Alison's Home

Palo Alto, California

As she pulled up to her home, Alison stared into the darkness. Since Paul died and Castiel disappeared, Alison felt so empty and going home was depressing. Alison often stayed on campus until late and even stayed with Jasmine. Lately, Alison had begun praying again, and as time went on, these prayers had become more fervent. Please, she prayed, bring Castiel back to me. Alison got out of the car, and walked slowly to the front door. As a prophet, she could sense angels and demons and Michael had even taught her to see angels or demons their true form. Alison froze as she put her key in the front door lock. Something was in her house. She could not tell if it was an angel or demon, but whatever it was, it was angry, very angry.

Suddenly, Alison felt tired. Sometimes, she just wanted the war to be over and her role in it to end. Opening the door, Alison went in to confront the darkness and closed the door behind her. Standing in the foyer, Alison paused, and then turned on the light. The warm fluorescent glow lit a path into the living room. Alison glanced around, but nothing appeared out of the ordinary and the anger she felt at the car was now gone. Opening the closet door, she put her coat and purse up, and then went into the living room to get a drink. Grabbing Jack Daniels and a tumbler, Alison went into the dining room and sat at the head of the table. Pouring her first drink, Alison downed in one gulp and then poured another. Despite her feeling that Castiel wasn't dead, Alison knew that she was not going to see Castiel on this night. It was her fault, she thought, if she hadn't gotten close to Castiel, then Michael would have spared him. Castiel, she thought as she felt tears begin to fall, was her protector, yet she caused his destruction. Alison put the tumbler down and buried her face in her arms. Alison felt alone. She knew that Michael was keeping her isolated for some greater purpose he had in mind. Now, that Lucifer was walking free, Michael had become even more obsessive about destroying his brother. Alison knew that meant he would use every means at his disposal, including Alison.

Behind her, Alison heard a small rustling noise as if wings were brushing against the walls. She sat up and allowed herself to get a sense of what had entered her house. It wasn't Michael. Breathing in, Alison could smell flowers. Feeling her heart leap in her chest, Alison got up and stumbled. Good God, she thought, I'm drunker than I want Castiel to see her in this state. Taking a deep breath, Alison walked into the living room with the first real smile she felt since Castiel left her.

"Cas," said Alison, "I've missed . . ."

Alison abruptly broke off. It was Michael. He had his back to her and was looking at the photos Alison had on her bookshelves. The picture in his hands was one of Alison and Castiel, having dinner at her house. Jasmine had taken the picture. Alison was lying in the crook of Castiel's arm. She was smiling and he was attempting to smile. Without warning, the frame of the picture burst into flames.

Alison stood frozen, and then her anger at Michael spilled over. He had taken everything from her; he had no right to try and destroy her last real memory of Castiel.

"Listen," she snapped, grabbing Michael's shoulder, "I told you that my house is off-limits." "What right do you have . . ."

The minute her hand touched Michael's shoulder, Alison felt Michael's intense anger at her. It was the same anger she felt in the driveway. Alison was shocked. As she looked into Michael's face, she could see how the years of obsessing about Lucifer had driven him to the edge of insanity. His true face looked even more drawn and quartered than it did in the lecture hall. Alison began moving backward out of the living room. By the look on his face, Alison knew what Michael's intentions were for her---death.

Alison ran from the living room and up the stairs to her office. It was Alison's secret place to escape from Michael as the entire room was covered in Enochian symbols. Slamming the door, Alison grabbed the rosary beads and put them to her lips. Please God, she thought, if you are still there, please save me from this. Outside the door, Alison could hear Michael's wings fluttering against the walls as his feet settled in front of the door. Alison could sense Michael's rage that she had created a room he could not enter. As Michael began plotting his way in, Alison tried to figure her way out. The room was small with only one window. However, thought Alison, it was a straight drop down and she was still wearing heels.

Suddenly, the door buckled inward as if it were taking a breath. Around her, there were cracks and pops as though fireworks were going off in the room. Confused, Alison began to edge toward the door. Then the room burst into flame. Alison grabbed the door handle and began to turn it. She could sense Michael in her mind, taunting her, telling her to open the door. Alison let go of the handle and ran to the window. She opened it and threw her shoes out. In her mind, she could hear Michael yelling at her to not move, but without allowing another thought into her head, Alison threw herself out of the window and landed hard on the cold ground below. At first, the fall had taken so much breath out of her that Alison couldn't move. Inside her head, she could hear Michael screaming in rage. Alison forced herself to get up and was grateful to find that she had not broken any bones. Looking around, Alison decided that an exit out of the back alley might be her best bet. Walking with a severe limp, Alison managed to climb over the fence and walk down the alley. Behind her, she could hear fire sirens in the distance. Alison continued to walk as her house burned. She found that she didn't care. That life that she no longer wanted, she thought, was burning to the ground. Alison kept walking. She needed to head to campus, she thought. There, Alison knew she convince William, the night custodian, to let her in her office where she kept a bag for emergencies. In it, Alison kept clothes, fake i.d.'s, an address book full of names and addresses of demon hunters, a cell phone, a laptop and enough cash to get her out of town. Her husband, Paul, was an ex-Marine and a demon hunter. He had always taught Alison the value of being prepared. Alison smiled at his memory and looked up at the sky. It was beautiful and it seemed to Alison as though every star was shining brightly just for her.

Department of Psychology

Stanford University

Alison closed her office door and slumped into her chair. Despite the pleadings of William that she should go to the hospital, Alison assured him that she was fine. Alison examined her leg, while she had not broken any bones, she had definitely sprained a tendon. Oh well, she thought, no time to deal with it now. Getting up, she opened her closet and grabbed her bag. Quickly changing, Alison sat down again and opened up the address book. Before meeting her, Alison's husband had been demon hunting for twenty years and knew every good demon hunter out there. Looking through the entries, Alison felt a lump rise in her throat. Most of the entries had red crosses through them, indicating that the hunter was dead. So many lives lost, thought Alison, and what for? Skimming through, she got to the S's and to the one entry that had not been crossed out: Bobby Singer. Grabbing her cell phone, Alison called the number praying that Bobby was still alive.

"Singer Salvage," came a gruff voice on the third ring, "this is Bobby."

Alison nearly started crying at the sound of his voice. For a moment, she couldn't speak.

"Hello?" asked Bobby.

"Bobby Singer," Alison began regaining control, "This is Alison Olsen, Paul Olsen's wife, I need your help."