if we wanted, we could fall (part 7)

[wizened_cynic]

There were two of them, these Winchesters.

One was older and had the scruffy thing going on for him. The younger one wasn't exactly clean-shaven, but at least he did not look like a bear. He looked sad, mostly.

"Hello," Lorelai said, because somebody had to. Even if they were going to kill her, at least she was going to make it hard for them when they realized how polite she was and how delicious she smelled.

"This never stops being weird," the younger one mumbled, and the older one glared at him.

The younger one stopped and stood still, while the older one said to the witch, "How many of these are there?"

"More than you'll ever know," answered the witch, which was not exactly helping Lorelai. "You'll never find all of them."

The two of them glowered at each other, which Lorelai hated to interrupt because she did love a good glowering session, but she thought it was necessary to point something out. "Uh," she said, mostly to the younger one, because Ole Scruffy was still trying to murder the witch with his eyes, "you don't really need to point a gun at me. I'm a cookie."

The younger one blinked, and then turned to the other Winchester, who nodded and said, "It's all right, Dean."

"Yes, sir." Dean lowered his gun, but kept a suspicious eye on Lorelai.

"Is he your human?" Lorelai asked.

Dean went from suspicious to not knowing how to react. "What?"

"That guy. You listen to him. Is he your human?"

"He's my dad, and --- look. It's none of your business and I'm not talking to a cookie, okay?"

"Why not?" Lorelai asked. "I'm an excellent conversationalist."

The corners of Dean's mouth twitched upwards, which he tried to hide, but it was too late; in additional to being an excellent conversationalist, Lorelai also had amazing observational skills. And the uncanny ability to win people over.

"Stay here and watch her," Dean's father said, nodding at Lorelai. "Fiona and I are going to talk outside."

The witch's name was Fiona. Lorelai didn't think she looked much like a Fiona, but she realized it was probably not the appropriate time to comment on it. Instead, she asked Dean, "You want a soda?"

"No."

"You want a beer?"

This time, Dean hesitated before saying, tersely, "No."

"You want to sit down?"

Dean considered this and then shrugged, dragging a chair from the kitchen table and sitting down carefully, hands tight around his shotgun. Now that he was sitting down, it was even more difficult to talk to him.

"Ahem," Lorelai said, pointing at the table. "A little help, kind sir?"

"This is so motherfucking weird," Dean mumbled again, shaking his head a little, but he stretched out his left hand and Lorelai hopped onto it. He placed her on top of the table, even though they weren't quite at eye-level, at least Lorelai didn't need to strain her non-existent neck for a decent conversation.

"So, Dean," Lorelai said. "My name is Lorelai."

"Oh, god, it has a name."

"She!" Lorelai corrected. "I'm not an it. Just because I'm a cookie doesn't mean I don't have a gender, or feelings!"

"I'm --- really sorry, Lorelai. Almost as sorry as I am for the fact that I am actually talking to a cookie. Wow, today is not a good day."

"Why do you want to kill me and my kind?"

Dean looked surprised for a moment, but the moment passed, and he went back to somber. "My dad and I, we're hunters. We hunt monsters. Save people."

"But I'm not a monster."

He looked at her long and hard. "You're a talking cookie."

"But I'm not a monster."

"Cookies shouldn't talk . . . or walk . . . or offer people soda. It's not right. It's not how the way it works around here."

"Who made you the boss of everything?"

"Look," Dean said. "Lorelai." His smile was sad; everything about him was sad. He needed a cookie, Lorelai thought. She would volunteer, but she already had a human she loved. "I don't make the rules."

"Your dad does?"

"You don't know anything about my dad. Or me."

"I know you want to kill me, even though I never did anything to you."

Dean didn't say anything.

"I don't want to die," Lorelai said. It was funny how less than an hour ago, dying hadn't even been on her mind. Now it was the only thing she could think about. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to leave Alex. She didn't want to never be able to dance or eat chocolate chips or watch Paula Deen deep-fry cheesecake or ride in Alex's bike basket again.

But mostly she just didn't want to leave Alex.

"I need to look after her," Lorelai told Dean, who was staring at her like he couldn't believe a cookie could take care of anybody. "She needs me."

"That's what I thought too, sweetheart," Dean said, his voice cloudy and mean, "but guess what? Maybe you're just overestimating how much he needs you."

"She. Alex," Lorelai corrected again. This guy had a lot of trouble with his pronouns.

"Whatever."

It was silent for a long time, and then Dean said, quietly, "I'm sorry."

Before Lorelai could tell him that she did not accept his apology, Papa Winchester and the witch came back into the kitchen. Dean's shoulders straightened immediately and he jumped out of the chair.

It's time, Lorelai thought. Goodbye, Alex. I wish I'd told you how lucky I was to be your cookie.

The witch clapped her hands together and tried to sound cheerful. "Well, well. I've got some good news. Looks like your daddy and I came to an acceptable compromise."

"I'm listening," said Lorelai.


*

Alex had packed her lunch that day --- a peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwich, which Lorelai considered the only acceptable kind of sandwich ---- because she was tired of the greasy Chinese food from the place down the block, and she was fairly certain the pseudo-sushi at Tokyo Joe's could very likely lead to cholera. She finished her sandwich in ten minutes, washed it down with a bottle of diet Snapple, which tasted the way the office felt, artificial and watered down, and went out for a walk. Not that there was anything much to see or do in this town, in the whole great state of Wisconsin, even, but she needed to stretch her legs a bit and the company encouraged its employees to get some fresh air during the day. "Keeps the suicide rate down," the head of HR had explained during the office Christmas party.

When she got back to her cubicle, Margaret was there, looking anxious. Alex took this to be a very bad sign, since Margaret was rarely anxious about anything, having developed the trademark laissez-faire attitude of someone who had worked in the same place since college graduation, in practically the same position, for practically the same pay.

"Thank god you're back, Emily," she said, pressing her hand against Alex's arm. "Your alarm company called. There's been a break-in at your place or something --- I'm not a hundred percent sure on the details, but I know they've called the police."

The first thought that crossed Alex's mind was: Lorelai.

She realized how ridiculous it was afterwards, on the drive back to her house, one of dozens in her subdivision. Nothing would happen to Lorelai. She was smart; she knew where to hide. If it was burglars, then they would be only after her money, her valuables,and she didn't have any.

If it were Velez's men --- well, they would be after her, not Lorelai.

The police were waiting in her driveway, so she circled the cul-de-sac and parked by the curb. There were three of them: two men, one older, one younger, both scowling, and a woman, who was glaring at them. Only in the suburbs would they send three cops to a break in. In New York, there would be a team of uniforms and CSU and at least one of them, usually the rookie, would look somewhat interested in what was going on.

"Miss Saunders?" the older man said as Alex stepped out of the car. "I'm Detective Morgan. Your alarm company recorded a breach earlier this morning and called the police. We've been investigating a chain of B&Es in the neighborhood and were immediately put on the case."

Alex shook his hand, but instead of reassured, it only made her heart pound faster. She didn't care what any of these people had to say. She just wanted to get back into the house and see that Lorelai was all right.

"Now the good news is ---"

"Let me deliver the good news," snapped the woman, who didn't seem like his partner, Alex thought. She knew what partners were like, knew how they behaved around each other. Something was off about them --- and the third guy, the third guy just looked like he wanted to disappear.

"Fine," said Morgan. "Detective Ferris will take it up from here."

Ferris scowl turned into a smile as she took Alex's hand and said, "The good news is, nothing appears to have been stolen. It seems like that alarm of yours scared these guys off. But the bad news is that a couple of glass panels on your back door are broken and will need to be replaced."

"I work for an insurance company," Alex found herself saying. "It'll be fine."

Morgan took charge again. "Do you want Officer Ackles here to take you back inside, walk you through the house? We've already gone inside and checked there's nothing out of the ordinary, nobody hiding in the closet or anything. But we'd be glad to accompany you inside for some peace of mind."

"It's all right," Alex said, wondering when this insipid conversation would ever end. "I just want to go back inside. Sorry."

"We understand," Morgan said. He handed Alex a card, which she shoved into her pocket without looking. "If you need anything, just call."

She went in through the back door. There was broken glass all over her kitchen floor and she carefully stepped through it into her kitchen, which was exactly like the way she had left it this morning, dishes in the sink, the knife still smeared with peanut butter.

"Lorelai," she called softly, as she made her way through the house. "Lorelai, where are you?"

Usually Lorelai would be watching TV in the living room when Alex came home, but to be fair Alex had very little idea of what went on in her house during the day. Given the messes she had found from time to time, everywhere from the front porch to the attic, Alex knew Lorelai had a way of getting around and into trouble.

The living room was empty, Lorelai's usual place on the sofa abandoned.

"Lorelai," Alex said, louder, trying to think of places where a six-inch cookie would hide.

There were lots of places where a six-inch cookie would hide.

Lorelai wouldn't go into the basement, because the spiders, or rather, the expectation of spiders scared her, but Alex checked anyway.

Nothing.

"Lorelai!" Alex could no longer keep the panic out of her voice.

It could be that Lorelai had just fallen asleep wherever she was hiding; didn't that happen, often? Didn't parents report their children missing only to find them having fallen asleep in the dryer, or gone over to the neighbor's house without saying? Alex remembered Olivia being called in the middle of the night once, because a frantic mother had found her toddler missing and sworn that her ex had kidnapped him. The kid was found snuggled in a nest of dirty laundry in his mother's closet.

It had to be the only explanation, because burglars, because Velez's people, they wouldn't come all the way to Nowheresville, Wisconsin to take Lorelai; they wouldn't even know about Lorelai.

But wasn't that the point in most kidnappings? In order to get someone to comply to your demands, you kidnap the person they cared about most?

"LORELAI." This time it was almost a scream.

Alex found her upstairs, on top of Alex's bedspread. She was propped up against Alex's pillow, grinning that gummy grin like she always did.

"Oh, thank god," Alex said, her moment of relief short-lived as she remembered to be angry. "Why didn't you answer me earlier?"

Lorelai didn't say anything, and that's when Alex noticed something was wrong.

Her smile was fixed and frozen, her eyes lifeless and cold. Alex reached out and touched Lorelai's arm, the one that had been broken and put back together.

It was cold.

"Lorelai?" Alex said again, quietly, as if being calm and rational could make things right again. "Lorelai, answer me."

Lorelai just smiled.


Part 8



Note: YES THIS IS YET ANOTHER SUPERNATURAL CROSSOVER.

FYI, the Winchesters in here are not the usual Winchesters, i.e. incestuous brothers Sam and Dean. The Winchesters in here are Dean and his dad John, also known as Jeffrey Dean Morgan. This takes place during the time Dean is really upset over Sammy abandoning him to go to Stanford. Dean has a lot of manpain.