Song Remains the Same
Chapter 10 / Tilt-A-Whirled
"He is walking in dreams, not knowing reality's name."
- Wuthering Heights
Alex found herself standing in the middle of a place she didn't recognize at first. Once-colorful now-dingy rides and booths were scattered across a flat pavement lot on a foggy day. The Tilt-A-Whirl, merry-go-round, ferris wheel, and rows of cheesy, cheap prizes surrounded her and a wave of reminiscence overcame her. I've been here before. She looked around a minute, trying to remember where she'd been before she was here, but she couldn't recall. This place was silent. No people. No movements of any kind. No smell of the animals at the petting zoo or grease from the funnel cake stand. The fog was thick and cool, and the way that it obscured the near distance made the setting feel a little surreal. This was a dream, she realized. A good dream. She relaxed.
To her right was the bottle toss booth, and Alex wandered over, drawn to it. Rows of old Coke bottles were crowded onto shelves and giant stuffed animal prizes lined the two walls on either side. Alex smiled slightly at the oversized green bear—that had been the one she wanted. At the front of the booth, bowls of beat up rings waited to be thrown onto the bottle necks. She reached for one, smiling, then stopped, suddenly aware of a change. The smile fell. She felt the distinct sensation of a presence behind her. She turned to see an increasingly familiar sight—a man with wild hair, a somber expression, and a beige trench coat. Immediately, she was on guard. Why was he here?
"Hello Alex," he said evenly.
"Cas..." she replied, cautious and mistrustful, watching him closely. "What're you doing here?" She paused, thinking hard, putting two and two together. Castiel had just waltzed into an actual dream of hers, a personal memory—without being invited. That seemed a little bold. She crossed her arms, not thrilled with him invading her private headspace like this.
He was looking around in an oblivious fashion, ignoring her question, seeming especially perplexed by the assortment of carnival rides around. "Where is this?" he asked. His question and his deep gravelly voice made her clench her jaw.
For a minute she thought she wouldn't tell him. Then for whatever reason, she did. "It's a memory. From when I was little." She was curt in her response.
He was looking around at everything with that familiar, stern frown. "This is a place for amusement?"
"What are you doing here?" Alex repeated her question, which was now a demand. He turned his gaze back to her, and inclined his head just slightly, his eyes boring into hers intensely.
The startling crisp blue made her pinched expression falter. "I know you're wondering why I asked you to return to your brothers when I did."
He said nothing else and Alex found her voice and answered very slowly. "Yeah, I am..." She felt dubious. What was the catch?
Castiel breathed in deeply, as if hesitant, and his eyes flickered away from hers. "Truthfully, I did it for selfish reasons." He seemed almost contrite.
"Meaning what?" she asked, equal parts curious and unsettled. She still didn't understand why he was here or telling her this for.
He was still looking down, his expression grim. "I wanted to influence the outcome of the situation. I wanted to make sure that the city would not be destroyed." It almost seemed like he was confessing sins, but weren't those good things he had done? He looked Alex in the eye again. "Your presence created even more reason for Uriel to be unable to destroy it."
Alex's eyes were narrowed as she studied Cas mistrustfully. "Okay... Wasn't Dean being there enough to stop Uriel from being a dick?"
"I... wasn't sure. Uriel can be very persuasive."
Alex tilted her head to the side. "Aren't you Uriel's boss?"
"Technically, yes."
"Then what was the problem?" Alex looked at Castiel long and hard, trying to figure out his angle in telling her all this. She felt her eyebrows raise slightly as realization hit her. "You don't trust Uriel."
"I didn't say that," he said, a little sharply. And to her, his reaction was all the proof she needed.
"You didn't have to," Alex countered, cool as breeze.
He seemed convicted by what she'd said, frowning deeply and looking down. "As I said, Uriel can be persuasive," Castiel said. "And unpredictable. He has a problem with my methods."
Alex grew uncomfortable. "He's not the only one," she muttered, thinking back to Pamela's eyes being burned out, Dean's deep cuts and scrapes from the shattered glass Castiel had rained down on him, the handcuffing, the dream-jacking, the time travel, the town-smiting. Straight up, she didn't think Castiel was trustworthy, let alone Uriel—but like she'd said to Dean... Castiel had brought her brother back from the grave. So, she couldn't exactly hate him. But right now, she wasn't sure why she should trust him. Life had taught her that almost everyone was plotting to screw you over in the end, and she wasn't sure if Castiel were here to help or harm her. She tried to take a deep breath and get a straight answer from him. "Since when do you care what mud monkeys think about or know?" Alex asked, now deliberately attempting to draw out Castiel's true character.
He looked affronted at her question. "Those are Uriel's words, not mine," he said with deadly seriousness. "I would never call a human that."
"Uh huh." Alex nodded patronizingly, eyes narrowed watchfully. "You'd just level a whole town full of them if two little humans didn't stand in your way?"
Castiel's face was bordering on frustrated. "I carry out the commands of God, whatever they are."
Alex looked at him oddly, unsure how he could say that or be so blindly trusting. He must know God pretty well to have so much faith. "Whatever they are? But what if they're wrong?"
Castiel looked as if she had suggested that the earth revolved around the moon. "That's not possible. There is no fault in God. He is the definition of justice." He paused darkly. "And apart from that, it's not my place to decide right from wrong."
Alex looked at him a long moment, then scoffed and looked away. "Yeah, okay."
"What's wrong?" Castiel asked.
She snorted at his question. "What isn't wrong?" She laughed derisively. "I mean, forget about the whole God thing for a second and I still can't find one thing that's going right." She turned around and grabbed a handful of the rings and began tossing them with angry flair at the Coke bottles. "You don't know why you're protecting me—" clunk "—you don't know what seals are going to be broken—" clunk "—you don't know if Dean passed the test—" clunk "—you show up and turn my whole friggin' life upside down with your—" clunk "—apocalypse crap, your guardian angel crap—" clunk "and to top it all off, you're clueless." She looked at him sternly, forgetting the stupid bottle toss rings and approaching Castiel in a confrontational manner. "You have no idea what's going on. I take one look at you and all I see is confusion and ignorance. You'd kill a whole town of people without missing a beat, without even thinking, if you thought God said to do it. Castiel. That's detestable."
Castiel's expression had gone cold. His jaw was set firmly, his voice was lower than before, and his gaze bored into hers unflinching. "I hold the power of Heaven in my right hand, and Hell itself could not hold a soul in my grip," he growled, stepping closer and invading her space, effectively staring down at her. "My knowledge is vast and unending. I am a soldier of the Lord, a warrior. I am your protector and guardian. I'm the one who brought your brother back from the gates of death itself. You should respect me."
Alex met his gaze challengingly and didn't back down, matched his tone with some fire of her own. "Please. If you think you're going to tell me what to do, you have another thing coming." She took the last ring she had and flicked it against his chest just to be an ass. His jaw tightened at her retort. Alex, however, wasn't done. "And if you have such unending knowledge, why don't you tell me why you're protecting me, or what work God has for Dean, or gee, I dunno, how to stop the friggin' apocalypse!" Her voice had raised to a shout, but Castiel remained unblinkingly rigid in front of her.
"Some things are not meant for you to know," was his even-toned reply.
"Says who?" Alex demanded.
Castiel set his mouth and his eyes went down momentarily, as if he were gathering his thoughts or attempting patience. "Alex—have faith. God is in control."
Alex folded her arms, almost laughing. "Is he?"
He couldn't, or wouldn't, look at her when he replied. "Yes."
Alex had an incredulous grimace on her face. "You don't even believe that!" She accused.
His eyes came to her sharply, and he was once again defensive. "You don't know what I believe or don't believe."
Alex raised a challenging eyebrow. "So why can't you look me in the eye and say God is in control?" She unfolded her arms and raised them in a baffled, shrugging gesture. "You claim you're an all-powerful, wise angel but all I see is a confused guy with daddy issues in an ugly trench coat."
He looked down at himself, then back at her, unblinkingly. "I like this coat."
Taken aback, Alex felt a small, surprised smile on her face at the absurdity of him and his sudden comment. She didn't know how to respond. One moment, he was trying to convince her that he was a superhuman being worthy of honor and renown, the next he was affronted that she had insulted his outfit. She expected him to disappear now, but he just stood there, his arms hanging at his sides. He was studying her back, perhaps waiting for her to say something. His face was at the moment free of his constant frown, and it made him look younger, attractive. She heard herself think that single, dangerous thought and mentally slapped herself. No. Just no.
"Uh, so, we're good here, right?" She said, her voice sounding a little stilted. "You can leave anytime." She turned away and went back to the bottle toss booth, hoping he would leave her in peace.
She leaned against the surface of the tall tabletop there and stared at the bottles lining the wall across from her. She heard soft footsteps behind her and she huffed slowly in exasperation. She looked up and sideways, where he stood beside her, staring straight ahead with a face of stone. "Why are you still here?" she asked, momentarily out of back talk, and now just tired and wanting to be left alone.
He looked her way sidelong, his expression grim once again. "When you wake up, it will be November second," he said, and Alex's stomach turned, a million negative feelings going through her all at once as Castiel continued, "The day that—"
"I know what November second is, Castiel!" She cut him off loudly, angrily, standing at her full height. "How would I forget that? The date of my mom's death haunts my life and follows me everywhere. The fire, Sam's demon blood, my voice... I think I know what tomorrow is." She stopped, and breathed, unclenched her teeth, trying to regulate herself. He just stared at her. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Sorry. It's not my favorite subject. First Uriel comes and rubs it in my face, now you."
Castiel's frown deepened. "What?"
"Yeah. He didn't tell you? You didn't know he came and paid me a visit?" She let out a disappointed puff of air. "Of course not," she muttered. "Well, no big deal. He just came and threatened Sam's life and told me I shouldn't feel safe just because I was under your protection."
Castiel's expression darkened, especially at the last part, but he said nothing.
Alex, however, was turning back to lean her elbows on the booth's tabletop edge, her hands clasped as she let out a slow, heavy breath, trying to collect herself and gather her thoughts. November second stirred great pain inside of her. After a moment, she looked up, shaking her head mournfully. "You know, I never understood how God, or whoever, could let that happen to my mom. To my family."
Castiel was quiet for a moment. "Bad things happen so that good can come out of it."
Alex chuckled bitterly. "Is that what you tell yourself so that you can sleep at night?"
"Angels do not require sleep," he replied matter-of-factly. Alex half rolled her eyes. It's just a saying, Cas.
"Right. That's why you dudes love to crash human's dreams," Alex muttered.
At this point, he mimicked her posture, leaning his elbows onto the bar. She looked at him strangely, quieted. What was he doing that for? He looked reflective almost, thoughtful, and she couldn't look away from him. She glimpsed something there that she hadn't expected to see and didn't know how to name. "I do sometimes wonder what it would be like to dream," he said. There was a stark, honest sadness there in his quiet statement. For a moment, she was caught off guard. Then, he turned his head slightly to look at her—his expression surprisingly unguarded and open—she looked away almost immediately, flustered.
She cleared her throat, attempting to be businesslike, attempted to regain control over herself. She didn't like how he did that to her sometimes. Made her uncomfortable and unsure of how to conduct herself. She grabbed a ring and tossed it, missed completely. Dammit. She glanced sidelong at Cas, who was throwing her groove off. He looked at the rings, very perplexed, then up at her from underneath his dark lashes. She edged away a little, gripping the counter tightly. "So, uh, listen," she said, cleared her throat again, trying to stay focused. "I-I gotta know. Was I supposed to have demon blood, too?"
Cas's eyes narrowed just slightly in thought and he straightened a little. "More than likely yes. Nandriel's presence and your mother's interruption prevented it," he said. Alex's mouth opened slightly in surprise—she tried for a moment to imagine what could have changed if she had received demon blood like Sam had. Cas watched her face work for a moment.
Alex, brows knit together, wet her lips uncertainly. "Why my voice? Why did Azazel do that to me?"
Castiel's eyes narrowed with introspection, and he looked at some distant point in front of them. "My best guess is that when your mother interrupted his actions to Sam, Azazel took your voice as a cruelty. A reminder to you and your family that he had taken more than just your mother." He met her questioning gaze grimly. "An attempt to... break you, since he could not have you for his own." Alex looked at Cas in both dismay and surprise. She didn't miss the fact that Castiel had, in a surprising act of empathy, used the word break, instead of ruin. Because Alex felt like Azazel had taken her voice as a way to ruin her. To mentally break her down, to alienate her from her family and the world around her. And it had almost worked.
Alex felt predictable pain in her chest, but refused to let herself cry. Instead, she shook her head, at a loss. All her anger was used up, and she felt sad and lost. "But I don't understand," she managed softly. "Why did I have to live most of my life on mute? Didn't Nandriel or whoever see how hard it was? How much I had to say and couldn't? The struggles I went through? Why didn't anyone do anything for all those years?" She sounded so lost and unsure, and hated it.
Castiel said nothing for a long moment. He seemed disturbed by the question. "I'm not sure."
Alex's eyes stung with confused, hurt tears that she couldn't hold at bay. "I lived in so much pain, and no one cared. No one did anything."
"That's untrue," Castiel countered, almost defensively. "You were healed."
"Yeah..." Alex was disturbed by the reminder that she still had no idea what creature, spell, demon, or whatever had randomly decided to give her voice back. She was muttering to herself. "But by who, by what, you know? And why? It makes no sense." She looked at Cas glancingly, but something about Castiel's expression startled Alex and her mouth went slack. "Do you know?" she asked, and he looked guilty, or caught. He did know. "You do," Alex breathed, and she stared at him as her heart began to race. "You know who did it!" Castiel's eyes slid sidelong her way, his jaw tight. "Who, Castiel? Who? Please. Tell me. I have to know!"
He moved away and walked a few paces off, his back to her. She followed by a step and a half, breathless, confounded. She couldn't see his face—if she could have, she would have seen shut eyes, an oddly pained, vulnerable, conflicted expression. And then he turned around to face her and he said what she least expected to hear. He almost seemed embarrassed. "It was me."
Three words that made her go still and quiet. Surely he didn't mean what she thought he did. "What was you?" She heard herself ask faintly.
He swallowed, his eyes meeting hers falteringly. "I am the one who restored what had been taken from you, Alex."
Utter silence. Alex stared agape at him, her heart stammering in her shocked chest. "What?" She managed softly. Was he serious? Normally, she would have never taken someone who she knew as little as she knew Cas at face value but... for some reason, she believed him immediately, and it seemed to sock all the air out of her windpipes completely. "You?" But why? She struggled for words and understanding even as her adrenaline turned to jello in her veins and her own heartbeat deafened her. "What, God commanded it, or something?"
Castiel's expression showed a strange mixture of what looked like guilt and distress and possibly even shame. His jaw tightened and he looked down. "No. It was not commanded."
Alex blinked rapidly, rendered dumb and wordless for a minute as her mind flew a million miles an hour, trying to understand why he would do that. Why on earth he would do that. She drifted just a little closer, trying to catch his downcast gaze. "Then... why?" His eyes darted back up to hers, but he remained silent. Alex swallowed, oddly vulnerable and depending on him to give her answers to the question that burned her alive. "Please, Cas. Tell me why." She was practically begging, pride gone out the window.
His eyes fell away from hers once again and scanned the ground between their feet. For a minute, Alex thought he wouldn't answer. And then he did. "I... watched you for a long time." His features worked strangely, as if not even he understood what he was saying. "I... felt your pain." He looked to her as if he wanted help understanding what he was saying, and it floored Alex. A muscle jerked in his cheek and he seemed totally unsure of himself, as though what he was telling her was something bad and wrong that he'd done. "I felt compassion for you. I... wanted... you to be able to speak. And that is why I healed you."
The world was heavy, breathing was impossible, and she felt like she'd been slammed with a brick wall epiphany. Suddenly, Uriel's lecture about unnecessary healings made sense, and at the same time, Alex remembered every insult and disrespect she had thrown Castiel's way. Mortified and shellshocked and afraid for some reason, she struggled how to even put her thoughts into words. She owed this strange angel everything and he'd given her a new chance at life because of the goodness of his own heart...? Her eyes glazed over even as she fumbled to understand, to thank him, to try and make up for how shitty she'd treated him thus far. "I... you... I don't know what to... I... Castiel... thank you." Her mouth worked oddly as she tried to keep her composure. He watched her with a grave studiousness and his gaze passed over the tears shining in her eyes. His eyebrows grew a little closer together. "Thank you," Alex repeated tightly. "I, I can never repay you." She wet her lips, trying to understand even as she fought to keep her face from crumpling. She suddenly felt like she owed everything to this angel. How he could have skipped telling her this until now. "Wh-why didn't you tell me this before?" She asked, waiting with baited breath.
Her question made him reluctant, and his body language was closed off, guarded. "I faced discipline. It was not ordained by God. I thought it best to not tell you."
What he told her struck her as terrifying, intense, utterly confounding. The grim look on his face and the rueful way his eyes dodged hers spoke silently of a huge, horrible truth. He'd been punished for helping her? She could read between the lines and heard what he said behind the carefully crafted words. And she wondered why all over again. Why would he have risked so much for a human who had so far trashed him and rolled her eyes at him and believed the worst of him. It seemed too awful to believe, especially that Heaven would punish an act of compassion. "They... they hurt you for helping me?" She chanced softly, not wanting it to be true.
The tone of her voice seemed to puzzle him, intrigue him, and it was almost like he didn't even hear her question.
"You—you gave me back what was mine," Alex said, trying to tell him that he was a hero, not a sinner. "Nothing about that is wrong."
Did he believe her? His expression was unreadable, but open in a way that wasn't normal for him.
Alex was overcome as she thought about what he had done for her and she stumbled on words, trying to tell him everything, all at once. "I... you gave me what I always needed, and wanted..." she trailed off, chickening out of saying all her feelings and gratefulness. It was too much. Too personal. Too intense. So she stopped. He held her gaze hesitantly, maybe uncomfortable with her attempts at thankfulness, maybe still unsure if he had done the right thing. Maybe something else. Alex didn't know, but she wanted him to know how much it meant that he'd done that for her.
She wished she could take back some of her more asshole behavior toward him. "Look. I'm sorry. If I had known—" Alex impulsively touched him, grasping him gently at the forearm to show her earnestness. He tensed at her touch, and frowned, looked at her hand oddly. Alex faltered, then realized he must not like to be touched. She let go, embarrassed at the fumble. She wasn't even sure why she'd done that. She attempted to finish speaking, even though she felt hot all over from the beginnings of mortification. "If I had known you were the one who did that for me..." she stopped, shaking her head and looking away for a moment, before looking back. "Thank you. Just, thank you." She felt incredibly repetitive and awkward, and suddenly didn't know what to do.
Castiel's eyes went down, slid over, then looked at the Tilt-A-Whirl, and then the bumper kart corral. "People ride these things?" He asked, effectively switching subjects, however unsubtle. Alex studied him silently for a second, wondering why he was so eager to drop it. But she went along with it, even though she was thrown off.
She followed his gaze. "Uh, yeah," Alex answered eloquently. "People ride these things." She looked at him curiously for a moment, mystified all over again. "Haven't you been around since, uh, the dawn of time?"
"And before then, too," he answered, still looking around at the scenery in what might be called stern fascination. His previous more unassuming demeanor was gone, and he was the gruff angel she was more familiar with.
She felt herself smiling a little though, because if he'd been around that long, what had he been doing? Twiddling his thumbs as the world went on outside his window? "Okay, so why don't you know about, I don't know, handshakes and personal space and carnival rides?" Alex asked—and unlike her earlier questions to him, she wasn't being sarcastic or rude. She honestly wanted to know.
Cas smirked at that briefly, somehow finding humor in her question, and there were little smile lines crinkling the corners of his eyes. That was the first time she had seen him smile for real, lips turned upward, the expression reaching his eyes. It surprised her. And she liked it. "I suppose you could say..." he thought a moment, "I've missed a few of the details." He looked at her again and she felt small and easy to see through. "Until I obtained my vessel, I saw the world and humanity through a glass darkly."
Interesting. "And when you got your vessel...?" Alex prompted.
His expression softened, and his eyes seemed to see someplace far away as he reflected. "Every day has held uncountable wonders. It's so complex, the human mind. Creation. People. Life." He seemed genuine and truly reverent, and it made her feel similar things somehow.
For a moment, she envied Cas. "Must be nice," she said bleakly, then let a humorless little smile come over her lips. "To me it's all one damn crapfest after another."
Castiel looked at her closely. "I suppose that's understandable," he said, his voice low. "All your life, you've been fighting."
"Yeah," she agreed kind of heavily. "Doesn't look like that's set to end anytime soon." She paused. "Well. Unless we can stop the apocalypse." No big deal, right? It was just the end of the freaking world. She rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers tiredly, shook her head, glanced at Cas as she crossed her arms and shifted her weight. "Do you think we actually have a shot?"
Castiel took in a heavy breath and let it out, looking at her with grimness. "Times are dark. The future is very uncertain. Much will be lost."
Well that was optimistic. Alex swallowed and her crossed arms fell, loosened. Would her worst fears would become a reality? Something in the pit of her stomach was filled with such profound foreboding and dread, and in her mind's eye, she saw two young men who she clung to, loved, and needed in her life. "Castiel," she almost pleaded, "I can't lose my brothers. I've watched Sam die. I've watched Dean die. I can't do it again."
He seemed almost empathetic, his expression soft as he approached her. He didn't speak for a long moment. "You need to prepare yourself for that possibility."
Her stomach twisted at his words and she shook her head in denial. "They're all I've got left," she said, as if that would change something.
"I know," he replied softly. Castiel came closer still, and reached out to her. She didn't shrink back, just watched him apprehensively. "It's time for you to wake up, Alex," he said, and two of his fingers came to softly touch her forehead.
Alex was abruptly waking up laying awkwardly in the back of the Impala. But she could somehow feel the warm buzz under her skin where Castiel's fingers had grazed. The dream and Castiel's words, face, presence all disoriented her and remained with her as she laid there for a long moment, trying to process everything that had just happened. She was filled with a deep sadness that seemed to transcend sleepiness or grogginess.
She realized that the car wasn't running. It was silent, and neither Sam or Dean were inside. She could see that the sky outside was still dim, like the sun hadn't come up yet. She sat up slowly, casting glances around until she saw the familiar figures of her brothers—Sam's tall, broad-shouldered one, Dean's shorter, more compact—they were standing about twenty feet off from the car at the edge of a huge, open field. Alex scooted out of the car and went to her brothers, shivering a little. It was cold and damp, a morning where fog laid low, like a blanket, across the land. The sun would be up soon—the sky was a pale violet color, and frost crunched under her boots.
Her brothers acknowledged her arrival with a glance (Dean), and a tight smile (Sam). "November second," Sam said softly, eyes fixed on the horizon.
"November second," Alex echoed quietly.
There was a long, heavy silence, all three of the Winchesters lost in their own thoughts and grief. Alex wanted so badly to tell them about the dream... about Castiel... about the feeling she couldn't shake that something horrible was going to happen. But she remained silent. Sam, finally spoke up softly. "You know, when I think about everything we've lost... all the complete crap we've been through... all because of him." They knew who Sam was talking about. Azazel.
"Wish I could've stopped it," Dean said softly. "I tried. I tried like hell. I could've prevented you from being pumped full of demon blood, Sam. I could've saved you from spending your life mute, Alex. Mom could've even lived, maybe. Dad would still be here..." his voice was full of a pain and guilt he didn't deserve to carry, and Alex looked at him. It was hard to see very well in the dark, but he looked miserable.
"Hey." Alex demanded his gaze. "Dean. What Yellow Eyes did wasn't your fault, and it never will be. You took care of him—he got what was coming." She paused, reflecting somberly, staring down at the ground, her hands in her jacket pockets. "And this family, what's left of it, is stronger than what he threw at us. He tried to silence me, he tried to use Sam. He tried to rip us apart." She looked up at the brightening horizon. "Well. It didn't work."
"I'll drink to that," Dean said. He looked distracted, but gave her a half-smile. Sam put his arm around Alex, squeezing her shoulder tightly.
For another long moment, silence spanned the group. In the distance, a raven called. Sam wet his lips and then spoke to the air in front of him. "Mom. Wherever you are... I just hope we make you proud."
Alex stared out at the horizon, stone-faced. Castiel's words haunted her. Times are dark. The future is very uncertain. Much will be lost.
They drove the rest of that day, mostly in silence and reflection. Alex went back and forth mentally, trying to figure out how to bring up Cas's dream-visit to her brothers. She wasn't sure how exactly to explain it... "oh yeah, by the way, Cas came to me in another secret dream and told me he's the one who gave me my voice back"—would that suffice? She let it go awhile and just spaced out, staring at the ceiling as she picked apart the dream piece by piece in her mind. Wondered about Mom. Hoped Castiel was wrong about the apocalypse. And in the deepest places of her mind, she couldn't stop thinking of the way his face had looked when he'd told her he was the one who had healed her. Her guardian angel had decided all on his own to fix what was broken. It made her heart swell and emotions rise when she thought about it too much. He hadn't needed to, and no one had made him. He'd just done it for her because he'd seen her pain. Wow. What was she supposed to do with that information?
Finally, Dean declared that it was time to stop and eat. Dean picked a local bar and grill—the outside was decorated with a ridiculous dancing pineapple mascot. They were seated inside, where Dean hungrily scanned the menu, and Alex sat there silently, feeling queasy. She exchanged a glance with Sam, who she knew wanted to ask Dean about Hell. He hadn't found an opportunity yet, and neither had she.
A scrawny pale guy in a bright vest covered in shiny, multicolored pins arrived to their table, an order pad in hand. He had the most ridiculous smile on his face, and Alex was immediately annoyed. "Alllllright folks, how we doing? Great!" the waiter said, without giving them a chance to reply. "Start you guys off with a chili dog dipper to share? Or a delicious MexiNacho fiesta?"
"No, we—" Sam started, but the waiter didn't hear him. "Get you guys a nice cheddar roaster burger, huh? Or our jalapeño Frito pie—it's great on days like this!" Days where your mom died? Days where you are about to confront your brother on what Hell was like? Days where an angel basically implied you would lose both of your brothers in the coming days?
"I'll have the chef salad," Sam said, and handed his menu over cautiously, as if the waiter might be contagious.
Dean snapped his menu shut. "Burger. With bacon. And cheese. All the toppings, extra onions. Do not burn it. Fries on the side. And bring me some three wise men shots." Dean's favorite... a blend of several kinds of whiskey.
"Sure thing! How many, man?"
"I dunno, let's start with eight," Dean said nonchalantly, to which the waiter's eyes went a little wide for a minute. He peered at Dean over to top of his notepad, trying to figure out if Dean were serious. Even Sam and Alex looked at Dean a little oddly.
"Uh, okie doke!" the waiter said, resuming his inhumanly wide smile. He turned to Alex. "And what for the lovely lady?"
"Nothing, thanks," she said with dismissal apathy.
But the waiter's face went all sensitive, like she had just broken sad news to him. "Oh, come on now... how about our new smoky and sweet chicken-delishen sandwich? Super yummy!"
"No, I—"
"Or our in-house specialty, the firegrilled pineapple enchiladas? Yum-o!"
Alex gave him her best death glare. "I said nothing."
His smile faltered, then was back with a vengeance. "Okay, well just let me know if you change your—"
"Just go away man!" Alex said peevishly, not looking at him anymore.
"Uh yeah, right on," the waiter said, still managing to sound upbeat. He scurried away.
"Meow," Dean commented with a chuckle. He got a bitchy expression from his sister in response.
"You really should eat something, Alex," Sam said, his tone worried. "You've lost weight."
Alex ignored his comment, and cut to the chase, fiddling with her silverware nervously. "Castiel is the one who gave me my voice back."
"What?" both brothers chorused, staring in disbelief.
"Yup. He showed up again in a dream of mine last night and... it was him." She clanged her fork down onto the table and looked at both of them in turn. There was a shocked silence.
"Did he say why?" Sam asked, incredulously.
"Yeah," she said, shrugging, studying her fork closely. She didn't go into detail, because it felt sort of personal. "The goodness of his own heart."
Both of her brothers immediately looked very suspicious. "It wasn't a, you know, God thing?" Dean asked pointedly.
"Apparently not. He said he got in trouble for it."
"So he did it... on his own?" Dean surmised. He didn't look like he loved that sound of that at all.
"The plot thickens," Sam muttered, and Dean's face was working overtime, his expression confounded and then pissed and then doubtful.
For the next few minutes, they theorized back and forth halfheartedly, and Dean ended it with an exasperated "Freakin' angels. Who knows!"
The food arrived in a few minutes, and Alex waited as long as humanly possible to bring up the next subject to her oldest brother. After maybe his fifth huge bite of his burger, and a couple of his shots, she charged forward. "So, listen Dean. Uriel paid us a visit yesterday." Sam stopped mid-bite, glancing at Alex before looking at Dean intently.
"How nice," Dean said flatly, and downed his third shot of the night.
Alex leaned forward over her folded arms, trying to get his attention. "Which part? The one where he threatened to turn Sam to dust when he uses his powers again, or the part where he told us to ask you what you remember from Hell?"
Dean almost choked on his shot. "Come again?"
"You heard me."
Dean looked between his siblings, and then seemed to draw the conclusion that they were ambushing him. He shook his head and jabbed a finger in each of their directions. "Okay, first of all, I don't remember Hell, at all. And second, when were you gonna tell me a damn angel threatened your life, Sam?"
"Forget the threat, Dean. That's neither here nor there. Why would Uriel tell me you remembered Hell if you didn't?"
"Maybe because he's a dick," Dean retorted gruffly. "Might have something to do with it."
"What, he told us that just to screw with our heads? That makes sense." Alex retorted.
"Yeah, I dunno! I mean this is the angel who was ready to level an entire town. Look, I don't know what—"
"Radical!" The cheerful waiter from hell was back, and unaware of the argument he was interrupting. "What else can I get you guys?"
"Uh, I think we're fine," Sam said, trying to politely get rid of the waiter. It didn't work.
"Yeah? You guys don't wanna try a couple of fryer bombs? Or a chipotle chili changa?"
"Uh, no, thanks, we're good," Sam said, while Alex just gave the server an evil eye. This dude was too much, especially right now.
The waiter looked over at Alex, his smile faltering a little. "Okay, awesome!" He then said, and left.
Dean glanced at Alex. "Look, honestly, I have no idea why Uriel told you what he did, okay?" He smiled a very sarcastic, acrimonious smile and attempted to down another shot. Alex's hand darted out and grabbed the shot glass right out of his hand just before he had it at his lips. "Hey!" Dean exclaimed. She had leaned back in her chair, holding the shot out of his reach.
"You're lying." She accused.
"I am not! Give me my damn shot," Dean said, and swiped angrily at the shot glass. She did not comply, just stared at him, unamused.
"Okay, fine," Sam said, attempting to reason with Dean. "If you're not lying, you can look me in the eye and tell me you don't remember a thing from your time down under."
Sam waited expectantly, and Dean, rolling his eyes and sending an evil eye at Alex, looked Sam in the eye impatiently. "I don't remember a thing from my time down under. I don't remember, Sam!" Dean was agitated, and a couple people at a nearby table looked over curiously at the outburst.
"Look, Dean, we just wanna help," Sam said, trying to play the compassion card.
Dean shot him down. "You know everything I do. Okay? That's all there is!"
"Outstanding!" Said the cheerful waiter, who seemed to reappear out of thin air. At the sight of him, Alex took the shot she'd kidnapped and downed it, much to Dean's dismay. "Dessert time? Huh? Am I right?"
"Dude," Dean said, losing patience, with the waiter and with his siblings both.
"We don't want any," Alex said, her tone decidedly menacing.
Still, the waiter's plastered smile didn't waver and he launched into another attempt at upselling. He leaned down over the table as if sharing some great secret with them. "You have got to try our ice cream extreme. It's extreme."
Alex crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. "Yeah, bring me some. I'll shove it right up—"
"Whoa, whoa. Just the check, man," Sam said, attempting a lighthearted chuckle to cover up his siblings rudeness.
"All right! Awesome!" The waiter whipped their bill out from behind his pin-studded vest and slapped it on the table before walking off, a ridiculous smile still on his face.
"Geez, Al, what's with bitch mode?" Dean asked, giving her a dirty look.
She returned the dirty look. "Give me another one of those." Before he could react, she had snatched another one of his shots.
"Hey!" he exclaimed, then "dammit, Alex," when she drank it.
Sam just sighed, flustered and a little embarrassed. People were staring. Dean, protectively guarding the last couple shots he had, looked to Sam. "All right, so, where do we go from here?"
"I'm not sure," Sam said, "Uh, looks like it's been pretty quiet lately. No signs of demon activity, no omens or portents I can see."
"That's good news for once," Dean said, and reached for his glass of beer.
Alex made a sound like "pssh" and when he looked at her sullenly, she gave him a pointed look. "It's too quiet. Remember the whole apocalypse thing?"
Dean's expression soured slightly. "Trying not to."
Sam, who had pulled his laptop out, handed it over to Dean. "Here, check this out. Uh... up in Concrete, Washington, eyewitness reports of a ghost that's been haunting the showers of a women's health facility." Dean choked on his beer. "The victim claims that the ghost threw her down a flight of stairs." Dean threw his napkin onto his plate and crammed a couple last french fries into his mouth. Sam chuckled. "I can see you're very interested."
Dean was slapping down cash onto the table, suddenly in a huge hurry. "Women, showers. We have got to save these people."
Even though she was pissed with him, Alex chuckled a little at typical Dean. "Oooof course we do," she said, to which he winked as he stood, already pushing the chair in and headed for the door.
"Why do we let him stay in charge, again?" Alex asked Sam, who just shrugged helplessly, laughing a little. He got a little more serious, and pulled her back for a second as Dean walked ahead.
"It'll come out, Alex" Sam told her quietly. "He'll tell us eventually. I know he will."
"Yeah..." Alex replied, but she wasn't sure. Dean had enough issues to fill the grand canyon, but almost always refused to face them. He was constantly on emotional lockdown... even to his family. Did he really remember the horrors of Hell? Why wouldn't he tell either her or Sam? Deeply troubled, Alex trailed her brothers out of the restaurant.
"Have a nice day! Come back and see us!" The waiter yelled after her, waving and smiling like he was saying goodbye to an old friend. It took all she had not to turn around and salute him with her middle finger.