January 29th, 2009
Sioux Falls, South Dakota
It was almost February when Alex heard from Dean again. He called her up one day. "Hey. Alex."
"Yup. That's my name. What's up?"
"So, since you seem so intent on hunting, we've got a case a few miles east of where you are. Seems like a simple vamp case. I figured that if you're going to be a hunter, you better get some experience under your belt."
"Uh, sure, if it's not out of your way." She lowered her voice. "Truthfully, I'll be glad to get out of here and away from Bobby. He's driving me insane."
Dean laughed quietly. "Tell me about it. But, uh, I just want to make sure this is what you want, okay? Because hunting's not fun, its not pretty. It's full of nightmares and pain and all types of crap."
"Tell me about it. You know my first real not-a-ghost case had zombies? Remember? They weren't just zombies either. They were zombies that died and became ghosts. I don't do zombies, Dean. I still have nightmares."
"It doesn't get any better," Dean warned.
"Yeah, well, I'm already in. I spent most of last summer burying bodies with Bobby, okay? They weren't pretty either." She sighed. "Come on. I've already been on a few cases. If I don't like it, I'll just come back and hang with Bobby. He wants me to go to college."
"You should."
"Eh. I mean, I haven't exactly been to high school, and I don't actually exist in this world either. It's not looking too promising."
Dean grunted in acknowledgment. "Well, okay. We'll be by sometime tomorrow."
"Awesome. See you then. Tell Sammy I said hi."
"Yep." Dean hung up, and so did Alex.
"Who was that?" Bobby walked into the room.
"Dean. He says since it looks like I'll be a hunter, and he and Sam found an easy vamp case past our way, he asked if I wanted to go along. I said sure."
"You seriously got your mind set on being a hunter?" Bobby walked by her and grabbed a beer out of the fridge.
"Bobby," Alex sighed, "I honestly don't see how I have a choice. I mean, you, Dean, Sam, you guys are all hunters. And you're basically the only family I have. Plus, I kinda know what's going to happen. I can't just turn a blind eye to all that."
Bobby let out a grunt. "Guess you got a point." When Alex nodded, he continued. "Fine. Go ahead."
Alex grinned. "Thanks, Bobby."
...
The next afternoon, the Impala pulled up behind the house. Dean got out, knocking on the door. "Hey. You ready?"
"Yep." Alex slung her bag over her shoulder. "See ya, Bobby."
"Stay alive," Bobby yelled back.
Alex snorted in laughter. "I'll see what I can do," she promised.
She got into the backseat, throwing her bag against the far door. "Samster. We meet again," she said in a Russian accent.
Sam said nothing.
Dean got in, and they drove off. "Okay." Alex leaned over the backseat. "Tell me. What we got?"
"Typical vamp case down south. Should be quite simple. A good starter case."
"Hm." Alex shrugged, wanting to point out that she wasn't exactly a rookie anymore. But she said nothing. After all, they knew best.
...
Seven hours later, Dean pulled the car up into a motel. They checked in. "Okay. So, here's the plan. The nest is a few miles into the woods. We've been keeping an eye on this place for a while now. Every once and a while it fills up to where it becomes a problem again. We'll head out tonight and check the place out." He paused, glancing at Alex. "How good are you with a machete?"
Alex shrugged. "Dunno. Never really used one, I guess."
"Hm. Wonderful," Sam grumbled.
...
Alex snuck through the woods. Moonlight barley illuminated the dense forest. In front of her, Dean and Sam walked, feet somewhat silent on the bare ground. Alex stepped lightly, slightly pleased that even she could barely hear her footsteps. She tightened her grip on the wooden handle of the machete, its metal blade reflecting the dull light. Dean stopped, glancing back at her.
"What?" Alex asked.
"Nothing," Dean whispered back. "I just can't hear you following us. Just making sure you're still there."
"I am." Alex stood beside him. "Is that the nest?" she motioned towards the dilapidated house in front of them.
"Mm-hmm." Dean nodded faintly. "Circle around, would ya? Then report back."
Alex nodded, swallowing her fear and slipping off in between the trees. She kept her left side facing the house. A cold breeze blew across her, reminding Alex that it was February. However, the ground was clear of snow. She glanced back at the house. It looked abandoned, but as she rounded the back, she saw a flicker of movement through the broken glass of the back window. Silent as a mouse, she crept back behind Sam and Dean. They were watching the house and didn't hear her approach.
She stopped behind them. "Place seems quiet," she reported.
Both Sam and Dean jumped. "Dammit," Dean cursed under his breath.
"Although I thought I saw movement through one of the windows in the back."
Dean and Sam exchanged a glance. "I'll get it," Sam whispered, then disappeared off to their right.
"Okay. We'll give him time to get back there, then we'll go in. They probably already know we're here."
Alex grunted in agreement, knowing how sensitive their senses were. After a few second's pause, Dean motioned her forward, machete gripped tightly. Suddenly there was noises in the back, and Dean picked up his pace, rushing through the door. Alex followed close behind. Three people were inside. Seeing the hunters, they bared their pointed teeth, nostrils flared.
Then they attacked. Dean swung his machete, taking off one's head. It fell to the ground. One ducked past Dean, launching itself at Alex. She twirled the blade in her hand, looking for a clear shot. She swung, and the blade buried itself in the vampire's neck. The vampire screeched, trying to yank out the blade. Alex reached out, placing a hand on the vamp's head, using it as leverage to get the blade out. It worked, and blood sprayed from the open wound. Alex swung again, hacking away at the creature's neck. Her heart was pounding at the gruesome sight, but she kept going. On the third swing she severed the head, and it rolled off of the body. Alex spat on the ground, getting the tang of blood out of her mouth. A second body lay at Dean's feet, making the three they had seen. Sam entered thorough the back door, blood splattering his jacket, his machete stained red.
Dean looked over at Alex. "How you doing?"
Alex snorted, unwilling to admit how bad she was shaking. "You guys are lucky. It took me three swings to get that vamp's head off."
Sam let out an amused noise. "Let's burn and go." He reached down and grabbed a body by its arm. "Dean, you're on head duty."
Dean let out a snort. "Whatever. Alex, go get a couple shovels, would ya?" He tossed her the keys. "And the salt and gas."
"Yeah, sure." Gripping her weapon tight, Alex hurried off into the dark woods. Her heart beat loudly, but she forced herself to remain calm. However, she broke into a light jog at the sound of a snapping twig.
She grabbed two shovels, a bag of salt, and a gan of kerosene, threw it in a duffle, locked the trunk, then jogged back. "Here." She tossed Dean a shovel. They had moved the bodies outside into a pile.
"Thanks." Dean and Sam began digging.
After a few minutes, Sam stopped. He climbed out of the hole. "Here." He handed Alex his shovel. "You want to take a vamp's head off with one swing, you need muscle. Start digging."
Alex rolled her eyes, but did as he said. "This better work," she shot back lightly. She jumped down next to Dean.
...
Less than an hour later, all of the vamps were in the pit. Dean sprinkled the salt over the bodies than doused them with the accelerant. He flicked open a lighter, and dropped it. The bodies exploded into flames. Heat radiated off of the flames, and Alex reached out her hands.
The smell was strange. It smelled like pork and beef with a coppery tang. Then, as the internal organs caught fire, the scent grew almost sickly sweet.
As the flames died, Dean began shoveling back in the dirt. Alex helped. After a while Sam took over for her, and Alex just watched. Then, when they were finished, Dean packed up his stuff and motioned for them to go. Alex picked up her machete while Sam and Dean yanked theirs out of a nearby tree. They walked back to the car.
"Here." Dean opened the trunk and tossed her a shirt. "Put this on."
"Why?" Alex watched him take off his jacket and throw it in the trunk.
"You're covered in blood," Sam explained. "Just do it."
"Whatever." Alex pulled off her t-shirt and pulled on the new one. She wiped her face with the old one, getting the blood off. Then she tossed it in the car. "Thanks."
"Mm-hmm." Dean got in the car. "Now. I'm thinking food and drink. Who's hungry?"
...
He drove them back to the motel where they changed again into better clothes. Alex washed the blood off of her hair and face, and then Dean took them out to Taco Bell, which apparently was still open at that late hour. They ate tacos, drank a lot of caffeine, then Dean pulled out a newspaper article.
"What's that?" Alex leaned against his shoulder to see.
"New case."
Sam sighed. "Another? Dean, we just finished one!"
"So?" Dean unfolded the paper. "I picked this up when we drove through Minnesota." He handed the paper to Sam. "Sound ghost-ish?"
Sam quickly scanned the article. "Yeah. I mean, it sure seems like it."
"Okay. Then we'll go check it out." Dean crumpled up his taco wrapper. "Let's go."
Alex and Sam exchanged a glance and followed. They got into the car and drove.
...
A few hours out, Sam let out a large yawn. He glanced back at Alex. She met his gaze calmly. "You tired?" he asked.
Alex shook her head. Truthfully, every time she closed her eyes, she saw the vampires chasing after her, their heads hanging only by a thread.
"Hey, Dean. Pull over."
Dean glanced quizzically over at his brother, but did as he asked.
Sam got out and circled around to the back door. "Alex. Out."
Alex slowly did as he said. "Why?" she dared to ask.
"I'm taking a nap in the back." Sam crawled into the backseat. "Take shotgun."
"Okay." Alex circled around to the passenger seat and got in. Dean glanced at her, but said nothing. They kept driving.
...
February 1st, 2009
Brandon, Minnesota
They pulled into the North Country Motel in Brandon, Minnesota late the next morning. Dean checked them in, and Alex collapsed on the bed. She looked around. The two beds were in the back, divided from the rest of the room by a half wall. There was a small kitchen set in front with a table and two chairs near the window. A couch sat against the far wall, facing a decent sized television set.
Sam sat down at the table, pulling out his laptop. He did something, then leaned in, carefully reading the screen. Every once and a while he'd scribble something down on his notepad, face deep in concentration.
A few minutes later Dean came back, carrying a plastic bag of groceries and a six pack of beer. He tossed the bag on the counter and put the beer in the fridge. "So. What'd you find?"
"It's only been five minutes, Dean," Sam said. "I'm not a miracle worker."
"No, but you're good. What'd you find?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "The Madison house." He glanced down at his notes. "Uh, built in 1865, sold three times before a man called Henry Madison. Um, local folklore says he killed his three daughters and wife and buried them in the basement, then offed himself. They say he haunts the house and that no one who goes in comes out . . ."
Dean grunted. "Typical."
Sam snorted in agreement before continuing. "Uh, no ones lived there since he died. Um, in other news, two kids went missing three days ago. Their names were Thomas Freeman and Ben Young." He turned his laptop so Dean could see.
Curious, Alex got up and walked over to them. "So it sounds like a vengeful spirit type thing."
"Uh, yeah," Sam agreed.
"So we should go check out the house." Dean stood up.
"Well, someone should go talk to the kids' parents," Sam countered, standing up as well.
Dean nodded. "Yep. Thanks for volunteering. Come on, Alex."
Sam shook his head in annoyance. "Let's meet at the cafe down the street for lunch afterwards."
"Deal." Dean threw on a jacket. "We'll drop you off at the car rentals, then we're off." He glanced at Alex. "FBI. Just in case."
Alex nodded and hurried over to her bag. She fished around for her FBI ID, putting into in her pocket. Then she grabbed a heavy grey sweatshirt and pulled it on. It was huge - undoubtably Sam's - but if kept her very warm. She followed the Winchester's out the door and into the biting wind.
They hurriedly got into the car. Dean started the engine. It took a few tries, but it soon purred to life. He pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street. Alex looked out the window at the passing landscape. It was almost completely white. The snow had stopped falling hours ago, but the wind kept it swirling around.
Dean pulled the Impala in front of a car rental. Sam jumped out, collar turned against the wind. Alex climbed over the seat next to Dean. "Turn up the heat," she muttered, pulling her hands into her sleeves.
Dean just chuckled. "Wimp."
"Jerk." Alex buckled in, slumping against the seat. "So where's this Madison house?"
In response, Dean sped off.
...
By the time they arrived, the air had warmed up a touch. Alex studied the house from the front seat. It was large and fancy; obviously this Henry Madison character had been wealthy. However, the roof was now sagging, and several of the windows were broken and boarded.
Dean threw open the door and stepped out. Alex did the same. Her feet crunched on the snow as she circled around to the back. Dean opened the trunk, rifling through the weapons box. He handed her a flashlight, and took one for himself. He also grabbed an EMF.
"Shouldn't we bring a salt gun?" Alex suggested.
"Salt gun?" Dean looked over at her, amused. "What's that?"
"You know what I mean." Alex just brushed him off. "I mean, if this place has a vengeful spirit that's taking people, maybe we should bring some protection, you know?"
Dean handed her a sawed-off shotgun. "Good idea."
Alex snorted in half amusement. "Sometimes I wonder how you guys are still alive."
Dean didn't respond. He closed the trunk and hurried across the street. Alex followed. He stopped by the old iron gate, kicking it with his foot. It swung opened. They walked up to the front door. It in turn opened easily. Inside was dusty and damp, the cold air only making it worse. Alex flicked on her flashlight, running the white beam up the staircase to the second floor. "What are we looking for?" she asked.
"Dunno. Bones, bodies, kids, ghosts. Take your pick."
"No thanks," Alex muttered. She crossed the room. Dean followed.
They explored the first floor, stopping in every room. "Ooh. Look. Stairs." Alex pulled open a door, pausing. "Every good haunted house has a basement, right?"
Dean walked over to her. "You first."
Alex rolled her eyes, but didn't argue. She slowly made her way down the steps, flashlight flickering around. A high pitched rolling noise sounded behind her as she stepped onto the basement floor, and she glanced behind her to see Dean holding the EMF. "EMF's going nuts," he murmured.
"Great." Alex let Dean take the lead. "Anything?"
Dean turned, holding out the device next to a line of tools. "Nothing much." The noise died. Frustrated, Dean shook it. It was silent. "Damn. It's gone."
"Great," Alex repeated. "Now it's on the move."
"Mm-hmm." Dean continued to explore the basement. He stepped through a doorway. "There's no floor here," he called. "Just dirt . . . hey."
Alex cautiously approached. "Do I dare ask what you found?"
Dean shifted so she could see past him. His flashlight was focused on the far wall. "That dirt's fresh." He walked over to it.
"Of course it is," Alex sighed. She reluctantly followed.
"Go see if there's a shovel or something in there," Dean said.
Alex retreated to the basement. She found a small shovel and returned it to Dean. He promptly began digging at the dirt.
"Yeah," Alex agreed sarcastically. "This is a great idea. I mean, seriously, what can go wrong?"
"Shut up and keep watch," Dean grunted.
Alex let out a breath through her nose, but turned her back to him, watching vigilant.
After a little while the sound of metal on dirt changed, and Dean cursed. "Damn."
"What?" Alex turned. Fear ran up her spine as her flashlight came to rest on the new hole. "Is that . . ."
"Probably." Dean knelt down. A face stuck out of the dirt, it's eyes dull and glassy. The boy's head was at a strange angle, telling Alex his neck was probably broken. "I think that's Ben."
"Great," she muttered. "So are we done here?" She turned to leave, then stopped. A woman stood in front of her. She flickered once, and her jaws opened unnaturally wide in a silent scream.
There was a loud bang, and the ghost dissipated. Dean was holding his shotgun, its barrel pointed past Alex.
"Yeah, we're done down here," he said. "Let's go."
Alex picked up her gun and followed him up. However, instead of him going out the front door, he headed up the stairs. "Uh, Dean?" Alex asked. "Where are you going?"
"We got to see the rest of the house," Dean insisted. "Come on."
Alex reluctantly followed. There was nothing on the second floor, and then Dean led her up to the attic. "Wonderful," she muttered. "Creepy ass house with a creepy ass attic." She brushed a large cobweb out the way, resisting the urge to flinch away.
"And there's Thomas." Dean's voice made Alex jump. She forced herself to turn towards his voice. A boy was hanging from from the rafters, his face blue and swollen.
"There's something seriously wrong with this ghost," Alex insisted. Her voice surprisingly didn't shake. "Are we done now? Like, done done? This is pretty creepy."
"Yeah. We can go." Dean led them back out of the house. They threw their guns in the back and drove off.
...
It was a little past noon when they pulled into the cafe down the street from the motel. They got out, Dean locked the door, and they walked into the cafe. Sam was already sitting at a table, and waved them over. They sat down, and Alex picked up the menu.
"So," Sam began. "Did you find anything?"
"Uh, yeah. We found the kids."
Sam looked sharply at his brother. "What?"
"Yeah. One was buried in the basement, and the other was hanging in the attic."
"There was a ghost too," Alex added. "But, uh, it was a chick, and she seemed more scared than anything. I mean, all she did was appear and silently scream."
"So you're thinking there might be more than one ghost?"
"I think it's a strong possibility," Alex agreed. "I mean, didn't that legend say the guy buried his wife and daughters in the basement? Maybe it's one of them and that's what's holding them there."
"Nope." Sam pushed a folder towards them. "I did some digging. Barbara Madison and her two daughters are buried in Longview Cemetery."
Dean flipped through the folder. Alex watched him. "Is that them?" She pointed to a old black and white Polaroid.
"Yeah. Why?"
"Because that wasn't the girl I saw." Alex studied the picture closely. It had terrible resolution, but the girl she saw definitely wasn't there.
She saw Dean and Sam exchange a glance. Dean took the photo. "She's right," he agreed. "That's not her."
"Then who is she?"
Their conversation was cut short as the waitress came to take their order.
"Maybe Henry is the killer ghost," Alex suggested when the woman left, "and the other ghost is another victim he took after he was dead like, uh . . ." She searched for the word. Unable to find it, she just described it. "Like when a ghost relives its last few moments - death echo. Maybe it's one of those."
Sam shook his head. "Henry was cremated." He looked over at Dean, who was smiling in amusement. "What?"
"Uh, nothing. I'm just thinking about the last time we dealt with a killer ghost and death echoes."
Alex watched Sam grimace, and her interest grew. "What happened?"
Sam ran a hand through his hair. "The Ghostfacers happened."
"Oh." Alex smiled. "I've heard of them. That was when, uh, gay love pierce the veil of death and saved the day, right?"
Dean chuckled, and Sam just shook his head. "Yeah, that's them."
Alex laughed. "Those guys are great. They're the ones who, uh, what was it? Dean, you told them to get salt out of your duffle bag, pour it in a circle, and get inside, and they asked-"
"Inside the duffle?" Dean finished, and Alex grinned. "Yeah, uh, just yeah."
...
They finished up lunch and went back to their motel. At some point Sam drove down to the library to find the local archives, leaving Dean and Alex alone. They didn't do much. Dean was on his laptop, and Alex curled up under the covers and took a nap.
...
At one point Dean got a call from Sam, and drove off to help him with whatever. Alex declined his offer to come along. The door closed, and soon the familiar sound of the Impala engine faded off. Alex surfed through the different tv channels. There was nothing on. "Castiel?" she finally asked. "Are you doing okay? I haven't heard from you in almost two months." She paused. "I hope everything's okay up there. Sorry about the demotion."
"It isn't your fault." Castiel's deep voice reached her ears.
She turned, a smile growing on her face. "Hey, Cassie."
"Hello. Why are you under the covers?" Castiel tipped his head to one side. "It's the middle of the day."
"Yeah, in the middle of winter. It's freaking cold in here." Alex sat up, dislodging the covers. She pulled Sam's sweatshirt even tighter around her.
"What do you want?"
"What do you mean?"
"I'm in enough trouble already. My superiors think I am getting too involved in your lives already."
Alex laughed. "We're trying to stop the apocalypse here. Any of your involvement is welcomed."
Castiel opened his mouth, but said nothing. He closed it again. "It is not my place to say what is and isn't right."
"No, I think it is your place to say what's right and what's not." Alex stood up and walked over to him. He opened his mouth to respond, but Alex placed a finger over his lips. "Drop it." She went over to the fridge and pulled out a coke. "So, what's new with you?"
"Not much. How is the ankle?"
"Pretty good. It still gives out once and a while. Maybe it didn't set well." Alex cracked open the carbonated drink.
"Let me see."
Alex shrugged, but sat down at the table. She lifted her right foot onto the table. Castiel reached out. He placed a light hand on her ankle. Warmth spread outwards from his touch. Then he pulled back. "You're right. It didn't set correctly. I fixed it."
"Oh. Thanks." Alex stood back up. "You know, you're pretty cool. Don't let your superiors get to you, okay? You're not bad."
"Uh, thank you."
Alex let out a big smile. "Yeah, no problem. We still friends?"
"I didn't know we stopped being friends."
"Cool." As soon as she finished speaking, Castiel disappeared. She sighed. Then her phone rang. She answered. "Impeccable timing, Dean."
"Uh, thanks? Listen. We need you to go talk to Mr. and Mrs. Freeman again, okay? Get the whole story again. We're not sure if they were lying about something or what. Get specifics."
"Yeah, okay. What should I be? FBI?"
"Go Sheriff's Department. Call if there's any trouble."
"Yeah, okay," Alex repeated. "Where do they live?"
"Just two blocks from the motel. Uh, 1658 Hemingway Lane."
"Okay. Cool. I'll go do that." Alex hung up and looked down at her. Deciding a dark gray sweatshirt wasn't technically typical police dress, she pulled it off. She dug through her bag, then through Dean's. She pulled on a blue plaid shirt over her black t-shirt, rolling up the sleeves. Then she grabbed one of his brown military jacket and pulled it on top. Now comfortably warm, she grabbed her ID and gun, and set out into the cold. She turned the collar up over her ears, screwing her face up against the wind.
...
It was only a five minute walk. She hurried up the steps of the two story house, knocking on the door. It opened. "Hey." Alex looked up at the woman. "Mrs. Freeman?"
"Yes. Who are you?"
"I'm Amelia Collins. I work for the police department." Alex flashed her badge before stuffing it back in her pocket. "You're the mother of Thomas Freeman, correct? I'm investigating his disappearance."
"There was a man from the FBI here recently. Are you working with him?" Mrs. Freeman ushered her into the house.
"Uh, yeah. I mean, I haven't met him, but I was told there was an FBI agent in town." Alex looked around. "Now, tell me about your son."
"Uh, yes. Please, sit down. I'll go get my husband." Mrs. Freeman disappeared farther into the house. Alex sat down on the couch, waiting politely. She ran her forefinger and thumb over her other forefinger, looking around.
She heard the all familiar click of a gun cocking. "Who are you?"
In one swift motion Alex stood up and pulled out her gun, spinning around. She saw a Mrs. Freeman standing behind a man, who Alex took to be Mr. Freeman.
"Put the gun down," he commanded.
"How about you do the same?" Alex suggested.
"Don't mess with me."
"My finger's not on the trigger, nor is my gun even cocked. Now. Put the gun down, and so will I."
"Who are you?" The man lowered his gun, and Alex did the same.
"I'm with the police."
"No, you're not."
"Yes, I am." Alex put her gun on the coffee table, and slowly pulled out her ID. She showed him. "See?"
"No, you're not. I'm the sheriff. And you're not on the force." He raised his gun again. "Now. Put your hands where I can see them."
Alex shook her head. "I'm telling you. I work with the police. Let me call my superior-"
"I am the superior." Mr. Freeman tossed her something.
Alex slowly reached down to pick it up. She opened it. It looked like he was telling the truth. John Freeman, Douglas County Sheriff. It was legit. She tossed it back. "Ah. Well, howdy, sheriff."
"Alicia, call Chip. Have him come with a squad car."
Mrs. Freeman nodded and hurried off.
"Sit." Sheriff Freeman motioned to the couch. Alex did, crossing her legs causally. "Why are you here?"
"I told you. Your son is missing. I'm here looking for him."
"You are, huh? What are you, a bounty hunter?"
"Nope. Now, tell me. Your son, Thomas. He disappeared with Ben Young. They just vanished."
"What do you know about my son?"
"Not much. But I'm trying to figure it out. Now, tell me. Tell me anything that'll help me."
"Nothing will help you. Impersonating an officer? That's five years, minimum. And I'm guessing you don't have a permit for this gun." He picked it up, studying it. "Nice one, but the way."
"Thanks. My personal favorite, although my sawed-off is pretty impressive as well. Made it myself."
"Hm. Illegal possession of a gun, minimum of a year. Illegal possession of a sawed-off? At least another ten. And now you're a suspect for murder."
"Murder?" Alex let out an amused noise. "Right. Because if I killed the sheriff's son, I would go to his house and pretend to work for him. Obviously. And you have no proof my sawed-off is illegal."
"Shut up. I'm sure there's a lot more I could charge you with. Long story short, you're going to jail for a long, long time."
The door opened, and a tall man stepped through. He was wearing a police uniform.
"Ah, Chip." Mr. Freeman stood up, motioning for Alex to do the same. "Here she is. Take her down to the station. I'll catch up."
Chip nodded. He roughly grabbed her arm, and Alex tried to wrench her arm away. She couldn't. Knowing they'd search her, her free hand went immediately into her jacket pocket. Her fingers closed around the motel key. Chip led her out of the house and down the walk. Alex suddenly pretended to slip, falling the the ground. She landed in a snow bank, awkwardly but effectively hiding the key.
"Get up." Chip pulled her to her feet and threw her against the car, pulling her hands behind her back, handcuffing her. He began he speech about her rights, but Alex ignored him. She let out a breath, smiling in disbelief. Damn those Winchesters.
She was forced into the backseat. Chip got in and drove off. Alex leaned against the bars, studying the officer. He looked young, with shortly cropped brown hair. His jawline was sharp, and condensation rose from his mouth with every breath.
"If you're that cold, turn up the heat," Alex suggested dryly. She pressed her head against the fiberglass. "So, Chip, right?"
He said nothing.
Alex sighed. "Fine. It's been a while since I've been in the back of a police car. I mean, I've never been arrested before, but -"
"You know everything you say will be used against you."
"Yeah, yeah. I know. Just making conversation." However, Alex fell silent.
...
They arrived at the police station a few minutes later. Her hands were handcuffed in front of her, and then she was roughly brought into a small interrogation room. A little while later, Sheriff Freeman appeared. He sat down in the chair across from her. "So. Why don't we start with your name, huh?"
Alex said nothing.
"You're going to have to tell me your name." He pulled out her police department ID. "This is a pretty convincing replica. Except ours," he slid it across the table, "say 'Douglas County Police.' "
"Sorry. Gotta keep it generic."
"How did you make it?"
Alex shrugged. "Little bit of computer magic, and a nearby Staples."
"So. What is your real name? Just so I know how to address you."
"When do I get my phone call?"
"This isn't Hollywood. You don't get one."
Alex blinked. Crap. She just shrugged.
"Now. Your name." No answer. "Okay, then tell me where you live."
Alex didn't respond.
"You're in enough trouble already, you hear? The last thing you need to add to your count is this."
"Am I under arrest? 'Cause if I'm not, I'm leaving." She stood up to leave.
The sheriff blocked her way. "Yes, you are under arrest. Now sit back down."
Alex rolled her eyes, but did so. Hurry up, she willed the Winchesters. They had to know something was wrong by now.
"What is your name?!"
"Smart. Maxwell Smart. I work for Control and am currently trying to stop Kaos from taking over the world."
The sheriff slapped the table, making Alex jump. His eyes were blazing, but he stood up and walked away.
"What about my phone call?" Alex yelled after him. The door slammed shut, and Alex let out a loud sigh.
...
She wasn't sure how long she sat there. Then, the door opened. The sheriff walked through. He looked calm and collected, but Alex knew that wouldn't last long.
"What do you know about my son?"
Alex scratched behind her ear, buying time. Then she leaned forward. "Thomas Freeman. Friends with Ben Young. Disappeared three days ago. Did your son have any fascination with the paranormal? Say, the Madison house?"
"No. He didn't believe in that sort of thing."
"The legend behind the Madison house. Henry killed his wife and daughters. They were buried, he was cremated. Was there another woman who died?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Has another woman disappeared within the past, oh, hundred and fifty years?"
The sheriff snorted. "Yeah, there's plenty of missing people. That means nothing."
"How about a young woman, long brown hair, round face, probably around twenty, twenty five years-"
"I'm sorry, this is not your investigation . . ."
The door opened, and three men stepped through. Alex looked up, and relief flared inside her. It was Sam and Dean.
"Sheriff," Chip said, glancing at Sam and Dean. "It's the FBI." Then he left.
"Agents Lennon and Armstrong." Both Sam and Dean flashed their badges.
Dean turned to Alex. "Anna."
Alex said nothing, studying her hands.
Dean continued. "We've been looking for you for a couple years. Maybe you remember us? From Houston? That was quite a trick you pulled."
Alex let a half smile escape her lips.
Sam glared down at Alex. "We'll take it from here, Mr. Freeman."
Mr. Freeman stood up, studying Sam. "My wife said an Agent Armstrong talked to her about Thomas."
"Yes, that was me. It was a lucky thing I was in town, too. Anna Preston's been wanted for years."
"Now," Dean added, "we're going to need anything you confiscated from her, along with full custody."
"No! She knows something about my son-"
"She has been tracked through several different states," Dean cut in sharply. "That makes is a federal issue, Mr. Freeman. I promise you, we will keep looking into your son's disappearance, but at the moment, she takes priority." Dean lowered his voice. "Once she is taken care of, we will do everything we can to help your son."
"She took him, didn't she! It was her." Mr. Freeman rushed forward, yanking Alex up out of her chair by her collar. Both Sam and Dean stepped forward, pulling them apart.
Freeman, realizing what he did, stood a step back. "Just get her out of here," he growled. Sam roughly grabbed Alex by the arm. She pulled her lip up into a snarl. "We caught her impersonating an officer, and she has two counts of illegal possession of firearms."
"We're going to need any items on her as well."
"She only had one gun on her, but when we find her hideout, there's bound to be more."
Dean blinked. "Was the gun a Colt?"
"Yeah."
"That's the only gun she has."
"What?" Freeman glanced at Alex. She just smiled. He let out a harsh breath. "Just go."
Sam roughly shoved her towards the door. Alex followed. He led her out and put her in the back of the Impala. A few minutes later Dean came out, throwing her ID and gun in the back with her. "Smooth," he muttered.
Alex shrugged, still slightly pissed at them. "You told me to go as a cop. I went as a cop. Why didn't you say he was the sheriff?"
"I didn't know, okay?" Dean angrily shook his head. "Great. Now you gotta lay low."
Alex let out a loud breath and slumped against the seats. "Whatever. Took you long enough."
Sam tossed her phone back to her. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that. I tried to call you. When you didn't answer, we got worried."
Alex unlocked the phone. Two missed calls from Sam. She grunted in acknowledgement of his statement.
...
The drive back to the motel was quiet. Alex sat down on the bed as Sam picked the lock to her handcuffs. She tossed them on the other bed. "Well, bright side is we get to keep those," she muttered, rubbing her wrists. "What'd you guys dig up on the Madison house?"
"The girl you saw was Martha Benson. She was the housekeeper and also rumored mistress of Henry Madison."
Alex grunted, acknowledging the fact she heard him. "Why do you think she's trapped there? And with who? Or is she the only one?"
"We think she's the only one. The wife and daughters were sliced up, but old Henry shot himself."
"So?" Alex reclined on the bed.
"He shot himself two days later. On a Thursday."
"So they were killed on a Tuesday. Wow, that's helpful."
"Shut up and listen."
"Hey. I was just arrested because of you," Alex snapped at Dean. "Maybe I'm not in the best of moods, okay?" However, she tried to calm herself down. "Fine. What else am I missing?"
"She's the housekeeper. She worked Monday through Friday, every week. Chances are she would have noticed they were dead and gone."
"Maybe Henry lied."
"Listen. This is the best shot we got, okay?" Sam sounded exasperated. He closed his folder. "Fine. You stay here. Me and Dean will go check the place out again."
Alex sighed. "Okay. Fine. Have fun, I guess."
She watched them leave, falling back onto the bed. "Stupid Winchesters," she muttered out loud. Bored, she flipped on the tv and grabbed Dean's laptop. She logged on, and opened the internet. She played some game on some website for the rest of the afternoon.
...
Sam and Dean came back around six. Dean tossed her a fast food bag. "Eat. Then we leave."
"What?" Alex studied the men.
Sam had a cut above his left eyebrow, and Dean was walking with a slight limp. His face was twisted into a scowl. "We are so gonna roast that Martha chick. Then we're gonna leave. Get packed."
...
They did, and within five minutes they were on the road. They pulled in front of the graveyard, and got out. Flashlights in hand, they scoured the grounds.
"Here!" Sam called. Alex and Dean hurried over. Sam was kneeling beside a stone, faintly marked Martha Benson. Sam and Dean unfolded their shovels and set to work.
...
It took over an hour and all three's combined effort before they hit the coffin. Sam cracked it open, and Alex pulled herself out of the hole and onto the cold, frozen dirt. She tossed Dean the salt, and Sam the lighter fluid. They quickly salted and burned the bones, climbing out of the hole. Alex held out her frozen hands, seeking the warmth of the flames.
As the fire died down, they began shoveling the dirt back into the grave. Alex helped spread fresh snow over the dirt to hide their tracks before they retraced their steps back to the car.
...
Alex was curled up in the backseat, head resting on her duffle.
She had gotten about an hour of sleep when Dean pulled the Impala off to the side of the road.
"You asleep?" Sam asked, looking back at her.
"No." Alex shook her head.
"Then take shotgun. I'm gonna try and get some shuteye."
Alex did what he said. Sam lay down in the backseat, eyes closed. Alex rested her head against the cool glass, closing her eyes once again.