Disclaimer: I own nothing but Aleksandrya. Everything else belongs to Mr. Kripke and the CW.
Age 24
Alek collapsed, broken, at the edge of the dingy mattress on which Sam's lifeless body lay. She should have been there. She could have stopped it. She could have saved him. Breaking into sobs, she curled against the lifeless form of her brother, her friend, her confidant. What had she done? What had she missed because of her foolish pride?
"Alek?" A gruff voice asked, drawing her out of her misery.
Sheepishly, she began to furiously swipe at the tears coursing down her face. "Hi Bobby."
The aging hunter took one look at his daughter and pulled her into his arms, letting her weep against his shoulder. "Shh. Shh. I'm so sorry baby girl. I'm so sorry."
"Why are you apologizing Bobby? You didn't do this."
Bobby shook his head, pressing her face against his chest. "No. But I should've called you. I should've told you what was going on."
Alek shrugged. "It's too late now. No sense in apologizing." Wiping the last remnants of tears from her face, she looked around the room. "Where's Dean?"
Bobby settled himself on the floor, ignoring his body's protests, and settled Alek in his lap like he had done so many times when she was younger. "I don't know. He went roaring out of here a few hours ago. Told me to stay with Sam."
Alek nodded wearily. Her mind wasn't really on the other hunter anyway. It was on Sam. Behind her eyes, memories flashed. Sam, when she first met him. Wrestling in the grass. Sleeping in each other's beds. Sneaking into each other's rooms when Bobby told them they were too old to sleep together. Moonlit nights on top of junk cars as they talked about the future. Everything that had built their bond. Everything they did together, that they gave to each other, silently, without having to be asked, because they just knew.
The memories became too much, and she broke into another round of tears. She felt herself being lifted and knew, if she glanced up, she'd see her Uncle Balthazar there, just like he always was. Just like she knew, if she looked at whomever had laid their head against her shoulder, she'd see her Uncle Gabriel.
Minutes passed, or it could have been hours. She didn't know. Finally, the tears slowed, and she crawled off her uncle. She pressed a soft kiss to Sam's cold cheek and gave Bobby one last hug. Walking back to her uncles, she wrapped her arms around her trickster family member, and, in a broken voice, whispered "Take me out of here."
Her uncles complied without hesitation. She never heard the soft groan come from the bed. She never saw Sam's eyes blink open slowly. She just disappeared. It wouldn't be until weeks later, after she had Sam's birthday tattooed on her shoulder, that she was told he lived.