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.

63. Winchester Mystery House

Song Remains the Same

Chapter 63 / Winchester Mystery House

"We need ghost stories because we, in fact, are the ghosts."
- Stephen King

---

Two Weeks Later

Alex was in Bobby's study, feet kicked up (shoes and all) onto his desk as she sat in his seat with a thick volume balanced against her thighs. Bobby and Rufus were a few cities over hunting a rugaru and Alex stayed behind to hold down the fort. Which, in more plain speech, meant answering the numerous fake phonelines Bobby ran: The FBI, CDC, federal marshal, health department, police. A very small group of hunters knew about and used these numbers as part of various covers. So far she'd only had to answer the phones twice. Still, it was pretty amazing what trust people placed in the voice of a stranger on the other end of the line.

She flipped to another page of the book she was studying and reached for more coffee. It was about twelve in the afternoon and she'd been reading since the early hours of the morning thanks to insomnia. Her neck was stiff, her eyes were tired, and her body was stiff from sitting there for so long. Also, this volume, The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind, was just about as fun of a read as it sounded... and that was the thing about research. You had to be patient. Willing to sift through mountains of irrelevant and boring facts in order to find just one relevant one. So far, Alex had scribbled one note that read: this book sucks. So… more bupkus on anything that would prove useful to the soulless Sam situation. But there were still a couple hundred pages of the convoluted psychology crap to get through. Maybe she'd find something yet.

"Hello, love."

Alex flailed in surprise, spilling and dropping her coffee as she jumped up to stand at the out-of-nowhere voice right across from her. Crowley was standing on the other side of the desk, smirking lazily. Dammit, how did he keep getting in here? Amusement played in his cocky expression and Alex set her face hard.

"It's rude to come in without knocking," she said and threateningly snatched up her angel blade from where it had been set on the desk.

Crowley was as cool as rain, his hands in his overcoat pockets. "And it's also rude to throw knives," he returned mildly, referring to the last time he'd shown up and she'd tried to kill him. His smile widened in self-pleasure. "Looks like we're even. So why don't we let this one slide, eh? Or are you really that eager to stick something of yours into me?" He waggled his eyebrows once.

Oh please. Alex rolled her eyes. "Har har," she commented, trying to sound aloof and unruffled. "What do you want."

Crowley craned his neck slightly, curiosity on his features as he peered down at the fallen book on the floor. "Goodness me, isn't that past your kindergarten reading level?" He had that smug, superior smile on his face again. "I see what you're doing, and it's sweet but ineffective, I'm afraid. Trying to find a loophole so you can get big baby Samantha off my hook. Sorry. Won't happen."

Alex definitely wanted to stab him at this point and clenched her blade tighter, wishing he wasn't such a sly bastard—there was bound to be a Hellhound nearby. She raised her chin fractionally in defiance. "We'll see."

Crowley's mouth crooked up to one side and he paced toward the study window leisurely, hands clasped behind his back. Alex rounded the desk slowly, keeping calculated distance between herself and the demon. "Speaking of family…" he turned around and gave her an unsettling look over. "Can't help but notice the three amigos are… discombobulated. You here, them halfway across the country..."

Alex set the blade down with a loud crack onto Bobby's desk, frustrated. She crossed her arms. "And?"

"And… why aren't you off hunting with Ape and Moose?" Crowley asked, his low voice wrapped in rough velvet. "I seem to recall that was part of our arrangement."

Realizing Crowley was here to try and get her to work for him too, her hackles raised even further. "Look, you already got two Winchesters," she said, expression dark. "Don't push your luck with me."

His eyes narrowed slightly and his cool facade grew testy, matching hers. "You don't get it, do you darling?" he asked, approaching her again. She stood her ground. "I'm not asking you a favor. I'm telling you." His face twisted. "Quit dicking around and get that bratty little ass of yours back on the road with your smarmy brothers and get me my sodding monsters!"

The outburst did nothing but intrigue her. Why was he so desperate for these big bads? He was invested in this and it showed. Alex studied him with coolness, feeling almost like she had the upper hand. "What are you up to, Crowley?" she asked in a quiet, sly way, holding her ground like his close proximity didn't make her skin crawl.

"None'a your concern, pet, and I'll thank you not to ask me that again," he said in a hard, dark voice. He backed off a bit, picked up a brass owl paperweight off of Bobby's desk, and looked at the object with distaste then fixed her with a false smile as he put it back. "Tell me, whose idea was it to put you on the shelf again? Was it the overbearing big brother? Or the overprotective hubby?" He tutted his tongue regretfully. "I'm disappointed. You, letting those alpha male berks dictate your life, tell you you're too weak and small to hunt." A year ago, Alex would have lost her temper at the accusations because she had believed those things of herself. Now she knew exactly what she was capable of and didn't blink at his words. Crowley was just trying to manipulate her into working for him. He wasn't going to have any luck with that. But Crowley was still running his mouth and trying anyway. "Pathetic, really. Holed up here reading books. Whatcha going to do, papercut me into giving Sam his soul back?"

Alex was almost enjoying this now, Crowley trying his damndest and still failing to unnerve her. "Are you done yet?" she asked, letting a cold, smug smile play on her lips. "I'm not working for you. Not now and not ever."

Crowley's eyes glinted with cruel intent. "Mm. That so? Well. Wouldn't it be a shame if in my distress at your refusal I let it slip to a certain older brother about nuptials that took place last year…?" Alex's bravado faltered and Crowley saw it. His smile widened. "It can stay our little secret, darling, all you have to do is what I say." Alex ground her teeth together so tightly that she thought her bones might break. Crowley's eyebrow popped up as his smile flared upward on one side. "Dear me," Crowley purred. "I think she wants to stab me again."

Alex saw no point in trying to trick Crowley into thinking she didn't care about Dean finding out. "You tell him and I'll kill you," she promised in a growl.

Crowley chuckled, finding her threat amusing. "Just imagine the look on that supermodel face of his when he realizes what his darling baby sister's kept from him all this time."

Freaking out internally about her oldest brother finding out from the wrongest person at the wrongest time, Alex used the only desperate little leverage she had in her pocket. "What if I told you I had a piece of information that might just save your saggy ass, Crowley?"

His eyebrows rose in faint surprise. "'Scuse me?"

Alex's voice trembled with furious assertiveness. "You agree never to say a damn thing to anyone ever about me and Cas and you don't give me shit for taking the sidelines and I'll tell you what I know."

"Don't make me laugh," Crowley said, impatience playing in his eyes. "You couldn't possibly know anything I don't know."

Alex took that bet. "You got a high-rank red-haired demon girl in your Hell posse of yours?" The slightest instance of surprise showed in Crowley's eyes and he had no snarky remark for her, only the slightest frown. "I'll take that as a yes," Alex said, irritated that she was telling Crowley this at all. "Well, I have it on good authority that she's building a little army behind your back to kick you out of office."

Crowley's entire demeanor darkened dangerously. "And how is it, exactly, that you would know this?" he asked carefully.

"Heard it straight from the mouth of one of her asshole recruits," Alex answered, a wan smile stretching her lips tight as she remembered Glen with eyes black as night moments before he died. Crowley looked very unsure about believing her and Alex pointed out the obvious: "Would I make this up, Crowley? I'm a little crazy, but come on—I'm not stupid enough to lie to the King of Hell."

Crowley eyed her closely for a moment, clearly disliking this turn of events. "No, you're not, are you," he commented flatly, and she saw how genuine anger rippled across his features, tightening his jaw. "That manky little bint," he muttered, shaking his head with an oddly blank look on his face. He looked at Alex and appeared bereft of his usual airs. "And here I thought she and I would be maiming and torturing together for all eternity."

Alex didn't feel sorry for him. "I just did you a huge favor," she said balefully. "Now you keep your end and maybe I won't have my husband come smite the shit out of your ass." She used the word 'husband' for emphasis and threat alike and using it out loud surprised her (was he really?), stunned her (wow, he is), empowered her (he'd do anything for me—including smite this dumbass).

Crowley rolled his eyes at that, appearing to be over her completely and not at all impressed at the threat. He turned as if to go and then paused, giving Alex a serious, impatient look. "Word to the wise. Don't ever try and leverage anything over me again. This's a one time thing, littlest Winchester. You're lucky I tolerate you. Just 'cause you have that angel on your shoulder doesn't mean a demon like me can't drag you down."

He disappeared into thin air and Alex expelled a heavy, cynical breath. "Nice to see you too," she muttered, then took in a deep, shaken breath and looked around the study as if she were angry with the four walls.

She was struck by an urge and went around the house checking the little demon warding Bobby had in place. It was hard to completely ward a house without drawing all over the windows and walls, plus Crowley was the only demon who'd ever presented this problem of coming and going as he pleased, but still. She checked the salt lines on the windows and the traps concealed underneath welcome mats at the doors. Everything was in order. Which just frustrated and unsettled her further.

The house felt very lonely and quiet with just her there. Dean had called earlier to say hi and that he and Sam were investigating some goofy case over in some small town in Indiana—people were talking about alien abductions or something. It sort of sounded like fun and Alex was mildly down-in-the-dumps about missing it. Aside from that rogue cupid hunt two weeks ago, it had been boredom city around here. Bobby promised next hunt he caught wind of, they'd take together. So for now, it was nothing but reading and research and hitting mental walls and dabbling in trying to learn how to cook. Yeah—learning how to cook. She'd been struck by the thought late one night and been unable to shake the urge ever since. Poor Bobby. Maybe that's why he left and went with Rufus? So he didn't have to be a guinea pig for tasting all the things she had made: undercooked spaghetti and burned fried eggs and runny macaroni and cheese. But hey, it was all technically edible...

Ever since Cas left last, she'd decided not to waste this time skulking around missing him. Of course she missed him, duh, but when she realized she could work on acquiring the skills that had always eluded her, she decided to just start.

She hadn't seen Castiel since the night he'd left the note. Whenever she got anxious or worried about him, she thought of what he'd written in Enochian for her to decipher. Figuring it out had taken a couple days. She'd spent a couple late nights last week with books she painstakingly special-ordered over the internet and had overnighted to the house. Some scholars had somehow pieced together some Enochian alphabets and symbology over the years, mostly from bible times, and with those, she'd been able to translate his message.

I will think of you ceaselessly until the hours return me to you once more.

When she first read it, tears had come to her eyes as she imagined his voice in her mind saying that to her. It was like a line out the world's most romantic damn poem or something and it was from him to her. From her research into the language she learned that the flowery and formal phrasing he used was partly because Enochian existed as a more formal and simplified dialect. Either way, the words he'd left for her written in his mother tongue, disguised and secret and meant just for her seemed so meaningful and beautiful and she thought of them many times over: him, up there fighting a war and thinking of her.

She was struck by it all over and over again: his love for her and how real it was, how straight out of a dream or a fairytale. That was why he deserved better than pop tarts and hot dogs and PB&J sandwiches. The runny mac and cheese definitely wouldn't do… sigh. Who know making food was such a pain in the ass? And could making good chicken alfredo ever really compete with "I will think of you ceaselessly until the hours return me to you once more"? Alex worried. What if she could never love or give him enough? He deserved so much more than she felt capable of giving sometimes. And what if he stayed an angel and didn't ever even need food? A thought she was of two minds about.

Alex was checking the kitchen window salt lines when one of the phones rang. She realized it was Bobby's house phone and frowned, shaken out of her thoughts of Castiel. Who would that be? Bobby or Dean would have called her cell phone. She went to the kitchen table where the phone sat and scooped it up, answering in a neutral voice. "Yeah."

"Hello?!" came an almost shout at the other end. It sounded like a young male. "Is this Alex? We need immediate assistance!"

Caught off guard by the panicked person on the other end whose voice she didn't recognize, Alex frowned slowly, frozen. "…Who is this?"

"Harry!"

Her frown deepened, because that brought no one to mind. "Harry who?"

"Harry Spangler!" At her unsure silence, the Harry guy continued to try and jog her mind. He spoke quickly, rapid fire, alarm filling his voice. "You know, Ghostfacers? Couple years back, the Morton House haunting?"

"Oh. Oh… Harry." Slight dismay rested in the way she said his name because she did remember and it all came back very quickly: that group of certifiable college-age idiots with video cameras and the audacity to call themselves ghost hunters… she and her brothers had run into them a couple times and both times parted on mostly negative terms. The Ghostfacers were, in short, a giant pain in the butt. Suddenly more than a little averse to knowing who was on the other end, Alex was skeptical. "Wait. How…d you get this number?"

"Look, I don't have time for that right now!" Harry retorted, shouting into the phone full force. "We need you and your brothers' help!"

"Calm down, Harry!" Alex said loudly, holding the phone away from her ear. "You sound like you're about to burst a blood vessel. Now what's going on?"

"Alex, yeah, Ed here," came a new voice. Alex remembered this guy—glasses, light hair, beard, super dorky. He too sounded pretty upset but unlike Harry, he was a little calmer. He started to ramble. "Okay, look. We're out here for a super cool paranormal gig in California, once-in-a-lifetime deal, right? It's this super haunted house, lots of weird legends about it and a few disappearances throughout the years, you know, your standard Ghostfacer appeal. Okay well the place usually isn't fully open to the public but some goofy convention's being held here so we pretended to be fans of whatever it is to get into the house and get some sick footage, right? But last night we got separated in the house and my sister Maggie's still in there and we can't find her anywhere and the staff says we're nuts and the EMF's off the charts and—"

"How long ago, Ed?" Alex interrupted. "How long ago'd she disappear?"

"Uh… well, we were lost in there until like ten minutes ago, so… nine hours?"

"You were lost in a house for nine hours?" Alex asked, not bothering to hide her tone (which suggested they were either crazy or morons).

"Yes!" Harry said, his deafening voice suddenly super close to the speaker again and passionate with alarm. "The house is friggin' huge, okay? It has like a hundred rooms in it for Christsakes and it's haunted as crap! We were there all night getting footage and me and Ed and Spruce barely got out—this is bad, Alex, really really bad!"

Ed spoke again and Alex realized they must have her on speakerphone. "Look, we couldn't think of who else to call and Dean gave us this number whenever we first met, remember? Back when we were just filming our demo?"

Alex's eyebrows rose sky high. "Dean volunteered this number to you?" What had he been smoking?

"It doesn't matter, now can you help us or not?" Ed asked impatiently and he almost sounded like he was holding a grudge. Then, suspicion confirmed: "Listen, after you and your dick brothers ruined all of our equipment and the footage of the Morton House, you owe us one."

Alex was both amused and affronted. "Oh, I owe you?"

"Come on, Alex! Ple-aaaase!" Harry's voice asked. "We're in way over our heads. Just bring those bodybuilder brothers of yours and help us—come on, come on, pleaaaase. We'll never bother you again. I swear it on Corbett's sweet, sweet memory."

Alex closed her eyes and let out a loud and gusty sigh of reluctance, then decided not to tell them that it was either her or nothing. There was really no reason to say no to the job unless she wanted to flat-out be a bitch. She knew how to forward landlines to a cellphone and didn't need to stay here to answer the lines. Plus, a hunt would be a nice change of pace. But still… with the Ghostfacers? Ugh. "I'll catch the first flight I can," she said heavily, already halfway regretting her decision. "What's the name of the house?"

"The Winchester Mystery House," they said at the same time.

Alex's eyes snapped open in surprise. "The what?"

---

On the flight over, Alex pored over what she'd hurriedly printed off at Bobby's from the tourism website about the Winchester Mystery House, which she'd never heard of before. Grainy black and white photos showed a sprawling and bizarre Victorian-style mansion that was unlike any other house Alex had ever seen before. It almost looked like ten large houses had been pushed up against each other tightly. What she read was deeply fascinating.

The Winchester Mystery house has its roots in deep personal tragedy. Sarah Winchester was the wealthy widow of William Wirt Winchester, the munitions baron who produced the Winchester repeating rifle—also known as the gun that won the West. After the deaths of both her husband and child, Sarah fell into a deep depression and consulted the help of a medium who explained that her misfortune was the result of the countless lives lost to the Winchester rifle—Sarah would bear the wrath of those spirits unless she took precautions. The remedy? Sarah was to make her surroundings attractive to kindly spirits who would in turn keep the evil spirits at bay. She was to build a house on which work would never cease. As long as she maintained continuous construction, she was told she would live forever. In 1884, Sarah moved to California and purchased an eight bedroom farmhouse and began the work that would never stop until the day she died.

Twenty-two carpenters were hired and worked on the house day and night—Sarah refused to let the work cease even for a day lest the spirits be unhappy. For almost forty years the construction continued without stopping. Sarah believed that if the house was never finished, no ghost could settle into it and she would be safe from harm. However, since the house was remodeled and added on to so many times, the result is eerie. Corridors snake through a maze of shadowy rooms, stairways rise only to end abruptly at ceilings. Doors open into walls, windows are set in solid walls where no sunlight will ever pass through. The mansion may be huge but there are only two mirrors in the whole place. This is because Sarah believed that ghosts were afraid of their own reflection. To further confuse vengeful spirits, Sarah picked a different bedroom to sleep in every night—it was easy to do, as the house has approximately a hundred and sixty rooms!

Strange tales surround the house. Stories of hauntings and stories of witchcraft and séances, stories about how Sarah insisted on privacy, planting a hedge of cypress around the land so that no one could see her estate. She was never to be looked upon without the veil she wore to obscure her face which further fueled rumors—some people said she wasn't a human or that she was a witch. Some said she would meet the ghost of her husband every midnight when the bell tower struck twelve. Sarah took many unanswered questions to her grave, and many believe her husband's spirit haunted her mind and drove her to insanity as she built the house.

Many mysteries still surround this house and lore abounds. Was it madness that drove Sarah Winchester to build obsessively until the day she died? Was it something supernatural? Come see the mystery and beauty for yourself!

Alex contemplated what she'd just read. Super interesting. It was off of a tourism website so she wasn't sure how reliable the information was. They might have been playing up or down the ghost stuff. A couple other printouts she had from other websites claimed that as many as twelve people's disappearances in the last twenty years could be attributed to the Winchester Mystery House. Why had she never heard of this place before? Especially because of the name? She'd often wondered if they were related to the Winchester gun people but never bothered to research it much, especially since their extended family was zilch and she had no real way of doing family history stuff. Dad, Dean, Sam were it.

It wasn't worth worrying over or wondering too much and Alex let it go, looking out of the airplane window and down at the tiny world below. Unlike Dean, flying didn't phase her much. It was kinda cool, honestly, to be so high up like a bird and get to see the earth from such great distance. They were passing over a patchwork landscape currently—a series of fields she realized as she looked closer. Wow. The little slivering straight lines dividing some of the fields were roads. They were up so high that people weren't visible at all and cars looked like little pinpricks or fleas. Was that how Cas saw the world, Alex wondered? So very small?

She leaned her head against the window and stared at the wing of the plane with a faraway expression. How crazy that he'd looked at this vast world and seen her, a little pinprick among pinpricks.

---

Nine Hours Later
San Jose, California
6:36pm

Even though she was a little tired from the flights and layovers, Alex got out of the taxi with relatively good energy—maybe because Fox On The Run by Sweet had been on the taxicab radio and that song had always put her in a good mood. She shut the taxi door behind herself after paying and turned around, slinging her heavy backpack up over a shoulder. She squinted and put a hand up to shade her eyes from waning early evening sun.

Huge signs proclaimed WINCHESTER MYSTERY HOUSE and smaller signs said things about tickets, admission, a gift shop, arrows pointed this way for official parking. Winchester rifle imagery decorated several signs. But Alex was staring through the wrought iron gates at the house itself. Wow. It gave off a super creepy vibe without explanation. It was colorful and pretty and well-kept, not like most haunted houses (dark, decrepit, falling apart). Verdant gardens with pathways curved around the front lawn and stone fountains with playful statues dotted the well-manicured area. The front door was ornate and beautiful, set on a grand columned porch. The house spoke of turn-of-the-century opulence. Alex could see a bell tower high above the bright red roofs of the massive house (she couldn't even see where the house ended). The bell tower seemed ominous somehow and Alex contemplated it with a dark, curious gaze. The place looked harmless enough, but the feeling she got from looking at it had the hairs on the back of her neck raised. After so long doing this—chasing ghosts and confronting the paranormal—she trusted her instincts. Something was going on here. She re-slung her backpack onto her shoulders and looked at the signs for guidance… then noticed a small piece of printer paper that was taped to one of the official signs.

SuperNatural ConVention This Way! It proclaimed in swirly, cutesy, handwritten letters. There were hearts dotted around the girly font. Hearts.

Gaping, Alex pulled the piece of paper off of where it had been taped and stared. No… friggin'… way. She remembered the books Chuck had written and felt her stomach turning over with nerves. This couldn't be the same thing, right? One way to find out. Alex followed the signs that pointed toward "The Winchester Ballroom" (available for rentals and events!). The huge mansion loomed on one side of her and a series of much more newly constructed buildings was on the other side. She found the Winchester Ballroom next to the gift shop and saw yet another handmade sign taped to the glass door.

The Winchester Room Hosts SuperNatural: The ConVention! All weekend long!

Why were there explanation points after everything? Alex pushed the door open slowly and cautiously entered the ballroom, gawking around suspiciously as she traversed the small foyer. There were Carver Edlund books stacked up on a table with prices displayed plus posters of the book covers splattering the foyer walls. Beyond the small entrance area was the ballroom—which was basically just a big room with strangely patterned carpet and a fancy but low ceiling. The large space was filled with a series of tables and booths and at the end of the room a presentation area was set up with rows of chairs for an audience to sit in. There were a surprising amount of people present and they were all dressed kinda… whoa. Flannel and cargo jackets abounded, like to a freakish degree. Just then, a super short guy walked by wearing a leather jacket sort of like Dad's and Alex stared openly. Son of a bitch. She was further confounded when she saw a guy dressed just like Cas walk by. Only he was fat and short with glasses and acne and was like eighteen.

…Was Chuck behind this? Alex scoured the sea of people for him, in a daze. She saw more posters of the books on the walls and at the booths—posters where Sam looked like Fabio and Dean looked like a G.I. Joe reject and Alex looked like some sort of temptress character. She wandered aimlessly, moving slow as molasses, every new thing her eyes took in confounding her. A guy dressed all in black smiled at her as she walked by. "Allo, puppet," said the guy in an extremely poor rendition of Crowley's London accent. It didn't help that his voice was high and nasal either. "Fancy a cuppa tea?" Alex gaped back at him as she walked, not looking where she was going.

This was nuts, people actually still read these books and dressed up like the "characters"? Alex walked into someone and came up short.

The small woman she'd bumped to was already apologizing absently. "Oh, sorry, I—" she stopped mid-sentence, her eyes widening in recognition. A look of delight overcame her face. "…Alex?!" she asked, then grinned, clapping her hands together. "Oh wow! Yay!" She looked behind and around Alex expectantly, then back at her in slight confusion. "Where's Sam?"

Momentarily unsure, Alex tried to place this person. Short, perky looking, blondish… eyes that seemed a little crazy… oh. Oh! Alex's mouth dropped open, remembering way back perhaps two years ago when this chick had showed up to deliver a message from Chuck. "Wait… Becky?" Alex asked, her eyebrows shooting high. Even as she asked, she noticed that the woman's name tag read Becky Winchester in girlish handwriting (and hearts were dotted around it too).

"Yup, that's me!" Becky said, grinning with nervous energy and looking around them as if she expected to see something in particular. "So… where are your brothers?" She was irritatingly hopeful.

Distracted by the room and the shock of what the focus of the convention was, Alex shook her head, staring as a guy with bright yellow contacts in his eyes walked by. "N…not here. What is this?"

Becky all but giggled for joy, clasping her hands as she looked around the room with bright and eager eyes. "Oh, just a little 'con' I put together for Supernatural!" She gave Alex a little side smile then shrugged her shoulders up as she grinned ear to ear dreamily. "My favorite thing." She sighed happily and looked at the room along with Alex. "I put my life savings into this and it's everything I ever dreamed."

Alex's eyes slid sidelong to Becky. Life savings, huh? "Way to dream big, Becky," she commented sort of glibly, and the sarcasm was lost on Becky.

"Yeah," she agreed, that dreamy look still on her face. "Too bad Chuck couldn't come." Becky leaned a little closer conspiratorially. "He's dropped off the map, awkward." She looked at Alex with poorly disguised eagerness. "Can you call Sam? Is he close? I'd… just really love to see him, say hi, catch up a little…?" Alex remembered Becky being into Sam before, too, and that's when she noticed a little button pinned on Becky's belt loop that said I'm a Sam girl over a giant heart.

"He's halfway across the country Becky," Alex said bluntly, then threw in for good measure: "And not interested."

Becky's face registered wide-eyed shock at Alex's brusque reply then in rapid succession a petulant scowl. Alex wasn't paying attention though—she was looking around the room again and having a hard time believing this. "You picked this place as the venue because of the name?" She looked at Becky once more. "Winchester Mystery House?"

Becky's short-lived grudge seemed to be forgotten for the moment and she smiled with sparkle, appearing to be self-pleased. "Of course! I know the last name was never in the books but I couldn't resist. It's too perfect, right?" She was giddy and Alex wasn't sure how to take it. "Plus all the haunting legends and paranormal stuff… so cool." Becky smiled blissfully, off in her own mind.

Alex had just noticed a circle of mostly females of all ages and builds who were all dressed eerily similarly to one another: in plaid, jeans, and work boots. Alex squinted. Wait a minute. Her mouth dropped open slightly. Were they supposed to be... her?

"Cosplayers," Becky said proudly, noticing Alex's look of bewilderment.

"Whaty-whats?" Alex asked, face wrinkling in confusion.

Becky gave her an mildly impatient shrug. "You know. They're fans, dressed up as characters they like…?"

"So… those people are dressed up as me?" Alex asked, because that just couldn't be the case. Did that mean people liked her? She looked down at herself and realized she was wearing pretty much exactly what the other girls were wearing—jeans, some work boots, a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up three-quarters of the way. Close to speechless, Alex tried to find words. "That's… why would they dress up as me?"

Becky shrugged, seeming disinterested and a touch annoyed. "Well you are one of the only women leads in the series."

Alex noticed another Castiel cosplayer at that moment—tall and skinny with a huge adam's apple and sleepy features. He was crossing the room and waving at a Dean. Alex smiled to herself. Funny how the sight of a beige trench coat alone made her think of home and comfort. "There's a Cas…" she observed out loud, then stopped short when the Cas and Dean embraced each other pretty intensely. "…Kissing a Dean. Wow."

Becky was smiling, hands clasped and settled underneath her chin in adoration. "Destiel," she said fondly.

"…Who's that?" Alex asked, more confused by the second. She didn't remember ever meeting or hearing of anyone named Destiel. "Castiel's brother?"

Becky looked at Alex with an expression that suggested Alex needed to get a life. "No, silly goose… it's the ship name. My O-T-P."

Each new term was making Alex's head spin. "Your what now?"

Becky fixed her with a lecturing look. "You have a lot to learn, sweetie." She gave Alex a thin, patronizing smile. She was clearly over the exchange. "Why don't you look around, I have to get ready for the Wincest panel."

Alex remembered what that was and her mouth dropped open as Becky sashayed away toward the stage area. That's when Alex noticed the little sign on a metal stand: an obviously fan-created drawing of what Alex guessed were Sam and Dean: they were in a passionate embrace and about to kiss, their hands on each other, taking each other's shirts off. The art was displayed on the metal stand and the word WinCest was drawn in delicate script across the bottom of the image. The funniest reaction came over Alex: total amusement. Feeling trollish and almost giddy at the gross hilarity of it, Alex pulled out her phone and took a picture, almost dying of restrained laughter that made her nose snort.

She texted the picture to Dean with the following attached words: Wow you and Sam put new meaning to the term brotherly love LOL! She hit send, trying not to dissolve into giggles at the look she imagined on his face when he saw it. And that's when she noticed a much smaller fan art image of a tall huge man embracing a smaller woman passionately from behind as she leaned into him with a look of wanton desire on her face. Alex's smile dropped into a scandalized frown. Twincest Lovers Unite 7pm it said underneath. Indignant, Alex snatched the printout off the stand without a second thought. Even as the revolted shock hit her as she tried to wrap her mind around the visual in front of her face, she saw the fanart on the next over metal stand: Staring into each other's eyes with vast amounts of what was supposed to be sexual tension and angst, a brunette man and woman whose identities were made clear by the accompanying text: DeanLex Shippers Panel 9pm hosted by Kayla! With even more power than she'd put into the first grab, Alex snatched that up too, mouth open in an offended expression. After studying the posters for a couple seconds trying to find the joke or disclaimer, she gave up. Huffing with extreme displeasure, Alex crumpled both fanarts, stalked over to a nearby trashcan, and tossed them in with gusto. It was only funny when it didn't involve her, dammit.

Now where the hell were Ed and Harry so she could get out of this place?! She edged around the room slowly, feeling like she was in the twilight zone. Every little group of people she passed by was talking about things that were familiar to her—she kept catching words like rock salt, demons, possession, angels, Lucifer, Sam, Dean, Alex, Bobby, Cas, Impala, Stanford, Crowley, sigil, demon blade.

This—was—weird.

"Hey," said someone nearby. "Awesome Alex."

Alex turned to see a girl who was about half a foot shorter than she was. This girl was dressed similarly to Alex and even wore a silver whistle on a chain around her neck. Alex gaped. "Shoes are a little not-her though," the girl said, oblivious to Alex's wide-eyed expression.

Alex looked down at her shoes, mystified. "You… don't think Alex'd wear these?" she asked, not sure whether to be perplexed or amused as hell at what was happening.

"Well, she always wears these," the girl said, pointing at her own feet. Some rugged all-terrain hunting/hiking boots stared back up at Alex, who did indeed own a pair a lot like that. She'd just taken to these camel-colored Timberland boots more recently. The other girl smiled obligingly, sympathetically. "First time cosplaying?"

Alex looked up from underneath her eyelashes, not sure how to answer that. "Uh, yeah, something like that."

The cosplayer, who had the outfit right but that was about it, smiled in a friendly way. Braces showed. "New fan, huh? Come on over and meet the Alexes." She started off toward the little cluster of plaid-shirted girls. "I'm Becca by the way."

"Al…" Alex started to introduce herself without a second thought then faltered. "…ice. Alice."

Becca didn't notice the gaffe. "Nice to meet ya Alice. I've been cosplaying as Alex for years now," she said breezily, cutting through the sea of Sams, Deans, and Megs. "Mostly at home and on the internet, but still. Man, I wish they'd make more books. I was dying to see where her story went."

Alex didn't even know where Chuck had stopped writing. "Where'd the books leave off?" she asked, trying to sound casual. She got a shocked you're-a-crap-fan look from the Alex cosplayer. "I haven't finished them yet," Alex added quickly along with a dumb smile.

Appeased but also a little reluctant, the cosplayer paused. "You don't care about getting spoiled?"

Alex wasn't sure what the right answer was. She went with: "…No?"

Apparently that was the right answer. "Okay so they weren't even published in print, just on the internet, but trust me, it's Edlund and it's canon. Total cliff hanger with like all the family and Cas going up against Lucifer and Michael. Everyone but Dean died but I mean, there's no way that's the real, final ending. I don't accept it. I got an AU fanfic of my own about what might have happened, if you wanna check it out. It's called Carry On My Wayward Children. Twist on the Kansas song. Cool right?"

"Yeah… so cool," Alex replied awkwardly. In her mind, she kept thinking this can't be real life.

"Heads up, Alexes!" Becca announced as they reached the cluster of Alex cosplayers. "I found another one of us." How strange—there were six people there seated in a circle holding punch glasses and lounging casually, all wearing similar outfits: boots, jeans, band t-shirts or tank tops with flannel shirts thrown over them. There were multiple ages and ethnicities represented, from a middle aged Asian woman to a college age Black woman with locs, and there was even a male Alex. One girl had bright blue hair, there was a curvy Alex with thick-rimmed glasses and ear gauges. Male Alex had hair that was swept down over one eye in a sort of emo or indie style and he was very thin and bitchy looking. She noticed how all the cosplayers wore silver rings on their index fingers like she used to and how they all had silver whistles on chains hanging over their shirts. Wow. She wasn't sure if this were humbling or creepy. All of the Alexes looked over the real Alex and a couple of them greeted her.

"'Sup Alex!" said one Alex, flashing a grin.

"Not bad," commented guy Alex, looking her outfit up and down. His eyes flickered to her feet and he tapped his chin in thought. "Interesting shoe choice."

"Yeah, uh, hi," Alex said slowly, not sure what she was getting in to. Becca motioned for her to sit down and Alex complied slowly, looking around nervously. This was the weirdest.

"So anyway, like I was saying," boy Alex said. "I feel like that meta really applies to like child Alex, you know, super vulnerable scared-of-the-world Alex, not modern day strong and empowered Alex."

"I disagree, Eddie," the Asian Alex said.

He rolled his eyes—he seemed really smug. "How so, Jing?"

Their continuing argument about Alex's "character development and growth" baffled Alex and intrigued her. Strangers, picking her life and mind apart for what, for fun? She was distracted from the discussion when her phone buzzed in her pocket. Alex pulled it out and saw she had a new series of texts from Dean. His typically disjointed and hard to read messages made her smile a little to herself.

Holy shit that supposed 2 b me n sam? GROSS Destroy it

wrking job call l8r

also where r u?

How many times had she asked him to please type words out fully? Would it really kill him to try? If he had enough time to put a million question marks he could make time to write words out. Loser. She shook her head fondly, missing and loving her brother. Both of them, really. But especially Dean, who was still himself. She typed out a quick reply. Long story! Tell you later. Be careful!

Eddie and Jing were passionately discussing "Alex's relationship differences to either brother" as a couple other Alexes put in a comment here and there. Alex stared around without bothering to hide her gawking expression. If only they knew how different that was now, what with Sam soulless and all. Alex's phone was buzzing again—what now? A call being forwarded from one of Bobby's home phones.

Alex turned in her chair to face away as much as possible from the group of Alexes. "Willis," she answered in a clear, firm voice, trying not to be so loud as to interrupt the group discussion.

On the other end came the assertive tone of a man who sounded large-and-in-charge. "Yeah, this is Deputy Remkus with the Idaho Police Department. I got some kid here, name'a Special Agent Garth Brooks wanting to look at my crime scene. He one of yours?"

Alex's face did a double-take. Garth Brooks? Was that by chance Jenga-expert R&B loving Garth and a weak cover name? No way of knowing. She answered with the standard clipped, bored, and impatient tones that might belong to an FBI higher-up. "One of my finest agents, Deputy," she said with measured great apathy and slight annoyance. "Anything else I can do for you?"

There was clear confusion in the police officer's voice. "No, that's fine. Uh… thanks. Have a nice day."

Alex hung up, shaking her head. Had to have been Garth. Picking a stupid cover name like that. Really? The famous country singer? As she turned back around, phone still in hand, she realized the Alexes had stopped talking and were looking at her.

"Nice touch, 'Alex'," said the blue-haired Alex with a grin.

Put on the spot, Alex tried not to fidget. "What was?" she asked, mystified and not liking everyone's eyes on her.

"Pulling a Bobby," replied blue hair. "I could totes see Alex being a Bobby someday."

"What, you mean crotchety and alone for the rest of her life surrounded by books?" Becca asked with a snort.

"I think she'd like that!" Another Alex said. "I mean, girlfriend loves to read, and Sam and Dean won't always be around, so…?"

"No—oh no, no no. I'm gonna have to correct you right there," said another Alex, holding up a finger. "Alex ain't gonna be alone, we've been over this, okay? We all know she had a not-so-secret admirer who was gonna romance the hell outta her if the books didn't cut off where they did. Happily ever after was always endgame for those two."

"Not this again, Essence," Eddie groaned dramatically. "Do we have to do ship wars every day?"

"It's not up for debate—Cas is all about the Alex," Essence said with a confident smirk and an I wash my hands of it gesture.

Alex sat there stock still as people argued about her private life willy nilly. A funny look was frozen on her face. Becca handed Alex a cup of punch from a bowl on the table they were gathered nearby. "Uh, thanks," Alex managed, finding this scene weirder and more surreal every second.

"There is no canon proof for Calex," the curvy Alex was arguing. "It's all conjecture."

"Are you kidding me right now, Laurie?" Jing cut in, and passion made her nostrils flare. "Castiel gave her her voice back, has always gone against the rules for her, has always, always clearly had a closer connection to her. And hell-oooo? The crazy sex they kept having?!"

Alex almost choked on the punch she'd been sipping.

"Okay, one?" Laurie seemed indignant. "All that sex crap happened in the unauthorized internet stuff. We don't know if that's for sure Edlund—it might be fic, we don't know! If it wasn't published and authorized, it's not canon, and none of Edlund's authorized stuff had any real Cas and Alex proof at all. Anyway, even if the internet books are real, Cas could just be confused by his human hormones. He's just her guardian, guys, I promise you it's platonic. Cas has feelings for Dean."

Alex sputtered in the punch she'd been trying to sip again. "Wait, what?" she asked.

"Yes, thank you!" Essence said, gesturing at Alex as if her point were proven.

"Listen to me, the guy pulled Dean out of Hell," Laurie argued. "They're soul mates, not Calex."

"Don't give us that!" Jing exclaimed with a fire that surprised Alex. These people were really into the books. "Cas and Alex got married before the apocalypse for fuck's sake!"

Holy shit… they KNEW? Alex set her punch down after nearly choking on it again. Chuck promised not to tell! "That's not in the books, stop trying to sell your crackpot theories as canon!" Laurie argued vehemently, expression ugly.

Alex hung on every word, trying to figure out how much of her life, exactly, was out there for people to read about in detail.

"Okay so then why'd Edlund skip over saying what they did the rest of that entire day they had on their own? Huh?" Jing asked, her tone filled with a lecturing quality.

Essence quickly added: "And why'd Alex's ring disappear?"

Clearly feeling ganged up on, Laurie made a face and rolled her eyes. "Please, Cas would never ever get married, that's ridiculous."

"Well he'd marry her!" Jing argued explosively.

"Alex wouldn't marry either, not Cas, not anyone, you kidding me?" Eddie asked, suddenly putting himself into the argument and speaking with wan, bitter voice. "So out of character oh my godddd. Why does Alex have to be the romantic interest of every single male in the series anyway, huh? Why can't she just be the strong single female character? Everyone ships her with Cas, Crowley, Dean, Sam, Bobby, Ruby, Meg, Azazel, Jo… I'm tired of it! I ship Alex with Alex. Girlfriend doesn't need no one but herself running her life."

"Do you even read the books?" Essence asked, turning on Eddie with a pissed expression. "She's the most romance-hungry character I've ever read before!"

"You're projecting again," Eddie said with an airy, dramatic scoff.

"Whatever, Eddie," Essence said, flipping her hair and rolling her eyes. She fixed Alex with a pointed look. "What do you think about the marriage conspiracy theory?" Alex frowned, caught off guard, pointed at herself questioning. "Yeah, you," Essence said, and it almost seemed like a threat: support my viewpoint or die.

"Well..." Alex said, fidgeting under the stares, then figuring why the hell not. "I think she might… especially if he wouldn't stop asking."

There were scoffs and swoons alike at her words. "Yeah, like that'd ever happen," Laurie said scornfully. "Anyway who'd marry them, you guys thought about that?"

"Crowley!" Jing said, a huge grin cracking her face.

"Crowley?" a shy-seeming Alex who hadn't spoken yet asked.

"Yeah, why not?" Jing asked optimistically.

The quiet, pale Alex seemed timid. "…Because they both hate him?" she suggested.

Jing and Essence, apparently in league, huffed and rolled their eyes, getting ready to chew out the poor, shy cosplayer. "Guys," real Alex interjected, smiling and grimacing both out of disbelief. These total strangers were debating her personal life and it was extremely disconcerting. Plus, they didn't even know they were arguing about real people. That was the weird part. "Aren't these fictional characters you're talking about? Maybe you should just calm down a minute."

"Oh don't tell me to calm down," Essence said as she sat up straighter. "They're real to me. They're my life."

Jing looked let down and earnestly confused. "Don't tell me you don't read those books and don't see how perfect Cas and Alex are for each other," she said. "I mean, it's like the best O-T-P of all time."

There was that weird term again. Alex didn't ask what it meant, just shrugged and looked down, a soft smile playing on her lips. Some of these girls would probably flat-out faint if they knew the truth. And the other ones would riot. "I mean, yeah, I guess Cas and Alex together would be nice," she said, sort of enjoying her own little secret.

"Oh god, another dumbass Calex shipper, fuck my life," Laurie muttered, throwing her hands up in the air then letting them slap down onto her legs.

Alex looked at her hesitantly. "Sorry. I just uh, could really see them being a thing I guess." The irony was how she knew, in the privacy of her own mind that she and Cas were, to put it in apparent fangirl terms, canon.

"No way. Alex is a lesbian—has to be, I mean come on," Eddie grumbled. Alex's eyebrows shot up high and she had to stifle a laugh and expression of utter amusement. "What's so funny?" Eddie asked sulkily.

"A lesbian?" Alex asked, trying to stow her growing entertained smile.

"Yeah, if anything, she's gay for Anna," Laurie agreed. "I read a couple Anlex fics recently… honestly, pretty good."

"Oooh, send me the links later?" Blue-haired Alex asked even as Alex sat there and thought nope. Her and Anna? People wrote this crap? She remembered the twincest poster and shuddered. There seemed to be no end to the people these fans were shoving her at.

As the Alexes carried on discussing things, their voices became droning indistinguishable sounds. Why were people fans of the book series at all? Living it was harsh, difficult, and devastating at times. It hadn't been easy or fun or glamorous. It had been hard as hell and still was. And why were these people dressed like her? Did they think she was some kind of heroine or something, someone they wanted to be? Alex didn't understand that because to herself, she was just a person who'd been born into a crazy life and been forced to become a fighter because of it.

There was a lull in the conversation and Alex was asking before she could stop herself: "So what, you guys think Alex is like... cool or something?"

She got some weird looks even as Jing answered with marked enthusiasm. "Uh, hell yeah I think she's cool! I mean, badass as hell, lives this crazy exciting life, kicks total ass, has a guardian angel, has smoking hot brothers..."

The last part especially made Alex squint. "I dunno about that," she said. Sam and Dean were not hot—huggable and handsome, sure, she guessed, but she didn't even have the capacity to think of them as being quote unquote hot. Ew. Also, she knew how loud they farted and how much they snored—how rank they got when sweaty, how nasty their feet were—and how they were total dorks and goofballs to embarrassing extents.

"I mean, you're dressed up as her too, right?" Becca asked, interrupting her thoughts. "So you must think she's pretty cool, right?"

Alex hid a smirk. "She's okay I guess."

"You're about as into this con as those lame Ghostfacer cosplayers," Eddie said, not bothering to hide his slight annoyance with her. But Alex made a mental bee-line for what he'd just said.

"Wait, who?" she asked intently. "Where?"

"Back in the corner like losers," Eddie said, gesturing lazily toward the very end of the room where a little round table had was nearly obscured completely by a room divider. Alex was already standing up and taking her backpack with, forgetting to excuse herself.

"Uh… bye?" Becca asked, but not loud enough to be heard.

"Worst Alex cosplayer I've ever seen," Eddie said, clasping his knee demurely and turning attention back to himself. "Totally wrong."

Alex was halfway to the table where three familiar-looking guys were bent over a video camcorder, watching the footage. They looked the same as Alex remembered. Harry: dark hair and a boyish face, Ed: glasses, beard, a little eccentric looking, Spruce: overweight and ruddy-cheeked.

Spruce was the one who noticed her first. "Alex!" he greeted, standing up and knocking his chair back. Alex looked at him reluctantly. No. Please don't be into me still. He'd followed her around with his camcorder like a puppy dog at the Morton House and tried so hard to flirt with her and impress her years ago (interestingly enough, the Ghostfacer thing had happened a few months after she'd gotten her voice back). Between Dean's rude encouragements to back off, Sam's somewhat amused eye rolls and comments about "never gonna happen, bro," and Alex shoving his camera out of her face multiple times, Spruce hadn't gotten the hint. She looked away from him pointedly.

"Thank God you came," Harry said, standing up. He had the look of someone severely sleep deprived and hopped up on caffeine.

Alex shrugged off her backpack and sat down opposite of Harry, nodding tersely. "No problem."

Ed's face wrinkled in uncertainty and suspicion when he saw that no one followed her. "Wait… where's the beefcakes?"

Alex looked at him with the mildest of annoyance. "It's just me this time, boys."

Spruce was lifting a camcorder and speaking into it as he gazed at the little screen on the back of it. "And here is Alex," he narrated, "one of the best ghostfacers of all time, here to save the da—"

Alex shoved her hand into the camera, pushing it back. "Get that outta my face, Spruce," she said threateningly then turned her attention back to the skeptical Ed.

Spruce was still filming, smiling and murmuring: "She remembers my name…" That earned him the briefest side eye.

"So you're gonna help—what, like last time?" Ed challenged. "Erasing our hard drives and footage?"

Alex raised her hands in mild self-defense. "Dean's idea, not mine," she said, then pulled a thoughtful face, reconsidering. "Okay, it was partly mine."

"You're just a hater," Ed said, crossing his arms and looking at her in superiority.

"Ed, come on, don't piss her off," Harry side out of the side of his mouth, trying to be discreet… but Alex could hear him loud and clear. "We need her help, remember?"

Ed and Harry glared daggers at each other and said nothing. Alex remembered that apparently Maggie (Ed's sister) was into Harry and there was some tension over that. In fact, maybe that's why the two of them were scowling at each other like that. Either way, Alex didn't feel like waiting for them to put their big boy pants on. She sighed in annoyance before addressing them impatiently. "Look, you wanna sit here and argue about stuff or go find your sister?"

"My adopted sister," Ed corrected automatically.

So? Why did that matter? "Still your sister," she said. Behind them, loud cheering sounded and Alex heard Becky's voice over the intercom say something cheerily about Wincest. Alex shook her head and put her face halfway into her hand. This day couldn't be real.

"Pretty weird con, right?" Spruce asked her, smiling nervously, hopefully. He was still pointing that damn camera at her and she gave him her best fuck off glower.

"Yeah," Harry said, answering like Spruce had asked him the question. "It was funny. Some people kept telling us our costumes were good," Harry said then chuckled as if he didn't understand and was brushing it off. "What costumes? Weirdos." Harry was wearing a home-made shirt that said Ghostfacers in crooked hand-painted letters.

Alex straightened slightly, realizing they might be more daft than she thought. "…Do you guys get what this con is about?" she asked carefully. Surely they weren't that dumb or blind.

"Some book about two brothers and their sister who like hunt paranormal stuff or something, I dunno," Harry said. "Seems lame."

Alex stared in disbelief.

"But the people here have heard of us before somehow, so I approve," Ed said, trying to sound wise and interesting.

Harry gave a thought huh sound as he looked at Alex. "I think you're dressed like one of the characters or something, see all the chicks over there in plaid?"

Alex felt her will to live in a world where such morons lived diminish. "Wow," she commented flatly. "Just the kinda crack observation I'd expect outta you guys."

"Thanks, Alex," Spruce said, beaming.

Harry kicked Spruce in the leg under the table. "She was insulting us, dummy," he said in a hard voice then fixed Alex with a studious look. "I just don't know why…"

Not caring either way, Alex tried to refocus them. "Look, what gear do you guys have? I couldn't bring everything I normally do 'cause of the flight. I've got salt, a couple blades, a lighter, EMF meter, a flashlight… and M&Ms."

All three guys looked at each other with deep frowns. "Do ghosts like M&Ms?" Ed asked in all seriousness.

"No. I do." She cracked a sarcastic grin, because otherwise, she'd have to facepalm to deal with this level of drivel. "Now. What do you guys have?"

They looked nervous. "We have video cameras?" Harry said uncertainly. "Oh, and iron crowbars." He grinned and pulled one out of a zip-up duffel. Alex looked at it, grabbed it from him, inspecting it and sniffing it.

She set it down hard. "These are steel.

The three of them looked at each other in mild embarrassment. "Ah," Harry said, then corrected himself. "Then we have video cameras."

"How are you three not dead by now?" Alex asked churlishly.

"Hey, we resent that!" Harry said indignantly.

"Shut up, Harry," Ed said, sighing tiredly. He handed Alex the camera that they'd been crowded around when she first arrived. "Look, here's the footage we got last night. See if you see anything."

Alex took the camera and Spruce hit the play button for her. Shaky footage showed dark corridors and Maggie leading the way with Harry and Ed sweeping hallways with flashlights. Spruce's voice was narrating and saying things about how cold it felt and how creepy it was. The video was dark, blurry, and hard to see what anything was. It shook suddenly and someone (Harry maybe) shouted "Whoa! Did you guys feel that?!"

The video ended abruptly there and Alex looked around questioningly. "I ran out of batteries right there," Spruce explained sheepishly.

Alex wanted to let her forehead fall to the table. They were the worst.

---

About one irritating hour later (they had to wait for a majority of the staff to go home to avoid being caught), the unlikely little group was somewhere deep within the confusing interior of the Winchester Mystery House. No lights were on within the house as touring hours were over and the house didn't have electricity wired into most of it. Alex had jimmied the lock of a side entrance to get them inside—apparently the way the Ghostfacer team had gotten in last night was going on a tour and then hiding in a room together and waiting until dark to do their sleuthing.

Alex had to admit she wasn't fully prepared for the inside of the house. It was like a labyrinth and a maze, like a puzzle that had been crammed together forcefully. It felt endless and disjointed, bizarre and foreboding. There were endless hallways and places where you could go three or four different ways, there were spiraling staircases (some which ended in ceilings), there were stained glass windows set into solid walls, there were dead ends and doors. Some hallways were tight and claustrophobic, some were wide and drafty. It was cold inside too. Colder than she thought it should be, quieter than what seemed normal. The place had a strange feeling to it overall, a feeling like the walls themselves were watching you.

Her handmade EMF meter, made out of a voice recorder, was going nuts, spiking like crazy. Creeping along next to her with his weird head-camera on, Harry was skittish as he swept the dark area ahead with the beam of the torch attached to his head-cam. "So that's when we found the grand ballroom last night and that's where we got separated from Maggie," he whispered—Alex had just asked for more details on what happened last night.

"Separated how?" she asked, letting her flashlight illuminate yet another spiral staircase they passed. It stretched upwards into darkness. They kept on going past it.

"She was setting up some stuff in there and me and Harry found like a secret doorway into another room and went to check it out," Ed explained. He was on her other side and seemed more grim and determined than Harry, who was jumpy. "But when we went into that room, the door slammed behind us and we couldn't find how to get back into where Maggie was."

"…So you couldn't figure out how to find your way back to a room one room over?" Alex asked in disbelief, but at this point she really wouldn't put that past them.

"Um, yes." Harry answered indignantly then paused. "I mean, uh, no." At Ed's chastising look, Harry defended himself. "I got confused!"

Ed rolled his eyes and refocused on Alex. "The house changes," he said. "Walls that weren't there a second ago are there, things you thought were there are suddenly not, stuff like that."

"Guys, people tour this house like every day of the year," Alex reminded. "Don't you think someone else would have noticed if that were really true?"

"I dunno how to explain it, okay?" Ed asked peevishly then glanced back over his shoulder. "You getting all this, Spruce?"

Behind them, filming silently, Spruce gave a thumbs up. "Yup."

They continued down another creepy hallway. Not all of the house was open to the public and Alex plus the Ghostfacers had strayed off the marked tour path and were, in a word… lost. Alex thought she had to be crazy or slipping, because she swore they were going in circles but that wasn't possible. They hadn't turned around once, they were heading straight forward mostly, deeper into the house, yet they'd passed the same weird stained glass window that said Peace Be three times… this was the third time she'd noticed it. Alex stopped at it and stared up at it then glanced at her watch which had a built in compass and didn't seem to be working. It said they were heading north in the house one second and then south the next. She hit it a couple times uselessly, apprehension filling her. This was definitely weird. Her stomach turned slightly and she wondered if that were possible for a house to be possessed and to change at a whim, trapping and separating people. Usually there had to be a huge driving force behind stuff like that, something more than a single spirit or a poltergeist. Maybe Sarah Winchester's ghost wasn't behind this. That had been Alex's going theory but now she wasn't so sure.

Ed and Harry had walked ahead but Spruce stopped when Alex did. "And here we see a weird, kinda ugly stained glass thingy," he narrated, letting the camera light sweep over the window Alex was looking at. He then pointed the camera at her, blinding her with the light. "So you doing anything after this, or…?" he asked, trying to flirt. The look Alex gave him could kill and she pushed the camera away roughly while wincing against the light then brushed past him. "Just asking," he said sheepishly.

That's when they both realized Harry and Ed were gone. "Harry?" Alex shined the flashlight down either end of the hall they'd been heading straight on. "Ed!" Beside her, Spruce looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"Where'd they go?" he asked, sidling up closer to her as if he wanted protection. Alex squinted into the darkness, then shut off her flashlight to see better. She saw nothing, heard nothing. No, wait—there was a soft sound. The shrill whisper of wind through cracks, but there was no wind to speak of. A shiver ran up her spine and she flicked her flashlight back on and turned to her left, where another hallway had stretched. She stood back in surprise when the blank face of a solid white wall glared down at her instead.

"…was that wall there before?" she asked with trepidation, voice lowering to a whisper as she questioned her sanity. "I swear there was another hallway there before...!"

"I can't remember," Spruce whispered, then suddenly jumped away in horror, his head swiveling around in terror. "Oh god what's that sound?!" he shrieked, holding his camera out like a weapon.

It was a steady bzzt bzzt bzzt that was currently giving the kid a heart attack. Alex pulled her cell out of her pocket with a wan flourish and gave him a tight little smile. "My phone."

Spruce froze. "Oh."

Alex shook her head and answered, seeing Dean's name displayed. She began to walk in the direction Harry and Ed had been headed. "Hey Dean, look now's—"

His shout was so loud it nearly broke her speaker. "Funkytown! Poughkeepsie!" he yelled breathlessly—the family safe words, code for something is hella wrong. Alex stopped dead in her steps, alarm shooting through her at the panic in his voice. "UFO, UFO, close encounter!"

"What? Dean?! Hello?" she heard rustling and swishing and him grunting and panting like he was running for his life. "What's going on?!"

"Aliens!" he shouted, breathy and sounding crazy with panic. "Look, if they take me you just need to—" he was cut off and his voice was suddenly far away like he'd dropped the phone. He gave some sort of animalistic bellow. "Come on, you bastards!" There was a loud screeching sound and then nothing and Alex stared into darkness in shock.

"Hello? Hello, Dean?" she asked, looking at her phone to see if they'd been disconnected. The call time counter was still running and she slammed the phone back to her face. "Dean! DEAN!" Nothing. Breathless and panicking, not sure what to do, Alex ended the call and dialed Sam with shaky hands.

It rang like seven times before he finally answered. "Yeah." Her twin's familiar voice was lazy and short.

"Sam!"

"Hey Alex," he replied evenly, sounding like nothing much concerned him in the world right now.

"Where's Dean?" she demanded.

"Uh, abducted by aliens or something, not totally sure yet," he said, sounding mildly distracted.

"What?!" she exclaimed, both a reaction to his demeanor and statement. "Aliens?" There wasn't such thing and if there were, no punkass green man was gonna take Dean.

"Yeah, just found his phone out here in a crop circle," Sam said with way too much calm and disinterest. "Super weird. I'm stumped."

"Stumped?" she repeated incredulously, fury making her shake. "Look, I don't care that you don't care—you find our brother right now, do you hear me?!"

"Loud and clear, we got a good connection."

His response had her seeing red. "Okay listen to you me you soulless jackass," she growled, "if something happened to Dean and you didn't have his back, I will feed you your own entrails!"

Oddly enough, he laughed shortly. "Doesn't sound pleasant. Or possible." There was the sound of shifting, like he was moving the phone around. "Oop—gotta go."

There was an abrupt click on the other end and Alex's eyes went wide. Oh I know he didn't just hang up on me. "Sam?" she asked. "Sam! Son of a bitch!" She looked down at the phone, which said Call Ended. She almost threw her phone at the nearest wall out of frustration and fear. Dean was in trouble and she was a thousand miles away, a caged animal—stuck in this crazy maze house with the three stooges. Okay, focus. Find Harry and Ed, find Maggie's little lost ass and then catch the soonest flight to Indiana and see what the fuck had happened to Dean.

"So," Spruce said awkwardly. He looked freaked out but had the camera pointed at her and the fucking video light was about to make her snap. "How are your brothers?"

Alex pointed the flash right right into his face. "How does it sound, Einstein?" she brushed past him with renewed (if very shaken up) purpose. "Let's get this over with." She shook her head and gritted her teeth, thinking about emotionless and cold Sam. "I am gonna kill him," she muttered.

Right behind her, Spruce tried to be smooth again. He was out of breath, chugging along to keep up to her. "I'll comfort you," he volunteered.

She stopped and held a finger up in his face. "Spruce, I swear," she snapped. For twenty minutes they wandered in the house searching for Harry and Ed and found nothing, but passed the Peace Be sign twice more. Alex smashed it with her flashlight the second time and shouted at Sarah to "quit being a bitch!" Really, she was getting nervous but tried not to show it. Any way they turned, they ended up in the same places.

Just when Alex was getting desperate, she paused and squinted down a staircase they passed. She saw a flicker of movement somewhere on the floor below and focused on it. "Hey—" she whispered and hit Spruce in his soft chest with a floppy hand. "Look." They crept down the stairs cautiously, trying to see what the movement was from. Once on the ground floor of that level they saw that down yet another hallway, lights were swiveling around all over the walls and floor. Harry and Ed's voices were audible.

She never thought she'd be glad to see them, but here she was. Alex led the way, jogging toward them, flashlight swinging. "Hey!"

Harry and Ed looked excited about something, not even concerned about the separation. "Check it out! We think we found the ballroom," Harry shined his flashlight down the hallway, indicating a fancy scalloped door frame. The doors were closed.

"We've been looking for you for like twenty minutes!" Spruce said, voice filled with anxiety.

"Ha ha very funny," Harry said, heading toward the doors after Ed.

Alex stared. Huh? Ed was hurrying toward the doors, shouting for his sister. "Maggie! Maaaags!" he yanked the doors open dramatically and Maggie made a little sound like eep as she whirled, brandishing a camcorder like a weapon.

"Oh my god you guys!" she said, relaxing as they all came into the dim ballroom. "I was about to start freaking out."

"What do you mean, about to?" Ed asked, mystified.

"It's been like thirty whole minutes since you guys left!" Maggie said, a little put off by the guy's behavior. She then saw Alex and recognition dawned. "Hey… where'd she come from?"

"You've been in here for more than half a day now," Alex said, to which clear surprise showed on Maggie's face.

"Whoa…" she said, then instead of freaking out she got stoked. "Super awesome!"

Alex looked around between the people she was with. "Not super awesome," she said, because if there were time discrepancies, that meant something major. She looked around the smallish ballroom cautiously. "Something's going on in this house."

"No offense, but that's what we've been trying to tell you," Spruce said. What a smart ass.

Alex paid him no mind, because she had spotted something interesting: a small gathering of objects: fat candles that were set up and lit on the floor, a gong, some salt, a dish of water. "...Were you guys about to do a séance?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Ed said like it was no big deal. "We do those now."

Alex didn't know how to react. "Again—how are any of you still alive?" she asked rudely, glaring around the ballroom cagily.

Séances were not kid stuff—there was a lot of danger if you didn't know what you were doing. Was it her imagination or was this room even colder than the rest of the house? The ballroom was empty and stark despite the finery it boasted. There was a fancy large old pipe organ against one wall, an expensive chandelier hanging from the ceiling, beautiful carving on the walls. Fancy patterned hardwood floors gleamed under their feet in the dim dancing light from candles. On either side of the organ there were more stained glass panels. Alex looked at them oddly as she drifted closer, studying the words etched into glass. One of the window panes said Wide Unclasp The Tables Of Their Thoughts and the second one said These Same Thoughts People This Little World. The words made no sense.

Stumped and feeling the hairs on the back of her neck raising, Alex took a tiny step backwards. Something about this room just wasn't right. "Okay, how about we get out of here, huh?" she asked softly, turned around—and found the doorway they'd just come from was a solid wall.

Everyone else noticed at the same time that she did. "Holy shit!" Spruce yelped even as Ed let loose a blood curdling scream and Harry gasped and Maggie swore.

"There was a door there!" Harry was flipping out hardcore. "A DOOR!"

"Well there's not anymore!" Alex thundered—she had short patience for when people flipped out under pressure. The sound of the bell tower striking midnight was loud and pervasive. It sounded like it was directly overhead and Alex frowned. Midnight? It was only like eight. She looked at her watch, The digital readout said E:L?7. Awesome. The house broke her watch. And around her, utter chaos continued.

Harry kept shouting about a door even as Maggie grabbed onto him and was crying about how she'd always loved him and they began to kiss passionately and awkwardly in between declarations of love—Spruce was running around the space in a tizzy and shaking every door that remained only to find them sealed and locked or false.

"We're gonna die in here!" Ed moaned. "Before we got a deal with a studio. Life is such a bitch!" He looked at his sister kissing Harry and seemed to reach his limit. "And will you FUCKING STOP KISSING MY SISTER!" He rushed Harry and grabbed him with a shout and the two of them began to fight senselessly. Maggie screaming to stop as they fell down and rolled around on the floor.

Spruce was banging on one of the doors and shouting the word "trapped, trapped!" over and over even as Ed tried to punch Harry and missed, cracked his fist against the wood floor instead. He howled loudly. Alex was about to lose her mind and she yanked Ed up off of Harry, wrestled him away. "Stop it and shut up, all of you shut up!" she bellowed, done with everyone's shit. They all fell into shameful silence. Alex wet her lips in aggravation. "Have any of you seen any apparitions while you've been in here?" she asked intensely, talking with her hands and using stiff angry gestures.

The Ghostfacer team looked at each other slowly.

"Uh… no."

"Not me."

"Nope."

"Negatory."

Alex took in a deep, steadying breath, wracking her brain for a theory—because once you had a theory and an idea of what you were up against you could use brainpower to get the upper hand. "So maybe the disappearances aren't because of a vengeful spirit in the form of a person," she said, thinking out loud. "Maybe it really is… the house itself."

Ed looked stunned. "How is that even possible?"

Alex shook her head. Spruce's video light was yet again blinding her. "Some inanimate objects become cursed and tied to people who were invested in them… is it so crazy to think a woman who built and rebuilt this place for almost forty years could be part of it somehow?" She looked at those strange glass panes again. "Huh. Maybe she's got it backwards. Thinks she's the person and all the people wandering her house are the evil spirits. She was pretty hellbent on keeping ghosts confused before, right?" She thought back on everything she'd read on the printouts. "And with groups of people, she's too scared to do much or interfere but when she can zero in on one or two people…" Alex was feeling like she was onto something. "She lures them deep into the house and keeps them trapped in parts of the house no one ever even sees… locks them away where they don't even realize how fast time's passing."

There was a heavy silence. What Alex didn't say was what everyone was thinking about: all those people who'd disappeared in this house over the years. Where were their bones? In rooms Sarah kept concealed?

Harry finally said: "This is some freaky ass shit."

"So what do we do?" Maggie asked nervously. "Salt and burn her bones?"

Alex shook her head. "I don't think that would work. If the house is literally haunted…" she trailed off and Ed got where she was going.

"We gotta torch the whole place," he breathed. "Wow."

Harry made a face. "What is it with you and your family and burning stuff down?"

Alex shrugged defensively. "Hey, don't question the tried and true."

The organ suddenly blared loudly, a shocking and off key sound that sent terror through the room's occupants. The Ghostbusters all screamed and shouted as the chandelier abruptly crashed to the floor—Alex narrowly avoiding being crushed by it.

"I don't think she likes that idea!" Harry said.

Spruce was beating on one of the small side-doors uselessly even as Alex shoved him sideways and like she'd done a hundred times, kicked the door in—the trick to it was giving enough force to the weakest part of the door, which was usually the latch or knob. The door gave way and they escaped the ballroom even as the walls began to fall inward to crush them to death. Alex caught sight of the séance candles spilling over and saw how flames caught a fallen wall. Her single thought was escape this hell house or burn alive.

They ran like cattle, blind and channeled down hallway after hallway even as the house seemed to come to life around them—floorboards moving up to trip them, windows shattering as they passed, walls buckling inwards to attempt to crush them, railing reaching out to snatch them.

They reached a grand open room where a beautiful glass ceiling stretched. The glass shattered violently and rained downward. Not able to see, holding arms folded over her head, Alex tripped and stumbled, had to pause to catch her footing. She almost fell backward completely as the floor cracked under her feet. She managed to jump back even as Ed caught a falling Maggie—and with frightening speed, where there had been solid floor there was now a huge yawning gap spanning the entire room, a perilous several story drop. On the side opposite of Alex, the Ghostfacers stood in breathless horror. It was too far to jump and Alex looked at the them, waved an urgent hand at them. "Jump out a window if you have to, just get out!" she commanded, and as the room shook even more, they were forced to separate.

Alex ran for her life in the opposite direction, not even sure where she was going, just trying to find a window that looked out to the outside world. All she found were hallways. She thought about dropping her heavy backpack to be able to move faster. Even as she thought that, she skidded around a corner and saw flames licking the walls. Shit. She about-faced and ran the other direction, freaking out, not thinking straight. There had to be a damn window somewhere now where was it? She turned another corner and came up to a solid wall, almost running full-speed into it. She whirled around and gasped as a piece of wood flew at her head. Ducking and stumble-running as the floor under her feet shivered malevolently, she banked a hard right when she saw a staircase leading downward. Not even bothering to run down the length of the spiral, she swung over the railing and narrowly made it to the floor below in an ungraceful lump. Beside her, the staircase collapsed toward her and not fast enough to avoid being hit, Alex was struck in the back of the head by flying debris. Oh no. She felt herself falling through the air downward as if in a dream as her vision went stretchy and gray. She saw how a grand wooden column began to fall and roll toward her. Huh. Delirious from head trauma, she went slack and passed out.

---

Alex awoke feeling panicked and unsure in a dark, warm place. Her eyes adjusted and she took in the interior of a huge, shadowy barn covered floor to ceiling in spray-painted traps, wards, and talismans from all over the world. She pushed herself up slowly from where she'd been laying and peered around in mild confusion as the panic faded. Was this… the place she's first seen Castiel? It was—she recognized her own handiwork painted across several walls and she smiled to herself, feeling suddenly reminiscent. She forgot where she'd been before being here. Probably in bed asleep, she thought vaguely. She stood up, dusted off her hands.

Unexpectedly, she heard his voice somewhere behind her sound in soft greeting. "Hello, Alex."

She turned quickly in happy surprise, then almost fell down in the awe of something like fear at what she saw. Castiel was standing in front of her… and she could see his wings. Clear as day and black as night, they spanned perhaps ten feet total—they were remarkable and so much larger than she thought possible, made of great gleaming black feathers that seemed to breathe and vibrate with absolute energy and life.

He saw how she looked at his wings with such astonished eyes and he turned to look behind himself, not understanding what she was looking at. "What is it?" he asked, concern tempering his voice. He looked back at her when he saw nothing behind him.

"W-wings," she stammered, still staring at them, drifting closer to him. "I see your wings." His eyebrows moved upwards in vast surprise. She looked at him questioningly, wondering how a dream could feel so vivid and real, so lifelike, so detailed. "I'm dreaming, right? Wow, looks so real though…" her hand was raising of its own accord, called to reach out and touch. Her fingers brushed against one of those magnificent electric velvet feathers and at the smoothness under her fingertips, her dreamy state suddenly broke and she yanked her hand back in shock. Oh my god this is real. "What's happening?" she asked, feeling clear and stunned all at once.

He seemed just as shocked as she was, mouth open slightly. "…How did you just do that?" he asked, looking at her hand and then where she'd touched him.

"I don't know!" she replied, a little freaked out, her astonished eyes traveling up the curve of one of the wings.

Castiel looked very confused and a bit worried as well, like he was grasping for an explanation. "I went to the attic a minute ago to find you and you weren't there so I sought you on the dream-plane."

"So I am dreaming," she said softly, unable to look away from his the midnight black wingspan. He hadn't come to her in dreams for so long. Not since when they first met, actually.

Cas seemed uncertain about her statement about it being a dream. "I think yes," he said even as his face twisted in stern, apprehensive thought. "But why do you see my wings?" Realization dawned across his features. "Alex—I think you're unconscious," he said, and the beginnings of alarm colored his tone. "Why are you unconscious? Has someone hurt you?"

Alex looked around at the barn in discomfort, aware of how warm it was. Cas sounded far away and she pressed a hand against her burning cheek. "Is it hot in here to you?" she asked, then coughed weakly as fire filled her lungs for no conceivable reason. She fanned herself, confused and unable to think about anything but how hot it was. Her skin felt like it was burning. She noticed how the barn walls were catching fire and she thought to herself huh, oh, that's why it's hot.

Cas saw the suddenly burning walls too and grabbed her by either arm, fully panicked, demanding her attention. "You need to wake up," he said intensely, his voice deep with commanding and urging. She looked at him strangely, in a trance, just wanting to go back to sleep. "Wake up and tell me where you are," he said. Alex protested weakly, feeling so hot that she wanted to die.

Castiel shook her abruptly. "Alex, concentrate, please! Wake up!"

---

Wake up!

His voice echoed in her mind and Alex's entire world spun as pervasive heat assaulted her, as she came to. Acrid smoke stung and burned her throat and she let out a walloping cough as she opened her swimming eyes to a fiery world. The ceiling was fanned with flames and embers drifted down onto her. Panicking, Alex tried to sit up and realized her lower body was trapped by a fallen column. The dream flooded her mind and realizing she was totally stuck, panic set in more fully, she rasped out his name and no sooner had she said it than he was there, tossing the column off of her like it were a stick. He gathered her into his arms and held her tightly, standing up as he did so. Immediately, the heat felt less, in fact, she felt cool and soothed. She wondered if his wings were around her even then and deliriously imagined them wrapped around and over both of them like blankets. The smoke was choking her and she gagged, trying to see through it. She felt one of his hands tighten on her, pulling her face even further into the safety of his chest.

Outside of the Winchester Mystery House, the front doors flew open with a loud bang without being touched. Bystanders who had gathered outside at the fire and commotion all gaped as Cas carried Alex down the grand front steps of the house and away from the now-blazing structure.

Alex blinked through watering eyes, seeing that the sky was the softest dark orange (more evidence of time discrepancy—morning already?). A bunch of the people from the Supernatural convention were gathered in pajamas in the gardens, gawking. She saw still more trickling in from across the street where a motel was conveniently placed. The clear morning air made it easier to breathe and Alex shut her stinging eyes and just let Cas carry her as she tried to find an inhale that didn't taste and smell of heavy ash and smoke.

"Oh wow," Alex heard a female voice say nearby. "That is the best Cas I've ever seen. Hot damn."

Another voice gushed: "If they made Supernatural into a movie, he'd definitely have to play Cas—holy crap, he's so cuuuute!"

"Oh my god, this is giving me major Calex feels," someone else said and Alex heard the plastic fake sound of a cellphone camera picture being taken.

"Shut up Jing, those people almost just died!" said another voice.

Alex didn't catch any more of what was said—Cas gently set her down to sit on the wide stone edge of one of the fountains off from the crowd and he crouched in front of her, looking her over, a hand resting on her arm. "Are you all right?" he asked, looking her over thoroughly, his face overworked with what could best be described as staunch worry and fear because it had been so close.

Their eyes met at last. "I am now," she said, then looked toward the quickly-catching house, suddenly realizing that there was another terrible issue at hand. She bolted up to sit straighter. "Cas, you gotta make sure there's no one else in there!" she said with sudden urgency, terror striking her heart at the thought of anyone being trapped and burned alive in that place.

Cas nodded and stood, looking at the house with a fierce expression that seemed to say he wouldn't fail in doing what she asked. "I'll be right back."

He disappeared and a couple of the girls who'd been watching Alex—Essence and Laurie—clutched at each other, gasping when they saw him disappear out of thin air. Ah, great. Alex's phone was buzzing in her pocket and she pulled it out with a shaking hand. The screen was heat damaged and some of the plastic had gone misshapen… but she could still read the ID and a thrill of hope and anxiety alike raced through her as she answered. "Dean!?"

His familiar, grouchy voice washed relief over her. "Yeah, hey, so just thought you'd wanna know I am A-OK and back in the land of the living." The call connection was bad, probably because of the heat damage.

"But Sam said you got abducted—!" she said, a hand on her sooty head as she stared at the ground.

Dean gave a short, caustic laugh. "Ah, don't talk to me about Sam right now."

"What happened?" Alex asked, anxious to know details. "Aliens? Really?"

"I uh, really don't wanna talk about it just yet, okay?"

Worrying the bottom corner of her lip, Alex didn't press him. "Are you okay though?"

"Oh yeah, peachy," he said, brushing it off and forcing a chuckle. "Hey, what was that crazy picture about earlier? You trying to give me nightmares for the rest of my life or somethin'?"

Despite everything, a little grin made Alex's mouth crack up to the side. Firefighters were flooding the scene and loud sirens made it hard to hear. Alex shook her head, realizing that the funny stories from that day would have to wait. "I'll have to tell you later… in the middle of something." At his silence Alex hesitated. "Unless you need me?"

"Nah, it's okay," he said, sarcasm tinging his words. "I've got Sam." Alex got the feeling Sam was in the same room as Dean and Dean was saying that more to Sam than he was to her. Still…

"Dean. Say the word and I'm back in," she said seriously. Hoping that he would.

He gave a gusty sigh and she could just see him pinching the bridge of his nose wearily. "Sweetheart, I want you as far away from this Crowley bullshit as possible, all right?" He sounded pretty damn done with his day. He paused heavily. "You don't need to worry yourself over me."

Alex scoffed. "Well too bad," she retorted, half playful, half serious. "I'll worry about you as much as I want."

"Heh, that's actually kinda nice to hear someone say," Dean said. Again, she thought he was making a comment to Sam more than her. She heard the phone shift. "Hey, I'll talk to you later. Time for me to have a little talk with our little soulless friend here."

"All right," Alex said reluctantly. "Bye Dean."

"Bye Al. Be safe, will you?"

She smirked. "Nah."

"Ha ha," he commented, but she could hear the affection in his voice. "Bye."

She ended the call even as there was a sound of commotion—out of the front of the house came the very confused, sooty looking Ghostfacers. Castiel was behind them looking as stern and pinched as ever. Alex let out a breath of relief. Everything was all right. Dean safe and sound, Cas got everyone out. The house was burning out of control and with it, Sarah Winchester's ghostly spirit that was trapped in the very walls of the place. Even though firefighters were already on scene, Alex was pretty sure all they'd really be able to do was control the blaze, not extinguish it.

Speaking of, firefighters were beginning to push the little crowd back and Alex stood up, wincing a little—a muscle in her hip hurt pretty bad like she'd pulled it or something. Alex noticed Becky coming up to her. Sam's biggest fangirl wore cat pajamas and glasses; her hair was bedraggled, but her expression was awed.

"That's Cas?" she asked Alex, gaping at Castiel who was currently being told where to go by a firefighter—he looked a little annoyed by that, honestly. "The real Cas?"

"In the flesh," Alex confirmed. She heard how her own voice held a note of admiring to it without her even intending it.

"Wow!" Becky said, eyes bright. "Are the rumors true? Him and Dean…?"

Destiel. Alex chortled internally and gave Becky a knowing look. "Yeah, super true. Dean's real gay for Cas. Ask him about it next time you see him." Becky looked like all her wildest dreams had come true and Alex, ever the troll, suppressed her smile, patted the other woman on the shoulder. "I'll catch you later Becky."

Alex limped over to where the Ghostfacers had dumped all their equipment (they were crying and hugging each other, oblivious to the world). While they were distracted Alex took care of something, then looked for Cas. She worked her way through the little crowd of people, searching for his face. He was being accosted by fangirls and he was very confused. When he saw her, his eyes seemed to beg save me. Alex grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the side. His skin was dusted lightly with the grayness of soot, and if possible, it made him more handsome than ever. "You okay?" she asked him softly, looking him over briefly, wanting to hug him but feeling like she shouldn't—not in front of all these people.

"Fine, thank you," he said, smiling just slightly at her inquiry before he turned to look at the house questioningly. "What was this place?" Around them, the onlookers were dissipating as firefighters told everyone to break it up, go home, let them do their job.

Alex looked at the burning house regretfully, her shoulder touching Cas's as they stood there together. Black smoke was rising up into the brightening sky. "Profitable, for one," she said, mostly to herself, then looked at Cas more fully. "This house was built by the widow of the Winchester rifle guy and she apparently thought if she built onto it forever she'd live forever." Alex had to admit both to herself and out loud: "And well... I guess until now she sorta did." Sarah Winchester was finally going to pass on. The bell tower fell inward into the house with a sad groan and a clang.

Alex looked up and sidelong at Cas, glad his familiar presence was beside her. She remembered his wings and was intimidated and interested alike. "Cas, you'd make a pretty good hunter, you know that?"

He seemed to think that was an interesting idea and met her gaze with faint curiosity. "Do you think so?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling a little now. "Wouldn't mind having you along." Their eyes met again and she just wanted to be with him now—enough with everything and everyone else. "Take me home?" she asked softly, reaching over and taking his hand. She then realized what she'd just called the attic: home.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Harry bounded over to them, interrupting the moment. "Thanks for helping us find Maggie." He pointed to the camcorder he held with an expression of elation. "This footage is gonna be worth so much more now that the place is a goner!"

Alex smiled in a veiled way, sidling a little closer into Cas. "Happy to help, guys."

Harry was abruptly staring at the camcorder with a falling expression, checking it with a failing expression. "Hey—where's the tape?" His eyes snapped up in shock, seeming to ask how could you. "Alex, where's the tape!"

Alex winked at him and squeezed Cas's hand. "Now, Cas," she said, and he understood and transported them away.

They were in the quiet and cozy attic again and Alex held up the stolen mini camcorder tape she'd snatched and hidden in her pocket… and then winced. "Ah, dammit, my hip," she groaned, then sat on the edge of the bed and hissed. Cas, still sooty, followed her closely, knelt in front of her.

"Pulled hip muscle and smoke poisoning," he said almost to himself as his eyes wandered her body in a strictly studious way. She watched him, stilled by his nearness. God, she'd missed him. He looked into her eyes. "Although I think we both know you've done the latter to yourself on occasion purposefully."

It took her a second, but then she understood that he was poking fun (in his own way) at her cigarette habit. "…I haven't smoked in awhile Cas," she said, cracking a grin at his unexpected joke. "Be proud of me." She let her fingers brush against his face, forgetting the joke and everything else and just feeling so damn glad to see him again. Her smile faded into a more deeply affected, emotional expression. "It's really good to finally see you again."

"I feel the same." His eyes adored hers silently.

Without another moment's notice she reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close even as she wiggled forward to be close to him. She kissed him hello and I missed you so much, not even caring that they were both a charred, ashy mess. She felt his hand on the side of her face and a familiar warm light came from him and into her, she felt how his thumb brushed against her cheek and she broke the kiss in surprise, now staring into a normal-looking Cas (no soot to be seen). Her throat felt normal again, her hip no longer ached, her skin and clothes were clean once more.

"Wow," Alex commented softly, because he'd never healed her while giving her a kiss before and it seemed so intimate and tender in a way she'd never imagined.

"Do you feel better?" He asked, still knelt in front of her with hands now resting loosely on her knees.

"Yeah," she said while nodding faintly. She didn't even mean about her physical state. Mid-morning South Dakota light filtered in through the window. Cas nodded and stood, pulling her to stand too. "Hey, while you're doing your magic angel stuff," Alex said, suddenly remembering and thinking she should ask before she forgot again, "can you take out my wisdom teeth?" Cas's face showed slight confusion and Alex explained: "You put them back in after Nandriel and they've really been hurting, I keep forgetting to mention it."

His face registered surprise. "I'm so sorry—I didn't know," he said, seeming abashed at himself. "I'll take care of it immediately."

With another light touch, he made it better and Alex grinned suddenly as the pressure in the back of her mouth disappeared. She put a hand against her jaw in pleasant surprise. "Damn. You would be the most excellent dentist," she joked. "That was so much better than the first time I got them out."

Cas was mildly shamefaced. "I'm very sorry about how hastily I healed you," he apologized guiltily. "I was rushed. I think I… 'reset' everything except the wards I burned onto your ribs."

Alex brushed it off. "It's okay. Don't worry about it." Although… she looked down at her hand. A dark scar used to cut across it but no longer did. "All my scars disappeared, you know," she said, thoughtful.

"…You were ashamed of your scars," Cas said, but it was a half-question, the beginning of the realization that maybe he'd made a mistake.

"Not all of them," Alex said mildly. "Some of them had memories and meaning to them. Like the one that was here," she said, indicating her smooth, unmarred palm. "Every time I saw it, I remembered the first time you hugged me." Their eyes met and her heart beat a little faster as she touched her own stomach through her shirt, tracing a now-gone slash. "The ones here. I remembered you kissing them." The first time they'd been together here in the attic more than a year ago.

Cas's eyebrows knit and furrowed inward and upward when he understood. "I didn't intend to take something meaningful from you," he said, and Alex touched his arm reassuringly.

"Hey, it's life. Shit happens. And I've already got new ones," she said, trying to make him feel better. Her last comment only made him look further averse and upset. "Cas, don't feel bad about it," she coaxed sadly. "Humans get scars. It's evidence of living."

His intense eyes held hers unwaveringly. "It's evidence of my absence." Her little cajoling smile faded. When he said things like that, it cut her to the core. He looked sad and she suddenly felt the same. He looked around the attic and drew in a heavy breath, his squinting frown searching for something. "How long has it been since I was last here?"

"Two weeks." Alex waited for him to finally look back at her. She saw how he looked tired in a way that transcended the physical and her heart hurt for him. "You okay?" She wished she knew a better way to ask about the war, his mind, his heart.

At her concern, his face softened. "Yes. I am okay." As quickly as he'd grown unworried, the weight returned. "You almost weren't today." He worked his jaw in thought. "I'm going to post a stand-in guardian on you."

Alex's eyebrows raised faintly. "A what?"

"An angel I trust to watch over the house, see your comings and goings. Just to know where you are if you leave here." Alex made to protest but Cas shook his head, looking at her with a very human expression that seemed to ask her not to argue with him. "If you didn't wake up today—Alex, you would have burned alive." He let that very true statement settle onto her and Alex could say nothing. Yes. If he hadn't checked in on her when he had... she would be dead. The reality of it resounded with them both and for a moment, their eyes silently held. Cas then let out a regretful breath of air, seeming to be beating himself up. "I simply haven't been a good guardian to you ever since raising Dean from Hell. Before then all I did was watch over you. But after this, the vessel… Heaven's demands began to endlessly tear me apart."

Alex squinted slightly. "Wait a minute… you literally watched me all the time?" she asked, because she hadn't realized. "Not just… checked in here and there?" His face showed confusion and Alex felt suddenly, retroactively self-conscious. That'd be super creepy if it had been anyone other than him. Oh Jesus, wait. "Did you ever see anything… uh, personal?" she asked, mortified because he had to have if he'd done nothing but watch her.

Cas's expression remained serious. "I passed no judgement on you."

Alex fidgeted, feeling heat creep up her neck. She averted her gaze slightly, cleared her throat. "Well now I'm a little embarrassed," she said, letting a nervous breath of laughter escape. When she peeked up at Cas, he seemed to have some secret hidden in his eyes.

"Don't be," he said. "I understand now." He reached out, pushing his fingers through the hair beside her neck tentatively, letting his eyes flicker up to hers. His voice softened, grew huskier. "The magic of your touch."

Her mind exploded and went stupid when he said that. His fingers whispered against the skin of her neck and his eyes burned tenderly into hers, then he surprised her by leaning in and pressing a quiet kiss against the side of her face, letting his space invade hers. Her eyes fell closed and she held onto him. It was like being given water after wandering the desert endlessly: his touch, his closeness, his simple and quiet way. He drew back from her a little, hand resting against the side of her face. Alex wondered if it were possible for eyes to make love because that's what his were doing to hers. He leaned in to kiss her mouth but she held him away, just for a moment, because she had to tell him something.

"I figured out the message you left," she said softly, thinking of it all over again. I will think of you ceaselessly until the hours return me to you once more. "And I learned something, too." She was probably going to butcher the pronunciation but she went ahead anyway: "Olani hoath ol."

In response, his face showed surprise, affection. "...How strange to hear you speak my language," he momentarily replied in a deep, warm, entranced voice. His eyes showed the most gentle and tranquil things as he saw her anew. "Olani hoath ol zod," he replied, a whisper. I love you too.

Which one of them leaned in for the kiss? It was impossible to tell. The way they'd missed each other and the distance they both felt led the affection into deep, fervent waters. In over their heads, Alex and Cas kissed with growing urgency, growing bodily closeness, growing need. And just as Cas was walking her backwards slowly toward the bed, arms circling around her waist, a sudden shift was felt and even before he pulled away from the kiss, Alex's stomach sank. His expression was filled with regret and distaste, his eyes were shut and his eyebrows screwed together as he bowed his head down. "I'm… being called away," he said, voice low with frustration.

Holding onto him breathlessly, completely blindsided, Alex shook her head. "Now?"

His eyes met hers regretfully. "I'm afraid so."

She didn't let go of him. Childishly, she wanted to cry. "When can you come back?" she asked, voice a little tight with something close to panic, because that hadn't been enough time, not at all.

He shook his head, and the same frustration and anxiety she felt was written over him all over. "I don't know. I never know." He looked upward with reluctance. "I'm sorry, Alex," he said, and so was she, but she didn't want him to leave and see her stricken as his last memory. So she made herself smile at him as his tense, conflicted eyes held hers. He took another step back and their hands slipped apart. The second his touch was lost, he disappeared and the attic was empty and quiet in the worst ways.

Fighting an awakened body and the need for him in every way possible, Alex let her forced smile fall and looked down, letting out a heavy, sad breath. It always came down to the goodbye. Always the goodbye.

---

Fifteen Minutes Later

Hot shower water cascaded over her and she looked down, letting it run off her head and drip down all around. She had a palm flat against the cheap plastic tub wall. She closed her eyes and tilted her neck either way, easing tension there. She didn't even need a shower but she'd decided to out of frustration and a need to do something with herself, maybe calm down a little.

Her mind drifted to Cas, a few minutes ago—and her body was inspired to stoke a sweet internal fire at the memory of his touch and kiss. She breathed in and let out a deeply dissatisfied sigh, hating this current reality of being separated. It was hard not to get discouraged and feel defeated but this was hard: being separated for weeks at a time and then given ten, fifteen minutes together only to be yanked apart again. She reminded herself that she wasn't the only one feeling that way and thought of Cas, needing her and wanting comfort from her and not being able to fully have it. He was clearly running himself ragged in the war upstairs and Alex wondered what he would do if in some alternative version of reality, he had to face it all without knowing he had someone waiting faithfully on him back on earth.

Alex set her jaw firmly, trying to ignore her own body which kept wracking her nerves with sexual frustration. Her nerves were still begging for the effect only Cas had on her and she considered trying to take care of the, ahem, issue herself…

A soft noise outside the shower sent Alex's blood pounding with sudden adrenaline and she whipped her head up, unhooking the crowbar she had brought into the shower with her. She yanked the white shower curtain aside while holding it modestly to herself… only to see Cas standing there, his head tilted questioningly at the crowbar in her hand. "Geez, Cas, you startled me," Alex said, letting out a couple heavy, riled up breaths.

"…Why do you have a crow bar?" he asked, eyes thin with perplexed questioning.

"Uh… just in case?" She set it down outside of the tub awkwardly, leaning it between the wall and the tub. She then looked at Cas curiously, not sure if she should be worried at his reappearance. Was something wrong? "…I thought you had to leave."

He was still looking at the crowbar. "False alarm."

"You sure?" Alex asked, doubly surprised at his offhand use of slang.

"Yes," he said, studying her again before abruptly averting his eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to invade your privacy."

It was sweet how he still gave such careful respect to her. She smiled a little. "I don't mind," she said, and his eyes raised to hers. Desire flared in her veins and made her bold, gave her an idea. "You… ever showered before, Cas?"

He didn't understand yet. "…No."

Alex wet her lips slowly. "You want to?"

His eyebrows moved in together. "Now?" He clearly wasn't realizing what she implied. "But you're in there and I have no need of…" he began, then sudden understanding wrote itself across his face. "Oh. I see what you're asking of me."

Alex hid a smile and reached out for his hand. Water dripped down onto the floor between them. "Do you?" she asked softly, and she almost sounded coy to herself.

Cas's eyes seemed to grow darker and fuller as they flickered between hers. "I think so."

Alex let go of his hand and let her gaze stay on him a minute longer before she let her eyes tell him to come in with her when he was ready. She let go of the curtain and it fell between them again. Alex let out a nervous breath from a small circle she made with her lips. She was kind of surprised she'd just asked him into the shower with her, honestly. Even though she definitely wasn't a virgin anymore, he still made her so nervous and shy sometimes. On the other side of the curtain Alex heard the telltale sounds she recognized as Cas undressing—the swishing of the trench coat, the whisper of his tie, the clink of his belt, the thuds of his shoes.

Facing the shower head, Alex tried extra hard to fight the nerves bundling in her stomach. It was stupid to be so self conscious about being seen naked, wasn't it? Especially after they'd been together so many times and he'd seen and touched basically every inch of her body but… it was still exciting and terrifying alike. Once he was actually in there, she wouldn't be so nervous. She heard the shower curtain rustle and her heart rate picked up. She heard his feet, one at a time, softly thud against the floor of the shower behind her and she didn't turn around. Was this dumb? Was he going to think she was nothing but a sex-crazed maniac? Was he maybe upset that she wanted to have sex? Would he prefer conversation or some kind of date or something? What if like those girls said at the stupid convention he wasn't human and the hormones confused him? She thought of his wings that she'd seen earlier that day as irrational fears tumbled through her mind like a flurry of errant snow.

And then she felt his fingers gently skim against where his hand had bruised her two weeks ago during climax. His touch banished her thoughts completely and brought back a fluttering series of memories of him and her and intimacy. "Did I do this?" he asked, his voice soft with shock.

She frowned, turning her head a little. She couldn't see it. "Is it still there?" She was genuinely surprised. It must have been faint by now.

"Why didn't you tell me I did this?" He sounded faintly horrified.

"Bruises happen, Cas," she told him soothingly over her shoulder. "It's okay."

There was a pause. "I won't let it happen again," he promised and then came closer, hugging his arms around her gently and crossing them over her so that his hands rested modestly on her upper arms. She felt the strong, broad planes of his chest press into her back and she softened into him, taking hold of one of his hands and kissing the knuckles with strong, lingering lips. His closeness was comforting, the remedy for the distance that dominated their relationship right now.

"I know you won't," she answered, letting him know that it was all right. They both knew he was strong enough to snap her bones in half if the urge struck him—weren't accidents prone to happen? And bruises could happen with anyone, angel or not.

Anyway, that's not what she focused on right then. He stood close, bare skin to bare skin—nothing was between them at all. "I miss you so very much," his voice—warm, sweet, husky—murmured in her ear.

Her chest constricted at the feeling she heard behind his words, sparks raced along every inch of her skin. "I miss you," she replied, and the shower head noise almost muffled her soft reply completely.

He dipped his head and his lips brushed a kiss against her neck. She sighed, contentedness and warmth rushing through her at his touch. She kissed his knuckle again, holding his hand close to her, suddenly content to just do this. Hold each other. She didn't even need anything else. His nose brushed her cheek. His free hand traced up and down against her upper arm softly. "Your skin feels different when it's wet," he observed innocently. And that's when Alex decided she could go for more than just holding each other. But she decided to let him lead. She couldn't tell if he wanted sex or not. His fingers skimmed across her wet shoulder in slow curiosity, across the dip of her collarbone. He inhaled deeply and slowly through his nose, which still rested against her cheek. Heaven help me, everything he does is insane. His hand skimmed straight down over her middle—between her breasts, across her sternum, to the skin of her abdomen where he dragged digits left to right as rivulets of water poured down her body. His fingertips left trails of fire and heat across her wet skin, making the ever-familiar feeling of desire tighten her all over.

His touch seemed so exploratory and modest and Alex was confused—where was this going? What he did next told her: His hand pressed flat-palmed and splayed-finger to the top of her thigh, dragging upward and inward slowly, maddening her, exciting her. With a boldness and daring that she didn't recognize in him, he wordlessly let his fingers press against her between the legs, drawing a startled, approving little gasp out of her mouth even as his other hand moved and pressed palm-first to cup against one of her breasts. She found her back arching, head falling back to his shoulder as he let his thumb brush over her nipple purposefully. A little cry escaped her lips and he repeated the action and she could feel how he was the same as she was now: quickly becoming very aroused. Beside her ear, she could hear how his breathing had quickened and she reached up to entangle fingers in his hair then pull his head closer to hers so that their cheeks pressed. She felt how his heart thudded hard in his chest against her back, how his hand tightened lusciously on her breast. His hand dipped even lower between her legs and he plunged two fingers into her without warning. A little sound like "oh!" escaped her lips in erotic surprise even as he pressed a kiss to her jawline then held his slack mouth there, lips to her skin, forgetting to kiss as he concentrated on grinding his fingers in and out of her. He asked her in a heady whisper if she enjoyed that—and she nodded and said yes immediately, both a plea to continue and an exclamation of astonishment at how good it was. Helpless to do anything but, she pressed back into him, letting her wet skin rub him into the fullest arousal. A soft groan in the base of his throat sounded and he took the invitation, crushing his hips forward onto the softness of her behind even as his arm and hand tightened, pulling her against him hard. Suffering the most such divine torture on earth, Alex craned her neck back and up, wanting to kiss his mouth and he tried to meet her, but the angle was awkward and difficult.

She twisted, needing to taste the kisses of his mouth more than anything else and he removed his hand, letting her turn to face him and hold him. His hair was wet, stuck to his head, his eyes were worried and needy and he cupped her face in both hands. Alex met his waiting lips with hers, holding his face and kissing him with her entire body. Water sprayed over them like a warm rain shower and she slid her hands down to his hips then grasped him solidly by the ass, pulled him against her so that their pelvises were flush against one another's. A muffled little moan sounded from him and he turned them and crowded her against the wall of the shower.

Their mouths and tongues tangled with deep and maddening slowness as one of Cas's hands traversed from her face down between their bodies, pausing to touch and knead a breast before curving around her side—he sent more sparks racing up her spine as his hand dared to grasp the curve of her ass. His entire body leaned down a little as he took that same hand and surprised her when he lifted her leg slightly, pushed his fingers into her again from behind without warning. A soft, surprised moan was enticed from her lips—Cas was always so tentative and never just took her as he pleased, but today was different. He was hurried and frenzied overall, doing what he wanted to her without a second thought. As always, he seemed overcome to touch her where he was and let his fingers move in her even harder and faster, drawing her reactions out, heightening the frustration they both felt. Alex heard herself whispering words without any sensible pattern: yes, no, please, ah, oh, shit. Cas could apparently no longer find it within himself to simply move against the outside of her.

With sudden decisiveness his fingers pulled out and she was empty again, frustrated—but even as she thought that, he gripped the back of her thighs solidly and pulled her legs apart, lifting her up, his torso pressed to hers, her back sliding against the plastic shower shell. He stunned her with his brazen ferocity: Even as his mouth swallowed hers, he thrust into her with a single strong motion, making her world spin with pleasure. The kiss broke as they both gasped at the torturous, amazing feeling of him inside of her. Her fingers tightened in the hair at the back of his head as she remained dumbstruck and transfixed.

He moved his hands back, pulling her legs around his middle assertively, holding her against the shower wall with his weight alone. Her legs locked around his torso and then one of his hands stayed where it was, gripping her thigh and supporting her even as the other one tangled in her soaked hair. His thumb was on the hinge of her jaw as he drowned her in another kiss and began to drive her to the edge of blissful insanity with his body—she joined him in the struggle and triumph of moving against each other like waves crashing in the ocean and he let out an anxious sound at it. She had a single thought zip through her mind, leaving aftershocks of amazement and pleasure—an angel is making love to me. His wet chest slid repeatedly against hers and the steam made every inhale feel thick and substantial—he was in control and passionate, clearly making an effort not to be too physically hard on her, being gentle and holding back on his desirous passion. Still, she felt how hungry and desperate he was through the firm way his hands held her, the deep, fervent way he moved in her, the increasingly feverish groaning sounds he made when their mouths broke apart.

Her body began to tighten impossibly in anticipation, begging for the promised moment of release. Their eyes briefly communicated and he understood, strained focus tightening his features, making her grab hold of his shoulders for support. He kissed her again, sloppy and unchecked, noisy breaths coming in and out of his mouth and nose as she grabbed his face hard with both hands, trying to kiss him back even though her vocal chords were volunteering desperate and rising gasping pants. Burning pleasure was piling up and he was careening her toward the absolute brink of insanity. She needed it so bad she could scream. Oh god oh god oh god. She whimpered helplessly as he clutched at her hard, shaking, his kiss begging her to come so that he could let go too. His deep, anxious movements and his own rising distress thrust her to the point of no return and it clapped over her thunderously. Her body was out of her own control and she cried out into his mouth as she obeyed the pleasure, as she burst like a supernova in his arms, head falling back in ecstasy; she held on, seizing and quaking around him, loud sounds like sobs falling out of her mouth with wild abandon. Cas was with her—his fingers tightened in her hair and his body shuddered in the rhythm of sweet release, his face buried down in the crook of her neck as a long, masculine groan of satisfaction and relief broke from his lips, as he rocked against her a few final times, carrying them both on a riptide of bliss, extending the feeling of utter erotic delight, giving her every last inch of his affection, letting the end of the encounter fade out like a candle wick burns away—slowly, quietly, gracefully.

Relieved of every tension and burden and worry, Alex went slack in his strong arms, her head falling onto his water-spackled shoulder, her arms loosely circled around him. Her breaths were loud and awed by what he had just done to her and made her feel. He didn't move—he remained with his face turned into the side of her neck and she felt him blinking, breathing, regulating, his fingers loosening and beginning to trance sweet, tender sentiments against her skin. Still out of breath with her veins pulsing in pleasure and contentedness, she pressed a long kiss into the hinge of his scruffy jaw—a feeble way of telling him silently how she treasured him. Her eyes took in his drenched hair and she thought how it looked almost black wet like that. She thought of his wings and closed her eyes, breathing in tremulously. Water still streamed over them like rain.

---

They were curled up together in bed: hair wet, bodies naked, blankets covering them. It was silent, each of them thinking something different. Alex was especially quiet.

"Was I too rough?" Cas asked momentarily, apprehensively, his quiet question loud in the silent attic. "Or too… forward?"

Alex lifted her head from his chest to look at him. "No. You never have been, Cas." Her mouth turned upward at one side in a soft smile. "It's passion. And I feel it too."

"Then what is it?" he asked, proving himself more observant than she knew possible.

Her eyes flickered up to peer into his anxiously and she thought of him glowing with power when she'd seen him smite his enemies, she thought of how a single touch of his hand healed her every wound, she thought of those other-worldly midnight-black expanses bristling from his shoulder blades. "Seeing your wings today… it just reminded me." Her voice softened. It was hard to get her mind around it fully. "What you are."

They both understood what she meant. Even though he possessed a human body, he simply wasn't the same species as her. And their differences were quite staggering to contemplate. Cas's eyes were sad but full of conviction as they looked into hers. "What I am," he murmured, moving some hair back from the side of her face, "is the one who loves you."

Tension softened away a little. "I know," she whispered, her heart growing in size. But apprehension remained.

"I'm not human, Alex," Cas ventured in forlorn nature momentarily. He gently searched her gaze, both empathetic and apologetic. "Why do you think our relationship is and was forbidden?" He became resolute—rules be damned. "But none of that matters to me." Their hands found each other underneath blankets and fingers interlaced. Cas brushed patterns against her skin with his thumb as their silent, loaded gazes spoke for a long moment. "I've often thought of how you and I might never have met if it weren't for Dean going to Hell," the angel shared momentarily, somber and reflective. "How if not for the apocalypse, we might never have grown close. The circumstances that brought us together have never been ideal. In fact… they've been truly terrible."

Alex wet her lips slowly, trying to pluck up the courage to whisper this next dread-filled question aloud: "Was my soul damned to Hell because of us?"

Pain swam in his eyes. "I don't know." Cas resisted following the line of thought further. "But I changed it and as long as I live, you will never go there."

His intensity didn't shake her and she shook her head in apathy. Maybe Hell was where she belonged. In fact, maybe she'd like it better. "In Heaven I was alone in darkness, in nothing. Hell would almost be better." Cas's face showed complete abject and aghast shock at her statement and she shrugged, feeling stupid and small. "At least when you feel pain you know you're still alive."

She'd seemed to have struck a nerve and Cas's face tightened. "Hell wouldn't just be pain—it would be everlasting torment."

Alex remembered being in the darkness and confusion and madness of Heaven. "So would Heaven," she said, depressed. She was screwed either way.

"No," Cas said, holding her head tighter and surer, demanding her gaze. "I won't let it be torment."

Alex looked him in the eye, brows knitting together. "What do you mean?"

There was a long pause and his hand loosened, his fingers traced through her hair gently, sweetly. Alex cursed herself for the urge to touch him, kiss him in that moment. "You said that when an angel was with you, Heaven wasn't dark and empty." His thumb rested against the side of her face and sadness showed on his features. "So when the time comes, I'll stay at your side in Heaven for the rest of all time."

Her heart skipped a beat and her love for him soared even as she thought of how she didn't deserve that, his love was unreal—and maybe they were truly meant for each other in the most fucked up way possible. "You'd do that?" she asked, not sure if she wanted to cry from happiness or self-hatred. "Eternity in Heaven?"

His voice softened and caught. "I said forever, Alex," he said, and her eyes blinked against emotional tears at the tender severity in his voice—the near tears in his eyes. "And I meant it."

God help her, she would damn herself a thousand times for Cas and didn't even fully understand how she could do that to either of them. Castiel shifted so that his face was above her and not beside her and Alex knew the look in his eyes and her body and mind were both traitors, propelling her forward to receive the kiss he brushed to her lips, driving her to pull him close and accept his questioning touch. Alex couldn't resist him at all, not even for a second, even though the thought of what they were doing rested heavily on her all over again as Cas's mouth opened on hers, deepening the kiss and sending desire hurtling through her all over again. He was sweeter than Heaven and hotter than Hell, and if he was her damnation, then she gladly welcomed the gates of Hades.

She clung to him and pulled back from his all-consuming kiss, her eyes glassy with sudden tears as the stakes hit her all over again. As the impossible depth of her need for him alarmed her. "Don't lose this war, Cas," she begged, a feeble and frightened request.

Breathless, he contemplated her for a moment. Grim determination settled over his handsome face. "I won't." His voice softened and almost cracked. "No matter what it takes."

Oh if she'd only known the growing secrets he was keeping from her and that "no matter what it takes" meant it would take almost everything and nearly destroy them both in the end…

But both of them were unaware of what the future held and would later count themselves fools for different reasons. That day, all they knew was the love they couldn't resist. They let passion sweep them away and they did the thing that had damned them both in the first place all over again, stacking their transgressions ever higher in willful ignorance.