Desolation Comes Upon the Sky

Man's Best Friend with Benefits

February 10th, 2014

Lebanon, Kansas

Alex stretched out on the bunker floor, wings spread out and pressed into the warm stone. The lights flickered in a soft, comforting fashion above her head, and the young angel felt her eyes drift close. The bunker was quiet; not a single soul marred the emptiness of its hallways. The angel was alone, spread out across the library floor.

The Winchesters were on the road, still returning from Idaho and the first trial. They were destined to arrive at the bunker in the next hour, and Alex had no intention of moving before then. She was comfortable, dozing somewhere between thought and rest, a state of mind she hadn't been in since ... since Castiel.

The angel turned her gaze up towards the ceiling, and her feathers dragged across the stone as she shifted. "Castiel?" Her voice echoed off the barren walls. "Please answer me." She paused, waiting, but nothing came. Alex closed her eyes, focusing harder on her prayer, forcing it out across the metaphysical plane. "It's been a month, Cas. Are you okay? Are you even alive?" Her throat tightened around her words, and she blinked back unbidden tears. "Where are you?" The fear of his death suddenly spiked through her, now that it was spoken aloud, reverberated through her chest and wings, gripping at her heart with its icy claws. "Please, Castiel. You promised ... and I miss you."

Alex?

Alex scrambled into a sitting position at the prayer of her name, but her shoulders slumped when she recognized the voice. Dean.

Alex? We're in St. Louis right now, and we need you ASAP, okay?

The young angel shakily rose to her feet, and, after shaking out her wings, she took off out of the bunker and into the sky. However unhappy she was with Dean's untimely interruption, she couldn't help the feeling that he was offering a much needed distraction from Castiel's absence. Her heart pounded in her chest, still fearful of the sudden and very real thought of the seraph's death, and she forced her wings to go faster.

Alex found the Winchesters easily, and she landed behind Dean in the parking lot of a small motel. "What's wrong?"

"I'll tell you what's wrong." Dean turned from the trunk, his bag slung over his shoulder, and he shot his brother a disapproving glance. "Sam thinks Shemp was a funnier stooge than Curly."

"That would be because he was," the taller Winchester shot back. "I'm sorry, but I thought Curly's work was too obvious."

Alex frowned. Dean had called her in to settle an argument about The Three Stooges? "I thought you were in trouble," she reprimanded before she turned to Sam, arms folded across her chest. "But Dean's right. Curly was by far the better Stooge."

Indignation made Sam's brow furrow, but, faced with the two of them, he only shook his head. "Whatever," he conceded, not giving in but not willing to keep arguing.

"So why are we in Missouri?" Alex followed the Winchesters into the motel room and took a seat on the furthest bed. "You were supposed to be in Kansas."

"Change of plans." Dean dropped his bag beside the other bed. "An old friend called in a favor." A look at his brother accompanied his words, and Alex picked up a note of displeasure in his tone.

Sam frowned over at Dean, and he set his own bag down on the bed next to Alex. "We own him this much, Dean. It won't hurt just to check it out."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Why?" he questioned. "The guy saved our lives once, Sammy. It's not like he —"

"What, Dean? Not like he saved our lives?" Sam turned to look down at Alex. "James Frampton is an old friend. A cop. He texted us last night asking for help. I assumed it was work-related." He watched as Alex tipped her head, patiently waiting for him to explain the 'he saved our lives' part, and with a nod, he complied. "He worked with us on a case three or so years ago," he explained. "A, uh, lunatic alchemist after you were mauled by that werewolf."