Hollowing Souls

The Mentalists

Alex carried her meal out of Ribshack, delicately balancing her food in one hand, her drink in the other. She followed Dean down the rows of cars, frowning when they passed the dusty hatchback. "Dean . . ." She looked over to see him checking her phone. "Dean."

"Switching cars." Dean stopped beside an old blue sedan, nodding appreciatively.

Alex followed his lead, running her gaze across the car. "Challenger?" she guessed, voice rising in pitch to show her uncertainty.

"You're getting good." Dean put his food down on the roof and pulled out a long car lock-pick. With a quick glance around he slid it down between the door and the window, fidgeting until the door popped open.

Alex peered into the door, lip curling up at the amount of garbage that was sitting on the passenger seat. "Gross, man." She yanked open her own door when Dean leaned across to unlock it, brushing the trash onto the floor with a disgusted swipe. She sat down with a bump, pulling her food close while Dean placed his meal on the seat beside her.

"Geez," Dean agreed. "Have some pride." He reached under the car, and Alex dug out a waffle fry while the hunter hot-wired the vehicle.

The engine purred to life seconds before the car was filled with a loud voice. "Ooh!" a voice boomed. "That makes me hungry!"

Alex reached out to turn down the deafening volume while Dean pulled a pair of fluffy dice down from the rearview mirror and tossed them into the backseat with a noise of disgust.

"You're listening to the morning chaos with me, Banana Foster!" the radio continued.

"The hell I am, ass-hat." Both Dean and Alex reached to turn the channel, already done with this man's show. However, they paused at what she heard next. "And now for the news of weird — two very odd murders, to be exact. Mediums are dying in Lily Dale, the most physic town in America! So if you want to know your future—"

The voice suddenly cut off as Alex turned the radio off. "Is it just me, or does that sound like a case?" she asked as she pulled another fry free.

"Lily Dale's in New York. We can be there by tomorrow morning." Dean looked over at Alex, and she held out the fry, pushing it against his lips until he took it, grunting out his confused thanks.

"Alright then. Lily Dale it is."

...

April 14th, 2016

Lily Dale, New York

Twenty four hours later Alex was leaning against the hood of the Challenger, wings flicking in distaste at the electrical charge in the air. "I don't like it," she finally said when Dean walked into earshot. "Too much . . . something. It's fucking with my grace."

"Well, we get in, we get out. Shouldn't be too hard. I'm thinking witches." Dean opened the car door and got in, leaving Alex to follow.

"You sure this is a good idea?" Alex eventually said, glancing over at the Winchester. "You know, you walking straight into a crime scene? With cops? Or have you forgotten that you were on the FBI's most wanted less than a fortnight ago?"

" 'Fortnight?' " Dean repeated scoffingly. "Who says fortnight anymore?"

"Yeah, besides the point, Winchester."

"We'll be fine. They're not going to suspect an FBI agent. Besides, you'll be there. They'll be looking for someone like Sam, not you."

"That really doesn't console me."

"You sure you don't just want to go look at the body?"

Alex snorted in amusement. "The nearest morgue is twenty miles out. I think I'll just stay here with you." She turned her attention out the window, watching as the town past by.