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Somebody Else's Problem

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"Hey, handmaiden," Charlie says as soon as Dean picks up.  "There's this weird news report and I thought it looked like your kind of thing, so get out your writing implement of choice."

"Uh, sure, hi," Dean says, and flips over his paper placemat with one hand while fishing in his pocket for a pen with the other.  Sam, slumped on the other side of the booth, perks up just a little when Dean mouths Charlie at him, but he doesn't have the energy for much perking these days.  "OK, hit me."

"Two different reports," Charlie says briskly.  "Both in bad parts of town.  Light shows, big ones, complete with broken windows and mysterious noises."

"OK, that sounds bad," Dean says.  "Angels, maybe."

There's a brief pause and then Charlie says, "How is this my life?  Anyway, both times, by the time the cops got there, nothing left but the bodies."

"Eyes burned out," Dean says, wincing in anticipation.

"No," Charlie says, drawing out the word.  "Is that really a thing?  That's really a thing, isn't it?  Don't tell me if that's a thing.  No, their eyes were fine.  It was their heads.  Chopped clean off."

"Oh, those guys," Dean says, and sets his pen down. 

"Those guys?" says Charlie, in a tone of extreme skepticism.

"Yep," Dean replies, a little more cheerful.  "We call 'em the beheading guys."  (Sam rolls his eyes and mutters, "You call them that," which Dean loftily ignores.)  "They're some kind of weird all right, but they only go after each other so mostly we just don't bother.  Also they're hard as hell to kill unless you take the heads off, no one's ever found a bullet that'd do more than annoy one."

"Oh," Charlie replies, a little faintly.

"Bobby used to talk to a couple of the guys who keep an eye on 'em," Dean goes on.  "They have some super-secret tattoo or something, it's kinda funny."

"Says the man who lives in a secret bunker," Charlie says, and Dean grins into his phone.