The last putrid orange street lamp shivered and went out leaving the block in the weak, gray light of a waning moon. Some of the yards contained shrubs and bushes partially concealed in old bed sheets in an attempt to shield them from the bitter winter winds ripping remorselessly across the streets. The flapping of these feeble guards disguised the swish of a dark figures coat as he appeared suddenly on the corner beneath one of the extinguished lamps. The scruff of his overcoat was turned up against the elements, but his gait suggested he was unfettered by any weather.

He marched matter-of-factly past each home from the corner, pausing briefly at each as if to listen to the way wind howled across each yard. Until halfway up the block, he stopped entirely in front of a side-gabled bungalow. He stared, for a long time, at the dark house, waiting, listening. He did not move. Planted against the shifting air, he did not even sway. He did not blink. Once or twice he even forgot to breathe.

A light in the rear of the house ignited suddenly and he moved silently up the drive to be sure, but he stayed enough in the shadows to avoid detection. He sensed the activity inside without getting any closer. It was time.

The back door to the house opened yellow light poured from within, but the man was gone. In the blink of an eye he had vanished and reappeared on the other side of the yard. A man emerged from the door in his house coat and slippers. His arm was around a woman, slightly hunched and heaving, with her stomach swelled out into the arch of a perfectly healthy pregnant woman.

"Hold on, darling," said the man, shooing his wife towards the car in the drive. "I've left the keys."

"Hurry, Derek!"

He charged back inside, only to emerge a few moments later with keys jangling on the edge of his finger. Derek and the woman pulled out of the drive and disappeared around the corner. The hidden figure emerged from the shadows into the light. The door had bounced back open when Derek had tried to slam it shut behind. With a flick of two fingers, it closed with a quick snap and the figure was gone again.

An hour later, he was seated stiffly in a plastic waiting room chair, twiddling his thumbs and listening intently to the silence. An awkward cringe in his bowels that presented itself physically as an insatiable discomfort gripped him. His first solo assignment came to a head with the birth of Derek's child. The termination or extension of his duties among the people would be determined. Humans, he had learned in the past nine months, would doubtlessly call his jitters nerves.

"Castiel!" said Derek, bursting through both doors of the waiting room and waking another man napping in the corner.

He stood, accepting his one-armed hug with business-like indifference, which Derek did not notice in his ecstasy. "How is Alia?"

"Wonderful, there were no complications at all. She's just resting now."

"And the child?"

"A girl! A beautiful, amazing, gorgeous, phenomenal little girl," he said. "You'll have to see her, Castiel, but she's... perfect."

They returned to Alia's hospital room, which appeared much cozier than any of the others, where the cold staleness of the hospital still seeped in. Castiel pretended to be interested in the swooning of Derek and Alia as they went on and on about how they saw their new daughter, but he wanted to see her for himself. Their words were nothing. In their minds, of course, their daughter was an angel in every way and no one would tell them otherwise, but Castiel was hoping to have a secret; that she was actually part-angel.

A nurse arrived not too long after Derek and Alia ran out of terms of endearment to rain on the baby pushing the infant in the transparent bassinet. "Here she is. Pretty little Alyssa Mae Gubler."

She was special, illuminating and filling the room with joy beyond natural capacity. Castiel remained in his place even though her Grace tugged at him to approach. He watched as her parents nuzzled and squeezed her with overinflated hearts. After both of them had a chance to let her grip their pinky finger with her tiny, wrinkly hand, Castiel stood.

"May I?" asked Castiel. His attraction to the infant had overwhelmed him, but from the looks on Alia and Derek's faces he realized it must have taken all their will to relinquish her, even temporarily, into his carefully arms

Alyssa was beyond beautiful. Not even a doll sculpted out of porcelain and painted by a master could rival the cashmere tufts of silvery blonde hair and clear blue eyes, glittering dimly but innocently up at him. He breathed in her essence, the energy emitting gently from her with the light scent of baby powder and freshly washed cotton, the only scent her parents would never be able to detect. Alyssa's grandmother was lucky when none of her children showed signs of Grace; it allowed her reentrance to heaven after she was found. However her son's daughter was clearly a new breed; One-fourth angel.

And Castiel was there to keep her safe.