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Goodbye Is Never Forever

Chapter Nine: Believing The Unbelievable

Wilmington, Ohio — Graveyard — 11:12PM.

Dean heaved a sigh through the cold air. How had it really come to this? They had been wandering around a grave yard for almost an hour, and he was starting to wish he had stepped in and stopped the whole thing before it had started. He should have dragged his sister kicking and screaming back to Kansas the second the word ghost had passed her lips, because, quite frankly, the whole thing was getting beyond ridiculous. He wasn't even sure she knew what she was looking for herself. He walked behind her, duffel bag full of guns and other things he didn't even want to mention slung over his shoulder, as he watched her shine the flash light over the many graves that surrounded them. He was nothing but uncomfortable.

Truth being told, it wasn't exactly the brother-sister time he'd had in mind when he had set off home. He watched her, shovel hung carelessly over her left shoulder, as she came to a stop, a relieved and satisfied smirk on her face. His eyes fell to the headstone, Dianne Winters. It was the grave of the woman from the news article. This was getting beyond insane. Alison had always been nothing but compassionate, and to see her looking down at a grave with such an accomplished smile seemed so out of character for her. It was like he barely knew the girl he was following around any more.

This was it. It was actually happening. She really was going to go through with it. And he couldn't believe it.

"You're really going to dig up a grave, Ali?" Dean asked her, and his tone was almost begging for her to finally admit that she had been screwing with him the entire time.

Alison pushed the shovel down into the ground and turned to him, eyebrows raised, she looked almost amused. "You really did think that this was all a joke, didn't you? You really thought I was trying to prank you. You were waiting for the point I'd give in and stop, weren't you?" Dean opened and closed his mouth, unsure what to say. She took a step closer to him and smirked. "You're about to see some proof." She handed him her shotgun and nodded. "When you see it, shoot it."

Dean took it with a frown. "And, what, exactly, am I looking out for?"

Alison chuckled. "Oh, you'll know it when you see it." she remarked. "Trust me."

Dean shook his head, he wasn't so convinced. "Whatever." he muttered. "Besides, don't you think I'd be better at digging the grave?"

Her eyebrows raised, as if to challenge him. "Oh yeah? And why would that be?"

"You know..." He shrugged, and he already wished he hadn't opened his mouth. "You're kinda tiny. Coffins are a long way down."

He saw her bite back a comment, and she nodded slowly. "I'll get by." she told him. "Just, keep watch, alright?"

Dean nodded. Honestly, he still wasn't all that sure what he was even supposed to be watching out for. Did she mean the ghost? Or people? It crossed his mind that, should they get caught, they could be buying themselves a ticket to a jail cell. How would he explain that one to their parents?

"Ali, I—" But then he saw it, and his words caught in his throat. A woman stood not far behind his sister, staring at him. Her face was pale, her eyes were dark, and she looked disturbingly similar to the woman Alison had showed him in the newspaper article. The woman wore a long, black, old fashioned dress, and he had a sinking feeling it was either the one she had died in or the one she had been buried in. It was like a scene from a horror movie. For a long moment, time seemed to stand still. He blinked, hard, but she remained. He wasn't seeing things, it wasn't a joke. "Holy shit." he muttered. "Alison."

"What?" she asked, uninterested, not bothering to look up from where she continued to shovel the dirt from the ground.

"Alison." he said again, refusing to tear his eyes away from the woman. "Seriously." he pushed. "Turn the hell around."

"What is it?" Alison turned to face him, but the expression he wore on his face was one that she didn't recognize. Slowly, she turned and followed his eyes over to whatever had him so transfixed behind her. And then she saw it, too. "Dean, shoot it." she told him, her voice, low, quiet. But he didn't react. "Dean!"

And it was at that, the sound of her raised voice, that the woman before them shrieked. It was high pitched, almost deafening, and she moved towards them at an unearthly speed. Inches away, he finally reacted, and he shot the woman right through the face. Alison looked back at him, alarmed, his eyes were wide and his face was pale. "What the fu—"

"Ghost, Dean." she said plainly. "Hate to say I told you so but, told you so."

Dean took a short breath, lowering the gun. Alison had been right all along. She hadn't been kidding. This really was what she had been doing. "Did I just...kill it?" he asked, and he looked beyond confused.

"No," She shook her head. "She'll be back, and probably pissed. Just, keep your eyes open, okay? And, when you see it, shoot it."

From there, they seemed to fall into a pattern. Alison focused on digging away the soil, while Dean watched her back with the shotgun. It almost seemed a little too easy. It didn't take her long to hit the coffin, honestly, he was a little impressed, and he had to wonder how many times she had done it before. As though it was nothing to her, she smashed the wood with the back of the shovel, and she cleared her throat at the quickly becoming familiar sight of a skeleton. Without a word, she climbed effortlessly from the grave and grabbed a shotgun from the duffel bag on the ground, standing side by side with her brother.

In that moment, even through everything that was happening around them, Alison couldn't help but notice, despite the fact it was the first hunt he had ever taken, how easily he seemed to fall into the routine. The two of them worked like a well practiced team. To anyone else it probably would appear as though they had been doing nothing but that for years, with the way that they communicated so well without ever having to open their mouths. They seemed to fall into such an easy and natural pattern, like it was all routine to them already.

"This is where it's gonna get fun." she quipped, the hint of a smirk tugging at her lips.

He watched curiously as she grabbed the salt and began to pour it down over the bones. She glanced back over her shoulder at the sound of a gunshot, just in time to see Dean shoot the pale, transparent form of the ghost away from her, before she turned her attention back to the grave. Once she was done, she tossed the empty salt container to the ground and turned just in time to see the ghost appear behind Dean. Before she could even process a thought, he was thrown somewhere into the darkness by an unseen force.

Her eyes frantically scanned between the graves for him, and for a minute nothing else even came into focus. "Dean?!" she yelled. But there was no answer, and that was how she knew something was wrong. "Dean?!"

There was only one thing she could do at that point. She grabbed the lighter fluid and began to pour it over the corpse. She felt a presence behind her, dark and cold, and she knew it wasn't her brother. Slowly, apprehensive, she turned, and found herself face to face with the ghost. There was a murderous look in the cold, dead eyes that stared back at her. But before she even had the chance to register her next move, barely even a second after she had turned around, the sound of another gunshot echoed through the night air and the woman dissipated in front of her.

Alison took a short breath and looked over to Dean. "Thanks for that." She narrowed her eyes at him, and through the dull light she could see the redness around his neck, as though something had tried to choke him. She frowned at him, as though contemplating something, and then she shook her head. "Ew." she commented. "Really, Dean?"

"What?" he asked, perplexed.

Alison gestured to his neck. "She went for you, not for me." She looked him up and down suspiciously. "Who'd you cheat on?"

"Does it matter?" Dean huffed, as though he couldn't believe what was coming out of her mouth, but she simply raised a brow at him. "Come on, Ali, I was in the ninth grade, it was one kiss." But she still appeared dubious, and he sighed. "Maybe more."

"You're disgusting." she told him, a hint of amusement playing on her face. "I hope you apologized to the poor girl."

"I've changed." he muttered, defensive. "I've grown."

"You're awful." she countered.

"I—" Dean stopped, and he raised the shotgun to shoot the ghost over her left shoulder, close enough that she felt the wind from the bullet brush her hair. "Is this really the time to have this argument?"

Alison opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get a word out, the ghost appeared again, relentless. She huffed, as though amused, and shrugged, nonchalant. "Guess not." She set off the matches and tossed them ahead to the open grave before her. She felt the heat against her as the body went up in flames, and the woman standing in front of them burned away into nothing. She and Dean stood there for a moment, eyes wide and unblinking. It was as though time dramatically slowed down in that moment, and all signs of chaos faded into nothing.

Dean moved towards her on instinct and grabbed her arm, pulling her back, away from the edge of the flaming grave. "Is it over?" he asked, almost tentative.

"Yeah," She nodded slowly, absent. "It's over." She sat down on the ground, saying nothing more, and gave a soft sigh.

Dean dropped down beside her with a groan, and he looked ahead at the flames before them. The heat burned hot against his face, and the brightness against the black around them burned his eyes, but he didn't turn away. Everything around him felt so surreal, and it was as though he was just waiting to wake up from some insane dream. Everything that had happened from the moment she had told him what she was really doing in town could all have been made up to him, and, yet, there he was.

A little over a week ago he had been in an entirely different world, dreaming about coming home to his normal, stable family, the place where everything was so safe, so secure. How wrong he had been. Where he was now, it was nothing he could ever have anticipated.

After a long moment, lost in his own thoughts, Dean tore his eyes away from the fire and glanced down at her. She was so concentrated on the light before her, as though it was the most interesting thing she had ever witnessed. Just moments ago she had been so full of life and adrenaline, and now he could see it all, he could see Alison, the sister he knew. He could see the compassion, the curiosity, the remorse, the sorrow, all dancing within the flames reflected in her green eyes.

"I was wrong about you." he commented, his voice was quiet, seeming far away, breaking through the silence.

Alison nodded slowly, never blinking. "That's okay." she murmured. "Most people are."

Dean shook his head. "I can't believe what you did tonight." he said, more to himself than to her. It was suddenly sinking it. That was what his sister did. She had done it before, and he didn't even want to imagine some of the sights she had probably seen. He looked back to her, and she seemed lost in her own world, as though there were a million and one thoughts just swarming her mind. "What's on your mind, kiddo?"

"Nothing. Just...thinking." she admitted, her voice was soft. "Those guys, you know, they might have been cheats, but...no one deserves to die like that. And, I mean, their wives are never gonna know why they were really killed. They're gonna live the rest of their lives thinking that their husbands committed suicide, wondering if there was anything they could have done to help them..." she trailed off, giving a deep sigh. "It's not fair."

"No, it's not." Dean agreed. "But, on the other side, you might have just saved another family from going through the same thing. I mean, seriously, Ali, you're small but you're mighty. I never give you enough credit for how good of a person you really are." He placed an arm around her shoulders and gave her a light squeeze. "My not so baby sister."

Alison smiled, and her head rested against his shoulder. "I'll always be your baby sister."

"You're damn right you will." He smirked at her.

"You did good, Dean." She reached up and ruffled his hair playfully. "I'm quite impressed. I half expected you to turn and run when you saw it."

Dean chuckled. "You know, as weird as this whole thing was, and, don't get me wrong, it was weird, even for us...I'm proud of you." He glanced back towards the open grave before them, still burning. "So, what happens now?"

Alison shrugged. "Nothing." she muttered. "We're done. We re-dig the grave and it's finished."

"Huh." Dean nodded slowly. "So, you know you have that fake police badge? Don't suppose you'd happen to have a fake ID to go with it?"

Alison shifted to face him, eyes narrowed. "What makes you ask that?"

Dean smirked. "Just curious."

He watched as she reached behind him and grabbed the duffel bag, opening one of the smaller side pockets. She dug around it for a moment before she pulled out a couple of cards. "Who do you want?" she asked. "Ashley Scott or Natalie Smith?"

Dean thought the question over for a moment, as though it really mattered, and smirked. "Natalie Smith." She handed him the fake drivers licence and he raised an eyebrow. "Hey, you think Natalie Scott of Portland, Ohio, who, according to this, is twenty-five years old, would go for a beer with me? I mean, you know, I'd ask you but, you're under age."

Alison laughed, really laughed. "I'm sure if you're buying she wouldn't have any reason to say no."

Dean held up his fist, and Alison bumped it with hers. "Plan."