Song Remains the Same

Chapter 18: Speak of the Devil

"Loss takes everything you love in an instant, yet gives you a lifetime of sorrow."
- Saim .A. Cheeda

The Next Day

Alex took another drag from her cigarette and blew, watching smoke flutter off into the cold midday air. It was quiet and overcast which didn't seem fitting. Where was the fire and brimstone, the devil and his forked tongue? Sitting on the hotel roof, she watched the city below. None of those people had any idea about what an utter shitstorm was headed their way. Must be nice. Her feet dangled off the edge of the building—about an eight-story drop. She took another drag. She felt queasy from low blood sugar. She hadn't eaten since yesterday at least, if not longer. She honestly couldn't remember.

It was hard to want to eat when you had failed to stop the devil from rising.

When she and Dean arrived at the convent, they had been too late to stop Sam. It was almost laughable how they had walked into the whole thing, how Ruby had used and tricked Sam—and yes, he had realized, but it had been too late. Alex remembered that final scuffle: she and Dean bursting into the room to see Sam and Ruby struggling and Lilith dead, her blood running onto the floor, spiraling into an ever-tightening circle. Dean and Sam killed Ruby as Alex dove to the ground in a desperate last-ditch effort to stop the blood from touching the centermost point of the helix with her bare hands. But it was too late. With no choice but to run, they ran, only to become trapped in the convent in the room where Lucifer's essence began to seep out of the hole opening up in the floor. The three Winchesters had clutched each other in terror, the brothers sandwiching their sister in a vain attempt to shield her from what was about to happen. It was the end, and they all knew it.

And then, suddenly, it wasn't. Without explanation they were safely in an airplane over the city, alive, well, and very confused. Add that little miracle to the list of unexplained phenomena.

But despite that miracle, not everything was right in the world. Castiel was gone. Alex stilled, her hand in midair, cigarette forgotten. When Chuck told them that the angel was dead... there had been this feeling like being hit in the gut with a hammer. All Alex could think was no with every part of who she was. Not Cas. He was supposed to survive. He was supposed to be invincible. He wasn't supposed to die for us. For me.

A silent tear spilled onto her cheek and slid down her face and she wiped it away angrily with the palm of her hand. He died in vain, and she would carry that with her for the rest of her life, adding him to the forever-lengthening tally of people who she'd lost. Caring about him had snuck up on her. She still didn't entirely get it. She thought of the wild hair and clear blue eyes, the glimpses of his true self behind the mask and brainwashing. The dream at the Tilt-A-Whirl tortured her, as did his confession yesterday that yes—he felt afraid. She wished she could have protected him better somehow. He had proved himself brave and selfless—and the cost was his life.

For the millionth time, she thought of his response to Chuck when the writer had protested "but you're not part of this story!"

For a minute there, when Castiel had told Chuck, "We're writing our own ending," Alex had looked at him and felt so much something that she wanted to burst. He'd made his choice. And now he was gone. Just gone. Why did practically everyone they met always die? Alex flicked her cigarette off the roof and again wiped her cheeks. Castiel would remain a mystery she would never unravel. Buried in her memories, he'd be a never-solved question mark.

Following the loss of their only angel ally, Sam wallowed in shame and hopelessness while Dean was too fed up to deal. That left Alex stuck in the middle, mourning her guardian angel and stressing over her brothers. She yearned to be someone else. Just a regular schmuck who had no idea about this supernatural Heaven and Hell crap. Every day the burden got heavier, and her back threatened to break. Every time she thought she knew how bad it could be, it got worse.