Song Remains the Same

Chapter 143: O Brother Where Art Thou

"My ship isn't coming and I just can't pretend."
— Rush

Being the dead night, all was relatively quiet in the bunker. In the corner of the library that was slowly evolving into a living room type of arrangement, the old TV set was still on. The movie playing washed the dim space with flickering light as low audio droned. Two people sprawled on the long upholstered couch, each with their similar brunette heads resting on the opposite end as four shoe-clad feet piled up in a sleepy tangle at the midsection.

Sam had dozed off hours ago, but Alex was still wide awake. The pregnancy insomnia she'd read about had hit her out of the blue two days ago, and baby boy was on day three of wiggling around in utero for hours on end (mostly at night). It felt like all of her organs were being rearranged as he somersaulted, kicked, and squirmed around with so much gusto it was like he was at a rave. Adding to that the consistent Braxton Hicks contractions, and Alex was resigned to long days and nights of feeling exhausted and being irritable. But the tiredness wasn't the only reason for her increasingly low mood.

It had been eight days since she'd seen Cas in person.

Nine days since hearing from Dean whatsoever.

And there were between sixty or so days left until this baby was born (by her best calculations).

Those stressful numbers left a constant prayer on her mind and heart: Please hurry back, Cas. And always following that silent plea was this one: Dean, where are you?

Alex shifted down, trying to find something a little more comfortable as her hands went where they so often did: to the rounded taut belly that was definitely noticeable at this point. Staring blankly at the all too familiar scenes of the 1986 movie Big Trouble in Little China, Alex unavoidably found herself ruminating over the absence of her oldest brother. It was probably the pregnancy hormones, but Alex had found herself given over to constant nostalgia and reflection... and Dean was of course one of the centermost points of that wistfulness. After all, he was her childhood—him and Sam, Dad, the car, shitty motels, the wide open road—all foundational characters who made up the fabric of her biography. The only one of those characters present right now was Sam. And Alex ached.

"We really shook the pillars of heaven, didn't we, Wang?"

"No horseshit, Jack."

"No horseshit."

This movie in all of its campy, stupid glory was one of Dean's favorites. And Alex's sore, tired eyes blinked against abrupt tears as she pined deeply for her best friend. Not just for his presence, but for the way things used to be.

The fire of anger had faded in the time since Dean's volatile exit. Now, grief was the dominant emotion—and it was so heavy Alex sometimes thought she'd be crushed underneath the weight. There was something like homesickness in the deepest cavern of her chest, and nothing made it better. Every day that passed, the feeling intensified, taking her by surprise at how often it crept up out of nowhere. But after all, everywhere she looked, there were reminders of her vanished brother: his deserted room across the hall, the missing Impala, his belongings scattered throughout the bunker. She saw every empty space that he should have been in and heard every lonely silence in conversations that his insightful wisecrack or dry, inappropriate joke should have filled. Even the sight of Sam by himself with no shorter brawnier brother standing in contrast was painful at times.

Alex had been without Dean before, of course. But never quite like this.

It was hypocritical to feel how she did, because she and Sam had basically told him to get lost and stay gone. But the fact that he actually was staying gone... well, it felt wrong to say the least. Dean wasn't one to respect boundaries, especially when it came to family. He did what he wanted and what he thought was best, not what others asked him to do. So it didn't fit, and left Alex surprisingly uneasy and theorizing madly. Did he really, actually think he shouldn't be with his family? Had some invisible frayed thread finally snapped beyond repair here nine days ago when they told him to scram? Alex couldn't fathom that being the case, so her mind went into more foul directions: Was he even okay? Had something bad happened to him?