August 4th, 2009
Dean parked the car, looking back at Alex. "You coming in?"
"May as well. What are we thinking?"
"Sounds paranormal. Vengeful spirit, maybe." Sa rifled through the glove compartment, handing her a fake ID. "Here. Don't show it unless they're suspicious."
"Thanks." Alex took it, putting it her jacket pocket. While both the Winchesters were dressed in their typical FBI ties and coats, Alex was still wearing her everyday clothes. She opened the door, stepping out onto the sidewalk. They were parked outside a comic book shop. Bobby had referred them here after seeing several news suspicious articles. She waited for Sam and Dean to take the lead before entering the shop. Both Sam and Dean headed for the man who was standing behind the counter.
"Um, can I help you?" the man asked, looking rather bored.
"Sure hope so." Dean pulled out his ID, and Sam followed suit. "Agents DeYoung and Shaw. Just need to ask you a few questions."
"She with you?" The man looked at Alex.
"Agent Phillips." Alex flashed her ID.
"You ain't dressed like your friends here."
"Undercover."
"Aren't you a little young to be FBI?" he persisted.
Alex felt her patience wearing thin. "Sir, I assure you, I meet all of the qualifications."
"Anyways," Dean directed the man's attention back to him, "We just need to ask you a few questions."
"Notice anything strange in the building the last couple of days?" Sam asked.
"Like what?"
Alex wandered farther into the store, looking around.
"Well, some other tenants reported flickering lights."
"Uh, I don't think so. Why?"
"What about noises?" Sam persisted. "Any skittering in the walls, kind of like rats?"
"And the FBI is investigating a rodent problem?"
"It may be much more than that." Alex said seriously. "Now, please. Answer the questions."
"What about cold spots? Feel any sudden drop in temperatures?"
Suddenly the man behind the counter grinned. "I knew it!" he exclaimed, "You guys are LARPing, aren't you?"
Alex's head swiveled.
"Excuse me?" Dean looked confused.
"You're fans."
"Fans of what?" Sam glanced over at Alex, noticing a expression of realization on her face.
"What is LARPing?" Dean added.
"Like you don't know," the man laughed. Seeing their confused faces, he explained. "Live Action Role Playing. And pretty hardcore, too."
"I'm sorry. I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Alex?" Sam looked over at her. "You know what's going on?"
The girl grinned. "It's very, very possible."
"You're asking questions like the building's haunted. Like those guys from the books. What were they called?"
"Supernatural?" Alex guessed.
"Yeah. Supernatural. Two guys, using fake ID's with rock aliases, hunt down ghost demons, vampires. What are their names? Uh, Steve and Dirk? Sal and Dane?"
"Sam and Dean?" Dean suggested.
"That's it!"
"Are you saying this is a book?"
"Books," the man corrected. "It's a series. Didn't sell a lot of copies, though. Kind of had more of an underground cult following." He stepped out from behind the counter and walked farther into the store. Sam and Dean followed. He stopped by a large bin filled with books. It was labeled, 'Bargain Bin.' He rifled through it. "Let's see. Uh, yeah." He pulled out a book. "That's the first one, I think."
Dean took it. "Supernatural. By Carver Edlund." He turned it over and read the back cover aloud. "Along a lonely California highway, a mysterious woman in white lures her men to their deaths."
"Let me see that." Sam took the book from Dean. After looking it over, he looked up at the man. "We're going to need all the copies of Supernatural you've got."
The man nodded, hurrying off into the back of the store.
"Now our lives are books as well?" Dean turned to Alex.
"Yeah. Personally, I think the tv show is the best. But the books might be good too." Alex shrugged.
"Okay. We've got to find this Carver Edlund." Sam opened to the first page of his book.
"Saving people, hunting things. The family business," Alex said randomly.
"Excuse me?" Dean looked down at her.
"Oh. That's a line from the show. It's probably in the book too. You said it."
"Yes, I know I said it."
"You also said, 'Dad went on a hunting trip-."
"-and hasn't been home in a few days." Sam finished, reading off a page. "It's all right here. Everything."
The man came back with a stack of books. "This is everything we have." He dropped them all on the front desk. Alex picked up one. Mystery Spot. She vaguely heard Dean buy all the books, and quickly realized they were leaving. She hurried out to the car.
Sam and Dean put all the books into the backseat with Alex. She picked up the first one, flipping through it. Dean started the car, driving off towards their motel. She read aloud, "Driver picks the music-"
"-shotgun shuts his cakehole," both she and Dean finished.
"I like that rule. Good car rule," Alex stated.
"Thank you. And it's still a car rule."
Alex chuckled. "Good."
Dean didn't reply, but quickly drove off.
...
They pulled into their motel a few minutes later. Alex helped carry in the books. She dumped them on the bed. Dean grabbed one and started to read, while Sam sat at the kitchen table, laptop out. Alex did a quick inventory of the books they had. Alex picked Mystery Spot up again and resumed reading. If she remembered it correctly, she really loved this episode.
...
About an hour later, Dean put down the book he had read: Route 666. "This is freakin insane!" he exclaimed. "How's this guy know all this stuff?"
"You got me." Sam looked up from his laptop. "Alex?"
"Hm. Not sure enough to share my thoughts yet." She looked up from her book. "Sorry."
Sam just rolled his eyes.
"It's not possible. Everything is in here. I mean, everything. From the racist truck to-to me having sex. I'm full frontal in here, dude." Alex made no comment, studying her book. She heard Dean stand, and she looked up to see him walk over to Sam. She followed. "How come we've never heard of them before?" Dean asked.
"They're pretty obscure," Sam answered. "I mean, almost zero circulation. Uh, started up in '05. The publisher put out a couple dozen books before going out of business." Alex leaned over Sam's shoulder, studying the webpage. "And, uh, the last one, No Rest for the Wicked-"
"That's the one where Dean goes to Hell." Alex broke in.
"Yeah, exactly." Sam turned the laptop so Dean could see the screen as well.
"I reiterate. Freaking insane."
"Ooh. Big words," Alex joked. Neither reacted, and she rolled her eyes.
Dean leaned over, scrolling through the web page. "They're actually fans?" He asked. "I mean, there's not a lot, but have you read some of this stuff?"
"Uh, yeah." Sam nodded.
"Man. For fans, they sure do complain a lot." Dean shifted as Alex squeezed in between him, reading.
"Listen. Simpatico says, 'the demon storyline is trite, cliche, and overall craptastic." She chuckled.
"Yeah, well screw you Simpatico," Dean grumbled. "We lived it."
"Yeah, well, keep reading. It gets better."
"There are 'Sam' girls and 'Dean' girls? And-what a 'slash fan'?" Dean looked up to see a grin on Alex's face. "What?"
"As in, Sam slash Dean." Sam explained. "Like, together." He glanced to his right, lip pulled up into the faintest hint of disgust.
"Like, together together?" Dean looked from Alex to Sam.
"Yeah," Sam grimaced, and Alex couldn't hold back a smile.
"They do know we're brothers, right?"
"Doesn't seem to matter." Sam seemed uncomfortable. Dean shut the laptop, disgusted.
Dean looked up at Alex. "Well, you don't seem shocked," he pointed out dryly.
"Nah. I'm use to this." She walked back over to the bed. "And by the way, they call it Wincest. In case you were wondering." She heard both Sam and Dean make a sickening noise, and she bit back a snicker. "You gotta admit that's clever."
"That, that is just disgusting."
Alex laughed out loud. "I've got a whole lot more of stuff like that." She tapped her head for emphasis. "For any time I have to knock you down a peg or two."
Neither Sam nor Dean responded, but Alex could tell she had won.
"Okay. We have to go find this Carver Edlund," Dean decided.
"It might not be that easy," Sam pointed out.
"Why not?"
"No tax records, no known address; looks like 'Carver Edlund' is a pen name."
"Uh, yeah." Alex looked over at him. "Already knew that."
"Oh, okay. Thanks for telling us." Dean shot her a glance. "Then what's his real name?"
"Hm. Not totally sure. It's Chuck something. I know his first name is Chuck, because Chuck is cool. Last name? Not really sure."
"Well, that's something to go on," Sam grumbled.
"Come on. Someone's got to know who this guy is." Dean stood up.
"Well, we could try the publishing agency." Sam suggested. "It's called Flying Wiccan Press. Located in south Baltimore."
"Three hours out," Dean informed them, leaning back in his chair.
"When we leaving?" Alex jumped onto the bed, disrupting the books that were on it. She ignored them.
"Right now." Dean stood up, grabbing his jacket. "Pack your things." He quickly threw all of his stuff into his duffle bag. Alex rolled her eyes, but obediently did as he asked. She also put the books in her bag, wanting to keep them. She'd read them in the car.
...
Baltimore, Maryland
They arrived in Baltimore by late afternoon. Alex took up her usual spot of walking behind Sam and Dean. She followed them into to a small office where a woman was sitting, flipping through a stack of papers. She was young with brown hair, though her bangs were dyed blonde. When the approached, she stood up. "Are you the reporters?" she asked. Alex decided she didn't like her.
"Uh, yeah," Sam answered. "So you published the Supernatural books?"
"Yep. Yeah, oh gosh," the lady nodded. "These books - you know, they never really got the attention they deserved. All anybody wants to read is that romance crap. You know, Dr. Sexy MD?"
"That's a book?" Alex could barely hide her disgust. "And I thought it was bad enough as a show."
The woman nodded in agreement. "I know!"
"Right." Sam stopped Alex from responding. "Well, we're hoping our article can, shine a light on an under appreciated series."
"Yeah, yeah, because, you know, if we got a little bit of good press than m-maybe we could start publishing again." The woman looked up at Sam, hopefully.
"No, no," Dean said immediately. "No, no. God no." Alex held in a smile, looking over at the older hunter. "I mean why-why would you want to do that?" Dean quickly covered his tracks. "You know it's, uh, such a complete series, what with Dean going to Hell and all."
The woman's face immediately became much more emotional, and Alex inwardly rolled her eyes. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed, placing a hand on her chest. "That was one of my favorite ones because Dean was so . . . strong . . . and sad and brave."
Alex looked over to see Dean's expression. She grinned at the sight.
"And Sam," the woman continued. "I mean, the best parts are when they'd cry." Alex bit back a snicker. "You know, like in 'Heart' where Sam had to kill Madison, the first girl since Jess he really loved. And in 'Home', where Dean had to call John and ask him for help." Her eyes started to water, and she looked away. "Gosh. If only real men were as open and in touch with their feelings."
"Real men?" Dean glanced at Sam, and then over at Alex. She grinned, and Sam nudged her harshly.
"No offense." The woman quickly backtracked. "But how often do you cry like that, hmm?"
"Well, right now I'm crying on the inside," Dean replied dryly.
"He cries when he gets a paper cut," Alex added helpfully. Dean shot her a glare, and she laughed. "But I love the books. I really do." She glanced at the two brothers. "Who do you like more? Sam or Dean?"
"Gosh, I don't know." The publisher looked absolutely torn. "I mean, Dean is so strong, but Sam . . ."
"I like Dean." Alex stated simply. "Sammy's a little too dysfunctional for my taste."
Sam kicked her, and the publisher looked throughly offended. "He is not dysfunctional!" she exclaimed. "He's a sweet, brave man."
"Of course he is," Alex said smoothly. "I mean, I'm sure he's great fun on a good day."
"Why are you here?" the woman asked. "Aren't you a little young?"
"Well, I don't actually work for the paper. But when I heard about this story, I had to come along," Alex explained. "I mean, I love the books. Wouldn't it be so cool if they were made into a show?"
"Yes"!" The woman nodded her head vigorously. "That would be amazing. But how do I know you guys are legit?" Her brown eyes darkened with guarded curiosity.
"Oh, trust me." Dean nodded. "We're legit."
"Well, I don't want any smart ass article making fun of my boys."
"Oh, no no," Sam stammered." Never."
" No, that's-"
"They're actually huge fans too," Alex said above them.
"Hmm." The publisher studied Sam and Dean. "You read the books?"
"Cover to cover," Dean promised.
"Umm-hmm," Sam agreed.
The woman narrowed her eyes. "What's the year and model of the car?"
"It's a 1967 Chevy Impala," Dean answered smugly.
"What's May 2nd?"
"That's my-uh, Sam's birthday."
"January 24th is Dean's." Dean added.
"And January 19th is Alex's." Alex put in. She was ignored.
"What was Sam's score on the LSAT?"
Sam looked over at Dean, completely at a loss. "Uh, one . . . seventy four?"
"Dean's favorite song?"
"It's a tie. Between Zep's 'Ramble On' and 'Traveling Riverside Blues'."
"Okay, okay." The publisher seemed satisfied. "What do you want to know?"
"What's Carver Edlund's real name?"
"Oh, no." The woman shook her head. "I can't do that."
"It's Chuck something, isn't it?" Alex tipped her head to one side. "I met him once. Can't remember his last name though." The woman shook her head defiantly.
"Listen," Sam tried, "We just want to talk to him. You know, get the Supernatural story in his own words."
"He's very private. Like Salinger."
"Please. Like I said, we're big, big fans." He slowly unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, revealing the anti-possession symbol tattooed on his chest. "Big fans." He nudged Dean, who rolled his eyes, but reluctantly revealed his tattoo as well.
The woman licked her lips, and Alex glanced up at the ceiling. "Awesome," the woman told them. "You know what?" She started to turn around, starting to lift up her skirt. Alex immediately studied her shoes. "I've got one too," she heard the lady say. She glanced over at Sam's shoes. Look, she thought, distracting herself, he has shoes too. Good for him. Wow they're big.
"Whoa," Dean spoke. "You are a fan."
Alex heard the sound of a pencil on paper, and deemed it safe enough to look up. The woman handed a piece of paper to Sam. "His name is Chuck Shurley, and he's a genius. So don't piss him off."
"Shurley. Right." Alex mumbled it under her breath.
"Uh, yeah. Okay. Thanks." Sam nodded his thanks, and immediately turned to leave. Alex hurriedly followed.
When they exited the building, Sam finally spoke. "Dysfunctional?"
Alex laughed. "Don't get me wrong." She bumped shoulders with the moose of a man. "You're okay, but you're a little on the crazy side."
Sam pointedly changed the subject. "So. It looks like this Chuck fellow lives only about an hour from here," he informed them.
"Let's go." Dean got into the Impala, and Alex followed suit.
...
They pulled up to the address they were given. Alex studied the house. It was old and rundown. She cocked an eyebrow in confusion, but said nothing.
"Come on." Dean got out, pocketed the keys, and led the way up to the house. Sam followed, and Alex trailed behind. They climbed the front steps, looking nervously around. Dean paused, exchanging a glance with Sam, then rung the doorbell.
A few seconds later, a man answered the door. Alex recognized him immediately. Brown curly hair, ragged striped bathrobe, tired appearance. Definitely Chuck Shurley.
"Are you Chuck Shurley?" Dean asked.
"Maybe. Why?" The man looked at all three of them, wariness in his eyes.
"I'm Dean. This is Sam. The Dean and Sam you've been writing about."
"And I'm Alex. Hello," Alex added.
Chuck closed the door. Dean rung the doorbell again, and Chuck reopened it. "Look, uh, I appreciate your enthusiasm. I really do. It's, uh, it's always nice to hear from fans. But, uh, for your own sake, I strongly suggest you get a life." He closed the door again, but Dean reached out to stop him.
"See, here's the thing. We have a life. You've been using it to write your books." He roughly shoved the door open and walked inside. Sam and Alex followed.
Chuck backed up to let them in. "Now, wait a minute. Now, this isn't funny," he protested.
"Damn straight it isn't funny," Dean retorted.
Alex looked around. The small interior was messy, filled with empty bottles and papers. She wrinkled her nose; it smelled weird too.
"Look," Sam spoke up. "We just want to know how you're doing it."
"I'm not doing anything!"
"Are you a hunter? "Dean persisted. Alex snickered at the thought of Chuck hunting.
"What? No, I'm a writer."
Dean turned on Chuck. "Then how do you know so much about demons?" he challenged. He advanced on Chuck. "And Tulpas? And changlings?" Chuck stepped back, falling back onto the couch.
"Is this some type of 'Misery' thing?" Chuck looked up at them. "Ah, it is, isn't it? It's a 'Misery' thing!"
"No! It's not a 'Misery' thing!" Dean snapped. "Believe me, we are not fans!"
"Well, then what do you want?"
"I'm Sam. And this is Dean."
"Sam and Dean are fictional characters! I made them up! They're not real!" Chuck stood up.
Sam and Dean exchanged a glance. "Fine." Dean huffed. "We'll prove it. Come on." He led him out of the house and across the street to the car.
"Nice car," Chuck muttered.
"Thanks. It was my dad's." Walking to the front seat, he opened the door, leaning in and popping the trunk. Then he circled around to the back. Alex followed. Dean pushed the crap out of the way and popped open the false bottom, revealing their hunting supplies. Out of caution, Alex cast a quick look around.
"Are those real guns?" Chuck asked, and Alex looked up to see his face was one of pure shock.
"Yep. This is real rock salt, and these are real fake ID's." Dean touched each item in turn.
"Well, I got to hand it to you guys. You really are my number one fans." He took a step back, obviously still very nervous. "That's, that's awesome. So, I-I think I got some posters in the house." He took another step back.
"Chuck, stop." Dean stepped forward.
"Please," Chuck begged. "Wait. Please. Don't hurt me."
"How much do you know?" Sam went forward to join his brother. "Do you know about the angels? Or Lilith breaking the seals?"
Chuck paused, looking confused. "Wait a minute. How do you guys know about that?"
"The question is how do you?" Dean shot back.
"Because I wrote it?"
"You kept writing?" Sam glanced back at Alex. She shrugged.
"Yeah. Even after the publisher went bankrupt, but those books never came out. Okay. Wait a minute. This is some kind of joke, right?" He smiled. "Did that - did Phil put you up to this?"
Alex shook her head, glancing up at Sam. "Phil?" she repeated.
"Well, nice to meet you." Dean shut her up with a nudge. "I'm Dean Winchester, and this is my brother Sam."
"And I'm Alex," the girl chirped. "I don't have a last name."
Chuck stared, shocked and amazed. "The last names were never in the books. I never told anybody. I never even wrote it down."
Alex smiled. "Hope that proves it then."
Chuck shook his head in disbelief. "This isn't real." He turned away, walking back across the street towards his house. They followed. He walked through the front door, and Alex followed. Sam and Dean hesitated, but followed her.
They found Chuck in the kitchen, a glass in hand. He poured himself a bottle of whiskey, and quickly gulped it down. Sam and Dean stood behind Alex. Chuck turned around, letting out a large groan. "Oh. Oh, you're still here."
"Yep."
"You're not a hallucination."
"Nope." Alex chuckled slightly. She looked down at the kitchen table, which was covered with papers and a laptop.
"Well, there's only one explanation," Chuck concluded. "Obviously I'm a god."
Alex snorted in laughter.
"You're not a god," Sam told him.
"How else do you explain it? I write things and they come to life. Yeah, no, I'm definitely a god. A cruel, cruel, capricious god. The things I put you through . . . the physical beatings alone." Chuck looked so distraught that Alex had to advert her gaze to keep herself together.
"Yeah, we're still in one piece," Dean promised.
"I killed your father, I burned your mother alive. And then you had to go through the whole horrific deal again with Jessica-"
"Chuck," Sam interrupted him.
Chuck turned to Alex. "And you. What I put you through with Sam - I almost killed you off!"
"Well, thanks for not," Alex replied sarcastically.
"And all for what? All for the sake of literary symmetry! I toyed with your lives, emotions, for, entertainment!"
"You didn't toy with us, Chuck, okay?" Dean said, patience wearing thin. "You didn't create us."
"Did you really have to live through the bugs?" Chuck ignored him.
"Yeah," Dean nodded.
"What about the ghost ship?"
"Yes, that too."
"I am so sorry," Chuck apologized. "I mean, horror is one thing, but to be forced to live bad writing? If I had known it was real, I would have done another pass."
"Chuck, you're not a god!" Dean snapped.
Alex pretty much lost it. She bit her lip, trying desperately not to laugh. When that didn't work, she covered it with a cough, thumping her chest to catch her breath. Sam shoved her. "Ow," Alex groaned. "Not nice, Sammy."
Sam ignored her "We think you're probably just psychic," he told Chuck.
"No," Chuck scoffed. "If I were psychic, do you think I'd be writing?" He sat down on at the kitchen table. "Writing is hard!"
"It seems somehow, you're just . . . focused on our lives." Sam explained.
"Yeah. Like, laser-focused."
Chuck looked up. "Wait wait wait. Uh, what about that one blogger? On, uh, on that Supernatural website. And they know about you. Like everything about you. Like I said, the last names were never given. What about them? Are they, like, psychic too?"
Alex bit her lip. "Uh, Chuck, is that blogger called not-actually-a-winchester by any chance?"
"Yeah." Chuck looked up at her. "You know him?"
"Her, actually." Alex looked over at the Winchesters who were glaring at her. "Sorry, I get bored."
"You're the blogger?" Dean shook his head angrily. "Our lives are not for public consumption, dammit!"
"I just answer questions they have and stuff." Alex shrugged her shoulders. "No biggie."
Frustrated, Dean turned back to Chuck. "Are you working on anything right now?"
Realization crossed Chuck's face. "Holy crap," he breathed.
"What?"
"The, uh, latest book? It's, uh, it's kind of weird." He picked up a stack of papers from the table.
"Weird how?" Sam said slowly.
"It's very Vonnegut."
Dean watched the writer intently. "'Slaughterhouse Five' Vonnegut or 'Cat's Cradle' Vonnegut?"
"What?" Sam looked at his brother, obviously shocked Dean knew what Chuck was talking about. Alex had to admit she was lost as well.
Dean pulled a defensive face. "What?"
"It's, uh, 'Kilgore Trout' Vonnegut," Chuck admitted. "I wrote myself into it. I wrote myself, at my house . . . confronted by my characters."
"Oh." Dean seemed shocked. "Uh, can we see it?"
"Uh, yeah, yeah. Sure." He handed the papers to Dean.
"The Monster at the End of the Book," Dean read.
"I'm, uh, it's a working title," Chuck explained.
"I like it," Alex shrugged.
"Uh, yeah. Can we, borrow, this for a little while?"
"Uh, yeah, yeah. Sure." Chuck just seemed to want them out of her house.
"Is this all?" Alex studied the papers. "That's not a lot."
"It's only partially done." Chuck glanced nervously around. "Well, would you, uh, look at the time?"
They took the hint and left.
...
When they pulled into their hotel, the sun was setting. After checking in, Alex found herself sitting on the bed, watching Dean read the book-in-progress. The running of water in the pipes above was a constant reminder that Sam was still in the bathroom, taking a shower. Alex sighed, falling back onto the bed. She was bored. Yawn.
The water stopped, and after a few minutes, the bathroom door opened. "Hey," Sam stepped out. "We really need to get to some laundromat or something. I'm almost out a clean clothes."
Dean glanced up. "If it doesn't smell, it can wait."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Dude, that's disgusting." He ran his hand through his drying hair. "Come on. When's the last time you washed your clothes?"
"Never," Alex answered for him.
Dean shook his head. "Fine." He gave up, getting to his feet. "You're so picky." He grabbed the car keys. "Get your clothes, and let's go."
Alex did as he said.
...
They drove to the nearest laundromat. Dean parked the car, got out, and hurried inside. Sam and Alex followed. Alex threw all of the whites into one machine and turned it on. Dean sat down, picking up the manuscript he had brought with him. "I'm sitting in a laundromat reading about myself sitting in a laundromat reading about myself." He let out a huff of amusement. "My head hurts."
"There's got to be something this guys not telling us," Sam said.
Dean continued. " 'Sam tossed his gigantic darks into the machine. He was beginning to have doubts about Chuck, about whether he was telling the whole truth.' " He looked up at Sam, who closed the machine's door.
He turned to Dean. "Stop it," Sam said.
" ''Stop it,' Sam said.' Guess what you do next."
Sam didn't answer, but turned away.
" 'Sam turned his back to Dean, his face brooding and pensive.' " He paused. "I mean, I don't know how this guy is doing it, but this guy is doing it. I can't see your face, but those are definitely your 'brooding and pensive' shoulders."
Alex chuckled, turning away from them. She heard Sam let out an exasperated sigh.
"You just thought I was a dick," Dean read.
"The guys good," Sam admitted.
Alex stifled another chuckle. A dick? she thought. I wouldn't call him a dick. Well, not all the time. 50% of the time, I suppose. More of a dork. A big, geeky dork.
"Wow. Thanks, Alex." Dean looked up from the manuscript.
"Hm?" Alex turned. "Oh, you're welcome." She walked over to Dean. "Can I see that?"
"Uh, no?" Dean held it out of reach.
"Dean," Alex whined.
"Alex," Dean whined back sarcastically.
"Why not?" Alex crossed her arms. "Are you hiding something? 'Cause I probably already know about it. TV show, remember? I got to see it."
"Pfft. I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just not done reading it, okay?"
Alex rolled her eyes. "Fine, whatever. Can I have it when you're done?"
"Fine." Dean started to read it again, and Alex walked over to Sam, bored.
...
They got back to the motel within the hour. Alex collapsed on the bed, willing sleep to come. Dean was sitting at the kitchen table with Sam. They were deep in conversation, drinking beer. Dean was flipping through the manuscript, constantly pointing things out. "Hey, can I see that yet?" she asked.
Dean looked up, then sighed. "Fine. Come get it."
Alex rolled her eyes. "Jerk," she muttered, but did as he said. She sat back down on the bed, and began to read. "This thing definitely needs a second pass," she eventually told them. Reaching over to the nightstand, she grabbed a pen. "I mean, listen to this. 'Then, with determination, Dean pushed the doorbell with forceful determination.' Beautiful. How about this instead. 'Dean determinately determined the door with determined determination.' I like that better." She wasn't sure is they were even listening, but Dean let out a huff of amusement, so Alex took it. "How about, 'Then, with a forceful determination, Dean pushed the doorbell.' " She wrote the changes in. "I'll just do a little editing," she told whoever was listening. Hearing no words of protest, she did just that.
...
At some point she must have drifted off, because when she opened her eyes, sunlight was streaming through the windows. "Rise and shine Alex," Dean said, lifting the covers to roll her off the bed.
Alex let out a surprised cry as she hit the floor. "Ow," she whined, rolling onto her back. She looked up at Dean, who was walking away. "Aren't you going to help me up?"
Dean looked back at the girl on the floor, then rolled his eyes. He walked away.
Alex got to her feet. "Where's the Samster?" she asked.
"Breakfast run." Dean told her. "I'm gonna take a shower. Save me food."
"Okay." As soon as he went into the bathroom, Alex walked over to her bag. She pulled out two shirts: a black t-shirt and a navy green plaid one. She quickly changed.
As she pulled the black shirt over her head, the door opened, and Sam stepped in. "Hey."
"Hey." Alex glanced over at him. "Breakfast?"
Sam nodded, tossing a fast food bag onto the table. "Dig in." He put down two cups of coffee, then handed Alex a cup as well.
She took it, giving it a sniff. "Yay. Cooler?" Sam nodded. She took a sip. "Yum." Then she sat down at the table, opening the bag. "Bagels." She pulled one out, unwrapped it, and took a bite.
Dean's phone rang. "Can someone get that?" Dean yelled.
Alex answered. "Yeah, hello?"
"Hey, it's, it's, uh, Chuck."
"Oh. Yeah. Chuck. How's it going?" When he didn't answer, Alex glanced over at Sam. "You still there?"
"Yeah. C-Could you guys come over? I, uh, I wrote another chapter."
"Yeah, sure. We'll be there soon." Alex hung up, and walked over to the bathroom. She pounded on the door. "Hurry up in there! Chuck called, we're heading over there. You're driving." She walked back over to Sam.
"What's up with Chuck?" he asked.
"He wrote another chapter," Alex said bluntly.
Sam stiffened slightly. "Oh."
The bathroom door opened. "What?" Dean leaned out, shirtless.
"Put your clothes on," Alex told him. "Chuck's done some more writing. We're going over."
Dean closed the door, then emerged a minute later, fully dressed. "Okay. Let's go then." He slipped his necklace over his head and grabbed the car keys. Alex turned to follow, reaching up to feel her necklace as well.
...
It was a ten minute drive to Chuck's. He let them in, leading them into the living room. He was holding several pages of paper, pacing back and forth.
"So," Sam broke the building silence. "You wrote another chapter?"
"This was all so much easier before you were real," Chuck told them nervously.
"We can take it; just spit it out." Dean sat down in one of the chairs, patience wearing thin.
Chuck glanced at him. "You especially are not going to like this."
"I didn't like Hell," Dean snapped.
Chuck hesitated. "It's Lilith. She's coming for Sam."
"Coming to kill him?"
"When?" Sam asked at the same time.
"Tonight." Chuck answered Sam, but ignored Dean.
"She's just going to show up? Here?" Dean asked again.
Chuck sat down, putting on his glasses. Uh, let's see. Uh," he nervously began reading. "Lilith patted the bed seductively. Unable to deny his desires, Sam succumbed, and they sank into the throes of fiery demonic passion."
Alex raised an eyebrow, while both Dean and Sam visibly stiffened. Sam let out a nervous laugh. "You're kidding, right?"
"You think this is funny?" Dean snapped at his brother.
"You don't? I mean come on! 'Fiery demonic passion'?"
"It's just a first draft," Chuck defended his writing quietly.
"Wait wait wait wait." Dean held up his hands. "Lilith is a little girl."
"Her vessel was a little girl," Alex reminded him.
Chuck agreed. "This time she's a, 'comely dental hygienist from Bloomington, Indiana'."
"Great," Dean muttered. "Perfect. So what happens after the - 'fiery demonic' whatever?"
"I don't know," Chuck admitted. "It hasn't come to me yet."
"Dean, look, there's nothing to worry about. Lilith and me? In bed?" Sam let out another unbelieving laugh.
Dean looked over a Sam. "How does this whole psychic thing of yours work?" he asked Chuck, still holding Sam's gaze.
"You, you mean my process?"
"Yeah. Your 'process'."
"Well, it usually starts with a headache. A really bad headache. Aspirin is useless, so I drink. Until I fall asleep. The first time it happened, I thought it was just a crazy dream-"
"The first time you dreamed about us?"
"It flowed, it just kept flowing. It still does. I-I can't stop it, really."
"You can't seriously believe-" Sam began.
"Humor me," Dean said loudly. He stood up, and Chuck stood as well, handing him the manuscript. "Look. why don't we, we just take a look at theses and see what's what." He took the pages from Chuck. He paused. "You-"
"-knew you were going to ask for that," Chuck finished. "Yeah."
Dean nodded, slightly disconcerted. "Great." He walked towards the door. Sam slowly followed.
Alex handed Chuck the manuscript from yesterday. "I proof-read it. Made a few changes. And, uh," she lowered her voice, "let's keep the embarrassing stuff about me to a minimum, okay?"
"It's not really my choice-"
"But it's your choice what you put in the final copy, right? I'm not saying take me out completely. Just not too much. You know, with the future tv show stuff, right? Don't need those two knowing about their destinies, right?" She motioned toward the door where the Winchesters had left from.
"Uh, yeah." Chuck nodded nervously. "Sure."
"Cool." Alex patted him on the shoulder. A honk made her jump, and she recognized it as from the Impala. "Got to go." She ran out of the door and jumped into the Impala. "Where we off to?"
"Out of town," Dean said gravely, starting up the car.
Sam was looking at the latest pages. "I can't believe you Dean. You seriously think this guy is telling the truth? I mean, come on." He started reading. " 'The minivan accident wasn't that bad, but Dean was still seeing stars. He scratched absently at the pink flower Band-Aid on his face.' "
"So?" Dean looked over at his brother.
"So, I've seen you gushing blood. You'd use duct tape and bar rags before you put on a pink flower Band-Aid."
"What's your point?"
"My point is, all of this is totally implausible. It's nuts."
"He's been right about everything so far," Dean argued. "You think he's just gonna ground out at first now?"
Sam let out a huff, and continued to read. "' Dean slid behind the wheel of his beloved Impala, with Alex beside him. They drove off, the plastic tarp on the rear window flapping like the wings of a crow.' "
Alex leaned forward. "I'd reword that last sentence. Maybe something like, 'the plastic tarp on the rear window flapping in the wind.' Works better."
"A tarp?" Dean asked.
"Yeah. On the rear window. And you drive it like that," Sam scoffed.
"Well, he might wrong about the details, but it doesn't mean he's wrong about the end result."
"So we're just gonna run?" Sam looked out the window.
"Dude, we're far from ready for a face-to-face death match with Lilith." Dean slowed the car, and Alex looked up to see police cars and road blocks ahead. A police officer approached, and Dean leaned out the window. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked.
"Bridge is out ahead," the officer told them.
"We're just trying to get out of town," Dean explained, letting out a small laugh.
The officer shook his head. "Yeah, afraid not."
"Is there a detour?"
"Nope."
"There's not a side road that takes us out to the highway?"
"To get to the highway, you have to cross that river, and to cross that river, you have to take that bridge."
Dean started to get desperate. "How deep is that river?"
"Sorry." The officer shrugged. "Afraid you guys are going to have to spend the night in town."
Dean cast a sorrowful look at his brother, but turned the car around and drove away.
"Okay. That didn't go as planned. "Alex leaned between them. "So how about some lunch?" She cast a quick glance at the clock. It was a little past twelve. When neither Sam nor Dean responded, Alex added, "We've got nothing better to do. May as well grab some grub, figure out our next plans."
Finally Dean sighed. "Fine, okay. Whatever."
...
They pulled into a nice looking diner a few minutes later. Going inside, they found the interior decorated in a log-cabin fashion. Alex liked it. They were escorted to their table, and Alex sat between Sam and Dean. Dean had brought in the manuscript, and, after ordering beers for him and Sam and a Mountain Dew for Alex, he began to read.
"Hey, this could be a good thing," he finally said. "I mean, if this is what puts us on the path to Lilith, then all we got to do is get off the path."
"How do you mean?" Sam put down the menu, glancing up at his brother.
"It's a blueprint of what not to do. I mean, if the pages say we should go left-"
"Then we go right," Sam finished, catching on. Alex hid a small smile, wishing them good luck with that plan. Dean held out the manuscript, and Sam took it.
"Exactly." Dean put down the papers. "We get off-book, we never make it to the end. It's opposite day. It says, uh, we get into a fight. So no fighting. No research for you-"
"No bacon cheeseburger for you," Sam added.
Dean's smile immediately faded. "Yeah, uh, no problem. I'll just get something else." The waitress approached their table. Dean looked up at her. "Hi, uh, what's good?"
"Well, if you like burgers, Oprah's girlfriend said we have the best bacon cheeseburgers in the country."
Sam let out a small laugh, and Alex smiled.
"Really?" Dean asked, conflict in his eyes.
"I'll just have the cobb salad, please," Sam told the waitress.
Dean looked down at the menu. "And I'll have . . . the veggie tofu burger."
Alex chuckled. "What does it say I have?"
"Double bacon cheeseburger," Sam read. Dean scowled.
"I'll have the double bacon cheeseburger," Alex told the waitress. She nodded, then left.
"Dude, what happened to our plan?" Dean snapped.
"Relax. Lilith's not going to kill us because I eat a cheeseburger," Alex scoffed.
Sam agreed, "This whole thing is ridiculous."
"Lilith is ridiculous?" Dean glanced at his brother.
"The idea of me hooking up with her is."
"Right. Because something like that could never happen."
Sam scowled, but forced himself to be calm. "Dean, for the first time, we have warning that Lilith is close."
"So?"
"So, we've got the jump on her. If we know when's she's coming, we know where's she's - it's an opportunity."
"Are you-" Dean snapped, then stopped. He lowered his voice. "It frustrates me when you say such reckless things."
"Well it frustrates me when you'd rather hide than fight," Sam hissed.
Alex huffed in amusement. "Good job on not fighting."
The waitress approached, carrying their food. "A cobb salad for you, the double bacon cheeseburger for you, and the tofu veggie burger for you." She handed each of them their plates.
"Thanks." Alex looked down at her food. It looked really good. She took a bite. Yum.
"It's not hiding," Dean continued, "it's being smart. It's picking your battles. This is a battle we're not ready to fight." He took a bite of his food, then stopped. "Oh my god! This is delicious. Tofu is amazing."
As he spoke, the waitress approached, carrying another plate. She appeared flustered. "I am so sorry. I gave you the bacon cheeseburger by mistake." She took the plate from Dean, who watched it go. She handed him the other one, then left.
Dean looked despairingly down at his food. He took a bite, then another, then put his food down, sighing. Alex took bite out of her food. She was almost half done, and with another glance at Dean, sighed, and put down her food. She pushed her plate over to Dean. "Thanks," he muttered, shooting her a thankful glance.
"Whatever," Alex smiled in amusement. She kept nibbling on her fries as Dean finished her food.
...
They quickly left the restaurant, and Dean started looking for a place to spend the night. He soon pulled into the Toreador Motel parking lot, and parked the car.
"You can't be serious," Sam scoffed. "This place charges by the hour."
"Yeah, well, the book says Lilith finds you at the Red Motel. Hence the, uh, hooker inn. It's opposite day, remember?"
He checked them in then went into their room. Alex looked around. 'Hooker inn' described it pretty well. Dean threw his bag on the nearest bed, digging through it. Alex watched him pull out several small bags which were then placed methodically around the room.
"What are you doing?" Sam asked.
"Couple of hex bags ought to Lilith-proof the room."
"So what, I'm just suppose to hole up in here all night?"
"That's exactly what you're going to do, okay? And no research. I don't care what you do - use the Magic Fingers or watch Casa Erotica on Pay-Per-View." By this time he was standing over by the door. He paused, and reached into Sam's bag, pulling out his laptop.
"Oh, dude, come on," Sam begged.
"Just call it a little insurance."
"What are you going to do?"
"Well, the pages say I spend the day riding around in the Impala. So I'm going to park her. Behave yourself, would you? No homework. Watch some porn." And with that, he left. Alex followed. When Dean noticed, he turned back to her. "You can't come with."
"Dude, you just told him to watch porn. I'm not staying." She got into the Impala, and Dean sighed. "There's a coffee shop down the street. Should we park her and head down there?"
"Fine," Dean sighed. He started the car. "No way we're keeping her here. Charge for parking my ass."
Alex smiled.
...
They drove around, finding a nearby parking lot. Dean put her in park, got out, and locked the car. Alex got out as well, following him. They crossed the street, and Dean started down the street. Suddenly he stopped, turning back towards the Impala. Alex looked, startled. Two teenagers were trying to break into the car. "Hey!" Dean yelled, starting towards them. He stepped into the road. "Hey!"
Out of nowhere, a van careened down the street. It collided with Dean, and he rolled up the hood. As it stopped, he fell onto the pavement. "Dean!" Alex yelled. The couple in the van got out, kneeling by him. Alex hurried over. He was unconscious. The sound of shattering glass made Alex look up. The teenagers had broken the rear window. "Hey!" Alex yelled, standing up. She checked the street before running over to them. "Get away from my car."
One of the boys turned to her. He looked her up and down. "Your car, eh?" He let out a laugh. "Get lost."
"Make me." Alex balled up her fists. The other teen was trying to get into the Impala through the broken window. "Get out of there." She stepped forward, grabbing ahold of his ankle, yanking him off.
The first teen spun her around, eyes glowering. Alex punched him in the jaw, and he fell to the ground. "I said, get out of here," she growled, fists balled.
The boy scrambled to his feet, eyes watering. Alex narrowed her eyes, and he ran. The second boy followed. Deeming the car safe, she hurried back to Dean. A young girl had gotten out of the van, and was now in the process of putting the last of her pink Band-Aids on Dean's face. Alex knelt down beside him.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the women pleaded. "I didn't see him, and he just stepped out-"
"It's okay, it's fine." Alex shook Dean. "Dean-o?"
Dean stirred, cracking open his eyes.
"Oh my god. Just take it easy, you're going to be okay," the woman promised.
"Stars?" he murmured. Confused, Alex followed his gaze. Oh. The woman's earrings were several stars hanging from wire.
"What was that?" she asked.
Dean blinked, struggling to raise his head to look around.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't see you. Are you okay?"
Dean sat up, and Alex helped him.
"And sorry about . . . you know." The woman glanced over at her young daughter. "M-My doctor's going through a doctor phase."
"What are you talking about?" Dean asked, running his hand through his hair.
"You're all better now," the young girl told him.
Dean narrowed his eyes in confusion. Alex reached out, pulling off one of the Band-Aids. Dean hissed in pain, turning to look at her. However, his gaze travelled past her and turned into one of horror. He stood up. "Oh no." He ran towards the Impala. Alex followed. "No no no." He stared at the broken rear window.
"Sorry." Alex apologized. "But I fought them off before they could take anything." She watched as Dean peeled off another Band-Aid, dropping it on the ground.
"Dammit," he cursed, then froze. "We need to find Chuck."
"Are you sure you're okay?" The woman approached. "What happened to your car?"
"Teenagers," Alex explained.
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
Alex glanced over at the Impala. "Do you by any chance have a tarp?"
...
Five minutes later, they were on the road, a clear plastic tarp flapping in the wind. Dean scowled, gripping the steering wheel tighter. Alex sighed, slumping down in the seat. "Are you sure you don't want me to drive?" she asked. "I mean, you did just get hit by a minivan."
"It's fine," Dean hissed. Alex shrugged, staring out the window.
...
It was almost seven o'clock when Chuck returned. Alex and Dean had helped themselves to the food in the fridge, and Alex had made sandwiches for dinner. Finally, she heard the door click open, and footsteps sounded in the hall. Chuck entered the living room. He was carrying a brown bag and a six pack. He glanced at them. "Alex. Dean," he acknowledged them with nod.
"I take it you knew we were going to be here."
"You look terrible."
"That's 'cause I just got hit by a minivan, Chuck," Dean snapped.
"Oh."
"That it? Every damn thing you write about me comes true and all you have to say is 'oh'?" Dean stood up, very much pissed.
"Please don't yell at me." Chuck shrunk away.
"Why do I get the feeling there's something you're not telling me?"
"What wouldn't I be telling you?"
"How do you know what you know, for starters?" Dean angrily stepped forward.
"I don't know how I know, I just do."
"That's not good enough." Dean shoved Chuck roughly against the wall.
"Dean! Stop!" Alex stood up.
"How the hell are you doing this?"
"Dean. Let him go!" Castiel's voice sounded behind them. Alex spun around, and Dean dropped Chuck. "This man is to be protected."
"Why?"
"He's a Prophet of the Lord."
Dean stared blankly, and Alex nodded. Right. She totally knew that.
"You - you're Castiel, aren't you?" Chuck nervously approached.
"It's an honor to meet you, Chuck. I . . . admire your work." Castiel glanced over at the shelf next to him, picking up one of the Supernatural books. He flipped through it.
"Whoa who. What? This guy, a prophet? Come on - he's . . . he's practically a Penthouse Forum writer!" Dean turned to Chuck. "You knew about this?"
Chuck didn't immediately answer, but walked over and sat down in his armchair. He poured himself a drink from the bottle in the bag. "I, uh, I might have dreamt about it."
"And you didn't tell us?" Dean's frustration returned.
"It was too preposterous. Not to mention arrogant. I mean, writing yourself into the story is one thing, but as a prophet? That's like M. Night-level douchiness." He took a long, desperate drink.
Alex let out a huff, and looked up at Cas. "Hey," she shot him a half-hearted smile.
"Hello," Castiel nodded, glancing over at her. He awkwardly turned back to Chuck, and Alex could swear he was nervous. She watched him carefully, confused.
"So this is the guy who decides our fate?" Dean asked the angel quietly.
"He isn't deciding anything," Castiel corrected. "He's a mouthpiece - a conduit for the inspired word."
"The word? Like the word of God? What, like the new new testament?"
"One day these books will be known as the Winchester gospel."
"You've got to be kidding me," Chuck and Dean said in unison. At that, Alex let out a chuckle. Dean glared at her.
"I am not . . . kidding you."
"I don't think he can 'kid'," Alex added.
"If you'd both please excuse me for a minute." Chuck stood up and hurried upstairs, whiskey bottle in hand. Alex watched him go.
"Him? Really?" Dean turned back to Castiel.
"You should have seen Luke."
Alex let out a small laugh.
"Why'd he get tapped?"
"I don't know how prophets are chosen. The orders come from high up on the celestial chain of command."
"How high?" Alex asked, curious.
"Very."
"Well, whatever." Dean interrupted them. "How do we get around this?"
"Around what?"
"The Sam-Lilith love connection. How do we stop it from happening?"
"What the prophet has written can't be unwritten. As he has seen it, so it shall come to pass."
Dean glanced at Alex desperately. She just rolled her eyes. "Don't worry. As long as Sam doesn't do anything stupid, we'll be fine. We can stop this," she promised.
"Sam." Dean stopped. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone. He dialed a number, and listened. Apparently he was calling Sam, and apparently he didn't answer, because Dean hung up. "We should go."
"Okay." Alex shrugged. "See you around, Cas."
He was already gone.
They went back out to the car and got in. "You knew, didn't you?"
Alex glanced at the hunter. "Sorry," she started to apologize.
"Whatever." Dean just shook his head. "Just promise me. You're not going to let this happen, okay?"
"I will do everything I possibly can," Alex promised solemnly.
...
They drove back to the Toreador Motel. The sun had set, and the roads were dark. Dean pulled into the parking lot, and Alex noticed that the red neon sign had changed. Several of the letters had gone out, and it now read the 'Re d Motel'. When they got out of the car, Alex nudged Dean, showing it to him. He shook his head despairingly and walked into their room. "Come on, we're getting out," he told Sam.
Sam looked over at him from the bed. "What? Where?" He stood up.
"Anywhere, okay? Out of this motel, out of this town. I don't care if we got to swim, we're getting out." He started packing Sam's bag. He walked over to the beds, then stopped. "Dude, where are all the hex bags?"
"I burned them."
"You what?" Dean turned to his brother.
"Look. If Lilith is coming, which is a big 'if'-"
"No no no no. It's more than an 'if.' Chuck isn't a physic. He's a prophet."
"What?" Sam froze.
"Like Daniel or Luke," Alex snapped. "An actual prophet."
"Cas showed up and apparently Chuck is writing the gospel of us," Dean added.
"Okay." Sam tried to wrap his head around it.
"Okay. Now let's get the hell out of here." Dean slung his bag around his shoulder and walked towards the door.
"No."
Dean stopped. "Lilith's going to slaughter you," he told him.
"Maybe she will, maybe she won't."
"So what? You think you can take her?"
"Only one way to find out, Dean, and I say bring her on." Sam shifted his weight, crossing his arms.
"Sam . . ."
"You think I'll do it, don't you? You think I'll go dark side."
Alex watched the two brothers interact. She still was really uncomfortable around them when they fought.
"Yes, okay? Yes! The way you've been acting lately, the things you've been doing?" When Sam looked up sharply, Dean continued. "Oh, I know. How you ripped Alastair apart like it was nothing, like you were swatting a fly. Cas told me, okay?"
"What else did he tell you?" Sam's voice was filled with fear and guarded curiosity.
"Nothing I don't already know. That you've been using your physic crap, and that you've been getting stronger. We just don't know why, or don't know how." Dean glanced at Alex, and she in turn looked over at Sam. His eyes were on fire. Alex looked away, knowing Dean wanted her to tell them what she knew, and Sam just wanted to kill her.
"It's not what you think," Sam snapped.
"Then what is it, Sam? 'Cause I'm at a total loss." Dean grabbed his bag and stomped towards the door. "Are you coming or not?"
"No."
Dean paused. Then he threw his bag down on the chair and left, slamming the door behind him.
Alex turned to Sam, whose eyes were still smoldering. Finding nothing to say, she hurried out the door after Dean.
She saw him walk down the motel porch and over to a vending machine. She slowly followed in the dark, not wanting to get to close. "Well, I feel stupid doing this," she heard him say. "But, I'm fresh out of options." He turned to look up at the sky. "So please. I need some help." His voice grew. "I'm praying, okay? So come on!"
"Prayer is a sign of faith." Castiel appeared to his right. "This is a good thing, Dean."
"So does this mean you'll help me?" Dean begged. Alex approached.
"I'm not sure what I can do."
"Drag Sam out of there now. Before Lilith shows up."
"It's a prophecy. I can't interfere."
"You have tested me and thrown me every which way. And I have never asked for anything. Not a damn thing. But now I'm asking. I need your help. Please." Dean sounded so desperate, so distraught, it wrenched Alex's heart.
"What you're asking . . . it's not within my power to do," Castiel said slowly.
"Why?" Dean snapped. "Because it's 'divine prophecy'?"
"Yes."
"So what? We're just suppose to sit around and wait for this to happen?"
"I'm sorry."
"Screw you. You and your mission. Your God. If you don't help me now, then when that time comes when you need me - don't bother knocking." He turned and started to walk away.
"Cas," Alex begged quietly. "There's got to be something you can do. Anything."
Castiel turned his blue eyes to her, emotions flickering through his eyes. "Dean. Dean."
The hunter turned back, pissed. "What?"
"You must understand why I can't help interfere. Prophets are very special. They are protected."
"I get that."
"If anything threatens a prophet - anything at all - an archangel will appear to destroy that threat. Archangels are fierce. They're absolute. They're Heaven's most terrifying weapon."
"And these archangels. They're tied to that prophet?" Dean was starting to catch on. Alex let out a barely contained smile as understood as well.
"Yes."
"So if a prophet were in the same room as a demon-"
"Then the most fearsome wrath of Heaven would rain down on the demon. Just so you understand . . . why I can't help." He met Dean's gaze, who nodded.
"Thanks Cas."
"Good luck."
Dean hurried to the Impala. Alex turned to Castiel. "Thank you."
"Anything for you." Castiel nodded, then disappeared before Alex could ask what he meant. She narrowed her eyes in confusion, but got into the Impala. She thought on Castiel's words as they drove down the street.
...
They pulled into Chuck's neighborhood a few minutes later. Dean sprung out of the car, and hurried up into the house. Alex followed. He flung open the door and stalked inside. Chuck was laying on the couch; he looked up, surprised. "What are you doing?" he asked. "I didn't write this."
Dean grabbed him, pulling him to his feet. "Come on. I need you to come with me."
Chuck glanced over at Alex, confusion in his eyes. "What? Where?"
"To the motel where Sam is." Dean led him over to the door.
Chuck struggled away. "That's where Lilith is!" he stammered.
"Yeah. Exactly. I need you to stop her."
"Are you insane? Lilith? Do you know what she's capable of? I wrote her."
"Alright, listen to me. You have an archangel tethered to you, okay? All you have to do is show up, and boom! Lilith gets smoked."
"B-But the story! I haven't written that yet-"
"Chuck, you're the only shot that I have left," Dean cut in.
"But, I'm just a writer . . ."
"This isn't a story anymore," Alex snapped. "This is real, and like it or not, you're in it."
"Now we need you to get off your ass and fight," Dean added. "Come on." He started toward the door.
"No friggin way," Chuck protested.
"Okay, well, how about this." Dean turned back to him, patience wearing thin. "I have a gun in my pocket, and if you don't come with me I'll blow your brains out."
"I thought you said I was protected by an archangel," Chuck said somewhat triumphantly.
"Well, interesting exercise. Let's see who the quicker draw is." Dean's hand moved towards the gun in his belt.
Chuck paused, then gave in. They walked out to the car, and hurriedly drove away. Chuck got shotgun, and Alex was once more in the back.
...
They pulled up to the motel, and Dean jumped out. Chuck followed, and Alex pushed him to go faster. Dean flung open the door, and they rushed in. Sam and Lilith were on the bed, struggling. Sam was holding the demon knife, trying to stab her. Alex slid to a stop.
"I am the prophet Chuck!" Chuck yelled without much conviction.
Lilith stood up. "You have got to be kidding me." She menacingly approached.
"Oh, this is no joke," Dean told her. Everything in the room suddenly began to shake. "You see, Chuck here's got an archangel on his shoulder." White light began to pour into the room, and the lamp fell over. Dean had to raise his voice to be heard. "You've got about ten seconds before this room is full of wrath and you're a piece of charcoal. You sure you want to tangle with that?"
Lilith took a step back, fear flashing through her eyes. She glanced back at Sam, then threw back her head, black smoke billowing out of her mouth. It fled through the window, and the woman collapsed. The light and shaking slowly faded until it was gone, leaving the four of them alone in the room.
Dean stared at Sam, who had sat up, breathing heavily, knife in hand. "Let's get out of here," was all Dean said. Sam just nodded. Chuck ran.
They gathered their bags and drove, leaving the woman on the floor, and Chuck wherever-he-had-ran-off-to. They just drove.
The ride was silent until Sam spoke. "Dean, it's not what you think."
"It's no, huh?" Dean snapped.
"Just hear me out. She offered me a deal. She'd call off the whole apocalypse in exchange for our lives."
Dean sat there silently for several seconds. "So a deal, huh?"
"That's what I said."
"To call the whole thing off - angels, seven seals, Lucifer rising, the whole nine?" Dean seemed to have trouble wrapping his head around it.
"That's the gist of it."
"Huh."
"What?" Sam glanced over at his brother.
"And you didn't think once about taking it?"
"Well, I thought about letting her have Alex," Sam half joked.
"Aw," Alex leaned forward over the seat. "Love you too, Sammy."
"I'm serious, Sam."
"Are you kidding?" Sam scoffed. "You spent the whole day trying to talk me off the Lilith track."
"I'm just saying-"
"She would have found someway to weasel out of it. And all if would have cost us is our lives."
Dean was silence for a moment. "Yeah, I guess you're right."
"Anyways, that's not the point."
"What's the point?" Dean looked over at Sam.
"Eyes on the road." Alex slapped him gently on the shoulder.
"The point is, she's scared. I could see it. Lilith is running."
"Running from what?" Dean shot Alex a glance. She shrugged.
"Don't know. But she was telling the truth about one thing."
"Hm?" Alex leaned towards him. "Pray tell."
"She's not going to survive the apocalypse. I'll make sure of that."
Images flashed through Alex's mind; Sam killing Lilith, breaking the final seal. She took in a breath, leaning back in her seat. She closed her eyes. She had to tell them. This was something they needed to know. So why couldn't she bring herself to do it? She let out that breath as the car fell into silence. She'd tell them when the time was right.