Castiel recognized Central Park instantly – it was that park he had passed when he crossed over to the "friendlier" side of Fifth Avenue earlier that day. From what he could see, it was literally a winter wonderland in the middle of New York, and he was eager to pay it a visit. Central Park struck him as the sort of environment he would be more partial to: peaceful, still, graceful in appearance … at least in comparison with the garish, frenzied heart of the city. Though this was merely the impression he got from standing atop the steps which led into the park.

Assuming that she would be the one to beckon him to progress ahead, he turned to Audrey expectantly. He found that she had already left his side. Castiel spun around and eventually, spotted her around the corner at a small hotdog vendor. She smiled brightly at him when he found her.

"I'm hungry. Do you eat?"

No. "I… have already eaten."

Her eyes narrowed, as if she had realized something. "Ah, that explains it. And here I thought you didn't want that hot chocolate because it had the devil's temperature."

She seemed to possess Dean's sharp sense of humor, but there was something different about it that Castiel couldn't pinpoint. Was it her good-natured tone, as opposed to Dean's condescending one? Was it the warm smile she offered him whenever she did so, as if she were apologizing in unison with her sarcasm? Was it the lack of words such as "dude", "douche" or "mojo" being secured somewhere in the sentence?

He must have appeared visibly flummoxed, as her smile widened for a moment before she turned back to the vendor.

Once her back was turned, he indulged himself in a careful study of her appearance, to put it in innocuous terms. Any other man would have classed what Castiel was doing as "checking out a girl".

From the moment she appeared beside him at Rockefeller Center, the immediate astonishment he had from the sight of her rather eccentric choice of clothing was overcome by the conversation that had followed. But now that he had the chance to return to that reverie, he couldn't help but raise his eyebrows in amazement.

She dressed like – what was her name? Madonna? Cyndi Lauper? In the eighties? Only with more layers due to winter conditions. She stood out like peacock in a desert with her long fire engine red hair, raccoon eyes and choice of attire. It must have been a bizarre spectacle for bystanders, seeing the two of them together.

Before he knew it, she was standing right in front of him, sweeping a hotdog right under his nose.

"Disgusting, isn't it?" she grinned, proceeding towards the steps that led into the park.

It didn't smell any different from the types of food Dean and Sam often consumed. Although he had been offered on several occasions, he graciously refused every time.

"I wouldn't know," he replied, following her. As she took a very unladylike bite of it, he frowned. "Why are you eating it then?"

"Becaushhe i' tasteshh good," she responded with a mouthful.

"Isn't it bad for your body?"

Audrey shrugged as she swallowed before answering. "I take the photos, I'm not the model." Another bite.

"You could be," Castiel murmured absentmindedly.

He continued walking, but stopped when he felt the lack of her presence at his side. He turned around and saw that she hadn't moved, and although her mouth was full, she wasn't chewing. She regarded him with astonished eyes.

"What's wrong?"

She swallowed, and hurried over to him. "That was a really nice thing to say, Castiel!"

He smirked a little. "Nice?"

She glared playfully at him. "Hey! Okay, I meant it was a really sweet thing to say."

"What was?"

"You implied I look like a model?" Her grin vanished and she suddenly looked quite paranoid. "Unless I horribly misinterpreted that and I'm making this conversation embarrassing for the both of us?"

"No, that is what I implied."

"Well…" Castiel frowned. Why was she suddenly averting his gaze and grinning madly? "That was sweet, Castiel. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

They walked in silence as she ate. Occasionally, she waved and said "Hi!" to people who clearly didn't know her as well as he assumed she knew them. She eventually did end up engaging in an actual conversation with someone who either knew her, or was easygoing enough to go along with it. The old man she was having a rather animated exchange with looked as if he practically lived in Central Park. If he did, Castiel couldn't blame him. His first impression was an accurate impression; it truly was a winter wonderland in Central Park.

Castiel gazed at the half-frozen pond that neighbored the path they were walking on; he could see a somewhat misty reflection of the city, mainly the Plaza Hotel. The scenery was gorgeous. He wondered if, within the past few years, he had come across some beautiful sites of the United States, but had been too occupied at the time with the Apocalypse, or another case, to even take notice and enjoy it.

He was fond of the brothers, and he supposed he loved them, but it felt so liberating to be away from them. Not just away from them, but away from everything that came with being near a Winchester. Supernatural cases, cheap motel rooms, miserable diners, the Impala, Dean's oldies rock music, the brothers' colloquialisms, and lots of guns and lots of blood. Castiel didn't necessarily have a problem with it, but as an angel, he was accustomed to being alone and in constant travel. One minute he could be in Jerusalem, the next he could be in Tokyo. Being with the Winchesters meant being tethered to a certain lifestyle, a routine.

Did he enjoy change? Well, he felt used to change, but he wasn't quite sure if he had crossed the line into enjoyment. He was quite content with where he was now: in dazzling New York City, in the tranquil Central Park, with an interesting human girl … who was now frowning pensively at him. The old man she had been talking to had already left.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked.

She continued to frown at him with a mixture of confusion and concern as she pulled her gloves back on. Finally, she spoke. "You look so awkward." She sounded uncertain, like it was a question. "Do you have a… reason for being here? In New York? Like a meeting or something?"

"No." Castiel realized that, for a while, he just wanted to be without reason.

Her shoulders deflated as she seemed to realize something. "Oh. Your family's here, aren't they?"

"I have no family…" Here. HERE. "— uh, here."

"Oh? So … um, vacation?"

"… yes."

"How long?"

"As long as I want?"

She raised her eyebrows, seemingly impressed. "Ooh, he's got the pow-ah!" she sang. Castiel clearly wasn't familiar with the song. "I should have known!"

"How? Why?"

"I don't know, look at you!" She gestured his appearance in an up-down motion. "You look like a busy man, a man with a purpose?" Castiel froze when she rose to her toes and leaned into him to scrutinize his features. "Actually, you look kinda tired – are you jetlagged or something? When was the last time you slept?"

How about never? "… a while."

"Tsk, poor thing," she said, resting back onto the soles of her feet. "You needed this vacation. Well, I like coming here at night, and I'm sure you will too."

"It is nice at night," he observed with a monotone, despite his genuine amazement of the scenery around him.

"Everything's nice to you, Castiel."

"I suppose."

Silence.

Her stride began to slow until she stopped completely. He turned to her. "What's wrong?"

Her eyes regarded him suspiciously for a moment, and it bothered him. Such a lively girl shouldn't look so vulnerable, so something was obviously wrong.

She marched right up to him suddenly. "Forgive me, Castiel, if you're innocent, but as a woman of the twenty-first century, I am obligated to do this."

Before he could even tilt his head with confusion in that way he did, she began groping around through the pockets of his trench coat and his pants. Coherent judgment would have told Castiel that she was obviously on the search for something, but male sensibility provoked other thoughts to frolic about in his mind and metaphorically dangle a mouse in front of the angel's rather exhausted saintliness.

"I, uh – what are you—?"

She frowned when she stopped and allowed him his personal space again, and Castiel wouldn't even admit to himself in his mind that he was little disappointed when she did. He proceeded to do an admirable job of quickly regaining his composure.

"Hmmm."

"Looking for something?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Sorry 'bout that, Castiel," she said sheepishly. She began to hug her arms modestly. "I'm just taking precautions. I don't want to fall for a guy's charms and then have them go all Patrick Bateman on me."

"Who's Patrick Bateman?" His eyes flared. "Did he hurt you?"

"No, but he hurt a lot of women." Castiel looked like he was about to smite someone. She caught his expression, and began to smile wryly. "And he's a fictional character. I watch a lot movies, read a lot of books…" She trailed off as she continued to walk. Castiel followed.

"Do you do that to all the men you meet?"

It was a serious question, and her burst of laughter startled him. "Only the ones that seem too good to be true."

Did she just compliment him? "Um… thank you?"

She scoffed good-naturedly. "Well that was an uncertain sign of gratitude if I ever heard one!"

"My apologies –"

"No no no, it's okay!"

"I am not used to being… complimented."

She immediately appeared crestfallen on his behalf. "For real? Are you that unappreciated at work?"

"It's a thankless job." Understatement of the universe.

"Oh God, no wonder you're on vacation!" She stopped in front of him and gripped his arms, forcing him to look at her in the eyes. "Well, when you go back to work, tell 'em that Audrey said that you're the best at... whatever it is that you do!"

A natural smile formed on Castiel's lips. "I will."

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