Desolation Comes Upon the Sky

by casti3l

Five years ago, Dean hit a teenage girl who fell from the sky. Now, Sam has hit a dog. And Alex? Well, she's hit rock bottom. But the return of Castiel might be the thing that finally make things right. And for once, it finally seems like everything is going well. But that rarely goes as planned. Part 3 of the I See Fire series.

36. thinman

August 3rd, 2014
Lebanon, Kansas

Alex opened up her eyes to find herself surrounded by cold, damp darkness. She shivered, and as her mind awoke and her eyes adjusted, she realized that she was lying in her bed. Her hair and clothes were damp, and she rolled over with a groan of confusion and pain. The clock read 4:58 p.m.

Alex pulled herself up on shaky legs and stumbled out into the hall. "Sam?" she called. "Dean?" She passed the Winchesters' rooms and made her way into the library. "Sam."

Sam Winchester was seated at the tables, his head bowed as he stared at his laptop. At the sound of his name, he looked up in surprise, and his eyes widened. "Alex? You're, uh, you're up. How are you feeling?"

"Like I was hit by a train." Alex sank down into the chair across from him, her head falling into her hands. "What the hell happened? All I remember is that everything was felt like it was on fire."

"You passed out, and yeah, you were burning up. We had to put you in an ice bath just to bring your temperature down." Sam closed his laptop so he could look her in the eyes. "You had us scared. What happened?"

Alex reached down inside of her, searching for anything, but there was nothing that she could feel. "I think … I think the last of my grace burned up. I can't feel it anymore." She looked down at her hands as her fingers tingled at the memory. "I used it all up protecting Kevin." She looked back up, gaze sweeping the room. "Is he gone?"

"Yeah. They left this morning. They send their thanks, by the way."

"They didn't need to." Alex pushed herself to her feet, wincing as a sharp twinge ran up her leg; a quick look down showed bruising on her calf from where she had fallen. "Where's, uh, where's Dean?"

"No idea. He might be in his room."

"Thanks." Alex got to her feet and walked away, following the hall down to Dean's room. She found the hunter beside his bed, throwing his clothes into his duffle bag. "Going somewhere?"

The Winchester looked up at the sound of her voice. "Hey, champ. How are you feeling?" When Alex only shrugged, he dropped his gun on top of his things. "I caught wind of a case. You want in?"

Alex scoffed, surprised that he had bothered to ask. "Of course. I don't think I ever unpacked from our last trip." She stepped out of her room but stumbled, barely catching herself against the far wall.

"You okay?" Dean leaned out with a frown, and Alex took a moment to straighten her shirt as she nursed her pride. "If you're not well enough, you should probably —"

"I'm fine. I'm coming with." Alex brushed back her hair with a loud scoff, annoyed at the Winchester's words. "Just give me a few minutes to get my sea legs back, okay, captain?" She watched doubt flicker across Dean's gaze before he shrugged and stepped back into his room.

Alex returned to hers to find her bag sitting, still mostly full, in the corner of the room. The only thing out of place was her angel blade, which now lay on the ground, and Alex bent over to pick it up. There was no rush of grace at the touch, and the metal remained cool in her hands. Alex tossed it back onto her things; if there was any grace left within her, it was too weak to even make its presence known.

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Alex returned to the hallway to find Dean closing his door behind him. "You sure you're feeling good enough to come along?" he asked again, and Alex rolled her eyes.

"Yeah. I've been in worse conditions than this as of late. I'll be fine." Alex followed him down the hall, adjusting her bag as they crossed through the library where Sam still sat.

"All right," Dean called, passing by his brother and making his way towards the stairs. "We'll be back."

Sam looked up in surprise, eyes wide at the sight of the two hunters, packed and ready to leave. "Whoa, whoa. Wait. Where you headed?"

"Washington. I caught a case." Dean paused, glancing back at his brother with a shrug.

"Oh. You … you want me to come with?"

"I have Alex." Dean jerked a finger towards her, and Alex gave Sam a small wave as Dean turned, about to leave again before he glanced back. "Why? Do you want to come?"

"On a hunt? Why wouldn't I?" Sam pushed his chair back, ready to stand up. "Why didn't you ask me first? Alex just woke up from — from who knows what?"

"I don't know, man. Cause lately with you, up is down and down in sideways, you know? I-I — I don't know what you want." Dean's words were met with a glare, and the Winchester sighed as he walked over to the table. "Okay. You want in? Fine. Sure thing." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a newspaper article that he had printed out. "Photo leaked from the crime scene. Girl was murdered in her room, doors were locked, the windows were locked."

Alex dropped her bag, and she joined the brothers to peer over Sam's shoulder at the selfie of the teenage girl, and her eyebrows lifted as the sight of a tall, skinny, faceless man in a suit standing in the shadows behind her. "Who's the wallflower?" Sam asked, handing the photo back.

"Exactly." Dean stuffed it into his pocket. "Best guess — ghost caught on film. So, you're coming?"

"Does it look like I'm staying?" Sam got to his feet and gathered up his laptop with a shake of his head. "Give me five minutes to pack. I'll meet you at the car." He hurried away, and Alex picked her things back up, watching as Dean rolled his eyes and led the way up the stairs and out to the car.

...

Springdale, Washington

A chilly breeze rustled through the leaves above her head as Alex followed Sam and Dean up the driveway of a white suburban house. She pulled the sleeves of her suit coat down over her hands at the cold, stifling a shiver as Dean reached up to ring the doorbell. They were at the home of the deceased girl, having driven nonstop from Lebanon, and the ex-angel impatiently awaited to be invited inside.

The door opened after a second or two, revealing a pale, middle-aged woman. Her dull, grief-filled eyes darted between the three of them, and after a moment she hesitantly asked, "Can I help you?"

"Mrs. Miles? I'm Agent Malloy. These are my coworkers Agent Roth and Hudson." Sam motioned to both Dean and Alex in turn, and the ex-angel reached into her pocket to produce her falsified identification as both Winchesters did the same. "I believe we spoke earlier on the phone."

"Oh, of, of course. Come in." Mrs. Miles waved the three inside, and Alex gratefully stepped over the threshold. The door closed behind her, and Mrs. Miles folded her hands in front of her. "I suppose you three would like to see Casey's room."

Dean nodded, and Sam quickly added, "If you don't mind."

"This way." The woman led them up the stairs and down the hall to the room at the far end. The scent of soap and bleach filled the air, and the carpet around the open closet was stained a deep red. "I scrubbed for hours," Mrs. Miles whispered. "I'll have to rip the carpet up. My daughter, Casey … she picked the color out herself."

"We're …. very sorry for your loss." Sam turned to face her, and Alex moved around the room, taking in the array of photos and memorabilia that lined the shelves. Dean moved beside her, and Alex heard the faint buzz of an EMF detector, stifled by the Winchester's hand. "You mentioned Casey had no known enemies on the phone. What about at home? Anything unusual you may have noticed? Uh, electricity acting up or lights … flickering. TV on the fritz?"

"No, no fritzing. No cold spots either."

Her words gave Alex pause, and the young hunter turned in surprise to face the middle-aged woman. "Cold spots?" she repeated. "What makes you mention cold spots?"

"I'm sorry." Mrs. Miles ducked her head, embarrassed by what she had accidentally let slip. "That must sound strange, but … it's been three days since …" She shook her head. "And the police have found nothing. I'd h— I'd have to sell my house to afford a private investigator, so when the Supernaturalists called —"

"Whoa," Dean interrupted. "Uh, sorry, the, um … supernaturalists?"

"I know to the FBI it's not exactly orthodox. But these men had answers that no one else had, and I — I owe it to Casey … to listen."

Sam and Dean exchanged looks, and Alex frowned, puzzled at who the woman was speaking of; no hunters she knew had ever used such a guise. "Now, they," Sam began, "they brought up cold spots in relations to…"

"Signs of the paranormal, I suppose." Mrs. Miles gave a small shrug. On a second thought, she added to the brothers, "They're coming by today to take a look."

Sam's lips set in a tight line, and Alex stepped forward to stand at Dean's side. "And these … these supernaturalists. Did they give you a name?"

"They … they called themselves the Ghostfacers?" Mrs. Miles looked over at Dean when the Winchester coughed in surprise. "I've never heard of them, but they said they could help."

"Yeah, I bet they did." Dean's dark word were muttered too quietly for the woman to hear, and he cleared his throat before he spoke up. "Alright. We're going to go down to the police station and see what they have learned. If you have any questions, or if anything happens, feel free to give us a call. We'll be in contact."

Alex followed the brothers down the stairs and out the front door. "Ghostfacers?" she repeated as the door swung closed behind them. "As in 'Ghost! Ghostfacers!'? I totally forgot about those guys." She was surprised to find both Winchesters staring down at her, and her eyes narrowed. "What?"

"You're telling me you couldn't remember details about the damn apocalypse, but you still know that?"

Alex shrugged, defensive against Dean's tone. "Maybe. I — It's catchy." She climbed into the back seat of the Impala before adding, "But we're definitely talking about those people? I thought they got out of the business once that one gay dude died." The brothers exchanged looks once more, and she frowned. "Guys. What?"

"Forget it." Dean started the car and guided it down the road. "Ann said they weren't coming until later, right? Let's grab a bite, swing by the station, and wait for them to roll into town."

"Yeah, sounds good to me," Alex agreed as the Impala sped across an intersection. "It shouldn't be hard to find them in a town this size. I mean, there's probably, what? One motel within ten miles?"

She chuckled, but neither of the Winchesters noticed. They were both staring at a parking lot of a diner, and Alex followed their gazes to a large, white van. Dean parked the Impala on the curb and killed the engine, and with a frown of confusion, Alex followed them up to the van. A skull was painted in black on the side, and beside it were black, bold letters that spelled out 'GHOSTFACERS.' "Son of a bitch." Dean muttered the curse under his breath, and he led his way into the diner.

Two men sat in a booth off to the right; one ginger with a short, stylish beard, and the other scrawny and clean-shaven. Both were deep in conversation as they stared down at their phones. "Yeah," one was saying. "Uh, it — it could a platonic … arm that's touching her."

Dean and Sam marched across the room and slid into the booth beside them, effectively boxing them in, and Alex pulled up a wooden chair, straddling it as she looked between the two men.

The bearded man glared at Dean across from him. "Ah, the Winchesters," he said, voice laced with sarcasm. "Yay."

"Says nobody," his partner added in, and the man added, "Ever."

"All right, shut up and listen." Dean's voice was low and dangerous, but the Ghostfacers simply rolled their eyes. "This is how it's gonna go. You two clowns are gonna get into that mystery machine outside, and you're gonna leave town or I'm gonna put holes in your knees."

"Can I get you guys anything?" A tall waiter approached, looking down at the five of them. "Something, uh —"

"I think we'll just take the bill, thanks." Dean waved him away, turning back to the two men. Behind her, Alex heard the harsh criticism of the manager to the waitress who had just spoken to them, and she turned her head briefly to watch him rebuke the young man on his work, but after a second she turned back, more interested in the pair before her.

"First of all," the man beside Sam was saying, "you guys don't scare us," and his bearded friend chimed in, "Not at all." Alex rolled her eyes, and the first man lifted his shirt to reveal a mini pistol. "Say hola to my little pistola."

Alex scoffed, drawing the men's attention to her. "Is that supposed to be impressive? Because mine is bigger." She pointed down towards her hip where her own Colt sat snugly against her side, and her hand dropped down to rest on the grip.

"Yeah, well… size isn't everything, you know."

"Only people with small guns say that." Alex returned her hand to the table, smirking as Dean let out a low, single chuckle of amusement. His approval spurred her on, and she asked, "Okay, Larry and Curly. Why are you here?"

The two Ghostfacers scoffed. "Uh, that's not our names. I'm Harry." The dark-haired man motioned to his bearded compatriot. "This is Ed. And who are you? I didn't know the Winchesters were picking up strays."

He and Ed exchanged fist bumps, pleased with his wit, and the young hunter rolled her eyes. "Alex. Ex-angel. Nice to meet you. Get out of town."

"Ex-angel? You mean like, like a …" Harry trailed off, and he and Ed exchanged looks of surprise and confusion before both scoffed, and Alex narrowed her eyes angrily. "You know what? Look. Whether you guys like it or not, we are handling this situation."

Ed nodded. "Yup."

"Really?" Dean frowned when Ed hummed in agreement, and he snapped, "Because I see a couple of fame whores who are pointing their cameras at a mom who just lost their kid."

Both Ghostfacers frowned at Dean's harsh implications. "Guys," Ed began with a deep breath, "we are investigators, and we have every right —"

"No." Dean cut him off. "No, you don't. You know why? 'Cause you're just gonna get in our way."

"Or get somebody else killed," Sam added, and even Alex widened her eyes at the younger Winchester's brazen comment.

"That's right," his brother agreed. "So, you can either walk out of here … or crawl." His hand moved downwards towards his gun, his threat painfully clear. "Up to you."

"Oh my God, Menudo." Harry's head tipped back in exasperation, completely unfazed by the sharp and pointed words. "Will you guys relax? We know what we're doing." His companion gave a hearty agreement, and the two exchanged pleased looks.

Dean, however, remained skeptical. "Really? And what about the rest of the Bad News Bears, huh? Where's the — where's the fat one?" He looked around the diner, and Alex followed his gaze, but there was no one nearby fitting his description. "And — and the girl? There was a girl, right?" He looked at Sam, and his brother gave a nod.

"They —" Ed began, but he cut off, glancing at Harry. "We dropped them," he finally said. "They were — they were dead weight."

"Well t-they're still alive," Harry quickly added.

Ed's eyes went wide as he realized what his words had accidentally implied. "They're — no, they're still alive," he wholeheartedly agreed.

"I see." Dean didn't look wholly convinced. "So, it's just the, uh, the dumpy duo, then. Well, that's great. So here's the deal." His voice hardened once again. "A ghost … will land you two dead in five seconds flat."

"A ghost?" Harry chuckled, glee in his eyes as he stared at the two Winchesters. "Oh. They think it's a ghost. It's so not a ghost." He grinned over at Ed, who agreed with a loud, "No."

Alex pursed her lips, not fond of their mockery. "Okay, hotshots," she snapped, leaning forward to glare at the two. "We'll bite. What exactly do you think we're dealing with?"

"Can I — can I do it this time?" Harry looked over at Ed, and when the bearded man nodded, he grinned, turning back to Sam and Dean. "Okay. I've waited all my life for this. Amazon me, bitches."

Dean's eyes darkened, his face twisted beyond annoyance. "I will shoot you," he retorted. "Bitches."

Sam cleared his throat, sensing that his brother was at the end of his rope. "Like we were saying, you were just going, right? Great." He got up, and Alex pushed the chair back as she rose to her feet, the chair legs scraping loudly against the floor.

"Good talk." Dean stormed out, and Alex and Sam followed, pushing their way through the doors and out towards the Impala. "Son of a bitch." The Winchester kicked at a rock as he made his way over to his car, shaking his head in disgust. "I swear if they're not out of here by tonight, I'm shooting them."

Sam and Alex exchanged looks, and the young hunter pulled open the door to the backseat. "Whoa. That seems a bit harsh … maybe." Her eyes met Dean's in the rearview mirror, and she quickly looked away. "Sorry. Forget I said anything." Dean threw the car into drive, and Alex reached for her seatbelt as they drove away.

...

"Uh … Dean?" Sam's voice had Alex looking up, shoving the last of her folded clothes into her bag that sat on the motel bed. They had returned to their room after grabbing a quick lunch, and Sam had made a beeline for the table the second they had stepped across the threshold.

"Yeah?" Dean shrugged off his suit coat and rolled up the sleeves of his oxford as he meandered closer to his brother, head tipped in curiosity.

Sam looked up from his laptop, a look of shock and barely-disguised horror etched into his face. "Ed and Harry wrote a book. Yeah," he added at Dean's noise of surprise. "Uh, 'The Skinny on Thinman,' by America's foremost supernaturalists."

"What the hell's a Thinman?" Dean grumbled as he sat down across from his brother, and Alex hurried across the room to see what Sam meant.

"I don't know." Sam was looking down at a supernatural forum, where a black-and-white picture of a runner was on display. In the background stood a tall, faceless man in a black suit, barely hidden from view. "Whoa. Check that out, though. That does kind of look like whatever was behind Casey Miles, right?"

He turned the laptop around so his brother could see, and Dean studied it for a second before he scoffed. "Or Garth if somebody shaved his face off," he added. "Big whoop."

Sam ignored Dean's crack. "Here we go. Uh, Thinman. An urban legend started on the world wide web, lurks in the background of his victims lives until he's ready to kill them."

"Yeah, because everything started on the internet is true." Dean rolled his eyes before rolling up a sleeve that had slipped down as he looked around the room. He stood up and made his way to the fridge. "Like, uh, oh, the shark attacking a helicopter — they write a book on that one too?"

Alex laughed, but Sam just shook his head, lips pursed to find his brother not taking things seriously. "Dude, real or not, thousands of people have posted to this site. It's like the Thinman is the new Bigfoot or something."

"Or Thinman is a ghost with a brand name." Dean pulled out a lukewarm beer, cracking it open with a shrug.

Sam leaned back in his chair, frowning as he met his brother's eyes. "You saying that cause you really think its a ghost or because you don't like the Ghostfacers?" he asked.

Dean echoed his brother frown, and he looked over at Alex; the young hunter gave a small shrug. "I mean," she began, "we did find EMF in Casey's room … but that's not exactly proof, Dean. A lot of things can create EMF."

"Exactly." Sam gave her an appreciative nod. "Like how the house was right next door to power lines, which can affect the read."

"A girl died in a locked room, Sam." Dean crossed the floor in two steps and sat down across from his brother. "Spells 'ghost' right there."

"Maybe it got there before it was locked up," Sam countered, and Dean scoffed. "Who knows, Dean? But how can people all over the world see the same ghost? Spirits don't exactly hop around."

"I know that. But right now, the veil is all kinds of screwed, okay? Ghosts could be popping up anywhere."

Sam looked over at Alex, hoping for help, but the ex-angel shrugged, unopinionated and unsure who she should side with. "Yeah, but Dean," he tried, "Thinman sightings date back a couple years. The veil's only been a problem for, what, the last six months?"

Dean reached down and pulled his laptop out of his bag, placing onto the table with a thud. "Well, you know, people still see Elvis all over the damn place," he muttered as he logged on, pausing to look up as the computer thought. "Look, all I'm saying is those douche-wheels ain't experts on crap."

"And we're not saying that they are," Alex agreed. "We're just … even blind squirrels are right twice a day, you know?" Dean grunted, and she leaned closer, trying to catch a glimpse of his screen. "What are you doing?"

"I'm checking the local deaths to see if there's any candidates for ghosts." Dean's keyboard clicked under his fingertips, and Alex drummed her nails on the tabletops as she looked over at Sam with a shrug. The Winchester sighed, turning back to his own computer, and Alex got to her feet to retrieve her own which was still laying on the motel bed. She dropped down on the mattress and pulled her laptop open, and all of Bobby's notes popped up, one after another, until he desktop was hidden from view.

She siphoned through the tabs, settling on one full of her own personal comments, and her face furrowed as she stared at the ancient runes Bobby had haphazardly translated. "Okay." Dean broke the silence, and Alex glanced up, hastily closing her laptop as Dean looked between her and his brother. "All right, over the past six months, there have been three unnatural deaths in Springdale, none of them connected to Casey Miles, and none of them violent."

"Okay, that's not exactly a recipe for a vengeful spirit." Sam glanced down at his own computer screen, and he cleared his throat. "There have been a bunch of unexplained deaths pinned on Thinman," he began, scrolling down through his research. "Um, a vic dies, then, a couple weeks later, a photo pops up of the vic with Thinman photobombing."

"So, Thinman's stalking folks?" Dean scoffed at the idea, but his tone left room for persuasion.

"According to the lore, yeah." Alex spoke up, eager to get a word in before the conversation developed far past her knowledge.

"According to the idiots," Dean countered with a glance back at her, an arm slung over the back of his chair. "How come none of these vics pinged our radar?"

Sam shrugged. "I'm pretty sure the mysterious deaths can be chalked up to non-supernatural causes. That and, honestly, most of these photos look pretty fake." He turned his laptop so Dean could see, and Alex got up to join them, curious at the images Sam had discovered.

He turned it away before Alex could see, and Dean grunted in suspicion. "Even Casey's?"

"Except Casey's." Sam pulled up Casey's selfie, and Alex leaned up against his chair as she stared down at the pale, faceless monstrosity in the shadows. "Casey's photo wasn't doctored. Whatever was behind her was really there."

"Okay, well, that doesn't make any sense. I mean, how could something be both real and fake at the same time?"

"Guys. It's got to be a Tulpa." Alex sank down into her chair. "Internet-rumor-come-to-life pretty much fits the profile." She frowned as she looked up at Sam. "Those things are damn near impossible to kill, though, right?"

"Not always, but yeah, they can be tricky." Sam shrugged as he nodded to his brother. "Could be a Tulpa, yeah."

"Maybe." Dean echoed his brother's shrug. "Okay, so the last thing Casey did was take a photo on her phone. How did that photo end up online?"

"No clue." Sam typed something into his search bar, a frown upon his face. "It was originally posted to a Thinman fan forum, but the I.P. address was blocked."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait." Dean looked up, his green eyes wide with surprise and disgust. "This thing has fan?" Alex and Sam exchanged glances, and the Winchester's shoulders fell. "Of course it does. Okay, well, then somebody wanted this photo on the internet, and I'm guessing that the ghost didn't hop online to post it."

"Well, who would have posted it?" Alex looked over at Sam, her head tipping. "Maybe one of Casey's friends? Or did she maybe post it to Facebook or something?" She frowned, shaking her head. "No. She would have noticed him in the background. She would have freaked out and called the cops, not posted to social media."

"Well, I guess we could head down to the station." Sam closed his laptop and rose to his feet, reaching for his jacket that hung on his chair. "If we can take a look at her phone, then we can find out where the photo went."

"Sounds good to me." Dean fished the Impala's keys out of his pocket and strode towards the door. "Maybe the sheriff will be able to shed some light on this whole thing." He disappeared out into the street, and with a shrug, Sam and Alex followed.

...

The police station was small and quaint, located on the corner of the town's main street. Inside, the building was as quiet as the town, and Alex looked around for any sign of the staff. The only person beside the hunters was a man standing behind the desk, his attention on his desktop. He looked up when the door closed behind them, and he straightened up, surprised at the strange visitors. "Hello. How can I help you?"

"Hi. Agents Malloy, Roth, and Hudson." Sam motioned to himself and his companions in turn, flashing his fake badge before he shoved it back into his jacket pocket. "We're in town regarding the death of Casey Miles. You are ..?"

"Sheriff Deputy Tom Norwood." The man extended a hand towards Sam. "I didn't realize the FBI was involved in something like this."

"We like to be thorough. Can we see the case files?" Norwood nodded and disappeared around the corner, and Dean looked around the empty police station. "Is the, uh, sheriff around?" he asked when the deputy returned with the box in hand. "There's a couple questions we'd like to ask him."

"Uh, sorry to disappoint." Tom Norwood set the box down on the counter and slid it over to the Winchesters. "Sheriff's on a hunting trip. But, uh, I appreciate you agents being here. I could use all the help I can get."

Sam opened up the box and dug inside, and Alex watched as a frown grew across his face as he pulled out Casey's white phone. "Wait a second, Was this cracked when you found it?" Sam turned the phone so everyone could see, showing off how the screen was shattered beyond repair.

"Yeah, man. Maybe she dropped it?" Deputy Norwood shrugged, not finding the same significance in the destruction. "911 call went dead at 11:59."

"Wait, what time was the photo posted?" Dean muttered to his brother, turning away slightly so the sheriff couldn't hear.

"Around 2:00 a.m," Sam responded.

"But the coroner has the death at midnight." Dean's eyes shone with confusion. "How could she have posted the photo from her phone?" He looked down at Alex, but the young hunter could only shrug. "That — that's impossible."

"Or … supernatural." Norwood spoke up, drawing all three's attention onto him.

"What?" Dean asked, while Sam quickly added, "Why would you say that?"

The deputy shrugged again. "A couple fellas came by, uh, asking questions about the girl's death, suggested they might be able to help," he explained. "They, uh, gave me a book they wrote about, um …"

"Thinman?" Dean's voice was flat, and Norwood snapped his fingers together at the name.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Just …" He trailed off as Dean turned around and walked away, his shoulders hunched in fury, and the deputy turned his attention onto Sam and Alex. "Not a fan?"

"You could say that." Alex's phone rang, and the ex-angel jumped to answer it. "Excuse me. One of my contacts." She met Sam's gaze, and the hunter nodded in understanding. Alex hurried towards the door, pressing her phone up against her ear. "Cas?" The name came out as hiss as she pushed her way outside. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Puzzlement lined the seraph's voice. "How are you?"

"Dandy. Just … chilling with the Winchesters." Alex leaned up against the Impala, her eyes watching as Dean paced outside of the station. "I haven't heard from you in days; you've been getting my texts, right?"

"Yes. I'm sorry; I've been extremely busy as of late. I found Bartholomew — well, he found me. But he's dead, and I think …" Castiel trailed off momentarily. "I think some of his followers now expect me to lead."

"Lead?"Alex repeated. "Lead where? Lead a war against the other factions?"

"No." The seraph's voice was firm. "I won't condone the death of any more angels." His tone softened, and he added, "They're expecting me to lead them back to heaven."

"Okay, and … that's bad?" Alex leaned forward. "Cas, if Metatron is holed up in heaven, maybe you're going to need an army to get in. Who knows if he's managed to recruit anyone; even if he hasn't, he's sly. Maybe having help isn't a bad idea."

Silence followed her words, and Alex heard Castiel sigh. "Perhaps," he finally said. "But that remains to be seen. How are you? Have you had any more contact with Crowley?"

"No, not for a while now." Alex frowned, not found of the change in topic. "It's unusual, but I'm sure as hell not complaining. Like I said, I'm with Sam and Dean. We're in Washington working a case." She lowered her voice into a hushed murmur as Dean walked past. "I figure if you-know-who has me running 'errands,' I may as well keep my skills sharp in the meanwhile," she explained.

The displeasure in his voice was clear, but Castiel relented. "You're safer now that you have grace," he reluctantly agreed, and Alex guiltily bit her tongue to keep herself from correcting his lie. "And you're in less danger with them than by yourself. Promise me you'll be careful."

"Of course. I always am. And you too, okay? I'm sure there's still a ton of angels out for your blood."

"I'm doing what I have to do to retrieve our grace. Any danger will be justified by freeing your soul." There was a noise from Castiel's end, a voice, and the seraph cleared his throat. "I should go. I will call you when I get the chance. I love you."

The station door opened, and Sam stepped out, carrying copies of the case files. "Yeah, I love you too. Stay safe, Cas." Alex hung up, shoving her phone deep into her pocket before she pulled open the Impala door so the Winchester could place the files down. "Got it?"

"Yeah. The deputy doesn't know much." Sam straightened up and closed the door. "That was Cas? How is he?"

"He's doing fine." Alex waved Dean over and circled around to her door. "He's safe, for the moment being, but not much closer to finding Metatron. How about we grab some dinner?" she suggested to the brothers. "I could eat."

"Sounds good to me." Dean's words were still muttered, but he climbed into the car. Sam and Alex followed, and the Impala purred to life and drove away.

...

The break of day brought about a new body. Alex followed Sam out of the Impala, frowning as she looked towards the diner they had visited only a day before. "Here?" She reached into her pocket to make sure her identification was there as she glanced towards the line of police cars. "Man, this town really is small."

She stepped inside the diner behind Dean, watching as the Winchester immediately stiffened at the sight of the two, scrawny ghost hunters in the corner near a sheet-covered body. The clean-shaven one — Harry — was holding a camera. "Agents, thanks for coming." Deputy Norwood hurried over to then, his relief hidden by a sense of professionalism.

Dean nodded his head in the direction of the Ghostfacers, the displeasure in his voice clear. "What are those two crapshoots doing here?"

The deputy shrugged. "I figured it wouldn't hurt to go a little 'Medium,' you know?" he joked, but his humor faltered when he saw their faces. "Uh … two counties over, folks were combing the place for a poor little dead boy back in August of last year," he hurriedly explained. "The cops let a psychic do her thing, shish, bang, boom — found the body a day later."

"Uh-huh. Excuse me." Dean tapped Alex on her shoulder, and the girl followed him over to the two men. Dean stepped forward, slapping Harry hard on the back with a sharp, "Hey!" The two Ghostfacers let out cries of surprise, and Dean crossed his arms, voice low and sharp. "I thought I told you to beat it."

Harry scowled as he regained his composure. "Oh, well, what are you going to do?" he challenged. "You gonna out me, 'agent'?" His fingers came up, forming air quotes around his words, and Alex narrowed her eyes.

Dean held up his hands, backing off slightly at the clear threat, but he didn't give up completely. "Okay, look, playing paparazzi at a crime scene — who does that help but yourselves?"

"The bloggers, Dean," Harry retorted, "the believers — everyone who needs just a little proof to know that Thinman is out there."

"See." Alex turned to Dean. "A ton of fans from all across the world? Throw in the right Tibetan symbol … Sounds like a Tulpa to me."

Ed scoffed, rolling his eyes as he shook his head. "Right. Because thousands of people can agree that the Thinman is any one thing. The lore changes blog to blog. He's not a Tulpa."

Alex opened her mouth to protest, but Dean beat her to the punch. "Okay, all right. All right." His voice rose in anger. "Right here, right now, cut the crap. Do either you actually know what the Thinman is?"

"No," Ed deadpanned. "We just play Supernaturalists on TV."

"We have no idea what we're doing," Harry agreed before he gave a heavy roll of his eyes. "Of course we do!"

Ed cleared his throat, and his voice took on a dark, dramatic tone as he took a step forward, eyes glittering with joy at knowing something the Winchester didn't. "Thinman is part man, part tree."

"Some people believe that he emerged from the nightmare of an autistic boy."

Dean rolled his eyes, cutting off Harry's even more dramatic continuation. "All right, so you guys have no idea."

"Fellas, you'll want to see this." Deputy Norwood's voice rose above their bickering, and Alex quickly hurried over to the counter to stand by Sam's side.

The security footage from last night was up on the screen, and Sam motioned towards it as Dean and the Ghostfacers crowded in. "Alright, check this out."

The tape played, showing a man, the victim, inside his office where they now stood. The camera switched to the parking lot, and a figured passed in the bottom corner, a flash of white against the dark. The camera flipped back, and the figure was in the room, standing behind the restaurant manager. A knife glinted as it swung upwards, gliding across the man's pale throat. He collapsed, dead, and Sam stopped the tape.

"Whoa." The word left Ed and Harry's mouth simultaneously, their eyes wide at the actual murder they had witnessed.

None of hunters, however, were phased. "Alright," Dean said, leaning forward, "so how did he jump from the parking lot to the diner? The doors were locked?" he asked the deputy.

"The footage shows Trey locked them ten minutes before," Norwood agreed, and Sam nodded.

"Locked, not locked, it doesn't matter." Harry's voice shook slightly, but he reeled it back in as he looked at his partner. "Everyone knows Thinman can teleport."

"I didn't even get a blip on my EMF."

Dean looked over at Ed. "So, maybe it's not a ghost," he gruffly conceded.

Deputy Norwood glanced up at the Winchester in surprise. "You Feds believers now?" he asked, his eyes moving from Dean over to Sam.

All three ignored him, and Ed took a step back. "Okay, uh … we're gonna go. Uh, good work, deputy, agents." He nodded to them in turn before slapping Harry on the arm. "Let's go. Let's go, man."

Alex watched the two Ghostfacers hurry away before she turned back to the tape. "Can you play that through one more time?" She watched as the Thinman appeared back on the screen, and her lips turned down slightly in a frown. "It doesn't look like a ghost," she murmured up to the brothers, stepping back and waving them closer so the deputy couldn't hear. "It looks physical. There's no disturbances in the tape. The thing doesn't have eyes, but … shifter? Maybe? I have absolutely no idea."

"Yeah, I don't know either." Dean cast a glare towards the door where the Ghostfacers had disappeared through before shaking his head. "Alright, let's get going. There's nothing else here." He stalked off towards the exit, and with one last glance back at the crime scene, Alex followed.

...

The door to the motel opened, and Alex looked up with a grin to see Dean enter, carrying two white take-out bags. "Dinner's served," he grumbled, dropping the bags onto the table and shrugging off his jacket. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing." Alex got up off of the bed and crossed over to the table, sinking down into her seat. "We've just been waiting for you. Both Sam and I are stumped." She jerked a thumb back towards the bathroom door that hid the taller Winchester. "He's taking a shower to clear his head. Should be almost done by now, though. Hey, Sam!" she added, raising her voice. "Food's here."

"Huh." Dean reached into the bags to pull out the fries. "Sounds productive." He sat down across from Alex and tossed her a paper-wrapped burger before he unwrapped one for himself.

"Hey." The bathroom door opened, and Sam stepped out, dressed in jeans and a light-grey shirt. His eyes swept over the food before a frown settled upon his face. "Dude. Again?"

"What? They're fucking good." Dean took a bite of his hamburger with a shrug. "Got you one, too." He pointed to the third burger that sat at the empty chair. "So. Any news on anything?"

"Nope. I was on the phone with Deputy Norwood. Still no sign of of the sheriff, and they have no leads on anything related to either Casey's or Trey's murder." Sam unfolded the white paper, revealing his food before he looked over at Dean. "Oh, and, uh, still no sign of Crowley or Gadreel. They're still both far off the grid."

"Excuse me." Alex rose to her feet, jerking her head towards the bathroom. "Be right back." She hurried across the room and into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her; any discussion involving Crowley was not one she wanted to have.

"You still think they're working together?" Alex could hear Sam's skeptical voice as she pressed her ear up against the door. "Dude, I've told you a million times. That's ridiculous." Dean started to respond, but Sam quickly cut him off. "No. Dude, I don't want to hear it, okay? You've got nothing to back it up."

"You don't think it's weird that Crowley suddenly breaks free from the bunker?" Dean let out a loud sigh. "It's … it's a gut feeling, alright? Something doesn't feel right."

"No. You know what isn't right? How you've been second guessing her ever since she chose being with Cas over hunting with us. Yeah, sure, it's a little weird Crowley escaped, but he's gone, okay? So just let it go. This is Alex we're talking about. We've known her for years — the real her." Sam cut off as Alex reopened the door, and the conversation immediately died. "Okay." Sam cleared his throat, dropping his gaze to his food as he quickly changed the topic. "Just, uh, just grasping at straws here, but when I think 'teleport,' I think crossroads demon."

Alex's met Dean's gaze, unsurprised to find frustration and skepticism in its depths, but he reluctantly followed Sam's lead. "Mm. Demon that likes to stab and watch YouTube," he scoffed with a shake of his head. "Why not?"

Dean's words seemed to spark a memory in Sam, because the younger Winchester raised his head. "Oh," he said, "by the way, speaking of which, the video of, uh, Trey getting knifed is already online. It has like, two thousand views." He reached over his food to opened up his laptop so Dean could see the video posted on a Thinman forum. "It's like somebody wants people to see Thinman in action."

Dean rolled his eyes. "It's 'cause people will watch 'cause people are sick," he muttered.

"And when did 'viral' go from that baby chimp falling out of a tree to killer 'candid camera'?" Sam added, closing his laptop with a shake of his head.

"You know what video would have gone viral if we still had it?" Dean leaned back in his chair, a broad smile across his face. "When you were five and you got dressed up as Batman and you jumped off the shed 'cause you thought you could fly."

"After you jumped first," Sam retorted with a grin, and Alex leaned forward, unfamiliar with the story being told.

Dean scoffed. "Hey. I was nine, and I was dressed up like superman, okay? Everybody knows that Batman can't fly."

"Well, I didn't know that. I broke my arm."

"I know you did." Dean's head tipped back as he laughed at the memory. "Man, I drove you to the E.R. On my handlebars." His voice grew quieter. "Hm. Good times." His eyes glazed over slightly as he thought back, only to be shaken out of it by a loud and hurried knock on the door. The two brothers exchanged looks, and Alex reached back, fingers wrapping around the grip of her gun. She watched as Dean did the same, slowly getting to his feet as he drew his weapon, but before he could answer it, the door flew open and Ed came barging in. Dean's shoulders fell in exasperation, and his grip on his gun relaxed. "Come on in."

Ed didn't seem to notice the Winchester's firearm. "I got to tell you guys something important," he began, his voice rushed and breathless, "and then the case is yours."

Sam rose to his feet, and Alex followed, stuffing two fries in her mouth as she crossed over to stand beside Dean. "Okay," she mumbled around her mouthful. "Shoot. What's so damn important?" She motioned to the bed in case the Ghostfacer wanted to sit down and catch his breath, and the man gladly accepted.

"Alright, so here's the thing. Either you bleed Ghostfacers red or you don't. If Spruce wanted to start a startup and Maggie's heart was in the roller derby, who am I to stop them? But Harry —" Ed's face grew red, and his gaze fell to his lap. "I-I couldn't let him give in to his girl. I mean, she — she called the Ghostfacers stupid. Stupid!" He looked up into Dean's face. "Can you believe that?" He watched as the two brothers exchanged looks, and he added, "I-I don't care how much money her daddy's hedge fund has. I just couldn't watch Harry become a corporate stooge."

Dean frowned, his patience wearing thin with the Ghostfacer's ramblings. "Okay, this all sounds like sad times at Bitchmont High," he snapped. "What does this have to do with the case?"

Ed looked over at him, mouth slightly agape at the Winchester's lack of sympathy for his trying tale. "Harry was gonna leave, so I needed to give him a reason to stay. I-I made up Thinman," he stuttered out.

"You … you what?" Alex blinked back shock as she looked between Sam and Dean, unsurprised to find it mirrored upon their faces.

Ed's face flushed bright red, and he looked down at his hands in his lap. Recovered from his surprise, Dean crossed his arms and asked, "So you're saying that this crap is actually crap?" Triumph gleamed in his eyes as he looked over at his brother.

Ed shrugged. "One old photo of a butler, a lot of Photoshop later, and I posted on one of those horror forums under 'anonymous.' And it blew up. Yeah." He watched as Sam scowled, and he weakly defended, "I only faked one case for us, and then we're packing up to go home when somebody posted a sighting of Thinman, so … we went after it, and that's how Thinman became a crowdsourced legend. Look, we were at the front of it. It felt like something. It — it was so awesome to have a following, and Harry — he was just — he was so into it."

Sam shook his head. "Ed, you have to tell him."

"You don't get it." Ed jumped to his feet, and for a brief second, fierce indignant flashed across his face. "We were the Thinman guys. Without the Thinman, we're just … guys— just — we're just puffs." He sank down onto the bed, falling silent.

Puffs? "What?" Alex narrowed her eyes, confused, and Sam and Dean echoed her.

No explanation came, and Ed just shook his head. "If I tell Harry," he said instead, "he's gonna leave the Ghostfacers."

"Listen, if you don't tell him, he's gonna leave anyways." Sam's voice grew surprisingly insistent, and Alex case him a glance out of the corner of her eye. "Trust me here. Secrets ruin relationships."

Guilt pulsed through the ex-angel's chest, and she almost looked away before she steeled herself. No. Sam couldn't be talking about her; he had no reason to actually suspect anything. She looked over at Dean, surprised to find him staring at his brother, face twisted in a fleeting grimace as if he had just been stung, and some of her guilt faded away. Maybe she wasn't the subject of the Winchester's pointed jab.

Ed, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to the hidden meaning behind Sam's words. "Okay," he reluctantly agreed, "well, I'll just tell him when the time is right."

Dean crossed his arms as he turned back to the supernaturalist. "Time's right now, chief."

"Well, he's — he's not here." Ed's cheeks flushed again as he glanced towards the closed door and admitted, "Uh, he's — he's out in the woods, uh, searching for Thinman."

Sam's face darkened, and he looked back at Alex. "Okay," he started, turning back to Ed with a shark voice, "because Thinman, or whatever the hell this thing is, has killed two people, and now Harry is in the woods alone."

"Well, actually, it's more like 'wood,' " Ed defended, "um, 'cause I dropped him off by some trees behind a grocery store." He watched as Dean and Sam exchanged unamused glances, and he forced a small chuckle. "Guys, come on. He's going to be fine. Guys?"

Sam and Dean didn't listen, already halfway out the door, and Alex motioned Ed out after them before she followed, slamming the door behind her and sprinting over to the Impala. The brothers were already in, and Alex slid into the backseat. "Which store?" she asked as Ed crawled in beside her.

From the front seat, Dean snorted. "There's only one in town," he retorted before Ed could respond, and the Impala roared to life. It tore down the street, tires screeching as it turned the corner.

...

The grocery store came into view, lit by the streetlights. A figure appeared under the iridescent lights, clutching his side as he stumbled out into the road, and tires squealed as Dean slammed down on the brakes.

The car door flew open before Alex could even process the stranger in front of them, and her feet hit the pavement seconds before Sam's. "Harry?" Ed's cry rang through the air as he ran towards his friend, who was clutching his bloody side as he stared at the hunters in shock and alarm. Harry took one step, but his legs buckled from under him; if it hadn't been for Sam and Dean catching his fall, he surely would have hit the ground.

"Get him to the car." Alex hurried back to open the back door, holding it open so Sam and Dean could help the half-conscious man into the backseat. "Harry?" She put a hand on his shoulder, steadying him as she looked down at his bloodstained shirt. "It doesn't look to bad," she reported to the Winchesters, and Harry began to stir beneath her touch. "I think we can patch it up here." She carefully peeled back the torn shirt to examine the skin. "Knife wound," she reported. "Not deep." Above her, Harry groaned, and the ex-angel took a step back. "We'll let Sam handle it," she told him. "He's the best with a needle."

The trunk of the Impala opened and closed, and she looked over her shoulder to see Dean clicking on a flashlight. "Pip." He motioned Alex after him, and she left the two Ghostfacers with Sam as she hurried over to stand at his side. "With me. Maybe whoever did this is still around."

"Okay. One second." Alex dug around inside of the trunk, and her fingers closed around one of the angel blades. The metal was cold and foreign in her hands, so different from when her grace had made it feel like a living extension of her hand, and the ex-angel twisted it in her grasp before she turned back to Dean. "This thing should kill whatever's out there, Thinman or not."

"Sam." Dean waved his brother closer, and he dropped his voice so the Ghostfacers couldn't hear. "We're going after whatever did that. We'll be back soon."

"Yeah." Sam nodded, and Alex followed Dean off into the woods. Her eyes strained against the darkness as they passed through the trees, and the ex-angel stuck close to the Winchester and his flashlight.

"Three victims in three days?" Alex paused to peer into the woods, but they remained quiet and still. "What is this thing?"

Dean didn't respond, and Alex turned her gaze back to him. "Blood." The Winchester pointed down at the ground beside which he was kneeling. He rose back to his feet, wiping his hands off on his jeans. "There's footprints going this way." He led the way through some undergrowth to a dirt road, and Alex gripped her weapon tighter as she followed him. "Hey."

The Winchester pointed to the road, and Alex tipped her head as she caught sight of the single set of tire tracks in the mud. "A car?" She looked up at Dean. "You think … you think it belongs to Thinman?"

Dean chuckled at the idea. "Maybe. Here." He held out the flashlight to Alex, reaching into his pocket for his phone. "If we're lucky we can match the tracks." Alex held the light steady as the Winchester snapped a few pictures of the muddy tire tracks. "Anything else out here?"

"No idea." Alex shrugged. "My grace is gone, so I know about as much as you." She shone the flashlight around through the dark, peering through the trees. "But I don't see anything. Whatever attacked Harry seems to be gone."

"Alright. Let's get back." Dean took the flashlight back and led the way through the thin line of trees to where Sam, Harry, and Ed were standing around the Impala. Harry was on his feet, still clutching his side, but color had returned to his cheeks. "Some fresh tire tracks back over there," Dean said as Sam turned to face them. "We took some photos."

"What for?" Harry asked, and Dean's gaze flickered over to him.

"Because that car might belong to whoever knifed you," he retorted sharply,

"Well, whoever cut me was Thinman, and Thinman doesn't drive!" Harry's voice rose in anger and frustration, and he looked between the three hunters. "It was Thinman, jackass! I shouldn't have to connect the dots for you guys. I figured, you know, you're both intelligent, m-maybe." The Ghostfacer's anger dwindled slightly as he stuttered, and Alex watched as both Sam and Dean gave Ed a pointed look.

"Um, maybe we should get back to the motel," Alex suggested, glancing between Ed's flushed face and Harry's pale one. "Before that thing comes back or Harry here passes out. Okay?" She looked up at Dean for affirmation, and the Winchester agreed with a curt nod.

"Yeah. Sure." Dean fished the keys out of his pockets. "Get in the car, guys."

...

Alex leaned up against the brick wall, listening as the Ghostfacers argued within the room. She couldn't make out words from behind the closed doors, but the raised voices and sharp words made it clear that Harry wasn't taking Ed's confession very well.

The door opened, and Ed stepped through, his head hung in dismay. "Hey." Sam's voice came from down the hallway, and Ed looked up towards the source. "How'd it go?"

"It, um, went, uh … um …" Ed trailed off, and he walked off, shaking his head in despondence, and Alex watched him disappear around the corner.

Sam frowned and pushed his way through the door, and Alex followed, curious as to what would ensue inside. "Hey, how'd it go?" The Winchester stopped beside Harry, who looked just as soulful as his partner.

"I just got punched right in the feels." Harry looked up at the two hunters, his bottom lip trembling, and for a brief second, Alex almost felt sympathetic. "None of this was real, guys. Ed was just pretending, and now he wants me to pretend, like this is just something I could get past." His shoulders slumped, and he looked back down at the ground.

"I know what you mean." Sam's voice was warm and gentle with empathy. "Look, there are things you can forgive, and there are things you can't."

"So, which one is this?"

Sam shook his head. "That's something you got to figure out for yourself."

There was a knock on the door, and Dean peeked his head through, his gaze moving between Sam and Alex. "Hey," he called. "Uh, I got a lead on those tire treads, if you want to …" He trailed off, and Alex hurried over to move back into the hall. Sam followed at her heels, leaving Harry to process Sam's words.

"What's up?" she asked as Sam closed the door behind them.

"So, the tires were only made for one kind of car," Dean relayed. "It's a 1989 Geo Metro. Town this small — there's only one registered here. Deputy says it belongs to a guy named Roger who works night security down at the mill on the north side of town."

Sam frowned, and he and Alex exchanged surprised looks. "So, this thing can teleport, but it has a job and car. What are we dealing with?"

"Let's go find out." Dean turned around and led the way down the hall and towards the Impala. "If we're lucky, this son of a bitch will be dead by the end of the night."

...

Her head throbbed. Alex's eyes flickered open, surprised by the darkness, and she let out a low, loud groan. She could hear noises around her, a busy hum, and the sound of something heavy being dragged across the ground. As her senses expanded, she realized that her hands were bound; the cold metal of handcuffs dug harshly into her skin. What had happened? The memories were cold and muddled within her mind, and the ex-angel let her eyes fall closed as they began to come together.

They had arrived at the mill not long after leaving the motel. Alex climbed out of the car to stand beside Sam, one hand going back to check that her gun was securely tucked in her pants while her other hand tightly gripped the handle of her angel blade."This is the place?" she called back to Dean.

"Yeah." Dean clicked on his flashlight, a frown on his face as the door to the mill swung open to reveal a short, pudgy figure. Alex stepped forward as she recognized the man; Deputy Norwood. "I thought we said my partners and I would take care of this."

"Look, guys," the man began awkwardly, "my boss is AWOL. We don't have a warrant. My ass is on the line if this thing goes sideways."

Sam and Dean gave each other a grim, unamused look. "Alright," Dean eventually had relented. "Just stay back." He pushed his way past the deputy and into the mill, and Sam and Alex followed. She had barely taken one step over the threshold before a sharp burst of pain flashed across her eyes.

Every past that had been black. Alex opened her eyes, hissing again as she felt the residual pain in her body. "What the hell?" Her eyes adjusted until she could see Deputy Norwood standing beside Dean, who was handcuffed to a wooden chair. "What did you do?" she snapped, raising her voice high above the deputy's incessant whistling. "Tase us?"

"Bingo." Tom Norwood barely spared her a look as he stepped away from the Winchester, moving back to where a camera was set up on a tripod. The lens was pointed at Dean, and Alex narrowed her eyes to see that a wooded backdrop was hung from the ceiling.

"So, you're Thinman, huh?" Dean's groggy voice signaled his return to consciousness, and his words had Sam stirring. "That would make sense if it didn't look like you just ate a fat camp." Alex snorted in harsh amusement, but the deputy simply ignored Dean's jab and continued to whistle. Dean's head rolled back. "Oh, God, Sam, make him stop."

"Hey, so, what's the deal?" Metal clinked as Sam tugged at his bonds. "What are you, Norwood? You a demon? I mean, how did you teleport back at the diner?"

"Team effort." The deputy looked up from his work with a grin, and Thinman appeared around the corner. The creature reached up behind its head, and Alex scowled as it pulled off its mask to reveal a tall, thin man with a cold grin.

"You're shitting me." Alex tugged angrily at the handcuffs. "You mean there isn't a monster? Just two douchebags playing Scream?"

"Wait. I know who you are. You're the busboy from the diner." Sam narrowed his eyes, and Alex did the same as she remembered the argument that had taken place behind her when they had confronted the Ghostfacers. "So, what, you just wanted to kill your boss?"

Roger let out a low chuckle as he exchanged amused looks with his partner. "Trey was a dick."

"And what about Casey?" Dean snapped. "What did she do?"

The cold grin didn't leave the man's face. "She wouldn't go out with me, so I set her up with someone else — my knife."

Tom Norwood's head tipped back as he let out a loud laugh. "Good one, Rog."

Dean jerked his head off to the side, and Alex followed his gaze towards the darkest corner of the mill where a body lay half-obscured in the shadows. "I see the sheriff didn't make it out of town."

"Well," the deputy retorted lightly, "he really should have given me the time off I asked for."

"So you killed him?!" Alex's voice rose in anger, echoing off of the stone walls, and the two killers' eyes turned onto her.

"I didn't kill anyone." Norwood nodded to his partner. "Roger did. He's the psycho. I'm the visionary. I don't blame you for underestimating me," he added, glaring down at Dean. "Everyone does. Fancy Feds, coming in here, treating me like a paper monkey from the get-go. But I was Thinman the whole time." His eyes shone with glee. "Do you have any idea how good that felt?"

"No, you sicko!" The ex-angel's voice dropped into a low, harsh growl. "But you know what does feel good? Trying to decide which of you freaks I'm going to kill first."

Roger and Tom exchanged looks. "You know what?" Norwood finally said, "I think we've had a change in our casting." He crossed the room to yank Dean out of the chair, and Alex snapped out her protest as Roger pulled her to her feet. A slap across her cheek had her falling silent as she was dropped into the chair, and the ex-angel glared up through the pain.

"You realize what you two jackasses are doing doesn't make you Thinman," Dean growled as Norwood shoved him down onto the ground. "It makes you copycat killers."

"It makes me Thinman," Roger retorted. "And you're not telling anyone I'm not, because you'll be too dead to talk." He stepped behind Alex out of sight, and she craned her neck back to try and see him.

"Show time," Tom crowed, stepping away from the Winchesters to stand behind the camera.

"You three are lucky ducks." Alex could hear Roger moving behind her, and she scowled at his words. "You're the stars of our best video yet. And when it goes viral, everyone will know Thinman's real."

"Your movie's shit," Alex spat. "You've got me handcuffed to a fucking chair against a half-ass backdrop. No one's going to buy that." She jerked her head upwards as she felt the cold chill of a knife up against her throat. "Go ahead." She jerked angrily at her bonds, tilting her head back to glare at Roger. "Kill me and see how long I stay dead. And by the way — I'm going to kill you first."

Roger simply chuckled, and his fingers wrapped in the ex-angel's blonde hair as he jerked her head back. "Wait!" she heard Sam yelled. "No, no, no, don't!"

His words were cut off by the sound of a door slamming shut, the metallic bang echoing off of the stone walls, and everyone fell silent, staring off into the dark. "Well," Alex finally asked. "You guys gonna get that?"

Roger stepped away, and Alex pursed her lips as he ripped off a piece of duct tape and roughly slapped it over her lips. Norwood did the same to Sam and Dean, and then the two men slunk off into the shadows.

Alex looked over at the two brothers, jiggling her handcuffs in a wordless question. She tugged forcefully, wincing at the pain in her wrists. Sam shook his head, and Alex could hear the faint metallic clink as he worked over his bonds. As she watched, the handcuffs clicked free, and Sam tore off his gag and untied his feet. "Hey." He pulled the duct tape off of his brother's lips. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Dean looked over at Alex, and the ex-angel nodded, shifting her legs impatiently as Sam freed his brother before moving on to her.

As he worked, she tilted her head, listening for any signs of the men. "What do you think made that noise?" she murmured as her gag was removed, and she rubbed her sore wrists. She could hear the sounds of a struggle in the distance, and she instinctively reached back to find her gun missing. "Son of a bitch."

"No idea." Sam nudged her to her feet. "Come on. Let's get out of here before they come back."

"I need my fucking gun." Alex pushed her way past him to where Norwood had been standing, her eyes squinting to peer through the darkness. "I'm going to kill them both."

A push from behind had her stumbling forward. "They're coming back," he hissed as Dean hurried further away. "Get back before they see you."

"— we have here is a 'Frankenstein' situation." Norwood's voice drifted through the air, and Alex crouched lower to the ground, hidden by the darkness. "I mean, wow, the creator. I mean, we — we were gonna let you one you guys live to tell our story, but now, once you two are dead, there'll be no proof that Thinman was your brain child." He paused, and Alex crept forward slightly, shocked at the sight of the two Ghostfacers in the hands of Roger. "No." The deputy's jaw fell as he stared at the empty chairs, and Alex pressed herself close to the ground as his gaze swept through the darkness around him.

The Winchesters rushed past her, grappling the psychopaths, and Alex pushed herself after them. Ed and Harry stumbled away with cries of surprise as Dean wrapped his arms around Roger, barely dodging a savage swing of the knife before stumbling back. He threw a punch, but Roger blocked it, sending the knife up and through Dean's bicep.

The Winchester hissed, lashing out in defense, and the knife flew from Roger's hand, skittering across the ground. It landed at Alex's feet, and the ex-angel dove after it just as Roger did the same. His hands wrapped around her arms, holding her down as one reached for her throat, and Alex struggled as she grasped at the knife.

Her fingers wrapped around the handle, and she brought it up, kicking Roger in the gut as she struggled free. A hand caught around her ankle, and the young hunter turned around. Anger pulsed through her skin, hot and sharp, and she drove the knife deep into the man's neck; she could feel the blade tearing through muscle and cartilage before it hit bone. Roger's eyes went wide, and Alex let go of the knife, leaving it embedded deep within his neck as she kicked away his lifeless hand.

"Wait, no!" Ed's cry had her remembering about Tom Norwood, and her head snapped upwards to find the deputy's gun pointed at Sam. The Ghostfacer stood between the two, his hands up defensively as he rushed out, "No! No! No, look. Look at me. This is my fault, okay? It's all my fault."

Tom Norwood grinned, and Alex pushed herself to her feet, ready to knock the man away as he said, "I got enough bullets for both of you —"

He never finished his sentence. A gun discharged, sending a bullet through the deputy's chest, and the man fell to the ground. Alex looked up, mouth wide to see Harry standing behind him, a gun in his trembling hands. Dean was at his side in an instant, taking the weapon away, and the Ghostfacer took an unsteady step backwards. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Uh, saving you?" Harry's voice shook even as he spoke, and Alex scoffed as she stepped away from Roger's body.

"Come on. Let's get you guys outside." Sam ushered Ed and Harry towards the front door, and Alex followed when Dean waved her after them. "Are you two okay?"

"I'm fine," Ed insisted, and Harry mumbled his agreement. "We're just glad that no one's hurt. W-Well, apart from — from those guys," he added awkwardly. "Uh, I … I'm sorry. This is all my fault. If I hadn't — if I hadn't created Thinman, if I had just been honest, this wouldn't have happened." Ed looked over at his shaken partner, and his shoulders fell. "You were right, Sam. Secrets suck."

"Yeah." Sam watched as the two Ghostfacers stepped away towards their van.

"Hey, Sam." Alex reached out to touch the Winchester on the arm, and Sam turned to look down at her. "Uh, when … when you were telling him about that secret thing, you … were you —"

"What?" Confusion flitted across Sam's face. "No. No, I wasn't talking about you. Listen, I know in the past, with the show — I get why you lied, okay? And at least you were honest about it — sorta." The confusion returned momentarily before it disappeared. "Don't worry about what I said, okay?" Sam's hand thumped her on the shoulder, and his attention turned to Dean. "So, we good in there?"

Alex turned to see Dean standing behind them, and she blinked back surprise at the pointed look in his eyes. It lingered for a moment, dark and cold, before it turned to Sam and disappeared. "Yeah," he agreed. "With the Thinman footage and the way I set the bodies, there should be enough breadcrumbs to make it look like those two psychos offed each other."

"They were just people, man." Sam shook his head in disgust. "They weren't … demons. They weren't monsters. They … they were just fucking people."

"Yeah, well, like I said, people are sick." Dean shook his head and reached behind him. "Here." He handed Alex her gun.

"Yeah, thanks." Alex watched the glare flashed once more through his gaze before she looked away. She tucked her gun back in her jeans, shifting closer to Sam as concern at Dean's growing suspicion pulsed through her veins. 'A gut feeling,' Dean had called it. For the moment Sam was dismissing it, blinded by his loyalty, but how long would that last?

"Can I get a ride from you guys?" Harry walked up to them, determination glittering behind the tears in his eyes. He adjusted the bag that was slung over his shoulder as he looked between the two hunters.

"Yeah, sure." Dean circled around to the driver's side door, and all four got into the Impala. Alex rested her head against the window as the car roared to life; she could see Ed standing beside his van, watching them drive away with tears in his eyes. For a second, she saw herself in his place, standing alone as Sam and Dean left, never to return. The ex-angel's eyes hardened, and she turned her gaze away. The Winchesters could never find out.