Okay, so...my next offering.

I don't own anything that you recognize from the actual show.

Enjoy :)

Red Sky at Morning
Part One

It had been three days since I'd said good-bye to Dean and things were strained, but not between me and Dean. It was more between me and Sam. I didn't know why; I hadn't done anything to him. Maybe it was because I'd flat out refused to do anything to save Dean unless it was guaranteed to not hurt Sam in the process.

Things between me and Dean, however, were…awkward sometimes, but they were okay. Not great, but okay. Things didn't change too much because, above all things…we were friends. That's how the relationship had started and even after everything…we could still be friends. We still loved each other, were still in love with each other, but we couldn't have that anymore, so I settled for the next best thing.

Friendship. It was easy to be friends after I'd stopped hanging on so tight. It was almost easier than actually being with him. Easier, not better. I admitted it being easier to not be with him had a lot to do with how I was acting. I was me -me and not the bratty version of me that had been rearing its ugly head since Dean had made the deal.

We were still in New York because we hadn't found another job; we had no reason to go anywhere. I spent most of my time with Sam and Dean - that hadn't changed - but I did sleep in my own room. I didn't really like it, so I kept the TV or the radio on at night, sometimes even a light. It was a false sense of security, but I couldn't have my real security, so…I would just have to make due.

I had taken to going to sleep with a gun under my pillow just in case I needed it for some reason. I took all the usual precautions, of course…salt at the doors and windows, things like that, but one could never be too careful.

One day while Sam was out and I was with Dean, Dean surprised me by asking about the Colt. He wanted to know if I'd used it recently.

"I've never fired the thing," I said. "Why?"

"There's a bullet missing."

I shrugged. "Well, it wasn't me."

"Then it was Sam." Dean shook his head. "Damn it."

"You think he -"

"Went after the crossroads demon, yeah."

That wasn't hard to figure out; Sam had been talking about doing that since we'd fixed the Colt. Well…since Bobby had fixed the Colt.

"Did you know he was going to?" Dean asked and I shook my head instantly.

"No. I mean, I knew he'd thought about it, but no. I-I would've stopped him had I known. Or I would've come to you."

I wanted Dean to stay alive more than anything in the world, but there were some things I just wouldn't do to get that. Risking Sam was one of them.

"Hey, um…could you not tell him we talked about this?" Dean asked. "I wanna see if he'll tell me himself."

"You want me to lie to him?" Dean knew that he and Sam both could always tell when I was lying.

"No. Just don't bring it up. Ya know?"

I shrugged uncertainly. "Sure. Just, um… You know, why don't you just ask him?" That would have been the easy thing to do.

"Because I want to see if he'll tell me before I mention it."

"Why? I mean, obviously it didn't work or he would've mentioned it already. He wouldn't have kept that from you."

"Yeah, well, still. It's the principle of the thing. I specifically told him not to -"

"You know how well he follows orders, Dean. Sam will do the exact opposite of what you tell him to do, simply because you told him to do it."

"Yeah, well…" Dean shrugged, knowing I was right. "Still wrong that he didn't tell me."

When Sam got back with a six pack I left the room and went to my own. I'd dealt with a drinking Sam before and I hadn't liked what I'd heard, so best to just leave that one alone for now. That wasn't the only reason I'd left; my phone had been vibrating and when I looked I saw it was Bobby.

"Yeah?" Something I'd picked up from Sam and Dean. Instead of saying 'hello' like a normal person, I just said 'yeah.'

"Are you okay?"

"Um…okay, random. Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Sam said you left." His tone was cautious.

"Yeah. I left, but I didn't leave. Ya know?" And he wouldn't just call to be calling, right? "So, what is it?"

"How's Dean taking it?"

"The way Dean always takes things. He acts like it doesn't bother him when it really bugs the hell out of it."

"Hm."

"Yeah. So…did you really call to check up on us or is there something else?"

Bobby waited a beat and then answered. "I'm doing a favor for a friend, a guy named William Connors. He wanted me to check something out. It's probably nothing."

"You wouldn't have called if it was nothing," I pointed out.

"Well, it's nothing so far."

"Oh." Okay, well then, maybe it was nothing. "You said somebody asked you to check it out. Check what out?"

"Some kind of artifact."

"Is it cursed?"

"I don't know. I don't really know what I'm looking for."

"Um…okay. How are you supposed to -"

"He said I'd know it when I see it. He said to expect thieves. Demonic ones. Apparently they want this thing for something."

"Awesome. That's just…awesome," I said. "Note to self and Bobby: Things that demons want are usually not conducive to the welfare of the rest of the world."

"Yeah. Reason I took this job. I'm at a shipping yard right now, scoping the place out. Will's been tracking this thing for a while now. It never stays in one place for too long. Last place it was…Japan, I think…the demons wanted it then too. Lots of innocent people were killed because of it."

"So the demons are serious about it then." Great. Determined demons and a land full of oblivious humans. That was…annoying.

Then suddenly… "I've gotta go," came from Bobby's end.

"Well, wait, what's going on?"

"I'll call you back."

"Yeah, you better," I said quickly before hanging up. If he didn't call back by the time an hour was up I'd tell Sam and Dean about what Bobby was up to. And what was he up to, anyway?

He'd sounded strange on the phone and he'd had to go quickly. And he'd never really said where he was either, just that he was at a shipping yard. There were probably millions of them in America alone. Maybe that was an exaggeration, but still…

I didn't have to worry too much or too long because Bobby called back within twenty minutes. He wasn't very happy with the way things had gone down, apparently, because he sounded frustrated.

"So, I take it whatever you wanted wasn't there?"

"No, it probably was, but like Will said…demons want it too. There was a fight. I did an exorcism, but there were alarms the demons set off and cops showed up."

"Ah…sucks for you." I began fidgetting. "Um…you're not using your one phone call to call me, are you?"

"Don't ya think I might've mentioned that fact, ya idjit?" Okay, so he was still fond of me. "I didn't get caught."

"Good to know."

"Yeah, well, I was only callin' back because I said I would." Good ol' reliable Bobby.

"Well, thanks," I said, and then I heard a resounding click. "Good-bye to you too."

We were finally leaving New York; we had a case to work on the eastern seaboard. Some chick had drowned in the shower. How the hell that had happened was beyond me. That's what we were going to find out.

We were speeding toward our destination. Dean was behind the wheel, so…of course we were speeding.

"So, I've been waiting since Maple Springs," Dean said. "You got somethin' to tell me?" He looked at Sam to let him know he was talking to him.

"It's not your birthday," Sam said hesitantly.

"No."

I could practically feel Sam's brain working backwards trying to figure out if he'd forgotten something.

"Happy Purim? Dude, I don't know. I have no idea what you're talkin' about."

"There's a bullet missing from the Colt," Dean said angrily. "Wanna tell me how that happened?" No answer. "I know it wasn't me, so unless you've been shooting at some incredibly evil cans…"

"Dean…"

"You went after her, didn't you? The crossroads demon, even after I told you not to."

"Yeah, well." Sam didn't sound apologetic at all, and I didn't blame him. He wanted to save Dean and I wasn't going to fault him for that.

"You could've gotten yourself killed!" Dean yelled.

"But I didn't." Sam sounded like he didn't want to argue. He sounded tired, actually.

"And you shot her?"

"She was a smartass!"

"So, what? Does that - does that mean I'm out of my deal?" Dean asked.

"Don't you think I might've mentioned that little fact, Dean?" Sam asked. "No. Someone else holds the contract."

"Who?" Dean and I asked in unison. Because that fact there was an interesting one to know.

"She wouldn't say," Sam answered quietly.

"Well, we should find out who. Of course, our best lead would be the crossroads demon. Oh, wait a minute…"

"That's not funny."

"No, it's not! It was a stupid friggin' risk and you shouldn't have done it."

"I shouldn't have done it?" Now Sam wanted to argue. "You're my brother, Dean, and no matter what you do I'm gonna try and save you. And I'm sure as hell not gonna apologize for it, all right?"

Dean didn't say anything after that. The rest of the ride was spent in tense silence. Sam wouldn't look at Dean; Dean wouldn't look at Sam.

I rolled my eyes. They were worse than a bunch of girls having a cat fight.

When we reached wherever we were going - I didn't even know where the hell we were - Sam and Dean got a room and I got my own like I'd said I would. I couldn't go back on that now. Even though I hated sleeping alone.

Granted, I only used the room at night because I still spent the majority of my time with my guys.

I had a routine now. I would go in the room and make sure everything was good to go - the salt lines and all the other precautions I took. Then I would go to Sam and Dean's room and stay with them until I was ready to go to bed.

As it was, I wouldn't be going to bed for a while because we were going to talk to the aunt of the girl who had died. They had lived together. They had lived in the extremely expensive part of wherever we were. There were houses with different wings here. The kind of houses where, nine times out of ten, people didn't really know the others they were living with because they had enough room in the house to never see one another.

The girl who had drowned, her name was Sheila. Sheila Case; her aunt had the same last name.

The aunt was one of those crazy old lady's that I couldn't help but like. I couldn't help but want to laugh either. She, uh…had a thing for Sam. She was practically undressing him with her eyes. It made Sam very uncomfortable. Dean, however, seemed to be getting a kick out of it.

"You were the one who found your niece, correct?" Sam asked.

"I came home, she was in the shower."

"Drowned?"

"So the coroner says," Ms. Case said in disbelief. "Now, you tell me, how can someone drown in a shower?"

Good question, that.

"How would you describe Sheila's behavior the days before her death?" Sam asked. "I mean, did she seem frightened? Maybe she said something out of the ordinary?"

Ms. Case seemed to have a revelation. "Wait a minute. You're working with Alex, aren't you?"

We had no idea who Alex was, of course, but if it would make the lady open up more…

"Yep," Dean said, not missing a beat. "Absolutely. That's…Alex and us, we're like this." He held up his hand and crossed his fingers. Hm, for someone we didn't know, we had a tight bond.

"Why didn't you say so? Alex has been such a comfort." She sat down, but continued looking at Sam. "But I'm sorry; I thought the case was solved."

"Uh, well, no. No, not yet."

"I see."

"So, anyways, we were talking about your niece," Sam said, trying to get us back on track.

"Well, yes. Sheila mentioned something quite strange before she died. She said she saw a boat."

"A boat?" Dean asked.

A boat? What was so strange about a boat. We were on the eastern seaboard. I was sure we were in Massachusetts or near there anyway.

"Yes, one minute it was there, then it was gone. It just disappeared right before her eyes."

Oh, a vanishing boat. That was strange.

"You think it could be a…ghost ship?"

Were we actually supposed to answer that?

"Alex thinks it could be a ghost ship."

"Well, um…" Sam huffed. "Could be."

Sam glanced at Dean apologetically. We usually didn't tell people things like that, but, hey, the lady had said it.

"Well…" Ms. Case smiled at Sam and looked like she was undressing him with her eyes again. Little old pervert. "You let me know if there's anything else I can do for you." She leaned forward to stroke Sam's fingers and took his hand in hers. "Anything at all."

Oh, God. This seventy-year-old lady was totally putting the moves on Sam. I had to bite my tongue hard enough to draw blood just so I wouldn't laugh.

Sam found a way to excuse himself so we left. Dean had parked the car at the marina, which was about a mile away, so we started walking.

It was bright and sunny out, but it was still chilly and I didn't have a jacket so I improvised. I walked between my guys because they were huge and warm and could shelter me from the cold.

"What a crazy old broad, huh?" Dean teased.

"Why? Because she believes in ghosts?"

Dean laughed a genuine laugh and just like any other time he laughed - really laughed - I could feel it inside like it was coming from me instead of him. His laughter made me happy. Even if we weren't together-together.

"Look at you stickin' up for your girlfriend, you cougar hound."

"Bite me," Sam deadpanned.

"Hey, not if she bites you first."

"Hey, so…" I began because I wanted to be the first to say it. "Who the hell is Alex?"

"No clue. Maybe we got another player in town," Dean answered.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Doesn't change our job," Sam added.

"So, we're thinking ghost ship, right?"

"Ooh, maybe we'll find Johnny Depp," I joked. "Captain Jack Sparrow."

"Mm. Or Keira Knightly," Dean said, with a wistful expression. Then he snapped out of it and grimaced. "Actually, with our luck, we'll probably run into tentacle face."

"Ew," I said.

"Anyway, what's the lore?" Dean asked Sam, since Sam was the serious brain of our triangle.

"Behind tentacle face?" Sam asked, grinning.

"No, smartass. Behind ghost ships."

"Well, there are apparitions of old wrecks sighted all over the world. The S.S. Violet, the Griffon, the Flying Dutchman. Almost all of them are death omens."

"So, what happens? You see the ship, then a few hours later you pucker up and kiss your ass good-bye?" Dean asked.

"Very subtly put, Dean," I said sarcastically, but not without fondness.

"But you're basically right," Sam said.

"So, we should hit the library, yeah?" I asked. "I mean, it's on the way."

"Yeah, we need to ID this boat," Sam said. "It's probably been seen before now."

We reached the library within five minutes and we immediately sought out the computers and the archives. Sam and Dean were checking out ships and ship wrecks, which were in the archives in the back of the building; I was checking out weirdo drownings - the kind that would not happen normally - on the computers, which were in the front of the building. So, communication was hard to accomplish at this point.

It would've been easier if I'd known where to start. I tried cross-referencing shipwrecks with drowning…but…there were way too many to even try to narrow it down. Then I cross-referenced vanishing ships with land drownings and, much to my surprise…there were actually a bunch of links. I narrowed it down by adding in the town we were in.

There were a bunch of land drownings in this town alone, going back every 37 years. Huh. Pattern there.

I didn't know how long I'd been researching, but the guys were back now with a folder of stuff.

Once Sam was situated at another computer and Dean had pulled up another chair just to be close to us, I started talking.

"So…what is a ghost ship, anyway? Is it, like, an empty ship just floating around?" I asked.

"Not always empty. Supposedly, the captain of the Flying Dutchman is still on board."

"Really?" That wasn't just for the movie?

Sam and I were having one of those moments where Dean thought we were mind melding just because we weren't only interested in killing bad things; we didn't mind learning about them in the process. Hey, knowledge is power in this line of work, so… And I was happy we could still discuss things even if he was mad at me.

"Yeah. Story goes there was a storm and he refused to back down from rounding the Cape of Good Hope. Now people still see the ship sometimes."

"Hm. And those other ships you said?"

"The S.S. Violet disappeared in the 1800's. And going even further back, the Griffon disappeared in 1679. Um, from Lake Michigan. Throughout history there's been mentions of these ships that, when you see them, they vanish on the horizon, and they're death omens. Portents of your impending doom. If you see the ship, then the ghost comes after you and you die."

"Any particular reason why?" I asked. "Because a reason would help the research process."

"Not so far as we can tell, but…there's always a pattern," Dean answered. "We'll find it."

"Ooh, speaking of patterns…every 37 years…there's a rash of unexplained drownings here. Then it just stops and 37 years later…it happens again," I said. "It doesn't mention a ship, but the drownings are still weird."

"Well, like I said, we'll find it," Dean said, sighing. "It shouldn't be too hard. I mean, how many three-mast clipper ships are wrecked off the coast?"

"I checked that too, actually," Sam said. "Over one-hundred-and-fifty."

"Wow!" Dean said, dismayed. "Crap!"

"Mm-hm."

"Um…what're you talking about?" I asked. "A three-mast clipper ship?"

"Oh, um, we found a description," Sam said sheepishly. "This isn't the first time it's been seen, like I said, and there are stories all over the archives about people seeing disappearing ships."

"People saw disappearing ships and they actually told other people? Bet that went over well."

"Yup. Every 37 years, like clockwork, reports of a vanishing three-mast clipper ship out in the bay…probably connected to your drownings."

"And you're just telling me this now?"

"We were getting there," Sam said, and I could hear his tone change to slight anger. "Don't have a hissy fit."

"A hissy fit?" I asked, only a little defensive. "When you find something out I need to know. It's called communication. Helps move the research along quicker, Sam."

Sam made one of his bitch faces that Dean knew like the back of his hand, but that I hardly ever paid any attention to.

"Dean, tell her we were gonna tell her."

What was he, twelve? Did we need a messenger now?

"We were gonna tell you," Dean said quickly. "But we should've told you faster," he added with even more speed. It was his way of agreeing with us both, keeping us both happy.

"Yes, you should've," I said, but then I added, "but I was mostly teasing. I didn't like the hissy fit bit…but I wasn't really mad at you." Sam should've known that already. He'd done nothing for me to be mad at him for. Until just then, anyway.

I couldn't joke around with Sam the way I could with Dean because most of the time he wouldn't get it; it would be completely lost on him. Then he would have a hissy fit.

Dean was looking between me and Sam like he was trying to figure out what was going on with us. Then he shook his head and said, "Anyway, since we know the basics, we can figure out the rest back at the motel. All we need is to print out some pictures of the ships that wrecked. If we can find them, anyway."

"After that, can we get food?" I asked. I hadn't eaten since the night before and I was over the forgetting to eat stage of my grieving process and I was friggin' hungry. Not to mention we'd been at the research gig for about three hours now and my head was beginning to ache. The little tiff with Sam wasn't helping any.

"Sure," Dean said. "I could use some food myself."

"Oh, you guys go ahead," Sam said. "I'll stay here, get the pictures. I'll meet you back at the car."

"You sure?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, you go ahead."

"Okay."

So Dean and I took off on our own and left Sam to whatever he was planning on doing.

"So…what's goin' on with you and Sam?" Dean asked quickly, like he'd been dying to know since the semi-argument. "There seemed to be a little tension for some reason. Did you two have a fight?"

"Sam's pissed at me, I guess. Has been since I told him I wouldn't help him."

"Help him?"

"Save you," I specified. "I told him I wouldn't help him help you unless we could find a way to save him too." I looked down, ashamed. "I know that sounds bad and…coming from me, anyway, but I can't risk both of you. I love you both and I can't choose."

We weren't that far from the library or the restaurant - everything was close together here - and Dean just stopped walking and so I turned to look at him.

"What?"

"You don't have to explain that to me, Aly. You don't have to make that decision, and you shouldn't have to. Don't torture yourself over it." He touched my arm soothingly and I didn't move away even though I probably should have. But he didn't mean anything by it, so it was okay, I guessed. "I mean, you're caught in the middle here and I get it. I know how hard this is for you."

I really, really doubted that, but I didn't say anything about it. It would only lead to tears and I didn't feel like crying right now. As it was, I already felt the tell-tale sign of my eyes stinging like crazy, so…I changed the subject.

"So, uh…did Bobby call you? Like, yesterday?"

"No. Why?" Dean asked, and we resumed walking.

I shrugged. "He called me. And oddly enough, I think he was checking up on me. Or us. You and me. Then he mentioned a job he was working for a friend. Um, William Connors, maybe? Said he -"

"Connors? Never heard of him." He realized he'd interrupted when I glared. "Sorry. Go ahead."

"Okay. Said he was looking for some kind of artifact. Doesn't know what it is, exactly, but demons want it too. Bobby was in a shipping yard when he called. He said William, whoever that is, had been tracking it for a while. Demons really want it; they killed for it."

"Yeah, well, they would kill for a Klondike Bar," Dean quipped, which drew a grin from my lips, which had probably been what he'd been going for anyway because he grinned too. "Sounds serious, though, if they want it that bad."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. He called me, though, and for what? He's never called just to let us know what he was doing before. Not unless he needed help."

"Did he ask for help?"

I scoffed. "No. He didn't even say where he was, just that he was looking for something."

"Well, I wouldn't worry about it. He'll call back if he needs us."

We didn't stay at the diner we chose; we just got something for us and Sam and then we began walking back toward where we'd parked the car. We met Sam about halfway and then began our trek again.

"So, I was thinking I should check that Sheila chick out," I said. "See if there's any tell-tale signs of why a ghost might want her dead."

"Yeah, look for other victims while you're at it," Dean said. Then he stopped walking and looked…disturbed? "This is where we parked the car, right?"

"I thought so," Sam said.

I didn't know; the whole street along the marina looked the same to me. Big ass yachts all along the waterline.

"Where's my car?" Dean asked, freaked. "Sam, where's my car?" Then he literally shouted, "Somebody stole my car!"

"Hey, hey, calm down, Dean," Sam tried to soothe him.

"I am calmed down. Somebody stole my c-"

He literally began hyperventilating. He looked like I probably had when I'd first begun sensing demons. Shaking, having trouble breathing, the whole nine yards. Over a car.

If it had been anyone but Dean, I probably would have had a smartass comment at hand, but…it was the Impala, which was Dean's baby.

Sam and I had to grab one arm each and we tried reassuring Dean that we would find the car.

"The '67 Impala? Was that yours?"

I knew automatically who it was without even looking. Bela, thief extraordinaire. I would know her voice anywhere even though I'd only heard her a few times before. Kind of hard to forget someone who cause so many problems.

"Bela," Sam exclaimed. Yeah, we hadn't really expected to find her here.

"I'm sorry, I had that car towed."

"You what?" Dean asked hysterically, glaring at her.

"Well, it was in a tow away zone," she replied as if it were the most obvious thing ever.

"No, it wasn't!"

She smiled mischievously. "It was when I was through with it."

"What are you even doing here?" I asked, glaring myself.

She shrugged indifferently. "A little yachting."

Well, she did have enough money to own one, but…this was Bela we were talking about so there was no way her reason for being here was as innocent as that.

"You're Alex," Sam accused. "You're working with that old lady."

"Gert's a dear old friend," Bela claimed.

"Yeah right. What's your angle?" Dean asked, because apparently we were on the same page with the whole innocence thing.

"There's no angle. There's a lot of lovely old women like Gert up and down the eastern seaboard. I sell them charms, perform séances so they can commune with their dead cats."

"And let me guess, it's all a con. None of it is real," Dean said.

"The comfort I provide them is very real," Bela said with her snooty voice.

Yes, there was resentment there; last time we were together she'd shot Sam, and because of that, I'd nearly broken my back.

Bela turned and began to walk away, but Sam stopped her by saying, "How do you sleep at night?"

She smiled mischievously again. "On silk sheets, rolling naked in money."

Dean's eyes went kind of vacant like he was picturing what she'd just said. Then he shrugged his approval. I couldn't even slap him because we weren't together anymore. I knew he didn't mean anything by it, but still…it was the principle of the thing.

"Really, Sam. I'd expect the attitude from him. But you?"

"You shot me!"

"I barely grazed you."

Sam scoffed, but Dean seemed to see the logic behind her words because he did that nod-and-lift-your-eyebrow thing he did when he agreed with something.

"Cute," Bela directed at Sam, and then to Dean, "but a bit of a drama queen, yeah?"

"You do know what's going on around here? This ghost ship thing, it is real," Dean said.

"I'm aware. Thanks for telling Gert the case isn't solved, by the way."

"It isn't," I said.

"She didn't know that. Now the old bag's stopped payment and she's demanding some real answers." She sounded annoyed by that, but…she shouldn't have been. It wasn't like she needed anymore money than she already had. "Look, just stay out of my way before you cause any more trouble."

"You do realize more people are going to die if we don't stop this thing, right?" I asked.

"So?"

"So…why don't you try and help them? Act human for once."

Bela didn't say anything to that. She deflected. "I'd get to that car if I were you…before they find the arsenal in the trunk." Then she turned and walked away.

"Can I shoot her?" Dean asked. I was sure he was at least halfway serious.

"Not in public…" Sam replied regretfully.

"But if, ya know, we meet her in a dark alley…I'm all for it," I said.

Though I had been joking, I realized that if Bela actually became that much of a nuisance, one day we might actually have to…end her miserable life.

Hopefully that day didn't come any time soon.

Alright, so...what do you think? As always, I'd love to know. :) Anyway, this chapter feels a little sad to me what with her having to worry about Dean dying AND Sam not getting along with her. Anyway...yeah...review please. :) And thank you. (those are the magic words, right?)