Defiance

Courtesy of another of Sam's death visions, the Winchesters are on the hunt again. This time, though, it's different. They know that the daughter killed her father. They know she's dangerous, her telekinetic powers well beyond those of Max. There's just one problem. They don't know which one of the girls killed him.

Somewhere to belong

By the time Dean was up, Sam had gotten them both coffees, knowing that Dean would be craving the brown liquid. By an unspoken agreement, neither of them mentioned how they wanted to do this case. They knew that would just lead to an argument, and they wouldn't be able to keep an eye on the other and stop them from going about it their way.

Eventually, they both found themselves in the car, following the route to Alex's. The car was silent, not even Dean's usual music playing. There weren't many cars around the house when they arrived. The curb directly in front of the house was taken, but that was about it. Not many people would go to a grieving household twice in a row. Even if it was for different people.

Sam got out of the car, noticing the police pulling away from the curb. He somehow felt as though another consciousness, another mind, was next to his. As though, if he reached out, he could… what? He asked himself. Grasp it? He shook his head and did his best to ignore the feeling.

This time, unlike yesterday, the door was closed. Sam shared a look with Dean, shrugged his shoulders and knocked. Helen answered the door, eyes red rimmed and dark bags under her eyes. Her hair was down, in a large tangled mess, instead of the perfect straight it had been the day before. Her face had tear tracks all over it, and she was still snuffling. She offered a watery smile at the boys before she burst into tears, crying the way she obviously had been doing before answering the door.

"Oh, hey." Dean hurried to comfort the girl, hugging her shaking body. "Shhh, hey, it's going to be OK." Helen nodded and pulled against his embrace. Dean hurriedly let her go, knowing that when someone gave you those signs, you listened, no matter what.

Helen walked into the lounge and sat among her friends. They all looked at the boys when they entered, assessing them, making their own judgments. They'd been at the house the day before; Sam recognised a few of them.

"Alex is in her room." One of the friends told them, flicking her head to Alex's door. Sam and Dean nodded their thanks before heading to in the direction the girl had aimed. Sam knocked, calling out to Alex who it was. He felt for her, almost as though it'd also been his sister who'd died. Alex opened the door and pulled Sam into a tight hug.

Sam was taken back by her appearance. Her eyes seemed to have sunken in, bags making it look like she had nasty black eyes. She was pale and cold. Her hair looked like it was being weaved into a mat, and there were tears all over her face. Her whole body shook as she clung onto Sam.

"Dean, she needs water and sugar." Sam murmured to his brother, as Alex buried her face into Sam's jacket. Dean nodded and headed back out to get her water, juice and something along the lines of an éclair. He didn't begrudge Sam telling him what to do. He wouldn't very well have been able to do any of that with Alex holding onto him like a life raft.

After asking Helen and her friends, Dean got the necessary things from the kitchen. He found a glass of juice, a bottle of water, a finger bun and made a toasted sandwich for her. He carried it all back to her room. He'd forgotten all about wanting to kill one of the girls when they were so obviously grieving.

In the mean time, Sam had gotten Alex back to her bed. She'd refused to let him go, so he sat, leaning on the wall, Alex curled, crying, on his lap. Dean sat next to them both, and handed Sam the glass of juice first. After a lot of urging, concerned orders, and crying, Alex took the glass in her shaking hands and started to drink it. By the time she was done, her eyes were clear enough for the brothers to see the haunted look in them.

More coaxing and an hour later, Alex had eaten the bun and toasted sandwich, and was sipping the bottle of water. Her breathing had evened out but both the boys doubted she was up to talking. So they stayed, comforting her in any way they could, soothing her, taking her mind off the death of her dad and sister. Although neither of them had been by blood, they were close enough to it, they were all she had. Sam was actually surprised that she wasn't hanging onto Helen with all she had.

Eventually, though, Alex's eyes slid closed, her body slumped and she began to breathe deeply. Sam and Dean took it as their cue to leave. Sam very carefully broke her grip on him and moved her into her bed, pulling her blankets up. He refilled the bottle and left it near her bed, a silent order for her to remember. When they were done, they walked out.

"I thought you were about to kiss her head, Sammy." Dean laughed at his brother. Sam's dark eyes met his, and Dean's laughter cut short. Truth be told, Dean had felt the need to take care of her just as Sam had. The feeling reminded him more and more of looking after Sam when he was young. He got into the Impala, but he didn't drive it far. It didn't matter to him that it was day; he was going to wait for the killer.

Sam was on the same page, to a point. He got to the back of the Impala, and pulled out a gun, grabbing normal, sliver and copper rounds. He was going to find out what was hurting these girls. If it was one of the girls, he would try to help them. If it was some thing else… well, that was their job. It didn't matter what it was to him, at this point, it was going down. For good measure, he also grabbed a sliver knife. He hid all theses things, and headed back the way they came, staying out of sight.

Dean followed, both slipping into the yard, silently. He, like Sam, had grabbed more ammo. But, unlike Sam, he'd also grabbed salt, gasoline, and a box of matches. He figured it might be a spirit, but Sam had never looked up deaths. He'd been so focused on the girls, not ever thinking that they might not be involved. He cursed that, knowing they should have done their research; they should have looked at every possible angle. Should, should, should… but they hadn't.

They found hidden points in the yard, and both took position. The sun sunk below the horizon and the air began to get colder. Dean once again cursed their thoughtlessness. They should have brought torches.

Sam was beginning to get cramps all through his body from crouching in his chosen spot. He wanted something to happen, just so he could move. He wanted… he wasn't sure what. A werewolf to try attack him? Casper to pop in and say hi? He didn't really know. But he wanted something to happen, just so he didn't have to stay like this for the rest of the night. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle that. If he was here all night, he wouldn't be able to protect them in the morning. The thought terrified him.

The night moved closer and closer to the stroke of twelve.

Sam was nodding off. He knew he was, and he was fighting desperately to stay awake. He needed to be there if this family needed them. His cramped muscles had gone numb, and, although preferable to the pain he'd been experiencing beforehand, it was still annoying.

Without warning, Sam felt a sudden sense of panic and alarm. Searching for the source, he found the other consciousness, the thing he'd felt before. Without a second though, Sam began to run, not stopping when he heard Dean shout.

Dean cursed his brother and ran after him. He had no idea why he was acting like that. There had been nothing to go racing off about. There was no sign that anything was wrong.

Sam didn't slow down when he reached the door. Already broken from Dean the previous night, it didn't take much get it out of the way. He raced to the door he knew hid Alex's bed. He froze as the door swang open. There was no one there. He raced to the next door. No one was here either. The door after that held the same results. He raced to the last door, half expecting it, too, to be empty. He definitely wasn't expecting what he found.

It was their father's room. The picture frame of the three girls, and the clothes in the cupboard told him that. Alex had obviously woken up in her room after the brothers had left and come in here for comfort. She was in the bed, silently staring at the ceiling. Her eyes were wide, filled with horror. Her arm was stretched up, towards the ceiling. If Sam didn't look up, he might have thought it had just been a very realistic nightmare.

Her stomach bleeding, Helen was pinned to the ceiling. Her hair was spread out like a large halo around her head, as though she was lying on the floor, instead of the opposite. Her green eyes were wide and staring, laced with pain she couldn't scream about. Just as Jess had been. Just as their mother had been. A quick glance at Alex told him that she was still frozen, blood dripping down onto the bed she was lying on.

Sam ran forward, grabbed Alex and tried to drag her out of the house. Dean followed him in, Sam grabbing one shoulder to carry her, Dean grabbing the other. There was some resiance, but after a few seconds, she came fairly easily. They'd just gotten into the lounge room when the blast of fire that had once been Helen increased the heat of the house by a few hundred times. The boys continued to run, Alex now trying to run with them, throwing them slightly off balance.

They all burst out the door, and Alex crumpled to the grass, pulling the boys with her. They stayed there until the fire department arrived and moved them all out of the way. Sam stayed with Alex all the way, not knowing how she was going to deal with the death of all that she knew as family. She seemed fine, but the death grip she had on him once they were away from the house scared him.

"You have to stay." She told him. Her eyes told him of the terror that she had at the thought of him going and he quickly agreed to stay with her for a while. She relaxed a bit, but still didn't let go of him.

The fire was put out quickly, saving half the house. That half included Alex's room. She didn't seem too happy about that, but then, no one could blame her for it. After the crews were sure that the fire wasn't going to come back from the ashes, they went to Alex, Sam and Dean for answers.

"I-I don't really know. I-I just w-woke up, and they-" she indicated Sam and Dean, "were there. T-they told me that there was a fire. They g-got me out here." She told the man. He nodded and went to turn away before Alex stopped him with a question. "H-Helen, my sister. Is she in there?"The man sighed as he turned back.

"I'm sorry." He told her. Alex just nodded at him, and Sam could see she was closing down, going into shock. He grabbed her and told one of the firemen where they could find their motel. He pulled her into the back seat of the Impala with him and waited until Dean got into the front seat. They wordlessly drove back to their room, and Sam surrendered his bed to Alex. She'd been through hell these last few nights, so he could give her the small luxury of a proper bed to sleep in.

Once she was settled, Sam made himself comfy on the softest part of the floor he could find, a large jacket over the top of himself. It took him a long time to fall asleep, but when he did, the usually cheerful girl just sat with her arms thrown around herself, legs hugged to her chest. Sam tried to give her as much comfort as he could, not able to touch her.

Alex woke in a strange bed. She was slightly confused as to how she'd gotten there. Then it all came flooding back. Helen on the ceiling. The firemen. Being driven to a motel. Someone tucking her into this bed. She struggled with her breath as image after image replayed in her mind. A hole grew in her chest as she mourned the loss of her whole family.

She came back to her body with strong arms wrapped around her. Opening her eyes, she saw someone she'd known a grand total of three days. Someone who had saved her. Someone who she trusted with her life. The picture of him running into the room, seen only out of the corner of her eye as Helen stuck to the ceiling came to mind. Unlike her, he hadn't seemed to have any denial. He didn't stop to think he was crazy. He just seemed shocked to find it happening there.

Alex pulled out of the safe circle of his arms and got off the bed, her own arms crossed in front of her. She was still in her PJs, she realised: a large, stretched shirt pulled over her tiny shorts. Feeling self conscious, she noticed a jacket, and quickly slipped into it, hiding herself before turning back to Sam with her arms crossed. Dean stood with him, next to the bed, amusement radiating out of every pore.

"What was it?" she demanded of them. Dean instantly went from laughing to on guard, and Sam went from curious to wary. Sam got off the bed and went to stand with his brother.

"Alex, it was a fire." Sam told her, his voice soft, concerned.

"Don't give me that crap!" she growled at them both. "Helen was on the roof!" Sam and Dean shared a look before turning back to her. Once again, Sam did the talking.

"A demon." Sam corrected himself.

"Helen's no demon!" Alex cried. "If anyone is, it's me." he voice was so soft, Sam barely caught it. She obviously wasn't happy about what she'd done. Her whole body language said plainly that she was sad about it. She was looking at her feet, and her shoulders were hunched as though she was expecting to be hit. Sam and Dean once again shared a look. An understanding passed between them: Alex had killed her family, but she hadn't done it purposefully.

"A demon killed Helen." Sam told her. Alex looked up at them.

"Tell me about them." Alex insisted.

"You should sit down." Sam told her. Alex obediently sat on the bed, and Sam began to tell her. He knew he couldn't just tell her about demons. That would raise more questions, like, how and why did they know that. So it was just easier to tell her the whole thing. No one would believe her if she recounted it to anyone else, so they were safe on that account. It just wasn't something they normally did. So Sam started with the death of their mum, a brief story about their 'childhood', before telling her about Jess and hunting.

Alex sat silently though it all, never looking surprised, apart from at the beginning. Occasionally, she nodded to herself, though, and she smiled at him, as though she knew something he didn't. Once he'd told her about their life, he told her what he knew of demons. It wasn't much, but it was all he knew. Once he was done, Alex smiled and looked up at them, saying two words.

"I'm in." she told them. Dean reacted first.

"Hell no, you're not!" he told her, stepping towards her to emphasize his point. Alex's eye brows rose.

"Hell yes, I am." She growled right back at him. "I'm in whether you want me or not. I already know a little about the supernatural."

"Yeah, right. Listen, Alex. The horror films are so wrong, it's funny. What ever you think you know, you don't." Dean growled at her. Alex sent him an evil grin.

"I know about werewolves, vampires, spirits and witches." Alex growled back. Before Dean could deny her any further, she stated some basic facts about them. Dean stood speechless for a few seconds.

"I don't care." He growled back at her. "I don't particularly want to have to baby sit while I'm hunting. You wouldn't even be able to defend yourself for five seconds." Sam noticed that Alex's eyes brightened at this. He was honestly torn between leaving Alex and bringing her with them. He wanted her with them, but he knew it wasn't a smart idea. Sam still couldn't shake the thought, but he knew Dean would never go for it.

"If I can beat you in a fight, say… pin you for thirty seconds, I get to come with you. I'll just get some things from my house, and make a few arrangements before we set off." She told him.

"And if I win, you leave us the hell alone. You forget about the supernatural, and you never get involved." Dean answered. They shook hands and were deciding on a place that would attract the least attention before Sam knew it.

Dazed, Sam followed them to the car, sliding into the back seat when Alex claimed shotgun. The houses few by, and Sam didn't realise where they were headed until they'd reached the burnt building. They all walked to the back yard, and Dean and Alex set themselves up for the fight.

"You OK, Sammy?" Sam blinked as Dean's hand landed on his shoulder. He nodded at his brother, then swallowed and smiled at him.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He reassured Dean. "Just try not to kill her." Dean laughed.

"Don't worry. This wont take long, then we can hit the road." He answered before he stalked towards Alex. She was still stretching, but as Dean approached her, she lashed out, throwing a punch at his diaphragm. The fight had started.

Dean blocked it, and moved to trip Alex, but she saw it coming, jumped and kicked out at Dean's stomach. Realising he had a fight on his hands, Dean started to fight harder. Blocking the kick, he threw a punch aimed at Alex's shoulder. She stepped it, dropped and spun, hooking Dean's legs with one of her own. He fell on this back, and Alex moved to try to get his arms out of the picture. Dean waited till she was on him before turning, and pinning her.

Sam stood transfixed as Alex squirmed out from under Dean, and began to fight him again. Ten minutes, and a few hundred bruises later, Dean was sprawled on his stomach, Alex sitting on his lower back, effectively taking Dean's legs out of action. She grabbed one of his arms, twisted it, palm up on his back, and tugged it up. Dean hissed in pain, and his other hand reached around blindly to get Alex off him.

Sam counted the seconds.

1, 2, 3… Dean was still struggling on the ground, teeth gritted in pain and concentration.

10, 11, 12… Dean had now gotten a hold of Alex's leg and was tugging on it, wriggling to try dislodge her. Alex tugged his arm up further, earning her another hiss of pain.

20, 21, 22… In a desperate attempt, Dean was trying to roll over, to put his back to the ground. Another tug of his hand made him stop and try catch his breath. Sam reached thirty, and Alex didn't move. She and Dean stayed there for two minutes before Alex let go and backed away from Dean. Dean hissed in pain as he stood and rolled his shoulder.

"I win." Alex stated, locking gaze with Dean. "I'm going to pack, and make a few arrangements. You'd better still be here when I get back, or I'll haunt your ass till judgment day." She growled.

"Fine." Dean growled right back. "Go pack your make-up kits and lets get going."

Alex walked into her room, which was undamaged by the fire. It was on the other side of the house, away from her dad's room. She pulled out a few bags and wondered what she should take. She was leaving for good, and she could only take two bags of things.

Alex carefully picked her clothes. Copying the boys, it was mainly jeans, shirts and a black leather jacket her dad had gotten for her twenty-second birthday. She turned to her books, and ran her fingers across them. It was sad to have to leave them behind, but she knew what was needed. Grabbing a few of her text books, she threw them into the mix, and added a folder with a few blank pages. It was a good size, small enough to carry, but big enough to actually put information in. Pages could be taken out, and put back in. Helen had gotten it for her a few years ago, but she'd never found anything to put in it. Now, she reasoned, she could put supernatural information in it, alphabetical order.

She knew it probably wasn't a good idea for jewellery, but she hadn't missed the necklace Dean was wearing and there was only one she was really after. It was from Stacy, a small blue and green stone, hanging on a sturdy golden chain. She threw in onto her bed, making sure it was apart from the bags. She'd wear it when she got changed.

Alex carefully chose her photo, placing it into her favourite frame and wrapped it in a blue square of material to protect it. It was from the year before. They'd all gone on a bike ride that day, dragging their dad out of the house. It was one of her fondest memories right now. It had been a bad time. She'd just gotten dumped by the boyfriend that she'd been going out with for three years. Helen was scared she was going to lose her job, and had been freaking out for a few weeks. Stacy was going through a rough patch with her boyfriend, and their dad had been under strain from work. The day had made them all forget out their troubles, and they'd just talked about the happier times. They'd gotten the picture out the front of the house when they gotten back, the old couple happy to help. Their bikes were resting on their hips.

She put things into her bag with a lot of thought. The things she left behind, she tried to fix in her memory. There were more then a few tears in the hours of packing.

Eventually, Alex pulled on some sturdy jeans, boots and shirts, with her leather jacket over the top. She pulled her hair up, and clipped on her necklace. She then pulled on her belt that she gotten as a joint present from her friends and family. It was made to be hidden by the bottom of your shirt, and had places where different weapons where supposed to go. At that moment in time, it held a knife in its scabbard on the front of her right hip and nun-chucks on the back of her left hip.

Once she was sure she had everything, she picked up the phone, and organised everything else to be auctioned off. The money would go to her card, and no where else. With a last goodbye to the house, and everything she'd ever known, Alex got into the back of the 1967 Chevrolet Impala with the small pieces of her past in the bags.

As the car pulled way from the house, Metallica blaring through the speaker system, Alex felt like she'd found her place in the world at last.

A/N: This isn't the end. Please, please, please tell me what you think.