【Ａｓｈｅｓ Ｔｏ Ａｓｈｅｓ】

-𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔸𝕤𝕙 𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝔽𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕤 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 ℍ𝕠𝕞𝕖-

Through the mesh of dyed cotton fabric, her warm gaze lazily following the loose trails of red and black thread laid out across her vision, the phoenix breathes in the earthy aroma stuck between the flannel's fibers from years of being draped across the back of its previous owner. She never knew when the habit first started, this almost ritualistic covering of her face when she rested, but when it began she could never seem to curb the action. Perhaps it was because there was comfort in the unknown. As if, for a single moment, she could pretend that she was safe, shielded even, from the potential terrors that may lay before her if she dared open her eyes during a rare instance of complete vulnerability. Suddenly, her throat is smothered in the phantom taste of freshly turned soil tainted by the rot of flesh.

"Look, when we get back to Bobby's-" (y/n) clings to Dean's baritone voice when it fills the vehicle, numbly pushing herself back up to sit against the leather seats of the Impala when it begins to feel as if she were once again laying in the suffocating darkness of a grave she'd rather forget.

"It's okay, Dean." Sam scoffs in response from the passenger seat, Dean offering a single glance full of uncertainty before the brother continues with another reassuring nod. "I'm good. No white rabbits, you know? I'm not seeing anything."

Although it is clear to both Sam and (y/n) that the hunter is still unconvinced, the anxiety he feels displayed through the light crease between his brows, Dean tries his hardest to seem happy with the answer he is given. "Alright...baby steps."

"Baby steps." Sam echoes lightly, the waver in his voice finally gone once they are far enough away from that warehouse of blood and bullet holes. However, before the conversation can be continued, the hunter suddenly tilts his head down to peer through the windshield before him. "Hold on, what's that?"

Following his gaze, both Dean and (y/n) mirror his actions and squint through the thick fog that had settled upon the empty street. At first, neither of them can see what had captured Sam's attention and this, understandably, puts them both on edge. However, when the almost magnetic pull in her chest begins, the phoenix guides both of their focus onto the sky.

Smoke. And a lot of it.

Heavy in carbon, she thinks, based on the almost ink-colored tendrils spiraling toward an evening sky full of stars, each pulsing light dulled by the blanket of smog now consuming them. With Sam and Dean now joined by the phoenix who crammed herself between their more stocky forms, the group all watch the scene with increasing curiosity until the older hunter is forced to slow to a stop when his attention continues to be dangerously pulled from the road ahead of him. There was something about it, something they couldn't quite understand, that had them all on edge.

"Forest fire?" Sam asks no one in particular, hoping that the hasty conclusion can calm the growing tension.

Shaking her head, that pull in her chest only growing in intensity the more she watched the intricate dance of soot and flame, the phoenix narrowed her gaze. "The smoke is too dark and...the smell."

With the driver's side window rolled down, the group all took a moment to breathe in the passing breeze. Sweet, almost sickeningly pungent, and confusingly pleasant when mixed with the more acrid odor of the distant inferno. The pair of brothers did not need to have supernatural senses to be able to pinpoint the scent she was referring to, they'd been around cars enough to know that far-off flame was being fueled by gasoline.

"Could have been a gas station fire." Sam offers again, shrugging his shoulders before allowing his critical mind to draw up a rational explanation for a situation they were still feeling wary about. "You know, someone spills a bunch of gas on the ground, someone else drops a cigarette-"