Fire and Smoke

Keep Calm and Carry On

April 3rd, 2016
Collingsburg, Pennsylvania

A crack of thunder split the darkened sky, opening up the heavens and sending its torrent down upon the roof of the 1971 Mercury Marquis. Raindrops rolled down the pale blue paint, pausing to gather upon the rusty wheel wells before falling onto the cracked pavement below. The car inside was dry; the tan, sun-cracked leather creaked beneath its occupant's weight, a sound that was lost beneath the idle hum of the engine and the soft thrum of the speakers.

It was parked, its balding tires brushing against the concrete curb that lined the suburban street. Most of the surrounding houses were dark and silent; occasionally, headlights would cut through the rain as a car rolled past, an early commuter on their way to work. None of them took notice of the old Marquis.

Alex sat in the front seat, her black wings pressed between her back and the leather interior. The feathers, once full and soft, had been stripped to little beside the bare vanes which dug into her skin, itching through her clothes. Her fingers gripped the keys, still sitting inside the ignition, but her eyes were fixed upon the house across the street. It was the only home with the lights on; if Alex focused, she could see the shadows of a figure moving behind the drawn blinds. She knew who that person was — her grace told her that much, but she hadn't yet dared reach out far enough to brush against him. If you leave out that door, you're not walking back through. Dean Winchester's promise still sat in her throat, cold and bitter. You're choosing Lucifer over us, and there's no coming back from that.

With a shiver, Alex pulled the keys free, and the engine spluttered to a stop, plunging the car into silence. A gust of wind rattled her feathers as she stepped out into the torrent, and Alex narrowed her eyes against the downpour as she hurried towards the house, her thin and empty wings doing little to shield her from the rain. The twenty steps that took her to the porch were enough to soak her to the skin, and the young angel brushed her sopping hair out of her eyes.

The door was unlocked. It swung open as her fingertips brushed across the brass knob, and Alex hung back as she felt the air twist. Her hesitation lasted only a moment before she jumped inside, urged forward by the sudden wind that pummeled cold, stinging raindrops against her back.

She heard the door slam behind her, an impact that rattled the walls, and her wings twitched. Her grace writhed within her; fear held her back, but a greater desperation drove her inwards. A mirror hung in the hallway and Alex paused, frowning at her reflection. The rain had turned her blonde hair brown, and the wind had tossed and tangled it into a matted mess. Grey eyes glittered beneath the disarray, and Alex quickly turned away, combing hasty fingers through the locks to try and salvage her appearance.

Her canvas shoes squeaked against the wooden floor as she delved further into the home, and she paused beside the doorway that led into the front room. The overhead lights were on, their yellow glow warm in contrast to the storm's black cold. A figure stood in the corner. The face was unfamiliar; blue eyes sat above an angular jaw and pointed chin. The shadow of a black beard showed upon the cheeks, a shade or two darker than the mop of hair upon his head. What was familiar was the crimson wings that lay folded across his back: stretched out, they could have easily spanned the entire room. "It took you awhile to come inside." The strange voice had Alex hesitating, and one wing curled forward as Lucifer smiled; the grin felt far too cold for that face. "It's just me."

"I know." Her voice cracked, and she took a moment to steady it. "I just didn't want to go out in the storm." Alex felt his grace stretch forward through the air, a curious probe, and she reached out to meet it with her own. She could feel the change the moment they touched; Lucifer's frozen grace flooded inwards, and her eyes glowed red with his power, fading as the rush of ice subsided. A yelp hung in the air; was it hers?