Important note: You may have noticed from my profile that I am redoing all of my stories. I'm starting with Three Knives, and basically rewriting the whole thing. That being said, I don't want to take this story down, because I think it stands pretty well on it's own. So yeah, just in case you were wondering why I have a sequel to a story that isn't finished yet, there is indeed a fucked up method to my apparent madness.
Bobby Singer had just gotten back from an exhausting trip, helping out an old friend with an Acheri he'd been having trouble with. He sat back in his desk, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and was about to take a drink, when the phone rang. He got a lot of phone calls regularly. He acted for most of the hunters as the number that you gave to the person who didn't quite buy into your FBI cover. He gave them the speech about how he had dispatched agents to investigate this that and the other thing, yada yada yada. He reached the phone, and picked it up.
"Yeah?" he asked.
"Bobby?" the person, a man asked from the other end. He sounded hoarse.
"Yeah?" he said again.
"It's me," they said.
"Who's "me"?" Bobby asked. He'd dealt with more than his fair share of vague, unspecific-
"Dean," the voice on the other end said. Bobby froze for a second, and then hung up the phone angrily. Dean was dead. In hell. No way that was Dean. It was someone else, probably someone who had a grudge against him(Probably Sheldon Beet, bastard). He started to walk away, but the phone rang again from behind him.
"Who is this?" he asked.
"Bobby, listen to me," the voice said. Bastard didn't even sound like Dean.
"This ain't funny. Call again, I'll kill ya," Bobby said. He slammed the phone onto the receiver, and stomped back to his desk, sitting down and grabbing his drink, spilling a bit of it on the floor, but not really minding. What was one more spill, one more stain on the floor?
Some part of him briefly considered the notion that Dean was back from hell, that he had gotten out somehow. After all, Alice had managed it. He shoved it down, reminding him self that A, Alice had a devils gate opened for her, B, she hadn't made a deal for her soul, so she technically still owned it, and C, it was Alice freaking Smith he was talking about. The phone rang again, and he stomped over to it.
"I told you, stop calling me you dick," he said.
"What?" the voice from the other end asked. It wasn't the same voice. He took a breath, and shook his head at himself.
"Sorry, I though you were someone else. Who's this?" he asked.
"Aaron Filium. I'm calling on behalf of one Doris Dory," he said.
"I don't know any Doris Dory. You've got the wrong number," Bobby said.
"You are Bobby Singer, right?" Aaron asked.
"Yeah," Bobby said, trying to think of anyone he knew named Doris Dory. Nothing was coming to mind.
"She's been admitted into a phsychiatric facility, and she said it was very important that I call you," Aaron said.
"Right. Umm... What's she look like?" Bobby asked. It might be someone using a fake name, which happened quite a bit in the hunting business.
"Medium height, hazel-ish eyes, bushy dark blond hair, and she's these scars on her arms-"
"Where's she at?" Bobby asked sharply.
"Oh, so you do know her?" Aaron asked.
"Yeah, I do. Where is she?" Bobby asked again.
"New Breten Phsychiatric Ward," Aaron said.
"Is that New Breten Montana?" Bobby asked.
"Yes," Aaron said.
"Good, I know where that is," Bobby said. He hung up the phone before Aaron could say another word. He grabbed his jacket, and ran out the door, not bothering with anything else.
It was night, and two days later. Dean Winchester was outside of Bobby's house, pounding on his door.
"Bobby! Bobby, open up, it's me!" he said. He didn't hear anything from inside the house, and all of the lights were off. He was probably out on a hunt. Damn it.
He walked around the house, trying all of the first floor windows, though he wasn't really expecting any of them to be unlatched. Hunters didn't generally leave their windows open. He apologised to Bobby internally, before breaking one of his windows to get in. He needed to get ahold of someone he knew, and get help. Right now was possibly the most freaked out about any situation he'd ever been, and he wanted answers. He remembered all of his time in hell(longer than he wanted to think about), and a bright light, and than nothing. Until he'd woken up in a pine box, under six feet of dirt. He'd dug himself out, and seen some serious destruction around the grave site. He figured that he had been buried in a clearing in the middle of some woods, but there wasn't much left but an enormous clearing when he'd come back, apparently. That meant that however he'd gotten back, it must have been something powerful, and chances were, bad. Not the mention the weird ringing. It had happened twice so far, once in a gas station(it hurt his ears like- well, not like hell, and blew out all the windows), and once more in a car he'd been riding shutgun trying to get here(The car broke down, again, all the windows blown out). So he would have been freaked out even if he wasn't aware of all the bad crap out there.
He'd tried all of Alices numbers that he knew, and all of Sams. The difference between Alice and Sam was that Dean knew that Alice was significantly better at covering her tracks than Sam. If Alice didn't want to be found, he wasn't going to find her. Sam on the other hand, he knew Sam inside and out. He could find Sam, and he also knew that there was a chance that where ever Sam was, Alice was with him.
He hoped it wasn't the case, but he more than suspected that Sam had made some sort of deal to get him out of hell. That would suck like a bitch, because then he'd have to find some way to get Sam out of his deal. He found a laptop buried under a pile of papers and empty whiskey bottles on the dining room table, and settled down with the phone.
"Hello? Yeah, hi, I have a cell phone account with you guys, and uh, I lost my phone. I was wondering if you could turn the GPS on for me. Yeah. Name's Wedge Antilles. Social is 2-4-7-4. Thank you," he said. "Sammy, that's just sloppy," he mumbled under his breath. But then again, Sam had probably figured Dean was the last person who would be looking for him, and Dean was the only person who knew Sam well enough to guess he would use that ID.
He went to a website, and input the code she had given him. The laptop beeped, and the display showed a city map with a blue arrow pointing to a star. The locator read, 'Phone Location: 263 Adams Road, Pontiac, Illinois'.
"Coincidentally, right by where I popped back up," Dean muttered to himself. He stood, thinking there was very little chance that was coincidence. He'd hitch-hiked to get here, but he was sure that Bobby wouldn't mind lending him one of the twenty some odd cars that were in working condition just lying around the lot.
Bobby took short rest breaks the first two days, but drove straight through the last night, anxious to get to New Breten. He'd been looking for Alice for almost three months now, not because he cared much for her, but because he did care about Sam, and Sam staying alive, and there was a chance that Alice either knew where Sam was, or had him with her. Although the chances that the latter were true were minimal since she was, apparently, in a mental hospital. Probably right where she belongs too, he thought.
Bobby walked into the lobby in a suit. Alice had given them his real name, which was going to make some problems for him, since he was posing as an FBI agent(Just in case), but he had a backup plan in case things went south.
"Hi, I'm special agent Robert Singer, I heard that you have a Ms. Doris Dory with you," he said.
"Yes, she was brought in a week ago," the woman said.
"I don't suppose I could see her," Bobby said.
"Well she's quite dangerous Mr. Singer. She was found in a hotel room when nearby residents reported hearing screams, torturing a man. They said there were satanic symbols all over the place, and it took seven men and a tranquilizer to subdue her. We're just keeping her here until she can be transferred to a more secure facility," the woman said.
"That's why I'd like to see her," Bobby said, pulling his badge out. The womans eyebrows shot up immediately, and he could practically hear ten dozen questions running through her mind simultaneously.
"Uhm, of course Mr- Agent Singer. Uhm... Timmy," she called to a man dressed in a guards uniform who was sitting on a bench, reading a newspaper. He looked up when she called, and she pointed to Bobby.
"Would you take Agent Singer here to see Ms. Dory?" she asked.
"I thought no one was allowed in," he said.
"Agent Singer," she stressed.
"Oh... Oh, right," Timmy said, putting the newspaper down on the bench and standing, and heading over to the desk. The woman handed Bobby a sheet of paper and a pen.
"Just the one thing, you need to sign this," she said. Bobby looked it over, and snorted derisively when he saw it was a release form, clearing the hospital of all responsibility for any injuries recieved to visitors on the premises. He signed it, and handed it back to her, and followed Timmy through the halls. Timmy was a young man, maybe in his early twenties, with messy black hair, and pointy looking elbows.
"So, I don't want to be pressing or anything, but I thought the cops said they were through with her for now," Timmy said.
"I ain't a cop," Bobby said.
"Oh. What then?" Timmy asked, confused.
"FBI," Bobby said.
"Oh," Timmy said. "What do you guys want with her?" he asked.
"That's federal business," Bobby said simply. Timmy licked his lips, but didn't say anything else. They walked for a few more minutes, before he stopped at a door, hesitating before speaking. "We've tried to keep her sedated, but the tranquilizers don't work too well. She's got some sort of resistance to them," Timmy said.
Bobby nodded. "Got it. I need a few minutes alone with her," he said.
"How many?" Timmy asked, unlocking the door and pulling it open.
"Ten or so," Bobby said, stepping into the room. Timmy nodded, and stayed by the door. The room inside was small, but not necessarily cramped. The only things in the room were a chair, and a bed, and Alice was strapped to the bed, wearing what he guess was the standard outfit for patients at this place. She was pale, and sweaty, and skinnier than the last time he'd seen her. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her hair looked like it hadn't been brushed in weeks. She was staring straight up at the ceiling blankly, her mouth open slightly.
"Alice?" he asked.
There were a few seconds that she didn't respond. He was about to speak again, when she turned her gaze to him slowly. "Hey Singer," she said, dry lips curving up in a small smile. Her voice was hoarse, and weak, a word he never thought he'd use to describe Alice.
"You don't look too good," he said.
"Well I feel like shit," she said. "You know this bed frame's iron?"
"Ouch. You gonna be able to stick around for much longer?" he asked.
"Don't worry about it. I'm not going anywhere. I didn't expect you to come," she said.
"Well I did. Why'd you call me instead of someone else?" he asked curiously.
"Can't find Riley. Probably best for both of us. Couldn't get ahold of Seebred. I thought you were the next most likely person to come bust me out," she said.
"Who said I was here to bust you out?" Bobby asked. "They said they found you torturing a man."
"Did they mention he was in the middle of a devils trap? Or that I was 'torturing' him with holy water?" she asked.
"No. I figured he was a demon though. You didn't hurt the guy hosting him?" Bobby asked.
"'Course not," she said, feigning offense. He thought it was incredible that she could look this bad and still be sarcastic. "So, if you didn't come to bust me out, why'd you come?" Alice asked.
"I came to ask you if you knew where Sam is," Bobby said.
"Sure I do. I'll tell you once you get me out of here," she said.
"Swear you really know where he is," Bobby said. Alice was silent, and Bobbys hopes were dashed.
"Well I had to try, didn't I?" Alice said when his posture dropped.
"Alice, not to offend you, but I think that you belong in a place like this," Bobby said.
"Come on. I'm a hunter. One of the good guys. I-"
"I don't want to hear it. There are two kinds of hunters Alice, ones that do it to help people, and the ones that do it 'cause they don't know how to do, or don't want to do anything else. You're the last kind, and worse than that, you ain't got a conscience to keep you in check. Hell, if I had to take a guess I'd say you're at least partly phsychotic," Bobby said.
"Do you even know what that word means?" Alice demanded. Bobby, not bothering to dignify her with a response, stood, ready to leave. "Look, I get it Singer, you don't like me," she said, and he stopped to look back at her. "You think I'm soulless, and a bad influence on Sam."
"You are," he said.
"Whatever. But you still have to get me out of here. Something big's starting. Something bigger than you could imagine," Alice said.
"There are other hunters out there to take care of it," Bobby said. "No. Not this time Singer. Hunters can't stop this one on their own," Alice said.
"What, and you can?" Bobby asked.
"No. But I can help. I know more about what's about to go down than any other hunter in the world, and I'll swear on that," she said.
"What's happening then?" Bobby asked. "What's gonna go down that it's so big and awful that hunters can't stop it?"
"Do you read the bible Singer?" she asked.
"I've read parts of it," he replied.
"How about Revelations?" she asked.
"Are you talkin' about the damn apocalypse?" Bobby asked.
"Yes," she said.
"You're crazy Smith. You always were, but now you really knocked somethin' loose in there," he said, turning to walk away.
"Singer! God damn you, listen to me!" she yelled after him as he walked out, closing the door behind him. "I can help! Singer!"
He kept going, ignoring her shouts from behind him.
Where it had taken him two days to get away from Illinois hitch-hiking, by driving almost all night, and most of the next day, he made it back just after nightfall. He found the hotel, and got the room number for the fake name that Sam had registered with(Honestly, he had to have a talk with the kid about not using the same personas over and over again). He found the room, and knocked on the door. It was answered almost before he was finished knocking by a brunette wearing only underwear and a tank top. A hot brunette, he corrected himself.
"So where is it?" she asked him expectantly.
"Where's what?" Dean asked, confused.
"The pizza," she said as if it should have been obvious.
"Uh... I'm not delivering a pizza. I think I've got the wrong-" He cut off as Sam poked his head around the door.
"What's going-" He also stopped abruptly as he saw Dean, swallowing hard, and staring at him in blank shock.
"Heya Sammy," Dean said, smiling. He stepped past the woman to hug his brother. Damn, had he gotten taller? Maybe Dean had lost an inch or so. He stepped away from Sam, still smiling. Sam still looked shocked, though he was recovering somewhat.
"I- I don't..." he trailed off.
"Yeah, me neither," Dean said, turning to look at the room. Why the hell was there a mirror on the ceiling? "But here I am."
Strange as the mirror was, he was glad for it a second later, when he saw Sam coming at him with a knife. He dodged to the side quickly, and Sam turned, and slashed at him again instead of barreling past as Dean had expected him to. Dean dodged to avoid it, but Sam kept coming at him, and he was quickly backed against the wall. Dean grabbed Sams wrist as he tried to stab him, trying to hold him off.
"Sam, it's me!"
"Like hell it is! Who are you?!" Sam shouted.
Dean managed to turn them around, and push Sam away from him, backing up to put some distance between them.
"Like you didn't do this!" he said angrily.
"Do what?!" Sam demanded.
"I don't know! Something to bring me back," Dean said.
Sam looked at him for a moment, before shaking his head, and coming towards him again.
"I don't buy that! You're a Shifter!" he said, lunging at Dean again. Dena grabbed him again, this time trying to get the knife away from him.
"I am not a shapeshifter!" he yelled.
"Then you're a Revenant!" Sam yelled back.
Dean managed to get the knife from him again, shoving him away and holding the knife out in front of him.
"Alright. If I was either, could I do this, with a silver knife?" he said. Sam watched as he rolled up his left sleeve, slices his arm just below the elbow, but above his torxing marks, with the knife. A thin line of blood appeared. Sam relaxed his posture a bit, looking at Dean with something close to wonder as he started to believe him.
"Dean?" he asked.
"That's what I've been trying to tell you," Dean said.
Sam broke out into a grin, walking over and hugging Dean tightly. Dean returned the hug with enthusiasm, despite Sams almost bone-crushing grip on him, grinning from ear to ear.
The woman, still standing by the door, now looking confused, spoke then.
"So are you two like... together?" she asked.
Sam broke away from the hug, looking at her like he'd forgotten that she was there.
"What? No. No. He's my brother," he said.
"Uh... got it. I... I guess. Look, I should probably go," she said.
"Yeah. Yeah, that's probably a good idea. Sorry," he said. She went into the bathroom, and Dean watched her go, amused.
"Looks like you had plenty of fun while-"
He turned back to Sam, and broke off as Sam tossed a bottle of water(Holy Water, he realized) at him. He spit some of it out to the side.
"I'm not a demon either you know," he said.
"Sorry. Can't be too careful though," Sam said. The woman came back out of the bathroom with a pair of jeans and a leather jacket on, holding a purse. She stopped before she walked out the door, glancing back at Sam.
"So, call me," she said.
"Yeah. Yeah, sure thing, Kathy," he said.
"Kristy," she said, looking disappointed.
"Right," Sam said as she left, closing the door behind her.
Sam stared after her, and Dean crossed his arms over his chest, ready to figure out what was going on now that the girl was gone.
"So tell me, what'd it cost?" he asked.
"The girl? I don't pay, Dean," Sam said, smiling.
"That's not funny, Sam. To bring me back. What'd it cost? Was it just your soul, or was it something worse?" Dean asked.
"You think I made a deal?" Sam asked incredulously.
"That's exactly what I think," Dean said.
"Well, I didn't," Sam said.
"Don't lie to me Sammy," Dean said seriously.
"I'm not lying," Sam said.
"I don't buy that Sam. You did something to get me out of hell, made some kind of deal. With something a lot worse than your average crossroads demon. What is it, I'm off the hook and you're on, is that it? You're some demons bitch-boy? I didn't want to be saved like this," Dean said.
"Look, Dean, I wish I had done it, all right?" Sam said angrily,
"There's no other way that this could have gone down. Now tell the truth!" Dean said.
"I tried everything," Sam said, wrenching himself out of Deans grasp. "That's the truth. I tried opening the Devil's Gate. Hell, I tried to bargain, Dean, but no demon would deal, all right? You were rotting in Hell for months. For months, and I couldn't stop it. So I'm sorry it wasn't me, all right? Dean, I'm sorry," Sam said.
Dean relented, hearing a ring of truth, and genuine remorse in his words. "It's okay, Sammy. You don't have to apologize, I believe you," Dean said.
Dean moved to sit on the bed, and Sam on a chair. They were silent for a moment, before Sam spoke. "Did you consider that maybe Alice did something?" he asked.
Dean looked up, realizing that was a possibility. Hell, it was the next most likely thing. He stood abruptly. "Where is she?" he asked.
Sam shook his head. "I don't know. She left right after we heard you were dead, before we even buried you, and I haven't seen or heard from her since."
Dean put his hands over his face, a horrible feeling of dread growing in his gut. "God Alice, what did you do?" he asked himself softly.
"What makes you think she made the deal with something worse than a crossroads demon?" Sam asked abruptly after a few more minutes.
"What?" Dean asked.
"You said that the deal had to have been made with something worse than your average crossroads demon. Why?" Sam asked.
"Because whatever brought me back, it was some bad mojo. You should have seen the grave site Sammy. It looked like a nuke went off," Dean said. "And I've been feeling this... presence. At a fill up joint, and in a car. The car broke down, and the gas station was wrecked."
"You think it might have been a demon high up on the food chain?" Sam asked.
"I don't know what else," Dean said. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to work things out. "We need to find Alice. You don't know where she is?" he asked Sam.
"No, I haven't seen her in four months," Sam said. "We could try other hunters. Maybe Bobby? He hears a lot of things, especially about what other hunters are doing. She was pretty upset the last time I saw her, but maybe Bobby knows where she is. Hell, he might even know what she did to bring you back for all I know."
"You've really been out of it, haven't you," Dean said.
"Not really out of anything. Just into others," Sam said.
Dean chuckled, spotting a bra on the floor next to the bed. He picked it up, waving it at Sam like a banner. "Sure. Other things," he said, grinning.
"Shut up," Sam said, standing and snatching it away from him, tossing it behind him.
"Right. Well, unless you've got any 'other things' you need to do, we should probably be getting on over to Bobbys," Dean said, standing.
"I'm here on a hunt for some demons," Sam said.
"How urgent is it?" Dean asked.
Sam shot him a funny look, but shrugged. "Not too I guess. They haven't killed anyone so far."
"Great, we can come back for them," Dean said. "Right now, I want to find Alice and figure out what she did."
"Sure. Right, just um... just let me get my stuff in order," Sam said. Dean waited while he gathered up a few loose things(Noticing that he kept the bra, and deciding Sam had gotten a bit creepy in his absence), before they walked out the door, into the parking lot. Sam immediately headed to where the Impala was parked, and Dean broke out in a huge grin when he saw the car.
"I almost forgot," he said as they reached the car. "Hey sweethart. Did you miss me?" he asked, running a hand over the car lovingly.
"I'll assume you want to drive," Sam said, pulling the keys out of his pocket and tossing them to Dean, who caught them. He got in the car, and settled in, about to start it up, when he noticed an ipod plugged into the stereo. He gave it a dirty look, before turning to glare at Sam when he got in the car.
"What the hell is that?" he demanded.
"That's an ipod jack," Sam replied.
"You were supposed to take care of her, not douche her up," Dean complained as he started the car.
"Dean, I thought it was my car," Sam said as a song that Dean didn't know started playing(He didn't like it). He ripped the ipod out, and tossed it in the backseat, starting to back out, before remembering Bobbys car.
"Oh, I drove one of Bobbys cars here. It'd probably be a good idea to take it back," Dean said.
"Which one?" Sam asked, glancing back.
"That red one," Dean said, pointing at the busted up car.
"Fine. I'll drive it back," he said, holding his hand out for the keys.
"Uh, I couldn't find the keys," Dean said. Sam rolled his eyes, getting out and going to hotwire the car.
Alice squirmed on the hospital bed, trying to get more comfortable. She suspected that the springs in the god damned mattress were iron too. She would have had to leave Danny by now, except that she'd gotten an idea from what Ruby had done with her sister, and locked herself into the body with him. In the beginning, when she'd first taken him over, she could hear him thinking at her. Now, he was quiet all the time, except for the rare instances when he would pipe up, or try to take the wheel back from her. It never worked. He'd been trying a lot since she'd gotten into the hospital, but even weakened by the iron as she was, she was still stronger than he was.
The night stretched out. She guessed whatever sedatives they were using didn't work on Shifters, or maybe it had something to do with her. She could only guess, and she wasn't too inclined to spend a lot of time on it. She had other things to worry about.
She didn't get any sleep that night, and was exhausted by the time that light started showing through the barred window. She was in a bit of a twilight mode now, not sleeping, but not fully conscious, her fevered thoughts becoming more and more random as she slipped gradually towards unconsciousness. She didn't care. She always had the same dream, or memory. It never changed. She suspected they were doing it on purpose, so she couldn't forget(As if she would have been able to anyway).
It was that night, about a week after Deans death, when the only thing she could think of that would get him out was prayer. And so she had prayed. She heard a fluttering behind her. An angel. "Hello Alice," the deep voice came again. She stood, and turned to see the Angel.
"Cut the polite crap. I'm ready," she'd said, spreading her arms out.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"I don't care. Make this quick," she said.
"I'm not here to kill you," he said.
She put her arms down, looking at him with a mixture of shock and confusion. "What?" she asked.
"My orders are not to kill you Alice Smith. I am to tell you that we are working on retrieving Dean Winchester from perdition," he said.
"You're answering my prayer?" she asked incredulously.
"We were working to save Dean Winchester from the moment he made his deal," the angel said.
She snorted, sitting in the chair. "Well you did a bang-up job of it. You goofs usually aren't subtle with 'helping' people," she said.
"We did the best we could under the circumstances," the angel said.
"What does that mean?" Alice asked.
"I was also told to tell you that you are under no circumstances to deal for the Winchesters soul," the Angel went on.
"Why not?" Alice demanded.
"You know the drill Alice. We get out orders. We don't ask why we're given them," he said.
She raised her head. "I only know one angel in the garrison that said that," she said, realizing who she was talking to.
"It's been a long time. Things have changed since then," the Angel said.
"Not a whole lot," she said, looking him over. "You're still being hosted by accountants."
"This man is not an accountant," the Angel said.
"Whatever. Do me a favor when you get up to heaven, give Naziel the bird for me," she said. "And whoever gave you those orders. I'm through taking orders from Angels and Heaven. I'll do whatever I so please to get Dean out of Hell."
He was in front of her suddenly, looking down at her. She saw a flicker in the shadows behind him, and thought that they formed the shape of wings, but they were gone as quickly as they'd appeared, and she was tired, after all.
"Alice, you will not be allowed to," the Angel said.
"Why not?" she demanded, standing.
"I don't-"
"Bullshit. I know that you like finding out why orders are given, and I know that you know," Alice said. "Tell me Castiel."
"Those weren't my orders," he said.
"Did anyone order you not to tell me?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow. He shifted uncomfortably, but didn't say anything.
She nodded. "That's what I thought. Why, Castiel?"
"You have a role to play. They want you alive, and they want you to stay that way," the Angel, Castiel, said.
"What role?" Alice asked.
"I don't know that," Castiel said. Alice regarded him, and knew he was telling the truth. She blinked, and when she opened her eyes, he was gone again.
