January 15th, 2013
El Paso, Illinois
She was alone. The street was dark, lit only by the occasional streetlight, and snowflakes fell through the cold winter air, covering the ground. The young girl pulled her thin jacket tighter around her, suppressing a shiver. She hated life, and she hated living like she did. They had fought again, and now she had been thrown out of the house for the night as punishment. She kicked at a loose stone, sending it clattering down the street. Stupid foster family. Like they gave a damn about her.
Suddenly there was light. A bright, blinding light that was gone as soon as it had appeared. Darkness surrounded the young girl as the ground disappeared beneath her feet, and the next thing she knew she was falling.
Alex's eyes snapped open as her body jerked, and her wings flared out in surprise. The angel jumped to her feet, eyes wide as her heart pounded within her chest as her mind replayed the last seconds over and over again. That feeling of falling, of plummeting to her death and not being able to fly.
Alex dropped back onto the bed, the butt of her hands digging into her forehead. It was just a dream, she reminded her racing heart. Just a memory. She was here with the Winchesters in El Paso, Illinois. It had been a week since she had heard from Castiel, and a week since the three of them had last found a case to work.
A hand came to rest on her shoulder, and Alex jumped in surprise, head snapping to the side to see Sam Winchester's look of concern. "Hey. You okay?"
"Yeah. I just … had a dream." Alex brushed his hand away and rose to her feet, squinting as she crossed the room to her backpack that lay illuminated in the moonlight. "I mean, it wasn't exactly a dream, more of a … a memory." She pulled out her worn, leather journal and flipped it open to the very first page, fingers tracing the spine as the read the very first date that was scrawled across the top of the page.
December 15th, 2013.
The journal slipped from her hands, and Alex stared blankly down at the ground. How had she forgotten? That was last month. Exactly one month ago.
"Alex. Is everything okay?" The floorboards creaked as Sam got up, and Alex looked up at her friend. "What's going on?"
"Nothing. It's nothing." Alex picked up her journal as the Winchester crouched down beside her. "It's just … the day that I fell onto the Impala. It was December 15th, 2013. Just last month." Alex slid off of her knees to sit fully on the ground. "I didn't even think of it until now." She let her journal drop back down to the ground, and she shrugged. "It's really nothing, I just didn't think this day would come." Alex let out a small grin, eyes turning onto Sam. "Just think that in four days I'd be turning eighteen. And yet somehow I'm almost twenty four."
Sam's hand firmly clapped her on the shoulder, and Alex's wings flicked at the touch. "Yeah, that's weird," he agreed. "Um, I'm going to go back to bed, okay?"
"Yeah." Alex shifted so she was leaning up against the wall as the Winchester stood up. "That's fine. I'll see you in the morning."
...
Alex leaned back against the wall as she watched the two Winchesters move around the room. Dean was sitting just below her to her left, tying his left boot in preparation for their departure to lunch, and Sam was tidying in the mirror, just out of her sight, but Alex could hear the water running as he dried his hands. The morning had passed quickly as the two Winchesters searched for work. The young angel shifted on her crossed legs, eyes flitting over her old journal; she had been flipping through it all day. Currently, she was sitting up on one of the wooden dressers, doing her best to enjoy the height. "I'm thinking maybe pizza," she suggested from her perch. "I'm feeling pepperoni and sausage. With extra cheese."
Sam didn't answer, but Dean let out a low, nonverbal noise of agreement. Alex nodded, content, but she closed her book when the room began to hum. She looked around; neither of the brothers seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary, and she tipped her head as her wings twitched in curiosity. That wasn't normal. It felt … strange. What was it?
Her question was immediately answered as the closet door glowed with a bright and violent white light, and the next second it was flung open, a heavy object falling through to the ground. Alex jumped, eyes wide as the light faded and she took in what lay in front of them.
A man?
The man looked up at the three of them, blue eyes darting across Sam and Dean before he finally spoke, his voice hurried and demanding. "Which of you is John Winchester?" he inquired agitatedly. Sam and Dean exchanged looks of pure confusion, and Alex slid off of the dresser as the man rose to his feet. "Please! Time is of the essence! Which of you is John Winchester?"
"Uh … neither," Sam stuttered out while his brother only continued to stare.
"Why did a hot man fall out of our closet?" she queried, moving closer as she took in the handsome stranger in a suit. "That's never happened before."
"T-That's impossible." The man ignored Alex's comment as he stared at Sam in surprise. "That's absolutely … What did I do wrong?"
"I wish it'd happen more often," Alex continued, voice dropping into a mumble as she circled around the man.
"Who the hell are you, mister?" By this time Dean had risen to his feet, but the stranger ignored him with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"Not now," he insisted, rubbing his chin as he turned away. "I'm thinking." Alex stepped out of the way as anger flashed across Dean Winchester's face, and he moved past her to shoved the man forcefully up against the wall. He pinned him against the closet door, one arm firmly across his chest, and the man grunted at the sudden impact. "Please," he got out, pausing a moment to regain the calm control over his voice. "I can assure you there's no need for violence. One of you must know John Winchester."
"Why are you looking for him?" Alex asked, and she folded her arms across her chest as she spoke.
Sam reached out and put a gentle hand on her shoulder, silencing her. "Tell you what," he challenged instead. "When one of us falls out of your closet, then you can ask the questions."
For some reason, Sam's words seemed to ring true with the stranger. "Yes, I apologize," he conceded before he turned his attention to Dean, who still had the stranger pinned tightly against the door. "Is it absolutely essential, sir, that you keep your hands on me?"
"Let him go, Dean," Alex agreed. "He's human; no weapon on him that I can discern. He won't get far if he tries to run." Her words were convincing, and Dean stepped back with a low glare. Alex nodded towards the gentleman. "What's your name?" she inquired.
"Henry." The man wiped his nose with a handkerchief. "And thank you, but in the absence of any and all other explanations, I'm afraid this has been a marvelous, tragic misunderstanding. I'll be on my way." Henry stepped forward, ready to make his way towards the door, but Sam and Dean blocked his way.
"That's not happening," Sam warned, and Alex heard the faint clink of metal as Dean removed a pair of handcuffs from the bag laying on the chair.
She wasn't sure if Henry noticed, because he kept his eyes on Sam's face as his voice grew stoic. "This is of grave importance," he insisted. "I do not have the time to with the likes of you."
Sam reached out and grabbed Henry's arm, and the man reacted violently. Alex watched the quick skirmish that took place; it wasn't long before Dean managed to pin one arm behind Henry's back. "You're not going anywhere, 007, till we get some answers," the hunter retorted.
The skirmish started up again, a blur of arms and bodies that lasted merely seconds, and in the midst of it all Alex heard the whir of handcuffs being locked into place. She tipped her head in amusement to find that Henry had escaped unharmed, and now both Winchesters were handcuffed together through the slats of the wooden chair. "You need to teach me that one," she joked, unable to share in the brother's dislike and distrust towards the man in front of them. Why get all worked up over a situation she could handle?
"How did he do that?" Sam breathed out as he tried to tug himself free. "You've got to be kidding me! Alex!"
The angel stepped in front of the door, a hand held up to keep Henry from leaving. "Uh, no. You're not going anywhere. This has been fun and all, but why don't you go sit down so we can talk?"
"Ma'am, you need to get out of my way." Henry tried to slip by her, but Alex refused, head held high. "You don't understand," the stranger added, his tone growing darker and more concerned. "There is something of extreme importance I must do before …"
"Before what?" Alex challenged. "Listen, man. You came through our closet, which makes your little spy mission my damn concern. You know John Winchester, which means this has got something to do with the supernatural, so you're just in luck. You got a hunting problem, you're looking at some of the best damn hunters on this side of the planet. You're not getting out of this door, so why don't you sit down and tell us what's going on."
"What do you know about our dad?" Dean added angrily, and with a grunt he finished picking the handcuff's lock. It sprung open, and he rubbed his wrist as he stalked up to Henry.
Shock paled the man's face. "John Winchester is your father?" Henry asked in disbelief. He looked over at Sam, and then down at Alex. "A-All of yours?"
Alex opened her mouth to correct the man, but the closet door began to rattle with a violent force. "Uh … Henry, what's that?"
"Oh my God." Henry turned to stare at the closet, and his feet carried him a step back. "Run!"
Light spilled through the room as the door burst open, and a woman stepped through. Bright lipstick, pale skin, brilliantly ginger hair. Blood stained her neat dress, and Sam and Dean shifted closer together as they eyed the new and obvious threat. "Henry." The woman let out a laugh, her face twisted violently and mercilessly into pain and suffering as her true form flashed in front of Alex's eyes. "Silly man, you forgot to lock the door. But spells were never your best subject, were they?" She laughed again, this time her voice taking on a much darker and sinister tone. "Why don't you be a doll and give me what I want? And I promise I will kill you and your friends here quickly."
"You know I can't do that." Henry shifted in front of Alex, moving to protect her from the demon's gaze, and Alex rolled her wings back, keeping them pinned tightly against her body as she sized up the demon in front of her. Dark energy rolled off of her like waves, a demonic power unlike anything Alex had seen before radiating off her twisted soul. Her feathers ruffled uncomfortably at the touch.
For some reason, the demon either didn't acknowledge or didn't recognize Alex for who she was, too focused on the man in front of her. "You're not a fighter, Henry," she insisted. Her arms flew out to her sides, and Alex watched as the two Winchester brothers were flung violently across the room, hitting the far walls with a loud, painful thud.
Henry moved back further, his own hands going out to shelter Alex. "Josie," he pleaded. "I know you're still in there. You must fight this —"
"Get out of my way." Alex shoved Henry to the side as the demon stepped closer, and she let her wings rise up into sight. "Who the hell do you think you are?" she challenged, angel blade falling into her fist. She raised her chin and rolled her shoulders back as the demon stopped, curious at the sight of her.
"Well well well." The demon clicked her tongue. "I haven't seen your kind in a long, long time. Now what's an angel like you doing down in a place like this? I thought your Daddy didn't like you coming down here anymore."
"Go away." Alex let her grace rear up, sparking through the room and burning against the demon's own touch, and she narrowed her eyes in satisfaction as the creature hissed in pain. "I don't care why you're here, but if you're not gone in the next five seconds I swear to God I will kill you where you stand."
The demon chuckled. "You're not strong enough, kiddo," she sneered, and her eyes flashed black. "If you think —" There was a blur of color behind her, and the demon let out a scream as her throat and face flashed with an orange light. Dean yanked the demon knife out of her back, and the demon fell to the ground in agony. "T-That's not way to treat a lady," she hissed out, and Alex took a slight step back, her confidence faltering at the sight of the demon still alive. She twirled her weapon in her hand twice before she lunged forward, but then the demon was gone.
The room was dead silent for three seconds, and then Henry pushed past her and ran to the bathroom. Alex heard the sound of wrenching, and she turned to look at the brothers with a shake of her head. "Who is this guy? I've never seen a hunter vomit at that before."
Sam looked just as somber and confused as she felt, but Dean snapped, "Why didn't you kill her? What the hell?"
"Hey!" Alex immediately fell on the defense, and her grace pulled her weapon back up into her sleeve. "That wasn't just a demon, Dean. I mean it was, but it wasn't — I have no idea what the hell that thing was. It was way too powerful to be just one of your everyday black-eyed bitches."
"She's right." Henry stepped back into the room, wiping his mouth with his handkerchief before he addressed the three hunters. "That was Abaddon. She's a very powerful demon."
"You okay?" Sam asked, concern lining his voice, and Alex could tell even from across the room that the stranger was still not feeling well.
She moved forward to stand at Dean's side as Henry nodded. "Yes, I will be," he agreed, "It's just that all of the adventures I enjoy are usually of the literary nature."
"Ah," Alex expounded, "you're a nerd. Sorry, I assumed you were a hunter, but, uh, I guess you really don't have a lot of experience with demons."
"Yeah. Where's she from?" Sam added, while Dean followed up with an aggressively-aimed, "Where are you from?"
Henry tucked his handkerchief back into his pocket. "She's from hell," he explained, and Alex rolled her eyes at the over-obvious statement, but her interest peaked as he added, "and I'm from Normal, Illinois. 1958."
"Yeah, right." Dean let out a loud scoff of disbelief, but Henry's face remained stoic and honest. "Seriously?" Dean turned to look at his brother. "Dude's time-traveling through motel-room closet? That's what we've come to?" He looked back at Alex, expecting some form of correction, but the angel only shrugged.
Henry shook his head, but he didn't push the topic. "If you could just take me to John, we could clear this all up, I'm sure," he promised, eyes darting around the room as if he expected the hunter to come through the door at any second.
"I don't think that's going to be possible," Alex began quietly. "Henry, John Winchester has been dead for years."
No one was prepared for the shock and the sadness that flashed through Henry's face, and he turned away. "No."
Sam narrowed his eyes. "What's it to you?"
"Everything." Henry turned back to them, blue eyes searching Sam's face for any sign of deception. "I … I'm his father."
"Whoa." Alex stepped forward, leaving the two brothers to absorb the shocking news. "You. You're Henry Winchester? You're their grandfather. No way. I-I'm Alex, and that's Sam and Dean Winchester. John's boys."
"Are you not …"
"No, I'm an angel." Alex flapped her wings twice in emphasis before remembering he couldn't see them. "No relation to the Winchester line. Speaking of lines," she added with a glance over her shoulder, "Maybe this could all be discussed over lunch? This definitely seems like an over-a-meal kind of topic, don't you think? I'm still down for pizza."
...
They ended up getting burgers. Alex was left at the table across from Henry Winchester while the brothers stood up by the counter, heads bowed deep in muttered conversation while they waited for their food. The angel leaned back in her seat as she watched how the man stared at an old photograph in his hand. It had come from his own pocket, and although the angel had only caught a quick glimpse of it, it appeared to be of him and his young son. "How are you doing?" she asked, determined to break the silence that sat between them.
"I'll be fine," Henry promised, and he finally looked up. "After all, despite everything, I've met my grandsons, haven't I?" he looked over at the two brothers before he turned back to Alex. "I'm Henry Winchester. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Alex." Alex reached over the table to shake his hand. "No last name. And ditto. I've heard a lot about your son. He was a good man."
Sadness darkened Henry's eyes for the shortest of seconds before he nodded. "I can only hope so," he agreed. "You … you said you were an angel. I didn't realize your kind worked with legacies." Before Alex could question his strange wording he looked up at Sam and Dean as they sat down at the table with them. "We got off on the wrong foot," he began as Sam sat down next to him. "I'm Henry Winchester."
"Sam." Sam shook his hand as Dean set their food down and plopped down in the chair next to Alex.
"Hello, Sam." Henry pulled his hand away and turned to Dean, arm extending in an attempt of a greeting, but Dean ignored it.
"Dinner," the Winchester announced, firmly distributing the trays to everyone.
Sam's lips twisted downwards at the disrespect of his brother. "This is Dean," he introduced, shooting his brother a carefully aimed glare. Dean ignored it and pulled his food closer.
"Well, this has been touching," he announced scathingly. "How about we figure out how to clean up your mess, huh?"
Henry's eyes dropped down to his lap. "Abaddon," he expounded. "Yes. She must be stopped."
"How come she didn't die when I stabbed her?" the eldest brother asked sharply, and Alex rolled her eyes at his blatant aggression. She kicked him under the table, and he shot her a dark look.
Their grandfather didn't seem to notice the exchange, or if he did, he didn't show it. "Because demons can't be killed with run-of-the-mill cutlery," he explained, voice as honest as if he truly believed Dean had just stabbed the woman with a butterknife. "At the very least, you'd need an ancient demon-killing knife of the Kurds."
Dean pulled his jacket aside to partly pull out the knife from Ruby. "That's what this is," he retorted, green eyes flashing in disapproval.
Henry stared at the intricately carved blade in surprise. "Where did you get that?"
"Demon gave it to me." Dean shoved the knife back into his jacket pocket and let it fall back against his chest. "We've been around this block so many times."
"It's true," Alex agreed, fingers playing with a thinly-cut french fry. "We've killed a lot of demons in the past few years. We know what we're doing."
"Now, this portal," Sam began as Dean took a large bite of his burger, "or whatever it was you came through — is it still open?"
Henry shook his head. "I highly doubt it," he decided. "Why?"
"I'm just thinking that if we can't kill this Abaddon —"
"Maybe we can shove her back where she came from," Dean finished as he dropped his burger down onto his tray, wiping mayonnaise off of his lips with the back of his hand. "How did you do it?"
Henry looked between the two brothers. "It's a blood sigil," he finally explained. "Blood leads to blood. Or next of kin."
"But Abaddon came through it, also, right?" Sam asked, and when Henry gave a small nod, he added, "So can you created the sigil again?"
Their grandfather looked thoughtful. "An angel feather, tears of a dragon, a pinch of the sands of time — I — I would need those things," he explained, "and a week for my soul to recharge, but yes, it's possible."
"Well, I have the feathers." Alex leaned forward, curiosity lighting up her gaze. "And you used your soul to power it? Wow. I've never heard of humans being able to do that. Kudos."
"You should know this." Henry's eyes narrowed in confusion as he looked between the two brothers, but when neither of them seemed to agree with him, his head tipped to one side. "Wait. What level are you three?"
"What level?"
"Level of knowledge," Henry repeated. "You're Men of Letters, correct?"
Alex looked up to see Sam and Dean exchange looks, and she shook her head as Dean retorted, "I'm a little rusty on my boy bands. Men of what?"
"Men of Letters. Like your father, who taught you our ways." The confusion in the Winchester's eyes grew even more, clouding and darkening the blue sparkle.
"Our father taught us how to be hunters," Sam began slowly, and Henry looked over at Alex.
"Hunters," he repeated. "I … I didn't think you were being quite so serious. Are you?" When Alex nodded, he gave a disappointed shake of his head. "Well, hunters … hunters are apes," he told Sam and Dean. "You're suppose to be legacies."
"Legacies of what?"
"Whoa whoa whoa." Alex's wings curled forward as something flickered in the back of her mind. "Wait. Men of Letters as in the Men of Letters? I-I thought that was just a story. B-Bobby mentioned it once a really long time ago," she added to Sam and Dean. "It … it's just supposed to be a myth. An underground cult of supernatural nerds. No way."
"It's not a myth," Henry promised. "I was to be initiated before … well, before this. I … where are we?"
"Uh, El Paso, Illinois." Alex watched as Henry suddenly rose to his feet. "Whoa. What? Where are we go?"
"Normal, Illinois. I can take you to our location right now. Perhaps they'll be able to explain this all. Come along," he urged when Sam and Dean only stared up at them. "Abaddon won't stay away long."
His words seemed to convince the brothers, and Dean rose to his feet with a muttered grumble. He grabbed his remaining burger and stuck it into his mouth before he led the way out. Alex followed with a shake of her head.
...
Alex leaned against the side of a brick building, listening carefully for the familiar purr of the Impala as it rolled down the street. It pulled to a stop, and the engine died as the young angel pushed herself off of the wall and crossed the street to greet the two brothers. "Hey. How was the drive?"
"Take a guess." Dean watched as Henry hurried off down the street and turned down an alleyway, and Alex moved after him before Dean shook his head and followed.
"What's going on here?" Henry demanded as he stared up at a worn sign above a door. Alex shrugged as she read it. Astro Comics. The Winchester reached out and touched an old, faded symbol carved into the wooden door. "No."
"Alright, well, this was enlightening." Dean clapped his hand once, startling Alex into jumping. "Let's hit the road, huh?"
"Give him a minute, Dean." Sam's voice was quiet with sympathy, but Dean wasn't having it.
"We just spent like an hour driving, okay? All he did was stare out the window and request Pat Boone on the radio." A low glare at Henry accompanied his words, but the man didn't seem to notice, so Dean added, "He had his time."
"It's just a facade," Henry insisted, even though he sounded as if he wasn't convinced himself. "A way to fool our enemies into believing we are housed elsewhere."
Dean folded his arms angrily. "Okay, enough with the decoder crap," he snapped, and Alex's wings flicked uncomfortably at his sharp tone. "How about you tell us what this whole 'Men of Letters' business is, or you're on your own."
Henry shook his head. "It's none of your concern."
"Why?" Dean challenged. "Because we're hunters? What do you have against us?"
Henry turned to face Dean, eyes studying the hunter that stood in front of him. "Aside from the unthinking, unwashed, shoot-first-and-don't-bother-to-ask-questions-later part, not much, really."
Alex stepped in between the two men, hands extended to keep them apart — and more importantly, to keep Dean from shooting his grandfather. "Whoa whoa," she warned. "Dean, maybe you guys should leave. I'll stay behind and help Henry with all of this. He and I can handle Abaddon on our own."
Dean seemed to agree with that statement, but Sam firmly shook his head. "We're not leaving you guys to deal with that demon by yourselves," he insisted before he turned to Henry. "No. You know what? We're also John's children."
"You're more than that, actually." Henry addressed Sam directly, ignoring the bristling hunter next to him. "My father and his father before him were both Men of Letters, as John and you two should have been. We're preceptors, beholders, chroniclers for all which man does not understand. We share our findings with a few trusted hunters — the very elite. They do the rest."
"So you're like the Yoda to our Jedi," Dean half-joked, but his smile faltered when all he received was a blank stare. "Never mind. You'll get there."
"Okay." Sam turned the conversation away from Dean's quip and back to the case, "but if you guys were such a big deal, then why haven't we — or anyone know — ever heard of you?"
Henry's face darkened. "Abaddon." He pushed open the wooden door and stepped into the comic shop.
Dean and Sam exchanged looks before they followed. "Henry. Why? Why'd she do it?"
The Winchester reached into his pocket of his suit pants and pulled out a small wooden box. "I think for this," he murmured.
"Uh, okay. What's in the box?" Alex reached out to trace the circular symbol carved into the wooden lid, but Henry pulled it away from her touch.
"I wish I knew." He slid the box back into his pocket. "Abaddon attacked me the night of my final initiation. All secrets were to be revealed then."
"Let me get this straight," Dean began, stopping in the middle of the hallway in disbelief. "You travelled through time to protect something that does you-don't-know-what from a demon that you know nothing about?" Henry turned to look back at Dean, but he didn't answer before he stalked further down the hall towards the main room. Dean threw up his hands. "Good."
"Dude, maybe you should chill out." Alex reached out and put a hand on Dean's chest when he started to move forward. "Why are you so pissed at this guy, huh? He seems like a good man who's just trying to get some answers."
"Why am I pissed?" Dean repeated. "I don't know. Maybe because he abandoned Dad without even saying goodbye. Who the hell does that to their kid?"
"How do you know he chose to do that?" the young angel retorted, wings rising in frustration. "I don't know about you, but to me he doesn't seem like a guy who would just leave his family without a good reason. Maybe he never makes it back, huh? Maybe it wasn't his fault."
A hand on her shoulder had her falling silent, and she spun around and followed Sam after his grandfather. He had found his way into the main store room, and Alex took a moment to take in the grimy walls. Trashy rock played through the speakers, and Alex frowned at the shady establishment. "Hand me your walkie-talkie," Henry requested, hand held out to Sam who stood on the man's right. He didn't turn around to look at his grandson, too busy studying the room around him, and Sam and Alex exchanged confused looks.
"You mean my phone?" Sam finally asked as he reached into his pocket.
"Even better." Henry's fingers closed around the sleek black device Sam held out and raised it to his mouth. "Operator, I need Delta 457."
Dean's voice was flat as he joined them in the room. "Who are you not calling?"
"Our emergency number."
"Yeah, not anymore." Dean snatched the phone out of his grandfather's hands and gave it back to Sam with a shake of his head.
"They can't all be gone." Henry looked around the decrepit store, insistent disbelief lining his voice. "There must be another elder out there who can help us figure out how to stop Abaddon and what to do with the box."
Alex looked up at Sam with a small shrug, unsure if she could help in any way, but Dean seemed to have an idea. "Hey, uh, hi." He moved forward with a warm grin towards the goth-like lady who was slouched over the front counter. "Can we hijack your computer for a hot second?"
The lady studied Dean for a second, and Alex heard Henry scoff. "Like you could fit a computer in this room."
"Yeah, well, welcome to the twenty-first century," Alex retorted as the woman shrugged and spun her thin laptop towards the hunters. "We also have microwaveable burritos and a black president." She leaned against the counter as Sam pulled the laptop towards him.
"Uh … alright." The hunter began before Henry could think of anything to respond with. "Um … give me a name — anybody who, uh, might have been there that night. One of the elders."
"Uh, Ackers, David. Larry Ganem," Henry began, and Alex watched as Sam typed the names into the search bar. "Ted —"
"Okay, here it is." Sam clicked on a link to an old article before Henry could even finish the third name. "Um, August 12, 1958. A tragic fire at a gentleman's club. Uh, 242 Gaines Street."
"This is 242 Gaines Street," Henry added, and Alex nodded in agreement as she remembered the painted numbers by the door. "But there was no fire."
"Well, the newspaper says there was," the young angel retorted as she read the article's headline. Tragic Fire at Gentleman's Club, 4 Dead. "Let's see. Larry Ganem, David Ackers, Ted Bowen, and Albert Magnus all dead."
"Albert Magnus," Henry repeated, and Alex nodded.
"Friend of yours?" Dean asked, and Henry looked over at his grandson.
"Even better," he promised before he turned back to Sam. "Where are they buried?"
"Uh, give me a second." Keys clicked as Sam worked, and less than a minute later he looked up. "All four are buried at a cemetery not far from here."
"Good." Henry turned and walked briskly out of the room, and with a shrug, the other three had no choice but to follow.
...
They arrived at the cemetery a little after 6pm, but thanks to the winter season, the sun was already far below the horizon, clothing the graveyard in heavy darkness. Alex pulled the sleeves of her jacket down further over her hands as Dean parked the Impala and all four got out. Two clicks of flashlights had the landscape bathed in a harsh yellow glow as the two Winchesters took the lead, and Alex trailed close behind Henry, grace flicking out to search for any sign of danger. It wasn't long before they came upon a group of four headstones tucked away from the rest. Despite the darting flashlight beams, Alex could easily make out the names. "This is them."
Henry moved past her, and the angel sidestepped to give him space. "These were my friends," he began, voice solemn, "my mentors, our last defense against the Abbadons of the world."
"Here's your buddy Albert Magnus." Dean's flashlight beam came to rest on the central tombstone."
"Albertus Magnus," Henry corrected. "He was hardly a buddy. He was the greatest alchemist of the Middle Ages."
Alex frowned in confusion. "Uh … okay so why exactly is he buried here?"
"He's not. His was the alias we'd use when going incognito," he informed them. "I believe someone planted his name in that article so that if a Man of Letters came looking for answers, he'd know something was amiss."
"So someone wanted you to come to this grave."
"The question is why," Henry finished, and Alex turned her eyes to the gravestone. A symbol was carved below the name, and she moved forward to run her fingers over the carving.
"An unicursal hexagram," she announced as she looked back up at the hunters.
"An aquarian star," Henry agreed. "Our crest, representing great magic and power. They say it stood at the gates of Atlantis itself."
"Huh." Sam moved forward, flashlight darting over the four stone markers. "It's on all the tombstones except this one — uh, Larry Ganem."
He stepped back as Henry knelt down beside his and although Alex recognized the symbol immediately, she let Henry speak first. "The Haitian symbol for speaking to the dead. This is a message." He rose to his feet and turned to face his grandsons. "You boys ever exhume a body?"
Alex barely held back an amused snort at Dean's expression, and she shoved her hands into her pockets. "I'll go get the shovels," she volunteered. "Give me five seconds." her wings carried her up into the cold air and she swooped down to land beside the Impala. Her grace twisted the lock and pins, and the trunk popped open with a small click. The young angel dug through the mess of duffle bags and random items until her fingers closed about the handles of the two collapsible shovels. One quick movement closed and locked the trunk behind her, and then she was back beside the Winchesters. "Here."
"So you're an angel, huh?" Henry asked as the brothers unfolded their shovels and broke ground. "I thought you stayed in heaven. Why are you working with two hunters?"
Alex shrugged, eyes turning to Sam and Dean as they slowly began their excavation. "It's a really long story that happens to involve the devil, but the long and short of it is heaven's unstable right now, and my mate in trouble. I wasn't created an angel," she explained when she saw the confusion that sat upon Henry's face. "I was human. All enaiish — female angels, basically — we were human first."
"That's … unusual," the Winchester said after a second or two. "I wasn't aware angels were capable of reproduction."
"Well, they need a human vessel. Apparently our heavenly Father up above didn't think they would need to, so he didn't create any angels capable of that. That's kind of something they had to figure out how to do that after he left. Yeah it's a little crude, but I guess it's necessary."
...
It wasn't long before a metal shovel hit something other than dirt, and Alex approached the edge of the ground to see the brothers clear away the last of the soil from the coffin lid. "Here," she offered, sliding down into the pit besides Sam. "I got the lid." She gripped it tightly and pulled, lifting it up and tipping it against the dirt wall so the brothers could peer at the skeleton inside. "Anything?"
"Hey, uh, was Larry a World War One vet?" she heard Dean ask.
"No."
"Well, then, who's the stiff?"
"No idea." Henry crouched down at the edge of the grave, and Alex shifted so she could see the remains as Sam knelt down and reached out to study a metal pin attached to the skeleton's clothing.
"Captain Thomas J Carey III," he read. "That mean anything to you?"
Henry shook his head, and Alex frowned. "Well, whoever put this guy here did so for a reason, and I'm willing to bet that that someone was Larry, huh?"
"So, what, maybe he, uh, survives the attack and hides out with this guy's identity?" Sam suggested, straightening back up, and with a look at Dean, Alex let the coffin lid fall back down over the remains.
Henry nodded in agreement with Sam's theory and stood up. "Okay, what are we waiting for then?" He walked out of sight as he added, "Cover this up. Let's be on our way."
Sam and Dean exchanged looks once again, and Dean shook his head as Alex shrugged. "Clearly intellectuals such as him don't get their hands dirty," she joked as she climbed out of the grave. "Leave it to the brutish hunters. But hey, the important thing is that your grandfather is pretty damn hot." She paused, dusting off the knees of her jeans as she thought. "Is that weird? Out loud it sounds a little weird." Neither Sam nor Dean answered as they pulled themselves out of the pit, and Alex shrugged as she picked up one of the shovels. "Come on. I'll help you guys fill this in."
...
A passing hour found the four of them inside a motel room twenty miles south. The two hunters were at the table; Sam was flipping through John's journal, and Dean sat beside him on his laptop. Alex couldn't see the screen from where she lay on one of the beds, her own computer laying in front of her with Spotify open. Henry was lying on the couch off to her left, lips pursed tightly in a whistle, although Alex couldn't hear the tune through the pulsing bass in her ears.
"What is that?" she heard Dean ask, and she paused her song to hear him add, "I know that tune."
"As Time Goes By," Henry explained, turning his head to look at Dean. "And I hope so. It's from Casablanca."
"Right," Sam nodded. "Dad use to whistle it from time to time."
A small smile formed across Henry's lips as a memory reached the forefront of his mind. "Your father saw 'Abbott and Costello Meet the Mummy' at the drive-in one night. It scared the beeswax out of him. So I got him this little music box that played that song to help him sleep at night. It worked like a charm."
Sam smile at the story, but Dean acted as if he hadn't even heard. "Wow. It's hard to believe Dad was ever scared of anything," Sam admitted.
Dean just cleared his throat, and Alex turned her attention to him. "Hey, uh, according to county records, Tom Carey lives in Lebanon, Kansas, and is a very happy 127 year old." He closed his laptop as Alex made a curious noise. "I say we get some shuteye, head over there first thing in the morning."
"Wait wait wait. Listen to this." Sam's finger traced a line in his father's journal. "According to Dad, he once tortured a demon that said he made his bones working for Abaddon, who, it turns out, is a Knight of Hell."
"What does that even mean?"
"Knights of Hell are hand-picked by Lucifer himself," Henry explained, something dark settling across his face. "They are of the first-fallen, first-born demons."
"So, very pure, very strong," Sam concluded.
His grandfather nodded as he rose to his feet. "Legend has it that archangels had killed all of them, which as we have witnessed, is not the case."
"Unless she's the last of her kind," Dean suggested.
"I can ask Lucifer," Alex volunteered from where she lay, drawing all attention onto her. "What?" She frowned defensively at the look on Dean's face. "As long as I'm dreaming of him, we may as well use it to our advantage. You said he picked them himself," she added to Henry. "So maybe he'll know how to stop her."
"Dreaming of the devil?" Henry repeated, genuine confusion on his face. "What does that mean? Is that something all angels do?"
"No, just me. And it means exactly what is sounds like." Alex reached out and closed her laptop, tugging her earbuds from her ears. "He's surprisingly cooperative at times. I think it's worth a try." She shrugged and got to her feet, deeming that conversation over.
Henry walked over to stand beside Sam, gaze turned downwards at the journal on the table. "You say that belonged to your father? May I?"
Sam nodded and slid it over towards his grandfather. "It's a hunter's journal," he explained. "I assume Men of Letters — you use journals, too?"
"I intended to," Henry agreed as he picked up John's journal. "I sent away for one the day before my initiation." He turned to the front of it and pulled out what Alex assumed was one of the photographs tucked in the inside cover, and he touched something on the leather. "As a matter of fact, judging by my initials here, this one, I believe."
Dean looked up in slight puzzlement. "That was yours?"
"It must have arrived after …" Henry's face darkened, and he looked up at Sam and Dean. "I'm beginning to gather I don't make it back from this time, do I?"
Sam's shoulders fell in sympathy. "We don't know for sure," he admitted. "All we do know is that Dad never saw you again."
"What did he think happened to me?"
"He thought you ran out on him," Dean explained, and Alex's wings twitched as the harshness that lay beneath his tone.
"John was a legacy." Henry looked back down at the journal, something heavy and somber in his gaze. "I was supposed to teach him the way of the Letters."
Dean huffed. "Well, he had to learn things a little differently."
"How?"
"The hard way. Surviving a lonely childhood, a stinking war … only to get married and have his wife taken by a demon … and later killed by one himself." Dean's voice grew angry as he spoke, green eyes flashing darkly. "The man got a bum rap around every turn, but you know what? He kept going. And in the end, he did a hell of a lot more good than he did bad."
Alex rose to her feet, slipping through the room and towards the bathroom; this didn't seem like a conversation she needed to be a part of. She heard Dean's angry voice, followed by the slamming of a door. The door opened and closed again a few seconds later, and then the young angel's grace told her that Henry was alone.
She waited a minute, and then two, before she stepped back into the main room. Henry was seated at the table, slowly flipping through John's journal. "Sorry about those two," she apologized quietly, moving to put her hands on the back of a chair across from the man. "They … they've been through a lot."
"I'm going to fix this." Henry didn't look up from the book in front of him, and although his voice was quiet, it was heavy with emotion. "I don't know how, but I'm going to fix it." He looked up at Alex, and the angel was surprised by the pain in his eyes. "Do you have any idea what that's like? Being separated from your child? You would give anything to make it right."
The young angel looked away. "I … had a son," she admitted. "And I have a mate. Both … both of them are gone, and … you're right. You would give anything, wouldn't you?" She tapped the wooden backing of the chair. "Henry?" She paused when she had the Man of Letters' attention, and she looked up into his face. "My mate, he once told me that all roads lead to the same destination. So just … be careful, okay? Whatever you do, be careful." She tapped on the chair one more time before she stepped away. "I'm going to bed. Maybe I'll find a way to stop Abaddon for good."
...
Lucifer was sprawled out across the couch when Alex opened her eyes, and from where she stood, all she could see was a large, crimson wing that was stretched out over the back of the sofa. 'Hey." Alex circled around to stand in front of the archangel, and he lifted his head in greeting.
"Hello." Lucifer sat up, and Alex dropped down onto the couch when he swung his legs out of the way. Cold lips pressed up against hers for a second or two before the archangel pulled away and shook out his wings so the feathers lay flat. "It's been quite a while since I've seen you," he commented off-handedly.
"It's only been a week," the young angel quipped back, and she rested her hands in her lap. "Uh, how's life been?"
A dry laugh rumbled in the archangel's chest, and Alex smiled to find his mood so amiable. "Well … it's been hell." His wings twitched when his joke caused Alex to hit him on the shoulder. "And you?"
"Working a case. With demons — weird demons. Maybe you can help me?" She shifted closer to the archangel, wings curling forward to brush against his side. "I found this weird demon that not even the demon knife could kill. She calls herself Abaddon."
"Abaddon?" Lucifer's eyes lit up with familiarity and curiosity, and his head tipped as he studied Alex's demeanor. "You mean the Knight of Hell, I assume?"
"Yeah, the Knight of Hell," Alex repeated with a vigorous nod. "I don't … what is a Knight of Hell? I know they have something to do with you."
"More or less, yes." A cold hand took hers, and Alex blinked as the archangel turned his gaze to the far wall. "Knights of Hell aren't typical demons," he began. "Remember when I told you about when I first fell? I wasn't alone. The angels who fell with me weren't as lucky as I; they lost their grace while in hell." His eyes turned back to her, blue eyes darting across her face. "They became demons; very powerful ones. Abaddon was one of the angels who followed me."
"Wait. So the demon Abaddon was an angel?" Alex squinted as she remembered how the demon had felt. "That would explain why her, uh … energy was weird. Okay, how do we kill one? Angel blade?"
"Not the one you have." The hand moved to her arm, the gentle cold seeping into her skin. "You'd need an archangel blade." The couch creaked as Lucifer shifted, and cold lips pressed against her cheek.
Alex squirmed playfully, but she firmly pushed him away. "Focus," she chastised. "I need to know how to kill her. Luce," she admonished when his lips moved back to hers. She put her hands on his chest and pushed, rolling her eyes when the archangel didn't budge. "You're ridiculous."
"Stop talking."
"You know what? Fight me. Luc— ow!" Alex rolled off of the couch with a shriek of teasing protest. "I said 'fight me' not 'bite me,' you asshole!" She kicked the archangel in the leg in retaliation, a mock scowl across her face as she rubbed her bitten shoulder and sat up on the floor. "Work first, play later."
"You're no fun." Lucifer slithered down onto the floor beside her. "You can't kill Abaddon without the Colt or my sword or … never mind." He dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand before he rattled off the rest of his list. "Holy water won't work, but a devil's trap will hold her."
"Okay." Alex reached behind her and tugged mindlessly on a crimson feather. "Well, we already tried the knife, but maybe I could my hands on Gabriel's archangel blade. Henry said the archangels hunted down and killed most of the Knights of Hell —"
"They didn't." Lucifer took the hand that was fingering his feather, and Alex paused in confusion. "But that's not important." The archangel shifted closer. "If you can't kill her, you must trap her."
"How do we keep her trapped long term?" Alex tried to pull her hand free, but when Lucifer didn't let go, she quickly gave up.
Crimson wings folded around her, and the young angel let her own fall down so their feathers brushed together. "You talk too much," Lucifer murmured as his wings drew them closer together. "I told you what you needed to know. Now what I want to know is —"
...
"Hey! Wake up!" Something hard came crashing down on the angel's shoulder, and she jumped, wings flaring out in alarm and fists curling into a ball as she rolled to face whatever it was that attacked her. "Hey hey hey." Hands steadied her, and Alex opened her eyes to see Dean sitting beside her. "Calm down."
"The fuck, dude?" Alex sat up and shook out her rumpled wings, trying to get the glossy feathers to lay flat once again. "I'm gonna kill you."
"It's Henry." Sam was standing beside the bed, a notepad in his hand, and Alex let her glare fade slightly as her grace pulsed through the room. "He's gone."
"Yeah, he is," Alex confirmed with a grumble. "So? The hell did he go?"
"No idea." Sam tossed the notepad onto the bed between Dean and Alex, and the older Winchester scooped it up before the angel could get her hands on it. "He just left a note saying he was going to fix everything."
"Yeah, or screw it all up," Dean muttered. He rose to his feet, stifling a large yawn as he ran a hand through his messy hair. "I swear if he took the damn car …"
Alex watched as the hunter stalked across the room and out the door before she turned to look up at Sam. "He was talking about fixing it all last night," she admitted when Dean was gone. "I … I dunno. I didn't think he was going to actually go off on his own. I did talk with Lucifer though," she added before Sam could comment. "Knights of Hell? They're not demons — well, they are demons, but more importantly they were angels. They were those who fell with Lucifer. Their grace was ripped away and they became essentially human, and from there Hell twisted them into demons. That's why they're so damn powerful."
"So Abaddon was an angel?" Sam's forehead wrinkled at the news, and Alex nodded. "Really?"
"Now we know what Henry meant by 'fix everything'." The motel door slammed as Dean walked back into room with a dark frown. "He broke into the trunk, stole an angel feather. I'm guessing he's gonna whip up another one of those blood spells and Marty McFly himself back to the 1950s."
"To do what?" Sam asked. "Stop Abaddon before she strikes?"
"Or grab Dad and haul ass. Look, point is he's doing it."
"How? He still needs two ingredients for the spell. Unless …" Sam hurried over to the table and sat down, "unless there's some place nearby that sells real hoodoo." He pulled out his laptop and opened it up.
"I'll call Garth." Dean dug into his pocket for his phone, and Alex brushed back her hair into a loose ponytail as she let out a long, loud yawn.
"Hey." Sam's voice had her looking up, and she let out a curious hum at what he was going to say. "It just hit the police wires. One dead at Astro Comics."
"Abaddon?"
"Yeah," Sam agreed with a dark frown. "Has to be."
"Okay, so she's close." Dean hung up his phone and shoved it back into his pocket. "I'll go find Henry. You find Larry. Figure out how to kill this chick. You," he added with a pointed finger at Alex, "Go see if you can find anything useful back at the comic store. Did Lucifer say any helpful?"
Alex nodded, quickly relaying what she had told Sam. "Knights of Hell are fallen angels, they can't be killed with the knife or with a typical angel blade. You need an archangel's blade or something even stronger. Devil's traps will hold her, though, at least for a little while. Maybe Larry will know something. Lebanon's pretty far away, so I can drop you off," she added to Sam before she turned back to Dean. "I'll drop by the crime scene, then I'll take a fly around town, see if I can pick up and stall Abaddon."
...
Alex landed outside the crime scene, wings folding in tightly as she stepped out from the alley and into the view of the police cars. She straightened her dark tie with one hand and rolled her shoulders in her blazer, doing her best to look taller and more professional as she approached the police tape. "Agent Landau," she introduced to the police officer in front of her. "I got a call this morning about a violent murder and am looking into on the possibility that the killer may have crossed state lines." She tucked her ID back into her jacket and stepped under the tape before the officer could utter a word. Her brisk and calm lie must have worked, as no resistance came as she entered the front door of Astro Comics.
"Ma'am? You're not —"
"Agent Landau," Alex repeated, flashing her ID with a quick repetition of her earlier statement. "And you are?"
"Officer Martin Keelin." The policeman glanced behind him at the sheet-covered body, and Alex tipped her head to see past him. "You got her mighty fast, ma'am. She was just discovered about twenty minutes ago."
"We do our best to work quickly and efficiently," the young angel lied as she let her grace stretch out and examine the crime scene. "Truth be told, I was spending the night just a block or two west of here. Pure luck. What have we got here?" she asked, doing her best to draw the attention away from her and back onto the victim.
"Ashlee Deem. She worked the closing shift last night and was found by her coworker this morning." Officer Keelin motioned her after him, and Alex knelt down beside the body and pulled back the bloodied sheet. "If I didn't know any better, I would say those were claws that did that."
Alex only grunted as she studied the bloody gashes in the young woman's throat. "Unilateral lacerations across the trachea," she announced, "cause of death being a combination of a severed windpipe and massive blood loss. How long ago was time of death?"
"Uh, the techs are estimating about eight hours." Officer Keelin shifted behind her, and Alex looked up. "You sure know a lot of that … ya know, technical stuff."
"Well, Officer, that is my job." Alex rose to her feet, nostrils flaring at the slightest trace of sulphur in the air. "And there was no eye-witnesses?"
"None at all. We're going to interrogate the other employees as soon as we can round them up, if you're interested."
The young angel's wings flicked in disinterest, but she kept her voice cordial. "I'll need to speak with my superiors first, of course. If this sounds like a case for the FBI, we'll be in touch. Have a good day." She turned on her heels and exited the building, wings drawing in close and head ducking as she slipped underneath the police tape. Her wings extended once again as soon as she had rounded the alleyway, and then she was in the air.
She worked her way through the state in circles, starting at Astro Comics and slowly working her way outwards and outwards with each passing lap, grace scouring the land below. It searched each building, moving across every human soul, and she pulled to a stop above a small town, fifty miles away, with a curious noise. Two souls resided in a store below, two souls she had come to known rather well. Dean and Henry Winchester. She made a mental note of their location before continuing on, finishing her sweep of Illinois.
Nothing.
With a disappointed shake of her head, Alex returned to the two Winchesters and landed beside Dean. "— by going back an hour before she attacks and making preparations!" Henry was shouting, and Alex drew her wings in tight. She didn't miss the way the Man of Letters started at her sudden appearance, and she looked up at Dean.
"Abaddon's not in the state," she relayed quickly. "I searched every corner, and she's not here. You and Henry are safe for the time being."
A brief touch on her shoulder was Dean's way of thanking her before he turned his head back to his grandfather. "You do know that if you go back and change the past, Sam and I could cease to exist," he snapped angrily, and Alex narrowed her eyes as she saw the blood sigil on the door behind Henry Winchester.
"I'm aware that time is a delicate mistress," he began carefully, "but I'm willing to bet on this being for the best."
Dean took a deep breath, eyes flickering down to Alex, and she nodded, well aware of what he was asking if this were to get out of hand. "Listen," the Winchester began, "I understand that this is not your idea of a happy ending, okay, and that — that you're disappointed that me and Sam are mouth-breathing hunters. But you know what? We stopped the Apocalypse!"
"If this works the way I planned, there will never be an Apocalypse to stop."
Dean's phone rang, and he jumped to answer it. "Sammy?" he asked, voice tense with the present situation.
"You don't understand," Alex began, wings and arms folding outwards in a gesture of harmless amiability. "The angels, they set the entire Apocalypse up. It wasn't something that just happened by chance; each damn step has been planned out by the guys upstairs, okay? If you go back there, there's no promises they'll even let you live long enough to see John. Sam and Dean need to be born, and they'll do anything in their power to keep it that way."
Distrust flashed in Henry's eyes at her words, and his jaw set firmly. "And is that why you're here? To keep me from going back?"
"No — yes — but not like that, man. I just —"
"Abaddon." Dean's cold, flat word had Alex cutting off and turning to look at the hunter in surprise. "Crystal," he added darkly, and then he hung up his phone.
"Abaddon has Sam?" Henry guessed.
"And she wants to trade you and the key for Sam," Alex finished, and when Dean nodded she let out an angry huff, grace snapping through the air. "Dammit. I swear I'm going to kill that bitch, Knight or not."
"If I could just go back, stop all this from happening," Henry pleaded, and Alex turned back to Dean Winchester, unsure what his call was going to be.
"And what if you can't?" he snapped. "I can't take that risk — not with Sam on the hook."
"I can't abandon my son, Dean! Not again!" Henry took a step backwards with a quick shake of his head. "I need to do this I'm sorry." He turned around to face the sigil on the door once more, and it began to glow violently with his words. "Kah-nee-lah poo-gah. Kay-nee-lah … poo —"
Alex swept forward, grace surging into the Man of Letters' head as she cupped the back of his neck, and he crumpled into her arms, immediately unconscious by the sudden wave of power. The angel caught him, staggering under his weight, and Dean was there in a second to steady the both of them. "Well, I'm sorry, too," he muttered as he lifted Henry up over his shoulder. "Thanks, Pip."
"Yeah, no problem. But … what's the plan now?"
...
It was getting dark by the time Henry woke up. They were in the Impala, Dean and Henry in the front, and Alex stretched out in the back. She sat up when she heard Henry stir groggily and let out a groan. "Um … sorry about that," Alex began, leaning forward in her seat. "You're probably going to have a headache for half an hour or so."
Henry grumbled out something that sounded insincere, and Dean looked over at him. "Henry, you need to understand something," the hunter said. "When my dad died, I couldn't save him … no matter how hard I tried. I never want that to happen to Sam. Ever. If there's a chance that I can save him, I'm gonna do it. He's my brother. He's the only real family I got." He glanced into the rearview mirror as he turned the Impala off of the highway.
"So ... what are you thinking?" Henry slowly inquired.
"Can you slow Abaddon down?" Dean asked, and Alex flicked her wings as she leaned over the seat. "Because if you can, we can do the rest."
"Something with a devil's trap," Alex added. "According to Lucifer, that seems to be one of the few things that'll hold her still long enough for us to do anything."
There was a pause as the Man of Letters thought. "I have an idea," he finally decided. "I'm going to need a bullet."
"Uh, here." Alex pulled her Colt out of her duffle bag that lay on the Impala floor and pushed out the magazine. A flick of her thumb had a bullet popping into her palm, and she handed it to Henry. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to carve a devil's trap into this bullet." Henry pulled a small leather package out of his jacket pocket and from that removed a small, metal tool. "A small trick I learned from my mentor. It'll incapacitate any demon unlucky enough to be shot with it." He looked over at Dean. "How long until we reach the place where Abaddon is holding Sam?"
"Half an hour or so. How much time do you need?"
"That should be plenty."
"Okay, but you know you're gonna have to get close, right?" Dean looked over at his grandfather, but Henry didn't raise his head. "And 'close' means it could get ugly."
"I know," the Man of Letters quietly agreed. "But you do that for blood."
...
Alex stared up at the large abandoned plant, wings drawn in closely as she took in the dark, powerful sigils on the dusty and broken windows. "She's got the place warded," she announced as Henry tucked her gun in his pocket and allowed Dean to handcuff his hands behind his back. "I can get in, but I'm basically powerless. You sure you still want me to come with?"
Dean nodded. "We're better off with you," he decided as he stepped away from his grandfather. "How you feeling? Ready?"
"Yes. Let's do this." Henry stepped forward, and Alex rolled her shoulders back as Dean shoved through the front door and down the hall. "Don't do this, Dean," the Man of Letters warned as they entered a large, empty room, falling to their well-rehearsed lies.
"Too late for that now," Dean snapped back, and Alex followed them through the set of double doors to see Abaddon and Sam, whose hands were bound, standing in the center of the large room. The wardings pressed down upon her, forcing her grace to coil deep within, and she growled at the sight of the demon.
"That's the problem with you hunters!" Henry spat. "You're all short-sighted."
"Yeah, at least we're not extinct. Abaddon!" Dean raised his voice as he addressed the Knight of Hell, and he held up the old, wooden box with the aquarian star carved on the cover. "I'll send Henry here over with the box. You do the same with Sam. No tricks." He put the box into Henry's jacket pocket, and Alex watched how Abaddon's eyes followed his every movement.
"My only interest is Henry and the key," she promised. "You three are free to go."
Dean gave Henry a shove, but when the man refused to move, Dean drew his gun threateningly. Alex immediately reached out to stop him, not wanting the Winchester to go too far. "You can do this standing, or you can do it crawling," he threatened. "Your call."
The young angel's wings folded downwards as the man slowly began to move forward, and Sam did the same, passing his grandfather in the middle of the room and exchanging three, quiet words. "Henry, I'm sorry."
"Save it." Henry continued slowly forward, and Sam hurried to stand at his brother's side.
"Don't do this, Dean," the youngest Winchester whispered as Dean pulled out his knife and cut away Sam's restraints. "This is a bad idea."
"Shut your mouth," Dean whispered as Henry finally reached Abaddon's side. "Come on." He pushed Sam ahead of him, and the three hunters bolted towards the door. But Alex suddenly felt it push past them, that dark, twisted energy that could only be from an equally dark and twisted creature, and the metal doors swung shut with a heavy clang. Dean slid to a stop, but Alex knew before they even tried the handle that it was locked. "We had a deal!" Dean snapped, spinning around to face Abaddon with a dark scowl.
The Knight let out a laugh, her eyes flashing with malicious humor. "Surprise," she chuckled. "I lied." She turned on Henry and shoved her hand through his chest, and Alex flinched at the sound of tearing flesh and gurgling blood.
"Henry!" Sam rushed forward, but then Alex was at his side, holding him back.
"Stop it!" Alex yelled, and she fought desperately against the wardings, but not even Lucifer's grace could penetrate the heavy sigils. It bubbled up inside her, frustration forcing her eyes to glow, and Abaddon withdrew her hand from Henry's stomach in interest.
Blood dripped from the Man of Letter's mouth, but somehow through the blood and the pain he managed to speak. "You're not the only one who lied." Henrgy moved fast, grabbing the demon and sticking the barrel of Alex's gun beneath her chin. The resounding gunshot echoed through the room as the bullet was fired into Abaddon's skull, which momentarily glowed with a bright, orange light as the bullet lodged itself into her brain.
The demon's eyes went wide, but when it didn't kill her, she shook her head. "Whoo! What a blast. Now give me the box," she demanded, eyes turning darkly to Henry. She reached into his jacket pocket where Dean had placed the Men of Letters box, but what she drew out wasn't the box. The Knight of Hell threw the deck of playing cards onto the ground with a scream, and they scattered across the concrete. "Where is it?!" she screeched, and Alex flared her wings out as energy spiraled through the air, sending objects crashing to the ground and causing the lights to spark violently. The Knight took a deep breath, doing her best to calm herself before she fixed the hunters with a dark, hungry glare. "Okay. We can do this the hard way."
She twisted and grabbed Henry by the chin, mouth opening as she attempted to flee her current vessel and possess the man in front of her, but nothing happened. The demon threw Henry to the ground, and Alex reached out to try and stop Sam, but he slipped past her to pull Henry out of the way. Abaddon tried to step towards Alex, but her feet refused to move. The demon's eyes flashed black, mouth stretching open in an ear-piercing scream, and the lights shattered in a shower of sparks. "Why am I stuck?"
"Little trick up Henry's sleeve." Alex's voice was scathing as she stalked up to stand in front of the demon, and she let Lucifer's grace flare up, eyes glowing orange. "Recognize it?" she growled when something flashed within the demon's eyes. "Lucifer told me all about you. Told me how to kill you, too."
"But you haven't killed me," Abaddon sneered back.
"No, but you'll wish we did." Dean stalked up to Alex's side, his machete swinging in his hands. The angel stepped back when he swung it, and Abaddon's head toppled to the floor. "The demon trap in your noggin is gonna keep you from smoking out," he told her. "We're gonna cut you into little steaks and bury each strip under cement."
"My idea," Alex added, a hint of pride lining her voice. "You might not be dead, but you're sure as hell gonna wish you were." She watched the demon's headless body toppled to the ground, and her attention was drawn down to Henry. "Hey." She dropped to her knees in front of him, hand going out to press against Sam's that covered the large wound. "Get him outside," she ordered. "I can't help him with all these wardings."
"No." Henry reached out to stop the Winchesters from moving him, and Dean knelt down at his grandfather's side. "I … it's too late." His gaze slid past his grandson and onto Abaddon's body. "We did it."
"No, you did it," Dean corrected gently. "For a bookworm, that wasn't bad, Henry."
A warm smile crept across Henry's face. "I'm sorry I judged you two for being hunters. I should have known better."
Sam frowned. "About?"
"You're also Winchesters. As long as we're alive, there's always hope." The Man of Letters coughed as Sam and Dean exchanged quiet looks, and Alex's grace fought against the wardings, but to no avail. "I didn't know my son as a man, but knowing you two …" He reached out, taking Sam and Dean's hand in his. "I know I would have been proud of him."
His breathing slowed and his heart stopped, and out of the corner of her eye Alex saw the dark, flitting shape of a reaper. The light faded from Henry Winchester's eyes, and the young angel reached out to close his eyelids. "His soul's going to heaven," she murmured as the reaper faded away. "He's at peace now."
Sam looked down into his hand, and Alex saw the wooden box resting in his palm. The two brothers' eyes met, silent words passing in mere seconds, and the young angel reluctantly rose to her feet.
"I'll take care of Abaddon," she decided, looking down at the headless corpse. "You … you should take care of Henry." She nudged the head with her feet, watching in dark satisfaction as it rolled away.
She heard Sam and Dean stand behind her, and she rolled her shoulders back. "You sure?" Dean asked. "You don't want to come?"
"I'll take care of Abaddon," Alex repeated, voice firm. "Then I … I need to see if I can find Castiel." She turned, eyes flitting across the faces of Sam and Dean before they fell onto Henry. "I'll … catch up with you later."
...
Alex landed in the back of the Impala, wings drawing in close to fit inside the car. "Hey," she announced, eyes turned out towards the rising sun. "How are you guys doing?"
"Fine," came Sam's quiet reply. "Uh, did you find Cas?"
"No." Alex's face darkened as she shifted forward on her seat. "I searched every state for him, but he's not here, and he didn't answer any of my prayers, so, I mean, unless he's in Australia or something like that …" She trailed off with a small shake of her head. "I'm worried that Naomi got a hold of him, guys. I …" Alex's shoulders dropped, unsure what else to say on the matter. "Well, either way, Abaddon's taken care of. Dismembered in concrete in the back of that factory. She won't be topside any time soon. Where are we going?" she inquired as Dean turned the car off of the main road.
"Larry Ganem gave me coordinates before he died," Sam explained. "He said the box contains a key to the largest collection of Men of Letters archives in the nation. We're going there."
"Is that it?" Alex pointed out the window towards an old, rundown warehouse as Dean veered onto a dirt road. "It looks like no one's been there in decades." She frowned at the broken windows and dust-stained glass. "How do we get in?"
Dean parked the car when the road ended in a sharp dirt hill, and Alex rolled out of the backseat, eyes turning to a short, downwards staircase that ended at a heavy metal door in the hillside. The young angel followed the hunters towards the stairs, her shoes sending a pebble skittering down towards the door. "When's the last time somebody was in this place?" Dean wondered aloud.
His brother shook his head, unsure. "Sixty-five, maybe seventy years ago," he estimated as Dean slowly opened Henry's wooden box and removed the cast-iron key. He lead the way down the stairs, Alex at the rear, and unlocked the heavy door.
The young angel pushed past Sam as he followed his brother through the door, and she leaned over the iron rails to look down into the dark room below. "Whoa," she breathed out as the hunters' flashlights darted over the ancient communication equipment below. "Look at this," she heard Sam say as Dean cursed in amazement under his breath. "Ham radio, telegraph, switchboard. This was their nerve center."
"Henry did say that they ran dispatch on their own team of hunters," Dean agreed, and Alex slipped past Sam on her right and hurried down the metal stairs to stand in the first room. She heard him cross to the other side of the catwalk. "Wow," he continued. "Halfway through their coffee and game of chess — looks like whoever was manning the hub left quick."
"On the alarm call that ended the Men of Letters," Sam concluded.
"Is there a fuse box up there?" Alex called. "Because holy damn, guys — you really need to see this." She reached out and ran her fingers over the glass covering of the table beside her, and even in the dark she could make out the color-coded map of the world. "This place is … amazing."
She heard the sparks when a switch was pulled, and lights flickered on as footsteps echoed on the stairs. Sam stopped beside her as the lights in the first room turned on, revealing the ancient equipment line against stone walls. In front of them lay another room, still too dark for the human eye to see, but Alex could make out a line of tables stretching far into the back. A second switch and a second spark had the rest of the building bathed in light.
"Son of a bitch," Sam breathed as Dean joined them, and Alex moved forward, feet carrying her across the concrete floor and up the four stairs to stand in the library. "Whoa," she breathed as she took in the stone walls lined with bookshelves and archives, at the line of tables and chairs on the polished wooden floors.
"Sammy, I think we found the Bat Cave." Dean pushed past her, a grin on his face, and Alex's grace snuck out, stretching forward to examine the room.
"There's wardings on these columns," she noticed aloud, pointing to the eight pillars around the room. "Demonic deterrents. This place was a fortress." An immediate glance to her left and her right showed two hallways, and her wings stretched out in a surge of barely-contained excitement. She turned to grin up at the Winchesters. "Come on. I wanna see what else is here!"
She hurried off down the hall to the left which quickly reached a T with another hallway lined with doors. She took a right; the first door on her right was a large shower room; every other door in the hall lead to a bedroom. Bedroom, bedroom — seven in total in that hall. She followed it down until it turned once again to the right; more bedrooms, and in the center a entryway with two staircases; one up one down. "Guys!" she yelled, and the Winchesters appeared in front of her, apparently having taken the other doorway in the library. "Staircase," she announced before pointing back the way they had come. "What's down there?"
"Uh, a kitchen, couple study rooms, and two bedrooms," Dean relayed. "You?"
"Bedrooms and a communal bathroom with showers. Upstairs or down?" The angel didn't wait for an answer before she immediately started climbing the flight of stairs. "I vote up," she called backwards, and she grinned when she heard Dean follow.
The upstairs, while just as large, consisted of only two areas. A staircase that led up to a garage was to the right, full of classic, dusty cars and motorcycles — neither Alex nor the Winchesters could figure out how to get the garage door open — and to the left lay another large room with a polished wooden floor. "Dude. We have a fucking basketball court." Alex grinned as she looked around the gym; a basketball hoop was mounted on the far wall, and in the corner back by the stairs was a sparring mat and equipment.
"Looks like the Men of Letters weren't just bookworms," Dean quipped as he hurried over to the display stands with wooden swords and a variety of other weapons. "This is so cool."
Alex picked up a basketball; it was flat. "We should move in. I-I mean, there's bedrooms downstairs, a kitchen — what else do we need? W-We — this can be our Bat Cave, dude." She tried to dribble, but it landed with a loud thud. "This can be our home."
"This is nice." Sam's voice sounded from the doorway, and Alex grinned over at him. "I, uh — there's not a lot downstairs. A lot of locked doors, couple store rooms, and a small firing range still stocked with guns. Find anything cool up here?"
"A garage and this awesome place." Alex bounded across the floor to stand in front of the tall hunter. "Sam, can we please stay here? I-I mean — just look at it. One night," she begged when Sam and Dean exchanged looks over her shoulder. "It's free, it's fucking awesome — one night."
"We are Legacies," Sam agreed. "It only seems fair."
"You had me at guns." A heavy hand landed on Alex's shoulder, and she looked up at Dean in surprise. "One night test run, then we see how we like it." The hand disappeared, and Alex took Sam's hand as she tugged him towards the door.
"Come on," she insisted. "Dibs on the room next to yours." Boots thudded on the concrete steps as she led the way back down the stairs and through the bunker. "Oh God, I can't wait to sleep in a bed where people haven't had sex."
...
The ceiling was concrete. A light, smooth concrete with darker flecks speckled across; the florescent light that caught on them was captivating. The walls were stone as well, although the wall to her left was brick, each stone a varying shade of red. It was a nice room, even if the floors were bare concrete; the bed was nice, even if the sheets were decades old. The wooden furniture, the incandescent lamp, it was all … nice.
The only problem was that she was alone.
Alex's wings draped over the sides of the bed as her grace stretched down the halls. Sam was already up and in the library — she could feel him moving around with unfettered excitement. Dean was moving more slowly, and Alex could hear him walking down the hall away from the shower room. She rested her hands on her stomach, fingertips drawing mindless patterns on the smooth skin. She had spent the night staring up at that ceiling, connecting every fleck to its neighbor and seeking out every possible design. She liked the designs that resembled animals the best. A dolphin, a lion. One in the left-hand corner that vaguely resembled an eagle with its wings outstretched.
The angel reluctantly rolled off of bed and left her room, following the hallway right and up into the library where the Winchesters had gathered. "—water pressure in the Letter's shower room is marvelous," Dean was saying, and Alex tipped her head to see that he was clothed in a thick, dark grey robe.
Sam didn't seem to notice. "Yeah," he agreed, leaning over the middle wooden table, which was cluttered with books and papers. "I still can't figure out how we even have water. Or electricity." He turned around and walked over to one of the bookcases, and Dean turned his attention to what Sam was looking at.
"Yep, well, I am putting that under the 'ain't broke' column," he decided with a uninterested sweep of his eyes over Sam's research. "Listen, little brother, let's not go all geek on this stuff, okay?"
Sam turned around, confusion causing his face to scrunch. "Geek?" he repeated, a book in his hand.
"Yeah," Dean agreed as Sam walked back towards him, and he moved over towards where his brother had been. Alex watched as his attention turned to a polished scimitar that was displayed on a wooden stand. "Yeah," he repeated, "I mean, don't — don't get me wrong." He lifted the sword up, one hand on the hilt and the other supporting the bade. "This stuff is awesome, and it looks like they ran a real tight outfit here, but I'm just saying, you know, don't, uh, don't think that they know some big secrets they don't know."
"I bet they know a lot of big secrets," Alex retorted, sliding into one of the wooden chairs across from Sam's work as she watched Dean extend the curved sword before swinging it downwards in a careful, deliberate arch. "They were a secret society, after all."
Dean immediately straightened up when he realized that she was watching him, and he blinked innocently when Sam turned around. "Which means they made up crap and wore fezzes and sashes and swung around scimitars," he retorted sharply, looking down at the weapon so he could run his thumb across the lower blade. "I bet they didn't even sharp—" He cut off with a short breath, and Alex smirked as he clamped his pointer finger down over his thumb. "That's very sharp," he corrected, and placed the sword back onto its stand before he applied pressure to the cut.
"Well it is a sword," the young angel drawled, and she pulled one of Sam's books closer so she could examine the ancient and intricate sketches. "Listen, man, secret society or not, they have a lot of useful and important stuff."
"Right!" Sam agreed. "Dean, look, I think we might have something here — something that can help us, help humanity. Henry certainly thought so. I mean, you know damn well we could use a break," he added to his brother. "What if we finally got one?" He held Dean's gaze until his brother looked away, and Sam nodded. "Are you gonna take off the dead-guy robe?" he eventually asked.
Dean looked down at his apparel, a defensive frown growing across his face. "I like this robe," he muttered. "It's comfy." He looked back up at Alex and his brother. "Fine," he relented. "Fine. You … do your geeky … kinky thing, and I'm going to go get breakfast, okay? It turns out none of the fifty-year old grub in the fridges kept." He looked down at his bleeding thumb with another deep-set frown, and then with one last glance over at Sam's mess of papers, he left.
"Think he's hungry-grumpy or insecure-because-something's-changed-grumpy?" Alex mused when the hunter was out of earshot, and she smiled at Sam's snort of amusement. "Because I think it could go either way on this one."
"Dean's fine." Sam returned to the bookcase with a dismissive shake of his head. "I, uh, think he's a little nervous about the idea of actually settling down."
"I think it'll do him some good." Alex flipped through the book, interest peaking when she read the title of the next chapter. "The symbiotic relationship between rougarous and their dehumanized counterparts," she read. "Wow. Bobby would have loved this place. I bet there's stuff in here not even he knew."
"It's like everything anyone ever knew about this stuff is here under one roof." Sam slid into the chair across from her, and Alex looked up at the sound of footsteps on metal stairs to see Dean making his way up towards the exit. "I mean, think of what we could use this for — how much good we can do."
Alex turned her gaze upwards at the smooth stone ceilings, eyes flickering over the stone pillars that held it high above their heads, and she nodded, fingers drumming definitively on the polished table."I think …" The young angel trailed off, not sure what it was she was trying to say. "I'm going to go unpack," she finally said, silently rising to her feet. "I think I'm going to like it here."
