The soft ringing of her phone woke her, and Alex groaned as she rolled over and squinted at the bedside table. Her phone sat there, vibrating and ringing quietly - interrupting her precious few hours of sleep. Growling, Alex reached over and snagged it, peering tiredly at the caller ID. The clock near where it had been sitting read nearly two in the morning.

Dean Winchester, it read, and she scowled darkly as she sat up.

Dean was out of the life. He had no business calling her up unless there was an emergency. So this call, she thought with a threatening feeling, too crabby to be nice, had better be a bloody emergency.

Regardless, she picked up, swiping at an eye sleepily. "Hullo?" she said irritably, growling into the phone to express her unhappiness.

"Alex," greeted Dean, sounding somewhat distracted. Her sharp ears caught a familiar sound in the background and her stomach roiled as she comprehended what had likely happened. Still, she said nothing, letting him talk. "Where are you?"

"A motel," she said sharply, "trying to sleep. Where are you, Winchester?"

"Driving," he said mildly. "Which motel?"

"I'm not telling you that," she said evenly, "because you are supposed to be with Lisa and Ben." There was a moment of quiet, and then a true growl bubbled from her lips. "You left them? You're a bloody…" She snarled wordlessly, unable to form the fury she felt over such a thing.

"Hey!" snapped Dean in a similarly angry way. "She told me to go do it! I can't stay out of it anyways."

"So you keep trying! You don't give up!" Alex threw her legs over the side, furious. "You have a good life, Dean, do not throw it away because you got to be a little trigger happy and take care of a baby shapeshifter!"

"I'm not having this discussion with you," Dean told her.

She snorted. "Then what did you call me for? It's two in the bloody morning. I was sleeping. I've got the first of my big hunts in the morning." She let out a large breath when he paused, considering what she meant. "I might have finally tracked down one of the bastards on my list."

"And you're going at it alone? Where's Avery? Or Bobby?"

Alex marked how he didn't include Sam's name in that tiny little list. Something about Sam was rubbing Dean the wrong way, too. Alex didn't know what Dean saw, but she thought him to be far more of an emotionless twat then he'd been. She remembered their arguments when Dean had gone to Hell, how he'd almost gotten her killed here or there during that time period. But even then, there had still been anger. Now...he just had nothing. He didn't care, and it drove her insane. It worried her immensely, too, because what would happen if they needed him to care and he didn't?

"I won't put Avery at risk," said Alex simply. "And Bobby's busy helping other people with their hunts on top of teaching Avery to protect herself. She's mentioned she wants to dish out information like Bobby does, so he's been telling her everything he can. She's even got a little journal. Like your father's."

Dean made a sound that she couldn't decipher. "Where are you?"

Alex wrinkled her nose. "I'm not letting you help."

"Fine. Then you can come help us. I just got off the phone with Sam. He has a case in Pennsylvania."

Alex wrinkled her nose then, admitting that it was oddly close to where she was in North Carolina. "I don't want to lose my trail, Dean. I've been working on this twenty-four seven."

"So call Cas," he said, getting cranky. "That's not something you should go at alone from what I heard about it."

Which wasn't much, they both knew. Alex was, admittedly, a little touched by the fact that he was clearly worried enough to demand such things, but at the same time...her lip curled at the thought of calling upon Castiel, who she knew would come if she asked. Too bad he was the last creature on this damned planet she wanted to see.

Alex opened her mouth to simply lie and tell him that she'd do that - regardless of if the angel later ratted her out unintentionally - but was cut off when the definitely locked door broke open and someone came strolling in. In the darkness, she saw the glimmer of a knife in their hand, and she whirled into action, not daring to give herself so much as a breath to gather herself.

Her blade practically sprang into her hand as she ripped it free of its binding place on her arm, and it was ready by the time she'd climbed to her feet. She swore under her breath when what she assumed to be a demon - she couldn't see it, whatever it was - slammed into her. Her hip painfully struck the bedside table, but she ignored the pain to shove back, grateful for the ounce of extra strength her skinwalker blood gave her. The demon barked in surprise when he hit the ground, but by the time she'd lunged, he'd already righted himself.

Snarling, she slashed, and the demon yelped when her blade caressed his chest, cutting through cloth and drawing blood. She felt a little bad when she thought about the person who played host to the demon. She felt even worse when she drove her shoulder into him, slamming him back down with a growl. But she shoved those feelings back, deciding that a life as a demon's host was worse than anything in death.

Once, Alex would have felt bad about intending to drive her blade home and killing the person inside. Now, her mind was filled with the memory of what the demons had done to her, and she could care less.

Alex felt something hot and burning along her arm, but she ignored the sting of silver to lurch for the demon. She slammed her knee into its gut, drawing a gasp, and didn't hesitate to jab at the demon's chest with her knife. The demon stilled when the tip pressed to his stomach, resting just beneath his ribs.

"Bitch," breathed the demon, glaring at her with more intelligence than most demons seemed to have. At least, in her experience. One of the higher-ranking ones, then. A demon after my own heart, as the third member of her little team would have said. God, she couldn't wait to drive the knife in her palm into that bastard's chest.

Alex bared her teeth in a wild grin, triumphant, and purred, "He'll have to try harder if he wants to catch me off guard." Her eyes glowed as she slammed her knife down. She gave it a few minutes, staggered to her feet, and looked down at the body before her. She took a deep breath, and then touched her hand to her arm when pain sang through her bones.

"Bloody hell," she cursed when it came away slicked with a shocking amount of blood.

She reached over and turned on the light, ignoring the furious voice that echoed from her abandoned, cracked phone. She checked the injury she'd acquired and winced. "Bloody hell," she repeated, frustrated. It wasn't too deep, but it was deep enough that it'd take a few days to heal - deep enough that going in would be suicide, since the wound was on her dominant side. Which meant she wouldn't be finishing her hunt for the first name on her list the next day. At the very least, she'd not bleed out if she took care of it.

So, with a scowl on her face, Alex stooped and hissed in pain as she grabbed her phone. Pain shot through her. Silver.

That bastard.

And he knew where she'd been intending to go more than likely.

"Change of plans," she growled, ignoring Dean's demands to know what had happened on the other end. "I'll be joining you in Pennsylvania. Send me an address." She paused, looking down at her wound, and sighed heavily. "And I'll be taking it slow."

Alex was pleased when she reached the motel address Sam had given Dean, but wasn't so pleased to find that the only one there was Sam. She liked having Dean as a go-between at some points. But...she supposed that Sam had always been the better of the two at dealing with needles, so when she kicked open the door to the motel room, ignoring the gun that was immediately pointed at her head, she merely looked at the youngest Winchester with squinted eyes. Pressing the rag she'd stolen to help staunch the bleeding firmly against her burning wound, she said hoarsely, "You'll do."

"Alex?" Sam looked puzzled, lowering the gun. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, good," muttered the cranky skinwalker, "Dean didn't tell you I was coming." She kicked the door shut behind her. "I'm going to need you to stitch me up before we do anything."

"You're helping?" He looked almost amused now - and interested in the wound she supported. She growled at the look on his face. No worry, or concern - only morbid curiosity.

"Stitches," she snapped. "If you wouldn't mind. And where's your bloody alcohol stash?" She staggered over to the fridge, yanking it open with her free hand. When she found what she wanted, she nearly threw it at Sam, but decided it'd be better to hand it over. "Open this, get your damn needle, and let's get this over with. And you'd better be careful. It's from silver."

"Okay, okay." Sam held his hands up in surrender after popping the beer open and handing it back. He went to shuffle through his duffel, and Alex overheard him muttering under his breath about her attitude. Alex bared her teeth at him.

To hell with him.

She was pissed that she'd lost her chance, because she knew for a fact that her trail was colder than ice in the North Pole now. She dropped to sit on the bed, ignoring the fact that blood began to immediately drip onto the covers when she carefully moved the rag to check. She scowled at the glimpse of bone. "I better be able to take my other body in this," she growled under her breath, because that was how she intended to do this job: as a dog. So she didn't have to talk with anyone.

Anyone meaning mostly Dean Winchester, who would be nosy as hell now that he was officially back in the profession.

Sam didn't bother to warn her, dousing the large gash in alcohol. A snarl burst from her chest, but she forced herself not to move as he calmly went to work. Her eyes locked on the wall, she sipped at her beer and then muttered, "What kind of case are we looking at?"

"Weird things happening to some cops in the area." He said it casually, though there was a hint of excitement in his voice. Alex found it rather disturbing. Once, Sam would have been sad about the loss of human life. Alex missed the old Sam, if she was being honest.

"And when," she said, "will the other one be here?"

"Dean?" he clarified, and she winced when he began to carefully stitch the wound. He didn't even look like it bothered him to jab at it. She nearly growled, but held it back. "He'll be here in an hour or two, I think. He's going to meet us at the local police station."

"Got it." She was silent for the rest of the time it took him to fix up her arm, and when he was done, she finished her beer, rose to her feet, and checked it. She winced. "Ugh," she growled, and strode away, ripping her shirt over her head.

"You sure that's a good idea?" said Sam, arching a brow when she glared over her shoulder at him, her arm throbbing with the movement and strain of tugging at her jeans. "You're going to pop the stitches."

"Bite me, Sam," she muttered, and slid into her second form, wincing a little when pain shot up her leg. She ducked her head to check it, smug when the stitches strained, but held. She just needed to be careful, and they would be fine. Carefully, she stepped on the leg. It would hurt to pretend it didn't, but it would do. She'd just hang back if something happened.

Alex perked her ears when Sam rose to his feet, her head snapping around to watch him. She blinked at him with wide blue eyes when he asked, "Do you have your gear?" She gave a curt nod and trotted over to the door, waiting for him to open the door with a pointed look. She'd show him.

She wondered what he'd think of the insanity of her trunk, which had been recently transformed into the equivalent of a demon's prison.

Sam had his issues, Alex thought as she calmly dealt with the agitating feeling of a collar around her neck. She was fighting the urge to scratch at it, knowing if she scratched too hard she'd fall over and give someone something to make fun of. She wasn't in the mood for it. She'd already dealt with staring, which was normal when she went like this, but still.

Back to the point: Sam had his issues now. He clearly hadn't cared about jabbing a needle into her arm. But even he was giving her odd looks every now and then as he considered what he'd seen in her car. Alex ignored him. She knew what was in there, and she didn't need to explain herself. She fully expected Dean to question her at some point - hence a partial reason she was in her canine form.

Her ears pricked as a familiar engine filled her ears, and she rose to her feet with care. Sam glanced down at her and then followed her gaze as a car pulled into the parking lot. He lowered the papers they'd briefly retrieved from the station, straightening. The Impala rolled into a parking spot, and Alex snorted when the door opened and a suit-clad Dean climbed out, on the phone.

"-you're lying. Because I lie professionally," he was saying. "That's how. Now tell your mom you broke the damn thing and take it like a man. Okay? Okay." He hung up after that, and then paused when he realized Alex and Sam were staring at him. "What?"

"You. Molding the minds of tomorrow. Who knew?" mused Sam, and Alex rolled her eyes before giving a wolfish grin when Dean threw her an irritable glare, as if he knew precisely part of the reason she was sitting there as a dog. He had several questions for her, and he didn't appreciate that he couldn't clearly ask them without getting proper answers.

"You gonna be like that all day?" he asked her and she gave him another grin that had him subtly giving her a rude gesture. She snorted and turned her face away in mock boredom.

"How'd it go?" Sam asked, drawing Dean's attention back to other matters. Dean glanced at him, confused. "You and Lisa. How'd she take it when you bailed?"

"Shockingly cool, actually." Dean ran a hand through his hair, and Sam tossed him Alex's leash as they started for the police station doors. He looked about as pleased about it as Alex felt. Still, he didn't complain and Alex carefully trotted along at his heels, her nose working in overtime. Pain shot through her leg with every motion, but she forced herself not to react. Just another reason to earn questions.

"Officer Gerald Hatch, seventeen-year veteran, found dead in the ready room three days ago," said Sam, handing the files over to Dean. "The guy just...liquefied. Most of the meat, bones, dense tissues - they just turned to blood." Alex wrinkled her nose. Gross.

"Okay, I don't get it," said Dean, and Sam gave him a confused look. Dean stared blankly at his brother, not sure what he was getting at. "If the guy was a mop job, then what are we doing in the morgue? What's left of him to look at?"

Alex snorted softly, and wrinkled her nose again as Sam led them into the morgue, heading straight for a specifically numbered drawer. They'd already taken a peek - and it was disgusting. She wasn't enjoying this job too much. "We're not here to look at him," said Sam, prying the drawer open. "We're here to look at this guy. Officer Toby Gray. They just brought him in. Found dead in his patrol car, sitting at a speed trap on the outside of town."

Dean made a sound of disgust when the drawer was pulled open to reveal the body of a policeman who'd died - and was covered entirely in angry red boils. "'Extreme allergic reaction,'" recited Dean after shuffling through the files Sam had given him. Alex, having already taken a look, settled down at his feet, resting her head on her paws to listen. "Boils on the inside, too. Says his airways are chock full of them. This starting to look a little witchy to you?"

"That was my first instinct, but I found zero signs of hex work anywhere for the first guy. Far as I can tell, witchcraft was not involved." Sam said it confidently and firmly.

"There's got to be some sort of link between 'em," muttered Dean, eyeing the boil-covered man with distaste. Sam agreed with a curt nod, and Dean took a moment to think it over before asking, "Can I get a witness?"

"Yep. Uh…" Sam reached over and took the files from Dean, shuffling through them until he found what he was looking for. "Officer Ed Colfax. Saw Hatch go from solid to a liquid. He was Hatch's partner." Sam slid the drawer shut without looking, skimming the files for the address they'd need, and Alex made a sound of relief when the smell of the dead man faded slightly. She carefully rose to her feet and wished that she could stretch, but eyed her leg and thought better of it.

"You riding with me or him?" asked Dean as they made their way out of the station. Alex threw him a dirty look; did he even need to ask? He shrugged and faced forward. She let herself limp just slightly as they slid from the building, and when Sam had given them the address, they broke off to head for the Impala.

Alex couldn't help the slight shiver of delight that ran down her spine when Dean propped the back door open for her. She carefully hoisted herself in, pretending not to see the odd look shot at her. Her leg hurt. She wondered if there was any lingering silver, but asking would mean changing forms, and she didn't want to deal with that just yet.

Dean nudged the door shut behind her and then swung into the driver's seat. "You wanna tell me what the hell happened last night?" he demanded the second the door was shut. She snorted as she stretched out and put her head on her paws, ignoring the glare he sent over his shoulder. "And what the hell were you thinking, going after something like you described without backup? Haven't you yelled at us for that?"

She slid him a look out of the corner of her eye. It was none of his business...yet. She had no doubt the information would get out eventually.

She hoped it wasn't too soon. At least Dean semi-knew.

They drove in silence the rest of the way there, and Alex dozed, trying to forget her burning leg - until the Impala suddenly roared forward, making her jolt awake with a grunt of surprise. Alex snapped her head up to stare at Dean when he snickered and threw the Impala into park upon it yanking to a halt.

He didn't bother to explain, however, and Alex yawned as she patiently waited for him to open the door for her. When he had, she crawled over to the edge of the seat. With care, she clambered out, letting her uninjured side take the brunt of her weight. Her wound was throbbing now, worse so than before, and she ducked her head to light sniff at it. She wrinkled her nose. She'd need to have it cleaned up again. She'd busted one or two stitches.

When Dean had her leash in hand, they made their way over to where Sam was waiting, his brow cocked. "Were you racing me?" asked Sam when they reached him, and Alex threw Dean a dirty look. Seriously? Was he a child?

"No," said Dean, cracking a smug grin. "I was kicking your ass."

Alex rolled her eyes and followed after them, hopping here and there to try and relieve some of the pain. She was cursing herself for not taking anything for the pain by the time they'd reached the front door, where Dean knocked sharply and called out a greeting. She cursed Sam, too, for not bothering to suggest the idea to her.

The door opened and they were greeted by a rather aggressive looking man in a police uniform, his face set in a look that told Alex that they probably should have turned and gone the complete other direction. He scowled at them, gaze darting between them. He might have been good looking, she thought, had he not been covered in sweat and had deep, dark shadows beneath his eyes. She wrinkled her nose. Something smelled odd about him, too. "Who the hell are you?"

"We're the Feds," said Sam with a blunt, no-nonsense voice. "We're here to ask a few follow-up questions about your partner's death."

"Don't worry about it, it's nobody's business." Colfax slammed the door shut, locking it, and there was a brief moment of shock as Sam and Dean looked at one another. Dean looked over his shoulder at Alex, half-seated behind him. She gave a flick of an ear - an old signal they'd all once agreed on.

Sam saw it, too, and rather than knocking, kicked the door in.

"Dude!" snapped Dean, even as he followed Sam inside. Alex trotted after him, blocking out the stab of agony that raced up her leg. Not now, she told herself. They followed Sam and ultimately Colfax into an office, and Alex shivered at the way some pictures lining the walls of the halls had faces scratched out. They all paused when they found him sitting at his desk, scratching out the face of another picture with a screwdriver. Her fur bristled; that could be a nasty weapon if they weren't careful.

"Hey, man, you good?" said Dean, hesitant to go any closer to the man, who muttered that they needn't worry about it. "Right. Look, Officer Colfax...Ed. We think that your partner died of unnatural causes." Colfax didn't respond, merely scratched at his hat-covered head. "Did he have any weapons that you know of?"

"You might say that," said Colfax without looking up.

"Oh, yeah? Who's that?"

"They both had it coming. Me, too. I'll be the next to go, and then it'll be over, and God will be satisfied."

Alex immediately knew what would occur on this case, and she couldn't figure out if she was excited about it or if she should leave. On one hand, it'd make her life easier. Less hunting. But on the other…

"Why does God want you dead?" Dean questioned carefully.

"'Cause of Christopher Birch." A violent jerk of his elbow had them all flinching, but the man merely knocked over a bottle of beer on the desk. He watched it spill onto the floor for a few seconds before frowning lightly. "Damn it."

"Who's Christopher Birch?" Sam asked with a hint of impatience.

"He has no face." The man shakily righted the bottle, saying nothing more. Both Sam and Dean prompted him a few more times, Sam with increasing agitation and Dean with a little more concern. "Christopher Birch is a kid with no face...and a planted gun."

The scent of blood touched Alex's nose just as Dean cleared his throat, indicating that something was dripping from beneath his hat. Colfax blinked at him blankly and then touched his fingers to the blood. "Damn," murmured Colfax, "my head's been itching like a dirty jock."

And then he collapsed, face slamming almost brutally into the desk before him. Alex jolted, wincing at the fact that he'd landed face-first into broken glass. Sam declared him dead with a grimace, but Alex ignored the sudden questions he was muttering in favor of growling. Her ears had caught an odd buzzing sound that had been hidden beneath voices. A chill ran down her spine when a massive locust suddenly crawled out from beneath his hat. It was quickly followed by several more and Dean and Sam both swore under their breaths, staring.

This was anything but pleasant, Alex couldn't help but think.

And she really didn't like where this case was heading.

Alex ran out of luck when they returned to the motel room. She forced herself to change forms again, and she groaned under her breath when she had finished pulling on clothes, running a hand through her sweaty hair. She grimaced, studying the swollen injury on her arm. It looked infected. She might have to open it back up and clean it out better than Sam had.

When she emerged from the bathroom, staggering a little, she was greeted by a shockingly comfortable sight. Both Sam and Dean were at the small table, working. Dean was sorting through papers - files they'd semi-stolen from the police department; Sam was tapping away at his laptop, eyes scanning whatever page he found that might be useful. Alex found herself sad; once, this had been an everyday sight, where she'd comfortably be assured that it would happen again.

Lately...not so much.

"Blood, boils, locusts," Dean was muttering as she made her way over and stood beside the table. She plucked up a piece of paper to investigate. It was a police report.

"Three of your more popular Egyptian plagues," said Sam without looking up.

"Disgusting is what it was," muttered Alex as Dean eyed the jar they'd used to gather the locusts. He muttered his agreement.

"Meanwhile," said Sam, suddenly spinning his computer around, "a kid named Christopher Birch was shot in the head last month after a vehicle pursuit. Hatch, Gray, and Colfax were the three officers involved, and they all filed the exact same police report."

"'Suspect excited vehicle brandishing a firearm. We were forced to fire,'" murmured Alex dutifully when Sam gestured to the paper she was holding. She growled low in her throat, putting the paper down. "'Just a kid with no face and a planted gun.'"

"Bunch of dicks," said Dean firmly, annoyed. "So they pop the kid, plant the piece."

Sam slapped his laptop shut, leaning back in his chair with folded arms. He furrowed his brow in thought and said, "Maybe Colfax is right. Maybe Heaven has a hate-on for bad cops." When Dean scoffed, Sam insisted, "Dean, angels got to have something to do now that we're post-apocalypse. Right?"

Here we go, thought Alex as Dean climbed to his feet and went to retrieve a beer. She flipped through other papers mindlessly, not really noticing what she was reading as Dean popped the beer bottle open and suggested, "We should call Cas."

Her shoulders tightened. Sam scoffed in response to Dean's suggestion. "You're kidding, right? Dean, I tried. It was the first, the second, and the third thing I did, soon as I got topside. Son of a bitch won't answer the phone."

"What about you?" demanded Dean, rounding on Alex. "Have you heard from him lately?"

Alex calmly picked her mind for a proper answer. "Not recently," she said honestly after a moment. "No."

Sam paused, studying her with a calculating look. Dean, in his determination, missed the pause, but Sam certainly didn't. She met his gaze coldly, daring him to ask. To her relief, he was distracted as Dean sank onto the edge of a bed and said, "Well, let's give it a shot at least. Now I lay my head down to sleep. I pray to Castiel to get his feathery ass down here."

"You're an idiot," said Sam.

"I support that comment."

Dean threw Alex a dirty look, not happy that she was supporting his brother's commentary. "Stay positive," he huffed at them, before looking around the room, as if he half-expected Castiel to have materialized by this point. "Come on, Cas! Don't be a dick. We got ourselves a...a plague-like situation down here. Do you copy?"

Alex heard the fluttering of wings as Sam scowled and said, "See? Son of a bitch doesn't answer." Her fingers stilled when her blue eyes lifted and found the angel standing behind Sam, as cold as glacier ice. Dean said something proudly when Sam swore and jerked out of his chair, spinning around to face the angel that had appeared.

It was the movement she'd been waiting for.

She lunged.

Dean had been expecting many things when Castiel appeared. Sam's attitude towards the angel suggested that there'd probably be several questions about why he'd not appeared when Sam had sought him out. Maybe some conversation about the case. Some teasing on Alex's part.

He most certainly did not expect what truly happened.

In one explosive movement, Alex used the table to hurl herself over it. The table clattered to the ground loudly with a massive crash. She barely noticed when she popped the stitches on her arm, instead ripping her knife free and almost tripping over the chair Sam had been sitting in. Dean got one good look at Castiel's startled face before she was on him.

"Alex!" barked Dean, lunging forward. Sam merely stood there, startled - but interested in what was happening, gaze watching what happened closely.

Alex ignored him, instead fisting her fingers in Castiel's collar. The angel looked relatively calm as she slammed him back into the wall, her blade already angled for his throat. He stopped the swift movement simply by grabbing her injured arm, looking as if he felt bad for doing so. She yelped, the blade clattering to the floor. Her eyes burned hatefully into his, teeth bared in a vicious snarl, and then Dean was there. When he couldn't simply pull her back, he lifted her, hoisting her into the air. She shrieked in outrage, the sound cold with fury.

"Put me down, Winchester!" she shouted, her voice high-pitched. She thrashed, and Dean threw his brother a look. Sam snatched up Alex's knife and retreated a few steps. Only when he was sure that Alex wouldn't get her hands on it did he put her down. He yelped when her first move was to simply deck him with her uninjured arm, her eyes blazing with fury.

"What the hell, Alex?" he snapped, rubbing his jaw, and she ignored him in favor of whirling on Castiel, regardless of the fact that she no longer had her weapon. Dean's gaze slid to Castiel, taking in his response; the angel looked a mixture of sad, guilty, and even a little angry.

"Alex," Castiel said calmly after a moment, straightening. He looked as if he fully intended to ignore what had just happened. "This can be dealt with later. There's another matter-"

"Another matter," she muttered, voice lifting again. "Another matter. That's what you said last time. There was 'another matter that needed to be attended to,' if I remember correctly. But as far as I know, there was never any other matter." Her breath came ragged, and she nearly trembled with the rage she exuded. Dean doubted she even noticed the blood that slicked her, nor did he think she'd noticed that, for whatever reason, Castiel had healed the wound when he'd grabbed it. "Sam Winchester, you have three seconds to give me my knife back."

"Err, can you do this later?" said Sam, gaze darting between Dean, Alex, and Castiel. "We've got a case, remember? A case we need his help for?"

She laughed. "Fuck the case," she snarled, and Dean blinked. She never used such language. As far as he knew, anyways. And she never said such things about their cases, too. "I want my knife. I promised that the next time I saw you, Castiel, that I would kill you, and I sure as bloody hell intend to keep that promise. Unlike you, I don't tend to break my promises." Her voice broke, and the rage suddenly turned to misery.

Dean stared at her openly. Something about her words, he thought, feeling uneasy, rang a bell. Rather than standing around trying to figure it out, however, he cleared his throat, reminding the pair that he and Sam were there. "Look," he said, cutting in reluctantly. Something told him this wasn't an argument he really wanted to be involved with. "Uh, Alex? We kind of need the guy. Can you kill him later?"

Not that he'd let her. Castiel, regardless of the fact that he'd not helped Sam when he'd needed it, was a friend. A damn good friend, who Dean trusted as much as he trusted Sam, Bobby, and Alex. But they needed to get their attention on the case at hand before more people turned up dead, and Castiel was vital for that.

"Hold on," said Sam suddenly, and Dean nearly groaned. Here we go. Now it was Sam's turn to distract the angel from the situation at hand, though he supposed it was better than what Alex had been up to; at least Sam wasn't inclined to kill him. "I spent all that time trying to get through to you. Dean calls once and you just showed up? So, what...you like him better or something?"

Castiel made a small, exasperated gesture. "Dean and I do share a more profound bond." Dean gawked at him. "I wasn't going to mention it."

Dean rubbed his hands down his face, suddenly drained. Officially back in the life for less than a day, and he was already being dragged into two separate arguments. Grumbling, Dean said, "Cas, what he's trying to say is that he went to Hell for us. I mean, he really took one for the team. You remember that? And then he comes back without a clue, and you can't take five friggin' minutes to give him some answers?"

Castiel surprised him with a rather nasty scowl. "If I had any answers, I might have responded, but I don't know, Sam. We have no idea who brought you back from the cage. Or why."

"So it wasn't God?"

"No one's even seen God. The whole thing remains mysterious." Alex snorted, rolling her eyes. Castiel ignored her.

"Cas," sighed Dean, "look, if Sam calls, you answer. Okay? You wing your ass down here, and you tell him, 'I don't know.' Just because we have some sort of a - a bond, or whatever-"

"You think I came because you called? I came because of this." Castiel side-swiped any support Dean might have offered him in favor of stooping to gather some of the files Alex had knocked askew. Alex merely grinned at the sight, her eyes flickering with amusement - and not the good kind.

"He doesn't come when you call for him," she told Dean almost gleefully. Dean frowned at her, admittedly concerned about her state of mind. He'd have a conversation with her about this later, he decided with a heavy sigh. "Nice to know what matters, right, Dean?" She turned to Sam. "Give me my knife back." He eyed her suspiciously. "I'm not going to stab the angel in our midst. Not yet, anyways. I've waited this long to, I can wait five more minutes. Anticipation makes it all the sweeter."

Sam checked with Dean and then reluctantly pressed the black knife into her hands. She lined it up against her arm - and then paused. "Castiel," Alex said icily, "did you heal me?" A dark growl spilled from her throat.

He said nothing, instead announcing, "We aren't the ones behind these killings, but they were committed with one of our weapons. There's only one thing that could have brought this into existence. You call it the Staff of Moses." He gestured to the jar of locusts that had hit the ground. It had cracked, but miraculously not broken. "It was used in a dominance display against the Egyptians, as I recall."

"Yeah, that one made the papers," scoffed Dean, going to work on gathering papers. Reluctantly, Alex helped him, still growling to herself. She righted the table so they could put the papers there, too. He noted how she avoided Castiel like the plague, refusing to go so much as an inch closer than necessary to the angel.

"I thought the Staff turned, like, a river into blood. Not one guy." Sam didn't bother to help, instead looking at Castiel with a puzzled expression, his arms folded across his chest.

"The weapon isn't being used at full capacity. I think we can rule Moses out as a suspect," answered Castiel, and Dean's eyebrows lifted. Was that a straight out joke Castiel had just made? He fully expected someone to respond to it, but no one did. Alex only stared daggers at the angel, and Sam waited impatiently for more information. "So," he said finally, deciding he'd be the only one to talk for the time being, "what's it doing down here, anyway? I mean, don't you guys put away your toys?"

"Before the apocalypse, Heaven may have been corrupt, but it was stable," Castiel said with a sigh, picking his words carefully with a furrowed brow. "The staff was safely contained. It's been chaos since the war ended and in that confusion, a number of...powerful weapons were stolen."

"Mm," hummed Alex, not impressed. "And are those missing weapons the 'other matter,' Castiel?"

"Yes," said Castiel tightly. "Along with a few other things."

"Good to know. Could have known a little sooner," she seethed.

Before Alex could start another fight with Castiel, Dean hastily cut in. "So there's a bunch of nukes on the loose."

"Yes, I'm afraid so. But you've stumbled onto one of them, and we must find the weapon that did this." He gestured to the locusts, which still resided in the jar he'd picked up. "I'll need your help."

Alex barked out a very loud laugh. "Like bloody hell I'll help you. You're the one who made this mess, so clean it up." Castiel frowned at her, and Dean did, too. Sam simply lifted a brow in question, as if siding with the skinwalker. She looked pleased with his response and that alone worried Dean more than anything else. She'd not said much on it, but he knew she trusted Sam very little at the moment. He didn't either, but still.

Castiel's eyes flickered with sudden agitation and Dean stared when he suddenly tossed the jar in her direction. No, he threw it. She narrowly caught it before it hit the ground, startled. "You three, my 'people skills' are rusty. Pardon me, but I have spent the last year as a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent. But believe me, you do not want that weapon down here. So you will help me find it, or more people will die." He glowered at Alex, who glared right back.

Once again, Dean studied them, wondering what had happened between the pair, because it most certainly did not seem like Castiel had spent most of his year as a "wave of celestial intent." Nevertheless, he said almost soothingly, "Alright, alright, we get it. If the angels didn't pull the trigger, then that brings us back to motive." Castiel glanced at him, confused.

"Right," agreed Sam, hastily returning to the case. "Right now, we've got three dead cops. And the only thing linking them is this." He extended a hand that held a single newspaper clipping. Alex stepped over to peer at it over Dean's shoulder, her gaze sharp, and Dean frowned. Father of slain suspect calls for investigation.

So to the Birch family they would go-

Within one moment and the next, the scene around them had changed. Sam dropped the newspaper clipping out of sheer shock, his gaze stunned. Castiel didn't look the least bit concerned by the fact that he'd just confused the hell out of the three he'd been with. Instead, his attention turned on the man that rocked to his feet a few feet in front of them, frightened by their appearance.

"What - how'd you-?!"

Sam was the only one capable of getting his thoughts together in time to address the shocked, scared man. "Mr. Birch, settle down." He flashed the badge that had miraculously been in his pocket. "Federal agents."

"B-but you can't just walk in here!" cried Darryl Birch, his eyes darting between each of the four people in his house. He looked terrified.

Alex shook her head to clear it, considering kicking Castiel in the shin to express her agitation with the angel. Instead, however, she smiled charmingly at Darryl. "You don't have to be so frightened, Mr. Birch," she soothed in a voice completely at odds from the one she'd been using only moments before. "It's alright. We know the truth. Your son didn't have a gun on him when those cops shot him - they set him up."

Darryl studied her for a few moments before saying furiously, his dark eyes brimming with unshed tears, "They're all getting theirs now."

"And who's giving it to them, Darryl?" said Dean rather threateningly, clearing his throat. "Did you kill them?"

Darryl jolted, caught off guard. "Wh-what?! Me?! I didn't...I didn't kill anyone! Look at how they died." He took a step back, somewhat nervous again, and Alex threw Dean a glare. Could he have not been a little nicer about it?

"We don't have time for this," said Castiel with a scowl, pushing past the rest of them. Alex hissed when he dared to brush past her, growling under her breath when he got in Darryl's face. Honestly. They were more likely to get somewhere in this scenario if they were patient and willing to talk instead of offering violence. Granted, she was sure that such a thought was a bit hypocritical, but still. "Where is the Staff of Moses?"

"Leave my dad alone!"

There was a moment of silence, and then they all turned to look at the boy that stood in the doorway, a stick brandished in his hand as if it were a weapon. His eyes were full of terror as he stared at them, gaze darting from person to person. He was young, perhaps in his early teens, with a thick mop of black curls atop his head.

Old enough to know what he was doing, thought Alex warily, her gaze resting on the short stick in his hand. "Is...is that…?"

"Yes," confirmed Castiel, cocking his head with a hint of a frown. "It's...it's been sawed off."

"Leave him alone!" cried the boy. "It wasn't him."

Alex felt even worse for poor Daryll when he cried, "Aaron, get out of here!" He was clearly terrified of losing a second son after losing the first. No one deserved that, Alex thought as Castiel pressed his fingers to Darryl's forehead, forcing the man to collapse back onto the sofa unconscious.

"W-what did you do to him? cried Aaron, terrified for his father. He pointed the Staff at Castiel, who ignored the threat to vanish, reappearing in the next heartbeat beside the boy. His eyes flashed as he snatched it from his hands, ignoring the boy's cry of fear and tears.

"Castiel," snarled Alex, having no patience for him. She held her hands out in surrender, smiling reassuringly at the boy. "Your father's fine, merely sleeping. We won't hurt you, alright? We merely want to know where you got that stick of yours."

"Please don't kill my dad," sobbed the boy, "it was me, I did it!"

Dean sighed heavily. "Nobody's killing anybody," he promised. "What's your name?"

"A-Aaron Birch."

"Okay, Aaron Birch, where did you get the stick?" When Aaron told Dean that he wouldn't believe him, Aaron grew shy, hunching his shoulders. "Come on, kid, try me. There's not a lot I won't believe."

"It...was an angel," Aaron finally admitted, looking at his feet. "Those liars, they killed my brother, and nothing bad even happened to them. It's not fair. So, I prayed to God every night he would punish them. God didn't answer - but he did."

"His name," said Castiel urgently, ignoring the way he flinched away from the angel. "Did he give you a name?"

"No." Aaron's eyes flickered with fear as he stared up at Castiel. Alex rumbled a warning growl, fully prepared to leap to the child's defense if need be. He was but a boy and didn't deserve what kind of punishments Castiel was capable of. "He just said I could have jusic, but I was gonna have to take it myself. He...he gave me the stick."

"He just...gave it to you?" Dean looked on in disbelief, unable to think that something akin to an angel would do something like this out of the goodness of his heart. "Come on, kid, he didn't just give it to you, did he?"

The boy faltered, quiet for a few moments. Finally he mumbled, "I bought it." When Dean, ignoring snickering from his brother, prompted him further about what he'd paid the angel for the Staff piece, Aaron reluctantly answered, "My soul."

"You sold your soul to an angel?" said Sam, eyebrows lifting high.

"Ignore him and the one in the trench coat," Alex told Aaron with a small pointed glare at Sam. "They're a bunch of twats."

Castiel furrowed his brow, troubled by what he'd heard. "An angel buying souls has never occurred before...but that could explain why he cut the staff into pieces. More pieces, more profit. The question is, then, who is the angel doing this?" Without stopping to wait for an answer, he declared, "We'll find him," pressed his fingers to Aaron's forehead, and then swung Aaron over his shoulder.

Alex was startled when they found themselves back in the motel room. She scowled, not pleased about it, but decided to keep from saying anything. Instead, she rushed over to where Castiel was laying the unconscious Aaron on the bed. She took the piece of Staff wearily when it was shoved at her, eyeing the powerful object with caution.

She found that she wasn't too excited to be holding it, but instead frowned and said, "You just kidnapped the boy!" She looked desperately at Dean, hoping he'd back her up; he looked as concerned as she felt, thank the heavens above. She quickly put it down, making sure to keep a close eye on it.

"If the angel," said Castiel, ignoring her, "we seek truly bought this boy's soul...when a claim is laid on a living soul, it leaves a mark - a brand." Dean thoughtfully touched a scar that lingered on his shoulder from where Castiel had grabbed him and pulled him from Hell; Alex wondered if it ever ached like her scars had before Barachiel had been a bastard and erased them all. "I can read the mark and find the name of the angel that bought the soul."

"How?" said Sam curiously.

"Painfully for him," Castiel admitted. "The reading will be excruciating."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Dean shoved between Castiel and the bed that Aaron was resting on. Alex watched them intently, her fingers itching to reach for her blade. "Hold on, he's just a kid, Cas. A kid! Sam, c'mon, man, back me up!"

Sam ignored Dean, focused thoughtfully on Castiel. "Any permanent damage?" he asked after a few moments, and Dean and Alex gawked at him in matching horror, shocked by what they were hearing.

Alex snarled when Castiel confirmed, "Physically? Minimal."

"You're not," she said dangerously, her fingers brushing over her arm pointedly, "touching this boy, Castiel. He is a child. And he can't even agree to do so! You knocked him out!" She jabbed a finger in the boy's direction, her eyes flickering with fury.

"Alex," Castiel gritted out, looking frustrated with her refusal, "if I get the name, I can work a ritual to track the angel down! There is no other way!" His blue eyes blazed with frustration and anger as he bristled at her in turn, and had there been visible wings on his back, Alex knew they'd have been flared wide like a furious bird.

There were a few moments in which they glared at one another, each waiting for the other to back down. Finally, Alex gave a bitter laugh, a vicious grin slicing over her face as she stepped away. "Why the bloody hell," she muttered, "did I think you'd care? You proved you didn't long ago."

Castiel watched her grimly, anger replaced with what Alex thought might have been regret. "I don't have the luxury to care," he said grimly and within seconds had strode up to the boy, shoving his hand into the boy, straight beneath his ribs. Aaron began to scream, writhing in agony even while unconscious, a glow encompassing his ribs wherever Castiel was touching. Alex felt tears of frustration and anger rise to her eyes as she stonily watched, even stopping Dean with a hand on his wrist.

"Don't," she muttered to him, her grip tightening gently. "Don't bother. He doesn't...Dean, just trust me. He won't listen right now." Her gaze flickered to Sam, and then met Dean's burning gaze with a tired one of her own. "I don't think either of them will."

Dean pressed his mouth into a hard line, believing her full-heartedly and finding that he wasn't happy about it. But he focused as Castiel withdrew his hand, his expression uncertain as he turned away from Aaron. "He'll rest now," said Castiel, and Alex blinked at the hoarseness of his voice.

"Did you get a name?" prompted Sam, not even bothering to ask about Aaron's well being. He didn't look over as Alex ducked past them, sweeping over to gently touch the boy's forehead and ensure for herself that he was unharmed. "What is it?"

Castiel clenched his face, eyes flashing. "I thought he died in the war...he was a good friend of mine. Balthazar...I wonder…"

"Balthazar. Thanks, Castiel, we'll make good use of the name."

They all whirled around to face the owner of the voice that had spoken, shocked. Alex had her blade in hand instantly, a snarl on her face as the angel that had appeared, dressed in an immaculate suit that reminded her of Zachariah, lunged with an angel blade for Castiel. Castiel barely had enough time to hurl his blade up to block the strike, his eyes widening in shock. "And by the way," hissed the angel, grinning, "Raphael says hello."

They became a whirlwind of violence. Alex forced herself not to move, heaving for air as the pair hurled one another around. Each lost a blade before long, struggling, and Alex yelped when Castiel was slammed into the wall closest to her, pressing herself back to avoid getting involved. Sam and Dean watched in silent shock, unsure of how they could actually help.

And then Castiel suddenly shoved as hard as he could, throwing the angel off balance. "Cas!" Dean barked, but he'd slammed into the other angel and together, they went right through a window, toppling out of the building. Alex whipped around to peer out the window, baring her teeth over her shoulder when Sam jostled her and nearly tipped her out as he tried to look.

"My car," complained Sam when he saw the devastated vehicle below. Alex gaped at him; he was worried about that? They'd just wittnessed an assassination attempt on Castiel - after finding out that another angel was behind what was going on with the unconscious child in the bed.

Quite suddenly, Alex thought that "another matter" might actually exist.

"He's gone," said Castiel behind them, and all three whipped around to look. Castiel looked concerned, his brow furrowed as he strode over to the small kitchenette and fished around until he found a bowl. When Sam demanded to know who the angel had been, Castiel answered grimly. "A soldier of Raphael. He must have followed me here when I answered your call. I can explain later, right now we have to-"

"No," barked Dean, storming towards Castiel. He paused, bowl still in hand. "Not later, now. Stop, alright?! Too many angels, Cas! I don't know who's on first, what's on second." Castiel stared blankly at him, not comprehending what he meant at all.

"It is simple: Raphael and his followers want Raphael to rule Heaven. That is the last thing I and many others want. It would be catastrophic."

Alex reluctantly joined the Winchesters, glancing over her shoulder to check on Aaron. He was still unconscious, however, so she simply put her blade away and focused on what could potentially be a more important matter.

"You're talking civil war," said Sam, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

"Technically, yes." Castiel strode away to shuffle around below a bed, snagging Sam's weaponry. He began looking through it as he spoke, looking determined as he did so. "Which is why we have to find Balthazar and his weapons before Raphael does. Whoever has the weapons wins the war."

"And if Raphael wins, Castiel?" asked Alex coolly. "What the bloody hell does he want that makes him willing to go to war?"

Castiel found what he'd been looking for: a flask of holy water. "What he's always wanted - to end the story the way it was written." He vanished, reappearing with the holy water and bowl in his hands beside the table. They moved over to watch him.

"You mean the apocalypse?" Dean questioned, frowning as Castiel dumped his newfound things on the table. "The one that we derailed?"

"Yes. That one. Raphael wants to put it back on the rails." Castiel studied his belongings, and then sighed. "I need myrrh." He disappeared before they could question him, reappearing a few seconds later with his myrrh. The second he had, he placed it, too, on the table and proceeded to swipe their things off so he could begin scribbling sigils in chalk.

"Why does he want to bring back the apocalypse?" demanded Alex, peering over his shoulder irritably at what he was doing. "And why didn't you bother to try and tell us this?!" she added snappishly with a growl that burst from her throat violently.

"He's a traditionalist, and I was ashamed. I expected more from my brothers...I'm sorry." He paused just long enough to look at her with a sincerity that shocked her. She merely looked away, her jaw working furiously as she tried to decide whether or not she should trust him even remotely. "Now," he continued after a moment, dragging Dean over by the wrist and earning a squawk in surprise, "I need your blood."

"Whoa, whoa! Hey, hold on - ow!" Dean hissed as Castiel didn't bother to ask, drawing the blade in his hand across Dean's palm. He ripped his hand away after blood had dripped into the bowl, peering at the wound with shock on his face. "Why don't you use your own?" he demanded as Alex sighed and went to fetch him a rag. She passed it to him, and he pressed it over the deep slice, troubled by what was happening.

"How long does this spell take?" Sam glanced from his brother and Alex to Castiel, impatient.

"Got him," said Castiel a moment later, already reaching for them. "Let's go."

"Hold on," Alex cut in, holding a hand up to stop him. "What about the child?" She jabbed a finger in Aaron's direction with a pointed glare, and Castiel glanced over his shoulder at the boy with a frown.

"The police will take him home," Castiel said finally, inclining his head as the distant sounds of sirens filled the air. He ignored Alex's protest and within moments, they were gone.

"You good, Alex?" muttered Dean as she kept her ears alert for sounds, her blue eyes searching for nothing in particular. Sam had gone to prowl around the outside of the mansion, seeking another good spot to put a sigil as Dean painted one. Alex, alert, had stayed to keep guard over him so he could focus.

Alex grunted in response, rolling her eyes to show him that she thought his question was stupid. Did she look okay? Castiel had not only hurt a child without remorse, but she'd been coerced into trusting the last person on the planet she wanted to trust.

She remained in a grouchy silence as Dean muttered under his breath before continuing with the question she knew he'd been dying to ask for the last few hours: "Is Cas one of the people on that list of yours?"

Alex stilled, her body locking up in response to his words. A growl spilled from deep in her chest as she slowly pivoted her head to glare at him furiously. That's none of your business, her glare told him. He merely cocked a brow before going back to work, talking as he did so. "'Cause it sure as hell looks to me like he was the way you went after him. Never seen you react like that, even with the demons and stuff we've been dealing with."

Alex continued to glare at him, silently seething. Bastard. Finally, she said with an icy tone, "Don't talk about things you don't know about, Winchester." Even then, he was clearly waiting for a better answer than that, painting away with an occasional wince as he smeared his blood on the walls. Alex found herself disliking the smell. "Fine. Yes. Castiel the bloody angel is on my list."

"The partner?" suggested Dean. Alex's gaze darkened further and she withdrew her blade from its hiding place, twirling it in a manner that told him to leave it alone. He took that as a silent admission, however, and said, "That explains how your partner knew about Avery then." He paused, however, and turned around to look over his shoulder with a frown. "Hold on, what the hell were you doing if Castiel was involved with the stuff you were talking about? The stuff you got 'worked over' for?"

Alex's hands shook, images flickering through her mind. Memories of pain and more. "I'm not talking about this right now," she murmured, grimacing when her voice shook, too. A heavy sigh escaped her when her voice even cracked. "And I told you, Dean, I'm not an oathbreaker. I won't betray the trust given to me - even if Castiel broke the trust I gave him."

Dean stopped to stare at her and she made a small gesture, indicating that he should keep working. He studied her for a few moments, thinking, and then finally went back to work. As he finished the sigil, he said, "You know, if you want help with that list of yours, all you have to do is ask."

"I know." Despite her unhappiness, a smile tugged at her lips. "And I am grateful that you'd be willing to do so, Winchester, more so than you can imagine. I cannot say that Lisa would likely appreciate me putting you in that much danger, however." Dean grimaced at the reminder of his girlfriend, and Alex uttered a low laugh, amused. The laugh dissipated, however, when thunder crashed, loud and deafening. Dean and Alex exchanged grim looks. The angels were here. Alex steadied her hands, shifting her grip on her knife, and listened intently. The plan was simple, and the only part she had to play was to warn Dean.

Sure enough, within twenty minutes of heat-racing waiting, she heard the sounds of pounding footsteps. "Dean," she rumbled, crouching low in preparation. She watched the direction they were coming from, and when Sam raced around the corner, an angel blade in hand, she lunged, slamming into the angel as hard as she could. The angel yelped, furious, and rolled out of the way to avoid her blade as it slammed down.

The angel vanished, reappearing behind Sam with his own blade angled for the younger Winchester's throat. "You think you can knife-fight an angel?" he barked at them.

Dean scowled. "Who's fighting?" The angel snapped its head towards him, and Dean slammed his blood-crusted hand over the sigil he'd painted. The angel vanished with a bright flash of light, and thunder rumbled violently over their head as they took a moment to catch their breath. "Come on," said Dean after a moment, bolting for the nearest mansion door. Alex tore off after him with Sam on her heels, neither putting away their weapons.

As they barreled inside, storming for the room Castiel had instructed them to lay their trap in, Alex called to the Winchesters, "Do you think he'll suspect anything?"

"Not if Cas was right," called Dean over his shoulder, rounding a corner. They fell quiet, stifling their panting as they reached the designated room. They crept towards it, and despite her anger with Castiel, she desperately hoped that his determined thinking that Balthazar would return to help him was true. Friends, he'd told them. Balathzar and Castiel had been friends.

"-have to go shopping for a new vessel," a distinctly accented voice was saying as they finally reached the room Castiel had designated as the trap room. Alex blinked, recognizing her own country's accent in it. Interesting. "Should give me a nice long head start on him." Dean gestured for them to wait, and then slid swiftly into the room, lighter in hand. "Until next time."

"Until next time," echoed Castiel calmly, sounding out of breath himself.

"No time like the present," said Dean smugly, and Alex heard the whoosh of flame as his lighter clicked and struck the floor, alighting the circle of holy oil they'd laid along the biggest section of floor they could manage. Only when Balathazar had snapped at Dean, calling him a "hairless ape," did Alex and Sam join him, snorting under their breaths about the name calling.

Alex took just a moment to study Balthazar, and she could feel the intensity of his gaze when he suddenly studied her with startled interest in turn. The vessel he had chosen was older, although not old enough to have even a single gray hair, with dusty brown hair and sharp light-colored eyes. Had she not known better, she'd have said he was human. The way he held himself was entirely different from any other angel she'd seen.

A grin suddenly sprung to his face. "Alexandriana Montgomery," he mused, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "The Soldier. You were supposed to be locked up with all of Heaven's other weapons. But when I went looking, you were nowhere to be found. Barachiel's always been such a liar though, so I shouldn't have been so surprised."

Alex felt a little unnerved by that. She forced herself to keep her face neutral as she said, "Is that so? Well, I can't say that I'm disappointed by whatever happened." She had no idea what Balthazar meant, but she wasn't inclined to ask at the moment. "How about you do us all a bloody favor and release Aaron Birch's soul, Balthazar?"

"Unless," prompted Sam hastily, offering up a bottle of holy oil he'd stashed in his jacket, "you like your wings a little extra crispy."

Balthazar curled a lip at Sam and turned a sharp eye on Castiel. "I stood for you in Heaven. Are you going to let-"

"I believe," interrupted Castiel, much to Alex's surprise, "the hairless ape has the floor."

Balthazar simply laughed at his fellow angel's words and said, "Very well." He made a simple gesture. Alex thought it might have been the animal instincts that came with being a skinwalker, but she could have sworn she felt a shift in the world around her. "The boy's debt is cleared. His soul is his own."

"Why are you buying souls anyway?" demanded Dean with a hint of interest, gaze darting between Balthazar and Castiel.

"In this economy? It's probably the only thing worth buying. Do you have any idea what souls are worth - what power they hold?" Alex's eyes widened briefly and she snapped her head towards Castiel, staring harshly at him. He kept his gaze on Balthazar, refusing to look at her, and a growl tumbled from her throat. He was still doing what she'd warned him against then, the jerk! "Now...release me."

No one moved a finger, earning a dark look from Balthazar. Castiel finally put the flames out, and when Dean turned on him, Castiel ignored him in favor of informing Balthazar calmly, "My debt to you is clear."

"Cas," exploded Dean, and Alex kept quiet as Castiel briefly looked her way, meeting her gaze. She bared her teeth, showing that she comprehended fully what was going on there with the souls. Castiel merely furrowed his brow and then vanished.

Alex palmed her black blade and wondered if she really should have fought harder to drive it straight through Castiel's heart. If he was willing to torment children for his goal...for their once-shared goal...then maybe it would have been better.

From where she was leaning her hip against the side of the Impala, it took everything in Alex not to crack a smile at the way Dean was grumbling under his breath. He was shoving weaponry and various items around, trying to make room for all of Sam's things. Since it had been his car ruined during the scuffle between Castiel and the angel in their motel room, it had been an easy decision to join Dean in the Impala.

"You have a lot of stuff back there," she commented with a snicker, and it earned her an annoyed look. She pretended to be studying the nearby bubbling creek with mock fascination; they'd pulled over on the side of the road so Sam could shove all of his things in the back after Alex had complained about being stuck with it all, and she was pleased with the matter.

"I didn't know I had this much," he admitted, fishing around at the bottom and pulling out a mask of some sort. Alex wrinkled her nose at the wendigo face that stared back at them. Shockingly accurate for a mask. Supposing it was for Ben, Alex shoved away from the Impala to make room for Sam. He dropped his heavy duffel into the trunk, and when everything was set, Dean slammed the trunk shut.

Alex stretched her hands over her head, satisfied with the pop in her spine, and then rumbled, "Can you drop me off at the motel on your way through town?" she asked. "I need to grab my car and then head out. As much as Castiel pisses me off, he did heal my injury, which means I need to get back to work."

"Hunting him?" questioned Dean with a cocked brow. Sam's eyes lit with curiosity, darting between them, and Alex was relieved when Dean didn't bother to explain to him.

"No," she said honestly. Castiel could wait. She had someone else higher on her list than Castiel. "Someone else...I'm not sure who to go for now, since I lost almost a years' worth of work on one, so maybe I'll go after the other one." Barachiel. Barachiel would be a good one to go after. Not only would he be particularly fun to catch, but she'd be able to pry information about what Castiel was up to. From the sounds of it, he'd been interested in what they'd been up to, too. And he might know something about what Balthazar was up to or had said regarding the weapons of God.

Sure, she'd been told that the Soldier was the one to tip the scales and Gabriel's vessel...but it seemed like more than that now, and she was rather curious to hear more.

"C'mon Alex," prompted Dean with a frown. "Just come with us. We find everything anyway."

Alex debated for a moment, searching his gaze. It was tempting. She'd missed traveling and working with them. But…

She couldn't risk them finding out before she was ready. They didn't need to know the extent of who she and Castiel had been working with. No matter how much she wanted to tell him. Not Sam, who was acting so oddly in light of his return to the planet, but Dean, who was already aware of far more than she wanted him to know about. She desperately wanted him to know, to spill to someone who she knew would side with her in a heartbeat.

But that would drag him into an entirely different situation, and she'd promised not to tell anyone.

So, Alex smiled faintly, letting the sadness creep into her face, and refused.

"Sorry, Dean. Maybe next time."

An update at long last! Thank you as always for your patience!

I've been so excited for the confrontation between Alex and Cas. ;)

Thanks to reviewers (kcheslock, Savage Kill, Guest #1, and Trench gun!) as well as those who favorited and followed!