No One Here Gets Out Alive

Now that the Angel was staying with him, for one night and one night only, Derek might of well have played the good host, after all, he might of been a wolf, but that didn’t mean she should be an animal. He wanted to be polite, to try and not let the actions of Balthazar reflect on his attitude towards Remiel but it was harder now the Angel was actually in his bar, dejavu, his eyes clocked the broken table he’d fallen into with a flick of the Angels wrist and nothing more. This was probably going to be a very sleepless night.

"I am in no need of food." Derek’s brow cocked "What? Angel’s don’t eat?" he asked with a curious tone, especially as the feathered freak said he didn’t sleep. What else didn’t these creatures do? Did they shit and piss like normal people? If they didn’t eat, he kind of doubted it, plus an angel caught with it’s pants down… didn’t really seem very likely. Kind of funny though….

"If my Father or any of my siblings could see me now" The Alpha was about to make a witty comment about the lack of his fathers presence, when the Angel smiled "Oh, how the righteous have fallen!" Derek looked at him with a slight smirk, shaking his head "Were you really all that righteous to begin with?" he asked, doubting it. From what he had seen, they were pretty self righteous, or rather, pompous dicks, but that was about it. "I mean, come on, you’re entire family is a little dysfunctional. And you kind of wanted to destroy a whole planet… I thought the righteous cared about the little people…" he said with a shrug.

Remiel had been a taken aback by Derek's commentary. When the man brought out the tired trope about "caring for the little people," it took everything not to roll his eyes. He had to be careful with how he responded, however. The wolf could easily kick him out.

"Contrary to popular belief, we are not humanity's servants, we are Heaven's warriors," he replied, trying to keep his voice calm and casual. "It seems many have forgotten some of the holy punishments brought down upon humanity by God's orders within the holy texts. Then again, it seems humanity also liked to bend such holy words for their own benefit."

Before he could even respond to the other man's remarks about how dysfunctional his family was, Derek had shushed him, proclaiming that they weren't alone. Without giving it much thought, Remiel pulled out his sword, forgetting all about his machete.

As a non sentient being Michael was able to see a great many things. Every morning he watched the sun graze the horizon, he put the chirping sounds of waking birds to memory and would often wait out the day in the same position. Atop the Empire State Building in New York or the Efile Tower in France he’d gaze down at humanity and smile as they went about their day. 

Sometimes he was quite happy that he was to be their protector. He was banishing Lucifer to the pit for them, saving them from the clutches of the great serpent because he was a good son and that was his charge. They were his charge. This was about orders- without a doubt- this was about doing what Father had bid him do but watching them for as long as he did? It made him fall in love. 

The little things each man, woman and child did throughout their day that would seem foolish to most angels was considered a miracle by their standards. Sometimes he intervened but only in extreme cases. One such case was the little house in Maryland in the late 40’s where a young boy was being possessed. At first Michael thought Lucifer was involved since that’s what the reports confirmed but closer inspection would say- no. 

With his aid the boy walked away, alive though emotionally scarred, and the demons in the house were banished back to hell. 

It all changed when Michael gained entry into a body. Everything was so limited. The range of expression, experiencing, was not even a fraction of what he was used to. In his memory it hadn’t been like this before. When he banished Lucifer into the pits before it had felt different- hadn’t it? But now…. now it was more constricting. 

However limited he might be Michael was still aware of the presence of Heaven. He stayed within the airwaves, checking in on the man who was to be his final vessel, making sure his abominable brother hadn’t yet said yes to the Devil, and there he found….

"Ramiel?" 

He looked toward the sky, still so clear and blue. For now. If Michael and Lucifer were to go toe to toe, he knew that would change. Maybe not permanently, but it would never be the same. Of course, the Earth - the last of his Father's great creations, as far as he was concerned - had changed a lot since its inception. Humanity had caused most of those changes and few, if any, seemed to be any good.

Suddenly, Remiel felt the presence of another angel. Not any angel, either - an archangel, and a powerful one at that. He removed his gaze from the sky and looked toward the ground. He didn't need to hear the voice to know who it was - Michael. A heavy sigh escaped the lips of his vessel. If Michael had found him, he knew it couldn't have been good. Someone must have tracked him somehow - who and how, he didn't know. It could have been Michael himself, for all he knew. He was certain whoever snitched on him had to have at the very least been an archangel.

"Yes, brother?" Remiel replied, his voice light, turning to face his older brother. Deep down he prayed that Michael wouldn't smite him on the spot.

The words that Michael spoke struck fear within Remiel. He didn't know what Michael knew - what he said could have been a ruse. Many thought of Michael as a tough warrior - which he certainly was - they never really gave much credence to how smart he really was (not that they believed him to be dumb, either). Michael could be slippery, he knew that quite well. 

"I most certainly am not!" He exclaimed, the shock in his voice genuine. He wasn't choosing sides at all, but how he conveyed that to the oldest archangel had to be handled with care. "What would make you believe those vicious rumors?"

Nate’s face softened. “Yes, Lucifer… he’s more lost now than he’s ever been. Sometimes I fear he will never return to us. I do hope you were not too injured, if at all. But I know what he has become. I wouldn’t dare hope for something good,” he was frowning deeply, his blue eyes looking into Remiel’s. He rolled his shoulders back, stood up taller. Though for all it was worth, eh didn’t let Anna’s hand go. He could feel where she was faltering. Where memories of her death were still playing like shadow puppets against the back of her mind. If only he could take that sadness from her, store it in his own soul where may a dark thing lay. A weight he had gotten used to early in his life. Because she was fragile, as much as she hated to be so, and she clung too deeply to her pain. 

"We promise you safety and acceptance. You are loved, brother, by the bonds that have always joined us and by our own free will. You will always be welcome among us. Provided of course, you don’t mean to harm us," Nate offered a warm smile, transitioning away from thoughts of Lucifer and the real devil he had become. He extended his free hand in a gesture of good will. Truly welcoming the archangel. Anna snickered to herself, "careful cowboy, last angel you said that to… well you guys got to know each other a whole lot better in the primal sense."

Nate instantly dropped her hand and grew rigid, face painted in shades of red. “I uh… well… he’s…”

"That is truly terrible..." Remiel remarked quietly. The idea of being burned to death by an archangel was not a pleasant one. Smiting, in his opinion, would have been preferable to that. "I don't think anyone is enjoying this...this chaotic world. ...Except for maybe Lucifer and Michael..."

Inwardly, he winced at his own words. He couldn't believe he had spoken so carelessly. Still, even the most reckless of statements could be true. He wasn't entirely certain how much either Michael or Lucifer were enjoying the present world, but they had certainly helped it come to pass.

He listened to Nathaniel's talk about Lucifer. He had recognized an all too familiar sadness in his voice. It was a sadness that he often heard in his own when he discussed the Lightbearer. Could it be? Another angel who knew Lucifer? Remiel wondered to himself, feeling a pang of hope creep up on him. The idea of another angel that did not think of Lucifer as a traitorous monster - at least didn't believe him to always have been one, anyway - brought him some kind of relief. Though he knew he was not alone in his mourning of what Lucifer once was, he had never ran across another who felt the way he had.

"I sometimes wonder if he was lost a long time ago," he said, sadness in his voice. He looked at the ground momentarily before bringing his eyes back up to meet Nathaniel's. "I miss him terribly, despite what he tried to do to me. I was not hurt - thankfully. I managed to use a trick he had taught me and disappeared. ...But I sometimes wonder if he let me go, if he could not bring himself to actually carry on with his plot against me."

When Nathaniel offered him acceptance and safe passing, Remiel could feel his Grace warm. It had been such a long time since he last had such a warm meeting with his siblings. The only other time was when he had ran across Castiel, though he had ended up frightening his sibling when he could not keep control of his emotions. Remiel took Nathaniel's free hand and shook it, accepting his welcoming invitation.

Confusion crossed his face when Anna made some sarcastic comments about an occurrence between Nathaniel and another angel. Their brother did not seem to take too kindly to the remark and he still found himself confused when Anna attempted to clarify things. He gathered that something sexual in nature had been alluded to, but he couldn't be certain.

When Anna suggested he put his sword away, Remiel looked at it briefly and determined that it was no longer necessary. If Nathaniel and Anna meant him harm, he didn't really need the sword to defend himself and could smite if necessary - though he hoped that wasn't the case. He brought the blade back into it's sheath and then tucked it into his jacket.

When humanity came into play, he couldn’t help but think, the thought arising in the archangel’s mind almost unbidden, bringing with it a stab of hate and anger that Lucifer refused to let show. Not when he knew he was so close (hopefully) to having Remiel back. 

At least for a moment… 

He was pleased his brother didn’t pull away from him, of course, but Lucifer wasn’t stupid. The Morningstar could tell Remiel didn’t feel the same under his touch as he had all those millennia ago. There was tenseness there where before, Lucifer knew such a thing wouldn’t even register. Would never even be thought of, considered. 

"Don’t worry yourself over what I may or may not do with the facts presented to me, Remiel,” said Lucifer, keeping his voice calm, quiet, as he kept his blue stare firmly upon his younger brother. It was as close to being completely honest with the other archangel as Lucifer could allow himself, for he did not want to lie to Remiel. He did not want to admit that a massacre may result from the information given; he did not want to admit that siblings may perish, or creatures of Eve, or humanity… 

There was little telling how his brother may react to such… honest confession. 

"Let that lay with me, little brother." As it always has. "I defend myself, Remiel. That is all I have ever done. And yet, I cannot just solely remain on the defensive. You know as well as I do what a poor strategy that is." 

Lucifer’s other hand came up then, to rest on Remiel’s other shoulder. His brother hadn’t pulled away before, and Lucifer simply took that as a further invitation. With both hands resting on his brother’s shoulders, the Lightbearer stared hard at Remiel. 

"I know I cannot stop you and Michael from fighting," Remiel said, defeat in his voice. "I tried to stop it before and I was unable to. I doubt I would be able to stop you two from fighting now. This is not something I want, brother!"

He wanted to ask Lucifer - beg him - to promise not to hurt any of their siblings. He knew he couldn't stop the two oldest archangels from battling each other - no matter how much he wanted to - he just didn't understand why other angels had to be hurt or killed in the process. Though he knew why - they would stupidly get in one of the oldest archangel's way and they would find themselves smote as a result. Fools, he thought to himself bitterly. He did not know how to express this sentiment to his older brother, however. He feared such a statement could be taken the wrong way; he believed the Lightbearer may believe he wanted his demise, when that wasn't the case.

Remiel listened to Lucifer's words, feeling both of his brother's hands resting upon his shoulders. His body and Grace relaxed only a little, the muscles still tense. The words his brother spoke were words he desperately needed to hear - that he was capable, that someone believed in him, that he was skilled, and that there was no one better for such a task. He just wished this didn't have to be the task. Doubt briefly crossed his mind - was Lucifer only saying these things? Did he say them only to get him to agree to assist him? Or did he mean them? Was Lucifer willing to lie to him? He had been willing to steal his Grace...

He looked her directly in the eye and shook his head. There was no way he was going out there, certainly not alone. It did not appear like she wanted to join him, either - although, not even he could blame her. Still, he knew the road to Hell was paved with good intentions and he wasn’t go to lay any bricks on that road for this vampire.

All hope for survival drained from her body as she watched Remiel disappear before her eyes. Her hands reached out towards the space he’d occupied, desperately hoping to grab onto some part of him to keep him tethered here. Her fingers slipped through air, though, and no matter how many times she reached for him, he was gone.

"Motherfucker," she hissed.

They heard her. There was one crack of a neck, then a dozen more. The herd of croats all had their eyes set on her, and they were pouring through the window, ready to rip her to shreds.

Jessica stood with her legs set apart, her fangs bared, and her fists at the ready. 

Frankie had never been one for mapping out her future in fine detail and the world she lived in now, proved it was useless anyway.  All the dreams and plans which others had made, they were now fucked up and inconsequential.  Just pawns in a game of life, moves dictated by higher powers. Oh yeah, humans thought they had it all figured out for many years, when in fact, many celestial beings saw them as nothing more than walking, talking pieces of meat who destroyed and diseased the land around them.  The blonde had other ideas, she didn’t want to just sit back and accept the way things were. She wanted to grab life by the balls and show it she would not be anybodies puppet, If that ultimately meant death, then so be it and she would go down swinging.

The figure passed on by and Frankie mentally spoke the words ‘just keep on walking’, hoping for no trouble but also ready to tackle it head on if there was any.

Scuffled footsteps and an angry agitated moan was heard outside. Frankie had encountered similar  in the past . “Oh great….” So now there wasn’t just the one person but more and it sounded distinctly like croatoans.  Being very much one for looking out for herself, she contemplated not jeopardizing her current position. But croatoans——fuck.  Her jaw clenched as she quickly assessed the situation and realised even if she remained where she was, the imminent danger of one lurking around the building she was in, it wasn’t the most comforting of thoughts.

Taking a deep breath, Frankie placed down the empty rifle and grabbed her pistol, double checking the two knives were still easily accessible in the side pockets of her combats.  Stepping through the broken mirrors on the floor with dexterity and agility, she made her way to the rear exit so that when she was eventually seen, she would just appear from nowhere.

He looked up at her from the position he found himself laying in. Though she had just helped him in his time of need, he found himself with a new fear to deal with. Who is she? What is she? Where did she come from? Remiel asked himself. He had no way to know if she would be a friend or foe to him, if she was part of a larger group or alone. Just because she had killed the last Croatoan, didn't mean she had specifically done it for him. She could likely be staying in the area and didn't want the monster hanging around. It just could have worked out that it was beneficial for the both of them.

"Yes, gravity is a bitch," Remiel agreed, making his way to his feet.

Remiel kept his machete at his side, but still in hand. He could feel his sword nestled against his the side of his vessel's ribs, which he could also bring into hand at a moment's notice if need be. He kept an eye on her gun, but did not make a show of staring at it. The woman had him on weapons, but she didn't realize her bullets would do her little good with him. Still, if she decided to shoot him, he would waste Grace repairing the wound.

That, and it was the Devil talking; the Host said he wasn’t supposed to listen, or he could become twisted and doubtful and-

Well. He’d fallen. Still. Not because of Lucifer. Not directly. And he now had plenty of time to think for himself about these things - crime, punishment, who deserves what exactly - since he no longer had the ability to transfer intention into instant action.

'Slow. Confining,' he'd told the Morningstar - about the Impala. But it could have applied to most anything vessel-like. An answer that didn't give much useful information.

His brother had labeled him ‘peculiar’ in response, likely because the choice of… taking the scenic route? Must’ve seemed counterintuitive. Granted, it was highly inefficient. In fact, it was probably also unfathomable to the rest of the Host that any angel, or anyone, would prefer to think when they could simply do.

Because thinking leads to doubt. Leads to looking at patterns and differences, seeing problems and… finding creative solutions, rather than things to simply destroy.

God forbid others create.

     Did He, really?

His favored creations were- are creative, in all senses of the word. They could produce life, make children. They invented things like gunpowder, television and burgers.

Humans aren’t chalk marks on some divine drawing board. Mistakes to be wiped out. No, they’re…

God’s precious children.

          Family.

Somewhat distant family, perhaps, but related nonetheless. And that was where the Light Bringer fell.

"I see a huge flaw in Lucifer’s logic," Castiel concluded out loud, "if he cannot imagine loving any more than Father or the rest of his family." He thought of Bobby Singer, who took the Winchesters in as though they were his own boys. And that’s what they became.

"Family doesn’t end in blood," he said, with his hands half-rising like he wanted to hug Bobby back… belatedly, but still. "It does not end in grace either.

"Our brother was locked away, as the Leviathan were, because he looked upon the newest members of God’s family and manifested murderous intent." And because he too was a part of that family, he was not destroyed for it. Just tossed into a cage for a time out…

"But ordering Michael to cast Lucifer out of Heaven and into the Cage set a bad precedence." Imprisonment. Negligence of one’s children… Humans consider that irresponsible parenting. And criminal.

Father could very well have taking the time to teach them right from wrong instead of going absentee, and hoping they’d figure things out…

"It was a dick move,” Castiel said with a heavy sigh as he looked heavenward and hoped someone was taking notes.

If God cared to listen, if he heard that in fact, good.

"To some it does, Castiel," Remiel responded gently, any anger he once had felt had long dissipated from his tone. "Both human and angel alike."

He had remembered humanity's creation. It was so long ago, but sometimes it felt like only yesterday. He had watched them over the centuries. He saw acts of love and kindness, but what he saw the most of - what he remembered the most of - was their petty fighting, their trivial wars. If anyone was clannish, it was humanity. He watched as the alliances shifted and changed over time. He watched the backstabbing, the ceaseless bickering. He watched as they would band together during times of need, to help those who were suffering out. Then he watched as they were forgotten; watched as things went back to being the same.

"Ordering Michael to cast Lucifer out of Heaven and into the Cage set a bad precedence." The words rang true to Remiel. He looked at his brother and nodded his head in agreement. It had. In a way, Lucifer had exercised free will - and he was punished for it. Other angels had been cast out for exercising free will, as well. It seemed any angel who dared exercise free will had had the rug ripped from underneath the feet. The the Old Man left and left them to their own devices. What else was left? What else could they do? How does one go about teaching free will to a being that never believed it was there for them? To a being that really never had it?

"It most certainly was," Remiel agreed quietly to Castiel's statement that casting Lucifer out was a "dick move." He had assumed such a statement was negative in nature. "Leaving us to our own devices without warning, without any kind of...instruction was also careless...foolish."

Remiel listened to Castiel's declaration of still loving their Father and he understood. He knew the complications of the feelings he assumed his brother was feeling, for he felt them, as well. He found it to be difficult at times - the love for his Father clashing with his anger toward Him. How simple it would have been if they could only flip a switch...though he believed such a thing could be quite dangerous, too.

The Alpha just nodded as the Angel said his introduction was a little redundant. These days, noone really cared if you were human, wolf, vampire, demon or angel, you were a threat, and a survivor, it was that simple. The old saying about being scared of the unknown had never been more true than it was right now. The Apocalypse had made damn sure that anything out of the ordinary, was just a new danger, a new obstacle. Even Angels could die, that was what the wolf had heard, so yes… introducing himself as an angel was a bit redundant.

"I will not harm anyone who poses no threat to me," “Stiles isn’t a threat.” he said quickly, almost out of some defensive instinct. If Stiles was in any sort of danger, Derek wouldn’t hesitate to make this bar a battle ground, even if it was there home.

Maybe Remiel understood love, maybe he got the fact there was someone that Derek would kill for without regret, without hesitation. But Derek decided not to try and broach that concept with an Angel, not when the others he had met seemed a little emotionally retarded, at best.

He stepped back and into the Fox and Hounds and gave a wave of his arm towards the inside as a gesture for the Angel to enter. "One night, no more." he said bluntly, not wanting the company, and not wanting another Angel to claim his territory as their own. “There’s a couch you can sleep on… If you sleep.” he said with a small shrug, not sure what human needs Remiel needed.

He might not have been humanity's biggest cheerleader, but he wasn't about to go wantonly smiting every person he came across, either. Not just because it would have been a waste of Grace in such a trying time, but because it just wasn't who he was or what he was about. He didn't like humanity, really, but he didn't hate them so much that he wanted their ultimate destruction at the cost of his family, either.

Remiel could tell Derek cared about this Stiles person. He heard it in the way he spoke, the tone of his voice. He really hoped no problems would arise, though he figured he would just leave if one were to. Still, Derek seemed to be all right and he didn't want to cause any problems. He didn't want to be one of the reasons for any more hatred toward his kind.

"I promise, one night and I will be on my way," he agreed, holding his hands up as he followed the werewolf into the bar. It probably was for the best, anyway. Though he could easily hide his Grace and make himself virtually invisible to his siblings, he preferred to have it "at hand." Because he was an archangel - and one with so much of his Grace still left intact - he knew his energy could possibly end up drawing other angels to the premises. (Although, it could also ward them off.) He kept such sentiments to himself, however. He didn't want to give Derek a reason to be afraid nor did he want to sound as if he wanted to stay.

He listened as Derek showed him around, looking around the room as he listed things off. The place didn't look much different from the last time he had been there. He could see the left over evidence of the fight. The werewolf had been quite kind to him once they had gotten past the unpleasantries, he found himself a bit irritated that Balthazar hadn't managed to do the same.

"I am in no need of food. I could just sit on the couch and keep watch, as sleeping is not a real necessity, either. That way, you and your companion can get some real rest for once," Remiel said. "I could use a glass of alcohol, though. It helped calm my vessel's nerves the last time I had one."

Her grey eyes studied the other angel and after a moment Nate could hear a sigh culled from the middle of her throat that sounded a little like a hiss. Nate spoke, after very briefly turning his head sideways to shoot Anna a thin lipped eye-roll. She was ever the petulant child as of late. ”I was pulled down from host when it was sealed. I fell, as stars fall, to be where I belonged and though I had but once before touched the dust of earth I was meant for this realm. The fires of life are low -they are but embers, I must ensure they go no lower. That they do not burn out,” he spoke honestly to Remiel. 

"This is Anael."

"Anna."

Nate nodded and flicked his gaze back to Remiel, “this is our sister Anna. She is afflicted with a sickness right now so you must understand my defensiveness. As I can understand yours, if you speak of the the brother I imagine you are.”

When Nathaniel introduced Anna, Remiel paused, his mind racing; the name had triggered a memory. He knew the name. Anael. Anael. ...Anna. Anna. Remiel's face lit up, his eyes widening in surprise when he finally realized who it was. He knew her to have been Castiel's boss at one time, before she forced her Grace out and fell to Earth. He never understood why she would have done such a thing, but he knew now was not the time to ask. He did recall hearing that she had gotten her Grace back, but he thought she had died during the first apocalypse.

"Anael...Anna? I must have heard wrong when I thought she had been killed by Michael," Remiel said, the uncertainty present in his voice. "Or maybe someone or something had brought her back...the way Balthazar had been brought back..."

This was all too much. Who is going around bringing dead angels back to life? Is it Father? Lucifer - and why would he do such a thing? Michael - although, why bring her back if he killed her? Remiel asked himself. If I am ever to die I wouldn't mind being brought back... Although, maybe not to this world...

"Yes, it was Lucifer who attacked me," he replied, confirming Anna's statement. "It appears he has taken to killing our siblings in order to boost his own Grace. ...I never thought I would see the day when he would attack me. Though I did not agree with this and tried to talk him out of this...this...madness, I never thought he would turn on me, turn on us, but especially not me..."

Remiel felt the familiar feeling of sadness wash over him. Lucifer was never an easy subject for him, especially now. He doubted his older and once favored brother would ever be a subject he could speak of without that feeling creeping up on him.

"I am going to step a little closer to you so that we do not have to shout at one another," Remiel announced, leaving his sword by his side, but lifting his free hand up.

Contemplating the world in its entirety, there really was a great loss of human life. Even with heaven and hell sealed with that mass ‘eviction’ which took place of the dwellers both good and bad, Frankie would sometimes travel weeks without seeing anyone. At first it was her preference, she was a loner, sometimes encroaching on being flat out anti-social. All her life it had been difficult for others to infiltrate the small circle of trusted friends she had, but once in that metaphorical circumference, the woman was loyal to a fault.  However, there was a difference in choosing to be that way and knowing literally there were no signs of apparent life. Which is why this was now her second time at attempting to set up some kind of ‘home’. The word was loosely termed, because Frankie saw home as some kind of sanctuary for when life dealt its blows. Nowadays, it was no more than a place to seek refuge from the weather, danger and whatever else may be lurking out there.  She knew there was more activity in this area and although that could be a negative thing, Frankie saw it as beneficial too. Psychological studies proved that humans needed to interact with others even if it was limited to the smallest connection. This always reminded her of the film ‘I am legend’ and the pitiful sad way the guy would express himself to mannequins in it, just to try and save his sanity of not having anyone to talk to. Some would argue to be doing that, his psyche was very much fractured anyway.

'God will always forgive you of your sins, Frankie….as long as you confess them and are sincere…and you welcome him into your heart'. Frankie recalled her Mothers speech with a small scoff and an air of indignation. The blonde had never been the religious type, but allowed her mums beliefs, without upsetting or questioning it. She often wondered what her Mother would make of this God of theirs now. He wasn’t coming across as the forgiving type any longer, in fact it was bordering on the realms of not giving a flying fuck. Well they were Frankie’s words anyway and she had no qualms whatsoever in voicing her opinion.

The last couple of days she had fixed the doors and windows to the hair salon and made it more secure, using locks and bolts from disused buildings. The salon itself was left in a mess deliberately, the shards of glass still covering the floor like the day she had found it. This helped to hear any intruders and also with the broken and upturned furniture, made it look like it was abandoned and empty. Upstairs was a different scene altogether. It was still messy, but there was a small table, a sleeping area, a kettle and various odds and ends, with a bathroom leading off from the main room.

He didn't know which he preferred: running across Croatoans or running across other survivors. At least you don't have to reason with Croatoans, Remiel thought to himself. He sometimes found dealing with other survivors to be rather tedious. Since the fall of social decorum - even amongst angels - no one was willing to give the other a chance. He knew why, he understood it. It was just frustrating. Though he knew he was no different, really. Such was the way of the world in 2016.

Remiel slowly passed a small building, a building that had declared itself to have been a hair salon at one time. He briefly paused in front of it, feeling someone's eyes upon him; feeling as if he were being watched. He was curious, but he did not know how to proceed. The last time he had knocked on a door, it had lead to a very tense exchange - although, he and the werewolf had worked things out peacefully. It was getting to that point that had been difficult.