"You took away my world."
- Fastball
"I see your giant snickers bar and raise you a cup of room temp hospital Jello," Dean said, plunking the aforementioned item down onto his bedside tray.
Alex gave him a deadly serious gaze over the top of her playing cards. "Dangerous stakes, Winchester. You sure?"
He matched her theatrics with a challenging eyebrow shrug. "I'm sure. Hit me."
She laid down her hand with a triumphant smirk and he grimaced as she announced, "Full house. Boom!"
"Dammit." Dean sighed, throwing down his hand in disappointment. "Three of a kind. You win this round, Pipsqueak."
"Ah... victory..." Alex said with a note of comic uncertainty. She took the Jello and squinted at the wiggly red substance—her hard-earned prize—as Dean sighed restlessly and settled back against the pillows.
"I am so damn ready to get outta here." He sounded mostly exasperated but a little forlorn too.
Alex glanced at him sympathetically. It had been about a week and a half since he'd been here at the hospital. "Well, the doc said if all the tests came back normal, we can leave tomorrow." He impatiently rolled his eyes. "One more day. We got this," she said through a chuckle as she picked up the playing cards and began to smoothly shuffle them. "Another round?"
Dean shook his head. "Nah, I'm poker-ed out."
Alex stopped for a second. "Okay, who are you and what'd you do with Dean?" She received a glancing smile from her brother. Honestly, she was tired of poker too. There had been lots of poker, blackjack, and bad daytime TV the past week or so. But there'd also been sleep which was nice. She'd been here almost every day and night—bringing in eats from fast food places, fussing over him, and just keeping him company. She would leave when visiting hours were over and then sneak back in at night to sleep in the chair beside him. After his breakdown the first night there, Alex knew that he needed her there, even if it was just her physical presence. That, and she didn't want to be alone. They'd always been close to each other like that. Sam too, once.
They hadn't brought up any of it again—not the apocalypse, not Alastair, not Castiel, not Dean's feelings. Alex knew that sooner or later she'd have to tell him what really happened to Alastair. He wasn't going to like it. As if reading her mind, Dean cleared his throat. "So, heard from Sammy today?"
Alex pursed her lips to the side, her good mood fading. She stuck the cards back in their box roughly. "Called earlier and said he's on his way back." She felt sour recalling how their brother had left almost a week ago on a whim. Bobby had come to visit Dean and mentioned he was headed to Rapid City next to take care of a ghost. Sam had all but jumped at the opportunity. In Alex's eyes, leaving when Dean needed him most.
"Why didn't you go with him, again?" Dean asked. "Pretty sure they could've used your help. And at least you wouldn't be stuck in this dump."
"Those two didn't need help with one little vengeful spirit," Alex said, trying to sound lighter than she felt. She sounded false even to herself. "And I wasn't gonna leave you to be bored all by yourself."
Dean tilted his head to the side, scrutinizing her. "Okay, Al. What aren't you telling me?"
Dammit. He'd been off painkillers for a couple of days now and was really getting his clarity back. She huffed and looked down—she guessed it was time to come clean. She shrugged, reluctant. "Sam got mad at me because I wouldn't go with him. But I wasn't gonna leave you, Dean. Not now. Not after..." she trailed off, thinking better of bringing it up. "Well, he and I... we had another fight. He said I was playing favorites and he couldn't be around me... blah, blah, blah, same old crap."
Dean gave her a disappointed look. "Fighting? Again? Why didn't you tell me that like six days ago when it happened?"
Alex shrugged again guiltily. "Didn't wanna upset you while you were still recovering."
"Oh come on, I'm fine," he said, glaring at the insinuation that he was too weak to handle some bad news.
"Internal bleeding and severe head trauma aren't fine," Alex retorted, receiving a dirty look. She swallowed apprehensively. "But, since you are mostly recovered... there is something else I need to tell you." Dean got a suspicious look on his face at the tone of her voice and Alex let out a big breath, wishing she could save Dean the oncoming confusion and pain. "Ruby's knife. It didn't work on Alastair. Didn't affect him at all."
Alex could see the wheels of Dean's puzzled mind turning. He knew Alastair was dead, but they hadn't exactly told him the details. "Then how..." He trailed off, and then his expression went cold in understanding. "Not Sam...?"
"Yeah," Alex confirmed, her voice full of the sadness and confusion she felt. "Sam."
"But—but he could barely exorcise Samhain a couple of months ago," Dean protested.
"I know." There was bitterness in Alex's mouth. "I don't know how he did it. All I know is I saw him do it. He did it so easily too, Dean. Like it was a walk in the freaking park. Like he's been... practicing, or... I dunno."
"So there's something he is not telling us," Dean surmised grimly.
"I get the feeling there's a lot of things he's not telling us." There was a sad, heavy silence, and Dean, suddenly tired and haggard, rubbed his forehead.
"You shouldn't have let him go by himself up there with Bobby. Dammit, Alex. He could have finished with the job days ago for all we know, and be with Ruby, or... who knows?" His sadness was escalating into anger. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
She raised her eyebrows at him. "Look at the monitor. Your blood pressure just went up like ten points." Despite being reasonable, she was still getting a look of annoyance from her brother. "I did call Bobby after Sam called today. To make sure Sam was telling the truth. To make sure he'd actually been with Bobby the whole time." Now she had Dean's attention. "Bobby confirmed."
Dean looked mildly corrected then shook his head vaguely. "Sad that we're at a place where we have to do that crap." He glanced around the room unhappily. "When we get out of here... I'm halfway tempted to go to Timbuktu. Where Ruby can't get to Sam and where the damn angels can't get you or me. Surround ourselves with hex bags, good beer, cheap burgers... watch the world go to shit and stop worrying about it being our fault." Alex said nothing and watched her brother with thorough understanding of what he was feeling. "I'm tired of it," he said, growing quiet. "All of it. I just want..." He trailed off, his expression strange and lost. "I dunno what I want." He looked down into his lap and Alex could see how burdened he felt. He shook his head. "Just not this."
Three Weeks Later
Alex Remington woke up to her cell phone alarm ringing as it usually did at six a.m. She swung her feet over the edge of the bed and pushed off into another day. She spent the first few minutes of her morning meditating and practicing yoga as she did every day. After showering and drying her hair, she paged through her closet, picking a pencil skirt, cherry red flats, and a gray cardigan to wear over a pressed white blouse. She applied her makeup—foundation, mascara, eyeliner, gloss—then combed serum into her hair and straight ironed it, sweeping it into a low ponytail and then completing the look with a thin headband. She checked herself over in the mirror, satisfied that she looked polished and professional as usual. Still, something looked off and she couldn't figure out what it was. She felt a faint sense of frustration and distaste but couldn't figure out why. Chalking it up to fatigue, she went to the kitchen of her apartment and made a cup of tea and some whole-grain toast then paired those with an organic banana. While eating, she did research for her paper that was due on Thursday, and then it was time to leave for work.
The office was only a few blocks from her apartment so she walked, keeping a brisk pace in the early morning chill. She glanced up at the towering structure of Sandover Bridge and Iron as she arrived. It was hard to believe she worked here now. She'd been hired three weeks ago, and before that had worked at a consulting firm, where work had been.... well, it was a blur now. She could barely remember what she did there. Frowning, she made a mental note that she needed to start taking a multivitamin. A person her age shouldn't have so many problems with remembering things that happened three weeks ago, and it seemed like she was having problems remembering things a lot lately.
She rode the elevator up with a bunch of other business people, including one guy who was a little taller than her. He was dressed nicely, with short brown hair and handsome features, bright green eyes. For some reason, she was not attracted to him even though he was verifiably handsome. He smiled politely at her, and she returned it tightly. Men that good looking were always jerks in her experience. She hopped off on her floor—technical support—and entered the reception area. Her domain. She set her things down on her desk and took her seat, switching on her computer and getting her earpiece out of the drawer. Employees were filing in now, dressed in the pale-yellow polo uniform shirts. She was secretly glad she got to wear what she wanted. After all, fashion was basically her life.
The computer chimed as it finished turning on and she smiled at the desktop picture of fluffy white kittens playing with each other. She loved cats. She looked at the picture a little longer, her smile fading, a weird sensation in the pit of her stomach. She loved cats... didn't she? Didn't she love cats?
"Good morning, Alex!" came a familiar voice.
"Oh, hi Sam!" Alex greeted, smiling at the latest arrival. Sam Wesson. He'd gotten hired at the same time as her. They'd hit it off in the two-day training and had discovered they both loved the Red Hot Chili Peppers, hiking, and karaoke.
Sam grinned back at her. "How good was 24 last night?"
Alex's eyes went wide. "So good, right?! Oh my god. Jack Bauer is the man."
Sam chuckled and took one of the M&Ms she kept in a bowl, popping it into his mouth. "See you at lunch?"
Alex was putting on her earpiece and flashing him a smile. "I'll be there."
With another smile, Sam headed to his cubicle. She watched him go and wondered again why she wasn't attracted to him. He was tall, built, and handsome—not to mention exceptionally nice. They got along famously like they'd always known each other. But he just didn't do anything for her. It was more like a friend or a brother vibe. Weirdly enough, she was more interested in Miller Collins, her socially awkward boss, than Sam. Speaking of the devil, in he walked dressed in his normal business suit. Over it, he wore a tan trench coat. Come to think of it, she'd never seen him out of that coat.
"Good morning Mr. Collins!" she greeted cheerily, and he acknowledged her with a glance. He was an odd guy. Mysterious, kind of. He always had a look on his face like he was slightly irked about something. He arrived to work in the mornings and shut himself in his office all day, only coming out to leave. He always watched her hawkishly, intently. Sometimes she felt like a tiny mouse under his stare. But she kind of liked that for whatever reason.
"Good morning, Alex," he replied in his deep voice, looking at her in that peevish way of his. Without further ado, he went into his office. Alex watched until the door shut, chin in her hand. She found him so intriguing. He never said more than a few words at a time, and the five o'clock shadow, the scowl, the intense stares, the bright blue eyes, the strangely boyish yet manly rakishly handsome features... something about him was so...
The phone rang, rattling her out of her daydreams. She glanced at the time on her computer screen. Eight in the morning already. Alex picked up the phone and answered in a cheery voice. "Good morning, Sandover Bridge and Iron, how may I assist you today?"
6:00 am. Wake up, do yoga, shower, dress, breakfast, walk to work. Arrive, say hi to Sam, say hi to Mr. Collins. Answer phones, redirect calls. Print memos, order supplies, refill printer ink. Clean the break room refrigerator. Answer more calls. And before Alex knew it, another day was ending.
Alex planned on staying a little later than usual that night. Mr. Collins came out of his office and stopped at her desk, looking at her through narrowed eyes. "You're still here."
She smiled up at him, hoping maybe he would smile back. "I just need to finish up a couple things... I won't be long."
His expression didn't waver in the slightest. "See you tomorrow."
He turned and left, leaving her disappointed. Sighing, she opened her purse and took out her jump drive where her paper draft would be. She was taking night classes, and this paper was due in a few hours. She didn't have the time to go home and then to campus, and would rather work here than in the creepy college library. She only had about two hours to get it done, so she set to work, hoping she wouldn't get in trouble for using company property for personal use. It was after hours, she figured, so it couldn't hurt. She noticed about twenty minutes later when the sun set that there was faint blue light coming from one cubicle not too far off. She wasn't the only one staying late.
She worked for about an hour more, polishing up the paper and hoping she never had to read or analyze Heart of Darkness ever again. She paused for a moment, wondering how she had waited until her mid-twenties to go to college. Why hadn't she started at eighteen? She couldn't recall a specific reason.
A strange sound interrupted her thoughts. Somewhere in the cubicles or maybe the break room, she heard a very strange sound. Popping, like a muffled explosion, and then a man's scream. She stood in alarm, her heart beginning to hammer. "Hello?" she called. No one answered. She entered the quiet darkness of the cubicles and saw that halfway down the huge room, the light in the break room was on. She cautiously approached the slab of light on the dark carpeted floor, frowning as she got closer, the smell of something like burned meat hitting her nostrils.
"Hello?" she called again, peeking into the break room... only to see a man's body hanging out of the microwave head-first... blood and chunks of flesh spattered inside the microwave and on parts of the floor and ceiling. Alex tilted her head to the side, grimacing in disgust. "Ugh." Then she frowned at herself, not sure how she could react so casually to such a horrific sight. She needed to call the police—and probably scream too—but as she stood there, she felt the temperature of the room drop. Her exhale made a little puff of vapor. And then in the shiny glass of the coffeepot, she thought she saw a movement behind her, a hazy reflection of an old man. She whirled, but no one was there.
A little disconcerted, she hugged her arms to herself, eyes paranoid and dodging around. "Okay, definitely time to call the cops."
Sam and Alex watched as the coroner's team wheeled the body out. People from other floors gathered in reception, watching in horrified curiosity. Beside Alex, Sam was shaking his head. "He really stuck his head in a microwave?"
"Yeah, just like I told you." Alex shook her head sadly. "He was two weeks from retiring. I was helping plan a little office party for him. He was excited about it... I don't get why he did this."
"Yeah it's all... very bizarre." Sam sounded as suspicious as she felt. Something about it wasn't normal. Wasn't natural. "Sorry you had to see all of that, Alex."
"Ah. It wasn't so bad," Alex said, drawing a surprised look from her coworker.
"Wasn't so bad?"
"Well I mean, it was horrible," she backpedaled, not wanting Sam to think she was a freak. "But I dunno, I'm fine. Not that shaken up." She frowned. "Maybe I should be worried that I feel fine." She thought about telling him about the chill in the room and the reflection she thought she saw but wasn't sure if that would make her sound crazier.
"Hey!" came a loud voice. It was the assistant floor manager, Dave. "Everyone needs to quit standing around and gawking and get to your cubicles. Yes, it's sad, but we have work to do, people."
The employees dissipated and Alex gave Sam a wan smile. "See you at lunch?" he asked halfheartedly.
"I'll be there," she confirmed, then headed up toward reception. She ran into a rushed-looking Ian—he was Sam's desk neighbor and today she almost didn't recognize him. He was wearing his uniform for once and had done the impossible: shaved, brushed his hair, and bathed too. Another bizarre thing to add to the growing list. "Morning, Ian," she greeted curiously.
"I don't have time to talk, I need to get to work," he said replied, brushing past her and making a beeline for his cubicle. Alex frowned, unable to shake the growing feeling that something was off.
"My pleasure ma'am. Thank you for calling Sandover. Goodbye." Alex disconnected the phone call and yawned restlessly. It was around lunchtime and Ian had gone up to HR about an hour ago. When he didn't come back, Sam went to go see what happened. She was feeling the midday lull coming on and was already thinking about how much she couldn't wait to get home and watch the Oprah show that would be waiting on DVR. Just then, Sam returned. From his expression, Alex could tell something was wrong and stood up. "What happened? Where's Ian?"
Sam's face was blank. "Ian stabbed himself in the neck with a pencil in the HR bathroom."
Alex blinked. "...What?!"
"Yeah."
"What the hell?" Alex covered her mouth with her hand in embarrassment. "Sorry. I don't usually swear."
"I don't know," Sam said, ignoring her apology. "He was acting all weird this morning, like all... anal-retentive and worried about work. That's not like him."
"Yeah, he seemed really weird this morning." Alex dropped her voice, leaning in. "Do you think... something is going on? I mean, two extremely weird suicides in two days?"
"I'm not sure," Sam said, but from his troubled expression, she thought that was exactly what he was thinking.
Wake up, meditate, shower, dress, breakfast, walk to work. Arrive, say hi to Sam, say hi to Mr. Collins.
Alex found herself staring blankly at her computer for most of the day, taking calls and doing her tasks in a disconnected way. She felt strange and couldn't pinpoint why. Inside, she was beginning to fear that maybe she was going crazy, that she was seeing things or imagining things. Last night she had dreamed about a vintage black car, a man in a puffy vest and flannel calling her an 'idjit', and flickering neon motel signs. She wasn't sure why the dream had stuck with her, but it was eating away at her. To distract herself, she smoothed her flowy blouse, readjusting the line where she had neatly tucked it into the waist of her skirt. She stared down at her feet, which were shoved into black heels, and then studied her manicured fingernails. Somehow, the sight of both seemed wrong.
"Alex!" Sam appeared out of nowhere. "I just got a call from Dean Smith."
"Who?" Alex asked, disconcerted at his sudden arrival and urgent tone.
"A big-time guy who works upstairs in HR. He wants to see us."
Surprised, Alex stood. "Are we in trouble? Why both of us?"
Sam lowered his voice, becoming furtive. "I think it has something to do with... with the deaths. He told me to 'bring the girl who saw the other guy's corpse.'"
At that, Alex felt a sense of adventure sparking alive. She felt herself smiling. "Okay. Well, what are we waiting for?"
In hushed excitement, the two of them ducked out of the office and onto the elevator up to the seventh floor, where they found Dean Smith's office. After Sam knocked and Dean called them in, Sam led the way into a spacious modern office. With a gray color palette and black and white photographs of famous cityscapes lining the wall, the office reeked of position and upper management. Standing behind the desk was the guy from the elevator—the yuppie douche bag guy. Alex felt a twinge of disappointment. This guy was more than likely an idiot.
"Come on in," he said, both hands on the back of his chair. "Shut the door." Dean paused a beat and looked at Sam through narrowed eyes. "So wanna tell me who the hell you are?"
Sam looked a little surprised by the direct question, and Alex answered with uncharacteristic boldness when he said nothing. "This is Sam Wesson. I'm Alex Remington. And... you called us here. Shouldn't you know who we are?" She fixed him with an expectant look.
"I've seen you in the elevator before," Dean said flippantly, looking at her for the first time. "So you're the one who saw... the body?"
"Yup. And you're the one who saw... Ian die."
"Yup," he confirmed uncomfortably and then cleared his throat. "Among other things. I, uh... so you two started working here three weeks ago, huh?"
Sam and Alex both nodded, not sure where their superior was going with this. "Yeah, me too," he said, walking over to one of his shelves. He grabbed a water bottle full of dirty-looking liquid and unscrewed the cap. "It's, uh, the Master Cleanse. You tried it? Phenomenal. Detoxes you like nobody's business."
He took a swig and Alex scoffed. "Looks disgusting."
"Oh, it is," he said, grinning.
Sam, however, wasn't interested in their trivialities. He had fixed this Dean guy with an intent gaze and stepped a little closer. "When you were in that bathroom with Ian... did you see something?"
Dean looked caught, his expression chilling in fear then softening as he tried to laugh it off. "I don't know. I don't know what I saw. I was tripping."
Sam's frown deepened. "What'd you see? You saw something... I can tell."
Dean looked uncomfortable and hesitant, and Alex's mouth hung open slightly. Somehow, she knew what he had seen. "You saw a ghost didn't you?"
At her direct question, Dean's expression showed stunned confirmation. Alex was nodding, suddenly excited, looking between Sam and Dean both, glad she could finally tell someone. "I think I saw one too! When I found Paul—" Her excitement faded as she remembered the sad reality of Paul's demise. "When I found Paul, may he, uh, rest in peace—the room got cold, like, freezing cold. And I saw this blurry reflection in the coffee pot." She had the guys' rapt attention. "So I turned around to see who it was... and no one was there. It was a ghost, wasn't it?" she asked, looking at Sam, and then Dean, hoping.
"Was it... an old white guy? Gray hair, wrinkly face?" Dean sounded like he was both dreading and eagerly awaiting her answer.
"Yeah!" Alex breathed in disbelief that she wasn't crazy, and someone else had seen the same image.
"Guys—what if these suicides aren't actually suicides?" Sam asked breathlessly, emphatically. "I mean, what if they're something... not natural?"
"Something... paranormal? Like... ghost murders?" Alex asked, her voice lowering to a whisper at the last two words.
Dean was scoffing, trying to be reasonable. "Come on guys... that sounds kind of crazy... I mean, first thing first: ghosts are real? And not only that, but they're responsible for all the dead bodies around here?"
He sat down at his desk and Sam and Alex grabbed seats across from him. "I know it sounds crazy," Sam said earnestly. "But guys... that has to be it!"
"What makes you so sure?" Dean was hesitant to jump on board.
Sam took a minute, looking for an answer. "Instinct," he finally replied, and Alex felt a chill run up her spine. That was exactly what she had been thinking too. She looked at Sam in amazement, and he looked back at her. It was like they were thinking the same exact thought.
Dean had a look on his face like reluctant agreement. "Yeah. I've, uh, got the same instinct."
"You do too, don't you Alex?" Sam asked, even though he sounded like he already knew her answer.
"Yeah, I mean, it's crazy... but I don't see what else it could be," Alex said, meaning every word.
There was a short, pensive silence. "Dean, you know those dreams I was telling you about?" Sam wet his lips. "I was dreaming about ghosts."
"Wait, what dreams?" Alex asked, puzzled, thinking of her strange dream last night.
"I dreamed that I fought ghosts, like, that it was my entire life," Sam explained.
"And that I was helping him do it," Dean added, sounding a little unenthused.
Sam got a little quiet, hesitant. "You weren't the only one, Dean... Alex, you were in the dreams too," Alex and Dean exchanged glances as Sam continued. "And then it turns out that there's a real ghost, and the three of us here, now..." He trailed off. "Coincidence?"
"So, what, your dreams are visions?" Dean was a bit sarcastic. "You some kind of psychic?"
"No!" Sam exclaimed quickly. "I mean, that would be nuts."
"Why would that be nuts?" Alex cut in, amused. "Did you guys forget the subject matter? Ghost murders?"
Dean chuckled as Sam continued. "I'm just saying something weird is definitely going on around here, right? So I've been digging around a little." Sam pulled some papers out of his bag and handed half of them over to Dean, half to Alex.
"I think I found a connection between the two guys."
"You broke into their email accounts?" Dean frowned, but before Sam could backpedal, Alex grinned at him over the printouts.
"Sam... that is so against company protocol... but... oh my god... so cool!" She was kind of starstruck.
Sam looked at Dean nervously, but Dean was busy trying to hide an impressed smile. "It is pretty badass."
"Uh, thanks," Sam said meekly, then cleared his throat. "Yeah. Okay. So it turns out Ian and Paul both got this same email telling them to report to HR, room fourteen forty-four."
"But HR's here on seven," Alex pointed out. They all shared a significant glance. "This email has something to do with the murders, right?" Alex got more excited by the second. "Guys. We have got to check this out!"
"Like right now?" Sam asked hesitantly.
"No. No, it's getting late," Dean said, although he didn't sound convinced.
Alex looked between the two of them. "Guys."
"I'm dying to check this out right now," Sam confessed, and Dean's expression showed that he was too.
"Right?" Dean was already getting to his feet.
The three of them hopped on the elevator up to the fourteenth floor and searched down the room in question. "Fourteen thirty-eight, we're getting close," Sam said as they rounded a corner. And suddenly, they heard a man scream. Breaking into a run, they found the door to 1444 locked. Sam wiggled the door handle, then without a word, drew back and kicked the door in, leaving Dean and Alex to stare in momentary awe, saying "whoa!" in unison. Sam led the way as they ran into the dark room, which looked like a computer storage unit. All the screens were on, gray static playing. The room was ice cold.
"Look!" Alex said, pointing to a man lying on the floor with a heavy shelf on top of him. Dean and Sam rushed over and began to lift the shelf off. And then, flickering into existence behind Dean, the ghost appeared: the old man from the reflection. "Dean! Look out!" Alex shouted, her eyes wide as she saw the old man fling Dean against a wall and shove Sam over. She felt herself fly backward without even being touched, and she collided with a pile of old computers. She rolled over easily as if by instinct, crouching on the ground while staring as the old man reached for the tech support employee, his hand sparking with blue lightning.
She sprang up, rushing across the distance that separated her from the man who was about to be zapped, and with a strength she didn't know she had, she lifted the heavy metal shelf off the man—but not fast enough. The ghost's finger was a fraction of an inch from the man, who was screaming in horror. And then, just in the nick of time, Dean swung a wrench at the ghost, who dissipated like a cloud of smoke. All the screens switched off, and the room went silent. The three of them stared at each other, agape. "How the hell did you lift that?" Dean asked Alex incredulously.
"I guess I'm stronger than I thought?" Alex asked, not entirely sure herself. "But never mind that, how did you know how to do that wrench thing?"
Dean shook his head, as puzzled as they were. "I got no idea."
About twenty minutes later, the three of them were settling into Dean's apartment, still reeling from their ghost encounter. "Holy crap, dude," Dean said, pacing back and forth and guzzling his Master Cleanse.
"Yeah. I could use a beer," Sam said, letting out a heavy breath.
"Oh, sorry, man. I'm on the Cleanse," Dean said, heading for his refrigerator. "I got rid of all the carbs in the house."
"You suck," Alex said, wishing she could get her hands on a Killian's Red or a Newcastle.
"So, how the hell did you know that ghosts are scared of wrenches?" Sam asked as Dean grabbed water bottles out of his refrigerator.
"Crazy, right?" Dean handed a water bottle to Alex, and then Sam. "And nice job kicking that door too. Very Jet Li of you. What are you, like a black belt or something?" He looked at Alex, his eyebrows raised. "And you, Hulk Hogan. That shelf had to weigh more than a hundred pounds."
Alex flexed her arm muscle curiously, poking the defined bicep with her index finger. "Whoa. They are kinda big. I've never noticed before. Do I work out? I don't think I work out..." She trailed off, frowning. "Just some yoga sometimes..."
Sam was in deep thought. "It's like...we've done this before."
Dean frowned. "What do you mean, before?"
"Like in a previous life?" Alex asked skeptically. "I don't know how I feel about reincarnation..."
"No," Sam said, shaking his head. "I—I just can't shake this feeling like I—like I don't belong here. You know? Like I should do something more than sit in a cubicle."
Dean chuckled. "I think most people who work in a cubicle feel that same way."
Alex, however, had a different opinion. "I think I know what you mean, Sam. I wake up in the morning and just... something's off. But I'm not sure what. I feel really foggy sometimes, like I don't even like what I like." It sounded insanely stupid when she said it out loud, and she shrugged. "Not sure how to explain it."
"No, exactly!" Sam exclaimed. "I mean, I don't like my job. I don't like this town. I don't like my clothes. I don't like my own last name." Alex nodded, hanging onto every word, feeling like he was talking for her. "I don't know how else to explain it, except that... it feels like I should be doing something else. There's just something in my blood. Like I was destined for something different. What about you? You ever feel that way?"
"You're starting to sound kind of Star Wars, there, Yoda," Alex joked. He'd lost her at the destiny stuff.
"I don't believe in destiny," Dean said, earning a look of respect from Alex. "I do believe in dealing with what's right in front of us, though."
"All right, so, what do we do now?" Sam asked.
Dean grinned. "We do what I do best, Sammy. Research."
"Okay. ...wait." Sam looked at Dean oddly. "Did you just call me Sammy?"
"Uh, did I?"
"I think you did. Yeah. Don't."
"Sorry."
Alex chuckled. "Get a room, guys."
"Shut up," the two men said in unison.
"Here's the beers, Sam." Alex plopped down a six-pack of Newcastle onto the table. Both Dean and Sam had a laptop.
Sam cracked open a beer. "You're the best, Alex. Thanks."
She sat down between them, grabbing herself a beer. "What've you guys found?"
Dean eyed the beer wistfully from the corner of his eye.
"Sure you don't want one?" Alex asked as she opened hers.
"I'm on the Cleanse," he replied dutifully, tearing his eyes away. "Anyway, I just found the best site ever. Real, actual ghost hunters."
Sam and Alex leaned their heads over, peering at Dean's screen. "These guys are genius," Dean said, a certain note of admiring in his voice. "Check it out."
An instructional video began playing starring two guys who called themselves the Ghostfacers. Alex, Sam, and Dean watched the video, hovering close to the screen in rapt attention. When it was over, they sat back in unison, silently absorbing everything they had just heard. "Okay," Sam said slowly, "so we just need to research this ghost, figure out who he is, and then find his remains... or the haunted item."
"Sounds good," Dean said. Alex, however, was just sitting there, a huge grin on her face.
"Those guys were so cool," she breathed, glancing at Sam, then Dean. "This makes me wish I could be a ghost hunter. Wow."
"You seem easily impressed, kid," Dean said, giving her a superior smile.
She ignored the comment and looked at him sidelong. "Have a beer already, will you?"
His jaw clenched. "The Cleanse." This time he sounded blatantly depressed.
She smiled to herself and took a long swig of hers so he could watch jealously.
Wake up, meditate, shower, dress, breakfast, walk to work... Alex arrived at work like normal, wearing a shorter floral dress (Friday, casual day), cardigan, and heels. Behind her, she heard the low hum of the office—people taking calls on the phone, the printers going. But she was stuck remembering last night when she, Dean, and Sam had killed a ghost. It had been the most thrilling and life-altering thing she had ever done. After researching the Sandover building and its history, they had recognized the face of their ghost and learned that there was an item of his still in the building: a single glove. Together, they had fought off said ghost then found and burned the glove. All with just fractions of seconds to spare. After they came within an inch of their lives, they went back to Dean's office, where Sam had proposed they quit their jobs and go hunt down ghosts. Alex had thought it was an exciting prospect, and even let herself dream about actually doing it for all of thirty seconds until Dean shot the idea down.
Alex was so lost in her thoughts at her desk that she didn't even notice when Mr. Collins came in. If she had looked up, she might have seen his eyes traverse her bare legs, she might have seen him swallow strangely, she might have seen him go into his office faster than he usually did. But she was busy staring at her screen blankly.
Sam had been disappointed after Dean said no, and then he left without talking to Alex about it. She honestly would have dropped everything and left with him right then if he asked. Something about what happened last night felt right. But this morning, Sam had come in with a face of stone and he didn't even say hello. Alex sighed restlessly, staring at the kitten wallpaper on her computer. She could hear some kind of commotion going on in the cubicles behind her, but was unable to care about it or look away from the kittens... their soft white fluffy fur, their wide blue eyes, their wispy whiskers... she felt a growing sense of hatred the longer she stared at the image, and suddenly a burst of pure, undiluted rage. "I hate cats!" she shouted, and taking hold of the computer with both hands, she stood and ripped it from its cords, lobbing it across the room where it smashed against the wall. She stared at the busted computer, blinking in surprise, then realized someone was standing just off to her side.
Sam stared, a fire poker in his hand. He seemed a little out of breath. "I... just killed my phone," he explained, which explained nothing, but she nodded, feeling like she understood him perfectly.
"I hate cats," she returned. He nodded, seeming to understand her too. She rounded her desk, coming to him and speaking in a hushed, urgent voice. "Let's go. You and me. We'll go on the road like you said. We can ask Dean again, but even if he doesn't want to... we can. We're supposed to. You know?"
"Yeah," Sam said, nodding and looking happier than she remembered him ever looking. "I do know."
As if on cue, the door to the right of Alex's desk opened. Miller Collins peered out at them sullenly, then glanced at the smashed computer to his left. He then stepped aside, holding the door open further. "Come into my office. Both of you."
They shared a glance and obliged quietly, the momentary high fading into quiet dread.
"Look, sorry about the phone—" Sam started, but stopped talking when he saw Mr. Collins reaching out to touch him on the forehead. Alex watched, mystified, and then Mr. Collins touched her, too. And suddenly, she remembered everything—she was Alex Winchester, that was Sam, her brother, and... her jaw dropped and she looked down at herself then at Mr. Collins... better known as Castiel.
"...What the hell, Cas?"
"Explain. Now," Sam added in angrily.
"Is this real?!" Alex asked, gaping.
Cas was stoic, as usual. "Yes, this is real," he replied apathetically. "This was Zachariah's idea. It was to prove to the three of you that the life you live; hunting, is what you're meant to do. It's your destiny."
"I-is this some kind of sick joke?" Sam was aghast. "You take three weeks of our lives for your own angel comedy hour?"
"And who the hell is Zachariah?" Alex felt herself shaking in outrage. In the tiny dress with her legs bare, she felt naked. "You took all of our memories? You... turned me into... this?"
"It was not my idea," Castiel said simply, as if that would fix everything.
"You tricked us!" Sam protested.
Cas held an impatient hand up. "I understand you're both unhappy. The point of all this is that you—the Winchester family—are supposed to hunt. It's in your very blood. But more than that, you're supposed to stick together." His eyebrows knit as if in earnestness. "The past three weeks, the two of you have been closer than you have in the entire past year."
He had a point, but it wasn't one the twins were happy about. Sam and Alex glanced at each other. Unlike a few moments ago, when they had been Sam Wesson and Alex Remington, the glance was now tinged with bitterness. "Maybe that was because I couldn't remember anything about what he's done to screw up the family."
Sam scoffed. "You sure do know how to hold a grudge, don't you Alex."
"It's not a grudge, it's me remembering the facts!"
"Yeah, you're right, it's all me to blame, because you and Dean are so perfect."
Castiel looked down, disappointed.
"Yeah. Well, Cas, you got us," Sam said brusquely. "Good job." Heated, he took a few steps back, jabbing a hand through his hair.
Alex glared. "I don't get it. What gives you angels the right to think you can screw with our heads like this. It's not okay!"
"Alex—" Castiel started, only to be cut off.
"No. You violated us! You tricked us!" She crossed her arms angrily. "Stop playing games, you're either on our side or you're not!"
"Enough!" Castiel thundered, and the room seemed to darken, his deep voice carrying a power that it hadn't before. A little intimidated, Alex had taken a step back. Behind her, Sam stared slack-jawed at Cas. "I am doing what I must," he conveyed intensely. "I regret that you feel violated, but what would you have me do?"
Even if she was thrown by him raising his voice, she still had an answer ready. "How many times do I have to say it? The right thing, Cas!"
The angel approached, pressing into her space with an angry expression of his own. The edge of his trench coat brushed against her bare knee. "You think you know my world so well," he accused gruffly. "Well you don't. I deserve some trust from you." His eyes bored into hers.
"Trust?" she echoed, her tone suggesting such a thing was far-fetched.
Cas had the gall to look mildly hurt. His voice was soft now. The entire tone of the room shifted. "After everything I've done for you, can't you extend that to me? Even just a little?" It seemed heartfelt, which made it even harder to know how to process. Alex was confused. Cas stepped back from her, his face showing true vulnerability for a few heartbeats. "Have you truly never wondered why, after a lifetime of being mute, how you could not only speak, but speak perfectly, as if you had been speaking for your entire life? I didn't simply give you the ability to make sound, I made you whole. It wasn't easy, Alex Winchester." His bright blue eyes seemed to hold some unspoken pain or secret. "It cost me more than you know." His next words, said so softly in a wounded tone, were utterly convicting. "Your hatred stings very deeply."
Alex stared at him, stunned and speechless, feeling very, very small and yes... ashamed. She opened her mouth to say something. And then without warning, she and Sam were no longer at Sandover, but in a very dim motel room. Castiel was gone.
The twins were silent for a short moment as their eyes adjusted to the darkness. "We... we were staying here right after Dean got out of the hospital," Sam said, and Alex realized he was right—she saw their bags piled in the corner exactly where they'd left them.
Exhausted in a way that wasn't physical, Alex sat on a bed, burying her face in her hands. She felt overwhelmed, tricked, but mostly humiliated, almost to the point of tears. Your hatred stings very deeply. She heard Sam sit opposite her, but she didn't look up. Just kept covering her burning face.
Suddenly, there was a sound to their right. "Whoa. Honey, I'm home." It was Dean in a business suit, his hair slicked down. "Well would you look at us. It's like Halloween," he commented wryly, looking at his siblings who were still in their weird Sandover outfits.
"Dean!" Sam was relieved. "So I'm guessing you met Zachariah."
Dean's brow furrowed slightly. "How'd you know?"
"Cas told us," Sam said, glancing at Alex, who still sat on the bed. She was off in her own thoughts. "He was... our floor manager."
"Of course he was," Dean sighed. "Well, I, for one, am starting to get real tired of these angels yanking our chains around." He looked at Alex, who still wore the dress and heels. "You look ridiculous, by the way." She made a face.
"Yeah well at least I didn't just do the Master Cleanse."
"Well what did Zachariah say to you?" Sam asked, not interested in small talk. "Hopefully more than Cas did, because he barely explained anything. He just chewed Alex out."
"Yeah?" Dean asked, looking mildly interested.
"Did you really have to bring that up?" Alex asked snidely. Sam shrugged.
"Listen, before we get all heart to heart, I need food," Dean said. "Real food. And a beer. Lots and lots of beer. Bring on the carbs."
They went and grabbed dinner at a local diner, dressed the way they were. Alex listened as her brothers did most of the talking, her mind far away. She faded in and out of paying attention.
"I mean, I was drinking rice milk," Dean said. "Rice milk. I had a gym membership, and ate salad." He said salad like it was a dirty word.
"I went home every night and played XBOX. Like all night." Sam admitted sheepishly.
"The highlight of my day was Oprah," Alex said glumly.
"Wait, you don't really like Oprah?" Dean grinned and plunked a fry into ketchup. "So, you ever gonna tell me what Cas had to say to you?"
Alex stared at her plate, her eyes seeing nothing, her mind going to a strange place. "Eh. Just bitching about random stuff, nothing major."
Dean clearly knew she was avoiding telling him everything, but it didn't seem to matter. He let it go in favor of stuffing his face with fries. Alex slunk down further into her seat, Cas's words still on the forefront of her mind. She felt like the world's biggest bitch. Castiel was still an unsolved puzzle for her, but she was really starting to get the feeling that she had him wrong. He clearly wasn't perfect but... he continued saying he chose to give her the ability to speak at a great cost to himself. She kept thinking about that for the rest of the day, wondering who he was. Who he really was. This being she kept getting glimpses of beyond his duties and loyalties.
That night, Alex sat outside the motel on the edge of the sidewalk underneath a clear midnight sky. It was cold as she listlessly watched highway traffic pass by. She once again looked like herself: in her favorite pair of jeans, well-loved boots, a tank top, a shirt, and a warm cargo jacket. She'd showered off the makeup and hair products and was no longer a caricature.
She thought back to the past three weeks when she had been free of all the pains of the past. Instead of torturing herself over her brothers, the apocalypse, and an endless list of hardships, she had been content to fix her hair and watch mindless TV every night. Her biggest concern had been what outfit she would wear for work the next day. So now, she could say she knew what a 'normal life' was like—and it was pretty fucking boring. Not to mention lonely.
She still didn't like the fact that the angels had duped them like that—stolen their memories, transplanted their lives—but she was admitting to herself that treating Cas the way she had probably hadn't been right. It hadn't been his idea, after all. He'd just been following orders. Ridiculous, stupid orders, but still. She thought of her attraction to him when she thought he was a man named Miller Collins and felt intense embarrassment. The angels must have implanted that into her mind as a joke. Right? Well. She did think Cas was handsome, didn't she? Ugh.
All Alex knew is that when he told her off about her behavior... at first she'd been humiliated and pissed. Now, she realized she had to respect him for having the courage to tell her what he felt. She thought of his face when he said her hatred stung. Inside, her heart broke a little. She thought of how ungrateful and undeserving she was, how much she regretted her words and actions, how disappointed she was in herself. If Cas could have seen before he healed her how she would treat him, he probably never would have bothered at all.
She drew in a deep breath and let it out, getting a little nervous about what she was about to do. This felt absolutely ridiculous and even if he did show, he'd probably just bitch at her some more, which she deserved but... yeah. She had to do this. Gathering her courage, Alex screwed her eyes shut, and in a voice just above a whisper, she spoke. "Um. Castiel? Are you there?"
She opened her eyes and flinched slightly. "Hello, Alex." He stood just in front of her. He didn't look angry or disappointed. Just neutral. Unreadable.
She stared up at him with a shocked expression, almost too caught off guard to speak. "Wow... just like that," she breathed out. "You come when I call?"
"Of course. I'm your guardian angel."
Her brow furrowed in confusion. "You are?" Last time she'd heard, Uriel said those orders or whatever were no longer valid.
"Yes. I discovered that Uriel was lying about that."
"Oh." Alex nodded as she took that into her understanding. She'd suspected as much about Uriel. She gave a tight smile and somewhat awkwardly patted the spot beside her, indicating that he should sit—no sense in standing there where she had to crane her head up to look at him. He didn't seem to understand for a couple of seconds, then he joined her, sitting close enough that their elbows brushed against each other's. Since the curb was so low to the ground, his knees were level with his chest, but he didn't seem to have the poise Alex had (her arms leaned onto her knees). He just sat there, arms at his sides, knees in his face, looking ridiculous. She couldn't hide the amused little smile that sprang to her face.
"I'm sorry, I can't... you need to put your arms on your knees... that just looks... wrong." He frowned, not understanding. Uncertainly, he looked at her for reference but got it all wrong: he placed a hand on each knee, his arms straight against his legs, increasing his ridiculousness by about a hundred percent. Chuckling out loud now, Alex shook her head. "No, no, that's worse." She grabbed his forearm and guided him to a more casual, relaxed stance. She missed the way he openly studied her face as she worked. But when she was done, their eyes met, and Alex's smile faded. His eyes were unguarded. Soft. Intriguing.
She cleared her throat loudly and scratched her neck to look busy, her eyes fleeing his. It was now or never. "So I, uh, needed to tell you something," she began, not entirely sure how she was going to approach this. She struggled for the words, her pride taking a hit as she forced herself to begin. "I'm..." she forced the next word out, "sorry, Cas. I've been... a total bitch," she mumbled, then quickly added on, "I mean, sometimes you did deserve it." She cleared her throat again. "Uh, but... when I told you that I hated you or whatever—it wasn't really true." Her ears burned. "I mean, I was pissed, and the words just... like, came out. I guess I was trying to hurt you. Because, um, well." She sighed long and hard. "You hurt me." Ugh, Doctor Phil, eat your heart out. But Castiel just listened. Didn't rub it in or make her feel worse. Alex found the ability to continue as he remained receptive. She swallowed, shutting her eyes. "After all you've done for me... you didn't deserve that. And I didn't mean it. I don't hate you." She opened her eyes again and forced herself to look him in the eye. "I do really hate apologies, Cas. And I'm not really used to making them out loud like this either. But I hope you know I mean it. I'm sorry, okay?" She sighed heavily and shrugged, looking down between her knees awkwardly. "Welp—that's all I got." She threw her hands up then let them go. Somehow, what she'd imagined as a grand and beautiful apology felt small and cringy.
Cas looked at her a moment longer, and his expression was surprisingly soft still. It made him look years younger and more open. "Yes. I do know that you are sincere," he said, making her stomach flip. "And I accept your apology." Just like that? Alex was floored by his willingness. Castiel gazed out ahead of them, his expression growing softer. "I have thought about how difficult it would be to suddenly have memories back you didn't remember. You were disconcerted. And felt that what was yours was taken away. In truth, it was. I've thought about many things you've told me I was wrong for doing. Very often, I believe you're right about me." He drew in a deep breath through his nose then expelled it the same way. "I appreciate your perspective, even if I don't always understand it."
Again, her stomach flipped and Alex glanced his way sidelong. Who was this angel? This thoughtful, curious creature she caught glimpses of one-on-one? He captivated her more and more, and somewhere hope was growing inside of her. Hope for what, she wasn't sure. But she felt it all the same.
They sat in silence a moment longer, Alex trying to summon the courage to say what she did next. "You could've done nothing," she chanced, watching his expression, forever still wondering why he'd done what he had. "I would've never even known the difference." She could have lived her whole life mute and never have known it could be different for a second.
When she said that, his lips turned up and his eyes crinkled slightly at the edges as he watched the traffic passing by. It was bittersweet. He turned his head toward her, his eyes meeting hers with soulful intensity. "I was not willing to do nothing."
The way he said it made her feel like she couldn't maintain eye contact and she shivered slightly, looking away in cowardice. She could feel him looking at her still and she couldn't resist cautiously meeting his gaze again. His head had tilted slightly, his eyes were softer than she ever remembered seeing them and she floundered, feeling warm all over and uncomfortable as she watched how his eyes studied her face thoroughly. For the briefest of seconds, she studied him in the same way. It felt unspeakably vulnerable. "I, uh... it's late," Alex finally hedged nervously, feeling too awkward to know what else to do. "I should probably get in there before they come looking."
"Of course." Alex stood up and Cas followed suit. His voice stopped her a couple of steps toward the door. "Goodnight, Alex."
She turned to look at him over her shoulder.
He had put his hands into his pockets—and that caught her attention. Standing there in the parking lot with neon signs behind him illuminating the side of his face, Alex felt like she was seeing him for the first time. It was surreal and it made her feel something she didn't know how to handle. The way he looked at her... it could almost be described as tender. Stricken by her thoughts, she felt a certain, mostly unfamiliar shy feeling overcome her. She tucked her hair behind her ear and gave him a small, tight smile. "'Night, Cas."
And with that, Alex Winchester turned and went into the motel as her guardian angel stayed and watched until she was safely inside.
Author's note: Inside joke! They all had the last name of firearm brands. Smith & Wesson; Remington.