Like Air.

They soared across the darkening horizon, southward towards Casper, Wyoming, the powerful thrusts of their wings creating small currents of wind that rustled the leaves of the trees that they passed. By twilight, the angels had reached the outskirts of the town, landing soundly on the rooftop of a barbershop. The darkness was mistrusting and deceiving, reminding Castiel of their enemies that deftly hid in the bodies of unlucky mortals.

Emelina was kept between Logan and Castiel as they began their hunt. "Stay close," had been Logan's order. She rolled her eyes. Her green eyes and unruly blonde hair was nowhere near matching the characteristics of the seventy-something victims in their newest case. But Logan would take no risks. "And keep your weapons close."

Cas felt for the hit of his sword, and he could feel security in the deadly-sharp tip of the blade. They would pay for taking Mickaela, he'd make sure of it, whoever "they" were. The three submerged from a dark ally and into a broad, empty road. It had been such a short flight, just three hours! Three hours! He had been just three hours from saving her life. She was gone- dead, without a doubt. Castiel could only see to blame himself for not moving any quicker; fallen angels were just half as strong as they were before they fell, and they were also more vulnerable. He couldn't help but think the word didn't suit her- vulnerable. She couldn't be; she was an archangel. Mickaela was a member of the most elite, aristocratic celestial level that existed. Her father, Archangel Michael, slammed Lucifer into hell. Her mother, Archangel Gabriella, was the one that told the Virgin Mary that she would give birth to the Holy Son, and also told her when she would die. They were his idols. All six archangels had specialized powers; Mickaela, even though she was fourteen years younger than Castiel (which was an insignificant age difference, anyway), she was able to harness maybe more than twice as much power as he could. And archangels could feel. Love, hate, spite, lust, gluttony, good or bad, they could feel it all, whereas other angels had a limited time in their life for such luxury.

As all of this set in his mind, he felt uneasy. Who could have wanted to do this?

Realization slapped him in the face.

But before he could organize his thoughts, the troupe came upon a department building.

"We're here."

---

Outside, the renovated department building was old and in shambles, a rat-hole-looking place that would have been the last place Castiel would ever picture her living in. The door was kicked in. That was the first bad sign.

It was late now. City lights twinkled in the background. The silver crescent moon hid between the poplar trees. Logan stuck a head through the door, scanning the first floor with his flickering flashlight. Aside from the broken-in door, everything looked.... perfectly normal. It was weird.

Cautiously, Logan stepped inside, followed by Emelina, then Castiel at the flank. There was a musty, bad smell choking the air. Emelina waved her flashlight in a fluid, sweeping motion, then she checked the floors, the she pointed it towards the ceiling.

"Look: there's a flight of stairs."

"She probably lived near the top," Logan grunted.

The smell never let up. It was like a fog of putrescence that irritated the nose. Castiel recognized the scent, but frustratingly enough, he couldn't remember what it was, exactly. And it seemed that he was the only one that noticed it. The angels scaled up the stairs, then up another flight, then up one more, until the discovered a door that had been left wide open, hanging crookedly on a single hinge. Instinct told them that this was where Mickaela had met her end.

Emelina tried the lights. They worked. They studied the surroundings. It was a one-room apartment, and like down below, nothing was out of place. Someone had done a very good job with covering their tracks. And it seemed like the stench that was all over the building thrive the most in this room. Yet still nothing triggered in Castiel's mind.

The group inquired further. Emelina crouched down near the door and studied how badly it had been damaged. She pulled a screwdriver from a belt loop as a substitute for a drill, and she began to right the door. Out of the three of them, Emelina was the one that had a knack for fixing things. Her hobbies, other than cramming her nose deep into a book, included taking apart kitchen appliances.

"Don't bother with the door," Logan said without turning around. "We have some investigating to do."

"I don't want anyone to take any of her belongings," she replied distractedly as she tightened a bolt on one of the hinges.

Castiel had taken to looking out one of the three large windows by Mickaela's bed. He felt nearly defeated; the perpetrator had left almost no trace of a kidnap ever happening in the single-room apartment.

And then Castiel saw a grainy substance pushed against the crack of the window. Salt. And for the first time, he realized that it was everywhere.

Emelina was fixing the last bolt that would set the door upright, when she paused to wipe the dust off of her fingers. It smelled distinctive, reminding her of something sour, like vinegar-

Wait. It was yellow. Emelina took a swipe of the strange dust and sniffed it carefully.

Sulfur.

It was what demons left behind them, like the way a bear left tracks or dung. Now that she realized it, it was all over the place- but there only was a faint trace of it, as if the demon had tried its best to clean it away. She turned around, searching for the faint trails wither trained eyes.

"Guys," she croaked, breaking the long-term silence. Both of their heads whipped around. "There's sulfur... here... everywhere..."

Logan followed the direction of her eyes. "I see it," he said, his eyes traveling around the sand-like remaining trails of sulfur. "Look; it's all around the bed, too."

Castiel's head shot up. There was a violent amount of it that zigzagged around Mickaela's bed in crude circles. Cas grimaced. It was now plain to see how the abduction was executed.

Emelina noticed the salt packed in the windows. It became clear; Mickaela had sealed the apartment room in a last resort of defense. Salt would prevent any demonic form from entering. Then there was the part she didn't understand: If Mickaela had put herself under substantial protection, then how could any demon have penetrated through?

There was one of two ways it could have happened: She could have let someone into the apartment that had been possessed by a demon, allowing it access inside. There was a flaw, though, to that explanation. Who could she have possibly allow break through the defense barrier under the circumstances? It didn't fit.

The other possibility was far more dreadful, and, Emelina realized, also far more plausible. A demonic force was great enough to break through the salt barrier and whisk Mickaela away.

She knew who it was.

And yet she couldn't dare consider anything as misfortunate as falling into the grasp of that. Her thoughts burrowed deeper as she involuntarily built onto her misery.

Mickaela was probably dead somewhere, half hidden in a gutter- the demons would like that, killing an archangel. Lane said... there was no living trace of Mickaela left on earth. There were probably some dead skin cells around. Maybe there were some hair follicles. But there was no living, pulsing trace. Or maybe Mickaela had been whisked away to a mid-world- a limbo, and unfortunately, limbos were inaccessible to angels. If she was there, it was all a matter of time before she did die.

It had been quiet awhile. The three had all silently wormed their way through the elaborate possibilities, then resulting in discovering what they been trying to avoid to approach, but knew well in their hearts that it was true.

Mickaela was gone, and she wasn't coming back.

Emelina suddenly felt sore. And depressed. Using the now- secure door for support she stumbled to her feet. Though it was about that time to leave, no one moved. Castiel had a vertical line etched deep between his eyebrows as his dark green eyes stared out of the window into the night sky. The entire time he had not moved from the window. Emelina began to realize it probably hadn't been a good idea to bring him.

She sighed and said, "Let's... go to home base." And right then, nothing sounded sweeter. Gradually, the three shuffled out of the room. Castiel took a fleeting glance at the sketches hanging on the wall. Let them be left in peace, he thought to himself.

Emelina was the last to leave. As she closed the door behind her, she locked it with a quiet click.

Let her rest in peace.