Hollowing Souls

Out With the Old

The sun was rising across the lake, and Alex tugged her wings in tighter around her, watching the light slowly furl out over the water. Dean paced on the pier behind her, voice sharp with frustration, but he was too far away for Alex to make out each and every word. She knew he was talking to Frank Devereaux; and that was all she cared to know. Sam was taking a walk; Alex had spent most of the night out by the lake, but she knew Lucifer had kept the Winchester up for the better part of the night.

Footsteps approached, and Alex looked up. Sam was walking down the road, a cup of coffee in one hand, a newspaper in the other. Lucifer was nowhere in sight, and Alex scrambled to her feet, hurrying up the gravel path to greet him. "Hey!" she chirped, clearing her over-excited voice to get it back under control. "Uh, hey. How are you doing?"

"Tired, but I'll live."

"He's a crazy son of a bitch," Dean muttered, walking up to them and shutting his phone.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Frank?"

"You know, having a crazy total paranoid as your go-to guy, that's — that's . . . I don't know what that is." Dean shook his head and watched Sam take a long sip of his coffee. "What are you going for, like, the Guinness record of caffeine consumption? That's like your fifth this morning."

Alex looked up at Sam, concerned by that fact, but he only shrugged. "Yeah, well, every time I close my eyes, Lucifer is yelling into my head. It's like I let him in once, now I can't get rid of him."

"You know he's not actually . . ."

"Yeah. Yeah, no. I know." With forced humor Sam added, "Uh, try telling that to the volume control inside my brain ."

"Well, did you try the hand thing?"

"Yeah. Anyways, as long as I'm up, check it out." Sam handed the newspaper to Dean, and Alex shifted so she could look up over his arm. "They're saying drugs, but read between the lines. Sounds like she danced her own feet off. Might be our kind of thing."

Dean nodded. "Dancers," he grinned. "They are toe shoes full of crazy."

Sam and Alex exchanged looks. "You — and you would know this how?"

"I saw 'Black Swan.' Twice." Dean looked between his brother and the angel and immediately grew defensive. "Hot tutu-on-tutu action? Come on, guys. What's wrong with you?"

"Ew." Alex pulled a face. "Ballet is . . . no. Ugh. Why do the guys have to wear such tight pants? It's gross." She grinned when Dean rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

"Anyways. The case is in Portland, a couple hours away. What do you think?"

"I think we should." Alex immediately voted. "Come on. Someone danced their own feet off? How cool is that?" She moved towards the Firebird they had hijacked a few days ago, hand going to open the backdoor.

"Why not," Dean agreed, following after her. To Sam he added, "Maybe you'll get some sleep on the way."

"Yeah, maybe." Sam got into the front seat as Dean started the car.

Alex leaned in between them, a frown on her face. "I can maybe help you sleep," she suggested. "Might be able to knock you out."

She heard Lucifer's chuckle from beside her. "You really think your grace can compete with mine? Let's face it, angel; Sam's my little bitch."

Alex glared at him but leaned forward all the same, resting her palm on Sam's temple, pushing her grace inside his skull. She immediately felt Lucifer's grace like a wall, burning cold against her. It twisted around her, and she heard him chuckle before she was forcefully shoved away.