She's the kind of girl who'll smash herself down in the night.
She's the kind of girl who'll fracture her mind till it's light.
She'll break her own heart, and you know
That she'll break your heart too.
So darling, let go of her hand.
She's been skipping days, spilling her drinks in the sink
And you know, she's never coming home, never coming home again.
But when she opens her eyes,
Beyond the chipping paint through the windowpane,
lies her patron saint, broken and lame and absolutely insane
For learning that true love exists.
Patron Saint, Regina Spektor
Allison slept in Mary's room, holding her niece through the night. It was her routine to wake with the sun, but dawn was still hours away when her routine was broken. Allison's body covered itself in goosebumps while she was still dreaming. The hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stood up straight. A feeling woke her, chasing her dream away and flooding her with a pulse of adrenaline. Her eyes snapped open of their own accord, drinking the pre-dawn darkness into her pupils, which flared as wide as humanly possible.
Allison hadn't hunted in years, but the instincts imbued in her by a lifetime of training hadn't faded in all that time. She was being watched. Something was in the room with her, breathing soft and steady behind her. Fear gripped her. All she could think of was Mary. She had no weapons, but she was prepared to fight tooth and nail if need be to ward the thing in the room away from her baby.
Her heart pounded against her ribs, desperate, as if it thought it could escape. Its terrified beating marked the passage of seconds, precious time Allison was hyper aware that she was losing as she rolled over to catch a glimpse of the creature in the room with her. Blood pulsed in her ears, roaring loud enough to drown out the early birds singing outside and the muted breathing of the faceless other.
Allison saw Alice's face, pale and drawn in the darkness. She sat at the chair of Mary's desk, no more than a foot from Allison. She leaned forward in her seat, hands clasped between parted legs as she watched the scene with single-minded intensity reminiscent of an animal stalking its prey. Shock hit Allison first, then confusion. Finally, she breathed a sigh of relief, allowing tense muscles to unwind. She had been prepared to pounce, ready to defend or kill and now she found herself giddy in the aftermath of the savage moment of uncertainty that preceded battle.
Still, Allison's heart hammered and her blood itched and burned under her skin as sweat coated her back beneath her soft cotton night shirt. Rationality told her that she was safe, that Mary was safe. No threat loomed here, no enemy lurked, only a long lost sister and a paranoid streak that she would never be able to shake.
Paranoia and instinct told her something was still wrong. Allison couldn't put her finger on what, so she dismissed the feeling.
"Alice," she said softly, mustering a smile. "What are you doing?"
Alice's eyes flashed pale silver in the darkness. The sight sent a chill racing through Allison, a shiver ripping down her spine. So Alice's lost soul was still living in a shapeshifter like a hermit crab in a lobster's shell. The thought should have comforted her, but a terrifying, insidious suspicion planted itself in the recesses of her mind.
What if this isn't really my sister?
Something in Allison's expression must have betrayed her uneasiness.
"Creepy, I know," Alice admitted quietly. "I just wanted to see her."
Allison had no words. Something was wrong, she could feel it. She forced the foreboding away, told herself it was nothing. Just the lingering notes of an unremembered nightmare that still haunted her. It had to be. She had spent too long hoping for her sister's return to allow baseless paranoia to taint the occasion.
Still, worry nagged her, incessant and inescapable.
"Never ignore your gut. Any good hunter knows their gut is their best friend. The ones who don't know this are the ones who end up dead."
Grace Smith's words came to her as if from another reality. All those lessons, all that training, all those pearls of wisdom had been imparted so long ago that Allison could hardly believe she had been the one learning them. She felt like a stranger in her own memories after leaving them so long unvisited. Regardless of her neglect, the lesson stuck, lodged in Allison's subconscious mind like a splinter.
Alice of all people would understand caution in the face of uncertainty. Allison decided she would test the waters, disturb the pond and see if anything unpleasant rose to meet her.
"You've got plenty of time to see her," Allison said, now awake enough to control her expression. She would show nothing of her thoughts. She smiled at the thing that looked like her sister, the thing she hoped contained her sister. "How about we let her sleep a while longer? We can get some coffee. Catch up."
"Sure."
Alice's reply was easy, but her eyes lingered on Mary as Allison rose. She waited for Alice to follow her, unable to bring herself to leave her alone with Mary.
"You still take your coffee black?"
"Ew. No, I'm gonna need sugar and cream if you've got it," Alice said.
"Wow, look at you. Any other big changes I should know about?" Allison asked while she put a pot of coffee on.
"Maybe. Let's see."
"So, Dean still around somewhere, or do I need to help you dig a grave?" Allison joked.
"Dean's fine. He's still an asshole, but he's breathing."
"You two manage to find some common ground last night?" Allison asked suggestively. She remembered their yelling match lasting for nearly an hour before it died down. Afterwards, she'd still heard them talking late into the night, barely raising their voices.
"No."
"So what were you two talking about?"
"Nothing. A lot of nothing, but basically nothing."
"Wow."
"You don't have a problem with me being here, right?"
"Of course not. Well..."
As soon as the words left Allison's mouth, she realized they weren't entirely true. She thought very carefully about what she would say next while she fixed them two cups of coffee.
"Actually, I do worry about Mary. Alice, I... I'm happy you're here, don't get me wrong."
She passed Alice her mug and led her into the living room.
"But?" Alice prompted. She made herself comfortable on the love seat while she waited for her coffee to cool.
"Why now?"
"It's hard to explain. I guess I'm... lonely. It's been a long road. How long has it been anyway?"
"Seven years. To the day."
Allison spoke without thinking and immediately regretted it. Alice was probing for information, doing the same thing Allison should have been doing, only better. Allison knew she needed to focus. Her feelings were getting in the way.
Still, she reminded herself, seven years was a long time. Long enough for someone to change a lot, long enough for them to lose track of the years. Allison herself might have lost track if she didn't have a living calendar sleeping down the hall, marking the passage of each year and holding its place like tick lines carved in concrete.
Alice whistled a little.
"Well, that happened fast," she mused. "Guess it's true what they say about time, huh?"
"I guess so."
"So what, you knew the Smiths were watching us? You knew it wasn't safe to come around or even call? So what changed? Why are you here now, really? Because the Alice I knew would never admit to being lonely. She was too wrapped up in appearances, to worried about looking weak. Or have the years changed you so much, worn you down so much that you're willing to scrap your pride to get your family back?"
That was what Allison wanted to say. It was on the tip of her tongue, but she bit the fickle, foolish muscle and instead sipped her coffee. It was too hot and it singed her mouth, but she held her composure and forced it down while she kept her desire to make excuses for her sister in check. She needed to hear what Alice had to say, without leading her.
"She's old enough for school, isn't she?" Alice asked, gaze flying down the hall to burn a hole in the door to Mary's room. "Shouldn't she be getting up by now?"
"Lonely, huh?" Allison said instead. She wasn't ready to talk about Mary yet. "Tell me something about what you've been doing all this time with your lonely self, sis."
"You and Dean are both too hung up on the past," Alice sighed. It was a heavy, weary sigh edged with a hint of anger. The words that followed were snapped sharply, tersely. Alice tone bordered on snarling. "I have to go through this again, really? It wasn't bad enough that I had to sit here all last night telling Winchester nothing upon nothing, now I have to repeat that nothing to you?"
Alarm bells went off in Allison's head. Alice's reluctance could have been understandable given the right circumstances, maybe if their time apart was nothing short of a non-stop horror show. After seven years without so much as a word to her big sister, her animosity shook Allison. If it was too bad to talk about, wouldn't she at least say as much? Why was she lashing out so viciously with so little provocation? Even for Alice, it felt extreme.
Mary was Allison's world. She wanted her sister back, wanted them to become the family she'd been dreaming of for so long, but a mother's wants meant nothing.
"Well, you know what Grandma always said. Blood is thicker than water."
The words were a test, the first half of a longer phrase. It was code; a question that, if answered correctly, was meant to assure one sister that it was truly the other they were dealing with.
"But water can wash it away too," Alice replied easily. She narrowed her eyes. "Is that what this is about? You don't think I'm me?"
Somehow, Allison found herself disappointed to hear the answer. It did little to assure her. She still couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.
"Can't be too careful," Allison shrugged.
"I want to meet Mary. Properly."
"Not yet."
"Why not? Don't give me that crap about it being too sudden, me having been gone too long, needing to ease her into it."
"Let me guess, Dean already gave you all those reasons."
"Among others."
"They're good reasons, Alice. Look, I'm glad you want to see Mary. I'm sure she'll be happy to meet you, but I don't want her to get hurt."
"She's my daughter. I'm not going to hurt her."
"I know that's what you think, but I'm telling you, it's not as simple as-"
"I'm NOT. Going. To hurt her," Alice insisted, spitting the words like acid in Allison's direction.
"Alice, how long are you staying here?"
"What?"
"It's a simple question."
"I don't understand what-"
"You say you're not going to hurt Mary?"
It was Allison's turn to be vicious. She set her coffee down so she could emphasize her words with hand gestures.
"What do you think's gonna happen if you meet her, get her attached to you, then you roll out of town chasing some hunt?!" Allison demanded. "What happens when she doesn't see you for weeks at a time?! When she doesn't understand why you're out there instead of here with her?!"
"I love how you just assume I'm still hunting," Alice scoffed. "You think you know everything about me, don't you? It's been seven years, Allison! I've changed!"
"How?! How have you changed?! Tell me, Alice! Tell me so I can feel ok about letting you near my daughter!"
Alice flinched back like she'd been slapped.
"Your daughter?"
Allison had been too incensed to notice her own unconscious choice of words. Now, Alice smoldered before her eyes. She licked her lips, clicked her tongue, ground her teeth while she selected her next words.
"She's not your daughter, Allison!" she growled. "She's no relation of yours at all! She's mine! She's one of us. She belongs to us!"
"Us?! Who is us?!"
Alice drew a blank for a moment, then stammered to cover her mistake.
"A Smith. What, you just figured I'd be fine with you giving her Dean's last name?"
"Where's this sudden family pride coming from?! You wouldn't even go by the name Smith for years! Or wait, don't tell me- You changed, right?"
"Damn right I changed!"
Allison was taken aback by the force of her own anger. She found herself standing over Alice, finger waving emphatically, movements jerky and short. Rage swept through her like she'd never felt before in her life, freed from a deep, dark prison in a crevice of her heart she hadn't even known existed until now. Repressed resentment for her little sister overwhelmed her, exploding in her chest like a fiery geyser. Her words erupted like magma and ash from a volcano dormant so long it was overdue to awaken. She couldn't stop herself, couldn't moderate her tone, couldn't lower her voice as she shouted at Alice and her nerve.
"Well it's too little, too late! If you wanted a say in her name, you should have been there when we were naming her! You left her to die in a closet, Alice! You abandoned her! You abandoned me! You left us both and you never looked back, and NOW you want to come around talking about whose daughter she is?! Now you want a say in who she is?! Well screw you, Alice!"
Allison panted in the wake of her rant. Alice didn't react, didn't change her expression or move a muscle in the face of her sister's fury.
"You and Dean are really riding the same wavelength these days, huh?" Alice finally said while Allison caught her breath. "I'm just the villain in your little tale of domestic bliss, huh? And that's it. You're not gonna let me see Mary. You don't give a damn about me or her. All you and Dean care about is keeping your little fraud of a family together, putting on a nice face for the world. Screw me, right?"
Her words were mocking, sardonic. They carried little emotion apart from disdain.
Allison's heart pounded, pushing dread and regret out through every vein. Gloom settled over her, saturating every inch of her down to her very nerve endings.
"Alice-"
"No, I got it. I'm not welcome here."
Alice set her mug down beside Allison's and rose. She held Allison's gaze, searched her eyes for a long moment. Finally, she snorted in derision. Without another word, she turned and walked away from her sister, out of the house entirely.
Allison stood in the awful empty silence left in the wake of their brief, intense fight. One depressing, terrifying thought dominated her mind.
What if this is it? What if this is the last time I ever see her?
She considered going after Alice, but couldn't bring herself to do it. She hated the way their reunion had gone, but she couldn't bring herself to completely regret the outcome. By all appearances, Alice had come back for purely selfish reasons. Allison needed to protect Mary from those reasons, and she'd done that. She could hurt all day and all night, she could miss her little sister for the rest of her life. She couldn't bear to let Mary feel even an ounce of that pain.
Allison justified her actions and set her shoulders. She could live with any consequences of protecting Mary.
Protecting her daughter.
Dean left the house at three in the morning. He had nowhere to go, nothing to do, but he needed to get away from Alice. She refused to tell him where she'd been or what she'd been doing for the past seven years, refused to explain her sudden desire to meet Mary. All she gave were vague blanket statements and transparently self-interested appeals to his own emotion.
"Put yourself in my shoes, Dean. I made a mistake. Don't tell me you've never wished you could take something back. I was young, I was stupid. Please, can you just... stop holding it against me long enough for me to make amends? Please, Dean."
Dean found himself on the highway. The highway always called to him when he was upset, comforting with its familiarity, inviting with its endless possibilities. He knew he wouldn't go far, but he let himself fly down the dark, deserted freeway at well over a hundred miles an hour. He revved the engine and ran angrily for an hour before his rage simmered down and burned its course. He turned around and raced back as the sky lightened over him to the color of charcoal ash. Daybreak threatened, bringing with it the responsibilities of the day. Dean was calmer as he made his way to work, if no less conflicted.
Leave it to Alice to wreck his life.
In one fell swoop, everything was changed. One unannounced visit was all it took to turn his world on its head. He had no idea his reality was so fragile that it could be torn to shreds by one woman who refused to stay dead.
Dead. She was supposed to be dead, he remembered for the first time. His heart sank down into the soles of his feet as he realized Allison was right. Mary wasn't going to understand why he'd lied to her. Would she hate him now? Would she be able to forgive him? Could he explain it to her, was she old enough to understand that the truth was terrible, that reality hurt? All Dean wanted was to keep her happy for a while longer, keep her innocent for a few more years. He didn't want her to feel the way he did, didn't want her questioning her worth or second-guessing whether she was wanted. He didn't want her to bear the same curse he had all his life.
Maybe the family curse was incurable. Maybe it would always catch up to every Winchester, no matter how hard Dean tried to get in the way. Maybe it was like destiny, something he reviled so vehemently, actively revolted against every minute of his life, but somehow, never seemed able to shake. Like a stubborn, selfish lost soul, it seemed destiny always found its way back to him, usually at the worst possible time. Maybe after everything, Mary was doomed to the same fate as her father.
Dean pulled up outside the garage where he worked. The sun was just beginning to peek up over the horizon, slowly as if it knew what had happened in its absence and it feared the aftermath as Dean did. PC's Auto and Body wouldn't open for two more hours, but Dean couldn't bring himself to go back home. He didn't have the energy to fight with Alice any more, didn't have the courage to face Mary. Not yet, anyway.
Dean got his phone out and called his brother. It went to voicemail.
"Sam. Call me back when you get this. It's... it was a rough night. Wish you would have showed up yesterday. Might have... well, I guess it wouldn't have mattered. Mary misses you though."
Dean missed Sam too, but he couldn't bring himself to say it.
"Hope you're watching your back," he said instead. "Don't forget, call me."
Dean hung up and went through his contacts. He considered calling Bobby, but knew he wouldn't be up yet. Bobby Singer had his hands full anyway last Dean had heard. Anna Milton wanted to hunt demons, Bobby wanted his foster daughter to go to college. It was a mess that now filled Dean with dread. He had a savings account put aside for Mary's future tuition and he had never considered the possibility that she might not take that path. Now, with Alice's return, a pandora's box of ugly alternatives reared up to confront him and shatter his idyllic vision for his daughter's life.
He forced his mind off those problems, leaving his car and lock-picking his way into the garage. He disabled the alarm with the building code and crossed the floor to his current project. He considered the disassembled engine of an '87 mustang, seeking comfort and oblivion in the orderly puzzle that was his work.
For about an hour, it worked. Then a clatter at his back drew him back to the present. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention and goosebumps pricked up along his arms. He straightened, shivering as the temperature in the garage dropped unnaturally. Dread filled him and he reached for a tire iron. The signs of a loose spirit were unmistakable for those with the experience to read them.
He searched the garage, stalking slowly between cars as his heart pounded and he racked his brain trying to figure out what was going on. He'd been working here for two years now. He knew the buildings history, knew that it lacked the pedigree of a haunting site. He also knew, however, that he was completely alone and the air conditioner had been broken for nearly a month. There was no natural explanation for the sudden chill in the air.
Dean turned to make another sweep of the garage and found himself face to face with a flickering apparition. He raised the tire iron, but hesitated when he saw the state of the ghost standing before him. The boy was out of focus, appearing and disappearing rapidly. Dean knew enough about spirits to realize that this one was having a lot of trouble manifesting. It was weak, probably too weak to touch him, let alone harm him.
"She says... she says... she says..."
The ghost spoke in a whisper that reverberated through the garage. Its voice was faint and strained in a way that gave Dean a sense of immense distance. He'd seen this before. Whoever this ghost was, he wasn't here to hurt anyone. He was trying desperately to communicate.
"Hey, who says?" Dean asked. He put the tire iron down and got a little closer.
"She says... she says... don't..."
Dean gathered all his courage, fought instincts that screamed at him to run. Sane people ran away from ghosts. All humans knew on a deep, basic level that spirits were dangerous. Getting as close to one as Dean was now took the same bravery as putting your head in a lion's maw. Every fiber in Dean's body was screaming at him to run, every muscle tense, every breath sharp and coarse. Still, he pushed forward, leaning down to let the boy's ghost whisper in his ear.
"Don't trust the shapeshifter."
The words came with pristine, chilling clarity. Dean drew back in time to see the flickering apparition vanish, leaving only the ominous warning to prove it had ever been there to begin with.
Dean grit his jaw, ignoring the questions the spirit's message raised. He focused on what he knew.
There was only one shapeshifter the ghost could be talking about.
Mary was woken by a soft tap at her window. She got out of bed, hoping to see her cousin Mikey standing outside. Instead, she saw Dean.
Puzzled, she frowned at him as she opened the window.
"Daddy? What are you doing?" she asked.
"Hey, princess," Dean greeted her. He smiled warmly, but Mary's expression didn't change. Something was different about him that she couldn't put her finger on. At the same time, he felt familiar in a way that had nothing to do with his outward appearance.
"You're not my Daddy," Mary accused. "But I feel like I know you from somewhere."
The thing wearing her father's face laughed.
"You're a sharp kid," it observed. "Nothing gets by you, does it?"
Mary started to close the window.
"Wait, wait," the shapeshifter said, taking a step back from the window. "Don't go away, please? I just wanted to meet you."
"I don't talk to strangers," Mary recited dutifully.
"But I thought you said you knew me!"
"Well I don't think I do."
"But we're family."
Dean's face melted and twisted, contorting and changing before Mary's eyes. Alice stood before her, arms spread. Even her clothes had changed. Mary's mouth dropped as the shapeshifter's eyes flashed.
"Hey, you change like me!" Mary exclaimed, shock chased by excitement. "Just without all the mess!"
"That's because I'm your mother," Alice said with a smile. "This isn't how I wanted us to meet, but... things didn't go according to plan. I had to improvise."
"But wait... I thought you were dead?"
"I'm not. Who told you I was dead?"
"Daddy."
"Well honey, I hate to break it to you, but Daddy lied to you."
"But... why?"
"He's trying to keep us apart," Alice said, taking a step closer again. She crossed her arms on the sill and rested her chin on them. Her eyes flashed pale silver and stayed that way. Mary's eyes flickered, responding automatically to one of her own kind, but she closed them tight and scrunched her face up in concentration until they stopped.
"What are you doing?" Alice asked.
"I'm not supposed to make kitty eyes," Mary replied, opening her eyes and blinking rapidly.
"Why not? It's part of who you are," Alice pointed out.
"Yeah, but I want to go to school like Madison Sanders."
"I still don't get it."
"Well, Daddy and Allison said I could go to school when I can control my eyes and stop having accidents."
"Accidents?"
"Sometimes I look like other people. But I haven't had an accident all month! I'm getting really good at staying myself," Mary said proudly.
"Wow. That is... that's awful," Alice said, shaking her head. "You don't even know what you are, do you?"
"What do you mean?"
"What a sweetheart you are. You're like me, honey. You're not human."
"I don't understand."
"Well, your Auntie and Daddy are human. You and me... we're something else."
"What are we?"
"We're special."
"'Extra special'?" Mary sighed heavily.
"Do your Auntie and your Daddy say you're extra special?"
"Yeah, sometimes."
"Let me guess. Whenever you ask questions, that's what they tell you."
"Yeah."
"Figures. Mary, do you want to know the truth? Your Auntie and Daddy are wrong to try to make you control your eyes and your shape-changing. They're scared of you because you're not like them. They want to take away everything that makes you special and make you be just like them."
"That's ok," Mary shrugged. "I love Auntie Ally and Daddy. I want to be like them."
"Oh baby, that's the saddest thing I've ever heard," Alice tsked, shaking her head. "Wouldn't you like to just be yourself? Wouldn't it be great it you didn't have to worry about controlling yourself? Hiding what you are?"
"Well... I guess... but..."
Mary chewed her lip and tapped her foot, fingers intertwining and fiddling with one another in front of her. She swayed from side to side as she considered Alice's words, the lacey hem of her white night gown swinging around her knees.
"Look, don't think too hard about it," Alice said dismissively. "Hey, what kind of breakfast do you like?"
"Waffles," Mary replied.
"Me too! Waffles are my favorite! What kind of syrup do you like on yours?"
"Strawberry."
"Same here! See, you're just like your ol' mom after all," Alice grinned. "What do you say we get some waffles, we can talk some more? I'd love to hear all about you. I bet we have a lot in common."
"I'd like that. I have to ask Auntie Ally though."
"No, I already asked her," Alice lied. "She said it was ok."
"She did?"
"Well, of course! I am your mother, after all," Alice smiled.
Mary was't convinced. She crossed her arms over her chest and huffed.
"Maybe, but I wouldn't know my mother if she bit my keister," she said, serious as a heart attack.
"God you sound like your father," Alice sighed wearily. "Mary, I'm going to level with you. You seem like a smart kid, I bet you'll understand. Your Auntie Ally doesn't want to let me see you, ok? That's why you can't ask her for permission. But I'm not leaving before I get to know you. Please come out with me? Just for a little while. We'll be out and back before your Auntie and Daddy even know you're gone."
"No!" Mary said obstinately, taking a step back from the window. "You're going to kidnap me and chop me up in tiny little pieces and no one's ever going to see me again as long as I live!"
"Wow," Alice managed, momentarily rendered speechless by the graphic example. "Where in the world did you get a nasty idea like that?"
"Auntie and Daddy told me that's what happens to little girls who talk to strangers and take candy from them," Mary replied matter-of-factly.
"Well they're not wrong. But I'm your mother though! And look, no candy!" Alice protested.
Mary shook her head hard, unswayed. Alice considered her options and finally had an idea.
"Ok," she said. "I get it. But what if..."
She reached behind her and produced a handgun. Mary's eyes widened to the size of tennis balls when she saw the weapon.
"... I gave you this? Did your Daddy teach you how to use a gun yet? I bet he did."
"Yeah."
"Did he teach you how to be safe with it, or just how to shoot it?"
"I know how to be safe."
"Ok. So here's my pitch; you take this, we run out for waffles, and if I try to kidnap you, you pop a cap in me," Alice proposed with a sly smirk.
Mary chewed her nails. Her eyes moved back and forth between the hall door, the gun and Alice.
"Come on, Mary. What do you say?"
Dean's job was fifteen minutes from home. He made it back in four. He burst into the house to find Allison in the kitchen cooking.
"Dean," she greeted him, startled by his sudden appearance. "Where-"
"Where's Alice?" he demanded.
"Gone."
It was the last answer Dean expected. He did a double take.
"Wait, what?"
"Yeah, we, uh... we got into a fight. She left. I don't think she's coming back."
"You got into a fight with your precious little sister?" Dean scoffed.
"Shut up."
"No, I'm not-"
"You're being a dick and you know it."
"I'm not!"
"In your head, you're thinking dick thoughts. I can hear them."
"Seriously, Allison... I'm sorry you two got in a fight."
"Yeah, well... I guess she always had an abrasive personality."
"Not always."
"Now you're defending her? You gonna get on my case now?"
"Hell no. I'm glad she's gone, I just..."
Dean was sure that the ghost's message was about Alice. Even without the appearance of the foreboding apparition, Dean would have been relieved that Alice was, seemingly, out of their lives again. A very small part of him was sad to see her go. He still had more he wanted to say to her and he was disappointed at the thought that he might never get that chance now. Most of him was happy that her can of worms remained unopened for Mary. He grabbed that emotion and decided it would be the only one he kept. All the others went back in the box, shoved back into the dusty, derelict corner of his mind where he kept all his loose ends.
"How about you go get Mary up?" Allison sighed. "Waffles are almost ready."
"Yeah."
Dean took a deep breath, banishing his turbulent emotions and fixing his face into a bright smile before he opened Mary's door.
"Rise and shine, valentine. Guess what's for breakf-"
Dean froze when he saw her empty, unmade bed. His eyes scoured the room in a fraction of a second. No Mary. The open window drew his gaze, white curtains waving lazily in the gentle breeze, casually, unaware of the disaster that had befallen the family while they stood by.
"Mary?!"
Dean rushed to the window and stuck his head out. He looked in both directions, panic and dread filling him.
"Mary!"