Yay, a faster update! :)
Anyway, I wanted to say thank you to those who have stuck with this story even though I've been a little sporadic when it came to updates lately. My aunt is out the hospital so HOPEFULLY I can get back on track here. LOL Anyway, seriously, much love to you guys.
And since I haven't done it in a while. I'm disclaiming Supernatural. I own Alyson and maybe a few of the plot lines throughout the series that aren't actually in the series. LOL
Bedtime Stories
Part One
"Hey, what if people do just wanna destroy themselves?" Dean asked after what felt like an eternity.
Ever since he'd asked if I would keep fighting and I'd said yes we'd been silent. And now I wanted to tell him that he was obviously one of the ones who wanted to destroy themselves. Hence the deal, the selling of his soul, the most precious thing he had.
But I didn't say that because I'd just, not thirty minutes ago, promised I'd be here for him. Not to judge him or mock him, but to actually be here for him.
"If they want to destroy themselves, then I guess we have to let them. We can't save everyone…and we especially can't save people who don't wanna be saved. I mean, it's like that kid says in Terminator, it's almost like we're programmed for self-destruction."
"Like you hurting yourself?"
"Um…I thought we'd already established that I didn't hurt myself." Because I hadn't.
"Yeah, but I thought you had. I used to…I never would've had to worry about that before. But now…and it would've been my fault."
"Dean." I got up on my knees on the bed so I could face him better. "If I had hurt myself, it would never be your fault." I cupped his cheek gently. "It's…you're not responsible for what other people do. It's not your fault."
"Yeah, well…" He grabbed my hand and squeezed. "Can I ask you something? And you'll answer without…evading or anything like that?"
"Okay." I could do that for him. Would do that for him.
"Back in Wyoming, there was this moment. Yellow Eyes said something to me."
Oh, God, that didn't sound good.
"What'd he say?"
His eyes strayed all over the place before he answered, which proved he didn't really wanna talk about this. "That maybe when Sam came back from wherever…maybe he came back different." Dean bit his lip before continuing. "Whatever it was, it didn't sound good."
If Yellow Eyes had told him that…that meant he'd been carrying it around inside for four months. He'd always had thoughts about Sam going dark side since John had said Dean might have to kill Sam if he couldn't save him. He'd had to carry it around because I hadn't been there for him to tell, to confide in.
"And then tonight he shot two demons. Didn't hesitate or flinch or anything. And for a second after…he didn't look like Sam."
It clicked then, why Dean had sounded worried and desperate earlier. Also why he hadn't wanted Sam touching me earlier. After everything we'd learned about me being the opposite of Sam, that one of us was to kill the other…Dean had been scared for both of us.
"That's why you took me from Sam."
"Yeah. I didn't actually think he'd hurt you. I just…he didn't seem like himself, and I couldn't take that risk."
"Well…" Wow. "He didn't…doesn't feel any different, if that helps any. He feels like the same old Sam."
Dean nodded, his relief palpable. "That's good to hear." I had unintentionally answered his unasked question.
"But Dean…Dean, he's not okay. You're gonna die, so of course he's not okay. I mean…you don't want us to try and help you, so we feel kind of useless right now. Sitting back and letting you die."
"Aly, you know why you guys can't do anything."
"I know. But Sam won't give up. If the roles were reversed, you wouldn't give up."
The next morning I woke up with a vomit-inducing fever. Seriously. A clinging to the toilet, sweating and shivering, vomit-inducing fever.
"Jeeze, you don't do anything halfway, do you?" Dean quipped sympathetically, kneeling beside me in the bathroom, keeping my hair from getting in the way.
I couldn't answer for heaving and so Dean just continued holding my hair up, trailing his thumb over the back of my neck soothingly. Eventually I was just dry heaving and so I sat back on my knees and leaned against Dean's shoulder. I groaned weakly. This sucked, being sick. I hurt everywhere.
I'd never felt this bad before - although the venom from being bitten by a werewolf came in close second - and I literally felt like I was going to pass out. I wanted it; passing out was better than this, this feverish ache.
"Oh, fuck," I complained breathlessly.
Dean huffed out a worried laugh. "Did you just say fuck?"
"Yes."
"Wow. You really do feel bad. I didn't know you had such a potty mouth."
"Only in extreme situations." I tried to joke, but it fell flat.
I felt my throat convulse in that way it does when vomiting was almost inevitable, and I swallowed against it. I placed one hand over my mouth and one across my stomach.
"Come on, Aly, let it go. Better out than in," he said, moving me back to the toilet.
An hour later, I was completely empty and curled up in the bed under the covers. Hot but cold at the same time.
The next time I saw Ruby, I was going to kill her. It was her fault I was feeling this way, so, yeah, death seemed a good punishment for giving me this demonic flu-bug thing. Yup, I would definitely kill her if Dean didn't get to her first.
Speaking of Dean, he was being extremely sweet and caring; it was his way of making up for yelling at me the night before without having to say he was sorry. Truth was, though, that if he'd left me here to suffer alone, I would've understood with how I'd been treating him lately.
But that wasn't Dean. Dean was there for those he loved no matter how much they'd hurt him in the process. He literally lived the concept of unconditional love.
Dean had already gotten his stuff together and we were getting ready to go because we needed to take Bobby back home. I didn't really feel like traveling, but I figured that as long as I didn't eat anything, I'd be okay.
It was proof of how worried Dean was that he didn't say anything about me not hurling in his car.
"I'll be right back, okay? I'm gonna take my stuff to the car. I'll be back to get you in a minute."
"M'kay," I mumbled.
He was back in less than a minute.
"I asked Sam to pull the car up out front." He came to me and picked me up, cradling me much like he had the night before. "You good?"
"Uh-huh."
"Good." He held me to his chest securely. "Please don't throw up on me." His inappropriately timed sense of humor was back, but I couldn't even find the strength to laugh or smack him playfully.
"Don't shake me too much and I won't."
He walked us smoothly to the car where we got situated.
"I'm gonna sit back here with you, okay?"
"Yeah," I whispered as he wrapped a blanket around me and pulled me close to him. "Good."
It was good because no matter how I felt now, it would be ten times worse without Dean holding me. Besides…I was enjoying being taken care of.
The drive to Bobby's was a long one - 12-13 hours at least - and I slept for most of it. It was weird, but the way the car moved was soothing to me, and so every time I would wake up I would be lulled back to sleep.
Mostly, Dean just let me sleep. The only time he woke me up was to ask if I needed anything to drink or if I wanted to try and eat. I didn't want anything because I was sure it wouldn't stay down anyway.
When we got to Bobby's, though, Dean wanted me to try some toast. Just the thought of food was enough to turn my stomach, but I did try, and I sipped on some Sprite.
My fever wasn't too bad now; it was below the shaking and shivering point, so that was good, I assumed.
Bobby had gone up to bed as soon as we'd gotten back here; Dean, Sam, and I were downstairs in the kitchen. They were eating, just very simple sandwiches.
"Hey, Dean?" Sam said, after he was done. "I was thinking…we have the Colt now. We should go and -"
"No," Dean interrupted. "I already know what you're gonna say, and no."
"Why not?"
"Because I said so," Dean answered simply.
"But we've got the Colt now. And we've got Alyson -"
"Sam…no. We're not using the Colt, and we're definitely not using Aly." I knew the last part was more because he was scared of what would happen to me if I tried anything.
Sam didn't listen. "Look, we can summon the crossroads demon -"
"No, we're not summoning anything."
Sam yelled over Dean. "We can pull the gun on her, and force her to let you out of the deal."
"We don't even know if that'll work!"
"Well, then we'll just shoot her! If she dies, the deal goes away."
Why did they both have to be so damn stubborn? And did they really have to do this now? While I was here? They knew how I got when they were arguing, how my abilities sort of went haywire. This time was no different. The glass in front of me that I'd been drinking from started to tremble, but the guys were yelling at each other so loud they didn't notice.
"We don't know if that'll work either, Sam! All you're pictchin' me right now is a bunch of ifs and maybes, and that's not good enough, because if we screw with this deal, you die!"
"And if we don't screw with it, you die!" Sam yelled and my glass exploded. Along with the two bulbs in the room. And the table started shaking, rocking back and forth.
Needless to say…it got their attention and they stopped arguing. Probably because they had to duck and cover from the sparks from the exploding bulbs.
"Aly, stop it!" Dean yelled.
"I'm trying," I said.
I was trying. Breathing evenly, focusing on calming down, it just wasn't working. So when the sparks cleared, Dean made it to me and calmed me down his way; by holding me close and rubbing my back in small, soothing circles.
"Okay, this is over," Dean said. "Come on, Aly."
"Dean." Sam was exasperated. "No, we need -"
"I'm not gonna have this conversation. Let it go," Dean interrupted.
"Why, because you said so?" Sam seethed. He hated being bossed around.
"Yes, because I said so! Now stop before she throws you out a window or something."
"What the hell's going on down here?" Bobby's voice came from the kitchen archway.
I looked at him and my anger - or whatever - went away immediately. No more rattling table. Bobby was standing there in long johns and had a shotgun in his hands. I felt like laughing.
"What the hell happened to my kitchen?"
"Um…Aly happened," Dean said sheepishly. "Sam and I were arguing and it must've pissed her off."
"So you take it out on my kitchen?" he asked me, though I could tell he wasn't really angry.
"Sorry, Bobby. We'll clean it up," Sam said. Maybe he was feeling guilty for making me lose control. Or for taking part in it, anyway.
"Yeah, Sam'll clean it up," Dean volunteered, and Sam gave Dean his most bitchy bitch-face for that. "Aly and I are goin' to bed.
I was feeling even shakier since, and probably because of, my little outburst, so instead of me walking, Dean just decided to carry me.
When we passed Bobby, Dean looked at him and said, "Nice PJ's, Bobby," with that quirky attitude of his. I actually did giggle at that and hid my face against Dean's shoulder.
"Oh, that's funny. Now get upstairs 'fore I shoot ya," Bobby grumbled. "And clean up my kitchen," he threw at Sam.
Up in the room, Dean found my new laptop and began fiddling around with it. I didn't care because as much as Dean pretended to be technologically illiterate, he knew his way around a computer. He had to for the job.
"You better not be lookin' up porn sites on that thing," I said.
"Dude, I would never. This is your computer. You just so happen to be my girlfriend. You think I'd leave an evidence trail for you to find?"
I couldn't tell if he was trying to be funny or not, so I let that one go.
"What're you doing, anyway?"
"Well, I was gonna play pinball, but then I noticed you had, like five hundred books on this thing." That was an exaggeration; I had, like, fifty. "I wanted to see what you read for fun. But you're like Sam on that. You don't read fun stuff."
"If by that, you mean the books I read contain hardly any nudity, then, yeah, you're right. But I know how to have sex; I don't need to read about it."
Dean grinned at my casual tone. "Seems you're feelin' a little better. Talkin' and all."
"Mm. My stomach's still a little rumbly, but…yeah."
I didn't sleep much that night. Mostly, I just watched Dean sleep. He was really beautiful when he was resting, almost peaceful looking. All the worries from his waking hours seemed like they disappeared. His face was soft and child-like; it was nice to get to see him like that even if it was while he was asleep.
I reached over and caressed his face. I sent a warm and gentle 'I love you" into him and his lips twitched upward into a slight smile. Apparently, he'd heard me anyway, even through sleep.
The laptop was between us and so I picked it up and began going through some current events on the Internet. Nationwide search. I tried to find something close by so we could get there fast, but there wasn't anything near here. No demonic omens, nothing. I supposed I should've been happy about that.
The only thing I could find was in New York, and that was weird, the article was.
Psychotic killer…ripped his victims apart with brute-like ferocity. Three men were attacked; two didn't make it, one got away. The three were brothers. The one that got away was now in the hospital, awake and pretty okay, physically.
There was no mention of anything weird other than the 'brute-like ferocity'. No razor-sharp teeth, no four-inch claws, no animal eyes. Just the fact that two people had been ripped apart was bad enough, but if a human had done it…the human had to have been possessed or something. Vampire, werewolf, shapeshifter, something.
There weren't really any recent missing person ads or any suspicious deaths other than the two guys. Vampires would probably leave a bigger death trail than just two people, and the other brother wouldn't have gotten away. I hadn't heard of a shapeshifter that tore its victims apart, but it was possible. Still, the best thing to do would be to check the lunar cycle to be sure of the werewolf thing. If the cycle wasn't right, we wouldn't even have to check the werewolf angle.
I slid out of bed easily, so as not to wake Dean, and took my laptop with me. I would go and see if Sam was awake. If he was, he could help see if there was anything else weird that I had maybe missed. It could happen, because even though it felt longer, I had only been living this life for a little less than a year and a half.
I went to Sam's room and opened the door a little. The light had been shining beneath the closed door, so I knew he was awake.
"Sam?" I said softly. "Can I come in?"
"Yeah, sure."
He was sitting up on his bed, and apparently he'd had the same idea as me, because he had his laptop in front of him, too.
"What's up?" he asked, looking up from the screen.
"Uh, I may have found a job in New York, but I'm not sure."
"What'd you find?"
I filled him in and found out the lunar cycle was right.
"Look, if it is a werewolf, we don't have long. The moon is full this Friday, and that's the last time if changes for a month."
"Hm. If Dean drives, we'll get there in time." Dean could drive like a lunatic if he wanted to.
"Hey, uh, I'm sorry about, ya know…" Sam said, and I shook my head.
"Don't worry about it." He hadn't meant to make me lose control, and Dean had been the one being stubborn anyway. Mostly.
"I was right, though…right? We do have you?"
"Have me, yes. Can you use me? No."
"What?" He seemed somewhat surprised. "But you love Dean. If it could save him… I don't understand."
"Sam, I've told you before, if I could save you too, then yeah. But…I can't. I won't be put in the middle of this. I won't be responsible for who lives and dies."
I couldn't do that. I couldn't have that weight on my shoulders, because if one of them were to die because of something I did, I wouldn't be able to live with myself.
"Well, I'll find a way. I'll find a way that won't hurt me in the process."
I nodded. "That would be nice."
The next morning we left bright and early after filling Dean in. At the car Dean fixed Sam with a teasing glare.
"No arguing in the car, Sammy. I don't feel like replacing the windows, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah," Sam said, rolling his eyes. "Best behavior."
Sam was a little mad at me, I was sure, because I'd said I wouldn't help him save Dean unless we found a foolproof way of saving him, too. I knew Sam didn't want to die, I knew that, but Sam didn't want Dean to die because of him either.
"So, you said you guys were thinking werewolf? Any missing hearts or anything?" Dean asked.
"No. Just the two victims were ripped apart and the lunar cycle fits."
"Hm. As good a lead as any, I guess."
"Yup. Think you can get us there on time?" I teased.
"Yeah, no sweat."
We got there in record timing and we got a motel room. Sam and Dean decided that we would get up bright and early again and go to the hospital to chat with the brother that had gotten away, and to take a peek at the coroner's report on the other two.
I chose the latter of the two assignments, and that was that. So after a not-good night's sleep, the three of us went to the hospital. We split up at the entrance; I needed to go to the basement, they needed to go up.
I stopped by a laundry room on the way and got a clean doctor's coat and then slipped it on. When I made it to the basement floor - which was the morgue here - I just walked right in. No one tried to stop me. Either I was getting better at this, gaining more confidence in myself, or people were just stupid. Probably a little of both.
The filing system was set up as a hard copy and a back up file on the computer, so I just made a copy of the file on the two brothers. Easy as cake - for once.
I ditched the lab coat in the hallway when no one was watching and then made it back to the entrance where I waited for the guys to get back.
I went through the death stuff - coroner's report - while I waited. Both brothers had been dead when the cops had arrived at the scene. Their hearts were not missing, but something had eaten away at their kidneys, lungs, and intestines.
"Ew."
Maybe we were just dealing with a regular wild animal attack. But, no…teeth marks were human.
"Well, this is a piece of, uh, art. Really." Dean's voice. I could probably recognize it from a mile away.
"Yeah, like you could've done any better," Sam said.
I looked up from the files I was going through and saw them coming toward me. Dean was holding a notepad and it made me wonder what exactly was a work of art. I stood up when they reached me and matched my steps to theirs. Talk about being in tune with each other.
"Hey, so, what'd you get?" Dean asked.
"Copy of a coroner's report for Emmett and Jack. The two brothers. They were dead on arrival. And I don't think it's a werewolf."
"No missing hearts?" Sam asked.
"Nope. But something ate away at their other organs. Kidneys, lungs, intestines. Guy who did the report thought it was a dog or a wolf until they checked the bite marks. Human."
"That's just gross," Sam said, grimacing.
"Yeah, tell me about it," I agreed. "So…what're we thinkin'? Demonic possession?"
"Why would a demon stop halfway through an attack?" Dean asked.
"I think - it could've - yeah, I got nothin'," Sam said.
I could practically feel his brain working. "Don't think too hard. You might hurt yourself."
"Bite me," he said, half-playful half-serious, so I snapped my teeth at him.
"Hey, how'd you get the files, anyway?" Dean asked. "That fast?"
I smiled at him. "Well, there was this hot intern that was at the desk. I promised him a favor if he let me make a copy, so we had fast, passionate sex on the copier machine."
Sam snickered under his breath while Dean arched an eyebrow in amusement. "Uh-huh. And, ya know, if that was comin' from me, I might believe it, but, uh, you? You're PG-13 whereas I am NC-17. How'd you really get the files?"
I laughed once or twice and grabbed his hand. "Lab coat. Nobody stopped me."
"Hm. That's more like it," he said, squeezing my hand. "Pervert."
"Other pervert." I grinned. "If I had done something like that, I would've learned from you."
"Mm…knew I was a bad influence on you."
"Ya'll joke around at the most inappropriate times, you know that," Sam said, looking like he didn't really know what to think about it.
Dean gave his usual sarcastic grin and said, "Keeps us sane, Sammy. Besides, just because you have no sense of humor, doesn't mean we don't."
"I have a -" Sam cut off, exasperated. "You know what? Whatever. We have work to do."
"See what I mean? No sense of humor." Dean had said that looking at me even though he'd been talking about Sam. I hid my face in his arm so Sam wouldn't see the wide open smile on my face.
God, this felt good. Laughing, joking around, working on a regular case - regular for us, anyway - and not arguing about Dean's deal. Letting things just be for now. Focusing on the case and not the big pink elephant that was Dean dying.
"Okay, so what did you guys find out?" I asked.
"Not much. Just that the poor guy is grieving," Sam said. "He just lost his brothers."
Shadows filled Sam's eyes and then my good mood vanished almost instantly. Damn it. Jeeze, couldn't we go a day without bringing that up or thinking about it? Of course not, but I wanted to.
Dean glanced Sam's way, shadows in his own eyes. Dean knew why Sam was the way he was, just like he knew he wouldn't let Sam do anything about it.
"Anyway, what was a work of art?" I asked, suddenly remembering, and effectively changing the subject.
"Oh, uh, this," Dean said, handing me the notepad he'd been carrying, seeming grateful for the subject-change.
On the piece of paper was a bubbly-person thing.
"Um…I don't get it. Were you bored?" I asked Sam.
"No." Sam seemed caught between being embarrassed and being irritated. "Dean said I was a sketch artist."
"Oh…well, you were right. He couldn't have done better."
"True," Dean agreed. "I have many skills. Art is not one of them. So, anyway, what d'you wanna do? The werewolf thing didn't pan out, and we have next to nothin' on this guy with that weird tattoo."
"Tattoo?" I asked. "The one who attacked the three brothers had a tattoo?"
"Yeah. Wile E. Coyote."
"Hm. Weird thing to get as a tattoo."
"Obviously the dude likes cartoons," Dean said.
"Maybe," Sam agreed. "Anyway, we should hit the local tattoo parlors. Most owners keep a record of who gets what tattoo. Maybe we can track this guy that way."
"Good idea, Sammy. We'll get right on that."
"Hey, you mind if I sit this one out? I didn't get much sleep last night, and I was thinking you could drop me off at the motel and I could take a nap or something." My sleeping pattern was sort of backward at the moment, because of the day I'd slept through when I'd been sick, so I wanted to sleep during the day instead.
"Sure, you feelin' okay?" Dean asked.
"Yeah," I said honestly. "Yeah, just thinking I should sleep, so I won't get giddy. You can come get me if you find something."
"Okay, well, if you want," he said as we reached the car.
I could see the worry Dean had for me and if wasn't just because I'd been sick recently. He was wondering what I was going to be doing on my own. He never would've wondered before, but now…
It hurt that he didn't trust me completely anymore, but I knew it was my own fault so I couldn't complain.
It had been an hour since I'd been dropped off and I'd tried to go to sleep, I really had, but I couldn't, so I was watching TV.
I was just flipping aimlessly through the channels - nothing was on except Tom and Jerry, so I watched a few episodes of that and then switched to the news.
A woman who had lost her husband was in the hospital. Some old woman had stabbed the guy to death. The wife - widow now - had been taken in yesterday, but she'd only woken up today.
Since I couldn't sleep anyway, I decided I'd go check it out. The hospital was only about a mile away, so I could walk. Dean might not like it, me going off without them, but I'd have to do it a lot in the future, so…bad train of thought, time to change the subject. I realized I was becoming avoidy, but I didn't feel like dealing with this head on yet. I was happily - okay, not so happily - vacationing in the land of not coping.
I texted Dean, letting him know that I was going back to the hospital because something had come up and I'd see him whenever we met up after that.
It was semi-chilly outside, but it was refreshing today. I could walk and just revel in the wind blowing against my face, the cool air filling my lungs.
I reached the hospital in about fifteen minutes and I tried to think of a reason why I could be here to see the woman. Julie something. Watson? Maybe? I really needed to start paying more attention to stuff like that.
I stopped at the nurses' station and asked if Julie Watson was able to have visitors.
"Are you family?" the receptionist asked.
"No, but I'm with the church. Grief counselor."
The receptionist, who was a Barbie Doll looking chick, looked sympathetic enough and said, "She's awake, but you'll have to ask Dr. Garrison. He's with her right now, if you hurry, you can catch him."
She gave me Julie's room number and I did as she said and I hurried. When I got to the room I saw the doctor was restraining Julie, trying to calm her down.
I assumed she was trying to leave, because he said, "We need to observe you, all right? The drugs may still be in your system."
"But I have to go. I have things to do, arrangements I need to make!"
"It can wait," the doctor said softly. "Now, you need to rest. Stay. I'll be back in a few minutes."
The doctor reached the doorway where I was standing and he looked expectantly at me. "Can I help you?"
"Yes, are you Dr. Garrison?"
"Yes, and you are?"
I smiled politely. "I'm a volunteer from the church. We usually make house calls, but we heard Julie was in the hospital and that…well, that her husband was no longer with us. I'm with a sort of support group, um, grief counselors…I was hoping I could sit with her for a few minutes."
Dr. Garrison nodded his head. "Sure. Maybe you can keep her from trying to run away."
"Thank you."
He began walking away and I stepped into the room. Julie looked at me before turning away again.
"Are you another reporter or cop?"
"No," I said and then told her who I was pretending to be. "Look, I know talking to cops and reporters…it's not fun. But I'm not here to ask questions, or…push. I'm just here to listen if you want to talk."
"I want to get out of here," she said brokenly. "I feel fine, I need to leave."
"Dr. Garrison said you were drugged, he just want to make sure you're okay before you leave."
Julie and I sat there in silence for a while, her in the bed and me in a chair pulled up beside her, and then she started talking.
"Ken was…I loved him, but sometimes he could make me so mad."
"You just wanted to smack him sometimes, huh?"
"Exactly," she let out a sound that was between a laugh and a sob. "We were hiking and he got us lost. We were really deep in the woods. We found this house, it was the only one around."
Her eyes filled with water and I grabbed her hand. I almost jerked away; I could literally feel the gaping hole that had formed in her chest since Ken had died. Been killed. God, that's what I had to look forward to in eight months. Lost and lonely emptiness.
"There was an old woman, she invited us in. We had a little to eat and I guess that's how she drugged us. I didn't eat as much as Ken did, so I wasn't as out of it." She took a few shaky breaths as tears spilled over and she squeezed my fingers tightly. "When the old woman was…carving up Ken…I shoved her, and she fell. Cracked her head on the stove. I think…she's dead. I think I killed her."
"You didn't have a choice," I said gently. "Did…Ken do anything or…did something happen to make her do that?"
"No," Julie said. "One minute, she's just a sweet old lady, and the next, she was like a monster!"
I felt guilt and confusion and loss coming from her in waves and so I tried sending feelings back to her. Only a small amount so she wouldn't know it was coming from me. Mostly I sent peace and warmth. Peace was harder to conjure up lately, but I remembered how I'd felt at Bobby's near his little stream and that's how I sent it to her. I hadn't known it would work because I'd never done that to anyone other than Dean before, but it did work.
She sort of slumped backwards onto the bed and began looking tired. Almost relaxed even; she was about to try and sleep.
"There was a girl," she said, her voice dragging.
"At the house?" I asked, pulling my feelings back a little.
"She was outside the window. She just disappeared. Vanished into thin air."
A ghost? Spirit possession? Or had she been so drugged she'd been hallucinating?
"She had this dark, dark hair and really pale skin. She was around eight. She was a beautiful child. It was odd to see her in the middle of something so horrible."
She looked like she was about to cry again, so I sent the peaceful feeling back into her slowly as I watched her drift off. I rubbed the back of her hand with my thumb and kept sending little tendrils of peace and warmth into her.
Her face was lax, her breathing was even, there was no tension at all in her body.
"My God, you are a miracle worker. I've been trying to get her to do that for the last few hours."
I looked back toward the door and saw Dr. Garrison. I noticed now that he was middle-aged. He had big brown eyes, salt and pepper hair, and he looked tired.
"Yeah, well, I do what I can." I removed my hand from Julie's gently so I wouldn't disturb her and stood up. "I'm sorry if I took up too much time."
"No, she's sleeping. It's what she needs."
I reached the door and he let me pass, but then he matched his pace with mine.
"I checked in earlier when she was talking to you. You were really good with her. No pushing, no prodding."
I shrugged. "Sometimes the best thing for someone in a situation like that is for them to know they're not alone. For someone just to listen to them, or just sit quietly with them."
"You sound like you have experience with loss," Dr. Garrison said sympathetically.
"Yeah, I do. But, um, who doesn't?"
"True. Well, this is my stop."
We stopped at a room. There was a name on the door. C. Garrison? It wasn't his office, it was a patient's room.
"You have a family member here?" I asked.
"Calli. My daughter. She's been here for eight years. She's in a coma."
Poor guy. "I'm so sorry. I can't imagine how hard that must be." A parent shouldn't have to watch their child die. "What, uh, what happened to her? If you don't mind my asking."
"She swallowed bleach. I never figured out how she got her hand on the bottle. My wife found her, brought her to the ER here, and I was on call. My wife passed away last year, and it's just my daughter and me now. She's all I've got left."
"I'm really sorry," I said again. I didn't know what else to say other than that. I didn't know what being a parent was like, and hopefully, if I ever had kids, I would never know what it felt like to watch them die.
Hey, so I like this chapter for some reason. Yeah, it sucks that Aly was suffering at the beginning. But I love the Bobby scene in the kitchen, I can just see that playing out in my head, for real. Review and let me know what you think. Please? (I'm giving you puppy dog eyes, here) lol