Sorry for missing last week - I ended up throwing out the entire ending of this chapter and rewriting it, which took a lot longer than I had expected. Anyways, this is the last chapter for a while until I get the rest of the season done: unfortunately, between work, relationships, and general life things, I only have a few hours a day to write. But, fortunately, I have a pretty detailed outline that I'm following so I get to skip the planning stage.

As always, thank you for sticking with me and reading along!

The two weeks that followed Lucifer's appearance in Sioux Falls were full of directionless travel, weaving back and forth across the states. Or so Alex had thought. No matter what road she chose, no matter what town she passed through, every night she found herself further east than the night before. Closer to Lucifer than the night before. Even the days that she followed the sun, even when she set her sights westwards, something always pulled her back east. A highway here, closed by falling rocks from the surrounding mountains, the hint of a case there — it all drew her towards the sunrise. It was almost a relief the morning that Sam had called her. Despite Alex's hesitations, she had answered and listened to his pleas for her to meet him in Kansas. No Dean, he had promised. Just him and Cas. Just to talk. And again, despite her reservations, Alex had accepted. Finally, she had a reason to travel east.

And so two days later, Alex found herself standing in the parking lot of the rustic Faybian Motel. The unease that had followed her up Interstate 40 had been minimal, little more than a prickle in her wings; the discomfort was well worth the relief of no longer fighting the urge to turn her head eastbound. But now, as she stood on the cracked paint that decorated the asphalt, that unease had returned tenfold. And for good reason.

The Impala lay in front of her. Alex's wings, pale and translucent, flittered as she eyed the gleaming black paint. Sam had said he and Castiel were there alone; but what were the odds that the Impala was somewhere Dean wasn't? I'm here. Alex lingered by her stolen truck as she sent the text, but when a response didn't immediately come, she shoved her phone into her pocket and stepped forward. She had promised Sam that she would walk through those doors, and she was going to do that, Dean or not.

The motel door was warded: she could feel it in her grace as she stepped past the Impala. So what? that inner voice chided, and she looked down at her extended arm, where the black marker was beginning to fade. You're warded, too. Even still, she hesitated on the threshold, one hand wrapped around the door handle. Whatever sigils had been raised, they prevented her from probing past the walls. But the door was unlocked.

Inside, the room was dark. Alex frowned at the dimness that greeted her, and she lifted her grace to her eyes to combat the gloom. The wardings pressed down around her, a buzzing fly in the recesses of her mind, but even still, her grace shifted within her, twisting her stomach. Alex forced the sudden pang of discomfort back down. "Hello?" She shut the door and stepped further inwards. Sam sat on the bed in front of her, both feet planted on the thin motel carpet. He was watching her, unmoving, and Alex's stomach flipped. "Sam? Are you okay?"

The distraught light in Sam's eyes was the first sign of danger; the hands that grabbed Alex's wrist were the second. They yanked her back, the scuffle of her feet lost beneath the yelp that was ripped from her throat. Her wing collided with a solid body, and Alex instinctively reached down for Lucifer's grace. There was nothing. Panic exploded in her chest and she twisted, teeth bared; a deep-throated shout punctured the air as her canines sunk into flesh. The grip on her right arm loosened and she ripped it free, her eyes glowing a pale blue that cut through the darkness.

The light died as something clamped around her wrist, cold as steel, and Alex screeched. One second, her grace had captured her eyes, pumping through her veins like blood, and the next second, it was gone. Vanished. Her chest was cold and empty. The hands that held her fell away, but Alex barely noticed, stumbling back with another wordless scream. Without her grace, nothing secured her angel blade. It fell from her sleeve with a clatter, bouncing off of her foot and skittering across the room. "What did you do to me?" Alex's fingers scrabbled at the loop of metal around her wrist, her voice little more than a breathless wail. Her grace was just ... gone.

Her legs wobbled, and then her knees gave out, sending Alex crashing to the ground. Her lungs felt empty, void of life, and she gasped for air. "Hey!" Sam's voice sounded distant, but a second later, she felt him kneeling at her side. "You said it wouldn't hurt her!"

His hands on her body grounded her, shocking her back into reality. Alex rolled over onto her side, eyes screwed up as the lights flickered on, chasing away the shadows into the recesses of the room. A silver bracelet sat snugly against her wrist, warm and smooth; Alex's fingers twisted it, and a sob stuck in her throat. There wasn't a clasp. It was one solid piece of ... something.

Her eyes snapped upwards at the rustle of fabric. Crowley was leaning up against a wooden table, a crystal glass in one hand. Dean stood by the closed door, his arms crossed; from the way he was scowling and rubbing at his bicep, he had been the one who had grabbed her. Her head whipped side to side, eyes wide. What were they doing here? "It won't hurt her." Crowley answered Sam's question, drawing Alex's eyes back onto him. "But she's powered down, as promised."

"What did you do?" Castiel stepped out from the corner, and Alex let out a wordless shriek. She could see his vessel, tall and tanned, but his wings ... Alex twisted, and she almost fell over as she scrambled to her feet. Her wings were gone. Her fingers scrabbled across her shoulders, but the skin beneath her jacket was flat and smooth. No wings. No grace. No angel. "I can't feel our bond."

"Good. That means Lucifer can't either, right?" Dean stepped away from the door, and Alex backed away from him, only stopping when her knees hit the bed. His eyes barely lingered on her before passing onto Crowley. "Right?"

"Theoretically, yes." Crowley swirled his drink, and Alex steadied her trembling jaw as she tried to ignore the emptiness within her. What the hell was going on? She felt his gaze upon her, and she fruitlessly tried to push the thin cuff from her wrist. "That bracelet binds and neutralizes her grace, wings and all. All that's left is her human soul. Even if Lucifer can recognize it, it'll take him some time to find it among the million others."

It took Alex a second before she realized that her mouth was hanging open. She worked her jaw, searching for words, but ... Her mind felt numb and empty, just like her chest. "Unless she told him where she was going," Dean added flatly.

A pause ensued, but Alex didn't answer. Her thumb was growing sore from the fruitless attempts at prying the bracelet free, but there was no grace to soothe the ache. "Unlikely," Crowley finally said. "My sources say she's been traveling alone. She hasn't had contact with him since Sioux Falls."

"What do you want from me?" Alex dropped down onto the bed, wings curling to — no. Her shoulders hunched, but there were no wings, no brush of feathers against her arms to comfort her. Just emptiness. "If you" — She paused to draw the back of her hand across her nose, holding back a sniffle — "if you know I'm not w-with him, why am I here?"

The bed squeaked as Sam sat down next to her, and Alex drew her knees up into her chest. "We just want to talk."

"Talk?" If she still had feathers, they would have bristled. "Why is it that every time you guys want to talk, it involves locking me up?" Alex dug her nails into the bracelet, spinning it around as she searched for the clasp — there had to be a clasp. It sat so snugly against her skin, how else could Dean have gotten it onto her? "How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not picking sides?"

Sam looked up at Dean, and Alex watched a series of glances pass around the room. "She — I don't think she knows," Sam eventually said, and Alex shrunk back as Castiel strode forward.

His hand caught her wrist, the grip immediately softening as a tremor passed through her limbs. His fingers were warm, and Alex's chest constricted in a silent sob. Her bond to him was gone; for the first time in years, she was alone — no Castiel, no Lucifer — and she curled her free hand in the comforter to keep from reaching out. Castiel turned her palm upwards, calloused fingertips brushing across the weathered sigil drawn on her skin, smudged by her scuffle with Dean. "She's warded herself." His voice was loud enough for all to hear, but when he dipped his head to look Alex in the eyes, there was nothing but quiet concern. "She wouldn't have felt it."

Felt it? "Felt what?" Alex pulled her arms back into her chest as Castiel stepped away.

"Lucifer." Crowley's voice had Alex's head snapping towards him. Despite the relaxed, confident posture he had adopted as he leaned against the sturdy table, his dark eyes held an intensity that rarely surfaced. "He's fathered a child."

'Other suitors' Alex fought back in vain against the cold shock that gripped her chest, but no matter how much she struggled, it held her still. "You're lying." Fury welled up, breaking through the ice, and her voice froze over. "How many enaiish are left? Two? Three?" She scoffed. "None of them are unmated, and none of them would let Lucifer within one hundred feet of them."

Her scathing words barely grazed the demon's composure. "It's a nephilim."

"No — you're lying." Alex's legs trembled, and she forced herself to rise up on shaky feet. "That — is this your plan? Make up some bullshit story and get me to turn against him?" The sympathetic grimace on Sam's face had her confidence faltering, and her eyes widened as she turned to Castiel; he wasn't even looking in her direction. Crowley and Dean wouldn't hesitate to lie to her, but those two ...

Alex sank back down, unable to stop the shiver that gripped her limbs. "You think Lucifer might have followed Alex here." Crowley must have said something else, because she heard Dean's voice ringing in her ears. They have to be lying. Anger burned at her cheeks, but the hole gnawing at her chest took away its edge. Lucifer couldn't have done that. All that bragging had just been talk, an attempt to stir up jealousy, but he couldn't have actually ... Her toes curled in her boots even as her chest constricted. Luc — The prayer jumped to mind, quickly quelled, and Alex rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. She wanted to weep from the emptiness inside of her.

"Well, if he did, we don't have much time —"

"If he followed me, he'd already be in here." Alex lifted her head, and Sam fell silent. "But he's not. I told him to stay away from me." Her eyes turned back down as Crowley's face darkened. "If he was, you'd already be dead." That last sentence was muttered, barely audible, but the room was so silent that the words hung in the air.

"Perhaps it's time we get going." Castiel was the first to speak up, and Alex tugged sharply on the bracelet. "Before he does decide to make an appearance." She didn't hear Crowley make his exit, but by the time she looked back up, the demon was gone.

"Cas is right." Dean was already on the other side of the room, his bag slung over his shoulder. "It's time to go." The bed behind Alex dipped as he tossed Sam's backpack onto the mattress. Two steps took him back to the center of the room, and Alex forced herself to hold his gaze as he added, "You good to walk out of here?"

"Is my only other option is you knocking out my lights?" Remarkably a note of scorn tinged her voice. "Yeah, I'm good to walk." Alex pushed herself to her feet, stubbornly shrugging off Sam's hand on her shoulder; she could hold herself up despite how frail her legs felt beneath the weight of her body. "Lead the way."

Lebanon, Kansas

The bunker lights were humming above her head. Every so often, one of the bulbs would flicker, but they never burnt out. With her head leaned back over the chair, Alex stared up at the lights until spots danced in her eyes. How could anyone change a lightbulb that high up? Her fingers toyed with the smooth silver bracelet locked around her wrist, a mindless, fruitless hunt for the clasp.

"Hey." She heard Sam's voice from somewhere behind her, and she reluctantly swiveled towards the source. He was approaching from the side hallway, a plate balanced in one hand, a bowl in the other. "How are you feeling?" The question went unanswered as Alex swiveled back away, head tipping to once again stare at the raised concrete ceiling. "I, uh, brought you lunch. Crowley said you might get hungry now, so I figured, uh ..." The ceramic clicked against the table as Sam set the food down. "I hope you like grilled cheese and tomato soup. It's sort of been Dean's go-to for the past couple of weeks, so there's more if you want it."

"I'm not hungry." The low grumble of her stomach overshadowed her lie, and Alex tried to hide it by swiveling again, praying that the old chair would squeak. It didn't.

To her dismay, the chair behind her did as Sam sat down. "How are you feeling?"

"Empty. Leave me alone."

"Alex —"

"Sam. I said leave me alone!" This time, the chair did squeak as Alex whipped around. "You know what that means, right? It means get the hell away from me!" For a moment, her eyes dropped down onto the food, and she felt her mouth start to water — no! Alex tore her eyes away, grinding her teeth together. Why did she have to be human again? From the corner of her eye, she saw movement, and Alex grimaced as Dean stepped into view, a beer in his hand. "Great. Now you're both here."

She felt Dean's eyes move across her as she swung away, her back to the brothers and her arms crossed. For a few moments, the brothers were quiet — the two Winchesters were sure to be having one of their silent conversations. "Give us a minute, would ya, Sam?"

Alex's stomach sank as she heard Sam rise up. A second later, the same chair squeaked as Dean sat down in the vacant seat. Sam's footsteps were quickly fading — was that a pause, him hesitating on the threshold before he disappeared? Without her grace, she couldn't tell. "Well?" she muttered once Sam was gone. "You here to hit me again?"

She heard Dean exhale, a long, exasperated breath. "Turn around, okay? I just want to talk to you." Something in his voice, a note of earnest, had Alex reluctantly swiveling.

"That's why I came to the motel," she retorted, and she spun the bracelet around her wrist. "And look where that got me. As far as I'm concerned, I don't want to hear a damn word from you."

She started to turn, but Dean reached out to grab the arm of her chair. "What the hell happened to you, huh? You used to be so good about knowing right from wrong."

Alex snorted. He was one to talk. "I guess I grew up."

"That's not growing up! You just got blind." Anger crept into Dean's voice, and it took him a moment to swallow it back. "Look, I know you don't like it, but I — this isn't easy for me either, seeing you like this." Alex scoffed at his words, and Dean frowned. "Hey, I'm serious, alright? You think I would be doing this if I didn't care? I was there for you as much as I could be when we lost Bobby — when we lost Cas. And I was always willing to lend a hand when you were with Ash. Hell, even when you were working with Crowley, selling your soul, I worked as many dead-end leads as anyone else to break your deal. But this? Lucifer? How am I supposed to save you from something you're choosing? Cause I'm all out of ideas."

"Save me? There's nothing for you to save me from, Dean! Why can't you just try and see my side?" Again, Alex's stomach grumbled, and her eyes darted towards her plate.

She quickly tore her gaze away before Dean noticed; he seemed too absorbed in her words; he had paused to mull them over, hiding his hesitation behind a sip of his beer. "There's no side to see," he finally said.. "You're defending the guy who tortured Sam. He broke Cas' head." The bottle clinked against the table as Dean set it back down, and Alex squared her jaw at the intensity in his gaze. "Just think, huh? All those years in your head — what has he done to you?"

What? For a second, Alex faltered. "Do? He didn't do anything!"

"Are you sure? Because I remember you waking up in tears because of him."

"Yeah, cause I was scared of him at first. But the more time I was forced to spend with him — and we were both forced, Dean, cause we both showed up there without choosing to — the more I started to realize that he's not that different from you and I." Dean's expression didn't soften, and to Alex's surprise, indignation blossomed in that void in her chest. "He's not just some disembodied light that tortures and kills! There's a whole person there with thoughts and feelings."

"And let me guess. You're the only one who gets to see that side of him."

"I'm the only one who's tried!" The indignation and frustration boiled over, and Alex threw up her hands. "How many times have you talked to him? Like actually talked to him. Let me guess — you've never even bothered to ask how he's doing."

"No," Dean relented. "I've been too busy worrying who he'll kill next." For a moment he was silent, watching her, and Alex's eyes slid downwards. "What happened to that wide-eyed girl who just wanted to hunt? All this angel bullshit ... it's gone far enough." Alex resisted the urge to pull away as Dean reached out. His fingers didn't quite make it to the bracelet on her wrist, but the action was enough to draw Alex's attention down into it. "So until further notice, all of that angel stuff — it's cancelled. You'll have plenty of time to get your head straight." With a creak of his chair, Dean rose to his feet. "You should eat up. I got the soup at the supermarket in town instead of at the Gas N Sip, so you know it's good."

Reluctantly, Alex looked down at her food. It did look good. "We'll see about that," she muttered, and she fiddled around with the spoon that Sam had brought out with the bowl. "I'll get this damn thing off of me soon enough, just you watch. Even if ..." She trailed off when Dean stepped away, and Alex picked at her soup as she watched him move up and into the library. She would get it off, long before whatever arbitrary date Dean would pick. And then, she would find Lucifer to straighten out this entire mess once and for all. She was stuck here underground with nothing but time: there was nowhere Dean could hide the key that she couldn't find.

As it turned out, apparently there was. The bunker was huge, and after almost two full days of fruitless hunting, Alex had all but thrown in the towel. Dean knew she was looking — he had known it after the second time he had found her in his room, searching under the overturned mattress — and he had undoubtedly taken precautions. Either the key was being kept on his person, or it was being safely stored outside of the bunker. Both places she had no access to.

The bunker doors had been kept under tight lock and key ever since her arrival. And thanks to the bracelet, coupled with the Winchesters' relentless restrictions, Alex had found herself sliding into the vicious cycle of eating, drinking, and sleeping. Human things. But perhaps their necessity was a blessing in disguise: there was little else to do but to read and study her latest restraint. The more that she stared at the bracelet, the more she ran her fingers over the smooth, warm metal, the more she was convinced of its origins. By the third evening, she was confident that it was heaven-made. Crowley himself had proven the versatility of the angelic metal when he had melted down an angel's blade to make bullets — the very memory still made her leg throb. Who's to say that, with a little spellwork and some creativity, he couldn't have designed this as well?

With an audible sigh, Alex forced her mind back onto the book she held in her lap. Dwelling on the properties of her restraints hadn't helped her in the past four days, and doing so now was sure to only yield the same results. Still, she couldn't keep her eyes on the faded Greek text — aided only by her rusty lessons from Bobby Singer, it was all she could do to translate one sentence at a time — and instead found her eyes turning to Castiel. The seraph was seated in the library with her but at the opposite table; it was painfully obvious that he had done his best to place himself as far away from her as possible. Quite the opposite strategy from Sam, who had settled down directly across from Alex less than an hour before. His head was buried in his laptop, eyes skimming across the screen. Alex's head was simply swimming. It had to be because of the book; the jostled handwriting and the foreign script would make her go cross-eyed sober. And right now, she definitely wasn't sober. Alex reached for her glass, frowning at the few drops of whiskey that remained. Two glasses were going much further than they used to. With another sigh, Alex reached for the half-empty bottle. Could she handle a third? Maybe not, but there was nothing left in the bunker for her to do but drink.

"Hey." Sam's hand found hers before it could find the bottle. "Maybe it's time to give that a rest. You don't have the same tolerance you're used to." His fingers squeezed her wrist before he pulled away, grabbing the bottle in the process. "Finding anything interesting?"

It took Alex a second before she realized he was motioning to the book in her lap, and her eyes quickly dropped down. "Uh, nothing. This just seems to be a collection of obscure myths. Astra Planeti, or, uh, Aeacus and Rhadamanthus." Her gaze flickered over to Castiel, but the seraph was still staring down at the newspaper in his hands: was he reading that, or was he just pretending? "I'm not really paying much attention."

Her eyes turned back towards her book, pausing only momentarily on the bottle in Sam's hand before continuing on. The silence that followed wasn't long, no more than a minute, before Castiel's newspaper rustled. "Did the bunker's warding fail?" he asked, and Alex cast him a sideways glance at the flat, dry tone. She instinctively reached out with ... nothing. Whatever limited human senses remained, none were strong enough to detect the bunker's wardings or lack thereof.

"I just powered it down," came a reply, and a second later Dean stepped into sight. His red flannel hung open, bunched around the hips from where one hand was shoved into a pocket, and he gave Alex a small nod before he crossed the room. The look lasted barely a second, and then his attention was elsewhere. "Crowley called, says he has big news about the nephilim. Hopefully he's figured out where it is."

Alex winced, and she buried her head back into her book. There wasn't enough alcohol in her bloodstream for this conversation. "Wait wait wait." Sam had set the whiskey down as he turned to face his brother, and Alex was quick to snatch it up. "Wait a second. So now ... Crowley can what, just drop in whenever he feels like it? I-I prefer keeping Crowley at a distance. A long distance."

"Not very charitable, Moose." The sound of Crowley's voice directly behind her had Alex startling, and the neck of the bottle clinked against her glass as she almost sloshed the whiskey out onto the table. "Particularly since, once again, I'm saving both your asses." The sound of his voice had moved closer, and Alex stiffened as she felt his hand run along the back of her chair. "Rough day, kitten?"

"Fuck off, Crowley." Alex shoved the bottle away with an irritable scowl. "Why are you here?"

"Oh, hasn't Dean told you?" Crowley's voice was on the move again, and Alex watched him circle around to her right. "As you know, I'm temporarily persona non grata in my own palace." Alex watched the Winchesters exchange looks, the word 'palace?' mouthed by each, and she managed to catch Crowley's gaze in time to roll her eyes. "However," — Crowley continued on, unperturbed — "there are still those I control. Operatives."

"Crowley, can we just get the damn news without the drama?"

"Can I get you without the flannel?" Crowley shot back, and this time it was Sam who rolled his eyes. "No. Still, I endure. I have a woman on the inside, and I've had her do a little digging. Little known fact about Jefferson Rooney is that he and one of his aides have been close for the past few months — biblically speaking." Alex could feel his eyes turn to her, but she kept her attention fixed upon the table: only once the chill of his gaze moved on did she lift her glass to her lips for a long, much-needed drink. "Her name is Kelly Kline, and she's with him in Indianapolis."

Indianapolis? Alex looked over at Sam, and he shut his laptop. "Rooney was in the middle of a fundraising campaign when Lucifer jumped him," he explained. "They're staying at an estate owned by Ron Forester, the, uh, hedge fund zillionaire."

"Yeah, I've heard of him." Alex took another long drink, tilting the glass as the whiskey bit at the back of her throat. She had already made a sizable dent in what she had poured, and she could feel it in her head. "So, what? You can't actually be thinking about crashing through the front doors, right? There's probably enough security to make a small army, and that's assuming Lucifer doesn't get to you first." She watched the brothers exchange looks over the rim of her glass, and her confidence faltered as she glanced up at Crowley. "You meant — I'm the bait, aren't I?"

Dean and Sam exchanged glances once again, a series of lifted eyebrows and tight-lipped frowns. "We need to get her out of there before Lucifer decides what he wants to do with her," Sam finally said, and Alex's nails scraped against the smooth glass. He hadn't answered her question. "Of course, she's in that mansion with the President, which is guarded like a fortress. Only one of us has a chance of getting in there."

Alex's cheeks flushed in indignation before she realized that all the eyes in the room had moved past her, coming instead to rest on Crowley. "Bollocks." The word was spoken quietly, little more than a muttered curse that was quickly dismissed. "Then I suggest you four get to Indianapolis. I'll have you-know-who meet you there. Once you're settled and ready, I'll fetch the missus."

Crowley vanished, leaving Alex looking back and forth between Sam and Dean. What was he talking about? He had made it seem like he was retrieving more than one person. She didn't get a chance to vocalize her confusion before the Winchesters were already on their feet. "Five minutes, and then we're leaving. Grab only what you need." Dean was already on his way to the door, pausing only long enough to snatch the bottle of whiskey from Alex's possession. "And no more of this." He patted Alex on the head — the action was intentionally gentle, but Alex still grunted as her skull throbbed. "Better bring a paper bag if you're feeling sick. It's a long drive."

Indianapolis, Indiana

The trip had taken all night, and Alex had spent the entire drive curled up in the backseat, trying to fight back the headache and the nausea that the alcohol had left behind. As usual, Sam and Dean occupied the front seat, but by the time that Alex had first climbed into the back, Castiel was nowhere to be found. "He'll drive separately," Dean had said. Just a nicer way of saying he doesn't want to be near you. The truth hurt, roiling in her stomach alongside the carsickness, but Alex didn't fight its sting. Castiel had every right to avoid her, between their breakup and Lucifer's threats. And now, without her grace or her wings, it must be difficult to even recognize her.

She barely recognized herself.

By the time the Impala pulled up to the Plains Motel, dawn had broken, tinging the sky pink. The brothers wasted little time in bustling her into a room, bags slung over each of their shoulders, and Alex settled herself down upon the bed as they set to work. Castiel? Her eyes turned towards the door, already locked tight by Dean. Where are you?

She didn't get an answer — she never expected one — but her shoulders still slumped when Castiel appeared through the door ten minutes later, barely sparing her a second glance. A repeated, Cas, didn't catch his attention, either, and Alex slid down onto the floor, knees up to her chest as she leaned against the mattress. He couldn't even hear her prayers. Which meant that Lucifer couldn't, either.

Not that it mattered; apparently he wasn't looking for her anymore. For some reason, that thought had her eyes stinging, and Alex buried her head into her knees, eyes squeezed shut as she tugged on the smooth, slick bracelet. She could hear the Winchesters working, dragging the long wooden table across the room, but she shut out their voices. Maybe if she closed her eyes, this would all go away.

That hope was dashed by the all-too-familiar voice, effeminate and scathing. "It's not The Langham, but I suppose it'll have to do."

Alex's head snapped up, eyes stretching wide as she searched for the source of that scornful cadence. There. Rowena stood at Crowley's side, her chin lifted haughtily as she looked around the grimy room. Her white skin seemed to glow in contrast with her red hair and black dress, but her blood-red lips were twisted in disdain. Alex scrambled up to her feet, shoulders rolling back as she flared her wings — no, she didn't. She was painfully aware of the lack of weight on her back, of the lack of feathers that didn't brush against her skin. The room had fallen silent, and Alex's feet carried her two steps before she threw herself forward.

A cold, invisible hand seized her before she could reach the witch, freezing her in her tracks. Its sudden presence punched the air from Alex's lungs, and she wheezed, her balled fists clenching tighter as she fought the gasp that its phantom cold brought. For half a second, her stomach flipped at the memory of Lucifer's grace. But that chill had been refreshing, a rushing, icy river on the first day of spring. What held her was solid, burning where it touched her bare skin. All it took was a look at Crowley to confirm that he was the one responsible. "What is she doing here?" No matter how much she willed her muscles to struggle, those cold bonds held fast.

Rowena's lips curled in a sneer, a break in her composure that barely lasted a second before it ended in a sniff. "I suppose it was too much to hope that you wouldn't find your way back." Her chin tilted higher as Alex snarled. "How do we know we can trust her?" The question was directed over Alex's shoulder towards the Winchesters. "It's a miracle she hasn't brought Lucifer down upon us yet."

Alex heard the rustle of clothing, but she refused to turn her head to see who had moved. "We can't trust her." Dean's voice came from her right side. "Not on this. But she won't be able to contact Lucifer until he walks through the front door." He motioned behind Rowena to where a set of double doors were open wide. There was a room beyond it, a mirror image of the one they occupied. Some of the tension slipped away from Alex's shoulders as her eyes left the witch. That was where they had taken the table to. It now sat just past the door, already decorated with a wide assortment of jars and candles all crowded around a metal bowl. Something else lay on the table, large and rounded, but it was covered by a black cloth. They were preparing a spell?

The force that held her tight relaxed, and Alex grit her teeth as she waited for it to vanish completely. "Why is Rowena here?" she repeated, voice tight as she struggled to hold back her rage. "What exactly is your plan?"

The adjoining room vanished as Sam circled around to stand in front of her. "Don't worry about her for now, okay?" He nudged her back, and Alex reluctantly let him lead her to the bed. "We got everything on your list," she could hear Dean saying to Rowena, but Sam stubbornly kept them from Alex's sight.

Gentle pressure on her shoulders had Alex dropping onto the bed with a bump. "What is she doing here, Sam? She — do you know what she did to me?" If Alex had wings, they would have trembled. "You can't trust her!" She ducked to one side, and the sight of Rowena, standing over the table, had Alex leaping to her feet. Of course. They wouldn't dare — "This isn't about the — the nephilim." The word stuck in her throat, but Alex forced it out. "You're going to try and send him back to hell." Sam turned his head away, eyes dropping to the ground, and Alex lunged forward, shrieking against the hands that yanked her back. "You can't!" Her arms swung wildly, and Sam grunted as her elbow caught in the crook of his neck. "You can't send him back to the Cage!"

Crowley's head turned, and Alex's eyes bulged as he pressed a finger against his lips. Her lungs constricted, breathless, as a fiery band settled around her throat, squeezing out a winded choke. The reprimand lasted only a second before it released her, but still Alex sagged back onto the bed, spluttering as she fought to breathe. The back of her throat was burning as tears sprung up. She swallowed them back, scrubbing at her nose as she hiccuped. "You c-can't!" she repeated; the words barely got out. "P-P-Please, Sam."

The mattress sunk as Sam dropped down beside her, and Alex wrapped her arms around herself, head turned away from the warm hand on her knee. "Crowley, do you think you can get Kelly here in the next five minutes?"

Alex didn't have to look up to sense the wryness that twisted Crowley's words. "I can fetch her now." A faint shift of the air signalled his disappearance, and Alex drew her legs back up onto the bed. With a single pat to her knee, Sam rose up, leaving Alex to sullenly glare after him as he crossed over to his brother. "Look," he murmured, and Alex had to strain her ears to hear each word. "It's not too late to go get another room. Alex shouldn't have to be here for this."

She could feel Dean's stare burn into the side of her face. Alex gave the bracelet a sharp spin; anything to seem preoccupied. "We can't cut her loose," she finally heard him say, and the sound of running water filled the room and Dean turned on the tap. "Not now that she knows."

"I know, but Ketch's HPG —"

"Won't work on her," Dean finished, and Alex's fingers stilled as her curiosity was piqued. HPG? Ketch? Her eyes flickered towards the table, warily eyeing that smooth, oblong figure that lay covered. That had to be it, right? What else could it be? "Not with that thing on her arm."

"You — you can't send him back while he's in a vessel." Somehow, her voice didn't crack as she spoke, but her jaw did tremble, and Alex grit her teeth as their eyes turned back onto her. "That's what got him out of hell in the first place, remember?" Dean's face darkened, and Alex ran her fingers up her arm as she forced a laugh, a sound more pitiful than scornful. "H-How do you expect to get him out, huh? You g-gonna — you gonna let him kick you around a-and hope his vessel breaks down like last time?"

The brothers exchanged looks; a lift of Sam's eyebrows and a twitch of Dean's lips was all that was needed, and Sam's jaw ticked as he turned away, shaking his head as he crossed back to Alex's side. The meaning of the conversation was lost upon Alex, and she let her eyes turn past the two. Just in time to see Crowley flicker back into view, a wide-eyed woman at his side.

Alex was on her feet before she even realized it, stopped from advancing by Sam's arm barred across her chest. The woman's eyes, as dark a brown as her shoulder-length hair, were a little too close together, her nose a touch too long, to be considered delicate or alluring, but there was a soft glow to her face: a motherly face. "That's Kelly Kline?" That's who Lucifer chose over me. Alex's shoulders rolled back, but there were no wings to flare, not grace to churn within her. Only emptiness. "She ..."

"Why don't we let Kelly take a seat." Sam nudged her back, and Alex let her feet follow his lead, retreating across the room so that the woman could sink down onto the bed. Dean was at her side a second later with a glass of water and a word of encouragement, and Alex slunk back to the corner to avoid him as he stepped away. "This is probably a lot for her."

"It's a lot for me." The muttered words went unanswered, and Alex leaned up against the wall, her shoulders flat against the plaster as she crossed her arms. "What did he see in you, anyways?"

Kelly looked up from her glass. "I — I'm sorry, what?"

"Lucifer." Alex pushed herself forward, ducking under the hand that went up to stop her approach. "Why you?" She jerked back at Dean's growled, "stop her," and her fingers wrapped around the bracelet, yanking it against her wrist. "What does he see in you? Did he promise you something?"

She didn't realize she was shouting until Sam's arms were around her, gripping her tight and holding her back. "Shh. Calm down." His lips were against her ear, and when Alex froze he moved, resting his chin on top of her head. "It's okay."

"Get off of me, Sam." Alex felt the Winchester stiffen in surprise at the chill to her tone, and she tore herself free. Kelly was watching them with wide eyes, and Alex drew in a deep breath to steady her voice before she spoke again. "Lucifer is ... possessing Jefferson Rooney," she began, "and you ..." Anger had her tongue faltering, flushing her cheeks, and her fists clenched at her side as her stomach knotted. Child. Lucifer's ... child. No, it couldn't be.

"No." Kelly's eyes flickered from her, moving across the other men in the room. "No, you ... you're making it up." The woman forced a small laugh, thin and dry, and Alex squared her jaw "I know what some people say about him, but ... that's impossible."

"Well, to be fair, so is teleporting," Dean reminded, and Alex scowled; now wasn't the time for that light-hearted tone. "But ta-da. Here you are."

The woman's lips parted, and her voice trembled slightly as she fought to control the surprise that paled her cheeks. "W-Who are you people?"

From Dean's left, Rowena cleared her throat, and Alex clenched her jaw to keep from snarling. "Well, dear, I'm a witch. He's an angel." She motioned to Castiel beside her, who dipped his head, and behind them, Crowley added, "And I'm the King of Hell."

"Oh god."

"No, actually, he left," Castiel corrected, and Alex rolled her eyes.

"That's not helping," she snapped. "She — what's the plan? Do we kill her? Or the kid," she jumped to add as glares turned her way, and a defensive edge crept into her voice. "That's why we're here, right? If you wanted Lucifer alone, you would have used me as bait. You want his ..." Alex ground her teeth, biting back the anger as she finished, "You want the kid, too." Kelly's hand instinctively went to rest on her stomach, and Alex snapped her head to look somewhere else — anywhere else. It landed on Castiel, and Alex bit back a whimper before she forced her eyes onto the ground. Her chest was on fire, boiling with rage, but the pit in her stomach swallowed up the jealousy, spiraling into the emptiness. She was balanced on a tightrope between the two, precariously clinging to the thin thread that stood between her and the chasm beneath. She could feel it in her chest, a cord so taut that the softest breath might break it. But she had to know. Dean was saying something, his voice distant in her mind, but Alex interrupted. "You're sure the child is ... his."

"It's Jeff's."

The tightrope snapped. Alex knew it would, but she wasn't prepared for the fall. Wasn't prepared for the white hot pain that shot up her arm as her fist punched through the wall. "Hey!" That was Dean, his urgency lost beneath the rush of blood through her ears. "Get her out of here, okay?"

Hands took her by the shoulder, gently ushering her towards the adjoining room. Alex couldn't see who; the blur of tears left the world around her fuzzy. The soft give of a mattress hit her knees, and Alex let whoever was guiding her step back so she could sit. Warm fingers found her elbow, gently extracting her left hand from her chest: when had she cradled it up against her body? Alex blinked, trying to clear her vision, but all it did was send tears down her cheeks to make room for more to fill her eyes. Her chest contracted in a sob, and the figure in front of her — Sam — looked up. "Close your fist for me," he murmured, his calloused touch gentle on her hand, and Alex winced as she curled her fingers in as best as possible. "You might have broken a knuckle. We won't be able to tell until the swelling goes down a bit." Sam's fingers ceased their probing. "You got lucky, you know. A punch as crooked as that should have fractured your wrist."

"I wasn't focusing on my technique." The response was mumbled out, broken by a wet hiccup, and Alex scrubbed at her cheek, jaw quivering as the warm bracelet rubbed up against her skin. The pain in her hand, the pain in her chest, it was all too much. "Please. Take it off."

"I can't." Sam's hands pulled away to rest on her knees. "I don't have the key, and now ... now's just not the right time, okay? You just have to trust us."

"Trust you." Alex's voice cracked as she pulled her hand back in to cradle it against her chest. "Can I trust you not to hurt him?"

She stifled a sniffle as Dean pushed past Crowley, stopping in the doorway with a quiet cough. With a pat to her knee, Sam stood, and Alex toyed with the bracelet as she watched him leave. "Kelly's a go," she heard Dean say. "She said she's going to give him a call and arrange a meet up in this motel." His eyes flickered toward Alex, and she dropped her eyes onto her lap. "She's telling him Alex is with her and that they need to talk."

The rest of the conversation was lost to her as the Winchesters walked away, heads bowed as they spoke, and Alex turned her gaze back towards the other room. Kelly was still seated on the bed, her phone pressed up against her ear. Alex couldn't hear the words being spoken; she didn't need to to know who was on the other end of the line. Castiel stood at her side, his eyes flickering around the room, unsure where to rest. Alex couldn't see Crowley or Rowena, and she tried to scrub the tears from her eyes. Now's not the time to cry. Not in front of everyone. A hiccup interrupted her thoughts, and Alex shut her eyes as she drew in several ragged breaths to try and slow her racing heart. Calm and collected. Just like an angel. She was an angel. That thought had her eyes stinging all over again. "Hey." There were footsteps approaching, and Alex's shoulders fell as she let out a smooth, composed breath. "Sorry about that. Uh, here." A beer bottle appeared in front of her face, and Alex looked up at Sam. "Dean said you should ice your hand with this."

"Oh." Alex reached out with her good hand, her fingers sliding along the slick, cold glass. Calm and collected. "Thank you. But I'm fine, Sam." She wasn't fine; one look at her face would give it away, but Sam merely shrugged again. Good. He didn't know what to say to her either. "Kelly's talking to him now?" Still cradling her aching hand, Alex stood up, chin tilted upwards to meet Sam's eyes — or at least, she tried; she could only hold his gaze for a second before she felt her throat closing, and she dropped her eyes to the side. Calm and collected. "I need to speak to him. Before ..." She could warn him. Would that win him back — no. She had promised not to get involved. Her eyes turned onto the bracelet, and a rush of frustration caught her by surprise. Neither side deserved her help.

From the doorway, Dean scoffed. "Yeah. I think we both know that's not happening. We shouldn't be letting you anywhere near him."

"Great, so what's the alternative? Hogtie me and toss me into the bathroom?" Alex did her best to cross her arms, wincing as her elbow brushed against her swollen knuckles. From behind Dean, Kelly was hanging up the phone, and Crowley stepped into view, doing nothing to hide the fact that he was listening in. His presence only increased her indignation. "Great. If I'm such a liability, what's the point in me even being here?"

"Don't skirt the truth, Dean," Crowley said, and Dean's teeth ground as he turned to look at the demon. "You know why she's here. Kelly and that unholy child of hers may be the bait, but Alex is the diversion. If we're lucky, seeing her like that will throw Lucifer off of his game just long enough to give us the edge."

"And if not?"

"If not," Crowley finished, "then pray he doesn't kill us." The empty glass in his hand was suddenly half full, and he swirled the dark liquid before taking a sip. "For some reason — God knows why — he's intent on keeping that promise for her sake. Hopefully, that'll work in our favor."

"Uh, excuse me?" Kelly's quiet voice drew Alex's attention from Crowley. "Jeff — uh, I — uh, he said he'll be here in fifteen minutes."

"Great. Plan on it being ten." Dean's voice grew brisk, and Alex took the opportunity of Kelly's distraction to slip past the two brothers. Crowley remained rooted in place, and Alex hunched her shoulders to make herself smaller in his eyes as she skirted by.

In the other room, Rowena was standing by Castiel, chin held high as she watched her son. The seraph beside her was as stiff as a board, clearly in some level of discomfort, judging by his tightened jaw. "Lucifer's on his way." Alex stopped in front of the witch, unable to hold back the malice in her voice. "If you want any last meals, I'd suggest you eat them now."

Rowena's lips parted, but a, "Mother," from Crowley had her closing them with a thin smile. She swept past Alex, her heels tapping against the thin, worn carpet, and Alex watched her leave with a scowl. Castiel hadn't moved — Alex half-expected something from him, a rebuke or maybe some comforting words, but he too stepped away without a sound, crossing the room to stand by Dean's side. Alex let them go. Whatever details the four of them were planning, Alex didn't want to know. Because if she knew, then she might try and stop it.

She heard Sam's murmur, inaudible, mingle among the voices, and she watched him from the corner of her eye. He was speaking to Kelly, head dipped so his face was closer to hers as he spoke in short, urgent words. After a pause, Kelly shook her head, and Sam turned away. For a brief moment, their eyes met, and Alex quickly pivoted, tugging on the thin motel curtain to peer out into the parking lot. Silent. How could the world outside be so still when she felt like she was being torn apart?

"Are you okay?" Kelly's voice pulled her from her thoughts, and Alex let the curtain fall back into place. The woman stood a few feet away, blocking the adjoining room from Alex's sight. After a second, she shifted back, eyes widening with uncertainty — oh. Alex was glaring. She softened her gaze, and the hesitation began to fade away. "I just thought ..."

"It's fine." Alex shrugged, and her toe scuffed against the motel carpet before she stilled it. "And I'm fine, thanks for asking. Just ... working through some things." Her eyes flickered down to Kelly's stomach, and her mouth dried, but she managed to add, "Not your fault. How are you holding up?"

"Uh, surprisingly, I think I'm okay." Kelly placed her hand upon her belly, and Alex immediately turned her head. Her eyes fell onto the bed, where a book had been tossed — the motel's copy of the Bible, by the looks of it. The front cover still smouldered in the shape of a slim handprint; Kelly's handprint, caused by the ... Alex looked away. "At least, as okay as I think anyone in my situation can be." A touch of humor graced her tone, but it was quick to fade. "It's been a long day."

"Yeah. Tell me about it." With a sigh, Alex forced herself to turn back around. Forced herself to face the conversation. "How, um, how long have you and Jeff been ... a thing?" Please say more than two weeks. Her tongue darted out to lick at her dry lips. Please say more than ...

"A little over four months, now," Kelly said, and Alex's shoulders sagged in visible relief. "Jeff's wife died two years ago last March, just before he announced his campaign. We had been friends at the time, and I was there by his side at her funeral, and as time went on ..." Kelly trailed off with a heavy sigh. "I assumed the changes were just stress. All the looks, all the questions. I never thought that ..."

Questions? "Did he ever mention someone else? Someone you didn't know?" Did he even think about me? That unspoken thought tore into her chest, and Alex clenched her jaw to keep it from shaking her words. "Anything to make you wonder?"

If the intensity in her stare gave Kelly any pause, she didn't show it. "No. He just kept asking ... questions. Like what it was that I saw in him. Or how he could win me back if I ever broke things off."

"And what did you tell him?"

"That it would never happen. That I wasn't going anywhere." Again Kelly sighed, and Alex felt her stomach twist. She had never told Lucifer that to his face. Could she have, in all honesty, done so? The knot in her gut grew impossibly tighter, and Alex squeezed her eyes shut. Things could have been so different had she just given up, just given in to him. "And that I loved him."

"Great." Alex's voice broke around the word. "Good for you guys. Excuse me." She shouldered her way past Kelly, eyes darting around in search of an isolated place to hide. Most of the party were still in the other room, but Castiel had turned away. His gaze flickered across Alex, quickly moving away before their eyes could lock. Alex didn't need to see his wings to know that he was still uncomfortable with her presence; it must be jarring to see her like this, stripped of the very gift he had given. She could feel Kelly's eyes on her back, and Alex slunk to the furthest corner of the room, back towards where her fist had broken through the papered drywall. There was a squeal of tires from beyond the motel, and Alex felt her heart leap in her chest. Lucifer would be here soon — what was she going to do? What was she going to say to him? Her eyes darted over to Kelly, not lingering before moving on. She should be screaming, teething with jealousy, but all she felt was fatigue tinged with fear.

Lucifer slept with Kelly. He slept with her and now there was a child and ... there was the jealousy, the red that filtered in and gripped her chest with its molten fangs. But its hold relinquished almost as soon as it had come, the torrents that swept through her receding like the tide and leaving behind doubt and fear. Was this her fault, pushing him away to this extreme? She could have stopped this, and all it would have cost her was her stupid pride. He wanted one word — one short and simple word — and there would have been no nephilim, no trap in the motel. No bracelet. Just ... him.

The fifteen minutes passed in a blur. Alex paced back and forth, pouring over every scenario she could possibly imagine, practicing every word until she could recite them in her sleep. How would Lucifer react? Would he be angry? Defensive? Would he plead for her forgiveness, or would he deny that the child was even his? Before she knew it, there was a knock on the door, and Alex's head snapped up, eyes wide. The double set of doors that led into the adjoining room were shut, hiding those behind it from view. The only ones still in sight were Kelly and Castiel; as Alex watched, the seraph murmured something in the woman's ear before stepping away towards the open closet. Alex sidestepped to make room, and Castiel paused. "Don't talk to them," he murmured. "They're here to sweep the room."

They? Before Alex could ask, he stepped inside, closing the folding doors behind him. Alex turned away with a shake of her head. Kelly was at the door, peering out before unlocking it and stepping aside, and Alex sank down onto the far bed. Three men entered, all dressed in black suits; Alex shifted at the sight of the earpieces. "Ms. Kline." The one in the lead, a tall man with a narrow face and dark hair, gave Kelly a nod before turning his eyes around the room. They landed on Alex, and a hand went to his jacket where his gun was undoubtedly stored.

"Rick, it's okay." Kelly reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. "She's with me."

"Ms. Kline, she's a known conspirator with the Winchesters." However, Rick's shoulders loosened, and his hand fell back to his side. "Search the room," he ordered the two behind him. "President Rooney said to be careful if she shows up unannounced."

"He ... should be expecting me," Alex said slowly, glancing at the closet as she pressed her lips shut.

"He said that you would try and contact him at some point." Rick moved towards her, and Alex drew her legs up as he knelt between the beds. "But he didn't say how or why." He lifted up the sheets and peered beneath the mattresses, grunting in approval when nothing caught his eye. "He spoke about you in a familiar sense. Like the two of you had met before."

Rick rose to his feet, eyeing Alex as he did so with undisguised curiosity, and Alex dropped her gaze, spinning the bracelet around her wrist. "Not exactly," she mumbled. "We've been in contact since ... since I broke things off with the Winchesters." She looked up through her eyelashes, teeth digging into her cheek as she waited, hoping that nothing Lucifer had said had contradicted her vague lie. Rick, however, said nothing as he crossed over to the hole Alex had put in the wall, fingers feeling along the inside of the plaster. Alex's eyes darted past him to the other men. One stood by Kelly. The other had opened the first set of double doors and was tugging on the second set of handles; from the frown on his face, they appeared to be locked.

The opening of the closet doors had Alex's head turning back. Castiel stood in plain sight, face void of emotion. Before Rick could react, he reached out, pressing two fingers into the man's forehead. "There's no one else in here but Alex and Kelly," he murmured. "Go wait in your car."

His hand fell away, and Rick stepped back, jaw moving as he silently repeated the given command. "It's clear," he announced, and the closet creaked as he closed the door. "Let's go."

All three left, and Alex glanced back towards the closet. Her grace reached out — no. It didn't. Her mind went through the motions, but there was nothing to move. A phantom limb that had been ripped from her being.

The effort of rising to her feet was more than she had expected, and she cradled her hand up against her chest as she met Kelly's eyes. Despite the outward facade of bravery, the faint tremble of her jaw and the paleness to her cheeks gave away the inner turmoil. Alex parted her lips, poised to speak, but a thought, a fear of being overheard by the archangel outside, had her remaining silent. Instead, all she offered was a half-hearted shrug.

The jiggle of the door handle was the only warning the two had before it squeaked open. Kelly was quick to move forward, to hold the door for the man outside, and a quiet, "Kelly," came from just out of sight. Kelly stepped back, mouth open as if she wished to speak, but Lucifer brushed her aside as he moved into the room. At least, Alex thought it was Lucifer. No wings, no grace. Just a ... person. Her chest contracted, breath hitching as she tried to hold back the noise, but it didn't stop the pair of blue eyes that turned onto her. For a moment, all he did was stare; Alex forced herself to stay still beneath the weight of his gaze. And then one second, Lucifer was standing in front of Kelly, but the next ... in a blink of the eye he was in front of her, brought there by a push of unseen wings. "Alex." His voice was as unreadable as his face, and Alex's jaw trembled as she searched his eyes for any sign of emotion. "I almost didn't recognize you." His gaze fell onto her swollen hand, cradled up against her chest, and this time, the emotion was all too vivid as his fade darkened. "What have they done to you?"

He cupped her cheek, and Alex blinked as tears sprung to her eyes. Every word she had practiced, every scenario she had planned for, none of them had predicted this. She hadn't expected his concern, his touch. His skin, so cool against hers. The world blurred, and Alex swallowed back a choked-out sob as she leaned into his hand, eyes squeezed shut as she desperately tried to imagine the touch of his grace. But there was nothing. No chill of a mountain spring in her veins. Nothing to wrap her up and hold her safe. Just emptiness.

There was a crash as the double doors were flung wide. Lucifer turned, but Alex clung to his hand, eyes shut to the world around her. For that brief moment, she could feel him — she hadn't known his touch in so long that the coolness of his skin took her breath away. "Sam." The punched-out growl broke the illusion, and Alex reluctantly opened her eyes.

Sam Winchester stood in the doorway, eyes wide as he held out his hand. Something sat in his palm, an egg-shaped contraption the size of a football and laid in gold. "Vade retro." At his command, the object began to glow. The enochian sigils, carved into the metallic sides, lit up with a blue, pulsing light. Behind him, on the black paint of the door, a white-painted sigil was glowing red. "Princeps inferni."

"Sam, what is that —" Alex stepped forward to position herself between Sam and Lucifer, her one good hand held out defensively as Dean and Rowena stepped into view. The next thing she knew, Lucifer was pushing her back with an arm; without her grace, his strength swept her off of her feet, and she was only saved from crashing into the ground by Lucifer's other hand, wrapping firmly around her waist as he pivoted. Their eyes met for half a second, hers wide and his dark, and then he whipped back around, leaving her standing on shaky legs. "We've done this dance so many times," she heard Lucifer warn. "I think we both know how it ends."

Lucifer. Get out of here. The sudden, forceful prayer had Lucifer's head spinning back around, and his irises glowed like molten iron as his eyes danced across her face, searching for ... something. It was the intensity within them that took Alex aback, the barely disguised worry that creased his face. How could he hear her? "Please." Alex's spoken word was lost beneath the crack as the lightbulbs overhead shattered in a shower of glass and sparks. A sudden wind had picked up, tugging her hair over her face, and then —

She was falling. She hadn't seen Lucifer's palm drive into her sternum, sending her back to crash into the safety of the nearest bed, but she felt the air as it was crushed from her lungs. The wind was screaming now, threatening to draw her in towards the foreign object in Sam's hand, and it almost drowned out Dean's, "Rowena! Now!"

The wind whipped at her face, but Alex forced her eyes open to watch the streams of light surrounding the golden object plunge into Lucifer's chest. Light crept up his throat, peeking out through cracks in the skin, and Alex lifted a hand to shield her eyes. "This isn't over, Sam!" Lucifer spoke through a hoarse, broken voice, and Alex struggled up off of the bed.

"Lucifer!" She stumbled forward, but Castiel's hand on her shoulder, as immovable as a stone, stopped her from advancing. Lucifer turned, and the room seemed to fall silent as their eyes met, grey on blue. And then his head fell back, eyes rolling upwards as white light exploded from his gaping jaws. It rose up through the air, twisting and coiling like a snake, and Alex ripped herself free from Castiel's hold. She threw herself forward, one hand stretched towards the light —

And screamed. The pain was fire, burning so hot it felt like ice. White clouded her vision, filling her skull until Alex thought it would explode, and time seemed to stop. She was falling, plummeting down through a frozen lake that had no bottom, sinking beneath the waves of agony. The next thing that she knew she was on the ground, staring at the carpet through glazed eyes. Jefferson Rooney lay just in front of her, his own eyes shut and his skin pale and drenched in sweat. Lucifer. Alex's lips parted, but she couldn't get her tongue to form the name. Where had he gone?

Hands hauled her upwards to her knees, and Alex's head lolled back, eyes locked on Rooney. His chest was moving, short, shallow breaths; despite all appearances, he was alive. He was alive, and Lucifer ... Alex forced her head up straight to find Castiel kneeling in front of her. For once, he seemed to have no reservations about looking her in the eye. "That was stupid."

Alex recoiled at the sting to the seraph's words. She couldn't remember the last time he had snapped. Her gaze wanted to stray, and her chest ached, sraning as she tried to reach out with her phantom grace to search for Lucifer. He was gone.

Her hand still hurt. Not just hurt, it stung and throbbed, and Alex finally worked up the courage to drop her eyes to her lap. She had reached out with her left — the adrenaline and the haste had overridden the pain from the bruised and swollen bone — and now the deep throb sat alongside a newer pain, a bright and sharp sting that cut through her palm. With the greatest reluctance, Alex turned her hand over. The top layer of skin was simply gone, burned away, and the dermis beneath was bright red, a jagged and defined stripe that cut just above her thumb and was as thick as her wrist.

Castiel's hand covering hers was the only thing that stopped a wave of nausea from sweeping up her throat, and Alex tore her eyes away. "You're lucky you didn't lose your hand," he added; the sharpness hadn't left, but his voice had lowered into a rumble. "Or your life. Touching that much raw celestial energy, it should have stopped your heart."The tips of his fingers brushed her palm, sending jolts along her exposed nerves, but when he pulled away, the pain was lessened, the redness less pronounced.

"He wouldn't kill me," Alex mumbled, and she pulled her hand in close as Castiel shifted his attention from her to Jeff. Sam was still standing in the doorway, his chest heaving as he looked around, eyes wide. Behind him, smoke still drifted up from the table, partially obscured by Rowena. A snarl leapt from Alex's throat, pain-riddled and violent, and she lunged upwards.

"Whoa!" Dean caught her before she could reach the witch, pinning her against his chest as Alex tried to wrench herself free. "Not today." His grip was unbreakable, only softening when Alex sagged back in defeat. "We gotta get out of here. No way those security guys didn't notice that."

Crowley's assent came as a hum and a nod towards Alex. "Are you boys good to babysit, or should I take custody?"

Alex stared at Crowley as her mouth fell open, poised to snap, but no words came, and it was Sam who came to the rescue. "What? We're not giving her to you. She stays with us."

"Suit yourself." Crowley put his hand on Rowena's shoulder, and the two vanished into thin air.

He's alive." Castiel rose from beside Jefferson's unconscious form, and Alex felt Dean's grip loosen further as he turned his head; once again, she tried to tear herself free, but to no avail. "He won't remember a thing." His eyes turned onto Kelly, and Alex followed his gaze with an indignant snort. Kelly hadn't moved, still standing by the front door. Her eyes were wide and her lips were moving, repeating a single thought over and over again, but no sound emerged. "Kelly."

"Oh my god." The sound of Castiel's voice opened the dam, and Kelly took a step forward on trembling legs. "Jeff? Oh my god."

From outside, car doors slammed. Dean's arms fell away, and Alex jerked free. "Cas, get her out of here," she heard him say, and Sam added, "We gotta go. Take her and go."

Jeff was stirring. Alex was halfway to him before she realized it, and her breath hitched as she dropped down at his side, steadying his head as his eyes flickered open. She knew it wasn't Lucifer — she had watched as he was ripped out into the air — but deep down, maybe ... Her chest strained as she tried to summon her grace, but all she could feel was the man's skin, warm to the touch. There was no recognition in those eyes. He didn't know her.

The door exploded inwards, kicked off of its hinges, and Alex shied away, curling over the man as the heavy door crashed into the carpet. "Mr. President!" A voice rang above the cocking of guns and the thud of footsteps. "Get on the ground! Hands on your head!" Hands grabbed Alex's jacket, yanking her back, and she shrieked as she was thrown face down onto the floor. There was scuffling beyond her, Sam's protests adding to the commotion, but Rick's shouts rose above it. "Shut up! You're under arrest for the attempted assassination of the President of the United States."

A hand pressed her head down into the thin carpet, and Alex grunted as her arms were yanked behind her, pinned against her lower back as handcuffs clicked into place, resting just below her bracelet. The bonds were unforgiving, digging into her pale skin, and Alex sucked in a breath through her nose as the person above her drew away. Cuffed and captured again. She was yanked to her feet by a hand under her arm, but Alex kept her muscles loose as she slithered back down onto her knees. The president was already gone, hauled upwards and ushered away by one of the men to the safety of his car. Sam and Dean were still on the floor, their hands on the back of their heads as two of the black-suited men secured their wrists.

Castiel and Kelly were nowhere in sight. Alex's head swiveled around, searching for any sign of them, but they had simply vanished — there. The doors to the adjoining room had been closed. They must have escaped through there. Apparently she and the Winchesters were not that lucky.

Neither was Lucifer. That small sliver of hope that he had fled back into his vessel had been crushed the moment Rooney had opened his eyes. Would he remember all that Lucifer had put him through? Once again, someone tried to haul her upwards, but Alex stayed down, staring blankly at the floor. Powered down, bound and arrested. Was this how it would end, locked behind bars? Crowley had no reason to rescue her; Castiel had no resources. The only one who would have even tried was gone, banished back to hell.

"Transport van is en route," she heard a voice by the door announce. "ETA ten minutes. And the President is secure. He's on his way back to the safehouse now."

Outside, sirens were screaming. Someone inside the room was responding, but Alex tuned out the voice, her eyes locked on the stain in the brown carpet. This was a mistake. She should have fled the minute Sam had called her, should have said yes the second Lucifer asked. But it was too late now.

She wasn't sure how many minutes she sat there, but it was the pair of hands under her arms that snapped her back into reality, yanking her up. "I said on your feet!" Rick's shout made her ears ring, and Alex let her eyes flicker over to the Winchesters. They were back on their feet, their expressions mirror images of hardened steel. Rick's nails dug into Alex's skin, and she bit back a hiss — the loss of her grace may have dampened her senses, but it had only heightened her sensitivity to pain. "Get them out of here." He shoved Alex towards the door. With her hands bound, it was all Alex could do to keep from stumbling. The Winchesters were following suit; a muttered, "watch it," from Dean was met with a hand to his shoulder, and he fell silent with a grunt.

The air outside was bright, the sun already rising high above the treelines. After the darkness of the motel room, with its shades drawn, Alex found herself shying away from the light, eyes screwed up as she waited for them to adjust. It only took a few seconds, but in that short span of time she still found herself being pushed forward, guided none-too-gently off of the wooden porch and down onto the asphalt. A large grey van sat there, the back doors open to reveal a line of benches beneath barred windows.

"Get those two inside," she heard Rick order, and a pair of hands pushed Alex back towards the curb to make room for Sam and Dean. Dean's head was held high, face darkened in a scowl as he kept his sights on the truck, but Sam's eyes found Alex as he was led past. The look lasted barely a second before he disappeared behind a black-suited guard, but Alex knew that the distraught hopelessness in his gaze was mirrored on her face. She watched as the two slid into the back of the van, their arms pinned between their backs and the solid metal wall.

A hand found her shoulder, nudging her forward, but Rick spoke before she could take a step. "Hold up." The hand fell away, and Alex squared her jaw as she forced herself to look behind her. "Crawford, Swanson, take them. Alex and I will follow." He put his hand on her shoulder as he nodded off to the right, and Alex followed his gaze to the second van that sat just past the first. Her stomach twisted, and she cast an uneasy look back towards Sam and Dean. Why was she being separated?

The look the Winchesters shared was lost to her as the two men Rick had named shut and locked the doors, exchanging a single word between them before they circled around to the front cab. The vehicle rumbled to life, axles creaking as it rolled away, but Alex was already being bustled forward before it was out of sight. The second van's doors had opened, and with a quick look around at the armored guards that surrounded the motel, Alex scrambled up to sit on the metal benches, determined to do so without the help of those around her. Even still, her eyes flickered towards the road, where the back of the transport truck was still barely visible. "I could have ridden with them," she dared to say as she settled down, shifting on the cold, hard bench. "There was enough room."

Rick climbed in, pausing only long enough to issue one last command to those outside before he sat down across from her. His eyes moved across her face, acknowledging her question with a small quirk of his lips, but he took the time to stow his gun away. "I do my best to keep co-conspirators as far apart from each other as possible," he said, and the heavy door swung shut with a clang. "Especially ones with such ... extensive reputations such as yours. Don't worry, you'll see them one last time before we reach the black site." The doors locked with a click, and Alex shifted as the van jerked forward down the road.

It picked up speed as it turned onto the main two-way street, and Alex dropped her eyes to her lap, swaying in time with the truck. The rhythm was slow, almost hypnotic, until the entire cabin shuddered and rocked. The small compartment plunged into darkness, a swirling, burning haze that filled the air one second and then vanished the next, sucked into Rick's mouth until it flooded his eyes black. Alex's head struck the wall behind her as she jerked back, and the demon across from her worked his jaw until the blackness filtered away from his gaze. "There we go. Home sweet home."

"Exorcizamus te —"

The breath was sucked from her lungs, leaving Alex gasping. "Don't bother." Rick's fist was held out, tightly clenched, and only when he released his fingers did air flood back into her mouth. "You know, I was starting to think Rick wasn't gonna get you alone for me."

"So are you gonna get me out of here or not?" Alex shifted on the bench until her cuffs clanked against the metal sides. "Well?" she snapped when the demon merely cocked an eyebrow. "Either Crowley sent you or you're here cause of Lucifer, so hurry up about it."

"I'm not here because of either." Black seeped through the demon's eyes as he chuckled. "Let's be honest here. Ever since Crowley set his sights on working with you, he's been weak. And Lucifer ... well, we all know what he thinks of demons. No, I'm here for you." He reached up to feel the stubble on his jaw, and he scowled. "Rexford, Idaho. Instead of killing that werewolf Crowley sent you after and going home, you decided to come after me. Remember that night? You spent two hours cutting me into pieces and burying me in the dirt. Who knows how long I would have stayed down there had a couple of kids not dug me up."

He bared his teeth, barely holding back a snarl, and Alex leaned back until her head was pressed up against the wall. She was unable to stop her eyes from widening, and she felt her heart skip a beat within her chest. Oh. "J-Jackson, right? I didn't think you'd be topside for another few years." And I thought I'd have my grace.

"Got out just in time to learn that Lucifer was walking the earth again. And that you were hiding under his shadow." The demon's lip curled, and just when Alex thought he was going to spit in disgust, his face smoothed. "That's right, I was called Jackson back then. But go ahead and call me Rick. I'll be in this body for a long time, so I may as well get used to its name." Alex felt the blood drain away from her cheeks, and Rick's eyes narrowed as he smirked. "What can I say? I was starting to lose hope when I learned you had gotten your grace back, but I have to give credit where credit is due. Those Winchesters not only pulled out your teeth and tossed that mutt back into the hole where he belongs, but they got you arrested by the USSS." Rick leaned forward with a flash of his teeth. "You better get used to me, little girl, because I'm the only face you're gonna see for the rest of your life."