Chapter 14 — The Slice Girls

"Morning," Sam greets when Dean sits up in the passenger seat. It was one of the few times he was able to drive, even if it was their latest stolen car and not the Impala. Addison was stretched out in the back seat, asleep. She coughs and he watches as Dean glances at her with a concerned look. Sam frowns when he notices his older brother take out a familiar flask and takes a swig from it. "Is that Bobby's? I didn't know you kept that."

"Yeah, mine sprung a leak," Dean replies, taking another swig. He glances into the back seat, only to find Addison still asleep.

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

"Shut up, man. I'm — I'm — I'm honoring the guy, all right? This is, uh, grief therapy, kind of like you and your wild goose chase."

Sam frowns. "Wild goose chase?"

Dean scoffs. "Yeah."

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

"Yeah, well, some guy with a foot fetish run amuck."

"Grown men thrown so hard they went through walls." Sam tosses a newspaper at his older brother "Did you — did you even read the article?"

"No, I was napping."

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

"Make sure Ads doesn't die."

Sam sighs. "She's got the flu, man. Addison is going to be fine. She's even said so herself."

"Except Ads doesn't get sick. She never has. And since Dick Roman's a dead end for now, we need to figure out this bloodline—"

"Which is also a dead end, Dean," Sam interrupts. "We've both gone through Patrick's research and there's nothing there. And Sarah isn't returning any calls or texts. So, unless you know an angel that would actually help us, we're at a dead end on that too."

"Do the fucking case, Dean," Addison mutters, loud enough for them to hear. She coughs and pulls the stolen motel room blanket closer. "You're driving me insane. I'm fine. My birthday was three days ago and the only thing that's happen is that I got the damn flu. So, do the fucking case." Dean takes another swig from Bobby's flask. Sam sighs, knowing that was the only thing he was gonna get out of his brother for the time being.

The boys watch as the local crime scene tech pulls out the drawer with the latest victim on it. A symbol was carved into his chest and his hands and feet has been expertly cut off. "The latest, but probably not the last," the crime scene tech tells them. He looks between the boys. "You guys always work this late?"

"Hours suck," Dean answers. "But, uh, great benefits package."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Ten percent co-pay on all drugs."

"Seriously?" Dean nods. "Oh, but just generic, right?"

"No, no. Name brands are cool."

"Huh."

"Yeah."

Sam clears his throat. "So, what's our boy here weigh?"

"Uh. A buck ninety. Thrown against a wall so hard it bucked. Based on the blood flow at the crime scene, the hands and feet were cut off while he was still alive, just like the others. The killer wanted him to suffer."

"And all vics are male, right, with the same kind of, uh, artwork as this," Dean questions.

"Yeah. Identical."

Sam pulls out his cell phone and snaps a picture of the symbol. "So, uh, DNA left at any of the scenes?"

"All of them. One before this, the guy bit the attacker. Still had a chunk of flesh in his teeth when he came in. That's about as good as it gets."

Dean nods. "Right."

"So, we have a match," Sam asks.

The crime scene tech sighs. "We do not." He hits a button on his computer and a window pops up. "The samples were rejected. The genetic markers don't match anything we've ever seen."

"Didn't match any person in the database," Dean asks.

"No, I mean they don't match anything human."

"Hmm."

Sam nods. "Thank you."

"I'll admit it could be in the general vicinity of the ballpark of our kind of thing," Dean says, as they walk out of the forensics' office.

"Yeah, uh, 'didn't match anything human' usually seals the deal for me," Sam counters. "I don't know, I've never seen this symbol before." He touches Dean's shoulder and his older brother looks at him. "Let's get a bite to eat, go back to the motel, haul out the laptop."

"That's a great idea. Actually, that's a brilliant idea. Here's my counter. You do that, I'll go undercover, go mingle amongst the locals and see, uh, what kind of class bubble to the surface."

Sam scoffs. "You're going to a bar."

"Wow. If you want to oversimplify it."

Sam sighs as his phone buzzes. He looks to find a text from Addison. He looks up to find Dean walking out the building.

Sam walks into the motel room and finds Addison hunched over her laptop with books spread out on the table. She had a blanket draped over her shoulders while she wore her old Yale sweatshirt and a pair of fleece pajama pants. "Please tell me you brought soup and NyQuil," she asks, not bothering to look up.

"Along with plenty of ginger ale," Sam replies, setting the back down on the table. "You should be resting, Ads."

"It's the flu," Addison defends, grabbing the cold medicine out of the bag. She shoots him a smile. "Besides, I'm just doing research. Where's Dean?"

Sam sighs. "Going undercover."

Addison shakes her head in amusement. "Of course he is. At least I get the bed to myself tonight." A silence settles over them. "This may be the copious amounts of NyQuil that I've taken it, but, um, why is that you and me never worked out?" He shoots her a confused look. "Like romantically? Cause you know how we…"

"I think we were just looking for some kind of comfort, Ads. Or an escape. And with everything that I was doing with Ruby, I wanted something normal." He shifts. "You don't have—"

"Oh, God, no," Addison quickly interrupts. "No, no, no, no, no. I mean, I love you like a brother…minus the us sleeping together part."

Sam laughs. "I feel the same way."

Addison smiles. "So, what'd the medical examiner have to say?"

Sam shoots Addison a concerned look as they walk towards the police station. She had insisted on joining him to check out the latest victim's crime scene. "I'm fine," Addison tells him for the umpteenth time since they had left the motel. She wraps her arm around Sam's arm. "And in case you haven't been able to tell you mostly fit the victim profile. So, I'm not letting you go any where by yourself."

Sam chuckles. "Fifty percent of the population of Seattle fits the victim profile, Ads."

"Hot guys," Addison corrects. "They were all incredibly good looking men. Which you are one of, Sammy. Well, except you're not in your thirties. And I'm sure the victims have much more in common, but the cold medicine isn't helping me on that front."

"What the hell are you doing here," Dean asks, joining Sam and Addison as they reach the building.

"You look like shit," Addison counters, smirking.

"Yeah, well, I feel worse than I look. Which is more than I can say for you, Ads." Dean turns to his younger brother. "I do recommend the Cobalt Room, but the way. Awesome night. Although I think I'm getting too old for this."

"You mean manwhoring? Yeah, you are."

"You did not take enough cold medicine this morning." Sam shakes his head in disbelief at their bickering. "Did you, uh, figure out that symbol?"

"No. Um, we're gonna need an expert," Sam replies.

"Expert? Our expert's dead. And Ads' is currently stoned off of cold medicine. By the way, why the hell is she here?"

Addison rolls her eyes as she untangles from Sam. "Uh, to protect Sam. Cause he fits the victim profile of hot guys."

They watch as she walks over to a police officer standing outside the building. Dean turns to Sam with a look of disbelief on his face. "Seriously?"

Sam shrugs. "She wanted to come and wouldn't take no for an answer."

They flash their badges at the officer and walk into the apartment building. Upon entering the latest victim's apartment on the fifth floor. Blood covered the floor, walls, and furniture in the apartment. The victim was lying on the floor. His hands and feet were cut off while the symbol was carved into his chest. "Well, nice decor. Very early slaughterhouse," Dean says, looking around the living room.

"FBI," the crime scene tech tells the blonde woman next to him.

Addison flashes her badge. "I'm with them," she says, motioning to the boys.

"This is Charlene Penn. She's the lead on the case," the crime scene tech introduces.

"More of the same. No forced entry. Thrown across the room. Made to suffer. Both hands and feet cut off," Charlene tells them.

"And the same symbol as the others," Addison states.

"Whoever the killer is, the guy's a monster," the crime scene tech adds.

"Excuse me," Charlene says, then walks out of the living room.

"This guy's just like the last one. Early thirties, decent looking," Dean questions. Sam glances around and watches as a man walks over to a police officer standing outside the apartment.

"Yeah. Just like the first three, you know? Fairly successful, no known enemies," the crime scene tech tells them. "Here." Dean and Addison follow the crime scene tech over to the kitchen while Sam walks over to the police officer.

"Excuse me. I got it," Sam says, flashing his badge to the man. "How can I help you?"

"I was just trying to find out what happened," the man replies. "Jerry was a friend."

"I'm very sorry. Jerry was killed sometime last night. You live nearby?"

"Yeah. Two doors down."

"You, uh, you know anyone who would want to harm Jerry?"

"No. He was the nicest guy in the world. Well, his — his wife wasn't real happy with him."

"Why's that?"

"A few nights ago, he has a little one night fling. Ann found out, took off. But…she would never do anything like…" the neighbor trails off.

"Yeah, of course. Thanks." The neighbor walks down the hallway and Sam turns as Dean walks over to him.

"Who was that," Dean questions.

"Neighbor. Said the vic's wife caught him cheating," Sam explains.

"Yeah, but we're not thinking it's the wife."

"Not unless she benches three-fifty and did the other guys as a warm up."

Dean moves to take out his flask. "Shit. I left Bobby's flask at Lydia's."

"Who's Lydia," Addison asks, walking over to the boys. They duck under the crime scene tape and walk out of the apartment.

"My workout partner from last night. Now, I've got to go get it."

Addison scoffs as Dean pulls out his cell phone. "It's a miracle, Sam. Dean actually knows the name of a one night stand. And he's actually gonna call her."

"Fuck off," Dean snaps.

Addison laughs. "It's so sweet. She even gave you her number."

"They always give a number." Dean hits the call button as Addison and Sam exchange an amused look. "Lydia. Hey, it's, uh, Dean from last night. Uh, listen, I think I left something over at your place. It was an old flask. It doesn't look like much, but it has sentimental value. So, uh, have you seen it? You want my number? Oh." Dean hangs up and turns to Sam and Addison. "She's real busy."

"Mhmm," Addison replies, pulling out of her iPhone. "Anyway, I've seen that symbol somewhere before. I just can't remember where. Give me a few hours—"

"You're going back to the motel," Dean says, grabbing Addison's phone. "And you're gonna watch shitty daytime tv and not work on this case while we go find an expert who's not stoned on cold medicine."

"I'm fine," Addison argues, reaching for her phone.

"No, you're not." Addison stares at him, anger written in her amber eyes. "Don't give me that look. You're sick. You shouldn't even be here."

"Can I have my phone back so I can get an Uber to the motel," Addison coldly demands.

"What the fuck is Uber?"

"Give me my phone, Dean!"

Sam sighs and steps forward. He never got in between them when they were fighting, but he noticed the local police watching them. "Look, Ads, we'll take you back to the motel and you can research. No more crime scenes," he says. Dean starts to open his mouth. "It's just research, Dean. We'll still go find an expert, but it can't hurt to let Ads research. So, can we go before you two get us banned from any other crime scenes?" He motions to where the police were watching them.

Sam sets a cup of coffee down by Addison's laptop as he listens to the ringing. He had returned to the motel room earlier and found her fast asleep, using one of Bobby's books at a pillow. After putting her in his bed, which was the only space not covered in books, he had set to doing his own research. "Hey, where are you," he asks once Dean answers his phone. "It's a flask, not the Holy Grail."

"Hey, man, I'm a people person, all right? I'm engaging in some social skills," Dean replies. "By the way, how is the Holy Grail doing?"

Sam rolls his eyes and glances at Addison as lets out a loud snore. "Sleeping."

"You get anything out of Morrison?"

Sam sighs. Professor Morrison was the expert he had found and they had visited earlier before Dean went to retrieve Bobby's flask. "No. Not yet. Look, would you get back here? We're due at the crime lab. Dean?"

"Hang on."

"Hey, look, why don't you just…" Sam trails off realizing that Dean wasn't listening. "You there? Hello!"

"Let me call you back." Sam sighs and shoves his phone in his pocket.

Addison frowns as she sits down at her laptop with a cup of tea. The files Sam had gotten from the police department about the other murders over the country were spread out in front of her. Sam had filled her in on everything that he had learned earlier that day. "So, what," Sam asks, after Dean finishes explaining what he had seen earlier that day. "I mean, so maybe she has another kid she didn't tell you about."

"Nope, just the one. Emma," Dean counters. "But that night, when I was with her, she didn't have any. And I was at her place. There were no playpens, no blankets, no rubber ducks."

"Like you would've actually noticed that stuff," Addison amusedly says.

"Hey, that's the first thing you notice. Red flags. Then, all of a sudden, boom — baby."

"Yeah, the one that you thought talked," Sam says.

"Oh, it talked. And not baby talk, either."

"Now, you know so much about child development?"

"I know enough to know that they don't say 'Hey, Mom. Who's that guy?' So, cut to Lydia's handing this kid, who's calling her mommy, over to these two women, right? But this is not a baby. No, no, this kid's got to be five. And same name — Emma."

"You know, George Foreman named all his sons George," Sam tells him.

Dean glares. "Are you deliberately messing with me?" Sam shrugs, shooting Addison an amused smile. "Dude, I know weird. Okay. There is no non-weird explanation for this. This morning, Emma was a baby. By sunset, she's Hannah Montana. Early years."

Sam's cell phone rings. "It's the Professor."

"Oh. Good. The Professor. Yeah, I'm sure he'll crack this wide open."

Addison sifts through the papers and finds a copy of the symbol. "I remembered where I saw this symbol." The boys exchange a surprised look and she rolls her eyes. "Anyway, it's Ancient Greek."

"And you just remembered this," Dean questions.

"Yeah, it's called being sick, dumbass. Do you wanna hear what I found or not?" Dean motions for her to continue. "Anyway, its associated with the Greek goddess Harmonia. Now, after Harmonia and Ares got their incest on because Greek gods slept with everyone they were related to. I mean, they didn't care how they were related—"

"Ads!"

"Sorry. Ares and Harmonia hooking up created the Amazons."

Sam frowns. "The Amazons?"

"Like Wonder Woman," Dean questions.

"More like Wonder Woman while she's still on the island Themyscria. And much less friendly to men. This symbol is used in worship to Harmonia. The legends of the Amazons go back forever. They had absolutely no use for men except to have babies."

"All the vics were male," Sam says and Addison nods. "And their hands and feet were cut off."

"Yeah. See, the Amazons, after they got knocked up, they would kill their baby daddy by cutting off body parts. Now, that's the normal stuff. I remembered that from my Ancient Greek class. There's a completely crazy side to the lore."

Dean pulls out Bobby's flask and takes a swig. "How does this get more crazy?"

"Way back in the day, the Amazons were in a war and they lost big time. I mean, their population was decimated, so they make a deal with Harmonia to rebuild their population and make them stronger."

"Well, I'd say throwing grown men through walls was stronger."

"Uh, yeah. The Amazons basically became monsters."

"Can you kill them like humans? Or is there some kind of trick?"

"Nothing I looked through says anything. My guess is since they lost so many people in a war with swords and arrows, you can kill them like a regular person."

"What else," Sam asks.

Addison takes a deep breath. "The lore says they reproduce within thirty-six hours. Amazonian babies grow super fast, then their aging process became normal. That's how they were able to build up their population so fast in wars. And their mating cycle is every two years. All the women who are of child bearing age are sent out to help grow their ranks."

"Which lines up cause this happens every couple of years in different towns, right," Dean questions.

"And we know for sure that at least some of the vics hooked up with strange women days before being killed Amazon style," Sam finishes.

"Hooked up in the same bar I met Lydia, right?" Addison nods. "And then suddenly, she's got a little baby in like fruit-fly time. That baby turns into a little girl just as fast."

"Wow. So maybe you're, uh, you're—"

"Don't say it."

Addison sighs. "Dean, if that kid is yours—"

"I said don't say it!"

"Fine. We won't," Sam tells him. "But, Dean, dude, seriously, a one night stand, you're just gonna roll the dice? You don't even—"

"Of course not. Sam, what do you think I'm brain dead? Accidents happen. If one even did, which I-I-I don't think…" Dean trails off and Addison rolls her eyes when he smiles. "No. You know what? We're — stop. We're not gonna talk about this anymore because my skin's starting to crawl!"

"All right, fine. But if it's true, if it happened…"

"I know. I got to hang on to my hands and feet," Dean finishes, then takes a swig from the flask.

Addison crosses her arms over her chest as she turns to Dean. "So, what bullshit job did you tell Lydia that you did? Because all the victims were good looking and very successful. And you don't fit the very successful part."

Dean shifts. "Well, she may or may not have thought I was a rich investment banker."

Addison and Sam exchange an exasperated look. "I'm gonna take a shower," she says, standing up. "And after that I'm going to bed. Because I'm exhausted."

Silence settles over the room as she walks into the bathroom. Dean takes a swig from his flask and turns. Some of the books that Addison had been looking through were spread out on the bed. He frowns, realizing that some of the papers on the bed had moved. And there was only a piece of paper sitting on top of a book. "Sam."

"Yeah," Sam says, looking up from the research Addison had done.

"These papers just moved."

"What?"

"I didn't touch them."

Sam grabs the EMF meter out of his bag. He turns it on and the alarm immediately goes off. "It's all over the place," he says, walking around the room. The red lights on top stay lit up. "Redline. Redline. Oh, and power lines by the open window, where there's a breeze that could have moved the papers." He turns off the EMF meter and shoves it in his pocket.

"Did you feel a breeze?"

"It doesn't matter, Dean. The readings are useless."

Dean holds up the flask. "Hey. Maybe, uh…"

"We burned him, Dean."

"So, what?"

"So, what are you suggesting?"

"I don't know. What are you?"

"Concentrated on something else."

"Why?"

"Because it's not Bobby!"

"Could be."

"No, it couldn't be."

"Why not?"

"Because we want it to be," Sam snaps, grabbing the piece of paper off the bed.

"Maybe it's useful."

"It's in a pile of 'maybe it's useful.' Besides, it's in Greek. Other than Ads, nobody reads Greek."

"Yeah, except Greeks. Oh, and Bobby."

Sam grabs his jacket and shrugs it on. "And Professor Morrison."

"Really? Ads will be out of the shower in a few minutes. She'll translate it."

"Addison who just said she was exhausted," Sam replies. "No. We're gonna let her rest. I'm going to Professor Morrison's, Dean. You stay here, keep the door locked. Don't go anywhere. I mean it."

"Fine."

Dean looks up from Addison's laptop when she sits down with a bowl of soup. Her wet hair was pulled into a messy bun while she wore a pair of sweatpants with one of his button down shirts. The glasses she rarely wore were perched on her face. He runs a hand over his face and turns his attention back to her laptop. "We need to do laundry."

Addison sighs and pushes the bowl away. "You need to stop being so over protective, Dean. I'm fine."

Dean shakes his head. "Ads."

She stands up and moves around the table. She gently cups his face and forces him to meet her gaze. Her hands are cool against his skin. "I'm fine, Dean," she softly tells him. "If I wasn't, I would've said something."

He closes her laptop and slides it back. Addison starts to move back, but he grasps her hips. Dean pulls her against his chest. His hands slide under the shirt she was wearing. She stares up at him. He leans down and brushes his lips against hers. A knock comes from the door and he pulls back. Dean picks up his gun and cocks it. A knock comes from the door once more and he starts towards it. Addison grabs his arm and shoots him a warning look. He presses a soft kiss to the top of her head, then walks over to the door.

Dean pauses for a moment, then takes off the chain and opens the door. A teenaged girl was standing in the hallway. She had dirty blonde hair and green eyes. "Hi. You don't know me, but my name is Emma. I need your help. I think I'm in trouble and you're the only person I can trust," she tells him.

"Why," Dean questions.

"Because you're my father."

"How'd you find me?"

"They've been watching you, ever since Mom got pregnant."

"Well, if you're such a prisoner, you mind telling me how you escaped?"

"I waited until lights out. The women who watch over us change shifts a little after 10:00."

"Uh huh. And you left because…"

"They stick you in there and you trust them. It's all you know. And you don't question what they want you to do…terrible things. That's why I had to leave. They tortured me." Emma holds up her wrist and he sees the symbol branded on her wrist. "They told me I had to endure pain so I could be strong like them. But I don't want to be like them."

"Okay. Come on in." Dean moves back and Emma walks into the room. Addison was still by the table and he knew she had her own gun hidden on her. He closes the door and puts the security chain back in place before tucking his gun in the back of his jeans. "Have a seat." They watch as Emma sits down on Sam's bed. "Okay. Let's assume that you're not like them. Yet. what do you want us to do?"

"Get me away from here. You're a good man. My mother told me that."

"I seriously doubt she said that. And if you knew me, you would seriously doubt it's true."

"They told me you're a hunter. So maybe you'll understand about me. Maybe you can protect me. Just long enough so I can get away. Then I'll leave you alone. I know you don't want me."

"All right, let's not go there, okay? This isn't a matter of…" Dean trails off. He runs a hand over his face. "You get this isn't a normal situation, right?"

"How would I know? Three days ago, I wasn't even alive. Now here I am. My mother threw me into that place. And my father…well…you get this is my last chance to have anything normal ever, right?"

Dean sighs. "You look exhausted."

"And starving. It's been a tough sweet sixteen. So you believe me?" Dean crosses his arm and nods. "You'll help me?"

"If you really want help."

Addison steps forward. "What happens when they find out you're gone?"

"They may have already found out. And they'll hunt me down," Emma tells them. "Look, I know this is gonna be hard, but if I'm gonna get out, I have to do it now."

Dean walks over to the refrigerator and opens it. "We got cheese and a leftover burrito."

Addison watches as Emma stands up. Her hand goes to the gun hidden in the back of her sweatpants when she sees a knife drop into Emma's hand. "Doesn't make a difference," Emma calm answers.

Dean close the refrigerator door and grabs his gun, aiming it at Emma. "You were asking if I believe you."

"I was told you'd be a challenge," Emma replies. She glances at Addison. "I didn't know you'd have someone else here."

"I figured you'd chat me up. Try and catch me off guard. Almost worked. I was expecting your mother."

"It's not her place. I have to kill you."

"I knew I missed something," Addison mutters.

"Is that what they told you," Dean questions.

"It's what I am," Emma says.

"Well, then, I should just kill you right now."

"Sure. But you could have done that thirty seconds ago."

"It's weirdly hard, isn't it? It is for me."

"Knock it off."

"How could it not be? You're my father."

"Hey! We're not gonna do that."

"But it's true. You're the reason that we're standing here. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. So, now someone has to kill someone. You know what? So far, my childhood's been kind of disappointing."

"You haven't killed anybody yet, Emma. Walk away. Right now. I won't go after you."

"I can't. I don't have a choice." The door bursts open and Sam enters, gun drawn. Emma looks at him, then turns back to Dean. "Please, don't let him hurt me." Emma turns to Sam and he fires. She falls to the floor, a pool of blood slowly forming. The boys exchange a look.

Addison clears her throat. "You need go after the rest of them. Before they realize that Emma isn't coming back."

Addison tenses when she hears footsteps near her. Her hand goes to the back of her jeans and she lets out a relived breath upon seeing Sam. After the boys had discovered that the Amazons had vanished, they had quickly packed up and left Seattle. Somewhere between Seattle and Portland they had stopped to burn Emma's body. They were currently stopped somewhere along the highway that ran along the coast of Oregon. Unable to sleep any longer, Addison had quietly climbed out of the car and was currently sitting on the beach. He doesn't say anything as he sits down next to her.

She leans against him and he wraps an arm around her shoulders. "You're sick," Sam reminds. "You shouldn't be out here."

"I got a life size heater to keep me warm," Addison amusedly tells him. She rests her head on his chest. Sam chuckles. "Dude, you are."

"It was pretty amazing you managed to do all that research while you're essentially living off of cold medicine, ginger ale, and soup."

Addison shrugs. "I had a lot of free time." She sighs. "I'm worried he's gonna do something stupid." Sam tightens his grip on her. He doesn't reply, but presses a soft kiss against the top of her head as a silence settles over them.