Song Remains the Same
Chapter 143 / O Brother Where Art Thou
"My ship isn't coming and I just can't pretend."
— Rush
Being the dead night, all was relatively quiet in the bunker. In the corner of the library that was slowly evolving into a living room type of arrangement, the old TV set was still on. The movie playing washed the dim space with flickering light as low audio droned. Two people sprawled on the long upholstered couch, each with their similar brunette heads resting on the opposite end as four shoe-clad feet piled up in a sleepy tangle at the midsection.
Sam had dozed off hours ago, but Alex was still wide awake. The pregnancy insomnia she'd read about had hit her out of the blue two days ago, and baby boy was on day three of wiggling around in utero for hours on end (mostly at night). It felt like all of her organs were being rearranged as he somersaulted, kicked, and squirmed around with so much gusto it was like he was at a rave. Adding to that the consistent Braxton Hicks contractions, and Alex was resigned to long days and nights of feeling exhausted and being irritable. But the tiredness wasn't the only reason for her increasingly low mood.
It had been eight days since she'd seen Cas in person.
Nine days since hearing from Dean whatsoever.
And there were between sixty or so days left until this baby was born (by her best calculations).
Those stressful numbers left a constant prayer on her mind and heart: Please hurry back, Cas. And always following that silent plea was this one: Dean, where are you?
Alex shifted down, trying to find something a little more comfortable as her hands went where they so often did: to the rounded taut belly that was definitely noticeable at this point. Staring blankly at the all too familiar scenes of the 1986 movie Big Trouble in Little China, Alex unavoidably found herself ruminating over the absence of her oldest brother. It was probably the pregnancy hormones, but Alex had found herself given over to constant nostalgia and reflection… and Dean was of course one of the centermost points of that wistfulness. After all, he was her childhood—him and Sam, Dad, the car, shitty motels, the wide open road—all foundational characters who made up the fabric of her biography. The only one of those characters present right now was Sam. And Alex ached.
"We really shook the pillars of heaven, didn't we, Wang?"
"No horseshit, Jack."
"No horseshit."
This movie in all of its campy, stupid glory was one of Dean's favorites. And Alex's sore, tired eyes blinked against abrupt tears as she pined deeply for her best friend. Not just for his presence, but for the way things used to be.
The fire of anger had faded in the time since Dean's volatile exit. Now, grief was the dominant emotion—and it was so heavy Alex sometimes thought she'd be crushed underneath the weight. There was something like homesickness in the deepest cavern of her chest, and nothing made it better. Every day that passed, the feeling intensified, taking her by surprise at how often it crept up out of nowhere. But after all, everywhere she looked, there were reminders of her vanished brother: his deserted room across the hall, the missing Impala, his belongings scattered throughout the bunker. She saw every empty space that he should have been in and heard every lonely silence in conversations that his insightful wisecrack or dry, inappropriate joke should have filled. Even the sight of Sam by himself with no shorter brawnier brother standing in contrast was painful at times.
Alex had been without Dean before, of course. But never quite like this.
It was hypocritical to feel how she did, because she and Sam had basically told him to get lost and stay gone. But the fact that he actually was staying gone… well, it felt wrong to say the least. Dean wasn't one to respect boundaries, especially when it came to family. He did what he wanted and what he thought was best, not what others asked him to do. So it didn't fit, and left Alex surprisingly uneasy and theorizing madly. Did he really, actually think he shouldn't be with his family? Had some invisible frayed thread finally snapped beyond repair here nine days ago when they told him to scram? Alex couldn't fathom that being the case, so her mind went into more foul directions: Was he even okay? Had something bad happened to him?
Adding to that theory of something bad happening, she knew from talking to Cas that Jamie had been healed a few days ago—which meant she and Dean weren't just holed up at some hospital playing the waiting game anymore. So why hadn't Dean made any kind of contact? Where was he? Alex felt all kinds of jilted and abandoned. By him and by Dad.
Every single day she wondered why she was just sitting around waiting instead of out there tracking him down and dragging him back in even if he didn't want it. Every day, she got closer to doing just that—increasingly pregnant or not, dangerous out there or not. This was Dean, and unforgivable actions or not, he couldn't stay gone forever. He just couldn't.
Alex's eyes traveled to her twin's peaceful sleeping face, and some of the pain knotting in her chest softened away at his comforting, purposeful closeness. He could have gone to his room forever ago, but had obviously sensed she wanted company. And hell, maybe he'd needed company too. She nudged softly at his foot with hers—not to wake him up, just to wordlessly convey a little bit of the love and gratitude she felt.
The two of them hadn't really talked too much about Dean. But they didn't have to. It was obvious they were both in the same painful place over their absent brother. They hadn't talked about Dad either—instead they'd kept their heads down and seen to whatever tasks they could. Alex had spent a day or so unpacking all the stuff Sam hauled over from her and Cas's old apartment, making her room a little more homey and parts of the bunker too. The next day Sam had taken Linda with him shopping 'for groceries' then had reappeared hours later with the promised groceries plus all manner of baby things—surprising Alex with a crib and all its accessories, a dresser/changing table combination, a comfy rocking chair, and a baby monitor. He and Bobby spent the better part of a day confusing themselves assembling 'those durn deathtraps' (Bobby's words) as Linda had bustled around and supervised assembly while offering up anecdotal stories about Kevin as a baby and the lessons she'd learned as a mom. Overall, the fuss and special attention was kind of embarrassing to Alex, who preferred not to have much of a spotlight. But… if it was for her baby boy, she guessed it wasn't all bad.
Linda had come around to Alex after learning a little more about her initial hostility and mistrust toward Kyle. Despite that, she still spoke up for Kyle daily, urging Alex to change her mind about holding him hostage, insisting that he was a good person who deserved a second chance. As a result, Alex found herself genuinely considering it. It was easy to like Mrs. Tran—she was practical, reasonable, stubborn, incredibly intelligent, tough as nails, and incredibly warm. She fit in easily to the daily grind of bunker life, could hold her own, proved herself useful and intuitive to the needs of the group immediately, and asked Alex for gun lessons the day after she and Sam went shopping. Turns out she was quite the natural crack shot, and was teaching Kevin what she'd learned after just a couple days of target practice. There was a motherly and tenacious quality to her that Alex found herself appreciating and even looking up to, as unexpected as that was.
A couple of times as the group of five—Sam, Alex, Bobby, Kevin, and Linda—shared dinners at the long table, Alex had found herself looking around and thinking this feels like a family. Quickly after, she'd remember the missing members, the high stakes, the angel problem—and the rosy glowing feeling would die off and leave her feeling guilty for even letting such a thought enter her mind.
But at least things were feeling more stable around here, and it did feel like some progress was being made, so she tried to stay optimistic on that front. The 'hunter's normal' as Sam called it was returning: Bobby had headed out for a brief job with goofy old Garth somewhere a few cities over a couple days ago, and Kevin was back at work translating rocks with his mom doting over him and assisting him where she could. Sam and Alex did what they could remotely to help Bobby, and started to take inventory of everything in the bunker and explore the nooks, crannies, rooms, and resources they hadn't gotten around to yet.
Lurking like a dark secret, Kyle was still sequestered in a locked basement room. Initially he'd been chained in place there, but after Kevin had begged and Linda had persuaded, Alex had relented a few days into the arrangement and allowed Kyle to be imprisoned behind a locked door only—no chains or cuffs. She still wasn't sure where this imprisonment was even going longterm, and it made her antsy. It didn't feel right to have him down there like that, but what was she supposed to do? Set him free and surely have him lurking around like a sad puppy? Making it worse was Kyle's humble, accepting attitude she always saw when she was the one who had to take him food or drop off supplies. Linda and Kevin obviously both viewed him as a friend, and Alex remembered when he'd been her friend too, in a life that felt forever ago. Sam made an offhand comment one night to Alex privately about how there seemed to be more than friendship going on when it came to Kevin and Kyle, and since then, Alex had been watching a little closer in curious light.
Word from Cas was regular in both dreams and phonecalls, and he was finally finding angelic allies. Apparently an angel who fought with him during the war against Raphael had re-emerged and had taken leadership of one of the largest angel factions forming in Wichita. His name was Bartholomew, and Cas had found a way to go meet with him in person last they'd spoke yesterday. Overall, Cas seemed to be making strides and not running into much trouble, which set Alex at ease a little more. Interactions with him were frequent enough that it didn't feel like he was impossibly far away, but she of course missed him. Just not in quite the way she was missing and fretting over her oldest brother.
Sighing softly, Alex shut her eyes as she shifted around again. Baby boy had settled down finally, and she was getting drowsy enough that she thought maybe she could finally fall asleep. And then a few little nudges in her central abdomen caused Alex to moan a soft protest and shake her head as her eyes opened back up. "Why won't you let your mother sleep?" she complained jokingly in quiet, frazzled affection as she pressed a hand to where the movement was coming from. A strong kick against her hand was her answer, and love encircled her weary heart once more.
And then there was a sudden, urgent pounding at the bunker door. Heart flying into her throat, Alex bolted to sit even as Sam woke up and reacted similarly, clutching his hands into the couch and looking around with bleary, alarmed eyes, his body tensed. The pounding stopped, and ominous silence commenced. The twins looked at each other with wide, uncertain gazes.
"…Is that Bobby?" Sam whispered hoarsely.
"…Why would Bobby be banging like that?" Alex whispered back, her pulse racing.
More insistent banging sounded, startling them both anew. The Winchesters were both quick to glance at each other then do what they'd been doing their whole lives: take action against the unknown. Sam was already jumping up, handing Alex her pistol off the table in tandem with grabbing his sawed off shotgun. He gave a brusque nod. Firearm held close, Alex was already on the move.
Silent and quick, they stole through the dark library, the dim control room, and then up the metal stairs. There they pressed against either side of the door with weapons ready. Sam signaled the 'I'll look' and quickly craned himself to peer out the peephole. His body language changed immediately, and caught off guard, he drew back from the door with a confused expression. "…It's Jamie."
Alex's tense features melted as sudden hope skyrocketed—did that mean Dean, too? Sam was already unlocking and swinging open the creaking metal door. "Wait, how do you know it's really her?!" Alex hissed, but it was too late. Then she saw what Sam had seen, and was equally taken back.
It was indeed Jamie—had to be—and she looked really rough—like she hadn't slept or showered in days. But it wasn't her unkempt ponytail, grungy clothing, or desperate expression that had the twins gaping. Cradled protectively against her chest was a sleeping, blonde-haired baby wearing pink. A bit breathlessly, Sam managed a surprised greeting first. "Hey!" Alex spotted the Impala's familiar outline nearby—and it was empty. Agape, Alex looked at Jamie and then the baby in absolute mystification even as Sam asked what she was wondering: "…Whose baby is that?"
But of course, both he and his sister already had a theory. They just didn't know howit was possible.
The witch had the look of someone at her absolute wit's end, someone who had been running for a long time and was close to collapse. "Mine," she answered in a distressed croak.
Alex's throat felt closed—taking a deep breath was impossible. "…Where's Dean?" Her voice was barely a whisper.
Jamie swallowed deeply, her expression every bit as pinched and upset as Alex's. "Can I come in, please?"
At the long table central to the command center, Jamie sat and held baby Rose close as Sam sat across from her, leaning onto the table with focus. Nearby, a very worried, agitated Alex paced. Her mind was spinning from everything Jamie had just told them.
"Okay, I'm sorry, this is a lot to take in all at the same time," Sam managed, similarly bowled over by everything—Rose's existence, Jamie's attempt to keep her and Dean's daughter safe from the paranormal through adoption and secrecy, Abaddon kidnapping the baby, Dean and the Mark of Cain—it was all very shocking to say the least. Sam focused in on the latter part of the story where Dean went missing: "So you're saying you saw him kill Abaddon, you passed out, came to and he had Rose, then you all went to the car, he went back in by himself to get this—this Blade thing—then he disappeared."
Jamie nodded—she'd done a good job of communicating everything, but her emotional state was visibly very fragile and distraught. "Without a trace," she confirmed uneasily, still trying to figure it out herself fifteen hours later. "And Crowley was gone too. He had to have taken Dean, that's the only thing I can figure." She shook her head, appearing faintly sickened. A hand cupped against the back of her baby's sleeping head and her eyes lost focus. "He wouldn't have left us," she murmured gauntly, puzzled and unsettled, for a moment retreating into her anxious thoughts. Then she refocused. "By the time I went up to try and find him, authorities were showing up so I had to go and I don't know anything else. I even tried a locating spell, but it didn't work." Twinges of guilt crossed her features as she regarded her boyfriend's siblings guiltily. Her voice dropped in volume. "I'd be out there tearing shit up to find him, I hope you know I would…" she trailed off, gaze dropping to take in her small daughter who slept peacefully in her arms.
"No, no—" Sam hurried to assure. "We get it." After all, there wasn't a safe way to go after a demon with a frickin' baby in tow. And despite the stressful situation, a brief, bittersweet smile emerged from Sam's gaunt face as he looked at the baby girl his brother had fathered. "She's beautiful, Jamie," Sam murmured, still a bit in disbelief about it. "I'm really glad you found her."
Sam got a similar sort of smile—pained and brief—in return. "Me too." Jamie's expression fell and struggled, threatening to break down completely as her regret surged. "It just feels so wrong to not be out there trying to get him back," she rasped, probably blaming herself for what had happened.
That prompted Alex to speak up for the first time in a couple minutes, decisive to the point that her voice almost shook with the purpose and determination she felt. "You don't have to worry." Jamie's hurt blue eyes looked at Alex's in a mix of hope and pleading. "We're gonna go find him," Alex vowed, leaving zero room for any alternative.
A slightly surprised look came her way from her twin at the declaration. But then the flicker of surprise quickly changed to something soft and agreeable. Because of course they were. "Yeah. Yeah we are," he said, looking at Jamie with eyes that had a new grit in them.
Relieved, Jamie's face softened and the glint of tears took on a grateful quality instead of a panicked one. She hesitated, first studying Alex and then Sam with a faintly apprehensive quality. "He said a few things like… that made it sound like you three were on the rocks."
Sam and Alex traded a hooded, remorseful glance. Then there was a wan expression as Sam attempted to put everything into neutral terms. "A lot went down since you died."
James nodded automatically, her weary eyes glazing over. "And I wanna know everything but… I'm sorry." She was at the point of exhaustion where she looked ready to fall over or cry. "I'm just so tired."
And of course she was. From what she'd relayed, she hadn't slept in a day or two while searching desperately for her daughter, then had driven herself and her baby fifteen hours here with frequent feeding and changing stops. The whole time with no way to contact Sam or Alex, no idea where Dean had gone, no clue if anyone would be here, not sure if they'd let her in, and with a sudden daughter she'd never cared for before. No wonder she looked slightly insane with stress right now.
Even though Alex was quite sure no one could ever worry over her brother the way she could, she softened, momentarily relenting from the obsessive concern over Dean in favor of empathy for the one in front of her. This was Jamie—who she cared deeply about and had been through the trenches with. Because of how much of a hardass Jamie was, how self-sufficient and independent and capable, Alex often forgot the truth she'd observed during their time hunting together: James had her limits and felt just as deeply as anyone else did… if not even deeper. She just chose not to show that to the world at large. Her being so vulnerable right now wasn't typical—and it was Jamie's way of communicating that she really needed help and was not okay. With baby Rose in the picture now, it hit Alex with a suddenness she hadn't expected: Jamie was family now. And she'd figure out exactly how she felt about that later—for now, she offered an understanding smile and nodded her head toward the hallway. "Come on," she murmured. "You two can stay in my room tonight. There's a crib and everything."
Intensely relieved and thankful, Jamie nodded as she stood up stiffly like she was sore, eyes flicking to Alex's clearly pregnant belly. Alex had seen her notice earlier—but this was the first time James acknowledged it. "How far along are you?" she asked, and of all things, Alex abruptly chuckled and shook her head. How weird that she and James had both found themselves in this motherhood situation in such close proximity. A thoughtful hand went to her belly as she tried to think of how to answer best. "Getting toward the middle or end, maybe," she finally said. "Kind of hard to tell with the angel-human thing."
Nodding even as her tired eyes blinked, Jamie gave her an understanding, weary smile. They had quite a lot to catch up on—just not now.
"Let's get you girls settled in," Sam said, and put a caring hand onto Jamie's back as they moved toward the hallway together.
They took Jamie to Alex's room, where she laid Rose down gently into the crib. She seemed incredibly anxious and hesitant to leave her daughter's side—so the twins stayed and watched Rose sleep peacefully in the crib as Jamie took a quick shower. Somehow, that's when it really, really hit them: This was Dean's daughter. Their niece. And in hushed tones, the brother and sister traded both disbelief and surprisingly tender emotion as they raptly studied their newfound niece and really let the news settle in. In a dreamlike state, they found things she clearly got from her dad: the same button nose, the same lips, the same chin. And while they hadn't been prepared for this plot twist—everyone originally having thought Alex was the first Winchester to become a parent—it was kind of how Sam said in a choked up voice after a couple of awestruck moments: "He was meant to be a dad."
Alex was unable to find a way to make an immediate reply—her throat squeezed up too tight with emotion. Because she and Sammy knew firsthand what kind of father Dean would be. He'd kind of been theirs in some moments, after all. Now, he had a child of his own. How did life move so fast like this? Alex reached out and gently put a tentative finger into Rose's palm, feeling a sense of amazement, responsibility, and deeply abiding love. In her sleep, Rose closed her fingers tightly around her aunt's finger, which made Alex's heart just leap. She wondered how she could love someone so much who she'd just met… and thought of her own son, who'd be here soon too. "…We gotta get him back," she finally whispered, eyes shining with amazed tears as she thought of Dean and vowed to find him and bring him back, no matter what. She and Sam weren't the only ones who needed him anymore. This little girl really did change everything.
Jamie reappeared in some of Alex's borrowed pajamas not long after and had been surprised when Alex approached, hugged her fiercely without a word, then gripped her by her upper arms and gave her a strong nod and pat. A silent reassurance that everything would somehow be okay, she hoped. Sam bid Jamie goodnight, gave her a quick hug, told her she'd meet Linda in the morning who would happily help her with whatever she needed—and then the twins left the exhausted new mom to get some sleep.
Jamie ended up crawling into the crib with Rose, close enough to hear her breathing and see the small rise and fall of her tiny chest—because after everything, she was afraid to let her daughter be out of arm's reach for even a second. Finally able to rest, Jamie shook with tears over Dean. Eventually she fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.
"Fuck!" Alex swore, and threw the chalk angrily. It went rolling and hit against Sam's shoe as his sister continued to fume at Crowley's no-show. "…I mean since when can demons even screen calls like that?!" she demanded, gesturing erratically. "I thought they had to show if you summoned them like we just did!"
A short, troubled silence followed her question… because Alex was right. And this didn't quite make sense. "I mean, he is the King of Hell…" Sam supplied uncertainly. "Maybe he can pick and choose?"
Alex crossed her arms and glowered at the detailed summons decorating the gymnasium floor. "Yeah well for being a supposed 'King,' he was sure looking like a huge pile of pathetic garbage last time I saw him," she muttered resentfully, then jammed an anxious hand through her hair. Right after getting Jamie squared away, they'd gotten to work summoning Crowley—all to no avail. Stumped and pissed and scared for her brother, Alex looked to Sam for guidance. "Okay, so what now?" she asked, so stressed out about Dean being Crowley's prisoner that she couldn't think straight.
Sam mulled over their options and then hesitated when he realized they had a potential ally. "Well… I know one demon who won't screen our call…"
Stopping mid motion, Alex's frown softened away. "Meg?"
Reluctant, Sam nodded. "Yeah." He sighed his distaste and ambivalence out. He obviously didn't like it. "As nuts as it is… she'll help us. And I mean, she's got connections."
A loaded silence commenced. Meg had been nothing but helpful for, what—like two years straight now. And who the hell else could feasibly help out right now other than maybe Bobby? Alex sighed in aggravation. Sam was right. "Well shit," she muttered, conceding that Meg was indeed their best current option.
"We could divide and conquer," Sam suggested tentatively. "You and I go see the hotel where Dean and Crowley disappeared from and start there, while we have Meg shake her demonic beats, see if she can get any leads."
Pondering, Alex nodded faintly as the plan came together in her mind and small hope began to grow. That actually sounded pretty solid, and she had another sudden idea. Her tone suddenly took on a burst of eagerness. "Yeah, and maybe Cas can even locate Dean in dreams—I mean, he's done it before." She lost a little enthusiasm as she continued the thought all the way to its end: "I don't think he'll be able to physically join us though, not with everything happening on the angel front."
Nodding understanding, Sam kept himself even-keeled despite his obvious stress. "Beggars can't be choosers, right?" He sighed gustily, lamenting their reality: "Man. But since when do we all work with demons like this?" It was both an ironic observation and a half-serious question. Sam and Alex from ten years ago would have absolutely never considered teaming up with Meg.
A near smirk popped up as Alex's smartass side made an appearance. "I mean, you pretty much started that trend back in the day," she trolled, thinking of Ruby.
Sam's eyebrows rose and a self-conscious, caught out little grin popped up because hell—she was right. "Touché," he admitted, shaking his head and even chuckling a little bit. They'd all worked with demons in some capacity by now: Sam, Dean, Alex—even Cas.
"It's a rite of passage at this point," Alex joked wryly, because that was all there was left to do: laugh about it and sigh. Sam laughed and cringed at the same time uncomfortably, and Alex started to think about a more serious topic. A question she needed to gather some courage to ask. All this talk of hitting the road had been met with no resistance at all from Sam, and Alex had to speculate as to why. "Just wondering," she began carefully, "but… are you not gonna tell me to stay behind? Aren't you gonna say it's safer for me here… that I shouldn't go?" It was par for the course, after all—one or both of her brothers telling her it was too dangerous and she had to sit this one out. And Sam knew just how high stakes this specific situation was: angels out there looking to kill her and the baby, no Castiel close by for protection.
Against her veiled, hopeful questioning gaze, Sam's eye contact held and his features took on caring, sensitive emotion. "No," he answered with quiet purpose. "I'm not gonna tell you what to do. It's your decision if you stay or go." He wet his lips and squared his shoulders, like he was making an announcement he'd been sitting on. "We do things differently in this family from here on out," he asserted firmly, having thought it through thoroughly. "No one gets to make decisions for each other, or tell each other what to do anymore." Realizing his thought process and its relation to what Dean had done to him, Alex was touched and felt immediately emotional. Sam's eyes began to shine as his eyebrows worked in together. His voice got husky. "But I mean, of course I want you safe," he said meaningfully, quickly becoming choked up and intensely heartfelt to the point of barely being able to speak with any volume at all. "Don't ever think I don't want you safe. Big brothers just wanna protect their kid siblings, you know?" Understanding dawned: he was thinking about what had motivated Dean to do what he did. And now Alex's eyes were flooding right along with Sam's. He faltered, finally letting his sister see exactly the extent of his feelings, worries, and terror: "I'm really scared for him right now, Al."
Her heart burst to hear the same worry in his voice that lived inside her heart. Wordlessly, she nodded and gently encircled her arms around his strong middle, shutting her eyes and struggling against tears when she felt his arms hold her close. "I am too," she whispered. His arms tightened around her like a clamp, and she felt how he shook.
They stayed like that for a very long moment, each one holding back from breaking down into full out crying. After a moment they were both about to find composure, they clear their throats, then draw apart. There, they gave each other a brave, encouraging nod through their misgivings and fears, then set back to work with renewed purpose on a mission to find their wayward brother.
Together they redid the summons and gathered the additional materials needed—with the final step of incantation and a match dropped into the bowl, they completed the ritual. Right on cue, Meg appeared. She looked happy to see them.
"Well, if it isn't my favorite Doublemints!" she greeted easily, grinning widely before she had a second to take in the expressions on their features. Her smile faded. "…What's with the long faces?"
Alex was the one who told her. "Crowley has Dean."
Immediately confounded, the demon's eyes flickered back and forth between the Winchesters. "…Uh, so either I need my hearing checked or you're pulling my leg." Neither of the twins said anything, and Meg scoffed her disbelief. "Crowley?" she challenged insolently. "That pathetic, blubbering crackhead blood junkie has your brother?"
It did sound unbelievable, even to them. Sam was on the brusque side. "We don't know anything else, but we're gonna need all hands on deck with this one Meg."
Her doubtful eyes slid to him. "Uh huh." She crossed her arms and looked at each in turn, narrowing her eyes in thought—and then the slightest sly smile grew. "Is it just me, or am I becoming a regular on this little Winchester show of yours?" Uncomfortable because it was true, Sam and Alex both shifted awkwardly, avoiding giving an answer—but that was answer enough and Meg put her proverbial cards on the table as she placed her hands on either hip. "Look, if I help you out—again—I want in."
That Sam and Alex had not expected.
"'In'?" Alex repeated incredulously, and now she was the one with narrowing eyes. "'In' how?"
While Meg tried to play it cool, her very real desperation was beginning to show even underneath the careful and cool exterior. "It's like I've told you over and over," she explained with put-on patience. "My rep? It's trash with my own kind. Humans don't like me either, and forget angels. I'm a lone wolf out here, and it ain't easy being all by your lonesome, kay?" She took an intentional pause in which the twins glanced at each other dubiously. "So," Meg concluded primly. "I wanna be one of the crew."
Even though they both felt speechless, each of the siblings came up with comebacks remarkably quick. Sam went first: "Well you're not getting a room in the bunker if that's what you're after."
"No matching club t-shirt either," Alex wisecracked.
Meg rolled her eyes at the jokes and poised herself in the face of her clear frustration. "Okay look: I just wanna stop being the enemy," she said with more forced patience, gritting her jaw and looking at them in turn. The look in her eye lost all false fronts, leaving behind a very vulnerable quality. "I think I've proved myself," she said, but she didn't sound sure. She sounded afraid that they'd disagree. As quickly as the mask had slipped, it was back on: She folded her arms, schooled her expression into something confident and airy, and studied the twins as they silently deliberated with merely a few terse glances. "So what'll it be?" Meg prompted, clearly believing she was about to get a 'no.' "We have a deal?"
Alex exhaled hard and gave in, because what other choice did they have? She saw it on Sam's face too: they needed to do this. Meg was asking not to be viewed as an enemy, which wasn't too unreasonable given everything that had happened recently. But—for now, Alex did have one last-minute caveat to the plan Sam had presented. "All right. But I have an ask too," she revealed. "If you say yes to it… then yeah. We have a deal." Alex found herself smirking and finding a sarcastic joke despite it all. "We can get friendship bracelets and paint each others nails. The whole nine, 'buddy.'"
Disbelieving excitement to be told yes was quickly followed by suspicion. "…What's your ask?" Meg questioned cautiously, clearly believing there was a huge catch. Beside his sister, a frowning Sam waited right along with Meg to find out the answer.
The basement of the bunker felt distinctly creepy—maybe because the lighting was dimmer down here, maybe because there were still locked doors that led to unknown places beyond. But it was definitely the most appropriate place to imprison someone.
Alex arrived to the door furthest down the hall and peered in through the bar-lined viewing slot, apprehensive. Laying on his cot looking at the ceiling with a glum expression and hands laced together across his abdomen, Kyle didn't seem to notice her arrival until she got her keys out and began to unlock the door. By the time she had opened the door to step inside, he was sitting up on the bed facing her, hands clutching nervously into the bedding on either side of himself.
She entered and said nothing, only crossed her arms and studied him—which wasn't as intimidating as it used to be thanks to her belly.
"Hi," he greeted in a feeble squeak, obviously puzzled and worried at her appearance.
She went straight to the point: "I have a test for you."
In the face of her emotionless declaration, Kyle flashed a simpering grin. "What, like a written exam?"
Irritated with his constant attempts to be friendly, Alex doubled down on the tough attitude. "Enough with the comedy club, Kyle."
Stung, he lost what little confidence he'd plucked up and became embarrassed. "You used to like my jokes," he mumbled self consciously, clearly regretting his approach.
Yeah. She had. "That's before I knew who you were," she returned gruffly, having a harder time appearing stoic as he reminded her of a past she wanted to forget.
Kyle's dark eyes showed the extent of his hurt as they looked directly into hers. "You do know who I am, though," he insisted in a forlorn murmur. "Yeah I'm fucked up and incomprehensibly flawed—and I certainly don't have to tell youthat." He was ashamed of himself, so much so that Alex had to let her eyes drop away for a second so he wouldn't see that she wasn't as apathetic as she was trying to act. "But I know what I did wrong and I care about fixing it," he insisted. She could hear all of the guilt, regret, and self-loathing he felt, and let herself meet his gaze again. He was sorry, and she could plainly see it, just like all the other times she'd seen him the past week or so. His volume wavered and lowered, and his eyes fell away. "I'm just trying my best out here," he said quietly, then looked up again. "Please," he whispered without any pride whatsoever. "Just give me a chance to prove myself."
And that's where she had good news for him. "This is your chance," Alex said pointedly, giving him a very meaningful look. "Dean's missing, and I'm heading up a two-team search. My… associate, Meg, is gonna be helping locate him. You're her backup."
Surprised, Kyle listened, thought it over for a tense second or two, then acquiesced. "Okay," he agreed. "Whatever you say." He hesitated, then added on a very soft, "Thank you."
The way he always made her feel so torn was irksome. And so was the way a sarcastic, offhand joke just flew out of her mouth unbidden: "Don't thank me yet. Meg's annoying as fuck to hang out with for more than five minutes at a time."
Hopeful, cautious, warming, Kyle smiled ever so slightly, and Alex doubled her efforts to look big and bad, stepping aside and motioning for him to exit so she could follow behind. He dutifully complied, then stopped short just outside of the door—and Alex saw why as she rounded the ex-Leviathan. Kevin stood there, obviously having listened in, and he looked vaguely sick. "Are you sending him on a suicide mission?" he asked bluntly, barely controlling how upset he appeared.
For a second, Alex was too surprised to respond—both by his sudden appearance and bold, sort of offensive question. It revealed how Kevin thought she operated, and Alex was discouraged. Kevin looked worried about Alex's potential wrath, but resigned to confronting her no matter the cost. If nothing else, she could respect his courage and sense of justice. She exhaled softly, tired to her core and briefly remembering a time that felt simpler. Present day was so fucking complicated. "All right look—I have no idea what kind of mission this is," she answered honestly, giving both guys authentic, honest looks in turn. "All I know is we gotta get my brother back."
She turned to Kyle and leveled with him. "You don't have to do it if you don't want to, Kyle—you can either do this and prove yourself to me, or just leave the bunker, because honestly… I don't like having you as a prisoner here." Finally divulging the truth felt better than she thought it would. Appearing amazed and painfully hopeful, Kyle listened with rapt, careful attention. Alex held up a cautioning finger and reminded him of the facts: "If you really wanna make amends to me for what you did… you'll help us find my brother. It'll definitely be dangerous, but you know that. So it's up to you." A lot rode on this. And she hoped he understood how much so.
Receptive and vulnerable, the ex-Leviathan nodding his understanding and drew himself up taller as a sense of dignity returned. He then sent a tiny, grateful smile to the worried prophet. "Thanks, Kevin. I'm gonna do it. I need to."
"Well then I'll come with you," Kevin offered immediately, a little flustered.
That surprised Alex. But not Kyle. He just looked appreciative and touched. He put a gentle, fond hand onto Kevin's shoulder. "Maybe next time, AP."
AP? Alex wondered, then quickly made the connection: Advanced Placement. Hmm. She watched the boys and the very certain way they looked at each other for that brief moment and had to wonder if Sam really was onto something. Kyle did have a thing for broken people, after all—maybe since he was one, too.
She didn't think of it too long because getting on the road was priority. Meg and Kyle were introduced to each other and they headed out to start searching for Dean while Sam and Alex packed up quickly. They quickly explained to Kevin about Jamie's late night arrival and unexpected companion. The prophet immediately understood he was kind of in charge for the moment and accepted the duty with some nervousness, but more determination than anything else. He also apologized for asking Alex what he'd asked in the basement. She told him not to worry about it.
Just a couple of hours ago, Sam Winchester been all flopped out asleep on the couch with no idea of what laid ahead. Now, he was at anxiety level ten, about to head out into the unknown.
After throwing their hastily packed bags into the trunk, Sam swung into the driver's seat of the Impala, shut his door, then studied the wheel apprehensively as he tried to get his racing pulse to slow down. He glanced sidelong as Alex lowered herself into the passenger seat with some effort, complaining with a groan as she navigated her increasing size. The sun was just beginning to dawn, rendering the outside world dim and soft in the promise of the summer heat to come later on. Alex shut her door. It was time to go. So, Sam put the keys into the ignition… and then found himself crippled by a flood of terror and stress.
The past nine days had been emotionally tough and lonely—but purposefully so, because Sam didn't know how to talk about his torn, conflicted, agonized emotions without shattering to pieces. Thankfully, looking after Alex (and everyone else too) had given Sam a way to temporarily ignore his distraught feelings over everything tearing him apart inside: Dean's actions, Dad abandoning them, his sister's potentially fatal pregnancy, saying goodbye to Molly. Taking action—like getting nursery stuff and organizing supplies and cleaning the kitchen top to bottom—had helped him avoid obsessing over all the things going wrong in his life. But now to sit behind the wheel—where Dean usually sat—Sam found himself breathing in and out a little quicker than normal, his mind and heart in a tizzy as his emotions became more and more sharp, intense, and scary.
Dean had perpetrated the worst betrayal of trust that Sam had ever experienced. That was a fact. The lying, the covering up, the way he endangered them all… it was truly unforgivable and so hurtful. However, since that terrible day where he'd learned the truth, Sam had come to the sobering realization that maybe he would have done the same thing if it had been Dean laying in that bed, headed for sure death. Grief and loss and fear made a person do strange things—Sam knew that firsthand. The lying, though. The deception afterward. How could he forgive that? Would he even get the chance? Every day he tried to push away the memory of the pained despair in his big brother's eyes as he begged them to hear him out. Maybe we should have. Regret colored Sam's every waking hour. And he needed to finally tell someone how much so, or he might die from the pressure it was creating inside. He just wanted Dean back so, so bad.
"I think about him every damn day," he whispered, agonized eyes locked onto space in front of himself unseeingly. "How much I miss him. How much I regret."
There was a long silence, and Sam thought it was because his sister was rightfully judging his pathetic, enduring love of Dean—it could be called Stockholm Syndrome at this point probably. But then Alex's quiet reply floated back to him, and he heard it in her tone: her pause was because she felt the same. "Me too." Those two words sent so much relief to comfort his most wretched depths, an instant weight lifted, and Sam looked at her in his misery, finding the same kind of emotion in her eyes that he felt in his spirit. "I mean, I thought I regretted running him off before last night," she admitted woefully, and Sam felt another surge of absolute relief as his heart cried out, Thank god it's not just me!
And now to know he had someone who understood, Sam needed to say it all out loud. "What he did to me was wrong," he managed, his face a tense mask of deep emotion. "But that's my brother." Alex nodded her understanding—she felt the same way. Sam's mouth and jaw worked and eyes began to flood. "And I just hope he knows I'll do anything to get him back." Because the worst thought he could think was Dean somewhere held prisoner or hostage, believing his family wouldn't come for him. They always would, goddammit. No matter what.
He was abruptly struck by a feeling like déjà vu, but it was for something he'd never actually lived. He could instantly imagine this very setup: a grim brother at the wheel, a distressed sister in the passenger seat. Both prepared to set out to find a missing family member who might not want to even be found—or might not even still be alive. It cut Sam to the core, and made him feel like a scared little kid. "Is this how he felt in ten years ago when Dad went missing?" he asked in the hoarsest of whispers, and Alex reacted instantly to that, empathy and sadness deep on her features. Sam was embarrassed at how his grief left him so shaky and weak, so nauseated. "I'm terrified," he continued in a teary voice, imagining the worst. "That we won't be able to find him. That it's too late. That I won't know what to do." Sam dashed at an eye, overwhelmed with thoughts of Dean, the man who had been through Hell and back and always made it look like a minor inconvenience. "He always knows what to do," Sam said, crumpling as the full extent of his devastating feelings crashed over him. How had Dean managed this kind of situation over and over and over again? "It's like the whole world is on me, Alex," he managed through tears, putting a hand to his face in shame as his truest fear came to the surface: "And I don't know if I can do this."
The car rocked gently as she scooted closer to him. Her steadfast hand touched his shoulder comfortingly. "You can," she said, and slid an arm around him into a firm side embrace. "We can."
He felt guilty for making her comfort him in that moment. He felt like a burden because he wasn't able to just shut it all down and drive. Still, his fears poured out of him without stopping. "But what if something happened to our brother? Something we can't come back from?" Sam protested, then pointed out the thing that scared him the most, the thing he couldn't stop thinking about: "He wouldn't leave Jamie and his own fucking baby without nuclear resistance—w-what if Crowley killed him?"
There was a brief, tortured pause, then a gentle but trembling, "Look at me." He did. Her eyes were scared like his, but her voice was strong on purpose, almost as if she were repeating a mantra. "…We can't think about the what ifs. We just gotta find out for sure, and then deal with whatever comes next after that." As if she were remembering something dear to her, Alex smiled, but it was through the sudden onset of tears. "…That's what he said to me when we realized Dad was really, actually missing all those years ago," she explained in a wavering voice, and Sam reacted instantly, growing more emotional as he understood. "And the very next thing he said," Alex said, getting so tearful that her voice distorted, "was 'we gotta go get Sammy.'" Having never known that—Sam broke down. His big brother had first thought of him when he'd needed the support of a lifetime? That fateful night in his Stanford apartment flitted through Sam's memories—Dean's nonchalant-but-not-really appeals to come hit the road with him and their silent, brooding sister who Sam couldn't figure out at the time. Alex was nodding, sniffing, and working through a lot of emotion as the tears streaked her face. She tried a smile. "He knew we needed you."
Sam was somehow overjoyed and devastated all at the same time. He nodded back, wrecked as it all hit home. "I needed you guys too," he said, voice dipping into barely audible. "Still do."
Nodding her agreement, Alex smiled in earnest, and Sam could feel the love, especially when she cupped his teary face. "I know," she whispered back. "Me too." She wiped at his tears kindly, giving him bravery by showing him hers. "We can do this," she said, and the way she said it, he believed her. "I'm with you, Sam." She patted his cheek and braced his shoulders, proving that she understood him when she finished with this: "You don't have to be okay right now. I'm sure as fuck not."
It was a reminder he'd desperately needed, and Sam nodded one more time. He could easily remember back to a time when there had been little but resentments and rifts between him and his twin sister—and as such, he would never take for granted the healing their relationship had received. Especially not today. "I love you, Al," he said, that old nickname of hers that he never really used slipping off the tongue without a conscious thought for the second time that day. "I really really do."
He already knew she felt the same, but hearing it was another thing he'd never take for granted. Nor was seeing the uncensored vulnerability and affection in her eyes. "I love you too Sammy."
And just like that, Sam realized he felt taller, surer, and better. He wasn't alone in this, not by a long shot. It was time to go find their missing third piece and bring him back where he belonged.
Taking in a deep, steady breath, Sam turned to the wheel and Alex shifted back to the passenger side. The car started up with a smooth revving growl, tapering back down to the quiet, gravelly purr. An immediate rush of emotion and familiarity accompanied that sound. Sam breathed in deep, letting his hands take hold of the wheel—imagining that he was somehow drawing strength from the remnants of whatever energy Dean's hands left behind.
"Okay." He let out a hard exhale and sent his sister a soft, brave smile. "Let's go."
Two Weeks Later
Outside of a Gas-n-Sip in a beat-down area of town, two women waited beside a jet-black Impala. They wore professional, tailored outfits and dark sunglasses. One was pregnant. She had her eye on a young man with messy blonde hair who was skulking around a few meters off, hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans.
Watchful, the other woman smirked. "Sometimes I get the feeling you hope he just wanders off and never bothers you again," Meg commented sidelong to Alex.
That earned her a faintly tested glance. "And sometimes you sound like you don't know what you're talking about."
Meg scoffed playfully. "Kid's harmless. Ex-Leviathan or not." She leaned a little closer, a saucy smile on her face. "Wouldn't think the chick pregnant with an angel's baby would be so… speciesist."
Alex gave little away except the fact that she was faintly amused. "Aren't you trying to join our club or something? Less insults might get you better odds of admission."
Meg cracked right back: "What, and deprive you of my sparkling humor and adorable wit?" Alex snorted.
Dressed in his FBI blues, Sam strode up, returning from inside of the convenience store. "You two, stop flirting," he said, then jerked his head the way he'd just come from. "We're all set to review the footage, Agents." Alex didn't comment about the flirting joke, but did sigh under her breath. This lead had better pan out—this was all getting intensely old and frustrating.
The group of three crossed the hot concrete baking in midday sun, looking the part of jaded, douchey FBI agents as Kyle hung back and kept an eye out.
At first, this ragtag little group of four had done exactly what they'd planned: divided and conquered in the search for Dean. Sam and Alex had first gone to the scene of the crime in Cleveland and found nothing there. They'd then lured and captured a couple of demons in that vicinity and interrogated them ruthlessly. The demons didn't seem to know anything except that Hell was in complete disarray and Crowley was missing. Shortly after that, Meg made contact and said she talked to one demon who spotted Crowley 'and a friend' in a gentlemen's club in Washington state. The twins had headed there immediately, only to arrive to a new report that Crowley had just been spotted in New York City with the same 'friend' in tow—someone whose description matched Dean's. Back and forth, all over the American continent the pair made appearances, proving impossible to catch up to. The only thing that was certain was chaos and destruction seemed to be left behind anywhere the two of them turned up.
From his distance in Wichita, Cas did indeed do his best to locate Dean in dreams, and tried multiple times a day, but reported that Dean must not be sleeping or was somehow warded or cursed—because he was not in the dreamscape. Frustrated that he was unable to join his family to look for his missing brother, Alex found herself having to console Cas almost daily over the phone or in their shared dreams. But it turned out that he was, for the moment, right where he needed to be. Cas had been forced to kill Bartholomew in self-defense when their meeting went wrong two weeks ago. While he'd assumed in the moment that Bartholomew's entire faction would turn on him, the opposite had been true: every angel but four out of the one hundred and thirty-seven had looked to Castiel as their new leader. They said Bartholomew had let the power go to his head and had acted as a cruel, dishonest dictator, not the humble, kind leader they'd believed him to be. And just like that, Cas was yet again thrust into a position of leadership over the angels, like it or not. For now, he was staying in the role, albeit very cagily so. Alex talked him out of leaving every day—because the angels were getting closer to tracking Metatron down and finding a way to take him down. 'Just a little longer' had become their mantra.
That was what Alex was thinking at that precise second, striding into the gas station their newest lead had come from. Just a little longer. Because goddamn, this shit couldn't carry on like this forever.
"So the manager says the same two guys have been coming in and trashing his store, stealing stuff for the past three days at odd hours—" Sam explained as they went into the little messy manager's office crammed into the back of the store. A pile of VHS tapes with dates written in messy sharpie was stacked up waiting for them. "He got this list ready for us." Sam held up a yellow lined notebook page with timestamps. Alex grabbed the first tape on the stack and popped it into the extremely vintage television set, fiddling with the remote to find the controls.
"Look at the three am mark," Sam said, glancing at the paper for reference.
She did, scrubbing through the grainy, monochrome footage and hitting play just as a familiar looking fellow entered the low-res frame.
"Well, look who it is," Alex breathed softly, studying Crowley closely. The lack of resolution made it hard to make out details, but she could tell it was definitely Crowley. However, he looked kind of… she tried to decide. Mousy? Cagey? Reluctant?
"Why's he look so shifty?" Meg asked.
"Maybe because he is," Sam muttered back, the distaste easy to hear.
And then Alex's heart jumped as another person entered the frame. She'd recognize the back of that head anywhere—it was Dean. Even as she recognized him, he turned and looked to the side. Did his hair look kind of different, or was it a trick of the light? Alex squinted.
"There's our boy," Meg commented silkily, then tilted her head to the side a bit in confusion as everyone else reacted similarly: Dean exchanged words with Crowley, appearing to berate him and roll his eyes and then brush him off with a scoff. Crowley almost appeared to be doped out or paranoid—cringing as Dean pulled a beer out of a cooler and smashed it open messily, guzzling it in the middle of the store as the poor night-shift employee cowered behind the counter, saying something that the audio-free recording didn't reveal.
Dean seemed to think the employee's terror was funny and leapt onto the counter to stand, kicking things over with glee. He wasn't fully in the frame, so it was kind of hard to see him entirely, but from what was visible, he was laughing raucously and maybe even mocking the clerk.
"…What the hell is he doing?" Sam asked, his quiet alarm growing by the second.
Pale, Alex watched without understanding at all. "Is Crowley giving him… like… drugs?" she asked breathlessly. PCP? LSD? "He's gotta be cursed," she continued, not sure how to understand what she was seeing.
And then she watched Dean hop down, pull out a gun, and cooly demand all the money in the register, his mania dropping away in favor of a frightening scowl. As the twins stared in horror at the footage, Meg's narrowed, thoughtful. eyes went across the street. "Look at that seedy motel," she prompted. "I can smell the mold and mildew from here—how much ya wanna bet that's where these two idiots holed up?"
Not long after, the entire group of four was at that very motel in a room rented to one 'Alpha Kenny Wun' (one of Dean's oldest name jokes in the book). While no one was inside, there was quite a lot of indications around of what had been happening in that room. On one end of the suite, Sam looked up from his investigation to his sister. "Whatcha got?"
On the opposite end near the second unmade bed, Alex shook her head and made a face, tossing a crumpled beer can against a pile of at least twenty more. "Like fifty thousand bottles and cans, some smoked joints, an eight-ball of cocaine, and, uh—" she winced away in disgust from a lacy red thong hanging off the bottle she'd just picked up, "several pairs of panties." Mystified didn't even begin to cover her state of mind right then.
Sam stood up and showed off his findings—several gross red-stained pouches. "Well I've got a bunch of drained blood bags and bupkus."
Nearby, Kyle had picked up a few of the hundred dollar bills littering the entire place. "Not the best at math but based on some quick deduction…" his dark eyes skimmed over the sea of trash, money, and discarded crap. "I think there's close to a hundred grand in here," he said, then made a face as he pulled the bills apart and found some sort of sticky substance was gumming them up together. "But they didn't seem to value it too much."
Stumped and unsettled, Sam and Alex exchanged a discouraged, lost look. This was the closest they'd gotten… but to what? What was wrong with Dean?
"Hell-o," Meg said, straightening up from the crouch she'd just taken. She held up a 4x6 double-sided print out that had a local bar's logo on it. She waggled the little promo flyer and her eyebrows at the same time. "'Karaoke night,'" she read. "Tonight at nine."
Walking over, Alex snatched it away from her, reading the smaller tagline beneath then showing it to Sam meaningfully. "Five dollar beers and burgers."
If that wasn't a mecca to their brother, nothing was. Sam took the flyer from her, read it for himself, then his eyes rose into hers. "Bingo."
Alex instructed Kyle to wait at the room and call immediately if he so much as saw Crowley's coat-tail, then Meg went ahead of the Winchesters to scope out the bar.
As the twins got to the Impala, Alex heaved a huge sigh. Angelic pregnancy or not, her back was beginning to hurt all the time, her mood was dour, and she felt kind of out of her depth since seeing that horrific gas station footage earlier. "God I hope this is our break, Sam," she muttered. "I can't do this much longer, I feel like I'm about to bust."
Across the Impala, Sam's answer took a second to register. "You look like it, too."
When she realized what he'd said, Alex's unfocused eyes snapped over to look at her brother, who was hiding a stupid grin. "Hey!" she protested, but his obvious little plan to tease her into cheering her up had worked. She was grinning, too.
"I have eyes, you know!" he defended innocently.
She gave him a prim, falsely-threatening look. "Not for much longer, dude."
Sam opened the door to the car and gave her a nonplussed little smile just before he slid into the driver's seat. "Doubt you could reach."
Mouth agape both at his very savage shade at her shorter height, Alex stood there for a second, wondering if she should be offended. She ended up just being impressed—and then laughed softly and helplessly. "Ice cold," she commented to herself, shaking her head at her brother's joshing. She got into the car and the two exchanged a goofy little smile. Oddly enough, the two weeks on the road had been a time of unexpected bonding for them. Even with everything that was going on, it had been a slice out of their old life, soothing somehow to be hitting motels and grabbing fast food and listening to the constant lull of the Impala's engines.
Sam turned the car on, and with it, his lighter mood disappeared too. Alex knew why, and became somber right along with him. She was afraid of what they were about to find, but was trying to reserve judgment until she saw Dean with her own eyes. Sam looked sidelong at her, checking in. "Let's go get our brother, huh?" he asked softly.
Alex nodded stiffly. "Yeah," she said softly, staring into the windshield blindly as Sam pulled the car out of the parking lot and drove them toward the bar located across town.
Neither of them had any idea of how awful of a truth they were about to discover.