Sunlight filtered through the old curtains of the hospital window, illuminating the dust mites floating in the air. The room was simple; one window, a small bathroom consisting of sink and toilet, various beeping machines and a hospital bed occupied by one Doc Holliday. Beside it sat Wynonna, her eyes bloodshot and cheeks tear stained. She watched, as the heart monitor steadily beeped, the electronic white zig zag making its way across the screen.

"How's he doing?" asked her sister, Waverly, quietly entering the room.

"Fine. At least for now. He's stable, but the doctors said the bullet did a number. They got most of it out, but there could still be some internal bleeding. "

The petit blonde placed a comforting hand on her big sister's back. "Well that's something right? I mean he could be..."

"Dead?" she interrupted. Waverly looked away. Wynonna sighed. "I can't do this baby girl. Not again."

"Shh...it'll be okay." Waverly pulled her big sister against her. She stroked Wynonna's hair, as fresh tears glazed her cheeks.

"But what if it's not? What if Alice never gets to know her father? What if we can't beat Bulshar without him? Dammit, Waverly, I never even got the chance to tell him how I really feel. He tried, God knows he gave the opportunity to, but I was too chicken shit, too scared to admit how much he means to me."

"But what if it is?"

Wynonna sniffled. "What?"

"But what if it is okay? If he continues to stay stable, to heal. Wynonna, you'll have the chance to do those things, all of it, with him."

She sighed. "I guess you're right." Waverly smiled at her gently.

"Now come on. It won't do you any good to stay here all night and day thinking up morbid what ifs. Let me take you back to the homestead. At least for a shower and some food."

"I can't just leave him alone..."

"Jeremy offered to stay. Keep watch for a bit." As if on cue, the young tech geek entered. He gave his best reassuring smile. "Come on Wynonna."

Defeated, she let Waverly guide her out of her chair and into the hallway. With one last, long look at his sleeping form, she was gone.

The wheat danced to the music of the wind. Rising and falling, swaying with each crescendo and drawn out note. A symphony of gold and browns, set upon a back drop of purest blue and fluffy white. The summer's warm breath tickled the hair on his face as he smiled wide. He felt happy, carefree. Running through the dried grasses, he felt strong. No, not running, chasing.

A delicate giggle erupted around him, like the tinkle of the sweetest Christmas bell. "Daddy! Daddy! Come find me!" Called the voice, sweet and soothing like honey. A flash of dark brown hair and navy overalls flits by his eye-line, appearing and disappearing amongst the waving wheat.

He growls, like many a demon before him, huffing and puffing and acting every bit the role. He slows now, stalking through the grass, letting his well worn tracking skills take over. It doesn't take long, after all the girl is only a child. He sneaks up behind her, getting her in his sights before snap! His arms come around her waist and suddenly she is in the air. He spins her, more giggles erupt from those perfect little lips. He place her down, his hands now coming to her shoulders. He kneels to get a good look at her, this girl who he has never seen yet feels so close to. Her brown hair is dark and shiny, falling in ringlets down to her shoulders. Her cheeks are round but her chin pointed, her eyes bright and blue. A dusting of freckles spread over her nose, barely peaking out through her summer tan.

It can't be, he thinks. The resemblance is uncanny. "Alice?" he asks, hesitantly.

"Yes Daddy?" His eyes widen in shock. How can this be? His Alice is still a baby, not even a year old yet. This girl is at least five. "Daddy? Is something wrong? Should I get mommy?"

The mention of mommy brings him back to his senses. "Yes love. Let's go see your mother."

He takes her hand and lets her lead the way, weaving back through the fields and coming upon what he now realizes is the homestead. As they bang their way across the porch and through the screen door (it seems their daughter inherited her mother's grace) he is greeted with yet another familiar, yet different sight.

The furniture has remained much the same; warm leather armchairs, farmhouse style kitchen and walls. Wynonna's nesting pillows still decorate the rooms along with a few half dead houseplants. Yet new items have invaded and made a home for themselves too. A warn looking corn blue blanket lays sprawled on the couch. A smattering of toys across the carpet, little rubber boots standing askew next to larger, leather ones.

He let's go of his daughter's hand as she runs in, scooping up the aforementioned blanket and giving it a cuddle. "Did you have fun baby girl?" asks a voice from the kitchen. Doc turns to see her, the mother of his child, drying her hands on a dish cloth and coming towards him. Wynonna smiles, kissing him lightly on the cheek before doing the same to their daughter. She plops down on the couch, scooping up her baby and holding her close.

"Mmhm. Lots. Daddy plays a good demon."

Wynonna gives him a look, smiling. "Does he now?"

"He's not scary like the ones in your stories though mama."

"Oh?" asks Wynonna. "Why is that?"

"Cause Daddy would never hurt me." His daughter's words bring a new sense of emotion to Doc then he thought possible. He had lived well over a hundred years and never felt love like this. He kneels down to look at their daughter, a hand coming up to cup her cheek.

"Never angel. I will protect you, always." He places a kiss on her forehead and pulls back, catching Wynonna's eye. The look she gives him is something else. He feels happy, wanted, loved. Like he has a purpose. A family.

Warmth fills him, slowly at first. A gentle tide lapping at the shore. Then it grows, stronger and brighter, pulling him away from this reality, from the fullness. A flash and then it's gone.

The warmth remains, no longer soothing but burning, unbearable and scorching. Flames dance before his eyes, illuminating the horrific darkness that surrounds him. Moans of despair and screams of agony fill his ears until they feel like they are bleeding. Gone is the peace of the homestead, instead replaced with a feeling he had felt only once before. A feeling so powerful that it drives even the sanest of men to madness. He was in hell. Literal, eternal Hell.

He tried to fight it, as hellfire licked up his legs, the smoke filling his lungs and suffocating him. Not again, not again he thought. His hands cover his ears, trying to block out the sounds. His face crumples in agony. I can't be back, please no!

Suddenly, the scene changes and he is left gasping on his hands in knees in the muddy snow. He coughs and sputters, gulping the cold air. Slowly the shadows leave his vision and he takes in the bleakness before him. He is on a sloping hill, the beginnings of winter's wrath having flattened the prairie grass and turned it into mush. The sky is grey and heavy with clouds. The wind bitter and icy, nipping at his cheeks and hands, which are still buried in the muck. The knees of his jeans are soaked as he manages to stand, unsteady on his feet.

He turns and sees her, Wynonna, he back to him, looking at something. A small, grey block of granite; a grave. He stumbles forwards, reaching for her, but she pulls away. He can see that she's been crying, her cheeks tear stained and wet. He reaches out again and she looks at him like Medusa, turning him to stone.

"You said you'd protect her. You promised me that she would be safe. That breaking the curse would be enough." He stared at her, hopeless and lost. "You swore that if we brought our daughter back into the Triangle that no Revenant or demon would ever get close enough to harm her."

"I..."

"She's dead Doc. Alice is dead because of you. Her body lays in the ground while you still walk this earth."

It's then that he notices the inscription on the stone. 'Alice Michelle Earp. Loved, lost, but never forgotten.'

Her voice drips venom, colder than wind that whips at their coats and hair. "It should be you in there."

Pain seeps in along with sterile hospital air. The dull, droning beep of the heart monitor sounds next to him. A new light fills his vision; this one harsh and blinding. Every bit of him aches. The blankets that cover him are uncomfortable and itchy. The hospital gown is thin and does little to warm him. He pulls a hand up to block the light from his eyes and finds it connected to loads of tubes and wires. "What in tarnation..." he mumbles, before being interrupted by a very excited Jeremy.

"You're awake! Oh my god you're awake! This is awesome." The young nerd smiles at him goofily. Doc isn't quite sure what to say. After a sufficiently awkward pause, Jeremy seems to snap to his senses. "Wynonna! Right. Got to go get Wynonna. Waverly said they should be here any minute."

The young scientist fumbles around, checking his pockets and the chair he was sitting on. Deciding he was prepared he turns to leave, only for Doc to grab hold of his hoodie. "Jeremy.." he coughs. His throat is as dry as sandpaper. "What...?"

"Oh! Oh. Uhh...well.."

His attempted explanation is cut short as she waltzes through the door, a vision in leather like always. Waverly follows behind her, looking somewhere between concerned and annoyed.

"I had food, I took a nap, I showered and changed Waverly. I did as you asked, now let me be with him."

"Wynonna, I..."

"Doc!" She rushed towards him, grasping him against her as best she could with all the wires and such. Her lips pressed against his, then across his skin, peppering him with her relief, her gratitude to whatever deity brought him back to her.

He returned her affections as best he could but an ill placed elbow left him hissing in pain. "Oh shit. Sorry." She quickly pulled back, suddenly afraid to touch him.

He grimaced his forgiveness. "It's not that I do not appreciate such affections, but what pray tell is going on?"

The gaggle of humans in his hospital room stared at him dumbfounded. All he did was rub his tender chest in an attempt to alleviate the pain.

"You were shot you numb-nuts." answered Wynonna. "By some trigger happy, now dead as a door knob Revenant."

He stared back her in confusion. He gestured to his current state, all bandaged and bruised, hooked up to far too many machines for his liking. "How?"

"I can answer that." offered Waverly, injecting herself into the conversation with a smile. "Nicole and I were just leaving the police station when we heard the gun shots and the scream. Nicole called an officer down and we rushed over in the cruiser."

Her smile, as she taunts and teases him. The whistle of the bullet and the thud of the impact. He remembers the searing pain seeping into his chest. The image of Peacemaker aglow in the heir's hand as he laid, sprawled in the dirt.

Officer Haught walked in, adding to her girlfriend's story. "That's when we found you laying on the ground with Wynonna by your side and a scorch mark in the dirt from the opening of hell. Figure you had been attacked by some Revenant. You were bleeding something fierce though. Doctor's weren't so sure you'd make it." Waverly shot Nicole a look. "What? He's alive isn't he?"

"We're glad to have you back." she assured.

"Diddo." echoed Jeremy.

"So glad." added Wynonna, with a meaningful look.

"Come on guys." said Waverly. "Let's go tell the nurses that Doc's awake. They'll want to check up on him and he need's his rest."

Wynonna smiled gratefully, as the other's left the room, sensing that Waverly's suggestion did not included the elder Earp.

Doc eased himself back into the pillows, grumbling with the effort. Sighing heavily, he turned his blue eyes on Wynonna, looking at her expectantly. She smiled, albeit a little awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot.

"Was there something you needed Wynonna?" he asked.

Her lips pinched and rolled as she debated how to answer. He was awake, had come back, just like Waverly had said. They could have those things, she could be honest with him for once.

"Nope. Just uh...wanted to see how you were doing." Chicken shit.

"I've been better." he answered, slowly. A plump, friendly looking nurse entered then and began fussing with his machines. She asked him various questions about his pain, checked his chart and then set up a new bag of clear, liquid fluid to the I.V. drip. As the medicine began to sink in a lazy smiled peaked out from under his mustache. "I'll tell you what though. There is magic in that morphine."

She chuckled. "Magic eh? Care to share?"

"Oh I think I could sweet talk the nurse into setting up some sort of arrangement..." he drawled.

She winked playfully, patting him on the arm. "I think I'll just stick to whisky for now."

"Suit yourself." he shrugged. His eyes beginning to flutter as the painkillers made their way through his veins. The image of Wynonna before him started to swim.

"Hey Doc?"

"Mmm?" was all he could muster.

"I'm really glad you're okay. I...I don't think I can do this without you. "

His body grew slack and his breathing even. He was too far gone to offer a reply, but she could tell by the contented look on his face that he had heard. She leaned forward, placing a delicate kiss on his forehead, gently sweeping his long brown hair back, like he likes it. She admired his mug for a moment, taking in the fine lines of his face and the rough stubble along his jaw. After a moment, she quietly left the room, dimming the lights and shutting the door behind her.