So cool. You can't beat this kind of imagery. And a kid seeing his father like this is really something. I can never blame Gakushu as much for his actions because he's just a kid and imagine having a father like that. The narrative seems to try and end they're story like oh, they're both so manipulative and on equal ground they'll never change ohoho but one of them is supposed to be the parent. One of them is a child in a really fucked up situation. Not that I don't appreciate Gakuho as a character and sympathize with him to an extent, but not here.
Summary: Alex Singer's world changed when she encountered monsters for the first time during her senior year field trip, just before graduating at Lincoln High in Sioux Falls, and now, five years later, she's part of the life that Bobby Singer never wanted for her. With a chip on her shoulder, she has to learn to overcome more than she ever could have anticipated, starting with goodbye.
Characters: Alexandria (Alex) Singer (OC), Bobby Singer, Karen Singer (Mentioned), Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester.
Set: Season 3 Episode 10 Dream a little dream of me.
First published: 12 June 2025.
Last updated: Check on Ao3 or here.
Status: Ongoing
Chapters: 13/?
Word Count: 8.5k+
Total Word count: 100.03k+
Read it on Ao3: Angel with a shotgun
Spotify playlist: Angel with a shotgun
Warnings: mentions of alcohol used as a coping mechanism, graphic depictions of violence.
Chapter 13: Hit me with your best shot
Alex was halfway home when her phone started ringing, she recognised the ringtone and answered immediately, “Pops?”
“Alex, got a salt ’n burn down in Wilton, North Dakota for ya, think you can handle it for me? I got wind of something strange out East,” Bobby’s voice speaks gruffly over the phone.
“Uh yeah, yeah I can handle it. Strange how?”
“Doctor doing some interesting studies on some people and he died in his sleep.”
“Sounds pretty normal to me.”
“He was studying people who lost the ability to dream, the university didn’t know about it. His assistant was very nervous,”
“Alright… bordering on our kinda weird. You gonna be okay? I can always—”
“I’ve got it handled. Heading to one of the suspects in a minute. You take care of the salt ‘n burn. I got this. You just watch your back,”
Her chest tightened a little, but she nodded, “I will. Take care, Pops,” and before she hit the end-call button she added, “Love you.”
“Love you too, Pumpkin,”
The call ended and she pulled over for a moment, about to check the coordinates and found a message from Dean that she missed from the night before.
Dean (22:08): Hey Alex, next coven I have to deal with, I’m callin’ you in. I friggin’ hate witches.
She chuckled, hearing the exact tone in his voice and paused as she read the next one.
Dean (22:12): We need to talk about Sam. Ruby thinks I’m trusting her to watch over Sam when I’m gone.
“Yeah… no. Ruby’s not digging her claws into Sam,” she told herself, shaking her head. She replied with a brief, ‘Don’t worry, we won’t let that happen.’ Then she opens the text from Bobby — the place is another day’s worth of driving at the very least. “You wouldn’t have sent me if it wasn’t important… I just don’t like the idea of being so far away,” she muttered at the screen, pulled out her map from the glove compartment and made some mental notes of highways and streets, before starting Murphy again and hitting the road.
A few hours later, she’s filling up her tank at the gas station when another text chimes on her phone.
Bobby (13:51): Looks like the Good Doctor was playing with some kind of dream root used by shamans. Stuff that messes with the mind if you don’t know what you’re doing.
Bobby (13:52): How’s the road treating you?
She types a text for him, ‘Love when the victims play with dangerous stuff and don’t realise the consequences.’ Send. ‘Halfway there. It’d have been faster flying to the moon.’
Bobby (13:58): Sorry. You were the closest one outta all of us.
Bobby (14:01): It should be a quick job, small town, small cemetery
She types again, ‘Hope so. Went for a swim in that icy lake the other day.’ She rereads her message and remembers she barely felt the chill of the water and shrugged it off as adrenaline.
By late afternoon Alex made it to the small town, checked into a motel and started digging into research with a lukewarm coffee at her side. Somewhere in between she’d remembered to text Sam, ‘Bobby sent me on a salt n’ burn. Tell Dean not to miss me too much.’ She didn’t even notice when the sun had gone down. She leaned back in her chair and glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table, 23:09, which by a hunters’ estimate was still early. She stood up, eyes scanning over the newspaper clippings and written notes she’d made about the small town. The only crimes that happened were drunk and disorderlies or DUIs, a few public indecencies, but no murders that suggest an angry spirit to begin with, yet there were clear signs. Flickering lights, neighbours in a particular street complaining that their dogs were agitated and their children claiming they spoke to a nice man from next door which was investigated by police that turned up nothing.
An elderly and widowed Mrs Madelyn Perry was the closest neighbour to the Robertsons, and from what Alex had managed to pull up her son, Evan Perry, died about ten years prior in his late thirties and the eerie thing about the children’s description of the ‘nice man’ fit the picture of him perfectly. His death was ruled an accident according to the autopsy and he was buried at the local cemetery. There were no reports of disturbances until the Robertsons moved in with their two small children.
“Alright, guess I have to wait until morning to check out the Perry’s residence,” she sat down on the bed with a sigh, tapping her foot before putting her cellphone down on the bedside table. Dean hadn’t responded to her last message and Sam hadn’t sent anything for a while, but she figured they were probably on shifts driving back to the Salvage Yard and didn’t have the energy. “Stay safe, idjits,” she murmured before toeing off her boots and throwing herself back onto the surprisingly soft motel mattress. She tucked her arms behind her head and stared at the splotchy water-stained ceiling with a soft sigh, thinking about the night before with a strange clarity, the way Jason had looked at her the morning after, how she had to remind him there couldn’t be something more than that night. After losing Jayden she wasn’t sure she could do anything more than one night stands anyway. Brain, shut up, she sighed, turning onto her side to face the window, beyond them the neon sign buzzed faintly and flickered occasionally acting like a kind of white noise that eventually eased her into sleep.
Alex stirred when the morning light seeped through the cheap blinds, blinking and covering her face with a quiet groan and sat up slowly. 06:47. “Huh? I slept through the night?” she rubbed her eyes and stretched, her muscles were looser than she anticipated. “I’ll count it as a damn blessing,” she mumbled before she stood up, reaching for her duffel and taking out a formal shirt and pants she always kept just in case and tossing them on the bed. Then opened a separate compartment and pulled out her locked box of fake IDs and badges, and found the one she needed and stashed the box away.
A narrow closet door near the room’s entrance revealed the wall-mounted ironing board for travellers and she flicked on the dodgy iron at the plug, laying her shirt so she could iron the wrinkles out with care. Repeating the process with the pants and slipping the clothes on, then clipped her electrician’s badge onto the shirt’s pocket and tied her hair up in a neat ponytail.
Within the hour Alex pulled up to the Perry’s residence, killing the engine and tucking her EMF reader into her box on the passenger seat along with the salt and lighter fluid. The random cables and rags disguised the box as an electrician’s kit. As she walked up to the porch, the wind chimes jangled in the breeze, she cleared her throat and knocked in quick succession. She put on her best smile as Mrs Perry opened the door, eyes narrow as she looked at Alex.
“Electric?” Her eyes narrowed at the badge Alex wore, “I didn’t call for anyone,”
“Yes ma’am. Your neighbours across the street were worried and called us,” she angled her badge so Madelyn could look at it better then continued, “A house like this, we can’t take risks. Got a report about flickering lights? Might be loose wiring, potential fire…” She waited as Madelyn nodded slowly, “Do you mind if I take a quick look? I won’t be in your way,”
Madelyn glanced across the street, then to her car and back at Alex, “Alright sweetheart, come on. Free service is free service,” she waved her hand and let Alex inside. “‘Bout time that they let women work in electrical,” she hummed and walked towards the kitchen.
Alex chuckled, keeping her guise up, “My father was expecting a son,” she set her toolbox down and grabbed the EMF, flicking it on in a swift motion, “Wanted me to take on the family business when he retired, so here I am,” she started walking slowly, pretending to hover the device near the walls.
“Would you like coffee Miss…?”
“Cunningham, Alex Cunningham,” she said without looking her way, “Yes, thank you.” She continued scanning, watching for any spikes or potential cold pockets in the hallways. Nothing. She stopped in the living room, seeing a little section dedicated to Evan, photographs, candles and what looks to be a rosary and ring in a dish in front of the most recent portrait.
“How many sugars dear?”
“Oh, three please, Ma’am,” she raised her EMF and it spiked faintly, but it meant his spirit was still around. “Mrs Perry, is this your son?” She asked like she didn’t already know.
“Oh… Yes, my boy, Evan,” she walked in, handing Alex the coffee which she took gratefully, “I lost him ten years ago.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,”
Madelyn nodded slowly, then changed the subject, “Did you find anything yet?”
“Not yet, but I’m working on it,” she gave her a small smile.
After finishing her coffee and an hour of investigating, Alex left the Perry’s residence, with the wind chimes jangling again behind her so she could get some food in her system. Grabbing a sandwich from a little shop and a packet of rainbow belts because she craved something sweet, then leaned against the hood of her car, chewing slowly as she thought about her next steps. The EMF had spiked outside, between the fencing of the two yards of the Perry’s and Robertson’s residences, which meant that the kids had definitely seen something. Which only meant one thing: Alex had to dig up his grave and salt ‘n burn the bones tonight, before things could escalate.
Sam found himself sitting alone at the bar, leaving Dean behind at the gas station while he mulled over his own thoughts. He tilted the glass back and forth in his hand, watching the amber liquid flow smoothly. A few other people were milling around the place despite it being early in the afternoon. There’s really not much else some people can get up to in a small town, he thought. The soft padding of boots sounded somewhere behind the swinging door but he didn’t pay it much attention, not when he’s thinking about what Bobby had said months ago.
‘Sam, you wanna break Dean free of that demon deal— you ain’t gonna find the answer in no book.’ when he tried to ask tiredly where, Bobby gave him the truth, no sugar-coating, ‘Kid, I wish I knew.’ and it broke him just a little more. Dean’s clock was ticking, and so far there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it.
“There you are. What are you doing?” Dean’s voice asked, he turned to find him with his arms in the air, brow raised like he wanted answers.
“Having a drink?” He shrugged, brows furrowing as he tilted the glass like Dean was asking the obvious.
“It’s two in the afternoon. You drinking whiskey?” Dean leans on the counter, looking at his little brother like he lost his mind.
“I drink whiskey all the time,"
“No, you don’t,” Dean frowned deeper.
“What’s the big deal?" he sighed. “You get sloppy in bars, you hit on chicks all the time. Why can’t I?” he countered.
Dean’s mouth slacked as he quickly glanced around the room, then turned to Sam again, “It’s kind of slim pickings around here.” He scoffed quietly, aiming for a joke as per usual, then eyes the glass in Sam’s hand and asks again, “What’s going on with you?”
Sam thought for a moment, eyes darting between the glass in his hand and back to Dean, not once but twice. His voice cracked despite not wanting it to, “I tried, Dean.”
“To do what?” Dean frowns softly, leaning closer.
“To save you.” He says even quieter, his eyes are glossy now, avoiding Dean’s as his brother sighs quietly and moves the barstool to slide in next to him.
“Could I get a whiskey, double, neat." Dean asked a bartender as his elbow rested against the counter.
“I’m serious, Dean,” he said softly.
“No, you’re drunk." Dean sighed louder.
“I mean where you’re going…” He looked at him now, “What you’re gonna become?” He scoffs, “I can’t stop it. I’m starting to think maybe even Ruby can’t stop it.” The silence that hung there felt bigger than when he’d been sitting on his own, “But really, the thing is, no one can save you.”
Dean raised his head, not looking at his brother, “I’ve been telling you.”
“No, that’s not what I mean— I mean, no one can save you because you don’t wanna be saved. I mean, how can you care so little about yourself?” Sam asked, Dean scoffed quietly, "What’s wrong with you?”
Dean just looked at Sam, his jaw tight because he clearly didn’t know how to answer his little brother without breaking his heart even further. It only confirmed Sam’s suspicion that he was right. Dean didn’t care if he died — only if someone he loved did. He wondered, not for the first time, if this was how it started, the moment where he stopped believing there was another way.
A phone started ringing. Sam knew it wasn’t his. Dean looked annoyed, and a little relieved, as he slid the device out of his jacket and flipped it open.
“Hello?” He listens, glancing down at the table, “Yes, this is Mister Sniderson,” his eyes widen, brows lifting as more information comes in, “What? Where?” Dean makes a mental note and hangs up.
“What’s going on?”
“Bobby’s in the hospital,”
“What? What happened?”
“We don’t have time,” he downs the whiskey that was finally brought, tossing a couple of bills on the counter, Sam finished his own and they headed out the bar together, “Alex must be caught up in a case— they told me they called a Miss Sniderson but it went to voicemail. Call her, text her, make sure she knows where we’re headin’,” Sam nodded, climbing into the passenger seat without argument as Dean revved the engine and hit the road in seconds.
His fingers fumbled with the small device but he managed to type the hospital’s address, then something more reassuring, ‘Couple hours out. We got him.’
An owl hooted somewhere in the distance, with the grave finally dug up Alex wiped the sweat from her brow with her sleeve, her arms aching from the effort of digging. She climbed out the grave slowly, hands gripping dry grass as she heaved herself out and then stood on the edge. Lighter fluid drizzled on, salt sprinkled seconds later and then a match lit and tossed on the remains. For a brief second Alex froze as the air shifted, cold. She saw him standing across from the grave. He smiled softly, no heaviness or malice in his posture that usually came from vengeful spirits, she tilted her head and waved slowly and his smile widened. He waved mirroring her motion, then faded into the night. The fire hissed and crackled, orange light flickering against her face as they grew higher, the smell filling the air in seconds.
“Rest in peace, Evan,” she whispered.
Once the flames settled down she worked at reburying the grave, talking it through for herself. The moment she was done she slumped into the driver’s seat, pulled out a rainbow belt and hummed as the sugar melted in her mouth. She pulled her phone out from the glove compartment, checking her phone for the first time since leaving the Perry’s residence, and stiffened a little at the ‘One New Voicemail – Unknown Caller’. Followed by ‘Two new messages: Sam’.
She clicked the play button and pressed the device to her ears, listening carefully, “Hello, this is Nurse Nasreth calling from Hempfield Neighborhood Hospital, Pittsburgh, I believe this is the number of Miss Sniderson?” Alex froze at the mentioned name, that was the emergency contact name they’d chosen if Bobby ended up in hospital. “We have a Robert Sniderson here with us, he’s stable at the moment but we’d like you to call us back as soon as you get the message,” the call clicks dead.
“No… No, no Bobby what the Hell happened?” she saw the call was from several hours ago and felt her heart racing, “Shit. Shit! Why didn’t I check in sooner?” She hastily removed a map and then slammed the glove compartment shut, eyes scanning the page frantically for the best route. According to the time on her phone, it was 20:19.
Sam (14:18): Couple hours out. We got him
Alex dials Sam immediately, trying to be calm but naturally worried about Bobby, “Hey— Sam,” she breathed a sigh of relief when he picked up immediately, “I’m a day out, tops. Case took longer than I planned.” She grits her teeth, “Is he okay?”
“Doctor’s are monitoring him, don’t worry,”
“Call me the second anything changes, okay?”
“‘Course,” Sam spoke a little sluggishly, “We’re a few hours out now. Will keep you posted Al,”
“Sam… are you drunk?” she frowned, starting the car with her free hand and putting it into gear.
“A little inebriated, I’ll be sober when we get there,” he paused for a moment too long, “Relax,”
“Yeah, you better be,” she grumbled, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye, Sam,”
“Bye.” He hung up.
Hospital noises. The intercom. Dean crossed his arms as he looked over Bobby like he’s ready to break whoever or whatever did this. Sam meanwhile had sobered up a little more on the ride there, keeping his cool as he asked the question they were dreading, “So, what’s the diagnosis?”
“We’ve tested everything we can think to test.” The doctor says honestly, tightening his hold slightly on the clipboard beneath his armpit, “He seems perfectly healthy.”
“Except that he’s comatose.” Dean stated.
“Mister Sniderson, you’re his emergency contact. Anything we should know? Any illnesses?”
Dean’s eyes flicker between the doctor and Sam, “No, no he never gets sick. I mean, he doesn’t even catch a cold,” Dean glances back at Sam who nods in agreement.
“Doctor, is there anything you can do?” Sam asks, focusing on the positive.
“Look, I’m sorry, but we don’t know what’s causing it, so we don’t know how to treat it.” He pauses, “He just... went to sleep and didn’t wake up.”
A beat passes and the brothers look over at each other, Dean’s arms crossed and Sam’s brows are furrowed, before they look down at Bobby sleeping peacefully in the hospital bed. Totally unharmed, they don’t remember a time when he’s ever been so relaxed. Sam swallows the lump forming in his throat, because it’s in their world it’s never that simple.
Alex’s hand gripped the steering wheel, she’d taken a short stop at the gas station to fill up Murphy and buy some more snacks and a Monster Energy drink for the road, refusing to rest at a motel. Sleeping meant stopping, stopping meant Bobby would slip further than he already had in his coma. Sam kept her updated as promised, texts along the way that kept her hopeful, maybe a little too hopeful.
Silene capensis, African Dream Root. Just like Bobby had mentioned, and it made something twist in her gut. A few hours later, Sam updated her:‘Legends mention dreamwalking. Bobby’s had no changes so far.’ She was halfway there, taking another quick stop for a bathroom break when another update chimed through.
Sam (21:08): Bela supplied us with some of the dream root. We’re gonna take it, see if we can help Bobby from the inside.
She dialled his phone but there was no answer on the other end of the line, so she left him a voicemail, “Sam, you’re probably rootin’ around in Bobby’s head right now. I was gonna talk you out of it. Just… be careful dammit. I wouldn’t trust Bela as far as I can throw her,” she pauses her pacing and looks at the ground, “And let me know how Dean’s doing. He hasn’t answered my texts from yesterday, I know he’s worried about Bobby. Call me as soon as you get this message, bye.”
The white lights from the hospital cast a glow in the early morning hours as Murphy pulled up to the curb. Alex doesn’t waste any time, the car is parked, locked and she runs to reception.
“Hi sorry, Miss Sniderson, I’m here for Robert Sniderson?” She pants, heart thundering in her chest.
“Room fifty-seven, just down the hallway, two lefts,” the receptionist smiles.
“Thank you,” she turns, running full speed and nearly knocks a few of the staff off their feet in her panic, when she sees the number she skids to a stop, bracing the outer door frame before swallowing. Her throat is dry and she pushes open the door.
Bobby’s sitting upright, eyes wider than she’s ever seen, hair a mess and a cold sweat beading his forehead.
“Pops? Oh thank God— I’m so sorry,” she kneels at the left of his bedside, then wraps her arms around him and he does the same.
“Alex?” His voice cracks with relief, “I’m sorry sweetheart—” his arms squeeze tighter. “Should’ve waited for backup,” he grumbles.
She sits back, still holding onto his hand firmly, careful of the drip in his hand, “What the hell happened?”
“Long story short: I realised too late that I wasn’t huntin’ a monster, just a very smart young man,” he huffs, then looks at her, really looks at her. “You look like Hell kid,”
“I’ve been on the road for nearly thirty hours straight, trying to get back to you.” She explained, “The boys… oh shit. Are they—?” She nearly stood up too fast, but Bobby hand tugged her back to reality. “Where are they?”
“They should be okay,”
“Should be?”
“Dean was in my dream, savin’ me, assumin’ Sam was too. I can only think when I woke up they did as well.” He shrugged, honest.
“Right… I’m sure they’re fine.” She nodded, “What about you? You’ve been out for two and a half days now, how’re you feeling? You want me to get some water, food?”
He shook his head, “That can wait, we got a psychopath to hunt down,”
They sit in silence for a while, before Bobby finally clears his throat, “I’m sorry for worryin’ you, sweetheart,”
“It’s not your fault, it’s the job,” she squeezed his hand softly again, “Not like I’m any better at not getting myself killed right?” She gives him a small smile and he chuckles dryly.
“Don’t get me started. You damn kids…”
The door swings open before he can finish his sentence and the Singers sit to attention, thinking it might be a doctor, but instead find Dean with a manila file under his arm and the biggest look of relief on his face that quickly shifts to a smirk as he walks into the room.
“Welcome to the land of the living, Bobby. Alex,” he and Alex exchange a nod, and he sits down on Bobby’s right side in a chair, pushes the little hospital table over Bobby’s bed to put the file down and they work at spreading them out. “Gave us a nasty scare there, Bobby. You keep tellin’ us to be careful and then you go out on a whim like this? That’s not fair,”
“Yeah, yeah, alright I get it,” Bobby grumbles in response, focusing on laying the printed photographs out, avoiding eye contact.
Alex turns from Bobby’s bedside and drifts closer as Dean sets the file down, her arms folding loosely as she scans the photos. “Where’s Sam?” she asks, a frown crossing her face as she looks at Dean.
“Out, chasing down the dingus who did this to Bobby, said he’ll call first before he tackles him,” he pats his pants pocket, presumably where his phone rests, looking between them.
“He’s still out there? Why didn’t you—”
“Didn’t get the chance.” He cuts in before she could get angry, “Bobby woke up ‘cause I told him to and we were yanked back to reality,” he watches as Bobby stays silent, sorting through the file like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Dean clears his throat quietly, eyes Alex before looking at the older hunter again, “Hey, Bobby?” Bobby glances at him briefly, “That um— that stuff, all that stuff with your wife? That actually happen?”
Alex stiffens, recalling the screaming and begging the demon had let her hear from its memory of possessing her Aunt Karen. She shakes the thought away, now isn’t the time.
“Yeah.” Bobby nods slowly, seeing no point in denying whatever Dean saw in his head. “Everybody got into huntin’ somehow.”
“I’m sorry,” Dean murmurs on instinct.
“Don’t be sorry. If it weren’t for you, I’d still be lost in there, or dead.” Dean nods shakily at the truth of Bobby’s words, “Thank you.” Alex places a steady hand on Dean’s shoulder, grounding him before he can deflect.
Sam enters the room just then, making Dean sit up. The Singers turn to face him, he’s rubbing his hands together, “So, uh, stoner boy wasn’t in his dorm. My guess is he’s long gone by now.” He nodded at Alex in quick greeting and she returned it.
“He ain’t much of a stoner.” Bobby grumbles.
“No?” Dean asks, surprised.
“No.” He shakes his head, “His name’s Jeremy Frost: full-on genius, hundred-and-sixty IQ. Which is saying somethin’, considerin’ his dad took a baseball bat to his head.” Bobby shuffles through the pictures, pulling out a photocopy of a driver’s license, “Here’s Father of the Year,” he hands it over to Sam. “He died before Jeremy was ten.”
“He looks like a real sweetheart,” Sam says, shaking his head, and behind those eyes Alex watches something click into place in real-time.
“Injury gave him Charcot-Wilbrand, he hasn’t dreamt since,” Bobby continues the debriefing.
“Till he started dosin’ the dream drug.” Dean chimes in now, piecing everything together, his brow a little angry.
“Yep.” Bobby nodded.
“How’d he know how to dig up your worst nightmare and throw it at you?” Dean’s arms rested on his hips in his seat.
“Hey, he was rooting around in my skull. God knows what he saw in there.” Bobby shrugged, Alex nodded along, keeping quiet. This was their case, she was just here to make sure Bobby was alive and well.
“Yeah, how’d he get in there in the first place?” Sam looked between them, "Isn’t he supposed to have your DNA or something?"
“Yeah.” Dean agrees, looking slightly confused.
“Yeah…” Bobby stretches it out, “Before I knew it was him, he offered me a beer. I drank it. Dumbest friggin’ thing.” Bobby grumbles.
Alex sees Dean shrug his shoulders next to her and she turns to look at him. Dean starts, “Oh, I don’t know—”
“Oh Dean…” her shoulders dropped in disbelief.
“It wasn’t that dumb, ha-ha,” his tongue licks his lip nervously and Sam and Bobby finally look at him.
“Dean, you didn’t—” Sam rested his hands on his hips.
“I was thirsty—” his voice cracked on admission.
“That’s great! Now he can come after either one of you,” Sam raises his arms like he can’t believe his ears.
“Well, we’ll just have to find him first.”
“We better work fast, and coffee up.” Bobby looks between them, “Because the one thing we cannot do, is fall asleep.”
“Guess I’m grabbin’ another Monster,” she sighed, standing up slowly and Bobby reached out, placing his hand on her arm with a shake of his head.
“Only thing you’re doin’ is sleepin’. Jeremy’s only able to get to Dean and me,” he looked at her sternly.
“Yeah, we can take care of the road,” Sam agreed, sliding his hands into his pockets, “You two can stay in our motel room, seeing how we still have it for a few days,”
“Good idea, Sam,” Bobby agreed, “See? They’re still sharp. I need you to rest,”
Within the hour, Bobby was “checked out” of the room, the hunters split off, there wasn’t time to waste with a wild cannon on the loose; Dean and Sam went in the Impala while Alex drove Bobby back to the Winchester’s motel room.
Bobby unlocked the door, scoffed at the mess with a, “Typical,” muttered under his breath. He locked the door behind them and cocked his head, “You, rest. I’ll make myself coffee and wake you up if I need you,”
“Pops, I should be out there tracking this guy with them, it doesn’t help—”
“Doesn’t help anyone if you’re sleep deprived. Next thing you veer off the road, or get yourself hurt doin’ somethin’ beyond stupid,”
“I… Fine,” she resigned, “Wake me in four hours,”
“Sure,” he nodded, then immediately got to work going through Jeremy Frost’s favourite locations and texting Sam the details.
Alex rolled onto one of the beds, still fully clothed but a little less on guard than she’d normally be with Bobby present, the pillow was a little crushed still despite the bed being made and she glanced at the twin bed. Oddly neat, she cracks a tired smile, shaking her head. That must be Sam’s bed, she thinks. She closed her eyes, trying to breathe deeply and reminding herself that Bobby was unharmed, alive and literally standing a few feet away from her if she needed to feel his pulse.
Sleep started to pull at her easily, and for the first time in the last thirty hours she wasn’t going to fight it. Something draped over her and she stirred, eyes blurry as Bobby’s figure hovered over her, “Don’t need you catchin’ a cold,” his rough fingers tucked her hair behind her ear and she relaxed once more.
A few hours later she woke up, rubbing her eyes and glancing at the bedside clock, quietly adding up the time, while Bobby was standing in the kitchenette and sipping on a coffee. “Pops, why didn’t you wake me up? I said four hours,”
“I know what you said. I also know you work better on at least six hours of sleep,” he typed away on Sam’s laptop. “You don’t need to be haulin’ yourself anywhere, the boys are out doing that for us,”
She stood up, stretching and walked over to him, “I take it they’ve had no luck so far?” She sat down at the table, he just shook his head.
“Nothin’, it’s like Jeremy’s gone off the grid, but we’ll keep searchin’. We can’t go to sleep or—”
“You risk getting killed, yeah.” She agreed, hovering nearer to him now.
Hours later the Singers were eating pizza at the table, never having left the room, with Sam keeping them posted on each location bringing up no new leads. Alex shoves the last slice of pizza in her mouth with little grace, when a knock on the door draws their attention away. Bobby stands to answer it and she frowns, Bela walks in wearing a black coat and that irritating smile that makes Alex itch.
“Bobby, it’s so good to see you again,”
“Thanks for coming in, Bela. Could really use your help on this,”
“Of course,” she places her coat down on a nearby chair and then meets Alex’s eyes. “Oh, Alex, hello,”
“What’s Princess Talbot doing here?” She ignores her entirely, still chewing through melted cheese while staring at Bobby like he just committed a crime.
“I’m here to save Bobby’s skin,” Bela says smoothly, leaning closer and tapping Alex on the underside of her chin, “It’s impolite to talk with a mouth full of food you know,” Alex swats at her hand and Bela avoids it with a snarky grin.
Alex swallows the last of her food, “You’re here so Bobby can owe you a favour,” she shakes her head, “You’re just as bad as a demon.”
“Oh please, Bobby’s a friend… Isn’t that right?”
Bobby looks stunned for a moment, then shrugs, “‘Suppose so.” Then turns his attention back to Alex, “Please behave, just for a few hours,”
“Fine,” Alex groans and throws her head back, crossing her arms, “But if she doesn’t pull up anything useful, I’m going out there myself,”
“Deal,” Bobby patted her shoulder and then Alex stood up, watching Bela get too comfortable for her liking.
But Alex can’t help herself, “What are you doing in town anyway, Bela? Dean hates your guts, and yet Sam said you helped them get hold of that dream root. What I wanna know is: why?”
“Is this how you’re thanking me? I could always go…” she makes for her coat and Bobby holds his hand up, throwing Alex a look.
“Oh— c’mon! Now I’m supposed to just shut up ‘cause she’s got a ouija board and shady connections?” She rolled her eyes and sighed audibly, then muttered a sharp, barely audible ‘Whatever…’ under her breath before heading to the window to look out at the street outside instead.
Bobby walks over, brushes a hand on her shoulder and mumbles a reminder, “Play nice. Just for a few hours. We need her, whether we like it or not. She’s useful to us right now.”
She nodded, lips pressed together tightly, “I know. Sorry.” His hand rubbed over her shoulder once more, before he made his way over to Bela.
Twelve hours of searching, meeting dead ends around every corner, the Winchesters were still on the road, with the Singers manning their motel room and Bela sauntering in and out as she pleased. The ouija board yielded no results, Jeremy seemed to have vanished better than a ghost ever could, because at least ghosts left objects tying them to the earth. Alex was pacing the room, watching Bela hover over the small table with a deck of tarot cards in her hand, gaze occasionally flicking to Bobby as he marked a map.
“Been a while since the boys checked in,” Bobby stood up, taking his phone out and dialing, it was answered immediately.
Even from a distance and not on speaker, she could hear Dean’s voice roaring on the other side, “Tell me you got something!?”
“Strip club was a bust, huh?” Bobby raised a brow and despite the situation Alex chuckled to herself, “That was our last lead,” he shook his head.
“What the Hell, Bobby?!”
“Don’t yell at me, boy. I’m working my ass off here,” he listened, “Well, who ain’t?” He glanced over at Bela, moving his mouth away from the phone for a second, “What do you got, Bela?”
“Sorry, sometimes the spirit world is in a chatty mood, and sometimes it isn’t,” she shrugs, looking up from the table, Alex just rolled her eyes and muttered, ‘Of course’.
“She’s got nothin’,” Bobby said on the phone.
“Great!” Dean yelled again, “Well I’m just gonna go blow my brains out now.” His voice cracked, just a little, and then the line went dead. Bobby slowly moved the phone away, flicking it closed with his index finger and a tired look washed over his face.
He looked over at Bela again, gears turning and then slowly approached her raising his head, “Let me ask you somethin’,” she stood straight, brow gently furrowed as she met his eyes, “What are you doin’ helpin’ us?”
She smiled, way too easily for Alex’s liking, “Bobby, I’m surprised you don’t remember.” He stared at her and then she added like it was obvious, “Flagstaff?”
“Oh, yeah. Right.” He blinked, turning the other way slowly, “Flagstaff.”
Alex walked over, looking at him, voice low, “Pops, everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, fine.” He nodded, then sighed as he sat down on the edge of one of the beds. “Just wish we could catch this Jeremy guy, Dean’s hopped up on caffeine, I’ve got this feelin’ he’s about to do somethin’ stupid,”
“Sleep deprivation can drive you crazy,” she agreed, “I should go out, find ‘em, make sure Dean’s keeping a level head before he tears Sam a new one or does something else stupid,”
“The strip club’s on the other side of town, boys will probably be headin’ back now. No point,”
“Then I’ll take a drive to get some air, this place is making me depressed,” she shrugged on her jacket, grabbed her keys and kissed Bobby’s cheek before he could argue. “I’ll call you in an hour,”
“Be careful,”
“Always,” she nodded, walking past Bela but not looking at her, and out the door seconds later.
Alex found the strip club within thirty minutes, but Baby was nowhere in sight, she’d thought she’d at least see the distinct car driving past her on the road and that made her unease sharpen into something ugly. Sam hadn’t texted either, which he’d been regularly doing after each location check, and that made her stomach twist. She paced in the parking lot, texted Bobby that she was outside the strip club and hadn’t seen the brothers, then hovered over Sam’s name before dialling.
“C’mon Sam, pick up—” she muttered, brushing her arm nervously as she paced nearer to the bar. It went straight to voicemail, “Sam… What the Hell are you two doing?” She stared at her phone, shaking her head before pocketing it.
She watched a few men wobble towards the bar next door from the strip club, and decided to go inside, it was fairly busy considering it was December thirtieth, and yet not surprising all the same. She found herself standing near the bar, a group of women hovering a few feet away sipping bright coloured drinks, she orders herself a single neat whiskey and watches the crowds idly.
Alex could swear her phone was burning against her thigh, checking it every few minutes to see if she’d missed a text from Sam. The clock was ticking, patrons left in drags and still no word from either of them. She texts Bobby, ‘At the bar, just having one drink. Needed to take the edge off. Still nothing from the boys.’
She just downed the last sip of her whiskey when a woman’s voice raises above the usual chatter, “I said, leave me alone,” she sits upright, eyes scanning the scene and locking in on a pair just a couple of yards away. The man she’d seen earlier was towering over a woman, she was dressed up for a night out, but the man seemed to think that was some kind of invitation. He reached out, ready to touch her, “Hey— don’t touch me!” her voice wavered, that was enough for Alex.
Alex stood up and came between them just as he almost made contact, “Hey buddy, are you deaf? Lady said to leave her alone,” she crossed her arms, raising her chin to meet his eyes as he stood over her now. Behind her, the woman backed away slowly, Alex caught it in her peripheral and murmured, “Go.”
“And who the Hell d’you think you are?” He slurred, “Think you’re some kinda Guardian Angel?”
“Must be hard trying to come up with something original when you’re pissed,” she rolled her eyes, arms still crossed firmly.
“All bark, no bite.” He sneered, “Don’t start a fight you can’t finish, bitch.”
“You think I can’t take you in a fight? How about I show you exactly how I bite—”
“Take it outside!” A man yells from behind the bar counter, wiping down a glass with a scowl, “There’s no fighting in my bar.”
“Gladly,” she grins, keeping her eyes on him as she heads out the front door, the drunk man follows with his two friends trailing behind him like a pack of wild dogs.
A few people who were smoking outside turn their heads as Alex and the man square off in the parking lots under orange street lights, she rolls her shoulders and neck letting them loosen and click in preparation, the man just chuckles. Then a few patrons gather around them in a circle, and one rowdy one starts the chaos off, “Ten bucks says this chick can get his ass!”
“No way, she’s tiny, he’ll wipe the floor with her,”
The man seems to walk around in a circle, with her following him steadily, fingers curling into fists. “C’mon, you gonna just stand there? You were ready to go just now.” She taunts, “You scared a woman’s gonna beat your sorry ass?”
He steps forward, teeth grinding, “You think you’re smart? I’ll smack the smile right off your stupid face!”
“Do it then!” She raises her palms up, “I’m waitin’ on ya big guy, put me in my place.” She gestures for him to come closer, “You’re not man enough!”
That does it.
The man swings erratically with a fist, she dodges and laughs, “You little—” he swings again and hits the air. The crowd starts changing, ‘Fight, fight, fight—’.
“You call that a punch, asshole?” She taunts him again, “Hit me with your best shot! I bet I can last longer here, than you do in bed. C’mon!” He swung again just as her gaze had shifted to the cheering crowd, she stumbled momentarily, then laughed under her breath as she looked up at him. “Now that’s more like it!”
“No way— she’s still up!”
Alex grabs the man by his shirt, pulling his face down to meet hers, in the reflection of his eyes she can see hers are golden again. She doesn’t let that stop her now. She needed to teach this man a lesson. Her right hand fisted and she gave him the hardest right hook she could, adrenaline pumping in her veins as he stumbled backwards in shock and nearly fell to the ground had his friends not caught him.
“Ohhh, that must’ve hurt!”
“She’s got him!”
“How the Hell—” the man shakes his head, shoving his friends away from him before catching her again with his fist because she let him. The sting of knuckle against her cheek made her feel something other than worry, other than doubt. She veered a little to the side, actually laughing again which made some of the crowd quieten down.
“Woo! There we go, now we’re talking, big guy!” She gestured him closer again, he managed to hit her twice —solid, knuckles snapping her head to the side— and the crowd murmured in disbelief. ‘That should’ve knocked her flat’, ‘She’s insane’, ‘I think she’s into it’.
Blood dripped down from her nose, but she didn’t stagger, she steadied herself, chest heaving slightly. The one half of the crowd that had been cheering loudly now hushed like the others, watching her with bated breath, the corner of her mouth lifted into a grin.
She silently approached him, moving fast, pulling him down by the shoulders and kneeing him twice in the stomach. He buckled over, groaning as he tried to grab her, but she clutched his shirt collar instead and punched him with another right hook. He collapsed to the ground on his backside and she stood over him, grabbing his shirt again, “Still think I can’t finish the fight?” she glared at him, keeping her other hand raised in a fist.
“Please— leave me alone—” he choked out, raising his hands to cover his face, flinching.
She didn’t hit him, and that seemed to scare him more. “Ohh, now we understand boundaries do we?” She tilted her head, “Funny, you seemed confused earlier… Next time, we leave the lady alone, yes?”
“Yes!” The guy nodded, “Please—”
“Alex?!” A voice broke through the noise, her ears rang suddenly and she closed her eyes briefly, “Hey— what the Hell’s goin’ on here?”
She felt someone pull her arm, without thinking she shoved them hard, her eyes snapping open and finally seeing Dean standing there. “Shit,” she muttered, “Dean—”
“Alex, whoa! Easy, you okay?” Sam comes up behind her.
“Fine.” She nods as she looks between them, Dean standing shocked by her aggressive shove seconds earlier, Sam calmer as he takes in the scene, brow furrowing deeply.
The crowds disperse, the man helped up and walking slowly from his injuries, leaving just a few awkwardly lingering stragglers and the three hunters.
Sam’s eyes glanced down at her hands, then her face, “Did you just… Pick a bar fight?”
“And what if I did?” she spat back immediately, heart still thumping against her ribs, “Where the Hell were you two?” She threw her arms in the air.
“Jeremy’s dead.” Dean edged closer slowly, wary of her adrenaline high now.
“What, you found him?”
Sam shook his head, “We went after him in the dream world, well… Dean’s head.” He explained, “What? You could’ve gotten killed!”
“His idea,” Sam raised his hands in defence.
“But we didn’t.” Dean threw him a look before he turned to her, “Now, since when do you pick bar fights?”
“Guy deserved it, he was practically assaulting this woman inside. Nobody else was doing anything about it. So I stepped up,” she wiped the drying blood from her nose onto her sleeve, looking between them again. Finally calming down a little, “I may have gotten carried away,” she admitted.
“You think?” Dean scoffed quietly, “Sweetheart, you nearly threw hands at me just for tryin’ to take you off the guy. You’re lucky I wasn’t the cops.”
“Yeah, the man looked terrified and you looked like the freakin’ terminator standing over him,” Sam agreed.
She rubbed the back of her neck, eyeing the ground, “I didn’t mean to let it get that far, I just…”
“Wanted to feel something?” Dean finished, knowing all too well.
She nodded, swallowing, “Yeah,”
“I’m starting to think I’m seeing double,” Sam scoffed, a small smile appeared on his face and they both rolled their eyes.
“Funny, Sammy, real funny,” Dean muttered.
“You two alright?” She asked, “And don’t lie to me, or I will actually throw hands with you this time,”
Dean chuckled, raising his palms, “Hey, we’re good. Promise.”
“We are,” Sam nodded, “Are you though?” He gestures to her hand again and she pressed her lips tightly together.
“Bobby almost died, and I wasn’t there to have his back,” her shoulders sagged, defeated, “I get why he crapped me out about that vampire hunt now,” she drew a deep breath, the alcohol kicking in a little to ease her tension, “He’s all I got left. He lost my mom, then Karen– all before I was three.” Her eyes welled up without her wanting them to, and she wiped at her face angrily, “He had no business trying to raise me on his own, but he did it anyway—”
“Hey– easy now, Singer,” Dean’s hand clamped down on her shoulder and before she could move, his arms were suddenly around her in a tight but brief hug. “You’re feelin’ a lot right now, doesn’t mean you gotta punch the daylights outta people.” He stepped back, thinking and then shrugged and nodded, “Actually yeah maybe do, but don’t turn ‘em into pulp. Okay?” He suggested.
“That was almost good advice, Dean. I’m surprised,” Sam joked and then pulled Alex in for a quick hug as well, when he pulled back he kept one hand on her shoulder. “It’s over now anyway. We’ll all get to sleep, finally.”
“Thank God for that,” Alex sighed, then looked between them. “Meet you two back at the motel?”
“You okay to drive?” Dean raised a brow.
“I had a single whiskey. If I get pulled over I’ll flirt my way out of it,” she stepped back, already feeling a little lighter. “Nine out of ten times,” she grinned, throwing in a chuckle for good measure before they split off into their cars.
Alex arrived at the motel first, greeting Bobby on the sidewalk albeit a little confused, he was waiting for the brothers and she nodded. He gave her a squeeze on the arm before she went inside, and she headed towards the bathroom to wash her face and use the bathroom while she had the chance to take her time. About ten minutes later she hears the motel door opening, heavy footsteps and then Dean’s voice through the door.
The toilet flushed loudly and she washed her hands, dried them off and then walked into the room to find Dean holding his phone to his ear, nodding his head in greeting and staying silent. The front door opened before she could ask, and both of them turned to find Sam walking in, Bobby behind him.
Dean shut the phone and looked between all of them, “Hey, you guys seen Bela?” His brow furrowed, “She’s not in her room, she’s not answering her phone.” He waved the device in his hand.
“She must’ve taken off or something.” Sam suggested, tone completely neutral.
“Just like that? That’s a little weird,” Dean’s forehead creased further.
“Yeah well, if you ask me— what’s weird is why she helped us in the first place,” Bobby chirped up.
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Alex sighed, throwing her hands up in the air.
“I thought you saved her life?” Dean asked, glancing at Sam who gave a little nod.
“What the Hell’re you talkin’ about?” Alex and Bobby said at the same time, they looked at each other.
“That thing at Flagstaff?” Dean gestured, Sam looked between us all.
“That ‘thing’ at Flagstaff was an amulet. I gave her a good deal, that’s all.” Bobby shrugged, shaking his head.
The brothers shared a look, confused, and then Sam’s mouth spoke before he could think straight, “Well, then why did—?”
“Didn’t she steal your lottery tickets last time she stuck around too long?” Alex asked, crossing her arms.
“You boys better check your pockets,” Bobby said seriously, and then gave an exasperated sigh when they started patting down their jeans and jackets, “Not literally.” They shared another look.
“No, no— no!” Dean started walking to the open closet, where the motel’s wall safe was mounted, his hand wrapped around the handle and pulled it open. Too easily. It was unlocked. There was nothing inside.
Sam’s mouth hung open, “The Colt,” Dean slammed the safe shut, “Bela stole the Colt.”
“Damn it, boys!” Bobby cursed loudly.
“I was gone for like two hours, tops, Bobby.” Alex looked at him, “You let her have time to crack a cheap safe? When we know damn well she brags about being a ‘great thief’.” She mocked her British accent at the last part, crossed her arms furiously, “She could be anywhere by now, and I hate to say I was right but Sam— as far as I can throw her, I told you! She can’t be trusted. Ever.”
“We haven’t got time to point fingers,” Bobby grumbled, Alex opened her mouth and then shut it.
He was right. Now’s not the time to get distracted. “Fine.” She agreed reluctantly.
“Pack your crap,” Dean barked at Sam, then marched across to his bed to pack up his duffel.
“Why?” Sam turned around, tracking his movements, “Where are we going?”
“We’re gonna hunt the bitch down.”
