When the Cradle Falls

Chapter Three: Good Girl Gone

It was strange to climb up and down the ivy trellis growing around her bedroom window.

It was something Alice never would have even dreamt of doing. Now, she was doing it several times of a week. Each time she left, she expected her parents to be standing in the yard in their bathrobes, tapping their foot, the same true when she climbed back into the bedroom.

But tonight was not that night. Alice quietly slipped in through her cracked bedroom window and slid between the covers, still wearing the tight turtleneck and suede skirt-two new pieces she kept hidden under her dresser.

She laid awake all night, but not due to the excitement of being with Dean-not this time. Her mind was dredging up anxieties she couldn't lay to rest. Ending up zoning out every time Dean opened his mouth, Alice said she wasn't feeling well and ran away in the dark before Dean had the chance to walk her home.

Dozing in and out, Alice finally felt she tipped over the edge into Dreamland when the annoying buzzing of her alarm clock protruded in the warm cocoon of sleep.

Blindly groping the nightstand, Alice's hand smacked around for the snooze bar, instead effectively knocking the clock under the bed, alarm still blaring.

Mumbling under her breath, bleary eyed Alice rolled off the bed and on her knees scrambled to turn off the alarm before one of her parents came in and yelled at her. If they saw her, messy haired, smudged makeup, and such tight clothing, they'd accuse her on becoming a lady of the night-a phrase she'd heard them use before.

Wanting to scratch her brain from the noise, Alice ended up yanking the cord from the wall and kicking the clock further underneath her bed.

Standing in front of the vanity, Alice very sloppily wiped off some makeup only to apply more. She ran a brush through her hair twice. On the way down the stairs, Alice slipped on some clogs with embroidered flowers on them and a patchy windbreaker in some horrendous colors. She quietly maneuvered around the front door, not wanting to have to face either of her parents. Conveniently in the pockets of the windbreaker was a pair of black square sunglasses that Alice was sure her father got from his job.

Shoving them on her face, Alice walked, face pointed down, all the way to school and nearly smacked into Dean as he called her name.

"Whoa, Alice. Didn't know if you were coming to school today. What, are you going for a grunge look or something?"

"Late night," she muttered, passing Dean, bumping him out of the way.

"Hey," Dean grabbed her wrist and spun her around. "What's going on with you? Last night we were having fun and all of a sudden you just took off."

Wrenching her wrist from his grasp, Alice whipped off the sunglasses, eyes squinting from the sudden brightness. "It's just not a good day, Dean. I don't know what to tell you. Sometimes people just have bad days and they can't explain them."

Frowning, Dean motioned to her carefully. "Allie, don't take this the wrong way, but you have a bad day more than sometimes. It seems like you have more bad days than good." He reached a hand out and placed in on her arm.

Alice scoffed. "Well sorry I don't have a sunny disposition. This is just how I am Dean. If you don't like that, then take a hike. You got what you wanted from me several times." She physically shoved him and stomped away.

Dean let the girl go. He sat down on a ledge near the school and scratched the back of his head. He knew girls were confusing, put Alice was like a Rubik's cube inside a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle inside some stupid riddle. Still, there had to be something that made her so damn emotional all the time. Dean wasn't entirely sure how often girls got their periods, but he knew it at least wasn't as often as Alice acted moody.

He thought perhaps it had something to do with the fact he could leave for good at any time. They both knew this and maybe her little episodes were just her way of not falling for him.

That was just an idea, though.

Dean didn't understand girls and resigned to the fact he never would.

She shouldn't have gone to school today. Before first hour was even over, Alice had slammed open the front door of her house, with no sudden regard to alerting her mother she was skipping school.

Let the hell fire rain down for all Alice cared.

"Hello?" Sherry Mercer called from the upstairs, head poking around the corner.

"It's just me, Mom," Alice called back, as she plopped down in the living room.

"Alice?" Sherry called again. Her footsteps echoed down the stairs. "Shouldn't you be at school? And what on God's green earth are you wearing? What happened to your hair?"

"Long night," Alice muttered. "And I wasn't feeling school today."

"You weren't 'feeling' school today? That's not how it works. You better march back there right now before I-"

"Spare me, Mom." Alice touched the back of her wrist to her forehead."

Sherry moved further into the room and took in her daughter's strange ensemble. "Alice Francine, are you...high?"

Alice scoffed. "No, Mom."

"What have you been smoking, injecting, or sniffing?"

"Nothing. Seriously."

"Then you're drunk," Sherry insisted.

"No. I'm just tired."

"Well, you shouldn't have stayed up so late...is it a boy?"

Alice banged her head against the back of the chair, but let her mother think she was bluffing. "It's not a boy, Mom."

"It is a boy," Sherry confirmed quietly. Alice's eyes snapped open as Sherry sat across from Alice in another armchair. There was an empty glass tumbler on a windowsill by the chair. "I've seen that boy, the one you've been spending all your time with."

Alice didn't say anything.

Sherry wagged a finger in Alice's face. "He's a distraction, Alice. He's the reason you're so tired. You need to focus less on boys and more on school. College application deadlines are in a few months-"

"It's not about him," Alice hissed quietly. "And you know I'll apply to all the schools you want me to apply to and get into them and get whatever degree you tell me to get. Just let me have this one thing that isn't part of your plan for me."

"Where is all this coming from, Alice?" Sherry asked, never seeing her daughter snap out in rebellion. Alice had always been a good girl, always did as she was told, did the right thing. Alice had never spoke any objections about anything, actually seemed particularly eager.

Taking a deep breath, Alice sighed and gently reached forward, grabbing one of Sherry's hands. "Sometimes I just feel sad, Mom."

Sherry patted Alice's hand with the other. "Sure, people feel sad all the time but that doesn't you can miss school."

"Maybe sad wasn't the right word. Sometimes I just feel empty, like nothing really matters." Alice looked at Sherry with the next words she spoke. "Sometimes it just makes me want to lay in bed all day and not think about anything."

Retracting her hand suddenly, Sherry grabbed the glass on the windowsill and stood. She smoothed out her robe. "You're going to school, young lady."

Alice just sighed in aggravation, knowing damn well she was going to school.

"I don't want to catch one more glimpse of that boy, Alice. You better straighten yourself out and end things with him. Your whole future is on the line here."

"Oh don't be so dramatic. One boy isn't going to make a difference."

"Go to school now or you'll be in a world of trouble when you get home, young lady. And watch your tone with me." Sherry gave her a stern glare, keeping the gaze until Alice had slammed the door behind her, to leave for school a second time that day.

Dean spotted Alice again in the hallways a couple times that day. He wanted to know what she was doing back there. As he was about to approach her, a hall monitor came by and told Alice to take off the sunglasses. She took them off and put them right back on as soon as the hall monitor walked away.

But in that moment, Dean caught a few shimmering droplets around her eyes as she tried very hard not to look at the hall monitor.

Dean's experience with crying girls was mostly limited to him breaking up with them, but that normally never phased him. Seeing Alice crying in the middle of the hallways really freaked him out, causing him to backpedal down the hall in the opposite direction of his glass, the direction Alice was walking.

He'd never known a girl to cry like that, walking around the halls like some damned spirit looking for peace that would never come.

Maybe it was partially due to the fact the girls Dean tended to go for were always among the happier variety, the ones near the top of the totem pole that never had anything to be sad about, especially when she had Dean Winchester's arm around her shoulder.

But Alice was technically near the bottom of the pile, but could've been higher if she tried a little harder, wanted it a little more. She was satisfied with being another face, another forgettable.

All those other girls all wanted to be something, have their names in lights, or wanted everyone to adore them.

Alice didn't want any of that.

And Dean didn't know what to do with that. It wasn't what he was used to.

Fuck it, he thought suddenly, shaking his head to forget about the girl whose depths he couldn't seem to understand.

Like he was supposed to, Sam waited for Dean to walk him back from school. However, like he wasn't supposed to, the younger Winchester eventually got fed up with waiting, figuring Dean was screwing around with Alice somewhere, and Sam wasn't about to wait for a smug Dean with messed up hair and wrinkled clothes to come around and clap him on the back, making some comment about how women were God's gift to the earth, and how Dean was God's gift to all women.

You'll understand when you're older, Dean would say, and ruffle Sam's hair.

What Dean didn't understand was that Sam got it. He got it perfectly, probably better than most other middle schoolers, unlike them, Sam had perspective; he could see how very quickly something seemingly good could go south. Because as Sam saw it, he could never have anything meaningful when he was always the kid that gave the new kid from the beginning of the year a reprieve for a couple weeks, a couple months at the most. Nothing was permanent in his life, and while that meant it was easier to fool around and not take anything too seriously, that could only be fun for so long. It was exhausting having to adjust to something new all the damn time. Sam was tired of it.

It was in the middle of a yawn, that's when the shove came. Sam's hand was a hand dragging down his face, thinking about the lumpy motel bed with a certain amount of longing.

"Hey Wizz-chester."

Sam's brain rolled it's eyes. Wow, never heard that one before.

Turning, Sam irately took in the two boys who had descended upon him, a pair of grunts with a combined IQ of ninety, if they were lucky. He recognized them as eighth graders, one of them Alice Mercer struggled to tutor in every subject possible. It would've been easier to teach a rock to do somersaults.

"What do you want?"

"Is it true you're Dean Winchester's brother?" One of them asked, lips baring to reveal a pair of crooked teeth encased in metal.

"Well nothing gets past you two," Sam muttered, turning to walk away from the geniuses. He could feel himself losing brain cells just being in their presence.

"Hey! Don't walk away from us!" One of them grabbed Sam by the shoulder and dragged him back to the duo.

"I'll repeat it slowly this time: what do you want?" Sam enunciated the words patronizingly, a tone neither of the boys picked up on.

"Is it true your brother has banged Alice Mercer?"

They didn't wait for Sam to respond before continuing. "Because we've been hearing rumors that the new guy from the high school managed to get into her pants. We were wondering if your brother would be interested in showing us his ways." Sam scoffed at how reverently these idiots spoke of Dean. These were the kind of subspecies apes his brother inspired.

"Not even my brother could help you idiots. You guys are better just screwing yourselves-or each other." With that, Sam turned with a certain finality, until one of the incensed boys grabbed Sam's shoulder and sent a slow-motion fist toward Sam's face.

Hardly breaking a sweat, Sam grabbed the fist and twisted the boy's arm, sending him to his knee. Once down, Sam sent a knee to the boy's face, collapsing him to the ground. The other ran at Sam stupidly, who he clotheslined and then kicked in the side for good measure.

He stared at the two groaning idiots before turning on his way.

Sam couldn't seem to recall why he wasn't allowed to walk back to the motel alone.

In the middle of his geometry problem set, the phone between the two beds rang. Sam sat for a moment and waited until the third ring before picking it up. "Yeah?"

"Sammy."

"Dad," he sighed, one hand twirling the chewed on pencil. He squinted at the challenge problem and scoffed in response.

"I'm going to be the motel in a couple days. Finally killed the last of those sons-of-bitches. Make sure you have everything packed by this weekend. There's another case and I want to get on the road."

"Yes, sir," Sam intoned robotically.

"Is Dean there? I want to talk to him."

"Uh...Dean's not here right now." Sam looked around the empty motel room, partially expecting Dean to pop up at his father's voice.

"Where is he?"

"At the store, buying food for tonight."

"Okay...well, write down this number and have him call me after nine o' clock tonight." Sam jotted down the number and once told his father he would pass on the order to Dean.

When the call ended, Sam set the phone back in the cradle and slowly dragged his eyes over the sad, empty motel that part of him felt comfortable enough to call home. The room was in a horrid state-as they never let the maids to come in-piles of trash in the corners of the room, grains of salt caught in the cracks of wood, silver objects hidden under deflated pillows. The whole place reeked of pizza crusts and holy water-which surprisingly had a very distinct, thin smell to it.

But it was just another room. There was nothing particularly special about this one. It wasn't tackily decorated, but also wasn't one of the nicer ones. It was a room Sam was prone to forget in a few weeks time.

To him, the motel, the school, and just the entire experience in Broken Bow was underwhelming, not something worth remembering.

Dinner that night made Alice want to jump off a cliff.

Sherry Mercer pulled a flaky, dry meatloaf out of the oven as Alice-now in clothing her mother found more appropriate-took a seat and glared harshly into the warped wood table. Her father, James Mercer, already sat at the head of the table, face hidden behind a newspaper, as per usual.

"Jim," Sherry muttered sweetly, with a sick timbre, "Put the newspaper away."

"Sure. Let me just finish this article. Really fascinating stuff. It's about-" There was the sound of ripping and crumpling paper as Sherry wrenched the object from her husband's hands. She threw it, which didn't go far, but fell to the ground with a thump, like a small bird.

"No reading at the table." Three glasses, plates, and sets of silverware were slammed down on the table. There was a final ring as the steaming tin the meatloaf was in found its way to the middle of the table.

"Sherry...is something wrong?" Jim Mercer cautiously slid the plate closer to himself.

"Ask your daughter if you're so curious."

Jim's eyes swiveled to Alice. In a rare occasion, he made eye contact with her. "Alice? What's she talking about?"

Hands gripped the table, Alice glared at her mother. "She's probably referring the boy I've been seeing. Mom claims that's why I've been acting not like myself."

Jim Mercer frowned. "You're seeing a boy?"

"No," Sherry offered. "Alice is just fooling around with him. I've seen him, Jim. You need to tell Alice to focus on her schoolwork."

"Well, I haven't noticed Alice acting any differently," Jim offered. He then made eye contact with Alice for a few seconds. "You should probably do what your mother says and stop seeing the boy if that's affecting your schoolwork."

"It's not affecting my schoolwork," Alice muttered, wishing very deeply she had a sibling to draw some attention away from her

"I don't want you seeing that boy," Sherry snapped back. She slapped a dehydrated piece of meat on Alice's plate.

"It's not Dean's fault I feel like this!" The clinking of silverware stopped and both parents stared at their daughter like she had grown a second head. This wasn't the girl either of them were used to seeing.

"'Dean?' Well you tell 'Dean' to-"

"Tell him what Mom? Why don't you tell him? I don't have anything I need to say to him!"

"Alice…" Jim started.

"What, Dad? You always take her side." Standing up from the table, Alice shoved the chair in forcefully. "You two always act like I'm the worst daughter ever. If I do one thing wrong you act like I went and got arrested or something. You guys don't know how lucky you are. I'm such a good kid. I've done everything you told me to do and always kept my mouth shut."

Sherry's face was a bright red, jaw clenched. Jim's eyes were wide, his full attention on Alice.

"So this is what's gonna happen," Alice informed, taking up an uncompromising tone. "I'm going to keep seeing Dean. But, I'll do everything else you say. I'll stay on top of my schoolwork, tutor more, apply where you want me to apply, go where you want me to go, do what you want me to do, eat what you want me to eat, and be the way you want me to be." She stopped, hands gripped painfully. "But I'm going to take this one thing."

And with that, Alice grabbed her coat the was near the back door and stormed past the kitchen table, through the living room to the front hall.

Up from the table, Sherry sent out a warning. "Alice Francine, you better not walk out of this house. So help me God-" There was a powerful slam that shook the entire house, sending Sherry back into her chair.

The couple sat in silence for a moment. Sherry eventually stood and began to forcefully gather everything laid out on the table. She carelessly placed the clean cutlery and plates in the sink. With a certain level of finality, she took the tray the meatloaf was in and dumped it on top of everything in the sink.

"Sherry," Jim mumbled, still contemplating everything that happened, glancing back at the crumpled newspaper on the ground.

"Don't. Just don't. You can't take my side, huh? Not even once? Nice, James, real nice."

"Sherry, come on." Jim finally stood up from the table and went over to wrap Sherry in a hug.

With a shove, Sherry sent him away. "Don't you dare."

Once Jim was alone in the kitchen, he stared at everything and wondered how he went from a peaceful family meal with his wife and daughter, to standing alone in a kitchen in complete disarray.

He'd obviously missed something. Jim Mercer just wasn't sure what.

Dean had stopped at the room briefly, just to make sure Sammy was okay. He'd apologized for not walking him back earlier that day, to which Sam replied he didn't need to be walked back to the room.

Feeling slightly guilty, Dean said he was going out for awhile but promised to bring Sam back curly fries, at the younger boy's coerced request.

That was also when Sam informed Dean their father would be returning in a few days.

In the quiet, foggy streets of Broken Bow, Dean walked, hands buried deeply in his pockets. It was the kind of setting that Dean could easily see someone smoking a cigarette as they pensively contemplated life. But Dean had tried cigarettes a handful of times and hated it. And he certainly wasn't going to pensively contemplate life like some pansy. He was going to just walk.

Now Dean didn't believe in fate, but he sure didn't believe in coincidences either, so when a pale figure appearing over the curve of the earth, hair dewy from the mist, and a halo effect from the soft lights crowning her head, he didn't really know what to think.

She didn't notice him, her head was down, hands swinging furiously at her sides.

"Alice."

Looking up, the girl didn't seem all the surprised to see Dean wandering the streets at such a time, right in the path she was walking.

Not wasting any time, Alice purposefully walked towards him and placed her hands on either side of his face. She leaned in and gave him the slowest, most sensual kiss he had possibly ever received. Leaning back, she smiled slightly, any remnant of anger gone. "Perfect."

"What are you doing out here?" Dean asked, slightly out of breath.

"Just walking and thinking."

"You probably shouldn't be walking alone this late at night."

Alice laughed a bit. "Nothing happens in Broken Bow. And you really want to talk about why I'm out here?" She leaned him and kissed him again. "Well?"

"Oh God no," Dean growled in her ear. He picked her up suddenly, causing her to laugh in merriment, both forgetting the events of the day.

It was the Friday after school, and Sam was back in the Broken Bow Middle School Library. He hadn't bothered to tell anyone he was leaving, teacher or student. Maybe people would notice on Monday, but by Friday, perhaps people would try to convince themselves Sam Winchester had just been a collective figment of everyone's imagination.

Looking around the quaint little library, Sam was one of the only four people there. A librarian lounged at the checkout desk, flipping through a glossy magazine. A young boy with bad teeth and a bruised ego sat a few tables away, struggling to grasp the concept of the Pythagorean theorem. Leaning over his shoulder was a girl who could be considered quite stunning now. Her hair was curled, makeup done nicely. The dress and tights she wore made her look well put together.

"No. C-squared does not equal just b-squared. Here…" Alice bent lower over the paper to help the boy that was busy staring at her face as she crossed something out on the page.

Listening with one ear, Sam half-read some YA book he'd pulled off a random shelf. He couldn't even make sense of what was going on, but carefully closed the book, when the boy being tutored thanked Alice and hugged her goodbye for a little too long, giving Sam a smug and fearful look at the same time, as he exited the library.

When the boy was finally gone, Sam rose as Alice was busy collecting her things.

"Alice Mercer?"

Spinning around, she smiled at Sam. "Sam, right?"

He nodded.

"What's up? You need help with something? Dean always told me you were really smart."

"There's something I need to tell you," Sam blurted, feeling something inside him twist at the sight of Alice's expectant face.

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