Chapter 2: Family Reunion

"Indifference and neglect often do much more damage than outright dislike." - Order of the Phoenix

Berwyn, Pennsylvania

The Impala growled as they pulled up to the curb, slowing to a stop. Dean cut the engine and looked out at the house before them. It was a pretty normal-looking home - two stories high with yellow siding, a normal brown pointed roof, and a two-car garage. The surrounding area was a typical suburbanite neighborhood, pretty, wooded, and peaceful. It was, in a sense, perfect.

"I don't like it," he stated.

Sam looked up from the map and leaned over the seat, glancing out to where his brother was gazing. "What's not to like?" he asked rhetorically. "It's a pretty normal suburban neighborhood."

"Exactly. Everything's perfect here. Too perfect. Gives me the creeps."

In any other case, Sam would have laughed at his paranoid big brother. However, he kept silent. He knew that this disregard for normal life was just a cover-up, a way of hiding how he was really feeling inside. Besides, he happened to agree with Dean for once. The whole area was just a little too quiet, a little too perfect.

Silently, he waited until Dean made the first move, which he did after a few minutes of impatient waiting. Still muttering murderously under his breath about the perfectness of the area, he opened the door and stepped out onto the street, Sam following close behind. One after another, the doors of the Impala slammed shut, breaking the quiet atmosphere for only a moment before the sound was swallowed up by whatever spell the neighborhood seemed to be under. Together, the brothers walked up the long driveway ("Who the hell needs a driveway this long, anyway?" came the grumble) and towards the dark red door.

"Don't know how she managed to spend all these years in a place like this," Dean muttered as they rang the doorbell.

"If she's still alive," Sam replied quietly.

"Yeah, don't remind me."

Sam didn't have time to even formulate a reply before the door swung suddenly open. Standing there was a young woman, about Dean's age, wearing jeans and a black AC/DC band t-shirt. She was shorter than the brothers by at least half a foot, slender with dark brown hair pulled back in a high ponytail. Blueish-gray eyes gazed up at them with a blank, expectant expression. "Can I help you?" she asked.

For a moment, Dean just stared at her as Sam started to come up with some cock-and-bull cover story - possibly about how they were police, just coming to ask a few questions. He felt his mouth go dry. It was her. Her hair had changed color, but it was definitely her. How she was still alive, he had no idea. As he became aware that his brother was still coming up with a cover story, he quickly interjected and snapped himself out of his daze. "We're the McDonnell brothers, just moved in a few streets down," he said with a big faked smile. "We're just kind of going door to door, trying to get to know the neighbors, and we thought we'd stop by for a bit."

Sam gave his brother a quick look, but then hurriedly smiled and tried to confirm that what he'd just said was true. Surprise showed on the woman's face for a few moments before she covered it up. "Oh," she said. "Well, uh, welcome to the neighborhood. Do you, uh, do you wanna come in for a minute? It's kind of cold out there."

"If-if that's okay with you. We don't wanna inconvenience you or anything -"

"No, no, it's fine. My parents are both at work and I wouldn't mind the company. It gets pretty quiet here by myself."

The brothers shot each other a look, then smiled back at her again. "Well, if you'll have us, then we'd love to entertain you for a bit," Dean replied.

She smiled, then opened the door a bit more so they could come in. After they had both crossed into the house, she closed and locked the door behind them as they gazed around and got a feel for the area. "Nice place," Dean commented appreciatively. And it was. The hallway they were standing in was wooded floor with two different rooms on either side and a staircase before them. The stairs themselves were covered with white carpet and a wooden banister ran the entire length of the steps. The ceiling was vaulted so that it reached to the top of the house, high above their heads, giving the whole place an airy feel.

"Thanks," she said. "It's my parents' house. I'm just crashing here for the weekend."

"You have another house?" Sam asked, finally joining the conversation.

"An apartment, actually, in Philly. I went to Temple for college and I really liked the city, so I stuck around."

"Nice."

Walking further into the house, they came into an eat-in kitchen with a large wooden table off to one side. The walls were painted a brighter yellow than the siding and all the equipment looked newly cleaned. An island, covered with all sorts of papers and other clutter, stood in the middle of the linoleum floor. Glancing over to the left, just past the fridge, was a family room painted a terracotta red. A flat-screen TV sat in a place of honor on the opposite wall from the couch, with a fireplace in the smaller wall between them. The whole place had a homey, lived-in feel to it that Dean and Sam immediately distrusted.

A delicious smell wafted from the black oven and a grin lit Dean's face. "Is that apple pie?"

"Yup," the woman proclaimed with a look of pride on her face. "Still baking, though, so you won't be able to have any for a little while yet."

"You make apple pie?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"Sure do. That is, if I don't burn it. I'm convinced that I somehow pissed off the oven and now it's being temperamental."

Inside, Dean was chuckling. Yup, still the same as when they were growing up. Outside, however, he merely cracked another grin. "Well, if you need a taster, I will volunteer myself for the cause," he replied with a mock-serious air.

Behind him, he could practically hear Sam rolling his eyes as the woman struggled to contain the smile attempting to spread across her face. "I'll keep that in mind," she said.

Sam cleared his throat. "So, Miss . . ." He trailed off.

"Alexa," she answered.

He nodded. "Alexa. How long have you and your parents lived here?"

She frowned and leaned back against the island, her brow furrowed in concentration. "I don't know," she replied. "I think I might have been about seven when we moved here. I don't really remember."

The brothers shot each other a quick look. "And how do you like it here?" Sam pressed.

A brief, indescribable expression flashed across her face only for a moment before it became blank again. She then shrugged. "It's alright," she said. "It's a good place to grow up - nice and quiet, safe. Nothing really happens here, unless you count a few gossips talking about what's going on at so-and-so's place and a bunch of rugrats running around on Halloween." She laughed a bit at her own joke but quickly stopped when all she got was a weak chuckle from Dean.

Sam was about to go on when Dean cleared his throat, shooting his brother a look. He got the hint and changed his tune. "Sorry, but do-do you think I could use your bathroom?" he asked as nonchalantly as possible.

Whether it was his brother's superb acting skills (Dean rolled his eyes mentally at the thought) or the subtle puppy-dog face he used, Alexa didn't seem to notice the awkward exchange between the brothers. She blinked a few times and offered a polite smile. "Uh, sure. Up the stairs, first door on the left."

Sam nodded. "Thanks." And with that, he walked with long, brisk strides towards the staircase, nudging his brother as he passed.

At last, it was just them alone, Dean and Alexa. For a while, neither of them spoke, simply sitting there in an awkward silence as Dean studied her. Apart from the color of her hair, she really hadn't changed much since he had last seen her. She even had the same silver bracelet that Dad had given her as a kid - Mom's bracelet, with all the funky charms and symbols hanging from the thin silver band. At last, she cleared her throat. "So, Mr. McDonnell, can I get you something to drink? There's coffee brewing, there's beer out in the other fridge, and there's water in that . . . jug . . . thingy." She ended with a vague pointing motion in the direction of the jug that sat on the counter.

Dean couldn't help but chuckle a little. "No thanks, I'm not that thirsty."

She nodded. "Right. Okay. That - that's good." There was another pause, this one shorter. "So, what made you and your brother decide to move out here? Don't take this the wrong way, but you two don't exactly seem like the, y'know, suburbia type."

"Ah, well, you know how persuasive little brothers can be," he said with a forced cocky tone. "As soon as he saw the house, he had to have it and wouldn't take no for an answer."

She laughed at that. "Yeah, tell me about it. This place . . . it's a nice area to grow up, but . . . I dunno, it's just too peaceful for my taste. That's why I love the city. There's always something going on." She looked like she was about to go on, but she stopped herself with a smile and a shake of her head. "I'm sorry, you're not here to listen to me babble about my life."

"Nah, don't worry about it. To tell you the truth, you actually remind me a lot of someone I used to know. She didn't like the quiet either. It always kinda put her on edge, you could say."

"Well, I think I know how she feels."

Another pause, then she reached for a mug that was sitting in the drying rack and went to pour herself a cup (presumably of coffee, but he wasn't quite sure) from a French press sitting on the stove top. However, it slipped from her hands and fell to the floor, shattering into a million pieces. "Shit!" she exclaimed, then bent down to try and clean up the mess.

"Here, let me help you with that," Dean offered, coming over and sweeping the shards into the palm of his hand.

"Thanks," she mumbled, not willing to look up at him.

As they continued to gather any pieces that they found into a pile, Dean glanced over and noticed that there was a necklace dangling from her neck, a necklace that looked incredibly familiar. The pendant was a five-point star surrounded by a circle, wrought in what looked to be pewter and hanging from a black silk cord. He almost gasped at the sight but thankfully caught himself in time. Even after almost twenty years, she still had that damn thing? He couldn't believe that she had kept it all this time. Straightening to his full height, he focused his gaze on her face in order to keep it from wandering to her chest where the pendant rested. "What do you want me to do with this?" he asked.

"Just give it to me, I'll have to glue it back together later." She sighed. "My mom's gonna kill me; that was her favorite mug."

"It was just an accident. I'm sure she'll understand."

"Let's hope so."

A sympathetic smile on his lips, he dumped the shards he had cleaned up off the floor into her hands. "That's a cool necklace, by the way," he commented.

She looked at him in surprise, then glanced down at her chest to see that the necklace had fallen out of her shirt. "Oh, thanks," she replied with a smile. "I have to keep it hidden from my parents. They think it's some Satanic thing and that I'll go to Hell if I wear it."

Dean couldn't help it - he actually chuckled. "Well, I can tell you right now that's a load of crap. It's called a pentagram and it's actually a symbol of protection against evil. Really powerful stuff. Whoever gave you that must have cared about you a lot."

Immediately her eyes were back on him again. "How do you know all that?" she asked, seeming suspicious.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I do a lot of reading."

As soon as he said it, he wished he had thought of a better excuse. One, he was starting to sound like Sam. Two, she didn't look like she was buying it. However, something about what he had said seemed to have triggered her because she became very pale and her hands started to shake, despite how she tried to hide it. She turned her back on him, grabbing the counter for support. Dean felt his heart speed up a little in his chest; was she remembering? He would have to risk it. They had already taken far too long to get to this point. Every second they wasted here made it more likely that the bastards who had kidnapped her would come back and find them. He wouldn't let that happen, not again, not to her.

Deciding to take the chance, he cleared his throat a little and steeled himself. "It's funny, though," he began. "I had this friend - well, she was more like my sister, actually - and she had a necklace exactly like that. And she loved it. Man, I never thought a kid like her could love something so much. But she did." He watched her carefully and saw that her body had stiffened. Taking that as a good sign, he plowed on with his story. "Y'know, it's gotta be something like nineteen years since I saw her last, but I can still remember the day I bought it for her. She was so happy I thought she was gonna bounce all the way to the moon. She also said something to me, something I can never forget. You wanna know what she said?" He paused. No answer from her. "Well, she said that it was -"

"- the greatest gift anyone had ever given me," she finished slowly, almost as if in a trance. Dean's heart nearly stopped as she turned to face him, blue eyes shining with tears. She remembered. She remembered him. "De?" she asked softly, not daring to go above a whisper.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. Damn it, he wasn't going to cry, he was not going to cry. "Hey, Lix."

Alex only hesitated for a moment before tackling him with a huge hug, almost knocking him over. He had forgotten how strong she was, especially when she was upset, but it didn't matter now. The important thing was that his little sister was safe and back in his arms, and she wasn't going to leave him again. He held her tightly against him as her shoulders shook from the force of her sobs, a few tears of his own slipping past his defenses. "Shh, shh," he soothed, rocking her back and forth. "It's okay. I've got you, Lix."

"Ni-nineteen y-y-years," she managed to stutter out. "I w-waited nine-teen y-years fo-r y-you. Y-you n-n-never came b-back for me-e."

"I know. I know, and I am so, so sorry." And he was. He was sorry for every single damn day she had spent trapped in here, away from them. Away from him.

She pulled back and looked him in the eye, angrily wiping away her tears. "Why didn't you come looking for me?" she demanded.

Stopping her furious motions, he gently brushed away the remaining droplets she had missed before. "I didn't know you were alive," he admitted. "When Dad came back from the hospital . . ." He swallowed hard and turned his gaze downward, unable to face her any longer. ". . . He told us that . . . that you were dead . . . that they hadn't been able to save you . . ." He cleared his throat and looked back up at her. "I swear, if I had known you were alive, I wouldn't have stopped searching until I found you and gotten you away from here."

She gave him a thin smile and hugged him again tightly. "Hey, it's not your fault," she reassured him. "I'm just glad I have my big brother back. I missed you."

"I missed you too, Lix," he whispered back, his voice breaking from his tears. "So much."

"Ahem."

Both of them whipped around to find Sam standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said with a raised eyebrow.

"Ah, shut up, Sammy," Dean retorted, regaining his earlier cocky attitude.

Alex's eyes widened. "Nuh-uh," she breathed. "No way that's my little Sammy."

Sam flushed a deep red at the sound of his nickname. "Actually, it's just Sam," he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

She laughed incredulously before dashing over to him and tackling him with a hug. He, too, staggered backwards from the force of impact. Dean couldn't help but chuckle as he watched his giant of a little brother glance around uncomfortably. "Alright, Lix," he said with a chuckle, realizing that he was going to have to bail his brother out of this one, "let him breathe. He's still getting used to the idea of having a big sister."

She froze at that and released him slowly, turning back to face Dean. "What do you mean, getting used to it?" she asked incredulously. "He remembers me, doesn't he?" She glanced back at Sam, who gave her an almost guilty look. "You do remember me, don't you, Sam?"

He sighed. "I'm sorry, but I don't."

Her face fell at that. "But – but you were four when it happened . . . when I left . . . You were old enough to remember . . ."

Dean released a long breath and put his hand on her shoulder. "Lix, even if he does, it's going to take a while. Dad . . . well, it was even worse than losing Mom. He tried to make us forget that you had even existed because it was too much for him to bear. First Mom, then you . . . it tore him apart, Lix. It tore all of us apart."

Her expression became blank so fast that it scared him, much more than any creature he hunted ever would. It was an expression that said she had lost all faith in Dad, maybe even in him. After a few moments, though, she sighed and her face cleared again. "So, why now?" she asked. "If you thought I was dead, what made you come looking for me now? And how did you know where to find me?"

Sam and Dean glanced at each other, coming to a silent decision before they turned back to their long-lost sister. "Actually, we're still not quite sure how we found you," Dean replied. "But someone knew you were alive and sent us to find you. And . . . we need your help."

She looked at them incredulously. "My help?"

"Dad, well, he's gone missing."

There was that blank expression again. "So he's just gotten a little too involved in whatever case he's gone on. He'll turn up eventually, just like always."

"I thought the same thing when Dean found me," Sam admitted. "But we checked the last gig he worked - a Woman in White down near Jericho, California - he didn't even finish the job."

"We also found this," Dean added, pulling out a familiar weather-beaten object from the inside of his jacket. Alex's eyes widened in recognition.

"Is that . . . ?" she asked.

"Yeah, Dad's journal," Dean affirmed.

"He never lets that thing out of his sight," she said, looking suspicious.

"Exactly. Which is why we need your help. We think he's in real trouble and we need to find him."

"Look," Sam jumped in, "I can completely understand if you don't want to help us. But someone went to the trouble of giving us your exact location. That's gotta be pretty significant, right?"

"Please, Lix," Dean took over again. "We can't do this without you."

Her eyes gazed at the floor for a few moments as she seemed to consider what they were saying, then looked back up at them. Dean didn't like what he saw. Instead of the warm, happy expression that used to always be there, he only saw a blank stare, a cold and empty void. "No," she said, her voice soft but defiant.

He stared at her in disbelief. "No?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't help you."

There was a brief pause. Dean couldn't bring himself to answer her, so Sam answered for him. "But . . . but we came all this way to find you -"

"I already gave you my answer," she replied, her voice louder and harder this time. Her eyes focused on the boys for a few seconds, then dropped back to the floor as she began to turn away from them. "I think you should leave."

Something inside Dean snapped as she started to walk away from them, and within a few seconds his hand had darted out and grabbed her by her wrist. She stopped in her tracks, refusing to look at him. "Let go of me," she growled, her voice low and threatening, completely unlike how she had spoken before.

"No," Dean said simply.

Impatiently she tried to tug her hand free, but this time Dean's desperation overpowered Alex's natural strength. "I said let go, dammit!" she shouted at him.

"And I'm telling you no," he replied with just as much heat. "I just got you back, Alex. There's no way in hell I'm letting you go again."

At last she looked back at him, her eyes finally showing feeling. And that feeling was anger. "Oh really? Now you go all protective big brother?" she asked, her voice sarcastic. "Where were you when I needed this eighteen years ago? Where was Dad? He left me, Dean! Do you have any idea what that's like, to be left behind like that?! Why the hell should I help him when he didn't even try to find me?!"

"Because we're family!" Dean shot back. "And don't you dare say that about Dad! You didn't see him in the aftermath, losing you destroyed him!"

"Both of you, shut up!" Sam yelled. The two older siblings paused in their argument to glare at Sam. "Alex, I know you feel like Dad abandoned you - I get that, totally understand that feeling - and you have every right to feel like that. So if you don't want to get involved because you have a problem with Dad, then fine. Don't do it for him. Do it for us, the ones who actually came and found you. Dean's right: we're family, and now that we've all found each other again, we need to stick together."

There was a heavy silence as Sam's words sank in until Dean spoke up again. "Lix, please," he begged her. "I'm sorry it took so long to find you, I really am. But if you want me to start making it up to you like I should, then I'm going to need you to start by trusting me and helping us." He looked at her imploringly. "We really can't do this without you."

"Bullshit," she retorted. "You've been doing fine before you figured out I was alive. You can find Dad by yourselves."

"Yeah, well, I don't want to," Dean admitted.

Alex paused for another few moments, weighing her options. After what seemed like an eternity, something in her features changed again and she stopped fighting. "Alright," she relented. "You win. I'll help you find Dad. But I am not getting back into that business again."

"Fine," Dean ground out. He didn't want to fight her anymore, not after she'd agreed to help them. "As soon as we find Dad, you can go right back to your apple-pie life and we won't bother you again."

"Fine!" Alex replied, then paused. "Now would you please let go of my wrist?"

Dean blinked and realized that he was still holding his sister's wrist in a vice grip. Releasing it, he cleared his throat as Alex rubbed it. "Thanks," she mumbled. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

"Where are you going?" Sam asked as she made her way towards the staircase.

"To pack," was her reply. "If I'm coming along on this crazy goose chase, then I'm going to need some things." And without another word she was walking up the stairs, away from them.

There was a moment of silence as both brothers gazed at the place where she had been. Dean blew out a huge breath and Sam swallowed hard. "Well . . ." he began, not really sure what to say. ". . . Could've been worse."

"Yeah, but it sure could've been a hell of a lot better," Dean said.

"Still, she agreed to help us. We got all the Winchester kids back together again, mission accomplished."

"Except she's not staying. As soon as we get Dad back, she takes off again."

Sam glanced over at his brother. To anyone else, Dean's expression would be completely unreadable, given how he was simply staring at where she had disappeared. However, Sam knew his brother well enough to see that behind those blank green eyes there sat a lot of pain. He swallowed hard, trying to think of something encouraging to say and coming up with nothing. Instead, he mumbled something along the lines of "we'll figure something out" and suggested Dean get the car started. The McCabes would be back soon and the longer they stayed, the more uneasy Sam felt. Dean must have felt the same way (or else he just REALLY wanted to avoid any form of communication) because he went without a remark.

Not even two minutes after he had gone back to the car Alex jogged back down the stairs, a duffel bag and a drawstring pouch slung over one shoulder. She now had a weather-beaten leather jacket on over top of a dark gray sweatshirt. "Where's Dean?" she asked, glancing around.

"Getting the car started," Sam answered, still slightly uncomfortable.

She nodded. "Good." A few moments passed in silence. "We should get going, wouldn't want to make Princess Deanna wait." She then proceeded to march out the door, leaving Sam to trail along behind her.

Sam had to physically bite his lip to hold back his chuckle. Ouch. He realized that tensions were still high between his two older siblings, but damn that was a good insult. It might even be worth the extra time he would have to listen to them argue. As he walked outside and watched Dean and Alex awkwardly interact with each other, he was surprised to find that he felt . . . less alone, somehow. It was as if part of a hole he didn't even realize he had was somehow filled just by having his sister back. He reflected on that thought. Sister . . . Come to think of it, he'd always wanted a sister growing up. Now he would get to see first-hand what having one would be like.

Sam climbed into the car in his usual seat in the front passenger side and looked back in the rearview mirror. Alex was gazing out the window, looking back at her house. He wondered what she was thinking about. Was she angry at Dean for ripping her away from her life after all this time? Was she sad that she was leaving her family behind? Nostalgic from all the times she had probably spent in this very car? Sam didn't know, but he did know one thing: having Alex along was going to make things interesting.