Hollowing Souls

Plucky Pennywhistle's Magical Menagerie

Alex hurried down the sidewalk, headphones tucked in her ears and grocery bags tightly held in her hands. Her wings were hanging loosely across her back, feathers prickling uncomfortably as the hot, unrelenting sun beat down on her back. She hurried up the small hill and crossed the motel parking lot, unlocking the door to her room with a flick of her grace. It swung open to reveal the two Winchesters inside, and as soon as she entered she kicked it closed. "We need cash, guys," she announced, setting the bags down on the table and tugging her headphones out of her ears. "I mean, we're running on fumes here."

Dean looked up from where he was laying on the bed, laptop on his chest. "What'd you get?"

"Whatever was cheap and on sale." Alex dug through the first plastic bag. "I hope you like coffee ice cream."

Sam's shoulders dropped in disappointment and disbelief. "You didn't."

"No way." Dean got off of the bed, eyes as wide as a child's on Christmas Day. Alex chuckled and handed the container to him, and Dean grinned. "You're awesome."

"You're ridiculous." Sam shook his head. "Didn't you get anything healthy?"

"Hey," Alex retorted. "Healthy stuff is expensive. Seriously. You guys need to get out to a bar and get some cash or something."

Sam rolled his eyes, and Dean reluctantly put the ice cream down on the table. "Well, we're heading out anyways. Frank's suppose to check in at the rest stop along the Idaho. Maybe he's got something on Dick. We have to leave in the next hour or so."

Alex looked down at the food she had boughten and shrugged. "Good. We'll just save this for the road. And it's about time we're getting out of here," she added. "I don't like this neighborhood. Too . . ." She ran her tongue along the back of her teeth, searching for the right word, "innocent." She shrugged again before walking over to her bed. "When are we leaving?"

...

A sharp wind blew through her hair, and the angel drew it back over her ear, reaching back to tighten her ponytail. She was sitting on the hood of the Jeep, leaning against the windshield, and Sam stood beside her, flipping through the national newspaper. Dean was about fifteen feet away in a payphone, and she could hear him through the glass. "Seriously, Frank?" he was asking, mouth twisted downwards in a frown. "Pay phones? I mean, come on. I — I'm getting the clap off of this thing just touching it." He paused, and his eyebrows raised. "Fred Savage? Really? Yeah, I know, big-mouths are everywhere." He paused once again, and Alex met his gaze before he looked away. "Uh, well, since you asked, some actual intel on the Dick Roman guy would be nice."

Alex leaned over Sam's shoulder, turning her attention away from Dean. "Anything?" she asked curiously, wide eyes flickering over the array of headlines.

Sam opened his mouth to answer, but just then Dean stepped out of the payphone and crossed the dirt parking lot to stand in front of them. "I hope he finds something quick," he told them with a scow, his green eyes darkening. "This whole protocol du jour thing's really creeping my cheese."

Alex made a questioning noise at the phrase, and Sam asked, "So we got dick on Dick?"

"That's a vivid way of putting it." Dean rolled his eyes, but turned his attention to the newspaper in his brother's hand. "You find anything on Wonder Woman?"

"No, and there probably won't be." Sam didn't sound disappointed; then again, they all knew They are definitely gone. But . . ." Sam turned the newspaper to the fifth page and held it up, "I might have found something in Kansas."

"Alright, well, let's do it. But, uh, a few simple rules, okay? No babies." Sam and Alex grinned at those words, but Dean wasn't done. "In fact, no baby mamas. No bars. No booze — no hot chicks of any kind." Dean walked past them to get into a second, older car.