When the Cradle Falls

Chapter Fifty-One: Lucky Gemini

They were elsewhere. It was somewhere different; the open roads with barren lands on either side swallowed them up and spat them out somewhere in the continental United States. It all looked the same.

Cara and Noah were safe from an evil fairytale witch that had tried to eat them for dinner and then dessert. The house that had once held them captive was now gone, no tangible evidence that what they went through was any more than a wretched fever dream. They had tumbled out of the forest, essentially falling into the hands of their father and uncle. They didn't wait long, just put an anonymous tip to the police for where the remains of the missing children may be located.

After being forced together by the witch, it had given the brother and sister a chance to talk. The anger and pain was all there, it always would be, but they were back on the same page. The cliche was them against the world, as well as heaven and hell while they were at it.

Being held hostage by a witch was apparently exhausting, and both kids were now passed out in the backseat as the Impala barreled through the darkness, as the brothers quietly argued. In the midst of trying to find his kids, Dean found his brother had an encounter while they split up to look for Cara and Noah.

"Because demon, that's why! I mean the second you find out this Ruby chick is a demon you go for the holy water! You don't chat!"

Exasperated, Sam shook his head in the passenger seat. "No one was chatting, Dean."

"Oh yeah? Then why didn't you send her ass back to Hell?" Dean spat back. Between his deal, the fact his kids had been kidnapped, Alice's mental break, and now this, Dean was a man only a few straws away from snapping.

"Because…because she said she might be able to help us out."

Dean paused. "How?"

"She said she'd help find the kids."

"Well she didn't! Next time she shows up, I'm sending her ass packing."

"That wasn't all," Sam replied, quietly, brushing his shaggy hair out of his face. He stared petulantly ahead.

"No, really, Sam. How? How could she possibly help us?" The tone was mostly sarcastic, but Sam swore he could hear an edge of desperation mixed in with it all.

"She told me she could help you, okay? Help you out of the crossroads deal."

Incensed to the nth degree, Dean all but wrenched the steering wheel out of its place. For being so book smart, his little brother could be a fucking idiot sometimes. His anger was palpable as he laid into his little brother. "What's wrong with you, huh? She's lying. You gotta know that, don't you? I mean after everything you've been through with demons. She knows your weakness…it's me…it's them." Dean motioned towards the back. "What else did she say?" He asked carefully.

Sam looked glancingly at his brother, but kept his mouth shut.

"Dude!" Dean asked, but mostly yelled.

"Nothing. Nothing, okay? Look I'm not an idiot, Dean. I know what I've been through! I'm not talking about trusting her, I'm talking about using her. I mean, we're at war. Right? And we don't know jack about the enemy. We don't know where they are, we don't know what they're doing. I mean, hell, we don't know what they want. Now this Ruby girl knows more than we will ever find out on our own. Now hell yeah, it's a risk, I know that. But we need to take it. Better it ends with me than Noah."

Reflexively, Dean reacted to Sam bringing up Noah. "He has fucking nothing to do with this."

Sam's gaze was baleful. Both of the brothers knew that wasn't true.

Dean shifted the conversation slightly. "You're okay. Right? I mean you're feeling alright?"

Huffy, Sam crossed his arms. "Yes. I'm fine. Why are you always asking me that? You hardly ask the kids. Haven't talked to Alice since-"

The tense conversation was interrupted by the shrill ring of a phone.

"Not mine," Sam indicated, holding up his own.

Dean patted his pockets. "Nope. Check the glove compartment. It's Dad's."

"Dad's?" Sam asked, genuinely surprised.

The older brother nodded. "Yes. I keep it charged up in case any of his old contacts call."

Reaching forward, Sam fished through the glove compartment to find the ringing phone. He took the call, with Dean trying to piece together what the other line was saying, as well as keeping his eyes on the road.

When he hung up, Sam turned to look at Dean. "Dad ever tell you he kept a container at a storage place?"

"What?"

"Outside of Buffalo?" Sam asked.

"No way," Dean said.

The younger brother nodded. "Yeah. And someone just broke into it."

The Next Day

Buffalo, New York

The lattice door to the elevator opening, two generations stepping out into the dank hallway, "Man…" Dean muttered, as they searched for the number.

Sam turned to his brother. "What?"

Dean shook his head. "Just Dad and his secrets. Spend all this time with the guy and it's like we barely even know the man."

Sam glanced at the two children that were walking between them, wanting to comment on the irony of Dean's words. For most of his life, Dean had kept Sam's niece and nephew a secret. Sure, Dean had his reasons, but surely, John did too.

"Well…we're about to learn something," Sam said, keeping the conversation moving.

There was a heavy, metal door that opened to behold a dusty scene, not unlike a pawn or antique shop.

Right in front of the door was a devil's trap in red spray paint, several footprints erasing some of the curves and lines. "No demons allowed," Sam commented, traveling across the trap.

Knowing his father, Dean held an arm out, stopping Cara and Noah from going any further, as Sam continued. The children stopped, watching their father produce a metal wire.

"Blood…check it out," Dean said, mostly to Sam.

Sam stopped right before the tripwire that was placed, still holding his shotgun tight to the shoulder. "Whoever was here got tagged."

"Dear old Dad," Dean muttered. He looked down at the state of the storage locker. "Kids," he said, turning back. "Tell me what you see."

Eagerly coming forward, Cara stood next to her dad and surveyed the scene. The place looked pretty intact besides the tripwire. "It's really dusty in here. No one's been in here for a while."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Noah? What do you see? Look at the floor."

Glancing down, Noah noticed the blood that his father had already mentioned, and the dust that Cara had pointed out. "There's footsteps."

Dean nodded. He squatted down and pointed for the kids to see. "You're both right. But look at this. Do you see there's two separate tracks?"

"There were two of them," Cara realized.

"Yep. Looks like it was a two-man job. And our friend with the buckshot in him looks like he kept walking."

"So what's the deal? Dad would do work here or something?" Sam asked as he shined his flashlight along the grimy, cobweb-covered walls.

Dean shrugged. "Living the high life as usual."

The family unit ventured deeper into the storage unit, dust particulates glittering when captured by the beams of the flashlights.

The Winchester brothers ventured deeper inside, while Cara and Noah hung back a bit, still in some twisted awe that this place were the catacombs of their grandfather, a man they had only met once.

Dean's flashlight swept over a skull, which caused him to chuckle. The beam stopped at a dusty trophy. Holding the flashlight in the crook of his elbow, Dean picked it up, wiping the dust off. "1995," he said, reading the plaque. The year Cara was born.

"No way!" Sam exclaimed, snatching the trophy from Dean. "That's my Division Championship soccer trophy. I can't believe he kept this."

"Yeah…that was probably about the closest you ever came to being a boy," Dean retorted, trying not to think how around this time, he had left Sammy to deal with their dad. The thought quickly retreated when Dean saw something that caught his attention. "Oh wow! It's my first sawed-off. I made it myself. Sixth grade." Laughing, he pumped the shotgun.

"Cara, Noah, come take a look at this," Dean said, turning to show his kids the gun he had made.

Noah ooh-ed and aah-ed over the decrepit weapon, while Cara admired it silently, wondering how someone her age could make something like that. She couldn't even fathom how one would even begin something like that.

"Dean, come on," Sam said, as he moved towards the back of the storage space.

Setting down the relic, Dean motioned for Cara and Noah to follow behind him, their flashlights revealing even more items hidden in the space. "Holy crap. Look at this. He had landmines, which they didn't take. Or the guns," Dean commented.

"Then what were they looking for?" Cara asked. It was pretty apparent that it was a coincidence these men had ended up there. They were definitely looking for something specific.

"I would've definitely taken the landmines," Noah said, admiration growing at how cool and badass his late grandfather was.

The tangent was broken by Sam calling for everyone's attention, his flashlight illuminating a set of black boxes. "See these symbols? That's binding magic. These are curse boxes."

"Curse boxes? They keep evil in. Right?"

"Like Pandora's box!" Cara said.

"Nerd," Noah shot back at her.

"Children, behave." Dean said absentmindedly.

"Yeah, they're built to contain the power of a cursed object," Sam said.

"Well, Dad's journal did mention a whole bunch of stuff. You know? Dangerous hexed items. He never did say where they end up."

Sam scoffed. "Yeah, well this must be his toxic waste dump." Sam noticed there was a square spot where the dust had not touched, as if something had been sitting there. "And one box is missing…great."

"Is it too much to hope they didn't open it?" Dean asked.

Sam sent his brother a glare, indicating he had no faith in the intelligence of the human race.

BREAK

"You know, I had a weird dream."

Cara sent her brother a disgusted look. "Good for you."

"No, I mean last night."

"I don't wanna hear about it." Cara said, sipping from her smoothie.

The two were sitting on a bench across the street from the police station where their father and uncle were, trying to gather some more information about what was going on with the case. There was only so much they could do, and that didn't include walking into a police station. They were still a little too young to even pretend to be interns.

"No. In the car. I don't know if it was a dream. But I dreamt that Dad and Uncle Sam were arguing."

"Shocking," Cara muttered.

"Will you stop and listen for one sec!" Noah demanded, glaring at her.

Deciding she was being a bit difficult, Cara nodded and set the cup down on the bench between them. "Okay. I'm listening."

"It was after everything with the witch. When we were driving away, I had a dream that Dad and Sam were arguing about a demon."

He waited for his sister to lob some smartass comment at him. But she didn't.

"And what about the dream?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I feel like I can't really remember any of the words. I just heard 'demon'. I couldn't really hear what they were saying. But I could tell. I could hear it in their voices."

"You sure it was a dream?" Cara asked.

He had considered that. "I don't know."

Cara pondered the information, squinting across the street at a squirrel that was running up a tree. She was sure Noah had been half asleep and caught a snippet of an argument between the two men. "You think they were talking about Dad's deal?"

"What else would they be talking about?" Noah spat out bitterly. He didn't blame Cara anymore that she had kept a secret from him. There was an unmooring sadness knowing that there was a growing fire that was going to swallow up his father forever.

Chewing on the inside of her lip, Cara quickly swept away the beads of tears forming in the corners of her eye. It was a moment she had been caught in a lot lately. Usually, Cara felt like she was always prepared with a witty retort, or at least something to say. But looking at her little brother, he looked especially young, his floppy hair obscuring most of his face. There weren't any words she could say that would mean anything.

Instead of saying anything, Cara moved the smoothie and set it on the ground. She slid across the bench towards her brother and wrapped an arm around him. There was a fifty-fifty chance he would punch her in the arm and throw it off of him.

That was something Noah hadn't been expecting. He tensed at first when he felt her arm across his back, wondering what she was doing. When the arm didn't move, he realized it was an alternative attempt for Cara to comfort him.

Responding, Noah leaned into the hug and wrapped his arms around her as well, tightly. They hadn't hugged like that for a long time.

Page, Arizona

Knights Inn Page Motel

Once the door was shut behind her, Olivia locked it. She dropped the brown paper grocery bags onto the nearby table, mindlessly sifting through them. She pulled out and sorted the things that belonged in the freezer, fridge, and out on the counter. As she mechanically moved, she allowed her mind to wander. It was something she had prevented herself from doing for a long time. Every thought had always been controlled, consequenced, and corrected. Ever since Cliff had cheated on her, things had become a lot clearer and a lot uglier.

She had been a middle child in a hunting family. Her dad was this cool dude that had groovy, wavy hair and a killer mustache-his words…but still, they rang true. Her mother, on the surface, had always been carefree and fun, but underneath, she was cloistered shut, like an oyster holding a pearl dearly within. Olivia's older sister was this badass hunter that would never take any shit from anyone, could pull any guy, and was too cool for her little sister. Then there was Olivia. She was quiet and unassuming. She could shoot and fight well enough, but was always proud of how good she was at hiding and lying. Always had been. And then there was her little brother. He had always been a moody outcast. But still, he was the baby and the only boy, so once he was born, most of the attention had been lobbed at him.

Her parents had always been go-with-the-flow and down-for-anything. There was nothing she could do to get their attention. They were fine with bringing home boys and smoking weed and shooting guns.

But there was one clause.

One stipulation.

Do what you want as long as you don't hurt anyone else.

There was one thing. One thing that fractured the family that sent her hurtling away on her own.

She fucked her sister's husband.

And even worse than that. She fucked her niece's daddy.

Now, now, finally, all the eyes were on her.

And they were. She played the part and loved it. They moved far away. She played the innocent preacher's wife, wearing all pink, not wanting to break a nail. She attended women's bible studies and gave to the poor. She slept in a double-size bed with her stolen husband and pretended to be coy when he wanted to do something in bed she'd already done a dozen times.

After a while, the act infected her like a sickness. She became that sickness and truly thought that at her core she was a preacher's wife.

And how did that end? With her stolen husband/brother-in-law/father-of-her-niece getting blown before the feet of Christ.

Comical.

Just desserts.

Olivia was always good at appearing sweet and innocent. Maybe it was the blonde hair and the innocent face, but she played the part so well she lived it. She made nice with, and became best friends with her Aunt Sherry. Maybe it was part of the act, like they were just dodging something.

One dodging the guilt of ruining the lives of her sister and niece. And perhaps the other one for disowning her only child.

Olivia did it all with the mindset she was always right. Sure, it started off bad, but all Cliff needed was a good woman to keep him tethered and close to God. He needed something solid. Not something scary like Piper.

"No!" Olivia audibly yelled as she clapped her hands together loudly. She knew she was alone, but she didn't want this to be the time she had a moment. The moment being how she spent years of her life.

The moment was over. And now?

She needed to pick her cousin up from therapy.

Alice huddled on a backless sandstone bench. It was too far away from the building for her to lean against it. So instead, she hunched forward, spine curving as she rested her elbows on knees, head resting in one hand, while the other idly held a forgotten cigarette. It had become a bit of a habit for Alice to light up whenever she exited a building. But this time, there was no desire to take a puff off the stick. Instead, the smoke twirled, unfocused in her vision. There was so much in her mind that she was stuck. It wasn't blank, but she couldn't make herself focus on one thing.

She was on a pretty intensive therapy schedule. It was outpatient, but she had it every weekday, for five hours a day, with a mix of individual and small group therapy.

She was in her second week, and the program lasted for eight weeks.

It was essentially a full time job. But still, Alice had never felt this exhausted when she was a nurse, even when she pulled doubles, worked overnight shifts, and picked up extras.

Perhaps she wondered how sitting in a room all day talking and listening could be so exhausting.

But she knew.

It was because it was her soul that was tired, as opposed to just her body.

Sighing deeply, she pulled her fingers apart and let the cigarette fall to the ground. It sizzled once it touched the asphalt.

She still wasn't used to this weather. In Illinois, the summers could be brutal and humid. But it didn't last all year. Here, there was a constant, stagnant heat that lingered in the air. But it was a dry one, where the air pulled all the water molecules out of your body, dehydrating you.

Suddenly realizing how dry her throat felt, Alice coughed, and brought a hand to her neck. She massaged it, gaze still unfocused. In front of her there was a small parking lot, glittering heat waves rising from the dark pavement. There was desert fauna purposefully decorated around the perimeter of the lot.

The clinic where Alice had been attending outpatient therapy was a squat, stucco building, the color of burnt orange. It had a flat roof and unadorned, square windows. Instead of grass and flowers that Alice was used to seeing in the Midwest, the front of the building was decorated with spindly, spiky plants poking up through gravel.

Nailed into the side of the building were letters that spelled the name "COCONINO COUNTY HEALTH CENTER AND SERVICES". At one point, Alice was sure the letters were polished silver that reflected sunlight. But now, they were tarnished and smudged.

The whole place was doused in a yellow hue that felt like a filter over a western movie.

Sure she was on the other side of the country, but Alice truly felt like she was on a different planet.

Olivia's car hugged the curb, stopping right in front of Alice.

With a heavy sigh, Alice stood, looping the strap of her purse over a shoulder, making sure she could feel the box of cigarettes through the thin fabric of her thin cardigan. She pulled open the door and sat down in the front seat, feeling like a sullen teacher being picked up from school by her mother.

Olivia didn't say anything right away. She'd tried the first few days to ask Alice how it went, but quickly realized-after Alice snapping at her-that not saying anything was better. However, this time, Olivia looked around, frowning.

Noticing that she was still stopped, Alice glanced at her cousin. "What's wrong?"

"It's just…by the time I come to get you, you're the only one."

"What? You think I'm lying about what I do all day?" Alice asked.

Telling that this had the potential to go very badly, Olivia chose her words carefully. "No, that's not what I'm saying. I just mean…there's no cars in the parking lot. No one was walking around. This place looks like a ghost town."

That's because I'm a ghost. "Because I like some time to just sit here before you come and get me. It's too much to go from therapy back to the motel. I need some time to transition."

To Olivia, that meant Alice had been sitting there for a decent amount of time by herself. But if that's what she needed, then that's what she needed.

The blonde simply nodded. "Makes sense," Olivia commented, putting the car into gear, easing away from the building.

The brother's emerged from the police station, Dean first, with Sam behind him, berating his brother for whatever smartass comment Dean had made about the police department's lack of motivation, skill, among other things. The department had been wholly unhelpful trying to spot the car that had been found at John's storage unit. The whole event of putting on the FBI suits and interacting with the skinny, nerdy police officer, who looked like he was fresh out of high school, was an enormous waste of time.

As Sam continued to bitch, Dean was only half listening, internally and physically rolling his eyes, when he noticed something across the street. There was a park bench where Cara and Noah had been sitting when they left.

Across the street, he could see his children huddled together, something they used to do when they were little.

There was a sharp pang, like a needle poking him in the sternum. A tiny, but significant reminder that he would never get to see the two of them grow up. It was an ugly slap in the face, but one that he had done to himself. With the deal, and backwards in time to the sparse trips to see Alice, and then not speaking to her for a while. Always in the name of keeping them safe. But now none of it seemed worth it. He had wasted so much time away from them in the name of protecting them. He would never give up what he did for Sam, but Dean suddenly found himself wishing for more time with Cara and Noah.

As Dean jaywalked across the seat, Sam nitpicked him for not using the crosswalk; Cara and Noah seeing their father coming, immediately disconnected from the hug and increased the amount of space between them on the bench, as if putting on a stone mask for their father.

Another needle. "Hey," Dean greeted.

"Hi Dad. Did you guys find anything?" Cara coughed, an attempt to cover up a hoarse quality of her voice.

"Well actually-"

"Shut up, Sam," Dean said, cutting off his brother. "We didn't get anything useful."

In response, Sam crossed his arms and arranged his features into the classic bitch face. "Actually, I did get a license plate."

"When?" Dean asked, his jaw dropping.

"I did a quick search on one of their computers when you were talking with the cop."

"Then why didn't you lead with that?!" Dean demanded, socking his brother in the arm,

"You wouldn't let me finish."

"Oh my god you really are such a bitch," the older brother muttered. He motioned for his kids. "Let's hear what Aunt Sammy has to say."

"Dean!"

BREAK

It wasn't soon after that, Sam and Dean had located the apartment and confronted the men that had stolen the curse box. The Winchesters had been trained their entire lives to fight evil, making them adept in weapons training and hand-to-hand combat. But the moment they stepped foot in that rundown apartment, every skill and maneuver was void, having no idea what had been in the box. In a comically embarrassing fight, the common thieves nearly had the upper hand over them. But eventually, the tides of the fight had turned and the literal lucky charm was revealed: a rabbit's foot.

After procuring the rabbit's foot, Dean was predictably famished, and ran into a Biggerson's to get some burgers and fries. Noah asked for a hamburger and Cara didn't want anything. In combination with the inordinate amount of fast food they were eating, and the unfading reminder of their Dad's ticking life, it was hard to choke down a meal, let alone feel hungry.

While the kids were somber in the back, Dean took out a double-burger and began to devour it like he had never eaten in his entire life.

"I'm not finding anything on it in Dad's journal," Sam said. The rabbit's foot was tucked in his pocket.

Ignoring him, Dean held up several lottery tickets, his mood turning after having a meal, and the potential of winning some money.

"Dean, come on."

"What are those?" Noah asked, poking his head between the seats.

"Scratch offs. What? Hey, that was my gun that he was aiming at your head and my gun does not jam. So that was a lucky break. Not to mention them taking themselves out, also a lucky break. Here, scratch one. Come on Sam, scratch and win!"

"What do you win?" His son asked.

"The green stuff. Cash money."

"You are a child," Sam grumbled, as he grudgingly took one of the cards and a coin from Dean. "But seriously, Dean, it's gotta be cursed somehow. Otherwise Dad wouldn't have locked it up," Sam cautioned, putting the card on his knee so he could scratch it off. When he was done, he handed it back to his brother.

Dean squinted at it for a moment. "Twelve hundred dollars. You just won twelve hundred dollars! I don't know man, it doesn't seem that cursed to me. Here, do another. This next one will be for Cara's college fund."

Alice and Olivia had gone out for dinner. It was a tiny diner and bar with wood paneling on the floor, ceiling, and walls, making the patrons feel like they were trapped in a dusty box that was covered in peeling pleather.

"Do you mind if I get a drink?" Olivia asked, as she glanced over the menu. The two had bonded over some drinks, so now that Alice had started her meds, she didn't drink.

Alice gave a little smile. "Have one for me."

Olivia ordered a glass of Merlot. When it came to the table, Alice laughed. She was honestly surprised there was still a drop of humor left in her. She'd been numb for a long time. And honestly, she didn't know if feeling numb or feeling shitty was better.

Therapy meant a lot of introspection. And it had come to Alice's attention that she had never really been "okay" her entire life. Her childhood was tinged in a blue hue, always walking around on eggshells, parallel with a mother that never saw her as enough. And then in the river, when she found out she was pregnant. That could've been the end of her, but instead, a guardian angel disguised as a fisherman shot the trajectory of her life in a completely different direction.

When Dean was as consistent as he could be in her life, she had an anchor. Although it was an invisible, distant one bobbing its way across the continental U.S.; there was still something that kept her from drowning.

And then she found out about monsters and evil. And then she lost her aunt.

And then she'd become a monster in the eyes of her children.

Of all the shit that had happened in her life, it was inevitable that a breakdown of her soul and being would occur.

The two were used to dining in silence, a product of Alice's silent childhood table and Olivia trying to shed the role of being seen and not heard at the dinner table.

"Can I ask you about something?" Alice asked.

A cucumber from the garden salad she ordered was halfway to her mouth. "Sure."

Alice twisted her fingers together, staring at the carbonated bubbles of her Sprite. "I want you to tell me about Grandma Julia."

Olivia nodded. She hadn't really mentioned much about their grandmother, as she didn't want to cause Alice any worry. Now she was wondering if she did her cousin a disservice by keeping the truth of their grandmother a secret.

"I mean, I don't know how well you remember her."

Alice shook her head. She didn't have very many memories of her, and the few ones she had were . Her grandmother wasn't in her life for very long before Julia passed. "I just remember she was always anxious and irritable."

Olivia bit her lip, feeling a sting of pity for her cousin. She was only a few years older than Alice, but before the dementia had really taken control of Julia, she had been one of Olivia's favorite people. There was never a mountain that was too big or a river that was too roaring. Julia moved through life, cutting through those mountains and walking across the waters. She had always been friendly, could make anyone feel welcome, and always made sure her family was taken care of.

Grandma Julia did have bipolar, but it wasn't something that Olivia had really ever considered. It just made her grandmother seem like she had boundless energy. But, looking back, Olivia supposed it made sense where she would see her grandmother frequently and then go weeks or months without seeing her.

But it was insidious. Once the dementia set in, their entire family dynamic blew up. Julia, who had held the family together, crumbled and essentially turned to dust. She became a shell of herself; a depressed, mottled shadow.

So Olivia did her best to explain how she remembered their grandmother, before and after. She explained it in a more rationalized lens, using the diagnoses, and information she had gotten from her parents when she got a little bit older.

The entire time, Alice sat there silently, chewing the end of her straw, contemplating the words, but nodding along, indicating she was absorbing everything.

The information that Olivia presented made sense to Alice. She could see some things in her grandmother mirrored within herself. It was like reaching through time and pulling the thread that connected the two generations of women.

"That tracks," Alice said. "I mean, odds are one of us was bound to end up like her."

The waiter came and gave Olivia a new glass of wine. She twirled one finger in it and watched the red liquid create a whirlpool. She continued to stare down into the glass. "And your mother, too."

It seemed like a bubble blew around Alice. The ambience of the restaurant faded away. There were no more quiet conversations or silverware clinking against plates. As the sound went away, so did all the light and color in the rest of the building, like Alice was standing center stage, a bright spotlight trained on her and the blonde.

Not noticing the shift in her cousin, Olivia kept talking. "I mean, I can see a lot of Grandma Julia in Aunt Sherry. The anxiety and the irritability like you said.

"But, I mean she was never really the same, after Eli."

Alice's face changed minutely. Eli?

Olivia was still talking to her wine glass. "I mean, I don't have any kids, but I've talked to Aunt Sherry about it, just a little bit. When she lost your brother, that really broke her."

The bubble popped. All the lights and sounds came flooding back, intensity and contrast cranked all the way up.

"My brother?" Alice asked. A waterfall of ice coated her entire body, from skin to core.

Olivia appeared like a prey animal trapped in the crosshairs of a rifle. "I thought-I thought you knew. How could you not?" It wasn't meant to sound accusatory or dismissive, but Olivia couldn't believe it. She dropped her voice. "They never told you?"

"Told me about what? A brother I never knew about?" Alice's voice was wavering, barely a whisper. "You're lying. You better be lying." The familiar sting of budding tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

"I'm not. I'm not lying."

"How do I know you're not? You've spent your entire life lying and cheating," Alice lobbed back. Everything she learned in therapy. Every coping strategy, every technique was gone from her brain.

And that was the curse that Olivia would always have to deal with. No matter how sorry she was or how much she atoned for her sins, she would always be known as a cheater and a liar. "I'm not lying about this. Alice- I'm so sorry, I thought you knew. But Eli, he was your twin. He was born before you, and died before you were even born. Your mother asked that we never talk about it. I thought that's why you knew we came here. It's because his ashes are here."

Alice's breath caught. Not even just a sibling, or a brother. But a twin.

She could barely breathe.

The numbness was growing deeper. It was spreading over any of the anger and sadness she was feeling. Desperate, Alice tried to hang onto the pain and the hurt, remind herself that she was a human, not just a dark, empty cavern.

"Alice? Are you okay?" Obviously she wasn't, but Olivia didn't have any other words to offer.

Slowly, Alice wrapped her cardigan around her shoulders and grabbed the bag, standing from the booth. Olivia stood too, arms outstretched.

"I need some space. I need air."

Olivia nodded. "Okay lemme just-"

"No. I need to be alone."

"Alice-"

"I can't breathe with you here, okay? Get out of my way."

Electrified, Olivia dropped her arms and allowed her cousin to pass. Cliff would say something similar whenever Olivia brought up a concern or nagged him. "I can't breathe when you take all the air with your words" is what he would say.

And with that, Alice fled from the diner, leaving Olivia to sit back down, asking for another glass of wine, as she wept silently and lightly into one hand.

Across the country, the other half of the Winchester-Mercer family's luck had turned sour. At first, the rabbit's foot had been a gift horse-mostly to Dean-but after calling Bobby, they found out exactly why the artifact had been locked away in a curse box. Whoever held the item had good luck. But if the item was lost, then their luck would twist into death.

"Can we please eat somewhere else? I'm so tired of burgers and fries," Cara begged as the family entered a Biggerson's for the second time that day.

Dean pulled an offended look. "I'm gonna pretend one of my offspring didn't just say that. And don't worry Sammy; Bobby will find a way to break the curse. Until then, I say we hit Vegas. Pull a little Rain Man. You could be Rain Man."

Sam didn't appreciate the suggestion, even if it was a joke. "Could we just lay low until Bobby calls back. Okay?" Sam turned to the Biggerson's host. "Hi, table for four please. Two kids' menus."

There was a red, strobing light accompanied by a siren that caused the whole family to jump. The host yelled accolades as balloons confetti hailed down from the ceiling, covering their shoulders and the tops of their heads.

"You are the one millionth guest of the Biggerson's Restaurant family!" The host yelled. He began to sing "He's a Jolly Good Fellow" while a waitress in a gaudy yellow and red outfit appeared out of nowhere and began to flash photo after photo of the family. Somewhere in the mix, an oversized check was shoved into the kid's hands, where they both looked a bit offended. Sam turned a bright red while Dean smiled widely.

The family was paraded to their table where the host informed them they would receive free meals for life-Cara wanted to throw up- and eventually, the lights returned to their normal color and the staff left them alone once the family ordered.

Sam pulled out of his laptop and began typing away while Dean was shoving his face with ice cream. "You know, Bobby's right. The lore goes way back. Pure Hoodoo. You can't just cut one off any rabbit. Has to be in a cemetery, under a full moon, on a Friday the thirteenth.

"I think from now on, we only go to places with Biggerson's."

"No," Cara moaned, glaring at the grilled cheese she ordered.

"Dad, can we focus on the case?" Noah asked. He never thought he would be sick of burgers and fries, but here he was, barely able to swallow them.

Eyes flicking to his son, Dean put down the spoon. "Sure. Yeah. Okay. Tell me again-"

"Can I freshen you up?" A waitress with black hair cut into a bob and blunt bangs smiled and held out a carafe of steaming coffee. She smiled and reached over Sam and pour some coffee into his mug, a bit spilling down the side.

A bit sheepish, but mostly coy, the waitress reached across Sam, wiping the booth beside him, then dabbing his lap twice. She left, throwing a little smile over her shoulder.

"Dude. If ever…" Dean commented.

Still a bit heady from the encounter, Sam nodded, trying to keep it covert in front of his niece and nephew, who seemed to be entirely disgusted by their Biggerson meals. "Shut up," Sam responded, pleased with himself. He reached for the handle of his coffee cup. His hand instead tipped the entire cup over, mostly onto him, as he and Noah evacuated the seat, brushing off any coffee that was on them.

Dean was halfway through his plate of bacon. "How was that good?"

"Not so good," Cara muttered, pushing the dish away.

In a hurry, the family ran out of the restaurant, Sam nearly knocking over Cara and Noah. He hit the ground, groaning.

"Wow! You suck," Dean commented, pulling his brother up.

"Shut up," Sam snapped back, playing off the entire encounter.

Dean looked at his brother. Where Sam had fallen, his knees were bloody and raw. "So bad luck I guess."

"Ew," Cara muttered, shuffling towards her father.

Bobby had fed the information about Bela Lugosi, a chameleon of an arms dealer, in the sense of supernatural paraphernalia.

It ended with Dean splitting off from the family, leaving Sam alone, as Cara and Noah spent a majority of the time sitting in the car. Dean didn't necessarily believe in the curse, but he wasn't about to willingly subject his kids to it.

So, as Dean tried to swindle the Bela woman, Noah sat in the front-as was his turn-and Cara was stretched out across the back.

It was the prime location to have a deep, meaningful conversation, but they were both tapped out of those. They knew the truth about dad. Mom was somewhere. It was left that they were on the same page and that was fine. When they both knew the same thing, silence was better than a depressing, placating speech.

The entire situation of the rabbit's foot was a bit moot for Cara and Noah. The rest of the adventure was relayed to the siblings and their dad and uncle climbed in and out of the car.

It was only when Sam and Dean were setting up the ritual to burn the foot that they needed help, including digging a bit of an indent in the ground, to lay the foot.

"Hmm. Of course," Cara muttered, breaking ground with her shovel. "It's like we're just here when you need us," she exclaimed.

"That's why I had kids," Dean grunted, throwing a shovel-full of dirt over his shoulder. "To help dig holes."

Cara scoffed, but kept digging, trying to ignore the sweat that was growing on her brow.

"That's not why," Sam said, as they all continued to dig.

"Just joking," Dean said.

"Sure yeah," Cara muttered to herself.

"You know, if you stopped talking, this would get done faster, Cara," Noah lobbed back at his sister.

Her back was turned to him, but she made sure that the next clump of dirt from her shovel was thrown directly at Noah's face.

He made a sound when the dirt hit his face, and then used the blade of his shovel to poke the back of her knees, causing Cara to pitch forward, nearly slamming into her shovel.

"Asshole!" Cara shouted, standing up, and throwing another clump of dirt at him.

"You started it!" Noah replied, using his shovel to dodge the dirt thrown at him.

"Alright, alright, enough!" Dean shouted, stepping in between the two of them. He wiped a hand over his face, and took a deep breath. "Is this what it's gonna be like when I'm gone?!" He didn't mean for the words to come out that aggressively, but he couldn't stop himself.

Immediately, both kids' shoulders slumped, and they quietly turned back to their tasks.

"Way to go," Sam muttered under his breath.

As Dean was about to comfort his kids, there was the sound of a gun clicking. Straightening up, Dean stepped in front of Noah, and then grabbed Cara by her arm, and shoved her partially behind him as well. Sam came and stood next to his brother.

Holding a gun to them was Bela. "I think you'll find that belongs to me. Or you know, whatever. Put the foot down, honey."

Dean scoffed at her weak threat. "No. You're not gonna shoot anybody. See, I happen to be able to read people. And okay, you're a thief, fine, but you're not-"

Interrupting his monologue, Bela turned, aimed at Sam's shoulder, and pulled the trigger.

Sam spun to the ground, Cara and Noah falling with him as the force of the bullet pushed them all back.

"You son of a-"

"Back off tiger, Back off. You make one more move, and I'll pull the trigger. You've got luck, Dean. You? I can't hit. But your brother? I can't miss."

Gritting his teeth, Dean kept his gun aimed on the woman, one eye glancing back at his family. "Sam, kids?"

"I'm fine," Noah responded.

"Yeah, fine," Cara huffed.

Sam groaned, his niece and nephew helping him up, one hand pressed to the bleeding wound on his shoulder.

Seeing the injury, Dean wanted to shoot the woman even more. "What the hell is wrong with you!? You can't go around shooting people like that! What are you thinking? There's kids here!"

She rolled her eyes. She saw how unbothered those kids seemed by being shot at. "Relax, it's a shoulder hit. I can aim. Besides, who here hasn't shot a few people? Put the rabbit's foot on the ground now."

"Alright, alright! Just take it easy!" Dean responded. He bent down to set the rabbit's foot on the ground, at the last minute, snapped up and tossed the foot at Bela.

Reflexively, Bela caught the foot, and then cursed. "Damn!"

Dean smirked. "Now, what do you say we destroy that ugly-ass piece of dead thing?"

"And you should apologize to my uncle!" Noah piped up.

Sam and Dean were sitting out back from the motel room. There was a sliding glass door that led to the rooms. They were each sitting in weathered adirondack chair, staring at the dense forest that butted up the motel. As usual, the two kids were asleep, exhausted from the hunt.

"How's your shoulder?" Dean asked.

Sam grimaced, as he took a swig of beer. "I'll live."

"I guess we're back to normal. No good luck, no bad luck. And down fifty grand, thanks to that crooked bitch," Dean muttered darkly. The only silver lining was the fifty thousand in scratch offs that Dean had won while he was in possession of the rabbit's foot. But their fortune had been stolen by Bela, as a "fee".

"The shit that happens to us," Sam commiserated.

"Seriously." Dean thought about the comment he'd made to the kids when they were in the graveyard.

Is this what it's gonna be like when I'm gone?!

"Sammy."

Sensing a shift in his brother's tone, Sam straightened up in his chair, setting the bottle down near his feet. He didn't say anything, but stared at his brother with that expectant, puppy dog face.

"Look man…I don't regret what I did. Not at all-don't get it twisted. But I have something to ask you."

Dean didn't have to even say; Sam immediately knew what he was talking about. "Anything."

"When I'm…when the show's over, I don't know how Alice is gonna be. She doesn't know, and who knows at that point if she'll even be okay." Dean had never ever worried about the fact his children were in good hands when they were with their mother. But after everything, he didn't even have that small comfort anymore. "Sammy, if Alice isn't ready or okay, promise me you'll look after them?"

Sam's face visibly changed at the request. The kids had been with them full-time and Sam had basically taken over their education. But the fact that Dean was asking him, entrusting Sam to care for the two if Alice was incapable…he felt incredibly honored and moved by the request. Part of Sam thought Dean would've asked Bobby over him.

Perceiving the change in Sam's expression as negative, Dean quickly tried to justify. "I know. I know it's a lot to ask. If it's too much-"

"No man, it's not," Sam cut him off, emotional. "It's not. It's the least I could do."

Dean frowned.

"Dean, you basically raised me. Ever since the fire, you were the only constant in my life."

Now it was Dean's turn to get emotional. He hated getting all weepy-eyed, and that's all it felt like he'd been doing lately, between Alice's breakdown, the demon taking Sam and Noah, the deal, and all the shit sprinkled in. With his impending curtain call, he at least had the security that his little brother was alive and Cara and Noah would have someone to look after them, if their mother wasn't up to task.

Dean cleared his throat gruffly. "Alright, bitch. Enough with the chick flick moment."

Settling back down into his seat, Sam let the bittersweet moment pass. "You started it, jerk."

She didn't really know where she was. She was walking somewhere. It didn't matter as long as she was moving. The ponytail came loose as Alice shook her head side to side, either trying to retrieve a memory that was never hers, or expel the previous conversation with her cousin.

Her hair was wild. For a desert, Alice didn't think there'd be a lot of wind, but in empty, unprotected areas, it cut across the land, like the weather made a business of turning sand to glass.

She stopped at the edge of town, looking across hot blackness. She was used to icy-cold-wintery-blackness. But not this kind.

Her body shivered, like a lizard slithering out of its skin.

It was a similar sensation to the icy, numbness that she felt when she was in the river.

But, it was the quiet. Nothing rustling in her ears.

It was the quiet, stillness she was always reaching for. To others, it might of seemed like she'd always had that, but every moment she was alone, she shivered, wishing for it.

Alice spent her entire life thinking she was meant to be alone, a single speck of a light, meant to quietly extinguish, a supernova in the deepest depths of the universe.

Unseen. Misunderstood. Those were things she had never let herself cognizantly resonant with, but her soul vibrated at those frequencies. It turns out, at conception, there was another soul that kept her company in the womb. And then, she was born, opening her eyes and breathing for the first time, without the comfort of that soul. Maybe that was why

In the river, she wasn't alone.

But now, she had found herself knelt in the sand. Her hands were surrounded by it. The sand wasn't particularly warm. But it was very forgiving. Alice's hand appeared in it. She could take it out, and the memory was gone.

Just like the other hand, this hand repeated the moment, grasping and releasing.

Alice continued it.

She was broken.

Lied to.

Deceived.

Family shattered.

Still.

She prayed.

Help me find him.

As she found her knees at the edge of the town, Alice cycled through lots of prayers. The last one she felt, alone in the desert, stars lingering ahead, was that her brother would be known.

Eli, I will find you.