In the dimly lit motel room, Alex sat across from Dean and Sam.
By now, the brothers had come to understand some of the deeper truths about this world—especially the dire situation the mutants were facing, and the corrosive influence of an unknown cosmic entity wreaking havoc across the fabric of this reality.
They had arrived just in time to catch the evening news, which showed the aftermath of the devastating attack on Manhattan. The broadcast didn't pull any punches, showcasing the towering Wild Sentinel—an enormous machine that looked like a walking fortress.
When Dean and Sam saw the monstrous mech looming over the city on-screen, their jaws nearly hit the floor.
Honestly, they'd faced some pretty bizarre things in their lives—demons, angels, vampires, gods—but this was something else entirely. Against something that looked like a mobile death star with claws, they were at a loss.
"Jesus… This is what you guys have been dealing with?" Dean took a swig from his cold beer, his eyes still locked onto the screen, sweat beading down his forehead.
Alex gave a small wave of the hand, then raised his own glass. "That thing? That barely scratches the surface. What I'm dealing with now is far more complicated than you think."
Truth be told, Alex had really wanted to catch up with these two. But time was short, and there were bigger issues at stake. Wasting even a little time could mean ceding the initiative to the enemy.
Sam understood that too. He'd always had a good sense of when things were urgent.
"We heard some talk," Sam said. "That there are entities—stronger than anything this world's seen—pulling the strings. They can detect anyone with extraordinary abilities. That's why you came to us, isn't it?"
"That's all you've heard?" Alex paused. He had assumed Logan would've briefed them fully, but in hindsight, even Logan probably only had fragments of the truth.
"They shouldn't be called they," Alex said after a moment, setting his drink down. "They should be called Them."
"I know who these beings are—and they know who I am. That's why they're not showing up in front of me. They're wary. But it also means I have to stay off their radar, and I need a couple of seasoned hunters to investigate things I can't afford to touch."
Dean and Sam exchanged a look. There was something heavy behind their eyes—a mixture of pride and a touch of helpless amusement.
"I know you've got more powerful people on speed dial," Sam said with a smile. "But the fact that you thought of us? That means a lot. Besides, if it hadn't been for you back then, we wouldn't even be alive."
"Sammy, forget the sentiment," Dean cut in, downing the last of his beer and meeting Alex's gaze directly. "Alex is a friend. Helping friends? That's never a problem."
"So," he continued, leaning forward, "where do we start?"
"I'll give you a file on the essentials—history, politics, key players. This world's not like yours. The timeline, the power structures—they're completely different. The enemy's trying hard to force me into the open. That's why you two can't work directly with me. It's too dangerous."
"I'll run interference, draw Their attention. You two will work in the shadows. The rest is in your hands."
Alex understood exactly what the Dark Watchers were after. As much as he was hunting them, they were scanning for any trace of him. This game was all about intel—who could see more, move smarter, and act faster.
That's why Dean and Sam's movements had to remain invisible.
The Supernatural Dimension where they came from wasn't on the Watchers' radar. As long as they stayed sharp, they wouldn't trigger any alarms.
Seeing Alex glance over at him, Sam gave a small nod. Still, his brow furrowed slightly with confusion.
"I just want to know," he asked, "what exactly do you want us to investigate?"
"What do you mean?" Alex frowned.
"There's gotta be a general direction, right?" Sam spread his hands. "Back in our world, we usually start with victims—something in the papers, maybe a police report. We figure out what kind of supernatural entity is behind it based on the method of attack. Then we gather more intel. But this time… we haven't even seen a single victim yet."
"Haven't you?"
Alex raised his hand and gestured toward the window, projecting the cityscape outside for the brothers to see. A long sigh escaped his lips.
"Just assume this world is already dying. What I need you to investigate… is the cause of death."
The cause of the world's death.
Dean and Sam both shifted uncomfortably. In that moment, they felt the crushing weight of the task set before them. Of course—it was never simple when it came to Alex. While they had still been battling ghosts and demons, Alex had been out there saving worlds.
"Well then!" Dean slapped the table. "Count me in."
The moment they followed Old Man Logan through that portal, they knew there was no turning back. But it didn't matter—this was Alex asking for help. Saying no had never been an option.
The brothers slipped into work mode almost instantly. As soon as Dean gave the green light, Sam stood up.
"I'll go have a word with the guy running this place."
"So fast?" Alex blinked.
"You said time is tight." Sam set his unopened beer in front of Dean, already heading for the door. "And I need to get us some local ID info. We're still basically off the grid here."
Watching Sam's silhouette disappear down the hallway, Alex shook his head with a faint smile.
"True professionals."
If he'd had skills like that back in the day, he wouldn't have spent so much time scavenging with outcasts and vagrants.
Dean, unaware of Alex's thoughts, looked at him with a gaze full of meaning—a mix of respect and something heavier.
Under the weight of Dean's stare, Alex finally spoke. "What is it?"
"When I first started hearing rumors about you, I was honestly kind of pissed," Dean said as he cracked open Sam's beer. His tone was serious. Alex looked puzzled at first—but Dean's next words hit like a hammer.
"It's been seven years, Alex. Seven. You haven't visited Jo. You haven't sent word. Not even a 'Hey, I'm alive.'"
Alex opened his mouth—but no words came out.
He wanted to explain. Truly. But he knew it didn't matter. No excuse would be good enough. Yes, he had been running nonstop, fighting threats bigger than worlds themselves, never resting, always pushing forward—but that wasn't an excuse. Not really.
"I know you're busy," Dean said. "Especially after seeing what this world's become. But I hope you remember one thing: all this fighting, all this sacrifice—you're doing it for something."
Dean locked eyes with him, calm but firm.
"You might be more powerful than even the One Above All now, but I don't want you to forget—you're still human, Alex."
"The reason we risk our lives," Dean said quietly, "is for our families. Our friends."
"I understand."
Alex gave a heavy nod, his voice low but resolute.
"This isn't just talk, man. No matter what happens, once this is over—you have to go see Jo," Dean said with a sigh. "Ever since Ellen retired, she's been working solo. There are times even Sam and I can't get ahold of her."
"Ellen retired?" Alex raised an eyebrow. He had thought the mother-daughter duo were still out there hunting side by side.
Back when he left, Alex had secretly blessed Ellen and Jo with a trace of "Ancient Hero's Luck." It wasn't as potent as the twin Archangel blessings he'd placed on Dean and Sam, but it was strong enough to keep them safe. Hearing Ellen had retired caught him off guard.
Hunters usually didn't get to retire. The blood debts they owed to monsters and demons made it almost impossible to walk away clean. Even if they tried to vanish, the things in the dark usually found them eventually.
There were only two real ways to retire: death—or something so traumatic it left no other choice.
Seeing the confusion on Alex's face, Dean shook his head slightly.
"Nah, it's not like that. Ellen just got old. Tired of the endless bloodshed. So she went back to running the Hunter's Tavern."
"Oh." Alex finally relaxed. "Good. I just hope no dumbass creature gets the idea to mess with her."
Alex hadn't forgotten how the Yellow-Eyed Demon once destroyed the bar. If the wrong kind of monsters ever found out where Ellen was holed up, they wouldn't pass up the opportunity.
But Dean just chuckled.
"They wouldn't dare."
"Don't forget what you and the others did in that bar back then. It's legendary now. That place? It's holy ground for hunters. No creature—demon, vampire, or otherwise—has the guts to cause trouble there. Hell, even gods go there for a drink now."
"Gods?" Alex blinked. That was unexpected.
"Well yeah," Dean shrugged. "Technically, we're still enemies with most pantheons, but it's not black and white anymore. Some gods have changed. Some never went bad in the first place. These days, we even pray to a few of them when we're out monster hunting."
He paused, then added, "Times have changed. And honestly, we've learned to coexist with a few of them."
There was a beat of silence before Dean continued.
"Either way, we've got you to thank for how things turned out. That show of force back then? It shifted everything. Set a new standard."
Alex gave a faint smile and raised his glass. "We're friends, Dean. No need for thanks."
Dean didn't miss a beat. He raised his beer and clinked it against Alex's.
"Exactly. So don't thank us either. Getting the chance to jump dimensions and fight inter-universal threats? Man… that's a hell of an experience for me too."
.....
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