Hollowing Souls

The Girl with the Dungeons and Dragons Tattoo

July 22, 2012

Whitefish, Montana

The sun was slowly rising above the trees as Alex pulled the Marquis onto the dirt road leading back to the cabin. She glanced in the rearview mirror as she hit a pothole, wincing as she watched one of the grocery bags tip, but thankfully not fall off of the seat. However, she still slowed the car down, not wanting to spill its contents all over the backseat.

The winding road curved through the tall pines, obscuring the old cabin that lay straight ahead. It was only when she was within a hundred feet of it could the angel even begin make out its outline, even though she knew from memory exactly where it sat. She pulled the Marquis around the last curve and alongside the old Buick before she threw it into park.

"Sam?" Alex yelled the hunter's name as she retrieved the first large bag of groceries. "Dean? A little help?" Neither Winchester came, and the angel rolled her eyes. "Idiots," she muttered under her breath, but dutifully reached in and hooked her arm around the second grocery bag and lifted it up. Balancing each bag precariously on her hip, she made her way up to the cabin.

Her grace unlocked and opened the door for her, and she stepped over the threshold and almost straight into Dean. "Whoa." Hands went out to wrap themselves around one of the bags. "Let me get that."

"Thanks." Alex shifted the remaining bag to both arms and carried it over to the table. "What'd I miss?" Her gaze darted around the room, passing Sam, who was standing in front of the far wall on the phone, over the mess of articles and photos that hung on the wooden walls, and finally over Bobby Singer, who was standing over by the fridge. She flicked a wing in silent acknowledgement, surprised to see him; after Bodega Bay he had been gone for almost forty eight hours — "resting," he had called it.

"Yeah, I hear you," Sam was saying, frustration evident in his voice. "Alright. Well, thanks for looking. Yep, bye." He hung up and turned back to his brother. "So Nora didn't see any patterns in the dig sites either," he relayed, taking a seat on the old, worn couch.

"Nora?" Alex tipped her head. "Wiccan's Web Nora?"

Sam nodded, and Dean vocalized, "Yeah, that's the one." He set the grocery bag down on the table and walked over to his brother. "And I got nothing from local lore fifty miles in every direction of all of them," he added sourly. "I mean, it's like they're just . . . old dirt. What's Dick looking for?"

"It is possible that's just all that they are?" Alex offered fruitlessly, pulling a six pack of beer out of the bottoms of one of the bags and carrying it over to the fridge. "I mean, maybe they're just places he's going to bury stuff. George — the Leviathan from Portland," she explained when she saw the Winchesters turn in confusion. "He said that they were going to build, like, research centers or something. Maybe that's all this is —" She cut off with a small hiss as her stomach rippled with pain, a harsh breath expelled from her nostrils.

"You okay?" Dean looked up, eyes dark with concern at the sight of the angel bent in pain. "Pip?"

"I'm fine." Alex clenched her teeth, and then Lucifer's grace came alive, curling around her own, and the angel's eyes closed at the peace it brought to her own grace. "I'm fine," she repeated, this time with more conviction. She saw Dean shrug and turn away, and she closed her eyes. Balthazar hadn't been lying when he had said heats were unpredictable the first few times.

The lights suddenly flickered, and the temperature dropped. Both Winchesters got to their feet, guns drawn, and then Bobby spoke. "Hey hey, go easy, you idjits," he snapped when they pointed their guns at him. "Sorry for the jump scare."

"So how does this all work, huh?" Dean's voice was sharp to cover his agitation as he shoved his gun back into his pocket. "I leave the cap off and you genie your way out?" He picked up the flask and screwed the lid back on before tossing it back onto the couch.