Alex leaned her head against the cool window pane. He stomach churned uneasily, and she closed her eyes.
"You okay back there?"
Alex felt Dean's eyes on her, and she tried to look fine. "I'll be fine," she told him, forcing herself to make eye contact.
"You don't look so hot." Dean glanced at his brother, and Sam finally turned to look at Alex.
He reached back, placing a large palm over her forehead. "Feels hot enough to me," he joked dryly.
"Well, no puking in the car." Dean turned his eyes back to the road.
"Thanks for your concern," Alex groaned, returning her forehead to the glass.
...
She managed not to throw up in the car ride, even though it seemed like Dean intentionally hit every bump. She stumbled into the motel bathroom, bile rising in her throat. She barely got the door closed before she was bent over the toilet, vomiting.
She was pretty sure she puked up everything in her stomach, and then some. There was a hesitant knock on the door. "Alex? You okay in there?"
Alex spit once more into the toilet before flushing it. Then she leaned against the wall. "I'm, I'm okay," she called back weakly.
The door opened, and Dean stepped in. He handed her bottled water. "Here."
"Thanks." Alex closed her eyes, her body aching from the physical exertion she had just been through. She heard Dean leave as another wave of nausea swept through her.
...
When she had finally stopped vomiting, she leaned back against the wall, regaining her strength. There she waited. Her stomach felt better, and she was confident she could make it to the bed. She shakily pulled herself to her feet and stumbled out into the room. Dean was sitting at the table, and looked up when Alex appeared. His face immediately twisted into one of concern. "Are you okay?"
"No." Alex collapsed on the nearest bed, pulling her legs in close. "I feel like hell."
Dean frowned and murmured sympathetically.
"Where's Sam?" Alex asked, even though she couldn't care less.
"Went out. Dinner, I think." Dean smirked. "I hope he's bringing back something greasy. Maybe pulled pork, or hamburgers -"
"Damn you, Dean," Alex groaned, falling back on the bed. "Damn you back to hell."
Dean just laughed.
...
Sam came back less than an hour later. "How's Pip feeling?" he asked his brother.
"Not good." Alex heard Dean close his laptop. "She's pretty sick."
The bed dip, and a hand rested on Alex's forehead. Alex leaned into his cool touch, and Sam sighed. "Great."
Alex buried herself back into the bed, wiggling under the covers.
...
It was the next day that Sam got sick. Alex heard him retching in the bathroom. Dean was grumbling something about this being Alex's fault before he yelled something to them and stalked out.
Sam collapsed on the bed next to her, completely spent. Alex, feeling only slightly better, sat up, looking down at the hunter. His hair was damp and sticking to his sweaty face. Alex gently brushed the hair out of his face. "You too?"
"Don't talk to me." Sam rolled away from her.
Exhaustion pulled at Alex's limbs, and she lay back down, pressing her back into Sam's. She slowed her breathing to match his, falling into an uneasy sleep.
...
Four days later, Alex was back on her feet. Unfortunately, Sam was still sick, and Dean had fallen ill late last night. Alex saw Dean dart into the bathroom, and soon followed the sound of retching.
Sam started to gag, and Alex stood up, hurrying over to him. She picked up the trash can, sitting beside Sam as he sat up, reaching for it. He started vomiting, and Alex pulled back his hair, rubbing his back comfortingly. When he had finished, Alex knocked on the bathroom door, stepping in past Dean to empty and clean the can.
She helped Dean back into the bed next to Sam before grabbing the car keys. "This is some nasty stomach bug." Alex grabbed Dean's wallet off of the counter. "I'm going to go get some lunch for you. Don't die."
Both of the Winchesters grunted in response, and Alex took it as the go ahead.
...
When she got back, she began cooking up the soup she had gotten. "I splurged," she joked to the hunters on the bed. "I got the fun soup. Scooby-Doo. Mystery hunter soup for mystery hunters like you."
Dean groaned. "I'm not five," he grumbled.
Alex chuckled and looked at the other can. "I also got Phineas and Ferb soup. Which would you like?"
"Scooby-Doo."
"Phineas and Ferb."
The brothers glared at each other, engaging in a small wrestling match between them. However, it was fairly weak, and they quickly broke apart.
"Settle down," Alex chastised. "You're still sick. Scooby it is. Tomorrow we'll have the other can."
Dean mumbled his protest, and Sam managed a grin.
...
After she had cooked up lunch - and gotten bowls and spoons out of the trunk - she brought two bowls over to the Winchesters.
"Is this all?" Dean grumbled, looking down at the meager portions.
"When you eat all this, you can have more. I want to make sure you can keep it down first." Alex returned to the stove.
Dean began eating, but Sam only took two bites before putting his on the nightstand.
Alex frowned, walking over to sit next to Sam. "Eat more," she persisted. When Sam shook his head, Alex placed her hand on her forehead. He was burning. "Sam, you need to eat. You'll feel better, I promise."
"I can't." Sam rolled away from her.
Alex looked at Dean worriedly. "I'll take more," he offered.
Alex took his bowl and gave him the rest of the soup. When he looked down at it, he asked, "Aren't you going to eat something?"
Alex shook her head. "You guys need it more. I'm not hungry."
Dean frowned. "You need to eat, Pip."
Alex placed a hand on his forehead. He was still very warm. "I'll eat later. Dean. Eat the soup. Your body's fighting hard. Trust me. It'll appreciate the support."
Dean grumbled something that sounded like 'bossy' and 'jerk,' but did as he was asked.
"Good boy," Alex joked, rubbing his hair messily.
Dean moved his head away sullenly. Alex's stomach growled, and Dean stopped eating. "That's it. Eat." He shoved his bowl into her hands. "I'm done."
"Dean -"
"Eat it. You're hungry."
"I've been hungry before."
"So have I."
"Dean. Eat the damn soup-"
"No, you eat the damn soup. I've already had a bowl. I won't eat it, so you may as well."
Alex glared at the hunter, but gratefully acquiesced. She wolfed down the soup before turning back to Sam. His eyes were closed, and breathing shallow. Suddenly he twitched, eyes fluttering open. "The fuck?" he muttered, then gagged.
He stumbled to his feet, and Alex guided him to the bathroom. Then she returned to Dean, yawning. She looked back towards the bathroom. "I've never seen him that bad," she admitted quietly. "He's really sick."
"Get some sleep," Dean mumbled. "We'll be okay for a while."
Alex didn't protest. She had been kept up all night, and sleep sounded good. She quickly got two glasses of water and put them on the nightstand. "Drink," she commanded, then collapsed in the other bed.
...
December 23rd, 2009
Dean recovered within three days. Sam had been hit the hardest, making a slow recovery. Finally, after six days of being sick, the fever broke, and he was well enough to eat fully by the next evening.
One night, Dean came back to the motel room carrying several plastic bags. "What's that?" Alex asked.
"Food. And Christmas presents. It's Christmas Eve."
Alex narrowed her eyes. "Today? Fuck."
"Swearing."
"Sorry." Alex got up, shocked. "Christmas. How in the fricken world did I forget?"
Dean smirked. "You need to borrow the car?"
"Can I?"
In response, Dean tossed her the keys. "While you're at it, pick up Sammy. He's at the bar down the street."
Alex huffed. "No problem."
"And be careful!"
...
The bar was the first place she went. She parked the Impala, locked it, then stepped inside. She wandered around, looking for the ever familiar form of Sam Winchester. Not seeing him, she sat down at the bar, pulling out her phone. She pulled up her text-chat with Sam. Where are you?
"Hey, sweetheart." A man sat down next to her.
Alex glanced over at him. "Hey."
"How's it going?"
Alex smirked at the cocky nonchalantness on his face. "Good," she replied innocently. Her phone buzzed. Where are you? read the reply. She frowned, sliding out the keyboard. At the bar. Gotta pick u up.
"Who you texting? Boyfriend?"
Alex looked up at him, a smile playing on her lips.
The man slid two one hundred bills over to her. Alex watched out of the corner of her eyes. Wedding band on his left hand. This guy was a douche and a cheater. "How much can I get for this?"
Alex grinned, taking the bills. Then she leaned close, beckoning him to do the same. The man tipped his head closer, eyes traveling down her body. Alex kissed him on the cheek. Then she jumped off of the bar stool and hurried away, leaving the man, dumbfounded. She quickly found Sam. "There you are."
"So you're here to pick me up?"
"Dean's orders." Alex pulled the keys out of her pocket. "You done here?" She turned to see the man looking for her. When he spotted her, he stopped, also seeing the moose of a man next to her. Alex took Sam's hand, tugging him towards the door. "Come on," she whined.
"What?" Sam looked down at their hands.
Alex turned to look at him, taking a step closer so she was almost pressed against his chest. Sam blushed almost immediately. "Some guy wanted sex and gave me two hundred dollars," she explained quietly, so quietly that Sam had to dip his head to hear. "I took the money, kissed him on the cheek, and walked away. Now he's looking at us, but doesn't want to confront you. Can we go now?"
Sam grinned. "You're an outright thief. At least I hustle pool."
Alex shook her head. "He gave me the money. And I kissed him on the cheek. All was fair. Call it . . . an investment that didn't pan out. Plus he was married. Dude got what he deserved." She led Sam away.
...
After dropping Sam off, Alex hurried over to the nearby Target. She closed her eyes as she stepped through the doors and was blasted with warm air. She hurried into the store, knowing it closed in half an hour. "What to get, what to get," she mumbled. "Can't get alcohol. That's all they fucking like."
She turned into the clothing isle, pausing. There was a black Metallica t-shirt on one of the racks. She twisted her head, seeing what size shirt she was currently wearing - it was Dean's, after all. Medium. She flipped through the folded shirts, pulling out a medium. She nodded approvingly. Dean didn't have one of these. And he sure did love his Metallica tape. "Now for Sammy," she grumbled.
She hurried to the other side of the store, utterly confused as to what to get the other hunter. She quickly found herself in the book section. She spotted a book, and a smile grew across her face. The Egyptian Book of the Dead. She picked it up, flipping through it. It had old Egyptian spells, hymns, and symbols. Bingo.
...
After checking out, Alex hurriedly drove back to the motel. Sam and Dean were there, deep in conversation. Alex grunted a 'hi' to them, then sat down on the bed. "You got Christmas gifts?" Dean joked.
Sam frowned. "You seriously didn't need to get us anything."
Alex shrugged. "The least I could do."
"She got two hundred bucks, Sammy," Dean joked.
"Oh yeah." Alex got up, walking over to them. She pulled out the leftover change, handing it to Dean. "Here."
Dean took it. "What's it for?" He counted the money. One hundred and fifty-seven dollars.
Alex shrugged again. "I owe you. You guys pay for all my meals."
She returned to her place on the bed. Sam went into the bathroom. Then Dean spoke again. "You don't need to pay me back, Pip."
"No, I kind of do."
Dean just shook his head. "Pip, I'm not stupid. You always get the cheapest stuff on the menus, I don't remember the last time you've ever just gone out and bought something -"
"I don't need anything," Alex grumbled.
Dean ignored her. "Does this have anything to do with last January? Your birthday?"
Alex visibly winced. "So?"
Dean sighed, and Sam came back into the room. The conversation died.
...
Alex awoke that night with nightmares. She sat up, breathing heavily.
"Bad dream?" Dean was sitting at the table on his laptop.
Alex nodded. "You still up?" she asked, trying to change the conversation.
"Was just about to go to bed." Dean closed his laptop. "I guess now is as good a time as any." He walked over to the bed. Sam shifted in his sleep, spreading his long legs across the bed, taking up much of the room.
Dean lay down next to Alex, and she let out a happy noise at the back of her throat. As Dean got settled on his back, she curled up on his chest, his presence comforting her immensely. Dean let her.
...
When she awoke, Dean was still there, their limbs entangled. Alex didn't move, too comfortable cuddling with Dean to want to get up. She shifted gently into a more comfortable position, and Dean stirred. He tiredly rolled onto his stomach, and Alex reluctantly sat up. Sam was near the kitchenette, and Alex smelled that he was making them a breakfast. "Morning, Moose." She got up.
"Morning, Pip."
Alex tiredly rubbed her eyes, yawning deeply. "What's for breakfast?"
"Did I hear breakfast?"
Alex turned to look at Dean. She sat back down on the bed, smacking Dean gently on foot. "Oh, now you wake up."
Dean grinned, getting up. He pushed Alex on the shoulder, sending her flat on her back. She groaned dramatically, sitting back up.
"Merry Christmas." Dean walked over to the kitchenette, pulling out a beer.
...
They had a quick breakfast. Dean disappeared into the bathroom to change. Then Alex walked over to her bag. "Putting on a shirt," she half-called, pulling off Dean's t-shirt she was wearing. Then she reached for another, cleaner one.
Sam tipped his head. "Hang on." He stood up, walking over to Alex.
She paused, shirt in hand. "What's up?"
Sam poked her in her left side. "What happened?"
Alex looked down at the pale skin. "What are you talking about?" There was nothing wrong.
Sam looked into her face. "Last summer you got mauled by a werewolf. I had to stitch you up!" His gaze returned to her side.
"Oh." Alex blushed slightly. Her fingers traced the skin from her ribs and down to her hips. "Cas . . . He visited me while I was at Bobby's. He wanted to know where you guys were. He - I told him not to do it." Her hand dropped to her thigh. "I still have the scar there, but it's pretty faint."
Dean stepped out of the bathroom. He barely cast a glance at Alex, who was still only in sweatpants and a bra. He himself was only wearing a pair of boxers. Alex let out an amused breath, pulling on her shirt. They weren't really big on modesty anymore.
Dean grabbed two plastic bags, handing them out. "Merry Christmas, bitches."
He tossed a bag at Alex, then handed the other to Sam. Sam opened his first. "Hey," he smiled. "More porn." He tossed a magazine on the table, grinning. Then he glanced at Alex. "Hands off."
Alex huffed. "Don't want it." She began to wonder what Dean had gotten from her. Porn as well? She blushed. No. She pushed the thought away. Dean hardly let her swear; she highly doubted he would buy her porn.
Meanwhile, Sam had also pulled out a bottle of whiskey. He let out a whistle. "And Jefferson's Reserve? Damn! How much did that cost you?"
"It's Christmas, Sammy. Price doesn't matter." He turned to Alex. "Go on. Take a look."
Alex blushed, suddenly very self aware. She opened the plastic bag, reaching inside. It was a shirt. Black. She unfolded it, then let out a wide grin. It was the ACDC shirt she had almost gotten Dean at Target. "You serious?" she grinned, turning it so Sam could see.
Dean shrugged. "You like them."
Alex grabbed the bag with the shirt she had gotten for Dean had tossed it to him. He caught it, pulling out the shirt. He grinned as well. "Aw, Pip. How'd you know?"
Alex grinned. "Took a gamble. I almost got you this shirt." She held up the ACDC shirt. Dean chuckled. "And Sammy." Alex fished out the bag with the book she had gotten for Sam. She stood up, handing it to him.
He took it. "Ah, nice." He pulled out the book, flipping through it. "Are those real spells?"
"As far as I know, yeah." Alex shrugged. "I mean, I'm not a expert on Egyptian . . ." she trailed off when Dean started talking to his brother. She sulked on the bed, flipping on the tv. No one actually listened to her. She shook the thought off. It wasn't their fault. She was just too damn quiet sometimes.
"Alex." Sam tossed her a small wrapped package. "Got you something too."
"Aw, Sammy. You shouldn't have." Alex unwrapped it. "Awesome. I've been needing a new one of these." It was a spring-assist knife.
"Yeah, I know." Sam turned back to his conversation with Dean, and Alex let out the smallest hint of a sigh.