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Summary
“So- so you’d basically be using some sort of sigil to mask our human souls from the Empty?” Sam’s voice interrupts Dean’s desperate train of thought and startles him back to the present.
“Yes.” Jack is nodding, smiling, all gap-toothed and kindergarten positivity.
“And the only parts of us the Empty would see are whatever dead leaves the angels and demons left in our gutters?” Dean raises his eyebrows.
“Exactly.”
He lets out a low whistle. There’s a living warmth finally coming back into his complexion. Not done yet, Winchester, still one more rescue mission. “It’s gotta be me. I’m going.”