Thank you all for reading the last chapter, and a special massive thank you to those of you who reviewed!

Hope you enjoy this chapter!


Goodbye Is Never Forever

Chapter Seven: Relying on Trust

Wilmington, Ohio — Motel Room — 10:-01AM.

Dean gasped awake, sitting up in bed so fast that it made him dizzy. His eyes were wide, his breathing was heavy, and there was a thin sheen of sweat at his brow. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath, shaking his head to himself as he tried to, once again, push back the memories that had disturbed his dreams. It had become a regular thing for him lately, and he was reluctant to give it much thought anymore.

"Morning." A voice said simply, and it was only then that he remembered where he was. He wasn't at home. He looked up, apprehensive, to see Alison staring at him from across the room. She sat at the table, hair straighteners in one hand and a lock of wavy hair in the other, green eyes fixed to him. He could see from where he sat, she looked worried, shocked, confused. "Are you alright?"

Dean cleared his throat and pulled a hand roughly down his face, composing himself. "Yeah, yeah, I'm good." He nodded, forcing up a smile as he pushed himself from the bed. "So, ghost hunting, right? We still going with that story?" he asked, voice bright, enthusiastic.

Alison narrowed her eyes at him, noting his clear attempt at diverting the conversation away from what she had just witnessed, but she chose not to comment. She could tell, he already looked uncomfortable enough, he didn't need her to start throwing questions at him. She smiled at him, returning her attention to her hair, and nodded. "Yeah, we're still going with that story." she commented. "I got you coffee." she told him, gesturing to the cup on the table.

"Thanks." He moved to sit down on the chair beside her, simply watching her for a moment as she straightened the waves from her blonde hair. His eyes fell to the bag on her bed, and he raised a brow. "What's in the bag?" he questioned, because, at that point, he didn't know if he could anticipate anything she was going to do.

Alison smirked at him. "Take a look." she said, and her expression only made him curious. "While you were...dreaming...I did some shopping."

Dean pushed himself to stand and crossed the room, picking up the bag and looking inside. "You bought a suit?" he asked, perplexed. "Why do I need a suit to hunt a ghost, exactly?"

"You'll see." she said simply, and he could tell that she seemed to be enjoying herself.

It was only then that he really looked at her. "You look different." he commented. There was a thin layer of make up on her face, done so much different to what it usually was. Somehow it seemed there was more of it than usual, yet much more subtle. "You look...older. What are we doing?"

"We're gonna go speak to someone." she told him, but she didn't look away from the mirror in front of her.

"Someone?" he pressed. "Who?"

But Alison simply smiled at him again. "Go get ready." she told him. "I'll explain it on the way."

Dean narrowed his eyes at her, considering pressing for a better explanation, but he knew that there was no point. He sighed, reluctant, and snatched up the plastic bag from the bed, disappearing into the bathroom with it. He didn't have the first clue what they were doing, he wasn't all that sure that she did, either. The previous night he had been sure that she was simply screwing with him. He had contemplated during the night whether it was all one big joke, that his parents and brother were all in on it with her, that she was going to take him somewhere and they were all going to jump out of a closet wearing white bedsheets with holes cut out for eyes. But even they weren't that bad, were they? Ghost hunting? What did that even mean? Was she going to pull out a video camera and try to make her own version of Ghost Hunters? Surely his sister wasn't planning on that? She had always called those shows lame, and, as far as he had known, she had never believed in the paranormal before.

But, she had known the night before that she had been caught out in whatever she was up to. What incentive did she have to continue lying to him? What was the point? Was she going to try and make something up? Pretend that it was all an innocent road trip alone to check out some haunted house? That wasn't her style. Or, maybe she really did believe in what she was saying. That was the scariest thought. That his sister somehow believed that she was really there to hunt some kind of ghost down and kill it. He didn't believe in ghosts, he hadn't known that she did. He didn't expect that they were going to find one. A part of him knew that he should have hauled her back home the second the word ghost had slipped from her mouth, so why was he still there?

The largest part of Dean, the part with the sense, told him that she was playing a game with him. He didn't want to believe that, but it seemed the most logical explanation. It all made sense. The only part he couldn't understand was why had she avoided him for an entire week? Why had she refused to speak to him, to even be in the same room as him? Why would she work so hard on something if it really was some silly prank? He wanted to understand what was going on in her head, and so he had made the decision to go along with it. He was going to play the game with her, let her take him wherever she wanted. He was going to go along with it until she gave up, until she either realised that what she was saying was insane, or she caved and told him the real reason she was being so secretive.

Dean stepped out of the bathroom again, and he looked his sister up and down slowly. She wore some black trousers with a pale blue shirt tucked into them. Her hair was pinned up in a way he had never seen it done before. She looked almost like some kind of business woman. He had never seen her look like that before. Whatever this was, she was taking it seriously. She looked so grown up, so much older than she ever had before.

"Wow." she commented, and a smirk appeared on her face as she looked up at him. "Looking sharp, bro."

He rolled his eyes at her. "Would you please tell me what we're doing?"

Alison stepped forwards and raised an eyebrow, unfastening his tie before she began to redo it. Dean watched her with a frown, debating whether there was any point in asking her what the problem had been in the first place, but he remained silent. He knew it would be a losing battle. She finished and stepped back, and he gave an impressed sound at the sight. His sister could tie a tie better than him, who knew?

"Come on," she pressed, grabbing her jacket from the back of one of the chairs. "We gotta go."

Dean watched after her for a moment as she pulled open the door to the motel room, still a little perplexed, before a thought occurred to him. "Wait, what about breakfast?"

But Alison ignored him, and, with a hesitant sigh, he followed.


Fifteen minutes later

Alison said nothing as she pulled up the car. Dean looked around slowly, he couldn't say where they were, he had genuinely no idea. They were parked on a street somewhere, it looked pretty normal, quiet, there was nothing going on, at least, not that he could see. "You gonna tell me where we are, yet?" he pressed. "Or are you gonna leave me guessing all day?"

Alison turned down the music on the radio and smiled at him. "We're here to talk to her." she said, nodding over the road to where a woman was unlocking the front door of her house. "Her husband died a few days ago, freaky death."

Dean glanced over at her and raised an eyebrow. "Freaky, how?"

She shook her head. "Not important."

"Ali," Dean sighed, he was starting to wonder just how far she was planning on taking it. "If what you're saying is true, the woman just lost her husband, you can't go bothering her. Come on, let's just head home and we won't ever talk about it again, please?"

Alison shook her head again. "All part of the job, Dean." she told him simply as she pushed open the door of the car. "You coming, or not?"

Dean thought about it for a moment, what they were doing was insane, it was borderline creepy. He didn't like it at all. But he wasn't about to let her do whatever she was doing alone. Reluctantly, he nodded and climbed out of the car with her, straightening up his suit as he did. He followed her over the street and up the stairs to the house. He noticed, she seemed more than calm in what she was doing, it was like she had done it a million times before. With the amount of fake college trips she had made, he wouldn't be surprised if she had. She reached out and rang the doorbell, subconsciously brushing the stray pieces of hair from her face as she did.

The woman they had watched enter the house just moments ago opened the door and looked between them slowly, as though suspicious. "Can I help you?" she asked, looking more towards Dean than Alison, and he just didn't know what to say. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, silently begging her to save him.

"Mrs Taylor? Hi." Alison said sweetly, confident. She reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled something out, holding it up to the woman. "I'm agent Jones, this is my partner, agent Walker, we're with the state police, would you mind if we asked you a couple questions about your husband's death?"

The woman seemed to consider her words for a moment, looking between them once again, but stepped aside to allow them inside. "Sure." she said quietly. "Come in."

"Thank you."

Alison looked back at Dean and smiled before they followed the woman into her house. She walked them through to the living room and turned to face them, her eyes slightly narrowed, more towards her than him. "You look a little young." she commented.

Dean looked down to her and raised his eyebrows, as if to ask her how she planned to get herself out of this one, but her expression never faltered, she simply smiled at the woman again. "I get that a lot." She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out something that looked like a business card, so fast that he didn't get a chance to look at it. He had a feeling she had been expecting the comment from her. "If it would make you feel better to speak to my supervisor before answering any questions, please, go ahead."

The woman regarded her for a long moment, and then took the card, frowning. "Yeah, I think I'll do that."

They watched as she headed out of the room, reading the card as she did. "Uh, quick question, Ali, who's gonna answer the phone?" Dean asked her, his voice hushed to ensure he wouldn't be heard. "The cops?"

Alison scoffed, shaking her head slowly. "No, because that would be stupid." she stated simply. "There's a hunter, his name's Bobby Singer, he kinda watches everyone's backs, takes the calls when we get made for not being legit law enforcement."

"Bobby Singer?" Dean repeated, it was just getting better and better. "You're hanging out with old guys who condone faking feds now?"

She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think that he's old?"

Dean rolled his eyes at her, he wasn't in the mood to joke around with her. "Not the point." he muttered. "You know you can go to prison for this, right? You're breaking the law here. You're impersonating an officer."

"So are you." she countered.

"Whatever." he snapped. "This isn't looking good for you right now, kiddo. We need to go, now, before she comes back."

"Okay, one, stop panicking. Two, we aren't going anywhere. And, three, for the record, I'm not hanging out with anybody." she said, pausing to ensure that the woman was still on the phone. "I've never met the guy. I've spoke to him, once, to get some advice on a Rugaru. He's a nice guy."

Dean looked perplexed. "Advice on a what now?"

"Never mind." she muttered. "Let's just say that he's a friend of a friend who's doing us both a favour right now and leave it at that, okay?"

"No, not okay." Dean shook his head at her. "None of this is okay."

"I'm sorry about that." A voice came from behind them, and they both jumped a little, so engrossed in their own argument to even remember where they were for a moment. "It's just, I can't believe how young you look." she said, handing the card back to her.

Alison chuckled. "Yeah, like I said, I hear it a lot, I've got such a baby face. I'm actually twenty-five." Dean scoffed at that, quickly covering the sound with a cough, and forcing a smile. "Now," Alison continued, shooting him a glare. "Would you be able to tell us what happened to your husband?"

The woman nodded slowly, looking anywhere but them as she spoke. "I, uh, I came home from work, and he was..." She looked up at the light above them, shaking her head to herself. "Hanging there. From the light shade. He used the cord from the lamp, I mean, why?" Tears filled up in her eyes. "I just don't understand. My husband didn't kill himself."

Alison looked up at her, curious. "You seem very certain."

"Just the night before we were talking about having kids. He kissed me goodbye that morning and asked what was for dinner." She paused for a moment, composing herself. "Why would he do that if he was planning on killing himself? And his fingers..."

"His fingers?" Dean pressed, eyebrows raised, he didn't even realise he'd said it until it had come out. He wasn't even sure he wanted to hear anything more. What they were doing was wrong, so wrong.

"They were bloody, from his neck." she explained. "He was clawing at his neck as he died. Like he..."

"Like he changed his mind." Dean finished for her.

The woman nodded. "Or someone made his mind up for him." she added darkly.

Alison looked up at her sadly and nodded. "I'm very sorry for your loss, ma'am." she said, so sincere that Dean could've sworn right there she should have been an actress. "Thank you for your help, we'll see ourselves out."

Dean nodded at her, before turning and quickly following his sister out of the house. He pulled the door closed behind himself and headed down the steps to the road, he didn't know what to say. "It's official," he muttered, loosening his tie and undoing the top button of his shirt. "I don't even know who you are anymore."

She rolled her eyes and pulled open the door of the car, climbing inside. "I think you're over exaggerating."

"Well, I think you're under exaggerating." he retorted, but she didn't seem too concerned with what he thought.

"Come on," She started the car and pulled her seatbelt around herself, taking off down the road. "Let's grab some lunch."

"Grab some lunch?" Dean frowned at her. "After all of that you still feel like eating? What were we even doing there, Ali? What does his death have to do with any of this? I don't know if anyone's ever told you, kid, but pretending to be cops to bug grieving widows for info on a death is kinda messed up."

"You're not catching on fast, are you?" she asked, glancing between him and the road. "That woman was right. Her husband didn't kill himself."

"What do you mean he didn't kill himself?" he pushed, more than confused. "Did you hear anything that woman just told you?"

"I heard her." she confirmed. "But he didn't kill himself. It wasn't a suicide."

"Hanging from a lampshade, sounds like suicide to me, Ali." he told her bluntly. "Where are you going with this?"

Alison said nothing to him as she pulled the car into the parking lot of a diner. She reached past him to her bag and pulled out a file, taking out a couple of images. "Here," She handed him one, expectant. "Tell me what's wrong there."

Dean sighed and looked over it slowly. It was a photo taken in the living room where they had just been standing. There was a black electrical cord clearly wrapped around the lampshade, and the woman's husband hanging from it. "You mean, aside from the dead body?" he asked slowly. "Where did you even get this? Is is evidence?"

"Like I said, I got a lot done this morning before you woke up." she commented. "Look," She pointed to the photo. "The guy hung himself, right? There's no chair under him, nothing, how did he get up there? He has a lamp wrapped around his neck, but why is the bulb lit? Because it sure as hell ain't plugged in. Why does he have big claw marks in his neck, why was he trying to pull it off if he wanted to hang himself?"

Dean took a longer look at the photo, she was right. He never would have noticed any of that himself. He looked from the picture to her, and he could see, she was completely serious about everything she was saying. "You're not kidding around here, are you?" he asked, and it was suddenly sinking in that it clearly wasn't a joke to her.

"No, I'm not." she answered, genuine. "Look, last night, I know what I told you was a lot to take in, and I know it's hard to believe, trust me, I know, but this is real, Dean." Her eyes met his, and he could see it right there, she needed him to believe her. She was asking him to trust her, as if she thought there would ever be a time that he wouldn't. "Come on," she coaxed, returning the file to her bag. "Let's grab some food."

Dean nodded and climbed out of the car, heading over the parking lot with her in silence. He couldn't even begin to think of what to say, about anything. It was like his sister had an entire life that no one had ever known about. He understood now, it wasn't a joke, not to her. The lengths she had gone to in just the past hour was proof enough of that. Whether ghosts were real or not, he knew for a fact that his sister truly believed that there was one in town, and at what point was he supposed to turn around and tell her anything different? How long was he supposed to go along with it before he spoke up? She was talking to people who had lost their families, she was pretending to be a police officer, she had police files just tucked into her handbag as though it was nothing unusual to possess. How far was he supposed to let her go?

They ordered their food and sat down in a booth towards the back of the diner with their drinks. Dean looked over her slowly, for a short, terrifying moment, he was sure that he barely even recognised her. "How did you get into this?" he asked. "Because I'm pretty sure that when I left you would have laughed at the idea of a ghost."

Alison took a moment to consider her answer, and shrugged. "I met this guy—"

"Oh, there we go." Dean concluded, nodding to himself as though to say he should have worked that out for himself earlier. "So all of this is about trying to impress some punk ass kid? What did I tell you before I left? Huh? No boys."

"Are you going to listen to me or are you going to yell at me?" she asked him bluntly.

Dean held up his hands. "Sorry." he stated. "Go ahead."

"I went to some college weekend," She noticed him raise his eyebrows sceptically. "Legit this time." He still looked dubious. "Well, we went for the party, not for the college, but...anyway...that's beside the point."

He huffed a laugh. "Go on."

"While I was there, I don't know how to explain it, I got this feeling, something was wrong. I felt like someone was watching me, you know? I was at this party one night, there was something there."

"What was it?" Dean pressed, curious.

"Ghost. Haunting the campus." She shrugged, her eyes fixed to the glass on the table before her. "I thought I was gonna die. There was this one moment, I was so sure that was it for me. And then this guy, Dylan, he just showed up out of nowhere, waving this shotgun, and he saved my life. He told me it was a ghost, I didn't believe him, but, I ended up kinda helping him get rid of it. After that, I went home, I started looking into it, and I realised, there's so much more out there in the world than we know, Dean."

At that point, he really couldn't decide whether he believed her or not. "Like what?" he pushed. "Vampires? Are vampires real?"

"Yeah, actually." she confirmed.

"Werewolves?"

"Yeah."

Dean thought for a moment, and she could tell that he was trying to catch her out. "What about possession? You know like the exorcist? Head spinning, the whole nine?"

"Yes, Dean." She smiled a little. "Demons are real, too."

"Huh." He frowned as he thought harder, and he snapped his fingers. "Aliens."

Alison rolled her eyes at that. "Not as far as I know."

Dean huffed, and a part of him felt a little disappointed. But he brushed off the thought. "Alright, genius, so what happened to her husband? Is it a ghost?"

Alison nodded. "Sounds like it. Should be a pretty simple job."

"Simple?" He scoffed. "None of this is simple. Are you sure that you know how to deal with this?"

"Of course I do." She frowned. "I'm not an idiot, Dean."

"Hey, I'm not suggesting that you are." he stated. "I'm simply suggesting that it's not exactly common knowledge to know how to take out a ghost. Or a vampire. Or a werewolf. Or a demon. Or possibly an alien."

She found herself smiling at him, and nodded. "Seriously, trust me."

"I do trust you." he said, automatically. "That's why I'm sitting here and not hauling your ass back to Kansas. Not that I haven't thought about it. So, what do we do?"

"We find out who the ghost is. That's the not so fun part, the research." She looked away from him, knowing that he wasn't going to like the next part. "And then we dig up the grave."

Dean choked on his drink, spluttering unceremoniously over the table. "I'm sorry?" he choked. "We do what?"

"We dig up the body, and then we salt and burn the bones." she stated calmly, as though his reaction had never happened.

Dean composed himself, frowning at her. "Hence the rock salt and lighter fluid." he muttered. "Naturally."

Alison smiled. "So, are you in?"

Dean sat back in his seat and sighed. He couldn't believe what was going on, he couldn't believe anything she was saying, and he couldn't believe that he was actually going along with it, but he nodded, and a smile came to his face. He trusted her just enough to give her a chance to prove herself. "Of course I'm in."