Chapter 60.
"Giraffes should be ugly," said Anael, "All neck and legs and no sense of proportion, but they're not. They look as if their made of crushed velvet and they walk as if the world belongs to them and they move those ridiculous necks so smoothly and elegantly that you forget how stupid they should look."
Dean wondered whether she knew that the sun that burnished her hair also cast a shadow behind her that was all kinds of hot. He wondered whether the strand of her hair that had escaped to touch her cheek tickled her at all and whether she felt the sun's warmth at all. Cas always said that angels barely felt even extremes of hot and cold.
"Are you listening to me?" she said.
"Yes, absolutely. Neck, legs, velvet coats." Velvet coats were something she would wear, in rich colours that would still fail to outshine the colour of her hair.
"You seem distracted." she said.
"Maybe just a little." he said. He realised that made it sound as if she might be boring him. Cas had taught him to always say more, rather than less and never to assume that an angel understood vague hints of what he was thinking and feeling. "You have my full attention, I swear," he said, "But it's hard to focus on what you're saying when what you're doing is so frickin' mesmerising."
"What am I doing?" she said. She didn't know?
"Standing there, in the sunlight, all curves and red hair." he said, "You wanted to know my type? Luminous red-headed goddess pretty much covers it."
"Sometimes," she said, you say such sweet things, that i forget what a jerk you can be the rest of the time."
It was strange, he thought, that they had reached this point, where he noticed the gleam in her eye and knew she was joking and she felt safe to joke with a man she had once believed wanted her dead. The fact that she had once tried to kill him and the others had gone from being a reason to seek revenge to a funny story, a weird piece of common ground between Heaven's rebel and Earth's.
"It's what I'm counting on." he said, "Sooner or later, you may forget entirely."
She chuckled and returned her attention to the giraffes. "What do you think God was thinking when he came up with them?" she said.
"I think he was drunk," said Dean, "Or stoned. They look lie the kind of thing I'd come up with when I was drunk."
"You don't get drunk." she said, "You just get full of whisky."
"That's very true." he said. He walked over to the fence. She had been watching his eyes a little too intently and though angels were bad at reading emotions in the face, he had the uncomfortable feeling that he was becoming an open book to her.
Apparently not, because she suddenly said, "Is something wrong?"
This was not communication, he thought as he concentrated on the nearest giraffe. This was chickening out and now she was worried again and like Cas, she would be trying to figure out what she had done wrong, when she had done nothing at all. It was all him.
He took a breath and then turned to face her. "Nothing." he said, "Everything's great, except ... " She might not have thought about it, in which case, why bring it up?
Before he could collect his thoughts, she put a hand on his arm and said, "You're agonising over every word. Am I that hard to talk to?"
"You're really not," he said, "But you know what? I can be a jerk. I have been a jerk to you and I owe you an apology."
"No, you don't." she said, "I tricked you and tried to kill you. Nobody can say I didn't ask for it. You used to want an apology from me."
"Yeah, well, that ain't gonna happen, is it? Because you can't feel remorse and you can't fake it, but I genuinely feel bad for being a dick. I knew you couldn't help what you did. I know you can't really understand why you should be sorry. Giving you a hard time over it was petty and immature."
"If you'd forgiven me, we wouldn't be here now." she said.
"What do you mean by that?" he asked.
"You were angry, so you engaged with me. You said harsh things, but we kept talking and sometimes it hurt, but sometimes, for some reason, you made me laugh and I got to like even the bad things you said, because they made me laugh and because I understand that you don't waste your best material on people who don't matter."
He grinned. "And I thought you couldn't get your head around all that."
"It may be time to stop underestimating me."
"Maybe it is. You knew you were special because I said spiteful things?"
"No. I knew I was important to you because you tried to impress me with your insults. You cared what I thought and what i mostly thought was that you're funny and cute and downright sexy when you're angry."
"But still a jerk." he said.
"Yes, but then things changed and you were a lot less of a jerk, but still funny and still trying to impress and you did. You do. I like this better, hanging out with you, getting the sweeter side. I like it when you trust me enough to be honest with me and trust yourself enough to be with me, not just in the same place."
"Isn't that the same thing?" he said.
"And I don't mind that you still use jokes as a shield, because I know sometimes you need a shield." she said, "Sometimes, I do too. It's scary, finding you need one specific person. Puts a lot of power in their hands. It makes me feel like I did just after the Fall, when my wings were gone."
"It's that bad?" he said.
"I said scary. I didn't say bad."
"I never want you to feel vulnerable or trapped." he said.
"I don't think I'll ever feel trapped with you, just held, which is very different."
"Yeah, I get that. I feel that way too."
"It's good to hear you start a sentence with, 'I feel ... '" she said.
"Feels good to be able to." he said.
"Feel, or talk about it?"
"Talk about it. I always felt stuff. I just kept quiet about it. The world didn't need my troubles. Sammy, in particular, didn't need my personal issues getting in his way."
"I think you're wrong. I think Sam, like me, wants and needs to hear them, even the worst of them."
"Ah, don't ask for that," he said, "Because my dark stuff is the darkest. Things I've felt, things I've done, nobody needs to share in all of that."
"Don't you ever want to just tell someone all about it?"
"Never." he said, "But I have told Cas and Sarah and Sam, even Jack and Charlie know some of it. Well, i figure Jack knows all of it now. Omniscience is a bitch. If I need to talk, there are people ready and willing to listen, but I don't wanna be like that, whining to the world about the fact that I was dumb and selfish and evil and let myself get corrupted. You know what happened in Hell. All the angels seem to know."
"I know none of it was your fault. I know you broke the first seal."
"Yeah, which can only be filed under 'My fault.'" he said.
"Like channels worn by centuries of rain." she said, seemingly to herself.
"What?"
"I mention it and your mind falls straight into the pattern of blaming yourself for it."
"Has Sarah been coaching you?"
"No, why? Does she say the same thing?"
"All the time."
"Well, my point is that they needed someone uncorrupted to break the seal. That's why they needed it to be you. The righteous man, who stayed righteous, even in the depths of Hell."
"I was never righteous to begin with." he said.
"You opened the seal, so you were." she said, "So don't be afraid to be yourself around me. Don't hide any part of who you are. I like who you are. I respect and admire you."
"I respect and admire the Hell out of you, too." he said.
She smiled at him. "You're funny."
"Wasn't joking." he said.
