Alex woke with a start in a cold sweat. Nightmares, riddled with monsters and demons, had once again cut her precious four hours of sleep short. She slid her hand off the demon knife concealed under her pillow and rolled onto her back, body aching from being locked in the fetal position all night. Staring at the ceiling, she blinked away the lingering dark images from her mind. After a few minutes, she rolled until she pretty much fell out of the lumpy motel bed with a groan and stumbled into the tiny, grubby bathroom. Flicking on the buzzing florescent lights, she studied her reflection in the mirror. To put it lightly, she looked like hell. Dark circles shadowed her light blue eyes that seemed to have had the life leeched out of them. The harsh white glow hollowed out and paled her narrow face, throwing light bruises on her neck and face into sharp relief. There was a time when she looked a spitting image of her mother, however this wretched creature before her today was a stranger even to her. With a sigh, she removed a silver locket tucked under the ancient-overlarge t-shirt she usually passed off as pajamas and twisted the shower knobs until it sputtered to life with a pitiful trickle. What she wouldn't give for some decent water pressure.
She stood under the boiling blast for a long time, trying to wash away memories of the day before. Her aching body made it hard to forget battling through a vampire nest, only to discover she was too late – the missing victims were long dead. Even after her scrub the previous night, she was still washing away traces of blood that had clung in her long hair. Whose blood remained a mystery, however a throbbing in her skull made her suspect it was actually her own this time. After a while, cold water began replacing the warm, and she was finally forced back into the reality of the day. She knew what her father would say to her if he could see her now. He would tell her to celebrate. One less nest of godforsaken monsters in the world, right? Well, she didn't see how a vampire that couldn't have been more than 12 years old, begging for mercy constituted as a cause for celebration. He didn't choose to become what he was. However, that hadn't seemed to have mattered to her at the time as she drove her blade swiftly across his neck.
Alex dried off, dragged a comb through her long, dark hair, and dressed quickly in her usual inconspicuous, convenient jeans, lace up boots, and loose dark t-shirt. After carefully taping her torso (she expected from the sharp pains in her side she had at least cracked a rib or two), she quickly packed up her few belongings. Alex swept the room one final time to erase any traces of her DNA (what a witch could do with a hangnail) before slipping into a faded sturdy jacket and shutting the door behind her, careful not to leave any prints. Throwing her gear in an old, beat up blue Jeep, she climbed in and turned the key. The engine roared to life and Alex took off out of one more nameless town, leaving one more nightmare behind in her rearview mirror.
Rain pounded the windshield as Alex pulled up to a grubby roadside bar just outside of Fairtown, Ohio. She flipped the collar of her jacket up as she strode quickly through the mud, peering through the night guardedly. She pushed through the door and was immediately engulfed in the fumes of beer, stale cigarette smoke, and barbeque. She headed for a seat at the bar, far away from a rowdy game of pool over in the far corner.
"What can I get ya?" the bartender asked, a smile just visible behind his bushy gray beard.
"Whiskey, double," she replied as she slipped onto a stool.
"Rough day, eh?" the bartender asked almost gently as he reached under the bar for a glass.
"That obvious, huh?"
"No one orders a double whiskey to remember a good day," he sighed as he slid the glass in front of her. She smiled slightly and downed the contents in one pull, then slid the glass back to him, "I guess not." He poured her another drink, then left to help another customer. As she sipped this one slowly, absent mindedly wondering where she was going to sleep tonight, someone plopped into the seat on her left and said in what she guessed was supposed to be seductively, "Haven't seen you in here before."
The first thing she registered was the overwhelming stench of alcoholism that seemed to come off the man in waves. She sighed and glanced over at the hulking, drunken man in the next stool. "I'm just passing through," she said dismissively, hoping he'd take the hint. Rather than move on, he stayed where he was, speaking in that same honeyed voice that made her skin crawl. She effectively ignored him for the most part, however after a few dragging minutes, she downed the rest of her drink and turned. "Look, no offense, but I'm just passing through, and I came here to drink. I'm really not interested in anything else," she said. As she turned away again he said, "That's fine sweetheart, I can drink with you. You look like you need a refill anyway." He slid a nauseatingly pink drink in a frilly glass across the counter to her. Losing patience, Alex declined as politely as she could through gritted teeth and stood to leave. The man grabbed her arm and said in a growling voice, "See what I'm doing here? This is what I'm about. I get what I want, when I want it."
Alex resisted the urge to knock him out cold outright, unwilling to waste such a beautiful opportunity to blow off some steam on someone who deserved it. Instead, she smiled sweetly and simpered, "Oh, so that's like a metaphor, right?"
"Right," he smirked.
"Well, to be honest, I'm more of a literal kind of girl. Which means when I do this-"
She grabbed his wrist, gouging his pressure points. He grunted in pain and loosened his grip. Within the same second, she grabbed his upper arm and twisted it behind his back, slamming his face into the counter.
"-this is more like me saying, I will literally break your arm off if you ever touch me again. Mmkay sweetheart?"
"Get off me, bitch!" he wheezed out of the corner of his mouth, his face mashed against the counter.
"I'm sorry, what was that? I didn't hear you," she leaned into her hold on his arm. Another inch and his shoulder would dislocate.
"Alright, alright! Got it!" he gasped.
Alex dropped his arm, which he immediately cradled, dropped a few bills on the counter, and said to the bartender who had just rushed over, "For the drinks, including Tinkerbelle's here probably ruffied shit." She glanced around the bar. It was dead silent as everyone's eyes were on her. She sighed, grabbed her jacket, and, wishing for five goddamn minutes of peace, started for the door.
The next morning she sat at a cheap hotel table, browsing various local news sites for any out-of-the-ordinary deaths in the obituaries, sudden mass cattle deaths, electric storms, really anything she could get her hands on. Seeing nothing within three states, she sighed and snapped her laptop shut. She stood and searched her duffle for a bottle of painkillers. Not that it hadn't been worth it, but last night's scuffle had done a number on her ribs.
As she dug through the small bag, one of the many cell phones on the table started ringing. She swept it up, and, recognizing the number, flipped it open and answered.
"Sam."
"Hey, Alex. Nice work with that vamp nest up in Michigan."
She suppressed a shiver and answered shortly, "Thanks. What do you need?"
"I've, huh, got a bit of a situation on my hands in North Dakota, but it's more of an in-person sort of explanation. Can you get there anytime soon?" Sam asked haltingly.
It wasn't like the Winchesters to keep details quiet, and it certainly wasn't like them to ask for help, as the they had each other. However, her family went way back with the Winchesters.
"Sure thing. Sam, are you on your own?"
Sam hesitated a moment before answering slowly, "Yes."
"Would you care to elaborate?" Alex asked after a pause, irritated.
"I'm sorry, I just really need to talk to you in person."
She was pretty Dean was at least alive, otherwise Sam would be calling their angel pal or some demon, so that meant she was going to have to deal with all the damn family drama between those two.
"Fine. Let me walk into this blind. I'm on my way." She snapped before hanging up.
Alex checked the coordinates Sam had texted her before pulling into Beulah, North Dakota after driving all night and half the day. She pulled into the diner they were supposed to meet up at and ordered a cup of coffee watching the sun begin its decent. The time came and went with no sign of either of the Winchesters. Finally, Alex slapped a huge tip on the table and stalked out to her jeep, worried. She quickly booked a room in yet another crappy motel and set up her laptop. After about half an hour of hacking Sam's phone and a few calls, she had a location. Sam, or at least Sam's phone, was halfway across the state. The only reason Sam wouldn't have shown for an agreed time is if he was dead or someone – or something, was stopping him.
Alex smiled slightly to herself. I think I'll go hunt it down.
Alex killed the engine at the head of a shrouded dirt road and continued on foot with a flashlight, a glock loaded with silver bullets, her demon knife slid in her boot, and flask of holy water in her jacket. If Sam would have just told her what the hell was going on, she would at least know what she was up against. She didn't think this was a trap for her, so she hoped that she at least had the element of surprise on her side. When she came to a clearing to an old abandoned farm, she clicked off the flashlight and let the moonlight guide the rest of the way. There was no sign of the Winchester's Impala, but there was a dusty jeep parked outside a large, shabby barn. After peering through the windows of the house to check that it was empty, she crept toward the side of the barn. She leaned around the edge just enough to see inside.
She could see Sam, bloodied, bruised, and in a sling, zip tied to a chair, a bit of moonlight streaming over his face. His interrogator, who, at least at first glance, appeared to be human, had his back to her. He pulled a gloved hand back and, with a sickening thud, punched Sam across the face. He leaned in inches away from Sam's face and said in a shockingly conversational tone, "Just tell me where your brother is, Sam, and everyone gets to go home healthy and happy." Sam glared at him through his blood-matted hair, but told him only exactly where he could shove it. "Alright. Looks like we just need to crank up the volume." He stalked out of sight and returned with a hammer in hand. Alex had to act fast. She slipped silently through the gap between the two huge doors and into the shadows. She crept behind the attacker and sharply cracked his temple with the butt of her weapon. He collapsed before he knew what hit him. Huh. If that's all it took to take him down, he must be human.
"Alex?" Sam wheezed, peering through the gloom.
Alex hurriedly pulled out her knife and tore through his bounds. "Hi, Sam. Long time, no see. How've ya been?"
Sam laughed shakily, "Can't complain."
Alex snorted, "Yeah I'm sure. Help me get Rambo here tied up,"
As they heaved the interrogator into the chair and zip tied his arms and legs, Sam filled Alex in on what had been going on. Crowley had Dean, and Sam had tracked him to Beulah so far. But thanks to Cole (that was the attacker's name) he never made it. Cole seemed to have witnessed Dean killing his father about 11 years ago, which had set him up right at the top of his hit list.
Alex listened silently, asking no questions, knowing Sam couldn't answer with GI Joe napping ten feet away. Instead, she helped Sam hobble over to the table that held in interesting collection of knives and various blunt objects and examined his injuries. A low groan came from Cole as he started to come round.
Sam lurched from the table and towered over Cole, but Alex gentle placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back against the table. She turned and poised herself on her toes so she was face level with Cole.
"Who the hell are you?" he spat at her, but keeping his eyes on Sam.
"Doesn't matter. What does matter is what I'm about to tell you, so I want you to really listen to me. Usually we have more time to ease people into this, but I'm on a tight schedule. I need you to understand what people like me, Sam, and Dean do. We hunt monsters."
His eyes snapped to her in astonishment, "What the-"
Alex held up a roll of duct tape she had snagged from the table. "If you can't shut up by yourself, I will make you."
He looked like he was about to retort, but remained silent. She setting the tape back down, she continued, "We hunt werewolves, and vampires, and ghosts, and shapeshifters, and a hundred other things you've never heard of."
"Oh great, another psycho." Cole hissed, half to himself.
Alex smiled slightly, "It's been said. However, never by a kidnapping torturer before."
Cole made no answer, but rather scowled at her. She shrugged, "The point is, whatever you think Dean did to your father isn't what it seems," she said earnestly, "Dean is one of the good guys."
Cole's weary eyes flashed at that comment, "A good guy, huh? That kills a good man just for kicks? Or gives someone the green light to put a bullet between his brother's eyes rather than show up himself?" he growled.
That threw Alex off for a moment. Dean give Sam up? Going to hell and back for each other was something of a literal statement for these two. Why would Dean do something like that?
After a moment's recovery, Alex pressed on. "The point is, people in our line of work tend to end up dead pretty fast. I suggest you turn tail and go back to whatever family you've got, because if you go down this road, you are not going to like what you find."
With that Alex straightened and packed up Sam's duffle, which had its contents spread over the table. While she did, Sam advanced on Cole and leaned down close to his face, "For your sake, I hope this is the last time we meet. Because if you ever see me again, I'll be there to kill you. Stay away from me, and stay the hell away from my brother." With that he stalked out the barn doors without a backwards glance. Alex paused at the door after Sam had passed through, calling over her shoulder, "We're gonna put about two states between us and you, then we'll call someone to pick you up. And he's not bluffing, by the way – the Winchesters aren't really the forgiving type." She slipped through the door, spilling in the first light of dawn, and pulled the protesting barn door closed after her.
Alex glanced over at Sam in the passenger seat as he tested the joints in his slinged arm. She was conflicted about whether she should ask Sam outright what the hell was going on or it she could wheedle it out of him. She doubted he would give her a straight answer either way, but now this was her problem too. Sam sighed and met her expectant gaze fleetingly as the silence gained weight, "I guess I owe you an explanation," he said hesitantly.
"Do you?" Alex retorted sarcastically.
"Alright, look, Dean's in trouble," Sam said haltingly.
Alex rolled her eyes, "That doesn't count as an explanation. Dean is always in trouble."
He looked at her for a moment, considering his options, before launching into a story involving fallen angels, a knight and a king of hell, and, most importantly, the Mark of Cain. When he had finished, she knew he would be waiting for a reaction, probably one involving pulling over and kicking him out of her car. She kept her face impassive and her voice steady, "Well, then it looks like we have our work cut out for us." She glanced over at him and smiled slightly. He relaxed, reassured she wasn't going to have a mental breakdown, while in reality she was internally reeling. To hell with having to deal with family drama, Dean was a demon? And Sam thought he could just say a few magic words to fix him? Curing demons was never even proven to actually work, and even that didn't touch on the Mark of Cain. She knew she had to tag along, because if Dean regressed from the kind you save to the kind you stop, she doubted Sam would be able to put him down.
They pulled into Beulah and booked two rooms at the only other motel in town to avoid Alex getting too much attention from the locals. Alex wanted to stay true to her word and get as far from Cole as possible, but Sam insisted on picking up Dean's trail. As Alex threw her duffle onto the chair (which fluffed up a cloud of dust) she wondered if there were certain requirements for small town motels; poor water pressure, suspicious stains, and obnoxious wallpaper being at the top of the must-haves list. All the same, she enjoyed a dreamless sleep for the first time in ages, waking not from nightmares but to Sam banging loudly on the door. She stumbled to answer it, still wearing the clothes she was wearing when she collapsed on the bed the night before. He began speaking the moment she opened the door, striding in, "I just saw Crowley, and he gave me Dean's location."
"No please, come in," Alex muttered sullenly. "Do you think he could have been lying?" she asked more audibly.
"I seriously doubt it. Apparently, Dean was a little too much for him to handle, even as a demon," Sam said, suppressing a smirk.
"It could be a trap. Crowley's been itching to put the two of you down for years, and to be honest the two of us didn't part on the best terms either."
"It doesn't matter. If Dean's there, we can deal with anything else."
"Well then what are we waiting for? Mission rescue Dean is now ago," Alex said with false enthusiasm.
"Actually, there's something I need to talk to you about." Sam stared her down, "When we do find Dean, I need to know that it will be to rescue him, and that you won't be taking matters into your own hands."
Alex considered lying, but there was obviously no point. "Look Sam, I'm all for trying to save Dean, but you need to be prepared if this doesn't go our way. It's not like I want to waste Dean, but if we do everything we can and it doesn't make a dent in whatever he's mixed up in, he could hurt someone. I need to know that you'll let me make sure that doesn't happen." Alex returned his gaze sadly, "It's what Dean would want."
Sam considered this for a moment, "Fine. But only after we tried everything and I give you the greenlight."
She nodded solemnly, "Now get out and meet me at the Jeep in five."
Alex paced impatiently outside the bar by her Jeep. Sam had insisted on going in alone to reason with Dean, with no backup, her no way of knowing if he was even still alive in there. She had just decided to find a back door to slip in before a sharp crackling pain in the base of her skull plunged her into complete darkness.
Alex awoke with a groan, her faced pressed against the pavement. Her head throbbed where she had been knocked out and stung on her left temple where it had struck the ground. She pushed herself up, touching her fingers gingerly to her head, which came away slick with blood. Cole had caught up to them somehow, just as she had feared he would. Alex dragged herself to her feet and stumbled towards the bar, knowing Sam didn't have a chance now with two threats to contend with and only one arm. As she burst into the front doors, she was assaulted by toxic fumes of a smoke bomb. Yanking the collar of her shirt over her nose and mouth, she peered through the smoke for any sign of either of the Winchesters with stinging eyes. She could see light steaming through the gloom and stumbled toward it. She half fell out the back door, nearly tripping over Sam, who was lying just over the threshold, unconscious. With great spurts effort (probably only made possible by some freak adrenaline accident), Alex managed to drag him a safe distance from the fumes. She checked his pulse and breathing, relieved to find both were present, before giving his face a sharp slap, "Sam!" she shouted, however his face remained vacant. Spotting an abandoned half-empty water bottle, she snatched it up and overturned it directly on his face.
Sam woke, sputtering. "Sam! " Alex grabbed his shoulders and spoke clearly, "Where is Dean?"
Sam blinked at her a few times before his eyes cleared with understanding, "Dean," he croaked, head swiveling. He scrambled to his feet, searching around him wildly, "Handcuffs," he muttered to himself, patting down his pockets, "What?" Alex asked bewildered. "Handcuffs, where are the handcuffs?!" He demanded. He charged straight into the bar, nearly cleared of smoke now. Alex sighed and chased after him, knowing she was in for a world of pain later. She entered just in time to see him snatch a pair of handcuffs off the floor and sprint out the back door to the dull sounds of a fist striking skin.
Alex was not prepared for the sight that met her eyes. Dean was holding Cole against a car, with what she assumed was the First Blade pressed to his throat. Cole was beaten and bloody half to death, unable to support his own weight. He was screaming at Dean to do it, to kill him. Dean growled something inaudible back, and released him, letting Cole drop to the ground unconscious. Sam lunged forward, a flask of holy water in hand. He splashed Dean with it, handcuffing him while he was distracted by the burning of his skin. Meanwhile, Alex was rushing to Cole's side, checking his vitals. "Get him out of here, before the paramedics come. I'll take care of this," she shouted to Sam. "Oh hiya Alex," Dean growled in a voice that did not belong to him. "Don't you want to join in on the fun?" he snarled. She angled herself between Cole and Dean's line of vison in a protective stance, hand on the demon blade tucked in her belt under her shirt tail, until Sam had dragged him from sight as he laughed mirthlessly. She turned her attention back to Cole, one hand checking his pulse, the other dialing 911. Alex watched from a distance when the paramedics arrived, knowing her bloody appearance would raise questions she couldn't answer. After watching them load Cole into the back of an ambulance, she called Sam.
Alex stood a distance from the Winchester's Impala leaning against her jeep, watching Dean handcuffed in the back seat like a hawk. No, it wasn't Dean she was watching. Dean would not give his brother up for dead. Dean would not beat a man senseless just for kicks. Dean was nowhere to be found in those cruel, merciless eyes staring right back at her, eyes that were once full of life and sometimes even hope.
She kept her distance when Crowley arrived. She had met the smarmy dick only once when she had offed a few of his favorite pets, and she figured the whole thing would go over smoother without her presence anyway. However, she couldn't help but be shocked when she watched Sam hand over the First Blade. It was probably best that it was out of Dean's grasp, but she hated to think what the King of Hell could do with that kind of powerful artifact.
With a final, no doubt maddening comment and a smirk in her direction, Crowley disappeared. She strode over to Sam, who was eyeing Dean with an exhausted weariness.
"Everything good?" she asked.
"Is it ever?" Sam muttered to himself, barely audible. He turned to her, "Thank you, for everything" he said sincerely, "But I need to ask you another favor."
Alex rolled her eyes, "You don't say?"
"We're leaving a lot of loose ends by just leaving. Are you up for damage control?"
"Of course I am, Sam. But I think we need to consider priorities," she lowered her voice, "I don't think you should handle this alone."
"I can handle Dean, demon or not. What I don't need is Cole tracking us down again and barging in on me pumping dean full of blood in the middle of a pentagram."
She considered this for a second. "Fine. I will stay only long enough to clean up the mess, but I'll be right behind you."
Sam smiled slightly, "That's all I'm asking."
Alex was flipping through an outdated magazine when Cole woke with a groan. She remained silent as he slowly fought his way to consciousness through the pain killers pumping from an IV line. When he finally noticed her, he made to spring out of bed, only to discover she had handcuffed him to the side.
"Relax," Alex said without looking up, "I'm not here to hurt you. Although I do owe you a headache."
Cole slowly sank back onto the bed, eyes fixed on her cautiously, "You don't owe me anything. At least I didn't tie you to a chair and leave you."
Alex smiled, which unfortunately split her swollen lip, "We'll call it square then."
Cole eyed her suspiciously, "So why are you here, if not to kill me?"
Alex sighed, dropped the magazine and leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees, "I'm here because of what you saw."
Cole stared at her, considering what she had said. Alex held his gaze evenly. She had given this speech dozens of times to confused, ignorant civilians, but she knew this time it had to be different. Cole would never stop, but he could not, and would not become involved in the nightmare that now ruled her life. She reached into her shirt and pulled the silver locket resting next to her heart over her head. She laid it gently in her hand before popping open the latch and passing it to Cole, who took it after a moment's hesitation. On one side a young couple grinning impishly out, intertwined in each other's arms. On the other was a young girl whose sweet face of surrounded by a wreath of wavy golden hair.
"That," Alex said flatly, "Is all I have left of my family."
Cole's eyes flashed to her at that. Alex pressed on in the same detached voice, "I come from a family of hunters. My mother was killed by a young werewolf on rampage before I was old enough to remember her. My father started taking my sister and me along with him on hunts after that. He trained me to be a killing machine, to show no mercy. I managed to keep my sister out of it, to try and let her live a normal life. But I was wrong, because once you fall into that darkness, you drag everyone you love with you. My sister was killed by a demon out of revenge on my father." Alex could feel grief she had buried in hunting long ago wrapping its icy fingers around her throat, and her voice faltered, "I tried to save her, God knows I tried, but I couldn't. I was too late. I never saw my father again after that, he left me with a friend of his and two years later he turned up dead, killed by a vampire nest." She sucked in a shaky breath and picked up Cole's wallet, pulling out a picture of him with a pretty woman and a boy she assumed was his wife and son. She looked him dead in the eye, her own glassy with tears, "You have a family Cole, who loves you so, so much. Go back to them, and leave this behind you. If you don't –"she laid the picture gently in his lap, "- you won't have them for long, and this is all that'll be left."
Cole stared at the picture of his family, tears welling in his eyes. Without a word, Alex took the locket from him and slipped it back over her head. She straightened and made for the door. Before stepping out, she stopped and looked over her shoulder at him, smiling wryly, "And for God's sake, stay the hell away from the Winchesters. You're right – they're fucking psychopaths."