Desolation Comes Upon the Sky

Captives

August 1st, 2014
Lebanon, Kansas

"Sam!"

Alex jerked awake at the yell, her eyes flying open in surprise. For a moment she was displaced, laying on a bed surrounded by concrete walls, and she scrambled to her feet as Sam's reply bounced off of the bunker walls. "Dean?"

"What the hell?" Alex pushed her way into the hallway, a hand coming up to brush back her messy blonde hair. "Sam?" she yelled. "Dean? What's wrong?" The sudden cry implied danger, but for the life of her she couldn't imagine what.

Sam appeared around the corner, confusion and concern etched into his long face. "Where's Dean?"

Alex shrugged, but before she could speak, the lights flickered. "What the hell?" Her grace stirred uneasily inside of her, and the young hunter felt her muscles tense as she looked around. "Dean!"

No answer came, and Alex followed Sam out into the library. One of the wooden chairs spun in a slow, even circle, and she shivered as a chill passed through the air. "Sam," she began, "something isn't right."

The Winchester lifted an iron sword off of its pegs. "Yeah, tell me about it. Dean!" He started towards another hallway, his weapon held firmly out in front of him, and Alex followed close at his heels. Her grace prickled, but it stubbornly stayed within the confines of her body, and the ex-angel shivered with unease.

Something moved in the corner of her eye, and Alex spun around to see a dark, swirling shape move through the air. Her mouth opened to cry out to Sam, but a shot drowned out her voice, and she squealed in surprise as rock salt tore into her cheek. The young hunter stumbled back, clutching her face as her head snapped towards the source of the gunfire. Sam stared blankly at where the apparition had vanished from, his mouth slightly agape. "So..."

"Yep." Dean cocked his shotgun, a frown set deeply into his face. "Bunker's haunted. Did I get ya?'

"Yeah." Alex pulled her hand away to reveal the blood on her fingers, and she scowled in disgust. "What the hell? I thought this place was warded to hell and back."

Sam crowded inwards, his hands coming up to examine her wound. "Come on. Let's get that cleaned up." He guided towards the kitchen with a hand on her shoulder, and Dean followed close behind.

"It is," he began, answering her previous question. "That's how I know nothing got in — there's no way it could have gotten through those sigils. So whoever's haunting us must have died here."

Alex scoffed at the idea as she sat down at the table, and Sam turned to look up at his brother, guarded curiosity on his face. "What, dead Men of Letters?"

"No, that doesn't track." Dean shook his head, and he handed Sam a wet washcloth from the sink. Alex winced as the younger Winchester pressed it against her face, and after a second she reached up to bat his hand away; she could hold it there herself. "I mean, we're the first people to occupy this place in fifty years. Why would a ghost wait so long to get its spook on?"

"Must have been a more recent death—"

"No." Dean cut his brother off, his tone sharp and pointed, and Sam paused in surprise.

"How can you be so sure?" he asked, and Alex pushed him away when he tried to peel back the washcloth to get a better look at the tear in her flesh.

"Because I burned his body myself, okay? It's not him." Dean crossed his arms, and Alex narrowed her eyes as she tried to remember who they were talking — ah yes. Kevin Tran. He had died here at the bunker. A wave of sadness passed over her, which further intensified as Sam's next words.