Author's Note: My computer, to quote a certain Trickster/Archangel, is "a great big bag of dicks". I apologize for any inconvenience and chaos I caused on Instagram. I will be sticking with this account, as it has decided to not be an assbutt.

I do not own any aspect of Supernatural. Not it's characters, not it's story line, or any of it. The only thing I own in THIS story, is my character, Alexandra Ballard. I hope you guys enjoy the story.

Introduction:

Alexandra Ballard (or Alex, as she was often called) stood on he balcony outside her apartment door and stared out at the city. A church in the distance was the point that her eyes were fixed on; it's brick building displayed three white crosses. The two smaller ones flanked the larger one, symbolizing Jesus Christ and the two men who were crucified with him that day. If it had not been for Him, there would be no hope or salvation for humanity. No happy ending. The church, she knew, was calling her. Perhaps not the church itself, but certainly something inside it. She could feel it straight down to her bones, like a hum or the pull of a magnet on metal shavings.

"I have to go there..." Alex whispered to no one in particular as she snuffed out her cigarette and walked back inside.

The angel knew she was coming. He stood quietly, staring up at the cross hung before him. He had been warned about his wavering thoughts and had blatantly disobeyed before. Not out of anger, but perhaps out of doubt. He had suffered greatly for those actions. He'd lost many comrades and failed many friends. He had failed himself, as well. The angel looked up, still hoping for the chance to prove he had faith. Worry and doubt plagued him and it made his heart horribly hollow feeling.

Maybe, he thought, this is a chance to make up for those actions.

Chapter One

"Well, here I am..." I push my bangs out of my eyes and stare at the massive wooden doors before me, absentmindedly running my finger tips over the cold, brass handles. Anticipation charges through my blood and mind, though I'm not sure why. "Guess it's time for me to find out why."

I pull the doors open and step inside. The church is empty, save one man clad in a tan trench coat and black pants at the forefront of the red velvet upholstered pews. Along the stone walls candles in wrought iron sconces are lit, flickering gently between beautiful stained glass windows that depict crosses, angels and various biblical figures. My Converse clad feet pad quietly along the crimson red carpet and stop a few feet away from the stranger beneath the cross.

"Hello." I stick my hands in my pockets and rock on my heels. The man doesn't stir. "I get the feeling you might be here for the same reason that I am. Am I right?" I stare anxiously at the cross that he's standing underneath and wait. After a few moments of silence, I frown and turn for the door, feeling irritated and defeated. I'm a moron, I think to myself as I walk.

"What reason do you think that is?" A gravelly voice stops me and I turn to face the speaker.

The man before me is rather attractive and a blush creeps up my cheeks. The contrast between his dark brown hair and impossibly dark blue eyes is striking. He has a clean shaven face and his lips are a perfect pink cupid's bow.

"Truth is, I don't really know." My arms cross over my chest and I fix my attention on the cross hanging above us, tracing the edges with my eyes. "I just felt like I needed to be here, you know? I've walked past this church so many times and I see it every day, but today I felt like I had to come here. Even if I wanted to fight the pull, there's no way I could have succeeded. It's like fate brought me here." When I look over at the man, I find him staring at me with an expression of intense attentionand I shift in discomfort. "Guess that's pretty strange, hm?" I don't usually open up to people like this, I realize with an uncomfortable expression.

He shakes his head. "No. You were called here for a purpose." Those dark blue eyes settle on me heavily. "Alex."

Instantly, my face contorts into an expression of disturbed confusion. "How do you know my name?"

"I have known your name since you were born. My name is Castiel, and I am an angel of the Lord. You were brought here to serve a greater purpose." The answer causes me to raise my eyebrows in surprise and shake my head in disbelief.

A slow whistle sounds from my lips. "A guardian angel, huh?" I squint up at the rafters, trying to decide whether or not to feel amused, worried or something other than those two emotions. "Are you serious?"

"I am always serious." I notice that his sentences sound faintly spliced together. Like this isn't his primary language, I think to myself.

"I gathered that. You're not very up to date on humor and all, are you?"

"So I've been told." He rolls his eyes and gives an irritated huff.

I perk up slightly and stare at him with an amused smile. "Seriously? By who? Because I don't imagine too many people wouldn't just look at you and call you a crack pot if you told them what you told me."

"Dean Winchester accused me in lacking in humor as well. However, I have made progress in that department, I believe." He makes a face that reminds me of nothing other than a determined child. "I can't really tell."

He says nothing for a few moments and I find myself wondering what a normal person would do with the past few minutes. Probably laugh and call this guy crazy, walk away and go back home. Maybe some one would indulge his delusions for a few minutes and then give some patronizing response before leaving. Some people might just walk out to their cars, scoffed and then went back home to crack open a beer and watch some football. A sigh slips through my nose and I roll my eyes.

I'm not a normal person, I guess, because I feel an inexplicable, ineffable belief of his statement. "Suppose I believe you. Then why did I come here..." My teeth sink into my lower lip nervously. "Sorry, what was your name again?" I'm not sure if it's offensive to forget a name, but it sure feels like it right now. Forgetting an angel's name just feels wrong.

"Castiel." The handsome angel lowers his head slightly in acknowledgment. "My name is Castiel."

"Castiel." I repeat after him and my heart flutters slightly, as it often does when I'm anxious or pumped full of adrenaline, causing me to wring my hands and wince. "Would it be horribly inappropriate for me to ask for proof that you're an angel?"

"I assumed that would be a question you ask. It is expected."

He takes a slow, deep breath and closes his eyes. In that instant, the hair on my arms and the back of my neck stands up from the energy in the air. My head snaps towards the candles as they alternate between burning and not burning at all, bright and dark, then up to the electric lights- which are shattering overhead. I yelp and yank my hood over my head, just in time to witness the shadows of two massive wings cover the walls of the church. Light bulbs crash and explode on the ground.

"Okay. Okay," I yelp, and, as quickly as the display begins, it stops. "I can't dispute the evidence." I swallow nervously and hold out my hand. The angel looks at me with an ever-so-slightly amused smile. "Nice to meet you, Castiel."

The angel frowns at me and his head twitches to the side like a confused puppy. I reach down and take his hand, giving it a firm shake before releasing it and sitting down in a pew. "This is so surreal." I run my hands through my hair and Castiel sits next to me.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for a human," I chuckle and shake my head as I stare at my hands. "finding out I have a hot guardian angel is like something from a fairy tale or a movie. I'm not sure how to react."

"My vessel's body temperature is normal." Castiel's reply makes me laugh and I shake my head at him.

"It's slang, Castiel. I mean that you're attractive."

His dark eyes flit around for a moment as though gauging whether or not I'm being sarcastic before frowning at his body. "This is not my natural form."

I roll my eyes. "Nonetheless, it's the you that I'm interacting with now, and I think it's attractive."

"Thank you." He says and stands up, cocking his head to the side at me. "You wanted to know why I brought you here, correct?"

I jump up after him and bounce on my toes nervously. "Yes. Yes, I did."

"Very well. I'll explain, but," He cranes his neck to look down around the church. "let's continue this conversation in a less public area." In an impossibly fast movement, he presses two fingers to my forehead and I find myself back in my living room.

"Woah!" I stumble and catch myself on my sofa. "That's awesome! How did you do that?!" I'm fairly certain my eyes are the size of saucers.

The angel rolls his eyes in exasperation and sits down next to me. "Dean Winchester calls it 'angel mojo'. Angels have powers far beyond that of humans, but we have limitations as well. We can travel faster than humans can comprehend, but, it isn't actually instantaneous." He appears near my window and shuts the blinds, nodding to me. I take the hint and turn on my chandelier light.

"Whatever you want to call it," I stand up and hang my coat up before I walk off to the kitchen. "that was awesome. I can't argue with evidence." I reach up to my cupboard and grab a wine glass. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"No." His reply is harsh and short. "Thank you." The sentence tacked on is quiet and I smile.

I pour some red wine into my glass and bring the bottle with me, settle into the recliner across from Castiel and kick off my shoes. "So... What's my purpose?"

"It's not quite simple enough for me to explain as casually as your inquiry." He laces his fingers together on his lap and shifts uncomfortably. "You're special. For some reason or another, God has seen fit for you to assist the Winchesters in their endeavors."

"God?"

"Yes. God, the Heavenly Father, the Lord and Creator." Castiel shifts on the sofa and pins me with a serious expression.

My incredulity is evident, I'm sure as I take a sip of my wine. "You talk to God and he just happened to mention me?"

"Not exactly. You were brought to the church where I was by a feeling he gave you." The angel sits stiffly on the sofa and stares at me intently. "I was told by those who are higher up than I that you are to play a part in the Winchester's stories, however."

"I can accept that." The statement brings me an odd sense of calm. "But, what is my part to be, Castiel?"

"Essentially, you're going to become a demon hunter and assistant to Sam and Dean Winchester." A frown furrows his brow and he shakes his head. "They often need help and cannot find any. I believe that you are supposed to help them."

I cough and interrupt him. "Demon hunter?"

"Yes." He confirms it for me and I stare at him blankly.

"As in demons. Real demons?" My inquiry doesn't feel real coming from my mouth, but, then again, I think... There's an angel of the Lord on my couch.

"Yes. Demons, ghosts, crocattas, wraiths, tulpas..." He rattles off a list of creatures, most of which I've never even heard of, before pausing and staring at me in perplexity. "You don't believe me?"

I shake my head adamantly. "I didn't say I don't believe you, but I will say that this is insane." I look down at my wine and finish it in silence. "This kind of thing just doesn't happen to normal people. I feel like..." A pause silences me momentarily and I try to draw a mental comparison. The closest thing in my mind is a story book hero. "A hero in a story who just had a major quest thrown at her." I swallow a large gulp of wine.

"Is it really that unbelievable?" Castiel's perplexity is evident in his face. "After all, you believe that I'm an angel."

"Right, but," I pour more wine in my glass before continuing. "you have to consider the fact that I have evidence of that fact. I mean, with the whole wings and flashing lights debacle back in the church, it's kind of undeniable."

"When Sam and Dean Winchester arrive, I will give you proof of the existence of demon hunting as well."

I don't know how I'm supposed to get proof of the existence of demon hunters, unless they have some kind of ID cards or badges. Let alone demons, but, I set those facts aside for the moment in my mind. "Ummm..." I shove my bangs off my face and give Castiel an acerbic expression. "Castiel, what do you mean when Sam and Dean Winchester arrive? Are they coming here?"

The angel nods. "Yes. They should be here in about three hours."

With a deep sigh I cradle my head in my hands.

"Is that okay?"

"Yes, Castiel. It's fine." I mumble into my hands, not bothering to look up at him.

Silence follows for a few minutes and I don't move.

"Are you okay?" The angel asks me.

Am I okay? I repeat his question in my head. No. Not by a long shot. My existence has been thrown into potential danger and chaos by an angel from God. Who can say they're okay after that? I smile with no emotion and look up. "Yeah. I'm fine."

"You don't seem fine." His deep blue eyes are shadowed by concern as they meet mine. I didn't even realize he had moved, but he kneels in front of me and I'm suddenly aware of the fact that I'm exceptionally warm. "Actually," Castiel stares at me with a look of disapproval. "your pupils are dilated and your cheeks are flushed. Perhaps you shouldn't have any more alcohol."

Reflexively swallowing hard against the tightness in my throat, I find myself hoping he is naive enough to not notice that he's making me horribly nervous.

"It's almost eleven..." I hurriedly change the subject by looking down at my phone. "Come on, you can help me set up my guest room."

"I don't sleep." Castiel remarks as he rises and steps back from me. With a heartbeat that is too rapid for my tastes, I start off towards my guest bedroom.

"Yeah, I get that. But," I wave a hand for him to follow me. "your friends will most likely be exhausted. It's only fair that they get a decent room to sleep in." I pull the door open and throw a wide arm out at the room. "You see? Nice bedroom."

Castiel's expression is one of pleasant surprise and he bobs his head in agreement.

"I just wish I had more answers." I state as I open my closet and remove spare bedding I keep on hand. Castiel takes several pillows and blankets before walking over to the bed and making it up.

I open up the sofa bed and spread a sheet on it, trying to postulate some answers in my head. By the time that the bed is made, I find myself still devoid of answers.

"I guess I should probably get to bed here soon myself." My skin feels warm and tingly from the two glasses of wine I've had tonight. "Castiel?" My fingers knot themselves together in front of me and look over at the angel who is plumping pillows. "I don't understand. Why me?"

He squeezes a pillow tightly in the dim room and sets it on the bed before crossing over to stand in front of me. "You'll understand later." Those beautiful blue eyes give me a stern expression and he presses his fingers to my head, wrapping an arm around my waist. "Just go to sleep for now."

"Dammit..." The word slips out in a whisper as my head lolls.

(Castiel's POV)

"She's sleeping off a sleeping spell. She reacted quite well to the news." My voice is hushed as I look over my shoulder at her bedroom door.

"What do you mean?" Dean Winchester's rough voice comes through the cell phone in disbelief. "Cass, please tell me you didn't just throw the truth at her?"

I frown at the glowing screen. "I didn't throw the truth at her. I spoke it."

"Geez, Cass... Alright. Well, she's sleeping, right? Because we're going to be there in about an hour and a half."

"Yes."

"Alright. See you then."

Dean hangs up and I slip into Alex's room and sigh as I look down at her sleeping form. She's so peaceful now, curled up under the blanket. I hesitantly reach down and brush a piece of her hair away from her face. She doesn't stir from her sleep and I sigh, kneeling down next to her cautiously.

"I'm sorry that you're getting dragged into this, Alex. Truly, I am. But, I believe you can help them. And, I believe that you'll be a great hunter." A pang of some emotion I don't recognize makes my chest tighten. "I promise I'll keep you safe... Just as I have since Killian and Marie died. Your parents were good people, and they're proud of you. I won't let anything happen to you."

I rise and head towards the door.

"Whatever it takes."

I groan and roll out of bed gracelessly, heading to the bathroom to pop a few asprin. Every time I drink wine I forget that I get hangovers from it. Will I never learn? As I rub at my eyes, I hear voices from somewhere in my apartment. After I brush my teeth and comb my hair into some semblance of order, I go out to investigate.

When I enter my living room, I find my guardian angel sitting across from two handsome men dressed in street clothes. Castiel jumps up nervously and gives an apologetic expression.

"Um, Alex. These are the Winchesters."

"I'm Sam." He stands up and the first thing I notice about him is how tall he is. He has a strong jaw and a kind smile, I notice as he holds out one hand, the other tucked into the pocket of his well-worn jacket. I take his hand and my eyes flit up to his eyes. Sam's eyes are a brilliant shade of green, like his brother's. But, they're much more kind and seem hopeful. His straight eyebrows convey a soft expression. "Nice to meet you, Alex. Sorry to drop in on you like this, I know you weren't exactly expecting us."

I squeeze his hand before I release it and nod at Castiel. "I wasn't expecting him, either. Apparently you two aren't surprised though." The angel's eyes widen and he looks away distractedly.

Sam Winchester drops my hand and squints, tilting his head to see my eyes. "You're hung over, aren't you?" A smirk forms on his lips and reveals his teeth in sympathetic amusement.

A chuckle escapes my mouth and I nod, rubbing my temples. "Yep. I am."

"Ah, I see." Sam laughs at me before walking back to the sofa and lounging in it, shaking his head. The other Winchester, who I figure to be Dean, gives me an devastatingly charming smile. The kind that if this were a cartoon would make any woman in any room faint dramatically. "Dean Winchester. It's definitely a pleasure to meet you, Alex." His green eyes sparkle mischieviously under his perfectly arched eyebrows and I feel a blush color my face and neck. His eyes are intense, holding depths of emotion that most people wouldn't register past his handsome face and playful mannerisms. Luckily for me I have a fair background in psychology and am adept at reading body language, I thank myself as I try to ignore the blush rising on my cheeks.

"Um, nice to meet you too, Dean." I stutter and jerk my thumb over my shoulder, backing out of the living room. "I'm going to go take a shower."

Feeling like a stupid teenager, I hurry off and grab clean clothes. My face and neck are still red and warm from blushing as I turn on the water. My hands instinctively fold my clothes up and drop them in a pile in the corner before I step into the refreshing shower. The hot water pelts my skin and I sigh while rubbing shampoo into my hair. I don't get how I'm supposed to help those two. They look perfectly competent. They're both clearly hunters though. Quick reflexes, and by the way they move, they're probably pretty strong.

I just don't see what help I could be. And me, hunting demons? That's a concept, to say the least.

"Alex?" I hear Castiel's voice and grind my teeth before poking my head out of the shower curtain and staring at him blankly. He fixes me with an equally deadpan face. "Are you alright?"

"I'm hungover, but, yes, I'm alright. Why?" I stick my head back in the shower and slather face wash on my face, quickly holding up a finger outside the curtain. "Just a sec, I can't hear you." The grapefruit scented soap runs down to the drain and makes me feel less grungy. "Okay, what were you saying?"

"Is there anything you'd like us to do while you get around."

I stick my head out again and smile gratefully. "Yes. Can you cook?"

He shakes his head. "No. But, I'm sure Sam or Dean can." His nose curls in disgust. "Though I wouldn't trust Dean's cooking..."

"Good. Can you get them started on breakfast? There's stuff in my kitchen, I'm sure they can make something out of what's there."

With a brisk nod, Castiel disappears and I finish my shower in peace. It brings me a small amount of comfort to go about my regular routine of blowdrying my hair into it's bobbed state and putting my makeup on. I clean the bathroom up and dress in jeans and a grey thermal, topping it with a blue hoodie. Much more awake, I nod in satisfaction and go out to my kitchen. What I see makes me pause and laugh.

Sam and Dean had shed their jackets and brought out a laptop that perched precariously on my fridge, blasting classic rock. The contrast between the two is as striking as the similiarities, however. Sam is clearly the more personable, sweeter of the two, with longer hair giving him a more relaxed appearance than Dean's more militant, short cut. Dean seems like a bounder type, a charmer, I think as I cross my arms and lean against the doorway to watch their interaction.

The brothers were arguing playfully over who makes better scrambled eggs, and just when they were about to break into a round of Rock-Paper-Scissors, I stepped in.

"Sorry, guys, but," I crack six eggs into the bowl, add pepper and salt and look up at Sam's surprised face. "I make the best eggs. Can you grab me a pepper?"

Sam sniffs and shakes his head, a wide smile on his face. "Sure." He reaches in my fridge and tosses me a pepper. I chop it up, beat the eggs, add the pepper and pour them in the skillet. The laptop fades out of a Creedence Clearwater Revival song and into "Dust in the Wind" by Kansas.

"Ooh. I love this song." I remark in passing. Dean flashes me an approving smile and I hum along to the song. Sam starts singing quietly and I glance over at him in surprise before joining in. He can actually sing okay, I note with a barely concealed smile. "I think I'm going to like you two."

"Of course!" Dean says with a scoff. "How could you not? We're awesome."

I burst out laughing and Dean plays air-guitar with a spatula before he turns back to the bacon, loading it onto a plate and sliding it in the oven to keep warm.

Sam winks at me and jams a pancake in his brother's mouth when he comes up. Dean grins and eats the pancake before he slaps Sam with a piece of uncooked bacon.

"Ugh, man! Gross!" Sam cringes, but is laughing at his brother's antics. After piling pancakes onto a cookie sheet, he slips them into the oven too and adds more to the skillet. I move the scrambled eggs into the oven on the same sheet as the pancakes before popping toast into the toaster. "So, Alex," the tall Winchester pushes his sleeves up. I notice several scars and other marks, but I don't comment. "how are you holding up?"

I hold my tongue for a few moments, toting dishes and glasses out to the table gaves me time to think of a response. The brothers bring the food out to the table and I bring butter and syrup.

"I guess, I'm still in shock." The answer is honest and Dean nods understandingly, dragging his had along his jaw. "I mean, I'm suppposed to jump up and become a demon hunter with you two, right?" They look at one another with thoughtful expressions for a moment and bob their heads in agreement. "But, I don't know anything about you two, nor do I know anything about the job." I butter a slice of my toast and shove a strip of bacon in my mouth before I grab orange juice from the refridgerator.

Dean laughs out loud at me. "That makes sense though. Normal people aren't supposed to react to things like this like they do to reading a news paper or something." His eyebrows arch perfectly, which is slightly intimidating. "But, you seem to be handling it pretty well," he remarks before stepping out of the kitchen.

I snort at that before grabbing the eggs out of the skillet and bringing them to the table where the brothers had already started serving themselves.

I plop down into a seat and stab some pancakes, dragging them onto my plate along with some bacon. My head shakes. "I'm not really though. I'm angry, I'm confused, and I want answers."

Sam purses his lips and cuts a piece of his pancake off. I pour orange juice into a glass for myself and pass it to him.

"Mm, 'anks!" Sam mumbles with a mouth full of pancake as he pours some juice for himself, which Dean promptly swipes. Sam swallows his food and glares at his brother. "Jerk."

"Bitch." Dean retorts under his breath. Sam rolls his eyes.

"So," Dean squints and impatiently puts almost a whole pancake drenched in melted butter and syrup in his mouth before pointing a fork at me. He swallows it and continues talking. "what has Castiel told you?"

"Not a whole hell of a lot. He rattled off a couple dozen types of monsters, but that's about it. He said I'm supposed to help you guys hunt down demons and stuff?"

Dean purses his lips. "That's pretty much it." Sam scoffs irritatedly and punches his brother in the arm with a resounding thud. "OW!"

Sam glares at me. "That's not it at all. Ignore him." I slice my pancake up and listen to him. "Apparently the angels sensed that you're in tune with this kind of thing and think we need your help or something. Maybe you've seen a ghost or that sort of thing?"

I feel my face pale of color and both of the Winchesters stare at me, eyebrows raised with attention. "Yeah... I have. And it isn't like people think it is."

"Very true." Sam says sadly and Dean toys with his flask pensively. "We've been through that before. However, that gives you an advantage. You have a little more knowledge than the average person."

"I guess." I shrug uncomfortably and look at Dean. He's pouring liquid from his silver flask into his orange juice. I shove my glass towards him silently and he nods in understanding, dumping some into my orange juice. I pull the glass back to me and drink some. Tastes like vodka, I decide. My stomach knots and I force the pancake in my mouth down my throat. "I have a thousand questions."

Sam' pulls a face at me that says "go figure" and laughs shortly. "Makes sense. Ask away!"

"Well..." I shift in my chair and cross my legs. "How come my grandfather was so aggressive before his ghost disappeared last year? Gramps was always a bit crabby, but he was never mean. Towards the end there, whenever he showed up, things were shattering..." A small choking sound comes from Dean and startles me, causing me to look at him in surprise. I find his jaw set in a tight grimace and I notice his eyes are distinctly tear filled. When I glance at Sam, his are too. "I... I take it you guys have..."

Sam swallows hard and nods quickly. "Yeah... We've experienced that." He is quiet and Dean excuses himself to the bathroom. Once the door shuts, Sam's mouth quirks and his brow knots in a sad expression. "Bobby, the man who was pretty much our Dad..." Sam Winchester pauses and stares at his plate. "He died. But, he stayed around for a while after that. You see, traditional lore isn't completely wrong. Spirits that died a violent death or feel they have unfinished business are sometimes strong enough to remain. Or, if there's an object they valued, they can follow it."

"Like a tether?" I ask, swigging my orange juice and wincing at the vodka's bite.

Sam nods briskly. "Exactly. He wanted vengeance on the thing that killed him. That vengeance or hatred in a person can cause their spirit to be tainted. They become an evil spirit the longer they're here, or what we call a poltergeist." He twirls a pancake around in the puddle of syrup on his plate. "They lose who they were."

My heart feels twisted in pain and tears leak out of the corner of my eyes uncontrollably. "Gramps..." I choke down the urge to cry. "Gramps was killed in a robbery three years ago. He was around for a few weeks until he finally disappeared."

"That's not a bad thing, Alex." Sam says, squeezing my hand. "That probably means that he was becoming dangerous and a hunter put him to rest."

"What does that entail?" I'm forced to ask what it means and Sam squeezes my hand once more before letting go and taking a deep breath.

"Salting and burning the remains if a person wasn't cremated." He eats a pancake piece after that, in an attempt to stop the conversation.

"Grandpa was cremated." I interject, causing Sam's expression to become more downcast than it was and me to fall silent.

"In that case, whatever they were most attached to..." He brushes a piece of his hair back behind his ear and aimlessly stirs a piece of pancake in syrup. "is found and burned."

My face goes blank with realization. "Grandma's wedding ring."

Sam's handsome tan face pales and he says nothing, as Dean stalks down the hall and sits down again. He takes a straight gulp of his flask and I stare at my blue table cloth and hold my hand out. Instantly he hands me the flask and I, too, take a straight gulp of it. I'm forced to chase it with orange juice, but, I repeat the process before handing it back to Dean.

"Excuse me, would you? I apologize." The brothers nod and continue eating their breakfasts in solemn silence, not even looking at one another. I grab my orange juice sheepishly and drink it all, putting it in the kitchen sink before grabbing my jacket and stepping outside on my balcony. I slide down the glass door and stare out at the church, lighting my cigarette with a shaking hand and inhaling the mentholated smoke.

"Why would you send me to the church, God?" I question in a whisper to the air. The only answer I get is the rush of traffic and the faint sound of wind rustling the trees. "What good could possibly come of this?"

A hollow knock vibrates the glass, interrupting my thoughts and I glance up to see Dean standing on the other side. He points to the balcony, then to himself. I scoot away from the glass and he steps out, cautiously shuts the door enough that we don't get locked out, and sits next to me.

"Rough morning, huh?" He inquires, gesturing at my cigarette.

"You better believe it," A soft huff sounds from my nose and I jerk my head to the side. "Especially if I've resorted to this."

"I can't understand that, to tell you the truth. I was born into this." He tells me, squinting out at the city. "Saving people, hunting things; the family business." The older Winchester's voice is tinged with sarcasm as he stares out at the distance. "It all started when our Mom was killed. Sammy was six months old, I was four. Dad was obsessed with finding the thing that killed her." I exhale a puff of smoke and watch it disappear in the breeze. Patience is a virtue, I remind myself as I wait for him to continue.

"Turns out it was a demon. Scum sucking yellow eyed bastard named Azazel." The muscles along Dean's jaw twitch and he shakes his head in disgust. "He'd been planning to use human kids who he'd given demon blood to when they were babies to create an army. Sammy was one of those kids. We stopped the son of a bitch, but, he killed Sam's girlfriend and our Mom." His fingers unscrew the cap of his flask and he takes a pull from it. "A lot of other people died in between the time we found out what Azazel was and when we finally ganked that son of a bitch."

He stretches his legs out and crosses his arms over his chest, still looking out at the blue sky. "I don't even know what normal is. What's normal to feel when you destroy a werewolf or a vampire, or exorcise a demon, or get rid of a poltergeist once a week? Am I supposed to feel sad, knowing they were people once too, or something?" After a long moment of silence, Dean stops squinting and turns his eyes to me. "Basically," His eyes settle on my blue ones and I realize I hadn't noticed how brilliantly green they are before. "if you weren't shaken up by this a bit, I'd think you weren't human. I don't know that I am anymore."

He doesn't say anything else before he stands up and goes back inside. Long after my cigarette has burned itself out and I had tossed it away, I sit hunched up, hugging my legs to my chest, watching cars go by. Most of them are grey or white, a few are black. A motorcycle zips by like a bee towards a flower, followed by a pale blue Volkswagen. Feeling numb, I walk back inside.

Sam and Dean are slouched on my sofa, and the dishes are all stacked up nicely on the table. I plop down next to them and Sam's leg rests against mine once I'm settled into the beige cushion. He taps my arm and I say nothing, I simply nod at him. He leans in close and I stiffen as his fingers brush my hair away from my ear.

"I know it sounds harsh, but, it's honestly the best thing. No one should be cursed to be a poltergeist and exist in hatred." The whisper in my ear brings me back to what is now my reality and I lean my head back against the sofa.

"How the hell am I supposed to learn everything I need to know without a few years, at least?" I ask him, staring at the blades of my ceiling fan.

"Castiel said he has a plan." Dean states bluntly, his deep voice sounds cold. "If only he'd show up."

"I nearly forgot about him," I admit, scratching my head with a glare. "where did he run off to?"

"He never tells us." Sam states, stretching his long legs out and yawning loudly. "I'm tired."

"You're tired?" I exclaim, looking at him in disbelief. His eyes are wide in surprise and he shrugs defensively. "Unbelievable."

Dean stands up and walks off to the guest bedroom. When he comes back, he's carrying a weathered green duffel bag, which he tosses on the floor and unzips. "We need to make this place secure."

"Oh... Right." Sam mumbles and practically slides off the sofa onto the floor. He grabs a can of white spray paint and salt.

"Uhhh... Guys?" I point at their arsenal of salt, spray paint and what looks like a small jar of blood. "What the hell is all that for?"

"Salt repels spirits for a bit, spray paint for devil's traps and sigils. The blood is mine and Sam's, and that's for anti-angel spell work." Dean explains as he pulls things out of the mystery bag.

"Anti-angel spells? I thought angels were good guys."

Dean shakes his head and his handsome face is not amused at all. "Nope. They're kind of assholes, actually. Except Cas." He pauses and makes an admitting expression. "Well, sometimes he's an asshole too."

Sam makes an apologetic face at me and motions for me to follow him.

He crosses over to my door and locks it. "Do you have a rug?"

"You guys are going to ruin my apartment!" I whine, settling my face in a pout and crossing my arms over my chest. "In the closet..." I answer begrudginly. Sam retrieves the dark blue rug and tosses it towards the wall before spray painting a giant circle over the floor. "Wait... There's nothing there, Sam."

I hear Dean laugh across the room. "I knew she was going to say that. You owe me a burger, Sammy!"

Sam growls and stalks over to the bag, grabbing a light. "Here." He hands it to me and points at the ground. "Can you shine that over the carpet?"

"I guess." I click the light on and mentally berate myself when a large circle glows in the UV light. "Glow in the dark paint!"

Sam grins and sprays a giant star inside the circle, carefully ensuring that the lines are solid, then puts symbols in each blank space on the outside of the star inside the circle. He points the spray paint can at the ground and looks at me. "This, is a Devil's Trap. Any demon that steps inside of that will be trapped, just like the name says. We figured that putting it in glow in the dark paint would probably be less suspicious than red, especially considering that this is an apartment." He smudges the paint at the edge. "If the paint isn't completely solid, a demon can just walk right out. Here," He holds his hands out, one holding the spray paint. "switch me. Go ahead and fix it."

"Okay. Sure," I push my hair back off my face in annoyance. "I'll help deface my rental flat." I shake the paint and spray the spot where Sam broke the circle. He just laughs at me.

"Wait," I grab his arm as he turns away from me. He stops and stares at me in mild surprise. "are you guys anticipating an attack on this place?"

Dean pauses in his spray painting and looks over his shoulder incredulously. "Of COURSE not! But, these things do happen." He turns back to his spray painting a sigil on my wall. "Better safe than sorry."

I slump down on my sofa and bury my face in my hands with a groan. "I can't believe this..."

Sam walks past and chuckles, but I don't see him. I sit listening as they spray paint and open containers, close them, move things and replace objects and finally, after a while, stop moving.

"We're done, Alex."

"If I move my hands, am I going to have an aneurism?" I fear to remove my hands from my face, imagining what they might have done to my apartment.

"That'll ruin the surprise!" Dean exclaims. I can tell he's an older brother, because his voice distinctly sounds of perverse amusement. Just like my older brothers sound like when they pick on me.

I peer through the crack in my fingers and slowly move my hands, frowning. Everything looks the same to me. My framed paintings are still hung on the walls, my curtains aren't coated in paint, the flowers are still in their vase on the table, and everything seems in perfect order.

"Pretty good, eh?" Dean's expression is one of smug pride. "We've got this down to a science. The blood sigil is painted on the bookshelf behind your books on the middle shelf and also behind the calendar on the wall. The devil's trap is on the floor by the door, there's holy water in the vase and we have..." A long silver blade drops out of his sleeve and he holds it up, inspecting it in the light. "an angel blade here that can kill angels and demons."

"Hey!" Sam grins. "You finally mastered the up-the-sleeve trick that Cas does!"

Dean returns his brother's grin from ear to ear. "Yup!"

"Can I see that?" I ask, crossing the room and walking over to Dean. He hands me the angel blade and I toy with holding it different ways. I decide that holding it with the blade parallel to my arm is the best bet. "Can I have one of these, do you think?"

Dean snaps it back from me. "Nope! This is mine."

"Fine... Jerk. And blood sigils on the bookshelf sounds like a demented adult Goosebumps story," I mumble while crossing over to the shelf and pulling my books out. Lo and behold, there really is a strange symbol painted in blood on the back. "that being said, is this a one time use?" I snap a picture on my phone and save it before moving over to the bag and grabbing the UV light. I shine it on the carpet where Sam sprayed the devil trap and I snap a picture of that, too.

Dean makes a strangely impressed, albeit very amused face and stands there with his hands in his pockets. Sam smiles in amazement, his head tilted to the side a bit. "Yeah. It loses it's power after one use. You're really taking this seriously, aren't you?"

My hands instinctively burrow into my pockets and I shrug. "From what I understand, this isn't something I can be cavalier about. So, yes, I am taking this seriously." I suppress a smile as I walk off to my bedroom and pull out a black, leatherbound notebook. I've been looking for a reason to use this, I reflect, running my hand over the smooth cover and pulling the ribbon out of the binding. What better use than to record the knowledge about being a demon hunter?

"So," I sit down on the floor with a pen and my notebook and smile humorlessly. "where do we start?"