Hollowing Souls

My Heart Will Go On

December 21st, 2011

Alex sat on the study's couch, legs folded beneath her, gaze focused on the study. She bit her lip in frustration as Bobby Singer finished off yet another bottle of whiskey.

"Say something." Sam's whisper had her turning her attention to the two Winchesters who were both leaning against the wall to her left.

"No, you," Dean mouthed back, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"No," Sam insisted. "You."

She watched in amusement as the Dean held up a fist. Sam hesitated, shaking his head, but when Bobby opened up another bottle, he held out his fist as well. One two three. Shoot. Dean with the scissors, Sam with the paper. Typical. Sam stared at his brother's hand as he processed what exactly had happened before looking over at Alex. She shrugged, not willing to get in the middle of that. Instead, she just shot him a thumbs up.

"Uh . . ."

"You two just gonna stand there like the ugly girl at the prom, or are you gonna pitch in?" Bobby finally asked, and Alex stifled a laugh when the brothers exchanged surprised looks. "This so-called Eve, mother of whatever, ain't gonna gank herself." When nobody moved, he looked up. "What's wrong with you?"

"Bobby," Dean began, "you haven't slept in days."

"I sleep," the hunter defended crossly. "What are you, my wife now?" He looked back down at his books.

"I'm just saying, that, you know, taking five might be a good thing," the Winchester put as politely as he could.

Bobby, however, just scoffed. "For whom?"

"Look, Bobby it — it was tough for all of us, seeing Rufus go like that." Sam approached, but stopped after only a few steps, glancing over at Alex.

"You think this —?" Bobby firmly shook his head. "This ain't about Rufus."

"Bobby, he wasn't just a poker buddy."

"You know when I knew Rufus was done for? The day I met him. The only question was who first — him or me? Now, you want to stand there and therapise, or you want to get me some coffee?" He returned his gaze to his books. "Make it Irish."

Alex watched as Dean threw up his hands in surrender, and he and Sam walked into the kitchen. Alex took the chance to stand up and walk over to the old hunter.

"What do you want?" he huffed, looking up. "If you're gonna say a dam thing about —"

"Need any help?" Alex asked instead, pulling up a chair. "Two eyes are better than one — uh. Wait —"

"No thanks."

The girl stopped what she was doing, staring at him. "Excuse me?"

"If this is something your boyfriend put you up to . . ."

Alex pushed the chair back into place. "Fine. You know what? Fine. I was just trying to help." She stalked out of the room.

"—there's a job," Sam was saying as Alex pulled herself up onto the counter next to him.

"Ooh, really?" Dean looked interested. "What you got?"

Sam pulled a newspaper article out out of his jacket pocket. "Look. Chester, Pennsylvania. Three people got kicked off in the last week, all freaky. Last guy got karate chopped by his garage door. And all of these are blood relatives."

Dean quickly scanned the paper, interest growing. "What are you thinking, family curse?"

"Could be."