January 26th, 2015
Fall River, Massechussets

The quiet bustle of the diner was a constant, distant hum in the angel's ears as she stared down at the table, brow furrowed in concentration. Three coins lay in front of her, spread out across the polished wood, and their metal vibrated against her grace, the tingling growing the longer she stared. "Come on." Sam's voice snapped her from her thoughts, and Alex blinked at the distraction. "Just admit defeat."

"Shh." The angel lifted a finger to her mouth as her grey eyes flickered over to Sam's hands; his thumbs were pressed together at the tip, fingers splayed outwards, and her attention once again moved back to the coins. "I'm concentrating."

"It's penny football, not brain surgery," the Winchester persisted, once again tearing her attention away from the game before her. "Take your shot or give up."

Alex pursed her lips together, electing to ignore his jab as she brought her hand out. A flick of the fingers sent one of the coins sliding into another, and she grunted in disappointment as the they spun away from their target. "Just because it's easy for you doesn't mean it's easy for all of us," she muttered as Sam collected the change, and she leaned back as she pressed her hands together to form the goal.

Her eyes flickered over to Dean; his nose was buried in his phone, as it had been since they had arrived, and she frowned as a coin suddenly hit the back of her thumb. "Dammit." She swept the coins up together as Sam added another tally to the corner of the newspaper, but the arrival of their food had her quickly shoving the pennies aside. "Hey. Dean-o." Alex whacked the Winchester in the shoulder, jerking him out of his thoughts. "Food." She leaned back in her seat so her plate could be set down in front of her, licking her lips at the sight of the steak.

She waited until the waiter had walked away before she picked up her knife, reflexively twisting it in her fingers before she cut into her lunch. "Not bad." She watched as Dean speared a fry with a fork, barely grunting out a sound of acknowledgement as he typed something into his phone. With a shake of her head, she turned to Sam. "Anything in the paper?"

"Maybe. It's hard to say." The Winchester paused to chew his food as he looked down at the newspaper. "Uh, there's been some cattle deaths a few towns over." He looked up at his brother. "A demon possibility or something?"

"No." Dean didn't look as he pointed in the general direction of the paper. "It says right there. It's probably just cause of the drought."

The newspaper crinkled as Sam folded it back up, a frown on his face. "So ... what are we doing here?"

"Uh, reason's right there on your plate." Dean finally put down his phone, and he motioned between their steaks. "Lizardo's porterhouse — U.S.D.A. prime." His phone buzzed twice in quick succession, but the Winchester ignored it. "It's the only place between Connecticut and the bunker you can get a decent steak under ten bucks."

"We're ... in Massachusetts." Alex looked up at Sam, searching for support to her statement before she turned back to Dean. "We went in the opposite direction from the bunker." She pointed to the pennies at her side, arranging them into a line. "Like, this is Connecticut," she said, pointing to the middle penny. "This one's Kansas, and this one's where we are — totally not on the way—"

Dean's phone chimed again, and Sam tipped his head as his brother hurried to answer it. "Dude, you are blowing up. Who is that?"

"Ah, it's just, uh, you know ... these alert thingies," Dean lied, and Alex cocked an eyebrow as he quickly typed a reply.

"For what?" she pressed.

"You know, monster ... stuff." The Winchester shrugged as he put his phone back onto the table, and his face twisted in indignation when Sam leaned forward and snatched it up. "Hey, hey!" He tried to lean forward, fingers grasping at thin air as Sam held it out of reach. "Uh-uh. Give it back."

"What?" Sam pressed the phone against his chest, batting Dean's hands away. "Why?"

"Because privacy ... and stuff." Dean crossed his arms, lips pressed tightly together, and Sam's smirk grew.

"Oh, privacy." He lifted the phone up so he could see, and Alex's curiosity heightened tenfold as his eyes widened in disbelief. "You're on a dating app?"

"What? Let me see." Alex jumped up from her chair to stand behind Sam, leaning down over his shoulder to see the phone's screen. Her grey eyes flickered over to Dean, slouched grumpily in his chair, before they dropped back onto the app. She recognized the picture immediately; she had taken it only a week prior, and she grinned as Sam scrolled down through the profile.

"It's not funny," Dean snapped. "And you know what? Don't knock it until you try it."

"Nice screen name, Dean." Sam's voice dropped low, a cheap imitation of Dean's sultry inflection. "Impala67."

Alex snickered, and Dean leaned forward, silverware clattering as he bumped the table. "All right, give it back." Sam once again pressed it into his chest, and the Winchester scowled. "Come on."

"Shaylene, huh?" Sam scrolled down through his conversations, and hazel eyes widened. "Dean, there are like a million messages here."

The grimace faded into a smug grin. "Yeah, uh, check out her pic."

The picture of a dark-haired woman appeared, a one-size-too-small blue dress carefully buttoned to accentuate her breasts, and Alex lifted an eyebrow as she glanced over at Dean, unsurprised by the complacent smirk. "Uh ... oh, wow. Okay." Sam shrugged, and Alex's fingers drummed on his shoulder. "Um, okay," he relented, "she's hot. But ..."

"But what?"

"But she seems uh ... kind of ... available. Like, too available." Sam returned to scrolling through the messages as Alex hummed in agreement, and he thumbed upwards, searching for a good example. " 'Oh, baby, whatever you want. I'm burning up just thinking about you.' " He read the message aloud, making sure to exaggerate the seductive tone, and Alex pulled an equally exaggerated face of disgust.

Dean's grin only widened. "They get raunchier," he promised.

"I think you're missing the point," Alex retorted, while Sam added, "I-I see that, but ... it's like a — like a Penthouse letter."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "Is that bad?"

"Maybe more like too good to be true." Alex returned to her seat, and Sam put Dean's phone back onto the table so his brother could reach it. "Like, how do you know Shaylene is even Shaylene?"

Dean's eyes narrowed in offense. "I'm sorry, is it — is it so hard to believe that an attractive, red-blooded American female could be interested in someone like me?"

Alex shrugged, electing not to answer, and Sam took over the explanation. "We're just saying there's no guarantee," he insisted. "I mean, for all you know, it could be some ... Canadian trucker named Bruce."

Dean's phone dinged again, and the Winchester grinned at the message it held. He turned in his seat, and Alex followed his gaze to find the woman from the picture standing in the doorway. Her eyes swept through the restaurant, and Dean shot her a small wave. "That look like a Bruce to you?" He smirked, and Alex felt her grin falter.

"We — we detoured eight hours so you could get laid?" Sam's eyes narrowed at the realization, and when Dean rose to feet, his face darkened in displeasure.

"Yeah. Yeah. Oh, and, uh, you know what? Lunch is on me." He dug a handful of bills out of his wallet and tossed them onto his empty plate. "And, uh ... don't wait up." He walked away, and Alex scowled after him.

"Arrogant asshole," she muttered, turning away as Dean wrapped his arm around the woman's waist. "I was hoping she'd be a man." She kicked Sam under the table before she too stood up. "Uh, anyways, looks like you'll be on your own for the afternoon."

"Wait, what?" Sam looked up from his half-empty plate, and Alex chuckled.

"In case you were wondering why I never protested this detour en route, it's because Cas happens to be in town, too, and it's been a very long time since I've seen my mate." She neatly arranged the dollar bills Dean had haphazardly thrown at them, stacking them in front of Sam before she ruffled his shaggy hair. "So, uh, like Dean, said, don't wait up."

The thin motel carpet crunched beneath her boots as Alex made her way down the hall, eyes glued on her phone as she reread the number. Room 316. It should be on this floor, somewhere. Her grace snuck out, searching for someone of her own kind, and the lights above her head flickered in response. Something up ahead twitched through the air, and Alex drew her grace back in as she lengthened her stride to reach the far door.

This was the one. The angel shoved her phone into her pocket as she rapped twice on the door before she let her grace unlock it. "Hey." She stepped into the room, and her lips widened into a smile at the sight of Castiel.

The seraph was dressed in his typical wear, trench coat hanging loosely on his shoulders, and blue eyes sparkled as he turned to face her. "Alex." His voice was a low rumble, almost a purr, and Alex drew her grace in as his stretched out. The smile faded, and Castiel stepped close. "Your grace ..."

"Crowley." Alex tucked it deep inside, trying to keep it out of his reach, and she dropped her gaze to the ground. "I'm sorry."

"I'm glad you're okay." Arms enveloped her, holding her close, and Alex's eyes fell shut as she leaned into his warm touch. "I'm sorry." His hand came up, cupping her cheek and tilting her head so he could look her in the eye. "It's been too long since I've seen you last. I ..."

"You've been busy." Alex pulled free from his hold and sank down onto the bed, shrugging off her jacket and folding her legs under her as she smiled up at him. "I'm just glad you're here now. Come 'ere."

Castiel sank down next to her, and Alex leaned over to kiss his lips. Her fingers curled through his hair, holding him close, and she grunted in surprise when hands at her hips suddenly pulled her into his lap.

The bathroom door opened, and Alex straightened up at the sight of Hannah, clothless from the waist up. Their eyes met, surprised evident on both their faces, and Alex felt her fingers tighten in Castiel's jacket. "Okay, so, I am definitely not okay with that."

"I didn't know you were in town." Hannah made no move to cover herself up until Castiel awkwardly cleared his throat. Her blue eyes dropped down to her naked torso, and after a second, realization lit up her face. "Oh." She crossed the room to where her shirt and blouse lay on the floor, and Alex turned her head.

"Yup, back in town. And you're not wearing a shirt." Her fingers once again tightened in Castiel's coat, this time purposefully digging into his skin to show her displeasure.

Castiel's own thumbs rubbed small circled into her hips, trying to appease his mate. "Hannah was just showering," he promised, and Alex's nostrils flared as she sniffed the air, trying to determine if there was something Castiel wasn't mentioning, but the only thing she smelled was the soap from the humid bathroom.

She glanced back to see that Hannah was buttoning up her blouse, and her gaze slipped past to the far wall. A map of the states hung there, pins holding string that created a meshwork of trails, and the angel frowned. "You've been working."

She stood up, ignoring how Castiel tried to pull her back as she looked at the many mug shots that surrounded the map. "We've been able to locate many rogue angels." Her mate wrapped his arms around her waist, and Alex leaned back into his chest as she studied the faces.

"Isaac came back willingly," Hannah added, coming up to stand at their side. "He didn't even resist. There are still some angels down here, but the higher-profile rogues are back."

"We'll find them all," Castiel promised. "That's the mission."

His fingers toyed mindlessly with the hem of Alex's shirt as he spoke, and the young angel hummed in acknowledgement, reluctantly allowing the change in conversation. "How are you identifying them?"

"We're keeping an eye on the news. Any signs of miracles, strange healings, deaths." The seraph pressed a lingering kiss on the top of her head as he fell silent in thought. "We're heading down to Tennessee later today. The local papers say there's a man that's been working miracles in his Parish."

"Could be a figure of speech," Alex offered, and she felt Castiel shrug against her.

"Perhaps," he conceded. "But it's the best lead that we have, and until we find something stronger elsewhere, we'll have to go check it out." His grip on her tightened. "You could come with us."

Alex leaned back into him, suppressing a deep sigh. "I wish I could. But there's things I've got to do here. A-And between Dean and Crowley ..." Alex reluctantly shook her head. "Plus the Winchesters promised me sparring practice to get my kickassery back." She sighed again, this time lowering her voice before she spoke. "Have you had any luck locating our grace?"

"Not yet." From the corner of her eye, Alex watched as Castiel glanced over at Hannah. "I don't ..."

"Metatron claims he knows where your grace is, but Castiel has refused to listen." Hannah interrupted him with a dark frown, and Alex watched as Castiel's lips pursed together. However, the angel didn't push the subject any further. "We should hit the road," Hannah decided. "You two can bring our things out to the car. I'll check us out."

Alex's phone dinged, and she looked down to see a text from Sam. Shaylene's a hooker. Working for a demon selling souls. Meet us at Astor Motel.

Alex chuckled, and she quickly typed in a reply. Called it. I'll be there in a bit. Call if you need help asap. "Alright, what are we bringing down?" she asked, shoving her phone back into her pocket. "Because I probably have about twenty minutes before the Winchesters come looking."

Castiel slipped out from behind her and starting gathering up the photos, and Alex watched as Hannah moved to help him, frowning at how the two angels moved in tandem. The pictures fit easily into a small cardboard box, pins and strings tucked in alongside, and not long after, the map was folded on top. Castiel secured the lid, and Alex held open the door as he led the way into the hall.

The third floor of the hotel was as dead as it had been when Alex had entered, but the lobby was now bustling as families hurried to move their things into their new rooms. Alex sidestepped a ten year old, eyes narrowed as the child didn't even look up from his phone; she opened her mouth to comment to her mate, but Castiel was already past the front desk. "Get in the car," she heard Hannah tell him. "I'll check us out."

Castiel nodded, and Alex slipped through the crowd to follow. "Hey." Once outside, she broke into a jog to catch up, and the seraph politely paused until she was at his side. "So, uh, Hannah's big on business, huh? Never a moment's rest."

"Our job is to locate the angels that have refused to return to heaven." Castiel stopped by his gold Lincoln Continental, balancing the box on one hip as he opened up the trunk. "With no need to eat or sleep, there's no reason for us to delay." He put the box inside and then turned to face Alex, hesitation in his eyes. "Are you sure you won't come with us? I don't know when our paths will cross again."

"Trust me, I wish I could." Alex shoved her hands into her pockets as she gave a half-hearted shrug. "But it's like I said. Crowley still has me on a leash, and Dean still has the Mark."

"And you've found no way of persuading Crowley to break the contract."

"You kidding?" Alex scoffed. "He acts like I'm the best investment he's had in years. I don't know what it would take for him to just give it up." Her grace slammed the trunk closed, and her eyes turned towards the hotel doors as she waited for Hannah to arrive. "So, you and Hannah ..."

Arms pulled her close, and the angel smiled at the warmth that enveloped her. "You have no reason to be jealous." Castiel's voice was up against her ear, his breath stirring her blonde hair. "You are Enaaish. She is not."

"I'm your mate," Alex affirmed, and the seraph hummed in agreement. "I wish I could be there with you. Being apart ... it's not right."

"It's not." Lips brushed across the back of her neck, fingers brushing her hair out of the way. "And I'm going to fix this."

"I know you are." Alex's grace stretched forward, wanting to curl inside of him, but she pulled back away at the foreign grace that resided in his chest. "If anyone is capable of saving me, it's you." She felt Castiel relax against her, lulled by her words, and after a moment or two, she added, "I wonder what's taking Hannah so long. It doesn't take much to check out."

The seraph stiffened, drawing away, and Alex fell in step at his side as he hurried back to the hotel. The lobby, while still full, was missing the brunette angel. "Hannah?" Castiel's hand closed around hers as he wove through the crowd, pausing only beside the staircase. "Alex. Take the other end. If neither of us find her, we'll meet in the middle."

"Yeah, of course." Alex broke into a sprint down the hallway, grace stretching upwards in search of the dark-haired angel. She wound up the far flight of stairs, stopping on the third floor where their room had been as she started her search.

She couldn't see Castiel, but the stretch of her grace towards their old room found both his and Hannah's grace. There was someone else, a human soul, and Alex reached back to draw her weapon as she crept towards the open door. "Castiel." Hannah's voice could be heard through the half-opened door, slow and intentional. "This is Joe ... my husband."

Alex stopped, head tipping quizzically, and her confusion was echoed by Castiel's vocal, "Oh?" She heard a man cleared his throat, and when Joe spoke, his anger was clear. "Who is this guy?"

"He ... uh ..." Hannah seemed at a loss for words, and the bed creaked as Joe stood up.

"You're saying that you're ... together?"

"What?" Alex could imagine Hannah squinting as she wrapped her head around the man's words. "Uh ... yes. I left you," she began, and her words sped up as the lie to form. "For him. He's the reason."

"No. No, I don't believe it." Joe's voice grew sharp, and Alex crept forward until she could see the inside of the room through the crack in the door. "This guy? No, there's something —" The man's eyes were stretched wide. "Caroline, you're not that kind of person, okay? You wouldn't do that. You couldn't do that."

In response, Hannah kissed Castiel. Alex's fingers tightened around her weapon, unable to tear her eyes away as the kiss deepened, and she curled her toes to keep herself from rushing in and killing the angel right then and there. Unlike her, Joe's face was one of devastation, not jealousy, and when Hannah finally did pull away, she dropped her gaze to the floor. "I'm sorry." She reached down to take Castiel's hand. "Let's go."

The two stepped out of the room, closing the door to leave Joe alone in his misery, and the moment that it clicked shut, Alex was on her feet. Her fist flashed out, connecting with Hannah's jaw, and the angel stumbled back in surprise. "New rule. You kiss my mate, you get punched."

Hannah scowled in surprise, rubbing her jaw, and Alex smirked to find that Castiel chose not to rebuke her rash actions. "I'm sorry." Hannah straightened, adjusting her blouse as she turned back to face Alex, her face as stolid and diplomatic as ever. "But I needed to give Joe a reason. He's my vessel's husband," she explained, and Alex scoffed.

"I get it," she reluctantly agreed, "but there's no way in hell I'm okay with it." She felt her phone buzz in her pocket, and her jaw clenched as she looked up at Castiel.

The seraph took her hand in his. "I'll meet you by the car," he promised Hannah, and with a nod, the angel walked away. His hand tightened against hers as he led her in the opposite direction, and Alex childishly glared over her shoulder to catch a glance of Hannah one last time. "I'm sorry you had to see it."

"I watched you kiss her back." Alex tore her hand free from her mate's, and she tucked her weapon back into her jeans, muttering a sullen, "I hate her." Her phone buzzed again, and Alex looked down at the messages they held. Girl definitely worked for demon. Raul's Girls, Elm Street. Get here asap.

"I need to go." Alex shoved her phone back into her pocket. "I — the Winchesters need me with a case."

"I understand." Castiel's face fell, and he reached down to take her hand. "I'll see you soon," he promised quietly. "I'll make time to come see you." His head dipped, lips pressing against hers, and Alex curled her hand around his neck to keep him close.

"Make sure that you do," she murmured. "I love you." Her phone rang, the high-pitched, dainty bells the ringtone for only one of her contacts, and Alex drew away with a scowl. "And that'd Crowley."

She turned away, pressing her phone up against her ear. "Hey. What do you want?"

"Now, now. That's no way to speak to your King." The demon's mocking deride had the angel grinding her teeth, but she kept her lips tight until he spoke again. "I have a little puzzle for you to solve."

"You've got five minutes." Alex pulled open the door to the stairwell, grace flicking in annoyance as she glanced back to see that Castiel was already long gone. "Not a second more, though. I'm on my way to meet up with the Winchesters."

Crowley merely chuckled at her passive-aggressive tone. "Fall River, Massachusetts. One of my men was struck down by the untimely arrival of a witch."

The angel's eyebrows lifted at the name of the town. "Well, if his name was Raul, I'm afraid I'm siding with the witch." She scoffed dryly. "Really, Crowley? Prostitutes? Even for you, that's low."

"So you've heard of him." The demon hummed curiously at the realization. "And if it's any consolation, this little scheme was run behind my back. I'm evil," he reminded, "but the sex trade — that's just tacky."

"Okay, then how'd you hear about it?" Alex pushed her way out of the hotel and started off down the street, eyes scanning the parking lot to try and catch sight of the Lincoln Continental, but the car was nowhere in sight. "Cause the way I see it, that couldn't have happened too long ago."

"Ten minutes, thereabouts," Crowley confirmed. "One of the scum dragged into Raul's little stunt fled the scene before the witch got around to him. He told me everything." The hint of a snarl in his voice left no doubt in Alex's mind to the snitch's fate.

She turned the corner, eyes flicking up towards the street sign above her head. "Okay, so what do you want from me? Cause if you ask me, it sounds like that witch did us all a favor."

"Perhaps. But a blatant act of aggression like that doesn't go without retaliation. And any witch that knows how to kill a demon is not one I want walking free." Alex heard the King of Hell rise to his feet. "It sounds like you and those two flea-bitten mongrels are already in town, so why don't you get them to stop chasing their tails and get after that witch."

"I'll see what I can do." Without waiting for dismissal, Alex hung up. The Impala lay ahead of her, pressed up against the curb, and the angel's eyes narrowed as she searched the streets for the location Sam had spoken about in his text.

Her gaze found the brick building across the street, the sleazy neon sign advertising its trade, and she crossed the empty road as her grace probed for an open door. "Hello?" She pushed her way in through the back, following the feel of the Winchesters into the main room.

"Welcome back." Dean stood behind a bar, halfway through pouring himself a drink, and Sam was kneeling down on the ground beside two bodies. "How's Cas?"

"Alive. With Hannah." If either brother heard the jealousy in her voice, they didn't comment on it, and Alex squatted down next to Sam. "So what's going on here?"

"Uh, from the looks of it ... and the smell of it ... this is demon." Sam pointed at the thick, black, sulphurous ooze that surrounded the nearest corpse's head, clogging their nose and mouth. "I — I think this is Raul."

"That would make sense." Alex dug a pen out of her coat pocket and poked at the charcoal slime. "Which means that," she added, pointing to the second body, "is our snitch."

"Snitch?" Dean's glass clinked against the counter as he set it down. "What do you mean?"

"Crowley called me. He's not pleased his demon was killed, even if he didn't authorize this little outpost." Alex rolled Raul over, fingers closing around a small black pouch with white symbols on the front. "Witch." She tossed the hexbag to Sam as she rose back to her feet. "One that I'm gonna have to track down, with or without you."

The Winchesters exchanged looks, Dean's scowl evident, but when Sam gave a faint nod, he sighed. "Course we're with you. A witch is a witch, demon killer or not." He polished off his drink and stepped out from behind the bar. "Alright, let's go back to the motel and see what we can find about uh ... demon killing spells." The stutter in his words revealed his hesitation at their task, but his face held nothing but determination. "Awesome."

The motel bed creaked as Alex spread out across it, resting her head on Sam's calf as she stretched for his fast food bag — thinking food, Dean had called it. "Hey. You haven't eaten, like, any of your cheese curds." Alex pulled the bag closer, licking her lips as she popped one into her mouth.

Sam frowned, and he pushed the bag into Alex's chest with the side of his foot. "You really shouldn't eat that," he lectured. "I-I mean, the order's called 'triple threat' for a reason."

"Hey, I can't legally die for another year," the angel quipped. "And if an order of onion rings, cheese curds, and fries is gonna do me in, so be it. Sure beats getting ripped apart by hell puppies." She winked at the hunter, trying to lighten her words, and she dug out another cheese curd as she pulled her laptop close."Anyways. Either of you find anything?"

"Nothing yet." Dean looked up from where he sat at the small wooden table, the remains of his own Triple Threat scattered in front of him. "Sam?"

"Maybe." Sam's cryptic answer was followed by silence, and when no further explanation came, Alex shrugged.

"Hey," she began. "So, uh, tell me more about Shaylene, huh?" She shut her laptop so she could look Dean square in the eye, and she heard Sam huff in amusement from behind her.

"What do you want to hear, huh?" Dean shrugged defensively, his green eyes staying trained on his screen. "She offered me sex for my soul. Thought she was a demon, turns out she was just being pimped out by one."

"That sucks. Bet your dick's disappointed." Alex gestured off towards the Winchester suggestively, winking to show her jest, and Dean scowled.

"Not to be that guy, but this is all coming from a girl who's reading Supernatural fanfiction," he retorted, and Alex slammed her laptop shut in surprise as she looked back at him.

"I —" Alex pursed her lips, and she turned on the bed so the Winchester couldn't see her screen. "I'm not reading it, okay? I'm just seeing what other people have written. And so what?" she added, sticking out her tongue. "Maybe it's nice to see that there are people out there that appreciate me, however small that group may be."

"What, you're going to look me in the eye and tell me you weren't reading porn?"

A cheese curd flew through the air, hitting Dean right in the left eye, and Alex crossed her arms. "You're disgusting," she snapped. "And come on — you're gonna tell me you've never been curious about what people are saying about you?"

Dean scoffed. "Most of it is about me and Sam fucking. Not really my cup of tea."

Alex shrugged, and she reopened her laptop. "So? There's a ton about me and Sam — almost as much as with you and him." She flashed him a grin, adding, "You just gotta push through that, man. Push through the pain."

"Yeah, that — that's nowhere near the same thing —"

"Hey, uh, guys, can we not argue about this?" Sam awkwardly cleared his throat, his legs crossing and uncrossing, and Alex patted his kneecap in a gesture of pseudo-consolance.

"Well, we are a way cuter couple than you and Dean," she teased. "Even you have to admit that. I ship it," she added over to Dean.

"So, uh, anyways, here we go." The Winchester sat up straighter on the bed, clearing his throat to gather their attention. "Um, so it looks like in the eighteenth century, there were accounts of demons killed by witchcraft. Apparently they were vanquished by a spell called defigere et depurgare which is Latin for 'to bind and purge.' "

"You think that's the same kind of spell that took out Raul?" Dean asked, and he lowered the top of his laptop curiously.

"Sounds like it. But from what I can tell, the spell hasn't been used in over three hundred years. And it was only ever known by one person, the witch who created it. Rowena."

"Never heard of her." Alex looked between the two brothers with a firm shake of her head. "Either she's still alive and doing her thing, which would make her — what, like a gazillion years old — or someone else found the spell and decided to carry on her dirty work."

Dean's phone buzzed, and the Winchester paused, mouth half open in a response. "Hey, we got a problem." He flashed the screen towards them, and Alex narrowed her eyes, trying to read the blurred words before he turned it back around. "Guy's head exploded at, uh, Bistro des Moules about five minutes ago." He slammed his laptop shut and pushed himself to his feet. "That sound witchy to you?"

It did, in fact, sound witchy, Alex mused as her eyes traced the floor, following the red misting of blood across the tiles to the still-wet pool where a body had once lay. She tugged on the sleeve of her white blouse as she turned her attention to the rest of the restaurant, now eerily vacant. "So what exactly happened here?" She could hear Dean's voice in the next room, his voice low in an authoritative tone as he interviewed the head chef, and the angel turned away and followed the sound of his voice.

"It started out like every other day." The chef's eyes flickered over to Alex as she entered, pausing a moment before turning back to Dean. "But middle of my shift, there's Marty falling down, clutching his head, stroking out right there on the floor, sweating, turning red, like ... like ..." The chef hesitated, mouth half-open as he sought for the right words.

"Like his brains were boiling?" Dean guessed, and the man nodded reluctantly. "Was there anything else unusual?"

The chef scoffed. "More unusual than our head waiter dropping dead in front of me?"

"Before that."

"I don't know." The man shook his head defeatedly. "I-I mean, I thought getting two hookers in here was pretty damn unusual, but that was before Marty keeled over."

"Hookers?" Alex repeated, and she looked sharply up at Dean. "What do you mean by that? Where they alone?"

"Well, based on what they were wearing, yeah, pretty sure they were hookers." The man's lips turned down slightly, confused by her sudden and intense interest. "And no. They came in with a lady. Red hair. We have a certain dress code around here," he explained. "I don't know why Marty insisted we serve them."

Alex hummed curiously, and Dean dipped his head. "Thank you for your time." His hand brushed across her forearm, a silent gesture for her to follow, and Alex obliged. She and Dean exited the restaurant, and the angel stretched out her grace in search of Sam. The Winchester was sitting across the street, his computer on his lap and phone up against his ear, and he looked up as the two approached. "Hey," Dean greeted. "So it looks like our witch was here with two new friends."

"Raul's girls, probably," Alex added. "Who knows why she wants them, though. What about you? You find anything on the hunter network?"

Sam nodded, closing his laptop. "Yeah. This guy Darrell's been working a case, a series of grisly hotel murders, one at the Kensington, another at the Waldorf in Cleveland — bodies impaled on the ceiling."

Dean grimaced slightly at the mental image. "Sounds a little more homicidal maniac than witchy."

"That's what Darrell thought, too, until the autopsy came back. Actual cause of death —"

"Let me guess," Alex interrupted, reaching back to run her hands through her hair before she pulled it back into a ponytail. "Boiled brain?"

Sam nodded again. "Same as our waiter," he agreed.

"Well, I'll give it to this witch; she's got deep pockets." Dean shook his head in disbelief. "The Kensington, the Waldorf, this restaurant — that can't be cheap." Sam nodded and rose to his feet, and his brother's brow furrowed. "Where are we going next?"

"We're going to check every five-star hotel in the area." Sam looked around, wondering where to begin, and as if on cue, Alex's phone dinged.

The angel turned away to look down at the text, her lips twisting into a scowl to find that it was from Crowley. Renaissance Hotel, it read. My men will meet you there; follow their lead. "Renaissance Hotel." Alex shoved her phone deep into her pocket as she scanned the streets for any sign of the building. "They're there." She could feel the Winchesters' gazes on her back, but she ignored their questioning stares as she found the black letters just down the street. "Give me a five minute heads start so they don't think we're there together."

She hurried off across the intersection, ignoring Dean's shouts for her to come back. She wove through the traffic, and the Winchester's voice was lost under the blaring horns of protest.

The lobby door was open, and Alex slowed to a walk as she stepped through. Dean was right; the witch must have deep pockets to stay at a place like this, she thought as her eyes traced the elaborate lobby interior. She paused beside a glass panel at the sight of her own reflection, taking a moment to adjust the collar of her blouse; give her a pair of wings, and she would look like every other angel in heaven.

Alex lifted her chin higher, and she reached back to draw her angel blade as she journeyed deeper into the hotel. She could feel demonic souls ahead, twisted and battered, and her eyes narrowed as she stepped into view.

"Alex." A familiar face greeted her, and the demon waved her over to the rest of the group. "Crowley said you would be coming."

"Elias." Alex dipped her head, her gaze sweeping across the rest of the congregation. "What's going on here? I assume this has to do with the witch."

"Crowley wants her tagged and bagged." The woman at the front of the group spoke, her voice thick with displeasure at Alex's arrival. "It seems he doesn't trust us enough if he sent you."

"All I was told was that I was to come here and you'd tell me what to do." Alex's answer came smoothly, and she reached back to tuck her weapon away in a show of trust. "I'm not here to kill anyone. Tell me where you want me."

"Perimeter." The woman's voice was firm. "With them." Her dark eyes flickered towards Elias before they turned over the crowd of demons. "Gerald. Stevens. With me."

Alex nodded, and she followed the demons back out of the hotel. She sent her grace outwards, feeling for the brothers, and she cocked an eyebrow in amusement to feel that they were almost there. "Come on, Elias." She waved the demon after her before pointing to two more. "And uh, you two. We'll take the alleyway out back."

She led the group away from the hunters, leaving the rest to guard the rest of the building; if those demons had any sense, they'd let the Winchesters through. She let her grace spill upwards, stretching it as far as she dared while still keeping it under control. She could feel souls, completely oblivious to the supernatural operation underneath them. "How's hell?"

"Hell." Elias spit out the word. "At least Crowley's back from his little vacation — I don't know who he thinks he is, leaving like that. He has a kingdom to run, and instead he spends his time running around with a Winchester?"

"I'm sure he had his reasons." Alex kept her voice level, her answer intentionally vague, and the demons all around her frowned. "It's not like him to never to have a plan." She paused at the alleyway, looking it up and down before adding, "I don't suppose you've tried talking to him about it."

Silence followed her words, and the angel was vaguely aware of awkward glances being passed around. "Crowley doesn't take well ... to constructive criticism," one of the younger demons began. "He's already killed five who have tried. We ... we were hoping that maybe you would speak to him."

Alex scoffed at the prospect. "We're not pen pals," she reminded; however, she felt smug pride settle in her chest at the thought that these demons thought so much of her. "I'll see what I can do," she promised after a heartbeat. "Perhaps his temper will be soothed if we can bring him this witch-bitch."

No response came, and Alex stretched out her grace. She could feel the Winchesters in the hotel, and her ears picked up the distant sound of a scream: female. Personally, Alex hoped it was that demon who had ordered her outside. She turned her ears even more, eyes drifting closed as she tried to picture the scene in her head. The demons milled around her, their sulfurous uncertainty prickling through the air, and her grey eyes flickered open. "They're coming." She could hear a skirmish on the first floor, with footsteps heading in their direction. "We should be out of sight."

Her feet carried her silently around the corner, back pressing against the stone, and the demons scrambled to do the same. She saw black eyes flash at the sound of a metal door flying open, but her grace had her keeping the demons at bay. "What'd you do?" she heard a woman say, voice high in panic. "What did you do to her?!"

"Attack-dog spell." A second voice answered, calm and disinterested, and Alex cocked her head at the thick accent. "We needed a decoy."

"But — but she'll die, just like the waiter." The women had ceased their approach, and Alex shook her head when black eyes met hers, and she mouthed out, No.

"Probably," came the response. "Few humans are built to survive magic like that, and Elle was weak. But you're not." The Scottish accent grew thicker as the witch's insistence grew. "I saw it the second we met. You're strong."

"You're right. I am." The sound of bones colliding filled the alleyway as a punch was thrown, and the first woman stalked away. The footsteps grew closer, and Alex pointed a finger at the young demon who stood across for her.

"Occuideris ingrat —"

"Not another word!" Dean's sharp command cut into the Latin chant, and Alex gave a swift, sharp nod as the woman stepped into view. Her eyes stretched wide at the sight of them, but a hand around her mouth stopped her from screaming for help. Alex only had time to see the panic flashing through her eyes before she was gone.

Perfect. The angel mouthed the word, and she turned her ear back to the alleyway. "Lady," Dean was saying, and Alex's grace felt the sleek metal of his gun, "your luck has just run out."

She heard the hammer of a pistol being pulled back with a click, and the angel's eyes narrowed at the sound; it was too harsh for Dean's weapon. The witch's laugh confirmed her suspicions. "I'm pretty sure that's not true."

A whistle sounded through the air, followed by Dean's low groan. "Pal, we got to work on your timing."

"Drop the gun, Dean-o." The voice was familiar, low and cold, and Alex pressed her shoulder into the brick wall beside her to keep herself from moving into help. Dean didn't need help; he had —

The angel's grace snapped in surprise. Where was Sam? Her grace exploded outwards, stronger than she had meant, and lightbulbs shattered in its wake. She felt Sam's soul inside, bubbling with panic, and she almost missed the witch's words. "You heard the boy." A gun clattered to the ground, and the light, delicate footsteps approached. The angel drew her grace in and stepped away from the brick wall, and with a flick of her hand, the demons fanned out on the other side.

The first thing that struck her was the witch's hair, a bright, flaming red. Blue eyes flashed in shock, and Alex almost stumbled back in surprise as a hex bag flew through the air. Instinctively, she reached out to catch it, and her grace snapped violently at the darkness inside. She drove her grace inwards, and the bag exploded into flames. "Rowena." Alex let her eyes glow blue as she dropped the smoldering remains, and the witch took a startled step back. "That's your name, isn't it?"

"Regimen meum —"

The demons swarmed from every side, overwhelming the redheaded witch, and Alex shoved her hands into her pockets as the woman was detained. Thick iron shackles became visible as the demons drew away, and Alex took a moment to trace the etched sigils with her eyes before the witch interrupted her thoughts. "What are you?" she demanded, her anger thickening her tone. "You're not a demon."

"No," Alex agreed, "I'm not. But I'm handing you off to some." She nodded to Elias. "Take her to Crowley. I'll let him know you're on the way. And I'll see if I can speak to him about his attitude," she added after a moment.

Her words seemed to sate the demons, and they and Rowena disappeared into thin air. Alex reached into her pocket, texting a hurried, Mission accomplished to the King of Hell before her feet carried her back into the alleyway.

Dean stood with his back to her, hands in the air, and the angel drew her weapon as she recognized the man who held the Winchester at gunpoint. "Cole." Alex twisted her blade, which glimmered in the sunlight as her grace fought to bond with the warm metal. "That was your name, wasn't it?"

"Stop where you are." The gun swung onto her, but the angel barely slowed her step.

"Dean?" Sam's voice came from behind Cole, and he stepped into view, gun raised. Cole spun around, blue eyes wide in sudden panic to find himself surrounded on each side.

"Hey, hey!" Dean stretched out his hands, trying to keep the situation calm. "Put the weapons down, guys! Put it down!" he snapped when neither moved. Sam lowered his gun, and Alex reluctantly did the same, slowly stooping to place her blade onto the concrete. "Cole, hey, right here." Dean drew the man's attention back onto him. "We're talking, okay?"

"Dean," Alex started, shifting closer, "what's going on —"

"Hey. Just — stay where you are, okay?" Dean waved her back, and the angel paused.

Cole's eyes flashed angrily, and the gun turned back to point at Dean's chest. "How can I believe you, huh?" His voice lifted into a shout. "How can I believe you?! My whole life, I've been ..." He trailed off, jaw trembling, and Alex edged a little closer.

"I get it." Dean's hand went out to keep the angel at bay, but his eyes didn't leave Cole's face. "That was your story. Look, man, I got one of those, too, okay, but those stories that we tell to keep us going? Man, sometimes they just blind us. They take us to dark places — the kind of places where I might beat the crap out of a good man just for the fun of it." Cole's finger tightened on the trigger and his face twisted in a grimace, clearly remembering the humiliating defeat he had suffered at Dean's hands, but the Winchester continued. "The people who love me, they pulled me back from that edge."

Alex looked over at Sam, desperately trying to catch his eye, but Sam's gaze was firmly glued onto his brother. His hands still gripped his gun, fingers pressed tightly against the trigger guard.

Cole didn't speak up, and so Dean continued on, his voice softening but his tone losing none of its painful urgency. "Cole, once you touch that darkness ... it never goes away. Now, the truth is ... I'm past saving." His green eyes darkened as they fell onto the gun. "I know how my story ends. It's at the edge of a blade or the barrel of a gun. So, the question is, is that gonna be today? That gonna be the gun?"

Alex followed his gaze onto the engraved silver slide — Dean's engraved silver slide — that rested against Cole's sweaty palm, his fingers trembling on where they rested. "You've got a family, Cole." Sam's voice broke into the gathering silence, and Cole turned his head. "I heard you on the phone that night. I'm guessing they need you to come back, and they need you to come back whole."

When the man turned back, his blue eyes shined with unshed tears. His jaw trembled slightly as he fought to keep they back, and his muscles tensed before he quickly spun the gun around. He held it out, grip pointed towards Dean, and the Winchester took it. "Thank you." Even Dean's voice was softer, the relief in his eyes evident.

Cole held his gaze, lips parted as if there was something else he needed to say, but after a second, he shook his head. "I ... I should go home," he decided, and Alex's grace pulled her weapon up into her hand as the man stooped to retrieve his own gun, apparently knocked away during a skirmish. The angel turned her gaze onto Dean, seeing the small abrasions on his cheek for the first time, and she let her grace creep forward as she reached up to brush the skin.

"What happened?" she asked, keeping her words soft so the retreating man couldn't hear. "How did he find you?"

"He didn't say." Dean hissed as Alex's fingers turned onto a cut across the bridge of his nose. "Man's been doing his research, though. He had holy water and everything."

"Hopefully he won't need to use that stuff ever again." Alex turned her gaze to watch the dark Jeep drive off before she let her hand fall away from the Winchester's face.

"What about Rowena?" Sam asked, and his hazel eyes swept the alleyway, searching for the witch that was no longer there.

"Crowley has her." Alex hid her weapon and shoved her hands into her pocket, holding back the scowl she knew should come after those words. "He'll, I don't know, kill her or something. Either that or she'll be as good as dead."

Dean grunted. "You sure? I thought we killed all his mooks."

"You didn't kill me." Alex let her gaze swing up onto his face. "I delivered her to the demons myself. Don't give me that look," she added scornfully. "You were going to kill her, and Crowley's pissed she killed his men. I think we all had the same end goal in mind."

"Dean." Sam cleared his throat, and Dean's lips pursed at his brother's grave tone. 'What you said just back then, a-about being past saving — where you really —"

Dean cut him off with a scoff and a shake of his head. "I was just telling the guy what he needed to hear," he promised, but even his words sounded hollow. The tightening of Sam's face displayed his displeasure, and Dean turned his head away, clearing his gun and tucking it into his jeans. "Come on," he said, waving Sam and Alex after him as he started down the alleyway. "It's time we go."