The afternoon had taken a warmer turn by the time that Alex and Isla part ways, prompting the young hunter to walk down Jackson's main street at a leisurely pace rather than with urgent haste. The lunchtime rush is busier than usual with locals streaming on the footpaths and cars racing down the roads, forcing Alex to greet more than the one or two familiar faces on her way to the aquatic centre. That's one of the many repercussions of living in a small town; everyone seems to know one another and have no qualms about getting caught up in other's business. It's truly a miracle that the Donovans have managed to stay as reclusive as they have after all these years.
A quick look at her bank balances informs her that she isn't as broke as she originally thought, but she knows that it wouldn't hurt to pick up a few shifts at the pool. She's always enjoyed working there, and there's something a lot more satisfying with earning her money through hard work rather than hustling drunk morons in pool in some dingy little back road bar somewhere. Dianne was great, the kids, though often little smart-asses, weren't too bad, and it was a good way to keep Alex busy without having a hunt to keep her occupied.
Knowing full well that Noah's store is on the way to the centre, she pulls out her phone and begins to type out a message asking him whether or not he is still there. She would prefer to talk to him sooner rather than later so that he doesn't have time to come up with some feeble lie or half-assed excuse to explain his strange behaviour, as she knows from experience that it's easier for her to pry information from him that he might not be inclined to share with her when she catches him entirely off guard.
She sends the message just as she passes Josie's, a popular café that she and Noah frequent quite often. Making a split-second decision and thinking that a cup of coffee might help soften the blow of her accusations, she makes a beeline for the entrance and pushes past the door, the small bell hanging above ringing and alerting her presence to everyone inside. Noah's usual order dances on the tip of her tongue as she makes her way to the front counter, the rich scent of coffee hanging in the air and flooding her senses causing a warmth of familiarity to blossom in her chest. The few locals scattered in the booths and the tables nod in greeting as she passes them, and it doesn't take long for Abraham Jones, owner of the small café, to spot her from where he stands on the other side of the counter.
"Alex Donovan," he says, his face almost split in two from his smile. "As I live and breathe."
Despite the more than exhausting morning, Alex manages a small but genuine grin. "Hey, Abraham."
"Haven't seen your face for a while. I didn't even realise that you were back in town."
"Yeah, I just got back late last night. Can I get Noah's usual, please? Takeaway?"
"Sure thing, honey. You want anything?"
"Nah, I just had one at Isla's. Thanks anyway."
The older man nods and shuffles towards the coffee machine with a cup in his withered hand, before starting to make the drink. As he moves about and hums a light tune under his breath, Alex quickly pulls her phone out of her pocket to see whether or not Noah has replied to her message. To her disappointment, he hasn't.
"So, where did you end up this time?" Abraham asks, causing Alex to quickly put her phone away out of politeness.
"New York- did a few city shoots while I was there," she replies, the lie flowing easy.
The few locals that she and Noah are friendly enough with have been led to believe that the reason behind Alex's frequent coming and goings in and out of Jackson is that she does some professional photography on the side. It's not a total lie, as Alex had enjoyed taking photos a lot when she was younger and had taken a few classes in high school. And whenever she is on a hunt, sometimes she'll snag a photo when the opportunity arises to help sell her story to the people of Jackson, but she wouldn't go as far as to call herself a professional. Far from it, actually. But Abraham and the rest of the locals don't have to know that.
"You'll have to show Josie them when you get the chance- she absolutely loved that set that you did when you went camping in Minnesota. Absolutely breathtaking."
Alex prays that he doesn't notice the way that her smile tightens. In reality, she had been in Minnesota working a wendigo case that had left a nasty scar on the side of her hip. There hadn't been that much camping involved at all.
"You and Noah can stop by for dinner sometime next week if you like, and you can show her then."
"I'll talk to him, see when he's free."
"Mmm. Well, it would be good to see him out and about considering that we haven't seen much of him since you left town."
She shrugs as she leans against the counter to watch the boiling, dark liquid fall into the cup sitting beneath the portafilter while Abraham goes at it with the steam wand. "Well, he's been pretty preoccupied with sorting through a ton of new stock for the store. And he's probably been busy with running that as well."
The older man's brows furrow at this, and he glances out of her from the corner of his dark eyes. Still concentrating on preparing the drink, he slowly reveals, "I don't see how, seeing as how the shop's been closed for the past few weeks."
Alex's stomach drops. "What?"
"The shop, it's been closed for almost three weeks now." Abraham shoots her a funny look as if he had expected that this wouldn't be startling news for her. As he finishes heating and frothing the milk, he adds, "Every time I walk past it in the morning, it's always closed. Same when we shut in the afternoon as well. Haven't seen much of him- I don't even know if he's been coming in, so it'll be good to see him after so long."
Alex absentmindedly nods, ignoring whatever else that seeps past Abraham's lips at that point as the panic begins to settle and shock her to her core. This entirely contradicts what Noah had told her last night. He had blatantly stated that business had been quiet due to a lack of customers, not because he had closed the shop. He's done it in the past before, but only when he has to leave town for whatever reason- something that he would warn Alex about in case she came back to an empty home and worried about his whereabouts. But he hadn't left town, had he? Isla said that he and Oscar spoke a few times while she was gone.
But she had also failed to mention that the shop had been closed in the first place. Alex's confusion on this matter doesn't last long, however, as she realises that Isla would have been too preoccupied and busy with her new job at the hospital to notice such a thing.
Why had he closed the shop?
He lied to her. Noah never lies to her.
What the hell is going on?
Swallowing the worry as best as she can, she tries her best to wave a dismissive hand and school the features of her face into a look of nonchalance as best as possible. "Like I said, he's had a few new shipments and stocks to sort out. He's probably been too busy sorting that all out to be running the shop at the same time."
She must sound convincing enough, as Abraham only lets out a small hum of agreement as he pours the milk into the cup. "Well, it will be good to catch up properly with you both again. I've got some new photos of the grandkids to show you too. Little Zara started school two months ago…"
As he informs her of how the rest of his family are doing, Alex makes the odd non-committal noise here and there, her mind too preoccupied with worry for Noah. Her hand itches to reach in and grab her phone to check once again to see whether or not he has messaged her back yet, but she knows that doing so might alert Abraham that something is wrong. So she smiles, laughs when appropriate and pretends to listen while silently wanting nothing more than to leg it and race off to find Noah.
She contains a sigh of relief as Abraham finally slides the drink across the counter, and she's quick to slap down the correct amount of money and take the warm drink in her cool hands. "Thanks, Abraham."
"Of course. Now, don't you go and be a stranger, alright? I expect you and Noah to both be at ours next week-"
"I promise I'll call you either sometime tonight or tomorrow to let you know," Alex says, slowly backing away from the counter as she does. "Take care of yourself until then, alright?"
"Same goes, Alex. Looking forward to hearing from you."
Sending him a wave, Alex whirls on the spot and immediately reaches for the phone in her pocket. Her hands shake as she continues to walk and pulls up Noah's contact to once again see whether or not there is a message waiting for her. Her thumb presses the button-
She crashes into something hard, causing her to bounce back and stumble as the phone goes flying from her hand. A disgruntled sound coming from somewhere in front of her informs her that is likely a person that she has walked into, but she pays them no attention as her phone crashes on the ground with a gut-wrenching smash, causing her heart to leap into her throat.
"Bloody hell," she curses, before putting the thankfully untouched coffee on the table closest to her as she bends down to retrieve the small device. She lets out a breath of relief when she finds that it is miraculously in one piece, before pulling herself back upright once more. Grabbing the coffee, she turns towards the person that she had run into with an apology ready at her lips-
-only to come to a screeching halt when her chocolate orbs land on none other than Dean Winchester standing before her.
"Hi there," he greets.
Fuck.
She is quick to recover from the initial shock, and her hold on the coffee tightens. "Are you following me?" She demands, the words bursting past her lips before she can stop them. They draw the attention of a young couple sitting at a table to her left, but she pays them no attention as she glares up at the last person that she wants to see right now.
Caught off guard by either her abrupt demand or the hostility lacing her tone, he blinks his apple green eyes owlishly. "What? No. I came in here looking for something to eat- you just happen to be in here at the same time."
She studies his face carefully, going over every detail of it to try and discern whether or not he is telling the truth. He surprisingly doesn't squirm under her rather intense stare, and once satisfied that there is nothing but sincerity to be found, she relaxes her stance. But the scowl remains. "I thought you and your brother would be long gone by now."
"We've already paid for the motel. Shit's not cheap, so we're sticking around for another night."
Alex resists the urge to curse out loud. This is exactly what Isla had tried to warn her about, but she had honestly believed there to be no truth to her words. Not much in the mood to talk- as she has a pretty good idea about what the conversation would revolve around- she only nods her head before she starts to step around him, hoping that he would leave it at that.
To her annoyance, he mirrors her actions and steps with her, blocking her path to the door. "Whoa, where's the fire?"
The coffee cup threatens to split under her suddenly iron-like grip. "Excuse me."
"Not so fast, Queen Victoria. I need to talk to you."
"No, you don't."
Dean scoffs. "I beg to friggin' differ."
"Haven't we already done this? I already told you I can't help you. You've got the wrong girl."
"That's not what Ellen Harvelle thinks."
"Well, Ellen isn't here, is she?" Is Alex's curt response before she tries to move around him once again. To her absolute fury, he blocks her path in the same manner as before, with a hint of a smirk ghosting his plump lips. He's riling her up, and the asshole clearly knows this. It fuels her urge to punch the smugness out of him, but the other people conversing in the restaurant hold her back. "I'm going to ask this as nicely as I can. Get out. Of. My way."
"That's you asking nicely?"
"Fine. Please get out of my way, or I'm going to have to resort to moving you myself. And trust me when I say you're not going to like it."
He raises a brow, turning his head back and forth to nod to all the other people sitting in the café. "You really gonna try something right here, in front of all these people? I've only been here a day or so, but everyone here seems pretty nice. I don't think they'd take too kindly to something like that, Queenie."
She sees red at the use of the nickname. She's used to it from other people- she is British, after all. But it almost sounds patronizing falling from his lips, and it agitates her even more than she already is. "I don't give a shit," she hisses. "Get out of my way, or I swear to God I'll-"
"Everything alright, Alex?"
Breaking free from the tense spell between her and the other infuriating hunter, Alex turns to the sound of the new voice to see Abraham carefully watching the two of them from the other side of the counter. His eyes dart back and forth with concern, clearly taking note of the anger written plainly on her face and the way that she and Dean have subconsciously squared up to one another. His question rings out and grabs the attention of everyone else in the café, who simultaneously turn their heads towards where Alex and Dean stand to look at them curiously, and it takes everything within Alex not to scoff at this. Nosy bastards.
Not wanting Dean to get the upper hand, she allows an easy smile to grace her lips. "We're all good, Abraham. I was just about to leave," she says, putting emphasis on the last word as she turns back around to face Dean again. He has to let her pass now unless he wanted to look like a complete asshole in front of all of these people, some of whom she's known for years now. If they were going to be on anyone's side here, then it would be hers; not someone that they've never even laid their eyes on before.
He seems to understand this, as his jaw clenches and the smirk dissipates entirely. Without hesitating or taking his eyes off her, he steps to the side so that she has free access to the café door. Sending him a look that screams, Take that, Dickhead, she wastes no time in moving past him and rushing out while calling one last thanks to Abraham over her shoulder.
The moment that her feet hit the pavement she takes off, walking at a pace just faster than average in an attempt to put as much distance between herself and the café as possible. The anger still lingers, but she finds that she can breathe a hell of a lot easier out here in the fresh air, and she does her best to inhale deeply and slowly in an effort to calm down. The last thing she wants to do is talk to Noah in an angry state of mind or draw any more unwanted attention from the residents still crowding the streets.
Of all the people that she could have run into at Josie's, it just had to be one of the two people that she would very much like to avoid right now. She honestly thought that they would have gotten the message earlier and wouldn't bother her again. But now they're staying here for another night or two? She represses a groan. She wouldn't be leaving the farmhouse after her business in town was done, that much is for sure. Not until they clear off, at least.
"Hey!"
Her eyes briefly squeeze shut. Fuck me. Should've known he wouldn't leave it at that.
She hears his heavy footsteps pounding against the path as he jogs to catch up with her, and seconds later Dean falls in step beside a very annoyed Alex. She quickens her pace, hoping that he would get the message that she wants to be left alone, but he only matches the new speed. "We're not finished," he says.
"Yes, we bloody well are," Alex snarls without breaking stride. "I have nothing to say to you."
He hums, clearly not caring for her words in the slightest. "Hey, I've been meaning to ask, what's with the accent?"
"What's with the bowlegs?" She retorts, her words causing him to stop dead in her tracks. She doesn't bother to hide her smirk as she moves forward without him, but she can't help glancing back to see that he is staring down at the legs in question, mouth agape and brows furrowed. When he tilts his head back up and notices her obvious glee, he scowls.
"You're kind of a bitch, you know that, right?"
"You're not wrong!"
She can't help but feel somewhat better with the small victory of managing to tick him off, but the good mood is brief, as it seems that her snarky attitude and bitchy words aren't enough to deter him. He's quick to catch up to her within seconds, and this time, she doesn't hold back a groan of frustration. It's her turn to come to an abrupt halt and face him, snapping, "Seriously, take the hint! Can you just leave me alone? I already told you-"
"You've told me jack squat," Dean fires back, his voice deep. "But the way that you acted this morning when Sam and I mentioned Yellow Eyes to you tells me that you've got plenty to share."
A blush threatens to creep up her neck at the reminder of her panicked behaviour, but a feeling of unease that begins to form in the pit of her gut at the mention of her worst nightmare is enough to keep the panic at bay. It doesn't matter how many times she speaks about the demon in one day or how long she's spent hiding from it; talking about the demon is always enough to make her feel sick to her stomach. And for good reason, too.
"Even if I did, it would be none of your damn business-"
"Anything regarding the thing that killed my parents is my business."
It's here that Alex holds her tongue, having almost forgotten about this little snippet of information that Ellen had shared with her earlier. He may be annoying the absolute fuck out of her right now, but she would be lying if she said she doesn't feel even an inkling of sympathy for the man standing before her. He had spoken the words so steely that it would be hard for her not to notice his underlying sense of anger; his green eyes practically burn with it. Clearly, the wound of losing his parents is still fresh and stings every day, undoubtedly fuelling his need to track the thing responsible down so that he can kill it.
And she gets it; she more than gets it. She's been exactly where he's been before so on some level, she can understand. But it's not enough to make her change her mind, drop everything right then and there and hit the road with him and his brother like those closest to her hope she will.
"Look, I'm sorry for whatever hell it put you through. I am, OK? But I can't help you. I've tried going after it in the past and I've paid one too many prices for doing so, in more ways than one. I can't go through all of that again- I won't. Sorry."
She goes to press forward, but the stubborn hunter reaches out to grasp her arm just above her elbow to keep her in place. Instinctively, she jerks her arm back and out of his reach before he can get a proper hold on it, and her free hand immediately clenches into a fist, ready to be swung at any moment. "Don't get familiar," she seethes.
He immediately holds up his hands in surrender at the venom in her tone. "Sorry," he cautiously says, taking a step back from her. It isn't until she lowers her arm after a few moments of deliberation that he urgently continues, "Look, Ellen said you could help is. You clearly know a lot about this thing, or you have some connection to it. And Sammy and I? We're desperate to find this evil son of a bitch before it hurts anyone else. So, just me what you know and we'll leave, alright? You'll never have to hear from my brother or I again."
She purses her lips at the tempting offer, her fingers idly picking at the coffee lid between them. It's the ideal outcome. Not only will it get the Winchesters out of her life, but it will also get Ellen off her back- she'd eventually forget all of this, and Alex wouldn't have to give the brothers a second thought after today.
But there's just one problem. It's not necessarily a case that she doesn't want to help them, even though that ugly, little untrusting part of her screams at her to send the brothers off without so much as uttering a single word of guidance to them; it's more of a case that she can't. And there's a very simple reason for that;
"I don't know anything."
"Oh, for fuck's sake…"
"Screw you, jackass, I'm being serious," she snaps. "Despite whatever it is that Ellen told you, I don't know a single damn thing about this thing. It's a demon, it has yellow eyes- that's pretty much it."
"Then what the fuck are we even doing here?!" Dean exclaims with an angry wave of his arms.
"Beats me."
"But Ellen sent us-"
"For a reason, I know," Alex finishes with yet another roll of her eyes. "Like I haven't heard that enough times already today…"
"Bite me."
"I'd sooner die."
She can tell by the way that his lips press into a thin line and a red tinge spreads across his face that he is starting to get fed up with her uncooperative responses, but she only raises a brow, almost silently challenging him to contradict her words. She's telling the truth, and she's more than prepared to defend herself against him until they're both blue in the face from arguing, and the message finally gets through his thick skull. Anything to get him off her case about this whole ordeal, and as far away from Jackson as possible.
The message finally seems to sink in, as he breathes out slowly through his nose likely in an effort to swallow his growing agitation. "Fine," is his gruff reply. "Fine, you don't know anything about it, but there's still a connection somehow. And you can try to bullshit all you want, but I know there is. So what does it want with you?"
She feels the fight drain from her almost entirely at the question, as it reminds her of why her life has been turned upside down in the first place. It's depressing to think about, let alone to say the words out loud. Yet, she can't help but think that if she tells Dean why this thing has thrown her life into turmoil then he will finally grasp why it is that she refuses to go after the demon, and why she can't and won't help him and his brother. Because she knows deep down that if she hits the road with them then there's only one way that it's going to end for her. And there's one very simple reason as to why;
"It wants me dead."
Whatever it is that Dean had been expecting, this clearly isn't it. He lets out a low whistle while wrinkles crease his forehead from how high he raises his brows. "Jesus. What the hell did you do to piss it off so much?"
She lets out a bitter laugh. That's the million-dollar question, isn't it? "If I ever figure that one out myself, you'll be the last to know."
At this, Dean frowns. "I don't get it. You're a goddamn hunter, so why are you being so difficult? If it were anyone else that we came to, they would help us in a heartbeat-"
"Well, I'm not anyone else, am I? I don't owe you anything. You come into my town and barge into my life, demanding my help when I've told you more times than I count that I can't fucking help you. Take the bloody hint, leave me the fuck alone and don't bother me again."
And with that, she unapologetically pushes past him with her shoulder and continues to march forward, holding her head high and using every ounce of control that she has to not fall into the same flustered state that she had this morning. She can feel the panic bubbling just underneath her surface, threatening to boil over at any given moment but she does her best to swallow it. She needs to be clear-headed when she talks to Noah, otherwise, he would notice her unease and flip the conversation back to her wellbeing rather than hers.
But along with the panic, boils white-hot anger. Fuck Dean Winchester. She doesn't deserve this crap-not after everything she's been through. And it's as she said; despite whatever imaginary debt that he thinks she's inclined to owe him, she owes him absolute fuck all. If he was too dumb to realise that she wasn't going to help him, then that's his problem. All she can do is hope that he'll leave it at that and leave, never crossing paths with her again.
"What if I told you there's a way to kill it?"
Now that has her stopping in her tracks despite every fibre of her being screaming at her to keep walking. A brief, inward war tears her apart as she stands there undeciding of whether to keep moving forward or to indulge in this little make-believe fantasy, but it seems that the latter emerges triumphant as she turns around to shoot him a pitying look. "I'd say that you're deluded, but that's not saying much."
He sends her a mocking look. "Cute. Well, there is. Ever heard of Samuel Colt?"
"Who?"
His face drops. "Seriously? Samuel Colt? Legendary cowboy hunter?" At the blank expression he receives for this, his eyes widen incredulously. "Every hunter's heard of Samuel Colt…"
"Well, clearly not every hunter. Can you skip the suspense and just get on with it, please?"
"He was a hunter back in the 1800s, but he was also something of a genius as well. He built this gun- this colt. It can kill everything and anything; including demons."
"Bullshit."
His hands raise, the ring on his right ring finger gleaming underneath the warmth of the sun. "I swear to God, it's true. I've used it on a demon myself."
She waits for the punchline or for him to burst into a fit of laughter, finding his own joke too hilarious to keep up the act anymore. She's not stupid. As if there's really a gun that is capable and that powerful to kill a demon. Everyone knows that they're unkillable. The only proper way to deal with them is to send them back to hell, and even that wasn't a permanent fix. Sooner or later they would crawl their way back out with a hunger for revenge for the one that sent them back home in the first place. But now Dean's trying to tell her that a gun- a simple gun- can deliver the final blow? Not bloody likely.
But the laughter never comes, and the punchline is never delivered. He only stands before her with nothing but seriousness etched to the features of his face, and with a start, she realises that he's telling the truth. Or a version of it that he believes, anyway.
But still. Alex isn't easily convinced. "Oh, yeah? So, where is this supposed legendary gun then? Do you have it on you, or…?"
At this, he turns sheepish and reaches up to scratch awkwardly at the back of his neck. "We… we lost it…"
"You lost it."
"… the demon took it…"
"Ah." It takes everything within her not to laugh in his face, so she settles for an unimpressed shake of her head instead. "I'm sorry, but you let the demon take the one thing that can supposedly kill it? What kind of hunter are you?"
"Says the one that refuses to hunt."
"I do hunt, dumbass. Just not this thing."
"You're scared."
"I'm smart, there's a differ…" Her voice trails off mid-sentence, as her eyes inadvertently flicker towards Noah's store halfway down the street thinking that she could book it and make an escape. Her eyes skim over Noah's old, teal blue Chevrolet truck parked out front of the store, informing her that Noah is likely still inside but that's not what causes alarms to start going off in her head.
It's the door- with the closed sign facing forward- wide open, swinging slightly back and forth in the crisp breeze, with Noah nowhere in sight.
The hairs on the back of her neck immediately raise on end and she knows deep in her gut that there is something wrong. Ignoring Dean, who has chosen to use her moment of silence to his advantage and continue to rant about hunters helping one another or some kind of bullshit, she side-steps around him and hurries down the street, leaving him behind and confused in her wake.
She crosses the street once it's safe and immediately rushes over to the truck, foolishly hoping that Noah will be tucked away in there, safe and sound and fiddling with his keys to go and lock up the shop. Her throat tightens when she peers through the open window and finds that he's not in there, but that the keys are locked in the ignition. She reaches through the window to immediately pull them out, and they feel heavy in her palm as she stares down at them suddenly feeling nauseous. He would have needed the keys to lock up the shop, so he would have most certainly taken them back inside with him if he had to grab something at the last minute.
Suddenly, a tall shadow is cast onto the side of the vehicle as a figure walks up behind her, and she whips around hoping desperately that it would be Noah waiting to greet her. To Alex's disappointment, it's Dean who the shadow belongs to, and he watches her carefully as he takes note of the panic underlying her features as she turns her gaze to the still open shop door.
"What is it?" He asks.
She swallows thickly, reaching up to place the now cold coffee on the hood of the truck and using her now free hand to pat the side of her jacket to double-check that her handgun is tucked away securely in her pocket. She wants nothing more than to draw it out right then and there, the weapon providing a familiar comfort to her in situations like this, but she knows that it will only cause the other pedestrians strolling about and carrying on with their usual lives to collectively lose their shit, not knowing about the possible danger lurking nearby.
"Donovan," Dean stresses, his voice firmer than before.
"I don't know," she hisses through grit teeth, before slowly treading forward. She hears Dean mutter something unintelligible under his breath and sees him give a short, wave of his hands in exasperation through the reflection of the store windows, before defeatedly sighing and following after her.
She pushes the door open the rest of the way, thankful that it doesn't creak with the movement. Her eyes rake over the front of the store, drinking in every detail of the oak shelves, tables and the hundreds of books- both old and new- that they contain, looking for anything that might be out of place or suggest that something is wrong. But every book is exactly where it's supposed to be, and every sign is in perfect condition; there's just not another soul in sight. Including Noah.
Knowing that she is in the clear, she reaches into the coat of her pocket and pulls out her gun, hearing Dean curse under his breath behind her as she cocks it and steadily holds it up in front of her. Her finger hovers over the trigger as she moves forward, her steps slow and precise, careful not to make even the smallest of sounds. If someone- or something- else is in here besides Noah, then she doesn't want to alert them of her presence just yet.
"You gonna tell me what the hell is going on?" Dean whispers as she weaves through some stacks. He does the same on the other side of the store, making sure that the coast is clear before he rounds each corner with his own gun gripped tightly between his fingers.
"Something isn't right."
"How do you figure?"
"The door has been left wide open-"
"So what? People leave doors open all the time."
"Not Noah. And he would never leave the store either."
"Who the hell is Noah?"
Alex's throat constricts at the question. "My uncle."
Something unreadable flashes across Dean's face, and it's gone before she can properly study it. "I think you're just being paranoid."
"Well if you think everything is fine, you can always fucking leave," Alex is quick to remind him, her voice harsh even though she whispers the words.
Dean, in turn, only grunts but he surprisingly makes no move to leave. He doesn't pocket his gun, either and instead only continues to move through the shop.
It takes them all of five minutes to search the front of the store, with nothing but the empty stacks and the coloured spines of the books greeting them. Alex walks up and down every aisle at least three times and double-checks behind the desk and glances out the windows and onto the street, but there's no hide or hair of Noah anywhere. With every second that ticks her worry for her uncle and his unknown whereabouts grows, but she is quick to remind herself that they have yet to check out the back. There's every chance that he could be out there, looking over some of the books that he could never put out here.
With a sigh, Dean straightens up and lowers the hand with the gun in it to his side. "Well, I hate to break it to you, Queenie, but there's no one out here."
She scowls at the nickname- clearly, it's going to stick. "No shit, sherlock," she lowly deadpans, before nodding her head to the door behind the counter. "But that doesn't mean that there isn't someone out there."
He turns towards the door in question, before letting out an annoyed huff and raising the gun again. "Ladies first, then."
She suppresses an eye roll but is quick to move forward and behind the counter, reaching down and slowly twisting the doorknob. She pushes the door open a crack so that she is able to peer down the poorly lit and empty hallway that leads to three other rooms in the back of the building, and deciding that the coast is clear, she pulls the door open the entire way before quietly advancing forward. She can feel Dean following after her, his breath fanning across the back of her neck from how close he is behind her, and she's very tempted to elbow him away. But before she gets the chance, a voice calls out from the end room at the opposite end of the hall;
"It's not in here!"
"Then try that box over there!"
She momentarily freezes. Two voices. Male. American accents.
Definitely not Noah.
The closer that she and Dean draw closer to the room, the more that she is able to hear; whoever these people are, they're searching for something. She can hear them rummaging through boxes and knocking into shelves, tossing about objects- likely books- that land with heavy thumps on the floor as they continue to bicker with one another.
"It's not here either."
"Just keep looking!"
"We've searched this whole store from back to front now, and we still haven't found the stupid thing. I'm telling you, it's not here!"
"You wanna leave? Be my guest. But if you go back empty-handed, then the boss isn't going to be happy."
"Would you two morons just shut up?" A third voice interjects, causing Alex's stomach to drop; they're outnumbered. "No one's leaving until we find the damn thing. So stop bickering like a bunch of teenage girls, and get back to fucking work."
At this point, the two hunters reach the end of the hall and stop just short of the door leading into the third room and they silently flatten their backs against the grey wall. With Alex standing closest to the edge of the open door, she carefully tilts her head around the corner just enough so that she can look into the room without being detected. It's the one that Noah uses to store most of his volumes and texts on the supernatural, with boxes and shelves stacked high in the open air, the scent of old books and ink sitting in the back of her throat.
Three men who she has never seen before in her life stand in the middle of the room, books both in their hands and scattered in messy piles on the floor around them. The piles only continue to grow as they pull books from the shelves and boxes, their eyes scanning over the covers and their fingers flipping through the first few pages before carelessly tossing them over their shoulders and moving on to the next ones.
So, it's a book that they're after. Her first instinct is that they are hunters. Noah occasionally gets a few showing up on the front steps of the store searching for something that can give them some insight on whatever unusual creature that they might be hunting. But Noah should be here to help them find the right book. And he would never let them out back, under no circumstances whatsoever.
The man standing closest to the door- who is middle-aged, bald and dressed in a red flannel- curses as he throws yet another book to the side. "This is wasting our time. I say we go back to the house and force the old man to tell us. Bet he'd sing like a canary once he's lost a kidney or two-"
"No one touches the old man until we get our hands on the book," the tallest one snaps, rounding on the first man- who Alex decides to dub Flannel- with a sharp look. Judging from his authoritative tone and the way that Flannel shrinks back, Alex is quick to jump to the conclusion that he is the leader of the small group.
"Once we've got our hands on it, you can do whatever you want to him. String him up and rip his insides out, cut his ears off- I don't care. But until then, he stays put together. You hear me?"
Flannel quickly nods his head. But the third member of the group- the youngest of the lot with beach-blonde hair sleeked back from his face- steps forward and clears his throat. "Look, Duke, maybe he's on to something. I ain't saying that we kill the guy, but cutting off a finger or two might be just enough incentive to make Donovan cooperate."
She had initially feared that it had been Noah they were referring to this entire time, but this last sentence turns that fear into a reality. She has to slam a hand over her mouth to stop the gasp that threatens to slip past it, and even Dean curses under his breath beside her. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him bring the gun up to his chest, his fingers readjusting on the grip as he prepares to use it.
The third man- Duke, scratches his chin thoughtfully at Blondie's words before giving a nod of his head. "Alright. Alright, I see your point. Fine. We'll head back to the house and put Donovan through the wringer. But we're not killing him yet, you understand?"
Her legs carry her through the open door before she thinks. She raises the gun and aims it forward, teeth bared as she seethes, "You're not going anywhere."
The three men turn to her in surprise, and they raise their hands in the air when Dean joins her. Flannel and Blondie take a small step back, but Duke stands firmly in place, not backing down. Eyeing the guns in their hands, he surprisingly smirks as he says, "Didn't realise that we had company. You must be little Alex Donovan."
She hopes that her face doesn't betray how his words unsettle her. "Where's Noah?"
"He's alive, for now. But trust me when I say you'd be doing him a favour if you don't pull that trigger, sweetheart."
"You tell me where I can find him, and I might consider it."
"You don't want to do this."
Dean scoffs. "Yeah, actually, I think we do."
Duke's smirk widens and he blinks his eyes. When they reopen, Alex is both started and alarmed to see that they are pitch black staring coldly at her. Flannel and Blondie are quick to do the same, smug grins staining their faces as they too reveal their black orbs.
Demons. All three of them. The guns would be absolutely useless now. They'd slow them down at most, but wouldn't be enough to take one down.
"You sure about that?" Duke taunts.
Alex tries her best not to succumb to panic. Two of them verses three demons- and that's assuming that there aren't any waiting for them outside. The odds aren't in their favour and from the sound of it, Noah's life is on the line. Fear grips her heart in a tight vice at the thought.
"What the hell do you want?" She bites out through gritted teeth.
"Well, it's simple really," Duke says, shoving his hands in his pocket, and slowly walking over to a box filled with books. The end of Alex's and Dean's guns follow his every step, but the demon pays them no attention as he picks up a random book from the pile. "See, we're after a book- or a journal to be more specific. An old one, leather-bound, belonging to a certain hunter that goes by the name Fredrick Stevenson. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"
"Nope. Sorry. Can't help you."
"That's unfortunate," Duke pouts. "Looks like we'll have to be more persuasive when we talk to that uncle of yours again."
"In case you didn't hear the lady, you're not going anywhere," Dean snaps, his voice unwavering. "Tell us where her uncle is or-"
"Or what?" Flannel sneers, taking a step forward and ignoring the look of warning that Duke sends him. "You hunters, full of all your fake fucking bravado. You can't do a single damn thing to us, and you know it. Tell us where the journal is, or I cut out your uncle's tongue and make him eat it-"
Alex pulls the trigger.
There's a bang followed by Dean jumping beside her, and Flannel lets out a displeased cry as the bullet tears through his chest leaving an open, red hole in its wake. He steps back from the force of it but doesn't go down as any human would.
"Seriously!?" Dean angrily hisses. She can only imagine the dirty look that he is sending her right now, but she doesn't care.
Duke drops the book and sends the guns flying from their hands with a simple wave of his, and the two hunters can only watch helplessly as they land on the other side of the room. Before they can make a move to retrieve them, the three demons start to rush towards them and Alex raises up her hands. Looks like this would be handled the old-fashioned way then.
Blondie stalks towards her while the other two make a move on Dean, conceiving him as the bigger threat because of his size. The smirk on Blondie's face widens as he approaches Alex with raised fists indicates that he thinks that this fight will be easy.
He has another thing coming.
She easily swats the punch swung her way before retaliating with one of her own. He reels back as her fist connects with his jaw, and she is quick to bring the arm back up in an arch so that she can elbow him in the face. Blood spurts from his mouth as he lets out a guttural cry and raises his hands to his mouth, leaving his middle unguarded and giving her ample opportunity to raise her leg to snap kick him in the gut, sending him falling to the ground in an instant. He hits the ground hard and dazed, his black eyes drooping as he spits blood from his mouth. She feels immense satisfaction at the sight.
Flannel, who had been helping Duke deal with Dean, notices his fallen friend and changes direction so that he is charging towards her. His arms stretch forward as if to grab her, but she ducks under them at the last second and wounds her arms around his shoulder. Using his momentum, she bends at the knees before pushing up, catching him entirely by surprise as she hurls him through the air where he hits the wall with a bang, his body sliding down in a crumpled heap to the ground. The string of curses and pained groans informs her that he's still conscious, and she beings to stalk forward with the intention of finishing the job-
Something tackles into her hard and fast, knocking her off her feet and she lands flat on the ground hard enough to have the wind knocked out of her. As she lays there gasping, Blondie suddenly appears above her, an angry sneer on his lips as he pins her down with his legs. She raises her arms to try and shove him off her, but he grabs her flailing hands at the wrist, gripping them tightly in one hand.
"Fucking bitch," he growls, before jerking her hands to the side to leave her face open.
The first blow hits her the hardest, and her head snaps to the side from the force of it. Stars dance before her eyes which are quick to well with tears, but Blondie's second blow is still brutal enough to cause an explosive pain to spread across her face. Beyond the sudden ringing in her ears, she can hear curses and objects being thrown about as Dean fights off the other two, but her vision is too blurry for her to see whether or not he is winning.
She accidentally bites her tongue on the third strike and immediately feels blood gush from the wound and fill her mouth. As Blondie raises his hand for a fourth, she turns her head and spits in his face, the blood hitting square in the mouth. He grunts with disgust and his grip on her hands loosens significantly. Wrenching a hand free, she swipes at his face, her fingers digging deep into the skin of his flesh and leaving three, jagged red lines in their wake.
He screams and reels back, clutching at his bleeding face with his hands while Alex feels him shift his weight from her. It's enough for her to wriggle back before lurching up and jabbing him in his throat, as hard and as fast as a snake striking its prey.
It's his turn to gasp for air now, and he pulls away from her entirely. She shuffles back and begins to pull herself up to her feet as he stands shakily upright, his hands still hovering over the fresh cuts. Still in a crouch, she braces her hands against the floor before extending her leg and using it to knock his out from underneath him, moving out of the way as he tumbles to the ground in a moaning mess.
At the sound of a muffled cry from across the room, she turns to see that Dean and Duke have each other locked in a tight chokehold, their faces red and strained as they refuse to relent their grip on the other. She moves to help him but stops as Dean headbutts Duke squarely in the face, causing the demon to stagger back. The hunter is quick to hit the demon in the face and knee him in the crotch, before grabbing his arms and swinging him around, sending him soaring through the air until he crashes into a stack, the shelves and books breaking on impact.
Alex blinks. He's good, she'll give him that.
Flannel, having seemingly recovered from his collision with the wall earlier, tries to use Dean's distraction to his advantage and charges towards the unsuspecting hunter in the middle of the room. Without thinking, Alex reaches for the closest thing- a book- and hurls it forward. It sails through the air and hits Flannel in the back of the head, causing him to go crashing head over heels to the ground, landing in front of a surprised Dean's feet. He glances from Flannel to Alex and back again, before the corner of his lips turn down and his brows raise approvingly. "Not bad."
She ignores the compliment as she pulls herself to her feet. This doesn't last, as no sooner does she straighten up, a pair of arms suddenly grab her shoulders and fling her backwards, where she lands in the middle of a pile of empty boxes. They spiral out in all directions and fall on top of her, making it difficult for Alex to work her way to her feet once again. As she hunches on all fours, a swift kick is delivered to her side, causing her to choke and almost topple over, but a hand grabbing a fistful of her hair prevents her from doing so. As she is dragged into the middle of the room by Duke, she uses one hand to dig her nails into his hand, while using the other to feebly flail about, searching for another book to use-
She smiles almost sadistically when her hands find a vial of holy water. No longer bothering to claw at Duke's hand, she unscrews the vial and spills its contents all over the demon, whose skin hisses and sizzles at the contact.
He screams and releases her in an instant, and she hastily stands up, hands clenched and ready for the next swing-
"Behind you!"
She drops the vial with a clatter at Dean's shouted warning, and manages to wrap her hands around Blondie's wrist before he has a chance to dig the sharp and pointed knife in his hands into her flesh. The look on his bloodstained face is almost feral as he desperately tries to wrench his arm free from her grasp, but she twists so that her back is towards him and uses her hand to knock the knife so that it falls to the ground. She then flings her head back and grins when the back of her skull makes contact with his nose with a sickening crack, causing the demon to howl and release her, stumbling back as blood gushes from his nostrils at an alarming pace.
"ENOUGH!"
An invisible force pins Alex to a row of shelves, and seconds later, Dean is thrown across the room to land beside her with a painful smash. He grunts as his head hits the wall at an angle, but Alex can't turn to see whether or not he has been knocked unconscious. Her entire body from the tips of her toes to the hairs on the top of her head are trapped beneath an invisible hold, forcing her to look forward at Duke, who stands in the middle of the room with both arms raised and stretched towards her and Dean, making him responsible for their current predicament.
The skin on the back of his hand still sizzles, and the look on his face surpasses anger. "I tried playing nice," he snarls, while the bruised and bloody Flannel and Blondie make their way to his side. "Tell us where the journal is. Now."
Dean spits. "Bite me, dickbag."
"We don't know anything about your journal," Alex seethes. Every one of her muscles is taut beneath the telekinetic hold, screaming at her to move and beat the three demons bloody until they reveal wherever it is that they're holding Noah. The frustration of not being able to do so wells up inside of her, but she refuses to break. "So stick it up your ass."
"Looks like we have a problem then," Duke replies, his hold on them unrelenting. "See, we can't leave this town and show up to our boss empty-handed."
"Your boss. Who the hell is that?"
"Never you mind. Tell you what. We'll let you go-"
"How fucking kind of you."
"- so that you can run on home and figure out where the journal is. Once you have it, you bring it to us at 516 Howitt St by eight o'clock. You come alone and with no other funny business, otherwise, you can kiss your precious little uncle goodbye."
She blanches at the words, which doesn't go unnoticed by Dean beside her. Glaring at the demon, he snaps, "She already told you she doesn't know about the damn journal-"
"Well, she better figure something out quick. Because the boys and I are gonna have to entertain ourselves somehow, and the longer it takes, the more painful it's gonna be for Noah Donovan."
And with that, he nods his head towards the door. Flannel is quick to get the message and retreat but Blondie marches forward towards a defenceless Alex, who can only glare daggers down at the demon as he comes to a stop in front of her. His face is half covered in blood from his broken nose and the gashes lined on his cheek, and the look in his dark eyes is filled to the brim with hatred. As Alex glowers, he rears his hand back before slamming it harshly in her gut, knocking the air out of her for the second time that day. She spasms and coughs, pain exploding in her side as she feebly tries to curl in on herself, but to no avail; Duke's hold on her is too strong.
"That's for my face," Blondie says, his lips curling as he shoots her one last heated look, before Flannel out the door. Duke moves to follow after them but at a slower pace, keeping his arms up and Dean and Alex pinned to the shelves.
"515 Howitt St, eight o'clock sharp. Tick tock," he taunts, before dropping his arms and darting out into the hall and disappearing from sight.
The hunters land on the ground with a crash, Alex still sputtering from Blondie's hit. She rolls over and is dimly aware of Dean muttering something to her as he pulls himself to his feet but she pays him no attention. All her mind can focus on is an image of Noah, torn and bloody in some dark room somewhere, tied down and beaten while a bunch of demons mock and torture him, laughing gleefully as they do. She squeezes her eyes shut to ward the image off, but his pained screams still ring in her ears like the chime of a bell.
Figure out where the journal is. Eight o'clock sharp. Tick tock.
Journal. What journal?
They have Noah. And she doesn't know about the damn thing that will help him.