Chapter Fifty

Over the next week Alyson began using the journal her dad had given her. She was having weird dreams, so she wrote about those, but what she really wrote about were the hunts she'd been on and how she'd reacted to each thing.

She wrote about her vision quest thing too, and about what her mother had told her about Dean. It had affected her greatly, and most of her dreams had to do with him either dying or leaving, just walking away from her. Then there was Hell; she'd been there for maybe fifteen seconds before begging to be let out. Dean couldn't end up there. He was basically a good person, so she wouldn't let him end up there.

The dreams about Hell were the worst, and she didn't know how to tell Dean about them. She had no idea what to tell him when she woke up crying and sweaty – sometimes screaming and sweaty.

She, Dean, and Sam were at Bobby's, had been since leaving Indiana. Sam had needed time to recover, and Bobby's place was their home even if they weren't always there. It was their safe haven when they had no job to do.

Alyson had been having nightmares since the first night there. The first night both Bobby and Sam had come rushing to the room she was sharing with Dean. Sam was used to her nightmares and Bobby knew about them, but with everything that had happened recently they had to make sure she was having normal nightmares and not ones that would hurt her.

Dean was beginning to become concerned by the nightmares – she was having them every night and she wasn't talking about them. She always told him what was bothering her. She could tell it hurt him because she wasn't opening up to him, but how was she supposed to tell him that he was destined for Hell?

She couldn't.

And Dean wasn't the only one she was hiding things from. Sam didn't know that she was his equal but opposite enemy. Or that they were meant to be enemies. She couldn't let him know that one of them had to kill the other. She loved Sam. He was like a brother to her. She didn't want that hanging over their heads.

Alyson was having another nightmare. The sixth night of having them. It started out the same every night. Dean would wake up to her whimpering and would take in the stiffness of her body, tension pulling her muscles taut. Then things would go one of two ways: She'd either start crying or start screaming.

Whenever she cried, he always heard his name being muttered. It was then that he was always tempted to reach out to her, to see if he could see inside her mind like he sometimes could. He didn't know why he could, but ever since they'd healed Sam together he would sometimes get glimpses of her thoughts if they were touching.

He didn't particularly like it – it was odd; he wasn't a mind reader – but it would've come in handy had he allowed himself to give into temptation. But he hadn't. It would've been an invasion of privacy, and Alyson didn't even know he could do it. It wouldn't have been right.

Aly opened her eyes, a scream already on her lips. Dean had taken to leaving the light on again so she could orient herself more quickly. It worked that night.

"Another nightmare?" he asked, slight bitterness leaking through his words. He didn't mean for them to, but he did not like that she was keeping things from him. That wasn't like them; she was open with him, and he felt safe in being open with her.

This time, however, she didn't answer with anything other than a nod. Dean clenched his jaw and forced himself not to turn from her even though he desperately wanted to because that was what he felt she was doing to him.

"I love you," she said softly. "No matter what I'm doing right now, I love you."

Aly sat up and scooted up until her back was against the headboard. Dean followed suit, moving to face her.

"Well, then . . . talk to me, or talk to somebody. Because whatever you're doing by yourself isn't working."

"I can't. I wish I . . ."

"What's goin' on, Aly? Whatever is happening, it's affecting us now, and I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on."

Tears spilled down her face, and then, "Dean . . . I don't know what to tell you. I don't know how to help you."

Whatever he'd expected to be the problem, it hadn't been him.

"Help me with what?" he asked gently. Now that he had her talking, he wasn't going to push. She needed to speak in her own time.

He wiped her tears away before sliding his hand down and around to cup her neck. He soothed her thumb over her skin.

"You can tell me."

She let out a sob then, and whispered. "I don't want you to go."

"I'm right here," he said and moved closer. "Is that what this about? You're scared I'm going to leave you?"

He wondered vaguely if this had something to do with his past. He had slept with a lot of women and had never had a problem leaving them. Now that he had been with Alyson, was she afraid of him losing interest?

But, no. She was shaking her head almost vehemently. She wasn't worried about that.

"What, then?"

"I'm scared you won't have a choice." She grabbed his hand. "In one of my dreams I . . . I beg you not to go, but you just walk away."

"Why would you dream that?" He felt her anxiety heighten through their connection. "Do you . . . think I would do that to you?"

"No. That's why . . . I just don't want you going anywhere. Okay?"

"I'm not gonna leave you."

This had to have something to do with the vision quest. He knew she'd seen her mother and that Alyson believed that she'd really been there, that it hadn't just been someone Alyson had projected into the role of guide. Her mother had told her that Dean wouldn't be there for her forever. Maybe it had freaked Aly out more than it should have.

He pulled her to him, wrapping her in his arms. He had no clue what to do other than that. Words wouldn't help with this.

"Maybe you should show me what's bothering you."

Or not, if the way she stiffened in his arms was anything to go by. But he really thought it would help her to know he was there and that she wasn't alone.

Plus, he enjoyed having her there. He enjoyed connecting when she did it. He loved feeling her close – it was amazing to be that intimate and not feel threatened. He didn't know if he would like it with anyone else, though. Not even Sam. He loved his brother, but he wasn't sure about wanting him in his head.

"I won't try to see anything you're not telling me. I just think it would help you to feel me there."

She slowly relaxed and nodded her consent, and the slow journey began. Dean felt joy at the fact that she wasn't keeping this from him. He knew just from the little bit she was giving him that she wasn't keeping things from him just because she didn't want him to know; it was mostly because she didn't know how to tell him what she was feeling, what exactly was bothering her.

Dean let his lips fall over hers, soft but insistent. He hoped she could feel his love through that, if not through the connection they shared. He also hoped she could feel the confusion he felt at why she was keeping something as simple as a dream from him.

What he felt was that she thought he wouldn't believe her even if she told him the truth.

"Believe what? What won't I believe?"

'Did he hear my thoughts?'

"I can hear bits and pieces," he admitted. "I think our connection grows stronger every time we do this."

He felt a small push against his mind and knew she was trying to read his thoughts as he had done hers. He tried to open for her, but it was weird and invasive, and he suddenly felt vulnerable. What if she saw something he didn't want her to see?

Alyson was thinking the same thing. She was going on and on. The mind was a private place; they could read something the other person didn't want read. Maybe getting into the other's mind wasn't a good idea.

"Do you always rant to yourself like that?"

"Yes. You should've heard the stuff going through my head the first time we had sex."

Dean laughed. He could only imagine.

"I can't feel you," she said. "In my head, I mean. Usually I can feel when someone's trying to get in my head, but with you it's like it's okay for you to be there."

"Maybe it is. You're you and I'm me, and we're us."

She sighed then and Dean felt the acceptance of what he'd said. Then she was completely open and Dean was falling into a nightmare – her nightmare.

He had no idea where he was, but it was awful. There were screams coming from all directions. Screams of terror and of pain. The smell of sulfur filled the air around him and Dean automatically looked around for something demonic.

It took him a few seconds to recognize the smell of blood and burning flesh. Someone screamed for help, but Dean knew no help would come.

There was nothing but pain and evil and hopelessness there. Where was there? Why was Alyson dreaming of this place? Was this something she'd seen in her vision quest? Why? Why would she have seen this? This was no place for her to have seen. Not Alyson, not the one he knew, the girl that could heal people, that was so full of light that even Dean's darkness was diminished at times.

Aly's soul pulled from his suddenly, shocking him back into reality. She was shaking, back against the headboard now. She'd seen everything he had – she'd been seeing it for days. No wonder she'd been having nightmares.

"I'm sorry, but you wanted to know what I was dreaming about."

Dean had been silent for a whole minute now, as if he had no idea what to say. He probably didn't. Who would, after seeing what he had? He had been terrified; she'd felt his fear as if it had been her own. She'd broken their connection then, knowing that was the only way to bring him out of it.

"Why were you dreaming that? Where was that?" he demanded.

"That was Hell, Dean. My mom sent me there for maybe fifteen seconds, and I begged her to let me out."

"Why did she send you there? I thought she was supposed to help you."

"She did." She inhaled and exhaled slowly. She grabbed Dean's hand, craving physical contact. "Remember when I said that my mom told me you wouldn't be with me forever, that you wouldn't be able to protect me forever?"

"Yeah. What about it?"

"I asked where you were going and she sent me there."

"Why?" Dean's voice was breathless, hushed. She knew he was worried, and she didn't know how to help him.

"Mom told me I wouldn't be able to save you. No matter how hard I try I won't be able to save you."

At least Dean would understand now. He wouldn't like it, but he would understand. She wanted to know what he was feeling now that he knew – she was sorry she'd severed the connection. She could tell he didn't blame her for withholding her dreams from him. She didn't have to read his mind to read his face – she could read every emotion he let flicker through his eyes and over his face. He wasn't as unreadable as he liked to think he was.

"Your mom told you that I end up there?" Dean said. "That's what you meant when you said you didn't want me to go, isn't it?"

"I'm not gonna let that happen. I don't care. I'll train every day if I have to."

"With Jack, you mean." She could tell Dean didn't love that idea. "Are you sure you can trust him?"

"I don't know." She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. "I don't have a choice, though, if it means I can save you. Maybe that's why he's here."

When Dean and Alyson made it downstairs the next morning Sam and Bobby were already in the kitchen drinking coffee and talking about a man they had read about who had been found with his heart removed.

"Nice conversation, guys," Alyson quipped, heading towards the fridge. She grabbed the milk before heading to the cabinet to get two coffee mugs – one for Dean, one for herself.

Dean went ahead and sat down since he knew Alyson was getting his coffee for him. Neither had slept well after she had showed him her nightmare.

"You guys want breakfast?" Alyson asked.

Bobby had started keeping more food in the house because he never knew when they were going to be there or for how long. That day they had a good country breakfast: biscuits and gravy, bacon, sausage, and eggs. Everything was easy to fix and Alyson had it done within an hour.

"Do we have a case?" Dean asked when he was close to finished with his food.

"Maybe. It sorta depends."

"On?"

"It's in San Francisco."

Sam glanced at Alyson and then at Dean. The last time they had been in San Francisco Alyson had been kidnapped and tortured. Sam was leaving the decision up to them.

"I don't mind going," Aly said. "Sounds pretty serious. Hearts being removed and all."

"Okay," Sam said. "So, this guy, Nate Mulligan, was pretty much shredded to pieces. His assistant found him."

"Ew."

"Yeah. He was in his office. The cops think it was a dog. They found bite marks."

"Hm." Alyson finished her coffee. "Are we leaving today?"

"Yeah?" Sam glanced at Dean, who nodded. "Yeah. We still won't get there until late tonight."

On the way to San Francisco, Alyson called her dad to let him know that she was ready to start training whenever he got the chance. There was a small amount of doubt in her mind about learning how to use her abilities, but if there was even a chance of her helping Dean live and not end up in Hell . . . she was gonna take it.

She still didn't know how he was supposed to end up there . . . or why.

At the motel, Alyson had trouble sleeping. This time it wasn't because of nightmares. It was because she'd slept in the car. Alyson watched a little bit of TV, but all she could find were infomercials. She had even played a few games on her phone, but nothing had gained her attention for more than a few moments.

She sighed, putting her phone on the bedside table.

Sam was asleep, and Dean's eyes were shut – he was probably pretending to be asleep. Alyson got up and went to Sam's bag, where his laptop was. She decided that she would at least try to be productive. She could research.

She set everything up at the table, seating herself there before looking up a local newspaper site.

Nate Mulligan had been a lawyer and now he was dead. The police weren't really looking into it because his death had been ruled an animal attack. That would've been plausible aside from the fact that the guy's heart had been removed.

Nate had been single, no enemies to speak of. There had been no reason for anyone to want him dead. If someone human had done this, whoever it had been had really held a grudge if they had taken the time to remove the heart.

The deeper she dug, the weirder it got. Other people had been killed the same way – bite marks, the heart removed. It happened monthly. Ritualistic killing, maybe. Some spells required body parts, so maybe . . .

But that wouldn't account for the bite marks.

She wrote down the date of each death, and realized they had been occurring for the past year – maybe even longer than that. The main difference between the victims was that aside from Nate Mulligan, the victims had all been female.

When seven o'clock rolled around, Sam got up. She shared the information she'd found in the newspapers.

"I, uh, still don't know how to hack into the police database, so . . . you or Dean is going to have to."

"Actually, I was planning on going to the morgue today. Did you wanna come with?"

"Mm . . . not gonna be much help today. Got no sleep at all."

"Couldn't have anything to do with you sleeping in the car on the way here."

Alyson grinned. "Right. I might try to nap while you're gone. There's nothing for me to do here."

After Sam left, Alyson didn't get to sleep. Her dad called her; why was he calling her this early in the morning? Whatever the reason, she got her phone and went to the bathroom to talk. She didn't want to disturb Dean if he was actually sleeping.

"Yeah?"

"Alyson? Why are you whispering? Did I wake you up?"

"No, but Dean is still asleep."

"Okay. Well, I had something I wanted you to work on until I get to see you again."

"Okay."

"The faster you get this down, the quicker you should be able to train. I need you to visualize your power as a light that sort of radiates outward. That's the energy inside you. You may even be able to feel it once you start visualizing and using it."

"Or I might just feel stupid."

Though she had done the visualization thing before and it had worked. Maybe Jack was right.

"I'm in the bathroom of a motel room. What am I supposed to do with the energy once I have it?"

"Oh . . . yeah, that may be a problem. Um . . . focus on your brush or toothbrush or something. Make it float."

"Float?" She'd never made anything float before. Her powers were more destructive than that.

"At least get used to calling on your power."

"How do I do that?"

"You need to find a calm place. Any place, any person that can help you find peace."

"Hm."

Dean appeared in the mirror's reflection, and Alyson caught his eye through it.

"Who are you talking to this early in the morning?"

"My dad."

He shook his head. "Come to bed, Aly. I know you didn't sleep."

"I'll . . . be there in a minute."

Dean didn't seem to think that was an acceptable answer. He moved behind her until his chest touched her back. She loved the warmth his body provided. His arms wrapped around her as he kissed her head before moving his lips to her free ear. She shivered as he asked her again to come back to bed.

"Um . . . Dad? Can I call you back later?"

She wasn't focusing on their conversation anyway, not with Dean there. Not with him rubbing up her sides to her breasts. She almost moaned into the phone.

"Sure," her dad said. "Go to bed, get some rest. You'll need your strength."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay."

She hung up her phone as Dean's lips latched onto the side of her neck.

"That was so mean," she said.

"Mm." Dean grinned wickedly. "Now will you come to bed?"

As if she could say anything other than yes.

"Will you be able to sleep now?" Dean asked. "I think I just proved that I'm very much here."

"Mm."

Dean had just laid on his side after slipping out of Alyson. They had made slow but passionate love once they had reached the bed, and Dean could feel that she felt a little better at least.

He brought her closer to him and she placed her head on his shoulder. His hand tangled into her hair and he began massaging her scalp. He knew she liked that. Sometimes he could put her to sleep that way.

"Hey, Aly?"

"Hm?"

"Can you . . . feel me when we touch? I mean . . . even when we're not connected. Because I can feel you. That's how I knew something was bothering you. I mean, besides the fact that you didn't sleep last night."

"How long? Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want you to think I was some empath or something. And it only happens with you."

Alyson grinned against him – he could feel her face shift.

"You think it would bother me if you suddenly developed powers?" She wrapped an arm around him. "Did you forget who you were talking to?"

He chuckled. "No. Just me being me."

"Right." She got up and found Dean's shirt. She slipped it on. "Sam went to talk to the coroner. He's supposed to get police reports too."

Aly went on to explain about the girls she'd found out about on the internet.

"It happens every month?" he asked. "Could be a ritualistic killing. Something dealing with witches – or just a whacked out serial killer."

Aly laid back on the bed. "I thought ritual killing as well, but that wouldn't account for the animal bite, right?"

"True. What kind of animal? Didn't the newspaper say dog?"

"Mm-hm. The girls and Nate Mulligan."

"We need to check the lunar cycle, but we may be dealing with a werewolf."

"A werewolf? Seriously?"

Alyson shook her head. Of course werewolves existed. Why wouldn't they? Vampires did. Ghosts did. Naturally, werewolves existed.