Hollowing Souls

Repo Man

June 25, 2012

Coeur d'Alene, Idaho

"It's nice. Kind of like a men's room with beds."

Alex rolled her eyes, dropping her bag on the far bed of their new motel. Ever since Wichita, Lucifer had been getting more and more persistent, sticking around for longer and showing up whenever he could. The soles of Dean's boots clicked on the tile floor as he paced to the other side of the room, unaware of the devil's presence.

She glanced up to see Lucifer scrape some of the green algae off of the far wall, carefully studying the build up on his finger. "Mmm," he hummed delightfully. "Avocado grime."

On the other bed Sam paid him no attention, instead busying himself by pulling out a stack of manilla folders they had picked up from the police station on the way in.

"Takes years to build up a patina like this." The devil stuck his finger in his mouth, tasting the grime, and then he suddenly flickered and disappeared.

Alex glanced over at Sam, who was digging his thumb into his palm. "Thanks," she mumbled, rolling her eyes. "Even for him that was disgusting."

Sam nodded, and Alex sat down on the bed, looking around the room. Admittedly, Lucifer had been right about his assessment of the place; it was disgusting. The floor was a dusty, brash mix of brown, green, and dark gold tiles. The wall across from the bed was a dark wooden panel, but the rest were a nasty yellow-green tile with a slightly darker colored mold in the grout. Her grace curled unpleasantly, and she shook her head in disgust.

"What do you mean you can't find him?" Dean walked back over to Alex and dropped his duffle bag down beside her. "It's Dick Roman. Turn on CNN. Didn't you see him at that, uh, press conference down in Phoenix? That bastard's everywhere."

Alex shook her head again, getting up off of the bed to reluctantly check out the bathroom, leaving Dean to his conversation with Frank Devereaux. "You sure? No, I—I—I don't care that they've infiltrated the luxury boat industry, Frank."

Alex snickered, which immediately died into a frown when she flicked on the bathroom lights. Mold and fugly tile.

"Great!" She heard Dean snapped, his patience stretched to the limit. "Call Kanye." Alex heard his phone snap shut, and she turned off the lights and stepped back into the main room.

"Frank still stumped on Roman?" Sam guessed from his bed. The manilla folders were lying around him, each one open to the first page.

"Yeah. Alright, let's do this." Dean sat down on the bed across from his brother, and Alex cross the room to join them.

"Okay, um, look at the victim profiles." Sam motioned to the two autopsy photos of bloodstained women. "Same age, same hair color, body type. The ritual mutilations line up exactly."

Dean grunted in agreement, and Alex tipped her head. "Yeah," she began, "you mentioned you'd worked a case just like this a couple years back." Alex sat down on the bed beside Dean, pulling her wings and legs in close.

Sam nodded. "Four years ago, same town. A demon was killing women. We caught him, grilled him for intel on Lilith, then exorcised him."

"Who down there would have let our demon out of the can?" Dean wondered, his face twisted in puzzlement. "He squealed on his superiors. We made sure of that. I mean, he should be down under until, uh, trumpet day." He got up off of the bed and walked over to the cooler, and Alex watched as he retrieved two beers. "Want one, Pip?"

Alex shook her head, and Dean returned, handing one to his brother. Sam continued, "Yeah, except two women were killed in the last two weeks, same parts missing, I mean, same old hunting grounds, even."