Desolation Comes Upon the Sky

The Great Escapist

So I just finished the season 12 finale, and ... oh man (don't worry no spoilers here). I know I've been toting my excitement for writing this season, but after that ... I honestly don't know what I'm going to do with Alex. It'll be interesting for sure.

Anyways, speaking of finales, we're two chapters away. I'll try and put both up next week. Fingers crossed :)

...

April 29th, 2014

Lebanon, Kansas

Wings flittered through the air as Alex spun around, shoes squeaking against the wooden floor as her fingers gripped the basketball tightly. A foot went out to stop her turn, and once her eyes found the basket, the ball was in the air. It hit the backboard with a thud before rolling around the rim and falling off to the side, thudding against the wooden floorboards, and Alex's shoulders dropped.

"Strike one, Bryant." Dean's voice had her turning to find the Winchester leaning up against the doorway, arms folded across his plain black shirt, and heat flushed across the angel's cheeks at his teasing.

"My leg almost buckled," she lied in an attempt at some defense. "Shut up."

Dean flashed her a grin, noticing her obvious deceit, but he refrained from calling her out. "Speaking of," he asked instead, "how's it holding up? You look pretty steady out there."

"It's healing up really well." Alex let the ball roll over to the far wall, and she crossed the gym to stand in front of Dean. "It just aches a little bit now and then. Looks like melting down an angel blade cuts back on some of its bite. How ... how's Sam doing?"

"He's getting worse." Dean's face darkened, and he glanced over his shoulder towards the stairs leading downwards. "I've got some soup on the stove — an old recipe of Dad's. It's probably done by now if you want some."

"You know, I could go for some food right about now. And my leg could probably do with some rest." Alex followed Dean out of the gym and down towards the kitchen. She heard Sam cough from within the library, and she cast a sympathetic glance towards the direction in which he lay. They hadn't taken a case since the family of djinns, too busy searching for Kevin Tran, and even though they had only been looking for barely more a week, Sam's condition had worsened exponentially.

The hot tang of warm cayenne pepper burned at her nose the minute she stepped into the kitchen, and the angel hummed in delight. "That smells really good," she praised, pawing through the spices that decorated the kitchen counter. "When did you go out and get all this stuff?"

"A couple hours ago when you were buried in that book downstairs." Dean filled up a white ceramic bowl before he handed the large wooden spoon over to Alex. "Soup's a fix-all for sickness, right?"

Alex quickly ladled the thin orange liquid into her own dish, letting out a wordless noise of agreement. She followed Dean out through the library to find Sam hunched over in one of the chairs surrounding the large, plexiform table with the map of the world. A coarse, green Men of Letters blanket was draped across his shoulders, and despite his flushed cheeks, the hair on his arms stood on end. "Alright, here we go." Dean set the tray of soup down in front of his brother. "John Winchester's famous cure-all kitchen sink stew. There you go. Enough cayenne pepper in there to burn your lips off, just like Dad use to make."

Alex sat down across from the younger Winchester, but Sam didn't even look up. He only pushed the tray away and pawed through the pile of documents in front of him with glazed eyes.

Dean frowned, but he picked up the spoon. "Yeah, we gonna do the whole airplane thing with the spoon?" he asked, forced humor in his voice in an attempt to elicit any response from his brother, but when nothing came, he dropped the spoon back down onto the tray. "When was the last time you ate?"