Song Remains the Same

Chapter 88 / Nowhere Girl

"You aren't falling apart. You're well beyond that. You're just rattling along now."
- Darrell Drake

At the edge of campus, smoking a cigarette in the afternoon chill. That's where Dean found Alex a few minutes later after calming himself down.

She was pacing slow and aimless all by herself in the bleak, monotone landscape. Dean could pick his sister out of a crowd easily even by the back of her head—always had been able to. But today, for a slight second, he almost didn't recognize her. She looked different to him even before he could see her face. He'd seen her sad, he'd seen her unhappy, he'd seen her defeated. Or at least he thought he had. But this was something else or worse. Before she knew he was there, before she knew she had company, Dean glimpsed her without the protective walls for a brief second. She seemed dead and apathetic, yet still in deep pain. The contents of the file he'd just read echoed through his mind and hurt him on her behalf all over again.

Alex noticed him then as he walked up and she was clearly startled at his unexpected appearance, immediately becoming guarded as she frowned deeply. Her cigarette hovered beside her face, temporarily forgotten. "What are you doing here?" she asked, staring hard like she wasn't sure if it were him or not.

Her reaction to seeing him in person for the first time in a couple months was a little disconcerting and unexpected. Dean took a couple startled seconds to know how to react, then he tried being forcibly lighthearted through his own misgivings. "I was, uh, in the neighborhood," he said, attempting a smile through his confusion and pain. It was tough, though, and didn't last long. Alex almost looked unhappy to see him which was a hugely unexpected low blow combined with everything else. He had imagined their reunion differently than how it was actually unfolding. He'd imagined that she'd be excited to see him and hug him. And instead she was standing off and looking at him in something close to suspicion. Maybe it was just because he'd caught her off guard. Maybe he should have called to give her a head's up. This wasn't like her. Dean shrugged slightly, gesturing a little and chancing going a little closer as he tried to remain casual for her sake. He kept his half-joking tone there, giving her an opportunity to stop being standoffish. "So you against hugs now, or…?"

She contemplated him a couple more seconds, growing reluctant. "No, you just… you surprised me." She sounded really tired and dull, like stringing together words was exhausting for her. "I didn't know you were coming." With dodgy eyes, she stepped into his waiting hug, but it was a strange, half-hearted embrace and Dean could sense her aversion. She patted his back twice then pulled away, tucked her hair behind her ear tiredly and didn't look him in the eye, instead studying the cigarette in between her fingers. Dean watched her close, getting more and more hurt by the second. His family—the only thing worth holding on to for him—was pulling apart at the seams. As if she knew what he was thinking (or maybe she was thinking the same as him), Alex cleared her throat reluctantly and flicked some cigarette ash down with disinterest. "So Sam visited a couple days ago…"

It was a question, not really a statement, and Dean understood the unspoken query: Why aren't you two together? What's going on? That topic was top of the list on things Dean didn't want to talk about.

He and Sam had a slight falling out a few days ago when Sam found out about what Dean did to that Kitsune named Amy. Well… 'slight falling out' wasn't really the way to put it. Sam had been so furious that he'd ditched completely after exploding in a harsh tirade. Dean was trying not to feel bad about what he did, trying not to second guess putting down a monster, Sam's friend or not. He was trying to believe he did the right thing. He didn't really want to mention the entire debacle it to Alex, as his instincts were that she'd side with her twin on this one. So he evaded the truth of the matter. "Yup, we're uh… dividing and conquering right now." …More like fighting and not speaking.

Alex saw that he was hiding something, and he saw that she saw it. "Uh huh." She looked at him a couple seconds longer in a wary, shrewd way then she sighed and shuffled a couple steps over to the bench that was nearby. Apparently she didn't have the energy or drive to try and get the truth out of him. Dean joined her in sitting, but not too close. Alex hunched over her knees, took another inhale and blew smoke out, watching it flutter into the thin, winter air. "He seems to be doing better," she said blandly of their brother, but Dean caught the mild worry and even slight jealousy she tried to hide in that apathetic tone.

Last she knew, Sam was hallucinating like crazy and having problems even functioning. Different story after the past few months. Somehow, the kid had found it in himself to find a way to control and rise above the hallucinations. He went from half-insane to almost freakishly well-adjusted, and Dean wasn't even entirely sure how. But he was definitely glad. "Yeah, he's got the Satan-is-my-copilot thing on lockdown," he said, then looked at his sister hard and sidelong. She either didn't feel his gaze or didn't want to look back at him. He waited a few seconds and she kept ignoring him. Uncomfortable, sad, hurt that Alex was being so unapproachable, Dean decided to try and give her a fair chance to come out and talk to him. He really wanted that. He really hoped she would let him be there for her now, because he was distraught over how absent he'd been the past few months. "So." He wasn't sure how to approach this subject matter. He settled for a general, if deeply concerned, question: "How you doin'?" Alex smirked ever so slightly at the ground in a self-deprecating way and Dean amended himself before she decided to be a smartass or to lie. "And don't say fine."

That smirk was still there. But it wasn't really smirk, it looked more like a grimace. A long pause. "I'm okay," she said in an infuriatingly glib tone that suggested that was all the answer she was going to give.

Dean was offended and angry, and as a result he spoke without thinking. "You are not okay," he retorted. "I read your file." That got her attention. That woke her up. Alex's head whipped sideways as she looked at him with an expression of utter disbelieving anger, like she wasn't sure if he were telling the truth or not. "'Okay' is not the word for all that stuff in there," Dean surmised stiffly, already sensing the oncoming storm he'd just unleashed.

Alex shot to her feet, completely enraged. "What the hell…!" she practically shouted, visibly shaking. "Are you for real? That's not fair Dean!" Her pretty face twisted up into a defiant, furious expression. "To, to come in here and, and… ask me how I am when you already read my damn file? What kind of mind game is that? You can't do that! I don't want you to know that stuff! I don't even know what's all in there, Jesus Christ! That shit is private! Who the hell do you think you are?!"

Dean stood up too, trying to defend himself, matching her volume. "Your brother, your very worried brother!"

The attitude she began to display put Sam's trademark bitch face to shame. "Oh that is so fucking rich… pretending you have my best interests in mind when all you wanna do is find more man pain for yourself so you can feel okay about how much you drink!"

Dean blinked twice, shocked at the out-of-nowhere and seemingly very bitter jab. "Hey, wh—" he began to get pretty pissed, too. "That is not why I read it!" He set his sister with a flabbergasted expression. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously!" she fired back acidly. "You had no right, no fucking right!" Disgust and disbelief made her shake her head at him. "How low can you be, huh?" She turned as if to walk away and rubbed a hand against her forehead, muttering foul words under her breath. She paused a couple steps off.

For a second, Dean stood there dumbly. Then he heaved a disgusted sigh, wishing he knew how to go through life without constantly fucking shit up. He was tired of the drama and of being the bad guy. "You know, maybe I shouldn't have read it," he said, talking to her back. "Maybe that was wrong." He took a beat because his emotions suddenly choked him when he thought about what that file had in it and how Alex was staying silent on all the things hurting her and defeating her, how she was rejecting help, support, and love from where it mattered most: family. "But would you have told me?" he prompted earnestly. "The, the stuff that's going on with you?" She stiffened visibly and Dean's voice broke. So much grief flooded him. "The suicide attempt?" He still couldn't believe it. That was his worst nightmare—he'd lost her and Sam a couple times over to horrific deaths and then she went and spit in the face of his love, his efforts by trying to end her life again? It was unthinkably hurtful and it made no sense that she could be that hopeless. Dean couldn't bring up the other thing he had found out about—the miscarriage. It was too much and he knew he shouldn't have found that out at all, that he had overstepped bounds. Oh well, too late. He couldn't take it back. He was also pretty horrified that the file has said sexual assaults plural, like there had been more than the one with Glen—Dean hoped it was just a typo or something. Alex didn't turn around and he couldn't see her face, but he imagined she was struggling just like he was. "Breaking my heart, Al," he murmured, meaning every word and not able to fully believe she would try and take her own life. "I'm supposed to be the one you tell this stuff to."

She whirled, startling him with the speed in which she moved. "I never signed a contract that said I had to tell you shit," she spat, shocking him all over again. "You aren't entitled to know every fucking detail of my life, Dean!"

Slapped in the face and startled at the way she was lashing out, Dean was defensive and victimized. "I'm supposed to be your big brother, I'm supposed to help you!" he protested.

She folded her arms across herself and shifted her weight defiantly, cigarette hovering between two fingers as a small trail of smoke blew sideways. Her suddenly cool and sarcastic mask was the final mystery for Dean. "You could help me by respecting my privacy for once in your damn life."

Damn. It never used to be like this—they had always known everything about each other growing up, the secrets had been few and far between. He felt like she might as well have been telling him she hated him and wanted nothing to do with him. Utterly stung, Dean wondered what the hell they were telling her at this crazy house. To give up on her family and keep everything a secret? To push away the few people in the world who you had left? "You used to let me in," he said uncertainly, not sure what had changed and almost at the point of tears because it felt like he had really lost her, like she'd slipped out of his fingers completely. "You used to tell me everything." She vaguely rolled her eyes, disrespecting him completely. Angry to be scorned like that, pissed she would roll her eyes at his pain, Dean turned got a whole lot verbally tougher. "The Alex Winchester I know would never—never give up like you have," he accused. No reaction from her except a single blink of the eyes. Dean's insides were boiling. "You keep saying I'm the one in the wrong here, but I have to learn from a damn piece of paper that you tried to end your own life?" he demanded bluntly. His temperature was rising. "How fucking selfish are you? Huh? Did you even stop to think what that would do to me? To Sam?" Dean came up short, suddenly wondering something truly upsetting. "…Does he know?" She said she'd seen Sam. What if she'd confided in him?

Alex gave her brother a sour look. "Nope," she said derisively. "He didn't go read a file he had no business reading."

Oh my god. He was never gonna hear the end of it. "Alex. Come on," Dean appealed wearily, irritably. "Gimme a friggin' break." He'd made a mistake, she didn't need to throw it in his face. He got that she was mad at him. Loud and clear. She scoffed at him with a sound like pssh and started to leave, turning and walking away. Immediately incensed—it wasn't over and she didn't get to run away from this and he would be damned if they left things this way—Dean's voice raised in anger and he followed her fast. "Don't walk off like a damn child!" he commanded, grabbing her by the shoulder.

She whipped around, and not even giving him a chance to react she shoved him in the chest so hard that he stumbled back a few steps. "I'm not the child here you bastard!" she practically screamed, and Dean gaped at her furious outburst. She was so angry, like she'd been saving it up for a very long time. Her shoulders heaved with heavy, racing breaths, her nostrils were flared, her mouth was set into a thin, unforgiving line, she looked like a caged animal who had finally snapped. Her voice was low and wavered with the threat of total meltdown as she pointed at the ground with a stiff, jabbing finger. "I have put up with your crap for years and I am not doing it anymore, do you understand?" She abruptly gave a soft, barking laugh and gestured flippantly with her cigarette as she stared at him through narrowed eyes. "You wanna know how I feel, Dean?" she asked in a sarcastic, mean-spirited tone. "You wanna know what's 'going on' with me?" Her tough, angry facade faded a little, her eyes showed a flicker of the pain he'd seen when he first laid eyes on her today. "I don't see the point of life anymore."

She said that and then her eyes fell away and she shrugged as if to say she didn't know what to do with that information except to swallow it down and accept it, even though it was kind of sad even to herself. "I don't." She took a second. "I've fought, I've given everything, I've lost it all, and I am tired of this endless, hopeless bullshit. I don't want this and you know what? I don't need to take it anymore. I'm not obligated to you, or to the life, or to being what Dad wanted me to be. And I'm not gonna take it anymore. It's not what I want. Tired of it. Tired."

Dean stared, speechless. But… if she wasn't a hunter, what else would she be? What other life could she possibly see for herself except one spent wasting away here in crazy-land? Was that her plan? Dean was dismayed. He had failed in every way. Cas had ruined everything. Everything—put Alex on some pedestal, filled her mind with fantasies, then left her brain dead and grief-stricken like nothing else ever had.

Alex tapped her slowly-shortening cigarette hard, watching the ash fall in a little shower, oblivious to her brother. She was in deep, tense self-contemplation. "And I know what you're gonna say, but it's not just… it's not just Cas that made me walk away and give up." He heard how her voice caught around the angel's name. "It was Dad, it's the job, it's Mom, it's the years on the road and the ghosts and monsters, the angels and demons and all the damn pain I've had to live with for so long. For what? So I can be left in pieces?" She looked at him almost apathetically, but he saw the desperation hidden beneath the surface. She hadn't given up but she was pretending she had. There was the softest pained laugh when she saw Dean's silent, confused, wretched expression. "I'm not like you and I can't hold it together," she said. "I don't want to anymore and there's no reason for me to keep trying. For once in my life, I am gonna stop letting a brother or a father dictate what I do. I'm doing what I decide." The hopeless smirk was back. "And what I've decided is that I am gonna sit here and drug myself into a waking coma where I don't have to remember who I am or what I've seen or the people I love. This is my life. Not yours. So…" her mouth drew into a wan line and she looked off into the bleak distance. "There you go." She was trying to hold herself to a sarcastic tone. But she sounded and looked more depressed than anything else. "Aren't you glad you asked?" She brushed past him and sat down on the bench again and hunched over her knees then put a hand on her forehead, seeming to push away a great amount of anxiety. One of her legs jiggled up and down, bouncing repeatedly, her jaw clenched tight.

Dean was utterly clueless about what to say or do. Her monologue had left him confounded and gutted. The amount of pain she was in, the bitterness he could sense… it was so hard for him to see. Immediately, he wanted to find a way to fix it, make her feel better, and take away the pain. But he didn't know how. The implications that he and Dad had played central roles in her ending up like this… that was difficult as fuck. But what hurt the most was that his sister didn't want to be with him or around him anymore. He'd spent the past few months holed up in that cabin hoping that Alex's Sunny Meadows thing was like some phase or something. But he could clearly see now that Alex was at the point of what seemed like no return. This was real. It was legit. And he wasn't able to help like he used to be. She wouldn't let him.

Dean remembered when she'd been younger, just a scrawny kid with teeth too big for her face and eyes that could portray novels in just a glance. She was his shadow, his sidekick, his girl. In those years he'd had all these dreams for her and Sam. He'd dreamed they would be well-adjusted and happy, growing up to live great lives that escaped the nightmares Dean carried. But reality sang a different song. And it hurt. It hurt so bad. He slowly sat down beside his sister on the bench, overwhelmed with where he found himself in life.

"You deserved better," Dean finally said in a weak, affected voice. And she did. In everything. A better family, a better dad, a better childhood, better luck with romance… but it didn't matter that she deserved the world. She had gotten this.

This hopeless depressing life, the same one Dean lived and drank himself to stupor to escape from. He needed her to know he wasn't trying to pry or nose into her business out of a need to control. His need was to protect. But he just didn't know how half the time—life hadn't come with an instruction manual, he was making this shit up as he went along. The pressure was too much. Was it any wonder he could barely stand up underneath it? He just wanted to be there for Sam and Alex, but they were both shoving him away and making him feel like the scum of the earth. Maybe that was his own doing. He didn't know anymore. "I wanted the best for you, you know?" he asked quietly, looking down at the cracked pavement between his booted feet. "For you and Sammy." That was the irony, though. He'd wanted the best for them and condemned them to the worst. A cynical, sad little smile crossed his face. No wonder they didn't want to be around him. He was pathetic and needy and they were better than he was. "And I dragged you both along with me through the hell 'cause I couldn't stand the thought of being alone." He swallowed thickly, joining her in staring off blankly into space. "Like right now."

Alex shut her eyes briefly when he said that, her features contorting just slightly. When she opened her eyes back up, they were glassy with tears. "I can't be that for you," she said in a voice just above a whisper. She didn't look at him. "I can't. Not now. Not anymore. I'm sorry."

"I know," he said in a faint, choked up voice. "And I'm not asking you to." He shouldn't have, ever. But that was on him. His weakness, his fear of being alone, his inability to let go of certain things. But it was time to stop clinging onto his siblings like they were his lifelines. He had to accept what was happening, because fighting it just drove the wedge farther in. He had to be the strong one and let Sam and Alex go. He had to be the man Dad raised him to be: responsibilities and loyalties first.

Dean had never imagined it would end like this, though, with Alex effectively bowing out. Sam was the independent one, the one who was more liable to come and go. Dean had a feeling Sam would come back, but he didn't even know anymore about his sister. That was what got him. Alex was supposed to have always been with Dean. He had counted on that selfishly. And now, the past few years had taught him that she simply wasn't a given. She wasn't an extension of himself or a commodity. She was so much more of a person than he had ever given her credit for and he sort of hated himself for thinking he knew everything about her, that he had it all on lockdown, that he could trust her to stay and fight with him come what may. All under the guise of protecting her, maybe he'd helped ensure this outcome she was in now. Dean looked at his sister sidelong, putting his heart on the line, hoping she could just give him one last thing. "Just… please." He didn't hold back on emotion. "Promise me you won't do that again," he said, mentioning-without-mentioning her attempt at taking her own life. "Please. You get that bad off, call me and I will come here and we will figure it out."

She looked touched for a second then inexplicably became cynically amused at his request, almost laughing. "Don't worry Dean. I'm not gonna die anytime soon."

He didn't understand why she said it that way, but he didn't push his luck or ask what she meant. He was too tired and didn't want to start something again so he tried to please god steer the conversation back to lighter, friendlier waters that wouldn't hurt as much. "Better not," he quipped half-heartedly. "I'll kick your little chain-smoking ass."

She gave him the tiniest little smile and glance, then took one final drag off the almost-gone cigarette. "Yeah right." She threw it down and crushed it under her shoe, and they were quiet for a minute.

"I bet the food sucks here, huh," Dean asked, trying another joking comment.

"It's the worst," Alex confirmed blandly. She sounded like he did. Unable to commit to sounding okay.

Another short silence. "Anyone, uh, anyone here giving you any problems? I need to have any conversations with anyone?" Dean asked. He said it sort of teasingly, but he meant it.

Alex shook her head no and shrugged her mouth downward, her eyes far away. "Nah."

Dean nodded, watching her absently stare off into the distance and lightly scratch the skin of her inner wrist. "Good," he said softly. He wasn't sure if she even heard him.

A long silence commenced in which Dean stared off into the nearby parking lot unseeingly. He was trying to imagine life from here on out. Leviathans on the loose, the hunter network dwindling down, Sam pissed, Alex removed from the situation, Bobby trying to rebuild, Baby hidden away because those Leviathan doppleganger jerks had made her famous… part of Dean wanted to be furious and tear into both his siblings for putting things before the job. He needed help and he'd expected them to be there for this. But laying into them was crap Dad would do. And maybe Dean was a special kind of patched-together person who was suited to this miserable existence. Maybe Sam would leave it, maybe Alex would remain defeated by it. James had been partnering with him recently but Dean figured it was only a matter of time before she ditched him, too—the tension and attraction between them was getting harder and harder to ignore, for him anyway. And he knew the witch would cut and run any excuse she had. 'Cause like him, she was afraid of anything too real. And they were real. He hadn't even kissed her—and trust me he wanted to—but he didn't need to have kissed her to know how much was there between them. He shook himself, rueful at his thoughts about her. He hadn't seen it coming, he knew that much. A fucking witch. He had to smile to himself however briefly. A fucking, goddamn witch.

His smile began to fade. Why do I even do this? he wondered idly. His future was cursed. All of theirs were. Maybe he should do what Alex was doing. Throw in the towel and get medicated until he didn't care anymore. Easy way out. But crappy food and screws-loose roommates and regular appointments with a mind-doctor? That sounded worse than actual Hell. Dean couldn't. No matter how he felt, he had to stay committed to the job and to getting rid of the big bads. No one else was gonna. And the Leviathan weren't exactly gonna off themselves, were they? Dean frowned mildly, thinking of something. He peered at his sister sidelong. "So what'd you think about your America's Most Wanted brothers?" he asked, trying to joke around again but get a real answer at the same time.

She looked at him in confusion. "Huh?"

Dean got slightly confused, too. "Did you not see the news, or…?"

Alex looked totally unsure and a little impatient. "What are you talking about?"

"The man hunt?" Dean prompted. He saw no understanding flash across her face. That seemed odd. "Our doublemint twins?" Again, nothing. Surely she had heard about it. It had been all over primetime, he and Sam were famous now in the worst way possible. But she looked totally clueless. Dean's face scrunched into a puzzled frown. "Sam not tell you? Those Leviathan assholes copied me and him and then went on a killing rampage. It was all over the news for the past couple weeks." So much so that Dean was in semi-hiding and not showing his face more than necessary. Like right now at Sunny Meadows. He'd snuck in a side door thanks to Jamie who wasn't currently infamous.

Alex looked mildly surprised at the news. "Huh. Our cable's been out the past couple weeks…"

"Oh." Well that seemed like a pretty interesting coincidence. "Wondered why you didn't call freaking out when we started gunning down civilians on television," he said, deciding it might be a good thing she didn't have to see that. In her volatile and emotional state, she might have really flipped out seeing the crap that aired on national television. What a mess. "We took 'em down," Dean continued, cutting a long story short. "Turns out those gooey bastards have a weakness. Borax."

Alex's face scrunched up doubtfully. "What-ax?"

"It's in a lot of cleaning products. Burns those suckers pretty bad. Chop off the head and keep it separate from the body and you're sitting pretty." Dean cleared his throat, losing a little of the momentary good mood he'd gained. Killing monsters was one of the only things he had left these days. "Just in case you need to know. Hopefully you won't."

"Sounds like you boys have had a fun past couple months," Alex commented artlessly. It was hard to tell if she was jealous, unhappy about missing it, or just disinterested.

"Fun. Mm-hm." Dean chuckled forcibly. "Not the word I'd use for it, to be honest." Another long, empty silence stretched out between them and Dean could quite literally feel how hard his sister was working at holding him back. It sucked. This was so incredibly awkward right now and he really didn't know how to take her at the moment. It made him sad, frustrated, and a little angry too. Trying to connect with her somehow, Dean fell back on a comfortable subject, one he thought might interest her or at least one he could get her perspective on. "Hey, you heard anything about the elderly home?" He got another stumped look from her. "Golden Living Center," he clarified, gesturing vaguely to the south. "Nursing home down the street. Apparently a few old fogies have been disappearing outta there for the last few months. That and a few bodies have gone missing from the local morgue, too. Might be a job."

Alex looked mildly disgusted. "Right. A job." Her patience was markedly short. "Aren't you supposed to be figuring out a way to wipe our Leviathan friends off the map?"

He'd been trying to be nice and her bitchy tone fried his very last nerve. Dean said it before he even thought: "Kinda hard to do when your brother and sister ain't helpin'." He regretted it the second it slipped out, especially when he got a very Sam-esque dirty look from Alex. "Sorry," he muttered, kicking himself. "Didn't mean it like that."

"How did you mean it then?" she challenged, then gave an aggravated huff and looked away in an attempt to visibly make herself calm down. She rubbed her palms together for a minute, pressed her lips in, and gnawed the inside of her mouth. After a few seconds, she sounded a little calmer. Wouldn't look at him yet though. "Why are you and Sam fighting, anyway? I haven't seen him that mad in awhile."

"We're not fighting," Dean protested, sounding too innocent and obvious.

Alex looked sidelong at him pointedly, her eyes suspicious and discerning. "He wouldn't say what happened either, but come on. I can tell when you two are having your periods at each other. What'd you do?"

Dean still believed he was justified, but telling her made him anxious. He hid his anxiousness underneath a strong, sure tone and tried to shrug it off so that he didn't look guilty. "I killed a monster he used to be friends with, a monster with a cute face and long legs and boobs. He didn't see what I did—that she was dangerous. So I had to do what he couldn't. And uh… he couldn't handle it when he found out." Alex didn't look convinced. Maybe she could see through him past his claims and to his conflicted emotions. "Don't look at me like that," he said defensively. "I did the job. He'll get over it."

Alex's attitude was horrible. "You sound like Dad." The way she said it was obviously meant to hurt and cut.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asked, voice rising in pitch defensively.

"Just what I said," she replied in an almost snap. She was getting more and more riled up again. Her body language was closed off and irritable, her expression was foul, her patience seemed non-existent. Her leg was bouncing so fast it was practically vibrating. One of her fingers nervously scratched a single spot on the back of her neck for no apparent reason.

Dean was at his wit's end with how this visit was going. "Look, do you not want me here, or—?"

Alex shoved herself from the bench abruptly, looking extremely fidgety and ready for him to be gone. "You know, it was nice to see you, but your girlfriend is probably waiting for you, so…"

The very negative way she mentioned Jamie definitely surprised Dean. "Okay, whoa." He stood up too. "What's with the attitude?"

Alex rolled her eyes and turned, began to walk away. "Oh don't tell me I have an attitude."

"Well then what are you being like that for?!" Dean asked, following her as he spread his arms wide in a flabbergasted gesture.

"Don't play choir boy," Alex muttered. "You know exactly what you did."

Dean moved to stand in front of her and stop her from walking. "I'm sorry, okay?" She looked at him warningly, trying to decide if she was gonna push him out of her way or not. For a second, she heard him out, and Dean meant the apology that poured out: "I shouldn't have read your file. I'm sorry. I made a mistake." He was practically begging now. "I get that. I wish I hadn't. Geez, how many times do I have to say it?" He was speechless for a second at how unforgiving she was. "Can we just please be okay? It's bad enough Sam's so mad at me."

Almost patronizing, Alex set her brother with a look that asked really? She wasn't quite as scornful as before though. "Are you seriously gonna act like it's my fault I'm mad at you?" she asked, then sighed as if she were worn out all over again. "Don't be stupid. Apologize to Sam and stop acting like you're the boss of my life. Then maybe we'll talk." She moved past him, brushing past his shoulder with hers. Dean followed yet again.

"Al, come on, this is nuts!" he protested, hot on her heels. And then he was suddenly face-to-face with some young kid with unruly curly hair and a hoodie. He had to come up short not to run smack into the guy, who'd darted into Dean's path from where he'd been skulking nearby.

"Um, sorry, excuse me sir," the guy said, obviously nervous about what he was doing. And just who the hell was this? Some dude with a baby face who Dean hadn't ever seen before—he was short and practically half Dean's size, and it looked like he had a bad case of the scared-shitless. But, he was also not backing down from Dean's intimidating frown. "Sorry but um, uh—are you bothering her?"

Dean's eyebrows rose. Alex had stopped retreating and had drifted back a couple steps, wary of a fight. The curly-headed kid kept talking. He had a high voice and an extremely awkward, fast, nervous cadence. "Because she, uh, she asked you to leave. I think." He fumbled onward and onward, seeming to embarrass himself in his attempts to clarify. "I overheard. Because I was nearby. Not because I was like eavesdropping or something. And it was—uh—you're, you're really incredibly and intimidatingly loud, so I couldn't help but hear." His face was turning slightly red and he huffed in nerve-wracked self-consciousness then drew himself up a little and puffed out his barely-there chest. "Just uh… my point is, if you're bothering her or something to that effect, you should stop."

Dean glanced over this guy's shoulder at Alex, who looked slightly surprised and mildly touched at what was happening. Dean abruptly wondered… was this guy the guy who had been mentioned in Alex's file? What was his name? Zap? Tag? Kip?

Huh. Immediately suspicious but also taking the aggressive frown down a notch, Dean stuck his hand out for a shake. "Dean," he introduced himself, waiting for the guy to take his hand. He definitely had an ulterior motive for this. Mophead looked at his hand suspiciously, so Dean elaborated thinly. "I'm Alex's big brother."

"Oh." The kid looked like he suddenly got it, then he looked more and more embarrassed by the second. "Well in that case…" a silly little dorky grin broke his mortified face. "Oops. Heh." He took Dean's hand and shook it. He was a dodgy little guy, he radiated uncertainty. "Pleasure to meet you, Dean."

Dean studied this guy closely with narrowed eyes. Already, he didn't like him. He crushed his hand a little tighter and wouldn't let go. "Yeah, such a pleasure," he wisecracked sarcastically as his crushing grip made the kid flinch and try to pull away. Dean didn't let go until he'd made a good just-in-case threat. He leaned in, smiling falsely the whole time—he needed to let this guy know Alex had guys looking out for her and that there would be consequences if there was ever anything shady. "And just so we're good here, I should let you know I own multiple shotguns."

Alex made a face like she was thinking he had to be kidding her and she came up to the two men quickly. "Dean." She pulled Dean's hand away by the wrist briskly, freeing her friend from Dean's death grip. She gave her brother an irritated glance then addressed her friend. "He's joking, Zip."

Dean smiled and maintained eye contact with mophead, but his smile was a threat. "I am not joking," he said pleasantly. "Multiple shotguns. And I never miss."

Zip held his hand to himself, cradling it almost, trying to hide his intimidated confusion. "Uh—okay…?" He tried to laugh it off but he looked really unsure of how to respond. "That's… good for you. Heh." He chanced a timid, nervous smile, glancing sidelong at Alex several times for cues or something. "Threats of bodily harm aside, I um, don't own any shotguns. Duck Hunt, though. The Nintendo game. From like the eighties. It had this little plastic gun thing… yeah. Super cool." Realizing he was sounding dumber and dumber, Zip rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously and tried to look really serious instead of overly eager. "Anyway."

Dean was looking at him with needle-sharp eyes. Jumpy, nervous, awkward, dorky, shifty… he didn't like those things in this guy, he didn't know how far off his rocker this idiot was, he didn't trust guys who had special interest in his sister. He was done trying to please people today, so he didn't care if he pissed off Alex with what he asked this Zip character next. "So what kinda crazy you got, kid?"

As predicted, Alex looked positively pissed at the rude question. "Dean."

"Relax, I'm just tryin' to get to know this guy," Dean retorted, leaving no room for arguments.

Zip smiled willingly. "It's okay," he said, looking at her and then at Dean. He shoved his hands into his jean pockets and shrugged, his expression open and earnest. "I'm an open book."

"Yeah?" Dean challenged. Everything was making him mad today. He crossed his arms. "So for starters, what the hell kinda name's Zip?"

Zip looked mildly offended, but was incredibly polite despite his misgivings. "Wh—my real name's Kyle, but Zip is like, you know, my cool nickname."

"Yeah, you're a real mover and shaker, aren't you?" Dean asked sarcastically.

Zip looked faintly hurt. "Are you always this obscenely friendly?" he asked, then cracked a sheepish little grin. "Must run in the family." He glanced at Alex fondly and she obviously knew he was talking about her, but instead of being pissed, she hid a smile and looked down coquettishly. Dean gaped unhappily. Was he watching flirting right now or…? Zip took in Dean's indignant expression. "Relax, dude," he said. "Take a chill pill. And hey—I can get you one. We have those here." His awkward timing and hopeful little expression made Dean want to punch him. Zip's smile faltered mightily at the oldest Winchester's death stare. "…That was a joke."

"Good one, chuckles," Dean muttered rudely. He didn't like this guy at all. He didn't want Alex around some mentally unstable moron who was obviously crushing on her. He didn't like this at all. Dean had another thought that sort of surprised him: It was too soon after Cas for Alex to be moving on. Was this some kind of rebound? If so, why would she go for some skinny little weirdo in need of a haircut and social skills?

At Dean's comment, Alex had apparently had enough. "Go inside, Zip. Lemme say bye to my dumbass brother."

Zip looked hesitant to do what had been asked of him, but deferred to Alex's request with a nod and then a brief, wary glance at Dean. "Yeah… okay. See you inside."

He walked off with a few backward glances at the brother and sister. "Well don't you have that puppy trained well," Dean muttered dryly.

Alex was quickly disgruntled. "Would it kill you to be fucking polite?" she asked, bad attitude was back with a vengeance.

"I don't like him," Dean said bluntly. He glanced at Zip, who was disappearing into the building with a final worried backward glance.

Alex looked so annoyed. "You don't like anyone," she complained, then threw out a hand in exasperation. "He's frickin' harmless. You're paranoid."

Dean sobered a little, looked at her meaningfully. "Not like I don't have good reasons."

His meaning wasn't lost on her and the harsh exterior wavered for a second. "Trust me, I watch my back these days," she said quietly. Then, appearing self-conscious, she steeled herself again and continued to speak to him in a hard, straightforward voice. "Look. Whatever. You need to go. Visiting hours are about to be over."

"Don't be mad at me," Dean said, setting his pride aside as he recognized that she was done talking to him and he couldn't do a thing about it. "I'm just trying t—to look out for you."

Her eyes were angry, bitter, foreboding, and hostile. "Well don't."

And that was it. She walked off, he let her, and Dean left that place obscenely depressed about how it had gone. Depression turned into anger. And after an hour or two of tense silence, he picked a stupid fight with Jamie, said things he didn't need to say, ran her off, then got drunk alone in some motel room.

Alex went back into Sunny Meadows at the point of tears because she was so upset.

"Are you okay?" Zip would ask as she brushed past him in the hall roughly.

"Leave me alone," she would snap in reply.

She shut herself into her little blank, lifeless room and took Oxy from her hidden stash to try and forget the sadness. But when night came and she couldn't sleep and the idea of being alone and living forever came across her all over again, she cried for hours. She beat her pillow and broke her bed and then sat on the floor like a child having a temper tantrum. She didn't want anyone to know her pain and now Dean did, or at least part of it. She wasn't even sure what was in her file as she didn't remember what she'd said in therapy half the time. Around three in the morning, she went and broke into the doctor's office and found her file to see what Dean had discovered. When she read what he had, she wanted to wither up and die. All of that was so private and Dean had no business reading it. None.

Alex was left to feel terrified, alone, and out of control. She just needed someone or something to tell her it was all gonna be okay. But part of her knew it never would be. Her life wasn't what it used to be and she didn't know how to navigate these waters. So instead she drowned.

When Zip found her sitting on the floor in the doctor's office (he wandered the halls too, more than she did maybe), when he asked what was wrong and showed nothing but concern, she broke down and confided in him about how mad she was at Dean and what had happened with the file. He sat on the floor beside her and touched her hand and said it was gonna be okay. That she was more than a bunch of words on paper, that she was more than the bad things that had happened to her. He put an arm around her. And the way he looked at her reminded her of how Cas used to look at her and out of loneliness, out of desperation, she wanted to kiss him for a brief moment. He saw that—got nervous and brave—and very slowly leaned his face closer, watching her with bated breath the entire time. And at the last second, Alex turned her head away as her heart beat into the top of her throat.

Blue eyes and a once-in-a-lifetime love story haunted her every waking moment. And she couldn't.

Colorado

It was a Saturday in late February and Emmanuel was at the local farmers market with Daphne. Although the weather was still chilly this time of year, a lot of people in the community still came out to buy produce and handmade goods like jams, pies, ceramics, and artwork. It was a pleasant, interesting place to be.

Emmanuel had the sleeves of his fleece zip-up pushed up to his forearms as he added more potatoes to the little bin in Daphne's stand. Emmanuel glanced down at his hands as he sorted the potatoes and made sure they were arranged neatly. On his left hand, a silver wedding band gleamed back up at him and he paused, his good mood fading a little. Nearby, he could hear Daphne talking to a friend. "Have you met my husband?" she was asking. "His name is Emmanuel. He's right over there!"

Knowing he was expected to respond, Emmanuel looked up and raised a hand in a brief, polite wave. The woman Daphne was standing with looked mildly perplexed and uncertain but nodded kindly and smiled obligingly. Returning to his work, Emmanuel tried not to feel constantly unsettled.

They were married. Or that's what Daphne said, anyway. There had been no ceremony, no exchange of vows. Simply her giving him this ring one day after a very long talk full of leading questions about his beliefs on fate and love and marriage. She said that marriage was in the heart and that you were married to the person you were supposed to be married to since the dawn of time, that ceremonies were a waste of time, that she wanted to call him her husband because he was. He didn't completely understand, but after so long of no memories, Emmanuel had resigned himself to this life. And if being 'married' made her happy and pleased her, he supposed he owed it to her. They had still not been physically intimate, though. She had tried a couple more times to persuade him but each time Emmanuel had refused. He didn't think he would ever want her in that way. Emmanuel was content to let her call him husband and he even referred to her as wife (it made her so very happy), but in his heart, he didn't quite believe it and often felt ashamed of himself for accepting the title of husband.

He still laid with her in bed most nights, but he dreaded it. He often created excuses to be late getting to bed or not go to bed at all. He got books from the library on carpentry and he found things to fix around the house. He also learned how to browse the internet and found plans to build a better greenhouse for her and he spent many long hours working on that. He also went to local hospitals on foot, sometimes walking hours to get to his destination. There, he used his healing powers to perform miracles and wonders. The sick were well, the lame walked, a blind girl was given sight, and his favorite one, the one he would always remember, he healed a newborn baby girl born without functional vocal chords. The look on her parents' faces when she had squalled loud and strong for the first time… he treasured these things.

Daphne doted on him, adored him, practically worshiped him—she was very rarely displeased with him. People came from nearby churches to be healed and she took him on a couple road trips to revivals that were a few hundred miles away. One of these revivals had been in Montana. What happened the night before the revival had been inexplicable. Emmanuel he had been in the motel with Daphne in bed as she slept and he had felt such pain that it consumed him. He could focus on nothing else but that sense of pain. And then, suddenly, he was standing in the lawn of a place called Sunny Meadows. Disoriented and frightened to be instantaneously transported from one place to another, Emmanuel thought perhaps God had sent him here for a reason, that the pain had led him here. He cautiously approached the place and peered in the first window he passed. He saw a small, stark bedroom. Someone, a girl he thought, was sitting up in bed with her back turned to him. She had long, messy brown hair, and he was given pause. He didn't know why women with brown hair always caught his eye and made him feel so much. He raised a hand to knock on her window, because something was compelling him to get her to notice him.

And then, his phone buzzed in his pocket and Emmanuel was startled and quickly retreated, answering Daphne's worried call. She had to drive and come get him, and he was an hour away from where he'd been. Emmanuel left the grounds of Sunny Meadows, unsure why he felt so strangely. He wanted to escape from there, almost. He couldn't handle the pain he sensed from the inside of that building. It was too much.

Other than that strange occurrence, Emmanuel's life had become predictable and he was accepting it slowly, always trying to brush his misgivings to the side. He focused on the tasks he could accomplish and the heavenly powers he had been entrusted with. And the potatoes he was tidying. There was a certain pleasing quality to order. A calmness he latched onto.

At that moment, a little blur ran past, followed quickly by a mother with a baby on her hip. "Alex!"

Emmanuel looked up immediately, deeply startled. A young boy was splashing in mud puddles nearby and laughing happily. Some of the mud splashed onto the khaki pants Emmanuel wore. "Alex, Alexander, stop that!" the mother chided. Emmanuel stared at her as if stricken dumb, he watched her shift her baby on her hip and grab her older son by the wrist. She appeared frazzled and overwhelmed and smiled apologetically at Emmanuel. "So sorry, sir," she said in embarrassment, noticing the mud that had gotten onto his pants. "We're working on paying attention to others."

Emmanuel had trouble replying. "It's… it's all right," he faltered. The woman was already bustling off, pulling her son named Alex by the hand and scolding him.

"Emmanuel, what is it?"

In a fog, he turned to see that Daphne was there, peering at him in concern. He was vastly confused. Right there, right there in his reach was the answer he needed, but he couldn't find it and the feeling was utterly maddening, sickening even. "I… I don't feel well," he said, and she fussed over him, got him a chair, felt his forehead, then fetched him some water. He was mostly oblivious to her attention. He just sat there for the rest of the farmers market hours, trying to understand what had triggered him and incited that reaction.

Cupcakes. Yellow flowers. Black cars from the decades past. Children's board games. Women with brown hair. The name Alex.

When would these things finally make sense?

Perhaps they never would. Perhaps he would be forever haunted by this handful of things from the life he had lived before.

Perhaps Daphne was right. Maybe he should stop looking for answers altogether.

Two Weeks Later

"So, how's my girl, hmm?"

Bobby sat with Alex in the cafeteria of Sunny Meadows. It wasn't lunch time, so they were alone. He'd shown up for an impromptu visit and after a little awkward small talk, it was about to get heavy. Alex could sense it. His question didn't have a good answer, so she tried joking around even though she was, as usual, severely depressed.

"Mentally unstable. Socially unacceptable. The usual."

Bobby peered at her from under the worn out brim of his old ball cap. His careworn eyes seemed to see everything in a gentle, non-intimidating way. "How 'bout lonely? Scared? Sad?" he challenged softly, hitting the nail right on the head. Alex looked down and away, trying not to show her true feelings. Bobby remained steadfast. "It's okay to feel however you're feelin' right now. After all you been through, who wouldn't be a little beat up on the inside?"

It was so much worse than that. "I'm not beat up," she managed in a wavering voice, looking at the scuffed table instead of him. "I don't know how to function anymore."

Full of empathy, he nodded pained understanding. That was the thing about Bobby Singer. He'd never told Alex her feelings were wrong and he didn't shove opinions down her throat when she was sad. He'd always listened and accepted her sadness, he didn't obsess over 'fixing' her and he never took her grief personally. She loved him a whole hell of a lot for that. But even though she loved him, he wasn't the world's most accessible person and neither was she. They were half-open books around each other—he was a gruff man of few words, she was… well, she didn't know what she was anymore. She was definitely feeling humiliated and low right now though for him to see her giving up and wasting away at Sunny Meadows. He was still hanging in there and horrible shit had happened to him. What was her excuse? Alex felt second-best and stupid. She didn't like being visited in here by people she knew because it was another reminder of how far she'd fallen.

Bobby was studying her in that silent, caring way he had. He was rough around the edges, but through the years, he'd had lots of moments with Alex that showed what a huge heart he had underneath his tough exterior. "Now you listen up," he said quietly, firmly, and his tone was specifically fatherly. "I never said too much to you about nothin' 'cause, well… you know me. I aim to stay away from sticky stuff like feelins and talkin' about 'em. I'd rather eat nails on toast for breakfast most days." That got the smallest little smile from Alex, and her attention. Her eyes flickered up to his. Today, he seemed to have decided to go there, to open up a little. "Normally, I wouldn't say much about your private affairs," he continued. "But I think you need to hear this." Alex began to dread what he was about to say because of how serious he was. "What happened with Cas… that ain't on you and never will be."

His words brought up a thousand pains instantly and she couldn't accept his words even for a second. She shook her head no, insulted almost. She didn't need anyone to try and baby her. "It is on me," she said, then made a very real confession: "I… I don't know how to let it go." Alex felt herself breaking down, the walls weren't working. And while with Sam she'd played Sunny Meadows off, with Dean she'd ripped him a new one, with Bobby, she was left with no choice but to be honest with him and herself. "This is so embarrassing," she whispered, glancing around at the interior of Sunny Meadows. It felt like her final resting place. Like she'd already died and she was a useless ghost. "I hate it. Like… what's wrong with me, you know?"

"Hey now," he reprimanded gently. "Quit that. Ain't nothin' wrong with you. Quite frankly I'm surprised you've hung in as long as you have. The crap I seen you shoulder…" he sighed. He'd walked with her through a lot of grief before. He'd been there for her in some of her darkest times. "We all got our limits," he said, and she knew that rang true for him, too. "Give it some time. You'll get through this."

It was nice of him to say that. But the part that made her tear up and crumble was he was wrong. "You don't understand, Bobby," she appealed, getting more and more upset. "I got nothing left. I'm all outta fight. I wanted something. A good life. And now I barely know how to get out of bed." She bowed her head into her hand, miserable forevermore and fighting tears. "I can't even comprehend everything that happened to me, my family. Life was okay and then Cas…" she trailed off, crying for real now, remembering a first kiss, a gentle embrace, a love like no other, a horrible twisted ending she never predicted. "I never had something so good happen, you know? I t-thought it could last, I loved him with everything, I didn't hold a-anything back. Mistake number one. I was all in, and it crashed and burned so fucking bad and now… I just…" she wiped at her face, trying to toughen up and stop crying over what could never change. She sniffed valiantly, trying to pull herself together. "I'm done with getting hurt and losing people. I'm done with trying to help and making messes instead, I'm tired of being the screw up. I've always dragged my brothers down, I've always been in the way, and I… I just can't do it anymore."

Bobby looked utterly confounded, even a little insulted, and he took a second then shook his head as his mouth drew into a flat line and his eyes narrowed. "Your damn dad put that idea in your head, didn't he?" Bobby's sudden righteous anger made him pointed and firm, a little louder than before. "Well I am here to say that you and your brothers made me a better man and none'a ya were a burden, especially you. I look at you and see the daughter I never had and you know what? I didn't need a little girl. I had you, and no one else could compare, ever! You even know how much better you three made my life? You were a damn joy, nothin' else—not a burden, not an inconvenience, not a responsibility, not somethin' I dreaded. So don't talk to me and tell me you're some kinda failure, 'cause way I see it, you're someone worth havin' around and always have been. You hear me?"

Touched, Alex couldn't find it in herself to do anything but nod yes sir with eyes full of emotion. It was hard and sort of awkward, but she made herself say it after a few seconds of quiet: "I really do love you, Bobby." Her voice was affected and emotional and she was having problems looking him straight in the eye. But she meant it so much. "Don't know where I'd be without you."

He cleared his throat and blinked away something he might blame on allergies if she asked him about it. He was soft again, reminiscent. "Yeah, yeah, love you too, shortstop," he said, smiling crookedly from under his beard and adjusting his cap then checking his watch with a weary sigh. "All right, enough've the Oprah hour. I'd stay, but I got Leviathan to kill." He set her with a slightly mischievous look. "You sure you don't wanna come with?"

Alex poked fun at herself again as she dabbed at the corner of an eye. "Think I'll stay here and wallow."

Bobby nodded understanding but gave her a knowing, reassuring little smile. "You're gonna decide one day you've had enough of this. And I'll be waitin'. Don't say nobody never believed in you. You always got me, girl, you hear?"

"I hear."

Bobby nodded satisfaction and stood up, his chair scraping noisily across the floor. Alex stood too. "Now lemme kiss your head and go on. Burnin' daylight." He came around the table and did what he said he was going to: he put an arm around her and kissed her head, jostling her by the shoulder very roughly and briefly. All Alex could think about was how Dad had never done half of what Bobby had done for her. She hugged her uncle briefly, shutting her eyes. His smell—aftershave and mothballs and a faint touch of whiskey—brought back childhood. And he was one of the best parts of those memories. He pulled back and patted her on the shoulder awkwardly. "You change your mind, I wouldn't mind havin' you ride shotgun again. You know my number."

Alex managed a smile for him. "Maybe later, Bobby."

But there wouldn't be a later.

When Bobby left, Zip appeared out from behind a corner and asked, "was that your dad?"

Alex watched him walk out of the doors of Sunny Meadows. Bobby Singer: cantankerous old man in flannel who had owned a scrap metal and mechanic business for a good portion of his life. Wise, intelligent beyond belief, resourceful. Kind, quiet, and pretty unremarkable at a glance, but in the end, a hero in every right. Alex nodded, eyes on Bobby the whole time as she realized the answer to Zip's question. "Yeah," she said softly. "That's my dad."

Two weeks later, Jamie showed up at an ungodly hour and made an announcement that Alex would never forget: "It's Bobby. We gotta go. Now."

And the world would crash to pieces all over again.