Chapter 3

. 16 years ago

It was a slow night. Dean had been scouting out players for half an hour, but no one seemed to be in the gambling mood. Finally giving up, he walked up to the bar, ordered a beer and started to look around. If he couldn't get money, he could at least get lucky.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean softly swore under his breath, a smirk appearing on his face as he walked towards his target, sitting in the corner of the bar. He didn't know how he missed it, missed her. What he did know was that his night was about to get a hell of a lot better.

"If it isn't little Sandy Williams," Dean had a shit-eating grin on his face as he walked towards her table and paused in front of her, "Always late to the party Williams."

Sandra looked at Dean with the complete opposite expression. Her usually stoic face was pulled into a scowl as she registered what the hunter was saying.

"You got the werewolf."

"I got the werewolf," Dean reiterated, causing Sandra's frown to deepen. She'd driven for over 8 hours for this hunt.

"Don't be so mad Sandy, after all, the wolf is dead and it looks like both of us have some free time on our hands now." Dean's suggestion wasn't subtle at all. He made a show of looking at her from head to toe and wriggled his eyebrows playfully.

Sandra sighed. Dean was 5 years younger than her but they always seemed to have a good time. Both parties knew that it was just sex and that was the way she preferred it, but Dean had also just ruined her hunt and she was tempted to turn him down. Looking at him again though, she reconsidered. Angry sex was tempting too.

"Buy me a drink and we'll see." That was basically Sandy-talk for 'Yes, we can have sex but I'm not gonna make it easy for you, asshole' and Dean knew it.

All in all, it was a fun night. And morning. And afternoon. She left that evening and that was the last time he'd heard from her. After that, he thought about her from time to time but she never did like giving her number to other hunters. Then John disappeared, Jess dies and the world went to shit.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd thought about her. Until now.

Present

Dean was too lost in his memory to realise that Sam had been calling his name for a few minutes. Alison looked at Dean suspiciously. Dean's reaction to her mother's name confused her. As far as she knew, her mother didn't know the Winchesters. She had even warned Alison on several occasions about the dangers of mixing with the Winchesters. Sandra wasn't one to mince words, and she didn't have anything good to say about the infamous hunters. If she had known them, she surely would have told Alison. The woman had loved to brag.

"Sandy's dead?" he whispered softly.

So, needless to say she was completely blindsided with Dean's reaction. He almost sounded … sad, which was weird because her mother wasn't a person who usually invoked that emotion in people. Anger – yes, frustration – sure. But sadness? Because of her death?

"You knew my mother." It wasn't a question but Dean answered anyway.

"Yeah. We were … friends? Sort of." Dean swore softly under his breath, processing the new information.

Alison was quiet for a moment.

"Wait a minute. She didn't have a kid the last time I saw her. She was in town alone, on a case. She stayed with me for almost a day."

Sam's brain started working in over drive.

"How long ago was this?" he asked his brother.

"15? 16 years ago?"

Sam looked at Alison, jaw clenching just for a second.

"Alison? How old are you exactly?"

Shit, Alison thought. Well, it was fun while it lasted.

She entertained the idea of lying but discarded it immediately. Dean was now analysing her, looking for clues most likely. She sighed and reluctantly mumbled the answer.

"You're gonna have to be louder than that sweetheart."

"15, alright? I'm fifteen."

The reaction was almost immediate. Both of them were looking at her incredulously and swearing like sailors.

"Jesus kid! What the hell are you doing? Trying to get yourself killed?" Dean was almost yelling at her, berating her for hunting at such a young age, which she thought was a little hypocritical but go off, I guess.

In the middle of all the commotion, Alison suddenly realised that there was only one voice yelling. Sam was looking at her intensely, taking in every detail, a peculiar look on his face. Before she could ask him what the hell was wrong with him, he softly called out to Dean.

He was still yelling so Sam called out again.

"Dean!" Finally, Dean stopped, turning towards Sam. Before he could say anything, Sam started talking.

"How long ago did you say you last saw Sandra?" Sam had an urgency in his tone that confused the hell out of Alison. She couldn't figure out where he was going with this.

Dean paused at Sam's question.

"About 16 years, why?"

Sam just looked at his brother meaningfully, further confusing Alison. Apparently, Dean saw where Sam was going with this.

"Oh, hell no! Fuck. No! You're crazy." Dean scoffed.

Sam just glared at him. "So, you're saying you two didn't?"

"Of course, we did Sammy! But, I'm not an idiot! We used protection."

Protection?

"Woah, woah, woah! Rewind an-and freeze! Protection? You slept with my mother?" Alison's voice grew shriller towards the end of the sentence, making Dean wince and look away in embarrassment.

"That's gross. I did not need that image in my head!"

She started pacing the small room. Suddenly she came to a stop.

"Wait, why is this relevant anyway?"

Sam glanced at Dean again, who started shaking his head fervently.

"Dude, stop it. I don't know what is wrong with your brain, maybe you have a concussion but you need to quit this line of thinking right now. You're freaking me the fuck out," Dean snarled.

Realisation hit Alison like a tonne of bricks. What Sam was insinuating, why the timing was important.

"You think Dean is my father?!" It was her turn to look at Sam incredulously. She started laughing. She couldn't help it. The idea that Dean Winchester was her father was hilarious.

"You said you never knew your dad," Sam pointed out, ignoring her cackling.

"So? That doesn't automatically mean Dean is my father Sam, geez."

"You also said that he was a hunter," Sam was determined to at least get them to consider the possibility.

"There are a lot of hunters out there!" Alison was almost hyperventilating at this point. It was too much. Too soon.

"Sammy, shut up," Dean said firmly. This was not the time for this. Alison was clearly overwhelmed. Sam noticed and a flash of guilt crossed his eyes.

"Look, all I'm saying is that there is a very real possibility that you two are related. Tell me I'm wrong and I'll back off, alright? Tell me you don't see it," Sam said, softly this time. Dean looked at Alison. She did look like him, or maybe he was imagining things that weren't there. Maybe it was just a coincidence and he was investing himself into this for no reason, but he had to know. Now that there was a seed of doubt in his head, he wouldn't be satisfied until he got a real answer.

"Alison," Dean called her softly, "look kid, I'm not saying I'm your father. God knows I don't know how to be one. But I know that you see the coincidences piling up too. Why don't we figure this out and if Sammy is wrong, we can laugh in his face about all this. And if he isn't … well we'll deal with that too."

She didn't say anything for a long time, both brothers holding their breath.

"I don't care," she snaps, "I have survived without a family my whole life. I don't need a father. I don't want a father. Family is poison and I don't want any part of it. So, I couldn't care less about biology. I don't want to know."

She goes to storm out of the room, barely able to look at the hurt expression on their faces. Before she can reach the for the handle, Dean's voice booms through the room.

"Well I do. I need to know if I have a damn daughter who I failed. I need to figure this out or I'm gonna go crazy. So, here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna get a damn paternity test and put a lid in this argument until we do. But before all that, we're gonna come back to the fact that you've apparently been hunting alone for the past four years. Do you have any idea how fucking dangerous that is? Me and Sam, we've been doing this for years, but we still always take back-up! Because hunting alone is dangerous, and reckless, especially for someone who is new to the field. I'm not gonna berate you for your age, God knows I was younger than you when I first started. Its shitty but it happens. But even I was never dumb enough to hunt alone."

Alison was getting a whiplash from the change in the conversation. One minute they're demanding paternity tests, and the next they're yelling at her about her life choices.

"First of all, we aren't getting any tests done because one, I'm in the system and you're supposed to either be dead or are wanted by the FBI, and two, I don't want to! And you don't get to dictate how I live my life. You're barely an acquaintance, not even a friend. So back the fuck off."

She knew she was being harsh. But she needed them away from her, out of her life. They represented hope – hope for a safe haven, hope for a family, and she didn't want any part of it. It was better to be alone than set yourself up for more pain.

Dean was quickly losing his patience.

"Look, you have 2 options. You can either come with us and we can figure all this out, at your pace, or I can give Jody a call and she can arrange for you to live with her. She's already fostering 3 girls and she'd be happy to take you in. You won't be able to run away from there either, which is great."

She glared at him.

"I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to make us angry so that we abandon you. I know all the tricks in the book kiddo, you ain't fooling me that easily. I don't know if I'm actually your father but I'll be damned if I let you go off on your own again. You can either come with us or go to Jody. Choice is yours."

With that, Dean stormed off to search for a bar. It had been a long day and he needed a damn beer.