A few hours later, Bobby called them. Alex answered. "Hello?"
"Alex? Bobby."
"Oh, hey, Bobby." Alex looked over at Dean. "Uh, what's going on?"
"I've been trying to call you since yesterday."
"Oh, yeah, sorry," Alex apologized. "River Pass didn't have a signal, and I was too tired to answer last night. Sorry."
"So you guys are done in River Pass? How'd it go?"
"Uh, it went fine, I suppose. Uh, Rufus and Ellen and Jo are okay."
"Wait?" Ellen and Jo were there?"
"Uh, yeah."
"Speaker phone," Dean told her. Alex complied. "Hey, Bobby?"
"Dean?"
"Yeah."
"How'd you handle the demon thing?"
"Uh, turns out it wasn't actually demons. It was War."
"War?"
"Yeah. Four horsemen War," Alex explained. "He was making people hallucinate. Half the town thought the second half were demons, the second half thought the first half were demons."
The other end was silent for a few seconds. "So how are you guys doing?"
"Uh, fine, fine." Dean told him. "How about you?"
"As good as I can be without legs. Listen. The hospital says I can go. So, hurry up and get your asses over here and get me out."
Alex and Dean exchanged a glance. "Uh, yeah, okay, Bobby. We'll get you out tomorrow morning when we get back."
"How's Sam?" Bobby asked. "I haven't hear his voice yet."
"Uh, we're going to have to call you back," Dean said. He reached over and ended the call.
...
Baltimore, Maryland
They drove non-stop back to St. Martin's Hospital. They got there late that night, and crashed at the same motel they had stayed at several nights ago. Not much was said, apart from necessary words.
...
The next morning, they sat down for a quick breakfast before heading back over to the hospital. They went down to Bobby's room to find him still sitting in his wheelchair, and still wearing his dirty baseball cap. However, this time, he was fully dressed. He turned when the door was opened, watching Dean and Alex step in.
The first thing out of his mouth was, "Where's Sam?"
Dean and Alex exchanged a glance.
"Dean," Bobby looked at his brother. "Is Sam okay?"
"Yeah, Sam's fine," Dean answered slowly. "He, uh, decided he needed to take a break from hunting."
"Nothing happened I hope."
"No, nothing that big. He, uh, we just talked it over, and agreed it was for the best."
There was silence. Finally, Bobby spoke up. "Well, we going to leave or what?"
Dean silently nodded, and walked out the door, leaving Alex and Bobby alone.
"How you doing, girl?"
"Fine. Why wouldn't I be?"
"Fair enough." Bobby started wheeling himself towards the door. Alex held it open for him. She watched him go down the hall, following at a distance.
Dean checked Bobby out, then helped him into the front seat of the car. He folded the wheelchair, putting it in the trunk. Alex got into the backseat. They drove off, silent.
...
"So, War, huh?"
"Yup."
"How'd you figure that one out?"
"That was me," Alex admitted, slightly proud. "I remembered."
"Hm." Bobby just grunted, and Alex felt momentarily crushed. "Good for you, girl," he finally added. Alex smiled at the praise, leaning back in contentment.
...
Sioux Falls, South Dakota
They were back in Bobby's house within the next day. Dean helped him into his house. "You sure you're okay?" he asked as Bobby wheeled his way into the study.
"I'm fine," Bobby insisted. "Who are you, my mother?"
"Bobby, you're in a wheelchair," Alex said, exasperated. "Of course we're worried."
"I'll be fine. I'll sleep on the couch, and everything I need in on this floor."
Alex shook her head, knowing she couldn't win. "Fine. But you will let Craig check in on you whenever he can, okay? He's a nice man. And Rufus is just a few minutes away. You two are friends again, right? And Charlie and Duncan and Garth are around too."
"Stop talking," Bobby grumbled.
Alex ended with a huff.
"Listen, Bobby. We're just worried about you," Dean began. "We don't want you to get hurt or something."
"I said I'm fine."
Alex and Dean left it at that, knowing his pride was hurt more than anything else.
...
They stayed with him for a week or so, making sure he was getting on well. One day, while they were sitting in the kitchen, Bobby wheeled himself in. "Got you a case." He tossed a stack of papers onto the table. "Sounds like a ghost case."
Dean took it. "Down in Tennessee." He looked up. "So?"
"So you guys are gonna drive down and take care of it."
"What about you?"
"It ain't like you're gonna stay here forever. I'll be fine. I've got friends."
Alex sighed, glancing up at Dean. "He's got a point," she said quietly. "Craig can help him if he needs it."
Dean hesitated, then let out a long breath. "Fine. But we'll be checking in."
"Whatever." Bobby waved them off. "Now hurry up and get on with it."
...
They were in the car and on the road within the next five minutes. Alex got shotgun, something she still wasn't use to. "You know, I'm not sure if I like this," she finally admitted.
"Hunting?" Dean guessed. "Yeah. It's crappy."
"No."
"Oh. Then riding for hours on end?"
"No. I'm know I don't like riding in here for hours on end. Close though."
"Then what?" Dean turned his head to look at her.
"Riding shotgun." Alex rested her head against the window. "There's no real room to stretch out my legs. Usually I get the whole backseat to myself. Here it's crowded and confining."
Dean let out a snort of amusement before cranking up the music, signaling the end of their conversation. Alex pulled her legs up onto the seat, watching the scenery fly by.
...
December 4th, 2009
Dover, Tennessee
They arrived in Tennessee the next morning. Alex got out of the car, watching Dean. She had slept some in the car, but he had driven all night. He yawned, going to check them into a room. Alex got their bags out of the trunk and waited.
Once inside the motel room, Dean lay down on the nearest bed. Within a few minutes he was fast asleep. Alex's stomach growled, and the image of the IHOP down the road flashed through her mind. The car keys were in Dean's pocket, and she approached, gently rolling him over and reaching into his pocket to pull out the keys. Dean didn't wake. Alex grabbed some cash and hurried out the door.
When she got back, Dean was still asleep. She put the keys down on the table and sat down, opening up the take-out box full of pancakes. Not waiting for him to wake, she started eating.
It wasn't long before the smell woke Dean. "Wha . . ."
"Morning." Alex looked up. "Pancakes."
Dean rolled over, yawning. "What kind?"
"Chocolate chip and, uh, strawberry."
Dean walked over to her. "Where from?" He sat down in the other chair, yawning again.
"IHOP down the road."
"Hm." Dean helped himself. "Thanks."
Alex finished eating and pulled out his laptop. She typed in Dean's password, which was still Impala1979, and pulled up the newspaper article Bobby had given them. "Okie dokie. So. Murdered guy." She looked up at Dean.
"Yup."
"Close your mouth," Alex muttered.
Dean grinned, and finished chewing. "Yup," he repeated. "Guy stabbed and strangled."
"So this is a case why?" Alex leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. "Yuck. I'm so tired, Dean."
"You slept the entire car ride," Dean pointed out dryly.
Alex looked up the hunter. "That's not what I mean," she sighed, head in her hands. "Do you, uh, do you think Sam's okay?"
"Sam's fine." Dean's voice took on a note of sympathy. "He's a big boy, and he'll look after himself." He sighed. "Listen. If you want, we can take a few days off. Hit this case hard later."
Alex shook her head. "I don't think that's allowed."
"Allowed?" Dean snorted. "The only rule in hunting is don't die. Seriously. No one will blame you if you want to take a day or two off."
Alex looked up at Dean. "If I wanted a vacation, I would have gone with Sam."
Dean frowned. "I wouldn't have let you go with Sam."
Alex frowned as well. "Well, then if I wanted a vacation, I would have stayed with Bobby." She spun the laptop towards Dean. "Here. See anything of any importance?"
Dean took it, licking the syrup off of his fingers. "Well, I don't know." He scrolled through the page mindlessly. "Doesn't say much of any help." He stood up. "I'll go down to the police station and see what I can find."
"Alright, I'll just stay here."
"Yeah." Dean picked up his suit and walked towards the bathroom.
Alex took back the laptop and pulled back up the article.
A minute later Dean emerged, buttoning up his white shirt. "You should get some sleep," he told her, reaching for his tie. "You do look pretty worn."
Alex shook her head, rubbing her eyes. "Maybe later. Besides, I slept all last night while you drove."
"Yeah, well I've been running on three hours of sleep since before you were born." Dean slipped on his suit jacket then pulled out a pair of socks.
"Uh, no." Alex looked up, frowning. "Black socks, mister. No one's ever gonna believe you're FBI if you wear white socks."
Dean stuck his tongue, but tossed his white socks back towards his bag. Then he pulled out a pair of black socks and pulled them on. "Fine. You're worse than Sam."
It was Alex's turn to stick out her tongue. "Am not."
Dean grabbed his phone and pocketed it. Then he pulled on his black overcoat and slipped his FBI badge into the inside pocket. "If you find anything, call. But don't call if I'm busy." With that, he walked out the door.
"Busy?" Alex yelled after him. "How am I suppose to know if you're busy?!" With a sigh, she let it slide.
As the door closed, Alex opened a new tab. Bellwood Mansion. Enter. Several pages came up, and Alex lazily browsed through them.
...
Her phone rang half an hour later. Alex answered. "Hey."
"Find anything?"
"Uh, yeah." Alex turned her attention to the computer screen. "Bellwood Mansion. Built in 1876 by George Bellwood. He had a wife and a son. Son had some sort of, uh, a psychotic breakdown. Went totally insane, died two years later. He was eight years old." Dean grunted in acknowledgment, and Alex continued. "Mom was also driven mad by the death of her only child, and she died a few years later. And then George offed himself." Alex sighed, putting her elbow on the table. "Damn, sounds like a receipt for a haunting."
"Anything else? Where were they buried."
"Uh," Alex scrolled down. "St. Opius' Cemetery."
"Damn. Can't be them. Not if they're buried on holy ground." With that, Dean hung up.
Alex grumbled under her breath. She typed in St. Opius Cemetery, Dover TN into the search box. Enter. Alex opened the first page. "Damn."
...
They ate at a local diner. As they slid into the booth, Dean slid a folder over to her. "Autopsy photos and police reports," he explained.
"Ooh." Alex immediately pulled it close. "Anything interesting?"
"Well, whatever it was, it cut him up pretty good." Dean trailed off as the waitress approached.
"Hello!" the waitress smiled cheerfully. "Can I get you guys anything to drink?"
"Beer, please."
"Mountain Dew." Alex closed her menu.
"And," Dean added, "I think we're ready to order. I'll have the bacon cheeseburger."
"Ditto."
"Ah. Okay then. Your food will be right out!" The waitress flounced away.
"I don't like her," Alex muttered. "She's too happy."
"She's hot," Dean added. Seeing Alex roll her eyes, he smirked. "Jealous?"
Alex looked up at him. "Jealous? Of her. No thank you."
"You're denial speaks a thousand words."
Alex counted out on her fingers. "Nope. It only speaks six." She turned back to the police reports. "So. You didn't find anything weird?"
Dean shrugged. "The crime scene was spotless. Not a trace of anything."
"Could be a ninja," Alex suggested mindlessly.
Dean looked thoughtful. "Could be a ninja," he agreed.
"I looked up the cemetery they were buried in." Alex leaned back slightly as the waitress put their drinks on the table. "Turns out St. Opius was torn down years ago. All the graves were moved to a local public cemetery. That's not holy ground anymore. They could be back."
Dean nodded. "Yeah. Good work."
...
Their food was brought out, and Alex quickly closed the folder. Dean thanked the waitress. "That was fast."
"Yes it was! Anything else I can get you?"
"No thank you."
Dean watched the waitress walk away, and Alex kicked him in the shins."Case first." She took a huge bite of her food, reopening the folder. She flipped through the autopsy photos. "Nasty."
"How can you even look through that while eating?" Dean took a long swig of his beer.
"It's easier when you can't smell the formaldehyde." Alex took another bite, looking through the bloodied pictures. She had to admit it made her a bit nauseous, but there was no way in hell she would let Dean win this one.
"Whatever." Dean picked up his food. "Just, if you find anything, tell me after I've finished eating."
Alex laughed. "Aye aye, captian." She swirled a fry around in her ketchup, studying the papers. "So. Are we checking out the house tonight?"
"If you want, sure. I can do it by myself, though."
Alex frowned. "Why would you say that?"
Dean shrugged. "You said you were tired. I just figured you'd want the day off."
"Dean, Sam isn't here. There are two of us. I'm gonna pull my own weight, even if I don't want to."
"It won't hurt to take a night off." Dean reached across and grabbed the police report. "Seriously. Just relax for a while."
"We'll see." Alex hurriedly closed the folder as the waitress walked by. "So. Yes or no. She hot?"
Dean cocked an eyebrow. "What?"
"I mean, by girl standards, she'd be pretty hot." Alex watched as the waitress swayed her hips before returning her gaze to the man across from her. "But what do you think?"
She swore Dean blushed. "What? You trying to hook me up?"
"Huh? No. No! Don't be stupid. You don't need any help. You're already hot enough." Alex blushed slightly, but she ignored it.
"Uh, thanks." Dean took a large bite, finishing off his hamburger. "You think I'm hot, huh?"
Alex shrugged. "Well, I'd have to be blind not to."
"Or gay."
"No. I'm pretty sure you turn gay chicks straight." Alex pulled a thoughtful face. "You could probably turn straight guys gay." That made Dean blush. So Alex continued. "You ever had a guy hit on you?"
"I think we're done here." Dean pulled out cash from his pocket, throwing it down on the table. He stood up.
Alex gathered up the papers. "So that's a yes? Damn, boy. Did he buy you a drink? Maybe you guys went-"
"Shut up." Dean stalked out of the restaurant and to the car.
Alex scampered after him. "Was he cute?" She held back a snigger. "Top or bottom?"
Suddenly Alex was spun around and pinned against the Impala. "I have never fucked a guy, alright?"
Alex blinked. Dean looked pissed. "Alright, alright. Sorry. Geez."
Dean let her go and stalked around to the other side of the car. He got in, and the engine purred to life. Alex slid into the front seat. "By the way," Dean added, his attitude brought back to simple and breezy, "I'd totally be top."
Alex grinned. "But-"
"No. Nope. I am one hundred percent straight. You get it? Straight as an arrow."
Alex huffed. "Yeah. A wobbly one."
Dean shot her a glance. "Fine," he relented. "That was pretty good." Before Alex could respond, he turned up the volume, and ACDC blasted from the speakers. They drove away.
...
It was one in the morning, and Alex was being shaken awake. "What?"
Dean threw back the covers. "I'm leaving for the mansion. You still want to come?"
"Yeah." Alex struggled to get out of bed. "I'm good." She quickly threw on some clothes, grabbed a bottle of root beer out of the fridge, and stumbled after Dean into the car.
...
Ten minutes later, Dean pulled the car up to an empty street. "Come on." He got out and circled around to thee trunk. Alex tossed her empty bottle into the backseat and followed.
Dean handed her her sawed off, and Alex quickly made sure it was loaded before shoving a few extra rounds into her pockets. "Now where?" She accepted a flashlight from the older hunter.
"There it is." Dean motioned off down the street to a large pale house. "Six foot iron fences, padlocks on all the doors."
"Oh. Okay."
Dean grunted in agreement. "Property's privately owned, but no one lives there. It should be completely empty." With that, he led the way down the street.
They stopped at the large cast iron gate. "There might be another way in through the back," Dean suggested.
"Or . . ." Alex pushed on the gate. It opened with a slow creak. "Wasn't locked."
"It should be." Dean's confusion was clear even in the faint moonlight. "Hell, it's always locked. There was a murder here two days ago!"
"Well, it's open now." Alex stepped onto the overgrown lawn.
Dean followed, eyes flickering around. But all he said was, "Alright."
They circled around to the back of the house. The cellar door was locked. Dean dropped his duffle bag and knelt down, pulling out his lock-picking kit. "You sure you want to go in through the cellar?" Alex whispered, flashlight bobbing across the grass.
"We'll start at the bottom, work our way up."
"You know, the last time I was in a haunted house, I killed a little girl." Alex sat down beside Dean as he let out a small curse, trying the lock again.
"You did the right thing."
Alex leaned her back against the wall. "Three years ago, I never would have imagined that I would have killed two human beings by now."
"They were monsters." Dean didn't even look up. The words sounded rehearsed, and Alex suspected he had had this conversation with himself many times. "They got what they deserved." The lock clicked open, and Dean looked up. His eyes flashed in the moonlight. "We did what we had to do." Without waiting for an answer, he opened the cellar door and disappeared inside.
Alex followed.
The darkness inside was only broken by the dim light of their flashlights. Dean took the lead, turning down a concrete hall. He paused, then sneezed. "Dammit," he growled.
Alex grinned. "Bless you." She looked around. "It looks like no one's been down here in years."
"They probably haven't." Dean's flashlight darted across one of the walls. "Who's suppose to be haunting this?"
Alex shrugged. "Legends don't really say. There's just suppose to be a lot of paranormal and satanic activity."
"Great. Demons and ghosts." Before Alex could respond, he added, "I know what you're going to say, and don't. I know the difference between demonic and 'satanic' activity."
Alex smirked, but that faded as she continued down the hall. She stopped in front of one of the open doors. "Holy hell."
"What?" Dean joined her, peering inside the room. A iron bed frame sat against the far corner, a ragged and brutally torn mattress on top. There was little else; a feeble nightstand, and a broken rocking chair. There were nonsensical drawings on the walls.
Alex reluctantly stepped inside. "You think this was the kid's room?"
"I don't know what this is." Dean followed her in, closing the door slightly behind them to look behind it. He turned back to the rest of the room. "Seems a little brutal, you know? Keeping him down here?" He looked up towards the ceiling, where a single bulb hung from a socket. "There's plenty of room upstairs."
"Hello?"
Both Dean and Alex froze. With a single glance, both killed their flashlights. Alex shifted closer to Dean as the darkness pressed down on them.
There were low murmured voices. "Are you Jonny Bellwood?" a man called. A faint light appeared from the hallway; it grew stronger as the voices approached. Then they stopped, whispering once again. Then, "Can you knock for us?"
Alex looked up at Dean. She leaned up. "They're fucking ghost hunters," she murmured. "I got this." Before Dean could respond — or remind her to watch her language for that matter — Alex stepped forward and pounded once on the wall.
"Shit!" Alex barely held back a laugh as she heard the ghost hunters' fright. She stepped back to Dean, who, in the dim light, managed to look disapproving. She shrugged.
The ghost hunter's shaky voice was heard once again. "C-Can you do that again?"
In response, Alex opened her mouth and screamed. She heard similar screams in the other room. She cut off when Dean whacked in her the ribs with the barrel of his gun, and she ended with a grunt of pain. "Shut up," Dean snapped. He stalked out of the room, leaving Alex gripping her side.
"W-Who are you?"
"What the hell are you doing here?" Alex joined Dean out in the hall to see the hunter standing there, arms crossed.
"What the hell are you doing here?" The man countered. Alex studied him briefly. Thick black hair, wide blue eyes, paler than, well, paler than a ghost. But definitely attractive.
"Listen. This isn't some joke, you understand?" Dean stepped forward menacingly. "So get out!"
"W-We have permission to be here," the young woman said timidly. She looked over at the man, shifting her hold on the camera. "Mrs. Baumann said we would be the only ones here."
"Well, I say you should leave."
A low static filled the air. The man pulled his walkie-talkie off of his belt. "What do you want, Jordan?"
"N-Nathan, the-there's something w-weird g-going on." Alex strained to hear the words, garbled by the frequency. "C-Can you come up-upstairs?"
"On my way." Nathan pointed at Dean and Alex. "You two, out. Or else I'm calling the cops." He and the woman walked back upstairs.
Dean looked down at Alex, shrugged, and followed them. Alex took off after Dean. "Come on," she whispered. "It was a little bit funny."
"It was immature."
"And funny."
Dean didn't respond, and Alex dropped her gaze to the ground. "I've always wanted to do that," she muttered sullenly.
...
They found themselves standing in the kitchen. Monitors were set up on the old oak table, and a man sat behind them. Upon seeing Dean and Alex, he jumped up. "Who are they?"
"We found them in the basement." Nathan glared at Dean before picking up a phone off of the table. He dialed a number, waiting. "Uh, yes. Can we have a cop car down on—"
Dean stepped forward, taking the phone out of the shorter man's hands before ending the call. "You don't want to do that," he warned.
"Dean." Alex tugged at the hunter's sleeve. "We don't even know if this is a real case." Dean ignored her, and Alex turned away, feeling slightly left out.
"Who are you?"
Alex wandered over to the table. "Gaf?"
"No, it's G.A.P.H. Ghost and Paranormal Hunters."
"So it's pronounced gaf."
Dean frowned. "This isn't like a Ghostfacers thing, is it?"
"The Ghostfacers?" The man looked over at Dean. "You've heard of them?"
"Allan—"
"Yeah. Unfortunately, I've met them."
"They're only like, our idols!" Allan hurried to stand in front of Dean. Probably only 5'9, barely twenty years old, slightly pudgy. His brown eyes were lit up with excitement. "They're the reason we started our own ghost hunting blog!"
Dean took a step away from the enthusiasm. "Great. That's real great." He looked around. "But you need to get out of here."
"Dude." Alex grinned. "This is like Ghostfacers all over again. That was a sweet episode."
"It's going to be nothing like that, because they're leaving." Dean circled over to the table and closed the laptop. The monitors immediately died.
"Hey hey hey!" Nathan hurried after him, opening the laptop back up, and the monitors flickered back to their color. "Watch it!"
Dean's attention was focused on the monitor. "How many of you are there?"
"Five, why?"
"That one of yours?"
Alex followed Dean's finger towards the screen. Everything was tinted green from the night setting on the camera, but it was obvious what they were looking at. "Oh my God." Nathan clutched the edge of the table. "Oh my God. Jordan."
Dean looked over at Alex. "Yeah, I think this is a case." He turned back to Nathan. "Where is he."
"Uh, uh, third floor. T-The kid's first room."
Dean stalked out of the kitchen. Alex hurried after him. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came to mind. She fell back into silence.
...
They reached the third floor. "This way." Nathan pushed his way past Alex, but Dean stopped him with an arm. "What?"
"You're going to go back downstairs, and you're going to leave. Don't look back."
"I'm not leaving with Jordan."
"Whoa." Alex took a small camera out of Nathan's hands. "This is infrared? Awesome!" She pointed it at Dean, studying the screen. He appeared in vibrant colors against the blue and purple walls. "Dude, you're gay colored. I think it might be destiny, you know—"
Dean snatched the camera out of her hands. "Stop it." In his moment of distraction, Nathan shoved Dean out of the way.
Dean let out a harsh breath through his nose, but followed Nathan. "This is stupid," he growled. "Why doesn't anyone listen to me?"
"I listen to you," Alex pointed out.
Dean paused, looking down at her. "No you don't," he finally said.
Alex smiled. "No, I don't."
Dean let out a small smile, but it was quickly gone. He hurried back down the hall. Alex followed.
They stopped inside a large room. Nathan flipped on the lights, and he took a step back. Alex grimaced. A man lay in the center of the room, just like they had seen on the monitor. But what they hadn't seen was the large pool of blood beneath him, or the multiple slash marks on his body, or the marks around his neck.
"Great," Alex grunted. "That must have hurt."
"Y-You're not even s-scared?" Nathan gaped at Alex.
"This isn't my first rodeo." Alex winked at him before turning back to Dean. "Now what? You think it'll let us leave?"
"Let us leave?" Nathan repeated. I—"
"Can you go downstairs?" Dean turned on him. "Just, give us a minute, okay?"
Nathan nodded and scurried away. Dean let out a breath and lowered his head.
"We should try get them out," Alex said quietly.
"Yeah. Of course." Dean nodded. He shook his head to clear it. "Okay. Who would this be?"
"Could be John. Jonny," Alex added when Dean looked confused. "He's mentally unstable."
"He's also an eight year old boy."
"Okay. The mom went mad with grief—"
"You know, time also drives a ghost mad." Dean looked around. "Just give 'em a little bit of time to cook, and they'll get vengeful soon enough."
"Okay, fine. Except they were only moved to that atheistic cemetery like, three decades ago."
"Atheistic cemetery," Dean repeated, then nodded. "Okay. Well, how'd the dad die?"
"Suicide. After his son and wife passed."
There was a cry from downstairs, cutting them off.
Dean took off past her, leaving her standing alone in the room with a dead body. With a sigh, Alex followed.
She started slowly down the stairs, mind wandering. "Stupid," she muttered to herself.
"Hello?"
Alex turned. "Uh, can I help you?"
A pale little boy stood at the top of the staircase. Blood trickled down his forehead, and his clothes were stained red. "Did you kill my mommy?"
"Kill her?" Alex frowned. "No. Of course not."
"My mommy's dead." The boy flickered, and then he was standing three steps above her. "Did you kill her?"
"Did you kill that man?"
The boy looked up, and then he disappeared.
Alex turned and ran down the stairs. "Dean! Dean!"
"What?" Dean came running out. He slid to a stop, and his worried gaze faded. "What?" he repeated. "You sounded like a ghost had gotten you."
"The boy's haunting the place," Alex explained breathlessly. "I, I saw him on the steps. He asked me if, if I killed his mom."
"And . . ?"
"Then he disappeared when I asked him if I killed that guy."
Dean frowned. "Did he seem okay? Not mad?"
"He . . . He was covered in cuts. I mean, his clothes were pretty much red with blood. Like, I don't know how that kind of trauma didn't kill him."
"Okay." Dean frowned. "So. Someone killed the kid, the kid says that someone killed his mom." Dean motioned her after him. "Come onNathan found something. Stay close."
Alex nodded, frowning at his odd request. But she did as he asked. "What did you find?"
"We checked the video." Dean pointed to a monitor. It was frozen on a single frame. A man stood there, beside Jordan.
Alex leaned close. "Well, that's not the kid or the mom."
"That's George," Nathan confirmed shakily. "T-The —"
"—original owner," Alex finished. "Yeah, I know. I did my research." She grinned up at Nathan, shrugging.
Dean nudged her. "Stop flirting."
"Well, maybe you should pay me more attention," Alex retorted half-heartedly. She ran a hand through her hair. "So, now what? Now we can leave? We'll have to dig him up . . . Dean, the ground's probably close to frozen!"
Dean opened his mouth to snap, but then he closed it again. "Let's get everyone out," he finally said. "We'll take care of this tomorrow."
Alex looked around. "There's no one here."
"Yeah, cause everyone but this one's already outside." Dean jerked a thumb towards Nathan.
"We can't leave without our equipment!"
"I told you! If you stay, you die." Dean's eyes flashed. "You can get your crap in the morning." Nathan opened his mouth to protest, but Dean cut him off. "What's more important? Your stupid blog, or your life?"
That seemed to convince the man. He nodded meekly, and hurried out of the room. Dean sighed and picked up his duffle bag. "Screw this," Alex heard him mutter.
There was a loud cry, and Dean and Alex rushed out of the kitchen and into the living room. Nathan was laying on the other side, slumped against the wall. A man stood over him, a large butcher's knife in one hand.
"Hey!" Dean yelled, getting the ghost's attention.
Alex raised her shotgun and pulled the trigger. The man disappeared. "Let's get him out of here."
Dean agreed, dropping his duffle bag. Alex picked it up as the older hunter helped Nathan to his feet and half carried him out the door.
Three people stood on the front lawn; Alex recognized all but one. The woman hurried over to Nathan, taking him from Dean. "Nathan?" she cupped his face, eyes desperately searching his. "Nathan? Can you hear me?"
"He's probably got a concussion. Take him to the hospital." Dean pointed towards the gate.
The people nodded and hurried off, leaving Dean and Alex standing alone.
"Dean?"
Dean shook his head. He exited the yard and crossed the street.
Alex joined him by the Impala, frowning. "Dean? Are you okay, man?"
Dean unlocked the trunk, and they threw their things inside. Then he got into the front seat. "I don't know." The Winchester rubbed his head tiredly. "I, I think I just might need some sleep, okay?"
Alex nodded, watching her friend worriedly. "Yeah. Sure. Whatever you need, Dean. Do . . . do you want me to drive?"
"I'm fine."
They fell silent.
...
They didn't speak until they were back at the motel. Dean was sitting at the table, one hand holding his beer, the other on his laptop's keyboard. Finally he sighed. "Hey. I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" Alex looked up. "About what?"
"You know about that. I was acting like a dick. I, it's just been weird, okay? Being without Sam."
Alex sat up, holding her pillow against her chest. She rested her chin on it. "Sorry I called you gay," she mumbled.
Dean snorted. "Which time?"
"Just the second time. I stand by the first time." Alex sighed. "It's fine. You've got a lot to worry about. Sam's gone, Bobby's paralyzed, I get how hard this is."
Dean just shook his head. "You know what? It's 3:30. We need some sleep." He stood up, looking around. "I guess we both get out own beds."
Alex shook her head. "I don't like being alone," she admitted.
Dean grunted. He turned off the lights, and after a few seconds, Alex felt the bed dip next to her. She shifted backwards until she felt Dean's shoulder resting comfortingly against her back. "Goodnight, Dean," she murmured, eyes drifting close.
"Night, Pip."