give you your present now, would that help?"

Both hands fell to her lap and she smiled a little.

"That would be a good diversionary tactic."

Dean grinned and pulled the ring box out of his jacket pocket. He remembered Alyson thought it was a bracelet. It was true that it wasn't an engagement ring, but she shouldn't have ruled out that it was a ring altogether.

She'd frozen when she'd first seen the box, but it didn't faze her at all this time. She'd looked shocked and terrified before she'd found out he hadn't been proposing. Maybe she'd originally thought he'd been holding a ball and chain or something.

Even if he'd wanted to tie himself to her in that way, he wouldn't have been able to. He was on America's Most Wanted.

"You know, it's like we're married anyway," Dean said. "What you said earlier, about marriage being about a piece of paper? We're basically married and we don't have a piece of paper."

Dean looked at the red leather box in his hands, suddenly nervous.

"We spend almost every waking moment together."

Dean opened the box then, wondering how Alyson would take the not-engagement-ring . . . ring. The ring was simple, just silver. He'd cleaned it himself – maybe not properly, but the effect was the same. It looked shiny if not new.

"I've, uh . . . never done this before," he admitted. "But I've never felt with another woman what I feel when I'm with you."

He grimaced a little even as he took the ring out of the box.

"That sounded like a really bad get-in-your-pants line, but it's not, I swear."

He gently placed his hand over her left one and looked at her to try and gauge her reaction. She'd been oddly silent and she was slightly flushed. Maybe she thought he really was going to propose.

"This is a promise ring," he said, holding it up, "and I know they're actually used to promise to get married, but that's not why I want you to have it, if you'll accept it."

Her hand twitched before she squeezed his fingers. "Are you promising me something?"

"Well . . . as much as I can, our lives being what they are." Dean took a deep breath before continuing. "You know and I know that our job is dangerous. Our lives are dangerous. We both know anything can happen at any time."

Alyson nodded and scooted closer to him, as if the thought of him being taken from her suddenly was unbearable and she needed to be physically reminded at his presence.

He tried to tell her exactly what she was to him. She was one of the only people he trusted, one of the only people he loved. She made him love her, and he trusted her with his life and with Sam's life. Trust was not an easy thing for him to give but she had it, and she had never betrayed that trust.

"The promise I want to make to you is that as long as I'm here on this earth, alive, you'll never have to worry about being alone. I'll always be here for you when you need me."

This time he squeezed her hand.

"If you'll –"

"Yes," she said breathlessly. She was even more flushed now. "The answer is yes."

Her free hand cupped his cheek and her lips kissed the side of his mouth first. She did it twice, lights as butterfly wings, before kissing him properly.

Dean moved carefully, his shoulder still aching from being shot, but he followed Alyson's lead. She seemed aware of his wound too, because she was being extremely gentle with him. If she'd been anyone else, he'd have been insulted.

Her tongue flicked over his bottom lip and he opened to her for a few seconds of playful kissing before he pulled back slightly, earning a look of confusion from her.

"You have to let me put the ring on your finger," he said, hoarse from the beginnings of desire in his body.

She smiled and blushed. She even giggled. And she hadn't wanted a proposal earlier. She was sure acting like she'd been proposed to, and she liked it.

Warmth filled Alyson's insides as Dean slid the ring on her finger. Dean's promise was the equivalent of him saying marriage vows, which was something she hadn't even known was something she wanted until he'd said them.

She felt tingly all over, a small buzz that she'd never felt before. Dean had committed himself to her out loud and by giving her this ring that did, in fact, look like an engagement ring.

She wondered where he'd gotten it. He said he hadn't used any money on it. Maybe it was a family heirloom or something. No matter where Dean had gotten it, Dean hadn't mentioned it. She wouldn't bring it up unless he did.

Alyson's gaze fell on Dean's shoulder – the wounded one – where she could see an edge of the bandage she'd used to patch him up.

When she'd kissed him she'd been so careful. She didn't know much about gun shot wounds, but she knew they couldn't be pleasant. There was a hole in Dean's shoulder.

She pulled Dean's shirt aside so she could check the bandage, which was dotted red with blood. She peeled the bandage back slowly. The wound was clean, the skin bruised around it, but there was no sign of blood poisoning.

A small zing went through her fingertips as she touched Dean's skin. He jumped, so he must've felt it too. Her first thought was 'static electricity.' But then she noticed the pure, white light beginning to radiate from her hand. The warmth that had been in Alyson's chest was now in her hand.

Dean gasped and grabbed her wrist, but he didn't try to move her at all.

"What're you doin'?" Dean whispered.

"I don't know," she answered.

Whatever she was doing, the bruise around Dean's wound was slowly fading. Was she doing that? Was she . . . healing Dean? If that was what was happening, that was cool. She remembered thinking more than once that it wasn't fair that she could heal herself while the guys had to suffer.

Dean shifted his shoulder and Alyson felt a surge of power flow through her hand and into him. Her energy flagged slightly and that was what made her realize this healing thing would require a personal sacrifice each time.

Alyson pulled the bandage from Dean's skin and gasped even as Dean hissed. His skin was sealing itself back together, closing right before her eyes.

"Aly?"

"I know," she said. "I know, I don't know how I'm doing this. Okay?"

Neither of them moved again until there was no visible sign of Dean ever having been shot, and she didn't know how she'd done that either.

"There's not even a scar," she said and almost slumped against him.

Dean placed his hand on her shoulders before moving his fingers to the back of her neck, kneading the muscle there. The massage felt great since she was suddenly very tired.

"You . . . healed me."

At least Dean sounded amazed and not freaked out. She was a little freaked out. She didn't know healers existed in real life. Sure, there was Jesus, but he was God and man. As far as she knew, there was nothing divine about her. She was just an eighteen-year-old girl who had no control over her life.

"What'd you do?" Dean asked.

"I don't know. I – it just happened. I don't know if I can do it again."

Dean's thumbs trailed over her jaw line, and Alyson's eyes fluttered shut.

"It's a good thing you don't have to right now, then," he whispered before catching her lips with his.

Alyson was fine getting lost in Dean for a few moments. She didn't want to dwell on what had just happened.

Once at the Chinese place Dean went to order while Alyson stayed in the car. They were about a half a block from the campus. It was kind of creepy – there were no streetlights, so the only light was coming from the restaurant windows. There weren't many people around either, so she felt a little vulnerable sitting in the car by herself.

While Dean was inside getting the food, Alyson heard a scream. She was almost certain she knew where it was coming from. On instinct, she quickly got out of the car and took off in the direction of the sound. She wouldn't stay gone long. In fact, she hoped she'd be back before Dean came out to the car.

She began jogging and about a minute later she arrived near a sewage drain. There was a man on the ground and only half of his body was visible. His arm was down the drain pipe and his leg was missing. It appeared to have been torn off.

Something was growling, the sound coming from the sewer. Alyson was not like the stupid girls from horror movies, so she did not get closer to find out what it was. Maybe if Dean had been with her, or if she'd brought a weapon, she'd have checked.

"Help me," the man groaned, causing Alyson to jump.

She'd been sure he was dead. He'd looked dead and his breaths were so shallow his chest hadn't really been moving.

Alyson grabbed onto his remaining arm and pulled. Nothing happened. She couldn't budge him. Something had hold of him from inside the sewer. That thing that had growled, probably.

The man slowly turned his face to her. The side that had been shielded from view was bloody, in shreds. Something had clawed him.

Alyson almost let the man's arm go as a green scaly tail swiped along the entrance of the drain pipe. As it was, she had released a small scream of her own. People had begun to gather, probably brought in by the noises.

Why weren't they trying to help her? Why weren't they trying to help the man? What was wrong with them? Or maybe there was something wrong with her for helping, who knew?

Whatever the case may have been, saving the man was a lost cause. The man's head was drawn into the drain pipe and his neck was twisted until it cracked. Even so, Alyson didn't stop pulling until a green snout pushed its way through the opening.

She jumped back then because . . . that had been an alligator nose, she was sure of it.

Alligators in the sewers? This particular alligator was slowly munching on the dead guy and dragging him closer to the drain and down to the sewer.

She could hear sirens now so someone must have phoned the police. She had to leave before they arrived, and she needed to get back to Dean before he came looking for her. He could not be seen by the police; it wouldn't go well if they recognized him.

Avoiding the crowd, Alyson headed towards the Chinese restaurant. Most of the people had been looking for the alligator. She just hoped no one had taken a video of her.

Dean was still inside, which meant she only felt as if she'd been gone a long time. But he'd been inside for a while – long enough for someone to have flattened each of the four tires. Dean was going to be pissed.

Sam's money clip was on the ground on the passenger side.

As soon as Dean came out of the restaurant, he noticed the state of his car. Alyson was standing outside of the car, slightly pale, with specks of blood on her shirt and jeans. She didn't seem hurt.

"What happened?"

If someone had come around messing with her, why hadn't she come inside?

"Um . . ."

Alyson handed him a silver money clip. Escribed in the metal were the letters S.W. Initials. Sam's initials.

"Sam!"

Anger filled Dean's veins. All this because of his stupid computer, which Dean had not taken, thanks very much. But . . . what about Aly? Sam letting the air out of the tires didn't explain her appearance. Why was she bleeding? And she wouldn't have let Sam hurt his car, she knew Dean loved that car.

"I didn't see it happen. I was over at Crawford Hall. A guy was killed. I heard him scream. When I came back, it was like this."

Switching gears, Dean said, "Wait, someone died?"

"Yeah. He uh, he was eaten."

The paleness made sense now. Alyson was in shock, using short sentences, straight facts. She probably hadn't processed yet.

"Eaten?"

Were they dealing with vampires now, as well as a ghost and aliens?

"Uh . . . alligator in the sewer. Maybe more than one."

"Did you actually see –"

"Yeah. The nose and the tail."

Dean looked at the car again and cursed. They were going to have to walk to the motel.

He was definitely going to give Sam a beat down.

Dean slammed through the door when they got back to their room. He felt like throwing the bag of food at Sam, who was sitting on the bed closest to the door. He probably would have if the food was only Sam's.

"You think this is funny?"

Sam looked up from the newspaper he'd been going through.

"Depends. What?"

"The car!"

"What about the car?"

"You can't let the air out of the tires, you idiot! You're gonna bend the rims."

"Whoa, wait a minute. I didn't go near your car."

Sam sounded sincere, and letting the air out of the tires just to get back at him didn't seem like something Sam would do. But they had the money clip, and Sam had had plenty of time to get there and back.

There had been Dean's confession in the car; he didn't know how long that had taken. There was how long it had taken to get the food. Plus, Alyson had stepped away for a few minutes. Sam could've done it then.

"If you didn't go near the car, how did I find this?"

He showed Sam the money clip. Sam stood up and felt his pockets.

"Give me back my money."

"No. No. Consider it reparations for emotional trauma."

Dean placed the bag of food on the table and then he went to the bed to place the clip in his bag.

Sam tried to grab the clip, but Dean swiped it away.

"Dean, I have had it up to here with you," Sam said, gesturing to the top of his head.

"Yeah? Right back at ya."

Sam tried to grab for the money again, but Dean kept it out of reach. Sam kept grabbing at it until they both fell onto the bed, wrestling for the money.

"Get off me!"

Sam was heavy and Dean felt like he was being squished. His little brother was not so little.

"Give it back!"

Even over their noises of struggle Dean could hear Alyson's fit of laughter. He and Sam were fighting like two kids – they'd reverted back to childhood. He and Sam had fought like this all the time when they'd been younger.

It surprised Dean when Alyson snatched the money clip from his hand and put it in her jean pocket.

"Hey," Dean and Sam exclaimed in unison, sill wrestling even as they fell off the bed.

"Enough," Alyson said softly and fondly. "This isn't gonna solve anything."

They stopped going at each other long enough for them both to stand up straight.

"Okay, I'm keeping the money," she said. "I'm the bank. If we find out Sam flattened the tires, he doesn't get the money back. If we find out he didn't, then he does."

"But –" Sam started but broke off as he took a look at her. He'd obviously just noticed the blood on Aly's clothes. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing. I'm fine."

She did seem fine now, not as pale, more grounded in herself. The laugh they'd given her had helped, and she was able to explain what had happened.

"So, this couldn't get any weirder, right?" she asked. "I mean, the ghost, the aliens, and now alligators in the sewer."

Alyson made her way to the bathroom, leaving the door open so she could hear. Dean watched as she began washing her hands, scrubbing almost viciously when she noticed the blood that had dried there.

"Well, it's a classic urban legend," Sam said. "A kid flushes a baby gator down the toilet, and it grows huge in the tunnels."

"Any truth to it?"

Sam shrugged and sighed. "Maybe we should get some help. I'll call Bobby. Maybe he's run into something like this before."

"Oh, I'm sure he has," Dean snipped. "It's just your typical haunted campus, alien abduction, alligator in the sewer gig. Yeah, it's simple."

Sam glared at Dean, and then rolled his eyes. He looked at Alyson, who had come out of the bathroom. Dean watched as Sam's gaze fell to Aly's hand and recognition filled Sam's face. He had seen John play with the ring many times, as Dean had, and Sam definitely knew where and who it had come from.

"When did you get that?" Sam asked, gesturing.

"Before we got the food."

"Hm."

Dean had tensed at Sam's question, but Sam didn't say anything else about it. He just called Bobby to let him know where they were and that they could use his help. They had no clue what they were dealing with.

It was going to be hard to research without the laptop, and it was going to be hard to get anywhere near a library without Dean's car.

After Sam got off the phone he turned to Dean, still irritated and thinking about asking for his money again, when he suddenly remembered Dean was wounded. He'd been wrestling with him and he could have hurt his brother further.

"Is your shoulder okay? I forgot –"

"What? That you shot me?" Dean snarked, and Sam couldn't help but feel guilty all over again. "My shoulder's fine. Aly healed it."

Sam was sure he'd heard that wrong, but if the blush on Alyson's face was anything to go by . . . Dean had spoken the truth.

"Don't ask me how," Alyson said. "I have no idea. I didn't know I could do it or if I can do it again."

Considering the lives they had and how much danger they found themselves in on a regular basis . . . having someone who could heal them would make things a lot easier and safer.