FicWad

Demember 15th, 2013

Chicago, Illinois

She was alone. The street was dark, lit only by the occasional streetlight, and snowflakes fell through the cold winter air, covering the ground. The young girl pulled her thin jacket tighter around her body, suppressing a shiver. She hated life, and she hated living like she did. They had fought again, and now she had been thrown out of the house for the night as punishment. She kicked at a loose stone, sending it clattering down the street. Stupid foster family. Like they gave a damn about her.

Suddenly there was light. A bright, blinding light that was gone as soon as it had appeared. Darkness surrounded the young girl as the ground vanished from beneath her feet, and the next thing she knew, she was falling.

She cried out in alarm, arms flailing desperately as the darkness parted, revealing quickly approaching ground. A dark road lay directly beneath her, and headlights of a single car could be seen speeding towards her. Before the girl could brace herself, it was beneath her. She hit the hood and rolled up the windshield, and then she was back in the air.

The air was forced from her lungs as she hit the pavement, and the world spun as her head cracked against the ground. She heard the car screech to a halt, and then there were voices of alarm, but they faded into the distance as blackness crashed over her, and the young girl spiraled into unconsciousness.

 

May 10th, 2008

Sioux Fall, South Dakota

Dean Winchester adjusted his grip on the steering wheel of his beloved Impala as he guided it around a bend in the road. His eyes flickered over to the mile marker that was caught the glare of his headlights, and he nodded as he caught a glimpse of a dilapidated barn through the darkness. Not even the moon was out to shed its light on the countryside, but familiarity had left the Winchester knowing every dip and turn in the well-traveled road.

There was stirring in the seat beside him, and a rarely seen smile graced the eldest Winchester’s lips as he cast his brother a sidelong glance. After three harrowing days, Sam was finally sleeping, driven to the point of pure exhaustion. Three days of fruitless chases and sleepless nights, and for the first time, he looked peaceful. Relaxed.

Dean turned his eyes back onto the road. He knew he didn’t have much time left until his deal was up, but something about Sam’s final admittance that there was nothing left to try — his yielding to the inevitable, even if it was only for the moment — it somehow had given Dean the strength to carry on. It wasn’t Sam’s job to worry about him, after all. Dean could take care of himself. But he couldn’t stand to see his brother in distress.

There was a flash of light in the sky, as bright as lightning, and Dean frowned. The sky was clear — he could see stars sparkling faintly in the night above. He squinted as something in the air moved, and he leaned forward as he tried to make it out.

Then his eyes snapped open wide. It was a human, and it was headed directly towards the car. Before he could react, it crashed into the hood and rolled up the windshield. Dean slammed on the brakes with both feet as the glass shattered under the impact, and the Impala screeched to a violent halt. His brother braced himself against the dashboard, crying out in confusion and alarm, and Dean gripped the steering wheel even tighter, his knuckles white as his heart raced within his chest. A glance in the rearview mirror showed the outline of a small, unmoving body in the glow of the taillights. “What the hell?!” he yelled, and he threw open the car door and got out.

“What the hell happened?” Sam did the same, and Dean could hear the panic in his voice as his eyes found the still, frail human in the road. “You hit someone?”

“No!” Dean snapped, his own terror making him furious and defensive. “He — she — they fell from the sky!” He hurried over to the body of a young female, and he dropped down in front of her. He gently rolled her over to look at her face, and his hair stood on end as the girl stirred ever so slightly. Green eyes went wide as he looked up at his brother. “Dude, she shouldn’t be conscious,” he insisted, voice hoarse with disbelief as Sam joined him on the ground. “She fucking fell onto my car!”

 

Someone was yelling. Their voice rattled her bones, and the young girl let out a high-pitched whine as she was dragged from unconsciousness. She forced her eyes open to find two men leaning over her, their faces a mixture of confusion and pure panic. She blinked, and their features became clearer. And familiar. “W-What?” The girl’s eyes fell closed, and she did a mental check of her fingers and toes. They flexed under her command without any extreme pain, but her bones ached in a way she didn’t even think possible.

“Hey. Hey. Stay with me. Are you okay?” The voices were familiar too. Memories were slowly returning, trickling in at first and growing exponentially until they were rushing back into her mind like a tidal wave. “Hey!” The voice was still there. “What’s your name? Can you talk?”

The girl reopened her eyes. She knew those faces. “Uh … Alex.” Her voice caught in her throat, and the word came out more ragged and dry than she had anticipated. She stared up at the two, searching through her scrambled mind to try and place them. Who were they?

“Alex. Okay, okay. Good.” The speaker looked over at his companion, and he reached up to run a hand through his shaggy brown hair. “A-Are you okay?”

The faces snapped into place. “W-What?” Alex’s mouth went dry, and her grey eyes went wide as she looked between the two men.

“I said are you okay?” the man repeated, and hazel eyes sparkled in concern.

“Yeah, I-I heard you the first time.” Alex struggled to sit up despite the protest of her body, and she felt herself sway as the world around her spun. Hands on her shoulder steadied her, and the girl closed her eyes until the vertigo passed. “I’m fine,” she finally said, reaching up to push away the support. “Just … just a little sore, that’s all.”

She looked up to see that the two men were exchanging looks, a silent conversation passing between them in a matter of mere seconds, and she took the time to scrutinize the one on her left. Short, spiky brown hair, green eyes that were dark and guarded. He was wearing a army green jacket over a black t-shirt, and the collar was worn from years of use. She didn’t realize that she was staring until he cleared his throat. “What?”

“N-Nothing. Sorry.” Alex shook her head to clear her thoughts, and she immediately grimaced at the pain it brought. “You … you just look … familiar. Really familiar.”

The two exchanged looks once again. “From …?” the green-eyed one finally asked, and he let out a short burst of nervous laughter. “If it’s from the news, I can explain —”

“No, no.” Alex cut him off. “No, not from the news. From …” She narrowed her eyes, wanting to be sure. “From tv. You look like two actors from tv.” She carefully watched the two’s reaction. What were their names? Jared and Jensen? Alex’s gaze darted between the two — which one was which she could never keep straight.

“Oh.” Her answer surely seemed confusing, but there was relief in their eyes. “No, we’re not from tv.” The man pointed to himself. “My name is Dean, by the way. This is my brother, Sam.”

Alex stared up at him, and she snapped her jaw shut when she realized it was hanging open. “Winchester?” she finally asked, and she watched as the brothers’ eyes flashed with varying degrees of bewilderment and distrust. A sudden wave of nausea overtook her, and she fell back onto the ground, grunting in pain.

There was a rustling of clothing as Dean shifted warily. “You’ve heard of us?”

“In a way.” The young girl watched as her vision swam, and she threw her arm over her eyes to block out the bright taillights. This was a dream. Of course — that’s what this was. Just some weird, unnatural nightmare. “You — you’re not real.” She let out a soft laugh, and the pain slowly began to subside as adrenaline took hold. “This isn’t real.”

“Why don’t you just tell us how you know who we are?” she heard Dean press, and his question was followed by a sharp slap. “Ow!”

“Dude, who cares?” Sam retorted. “Let’s just get her help, okay?” Dean started to protest, but Sam immediately cut him off. “You just hit her with your damn car, Dean. She needs help —”

“Is your dad dead?” Alex’s question had Sam falling immediately silent, and she smiled but refused to move her arm away from her eyes. She could still feel the world spinning around her, and she drew her legs up so they were bent as a warm, fuzzy feeling swept over her. /Shock, probably/, a little voice in the back of her mind insisted, but she ignored it.

Sam was the first to speak, and when he did, his voice was stiff. “How do you know about our dad?”

Alex chuckled again as that fuzzy feeling took hold. “This is a stupid dream,” she chided. “You look so tiny. You’re just babies still.” She threw off her arm so she could see. “Is he dead?” She lifted her head when neither answered, and she looked into Dean’s wary gaze. “Uh, he was killed by what’s-his-face — Yellow-Eyes? Azazel.” She snapped her fingers as the name came back to her. “How long ago?”

“How do you know?” Dean demanded. “Who are you?”

Alex opened her mouth to answer, but her attention was immediately drawn over to the Impala. “Pretty car,” she murmured before she blinked sharply, yanking herself out of her thoughts. “I — sorry.” A hand came up to touch her throbbing head.

“You’ve got a concussion,” Sam explained, and he turned to his brother. “Let’s get her to Bobby.”

“Not until she explains how the hell she knows about Dad,” Dean Winchester retorted, and he flinched as Sam once again smacked him on the shoulder. “Ow! Stop it!”

“Bobby.” Alex tipped her head thoughtfully. “I like Bobby. He’s grumpy.” She let her head fall back onto the cold pavement and let out a groan. “Grumpy Bobby.”

“Come on.” The ground disappeared from beneath her as hands lifted her into a chest, and Alex leaned into the warmth with another groan. “Let’s get you in the car.”

The warm rush of adrenaline was beginning to fade, and with it came pain and a sharp sense of clarity. “This isn’t real,” she murmured into the jacket. “You guys know you can’t exist, right? This is a joke.”

“Some joke,” Dean scoffed, and Alex heard one of the Impala doors open. “You fell out of the damn air and onto my car.”

“I … I remember that.” With the help of Sam, Alex slid onto the black leather of the backseat. “I landed on the car.” She grimaced at the memory, and pulled in her legs when Sam closed the door behind her. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a train,” she muttered as the two brothers climbed into the front seat.

“You fell from fucking /sky/,” Dean repeated sharply. “You shouldn’t be moving. Hell, you shouldn’t be alive from a fall like that.” The engine purred to life, and Alex curled up in the back as the world began to spin once again. “Hold on,” she heard Dean tell her. “We’re only twenty minutes away.” He pushed down on the gas, and the car accelerated, tearing down the dark road. Darkness clouded her vision, and despite Dean’s persistent questions, she let it take over, and the young girl blacked out.

 

She was woken by sunlight. Alex rolled over with a groan, and her actions elicited an even louder groan to find her body stiffer than a board. Everything ached, and she grit her teeth in surprise until she grew accustomed to the deep, dull pain. Memories followed the pain, memories of last night —

Alex snapped open her eyes. Last night. Where was she? The room was unfamiliar, and she jumped out of the large bed. Her legs immediately buckled from underneath her, and the young girl fell onto the wooden floor with a loud thud. She tried again, and this time she was able to stand on shaky legs. “Are you okay?” A voice had Alex looking up to find Dean Winchester standing in the doorway.

“What?” She stared up into his face, mouth once again hanging open. “Y-You’re still here?”

“Uh, yeah.” Dean shifted his beer bottle to his other hand as he studied her. “That’s kind of how this thing works —”

“No, no, that — that’s not what I meant.” Alex sat down on the bed. “I … I just — I thought I hallucinated last night. I mean, hallucinated you and Sam …” She looked down, curious about a particularly sharp pain on her forearm, and she frowned at the crude bandage. “This …?” She ripped it off to find a small cut.

“Sorry about that.” Dean shrugged unapologetically, a direct contrast to his statement, and Alex’s frown deepened. “Just had to check to see if you were a shifter.”

“Well, I’m not.” The girl reached up to touch her head, wincing to find a rather large bump on the back of her skull. “Where are we?”

“Bobby’s.” The Winchester lips pursed together. “Listen, you hit your head pretty hard. Maybe you should lie back down, okay? You were saying some pretty weird stuff last night.”

“About your father?” Alex finished. “Yeah, I, uh, I remember.” She slowly rose back to her feet and took a shaky step towards Dean. “How long ago was that?”

“Why does it matter?” Dean retorted, and he stepped out into the hall. “You still haven’t explained who you are.”

Alex chose to ignore his last statement, and she followed him through the hallway and down the stairs. “It matters because,” she began, “if you’re Dean Winchester, you sold your soul about a year after that to save your brother. Which means you’d only had one year left to live—”

She was cut off when the wall suddenly collided with her back, and the young girl let out a cry of pain as Dean pinned her down with his arm. “How the hell do you know that?” he snapped.

“I know that because you can’t be real!” Alex fruitlessly tried to shove the hunter away, but he didn’t budge. “You can’t be real!” she repeated insistently.

Dean pressed her harder into the wall. “Does that feel real?” he demanded, and Alex gasped for breath as her breath was crushed out of her lungs.

Suddenly Dean was pulled away, and the young girl drew in a loud, deep gasp. “What the hell, Dean!” Sam shoved his brother away, and he positioned himself in front of Alex. “What are you doing?”

“She knows, Sam.” Dean straightened his jacket, and sharp green eyes sought out Alex. “She knows about the deal I made! No one knows about that except demons.”

“I’m not a demon!” Alex yelled.

“She’s not a demon,” Sam insisted simultaneously. “We tested her, remember? She’s clean.” He glanced back at Alex, and the girl pressed herself into the wall. “I don’t know how she knows any of this,” he said, “but why don’t we just try asking her, okay?”

Dean stalked away, and Alex rolled her shoulders back, lifting up her chin as she followed Sam into the study. A man sat at a desk, his nose buried in a book that looked identical to the rest of the books that lay piled around him. He was dressed in a ragged plaid shirt over a worn green t-shirt, and a old, dirty green and white cap sat upon his head. “Bobby, right?” she asked. “Hey.”

The man looked up, and Alex narrowed her eyes at the immediate distrust in his gaze. “Excuse me?”

“I-I said hey.” Alex glanced down at the open books. “That a, uh, that’s a lot of reading. What are you looking for?”

“Demons.” Dean leaned up against the wall, and Sam walked over to sit down on the old couch.

“Demons?” Alex repeated. Her head tipped, remembering Dean’s defensiveness, and she took a gamble to ask, “Lilith?”

Her question caught Bobby’s attention, and he leaned back in his seat. “You know her?” he asked warily, and Alex sank down into a chair across from the desk.

“Kinda.” Her lips twisted into a frown. “I — not personally, though. I know of her.” She studied the old hunter in front of her. He really did look like Bobby Singer. How was that possible?

“She’s somewhere in Indiana,” Sam explained from the couch, and Alex turned to look at him, thankful that at least someone was willing to give her answers. Her thankfulness, of course, was short lived. “How do you know so much?” he asked, but, sensing Alex’s displeasure, added, “You seem to know a lot.”

“I don’t know. Well, I do know,” the girl quickly backtracked. “But … you guys shouldn’t be real. Just saying.” She drew her legs up onto the chair so she was sitting crosslegged, trying to play it cool even though she could feel her cheeks flushing under three intense stares. “I just don’t know what to think right now.”

“How about start with the fact that we’re real.” Dean crossed his arms, and Alex looked between the three hunters that sat around her.

Their gazes didn’t let up, and the girl let out a forced laugh. “So you guys are Sam and Dean Winchester? For real?” When the two brothers nodded, she laughed again. “Okay, okay, I’ll play along. Right. Winchesters. You guys are from a tv show. /Supernatural/, it’s called. Judging by the Dean’s deal with Lilith and the length of Sammy’s hair —“ She ignored Sam’s noise of indignation “—I’d say this is somewhere around the end of season three.”

The hunters were silent. It was Dean who finally broke the tension. “Okay then. That’s not creepy or impossible at all.” He pushed himself off of the wall and approached, and Alex lifted up her chin. “So this show. Is it right? About all of this that’s going on?”

“From what you’ve told me so far, it’s accurate.” Alex held Dean’s gaze, and then she rolled her eyes with a sigh. “Seriously. Can we just cut the crap, guys? I know this is a joke. Some sick, twisted joke.” She looked around, but the blank looks that greeted her said enough. The girl dropped her head into her hands. Maybe she was in a coma — that could cause weird dreams, right? “Do you have some aspirin?” she finally asked. “My head’s sort of burning.”

Dean nodded and stepped into the kitchen, disappearing from her line of sight. “So how are you even alive?” Bobby asked, and his voice drew her attention onto him. “The way I understand it, you fell from the sky onto a car. Most people would be dead, not walking around complaining of a headache.”

Alex shrugged. “I honestly have no idea,” she admitted. “All I remember … I was walking down the street. Then there was a flash of white light, and then I’m falling onto the Impala.” Dean returned with a glass of water and an aspirin bottle, and Alex accepted it graciously. “Thank you.” She popped off the lid and swallowed two tablets along with some of the water. She looked over to see that Bobby was staring at her, and she set her glass down on her lap. “What?”

“Nothing. But you ain’t hurt at all. No broken bones, nada. You’ve only got a few bruises and a concussion from when you bashed your head against the ground. Oh, and that cut about your eye there.”

Alex reached up to feel above her left eye, fingers tracing the stitches. She winced at the pain, and her hand fell back down to her lap. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, everything hurts.” She put the glass down onto the desk as she shifted to rest her feet back on the ground. “So, how long was I out?”

It was Sam who answered. “About eight hours. We weren’t expecting you to wake up for another six or so.”

“Huh.” Alex reached up to rub the muscles in her sore neck, and she immediately froze. Panic, hot and sharp, pulsed through her, and she ran her fingers across her neck. “Where is it?” she suddenly asked, and her eyes widened as she turned to Sam.

The Winchester’s hazel eyes sparkled in confusion. “Where is what?” he repeated.

“My necklace.” The panic was growing, and Alex ran a hand across her sternum, but it was gone. “Where is it?”

“Relax.” Dean stepped up from behind her, a silver chain hanging from his fingertips. “It’s right here. It came off when you hit the car. I found it on the road next to you.”

Alex snatched it out of his hands, and she ran the chain through her thin fingers. The silver angel wing pennant was still there, and she closed her fingers tightly around it as she let out a sigh of relief. Thank God.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just … really important to me.” Alex slipped the necklace back over her head and tucked it beneath her grey t-shirt before she watched Sam pick up his laptop. “So with this Lilith thing — have you figured out where in Indiana?”

The Winchester let out a curt nod. “Yeah, some place called New Harmony.”

Alex hummed, unfamiliar with the location, and Dean turned to look down at her. “So this show of yours,” he began. “How much do you know about it?”

“How much?” Alex repeated, and she pulled a thoughtful face. “I’d say a good amount. I mean, I’ve only seen the episodes once, so I can’t say I remember that much detail. Just the big stuff, you know? Plot points, monsters, maybe some funny stuff here and there.” She looked Dean up and down before adding, “I always got the impression that you’d be a lot nicer. You know, a lot less likely to throw me into a wall. You’re about what I expected, though,” she added to Bobby.

The grumpy old hunter harrumphed. “And what about hunting?” he asked, choosing to ignore her offhanded comment. “You know much about that?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah, I’d say so,” she agreed, and she looked around the room. Bobby’s study. It looked pretty much like she had imagined; dark and cluttered, with the smell of old pages and alcohol. “I mean, I know enough.”

“Okay. So then how do you kill a vamp?”

Alex snorted; that one was easy. “Decapitation,” she recited.

“Spirit?”

“Burn the bones.”

“Or …?”

“Or whatever it’s attached to,” she finished. “Because sometimes there isn’t a body left to burn.”

“Demon?” Dean piped up, and Alex cast him a sidelong glance.

“To kill one?” she inquired. “Demon knife, the Colt, touch of an —” Alex immediately snapped her mouth shut, cutting herself off from giving away information the hunters before her had supposedly yet to learn. “No, not quite yet.”

“Touch of a what?” Sam repeated.

“The touch of a nothing-you-should-know-about,” Alex retorted stubbornly, arrogance masking her fear. “You say Dean’s still got time before his deal’s up, that means you don’t know about it yet. You ever heard of the butterfly effect? Because that’s what this is.”

“Hey.” The youngest Winchester’s eyes flashed. “I am trying to save my brother’s life here.”

“Dean can take care of himself!” Alex shot back, and she crossed her arms across her chest.

“Hey, hold on.” Dean stepped in between the two of them, arms outstretched to keep the peace. “Just relax, alright?”

Sam got up and stalked off into the kitchen, and Dean followed. “I am trying to save your ass, Dean,” Alex heard the Winchester protest quietly, and the young girl fidgeted in her seat.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean whispered back. “But yelling at her won’t do you any good. She’s not going to talk if you scare her.” Upon hearing that, Alex let out a huff, and she heard Dean sigh. “Let me talk to her. I’m good with kids.”

“I’m not a kid,” Alex muttered under her breath, and she slung one arm over the back of the chair as the two brothers returned.

A easygoing smile was plastered across Dean’s face, and he pulled up a nearby chair and straddled it, resting his forearms across the back as he cleared his throat. “So, uh, Alex — that’s your real name right?”

Alex frowned at the strange question. “Real enough,” she retorted.

Sam let out a barely disguised snort of amusement as he took up his seat on the couch, and Alex watched how Bobby leaned back in his seat, watching the two of them carefully. Dean ignored them. “Uh, okay, then, /Alex/. Listen. I need to know how to kill Lilith.”

Alex tipped her head in false innocence. “I already gaze you two ways,” she reminded calmly.

“Yeah, but you started to give a third,” the Winchester persisted, and Alex could hear the impatience that strained at his voice. “What can touch a demon and kill it?”

“Well, not just demons.” Alex leaned back in her chair, eyes finding the ceiling as she thought. “It can pretty much kill anything that it wants. It’s pretty powerful, after all.”

“Okay, but I need a name.”

“You’re not getting a name.” Alex tipped her head back down so she could look Dean in the eyes. “Like I said, man. Butterfly effect. If by some small, impossible chance that this is all real, I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to tell you.”

“I’m going to die!” The Winchester’s voice grew sharp. “I think that’s a pretty damn good reason to tell.”

“Dean. The show goes on past the end of this season,” Alex reminded, her voice suddenly growing soft and quiet. “You don’t need what I’m not supposed to name. This isn’t the end. Speaking of,” she added in a much louder tone, “what’s the date today?”

“Uh, May 8th,” Sam relayed.

“Year?”

“Why?”

“Because. Here’s the thing.” Alex leaned forward in her chair, and her grey eyes sparkled with true curiosity. “Like I said, right now we’re nearing the end of season three, right? But I already know what’s going on. The show I was watching was in the middle of season eight, confirmed for at least another few seasons after that. So either this universe is off, or …”

“Or this is a different year,” Sam finished.

“Yahtzee.” Alex flashed him a small grin. “So, what’s the year?”

“2008.”

“Ah. So back in time it is.” Alex straightened back up in her chair with a slow nod. “Awesome. Nothing quite like reliving the twenty first century, am I right?”

When neither Winchester immediately responded, Bobby Singer took the initiative. “So, when exactly are you from?” he asked.

“2013?” Alex nodded. “Yeah, that sound right. I’m from the year 2013.”