When the Cradle Falls
Chapter Eight: Tango and Duo
He wasn't completely upright, even John Winchester, himself could admit he wasn't completely in balance, completely sober. John leaned heavily against a mothball-scented couch, the volume of his voice hurting his own head. "You told me three days Dean. It was three days YESTERDAY!" He knew it had been a bad idea to let his seventeen-year-old son to go on a hunt by himself, but Dean had caught John on a day when he was a happy drunk, which rarely happened. In a cloudy state, John reasoned Dean had watched Sam his entire life, proven himself to be a capable, level headed hunter, and had gotten his GED, so why not?
John was sorely regretting this decision now.
"Sir, I know. I just need a couple more days. The spirit-"
"Damn it Dean, I want you back here tonight." John slammed a fist down on the couch.
"Look, Dad, I can't just leave the-"
"That's a direct order, Dean. I guess I was wrong about you being able to handle a hunt by yourself."
Dean was silent for a moment. "Yes sir, but please just give me a chance to kill the spirit. Please. I promise I won't let you down. Dad, please let me do this. I'll clean weapons for the next three months if you let me. Please." It was strange to hear Dean beg. Even inebriated John could tell Dean was really yearning for this chance.
Scrubbing a hand over the several days' scruff, John blew a hot breath into the hand and tried to banish the image of Mary burning on the ceiling. That was the first thing that came to mind when he thought of her. It took a few seconds of orange flames before John could picture her in anything but that white nightgown with the bloody stain on the front.
"Make it five months," John sighed, completely forcing away any thought of Mary.
There was a gasp of appreciation. "Thanks Dad!" Dean chirped maybe a little too happily and hung up the phone.
It was a few moments later John realized he was face down on the couch. Not remembering how he ended up in such a position, the man swung himself up and found a wide eyed Sam edging around the partition that divided the beds from the kitchenette.
"Go to bed, Sammy," John slurred. He looked down at the half empty bottle of whiskey in his hand, wondering when that got there.
Sam just continued to stare at his father; eyes going from the bottle, to John's face.
"Is Dean not coming back?"
"He's still hunting the damn ghost," John replied, taking another swig from the drink.
"Dad, maybe you should go to bed," Sam suggested.
"You go to bed. Don't you have school tomorrow?"
"It's Saturday, Dad."
"Don't be a smartass, Samuel."
"No sir, didn't mean to be," Sam responded robotically, clenching his jaw while staring determinedly at the ground.
John took another long swig and gestured to his son. "Was there something else you needed?" He was totally unaware of the razor edge that hitched itself to the tone of his voice.
The youngest Winchester's eyes grew wide and hopeful, as an unexplained desire embedded itself within Sam's heart. But Sam noticed his father's stone cold eyes and the slowly dwindling supply of alcohol. "No sir."
"Then go to bed." John Winchester flopped back on the couch, eyes shutting.
He stayed. He fought to stay, but he stayed.
Lying in bed with a ruffle comforter, Dean suddenly shot up in bed, clutching at his heart, and peering at the menacingly blank ceiling. Blank like in art canvas. It was in the middle of the night, Dean sprinted up from the guest room Jan had let him stay in. He barged into Cara's room, the door banging.
Carefully, Dean leaned over the baby's crib, his hands curling around the dark wood bars. She was on her back, head turned to the side, one hand delicately curled near her small cupid's bow lips. He watched her chest rise and fall several times.
There was a gasp from behind him. Alice barreled into the room, in a flannel nightshirt and matching pants, hair half out of a ponytail. "Dean? What the hell is going on?" Half conscious, Alice came up next to him and put a hand to Cara's forehead. "Is something wrong? Is she okay? I heard the door slam and didn't know what it was."
"How old is she?"
"Huh?" Alice couldn't understand why Dean was asking that. She rubbed her eyes and yawned.
"How old is Cara?"
"What are you talking about?" Alice demanded, feelings of irritation creeping into her.
"Damn it, Allie, how old is Cara?"
"She just turned seven months old! Why? What's wrong?"
Dean suddenly slumped to the floor, back against the crib bars. Seven months. The six month mark had passed and no yellow eyed demon had cursed his daughter and burned her mother, like had been done to Sammy and Mom. Maybe his family wasn't cursed, just unlucky.
He shook his head and stood up. Not thinking, he bent over and kissed Alice on the forehead. "Nothing's wrong. Everything's fine, I swear. Sorry for waking you. Try and get some sleep."
Alice stared after him in worry, and then got up. She stood over her daughter and just watched the sweet little thing sleep. God knew Allie wasn't going to.
They sat in Allie's car after going out to dinner like two adults. They were parallel parked along a dark, rain-slicked residential street, around the block from the Italian restaurant.
It had been a nice, quaint meal. They hadn't talked about anything but superficial topics. After all, Dean was leaving the next morning to return to his father and brother. Both had avoided the subject even though the dinner had become sort of a farewell event.
Suddenly deciding not to drive away, Alice put the car back into park and turned fully to face Dean. Something had been gnawing at her mind and she couldn't let it rest anymore. She'd been able to refrain during dinner, but now, the atmosphere was somber and burnt out.
"You know, you scared the hell out of me last night."
Dean shrugged sheepishly. He tried to smile but ended up grimacing around the movement. "Yeah. Sorry about that."
She furrowed her brow, not content to leave the situation there. "But why did you need to know how old she was? You were really panicked."
He chuckled nervously and glanced at his reflection in the window of the car. Alice was still staring at him intently. "It was just a crazy dream I head. Really Allie, it's fine."
He always did this—she knew he kept secrets and she let him have his secrets. "Fine. It's fine. I'm just glad you're here. Even if it's for one more night." She paused for a moment. "But her birthday is July twelfth, by the way."
The two settled into a slowly comfortable silence while Alice munched on a leftover breadstick. She reclined her seat, slightly, relaxing a bit. Dean wanted to ask her what would happen now, but she looked so peaceful, and natural, eating a cold breadstick in a car of all things and still looking damn good.
How did this happen? How did Dean go from a renegade playboy to someone with a daughter, gazing at amazement in the woman that brought the child into this world? He swore he'd never fall for a girl like that.
But he had.
It was Alice. It was all Alice.
He'd never needed a push to sail towards her. She was so unaware of how magnetic her pull was, but Dean crashed right into her and had felt her absence a little bit now and again, even if he wouldn't admit it.
"Allie," Dean said suddenly. Surprised, some crumbs from the breadstick fell on her lap. She brushed them out and turned her attention to Dean.
"Sorry. What were you saying?"
With less bravado, he began again. "How do you think this happened to us?"
She looked worried. "Care to elaborate?"
"How this whole thing happened? I was the wayward punk at school and you were the shy good girl. How did the two of us ever possibly fall together so easily?"
She shrugged.
"Really, though, Alice. I mean, think about it: I seduced you with a few lines from that one boring Shakespeare play and you were like putty in my hands." He rephrased himself when he saw the indignant look in her eyes. "Maybe I'm sounding blunt, but before me, your longest relationship had been a few months and you'd only ever been felt over the clo—"
"Painfully aware, Dean. And you didn't seduce me, FYI. But you want to know why I slept with you?"
He nodded, refraining from making any smartass comment.
Helplessly, she motioned around at nothing in particular. "I don't really know, honestly. I've always tried to rationalize it, but I never can. I mean I was terrified of you and didn't trust you because you were so different and confident and just had a dangerous edge to yourself. Yet, I allowed myself to sleep with you.
"I always thought I'd wait to have sex until marriage but that was something I said because my parents always believed that. But Dean, you came along and broke that. You broke me, but in a good way I think.
"I told myself 'okay, Alice, you're going to do something wild and crazy but you're not going to get attached because you know what kind of guy this Dean character is.' I was careful not to get attached.
"Then I wound up pregnant and that honestly seemed like the perfect excuse to end it. I told myself you wouldn't be the type of guy to stick around. Even if you were to leave now I would understand. I wanted to run from myself for the longest time during the nine months.
"My parents sent me away a few months along when I finally started showing. They told everyone I had an aunt that was sick and I was going to live with her to take care of her. They were so ashamed of me, Dean.
"And God knows I love my aunt, but she's an odd one and I can't seem to relate to her.
"But, now, I have a beautiful daughter and I'm happy, but for some reason, I wanted you back, not only for Cara, but selfishly for myself.
"Dean, you were always respected me—" He remembered slightly differently. "—and was always kind to me. You never let me down and regardless of what other people say to you-or what I said about you-you're good. I'm sorry if I ever told you otherwise."
He tried not to think about the fact she never gave him a chance to let her down. That was good.
Alice frowned for a minute. "But, I can't think so selfishly anymore. I have a child I have to think of. The motherly part of me says I never should have told you about Cara because how is that fair to her. I know it's not fair to you-actually, maybe part you never wanted to know. You're still young and have the whole world ahead of you." Dean wanted to protest, but she wasn't entirely wrong. He still wasn't sure how to explain what he was feeling.
"The same part that wants to keep you from her for her own sake. I never thought I'd be a single teen mom raising a girl who would never know her dad. I could spin it that you left when I told you I was pregnant, but I would be lying to her. I could tell her I never told you-that was true until now. I could tell her I forbid you from seeing her, but you wanted to. Or I could let you be a small part of her life and flit in and out as I know you will. Whichever way, she'll end up resenting one of us or both of us. I'm just trying to figure out which was causes the least amount of pain for her. Dean, Cara's needs come first every time now."
Dean licked his lips. "Alice, I agree with you. That little girl comes first. Now, I'm not saying we need to figure out what to do exactly right now. But what I'm saying is, you still have needs and they still matter."
Ever-knowing, Alice clicked her tongue and looked away in disappointment. "I don't know what I want from you and I feel it's unfair for you to have to deal with me being so bipolar about so many things."
He put a hand on her shoulder. "It's a different situation." He stared at her intently. "Maybe we can be different people this time."
She smiled softly, seeming to accept his offer.
For awhile, the Dean and Alice forgot they two teens in a 1984 green car outside a fake Italian restaurant that had red and white checkered table cloths made of paper. The two even forgot the little lifeline that held them together, sleeping peacefully in a crib, a few miles away.
It was just as the first time, as sweet and as tender and naive.
Unlike the first time, they thought they knew, but like the first time, they would learn they didn't.
This chapter kind of jumped around a little bit. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy and review.