The sun was rising across the lake, and Alex tugged her wings in tighter around her, watching the light slowly furl out over the water. Dean paced on the pier behind her, voice sharp with frustration, but he was too far away for Alex to make out each and every word. She knew he was talking to Frank Devereaux; and that was all she cared to know. Sam was taking a walk; Alex had spent most of the night out by the lake, but she knew Lucifer had kept the Winchester up for the better part of the night.

Footsteps approached, and Alex looked up. Sam was walking down the road, a cup of coffee in one hand, a newspaper in the other. Lucifer was nowhere in sight, and Alex scrambled to her feet, hurrying up the gravel path to greet him. "Hey!" she chirped, clearing her over-excited voice to get it back under control. "Uh, hey. How are you doing?"

"Tired, but I'll live."

"He's a crazy son of a bitch," Dean muttered, walking up to them and shutting his phone.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Frank?"

"You know, having a crazy total paranoid as your go-to guy, that's — that's . . . I don't know what that is." Dean shook his head and watched Sam take a long sip of his coffee. "What are you going for, like, the Guinness record of caffeine consumption? That's like your fifth this morning."

Alex looked up at Sam, concerned by that fact, but he only shrugged. "Yeah, well, every time I close my eyes, Lucifer is yelling into my head. It's like I let him in once, now I can't get rid of him."

"You know he's not actually . . ."

"Yeah. Yeah, no. I know." With forced humor Sam added, "Uh, try telling that to the volume control inside my brain ."

"Well, did you try the hand thing?"

"Yeah. Anyways, as long as I'm up, check it out." Sam handed the newspaper to Dean, and Alex shifted so she could look up over his arm. "They're saying drugs, but read between the lines. Sounds like she danced her own feet off. Might be our kind of thing."

Dean nodded. "Dancers," he grinned. "They are toe shoes full of crazy."

Sam and Alex exchanged looks. "You — and you would know this how?"

"I saw 'Black Swan.' Twice." Dean looked between his brother and the angel and immediately grew defensive. "Hot tutu-on-tutu action? Come on, guys. What's wrong with you?"

"Ew." Alex pulled a face. "Ballet is . . . no. Ugh. Why do the guys have to wear such tight pants? It's gross." She grinned when Dean rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

"Anyways. The case is in Portland, a couple hours away. What do you think?"

"I think we should." Alex immediately voted. "Come on. Someone danced their own feet off? How cool is that?" She moved towards the Firebird they had hijacked a few days ago, hand going to open the backdoor.

"Why not," Dean agreed, following after her. To Sam he added, "Maybe you'll get some sleep on the way."

"Yeah, maybe." Sam got into the front seat as Dean started the car.

Alex leaned in between them, a frown on her face. "I can maybe help you sleep," she suggested. "Might be able to knock you out."

She heard Lucifer's chuckle from beside her. "You really think your grace can compete with mine? Let's face it, angel; Sam's my little bitch."

Alex glared at him but leaned forward all the same, resting her palm on Sam's temple, pushing her grace inside his skull. She immediately felt Lucifer's grace like a wall, burning cold against her. It twisted around her, and she heard him chuckle before she was forcefully shoved away.

Alex's grace snapped back into her body, and as her eyes came back into focus she saw Sam clutching his head. "Sam?"

"Alex!" Dean snapped. "What the hell did you do?"

"Nothing! It was Lucifer!" Her wings fluttered as the pain and ringing subsided. "Ow," she complained. "That fucking hurt, Luce." She felt his grace stir within her, almost like he was trying to apologize, and she forcefully pushed it down, crossing her arms and ruffling her feathers. "Just drive," she muttered.

...

June 27, 2012

Portland, Oregon

Alex followed the Winchesters into the Portland Police Station, subconsciously wiping her hands off on her pants. She and Sam had gone to check out what remained of the crime scene while Dean had talked to the dancers — on his own insistence, of course. Even though it had been more than 24 hours and they were just starting to clean up the dance studio where the woman had been found, Alex still felt like she had blood all over her. However, it had been supernaturally clean; no sulphur, no EMF, no signs of anything to suggest this was anything more than a freak accident. And Alex would have believed it too, if it weren't for the small fact that the dancer had literally danced her feet clean off. Straight through the tissue, the bone, the ligaments. Through everything.

They walked up to the front desk where two officers were deep in conversation. The one behind the desk glanced up at them for only a second when Dean cleared his throat before laughing at his friend's joke, and Alex's wings twitched impatiently as she watched Lucifer materialize behind him, leaning against the interior windows.

Eventually the policeman walked away, and the officer behind the desk turned his attention to the three of them. "Hi," Sam began.

"Yeah?"

The Winchester seemed slightly taken aback by the man's coldness. "Uh, we'd like to see the crime-scene photos from the Irina Koganzon case, please."

The officer looked the three of them up and down. "And you would be . . ."

"Oh." Dean reached into his jacket pocket and Alex quickly did the same, fingers tightening around her wallet. She pulled it out and flipped it open so the officer could see.

If anything, the officer seemed less than impressed. "Give me a minute," he told them and walked away.

Alex watched him go with a frown. "Take your time," she muttered after him. "It's not like we're in a hurry or anything." She turned around and leaned her back against the front desk, fingers drumming on the polished wood counter as she studied Sam. "You gonna be able to stay awake?" she half-teased when his eyes drooped downwards. When he didn't answer, she sighed. "We'll get this fixed," she promised, "I'll find a way."

She heard Lucifer chuckle behind her. "That's right," he mocked. "You keep feeding him that hope. It'll be all that much worse when you fail."

Alex let out a sharp breath through her nose, biting down on the inside of her lower lip to keep from snapping back a retort. Instead she curled her fingers into the counter's ledge and inhaled deeply. The officer returned, holding a folder. "Evidence room is down that way," he said, pointing through a door to Alex's left. "Straight through."

He walked away without another word, and Alex and Dean exchanged looks. Sam set the folder down on the front desk and opened it up to reveal a picture of Irina Koganzon as she had been found. She was laying in a pile of blood, the picture solidifying the testimony of the officers at the crime scene; Koganzon's feet were gone, and the bloody stubs at where her calves used to be were lying in a giant pool of blood.

"Yeah, I'd call that weird," Dean agreed as he shuffled to the next photo, which clearly displayed a pair of satin ballet shoe, spotless despite the blood pooling around them. He looked down at Alex, and she nodded at the unspoken words in his eyes. Cursed object. "Come on. Let's check them out." He led the way down the hall and into the room they had been directed to.

Alex dug out her badge as Sam and Dean did the same at the sight of a stocky, middle-aged officer taking inventory. "Hey there," Sam began. "How are you doing?"

"Okay. What can I do for you fellas?"

"Well, we need to see the shoes that were involved in the ballet dancer's death."

The officer's gaze flitted across the three of them before he just shrugged. "Didn't think it'd be an FBI deal, but sure. Yeah, right here." He turned around and then he stopped, shoulders falling in disbelief. "Dammit, Tracy."

"Who's Tracy?"

"My daughter," the officer explained. "She loves ballet." After a second's pause he added, "She just went to the bathroom. She should be back any minute."

"Uh, excuse us a second." Sam almost literally dragged Alex out of the room, and her wings flared up in protest once they were out in the hall alone. She opened her mouth to snap, but the Winchesters were already moving towards the ladies bathroom.

Alex hurried after them, slipping past and shoving open the door. She slid to a stop to see a young girl, no more than twelve, sitting on the floor, ballet slippers on her feet. "Hey!" the angel snapped, grace pushing out before she yanked it back at the dark energy in the tiled room. "Take those off."

In response the girl was yanked to her tiptoes as if by an invisible rope, and her eyes went wide with fear.

"Guys!" Alex called. "Get in here!" She hesitated as the Winchester ran in behind her, not sure what to do as Tracy began to spin. "It's the shoes," she explained in a rushed breath as they rushed past her.

Sam grabbed the young girl around the waist, pulling her to the ground as Dean wrapped his arms around her kicking legs. "Dean!" he yelled. "Get the shoes!"

"I'm trying! Alex!" he yelled as a foot caught him in the head. "Help, dammit!" Alex nodded and ran over to Dean, grabbing a foot and ripping the slipper off. She tossed it behind her and knelt to the ground, holding the leg completely still as Dean pulled the second one off and threw it towards the other. "I got it, I got it!" Dean yelled as the girl fell still, no longer under the object's spell.

"I'm going to go with cursed object," Alex finally suggested, out of breath as she glanced warily at the pink shoes.

"You think?"

Alex ignored his statement, crossing the room to scoop up the two shoes, ignoring Sam's warning to be careful. She turned them around, studying the cursed ballet shoes carefully. " 'Out with the Old,' " she read before turning to the two Winchester's, pointing to the sticker on the inside of the left shoe. "I'm thinking that might be our next stop."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, helping the young girl to her feet. "I suppose it's too much to hope that those shoes are the only thing in that store we have to worry about."

"Probably." Alex tossed the shoes at the hunter's feet. "Although, honestly? Who would curse old shoes anyways? I mean, that's — that's just weird."

...

Ten minutes after getting directions to Out with the Old Antique Shop from Alex's phone, Dean pulled the Firebird into a parking space on the corner of the shop-lined Main Street. Alex looked up from her phone only to let out a cry and a curse, wings flaring out as she jumped to her feet the best she could. "Holy fucking hell," she snapped, glaring down at the ballet shoes that sat on the seat beside her. "I —"

"Didn't we put those in the trunk?" Sam's face mirrored Alex's confusion, and she kicked open her door to put some distance between her and the cursed object, grace flicking in and out like a snake's tongue in an attempt to get rid of the taint. "How d-did they —"

"Cursed object, Sam."

Sam looked at his brother, and then back at the shoes. Then he looked back at Dean once more. "Do they … look like they're … your size?"

"Shut up."

"Wait, a-are you —?"

"Getting the strong urge to Prince Siegfried my way into oblivion?" Dean finished. "Yes."

Alex snorted in amusement at his words, and Sam stared at his brother in amazed disbelief. "You really did see 'Black Swan.' "

Dean refused to give a direct answer, and after a second or two got out of the car. "Where's this store?" he asked instead.

Alex shook her head in amusement at his unwillingness to answer before pointing down the street. She took a step back as Sam got out of the car, giving him only enough room to get the door open. "You should take the shoes." Sam pointed at the ballerina slippers with a look of disgust and distrust in his features. "And, uh, keep them away from Dean."

"Why do I have to take the shoes?" Alex complained, but nevertheless leaned forward to hook her fingers around the satin laces. "They feel nasty. Like sticking your hand in a smoker's lungs." When both Winchesters frowned at her she added defensively, "We've gotten some weird bodies back at Bobby's." She shrugged nonchalantly. "Some of them smoked. Sue me. Point is, it's not pleasant, okay?" She slammed the car door behind her and looked down the street. "Let's just get these things back into the store, alright?" She lifted an eyebrow, as if daring them to protest.

Neither Winchester disagreed, and Sam led the way down the street. He stopped beside the antique shop, and Alex noticed the Going out of Business banner hanging in the front window as she followed Sam in through the glass door.

"Hello?" Sam called, looking around. A man was mopping the floor some feet away, and he looked up as they entered. He was much older than either of the Winchesters, with dark, greying hair, but the first thing Alex noticed was the shirt he was wearing. It was brown with little lines of color, with a design straight out of the Brady Bunch. He was also wearing a dark grey cardigan. Sam motioned to the shoes Alex was holding. "Did you sell these?"

"Uh, yeah." The man gave a half-hearted shrug.

"Where did you get them?" Sam's voice grew sharp with anger, and the man's eyes widened in surprise.

"Uh, m-my m-mother had them in that box." The man pointed to a box on the desk behind them, and Alex dropped the shoes onto the display case at her side before crossing over to the desk to study the box. She pushed her grace against it as she opened the lid to see a red velvet padding at the bottom, perfectly molded for two pairs of slippers. She heard the man say, "I-I don't understand. What's happening?"

"Sam." Alex called the hunter over as she held up the box to reveal the sigils painted on the inside.

Sam took three steps towards her before glancing back at Dean and spinning around. "Hey!" he snapped. "Hey hey hey!" He snatched the shoes out of his brother's hands, who was staring at them, transfixed. Alex hurried back to him, box open, and Sam dropped the shoes inside and slammed the lid shut. "Geez! You okay there, Baryshnikov?"

"Yeah." Dean blinked, eyes refocusing on them as he half-joked, "Yeah, I'm pas de done."

Alex narrowed her eyes incredulously at his pun and set the box down on display case away from the Winchester. "Okay," the store owner began, "if it's not to much trouble, do you mind telling me, uh, what's — what's going on?"

Sam and Dean flashed their badges, and Alex hurried to do the same, folding it back up and sliding it into her pocket before the man could study it too closely. "FBI," she explained. "What's your name?"

"Uh, Scott. Scott Freeman." Scott answered in a nervous tone, his hands shaking slightly.

"You said these were your mother's?" Sam asked, motioning towards the warded wooden box. "Where'd she get them?"

"I don't know," Scott insisted. "I found them in the back."

"Got it." Dean disappeared into the back room, and Alex followed, eyes immediately going to the two open chests that sat on the table.

She picked them up, fingers tracing over the intricate engravings, and her grace tingled. "Yeah, this is it," Alex confirmed as Dean picked them up, adding with a mutter. "Great."

"Sam!" Dean carried them back into the main room, a deep-set frown across his face.

Sam Winchester's face mimicked his brother's when he saw the empty boxes, and his voice grew harsh. "Scott? What was in those boxes?"

Scott looked between Sam and Dean, eyes widening in fear at their tones. "Okay, what the hell kind of FBI guys are you?"

"The kind that are trying to fix the mess that you started," Sam snapped. "Now where'd your mom get these?"

"I don't know. I found them in her safe." The man pointed past them into a room where a large, iron safe sat in the corner. The door was open, revealing more sigils painted in white, and Alex frowned.

"Did it ever occur to you that those things were locked in that safe for a reason?"

"No," Scott said defensively, "I — I just thought it was some of the junk she had collected over the years. Like, I knew she was into some weird stuff, but I never thought she'd be, like—"

"Yeah, well think again, okay? 'Cause this junk is killing people."

"What? How can that be?"

Sam shook his head. "Look, Scott. We're going to need to know exactly what you sold out of that safe and names and addresses to whom you sold it to."

...

Dean pulled the charger up alongside a two story home, and Alex jumped out of the car, pushing her grace out and into the home. "We're too late," she told the Winchesters as they started to get out of the car, shaking her head as she pulled her grace away from the soulless corpse. "Listen. You two go get the other things. I'll take care of what's here. What am I looking for?"

"Uh, she bought a tea kettle," Sam read from the list, pausing halfway out of the car.

"Tea kettle? Okay, got it. I'll meet you guys back at the antique store, okay?" When the Winchesters nodded and drove away, Alex hurried up the steps to the porch. Her grace snaked out and into the lock, pushing the pins upwards until the doorknob twisted and the door sprung open. The angel slipped inside the house, feet silent on the tile floors as she moved through the living room and into the kitchen. A woman lay on the floor, the same dead body Alex had originally felt. Her mouth and throat were red and raw, the skin badly burned. A tea kettle lay just out of her outstretched reach, and Alex's wings twitched at the heavy pressure that surrounded it.

She knelt down and picked it up, grace groaning out its protest as she did so. Then she dug out her cellphone and dialed 911. "Hey. I'd like to report a, uh, accident. Address is 23 Gorham Road." When the woman asked for her name, Alex replied. "My name?" she repeated, "Uh, yeah. My name is —" She hung up.

The angel made sure to lock the door on her way out, twisting the lock behind her as she jumped down the porch stairs. reaching the sidewalk she looked both ways before she crossed the street and started towards town.

She had just turned the corner when she heard sirens, and only a minute later two police cars sped passed, lights flashing and sirens screaming. The angel dug her phone out of her pocket and shoved in her headphones into her ears, doing her best to remain inconspicuous as she carried the large, cursed teapot down the street. Renegade by Styx started playing, and Alex sighed, focusing on the music as her feet carried her away.

...

Alex pushed her way into Going Out with the Old Antique Store just as the sun brushed the very tops of the buildings around her on its downward descent. "Scott?" she called as the door swung closed behind her. "Hey. I got the tea kettle." She crossed the room and opened the spell-bound box that housed the kettle. Once she had snapped the lid shut she looked around. "Scott?"

"Back room," came the reply, and Alex walked into the room see Scott Freeman knelt beside a handful of cardboard boxes.

"Hey," Alex repeated. "I got the kettle. What are you doing?"

"Just packing up some stuff." The older man glanced up at the angel for only a second. "My mom sold the shop before she . . . passed, so I need to start packing things."

Alex heard the tinge of pain in her voice, and her sympathy swelled up. "When did she die?"

"Last week."

"I'm sorry. I, uh, I lost someone close to me last month — closest thing to a father I've ever had." Alex looked over at the wall clock to see it was only a little past five o'clock. "Want some help?" she offered. "I'm stuck here until the other two get back. I know what I'm doing," she added. "I worked at an antique shop in Sioux Falls a few summers back."

Scott studied her for a second, trying to determine her motive before shrugging. "Sure," he finally agreed. "I suppose you can start packing up the sale records." He pointed to the file cabinet on the other side of the room before going back to his work.

"Sounds good." Alex grabbed a box and moved towards the metal cabinet. "My name's Alex, by the way." When Scott didn't respond she dug out her headphones, choosing to lose herself in her music instead.

...

The bell on the door jingled, announcing the arrival of Dean. Alex's grace brushed against his soul only momentarily before she pulled away, setting down the folders into the box and removing her headphones. "Dean?" she called, entering the main room.

The Winchester was already halfway to the safe; at her arrival he shot her a small nod. "How long have you been here?"

The angel shrugged. "Half hour, no more. Don't worry; I kept busy." She crossed the room to walk by his side. "What's that?"

"Cursed porn." Dean shifted the wooden box in his hands slightly. Before Alex could ask he added, "Trust me. You do not want to know."

"That sounds . . . disgusting." Alex stopped walking, choosing to lean against door frame as Dean went to put the box in the safe. "Well, I got the tea kettle anyways. The woman had apparently drunk boiling water or something. Not really sure, but she definitely had burns on her mouth and throat."

"Great. Well, Sam's getting the gramophone. That should be the last of it."

"So my mom wasn't just some whack job." Scott appeared behind Alex, and she pulled her wings in closer at his close proximity. "All this stuff is real?"

"Yep." Dean put the warded box in the safe next to the box with the tea kettle.

"Well, now I-I feel like crap."

"How come?"

"I kept pushing her to sell the store," the older man explained, features downcast. "She kept saying no, and I kept pushing her, you know, telling her how much money she'd make."

"You think you changed her mind?"

"I don't know. You know, this real estate lady kept coming around, and then one day, just like that, mom just says okay. Then she had the accident, never even got to enjoy the money."

Dean looked over at Alex. "How soon after?" he asked.

"The next day."

That caught Alex's attention, and she studied Scott. "How did she die?"

"Car crash. You know, I keep thinking, if I hadn't pushed her, then . . ." He trailed off, and Alex raised her eyebrows, glancing back at Dean.

The hunter nodded. "Hey, a little tip. Uh, feeling guilty ain't gonna bring 'em back. Best you can do is live your life the way that you think would make her proud. Or at least not embarrass the crap out of her." When Scott nodded, letting out a small smile, Dean added. "Oh, uh . . . you know the drill, right? Don't touch anything in those boxes. In fact, don't even go near the safe. Once we get it all boxed up, we'll get a UHaul and get everything out of here."

"Believe me, I — I got it."

Dean nodded. "Okay. Sam will be here soon with the gramophone. He's grabbing the U-Haul." He looked over at Alex. "Hungry?"

"Damn straight." Alex followed Dean out of the store and onto the empty street. She paused when Dean did, her gaze flitting across his face before turning her head to see what he was looking at. There was a Sold sign in the window. It was on a poster for Bicklebee Reality, with the picture of a dark-haired woman with the name "Joyce Bicklebee" on the lefthand side.

Alex watched as Dean continued down the street, looking this way and that, and she started to do the same, wings twitching curiously as she saw that the majority of the shops had that exact same sign. "That's weird," she finally said. "Looks like they're buying up the entire block." She shrugged it off and turned to Dean. "There's a diner a few blocks that way," she said, pointing down the street. "Let's go eat there." She circled around to the passenger seat of the Firebird. "I'm hungry."

...

The sky was dark by the time Alex was sitting beside Dean in a local cafe, scraping the last of her fry crumbs off of her plate. Dean was on his laptop, and the young angel was watching him look into this Bicklebee Reality business. She was just about to ask him if he had found anything when he pulled out his cellphone and called his brother. It rang twice before Sam picked up. "Hey, what's up? I'm on my way."

"Yeah, not sure we're taking the safe out of town just yet." A waitress walked up and poured Dean another cup of coffee, and he thanked her with a smile and a "Thanks." When she walked away he continued. "Um, so it turns out mama hoarder didn't just die and leave the store to Scott."

"She didn't?" Sam sounded tired, and Alex's wings twitched in sympathy.

"No, listen to this. The woman spends forty years trying to keep the place, right? Then one day, she wakes up and sells. Next day, drives her car over a cliff."

Sam grunted, agreeing that it sounded strange. "So, uh . . . what, you think somebody cut her brakes or something?"

"No, I think the world if full of hilarious coincidences. Oh, and there's this new company." Dean moved the mouse on his laptop in a quick circle to emphasis his point. "Never even tasted real estate, just gobbled up a huge chuck of Main Street. Now, I could be off the deep end here, but doesn't that seem weird to you?" He paused, waiting for Sam to respond. When his brother didn't he prompted. "Sam? Sam?"

"Yeah. Yeah yeah," came the weary reply. "Yeah, sounds good. Keep me posted."

"Sounds good?" Dean repeated. "Are you alright?"

The other Winchester hesitated a second before asking, "You know they say that, uh, sleep deprivation is an enhanced interrogation technique?"

"Yeah."

"Trust me, it's torture." Sam hung up, and the line went dead.

Dean looked over at Alex, whose eyes flickered up to meet his. "You catch all that?" he asked. When she nodded he added, "You sure there's nothing you can do for him?"

Alex shrugged. "I don't even know where to begin," she admitted. "Lucifer's got a pretty good grip on his noggin; he threw me out within seconds. I'll keep trying, but I'm at a loss here."

"Yeah, but can you call anyone?"

"Like who? Heaven's a bit busy picking up the pieces after Cas' little warpath. Crowley won't give a damn, and even then he'll be looking for something in return, and there's no way I'm standing in debt to the damn King of Hell unless I have to." Seeing the look on Dean's face she sighed. "This might be something Sam can get under control on his own. If it gets worse, I'll do what I have to."

Dean turned back to his computer, and Alex rested her head briefly against his shoulder as he dragged the cursor to the top of the screen and clicked on a small link that read Corporate Contact. He was immediately brought to a halt when the link failed. "Son of a bitch," he cursed under his breath.

Alex quickly read the message on the screen. " 'We're sorry, the site you're trying to access has been blocked.' That's weird." She looked at the logo on top of the words. "Geothrive Inc."

Dean flipped his phone back open and dialed another number, and Alex leaned closer as a tetchy voice answered, "This better be good."

"Frank, hey. I don't mean to double-dip in your crazy sauce, no offense —"

"None taken, fudge pop."

"That's Frank?" Alex asked, tipping her head to look up at Dean. "He's more grumpy than I imagined. A lot less intimidating."

"Who's that?" came the grumpy reply.

"She's not important," Dean promised, shifting the phone to his other ear. "I told you about Alex, right? Yeah. Anyways, I think I found something."

There was a pause, and then Frank prompted, "My silence is your cue, Dean."

"Alright. So, there's this new company that's buying up a whole bunch of these, uh, mom-n-pops in Portland, but I hit a firewall when I tried to access its site. Think you can crack it?"

"Can a dog play poker?"

Dean looked over at Alex who shrugged, shaking her head in a tentative 'no.' "I don't —"

"The answer is yes. What's the company's name?"

"Geothrive." Dean circled the logo with his cursor. "I — Frank?" He pulled the phone away from his ear and frowned. "Son of a bitch." He closed his phone and dropped it on the table beside him before closing the tab on his laptop.

"Huh. Sounds like a real charmer. How did you find him?" Before Dean could answer she added, "He's the guy Bobby sent you to after the doppelgängers, right?"

"Yeah." Dean closed his laptop and looked around the cafe. "You hungry?" he asked. "I could go for some pie."

He stood up, but Alex remained seated, dragging his laptop closer. "I'll take lemon," she told him. "Take your time." He shrugged and walked away, and Alex flipped the top up, typing in Dean's password — still Impala1979 — before pausing, thinking back to their earlier discussion. She grabbed pulled her phone out of her pocket and opened up her contacts, scrolling down to the one she never thought she'd actually come to use. "Does the King of Hell text?" she wondered, staring down at the number — honestly she shouldn't have been surprised to see that his number was 666. She clicked on the message icon, thumbs dancing over the keyboard as she thought of something to say, anything. Hey, she eventually ended up typing out, immediately feeling stupid even as she sent it.

She didn't even have time to close her phone before the reply popped up. This better be a bloody joke, kitten.

Alex flipped her phone shut and shoved it in her pocket, glancing around to make sure no one had seen her.

"My silence is your cue, Frank." Dean sat back down at the table, his phone back up against his ear.

Alex frowned. "Where's the pie?" Dean held up a finger to silence her and she huffed, focusing on the conversation at hand.

"Oh, touché," the man quipped. "So, you were trying to access the Geothrive internal site, and the reason you couldn't is cause, if you dig down deep, it's all Dick."

Alex snorted in amusement, but Dean seemed less impressed. "Yeah, well, that'd be helpful if you didn't say that about everything."

"Yeah, except I'm operating on hard-facts now, wise-ass."

"So you're telling me Geothrive is part of Roman Inc.?"

"It's a conglomerate with a subsidiary within a conglomerate," Frank agreed. "It's all tied together, Dean."

Dean shifted the phone to his other ear as he pulled his laptop back towards him. "So what, Leviathans are — are Walmarting mom-n-pops?"

"And bingo was his name-o."

"So we've got a big old field in Wisconsin and bunch of fucking shops in Portland? What the hell are they up to?" Dean looked at Alex, and the young angel shrugged. Her gaze was drawn out the window as a truck with a U-Haul attached pulled up into a parking space just outside the cafe.

"Beat me," Frank said. "All I know is it's corporate and smelly as the day is long. If I were you, I'd get out of Dodge, pronto."

Sam got out of the truck and Lucifer followed, mouth moving as he spoke. Alex didn't bother to listen to what he was saying, and Dean's exasperated, "People are dying here, Frank," drowned out anything she would have wanted to hear anyways.

She watched as Sam moved slowly towards the cafe door, and the young angel frowned to see how lethargic and slow he was moving. He entered the cafe, and Alex immediately rolled her eyes.

Your head is humming and it won't go, in case you don't know,
The piper's calling you to join him.

The devil's loud, incessant singing had Alex's head falling back against the chair in disbelief. Beside her, Dean continued on his conversation, none the wiser. "Well, we're not done here, okay, and, hey, we might get some answers."

Dear lady, can you hear the wind blow, and did you know
Your stairway lies on the whispering wind?

Sam sat down across from Dean, taking in a deep breath before asking, "So?"

"Well, that'll work," Dean muttered.

Sam looked at Alex, who was staring at Lucifer in the seat across from her, eyes narrowed in confusion as he didn't cease his singing. "Um, how's it going?" he tried again.

Dean took in a deep breath. "I just got of the phone with Frank," he explained. "Apparently we have a bit of a Leviathan issue in this town."

And as we wind on down the road
Our shadows taller than our soul.

"Leviathans? Here?"

"Yeah," Dean agreed and Sam leaned back in his chair, head lolling back in exasperation. "We're looking at a big, old, giant nesting doll of Dick, as far as property sales go."

Sam let out a long breath and glanced over at Lucifer who didn't even seem to notice, studying his blunt fingernails as he continued to loudly sing along to Led Zeppelin.

There walks a lady we all know
Who shines white light and wants to show

"Hey." Dean leaned forward in concern. "You hearing me?"

Sam blinked and looked back at his brother. "Yeah," he agreed. "Yeah, yeah yeah. I'm sorry."

"Okay, you know what? Enough with the insomnia crap, alright, Pacino? You need to crash. I'll keep working. You find a motel and get some sleep. Okay?"

How everything still turns to gold.
And if you listen very hard

Alex ran a hand through her hair, getting frustrated with the loud and obnoxious singing, and Sam shook his head wearily. "It doesn't matter what I do, Dean. Lucifer will not shut up."

"He's really hitting those high notes, isn't he?" Alex agreed, casting a scowl in the devil's direction.

"Why?" Dean looked between Sam and Alex. "What's he doing?"

"He's singing Stairway to Heaven right now," Sam explained.

The tune will come to you at last.
When all are one and one is all

"Good song."

To be a rock and not to roll.

"Not fifty times in a row."

And she's buying a stairway to —

Alex leaned forward and placed two fingers on Sam's head, grace flowing in and breaking part of her connection. She pulled back to see Lucifer's mouth stop moving, a frown growing across his face. Sam looked confused. "What did you do?"

"I muted him," Alex snapped. "That way I can't hear his stupid song —"

"— wasn't very nice." Lucifer crossed his arms and pouted in a childish fashion. Alex stared at him, eyes wide in confusion and mouth hanging open, and his own gaze darkened to as a more sinister intent slipped through his puerile facade. "You really think you can just mute me like that? The part of you's in Sam's head, and that is mine." He leaned forward, eyes flashing. "Nothing happens without my permission, understand?"

"What's happening?" Dean looked at Alex, then at his brother, then back down at Alex. "What? Everything okay?"

Sam opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment his phone rang, and he jumped to answer it, perplexity dancing across his exhausted face as he saw who it was. However, he answered it nonetheless. "Hey, Scott."

Alex steadily held Lucifer's cold gaze, wings flaring out in offense and fear, the gesture helping calm her nerves even in the devil couldn't see it. The cool confidence in his grin, however, was certainly not helping in the least.

"Let me guess," Dean said when Sam hung up the phone. "He touched something he wasn't suppose to." He pulled some cash out of his pocket and dropped it on the table to pay for their meal.

"Course he did." Sam got up, and Alex followed him and Dean out of the cafe. Lucifer walked by her side, humming Zeppelin once again, but Alex did her best to ignore him, even when his humming broke out into singing once again as they got into the truck.

There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold
And she's buying a stairway to heaven.
When she gets there she knows, if the stores are all closed
With a word she can get what she came for.
Ooh, ooh, and she's buying a stairway to heaven

Alex jumped out of the truck the minute Sam threw it into park, pausing when she reached the sidewalk that held Scott's antique shop. She immediately pulsed her grace out, trying to see if she could locate the cursed object before they got there, but what she felt had her reeling to a stop. "Guys. Wait."

Sam and Dean both looked back at her in confusion, and the angel's feathers ruffled in alarm. "It's a trap," she explained in a rushed voice. "There's Leviathan in there. Two of them; I can feel it."

"Well that's unexpected." Lucifer had one hand cupped against his cheek, watching her carefully. Alex ignored him.

"Shit." Dean looked over at his brother. "You got the stuff moved into the truck, right?"

"Well, yeah, but we don't have any borax."

"There's borax in the shop," Alex suddenly remembered. "I saw a bucket of it when I was helping pack up with Scott earlier. So we just need to get to that." She looked up at the two Winchesters. "Between the three of us I think we can manage."

Dean nodded, and Alex looked towards the shop. "You guys get the machetes, I'll head in first. Maybe distract them for a second or two." Before either Winchester could protest, she hurried up to the antique store door and rushed inside.

She immediately recognized the woman from the Bicklebee Reality sign on the shops outside. She wore a black shirt and a white blouse under a bright red jacket. A frown was on her face when she saw the angel. "You're not who I was expecting. It's Alex, right? Mm mm. I haven't seen you since we were all tucked inside that angel of yours. He really did love you, didn't he? Shame we had to put him down."

"Oh I am going to enjoy killing you," Alex promised, wings flaring out as she stalked forward. Her gaze flickered over to the second Leviathan; this one male, wearing the same red jacket with a light oxford and tie. He wasn't watching Alex, to her surprise, but his gaze was entirely focused on the woman.

The bell jingled as the Winchesters rushed into the store, pausing right behind Alex. "Hey," Dean said. "You — you're that lady from the real estate sign."

The woman's attention moved to the humans. "Sam and Dean," she greeted, and Alex stopped, wings still raised high in anger even as the Leviathan continued talking. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintances. Now, just so you can put names to the faces that'll be eating you, I'm Joyce, and this is my assistant, George." She nodded her head towards the second Leviathan who slowly approached. "But, yes, I am the woman from the sign. You like my photo?"

"Oh, you might want to lay off the whitening strips," Dean quipped, stepping forward to stand by Alex's side, and Joyce laughed.

"Oh, Dean. I am gonna enjoy picking you out of my teeth." She threw her head back and it morphed into the toothed wyrm-like shape of a Leviathan. She lunged towards Dean, who barely spun out of the way in time. Joyce's arms locked around his waist, and Alex sprang towards them, barreling into the Leviathan. She heard Sam and George struggling behind her as she knocked Joyce to the ground.

The Leviathan snarled and pinned Alex to the ground, eyes dark, and then Dean was there, bringing a heavy vase down on her head. Alex used the distraction to scramble away, wings flaring as she lashed out with her foot to catch Joyce in the chin, knocking her head upwards. Joyce jumped to her feet and wrapped her fingers in Dean's jacket, sending him flying into a bookcase. Glass shattered, and Alex's angel blade fell into her hand, grace pushing into the dark, twisted creature to get it's attention.

She heard a sizzle and a burn behind her, but didn't dare look, digging her feet into the ground and squaring her shoulders as the Leviathan lunged at her. Hands grabbed at her jacket and Alex lashed out, and a high-pitched cry was torn from her throat as a hand grabbed hers and squeezed, and the bone in her left wrist shattered. The angel blade fell from her limp grasp, and Alex yanked herself free from the Leviathan's hold. Something solid connected with her stomach and Alex doubled over. An elbow came down on her back, and Alex fell to the ground.

Joyce held Alex's blade in her hands, standing over the young angel. Alex glared back up at her, cradling her wrist as the Leviathan spoke. "You know," she said scornfully, "It's been a long time since I've been able to eat an angel. I —"

Joyce's head slid off of her body to reveal Sam, a long sword in hand. Alex rolled out of the way as the body collapsed, wincing as she rolled onto her injured arm. "Thanks," she panted out, sitting up.

"You okay?"

"I'll live, if that's what you mean." Alex looked down at her wrist to see that the hand itself was awkwardly twisted. "Well fuck." She tenderly gripped her palm, wincing at the bone-sharp pain that shot up her forearm.

"Hey hey hey." Sam knelt down beside her. "Don't touch it, alright?"

"Well I kind of have to touch it in the next five minutes otherwise it's gonna heal gimp like this," the angel snapped back, wings curling around her as she tried to protect herself from the pain. "Just give it a twist, okay?" She held out her hand. "Sam, please." Her gaze slid past the hunter, and she suddenly scrambled to her feet. "The hell?"

George stood behind them, face calm, watching. "I can help," he suggested, stepping forward, but paused when Sam held out the sword. "She's right about the healing, you know," he said instead, watching as Alex slithered back to the ground with a loud groan. "You should probably realign the bones before they start healing."

"Why's he still kicking?" Alex snapped as Dean knelt down beside her, cutting off in a hiss as he gingerly took her wrist in his hands. She gave him a quick nod, clenching her teeth when he twisted the bones back into place. She bit back a cry, instead letting out a strangled, "Mother of my lord and savior that fucking hurt." Her grace rushed into her hand, slowly knitting back together the bone, and Alex slowly pulled herself to her feet.

Dean quickly moved across the room to untie Scott, who had been gagged and duct taped to an antique chair. Alex grabbed Joyce's head by the hair, and, not knowing what else to do with it, carried to over to the safe and tossed it inside. When she looked back up, Sam and Dean were in deep discussion with the store owner. "Okay," he was saying, "I get that these things mean business you know, but I can't just, like, uproot my life."

"Sure you can," Dean promised. "It's not as hard as you would think."

"Look, Scott. These big mouths don't like to leave loose ends." Sam glanced over at Alex when she grunted in agreement, skirting around the headless body in disgust. He turned his attention back to George, who was just standing by the desk, waiting.

Dean added, "So don't look back till you get someplace where you don't speak the language."

Scott looked between Sam and Dean, and then over at Alex. She nodded, and with a reluctant nod of his own head, he gave in. "Alright. I'm going. Thanks, I guess." He moved towards the door.

"Don't mention it," Sam called after him, shifting the sword in his hands as George stepped towards them. His voice immediately grew cold. "One minute," he demanded. "That's how long you have to explain to us why you helped us."

The Leviathan looked between the two Winchesters before finally speaking. "Because I'm dying to know what that bitch tastes like."

Alex tipped her head, and Dean blinked. "Wait, let me get this straight. You want to eat your boss?"

"You got a better way to make her stay dead?" The Leviathan's eyebrows rose at the question, and Alex couldn't help the strange feeling at the thought that this ancient, dead creature vaguely resembled Gabriel.

"So what? So now you're — you're on our side of something?"

"Yeah. No." The Leviathan shook his head, swiftly dismissing Sam's ridiculous proposal, shrugging off his red blazer and folding it over the counter. "But if Joyce is alive, then I spend the rest of my life cleaning her messes. Or worse, I get eaten." He loosened his tie before adding, "Or bibbed." The Leviathan dramatically shuddered before clapping his hands together. "So thanks . . . for chopping her head off for me. Taking her on solo — yikes. So, really, thanks for the assist there. And, of course," he added, turning to Dean, "you are welcome . . . . for saving you . . . before she ripped into your ass like a Christmas present." Dean glared at the Leviathan, who clicked his tongue and winked. "Win-win, right? So how bout that head?"

Alex watched as Sam and Dean exchanged looks, and then Dean said, "Yeah. Not gonna happen, Georgie." Sam held up the sword, pressing the blade into the Leviathan's neck, and George raised his head slightly to stretch away from the sharp edge, face growing displeased. "Now . . . what the hell is Dick Roman building in Wisconsin?"

George looked over at Alex, and the angel just shrugged. He shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted. "I barely know where Wisconsin is. I'm a West Coast representative."

"You gonna keep killing people who don't sign on the dotted line?" Sam added with a challenge, and the Leviathan's gaze flickered up to him.

"Alright, take it easy." He reached up, and Alex narrowed her eyes as he brushed his finger across the black goo before sticking his finger into his mouth. "Mmm." He removed his finger and looked between the brothers as he slowly pushed the sword away. "Killing people isn't part of the agenda," he explained. "Joyce just kept getting impatient. You — you got nothing to worry about with me. Don't you get it? You guys are freaking out about the wrong thing."

"Oh, you think?" Dean scoffed.

"A couple of real estate deals?" George quipped back. "Come on. Big picture, guys. You — you think it's just here? It's everywhere. And it's a lot more ambitious than this little project. My advice — keep your heads down and stay down."

Dean didn't look convinced, and he took a half-step closer, voice growing dark. "Listen to me, you gooey son of a bitch. You're gonna tell us what you're building here, or I'm gonna wash your mouth out with soap."

George looked over at the bucket, and then at Alex, who shrugged. "I'd do what he says," she agreed. "They get a bit violent when they're pissy like this. "

"Hmm." The Leviathan frowned. "I was hoping we could play nice. But if you must know . . . it's going to be a research center."

"Research?" Alex repeated, taking a step forward. "Research for what?"

"Disease." A smile formed across the Leviathan's face. "This, gentlemen, is where we're going to cure cancer."

"Wait." Sam's face mimicked Alex's internal confusion. "That doesn't make any sense. I mean, why would Dick Roman want to cure cancer?"

"Cause we're only here to help."

Alex let out a scoffing noise. "Right," she agreed. "I have a feeling eating everyone's really going to help us." She looked up at Sam and Dean before sighing. "I say we let him go," she finally said. Before Sam and Dean could protest she explained, "He's got a point. Whatever's going on here, it's way bigger than just this town. Wasting our time and resources with him is only going to put us further behind. I'd say let him eat his boss and then get out of his hair."

"Thank you." George peered past them at the body of his boss still laying on the ground. "I'll take my boss, you can have the safe, and we each go our separate ways. No harm done. Win-win." Sam and Dean exchanged looks, still not convinced, and he added, "Or if you prefer, I could eat you. It's your choice."

"Dean, let's just go." Alex reached out, putting a hand on his arm to draw his gaze over to her. "I know this sounds stupid, but I think we can trust this guy, okay? Not to mention he's actually proposing a solution where we get out alive? As long as he doesn't start killing again, there's no point in taking him out too. Dick's just going to keep sending in more replacements; we have to focus on the source."

Dean reluctantly nodded. "Yeah, yeah, okay. Fine. I don't like it, but you're right." He stepped back, giving the Leviathan a straight path to Joyce's body. "We'll be back in the morning for the safe. You better not be here, you understand?"

"Don't you worry. I'll be long gone." George brushed past Dean before adding, "And, as always, you're welcome."

"Come on." Alex picked up her angel blade and let her grace drag it back up into her sleeve as George made his way across to the safe. "Let's just get out of here, okay? I need a nap."

...

Alex did manage to grab an hour or two of sleep just before the milky rays of dawn rose above the trees. She was woken by a loud voice. "Morning, Sammy-boy. Rise and shine!"

Alex groaned and rolled over to see the devil standing at the foot of the bed. "If you don't shut up I swear to our Father I will rip your wings off," she growled.

Lucifer just chuckled, siding towards her. "Pas enay," he grinned playfully, "I'd like to see you try." He snapped his fingers, and Sam's bed caught fire, the flames crackling in the chill morning air. The hunter jumped up in surprise, and the fire died. "I got bored," he explained, turning to the hunter. "Come on, Sam. Talk to me. The damage is already done; what harm is a little chat?"

Sam ran a hand down his face, and Alex reluctantly sat up. "Maybe you could try going for a run?" she suggested. "I bet you're faster than him. And it might wake you up."

The hunter yawned, covering his mouth with his hand in a vain attempt to stifle it. "Yeah," he relented. "Maybe later. I think I might just go get some coffee first. Maybe bring back breakfast." He walked towards the door, hands coming up to run through his uncombed hair. "Want anything?"

"I'm good." Alex watched him pull on his shoes, ignoring the devil as he began up his early morning monologue. "Oh, and Sam? I'm going to fix you, okay? I don't care if I have to go to hell and back. I'm going to make this right."