Disclaimer: Once again, I really don't own Supernatural, i only wish i did.
I got up the morning after Christmas at about nine-thirty, to pack my bags for San Antonio. Oliver and I had made plans the previous day to leave at approximately eleven or so, and I still had a lot to do before then. I got dressed in jeans and a Led Zeppelin tee, and started rushing around my room, trying to shove clothes and personal items into backpacks and duffel bags. Dad came in an hour later, somewhat half asleep. He must've heard my radio, although I tried to keep the volume down as low as possible.
"Need any help?" Dad asked, watching as I folded up a pair of jeans on my bed. I had clothes and stuff spread everywhere, making my room an even bigger mess than it already was.
"Not right now, but thanks anyway," I replied, placing the jeans into one of my bags. However, Dad stayed in the room, even though I declined his offer. He approached my dresser, stepping over piles of junk on the floor. He paused, picking up a picture frame with a photo of the three of us in it. Dad considered it for a moment, then put it gently back. I knew he wasn't taking this too well. Me leaving, I mean. He was clearly concerned. Why shouldn't he be, though? As a father, he had every right to be worried. "I'll be all right, Dad. Really." I reassured him.
"I know, kiddo." He muttered, taking a seat on the edge of my bed, running a hand through his hair. I stopped what I was doing and sat down next to him.
"Believe me, with all the training you and Sam put me through over the years, I can handle anything." I smiled. Dad returned it, but only slightly.
"Almost anything," he corrected me. "Everything but the Demon."
Okay, so he had a point there.
"You've taught me the signs," I replied. "To know when it's coming, so I'm prepared."
"But the thought of you being out there when that thing is roaming around…" He said, a hint of anger in his voice. "I can't loose you."
"You won't," I said firmly, grabbing one of his strong hands with mine. "I'll be fine, Dad. I'll call, to let you know I'm safe. I have to do this. Whatever's in Texas…it's important. It may be the key to ending all of this, for good."
"Promise me you won't go sacrificing your life or anything to get rid of this demon." Dad demanded seriously.
"Why would I do a thing like that?" I asked, in a sort of teasing way.
"That idea seems to run in the family." Dad said.
"Alyx, Oliver's here." Sammy informed me, poking his head into the doorway.
"Thanks, Sammy. I'll be down in a minute." I said. He left, and Dad picked up my backpack and messenger bag, while I zipped up the duffel bag and took it with me. We went downstairs to the living room where Oliver was patiently waiting. I greeted him with a kiss, adjusting the duffel bag on my shoulder.
"All set?" he asked. I nodded, and turned to my dad and uncle.
"I guess this is it," I sighed. "Bye, Sammy." I gave him a tight hug, not really wanting to let go.
"Be careful, Ally." He told me.
"I will." I answered, as we broke apart. Dad pulled me to him, and we embraced for almost a full minute. I knew it would be the last time I saw either of them for awhile. Who knew when we'd meet up again? This wasn't like when I ran away to Missouri's. Then, I could go home whenever I wanted. This time, I had to stay on the road and do whatever needed to be done. Alone. Without their help—well, for some part of the journey, at least. That's when it dawned on me: this was technically my first hunt alone.
"Good luck, Alyx," Dad said. "See you soon."
Hopefully.
"Bye, Dad." I said, letting go of him.
"Take care of my daughter, you hear me?" Dad told Oliver.
"Yes, sir." Oliver replied.
"If anything happens to her, your ass is mine."
Oh, man. The look on Oliver's face after my dad said that was priceless.
Dad did something I never expected he would. He smirked at Oliver, and clapped him on the back. Seeing such a friendly gesture from my father toward my boyfriend made me smile. He and Oliver shook hands, and after saying a last goodbye, we left the house and put my stuff in the trunk of Oliver's car. We were taking his car because my dad did not want me to use my Impala as a hunting car. I actually agreed with him on that one, because who knew what we'd be up against on the road? I wouldn't be a happy camper—and Dad would be furious—if my precious, midnight blue beauty was wrecked, stolen, filled with bullet holes, or blown up. You know, if that ever happened. I hope Oliver's car had some heavy-duty insurance coverage…
We got into the car, and drove off with Dad and Sam watching from the porch.
"How long will it take to get there?" I asked.
"About a day or so."
"Cool." I dug into my messenger bag that I chose to keep with me in the front seat, and whipped out a mixed CD with plenty of mullet rock on it. Luckily, Oliver and I were into the same music, so there wouldn't be a fight over what we listened to.
Unlike some road trips…
I was used to spending long hours in the car, so I passed the time by reading books, listening to music, staring out the window, and talking to Oliver. We each took turns driving and sleeping in shifts so we wouldn't have to stop that much. We only made a few pit stops for food, bathroom breaks, and to fill up the car on gas. All in all, it took about two days to get to San Antonio, just as Oliver had predicted.
We stopped for the night at a crappy, but affordable motel. Grabbing our bags from the car, we went to the front office to rent out a room. An extremely bored looking girl in her early twenties sat behind the desk, chewing a piece of gum loudly and flipping through an issue of People. It was after Oliver cleared his throat that she looked up.
"What'd ya want?" she asked, staring at us, annoyed—as if we'd interrupted something important.
"One room, with two beds, please." I specified.
"Yeah," the girl laughed slightly, "Right." I rolled my eyes and slid one of my fake credit cards across the counter. The girl put the card through the machine and handed it back to me, along with the key to our room. We picked up our bags and left.
"People sometimes," I muttered as we made our way to our room. "She automatically thought that just because we're teenagers and we got a motel room that we planned on sleeping together." Oliver put his arms around my waist, standing behind me. I slid the key into the door and pushed it open, shifting the duffel bag on my shoulder. The motel room was hideous. And let me tell you, I've seen enough ugly motel rooms to last me a lifetime. It was like a total time warp, for crying out loud. There was an ugly, puke-green carpet covering the floor, and the walls were brown; part of it was this nasty wood paneling. There was one, king sized bed—when I'd specifically asked for two beds—with a disgusting mustard yellow and orange floral comforter.
In the kitchenette area, the table and chairs were orange and brown, and the small counter was covered in some type of patterned contact paper. I swear the only modern technological advances in the room were the television and coffee maker. I was that bad.
"Bitchin'." Oliver said sarcastically, shutting the door. I rolled my eyes and threw my duffel bag and backpack onto the bed. Oliver set his things at the foot of the bed and kicked off his shoes and socks. I sat on the edge of the bed, digging through my belongings for pajamas while watching Oliver pull off his T-shirt.
Man, did he have some killer abs…holy crap. You could practically do laundry on those babies. Damn. He had nice biceps, too, I must say. He caught me checking him out and smirked. I, however, turned a shade of pink, slightly embarrassed, and continued searching for my clothes. I found a white tanktop and lime green and turquoise striped pajama boxers and retreated to the bathroom, which was almost as disturbing as the rest of the room. It had Pepto Bismol pink tiles on the walls and linoleum floor with a white, fluffy throw rug.
Eww.
I took a fast shower, changed, and exited the bathroom, drying my hair. I sat on the edge of the bed again, noticing that Oliver was lying comfortably on the bed, shirtless, flipping through the channels on the television. Not that I really minded him being shirtless, that is. I finished drying my hair and tossed the towel back into the bathroom. I slid into bed next to him, and we watched whatever crap was on TV at that unearthly hour.
I must've fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, I was sitting up in bed in a cold sweat as the clock hit 5:45 in the morning. I ran a hand through my damp hair, and glanced to my left to see that my boyfriend wasn't sleeping beside me. I looked over to the right, to see him standing beside the bed, holding a switchblade in his hand. His eyes were black with a hint of yellow, like they had been on the day of the exorcism.
Oliver tackled me onto the bed before I had any time to react. Using all of my strength, I shove him off me and climbed off the bed. He then threw me against the closed bathroom door, using his telekinesis. I rolled onto my back, and Oliver suddenly pounced on me, holding the blade close to my throat. Struggling under his weight, I looked him straight in the eye, and tried to get him to snap out of it.
"Oliver, stop," I said quite calmly. "Stop. This isn't you." I then managed to pin him down to the floor, using a tight grip on his wrists, and my knees to keep his legs in place. He thrashed a bit, groaning in anger, but I continued to hold him there. Finally, he stopped moving and stared at me. His eyes were still their eerie color; I tried to ignore the hate clearly evident in them, and coax him back to his normal self. "Oliver, it's me. It's Alyx." I told him softly.
"Alyx?" he asked in a scared tone, as his eyes returned to their original color. He looked like a frightened child. He let go of the switchblade that was in his grip, letting it drop to the floor, and I loosened my hold. I knelt beside him, and he sat up. He looked at me, then took my face in his hands, stroking my cheek with his thumb. "Alyx, I'm so sorry…" I wrapped him in a hug, resting my chin on his shoulder. "I don't know what happened." He whispered. "I think I blacked out. Did I hurt you?"
"No…no, I'm fine," I reassured him, rubbing his back soothingly. "It's okay."
"No, it's not. What if I end up killing you one of these times?"
"You can't. I'm a Healer, remember? I can't die as easily as…normal people."
"You don't know that for sure, Alyx," he said sadly. "Lately, I've been having bad dreams…where my father tells me to do horrible things…and these blackouts are only going to get worse. I had no control over what I was doing just now. It's getting harder and harder for me to fight it. I just don't want anything to happen to you, that's all." Tears were welling up in my eyes, but I didn't let them fall. What if I didn't save him? That would mean I had failed, and failure was not an option for me.
We were suddenly interrupted by a knock on the motel room door. Oliver and I shared a panicked glance, fearing it could be anyone, either and enemy or an ally. Just in case, I grabbed a pistol I had hidden in my things, and we both walked over to the door cautiously. I wrenched the door open to see a taller boy, maybe about eighteen, with shaggy, dirty blonde hair and sky blue eyes. His clothes were worn out and filthy; he kind of looked like a homeless person. Standing to his right was another boy with spiky, dark brown hair and hazel eyes. Behind them were two girls. One had long, red hair and brown eyes, and the other had brown hair with bright, purple streaks and green eyes.
"Can I help you?" I asked hesitantly.
"You won't be needing that," the boy said, referring to the pistol. "You're Alyx Winchester, I'm guessing?"
"Yeah," I said, suspicious at their presence. "How did you kn—"
"Let's just say we've been waiting quite awhile to meet you."