Hollowing Souls

Unforgiven

She found Sam wandering among the cars. "Sam?" Alex approached quietly, wings folded forward in worry. "We need to talk."

"Can we not?" Sam's voice was flat, and Alex frowned. "I really don't want to."

"It's not your fault."

Sam stopped in his tracks, and his shoulders fell. "I remember it all, you know. Everything he did."

Alex winced, but forced herself to keep moving forward. She circled around to stand in front of Sam, watching as he slightly turned away. "It wasn't you. I don't blame you, Sam. Look at me." She waited until Sam looked up. "It's fine; I'm over it."

"No, you don't understand." Anger danced in the hunter's gaze. "I remember everything Lucifer did. I felt it just like he did, I remember feeling every damn thing he said leave my tongue."

"It wasn't you," Alex repeated.

"Yeah, it was. It felt like I was saying those words, like I was hurt you, held you. It felt like I killed Cas, and Bobby, and beat Dean within an inch of his life!" Sam turned away, muscles tense and fists clenched. "And now I . . . I can't even look at you without feeling guilty."

Alex stepped up beside him. "I'm sorry." She sighed, eyes falling closed. "I'll do whatever you need to help, though. I don't want things to be awkward between us."

"Yeah." Sam turned slightly to study her. "But . . . you seriously don't have a problem with me — with what I did?"

Alex shrugged. "I've been through a lot of shit. Trust me. What y — What Lucifer did, it wasn't that bad. I, uh, I guess I've made peace with him, okay?" Seeing Sam's expression, she dipped her head, embarrassed. "It's complicated."

Their conversation was cut short when Dean approached. "Sam?" he called, searching for his brother.

"We're over here." Alex waved him down, watching as Sam turned away from her once again.

"Come on. We're heading out. Bobby's gonna keep working on this whole 'Mother of all' thing." Dean looked over at Alex. "You in?"

"Yeah. Sure." Alex watched Sam for any of discomfort before agreeing. "Sounds good."

...

Three days ticked by. Currently, they were holed up in a motel two hours west of Cincinnati. Alex was laying across a large bed, tossing a tennis ball against the far wall. Sam sat on the bed next to her, intently watching the news. Alex barely listened; she had little interest in the world's petty problems.

The door opened, and Dean walked through. "What are you watching?"

"Just trying to catch up." Sam turned off the tv and tossed the remote next to Alex. She flinched as it landed by her head, almost missing the ball. "So . . ." Sam continued. "Mel Gibson really took a turn this past year, huh?"

"Or he's possessed," Dean joked. "Seriously. Think about it." He tossed his brother what looked like a hot pocket wrapped in paper food wrap. "So, I just got off the blower with Bobby." Another hot pocket landed beside Alex, and she sat up, unwrapping it with a frown.

"Oh yeah? You got anything else on this whole 'Mother of all' thing?"

"Um, no. Nothing solid. He says it's quiet."

Sam's phone dinged, and the hunter stood up. "Quiet like 'quiet,' or quiet like 'too quiet'?" he asked, walked over to his bag which lay beside the young angel.

"When is it ever just quiet?"

"Right." Sam pulled out his cell phone and frowned. "Hmm."

Dean looked up from where he was unwrapping his own meal. "What?" In response, Sam tossed him his phone, and Dean looked down at the screen. "What, are those coordinates?" He looked up at his brother. "Who's it from?"