Hollowing Souls

The Slice Girls

June 10, 2012

Seattle, Washington

Dean groaned, and Alex raised her head, peering over the seat to look at the two hunters. Sam was driving, Dean passed out in the passenger seat beside him. The hunter looked away from the road as his brother stirred. "Morning," he said, and Alex pulled herself into a sitting position, pulling herself out of her inner thoughts.

Dean groaned out a "Hey," looking around the darkened car. He shifted into a slightly more comfortable position before reaching into his jacket pocket, and Alex heard the sound of metal against metal, followed by the faint whiff of alcohol.

"Isn't that Bobby's?" Sam asked, motioning to the flask his brother held. When Dean took a long drink he added, "I didn't know you kept that."

"Yeah, mine sprung a leak."

"You know, most people would carry a — a photo or something for a memento."

"It's a little weird," Alex concurred, leaning against the seat. She rolled her shoulders back as she moved, letting her wings rustle through the car, accidentally brushing against their heads; neither of the Winchesters, however, took notice of them. "You know his lips touched that, right?"

"Shut up," Dean grumbled. "I'm — I'm — I'm honoring the guy, alright? This is, uh, grief therapy," he added to Sam, "kind of like you and your wild goose chase."

Sam snorted in amusement. "Wild goose chase?" he repeated disbelievingly.

"Yeah."

"Four guys murdered in two weeks, hands and feet cut off."

"Yeah, well, some guy with a foot fetish run amuck," Dean grumbled, slipping the flask back into his jacket pocket. Alex snorted in amusement at his statement; she had read the article herself, and it seemed a little extreme to be a fetish.

Sam wasn't as amused. "Grown men thrown so hard they went through walls. Did — did you even read the article?" Sam pulled the newspaper off of the dashboard and literally shoved it into Dean's chest.

Dean reached up to grab at it, surprised by the sudden motion. "No," he retorted, "I was napping."

"Well, anyways, what else you got going on. Dick Roman's a dead end for now, you might as well —"

"Stay busy," Dean recited with his brother. "Yeah, I know, I know." He shoved the newspaper onto the seat next to him, turning his head to look out the windshield. "Where are we?"

"About half an hour from Seattle. We'll be there by 11:30 or so. Swing by the coroner's, check out the latest body, see what we can find out. That okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine." Dean settled back down into his seat, closing his eyes. "Wake me when we get there."

...

Forty minutes later Alex followed Sam and Dean into the King County Medical Examiner's Office. "Edward Taylor?" Sam held out his hand to a young, curly-haired man. "We spoke on the phone?"

"Agent Wilson." The man's eyes flickered over the three of them, a warm-hearted smile on his face. "Uh, yeah. And it's just Eddie. Right this way." He led them into the examiner's room and wheeled out a body from the locker. Alex watched as he pulled back the clean, white sheet to reveal the body of a man. His hands and feet were cut off just above the joint, and the angel shifted closer to note that the wounds were clean cuts, most likely done in one smooth motion. In his chest was carved a sigil. Two semi-circular marks curved away from each other, and a circle in the middle of one was connected to where they joined by a line, giving the mark an almost humanlike figure. A strange, smaller mark lay below, and the angel tipped her head in confusion as to what it meant.