It was completely silent, but the call for an explanation had never been louder.

Finally, they spoke, however together, in a tangled chorus.

"Allow me to explain —"

"WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?"

Silence again.

Castiel stepped forward. "Professor —"

"UH UH!" Professor thrust out his hand, holding out a Styrofoam cup like a weapon, and the angel stopped. With two emphatic motions of this cup, he punctuated two words: "Explanation! Now!"

He saw no reason to prevaricate anymore. "I am an angel of the Lord."

"I said explanation, now!"

"I have given you my explanation," he retorted sharply, "I am an angel."

"I don't hear explaining!"

His eyes twitched to scowl in the face of such illogically defiant atheism but it was never effected, as an outside voice coursed into the room. "Professor? Was that you?"

Grimacing at his luck, Castiel clamped a hand over Professor's mouth and lugged him back inside the closet, fumbling to close the door as he thrashed about like a dying cockroach in protest. He was easy to take hold of, not so easy to secure grip on. All frantic movements stilled when he exacted him with a fierce gaze that threatened and pleaded for silence all at once. Eyes of intense blue pinned those of panic-stricken brown, holding them captive as the owner of the outside voice wandered into the room, made only a slack effort to find him by calling another "Professor?", before retreating.

It was then that he released him, and straightaway, Professor resumed interrogation. "Explanation! N—"

With a snap of his fingers, Castiel stripped him of his voice, and with the same hand, he pointed a finger at him.

"Listen to me very carefully. Professor, look at me," he husked, inclining his head in an effort to beckon him away from the horror of his vocal loss, "I am an angel, sent by God to walk and monitor the earth, following events of which held the prospects to bring about the Apocalypse."

"THE APOCALYPSE?" mouthed Professor, as though screaming.

"Yes."

Professor was not only silent, which was a given considering Castiel's earlier maneuver, but he was speechless. His mouth worked as if producing only static, yet his gaping eyes glimmered with a salad of emotions that Castiel could not distinguish, but only understand its doing. After all, telling an average human being that the Apocalypse was feasible was bound to elicit some interesting reactions.

Wafting a hand over Professor's face, he restored his voice and when he heard himself exhale, he knew it had been done.

"You're pulling my leg, right?" he squeaked finally, following the angel out of the closet, "Y–you're yanking my chain?"

Taking this literally, the angel looked at him strangely before shaking his head. "I'm doing neither of those things."

Despite having asked the question, Professor was too overwrought to even listen. "Angels, let alone God, do not exist! They don't, they just don't!" His zealous pacing stopped suddenly. "But aliens…"

Already wise to where this was heading, Castiel angled his head warily. "No…"

"You're an alien!" Professor declared, face lighting up joyously like the sun. Castiel was quick to look pained.

"No," he replied tightly, his impatience wearing thin.

"Yes! Yes, that's it!" he piped triumphantly, punching a pointed finger in his direction. "Y–you're a Time Lord! You're the Doctor!"

"Doctor who?" He could have sworn he's had this conversation before.

"Yes, exactly!" His eyes dilated, delirious with glee. "I knew it! Ohhh, this all makes sense!" All excited movements calmed as he took the time to contemplate him. "Well almost – you just appeared here, without a TARDIS… so, so what are you, the twelfth regeneration? Or has the BBC got it all wrong? Who's your companion?" His face brightened. "Audrey is, isn't she? Oh, this is —"

"Stop." Although his tone was soft, his severe gaze commanded him. "For the final time, I am not a doctor, or an alien."

"Yes!" he practically sobbed, conviction fast collapsing. "Yes! You are!"

The angel's expression was borderline sardonic. "You would sooner believe that I am an alien as opposed to a messenger of God?"

"… y–yes?"

"Then you are misguided —"

As Castiel advanced, Professor backed away, shaking his head wildly. "No."

"I am an angel of the Lord —"

"No no."

"A messenger of God —"

"No – no – no!" The word was stamped out in such different ways, one would presume he had just learned it and was conducting a thorough trial.

Feeling as though he was being beaten over the head with the word, Castiel stopped and frowned fixedly at him. "Why is this so difficult to believe?"

"Because!" he shrieked, his voice jolting upwards like that of a pubescent boy's, "I –" he stabbed himself vehemently with a finger, "– am a scientist! Your existence makes me look like a dope! You go against everything th–that I not only believe in, b–but everything I know! It just can't be, I mean i–it's, it just can't – it can't, I – it just, it's —"

"My existence, and God's existence, does not negate everything that science has discovered, nor should it invalidate any advances to come. It should merely open up the spiritual side of your senses that has been sealed off." There was a shade of grudging comprehension in Professor's eyes, and although he desired to glimpse something fuller, a very important issue was needed raised. "I understand this is much to digest," his tone opened gingerly but then grew firm, "but you must swear to me that you will not act rashly in wake of all this."

This authoritative side of him cowed Professor. "Wuh–what exactly does that —"

"That means absolutely no informing of others about this situation," his eyes flashed aggressively as he drawled the words for emphasis, "under – any – circumstances. Do I make myself clear?"

"B–but we could really learn a lot about your species!"

Pause.

"I'm not an alien!" he snapped, before closing his eyes and collecting his stoicism. Reluctant to hear the argument Professor was no doubt about to insist to him, he swept right past and moved towards a work surface. There, he picked up the pair of titanium scissors, meeting and locking gazes with an ashen Professor as he parted the blades.

"What are you doing?" Professor inquired warily, eyes flickering between his face and the blades. They swelled with horror when Castiel lifted it to his throat. "Don't do that. No, don't do that. Come on. No – stop! Stop it! What are you doing! Oh God! Oh God! You're bleeding! Oh God, oh Guhhh… there's a God. There's a God. Oh God! Oh —" Castiel began to heal before his eyes. "—oooohhhh."

The scissors were settled back in their place, as spotless as they originally were, and he swept a hand over the bloodstain on his clothes, erasing it. With a look, he dared him to argue.

"Uh … an alien m–might be able to do that?" he tried. Castiel deflated. Time to bring out the big guns. With an upward glance, he switched off the ceiling lights. He heard Professor gasp.

A finger was flexed in the direction of the overhead projector, triggering it to jet a glow of light onto him. The throwback of light glanced eerily off of Professor's face as he drew in a great breath at the sight of wings (or the shadow at least) unfurling impressively behind the angel, with the intent to release an awed sigh that never eventuated. There was nothing else to look at but each other, so the reality that was "Castiel the angel" engulfed Professor, now compliant to it. The light began to sputter, in time waning completely and abandoning them in the darkness.

"Okay," Professor rasped in the gloom, "I–I–I–I–I… believe you." As Castiel reactivated the lights, Professor stared aimlessly at the floor, confounded. "This is… unbelievable. I don't believe it."

"You said, just a moment ago, that —"

"I know!" he cried, "I do, I believe you! I just … I can't, I, I don't — AARGH!"

As Professor doubled over, groaning into his knees, Castiel looked down at him with a mixture of pity and exasperation for himself.

"I am truly sorry to have put this on you. It was never my intention."

Professor shot upright, eyes painfully incredulous. "What are you even doing here?"

"I… needed to find out what sodium chloride meant," he replied, a little sheepishly.

"No! I mean here! On earth!"

"I've told you. God sent me here to keep a vigil on the earth."

"C–can't you do that from –" he hesitated, struggling with the term and deciding on the more ambiguous alternative, "– y'know, up there?"

"A close vigil," he clarified darkly.

"And the Apocalypse?" he squeaked, clawing his frizzy hair, "That is just – I mean, are you serious? It, like, happened, already?"

"Close to it," his eyes lowered solemnly at the memory.

"But how? I–I mean, who? When? Wuh–why? Where?"

"I believe you've heard enough," Castiel said firmly and decidedly, gaze taking charge on him again, "I've clarified things to you that were never meant for your consideration."

"B–but I can't – answers – I need – I–I–I'm so —"

At that very instant, Professor's bout of spluttering was intervened when Castiel's cell phone chimed with a message alert. He pulled it out, and understandably, Professor reacted.

"Is that a —" his eyes squinted outrageously at him, "Y–you have a phone? You? An angel? Have a phone?"

Peering at the screen, he saw that he had been bombarded with three messages at the same time. How strange. This cellular device was only really used to contact the brothers.

The first message was from Dean.

we're in nyc atm and you'll never believe who we found

Why hadn't they told him they were coming to New York?

The second message was from Sam.

need you at starbucks near tkts booth in times square

That was Gabriel's Starbucks joint. Uh oh.

Apprehension rose as the third message was indeed from Gabriel.

You're a modern day Judas, you know that?

His grip tightened on the cell phone grimly, releasing only to deposit it back into his pocket. Barely allowing him a glance, he brushed past Professor.

"I must leave now," he stated as he moved, but he didn't make it far as he was taken by the elbow.

"Nooo!" Professor wailed, absolutely petrified, "Y–you can't just ditch me after – after all that!"

"I have much bigger problems at present." The sternness of his tone and expression only managed to pry his grip off of him, but his pleading eyes never left.

"Wh–what am I supposed to do now? Huh? You're an angel!" He flailed his hands about, desperately. "Guide me, won't you!"

It never failed to grate him that the mainstream notion of angels came with wrongful expectations built by humanity, namely that they bent over backwards for mankind's convenience.

"I answer only to God, and since this was never meant to happen, I don't owe you anything," he dourly stated. Watching as this noticeably upset Professor, guilt and compassion resurfaced and he softened with a resigned sigh. "We will speak again soon."

A second later, he vanished, and Professor fainted.

"I paid for one Upside Down Cherry muffin, and dammit I'm leaving with one!"

The amiable smile that Dean typically wore when bearing the masquerade of an authority figure (despite not being appropriately clothed in the suit) faltered into a grimace. This young woman was being especially difficult. Could she not see the connection between the man they were grilling, "employee" of the company, and the muffin she so sorely desired, sold by aforementioned "employee"?

"Ma'am, please," he ventured in measured tones, "We've already made it clear to you that we are health inspectors and we're just trying to do our jobs."

"You're wearing flannel," she tartly pointed out, crossing her arms, "Unless you're health inspectors all the way from Appalachia, I don't believe you."

These circumstances usually warranted an exchange of glances, but knowing that Sam was preparing an expression no doubt conveying "I told you we should have changed into our suits!", Dean chose not to look at him. Another individual in attendance seemed to read his mind.

"Such untactful moves," Gabriel tutted chidingly from his place at the wall, where Sam had him locked by the collar, "You boys shouldn't have skipped the costume change. Ten points from Gryffindor."

Dean whipped around to him, eyes flashing and pretense withdrawn. "Okay, right now? I need you to shut your face gash or, so help me, I will plug it myself with one of your fancy muffins, got it?"

Gabriel was poised to parry, no less sly than before, when she interposed shrilly. "You are mean health inspectors!" Once Dean's regard was drawn, she slapped him. "Shame on you!"

Rubbing his cheek, he gawked at her bewilderedly, "Hey, lady, I thought you didn't even buy that we were health inspectors!"

A reply was about to be issued when Castiel popped into existence behind her.

"I came as soon as I —" He noticed the young woman standing before him. "Audrey."

She twisted around, and jumped. "Oh! I didn't even hear you come in. Hi."

"Hello." His mind lacked the means to muster anything further, as it was too busy cursing a blue streak in Enochian. Everything was just coming up Castiel, wasn't it? One could only hope that tequila and salt was coming with all these lemons life was throwing at him; thrown the way a child would hurl peas across the dinner table with the sole intention of antagonizing their target.

Sam and Dean, realizing what had become of their situation, looked at each other, both growing matching expressions of "Oh shit…", while Gabriel appeared so gleeful, one would presume it were his birthday. On the surface, Castiel was quietly calm, when what he really desired was to duck into a shadow and dissolve into the darkness.

As though registering what he had initially said, she shook her head with a start. "Sorry, are you involved with," she pointed a thumb at the men behind her, oblivious to their acute scrutiny, "all that?"

His automatic response was to open his mouth, purely out of instinct and enabling no time to dwell on what to say. When nothing emerged, his gaze shifted onto the brothers, hoping they would wordlessly guide him. Under his scrutiny, they looked away unhelpfully. Frowning a little, he refocused on Audrey.

"Yes…" he answered with unusual length. She nodded slowly to accommodate his length of tone and when there was no elaboration, she turned aside to address all four men at once.

"Okay so, what's going on? Why can't I have the muffin I paid for and why are these peasants attacking the guy selling me the muffin and trying to pass off as health inspectors?"

That triggered a number of responses, all occurring in unison:

"You tried to sell her one of your creations?" Castiel angled aside to snarl this at Gabriel.

"I'm innocent, I swear on my Father's grave!" Gabriel cried melodramatically to room at large.

"Ma'am, this waiter isn't who you think he is," Sam directed to Audrey, his tone grave yet gentle.

"We're not peasants!" Dean blurted indignantly.

Of all responses, Dean's was the one that thieved all attention. Momentarily surprised to have captured it in such a way, he decided to take advantage of it.

"Look, Audrey, is it? I'm sure there are a million of these arabica bean joints in this city, so surely you can loosen that strangehold on a few bucks?"

"I don't see why I have to — what is going on?" There was no chance to answer. She jabbed a pointed finger at Gabriel. "You! What's up or not up with your muffins? And you two!" To the Winchesters. "Who are you really and what business do you have with a Starbucks employee? And you!" Castiel was next, and she paused, stumbling with him. "What relevance do you have here at all?"

No one spoke. It was evident to everyone that it was Castiel's answer she was holding out for, so the brothers were silent out of humility, while Gabriel simply wanted to watch him flounder.

Though he outwardly appeared otherwise, Castiel's mind was racing a mile a minute. "The Truth" had become the third party of their relationship, and now more than ever, it was begging to be formally introduced. He decided, or rather, he convinced himself that he would tell her, when really, he was aiming to superfluously prolong the lead up.

"Audrey," he began, gesturing the brothers, "this is Sam and Dean Winchester." When the spotlight was on them, they smiled dimly at her. She tilted her head, making a connection.

"Oh. Your friends and colleagues," she recalled, her own smile growing in recognition. Her regard momentarily singled out Sam with a frown. "You're not a girl."

"And this is Gabriel," he motioned her regard towards Gabriel (hence missing Sam's bemused glance), "my –" she was unmindful to the way he then locked gazes between Sam and Dean, "– brother."

Sam and Dean both narrowed their eyes as their suspicions undoubtedly raised between them. They, of course, had yet to know about the newly amicable nature of his relationship with Gabriel.

"Huh." Audrey fluctuated between acknowledging Gabriel with a smile and considering him with outright wonder. "Wow. You don't look like brothers."

"Well," Gabriel casually began, as though he wasn't being confined against the wall by Sam, "technically we never shared a womb."

"Ah, I see. No – wait a minute." She turned a frown to the brothers, who flinched at her abrupt attention. "Why are you attacking your friend's brother?" She turned the frown onto Castiel. "And these," she gestured the brothers, or rather their clothing, with distaste, "are your colleagues?" As Dean gave himself a self-conscious downward glance, she heatedly asked, "What is it that you do?"

Those wide, innocent eyes of hers only incensed his guilty conscience. This shouldn't have to be so hard. His eyes lowered, the reality of what was required of him weighing them down. However, unbeknown to the angel, the brothers had once again shared a glance and reached a mutual, unspoken decision, and when Castiel opened his mouth to speak, they got there first.

"He's our boss!" declared Dean. Both Castiel and Audrey looked at him with surprise.

At their attention, Sam nodded emphatically. "Yeah. He's a, uh, powerful guy."

Audrey let out an impressed whir as she turned to appraise him with awed eyes. "But what's the job exactly?"

The somber shade of his earlier expression was gone by the time she turned to him, as he assumed his very ceremonious manner. "Audrey, this isn't your business to examine."

"Hey!" she bit back, inflaming with indignation, "My muffin, my business!"

"Is that a euphemism?" Dean, under his breath.

When Castiel lowered his head at her, letting her feel the full weight of his seriousness, she surrendered. "Fine, I'll leave," she grumbled, shrugging her tote bag further up her shoulder. "Sort out your friends, will you? And you guys –" to Sam and Dean, "– be nicer to your friend's brother." They stared back blankly, neither prepared to agree with her, and her gaze strayed south. "Oh and," she brandished a finger at Dean, frowning gravely, "exfoliate your hands." The instant she turned to address Gabriel, Dean revived from his stunned silence and pulled his wildest "What the hell?" face.

"And it was nice to meet you!" she said, being especially sweet to Gabriel. It compelled Castiel to dampen his solemnity enough to frown possessively at her.

Gabriel bowed his head gallantly and winked, "Enchanté, sweetness."

The word earned him an odd look, as if recognizing it from somewhere, before she moved to leave, waving at the brothers along the way. "Bye peasants," she said fondly, not at all malicious.

On her way out, she touched Castiel's arm lightly with that disarming smile of hers; a small gesture that never failed to wreak havoc on his formality and roused that curiously alluring warm flush within him. Against his ache to do otherwise, he didn't follow her out. Likewise, as she strolled off, Dean was grappling for words but took too long, managing to spill them out only when she had left.

"We're not peasants!"

"In New York, you are," Gabriel remarked. Angling aside to lock eyes with Castiel, he added, "Right, bro?"

This reminded them all of their current predicament, steering them into a foreboding calm that promised bleak things for Castiel. The first of which was when he was exacted with the most withering of Dean's glares as he stalked him. Stopping just before him and holding his gaze, he then glanced between him and Gabriel.

"Is there something you'd like to share with us?"

BLAAAAASDFGHJKLHDFKLJHRGH. I've rewritten this chapter so many times, and I'm still not satisfied. Fuck it, I'm so tired, lol.

Read and review (anonymously, if you can't!) :D