Dean and Sam just stared at Bobby in disbelief, hoping the man who was like a second father to them, the man whom they trusted, was lying right to their faces. The look on Bobby's face—the same one that John had on his—said otherwise.
"You're not lying," Sam spoke up after a few moments.
"No," Dean replied firmly. "There's no way Allie's infected. No way."
Bobby looked at him incredulously. "You'd think I'd make up something like this about my own family?"
"Dean, it does make sense," Sam said. "You and I both know—"
"No, we don't know, Sam," Dean interrupted angrily. "Dad and Bobby kept Allie a secret from us for sixteen years; the only reason we even know about her is 'cause she happened to come across us after we got t-boned by one of Yellow Eyes' bitches. Then we try to find out more about her and why she was kept a secret, and we get fed nothing but half-truths and lies." He looked between his father and Bobby with anger. "I swear, if we don't start getting some real answers, I'm going to start throwing punches." He stared at Bobby. "If you're saying Allie got infected the night before her father died, how the hell did you miss the bite?"
"She didn't get bit," Bobby replied. "None of us did. It attacked us, tore at us, but I promise you none of us were bitten."
"Then how did it happen?" Sam asked.
"We don't know," Bobby replied, "but we think one of her wounds got infected with some saliva; the werewolf focused most of its attacks on her, and there was plenty of that stuff flung around."
"You said her tattoo stops something like that from happening," Dean said, "but now you're telling me it can be overridden with demonic werewolf spit?"
"The tattoo keeps her from being possessed, Dean," John replied. "She's still vulnerable to injuries, just like any of us."
"What happened next?" Sam pressed.
"She attacked me," Bobby replied. "Managed to defend myself long enough to stab her in the leg with the knife. She went down, but it was only after a shot of silver buckshot to the shoulder that she stayed down. The high amount of silver in her wasn't enough to kill her, but it was enough to cause her to change back. I moved her in here and tended her wounds before calling John. Told him what happened and to drop whatever he was doing and haul ass here."
"I arrived the next morning," John continued, "and we spent the entire time trying to figure out what to do."
"What do you mean 'do'?" Dean asked. "I mean, not to bring up an awkwardly sticky point here, Dad, but you always said there's only one way to deal with werewolves."
"As luck would have it," Bobby replied, "we managed to find a few things that said otherwise."
"Such as?" Sam asked.
Bobby looked between the brothers. "'This magic herb I give will fight her spells'," he recited. "'And Hermes showed me all its name and nature. Its root is black and its flower white as milk and the gods call it moly.'"
"You read The Odyssey?" Sam asked, confused.
Bobby nodded. "Book Ten," he said. Dean looked at him with a blank stare, and Bobby rolled his eyes. "Hermes gave Odysseus an herb that kept him from turning into an animal by Circe's magic."
"Okay, that's really reaching," Dean replied. "I mean, like, seriously reaching."
"Maybe, but we still reached," Bobby replied. "Narrowed it down to two possibilities: the snowdrop plant or Moly hippocriticum, better known as wild garlic. Thankfully, Allie had both in her collection, but we didn't have time to pick between them, so we swiped a little of each. I made a small glass orb with the two plants inside, then fashioned a brass ankh and bound them together as an amulet for her to wear."
"Wouldn't iron have been a better choice, considering?" Dean asked.
"Alicia's a witch, Dean," John replied. "We don't want to prevent her from using her abilities when she needs to. The brass worked well enough."
"So, it actually worked?" Dean asked.
"It keeps her from transforming," Bobby answered.
"But not enough to cure her?" Sam asked sadly.
"No," Bobby replied. "She still experiences everything else that comes with being infected. It's especially more powerful twenty-four hours before the night of the first full moon, which is why she comes back home every month right before the full moon, and stays in here during that time. It's for everyone's safety—hers included." The brothers didn't look too happy. "Look, boys, it's not an ideal situation, but it's worked. She hasn't changed or killed anyone else since that night."
"This is far from ideal," Dean interrupted harshly. "Look, I get it, but come on, Bobby, she's your family, and you're making her live like this?"
"You think I enjoy watching her suffer every month?" Bobby asked angrily. Dean opened his mouth, but Bobby stepped close to him. "You listen to me, boy. I wasn't going to put a bullet in her heart, but don't you dare think for one moment I wanted this for her either. She chose this, not me."
"Oh, yeah?" Dean asked. "And why would she do that?"
"She thinks it's what she deserves," Sam spoke up quietly, understanding. Dean looked over at his brother. "Look, we all know the demon's responsible for her parents' deaths, but she blames herself—and she thinks she deserves to be punished for it."
"And nothing's going to change until she's convinced otherwise," Bobby added.
"Nothing is going to change, regardless," Dean replied, frustrated. "Look, I'm all for getting her to stop her pity party, but it won't change the fact she's still going to be suffering with that damn infection for the rest of her life—whether she dies naturally or some hunter ganks her one day."
"Maybe not," Bobby replied. Sam and Dean looked confused. "If we can convince Allie what happened wasn't her fault, we might be able to convince her to let us try curing her."
"Wait, there's an actual werewolf cure?" Sam asked, surprised.
"We're not sure," John replied. "We found it in a very old, very obscure book. It's dangerous, and there's no guarantee it'll work, but it's the best thing we have."
"It also requires a willing victim," Bobby added, "and until Allie's in a willing state of mind, all we can do is keep her comfortable and sit around with our thumbs up our asses."
"What if Dean and I try to convince her?" Sam suggested. Everyone looked at him. "I know we haven't been around long, but when it was just the three of us today, that's probably the first time Alicia's felt normal. Maybe she just needs someone a little closer to her own age." Bobby and John eyed each other, unconvinced. "Look, just give us a chance."
"Probably gonna regret this," Bobby muttered after a few moments, "but what the hell." He rubbed a hand tiredly over his face and sighed. "Fine. You two see what you can do with her," he glanced over at the young woman unconscious, "in the morning. She's gonna be out until then."
"Is she going to be okay?" Sam asked.
"Yeah," Bobby replied. "That stuff I injected her with is a powerful sedative. It keeps her asleep so she's not spending the entire night in agony. Right now, she just needs to rest, so if you really want to do this, you'll have to stay down here, keep an eye on her. If her condition changes, we'll be in the living room." He nodded at John, and the two hunters headed for the entrance. Bobby stopped right at the door and turned around. "Oh, Dean, I would never in a million years ever ask this, nor do I really want to know the answer, but since we don't know much about Alicia's…condition and how it spreads, I need you to be a hundred percent perfectly honest with me: did you and Alicia have—"
Dean held up a hand, stopping Bobby from finishing his question. "For the love of both of our sanities, Bobby, please don't finish that question." He squirmed, shaking his head. "You got nothing to worry about: Allie's virtue is still intact." Bobby raised an eyebrow, and Dean sighed, annoyed. "Look, you can bring out a stack of Bibles if you want, but it's the truth. Nothing happened last night, I swear."
Bobby stared at the elder brother for a while. "Good," he finally spoke up, giving him a hard expression. "Keep it that way." He turned and left, muttering as he closed the door behind him. "Don't need Allie hooking up with some damn Winchester." Dean furrowed his eyebrows, insulted, and he glanced over at Sam, who appeared amused.
"So, I guess we wait, now," the younger brother replied as he walked over and sat at the desk chair.
Dean didn't look too thrilled, but he took the chair next to the bed. He sighed, clearly bored, before he looked around, habitually taking in every little detail of the cylindrical room. Besides the fold up bed Alicia lay on and the desk, there was a cot off to one side, along with another desk, a mirror, and a bookshelf. It also appeared to be well-stocked with supplies and hunting equipment, as well as a transistor radio. The young hunter glanced up and saw a large extraction vent in the roof, with a metal grill in the shape of a devil's trap. He raised his eyebrow, not sure whether to be worried or impressed.
"Dude," he said, looking at his brother, "gotta hand it to Bobby. He could teach the Boy Scouts a thing or two." They heard a small moan and looked over to see Alicia stir slightly under the blanket, but she didn't wake up. The brothers didn't say anything as they shifted in their chairs, getting as comfortable as they could while keeping a watchful vigil over the unconscious young woman.
Alicia felt her head splitting, like she was on the downside of a really bad hangover. She moaned softly and turned on her side—and found herself looking right at Bobby's chair. She was a little startled to see Dean there, staring right at her with a hard expression, his arms folded. She glanced over at Sam, who looked at her with a little more sympathy, and she knew what their presence meant.
"So, they finally told you," she said quietly.
"Oh, yeah," Dean replied, "the whole kit and kaboodle," he raised an eyebrow, "or, in your case, wolf." Alicia glanced at him briefly before tossing the blanket aside and shifting into a sitting position, wincing.
"You okay?" Sam asked, concerned.
"Yeah," Alicia replied. She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Go ahead, spit it out."
"What?" Dean asked harshly. "The fact that you're the werewolf who killed your dad or that you didn't think it was important enough to mention?"
"Dean," Sam chided his brother.
"I mean," Dean continued, "you already covered how much you hate yourself and you don't deserve to live the other night in your room, and I'm not really a fan of broken records, sweetheart."
"Dean," Sam said more forcefully.
"No, Sam," Dean replied harshly, looking at his brother. "She's a hunter, just like the rest of us. We all know this life isn't full of lollipops and rainbows coming out of a unicorn's ass. Bad things happen and people die, but you don't drown in self-pity. You suck it up, deal with it, and move on." He turned to Alicia, and was met with a slap on the cheek so hard he almost fell out of his chair. Stunned, he stared at Alicia as she stood up, her eyes daggers.
"You self-righteous son of a bitch!" she spat angrily as tears streamed down her face. "Go to hell!" She marched to the iron door and pulled the latch up before opening it and storming out.
"Dammit, she hits hard," Dean muttered as he stood up, gingerly rubbing his stinging cheek as he walked over to the mirror on the wall. He winced as he saw the area turning a bright red.
"Serves you right," Sam said, his expression a combination of incredulity and anger. "Dean, yesterday, you were ready to follow Yellow Eyes all the way to the gates of hell to kill it for what it's done to Alicia, but now you're telling her to just deal with it?"
"No," Dean answered too quickly. He saw Sam staring at him. "Maybe, I guess."
"Why would you tell her that?" Sam asked.
Dean sighed, turning around. "I don't know. We're hunters; this is how we deal with things. We don't talk them out."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "Not this, Dean. This level of guilt she has is something she's had for as long as she can remember. It's not guilt that easily goes away, believe me, I know."
"Then you talk to her," Dean retorted. "You two can rent Titanic, get some ice cream, tissues, paint each others' nails—"
"I think it would mean more if you were there, too," Sam interrupted.
"I'm not good at the talking thing, Sam," Dean protested. "When she was pouring her heart out last night, I just stood there like an idiot and didn't say anything."
"And speaking as someone who's been in a relationship," Sam replied, "that is exactly what she needed. Alicia's going to need convincing that she's not a monster, that what happened to her parents wasn't her fault and she doesn't have to continue punishing herself over it."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Like I said: you should be the one talking to her."
"I'm not the one she likes," Sam pointed out.
There was a flicker of something unrecognizable in Dean's eyes. "I'm not getting a mani-pedi," he replied after a few moments before marching off. Sam shook his head, smiling a little, before following.
(End of Chapter 7)