Tracks
Nine
Stars were falling. Lucifer dropped them like stones skipping across the universe each time an angel was killed in battle. Earthquakes struck the eastern seaboard, causing tsunamis to ripple across the Atlantic, baffling scientists. The unassuming citizens of Detroit had carried on as usual despite lightening storms that plagued the city and the resulting widespread power outages that followed Lucifer’s rising.
What happened in Detroit gripped the attention of both local and national broadcasters who spoke in suspicious voices about poisoned reservoirs, hailstorms, and locust invasions. Jokes about the weather were made in coffeehouses and at offices about the End of Days. Little did Detroit know that what was happening was the result of a mess created long before its time, from an age when Earth still belonged to beasts and angels.
Soon the birds would stop singing. Dead fish would turn up along the banks of the Detroit River. Animals would hibernate. Castiel knew that if this continued the streets would soon call out for a savior, a deliverer, a messiah-for Dean. Even if the people didn’t know his name, Dean would hear their cries and would answer them.
Sam led them along with Death to a botanical garden on Belle Isle, where Lucifer waited for him and had summoned him to in a dream. The 982-acre island park was an oasis against the city skyline embossed on the horizon. Rising among a tableau of ferns, palms, jade, and blooms of orchids was a stately greenhouse dome, a miniature Monticello. It was a place of tranquility, of quietude.
Lucifer was found roaming the grounds, the perennial gardens and the fruit greenhouses. He was dressed in a suit of white and taking in fresh air in this Eden buried inside an industrial metropolis. He made his vessel smile, then grin, and then grin wickedly.
First he addressed Death. “A Horseman?” he laughed. “About as useless on me as the Colt. After a little binding spell, you’ll be doing my bidding next.”
Then he turned toward Castiel, to whom he extended a rose the color of crimson. Castiel didn’t accept, and Lucifer twirled it in his fingers, bemused.
“So different than the last time we met,” he said to Castiel. “I know it’s basically in my job description to lead others away from God, but you barely needed a push. I wanted you to do it, and I got to watch from the sidelines while you allowed a human to destroy you. You know my go-to mottos, don’t you? Rebel. Disobey. Fall if you want to fall. Create anarchy, and craft an insurrection. Fuck the Man, Cas, or at least just the man. From the moment you laid a hand on him in Hell, you’ve made me proud.”
“It’s your pride that was your downfall, Lucifer,” Castiel said. He dared to stand tall and look the Devil in the eye as he spoke.
“And what’ll be yours?” Lucifer laughed. “It’s really quite an awful thing to care about someone, but an angel burning up in the hands of a human? Your failure only proves my point about them. You are what happens when we bend to them, when we acquiesce to them, when we love them. And you do love them so, don’t you? So dear he is to you that with him all deaths you could endure, and you will.”
“He’s been resurrected,” Death said, speaking about Castiel. “He’ll stay resurrected.” Castiel glanced at Dean, who glared back.
Lucifer sneered. “Okay, so you’ve got Big Daddy Reaper on your side, but you’ll find out soon enough. Resurrection’s a curse when you die without a soul, and not even Death can give you one of those. You’ll never be human, not truly. You rank even lower because you have tasted greatness, and you’ve wasted it away. Smell the coffee, Castiel. Face the music. Yours is a tragic story, not a heroic one. Something doesn’t fall and not break. That’s not how it works.”
Dean’s voice rose above the Devil’s. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience there,” he said.
Lucifer circled the group with his hands clasped behind his back. “I may be fallen, but I’ve gained power rather than given it up.” He sounded disgustingly sincere, but then he turned toward Castiel again with a disparaging smile. “But Castiel, look how weak you’ve become. He’d be able to hold you down with his human limbs if he tried, but then again maybe he already has. I don’t know. Besides, who’s the Devil to judge? Liberalism comes in such peaks and valleys on Earth these days. I can never keep up with the times.”
“One thing you’ve yet to learn is when to keep your mouth shut,” Death scolded.
“You’ve got a point. I guess you don’t really need me to narrate when we all know how this story goes. Eve always eats the fruit in the end, so I win.”
“Don’t interrupt me,” Death started, but Lucifer was quick to cut him off.
“Or what?”
Death revealed his true face to Lucifer, and the light of God shone upon him with terrible brilliance.
“It can’t be,” Lucifer slipped for a single moment before regaining composure.
“I’m curious,” said God. “You’ve fallen, but you haven’t forsaken your angelic name, the name I gave to you upon your creation.”
“You mean the one thing you’ve given to me that was wholly mine? One of the greatest myths we’ve created for ourselves is the belief that we’re all the same and that we’re the universal when we’re not. You know, there used to be a time when it wasn’t such a bad thing if we weren’t.” He looked at God in accusation. “Equally horrible is when an angel feels, when an angel loves, when an angel falls.”
“It was your choice to fall,” God said.
But Lucifer was quick to dismiss the claim. “It wasn’t a choice. I was cast out. Angels were intended to be soldiers. We weren’t meant to withstand or succumb to petty human emotions like favoritism and neglect. But somewhere along the way, things got messier than intended. Am I right, Dad? Too much loss and pain? Too much vice and sin? Too much Death for God?”
“Fell deeds that have transpired in my absence did so because of you and your legions.”
“But you’re back now, and our faith’s been restored, right? Nope. Sorry, but that doesn’t sit quite right with me. Ask a nonbeliever if what he wants is faith, and he’ll say no but mean yes. Say, for instance, that there is no afterlife, and that the end really is the end. Is this what makes the atheist happy, satisfied? No, because he has an idea that’s kept hidden in the loneliest corner in the back of his mind, and it’s called hope. Then take that hope from him, and tell him he’s wrong. Not just tell him, but show him. Prove it to him. Shatter the hope. Break the man. This is what you’ve done to us, the angels, and soon to humankind. So welcome home, Father. As much as I would love to regale you all with tales of better times and darker times, and times of war and peace, I must bid farewell until next we meet.”
Castiel wondered in silence if God would let Lucifer slip out unpunished, but then He put his doubts to rest.
“You can’t possibly think that I’d let you leave this place unpunished.” God said.
Lucifer seemed cornered, but he still had a show to put on for his audience. “If I go down, the boy’s coming down with me. Sam and I will be swimming in the Lake of Fire for the next millennium or so, give or take, and I usually prefer take,” he said. He disappeared in a blink, but the sound of lightening crackled through the air after him as the Earth shook at their feet. God disappeared, too. He pulled Lucifer through planes, using his iron scepter to release the angel’s true form from his fill-in vessel.
The explosion from the exodus of the Morning Star permeated the mortal plane, and Detroit withstood its final earthquake on Belle Isle. Soon the city would fall back into rhythm and routine. People would dress themselves in plausible explanations, referring to what had happened as the incidents or as nothing at all. There would be no talk about an apocalypse, nothing said about the Devil or the amnesiac deity who remembered, and why.
Stars were falling. Lucifer dropped them like stones skipping across the universe each time an angel was killed in battle. Earthquakes struck the eastern seaboard, causing tsunamis to ripple across the Atlantic, baffling scientists. The unassuming citizens of Detroit had carried on as usual despite lightening storms that plagued the city and the resulting widespread power outages that followed Lucifer’s rising.
What happened in Detroit gripped the attention of both local and national broadcasters who spoke in suspicious voices about poisoned reservoirs, hailstorms, and locust invasions. Jokes about the weather were made in coffeehouses and at offices about the End of Days. Little did Detroit know that what was happening was the result of a mess created long before its time, from an age when Earth still belonged to beasts and angels.
Soon the birds would stop singing. Dead fish would turn up along the banks of the Detroit River. Animals would hibernate. Castiel knew that if this continued the streets would soon call out for a savior, a deliverer, a messiah-for Dean. Even if the people didn’t know his name, Dean would hear their cries and would answer them.
Sam led them along with Death to a botanical garden on Belle Isle, where Lucifer waited for him and had summoned him to in a dream. The 982-acre island park was an oasis against the city skyline embossed on the horizon. Rising among a tableau of ferns, palms, jade, and blooms of orchids was a stately greenhouse dome, a miniature Monticello. It was a place of tranquility, of quietude.
Lucifer was found roaming the grounds, the perennial gardens and the fruit greenhouses. He was dressed in a suit of white and taking in fresh air in this Eden buried inside an industrial metropolis. He made his vessel smile, then grin, and then grin wickedly.
First he addressed Death. “A Horseman?” he laughed. “About as useless on me as the Colt. After a little binding spell, you’ll be doing my bidding next.”
Then he turned toward Castiel, to whom he extended a rose the color of crimson. Castiel didn’t accept, and Lucifer twirled it in his fingers, bemused.
“So different than the last time we met,” he said to Castiel. “I know it’s basically in my job description to lead others away from God, but you barely needed a push. I wanted you to do it, and I got to watch from the sidelines while you allowed a human to destroy you. You know my go-to mottos, don’t you? Rebel. Disobey. Fall if you want to fall. Create anarchy, and craft an insurrection. Fuck the Man, Cas, or at least just the man. From the moment you laid a hand on him in Hell, you’ve made me proud.”
“It’s your pride that was your downfall, Lucifer,” Castiel said. He dared to stand tall and look the Devil in the eye as he spoke.
“And what’ll be yours?” Lucifer laughed. “It’s really quite an awful thing to care about someone, but an angel burning up in the hands of a human? Your failure only proves my point about them. You are what happens when we bend to them, when we acquiesce to them, when we love them. And you do love them so, don’t you? So dear he is to you that with him all deaths you could endure, and you will.”
“He’s been resurrected,” Death said, speaking about Castiel. “He’ll stay resurrected.” Castiel glanced at Dean, who glared back.
Lucifer sneered. “Okay, so you’ve got Big Daddy Reaper on your side, but you’ll find out soon enough. Resurrection’s a curse when you die without a soul, and not even Death can give you one of those. You’ll never be human, not truly. You rank even lower because you have tasted greatness, and you’ve wasted it away. Smell the coffee, Castiel. Face the music. Yours is a tragic story, not a heroic one. Something doesn’t fall and not break. That’s not how it works.”
Dean’s voice rose above the Devil’s. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience there,” he said.
Lucifer circled the group with his hands clasped behind his back. “I may be fallen, but I’ve gained power rather than given it up.” He sounded disgustingly sincere, but then he turned toward Castiel again with a disparaging smile. “But Castiel, look how weak you’ve become. He’d be able to hold you down with his human limbs if he tried, but then again maybe he already has. I don’t know. Besides, who’s the Devil to judge? Liberalism comes in such peaks and valleys on Earth these days. I can never keep up with the times.”
“One thing you’ve yet to learn is when to keep your mouth shut,” Death scolded.
“You’ve got a point. I guess you don’t really need me to narrate when we all know how this story goes. Eve always eats the fruit in the end, so I win.”
“Don’t interrupt me,” Death started, but Lucifer was quick to cut him off.
“Or what?”
Death revealed his true face to Lucifer, and the light of God shone upon him with terrible brilliance.
“It can’t be,” Lucifer slipped for a single moment before regaining composure.
“I’m curious,” said God. “You’ve fallen, but you haven’t forsaken your angelic name, the name I gave to you upon your creation.”
“You mean the one thing you’ve given to me that was wholly mine? One of the greatest myths we’ve created for ourselves is the belief that we’re all the same and that we’re the universal when we’re not. You know, there used to be a time when it wasn’t such a bad thing if we weren’t.” He looked at God in accusation. “Equally horrible is when an angel feels, when an angel loves, when an angel falls.”
“It was your choice to fall,” God said.
But Lucifer was quick to dismiss the claim. “It wasn’t a choice. I was cast out. Angels were intended to be soldiers. We weren’t meant to withstand or succumb to petty human emotions like favoritism and neglect. But somewhere along the way, things got messier than intended. Am I right, Dad? Too much loss and pain? Too much vice and sin? Too much Death for God?”
“Fell deeds that have transpired in my absence did so because of you and your legions.”
“But you’re back now, and our faith’s been restored, right? Nope. Sorry, but that doesn’t sit quite right with me. Ask a nonbeliever if what he wants is faith, and he’ll say no but mean yes. Say, for instance, that there is no afterlife, and that the end really is the end. Is this what makes the atheist happy, satisfied? No, because he has an idea that’s kept hidden in the loneliest corner in the back of his mind, and it’s called hope. Then take that hope from him, and tell him he’s wrong. Not just tell him, but show him. Prove it to him. Shatter the hope. Break the man. This is what you’ve done to us, the angels, and soon to humankind. So welcome home, Father. As much as I would love to regale you all with tales of better times and darker times, and times of war and peace, I must bid farewell until next we meet.”
Castiel wondered in silence if God would let Lucifer slip out unpunished, but then He put his doubts to rest.
“You can’t possibly think that I’d let you leave this place unpunished.” God said.
Lucifer seemed cornered, but he still had a show to put on for his audience. “If I go down, the boy’s coming down with me. Sam and I will be swimming in the Lake of Fire for the next millennium or so, give or take, and I usually prefer take,” he said. He disappeared in a blink, but the sound of lightening crackled through the air after him as the Earth shook at their feet. God disappeared, too. He pulled Lucifer through planes, using his iron scepter to release the angel’s true form from his fill-in vessel.
The explosion from the exodus of the Morning Star permeated the mortal plane, and Detroit withstood its final earthquake on Belle Isle. Soon the city would fall back into rhythm and routine. People would dress themselves in plausible explanations, referring to what had happened as the incidents or as nothing at all. There would be no talk about an apocalypse, nothing said about the Devil or the amnesiac deity who remembered, and why.