Chapter 12.

When Dean arrived at the coffee shop, Anael was sitting at a table, surrounded by a semi-circle of coffee cups and concentrating intently on eating a slice of pie with a generous scoop of ice cream. "Cherry?" he said.

She looked up. "Cherry." she confirmed.

"How many coffees did you have?"

"I'm trying to decide which I like best." she said.

He sat down opposite her. "And do we have a winner?"

She pointed to a cup. "I think I like the vanilla latte the best. The pie is good too." She turned to her left and called out, "Hey, Beth, could you get my friend a vanilla latte and some pie?"

"Cherry for him too?" said Beth.

"Please." said Anael. She turned back to Dean and said, "It's difficult to really know the flavour, but it makes my tongue feel good."

"Well, anything that makes your tongue feel good must be great." he said.

Beth came over and put a cup and plate in front of him. "Hope you like them." she said, "Your friend is quite a fan of the coffee here."

"So I see." he said.

"And the pie." said Anael, "Beth makes the pie herself, Dean. I think it's the best thing that can happen to fruit."

Beth gave her a beautiful smile and left the table.

"Well, you just made her day." said Dean.

"Was what I said appropriate?" she asked.

"Yes, it was. Rule of thumb: if you make someone smile like that by telling them something they worked on is good, that's always appropriate. You're better with people than you think you are."

"I like Beth. She lets me buy as many cups of coffee as I like and she didn't say I was being weird, even though I probably am."

"I think she likes you and every coffee helps pay her rent." He took a mouthful of pie. "This is good!"

"Gabriel says cherry pie is the best."

Dean shrugged. "I could make a strong case for several other flavours, but I never met a cherry pie I didn't love."

"You've taught me a lot about food." she said, "You taught me about bacon and you taught me about pie."

"Yeah, I'm not exactly a gourmet, but I know what's good." he said.

"Did you get the fund arranged?" she said.

"Yes, I did. Everything is organised."

"And we still have time to look at the best of the cars?"

"As promised. But it may not be the best. It's just the one I liked best."

"You know more about cars than anyone I know. You know more about everything. I'm learning so much from you about how to be a better human."

"That's funny, because being a better human is not something I know a lot about."

"Why do you always say things like that? Everyone that matters thinks you're great."

"Maybe that's why they matter, because they see past our faults." he said

"Maybe they see you more clearly than you do." she said.

"I love this pie!" he said. She had a strange way of making him feel vulnerable. Sometimes, it felt as if she could look right into his soul, which seemed unlikely, because angels in general understood humans almost as well as a dog understood global economics.

"I think you're a good person." she said, "A little rough around the edges, maybe and you try a little too hard to be intimidating, but at heart ... "

"Yeah, ask Castiel about the things I've done, the lives I've destroyed." he said.

"He says you're a good person too." she said.

He finished his pie in silence, then said, "Okay, let's leave Beth a tip worthy of that pie and then go see your car."

Back in the Impala again, he put the paperwork safely in the glove box and said, "If the car's not right for you, we can go back for one of the others. Or we can look again tomorrow. Never settle, for cars or in general. Live life on your terms, whatever species you end up as. Giving up who you are to fit in or to please someone else is never the right move. One way or another, we will find a car you can love."

They soon made it to the final car of the day and he saw her eyes widen at the sight of it. The '69, two door, electric blue Camaro with a white stripe down the middle was visually appealing and when the seller asked if she would like to try it, she took the keys, got in and drove it a short distance before turning it around and bringing it back.

He'd advised her earlier in the day not to get too openly interested in a car and she was very matter of fact when she got out and said, "The car handles well." but he could see she was excited.

He looked it over with care. As an angel, she was safe from any harm a badly-maintained vehicle could cause. Cas had almost totalled his car in a crash and had walked away unscathed. However, if she were to become human, she would need a safe ride and then, she would likely be taking passengers out in it. All those girls' shopping trips with the ladies of the bunker.

Having satisfied himself that the car was good, he took her aside and said, "It's worth the price. You want it?"

"Yes." she said.

He turned to the seller. "This is a great car. I think we'll take it."

"Perfect!" said the man, "I can see she's going to a good home."

"I promise, she'll be taken care of." said Dean.

"I'll just grab the paperwork." said the seller.

When he was out of earshot, Dean said, "You're sure this is the one? You don't just like her because you think you're supposed to?"

"I like her because she's perfect." said Anael, "May I give her a name?"

"Of course. She's yours."

"I'll call her Libby."

"Libby?"

"Short for Liberty, because that's what she is. I can go anywhere now, without using my wings."

"I like that." he said, "That's what a car should be. It's what the Impala is to me ... well, that and a lot more."

The seller returned and the sale was quickly accomplished. He left them to it and Anael looked thoughtfully at the car keys in her hand. "This means we go home in separate cars." she said, "I'll miss talking with you."

He took the Bonnie Tyler mixtape out of the player and tossed it to her. "The start of your music collection." he said. He wasn't looking forward to driving home alone either. For an angel, she was weirdly good company. Heading straight back to the bunker seemed like the wrong thing to do. They had found the right car and they should celebrate, at least a little. "You wanna swing by a bar on the way home?" he said, "We can drink to Libby."

"And you could teach me about how to be social in bars." she said.

He looked her up and down. "Sweetheart, in that particular vessel, being social in bars will not be a problem. It may even be something you want to avoid. A lot of creeps hang out in bars. Like me." he said.

She laughed. "I think I can handle them."

"I strongly advise against that. A lot of them are not pleasant to handle."