Alex, Sam, and Dean were sitting in a roadside diner, waiting for sunset. At night, they were planning to check out the abandoned psychiatric hospital Crowley had turned into his lair — the place where he was keeping Amara.
The trio had already changed into regular casual clothes — walking around town dressed as agents would have been way too suspicious. While they ate, Alex was texting Lucina, Alice, and Samantha, checking how things were going in the bunker and whether anything had happened during the hours he and the Winchesters were gone.
Aside from the fact that Castiel was now watching talk shows together with GIR, MIMI, Stitch, and Claptrap — everything was perfectly calm. Alice even sent photos: Castiel sitting in a chair in front of the TV with GIR, MIMI, and Stitch piled on top of him, while Claptrap hopped around them.
Alex burst out laughing the moment he saw it. Sam and Dean turned to him at the same time, as if asking with their eyes, "What got into you now?"
Alex showed them the photo. Sam snorted, and Dean almost choked on his burger.
Meanwhile, back at the bunker, in a specially designated recreational room, sat one fallen angel — Castiel — and four of his new companions, with whom he had somehow, by some mysterious logic, managed to become friends: GIR, MIMI, Stitch, and Claptrap.
This strange group was watching another talk show, constantly commenting on everything. When the program ended and Stitch wanted to change the channel, Castiel stopped him, reminding him that it was their duty to watch the news too. People worked hard to film them, after all.
Amid grumbling that the news was boring, the broadcast continued, covering a drunken bar fight that escalated into a shootout. When footage recorded by a witness appeared — fighting, blood, a gun — all four immediately stopped complaining. Violence, judging by their faces, suited them perfectly.
But Castiel suddenly narrowed his eyes. Something flashed in the reflection of a mirror caught by the camera. He instantly grabbed the remote and paused the image. He stood up, approached the screen, and studied the reflection closely.
It was the face of Metatron. The scribe of God. A traitor, liar, the one responsible for the fall of the angels, for the civil war, and for attempting to usurp Heaven itself.
"Hey, we were watching that! Move!" GIR protested and threw a piece of popcorn at Castiel.
"We have found him," Castiel said quietly, his voice tense. "We have found Metatron."
"Megatron?" Stitch asked, tilting his head.
"No, we are not looking for a robot — but the Scribe of the Lord. He escaped because of me, and we must find him. Through him, we may learn about the Darkness. And therefore — how to defeat it," Castiel explained.
Claptrap spun excitedly:
"So he's a tiny guy! Can't you beat up that tiny guy yourself? Is he a goblin?"
"He used to be an angel… not a goblin," Castiel corrected patiently. "And even though he now hides like a rat, we must find him."
This news instantly energized the entire group. They exchanged looks — the decision was made without a word: this was their personal adventure. A chance like this couldn't be wasted. The plan was formed immediately: steal the car keys — and leave before the girls noticed.
Stitch volunteered to get the keys to Alex's Impala. While he sneaked off, Castiel, GIR, MIMI, and Claptrap headed to the garage. Stitch quietly reached the room where Alex and the girls stayed, slipped inside, and thoughtfully scratched his muzzle:
"Where do moms hide keys…?"
He didn't think for long — he started rummaging through purses, acting, as always, by the law of chaos. And indeed — the keys were in Alice's purse. Stitch darted out of the room and rushed to the garage. Bursting inside, he grinned triumphantly, tossed the keys to Castiel, and jumped into the car in the same instant.
Thus began a new adventure: a fallen angel who had turned away from his own kind, and a quartet of chaotic creatures set off to hunt down the former Scribe of God, Metatron. And one thing was perfectly clear — Metatron would be extremely unlucky once he ended up in the hands of GIR, MIMI, Stitch, and Claptrap.
At that very moment, in the town of Falls River, the Impala slowly approached the old abandoned psychiatric hospital. Inside sat Alex, Dean, and Sam.
Dean killed the engine at a distance from the building—close enough to reach it quickly, but far enough not to draw attention. No one wanted Crowley to learn about their arrival ahead of time.
The trio got out of the car and made their way through the dense thickets surrounding the asylum. They had to push through literal walls of thorny bushes; branches snagged their clothes, and the ground beneath their feet was damp and uneven.
Finally, they reached a tall, old fence encircling the entire property. At the only gate, Dean carefully pulled it toward himself—the doors yielded easily with a creak, as if they'd been waiting for visitors for a long time.
"Looks like no one's guarding the perimeter," Dean muttered as he opened the gate wider.
"What did you expect?" Alex snorted, glancing around. "Your girlfriend likes snacking on demons, so… they're a bit short on staff for security."
"Knock it off, Amara's not my girlfriend," Dean grumbled, rolling his eyes as he pulled out the Blade of Cain.
Alex just chuckled softly and didn't push the subject.
They moved cautiously across the grounds of the abandoned asylum, listening to every faint sound. The silence here was too dense, too suffocating—as if the building itself were holding its breath.
Reaching the main entrance, they exchanged glances again.
"Suspiciously quiet," Sam said. "Even for Crowley, this is… odd. You sure we're in the right place?"
"Look, here," Alex pointed at the walls. Faint protective symbols were carved into the surface. "Wards against everything imaginable. Crowley really tried to hide Amara."
"Yeah, and he protected it from humans with a damn schoolyard padlock," Dean muttered, leaning over the lock on the door. "Arrogant bastard."
"The outside might be lightly guarded," Sam noted, "but no one knows how many demons are inside."
"We'll find out," Alex said, throwing a metal rune-covered bat over his shoulder. "But a little caution won't hurt."
Dean nodded, cut through the lock, and gently pushed the door. It opened with a long, heavy groan.
Inside was total darkness. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs, as if the air hadn't moved in years.
As they pressed on, they reached a massive wooden door leading to a sealed-off wing. The planks were marked with intricate runes—too neat, too fresh for a place that had been abandoned for decades.
Sam pushed the door cautiously—it swung open easily, as if inviting them in.
Beyond it lay a world completely different.
The corridor looked freshly restored: stone tiles lined the walls and pillars, and chandeliers hung from the ceiling with real candles burning inside them. The atmosphere was strange—sterile in its neatness, yet deeply unsettling.
"Yup, that's Crowley," Dean muttered. "Let everything rot, but give himself a luxury suite."
They edged along the hallway, peeking around corners, ready to run into demons at any moment.
Footsteps echoed from deeper inside. The trio immediately pressed against the wall. Alex crouched down and carefully peeked around the corner—spotting a lone demon patrolling near a door.
Alex recognized him—Amara's guard.
Confirming that the demon was alone, he gestured to Sam and Dean, then pointed toward the guarded door. Sam and Dean nodded.
Dean was already forming a plan. He found one quickly—simple and brilliant. He took out his phone and played one of his recorded conversations with Crowley. Alex, understanding instantly, leaned back against the wall and lifted his bat.
The moment Crowley's voice echoed from the phone, the demon jolted. Every demon knew that when the King called, you came immediately. Otherwise things got… unpleasant.
The demon rounded the corner and saw Dean with the phone—right as Alex swung the bat and smashed it into the demon's face. The blow was powerful but precise—the demon went limp without even a groan.
Sam caught the body before it hit the floor and quickly snapped on anti-demonic cuffs.
Propping the demon against the wall, Alex, Sam, and Dean thought for a second that they'd gotten lucky—but the hope dissolved instantly. From the far hallway came quick, heavy footsteps. It was obvious: they'd been spotted, and the demons were already heading their way.
Sam quickly searched the unconscious guard, found the keys to Amara's room, and pressed them into Dean's palm.
"Dean, go get Amara out. We'll hold them off," Sam said, giving a short nod toward himself and Alex.
"And, Dean… be careful. Just in case," Alex added, giving him a serious look.
Dean only nodded tersely and hurried down the hallway toward the room where Amara was held.
Alex and Sam stayed behind. Alex already knew how Dean's conversation with Amara would go… and that Crowley would be there. He also understood that Amara would try once again to convince Dean she wasn't the enemy—gently planting doubts and leaving subtle hints.
And even though Alex felt terrible deceiving Dean—sometimes, to fool the enemy, you first have to fool an ally.
His thoughts were cut short—the first demons appeared in the hallway.
Sam tightened his grip on the demon-killing blade but, after meeting Alex's eyes, put it away again. He didn't want to kill. Alex understood why: the psychological scars the brothers carried ran deeper than any physical ones. In the week he'd spent in the bunker, Alex began to understand them far better—the two of them had long been broken by their endless "saving people."
Sam moved first—launching forward and tackling the first demon to the ground. The second demon reached for Sam, but Alex got there faster and slammed his heavy bat into the back of the demon's head.
Sam punched the first demon in the face several times, slapped on the anti-demonic cuffs, and tossed the second pair to Alex. Alex cuffed his target without a word.
But just as they dragged the two unconscious demons aside, a new group emerged from the second corridor—five demons.
"Sam, I hope you brought enough cuffs?" Alex asked, eyeing the incoming group.
"I'm starting to think we should've brought more…" Sam muttered, rising to his feet.
"Okay," Alex cracked his neck and lifted the bat. "I'll do it as usual and put in my maximum effort. And I'll try not to kill anyone."
With a smirk, he charged ahead.
Alex jumped and slammed his knee into the nearest demon's face, knocking him down. A second demon tried to slice him with an angel blade, but Alex ducked at the last moment, swung the bat, shattered the demon's legs, and finished him with a strike to the face.
Sam rushed in just in time—one demon had lifted an angel blade over Alex. Sam tackled him, slammed him to the floor, and punched him hard enough to disorient him.
Within seconds, three demons were already on the ground. Alex and Sam exchanged a look, nodded, and each picked another target.
"Sam Winchester and his new buddy, the no-kill duo… well, that works in our favor—" the demon started to sneer, but never finished.
Alex swung the bat and smashed it into the demon's jaw so hard the crack echoed down the hallway. The demon dropped to his knees, stunned, and Alex, taking a drag from his cigarette, looked down at him with a predatory grin.
"Sorry, pal," he said, blowing smoke right into the demon's face. "But I'm just a bad guy who gets paid to beat the crap out of even worse guys."
After that, Alex raised the bat over his head and struck the demon squarely on the skull. The demon went limp and collapsed face-first onto the floor. With his opponent knocked out, Alex turned to Sam, who was already snapping cuffs onto another demon. Sam finished fumbling with the lock, breathing hard, and glanced at Alex.
"Seven out of seven. Nice work," he said.
"Too bad we're not getting paid for it. Alright, let's go after Dean. I've got a feeling things aren't that simple over there," Alex replied, flicking away his extinguished cigarette.
Sam nodded, and the two of them ran down the hallway toward the room where Dean and Amara were supposed to be.
When they reached the door, Alex and Sam tried to open it, but it didn't budge. Alex was already preparing to kick it down when Sam suddenly collapsed — falling to his knees, clutching his head, terror in his eyes. Alex knew the reason: PTSD from the time he'd spent locked in the cage with Lucifer, who had tortured him in the most sadistic ways imaginable.
Without losing a second, Alex acted. He discreetly cast a mind-calming spell. Sam began to recover quickly.
"Sam, you okay?" Alex asked, helping him back to his feet.
"I… yeah. I'm fine. It's just… some things don't go away," Sam answered hoarsely, still breathing heavily.
Alex nodded, understanding far more than he wanted to. They turned back to the door. Alex activated his magical sight to see through the barrier — and spotted Amara: young, calm, speaking with Dean. Against the opposite wall was Crowley, pinned in place, blood streaming from his nose and mouth, his arm twisted at an unnatural angle.
Alex kept pretending to try to break down the door while listening to the conversation inside. He waited for the right moment — for Amara to plant a few more subtle seeds of doubt in Dean.
When Amara said that this world was not God's creation at all, Alex knew — the moment had come.
He and Sam rammed the door with their shoulders. The frame cracked, and the door flew off its hinges. Bursting inside, they saw Amara in her younger form — a teenage girl — with her hand resting gently on Dean's cheek.
Amara spun around and flicked her hand. Sam was thrown across the room by a wave of force, while Alex remained standing as if rooted to the ground.
"Not this time," he said, lifting his bat and pointing it at Amara. "Last time you washed me away in that bloody tidal wave at the hospital. But that trick won't work now."
Amara looked genuinely confused for a moment — she had never washed Alex away with blood. After talking to him and receiving the ice cream, she had simply left. But then she heard Alex's quiet voice inside her mind, hidden from everyone else: a request to play along, to keep the act going.
Amara understood instantly — and joined in.
"I only let you off easy last time because you're Dean's friend," she said, frowning and stepping forward. "Slip up again, and you won't be so lucky."
"You're still far from your full maturity," Alex replied, keeping the bat raised, "and that means I still have a chance to stop you."
Alex gave a barely noticeable nod — just enough for Amara to catch it. He was signaling: he was about to strike. Amara was ready to play along until the very end. Alex lunged at her, gripping the bat, and Amara was prepared to lightly push him back with her power, all according to plan: deflect him, say a few necessary words to Dean, and leave.
But something happened that Amara hadn't expected.
Dean stepped between them and blocked Alex's swing with the blade of Cain.
Dean himself didn't fully understand what had happened — his body had acted on instinct. He just… didn't want Amara to get hurt. Even Alex froze for a second in shock. He had expected hesitation, uncertainty from Dean — but not this. And all because Dean still didn't fully understand what he felt for Amara. Their connection weighed on him like a heavy, incomprehensible burden.
Alex looked at the stunned Dean, then gave Amara a barely noticeable blink, signaling the next move. Amara understood instantly. She waved her hand — and Alex was thrown back, crashing through the opposite door with his back. For a moment, Amara thought she might have overdone it, but she was confident Alex would be fine.
"Thank you for protecting me, Dean," she said softly, taking his hand and turning him toward her.
"Amara, I…" Dean muttered, unsure what to say.
"It's alright, Dean. I understand. It's hard for you to sort out your feelings… and everything happening around you. Just remember: I'm not the enemy in this story. And now I need to go. I want to see this world with my own eyes," Amara said, and in the next second, she vanished, leaving only silence behind.
Dean stood frozen, staring at the spot where Amara had been just a moment ago. His thoughts were interrupted by a sound — Crowley stirred nearby, trying to rise. Their eyes met, and Dean, gripping the hilt of Cain's blade, took a step, ready to finish him. But Crowley immediately vanished.
Sam approached Dean and laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Dean, where's Amara?" Sam asked, shaking him slightly.
"She left. Said she wants to see the world for herself. And that… the villain here isn't her," Dean replied, looking at his brother with a mix of emotions. He had let her go once again, and he wasn't sure if it was the right choice.
"It's alright. We'll find Amara and sort it out," Sam said, trying to reassure him.
Behind them, a familiar voice, full of pain and sarcasm, spoke up:
"I don't want to interrupt your brotherly bonding… but maybe someone could lend me a hand? Because it wasn't you who got thrown so hard you crashed through a door with your back," Alex's voice ended with a painful groan.
Dean and Sam rushed to him and helped him up. Dean looked at him with a guilty expression.
"Alex, I'm sorry. I… I don't know how that happened. My body just… moved on its own," he said.
"Don't worry about it, Dean," Alex waved him off. "I get it. I told you — there's something very strange between you and Amara. It's like the connection between me and Alisa."
Dean sighed heavily and nodded, fully understanding what Alex meant.
Leaving the asylum, Sam helped Alex into the car — the role of the wounded had to be played until the end. Starting the engine, the Impala drove off from the asylum grounds.
On the way, Sam grew curious about where Crowley had gone. Dean explained that he had simply vanished right after Amara left. Alex suggested booking hotel rooms and leaving the city the next day. Sam and Dean readily agreed — they desperately needed a break.
At the hotel, Alex rented three rooms, handed the keys to the brothers, and, pretending to be tired, trudged into his own room. As soon as the door closed behind him, he stopped pretending, stretched, and exhaled with relief.
After lying down for a bit, Alex scrolled through the latest news and texted the girls. That's when he learned that GIR, MIMI, Stitch, and Claptrap, along with Castiel, had… stolen his Impala and taken off somewhere. Reading that, Alex just rolled his eyes — he perfectly understood where this strange group was headed. He messaged the girls, telling them the group was off to catch Metatron.
After a few more minutes of chatting in the family group, Alex decided to check on Sam and Dean.
Sam was already fast asleep — the day had completely drained him. Dean, however, sat on the edge of the bed with a beer in hand, staring into space, trying to make sense of his feelings: what he felt… and why Amara had said once again that she wasn't the enemy.
Making sure no one was about to knock on his door, Alex got up from the couch, stretched his shoulders — and in the next moment, vanished without a trace.
He needed to talk to Amara while she was alone and unsupervised.
Alex appeared at the Seven Sisters Chalk Cliffs — atop the chalk cliffs themselves. Scanning the area, he spotted Amara: she was standing right at the edge, gazing into the distance and listening to the waves crashing against the rocks below.
She didn't move a muscle, enjoying the silence, the wind, and the steady rhythm of the water.
Alex approached slowly, sat down next to her — also at the edge, dangling his legs over — and lit a cigarette.
"Quite the trip you've taken. What made you decide to visit southern England?" he asked, exhaling smoke.
"I don't know. I just thought it looked like a beautiful place… so I came. And it really is beautiful, even at night," Amara replied softly, not taking her eyes off the horizon.
"Can't argue with that. It's mesmerizing. First time here for me too," Alex nodded.
Amara slowly turned her head toward him.
"I thought you'd been everywhere… considering who you are."
"I have been to a lot of places: different planets, different galaxies… even other universes. Some places have far more breathtaking landscapes," Alex said with a slight smile. "But that doesn't change a simple fact: there will always be places where you can just sit and enjoy the view."
Amara barely nodded, absorbing Alex's words. She too wanted to see the world — to see it all, as much as she had been denied experiencing. She could have done it long ago, if only one being hadn't entered this universe, pretended to be her brother, and trapped her in a cage — alone with her own Darkness.
Alex stubbed out his cigarette on the rock, lit a new one, and his thoughts involuntarily drifted back to the past: how lucky Amara had been not to go insane from that Darkness. Davoth, having lost his light, had become a monster… but Amara had preserved herself.
They remained silent, listening to the wind and the waves crashing against the chalk cliffs. Each was lost in their own thoughts.
"How's Dean?" Amara asked without turning her head.
"Dean and Sam…" Alex sighed. "They're two broken men. Chuck kept throwing them into the grinder over and over: test after test, disaster after disaster. He enjoyed watching the brothers dance to his tune. Every time they solved one problem, a new one appeared — bigger, heavier, harsher. Everyone they once considered family is gone: parents, friends… even the man they saw as a second father. They move forward only because they don't know any other way. And now they blame themselves that you're free. To them, you're a potential catastrophe that could destroy the world. And once again, they feel like they haven't saved anyone… only added to the list of victims caused by them. Dean struggles the most. Because of your connection, he can't even think about harming you. He's torn between seeing you as evil… and knowing he can't consider you the enemy. In the end, he buries it all inside, drowning it in alcohol. Trying to silence what he feels."
Alex lit another cigarette and flicked the lighter into the air.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Amara said quietly. "Chuck has twisted this universe beyond recognition… and I can feel it. The older my physical body gets, the more vividly I sense the world itself, the very fabric of reality."
She clenched her hands.
"There's so much Darkness here… Darkness brought by the beings Chuck brought into this world. And the most repulsive presence comes from one small town. I don't know what it is… but just the presence of this being fills me with nothing but disgust."
Alex closed his eyes.
"I think I know who you mean. This being came from the same dimension as Chuck. They both feed on negativity: fear, despair, human pain. They don't need light or darkness — they need suffering."
He leaned back, pressing his palms against the cold rock, staring at the stars.
Amara slowly sat down beside him, legs dangling over the cliff.
"But you still haven't said… why does Chuck consume universes — and me along with them? What's the point of it all?"
Alex smirked, though there was no joy in it.
"Chuck is afraid."
She frowned.
"Of who? What could scare someone who devours worlds?"
Alex lowered his head, resting his chin on his fist.
"Of the one who created him. We can't speak her name aloud… but I call her Nyan-Nyan. And we… have a very strange relationship. She created Chuck and other beings like him."
"Why?" Amara grew more confused.
"Out of boredom."
He smirked at the corner of his mouth.
"The place where Nyan-Nyan resides isn't pleasant. And she can't leave it. So she needed entertainment. She created avatars, planted the idea of betrayal in them, waited until they betrayed, then crushed them… so they could escape. She gave them the illusion that they could surpass their creator."
Alex shrugged.
"I accidentally met one of her avatars… and killed it. That's how it all started. She became obsessed with me. Why? I still don't understand. And as a result… she gave me a daughter."
Amara was silent for a few seconds, then exhaled slowly.
"I thought my relationship with my… 'brother' was complicated. But your situation is far worse."
Alex chuckled softly.
"You haven't seen my family yet. It's so tangled you'd probably prefer the cage. After meeting Nyan-Nyan, I gained one thing — work. A lot of work. And all I ever wanted was a peaceful life: traveling, family…"
He pulled a bottle of whiskey from his inventory.
"But instead, I deal with beings that try to devour universes. First, they drain everything — emotions, energy, life force. Then they finish off the remnants."
He looked up at the sky.
"Some would call Nyan-Nyan evil. But good and evil are subjective. She has existed since the beginning, when there were no moral labels. Only Order and Chaos… and an endless, exhausting war."
Amara listened to Alex in silence, and with every sentence, she realized that things were far more complicated than she had initially thought. Chuck, who had spent centuries playing with other people's fates, had himself become a pawn — part of someone else's spectacle, where any outcome meant death for him.
Alex poured whiskey into glasses and handed one to Amara. Despite her youthful appearance, the age of her essence long permitted her to drink anything. Amara carefully took the glass, sipped, and winced at the bitterness.
Noticing her reaction, Alex briefly explained which world the drink had come from. Amara looked at the amber liquid with surprise — it had never occurred to her that gods from other universes might also enjoy such drinks.
They sat on the edge of the snow-white Seven Sisters Chalk Cliffs and stayed there until the horizon began to glow with the crimson edge of the rising sun.
It was surprisingly easy for them to talk — like old friends.
Amara asked about the world, food, and places she might like to see. Alex answered, speaking of Japan, Greece, and bustling cities where one could try a thousand different dishes. All the while, she had to pretend she was searching for traces of Chuck, planning to settle the score with him.
When the first rays of the sun hit the sea, Alex said goodbye to Amara and returned to the hotel room.
No sooner had he crossed the threshold than there was a persistent knock at the door again.
Alex ruffled his hair, pretending to have just woken up, squinted, and opened the door.
"What's with the drumming so early? Can't sleep?" he muttered in a sleepy, annoyed voice.
"Sorry, I thought you were already up," Sam said, stepping back slightly. "Dean's ready. We're going to have breakfast before heading home."
"Okay… give me five minutes," Alex replied, yawning slightly.
Sam nodded and went inside, and a few minutes later Dean appeared — just as rumpled, as if awakened from only an hour's sleep.
Alex quickly washed up, changed, and soon the three of them were heading downstairs. After checking out of the hotel, they got into the Impala and drove to a local diner.
While the brothers ordered food, Alex bought plane tickets to Kansas and put his phone away.
"Amara ran off. Where do we even look for her now?" Sam asked unexpectedly, glancing at Alex and Dean.
"Don't look at me. I have no idea," Dean said tiredly.
"Me neither," Alex added. "We could track her before because Crowley constantly kept her in his sight. But now she's free. She could be anywhere — anywhere in the world. If she doesn't want to be found… we won't. All we can do is look for traces. Clues. Anything."
"So we're stuck again. Great," Sam exhaled heavily. "Failed again."
"We do what we always do," Dean said, cutting a piece of pancake. "Her power has been leaking into the world. She might try to regain it to grow faster."
"You think Amara will go for the power again?" Sam wondered. "If so, we can search the places where she left her marks. But how do we stop her? We don't have any weapon that can harm Darkness."
"Now we have a new job," Alex said. "Figure out how to defeat Darkness and prevent it from recovering. Maybe Cass has already pulled something from Metatron."
Dean raised an eyebrow.
"How do you know Cass found Metatron?"
"Cass, GIR, MIMI, Stitch, and Claptrap stole my Impala," Alex said, making quotation marks with his fingers. "It's not hard to guess where they went. Let's hope Metatron knows something. For now, all we know is that Amara is the oldest entity imprisoned by God. But how ancient and how powerful she is… we have no idea. And we don't even know if she can be killed… or if we should just lie down and wait for the end."
"Metatron should know," Dean said. "He recorded everything 'Big Daddy' ever said."
"Then let's finish eating — and go home," Sam said. "There's a lot of work to do."
After finishing breakfast, they headed to the airport, boarded a private plane, and three hours later were in Lebanon. Returning to the bunker, they found that Castiel and his new "crew" still hadn't returned.
Alex, meanwhile, went to see the girls.
He watched Samantha training with the katana. Alice was sitting on his lap, telling him about how they had spent their time without him. Alex shared impressions from their previous trip and, a little sheepishly, about the night on the Seven Sisters Chalk Cliffs, where he and Amara had talked until dawn.
Lucina, Alice, and Samantha exchanged glances — suspicion was written clearly on their faces.
Alex immediately raised his hands.
"No! No-no-no. Amara's not my type. She… well… she's more drawn to Dean. I'm sort of… like a friend-consultant to her, trying to help her start a normal life after all that mess."
The girls exchanged glances again, but seeing that he was truly not lying, they just shrugged.
Meanwhile, Alex kept glancing at his phone every few minutes — tracking the movements of Cass and his four crazy companions.
To be continued…
(So here I'll explain what happened up to this point in Supernatural, for those who haven't watched the show, or have watched but forgotten the details of Season 11. First, Sam's fault broke the Mark of Cain, unleashing the Darkness and inhabiting the body of a newborn child. Unbeknownst to anyone, this newborn became an embodiment of darkness and was named Amara. Afterward, a police officer who decided to adopt the newborn lost her soul and killed her grandmother. Then Crowley appeared and stole the Darkness, while Sam and Dean searched not only for Crowley but also for Rowena, so she could lift the curse she'd placed on Castiel. All of these events led Sam and Dean to the town of Fall River, where Amara was consuming people's souls to grow.)
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