Croatoan part 3/?
Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters belong to eric kripke and the cw
Warnings: Not much, showering Dean, Two deaths, and mentioning of attempted suicide
Parts: One, Two
Dean pulled the shower curtains back, steams still rolling in the air, and grabbed the towel that sat on the rack. He felt clean, and was sure that he had rubbed off at least three layers of dirt before he reached skin. It felt good to be clean and his pores could breathe once again.
He ran the towel through his hair, and picked up the clean set of clothes that he brought up from the car. He tugged on the last article of clothing and stared at himself in the mirror. The stubble on his cheeks was growing darker and he ran his hand down his face and neck, scratching just over his Adams apple as he went. He grabbed his toothbrush off the counter, ran it quickly over his teeth, and set it back down. Dean no longer bothered to spike his hair up slightly like he used to. There wasn’t really anyone he needed to impress, and the trouble of looking for hair gel wasn’t worth the risks. He exited the bathroom, walked over to the couch, and tried the television. Nothing. He looked around and noticed that Alice, who was sitting at the desk hunched over a few papers, was working by candle light.
“What’s up with the electricity?” he asked clicking the remote once more before giving up and setting down on the arm of the couch.
“I told you, didn't I? Power's only on for twelve hours. It was the only sure fire way to save electricity for more than a few years. It comes on at nine in the morning, and goes off at nine at night,” she informed, not bothering to look over her shoulder.
“Oh, okay. That makes sense I guess,” Dean said before he got up and walked back to his room.
Alex and Jeremy had retired to their room, and through the thin walls, Dean could hear one of them snoring lightly. He smiled to himself and wondered just what these kids’ stories were. He had to know.
“Hey, what are you working on?” Dean asked as he leaned a shoulder on the nearest wall, placing his hands in his jacket.
“Uhmm, just some Latin for school. The teacher is a total jerk, and gives us way too much homework,” Alice said with a disgruntled huff. She sat up from her hunched position and stretched her arms, swiveling in her chair and facing Dean. “It’s not fun, but it’s kind of cool to see where all our English roots came from,” she added while slightly smiling at Dean.
“Latin? You guys have to learn Latin, why?” Dean asked, a confused look spreading across his face.
“Well, it helps with exorcisms, and it makes them a lot easier to translate. Well, that’s the reason my teacher gives us,” Alice responded, twirling her pen between her forefinger and thumb.
“Why would you need exorcisms,” Dean began, “the demons got the hell out of dodge years ago; they all went back to Hell.” He said it like he was remember the exact day the earth was sucked free of all demons. “I guess the Croatoan-enraged earth was scarier than Hell itself.” He added before pushing himself off the wall, and walking towards Alice. Alice’s eyes just followed him, not sure if there was much else she could do.
“Yeah,” she said, still following Dean with her eyes as he approached her and looked at the work she had lain out. There were symbols and sigils everywhere, and quite a few papers coated in Latin. “We know the demons left, but that doesn’t mean they won’t be back. If and when they do decide to return to earth, this generation will be ready for them,” she said turning back to her work, Dean still looking over her shoulder. He stayed where he stood and continued to watch Alice work, curious about what exactly she was writing. He knew bits and pieces of Latin, but his brother was the one usually doing all the exorcisms.
He cleared his throat. “So, uh, what’s up with daycare over here?” Dean asked, jutting his thumb behind him.
“What, you mean the kids?” Alice asked, still trying to focus on her Latin.
“Yeah, the kids, How’d you find yourself responsible for both of them, because to be honest, I’m not really seeing the family resemblance,” Dean said, raising an eyebrow.
Alice laughed. A good, honest to God laugh, and Dean had to smile at that.
“Alex and Jeremy aren’t my family, but they’re the only two people that I can find myself loving and actually caring about right now. Without the rest of the world around, I knew two kids, especially their age wouldn’t survive much,” Alice said, giving up on her homework and turning in her chair to face Dean, who looked like he was really interested in hearing her back-story. “So I knew I couldn’t just let them die, or worse, so I took each of them in.”
“Are Jeremy and Alex related?” Dean asked, looking back quickly and then seating himself in the lounge-chair that was seated next to his foot. “Because there isn’t really any resemblance there either,” he said.
“Hah, no, they’re not related either. I found Jeremy a few years before I found Alex,” Alice stated, rubbing the back of her neck.
“How’d you come across two kids at different times that were both clean, and didn’t run from you, thinking you were a Croat?” he asked, obviously trying to piece it together himself.
“Man, you ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” Alice joked, straight-faced. Dean looked at her, and smiled.
“Well, that’s what I do,” he said in an equally joking tone.
“How about tomorrow, we swap stories when Jeremy and Alex fall asleep. I don’t usually sleep much, too paranoid, and if it’s good for you, it’s good for me,” she said. Dean nodded his head in approval, and looked at his feet. It had been a long time since he had told anyone about his life. He didn’t know how this was going to turn out, but he knew it was important.
The next day went on like normal; Dean pacing the house trying to find something to do, Alex bothering Jeremy until he gave in and played with her, and Alice working her Latin translation, and deciding to study some demonology just because she had the extra time. Dean ended up talking to Alice about his first-hand encounters with demons in his life, and Alice being who she is, took notes. He made a comment about her being a nerd like his brother was, and Alice saw the tinge of pain in his eyes as he talked about his lost brother.
It was ten thirty by the time the two younger children had fallen asleep, and by then the house was cast into the dim light of a few well-placed candles. The talk Alice and Dean promised each other would take place here. Dean was seated on the couch, Alice in the desk chair, facing him. Both looked down at their feet, Alice tapped her foot lightly as Dean picked something off the toe of his boot. He could only deal with the silence for so long before he cleared his throat and looked up at Alice.
"So, what's up with the kids?" he asked. The words hit the tensed air like a freight train, cracking the silence, and making Alice twitch in her seat nervously. Something about Dean made it seem like he'd interrogated many people, and a few not-so-human things.
Alice looked up from her shoes and shifted in her chair. "Well," she started, "I found Jeremy first. It was just after the major Croat outbreak died off, the tail-end of 2013, and I was out on a supply run. It was just me, and I was walking down the street and I just saw this kid," Alice stopped and looked at her hands, picking at her nail. "He lived in my old neighborhood. I'd seen him around before, and he was a really nice kid. But he was just wandering, like it was completely normal. He had his head down and he was dirty, obviously didn't have any weapons on him, and his clothes were torn to hell. I felt bad for him. I couldn't just leave him to starve to death, or get torn apart by the Croats, so I invited him in, told him he could live with me if he wanted because I had food and clean water. So that's how I ended up with him. And he's cool, pulls his own weight, so that's good too. Alex's story wasn't as simple." Alice paused, exhaling deeply like she was dreading the next half of the tale. Dean gave her a sympathetic look.
"It's alright, you don't have to...." Dean trailed off, not sure how to reassure the young girl.
"No, it's fine," Alice stated, looking up from her nails, carding a hand through her darkish hair, and looking Dean right in the face. "It was the next year, maybe the middle of twenty fourteen, and I had finished locking up the rest of the neighborhood. I was going to the houses a block over to see if they had anything worth raiding. I had just kicked in a door when I heard the screaming. It was obviously an adult, maybe in her late thirties. She was screaming like someone was trying to murder her, and in this day and age someone probably was, so I ran towards the sound. I was lucky enough to have an assault rifle with me." Dean gave a strange look at the idea of a fifteen year old running around with an assault rifle.
"You have an assault rifle?" he asked, sitting upright in surprise.
"Yeah, it was my dad’s favorite gun. They were inseparable," she clarified. "Anyways, so I get up to this house, and I can hear this woman screaming, so I opened the door. The first thing I see is a man lying on the floor, neck torn open, his blood splattered across the floor. It wasn't something most kids my age would handle well, but, I'm not most kids. So I just kind of... scooted passed the poor dead man and moved on towards the source of the sound, which, apparently, was coming from the kitchen. I turn, right, and I see this woman, running around, trying to escape this bloodied man. She looked terrified, and I felt horrible for her. She climbed onto her table and just as the guy was about to grab her, I put a bullet through his brain, right through the Medulla," she pointed to the back of her head, "He was gone before he hit the floor. I was about to help the lady down when I saw her neck. It had a few scratches on it, and some blood surrounding the wounds. I looked back at her eyes and they were starting to get that yellowish tinge," Alice paused. "I knew it was already too late for the lady too. As if she wasn't scared enough. In barges this random kid who shoots down a man, and then raises a gun to her. I shot her with my eyes closed; the sound of her dead body hitting the floor in front of my feet was vivid enough for me. I left them, all three of them, where they had hit the floor. I turned my back, and I was about to leave when I heard the faint crying. It was coming from upstairs, and as I went up, the crying got louder. It was obviously a young kid, you know how they have that certain sound to them, so when I reached the door the crying was coming from, I knew I had to see who it was, and see if they were infected."
Alice scratched her arm and looked at the hallway to make sure no one was up, and then turned her attention back to Dean.
"I tried the door, and it was locked. Whoever was on the other end of the door was probably already scared enough, so I
picked the lock. On the other side was this little girl. It was Alex. She was in the corner of her room, crying. I went up to her real slow and just sort of started to talk to her. Like not really saying anything important, just trying to get her to calm down. I told her my name, and told her she should come with me. It's funny just how trusting kids are, even in a time like now. She finally agreed to go with me so I slid my rifle behind my back on its strap, picked her up, and made her put her head down into my shoulder. She stayed there and I carried her back here. She's barley left since then." Alice looked back down at her hands and continued picking at her hand.
"How old was she when you found her?" Dean asked. His voice pulled Alice's head up from where it hung.
"She was two, two and a half, I was fifteen," Alice said, thinking about the answer carefully. "It took her two weeks to tell me her name. And once she saw she had a new big brother, she was perfectly fine. Jeremy took to her well, always looked after her like it was his job, and I'm glad he cares about her. It's nice to have an extra hand helping with child care, ya'know?"
"Huh. That's pretty young, but at least she's happy. Whatever trauma she had seems to be fixing itself by now," Dean observed, he brought his hand to his mouth and bit his thumb around the nail in thought.
"So what about you," Alice began. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?"
Deans head immediately dropped, his hand falling to his knees, and his feet shuffled under him. He huffed, clearing his throat. One hand came up and he rubbed his neck.
"One sec," Alice said. She stood up from her spot on the desk chair and walked into the kitchen, grabbing an old candle-lit lamp off one of the speakers as she went. Dean watched her as she stood in front of the sink, went on her toes, and grabbed a bottle out of the top shelf. She took down to small cups with it, and poured the liquid into the cups. When she returned to the room, she placed the cup in Dean’s hand.
"Drink," she said. She raised her glass in cheers and put it to her mouth, face twisting as the smooth liquid went down. Dean gave her a suspicious look before raising the glass to his nose. As he took a breath, the familiar smell of hard liquor rose to his nose. He sighed in contentment and took a sip of the whiskey. It went down smooth, and was a bit sweet. He half-smiled and rested the glass on his left knee. "So," Alice said. Dean could just make out a raised eyebrow. He sighed.
"So I had a brother. He was just a few years younger than me, and I always felt like he was my responsibility. With the kind of work my dad did, we were kind of on our own; I was the only one around to look out for him."
"Huh, I know what you mean. My dad’s work took us around, and my mom died when I was young so...." Alice smiled slightly.
"Yeah, so I just looked after him a lot. When we were kids, while we grew up, when we were grown. I was practically watching of for the kid until..." Dean trailed of, lowering his head, and taking another sip of whiskey.
Alice almost felt bad for Dean. He obviously missed his brother and this conversation probably wasn't helping.
"What was his name?" Alice asked, raising her glass again. It just struck Dean that he was drinking whiskey with a fifteen year old girl. He let the under-age drinking slide.
"Sam, his name was Sam," Dean threw back his head and finished what was left of his whiskey. Alice held out her hand and he placed the cup in it. She stood and instead of just refilling it, she brought the entire bottle into the living room where
she and Dean were talking.
"Sam..." Alice said quietly. Her brow furrowed in confusion and she turned back to Dean. "What did you say your last name was, again?" Dean shook his head.
"I didn't," he replied, looking at Alice with confusion. She sat upright in her chair, placing the whiskey glass on the desk to her right.
"It wouldn't be Winchester, would it?" she asked slowly, like any word could set off a bomb.
"Yeah, actually," Dean replied, discomfort rising in his voice.
"No way," Alice said. A smile spread across her face and she shifted in her chair. "Man, I've only heard like, legends about you guys. Sam and Dean Winchester; the fearless warriors of this Earth. My dad used to tell me about you guys, how even though you were so young, you wouldn't ever give up. You proved to me that families could hunt together. You inspired me to find every evil thing lurking in the dark, grab hold of it, and kick its ass." The excitement in Alice's voice ebbed off. "Holy crap," she exhaled quietly, sadness flooding her eyes. "Oh crap man. Your brother, Sam, he was..." Dean nodded.
"He was Lucifer's vessel, I was Michael's. When I told Michael to stick it where the sun don't shine, he was pretty bent on kicking my ass. Luckily, I had an angel who was a friend. He said he could hide me out for a while. The only problem is I couldn't tell anyone where I was, and that included Sammy," Dean shook his head in regret. "The kid flipped out, started screaming at Michael, and started hitting the tequila pretty heavy; he was a pretty big mess. And I couldn't do a damned thing about it." Alice could hear the anger rising in Deans voice, and she knew he regretted leaving his younger brother. "I sat around in complete safety while my brother was basically tearing apart the face of the earth looking for me. It finally became too much and he accepted he fact that I was gone. He said yes to Lucifer in Detroit, and in October, Lucifer put the Croatian virus in everything possible. My brother was gone, and Lucifer had taken his place. After that I tried to say yes to Michael, I tried to get him to come back to fight the devil but all the angels had left. They were done with this planet, probably shagged ass to Pandora or something. Anyways, I laid low for a long time. After the worst of the hits had died down and the U.S. was done bombing the crap out of all the major cities, I decided that I should probably get going; see if I could find any place that had decent civilization," he paused, took another shot of whiskey, and returned to his story. "I may have been in hiding, but I wasn't living under a rock. I had heard whispers about this safe camp in Oregon. That's where I was heading before I ran into you," Dean said before drinking the rest of his whiskey and placing the empty glass on the floor next to his feet. Alice mirrored his actions and rubbed her hands together.
"I have the next week of school off," she started, raising her hands above her head in a much needed stretch. "How about we finish our stories then?" Dean liked that idea. He was getting sleepy from the whiskey coursing through his system, even though the three cups he drank wasn't enough to get him even close to a buzz.
They both stood and Alice waved a hand behind her as she walked into her room, closing her door as she disappeared into the shadows. For some reason, the sleepy kid made him smile as he retired to his own room, plopping onto the bed with a content huff.
Three days went on like that. Dean and Alex talked about their lives, sharing stories on just how they grew up. Dean told about his father and how he was raised in the hunting life, and Alice countered, informing Dean on how her dad was the same way, never letting her really be a kid, always talking about how hunting was the number one priority. They compared similarities, like the death of both of their mothers, and contrasted differences, like how Alice was an only child.
Dean ranted on and on about his old beloved car, a 1967 Chevrolet four-door Impala. With a black paint job and a cream finish, it was a thing of beauty. Alice talked about her dads mustang. Red body paint and custom tuck and roll leather. She told about how her and her father built it from the ground up, and how she obsessed over it until she took it apart to create a panic room downstairs.
"Wait, you built a panic room out of a car," Dean asked, cocking an eyebrow and sitting up.
"Yep, well part of the room was made out of the car. The rest of it was made out of other scrap metal and broken buildings," she answered in a matter-of-fact sort of tone.
"How'd you even take apart the car?"
"A few blocks down is a fire department. They had those jaws of steel things and I snatched one while on a supply run. It was easy to take the car apart after I got my hands on one of those bad boys."
Dean smiled and shook his head. "You're awesome, kid," he said.
He asked her how she coped with being on her own and Alice answered honestly.
"Hah," she began, "I'm not even sure if you can call what I did coping. I didn't want to stay in this crap-hole of a world. I did my darnedest to get out." she stopped and looked at her feet, a rueful smile slipping across her lips. She pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and sighed. "I tried, more than once, to end it all, slit my wrists twice. Each time I passed out, but woke up, a small puddle of blood around me, and dried blooded caked to my arms. It wasn't going to work so I made due." her face tightened and she rubbed her wrists. Dean spotted the visible scars, and cringed slightly to himself. He knew the feeling of helplessness that must have run through her. She was so young, and to have to be alone in this post-apocalyptic world must have sucked.
"It's alright," he said. They had taken their regular spots in the living room, Alice in a chair and Dean on the couch. "No child should be put through that crap. It's totally realistic that you would've tried to find a way out." His words of comfort seemed to have little effect on Alice as her head stayed hung and she continued rub her wrist.
"I was weak," she stated. "My dad told me a lot. I don't think he really meant it in a bad way, he was just trying to toughen me up," she sighed and met Deans eyes. "He was a good man, he really was, but when I would get scared on a hunt, or shy away from killing a child-turned-monster, he would tell me that I was weak. That I needed to watch what I used my conscious for before it got me killed. So, I went on, trying to put up a shell. I ended up being able to, but it turned me into something I didn't want to be. It scared me. But I didn't have time to worry about that, because just three months later, the Croats struck, my dad was dead, and I was on my own." She looked down again. Dean rose and put a hand on her shoulder.
"You're not weak," Dean said, "not in any way. Being a hunter has its demands and it takes time to adjust. You did what you could."
"Thanks," Alice said, keeping her head down. She hadn't ever told anyone that story, and it felt good to know that she didn't have to carry the burden alone.
"Anyways, after my breakdown and after I found Alex and Jeremy, I just had a bigger purpose. My mind wasn't wrapped around my own self loathing; it was focused on how to keep these kids safe. So, I guess Alex and Jeremy were a blessing, if you will." Alice stopped and looked up at Dean. He smiled warmly and returned to his spot of the leather couch.
"This whole apocalypse thing wasn't very easy for me either. After Sammy..." he paused, let out a huffed breath, scratched his arm, and continued. "I just didn't know what to do. I cut people out of my life. The few friends that I could have contacted after I was released from my "angels witness protection" I left in the dark. I left without a word and went wandering around. Stayed in a town for no longer than two days. I crashed my Impala and left it sitting there. It's probably still smashed into that same tree. People saw me and didn't know if I was really who I said I was. The few people that did know my face, mostly other hunters, looked at me like I was nothing. From what I had been, to what I was then.... It wasn't even comparable. I was a shell of what I used to be." Dean stopped and looked down at his feet, grabbing the ever-present cup of whiskey and taking a sip. He huffed out a breath and continued. "Every few months I would think about contacting old friends, but old faces bring back old memories. A lot of the people I knew also knew Sam. To go there without him just wouldn't feel right. So I left them out. I finally tried to get in contact with one of my old friends- well l, acquaintances more or less. Found an old beat-to-crap H.A.M. radio and actually got through to him. He told me about a camp they had set up in Oregon. From where I was in Arizona I hotwired a few cars, killed a bunch of Croats, and found some pretty awesome malt liquor. I ran into you and that’s pretty much where I stand now." Dean looked back up at Alice and she was watching intently. She cleared her throat and sat up, sweeping her hand over her own whiskey cup as she went.
"Man," she said after wiping the left over whiskey off her mouth, "I miss family. I've got Alex and Jeremy of course but, I mean..." she trailed off, giving her whiskey glass another tilt. Dean could tell that this child had lost a lot at a young age. If anyone were to know about losing people too soon, it was Dean. "Anyways." she continued, "I have Alex and Jeremy now. So I guess they can be counted as family. I look after them and they look up to me so it couldn't really be called any less."
“That’s a good thing, too,” Dean said. “Family, even if you have to make your own, is the only thing that can keep you going long enough to get out alive or keep you living. It keeps you strong and alert and all those things are going to keep you on your toes. Family brings out the best in you.” Dean finished and took another deep swig from his whiskey glass, setting it down next to his feet and looking Alice dead in the face.
“So, I’m assuming that you’re going to head out after this and try and find that camp that your friends are at, aren’t ya?” Alice asked. She had said it calmly enough but Dean was sharp and picked up on the pang of hurt that sifted its way in and out of her words.
“Do you have a radio, or know where we could find one?” Dean asked, completely ignoring Alice’s previous question. Something in his eyes seemed hard and set and it sent an uncomfortable chill through Alice, like Dean was up to no good.
“Actually, there’s an old H.A.M. in my dads closet. He had a trucker friend who gave it to him in case he needed a favor. They kept in touch, and-“ she was cut off by a rush of words flowing from Dean.
“Great, great, please tell me it still works,” the anticipation in Dean’s voice was thick, like a child getting a new on Christmas morning.
“Uhm, I haven’t tried it in a few years, but yeah, it should still work,” before Alice could finish her sentence, Dean was on his feet, rushing to his room in a quick walk. Alice rose and followed him, reaching the door as Dean pulled open the closet and began to rummage. “It’s at the top of the closet on the,” Alice paused and thought for a moment, “top left. Dean shifted his position accordingly and after a few seconds of rummaging, he pulled down the old H.A.M. and set it on the bed.
“Oh, yes, this is perfect!” he shouted in excitement, another childish grin spreading across his face. He rummaged the cord out from the side and jammed it into the socket. He flipped the switch on the side and tried the mike but nothing happened. He flipped the switch twice more before turning to Alice with a blank and confused look on his face.
“What,” Alice asked, raising her hands from her sides in a confused gesture.
“You said,” Dean paused and gestured to the radio. “You said it worked fine. Why isn’t it working?” Dean feverishly tried the switch again, but the results remained the same.
Alice started laughing lightly and Dean was completely confused.
“What?”
“Dean,” Alice said between chuckles, “the power isn’t on, it’s past nine.” She chuckled again and leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. She sighed lightly “Oh, you should’ve seen the look on your face, man. That was priceless!” She regained her composure and continued. “The power will be on at nine in the morning and then we’ll try out the radio, okay?” she chuckled once more, pushed herself off the doorframe and turned into her room, sending a quiet, “G’night, Dean,” over her shoulder.
Once Alice was out of his room and he was alone, Dean looked down at the H.A.M. radio that resided in his lap. He sat in silence for a moment before throwing a hand over his mouth and laughing at his own ridiculousness. It had been quite some time since he had done something as silly as that, and to laugh at his own quirks felt good. He let the laugh die off to a chuckle before removing his had from his mouth. He set the radio on the floor and curled under the sheets of his bed, not bothering to kick off his shoes or change into any other clothing. That night he dreamed of his little brother, and the field they burned down on July the 4th, of ‘92.
Part Four
Warnings: Not much, showering Dean, Two deaths, and mentioning of attempted suicide
Parts: One, Two
Dean pulled the shower curtains back, steams still rolling in the air, and grabbed the towel that sat on the rack. He felt clean, and was sure that he had rubbed off at least three layers of dirt before he reached skin. It felt good to be clean and his pores could breathe once again.
He ran the towel through his hair, and picked up the clean set of clothes that he brought up from the car. He tugged on the last article of clothing and stared at himself in the mirror. The stubble on his cheeks was growing darker and he ran his hand down his face and neck, scratching just over his Adams apple as he went. He grabbed his toothbrush off the counter, ran it quickly over his teeth, and set it back down. Dean no longer bothered to spike his hair up slightly like he used to. There wasn’t really anyone he needed to impress, and the trouble of looking for hair gel wasn’t worth the risks. He exited the bathroom, walked over to the couch, and tried the television. Nothing. He looked around and noticed that Alice, who was sitting at the desk hunched over a few papers, was working by candle light.
“What’s up with the electricity?” he asked clicking the remote once more before giving up and setting down on the arm of the couch.
“I told you, didn't I? Power's only on for twelve hours. It was the only sure fire way to save electricity for more than a few years. It comes on at nine in the morning, and goes off at nine at night,” she informed, not bothering to look over her shoulder.
“Oh, okay. That makes sense I guess,” Dean said before he got up and walked back to his room.
Alex and Jeremy had retired to their room, and through the thin walls, Dean could hear one of them snoring lightly. He smiled to himself and wondered just what these kids’ stories were. He had to know.
“Hey, what are you working on?” Dean asked as he leaned a shoulder on the nearest wall, placing his hands in his jacket.
“Uhmm, just some Latin for school. The teacher is a total jerk, and gives us way too much homework,” Alice said with a disgruntled huff. She sat up from her hunched position and stretched her arms, swiveling in her chair and facing Dean. “It’s not fun, but it’s kind of cool to see where all our English roots came from,” she added while slightly smiling at Dean.
“Latin? You guys have to learn Latin, why?” Dean asked, a confused look spreading across his face.
“Well, it helps with exorcisms, and it makes them a lot easier to translate. Well, that’s the reason my teacher gives us,” Alice responded, twirling her pen between her forefinger and thumb.
“Why would you need exorcisms,” Dean began, “the demons got the hell out of dodge years ago; they all went back to Hell.” He said it like he was remember the exact day the earth was sucked free of all demons. “I guess the Croatoan-enraged earth was scarier than Hell itself.” He added before pushing himself off the wall, and walking towards Alice. Alice’s eyes just followed him, not sure if there was much else she could do.
“Yeah,” she said, still following Dean with her eyes as he approached her and looked at the work she had lain out. There were symbols and sigils everywhere, and quite a few papers coated in Latin. “We know the demons left, but that doesn’t mean they won’t be back. If and when they do decide to return to earth, this generation will be ready for them,” she said turning back to her work, Dean still looking over her shoulder. He stayed where he stood and continued to watch Alice work, curious about what exactly she was writing. He knew bits and pieces of Latin, but his brother was the one usually doing all the exorcisms.
He cleared his throat. “So, uh, what’s up with daycare over here?” Dean asked, jutting his thumb behind him.
“What, you mean the kids?” Alice asked, still trying to focus on her Latin.
“Yeah, the kids, How’d you find yourself responsible for both of them, because to be honest, I’m not really seeing the family resemblance,” Dean said, raising an eyebrow.
Alice laughed. A good, honest to God laugh, and Dean had to smile at that.
“Alex and Jeremy aren’t my family, but they’re the only two people that I can find myself loving and actually caring about right now. Without the rest of the world around, I knew two kids, especially their age wouldn’t survive much,” Alice said, giving up on her homework and turning in her chair to face Dean, who looked like he was really interested in hearing her back-story. “So I knew I couldn’t just let them die, or worse, so I took each of them in.”
“Are Jeremy and Alex related?” Dean asked, looking back quickly and then seating himself in the lounge-chair that was seated next to his foot. “Because there isn’t really any resemblance there either,” he said.
“Hah, no, they’re not related either. I found Jeremy a few years before I found Alex,” Alice stated, rubbing the back of her neck.
“How’d you come across two kids at different times that were both clean, and didn’t run from you, thinking you were a Croat?” he asked, obviously trying to piece it together himself.
“Man, you ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” Alice joked, straight-faced. Dean looked at her, and smiled.
“Well, that’s what I do,” he said in an equally joking tone.
“How about tomorrow, we swap stories when Jeremy and Alex fall asleep. I don’t usually sleep much, too paranoid, and if it’s good for you, it’s good for me,” she said. Dean nodded his head in approval, and looked at his feet. It had been a long time since he had told anyone about his life. He didn’t know how this was going to turn out, but he knew it was important.
The next day went on like normal; Dean pacing the house trying to find something to do, Alex bothering Jeremy until he gave in and played with her, and Alice working her Latin translation, and deciding to study some demonology just because she had the extra time. Dean ended up talking to Alice about his first-hand encounters with demons in his life, and Alice being who she is, took notes. He made a comment about her being a nerd like his brother was, and Alice saw the tinge of pain in his eyes as he talked about his lost brother.
It was ten thirty by the time the two younger children had fallen asleep, and by then the house was cast into the dim light of a few well-placed candles. The talk Alice and Dean promised each other would take place here. Dean was seated on the couch, Alice in the desk chair, facing him. Both looked down at their feet, Alice tapped her foot lightly as Dean picked something off the toe of his boot. He could only deal with the silence for so long before he cleared his throat and looked up at Alice.
"So, what's up with the kids?" he asked. The words hit the tensed air like a freight train, cracking the silence, and making Alice twitch in her seat nervously. Something about Dean made it seem like he'd interrogated many people, and a few not-so-human things.
Alice looked up from her shoes and shifted in her chair. "Well," she started, "I found Jeremy first. It was just after the major Croat outbreak died off, the tail-end of 2013, and I was out on a supply run. It was just me, and I was walking down the street and I just saw this kid," Alice stopped and looked at her hands, picking at her nail. "He lived in my old neighborhood. I'd seen him around before, and he was a really nice kid. But he was just wandering, like it was completely normal. He had his head down and he was dirty, obviously didn't have any weapons on him, and his clothes were torn to hell. I felt bad for him. I couldn't just leave him to starve to death, or get torn apart by the Croats, so I invited him in, told him he could live with me if he wanted because I had food and clean water. So that's how I ended up with him. And he's cool, pulls his own weight, so that's good too. Alex's story wasn't as simple." Alice paused, exhaling deeply like she was dreading the next half of the tale. Dean gave her a sympathetic look.
"It's alright, you don't have to...." Dean trailed off, not sure how to reassure the young girl.
"No, it's fine," Alice stated, looking up from her nails, carding a hand through her darkish hair, and looking Dean right in the face. "It was the next year, maybe the middle of twenty fourteen, and I had finished locking up the rest of the neighborhood. I was going to the houses a block over to see if they had anything worth raiding. I had just kicked in a door when I heard the screaming. It was obviously an adult, maybe in her late thirties. She was screaming like someone was trying to murder her, and in this day and age someone probably was, so I ran towards the sound. I was lucky enough to have an assault rifle with me." Dean gave a strange look at the idea of a fifteen year old running around with an assault rifle.
"You have an assault rifle?" he asked, sitting upright in surprise.
"Yeah, it was my dad’s favorite gun. They were inseparable," she clarified. "Anyways, so I get up to this house, and I can hear this woman screaming, so I opened the door. The first thing I see is a man lying on the floor, neck torn open, his blood splattered across the floor. It wasn't something most kids my age would handle well, but, I'm not most kids. So I just kind of... scooted passed the poor dead man and moved on towards the source of the sound, which, apparently, was coming from the kitchen. I turn, right, and I see this woman, running around, trying to escape this bloodied man. She looked terrified, and I felt horrible for her. She climbed onto her table and just as the guy was about to grab her, I put a bullet through his brain, right through the Medulla," she pointed to the back of her head, "He was gone before he hit the floor. I was about to help the lady down when I saw her neck. It had a few scratches on it, and some blood surrounding the wounds. I looked back at her eyes and they were starting to get that yellowish tinge," Alice paused. "I knew it was already too late for the lady too. As if she wasn't scared enough. In barges this random kid who shoots down a man, and then raises a gun to her. I shot her with my eyes closed; the sound of her dead body hitting the floor in front of my feet was vivid enough for me. I left them, all three of them, where they had hit the floor. I turned my back, and I was about to leave when I heard the faint crying. It was coming from upstairs, and as I went up, the crying got louder. It was obviously a young kid, you know how they have that certain sound to them, so when I reached the door the crying was coming from, I knew I had to see who it was, and see if they were infected."
Alice scratched her arm and looked at the hallway to make sure no one was up, and then turned her attention back to Dean.
"I tried the door, and it was locked. Whoever was on the other end of the door was probably already scared enough, so I
picked the lock. On the other side was this little girl. It was Alex. She was in the corner of her room, crying. I went up to her real slow and just sort of started to talk to her. Like not really saying anything important, just trying to get her to calm down. I told her my name, and told her she should come with me. It's funny just how trusting kids are, even in a time like now. She finally agreed to go with me so I slid my rifle behind my back on its strap, picked her up, and made her put her head down into my shoulder. She stayed there and I carried her back here. She's barley left since then." Alice looked back down at her hands and continued picking at her hand.
"How old was she when you found her?" Dean asked. His voice pulled Alice's head up from where it hung.
"She was two, two and a half, I was fifteen," Alice said, thinking about the answer carefully. "It took her two weeks to tell me her name. And once she saw she had a new big brother, she was perfectly fine. Jeremy took to her well, always looked after her like it was his job, and I'm glad he cares about her. It's nice to have an extra hand helping with child care, ya'know?"
"Huh. That's pretty young, but at least she's happy. Whatever trauma she had seems to be fixing itself by now," Dean observed, he brought his hand to his mouth and bit his thumb around the nail in thought.
"So what about you," Alice began. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?"
Deans head immediately dropped, his hand falling to his knees, and his feet shuffled under him. He huffed, clearing his throat. One hand came up and he rubbed his neck.
"One sec," Alice said. She stood up from her spot on the desk chair and walked into the kitchen, grabbing an old candle-lit lamp off one of the speakers as she went. Dean watched her as she stood in front of the sink, went on her toes, and grabbed a bottle out of the top shelf. She took down to small cups with it, and poured the liquid into the cups. When she returned to the room, she placed the cup in Dean’s hand.
"Drink," she said. She raised her glass in cheers and put it to her mouth, face twisting as the smooth liquid went down. Dean gave her a suspicious look before raising the glass to his nose. As he took a breath, the familiar smell of hard liquor rose to his nose. He sighed in contentment and took a sip of the whiskey. It went down smooth, and was a bit sweet. He half-smiled and rested the glass on his left knee. "So," Alice said. Dean could just make out a raised eyebrow. He sighed.
"So I had a brother. He was just a few years younger than me, and I always felt like he was my responsibility. With the kind of work my dad did, we were kind of on our own; I was the only one around to look out for him."
"Huh, I know what you mean. My dad’s work took us around, and my mom died when I was young so...." Alice smiled slightly.
"Yeah, so I just looked after him a lot. When we were kids, while we grew up, when we were grown. I was practically watching of for the kid until..." Dean trailed of, lowering his head, and taking another sip of whiskey.
Alice almost felt bad for Dean. He obviously missed his brother and this conversation probably wasn't helping.
"What was his name?" Alice asked, raising her glass again. It just struck Dean that he was drinking whiskey with a fifteen year old girl. He let the under-age drinking slide.
"Sam, his name was Sam," Dean threw back his head and finished what was left of his whiskey. Alice held out her hand and he placed the cup in it. She stood and instead of just refilling it, she brought the entire bottle into the living room where
she and Dean were talking.
"Sam..." Alice said quietly. Her brow furrowed in confusion and she turned back to Dean. "What did you say your last name was, again?" Dean shook his head.
"I didn't," he replied, looking at Alice with confusion. She sat upright in her chair, placing the whiskey glass on the desk to her right.
"It wouldn't be Winchester, would it?" she asked slowly, like any word could set off a bomb.
"Yeah, actually," Dean replied, discomfort rising in his voice.
"No way," Alice said. A smile spread across her face and she shifted in her chair. "Man, I've only heard like, legends about you guys. Sam and Dean Winchester; the fearless warriors of this Earth. My dad used to tell me about you guys, how even though you were so young, you wouldn't ever give up. You proved to me that families could hunt together. You inspired me to find every evil thing lurking in the dark, grab hold of it, and kick its ass." The excitement in Alice's voice ebbed off. "Holy crap," she exhaled quietly, sadness flooding her eyes. "Oh crap man. Your brother, Sam, he was..." Dean nodded.
"He was Lucifer's vessel, I was Michael's. When I told Michael to stick it where the sun don't shine, he was pretty bent on kicking my ass. Luckily, I had an angel who was a friend. He said he could hide me out for a while. The only problem is I couldn't tell anyone where I was, and that included Sammy," Dean shook his head in regret. "The kid flipped out, started screaming at Michael, and started hitting the tequila pretty heavy; he was a pretty big mess. And I couldn't do a damned thing about it." Alice could hear the anger rising in Deans voice, and she knew he regretted leaving his younger brother. "I sat around in complete safety while my brother was basically tearing apart the face of the earth looking for me. It finally became too much and he accepted he fact that I was gone. He said yes to Lucifer in Detroit, and in October, Lucifer put the Croatian virus in everything possible. My brother was gone, and Lucifer had taken his place. After that I tried to say yes to Michael, I tried to get him to come back to fight the devil but all the angels had left. They were done with this planet, probably shagged ass to Pandora or something. Anyways, I laid low for a long time. After the worst of the hits had died down and the U.S. was done bombing the crap out of all the major cities, I decided that I should probably get going; see if I could find any place that had decent civilization," he paused, took another shot of whiskey, and returned to his story. "I may have been in hiding, but I wasn't living under a rock. I had heard whispers about this safe camp in Oregon. That's where I was heading before I ran into you," Dean said before drinking the rest of his whiskey and placing the empty glass on the floor next to his feet. Alice mirrored his actions and rubbed her hands together.
"I have the next week of school off," she started, raising her hands above her head in a much needed stretch. "How about we finish our stories then?" Dean liked that idea. He was getting sleepy from the whiskey coursing through his system, even though the three cups he drank wasn't enough to get him even close to a buzz.
They both stood and Alice waved a hand behind her as she walked into her room, closing her door as she disappeared into the shadows. For some reason, the sleepy kid made him smile as he retired to his own room, plopping onto the bed with a content huff.
Three days went on like that. Dean and Alex talked about their lives, sharing stories on just how they grew up. Dean told about his father and how he was raised in the hunting life, and Alice countered, informing Dean on how her dad was the same way, never letting her really be a kid, always talking about how hunting was the number one priority. They compared similarities, like the death of both of their mothers, and contrasted differences, like how Alice was an only child.
Dean ranted on and on about his old beloved car, a 1967 Chevrolet four-door Impala. With a black paint job and a cream finish, it was a thing of beauty. Alice talked about her dads mustang. Red body paint and custom tuck and roll leather. She told about how her and her father built it from the ground up, and how she obsessed over it until she took it apart to create a panic room downstairs.
"Wait, you built a panic room out of a car," Dean asked, cocking an eyebrow and sitting up.
"Yep, well part of the room was made out of the car. The rest of it was made out of other scrap metal and broken buildings," she answered in a matter-of-fact sort of tone.
"How'd you even take apart the car?"
"A few blocks down is a fire department. They had those jaws of steel things and I snatched one while on a supply run. It was easy to take the car apart after I got my hands on one of those bad boys."
Dean smiled and shook his head. "You're awesome, kid," he said.
He asked her how she coped with being on her own and Alice answered honestly.
"Hah," she began, "I'm not even sure if you can call what I did coping. I didn't want to stay in this crap-hole of a world. I did my darnedest to get out." she stopped and looked at her feet, a rueful smile slipping across her lips. She pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and sighed. "I tried, more than once, to end it all, slit my wrists twice. Each time I passed out, but woke up, a small puddle of blood around me, and dried blooded caked to my arms. It wasn't going to work so I made due." her face tightened and she rubbed her wrists. Dean spotted the visible scars, and cringed slightly to himself. He knew the feeling of helplessness that must have run through her. She was so young, and to have to be alone in this post-apocalyptic world must have sucked.
"It's alright," he said. They had taken their regular spots in the living room, Alice in a chair and Dean on the couch. "No child should be put through that crap. It's totally realistic that you would've tried to find a way out." His words of comfort seemed to have little effect on Alice as her head stayed hung and she continued rub her wrist.
"I was weak," she stated. "My dad told me a lot. I don't think he really meant it in a bad way, he was just trying to toughen me up," she sighed and met Deans eyes. "He was a good man, he really was, but when I would get scared on a hunt, or shy away from killing a child-turned-monster, he would tell me that I was weak. That I needed to watch what I used my conscious for before it got me killed. So, I went on, trying to put up a shell. I ended up being able to, but it turned me into something I didn't want to be. It scared me. But I didn't have time to worry about that, because just three months later, the Croats struck, my dad was dead, and I was on my own." She looked down again. Dean rose and put a hand on her shoulder.
"You're not weak," Dean said, "not in any way. Being a hunter has its demands and it takes time to adjust. You did what you could."
"Thanks," Alice said, keeping her head down. She hadn't ever told anyone that story, and it felt good to know that she didn't have to carry the burden alone.
"Anyways, after my breakdown and after I found Alex and Jeremy, I just had a bigger purpose. My mind wasn't wrapped around my own self loathing; it was focused on how to keep these kids safe. So, I guess Alex and Jeremy were a blessing, if you will." Alice stopped and looked up at Dean. He smiled warmly and returned to his spot of the leather couch.
"This whole apocalypse thing wasn't very easy for me either. After Sammy..." he paused, let out a huffed breath, scratched his arm, and continued. "I just didn't know what to do. I cut people out of my life. The few friends that I could have contacted after I was released from my "angels witness protection" I left in the dark. I left without a word and went wandering around. Stayed in a town for no longer than two days. I crashed my Impala and left it sitting there. It's probably still smashed into that same tree. People saw me and didn't know if I was really who I said I was. The few people that did know my face, mostly other hunters, looked at me like I was nothing. From what I had been, to what I was then.... It wasn't even comparable. I was a shell of what I used to be." Dean stopped and looked down at his feet, grabbing the ever-present cup of whiskey and taking a sip. He huffed out a breath and continued. "Every few months I would think about contacting old friends, but old faces bring back old memories. A lot of the people I knew also knew Sam. To go there without him just wouldn't feel right. So I left them out. I finally tried to get in contact with one of my old friends- well l, acquaintances more or less. Found an old beat-to-crap H.A.M. radio and actually got through to him. He told me about a camp they had set up in Oregon. From where I was in Arizona I hotwired a few cars, killed a bunch of Croats, and found some pretty awesome malt liquor. I ran into you and that’s pretty much where I stand now." Dean looked back up at Alice and she was watching intently. She cleared her throat and sat up, sweeping her hand over her own whiskey cup as she went.
"Man," she said after wiping the left over whiskey off her mouth, "I miss family. I've got Alex and Jeremy of course but, I mean..." she trailed off, giving her whiskey glass another tilt. Dean could tell that this child had lost a lot at a young age. If anyone were to know about losing people too soon, it was Dean. "Anyways." she continued, "I have Alex and Jeremy now. So I guess they can be counted as family. I look after them and they look up to me so it couldn't really be called any less."
“That’s a good thing, too,” Dean said. “Family, even if you have to make your own, is the only thing that can keep you going long enough to get out alive or keep you living. It keeps you strong and alert and all those things are going to keep you on your toes. Family brings out the best in you.” Dean finished and took another deep swig from his whiskey glass, setting it down next to his feet and looking Alice dead in the face.
“So, I’m assuming that you’re going to head out after this and try and find that camp that your friends are at, aren’t ya?” Alice asked. She had said it calmly enough but Dean was sharp and picked up on the pang of hurt that sifted its way in and out of her words.
“Do you have a radio, or know where we could find one?” Dean asked, completely ignoring Alice’s previous question. Something in his eyes seemed hard and set and it sent an uncomfortable chill through Alice, like Dean was up to no good.
“Actually, there’s an old H.A.M. in my dads closet. He had a trucker friend who gave it to him in case he needed a favor. They kept in touch, and-“ she was cut off by a rush of words flowing from Dean.
“Great, great, please tell me it still works,” the anticipation in Dean’s voice was thick, like a child getting a new on Christmas morning.
“Uhm, I haven’t tried it in a few years, but yeah, it should still work,” before Alice could finish her sentence, Dean was on his feet, rushing to his room in a quick walk. Alice rose and followed him, reaching the door as Dean pulled open the closet and began to rummage. “It’s at the top of the closet on the,” Alice paused and thought for a moment, “top left. Dean shifted his position accordingly and after a few seconds of rummaging, he pulled down the old H.A.M. and set it on the bed.
“Oh, yes, this is perfect!” he shouted in excitement, another childish grin spreading across his face. He rummaged the cord out from the side and jammed it into the socket. He flipped the switch on the side and tried the mike but nothing happened. He flipped the switch twice more before turning to Alice with a blank and confused look on his face.
“What,” Alice asked, raising her hands from her sides in a confused gesture.
“You said,” Dean paused and gestured to the radio. “You said it worked fine. Why isn’t it working?” Dean feverishly tried the switch again, but the results remained the same.
Alice started laughing lightly and Dean was completely confused.
“What?”
“Dean,” Alice said between chuckles, “the power isn’t on, it’s past nine.” She chuckled again and leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. She sighed lightly “Oh, you should’ve seen the look on your face, man. That was priceless!” She regained her composure and continued. “The power will be on at nine in the morning and then we’ll try out the radio, okay?” she chuckled once more, pushed herself off the doorframe and turned into her room, sending a quiet, “G’night, Dean,” over her shoulder.
Once Alice was out of his room and he was alone, Dean looked down at the H.A.M. radio that resided in his lap. He sat in silence for a moment before throwing a hand over his mouth and laughing at his own ridiculousness. It had been quite some time since he had done something as silly as that, and to laugh at his own quirks felt good. He let the laugh die off to a chuckle before removing his had from his mouth. He set the radio on the floor and curled under the sheets of his bed, not bothering to kick off his shoes or change into any other clothing. That night he dreamed of his little brother, and the field they burned down on July the 4th, of ‘92.
Part Four