Song Remains the Same

Chapter 129: The Queen, The King, The Pawns

"We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell."
- Oscar Wilde

Lebanon, Kansas

The inside of the warehouse was cool and damp, musty smelling. The large interior echoed when any sound was made.

"So you really think this'll work?" Sam sounded doubtful as he hauled a padlocked metal box to the center of the space.

Dean glanced up from where he and Alex were knelt nearby and unrolling a tarp-wrapped, headless body. "We've seen 'Young Frankenstein' about a thousand times, right?" he quipped gruffly. "Yeah, we're golden."

Sam sent a slightly perturbed little glance his brother's way, set the box down onto an old worktable, then recoiled immediately upon cracking it open. "Wh—ugh." He made a face as he looked at Abaddon's head and bloody neck. "This is disgusting."

"Uh-huh," Dean agreed, a little turned off by the fact that he and Alex had just gotten to Abaddon's body in the many layers of tarp. Dean glanced over at his sister, who was closer to the bloody neck part of the dead demon body. She looked positively disgusted. Dean chanced a teasing half grin. "Hey, isn't sewing a girl thing? Al? Wanna do the honors?"

He got a dirty look. "In your dreams."

Dean shrugged his mouth downwards, a silent fair enough. He drew out his machete and gave it a whirl. "Okay, let's see about un-handing this bitch."

Alex looked totally stumped. "Huh?"

"She wakes up, I don't want her to be able to reach out and touch, know what I mean?"

Sam looked mildly queasy nearby, but that was nothing compared to Alex's expression. "Sure, I guess."

Dean adjusted his grip on his blade. "Well... here goes nothin'." With a slightly sheepish look at his doubtful siblings, he set to work. He hacked off Abaddon's hands one at a time with terrible splats and crunches, and when he was done, he nodded toward Abaddon's top end even as he grabbed her ankles.

Alex grudgingly hooked her arms under Abaddon's armpits, her face screwed up the entire time they hauled the body over to a rickety metal chair. "This is so gross," she complained. "I'm seriously gonna throw up."

"Throw up?" Dean asked, sending a dubious glance at his sister as they set Abaddon's body into the chair. "Since when are you squeamish?"

She struggled to mind-over-matter her queasy stomach. "Maybe it was all the candy I ate earlier."

Dean nodded his sympathetic amusement. "I know that stomachache."

Alex shot him a flat look. "Trust me, you don't." Dean just chuckled at her misfortune as brothers often do. That only served to inspire more disgruntlement on her part. "Hate you," Alex muttered grumpily.

Dean, enjoying a brief moment of teasing and good-natured ribbing. "You love me."

Alex sighed, unable to quash a longsuffering little smile away. "Uh huh." The two siblings shared a brief fond look even as Sam gingerly carried Abaddon's head over to where Dean and Alex had set the corpse—he also had some sewing twine and a curved needle. He placed the head on Abaddon's body, then looked to his twin for help. "Can you hold this for me?"

Alex made quite the face but did as he asked. Nearby, their older brother was chuckling. "So uh... heads or tails?" Dean asked, his expression suggesting that he thought he was hilarious.