Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, or any of the plot of the season finale that I'm using to fit into the story. (Contains season finale spoilers!)
We pulled into the driveway, parked, and Oliver got out. I stayed where I was, until he came around, wrenched open the back door, and dragged me out by the collar of my leather jacket. I ripped myself away from him, but he seized my wrists, holding them in a grip of iron. I tried to get away, but he only grabbed tighter, making the coarse rope cut into my skin further. He pushed me up onto the porch, kicked open the door, and dragged me inside the house.
As we walked through the house, I saw that there wasn't anything in it, except for a few broken pieces of furniture and tons of spider webs. The wallpaper and paint covering the walls was aged and chipping. The place smelled strongly of mildew and decay. I wouldn't be surprised if someone had died in the house—that was probably one of the causes of the combination of disgusting smells.
Oliver led me over to the basement door, which was slightly ajar. He threw it open, and shoved me forward. I tumbled all the way down the stairs, receiving bruises and a gash on my leg where I had scraped against a nail sticking out of the wood. I lay in a crumpled heap on the damp floor, listening to the old wood creaking under Oliver's weight as he descended downward.
"Get up." he ordered, kicking me. I forced myself to sit up, knowing that wasn't what he had meant. However, I didn't want to stand up yet after the nasty fall I had just taken. Oliver, seeing my defiance, bent down and slapped me across the face, giving me a bloody lip. "I said get up!" he yelled, pulling me roughly to my feet. Oliver grabbed my arm, dragged me to the center of the room, and threw me onto the floor again. I watched as he walked over to the table with the lit candles and took the Colt from the pocket of his jacket, placing it there. He ambled back over to me and started pacing back and forth.
"We could have it all, Alyx," he declared, persistent to get me to join him and his father in their world-dominating crusade. "Think about it. Your life with us would be so much better than the one you have with those hunters. Besides, hunters will cease to exist in the near future…as long as this war progresses." That's why we're going to stop the Demon…I like my supernatural-hunting family, thank you very much. "We could get married, Alyx. Raise a few kids…"
"Yeah, maybe when I get my real boyfriend back." I retorted.
"What are you talking about? I'm right here." He said, gesturing to himself.
"No. This isn't you…this isn't the Oliver I fell in love with," I stated, pulling the silver band he had given me off my finger, and holding it up. "You told me not to forget that you cared about me no matter what happened, and I'm keeping that promise. I just have to make you see that this isn't the path you want to take."
"That ring didn't mean anything." Oliver replied, suddenly acting like he didn't care about me anymore, when a minute ago he suggested that we could get married.
"Yes, it did. You know it did. You're just too blinded by this whole idea of power that you don't remember what you said to me," I answered. "'Amor Vincit Omnia', Oliver. If you love me, then you'll fight this. I know you can."
"It's too late, Alyx. I've made up my mind."
"It doesn't have to be this way." I told him, suddenly hearing the distinct sound of the front door opening upstairs. It couldn't be the Demon, right? I mean, he doesn't exactly have to use doors…
Speaking of the Demon, I had to get out of this place before he decided to grace us with his presence. I had to escape. I made a quick choice—I knew I'd be able to get out by using my power on Oliver. He was still half-mortal, and therefore could be wounded.
Oliver had stopped pacing, and was now staring at me with his arms folded over his chest. I had to act now. I didn't know how well it would work, since I had only given someone a bloody nose. But I needed to give Oliver a wound that would slow him down so I could hightail it out of there before yellow eyes showed up. So, I opted to give him a deep gash on his leg.
"I'm sorry, Oliver." I muttered. He looked at me, confused. I concentrated, focusing all of my energy, willing my power to work to my advantage. I knew I'd succeeded when blood started to seep through Oliver's jeans, just below his knee. He winced and looked down at the fresh injury, surprised. He glanced at me, his jaw almost dropping to the floor out of shock. Before he could even come at me, I picked myself up off the floor, and ran up the stairs. The gash on my leg and my bloody lip had healed, but the bruises remained, so I was still sore.
I maneuvered through the house quickly, keeping my eyes peeled for the Demon, and trying to walk with my wrists bound in front of me. (Which is more difficult than you think.) I guess I wasn't paying too much attention—I was focused on escaping—because I collided with someone. For a fleeting moment, I thought it was either Oliver or the Demon…then I would be done for. However, when I looked up, I was totally relieved.
Dad was standing in front of me, with Sam standing behind him. They had come to my rescue, like many times before.
"Dad," I said, somewhat surprised to see them. "Sam." Dad seized my shoulders and examined me from head to toe, making sure I wasn't hurt too badly. Thankfully, most of my injuries had healed.
"You okay, kiddo?" Dad asked. I nodded, and he wrapped me in a tight hug.
"You have no idea how happy I am to see the two of you." I stated, as Dad let go of me.
"I think we have some idea," Dad answered. "C'mon, we gotta get our asses out of here."
Sam hooked his arm around my shoulders and guided me out of the house, with Dad following. Once we exited the house and I caught sight of the familiar black Impala, I grinned. I never thought I'd be so excited to see the thing. I crawled into the backseat, Sam got into the passenger's side, and Dad was obviously going to drive. When we got onto the main road, Sam took out his pocketknife and cut the rope that tied my hands together.
"How did you guys find me?" I asked, rubbing my sore wrists.
"We, uh, saw your car chase all over the TV," Sam replied. "So we left for San Antonio."
"Then Sam had a vision that Oliver kidnapped you," Dad finished. "How the hell did you get involved in a car chase?"
I sighed, and began to explain everything to them. Aidan's plan to get the Colt, how we got caught and the pack of demons went after us, getting arrested, being questioned by Hendrickson—Dad wasn't too happy about that—and escaping from jail with everyone's help, including Bruce, the Hell's Angel/hunter. Then, I told them how Oliver knocked me out and kidnapped me, and how I used my power to escape from him.
"But I left the Colt there," I said, disappointed. I had gone through a lot to get it, and now the Demon's son had it in his possession. "I didn't have time to grab it before I escaped."
"That doesn't matter," Dad said. This statement caught me off guard. "All that matters is that you're safe, and here with us. We were worried sick about you."
We were about ten miles away from the abandoned house when Dad's cell phone rang. He picked it up, still keeping his eyes on the road. Sam and I listened as he gave a few responses that made me think the news wasn't good. Dad snapped his phone shut, cursing.
"That was Bobby. The Roadhouse was burned to the ground," Dad informed us. "Ash and some other hunters were killed." I bit my lip, trying not to let the tears come. Ash, although I had not seen him in well over two years, was always like an uncle to me. It upset me that the Demon had to take him as well.
"What about Ellen?" I asked. I never called her 'grandma' because she told me once that it made her feel too old. I hadn't seen her in over two years also, so I hoped she was all right.
"Bobby's not sure where she is," Dad said. "But she wasn't there at the time of the fire."
This war was just getting worse.