Roswell Fanatics

Finally some answers...



“Maybe tonight we can forget about it all. It could be just like heaven. I am a machine. No longer living, just a shell of what I dreamed” - The Fantasy, 30 Seconds to Mars

Dean woke up with the sun peaking through the only half closed curtains. For the first time in a while he felt well rested, like he could actually take on the world that waited for him outside the motel door.

The cheap sheets caressed his skin as he twisted in bed, his arms spreading out into open space. Memories of the night before drifted into his mind. Parker was definitely a spitfire, just like had expected her to be.

Parker.

Open space...

He opened his eyes fully and surveyed the room. Empty. He hastily got out of bed and dressed. She'd run. The door slammed shut behind him, still wounded from the night before couldn't sustain itself after another hard knock and hung limply on its hinge.

“Casanova returns,” Sam's smirking voice sounded from the bed where he was seated, research spread around him. Dean ignored the remark.

“Where is she?”

“Who?” some of the confusion cleared from his brothers face before being replaced by mirth. “Parker? You lost her already?”

He was not amused.

-----

“Pain, without love. Pain, I can't get enough. Pain, I like it rough. 'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all” - Pain, Three Days Grace

Why was she crying, she shouldn't be crying. There was nothing for her to cry about, the Winchesters meant nothing to her, yet that didn't stop the sobs that were being ripped from her throat violently.

Elizabeth pulled the down quilt around her tighter, her pressed into the pillow to mute the sounds she was emitting. If she didn't hear them they weren't happening. If she didn't remember it didn't really happen. If, if, if...

She was tired of ifs, and dreams, and all that other bullshit that stretched a person too thin. Caused too many problems and fucked up existence as it was known.

It was just...

Dean with all his masochistic, sadistic faults was a good person who... reminded her off Max. Both of them were the type of men to give up everything for the people they cared about.

But unlike with Max, the only thing that had been between them was potential.

Potential and one more loss.

She couldn't deal with anymore loss.

So she cried and tried to stop the memories as they played through their head.

The morning of the day that Max had died was the last time that she was really truly happy. Without reservation and with too much hope. They'd woken up, had breakfast in bed since neither of them had to work since they were suppose to leave the town they were in the next day. It had been routine not to stay in anyplace longer than a month.

They were suppose to have the day to themselves.

But then Michael had shown up at the door and her world had crashed.

His 'contacts' in Roswell (the former sheriff) had sent him word that there were suspicious people poking around the Parker's (the Evans' had moved shortly after graduation). Valenti wasn't sure if it was Czech related or not but Michael being Michael had wanted to check it out.

Max said no.

Then had gone missing before diner.

To Roswell.

It hadn't taken them long to figure that out and it had taken even less time to follow after him. They'd arrived just in time to hear her fathers soul shattering scream. Her mother was dead. Her father had thrown himself at the man who had done it.

He didn't make it a foot before the agent shot him in the head. The wall behind him had sprayed with blood.

So much blood.

Liz, cause she had been Liz back then, had burned the man from the inside out just like Nasedo had done all those years ago. She had been so focused on doing that, she hadn't noticed the other agent come up behind her.

Michael couldn't react with her in the way. Isabel had gone off with Kyle to try and find Max. Maria, the only one without powers had been left to worry at a roadside motel on the outskirts of town.

They'd had 'fun' with her. So much 'fun' before her husband had finally come. Max, her Max, always the night in shining armor. He'd grabbed her and they'd run, not bothering to check for injuries. Later, she'd wish they had.

Elizabeth remembered being in the car with Max smiling exhaustedly at her. She remembered how his hair, which had been getting longer, had been brushing his lashes and how the light had played with the color flecks in his eyes. She remembered thinking that in that moment he was the most beautiful thing that she had ever seen.

Then she remembered holding onto his battered form as tight as she could, Michael desperately trying to pry her away from her husband. Her husband. The love of her life. The most important person in her life.

Dead.

Dead because the Special Unit couldn't stay away.

At the hospital, after she'd come out of shock, they'd told her Max was dead and she had been pregnant. Had. Past tense. She'd lost the last part of Max that was left.

Isabel hadn't been able to deal, her and Kyle left to find Jesse and start lives away from the mess their lives had become. Michael and Maria had drawn closer together.

Michael wouldn't have made it through without Maria. She became his everything.

And Liz, Liz snapped. She shed who she had always been and immersed herself in a new personality. Not Liz, not Elizabeth, not Elizabeth Parker. No name. And eventually no ties.

The first thing she had done was to track down the Special Unit. All of them, whether they had been present in Roswell or if their connection was only a signature on a piece of paper. All of them.

And she had killed them. More than killed them. Made them wish they were dead and then let them slowly slip away.

After it was done, she had felt the most calm she had since Michael had walked in that morning.

Less than a three months later Michael and Maria walked away.

She'd lost herself in trying to maintain her calm which only seemed to come when there was guilty blood on her hands. And then there had been the Winchesters.

Elizabeth pulled herself out of bed and into the shower, hot tears were still streaming down her face. She couldn't stop them. Couldn't stop the memory of Max's cold skin against her hands as she brushed his hair away from his face in a daze, his blood soaking into the seat below her. Couldn't stop the memory of Dean's voice as it tickled her ear asking her to stay.

Stay.

Stay.

Steam had fogged over the mirror so she ran her hand over the cool glass. She looked like hell warmed over. Or liked she had almost overdosed. Fucking emotions.

Stay.

No, she couldn't stay but she could do the next best thing.

Has anyone watched Prison Break? I think it's my new favorite show.


“I Know what's best for me but I want you instead” - Over and Over, Three Days Grace

Elizabeth was speeding, breaking almost every traffic law that there was in this part of the United States and endangering the lives of anyone unfortunate enough to end up on the same road as her. She pressed the pedal further down, pushing her car to its very limits.

She really didn't give a shit.

The information that she had been looking for had been a wash that had only brought more questions and too many variables that any respectable scientist would abandon the study and try a different tactic. A thesis that was too broad was useless.

Her fingers dug out her cell phone and flipped it open her eyes only half on the glowing white lines of the road ahead of her. Let her car rap around a tree it would be one of the least idiotic things she had done in the last year. Definitely under breaking into the Anthropology labs at Colorado University and fucking Dean Winchester.

Maybe it would even help, near death encounters usually cleared her head and that's exactly what she needed. A clear mind to breed new ideas.

'Cause she was at wits end and progress was practically nonexistent.

As the year was drawing to a close the leads had become thin on the ground and alternate methods of reaching her end were becoming scarce as each new theory was met with failure.

Failure.

She hated that word and the concept behind it. She refused to accept it. In this she wouldn't stop, wouldn't let the answer elude her.

Not an option. It wasn't a fucking option. Not anymore.

The LCD screen of her phone lent an eerie glow to the car as she pointed the cameras pinhole lens at the documents on the passenger seat, making sure that the key parts were visible.

Colorado – Professor Conklin

Sam was a smart boy he could figure the rest out. He had for every other message she had sent him. Let him do the leg work on that one. It would make him feel useful.

Not waiting to make sure that the message had been successfully sent she tossed the phone and turned her attention back to the road.

------

“It doesn't matter right or wrong. As long as you are hiding somewhere” - Love for Granted, Pheonix

The chiming of his phone telling him that he had a new text message was enough to jerk Sam out of the painfully inadequate sleep he had been getting by dozing in the car. His neck was stiff and his legs were cramped but Dean wouldn't stop the car until they got as far away from the Fed's as they could.

It had been an unlucky run in during a routine job that had them switching license plates yet again and trying to be as low profile as they could.

He selected the option to view the message and blinked the sleep out of his eyes as what seemed to be a portion of a newspaper clipping filled the screen. Parker. Again.

She had been sending these leads to them since she had walked out on his brother. Never calling always texting and never, absolutely never, accepting a call going the other way. He was sure that if she didn't want to send them things she would have blocked his number already.

Most of the leads she sent were dead ends and after realizing that she looked into most of them first they had... he had started to be more wary about which ones he followed up on. If it was a picture text she stayed only as long as to confirm that there was something then. If it was a text message she had looked and hadn't seen it fit to see through.

The picture messages were more useful.

“We need to go to Boulder,” Dean nodded but didn't look away from the road. They were headed west anyway.

His brother didn't ask why. In all the time from the first time he had received a message Dean hadn't said a thing about who they were from. Parker was not a topic that was brought up by either of them. If it wasn't for the occasional unconscious act of seeking her out when they were on a hunt, they could easily pass it off as if she hadn't been with them for the last several months.

Sam sunk back into his seat. When they stopped for breakfast he would try to get on the internet but until then there was nothing to do.

------

“All our times have come. Here but now they're gone” - Don't Fear the Reaper, Blue Oyster Cult

Dean knew that his brother was worried about how close the one year mark was closing in. It was more than obvious in the wild goose chaise that he had him running across the country. But Dean, Dean wasn't concerned.

He had made his peace with what was coming. He had accepted that he was going to die the moment that he had traded his soul for his brothers. The only reason he continued to follow up on empty leads was to make Sam feel like there was something he could do.

So he got on the appropriate interstate highway and started the long drive to Boulder.

Nothing would come of it. Just like nothing but frustration had come from any of the leads Parker had sent their way. Yes, Parker. Dean was well aware that she was the one sending Sam texts at all hours of the day and in a weird way he was sure that in her own way that it was showing that she cared.

He really didn't give a shit.

----

I didn't have time to proof this so hopefully there aren't too many mistakes.

I just found out that Wentworth Miller went to the same high school I did and worked on the same yearly performance, if only I'd been born a decade earlier :}

Alright I've got to get to work. Hope you enjoy. Be back Monday.

“Fear is the heart of love” - I Will Follow You Into The Dark, Death Cab for Cutie

The clock on his phone ticked off another minute. Another minute closer to the end, another minute closer to the one year mark. Sam was sitting next to him on the hood of the Impala, both of them leaning back and watching the sky, telling stories about growing up. Dean sharing everything he could remembered about their mom so that his brother would have something of her when he was gone.

He had made peace with dying a long time ago but right now with so little time before the end he found himself wishing he had more. There was so much he could have done, so much he was going to miss.

The war that the YED had started was still raging, Sammy still stuck in the middle. Sammy, he had traded his life for his brothers in a move he couldn't regret but he didn't want to leave Sam behind. Dean knew what it was like to have someone die for you, it wasn't a good feeling.

He was going to miss Sam. The competitiveness, the prank wars, the emotional crap, everything.

More than anything Dean missed the things that he was going to miss.

He'd never get to see his brother get the normal life he so desperately wanted or the nephews he'd get from it. Never have his own kids, even if he wasn't sure he wanted them in the first place.

Their family seemed destined to die young, maybe Sam would break the trend.

His phone chirped and he opened it, careful not to check the time. A text. From Parker. She hadn't contacted him directly in all the time she had been away and despite himself Dean smiled. No matter what he said he missed her.

The cocky smile she would wear when she had just saved his ass or thought that she had saved it. The way that her guard would drop when she thought no one was paying attention. The way she would make faces behind Sam's back when they were arguing.

The feeling of her skin under his hands. The way she trembled after the slightest pressure.

He shook his head to clear it and checked the message. Two words.

I'm sorry.

Sorry for what? For leaving him or for not finding the answer before it was too late. Lizzie and Sammy had run themselves into the ground trying to get around a deal made so that there would be no escape.

The phone shut with a click, the time blaring at him. It was close now. Very close. Time sped when you were trying to hold off something bad.

He leaned back and tried to relax.

Minutes ticked by.

Than an hour.

Than two.

There shouldn't have been a second hour. He checked the time again. It had been over a year since he had made the deal.

Why was he still alive?

“Dean?” Sam was staring at him perplexed. Dean stared right back.

“Sammy?”

-----

“Take a good hard look for the very last time. The very last one in a very long line. Only took a second to say goodbye. Then the pleasure 'bout the pleasure's, been mine, all mine” - DOA, Foo Fighters

Elizabeth... Liz, let the phone slip out of her fingers and smash against the floor before driving the heel of her boot down on it obliterating its use.

She crouched down and finished the circle on the floor, one from Bobby's book that Sam found so fascinating. She had lifted it before she had driven away that morning. The book that was sitting in some P.O. box waiting for the boys to come get it.

Unfamiliar Latin spilt from her lips with ease, her stance unwittingly matching John Winchester's when he had done the same years before.

“I want to make a deal,” the figure that had been approaching from behind her stopped. The woman met her eyes coldly. All demons seemed to give off the same vibe.

Cold and cruel.

Sadistic with homicidal tendencies.

“And what kind of deal would that be?” they were close now. If she wanted to Liz could reach out and touch it.

“Me for Dean.”

“Why would I agree to that? You're nothing, with John we were getting rid of an enemy and with Dean an annoyance. You're lucky I came.”

“Please, you had to,” she could hear Deans voice in her head: don't antagonize the demon you need Lizzie. She changed tactics. “I wasn't talking about my life but my body.”

“Possession?” the interest was there but quickly covered. “That's not even worth my attention.”

“If you knew the things I could do, you wouldn't be so quick to dismiss it.”

“I could take you right now.”

“And I can make you wish you hadn't,” Liz felt her powers rise up, they had been trigger happy for a while now, and she pushed them back down. There was too little time to be have a pissing contest.

“I've never had a willing host.”

“I'd be surprised if you had.”

“It's suppose to be an experience,” she had it now.

“Me for Dean. You leave him alone. That deal is discarded. You have me instead,” her throat tightened but she plowed forward. “I won't fight you. You'll have complete control. All my abilities, everything... until I cease to exist.”

What would Max think of her doing this?

What would Dean say when he learned why he was still breathing? Would he be hurt? Would he see it as yet another life he had ruined? One more person gone for him.

“There'll be no going back. You're mine for the rest of your life and I can make that a very long time.”

“Let Dean live.”

“Done.”

“Than we have a deal,” the demon kissed and her mind erupted in pain. The wrongness of it invaded every fiber of her being but she fought against her instincts and accepted it.

Then there was nothing.

“I can only give you everything I've got” - Make This Go On Forever, Snow Patrol

Their first run in is accidental. The skittering of fate on ice. A part of him thinks they should have expected it. Dean's non-death. The nonexistent backlash. Their inability to get in contact with the only other person besides Bobby to know whose soul was at risk.

Sam struggled to make himself believe that Elizabeth had just gone off the grid and had not done what they both suspected but wouldn't speak.

So they dealt in silence.

He continued to search. Looking up and trying to contact all the people whose names came up in conspiracy articles in connection to Elizabeth Parker of Roswell New Mexico. Despite his best efforts he kept coming up empty handed.

It seemed that anyone connected to her had disappeared around the same time that Elizabeth Parker was listed as being wanted for questioning by the FBI.

And his brother, his brother buried himself in hunts and one-night stands. It wasn't the self-destructive depression that had gripped him when their dad had died. Or the resigned 'live each day to its fullest' philosophy that had been used as a shield immediately after the deal had been made.

But a cross between the two.

Something missing but seemingly easily fillable.

They'd followed a lead given to them by Bobby that had been accompanied by a stringent warming. The possible location of an extremely nasty demon with a lot of new tricks up its sleeves.

It sounded as routine a case as they had seen in the year and half since the gate had been opened.

The house gave the feel of one that had once been filled with life and the emptiness was only temporary, there would be children running through doors tracking in mud as their parents censored them with half hearted pleas to take their shoes off.

A house that had only lost its home status recently.

Sam had laughed out in relief at the sight in front of him. A familiar figure turned away from him, Parker with her hands pressed to the side of a demons heads, its wide black eyes conveying a fear he hadn't known that demons could possess. Dean stood slightly behind him, getting more defensive even as Sam felt himself relaxing.

Parker was taking care of it.

The demon had let lose a guttural scream before being released from its human captive, who fell to the floor and remained still. He hoped that they had made it through the exorcism.

Elizabeth cracked her neck and turned to them. Black eyes and cruel smirks.

“Hello boys,” Dean reacted before he could even process that a friend was now an enemy. The shot was deafening and he watched in agonizing fascination as the rock salt stopped in mid air and dropped to the floor. “That wasn't nice.”

Sam moved in order to separate the targets but before he could get far he was pinned against the wall in a position that reminded him too much of a time when someone else who was important to him had been taken over by a demon.

He watched helplessly as his brother rolled on the floor clutching his head, blood dripping slowly from his nose. He'd moved a dresser once to save Dean's life. He hadn't been able to since. What was the point of having abilities if he couldn't use them when it mattered?

“Parker,” she ignored him, all of her attention was focused on the crippled form of his brother. “Elizabeth.”

She... it jerked at the name, black depths resting on him. He wanted to look away, wanted to check on his brother but if he did she might go back to her previous activities.

“Why?” Dean's strained voice broke the staring contest. “Why'd you take her?”

Sam felt the force holding him lessen. He groped for anything close that could be used to clobber the intruder.

Why did it always have to be the ones that they cared for?

“I was in a good mood,” the remark was accompanied by a swift kick to his brothers prone figure. Dean grabbed the foot and threw her off balance, allowing Sam to smash the bookend into her face.

It threw up its arm and sent him flying. The impact knocked the wind out of him. Black swam in front of his eyes. His whole body ached. Desperate seconds ticked away. The sounds of struggling reached him. With a groan he rolled over, blurry eyes searching for his brother.

Dean was on the ground in the center of the room, Parker straddling his waist her low voice twisting tales, “I never quite realized how invigorating it could be to have a willing host... though you do pick up some of their more interesting habits,” it ran its hands over his chest, “your little girl has such a nasty mind, they'll enjoy her downstairs.”

Sam picked up Dean's abandoned shotgun and using one arm as a level, aimed it at the Demon and pulled the trigger.

Epilogue will go up on Friday most likely even though I'm sure you're all gonna hate me

“Everything you've known. Everything you've seen. Everything you've loved. Everything you've been. And everywhere you walk. Every Song you sing. Everytime you wake. It haunts you once again” - FM Radio, Joshua James

They'd entered the hunt more careful than they had entered any previous. Whether it had been with their dad and his anal retentive attention to detail or after one too many close calls. This time, this time they prepared for every scenario they could think up.

Just this once things would go according to plan.

That thing had gotten away once before, Dean wouldn't allow it to get away again.

And it didn't. It had taken them a long time to attract it to where they were but eventually it had bit.

The demon had walked in taunting and flaunting, and Sam stuck it in the neck with the hypodermic needle that had been wedged in Bobby's book rapped in a crinkled piece of paper with tiny letters saying 'make it stop'. It hadn't expected an attack like that so they had easily pushed it into the circle.

There was a perverse sort of pleasure to be gained from watching the demon convulsing on the floor. Sure it was Lizzie's form on the ground but than she had never shown any remorse for the things she had had to do. It was only fair that they didn't either.

Sam was reading out the Latin for the exorcism, his calm words washing over him.

Dean stood over her watching as her hands slapped the floor, the noise barely making it over her screaming. He watched as her nails dragged across the splintering wood flooring the friction pulled her nails back leaving little pools of blood in their wake.

“Stop,” the word were a whisper, her raw voice making it harder to hear.

“It's not working,” Sam said.

“Keep going.”

Parker rolled on to her side, eyes shut tight, tears rolling down her cheek. Her lips moved soundlessly and he leaned down so to hear her.

“Kill me,” he jerked back at the plea.

“Lizzie?” she opened her wide pain filled brown eyes.

“Kill me.”

“We're gonna get it out of you,” it could be using her voice but he didn't think so.

“You can't,” she pleaded. Sam crouched down next to him. “It's a part of me. There's no getting rid of it. I was expecting that but it wouldn't just take that at first.”

“We'll find a way,” that was Sam.

“No, I'm not worth saving. Not now.”

Her life for his. That's what it came down to, “Why is our job to save everyone?”

-----

“My hearts been broken. Sometimes, sometimes. My mind is too strong to carry on. Too strong to carry on” - Orange Sky, Alexi Murdoch

Liz fought against the pain that was building, ripping apart her nerves, and the pressure that was clouding her mind telling her that not only would the demon be back soon because of the respite but that the serum that she had killed to get for them would soon be wearing off.

And then they wouldn't stand a chance.

It would kill them this time before they could get off a lucky shot.

"Why is it our job to save everyone?"

She pushed back the pain. He didn't understand he never understood. She had seen in him, seen every facet of who he was but he didn't get it. He was worth it. He was worth it all. Despite the drinking and the womanizing and the attitude that made a person wish they could shove his head into a wall.

He was worth it.

He needed to understand, “because you're a Winchester and this is the way it's suppose to be. You're meant for great things and we're meant to make it happen. It's what we were all made to do.”

“That's bullshit,” why couldn't he understand?

“That's the truth,” she pressed her hands to her head. There wasn't a lot of time. “You need to finish the exorcism.”

“It'll kill you,” shut up Sam. She already knew that.

“That's the point.”

“No-”

“NOW SAM,” the demon was coming back. Before it could take control she grabbed Dean's arm placing a memory in his mind like Max had done with little Zan. “I'm not meant for a happy ending.”

Dean nodded to his brother and the Latin started again.

This time she didn't scream. She didn't pound the ground. She just smiled.



I know I know, I'm horrible and a hypocrite cause I was very upset with what happened on Prison Break Monday but I've had this as the ending for a while and I couldn't bring myself to change it.

Epilogue

“"Love is watching someone die" So who's going to watch you die?..” - What Sarah Said, Death Cab for Cutie

“Don't forget the pie,” he yelled after Sammy as his brother got out of the Impala. He always forgot the pie.

Dean leaned back and closed his eyes. The sounds of the Eagles of Deathmetal filtered from the speakers. It was calming in its own way. Despite hoping that it wouldn't, his mind shifted to the message that had been put into his mind.

By a woman who he hadn't really known but who had bashed his way into his head.

And he couldn't get her out.

The memory she had placed in his head was jolted at first, a mirage of images overlaid with each other. They were of a black haired man he could only assume was her husband. Max.

And then it was just her.

She wiped the steam off the window with her hand, removing the condensation. Her dark hair hung limply around her head in wet clumps, the blue tank she liked to wear stuck to her skin. She was smiling sadly and for the first time since they had met, Dean felt like he could really see her.

“My name is Liz Parker, or I that's who was at one point, and I think if we had met in some other time we would have been good together but what if's won't help now. They'll only make things worse. Trust me, I've lived a life full of what could could have been's.

“When I walk out that door, I'm going to do something incredibly stupid and I have a feeling that you're going to hate me for it. You hate self sacrifice when it's not your own. There are things you have to understand though.

“It could be said that I'm like Sam. Not in the whole a demon wants me as its bitch way but I can see things before they happen. It's the legacy of meeting my husband. The thing is, I've known for a long time how I am going to die. It is the when that is in question.

“So, in essence I'm going to use you as a means to my end and I'm not sorry about that. I can't be sorry about it, there is too little humanity left in me to care. The fact that I recognize that but don't change it should tell you that this is for the best. I can't be this person anymore.

“You're a good man Dean and as long as you don't go into a another spiral of selfdestruction you're going to have a good life, become the old man time of hunters and you're going to meet someone. A woman who will make life seem worth it. It'll be crazy and out of control but some of the best moments in your life will be with her. I promise you that.

“And don't worry about this memory, it'll fade like all the rest. Be happy and make your peace.

“Goodbye Dean.”

If she wasn't dead, Dean would have killed Lizzie for messing with his head but he almost appreciated the gesture all the same.

The future was before him and for the first time in a long time it seemed as if there wasn't a giant hurtle that needed to be removed. No dad missing or YED chasing them or one year mark closing in on them. It was just him, Sam, and the open road with some hunts along the way.

The potential of it was mind boggling.

He could theoretically find somewhere to settle down, find someone who wasn't just another one night and maybe just maybe he could have a family that extended beyond his brother.

And maybe Sam could have that too.

Because when it came down to it their life could be defined by more than their hunts. They could take a chance on normality. They could conceivably follow Lizzie's advice because if they were being honest the opportunity was nice.

But it also threw their lives into focus, exposing all the things that were missing and it was funny how the absence of a thing brought it that much sharper into focus.




Thank you so much for all the great reviews and I promise next story will have a happy ending.