Part 5

Dean had just gotten out of the shower when the girl finally came to. "You okay?"

"Where am I?"

"Dirty motel at the edge of town. How about you go get cleaned up and then we have a chat about what you were doing in that house?" Dean handed her his clothes bag. "This is the clean bag, take what you need."

"Okay." She slid off the bed and took the bag. She glanced back at him more than once before disappearing into the tiny bathroom.

Dean made notes on the ghosts he'd seen. They were definitely from the 70s but that was still a lot of newspapers to go through. He flicked open his phone to find a dozen more phone calls. One after another. Then he scrolled through the list of times and discovered so many more.

He had his finger poised over the talk button when she emerged from the shower. His stomach fell to his feet as he jumped up and gripped her arms so that he could see her face; free from grime, tears, messy hair and makeup. "How did you know about the rock salt?"

"You told me." She whispered. "When I was four."

"Alice?" He stared at her, images of her dead friends flashed before his eyes. Then he crushed her against his body. "Oh my God, Alice." His heart would not stop pounding. "Holy shit, Alice. What the hell was going on in there?"

The tears streamed down her face. "It was stupid. We were… and then… and no one believed it and… I tried to remember and… I kept calling you and I figured if I called enough that you'd pick up but you never picked up." She lifted her face to meet his eyes. "You never picked up. How did you find me?"

Dean's stomach did another tilt and whirl. "It was an accident."

"You found me by accident?" She blinked at him. She sobbed suddenly. "They're all dead and I'm alive by accident?"

"We need a drink." Dean sat her on the bed and dug out his bottle and took a swig before pouring her a finger in a plastic cup from the bathroom. He watched her toss it back without a wince and blinked in surprise when she held it out for a second. "This is not your mom's sherry."

"I'm from Texas. Shot of courage has gotta be bigger to buck up what we already got." She took the bottle to pour herself a double.

"You drink a bottle before walking into that mess?" He settled himself on the end of the bed to take the bottle before she could pour herself another double. "No one sane goes into a house where a massacre happened exactly any number of years ago." Her head hung at his tone but he kept talking. "That was seriously a bonehead thing to do. Anniversaries are hardcore in the spirit world. It wasn't just a killer ghost, it was every single one of his pissed off victims. They are unavenged and angry and will kill anyone that walks in those doors."

"I didn't know." She whispered in such a small voice.

"You do your research. That's what keeps you alive. Know how many and how they died and where the bodies are buried." Dean poured himself another shot and took a deep breath. "You're lucky that I was looking into it already…"

"What's gonna happen now?"

"Tomorrow, I do some research. I find out where the bodies are buried and I salt and burn their bones. Then I leave town."

"Is this something you do a lot?" She sipped her whiskey. "I'm pretty sure I peed myself when I saw the first ghost. You… were armed and ready and you've never said what you do… is this… what you do?"

"You didn't talk to Sam?" Dean stood and ran his hands through his hair. "That was kind of the point of giving you his number."

"You always make your brother do your dirty work?"

"Don't you?"

She opened her mouth then shut it and grinned. "Well, I am the oldest." She finished her glass and poured herself another. "Actually, I did call him and he was evasive but we've had some conversations and I really like his wife."

"Yeah. Sarah's great."

"I have cousins, apparently." She nodded at him, eyes wide. She sniffed a bit and pursed her lips. It reminded him a bit of Sam.

"Sammy Too and Maddy." Dean smiled to himself. "Eight and five."

"Yeah." She took a breath. "So, I cover for awkwardness by being chatty."

"I cover with humor." He shrugged and turned to stare out the window. "All my jokes right now are pretty inappropriate, so I'm not making any."

"How could you do it, Dean?" She rose unsteadily from the bed. "How could you look me in the eye and not tell me who you were?"

"Because of what happened tonight. I do that a lot. I find haunted houses, I find who died and where the bodies are buried and I send them on their way. It means that I get picked up sometimes. It means that I'm constantly running from the law and I'm pretty sure that after tonight, the feds will come and say I killed all your friends… and when they find out who you are… I'll never be able to see you again because they'll put an agent on you to make sure they know when I make contact again."

"You can't tell them what you were really doing?"

Dean turned to face her. She was nearly 22 but she looked so young. "They didn't believe me the last time I tried. I nearly dragged Sammy down with me. It's better this way."

"Do you have a wife? Other kids?" She sat down again.

"Not to my knowledge but I suppose it could happen more than once." He grabbed the bottle and pulled long on it. "Get some rest, Alice. I'll stay up and do the research. Tomorrow night I'm sending those spirits to hell."

--

Dean spent an hour searching through local police logs from the 70s. Sometimes the internet was a blessing. Then he spent the next two hours watching his daughter sleep. His mind spun with trying to reconcile what almost happened to her with what was actually happening. The thought of her being in that house. If he had known that she was in there to begin with… The thought alone paralyzed him. He marveled at how his father had managed to fight evil so long with two boys to look after.

It was halfway into the third hour when her breathing changed. Dean knew all the signs of a nightmare by now. Gently, he shook her awake and quickly soothed her back to sleep. He dozed from the edge of the bed where he'd perched but he never got any real sleep. Dawn had colored the room with a myriad of hues by the time she had broken from her restless sleep.

Alice picked up her head and turned it to the body heat radiating from beside her. "Did you sleep?"

"Not really." Dean shook his head. He wanted some coffee but that would involve getting up and he was pretty content to sit right where he was.

"Is it gonna be a hard job?" She propped herself up on her elbows, forearms swimming in the sleeves of his shirt.

"Not really. Usually better with some help but nothing I can't handle."

"Then why didn't you sleep?" She frowned and slid back until she was kneeling on the bed. Then she realized that she had kind of taken over his bed.

"Not about the one bed, Alice." Dean managed a wry grin. "I've slept standing up, sitting down, on floors, on dirt, in the mud…" His grin faded. "There's something that happens when… a parent almost loses a child. I couldn't sleep if I tried."

"You don't even know me." She tried to protest.

"You've only known about me for a few years. I've known about you for a bit longer." He groaned as he got to his feet. His knee popped as he shifted his weight on to that leg. "I'm gonna go grab us some breakfast from down the street."

Dean could feel her eyes on him as he grabbed his jacket and the room key. When the door shut, he thought about climbing into the car and just taking off. But he just ran a finger along her sleek lines as he passed, making his way to the diner down the street for food. It was really just an excuse to be alone with his thoughts. To be somewhere away from that green-eyed gaze and all her questions. His mind was too full of the hunt and of memories and regrets.

The way she tilted her head at him, his mother popped into mind. It brought tears to his eyes as he was ordering two breakfast specials to go. Sam's kids were brunettes and looked more like Sarah. Alice was Mary Winchester all over again. He had to take a moment to collect himself outside the diner before he could walk again. Sam hadn't told Alice a thing. Had wanted to protect her the way Dean had tried to.

When Dean finally returned to the room, Alice was sitting at the little table, sipping coffee, her bare feet sticking out of his too-long sweats. One leg drawn up against her body and the other dangling. Her hair in her face, forehead creased as she read over his research. Without looking up, she held up a stack of envelopes. "Mind if I just take these instead of you wasting the 20 to mail?"

"Well, they are yours." He grunted as he deposited the boxes on top of the mess. "Eggs and sausage okay? Didn't know if you were on one of those diets or anything."

"I've got a good metabolism. Also from you, I guess. Mom… well…" She shrugged. "She used to tell me that I might as well not been hers at all… but only when she was mad."

"I'm sure I said this to you at some point but I just want to make it clear… Your mom and me… ships passing. Don't want you having any illusions about me."

"Okay. She said as much."

He nodded to himself as he sat to eat something to settle his stomach. He looked up in surprise when she poured a fresh cup of coffee and set it in front of him. "Um… thanks."

"You were kind of eying mine like you wanted to take it to bed."

He took a sip, then took another deep drink. "Well, I just might. You make a good cup."

"My… stepdad taught me how men like their coffee." She snorted and flushed. "Mom's idea of coffee is so weak that it looks like sewer water."

"Dad liked his fork to stand up in his coffee." He was secretly pleased when she laughed. He loved the way she looked when she laughed. Then all happiness was shot because he knew that he would break her heart before this hunt was over and that would about kill him. "After a while, he stopped calling it coffee. Cup of caffeine unless we were having coffee with Pastor Jim."

"Pastor Jim?" She picked at her breakfast, eyes still a little haunted by thoughts of the night before but genuinely interested in any stories he was willing to tell her face to face.

"He was a friend of the family. He… passed away just before Dad did." Dean shrugged her off.

"So… he made good coffee?"

"Good, simple coffee that you could drink black, enjoy and not feel like it was something too expensive to share. He was a man of the cloth and he didn't have extravagant taste. Just…"

"Good and simple."

"Right."

She began to eat with more interest and Dean realized just how long she'd been sitting in that house, hiding inside her salt circle. He could almost see her compartmentalizing the experience so she could deal with it without losing her mind. She was nervous and she said she got chatty when she was nervous. Talking around a mouthful of eggs and biscuit, she continued to demonstrate this little quirk of hers. "This is okay. Not as good as Nana's but you know… good. How do you know where to look for all this stuff?"

"A lifetime of experience."

"What is that? 20 years? 30 years?"

"40 years."

"But you're only…" She looked up at him, green eyes wide and suddenly putting the pieces together. "How did it happen?" She swallowed a mouthful. "If you were so young, I mean. How did you get started in this life?"

"How about we save that conversation for after I figure out how to salt and burn five graves at once?"

"How do I know that once you figure out how to do that… that you won't just take off? I know you won't pick up if I call you."

"Then call Sam."

"I don't want to hear it from him. I want to hear it from you." She stared at him, unflinching. "You're my father. The only way I want to hear it from him is if…" She choked on the end of the sentence. "So… I want to hear it from you. Okay?"

Dean nodded. He understood that better than she thought. All the stories that he never asked his Dad about because he never believed that his father could die. She had lived her whole life without knowing her own father's name and now she was sitting across from him and he was refusing to talk. "Listen. Let's just get through this hunt. I'm gonna have to run pretty fast afterward… but… I'll answer the questions."

"How are you going to do that if you're running away?"

"I gotta go get some information." Dean rose from the table. "Sit tight or don't. I don't care. Just don't go back to that house without me."

--

Dean spent an hour trying to find his way around the little nothing town because he felt sick to his stomach. Any moment would send his breakfast back up the way it came. He needed to be done with the hunt and on to the next before she trapped him. At sunset, he was in the graveyard with a list of names. He had his shotgun, salt shells and two bags of salt. He didn't remember when exactly she showed up but she had gloves and a second shovel. She didn't once suggest they split up and dig two graves at a time. She just helped him get them done faster, one at a time. They didn't talk.

The murderer's grave was done first before she got there. She didn't have to be exposed to the rage of a spirit about to be ended. Dean took his share of knocks. The other graves were a precaution. Sometimes they went away when the murderer was taken care of. Sometimes the victims were too far gone for it to matter. Dean wasn't taking that chance. They all had to go. He'd have to return eventually and do the same to her friends when the cases were closed and no one would connect him and hopefully before their spirits got restless enough to haunt anyone.

It was nearly dawn when they finished filling the last of the graves. Dean dropped his weary body into the driver's seat. Then waited as she tucked herself into the passenger seat. They didn't speak as the car took them through town and back to the motel. Dean let her shower first. He packed up his things. Secured his weapons. Saved his clothes for last so that he could shower. Alice sat on the bed and waited for him to speak. He couldn't find the words. Then he waited as she climbed into the car with him. "It's sixteen hundred miles between here and my brother. That's a two day drive."

"Long drive."

"If I take you with me, I'd probably make some conversation." He kept his eyes on the number on the hotel room door.

"I'm a good listener."

"People are going to be worried about you, especially once they find the bodies."

"They found them yesterday, while you were out. It was on the news." She informed him. "I went in and gave my statement. I didn't see anything because I hid."

"Well… ignorance is one way of lying." He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. His mind was too tired to think. No sleep in the last couple of days, bone-tired from all the digging, only one real meal in about a week. "People are going to be looking for you."

"I know. Cops already told me not to leave town."

"Then maybe you should really think about staying."

"I need to go with you."

"They were already talking about you kids when I pulled into town. I'll bet your parents are already on their way into town."

"Then we'd better get going."

"Dammit, Alice!"

"Dammit, Dean! I'm going! If you leave me behind, I'll follow you!"

"You don't have a car."

"Yes, I do… it's broken… though…" She clicked her teeth together. "I'll hitchhike."

"No! Never." Dean shook his head at her. "Never hitchhike, no matter what. Promise me that."

"Why should I?"

"Because, dammit, there are murderers out there. It's not just the spirits that are crazy. People are fucking nuts."

"So take me with you."

Dean turned on the engine but let it idle a while. "Here's what we're gonna do. You're going to make one phone call in one hour to your folks. Tell them what you want. Then we're tossing the phone out the window. When we make stops, you're going to follow my lead, don't contradict me and don't mouth off."

"Got it."

"Alice."

"I got it, Dean."

"You're gonna need supplies… right?"

"I can buy new clothes."

"Right."

"Well, I had this guy leave me a trust fund that had been and still is accruing mad interest and so… I got some funds to spare."

"You can thank that guy's brother for knowing how to set all that up."

"I will do that."

"Alright then." Dean put the car in gear and pulled out of the parking lot. He flipped the switch on the stereo and the car filled with drums and guitars. He noticed her wince but didn't adjust the volume. "One hour, Alice."

"I'll remember." She nodded and settled herself for the drive. They listened to something called Ozzy for an hour as he sped towards New York. Then he snapped off the radio. Alice made her phone call and handed the phone over. Dean looked it over, looked at her, then tossed it out his window to smash against the freeway. Half an hour later, he started talking.

TBC