September 23rd, 2008
Sioux Falls, South Dakota

Three days had passed since they had returned from Pontiac, and Alex found herself facing what had unfortunately become a familiar sight. Bobby was in the library, his nose buried in a book, while Sam and Dean argued loudly from within the kitchen. Alex watched them wearily from the corner of her eye; she was still nursing bruises from her last encounter with Sam Winchester. Weaving in between the cars had been the only thing that had kept her two feet ahead of him, and it had only ended when she had tripped over a piece of scrap metal and face-planted into the side of a car; she now sported a black eye and a large bruise on the back of her thigh from where Sam had tripped over her.

"Look. All I know is I was not groped by an angel." Dean's sharp, agitated voice had Alex frowning. The Winchester was standing in front of his brother, who was looking just as frustrated.

"Okay, look, Dean. Why do you think this Castiel would lie to us about it?" Sam looked up at his brother from his seat at the table, and for a brief moment his gaze flickered over to her; Alex jerked her head away to avoid his stare.

"Maybe he's some kind of demon."

Alex scoffed at the very idea, and Sam's eyes widened at the suggestion. "A demon who's immune to salt rounds and devil's traps and Ruby's knife?" He threw his hands up in exasperation, his voice tense and thin. "Dean, Lilith is scared of this thing."

Dean picked up a cold slice of leftover pizza from the counter, and, after giving it a half-hearted sniff, tossed it back into the greasy cardboard box. "Demons lie."

Alex finally spoke up, removing the icepack from her eye and sliding it underneath her leg to press up against her thigh. "Dude, everyone here can see it except you," she snapped "I mean, I've been trying to tell you it wasn't a demon since the moment you came back. Castiel isn't lying. I can see why you don't believe him, but I've never lied to you."

Dean let out an angry scoff as he shot her a dark glare. "What do you mean you've never lied to me? You told me I wasn't going to die!"

"Hey." The girl held up her hands defensively. "I told you that I'd see you around. And voila, here we are." She motioned to the room around them. "Technically not lying."

Dean started at her for a second, but couldn't seem to find a chink in her argument worth pursuing. "Okay, then, fine, tell me this," he said instead. "If angels were real, don't you think some hunter would have seen one, once, at some point? Ever?" He leaned up against the sink and crossed his arms.
"Yeah," Sam agreed. "You just did, Dean."

His brother let out a long, frustrated sigh. "I'm trying to come up with a theory here. Work with me."

"We have a theory," Alex reminded, and she drew her legs up onto the chair to cross them, ignoring the pointed look the oldest Winchester threw her way.

"Yeah, one with a little less fair dust, please."

"Okay, look." Alex could tell that Sam was trying his hardest not to get worked up. "I'm not saying we know anything for sure, I'm just saying that ..."

"Okay, okay." Dean interrupted his brother. "That's the point. We don't know for sure, so I'm not going to believe that this thing is a freaking angel of the Lord because it says so!"

" 'This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith.' " Alex quickly parroted back Castiel's words, followed by a smile as Dean threw her another dark look.

"You chuckleheads gonna keep arguing about religion, or do you want to come take a look at this?" Bobby Singer broke into their arguing, and Alex turned her head to peer at him in the study. He had been silent through the midst of their arguing; he must have found something good for him to speak up now.

Alex got to her feet and began to make her way over to the old hunter, but cried out in protest when she was roughly shoved out of the way by Dean. "Hey!" she snapped, and Sam echoed her with an angry, "Dean!" He followed his brother into the study, and Alex trailed sullenly behind; on the bright side, their argument had temporarily left her in Sam's good favor.

Bobby looked up from his book as Dean came to stop in front of him. "Watch it, boy," he scolded. Dean's only response was a low, angry exhale. Alex moved to settle herself over Bobby's shoulder as he glanced between the two brothers. "I've got tons of lore," he began. "Biblical, pre-Biblical, some of it's in damn cuneiform. It all says that an angel can snatch a soul out of the pit." Bobby spun the book around so that Dean and Sam could see for themselves.

"What else?" Dean asked, and Alex leaned forward to study the colorful picture drawn on the left hand page.

"What else what?" Bobby repeated.

"What else could do it?" The Winchester self-consciously rubbed his hand where Castiel's handprint had been branded.

"Airlift your ass out of the hotbox? As far as I can tell, nothing." Bobby shrugged, and Alex made a small noise that clearly meant, 'I told you so.'

It largely went ignored by the two Winchesters. "Dean, this is good news." Sam pushed the book back towards Bobby as he looked up at his brother.

Dean scoffed. "How?"

"Because for once, this isn't just another round of demon crap. I mean, maybe you were saved by one of the good guys, you know?"

Dean still didn't look convinced. "Okay," he slowly began. "Say it's true. Say there are angels. Then what? There's a God?" He looked between his three companions, doubt darkening his green eyes.

Alex gave a small nod, while Bobby merely shrugged. "At this point, Vegas money's on yeah," he agreed.

Dean shook his head. "I don't know guys —"
"Okay, look." Sam turned to face his brother as he cut him off mid-sentence. "I know you're not all choirboy about this stuff, but it's becoming less and less about faith and more and more about proof."

"Proof?" Dean repeated skeptically.

"Yeah."

"Proof that there's a God out there who actually gives a crap about me personally?" Dean finished. "I'm sorry, but I'm not buying it."

Alex narrowed her eyes. "Why not?" she asked, head tipping to one side as she met the Winchester's gaze.

"Because why me?" he retorted. "If there's a God out there, why would he give a crap about me?"

"Dean ..." Sam started, but Dean didn't stop.

"I mean, I've saved some people, okay? I figured that made up for the stealing and the ditching chicks. But why do I deserve to be saved? I'm just a regular guy."

Alex nodded, and she sat down on the corner of the desk. "Yeah, a regular guy who's important to the man upstairs."

"Well, that just creeps me out. I mean, I don't like getting singled out at birthday parties, much less by ... God." Dean trailed off slightly, and his gaze flitted uncomfortably across the room.

"Okay, well, that's just too bad, Dean, because I think that he wants you to strap on your party hat."

Alex visibly winced at Sam's words. "Ooh the pain," she joked. "Please never repeat that again. I'm serious," she added, locking her gaze with Sam's. He rolled his eyes and turned away.

She wasn't sure what did it, but something Sam said had caused a change in Dean's demeanor; whether it was reluctant acceptance or surrender, she didn't know. "Fine." He turned back to Bobby and sat down in one of the chairs. "What do we know about angels?"

In response, Bobby reached over and dropped a stacks in front of him. "Start reading."

Dean turned to his brother. "You're gonna get me some pie." He didn't wait for Sam to protest before he turned back and picked up the top book.

Sam's nostrils flared, but all he said was, "Fine," as he rose to his feet and took the keys from Dean's extended hand.

Alex perked up at the prospect of getting away from the inevitable nightmare of reading. "Can I come?"

"No." Sam moved off towards the door, and Alex raised an eyebrow when he glanced back at her. "And stop looking at me like you know what I'm going to do," he snapped.

The young girl blinked. "But I do know what you're going to do," she insisted as innocently as she could. She watched Sam storm out of the house, finally turning away when she heard the door close loudly behind him. "Jerk," she muttered under her breath, and she grabbed a book as she settled down on the couch by the window.

...

Alex rubbed her tired eyes, watching as the words swam on the pages. She wasn't sure how long she had sat there on that couch; long enough to pretend to read several books and toss around a few half-formed theories with Dean and Bobby. She uncurled from her position with a low groan, which was immediately followed by a second groan, this one of relief, as her legs finally got to stretch out in front of her.

Her movements spurred Bobby to stir from where he sat; he closed his book and got to his feet, passing Dean on the way to the kitchen. Alex listened as he took one of the phones off of its hooks and dialed a number. Apparently no one answered, because after a minute, he swore under his breath and hung up. Dean looked up as the old hunter re-entered the study. "What's wrong?"

"I've been trying to contact this hunter; name's Olivia — I figured she could help with this whole angel thing. But I haven't heard from her in three days. I think we should go check on her. She's only a few hours out."

Dean gave a small nod. "Okay." He put down his book and stood up, arms reaching high above his head as he stretched. "Once Sam gets back, we'll head out." He looked over at Alex as the young girl perked up, and his lips set into a thin line. "Not you, though. You're staying here."

Alex pulled an offended face at the Winchester's bluntness. "Fine, be like that." She crossed her arms. "If you don't want my help, just say so."

"I don't want your help." Dean looked the girl up and down, and added, "How old are you anyways?"

Bobby immediately answered for her. "Seventeen."

"Technically eighteen," Alex hurried to add. "I mean, considering I showed three months ago in May, but I had originally been in December and I was born in January ..." She trailed off, her own convoluted explanation only confusing her more.

By the look on Dean's face, it hadn't made any more sense to him. "You know what, I don't really care." He looked up at the sound of the Impala pulling up alongside the house. "Just, just stay put and stay out of trouble, okay?"

Alex huffed, running her hand through her blonde hair. "No promises," she muttered as Dean left, and she caught Bobby's eye. He cast her a sympathetic look before he followed Dean out of the house; the young girl ignored it. If he really felt bad about it, he easily could have spoken up.

She watched the two cars drive away down the dusty old driveway before she kicked her most current stack of books onto the ground. She hated being left behind.

The young girl rose to her feet and made her way outside, fingers curling deep within her sweatshirt as a chilly breeze swept past. "Hey, uh, Cas?" she called out hopefully. "Castiel? It's Alex. I, uh, I know you're busy and all, but if you're not too busy, I'd love to talk with you." She paused, waiting for a response, but nothing came. "Well, okay." Alex turned away as her face fell in disappointment. "Anytime you can get away, then."

"What do you want?" A deep, familiar voice came from behind her, and Alex spun around to face Castiel. The angel looked exactly as he had before; twisted tie, tan coat, dark, tousled hair. His brilliant blue eyes studied her curiously, even though his face remained as expressionless as ever.

"Oh, uh, hey, Cas." The words came out in a stammer, and Alex took a moment to steady her surprised voice.

"Castiel," the angel corrected.

"Yeah. Castiel." The girl cleared her throat awkwardly as she echoed back his full name. "That's what I meant."

She fell quiet, and Castiel's head tipped as the silence lengthened. "Why did you want to talk to me?" he finally prompted. "Is there something wrong?"

Alex gave a small shrug at his words. "Not really. I was bored — Winchesters left me behind. I just thought we could talk a bit," she added when Castiel's face remained blank. "So, um … how's everything going?"

"I've been very busy." If the angel's words were meant to be pointed, his tone certainly didn't show it.

"Oh. Right, sorry." Alex blinked in apology; she had been trying to ease her way into her big question, but she could see small talk wasn't going to work. "Straight to the point, then. Why am I here? How am I here? Because I have absolutely no idea, and, well, I know your garrison is in charge of watching over the Earth and all, so I thought … maybe you guys saw something?"

An emotion flitted across Castiel's face, gone too quick for her to pin it down. "What do you know about my garrison?" he asked, his blue eyes searching her face for answers.

"Well, I, uh, I know you're in charge-ish," Alex started, and she quickly started listing off any facts that she could remember. "Zachariah is your boss. Then there's Balthazar, and, um, what was their names? Hestor and … Isaiah? Something like that."

"Inais."

"Inais. Right." Alex nodded; that was probably it. "I know a few other angel's names. Samandriel, Michael, Gabriel, Lucifer — if you still count him as an angel, of course — Raphael, Uriel." The girl looked down at her fingers as she listed them off. "Probably a few more."

When she looked up, she saw suspicion darkening the angel's eyes. "How much do you know?" he asked, squinting as he studied her carefully.

"Enough." Alex took a few steps to her left and sat down on the rusted hood of a sedan, casually crossing her arms as she braced herself for a round of questions.

Castiel turned his head to follow her, but his body stayed facing its original direction. "You knew about the seals," he stated. "So then you know about Lucifer."

"Yup. I know about him and Michael, and how Gabriel fled because he couldn't stand to watch them fight. I know that no one's seen God for a very long time. But mostly I know about you." Alex straightened up as she confidently met Castiel's gaze. "I know who you are, and who you are going to become. Now, what about me? You never answered my question."

Castiel ignored her. "How do you know so much?" he persisted, and Alex waved him off.

"I'll explain another time," she half-promised. "You first. What happened to me?"

The angel took a moment to blink. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "No one knows. But I was there, when you hit that car. I saw you fall from the sky."

Alex's eyebrows rose at the news, and she slid down off of the hood of the car. "You were there?" she repeated. "How? How did you know?"

"We were … made aware that something would happen." Castiel's answer was cryptic, yet honest, and he held her gaze, unblinking, as the young girl approached him. "However, I didn't know what was going to happen, nor why it did. Unfortunately, we know no more than you do." The angel paused, and his eyes turned upwards towards the clouds. "I must go. My garrison needs me."

Alex heaved a sigh. "Yeah, I guess they do," she reluctantly agreed. "Well, hopefully we can talk again soon."

"I agree." Castiel gave a curt nod, and then he was suddenly gone, vanishing into thin air. His disappearance sent a gust of wind swirling through the air, and Alex screwed up her eyes against it. Once again she was alone, bored, and left with even more questions than what she had started with.

...

The rest of the day ticked by slowly. Very slowly. Alex paced around the house like a caged animal, unable to settle down. Around dinnertime, she nibbled on the lukewarm pizza that was still sitting on the counter, mind racing as the tried to remember exactly what was happening in the lives of Sam and Dean, but little else came to mind. With a sigh, the young girl resigned herself to the fact that she had remembered everything she could for the time being.

Finally, as the sun was beginning to set, she heard a car pull up to the house. Alex ran over to the nearest window to see Bobby get out of his truck and walk up to the house. The front door opened, and a voice called out, "Alex?"

"Yeah?" The girl hurried into the kitchen. "What's up? You find Olivia?" She leaned up against the doorframe as Bobby dropped his gun onto the counter.

"You could say that." He sat down at the crowded wooden table, and Alex frowned at his words, and as the silence lengthened, she prompted him with a puzzled hum. "Olivia's dead." Bobby leaned back in his chair so he could look her in the eyes. "I took the liberty of checking on a couple other hunters nearby. Jed and Carl. They're both dead, too."

Alex's eyebrows knitted together in confusion and sympathy. "That's terrible. I'm sorry." She rested her head against the doorframe as her shoulders fell. She had met Jed a few times; he was nice.

"Yeah, well, that's what happens with hunters." Bobby stood up and crossed over to the fridge to pull out a beer. "You got any idea of what killed them? Because we're stumped over here."

"Sorry." Alex gave a small shake of her head. "I've been trying to remember, but I've got nothing. Got any sort of info that could help me out?"

"There were salt lines and EMF everywhere we went, which lends itself towards a vengeful spirit, but …" Bobby shook his head. "What kind of spirit goes after three capable hunters like that?"

The young girl bit her lip, racking her brain for any sort of information. "Well, it sounds familiar, which is a good sign. That means that somewhere up here," she tapped her head, "I've got the answer …" She trailed off when Bobby slipped past her into the study, and she realized that he wasn't listening to her anymore. She turned to watch him dig through a pile of old books. "What are you looking for?"

"I'll know it when I find it." Bobby dropped two books onto the couch and flipped through a third. "Cause no offense, but you knowing that you know something doesn't do squat."

"Sorr-yy." Alex grabbed a book and dropped onto the couch. "Just trying my best." She glanced out the dark window behind her before turning back to the dimly lit study. "You know, even after four months, this house still creeps me out."

Bobby didn't respond.

"It's just so dark and cluttered," she continued. "Especially at night."

"Are you going to keep jabbering all night, or are you gonna help me?" Bobby snapped. As he spoke, the lights flickered, and both looked up in surprise. Alex felt goosebumps run up her arm, and when she exhaled, her breath clung to the air. The radio suddenly turned on, and, Alex watched Bobby walked over to the stairs as a small ball rolled down to stop at his feet. She jumped up as he hurried back into the study and motioned her over to the fireplace. He picked up an iron poker and stepped in front of her, a hand going out when she tried to peer around him. "Oh." Alex sucked in a deep breath as the air by the stairs flickered, and two young girls appeared, standing side by side. "I remember this."

Bobby swung the poker as one of the girls surged forward. It sliced through her midsection, and she disappeared. "Well, I'm listening."

Alex darted forward to grab a crowbar that had been leaning up against the desk. "Yeah, slight problem. I'm still not totally sure what's going on." She backpedalled until she was back-to-back with Bobby, and her grey eyes flickered around the dark room. "

"Well, hurry up and figure it out."

"I'm working on it!" One of the girls appeared in front of Alex, and she reeled back instinctively, the crowbar flying out and passing through her neck. The girl vanished, but only a few seconds later appeared suddenly at Alex's left side. She began to turn, but a dark force collided with her, sending her flying across the room. She struggled to her feet, head spinning, but before she could regain her footing, she was once again tossed into the air. She hit the fireplace, striking her head against the brick. The world swam as she sunk to the ground, and then everything went black.

...

When Alex came to, it was day. She winced at the brightness, and as her eyes adjusted, Sam's concerned face came into focus. The Winchester was bent over her, hazel eyes searching her face as she came back into the waking world. "Dean!" he called. "Alex, are you okay?"

Memories crashed over her, and Alex sat up with a start. "Bobby?" she called, and she cried out at the sharp, pulsing pain in her her head.

"He's not here." Alex squinted to make out Dean, who stood a few feet off, a gun in his hands. "What the hell happened here?"

"There were two girls. Girl-ghosts. Ghost girls." Alex let Sam help her up onto the couch, mumbling incoherently to herself as she tried to remember. "They just appeared, and — and …" Her gaze came to rest on the iron poker that lay on the ground, and she trailed off.

Sam and Dean exchanged silent looks over her head. "I'll check upstairs," Dean finally said. "You guys look outside." He hurried out of the study, and Alex heard the stairs creak under his weight as he ascended.

"Maybe you should stay here," Sam suggested, but Alex shook her head.

"I'm fine," she promised, rising to her feet; the shakiness in her legs suggested otherwise, and she prayed that the Winchester wouldn't notice. She bent down to pick up the iron poker before motioning to the crowbar that lay by the desk. "Take that. Let's go."

Sam picked up the crowbar and led the way out the back door, and Alex slowly followed him outside. The bright sunlight disoriented her concussed brain, and she had to pause beside a stack of rusted cars to steady herself. She ran a hand over her forehead; when she pulled it away, it was caked in dried blood. "Are you sure you're okay?" Sam glanced back at her, and Alex brushed the blood off on her jeans.

"Yeah, of course," she promised. "I'm fine." She gripped the iron rod tighter in her hands as she unsteadily made her way back to Sam. "Bobby?" she called out, and she cautiously checked the backseat of an old truck.

"Bobby!" Sam's breath hung visibly in the air as he yelled out the hunter's name. He motioned for Alex to move closer, and the young girl needed no more prompting, staying close on his tail as they wove their way through the cars. "Bobby, are you here?" Sam started prying open trunks with his crowbar, and Alex immediately joined in, straying from the Winchester in an attempt to cover more ground. She was halfway through jimmying one open when she heard her name being yelled. "Alex!" Sam pointed up towards a stack of old rusty trucks. "Stay here," he instructed as he started to scale them. "Bobby?" he yelled again. "Hang on, Bobby, I'm coming!"

"Is he up there?" Alex tipped her head in confusion, but she didn't question Sam's instructions; her head still swam, and the last thing she wanted to do was climb a pile of rust. She watched as he pried off a rusty door near the top of the stack, and a rush of terror ran up her spine as Sam was suddenly thrown backwards by an invisible force.

He hit the hood of a car below, the wind knocked out of him, and the ghostly figure of a girl flickered as it landed on top of him, its pale hands gripping his throat. Alex rushed forward and swung her weapon, and the spirit disappeared with a screech. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Y-Yeah." Sam lay still for a moment, catching his breath, before he allowed Alex to help him back up. The car frames creaked, and Alex looked up to see the second ghost leaning out the truck; it disappeared a second later as Bobby thrust a crowbar through it.

"Bobby!" Alex shouted his name, and the old hunter's eyes turned onto her. His chest was heaving as he drew in deep breaths, and after a second, he slowly began climbing down.

"You okay?" he asked, and Alex watched as his gaze moved up to her bloody forehead.

"Yeah, I'm okay," she promised. "Concussion, most likely, but I'm fine. Those ghosts — why'd they go after you and leave me?"

"No idea." Bobby turned to Sam with a small shrug, and then he looked around the salvage yard, a small frown on his face. "Where's Dean?"

"He's looking for you in the house," Sam explained.

"Well, go get him." Bobby shook his head as Sam hurried off towards the house. "Idjit," he muttered under his breath before he followed, Alex close at his tail. "Glad you're okay, by the way."

"Yeah. Right back at you." Alex opened the back door and moved into the house. "Sam?" she called, making her way into the study. "Dean?"

"Bobby?" Footsteps pounded down the stairs, and a few seconds later Dean hurried into view. Alex stepped aside to let the older hunter step into view, and Dean's green eyes flashed in relief. "Are you okay?"

"As good as ever." Bobby placed his crowbar on his desk before turning back to Sam and Dean. "About time you guys showed up."

"Sorry. We ran into a vengeful spirit of our own," Sam explained quietly, and Alex tipped her head, curious by his words. Even more vengeful spirits? So many in a short span of time couldn't be a coincidence.

Bobby turned to her, and, seeing the pensive expression upon her face, asked, "Well? You got all this figured out yet?"

The young girl thought for one more second before she answered. If it wasn't a coincidence, then there wasn't much else it could be. "Yeah, I think so." She turned to Sam and Dean. "Who exactly did you run into?"

"Hendrickson. He was an FBI agent."

"And Meg," Dean put in. "Or, at least, the poor girl she was possessing. She was upstairs," he explained when Sam gave him a sharp look of surprise, and he limped over to the black couch, shot gun in hand.

Sam frowned, but he didn't push his brother for any more details. "Okay, so these are all people we knew."

"They're all people you couldn't save," Alex corrected. "Right. Yeah, I know what's going on. Did any of you notice some sort of mark — like a brand — on them?" Both Sam and Dean nodded, and Alex scrambled through the desk to find a black sheet of paper. "Can you draw it?"

"Yeah, sure." Sam joined her at the desk, and his pen scratched against the paper as he quickly sketched what he had seen. "There." He handed it to Alex, who in turn passed it to Bobby.

"Look familiar?"

Bobby gave a slow nod. "I may have seen this before. At the very least I know where to start." The lights flickered, and he looked up. "We got to move."

Dean rose to his feet. "Move where?"

"Somewhere safe, you idjit." Bobby grabbed a pile of books and quickly led them down the stairs to the basement. He took a sharp u-turn and led them through a thick iron door guarded by a devil's trap on the floor. A small room lay beyond, its walls made of iron, and another devil's trap lay embedded in the ceiling above their heads. Shelves lined the rounded walls, filled with weapons of every kind, along with provisions, a cot, and even an old radio.

Sam let out a breath of amazement. "Bobby, is this …"

"Solid iron. Completely coated in salt. Hundred percent ghost proof." Bobby closed the door behind them, and it locked with a soft click.

"You build a panic room?" Dean turned to examine a rifle that was leaning against the wall, and he ran his fingers across the wall.

Bobby shrugged. "I had the weekend off."

"Bobby."

"What?"

Dean let out a wide grin, turning back to the old hunter. "You're awesome."

"I know." Bobby set his books down on the small wooden table. "You two start making salt rounds. Alex, you're with me." He sat down in a chair and picked up the first book. Alex glanced over her shoulder to watch the brothers settle on the cot to begin their task, and she sighed as she settled on the floor next to Bobby. "Fine. What exactly are we looking for?" The only response she got was Bobby handing her the picture Sam had drawn. With a sigh, she picked up a book and turned to the first page.

...

They sat in silence for hours — Alex last track of the passing time — the two Winchesters packing salt rounds, Alex and Bobby reading their books. Dean was the first to finally speak up, and the sound of his voice had Alex leaning her head back against the metal wall to watch him. "See, this is why I can't get behind God," he began.

Sam looked over at his brother, and even Bobby looked up from his notes. "What are you talking about?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. "If he doesn't exist, fine. Bad crap happens to good people. That's how it is. There's no rhyme or reason. Just random, horrible, evil. I get it, okay? I can roll with it. But if he's out there, what's wrong with him? Where the hell is he while all these decent people are being torn to shreds. How does he live with himself? Why doesn't he help?"

His question was met with silence. Both Winchesters turned to look at Bobby, who shook his head. "I ain't touching that one with a ten foot pole."

Alex turned back to her book and turned the page. "Problem of evil," she muttered under her breath, skimming through the text.

Dean heard her. "Excuse me?"

"The problem of evil." Alex looked up, her face flushing and her mouth drying out as she faced the hunter. "That's what you were describing. What?" she added, glancing up at Bobby. "I think theology is pretty cool."

"Alright, hot shot. How'd you explain it?" Dean leaned forward, and Alex averted her gaze, letting it fall onto her feet.

"Well," she began quietly, "w-we could talk about free will, or about how, uh, how declaring such a problem implies universal morality, thereby necessitating a God …"

"Found it." Bobby cut into her soft and awkward ramblings, diverting the brother's attention away from her.

Sam leaned forward curiously. "Found what?"

"The symbol you saw." He lifted up the book so all three could see the circular sigil scrawled on the top of the page. "The brand on the ghosts. It's the Mark of the Witness," he added when Alex prompted him with a puzzled hum.

"Witness?" Sam repeated. "Witness to what?"

"The unnatural." Bobby set the book down as he paraphrased his findings. "None of them died what you'd call ordinary deaths. See, these ghosts, they were forced to rise. They woke up in agony; they were like rabid dogs. It ain't their fault. Somebody rose them on purpose."

"Who?"

Bobby scoffed at Dean's question. "Do I look like I know?" The two brothers exchanged looks, and the old hunter added, "But whoever did used a spell so powerful it left a mark — a brand on their souls. Whoever did this had big plans. It's called 'the rising of the witnesses.' It figures into an ancient prophecy." Bobby turned the book as Sam got up and walked over to the table, and Alex scooted out of the way.

"Wait, wait." Dean stood up and joined his brother. "What book is that prophecy from?"

"Well, the widely distributed version's just for tourists, you know. But long story short —"

"Revelations." Alex finished Bobby's sentence. She ran her finger down the pages of the Bible. "Revelations 11 talks about two witnesses who were killed but later came back to life. Doesn't really correlate to what's going on here, but hey; I'll give them creative license." She felt Dean cast her a strange look out of the corner of his eye, but she chose to ignore it.

Bobby nodded in agreement with her assessment. "This is a sign, boys."

Both Sam and Dean spoke in unison. "Of what?"

"The apocalypse."

The iron room fell silent as the two brothers struggled to comprehend what they had just heard. "Apocalypse?" Dean finally repeated. "The apocalypse apocalypse?" He looked between Alex and Bobby, but when neither of them relented, he let out a nervous laugh. "The four horsemen, pestilence, five-dollar-a-gallon gas apocalypse?" He laughed again. Sam simply stood silent, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"Actually, Pestilence is one of the four horsemen …" Alex started to correct him, but she was interrupted by Bobby.

"That's the one," he agreed. "The rise of the witness is a …" Bobby paused, searching for the right words, "a mile marker."

Sam slowly cleared his throat. "Okay, so what do we do now?"

Dean shrugged. "Road trip Grand Canyon, Star Trek Experience." Dean suddenly clapped his hands together loudly, and Alex jumped at the sound. "Bunny Ranch," he added humorously as he walked back over to the cot and sat down. Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's inability to take their situation seriously.

Bobby shared Sam's displeasure. "First things first," he warned before turning to Alex. "How do we survive our friends out there?"

"Any ideas aside from staying in this room until Judgement Day?" Dean added.

Alex ignored his snark, instead rolling her eyes up into her head to think before she looked back up at Bobby. "There should be a spell, right?" She wasn't certain, but the way Bobby had asked her made her question if his words had been a test.

Her suspicions were proven correct when the hunter nodded. "Good; glad we're on the same page." He pointed down to his notes. "I found one that should send the witnesses back to rest. Should work."

"Should," Sam repeated. "Great."

Bobby ignored him. "If I translated everything correctly, we should have everything we need here at the house."

"Any chance you got everything we need here in this room?" Dean asked, but before he had finished his words, Alex knew the answer.

Bobby scoffed. "So you think our luck was gonna start now all of a sudden? Spell's got to be cast over an open fire."

Alex looked over at the closed door, and a shiver passed down her spine at the thought of going back to face the ghosts. "We could start a fire right here," she offered quietly. "It sounds a lot more appealing than going up to the fireplace."

"We don't have all the ingredients. So suit up." Bobby got to his feet and crossed over to the cupboard that housed his collection of shotguns. He handed Alex a sawed-off, and she hesitantly accepted a handful of rounds from Dean. Her hands knew her way around the weapon, and loaded it with ease, but trepidation sat heavily within her stomach. "Cover each other," Bobby instructed as he handed two guns to Sam and Dean. "And aim careful. Don't run out of ammo until I'm done, or they'll shred you, okay?"

"Okay." Alex took up her place behind Sam and Dean, gun firmly held in her hands. She shifted her stance as Bobby opened the door, half expecting the ghosts to be waiting, but the basement was silent. Bobby was the first to exit, waving Alex after him. She followed, the two brothers on her tail.

The basement was silent, almost chillingly so, and the young girl was thankful that she was in the middle of the group, protected on all sides by hunters. She turned to peer behind the stairs when a foreign voice had her jumping in surprise. "Hey, Dean. You remember me?"

A man sat up on the wooden stairs, his cold, dead eyes staring down at the Winchester. He looked familiar, with his thickset form and long, curly hair. Alex searched her fear-gripped mind for a name before Dean spoke. "Ronald, huh?" Dean nodded in remembrance. "With the laser eyes? I wish I could say it was good to see you."

"Cybermen." The name clicked into place, and Alex murmured, "He thought they were were cybermen."

Ronald rose to his feet, and his face twisted with barely controlled rage. "I'm dead because of you! You were supposed to help me —" He disappeared into thin air, but Alex barely noticed, having been distracted by the loud gunshot that had her flinching away from its source.

Bobby paused to reload, his blue eyes catching Dean's. "If you're gonna shoot, shoot. Don't talk." He snapped the barrel of his gun back up to its stock before he slowly led the way up the stairs. They creaked beneath their weight, and, despite having climbing those stairs every day for the past four months, Alex felt her heart pound in the irrational fear of a collapse.

They reached the study, and Bobby immediately set down his gun to pick up a wooden bowl. Sam started laying a salt line around them, their last defense between them and the spirits, and Dean moved behind them to start the fire. Left with nothing else to do, Alex positioned herself beside the desk, gun at the ready. She heard the desk drawers slide open as the old hunter searched for ingredients for his spell. "Sam." Bobby's voice had Alex turning. "Upstairs, linen closet. Red hex box. It'll be heavy."

Sam nodded and hurried away, and Dean joined Alex at the edge of the salt line.

The air flickered in front of them, and the two girls appeared in the doorway, dressed in white dresses that made their pale, bloodless skin seem even paler. "Bobby." One of them spoke, but Dean spun around and shot her before she could say anything else. Alex aimed her own shotgun at the second, and it disappeared as her own weapon discharged. The recoil stung her arms, but the adrenaline dulled the pain.

"Kitchen," Bobby directed Dean, barely looking away from his project. "Cutlery drawer. It's got a false bottom. Hemlock, opium, wormwood."

Dean nodded, taking three steps for the kitchen, but before he reached it, he turned back in surprise. "Opium?" he repeated.

Bobby looked up. "Go!" he snapped, and Alex frowned that Dean had even taken the time to stop and ask.

As soon as Dean passed through the kitchen door, the two girls appeared, cutting him off from Alex and Bobby. "Bobby." The first one spoke again. "You walked right by us while that monster ate us up."

Alex emptied her round into the girl's chest, and she disappeared, but the second picked up where her twin had left off. "You could have saved us," she insisted, but Bobby shot her before she could say another word.

The sliding doors that led into the kitchen suddenly slammed shut, and Alex jumped in surprise. "Dean?" she yelled, and she prayed that her voice didn't shake with as much fear as she felt.

"I'm alright!" came the response. "Bobby, keep working!"

Alex nodded and stepped back, quickly reloading with deft yet trembling hands. Her grey eyes darted around the room, searching for any signs of the flickering souls, and she drew in a deep breath through her nose to steady her limbs. She heard voices in the kitchen, followed by the thud of a gun hitting the tile floor. The tell-tale sound of a struggle ensued, and Alex cast a worried glance in its direction. "Dean?" she called out.

No answer came, and, as adrenaline pulsed through her veins, she jumped across the salt line, ignoring Bobby's yells for her to come back. There was a gunshot right next to her, and she flinched away as something tore at her arm — salt round, no doubt — but she kept her attention on the door. She threw her weight against it, but it barely budged. Another shot sounded behind her, and she struggled with the door handle. The door shook, then caved beneath her, and Alex stumbled through to find a tall, dark man with his hand inside Dean's chest. The Winchester's eyes were wide, his mouth open in a silent scream, and Alex's gun flew up as her fingers closed around the trigger.

The spirit disappeared with a snarl as the salt rounds tore through him, embedding themselves in the cabinet behind him, and Dean collapsed. "Dean!" Alex backed up into a wall, eyes flickering between her surroundings and the Winchester. "Are you okay?"

"N-No." Dean shakily pulled himself to his feet, and it took him several seconds before he bent back down to pick up his gun.

"Come on." Alex hurried passed him and scooped up Bobby's ingredients as Dean slowly made his way back to the study. He sunk down onto a chair to reload his gun, and Alex launched herself across the salt line as one of the girls appeared right at her side. A gunshot had her ears ringing, and she winced as she dropped the plastic bags onto the desk. "Here."

Bobby didn't thank her; the only response her actions elicited was a muttered, "Idjit." The stairs creaked as Sam returned, and he placed the heavy metal box down beside Bobby; the old hunter's attention immediately turned onto it, and Alex stepped away.

She turned back to see a figure standing in the corner of the room, and her hair stood on end. "Ronald," Dean greeted, rising back to his feet. "Hey, come on, man. I thought we were friends."

"That was when I was breathing." The ghost's dark eyes flashed maliciously as he growled out his words. "Now I'm going to eat you alive."

"Not on my watch." Alex's gun fired, and the ghost disappeared. She retreated back to stand behind Bobby as she checked her barrel: empty. She dug through her pockets to find three more rounds. She shoved them into her gun as Dean shot a ghost from across the room, and over the blast she heard Bobby's murmured recital of Latin.

The study windows were suddenly thrown open, and wind rushed through from the darkened sky outside. The salt line faltered beneath the gale, Sam's work blown to bits, but even as Alex reached for the bag of salt, it was thrown out of her grasp, landing far across the room. The line, broke, and the young girl backpedaled in fear to find a woman flicker into existence in front of her: Meg.

"Duck!" Sam's voice had Alex hitting the ground, and she shielded her face as Sam's gun discharged. Bobby's voice was low and fast, rattling off the complex spell as quickly as he dared, and Alex jumped back to her feet, grabbing her gun and hurrying to Bobby's side. She caught sight of Agent Hendrickson out of the corner of her eye; he disappeared as quickly as he appeared, caught in the spread of flying rock-salt.

The wind howled, drowning out Bobby's words. "Duck!" she barely heard Dean yell, and she crouched as he fired over their heads. Now that the salt line was broken, the ghosts were appearing with a newfound vengeance. Alex shot Ronald, then Meg, then one of the little girls. She turned to shoot the second twin, but her gun only clicked; empty. She dropped it on the ground and backpedaled to the fireplace, fingers wrapping around one of the iron pokers that hung there. She stepped forward, then recoiled at the blur of a gun flying across the room.

Dean yelled his brother's name, and Alex turned to see Sam pinned against the wall by a small desk, the two young girls closing in. "Protect Bobby!" Sam yelled back, but Alex was already halfway to him. She swung the poker, dispelling one girl, but before she could wind up to reach the other, she was thrown across the room. She landed — thankfully — on the couch, her head protected from trauma by the leather seats.

She slithered onto the floor and her fingers closed around her weapon as one of the ghosts appeared in front of her; one swing through the calf sent the spirit packing. Alex struggled back to her feet at the sound of Bobby crying out, and her eyes went wide to see Meg. Her hand was deep within the hunter's back, and Bobby's jaw was clenched in pain. "Dean!" he got out.

On an act of impulse, Alex threw the iron poker across the room. Her aim fell true, passing through the spirit's head, and Bobby was released from her hold. He spun around and threw the bowl of ingredients into the fire, and the flames flashed with a eerie blue light that spread, filling the entire room. Dean dropped to the ground, and Alex covered her eyes as it grew even brighter.

It faded, and Bobby collapsed onto the ground.

"Bobby?" Dean crawled over to his friend, and, with a grunt, Sam pushed away the heavy desk and hurried over to join them. Together, the Winchesters helped Bobby back to his feet.

"Hey — are you okay?" Alex drew in a deep, shaking breath, still riding high on her adrenaline.

Bobby gave a small nod. "Good throw."

"I played softball." The young girl grinned in relief as she looked between the three hunters in front of her. Her gaze traversed the empty and battered room, and she felt her muscles quiver with excitement. "That, uh …" She shook her head, words failing her as she fruitlessly tried to describe what they all had just experience. Instead, she turned her attention to the clock on the wall. "So. Anybody hungry?"

Sam's eyebrows rose, and Dean's face scrunched in confusion. "You're thinking about food?" he asked. "Now?"

"Yeah. Haven't eaten all day." Alex looked down as her stomach growled in agreement. She could feel the adrenaline beginning to fade, and with it, she was beginning to feel again. Hunger, exhaustion, pain. She turned her attention to the stinging in her arm. The fabric of her sleeve was torn, tinged faintly with blood, but the wound wasn't deep nor life-threatening.

"Fine," she heard Dean say. "Let's clean up this mess a bit first, alright? Then we'll grab some grub."

Satisfied, Alex nodded, but she felt her heart sink a bit at the task that lay before them. Thunder cracked, and eyes moved out the broken windows. She had wrongly assumed that it was night; the dark sky was a result of clouds promising rain. It was barely 6:00 in the evening. "Okay," she agreed, and she stooped to begin picking up the empty shells. Sam pushed the desk back into its place against the wall, and Dean brushed past her as he began to sweep up the salt and glass that covered the wooden floor.

"Hey, Alex." Bobby spoke up from where he was re-stacking his books in the corner, and Alex hummed in acknowledgement as she turned to look at him. "Go get those books down in that room for me, okay?"

Alex nodded and hurried out of the room, flying down the stairs and into the basement. The grey light filtered through the half windows, filling the dusty room with an eerie light. She wrenched open the iron door and quickly gathered up the books — stacking up Bobby's notes on top of them — before she hurried away. Despite the fact that the spell had clearly worked, she felt fear prickle at her spine, and she kept casting looks around in case a ghost decided to suddenly appear.

"Thanks." Bobby took the books from her when she reached the study, and he placed them onto their appropriate shelves. "Hey, good work out there."

"Uh, yeah, thanks." Alex returned to her task, face flushing at Bobby's praise. Four months spent with him, and that was the first time she had gotten a compliment for working a case — of course, the young girl corrected, this was the first case where Bobby hadn't explicitly refused to let her get involved in any supernatural altercation.

"That your first ghost?" Dean paused in passing beside the young girl, broom in hand.

"Yeah." Alex scooped up a handful of shotgun shells. "First one I've gone up against, at least. I usually get sidelined when it comes to actually fighting them." She heard Bobby give a disgruntled noise under his breath, but she bit her tongue; they had had that argument enough times for Alex to know how it would play out, and now was neither the time nor the place.

"You okay?" Dean's words had her looking up, and Alex tipped her head.

"What?" She got to her feet. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Her eyes turned to the small cut on her arm, wondering if that was what his question was about, but before she could ask, Dean scoffed.

"Come on. I get it; I'm a hunter, too. It's a load of crap, and it's sure as hell not easy. First case —"

"Dean, I'm fine." Alex crossed over to the desk and dropped the shells onto it. "I've been with Bobby for months, and this wasn't the first time I've encountered crazy. Besides, there's a lot worse out there." She turned to look up into the Winchester's green eyes. "Yeah, this is all a lot different from the show. It's more intense, more terrifying, and unlike the show this can actually kill you. But this — this is nothing."

"Just because it gets worse doesn't mean you can handle it now."

Alex turned to face Sam, a scowl on her face. "And I'm sure you handle everything just perfectly," she snapped. "I mean, it's not like you still have nightmares about Jess, right?" She immediately regretted her words when Sam stiffened, but she refused to apologize.

"I think we're done for now." Bobby broke into their bickering, and Alex turned her head away. "Let's go eat."

...

They ate at a small diner in town and returned to Bobby's, too exhausted to do anything else but go to sleep. The two Winchesters set up camp in the study, Sam taking the couch, with Dean setting up a makeshift bed on the swept-clean floor. Alex slowly followed Bobby up the stairs, turning into her own bedroom and collapsing onto the bed in the corner. It creaked beneath her weight as she worked her way under the covers.

She tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep as the images of ghosts haunted her mind. The clouds had cleared, and moonlight drifted through the window, casting shadows all about her room.

Finally, as midnight rolled around, she threw off the covers and got out of bed, her bare feet silent on the wooden floor. She quietly snuck down the stairs, holding her breath as they creaked beneath her; she didn't want to wake the two brothers that slept in the next room. She slipped on a pair of shoes and reached for Dean's jacket that hung on the hook beside the front door. There was a soft sound from the kitchen, like a flutter of wings, and she turned in surprise. Castiel stood there beside the sink, his gaze upon her; his blue eyes seemed to glow in the low light. "Hi." Alex let out a soft smile as she whispered the word, and she took a step forward to stand in the doorway to the kitchen. "You looking for Dean?" She nodded her head towards the study, where the feet of the slumbering Winchester could be seen. "He's over there."

"Yes." Castiel dipped his head in acknowledgement; his voice rumbled softly as he mimicked her quiet speech. "I can see that."

"Do you want me to wake him?"

The angel shook his head. "I can wait." He turned to face the study, leaning against the counter as he fell silent, and Alex shrugged, choosing not to read too much into his cold politeness.

"Awesome." She moved back towards the front door, and it opened with a low creak. "Stay safe, Cas." She heard Dean stir slightly, and she slipped out into the night. Safely outside, she set out to slowly wander among the cars. The stars twinkled with their cold, dead light in the dark sky, and she shivered as another cold breeze rushed between the twisted piles of metal.

She paused beside an old car, a 1965 Chevelle that was still intact, and she climbed up upon the metal hood and leaned back against the windshield. A plane passed overhead, its red lights blinking as it traversed the inky night, and Alex pulled Dean's jacket tighter around her as she let herself slip off into her thoughts.

She didn't remember her eyes closing, but they must have, for when she opened them once again, she let out a half-startled cry. "Dammit!" she cursed, half falling, half slithering off of the car. The sun wasn't yet up, but the grey sky already hinting at the promise of another cloudless day. The bare light barely illuminated the salvage yard around her, but the figure standing in front of her was obvious. "Don't do that!"

"My apologies." Castiel watched her rise back to her feet, and Alex brushed the dust off of her jeans.

She straightened up, eyeing the angel that stood only a few inches in front of her. "Mind taking a step back?" she asked. "I mean, no offense, but I like a bit of personal space."

The angel took a step back. "Is this adequate?" he inquired.

"Yeah, that's fine, Cas." Alex brushed her hair back out of her face, smoothing down the tangles. "How long have you been standing there?"

"No long." Castiel studied her with his brilliant blue eyes, squinted slightly. "Why do you call me 'Cas'?"

The young girl shrugged. "It's shorter than Castiel. 'Castiel' takes too long to say. 'Cas' is quick and short, something I can yell. Besides," she added. "It suits you. But, uh, I'm guessing you didn't come here to ask about your nickname, am I right? What's up?"

The angel blinked slowly, the faintest sign of acknowledgment. "I need you to tell me exactly what it is that you know."

"Sorry." Alex firmly shook her head. "No way, Jose. No future telling."

"The lives of thousands of angels are at stake here." Castiel's head lifted up, and his shoulders rolled back, and Alex shifted backwards. "Would you honestly just let them die?"

"That's not the point," Alex snapped. "I can't change anything. If I do, and if everything changes, then what use am I? I'll have no leverage against anyone, no protection. What if something worse happens because of me? So no." She crossed her arms. "I'm not telling you anything until I decide that it's time."

"Alex." Castiel stepped forward, halving the gap between them. "I am an angel of the Lord. You should show me some respect."

Alex refused to back down, and she lifted her chin despite the dark look on the angel's face. "No," she corrected. "You should show me some respect. I know things that you would never want to know. Things about you, your future, your friends, and your superiors. Things that can change this war for the worst. But I won't." Her voice dropped into a whisper. "Because I'm on your side, Castiel. But I'm not your weapon."

She paused to let her words sink in, head raised in defiance. Castiel's eyes narrowed, and for several seconds, no one spoke.

It was Alex who finally broke the silence. "I should get back to the house. Bobby will be wondering where I am." She pushed her way past the the angel, wincing at how it felt like she was shouldering a unmoving brick wall. "Think on what I said, Cas," she added slowly as she paused, looking back to look at the angel; he remained still, the only sign of his acknowledgement being his head turning to the side to watch her out of the corner of his eye. "I need to know whether or not I can trust you." She stalked away, leaving her words hanging in the silent dawn air.

...

She had trouble sleeping after her conversation with Castiel, and finally, at six am, she gave up and snuck downstairs. Dean was still asleep on the study floor, but Sam was up, leaning against the counter in the kitchen as he prepared a pot of coffee. "Hey," she greeted quietly, and she leaned up against the doorframe, cautious about getting too closer to the younger Winchester when no one else was around.

However, Sam's face was passive. "Hey," he greeted in return, and he walked back to the couch in the study. Alex half followed, but she stopped mid-stride when Dean's eyes snapped open, suddenly wide awake. "You alright?" Sam sat down on the couch, watching his brother with curious eyes. When Dean didn't respond, he prompted, "You okay, Dean?"

Dean Winchester slowly sat up, and Alex watched as his face fell in pensive thought. "So …" he slowly began, "you have no problem believing in … God and angels?"

Sam blinked, and his gaze flickered over to Alex, surprised at the deep, sudden question. "No," he admitted, "not really."

"Nope," Alex added, chiming in.

Dean paused, and Alex lifted her eyebrows, curious as to whether this conversation was fueled by Castiel's presence last night. "So I guess that means that you believe in the devil?"

Sam frowned. "Why are you asking me this?"

Dean opened his mouth, half ready to say something, but he changed his mind. Alex watched as he got to his feet without another word and disappeared to the bathroom. She turned to catch Sam's questioning look, and she shrugged. "Don't ask me." She moved back into the kitchen and began to prepare a breakfast for herself; a bowl from the cupboard, cereal from on top of the fridge, milk from — Alex pushed the beers aside and pulled out the milk carton. "Dude." She unscrewed the cap and frowned.

"What?" Sam looked up, and Alex's frown deepened even further.

"Milk?" She turned the plastic jug upside down; not even a drop remained. Sam shrugged, and she tossed the carton at his feet. "Seriously, I swear I buy milk every other day. It's bad enough with Bobby." She grabbed the cereal box and stalked over to the desk, where she sat down with a huff. "You sleep okay?" she inquired as she dug out a handful of dry cereal.

Sam gave a noncommittal shrug. "Yeah. You?"

"I suppose." The young girl leaned back in the wooden chair and threw her feet up onto the desk, crossing them at her ankles.

Dean reentered the room, and Alex fell silent. "I saw Castiel last night," he announced quietly. "Apparently heaven is at war."

"Yeah, I saw him, too," Alex agreed. "In the kitchen just before you woke up. Is that what he wanted to tell you? He wouldn't talk to me, so I just left." Her face darkened as she remembered her conversation with the angel, at his attempt to intimidate her into breaking. "We talked for a bit afterwards, though — nothing about heaven, though. I think he tried to threaten me into telling him what I knew, so I sort of threatened him back —"

"Hey. Feet off the desk." Bobby cut into her rambling, and Alex quickly obliged as he entered the room, making sure to shove a handful of cereal into her mouth in a passive aggressive act of retaliation. Bobby only rolled his eyes and disappeared into the kitchen.

"You threatened Castiel?" Dean repeated, and his eyes sparkled with disbelief as he took in her small, lean stature. "Right. Because he threatened me, and he seems like the kind of guy you, you know, don't push."

The young girl shrugged. "He's a big softie," she promised. "He's just got to warm up a bit and pull that stick out of his ass." She turned to Sam, an eyebrow cocking to find his gaze upon her. "What's up, Sammy?"

"Don't call me Sammy." Sam got up and moved after Bobby into the kitchen; he was too far away to hear Alex mutter "Sammy," under her breath.

"So, when are we leaving?" Dean asked his brother in passing, and Alex quickly closed up the cereal box, interest lighting up her eyes.

"Where are we going?" she asked, getting to her feet. She tossed Bobby the cereal box, ignoring his admonition of throwing around food; her attention was fully focused on Sam and Dean.

Dean only scoffed at her statement. "No. No you. Me and Sam."

"Sure. You and Sam. And me." Alex circled around the desk to stand in front of him, and she reached up to draw her blonde hair up into a pony tail. "I want to come with you guys this time." Dean scoffed again, and she frowned. "Come on! Why not?"

"Oh I don't know." The Winchester crossed his arms, his biceps bulging. "Let's see. Maybe because you're twelve, because you have almost zero hunting experience. Maybe because you're annoying. So why don't you stay here with Bobby and figure out whatever the hell it is that we're up against."

"I'm not twelve!" Alex retorted hotly. "And I'm more use to you when I'm with you guys. I'm no use here, Dean. Bobby can managed just as well without me."

"It's fine," Bobby added. "I've got everything covered here. Take her out for a few days and let her stretch her legs. She's worn path in the carpet with all her damn pacing."

Alex held her breath as the two Winchesters exchanged looks; a silent conversation passed between the two, but eventually Dean threw his hands up. "Fine," he reluctantly relented. "She can come. You want to spend eight hours in the car, fine," he added to Alex. "But if you start complaining, we're leaving you on the side of the road."

Alex rolled her eyes, not buying into the Winchester's threat. "Count me in. Give me five minutes to pack up my things." She hurried up towards the stairs, pausing near the top as Dean started towards the front door. "And don't you dare leave without me!"