Self-reliance (Supernatural)

self-reliance

The air smells of ozone, which Alex thinks is strange for a dingy hotel room. Alex doesn’t dwell on that, because the smell of salty tears that shouldn’t be there is more important. The body of a young man on the ground with a silver blade in his chest and the ashen imprint of large wings on the ground was almost as important as the woman who sat, shaking in Alex’s arms, sobbing.

Words tumble out of Sauriel’s lips in a language Alex had no hope of comprehending. Alex runs out of hollow words to comfort her with and stares over her shoulder, thinking of the trembling Angel before her. Sauriel who was so insistent on coming alone, with no back-up, so trusting that the fellow angel that requested to meet her had no ill intention. How many times has Alex told Sauriel that she doesn't need to do everything on her own? As many times as she would appear in Alex’s room with a new injury that would heal only moments later, with a short “It's my duty your protector.”

Alex knew that Sauriel's desire to shield her from angel business would come back to bite her. She wishes that it had been physical. A fight Sauriel could win, and come away from with quick healing wound. Alex wonders who would even desire to attack her sweet, kind, oblivious Sauriel? Who would make her act in self-defense and kill a comrade, reducing her to this? Sauriel quiets for a moment, before switching to English. Her voice usually so smooth and soft shook. “He… his name is Ezekiel.... He taught me how to fly.”