He couldn't believe he was here. He couldn't believe what he was asking, let alone who he was asking. His efforts were soon made pointless.
"Oh yeah! There are demons in New York - plenty! And sorry bro - not gonna help you smoke them, nooo can-do."
Gabriel's words compelled Castiel to cast a wary glance around the Starbucks café, painfully aware of the nine other pairs of ears within the proximity. Everybody appeared completely unresponsive to his words, and his volume.
That anomaly aside, he glowered finally. "Why not?"
"Not only am I not gonna help you," he resumed in an ironically obliging tone, while spraying whipped cream onto one of the many cakes on the table between them (Gabriel and that sweet tooth of his), "– but I'm gonna advise that you back off."
Abandoning all thought for the whipped cream smiley-face Gabriel was creating, Castiel eyed him severely. "Why?"
"Caaaas," Gabriel drawled fondly, "do you remember Matthew 7:12?"
Castiel nodded, and commenced reciting without conscious effort. "Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them: for this is the law and – wait, what are you implying?" he said, his tone suddenly elevating sharply. "That I should overlook their presence because they've entitled us the same?" A more or less troublesome thought struck him, and the severity of his gaze dimmed. "... Demons know we're here."
"Wellll... not necessarily us, not angels!" he clarified, peppering about with a medley of sprinkles and chocolate chips as though it was the most normal thing in the world. "But they know that another one of their kind, as in, something paranormal, is always around the corner." He had begun animatedly, but sometime halfway, his sprinkling task demanded profound concentration, and so lost commitment to their conversation. "If you wanna be left alone... I suggest ... you allow them ... the same ... treatment."
Castiel regarded him with an expression of muted outrage, and was inwardly annoyed that he wasn't looking to bear the brunt of his reaction.
"NO," he said, in an assertive tone that achieved the same impact of bellowing. "They are demons. That is zero tolerance."
Although the sprinkling did not waver - one hand did, however, alternate a shaker for a bottle of caramel - Gabriel smirked at his vehemence.
"Something's clouding your resolve if you're here yakkin' to me about them and not out there creating mass biblical genocide."
Fed up with Gabriel's lack of attention, Castiel swiped the caramel bottle from his hand, succeeding in snaring his brother's regard but realizing belatedly that the act was rather juvenile.
"I was asking for your help, not your opinion." His tone was bitchier than what should have been achievable for an angel.
"My opinion is help," he sassed, snatching the bottle back possessively and using it to punctuate his point, "just not the help you were expecting or caring to hear."
There was silence as Castiel deplored this reality, but was also silently grateful that Gabriel was too busy adorning the cakes with caramel G's to be outwardly smug about it.
"Fine. I don't need your help anyway," he grumbled. "You simply seemed eager to form some sort of rapport."
"Oh-ho, no you don't!" Gabriel laughed discerningly, settling everything down on the table to eye him knowingly. "You can't play the familial card for this, Buster! The best thing I can do for you is tell you that your intentions suck! Seriously, poke one bear and the whole sloth will come out quicker than Ricky Martin."
Sensing that this was the truth and deciding not to acknowledge it, Castiel didn't reply. Instead, he dropped his scowl to the sweets before him. Gabriel dipped his head to meet with his eyes.
"Wanna share a brownie?" he asked with abstract sympathy, pushing a plate towards him. "Red velvet cupcake? Rich toffee pecan bar? Very berry coffee cake? It's low fat! Grande soy milk skinny latte, shot with vanilla, a sprinkle of cinnamon with a lemon twist?"
Castiel chose to ignore Gabriel's grin of approval when he, surprisingly, accepted this from his hand. He stared down at the beverage, his eyes mingling with wistfulness as his mind connected this object to a more pleasant thought.
"Audrey drinks these," he said absentmindedly.
"Who, little red? She was foxyyy." He grinned salaciously as he buttered a muffin, literally. Coincidence though it may be, Castiel did not enjoy watching this in light of the words preceding it. When he stood up, Gabriel's grin vanished and his head whipped up. "Where you goin'?"
"What I came here to do is done."
"No no no, stay bro!" he cried. He rabidly gestured Castiel to sit back down. "Let's work on this rapport, shall we?"
Slowly and hesitantly, Castiel reclaimed his seat.
"So! What did you do after you left here?" His genial smile pulled to a wicked smirk. "Did you rock the casbah? Did she hop upon the wild pony? Did you batter dip the corn dog? Did she take a ride on the disco stick?" At Castiel's blank stare, Gabriel sniggered and swept a hand over his head. "Whoosh!"
"I don't understand what you're asking," replied Castiel. The reality that Gabriel, still congenitally an angel like Castiel, exceeded his level of worldliness, was not encouraging. "Are you utilizing euphemisms?"
Gabriel fixed him with his most amused of glances laced with incredulity before he spoke, his tone coordinating his expression seamlessly. "How does she talk to you? She must have the patience of a saint."
His eyes shone at the thought of her. "She is interesting."
Had he not gone astray with his reminiscence of her, he would have caught the knowing smirk growing on Gabriel's face as he witnessed this happening.
"What's she like?" he asked. Castiel, still lost in a memory, mistook his surreptitiously intrigued tone for indifference.
He told him. He told him her interests, her quirks, the things he liked, the things he didn't ... when he came to, he was met with Gabriel's mixed expression of amusement and mockery. "Ye gods ... is she a rebel or a lesbian?" he snorted.
Despite Castiel's weary glance in response, there was still a trace of a smile within it.
"Yep, she sure is foxy," Gabriel randomly resumed, not really adding anything to the conversation. "Though she should really take it easy on the eyeliner. Put on anymore and she may get accused of doing blackface."
He was staring out the window when he said this. Sensing that there was a relevance he had yet to perceive, Castiel twisted in his chair and followed his gaze.
There she was, Audrey, on the highest step of the Duffy Square TKTS stairs, and she wasn't alone.
"Who is that guy?" Gabriel asked, his tone indicating that he wasn't as curious as he was intrigued to gauge Castiel's reaction.
"I don't know."
But he was going to find out!
Without further acknowledgment to Gabriel, who was glowing with amusement, he rose from his seat and swept out of the café. Castiel's eyes never left her as he maneuvered through the horde of pedestrians, doing so effortlessly, as everyone sensed his intangible authoritative nature. The mystery man descended the glowing red stairs just as Castiel had begun to embark them, and just when he was about to permit him his best subtly menacing glare, this man looked at him up and down, smirked, and winked.
The angel froze, in the midst of narrowing his eyes into a scowl. Not knowing what to do with that unexpected gesture, he dithered internally for a long while, before glancing up to where Audrey was, who had yet to spot him. With a heavy sigh, she flopped to sit on the highest step. He ascended towards her, and wasn't noticed until halfway, to which she then shot to her feet.
"Is everything alright?" he asked, pausing in his journey up to her to note her skittishness.
"How long have you been there?" Her tone could be described as either paranoid or immensely pleased to see him.
"I didn't hear anything if that's what you're concerned about." The bitterness of his tone was apparent, but too faint to remark upon. He ascended another step towards her.
"I'm not concerned. Not anymore," she added with a miserable smile, "because I've come to the conclusion... that I'm socially retarded."
Another step up towards her. "What leads you to believe that?"
"You know that guy I was talking to? He's an accounting temp for Bass magazine - he's an absolute dreamboat." This strange noun drew a frown from him, to which she mistook for resentment. "I mean, he's got nothing on you! ... but he's French! And shops at Banana Republic!" She delivered a little laugh, as though the spectacle of her point couldn't be made any clearer.
"And you," he embarked the step just below her, so that they were of equal height, "are attracted to him?"
It took her a few seconds to identify what the edge of his tone conveyed, and when she did, a silly smile erupted onto her face. Coming at equal height made it easier for her to lay her hands restfully on his broad shoulders.
"Maybe a little," she mumbled bashfully, running her gloved hands down his arms and toying with his cuffs. "Doesn't matter though, 'cause he's gay."
"I see."
"And married."
"Oh."
"With kids."
"Hm."
"And his visa's expiring soon!"
"..."
"That's bad."
"Oh."
"We're probably fifth cousins or something," she chuckled humorlessly. "Or there's the matter that - inessential though it is, still existing - he's a Frenchman, I'm technically English, so there's that whole Napoleonic Wars thingy in our history."
"Do you believe you're drawn to the wrong people?" It was like speaking in third person.
She seemed pleased that connection was made, nodding earnestly. "I clearly don't know what I'm doing if I'm gravitating towards the wrong people!" Her expression contorted suddenly. "What about you? There's gotta be a catch as usual. Are you gay?"
He gave her a look. He wasn't quite sure what the look was, but he expected it to both answer her question and express his incredulity simultaneously. Her knitted brow wasn't a promising sign where his achievements were concerned.
"Hm. That reaction could go either way." Something behind her eyes clicked, and they illuminated triumphantly. "Either way! Maybe you're bisexual! That would explain a lot." Wisely, he chose not to ask why. "So, are you gay, or what?"
His hands curled around her wrists, which had long moved up from his cuffs to the lapels of his trench coat; either to tacitly answer her question or to impede to her constant fiddling.
"What kind of a question is that?"
"You can't answer a question with another question," she said, grinning impishly.
He sighed, relenting. "I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"I don't think I am?"
"You don't think you're gay?" The conversation was beginning to resemble a call-and-response song verse. "Wow, either you've been around more times than a hula hoop or you haven't gotten any at all."
In response, he fixed her with dull look. "You asked me as though the possibility of it being so is a bad thing."
"Did I? Oh, I didn't mean it that way," she amended, pulling away and moving to sit on the steps, with him following, "I'm totally cool with homosexuality, I'm a voting democrat and all, I just, lately I feel like there's a catch with everyone I meet." She was oblivious to the way he tensed at this. "I can't think of a word that has the same definition of "catch" sans negative connotations, but that's essentially what I mean. With everyone I meet, there's always something about them that I don't initially know, but once I find out, it changes my whole perception of them."
"Uh –" Whoops, that wasn't meant to come out. Now she was looking at him, interested to hear his input. He struggled. "If I'm not mistaken, that's called a secret, something of which everyone has."
"Why do I always have to find out?"
He locked eyes with her significantly longer than necessary. "Maybe you won't." He tore his eyes away. "Perhaps you should consider it a compliment. People trust you and open up to you. People believe you deserve to know the truth." The words emerged unconsciously, as though there was a fraction of him yearning to preach the greater part of himself.
"What if I find out before they have a chance to tell me themselves?"
He stared at her. "Then they don't deserve to know you." Again, words emerged from somewhere undetermined. The greater part of him then retaliated, "Or it's simply none of your business."
For a second, she seemed to bridle at his bluntness, but eventually gave him the benefit of the doubt.
"Yeah. Yeah! I shouldn't get cut up about Sebastian," she gestured emphatically to where this man once stood, "I barely know the guy! Besides, he doesn't know what he's missing. He could have had all of this!" Castiel didn't know where to look when she suddenly grabbed her chest for emphasis. "I'm too much woman for him!"
"Considering his sexual orientation, that would be the obvious answer," he said dryly.
She sent him a dopey smile before twisting around to sit facing him. "What about you, Castiel? Any women troubles... or men?"
He glanced downwards at her, briefly considering mirroring her move since it felt awkward facing away from her while she addressed him like this.
"None in the context you're speaking of."
"Hm."
"Although," he began reluctantly, knowing this was going to swell her ego beyond belief, "you have been an interesting addition in my ... life." If one could call it that.
It achieved the anticipated effect, indicated only by way of a smirk. "By saying "although", you're implying that I'm relevant to a degree."
"Yes, but I don't consider you a problem." Why was he even saying this? He knew she would take glory in this; her grin was confirmation.
"Sooo, I'm relevant to a degree but you don't see me as a problem. A problem is something that plagues your mind; so in what other form can I occupy your mind but for a more positive reason?"
"You're only exploring this for the benefit of your ego." His indistinct smirk, surfacing within his otherwise dull look, challenged her to negate him.
Instead, she pasted a look of profound curiosity on her face. "Does it really? What's the answer? No, really, Castiel, I need to hear it from you!"
His smile was shrewd. "I'm not giving you the satisfaction."
The naive facade dropped and she mirrored his smile. "Then neither am I," she replied suggestively. She was flirting again. It was undoubtedly pleasant ... but now he had to ask.
"Why are you interested in that man if you –"
"Anyway!" she interrupted. Considering her exuberance, he wasn't sure if this was deliberate. "I'm glad you're here!"
"You are? Why?"
"There's something I kinda want to discuss with you," she furrowed her brow suddenly, "but I kinda don't, knowing how these sort of conversations end."
"You can tell me anything."
She nodded, visibly preoccupied with assembling the right words. "Hypothetically speaking, how can human beings be split into either Heaven or Hell in the afterlife? They're two absolutes, whereas humans can't be defined as either one wholly. There's good and bad in everyone."
He smiled.
"What's so funny?"
"I'm not laughing."
"Well something's amusing you!"
"What affected your curiosity in this subject?"
"Nothing!"
She was a terrible liar. He humored her anyway.
"It's a common misconception that Heaven is a luxurious realm for the righteous."
There was a long pause before she realized there would be no further elaboration.
"... is it not?"
"Heaven is the place where God dwells, and Hell isn't."
Her head tilted in a vain attempt to understand. "Yeah, and?" Her charming insolence revived his smile a little.
"God determines who is granted mercy and absolution. Those who aren't... are condemned to eternal damnation."
She snorted at the simplicity of this, though her labored smile demonstrated her scorned intelligence. "Uh, yeah, I know that! What I'm asking is, how can God split human souls categorically into either black or white." Reflection crossed her face before she hastily added, "As in the fixed points of a moral compass, not skin color. I think it's unfair for the Good People to share Heaven with the People Who Were Forgiven, don't you think? I understand that God probably makes allowances for a rough childhood or a traumatizing experience when he's considering a soul for exoneration, but still, it's unfair to those who followed the Ten Commandments as closely as they could, intentionally or not."
The thought she had clearly exercised into the topic impressed him. He was about to verbalize these sentiments with undisguised admiration, but she stopped him with a flat look, informing him that she desired only an answer.
"It's decided by what is in one's heart," he answered, the admiration in his eyes lingering, almost teasing her for taking such involuntary interest in something he valued.
"Hell must be real empty since no one deliberately hopes to be... evil!"
"No one in Hell thinks of themselves that way. They just are. It's not that they're misguided - it's the misguided ones that are generally granted mercy - it's simply that a human is capable of being as purely malicious as a –" The next word awoke him to the dangerous direction the conversation was going. "– demon. We are all God's creatures, and He created Lucifer after all."
"Okay..." After a lull of mere nodding as she digested this, she spoke again. "Let's say there's this man who has been perfect his entire life. Then, one day, he has a really bad day, and he rapes a thirteen year old girl. Suddenly, he deserves to go to Hell. Is that right? Is he really worthy of Hell for one psychotic act?"
The swift construction of this scenario alarmed him. For a while, he just stared, seeking to interpret her expression for more than it was.
"Audrey, I hope you're not speaking from experience."
Her surprise was, thankfully, genuine. "No no! I had a good childhood."
He nodded in acknowledgment. "In regards to your question... I don't know. That's for God to decide."
"That's a bummer of a job."
He stared forward grimly. "People should give Him more credit. People shouldn't question or criticize His decisions."
From the corners of his eyes, he detected her skeptical glance. It was a matter of time before she began regarding him and his religious certitude with the same curiosity and unease that he often gave her. She seemed to shake away whatever thoughts had presented themselves, and resumed.
"People in Heaven wouldn't accept him," she referred to her fictional rapist.
"Perhaps people who don't accept him don't exist in his idea of Heaven."
This didn't seem to quell her confusion, but it appeared she had moved on to another thought.
"Well I can't help but remember that all these bad people - murderers and rapists and what have you... as much as people want to label them animals, they were all once a beautiful little baby."
"You are too compassionate for your own good." Although his eyes glimmered with admiration again, his tone was cautionary.
"So shoot me."
"I wouldn't wish that upon you." There was a pause as both relished the lighthearted banter. Now he had to ask again. "What engendered these thoughts? Do you know someone whose fate may incite indecision in God?"
"I know of people like that." While it was a fair response, her eyes told him that she was deflecting. "Where does Roman Polanski go when he dies? Because Roman Polanski," she lifted up a hand, weighing his name, "Charles Manson," she raised her other hand likewise and trailed off with an ambivalent expression as she moved her hands in a weighing motion. "The extent of their crimes don't exactly match up."
Thanks to Sam and Dean, he knew who they were and their respective crimes.
"What are you saying? That he belongs in Heaven?"
"No! I'm making a point. They're both bad people," she grimaced suddenly, as though she feared his reaction to her viewpoint, "just in different measures, and yet, it seems they share the same fate."
"Audrey."
"Yes?"
Why he said her name, he didn't know. Perhaps it was to reassure her that he wasn't appalled by her deliberation and spare her from the daunting silence as he formulated a response.
"Heaven is not infinitely luxurious, contrary to popular belief - Heaven is peace. Hence, "Rest in Peace". As I've said, Heaven is where God dwells, first and foremost."
Her brow furrowed, puzzled. "So it's just His home? It's eternal serenity? It's one's own idea of Heaven? I'm lost!"
"You should be," he caught her eye to ensure she followed him to the bottom line, "it's not as simple as you've initially construed it to be. It's a labyrinth of obscurities that you cannot fathom until you are there."
The way comprehension gradually emerged on her face was glorious.
"Ohhh. It makes sense that it doesn't make sense!" With an accomplished smile, she bowed her head. "Thank you for illuminating that to me, Professor Castiel."
Optimism colored his features. "Does this mean you believe in God now?"
Blink. "Nah!" When his expression fell, she giggled. "Entertaining the thought is a lot more fun when it's with you, though!" she heartened, beaming. "Some people I know like to do it with a lot less of an open mind!" Her eyes no longer coordinated her smile. "Some people like to then blow it all out of proportion." Her smile faltered. "Some people like to judge me because I look at things abstractly when all I want is a bit of theoretical discussion." She was wringing the hem of her skirt now. "Some people like to then fashion this bastardized image of me and convince some other people that that's who I am."
His expression of surprise had fallen progressively into one of concern in synchrony with hers. He considered reaching out to settle her wringing hands, but didn't.
"Did some people induce these thoughts of Heaven and Hell?"
This earned him a dismal little smile before she stilled her hands by peering down at them.
"It's not their fates I'm concerned with. It's just that I had the exact same conversation with some people, except before that, I'd called them my friends."
This time, he really did reach out to embrace her hands, and did not speak until she looked at him. "I'm sorry some people are narrow minded."
She scoffed, not necessarily at him, but as though his words were too lenient. "Some people can go to Hell."
When something big happens in a chapter and there is a sudden lack of reviews, you know something's wrong, lol; so tell me, did the last chapter rub most of you the wrong way? Was it too soon? Let me know ;)
And sorry for the lateness; life became ridiculously hectic, and I expect it to be like that post-2011, which is why I hope to complete this story before then. Unlikely, but we'll see...
Read and review :D