"Hey."
Alex looked over at Sam, sitting in the front seat. "What?"
"Found a new case." He turned his laptop so she could see it. "Sioux Falls. A man witnessed a murder."
"So?" It was nine days after they had taken Famine's ring. Nine days hunting down a nest of vampires that ended up being a total bust. "That means nothing to us."
"So get this. The man, Wells, claims he got a good look at the murder. Recognized him too; said it was Clay Thompson. Only problem? Clay's been dead five years."
Alex recoiled. "Is this going to be a zombie case? I hate zombies."
The door opened. "Zombies?"
"Sam found a case," Alex explained. "A man was killed by a dead man."
"Sounds like fun. Where?" Dean slid into the driver's seat.
"Sioux Falls," Sam repeated.
"Oh, good," Dean nodded. "Is it near Bobby's? We should check on him."
"Uh, yeah." Sam looked at the article again.
"Awesome." Dean nodded. "Sioux Falls it is." They peeled out of the gas station parking lot.
...
It was a four hour drive. At one point Sam and Dean stopped, changing into their suits and ties. Sam hung up his phone. "We're to meet Mr. Wells at the Philip Avenue Diner."
"Ooh. I love that place." Alex leaned back in her seat, adjusting her necklace beneath her shirt.
...
February 27th, 2010
Sioux Falls, South Dakota
They pulled into Sioux Falls, and Dean parked the car outside of the diner. Sam dialed Bobby's number again. It rang, but no one answered. "Bobby, when you get this message, call, okay?" Sam said. Then he hung up. Sighing, he got out of the car.
Dean followed. "Is he still not home? How far can he get in that chair?" They entered the diner, and Alex followed at a distance.
"So what do we do?" Sam asked quietly.
"Well . . . I guess we just do it ourselves," Dean shrugged. The diner wasn't very crowded, and a man sat at the far booth. He and Sam sat down opposite of the man. "Mr. Wells? Agents Phillip and Coulson. FBI."
Mr. Wells studied them, then nodded.
"You said you witnessed a murder. Is that right Mr. Wells?" Dean addressed the unkept-looking man. "Why don't you tell us what you saw in your own words."
"Call me Digger." The man looked suspiciously over at Alex. She flashed her FBI badge just for good measure before taking a seat on the bar stool across from them.
"Digger? Who gave you that name?" Dean drew Digger's attention back to him.
"I did."
"You gave yourself your own nickname?" Dean glanced at Sam. "You can't do that."
"Who died and made you queen?" Digger shot back.
"Okay," Sam broke the tension. "Um, why don't you just tell us what you saw."
"I saw Clay Thompson climb in Benny Sutton's trailer through the window. Couple of minutes later, Clay comes out, and Benny's dead."
"And uh," Dean held up the photo of Clay he had pulled out of the papers, "you're sure this is the guy?"
"Well, he was all covered in mud, but yeah, that's Clay."
"And you are aware Clay Thompson died five years ago?" Dean persisted.
"Yep."
"And you're positive this is the guy?"
"Are you calling me a liar?" Digger snapped.
Alex shifted. She got off of the bar stool and walked into the bathroom.
...
A minutes later, Alex walked out of the restroom and back into the restaurant. Then she stopped cold. "Damn."
Sam and Dean were sitting in the booth, talking to Sheriff Mills. "FBI, huh?" She stopped, looking up at Alex. "Alex?"
Sam and Dean glanced back at her.
"Damn," she repeated, reluctantly walking forward.
Sheriff Mills turned back to Sam and Dean. "So, uh, you know Bobby Singer?" Sam stammered out, shooting a glance at Alex.
"That's a . . . fun coincidence," Dean added.
"Here's what I know about Bobby Singer. He's a menace around here, ass-full of drunk-and-disorderly and mail fraud. You understanding me?"
Alex let out a breath of offense at her harsh words.
The sheriff turned to Alex. "And something tells me you're in on this too. Now listen to me. I don't want to see a young girl like you getting into trouble because of them. You hear me?"
"Yes ma'am," Alex said quietly.
"I think we can all agree that you've made yourself perfectly clear, yes," Dean agreed.
"So, whatever the three of you are planning, it ends here. Now." The Sheriff's eyes flickered from face to face. "Ten-four on that, agents?"
"Yeah." Sam and Dean nodded.
"Good. And stay out of trouble," she told Alex, who nodded as well. "It's bad enough that you have to live with that Bobby. I've seen the people that head up his way. You shouldn't be hanging around with people like them. You understand?" When Alex nodded again, she left the restaurant.
"You're Bobby's girl?" Digger asked her.
Alex sighed, shrugging her shoulders. "Yeah, that's me."
Sam and Dean got up and left. Alex followed.
"That sheriff chewed you out, girl," Dean shook his head in disbelief, unlocking the Impala.
"Whatever." Alex glanced around to see the sheriff watching them from across the street. When Alex got into the back seat, she saw her frown.
"You know her?"
"I guess. She's been the sheriff for a while now. She's not happy that I've been living with Bobby and all. Oh well."
Dean drove off, and Alex sighed again.
...
They drove down to the Singer Salvage Yard. Dean parked the Impala, and they walked up to the back door. Sam and Dean had both changed at a gas station on the ride over, and were now wearing their casual clothes. Dean knocked on the door.
"Who is it?" they heard Bobby yell.
"Dean and Sam," Dean answered.
"And Alex!" Alex added.
After a few seconds, the door opened, and Alex saw Bobby there in his wheelchair. "Hey girl." He smiled up her.
"Hey Bobby." Alex let Sam and Dean enter first, then followed. Bobby started rolling into through the study.
"Do you know how many times we called?" Dean snapped. "Where have you been?"
"Playing murderball," Bobby rolled his eyes.
Dean stopped. "What's that smell?" He asked. Alex sniffed the air as well. "Is that soap? Have you been cleaning?"
"What are you, my mother? Bite me!" Bobby was starting to get defensive, and Alex narrowed her eyes.
"Bobby, seriously," Sam cut in.
"I've been working. You know, trying to find a way to stop the devil?"
"Find anything?"
"What do you think?"
"Bobby, it's just . . ." Sam glanced over at Dean, "there's a case five miles from your house."
"What the, the Benny Sutton thing?" Bobby looked over at Alex. "That's what's this is about?"
Alex shrugged. "Yeah."
"You know about this?" Dean asked angrily.
"Hell yes. I've checked into it already. There's nothing here."
"Except a witness who saw dead guy commit murder," Sam snapped.
"What witness? Digger Wells?"
"So?"
"So he's a drunk!"
"Well, what about the lightning storms? They look like omens."
"Except in February in South Dakota in storm season. Look, guys, I thought there was something here too. But sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."
"So then who killed Sutton?" Alex asked.
Bobby shrugged. "Take your pick. This Benny Sutton guy was a grad A son of a bitch. There's a list of the living a year long who wouldn't mind putting a cap in his ass."
"So, you're telling us . . . nothing?" Dean looked down at Alex.
Bobby shook his head. "Sorry. Looks like you wasted a tank of gas on this one, boys."
"Great," Dean muttered.
...
They spent several more hours there until Dean decided it was time to head out. The sky was already dark, not that they cared. After saying their goodbyes, they drove away. They had only been driving for ten minutes when Dean stopped the car.
"What?" Alex perked up, leaning over the bench seat.
"Isn't that the graveyard Thompson was buried at?" Dean asked.
"St. Anthony's?" Sam glanced back to see the cemetery entrance.
"Yeah." Dean nodded. "That was St. Anthony's."
"Yeah? So what? Bobby said he already checked it out."
"And?" Dean looked over at Sam. "What? Bobby's never been wrong? Come on. We'll take a peak, then we'll hit the road again. It can't hurt."
Alex agreed, and Dean pulled the car off of the road. He handed out flashlights, and took a shovel for himself and Sam. Quickly glancing up and down the road, he led them into the cemetery.
Alex shone her flashlight over the headstones, quietly stepping through the long grass.
"Hey." Sam stopped. Alex walked over to him. He was standing by a grave. Clay Thompson.
"Does this dirt look fresh to you?" Dean asked.
Alex looked down. He was right. The dirt had been recently overturned. Both of the brothers unfolded their shovels, and immediately began to dig.
...
It took almost an hour of them trading off, but soon Sam hit wood. Alex jumped out of the hole, sitting on the edge of the grave. Sam cleared away the rest of the dirt. Right away, Alex noticed the front of the wooden coffin was torn to splinters. That was a bad sign, and she voiced her opinion.
Sam didn't answer, but opened the top half of the coffin. It was empty.
Alex cursed. "Shit."
"Okay, new plan." Dean shook his head in confusion. "First, let's get this place cleaned up, huh?"
Sam agreed, closing the coffin and jumping out of the hole. As they filled it in, Dean continued, "Obviously Clay is topside. We should check out his place. Sammy?"
"Clay had a wife and kids," Sam offered. "I have their address in the car."
"Okay." Dean dropped his shovel, patting down the dirt with his foot. "Let's go."
...
Ten minutes later they pulled up next to a darkened house in Sioux Falls. Sam and Dean gabbed their flashlights and got out. Alex started to follow, but Dean stopped her. "Sorry girl. You stay out here, keep an eye out, okay?" He took a walkie-talkie from the glovebox, leaving the other for her.
"It's because I'm clumsy," Alex sighed.
"Basically." Dean and Sam walked across the street. Sam picked the lock, and they entered. Alex sighed, crawling into the front seat. She looked up and down the street, waiting.
...
A few minutes later, three police cars came speeding around the bend. Alex slumped down in her seat, hoping for them to pass. They didn't. Alex reached for the walk-talkie as the cops got out. "Dean?" she asked into it. There was a knock on the window, and Alex's heart sunk as she recognized Sheriff Mills.
"Dean?" she asked into it again.
The sheriff opened the car door and pulled her out. The walkie-talkie fell to the car floor. "Mind explaining what you're doing here?" she asked coldly.
"Oh, not much," Alex shrugged. "What about you?"
"We got a 9-1-1 call from that house." Sheriff Mills pointed the Clay Thompson's house.
"Oh." Alex blinked. "That's weird. I haven't seen anything."
"Okay. Why don't you come with me." The sheriff started walking her towards one of the cop cars. The door to the house opened, and a man walked out, followed by Sam and Dean. They were deep in conversation, but stopped. Their eyes flickered around, finally coming to rest on Sheriff Mills and Alex.
She smiled apologetically before she was roughly shoved against the car, her hands forced behind her back. "Ow," she complained. She was forced into the police car, and a minute later Sam and Dean joined her.
"Thanks for the warning," Dean grumbled.
"I started to warn you," Alex snapped back. "But the sheriff here hauled my ass over here before I could say anything."
"Stay quiet back there." Sheriff Mills got behind the wheel. They fell silent for the rest of the ride.
...
They arrived at the Sioux Falls Police Station within the next several minutes. They were put in a holding cell, and Dean called Bobby. He returned, and sat down on the bench. "So what?" he finally asked after sitting silently for several minutes. "The sheriff's on the take?"
"Yea- No." Sam shook his head. "You think the zombies are paying her off?" He glanced out the cell, then did a double take. "Hey."
Alex followed his gaze. The sheriff and Bobby were talking. Jody Mills' arms were crossed, and she was frowning.
"So what?" Dean scoffed. "Now they're friends?"
Sheriff Mills approached, unlocking the cell door. "You're free to go," she told them. "But next time, I won't be so lenient, understand?"
"Crystal clear," Dean nodded. He followed Sam out.
"Alex." Mills put her hand on her shoulder. "You better stop this right now. I don't want to see you back here, you understand?"
"Yeah," Alex nodded, "I get it." She walked over to where Sam and Dean were pushing Bobby out through the door. The air was cold, and she pulled her jacket tighter around her.
Sam shifted his grip on the wheelchair handle. "Bobby, I thought the sheriff hated you."
"She did, until about five days ago."
"Well, what happened five days ago?" Dean looked over at at Alex. She shrugged.
"The dead started rising all over town." Bobby didn't glance back at Dean.
"So you knew about this?"
"Yep."
Dean huffed. "I think what Sam meant to say was, 'so you lied to us?'"
"Look, I just told you there was nothing here, and there ain't. Not for you."
"There are zombies here," Dean snapped.
"There are zombies, and there are zombies. Come with me." Bobby started rolling towards the Impala.
Dean helped Bobby into the car, and they drove back to Bobby's house. Dean and Sam tried to talk to him, but he refused to answer.
...
"For that last time," Dean said, following Bobby into his house "you want to tell us what the hell this is all about?" He trailed off as a woman entered into the study.
"Oh hey." She stopped. "I didn't realize you were bringing company." Her face looked familiar, but Alex couldn't place it.
"It's four a.m. babe," Bobby said, his voice growing gentle. "You didn't need to cook."
Alex suddenly recognized the woman. Karen Singer, Bobby's dead wife. It was her that was in all of those pictures in the attic. How was she here?
"Oh please." Karen's voice broke her thoughts. "I'll get some more plates." She disappeared into the kitchen.
"Who was that?" Dean whispered as soon as she was out of earshot.
"Karen. My wife." Bobby turned back to them.
"Your new wife?"
"My dead wife."
"Oh crap." Alex stopped dead. "I remember this."
Sam and Dean turned back to look at her. "Really? What do we do?"
"Well I am going to get the hell out of Dodge. I don't do zombies, Dean." Alex took a step back. "I'll just take an all-expenses-paid-by-me trip to all points nowhere-near-here." She stepped back again, slowly making her way towards the door. "You two hang tight, okay? You don't mind the whole zombie thing, right?"
"She's not a zombie," Bobby snapped, wheeling them all back into the study. He closed the sliding door. "Dammit, Alex, she's not. Look at her. Don't you think I tested her?"
"I know, Bobby." Alex's heart twisted in pain at the sight of the hunter. "And I am so, so sorry. But she'll turn. They all will. It-It, uh, starts with some old woman. The first to come up, I believe. Then they all snap. I'm sorry, but I've got to go."
"Hey. Hey!" Dean stopped her as she walked away. "Face your fears, girl. That's the only way to conquer them."
"She's not a zombie," Bobby persisted. "She can't be. I cremated her!"
Dean and Sam froze, but Alex just shook her head. "Zombies aren't real, Dean. Something rose these people. And to be completely honest, the person behind all of this is starting to scare almost as much as the zombies. He's looking for me, and I've got to run." Alex knew it wasn't a total lie; Lucifer was starting to scare her. But overall, she wanted to get away from the walking dead.
Dean let go of her shoulder, letting his arm drop to his side. "Uh, okay," he relented. "Just keep your phone close, you hear? And if you remember anything else, call."
"Will do. Stay safe." Alex quickly walked towards the back door, heart racing. She rifled through several keys before pulling out the keys to her Chevelle. The Impala's trunk was unlocked, and she grabbed her duffle bag. Getting into her own car, she quickly drove down the road and out of the town.
...
Ten or so miles out, she began looking for a motel. Finding one, she checked in, using one of the credit cards that went with her fake ID. It was easy enough, and she checked in under the name of Jen Rockford in case Sam or Dean couldn't contact her.
Arriving at her room, she started watching tv, but felt her eyes beginning to close, and she changed into sweatpants. She crawled back under the covers, and fell asleep.
...
She opened her eyes. She was still in the darkened motel room, but something felt different. She reached for the light switch, but it didn't work. She tried again, frowning. "Don't turn on the light," a familiar voice whined.
Alex sat up, pulling her gun out from under the pillow. In one swift motion she flicked off the safety and cocked it, aiming it at the voice.
"Now, there's no need for that," Lucifer said. He stood up, hands held out non-threateningly. "Alex - it's Alex, right? I just want to talk."
"So I've heard." Alex cleared her gun and put it back under the pillow. "Well? I'm listening." She crossed her legs. "Shoot."
Lucifer let out a quiet laugh. "You don't seem very afraid."
"This is a dream, isn't it?" Alex slightly cocked her head to one side. "You can't track me down; I'm hidden from all angels."
"Very smart." Lucifer crossed the room and sat down on the bed across from her. "But you weren't afraid of me in Carthage either. Sam and Dean were terrified; but not you. Why?"
"Why?" Alex chuckled. "Why should I be afraid of you? 'Daddy was mean to me and now I'm going to destroy the world.' You're nothing more than a toddler having a temper tantrum."
Anger flared in the archangel's eyes. "Do you know why I fell?"
"Yes. You loved God, he created little hairless apes, Michael beat you down - save the sob story." Alex rolled her eyes.
"Your arrogance is getting irritating," Lucifer warned her, leaning forward. "Now tell me. How do you know about me?"
Alex leaned forward as well, her face only inches from his. "I don't have to tell you squat," she whispered. "And if I didn't actually like you to some small degree, I would have told the Winchesters just how to kill you. For real this time."
"I am an archangel. Don't you dare threaten me," Lucifer hissed, blue eyes blazing. "In fact, if I didn't think that you were somewhat useful, you would be dead. There is nothing keeping you alive right now except for my ever-amazing mercy."
"And the fact that I know something you don't. That's what's keeping me alive. And I have no intention of sharing it. Not to you, and definitely not to Michael." She let out a breath, leaning back. "I don't feel like you understand how nice I am being."
"Oh?" Lucifer cocked an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
"I'm telling you flat out that I'm not going to tell you what I know. Yet I could have just as easily lied to you."
The devil laughed. "You can't lie to me."
"Why not? In this conversation alone, I've lied . . . three times already. How many of those have you cottoned on to?"
Lucifer's eyes darkened in confusion. He stood up and walked over to the far room. "I like your spirit," he told her. "There are very few humans like you. I don't think I'm going to kill you. Unless you get in my way, you hear?" He glanced back at her. "Hm." He picked something up off of the table. "The Scottish Motel, eh? I hope you don't mind if I visit you."
Alex's breath caught in her throat, but she refused to show her fear. "I'd rather you not," she retorted, steadying her voice. Crap.
The archangel chuckled. "I'll think about it." Then he was gone, and Alex woke up.
...
The motel room was still dark. Alex sat up, heart beating fast. "Castiel?" she called. "Cas?" Louder this time. "Castiel!"
"What's wrong?" Castiel appeared in the middle of the room.
Alex jumped up and ran over to him, pulling him into a hug.
"Is everything okay?" the angel asked, eyes dark with worry.
"I-I had a dream," Alex began, taking deep breaths to calm herself. "Lucifer was in my head. I, I think it was real. I don't know how he found me."
She felt Castiel stiffen. "It's okay," he said slowly. "I'm here. I won't let him hurt you."
Alex sighed. "Thank you," she whispered.
"You should sleep," the angel told her. "You haven't slept in several days."
Alex started to protest, but thought better of it. The truth was, she felt like she hadn't been sleeping for the past few hours, and was still very, very tired.
She walked back over to the bed and crawled in. However, as soon as she closed her eyes, panic started to build up. She wished Dean was there; whenever she was scared he would be right next to her in the bed, keeping her safe. But now it was just her. She rolled onto her stomach, making out Castiel's form in the dim light.
At the sound of her moving, he turned his head. "What's wrong?"
"I can't sleep," Alex admitted quietly. "I'm scared."
Castiel hesitated, then approached, standing by the bedside. Alex scooted over to make room. He sat down on the edge, then carefully stretched out, leaning against the headboard. Alex pressed her back into his side, finding comfort in his solidness. He let out a small sigh, and began whispering something in Enochian. It soothed Alex, and she soon fell asleep.
...
When she woke up, Castiel was gone. She stretched, looking around. The room was empty. If Lucifer had showed up, he hadn't made his presence known. Looking at the clock, she noticed it was almost eight. She considered calling Dean, but if he hadn't called her, he probably was fine. She decided it was time for a shower. She pulled of her tank top, tracing her left side. The scar from the werewolf was completely gone. She ran a light finger down her left leg, studying the pale white line that was all that was left from that horrifying experience. With a small sigh, she walked into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
...
She stepped back out ten minutes later, rifling around in her bag for a clean shirt. There was a flutter of wings, and she glanced up. "Oh. Hey Cas."
"Hello." Castiel adverted his gaze.
Alex smiled at his embarrassment, but pulled her shirt on over her tank top. "What's up?"
"Nothing. I just wanted to make sure you're okay."
"Aww. Thanks Cassie. But I'm fine. Don't worry about me. Truthfully, I'm more terrified of Zachariah and Michael than I am of Lucifer."
Castiel narrowed his eyes in confusion, but said nothing. Then he was gone.
"Cas?" Alex asked. "Uh, did I hurt your feelings? Sorry." He didn't reappear, and Alex sighed. "Whatever."
...
The day passed. Dean called her late in the afternoon to tell her that the first one to come up, who was indeed an old woman, had turned: eaten out her husband's guts. He figured they'd wrap up this case within the next day or two. They passed back and forth a few idle words, then hung up.
Alex was sitting around when there was a knock on the door. Confused, she took her gun, cocked it, and walked over to the door. She unlatched it, and swung it open. Nothing. She narrowed her eyes, looking around. Then she closed it, locking it tight. She turned around.
"Hello."
Alex jumped, raising her gun.
"Again with the gun," Lucifer sighed. He was sitting on the bed, legs crossed. "There's no need for that, you know."
"So I've heard," Alex growled. She began to have a strange sense of deja vu, and shook her head crossly. "What do you want? Wasn't our little talk last night enough?"
Lucifer let out a small laugh. "You never cease to amaze me, Alex. Don't I scare you at all?"
"Not really," Alex lied. "What's there to be scared of?" She decided to play for his favor. "Now, if Michael was here, I'd be scared."
"Oh?" Lucifer tipped his head to one side. "And why is that?"
"Michael wouldn't hesitate to hurt me if he knew I knew the stuff I did." Alex cleared her gun and wandered over, sitting on the bed. "But you won't. I trust you enough to know you won't hurt me. You won't lie to me, and as long as we're on good terms, I won't lie to you."
Lucifer nodded, an emotion flickering in his ice blue eyes. "Fair enough. I assume you know I don't lie."
"You've never had to," Alex finished. "Yeah, I've heard." She blinked, hoping she was gaining his trust.
"But you know why I'm here?"
"Haven't the slightest."
"I want answers. And you seem like just the person who can give them to me."
"I do, do I?" Alex cocked an eyebrow. "Well, no promises. I'm afraid I know very little about what it is you are after."
"Hm. I suppose we will see." A small smile formed across the archangel's lips. He looked around, confusion forming on his face. "Where are Sam and Dean?"
"Sioux Falls. Dealing with a little zombie problem. Sound familiar? I'm sure Death had a good part in that, eh?"
"You know."
"Yes, I do." Alex crossed her arms. "And I don't do zombies. Now, wouldn't it be smart to get out of her before Cassie gets back, hmm?"
"You think he can stop me?"
"I think he'll try."
"Yes, he probably will." Lucifer stood up. "He is unusually protective of you."
"Good to know. Door's that way." Alex stood up as well. "Feel free to get out." She stood up and walked over to the fridge. She opened it, looking for something to drink, but knowing there was nothing.
"I hope you didn't think you could get rid of me this easily," Lucifer's voice sounded near her ear. Alex instinctively lashed out. The archangel let out a low growl and roughly pinned her against the wall. "Ow. Don't do that."
"Sorry," Alex apologized in her most sarcastic tone. "Instinct."
He let her go, roughly shoving her towards the bed. "Sit." She did. "Now I came here for answers, and you're going to give them to me."
"Sure I am," Alex huffed.
"Yes, you are. Now. What do you know?"
"I know a lot." Alex glared defiantly up at him. "To what exactly are you referring to?"
"Don't play games with me," Lucifer growled. "What do you know about me?"
"You? You're Lucifer. The archangel. Cast out of heaven, twisted Lilith into the first demon, and because of that Michael threw you in the cage. You popped out when sixty-six of the seals were broken. Who designed that cage anyways, because it's terribly designed. You only have to break any sixty-six of six hundred plus seals to free the devil? Sounds like a recipe for disaster-"
Lucifer cut her off with a low growl. "That's not what I'm talking about."
"Then be more specific!" Alex hissed.
There was a flutter of wings, and Alex turned. She let out a quiet sigh of relief.
"Castiel." Lucifer acknowledged the angel. "How nice of you to join us, brother."
"Get away from her," Castiel snarled, taking a menacing step forward.
Lucifer just laughed. "You are in no state to threaten me."
"I said, 'get away'." Something glinted in his right hand; an angel blade.
However, Lucifer only cocked his head to one side. "Are you this protective of all of your humans, brother?"
Castiel didn't reply, but tightened his grip on his weapon.
Lucifer turned to Alex. "Until we meet again," he said politely, giving a slight dip of his head. Then he was gone.
Castiel turned to Alex, anger still blazing in his eyes. "Why didn't you call for me?" he asked, voice tense.
Alex shook her head. "I didn't want you to get involved. He could hurt you-"
"He could hurt you!" Castiel snapped.
"I was handling it!"
"Dammit Alex! How do you think I would feel if he hurt you? Think! How could I live knowing I could have saved you?"
Alex didn't respond. She lowered her head, studying the ground.
Castiel sighed. "I'm sorry."
...
She didn't sleep much that night. Dean called around four, telling her they had taken care of the zombie problem. Alex promised that she be back in the morning. Castiel had stood in the corner of the room the entire time, refusing to let her leave his sight.
...
The next day, she drove back to Bobby's. Castiel had refused to leave, and now sat in the front seat. Alex adjusted her grip on the steering wheel. "You don't have to stay," she finally said. "The only reason Lucifer found me was because he found his way into my dreams and saw what motel I was at." She sighed. "I won't make that mistake again. Plus, Sam and Dean will always be there and-"
"I understand." Castiel cut her off. "You don't have to keep talking."
Alex nodded. "Sorry."
Castiel turned to look at her. "Do you want me to leave?" he asked.
Alex quickly backtracked. "No, I mean, not like that. It's not that I don't like being with you, it's just . . . you don't have to stay anymore." She turned the car into the Salvage Yard. "I mean . . ." She looked back over at Cas, then stopped. He was gone. Alex sighed.
...
She found the three of them in the back, some sort of funeral pyre burning in front of them. Alex quickly deduced it was Karen Singer. She briefly closed her eyes before she walked over to them. "Hey."
"Hey." Dean turned to her. "Everything okay?"
"No." Alex shook her head.
"Zombies?"
"Worse. The devil."
At this, everyone turned to look at her. "As in, Lucifer?"
"Yeah. You know of any other devils?" Alex snapped. "Let's just get the hell out of here, okay?"
"He's here?" Sam glanced around nervously.
"Sort of. He was ten minutes out at the motel I was staying at, but Cas chased him away. Still guys, we need to run."