Song Remains the Same
Chapter 38 / Things Fall Apart
"One by one hollow heroes separate as they run."
- Breaking Benjamin
Barstow, California
The waitress set down four plates at the booth. "Get you guys anything else?" she asked.
"I think we're good, thanks," Sam told her, and gave her a wan, distracted attempt at a smile. The waitress told them to just let her know if they needed anything else, then left them to it.
They were at a twenty-four-seven diner, it was still raining outside, and it was early, like crack of dawn early—they'd driven in silence for about two hours after leaving Van Nuys in the stolen car. Sam was trying to keep himself together mentally at this point. He was bone-tired exhausted, run ragged, and not sure what the hell was happening right now.
He glanced across the table at Dean, who was stuffing his face, taking huge, rude bites of his breakfast sandwich. Usually food always got Dean in a better mood, but right now, the oldest Winchester was just eating like it was his job. He didn't look happy at all. Beside him, Adam was about to start on his sausage and biscuits, glancing around uncomfortably, obviously feeling a little awkward and cautious, unsure about the situation he'd abruptly found himself in. Sam couldn't blame him. Suddenly stuck on the road with your family—but a family you didn't even know at all. Add the angel drama onto the top of all that and it was a wonder Adam was being as calm and composed as he was.
Beside Sam, Alex had picked up her fork and was pushing her scrambled eggs around her plate slowly. She'd been really quiet the whole time since Van Nuys, and it was hard to tell what exactly she was thinking or going through. Sam stared down at his eggs and toast. He didn't feel hungry, but he made himself eat. The four of them didn't say anything, just ate in increasingly stilted silence. Sam could barely stomach the food, he was too distressed. He hadn't talked with his older brother yet about everything that had happened over the past forty-eight hours or so, but he knew he needed to. He thought about Dean picking fights, taking off, being unwilling to cooperate or listen to reason, running away after hurting Alex and Cas alike… it was all horrible and nerve-wracking, but the thing Sam felt most uncertain about was the sudden one-eighty Dean had done, promising not to say yes after being so adamant about not saying no any longer. It was confusing as hell and Sam wasn't sure what to believe anymore. All he knew was that he didn't want to confront Dean about it yet—not with Alex and Adam present.
It all made for some very high strung nerves. Sam didn't like being without a game plan—they'd settled on 'going back to Bobby's,' but what after that? Was Dean really anti-Michael again? Were they going to band together and fight this thing after Dean had given him that grand speech in the panic room about saying yes on their terms? Sam had a bad feeling about this whole thing... and with the sudden addition of Adam, who was quiet, watchful, cautious of them—everything felt a little bit claustrophobic. Sam glanced at Dean at the exact second his brother happened to look up at him.
"What?" Dean asked defensively through a mouthful of food.
"Nothing," Sam hedged, and made himself take another bite of his eggs. For another minute, there was no more talking—just silverware clinking and Adam drinking up the last of his Coke through his straw with a loud, sputtering sucking sound.
Sam gave him a look like cut that out. And Adam stopped, cleared his throat, set his cup down, glanced around at everyone at the table. He looked like he felt like the odd man out. "So. Uh. What do we do now?" he asked, maybe figuring that if no one else was gonna talk broach the subject, he would. Sam looked at Dean, who said nothing, just chewed a huge mouthful and looked out the window pointedly. Not getting an answer, Adam looked between the two brothers a little suspiciously, sensing the discord. "Something you're not telling me?"
"Everything's fine," Sam said, trying to avoid any conversation that was too deep. "Eat your breakfast."
Maybe he came across a little brusque or maybe Adam didn't like the tone of Sam's voice. Adam's expression became guarded and a little bit offended. "Everything's fine?" He grew sullen. "I may not be one of the gang but you don't have to lie to me."
Becoming frustrated at himself and the situation, Sam backpedaled. "Sorry Adam, it's just… I don't know what's next, okay?"
"So we figure it out." Adam said, maybe trying to be helpful, but instead just getting on Sam's nerves. "I mean like it or not, I'm part of this now."
Yeah, maybe he was, but it wasn't that simple. Sam didn't know what to say, just heaved a deep breath. Adam was coming in kind of late into this situation and how could Sam even begin to explain what they were really up against? They hadn't even told Adam about how Sam was Lucifer's vessel. The kid might think he knew the situation, but the truth was he didn't—he couldn't have unless he'd lived through it with all of them.
At that point, Alex mumbled something about the bathroom and got up, left the boys to themselves. "She okay?" Adam asked after a couple beats, watching her retreating form for a second, then looking at Sam. "Seems messed up."
"She'll be fine," Sam said, but it was an automatic answer, one he gave only to close the subject. He had no idea if Alex were okay or not. Adam seemed to sense that Sam was shutting him down and left it alone, made a face and took one more bite of his breakfast sausage and sat back, tossed his crumpled napkin down onto the plate, stood up, excused himself, headed to the bathroom too.
Thank god. The second Adam was out of earshot, Sam leaned forward to Dean, seizing the opportunity. But before he could even open his mouth, Dean cut him off. "Look man, I know what you're gonna say, so don't even bother," he said holding up a hand as if to physically stop him. He didn't look Sam in the eye, not fully.
Sam moved back slightly, looked at Dean as if to ask oh really?
"I changed my mind, okay? For real. I'm not saying yes." Dean said, his tone forceful. He took in a breath, set his coffee down, still not looking at Sam. "I guess I owe you guys an apology," he said grudgingly.
Sam looked at his brother in disbelief. "An apology," he repeated. "Dean, you need to do a little better than an apology."
"What, you want a cookie too?" Dean asked sarcastically, finally looking at his brother, and he shrugged, like he was out of ideas. "I mean, what else am I supposed to do? I said I'm sorry, now we move forward."
Sam was frustrated, to put it mildly. "Hey, you know what?" he leaned closer, his quiet voice sharp. "I don't trust you right now and even if you really are sorry, that doesn't do much for me." He didn't bother to hide how pissed he was. "What if you 'change your mind' again, huh? I can't take that chance." Sam leaned forward even more, his tone intense. "I need you to convince me that you're not gonna run off again or pull any more crazy crap like you have the past couple days. I can't let you run this show if you're gonna go AWOL again."
Annoyed and maybe a little convicted, Dean was getting defensive. "I'm not, okay?"
"Swear it," Sam replied intensely.
"I swear," Dean replied immediately, half rolling his eyes, like he was just trying to get Sam off of his back.
Sam looked at him steadily, seriously. "Swear it on Mom."
Dean's expression fell, he blinked a couple times, stunned. "Sam—"
Sam cut him off. "I mean it, Dean."
Dean's lips pursed out slightly. He was clearly not excited about it, but he did what Sam asked, and this time he sounded more like he meant it. "I swear. On Mom's grave." He seemed to resent Sam for bringing Mom into it, though. "You happy?"
Not really. Sam didn't feel much better. His fears were not abated much at all.
Dean looked at him intently, like he was seeing how hard a time Sam was having. He softened a little, relented. "Listen, there's gotta be another way, and we're gonna find it," he said firmly.
Sam bristled at his brother's statement. "That's what I've been trying to tell you," he retorted.
Dean sat back in the booth, spread his arms. "Well I'm listening now, so what've you got?"
Sam faltered. "Uh—" Adam returned and Sam glanced at him as he slid in beside Dean again. "I dunno, maybe we start asking around where we haven't yet? Shamans, mystics, psychics? Someone's gotta know something."
Dean looked uninspired. "Maybe. No one's known jack squat before, but hey. No leaf unturned, right?" It was hard to tell if he were trying to sound cynical or if he just felt that way. But he pinched the bridge of his nose briefly and reached for his coffee, pushing some obvious fatigue away. "I'll call Bobby in a few, see if there's anyone out in this area before we head back."
"We're going on a hunt?" Adam asked.
"An information hunt," Dean replied a little sarcastically, his eyes darting toward Adam sidelong. "I hope you like long car rides and frustration, kid."
Sam drank a little more of his coffee, too, hoping it would start to work soon. But knowing himself, he knew that he'd need like three shots of espresso to jolt him to clarity at this point. He set the mug of coffee down. It was getting hard to keep morale going right now. He was just tired. He'd never been so tired before in his life. This was hard. For a few minutes they waited around while Sam ate the rest of his breakfast and Adam hunched down in the seat, stared vacantly out at the restaurant dining room. Dean worked on finishing his coffee.
Finished with his food, Sam glanced back toward the bathrooms, realizing that Alex had been gone awhile now. For a minute, he contemplated whether or not he should go check on her. Usually he wouldn't but… after what had happened today, he felt a sudden, strong pull deep down, urging him to make sure she was okay.
Listening to his instincts, Sam told Adam and Dean "I'll be back in a sec," and he went to the back of the restaurant, hesitated, then knocked on the women's bathroom door lightly. This was kind of awkward. There was no answer from inside. He knocked on the door again, a little louder, cleared his throat. "Uh, Alex? You okay?"
No reply.
Ah geez. This was sort of awkward. He nudged the door open, peeked inside, hoping no one saw him and thought he was a creeper. It was a bathroom with multiple stalls, all of which looked open and empty. He heard a weird hiccuping, gasping sound, and peered around the door to get a better view of the room and then he saw his sister was at the sink, bracing herself there, her hands gripping either side of the shining porcelain—her phone was forgotten in one hand as she bent over the sink—had she been trying to call Cas? She was staring down unseeingly, hyperventilating almost, her expression blank and shocked. She looked pale, like she'd been sick, and without a second thought, Sam went to her quickly, helped her to stay standing. He was alarmed at how bad she looked. "Hey whoa, whoa whoa whoa, just breathe," he told his twin, who shook her head, staring at the space in front of her.
"I'm not… I'm…" she didn't seem to be able to form coherent sentences, and realizing that she was shaking, Sam guided her over to the wall, helped her sit down with her back against it. He crouched in front of her, holding her by the arms steadily.
"Listen to me," he told her, trying to get her to look at him. "Breathe in and out, okay? Everything's gonna be fine."
He felt his sister grabbing onto the arms of his jacket, her eyes were squeezed shut now, she was panicking, shutting down almost, but clearly trying to regain control. And Sam remembered the last time she had acted this way: the day that Dean was shredded by Hellhounds. Jesus, Alex. "You're all right, it's okay," Sam told her urgently, trying to be soothing and calming even though he was freaked out to see how she was floundering. He could see her fighting herself, trying to calm down, and he put a hand on her head, gripping her firmly. "Hey, hey, stay here with me, breathe. In and out. That's good."
Her eyes opened up finally, and his heart broke a little bit at the pain in her eyes. "He's gone," she said, her voice a pathetic, rasping whisper. "Just gone, and I don't… under… stand…"
"Hey—" Sam tried to smile encouragingly, but it was more sad than anything else. "Give it a little time before you decide he's gone for good, okay?"
She searched his gaze, her expression tense, and it seemed like she was thinking a thousand things but couldn't say any of them. She looked down again, expression twisted up into almost physical pain as she tried to regulate her breathing. Sam suddenly remembered something and he fished around in his coat pocket, drew out the tie that Cas had given to him before he disappeared.
"He told me to give this to you," Sam said quietly, catching her attention.
She looked down to see what he meant, saw the tie, and her face went slack. "I think... he wanted you to keep it for him until he got back," Sam said, thinking that maybe this would give her the hope that Sam didn't really have—he'd seen how resigned Cas had been, how he'd looked like he was knowingly walking into his death. But Sam couldn't stand to tell his sister that, and maybe, just maybe Cas had been wrong. Maybe he would be back.
Alex didn't do anything for a second, just looked oddly at the tie in Sam's hand before she reached out and took it slowly, carefully. She looked like she was remembering something, like she was dazed. She seemed confused now and unsure. But at least she was breathing normally and not about to have a breakdown.
"You okay?" Sam asked, appraising her carefully. "Wanna stand up?"
Alex stared at the blue tie in her hand, realized Sam had asked her a question. She shook her head very slowly, avoiding Sam's gaze. "Just… give me a few minutes?" She felt him hesitate. "I'll... be out in a few," she said faintly. "I'm okay."
Sam obviously didn't like it, but he respected her request and nodded, gave her arm an affectionate, supportive squeeze and stood up, left the bathroom with a couple of reluctant backward glances.
The room became silent except for the drip drip of the leaking faucet. Alex ran her thumb over the texture of the tie slowly. She thought back to yesterday afternoon in Bobby's attic.
She was decent again—wearing her underwear and her tank top once more, covered enough that she didn't feel awkward. Castiel sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her as he put his socks and shoes back on—he was wearing his pants again but was shirtless, and Alex was studying his back carefully. The tattoo of the cross that had been across his shoulder blade was gone completely—had she imagined it? She swore she remembered seeing it when she'd met Jimmy Novak—that the guy had even told her something about it being some college-era tattoo he'd regretted. So why wasn't it there anymore?
Finally, Alex asked Cas about it. He hesitated, thoughtful, then told her he hadn't liked the tattoo personally, that he'd removed it some time ago. She was surprised. He really is claiming this body as his own, she thought. She'd looked at him quietly, watched him pull his shirt back on from the side of her eyes, never over the fact that she got to see him like that. She had gotten a little flustered and busied herself by picking up his tie from off of the floor beside the bed, and that's when she saw that Cas had put his shoes onto the wrong feet. He was just too cute.
He'd been confused at her sudden outburst of giggling laughter, and she'd pointed out that the shoes were on the wrong feet. Castiel commented that the shoes looked so alike, it was hard to tell… and she watched him fix his mistake, watched him switch the shoes and then tie those crappy little lopsided bows he tied. And she didn't want him to ever tie knots differently than he did—she loved the strange, clueless way he did things.
While Cas buttoned his shirt back up, Alex had jokingly held his tie against herself and asked if it looked good on her. He'd paused his work and had seemed to be puzzled at her question, telling her that he didn't think women wore ties, traditionally. He'd said it with wide eyes and a just-trying-to-be-helpful expression that unexpectedly melted her heart.
Alex put his tie back on him carefully once he was done buttoning his shirt. She knotted the tie neatly for him, but made sure it was backwards, just like he always wore it. It was somehow one of her favorite things about him, that damn tie, and she told him as much. He'd just looked at her quietly, his gaze thorough. And she'd felt like he could see everything about her.
She held onto the tie tightly now—this remaining piece of fabric was more than clothing, it was a part of Cas, and that thought ripped open the painful tear in her heart even further—he'd slipped out of her grasp, she didn't know where he was or if he was even alive.
Sam and Dean didn't think he was coming back. Even though they weren't saying it, she saw it clearly on their faces.
Alex could barely even begin to think about how to feel—she wanted to fall away from herself, be somewhere else, to be someone else. She felt nothing, she felt everything, she was suddenly alone in a way she'd never been alone before. There was this emptiness, this utter fear and dread in the pit of her stomach, making her sick all over.
She hated herself for the uncontrollable panic she was fighting, she hated herself for being so afraid that he was never coming back.
Nothing, Arizona
"Are you coming?" Dean asked, and Alex looked up, confused. The car they'd stolen—a Ford Explorer—was parked, she was the only one in the SUV—where were Sam and Adam? Dean had opened her door for her and he was looking at her in expectancy and slight concern.
"Coming where?" she asked, feeling dazed.
He looked at her, his concern deepening. "…inside?"
Inside where? She leaned her head to the side, looked around—where were they? It looked like the middle of the desert—they were parked beside some ramshackle highway shop that looked like it'd been chewed up and spit out. She saw Sam waiting a little ways off in the middle of the parking lot with his hands in his pockets. Adam had his arms crossed. They were both squinting in the bright noonday sun.
"Weren't you listening when I was on the phone with Bobby a couple hours back?" Dean asked, and at her silence, he spoke like he was repeating himself. "We're gonna see about some mystic guru chick out here…? Name of Aura...? She was on the way back to Bobby's...? Figured it was worth a shot...?" He paused. "Any of that ring a bell?" He looked at her weirdly when she said nothing. She instead just frowned, distracted and bewildered. "You seriously don't remember me telling you this a few hours ago?" Dean asked dubiously.
She tried to think back, but her memories of the day so far seemed inaccessible and dreamlike, she couldn't put the details together and she didn't want to, it took too much energy and she just made a faint and dejected little groaning sound, looked down and shook her head. "Of course I remember," she lied outright, afraid he'd think she was crazy.
Dean was silent for a minute, then when he spoke again, it was softer, apprehensive. "Al... you're really starting to worry me. You okay?"
Alex looked at her oldest brother and wanted to feel the passion of anger she'd had for him just a few hours ago—the hatred she'd felt for his choices, his actions toward her. But now, so sad and scared, she instead just looked away, feeling nothing about Dean, nothing.
Her brother looked at her for a long moment, then stood back a little, making room for her to get out and stand. "Get out of the car, can you?" he asked, and Alex guessed she could and vacantly swung her legs over the side of the seat, out onto the ground below and she got up and out. Her limbs felt odd and she wondered briefly if she were in mild physical shock. She was light-headed and her pulse was fast, unpleasantly so.
"Look," Dean's voice said beside her somewhere, and he sounded heartfelt, kind, slightly pleading. His hand touched the back of her arm hesitantly, gently. He said something like don't give up, I raised you better than that. Listening was hard right now, too. She could barely focus, but she told him okay. Just to get him to shut up.
He said something else but it seemed muffled, she couldn't hear anything but the word sorry very well.
"Okay?" he asked gently, and she was lost. What had he just said?
Again, trying to feign wellness, she nodded, no idea what she was agreeing to . "Okay."
And Dean looked at her a minute longer, not convinced she was okay, but then he let it go, motioned for her to go with him. She did, just put one foot in front of the other, went through the motions, tried really hard to focus, to get out of the weird fog she was in.
Adam watched Dean and Alex come toward where he and Sam waited. Something was wrong with her and it was obvious. She seemed shellshocked ever since that trench coat guy had disappeared. The way she was acting, you'd think he'd died. Maybe he had.
"Shall we?" Dean asked gruffly, and led the rest of the way across the cracked, weed-choked parking lot.
Adam had high hopes for what they were about to do—meet some sort of psychic lady who, according to the Bobby guy, might know something that could help with the Winchester's efforts to stop the apocalypse. It sounded cool, a psychic. But what Adam wasn't sure about was why Dean and Sam were so dead set on stopping Michael's apparent mission to kill the devil.
It seemed like killing the devil once and for all would be a good thing, right? The world was full of billions of people, and, you know, if a couple million had to die so that Satan was gone forever… it wasn't the best trade, no, but still. It was the devil. You'd expect there to be a little fallout.
Adam glanced up at the billboard that loomed over the parking lot they were in—it said NOTHING in block letters, and it was sort of eerie, really. This seemed like a weird place to find answers. It was out in the middle of the Mojave desert, along Highway 93, which was just one endless, flat, straight highway with desert on either side. There was nothing and no one for miles. This little "town" of Nothing was named well. The only building there was one low, flat yellow shack with a sign in front of it, hand painted, that said ALL MART. A bunch of junk was piled next to it. The side of the building had been messily painted by hand and advertised "crystals - divination - herbs and remedies - incense - specialty tea - spiritual supplies."
"Oh good, spiritual supplies," Dean commented wryly, pulling the dirty glass door open. A bell jingled as they walked in.
Inside the little shop it was dim and musty, smelled like a vitamin shop, and Adam didn't like it. A woman who looked to be of middle eastern descent was sitting behind a counter and she seemed surprised to see them, looking up at them from a teacup she'd been studying. She had graying hair braided straight down her back, she was wearing a wildly patterned, colorful dress, she had many jingling bracelets stacked on her wrists. A red third eye was pressed into the space just above the gap in her eyebrows. She set her teacup down and rose to meet them. Adam could see that the cup had no tea in it, just a bunch of… brown stuff.
Hanging back, Adam squinted. "What was she doing?" he asked Alex in a low whisper. His half-sister seemed far away mentally, but when he asked her that, she came back, at least for a minute.
"Uh…" Alex looked, craned her neck, and she muttered her reply quietly. "She was reading tea leaves—a.k.a. crazy stuff." And Alex once again fell into glazed over silence, staring ahead with a vaguely sick expression on her face. Adam gawked around at the dinky little store while Sam and Dean approached the woman behind the counter.
"Are you… Aura?" Sam asked.
"Oh no. I'm Rosemary." She looked at them both carefully, a little suspiciously. "Aura is my daughter. Have you come seeking her divine truths?"
"Uh yeah," Dean said, trying a smile, coming across as facetious. "That."
"Hmm." Rosemary paused heavily, sounding reluctant, looking at the four of them skeptically. "Let me see if she's accepting inquiries today."
"Accepting inquiries?" Dean repeated incredulously, his sharp tone drawing a slight frown from the shopkeeper.
"We'll wait here," Sam said, attempting a crooked, charming smile, trying to smooth over the rude moment Dean had just created. With another skeptical glance, Rosemary disappeared into beaded curtain that hung in the doorway behind the counter. Sam gave Dean a look, to which Dean huffed impatiently, turned around, glancing around the little shop skeptically.
"Look at all this new agey crap," he muttered. "Crystals, incense, psychic powders? How's this place stay afloat way out here in nowhere land? Who buys this stuff?"
"No one," Alex said flatly and she held up her index finger, which was gray. "Everything is dusty. Everything."
"Hmm," Sam looked around, his eyes narrowing steeply. "Interesting..."
Alex looked at her finger oddly, wiped it on her jeans, drew a breath and let it out heavily, then leaned her hand against a free space on the wall, giving the impression of extreme fatigue. Dean looked at her and grew clearly distressed, looked away, began tapping the counter impatiently. "Dude this is a bust lead," the oldest Winchester muttered. "I can already feel it."
Sam picked up a little jar labeled vervain and squinted at it. "Bobby seemed to think this girl might know something, Dean, give it a chance."
They waited for about five full minutes. Dean grew more and more impatient, casting hooded glances at his sister and brother, not really paying any attention to Adam, who contented himself to poke around the weird shop.
Rosemary finally reappeared alone. "I am sorry to keep you waiting," the woman apologized. "Aura says she's not taking visitors today."
"Not taking visitors?" Dean repeated in what seemed to be offended disbelief.
"I'm sorry, perhaps tomorrow," Rosemary said firmly.
"We're here today." Dean said, poking an index finger down onto the worn out countertop for emphasis.
Rosemary shook her head. "I'm sorry."
Dean looked like he were gathering himself up, about to blast the lady and let her have it—and then the beaded curtain stirred, out came a very young woman, perhaps just out of her teenage years. "It's all right, Rosemary," she said, and her voice was soft, raspy. She looked at the Winchesters curiously, and they stared back at her almost gawkingly.
She was clearly Rosemary's daughter, they had similar features, but Aura seemed wild and strange on a whole new level. She had long and untamed black hair, deeply tan skin. Vivid sky-blue powder was lined underneath her eyes, and it was so thick that it looked like she'd put it there with her fingers. Her arms were smudged with bright powders—magenta, saffron, violet—it looked like she had been painting on herself idly. There were beads scattered throughout her hair, a headband stretched across her forehead, her clothes were colorful and unusual: an Indian sari over some flowing, batik patterned pants. She was barefoot and wore bracelets stacked on her wrists just like her mother. Aura was striking and beautiful, but almost plain at the same time, her nose was large and upturned, her eyes too big for her heart-shaped face. Her steady gaze locked onto Dean. "No."
"Uh… what?" he asked, confused.
She was serene, her hands folded together in front of her as she came forward into the shop, stood at the side of the counter. "I said, no—I don't have the answers you seek. You have my apologies."
A little thrown off guard, Dean looked like he was trying to figure out what had just happened. "Lady, I didn't even ask you anything yet."
She shrugged just slightly. "And you don't need to." She looked at Adam with a note of puzzled curiosity on her exotic features. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."
Adam was confused, not even sure she was speaking to him. "Do I know you?" he asked. She said nothing, just looked at him with an unreadable expression—pleasant, but jarring and deeply knowing. Adam felt really strange all of the sudden, and didn't know if he liked being here right now. Beside him now, Alex seemed more like herself, or more like the self she'd been when they'd been trapped in the beautiful room together. She was standing in front of Adam slightly, and Adam suddenly wondered if she was being protective of him. He didn't need protecting, and he crossed his arms, moved so that he stood beside Alex, equal to her.
Dean looked at Sam, officially weirded out, maybe silently asking for assistance. Sam cleared his throat, looking a little hesitant. "Aura? We came here to see if you can help us." Always the polite one, Sam introduced everyone. "I'm Sam. This is my brother Dean, my brother Adam… my sister Alex."
"I know who all of you are, of course," Aura said simply, further confusing everyone, but she was smiling faintly, as if nothing were strange about her reply at all. She waited for one of them to speak, and while everyone else was growing uncomfortable, she remained completely tranquil.
Sam faltered. "Then you know… about the apocalypse." He looked at her uncertainly.
Aura inclined her head just slightly, half a nod. "Yes. And I know you seek to kill Lucifer."
All four of them were visibly taken aback by her apparent knowledge of what they were there to ask her about. "How... do you know that?" Alex asked.
Aura was silent for a long moment, looking at each of them slowly, poised and graceful, and it was strange, the way she commanded the interaction, how her silences did not allow for interruption. Even Dean said nothing. Finally she spoke, but ignored Alex's question. "It's impossible to destroy good or evil, they will both always exist…" She looked at Sam now. "What makes you think that you—or anyone—can kill Lucifer, the embodiment of evil?" She asked it simply and with a surprising touch of innocent curiosity, as if she really wanted to know what he would say.
Sam was startled, he cast a quick glance at Dean then looked back at her, wet his lips, shrugged. "I mean… other angels can die, so why not him?"
Her eyes drifted off in thought. "Interesting question," she replied vaguely, eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly as her expression grew thoughtful.
Dean and Sam looked at each other sidelong again, silently arguing about who was going to continue the conversation with the crazy girl. "So can we kill the devil or not?" Dean asked when Sam wouldn't say anything else.
Aura leveled Dean with another contented gaze. "Not quite," she answered cryptically. "But there's something else. Another way."
Finally, some answers. Dean grew a little more urgent. "What is it?"
She hesitated. "You'll find out soon," she said, then tilted her head to the side, looking down and shrugging ever so slightly. "But… not from me."
"Why not?" Dean asked, straining to keep his tone polite. His impatience came through strongly.
Her dark eyes flicked back up to his and she straightened. "It's not time yet. I'm not the one who is supposed to tell you."
"You got to be kidding me," Dean said. "Are you just yanking my chain right now?" He became demanding. "Tell us what you know—a lot of lives are at stake here."
"How true that is," she replied, and she seemed briefly saddened. She looked at Sam, then Adam, then Alex, then back at Dean. "More than you know."
Dean faltered, lost a little bit of his nerve. "W-what's that supposed to mean?"
"I've seen the future," was her reply.
Dean's expression grew mildly suspicious. "What, you some kind of prophet?"
Unfazed, unaffected, she merely blinked once. "Some have said that I am."
Dean's jaw clenched tight, he was getting impatient. "Look... it's kind of important that you tell us anything you know."
She was unruffled by his intensifying tone and glare. "I already told you no," she told him, matter-of-fact. "My answer remains the same." She saw the unpleasant expression on Dean's face. She regarded him with a small smile and mild sympathy. "Patience," she told him measuredly. "Everything will be revealed to you as it should be, when it should be."
Dean was practically seething, but seemed to get that there was no use pushing. "Okay you know what, Miss Cleo? Thanks for nothing. I think we're done here." Dean looked around at his siblings darkly, then brushed past Sam, headed for the exit.
"Just know that the way it will happen is the way that it has to happen," Aura said, and her tone suddenly held a startling note of warning and caution, sympathy. "None of you is to blame for what will happen. This is just... the way it has to be."
Dean stopped, looked back at her with an intense frown, then rounded, came back a couple steps. "What are you talking about?"
Her eyes snapped to his but she said nothing, then she turned to leave, but looked back at them over her shoulder before she disappeared through the beaded curtain. "Be careful on the highway as you travel. Dark spirits haunt the deserts here." Aura looked at Alex cryptically. "Until next time." Her eyes darted to Adam. "Goodbye." And she left.
Rosemary, who they had all forgotten about, indicated a jar of candy bars that looked like they had been sitting for years. "For the road?" she asked. "Twenty-five cents." Dean rolled his eyes and walked out.
"Uh, no, but thank you," Sam answered politely, and gestured for Alex and Adam to follow after Dean.
Back out in the blinding sun, Adam heard Dean, ahead, muttering "Well that was a waste of time," as he yanked open the driver's side door and got in.
The rest of them piled in, too, as Dean stuck the keys into the ignition. "Dude, that chick gave me the heebie jeebies," he complained, starting the car. "Bunch of mumbo jumbo crap." He shifted into gear. "I need a shower. I think some of her hippie got on me."
Adam felt disillusioned and more than a little creeped out, glad to be leaving, feeling less sure of what was going on than before. He felt out of place, more than he ever had in his entire life, and he was trying not to feel that way. He was all to aware that these people—Dean, Sam, Alex—were the only living relatives he had left.
The desert passed by outside as Dean drove them away from the town of Nothing. Adam looked over at Alex, who had her hand in her jacket pocket. He could see a piece of a blue tie sticking out. She was holding onto it in without seeming to realize as she stared at the back of the seat in front of her blindly. Apparently that guy, Cas, had been a big deal to her. The minute Alex had found out about him disappearing, she'd done a one-eighty. He wondered what happened to the badass chick who had kicked his ass and mouthed off to Zachariah.
He thought about how he knew how hard it was to lose someone, and realized he got it actually. He missed his mom so much. Adam's thoughts wandered, his heart sunk a little bit when he thought of her, how much he wanted to see her. Just one more time. She was the only person in the world he felt like he could be himself with.
About Twelve Hours Later
Grand Junction, Colorado
Adam woke up suddenly, and for the briefest moment, he didn't remember where he was, all he knew was that he was in darkness… and then his eyes adjusted, he could see his surroundings, hear the sounds of his siblings breathing—was that Sam snoring softly? Adam remembered the day of nonstop driving, about nine hours of it, then crashing at this motel. It had been a weird, tense day overall, exhausting even though they'd done pretty much nothing but drive. Alex and Sam were asleep back to back on the bed next to Adam, Dean was on the floor with a pillow. Adam stared at the ceiling, feeling a gnawing sense of discontentment. It had been strange, when the angels told him that the family he'd never met, his dad's other kids, weren't to be trusted. But they'd been angels, so he'd believed them.
He'd been brought back to life and then the siblings he'd never known had in turn told him angels weren't to be trusted. And even though that theory had been proven—Zachariah was a frigging asshole—Adam didn't feel like he thought he should about Dean, Sam, and Alex. He felt their side glances and knew they didn't trust him. That they felt as weird about him being there as he did.
John Winchester had shown up when Adam was twelve, and it had been, in a word, shocking. Adam had felt odd about this man suddenly showing up and expressing interest in being part of his life. He'd seemed nice enough, had taken Adam to some baseball games, spent time with him. But John didn't even tell him about his other kids until the third or fourth time Adam saw him when he was thirteen. Learning that he had two brothers and a sister had been strange. He'd imagined them a lot ever since John told him. Dean, Sam, Alex... they weren't what he had expected. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, really, but they were different than what he'd thought. Not better or worse, just different.
Restless, Adam got up quietly and went to the window. Weird, he thought he remembered there being heavy blinds across the window. The glass pane was large and uncovered, he could see out into the parking lot really well. Someone was walking by on the sidewalk—and then light from headlights passing on the adjacent road lit her up briefly and Adam's stomach dropped. Mom?!
Without a second thought, he rushed out of the motel, not even closing the door behind himself—she was a few feet away, her back to him as she walked away. "Mom!" he cried out, and she turned around, frowning. He could see really well now, the moon was oddly bright.
"Adam?" She asked, dawning surprise in her voice. "Adam!"
He rushed to her, overwhelmed by disbelief. He had never hugged anyone so tightly in his life—she hugged him back, but it was sort of weak, was she all right? He pulled back urgently, looking at her carefully. "Mom, are you okay? How—how are you here? Did the angels—" he felt himself go cold with realization and fear, his jubilation was gone as he realized this had to be something bad. "The angels."
"Yes, the angels!" came a familiar voice, and Adam whirled, holding his arm out in front of his mom instinctively, protectively. He was deeply afraid when he recognized the owner of the voice.
"Zachariah," he growled, his veins hammering in hatred.
"The one and only!" The angel said proudly, chuckling as he approached, swaggering almost. "Did you really think you could get away from me, kiddo?" Zachariah asked, amused. "I mean, I wasn't done with you." He stopped, a few feet off. "You and your bitch sister really shouldn't have done what you did," he scolded, still acting like it was all a huge, funny joke to him. "Do you have any idea how much it hurts to be blasted away to the four corners of the earth?"
Adam felt an overwhelming sense of dread, like Zachariah was getting to a violent, vengeful punchline. "Look, I don't know what you want or what's happening, but you leave my mom out of it," Adam said acidly, trying to be brave and threatening, but he was scared. He glanced toward the motel room, praying that one of his sleeping siblings inside would wake up and see what was happening.
"Oh trust me," Zachariah said, seeing Adam's growing fear. "They're not coming to save you this time." His air of amusement was gone, and in its place was an eerie calm and focus. "No one can save you. Or your mom."
Adam suddenly found himself slammed to the ground without even being touched, hitting back-first, cracking his head on the pavement painfully. He was stuck, he couldn't get up, and he could see his mom suddenly picked up and thrown against the side of the motel, where she stuck as if glued—and she gagged and gasped, panicking as she began to cough up thick streams of blood.
"Stop it Zachariah!" Adam shouted, struggling to get up, but stuck as if all the gravity in the world weighed down on him. "Dean! Sam!" he screamed, and Zachariah had the nerve to laugh jovially.
Mom cried out in intense pain, and Adam could see her crying, begging—and it was just like when the ghouls had eaten them and everything inside of him said no, no! Don't let this happen to her again, help her, save her!
"Please, stop!" Adam begged, fighting with everything he had, but remaining stuck. "Mom!" he sobbed.
"I can do this all day!" Zachariah said gleefully, and Adam's mom gave another shuddering cry of pain as she coughed out bright red blood.
"Zachariah!" Came a startling, firm, authoritative voice, and everyone looked to see a young, dark-haired man standing where, a moment ago, there had been no one.
"Michael!" Zachariah exclaimed, fear filtering over his features. He shrunk back a step. "I was just—it's not what it looks like!"
Adam looked at the newcomer in confusion—Michael?
"Let Kate Milligan go, Zachariah," Michael said, and there was deep command in the voice. "Now."
Zachariah complied, and Kate dropped away from the wall, fell to her hands and knees even as Adam discovered he was able to move again and scrambled over to her.
"You've disobeyed me for the last time, Zachariah," Michael said cooly. "I told you they were not to be harmed in any way."
"I know, I know, but I just—I got carried away, boss! It won't happen again!"
Michael's chin lowered just a little, a threatening effect. "You're right," he said, and Adam saw the silver blade suddenly slide down out of the long sleeve of Michael's jacket. "It won't."
Almost too fast to see, Michael plunged the blade into Zachariah's chest—and there was a flash of bright blue light, a deafening scream, and Zachariah exploded into light, then was gone completely.
Shocked, Adam helped his shaking mother up slowly, looked at Michael wordlessly. The archangel was pocketing his blade somberly. "I'm sorry Adam," he said, then looked at him fully. "I'm Michael. You may have heard of me." There was a slight smile.
Even though the guy had just saved their lives, Adam was suspicious. "Why do you look like my dad?" he asked.
Michael looked down at himself, straightened his jacket. "I'm... borrowing John Winchester's body from nineteen-seventy-nine," he explained. "It's temporary." Adam frowned. He didn't understand—something seemed off.
"What's going on, Adam?" Kate asked, confused. She sounded strange, her cadence was off. But Adam didn't think anything of it, thought it was the fear.
"Just let me handle this, Mom," Adam said, holding her tightly, scared to lose her. He stared down Michael intensely. "Zachariah told me he was working for you," Adam said. "He lied about everything. Used me to try and get to Dean."
Michael's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Zachariah does do that. Lie." He paused. "He's not to be trusted. But I'm sure you've figured that out by now. And… clearly, he won't be a problem anymore." Michael's expression grew deeply serious and he came closer. "Adam, I'm weak. This isn't my true vessel, and I'm running out of time. Lucifer is close to obtaining his vessel, did the Winchesters tell you that?"
Adam's mistrustful frown deepened. "No…"
Michael nodded slightly. "Of course not. They didn't tell you Sam is Lucifer's vessel, either, I'm sure."
Adam's eyebrows shot up. "What?"
"Hmm," Michael made a soft, thoughtful sound, seeming to be sympathetic. "They welcome you to the family and yet you know, you can feel it… you're not a part of their family and you never will be. Your mother. She's your family."
Adam looked at his mom briefly as Michael continued. "You were meant for greater things Adam. Brave things, world-changing things." Michael smiled now, his eyes softening, and Adam was stilled, remembering the same look on the same face, only when it had been about twenty years older. "You're not a side character," Michael continued. "You're not the little half-brother. You're important. To me."
"What do you mean?" Adam asked, hesitating, not sure where this was going.
Michael took in a deep breath, thought a moment. "I'm looking for someone who isn't going to let foolish, selfish pride get in the way of this opportunity. Adam, think it over. Together, you and I can kill Satan. If we don't, he'll damage this world beyond repair. I need you."
Adam was beginning to understand, but he was even more confused now than ever. "I thought Dean was supposed to be the vessel."
"He was," Michael said. "But it seems he's not the man I believed him to be. And as I said before, this vessel I'm in… temporary. You're the only option left. My last hope."
Adam stared, speechless, and Michael looked at him openly. "You saw them. Your brothers. They're falling apart. It's only a matter of time before Sam says yes. And when he takes his vessel, when the embodiment of true evil walks this earth… someone needs to be there to stop him. He'll kill everyone, Adam. Lucifer despises humanity. We can save people. Your mother. We can save her."
Adam tightened his arms around his mom, and Michael's voice lowered. "All you have to do is one very simple thing. Say yes. And I take care of the rest. I defeat the devil, with your help. Afterward, I return to Heaven, you return to your life. Your mom is safe, happy, alive. You both get a second chance. I'll even bring back your dad. If you want."
Adam swallowed, heart beating fast, mind whirling. Michael seemed so different than Zachariah: steadfast, noble, good. "It comes down to this, Adam," Michael said softly. "Are you braver than Dean? Are you willing to see this for what it is? A chance to save the world?" Adam looked at his mother, whose eyes searched his, then back at Michael, who waited patiently. "I'm not like whatever Dean has told you, Adam. I have the best interest of the world in mind. I hope you believe me."
Adam almost made a face. Dean hadn't told him anything like Michael had assumed. Michael had told him more in two minutes than his family had told him all day. Adam thought about everything Michael had told him and felt purpose welling up inside of him, he felt how his mother was watching him expectantly. He pictured himself alive and happy, walking down a street, seeing people who were alive because of what he'd done, he pictured his mom picking flowers, laughing, full of life.
Michael was looking at him patiently. "So what will it be, Adam? Will you be the weapon which defeats the devil?"
And not realizing it had all been a huge trick—that Zachariah wasn't really dead, that the woman who looked like his mother was an illusion, that the entire situation he thought he was in right now was a dream he was having, not reality at all—Adam fell hook, line, and sinker.
Believing he was being brave, believing he was acting selflessly and doing something that would save millions, Adam drew himself up to his full height and looked over to his mother, who wasn't even his mother. She smiled at him, and he felt renewed purpose. Courageous, he looked Michael in the eye, spoke with a clear, steady voice. "Yes." The last thing he would say as himself. And with that single word, it was done.
They would tell stories about him in the future: The boy who died for the sins of an absent father. The boy who was brought back from the dead, drawn out of Heaven only to be pulled down into Hell. The boy whose only mistake was trusting in angels.
One Minute Ago
Adam was mumbling in his sleep—something like, Mom, no... and Alex tried to listen, but it became incoherent. She couldn't catch any more words. She stopped paying attention, let his little protesting whines and mumbles fade out. She had a hand in her jacket pocket, where the tie stayed, and her fingers tightened around it. She took in a deep breath, let it out very slowly. She thought of Castiel and her heart swelled with so much pain. She felt blank and hollow and yet agonized completely, torn apart everywhere. Her eyes stared straight up at the ceiling and hot tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes and down the sides of her face. She gripped her phone tightly—it was in her other pocket. She wanted it to ring, for his voice to be on the other end. But it was silent as it had been all day.
Sam shifted a little—his back was to her. Alex could hear Dean's slightly wheezy sleep-breathing somewhere on the floor near their feet. Adam was mumbling every other twenty seconds. She was literally surrounded, but Alex didn't know if she'd ever felt so lonely. She felt like she'd lost everything. How the hell was she supposed to live feeling this way? She still couldn't even really grasp what had happened. She kept replaying finding Castiel's abandoned blade in the warehouse. Gone? Gone?
He couldn't be gone. And yet he was.
"Michael," she thought Adam muttered, and Alex turned her head fast. Michael? Adam had gone went silent, and she held her breath, listened hard. But Adam made no more sounds. She tried shutting her eyes, but couldn't keep them shut. She was wide awake, too tired to be tired, which made no sense. She felt her chest constricting, hopelessness overpowering her.
Suddenly, she heard Adam speak loudly, clearly. "Yes."
Wha—her ears rang oddly then, and the ringing increased, suddenly blasting through the air piercingly, and even as Alex was clapping her hands over her ears, she saw that Adam glowed bright before the room was washed out completely in a blaze of light that was nearly blinding.
She heard Dean yelling, felt Sam moving, she was sitting up, felt Sam manhandling her sort of, she wasn't sure what was happening—he was pulling her to him tightly and pulling her away from the bed Adam had been in. The three of them stood there in sudden darkness, breathless.
"Adam?" Dean looked around the room in a panic. "W-where did he go? What just happened?"
"He was… muttering about Michael." Alex said, and looked at both of her brothers, not sure what had just happened. "And then he said yes really loud." She looked at the bed blankly, numb. Sam's arms tightened around Alex almost painfully, like he thought if he had her good enough, the angels couldn't take her again, too.
"How'd they find us?" he asked breathlessly, anxious. Dean shook his head, already springing into action.
"We're outta here, now, before more come back," Dean said, and Alex felt herself leaving the room, floating, dazed.
Next thing Alex consciously realized, she was in the back of the stolen car again and her brothers were talking in low, intense tones in the front seat. She didn't hear what they were saying. One by one, everyone in her life was disappearing. She looked out the window and streetlights flashed by, the overhead light flickering over her face at an unsteady rhythm as the car sped down the road in the dead of night. Her throat hurt painfully, an impossible lump there at the base of it. Her eyes flickered back and forth over the darkness outside.
Where are you, Cas? Where are you?
Saint Bernard Parish Hospital
Chalmette, Louisana
Nurse Katie Cooper looked up from the patient's chart, straightened her glasses, and scrutinized the John Doe patient who'd been admitted earlier that day. She'd heard a few of the other RN's talking about his mysterious circumstances—apparently this guy had been found on a shrimping boat off of Delacroix, bloody, unconscious, without ID and unresponsive. He'd been rushed in and was on life support now, showing close to no brain activity.
His face was messed up, he had a huge gash over his eyebrow; there was bad bruising along his jaw and the side of his temple. He looked like he'd been put through the ringer. Katie's co-workers had been talking about some kind of bizarre cuts on his stomach, and curious, Katie peeked, was stunned by the jaggedly carved up flesh that covered his chest and torso—holy shit! Who would do this to the poor guy? Who would do this to anyone? The weird, bloody symbol etched into his skin wasn't one she recognized, but it looked distinctly occult to her. Was this some kind of creepy ritual murder attempt?
Just looking at him, he didn't appear like the kind of guy who would be involved in that kind of stuff. Hmm. Even though he was in a coma and his face was devoid of any expression whatsoever, he looked... nice. Katie put his chart back into the holder on the end of the bed, wondered what kind of trouble he'd gotten in to that had gotten him messed up like this. She wondered if he belonged to a gang, or maybe a cult, or perhaps some weird religious group.
His personal effects were in a clear plastic box beside the bed, and curious, Katie looked through them. She saw a box cutter, a ruined cell phone, a couple coins, a lone silver whistle. There were some photographs, too, three of them. They were water stained, distorted, wrinkled, creased from being folded, they were hard to make out. But right away, Katie could tell from their abysmal quality that they had been printed from a cell phone camera. She picked up the first two, which were stapled together, side by side… weird... the pictures were of two guys in their late twenties or early thirties. The picture on the left was of a guy glaring sullenly into the camera like he didn't want his picture taken—the picture on the right was another guy with longer hair, his mouth open and a forkful of food hovering halfway inside, his eyes half-shut as he blinked. Why would someone carry these two pictures around with them?
Katie set down the pictures and picked up the third photo. It wasn't stapled with the other ones—and it was more wrinkled and creased than the one of the men, like maybe it had been handled more. The picture showed a dark-haired girl in maybe her mid twenties looking into the camera with a surprised, deer-in-the-headlights expression. Katie glanced at the patient's face. Hmm. More than ever, she wondered what his story was. Who these people in the pictures were.
"Katie—" the sound of a male voice startled the nurse, who turned, caught, to see Doctor Griffin looking at her scoldingly. "How many times do I have to tell you not to go through the patient's person effects? I need you to come see to Mrs. Tucker, she's overdue for a dressing change."
"Sorry, Doc," Katie said, and she hurriedly stuck the picture back into the box, embarrassed that she'd been caught again. "On my way."
She glanced back one more time at the man in the coma. She hoped that someone was out there looking for him.
Four Weeks Later
Muncie, Indiana
The rain beat down hard and fast in sheets, making it almost impossible for Dean to see the road ahead. He had slowed the Impala to an agonizing crawl, he had the wipers going as fast as they would. A few miles back they'd been detoured off of I-90 and the county road wasn't lined with street lamps like the freeway had been. "Damn," he commented as rain continued to pummel the car noisily. "Is it just me or does this little rainstorm say 'sign of the times' to you?"
Sam glanced Dean's way briefly, tense. "Yeah."
There was a short silence. "She still sleeping?" Dean asked. He didn't want to chance taking his eyes off the road to check on her himself.
Sam turned around, craning his neck to look at their sister. She was leaned into the side of the car, her hands crammed into her jacket pockets, one of her shoulders bent up awkwardly as a makeshift pillow underneath the side of her head. Even though she was asleep, her eyebrows were drawn together slightly—she was resting, but not peacefully. "Yeah, still sleeping," Sam said, turning forward again, heaving a tired sigh.
"Good," Dean said, then chanced a quick sidelong glance at his very tired-out looking brother. "Should probably get some shut eye yourself, Sammy. You've barely slept at all the past few days."
"Yeah I know," Sam said wearily. Dean could tell he was really worried about something. He didn't have to wonder too much about what—take your pick, pretty much. Sam was silent for a couple more seconds, then let out a frustrated little huff. "What are we gonna do, Dean? We can't keep going like this."
"Sure we can, as long as I get nearly lethal amounts of caffeine every few hours," Dean said jokingly, and Sam gave an exasperated sound.
"That's not what I meant." He paused, and his voice dropped lower, the concern grew more pronounced. "I'm worried about her, Dean. Like, really worried."
Dean was sobered by his brother's statement. Sam had a way of doing that to Dean—cutting through to the issues and undermining his ability to act like everything was fine. And nodding, grim now, Dean let a heavy, troubled sigh escape. "Yeah. Me too."
The brothers fell into a tense silence.
It had been a horrible month. First Adam came back, then he was stolen away after apparently saying yes to Michael. It made no sense. It made them all deeply uneasy, and to Dean, it was yet another person he'd let down. He regretted so much how little he'd spoken to Adam the two days he'd been alive. He knew Sam felt the same. Maybe they could have stopped that from happening. Talk about a guilt trip.
The three of them had searched for answers this past month, traveling nonstop, trying to find anything that would help them figure out a way to gank the devil. The whole hippie chick Aura thing had pretty much set the standard for what they discovered: a whole lot of jack squat. It was discouraging, to say the least.
Cas was still missing and at this point, Dean was pretty sure that meant he was dead. They didn't talk about it, not really. Especially not around Alex.
Their sister was the worst part about this past month. She hadn't been herself ever since Van Nuys—she was struggling and fatigued, barely able to sleep, barely able to eat. She had grown eerily withdrawn and quiet, she hardly said a thing, and when she did, she mumbled apathetically or said something crass and crabby. She wasn't there, she was doing crazy stuff like almost getting hit when she crossed the street yesterday—Dean had grabbed her hard, yanked her back, saving her life. She'd been confused, shaken up. He'd caught her wandering out of the motels they'd stayed in at odd hours of the night and just sitting on the Impala, not wearing a jacket, looking at the sky pleadingly. Other nights, Dean had woken up to find her awake and staring out the window.
He knew it was because of Cas and he had no idea what to do, what to tell her, how to react. He felt bad. Seeing Alex the way she was was like watching a half-crazed grieving widow or something, and Dean regretted his heartlessness to them, even though he still didn't think the relationship was the best idea in the world—but from the way his sister was acting now, he knew that she really… he could barely bring himself to even think it… loved Cas. And damn if that hadn't been something powerful that had driven Castiel to sacrifice himself like that for her. Dean couldn't call it love because he didn't think angels were capable of emotions and love like humans were but… it was close, that was for sure.
Mostly, they avoided the subject of Cas like it was the plague. But honestly, pretending the dude was coming back was what Dean wanted to do, for all their sakes. He couldn't live with himself if Cas really had died for them back there after the shit they put him through—especially Dean. But it had been four weeks. And every day he felt less and less hope that they'd ever see the angel again.
Every time Dean looked at Alex, he saw his baby sister begging him help me. And he didn't know how. He wasn't a shrink or a therapist or anything... he was just her idiot big brother. She deserved so much better than him. Dean was running himself ragged trying to take care of his family and was doing a shit job, he hated himself for everything he'd done lately, but he was trying harder than ever to be a good big brother. His sister, however, didn't seem too interested in her efforts. She seemed absent, vacated. Missing even when she stood right in front of him. She was functioning, but in a robotic way.
Dean had a thousand worries… the apocalypse, Dad's warning about Azazel, Sam's increasing depression, Alex's delicate state, Cas's disappearance, Lisa, Ben… he was under impossible pressure from all sides, he was struggling, he was feeling half insane some days. Of course, he buried it all deep down under sarcasm and jokes and his who gives a fuck attitude.
But he was reaching a breaking point. And maybe the biggest thing that had to change soon was Alex. He couldn't deal with much more of of his sister's crazy behavior, not now. It was too much on top of everything else, he couldn't be everywhere at once, and he was deeply worried about her. And after she was almost hit by that car yesterday… after he almost missed grabbing her by the space of a second—he'd lost it, let her have it, chewed her out, given her an ultimatum.
"Hey, so," Dean glanced at his brother again, cleared his throat, brought it up, trying to feel his brother out for possible solutions to how to deal with it. "I meant what I said to her yesterday, Sam. If she keeps up this crap she's been pulling… if she almost gets herself killed again, I'll take her to Bobby's, no questions asked."
Sam frowned at Dean. "What, dump her off somewhere? Dean she needs us right now."
Dean shook his head a little, explained. "What she needs is to get herself together, Sam. I'm not trying to be a dick but… you saw what happened yesterday, right?"
Sam was silent and pensive, brooding.
"Besides," Dean said. "I was thinking it might be better for her to stay in one place awhile. You know, rest up, get her mind off… all this."
"Divide up now, after everything?" Sam sounded really unsure. "Do you really think that would be best?"
Dean let out a heavy sigh. "I don't know what's best anymore, Sammy. I got no clue."
"I think the last thing she needs right now is to be alone," Sam said quietly.
There was a long silence. Dean didn't think so, either, but he felt like keeping her in the action was bad for her. Damned if he did, damned if he didn't.
Sam spoke again, but in a hushed tone. "Do you really think he's coming back, Dean?"
Dean stared straight ahead, his outlook bleak. He didn't answer for a long moment. "You were there. He didn't think he was coming back."
"So why do we keep telling her that we're gonna find him?" Sam asked. "I don't think she believes it Dean." He expelled a heavy breath wearily. "I don't think I do either."
"Yeah, well," Dean tried to say it out loud so that he could believe it, too. "I haven't given up hope."
Sam sat back, confused, thinking, then looked at Dean almost accusingly. "I don't get it. He was here and you couldn't wait to get rid of him and now you're hoping he comes back?"
Dean's mouth was in a hard line. "It's complicated, okay?" he asked, then cut the subject short with a cranky comment as the rain beat down even harder than before. "This storm is friggin' ridiculous. Come on!"
Ahead, he could see a glowing sign, and whatever it was, Dean had already decided he was pulling in. This rain was getting dangerous, plus he was going about ten miles an hour. Was it a gas station? Store? Even better. "Yes, motel," Dean said mostly to himself, pulling into the parking lot as he recognized the structure. "No wait—hotel! Nice."
Sam protested. "Dean, we shouldn't stop."
Pulling into a parking space, Dean gave him a crazy look. "What, you wanna wash away with the flood? No thanks." He squinted through the watery, distorted windshield. "Looks nice, too."
Sam looked perturbed, but Dean ignored him, turned around in his seat, stretching backwards, shaking his sister by the shoulder. "Hey! Sleeping beauty! Wake up."
She started awake, disoriented for a second, and then she saw him, looked at him grumpily, silently, groggy. Dean tried not to show how he really felt—sad as hell—because her silence these days was like all those years ago when she'd been mute. He always had to take two steps ahead back then, guess what she was thinking, because she wasn't saying. Today was the same, and he tried to cheer her up. "I know, I know. I suck," he said jokingly. No response, she just rubbed an eye with the heel of her hand. "You can go back to sleep once we're inside, okay?" She glanced at him, then squinted out of her window peevishly. Dean could see how much she needed the sleep he'd just woken her from. Sam glanced sidelong at Dean in mild disapproval, unhappy about stopping.
One big, happy family, Dean thought cynically as he turned back around to face forward. He briefly looked into the rearview mirror and saw Alex glancing discreetly at her cell phone. He knew she was checking it for missed calls. She did that constantly now, and Dean didn't have the heart to tell her she should probably stop checking… that Cas probably wasn't coming back, that she shouldn't expect a call.
No. Not yet. He wasn't going to give up hope on that just yet—he refused. He cleared his throat and peered up at the hotel sign. The Elysian Fields Hotel. The place looked really ritzy, like they might have a kickass buffet inside. He was starving. He looked at the main entryway—it was close, but they would probably get soaked running through the downpour.
He cracked a crooked grin at his siblings, trying to get them to lighten up, cheer up. "Now or never, chumps," Dean said, and grabbed the door handle, preparing to get very, very soaked.