Author's Note/Warning: General warning of mentions of sexual abuse and murder. Specific warning of the abuse and murder being of a minor

Chapter Forty-Six

Alyson was being held down. She was in the woods again, only this time it wasn't raining or storming. Right away Alyson became aware that she was no longer herself. She was Sally.

It was dark and she couldn't see anything, but she knew the man from her dream was there with her. He was stripping her of her clothing and wasn't being particularly gentle with her. He almost ripped the material several times.

This wasn't happening to Alyson, she knew that. She was reliving what had happened to Sally twenty years ago. Sally had been young – too young to stand a chance even if she had fought against the man, which she hadn't. Alyson could feel that Sally had gone through this several times. She'd accepted it as a punishment and had grown used to it.

She didn't want to make the man angry. It was always easier if the man wasn't angry.

'I need his name,' Alyson thought. She couldn't help if she didn't know his name. The man couldn't be brought to justice if Alyson didn't know who to look for.

Whoever he was, he was frustrated because he hadn't been able to get to Sally in weeks. He was only able to do this when the girl spent the night at her grandfather's.

Alyson's hands – Sally's hands – were being held over her head by one of the man's hands. He pushed her legs open with his knee. Sally let him do it. He threatened to hurt her family if she didn't let him, and she knew he'd do it without blinking.

"Stop," Alyson screamed, but it did no good. Sally was still silent.

The fear the girl felt mixed with Alyson's own. She could feel the helplessness Sally felt. The girl had reached out for help before and had learned that help would never come.

"Aly!" Dean yelled at his once again unresponsive girlfriend.

They had been sleeping peacefully for once, and then Aly's body had begun to jerk against him hard enough to wake him and then she had begun to scream.

"Aly, wake up!" He began shaking her. "It's okay. I've got you."

When that didn't help, he sat her up and dragged her onto his lap so he could rock her back and forth.

"Everything's okay."

Though it obviously wasn't. She was no longer screaming, but she had fallen into sobs. She must've become aware enough to know where she was and who had her because she'd shoved her face against his chest to hide there.

She grabbed onto his arms, her fingers strong but trembling. Dean saw something strange then. There on her wrists were bruises. Hand-shaped bruises, as if someone had held onto her too tightly. As if . . . as if someone had pinned her down.

Dean knew he hadn't done it and Sam wouldn't have. Neither would Jack or Bobby. Besides, the bruises hadn't been there when they'd gone to bed.

"What's goin' on?" Bobby said through the closed door. The others had obviously heard the commotion and come running.

"Everything's fine, Bobby."

"Bull." The door cracked open. "Everybody decent?"

"Yeah."

Bobby, Sam, and Jack piled into the room, and Aly tensed on his lap. She obviously didn't want everyone there.

"We heard screamin'," Bobby said. "What happened? Another nightmare."

"More like night terror."

Alyson slid off his lap and moved far back towards the headboard until she could lean against it.

"It was real," she said, barely audible. "The man from my dream . . . He did this to Sally."

Aly gingerly touched her wrists. A haunted look filled her eyes. Dean knew reliving Sally's murder was hard, but now she was exhibiting physical symptoms. The wounds of the child were manifesting on Aly's body.

Dean slid his hands over Alyson's, noticed that she instantly tried to pull away. He tightened his grip enough to let her know he wanted to check her over.

"You're not healing," he said. "What's wrong?"

"They're not mine. These are hers. It happened to her."

This time when she tugged, he let her go. Panic had risen in her eyes. When she hadn't been able to get away last time Dean realized almost instantly his mistake. Aly's dream had been of someone holding her down. She'd felt trapped when Dean had grabbed her hands.

"Okay, somebody needs to see if we have coffee or some kind of caffeine here. If not, go somewhere and get some." Dean realized how agitated he sounded. "Sam, bring those articles and your computer in here. We'll get started tryin' to figure this out."

"The sooner the better," Alyson added.

"I'll do a coffee check," Bobby said before leaving the room.

Alyson rubbed at her eyes, waking herself further. She was tired, but Dean was not letting her go back to sleep. As if the nightmares weren't bad enough, now they were physically hurting her.

"I'll be right back," Sam said.

Both Sam and Jack left, leaving Dean and Aly alone.

"Dean, I don't like this. I know I said that it was okay, the dreams and everything, but I'm not okay anymore. I'm reliving her injuries. Dean, I don't – I don't wanna die."

"You're not gonna die," he said firmly. "Just stay awake and nothing will happen to you."

"Right. Dean, he was . . . he did things to her. Things I can't have happen to me." Aly's voice turned pleading. "Don't let me fall asleep."

Dean tensed, everything making sense now. Aly's pleading to be let go and for whoever to stop whatever he was doing; Aly flinching at his touch when she didn't see it coming; her wanting to get away from his grasp.

"Has he . . . ?"

"Not yet. He gets closer each time."

Dean clenched his jaw shut. Aly couldn't go back to sleep, not until they figured this out.

When Sam came back with the box of articles, they made a spot on the floor so they could spread the information out in a way that made sense. The only new piece of information they found was the name of the sheriff who had led the investigation back then.

Henry Johnson.

The articles repeated over and over how the case had stumped him. They hadn't found footprints or any other evidence that any other person had even been in the woods aside from the fact that Sally had been killed.

Alyson had quickly swallowed down two cups of coffee, but she still nodded off every now and then. Dean woke her up each time. Sam had said something about people not being able to dream unless they'd been asleep long enough to reach the REM stage, but Dean wasn't taking any chances.

Alyson didn't blame Sam. His plan was logical and he had no idea about what Sally had gone through, what Aly could go through.

"Dean," Sam said. "We'd be right here. Nothin' will happen to her."

"Yeah, you know what? That's what Mr. Priest said, and look what happened."

Sam sighed. "Point taken, I guess."

"Good. Don't bring it up again."

Alyson yawned and allowed her head to droop a bit. Reading was not conducive to staying awake, especially if you were reading the same thing over and over again.

Bobby and Jack had gone to get energy drinks, but they hadn't gotten back yet. Once they got back Alyson would be fine, she was sure.

Dean picked up one of the articles they hadn't gone over yet and began to read.

"It says that law enforcement was confused by the lack of evidence. All they found was Sally's body, which was mutilated."

Disgust found its way to Dean's face. Anger quickly followed.

"It says she was naked, but there was no sign of sexual abuse and no DNA was found aside from her own."

"That's . . . not right," Alyson said. "That man . . . he hurt her. They may not have found evidence, but I know he did."

Sam looked her way. "How do you know that?"

"I woke up just before," she admitted. "It had happened more than once. Sally kept thinking about it."

"Oh, God," Sam said, looking as if he could be sick. "Her wounds are appearing on you."

Alyson knew he understood now. He knew why she didn't want to sleep, why Dean wouldn't let her.

Dean threw the article down. "This is not helping us at all. We need to talk to this sheriff guy, if he's still around. The papers never have all the information. Cops hold things back from the press to draw criminals out."

"Okay," Alyson agreed, sighing. "I don't understand how a human could do something like that and not leave evidence behind."

"Maybe he wasn't human," Dean said. "I mean, you couldn't feel anything out of place because you're not you when you're dreaming. We just assumed human."

"Did your dream give you any clue as to who it was?"

"No, but she did know him. He only got to her when she spent the night with James."

"Why?"

"My guess is probably because her room was upstairs here, downstairs over there."

"Right. Makes sense."

"We should talk to James again to see if Sally suddenly stopped wanting to come over. Also . . . maybe Bobby and I should be the ones to go to the police station. I mean, they know about you and Sam. You're probably on every police database out there."

"Will you take no for an answer?"

"No." Alyson grinned. "Besides, I waited in the car on the last case because you wanted me to, so time to pay up, bud."

"Yeah, yeah."

When dawn broke Bobby and Alyson went to the police station as planned. Alyson wasn't tired at the moment because she was buzzing on energy drinks. She sort of felt hyped up on drugs and she didn't like it. Her heart was actually racing even though she was just sitting there while Bobby drove.

She hoped she didn't look as hyped up as she felt. The police might want her to pee in a cup. They were covering as journalists – or Bobby was. Alyson was job shadowing.

The person at the front desk of the station seemed to be no older than Alyson. Maybe he was a trainee.

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah," Bobby said. "Do you know where I can find Sheriff Johnson?"

"May I ask why?"

"We need to ask him a couple of questions."

"One minute." He picked up the phone and dialed a three-digit extension number. "There's a man and a lady here who want to speak with you."

Once he put the phone down on the receiver, he ushered them towards a wooden door behind his desk.

"Thanks," both Bobby and Alyson said.

A man wearing a uniform opened the door. He was Dean's height with a football player's physique. He was no older than thirty-five. A few years older than Sally would've been had she survived.

This was not the man they were looking for. He couldn't be.

The man shook Bobby's hand and then Alyson's. He seemed pleasant enough.

"Eric Johnson," he introduced himself.

"Alyson Daniels," she said, deciding not to fake her identity.

The man had sincere eyes, the same color as Dean's. When he'd shaken her hand, Alyson had felt the callouses there. This man was not afraid of hard work.

"What can I do for you?" Eric asked, small smile on his face.

"We were looking for Henry Johnson, actually."

"Oh? My dad. He retired a while back."

"Really?" Alyson looked at Bobby. "We didn't realize."

"Apparently," Eric said. "Is there somethin' I can help you with?"

"Maybe," Bobby replied smoothly. "We're reporters."

"You want to do an article about my dad?"

Switching subjects just to see if she could throw him off Alyson asked if he knew James Murphy.

"Everyone does. Why?"

"We're renting his house and he told us what happened . . . to Sally. He also said that no one had solved the case."

"It's unsolved, yes," he said, attitude turning cold. "Why?"

"May we see the file?" Bobby asked.

"Why are you so interested? You –" he pointed to Alyson, "- don't look old enough to have been alive when this happened. There's nothing there but a bunch of leads that didn't pan out."

"We're just interested," Bobby said. "We don't want to write a story. Nothing will come out because of us."

"Wait here," Eric said, letting them into the office finally, so they could be seated. "I'll get you a copy."

"Wait," Alyson called out politely. "Did any other children . . . die like Sally did. Or did any go missing?"

"A few, but my dad would be the better one to ask about that. He's lived here his whole life. I can call him to see if he'd be willing to meet with you guys."

"That would be nice," she said. "Thank you."

"Some of the information we have never made the papers, so keep it quiet, okay?"

"Sure thing," Bobby promised.

One file folder and a phone call to his dad later Eric Johnson ushered them out of his office. They reached Bobby's car and hopped in.

"Hey, Bobby . . . if you knew something bad was gonna happen to someone you cared about, would you tell them?"

"That depends. Is it hurting this person if they don't know?"

"I don't know. It hasn't happened yet, if it's gonna happen at all. It's just somethin' that happened while I was asleep."

"With Sally?"

"Before."

"Oh. Well, I dunno. On the one hand, you might prevent it from happening, but on the other . . . people shouldn't know too much about their own futures."

"I know."

"Well, good."

Sheriff Johnson had told them to expect a visit from him and his dad later in the day. They'd stop by the main house. With time to spare, Bobby and Alyson decided to go get food for everyone.

Alyson didn't want anything heavy that would put her to sleep, so they went to Wendy's. She loved their salads, plus she knew what everyone else would want from there.

Alyson ordered herself a large Coke in hopes that the caffeine would keep her awake. The effect from the energy drink had long since faded. She'd have to drink another one when she got back to the house. That was the problem with energy drinks; they made you crash after a while.

After getting the food, they headed for the house. They reached a traffic jam because a semi had tipped over, causing oil to spill on the road. It was just their luck.

By the time they pulled in front of the house the food was cold and Alyson was slumped down, eyes closed, but she was still awake.

"We're here," Bobby said.

They got out of the car and Alyson's senses went on high alert. She felt as if she were being watched, but she also felt something cold touch her arm. Nothing visible was there, but that meant nothing.

'Behind you,' Alyson heard clearly. It was Sally. It had to be, and the little girl was sending her a warning.

Bobby was already headed to the front door. A red dot was floating there on his back, targeting so it would go through and hit his heart. He would die there, never making it inside.

Alyson didn't think to look to see where the marker was coming from. All she knew was that someone was aiming a gun at Bobby. She dropped the food and ran as fast as she could. A shot rang out as she tackled Bobby to the ground.

Fire ran through her shoulder as a bullet lodged itself inside and then everything went black.

Dean had been in the living room with Sam and Jack when he'd heard Bobby's car come up the driveway. The car had stopped and Dean didn't react until he heard Bobby cry out. There had been what sounded like a car backfiring, which was weird considering how far away from the road they were, and then Bobby had yelled for their attention.

Something was wrong.

Sam and Dean responded first, but Jack wasn't far behind.

"Bobby!"

Once outside Dean noticed that Bobby had Alyson shielded with his body, away from the woods. Alyson was unconscious and blood was pouring from the backside of her shoulder.

"What happened?" Sam asked, quickly kneeling down beside Bobby.

"Someone shot at us. It hit her. She pushed me out of the way."

"We need to get inside," Dean said.

He took Alyson from Bobby and cradled her in his arms as he began moving. They needed to get her in bed. They also needed to get the bullet out of her or she wouldn't be able to heal.

Alyson flinched once before really beginning to struggle, hitting him with her good arm, and jerking her legs enough that Dean almost dropped her. Dean thought it was odd that she wasn't screaming.

She let out a gasp, though, and went tense but also very still.

"Aly?"

He'd made it to the couch before her eyes shot open. She grabbed at her stomach and Dean followed her movement. Blood was seeping through her shirt. Dean wondered if she'd been shot there too and just hadn't seen enough to notice, but no . . . there had been only one shot.

"Aly!"

She coughed and blood gushed down her chin. She had serious internal damage.

Dean almost froze at the realization. He couldn't fix internal wounds. They needed a doctor.

"Sam! Help me stop the bleeding."

"I'll get towels." Jack raced upstairs to do as he'd said.

Sam touched Dean's shoulder and Dean looked at him. Tears had already reached Sam's eyes.

"What?" he snapped.

"She won't heal. Those are Sally's wounds."

"We'll call an ambulance. We can't just let her die," he said. "I can't –"

He couldn't lose her.

Dean noticed when Alyson began tearing at her stomach as if she thought whatever had hurt her was still there and could be taken out. For all he knew, she did think that.

Jack came back and Dean took the towels. He asked Sam to hold her still while he kept pressure on the wound. Alyson whimpered at the contact. Dean hated himself for causing her pain, but he knew this was necessary.

"How are you with getting bullets out of people?" he asked Jack.

"Hands are pretty steady."

"There's a first aid kid in the trunk of the Impala. Everything you'll need is in there. Keys are on the entertainment center."

"Sally," Alyson said, pain lacing her voice.

Was the girl here? Was she witnessing what was happening? Had she meant for this to happen?

"Aly." Dean grabbed her chin. "Listen to me. Okay? You have to make her let you go. You can't heal if she doesn't. I know she's a child and she did not deserve any of this, but neither do you."

Dean didn't know if she heard him or if she'd understand if she had, but he hoped what he'd said helped her fight this. Or that Sally had heard and would let Alyson loose.

Alyson was in the woods again, though it was daytime now. She was near the stream where Sally had been killed. It was beautiful now, with the sun shining down.

"Sally? Are you here?"

"I'm always here," a small voice said.

Alyson spun to see the girl sitting on the big rock she'd hidden behind in one of the dreams. Sally was wearing a gown, probably the one she'd died in.

"Why am I here?" Alyson asked. "What happened?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't want you to get hurt."

Hurt? The last thing Alyson remembered was pushing Bobby out of the way so that he wouldn't be shot. Pain had filled her shoulder and she had passed out. She also remembered that Sally had been the one to warn her of the gunman.

"I know you wouldn't do this to me on purpose."

Alyson sat down beside Sally. She wondered if this was another dream or if this was happening for real.

"You're dreaming, but it's still real."

"Are you stuck here? Because of how you died?"

"No. My killer is still alive. I want . . ."

"Justice?"

Sally nodded. "I'm sorry. I don't want you to die, but I don't know how to let you go either."

Dying. She'd taken a shoulder-shot. Why would she be dying? And then she remembered the dream she'd had once passing out. She'd dreamed about Sally's last night alive. She'd finally said no and the man had not been happy. He'd stabbed her once, but with the strength behind it she'd almost been eviscerated.

"Who . . . who killed you? Who did all those things to you?"

Sally clammed up instantly, obviously not wanting to talk about the man.

"Sally, it's okay. He can't hurt you anymore. You know that, right? He doesn't have power over you anymore."

"Yes, he does. I'm still scared of him after all this time. He's still winning."

"No. You were strong enough to say no. By refusing him, you took the power away from him. He hated you for it, but in the end, you were the one with the power. No matter what came after."

Alyson sat there in silence for a few moments. She needed to wake up. Dean needed her to wake up. More than that, though, was that she wanted to live. She wanted to live so she could find the man that had hurt Sally, that had killed her.

"There are people who need me, and I can't help you when I'm here."

Sally seemed to know that, but she'd already told Alyson she didn't know how to let go, not while the man who'd hurt her was still alive.

"At first, when he . . . he told me it was okay. That he loved me, and that if I loved him too, I would let him. I didn't know . . . I just knew that no one else had loved me like that before. I was . . . nine the first time it happened."

"He hurt you for two years and no one suspected anything?"

"I pretend very well."

"Obviously."

"I saw this play in school, and it was about that. They said if something made you uncomfortable when it was done to you, then it didn't just feel wrong. It was wrong."

"Did he hurt other girls? Do you know?"

"One, maybe." Sally looked defeated. "He said I reminded him of someone."

"Who?"

"I don't know. He just said he loved her too."

Sally's eyes became unfocused, as if she were reliving the horrors she'd had to live with. She still remembered; she couldn't let go of her fear. That more than anything was what kept her there. Sally thought she wanted justice and she did, but what she really wanted was freedom.

"This man, whoever he is, isn't here. He can't hurt you anymore unless you let him."

"I did love him," Sally said. "When I thought he loved me. But he never loved me. I know that now."

"I don't think you really loved him either. Real love does not make you run away. It's nice and warm and comfortable. The opposite of what you felt."

It was what Dean made her feel, and Alyson craved that so much at the moment. She needed him to let her know things would be okay, that he would fix things because that was what he did.