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Goodbye Is Never Forever
Chapter Seventeen: Faith In Life Or Acceptance Of Death
Lawrence, Kansas — 12:04PM
For the first time in a very long time, maybe for the first time in his life, Dean Winchester wasn't happy to be home.
The sun shone brightly in the sky above, despite December being just around the corner. The air was icy, the trees had long since shed their leaves, yet he barely felt the cold breeze as it ripped at his jacket. There was no smile on his face as he headed up the short path to the front door of his home, and he found himself wishing it was just that little bit longer, that maybe he could buy himself a few more minutes before he got there. There was no feeling of excitement or joy in the fact he was about to see his family again, because he knew that one of them wasn't going to be there. He found himself dreading what was to come on the other side of the door. And that was something he never thought he would experience. He didn't know how he was supposed to feel, what he was supposed to do, what he was supposed to say, to any of them.
With a steady breath, hesitant, he opened the door, and his home somehow felt different. It was almost eerie, cold, gloomy, nothing like the welcoming, homey atmosphere he was so used to. The warmth seemed gone, it just felt as though something was missing. He dropped his bag to the floor, and the sound seemed to echo around the hallway.
"Dean." A deep voice said, somehow uncharacteristically worn. He almost hadn't recognized it. "You're home."
Dean wasn't sure how he did it, but he managed to face his father, and the face he saw was not one that he recognized. His dad looked exhausted, shattered, weary beyond anything he could imagine. There were dark circles beneath his bloodshot eyes, and his skin appeared almost grey in colour. Stubble covered his cheeks in his neglect of shaving, and, at a glance, Dean was sure he wouldn't have recognized him as the man who had raised him. The man that stood before him didn't look like his dad anymore. It was no secret that he had adored Alison, his only daughter, his whole universe. He was like him, Dean knew, he was asking himself why he hadn't protected her, he was blaming himself for whatever had happened to take the girl he should have saved from the world. His girl. His daughter. His baby. The weight of the loss glistened in his eyes, somehow duller than they usually were, and slumped his shoulders. But Dean tried to ignore that, as if dismissing it meant that he didn't have to face what was really going on around him.
"Hey, Dad." he answered simply, but he found his voice was little more than a whisper. Maybe he should have asked how he was, how his mother was, but he couldn't, because he was afraid of the answer he might get. He needed to know what had happened to his sister, that had been the only thought on his mind since he had found out that she was gone. He needed to know why he was home, and, more importantly, why she wasn't. "What happened, Dad?"
His dad sighed, heavy, as though he had been both expecting and dreading the question to come. "We don't know much, Dean." he said, remorseful. "She was shot."
"Shot?!" His eyes were wide, and it felt as though the air had been knocked right out of his chest. That wasn't an accident, and suddenly everything seemed to change. He was angry, confused, and, for the most part, he felt even worse. He had tried imagining the million things that could have happened to her on the way home. Maybe it had been a car crash, something horrible in the universe that had been out of anyone's control. Maybe he could have accepted that. But, being shot? That wasn't fate, that wasn't just her time. Someone had done that to her. It confirmed his darkest fears, someone had hurt his little sister, and where had he been to protect her? Why hadn't he been there? "Where?" he demanded, he needed to know more. "When? By who?" He paused, searching his father's face for some kind of answer. "Dad, what?"
His dad took another deep breath, and it was only then that Dean realized how truly haggard he looked. It was as though he was struggling to keep it together, and he didn't want to imagine how many people he'd had to tell. "Like I said, we don't know much." he told him, apologetic, and, in that moment, Dean knew he blamed himself. "She didn't come home one day, we called the police, few days later they found her body." He paused. "In Missouri."
Dean frowned. "Missouri?" He didn't understand. "Why was she in Missouri?"
His dad scoffed. "You tell me." he said, pulling a rough hand down his face. "She was supposed to be in Nebraska. Her friends came home, she didn't. Turns out, she'd never been with them in the first place. She never had. I don't know what she was doing there, I just..." he trailed off, shaking his head. "I just don't know, Dean."
Dean sighed, and, right there, he knew. His sister had broken the promise she had made to him, or, at least, the promise he had tried to make her give. Maybe he had been too quick in heading back. Maybe he should have stayed home, because he had known, deep down, he had known that she'd do it again. That was who she was, and he knew she didn't have it in her to ignore that job. There was so much more he could have done to stop her, but he'd been naive in trusting her to be okay, and he knew, a part of that had been more for his own piece of mind and sanity than anything else.
"Did she say anything to you?" His dad asked him, dragging him back from his thoughts.
The question took him by surprise. "What?"
"Alison." he confirmed. "Did she say anything to you? About anything?"
Dean regarded his question for a long moment. He thought about saying something, maybe it would help them to understand, maybe they would understand her more, maybe they could make sense of her actions in a way that he just couldn't, but where would he even start? He couldn't do that to them, or to her. Not now. He wasn't sure his father could take hearing something like that from him.
Reluctant, and against everything in him, Dean shook his head. "No." he lied. "Nothing I can think of." He glanced up at him, seeming far off in his own thoughts. "Where's mom?"
John nodded in the direction of the living room, and Dean turned towards it. He didn't know what to do, what to say, what to think, because he had never seen his mother look the way she did right there. He was almost knocked back a step, and he felt something break inside him. She looked wrecked. Broken, shattered, devastated. There weren't words for how she looked. She sat on the couch, her legs pulled up towards her chest, and she stared at the wall ahead, unseeing, never blinking. She still wore her pajamas and dressing gown, her hair was a mess, and her face was almost void, as though there was no one in there anymore. There was a photo frame clutched to her chest, and he just knew it was a picture of his sister that she clung to.
"Mom?" he said, his voice soft, so not to startle her.
It took a long moment for her to react, and he wasn't all that sure she had heard him. Her head turned the slightest bit, as if just to confirm that someone was there, and she glanced up to him. Somehow, he wasn't sure how she did it, she managed a small, shaky smile. "Dean."
He nodded. "How you doing, Mom?"
Mary shook her head slowly, and he saw the tears well up in her eyes. Slowly, apprehensive, he moved to sit beside her on the couch. "I just... I don't understand." she choked back a sob, turning from him. "I don't understand, what was she doing in Missouri?" She wiped a hand at her face, hiding any evidence that there had been tears. "This is my fault." she concluded, her voice harsh. It was a tone he didn't recognize. "I should have known. I should have realized she wasn't telling us the truth."
"Mom," Dean tried, helpless, he didn't know what to say, he didn't know how to comfort her. "This isn't your fault."
But she shook her head, she wouldn't accept that. "She's my daughter, Dean." she said, little more than a whisper. "I should have known there was something going on with her, I should have known from the minute she started going away for those weekends. Something changed in her. She never came back the same. And I never did anything about it." She sniffed, looking down at the picture she held. It was of Alison, taken somewhere he didn't even remember. She stood in the sun, smiling brightly, and he could have sworn that right there she looked like an angel. She looked so happy, so carefree, and Dean realized that was the look he had missed. He hadn't seen that look in her face once since she had started doing what she did. "What could have been so bad that she couldn't tell us what she was doing? Why would she lie to us?"
Dean opened and closed his mouth, struggling for words. He wasn't sure what he could say to her. He knew she deserved answers, she deserved to know the truth, if only so she could stop blaming herself for what had happened, but how could he tell her something without telling her everything? There was so much about it that even he didn't understand, and he knew he needed answers, ones that his family, that the police, just wouldn't be able to find. He knew his sister better than anyone, he needed to be the one to find them.
Unsure of what else he could do at that point, Dean leaned over and placed a kiss to his mother's cheek. The action seemed to take her by surprise, but she found a smile come to her face. She reached out for his hand and squeezed it softly. "I'm so glad you're home, Dean." she said, her voice sincere, and he truly did believe her.
He nodded. "Yeah, me, too." he agreed. "I, uh, I think I need to get some air."
"Yeah," Mary nodded, because she understood, and she gave his hand another reassuring squeeze, maybe to let him know that she was there, maybe to remind herself that he was there, Dean wasn't sure. "Okay, honey. Just, please don't go far. And be careful."
"Course."
12:48PM
Dean walked and he walked, just trying to make sense of the world around him. But, he found, nothing made sense anymore. He didn't know where to go, or what to do with himself, or who to call. His legs were simply moving in no direction, and he was simply following them. A part of him had almost pulled out his phone to call Alison, and that was when he realized, it hadn't even sunken into his head yet, he hadn't accepted it. And he wasn't sure that he could. He didn't want to, and he sure as hell wasn't prepared to. He wasn't ready for a world without her in it. He didn't think he ever could be.
As he walked, his eyes fell to a family crossing the street. There was a little girl, holding hands with her brother, the same way he and Alison had used to cross the street. They were young, no older than five or six, and he found himself wondering if they were twins. They knew no evil in the world, not like him and his sister had, they had their whole lives ahead of them, the way his sister should have had. He felt a pain in his chest at the thought, he was never going to know her, he was never going to see what she could have done with her life, where she would end up, who she would become. His dad was never going to see his only daughter get married, his mom was never going to see her have a daughter of her own, Sam was never going to see her smile again. How was any of that fair? How was he supposed to accept any of that? At what point did he sit down and say okay, this is what life will be from now on.
"Dean!" A voice called from somewhere behind him, pulling him back from his thoughts.
It took him a long moment to even react to his name being called, and he had to blink to realize where he was. He was sure that he didn't recognize the voice. He turned, curious, and noted the young girl walking towards him. Her blonde hair shone in the sun, and she was dressed so much like his sister it was almost scary. Chloe. Alison's best friend. The girl who had spoken to him that day outside of the diner, the one who confirmed his suspicions that his sister had been up to something. She was the whole reason he had followed her to Ohio. There was a soft frown on her face, and it was clear that she had been recently crying.
He offered her a smile. "Hey."
"I was just at your place." she said, and as she spoke he noticed the black mascara smudged beneath her eyes. "Your dad said you were on your way home. I'm so sorry, Dean."
Dean only nodded, because what more could he do? He wasn't ready for the bombardment of people apologizing for his loss, not when he was yet to accept it had even happened. "Thank you."
"I just can't believe it, you know?" She sighed, shaking her head. "Look, I hate to ask you this, but did you ever find out what was going on with her?" The question took him by surprise, and he wasn't sure how to answer it. "I had to tell them. Your mom asked, the police were involved, I couldn't lie to her, Dean, she was so upset... Did you ever find out where she was going?"
Dean opened and closed his mouth again, clueless. He couldn't tell her. That much he knew. He couldn't tell anyone. Because something had just dawned on him. Alison was lying, she was always lying. She was sneaking around. And just because something had happened in Missouri, that didn't mean she had really been killed. Maybe, just maybe, they were all missing something. Maybe there was something that none of them had picked up on yet, something that only Alison knew.
"Uh, you know what, I really need to get home." He took a step back from her, only one thought in his head. "I'm sorry."
And, with that, he turned and ran.
01:29PM
Dean paused outside of Alison's room. He wasn't sure why, there was just something that felt so wrong about the whole situation. She couldn't really be gone, not really, not Alison, he couldn't accept that. And, until he had proof, he wouldn't. Quietly, as though not to disturb the silence, Dean opened the door to her bedroom and stepped inside. It was clean, as though no one had ever lived there, and he frowned a little. He remembered what she had always used to say to him, no one likes to come home to a messy room, Dean. He sighed as he looked around, it all seemed so familiar, yet it felt like a lifetime since he had been in there.
He remembered when he and Alison had camped out in there to watch movies all night together, eating junk food and not realizing how late it was until their mother knocked on the door to wake her for school, and he found a smile on his face at the memory. There was a pain in his chest at just the idea of it all being over. He could almost see her sitting at the dresser and doing her make up, or sitting on her bed reading a book. It all felt surreal. How could something so horrific happen to someone like her? There were murderers and rapists and abusers living in that world, why did his little sister have to be the one to leave it so soon? What did she ever do to anyone?
His eyes fell to one of the photos sitting on her dresser, and he gave a soft sigh as he took a seat there. It was of him and her. He could barely remember where or when it had been taken, but they both looked so happy, so natural, laughing at a joke long forgotten, as though they didn't have a care in the world. It was before he had ever gone away, before she had known the true evil in the world, when they had both been just silly teenagers and the biggest worry they had was making it to Math class on time. Truthfully, he missed those days. He missed his sister. He missed his whole family. And he knew that they'd never be the same again.
He opened the top drawer of her dresser, not even sure what he was expecting to find, and pulled out a large book. For a second he was unsure of what it was, but then he realized, he remembered her opening it one morning on Christmas Day. It had been a gift from one of her friends. He opened the photo album, and smiled at the picture on the first page. It was of him and his brother and sister, standing in the kitchen of their home, all dressed for school. The picture looked so innocent, so calm, and, yet, the way he remembered it being taken was anything but that.
Seven years earlier
Mary glanced over her shoulder at her youngest son. He sat at the table eating his breakfast, his eyes flicking between the bowl of cereal in front of him and the book he had propped up behind it. Every now and again he would put down his spoon and replace it with a pen, scribbling things down in the notebook beside his orange juice. She smiled a little and glanced towards the clock on the wall. "Where are your brother and sister?" she asked him, conscious of the time.
Sam opened his mouth to answer her, but, before he could get a single word out, a loud crash came from the floor above. There was the distinct sound of shouting, fighting, and then loud footsteps as the two of them bombarded down the stairs, as if racing each other to the bottom. They came to an abrupt halt as they reached the kitchen, standing side by side as if already expecting their mother to tell them off.
Mary looked between them slowly, eyebrows raised. "What's going on?" She wasn't sure why she asked, she always regretted it.
"She takes forever in the bathroom, Mom." Dean complained.
"Dean, you have a mirror in your own room, why do you have to spend half an hour doing your hair in the bathroom one?" she retorted, matching his tone easily.
Dean scoffed. "Oh, I was not in there for half an hour."
"Uh, newsflash, you totally were."
Dean groaned, exasperated. "Why the hell does it even matter?" he argued. "You have a mirror in your own bedroom, too. You should know, you spend most of your time looking in it. Why can't you paint your face in that one?"
Alison forced a laugh, sarcastic. "Oh, real funny. Some people like to have a shower in the morning beside you, Dean."
"Yeah, well, some of us like to have a shower with hot water, which is why I go in before you do." he snapped. "At least you can have one without someone banging on the door like an impatient brat."
She rolled her eyes. "Well, maybe if you dragged your lazy ass out of bed a bit earlier it wouldn't be such a rush for you, would it?"
Dean opened his mouth, and she raised her eyebrows, as if to say she had him beat. "You're so annoying." he remarked.
Mary looked between them, holding back a smile. "That's enough." They both opened their mouths to argue, but she held up a hand before either had the chance to speak. "Both of you."
"The girl drives me insane." Dean muttered, in way of argument, but his mother only smiled.
"Oh, shut up." she complained. "For once in your life, Dean."
"It's a rare occasion I get a word in when you're around." he countered. "On and on and on and on."
Instead of response, Alison punched him in the arm, and he only shoved her back. "OW! Mom, would you tell that thug to stop punching me?" she whined.
Mary sighed. "Dean, please don't hit your sister." she said, automatic.
"Wha-" She smiled at him, smug, and his mouth fell open. "You are so dead."
"Hey." Their mother turned to them, warning. "What did I just say? One morning without you two fighting, is that too much to ask?"
Dean and Alison sighed. "Sorry, mom." they muttered.
Mary gave a short laugh, shaking her head at them. The second her back was turned, Dean elbowed her hard in the ribs, at the same time Alison punched him in the arm. "First day back at school, please, both of you, try and behave yourselves."
"We always behave ourselves." Dean commented, his face the picture of innocence.
A snicker came from the doorway behind them as their father walked into the kitchen. "Yeah, it's just the trouble that seems to follow the two of you, right?" he quipped, a knowing look on his face.
Dean nodded in agreement. "Exactly."
"We're the real victims here." Alison added.
Dean found himself smiling at the memory, but, as he lifted his hand to turn to the next page, something caught his eye, something in the top drawer of her dresser. He'd missed it before, but it was clear as day to him now. It was the journal he had seen in the woods, the one he hadn't wanted to open. Her diary. He wasn't sure why he did what he did, he didn't know if it was a sense of denial or just plain curiosity, but he opened the book with a frown, and he barely noticed how his hands were shaking as he did. As he expected, her handwriting filled every page. It was neat, as though she always took her time with it.
This was wrong, so wrong, he thought. But he needed to know more. He needed answers, closure, hope, anything.
So, I don't know exactly what I'm supposed to write in here. Mom thinks it's a good idea, I'm not so sure. Maybe she's right, maybe I have been a little down lately, but is that not normal? I miss my brother. Saying goodbye to Dean is the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life. It's hard to imagine a life where he isn't around every single day. Maybe I took him for granted while he was home, or maybe I just didn't realize how good of a brother, and friend, he was.
I lied to him, before he went, I told him I wasn't scared, that wasn't true. I am scared. I watch the news, I know what's going on over there, and I know where he is. Everything about what he's doing scares me. But, despite that, and no matter how much I'm going to miss him, or how hard it's going to be waiting on him to come home, I've never been prouder of anyone in my life before.
Dean blinked, hard. It felt wrong reading it, and, he knew, she'd be there to punch him in the back of the head should she know what he were doing, but he couldn't help himself. He needed to know more. He needed to understand her, the way he always thought he had. Alison had been so much more complicated than he had ever realized, it was like she had lived a double life, and he only saw the tip of the iceberg with it. He flipped a few pages and stopped again.
I know what I need to do. It makes sense now. Everything that happened last weekend makes sense. There are things out there in this world with us, evil things, and someone needs to take care of them. Someone needs to stop them. Dean saves people every day of his life. He risks everything to make a safer world for us to live in. Maybe this is how I can make a change, too. Maybe if I can show just a tiny bit of bravery, the way Dean shows every day of his life, I can save someone, I can make the world a better place, the same as he does.
And, I wish I could tell him. I wish I could tell mom and dad, or Sam. I hate sneaking around, I hate lying to them, but they wouldn't understand. How could I expect them to understand something like this? Something I still don't understand myself. They'd think I was insane, that I'd lost it, and I couldn't put them through that. For now, at least, it needs to stay a secret.
Dean thought for a moment. This was Alison's diary. She wasn't afraid of what she wrote in there. She didn't hold anything back, there were no secrets she wouldn't put in there. And that was when his heart skipped a beat. He flipped ahead to the end, to the last entry.
I know Dean wanted a promise from me that day he left. He wanted me to promise him that I wouldn't take another hunt while he was gone, and I understand why, but how am I supposed to ignore it when people are dying? How am I supposed to go to work and get coffee and see movies when I know there are people suffering out there? When I know I'm the only one who can stop it. There's a monster in Missouri, and I've pretended for long enough that it's not there, but more and more people are dying, there's no one stopping this thing. So I need to do it.
Dean frowned. "So, she did go to Missouri." he muttered. He closed the book and placed it back into her dresser. "Where are you, Ali?"
A horrible thought came to him. Her body had been found in Missouri, the body his mother had identified. What if it really had been Alison? Maybe it was all real. Maybe whatever she had gone up there to hunt had gotten a hold of her first. He shook his head slowly as he sat back in the chair. No. He couldn't start thinking like that. He refused to believe it. Because they had promised each other, goodbye wasn't forever. At least, he prayed that was still true. But, he had to admit it, it wasn't looking good for his sister. He had to move. He had to find her, he had to find out what happened to her, if she was alive, before it was too late.
He had to find the truth.
