"What are you doing?" Sam's tired voice roused her from her light sleep.
"What's it look like I'm doing?" Dean asked.
Alex looked over to see him sitting in the driver's seat, a pile of papers in his lap. A small flashlight was held in his teeth, illuminating the words on the page. He took the flashlight out of his mouth, holding it in his left hand.
"Like you're looking for a job."
"Yahtzee."
Sam groaned, sitting up. "We just finished a job, like, two hours ago."
"Adrenaline still pumping, I guess. So, what do you think? Cedar Rapids, Tulsa, or Chi-Town?"
"I'm all for hunting," Sam began. "I really am, but you've had us working cases nonstop for like a month now. We need sleep."
Alex grunted, resting her head on the back of the seat.
"Yeah, we can sleep when you're dead," Dean shot back lightly.
"You're exhausted, Dean."
"I'm good," Dean protested.
"No, you're not. You're running on fumes, and you can't run forever."
"And what am I running from?" Dean didn't look back at his brother. Instead, he kept shuffling through the papers.
"From . . ." Sam glanced at Alex. She said nothing. He lowered his voice. "From what you told me. Or are we pretending that never happened?"
"Stratton, Nebraska. Farm town." Dean held up a piece of paper. "A man gets hacked to death in a locked room inside a locked house. No signs of forced entry."
Sam and Alex exchanged worried glances. "Sounds like a ghost," Sam reluctantly said.
"Yeah, it does."
Sam sighed loudly and laid back down in the backseat. Dean started the car, flicked on the lights, and drove off.
...
They spent the night at a different motel outside of town. Then, they started driving the next day. Dean drove the Impala through a hilly town. The snow has stopped, and the air was warmer than the days behind.
Suddenly they stopped moving. "Dammit!" Dean cursed, trying to accelerate. Alex looked out the window. They were trying to go up a large hill, but, by the looks of it, they were stuck. "Damn," Dean swore again.
Alex chuckled. "We're stuck, aren't we."
"Yeah." Dean glanced at his brother. "Get out and push."
Sam rolled his eyes and let out an amused noise, but did as his brother asked. Alex got out as well. She circled around to the back of the car, planting her hands firmly on the trunk. Sam helped. They started pushing. Alex felt like she was doing very little, her feet slipping on the icy road. Dean slowly pushed on the accelerator, and the wheels spun. Alex kept pushing, and the car moved slightly. Then it stopped. Sam used his shoulder, trying to find a firm stance on the slippery ground.
They tried for five minutes. Dean refused to let Alex drive, even though he was much stronger than her. Finally he gave up. "Get in the car," he called.
Alex looked around. The street was pretty much deserted, and she found herself confused. However, she did what he asked.
They got into the car. "What are we doing?" Alex asked.
In response, Dean threw the car into reverse. He glanced over his shoulder and drove the car backwards down the hill. "Screw this hill," he said. "We'll just go around."
And that they did.
...
Febuary 6th, 2009
Stratton, Nebraska
It was a six hour drive to Stratton, Nebraska. They stopped for a quick breakfast, and then Sam took back the front seat. Alex collapsed in the back, tired. It had been several days since she had gotten a good night's sleep.
They pulled up to a large farm house less than half an hour later. All three got out. Alex stuck her gun filled with salt rounds into her holster, pocketing a second mag filled with real bullets. Then she followed them into the house.
"Boy," Dean remarked, walking through the living room. "Three bedrooms, two baths, one homicide. This place is going to sell like hotcakes." He led them into the kitchen. He and Sam opened the different cabinets, looking to see what was inside. "Hey, check this out." Dean knocked on a part of the wall that had been patched. It was square, about two feet by two feet. It sounded hollow. "Huh."
"It's probably a dumbwaiter," Sam explained. "All old houses had them." He turned back to the cabinets.
"Know-it-all," Dean said quietly.
"What?" Sam turned.
"What?"
"You said . . ."
"What?"
Sam shook his head. "Never mind." He turned his back, pulling out the EMF.
Dean let out a smirk, and Alex held back a chuckle.
...
There was nothing to be found downstairs, nor in the two bedrooms upstairs. They entered the third.
"Well, no bloodstains, fresh coat of paint, it's a bunch of bubkes."
"Needle's all over the place," Sam said quietly, looking down at the EMF.
"Yeah. Power lines." Dean motioned out the window.
Sam sighed frustratedly and put away the device. "Great." He opened a small closet door. "Uh . . ."
Dean glanced at it. "Well, that's super disturbing."
Alex walked around Sam to see what is was. "Ugh." It was a large doll head. The hair had been pulled out, and the cloudy glass eyes were wide open.
"Think it got left behind?" Sam asked, barely hiding his disgust.
"By who?" Dean countered. "Unless Bill Gibson liked to play with doll heads."
Sam closed the closet door. The sound of car caught their attention. All three went over to the window. A large SUV and a moving truck pulled up to the side of the house. "Uh-oh."
Dean looked over at his brother. "I thought you said this place was for sale."
"Apparently it's not."
"Come on." Dean led them back through the house and out the front door.
"Can I help you?" A man walked towards them. A woman, presumably, his wife, stood behind. There was also a boy, a girl, and another man.
"Yes." Sam hurried down the stairs. "Are you the new owner?"
"Get to the car," Dean whispered to Alex.
She nodded and hurried around the house. She got into the backseat, waiting.
Less than a minute later, Sam and Dean came back. They drove off. "What happened?" Alex asked.
"We convinced them to stay at a motel for the night. Hopefully we'll be done by then."
"Okay. Now where?"
"Motel. Then me and Sam are going to do some canvassing."
...
And that's what they did. Alex was dropped off at the motel with Dean's laptop. Sam and Dean changed into their suits and left. Alex flipped on the tv.
...
Dean and Sam brought back dinner, and Alex dug in. "What'd you find?" she asked them.
"Uh, Gibson's wife died during childbirth, daughter hung herself twenty years later," Dean said. "Housekeeper said she's heard rustling in the walls like rats, but never seen any."
"So, ghost then."
"Yup. Sounds like it," Sam agreed. "We'll take care of it tonight."
"Kay."
Little was said the rest of the meal. Sam did some more research on his laptop while Dean and Alex watched tv.
...
Then, around 10:30, they left. Alex grabbed her gun, closing the motel door behind her. They got into the car and drove.
Fifteen minutes later they pulled up the driveway to the farmhouse. "Crap," Dean groaned. The lights to the farmhouse were on. "So, now what?"
Sam let out a breath. "We could tell them the truth," he suggested.
Dean looked over at his brother. "Really?"
Sam actually laughed. "No. Not really."
Dean sighed, putting the car into park. "Well, we'll stake out for a while."
Sam and Alex silently agreed.
Suddenly a scream ripped through the air. All three immediately threw open their car doors and ran up to the house. Sam knocked urgently on the door. A man answered, and they forced their way in.
"We heard screams." Dean stopped, looking around. "What's going on?"
The five people Alex had seen that afternoon were standing in the dark living room. "Oh, you three!" the dad exclaimed. "Did you touch my daughter?"
"What?" Dean looked over at the girl. "No."
Sam and Alex shook their head as well.
"Who are you guys?" the dad continued.
"Relax, please." Sam stepped forward. "You have a ghost."
"A ghost."
"I told you!" the girl exclaimed. She looked terrified.
"It's the girl!" the boy added.
The dad turned to face them. "Both of you, relax." He turned back to Sam. "What you are playing at?"
"Your family's in danger," Dean explained quickly. "You need to get out of the house now." That's when the lights went out. Alex jumped.
"What the hell?" the other man exclaimed.
"Nobody move," Dean commanded.
A howl filled the air. "Buster!" the boy yelled. The dad and the other man hurried out of the house, followed by Sam and Dean. Alex trailed after.
"Buster?" the dad called. "Buster. Buster!"
"What the hell?"
Alex turned at the other man's voice. On the side of the house, two red words were painted. Alex realized it was blood. It read, Too late.
"Buster?" The rest of the family had come out onto the porch.
"Go back inside," the dad ordered. "Now!"
Dean turned to him. "We're not the bad guys," he insisted, "but you're in danger."
"First thing's first," Sam added. "You got to get your family out of here."
"Head to the motel I was talking about. You'll be safe there," Dean finished. He hurried over to his car.
"What are you two going to do?" the dad asked, following.
"Oh, no!" Dean exclaimed. "Oh, come on." He kicked at his tires. "Oh, come on!"
As Alex approached, she saw that the tires had been slashed. "Damn," she hissed.
Sam hurried around to the trunk. He stopped. "Dude, the guns are gone. So is the . . ." he looked over at Dean, shocked. "Basically everything's gone."
"Brian. Truck's no good," the other man called, who Alex now assumed to be the Brian's brother.
"Ted's right," Brian agreed. "Both the tire's slashed."
"What kind of a ghost messes with a man's wheels?!" Dean asked angrily.
"What's going on," the girl asked from the porch. Then she screamed. "She's there! She's there!" She pointed behind them towards the woods.
"Where?!" the mom asked, pulling her daughter tight.
"She was right there in the woods!"
Dean turned to Sam. "What's a ghost doing outside?" he hissed, confused.
"You want to stay and find out?"
"Everybody inside!" Dean ordered.
"Are you crazy?" Ted exclaimed. "We need to get the hell out of here!"
"In what?" Dean snapped. "This ghost is hunting us. Everybody back inside. Now!" Alex hurried into the house, and the others followed.
Dean hurried into the kitchen and came back with a box of kitchen salt. He started pouring it into a large circle. "What are you doing?" Ted asked.
"Whatever's outside, it can't get in the circle. As long as the salt line is unbroken, its the safest place you can be." Dean finished the circle, tossing the box aside.
"Safe from ghosts?" the dad asked unbelievingly.
"Yes, as a matter of fact."
"Okay, I'm not listening anymore. Come on." The dad stepped out of the circle and headed for the door. "I got to get my family out of here. Let's go."
Dean stopped him. "Nobody's going anywhere until we kill this thing," he said quietly.
"Sir, please." Sam tried to reason with him. "This is what we do. Just . . . trust us."
"You hunt ghosts?" the boy asked.
"Uh, yeah," Alex nodded.
"Like Scooby-Doo?"
"I wish." Alex turned back to Dean.
Sam walked over to the young girl. "You saw her outside, right? Does she look like either of these girls?" He held out two pictures.
The daughter studied the pictures closely. "Her." The daughter pointed to one of them. "She was paler and a lot dirtier, but that was her."
"So it's the daughter." Sam turned back to Dean and Alex.
"The girl in the picture - she's dead?" the girl exclaimed.
"She killed herself inside this house," Sam explained.
"So, what. The maid got her story wrong?" Dean suggested. "Rebecca wasn't cremated?"
"Unless her spirit's just attached to something inside this house."
"Yeah," Alex agreed. "But, there's like nothing. We looked ourselves. Well, there was that creepy doll head."
"Yeah, well, she hung herself in the attic, right?" Dean looked up at Sam. "Maybe there's something in there."
"You two wanna babysit? I'll check it out."
"Look," Ted interrupted them. "I don't care who hung themselves where. Maybe something is going on, but -"
"It's a spirit, man," Dean cut him off.
"No, it's just some backwoods hillbilly bitch, and I'm not going about to sit around and wait for her to go all Deliverance on my ass." Ted walked towards the door.
"Well, nobody's going anywhere." Dean stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
"Stop me," Ted dared.
"Listen, man." Dean lowered his voice. "I've got a gun. You don't get your ass back in that circle, you're gonna have yourself a third hole."
Ted glared at Dean, but did as he said.
"Dude," Sam whispered to his brother. "You don't have a gun."
"And?" Dean scoffed. "I'm not letting that bastard or anyone else die tonight."
"Dean, wait." Alex stepped towards him. "I have a gun."
Sam glanced at her. "Salt?"
Alex checked the cartridge. "Uh, no. Just normal bullets. Sorry."
"Whatever."
Sam left. Dean and Alex waited, neither talking.
"Hey, Fonzie." Ted spoke up. "This indestructible force field of salt . . . have to be kosher stuff, or what?"
"Knock it off, Ted," the mom scolded.
There was a faint sound, and both Alex and Dean sprang to alertness. "Sh . . ." Dean warned, motioning for Alex to get back into the circle.
"What was that?" the daughter whispered.
"Be quiet, Kate."
The closet door swung open, and a ragged girl stepped out.
"Mom," Kate whimpered.
"All right, everybody stay calm," Dean said. "She's a ghost. She can't come in the circle."
The girl staggered closer. She stopped near the salt line, looking down at it. A large knife appeared in her left hand, glinting in the moonlight. For several seconds, the ghost continued to stare down at the salt. Then, she stepped over it.
Alex was shocked. She glanced at Dean; his face reflected hers.
"I thought you said ghosts couldn't cross the circle!" the mom exclaimed.
"They can't." Alex could tell Dean was doing his best to stay calm. "She's not a ghost."
"Shoot her!" Ted yelled. "Shoot her!"
"About that . . ."
Alex whipped out her gun, flicking off the safety and cocking it. "Dean," she said.
"What?" Dean stepped in front of the family, protecting them.
"Should I shoot her?!" Alex snapped.
The girl stepped forward. Then she charged at Alex, knife raised, a feral scream escaping her lips. Alex pulled the trigger.
The girl fell dead at her feet, a bullet through her skull. Alex quickly retreated several steps, just in case the bullet didn't kill her. But the girl didn't move. She glanced back at Dean, asking a silent question. Did I do the right thing?
Dean gave the smallest nod of his head.
Footsteps rushed into the room. Sam slid to a halt, flashlight flickering over Alex, Dean, and the dead girl on the floor. "What happened?" he exclaimed.
"It wasn't a ghost," Dean stated bluntly.
"So it's just a girl?" Sam knelt down besides the body and rolled her over. He pried the knife from her fingers, tossing it aside.
"It's not just a girl." Dean walked over to look down at the body. "It's psycho Nell. I'm telling you man - humans."
The flashlight beam rested on the girl's head, showing the bullet hole exactly between the eyes. Sam looked up at Alex, who was still holding her gun. "Nice shot, by the way."
"Thanks."
"You . . . you just killed a girl," Ted finally stammered out.
"Yup." Alex cleared her gun, sticking it back in her holster. "A, uh, crazy girl." She stood beside Dean. "So, who is she?"
"I don't know. The daughter Rebecca?" Dean suggested. "Maybe she didn't hang herself."
"Dude, no." Sam shook his head. "She'd have to be like fifty years old by now."
Alex grunted in agreement.
"Well, I don't know," Dean defended. "What'd you find in the attic?"
"Not much. Some old junk. I found Rebecca's diary. That's about it."
"Hm." Dean looked down at the body. "Let's get her out of her."
Alex watched as he and Sam dragged the body out on to the porch. Then they came back in. "So how'd she get here?" she dared to ask. "If she's not a ghost, how'd she get into the closet?" She cast an uneasy glance over at the closet door.
Dean and Sam exchanged glances and walked over to it. "Get them somewhere safe," he advised Alex, throwing a look towards the others. "We're gonna find our guns."
Alex wordlessly handed him hers. Then she turned to the family. "How far is town from here?"
"A five minute drive. Why?"
"Cause that's where you're going. God knows what else is here." Alex led them out of the house. "Check into that motel, okay? We'll finish things up here."
She watched them hurry down the road. Once they were out of sight, she turned back into the house.
Sam and Dean were checking out the closet. "Here." Dean pulled away a loose board. It revealed a long, dusty passageway between the walls.
"I'll, uh, stay here," Alex smiled nervously.
Dean and Sam rolled their eyes. "The chick's dead," Dean pointed out, but let her have her way. They disappeared into the wall.
Alex paced nervously, feeling vulnerable without her gun. Something came flying out of the wall, and Alex jumped. "Start reading!" Sam yelled.
...
It was ten minutes before Sam and Dean came back. "You missed a lot," Dean grumbled.
Alex put down the journal Sam had thrown at her. "I don't do small spaces with psychotic children. What'd you find?"
"Her kitchen."
Alex narrowed her eyes, but regretfully asked what he meant.
Dean didn't answer her question directly. "Here. Brought you a present." He tossed something at her.
Alex jumped back, letting out a cry of surprise and disgust. It was a dead rat. "Ew. No thanks. Did you find your weapons? More importantly, can I have my gun back?"
"No. Maybe they're not in the house."
"But, uh, I skimmed through the journal," Alex cut in. "And I'm pretty sure that girl was Rebecca's daughter."
"Hm?" Sam held out his hand, and Alex gave the journal to him.
"Yeah. This whole thing talks about how she was pregnant, and how she was so ashamed of being pregnant."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Jeez. Rent Juno and get over it. Did it say why she might have killed herself afterwards?"
"Uh, probably because her dad called her, and I quote, 'a dirty little whore,' and said he was going to lock the baby up."
Sam pulled his face into one of disgust as he realized what she was talking about.
Alex looked over at him. "Mm-hmm."
"What?" Dean didn't get it.
Neither Sam nor Alex said anything.
"Oh. Gross."
"Yup."
"So the daddy was the baby-daddy too?"
"Uh, seems like it."
Sam nodded. "The man was a monster, Dean."
"Wow. Sounds like a story ripped from an Australian headline. Humans, man."
Alex grunted in agreement. "She's probably been locked up her entire life."
"Okay, so what, she's been caged like an animal then busts out and ganks poor old dad? Slash granddad?"
"I guess."
"Well," Dean finally admitted. "I can't say I blame her."
Sam sighed. "I'm sure her life was hell, Dean. But that doesn't get her a free pass for murder."
"Like you know what Hell's like," Dean shot back.
Sam fell into silence.
"Anyways." Alex broke the tense air."So where else would he keep her? If the guns weren't in that hole, she probably had another."
"Yeah." Sam nodded approvingly. "I mean, the kid's got to eat, right? So, unless he fed her through the closet . . ."
"Dumbwaiter." Dean hurried into the kitchen. Sam and Alex followed. She watched as Dean rammed his elbow into the drywall. Sam helped him, and soon they removed the patch over the old dumbwaiter shaft.
"Could've kept her hidden her down there for years. Kept her fed, no one would ever know."
"So you think our stuff's down there?"
"Worth a shot." Sam peered down it.
Alex walked over, looking down. "Gross." She recoiled at the stench.
"Welcome to the job." Dean turned to Sam. "I'll go down. You stay up."
Sam nodded, and Dean crawled into the wall. Alex watched as he disappeared from view.
A minute later they heard a shout from Dean. "Found 'em. Start looking for someway to haul 'em up!"
"Okay," Sam called back down. He turned to Alex. "You heard what he said."
Alex looked around the kitchen. She dug through the cabinets, and then hurried into the hall. She came back with several sheets and a basket. "Will this work?"
Sam nodded. "Yeah. Dean?"
No answer. "Dean!"
There was a single gunshot from below.
"Dean! What's going on?"
"I'm okay, I'm okay." Dean's voice came from below. "I, I was jumped."
"Jumped?" Sam exchanged a glance with Alex. "By what?"
"Another one."
"There were two?"
"Yeah. Just, uh, let's get out of here, okay? Help me get the weapons up."
Alex quickly tied the sheets together and lowered the picnic basket. A few seconds later there was a tug, and Sam pulled it back up. It was full. "Put these away."
Alex gathered the guns in her arms and hurried out the door. She quickly stowed the shotguns in the weapons box, stashing a pistol in her holster. Then she hurried back inside.
...
Within ten minutes, they had everything, and Dean crawled out of the hole. "The body's still down there," he said, running a hand over his face. "God, I hate this." He looked at the stock pile of weapons on the floor. Alex grabbed another handful, and walked back outside. Dan and Sam followed.
...
Everything was put away. Dean leaned against the car. "I need new tires," he grumbled. "Fucking hell. If they weren't already dead, I'd kill them!" He yelled the last few words.
"How are we going to get new tires at this time of night?" Alex agreed. "I'm not spending the night in that house." She looked at the car's clock. Three in the morning. "If you need me I'll be in the backseat."
...
She tried to sleep, but no sleep came. Every time she closed her eyes, images of the crazed girl filled her mind. She ended curling up in the seat. The door opened and Dean slid in next to her. "You okay?"
"Yeah." Alex tried to act nonchalant.
"Hm." Dean looked over at her. "You sure?"
"Yeah. I mean, I'm probably going to see a lot worse than that, so . . ." She ended with a shrug.
...
The next morning the family returned in a rental car. Dean had four tires driven up there, and he quickly changed all of them. He jacked down the car, while Sam walked over to the family. "There were two," he told them. "We put the boy's body next to the girls."
Dean finished, and walked over to them. "Thanks for the head start."
"Why doesn't it surprise me you guys don't like the police?" Brian asked humorously.
"It's sort of a mutual-appreciation thing, really," Sam responded lightly.
"Well, thank you." He shook Dean's hand.
"Thank you," the wife repeated.
"You okay?" Dean asked her.
"No, we're the opposite of okay," she replied, looking down at the ground. "But we're together."
Brian reached out and took his wife's hand.
Dean nodded, then tossed the jack to Alex. She circled around to the trunk, closed the weapon's box, and put the jack on top. She saw Sam and Dean getting into the car, and she did the same. They drove off.
...
They stopped at the motel only to get their things and change. Dean changed out of his clothes and into a black shirt. He pulled his leather jacket on over it, tossing his green jacket and shirt into his bag. Sam did the same. Then he pulled on some thin green sweater before pulling a heavy pale green jacket on.
Alex just put on Dean's Hell Hazers II t-shirt. Then, remember how cold it was outside, grabbed one of Dean's jackets. She situated her necklace under her shirt, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Then they hit the road again. They stopped for breakfast in town at an IHOPs. Alex slid into the booth next to Sam, and Dean sat across from him. "I'm hungry," Alex groaned, resting her head on the table. "And tired."
"You'll live," Sam grumbled. He slid the menu against her face, and Alex groaned dramatically.
She ended up ordering chocolate chip waffles. Sam got bacon and eggs, and Dean got strawberry pancakes. Nothing much was said. At one point Dean pulled out the folder of papers he had brought in, but Alex stopped him. "Dude. No more cases until after lunch."
Sam voiced his agreement. "We need a break, Dean. Just give us a few hours."
...
They kept driving. Around one o'clock, Dean pulled through a burger joint drive-thru. They ordered food, then drove away. Dean eventually pulled the Impala to a stop on an empty road under a bridge. Sam got out, distributing the burgers. Dean leaned against the concrete half-wall, and Alex sat on top of it, leaning her back against a thick pillar. Sam handed her a burger, which she accepted.
Dean unwrapped his food, looked down at it for a second, then rewrapped it. Alex and Sam exchanged a worried glance. Dean never turned down food. "You okay?"
Dean looked up. "You know, I felt for those sorry sons of bitches back there. Lifelong torture turns you into something like that."
"You were in Hell, Dean," Sam reminded. "Look. Maybe you did what you did there, but you're not them. They were barely human."
"Yeah, you're right. I wasn't them. I was worse." Alex couldn't see Dean's face, but the pain in his voice was clear. "They were animals, Sam, defending their territory. Me? I did it for the sheer pleasure."
"What?" Sam looked shocked. He glanced at Alex, who furrowed her brow in disbelief.
"I enjoyed it, Sam. They took me off the rack, and I tortured souls, and I liked it. All those years, all that pain. Finally getting to deal some out yourself. I didn't care who they put in front of me. Because that pain I felt, it just slipped away. No matter how many people I save, I can't change that. I can't fill that hole. Not ever."
Sam blinked, then looked down at his food.
"Well, you're right," Alex said quietly. "You can't change that. Listen, Dean." She hesitated, unsure how to continue.
Either Dean was waiting for her to finish her thought, or he didn't mind that she stopped talking, because he didn't press her. "Whatever." He unwrapped his food once again, looking pitifully down at it.
Alex took a bite of hers. Seeing Dean start to wrap his up again, she kicked him gently in the side with her food. "What happened happened. You can't change it by starving yourself. Eat up." It may not have been the kindest way to put it, but Dean did as she said. Sam glanced at her, the slightest hint of gratefulness in his eyes.
The rest of the meal was in silence.
Just as they were getting back in the car, Alex's phone rang. "Hello? Bobby?"
"Hey girl. You close?"
"Yeah, I'm doing fine, thanks for asking." Alex rolled her eyes. "We're in Nebraska. Why?"
"Nebraska. How fast can you get here?"
"Dunno. A couple hours. Why?"
"I need your help. We've got three hunters working a strange case, and we've got squat. It's always good to have an extra set of eyes."
Alex sighed, rubbing her head. "Yeah, uh, I'll talk to Dean. We'll, uh, I'll be there." She hung up.
"What was that about?"
Alex shook her head wearily. "Bobby needs some help. Can, uh, can you give me a lift?"
Sam and Dean exchanged a look. "It's not that far," Sam added.
Dean nodded. "Yeah, sure. Whatever."
They got in the car and drove off.
...
Six hours later, Alex was walking through the front door. "Bobby. I'm back."
"About time. Get our ass in the study."
Alex rolled her eyes, but did as he said. "A little gratitude next time," she grumbled, sitting down on the couch. "What's your guys' problem?" She glanced over at the three other men in the kitchen. She recognized Felix and Oscar, but the other she didn't know. "Who's the new kid?"
"Carton." Bobby glanced up. "He's been a hunter for a while. And you already know Felix and Oscar."
"Yes." Alex knew them from several months ago, when she was still living with Bobby. The pair of them usually teamed up together, although sometimes Felix would work alone. 'Felix' was just a nickname; his given name was Tony. And that fact that he had teamed up with Oscar gave them the nickname of 'The Odd Couple.'
Bobby broke into her thoughts. "Anyways."
"Yeah. What are we dealing with?"
"We don't know," Felix said. "There's been a string of missing people, but we've never found any bodies."
Alex huffed. "So they might not even be dead. Someone could have just kidnapped them."
"No, we found old bones. Lots of them."
"Yay." Alex glanced over at her stuff. "I'm gonna go put my stuff away. I'll be back down in a few minutes. Then how about food, huh? I'm hungry."
"Okay." Bobby turned back to his books. "Got you something you might like. I put it in your room."
"Uh, cool." Not waiting for another response, she hurried upstairs. She flung her bag in the room, looking around. "What. The. Hell." She walked over to her bookcase, a confused smile growing across her face. "That's a skull. That's a vampire skull."
Sure enough, sitting on her bookcase, sitting on a stand, was a vampire skull, the extra teeth sticking out over the normal teeth. Alex shook her head disbelievingly, not even knowing what to say. She went back downstairs.