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Goodbye Is Never Forever
Chapter Twenty-Two: Truth Comes Out
Missouri — Riverdale Hospital — 01:46 AM.
Three hours had passed by since they had arrived, and Sam and Dean still sat in silence, side by side on the uncomfortable plastic chairs the hospital's waiting room had to offer them. Dean's arms were folded tightly across his chest, partly to cover the blood, and his eyes were fixed to the floor as he waited for something, anything. At that point, they weren't even sure that she was going to make it. But he wouldn't think about that. Sam's elbows rested against his knees, and his head rested against the palms of his hands as he tried to think through everything that had happened that day. His brother had decapitate four people. He had seen his sister clutching to life with every ounce of strength left in her. He had seen that motel room, her research there, all checked in under a false name. It was like he didn't even know the girl he was waiting on to wake up anymore. Or, for that matter, the man who sat beside him. Dean knew so much more than he had let on. He had known all along that she had been alive, that she had been fighting monsters, that she had been lying. Why hadn't he said something? Why hadn't he done anything to stop her? He didn't understand.
"She said she was sorry." he said quietly, as if expecting some kind of an explanation to follow the statement.
But Dean said nothing. He glanced up at him with a frown, clearly confused. The look on Sam's face told him he'd been thinking over it for a long time before he'd said anything, but he didn't catch on. "What?"
Sam looked up to face him, and Dean saw the accusation in his face. "She said that she should have listened to you." His eyes narrowed slightly. "How long have you known about all of this?"
Dean scoffed. "What, that my kid sister hunts monsters?" He shook his head, it still didn't seem real, and it was a conversation that he never expected to have with anyone but Alison. Somehow, talking about it with someone else felt like some kind of betrayal. It was her secret to tell, her world, not his, but this was Sam. He couldn't sit there and lie to him. And, suddenly, he understood why she had tried so hard not to tell him. He had forced a confession out of her, and it wasn't until then, until he had been asked to explain it the way she had, that he understood how hard it had been for her to tell him, and how much she must have really trusted him to be able to share it. After everything, that hurt. "Since the last time I came home. I followed her up to Ohio, she was hunting some ghost there. I tagged along." He shrugged. "I didn't believe it was real, not until...well... let's just say it's real. She wasn't kidding around. Our sister is freaking badass, Sammy, some of the things she's done—"
"How could you let her do that?" he pushed, frowning, confused, hurt. "Alone."
Dean shrugged again. "It was stupid." he admitted. "I know it was. I should have told mom and dad the minute I found out. But, what would they have said to that? Huh? How are you supposed to sit your parents down and tell them that their kid hunts monsters? That doesn't sound crazy at all."
"Our sister could have died tonight, Dean." he snapped. "Hell, she might."
"Don't start talking like that, Sam." he said, rough. He wouldn't listen to that. "She is not going to die. Alison's a tough kid, she's gonna be fine. She's always fine." It sounded more like he was trying to convince himself.
"Dean, you saw the state of her." Sam continued. "Why the hell didn't you say something?"
"Look, Sam, I know you're pissed at me, you've got every right, but don't do this here." he warned him. "Not now."
Sam opened his mouth to say something, but he seemed to think twice about it. Dean was right. It wasn't the time or the place to get into an argument, about anything, and so they fell back into the silence that had consumed them before.
The guilt spiralled around Dean's mind, and he couldn't shake the feeling that, had he said something earlier, had he made more of a move to stop her, they might not be sitting where they were now. Maybe if he had told their parents things might have turned out differently. Sure, Alison would be pissed as hell at him, but at least she would be alive. He wouldn't allow those thoughts to enter his mind, he wouldn't think about what might happen to her, he couldn't, it would destroy him, and he wouldn't be able to sit there and wait thinking that she wasn't going to make it. Hope was all he had to go on, and, after everything they had been through to get her there, he wasn't about to give up on it now.
He looked up, uninterested, as the double doors beside the reception desk barged open. But his eyes widened as he watched his mother run through them, her eyes were wide with panic, she looked frantic, and even from there he could see the desperation. Her eyes were red, bloodshot, and there were deep circles beneath them. His father was right behind her, the same look of alarm present on his face, in his stance. Her eyes scanned the waiting room, and they immediately found his as he rose from his seat.
Mary all but stormed towards her eldest child, never blinking, as if for fear that he might vanish should she do so. "Where is she?"
"Mom—"
"Where is my daughter, Dean?" she demanded. "I want to see her."
Dean's face softened. "You can't, mom. I'm sorry." He sighed, remorseful. "They won't let us in."
Mary's face fell, and her eyes searched his for some kind of comfort, some kind of an explanation. "Is she even alive?"
"Yeah, she's alive." he assured. "I spoke to her, she's alive. Mom, she's still here."
Mary choked a sob, and he caught her around the arms before her legs could give out beneath her. Her hands were gripped to the front of his shirt, so hard that her knuckles turned white, and she cried. Her head was bowed down to hide her face, and her eyes were squeezed closed, but there was no holding back the overwhelming emotion. She couldn't think, she didn't know how to feel, it was all too much. She was latching onto the nearest thing to her—him. He had never seen her like that before, and he felt the physical pain in his chest. He pulled her towards him and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug as she cried against his shoulder.
Dean noted the doctor watching them from outside of Alison's room, and he just knew he was coming towards them. He tried to decipher the look on his face, he tried to work out if it was good news or bad news, but he just couldn't read him. He started walking in their direction. "Mom." Dean said, his voice firm, he held her a little tighter, and she looked up to face him. He nodded in the direction of the doctor, and she turned to face him.
He looked between John and Mary slowly. "Alison's parents?"
Her head almost snapped up. "Yes, yes, that's us." Her eyes studied him, the same as Dean's had just moments ago. "Where is she? Is she alright? What's going on?"
The doctor cleared his throat. "Mrs Winchester, your daughter is holding on. When she was brought in she was experiencing Hypovolemic shock, brought on by the serious amount of blood loss to her body." Her face paled visibly at the words. "Right now, we're still working on treating the blood loss, after that we're hoping her condition will stabilize, but we won't know anything more until then. She's lucky, if your sons hadn't found her when they did, it could have been a very different story. She's fighting hard. I'll update you as soon as we know anything more. Excuse me."
But before anyone else could get a single word out, and barely waiting until they were out of earshot of the doctor, John rounded on the two men standing behind him, his face the picture of thunder. He looked angry, furious even. "One of you better start explaining what the hell is going on." He raised his eyebrows, impatient, accusing, when neither of his sons answered. They looked started, too taken aback to form even a reasonable explanation, but he barely noticed. He looked to Dean, expectant. "Well?"
Mary's eyes lingered on him, she looked more afraid than anything else. She looked him up and down slowly, wary. His shirt and jeans were stained with blood, the skin of his hands, though it had been washed, was still tainted with a faint redness, and the left side of his face was slowly turning a deep shade of purple. "What happened to you?" she asked, timid, concerned.
Dean sighed, defeated. It had all gone on for long enough. He had to tell them, there was no other way around it. He couldn't keep lying about it, not anymore, not there, not after everything that had happened. He wouldn't know where to start, and it would simply lead to him and his sister drowning into a pit of deceit. Some secrets could only be kept for so long, and it was time that hers came out, even if she wasn't ready for it. "Okay," He nodded. "But I need you to hear me out. Please." His parents looked between each other, they looked confused, concerned, but they looked on at him, as if to say that they were prepared to do that. "The truth is, Ali got herself involved in something, and..." He shook his head, he didn't even know where to start, how was he supposed to put it into words? How was he supposed to begin explaining something like that to them?
"Something?" John pressed, there was a frown on his face, and Dean could see the curiosity, the worry for his only daughter. Sam was eyeing him carefully, as if wondering where he was going with his words. "Something like what?" he pressed. "Is she in some kind of trouble? Has someone hurt her?"
"No. At least, I don't think so." He sighed, he might as well just say it. "There are things out there, not... normal."
Mary's brows creased together. There was something in the pit of her stomach, a feeling, a realization, something like the last piece of a jigsaw being put into place. She only prayed that she was wrong. "Dean, what are you trying to say?"
"I mean, things that aren't... like us. Things that aren't human. And Alison was... I don't know... hunting them, I guess." He looked between them, desperate for them to understand. "I know it's unbelievable, and I didn't believe it, either. But I saw it for myself. I've seen what she can do, and it's real. It's all real. I know it sounds crazy, trust me, I know, but I'm telling you the truth."
"What do you mean, you've seen it?" Mary asked him, more concerned than ever. "When have you seen it?"
"The weekend after I came home, remember Ali said she was going to California to some college weekend? She wasn't. I knew she wasn't. I knew she was up to something, so I followed her." He paused, wondering how much he could really tell them. But it was out of the bag now, he had said too much for him not to say everything. They needed to know, at least, that's what he was telling himself. "She was going to Ohio, to hunt a ghost."
His dad's face fell, and, in that moment, Dean was sure they were ready to call him insane. "A ghost?"
Dean nodded. "I didn't believe it, either. I thought she was kidding, but I saw the thing, I saw her take it out. And, after that, we went to Colorado, we told you we were going camping, we were hunting this thing, a Wendigo, in the woods." They looked lost, stunned. "Like I said, I know how it sounds, and I don't expect you to believe me, but it's the truth."
But John and Mary suddenly looked a lot less shocked than he had expected. They shared a look between each other, as if having an unspoken conversation, one that, despite how he tried, he just couldn't hope to interpret, and for a moment he dared to believe they would listen. His mother looked almost heartbroken, his father looked confused, as though he couldn't comprehend what was happening around him.
"What?" He looked between them slowly, from one to the other, trying to understand. "What is it?"
"You know what a Wendigo is." Mary said softly, a slight waver in her words. "I know you're telling the truth." She seemed to compose herself a little, and appeared to realize where they were, standing in the middle of a busy hospital waiting room. She nodded towards a table towards the back of the room, quiet, secluded. "Come and sit down. There are some things you both need to know."
Sam and Dean shared a look, confused, more confused than they had been all night. Something was going on with their parents, and between them, they weren't sure they were ready to hear whatever they were about to be told. John placed a hand to her shoulder as she walked ahead of them, comforting, reassuring, and they followed. They sat across from their parents, and Dean felt almost nervous. He had never seen them look the way they did right there.
"There's a reason you've never met your grandparents." Mary said quietly, she almost sounded ashamed. "My mom and dad, they do the same thing as what Alison's been doing. They always have done. And, for a long time, until I met your father, so did I."
Dean's eyes were wide, Sam's mouth was hanging open. "Wait," Dean stopped her, shaking his head. He couldn't believe this. "You... hunted ghosts?"
Mary nodded. "I hunted everything. Ghosts, vampires, werewolves, demons," She offered Dean a slight smile. "Wendigos. And, Alison's been doing this? How long have you known about it?"
Dean sighed. "A while." His tone was apologetic, guilty. "Since the last time I was home. I know that I should have told you about it, but, I couldn't. Mom, I'm sorry."
She held up a hand, as if to say that it didn't matter. He noticed, she didn't appear angry, but then, she never did. He couldn't recall a single time he had seen his mother look truly angry, about anything. Annoyed, of course, pissed, on occasion, but never angry. "What was she hunting?" she pressed. "When it happened? What did this to my daughter?"
"Vampires." And he saw how her face completely dropped at the comment. "They didn't bite her." he added quickly. "They, uh, well, they were... you know..."
"Feeding off her." she finished for him. For a moment, he was sure she was going to be sick. "Did she take care of them?"
Dean shook his head. "I did." he said, and, this time, she noted how he sounded ashamed. "It's finished."
"And, her body?" she asked, hesitant. "Shifter?"
Dean nodded slowly. "Apparently. That's why she didn't come home. She left to take care of that shifter, she killed it, but then, I don't know exactly what happened, maybe she found out that there were vampires close by, or maybe they found her, but I think they got the jump on her." He cleared his throat. "When we found her, she was tied up, bloody..."
His mother looked ready to cry. "Oh my god."
"Mom," His eyes found hers, blue and shining with tears he knew she wouldn't let fall. "I really am sorry."
Mary opened her mouth to respond, but a voice stopped her. "Mr and Mrs Winchester?" She composed herself and looked up to face the doctor. His eyes looked between the four of them, and he seemed to realise he had stepped in at a bad time. "Sorry to interrupt."
"No, no." Mary stood to face him, as did John. "Is she okay? What's going on?"
The doctor's face formed the slightest smile. "It's good news, looks like we have a fighter on our hands. Your daughter is responding well to her treatment. We've treated the blood loss and she seems to have stabilized. I'm afraid now it's just a waiting game. We won't know anything more until she wakes up."
Sam frowned. "She will wake up, right?" he asked, and the fear came through in his words.
"I'm confident of it." he answered. "It's hard to say when, it really depends on her. With some patients it can be right away, with others it takes time. But, like I said, she's a fighter, hopefully it shouldn't be too long for you."
Mary smiled, fresh tears shining in her eyes. "Can we see her?"
"Of course." He nodded. "Talk to her, let her know you're with her. It helps."
They made a move towards her room, but Dean grabbed the sleeve of his mother's coat before she could go anywhere. Mary turned around, seeming a little startled, but she saw the look of fear in her son's face. He looked terrified, shattered, broken, as though the severity of what could have, and almost did, become their new reality had only then sunken into his head. He would maintain that she would be fine for as long as he could, but it was only when it was confirmed that he would allow the darker thoughts to enter his mind, the ones that told a different story, the ones where he didn't manage to save her, the ones where she wasn't going to be okay, the ones where his little sister didn't make it.
"Mom, I'm so sorry." he said, and the words took her by surprise. He sounded so small, so fragile in that moment, she felt her heart break a little. "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you. I'm sorry that I didn't stop her." He shook his head. "Mom, I'm just sorry. For all of it."
"Dean," She took a short step forwards and wrapped her arms around him. His arms held her tightly, looking for comfort. "This isn't your fault. This isn't anyone's fault. She's going to be fine." Tears welled up in her eyes as she held him tighter. "You saved her life. You saved her, Dean. She's okay."
Dean just didn't care anymore, he let it out. It didn't cross his mind that he was standing in the middle of a hospital waiting room, it didn't enter his head that he was crying against his mother's shoulder, it just didn't matter. Every ounce of strength he had held onto since he had been told she was gone crumbled then and there. He was finished. His eyes squeezed closed as he made some futile attempt to hold back the tears that pooled in his eyes, and his head dropped forwards heavily to rest on her shoulder, the same way that hers rested against his. They subconsciously held onto each other tighter, holding on for comfort, for support, and, for a long moment, neither made a move to change that.
Mary pulled back enough to look at him, and a soft smile graced her face, so loving, so forgiving. She reached up and wiped a stray tear from his cheek with her fingertips. "You know something, I'll never understand what it is the two of you have between you, I don't think anyone will, but I've always sworn you can read each other's minds, even when you were kids." She smiled. "I've never been more thankful for than than I am now. I don't think anyone else could have found her, Dean. Thank god you did."
Dean shook his head. "And what if I hadn't?" he asked her, because the guilt was building up inside him and he just didn't know what to do with it. "Mom, what if I hadn't found her? I knew what she was doing. And I knew, when I left, I knew she was going to do it again. I could have stopped her, I could have told you—"
"But you didn't. And you never would." He frowned, as though confused, and she chuckled. "Dean, you and Alison, I don't know the words to describe what the two of you have but," She paused for a moment, as if searching for the right words. "I think we all know, if Alison asks you to do something, you will, without question, the same as she would for you. And that's not such a bad thing. I don't blame you for this, neither does your father, and neither should you. Come with me," She guided him to the chairs they had been sitting on, and they sat beside each other. "You know, I don't know if I ever told you this, but when Alison was a baby, she woke up a lot during the night. And you weren't a heavy sleeper. You'd get out of bed and you'd come into her room, and I'd have been sat there trying to get her to calm for such a long time, you'd walk in with a blanket and sit with us, and all you'd have to say was it's okay, Ali, and she'd settle. Just like that. Every time. And I don't think that bond you two had ever broke."
Dean looked up at her. "You never told me that." he said quietly. "I don't even remember."
"You were only three." She smiled at the thought. "Some of the things I could tell you, Dean. I bet you don't remember you and your sister colouring all over my wall, do you?"
Dean laughed, shaking his head. "We did?"
"You could be little trouble makers when you wanted to be." There was a fond smile on her face as she thought back. "We had this dinner party planned once, your dad's boss and his wife were coming over, about ten minutes before they showed up, the three of you emptied an entire bag of flour all over the living room. And, I mean, I had three giggling kids covered head to toe in it, couch, floor, everything. Another time, you were probably about six or seven, and I still don't know how you did it, but we found the three of you sitting on the kitchen floor sharing a bottle of wine your dad had gotten for me, staggering around giggling between yourselves for hours. And then there was the time the three of you carved your initials into your dad's car, I don't think he ever got over that one." She laughed. "And don't think I don't know that you and Alison used to skip school together, because I know that, too." She saw his face drop at that comment, and he looked no older than a busted teenager. "And, I know about the tattoos."
The smile dropped, and Dean's face contorted to one of utter confusion, too good to have been acting. "What tattoos?"
Mary narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, let's keep it that way." Dean smiled, really smiled, and she couldn't help but realize just how much she'd missed that look on his face. "But, aside from a few broken ornaments and a couple repainted walls, you were good kids. When Sammy was born, Alison was still only a year old, she still woke up in the night, your dad worked full time, I was exhausted. Sometimes, when one of them would cry, you'd sing to them."
"I did?" He smiled a little. "Did it work?"
"With Alison? Every single time." She chuckled. "Sammy, not so much. But, in those moments, you seemed so much older." She smiled. "You always have been. All of you." She reached up and placed her hand gently to his cheek for a moment. "I don't know what I did to deserve kids like you three. But I must've done something right."
Dean smiled. "Well, we had good parents." he quipped. "I'm sure that helped."
Mary chuckled. "Maybe a little."
"Hey, mom? Can I ask you something?" She looked up, expectant. "Is this why you don't talk to your parents? Because you stopped hunting things?"
His mother shifted a little, and he noted the sadness in her eyes at the question. "Your grandparents lived for that job, that was who they were, it was all they were. We never really had a home, we just moved around all the time. Everything was about hunting, all the time. Our family time was shooting practice and researching cases, our dinners were just talk about monsters," She shook her head. "And then I met your dad. For the first time there was something else in my life, you know? Something more. And, when we found out we were going to have you, I just didn't want that kind of childhood for you. I couldn't let you grow up the same way that I did." She sighed. "They didn't understand that. They didn't agree. And we just kind of drifted apart. It was hard, but, I couldn't have any of you near that life. Not after—"
But she stopped herself, and he knew she hadn't meant to say whatever she almost had. "After what?"
Mary looked down, as if she didn't want to face him. "Something almost happened. Something almost went wrong." She cleared her throat and straightened herself in her chair, looking down at the rings on her finger. "There was a demon, this horrible, evil thing. It wanted Sam. And it almost got him. One night, he wasn't old, just six months. It tried to get into the house."
Dean wasn't sure what to say. "What happened?"
"There was a house in Lawrence we'd been looking at, we weren't sure about it, but that night it happened, we knew we had to take it. Your dad took the three of you to a motel near it, I stayed behind. My parents and I found that demon, we took care of it. That was the last time I saw them." She shrugged. "We had to get as far away from that life as we could. And, I knew, as long as we were around them hunting, the more danger you were going to be in. We couldn't risk it. So we bought that house in Kansas, and we started over."
Dean smiled. "Home."
"Yeah," She nodded. "Home."
He thought about what she had done, for them, and he frowned. "Don't you miss them?"
Mary nodded. "I do." She gave a soft smile. "But I think about what could have happened that night, and what might have happened if we hadn't left when we did. And I know we made the right choice."
Dean shook his head. "Why didn't you ever tell us about them?"
"I guess I didn't want any of you getting curious about their life." She gave a weak laugh. "Guess it found you anyway."
"Are you mad?" he asked, a little hesitant. "At Alison?"
"No." Her answer was automatic, as if it didn't even require her to think. But she knew, had her answer been different, he was more than ready to defend her. That never changed. But, really, she wasn't. "Not for a second. I've been there, I understand. And, you know, I'm not even surprised. Alison always wanted to help people, she always wanted to make some change in the world, that's why she took that job in the nursing home, she wanted to make people's lives better. I just wish she could have seen she already did, she didn't need to do anything more." This time it was Mary's turn to hesitate. "What was she like?" she asked, apprehensive. "Doing that job?"
Dean thought on her question for a long moment, unsure of what to say. "Different." he eventually answered. That was the only word he could think that did it justice. "She, uh, she was so confident. You know when she talks about work, and she'll say something like one of her residents had a fall and split their head, or they were having a fit, and she just knows what to do, she doesn't panic, she doesn't think twice, she just knows. It was kinda like that. She was brave. I mean, it was like she went from the girl who screamed at a spider in the bath to this fearless monster hunter. She just wasn't afraid, of anything. But she took it seriously. There was this one night, we weren't sure exactly what we were looking for, but she wouldn't quit until she found out, it was like she just needed answers, she needed to know, there was no talking to her, it just consumed her, like there wasn't a world outside of that motel room until she knew." He shrugged. "But she was doing everything she did for the right reasons, that much I know. She just wanted to save people. I think that's all she ever intended to do, and she just got herself in too deep." He paused, and a darker thought came to mind. "We could have lost her over it. We almost did."
Mary nodded in agreement. "But we didn't. And, right now, that's all that matters. You know, when the police told us that she...that we'd lost her..." She shook her head. "I couldn't even imagine a life without her. And the fact that she's here, that she's alive, nothing else matters. I still have my daughter, and you still have your sister. Nothing else should be important. Don't dwell on what could have happened, you'll never move past it."
"Yeah," Dean nodded. "You're right."
"Come on," Mary said, smiling. "Let's go and see your sister."
