Desolation Comes Upon the Sky

Everybody Hates Hitler

February 2nd, 2014

Lebanon, Kansas

The scuffle of tennis shoes squeaked on the polished wooden floor, almost completely muffled by the echoing thud of a bouncing basketball. Alex dropped down low onto the balls of her feet, shoulders hunched and one hand extended, palm up, ready to flick the ball away from Dean's grasp. The hunter faked to the right, and the angel reacted immediately, ducking to after him and then immediately back to the left when Dean moved backwards and up, sending the ball curving through the air and into the basket.

"That's not fair," the angel protested, only half-joking. "You're like a foot taller than me." She hurried to retrieve the ball — no longer flat thanks to the pump she had found in the back of the Impala. "Give the little person a break, huh?"

"You'll get a break when I get ahead," Dean huffed as they switched places, green eyes darting across her face as Alex paced along the three-point line.

The angel shook her head in ill-amusement as she squared up with the Winchester, fingertips controlling the ball as she gauged the distance between herself and the basket. She stepped back, putting some room between her and the hunter, and then she moved. She shifted the ball over to her right hand as she slipped past Dean, returning it to her left hand in time for a well-timed layup. She heard the ball bounce around the rim before falling through the net. "That one still gets ya, huh?" she joked. "It's so ... simple." Dean retrieved the ball with a low grumble, and the angel grinned. "If it makes you feel any better, that one fooled some of the girls on my basketball team back in middle school. And one or two when I played varsity. No one expects a lefty to go right."

"You played in high school?"

"Yeah, for two years. Then, uh ... well, then my foster parents died, and I got moved to Chicago. I was offered an opportunity to play, but my new family said I couldn't." Alex held out her hands, and Dean tossed the ball to her. "I wasn't good, but I loved the sport. Still do." She brought the ball up above her head and let it go, watching as it curved in a high arc only to bounce off of the far rim and roll over. "Defense was always my best though. I'm quick and tiny." Dean's phone rang, and both looked up. "I think I'm going to go shower," she decided when the hunter moved two answer it. "Ready to call it?"

Dean grabbed his shirt off of the floor and nodded. "I guess. We can call it a draw." He pulled on his shirt and grabbed his phone as he walked off towards the door. Alex put the ball away and followed.

They had been at the bunker for almost twenty days, but Alex hadn't ever wanted to leave. Most of the bunker's appliances, though old, functioned just as well as their state-of-the-art counterparts, and the most expensive thing Dean had bought was a mini-fridge that was now located in the room Sam had dubbed 'the library.' Alex herself had gone out and gotten herself new sheets and pillows, and she had set up her books and personal possessions on the desk and dresser in her room. Her own, personal room.

She descended the stairs and entered the library to find Sam seated at the table, his laptop in front of him. "Yo," she called, running a hand through her sweaty hair. "Did you get the wifi up and running again?"

"Uh, yeah." Sam looked up from whatever he was doing. "For the most part, I think. It's still pretty spotty downstairs. Where's Dean at?"

"He got a call from Garth, I think. Probably just a routine check in." She glanced over her shoulder as Dean entered the room. "How's Kevin doing?" she asked.

"You know," the hunter shrugged. "He's okay, I guess. In the corner, hacking out his Da Vinci code — nothing actionable yet." He took a beer out of the mini fridge and cracked it open. "Garth says hi, by the way." The hunter paused as he looked between Sam and Alex. "Uh ... you guys haven't heard anything from Cas, have you? He's not answering."