Desolation Comes Upon the Sky

Trial and Error

February 7th, 2014

Lebanon, Kansas

Alex stepped out of the Men of Letters shower room, her towel thrown haphazardly over her shoulder to keep her wet hair off of her — technically Dean's — faded Led Zeppelin t-shirt. She could hear Dean moving about in his room further down the hall, and she was so focused on listening to his footsteps that she jumped when Sam suddenly stepped out in front of her. "Hey," she greeted, shaking the surprise out of her wings. "Sorry."

"Yeah, uh —" Sam looked her up and down. "Are those my shorts?"

The angel glanced down at the black basketball shorts she was wearing and gave a small nod. "Dean stole mine," she defended with a shrug, and her bare toes wiggled on the cold, polished floor. "What was I supposed to do?" She tipped her head when she heard a thunk coming from Dean's room, and Sam walked off towards his brother. Alex followed, curious as to what Dean was actually doing.

"Wow," she heard Sam say as he leaned against the door frame, and Alex pushed past him to stand in the bedroom. "Not bad."

"Not bad?" Dean glanced back at the guns and weapons hanging on the far wall with a small grin. "I haven't had my own room. Ever. I'm making this awesome." He looked over at his desk where several records were on display. "I got my kickass vinyls, I've got this killer mattress." He dropped down on his bed as his grin widened. "Memory foam — it remembers me."

Alex rolled her eyes with a smile. They had all ordered new mattresses, new kitchen appliances, all kinds of those necessary home accessories. "It's nice," she agreed.

"And clean, too. There's no funky smell. No creepy motel stains." Dean watched as Sam pulled a stick of gum out of his pocket and tossed the wrapper towards the trash. It missed, and the Winchester looked up at his brother with a shake of his head, both offended and shocked. "Really?"

"Sorry." Sam's hands went up in self-defense, and Alex stepped back as Dean rose to his feet.

"I'm gonna fix us some grub," he told them, clearly annoyed as he left the room, and Sam bent over to pick up his trash.

"Dean really seems to like the idea of his own room." Alex watched him go as she turned back to Sam, who had stepped further into the bedroom to look around. The young angel did so as well, taking in the array of weapons and the carefully placed photos of the Winchester's childhood. "I think it'll do him some good," she finally admitted. "It's about time he had some personal space. I'm going to go get dressed," she announced when Sam let out a very quiet noise of agreement. "Catch you later."

She hurried down the hall to her own room, closing and locking the door behind her as she tossed her damp towel onto the bed. Her own walls lacked Dean's display of firearms, but she had arranged her most prized personal belongings around the room. The hunting journal Bobby had given her lay on the desk, pages opened to her drawing of a biembien, and small souvenirs and knick-knacks she had picked up along the way were laid out on it as well. Her first handgun was in the top drawer, and the knife Bobby had given her for her nineteenth birthday was laid delicately with its back to the wall.

She quickly changed into jeans and a grey v-neck before she laced up a pair of dark brown boots and pulled the hem of her pants down over them. She grabbed a black flannel from over her bed, and then she hurried out of the room. Her head tipped back as she sniffed the air — hamburger? Maybe Dean was making good on his promise of food.

The angel waltzed into the library and chucked her plaid over the back of one of the chairs. Sam was there, head bowed as his fingers danced across the typed pages. He looked up when she entered, and she grunted out a greeting as she peered at the books he had scattered about. "Hey. Anything interesting?"