Hollowing Souls

Slash Fiction

April 2nd, 2012

Whitefish, Montana

Alex fell into a dreamless sleep, and when she awoke it was day. A lazy sweep with her grace told her that the hunters were downstairs with the Leviathan, who didn't feel to be moving. With a yawn, Alex got up, leaving Castiel's trench coat bunched up by her pillow. She hurried down the rickety wooden stairs to see all three standing around the headless body which was currently propped up in a chair. "Morning."

They turned. "Morning, Princess," Bobby greeted gruffly before turning back to the situation at hand. "Any ideas of how to keep him from running off?"

"Where's the head?"

"Over there." Bobby motioned to a wooden box on the table, already lined with an array of tools and weapons. "I want to get some intel out of him, maybe figure out if there's another way these bastards can die."

Alex nodded and walked over to them, eyes running over the Leviathan. "Chain him down," she suggested.

"Could probably pretty easily break those chains."

The angel's face twisted in thought. "Let's cut off his limbs," she finally said. "He can't fight back if he can't move." She felt the surprised looks the Winchesters gave her and shrugged. "I mean, unless you two got a better idea. Cause, yeah. Chains ain't gonna hold him for long." She picked up a large saw. "So you two want in, or do you want to go upstairs?"

Both Winchesters immediately left.

It wasn't as hard as Alex thought it was going to be. She and Bobby worked in tandem, cutting the limbs at the joints and discarding them in the metal trunk at the other end of the room. The corpse bled, of course, but for some reason the black goo was far less disgusting than actual blood. Finally Alex pulled off the last leg and deposited it in the trunk, stepping back to let Bobby lock it up. "Fun," she grunted. "I'm going to smell like Purgatory for years."

"Go take a shower," Bobby suggested. "I'll chain him up and then me and the boys will put the head back on."

"Yeah, sounds good. See you in ten." Alex bounded up the stairs, shaking out her wings. She paused by the back room, gaze falling on the trench coat on her bed. "The things I do for you," she muttered lightheartedly before heading for the bathroom.

...

She hurried back downstairs after her shower, shaking her wings out as she clambered down the stairs, and momentarily wished she was back in heaven where the water would actually stick to her feathers and wash away the dirt and grime. She slid to a stop to see the Leviathan chained to the chair, limbless but with a head. Her feathers ruffled out in distaste, and she curled a lip when their eyes met. She took a quick moment to study the creature, which looked human in all respects, bar the area of his neck that was still stained black with goo from when his head had been removed. His brown hair was cropped very short, and beady black eyes stared at her from the sides of a sharp nose and thin lips.

"Alex." Bobby's voice had her relaxing some. "Meet Chet."

The angel's gaze remained stoically cold, but she dipped her head in greeting. Then she let out a small grin as a thought struck her. "Nice to meet you," she vocalized, stepping forward. "I'd shake your hand, but . . ."

"Fuck you."

Alex raised her eyebrows. "Maybe later," she quipped back. "Unless we cut that part off too . . ."

"Alright, alright. Shut up." Dean held out his hand to stop Alex. "Just — stop." He looked over at Bobby. "So?"

"So I'm going to see what makes him die." Bobby looked over at the array of tools beside him. "Why don't you guys go get breakfast?" he eventually suggested. "Like Feathers said, he ain't going anywhere."