A/N: Here we go.

Appendix D

Section F

Alex, Age 18

Ghosted

A solid, satisfying series of clicks echoed through the bunker as Dean slid the last pieces of his handgun back into place.

"Well, that's mine done," he said.

"Oh, come on, Dean, I've got like five still to go," Sam complained.

"I trust yah' to get it done right," Dean replied.

"Not the point I was trying to make," Sam came back.

Dean chuckled as he packed his cleaned weapons into a duffle and zipped it shut. "Just put a Post-It on the ones you didn't get to; we can do them tomorrow."

Sam rolled his eyes and went about putting away his projects.

"Alex said she was going to come help, didn't she?" Sam asked. "She never came out."

"She didn't, did she?" said Dean. "And she was really quiet at dinner."

"She's been like that all week," Sam added. "It's weird."

"Yeah…." Dean looked down the hallway thoughtfully. "I'll go put these away, then check on her."

"'Kay," said Sam.

Alex's door was open a crack when Dean arrived. Through the opening he could see his daughter lying on her bed on top of the sheets with her back to the door. He checked his watch, wondering if it had gotten later than he thought, but it was barely after eight thirty. Cautiously, he scooched the door open, knocking lightly. Alex glanced over her shoulder.

"Hey," she said as she turned back on her side.

"Hey," Dean responded. "Just checking on yah'. You didn't come out for cleaning."

"Oh, sorry," Alex said. She hauled herself into a sitting position against her pillows with a sniff. "I guess I forgot."

Dean came over and sat on the edge of the bed. "Something bothering you?" he asked.

Alex looked sheepishly at him, then stared sadly at her phone where she held it propped against her knees. "It's nothing. It's dumb."

Dean tapped her leg pointedly. "Come on, tell me."

Alex sighed. "Logan's ghosting me."

Dean looked confused. "He's… what?"

Alex shook her head. "Sorry—confusing for us, I know. He hasn't texted me back in a week."

"Seriously?" Dean was taken aback.

"Yeah! It's been like a whole week and he hasn't replied even once! Look!" Alex turned her phone around and held it out to her father. She got a little too close and Dean had to lean back to bring the screen into focus.

Sure enough, the time stamp on the last message from Logan was almost exactly a week ago. There was a cluster of texts from Alex following, each on a different day: Hey, did you get my last text? … Do you want to get dinner tomorrow? I'm coming into town anyway. … Hey, are you okay? You haven't responded. … Dude, what is going on? Do you not like me anymore or something? … Logan, you piece of shit, this is not how you break up with someone! … Please, Logan, what did I do? This isn't fair…. As he glimpsed these messages, Dean felt a pang of sympathy and at the same time his blood pressure rose. A second later, Alex turned her phone back to herself.

"I just, I don't get it," Alex continued. "We weren't even fighting or anything. He just dropped out of contact. And it's not like his phone broke; he would have told me about that some other way. He just… stopped texting me back." She threw her phone into the comforter, crossed her arms viciously, and plopped back against the headboard.

She looked angry, but Dean could tell she was hiding a lot of pain behind her glower.

"Well," Dean said, coming to his feet, "I sure was hoping I wouldn't have to do this, but I warned him, so… I'm going to go kill him."

"Like, you're actually going to go over there and kill him?" Alex looked surprised.

"Yup."

"Uh, not if I do first!" Alex popped off her bed.

"Well, all right, then," Dean nodded. "Family hit. Won't be the first time.

"Did you clean your gun?"

"No, I was going to do that tonight," Alex replied.

"Alex, yah' gotta clean your gun!" Dean chided.

"It's fine! I cleaned her like three weeks ago!"

"Yeah, but how many times have you fired it since then?"

"Not that much. It's fine."

They reached the front room of the bunker where Sam was just picking up the last of the cleaning tools. He looked up, mildly concerned at the sight of his brother and niece striding purposefully out of the hallway.

"Hey. What's up?" he asked.

"We're going to go kill Logan. That's what's up," Dean answered.

"Oh, God. What did he do?" Sam asked.

"He hasn't texted me back in a week," Alex said, pulling on her jacket.

"He ghosted you? What the Hell is wrong with him?" Sam bit off.

"That's what we're going to find out—wait, how do you know that term?" Dean asked, looking surprised. Then he shook his head and continued; "Doesn't matter. You want to come?"

Sam swayed on the edge of decision for a moment. "I think if I come with, I'll be tempted to try and stop you from actually killing him, and I don't really want to do that, so…."

"Suit yourself," said Dean. "We can take care of it."

"Let me know how it goes," Sam said as they headed for the door.

"Will do," Dean called back.

The Impala rumbled to a stop in front of a gaunt farmhouse. It was situated cozily on a postage stamp of land amidst endless cattle pasture. A very unassuming structure, the windows were small and it possessed a run-down porch. The yard lacked any gardens or shrubbery, and the lawn was overgrown and browned due to the last few weeks of drought.

"This is the place, huh?" Dean looked at it skeptically.

"Yeah," Alex replied. "They don't get out much."

They climbed out of the vehicle.

"Now Dad, please let me go and handle this first," Alex begged. "I don't want him beaten to a pulp before I hear his explanation."

Dean was rather displeased about this request, his brow furrowed and his lips tight. "All right," he growled. "But I'll be right here, so just give me a holler when you're ready for me to pop a cap in his ass."

"You'll have to be a quicker draw than me," Alex replied with disgruntlement.

Turning toward the house, she took a deep breath, then made her way over to the door. Dean crossed his arms and his ankles as he leaned against the Impala and watched her go.

Alex ran through the thousand things she wanted to say in her head: What is wrong with you? What is wrong with me? How could you be so selfish? What made you do this? Why don't you just talk to me? Her thoughts faded, though, as she noticed the envelopes crammed into the mailbox by the door. She glanced over to the detached garage; yup, their cars were there…. So they were home but they weren't getting their mail that was right outside their front door?

Then she caught the faintest whiff of an odor. It was so mild she couldn't name it at first, but as she neared the porch steps and the scent grew stronger she realized what it was. A very familiar smell to her; rotting flesh.

Dean saw her stop, then turn slowly back toward him, her face touched by concern, her nose wrinkled as she sniffed the air. They made eye contact, and he knew they had just flipped the switch from running a personal errand to going into battle. She waved to him to come over as she pulled her gun from her waistband. Without hesitation, Dean was off the Impala, jogging quietly over as he drew his own weapon. He noticed the smell, too, as he came to his daughter's side.

"Shit," he breathed.

They mounted the steps as soundlessly as they could given the crumbling boards. Alex reached the door first and stopped. It was ever so slightly ajar. Holding her gun at the ready, she reached up to push it open. Dean put a hand out to stop her and guide her away, taking up position to go through first. Alex crouched at the ready at his flank.

Dean slowly pressed the door open. Instantly, the stench of decay became intensified a hundredfold. They both tried their best not to gag, but it was a challenge. They made their way into the living room, rapidly checking every corner for danger. As far as they could tell, the room was empty of threats.

Then they saw them. Two bloated, fly-infested corpses splayed out on the floor. Huge pools of blood—now black and tacky from age—had puddled underneath them from what appeared at first glance to be gunshot wounds.

"Oh, God…," said Alex in hushed tones. "I… I think those are Logan's parents, Jane and Don…. I barely recognize them…."

"Stay close," Dean said quietly.

They moved carefully through the rest of the house, checking each room. It was terribly silent, without a trace of any disturbance. When at last they reached the room at the end of the upstairs hall, Alex hung back a step.

"That's Logan's room," she whispered.

Dean watched her for a beat. Ever since they'd taken her back, he had known she'd have to deal with something like this at some point; some tragic, bloody, violent loss. It was hard to avoid as a hunter. Nonetheless, he couldn't help but wish that she would have been one of the lucky ones, who never had to bare witness to a loved one reduced to lifeless gore. He'd seen what it did to people, including his brother, and he'd experienced it himself. And he hated that she was about to endure this pain.

"Ready?" he asked her, solemn but firm.

Alex's eyes were wide with fear and glossed with disbelief, but she nodded.

Dean opened the door and quickly checked all four corners of the room for an enemy, with none evident. Then he slowly lowered his gun as he laid eyes on the body of the young man on the carpet.

Alex entered close behind, saw her boyfriend dead on the floor, and burst into tears. "Logan!" She fell to her knees beside his body.

Through her blurred vision, she took in his pale countenance. By some grotesque form of luck, he had not degraded as much as his parents. He was laid out simply, as if he had rolled onto his back and fallen asleep, eyes closed, lips parted minutely. There was not as much blood on him and around his body as the corpses downstairs. The bullet had gone straight into his heart and stopped it from pumping long before he bled out.

Alex wished her heart could stop as suddenly. Right now it felt as if it was trying to rip it's way out of her chest, and upon failing began collapsing in upon itself. Her head was not much better: it seemed to be filled with empty space, but at the same time buzzed like a disturbed nest of wasps. And somehow all her senses were working overtime: she saw, smelled, felt, heard, tasted everything sharply and precisely, but it was all happening somewhere far away.

All thoughts had disappeared but for one word; Why?

So she sat and cried.

Dean let her. At this point there was no apparent danger in the house, so he didn't try to quiet her and allowed her the time to release her feelings. He tried to keep his distance; he knew sometimes it was painful to be touched when experiencing such shock and despair.

He couldn't hold out for long. He felt her grief as knots in his stomach, and it made his skin crawl not to comfort her. He sat down on the floor beside Alex, facing her, and put a hand on her shoulder. She collapsed into his chest. He wrapped her tightly in his arms as she sobbed and began to rock her just a little.

"Oh, baby girl, I am so sorry," he said softly. "I know… this is the worst part…."

He felt a wave of sorrow. It was mostly in sympathy with his daughter, but as he looked over at the dead youth, he realized some of it was for Logan as well. He had hated the kid so much because of the implications of his romantic involvement with Alex, but he had proven Dean's suspicions wrong at every turn. Logan had been too caring, too compassionate… and too young.

So Dean held onto his daughter as she rode out her flood of emotions….

It took a long time for Alex to settle down. At last, she took a deep, shaky breath and pulled away to sit on her own strength again. She sniffed, looking tired and gazing into empty space somewhere to the left of Logan's body.

"Can I have a minute alone with him?" she asked without shifting her eye line.

"Yeah, of course," Dean replied. "I should have a look around anyway. Just shout if you need me, okay?"

Alex nodded.

Dean laid a kiss on the side of her head amongst her dark hair, then got to his feet and exited the room.

About a minute passed before Alex could gather herself, but finally she dared to look at Logan. She felt tears threaten to fall once more as she took in his peaceful face. Her breath quickened as she tried to keep from coming apart again, but she somehow kept herself together.

Then she managed to speak. "I'm sorry I was so mad at you for so long. I feel so guilty for feeling that way… which is stupid because, you know, how could I know? But actually… how could I not? This is… exactly what happens around my family. People just… die…. So why didn't I think to come check on you? Why didn't I—," her voice broke, not just with sorrow but with anger, "—why didn't I protect you? Why wasn't I there when you needed me and all the things I know how to do?" She looked away, her cheeks freshly dampened. "But maybe I shouldn't have been there at all. I dragged you into all this danger when I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have brought someone so… kind and gentle and innocent… into the darkness with me….

"And that's what bugs me the most, actually…. How could I assume… that you would stop talking to me like that, hurt me like that… when you've never, ever done anything to me to make me feel that way, ever? Why would I think that? Why would I think that badly of you? When that's just not you at all?" She shook her head slowly, closing her eyes. "I should have known. I should have known you were in trouble and done something about it. But I didn't and now you've paid the price. The ultimate price. And it's all my fault.

"Well, don't worry, Logan. This won't happen to anyone else. No one. Ever again."

She took one last long look at her first love, sadness still heavy in her eyes, but her expression had grown hard and determined. Her tears had dried up.

Then she stood and left without a single look back.

Dean had patrolled the house, searching for anything beyond the ordinary. He had found no sulfur, nor ectoplasm. The house was free of any ritualistic objects, writings, or symbols—he hadn't even found a crucifix. He had trudged out to the Impala (shooting off a text to Sam as he had done so: Might be a while. Sit tight. Talk when we're back.) to grab the EMF reader and scanned the whole building with barely a twitch of the needle or a flicker of the lights. At one point he had found a bullet imbedded in the wall, having passed through one of Logan's parents. He had been able to tell without digging it out that it was a perfectly normal bullet.

He met Alex in the hallway shortly after she exited Logan's room.

"What did you find?" she asked.

In a split second, Dean noted the change in her demeanor. He could chalk it up to grief, but this wasn't just detachment or dissociation. One couldn't call it cold, more… stony. It was a familiar look to him. And he couldn't blame her; he knew exactly how she was feeling. And he knew he couldn't sway her from it, that she'd have to process this new reality on her own over time.

"Nothing," he said.

Alex looked confused. "Nothing?"

"Yeah, nothing."

"Then… what did this?"

Dean shrugged. "You mean who."

Alex paused, her jaw slack and her brow furrowed in disbelief. "That can't be right…."

"Humans make the worst monsters," Dean said. "Come on. Let's go outside and call the cops."

He stepped forward and placed a guiding hand on her back to usher her toward the stairs. As he did, he approached Logan's door, and the EMF reader gave the tiniest whine in his pocket.

He froze.

Alex kept walking, too deep in her fog to notice, but Dean dug the reader out and inspected it. It had gone quiet again. But he doubted this state. He turned to look back at Logan's room. He stepped slowly toward the entrance, holding the device before him. He even stepped over the threshold, scanning for any trace of EMF.

Nothing.

He tapped the reader.

Still nothing.

Skeptical, but hoping it had been an uncommon anomaly, he tucked the little box back into his pocket and caught up with his daughter as she made her way out of the house.

Sam had stayed up as long as he could, his phone nearby in case he received another text from his brother or niece. Ultimately, however, he had ended up passed out on the couch. It was the sound of the bunker's door opening that awoke him. Dean and Alex had returned.

"Hey," Sam said, scrubbing his face. He looked at his watch as he got to his feet and saw it was nearly midnight. "What happened?"

"Logan's dead," said Alex, her gaze cast down as she descended the stairs.

"What?" Sam asked. "You… you guys actually killed him?"

"No, we didn't kill him," Alex replied.

"We found Logan and his parents shot in their house," Dean elaborated.

"Oh my God," said Sam, feeling all the air go out of him. "That's why he wasn't responding... Alex, I'm so sorry."

Alex finally made eye contact with her uncle; in that split second she looked exhausted more than anything. Sam knew the turmoil she was in, how tiring it could be. He felt a dozen old aches resurface and hated that his niece was feeling anything like it fresh and raw right now. He intercepted her as she crossed the front room and they embraced.

"I know how hard this is," Sam said to her quietly. "But you're strong; you can handle it. Even though you shouldn't have to."

He felt her head nod briefly against his shoulder.

She pulled away then and made for the hallway. "I'm tired," she said. "I'm going to bed."

"Okay," Sam said, a little perplexed at her reaction. But as he watched Alex leave, he realized what was happening.

He sighed. "Already sworn off love, huh?"

"Yup, seems like it," said Dean, coming to stand by his brother.

"Man," Sam said, "I'd hoped she'd have a little more time than that."

"Yeah, me, too," Dean agreed. "I don't know, maybe she'll get it back someday. But for now… we'll just have to leave her be." Then he gave Sam a backhanded snap on the arm, making the younger jump in surprise. "Don't pester her."

"What?" Sam asked, taken aback.

"Go all touchy-feely family therapist on her," said Dean.

"I wasn't going to do that, Dean!" Sam retorted. "I know that won't help this time."

"No," said Dean. "Not with stuff like this."

They both watched the hallway where Alex had disappeared. They were preparing for the balancing act they were about to perform over the next weeks and months. Alex had experienced tragic loss before, but she had grown up a lot since then. It was difficult to predict how she would behave and what she might need from them as she processed this experience.

"So what got 'em?" Sam asked, breaking the silence with the question that had been nagging him.

"Far as I can tell, people," Dean answered.

"Really?" said Sam.

"I know, right?" said Dean. "That's what took us so long. We had to call the cops once we knew someone human did this. Sit and give statements and all that crap….

"I need a beer. Want one?"

"Yeah, I wouldn't mind one." Sam followed Dean as he headed into the kitchen.

"Seriously, there wasn't any EMF or sulfur or… anything?" Sam persisted.

"Nope," Dean said, handing his brother a bottle and twisting off the cap of his own. "It was the picture of a normal murder. Well, multiple murders. If you can call that normal."

Sam sat at the table and rubbed his forehead. "God, that's awful. Poor Alex. How did she handle it?"

"For what it was, she was a trooper," said Dean, seating himself, too. "Kept her head, helped me clear the house. I mean… she had to have known what was coming and she didn't really… let it get to her until it was a sure thing… when we found him."

"I can't believe he's gone," said Sam. "He was just a kid. And how come no one noticed they all disappeared for a week? And who would have taken them out? The whole family?"

"I don't know," replied Dean. "When we drove up, Alex said they 'kept to themselves.' Makes you wonder if there was something hinky going on with them. What they might have been wrapped up in."

"No kidding," Sam said. "Jesus… to think, someone we know gets killed and it has nothing to do with our whole hunting shtick."

"Yeah, bizarre," Dean agreed.

They sat in silence for a moment, contemplating this unorthodox turn of events.

Then Sam raised his drink in his brother's direction. "To Logan and his family."

"To Logan and his family," Dean echoed, clinking his bottle against Sam's. "May they rest in peace."

A/N: Well, sure seems like the end of the whole 'Daughter's First Boyfriend' storyline.

Lolololol….

Nah', I'm sure you caught on….