Mercy Be Revealed - Part Three

[jacyevans]

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Part Three

Alexis guns her car down the interstate, the trees on the side of the road nothing but a blur. She weaves easily in and out of cars, slowing down just long enough to avoid the traffic cops on the side of the road.

"You should have let me drive," Sam says shortly, and Alexis bites her lip to keep from screaming. "You're going too slow."

Alexis glances at her speedometer. "We're pushing ninety."

"Go faster."

"Will you stop backseat driving?" she snaps, hands clenching around the steering wheel. She takes a deep breath to center herself then drags the car onto the shoulder, jolting Sam forward in his seat. She may not be a graceful loser, but this is one argument she doesn't have the patience to keep fighting. She gets out of the car, slamming her door forcefully, tossing Sam the keys as he practically sprints around the front in his haste to get to the driver's seat.

"If you wreck my car, I will kick your ass," she says shortly.

Now that she doesn't have the highway to distract her, Alexis' leg shakes, her anxiety mounting. Anything anyone you love has ever loved. Her father, her grandmother, Detective Beckett, hell even Esposito and Ryan, the annoying bastards... They're all sitting on top of a ticking time bomb, and she has no way to warn them. She considers calling her father or Beckett, but what would she say? Get out of town because Lucifer is coming to kill you?

Yeah, that would go over really well.

Of course, they hit traffic just outside of New Jersey.

Sam slams his hand on the wheel, jolting Alexis from her thoughts.

"Hey, stop beating up my car; she's sensitive," Alexis attempts to joke, voice hoarse with worry. Sam clenches his eyes shut, fingers clamping tight on the steering wheel.

"Damn it," he hisses, and she sighs, leaning her head back against the seat. "I hate driving in New York. Hate it."

"We're not in New York; we're in Jersey. Welcome to the Tri-state area." Sam shoots her a withering glare. He clearly doesn't appreciate her brand of sarcasm at the moment. She pushes herself to a more upright position and gestures to the driver's seat. "You should have let me keep driving then. Out of both of us, I think I'm the expert in this area."

"I'm fine," he grits out, and Alexis rolls her eyes.

"Control freak," she mutters, and when he winces at the words, she wonders what memories she dredged up this time. He doesn't say, but she can't handle both of their emotional turmoil at the moment. She doesn't think he would tell her even if she asked.

The skyline is usually her compass, a polar north drawing her home. Alexis presses her fingers to the window as she catches sight of the familiar backdrop; the buildings always appear so small, yet close enough to touch.

Then, the ground shakes beneath them, and Alexis throws herself back against the seat. Sam hits the breaks, wheels skidding as they cross the bridge. She does her best to ignore the sounds of screaming, most from people who have abandoned their cars, deciding running would probably be the best course of action.

When the tremors cease, Alexis lifts her head and shakily asks, "What the hell was that? Lucifer?"

"I don't know." Sam opens his door, slowly making his way around to grab the weapons bag out of her trunk. He slams it shut with a clang. "Let's go," he says, grabbing her elbow and steering her forward.

The area surrounding the precinct looks like a bomb went off. Some of the buildings are nothing but rubble and wreckage at her feet. For a moment, Alexis remembers Beckett's apartment, ashes and cinders and her entire life almost up in flames. By the stoic look on his face, she wonders if Sam is remembering a similar thing.

When Alexis takes off down the street, Sam mutters, "Shit," and follows after her, heels skidding across the pavement. He grabs her arm, yanking her back around the corner, and hisses, "Are you suicidal?"

She holds up her hand, bidding him to listen. The sound of gunshots fills the air, the smell of cordite pungent and metallic. Her hands itch for a weapon that would actually be useful - Sam has the Colt, and she has the distinct feeling he intends to relegate her to the sidelines. She almost snorts. Fat chance, good luck with that one.

Then, she hears a voice, muffled but familiar, shout, "Ryan, get out of there!"

At the sound of a loud crash, Alexis turns, stumbling over her own two feet when her father turns the corner. He still assists on cases from time to time, shadowing Beckett into deep, dark, and dangerous places, but this is beyond any situation even Beckett knows how to control. He shouldn't be here - he's going to get himself killed.

A long, angry-looking cut mars his right cheek. Before she realizes what she's doing, Alexis takes a step forwards, but Sam wrenches her back. She's starting to get sick of Sam pushing her around when things get rough and dangerous, and she glares, hoping her expression gets that point across.

"Wait," Sam murmurs, stepping in front of her, "Christo."

When her father recoils, Alexis feels her entire world collapse in on itself. She can't move, can't think - can't do anything but stare as his eyes turn black.

"Daddy," Alexis whispers, and Sam cringes, just slightly. His hand never wavers on the Colt, and a chilling thought goes through her because oh God, even if he doesn't shoot, she's seen what his power can do. Her father could die, and suddenly, all of her training goes out the window because her chest feels too tight, and she can't breathe.

The demon cocks his head to the side and grins - and she has to think of him as the demon, because if she sees Rick Castle, she's going to lose it right here. Either that, or do something stupid that will get her or possibly all of them killed. "Not exactly, baby girl. But I'm wearing his meat."

He smiles, rocking back on his heels and clasping his arms behind his back. "Well, isn't this just the conundrum? You can't kill me with that magic gun of yours. Wouldn't want to damage the packaging too much, would we? You could try an exorcism, but that takes time, and I promise you, time is something you don't have."

He wiggles his fingers at Sam and grins, all sinister and nothing like her father. "Come on. Give me your best shot."

Sam lowers the gun and raises his hand and Alexis' entire world grinds to a halt.

Then-

"Drop your weapons!"

Alexis jumps, and Sam turns, startled at the sound of another voice in the street with them. Beckett has her gun raised and pointed at Sam, but her eyes waver between the two of them, as if she can't quite believe what she's seeing - that Alexis would stand with a stranger against her own father, with a .36mm pointed at his head no less.

Yeah, if she wasn't smack in the middle of the situation, Alexis wouldn't believe it, either.

"Kate! They tried to kill me!" The demon holds his hand against a wound on his shoulder, one Alexis didn't notice before, looking exactly like her terrified, overwrought father. Suddenly, she wants nothing more than to somehow funnel Sam's power and rip this demon out of Castle through his throat.

Beckett turns her gun on Alexis. While it's two of them versus one of her, there's still a demon to contend with - inside of her father, which makes the situation even stickier - and she knows from experience that regardless of Sam's size, if Beckett feels threatened, she could take both of them down.

"Drop your weapons," Beckett orders them again.

Alexis tries to reason with her. "Beckett-"

"On the ground, now!"

Sam holds out his hands, slowly lowering the Colt to the ground. He exchanges a glance with Alexis, who nods as she slowly moves to her knees.

"Beckett, you're making a mistake," Alexis murmurs, shifting her eyes from the barrel of Beckett's gun back to her fath- the demon. He smiles, and Alexis yells, "Sam!" too late. The demon wraps his arm around Beckett's throat, twisting her wrist down towards the ground.

"Tsk, tsk, Detective. Should have taken the time to listen to the good Samaritans." He bends her wrist further and Beckett winces, the gun falling from her fingers.

"Castle, what are you doing?"

"Castle isn't here right now; he'll take a message and get back to you." The demon laughs. Sam slides the Colt slowly under his palm across the pavement to Alexis without ever taking his eyes off of Beckett or her father.

"Oh, Kate," the demon whispers in Beckett's ear, lips hovering just over her neck. Beckett's eyes flicker back and forth as she tries to make sense of the entire situation. "You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, darling."

The demon moves to snap her neck, and Sam throws himself forward, tossing Beckett to the side hard enough that Alexis winces when she hears something crack. Sam gets two solid punches in before the demon rolls Sam onto his back, straddling his waist.

"You know Sam, you never learn do you?" He punches Sam twice, and his lip splits. "You can't save everyone." A knee to Sam's still-healing ribcage and Sam wheezes, trying to pull in on himself. "Sometimes, you just have to let some people die."

Alexis stands cocking the gun, and the demon pauses, turning to her with a slow, wide smirk. Her hands are steady, despite the fact that she is pointing a gun point-blank at her father's head. Close enough to kill. Beckett rolls onto her side, pressing a hand to the back of her head, her eyes widening when she sees how the tides have turned.

"You won't shoot me, Lexie," the demon says, laughing wildly, "You don't have the guts."

"You're right," Alexis says, swallowing hard, "I don't."

Alexis meets Sam's eyes as he pushes himself to his feet. When the demon whirls around, she closes her eyes. The sound of her father screaming makes everything within her scream wrong, wrong, wrong, but there's absolutely nothing she can do, absolutely nothing she can say that will make this go away. She opens her eyes in time to see black smoke rising, Beckett's disbelieving eyes following. Her father falls and Sam catches him, easing his body to the ground.

Sam presses his fingers to the pulse at her father's throat. Alexis holds her breath until Sam meets her eye and nods. "He's alive." She feels like she's going to faint, but holds herself upright. Barely.

"He was a diversion," Sam says, and it takes her a moment of rattled, broken thoughts to realize he means the demon.

She finds her voice enough to ask, "For what?"

"I don't know."

"What the hell is going on?"

Alexis turns to Beckett, startled; in all of the insanity of the past few minutes, she almost forgot that Beckett was still here. Saving her father took precedence over sparing Beckett from the cold, hard truth.

Beckett stares at her, wide-eyed and somewhere between shocked and incredulous. Alexis shakes her head, trying to forget the image of her father with black eyes and get her thoughts in order. "I really don't have time to explain. Get my dad somewhere safe and pull your men back. The people you're shooting at - you can't fight them. We can. You just have to trust me."

"Alexis-"

"Are you doing any good right now but getting your people killed?" She steps towards Beckett, who pushes herself to her feet, one hand holding onto her left wrist, bruised and twisted at the wrong angle. "You know me, Detective Beckett. You know I wouldn't lie to you, not about something like this. I know you deserve an explanation, but I'm asking you, just this once - trust me. Please."

Detective Kate Beckett does not back down when she thinks she's right or follow anyone's instincts but her own. Alexis expects a fight and braces herself for one. So, when Beckett somehow wraps her good arm around Castle's torso, she can only stare back in numb, stunned silence as Beckett picks him up, half-unconscious and groaning gibberish against her shoulder. She tosses Sam a cool glare as she stumbles under her father's weight, dragging him down the street.

Alexis blinks after them. "That... was not how I expected that to go."

Sam stares off into the distance and doesn't appear to be listening. She recognizes the expression instantly - removed, pained and lost in his memories. She places a hand on his shoulder, trying to draw him back to the present, anchoring him with a touch.

"He'll be okay," Sam says quietly, eyes still focusing in the middle distance on something she can't see.

Alexis sighs, shaking herself. She shoves the Colt back into Sam's palm with a resigned nod. His eyes finally focus down at the gun in his hand. "Tell me that when this is over."

Sam hands her the Colt with a shake of his head. "You need it more than I do."

She closes her fingers around the trigger mutely, hand surprisingly steady as her heartbeat soars.

"Come on," Sam says, guiding her down the street by the small of her back, "We have work to do."

Alexis throws herself backwards at Sam’s behest as he charges at the demons; the sound of their screams ricocheting off of what remains of the surrounding buildings makes her choke back bile. True to her word, Beckett cleared the streets and pulled her people back. There is no one else around to witness and - God help her - appreciate Sam pulling demons one by one, commanding attention.

Sam quickly reaches his limits, however, his breath coming heavier. He's straining himself; this is going too far. They need to find a way out now before he kills himself.

Alexis stiffens at the sound of her name in an unfamiliar voice and turns to face black eyes above a wide, grinning mouth. She swallows, fear making her plant her feet to avoid taking a step back. She yanks the Colt from her waistband without thought and shoots a single bullet straight between the demon's eyes.

The sound of Sam's hoarse cry makes her turn just in time to see him stumble over the rubble at his feet holding a hand to his head, eyes squeezed shut in agony. Sam grits his teeth, and Alexis wonders if the pain in his head comes from over-exertion of his powers or the demons crowding him - and isn't that ironic?

When Sam clenches his fingers, Alexis catches herself stepping backwards, still unable to look away. Sam's forehead scrunches up and he gasps, blood dripping from his nose and down his face. The group of demons around him - Alexis doesn't bother to count but thinks there's five or six - scrabble at their throat before falling to their knees, not moving.

Sam attempts to catch his breath, rubbing a shaking wrist under his nose to wipe the blood away. He swallows, licks his lips and raises his chin. His eyes are black as pitch and defiant. "Still want to stick with me, Lex?"

Emotions crowd Alexis' brain, warring for dominance. Terror is at the forefront, but underlying all of them, pushing the rest to the side, are trust and a knowing that runs deeper than anything else. She knows Sam, despite all of the secrets he keeps and this world he dragged her into, possibly better than she knows herself.

Alexis cradles Sam's face in her hands. She swallows back her fear and slowly, gently presses her lips to his. She tastes blood from the cut at the corner of his mouth, and his lips taste like dirt and ashes, but he's still Sam, still the same person she fell in love with nine years ago.

She kneels in the street, heedless of the dust and wreckage around her and grasps Sam's chin, staring into wide, dark eyes focusing desperately on her own. "We're going to get through this," Alexis whispers, "Do you hear me, Sam? I'm not going anywhere."

Sam closes his eyes, shuddering in her grasp. He drops his head, nodding against her shoulder. "Okay." His eyes are normal again when he lifts his head, and Alexis swallows, breathing with him. "Okay."

"Good." Alexis stands, holding out her hand to help tug Sam to his feet. He surveys the devastation around him, but she doesn't let him look for long.

"So," Sam turns, and even in the midst of the destruction around her, Alexis feels a smile tugging at the edge of her lips. "Let's go save the world."

The sound of applause makes Alexis spin; when Sam turns, his expression of terror makes her feel like someone dumped a bucket of ice down her back. "Sam, I must say - I am impressed. I didn't think you had it in you."

The devil grins, and Alexis feels a chill wash down her spine. Dad was never particularly religious, but she knows Lucifer was once the most beautiful of all of God's angels - his name means light bringer for a reason, after all.

However, Lucifer's chosen vessel appears to be falling to pieces, open lesions covering his skin, as if this body was not made to contain the raw power held inside. She tries to imagine Sam commanding all of that grace and shudders, guiltily shoving the image away.

Sam grits his teeth, holding his ground as Lucifer speaks. "Now, you aren't perhaps planning on saying yes on top of such a splendid performance and making both of our lives easier, are you?"

"Not even if you kill me," Sam promises and Lucifer sighs.

"Pity. And here I thought you were coming to your senses."

Sam yanks the Colt from Alexis' waistband, and Lucifer tilts his head to the side like a large, puzzled bird. "Now, now Sam, I thought we were having a nice, civil conversation."

Sam doesn't bother granting him an answer. He pulls the trigger, and Alexis jumps at the reverberation of the sound in the empty street. The bullet hits Lucifer dead center in his forehead, and he falls to his knees before collapsing face down into the rubble and concrete.

Alexis approaches warily, skirting around the body as Sam lowers the gun. "Is it over?"

Later, she would deny that the sound ever left her throat, but in the moment, she doesn't care - her heart leaps out of her chest as Lucifer stands, and Alexis screams because he was dead. She shares a terrified glance with Sam because oh my fuck, their brilliant plan? Not so brilliant after all.

Lucifer stands, brushing the dust and dirt off of his clothes while the hole in his forehead closes before their eyes, the crack mending with an entirely impossible speed. "Ouch, Sam. I'm hurt."

Sam takes a step backwards, trying to control his breathing - trying fruitlessly not to panic.

"Bet you thought you had a perfectly thought-out plan there. Hate to spoil your fun, but there are only five things in creation that can't be killed by the Colt - and as luck would have it, I'm one of them." He smiles, sighing pitifully. "Sorry, Sam. You lose this round."

"What do you want?" Alexis' stomach clenches at the desperation in Sam's voice.

"For you to say yes."

"That is never going to happen."

Sam raises his hand, and Lucifer chuckles, as if he finds the entire situation unbearably amusing. "Oh, Sam," he sighs. Sam narrows his eyes, fingers clenching, forehead creasing in concentration. When he grabs his head, breath coming quicker, blood drips steadily from his nose to the ground.

The devil glares as he collapses to his knees, panting, and Alexis races to his side. "Do not even consider it, Sam. You do not have that kind of power."

"Not yet," Sam says hoarsely, "But I will."

Lucifer hums, clucking his tongue in consideration. "And what does brother dearest think of that?"

"You stay away from him." Sam is vehement and would leave no room for argument if he were speaking to anyone other than the freakin' devil.

"I do not want anything to do with him, Sam. The only person I am invested in is you." Lucifer taps his forehead and Sam winces, as if the touch scalds.

"See you soon." He winks, and Sam rushes to stand as Lucifer disappears. Alexis grasps Sam around his waist just before he falls, not an easy feat for someone almost double her size. He leans all of his weight onto her shoulder, glaring at the space the devil was previously occupying, as if he could bring him back with a thought.

She swallows, tugging on his hand. "Come on, Sam, we have to go."

The precinct still stands, but for the grace of God - possibly literally in this case, Alexis thinks dryly. She yanks the doors open, heaving Sam up the stairs, each step slower than the last. Beckett immediately rises to her feet, waltzing forward with purpose as Alexis stumbles inside, practically carrying a half-conscious Sam the last twenty feet across the floor towards Beckett's desk.

"Sit," she orders him. Sam flops down in the chair and groans, tilting his head back.

"Jesus," Beckett turns to yell to no one in particular, "Someone get this kid a towel! Possibly some aspirin or twelve," she mutters under her breath.

"Don't bother," Sam mumbles, "Won't help. I just need to sit here until the world stops spinning."

"You shouldn't have tried to ice the freakin' devil," Alexis grumbles, shoving the towel a stunned Beckett hands her under his chin. Sam takes it without protest, pressing it to his nose. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking the Colt was a bust, so why not give Plan B a spin." Sam closes his eyes, clearly weary and exhausted. Alexis knows she should just leave well enough alone, but she can't help herself. Her mouth always seems to get in the way.

"There was no Plan B! It was a theory tossed out by a demon, the same demon, by the way, who provided us with a weapon that he insisted would work and then didn't. Never mind that you were already exhausted and drained and practically ready to fall flat on your-"

"Jesus, Alexis, I don't need the lecture, not from you," Sam snaps, tossing the bloody towel to Beckett's desk, and Alexis can't figure out if he means because I already got it from Dean or because you're not Dean.

That's the moment Alexis realizes she needs to stop analyzing Sam fucking Winchester because her fucking head is about to explode because this fucking day has just been too fucking much - and her father would either smack her for the sheer amount of swearing in that statement, or more than likely congratulate her on finally not stuttering while even thinking the word fuck. She needs him to wake up so she can find out first hand. She needs him to wake up - period.

A moment of silence follows where Alexis realizes she just aired all of their dirty laundry in front of a precinct full of people who have no idea what the hell is going on and probably think they're insane.

"Someone tell me what the hell is going on out there," Beckett says, barely giving them a moment to settle.

Sam and Alexis stare at each other coolly, an entire conversation conveyed in a single glance. Sam shrugs a shoulder jerkily. Instead of answering, Alexis shoves the Colt into her jeans pocket while Sam asks, "You have any rock salt around here?"

"What for?" Esposito shoots back instantly, holding a towel over his forearm, the white soaked through with red.

"There should be some downstairs," Alexis says, not answering his question, "At least a couple of bags. We keep it stored there during the summer. I could probably wrangle up some spray paint, too."

"Awesome," Sam says, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. Alexis takes that as the opening he means the gesture to be and heads for the stairs.

"Wait, wait, hold on a second here." Beckett cuts off her path, and Alexis sighs.

"Beckett-"

"Don't Beckett me, Alexis." Beckett shivers, though it must be from shock. The fearless Kate Beckett laughs in the face of danger where lesser men hide until it goes away. "I let you walk off earlier without any explanation or demand for the truth. I pulled my men out of the line of fire just because you asked me to trust you. Ri- Castle is still unconscious. Ryan died after someone he shot through the heart got right back up and kept on swinging like it was nothing but a flesh wound." Alexis' eyes widen, her courage starting to falter. "I want to know why and I want some answers, now."

Alexis bites her lip, feeling all of fifteen years old, just an intern sitting in the evidence room waiting for orders. She fights the urge to scuff her shoes against the floor; instead, she pushes back her emotions and holds her head high. She pulls herself to her full height, stepping up to Beckett so they're practically toe to toe.

"I know you're confused, Detective Beckett. I was there myself not four months ago, and I was scared to death. But I can't explain until we're safe because right now, we are sitting ducks for the things that are out there trying to kill us."

Beckett grinds her teeth together, arms crossed over her chest, feet shoulder width apart, eyes narrowing. Alexis has seen the look leveled at her father a million times, frustration and exasperation giving way to a cool fury. A million words go unsaid with that one expression, and Alexis feels befittingly chastised.

Still, she refuses to give in to Beckett's demands. "Sam is going to stay up here with you. You can trust him. I'll be right back." She glances over Beckett's shoulder at her father laid out on Ryan's desk. God, Ryan... She swallows back the tears, and says, "And look after my dad," before turning on her heel and heading down the stairs. When she gets to the storage room, away from prying eyes and ears, she finally lets the tears and her shaky legs give way, sinking to the floor with her knees against her chest and head in her hands.

Alexis takes the time to pull herself together, taking a few deep breaths to center herself. As she comes back upstairs, hefting one bag at a time, she hears Sam giving directions. His face is still pale under a slight sheen of sweat, but at least his nose stopped bleeding. His hands appear to be steady as he gestures and points while he speaks.

"Lay a line of salt around all of the doors and the windows. Every exit needs to be covered."

Beckett's hands are on her waist, and even the densest person in the universe could make out the sarcasm in her voice. "What good is that going to do?"

"Who is this guy?" Esposito asks Alexis off to the side. Her answer is to hand a bag of salt to both of them.

"You remember my boyfriend in college? The one I dumped just after freshman year because he was a little too mysterious?" Alexis points to Sam's back and Beckett pauses on her way to the opposite side of the room. Alexis smirks as the bag of salt slips, just a little, in her grip. "Should have run that background check on him when you had the chance," she says, smirking.

Esposito whistles, cocking his head to the side. "Falling for the bad boy. Your father must be proud." He grins, wiggling his eyebrows as he hoists his bag into his arms and walks away. Alexis blinks after him.

Sam's hand on her shoulder yanks her out of her thoughts. "Come on. You and I are taking the main exits downstairs."

Sam speaks quickly as they work, all of his words jumbling together, coming out in a hurried rush. "So, we'll draw out Devil's Traps in front of all of the exits when we're finished laying the salt lines, we should probably work on a few Enochian sigils too, you wanted to run a background check on me?"

Alexis fumbles her grip on the bag, salt spilling all over the floor at her feet. Sam grins as she blushes, flustered, continuing to lay a neater line around the window ledge. "You weren't exactly forthcoming on the details surrounding your past, Sam. I just... wanted to make sure you weren't a serial killer or a rapist -"

"Or a wanted felon?" Sam's lips quirk, but there's a haunted look behind his amusement. Alexis sighs, dropping the bag to the floor at her feet. She wraps her arms around his waist from behind, and he pauses in his movements, the bag of salt open and mid-way between the wall and the windowsill.

"I'm sorry," she says into his shoulder, and she feels the tense muscles of his shoulders relax under her chin.

"For what? Prying into my past? I don't blame you, really." He shrugs, continuing to pour the salt along the window, "Doesn't mean I'm happy about it."

"No - well, yeah, for that, too. Sort of." She tightens her grip around him. "For yelling at you earlier. You're right. The last thing you needed was a lecture. You're the expert here, not me. And I shouldn't have reamed you out in front of everyone."

Sam drops the bag to the floor, exhaling loudly before turning around, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. Only then does she realize she still has goosebumps and shivers under his hands.

"You okay?" He asks quietly, and she laughs, because this is just like Sam to change the subject, circle the conversation back to something bothering her, and make her talk about her emotions but not give her the same courtesy.

At this point, she doesn't have the strength to argue. "No, Sam, I'm not okay. The devil is still alive, at least one of my friends is dead, we're stuck here with a bunch of people who used to think I was the most sane person on the face of the planet and are now ready to either commit me or lock me up and throw away the key, I have no way of getting in touch with the rest of my family to find out if they're okay, my Dad was possessed, I almost had to kill him, and I still have no idea if he's going to wake up, so no, Sam, I am most definitely not okay." She doesn't breathe through her entire tirade, and suddenly the air is stifling, thick enough for her to choke.

Sam rubs his hand up and down her back. "Breathe, Alexis, okay? Breathe."

She takes in a giant gulp of air, holds it for a moment, and then exhales. She feels a blush creep up her neck when she realizes what a complete ass she's making of herself. "I'm sorry."

Sam laughs, though not unkindly. "For what? Alexis, you were kidnapped and handcuffed to a bar. I told you I was Lucifer's vessel and monsters were real, and your answer was to lie to your boss and then resign from your job to come with me on a road-trip to find a way to kill them. All things considered, I think you've been wildly overdue for a breakdown."

He simply holds her while she does exactly that - freaks the hell out, lets every emotion she hasn't allowed herself to feel since Sam Winchester wedged himself back into her life four months ago with a glance across a godforsaken bar in Garber, Oklahoma come pouring out in one long, shuddering sob. She clings to Sam's shirt - and laughs a little hysterically, enough that Sam stops petting her hair, pulls back and looks at her face.

"What? Lex, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just..." She fingers his collar and gives him a watery smile. "You're wearing my favorite shirt."

Sam stares for a moment then kisses her, laughing with his mouth against hers, curling his hands in her hair. Alexis throws her arms around him, pressing herself close, chest to thigh, legs tangling together until she forces him against the wall to keep his balance.

"'m sorry I yelled at you," Sam gasps, blazing a trail down her throat so she has to force herself to concentrate on his words, "You were right, I was stupid, didn't think, could have gotten us both killed."

"Shut up, Sam," she says, because this is a heat-of-the-moment apology and it's genuine, pure Sam, but she's terrified of what will come out of his mouth next. Alexis tries to distract him, shoving her hands under his shirt, working on getting the buttons open.

"Just want it to be over," Sam mutters against her shoulder.

"Don't." Alexis feels cold all over, like all of the life has been sucked from the room, and she forces Sam's chin up to face her head-on. "Don't you dare give up on me. You do not get to say yes, Sam. Not after all of this."

Sam slumps in her arms, all of his weight against her, the hand against his chin the only thing holding him upright. "I just... I don't know what to do."

Alexis surges forward, catching his lips with hers, because she doesn't know what else to do, either, what else to make this better. Sam kisses her with desperate enthusiasm, his hands skating up under her shirt to get to the skin beneath, and Alexis paws at his belt, wondering when her modesty went out the window. A voice clearing their throat interrupts them, making them freeze.

The situation would be comic at any other time, and Esposito bites his lip, blessedly refraining from commenting as they pull their hands back into view and begin awkwardly adjusting clothing.

"I hate to break up the moment, but I thought you might want to know - your Dad's awake."

Alexis feels her heart beat double time, tripping over itself, stomach clenching with anticipation. She glances up at Sam, who smiles at her with understanding. "Go. I should finish up those Devil's Traps."

She knows this is just a ploy, a decoy to give them alone time, and she smiles gratefully for the reprieve. Esposito gives her a smirk as she pats down her hair, tugging her shirt back into place, but doesn't say another word.

When Alexis sees her father sitting up, leaning against Beckett's shoulder, she can't help herself - she bolts across the room and throws herself into his arms.

"Ow, honey, easy on the merchandise." He chuckles quietly, and Alexis pulls back, horrified. "Damaged goods," he says with a higher-pitched and obviously forced laugh.

"You are not," she protests vehemently, shaking her head, annoyed by the tears welling up in her eyes. She's done enough crying in the past day to last her a good, long while.

Dad rubs a thumb under her right eye, giving her a smile. "What are you crying about? I'm fine. Everything in one piece." He grimaces, pulling his shoulder a little tighter against his side. "Well, practically one piece. But seriously, this?" He points to the cut on his face. "This is nothing. Chicks dig scars. I'll come off as rugged and manly and - ow!" He winces, turning to Beckett with a glare.

She shrugs, completely unrepentant from her place at his shoulder, where she attempts to fit a makeshift sling. "What? I thought this was nothing." He huffs, and she grins widely.

Alexis swallows, grabbing her father's hand between hers and squeezing his fingers. "Dad, I'm sorry."

"For what? This?"

She shakes her head, staring down at her lap. "I should have been here. I should have -"

"Alexis, stop. Look at me." She lifts her head, and her father's honest eyes, more than anything else, let her know that everything is going to be all right. For the first time since seeing him possessed, she feels like she can breathe. "This is not your fault. Do you understand me?" She slowly nods her head.

The hesitance in Dad's voice is out of character and makes her sit up straighter, listening closely to what he has to say. "Just out of curiosity... what made you change your mind?" What made you change your mind about coming home?

She feels her lips tremble and forcibly tells herself you will not cry again, damn it. "You did."

The blinding smile on her father's face almost makes everything else fade away. Slowly, the smile fades, and he shakes his head. "I thought I had the strangest dream. I was in my body, but I wasn't in control of it. I saw what I did, but everything is just so muddled." Alexis puts her hand on his arm as he looks at her, eyes strangely focused and serious as he turns to Beckett. "Did I dream that?"

"Ask your daughter," Beckett says, straight faced and eyebrow arched as she ties off the final knot in the sling. Damn it all to hell, Alexis knows that expression, has seen it a million times when Beckett grills a suspect in the holding room.

She is so screwed.

"Lexie, you got some 'splainin' to do," Dad says playfully, but she can read the question in his tone as his eyes flicker across her face.

Alexis glances at Sam as he comes up the stairs and sighs. Sam's lips pinch together and he moves to her side, close enough that their shoulders brush. Her father arches an eyebrow, lips quirking into an interested smirk that Alexis chooses to ignore for as long as humanly possible.

"All right," she says, crossing her arms over her chest, leaning further into Sam for support, "But remember. You asked for it."

The expressions around the precinct range from stalwart shock to outright disbelief. Beckett appears deep in thought, caught somewhere in-between. Alexis waits for one - or all of them - to call her insane, because their silence will drive her crazy.

"Now I know how you feel all the time," Alexis murmurs where she sits cross-legged on the floor along the wall in place of Beckett's murder board, her head on Sam's shoulder.

"This is the part I expected you to call me insane," Sam says, his breath ruffling her hair. She feels him smirk against her neck, "That or punch me in the face."

"I won't say I wasn't tempted," she says quietly, and he huffs a laugh that shakes her gently. "I'm good with weird."

"I'm getting that."

Dad, of course, is always good for breaking tension.

"Lucifer," he says, the word like a crack, making Beckett jump. She slaps at his good shoulder with a glare.

"Yes." Alexis picks up her head, folding her hands in her lap.

"Lucifer," he repeats.

"Did I stutter?"

"Don't get smart with me."

"I always get smart with you."

"Because I raised you well." There's a long pause where Alexis is sure her father has finally decided to believe her story.

She should know better. "Seriously, the devil?"

"Dad," she intones, exasperated.

"Sorry, I'm just... trying to wrap my head around this whole demons are real and we're in the middle of Armageddon thing."

"This coming from the guy who writes murders for a living," Beckett says, lips twitching into a grin.

"Murders that fall under the category of pulp fiction - keyword being fiction. This is way above my pay grade."

"Is there anything that's not above your pay grade?" Esposito asks, and Beckett rolls her eyes.

"I can think of someone who's usually above me," he leers at Beckett, arching an eyebrow, "And sideways and under, and in many other positions that are probably illegal in some-"

Alexis rushes to her feet, waving her hands wildly in front of her before that thought goes somewhere she most definitely does not need it to go. There are some things about her father she has no necessity to know about - his sex life being mighty high up on that list. "Hey, hey, hey - no gross sex talk in front of the children, thank you. Christ," she mutters, running a hand through her hair. Sam covers up a laughing fit with a cough. She kicks his shin with the heel of her boot. He grins through his wince.

She turns in time to see Dad slowly walk towards her, shoulder bandaged and in that makeshift sling, and again, her heart clenches as she wonders what could have happened if they hadn't gotten there in time, if they arrived just a few minutes earlier. There are a million possibilities, and she should probably stop thinking backwards, just keep moving forwards.

He pulls her into his arms, and Alexis closes her eyes because this is the one place she has always felt safe. Loved. No matter where she goes, that will never change. "I'm glad you're back, sweetie," he whispers against her hair, pulling away to give her a smile, "Even if it did take the end of the world to get you here."

Alexis wakes up that night cold and alone.

She blinks awake quickly, a habit she picked up over the past few months - vigilance is key when hunting monsters and demons, after all - and casts her eyes around the room, dark except for the emergency lights. She pushes herself up, wincing as her back protests sleeping on a hard, tile floor. Across the room, her father sleeps on one of the small couches, limbs curled up tight. Beckett sits in the chair beside him, head titled at an angle that says she fell asleep keeping a silent vigil. Alexis smiles, then shakes her head and pulls on her shoes. She shivers, the air frigid, and draws the blanket around her, keeping her footsteps whisper quiet as she searches for Sam.

She finds him downstairs, sitting on the steps. Alexis pauses, standing behind him. She tugs the blanket tighter around her body. Sam doesn’t acknowledge her presence; he continues blankly staring out at the upturned cars and the stars in the darkness beyond the window, as if they have the answers to all of his unasked questions.

Alexis watches him silently, rubbing her hands up and down her arms for warmth. His face gives nothing of his thoughts away, but there’s a shadow to his eyes, a deep haunting in his face that makes her wonder what facet of the end of the world he’s dwelling on this time.

“I know you’re there, Alexis,” Sam says quietly, and she jumps, his voice jarring in the stillness and silence. She takes a breath to calm her speeding heart and closes the distance between them, sitting down beside him.

“Sorry,” she murmurs quietly, “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

He shrugs, digging his boot into the floor. “You didn’t."

When he doesn't offer any further explanation, Alexis tentatively asks, "Another nightmare?"

"Just couldn't sleep."

If Alexis has learned one thing about Sam Winchester over the past few months, it's that prying will get her nowhere but with more questions than she started or facing down his wrath. She bites her lip despite her curiosity and lets him talk on his own terms.

Eventually, the truth comes pouring out. “Dean hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Alexis counters immediately, though she has nothing to base this on other than what Sam has told her about his brother. Their relationship has buckled and bent, twisted and mangled, but after everything they've been through, she doesn't think that sort of connection could ever truly break, despite their severed ties.

“Well he sure as hell doesn’t trust me.” Sam drops his eyes, head shaking back and forth slowly. “I honestly don’t know which is worse. You didn't see the way he looked at me. How Bobby looked at me. They're terrified. Like they're waiting for the moment that I’ll turn on them.” Sam barks a laugh. “Or say yes. And maybe they're right. Maybe they have every reason to be afraid.” Sam’s voice falls to a whisper. “Sometimes, I’m terrified of myself.”

Alexis turns toward him, pulling his hands into her lap, clasping their fingers together. "I'm not scared of you, Sam," she says quietly, swallowing past the other words stuck in her throat, the ones she can't seem to get out, no matter how hard she tries.

"Alexis..." He hesitates, like he hears them anyway, and then sighs, pulling his hands away. That shouldn't sting or feel like a rejection, but somehow, it does. He stands up, running his hands through his hair. "Can we not talk about this anymore? Please?"

"You were the one who brought it up," she whispers to his back as he walks away, wondering why she can yell and scream at the top of her lungs about Lucifer, but can't say three stupid, meaningless words to his face.

-----

Three days after their arrival in New York, the rain starts.

Clouds obscure the sun, turning everything to darkness. The streets have remained apocalyptically quiet, but the phone lines are down, and the television and radios offer nothing but static. Their only line to the outside world is actually outside.

Sam doesn’t think this is a coincidence; neither does Alexis, but three days holed up at the precinct seems to be driving everyone a little stir crazy. Every time Esposito glances at Ryan’s desk, he looks ready to go on a killing spree. Beckett paces the floor, biting at her thumbnail until Dad forces her into a chair with a cup of coffee. He joins Alexis at the windows, looking out at the rubble and wreckage.

"So this is the end of the world," he says, and Alexis shakes her head, hugging her arms around herself. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, pulling her against him in an awkward hug - like she's twelve again and the cool kids at school are making fun of her for having a famous father, for being too smart or too tall or too scrawny to play soccer.

She picks up her head, looking her dad in the eye. The slash across his right cheek is still healing - "The scar will make me look roguish," he reiterated with a smile that made Alexis' eyes water, because Dad always knows how to make everything better and make all the bad things go away.

"Dad, I-"

A crash of breaking glass makes her stiffen. She immediately pulls out of his arms, checking for the Colt and the bottle of holy water at her side. Sam is out searching for more supplies - because a precinct full of people can only last on coffee and food from vending machines for so long - and hasn't come back yet, but she isn't worried. Not yet, anyway.

"What was that?" Beckett asks, and Alexis grabs the shotgun - the one now filled with salt shells, and wasn't that a hoot to help Sam teach the rest of the precinct - tosses it to Esposito and grabs the book of exorcisms off of Becket's desk.

"Let's find out," she says, and Esposito grins. He's been way too excited about the chance to actually kill a demon since Ryan died. Not that she blames him.

Alexis takes point, a position she still has yet to get used to, the fact that everyone defers to her now. Her footsteps are light on the stairs, barely noticeable. She points around the corner, letting Esposito go ahead of her when she sees the man standing in the center of the Devil's Trap with his back to them, soaking wet and facing the window.

"Distract him," she whispers, opening the book of exorcisms, and he nods.

She opens the book as Esposito cranks the gun and loudly proclaims, "Don't move you evil son of a bitch."

Alexis sighs. Well, she wanted a distraction.

"Okay, buddy," the demon's voice is shockingly calm for the situation he's caught himself in, "Let's not do anything hasty."

There's a smack of skin against skin, and Alexis snaps up her head in time to see Esposito stepping back, the demon pressing his hand to the side of his face, groaning in pain and shaking his head.

"Now, that was just rude."

"Poor baby," Esposito snaps. "Hasty would have been shooting you full of rock salt before you turned around." He laughs, though he is nowhere near amused.

"No, I'm going to make this a lot more painful. And also, a lot more fun to watch." He steps to the side, and Alexis takes that as her cue to step forward, one hand holding the open book of exorcisms, the other grasping the bottle of holy water.

The demon rolls his eyes and mutters, "Oh, come on." She doesn't let him deter her, though and lets the words fly off of her tongue, stuttering at first at the unfamiliar syllables but gaining confidence as she continues. He crosses his arms, cocks a hip and smirks when she raises her eyes because other than being clearly bored, he isn't screaming in pain, there is no black smoke - he isn't reacting at all.

"This isn't working," Alexis says, masking her rising terror with frustration as she exchanges a confused glance with Esposito.

The stranger's hands drop to his sides, clenching into fists, and Alexis gets ready to push Esposito out of the way if he attacks. Instead, he casually steps out of the Devil's Trap. She thinks her heart might stop beating.

"No shit, Jessica Fletcher, because I'm not a fucking demon. So, why don't you put your little book away and tell me where my brother is?"

The book falls from Alexis' limp hands with a thump. Her eyes widen, and she sucks in a loud breath because holy shit.

"Dean?"

Part Four