Song Remains the Same
Chapter 14 / It's a Terrible Life
"You took away my world."
- Fastball
"I see your giant snickers bar and raise you a cup of room temperature hospital jello," Dean said, plunking the aforementioned item down on his bedside tray.
"Dangerous stakes, Winchester. You sure?" Alex asked, feigning deadly seriousness as she stared at him over her cards.
"Oh yeah," he replied in a low voice, matching her theatrics with a challenging eyebrow shrug. "I'm sure. Hit me."
She laid down her hand with a triumphant smirk and he grimaced as she announced, "Full house."
"Dammit," Dean sighed, throwing down his hand in disappointment. "Three of a kind. You win this round, Pipsqueak."
"Ah... victory..." Alex said with a note of comic uncertainty. She took the cup of Jello and squinted at the wiggly red substance—her hard earned prize—as Dean sighed restlessly and settled back against the pillows of his bed, half-sitting.
"I am so damn ready to get outta here," he said, sounding mostly exasperated but a little forlorn, too.
Alex glanced at him sympathetically. It had been about a week and a half that he'd been here at the hospital. "Well, the doc said if all the tests came back normal today we can leave tomorrow," she reminded him. He rolled his eyes. "One more day. We got this," she said, chuckling a little as she picked up the playing cards and began to shuffle them. "Another game?"
Dean shook his head. "Nah, I'm poker-ed out."
Alex stopped shuffling for a second. "Okay, who are you and what did you do with Dean?" She joked, receiving a glancing smile from her brother. Honestly, she was tired of poker too. There had been lots of poker, blackjack, and bad daytime TV the past week or so. But there'd been sleep which was nice. She'd been there almost every day and night—bringing in food from fast food places, fussing over him, and just keeping him company. She would leave when visiting hours were over, then sneak back in at night, sleeping in the chair beside him. After his breakdown the first night there, Alex had a deep instinct that he shouldn't be alone; that he needed her there, even if it was just her physical presence. That, and she didn't want to be alone, either. They'd always been close to each other like that their whole life, anyway. Sam too, once.
They hadn't brought up any of it again—not the apocalypse crap, not Alastair, not Castiel, not Dean's feelings. She knew, sooner or later, she'd have to tell him what really happened to Alastair. He wasn't going to like it. As if reading her mind, Dean cleared his throat. "So, heard from Sammy today?"
Alex pursed her lips to the side, her good mood fading. She stuck the shuffled cards back in their box roughly. "Called earlier and said he's on his way back." She felt sour recalling how their brother had left almost a week ago on a whim. Bobby had come to visit Dean, mentioned he was headed to Rapid City next to take care of a ghost, and Sam had all but jumped at the opportunity. In Alex's eyes, leaving when Dean needed him most. She still felt rubbed-wrong by it.
"Why didn't you go with him, again?" Dean asked. "I'm sure they could have used your help. And at least you wouldn't be stuck here."
"Those two didn't need help with one little vengeful spirit," Alex said, trying to sound lighter than she felt. She sounded false even to herself. "And I wasn't going to leave you to be bored all by yourself."
Dean just tilted his head to the side, scrutinizing her. "Okay, Al. What aren't you telling me?"
Dammit. He'd been off the pain killers for a couple days now and was getting his clarity back. She huffed and looked down, found out—she guessed it was time to come clean. She shrugged, reluctant. "Sam got mad at me because I wouldn't go with him. But, I wasn't gonna leave you, Dean. Not now. Not after…" she trailed off, thinking better of actually bringing it up. "And then he and I… we had another fight, he said I was being selfish, that you're my favorite, he couldn't be around me… blah, blah, blah, same old crap."
Dean gave her a disappointed look. "Fighting? Again? Why didn't you tell me that like six days ago when it happened?"
Alex shrugged again, guiltily. "Didn't wanna upset you while you were still recovering."
"Oh come on, I'm fine," he said, glaring at the insinuation that he was too weak to handle some bad news.
"Internal bleeding and severe head trauma aren't fine," Alex retorted, receiving a dirty look. She glanced at him, realizing now was the time. She swallowed apprehensively. "But, since you are mostly recovered… there is something else I need to tell you."
Dean got a suspicious look on his face at the tone of her voice, and Alex let out a big breath, wishing she could save Dean the oncoming confusion and pain. "So, Ruby's knife? It didn't work on Alastair. Didn't affect him at all."
Dean was puzzled, and Alex could see the wheels of his mind turning. He knew Alastair was dead, but they hadn't exactly told him the details. "Then how…" he trailed off, and then his expression went cold in understanding. "No. Not Sam...?" he asked softly.
"Yeah," Alex confirmed, her voice full of the sadness and confusion she felt.
"But—but he could barely exorcise Samhain a couple months ago," Dean protested, still confused.
"I know," Alex said, remembering the scene with distaste. "I don't know how he did it. All I know is I saw him do it. He did it so easily too, Dean. Like it was a walk in the freaking park. Like he's been… practicing, or… I dunno." She threw her hands up slightly in frustration.
"So, there's something he is not telling us," Dean surmised grimly.
"I get the feeling there's a lot of things he's not telling us," Alex replied. There was a sad, heavy silence, and Dean, suddenly looking tired and haggard, rubbed his forehead.
"You shouldn't have let him go by himself up there with Bobby. Dammit, Alex. He could have finished with the job days ago for all we know, and be with Ruby, or... who knows?" His sadness was escalating into anger. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
She raised her eyebrows at him. "Look at the heart rate monitor. Your blood pressure just went up like twenty points," she said, being totally reasonable, but still getting a look of annoyance from her brother. "I did call Bobby, after Sam called today. To make sure Sam was telling the truth. To make sure he'd actually been with Bobby the whole time," Alex said, getting Dean's attention. "Bobby confirmed."
Dean looked mildly corrected then shook his head vaguely. "Sad that we're at a place where we have to do that crap," Dean commented emptily, then glanced around the room unhappily. "When we get out of here… I'm halfway tempted to go to Timbuktu. Where Ruby can't get to Sam, where the damn angels can't get us. Surround us with hex bags, good beer, cheap burgers... watch the world go to shit and stop worrying about it being our fault." Alex said nothing, just watched her brother with complete understanding of what he was feeling.
"I'm tired of it," he said, growing quiet. "All of it. I just want..." he trailed off, his expression strange and lost. "I don't know what I want." He looked down into his lap, and Alex could see how burdened he felt. He shook his head. "Just not this."
Three Weeks Later
Alex Remington woke up to her cell phone alarm ringing as it usually did at six o'clock in the morning. She swung her feet over the edge of the bed and pushed off into another day of her life. She spent the first few minutes of her morning meditating and practicing Yoga, as she did every day. After showering and drying her hair, she paged through her closet, picking a pencil skirt, cherry red flats, and gray cardigan over a pressed white blouse. She applied her makeup—foundation, mascara, eye liner, gloss—then combed serum into her hair and straight ironed it, sweeping it into a low pony tail, completing the look with a thin headband. She looked herself over in the mirror—she looked polished and professional, as usual. Still, something looked off and she couldn't figure out what it was. She felt a faint sense of frustration and distaste, but couldn't figure out why. Chalking it up to fatigue, she went to the kitchenette of her apartment and made a cup of tea, had whole grain toast and an organic banana, did a little research for her paper that was due on Thursday, and then it was time to leave for work.
The office was only a few blocks from her apartment, so she walked, keeping a brisk pace in the early morning chill. She looked up at the towering structure of Sandover Bridge and Iron as she arrived. It was hard to believe she worked here now. She'd been hired three weeks ago, and before that had worked at a consulting firm, where work had been…. well, it was a blur now. She could barely remember what she did there, and she frowned. She made a mental note that she needed to start taking a multivitamin. A person her age shouldn't have so many problems with remembering things that happened three weeks ago, and it seemed like she was having problems remembering things a lot lately.
She rode the elevator up with a bunch of other business people, including one guy who was a little taller than her. He was dressed nicely, with short brown hair and handsome features, bright green eyes. For some reason, she instantly decided he was a douche bag. He smiled politely at her, and she returned it, even while mentally, she was telling him to screw off, and that his face was stupid. Men that good looking were always jerks in her experience. She hopped off on her floor—technical support, and entered the reception area. Her domain. She set her things down on her desk and took her seat, switching on her computer and getting her earpiece out of the drawer. Employees were filing in now, dressed in the pale yellow polo uniform shirts. She was glad she got to wear what she wanted—fashion was basically her life.
The computer chimed, finished turning on, and she smiled at the desktop picture of fluffy white kittens playing with each other. She loved cats. She looked at the picture a little longer, her smile fading, a weird sensation in the pit of her stomach. She loved cats... didn't she? Didn't she love cats?
"Good morning, Alex!" Came a familiar voice, and Alex looked up.
"Oh, hi Sam!" Alex greeted, smiling at the latest arrival. Sam Wesson, who had been hired at the same time as her. They'd hit it off in the two day training and had discovered they both loved the Red Hot Chili Peppers, hiking, and karaoke.
"How good was 24 last night?" Sam asked, and Alex's eyes went wide.
"So good, right?! Oh my god." Alex grinned at him. "Jack Bauer is the man."
Sam chuckled, and took one of the M&Ms she kept in a bowl, popped it into his mouth. "See you at lunch?" He asked.
Alex was putting on her earpiece and flashing him a smile. "I'll be there."
With another smile, Sam left, heading back to his cubicle. She watched him go and wondered again why she wasn't attracted to him. He was tall, built, handsome, and really nice. They got along famously, like they'd always known each other. But he just didn't do anything for her. It was more like a friend or a brother vibe. Weirdly enough, she was more interested in Miller, the weird boss, than Sam. Speaking of him, in he walked, dressed in his normal business suit. Over it, he wore a tan trench coat. Come to think of it, she'd never seen him out of it.
"Good morning Mr. Collins!" She greeted him cheerily, and he acknowledged her with a glance. He was an odd guy, really. He always had a look on his face like he was slightly pissed off about something. He arrived to work in the mornings and shut himself in his office all day, only coming out to leave. And he always watched her hawkishly, intently. Sometimes she felt like a tiny mouse under his stare. But she kind of liked that for some reason.
"Good morning, Alex," he replied in his deep voice, looking at her in that peevish way of his, and without further ado, he went into his office. Alex watched until the door was shut, her chin in a hand. So weird. She had no clue why she found him so intriguing. Or so attractive. Maybe because he was so mysterious. He never said more than a few words at a time, and the five o'clock shadow, the scowl, the intense stares, the bright blue eyes, the strangely boyish old man handsomeness… something about him was so—
The phone rang, rattling her out of her daydreams, and she glanced at the time on her computer screen. Eight o'clock already. And so the day began. She picked up the phone and answered in a cheery voice. "Good morning, Sandover Bridge and Iron, how may I assist you today?"
6:00am. Wake up, Yoga, shower, dress, breakfast, walk to work. Arrive, say hi to Sam, say hi to Mr. Collins. Answer phones, redirect calls. Print memos, order supplies, refill printer ink. Clean break room refrigerator. Answer more calls. And before Alex knew it, another day was drawing to a close.
It was time to go, but Alex planned on staying a little late. Mr. Collins came out of his office and stopped at her desk, looking at her through narrowed eyes. "You're still here."
She smiled up at him, hoping maybe he would smile back. "I just need to finish up a couple things... I won't be long."
His expression didn't waver in the slightest. "See you tomorrow."
He turned and left, leaving her slightly disappointed. Sighing, she opened up her purse and took out her jump drive where her paper draft would be. She was taking night classes at one of the local colleges, and this paper was due in a few hours. She didn't have the time to go home and then to campus, and would rather work here than in the creepy college library. She only had about two hours to get it done, so she set to work, hoping she wouldn't get in trouble for using company property for personal use. It was after hours, she figured, so it couldn't hurt. She noticed about twenty minutes later, when the sun set, that behind her, there was faint blue light coming from one cubicle. She wasn't the only one staying late.
She worked for about an hour more, polishing up the paper and hoping she never had to read or analyze Heart of Darkness ever again. It was a heavy read and she couldn't quite honestly see why the professor thought it was so life-changing. But, in her pursuit of a degree in English, she supposed she would have to write a lot of papers on books she didn't get. She paused for a moment, wondering how she had let herself wait until her mid-twenties to go to college. Why hadn't she started at eighteen? She couldn't recall a specific reason.
A strange sound interrupted her thoughts. Behind her, somewhere in the cubicles or maybe the break room, she heard a very strange sound, popping, like a muffled explosion, and then a man's scream. She stood in alarm, her heart beginning to hammer. "Hello?" she called, and no one answered. She entered the quiet darkness of the cubicles, and saw that halfway down the room, the light in the break room was on. She cautiously approached the slab of light on the dark carpeted floor, frowning as she got closer, the smell of something like burned meat hitting her nostrils.
"Hello?" she called again, and peeked into the break room... only to see a man, clearly dead, hanging out of the microwave, head-first... blood and chunks of flesh spattered inside the microwave and on parts of the floor and ceiling. Alex tilted her head to the side, grimacing in disgust. "Ugh." Then she frowned at herself, not sure how she could react so casually to such a horrific sight. She needed to call the police—but as she stood there, she felt the temperature of the room drop, and as she breathed out, her breath made a little puff of vapor. And in the shiny glass of the coffeepot, she thought she saw a movement behind her, a hazy reflection of an old man. She whirled, but no one was there.
A little disconcerted, she hugged her arms to herself and looked around, beginning to feel legitimately spooked. "Okay, definitely time to call the cops."
Sam and Alex watched as the coroner team wheeled the body out. People from other floors were gathered in reception, watching in horrified curiosity. Beside Alex, Sam was shaking his head. "He really stuck his head in a microwave?" he was appalled.
"Yes, just like I told you. It was sick," Alex said, then shook her head sadly. "He was two weeks from retiring. I was helping to plan a little office party for him. He was excited about it... I don't get why he did this."
"Yeah it's all… very bizarre." Sam sounded as suspicious as she felt. Something about it wasn't normal, wasn't natural. Sam looked at her, concerned. "Sorry you had to see all of that, Alex."
"Ah. It wasn't so bad," Alex said, drawing a surprised look from her coworker.
"Wasn't so bad?" he repeated.
"Well I mean, it was horrible," she backpedaled, not wanting Sam to think she was a freak. "But I dunno, I'm fine. Not that shaken up." She frowned. "Maybe I should be worried that I feel fine." She thought about telling him about the chill in the room, the reflection she thought she saw, but wasn't sure if that would make her sound crazy or not.
"Hey!" Came a loud voice. It was the assistant floor manager, Dave. "Everyone needs to quit standing around and gawking, and get to your cubicles. Yes, it's sad, but we have work to do, people."
The employees all dissipated, and Alex gave Sam a wan smile. "See you at lunch?" He asked halfheartedly.
"I'll be there," she confirmed, and headed up towards reception. She ran into a rushed looking Ian—he was Sam's desk neighbor and today she almost didn't recognize him. He was actually in company dress policy, clean shaven, and hair neatly combed. Another bizarre thing to add to the growing list. "Morning, Ian," she greeted, looking at him curiously.
"I don't have time to talk, I need to get to work," he said replied, brushing past her and making a beeline for his cubicle. Alex frowned, unable to shake the growing feeling that something was off.
"My pleasure ma'am. Thank you for calling Sandover. Goodbye." Alex disconnected the phone call and yawned restlessly. It was around lunch time and Ian had gone up to HR about an hour ago. When he didn't come back, Sam went to go see what happened. She was feeling the mid day lull coming on, and was already thinking about how much she couldn't wait to get home and watch the Oprah show that would be waiting on her DVR. Just then, Sam came back in. From his expression, Alex could tell something was wrong, and stood up. "What happened? Where's Ian?"
Sam's face was blank. "Ian stabbed himself in the neck with a pencil in the HR bathroom."
Alex blinked. "What?"
"Yeah."
"What the hell?" Alex asked, then covered her mouth with her hand in embarrassment. "Sorry. I don't usually swear."
"I don't know," Sam said, ignoring her apology. "He was acting all weird this morning, like all... anal-retentive and worried about work. That's not like him."
"Yeah, he seemed off this morning." Alex dropped her voice, leaned in. "Do you think... something is going on? I mean, two extremely weird suicides in two days?"
"I'm not sure," Sam said, but from his troubled, thoughtful expression, she thought that was exactly what he was thinking.
Wake up, meditate, shower, dress, breakfast, walk to work. Arrive, say hi to Sam, say hi to Mr. Collins.
Alex found herself staring blankly at her computer for most of the day, taking calls and doing her tasks in a disconnected kind of way. She felt strange, and couldn't pinpoint why. Inside, she was beginning to fear that maybe she was going crazy, that she was seeing things or imagining things. And last night, she had dreamed about a vintage black car, a man in a puffy vest and flannel calling her an 'idgit', and flickering neon motel signs. She wasn't sure why the dream had stuck with her, but it was eating away at her. In an attempt to distract herself, she smoothed her flowy blouse, readjusting the line where she had tucked it into the waist of her skirt. She stared down at her feet, which were shoved into black heels, and then looked at her manicured fingernails. Somehow, the sight of both seemed wrong. Maybe it was time to change her style.
"Alex!" Sam had appeared out of nowhere, and was intently leaning over her desk. "I just got a call from Dean Smith."
"Who's that?" Alex asked, frowning at his sudden arrival and urgent tone.
"A big time guy who works upstairs in HR. He wants to see us."
Surprised, Alex stood up. "Are we in trouble? Why both of us?" Alex asked, not understanding.
Sam lowered his voice, becoming furtive. "I think it has something to do with... with the deaths. He told me to 'bring the girl who saw the other guy's corpse.'"
At that, Alex felt a twinge of intrigue, and her sense of adventure sparking alive inside her. She felt herself smiling. "Okay. Well, what are we waiting for?"
In hushed excitement, the two of them ducked out of the office and onto the elevator up to the seventh floor, where they found Dean Smith's office. After Sam knocked and Dean called them in, Sam led the way into a spacious modern office. With a gray color palette and black and white photographs of famous cityscapes lining the wall, the office reeked of position and upper management. Standing behind the desk was the guy from the elevator—the yuppie douche bag guy. Alex felt a little disappointment.
"Come on in," he said, both hands on the back of his chair. "Shut the door." Dean paused a beat, and looked at Sam through narrowed eyes after they'd done what he said. "So wanna tell me who the hell you are?"
Sam looked a little surprised by the direct question, and Alex answered with uncharacteristic boldness when he said nothing. "This is Sam Wesson. I'm Alex Remington. And... you called us here. Shouldn't you know who we are?" She fixed him with an expectant look.
"I've seen you in the elevator before," Dean said flippantly, looking at her for the first time. "So you're the one who saw... the body?"
"Yup. And you're the one who saw... Ian die."
"Yup," he confirmed uncomfortably, and then cleared his throat. "Among other things. I, uh... so you two started working here three weeks ago, huh?"
Sam and Alex both nodded, not sure where their superior was going with this. "Yeah, me too," he said, walking over to one of his shelves. He grabbed a water bottle full of a dirty-looking liquid and unscrewed the cap. "It's, uh, the Master Cleanse. You tried it? Phenomenal. Detoxes you like nobody's business."
He took a swig and Alex scoffed. "It looks disgusting."
"Oh, it is," he said, grinning.
Sam, however, wasn't interested in their trivialities. He had fixed this Dean guy with an intent gaze, and stepped a little closer. "When you were in that bathroom with Ian... did you see something?"
Dean looked caught, his expression chilling in fear, then softening as he tried to laugh it off. "I don't know. I don't know what I saw. I was tripping."
Sam's frown deepened. "What did you see? You saw something... I can tell."
Dean looked uncomfortable and hesitant, and Alex's mouth hung open slightly. Somehow, she knew what he had seen. "You saw a ghost didn't you?"
At her direct question, Dean's expression showed stunned confirmation. Alex was nodding, suddenly excited, looking between Sam and Dean both, glad she could finally tell someone about what she saw. "I think I saw one too. When I found Paul—" her excitement faded, as she remembered the sad reality of Paul's demise. "When I found Paul, may he, uh, rest in peace—the room got cold, like, freezing cold. And I saw this blurry reflection in the coffee pot..." she had both of the guys' rapt attention. "I turned around... and no one was there." She waited to see if they would think she was crazy. "It was a ghost, wasn't it?" she asked, looking at Sam, and then Dean, hoping.
"Was it... an old white guy? Gray hair, wrinkly face?" Dean asked slowly, sounding like he was both dreading and eagerly awaiting her answer.
"Yeah!" Alex breathed, in disbelief that she wasn't crazy, and someone else had seen the same image.
"Guys—what if these suicides aren't actually suicides?" Sam asked breathlessly, emphatically. "I mean, what if they're something... not natural?"
"Something... paranormal? Like... ghost murders?" Alex asked, her voice lowering to a whisper at the last two words.
Dean was scoffing, trying to be reasonable. "Come on guys... that sounds kind of crazy… I mean, first thing first: ghosts are real? And not only that, but they're responsible for all the dead bodies around here?"
He sat down at his desk, and Sam and Alex grabbed seats across from him. "I know it sounds crazy," Sam said earnestly. "But guys… that has to be it!"
"What makes you so sure?" Dean asked, obviously not as on board with the idea as Sam was.
Sam took a minute, looking for an answer. "Instinct," he finally replied, and Alex felt a chill run up her spine. That was exactly what she had been thinking, too. She looked at Sam in amazement, and he looked back at her. It was like they were thinking the same thought.
Dean had a look on his face like reluctant agreement. "Yeah. I've, uh, got the same instinct."
"You do too, don't you Alex?" Sam asked, even though he sounded like he already knew her answer was yes.
"Yeah, I mean, it's crazy... but I don't see what else it could be," Alex said, meaning every word.
There was a short, pensive silence. "Dean, you know those dreams I was telling you about?" Sam asked. "I was dreaming about ghosts."
"Wait, what dreams?" Alex asked, puzzled, thinking of her strange dream last night.
"I dreamed that I fought ghosts, like, that it was my entire life," Sam explained.
"And that I was helping him do it," Dean added, sounding a little unenthused.
Sam got a little quiet, hesitant. "You weren't the only one, Dean… Alex, you were in the dreams too," Alex and Dean exchanged glances as Sam continued. "And then it turns out that there's a real ghost, and the three of us here, now..." he trailed off. "Coincidence?"
"So, what, your dreams are visions?" Dean asked, a little sarcastically. "You some kind of psychic?"
"No!" Sam exclaimed quickly. "I mean, that would be nuts."
"Why would that be nuts?" Alex cut in, amused. "Did you guys forget the subject matter? Ghost murders?"
Dean chuckled a little, as Sam continued. "I'm just saying something weird is definitely going on around here, right? So I've been digging around a little." Sam pulled some papers out of his bag, and handed half of them over to Dean, half to Alex.
"I think I found a connection between the two guys."
"You broke into their email accounts?" Dean asked, frowning, but before Sam could backpedal, Alex grinned at him over the printouts.
"Sam... that is so against company protocol… but… oh my God... so very cool!" She was almost starstruck.
Sam looked at Dean nervously, but Dean was busy trying to hide an impressed smile. He shrugged. "It is pretty badass, if I say so myself."
"Uh, thanks," Sam said meekly, and cleared his throat. "Yeah. Okay. So it turns out Ian and Paul both got this same email telling them to report to HR, room fourteen forty-four."
"But HR's here on seven," Alex said, and they all shared a significant glance. "This email has something to do with the murders," Alex surmised, getting more excited by the second. "Guys. We have got to check this out."
"Like right now?" Sam asked hesitantly.
"No. No, it's getting late," Dean said, although he didn't sound convinced.
Alex looked between the two of them. "Guys."
"I'm dying to check this out right now," Sam said, and Dean's expression showed that he was too.
"Right?" Dean asked, already getting to his feet.
The three of them hopped on the elevator up to the fourteenth floor, and searched down the room in question. "Fourteen thirty-eight, we're getting close," Sam said as they rounded a corner. And suddenly, they heard a man scream. Breaking into a run, they found the door to fourteen forty-four was locked. Sam wiggled the door handle, then without a word, drew back and kicked the door in, leaving Dean and Alex to stare in momentary awe, saying "whoa!" at the same time. Sam led the way, and they ran into the dark room, which looked like a computer storage unit. All the screens were on, gray static playing. The room was ice cold.
"Look!" Alex said, pointing to a man laying on the floor with a heavy shelf on top of him. Dean and Sam rushed to him and began to lift the shelf off. And then, flickering into existence behind Dean, the ghost appeared—the old man from the reflection. "Dean! Look out!" Alex shouted, her eyes wide as she saw the old man fling Dean against a wall and shove Sam over. She felt herself fly backwards without even being touched, and she collided with a pile of old computers. She rolled over easily as if by instinct, crouched on the ground, and stared as the old man reached for the tech support employee, his hand sparking with blue lightning.
She sprang up, rushing across the distance that separated her from the man who was about to be zapped, and with a strength she didn't know she had, she lifted the heavy metal shelf off the man—but not fast enough. The ghost's finger was a fraction of an inch from the man, who was screaming in horror. And then, just in the nick of time, Dean swung a wrench at the old man, who dissipated like a cloud of smoke. All the screens switched off, and the room went silent. The three of them stared at each other, agape. "How the hell did you lift that?" Dean asked Alex, incredulous.
"I guess I'm stronger than I thought?" Alex said, not entirely sure herself. "But never mind that, how did you know how to do that wrench thing?"
Dean shook his head, as puzzled as they were. "I have no idea."
About twenty minutes later, the three of them, were settling into Dean's apartment, still reeling from their ghost encounter. "Holy crap, dude," Dean said, pacing back and forth and guzzling his master cleanse liquid.
"Yeah. I could use a beer," Sam said, letting out a heavy breath.
"Oh, sorry, man. I'm on the Cleanse," Dean said, heading for his refrigerator. "I got rid of all the carbs in the house."
"You suck," Alex said, wishing she could get her hands on a Killian's Red or a Newcastle.
"So, how the hell did you know that ghosts are scared of wrenches?" Sam asked as Dean grabbed water bottles out of his refrigerator.
"Crazy, right?" Dean asked, handing a water bottle to Alex, and then Sam. "And nice job kicking that door too. That was very Jet Li. What are you, like a black belt or something?" He looked at Alex, his eyebrows raised."And you, Hulk Hogan. That shelf had to weigh more than a hundred pounds."
"Yeah, I had no idea my own strength," Alex said honestly, and flexed her arm muscle curiously, poking the defined bicep with her pointer finger, in a shocked kind of awe. "Whoa. They are kinda big. I've never noticed before. Do I work out? I don't think I work out…" she trailed off, frowning.
Sam was in deep thought. "It's like...we've done this before."
"What do you mean, before?" Dean questioned.
"Like in a previous life?" Alex asked skeptically. "I don't know how I feel about reincarnation..."
"No," Sam said, shaking his head. "I—I just can't shake this feeling like I—like I don't belong here. You know? Like I should do something more than sit in a cubicle."
Dean chuckled. "I think most people who work in a cubicle feel that same way."
Alex, however, looked at Sam. "I think I know what you mean. I wake up in the morning and just… something's off. But I'm not sure. I feel really foggy sometimes, like I don't even like what I think I like." It sounded insanely stupid when she said it out loud, and she shrugged. "Not sure how to explain it, really."
"I know, right?" Sam seemed to agree with her. "I mean, I don't like my job. I don't like this town. I don't like my clothes. I don't like my own last name." Alex was nodding, hanging onto every word, feeling like he was talking for her. "I don't know how else to explain it, except that... it feels like I should be doing something else. There's just something in my blood. Like I was destined for something different. What about you? You ever feel that way?"
"You're starting to sound kind of Star Wars, there, Yoda," Alex joked. He'd lost her at the destiny stuff.
"I don't believe in destiny," Dean said, earning a look of respect from Alex. "I do believe in dealing with what's right in front of us, though."
"All right, so, what do we do now?" Sam asked.
Dean grinned. "We do what I do best, Sammy. Research."
"Okay. ...wait." Sam looked at Dean oddly. "Did you just call me Sammy?"
"Uh, did I?" Dean asked.
"I think you did. Yeah. Don't."
"Sorry," Dean said.
Alex chuckled. "Get a room, guys."
"Shut up," the two men said in unison.
"Here's the beers, Sam," Alex said, plopping down a six pack of Newcastle on the table. Both Dean and Sam had a laptop in front of them.
Sam cracked open a beer. "You're the best, Alex. Thanks for getting these."
She sat down between them, grabbing herself a beer. "What've you guys found?"
Dean was eyeing the beer a little wistfully from the corner of his eye. "Sure you don't want one?" Alex asked as she opened hers.
"I'm on the cleanse," he replied dutifully, tearing his eyes away from the bottle in her hand. "Anyway, I just found the best site ever. Real, actual ghost hunters."
Sam and Alex leaned their heads over, peering at Dean's screen. "These guys are genius," Dean said, a certain note of admiring in his voice. "Check it out."
An instructional video began playing, two guys who called themselves Ghostfacers. They watched the video, hovering close to the screen in rapt attention. When it was over, they sat back in unison, silently absorbing everything they had just heard. "Okay," Sam said slowly, "so we just need to research this ghost, figure out who he is, and then find his remains... or the haunted item."
"Sounds good," Dean said. Alex, however, was just sitting there, a huge grin on her face.
"Those guys were so cool," she breathed, glancing at Sam, then Dean. "This makes me wish I could be a ghost hunter. Wow."
"You seem easily impressed, kid," Dean said, giving her a superior smile like she were dumb.
She ignored the comment and just looked at him sidelong. "Have a beer already, will you?"
His jaw clenched. "The cleanse," he said, this time sounding blatantly depressed.
She smiled to herself and took a long swig of hers so he could watch jealously.
Wake up, meditate, shower, dress, breakfast, walk to work... Alex arrived at work like normal, wearing a shorter floral dress (Friday, casual day), cardigan, and heels. Behind her, she heard the low hum of the office—people taking calls on the phone, the printers going. But she was remembering last night, when she, Dean, and Sam had killed a ghost. It had been the most thrilling and life-altering thing she had ever done—after researching the Sandover building and its history, they had recognized the face of their ghost, and learned that there was an item of his still in the building—a single glove. Together, they had fought off the ghost, found and burned the glove. All with just fractions of seconds to spare. After they came within an inch of their lives, they had gone back to Dean's office, where Sam had proposed they quit their jobs and go hunt down ghosts. Alex had thought it was an exciting prospect, and even let herself dream about actually doing it for all of thirty seconds, until Dean had shot the idea down.
Alex was so lost in her thoughts there at her desk that she didn't even notice when Mr. Collins came in. If she had looked up, she might have seen his eyes traverse her bare legs, she might have seen him swallow strangely, she might have seen him go into his office faster than he usually did. But she was staring at her screen blankly, unsure. Just, unsure.
Sam had been disappointed after Dean had said no, and then he left without talking to Alex about it. She honestly would have dropped everything in that moment and left with him right then. Something about what happened last night felt right. But this morning, Sam had come in, with a face of stone, and he didn't even say hello. Alex sighed restlessly, staring at the kitten wallpaper of her computer. She could hear some kind of commotion going on in the cubicles behind her, but was unable to care or look away from the kittens... their soft white fluffy fur, their wide blue eyes, their wispy whiskers... she felt a growing sense of hatred the longer she stared at it, and suddenly a burst of pure, undiluted rage. "I hate cats!" She shouted, and taking hold of the computer with both hands, she stood up and ripped it from its chords, and threw it across the room, where it smashed against the wall. She stared at it, blinking in surprise, then realized someone was standing just off to her side.
Sam stood there, staring at her, a fire poker in his hand. He seemed a little out of breath. "I... just killed my phone," he explained, which explained nothing, but she nodded, feeling like she understood him perfectly.
"I hate cats. Like, literally despise them," she replied, and he, also, nodded, seeming to understand her somehow, too. She rounded her desk, coming to him and speaking in hushed, urgent tones. "Let's go. You and me. We'll go on the road, like you said. We can ask Dean again, but even if he doesn't want to... we can. We're supposed to. You know?"
"Yeah," Sam said, nodding and looking happier than she remembered him ever looking.
As if on cue, the door to the right of Alex's desk opened. Miller Collins peered out at then sullenly, then glanced at the smashed computer to his left. He then stepped aside, holding the door open further. "Come into my office. Both of you."
They shared a glance and obliged quietly, their momentary high fading into quiet dread.
"Look, sorry about the phone—" Sam started, but stopped talking when he saw Mr. Collins reaching out to touch him on the forehead. Alex watched, mystified, and then Mr. Collins touched her, too. And suddenly, she remembered everything—she was Alex Winchester, that was Sam, her brother, and... her jaw dropped and she looked down at herself then at Mr. Collins… a.k.a. Castiel.
"What the hell, Cas?" She asked, mouth agape.
"Explain. Now," Sam said angrily.
"Is this real?" Alex asked, looking around and down at herself again. She looked at Cas, barely able to process her thoughts.
He looked stoic, as usual. "Yes, this is real," he replied apathetically. "This was Zachariah's idea. It was to prove to the three of you that the life you live; hunting, is what you're meant to do. It's your destiny."
"I-is this some kind of sick joke?" Sam asked, aghast. "You take three weeks of our lives for your own angel comedy hour?"
"And who the hell is Zachariah? Another one of your angel pals?" Alex felt herself shaking in outrage. In the tiny dress, with her legs bare, she felt naked and violated somehow. "You took all of our memories? You… turned me into… this?" A cat-loving, skirt-wearing freak?!
"It was not my idea," Castiel said simply, as if that would fix everything.
"No, you just played along, watched me live a life I don't belong in... sit here, answer phones, worry about my college career, and stare at my kitten screensaver…?" She was getting loud now. "I don't even like cats, Cas!"
"Yes, I heard you. You shouted it quite loudly," he said, looking at her sideways, looking mildly annoyed. "The point of all this is that you—the Winchester family—are supposed to hunt. It's in your very blood. But more than that, you're supposed to stick together." His eyebrows knit together as if in earnestness. "The past three weeks, the two of you have been closer than you have in the entire past year."
He had a point, but it wasn't one the twins were happy about. Sam and Alex glanced at each other. Unlike a few moments ago, when they had been Sam Wesson and Alex Remington, the glance was now tinged with bitterness. "Maybe that was because I couldn't remember anything about what he's done to screw up the family," Alex said.
Sam scoffed and chuckled humorlessly. "You sure do know how to hold a grudge, don't you Alex."
"It's not a grudge, it's me remembering the facts," she replied in a short tone of voice.
There was a silence, and Castiel looked down, seeming to be disappointed.
"Yeah. Well, Cas, you got us," Sam said brusquely. "Good job." Heated, he took a few steps back, running a hand through his hair, trying to calm down.
Alex just stared at Castiel with a frown. "I don't get it. What gives you angels the right to think you can screw with our heads like that. Huh?"
"Alex—" Castiel started, only to be cut off.
"No. You did something that violated us. Nothing you say can justify it, so don't even try." She crossed her arms angrily, beyond incredulous at the entire thing. "I'm so tired of your weird tests and stupid righteous attitude and how you come in and think you can just do whatever you want with my family!"
Castiel seemed to be trying to remain reasonable. "It's regrettable that you feel violated…"
"Yeah, regrettable!" Alex interrupted again, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Thanks, Cas. This is my life, and I don't appreciate—"
"The life that I gave you!" Castiel thundered, and the room seemed to darken, his deep voice seemed to carry a power that it hadn't before. A little intimidated, Alex had taken a step back, in shock. Behind her, Sam was staring, slack jawed, at Cas.
The angel's expression was fiery—jaw clenched, brow furrowed, breathing harder than normal. He was angry, and it was all directed at Alex. "You know that before I touched the hand of healing upon you, your life was not what it is today. You were set free of the prison of your mind. By me." He had approached her, and was staring her down unflinchingly. The edge of his trench coat brushed against her bare knee. "But you've never once stopped to realize what I did for you. Have you truly never wondered why, after a lifetime of being mute, how you could suddenly speak? And not only speak, but speak perfectly, as if you had been speaking for your entire life? I didn't simply give you the ability to speak, I made you whole. It wasn't easy, Alex Winchester." His bright blue eyes seemed to hold some unspoken pain or secret. "It cost me more than you know." His voice softened, his anger faded, and he looked away. His next words were utterly convicting. "You make me regret the kindness I've shown you."
Alex stared at him, stunned and speechless, feeling very, very small and yes... ashamed.
Without warning, she and Sam were no longer at Sandover, but in a very dim motel room. Castiel was gone.
The twins were silent for a short moment as their eyes adjusted to the darkness. "We were staying here right after Dean got out of the hospital," Sam said, and Alex realized he was right—she saw their bags piled in the corner, just as they'd left them.
Exhausted in a way that wasn't physical, Alex sat on a bed, burying her face in her hands. She felt overwhelmed, tricked, but mostly humiliated, almost to the point of tears. You make me regret the kindness I've shown you. She heard Sam sit opposite of her, but she didn't look up. Just kept covering her burning face.
Suddenly, there was a sound to their right. "Whoa. Honey, I'm home." It was Dean, in a business suit, his hair slicked down. "Well would you look at us. It's like Halloween," he commented wryly, looking at his siblings who were still in their weird Sandover outfits.
"Dean!" Sam said in relief, standing. "So I'm guessing you met Zachariah."
Dean's brow furrowed slightly. "How'd you know?"
"Cas told us," Sam said, glancing at Alex, who still sat on the bed. She had her hand down over her mouth, was slouching with an elbow on her knee. "He was... our floor manager."
"Of course he was," Dean said. "Well, I, for one, am starting to get real tired of these angels yanking our chains around." He looked at Alex, who still wore the dress and heels. "You look ridiculous, by the way." She made a face at him, let her hands hang down over her knees.
"Yeah well at least I didn't just do the Master Cleanse," she muttered, which Dean made a face at.
"Well what did Zachariah say to you?" Sam asked, not interested in small talk. "Hopefully more than Cas did, because he barely explained anything. He just chewed Alex out."
"Yeah?" Dean asked, looking mildly interested.
"Did you really have to bring that up?" Alex asked Sam, giving him a somber look. He shrugged.
"Listen, before we get all heart to heart, I need food," Dean said. "Real food. And a beer. Lots and lots of beer. Bring on the carbs."
"Yeah. Okay," Sam agreed. They went and grabbed dinner at a local diner, dressed the way they were. Alex listened as her brothers did most of the talking, her mind far away. She faded in and out of paying attention.
"I mean, I was drinking rice milk," Dean said. "Rice milk. I had a gym membership, and ate salad." He said salad like it was a dirty word.
"I went home every night and played XBOX. Like all night." Sam admitted sheepishly.
"The highlight of my day was Oprah," Alex said glumly.
"Wait, you don't really like Oprah?" Dean asked, grinning and plunking a fry into ketchup. "So, you ever gonna tell me what Cas had to say to you?" Dean asked as he chomped the fried potato.
Alex stared at her plate, her eyes seeing nothing, her mind going to a strange place. "Eh. Just bitching about random stuff, nothing major."
Dean clearly knew she was avoiding telling him everything but it didn't seem to matter as he munched on fries. Alex slunk down further into her seat, Cas's words still on the forefront of her mind. She felt bad. She felt like the world's biggest bitch. She was really starting to get the feeling that she'd misjudged Castiel completely. He clearly wasn't perfect but... he kept saying he chose to give her the ability to speak at a great cost to himself. She kept thinking on that for the rest of the day, wondering who he was. Who he really was. This being she kept getting glimpses of beyond his duties and loyalties.
Alex sat outside the motel on the edge of the sidewalk underneath a clear midnight sky. It was cold and she was listlessly watching highway traffic pass by, thinking. She was once again looking like herself—in her favorite pair of jeans, her well-loved boots, a tank top, and a warm cargo jacket. She'd showered off the makeup and hair products and was no longer a caricature of herself.
She thought back to the past three weeks, where she had been free of all the pains of the past. Instead of torturing herself over her brothers, the apocalypse, the endless list of hardships in her life, she had been content to fix her hair every day, watch mindless TV every night, and her biggest concern had been what outfit she would wear for work the next day. So now, she could say she knew what a 'normal life' was like—and it was pretty horrible overall. And lonely. Isolated.
She still didn't like the fact that the angels had duped them like that—stolen their memories, transplanted their lives—but she was admitting to herself that treating Cas the way she had probably hadn't been right. It hadn't been his idea, after all. He'd just been following orders. Ridiculous, stupid orders, but still. She thought of her attraction to him when she thought he was a man named Miller Collins, and felt intense embarrassment. The angels must have implanted that into her mind along with the other things, as some kind of joke, or test. Right? Well. She did think Cas was handsome, didn't she? Ugh.
All Alex knew is that when he stood up to her like that, told her off about her behavior... at first she'd been humiliated and pissed. Now, she realized she had to respect him for having the courage to tell her what he felt and thought. She thought of his face when he said he regretted the kindness he'd shown her. Inside, her heart broke a little, and she thought of how ungrateful and undeserving she was, how much she regretted her words and actions, how disappointed she was in her lack of self control. If Cas could have seen, before he healed her, how she would treat him, he probably never would have bothered at all. She owed him the apology of the century and felt so bad.
She drew in a deep breath and let it out, getting a little nervous about what she was about to do. This felt absolutely ridiculous and even if he did show, he'd probably just bitch at her some more, which she deserved but... eesh. He'd given her a new chance at life, like he said. And she had to do this. Gathering her courage, Alex screwed her eyes shut, and in a voice just above a whisper, she spoke. "Um. Castiel? Are you there?"
She opened her eyes, and flinched slightly. "Hello, Alex," he said, standing just in front of her.
She stared up at him with a shocked expression, almost too caught off guard to speak. "Wow... just like that," she breathed out. "You come when I call?"
"Of course. I am your guardian angel," he replied, almost sounding like he was surprised she would ask that. He didn't look angry or disappointed as he had the last time she saw him.
Her brow furrowed in confusion. "You are?" she asked. Last time she'd heard, Uriel said those orders or whatever were no longer valid.
Cas looked down slightly. "Yes. I discovered that Uriel was lying about that."
"Oh." Alex nodded as she took that into her understanding. She'd suspected as much. She gave a tight smile and somewhat awkwardly patted the spot beside her, indicating that he should sit—no sense in standing there where she had to crane her head up to look at him. He didn't seem to understand for a couple seconds, then he joined her, sitting close enough that their elbows brushed against each other's. Since the curb was so low to the ground, his knees were level with his chest, but he didn't seem to have the poise Alex had (her arms were leaned onto her knees). He just sat there, arms at his sides, knees in his face, looking ridiculous. She couldn't hide the amused little smile that sprang to her face. She tried to fight it, tried to look serious, but it didn't work.
"I'm sorry, I can't... you need to put your arms on your knees... that just looks... wrong," she said through a mouth that was trying to smile. He frowned, not understanding. Uncertainly, he looked at her for reference but got it all wrong, placed a hand on each knee, his arms straight against his legs, increasing his awkward ridiculousness by about a hundred percent. Chuckling out loud now, Alex shook her head. "No, no, that's worse," she said, grinning, and grabbed his forearm, showed him what she meant, guiding him to a more casual, relaxed stance. He looked at her hand on his arm, then at her, his expression unreadable. Alex's smile faded, and she let go, remembering why she had called him. She wet her lips and mustered her courage, bracing herself.
"I, uh, needed to tell you something," she began, not entirely sure how she was going to work it all. She struggled for the words, her pride taking a hit as she forced herself to begin talking. Her skin burned a little from embarrassment. "I'm..." she forced the next word out, "sorry, Cas." He looked back at her, his expression stern as usual. "I've been... a total bitch to you," she mumbled, then quickly added on, "I mean, some times you did deserve it." She cleared her throat. "Uh, but… I told you that I hated you or whatever . you should die or something." Her ears were burning. "I was pissed, and the words just... like, came out. I was trying to hurt you. Because, um, you hurt me." Ugh, Doctor Phil, eat your heart out. Alex wanted to die, talking about this Hallmark crap. But Castiel just listened. Didn't rub it in or make her feel worse.
Alex found the ability to continue as he waited, listening. She swallowed and sighed, shutting her eyes. "After all you've done for me... you didn't deserve the things I said." She opened her eyes again and forced herself to look him in the eye, which was hard. "What you did for me... you're right. You gave me so much." Her skin was on fire with uncomfortable feelings. Honestly, she could have thanked him for an eternity for what he had done and given her, but underneath his intense gaze and imposing presence, Alex was done, embarrassed completely. "I hate apologies, Cas. But, I hope you know I mean it. I'm sorry, okay?" She sighed heavily and shrugged, looked down between her knees, feeling supremely awkward. "Well—that's all I got." She threw her hands up a little, then let them go. Somehow, what she'd imagined as a grand and beautiful apology felt small and awkward and sappy.
Cas looked at her a moment longer, and his expression was surprisingly un-pinched. It made him look years younger and more open. "Yes. I do know that you are sincere," he said, making her stomach flip. "And I accept your apology." Just like that? Alex was floored by his ready forgiveness. Castiel looked out ahead of them, his expression growing softer. "I have thought about how difficult it would be to suddenly have memories back you didn't remember. You were disconcerted. And felt what was yours was taken away. In truth, it was. I've thought about many things you've told me I was wrong for doing." He drew in a deep breath through his nose, expelled it the same. "I appreciate your perspective, even if I don't always understand it."
Again, her stomach flip-flopped and Alex glanced his way sidelong, surprised at him. He always caught her off guard in the most unexpected of ways. Who was this angel? Was he this softer, thoughtful, curious creature she saw glimpses of one-on-one? Or was he the fierce, staunch soldier of Heaven? She didn't know, but he intrigued her more and more. They sat in silence a moment longer, Alex trying to summon the courage to say what she did next. "You could've done nothing," Alex said, watching his expression. "I would've never known the difference."
He almost smiled when she said that—his lips turned up and his eyes crinkled slightly at the edges as he watched the traffic passing by. It was a bittersweet appearing expression. He turned his head toward her, his eyes meeting hers with a soulful intensity. "I was not willing to do nothing."
The way he said it made her feel like she couldn't maintain eye contact, and she shivered slightly, self-conscious, looking away somewhat pointedly, not sure why he made her feel like that. She could feel him looking at her still, and his head had tilted slightly, his eyes were softer than she ever remembered seeing them and she floundered, feeling warm all over and uncomfortable. "I, uh... it's late," she hedged, wanting to escape. "I should probably get in there before they come looking."
"Of course," he replied and Alex stood up. He followed suit. His voice stopped her a couple steps toward the door. "Goodnight, Alex."
She turned to look at him over her shoulder.
He had put his hands into his pockets—and that caught her attention. Standing there in the parking lot with neon signs behind him and light illuminating the side of his face, Alex felt like she was seeing him for the first time. He seemed very interesting to her in that moment, she wondered about him and why he looked at her like that. A little stricken by her thoughts, she felt a certain, mostly unfamiliar shy feeling overcome her.
She tucked her hair behind her ear, avoiding solidly meeting his eyes. She gave him a small, tight smile all the same. "'Night, Cas."
Alex Winchester turned and went into the motel as her guardian angel stayed and watched until she was safely inside.
Author's Note: This chapter was so fun to write... so many little humorous moments... I hope you enjoyed it. Inside joke: They all had the last name of gun brands. Smith & Wesson and Remington.