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."

Okay, so I deleted some of this chapter because the Greek mythology stuff just wasn't working for me this time around, so I won't be using that storyline at all. The boys and Alyson are going to be taking a little break at Bobby's and then Sam and Dean are still going to be dealing with Folsom Prison Blues - I think - so we'll get to see what Alyson gets up to by herself for a little bit.