Roswell Fanatics

Title: Half Life
Author: Christina Buchanan
Email: SixPacsChic@hotmail.com
Rating: Adult
Category: Supernatural/Roswell- Liz/ Dean
Summary: Liz remembers things that Max made her forget over the years.
Spoilers: Post Graduation: Roswell/ Houses of the Holy: Supernatural
Disclaimer: I don't own either show or the characters. I'm just borrowing them. Don't sue. Lyrics are by The Postal Service.
Author's Notes: This is my very first crossover. I just hope it turns out as good as my mind is making it out to be.

Chapter Twenty: Be Still My Heart

I was running late for work
So I didn't change my shirt
The evening's drinks left a lingering taste in my mouth
And when I left
You were fast asleep
Tangled in the sheets
And on the bus I could have sworn it was all a dream
And it didn't happen to me

And then I felt the scrapes
From the slippery subway grate.
Oh how you laughed
At my complete lack of grace.
But I could not recall
A more perfect fall
Cause when I looked up into your eyes
It didn't hurt at all.

And I thought, be still my heart
This could be a brand new start, with you.
And it will be clear
If I wake up and you're still here with me in the morning.
--The Postal Service "Be Still My Heart"

The Roadhouse is busy and both Jo and I are on the floor, delivering drinks while Ellen mans the bar.

Some guy grabs my ass and I turn around to give him hell when I recognize the familiar smirk.

"You're lucky I didn't backhand you," I say with my own answering smirk.

Dean shrugs. "It would be worth it."

Jo steps up beside me. "Hope you don't greet all the waitresses that way."

"Only the ones who don't hold me at gunpoint," Dean quips.

Sam looks up from his laptop. "Hey Jo."

I give Jo a sideways look. "You pulled a gun on him?"

"I didn't know who he was at the time," Jo tells me, then turns to Sam. "Hi Sam."

I sit down on Dean's lap. "Got your baby all tuned up?"

"Yeah," he replies. "Wanna go outside and check her out?"

"Pst, it's a trap," Sam whispers, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

I giggle. "And I thought you only did trap warnings for Dean."

He shrugs. "With the way you say things sometimes, he needs someone to warn him."

"And you think I can't tell when he's trying to get me alone for a quickie in the back seat?" I ask.

"Well, yeah," Sam answers, "but it made you laugh."

"You three have spent too much time together," Jo comments. "It's like being in a foreign country."

"This is nothing," Dean says. "You should see when these two geek-out together. I can't even understand what the hell they're talking about."

Later that night Sam and Ash are in the corner discussing Ash's findings while Jo hovers near Sam's elbow.

"Looks like she moved on to the other one," Ellen comments wryly as she hands me clean glasses to put up.

"Sam's closer to her age anyway," I say.

"Sam also hasn't been staring at you the way Dean has all night," Ellen notes.

My cheeks flush.

"He's more like his daddy than he realizes," Ellen adds.

"In what way?" I ask.

"He's a one-woman-man," she replies. "And when he finally realizes it, it's gonna scare the hell out of him."

I nod mutely, mulling over her words until Dean emerges from the basement, covered in soot.

"Your pilot light's busted," he tells Ellen. "I can fix it tomorrow if I get the parts."

"So much for a hot shower," Ellen mutters walking into the back.

"I'll take a look at it," I offer.

"Gonna work your mojo?" he asks with a grin.

"If it gets me a hot shower," I say as I follow him down to the basement.

"How much do you know about propane water heaters?" Dean asks.

"The Crashdown had one," I answer as I get down on the floor to examine the pilot light. "Dad taught me how to fix it in case it broke while he and Mom were away. You're right though, the thermocouple is busted and the pilot assembly is dirty as all hell. Ask Ellen if she has a small wire brush to clean this with and I'll see what I can do with the coupler."

"Sure," he says as he walks back upstairs.

After a few minutes I hear Ellen come down the basement steps.

"If I had known that I had an expert on my hands, I would have sent you down here first," she says as she hands me a brush.

I smile up at her as I clean the pilot assembly. "I didn't know anyone who kept one of these dinosaurs running except for my father and he's of the school that you fix it until there's nothing left to be fixed."

"I like him already," Ellen says with a laugh.

"He would like you too," I tell her. "Parker's bar was a lot like this place before his father turned it into a cafe."

I finish putting everything back together and Ellen re-lights the pilot with a match.

"Damn, girl, I think I'd better keep you around."

"Stand in line," Dean calls out from the top of the stairs. "I saw her first."

Ellen smirks at me and our conversation from earlier comes back to me.

"You coming back up anytime tonight?" Dean asks. "Sammy and Jo got a game of pool going and I want you on my team."

I stand up and dust myself off. "What about Ash?"

"Please," he scoffs. "He thinks pool tables are for sleeping on."

Ellen and I emerge from the basement and Dean hands me a towel to wipe the soot off my face.

"It's not really fair to team up with the person who taught you how to play," I tell Dean.

Sam raises an eyebrow. "I thought Dad taught you to play."

"Dad taught me how to hustle," Dean corrects his brother. "Before that, I spent many an afternoon getting my ass kicked by half pint, over here. She called it teaching."

I roll my eyes. "Always with the short jokes when you feel inadequate."

Jo and Sam both snort.

"Make sure to shut everything down when you all finish goofing around," Ellen reminds us as she climbs the stairs. "Good night."

"Night, Ellen," I call after her as I select my cue.

The four of us play pool late into the night, switching teams every game to keep things fair. It's four o'clock before we decide to quit and head to our respective rooms.

I'm towel drying my hair after a shower when Dean comes into my room, his hair still damp from his own shower. "Hey."

I smile. "Hi."

"Mind if I crash here?" he asks.

"Sure," I reply as I shrug out of my robe and get into bed.

Dean lays down next to me and stares at the ceiling.

"Something on your mind, Winchester?"

He glances at me briefly. "Why do you ask?"

"Cause normally you'd be all over me by now," I point out. "Plus, you've got that wrinkle between your eyebrows that you get when you're thinking too hard about something."

"It's nothing," he says.

"Alright," I murmur as I turn off the lamp. "Good night."

He sighs. "Resorting to reverse psychology already?"

I turn the lamp back on and roll over to face him. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he says.

"It's five in the morning," I tell him. "Forgive me if I don't feel like trying to get you talk to me about what's bothering you because I'm having trouble keeping my eyes open."

"Whatever."

I glare at him. "Name one time that I've ever made you talk about your feelings."

He furrows his brow.

"In case you're unsure, the answer is never," I inform him as I roll over and turn off the lamp again.

"Why is that?" he asks after a while.

"Why is what?" I respond with exasperation.

"Why is it you never ask me about, you know, stuff like that?"

"You'll tell me when you're ready," I answer. "You always do."

I shift so I'm spooning against him and pull his arm around my waist. He kisses my shoulder and draws me a little bit closer, accepting my peace offering.

"Good night, Dean." I whisper.

"Night, Liz."

Title: Half Life
Author: Christina Buchanan
Email: SixPacsChic@hotmail.com
Rating: Adult
Category: Supernatural/Roswell- Liz/ Dean
Summary: Liz remembers things that Max made her forget over the years.
Spoilers: Post Graduation: Roswell/ Houses of the Holy: Supernatural
Disclaimer: I don't own either show or the characters. I'm just borrowing them. Don't sue. Lyrics are by Portishead.
Author's Notes: This is my very first crossover. I just hope it turns out as good as my mind is making it out to be.

Chapter Twenty-one: Wandering Star

Please could you stay awhile to share my grief
For its such a lovely day
To have to always feel this way
And the time that I will suffer less
Is when I never have to wake

Wandering stars, for whom it is reserved
The blackness of darkness forever
Wandering stars, for whom it is reserved
The blackness of darkness forever

Those who have seen the needles eye, now tread
Like a husk, from which all that was, now has fled
And the masks, that the monsters wear
To feed, upon their prey

Wandering stars, for whom it is reserved
The blackness of darkness forever
Wandering stars, for whom it is reserved
The blackness of darkness forever
--Portishead "Wandering Star"

"I've never had to work this hard to get a girl to go out with me before."

I twirl the phone cord around my finger and smile. "You could always hang up if it's not worth it."

"I didn't say it wasn't worth it," Dean says. "Besides, I never back down from a challenge."

"Even if it takes . . ." I check my watch. "two hours on the phone answering silly questions?"

"Sure," he answers. "Wait, we've been on the phone for two hours?"

"Uh-huh," I say with a giggle.

"How much longer is your interview process?" he asks.

"Can you blame me for asking lots of questions?" I shoot back. "It's like you said this morning while you were stealing my coffee; there's lot's of freaks and weirdos out there and a girl can't be too careful."

"Are you going to find ways to use what I say against me on a regular basis?"

"Only when it suits my purpose," I quip.

"Maybe I should pass you off to Sammy," Dean jokes. "You two would get along great."

"Dream on, dude." I hear a voice in the background. "I like girls with IQs bigger than their bra size."

"Tell him I scored a 1500 on my SATs."

Dean relays the information to his brother.

I hear Sam laugh. "Then what the hell is she doing with you?"

"Shut up!"

"Ow Dean! That was my bruised arm!"

"Get lost, Samantha."

"Jerk!"

"Bitch!"

I hear a door slam.

"Sorry about that," Dean tells me.

"It's okay," I assure him. "I actually found it kind of entertaining."

"You would," he says. "You're an only child."

"Is that The Band I hear in the background?" I ask.

"Yeah," he replies. "Dad must have just gotten in."

I smile. "My dad listens to them when he's balancing the books."

"Oh yeah?"

"He loves Creedence too," I add. "One of my earliest memories was watching my dad sing "Susie Q" to my mom while she was washing dishes after dinner."

"For me it was Led Zepplin," Dean says. "I was like three and they were slow dancing in the kitchen to "Stairway to Heaven.""

"So you want to go to the movies tomorrow?" I ask after a moment.

"You mean I passed your screening process?" he responds.

"Yes."

"Alright," he says. "I'll meet you at the theater at six."

"What are we seeing?"

"Fight Club," he replies. "It's supposed to be a comedy."

***

I look up from my newspaper as Sam emerges from his room some time around eleven in the morning.

"Coffee's in the pot." I gesture toward the bar.

He grunts, pours himself a mug and takes a seat across from me.

"You're up early," I comment as I start my Sudoku puzzle.

"Couldn't sleep," he says. "What about you?"

"Same."

He gives me a look that tells me that he's not buying my answer.

"Something's bothering Dean," I offer, "and as opposed to just coming out and saying it, he wants me to pry it out of him."

"You know, for all the Samantha jokes he makes about me, sometimes I think he's the bigger girl," Sam tells me.

"Tell me about it."

"I think it has to do with what Ellen said to you last night," he says.

"You heard that?" I ask.

"Hard not to." He smirks a little. "Her voice carries."

I bite my lip. "Do you think maybe Dean heard it too?"

"If he did, it might be the kick in the ass he needs to admit how he feels about you," Sam says.

"Or maybe he'll feel like I'm trying to tie him down," I counter.

He shrugs.

"I don't know what I'm doing here, Sam," I say with a sigh. "It's not like I was looking for a relationship when I met up with your brother again. I just wanted him to know that he changed my life that summer."

"Dad never freaked out about Cassie the way he did you," Sam tells me. "He wouldn't take a case anywhere near New Mexico because he knew Dean would try to see you."

"And then he just kept telling him that I wasn't worth it until he believed it," I murmur. "Don't have time to be courting a girl who won't even call, son. You were just a summer fling to her and she'd never understand what we do anyway."

"You channeling my dad or something?" Sam asks.

I shake my head. "I saw it when I was checking to see what kind of damage Lonnie did to him. Kinda stuck with me."

"No one could verbally beat someone into submission like dad," Sam says wryly.

"I would have understood," I say.

"I know."

Title: Half Life
Author: Christina Buchanan
Email: SixPacsChic@hotmail.com
Rating: Adult
Category: Supernatural/Roswell- Liz/ Dean
Summary: Liz remembers things that Max made her forget over the years.
Spoilers: Post Graduation: Roswell/ Houses of the Holy: Supernatural
Disclaimer: I don't own either show or the characters. I'm just borrowing them. Don't sue. Lyrics are by Daft Punk. Dialog taken from Star Wars. Idea and some dialog for chapter taken from the episode “Tall Tales.”
Author's Notes: This is my very first crossover. I just hope it turns out as good as my mind is making it out to be.

Chapter Twenty-two: Face to Face

I turned away because I thought you were the problem
Tried to forget until I hit the bottom
But when I faced you in my blank confusion
I realized you weren't wrong, it was a mere illusion

It really didn't make sense
Just to leave this unresolved
It's not hard to go the distance
when you finally get involved face to face
--Daft Punk “Face to Face”


"Harvelle's Roadhouse."

"Hey, Liz, it's Sam."

"Is everything okay?" I ask.

"Um, yeah, but I think we're gonna need your help on this case," Sam says.

"What's up?"

"It looks like there was an alien abduction in Ohio on a college campus," Sam replies.

I frown. "You're sure about this?"

"We weren't at first, but then we found circular burn marks on the ground in front of Crawford Hall and the guy who was abducted to sounds like he's telling the truth," Sam tells me.

"Alright," I agree. "I'll be there in a day or so."

"Thanks, Liz."

"No problem," I say. "By the way, where's Dean?"

"Hopefully not messing with my computer," Sam answers.

I roll my eyes. "Another prank war?"

"Better not be," he mutters.

"Just don't mess with the car, Sam," I tell him.

"Scout's honor," he says.

"Okay," I say. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"See ya."

I hang up the phone and turn to Ellen.

"Call me when you get there," Ellen says with a tired smile.

I nod. "See you in a few days."

"And be careful," she adds as I head to my room to pack.

***

"So let me get this straight," I say after a very long and confusing story. "First, it's a ghost, then slow dancing aliens, and now an alligator in the sewer?"

Dean nods. "That pretty much covers it."

"Somebody's been reading way too much Weekly World News," I mutter.

"But they have to be linked, right?” Sam asks.

“Yeah,” I agree, “but we don’t know how.”

“The victims might have something in common,” Dean suggests.

“Other than being jerks?” Sam says.

I bite my lip trying to remember. “Something Grandma said in her research.”

“You got one of her books on you?” Dean asks.

I frown. “No, but there might be one in the university library.”

“Well, we’re taking your car since somebody decided to mess with the Impala,” Dean says looking at Sam accusingly.

“Dude, I swear--”

I step between them. “Enough! Let’s go.”

Sam and Dean argue the whole way to the library. I get out of the car and pin both of them with a glare. “When you two are done with your lover's quarrel, you can find me inside.”

Dean snickers. "Dude, she just called you gay."

"What are you, five?" Sam says, shoving Dean with his shoulder.

"I'd still kick your ass any day," Dean shoots back, giving him an answering shove.

"Knock it off, you two, or I swear to God, I will kick both your asses!" I interrupt loudly.

“He started it!” they say at the same time.

I roll my eyes and with a defeated sigh, I toss Dean the keys. “Pick me up in a couple of hours.”

“No,” Dean insists. “We’re coming with you.”

“There’s nothing dangerous about a library,” I assure him, “but if I have to listen to you two bicker like an old married couple for much longer, you will be in danger.”

“Let’s take a drive, Sam.”

“Sure,” Sam agrees as he gets back into the car.

***

“It’s a Trickster.”

“A what?”

“A Trickster,” I repeat. “They’re found in almost every culture. The Lakota call them Hayoka. Then there’s Kokopelli, Iktomi, Loki, Anansi, Puck. . . the list goes on.”

“So we’re up against a god?” Sam says.

“A demi-god,” I correct him. “One who likes to take jerks down a peg and has a sense of humor.”

“Can we kill it?” Dean asks.

“In theory, yes,” I answer. “You need to stab it in the heart with a stake dipped in the blood of one of his victims.”

Dean shrugs. “Sounds easy enough. How do we find him?”

“They have a really high metabolism and like sweets,” I explain. “I say, we follow the trail of candy bars and Ho-Hos and we’ll find our guy.”

***

It's been the damn janitor all along. Sam and Dean are off stealing blood from the morgue and I’m breaking into Crawford Hall after Dean tells me to wait for them.

I figure this can’t be any harder than what happened with Lonnie.

The classroom is dimly lit when I step inside. There’s a gaudy looking canopy bed with two girls lounging on it where the podium should to be and Barry White is playing in the backround.

The janitor turns around. “Just in time for the party-- oh, it's you."

I smirk. “Your jedi mind tricks don’t work on me.”

He smiles at me strangely. “You can see past my illusions?”

“Let’s just say my perception is slightly askew.”

“Fascinating.”

“You honestly think we were going to let you keep on killing people for your amusement?” I ask.

“You honestly think you can stop me?” he shoots back incredulously.

“Bet your ass I can,” I say.

“Game on, sister,” he says with a grin.

***

I’m in the middle of the Crashdown with Agent Pierce holding a gun on me. It's not real, but my senses still don't register that fact.

Note to self: Demi-gods are not demons.

Should have listened to Dean and stayed put. I'll never hear the end of it if I get out of this alive.

"Go away," I mutter, sending a small blast of energy toward Pierce.

He ripples and disappears, but I'm still in the cafe. The Trickster is testing my abilities. He can't hurt me, but I can't break his illusions completely. We're at a stalemate.

I drag the antenae off my head and take a seat at the bar. "Just freaking great."

***

“She’s been out for a while,” Dean says worriedly. “You think she’s okay?”

“Her pulse and breathing are steady,” Sam says. “If she’s not up soon, I’ll give Bobby a call and see what he can come up with.”

“We shouldn’t have called her,” Dean mutters.

“She should have listened to us,” Sam tells him.

“Yeah, well, we’ll have a nice long talk about that when she wakes up,” Dean says.

“At least she kept us from killing each other.”

“True,” Dean agrees, “Look, about the car and what I said, I’m . . .”

“Yeah, me too,” Sam murmurs after a moment.

“You guys are breaking my heart,” I mumble as I attempt to sit up. “Could someone get me glass of water?”

Dean helps me right myself as Sam hands me water.

“How long was I out?” I ask.

“Couple hours,” Dean answers. “Trickster did a number on you.”

“You got him, right?”

“Yeah,” Sam says. “He’s dead.”

I look up at Dean. “I’m sorry I went in there without you.”

“Hope you learned your lesson,” he tells me.

I nod. “Consider me humbled.”

“Good,” Dean says. “You should give Ellen a call before she has a heart attack.”

Dean tosses my phone to me and leaves the room.

I frown and bite my lip. “He was really worried, wasn’t he?”

“You scared the hell out of him,” Sam confirms.

“It was a really stupid move,” I admit. “Maybe Ash was right about me. I’m not a hunter.”

“You just got overconfident,” Sam assures me. “Everyone does at some point. Even Dean.”

I sigh. “How long does he usually stay mad after stuff like this?”

“Give it a state or two,” he suggests.

Title: Half Life
Author: Christina Buchanan
Email: SixPacsChic@hotmail.com
Rating: Adult
Category: Supernatural/Roswell- Liz/ Dean
Summary: Liz remembers things that Max made her forget over the years.
Spoilers: Post Graduation: Roswell/ Houses of the Holy: Supernatural
Disclaimer: I don't own either show or the characters. I'm just borrowing them. Don't sue. Lyrics are by Cat Power
Author's Notes: This is my very first crossover. I just hope it turns out as good as my mind is making it out to be.

Chapter Twenty-Three: I Found a Reason

Oh I do believe
In all the things you say
What comes is better than what came before

And you'd better come come, come come to me
Better come come, come come to me
Better run, run run, run run to me
Better come

Oh I do believe
In all the things you say
What comes is better that what came before

And you'd better run run, run run to me
Better run, run run, run run to me
Better come, come come, come come to me
You'd better run
-Cat Power "I Found a Reason"

It's only been a few hours since we've left Ohio, but the silence between Dean and I is already starting to bother me. I'm wondering if maybe I should have gone with Sam, but I'm sure that would have created another set of problems.

I reach over and turn down the radio. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I know," he says.

"I should have listened to you," I continue. "I'm just so used to people always thinking that I'm in over my head when I know I can handle it."

He nods, but doesn't say anything.

"You don't want to talk about this, do you?" I ask.

"What do you want me to say, Liz," he demands, "that I'm angry you didn't trust my judgement, or that I was scared of the possibility that you weren't going to wake up, or maybe I'm starting to realize why dad wanted to keep us apart?"

"Why did he want to keep us apart, Dean?"

Several moments pass before he answers. "I wasn't supposed to need you."

That wasn't the answer I was expecting, and before I can respond, Dean turns the radio back up, signaling the end of the conversation.

My heart is racing and all I can think is 'he needs me the same way that I need him. . . ' and if I don't say something soon, he's going to think that I don't feel the same way. I turn off the radio and put my hand on his arm.

He glances at me. "Yeah?"

"I need you, too, Dean."

"You were doing just fine before we met up again and you'll be fine again if we part ways," he says. "You don't really need me."

"I wasn't fine," I murmur. "I've been falling apart and putting everyone else back together before I can even think about myself for the last six years. I was suffocating."

He tries to turn the radio on, but I bat his hand away.

"I'm not finished," I tell him. "You spent six years thinking that I didn't give a damn about you, but I went that long wondering why I couldn't let myself love anyone else because even though I couldn't remember you, I still loved you."

I let him turn the radio on after that and stare out the window until we pull into a rest stop a few hours later. I get out and sit on the hood of the car while Dean's in the bathroom and Sam takes a seat beside me.

"So?"

"What?"

"Is he still mad?" Sam asks.

I shrug. "I wish I knew."

"Well, what did you say to him?"

"I apologized, then I told him I loved him," I reply.

"Oh."

"I'm guessing it'll be a few more states before he speaks to me outside of asking if I need a pit stop," I say.

Sam shrugs.

"And I thought you knew him better than anyone," I joke, nudging him with my shoulder.

"Yeah well, he's never been in love before," Sam points out, giving me an answering nudge.

"Must be weird being alone in the car," I comment. "What do you do with yourself?"

Sam snorts. "Listen to music made after 1983."

I roll my eyes and just as I'm about to retort, Dean emerges from the restroom, talking on his cell phone. "Thanks Ellen . . . Yeah, we'll take her with us. She can't get into too much trouble on this job . . . Excuse me?" Dean glances at me and blushes. "I'll, uh, get back to you on that. . . Yeah, bye."

"So what did Ellen have to say?" Sam asks with a smirk as Dean flips his phone shut and tucks it in his pocket.

"There's a haunting on Highway Forty-one in California," Dean replies. "She had Ash e-mail you the articles so when we get somewhere with WiFi, you can check it out."

"Okay," Sam agrees. "Is Liz coming too?"

"You up for it?" Dean asks me. "Ellen says that Jo's got you covered at the bar."

I nod. "Sure."

"I figure we can stop in St. Louis for lunch," he says as he helps me off the hood of the car. "That puts us in Denver around eleven."

"See you in a few hours," Sam says, walking over to the Impala.

Dean catches my arm as I open the passenger door. "We'll talk tonight, okay?"

"Okay," I agree.

Title: Half Life
Author: Christina Buchanan
Email: SixPacsChic@hotmail.com
Rating: MA
Category: Liz/ Dean
Summary: Liz remembers things that Max made her forget over the years.
Spoilers: Post Graduation: Roswell/ Houses of the Holy: Supernatural
Disclaimer: I don't own either show or the characters. I'm just borrowing them. Don't sue. Lyrics are by Hooverphonic
Author's Notes: This is my very first crossover. I just hope it turns out as good as my mind is making it out to be.

Chapter Twenty-Four: Eden

Did you ever think of me
As your best friend

Did I ever think of you
I'm not complaining

I never tried to feel
I never tried to feel this vibration
I never tried to reach
I never tried to reach your eden

Did I ever think of you
As my enemy

Did you ever think of me
I'm complaining

I never tried to feel
I never tried to feel this vibration
I never tried to reach
I never tried to reach your eden
-Hooverphonic "Eden"

It's been hours since we left St. Louis and I'm still looking at the file Ash sent to us. I'm trying to focus on the case, but my mind keeps drifting to the past. All I can see when I close my eyes is the burned out wreckage of Alex's Toyota and I can't help but wonder if, because of what happened to him, that maybe he's haunting some patch of highway in New Mexico. I glance over at Dean who's focused on the road, and I know what I have to do.

It's around one in the morning by the time we pull into Denver. I slip out of the hotel room while Dean and Sam are at the laundromat and get into my car. I feel a pang of guilt as I crank the engine and pull out of the parking lot, but I can't leave this alone.

My phone rings an hour later.

"Just where the hell do you think you're going?"

I cringe at Dean's tone, but my voice is steady. "New Mexico."

"And this couldn't have waited until the job was done?" he asks.

I sigh. " I can't explain. I've just got a feeling about this."

"Did you have a vision?"

"No, but I've been following my gut instincts for the past five years and I haven't been wrong so far," I say.

"You could have told me you were leaving," he says. "I wouldn't have stopped you."

"I'm sorry," I murmur.

"Trust is a two way street, Liz."

"I know."

"I've gotta get some sleep," Dean tells me. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"Sure," I agree. "Bye, Dean."

"Stay safe."

I disconnect the call and toss the phone on the seat beside me. Blinking away tears that have welled up, I turn on the radio. "Dazed and Confused" blares through the speakers and I roll my eyes. Not exactly the kind of driving music, I was looking for. I reach beside me for my CD case and my fingers brush against leather and paper. John's journal. Dean must have left it in the car. I pull over to the side of the road, grab a flashlight from the glove box and open the journal to a random page somewhere in the middle. I skim through a few journal entries from the year 2000 until I come across the name Whitman and a phone number. Alex's phone number.

My heart drops into my stomach and my mouth goes dry. "What the hell?"

The familiar opening bars of "Fool in the Rain" filter through the speakers and I remember.

It's late September in Roswell and Alex and I are lounging on the pool patio. I'm reading A Tale of Two Cities and Alex is fiddling around on his guitar.

"Haven't you already read that?" Alex asks plucking a few chords.

I glance up at him. "Two years ago. I'm mostly skimming."

"It's called Cliff Notes, Parker," he teases, picking a familiar riff.

I grin.

"What?"

"I know that song," I say.

"It's Led Zeppelin," Alex informs me.

"'Fool in the Rain'" I murmur. "Dean played it for me down at the Causeway."

Alex stops playing and raises an eyebrow. "Dean?"

I rub the palm of my hand on my pant leg. "His father said I'd forget about him, but I remember."

"Uh-huh."

"Christ, my hand is burning," I mutter. "Must have touched some poison oak or something."

Alex leans over and looks at my palm. "That's the symbol you had me look up when you got home from Florida."

Panic starts bubbling up inside of me. "I didn't put that there."

"I know," he tells me. "Let's go inside and let my dad have a look at it."

***

"Christ, John, you did a real botch job on her," Mr. Whitman yells over the phone in the other room.

I flinch at his tone. Alex's dad never gets angry.

"Protecting her?" he snaps. "You've scared and confused the hell out of her."

"Alex, what's going on?" I ask as he leaves his father's office.

He shakes his head. "Don't worry about it.'

I grimace.

"Got something for your hand," he tells me, holding up a jar.

I give him my hand and he applies the salve to my palm. A tingling warmth spreads through my hand and the burning sensation fades.

I half-smile. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," he says. "I'll drive you home."

"Sure," I agree with a yawn.

"No!" Alex's dad shouts into the phone. "You coming here will only make things worse. My son cleaned up your mess this time. . . Well, don't try anything like this again, John. I mean it."

I cast a questioning glance at Alex.

"I can't explain everything," he tells me. "It's bigger than you or me or some boy you met over the summer. You'll understand someday."

I nod and let him lead me out the front door.

***

Hot, angry tears stream down my face as I pound on the steering wheel. My own best friend kept this from me. Bigger than me and some boy I met over the summer? What could possibly be bigger than the existence of aliens? I wipe my face with a napkin and pull back onto the freeway. I guess I'm about to find out.

Title: Half Life
Author: Christina Buchanan
Email: SixPacsChic@hotmail.com
Rating: MA
Category: Liz/ Dean
Summary: Liz remembers things that Max made her forget over the years.
Spoilers: Post Graduation: Roswell/ Houses of the Holy: Supernatural
Disclaimer: I don't own either show or the characters. I'm just borrowing them. Don't sue. Lyrics are by Mushroomhead Quote at the end is by Buddha.
Author's Notes: This is my very first crossover. I just hope it turns out as good as my mind is making it out to be.

Chapter Twenty Five: Sun Doesn’t Rise
Some kind of evidence
Some kind of reason
Why I can't find a way
To begin my life

Somewhere in this dying day
If I can only find a way for my escape
I find it hard to concentrate with all my past mistakes

To begin my life

I can't feel my faith can't recall my crime
I think I sealed my fate along the way I may have lost my mind
I guess we're all damaged in our own way
Alone in our own way
Distant headlights desolate highway
-“Sun Doesn’t Rise” by Mushroomhead

The light to the office turns on and I look up to see a very startled Mr. Whitman staring at me.

“Elizabeth!”

“Hello Mr. Whitman,” I greet him. “I have some questions for you.”

Alex’s father moves to the other side of the room, putting the desk between us. “Of course.”

“I emptied the gun before you got here,” I tell him dryly before he can open the desk drawer. “Despite what the FBI will tell you, I’m not a threat to national security. I only came here to talk.”

He sinks into the office chair, looking bewildered. “How much do you already know?”

“I remember nearly everything you and John made me forget,” I answer. “What I don’t know is why I was made to forget those things.”

“It’s complicated,” he says.

I shift in my seat and put my feet up on an ottoman. “I’ve got time.”

“John received a message that told him that you shouldn’t find out what he and his sons were involved with,” Mr. Whitman explains. “He was given the symbol to put on your person.”

“Something got lost in translation,” I mutter.

“Alex was supposed to have fixed it.”

“Who gave the message?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Someone named Michael.”

“That’s a common enough name, and no one by that name was mentioned in his journal,” I say. “Would anyone else know?”

“Pastor Jim might have,” he tells me. “He passed away last year, though.”

“You were implying that I wasn’t ever supposed to remember anything.” I glance at a photograph of Alex on the wall. “What reason would Alex have to botch the memory charm a second time?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Alex could be secretive at times, especially about his research.”

“Research?”

He shuffles around in one of the drawers for a moment and extracts an overstuffed accordion folder. “He picked up where is grandfather left off in his research.”

“Are you saying that his grandfather was a hunter?”

“And his mother.”

I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. I take the file from Alex’s father, catching hold of his hand. “Can you help me?”

He smiles at me warmly. “Of course, Liz.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, letting go of his hand.

“There’s more in his room,” he informs me.

My eyes widen. What on earth could he have been researching?

“I’ll put on some coffee and get the other files.”

I nod as I unwrap the string on the accordion file. “I have a feeling that it’s going to be a long night.”

After a few minutes of reading I set the file aside, pull out my phone and dial Dean’s cell.

“This is Dean.”

“Hey,” I say. “It’s Liz.”

“You make it okay?” he asks.

“Um yeah,” I tell him. “No problems with the trip. It’s just—well, I think I may have found something.”

“What?”

I sigh. “It turns out my friend Alex was doing some pretty heavy research right before he died. I’m not sure what it was all about yet, but I think it’s connected to the yellow eyed demon.”

“Give me the address,” he says. “We can be there by noon tomorrow.”

“Doesn’t that ghost only show up once a year?” I ask.

“Yeah, so?”

“The haunting is tomorrow night,” I remind him.

“Shit,” he mutters.

“I’m taking all the files to the Roadhouse to get Ash’s help,” I tell him. “You can meet me there after the job is done.”

“Okay,” he agrees reluctantly. “See you in a few days.”

“Stay safe,” I murmur before hanging up the phone.

Mr. Whitman enters the room a few minutes later, carrying a steaming mug of coffee and an armful of files. I accept the cup and take a tentative sip.

“How did you do it?” I ask.

He glances up from the file he’s leafing through. “Do what, Liz?”

“Make it work with Alex’s mom, knowing she was a hunter,” I say.

“Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.” He quotes with a small smile.