The search for all available information took not a few hours, but more than five agonizingly long days.
They were facing not only the task of killing the Clown, who turned out to be a cosmic entity from another dinsion, but also of disrupting three separate rituals that fanatics obsessed with the idea of an "ideal world" were planning to carry out almost simultaneously.
While Dean and Sam dug through the archives, Alex and Castiel were occupied with a far more subtle and dangerous task — figuring out how to pull off the trick of fixing Pennywise at a single specific point in ti while simultaneously restoring the boundary of reality in Derry in a way that Chuck wouldn't notice.
Because if Chuck realized that beings like Alex and Castiel — essentially children of the Creator himself — had appeared on his "playground," he would simply flip the board over and run. And that could not be allowed.
Compared to Chuck, Pennywise was nothing more than a child who had pulled on a clown costu and frightened people for fun. If he were truly as powerful as he wanted to appear, not even a curse would have been able to confine him to a single city.
But Pennywise was trapped in Derry. And Alex and Castiel ca to the obvious conclusion fairly quickly — why that was. Chuck simply couldn't allow a creature like Pennywise anywhere near his feeding ground. Too gluttonous. Too insatiable.
Both Chuck and Pennywise fed on human emotions, especially negative ones. Their favorite "dish" was souls steeped in fear. But where Pennywise acted like an instinct-driven predator, Chuck played the long ga.
That was precisely why he had drawn the roots of the World Trees into this universe, stitched it together from countless tilines, and turned it into one vast World of Fear. To feed. But first — to play. Just like Pennywise… only far more sophisticated.
Unlike the Clown, Chuck was an avatar of Nyarlathotep — the one who delights in manipulation. And the most amusing part was that Chuck himself didn't even realize he was being manipulated.
While making plans to kill Pennywise and simultaneously thinking about how not to draw Chuck's attention, Alex couldn't resist once again "complaining" to Nyan-Nyan about how she had released her avatars into the wild and planted the idea in their heads that they were capable of surpassing her and taking the throne of the Dinsion of Chaos.
In response, as usual, he received only laughter, declarations of love, and yet another statent about what a "cute daughter" they had turned out to have.
What surprised Alex was that Nyan-Nyan treated not only Nyaruko — to whom she was especially attached — but also his other daughters with complete calm. The one thing that truly reassured him was that Nyan-Nyan could not leave the Dinsion of Chaos without breaking the seal imposed by Azathoth himself. And that was sothing she simply could not do.
Only Yog could leave Chaos without much trouble — because she was both the door and the lock at the sa ti. And until Yog gave her consent, Nyan-Nyan would remain exactly where she belonged.
One day, when it beca clear that the shit was about to hit the fan, Alex and Castiel headed for Derry.
More precisely, they were about twenty kiloters away from the city. High in the sky, above the clouds. From there, the city was visible in its entirety. Alex and Castiel watched as Pennywise's influence spread through Derry, growing stronger with every passing mont as his awakening drew closer.
But the most unpleasant part was sothing else. The boundary of reality in Derry was far thinner than Alex had expected. If in ordinary places reality resembled a thick stone wall, here it was more like a thin sheet of paper.
Alex crouched right in midair, peering into the layers of the city's very structure.
"What do you think, brother?" he asked, thoughtfully stroking his chin. "Can we fix all of this without Chuck noticing?"
"If we act the way you always do," Castiel replied calmly, his hands tucked into the pockets of his beige trench coat, "the only option is to isolate the isolated space. Do everything carefully. Quietly."
"Hmm…" Alex narrowed his eyes, looking at the clouds drifting beneath his feet. "I think I've co up with a rather interesting way to pull this off."
"I'm listening very carefully, my dear brother," Castiel said, turning toward him. "The life of this universe is at stake. And just like you, I don't want to take risks until Chuck walks straight into your trap."
"Chuck is an idiot," Alex smirked. "He stitched together far too many tilines in this universe out of sheer greed. And we're going to use that."
He lifted his gaze.
"The Bureau of Control has equipnt for stabilizing space. They use it to create stable points inside the Oldest House. And the Oldest House itself is a shifting structure, yet at the sa ti a stable point across all tilines. You see where I'm going with this?"
"I think I do," Castiel nodded. "You want to use that equipnt to deceive Chuck's perception, and reinforce it with your own abilities."
"It's nice to know my brothers don't have mush instead of brains in their heads," Alex snorted. "You're right. We'll just give reality a little help… and then all I'll have left to do is beat the Clown to death."
"I'm not sure whether to take that as a complint or an insult," Castiel remarked evenly.
"Instead of worrying about your intellect, you'd be better off thinking about sothing else," Alex said, lighting a cigarette. "For example, about adopting Claire. And trying to give her a normal life. After all, you're walking around with her father's face."
"And with the face of the one responsible for her parents' deaths," Castiel replied quietly, shaking his head. "I don't think she'll be able to accept that."
"Just try to reach out to her," Alex said. "I'm not telling you to show up on her doorstep with a giant teddy bear like a father who went out for milk and ca back ten years later. You promised your past self you'd do what he couldn't. That includes taking care of Claire."
He stood up and clapped Castiel on the shoulder.
"Think about it. If you need advice, I'm nearby. And now it's ti for us to head back."
"Dean asked us to buy a pie… and so kind of burger," Castiel added.
"He's really getting on my nerves," Alex sighed heavily. "I should teach him how to teleport so he can go get his own pie."
Castiel only smiled, and in the next mont they teleported to Lebanon, Kansas.
The first thing Alex did was go into a store and buy a pie for Dean. Of course, it didn't end there — they also had to stop by a fast-food place to buy him a burger where, instead of regular buns, two sweet donuts were used.
Staring at this culinary abomination, Alex rely shook his head in silence. Only Dean was capable of eating sothing like that… and genuinely enjoying it.
A mont later, they were already standing at the entrance to the Bunker. Heading downstairs, Alex and Castiel saw Dean and Sam sitting in the library. Mountains of books, boxes of docunts, and diaries left behind by mbers of the n of Letters were piled up around them.
As soon as they stepped down, Dean lifted his head — and his gaze instantly locked onto the pie and burger in Alex's hands. Without wasting a second, Dean jumped up from his chair and snatched the food out of Alex's hands.
Alex once again let out a heavy sigh as he watched Dean start eating right there in the library, despite all of his persistent requests not to do that. Sam shot his brother an irritated look but stayed silent. He had asked Dean not to eat among the books so many tis that he was simply tired of repeating himself.
While Dean enthusiastically stuffed himself with a burger made of two donuts with three at patties wedged between them, Alex and Castiel wisely moved farther away. It was no secret to anyone that Dean was not the neatest eater in their group.
Sam glanced at his brother with clear disgust, then shifted his gaze to Alex and Castiel.
"Did you manage to find out anything?" he asked, ignoring the loud and extrely unpleasant chewing sounds.
"We checked all four locations," Alex began, thoughtfully stroking his chin. "Derry… how should I put this…"
"The town where a cosmic killer clown lives?" Dean mumbled, still chewing.
"That part is obvious," Alex replied dryly. "I an sothing else. The city itself is a separate ecosystem. Sothing like the Clown's personal feeding ground. Pennywise is part of the city, and the city is part of Pennywise."
He paused.
"That's probably why so little is known about what happens in Derry. People simply forget everything that happens there."
Sam nodded and turned his laptop toward them.
"This is confird by the Bureau of Control archives. Dr. Casper Darling studied this phenonon. All agents who worked in Derry lost their mories within a couple of weeks, as if they had never been in that town at all."
He opened another file.
"Several teams were sent in. The result was always the sa."
"Well, at least they didn't try to drag that clown into a lab," Dean shrugged.
"They did," Sam countered calmly. "In 1962. About fifty employees were killed. After that, Director Theodore Ash shut the operation down. Since then, the Bureau has simply observed the awakening cycles and counted the number of victims."
"So you're telling these idiots screwed up and then decided, 'Screw it, let's just count how many kids the clown eats next ti'?" Dean frowned, setting the burger aside.
"What choice did they have?" Alex sighed. "Back then, the Bureau simply didn't have the tools to deal with a being like that."
Sam closed the laptop and steered the conversation where it needed to go.
"Alright. The clown is clear. What about the other towns? Silent Hill, Shepherd's Glen, and Ashfield. Is there anything that might help us?"
Alex stood up from his seat.
"Things are much more complicated there," he said. "It's easier to show than to explain with words."
Alex walked over to the board and turned it around, preparing to begin his explanation. Sam swiveled in his chair, fully focused, while Dean kept chewing his burger, showing not the slightest interest. Alex picked up a marker and started drawing diagrams.
He rembered that Silent Hill existed in three forms. The first was the ordinary abandoned town that any person could see. The second was the so-called astral city, which one could enter by accident… or if the city itself decided to let you in. And the third was the Otherworld — a nightmarish reflection of reality, created by Alessa's consciousness.
Alex drew as he spoke, explaining every detail along the way. Fortunately, neither he nor Castiel needed to justify how exactly they had seen and learned all of this. After all, Castiel was an angel, and Alex… was still Death.
Sam listened intently, occasionally asking clarifying questions. Dean, however, lost the thread of the explanation sowhere around the middle and now simply ate in silence. Alex kept talking without pause, showing how all three forms of the city intertwined with one another, even though they were physically separated by Lake Toluca.
Of course, Alex did not ntion that the true cause of everything happening in Silent Hill was Alessa. He did not want Sam and Dean to know that. Alex intended to save her, give her a normal family and the childhood she deserved.
So he limited himself to a different explanation:
"Essentially, the mbers of the Order in Silent Hill and Shepherd's Glen created their own world. Only it isn't paradise. It's hell, where they will suffer forever, with no chance of escape."
When Alex moved on to explaining Apartnt 302, even Sam started to get confused — the underlying principle was that convoluted. But everything fell into place once Alex explained that the apartnt was directly connected to Walter Sullivan, literally being an embodint of his childhood trauma.
After that, Sam drew a simple and logical conclusion: Apartnt 302 was a nightmare world born from the mind of Walter Sullivan.
"But I still don't get it," Dean frowned, wiping his hands after finishing the burger. "How can so apartnt beco a 'Mother'? And what does it even have to do with the childhood trauma of a psycho who turned into a ghost?"
"Dean," Castiel replied calmly, before Alex could say anything. "The apartnt serves as the core of everything. It is a kind of door into the twisted subconscious of Walter Sullivan. A world created from his childhood trauma. Everything that exists there is a distorted image of places imprinted in the broken mind of an abandoned child who never knew where he belonged."
Dean rolled his eyes.
"Fine, let's skip the broken-childhood psycho nonsense. How do we even get into this apartnt? You can just drive to the other places. But this one — how?"
"I think I know," Sam said thoughtfully, standing up. "I saw a book sowhere… There was a spell for opening doors into the dream world. Or sothing like that."
Sam began rummaging through piles of books, boxes, and docunts. Alex and Dean joined the search. After about ten minutes, they finally found the right book.
Sam imdiately opened it to the correct page and began reading the passage explaining what would be required for a spell capable of opening a door into an alternate world. As he spoke, Alex silently nodded — that thod really should work.
If Alex were acting alone, he would have simply walked in. But Sam and Dean were still ordinary humans, which ant they had to follow the rules. Especially since the inhabitant of Apartnt 302 was himself part of the Ritual of the Twenty-One Sacrants.
Alex knew far more about what awaited them on the other side, but he chose to keep his mouth shut. Too much knowledge would only raise suspicion.
When Sam finished his explanation, Castiel confird that the spell would work. And Alex added bluntly:
"Alternative Apartnt 302 is, by its very nature, a Fold. You can enter it under certain conditions. Or create those conditions yourself."
"Alright," Dean said, leaning against the table. "Now we know how to get into this damned apartnt. But how do we kill this psycho? I don't think burning his remains will help much."
"I'm more worried not about whether we can kill him," Sam frowned, pulling the book describing the Ritual of the Twenty-One Sacrants closer. "But about the fact that Walter Sullivan has almost completed the ritual. He only needs six more victims."
"That's a bad sign," Dean sighed. "And the worst part is — we don't know who they'll be."
"I managed to figure out the pattern behind his killings," Sam continued. "For the first part of the ritual, ten hearts were required. He did that. Then ca the Rite of Holy Assumption. There's a thod described here… long story short — suicide through self-crucifixion at the birthplace of the god. If I understood the context correctly."
Sam showed them his notes.
"The one who hanged himself in the prison cell wasn't Walter Sullivan himself, but his double."
"Wow, Sammy," Dean smirked. "Great work. What's next, signing up for a school for future Sherlocks?"
"The last ten victims, as we already discussed, must et specific criteria," Sam continued, ignoring the joke. "He still needs six: Temptation. Source. Watchfulness. Chaos. Mother. And the last one — Wisdom."
"I can't even imagine how to look for them," Dean shook his head. Then he turned to Alex, who was typing sothing on his phone. "Hey, Mr. Death. Care to help? Maybe you can bend all this balance nonsense a little and give us a hand?"
Sam looked at Alex as well after Dean's question.
Alex lifted his eyes from the phone screen and looked at both of them — Dean and Sam — who were now waiting for an answer with obvious tension. He paused for a mont. Saving people whose deaths were already predetermined was not just difficult. It was almost impossible.
Alex closed his eyes.
The next instant, he was back in the Library of Life, at his desk — exactly at the mont when his clone was saying sothing to a Reaper. Alex waved a hand, signaling that they could ignore him, and imdiately moved on.
From mory, he found the Books of Life of the six people destined to beco victims of the Ritual of the Twenty-One Sacrants.
He quickly flipped through the final pages. Only two of them had different endings — Henry Townshend and Eileen Galvin. Even in the original tiline, their fates could unfold in more than one way.
Alex wrote the nas down on a sheet of paper. He found himself curious whether Dean and Sam would be able to save those whose deaths were literally written into the very fabric of reality — and do it without his direct intervention.
After a mont of thought, Alex smirked.
He tore out the final pages from the Books of Life of those who were destined to die.
Alex knew: if an ending no longer existed, it would be written anew. And now everything depended on whether Dean and Sam would succeed.
He opened his eyes.
Alex found himself back in the Bunker's library — just in ti to see Dean snapping his fingers in front of his face.
"Hey. Earth to Mr. Gloomy," Dean muttered.
Alex rolled his eyes and silently placed the sheet with the nas on the table.
Dean imdiately grabbed it, skimd over the lines, and passed it to Sam.
"Just so you understand," Alex began, tapping his fingers against the table, "saving these people is only possible if they end up in an alternative world. In reality, it's impossible. Walter Sullivan has already marked them."
He lifted his gaze for a second.
"He's simply waiting for the right mont. No matter where you take these people, he'll find them."
Sam frowned.
"Can't we just move them to the Oldest House?" he asked. "You said yourself that the entire building is an alternative dinsion. If they're under the Bureau of Control's supervision, we can clean everything up and disrupt the ritual."
"Unfortunately, no, Sam," Castiel replied calmly. "He'll find new victims. And then their nas will be unknown to us. The only way to stop the ritual is to kill the one who started it and prevent the birth of the evil entity."
Dean let out a heavy sigh.
"Well, nothing new," he said, placing the list of victims back on the table. "So we need to get into an alternative world, pull these people out, and keep them from dying. All while fighting God knows what along the way. Wonderful."
Alex nodded, confirming his words.
Of course, he didn't ntion that the alternative world held far more creatures — beings born from Walter Sullivan's distorted perception of reality. For a brief mont, he even considered capturing so of them… but imdiately shook his head. The Red City didn't need such residents. It would find new ones soon enough — in Silent Hill itself.
Alex wanted to prepare Sam and Dean for what awaited them, but he did so carefully. He released information in small portions, presenting it as speculation. Based on these hints, Sam built theories and plans, adjusting their strategy.
Alex noted to himself that with his presence, the brothers prepared far more thoroughly than usual.
And he liked that.
The entire process — gathering information, preparation, waiting — brought Alex almost genuine pleasure. Even knowing all the answers and understanding how it would end, he continued to enjoy the process itself.
The next day, Lucina, Samantha, Alice, Enid, and Wednesday returned. They managed to destroy the banshee, though not without problems. Because Alice was a vampire and Enid a werewolf, their heightened hearing suffered badly from the creature's scream.
When the girls returned, Alex brought them up to speed and told them what kind of journey lay ahead.
Enid and Alice were genuinely excited about traveling together as a group, completely ignoring what awaited them in the state of Maine. For them, the journey itself was what mattered.
Alex gave the girls a few days of rest — the Bureau of Control needed ti to deliver all the necessary equipnt to the required locations.
Alex, anwhile, had been tracking the movents of the Order mbers from Silent Hill the entire ti as they followed the trail of Harry Mason and his daughter Cheryl, now known as Heather. Constant reports allowed him to keep the situation fully under control.
Thus ended five long days of investigation before the work ahead.
The morning of the sixth day arrived.
Alex woke up wrapped in the tight embrace of Enid and Alice. The girls were holding him so firmly that he had to beco intangible just to gently slip out of their grasp. He looked at them, quietly chuckled, and decided to let them sleep a little longer.
Alex himself headed to the kitchen to make breakfast.
A trip to the state of Maine lay ahead, and Alex had already thought everything through down to the smallest detail. As he prepared breakfast for the whole group, a route was forming in his mind. The distance between Silent Hill and Derry was roughly a day's travel, which ant a decision had to be made: deal with Pennywise first, or settle everything connected to Silent Hill.
Thinking and cooking at the sa ti, Alex also bought plane tickets and added one pleasant bonus to the journey.
Gradually, everyone began to gather in the kitchen to have breakfast before the road. Alex inford them that the tickets were already purchased and that the departure was scheduled for twelve noon. In response, he received only sleepy nods.
He rely smiled and continued eating.
After breakfast, everyone began packing—no one knew how long it would take to resolve all the problems. A couple of hours later, the group was ready to leave.
GIR, MIMI, and Stitch complained the loudest. The reason was the usual one—they once again had to travel in pet carriers.
Alex and the girls got into his "Impala," while Dean and Sam took theirs. And the entire drive to the airport, Alex and the girls listened to the indignant shouts of the trio about how they were "not animals" and "demand respect." The three only cald down after receiving snacks and ga consoles.
Stopping not far from the airport, Alex stored both cars in his inventory, after which the whole group headed inside. The checks took very little ti—within ten minutes, they were already seated on a private jet.
"We still haven't decided where we're going first," Enid remarked, settling onto Alex's lap and burying her nose into his neck. "Hunting the clown or stopping the ritual?"
"I think we'll decide on the spot," Alex replied, stroking her back. "As much as I'd like to be in two places at once, we'll still have to choose."
"We could vote… or flip a coin," Samantha suggested, not looking up from the tablet she was watching a series on.
"A coin is an excellent way to decide who lives and who dies," Wednesday said dryly, not lifting her eyes from her book. "Voting is roughly the sa."
"I was just suggesting," Samantha shot her a gloomy look. "Now I feel terrible. Thanks, Wednesday."
"You're welco," Wednesday replied calmly. "I'm always happy to help soone feel bad."
"Then maybe you'll suggest an option, Wednesday?" Lucina interjected, crossing one leg over the other.
Wednesday thought for a second.
"I'd start with the clown," she said, pressing the book to her lips. "I'm curious to see a creature capable of manifesting your greatest fear."
"Do you really have sothing you're afraid of?" Alice asked in surprise.
"I want to find out," Wednesday replied, looking at Alex. "If he can manifest my fear, it'll be a good incentive to overco it."
Alex t her gaze and smiled faintly.
He understood perfectly what she was thinking. Wednesday had often said that attachnts and feelings were gateways to pain and tears. And yet, around him and the others, she remained herself—because they accepted her as she was.
Most likely, her fear was simple and yet the most terrifying of all—losing everything.
Alex turned to the window, watching the clouds rushing past beneath the airplane wing. He thought that no defective cosmic clown had the right to scare those he loved.
Let him just try.
A few hours later, the plane landed at the Maine airport. After collecting their belongings, the group headed for the exit. GIR, MIMI, and Stitch were leashed—they had categorically refused to get into carriers, so that idea was abandoned.
Alex led everyone to the parking lot, and the first thing they saw was a luxury motorho, more like an opulent bus.
"Soone travels in style," Dean whistled. "Alright, Alex, get my baby out. Ti to hit the road."
He turned to Alex, expecting to see the Impala.
"Nope," Alex smiled. "We're riding in comfort."
Lucina let out a heavy sigh and looked at him.
"My love…" she said. "You bought a motorho?"
Instead of answering, Alex pulled the keys from his pocket and clicked the lock. The doors of the large motorho swung open.
Lucina just sighed again and massaged the bridge of her nose.
Alice and Enid's eyes imdiately lit up—they wordlessly dashed inside to explore everything. Dean smirked, shoved his hands into his pockets, and followed at a leisurely pace. Every man's dream—a motorho—simply couldn't escape his attention.
Samantha smiled at the thought that Alex had sohow turned their work into sothing very much like a family monster-hunting road trip.
GIR, MIMI, and Stitch rushed in at once, racing to choose their spots, while Thing perched atop GIR's head like a captain on a bridge. Sam couldn't resist and went in after them, looking around with obvious interest.
"Wednesday, Lucina, co on in," Alex said with a smile. "We've got a long road ahead, and I wasn't about to rattle along in a car when we can travel in comfort."
Wednesday raised an eyebrow and headed inside. The only thing on her mind was whether there'd be a place for her typewriter. This trip promised to be a great source of material for her next book.
Lucina paused for a second, looked at Alex, who was glowing like a child with a new toy, and smiled. She fully understood that he was deliberately turning the whole journey into a family trip—and she was completely fine with that. It was far better than constant tension and expecting the worst.
Stepping closer, Lucina quickly kissed Alex on the lips and went inside.
Alex entered last and found the usual, yet still amusing, scene: GIR, MIMI, and Stitch were already tangled in a dispute over the "best spot," while Alice, Enid, and Samantha explored the interior with curiosity.
anwhile, Dean had already settled into the driver's seat, running his hands over it like he'd found a brand-new favorite toy. Sam took the passenger seat, testing the softness of the cushions with clear approval.
"I was thinking," Dean said with a smirk, "now we have our very own Mystery Machine. Just like the Scooby-Doo gang."
"We don't have Scooby-Doo," Enid noted, munching on a cookie. "There's more of us, and honestly, our ride is way fancier than their van."
"Minor details," Dean waved off. "The important thing is—the Mystery Machine."
Enid shrugged and settled onto the couch with a smile, continuing to crunch on her cookie.
anwhile, Alex was unloading things from the inventory, arranging everything in its place, and doing a final check. He stocked the fridge with food and drinks, made sure everything was ready, and only then tossed the keys to Dean.
"Your turn," he said.
Dean grinned, started the engine, and within a couple of minutes, the motorho smoothly rolled out of the airport parking lot. From the very start, everyone noticed how soft and easy the ride began.
Alex prepared drinks for himself and the girls and took a seat across from them. His gaze settled on Enid, blissfully eating her cookie with a smile.
"Enid…" he said slowly, taking a sip of his coffee. "Where did you get that cookie?"
"Wednesday gave it to ," Enid replied cheerfully, popping another one into her mouth. "It's so good. We'll have to get more on the way."
"Enid," Lucina said gently, "that cookie belongs to GIR, MIMI, and Stitch. It's… for them."
"They won't mind sharing," Enid said carefree, clearly missing the hint.
Alice covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to laugh.
"Enid," she said, "that cookie is for the dogs. And it's stolen."
Enid froze mid-air, cookie still clutched between her fingers. She slowly looked around at everyone, then at the cookie in her hand… and finally at the plastic container holding the rest.
At that mont, a storm of emotions ran through Enid—confusion, horror, and mild denial of reality. She shot a glare at Wednesday. In response, Wednesday simply acted as if she had no idea what Enid was talking about and had nothing to do with it at all.
Enid shifted her gaze to GIR, MIMI, and Stitch. They looked at her so expressively that it was perfectly clear without words: either she finished the cookie herself, or she returned it to its rightful owners. Alex, on the other hand, was slightly surprised. He was genuinely curious that Enid liked… dog biscuits so much.
After a mont of thought, he set his coffee mug on the table, walked over to Enid, took one cookie from the container, and without hesitation, popped it into his mouth. All the girls stared at him in open surprise. Even Wednesday raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Actually, it's not a bad taste at all. Don't see any issues," Alex said, shrugging. "Maybe Enid liked it because she's a werewolf."
"You're serious?" Samantha asked, embarrassed.
"Yeah. Want to try?" Alex held out a cookie to her.
"No, thanks. I'll stick with my coffee," Samantha replied with a smile, gently pushing his hand away. "Maybe soone else wants one?"
Alex looked at Lucina, but she simply shook her head calmly, making it clear that such culinary experints weren't for her.
Alice imdiately crossed her arms over her chest, clearly signaling that just because she could eat regular food now, it didn't an she was going to eat dog cookies. As for Wednesday, Alex didn't even glance at her—her answer was obvious in advance.
He just shrugged, took another cookie, and calmly chewed it. Surprisingly even to herself, Enid no longer felt embarrassed that she had been eating dog cookies all this ti, given to her by Wednesday.
"What are you even talking about?!" Dean shouted from behind the wheel of the motorho.
"That dog biscuits actually taste pretty decent," Alex replied with a grin, holding another cookie in his hand. "Wanna try?"
Dean turned his head, saw the cookie in Alex's hand, and his face imdiately twisted in disgust. Sure, he might eat sothing like that… but only if he were dead drunk. Sam just smirked and closed his eyes.
Alex shrugged again, sat down next to Enid, and wrapped his arm around her. She grinned mischievously and imdiately climbed onto his lap. Squinting slightly, Enid shot a sly glance at the other girls, clenched the cookie between her teeth, and leaned toward Alex to feed him mouth-to-mouth.
Wednesday's eyelid twitched. The other girls just shook their heads.
But Enid's happiness didn't last long. GIR, MIMI, and Stitch decided to reclaim what was rightfully theirs. After all, why had they conducted that late-night raid on the pet store if not for these treats?
Of course, they could have bought everything and even paid for any damages… but for them, stolen food was always tastier—especially if the theft included a little chaos along the way.
And that's how this trip began—with an attempt to prevent new nightmare events.
To be continued…
(While I was writing this chapter, I was debating whether to show that we have a dictatorship here and that we're going wherever I say. And regarding the voting, the votes are mixed; Derry essentially won, albeit by a small margin. And of course, I could have pretended there was no vote. But I thought about showing three storylines that would be connected to Silent Hill, and therefore, the Clown needs to be beaten and pissed on first, and then move on. As much as I'd love to show Silent Hill, I grew up on it and really like its lore. It'll go from shortest to longest. So next stop: Derry, or the story of how to catch a fleeing clown through the sewers.)
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