Desolation Comes Upon the Sky

Blade Runners

August 15th, 2014

Lebanon, Kansas

Alex pulled open the fridge, staring intently into its depths as she searched for a drink. The empty cardboard box of Mountain Dew sat in the back, and the ex-angel scowled in frustration. Three beers, some left over jerky, some of Sam's fruit, and a packet of raw ground beef was all that decorated the shelves; someone would have to make a run into town soon.

She shoved an apple into her mouth as she grabbed a beer, kicking the fridge door closed behind her as she walked out of the kitchen. The Winchesters were in the war room; Sam was seated at the large map-table, staring at his laptop, while Dean paced at his side. "Come on, Crowley," he snapped impatiently into his phone. "Pick up!" He looked over at his brother, a scowl on his face. "Where the hell is he? It's not like he's got a social life."

Sam looked up from his computer. "Uh, are you actually worried?" he half-teased, and Alex sank down into the chair beside him.

"So ..." she slowly began, "why exactly are we trying to contact the King of Hell?"

Dean frowned down at her, annoyance all across his face. "The guy's got one job. Find the First Blade, bring it back. How hard is that?"

Sam scoffed. "It's Crowley," he reminded, sharing an amused look with Alex. "He's not exactly a team player."

"Yeah, but his ass is on the line, too." Dean hung up and sat down across from his brother. "He goes missing for weeks on end without a peep? Well, not one that makes sense, anyways. Listen to this." He set his phone down on the table, and low mumblings came through the phone's speaker. Alex distinctly recognized the word "Dean," but anything past that had quickly dissolved into unintelligible ramblings.

"Wait a second." Sam looked over at his brother, his eyebrows arched high in surprise. "Did Crowley ... drunk-dial you?"

Dean rolled his eyes and dialed the King's number again. "Come on," he snapped into the phone. "Pick up." When he went to voicemail again, the Winchester looked over at Alex. "Well? Have you heard from him?"

"Me?" Alex snorted, cracking open her beer before she snapped her fingers in mock remembrance. "Oh, uh, now that you mention it, I haven't been getting my usual good morning texts. What do you think, dumbass?" She took a drink, rolling her eyes at the implications of Dean's pointed words.

"Listen," Sam jumped in, preemptively cutting off any ensuing bickering, "if we want answers, we know how to get them." He closed his laptop, ready to get up. "There's a crossroads just a few miles from here; someone's bound to know something."

"Yeah. Okay, fine." Dean shoved his phone into his pocket. "We got what we need in the trunk. You in, wingless?"

"Course." Alex brushed aside the stinging insult, choosing instead to focus on taking a large, careful bite of her apple. "Lead the way, asshat." She rose to her feet and grabbed her beer, motioning towards the stairs with the hand holding her fruit. "We're talking about the crossroads that's just down the ways a bit, yeah?" she asked Sam, her words muffled around her mouthful.

"Yup." Sam let Dean walk past him and make his way up the stairs before he dropped his voice to a murmur. "Listen, you don't have to let Dean under your skin like that —"

"He's not." Alex brushed the brother's sympathy off. "Don't worry about it. Whatever's bothering him, it's nothing I can't handle." She hurried up the stairs after Dean, leaving Sam to bring up the rear.

The air outside was slightly chilled, and Alex took another bite of her apple as she followed Dean over to the car. "We really need to figure out how to get that garage open," she mumbled as she stopped beside the backdoor. "I don't care how badly jammed it is; there's no way in hell I'm walking out here in winter."