Hello readers!

I can tell this question is going to emerge regularly so I might as well address it now: will Castiel ever reveal his identity to Audrey? Firstly, the premise of the story is to simulate New York City sitcoms (Friends, Seinfeld, 30 Rock, How I Met Your Mother, Sex in the City), and as you know, sitcoms don't really have ongoing plots. Also, the earlier half? of this story is supposed to have a sort of Christmassy feel to it (think Elf, it also has that fish-out-of-water aspect to it, which strongly applies to Castiel).

A lot of random scenarios will transpire as they would in traditional sitcoms, the romantic relationship will grow slowly but not without its hints, like Ross and Rachel from Friends, and Castiel's identity will be constantly signaled à la the Mother in How I Met Your Mother - so eventually, all will be revealed. I can't reveal it early on because then it will get all serious, wouldn't it? ;)

That's my oblique way of saying I simply cannot write supernatural-related (as in the subject, not the show) stories and that I watch far too many sitcoms.

His angelic aura groped around the coffeehouse and counted eleven pairs of eyes, staff included, fixated on his back. The café was conveniently across the road from where she had fallen, a place for her to both to rest for a moment and receive a shot of caffeine once she roused from her comatose state. Castiel had her laid on the seat of the farthest booth, while he sat on the table, awaiting for her to come to.

The story he had fed the staff was that she was intoxicated and needed coffee, despite the fact that he didn't even proceed to order said coffee. And yet, they and the patrons continued to stare. They must have thought the pair of them had been up to some hard partying, what with Castiel's lightening bolt make up and Audrey's... everything.

For a second, he thought he detected a very abnormal presence in the room, but he just passed it off as the general discomfort of having that many mortal eyes fixed upon him.

He knew it was easier to just place two fingers against her temple and rouse her himself, but he decided that she should go at her own pace. That and her being unconscious for longer grants him stronger incentive to lecture her later. A coma was not a potential threat, he was certain of that; earlier, he had calculated how long she would be in this state by pressing a hand against her forehead. She had about ten or fifteen minutes, give or take.

His eyes never left her until just then, when he peered around to the other people in the café, knowing that when he did, they would automatically resume their own businesses. As soon as Castiel had turned to them, they did exactly that. They weren't very subtle about it at all. However, one man, the cashier, did not look away. He had been staring at Castiel intently, and perhaps with an element of amusement, ever since he had set foot on the premises. The opportunity to question this man's motives with his eyes was lost when she began to stir.

It took a few seconds for her to recognize the throbbing pain on the back of her head, right away dispelling an otherwise pleasant awakening. She had been ninety-five per cent healed; he ensured that a bump and some grazing remained, and a wicked headache, for practical purposes. She moaned, grabbing a fistful of her hair in discomfort, and her eyes reluctantly opened. Castiel made sure he was the first thing she would see.

"You shouldn't have run."

While his eyes were severe, hers trembled against his. "Who... who are you?"

His proverbial heart sank. With one hand propped up against the crown of her seat, he leaned down to a very close proximity, studying her petrified blue eyes.

"Audrey, it's me, it's Castiel. Do you remember me? Audrey?" He desperately searched her eyes for any flicker of recognition.

She proved herself to be a gifted actor using her talents for evil when the characteristic glint in her eyes reappeared.

"I'm just screwing with you," she grinned. He didn't look impressed at all. Withdrawing from that closeness, he reassumed his dour solemnity. "What happened?"

"You and your feet had a bit of an incident with a road and some snow."

Her lips quirked into a smile. "Thank you for phrasing my slipping over in such an amusing way."

"You didn't listen to me." His icy tone and dark regard dared her to negate him, and her smile vanished. "I disapproved of your proposal to take a photograph with... that man, but you didn't listen. And you ran." He regarded her with condescending curiosity. "Between you and me, I thought you would be wiser to know that the roads weren't in a condition to be running on."

"Yeah yeah yeah," she nonchalantly waved her hand about, "I'm sorry, okay? Look, can we just –"

"Don't dismiss me." His tone was grim and almost threatening, silencing her instantly. "You nearly died."

Both his tone and his words made her flinch. "That's stretching it."

He eyed her testily. "It is not an exaggeration and that's all I'll say."

"Castiel –" A gloved hand stretched out and patted whatever she could reach, which happened to be his thigh. "– it's just a little bump, nothing you can't get from having your head knocked against the headboard." At his thrown reaction, she shot him a look. "Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about."

He sighed, shrugging off her tongue-in-cheek words. Relief and exasperation spiraled through him in a nauseating sensation. Peering down to Audrey, who was smiling reluctantly up at him, he decided that things could have been worse. Normally he would react this way to say, demon possession, and yet here he was, granting her the very same attitude and it was because she fell over.

The whole thing was monstrously enigmatic.

Demonstrating an act of boldness, Castiel reached down and gently swept strands of hair away from her eyes, knowing full well of how his fingertips feathered her brow. His hand lingered against her cheekbone when this gesture was done. It could easily have fallen into a rather romantic moment, but then the very same strands fell back into place and Castiel's compulsion for order kicked in, and he obsessively tried brushing it back into place. He withdrew when she slapped his hand away.

"Stop that. These are frontal bangs," she muttered, styling her fringe to her liking, "they're supposed to fall over my face."

"Oh," he mustered thickly. "My apologies."

When she began an attempt in sitting up, he quickly held out his hand to assist her. With a bit of hesitation and resentment, she accepted it, and pulled herself to sit up with his aid. He moved from his place on the table and settled in the seat across from her. She smirked a little, though her eyes still held indignation, when she noticed her surroundings.

"You took me to Starbucks?"

"You needed ice," he lied. Then, he quickly fostered the typical pretense of what a human (therefore, a being without his magical healing powers and what have you) would do in his position. "I think you should go to the hospital."

"I'm fine," she grumbled, teetering off of her seat. "I'm gonna use the bathroom."

When she was gone, he indulged himself in a smirk at her grumbling. Her chipper mood had clearly been put off by her little mishap and his scolding that followed. He wouldn't put it past her for her pride to have been more hurt than her head. She prided herself as being a very confident young woman, and yet gravity was the one to finally do her an indignity and for him to call her out on it.

There was a presence at his side and it presented him with a cup of coffee.

"I didn't order anything," he immediately said without so much of a glance at the server, frowning at the steaming beverage before him.

"Nonsense," sang the attendant in an alarmingly familiar voice. He then occupied Audrey's seat, his face morphing into one more acquainted with. "This one's on me!"

Gabriel.

He seemed to take Castiel's stunned expression as something else. "Sorry, did you want soy milk?"

"Gabriel?" There were a million things he wanted to say and do, but Castiel couldn't help but notice his brother's Starbucks uniform. He nearly smirked. "Father's promoted you I see."

"Oh yeah!" he beamed, tremendously pleased to see that his brother had developed a sense of humor. "He insisted that I expand my skills within the hospitality and tourism field."

"What are you doing here?" He gripped the cell phone in his pocket.

"I like it here," Gabriel declared bluntly. "New Yorkers are so easy to fool. You should try it one day. And don't bother calling Sammy and Deany –" Castiel's hold on his cell automatically released. "– I don't wanna be startin' somethin' here."

"I'm aware of the "something" that Michael Jackson doesn't want to be starting."

"Oh! You caught the reference!" he grinned, appearing exceptionally proud of Castiel. "By the way, nice make-up. David Bowie circa Ziggy Stardust? Ve-ry glam!"

Castiel's gaze turned hostile. "If you are hurting anyone –"

"I'm not hurting anyone!" he denied in a sing-song voice, with a roll of his eyes and flourish of his hand. "I'm a dickish angel, not a dick." He leaned in suddenly; his regard expressive. "Though, are you here to hurt people, Cas? That pretty gal you were with seemed a bit knocked around, don't you think?"

"She slipped on the icy roads," he said, frowning gravely at the memory. "She fractured her head badly, but I healed her before anyone could discern the full damage."

There was a long pause as Castiel recalled the whole incident silently to himself, and Gabriel watched him the entire time, his features mingling with an emotion that aspired to be something more devious than what it actually was.

"You know Cas, if you're not careful, you might just turn into the very stereotype of what an angel is through the average human's mind."

His gaze drifted up to Gabriel with begrudging interest, and did not like the smug smirk he received when he did.

"See, this is why I'm in a great position. I have all the powers of an angel, and I can do whatever I want!"

"At least I don't blow my own horn," he rejoined, his gaze sneering.

"What do you have to be humble about? You're not that great," Gabriel scoffed, shooting him a snobbish regard. "Just remember, you're an angel, sent to do Daddy's will. You're not a fairy godmother - you don't grant wishes and you don't protect humans of your own volition."

"What do you care?" It alarmed Castiel that his aloofness was becoming less sincere and more affected. Perhaps a part of him secretly appreciated a brother bestowing him advice, regardless of its nature, just like the old days.

"You're my brother," he sighed melodramatically with a sniff. He held a fist forward. At Castiel's questioning glance, he nodded approvingly at it. "Come on, man, pound it. We're Gabby and Cassie!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Who calls us that?"

"I know what you're thinking," he said furtively, leaning into him once more. "You want me to get out of here, huh? As much as you may believe that I'm crossing your paths, you're actually crossing mine. I live here."

"You live here?"

"Well, I dwell here," he amended hastily, gesturing himself and his surroundings. "And Vegas, actually! They're even easier to swindle than these knickerbockers. And it's perfect! They pass off any weird phenomenons made by my lonesome as a cause of all the alcohol and drugs!" He pressed his hands together in a prayer and pointed his eyes upwards. "Father bless America."

"If you hurt anyone –" His glowering tone drew back Gabriel's attention, as he pulled something out of his pockets, "– I will not hesitate to use this on you."

Gabriel stared with unusual amusement at the item in his hands. "Okay, MacGuyver."

This reaction had Castiel peering down at his hands. Much to his chagrin, he found that he was threatening him with a waffle cone. How on earth did that get in there? Clearing his throat, he then pulled out the correct item. A dagger.

"I meant this."

Gabriel's eyes widened comically, but not because of the weapon.

"Damn, that trench coat... what is it, your TARDIS?"

"I'm not joking," Castiel said sharply.

"Cas - I can call you Cas, right?" Castiel's dispassionate stare didn't change. "This is New York, people get hurt every single day. How will you know if it's me? And –" He held up a pointed finger, highlighting his next point, "– it won't be, because I have no intention of hurting anyone." He then coughed, and it sounded suspiciously like the word "physically".

"I will know. Because we're brothers, right?" Castiel smirked patronizingly. Gabriel bit the inside of his cheek with the same subtext that one would have when rolling their eyes, and leaned back on his chair.

"I sense Ginger Spice is nearly done in the powder room," he said, flippantly inspecting his nails. His eyes glimmered with innuendo when they met with Castiel's. "May I ask what your business is with her? Protecting her from someone, or something? Is she a victim? You and the Tweedles on a case in the Big Apple?"

"The brothers are not with me," he replied, unconsciously mirroring his brother's motion of leaning back on his chair. "I came to New York on my own accord. And she's... a friend."

The pause must have been very obvious, as a smirk emerged immediately.

"You know, if there's one thing I've learned about mankind through my years of interacting with them, is that it is impossible for a man and woman to simply be just friends for the entirety of their relationship." A thought visibly occurred to him. "Unless they're related... but in some states, that doesn't matter. Never bump into a fellow angel in Arkansas, bro. You might elope and get to know them in the biblical sense. Hiyooooo!"

Castiel didn't respond to that. The conversation had run its course and he just wanted Gabriel to leave. He seemed to sense the same as he rose to his feet.

"Don't pussyfoot around the fire, Cas," he urged with finality. "In this case, a fire crotch."

With a closing wink, Gabriel morphed back into his disguise and strolled away with a swagger in his step. As expected, Audrey returned that very moment, evidently in a much better mood than earlier.

Upon noticing Castiel's dazed look, her small smile vanished. "What's wrong?"

Oblivious to the implication, he went on and asked. "What's a fire crotch?"

It would dreadfully appear that she found this incredibly vulgar. His eyes widened when he saw her raise her hand to strike him across the face.

"He said it," he blurted, pointing an incriminatory finger at Gabriel, before she could make the impact.

Strutting up to him like a woman on a mission, she proceeded to slap him instead. Gabriel had the good sense to turn his head upon impact, creating the illusion that her attack had any effect.

"You are sleazy, you know that? I want to speak to your manager!"

Although in disguise, Castiel could still recognize Gabriel's defining smirk. "I am the manager, hotshot."

"UGH!" With an uppity toss of her hair, she spun around and flounced back over to Castiel, who had been watching, much to his own disbelief when he caught himself, with a sense of bizarre interest.

He saw Gabriel angle to one side to catch his eye as he mouthed, "Tattletale!".

She seized Castiel's wrist. "We're leaving!"

The last thing he saw before he was completely yanked out of the café was Gabriel mischievously wagging his eyebrows at him.

Let's pretend Gabriel never died, yeah? I doubt he'll return later on anyway.

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