Author's Note: Sam is not nice in the beginning of this chapter.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Sam was drinking, Alyson realized, as he opened the door for her. Her nose wrinkled slightly at the smell of alcohol coming off of him.
Sam moved away from the door to let her in. He hadn't said she could follow, but she did anyway, and closed the door behind her. She noticed right away the empty bottles of whatever he'd been drinking lying on the table. It appeared to be Sam's third.
Sam sat down on a chair, his movement clumsy.
"So what d'you want?"
"Well, I was gonna see if you needed anything, but . . . looks like you've got it covered."
"Yep." Sam picked up the bottle. "Got it covered."
"Okay. Well . . ." She sat at the table with him. Dean had come back to the room almost thirty minutes ago, having been almost tossed out of this one by Sam.
"I told Dean I didn't want company. What I want is to be left alone."
"Sam, you need to be with people who love you."
"Yeah, and what has that gotten me s-so far?" He didn't give her time to answer. "Nothin' good, that's what." He shrugged. "I mean, I had Jess. She died. I found Madison. I had to kill her."
Sam had tears in his eyes – or maybe they were just glassy from the alcohol.
"But you? You're pretty much indestructible and Dean has you."
What did she have to do with anything?
"You get stuck on the ceiling, you heal. You get tortured, you heal. You don't turn when you get bitten by a werewolf."
Alyson bit her lip to keep from saying anything, to keep from interrupting his rambling. She didn't want to take offense because Sam was drinking, but she knew Sam must've been feeling this at some point or he wouldn't have been saying it. Alcohol may make you loose-lipped, but it didn't implant thoughts in your brain.
"Why does Dean get to have this when I can't?"
The way Sam was talking, Alyson was the last person he wanted comfort from.
"Everybody I touch dies. It's like I'm destined to be alone while you and Dean get to play happily ever after."
Alyson's eyes began to mist over, the image of Sam blurring in front of her. She never would've guessed he had so much built-up resentment inside him. Resentment for her and for Dean, for the world even. He'd held all this anger and pain in for so long that now it was bursting out.
"It was just me and Dean for so long . . . and then you came along and now I'm losing him because of you."
"You're not losing Dean," she said. "I don't know why you think that. But even if you were, it wouldn't be my fault."
Sam acted as if she hadn't even spoken.
"Before you, Dean would tell me what was on his mind. But now all he does is run to you. You're his security blanket."
"I'm his girlfriend." She stood up then, not wanting to sit across from him anymore. "Also, every time Dean tells you something, you nail him with it later. And I think you've had enough."
She grabbed at the bottle he held, but he yanked it away, spilling some of it on him as his hand tipped.
"I'm fine. I can have more if I want."
Alyson threw her hands up in surrender. If Sam wanted to sit there and have himself a pity party, then . . . fine, but she wasn't going to just watch him wallow in his sorrow. If he wanted to be drunk and depressed, then she would let him do it alone.
Alyson didn't go straight to her room. She didn't want to see Dean, or she didn't want him to see her. He would ask why she was upset and she wouldn't lie to him. She'd tell him everything. So waiting was the better option.
Alyson was more angry than hurt – or maybe she was angry because she was hurt. How dare Sam take his loss out on her! It wasn't her fault that he was practically cursed.
She furiously wiped her face clear of tears before heading to her room. Dean was cleaning their weapons, seated on their bed. She knew it relaxed him. It was something familiar. He didn't even need to think about it as he did it.
"Sam okay?" he asked without looking up.
"I dunno. I think he's all twisted up inside. He had a chance to be happy for a while, and it was yanked away."
"Did he talk to you or was he pretty much gone?"
"Oh, he talked to me, all right," she muttered bitterly.
Dean did look up then. He put the weapon he'd been cleaning down.
"From your tone, I'm guessing it wasn't anything good."
"No, it wasn't."
She sat at the table even though she wanted to be by Dean. Maybe she should've asked him to move the weapons.
"Dean . . . I don't think he likes having me around all the time."
"Why would you say that?"
"He said that. He thinks he's losing you because of me."
"Well, that's stupid," Dean said. "I can have you both and still be there for him just the same."
"Yeah, I don't think Sam sees it that way. I mean . . . the way he was talking . . . it was like he hated me or somethin'. But he was drinking, so it doesn't mean anything, right? I mean, he probably won't even remember telling me those things. Right?"
"Maybe not, but you will." Dean stood up, went to her, and pulled her from her seat. "I'll talk to him tomorrow. Drunk or not, I don't want him talking to you like that."
He kissed her forehead.
"It's his problem if he doesn't understand why I want you here."
The next morning Dean woke up to Alyson nuzzling against his neck and nipping at his shoulder. A hand massaged his chest and stomach.
"Mm . . ." He opened his eyes. "This is a very good wake up call."
"Isn't it?" she smiled. "Good morning."
She kissed him slowly, and Dean wrapped an arm around her. Alyson had cried before sleeping last night, and it was all Sam's fault. He really needed to talk to Sammy. Dean knew Sam probably hadn't meant anything the way he'd said it, but he had hurt Aly with his words.
Dean tangled his hand in Aly's messy hair and massaged her scalp. He knew she loved that. Sometimes it comforted her; other times it made her shiver.
Considering her hand was gliding in a downward direction, Dean guessed she'd decided to shiver.
Once they were both satisfied, Dean still on top of her with his head resting in the crook of Aly's neck, he felt her laugh a few times.
"What?"
"You smell like my shampoo."
"That's because you can't keep your hands off of me."
She giggled again and Dean felt his insides soften. He would never admit it out loud, but making her happy was probably his favorite thing to do.
"I really, really love you. You know that?"
"I do know that." He kissed her once more. "I love you too."
The first thing Sam did when he woke up was go to the toilet and vomit. Why did he drink so much when he knew it would make him sick? Drinking never made him feel better, so what was –
"Alyson!"
He remembered her coming to check on him. He'd been downright hateful to her. He needed to see her and apologize.
Once he was sure he wasn't going to be sick again, he got dressed and went to the room Dean and Alyson were staying in. Dean was the one who opened the door and from the look that Dean gave him, Sam knew Dean knew about what he'd said.
"Dean, I . . . I am so sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did."
"Yeah, you know what? You shouldn't have. I know you were hurting, but she deserves more than that. What you did was disrespectful, and I don't want it happening again."
Sam looked at the ground, feeling very much like a child. He was awaiting his punishment. Dean would snap at him and maybe be mad for a few hours, and Sam knew he deserved it. He knew Alyson didn't want to get between him and Dean; that was not and never had been her intention.
"May I come in?"
"Yes, of course. You guys should talk. Work things out."
"Okay."
Sam moved into the room quickly and noticed that Alyson was pointedly not looking at him. Dean grabbed some clothes before going into the bathroom, leaving him alone with Alyson. She still avoided his gaze even as he sat on the bed beside her.
"If there's anything I can do . . ."
"There isn't," she said, finally looking up at him. "You really hurt my feelings, Sam. I mean, I thought we were okay."
"We were. We are."
"Obviously not," she said softly. "I mean, you hate that I'm here."
"That's not true. I know you make him happy, and . . . Look, last night I was drunk. I don't really want you gone. I was just . . . I was hurting and I didn't care what I said. Okay? I don't hate you or . . ."
"Resent the fact that I'm with Dean?"
"I don't resent it exactly. But it does hurt because I can't have what you guys have. Something always goes wrong. I shouldn't have taken it out on you and I'm sorry."
"Fine, but things have to change. No more jealous looks, no more having resentment at our happiness, and no more thinking you'll be alone forever."
"But what if I am?"
"You'll never be alone while me and Dean are alive. And the Yellow-Eyed demon won't be around forever. We'll find a way to kill him and move on with our lives, and you'll meet someone and be happy."
Sam's chest tightened at the fact that even though he had seriously hurt her the night before, here she was comforting him.
"After all this time, after finding out what's out there . . . how do you still have hope?"
"Because of you and Dean," she said. "Because I know there's still good in this world, and because there are still things worth fighting for."
Later that day Sam came across something weird. Alyson didn't know if it was something supernatural, but she did know it wasn't normal. A small-time lawyer named Robert Harris had been killed, chained to a rock in the desert, left there to die. His liver had been eaten, and apparently there was evidence that a bird had done it.
"That's gross," Dean said, "but it sounds like a job for the cops. Not us."
"That what I thought too. But the death sounds familiar to me."
"Serial killer," Alyson suggested.
"No." Sam smiled. "Mythologically speaking, it's how Prometheus died."
"Who?" Dean asked.
"Prometheus. He was a Titan in Greek mythology," Alyson explained. "Supposedly he and his brother were the ones who made man in the image of God – well, the gods back then, anyway."
"How do you know this stuff?" Dean asked.
"World History class and reading. Anyway, I think he was the one who brought fire from heaven so men could survive. That's how the story goes, anyway."
Sam agreed. "Then Zeus made a woman and sent her here to punish men for accepting the gift of fire because it had been stolen."
Dean had been looking back and forth between her and Sam, as if he didn't understand why they knew this stuff.
"Okay, Wikipedia, what about the dead guy? How does he relate to this?"
"We're getting there," Sam said. "Anyway, the first woman was named Pandora."
"Pandora? As in Pandora's box?"
"Yup. And contrary to popular belief, she wasn't evil. The box – or jar, actually – wasn't even hers. It belonged to Epimetheus – Prometheus's brother. She was just curious, and so she opened it."
"Yeah, yeah, I know this part," Dean said, rolling his hand in a gesture that told them to get on with it. "She released a lot of nasty crap. Skip this and get to the good stuff."
"Okay, well, supposedly, at the beginning of the world everything was perfect. It was called the Golden Age."
Sam became animated. He always became excited when he explained things. He would have made a great teacher.
"There was no need for laws because everyone did the right thing all the time and always told the truth. There was no violence, so they didn't have weapons. The earth provided everything humans needed, things grew on their own. Humans didn't even have to work for it."
"Basically, the Golden Age was the Garden of Eden era in the Bible," Alyson said. "Most religions have the same concepts just with different names and places."
"Right," Sam agreed, getting back into it. "The next age was the Silver Age. Jupiter – or Zeus, depending on whether you're reading Roman or Greek mythology - changed the seasons so that men had to go through hot and cold weather. Men had to cut trees down to build houses. Most people lived in caves, though. They had to plant crops now instead of the earth giving it to them automatically."
"The fall of Adam and Eve."
"The worst age was the Iron Age. War sprang up. No one could be trusted. People became greedy, and mythology says that's when the gods abandoned the earth and all the people on it. Jupiter sent a flood."
"The flood? Forty days and forty nights flood?" Dean asked.
"Yeah. Although it doesn't specify how long it took in Roman and Greek mythology."
"Okay, so . . . humans got killed. What about that Titan guy?"
"He was friendly with humans. Myth goes he supposedly intervened, so Jupiter wouldn't kill every human on the planet. Jupiter didn't like that he was so friendly with us humans. Jupiter had Prometheus chained to a rock where a vulture ate his liver, which healed as soon as it was eaten."
"He'd still be suffering today if this were true," Dean said.
"In theory, yeah," Alyson said. "The reason he's a big deal is because he could've ended his pain at any time if only he'd done what the gods had wanted him to. Story goes that he didn't."
"So . . . this lawyer guy," Sam said. "They matched the marks on him with a bird."
"Okay, I admit it's weird, Sam, but what could it be? I've never heard of anything like it."
"I don't know," Sam admitted. "But I need to work, okay?"
Considering what he'd gone through with Madison, he probably did need to work just to take his mind off of things. Besides, Alyson thought it was interesting. She'd always been fascinated by different cultures and the mythology that led the culture's belief system.
Dean gave in. She knew he would. Even if it was only for Sam's benefit. Sam was grieving. Dean would do anything to help him feel better.
"Anymore god-like deaths stand out?" Dean asked, packing his stuff in a bag.
Sam had brought his laptop into our room so he could research further, but so far he hadn't found anything.
"No, and there haven't been any weird accidents or anything at the law firm until now. But . . . the old boss retired recently, so there was a change in management."
"Maybe new management had something to do with it," Alyson said. "Maybe we'll have to check it out."
Vegas, and the area around it, was where they were going and Dean was already joking about sticking around once the case was over.
"Dude, no. If we stayed, we'd get caught or somethin'."
"I'm with Sam," Alyson said. "No gambling, no visiting the casinos at all unless we have to."
"Well, ya'll just suck the fun out of everything, don't you?"
Sam could tell Dean wasn't really upset about not being about to stick around Vegas for anything other than the case. He was probably disappointed, but Dean had to understand why they had to be careful.
"I'm so glad it's warm here," Alyson said, tying her jacket around her waist by the sleeves.
"Yeah, me too," Sam agreed.
They had just arrived in Boulder City and were standing outside a reasonably priced motel. It was at least sixty outside, so it wasn't summer weather by any means, but Alyson loved it. It was just right for her.
"I'm hungry," Dean said. "What d'you guys want?"
"Food," Alyson answered, and grinned when he gave her a mock glare. Then, "Our normal?"
Everything was pricier than they were used to because of where they were, but it wasn't outrageous.
The diner they chose had rock music playing. It was enjoyable.
The person that waited on them was a college-aged guy. He had a baby-face and was adorable. His name was David and he was a little . . . friendly toward Alyson. He called her 'Sweetie" and "Honey." At first Alyson thought he was just being a waiter, but it became clear that he was flirting pretty quickly.
Besides, David stared at her way too much for it not to mean anything. She wasn't even the one who noticed. She never noticed those things because she never expected those things. But Dean noticed; Sam noticed. Dean didn't really care at first, it seemed harmless, so all he did was put an arm around her shoulders. But once he'd made it clear that Alyson was taken and the guy continued staring and flirting, Dean got a little frustrated.
Sam found it all amusing, and Alyson just wanted her salad.
They went back to the motel after eating. They were sharing a room this time. They were working the case, and Dean wanted to keep an eye on Sam.
They spent the rest of the day researching Robert Harris and the law firm he had worked for. Maybe something had happened with that and reached the newspaper.
The day ended with them knowing as much as they did when they'd arrived earlier. Robert Harris had been a lawyer and he had died in a weird way.
They still didn't know if it was supernatural or not.
Okay, so I know Prometheus is an actual character in an episode in a later season, but I don't actually plan on writing all the later seasons. My plan is just for the first five, if that, so it shouldn't be a problem.