If there's one thing that Alex hates, it's waiting.
Or, more accurately, she hates having nothing to do but sit behind the wheel of her car, forced to think about nothing but whatever hell her uncle is being put through while she waits, uselessly, for some damn glue to dry.
Tick, tock.
Her eyes squeeze shut. She fucking hates demons.
Upon returning upstairs and leaving the Winchesters to their own devices, she had marched over to one of the many bookshelves that she and Noah keep in the house, looking for a book that is just as thick as the journal was. After several minutes she finally found what she was looking for - some old family recipe book that had been Noah's great-aunt or something- and she had promptly torn it apart in the same manner that she had for the journal minutes prior.
A shit ton of superglue later, and after both carefully and precisely lining the book, the front page of the original journal and the cover together, and the new 'journal' was ready to go. All she had to do much to her annoyance, was wait for it to dry.
She had originally been waiting in the kitchen, but the four walls surrounding her in an almost suffocating manner and the knowledge that there were two hunters down the hall from where she was had made her skin crawl. Wanting to put some space between them so that she could just have a moment to gather her thoughts, she had promptly marched down the hall and out the front door, making a beeline for beloved Hyundai. She had felt a little uneasy about leaving the Winchesters by themselves in her house, but she had reasoned that if they tried to take anything with them then she would be able to catch them before they could make it to their car, which was parked just behind Alex's.
It may seem like she was sulking to the brothers, retreating to the confines of her vehicle. But to be honest? She couldn't care less about what they think.
Her eyes snap back open and she turns her head towards the passenger seat where the book lies, and she almost swears when she realises upon closer inspection that it will need at least extra twenty minutes to dry before she can even think of touching it. She had turned the heater on and settled for a lower setting in an effort to speed up the process, and she now reaches forward to flip the knob so that more intense heat blasts from the vents. Under any other circumstances, twenty minutes wouldn't feel like such a long time. But Alex knows that they will crawl along at a torturous, snail-like pace.
Tick, tock.
She tosses her head against the back of her seat and lets out a weary sigh. If anyone had told her that this is how her day would turn out – annoying, nosy hunters, nasty demons and kidnappings – she would have told them that they were out of their minds. It's not entirely anything new, and to be honest, she found herself in similar, crappier situations before. But the fact that the person in trouble is Noah, and that the demons holding him hostage may possibly work for the one she's been hiding from just brings everything to a whole other level entirely.
Her hands start to tremble as she dwells on this, so she threads them through the fabric of the corners of her shirt in an effort to still them. She doesn't have any solid proof that the 'boss' that duke had been referring to back in the store was Yellow Eyes, yet she can't help but feel that all of this chaos leads back to him somehow. It's an ugly and very much unwanted thought, but she can't shake it for one, simple reason; if these demons really are working for Yellow Eyes, then it has to mean that he's known where the Donovan's have been hiding for the past few years.
Her stomach churns at the thought and what it means for her and Noah. Has Yellow Eyes been spying on them all these years? Just biding his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike?
It's been years, she tries to reason with herself. He's had ample opportunity to kill us if he knows where we are, so maybe these demons aren't working for him?
But who else could be targeting the Donovan family? Sure, they've managed to piss off a few people and demons over the years, but not enough to warrant death sentences.
If it really is him, then does he know about Isla and Oscar? And how much they mean to her?
Her grip on her shirt tightens to the point where the fabric threatens to rip beneath her fingers as Isla's petrified face from earlier in the fay flashes behind her eyes at the thought. And with the fear, comes guilt. Alex had never meant to get close to Isla. It was the number one golden rule that she and the rest of her family have strived to follow for as long as she can remember; don't get too attached to anyone outside of their small clan. Doing so would only drag innocent lives into their dark and dangerous world where they were likely to wind up dead just by associating with the hunting family. Alex already has enough blood on her hands to last a lifetime, so while the rule had seemed difficult and almost too restrictive in some aspects, she had been content enough with following it.
And then Isla Dunne happened to become her roommate. She waltzed in with her easy smile and bright laugh and broke Alex's steel resolve within minutes. It had been impossible for Alex not to let the bubbly yet fierce girl with a heart of gold into her life, and Oscar had managed to creep his charming self in as well. They've been good to her in more ways than she can count, so she would do anything to ensure their safety.
Even if it means leaving Jackson and them behind. It would break her heart to do so – already she feels a profound sadness at the thought alone – but she owes them too much to stay and endanger them anymore than she possibly already has.
Despite all these already troubling and frustrating thoughts swirl around her mind like a tornado, there's still one underlying question that's gravity and concern continues to grow by the second the more that she sits here and ponders it;
If Yellow Eyes really has known that Alex and Noah have been hiding here in Jackson all this time, then why the hell hasn't it come to kill her yet?
All these unanswered questions – these troubling thoughts, worries and fears – make her want to pick up the phone and call Ellen. Noah is usually her go-to person whenever there's a problem that she can't handle, but Ellen has always been a close second. Her mother-like nature and take no-nonsense attitude could solve anything Alex needed, yet her hands don't itch to grab the phone right now. The older hunter and her daughter are almost two states away, so she wouldn't be able to get there in time to help, and Alex can't help but feel that, like the Winchester brothers, she will only disapprove of Alex's plan, citing that it is far too risky to even try and pull off. She doesn't want or need criticism right now.
Speaking of the Winchesters…
She tilts her head forward as the front door suddenly swings open and Sam Winchester steps out onto the front porch. He closes the door with a gentle thud as his head turns from side to side, looking for something. It isn't until his hazel orbs land and remain on Alex's form behind the wheel of her car that she realises he is looking for her.
She does her best to school the features of her face into an almost nonchalant calmness as he starts to make his way down the steps, hoping that it is enough to conceal all the bubbling anxiety beneath her surface. She is also quick to draw her hands away from her shirt and flex her now aching knuckles and reaches over to wind down the window of her car.
He nods in greeting with an almost unsure smile plastered to his features, and upon noticing that he's alone, Alex makes a point to glance back at her house behind him.
"Is it really a good idea leaving your brother all by himself in there?"
"What do you mean?" Sam asks, leaning down with his hands in his pockets so that he can make eye contact with her. The stance wouldn't be comfortable for very long, but he makes no move to straighten back up.
Alex purses her lips. "If he takes anything…"
"Dean? Nah, don't worry. He's harmless," Sam assures. "I know he can seem like a jerk - "
Alex raises a brow.
"… alright, is a bit jerk sometimes, but he means well."
She gives a small and slow jerk of her head, satisfied enough with his reassurance. "Look, if you're here to try and talk me out of this, then you may as well go grab your brother, get back in your car and leave."
The corners of his mouth flick up in a dry smile. "Technically, it's not my car. It's Dean's."
"I'm not changing my mind."
"Yeah. I kinda got that."
Despite this, Alex doesn't quite believe that he does. "Tell me. If the one person in the whole world that you have and could always count on was in my uncle's place, would you do anything and everything to try and get them back?"
Alex doesn't miss the way that his eyes glance back towards the house and where Dean still currently is. "I'd do anything."
"Then you do understand."
"I do. But you have to realise that you're planning on doing something incredibly risky. If these demons even suspect that you're up to something, then there's a high chance that your uncle might not make it out of that house alive. Or you for that matter."
She flinches at the unwanted reminder of what it is that is at stake here. "I get that, and it's the last thing that I want. But it's like what I said earlier; what other option do I have?"
As it had ten minutes prior when Alex had first posed the rhetorical question to the brothers, an empty silence fills the early evening air, and it seems that Sam is at loss for an answer. Instead, he drops deeper in stance to poke his head through the open window and look at the journal on the other seat beside her.
"It's pretty good," he acknowledges with a small nod of approval. "But uh, what happens if they decide to read what's on the inside?"
She stiffens. It's not like she hadn't thought of the possibility, but she had been so hyper-focused on trying to find some way to save Noah in the first place, that the tiny detail had slinked back to the furthest corners of her mind to be dealt with at a later time. It's now later, but she still doesn't have an answer for it.
"Don't know yet. I guess I'll cross that bridge if I come to it."
"That's - "
"Incredibly risky, I get it," she snaps. "Look, if you're just going to sit here and criticize -"
"I don't mean to," Sam is quick to interject. "It's just – my Dad, um, he – he always taught us to go over every small detail when hunting. He liked to make sure that we were well and truly prepared, I guess."
The smile on his face ceases to exist and a saddened lilt underlies each of his words as he speaks about his father, and it's once again that Alex remembers that both of their parents have been killed by this thing. According to Ellen, their father had only been killed recently as well. Any other person might have offered their condolences, and while Alex does feel an inkling of sympathy for the man before her, she holds her tongue; he doesn't know that Ellen told her about their father. Alex might be angry with her, but it still doesn't mean that she wants to get Ellen in any sort of drama if she was supposed to keep the information to herself.
Sam clears his throat. "So. Yellow Eyes? How long has he been after you for?"
She immediately tenses up, not liking at all where this conversation is now heading. "Too long," is her short reply. "You?"
"It's actually the other way round. My family, we've been hunting him since I was a baby. We never really had much luck in finding him until recently though."
"Where'd you see him last?"
"Lincoln, Iowa."
A chill involuntarily runs down her spine, causing her body to shiver. Iowa. Two states over. Not that very far from Jackson at all.
Sam must not notice how his words affect her, or if he does, then he chooses not to comment on it. Instead, he quietly questions, "Do you really think that he's behind all of this?"
"Who else could it be?"
"Hunters make a lot of enemies."
"Not like him."
Sam sighs at the finality in her words. "Yeah, I guess you're right. What do you think it wants with the journal?"
"Beats me. I couldn't make much sense out of it – it's full of symbols, not words."
"I know," Sam reveals. Upon the firm and questioning look from Alex that he earns for saying this, he sheepishly adds, "I might have uh, glanced through it when you went upstairs…"
"You mean you went snooping."
"I mean, technically it was just sitting there…"
"And yet, you wonder why I would be afraid of leaving your brother alone in the house."
"I might have told him to stay back," Sam admits. "I could kinda tell that he was getting on your nerves, so I figured it might be good to give you guys some space from one another."
"He's a dick-"
Sam snorts at her bluntness.
"But… I do appreciate what he did back at the shop," she reluctantly admits, her face scrunching up as she does. "He didn't have to stay behind and deal with those demons, but he did."
"You seem surprised."
She tastes a sour taste in the back of her throat as the statement brings up some unwanted memories. With her features hardening, she bites out, "Let's just say that a lot of hunters wouldn't have done the same in his shoes. At least, not any that I've crossed paths with."
Sam opens his mouth as if to ask her to elaborate further on the matter, but clamps his mouth firmly shut before he can get a word out when he sees the harshness underlying her features. It seems that he is a quick learner and has already guessed that Alex isn't the revealing type, and unlike his brother, he's respectful enough not to push. She's grateful for it, and it's enough to at least chip away at the iciness she has so far felt in their presence.
She casts her eyes back to the fake journal and is pleased to see that it is almost ready to go. Reaching forward to thoughtfully drum her fingers against the edge of the steering wheel, she finally says, "Look, I don't get why you're so eager to help me get Noah back. It doesn't go unappreciated, but you need to realise that this isn't your fight. If you and your brother want to leave town and put all of this behind you, then I won't blame you."
She expects him to gently explain that this is why he had come to find her in the first place. That while he feels sorry that she and her uncle are in this current and unwanted predicament, he and Dean can't involve themselves in this mess. That it had been a mistake coming here to try and ask for her help in the first place, and that Ellen should have never suggested it in the first place. It would be better for all parties involved if they just pack up and leave town, and never bother the Donovan's again. She could handle a couple of demons, surely.
Alex doesn't know whether to be pleased by this outcome or disappointed. On one hand, she'd be getting exactly what she's wanted all day; for the Winchesters to leave Jackson. But on the other, there's a bitterness in knowing that she had been right – same old, same old. Hunters can't be trusted, and she can only rely on herself and those closest to her for help. She braces herself for the apologetic words –
But they never come. Straightening up as much as he can in his bent over position, Sam affirms, "I already told you that we're gonna do everything that we can to get your uncle back. I meant what I said."
She blinks. "Oh."
"Oh?"
Now it's her turn to become sheepish. "I didn't expect you to follow through with what you said, is all."
He softens. "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it. I was actually coming out to find you to hear the rest of your plan. If you have one, that is."
"I do. It's not exactly full proof, but I think it will work, depending on how many more demons are waiting for us back at the house. There has to be at least one other one though. They wouldn't leave Noah by himself."
"Dean mentioned that there's one that's stronger than the others?"
Her lips curl back into a vicious and silent snarl as Duke's taunting smirk flashes behind her eyes, and her blood practically boils with anger in her veins. "Duke," she spits, not noticing how Sam slightly recoils at the venom dripping from her tone. "Leave that bastard for me. I have something special in store for him, if you can keep the others off me long enough."
"What exactly do you have in mind?"
"Call your brother. Once he's out here, I'll explain everything." She turns her head to look at the thing that had caused all this drama in the first place. The fake journal is almost dry now, and it will only take a few more minutes before she could pick it up. Absentmindedly, she reaches over to delicately trace the pentagram carved into the cover with a single finger, careful not to move it.
All this chaos, all this worry – over something as small as a journal.
"You're not going to back out at the last minute, right?" Alex asks. Turning back to face Sam, she adds, "I can't have you half-assing anything once we head to the house. There's too much at stake here."
The words are unspoken, but she knows that Sam understands her perfectly. What she really means is that Noah's life depends on their actions today – that might not mean much to the Winchester brothers, but it means everything to her. If they said that they are committed, then the better damn well be committed. If Noah ends up getting killed because they are unwilling to do everything and anything to save him after blatantly stating that they would, then there would be hell to pay. A pack of demons would be the least of there concerns if they had a vengeful Alex on their ass.
The subtle promise doesn't go unnoticed by Sam, as he straightens and a candid expression overtakes his face. "We're not going to leave you to try and handle this all on your own," he says, sounding the sincerest that he has for the past hour or so. "We're gonna be with you until whatever the outcome might be."
Though satisfied with his apparent truthful promise, her heart can't help but sink at the last of his words. They serve as an unwelcome reminder that Noah's safety isn't guaranteed yet, and wouldn't be until he was out of the house and the demons keeping him trapped had been swiftly sent back to hell. There's every chance that something could go wrong and she'll become the last standing member of the Donovan family, forced to spend the rest of her life without any family members by her side.
She can't help but shudder at the lonely thought.
"You just say the word, and we'll be right there behind you," Sam adds, dragging her out from her troubled mind. "Like I said; we're gonna do everything and anything that we can to help."
Alex cocks her head to the side. "Are you Winchesters always this helpful?"
"I'd like to think that if we ever found ourselves in a situation like this, then someone else would do the same as we are now."
Funny. That's something similar to what Dean had been whining about earlier when he had caught up to her in the middle of the street. At the time she thought that he had absolutely reeked of bullshit – no hunter that she's ever crossed paths with has ever been willing to put stick their necks out someone else that wasn't part of a case they were working; she had claimed that no such hunter existed.
And yet, the Winchester brothers have just proved her entirely wrong.
With an air of determination and secretly not knowing whether to be glad that she had help or annoyed at being proven wrong, she declares, "Then let's go and get my uncle back and send those black-eyed bastards straight back to hell."
515 Howitt St has never stuck out as anything special to Alex in the two years that she has lived in Jackson. In fact, it seemed like your regular run of the mill suburban structure that most people would be happy to call home. Two stories, layered bricks, a nice green lawn practically mowed to perfection – the neighbours must have been doing it while the Haysmiths are away – and a front porch facing out onto the quiet street which is perfect for the neighbourhood kids to ride their bikes up and down the paved strip. It would appear rather homey and welcoming upon first impression.
But knowing exactly what horrors awaits her behind its four walls, Alex feels nothing but a sickening pile of dread in the pit of her stomach as she stares at the house from the footpath on the opposite side of the street.
The fake journal tucked safely away in the pocket on the inside of her jacket feels far heavier than it actually is, and weighs her down almost as much as the apprehension clouding her troubled mind. The lights on both floors have been switched on, but the curtains are drawn and make it impossible to make out any figures moving behind them; there could be dozens of demons awaiting her behind the closed doors, and she wouldn't even know it.
There's every chance that Noah could be dead as well, but she tries her best to steer clear from any of those thoughts.
She gnaws nervously on her bottom lip. They have a plan; not entirely full proof, but if they follow it to perfection then the odds will be in their favour. She knows from experience that freaking out about everything and anything that could go wrong would lead to nothing good, so she does her best to swallow her nerves and let out a long, even breath. Noah is counting on her – she can't screw this up.
With her head held high, she marches across the street, her heart slamming painfully against her chest.
She takes the steps two at a time and the moment that she steps foot on the porch, the door swings open and a smug-looking Duke awaits for her on the other side. Her face twists into a dark scowl at the sight of him.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't little Miss Alex Donovan. Right on time and alone, too."
"Where's Noah?"
"Now hold your horses. Rest assured, you'll get your uncle back in mostly one piece – but first, where's the journal?"
She stubbornly crosses her arms over her chest in defiance. "You're not getting a damn thing until I see my uncle."
A tick appears in the side of Duke's face – clearly, he doesn't like being told what to do. But nevertheless, he manages to maintain the fake pleasantness with a tight smile and a raise of his hands, almost in a silent surrender. "Of course," he says, voice borderline a sneer. Stepping to the side, he holds the door open for her. "Right this way."
Every hair on her body stands up on end at the thought of moving past him, but she doesn't allow him to see just how much it unnerves her. Dropping her arms to fists by her side – ready for anything – she quickly steps past him and steps over the threshold and into the house. She tries her best to control her racing heart as he closes the door with a surprisingly gentle click behind them, leaving her well and truly behind enemy lines.
Stay calm, a small, reasonable voice whispers in the back of her mind. This is part of the plan.
Duke steps forward, and she instinctively draws back away from him, almost crashing into the photo-filled cream wall behind her. His trademark smirk widens at the movement – she would like nothing more than to punch it right off his stupid face - but he wisely makes no comment on the matter and instead beckons her to follow him deeper into the house.
She's surprised to see that everything inside the house remains almost untouched by the demons – every piece of furniture appears to be exactly where it should be, and there's not a speck of dust to be found anywhere despite the Haysmiths' absence the past few months. She bites back any smart ass comments that threaten to seep past her lips on the matter as Duke leads her through the spacious living room and through the neat kitchen – beyond the third door, in the dining room, is Noah.
"Look who showed up boys," Duke announces with a clap of his hands.
Alex comes to a complete and utter halt in the doorway at the sight before her. The shinning, oak table has been pushed back to a far corner of the room with four of the six chairs stacked up high beside it. One of the other two is placed near the door with Blondie occupying it, and he pulls himself to his feet with a snarl curling his lips at the sight of her. Flannel doesn't stand too far behind him, a towel in his hands as he wipes the red blotches of blood off them, a sadistic grin on his face as he stares at the other chair in the centre of the room, with a bruised and bloody figure slumped forward tied to it.
A gasp lodges in the back of her throat when the figure slowly lifts his head, and she looks into the emerald-green orbs of her uncle for the first time all day.
A mixture of wet and dry blood covers half of his worn face, the red liquid seeping from a deep cut on the corner of his temple. His clothes have been ripped and cut apart in some places, and it would be impossible for her to notice the cuts – both deep and shallow – littering his pale skin beneath the torn fabric. His hands have been securely tied behind his back with a rope that likely bites into his skin, and his bottom lip has been busted open, red blood dribbling from the open wound and mixing with the bruises of purple and blue hues on his face.
"Noah - !"
She lurches forward but is immediately pushed back by Duke. With a red haze clouding her vision, she moves to push past him again but comes to a reluctant stop in her tracks when Blondie moves to stand beside him, acting as a barrier between her and her uncle.
"What the fuck have you done to him?!" She half yells.
"Relax – he's still in one piece, ain't he?" Flannel taunts, tossing the bloody towel to the side. "Well, mostly…"
An animalistic growl erupts from the back of her throat, and it's enough to make the smug smile on Flannel's face vanish entirely – at least he's got enough common sense to be scared of her right now.
"I am going to kill every last one of you," she vehemently promises, venom dripping from every word. "I swear to God – "
"Yeah? You and what army?" Blondie snaps. When Alex turns to look at him, she is pleased to see that the three, jagged cuts she had made with her nails earlier in the bookshop still remain. And they look pretty painful too.
Her anger turns twists into a pleased bitterness, and she can't help but smirk. "Nice face."
"Fucking bitch – "
"Let's not go and lose our heads now, alright?" Duke suggests, trying his best to soothe the quickly escalating situation. "Your uncle's alive, isn't he? We've kept our end of the deal; it's time you keep yours."
"Ale-x – " Noah groans, voice cracking on the last syllable. It almost breaks her heart in two
"Be quiet!."
"You shouldn't – you shouldn't be here – "
"Shut your mouth!"
"You – you have to – leave. Please…"
"I said shut it old man!" Flannel barks, stalking forward and lifting his hand. Alex can barely control her scream of rage as he backhands Noah across the face, the latter's head whipping back from the force of it.
With an angered cry, she draws her gun from the back pocket of her jeans and aims it directly at the space between Flannel's wrinkled eyes. The violent gesture immediately throws the room into chaos, and everyone begins to shout over the top of one another. While Flannel threatens to kill Noah right in front of her eyes if she so much as thinks of pulling the trigger and Alex and Blondie exchange foul words with one another, Duke – clearly the only one of the demons with a brain – acts more diplomatically, trying his best to prevent a full fight from breaking out.
"Everyone just be quiet!" He demands, his surprisingly booming voice cutting through the air and effectively shutting everyone up. Alex's grip on the gun doesn't loosen, and she finds herself aiming it towards Duke instead when he turns to face her. "I did what you asked – you've seen for yourself that your uncle is alive. Show me the journal; now."
Her eyes instinctively flicker towards a panic-stricken Noah still tied to the chair, who shakes his head in a silent warning. Alex has absolutely no idea why the journal is as important as it is, but the way that Noah is looking at her now says that no matter what, the demons can't get their hands on it; he knows exactly why they want it, and it doesn't seem all that good.
But he doesn't know that the real journal is tucked away safely back at the farmhouse, which no demon or otherworldly monster can step foot inside thanks to their crafty wards, leaving their property an impenetrable fortress. It's well and truly safe, and it would remain that way for a long while. Which makes it so much easier for her to reach into the pocket of her jacket and slowly pull out the fake journal with her free hand, holding it high in the air for all the others to see.
It would be hard for her not to notice the excited gleam that glints in every one of the demons' eyes, and the wide grin that almost splits Duke's face in two. Noah begins to frantically shake his head and opens his mouth as if to protest, but Flannel raises his hand in a threatening manner before he can get a word out.
Alex's eyes narrow dangerously at the movement.
"Well, I'll be damned." Looking like he just won the lottery, Duke stretches a hand out. "I'll take that off your hands for you – "
But Alex pulls the journal back and further out of his reach before he even finishes speaking. "Not so fast," she snaps. "I'm not giving you a damn thing until I let my uncle go."
The smile slips from Duke's face faster than blinking. "I showed you your damn uncle; he's alive, ain't he?"
"You really think I'm that stupid? The second that I give you this thing, you'll kill the both of us. You're not getting jack squat until Noah's standing beside me."
"How do I know that you're not lying to me right now?"
"Do you honestly think we'll get anywhere very quickly?" She says, jerking her chin towards Noah's battered state. If she tries to take the journal with the two of them, then it won't take long for the three demons to catch up to both her and Noah. Surely they share enough brain cells to realise this.
The ugly scowl stuck on Blondie's face proves otherwise, but Duke has enough sense to at least think about the point that she's trying to get across to him. She can practically sear the gears in his brain ticking way as he studies her before him, eyes flickering back and forth from every corner of her face, likely trying to decipher if she is lying. Not entirely in any sort of position to lie – to some extent – she openly glares back, knowing that in regards to this, she has nothing to hide.
Well, except about the very fake journal in her hands. But they don't need to know about that just yet.
Seemingly finding nothing in her face to contradict her words, Duke finally turns to Flannel, before nodding towards a panic-stricken Noah still tied helplessly to the chair. "Untie him."
"What?!"
"You heard me."
"But Duke – "
"We need that damn journal," Duke hisses. "If this is what we have to do to get it, then so fucking be it. Besides," he pauses to shoot Alex a dirty look. "Little Alex here knows that if she doesn't follow through with her end of the deal, then we'll bleed her precious uncle dry. Don't you, sweetheart?"
She flares. "Call me sweetheart again, and I'll kick my foot so far up your ass it'll come out the other end."
He lets out a bark of laughter. "You know what? I like you. You've got spunk."
"If only I could say the same about you, asswipe."
He rolls his eyes but eventually waves his hand, giving Flannel the all-clear to release Noah. Flannel looks absolutely furious, but he nevertheless begrudgingly walks over and bends down to yank him free from the tight restraints. As expected, his wrists are red raw from how tight they were bound, with even more specks of blood spread across the sensitive skin. Noah wastes no time in trying to soothe it by comfortingly running his hand around it, but Flannel grabs him by the back of his shirt and roughly pulls him to his feet before he can repeat the action with the other hand.
Noah lets out a pained gasp and Alex's heart constricts with the sound, but she doesn't have time to scold Flannel before he unceremoniously shoves the older man forward. Noah stumbles, but this time the demons allow Alex to step forward to catch him before he hits the floor. He grips on her for dear life and allows Alex to drag him back a few paces, with the latter taking great care in how she holds him, making sure not to further aggravate his wounds.
Leaning in close so that only she can his words, he murmurs "Alex, you shouldn't be here. You must leave – please."
"Can you stand?"
"Yes – but listen, they can't – they mustn't have the journal – "
"I don't give a damn about the journal, alright? I'm here for you. "
"Alex – "
"Everything's fine, OK? Trust me," she implores.
Something in her face must change, as Noah's brows furrow briefly, as if puzzled how she can remain so calm at a time like this. But a simple – and subtle – quirk of her own brow tells him that there is more going on here that he realises. The message is given and received quite well, as he firmly clamps his bloody mouth shut, a sense of understanding lacing his green irises.
Resisting the urge to sag with relief at both his surrender and the fact that she's gotten him back after all this trouble, she reaches down to give his hand a tight squeeze. "Get ready to run," she almost silently whispers, her words lost to the demons still standing in the room.
Clearing his throat and remaining completely oblivious to Alex's quiet warning, Duke steps forward. "I hate to break up this touching reunion, but a promise is a promise. We gave you your uncle, now it's your turn to pay up; the journal, Alex. Now."
She always knew that this would eventually happen – one way or the other, the demons were always going to be relentless in trying to get the journal – but it doesn't stop her heart from racing like a horse inside her chest. This part of the plan had been the diciest part, and her nerves are set ablaze in an electrifying mess, but she does her best to keep them at bay. They're so close to walking away from all of this; she can practically taste their freedom on the tip of her tongue.
Her grip on the fake journal tightens as she steps protectively in front of Noah, reaching with her free hand to grip the small flask hidden in the back pocket of her jeans. "You want this thing so damn much? Get it yourself!"
Her grip on the fake journal tightens as she steps protectively in front of Noah, reaching with her free hand to grip the small flask filled to the brim with holy water hidden in the back pocket of her jeans. "You want this thing so damn much? Get it yourself!"
And with that, she pulls her arms back before launching the journal as far and as hard as she can across the room, where it smacks into the far wall. As expected, Duke and Flannel dive to retrieve it, but Blondie makes a move on the two hunters, arms outstretched and teeth bared. Quicker than lightning, Alex whips the flask from the pocket and swings it forward, the holy water spraying out and onto the face of the unsuspecting demon in front of her. He screams and rears back, his skin sizzling from where the water has made contact.
Too preoccupied with reaching the journal instead of helping their fallen friend, Alex wastes no time in ushering Noah out of the room. "Run!"
Noah is quick to follow her instructions, bracing a hand against the wall to help balance himself as he hurries forward down the hall. Alex follows hot on his heels, pushing and dragging everything she can get her hands on – chairs, lamps, anything – behind her in an effort to put some more distance between them and the pack of demons. It wouldn't stop them, but the obstacles would be enough to slow them down. As long as she gets Noah out of the house before they realise –
"It's a fake!"
God damnit.
"Move!"
They turn down the last corner where the front door awaits for them and Alex feels a cry of relief start to bubble in her chest as they move. Noah's hands tug at the handle and he pulls the door open to reveal the cool, night air beyond the front porch –
She screams as an invisible voice sends her flying up and sideways through the air, sending her crashing against the wall above the staircase. The photo of the Haysmiths with family and friends that hang up on the wall shatters to thousands of pieces, and fall onto the stairs as Alex ricochets off the wall and lands with them. She groans as her back hits the corner of the stairs, and she helplessly tumbles down until she lands in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs. Tasting blood in her mouth – she must have bitten her tongue at some point during the fall – her head whips up to see a very pissed off looking Duke stalking down the hallway, a murderous glint in his eyes.
"Alex!"
She turns at the sound of her uncle's voice calling for her, and she is comforted by the sight of him standing on the front porch, holding his left arm awkwardly as he helplessly stares at her fallen form.
"Noah," she gurgles, spitting the blood out of her mouth. "Get out of here!"
A hand grabs a fistful of her hand and hauls her upwards, a pained screech tearing from her throat as she has no choice but to follow through with the movement, least she wants a chunk of her hair being pulled from her head. Her hand blindly reaches out for her missing flask, but to no avail. A hand slaps her flailing one back down to its side, and she glances up through the loose stands in her face to see Duke standing above her.
"You stupid, bitch," he hisses, his hold on her hair tightening as he pulls her to the side. She gasps, blinking through the tears welling in her eyes as Flannel stalks past them, a knife held tightly in his hand as he moves towards a frantic Noah scrambling to anything that can be used as a weapon on the front porch.
"I tried doing this the nice way, but now? Now you have to watch your uncle die slowly."
Flannel raises his hand as he steps just beyond the front door, while an unsuspecting Noah turns to grab a vase –
"Noah, no!"
But it's too late. The knife soars from Flannel's hand and flies through the air towards Noah –
A tall and fast body slams into Noah and knocks him out of the way just in time. The knife misses Noah's face by inches, sailing harmlessly over the front porch and landing on the perfectly mowed lawn on the other side.
Alex lets out a sob of relief, her blurry eyes focusing on the figure that had pushed Noah out of the way, and is now helping him to her feet. She may have acted indifferently to him today, but a swell of gratitude overwhelms her as Sam Winchester helps move her uncle safely down the porch, away from the chaos that begins to unfold on the inside of the house.
Flannel lets out a cry of frustration and moves to follow after his intended victim, but he barely makes it two steps forward before he suddenly stops in his tracks. With his back facing Alex, it is impossible for her to see his face, but knowing what she does, she knows that it must be a look of complete perplexity. Sure enough, when he turns to face Duke and Alex, his face is twisted into a confused frown. "Boss I can't – I can't move – "
Despite the painful throb in her head beneath Duke's hold and the blood still staining her lips and teeth, Alex lets out a smug cackle. "You're – you're not going anywhere," she sneers, enjoying the way that anger laces the demon's face at her obvious glee. "You should've – you should really watch where you're going – "
Panic overtakes the anger, and Flannel turns his gaze to the boards beneath his feet. There, painted in a faint shade of grey similar to that of the porch, is a devil's trap. It's so faint that if you blink then you would miss it; just as Flannel had. She'll admit, the Winchester brother did an amazing job while she had served as the distraction.
He swears, and Alex can't help but laugh again. "There's more where that came from. One at every door, every window – none of you demonic bitches are leaving this house anytime soon – "
With a cry of rage, Duke once again tugs her up by the hair and sends her flying down the hall. She lands flat on her face with a pained gasp, salty tears dribbling freely down her face now. She can hear a fuming Duke hurrying down the hall after her, so gritting her teeth and pushing through the pain, she pulls herself up and moves deeper into the house.
She hobbles through the living room and moves towards the kitchen, feeling a desperate urge to get her hands wrapped around a knife or anything else that can be used as a weapon. As she moves around the counter, however, there comes a sudden crash somewhere to her left. When she turns she sees that Dean – who had snuck around through the back of the house to come and help her fend off the demons – has shoved Blondie into a cabinet filled with expensive china and other ornaments, which tips over under his weight.
As if sensing her gaze on him, Dean whirls on the spot while the demon is left a groaning mess in the pile of smashed glass and china. "You good?" he barks. "Did you get him out?"
"He's safe – "
She cuts off as Duke suddenly barges through the doorway, eyes feral and wide as they land on Alex in front of him. Too angry to think rationally and simply use his mojo to throw her back, he rushes at her, the rage completely taking over at this point.
"A fake fucking journal?!" He screams, spittle flying from his mouth. He aims a punch at her face, but she sidesteps out of his reach, before blocking a second. "You stupid, little girl. Did you really think that was going to work?!"
"Your dumb ass fell for it," she taunts, aiming a kick to his side. He doesn't move out of the way fast enough, and he curls over with a pained grunt, allowing her to grab the back of his shirt and twist around, using his own weight to send him flying headfirst into the countertop, a sickening crack filling the air in his wake. Satisfied that he won't be moving anytime soon, she glances into the dining room where it looks like Dean is about to finish Blondie off. He delivers a swift punch to his gut followed by a quick jab to his face that sends the demon tumbling over his own feet, landing with a heavy thump against the ground.
Dean kneels down and grabs the demon by his lapels, before pulling back his clenched hand and driving hard and fast into Blondie's face. Once, twice, a third time – Alex loses track of how many punches leave the demon dazed and bloody, the red liquid staining the back of the young hunter's knuckles –
Blondie's mouth suddenly parts in a thunderous scream before a trail of thick, jet black smoke suddenly pours out of it, the room almost shaking with the force. Dean lifts his hand in front of his face as if to ward off the sight and Alex moves to help him but it's too late; the smoke disappears through the open back door and disappears into the equally inky blackness of the night sky.
Not sure whether or not to be pissed that the demon got away or relieved that there is one less demon to worry about, Alex turns her attention back to a still fuming, but exhausted, Duke in the kitchen. He struggles to pull himself upright, his hand digging into the countertop to try and steady himself. He lets out a bitter, humourless chuckle as Dean comes to stand beside Alex, the two hunters glaring down at the thing pretending to be a man.
"Fucking hunters," he seethes.
"You made a mistake, going after my uncle like that," Alex snaps, ignoring him altogether. "You're lucky he's alive. Otherwise, I would find a way to kill you myself."
"Alex Donovan," Duke muses with a shake of his head. "We – we underestimated you – "
"'We'?" Does that include your boss as well? Who is he?"
"Who do you think?" Duke asks. "Don't – don't bother trying to play dumb. We all know ex – exactly who sent us here to grab that thing."
Alex's blood turns as cold as ice in her veins with his words. He hasn't said much, but it's enough for her to realise that her worse fears have been proven true; Yellow Eyes is back. And he knows exactly where to find her.
"Why do you want the journal so bad?" Dean demands. "What makes it so special, hm?"
"If I tell you, I'm as good as dead."
Alex glares. "Trust me when I say you'd be better off just telling us everything you know."
"We both know that ain't true, sweetheart. You know full well what he's capable off – you ain't got the balls to do anything worse."
The corners of her mouth flick up in the smallest of smiles, and Duke has enough sense to at least recoil back at the sight. Keeping her eyes firmly locked on him, she replies, "Exorcizamus te omnis immundus spiritus…"
The colour drains from Duke's face, leaving him as white as paper. "An exorcism?" He says, trying – yet failing – to hide the fear from his voice. "You've – you've got to be kidding me – "
"Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio…"
"I don't think she's kidding," Dean mutters, glancing at a concentrating Alex from the corner of his eyes.
Duke swears, sweat starting to coat his forehead –
"Omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo, omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te..."
His head starts to thrash from side to side, his mouth split open in a silent scream -
"Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciæ, hostis humanæ salutis humiliare sub potenti manu Dei; contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine…"
"He's going to kill you!" Duke screeches, his voice straining with the effort of it. "He's going to come after you and kill you and everyone around you until there's nothing left – and I'll be there, I swear to God I'll be there – "
"You'll be too busy rotting in hell, asshole," Alex snaps, before switching to her Latin tongue once more;
"Quem inferi tremunt ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, domine. Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos!"
And just as Blondie had moments prior, Duke's mouth parts in the same thunderous scream, only this time, the black smoke that spills from his mouth doesn't trail out the backdoor. It hurtles towards the roof and pummels hard against it for several seconds, before it disappears entirely, leaving the slumped over the vessel and two hunters standing in the now silent kitchen. She lets out a sigh of both exhaustion and relief; it is finally over.