Song Remains the Same

by R. W. Winters

For Alex Winchester, normal has never been in the equation. Mute since the nursery fire, she grew up on the road chasing ghosts with her brothers and father. When her voice is inexplicably restored and the angel Castiel appears claiming to be her guardian, both of their lives change forever in ways that Heaven and Earth never expected. Castiel/OFC. Sisfic - S4-9 - Alternate Ending.

50. The Babysitter's Club

Song Remains the Same

Chapter 50 / The Babysitter's Club

"A baby is God's opinion that the world should go on."
- Carl Sandburg

---

Two Months Later

Alex remembered that fateful night very often… it had, after all, changed her life completely, setting her onto the path she was on now, setting her at the top of a downward spiral. It stuck in her mind like glue, remaining in her mind perfectly preserved in excruciating detail: Chugging down a gallon of stolen demon's blood, sick and gagging the entire time, barely being able to keep it down, feeling its effects immediately—the dizzying rush of adrenaline and strength, the feeling of being outside of her head, the sensation of invincibility. It had all been to try and kill Lucifer. And in the end, Lucifer had instead killed her. And, Alex had thought for about a year, he had killed Sam too.

But he wasn't dead. Two months ago to the day she'd learned Sam had been alive this whole damn time. The grief and guilt she'd shouldered the time between his supposed 'death' and the day he suddenly just walked into her motel room? All of that pain had been unnecessary. A fact which made her resent and almost hate Sam. How could he let her feel that way for a single day? That he was dead and gone and that it was her fault? It bothered her on every level and she had to know: what had changed? It had her all kinds of uneasy and worried about what happened to her twin. She hadn't heard from him since that night with the djinn attack. Another stab to the back she tortured herself over.

However, Dean was a different story. Alex and her oldest brother now called each other every few days and texted in between. She was even supposed to go visit him and Lisa in a couple weeks. He had just moved himself and Lisa and Ben to a new and 'safer' neighborhood. Alex was a little apprehensive about the upcoming visit to say the least—she wasn't sure what Lisa and Ben would think of her or if she'd fit into the family environment. What did normal people do in their free time, anyway? She had no clue.

Things were sort of predictable on the hunting front except there had been an oddly large number of vampires around. So that was interesting. Another interesting thing: Glen had stuck around for almost two solid months now—solid for Glen, that is. He drifted off a few times a week to 'visit friends' and 'conduct business,' but since the necklace incident he'd dialed it back and had been surprisingly… not that annoying. In fact, almost likable. Almost like a different guy. Jamie was the same as always: focused on jobs. She was a pretty organized and thorough hunter with a pretty good knack for connecting dots and reading between the lines. It was kind of cool to see her utilize her witch powers on jobs, and Alex liked the team they ran.

However, right now, both blondies were MIA. Alex checked her watch and paced back and forth a few steps in the motel room she was in. She'd expected them an hour ago. Maybe they got delayed. She took out her phone to call one of them, flipped it open, then stopped as always. Her phone background was the same one it had been all year. The only picture she possessed of Castiel. She'd taken it with her phone the morning she'd woken up beside him, literally one day before the world went to shit. In the cell phone snapshot he was laying in bed beside her on his stomach, his cheek resting against his bare arms which were folded over a pillow. He wasn't looking into the camera—he was looking slightly up, at where she was—and smiling at her in that soft, barely-there way he had. The photo was lo-res, grainy, slightly blurred. But her heart twisted and clenched at the sight of him as it always did, at the memory of that night together. Often, she wrestled with herself over whether or not she should keep this picture, because all it did was pain her. And for that matter, she wondered if she should keep wearing the penny he gave her or holding out hope in general.

Wasn't time supposed to heal all wounds? So why was it getting worse? She wanted to delete the photo but moreso delete the pain that came with it.

Emotions welling up from within and Alex looked upward at the motel ceiling. She didn't even have it in her, but she decided. One last try. Because if she never asked, then she'd never know. "Cas?" She paused. Her voice was a mere, trembling whisper. "Castiel?" Saying his name aloud made her almost crumble. She took a minute to gather herself, trying to be brave. "Listen. I… I know I haven't said anything in a few months... maybe more than that. I don't wanna bother you if you're... trying to send me a hint so… this is the last time I'll call, okay?" Hearing herself say that out loud made her feel ill. Her voice rose slightly in pitch.

"I don't know what I did, or, or what happened but… I really wish you would tell me so I can know why this is… why you're gone." Silence. "If you're coming back someday, please. I need to know. Just… just give me a sign." She looked at the ceiling appealingly, getting desperate. "Am I supposed to walk away? Is it over? You said… we said…" she trailed off, remembering and wounded by the memories. The room was silent. No one coming to answer her call. How sad, strange, and small she felt. He wasn't even listening. Or maybe he was dead. She swallowed, and it hurt, she didn't understand, she hung her head and looked at the floor. This was the misery all over again. "You used to come when I called," she whispered, then saw a wet spot suddenly appear on the carpet. A teardrop. She looked upwards again, unable to dredge up the ability to be angry. All she felt was loss and utter loneliness. This was goodbye, the goodbye she'd been trying to run away from this whole year. "I hope you're okay wherever you are," she managed. "I still love you. Even if…" she trailed off. You don't love me.

She looked at the picture on her phone again and ran her thumb over the screen where his face was, trying to touch him and realizing how pathetic she was. And fighting back tears, she went to her pictures folder, selected that picture, then scrolled through the options menu. Selected delete. Her thumb hovered over the button and then she pressed it with a horrible feeling careening through her. A prompt came up: Are you sure? Left key for yes, right key for no. Her heart was hammering sickeningly fast, she was trying to make herself do this, stop holding on, let go, escape the pain. Yes or no? She stared at the picture with rising emotion, not able to bring herself to do it… but with every ounce of willpower she had, she moved her thumb over the left key. Push it. Just delete it. Erase it. Stop clinging onto what's gone.

And abruptly, the screen winked out, lit up, and began to ring, an unrecognized number on her screen. Startled, Alex let it ring a few times, then answered, shaken up from the picture dilemma. "H-hello?"

"Hey, it's me," said the last voice she'd been expecting to hear.

She nearly did a double-take, becoming jarred for a whole new reason. "...Sam?"

"Yeah, listen, I need your help," he said, not bothering with pretense of any kind. His short, hurried tone made her pause.

"...Nice to talk to you too," she said, feeling suspicious. She cleared her throat, sniffed, then wiped her nose with the back of her hand, beginning to pace the room all over again. "With what?"

"A baby."

Her eyebrows shot up high and she stopped in her tracks—had she heard right? "A... baby?"

"A baby," Sam confirmed, his tone inscrutable.

"What baby?" She demanded, because what exactly had her brother been up to this past year?!

"I don't know, just—a baby!" He exclaimed, sounding frustrated and short on patience. "Samuel and I are working this job where babies keep disappearing, I found one and now I don't know what to do with it."

"And I would?" Alex asked. He'd lost his mind.

"Better than me!" He exclaimed in growing urgency.

Yeah right. "Sam—I know nothing about babies," Alex told him clearly and pointedly—he knew this, or should... "Why are you calling me about this?"

She could hear her twin huff in exasperation. "Fine, whatever," he said brusquely. "I'll get Dean's help." Alex paused, frowning at the clicking sound she heard. Was that… did he just hang up on her?

"Hello?" She looked at her phone—yeah, he hung up on her. "...Rude," she muttered and pocketed her phone, off kilter from the abrupt phone call. Temporarily she'd forgotten about the Cas picture in favor of mulling over her twin. Disturbed, Alex bit her thumbnail absently, thinking. The motel room door opened—in walked a familiar tall figure and she looked at him sidelong. Well finally.

"Sup," Glen greeted distractedly, typing something on his phone. He paused, noticing her expression. "Everything okay with you?" He lowered his phone then pocketed it, stood there and crossed his arms.

"Yeah, fine," she said tersely, looking behind him—no Jamie. "Where's your sister?"

Glen sauntered in past her, heading for the mini fridge. "Just talked to her a minute ago, she said she might have found a job—some people over in Jackson said their house is haunted. She already headed over. It's not too far from here." He cracked a typical grin, playfully wiggling his eyebrows once as if he was thinking the hunt might be up his alley. At the same time, he was grabbing a dark beer out of the fridge. "Sounds like fun to me."

Not really in the mood, Alex crossed her arms. "Fun. Right."

"She said we need to meet her over there stat, so…" he jerked a thumb backwards over his shoulder then cracked open his beer. "I'll go check us out of the room, you down?"

Absently, Alex nodded and shrugged, off in other thoughts. "Yeah, I guess."

He looked at her and seemed to empathize with her. He came over, beer forgotten in his left hand. "Hey," he said, seeming to appeal to her and almost scold her at once. "You're depressed." He set her with a determined look. "You know what, let's go get a drink—a real drink, somewhere cool, on me. We can meet up with my stick-in-the-mud sister later. You need to have some fun."

Getting annoyed and thinking she saw where this was going… Alex turned and grabbed her duffel bag up off the bed. "Drinks? No. Jamie'll need backup. You can't just pick and choose when to help her out, Glen. You'll get her fucking killed. That's your family, why are you like this?"

Glen ignored her words. "Alex. I get it," he said, somewhere behind her. He sounded like he genuinely cared. "You're trying to get over someone. You need some help through."

Alex turned around and gave him a fairly hostile expression. He was pushing too much. "I don't need help, okay?" She asked rudely. "Especially from you."

Mildly crestfallen he looked down, a rare display of what appeared to be genuine chagrin. "Look: Alex. I may joke around and flirt a lot and I know sometimes it's too much and I'm sorry but…" he looked at her frankly. "I care about you a lot, you're… you're special. I like you, I've liked you a long time." He smiled a little because they both knew he hadn't been shy about saying so, either. He wet his lips, but was almost nervous—and she'd never seen him act nervous and it somehow made her nervous, too. "I mean it's obvious there's something here. Something worth... trying out." He swallowed. "I just want a chance."

Alex was both uncomfortable and flattered… and felt a little regretful for her rude tone a minute previously. Relenting a little, she tried to let him down gently because she felt bad at his very heartfelt tone. "Glen—you're sweet." She shook her head, too chastened to look in his eyes very well. "But I'm not interested. And I want you to stop this or we're gonna have problems." She stepped away. "I'll meet you there, okay?"

She had her bag and slung the strap over her shoulder again, attempting to walk past him. But he set down his beer and moved to block her way, his hands held up in a 'stop' gesture. "I'm—I'm not trying to push you, and I'm sorry if this is too forward, but let me finish, please." There was a vulnerability there that she'd never seen before. Intrigued and cautious, she watched him carefully.

Then he reached out and touched her jawline softly—she almost jumped at the gentle touch, not sure of how to react—he looked at her soulfully, like he thought she was beautiful. It reminded her of how Cas always looked at her, and something in her broke a little bit. "You're a beautiful girl but... that's not the only reason I like you so damn much. You're strong and cool and we get along good, never a dull moment, right?" He smiled, trying to get her to do the same, then saw her discomfort with his touch and took his hand away, seeming to beat himself for overstepping his bounds, internally. He kept going, visibly struggling to form words and put his thoughts together. "What I'm trying to say… sorry, I'm not good at this stuff but… I think we'd be great together. I'd finally have something to keep me in one place awhile, you know?"

What? Not sure what had gotten into him, more than a little blindsided, Alex reverted to being a little more snide. "I think, personally, your sister should be enough motivation for you to stay in one place, don't you?"

He let out a soft, cynical little chuckle and looked down. "Yeah, well, she's not." His eyes darted up to hers. "But you are."

Was she insane, or was she really starting to believe he actually felt this way? It briefly briefly made her consider him. At least for a rebound, maybe. She saw how he saw her considering and quickly zipped her emotions up and hardened her face. "I asked you to stop. So stop." She brushed past him. She was gonna have to have a talk with Jamie about getting her brother to back off if this shit kept up. "See you in Jackson." She didn't look back.

Glen watched her go, rolled his eyes, then took in a deep breath and then pulled his phone back out and finished writing the text he was about to send to… Sarah? No. Sadie. Some girl he met at a bar last night who liked bad boys and was asking him to come over now. He saw no reason not to; he never turned down an opportunity. However, the thing he liked the most was the thrill of the chase, and Sadie made it easy, too easy—he'd had a hundred girls like her before, which was why Alex… well, she was one of his favorites… she was unique. The careful persona he'd worked over on her was one of his best.

To Alex he was a roguish and charming heart-of-gold hunter who had no filter and was by appearances sort of shallow and whimsical, adrift in life, not interested in anything that would last or be of consequence… but little by little, he'd let little instances of vulnerability and uncertainty slip out at a steady tide culminating with what he'd said tonight. Just as predicted, his carefully chosen words and actions had drawn out the exact reactions he'd expected. He was wearing her down bit by bit, and it wouldn't be too much longer now. She loved to hate him, and he figured a couple more of those carefully-timed bleeding heart moments paired with her obvious emotional vulnerability and she'd give in, let him do what he wanted. They always did. He always got his way. 'No' wasn't in the equation. He'd blow her mind and make her forget every other guy she'd ever had. He would be able to say he was better than a fucking angel, how many guys got to say that? He smirked to himself. He was looking forward to it, no doubt… but in the mean time… he finished writing out the text to Sadie.

I'll be right there baby ;-)

He hit send.

Glen didn't see, but an angel came to the room just a few moments later in search of the one who had called to him just minutes ago. Castiel was mildly wounded from being locked into hand-to-hand combat with Raphael. He had heard her asking for him, and while her words had been garbled because of the archangels closeness it had seemed important, so he had torn himself away from the battlefield after eluding Raphael. But she wasn't there. There was only a tall blond man on his phone.

"Yeah, Jennifer, sorry but I have a paper due in the morning, I'm heading to study group like right now—" he chuckled. "Very funny, but I'm not too old to be in college, ever heard of a Master's? Mm-hmm. I can't come over tonight, is what I'm saying. But in a couple days for sure. I'm there. You, me, some wine… the fireplace..." he chuckled again. "Hey, so, don't get too weirded out or anything, but… I keep thinking about it and I think I'm ready to meet your family. Is it too soon? No. I think so too. Yeah. Sweetheart, I agree completely." He laughed again, sounding carefree and affable, kind. Castiel remembered this man—Alex had been with him before, that time she'd been unwell. Cas wasn't sure why he got such negative feelings from this particular man... but he still did.

Castiel began to look around nearby for the one he loved. But she was nowhere to be found, and soon, the angels called his name once more. The emptiness and longing he felt inside grew even wider and deeper. The need to see her face again was so great that it was painful.

---

The Next Day

"Yeah I agree," Jamie said. "Seems like one of the family members is hiding something." She was packing more herbs into a hex bag she was making. "I mean vengeful spirits don't just try and get revenge for no reason. One of those people did something to Beth Sanders."

Alex nodded offhandedly, whetting the blade of her scimitar against a sharpening rod with quick, light motions. "Someone's definitely lying."

Jamie set down the completed hex bag and started on another one, raising her eyebrows. "Looks like we're gonna be doing some surveillance."

"You mean spying," Alex corrected grudgingly, immediately becoming a little deflated. She realized that's what those hex bags must be—Jamie's own little witchy phone taps, in so many words.

Jamie chuckled softly at Alex's predictable distaste for anything besides fighting. "Call it what you want," she said reasonably, stuffing a moonstone down into the bag. "It gets the job done."

"Spying is boring," Alex said resentfully.

"Hunting isn't all slashing and hacking," Jamie reminded with a note of playful lecturing in her voice. "You know this."

Alex waved her sharpened scimitar through the air, slashing it fast and hard enough that it made little vwoom sounds. "Slashing and hacking is my favorite part," she said, unaware of the little smile on her face as she played with her deadly weapon. When she noticed Jamie's expression, she stopped. "What?"

The blonde's ice-blue gaze faltered away, her brief look of mistrust was gone. "Nothing." Jamie began to return to her task, then stopped and sighed in resignation, seeming to have a change of heart. "Alright. Sometimes…" she held a hand out, palm up, for emphasis. "You worry me a little. You get this look in your eye… you get a little…" she scratched the side of her head, searching for the right word. She looked Alex in the eye when she found the right term. "Sadistic."

Alex felt mildly chastened because it was true. But she didn't feel entirely guilty. "Yeah, maybe I do." She got up to pack her blade back into her weapons bag and get out from under her friend's very piercing gaze. Jamie seemed to sense Alex's discomfort and dropped the subject.

"Anyway, I finally heard from Glen while you were showering, forgot to tell you," Jamie said, back to work on hex bags again. "He's on his way to us, supposedly. And hey, hand me my duffel while you're over there?"

Alex grabbed the bag and tossed it at Jamie, who caught it just barely with an oof sound. "Yeah?" Alex asked, busying herself with sliding the blade of her scimitar into its leather holster. "Did he say where the hell he disappeared to this time?" She crouched down and put the weapon away. "He was supposed to be right behind me last night."

Jamie sighed, her displeasure thinly veiled. "Yeah, well, he said some buddy of his called to cash in a favor, needed some help with some project, I don't know; I don't care. He might be here later, he might not." She sounded over it. As usual. Jamie had low tolerance for Glen's ways.

Pushing herself up to stand, Alex turned around to look at Jamie again, who was digging in her bag for something. "Why do you keep him around anyway?" Alex asked, in a tone that suggesting she was joking. But there was an honest question buried there. "He's kind of useless. All he does is annoy you." He was actually pretty good in a fight, but as far as day-to-day went, he was completely inconsistent and frustrating. Unreliable.

Jamie smirked down into her lap as she pulled out some iron rounds and laid them out beside herself. Was she cynical or bitter? It was hard to tell. "Yeah, he really is useless, mostly. But he's all I've got. And I'm all he's got." There was a growing note of truth and confession in Jamie's voice. "Everyone else in our family is dead and gone. I can't just… abandon him." Alex almost thought Jamie would ask 'right?' after that. But she didn't, she remained quiet for a second, frowning in thought, then seeming to shake herself. She returned to her task. "At the end of the day, everyone should have someone they can rely on."

"Well he doesn't seem to have a problem leaving you high and dry," Alex pointed out.

Jamie didn't pause, but her classically beautiful features became a little stonier. "Yeah, well, that's just Glen, isn't it."

Alex was quiet a minute. "I can't figure him out."

"What's there to figure out?" Jamie asked, sarcastic, glancing at Alex sort of sharply. "He's a loser." It was said in what was meant to be jest, but Alex heard the grudge buried there.

"I'm serious," she said. She really wanted to know more about this guy. Get a second opinion of him.

Jamie stopped what she was doing. The subject of her brother always seemed to make her like this, but usually, she avoided saying much of anything. A little irritated, Jamie shrugged, letting her hands go up to her shoulders then slap back down onto her legs. "I dunno what to tell you. Glen is Glen. He... drives me crazy… never does anything right… he's never on time or consistent or worried about anything… he's spoiled and entitled and always has been… thinks he's God's gift to women… obviously I'm not the best person to ask, I mean, I love him—but… I don't really like him. We've never really gotten along. He thinks I'm the world's biggest bitch for believing in things like responsibility and commitment and for expecting him to follow through on things." She attempted a cynical chuckle, it faltered. She sounded like she was trying to downplay herself. "Guess you could say there's some bad blood between us. My mom thought he was the 'perfect kid,' and me… I couldn't do anything right. So… I guess I still hold some grudges that are probably way past their expiration date." She seemed mad at herself almost, shoved something into the hex bag she was holding a little harder than she needed to. Not the usual calm, collected, and somewhat snarky Jamie.

"I know how that is," Alex muttered, thinking about all the grudges she held that were probably really stupid to hold on to. She looked at the hunter she'd spent so much time with the past year, yet barely knew at all. She chanced a personal question, as this conversation was quickly becoming personal and not a lot of these happened. "So was your dad around, or…?"

Jamie shrugged like she didn't care, but Alex thought she saw that it was facetious. Jamie continued to speak in a non-emotional tone, even though it looked like she were thinking hard. "Ah, barely ever. He worked all the time, he was some big deal lawyer and when he was around, he wasn't interested in us kids. Any of us." Alex frowned, because that seemed to imply there had been more than just Jamie and Glen.

Jamie saw Alex's confusion and her voice softened, taking on a note of mourning and great sadness. "We... had another sister. Erin. She… she drowned when she was just two. I was eight. Glen was six. And he's the one who found her." Jamie paused, eyes far away, expression rigid. "You never forget something like that. Seeing your little sister's dead body in the water." She had this look of torment that Alex identified with immensely. "It's all so fucked Alex. My mom went psycho and murdered my dad a few years after that all happened. Then killed herself in prison. All that shit kinda does things to a person. Me and Glen both." She scoffed a little against her clear pain, trying to brush it off. Alex was shocked at the new information. "Anyway. I think that's why my brother never fully commits to anything—he's scared to be invested, you know? He doesn't want to lose what he loves, so he runs away from everything." Alex thought maybe that was Jamie's dilemma, too, and Jamie seemed to realize everything she'd just said was highly revealing—she tried to backpedal, forcing a lighter, more easy going tone. "Wow. I'm saying way, way too much."

Alex hesitated, then decided to share something personal too, to maybe sort of stack the decks evenly. "When you found me at that bar or whatever earlier last year… the real reason I didn't wanna hunt with you at first was because I was trying to run away from my past." Jamie looked at her curiously. Alex shrugged, trying to think through it better. "Hunting reminded me of everything I lost. I thought it'd be easier not to face all that anger that I had inside." She swallowed and thought of all the crazy choices she'd made this year, all the things she'd done in the dark. "I think that's why I can get a little twisted sometimes," she said softly, to herself more than anyone else. "I'm angry. I'm so angry. And I'm angry that I'm angry." Alex almost laughed at herself, at how ridiculous her emotions and thoughts were. "How does that make any damn sense? Angry that I'm angry," she muttered lowly, feeling that familiar emptiness, that constant feeling of being alone, even when people were right with her. She couldn't hold her false, self-deprecating smile anymore. "I just feel like… life isn't supposed to be the way it's turned out for me, you know?"

"How's it supposed to be, then?" Jamie asked. Maybe because she wanted to know, too.

Alex let out a heavy breath, mouth pursed in thought, expression bitter. "That's the question. I thought I knew. But I don't." She shook her head shallowly. "Just… not like this." An uncomfortable silence spanned between them and Alex cleared her throat, attempting to make it less awkward. "Sorry. Too much information. I know. Just... thought I'd even the playing field a little."

Jamie said nothing, thankfully, just gave a little gracious smile and began to put all the completed hex bags into her duffel, effectively letting the subject close. Alex paced a few steps, yawned widely, then rubbed her eye a little. So damn tired.

"No yawning allowed," Jamie said puckishly, steering them into business-as-usual mode. "We have things to do."

"Sorry," Alex managed through another noisy yawn. "Do you know a spell to help keep me awake?"

Jamie gave Alex an impish look. "Yeah, it's called coffee."

"Ha ha."

Jamie stood up. "When's the last time you got a solid eight?"

Alex pulled a flabbergasted face. "Uh—never?" She joked, then shrugged. She'd love to sleep solid, long, and deep for a long time, maybe a couple years, but... "I can't sleep anymore, not well anyway. And when I do sleep, I have… the worst dreams."

Jamie was sympathetic as she went to the coffeemaker and started a pot. "Yeah. I know all about that." The glass carafe clinked against something. "Not enough that this life's a nightmare, but even in dreams it follows you." Alex sat on one of the ends of the beds, yawning again and stifling it. A couple beats of silence passed, then Jamie cleared her throat. "So. Who was he?" she asked.

Bemused, Alex tried to figure it out. "Uh… who was who?"

Jamie turned around as the coffee maker began to grind away. She crossed her arms, letting her head cant to the side. She seemed to know, intuitively, but was hesitant to ask. "The guy. I know there had to be a guy. And it must've ended pretty badly."

Startled by the subject and Jamie's words—it seemed very un-Jamie like to ask about all these personal things, but maybe they were becoming better friends than Alex had thought. Either way, the statement, the fact that Jamie could tell deeply triggered Alex. Sometimes it just hit her all over again that it really was over; that she was the only one who still hung onto it being real. "Yeah. There was a guy. And it didn't end badly. It... ended with a question mark," Alex said hollowly, not bothering to try and duck the subject anymore. She shook her head, feeling stricken. "I dunno. We were from different worlds. He went back to his, and here I am in mine." A derisive little smile spanned her features. She hated talking about this, thinking about it. "I always kinda knew it was too good to be true." She swallowed her feelings and made herself be indifferent. "And honestly, let's never talk about it again, okay?"

Jamie nodded. "Sure."

There was an abrupt pounding sort of knock on the door and Alex turned, frowning—Glen never did that; he either barged in or rapped on the door smartly. That sounded like someone else. Jamie seemed to remember something. "Oh—forgot to mention. Someone else called while you were in the shower."

There was something about her voice that made Alex grow dubious. "Who?" She asked suspiciously.

Jamie just smiled. "Go see." At the mistrustful frown Alex gave her, the blonde just made a 'go on' motion with her hand.

Alex did—went to the door and opened it cautiously, then her face fell in surprise. Sam's huge form took up the entire doorway almost and he unceremoniously shoved a baby at her, literally into her chest. "Hold this," he said and began to let go, giving her no choice but to awkwardly clutch the little human as her twin brushed past her and into the motel room.

Blinking in shock, Alex held the baby, frozen, afraid to drop it or something. Dean, a huge box of diapers in his hands, smiled appealingly and raised his eyebrows—Sam had been blocking her from seeing him. "Hi! Mind some company?" he asked even as his dumbfounded sister lost her cool completely.

"What—why—how?" She asked, trying to ask several different questions all at once, panicking slightly because—baby.

"I know," Dean sympathized and brushed past her too. She could see he also had a couple grocery store bags with him and she dumbly followed her brother into the room, holding the squirming baby in her hands tightly and awkwardly, afraid to drop it.

"Surprise…?" Jamie said to her with a sort of hopeful, please-don't-shoot-me sort of look on her face. She went over and shut the still-open door for the Winchesters.

"I hate surprises, you should know that by now," Alex complained, but she was preoccupied with not killing the small human she had been forced to hold. She had a better grip on the baby and held it out at arms length, trying to get a look at it. It stared back at her with big blue eyes, seemingly innocent and a little confused by what was happening to it. She wasn't sure if she'd ever felt more freaked. "W-what am I supposed to do with this thing?" she asked, looking at her oldest brother in almost despair. "Whose kid is this?"

"Just hold him a little longer," Dean said, preoccupied with opening the box of diapers. "Sorry, Al. Needed a place to lay low for a sec—called James, she said you guys were close, too good an opportunity to pass by," Dean was rustling through a grocery store bag of baby supplies. "Sam found the kid while working a job—pretty sure the parents are both dead. Also, a shifter is after this little guy."

"What? Why?" Jamie asked. "You didn't tell me that."

"Need to know basis," he said, distracted. "It got the jump on us at the supermarket, seems pretty into the idea of kidnapping this kid. As far as why… that's what we're trying to figure out. Oh, by the way—" he turned to Sam who was setting up some stuff—a couple binders, folders, his laptop—on the little motel table, off in his own little world. He motioned to his brother, then to Jamie. "Sam, James. James, Sam."

"Jamie," she corrected.

Sam paused his task. "Nice to see you again, it's been awhile," he said, then pretty shamelessly looked her up and down. "You uh, you grew up." He gave her a distinctly flirtatious eyebrow raise and smirk and she gave him quite the look in return—but hers was not as friendly. It was more like a silent don't start with me. "Mind if I set up here?" He already had. Skeptical, Jamie just shrugged.

"Be my guest." She turned and glanced at Dean. "I'll call the front desk for a crib." Jamie went over to the phone and looked at Alex, who was sitting on the bed with the baby at arms length, sort of propped onto her knees. Jamie was faintly amused at Alex's posture and expression. "You look like you've never held a baby before."

"I don't think I have," Alex said, trying to move as little as possible. What happened if you shook a baby? Didn't they die on impact or something? And weren't they supposed to puke on you a bunch? This one wasn't puking or dying… so, well, that was good, right? He was heavier than she thought a baby would be… and she noticed how he had the biggest little eyes framed by long, dark lashes, how his face was cute and chubby, how he had a little double chin, wispy hair on his head. He stuck a couple fingers in his mouth and cooed, seeming to find her just as fascinating as she was finding him. He wasn't exploding or breaking and you know, he was actually not that bad at all.

"Hey, you're kinda cute, aren't you," she said, relaxing a little, intrigued with how small he was, how his chunky little wrists connected to his beefy little hands, how his little tummy was round and fat. She'd never really seen a baby up close like this. Without warning she remembered how Cas had told her once about how she'd been pregnant in the future, in that post-apocalyptic Croatoan-riddled world of 2014. Wow. This moment somehow made that once-possible future realer to her. Holding this kid right here and now was suddenly so much more stilling and saddening in a way she wasn't sure how to understand. This baby had blue eyes—she wondered what color eyes their baby would have had. She felt her head tilting to the side and she smiled a little sadly.

"Gah gah gaaaah," the baby babbled and sucked on his fingers loudly, frowning a little like he was experiencing mild discomfort.

Maybe there wasn't anything to this baby stuff, Alex thought. Just as soon as she thought that, his face changed, wrinkled up, and he began to fuss. "Oh—uh… shh, it's okay, little dude," she cajoled, but he went prone, beginning to cry in rising displeasure. Alex stiffened, panicked. He began to cry harder. "Oh my god it hates me! I think it's dying!" She looked at her big brother pleadingly. "Dean! Help me!"

He chuckled, opening the box of diapers and setting up shop on the other bed. "Relax, relax. Babies cry. It's kinda their thing. He just needs to be changed." He grabbed a diaper and pointed at her with it. "Also, he's a he, not an it. We're calling him Bobby John."

"How was I supposed to know that?!" she asked, nerve-wracked by the baby's fussing. And wait, Bobby John? She almost laughed.

"He's in boys clothes," Dean pointed out, a lot calmer than she was.

"So was I when I was a baby," she retorted, remembering the photos Bobby had around of her and Sam around eighteen months, both in little baby boy outfits—apparently Dad didn't see a point in getting girl clothes for her at that age. Bobby John was squalling now, turning her into a nervous wreck. "Why won't he stop crying!" She asked, getting really freaked out. His little face was turning red, was that bad? Good god he was loud! How was she supposed to get him to stop? She tried bouncing him a little, getting frantic. "Shit, kid, you—" she gasped at herself, embarrassed because she realized that was a social code she'd just broken. "Oh fuck, you're not supposed to swear around kids—" her eyes widened again. "Dammit—I'm—ugh!" She drew her mouth into a thin line, embarrassed. Bobby John was whining miserably. Sam and Jamie were hiding smiles, Dean made an oh come on face at her. "Okay, I'll just stop talking," Alex said, subdued.

"Good idea," Dean said, reaching for the baby, apparently ready. "Hand 'im over."

Alex did, relieved at the deepest levels, but still somewhat petrified, watching her oldest brother with wide eyes. "Do you actually know how to change him?" she asked, horrified at the thought of doing that.

Her brother gave her an oh my god please look. "Do I know how to change him," Dean repeated in a teasingly indignant chuckle, then began to do just that—laid the kid down on the bed and onto a baby blanket. It was like a car wreck—Alex couldn't look away, had to watch. Dean let out a sound of amazed disgust. "Damn—ugh—wow, Bobby John, good job little man. How did you even make that much?"

"You're a real hero," Jamie chuckled.

"I do what I have to," Dean said, then made an exasperated sound at the baby. "Okay, alright, you know what? I'll pay you money if you hold still." Sam laughed from his little perch at the table and Dean turned to look back at Sam. "This is like defusing an IED, with poop!" He exclaimed, maybe looking for sympathy. He didn't get any from Sam, who just chuckled again. Alex shot him a look. Her twin hadn't even really said hello to her and he was engrossed in his research, not paying her or anyone else much mind. The hell was that?

Dean sighed and kept on with his little task, managing to finish up. "Okay, alright, alright, alright, you are golden, Bobby John. Time to hit the hay—where's that crib at?" he asked Jamie. He picked Bobby John up and began to hum a little tune to calm down the fussy baby.

"Should be here in a minute or two, I hope," she said, then paused, a dawning smile growing. "Are you humming Smoke on the Water?"

Dean paused. He had been. "At least I'm not making him listen to death metal," he said, and resumed humming, getting an amused side-eye from Jamie.

"Dean, you're just going to make it cranky again," Sam said in a reasonable tone, glancing up and over a sheet of paper he was studying.

"Am not," Dean said. There was a knock on the door. "Ah, there it is. Hold him." He dumped Bobby John into Jamie's arms unexpectedly as he walked past her.

Although Jamie was startled by the sudden action, she didn't seem to have the same sort of paranoia that Alex had experienced. She held Bobby John easily. Alex watched her with the baby, and it was kinda funny. Jamie, tough as nails, taking a seat next to a bag of weapons, her half-sleeve tattoo showing because she was wearing a spaghetti strap top. The familiar tattoo was black and white and of a large, stylized grim reaper holding a scythe. Surrounding the shape of the reaper was a pattern of thorny rose stems and what looked like feathers—the design wrapped around the entirety of her arm front to back, elbow to the top of her shoulder and some of her chest. Every time you looked at it closely, you could notice more details you hadn't noticed before hidden in the design. Bobby's John's little head next to the sort of scary tattoo was a striking contrast. But even though Jamie sort of looked like bad news if you didn't know her, holding that baby she seemed sweet and suddenly incredibly motherly. She smiled down at Bobby John, rocking him like it was second nature. "Hey, you, all better?" she soothed him, and he crooned softly.

At the door, a motel employee held a large, weirdly shaped… thing. "This pack and play work for ya'll?" he asked. "We don't have any real cribs."

Dean accepted the huge object readily. "That's great," he said. "Thanks." He shut the door. "Al, start on this, I gotta hit the head."

He shoved the object at her and headed to the bathroom. "But... what is this thing?" she asked, looking at it in confusion.

"It's like a pop up crib, sort of," Jamie explained. "Take it out of the bag, it should sort of fold right out, I think."

It was heavy and clunky. Alex fumbled with it, trying to pull the thing out of the stiff bag it had been shoved into. She looked at the strange shape of mesh and plastic rods and canvas and was mystified. "You wanna give me a hand?" She asked Sam, who was turning on his laptop and straightening some papers.

"I think you've got it," he commented mildly, earning a dirty look. It was very strange to have him there again and acting like... this.

Alex let it go for the time being and attempted to figure out this strange structure. "Fold right out my ass," she complained, trying to make sense of the stupid thing. Jamie shrugged helplessly when Alex looked at her in rising exasperation. Dean came out of the bathroom just in time to see his sister get completely frustrated, sit back, and throw her hands up. "This is like a total mindfuck!" she complained, then clapped a hand over her mouth, looking at the baby in horrified mortification. "Shit, sorry—oh my god." Her hand went to her forehead and she moaned pathetically at her automatic use of profanity.

"That kid's first words are gonna be bleeps, and it's all your fault," Dean teased as he walked over to where she was. "Seriously, Al, these are the easiest things to put together. You just pull these, snap that up, push down here—" suddenly, there was an actual structure in front of her and it looked like a crib. "Presto. Baby cage."

"Baby cage?" Jamie asked, and she obviously thought his choice of words caught her off guard and she thought they were funny. In fact, Alex didn't know when she'd seen Jamie grin that widely before—where her eyes crinkled up and sort of sparkled.

Dean seemed pleased with himself and his joke and gave one of his little smug grinning smirks. Alex rolled her eyes. He wasn't funny, he was a dork. "Here," he said, reaching for the baby. Jamie handed him off and Dean jostled Bobby John soothingly, walking him over to the pack and play while patting him on the back and humming Smoke on the Water again. The baby blinked sleepily, almost falling asleep then and there on Dean's shoulder. "Okay, if I put you down, you gonna be a man about it?" Dean asked. He gently laid the baby down into the makeshift crib… Bobby John was quiet, calm, and Dean drew back carefully. And the baby stayed quiet like magic, drifting off to sleep.

"Huh," Sam commented.

"Wow," Alex said.

"Nice," Jamie agreed.

Dean looked at all of them suspiciously. "What?"

"You're just, uh, actually, not awful at that," Sam said.

Dean brushed off the backhanded compliment. "Dude, I'm barely keeping that thing alive."

"No, no, no, seriously," Sam insisted. "You've got a whole Dr. Huxtable vibe coming off of you. You're like... father material."

"Yeah, well I kind of had to be lately, you know," Dean said, washing his hands at the kitchen sink thoroughly.

"You mean Ben," Sam guessed.

Dean shook the water off his hands and he glanced Jamie's way sort of mistrustfully—it was kind of a personal question Sam had just asked in the presence of non-family. "Yeah, I mean Ben," Dean confirmed, then cleared his throat, crossed his arms and shrugged with a smile, trying to put a positive spin on his self-deprecating tone. "I mean, I know he's not my kid, but I don't know, I'm starting to feel like... yeah, he is."

Sam made no reply—just looked at Dean without much emotional resonance. Dean seemed to visibly feel uncomfortable and rubbed a hand on the back of his neck.

"Coffee anyone?" Jamie asked as she went over to the little maker beside Dean. It had just finished brewing.

"Yes, all of it," Alex said. She was feeling how tired she was, again. She couldn't help it—another yawn escaped.

"Nah, I'm good," Sam said, focused on some papers he was rifling through.

"Think I'll take some hunter's helper," Dean said, gesturing at the bottle of whiskey that was on the little kitchenette counter. He helped himself as Jamie poured two mugs of coffee then handed one to Alex.

Bobby John made a soft, sleepy sound from further back in the room and Dean looked that direction, pausing with his glass of whiskey in hand then glancing at his sibling in turn. "You know, I think about the way we grew up, and…" he shook his head. "I kind of feel like I have a chance to do something different with Ben, you know? Something better than what we had."

Sam hesitated. "You sure about that?" He asked, earning a questioning look from his sister.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked sort of dubiously.

"Look, you clearly care about the kid. But moving them around? Keeping them on lockdown? I mean, you do have them on lockdown, right?" Sam looked at Dean meaningfully, and for a minute, Alex thought maybe that was Sam, that he hadn't changed—that he was just resigned or hiding his true self for some reason or another. Dean seemed to resent the line of questions and walked off a few steps further into the room. "Just… how is any of that different from how we were raised?" Sam prompted.

Dean sat down on the corner of the bed closest to Sam, whiskey in hand. "So you're saying…" he started, then glanced at both Jamie and Alex in turn, who were in the kitchen, feeling the awkward vibe. Alex sipped noisily on her coffee, trying to look like she wasn't paying very close attention—which of course she was. "Okay, and first of all? I don't appreciate you trying to talk to me about this with them here," Dean told Sam in no uncertain terms. He seemed defensive. "But I'm not shoving anybody into this life, okay? This is temporary. End of story."

Sam scoffed through a cynical little smile, never taking his eyes off Dean. "Dad always said it was temporary too, Dean. He said it for twenty-two years, and Alex can back me up on this if you wanna act like that didn't happen. Look, I get it. You wanna watch out for them. That's great. I'm just asking... how do you do that and not turn into our father?"

Dean opened his mouth to reply but was apparently speechless. He looked away, uncomfortable. "Dean has his problems but he's not Dad," Alex said defensively, cutting into the conversation without invitation. She'd accused Dean of being like Dad before yes, but she didn't like Sam's tone or Dean's distress.

Sam turned to look at her piercingly, his arm over the back of his chair. "You sure about that? This life does things to people."

"Like what it's done to you?" She challenged, not bothering to hide her bad attitude.

He frowned a little. "What do you mean?"

Alex regarded him coolly for a few seconds, decided against confronting him. "Nothing. Doesn't matter. You go back to your research." She sipped her coffee and looked away from him. Sam scoffed mildly, seeming to get that he'd just been dissed. Dean was quiet on the bed, drink forgotten. Jamie sipped at her coffee in the kitchenette, her expression seeming to suggest she was thinking about how awkward this was to witness.

The door opened at that moment and in came Glen, who stopped short for a second at the unexpected sight of Sam and Dean. "Whoa," he said, then cracked a grin and shut the door behind himself. He carried a plastic bag and a big backpack, which he tossed down beside the door. "What'd I miss? Hunter reunion or what?" He saw Dean and gave him a small chin raise. "Dean—" he turned to look at the other man in the room. "And... Sam, right?"

"Yeah, hey, nice to see you again." Sam stuck his hand out for a handshake.

"Same," Glen said, and the two men shook hands briefly before Glen turned to Alex and held up the bag in his hand—it said China Garden. "Picked you up some of your favorites—chicken lo mein and those deep fried donut things." He smiled at her hopefully and it had a very charming effect.

A little embarrassed for a reason she wasn't sure of, Alex took the bag. She wanted to be bitchy about it—her normal reaction to when he did stuff for her—but after their conversation last night, she thought maybe she'd misjudged him before. So she smiled tightly. "Thanks."

"What about me?" Jamie asked, jokingly challenging but also sort of serious from the look of it.

Her brother looked at her sort of uncertainly. "You don't like Chinese food." His sister gave him a look but didn't say anything. Glen shrugged a little. "My bad." He looked at the rooms occupants a little closer now. "So what's going on? You guys here to join us on this ghost hunt or whatever?"

"No, just stopping in to shoot the breeze a little," Dean said, faintly facetious. Alex noticed how he seemed decidedly hostile toward Glen and she got a little annoyed—why did he have to do that? God, if Dean was like this with her, how would be be if he ever had a teenage daughter?

"Crap. I can't believe I missed this," Sam suddenly said, staring at a piece of paper in his hand.

"What?" Dean asked.

"This house on Elm. The mother was killed, baby was grabbed, but daddy wasn't living in the house at the time so he's still alive. According to this he works at some auto body shop—not far from here. What do you say we go and have a chat? See what we can dig up?"

Dean shrugged mildly and stood up. "I say let's."

"No no no—you can't both go," Alex said, setting down her bag of food and halfway moving to block the door, even though no one had moved to leave. "Who the hell would watch the kid?"

"Uh—you?" Dean asked, alarming his sister completely.

"What kid?" Glen asked, putting his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans.

"The one over there," Sam said, nodding mildly over at the pack and play in the corner.

Glen noticed it for the first time, saw the sleeping baby through the mesh siding. He got a weird, questioning look on his face. "Whose is that?"

"Yours—baby mama showed up and left her here with us." Jamie snorted at her joke.

"No, really—this something to do with a job?" Glen asked, all business, ignoring his sister's attempt completely.

Dean confirmed. "Yeah, kids are being snatched up and a shifter's after this one."

"Interesting," Glen said, pouring himself some whiskey now and taking a couple good-sized sips.

"Okay look Dean—you can't leave that kid here, okay?" Alex asked, trying to stay on track. The baby was cute, but she was pretty sure that she'd accidentally kill it within thirty seconds if Dean left. "Sam and Glen can go or I can, but you are not going anywhere," she insisted.

Dean looked at Alex in a mixture of slight exasperation and mild fondness. "You know, I'm not sure who the bigger baby is—you or Bobby John," he said, and relented with a sigh. "I'll stay."

Sam looked at Glen, standing up. "You wanna tag along, man?" He was offering to be polite, it seemed like, and was faintly surprised when Glen agreed to it.

"Sure, why not." Glen downed more of the alcohol—all of it, actually—then pointed a finger-gun at Alex playfully, like he was saying 'catchya later.' Sam made a slight face, like okay, fine at the prospect of having the guy riding shotgun.

"You two be careful out there," Dean said and he watched the two of them leave, his expression somehow reluctant or suspicious, Alex wasn't sure which or who that suspicion was aimed at. She was just relieved he wasn't leaving her and Jamie alone with the baby. The door shut behind the two tall ones and the room was back to four occupants—a man, two women, and a sleeping baby.

Jamie returned to sorting through bullets on one of the beds. Dean looked a little cagey and paced with his whiskey, glancing at the baby a few times. Alex dug out her little carton of lo mein and fished for the chopsticks that were lost in the bottom of the bag. Dean glanced at her as he turned, beginning to pace up back toward her again. "Want some?" Alex offered, indicating the carton in her hand.

Her oldest brother seemed distracted. He looked at the bag Glen had given her almost in unease. "I'm good."

---

Two guys who could almost be called giants—both almost six-and-a-half feet tall, loped out to Sam's black Charger—a new model car with a sleek body and an eye catching design. "I think the shop is like ten minutes from here," Sam told Glen as they settled into the seats.

"Not bad," Glen commented, distracted. He was texting on his phone.

Sam started the engine and got them on the road. He remembered Glen from when they were kids—he'd been tall then too but a lot smaller physically. The guy was huge now, imposing and commanding. In fact, if Glen was good at hunting, Sam thought maybe he'd be a good addition to the Campbell team. "So, still hunting," he commented, deciding to feel the guy out about that possibility.

"Here and there," Glen said, still focused on his phone. "I got other things I do, too."

"Like what?"

Glen smirked slightly. "Whatever I feel like." He was proud of it, clearly. He glanced at Sam meaningfully. "Most of the things I like are on the less than legal side, if you know what I mean."

No, Sam didn't know what he meant, but he liked the confident sort of bragging tone Glen used. It made him think of the Campbells—Christian in particular. It was quiet for another couple minutes and Sam decided to test another theory he'd developed back there in the motel room. "You seem into my sister."

Glen glanced at Sam sidelong, pausing. "And if I am?"

Sam shrugged. "Fine, I guess." He thought about it. "I don't really care, to be honest. But I will tell you this… the guy she was with before? You're up against some pretty steep competition."

Glen seemed to think that was funny and Sam didn't understand why. "Nothing I can't handle." The blond hunter seemed to be feeling superior and smug. "I saw him once. Really dweeby looking guy." He was full-on pompous and conceited, obviously pretty sure he had nothing to worry about. "I think I got this in the bag."

Sam just chuckled, taking the social cue. Whatever, it didn't matter, and the subject was suddenly boring him anyway. Relationships, people, conversations... he couldn't find it within himself to really care. He could act like he cared (and he'd figured out fast that he needed to act that way, that people didn't trust him if he showed his utter apathy). In a way, it brought him satisfaction to act one way and see people react to what they thought were his genuine feelings and thoughts. Sam felt like he had the higher hand, like he was the smarter one, that he was in control. He liked that. He liked being the one who was pulling the strings.

Ever since coming back from the dead, it was all base motivation for Sam: food, sex, violence. Not sleep—he didn't sleep, at all, ever. More time to train, to hunt, to excel. He didn't have all those little annoying gray emotions and feelings anymore; everything was black and white, and he either cared or didn't care. And truthfully… he didn't really care about anything anymore. It was freeing, actually, it felt better to exist this way. He was all logic and calculation. It was a colder existence than he remembered leading before, but he felt superior, machine-like, untouchable and not weak.

Being around Dean was sort of annoying to him, because his brother seemed to expect him to be someone else entirely and it was exhausting keeping up the charade. Still, he did, because he needed Dean's help—also, he had this strange thought that he owed the guy. Suddenly there was a distinct, stark flicker of doubt. Sam frowned. Strange.

---

Sitting across from Jamie, Dean looked at her tattoo plainly as she double checked some shotgun rounds. "That's not what reapers really look like, you know," he commented and took another little sip of whiskey.

She looked at him briefly, sort of smirking a challenge. "I like him. I call him Mort. Get it?"

Dean squinted slightly. "Uh… no."

"Mort...ality?"

Dean did get it then and it wasn't clear if he were laughing at her or at the bad pun. "Dork." She grinned lightheartedly, accepting the label graciously and enjoying her little pun.

"So. I thought you were out, Dean," Alex said. She was standing up and eating the last of the Chinese takeout straight out of the carton. Glen and Sam had been gone awhile now and she'd reheated the food.

Dean looked at her briefly and she saw how guilty he felt. "I am out. This is just me helping Sam out cuz Samuel's upstate somewhere and Sam, apparently, is just as good with babies as you are." He looked at her teasingly as he stood up. "And you're basically the worst."

"No arguments there," Alex agreed, setting her finished carton of food down on top of the TV, looking down at Bobby John who was fast asleep on his back in the pack and play. His hands were in loose little fists and he had his arms up on either side of his head. "You know, he's cute when he's not screaming at me," she admitted fondly. Dean came to stand beside her.

"I don't think it was personal," he joked. "He was just upset that his diaper was a friggin' war zone." He shivered as if from a bad memory.

"It's weird we were all that size once," Alex commented, not really able to understand it at the moment, how every person she'd ever met had been that tiny once.

Dean got quiet, reflective. "I remember when you and Sammy were that small," he said softly, contemplating Bobby John with nostalgia. Alex looked at her brother thoughtfully.

Jamie's phone rang loudly, cutting through the moment. "Hello? Hey Irv. No, sorry. I'm not in the area. What are you—oh. Yeah I still have those files. I think they're in my car. Can you hold on a sec?" She pushed herself off the bed. "I'll be back in a few," she told the Winchesters and then she left the room.

Dean smiled at his sister tightly and walked off a few steps. She turned to watch him and seized the opportunity for a private conversation. "You really have them on lockdown? Lisa and Ben?"

He looked down at the glass in his hand, his jaw tensing. "Yeah. Yeah I do." He looked up at her and shrugged helplessly. "What else am I supposed to do? I put them in danger by just being part of their lives. And now I gotta keep them safe from the things in my past. I mean, those djinn a couple months ago… if they found out that dose they jacked me up on didn't work—they would've come back, made sure they finished the job. If Lisa and Ben were there… if they got hurt in any way…" he sighed, burdened and haunted. "We've made a lot of enemies over the years," he lamented. "And any more of them catch wind of where I am, who's important to me…" he paused. "Lisa and Ben, they're not like you and Sam. They wouldn't stand a chance." He got quiet. "Sometimes I do think it'd be safer for them if I just high-tailed it outta there but… where the hell would I go?" He was ranting at this point almost. "With Sam?" He seemed opposed to the idea and upset that he was opposed to it. "I dunno." He cleared his throat then became hesitant, studying her in reluctant hope. "You, uh, you thought anymore about you and me? Hitting the road again?"

Alex sighed softly, feeling pressured. "Dean, I told you. I don't wanna be the swing vote. You have to decide if you're staying with Lisa and Ben before I think about it. I mean, you've always wanted this, right? And now you have it. And maybe, who knows, no other skeletons will come creeping out of the closet to get you. Maybe those djinn were the last."

"Your optimism is real respectable," he wisecracked, "but come on, this is us we're talking about. Do the demons and monsters ever stop coming?" Fair point. Alex conceded with a slight shrug of her eyebrows. Dean sat down at the table and set down his drink with a clunk, rubbing his face tiredly with his hand in thought for a little while. "I keep thinking about that crazy dreamworld those blue-eyed assholes' dad put me in all those years ago," he murmured. "Sometimes I really do wanna go back there."

A little caught off guard by the sudden subject change, Alex tried to follow. "Wait, what—you mean that djinn who dosed you up back like five years ago?"

"No, the other one," Dean quipped sullenly.

"Okay, okay, sorry," Alex chuckled, raising her hands in mock-defense. She sat down opposite her brother and glanced at all the papers Sam had left there briefly. "You never did tell us the whole story, you know. Of what stuff you saw in your little dreamworld."

"Ah, I told you enough," he said, waving a hand in dismissal.

Alex looked at him in exasperation. "No you didn't," she said, remembering how it had gone down that night maybe five years ago or so...

Dean paged through a magazine morosely while sitting on the edge of a motel bed. Alex was sitting with her back leaned into Dean's as she sat cross-legged cleaning out a pistol, the parts scattered in front of her on the bedspread. Just a couple hours ago she and Sam had saved their brother from overdosing on djinn. Now he was being really quiet about the whole thing. Something was obviously bothering him. Alex thought it was probably because whatever fantasy that the djinn had sent him tripping balls on had been so great that reality was a depressing in comparison. It was depressing anyway. She blew some carbon dust out of the gun slide she was cleaning.

"You all right?" Sam asked, sitting down beside Dean, whose general demeanor was upset, distracted, and sad.

Dean cleared his throat lightly. "Yeah. I'm all right." He didn't sound all right and he wouldn't look at Sam. Alex stopped what she was doing and listened, sensing that something important was about to be said. Dean took a few beats, thinking deeply. "Should have seen it, guys. Our lives." A soft, bittersweet smile came onto his face. So he had dreamed about them. She should have known. "You were both total wussies."

Sam chuckled, grinned, understanding, Alex smirked down into her lap. "So we didn't get along then, huh?" Sam asked.

"No," Dean confirmed, not smiling anymore. "It was us, it was out lives but we… just didn't really mesh. We were civil, but we weren't, I dunno. Friends."

Alex frowned to herself, then Sam said exactly what she'd been thinking: "But I thought it was supposed to, to be this perfect fantasy," he ventured, frowning a little, confused.

"Yeah, well, it wasn't," Dean said, and he was deeply upset—it was easy to tell. He set the magazine he'd been halfheartedly looking through down. "It was just a wish. I wished for Mom to live. Mom never died, we never went hunting and so the three of us… we just kinda drifted apart and lived these boring, normal lives. But we weren't really family. Not like we are now."

"Yeah," Sam said softly, compassionately. Behind Dean, Alex had turned a little in concern, the firearm forgotten. Sam was gentle with his big brother. "Well, I'm glad we are." Dean turned to fully look at him. "And I'm glad you dug yourself out, Dean. Most people wouldn't have the strength, would have just stayed."

"Yeah… lucky me," Dean replied in soft cynicism. "I gotta tell you though, man." He stood up, careful not to set Alex off balance when he did. "You know, you had Jess. Mom was gonna have grandkids. And uh… Alex. She could talk." She turned to look at him in wide-eyed surprise and curiosity, her stomach flipping, her heart melting a little. He got a little smile on his face, like he was remembering and was sad about it because it wasn't real. "And you were friggin' hilarious, kiddo." He put his hands in his pockets and looked down sadly as he leaned against the TV set.

"Dean... it wasn't real," Sam reminded gently, trying to encourage. Alex turned around completely, she now sat where Dean had a minute ago, legs off the edge of the bed.

The oldest Winchester just got quiet, more upset. His voice was soft and broken when he finally spoke. "I know. But I wanted it to be. And I wanted to stay." He almost looked like he could cry, like confessing it broke his heart. "I wanted to stay so bad. I mean, ever since Dad... all I can think about is how much this job's cost us." He paused, even as his sister got up and came to his side. He tried not to look at her. "We've lost so much," he managed, eyebrows furrowing together in an attempt to hold himself together. "W-we've... sacrificed so much."

"But people are alive because of you," Sam said, to which Dean scoffed and looked down, blinking away tears. "It's worth it, Dean. It is. It's not fair, and... you know, it hurts like hell, but... it's worth it."

Dean met his brother's gaze. "You sure about that Sammy?" he asked brokenly. He shook his head again, burying his face in a hand. Alex went onto tiptoes and circled her arms around her big brother, hugging him tightly. It was all she could do. Silently tell him it's okay.

That's all Dean had really ever said about it—Alex had tried later to ask him about it with her notebook—she remembered scrawling wanna talk about it? But he'd just smiled sadly, ruffled her hair, and shaken his head no then patted her on the shoulder and told her not to worry about it. She'd always wanted to know more but figured if Dean didn't wanna say and left it at that. But now she was dying once again to know what kind of life she'd lived in that fantasy world Dean had created. So she pressed gently since he'd already sort of started the conversation.

"I had my voice, right? I remember you said that." He looked at her out of the side of his eye quietly and Alex prompted him again. "What kinda job did I work?"

He chuckled, looking down at his whiskey with a fond little smile. "You were a boring-as-hell-secretary at some law firm."

"You made me a secretary?" Alex asked, balking playfully. "Come on, you could have made me something a little cooler—you know I wanted to be a space gymnast growing up."

Dean grinned and chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, still pretty sure that's not a real thing."

"I was gonna be the pioneer," Alex reminded and grabbed his glass from him, stealing a sip as she wiggled her eyebrows at him. "I mean, backflips with no gravity. And you were gonna be my astronaut assistant, remember?" She frowned a little, trying to figure out what that job title she'd thought up as a kid even meant.

Dean looked at her with a soft smile. "Yeah, maybe someday we can still do that." They shared a we're so stupid smile and laugh.

And then Dean grew a little somber, deeply introspective, his eyes going somewhere far away. "You were safe. Maybe your life was boring, but… in that world, you were okay." He smiled to himself a little bit, bittersweet. "Mom was alive, you had your voice and were married to some accountant guy, Sam and Jess were together, just got engaged… everyone was happy. But everyone was, was scattered. You lived a few cities away—Sam freakin' lived on the other side of the country. We weren't close, I mean you and I got along but… just like with me and Sammy, there was like some kinda bad blood there. We weren't family like we are now." He seemed a little unsettled at that point, frowned deeply. "And you weren't really you anymore. You dressed like, I dunno, an uptight church lady. And you didn't even know what a camshaft or a fan belt was." At her frown that asked and why did that come up, Dean explained. "Mom's car was busted and I suggested you take a look at it. And then you ladies both laughed your asses off at me. You and I apparently only saw each other on holidays. If that."

Alex considered everything he'd just told her, half amused at it, and also sort of disturbed. "That sounds kind of more like a nightmare," she said, then realized Dean hadn't mentioned someone. "And Dad? What'd he do?"

Dean cleared his throat, unsettled. "Oh, uh… he was dead."

Her eyebrows rose up high. "Dad was dead in your fantasy world?"

Dean avoided her gaze guiltily. "Why do you think I never wanted to talk about what I dreamed? What did it say about me, you know? I don't… I still don't know."

Alex swallowed painfully, heart suddenly beating fast. If she was ever going to talk about this… now was the time. And she felt like Dean needed to hear this, too—he looked like he needed reassurance and understanding. "You know, it's okay. I didn't know how to feel when Dad died, Dean. In fact... I sort of felt… relieved." Her brother looked at her with both hurt and empathy all at once and Alex tried to make him understand. "It freaks me out that I felt like that—what kind of person or daughter does that make me, you know? I loved him but I also wanted him gone and… I still don't know how to feel about him. Not really." There would forever be a longing there to understand better. "It wasn't our fault that he was the way he was," Alex continued, lost in painful thoughts and feelings. "And I don't think we should have ever felt like we had any responsibility for the things he decided to do." Dean's gaze flickered up to hers briefly. "I think he was a good man, I do," Alex said emphatically. "But along the way he… got lost. It was all too much for him." She bitterly thought about how she understood insanity a little better these days than before. Some things were too much to carry. John Winchester had been many things... human being number one.

Dean was quiet. "Yeah," he replied softly, then took his whiskey back from her and drank some more, brooding.

In the back of the room Bobby John stirred and began to fuss softly. Alex looked toward the kid, getting a little nervous, then at Dean who would know what to do. "What's wrong with him? What do we do?"

Dean gestured toward the kid by using his whiskey glass. He was a little distracted, still. "Pick him up, hold him awhile."

"What? Uh-uh, you do it," Alex said, shaking her head no.

Dean looked at her, obviously thinking you are ridiculous. "Alex. I've seen you face down demons, wraiths, vamps. Pick up the baby and stop being one."

Alex stood up and huffed, mad that he was making her. She edged toward the little makeshift crib. How did you even pick up a baby? And what if she made him cry harder? Bobby John was whimpering sadly and Alex felt a little of her own hesitation fade as she saw him. Poor guy. Okay. She leaned down and carefully scooped him up, hefting him up into her arms. His little face was just above her shoulder and she held on tight, afraid to drop him. Dean smiled crookedly, tiredly, summoning some amusement at his sister's am I doing this right expression. "Pat him on the back a little," he suggested, and Alex did, then imitated what Dean had done earlier with the gentle rocking-jostling motion. It seemed to work. Bobby John calmed a little, began to soothe. His head rested on Alex's shoulder now, he hiccuped a little as he settled. "There, see?" Dean asked. "It's not rocket science."

It was kind of sweet, this little trusting human laying his little head on her and using her as a pillow. She actually kind of liked it and began to relax as she walked back and forth like Dean had. Alex decided to try humming—Pour Some Sugar On Me—the first thing she thought of. She only realized how inappropriate that was a few bars into the song, and by then, she just kind of went with it. Dean chuckled when he recognized the melody and Alex shot him a look—kept humming. Just be glad I'm not singing dude—you know I can't carry a tune for shit.

Bobby John seemed to relax more too and after a minute he let out the cutest little tired stuttering sigh she'd ever heard. Poor little guy… he seemed okay again and Alex carefully, gingerly laid him down into the pack and play again, drawing away carefully, like she was afraid to shatter something. He settled down, blinking sleepily. Maybe he'd had a little bad dream and that's why he'd cried a minute ago. Did babies dream bad things, too? Alex wondered.

Jamie came back in at that moment, no longer on her phone. Dean acknowledged her with a glance, downing the rest of his whiskey, Alex stood back and watched Bobby John for a minute, then decided she could go for the same thing—a nap. The coffee she'd attempted to drink earlier hadn't really helped. She went over to the bed that didn't have Jamie's things strewn all over it and flopped down onto her stomach. Not even five seconds later, the bed suddenly bounced as Dean flopped down beside her on his back.

"Hey!" Alex protested, then laughed and pushed him away—or tried. "Get off!"

"Make me, shortstop," he said, and began to mess with the Magic Fingers controls beside the bed.

"Dean, you know I hate Magic Fingers," she complained but he ignored her, chuckling low in his throat as he goaded her. Same old Dean. She elbowed him in the side and he made a sound of protest, more because it tickled than anything else. She sighed when the bed relaxation system her brother was so obsessed with came on. Really, she felt like a grain of rice being jolted around on top of a spinning washing machine. But Dean sighed happily and relaxed, his head propped up with his hands behind his head. "You're such a loser," she muttered, but she wasn't exactly unhappy. He was so familiar, so steadfast. She thought about it, saying yes to hunting with him again. Really, what was holding her back, anyway?

On the other bed loading a shotgun, Jamie smiled fleetingly with a note of sadness when she glanced at the Winchesters. She and her brother had never been on terms like that—ever.

Alex was drifting off to sleep when there was a strange splatting sound and Bobby John started to cry, loudly—different than before, and it was clear that something was wrong. Dean had already sat up ramrod straight, Alex was a millisecond behind him, twisting up into a sitting position. Jamie got there first and stood over the crying baby. "Uh… guys?" She bent down, picking the baby up, then turned around, her expression strange—Dean and Alex froze when they saw. Bobby John was no longer Caucasian and blue-eyed. He was now Black.

And suddenly it made sense. Dean said what they were all thinking. "Oh my god, the shifter is his dad!"

"What should we do?" Jamie asked, looking slightly panicked: Bobby John had bits of skin and blood all over him. He was crying hard and loud, obviously scared by what had just happened. But even though he was basically gooey and disgusting after shedding skin, Jamie didn't seem to care, she held the baby close, getting all the mess all over her. Shh, shhhh, she encouraged, trying to calm the inconsolable baby down.

"Sink—bath—now," Dean said, and pointed the way to the kitchenette.

"What does this even mean?" Alex asked, blindsided, hanging back as Dean and Jamie worked as a team. "I thought you said Bobby John's parents were dead—was one of them a shifter?"

"I don't know," Dean said, a little busy at the moment. "Rinse this part off," he told Jamie, moving poor, confused, hysterical Bobby John around in the sink as they basically hosed the poor kid down.

"He's being too loud, make him be quiet," Alex said, getting anxious.

"I can't," Dean said, increasingly frustrated.

"Almost done, Bobby John, it's okay, sorry—" Jamie used a dishrag to wipe his face off and he hated it, screamed even louder. "Eesh," she commented at the rising hysterics.

"Blanket," Dean commanded. Alex grabbed one from his pile of baby stuff and tossed it to him.

A sudden pounding sounded at the door, startling them all. "Manager!" a voice announced. "Everything okay in there?"

Dean glanced at the door, irritated, handing the blanket to Jamie. "Yeah, no, we're fine," he said loudly. "Thank you, good night."

"There's been complaints," the male voice on the other side of the door said. "Mind opening the door, sir?"

Dean shook his head at Alex, who had made to move forward. "It's not a good time," Dean said loudly, handing the baby off to Jamie and helping her to wrap the loud baby up snuggly. "Just got out of the shower."

The doorknob rattled and in unison all three hunters reacted, realizing that was not the manager out there—Alex backed up fast and dropped to a knee, digging with fast fingers through her weapon bag for a silver knife even as Jamie shrank back into the kitchen corner holding the baby protectively. Dean held a hand out to her, telling her silently to be still. He edged toward the door, ready to attack. The door unlocked and burst open even as Alex got a grip on her silver blade and stood, her hair swinging around her at the force with which she whirled. A police officer stood there, only, Alex was pretty sure he wasn't a police officer. Standing right inside the door and to the side, Dean hadn't been seen yet by the shifter. Alex baited him, knowing exactly what Dean was planning.

"Come and get me, slimy," she taunted. He barged in, heading straight for her, drawing his gun just in time to get attacked—Dean lunged, pushing him sideways into the wall so hard that the shifter lost his grip on his gun. The shifter was barely affected, he used brute force and shoved Dean back toward Alex. The shifter spotted Jamie—it was hard not to, as the baby was still making a racket and sobbing uncontrollably.

"Give me the child and maybe I won't harm you," the shifter said, stepping toward her once.

Dean lunged at the shifter again, knocking him sideways then slashing him across the face with a silver knife. Surprisingly strong, the shifter grabbed Dean and threw him at Alex, who had been one step away with her knife raised. She flew backwards and she and Dean crashed into the TV set painfully.

"The baby, now," the shifter demanded, and advanced on Jamie, fast, hard, deadly intent in his eyes. Genuine fear flashed across Jamie's face—she had no weapon and Dean and Alex were on the ground—and she lost her cool.

"Get back!" she cried out the second before the shifter was about to touch her, and her voice rang loudly, a thunderous power contained inside of it intertwined with a high pitched sound that could shatter glass—and, apparently, did. All the glass objects in proximity broke in unison as a powerful wind billowed over the room—it blew the shifter backwards and it was as if her voice itself had ripped through him—he exploded in a huge splat of blood and guts and Jamie fell down into an awkward sitting position, barely managing to keep a hold of Bobby John.

Alex shoved the TV set off of herself even as Dean stood up breathlessly in the beginnings of confusion and horror. "What the—" He looked at the bloody remains then Jamie, who was breathing hard and had a wild look in her eyes. He swooped down and snatched the crying baby from her and backed up, scanning the wreckage in aghast realization—in the blast of wind, her duffel had fallen over and hex bags littered both the floor and bed. Blindsided, Dean gaped at Jamie. "...Y—you're a witch?" he asked softly, then turned to look at Alex in rapidly rising amounts of anger. "You've been hunting this whole time with a goddamn witch?!" He clutched the baby hard. He looked betrayed and a little scared.

"Dean, not all witches are—" Alex started, pushing herself up to stand. The leg of her jeans was torn open thanks to the broken TV.

"Yes they are! Did you hit your head?!" Dean shouted. "We know how witches become witches, Alex! They make deals with demons! And the more powerful the witch, the more under a demon's thumb she is!" He looked at Jamie like she was contagious. She was on her knees, winded and wounded, a hand against the cabinets beside her for support. "So whose hellbitch are you, huh?" he asked cruelly. "Crowley? Meg? Who?"

Jamie's face was cold at his words. Her jaw tightened against clear hurt. "I'm no one's bitch." Her voice shook.

"Well someone's yanking your leash to give you power like that!" Dean thundered.

"Dean—" Alex protested at his overreaction. "Take it easy, would you?!"

"Take it easy?" he echoed incredulously, looking at her like she'd never suggested anything crazier in his whole life.

Jamie attempted to stand, pushing herself up on her knees. She was hurt and angry. "Look, think whatever you want of me but I just saved—oh." Her legs gave out and she stumbled back and sideways and her shoulder hit against a lower kitchenette cabinet door painfully. She let out a hiss of discomfort and she coughed weakly, blood splattering out of her mouth. She looked like she was going to pass out. Dean faltered, unsure about his anger for a second. Alex hurried to Jamie and crouched beside her, helping her stay upright. Jamie looked like she might fall down any second but she stared up at Dean, whose face began to bear more and more disgust. Something seemed to snap in the witch's emotions. "Maybe I didn't ask for this!" Jamie thundered, eyes glittering in a surprisingly wounded outburst.

For the briefest moment, Dean was conflicted... and then he shook his head and set his features like stone. "All witches ask to be witches," he said, full of scorn. "Don't try and act like you didn't."

Just as quickly as she'd shown emotion, Jamie withdrew and became expressionless. Her voice was low, quiet, soft. "Take the kid and go."

"Yeah, no, you don't gotta tell me twice," Dean muttered. They heard commotion at the still-open doorway. Sam and Glen came in, both of them seeming to be confused at what they were seeing—the room a wreck, guts everywhere, Jamie collapsed, Dean holding the baby angrily.

"Something going on?" Sam asked, looking from Jamie to Alex to Dean in turn. Dean gave his brother a no shit, Sherlock evil eye, already grabbing up some of his stuff one handed in preparation to leave.

"What's the problem?" Glen followed up, reading the mood of the room. "Who exploded all over the floor? And the wall?"

"We found out the baby's dad is a shifter," Sam said, then looked at the blood everywhere, the silver knife Alex still held. "So… I'm guessing you guys just saw him."

"Yeah, we did," Dean snapped, and, bag of stuff in hand, glared around at everyone indiscriminately. "We're leaving. Sam, get your crap. Come on, Alex."

Still down on the floor with Jamie, Alex looked at her brother angrily, surprised he would even ask her that. "No."

Dean lost his cool. "Why the hell not?" he demanded roughly. Alex shook her head and looked away, she was ashamed at his behavior and also not terribly surprised, which made her even more crestfallen. She said nothing, further angering—and scaring her brother. "It's dangerous, Alex, you shouldn't stay with them!"

Alex stood up and crossed her arms defensively. "These people are my friends, Dean!" Sadness flickered over her face and she set her jaw, resigned and bitter. Mourning his loss already. "Why don't you head out, huh?" She was sarcastic purposefully. "I'll call you later."

He wasn't happy about it and let her know with his general demeanor but he nodded tersely. "Yeah, great," he muttered. "Don't listen to me. As usual." He shook his head and left. Sam followed, giving Alex a glance and some weird kind of forced smile as he left.

Alex shut the door behind her brothers, a hand on her forehead as she gritted her teeth together because why did it always have to go this way?! She'd forgotten about how Dean's overreactions tended to go. It's dangerous, he said. Please. He was so overly dramatic and shortsighted sometimes. Rolling her eyes in exasperation, she shut the door harder than needed behind her brother and went to apologize to Jamie and help her up as Glen stood in a corner of the room, arms crossed, watchful.

Alex didn't know that Dean was one hundred percent right about it being dangerous for her there.