Author's Note: There are hints of childhood sexual abuse in this chapter, but it isn't anything graphic. It's dealing with a case that Alyson and the Winchesters come across.
Chapter Forty-Five
The sound of waves gently rolling back and forth was what woke Alyson up. She automatically knew she was in her own mind, but she was also instantly aware of her surroundings.
She was on a beach – an island beach by the looks of it. The sound was soft and not scratchy, and the water was blue. The sun was behind her, beating down on her pleasantly. A gentle breeze was blowing, and the smell of the ocean was in the air.
This was not what she had expected. This felt real. It wasn't in black and white, it wasn't in sepia tone, and it didn't look like anything she'd seen in movies. She hadn't gone into a trance only to come awake on one side of a bonfire to see her guide on the opposite side.
"It's beautiful here, isn't it?" a voice said from beside her.
Alyson didn't jump even though she hadn't seen anyone only seconds before. She knew that voice and it would never cause her to become scared.
"Mom."
It made sense that her mom was here, was to be her guide. That was what she had been in life. No, she hadn't been a perfect mom. She'd hated cooking and cleaning, hated any housewife chore, to be honest, but she had taught Alyson right from wrong, and had showed Alyson what love meant. Really, wasn't that more than enough?
Her mother was now seated beside her in a white flowing dress, and her hair was blowing softly in the breeze. She was even more beautiful that Alyson remembered. Of course, the last memory of her mother was of her coming home to see the body on the floor.
Why did she have to think of that? Why ruin this with thoughts of that?
"Are you touchable?" Alyson asked. "Can I hug you?"
"It's your subconscious. You can do whatever you want," her mom teased.
Alyson grasped her tightly and smothered her face into her mother's hair. The smell of her mother's shampoo filled her senses. Alyson smelled fruit too, but that had to do with being on an island more than it had to do with her mother being there.
"I have no idea what's happening to me," Alyson admitted, tears brimming. "I'm just – I'm just so confused right now."
Her mother's hands rubbed over her back soothingly. That had always been how her mother had comforted her.
"You know, if you asked any other eighteen-year-old girl, she'd probably say the same thing," her mom answered lightly. "I wish I could tell you that everything will be fine, but I can't tell the future. Neither can you. I can only tell you what I've been told. The rest is up to you.
"Anyway, this whole Warrior of Light business. It's not gonna be as bad as you think. You're stronger than your abilities."
Alyson pulled away. "I thought you couldn't tell the future."
"I can't." Her mom smiled. "But I know you."
Her mom stood up and put her hand out.
"Let me show you the way."
"Where're we going?" Alyson asked, allowing her mom to pull her up.
"Just start walking."
"To where?"
Alyson turned around, away from the water, noticing for the first time the trees that had been behind her.
"Go the other way."
The other way? But there was only water that way.
Her mother gently turned her back around. The water was no longer there. The beach was no longer there. In its place was a desert.
"Uh . . . okay."
"Hey, this is your playground. I'm just visiting," her mom said playfully. "Welcome to your brain."
In the real world about an hour had passed. Dean had stayed with Alyson all that time. At first everything was perfect; she'd seemed peaceful. Until she'd started crying Dean had thought Alyson was getting some much-needed sleep.
The crying at first had been soft, just silent tears falling down her face.
"What's happening?" Dean had asked.
Bobby, Sam, and Jack were standing around the bed also. Bobby was silent but concerned; Sam was interested in the whole process but also worried now that Aly was showing signs of distress; Jack didn't seem concerned at all. Maybe he had complete trust in his friend's methods.
"She's fine," James said from the doorway.
"She's crying."
"Sometimes you have to cry before you can heal."
Dean could accept that even if he didn't like it. Alyson was hurting; he was supposed to help her and he couldn't.
"Mom," she whispered from her place on the bed.
She was seeing her mother, Dean realized. No wonder she was crying.
Alyson had never really grieved for her mother, not properly. She had never had the time. She'd come with them only days after her mother's death. She'd focused on becoming a hunter, and Dean had to admit she had become a good one. She was better at the book stuff, but still . . . it hadn't even been a full year. The progress she'd made was impressive.
The point was that everything had hit her at once and she hadn't been able to process the loss of her mother. She'd had nightmares every night those first couple of months. The ones about her mother had stopped only to be replaced with ones of Dean dying, and those were replaced by the torture she'd endured when she'd gone back home.
Now Aly was seeing her mom in her mind. Dean could totally understand why she was crying.
Time passed slowly as Alyson and her mother moved through the desert. They seemed to be going absolutely nowhere. As it was a desert, the scenery stayed the same. Alyson had no idea how walking through a desert was going to help her at all.
"Are you scared of what you'll see?" her mom asked.
"No. Not if you're the one showing it to me."
Her mom would never show her something to deliberately frighten her.
"What if you don't like what I'm here to show you? Or what if you don't like what you hear?"
"About what?"
"You. Sam. Dean. Everything that's a part of you now."
"Dean?"
That was the word she hung onto. What did Dean have to do with what was holding her back?
"He can't protect you forever." Her mother looked and sounded sympathetic. "One day he won't be there and you're gonna have to go on without him. But he'll come back to you. He will."
"Where's he gonna go?"
Were they even talking about Dean? Dean would never leave her. Even if they didn't work out as a couple, he cared too much about her to let her go off on her own for too long.
"Where's he gonna go?" she repeated.
"You don't wanna know," her mother said and grimaced.
"Yes, I do."
"Okay, but just remember you asked for it."
Her mom touched her cheek. With that touch Alyson was transported somewhere that was definitely not the desert. She was now in a place of death. She could smell blood and sulfur. She even smelled burning flesh. She felt the sense of evil and hopelessness washing over her in waves, and the sounds of agonized screaming reached her ears. There was no doubt in her mind that she was having a vision of hell.
"Stop! Stop, stop, stop!" she screamed.
That was all it took for her to get out of that place and go back to the desert. She'd fallen to her knees at some point, though she had no idea how she'd gotten that way.
Alyson looked at her mom defiantly. She'd never felt such anger towards her mother and this wasn't even her fault. Alyson had asked to be shown.
"Dean is not gonna go there. I won't let him."
"There's nothing you can do. When the time comes, you won't be able to save him. You may kill yourself trying, but you won't be able to save him."
"Why? I have all these abilities. Why won't I be able to save him? That doesn't make any sense."
"It's true, you can do a lot of things. Bringing people back from the dead, however, is not one of them. You can heal people only if they're meant to be healed. You can't cure sickness, only injuries. And, even then, it depends on how bad they're hurt. You must be careful with this gift. It can drain you of your strength faster than any of the others. You'll understand one day."
"I thought the whole point of this quest was for me to understand now!"
Her mom didn't answer. She did, however, suddenly appear frightened.
"He's coming."
"Dean?"
"No. Him."
Her mother pointed out into the distance in front of them. Alyson noticed a shadow of a man. Tall, with shaggy hair. Sam.
"It's only Sam. He won't hurt you."
"That's not Sam," her mother said firmly.
As Sam came closer, Alyson realized he was wearing a white suit. That was odd, considering they were in the desert, but her mother was wearing a white dress, so who was she to judge?
"You won't win, Alyson," Sam said, coming closer still.
That was weirdly out of context.
"You'll be the good girl, sure, and you'll always do the right thing. Everyone will love you, but you won't win."
This wasn't Sam, just as her mother had said. It sounded like him, it looked like him, but it wasn't. This Sam said his words too properly, and he spoke as if he were from a different time.
"Ignore him," her mom said. "And go past him."
"I will destroy you."
There was that word again. Destroy. Only it sounded so much worse this time around because it was coming out of Sam's mouth.
"I thought you said this wouldn't hurt her," Dean snapped at the preacher guy.
"She is fine."
Dean was getting tired of that answer.
"Then why was she screaming five minutes ago?"
She had stopped crying for a good hour, but then her body had gone rigid and she'd started screaming for whatever was happening to stop. The screaming had stopped quickly, but Alyson still breathed heavily even now and was whimpering off and on.
"What was happening and why didn't she wake up when I shook her?"
"She's not ready to wake up. Other than that, there's nothing to worry about." James was trying to comfort him. "Whatever it was scared her, but she's okay now."
"If something were to happen, you have a way to wake her up, though, right?" Jack asked.
"Of course."
"Will bringing her out before she's ready do anything to her."
"She'll be disoriented for a few, much as if she had been drugged."
After Alyson passed by Sam – or the thing that looked like Sam – she and her mother continued walking. It seemed as if hours had passed.
"This isn't helping me at all," she complained. "The only good thing that's happened is that I got to see you again."
She'd learned that her deepest fear was losing Dean, but she'd already known that even if she'd never said it out loud. She'd also learned that Sam could scare her – or maybe it was just what Sam could become that scared her.
She wiped her forehead to keep sweat from dripping into her eyes. As her hand fell back to her side, she realized that the scenery had changed again. They were back at the beach.
"Really? I'm right back where I started."
"With the knowledge of your two greatest fears. You try to keep them hidden, but you can't anymore. That's not how you deal with things. It's not how I taught you to deal with things."
"But . . . if it's fate like that stupid prophecy says . . . then I can't change it. I can't change any of it."
"Maybe you won't have to. Maybe things will work out. You don't know, you won't know until it happens." Her mother glanced upward as if someone had called her name. "I have to go now."
"What? But I'm not done."
"No, you're not. But I am." Her mom caressed her cheek briefly. "I want you to know that I am so proud of you."
As if she hadn't cried enough, her tears came back full-force.
"I love you. I think you and Dean are great together, even if Jack has his problems with it."
"Thank you." Alyson smiled sadly. "I love you."
"Bye, sweetie."
"Good-bye."
Her mother disappeared and Alyson sat down on the sand where she'd been at the beginning, alone again. She'd made it back to where she'd started. She'd found out that Dean wasn't gonna be with her in the future, that Sam – or someone using Sam's body was going to destroy her. Even after finding out that these were the things that were holding her back, she still felt the same. How had any of this helped?
A golden light surrounded her. It was warm and safe and comforting. It felt like home.
"Alyson."
That voice. Deep and warm, loving. The sound of it made her want to cry again. It wasn't a familiar voice at all, but then again, it was. Even though she'd never heard the voice, she recognized the tone, the feeling coming from it.
A silhouette formed in the light, man-shaped. She couldn't make out who it was, but she wasn't frightened. She knew there was nothing to be afraid of. Not here. She was safe in the arms of a brilliant light.
"Is this real?" she asked.
"It's very much real." The voice was kind and welcoming. "James Murphy is right. You need to accept who you are and what you can do, what you are meant to do. Your abilities don't define you, but they are a part of who you are."
Alyson had said that to Sam once, maybe even word for word. It was weird having her own words thrown back at her like that. Alyson understood, though. Everything about her made her who she was, not just one thing.
"They won't make me . . . less human?"
"Not if you don't allow them to. It's your humanity that gives you your greatest strength and ability of all."
"What ability is that?"
She suddenly wondered if she had to worry about losing her humanity. The way the words had been phrased, it sounded like it could happen if she wasn't careful.
"Your ability to love. And your ability to always know what's right and what's wrong."
The light began to fade, but the warmth and comfort stayed.
"Be true to who you are," the man said. "Remember how strong love can be."
Alyson could feel that whatever she was supposed to have learned had already passed and that she would have to figure it out later. Her surroundings were changing again, and even though she felt that her quest was over she wasn't waking up.
She was in the woods now, and it was raining. It was dark, unlike the constant light she'd had on the beach and in the desert. This wasn't part of her vision quest. She didn't feel safe here at all.
As she began to move, she realized that her body felt disproportionate to how she usually felt. She was smaller. Her clothes hung down, clinging wetly to her skin.
A sense of fear came over her. She didn't know where she was and she was alone. At least, she felt alone, but something told her she wasn't. Not really.
"Sally!" someone yelled out, and the voice itself sounded evil. Alyson knew this man was calling for her, but she didn't know why he was calling her Sally. "Don't make me come find you."
Alyson took off running away from the voice, praying the man wouldn't find her.
There was a light up ahead. The sound of running water reached her ears as well. She scrambled into a clearing and saw a little stream with the moonlight gleaming off the water.
"I know where you are. When I find you, it won't be pretty."
Alyson hid behind a large stone. Once still, she began shivering from cold and fear. The part of Alyson that was herself knew she was near James Murphy's house and wanted to run for it, but she couldn't make the girl move.
Every sound that reached her ears had her snapping her head towards it.
"Sally-girl."
Someone grabbed her shoulders, pulling her to her feet. Alyson realized then that she was in a gown. It made sense; it was nighttime, after all. But why was she outside? And who was chasing her.
"Let me go!"
"Be still."
For some reason, Alyson felt violated. She knew this man was going to hurt her, hurt her in a way no one deserved to be hurt.
"It's okay. Everything's okay." The voice held nothing but false reassurance.
She wasn't okay. Nothing was okay.
"Please," she screamed. "Help!"
The man covered her mouth with the palm of his hand. Alyson wanted to bite down and would have done if she'd had any control. She didn't, though, and she now knew why. This wasn't her body. She was experiencing something that had happened to someone else, something that had happened to a young girl.
It was too dark to see anything, so she didn't see who was manhandling her, but she knew the girl knew this man. Alyson, however, couldn't pick out a name.
"Sally-girl."
The man's hand slipped below her dress and between her legs.
"No!"
As Alyson screamed again Dean grabbed her shoulders to keep her from jerking herself off the bed. He didn't know what Alyson was going through, but someone had her. Or something had her. Man, he was going to kill this James guy.
"Aly, wake up!" Dean yelled. She was unresponsive to his call.
"Move!" James exclaimed.
Dean did, reluctantly, when he saw that the man had the mixture that would hopefully wake Aly up. James forced Aly's mouth open and poured a small amount of the liquid down her throat, caressing her neck to make sure she swallowed.
"Dean!" she called out, though she was still asleep – or whatever she was.
Dean was by her side instantly and watched as James continued administering the mixture. She relaxed slowly, and her eyes finally opened. He noticed the fear in her eyes.
"What happened?" she asked.
James answered. "You went rigid and you just started screaming. We should be asking you what happened."
"You weren't waking up," Dean said. "We called for you, but nothing."
"Well, I'm awake now," she said.
"What happened?" Bobby asked. "Somethin' tells me that wasn't part of the program."
"No, it wasn't," James admitted.
"I was stuck," Alyson whispered. "But it wasn't the quest thing. I was in the woods. It was dark and raining."
"What happened?"
"I wasn't me. I was a little girl and someone was after me. A man. I couldn't see his face, but I know he was evil."
"Was he human?" James asked, suddenly appearing invested in this.
"I'm not sure. I wasn't me, so I couldn't sense anything. She was running, or I was running. I don't know how to explain it. It's like I was there as the little girl. I could feel everything she felt. I was her. She was scared, so I was scared. She knew the man, whoever he was, wanted to hurt her."
Alyson had yelled for someone to let her go. Now Dean knew why.
"Is there any chance that this was just a dream?" Jack asked James.
"I'm not sure. This has never happened before."
Of course it hadn't.
"Do you remember anything else?"
"Her name was Sally."
"Sally?" James asked, hushed.
"You know her?" Bobby asked sharply.
"I knew someone named Sally. A little girl. She was killed a little over twenty years ago."
"In the woods?" Alyson asked.
"Yeah. The woods outside my house, down by the stream." James swallowed, fighting back tears. "I've tried making contact with her many times, but . . . nothing."
"Well, I'd say there's been contact," Dean said, tone harsh. "What else do you know about her?"
"I know she was murdered," James replied. "She was . . . she was my granddaughter."
Alyson inhaled sharply and Sam's expression softened. Dean showed no outward sign of surprise, and neither did Bobby nor Jack.
"You don't know who did it?" Aly asked kindly.
"The police never could find anything. Nothing but the body."
A clap of thunder sounded through the room followed by a flash of lightning. Alyson jumped and then cringed. She almost withdrew into herself. Dean didn't know what had happened. Alyson had never been afraid of storms before. Her dream must've really gotten to her. And the storm had come on suddenly.
It made Dean uneasy as well. The subject matter of their conversation didn't help the situation at all.
"Sally belonged to Jim, I reckon?" Bobby asked.
"Yeah. Sally spent the night here one night and . . ."
"Someone took her?" Dean asked.
"Or she left on her own. I don't understand how it happened. She'd always been safe here until the night she disappeared."
"Bad things happen where you least expect them to."
A scratching noise came from the one window in the room. It almost sounded as if someone was running a hand over the glass. Then the tapping began. It sounded like someone was trying to get in.
"That happens sometimes," James said. "I don't know why. I've gone over every inch of that window with an EMF, but I can never find anything."
"Is there anything out there to hit the house?" Sam asked.
"No. All the trees are far enough back that even if they fell they wouldn't touch the house."
"The man that . . . killed her . . . called her Sally-girl," Alyson said, "and I think she knew him."
"Why would you say that?" James asked. "What'd you see?"
"It was nighttime in the dream – or whatever it was. You said she spent the night. Would she have been the type to go with a stranger?"
"No. As a matter of fact, she wasn't."
James got up and walked out of the room. Dean didn't think he was going to come back, either.
Alyson got off the bed, movements unsteady, and made to follow the priest. Dean grabbed her arm, hurt and confused when she flinched and tried to jerk away.
"Sorry," she muttered. "Just wait here, okay?"
Alyson found James in the kitchen. He'd put a kettle on the stove, so she assumed he was making tea.
"Mr. Murphy . . . when you saw Sally, did she ever have suspicious bruises or anything like that?"
"Jim didn't abuse her, if that's what you mean."
"That wasn't what I meant. But I think . . ." Alyson trailed off, not knowing if she should really be going into this with the girl's grandfather. "I think someone was hurting her."
James looked at her with misty eyes. "Someone she knew?"
"That's my guess."
James sat down at the kitchen table.
"You said earlier that Jim didn't talk to you very much. Was this why?"
He nodded once. "He never did forgive me for it."
The kettle began whistling and Alyson stood up before James could.
"I'll get it."
James nodded his agreement.
"How old was Sally w-when she died?" Alyson asked.
"She was eleven. Way too young to die so horribly."
Alyson grabbed a mug from one of the cabinets and filled it with water from the kettle. She grabbed a tea bag from a container in the liquor cabinet.
"I'm sorry about everything," Alyson said as she began to steep the tea. "That this happened to your family, and that you were attacked because of me. It shouldn't have happened."
Alyson placed the mug down in front of James.
"I still want to know what happened that night."
"Why?" he asked. "You don't think I investigated every supernatural avenue?"
"No, it's just . . . when people are emotionally connected to a victim, it clouds their judgment. If Sally knew the person who killed her, it's likely you did, too."
"You should listen to her on this," Dean said. "She usually has a sixth sense about this stuff."
Alyson and the priest looked his way. He'd followed Alyson about a minute after she'd left him in the other room.
"Sorry," he said unapologetically. "I was eavesdropping."
Alyson smiled fondly. "It's okay. I was mostly done, anyway."
Sam, Bobby and Jack had followed him and had been eavesdropping along with Dean.
"So . . . about that night," Dean prompted.
James shrugged. "It was storming, worse than tonight. I tucked her in around ten that night, and she wasn't there the next morning. The window was open, but the cops said there was no evidence of anyone forcing it. They said it appeared as if she had opened it on her own, and had left on her own. She never would've done that, not at night and not during a storm."
"Which leads us back to our 'she knew her killer' theory'," Bobby said.
"My wife said she heard a tapping that night, but I never heard anything. I guess I was wrong."
"You think the tapping earlier was Sally?" Alyson asked.
He shrugged again. "You were the one dreamin' about her. You tell me."
Speaking of the dream, Dean had questions about that. "Why Alyson? This has never happened to her before now. Was it that crap you gave her? It somehow made her susceptible?"
"Probably. But if Sally had come around, Miss Daniels would have felt her, regardless."
Dean and James had a staring contest that Dean was determined to win. He did not like that this was happening, that Alyson was now connected to the ghost of a dead child.
"Dean, it's okay. This is what we do, right? We'll do what we normally do."
"Right. But you having dreams about things that happened twenty years ago has never fit in there."
Alyson shrugged. "Well, I guess this time it does."
"It fits," James said and stood up. "You can pick up energies in a room. You'll probably be able to feel other people's emotions someday."
"But why her?" Jack asked, repeating Dean's question. "I know from experience that a spirit has to be able to relate to you on some level for it to take you over completely like that. I mean, Alyson wasn't communicating with Sally; she was reliving her murder."
James flinched. "Maybe . . . maybe Alyson is the only one who will listen."
"If she's trying to tell me something, then we have to stay," Alyson said.
"The main house is open," James said.
"Main house?" Dean asked.
"Yeah. The stone path outside leads all the way through the woods to the other side. Jim and his wife lived there before . . . but now I rent it out every now and then when money is running low. There's enough room for all five of you, and I won't even charge you."
"That's nice of you," Jack said. "But I think Alyson should get as far away from here as possible."
"No, it's fine. I'm already interested. This girl needs me. I've gotta help." Alyson turned to James. "You said there were never any leads?"
"No. Never. I know almost everyone around here. I knew almost everyone back then too. People had their issues, sure, but not one was that evil. No one I knew would've done something like that to an adult, much less a kid."
"Were there any other murders, or any children who went missing?" Dean asked. He didn't like this, but if they were going to help James, they needed all the information they could get.
James seemed uncertain. "Maybe, but nothing as bad as Sally."
"Okay," Sam said. "So . . . tomorrow we'll head to the library or something. We'll look into the town's history, and . . ."
"I have every article ever written about her murder. I kept up with it. You can take them with you if you want. If you don't solve this thing, I want them back."
After the storm passed James led Dean and Alyson down the stone path through the woods. Sam, Jack, and Bobby were bringing the cars to the main house. James had given Sam a shoebox full of articles about the investigation into Sally's murder.
"What was Sally like?" Dean asked as they went down the wet path.
"Shy. Introverted. A people-pleaser. She liked making others happy."
As Dean and James talked, Alyson thought about what she'd learned that day. Dean wouldn't be there to protect her all the time; he would somehow end up in . . . in Hell. Sam would destroy her. They may become enemies.
Alyson was almost certain that both things were just representations of her own fears. Dean had actually been tempted to sell his soul once he'd found out about his dad – it made sense for her to be afraid for Dean in that respect. And the Sam thing was self-explanatory. She and Sam were friends. Of course she was afraid of them turning against each other.
"Well, here we are," James said as they reached the end of the path.
They now stood in front of an old two-story house, old but well-kept, much like the cabin. James pulled out a key ring and led them to the front door. Sam, Jack, and Bobby were already there waiting for them.
James took the key off the ring and handed it to Alyson. "Unless you think you need a tour, I'm gonna go."
"By yourself?"
He got along great for an older person, but he'd just been attacked a few days ago. Who was to say it wouldn't happen again? Not to mention the path, while beautiful, had been made slower by slick stones. Alyson didn't want him falling with no one there to help him.
"I'll be fine. I'm used to walking the path alone."
"Okay, but be careful."
"Will do."
Antique furniture filled the living room of the main house. The windows in the room had gold designs on them. Dean was taking in the room and noticing that Alyson was not.
"I'm gonna find a bed," she said. "I feel completely drained."
Dean followed her to the stairs and they made their way up. Dean would worry about their bags later.
"Good night," Alyson called down to the others and got varying answers of the sentiment.
On the wall, on either side of the staircase, were pictures of people from different time periods. It felt as if their eyes followed them.
"This place is givin' me the creeps," he muttered.
Alyson grabbed his hand. "Don't worry. I'll protect you."
Dean grinned, relieved at her playfulness. Something had been off since she'd woken up from her nightmare. He was glad Alyson was herself again.
"Maybe it's gonna be you who needs protection."
"Oh, really? From what?"
"Me," he growled teasingly before picking her up and cradling her in his arms.
Dean began walking, passing by rooms until he found the biggest one, the master bedroom. The bed was a king size. The bed spread matched the curtains, white with gold designs. It was a little too fancy for Dean's taste, but at least it looked comfortable.
Dean allowed them to settle in before asking about Alyson's vision quest – or whatever it had been. Alyson snuggled into his side before speaking.
"I . . . saw my mom. She was my guide."
"You said . . . you said 'mom' while you were out."
"Oh. She was with me for a little while. Not long enough. But it was still nice." Alyson moved closer. "If it was really her and not my twisted psyche."
"What happened?"
"Basically, she just told me things that were subconsciously bothering me. They were really obvious once they were pointed out to me, so I don't know how I didn't know."
"Know what?"
"Little obvious things. I really am worried about Sam and about the fact that he's supposed to kill me."
"Or the other way around," Dean reminded her. "Neither of you are killers, Aly. It'll never happen.
"That's what I kept telling myself. I saw Sam in my vision quest, so I was obviously worried about it. He wouldn't have been there if I wasn't."
"Anything else?" Dean wanted to know why she had begun to scream that first time, before the time about Sally.
"She said she approves of us being together. She would have, too, because you make me happy, because you're good to me."
Dean held her closer at that admission. Aly's mom would've approved, would've liked him. He could tell, though, that something was bothering Alyson.
"What else?"
Alyson didn't hesitate. "I'm afraid of losing you. Of you not being here." She took a shuddering breath. "She said you wouldn't be, not always. You can't forever be my protector."
Dean really didn't know what to say to that. Their job was dangerous and someday something may separate them. Death may separate them. But as long as he was alive, he would be there with her.