July 31th, 2015
Lebanon, Kansas

"I think I had another vision last night."

Alex looked up at Sam's words, her fingers hovering over her keyboard. The Winchester was sitting on the other side of the library table, a cup of coffee in his hands, and Alex slowly closed her laptop so she could look him in the eyes. "Another one?" Interest flickered across her face, quickly quelled, and she leaned back in her chair. "What was it about?"

"I don't ... I don't really remember." Sam scrubbed a hand through his messy hair, stifling a yawn, and Alex let her eyes drift down onto her phone. The morning had just begun; the sun was probably not even fully above the horizon yet. "I just remember that everything was black, and I had this ... this sense of purpose."

He hesitated, unsure how to fully explain himself, and Alex saved him the trouble with a nod. "What do you think they mean? That's the third one you've had, and it's barely been a month."

Sam shook his head. "I have no idea. You ... you haven't heard anything?"

"Nothing." Alex flipped her laptop back up, her eyes dropping down onto the screen. "Then again, I haven't slept since we let the Darkness out, and your visions seem to come in dreams, so ..." She adjusted her headphones that hung around her neck with a shrug. "It's hard to get dream-visions when I spend my nights out here."

She glanced up in time to see Sam's frown. "I haven't seen Cas in a couple days. Is he still in your room?"

"Yeah, he's basically hasn't moved in a week." Alex's wings twitched, and she shook them out with a shrug. "I can't ... I can't go in my room anymore. It's too weird. I feel like every time Cas looks at me, all he sees is my deal. It's uncomfortable."

"He's just trying to help."

The angel drummed her fingers on the wooden tabletop. "He's whining and sad. Like a soggy cornflake," she added after a second's thought. "I don't know how to even start to talk with him when he's like this." With a sigh, she dropped her eyes onto her computer. "When do you think Dean'll be up? I think I have a case."

"He's up right now." Dean's voice came from the doorway, and Alex slung an arm over the back of her chair as she turned to look at him. "What's this case you've found?"

"Well, first I thought I had something where half a town started attacking each other, but it turns out they'd just eaten, uh, rabid possum meat." Alex couldn't help but grin at the story, but her amusement wasn't shared by the older hunter.

"Okay, they do realize that possum is a giant rat, right?" he asked, scowling in disgust, and Alex snorted.

"Uh, actually," Sam corrected, "it's a marsupial."

"None of that's the point." Alex cut the two off with a shake of her head, and her eyes dropped down onto her screen. "Afterwards, I found a second — a better — case. Fall Rivers, Massachusetts. A couple was murdered by an axe at uh, a place called the Lizzie Borden Bed and Breakfast museum."

Dean opened his mouth, ready to reply, but Sam was quicker, his enthusiasm written across his face. "Wait, wait, wait. You — you mean the Lizzie Borden Bed and Breakfast?"

Alex nodded, and Dean shrugged his shoulders. "So? It's a B&B and a museum. That doesn't sound like a tourist trap at all."

"Wait, who's Lizzie Borden?"

Alex's question was ignored. "No, no, that — that inn was Lizzie's actual house." Sam's chair creaked as he leaned forward. "In 1892 she hacked up her mom and stepdad there. O-Or allegedly hacked them up," he quickly corrected, and Alex cocked an eyebrow, surprised by his rapt interest. "She was acquitted and spent the rest of her days in Fall Rivers hounded and persecuted by the townspeople."

"So you're thinking revenge killing," Dean finished, and when Sam shrugged, he continued, "But why now?" He dropped down into the chair next to Alex. "It was probably just some psycho fan who's seen too many slasher flicks."

"Maybe." Alex knew her voice didn't sound as confident as her words suggested, and Dean's eyes turned onto her. "Except everything was locked. The inn, the room. There were like a dozen other people in the house and the only thing they heard were the screams. It'd be pretty hard for someone to get in there."

"Well, maybe the murderer was actually competent," Dean retorted, and Alex rolled her eyes. Sam scoffed in disagreement, and Dean suddenly snapped his fingers. "Wait a minute. You —" he pointed to Sam, "you just want to go there because of your, uh, freaky fetish for serial killers."

"It's not a fetish," Sam retorted.

His protest was drowned out by Dean's exclamation of, "You've always wanted to see that house!"

"Dean, two people are dead. In Lizzie Borden's home." Sam set his coffee down and closed his laptop, the lid snapping shut. "We have no leads on Amara, and we haven't had any for the past week. I saw we go check this out. Besides," he added, rising to his feet, "the entire Borden clan is buried in Fall Rivers. Including Lizzie."

Dean's lips pursed, the indecision melting into reluctant agreement. "What do you want to do about Cas?"

Two pairs of eyes turned onto Alex, and the angel shrugged. "Last I checked, he just started The Wire," she said. "He's going to be busy for a long time still. I'll let him know where we're going, if you two want to go get packed. We can leave in ten." She waited for Dean to nod, rising to her feet when he did. "Alright. I'll be right back." She pushed her chair back under the table and, with a sigh, quietly made her way towards the hall.

Fall Rivers, Massachusetts

The Borden Bed and Breakfast was a small, antiquated house located in the center of a suburban road. The green siding glowed in the faint moonlight as the Impala pulled up along the sidewalk, and Alex threw open the door the moment the engine died. "This doesn't look like much." She scoffed as she made the comment, but it was lost beneath the sound of Dean's door slamming shut.

"Doesn't look much like a serial killer house," he joked, and Alex frowned at his reiteration when Sam chuckled. "Alright, let's get inside and talk to these freaks, huh?"

The inside was just as archaic as the exterior, and Alex wrinkled her nose as she stepped over the threshold and onto the worn hard-wood floor. The bright, patterned wallpaper filled every inch of the walls, and the crowded halls were lined with trinkets and memorabilia. Alex paused to read a framed newspaper on the wall, the title of which read 'Lizzie Borden Acquitted' in big, bold letters.

Sam brushed past her, the touch of his arm jolting her out of her thoughts, and Alex followed the brothers into the main office. A man stood there on the phone, his back half-turned to them. A glint of light caught Alex's eye, and she turned to examine a framed axe that hung on the far wall. "The hell?" She kept her voice low so the man on the phone couldn't hear her. "Is this the actual axe?"

"I think so." Sam's voice was lifted with excitement, and Alex couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Wow." His gaze dropped down onto a porcelain doll that sat on the table beneath it, and he scoffed. "So, I guess Lizzie Borden has her own doll."

"Yeah, went a little overboard with the crazy eyes," Dean said from the other side of the room, and Alex stepped away to observe the rest of the decorations.

"No, it's absolutely not a crime scene anymore," the man on the phone snapped, his voice rising in desperation, and Alex turned an ear in his direction, eyes on a magazine in an attempt to appear busy. "The room's been cleaned and you're not even on the same floor. There's no reason in cancel!"

Alex heard the other end of the line click as the customer hung up, and the clerk behind the desk let out a frustrated sigh. "People still freaked out about the murders, huh?" Dean guessed.

"Some people find it exciting." With another sigh, the man hung up the landline and turned his attention onto them. He ran a soothing hand down his red-checkered, old-fashioned garb, and Alex lifted an eyebrow at the sight of the red ascot. "Can I help you three?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "We read about the tragedy, and I'm a bit of a history buff. I just wanted to ask. Do you think the killings had anything to do with Lizzie Borden? I mean, her ghost, or whatever?"

"Probably just some crazed fan broke in, right?" Dean was quick to add, his skepticism clear.

The man looked between them, reaching up to adjust the grey toupee that sat upon his head before answering. "These are great questions, guys. Ones we usually answer for our paying guests."

Dean and Sam exchanged looks, and Sam cleared his throat as he reached for his wallet. He was stopped from speaking, however, by the sound of a woman's voice. "Mason!" An older woman stuck her head into the room, her face darkened in a scowl. "You forgot to cancel the bakery order!"

"Mom!" Mason's cheeks flushed, and his eyes flickered across the three hunters. "I'm with customers!"

The woman continued on as if he hadn't spoken. "Two hundred dollars worth of danish and no guests to eat it! This is coming out of your paycheck!"

"These guys could put away a few." Mason looked up at the two Winchesters, and Dean nodded in agreement. Alex turned her head to watch the woman walk away, and Mason's shoulders fell.

"Whew!" It was Dean who broke the impending silence. "Working with family can be tough."

Sam's head snapped to the side to stare at his brother, the corners of his lips taut at the insinuation, but neither Dean nor Mason seemed to notice. "Twenty years." Mason flipped open the guest book with a shake of his head. "You'll have your pick of rooms."

"We'll take the one the couple was in."

Mason's eyes widened at Sam's matter-of-fact tone. "T-The deceased couple?" he stuttered, and he looked over at Dean, unsure whether or not Sam was joking.

Dean nodded. "Uh huh," he agreed. "We came a long way to see some ghosts. We figured there's the most unrest there."

"Uh, we're not renting that room right now," Mason began. "Out of respect." His eyes widened even further as Dean dug out his wallet, flipping through the paper bills until he had counted out forty dollars. Mason watched as the money was placed on the desk in front of him, and his eyes dropped down onto the guest book. "But, you gotta get back on that horse sometime," he finally joked. "Luckily, we redid the room."

Sam flashed a half-hearted smile. "Great. And now that we're paying guests ... did you hear or see anything usual that night?"

"Not til we heard the screams." Mason pocketed Dean's money with a shake of his head. "I told mom to stay downstairs and I ran up there. Oh, God. Blood." He winced at the memory, and Alex's feathers twitched in understanding.

"Who was the couple?" she asked. "I mean, did you know them?"

"I've ... seen them around." Mason shrugged. "They're local kids. Nothing special about the girl, but the guy ... he was a descendant of the original Bordens."

"Huh." Alex grunted out the word, glancing up at Sam to see his reaction. The Winchester's face went momentarily blank with surprise, followed quickly by elation before he extinguished his emotions. "Well, thanks."

She stepped back as Sam accepted their room key, and she took one last look around the small, crowded museum room as she let the brothers take the lead towards the old wooden staircase. The steps creaked beneath each step, and the angel's wings flicked as they reached the top floor. Sam led the way down the hall, key in hand, and he eagerly unlocked their room and stepped inside.

Both Winchesters froze in the doorway, and Alex pushed her way between them, eager to see what had rendered both brothers speechless.

The room inside was small and pink. A single bed lay on the wall next to the door, the thin mattress covered by a pink, flowery comforter. The blankets matched the wallpaper, and Alex grimaced at the pattern as she traced it across the walls. "I don't know where to put my eyes." Dean was the first to speak, and Alex reluctantly stepped further into the room to let the brothers in. "I think I'm gonna throw up."

"We're surrounded by doilies." Sam grimaced as he moved past Alex, and the angel stifled a shiver. "They're everywhere."

"Great." Alex stuck out her tongue in a show of disgust. "Glad the guy downstairs mentioned this before he completely ripped us off." She crossed over to the window and peered out at the street beneath. "And only one bed? Looks like I'm not sleeping tonight, either."

Dean groaned at the sight of the single bed, and Sam circled around to stand closer to Alex. "Well, Dean's gonna have to get himself another room because this was Lizzie's original room, and I'm not giving it up."

Alex turned in time to see Dean scowl. "What are you, four?"

The buzzing of an EMF detector reached her ears, and Alex stepped closer to Sam to see the flickering red lights. "What the hell?" She reached out to take the meter from his hands, waving it about through the air. "That's a lot of EMF." Dean entered the bathroom, and she took a step in his direction.

"Yeah, look at that." Sam reached over to take it back from her, a grin upon his face as he carried it across the room, checking each corner. "That jives with what people online have been saying about the upstairs. Crying in empty rooms. Footsteps. Buzzing lights." He paused beside the closet and threw open the door, and Alex frowned as the incessant buzzing suddenly ceased. "Huh." He reached in and rapped on the drywall with a frown. "No secret panels or passageways in the closet."

"Well, the world's smallest bathroom in clean." Dean's voice came from the bathroom doorway, and Alex slipped past him to peer inside. The counter was porcelain, the walls decorated in the same pink Victorian decor. "What's that smell?"

"I think it's this." Alex heard Sam cross the room, the wooden floors creaking under his weight. "It's like lavender toilet water." Alex stepped out of the bathroom to see him standing beside the bed, a crystal bottle with a pink bulb in his hands.

"Bottled toilet water?" Dean scoffed, and Sam looked down at the contraption in his hands, seemingly small in his overly-sized fingers. He squeezed the bulb curiously, and a thin mist sprayed out of the nozzle. "Why do you keep spraying that?"

"I just ... wanted to see if the squeeze thing worked." Sam quickly dropped the bulb, his face flushing slightly. "I think it was supposed to be perfume or something."

"Alright, well, I think I'm going to go scope out the rest of the motel," Alex decided, and she shook out her wings as she looked over at the red velvet curtains. "Maybe there'll be something here that I can find. Anything to get me out of this pink-ocalypse."

Sam rolled his eyes, and Dean's hand thudded against's Alex's shoulder, passing through her wings to grab hold. "You mean you, a girl, don't like pink?" he joked, and Alex brushed his hand away.

"The only pink I like is the pink of my enemies' asses after I've kicked them." The angel's grace opened the door as Dean snickered, and she flicked her wings with a huff. "I — you know what I meant, Winchester. Don't read into it."

She stepped out into the hall, and after a second, Dean followed with a chuckle. "Tell you what. You take the upstairs, and I'll go look down." He pushed past her, and Alex stepped aside to give him access to the stairs. "See what you can feel."

"On it." Alex ran her fingers along the wooden railing as she followed the hallway past the stairs. Doors lined the walls, leading into bedrooms, and the angel's grace undid the locks so she could peer inside each one. Nothing unusual.

She let her grace push out ahead of her, feeling through the air, but there was only old wallpaper and musty carpet. There was no sign of unrest, no cold spots. Not a single thing was out of place. She could hear movement at the room at the end of the hall; the sign on the door marked it as 'Private.' She could feel a soul inside, and Alex dismissively flicked a wing. That was probably where the proprietors lived.

A click from the other end of the hall had her turning in time to see Sam slipping through an unlocked door. With a frown, she followed, her footsteps silent as she crossed the hallway. The open door revealed a staircase, ascending upwards into darkness, and Alex's grace rose to her eyes so she could see the attic above. "Ooh. Spooky."

Her words had Sam startling, and she narrowed her eyes as the beam of his flashlight caught her in the face. "Oh." The flashlight fell away, and Alex hid her amusement by shaking out her wings. "It's you."

"Yeah it's me." Two steps carried her to Sam's side, and she peered past him towards the far corner. "Do you hear that humming?"

A low, electrical purr was emanating from the piles of junk behind them, and Sam turned with a frown. His flashlight swept across the covered mess, and Alex let him take the lead towards the clutter. The hum grew stronger the closer they got, and a second, high-pitched whirl of Sam's EMF meter joined in as the hunter turned it on. Alex stretched her grace out, confused by the sound. She could feel the waves of EMF pulsing this close to the source, and she slipped under Sam's arm to pull the sheet off of its pile.

She felt Sam tense, his muscles tightening at the sudden movement, but they quickly relaxed. "What the hell?" Sam knelt down beside the uncovered contraption, and Alex did the same. A small metallic box was pressed into the corner, humming as it ran, and with a flick of her grace, Alex severed it from its power source.

The humming died, and with it Sam's EMF, the meter sliding back down to zero. "Huh. A homemade EMF machine." She looked over at Sam with a toothy grin. "Creepy." Her humor wasn't returned, and Alex's wings drooped. "Sorry your dream house wasn't as haunted as you imagined."

Sam rolled his eyes with a huff. "Yeah, yeah. Shut up." He pushed himself to his feet, tucking the EMF meter back into his jacket pocket as he did so, and Alex rolled the sheet back out over the device before she stood as well. "Come on. Maybe Dean found something."

He lead the way back out of the attic, and Alex followed, sliding into their rented room ahead of Sam. Now that she knew what she was looking for, she let her grace flow out, feeling along the drywall. Three steps carried her to the far end of the room, and she reached up to take a framed portrait of Lizzie off of the wall. "In here." Behind the photo was a small space, carved into the wall, and Alex reached in to tap at a speaker. "This would explain the weird noises people are hearing. Only question is where's the source?"

"Right here." A moan filled the room, and Alex turned to see Dean standing in the doorway, a tape recorder in his hands. "So you figured out the place was rigged, too, huh?"

"Yeah." Sam frowned, not bothering to hide his disappointment. "No Lizzie in the attic, but I did find a homemade EMF generator. We turned the beast off, and what do you know? No more signal."

"Shocker. The, uh, flickering lights? Wired to timers in the wall." Sam's frown deepened, and Dean paused the tape recorder, tossing it dismissively onto the bed. "And that thing? There's more than just one sound. Runnings footstep. Uh, creepy whispers you can't make out. One flushing toilet — not sure what that one's about." He shook his head. "Creepiest thing all night was the asshat outside taking pictures of the damn joint. He ran away before I could find him," he quickly added when Sam's eyebrows rose. "This whole place is a hoax, man. It's a tourist trap, just like I said."

"Yeah, but we still don't know how that couple got axed," Sam reminded. "I mean, how did the killer get in and out?"

Dean grunted, and Alex rehung the picture on the wall. "And well ... who's to say it's not something supernatural," she added, reluctant to join either side. "She's pretty infamous in this area. Could be a tulpa. Or it could actually be a ghost. Like the guy downstairs said, they redid this room. EMF could be just faded by now. Just because these guys capitalized on a legend doesn't mean it's not real."

"Maybe." It was Dean's turn to frown. "I don't know. Why don't we Sherlock that over a beer or something and a lobster roll?" He pulled open the door and stepped out into the hallway, and Alex hurried after him, her eyes lighting up at the idea of food. Sam followed, closing the door behind him, and Dean glanced down the hallway with a look of disgust. "I gotta get out of this doily coffin."

The lobster rolls, according to Dean, were subpar, but by the time the bill was paid, all that remained were crumbs. Alex tucked her phone into her pocket as she climbed into the Impala, and the engine turned over as she closed the door. Cas? She lifted the prayer up, feeling along his grace as she did so, but all she saw was a darkened room and a flickering screen. You okay? I haven't heard from you all day.

I'm fine. The prayer sounded anything but, and Alex stifled a sigh. I think I'm starting to get the hang of these fictional dramas. They're intriguing.

Um, well, make sure you get up and take in some sunshine, okay? It's not good to stay inside in the dark like that.

"I'm telling you. Die Hard is a Christmas movie." The car lurched forward as Dean turned it down the road, and the headlights illuminated the cracked road ahead. "There's literally a Christmas tree in the film."

"Dude, just cause it's set during Christmas doesn't make it a 'Christmas movie.' " Air quotes followed Sam's words, and Dean rolled his eyes. "It — it needs to be happy, a-and family friendly —"

"Hey, we watched Die Hard with dad every year," Dean retorted, and Sam threw up his hands in exasperation.

"Right, because Dad's sense of family friendly was spot on." Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Sam was faster. "Dude, he gave me a handgun for my tenth birthday."

With a sigh, Alex cut off her prayer and straightened up in her seat. "Are we really still fighting about this?" She kicked at the seat in front of her, and Dean glared through the rearview mirror. "We've been talking about this for like, over ten minutes already."

"This is important. I ..." Dean trailed off as the Impala rounded the corner, and Alex leaned forward, the argument forgotten. Police cars lined the street in front of the Borden Bed and Breakfast, their red and blue lights flashing in the night. "What the hell?" Dean pulled the Impala up alongside the curb, and Alex jumped out of the car, waiting for Sam and Dean to join her. She heard the click of the glovebox before the car doors opened, and she accepted a leather-bound ID from Sam's hands.

A flash of their badges let them into the home, and Alex's grace pressed out to find the source of the commotion. "Another death." She pushed past the brothers to take the lead, winding down the hall and ascending the stairs. She paused, looking up and down the halls, and her eyes landed on the police crowded in the doorway of the room marked 'Private.'

Four paces took her to the door, and she slid past the officers as she bee-lined for the sheet-covered body that lay by the bed, ignoring their voiced surprise. "FBI," she heard Sam explain, and she drew back the sheet as Dean crouched beside her.

The corpse's pale skin was barely visible beneath the blood, and Alex took a moment to take in the scene before her before she pointed to the deep gashes in the woman's neck and back. "Axe wounds." Alex looked over at Dean with a small frown. "Just like how the couple died."

"Detective Madsen?" Sam crossed the room to speak with a middle aged man, and Alex's eyes drifted onto the figure in the chair beside him. The blanket clutched tightly around his shoulders hid any distinguishing bodily features, but she recognized his face immediately; he was Mason, the man who checked them into their room earlier that evening. "I'm Agent Collins."

The detective rose to greet Sam, but Mason's eyes went wide with shock. "You weren't FBI earlier!" he blurted out, and Alex shifted on the floor as Dean pushed himself to his feet.

Sam tucked his badge into his jacket, unperturbed, and Alex returned her attention to the corpse in front of her. "Well," she heard him begin, "um, my partners and I were undercover investigating the original murders."

Alex's grace ran across the body, expanding to the rest of the room when it found nothing. "Where the hell were you when my mother was being —" Mason cut off with a choked sob, and Alex reluctantly replaced the sheet and rose to her feet.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Kemper." Sam's apology sounded sincere, and Alex's eyes flickered over to Dean. He was standing with his back to the cops, his EMF meter in hand, and Alex frowned to see that the device was silent. No EMF. No ghost.

With a scowl and a shake of his head, Dean pocketed the meter and turned to face Detective Madsen. "We're gonna catch the son of a bitch who is doing this," the man was promising Sam. "Mason had just finished locking up. No one was inside but him and Mrs. Kemper. Staff went home an hour ago."

"Hi, um, I'm Agent Gabriel." Dean stepped forward, his badge in hand. "Listen, I saw a guy hanging around earlier snapping some photos, and he ran away when I tried to make contact."

Detective Madsen's face tightened. "Let me guess. Short. Chunky. Baby-faced?"

"Yeah, that's him."

"Huh." The man let out a sigh, shaking his head in almost a disappointed manner. "Yeah, that's Len. Total teddy bear. I went to high school with him. He's obsessed with ghosts but harmless."

"Ghosts?" Sam repeated the word, his interest piqued, and he looked over at his brother, who only offered up a half-hearted shrug. "Hm. Is that a real issue around here?"

"According to the Chamber of Commerce, absolutely." The detective chuckled at his own joke, but when the hunters didn't share in his humor, he sighed again. "I'll send an officer to Len, get a statement from him."

He turned to go, but Sam stopped him. "Uh, you know what? You guys got your hands full. We'll, uh, we'll drop by." He waited until Madsen nodded before he stepped back with a hurried, "Thanks."

Alex followed the brothers out of the bedroom, shaking out her wings as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "Are we thinking Len saw something, or that he's the crazy axe murderer?" she asked as they stepped out of the front door, and she quickly lowered her voice as an officer hurried past.

"It can't be a ghost." Dean answered her question before Sam could, and he reached for his keys as he shook his head. "That place was clean. No EMF. Which means whatever we're dealing with —"

"Isn't a ghost," Sam finished, and Dean nodded. "Great." Sam circled around to the passenger side, and Alex followed, casting one last look back towards the inn. "Well, if Len's been lurking there as much as that detective suggested, maybe he still saw something."

Dean merely grunted, and the conversation lulled as the engine roared into life. Alex turned her attention down onto her phone as the Impala lurched on down the road, appeasing herself by scanning an old article on the Borden B&B to pass the time. "Well." It was Dean who eventually broke the silence, and Alex lifted her eyes from her phone. "So far we've got squat that says ghost. Or anything remotely us."

"So maybe it's not our usual kind of gig?" Sam reluctantly asked. "Maybe we're dealing with a serial killer?"

Dean shrugged, and Alex leaned forward in her seat. "You'd love that, wouldn't you?" she teased. Sam's frown was evident even in the darkness, and she quickly added, "I'd be down for some old-fashioned serial killer hunting, too. Fun to find, easy to kill."

She stifled a grin as Sam and Dean exchanged looks in the front seat. "You know how bad that sounds, right?" Sam began, and Dean added, "They're still people."

They're just monsters without the fangs." Alex shrugged, not offset by their words. "Hell, they're probably worse. At least monsters kill to eat."

"Well, like I said, people are crazy."

The ringing of Sam's phone had Dean falling quiet with a shake of his head, and Alex returned to her seat, back pressed up against the warm leather as Sam answered. "Agent Collins." He listened, and Alex refrained from eavesdropping as his frown deepened further. "Yeah. Thanks for letting me know." He hung up with a grimace. "Another axe vic," he reported, "this one miles from the B&B."

"Lizzie left home."

"Apparently." Sam tucked his phone back into his jacket with a shake of his head. "Alright. I'll take the crime scene. You and Alex go talk to Len."

"Alright. We'll get you a car." Dean turned the Impala off of the main road, rolling towards a half-filled parking lot that sat in front of a bar, and Alex reached for the door handle as the car came to a stop.

"I'll call you if I get something." Sam held open his door so Alex could take his spot in the front, and she watched him disappear into the darkness towards the empty cars.

The Impala rolled away, the headlights turning back towards the main road, and Alex settled down in her new seat. "So, how far away are we from Len's place?" she asked.

"Not far. Couple minutes tops." Dean shrugged, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel as he guided the car across the intersection. "You, uh, you talked with Cas recently?"

Alex felt his gaze upon her, and she shrugged. "He's good, I think. I checked in with him after dinner, and he was still watching Netflix. I told him to get out side for a bit. Staying cooped up like that ... it's not good for you, you know?"

"Just give him time." Dean accelerated through a yellow light, and Alex couldn't help but huff at his words. "We all have those days."

"It's been weeks. And he picked one hell of a time to take a mental health month." Alex carefully wove a shield around her mind, keeping Castiel out. She could still feel him, lying unmoving in her bed, and she sighed. "The Darkness is out there, Metatron is out there, and all he cares about is Crowley a-and Netflix! There's bigger things out there than my deal!"

No answer came, and Alex looked up to see the Impala stopped in front of a brick rambler. "We can talk about that one later." By the tone of Dean's voice, he didn't seem like he intended to uphold his promise, and Alex rolled her eyes as she followed him out of the car; trying to wring an emotional response out of Dean was like trying to give a wendigo a bath.

Dean knocked on the front door, and Alex turned her eyes out across the messy, unkempt lawn. Overgrown weeds crowded out the grass, winding among the discarded junk, and the angel shook her head with a disgusted click of her tongue. Her eyes turned back to the house when the door swung open, her fingers closing around ID in her pocket. "Len Fletcher? Agents Gabriel and Singer." Dean introduced them with a wave of his hand, and Alex flashed her badge in the direction of the short, wide-eyed man. "You were at the Lizzie Borden B&B earlier this night, weren't you?"

"I — I ..." Len stuttered, his eyes widening even further as he looked between the two of them before he bluntly lied, "No."

"Can we come in?" Dean hardly waited for an answer before he stepped towards the threshold, and Len stammered out his consent as he jumped aside to let them in. Alex flashed him a smile as she followed Dean inside, and the warm informality relieved some of the tension in Len's face. "Uh, can I get you agents something to drink?" he offered as he closed the door behind him, but both Alex and Dean shook their heads.

The living room, much like the house, was small, its petite size accentuated by the clutter. Cupboards and bookshelves were filled with memorabilia and paraphernalia centered around the paranormal, and Alex frowned as she recognized two faces on a book cover; the title confirmed her suspicions. Ghostfacers: Tales from the Crypt and Beyond. "Aw man, they wrote a book?"

Her disgusted mutter was overshadowed by Dean's words, and she looked up to see him standing in front of a photo of Lizzie Borden. "Well, I didn't expect to see her here."

"Well, you gotta live your bliss." Len's smile was less than convincing, and Alex cocked an eyebrow as she crossed the room to stand next to Dean.

"Heh." Dean turned to face Len, and Alex took the moment to study the picture of Lizzie. The Borden collection expanded beyond the cabinet, and she hurriedly catalogued the carefully organized mess; it was just as impressive a collection as the one at the Borden house. From the slight widening of Dean's eyes, he had noticed the size of it too. "Boy, you are a Lizzie Borden ... I don't think 'fan' covers it."

"Superfan," Len stated, and a hint to pride crept into his tone. "And curator."

"Hm. And is that what you were doing earlier at the B&B? Uh, curating?" Dean shoved his hands into his pockets as Len's eyes widened, and the man started stuttering out the beginning of an excuse before Dean cut him off. "Len," he reminded firmly, "it's best to go with the truth here."

Len's shoulders fell, and Alex noted a faint blush that spread across his cheeks. "I was trying to get a picture of Lizzie's ghost," he finally admitted.

"And is that what I saw you with?" Dean pointed to the corner of the room, where an antique camera and its stand leaned up against an oak bookshelf.

"Yeah." Len hurried over to it and picked it up, carrying it two steps in their direction so both hunters could see the device more clearly. "It's, uh ... it's what the victorians used for spirit photography," he explained.

Alex looked the camera up and down. "Huh. You ever catch any, you know, any ghosts on it?"

"Well," Len began slowly, and Alex hid a smile at his hesitation, "I've seen Lizzie at her house. She's this wispy, grey shadow. But she never shows up on film." He looked down at the old camera with a thin frown and added in a softer voice, "Maybe I should go high-def."

Dean grunted in faux-understanding, and Alex's wings flicked, amused at the idea. She glanced over at Dean as she asked, "So why don't you just go in the house, then? I'm sure you'd have a better chance of seeing Lizzie."

"I'm not exactly allowed at the inn anymore," Len admitted, and he turned to place the old camera back to hide the embarrassment reddening his cheeks. "There's a minor restraining order. And there's a gag order not to talk about the restraining order. But, you're federal agents."

The faint lifting of Dean's chin conveyed his surprise. "Buried the lead there a little, Len. Why don't you tell me about the restraining order?"

Len frowned, reluctantly turning back around to face Dean and Alex, and the angel cocked her head, awaiting his explanation. "It was Lizzie's 155th birthday, and I couldn't get Lizzie's room so I stayed in the basement ... for a couple days." The embarrassment in his cheeks returned. "Weeks. I — I wasn't bothering anyone."

"So it's safe to say you know the inn pretty well," Dean concluded, and Len quickly nodded his head. "Huh. Let me ask you, did anything about tonight strike you as weird?"

"Just you banging on the window." The computer on the other side of the room suddenly dinged, and Len's head rolled back in a mixture of exasperation and dismay. "Oh God, no. I'm supposed to lead a live chat about the axe murders in Fall Rivers. I'm not Lizzie CNN!"

"Yeah, I don't know why anyone would think that."

The flat sarcasm in Dean's tone was lost on Len as he turned toward his desk, shoulders slumping forward. "I'll close it down," he promised. "Be right back." Alex watched him go with a thin frown, puzzled by his sudden outburst. She let her grace rise up, feeling out into the house around them, searching for anything that may point them in the right direction.

She felt Dean wander off from her side, followed by the rustling of paper, and she drew her grace back at his sharp inhalation. "Dean?" She turned, lips pursed into a worried frown, and her feathers ruffled to see Dean holding up a sheet of paper, the Mark of Cain sketched clearly in the corner. "What the hell?" Her head snapped over to Len, still at his computer, and she squared her jaw to keep her voice level. "Len? Where did you see this?"

Len's eyes went wide as Dean held the paper up to him, and the color drained from his cheeks. "Uh, a-a site about ghosts? The paranormal?"

Alex scoffed, and Dean crossed the room to thrust the drawing into the man's face. "Len, you might be the worst liar I've ever met," he snapped. "Tell me where you've seen this symbol. I'd take you down to the station and ask you there," he warned when Len hesitated, "but then we'd have to involve the local police, your restraining order ..."

"Okay." Len squeezed his eyes shut, and Dean took a step back to give him space to answer. "Okay, uh ... I was outside Lizzie's house a couple nights ago trying to get a picture of her." He shivered, opening his eyes, and for the first time, Alex noticed how cold and dull they were. "There was this girl there. I guess she wanted to see where Lizzie got axed, too. We started talking and she — she freaked me out. The way she said that Lizzie had 'serial killer eyes.' I ditched her pretty quick after that."

"And you didn't tell the police," Dean added.

"A: restraining order?" Len reminded. "B: what am I supposed to say? I was hanging out talking murder with a little twelve-year-old girl in the middle of the night?" Curiosity got the best of Alex, and she stepped forward, two fingers pressing up against Len's forehead as her grace rushed in. "Hey! What the hell?"

"Alex?" Dean's eyes narrowed as he watched, and Alex stepped back, shaking out her wings. "Everything okay?"

He has no soul. The words sat bitter on her tongue, but Alex held them in. "I'll tell you later," she promised, voice terse as she tried to keep the darkness out. "Where does that symbol come in, Len?"

"S-She had it on her shoulder." Len looked between her and Alex, unsure of what had transpired. "I don't know if it was a scar or a birthmark."

"What did she look like?" Dean demanded, and Alex looked up to see that his shoulders were squared, his head lifted stiffly.

"Uh, a girl." A faint hint of panic began creeping into Len's voice at Dean's ferocious urgency. "Amara. That's what she said her name was." He watched as Dean's eyes flew open in surprise, and he asked, "You know her?"

"Her name was Amara? And she had that mark?" Alex pointed to the paper still in Dean's hands, slightly crumpled from the hunter's fingers, and Len nodded. "And you said that she was twelve?"

Len shrugged. "Maybe a little younger or older," he guessed, and when Alex and Dean exchanged confused frowns, he added, "Who is she?"

"She's a runaway," Dean lied, and Alex forced her wings to lay flat against her back. Amara, the soul-sucking Darkness, was in town. And she wasn't a baby anymore. "Do you know where Amara is now? Is she still in town?"

"I don't know. Why — why are you looking for her?"

Dean's lips pursed together. "I'm not at liberty to discuss that," he stated, and Alex gave a firm nod of agreement.

To her surprise, Len's eyes stretched wide. "You have to tell me," he pleaded. "Please. I need to find her!"

"Why?" Alex tipped her head, confused by the rush of emotion. Len hesitated, and the angel's wings curled forward. "Something happened to you," she guessed, and her conjecture was confirmed by the fear that flickered through Len's eyes. "What happened?"

"You won't believe me." Len's voice was quiet, and it took him a second before he reluctantly continued his tale. "I — I turned to go, but she ... she grabbed me. On my face. I don't know what that girl did to me, but I haven't been right since. I can't eat. Or sleep. I don't dream. And all the things I used to love — my Lizzie blog, the ghost conventions — they leave me cold." He looked around at his things with a small shake of his head. "I put this whole collection on Ebay last night. Now it belongs to some machinist in Ohio."

"Well, what about the superfan curator living the bliss?" Dean asked, but Len only shrugged.

"Just playing the part of what I used to be," he admitted. "You know. Fake it til you make it. O-Or feel it."

"Okay, well, what about tonight?" Alex looked over at Dean, her grey eyes flickering across the hunter's face before they turned back onto Len. "What were you doing at the inn? Were you just 'faking it'?"

"No." Len's eyes went wide, and a touch of desperation crept into his voice. "I was looking for Amara. I want her to put me back. I've always been odd a-and quirky. But I had a life. Friends. And now ... I remember how to talk to people, what to say. But I feel like I'm acting. Going through the motions. I'm like a robot puppet man."

His admission was followed by silence, and Dean finally broke it by clearing his throat. "Can I, can I talk with you for a minute?" he asked, turning to look down at Alex, and the angel nodded, lips pressed tightly together as she followed Dean towards the door. "We'll be right back," she heard him tell Len, and her grace flicked through the air as she stepped out into the night.

"He doesn't have a soul." She spoke the words as soon as the door closed behind Dean, and she let her wings flare out into the black air. "Amara — Amara must have sucked it out, that bitch." The insult was muttered under her breath, and she watched as Dean pulled out his phone. "What are you doing?"

"I'm calling Sam." Dean started towards the car, his phone pressed up against his ear as he paced, and Alex hung out against the doorstep, one eye turned towards the window to see if Len was watching. "Alex." Dean pointed across the yard to the neighbors house, the yellow lights in the windows a stark contrast to the night. "Go see if they've seen anything weird, okay? Maybe Len's our Lizzie Borden."

"Sure." Alex turned away with a scowl, not pleased at being demoted to door duty, and her feet carried her across the grass as she walked up to the neighbor's front door. She could see a man through the window, sitting in his chair, and she stretched her grace to feel the house as she rapped firmly on the doorframe. "Agent Singer." She held up her badge the moment the door swung open, ignoring the elderly man's shock. "I just have a quick question about your neighbor Len Fletcher."

She tucked her badge back into her jacket as the man peered past her towards Len's house. "Is he in trouble again?"

"Uh ... maybe." Alex drew her grace back inside her body as she forced herself to stand straight. "Have you been sitting there all night?" She motioned towards the window, where the empty chair stood facing the tv, and the man before her nodded. "So you've had a clear view of Len's house."

"Um, that'd be right." The man's blue eyes squinted as he looked behind him into his house. "I can see his driveway pretty good from in there." He paused, and when Alex didn't speak, he took her silence as prompting. "Let's see. He was gone when I came back from my grandson's birthday — he just turned nine, you see — and Len was, um, gone, but I think he came back around ... oh, I want to say eight-ish?"

"Eight-ish," Alex repeated. "And you haven't seen him leave since then?"

"No, his car's been in the driveway all night."

Alex looked back towards Dean, who still pacing alongside the Impala. "Alright, well, thank you very much. Have a good night." She nodded her head in a quick acknowledgement of thanks as she turned away, and she hurried back across the yard as the door closed behind her. Dean's eyes turned onto her as she approached, and she shook her head; no, Len couldn't be the killer.

"It's not him," Dean relayed across the phone. "Alex talked to the neighbors and I guess he's got an alibi." He waited for Alex's nod of confirmation, and the angel gave it as she turned her eyes back onto Len's house. She missed Sam's response, but her attention was drawn back to the conversation as Dean snapped his fingers. "Right. The new rules," he agreed, his voice almost mocking, and Alex cocked an eyebrow, unsure of what he meant. "Well, why hasn't he offed anybody? I mean, it took Jenna all of walking downstairs to slit her grandmother's throat."

Movement came from inside the house, and Alex looked over to see Len peering through the living room window, his hands cupped up against the glass as he looked out. Their eyes locked, grey against a flat blue, and Alex flashed him a small thumbs up in some attempt at a comforting gesture. "There is no sensitive way to tell somebody their soul's been sucked out by a prehistoric tween!" she heard Sam yell from across the line, and she snorted as she made her way up the driveway.

The brothers' conversation faded as she stepped through the front door, and she was immediately confronted by Len. "Who is he talking to?"

"A friend." Alex brushed off the question with a flick of her wings. "He's been helping us with this case. And with Amara." She closed the door behind her and asked, "Are you sure there's nothing else you can tell us about her? What did she look like? What as she wearing?"

"Uh, she just looked like a normal kid. Thin, kinda tall. Dark hair and really — I mean really — scary eyes. She was wearing a black dress I think?" Len's brow furrowed as he thought. "That's all I remember, a-apart from the birthmark or — or tattoo. It was dark."

The door swung open, and Alex sidestepped to let Dean through. "Sam's going to meet us in the morning," he announced. "He thinks he might know who the killer is." He barely spared Len a glance as he turned to Alex. "Wife of the newest vic was acting weird. You know, weird." The slight shifting of his eyes in Len's direction made his meaning clear. Soulless.

"What about Amara?" Len asked, and Dean finally turned to face him. "Do you — do you know where she is?"

"No. Not yet. Here's what's going to happen." Dean's finger swung over to Alex, and the angel blinked in surprise. "Agent Singer's going to spend the night, just to keep an eye on you. Trust me," he added when Len looked ready to protest. "It's in your best interest. I'll be back in the morning."

"Dean —"

"I'll be back in the morning." Dean clapped her on the shoulder, and Alex scowled as he pulled open the door.

"Wait." Alex caught him on the front step, and the Winchester paused with a small frown. "One question." She closed the door behind her to keep Len from overhearing, and she dropped her voice. "When you were on the phone with Sam, you said something about some, uh, 'new rules'? What were you talking about?"

"Oh, Sam didn't tell you?" Dean gave a dramatic roll of his eyes, and Alex tipped her head to one side. "He's decided that we don't do enough as it is. Now, it's don't just kill the bad guy, but save anyone and everyone in the process. Or in this case, don't kill the soulless, but fix 'em."

Alex's eyes narrowed. "That ... doesn't seem practical. I'm pretty sure soulless people are just time bombs at this point." Dean's grunt showed his agreement, and the angel's wings twitched. "I guess that explains why he was pissed when I killed all those necherezers."

"Yeah, don't read too far into it, but you definitely tend to kill first, ask later." Dean's hand thudded amiably against her shoulder to soften his words, and Alex frowned. "Anyways, I'm sure this will all blow over eventually. I'll swing by in the morning."

"Yeah. Thanks for that, Dean." Alex watched him go with a shake of her head, waiting until the Impala's headlights flickered on before she returned to the house. Len was still there, unmoved from where she had left him, and Alex closed the door behind her. "Uh, yeah, so like he said ... I guess I'll be spending the night just to, uh, make sure Amara doesn't come by."

Confusion marred Len's face, and Alex's feathers ruffled at the awkward silence that followed her lie. "I ... I can make you a bed," Len started, but Alex cut him off with a thin frown. "I — I don't exactly sleep anymore."

"Don't worry about it. I don't sleep either." The roar of the Impala came from outside, and Alex crossed over to the window to watch it drive away. "Great. I think I'm going to circle the block, see if there's anything I can find. Stay here." With a flick of her wings, she returned the door. "Don't go anywhere, okay?" Without waiting for an answer, she stepped outside, letting her wings flare out. Great. Babysitting duty again. With a sigh, she set off down the road.

The Impala sat in the driveway of a white suburban home, and Alex shifted uncomfortably in the backseat, her wings drawn in tight as she pressed up against the side of the car. It was the next morning and, true to Dean's words, he and Sam had come by to pick her on their way to visit the wife of the latest murder victim. Despite Alex's protests, both brothers had decided that the best place for Len was with them, and now, the soulless man sat beside her, twiddling his thumbs as he looked down in his lap. Dean sat in the front seat, leaning back as he waited for Sam, who stood on the front step of the home, his phone pressed up against his ear. "What's taking him so long?"

Alex ignored Dean's muttered question, snaking her grace forward to try and overhear Sam's conversation. "— part of a Federal murder investigation," he was saying, his brow furrowed. "You do not want to hold anything back from us."

She drew her grace back in with a roll of her eyes, resting her head up against the window. The sunlight was warm, despite the surprising chill to the air for mid July, and the angel pursed her lips in a frown. Amara, the baby, was now a preteen. The Darkness was growing up faster than they had ever expected.

The car door opened, and Alex lifted her head to watch Sam slide in beside his brother. "Head north," he directed. "The wife — Dawn — she has a friend named Nate Greenwald. A, uh, a special friend. 136 Hemingway Street."

"On it." Dean pulled the car out into the street, and Alex shifted displeasingly as Len's eyes moved across the three hunters. "You got directions?"

"Getting them now." Sam's eyes didn't lift from his phone, and Alex leaned forward over his shoulder to watch him, her broken black feathers twitching as Len did the same. "So you think Dawn is the killer?" Sam asked. "Was she — was she at the inn?"

"Does she know Amara?"

Sam's head jerked back as he turned to face Len, surprised to find the man so close. "Uh, Len, can you — can you move back a bit?" He shifted uncomfortably until the man moved away. "Just hang tight until we talk to Dawn, okay? Thanks."

"So what happened last night?" Alex asked, reluctantly leaning back to press her wings up against the leather seats. "Dean never told me what you found."

"Yeah. Uh, Bill Pensky was murdered with an axe last night in the driveway. His son's babysitter is the one who found the body." Sam paused as Dean took the corner a little too quickly, and Alex's fingernails dug into the leather seat to keep from sliding into soulless Len. "The son — his name's Jeordi, he's pretty quiet but a nice kid — he was in the house the whole time. I don't think he saw anything."

"Thanks God for that," Dean put in as he rolled through a stop sign, and Alex echoed him quietly.

"Definitely. Uh, Mrs. Pensky got there pretty quickly after I arrived, but when I tried to talk to her, she just ... didn't want to talk. She demanded that I leave."

"Yeah, that's pretty sketchy," Alex agreed. "Did she have some sort of an alibi?" Her eyes slid past Sam to turn onto the road, and then down onto his phone to check how close they were.

"She didn't even let me ask her a question," Sam admitted. "Detective Madsen said it was probably just shock, but ..." He shook his head. "Shock's one thing, but she didn't even seem to care that her husband had been butchered."

"I know how that is." Len's eyes turned out the window as he spoke. "Kitten videos, chicken and waffles, eucalyptus scent. I just don't care for it anymore." He sighed as the Impala turned down another suburban road. "Used to swoon for dark, curly hair. Now, not so much." He turned to look over at Dean, a hint of concern upon his face. "Do you think I had a stroke? Or maybe it's a brain tumor. What's really freaky is all the stuff that used to make my skin crawl now seems ... eh." He shrugged again as the car pulled up into a driveway. "I couldn't shake a guy's hand before. God, that wetness. Now I could lick the sweat off of a stranger's —"

"Okay!" Dean jumped in, cutting the man off, and Alex's wings flittered in disgust.

"Yeah." Len went on as if Dean had barely spoken. "Any body part. I'm serious. I feel weird, man."

Sam paused at the words, and even Alex hesitated, her fingers halted in their reach for the door handle. "Weird?" she repeated, and Len nodded. "Weird, how?"

Len took a second, his eyes narrowing as he thought about his answer. "Like something's hatching inside of me," he finally said. "Something dark. With wings." Sam and Dean exchanged looks from the front seat, a quick, knowing conversation passing between them; Len noticed, and his concerned frown deepened. "What?"

"Nothing," Dean promised, and he threw open the car door to get out. Sam did the same, and Alex hesitated, waiting for the taller Winchester to get out of the way before she followed.

"But you looked at Sam like you guys know what's wrong with me!" Len insisted, leaning out the window to try and catch Dean's attention. He opened his mouth to say more, but he was cut off when Dean grabbed his arm. Handcuffs clicked as they snapped shut around Len's wrist, and Len's eyes stretched wide as the second cuff shut around the outside door handle. "Hey!"

"You don't have a soul." Dean leaned down against the window, firmly meeting Len's gaze, and Alex rolled her eyes at his bluntness. "Alright? Amara sucked it out."

"What?!"

"Dean!" Sam leaned through Alex's window, his lips pressed tight in a thin frown. "You wanna be a little more blunt?"

"How — how is that even possible?" Len added, his voice higher than usual, and Alex pushed open the door so she could slip out beside Sam, muttering a half-hearted apology as the Winchester was forced back into the bushes lining the driveway.

"Look. This isn't just so you don't get in trouble," Dean began, motioning to the handcuffs. "Alright, we'll be right back and then we'll figure out what to do with you."

He drummed on the Impala's roof to emphasize his words as he turned to go, and Len twisted to look back at Sam and Alex. "How do I get it back?" he asked. "M-My soul."

Sam looked down at Alex, his thin frown deepening, and he reluctantly answered, "Generally ... you don't."

"Look on the bright side," Alex added when Len fell back in his seat, his eyes staring blankly ahead. "At least when you die, that's it. Just nothingness. I get to go to hell." She ended with a forced smile, trying to add humor to the situation, but it fell flat.

"It feels good to finally know," was all Len said, giving a half-hearted shrug, and Alex sighed as the man fell silent once again.

She followed Sam around the Impala and after Dean, who was standing on the front step, eyes narrowed as he peered through the darkened window. "Well, something happened in there," he announced, and Alex followed his gaze to see the overturned furniture that decorated the interior.

"The blue car is the mom's," Sam added, pointing to the dark blue SUV that sat further up the driveway. "I saw it last night." He and Dean stepped aside so Alex could slide past, and the angel brushed her fingers against the lock, her grace stretching out to grant them entrance to the home.

The door swung open, and Alex reached back to draw her weapon as she let Dean take the lead, his gun raised as he entered the dark house. Alex followed, letting her grace stretch out to feel through the empty halls. "Alright, anyone here?" Dean fell back to her side, his voice a low murmur, and Alex momentarily closed her eyes as she searched the rooms for souls.

"One person upstairs," she announced. "Alive." She let her grace drift down into the basement, adding, "One in the basement, I think." She pushed harder, trying to confirm its presence as she added, "Soulless. They're slippery to track."

"Okay." Dean waved his gun towards the stairs as he nodded towards Sam and Alex. "You guys go upstairs. See if they're okay," he added when Alex frowned. "If they're fine, come meet me downstairs."

He didn't wait for a reply before he moved off further into the house, leaving Alex and Sam standing by the stairs. With a shrug, Sam started up, and Alex followed with a scowl, transferring her weapon to her other hand so she could grasp the handrail as she ascended. "At the end of the hall," she directed, and she tilted her head back slightly to sniff at the air, her grace heightening her senses. "I don't smell blood."

"That's good." Despite her assurance, Sam moved slowly, gun poised as he approached the closet door at the end of the hall. Alex followed, her shoulders forcefully lax, but her grace still prickled nervously; soulless people could be unpredictable — even more so that regular folk. Her grace flickered out to find Dean, slowly descending the stairs.

Sam threw the door open, quickly stepping back with his weapon raised, and Alex turned her eyes back onto the closet when a muffled scream met Sam's actions. A boy was curled up in the closet, bound by the wrists and gagged, his eyes stretched wide in fear at the sight of them.

Sam's gun immediately dropped to his side, and he hurried forward. "Hey, hey," he soothed as the boy, no more than twelve years old, flinched away, and Alex tucked her own weapon out of sight when the boy trembled. "Jordie, it's okay." Sam un-gagged him, pressing his fingers up against his own lips. "We're here to help."

Alex's eyes turned to the hall around her, her grace stretching out to examine the surrounding rooms, and she almost missed Sam calling her name. "Huh?" She drew her wings in as she turned back to Sam, blinking as she did so. "Did you say something?"

"Yeah." Sam rose to his feet, and Jordie followed, steadied by the tall Winchester. "Take him out to the car and get him inside, okay? I'm going to go find Dean."

He nudged the boy towards Alex, and with a reluctant sigh, Alex took his outstretched hand, her wings unconsciously rising as Jordie pressed himself up against her side. "Fine," she relented. "But I'll be right back." She softened her voice to add, "Come on, kid. I'm going to take you somewhere safe."

She led the way down the stairs, her feathers ruffling as she stepped onto the landing. Jordie followed in her shadow, and Alex ushered him outside, her grace slamming the front door closed behind her. "Len." She tugged Jordie down towards the Impala towards where Len sat in the back seat, his gaze focused thoughtfully on his cuffed wrist. He looked up at the sound of Alex's voice, his eyes widening in confusion at the sight of Jordie.

"Where's Agent Gabriel?" he asked, and he leaned his head out the window as he looked towards the house.

"He's still inside." Alex's grace unlocked the door, and she pointed towards the far side. "Go wait in there," she told Jordie, keeping her voice as gentle as she could. "Len will keep you safe until we return."

Alex. Sam's voice rang through her head, and Alex's wings flared up, alarmed by the intensity in his tone. It's the baby-sitter.

"Just stay here." Alex dropped Jordie's hand as she bolted back into the house. "Sam?" She slammed the door shut behind her, locking it with her grace so neither Len nor Jordie could follow. "Sam, where are you?"

Her grace snaked out towards the basement as her feet carried her towards the stairs, her feathers ruffling out when she found both Winchesters, alive yet stationary. A third figure was there, almost a whisper against her grace, and Alex threw open the basement door with a bang. "Hello?"

She hurried down the stairs, forcing her wings to lie flat as descended. Dean was slouched on the floor, his hands tied behind his back and laced around a support beam. His green eyes seemed off, as if he had just woken up, and she reached out with her grace to make sure he was okay. A small concussion, but nothing major. Her eyes turned onto Sam, who stood beside his brother, and her grace followed suit. He was fine.

Pleased to find both brothers okay, she turned her attention onto the third person in the room. A thin teenager, not much younger than Alex herself, with dark eyes and a blue streak through her thick brown hair. Alex took a second to study her before her gaze dropped down to the rifle in her hands. "Who's this?"

"Sydney. The killer babysitter." Sam answered the question, and Alex cocked an eyebrow as she looked the woman up and down. "She wants to offer us up to her new bestie Amara."

"Oh come on." Alex rolled her eyes, unable to stifle a sigh. "Amara ate your soul and now she's your best friend? Great." She lifted her chin, unwilling to show the fear at the idea of Amara being nearby. "How'd you two even meet?"

Sydney remained tight-lipped, and Alex watched as her finger shifted on the trigger. However, the young adult reluctantly began to speak. "A couple of nights ago I got pretty sloshed," she admitted. "This, uh, this smug, little trust-fund dirt-bag had just dumped me. She walked up to me and she ... she did something to me when she just grabbed my face." She fell silent for a second, her thin frown slowly melting away. "Have you guys ever seen the iced tea commercial?" she asked. "Where the lady is lying along the inflatable raft and she's just ... drifting along in a sparkling pool? That's what it was like. Being with Amara. Bliss, no hurting. No sadness, no memories."

"Sounds pretty shitty." Alex's grace snapped out to undo Dean's bonds, and the Winchester rubbed at his sore wrists with a scowl. "So what's the plan, guys? Do we kill her?" She reached back to draw her weapon, and her wings flicked as she heard the rifle cock. "If you shoot them, I'll kill you dead."

"Hold up." Sam reached out a hand to stop her, and Alex paused, her grace bubbling beneath her skin. "We don't have to kill her."

"She has no soul." Alex stepped forward, shielding the Winchesters from the rifle muzzle while she turned to confront the brothers. "What are we going to do with her? She's killed three people!" She watched as Dean's eyes flickered to the corner of the room, and she followed his gaze to two pairs of bloody shoes lying beneath a stained tarp. "Five people," she corrected. "We can't let her walk."

"Excuse me!" The rifle muzzle pushed into her ribs, a sharp, jarring shove, and Alex's feathers ruffled angrily at the action.

Her eyes met Dean's, and his head dipped in a barely perceptible nod. She spun around, her elbow knocking the rifle out of the way as she lashed out with her blade. Sydney didn't have time to move back before it plunged deep into her heart.

Her body hit the ground with a dull, heavy thud, and Alex drew back, shaking her wings out pridefully at the easy victory. She could feel Sam's surprise spark through the air, followed by indignation, and she tucked her blade back into her jeans before she turned to face him. "It had to be done," she started, but a bang from upstairs had her cutting off.

The basement door flew open to reveal Len, cradling his left hand as he looked down at them. "Are ... are you okay?" His eyes dropped down onto the body, the only change in his expression one of pale curiosity, and Alex pursed her lips together in a frown.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked. "I told you to stay in the car. Did you ..." Her eyes dropped down to his hand, held tightly against his chest, and she added, "Did you seriously break your thumb?"

"I ... I wanted to see if I could." Len looked down at the swollen flesh with a disinterested shrug. "I just ripped my hand out because I could."

Alex rolled her shoulders back, and she stepped past Sydney's body, thankful for the sudden and well-timed distraction. "For Christ's sake," she snapped, and she felt Dean follow her up the stairs. "You're like a child. Give it here." She grabbed his hand, ignoring how he winced in pain at the abrupt movement. His thumb sat in the palm of his hand, torn clean from its socket, and Alex moved the appendage back into place before letting her grace flow inwards to heal the bloody stump. The flesh knit together beneath her touch, and her hand tightened, nails digging into his flesh. Her grace tingled at the soulless man before her, poised to strike out. Sam couldn't be serious; they couldn't leave Len on his own.

A hand on her shoulder had her looking up towards Sam, and the angel let Len pull his hand away as she turned to face the hunter, ready for his reprimand. "We don't need to kill him." Sam's hazel eyes darted over to Len as he spoke, and Alex glanced back towards Dean, curious as whether he would agree with his brother or give her permission to kill.

"Kill me?" Len repeated Sam; despite the gravity of his words, his tone merely held surprise. "It's because I don't have a soul, isn't it? Because I'm going to kill someone one day. I can feel it inside," he explained when Sam's eyes widened in surprise. "Like a bubble rising up."

"I think we should definitely kill him."

"We're not killing him," Sam snapped, and Alex's feathers ruffled, surprised by the vehemence in his voice. "Okay? Not an option."

"Then there's only one thing," Len decided, and he lifted his chin as he addressed Sam and Dean. "I'm gonna turn myself in. I'll confess to all the murders. That way I can't get out." Alex felt the brothers exchange looks over her head, and Len added, "I remember what it was like to do the right thing. So, I'm going through the motions. For as long as I can."

His eyes drifted past them to the bodies on the floor before he turned to ascend the stairs again, and Alex followed with a small shrug. "That's pretty brave of you," she began as they stepped up into the kitchen. "I don't know many soulless people who would give themselves up like that."

"I'll take Len and the kid down to the police station." Dean passed Alex, his keys in his hands, and Alex paused beside the front door. "You and Sam can take care of things here, okay? Make sure there's no trace of us."

"Yeah, sure thing, Dean." Alex watched him go before she turned back to Sam, her eyes flickering across the upturned room before she spoke. "Dean told me about your new rules," she began, and Sam's eyes flickered down onto her. "So, sorry I had to kill that babysitter."

She moved past him, hoping her apology sounded more sincere than it felt, and she heard Sam follow. "No, don't apologize. She didn't give you a choice. Not like Len." He fell silent for a moment, and Alex glanced back over her shoulder to find him standing in the center of the living room. "It kind of makes sense, you know? People having different reactions to losing their soul. I did."

"Maybe," Alex reluctantly relented, and she reached up to rub at her temple as she thought. "They're not like us, Sam. You can't save one and just expect no one else to get hurt." She heaved a sigh and turned to face the Winchester. "So, what's the plan? Amara's getting stronger, and she's got one hell of an appetite."

"Yeah. That's two people in this town that have seen her. We should probably stick around a few more days and see who else turns up." Sam uprighted a chair, his shaggy hair falling in his face, and he took a moment to brush it back with a sigh. "I don't like the idea of just following around the bodies, but at this point, it's all we've got."

"I guess." Alex's feet carried her one step back, and she paused in the doorway to the kitchen. "I'll go get started downstairs. Come get me when Dean shows up." She waited for Sam to nod before she disappeared down the stairs, her shoulders falling as she descended. Cas? She lifted up her prayer, but no answer came. Hurry up and get back on your feet. We need your help.