Warning: Real talk, there is mention of suicide in this chapter. A girl kills herself because of the abuse she is receiving at the hands of an adult. If you've been reading this case, though, you already know it deals with a very sensitive topic. If suicide or mentions of abuse will trigger anything please skip those parts. They are brief and not very graphic, but they are there.

Chapter Forty-Eight

The background checks Sam ran on Henry Johnson and Dr. Wilson showed nothing suspicious about either one. They both belonged to a hunting club, meaning both were good shots. Either one would've been able to shoot Alyson without missing.

They both had lived there their whole lives, and James had grown up with them. Neither had a criminal record.

Still, the hunters suspected that whoever had done this had known Bobby and Alyson had been looking into Sally's murder. Henry had known because of Eric; Henry may have told someone else.

James claimed he hadn't mentioned it to anyone.

The truth was that if anyone had been told, they definitely would have had time to get there because of the traffic jam Bobby and Alyson had hit on the way back to the house.

Now that Alyson was awake and okay, the two Johnson's and the doctor left. The sheriff and his dad were reopening the Murphy case, letting the hunters help. The doctor wanted nothing to do with it. He'd left pain medicine for Alyson before going away.

The hunters plus James were seated at the kitchen table of the cabin. It had been hard getting out of bed, and Alyson couldn't sit up straight without hurting herself, but she didn't want to stay in bed anymore. She'd been in bed long enough.

"Sally told me that the man told her she reminded him of someone. Did either of them have a daughter at one point?"

"Nope," Sam answered. "At least none that were on record."

"They didn't," James said. "Wilson had a niece. She belonged to his sister, but she died in a car accident. Her little girl, Michelle, came to live with Dr. Wilson. She was sweet."

"Is she still around?"

"No. She killed herself – when she was around twelve, maybe."

"Would you say she reminded you of Sally?"

Alyson was just thinking that from shows she'd seen on television and books she'd read that if a child was targeted by someone, that child could be a surrogate for another child, one a predator couldn't get to.

"Maybe. They had similar features. Both were shy. Sally more so." James shrugged. "Michelle, Sally, and Eric were best friends."

"What was Eric like when he was younger?" Bobby asked. He seemed distracted, only half-tuned in.

"Like other boys, I guess," James answered. "He was younger than the girls. They were very protective of him, and he looked after them too."

"Did Michelle and Sally die around the same time?" Sam asked. "Could their deaths have been connected?"

James seemed uncertain. "I'm not sure. They didn't die at the same time. Michelle died two years before Sally did."

That would match the timeline of Sally's death. Sally could've started being abused once Michelle died. Maybe the girl had been protecting more than Eric.

Alyson let out a yawn then. She tried to stretch but stopped when she felt her stitches pull. She hissed in pain and quickly dropped her arms back to her sides.

"Maybe you should head back to bed," Sam said.

"Yeah, we're good here," Jack said.

"Actually," Dean began, placing a hand on Alyson's shoulder. "I'd like to move out to a motel. Whoever shot Aly knows where we are and could come back to finish the job at any time."

Alyson moved experimentally and winced.

"You need your meds?" Dean asked.

"No. It only hurts when I move. Plus, the meds will make me sleep. Even though I think I'm safe, I don't want to risk it. Not right now."

"But you're okay with going to a motel, right?"

"Absolutely."

Dean rented out two rooms. Bobby and Jack were sharing a room, while Sam, Dean, and Aly were sharing the other. Bobby and Jack helped them carry the bags in because Dean insisted on carrying Aly in. It hurt her to stand, so sue him.

Bobby hovered by the bed once she'd been put on it and Dean noticed as Alyson eyed him warily.

"Yes?" she asked.

Bobby shook his head. "Idjit."

"You would've done the same for me," she said.

Again Bobby called her an idjit. Dean heard how relieved Bobby was now that she was awake. He also heard how grateful Bobby was that she had saved his life. He might not be able to thank her with words, but he was thankful.

"Glad you're okay," Bobby said gruffly. "Really."

"I'll be more careful. Okay?"

Bobby nodded. "I'll . . . leave you guys to it."

Jack stayed behind and sat by Alyson. "How ya feelin'?"

"Like I was stabbed," she said bluntly.

"Right. I never should've told you to come here," he said. "No matter what you found out, it wasn't worth this."

Dean rolled his eyes. The man had barely shown his face when Aly had been unconscious and now he decided he wanted to stick around?

"I'm okay," Alyson said. "You couldn't have known this would happen. It just did. It's not your fault."

Jack left a few minutes later and Dean helped Aly to the bathroom. He needed to change the bandages on her stomach.

"You're really okay?" he asked. "Not in a lot of pain?"

"No." She removed her shirt. "I'm okay. I'm sorry I worried you, but I'm okay now."

"This time."

He gently removed the gauze and checked her wounds. They were healing nicely and they didn't appear infected at all.

"What if this isn't a one-time thing?" he asked. "What if this just opened your mind up for so much more?"

"I dunno. But if I was meant to do this then . . . I was meant to do this. It would've happened sooner or later."

"I'm glad you sound confident," he quipped. "Anyway, Jack and Bobby are gonna talk to Dr. Wilson tomorrow. Sam and I will stay here with you."

"Okay."

Aly was startled awake by a pounding coming from the door. Sam had woken up too, as had Dean. Dean was the closest to the door, so he got up, grabbed a gun, placed it at the door, and opened it.

Sheriff Johnson was there. Why what he there at . . . whatever time it was?

"Sheriff," Dean said, moving back from the door. "What are you doing here?"

"James Murphy is dead."

"What?"

The sheriff stepped inside the room.

"What happened?"

"We got a call a couple hours ago. Gunfire. We went out to his place and found him in his living room. Looks like suicide."

"But is it?" Dean asked.

He moved to the bed, hiding the gun so the sheriff wouldn't see it. Alyson handed him his shirt and he quickly put it on.

"I'm sure it wasn't. But there was something weird, though. He had the files from the police station, the ones that were stolen twenty years ago."

"You think they were planted there?" Sam asked.

"I do. We're seeing if we can get prints from it."

"How did you know we were here?" Alyson asked. "We decided to come here after you left."

"Are you kidding?" Eric asked. "I've had someone on you guys the whole time."

Alyson wondered if Dean, Sam, Bobby, or Jack had noticed. She hadn't noticed a tail, but she hadn't looked for one.

"Whoever did this wants us to believe James is guilty," Sam said. "Seems really desperate."

"Yeah, so he's getting sloppy," Eric said. "This guy'll probably make a mistake."

Eric sat down at the table which held the weapons bag. Alyson prayed he wouldn't look too close.

"I really should call my dad. I hate to wake him up for bad news."

"So let him sleep," Alyson said. "It's not like the news is gonna change."

Eric's lips quirked up. "Right. I tried calling Wilson, but no one was home. Or if he was, he didn't answer."

"Hm." Dean sat beside Alyson. "Earlier tonight James told us you knew Sally. You were good friends with her."

"Yeah. Me, Sally, and Michelle – Dr. Wilson's niece. That was our group. I used to think I was gonna die because they both did." He sighed. "I always knew something was wrong with them. Michelle was always a little shy. It took a year to get her to even talk to me, but Sally . . . Sally was outgoing before Michelle died. Sally and I did everything together, but then it just . . . stopped."

Eric stood up. "I've gotta get back to the crime scene. But, uh . . . I'm gonna leave one of my men here. You guys are probably the prime targets." He looked at Alyson. "He's already tried to kill you once. Don't let yourself be alone. Something more permanent may happen next time."

"So . . . who are we thinking did this?" Alyson asked.

Dean had no idea. Both the doctor and Eric's dad seemed sincerely disturbed by Sally's death, but that didn't have to mean anything. Some people could kill without remorse.

Both men seemed nice enough, and Dr. Wilson had saved Aly's life. Henry had been concerned about her health. If they had wanted her dead, why would Wilson have saved her and why would Johnson have seemed concerned about her?

"Regardless of who did it, he's gonna be angry that the evidence didn't take," Sam said. "There's no way James killed his own granddaughter."

Alyson's stomach growled then and she clutched at her belly before grimacing in pain. She'd obviously forgotten her wounds.

"We should get some food," Dean said. "You haven't eaten since before . . ."

"Yeah. Something light, though. I don't wanna be sick."

"I can go get chips or crackers," Sam offered. "Maybe soup."

Alyson smiled softly. "Chicken noodle soup with crackers. Thanks."

Once Sam left Alyson laid back down and closed her eyes. Dean knew she was probably tired, what with all the blood she'd lost and the lack of sleep she'd been having.

"Are you still in pain?" he asked. "Or more than you were?"

"Mm-mm. Not really. The stitches kind of itch, though."

"You're healing already then. That's good."

"Hm. Sleepy."

"Sleep then. I'll wake you if you start having a nightmare."

Dean sat beside her and began caressing her palm. He knew it tickled her sometimes, but she also found it soothing.

The next day everyone was summoned to the main house where James had been found. Dr. Wilson and the two Johnson's were already there inside. Dr. Wilson was agitated.

"You can't seriously be thinking someone walked through the front door, shot James, and then walked back out, locking the door behind them."

"What I'm thinking is that someone is dead," Sheriff Johnson said. "That's all I know right now."

Everyone was led to the den, where they all sat down on the chairs and sofas around the room.

"What do you need?" Henry asked his son.

"I don't know," Eric admitted. Alyson heard uncertainty in his voice.

"Well," Alyson said. "First thing's first. The first time this guy killed, he did it out of rage. I don't think he planned to kill Sally until that night."

She shrugged. "What I'm sayin' is that this time is different. This time he has time to think things through. He's reacting out of fear. He knows we're looking into this."

"Most of the time people make mistakes when they get desperate," Henry said.

"Which means he'll be easier to find this time around," Wilson said. "But why are we all here? Won't this make us easier targets?"

"Not with all the officers I have outside," Eric answered.

"Do we know why this guy killed James? I mean, was he only looking for a scapegoat? Or do you think it was somethin' else? Maybe James figured out who the killer was."

"I'd go with the scapegoat theory," the older Johnson said. "Like you said, this seems planned out." He looked at his son. "Got the prints back on that file yet?"

"They'll call me when they come back."

"I'd like to be there. This case stumped me back then. I'd like to see how it ends."

About an hour later Dean, Wilson, and Eric went to James's cabin. Eric had said he and his men couldn't get any more evidence, so he didn't mind them going as long as he went with them. Dean had wanted to see if he could find anything the cops may have missed. Dr. Wilson wanted to pay his last respects.

Sam and the others had opted to stay with Alyson. She wasn't really up for the walk through the woods, and they had chosen to walk in case they found evidence on the way there.

Henry had been silent for a while, seemingly lost in thought.

"You and James were friends also?" Alyson asked.

"I'd known him since high school. He was a good man. A good priest too. It's a shame he died."

Alyson agreed.

"Dr. Wilson didn't answer his phone this morning when Eric called him."

Alyson noticed that Sam, Bobby, and Jack were letting her run the conversation. She had no clue why. She was just saying her thoughts out loud, trying to find something to piece together.

"James told us that Dr. Wilson had a niece that killed herself."

Henry nodded. "I wanted to know why. She had problems. Her parents died, so of course she was sad. But she got better until . . . she suddenly became worse than ever."

Sam spoke then, gently. "We're pretty sure she killed herself because she went through the same thing Sally went through."

"I'm . . . not sure. They never did an autopsy."

"Because she killed herself?" Jack asked.

"Right."

"So she could've been abused since she got here and no one would've known," Alyson said. "And she lived with Dr. Wilson, right? Sally would've known and trusted him."

"He wouldn't have," Henry said.

"Okay, but he's with your son, who is a sheriff. Are you willing to bet his life on that?"

"I know he would never hurt anyone. He lives for helping people." Doubt filled his face. "I wanna check anyway. I should've gone in the first place. James was my friend too."

"I'll come with you," Sam said automatically.

"Well, I'm not staying here," Alyson said. "Dean is with him too."

They all would have to walk in case something had happened to someone on the way.

She could heal later. She'd be okay.

Before leaving, Alyson grabbed a gun and hid it in the waist of her jeans. She placed it under her shirt. It wasn't the smartest thing legally, but considering they were dealing with a killer she wasn't going out without one.

James and Alyson both had said that Sally must've known the man that had killed her. Known and trusted would cover the doctor and the sheriff.

Dr. Wilson wanted nothing to do with the investigation. Henry, however, was invested in the findings. He hadn't been able to solve the case those many years ago. It would make sense to be interested now that they were getting somewhere.

But . . . if Henry had done it . . . of course he wouldn't have solved it. He couldn't arrest someone else without having had just cause, so . . . he'd made the evidence disappear enough that no one would suspect him. He'd even allowed himself to be interrogated when the police report had gone missing.

He'd been the lead investigator in that case. He would have been able to tamper with all the evidence and steal the files.

"You alright?" Henry asked.

They had been walking for a few minutes now while Alyson had been thinking. They were about halfway to the cabin.

"You're the reason Sally and Michelle are dead," Alyson said quietly. "You tried to kill Bobby, but I got in the way. I think Eric called you and told you that two reporters were checking out Sally Murphy's death and you freaked out. He told you where we were staying and you headed over with a gun. You had plenty of time to get there. There was an oil spill on the road."

Henry moved toward her slowly, non-threatening. Alyson drew out her gun anyway.

"Aly," Sam said. "You said you thought it was Wilson."

"I changed my mind."

"Could you put the gun down?" Henry asked, a nervous edge to his voice. "Do you even know how to use that thing?"

"Oh, I know how to use it." She took the safety off. "I could kill you just as easily as you killed James, only I'll actually feel bad about it."

"Aly." Sam moved a step forward. "Are you sure?"

"No, but I don't think Dr. Wilson did it, and Henry is the only other suspect we have." Alyson gestured for Henry to start walking again. "We're gonna go have a talk with your son."

Henry threw his hands up in surrender. "Okay, just don't pull the trigger. You don't want to get in trouble."

Before Alyson knew what was happening, Henry jumped at her and grabbed her wrist. As soon as the gun was no longer pointed at Henry a shot rang out. Alyson hadn't been shot, but Henry did yank the gun from her hands and used the butt of the gun to hit her on the head.

She wasn't even aware that she'd hit the ground until Henry kicked her in the stomach. It took her breath away for what felt like an eternity. Her body begged for oxygen as she realized that Henry hadn't just wanted her to not have a weapon, to not threaten him with one. He intended to use it himself.

Alyson was paralyzed from the pain. It angered her that she couldn't move. She couldn't protect herself.

Jack tackled Henry to the ground, which took care of one problem, but as Alyson looked around she found an even bigger one: When the gun had been fired the shot had hit Sam in the thigh. Bobby was by his side, trying to lessen the blood flowing out.

"Sam . . ." she muttered.

"Sam!" Dean yelled.

He'd come across a battlefield. Alyson was down on the ground, blood on the front of her shirt. She'd obviously pulled a stitch or two. Jack and Henry were wrestling, a gun thrown to the side. Bobby was on the ground near Sam, who was bleeding profusely from his thigh. He'd been shot.

That was the reason he'd come running. He'd heard a gun go off, so he'd left Eric and Dr. Wilson behind.

Another shot rang out. Dean instinctively ducked even as he watched Aly curl in on herself. He hoped she hadn't been shot. And she hadn't been. She was crawling her way to Sam. That was where Dean was headed as well.

"Dean," she said as they came together.

"Aly." He touched her shirt where the blood had seeped through. He was glad to see that she hadn't bled too badly.

She was more focused on Sam than herself. If the bullet had hit any higher, Sam may have lost his happy place. As it was, Aly had placed her hands over the wound. Nothing was happening, but that could be because she'd never healed a fresh bullet wound.

"It's not working," she said. "I can't feel anything."

"What?"

"It's not working," she said again, tears welling up. "I might not be able to heal everything or everyone."

Maybe she could heal only Dean. He was the one who she'd tried her ability on. Still . . . she had healed his shoulder when he'd been shot. Though she hadn't been injured at the time. Dean needed that to not matter because Sam was bleeding out and he would never make it to the hospital in time.

"Dean, the bullet is still in his leg," Alyson said. "Maybe . . ."

"Yes," he said. That made sense. Alyson couldn't heal when something was keeping her wounds open. When the bullet had been in her shoulder, she hadn't been able to even start healing until the bullet had been removed.

"Dean, you have to get the bullet out," she said.

There they were in the middle of the woods and Dean had to lower Sam's pants. Since the wound was so high up that made more sense than cutting them all the way up.

Dean noticed that Eric and Dr. Wilson had arrived. Bobby was still by Sam's side. Sam had begun to fade quickly. Jack was moving their way, but Henry had been shot and he wasn't moving.

Eric had been the one to shoot Henry if the gun was anything to go by. He must've gotten there right after Dean had.

Sam groaned, gaining everyone's attention. His eyes were open, pupils dilated. He was slipping onto shock. His skin was pale, his lips colorless. His skin had gone . . . less warm than was normal.

Dean had used a knife to get the bullet out, hoping Sam wouldn't get any infection because Dean hadn't been able to sterilize the blade. It went to show how far-gone Sam was that he had no strength to scream when the blade had entered his leg. Once the bullet popped out, Dean gestured for Aly to do her thing.

She placed both of her hands on Sam's wound and Dean placed his hand on hers. Together they pressed, Dean pushing to keep pressure on the wound, to stem the blood flow.

Still nothing happened.

"I'm too weak," Alyson said, head down, defeated.

As she said that, something pulled at Dean's insides. It wasn't a tug, exactly, more like a gentle leading. It was so very Alyson-like. It reminded him of the time she'd moved him with her mind. Safe, warm, loved. Not something to run away from. He let himself be led.

His hands, still on top of hers, began to glow like hers did when she healed him. They were healing Sam. Well, she was, but he was helping. The warmth that came with healing rose up in Dean and filtered through Aly before filling Sam.

Dean knew he couldn't do this for long. His body wasn't made for this and he was already feeling drained. He remembered Alyson's reaction when she'd healed him the first time. She'd acted as if she were going to pass out. Now he knew why. She had to use her own energy to heal. It took from her so she could give. Healing required a sacrifice from her.

It had taken maybe fifteen seconds to heal Sam – or at least close the wound so he wouldn't continue to bleed out – and now Dean was healing Aly. She'd tried to make him let go because she'd seen how it was affecting him, but he'd refused to let go. She'd given him her strength more than once. He was giving some back.

She finally got him to let go when he sensed that she was healed enough to do the rest of the healing on her own. How he could sense that he had no idea, but he could and he would worry about that later.

Now it was all he could do to remain upright on his knees.

"Everybody okay?" came a broken, breathless whisper.

Eric. He was looking between his dad's body and Sam's now healed leg. He also looked at Alyson, not knowing what to say about what had happened.

Sam had some of his color back now, but he was still weak. Healing did not make up for the blood he'd lost. He would still need time to recover.

Bobby and Jack were beside them. Neither one had seen Aly heal before and were both in amazement. Wilson had gone to Henry's side and was checking him over.

"You guys need to head back to the main house," Eric said. "I'll need to talk to you later."

Both Sam and Dean were able to walk, but it was slow going.

"The only thing you guys are gonna do is sleep," Aly said. "If you move for anything other than the bathroom, I will not be happy."

An hour later everyone but Eric was back at the main house. He'd called in reinforcements. Now Alyson was just waiting.

Both Sam and Dean were resting. Dean had barely made it to the house without passing out, but with the help of Bobby and Jack, Alyson had gotten him to a bed.

Downstairs, Alyson met Wilson in the sitting room. He seemed to be in a state of shock.

"I'm sorry," she said. "He was your friend."

"No. I thought he was my friend. He was just a murderer."

"Why'd he do it?" Eric's voice said from the doorway. He'd just arrived. "She was just a little girl."

"She told him no," Alyson answered softly. "She made him mad."

Eric scoffed. "I was around the same age as Sally, so I don't remember much, but he always seemed so committed to the case. I guess now I know why."

Eric stepped away from the door, going backward. Alyson saw him head toward the front door.

"Stay here," Alyson said to Dr. Wilson. "For Sam and Dean."

"Of course," he said. She could tell he was tired, and tears had welled in his eyes.

"Hey, are you okay?" she asked, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"Michelle killed herself because of him. He walked around like it didn't faze him. I don't understand how someone can do something like that."

"Dr. Wilson –"

"Seth. You can call me Seth."

"Seth." She offered him a small smile. "I'm sorry that Sally and Michelle had to die because Henry was a monster. But no one suspected him. You shouldn't blame yourself."

She squeezed his shoulder softly. "I'll be right back, okay? I wanna check on Eric, see if he's okay."

She left the room, stopped at the stairs to check for noise upstairs but heard none, and then made her way outside. Eric was seated on the front steps, his head in his hands.

"Sheriff?"

He looked up. "Miss Daniels. Is something wrong?"

"No. I just wanted to know if you were okay. I mean, no matter what he did . . . he was still your dad."

Eric shook his head. "I . . . killed him. I killed him. When I realized he was the one who – I just reacted. I didn't even flinch."

His eyes found her bloodied shirt. "What happened out there?"

Until then she'd forgotten that Dean had healed her. She was no longer in pain. She'd forgotten how much of a mess she looked. She'd been too worried about Sam and Dean.

"Did you . . . heal Sam?" His voice was hushed. "How is that even possible?"

Alyson sat beside him. "Remember when I said I was different?"

"You've done that before?"

"Once or twice."

"That's kind of amazing." He shook his head before looking at her, studying her almost.

"What?"

"Nothin'. Just . . . you can heal people. I'm sort of waiting for you to sprout wings and a halo."

She smiled even as blood rushed to her cheeks.

"I'm human, not an angel. Besides, I think I'd look goofy with wings." She sobered quickly. "But really . . . are you okay?"

"No," he said. "I feel really stupid."

"Well, you shouldn't. Nobody else knew either." She sighed. "Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry."

"Well, thank you. And thank you."

"No problem," she said. "So . . . if that's all, I wanna get back to my guys."

"Sure. I may need to get a statement from you later."

"We'll be here." She got up and stopped at the door, turning back to him. "I don't think I really have to ask, but . . . don't tell anyone about me."

"My lips are sealed," Eric said, smiling slightly.

As Alyson went upstairs, she couldn't help but think about how she had connected with Dean. She also thought about how Dean wouldn't let go. He'd held on long enough so that she could heal herself, which had put him at risk.

Looking back now, she was able to dissect what exactly had happened. They were connected. She'd been able to feel everything he'd been feeling – terror at losing Sam, then fear because she was hurt, determination to save them both, hopelessness when she couldn't heal Sam, and then wonder when she'd reached into him for strength.

She didn't even know how she'd done that. She just remembered knowing that she was too weak to help Sam on her own. She'd known she needed more and then that had happened. She wondered if she'd be able to do it again or if it was just because of everything else that had happened.

It had felt almost natural. That was probably because it was Dean it had happened with. She didn't think it would've been natural for her to do that with anyone else.