It takes the Winchesters and Alex several moments to sort themselves – Sam racing back to the motel to grab a map, his brother huffing as he begrudgingly climbs into the back of Alex's Elantra – before they gather and regroup in the car. Her Elantra is much smaller than the Impala, with Sam struggling to fit his tall and lanky frame in the front, even with his seat pulled back. Unlike his brother though, Sam doesn't make snide comments under his breath as he clambers into the vehicle. It takes everything within Alex not to reach down and toss one of her CDs at the eldest Winchester's head with every complaint, but she restrains herself for the sake of the situation at hand.

With his fingers tracing over the map and his eyes narrowed in concentration, Sam mutters to himself quietly;

"The bridge was four and a half minutes from their farm… they took a left out of the farm and then turned right onto a dirt road. They followed that for two minutes – slightly uphill – and then they took another quick right before we hit the bridge."

Dean gives his brother an impressed nod. "You're good."

For once, Alex has to agree with him. That kind of attention to detail is incredibly resourceful and genius, and in this line of work, can make all the difference in whether or not you live to see another hunt. There's a part of her that almost resents not having done something similar herself.

"You're a monster pain in the ass," Dean adds. "But you're good."

Rolling his eyes, Sam turns to Alex. "You got all that?"

"Direct me as we go, and we'll be fine."

And with that, they take off. The drive is done mostly in silence, with Sam giving Alex the odd direction now and again, and Dean sitting wordlessly in the back. The tension from the brother's fight earlier in the night hangs in the small space around them, and it takes every ounce of Alex's willpower to not reach forward and blast some music to fill the empty void. Something tells her that Dean would just bitch about her choice of music taste anyway, and that's enough for her to keep her hands at the wheel.

A glance out of the corner of her eye Sam's way as he stares at the map in his hands informs her that there is a bruise already beginning to form on the cheek that Dean had swung his fist at. It's not that big, but it's the significance of it that causes unease to settle in the pit of her stomach. Whatever the fuck is going on with the two brothers, she hopes that they're smart enough to work it out sooner rather than later. The last thing that Alex wants is to be breaking up any more fistfights between the two of them.

If she stays, that is. After everything that has transpired in the past twenty-four hours – Dean breaking his promise, the fight between him and Sam – she can't help but feel that by agreeing to work with the brothers, she has signed up for more than she bargained for and that it's only going to kick her in the ass sooner rather than later. She has no desire to get caught up in the Winchester family drama, and she knows that Dean is only likely to work with other hunters, regardless of his agreeing not to do so. If he's willing to break the one condition that she laid down in return for hitting the road with them, then she's more than willing to tell him to fuck off and go her own way.

So, why hasn't she done so yet?

It's the million-dollar question. One, that she doesn't have an answer for yet. Maybe it's because maybe she's better off with them. Maybe working together, they have a shot of killing the Yellow-Eyed son of a bitch that destroyed her life and drove her into hiding for all these years. Maybe because she feels that if she takes off now, then she's just signing her death warrant; Yellow Eyes would come for her sooner or later. There's only so much she can do in terms of holding the powerful demon off. Maybe the Winchesters would be able to help her kill it before it kills her.

Or maybe, she's staying because she can't help but feel that leaving will greatly disappoint Sam, and the thought of doing so causes an unfamiliar sense of guilt to cloud her judgement. Which is ridiculous, considering that she's barely known him for a week. Even so, something in her gut tells her that he's the type of person that you would hate to disappoint.

She sighs, reaching up to rub a hand through her hair. Let them deal with the shitshow that was Gordon first. Then she can decide what to do.

It's not long after these troubling thoughts that they pull down the dirt road that Sam said they would. This far out of town, there isn't another soul or car in sight. Only the sounds of pebbles flying from under the car wheels and the headlights illuminating the road in front of them. In the distance, they can make out the shape of a house, one story and dark, the lack of lights glowing from behind the curtains suggesting that no one was home. But it's the sight of a red Chevrolet El Camino parked at the point where the dirt road turns into a driveway that causes Sam's eyes to widen.

"That's Gordon's car – he's found them," he exclaims, panic underlying each of his words. "We have to stop him!"

Dean scoffs from where he sits in the back seat. "Really? Because I still say we lend a hand."

"Dean –"

"They're vampires, Sammy. We can't trust them."

"Then trust me, alright? Just give me the benefit of the doubt! You owe me that!"

"And you're just totally fine with this?" Dean asks, rounding on Alex as she guides her car to a stop just beside Gordon's. Getting too close to the house could alert Gordon of their presence, making them lose the element of surprise that they might need.

"You're just fine with allowing these vampires to walk?"

Putting the car into gear and turning off the engine, she shifts in her seat to match his heated glare. "Look, I had my doubts at first, OK? But their story adds up. How about you talk to Lenore before you make any decisions."

"What, I'm supposed to take the word of a couple of vamps?"

"That's exactly what you're going to do. Because if you go in there guns blazing without giving them a chance to explain their case, then I will knock you on your ass so fast that you won't know what's hit you."

Her steady gaze and the deadly fervour underlying her tone help get the message across. Realising that she's not joking, Dean's heated glare only blazes brighter. He unbuckles his seat belt with more force than necessary, before practically throwing himself out of the car door and slamming it shut behind him. The force of it causes the car to shake, causing Alex's lips to pull back into an ugly sneer.

"Asshole."

Sam eyes his brother warily as he moves around towards the front of the car. "He'll listen to Lenore. He has to."

Alex purses her lips. She doesn't know who it is that he's trying to convince; her, or himself.

Pocketing the map, he unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to face Alex. "You all good?"

"I'm fine. Let's just get this over with."

And with that, the two of them climb out of the car and join Dean in making their way up the path to the house. Now that she isn't blindfolded, Alex can see that it's a one-storied house with blue trimmings and a grand porch, a patio chair and a table placed in the corner. The curtains are drawn, preventing her from taking a proper peek inside as she and the Winchesters trail almost silently up the porch steps. Sam reaches the door first and carefully turns the knob, pushing it open without so much as a creak. Stepping to the side, he ushers Alex and his brother in before following after the two of them.

The inside of the house is dark, but a light shining from a room further deeper in the house illuminates the space enough for Alex to lead the Winchesters down the hall. They turn into the living room that she and Sam had been held captive in earlier in the night, treading their way through the room until they reach the entrance of the kitchen, the sight before them stopping them in their tracks.

Gordon sits on the edge of the kitchen table, his flannel-clad back facing the three of them. Beside him is a weapons bag, the metal from the multiple weapons inside gleaming underneath the kitchen light. He twists around at the sound of their footsteps, and in doing so reveals the bloody figure tied to the chair in front of him; Lenore.

Her already light skin is even paler, the dark blood streaming from the multiple cuts on her arms, face and neck sticking out like a sore thumb and staining her skin. Her chest rises and falls with every pant, her face twisted into a look of pain as Gordon draws a long, silver hunting knife away from her skin. It's coated in blood and judging from the way that Lenore's veins turn black from the mark it has left behind, Alex would wager that it's not just Lenore's; it's covered in dead man's blood as well.

Her stomach twists with a mix of dread and disgust. Gordon is torturing her.

Bile rises to the back of her throat, and it takes everything for her to not spew her guts up all over the dining room floor.

Alex! Alex, run!

She clenches her hands into fists, her nails digging into her skin. Focus. Breathe.

The way that Gordon smiles – smiles – at the three of them is too easy-going. "Hey, guys. C'mon in," he greets so casually, so familiar, as if they were old friends, that it makes Alex's skin crawl.

But none of the three hunters go to make a move. Even Dean seems unsure as he takes in Lenore's state.

"Gordon… what's going on?"

"Oh, I'm just poisoning Lenore here with some dead man's blood. She's gonna tell us where all her little friends are. You wanna help?"

"Look, man –"

"Grab a knife." Gordon twirls the one in his hand. "I was just about to start in on the fingers."

"You're not going to do shit," Alex spits, the venom in her voice causing Gordon's hands to halt in their movements. "Put the knife down. Now."

Sam, taking a much calmer approach, holds out a hand towards Gordon. "She's right Gordon – please, just put the knife down. Just, let's stay calm for a second, alright?"

Gordon turns to glance between Alex and Sam, his dark eyes blinking in surprise. "Kinda sounds like it's the two of you that need to chill right now."

"Just step away from her, alright?"

Gordon straightens, pulling away from the table. Alex watches his every movement, hands still clenched and ready to be swung if need be. But he only comes to a stop beside a moaning Lenore who looks up at the hunter through wet lashes, pain etched to every single feature of her face. Alex wants nothing more than to lurch forward and free the vampire – something she never thought in a million years she would want to do – but she remains rooted in place, afraid that if she did make any sudden moves then Gordon would finish the job.

Seconds tick by, each more growing tense until Gordon tosses the small knife onto the table. "You're right," he quietly admits, much to Alex's surprise. "I'm wasting my time here. This bitch will never talk."

Then he reaches into his weapon's bag and pulls out a larger knife, unsheathing it from its cover and showing off just how long and sharp it is in his hands.

"Might as well put it out of its misery," he continues. When he looks up and notices the horror likely strewn across their faces, he adds, "Don't worry. I just sharpened it, so it's completely humane."

Alex's lips curl back into a silent snarl as Sam stalks forward, insisting that he would let Lenore go –

But the knife in Gordon's hand is pointed towards Sam's throat before he can get too close to the vampire. "You're not doing a single, damn thing."

Alex's hand inches towards the inside of her pocket where her gun and knife rest, waiting to be drawn. While she doesn't like hunters, she doesn't hate them enough to kill them where they stand. But if Gordon made a move, then she wouldn't hesitate to draw out her gun and shoot him.

"Hey, hey, hey, Gordon" Dean says, green eyes focusing solely on the knife in Gordon's hand pointed towards his brother. "Hey, let's just talk about this, man."

"What's there to talk about? It's like I said, Dean. No shades of grey."

"Yeah, I hear you, and I know how you feel. The vampire that killed your sister deserved to die, but this one –"

But Dean is cut off by the sound of Gordon's bitter chuckle filling the room. It's enough to make Alex frown.

"What the fuck is so funny?" she demands.

"The filthy fang didn't kill my sister; it turned her. Made her one of them."

Unease settles in the pit of her stomach at his words, and it only twists into something even sicker as he continues, "So I hunted her down and I killed her myself."

She feels the colour drain from her face. "I'm sorry, you what?"

"It wasn't my sister anymore – it wasn't human," Gordon explains. "I didn't blink – and neither would any of you."

She shakes her head, the bile returning. Killing a vampire was one thing, but killing one that you knew? That you loved? That was family? If Noah, Isla or Oscar were ever turned into a vampire, she would do everything in her power to try and save them. And if that didn't work, she didn't think she would be able to make the final killing blow. That's a line she sure as hell never wants to cross – there would be no coming back from that.

The lack of emotion in Gordon's stone-cold face as he talks about the sister that he had killed with no hesitation tells her that crossing that line might have caused the hunter to snap. Or, at the very least, had caused him to go further down a dark road that he had already been on.

"So you knew," Sam says, snapping Alex from her troubled thoughts. "You knew the vampires weren't killing anyone. You knew about the cattle, but you just didn't care."

"Care about what? A nest of vampires suddenly acting nice? Taking a little time out from sucking innocent people? We're supposed to buy that? Trust me. It doesn't change what they are. And I can prove it."

The knife in his hand flashes and before anyone can react, Gordon grabs a hold of Sam's arm and slices at his skin. Sam barely has time to let out a gasp of pain before Gordon presses the knife to Sam's throat and pulls him closer to the restrained vampire.

Alex and Dean draw their guns in perfect synchrony and aim it directly towards Gordon, Dean's face murderous as he barks, "Let him go!"

"Relax," Gordon says. "If I wanted to kill him he would already be on the floor. I'm just making a little point."

Alex can't help but frown at his words, not understanding what it is that he means until she watches as he turns Sam's arm over, red blood already oozing from the cut that Gordon had made. Sam tries to jerk his arm back but Gordon's hold proves to be too strong, and he watches as the blood trails down Sam's arm before falling in little drops start to fall directly on Lenore's face.

The vampire struggles as her eyes zero in on the blood hovering mere inches above her face, but it's the third drop that lands on her skin that causes her to become undone. Letting out a ferocious growl, her eyes narrow as multiple fangs pierce through her gums, her shaken and bloody form frantically struggling at the restraints binding her to the chair. Alex keeps the gun in her hand steady, but she would be lying if she said that her heart didn't skip a beat at the hissing vampire with fangs too close to Sam's skin. She still believed Lenore – wanted to believe the vampire – but doubt starts to creep in the longer that Alex stares at her pulling at her restraints. Living off cattle blood was one thing, but if exposed to blood in the same manner as she is now, would Lenore be unable to resist? What would happen if they let her go, and Lenore slipped up and killed someone because she didn't have any control over the bloodlust? That would ultimately be on her and the Winchesters, and Alex doesn't want any more blood on her hands if she can help it.

As if sensing her doubt, Gordon shoots Alex a pointed look. "You still want to save her? Look at her. She's a monster – they're all the same. Evil. Bloodthirsty. Killers."

Alex's fingers hover over the trigger, and she prays that she won't have to pull it –

But then something shifts in Lenore's face. She lets out a shuddering breath as the fangs retreat into her gums and her pupils return to their normal size. She ducks her head down and looks away from the blood as she exclaims, "No! No!"

Alex stills. "Lenore?"

"I'm – I'm not a killer."

Alex lets out a breath that she didn't even realise that she had been holding.

"You hear her, Gordon?" Sam spits.

"I'm not a killer."

Gordon's face slackens with disbelief, and Sam takes full advantage of the older hunter's stunned stupor. He shoves Gordon away from him, freeing him from his hold and putting more distance between him and the knife. Gordon only stares at Lenore though, truly surprised at the words that had fallen from the vampire's mouth.

"We're done here," Sam says.

"Sam," Dean speaks up, after having been silent for some time. Alex tenses at the sound of his voice, but relaxes as he orders his younger brother, "Get her out of here."

Alex lets out a quiet sigh of relief. She had truly doubted that Dean would listen to Lenore and believe that she and the rest of her vampire friends weren't hurting anyone. Words weren't enough – the older Winchester had to see it with his own two eyes to believe it, and Lenore had more than proved herself tonight. Had she been unable to resist the blood and fed on Sam then things would have ended much differently.

Sam wastes no time in bending down and pulling the vampire in his arms, shrouding her from Gordon's view. As he moves away from the table, Gordon, recovering from the initial shock, makes to move after them –

Alex steps forward and aims the gun directly between Gordon's eyes. It's enough to make him halt in his tracks.

"Try it," she snaps. "I dare you."

Gordon shoots her a murderous look, but his attention is soon fixed on Dean as he starts to slowly make his way around the table, his gun steady in his hands.

"Gordon. I think there are some things that we need to talk about."

"Alex," Sam breathes as he finally reaches her, Lenore still panting and groaning with pain in his arms.

She jerks her head towards the door, indicating for him to go first. He does so, and she slowly backs out of the room, keeping her gun trained on Gordon as she moves. As they retreat down the hall, she hears Dean and Gordon exchange a few words, but she's too far away to be able to pick up on what they are saying.

Sam shoulders his way through the front door with Alex hot on his heels. They clamber down the porch steps as the fresh night air nips at their skin, making a beeline for Alex's Hyundai parked further down the road. She reaches it first and fumbles to grab the keys from her pocket, unlocking the car and opening the door so that Sam can carefully place Lenore in the backseat.

"You got her?"

"She's in."

"Good. Then let's get the hell out of –"

She cuts off at the sound of a crash, and she and Sam simultaneously whirl around to face back towards the house where the crash had sounded from. Where Dean and Gordon still were. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what caused the loud noise.

Well, that didn't take long.

"OK, we really need to go," she stresses. "Get in –"

"Give me your keys."

"Huh?"

"I'll take Lenore and get her out of here. You go back inside and help Dean deal with Gordon."

She blinks. And then blinks again. "You want to take my car?!"

"I've got to get her and the others out," Sam reasons, desperation underlying his tone. "And the last thing we want is for Gordon to pick up a trail."

She lets out a noise of frustration but slams her keys into Sam's outstretched hand. "I literally just got it fixed, so do me a favour and don't crash it. If you do, I swear to God –"

"It'll be fine, Alex. Go."

But she doesn't. Not yet. Instead, she moves around him and bends down to peer through the open door, her eyes landing on Lenore huddled against the edge of the seat. She still looks pale and there is blood staining her skin, but fewer dark veins are spreading across her body. Though she's probably seen better days, Alex knows that Lenore will be fine. Vampires heal quickly, after all.

"You all good?" She asks.

Lenore gives a small nod of her head. "I – I can't thank you enough –"

"Make sure he comes back alive and in one piece, and we'll call it even," Alex says, jerking a thumb towards a surprised Sam's way. "I mean it. You keep that pain in the ass Eli away from him."

"He… he won't be harmed. I promise."

"Good. Keep drinking the cattle blood and we won't have a problem either."

She hadn't directly said it out loud, but she may as well have screamed the threat at the top of her lungs. As long as they kept drinking the cattle blood, then Alex wouldn't have to track them down and finish what Gordon had started. As long as they didn't hurt someone, then Alex would allow them to live.

Lenore immediately understands and only gives her a short nod of her head. Mirroring the action herself, Alex turns and takes off towards the house, leaving Sam to deal with the wounded Lenore behind her.

Loud thumps and sharp crashes fill the air more clearly the closer she draws to the house, and she takes the porch steps two at a time before she bursts through the front door. It's there that she slows and slinks off to the side, trying her best to stay in the shadows so as not to alert Gordon to her presence. She moves carefully and precisely, inching deeper and deeper into the house and closer towards the hunters now bickering in between curses and punches.

"What are you doing man? You're doing this for a fang?! C'mon, Dean! We're on the same side here!"

"I don't think so, you sadistic bastard!"

A heavy crash sounds from the living room and Alex inches further through the house. She moves through the now empty kitchen and peeks around the doorway leading into the living room to see Dean lying in the middle of what had once been the living room table, Gordon advancing towards the struggling hunter.

"You're not like your brother," Gordon insists, too busy focusing on Dean to notice Alex sneaking up beside him. "You're a killer – like me!"

Directly behind him now, Alex crouches low and sweeps her leg in a circle, effectively knocking Gordon off his feet. He lands on the ground with a surprised yell and a heavy crash and barely has enough time to roll onto his back before Alex is on top of him. Grabbing the front of his shirt and hauling him up, she pulls back a fist and slams it faster than blinking three times in his face.

Her knuckles burn with each punch, but she only glares at the beaten hunter before her. As his head lolls to the side, she lifts him and uses his stunned stupor to her advantage. She drags him forward and flings him into a china display cabinet, glass and plates shattering into thousands of shards and piercing his skin. He lets out a growl as he pulls himself free and turns to throw a punch her way. She ducks and aims a hit to his gut, satisfaction ringing true as he keels over and gasps for air. But he recovers quickly and grabs a fistful of hair, jerking her to the side and slamming her face-first into the wall beside him.

She cries out, pain exploding along the length of her nose and her face from where she had been hit with the lamp earlier in the evening, but she has barely enough time before Gordon pulls her head back and lands a punch to the side of her head. She falls in an instant, doing her best to push through the pain and scramble back as Gordon advances on her. But he doesn't get far, as Dean suddenly appears out of nowhere and slams Gordon back against the wall.

A headbutt. A hit to the face. A knee to the gut. Sharp, quick, and efficient. It's enough to slow Gordon down as he feebly tries to push at Dean, but the latter is relentless and only shoves his arms away before hitting Gordon in the side. Alex watches him as she pulls herself to her feet and Dean, noticing the movement out of the corner of his eye, steps back just in time for Alex to send her fist flying straight into Gordon's jaw, his head cracking to the side on impact.

And just like that, it's game over. Battered, bloody and bruised, Gordon weakly tries to hold himself up – and fails. He starts to topple over, moving face first towards the floor –

But Dean wraps an arm around the hunter's neck before he can truly lose his footing. Jerking forward and dragging a barely awake Gordon with him, he makes a beeline for the kitchen, making sure to ram Gordon's head into the wall as he goes.

Panting and watching them go, Alex reaches up to wipe the blood from her nose. She hisses at the contact, but after tentatively prodding at the tender area, she finds that it is still intact and not broken. Swallowing her sigh of relief, she only fixes her steely eyes on the two figures in the kitchen and stalks forward, pulling her gun from the inside of her coat pocket.

Dean forcefully shoves Gordon into the same chair that Lenore had been restrained in only minutes prior, and he moves down to pick up the rope piled around the bottom of the chair. It would have been the perfect opportunity for Gordon to attack, but he doesn't so much as shift in the chair. Not only because he can barely hold his head up as it is, but also because Alex aims the gun towards him, finger hovering over the trigger and ready to pull back at even the slightest of movement.

It doesn't take Dean long to wrap all of the rope around Gordon, successfully securing him to the chair. As he tightens the last rope with more force than necessary, he leans down to practically growl in Gordon's ear, "You know, I might be like you. Or, I might not."

Giving the ropes a final tug to make sure they are tight enough, Dean then straightens and moves to stand to the side of Gordon, a smirk creeping across his face. It causes the cut on his bottom lip to split open even more, blood already trailing down his chin, but he pays it no attention as he smugly reminds the hunter, "But you're the one that's tied up right now."

Gordon glares daggers at Dean, but the latter only allows his smirk to widen before straightening up. Turning to face Alex, he asks, "Where's Sam?"

"He's getting Lenore and the others out. Told me to come back in because you might need help. Clearly, he was right."

"I was doing fine –!"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Winchester," she drawls. With Gordon bound to the chair, she lowers her gun but keeps a tight grip on it, ready to bring it back up and use it if he tries anything funny.

"You know, I hate to say I told you so … actually, no. I really don't hate to say I told you so, because I was right, and fucking told you so."

"Jury's still out on that one. Those vamps could still end up hurting someone."

"We'll deal with it if it comes to that, but that wasn't what I was talking about, dumbass," Alex says, tilting her head Gordon's way for emphasis.

Dean rolls his eyes. "OK. Fine. You fucking told me, Donovan. You happy now?"

She can't help it; she smirks. "I sure am."

"Donovan?"

Alex stills, and the smirk on her face dissipates altogether at the sound of her family name falling from Gordon's lips. Slowly turning her head back to face him, she sees that he is staring at her now, all anger and hate having vanished from his face. Instead, surprise flickers across his features.

"Donovan…" he repeats as if testing the name on his tongue. "You're – you're Alex Donovan?"

Unease piles in the pit of her stomach, and it takes every ounce of her willpower to keep her face from showing her disturbance at his words. For whatever reason, he seems to know who she is despite her having never heard of him until tonight, and this fact alone is enough to make her skin crawl.

There was no point in denying it. Dean had already confirmed her last name. So, allowing her lips to curl, she sneers, "What's it to you?"

"I heard what happened to your Mom."

She blanches, the gun almost slipping from her hand at the handful of words, and she tastes bile in the back of her throat. Memories of the past start to swirl towards the surface of her mind, but she does her best to try and push them down. The last thing she wants is to relive them and lose it in front of not only Gordon, but a suddenly quiet and curious Dean still standing beside her.

The gun in her hands slightly shaking and panic bubbling just below her surface, she does her best to keep her chin high and opens her mouth intending to brush his words to the side, but Gordon beats her to it;

"It's messed up, what she went through. I'm sorry."

She jerks, his words and the genuine sincerity lacing them having the same effect as slapping her would, and she bites down harshly on her lip to prevent a jagged gasp from tearing free. How could he know? It wasn't possible, shouldn't be possible, they hadn't told a single soul, how had it gotten out whathadhappenedshewouldneverforgetohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod –

A figure suddenly steps in front of her, effectively cutting Gordon out of her sight and making it a little easier for Alex to breathe. While she doesn't particularly like the oldest Winchester, she's thankful for his intervention and steps further away from both him and Gordon, closing her eyes and doing her best to regulate her breathing.

"You're a real dick, you know that, Gordon?"

"Hey man – I'm being serious."

The sincerity makes it worse. He didn't know her mother, didn't know her. He doesn't get to be sorry. Anger seeps in and takes over the fear and panic, and she opens her eyes to shoot him a glare that surpasses rage and fury. "You shut your fucking mouth, or I will not hesitate to shoot it off."

Sensing that she means it, Gordon wisely clamps his mouth shut and doesn't utter another word.

Alex snarls. She wants nothing more than to walk out of the room and find somewhere to decompress, keeping Gordon well and truly out of her sight. The urge to isolate herself and her anger and fear is strong, but she's worried that if she leaves then Gordon will only tell Dean what had happened in her absence. And he doesn't get to do that – it's not his fucking story to tell. So, she lets out a barely audible shaky breath, before stalking forward and pulling up a chair on the other side of the kitchen table, keeping her eyes – and gun – trained upon the now silent hunter bound to the chair.

Hours pass. A quiet calm takes hold of the abandoned vampires' nest despite the chaos that had transpired earlier. About an hour into her careful watch of Gordon, he falls asleep, but Alex remains awake, doing her best to blink the exhaustion away. The last thing that she wants is to fall into a deep slumber and have Gordon catch her entirely off guard. No. She keeps her eyes fixed on him the entire time, his words from earlier replaying in her head like a broken record.

I heard what happened to your Mom.

Despite her best efforts to fight it, nausea settles in the pit of her stomach and there are a few times when she thinks that she will have to leap to her feet and out of the house to find somewhere private for her to spew her guts up, but she suppresses the urge every time, forcing her mind to think of something happier and more pleasant than the memories resurfacing thanks to Gordon's words.

It's messed up what she went through.

But with the sick feeling, there also comes an inkling of nervousness. Alex has never spoken about what had happened to anyone. Even those closest to her – Isla, Noah, Ellen – had only ever managed to pry a few words from her once in a blue moon regarding what had happened that night. She'd kept it close to her chest and figured that it would remain that way unless she spoke to any of her loved ones about the incident. Until now, that is. Gordon's words prove that to some extent, he knows what had happened and she understands that hunter's talk. Word can spread throughout the hunting community like fucking wildfire, but there shouldn't be anyone alive – aside from herself – that should know the full extent of what had happened. The pity that had been lining Gordon's features as he shared his condolences indicates that he knows some of the details and it's enough to make her want to flee for the hills. If he knew, then how many other hunters did as well?

A figure suddenly stops beside her, though she doesn't have to turn to know who it is. Like Alex, Dean had also been keeping a close eye on the hunter strapped to the chair across the room, although he had chosen to pace back and forward along the length of the kitchen table, his eyes never once straying from Gordon.

Until now, that is. She can feel the apple-green orbs boring into the side of her head as he gruffly asks, "You good?"

She swallows, her mouth feeling as dry as sandpaper. "Fine."

It's a lie and they both know it. It's enough for Dean to push, "You sure about that?"

She can only manage a nod of her head this time, afraid that if she opened her mouth, then her tongue would betray her.

A beat of silence. Then; "Is she dead?"

Alex fights the urge to drop her gaze down to her free, small hand resting in her lap. Instead, her grip on the gun tightens and she does her best to keep her pointed chin raised high. "Yes," she steely replies, knowing perfectly well who it was that Dean is talking about.

Sensing that was all he was going to get from her, Dean thankfully dropped the subject. Resuming his pacing, he makes it halfway down the length of the table before he pauses, tilting his head to the side and half-looking at her over his shoulder.

"Thanks for coming back."

And that was that. A few more silent hours pass, and it isn't long before the sun starts to rise, shading the farmhouse in a golden glow that seeps through the curtains, promising a warm and sunny day ahead. Gordon wakes up as the light first hits his face, but he doesn't utter a single word. Nor does he spare Dean or Alex a second glance. He only keeps his mouth pressed tightly together, his dark eyes glued to the door that Sam and Lenore had vanished through earlier in the night.

The youngest Winchester in question returns an hour after the sun rises, the familiar purr of Alex's engine creeping closer and closer to the farmhouse, before stopping altogether. Two minutes later, a tired but relieved Sam walks into the kitchen, his eyes darting from Gordon tied to the chair, the gun in Alex's hand, and Dean's split lip, a look of uncertainty flashing across his face.

"Did I miss anything?"

"Eh," Dean shrugs. "Not much."

"Did you get Lenore out OK?" Alex asks.

"Yeah. They all did," Sam says, directing the words to Gordon whose jaw clenches at the news.

"Good," Alex says, before pocketing her gun and pulling herself to her feet, not bothering to hide the small groan that falls from her lips as she stretches her arms above her. Four hours was a long time to sit in a chair. "Then I guess our work here is done."

Dean hums in agreement, before striding closer to a still-silent Gordon. "How're you doing there, Gordie? You need to tinkle yet?"

Gordon seethes. If looks could kill, Dean would well and truly be six feet underground right now.

But Dean remains unbothered. "Alright. Well, get comfy. We'll call someone in two or three days and have them come out and untie ya. So, I guess this is goodbye. We'll it's…it's been real."

He moves to turn away, making Alex believe that he's done with him. But Dean swings back around faster than blinking and punches Gordon across the face so hard that a sickening crack fills the air and Gordon – and his chair – go flying back, landing with a heavy crash on the floor.

"OK," Dean sniffs. "I'm good now. We can go."

Sam chuckles, and Alex can't help but smirk at the now unconscious hunter at Dean's feet but says nothing as she moves to follow the brothers out of the kitchen leaving a battered and bruised Gordon in their wake.

The fresh air hits her like a blast, and the brightness from the sun has Alex squinting her tired, almond-shaped eyes, having been stuck in the relatively dark house for some a long time. A yawn splits her mouth from ear to ear, and the exhaustion hits her like a wave. Still, she manages to clamber down the steps behind the brothers without tripping over her own two feet, but she knows that as soon as she gets back to the motel she's going to have a long, hot shower and have the best power nap of her life.

Dean suddenly stops in front of her almost Alex to go crashing into his leather-clad back, but she manages to step to the side at the last minute and see that he is looking at a confused Sam with guilt written plainly over his face.

"Clock me one," Dean says, much to Alex's and Sam's surprise.

"What?"

"C'mon. I won't even hit you back. Let's go."

Alex quirks a brow.

When Sam hesitates, Dean insists, "Let's go! You get a freebie, so c'mon!"

"You look like you just went twelve rounds with a block of cement, Dean. I'll take a rain check."

"Oh, c'mon don't be li –"

But Dean never finishes his sentence. Without hesitating, Alex swings her left arm and slams her fist into the side of his face, sending him sprawling to the ground at her feet.

Sam cries out in surprise, but Alex only sadistically grins as she wrings out her hand, not even really feeling the sting in her knuckles due to the immense satisfaction caused by seeing Dean hit the ground like a log. "Wow," she drawls. "I don't know about you, but I feel better already."

Sam laughs, and it's enough to make Dean recover from the hit and pull himself to his feet, moaning as he does so. Rubbing at his likely tender jaw – Alex knows that a bruise will form within the hour or so – he swears as his plump lips curl back. "You crazy bitch!"

"What? You deserve it," she argues. "You fucking promised me that we wouldn't work with other hunters, and the first case we stumble on and you're already begging to work with that whack job in there."

"Obviously I didn't know he was a whack job at first, did I?!"

"Doesn't matter. You still broke your word."

All the humour fades from Sam's face. Likely recalling their conversation back at the motel room the previous night regarding her hanging around despite Dean going back on his word, he asks, "Does that mean… does that mean that you're leaving then?"

Not having an immediate answer for him, she casts her gaze to the fields beyond them. She should leave. They've already proven to her that they can't really be trusted. They play by their own rules, and it wouldn't matter if she had fifty more conditions for them; they would and could break every one of them if they really wanted to. Fuck, Dean had already done so within the first week of them working together.

She could go back to the motel, have a nap, and then leave them in the dust, venturing out on her own. It was that easy and quick, that she could be gone by ten o'clock that morning.

But where would she go? Back to Jackson, left waiting there until Yellow Eyes decided to come for her? Out on the road again, finding case after case to fill that dark hole inside of her that has been there for the past three or so years, keeping her mind busy and distracted from the real problem at hand? Out to find Yellow Eyes, only to either come back disappointed or not come back at all.

She sighs, running a few fingers through her hair. She really didn't have any clue as to where she was heading.

Dean suddenly steps forward, and she turns towards him to see that the animosity has faded from his face and has been replaced with a sincerity that she hasn't seen before. "Look, I fucked up, alright? I shouldn't have worked with Gordon. You've got every right to leave, and we're not going to stop you if you go," he says, ignoring the noise of protest that Sam makes at this. "But if you decide to stay, then I promise no other hunters. None. Not until the Yellow-Eyed bastard has been put down."

She tilts her head, mulling over his words. Yellow Eyes dead – the one thing that she wants most in the world. And he's offering it to her. "You promise we'll kill him?" she quietly asks.

"I promise," he says. "We'll find him, and we'll kill him. Together."

She purses her lips. "And no other hunters?"

"None," Sam promises. "Unless you say otherwise."

She snorts. That wouldn't be a problem in the slightest. "Fine. I'll stay."

Sam doesn't bother to hide the relieved grin at her words, and it almost makes her want to mirror the action herself. Almost. Instead, she only holds out one of her hands towards Sam. Understanding what she means, he happily hands her the keys to her car. "C'mon. It's been a long night. Let's get back to the motel. You're gonna need to ice that," she adds, nodding towards Dean's jaw.

"Yeah, no shit," he grumbles, eliciting a chuckle from Sam, the three of them moving towards the car. "I'll tell you one thing, Queenie. You've got a mean right hook."

She falters in her step, but the brothers don't notice as they continue treading forward, words flowing back and forth between them as they recounted the night just gone and everything that had transpired within it.

Alex glances down at the knuckles that she had just sent flying into Dean's face. There's dried blood and bruises across the pale skin, almost covering the faint scars that had faded over time.

You've got a mean right hook.

She closes her eyes, seeing the dark, flowing hair, thick lashes framing round, chocolate brown eyes that matched her own, and a smile so warm that it could make even a stranger stop and stare. A face she thinks about every single day, despite her best efforts not to.

Of course, she had a mean right hook. She had a great teacher, after all.

Shaking her head, she rids her head off any more troubled thoughts and follows after the Winchester brothers.