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Hope you like this chapter!


Goodbye Is Never Forever

Chapter Twelve: The Camping Trip

Colorado — 10:01PM

The flames of the fire burned harshly into Dean's green eyes, red and golden and blazing against their dark background, and he could feel the heat of it against his face. The tiny sparks flew from it and danced in the dark night air, filled with the smell of smoke, flickering and falling until they dissipated into nothing. The sky above was a deep pink colour, and a deeper purple was slowly creeping in as the daylight slipped far away. Everything suddenly seemed so calm around him, so peaceful, in a way that he hadn't anticipated. The sound of birds had long since faded and the only thing left to listen to was the crackling of the wood as it burned away. The sun had fallen somewhere behind the clouds, and its warmth had gone with it. It's heat was replaced by a cooler, yet not unpleasant, breeze, and, as the light faded away, the trees above seemed to grow larger and deeper around them, as if closing them in.

Yet, in that moment, something struck him as strange. There was something so different between that moment and the last time he and his sister had been sitting like that. The last time they had sat beside each other and watched a fire burn before their eyes they had both been banged up, they had been shaken, and they had been watching the final remains of a body burn away into nothing. This time was so different. This time they sat there, side by side, leaning against a large, fallen down tree behind them, with a beer in one hand and a content smile on their faces. It was almost as though there was nothing but peace in those woods.

It was a comfortable silence, one that had gone on for a few minutes, and he couldn't quite remember what they had been talking about before. It didn't matter. He glanced down at the bottle in his left hand, noting that it was already half empty, and gave a thoughtful sigh. "Should we really be drinking with a monster wandering around the woods?" he asked, his voice calm, as though it had simply been said out of curiosity.

Alison shrugged, unconcerned, and she took a drink of her own beer as if to make a point. "Probably not." she said simply. "I'm assuming, given your career choice, you've got a pretty good aim?"

The question took him by surprise. His career choice was something that hadn't been mentioned since Ohio. After their last conversation about it, it was something that he never wanted to bring up with his sister again. Her words had stuck with him, when she had finally confessed to her fear, when she had spelled out to him how much of an impact it really did have on her, he had felt nothing but guilt. He had never thought much about it. And he certainly hadn't realized how hard she had taken him leaving. Telling her what had happened to him while he had been away had only seemed to spur her worry further, and it was a conversation he hadn't wanted to relive before he had to.

Dean chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "Not so great after six beers." he commented dryly.

Alison scoffed, nodding, something of an amused look on her face. "Awesome."

Dean huffed. "Alright, smart ass, who taught you to shoot, anyway?" he accused.

It was something that had pressed on his mind at the time of their last hunt, but, during the rush of the adrenaline, through all of the chaos and commotion, it was something that had been pushed to the back of his mind. He had never questioned her on it, yet a part of him knew that he should have done. Her aim had been perfect the first time he had seen her take a shot, and it had been clear that firing a gun wasn't something new to her. He wanted to know where she had learned to do it. Or, more specifically, who had taught her to do it.

"Me, actually." she told him, and he noted the pride in her own voice. "I practised."

Dean quirked a brow. "Bottles on a wall?" he mocked.

"Your face on a dartboard, actually." she countered.

Dean rolled his eyes, a knowing smile on his face. "Funny." he muttered, taking another drink of his beer. He shook his head, the whole thing was still so new to him, and he wasn't sure he had truly wrapped his head around what they were doing yet. It seemed so hard to imagine her wandering around the woods alone with a gun at night looking for monsters. He couldn't imagine her digging up a grave alone, talking to relatives of people who had died while pretending to be part of the law enforcement, taking tours of crime scenes, it just didn't seem real. It was like she lived a whole other life outside of the one he knew so well. The sister he had returned home to could have been a character from one of the million horror movies they had watched together. "I can't believe you do this alone. I mean, don't you get bored?"

Alison chuckled. "Well, I don't usually make a trip out of it." she stated, but he looked confused. "I mean, if you weren't with me I wouldn't be sat around a camp fire drinking beer and roasting marshmallows. When it's just me I don't stop to eat in a diner like we did, I don't stop to see the sights or wander around town." She looked down for a moment. "I don't do any of that when I'm on my own. When it's just me, it's just hunting."

Dean looked down at her, his brow furrowed. "So, what?" he pressed. "You breeze into town, kill the monster and then just leave?"

"Yeah," She nodded slowly, her eyes remaining fixed to the bottle in her hands. "Pretty much."

His eyebrows raised. "And, remind me, why, exactly, does that appeal to you?"

Alison looked up at him, giving a pointed shrug, as if to tell him she didn't know what he expected her to say. They had been over it and over it, she thought they were done having the same conversations. It was something she didn't like to answer should she have the choice. "Some people collect stamps, some people scrapbook, some people kill monsters." she said, her voice soft, calm. "What more do you want?"

Dean frowned at that. "So, you're saying this is all just a hobby?" he pushed, not completely sure he bought that from her. "That's some hobby, kid."

Her head tilted back, and she looked up at him. "There are worse ones."

Dean scoffed, dubious. "Name one." he challenged.

Alison regarded him for a moment, thinking over her answer carefully. "I could be taking cocaine right now. Think about that." He threw her a look, somewhere between amusement and disbelief. "I could spend all weekend drinking beer at college parties, pretending like I actually care about my education."

"Which, I'll remind you, is what you're supposed to be doing while you're taking these little trips." he cut in.

"I could sleep around." she stated bluntly, so bluntly that he was sure for a second he had heard her wrong. "I mean, wasn't that your hobby at my age?"

Dean opened and closed his mouth, seeming lost for words. His eyes narrowed at her, and the smile on her face told him that she knew she had won. "Good point. You stick with the monster hunting." He gave a laugh at just the thought of it, because it still sounded so strange to say it out loud. The thought of monsters being real still seemed so crazy to him, and yet, as he sat there, it seemed the most normal thing in the world. "I can't believe you're doing this."

"Hey." She held up a hand to stop him, defensive. "This was your idea. I was totally game for a movie and take out this weekend."

"Oh, well, forgive me for taking an interest in your hobbies." he retorted, sarcastic. "You know, a lot of brothers don't even talk to their sisters outside of the house."

Alison laughed at that. "Yeah, but a lot of brothers don't have me for a sister." she quipped. "You got lucky, dude."

"Yeah," Dean huffed. "If I'd gotten so lucky I don't think I'd have spent most of today wandering around the woods looking for a monster." he countered. "Do you?"

Alison thought on his words for a moment, seeming to contemplate them seriously, and he could almost see the thoughts circling in her mind. "So, you're saying, if you could choose between a nice, normal sister who you didn't talk to outside of the house and me, your badass monster hunting sister, you wouldn't pick me?" she challenged. "Yeah, right."

Dean laughed. "You know, most guys go out and have a beer with their friends at the weekend. Everyone I know, that's what's normal. The sisters take their gang of girlfriends and go to the mall, the brothers and their buddies go watch the game and have a beer." He glanced down at her and gave a soft smile. "And then there's us."

"Yeah," She nodded in agreement, a thoughtful frown on her face. It was true, that was the way it had always seemed to be, even through high school. They would cut classes together, they would hang out together after school, they would spend most of their weekends together, and it had been like that up until the day he had gone away. She had never really thought too much about it, but, looking back, they had spent more of their teenage years with each other than with anyone else. "I guess it's always kinda been that way, hasn't it? Hard to imagine us not being like that."

Dean smiled softly. He knew guys who barely spoke to their kid sisters outside of the holidays, who avoided them when they went home, who thought of them as nothing but interfering younger siblings. He knew girls who didn't get on with their brothers, who didn't talk much to them, he knew siblings who wouldn't even say hi should they walk past each other in the street. It was like a different world to what he had with his own siblings, and he couldn't imagine a day he saw Alison or Sam and didn't stop to talk to them. And then it seemed dawn on him, he hadn't spent so much time with his sister because she was his sister, they didn't hang out together because they were siblings, there was another reason he hadn't hesitated in following her up to Ohio, and there was a reason he had spent the day wandering around the woods looking for a monster with her. It had nothing to do with them being siblings.

"We could be that kind of family, you know." She looked up at him, confused. "The kind of brother and sister who don't talk to each other past breakfast." He shrugged. "But I picked an idiot for a best friend. Sister or not, there's no escaping that." He threw her a pointed look. "That's why I'm sat here."

Alison blinked, looking a little taken aback by the comment. "Wow. That's actually the sweetest thing you've ever said to me." He looked to her, eyebrows raised, an amused look on his face. "How fast are you drinking those beers?"

He shook his head slowly, not at all concerned. "I'm just saying, I think you're right. I think we got lucky."

She nodded, and a smile crossed her face, because she knew not every sister could look to their brother and find their best friend. "Yeah, we did."


Three Hours Later, 01:01AM.

Dean opened his eyes, a little groggy, at the sound of branches breaking somewhere in the distance. It was loud enough to pull him out of the slumber he couldn't even remember falling into. The fire before him had long since burned away into nothing more than a discoloured shape in the leaves, yet the smell of the smoke still seemed to linger. He glanced to his left and found his sister had also fallen asleep. Her head was rested against his arm, and she looked nothing but peaceful. Gently, he nudged her in the arm, stirring her. "Ali." he pressed, his voice remaining soft. "Wake up."

"Huh?" She shifted slightly, momentarily confused, and it took a second for her to remember where they were. She looked around slowly, eyes narrowed through the darkness. "Oh, fuck." she muttered, more to herself than to him.

Dean shifted slightly, stretching out the ache in his back, brought on by sitting where he had been for the past few hours, and raised his eyebrows slightly. "What's up?"

She gave a laugh, but she sounded anything but amused. "I think you were right about the beers, not a good idea."

But there was something more to her joke, and he could see it from a mile away. Something was wrong, and she was trying hard to ensure he didn't catch on. "What is it?" he pushed, a little uncomfortable, fast wondering whether he was supposed to be concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Hunting a Wendigo during the day? Bad idea." She scoffed. "Hunting one at night? No chance."

Dean regarded her for a moment, trying to work out the look on her face. "So, what are you saying?" he pressed. "Is this how we're gonna die?"

Alison shook her head slowly, and he could tell that she was at a loss. In that moment, she looked stumped, she didn't know what to do. "Time to move." she instructed, her voice was quiet, as if she was trying not to let someone else hear it. There was a new found determination behind her words, but, unbeknownst to her, he could hear the lack of confidence in her tone.

He watched curiously as she grabbed her bag, and she opened it quickly. She routed around in it for a short moment, and then pulled something out, holding it out to him expectantly. His eyebrows shot up. "And, what the hell is this?" he asked, almost accusing.

Alison smiled. "That, my dear brother, is a flare gun." she told him pointedly.

"And why, exactly, do I need a flare gun?" he pressed, curious. "What's wrong with a regular gun? Or your fancy rocksalt shotgun?"

"Because, bullets don't work on a Wendigo, and rocksalt would probably have it laughing in your face before it strings you up and eats you for dinner." she told him, somewhat smug. "We kill it with fire. Any more questions?"

Dean regarded her for a moment, a smile playing on his face. Whether he wanted to admit it to her or not, he found it all a little impressive. He took the gun from her, because who was he to argue? "Fair enough." he muttered, looking over the gun slowly. "Do I even wanna ask where you got these from?"

Alison opened her mouth to respond, but quickly closed it again. She shook her head at him. "Probably not, no. So, can we go?"

Dean held up his hand to stop her. "Just, level with me, Ali, do you actually have any idea what you're doing here?" Alison gave a half-hearted shrug, and he knew the smile on her face gave the answer away. His mouth twisted to a smile, and he shook his head. "You fill me with confidence, kiddo. You get us killed, you are so grounded for the rest of your life."

Alison chuckled. "You know dad would still blame you, right?"

He huffed a laugh. "Yeah, probably." he agreed. "You've got the man wrapped around your finger."

Before she could answer him, the sound of something brushing through the leaves somewhere behind them stopped them in their tracks. Dean looked at Alison, and Alison looked at Dean. Their eyes met for a moment, and he wasn't sure he could read her face. She appeared completely calm, as though nothing had happened. "Did you hear that?" he asked, suddenly alarmed.

Alison rolled her eyes at him. "Well, I'm standing right next to you, what do you think?" she countered.

"There's no need to be sarcastic." he muttered, looking around slowly. "What was it?"

Alison opened her mouth to answer, but something stopped her. There were sounds of branches snapping all around them, as though there was something circling them at an alarming speed. For all he knew, there probably was. He noticed his sister still seemed a lot less concerned about the whole thing than he was, as though she had done it all a million times before. But she had told him so herself, she had never hunted one of these things before. She had only read about them in books. Why wasn't she phased? She had no idea what to expect, she didn't know that what she had read was going to be true. And it was only now sinking in that, should what she thought she knew be wrong, there was a good chance that they were both going to die in those woods. It was only now that he was in the middle of it all that it seemed so real again. And he didn't know how his sister managed to do it all alone.

Alison was the girl who screamed at the top of her lungs for him if there was a tiny spider in the bathtub, she was the kind of girl who wouldn't walk three blocks alone at night, she was someone who jumped when someone sneaked up behind her, he couldn't understand where this new found confidence had come from. When had the little sister he had said goodbye to that day become the fearless, monster killing heroine that stood in front of him.

"Come on," she instructed, her voice low, as she flipped the safety off of the gun she held. "Let's keep going."

Dean sighed lightly and nodded, following her move and heading deeper into the woods with her. To what, he wasn't sure.

They hadn't taken more than a few steps further into the deep trees when they heard the sound again, this time louder, closer, and it stopped both of them in their tracks. They looked between each other, and Dean noticed that this time she did look a little less than calm. The was the sound of branches breaking behind them, although this time they sounded higher up, as though there was something between the leaves of the trees. Alison's eyes scanned the darkness slowly, narrowed, cautious, and he noticed how her face suddenly changed. They were in over their heads, and she knew it. He followed her eyes, but he saw nothing, and he frowned.

"Dean." she pressed, hesitant, almost a whisper.

He glanced back to her, concerned. And it was only then that he realized everything around them had fallen quiet, almost too quiet. "Yeah?"

"I think it's time to run." she stated, her voice low, calm, so not to disturb the heavy silence that now surrounded them.

Dean didn't need to be told twice. If she said run, they were running. And that was exactly what they did. Without a second thought, they bolted through the trees, never looking back. They ducked branches and jumped over the thick roots of the trees, trying to get anywhere but where they were. It was tense, and the only sound in their ears was the wind and the breeze of the leaves as they shot past them at high speed.

There was a loud thud behind him, and, in that split second, Dean was sure that she had fallen. He turned around instantly, and his heart began thumping rapidly against his chest. His stomach dropped, and a sense of panic washed through him. Alison wasn't there. His eyes darted swiftly between the dense trees that surrounded him, she had been there just a moment ago, so where the hell was she?

"Ali?!" he called, but nothing came in response, only silence. "Alison?!" he repeated. "If this is some kind of a joke, I'm not laughing!"

But even she wasn't that screwed up. It wasn't her style, and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew it wasn't a joke. He paused, ears strained, desperate to hear something, anything, to indicate where she was. His eyes fell to the ground, and to where her bag lay there, abandoned in the dirt, and he crouched down to pick it up. His eyes fell to something else, and that was when the panic truly washed through him. There were marks in the dirt, eight marks, as if someone had tried to clutch to the soil with their finger tips as they were dragged away into the darkness. He stood again, looking around one last time. There were tears in his eyes, a tightness in his chest, and his hands wrapped in his hair.

His sister was gone. And he didn't know how to find her.

"Alison?!"