"As you know, I'm still a newbie to this church, and today, I brought someone to share the newness with too. She's been dilly-dallying around this whole practice of worshiping for the past couple of weeks, but finally, she's here with us today, willing to give it a try. So, since I don't want to lose her recently piqued interest, I'd really like to discuss something – which, as a professor of NYU, I imagine I can do well – rather than preach, which is, heh, what the Rev will do a little later."
The congregation rumbled with chuckles, and Professor smiled at having been the one to induce it. His sweeping gaze came to stop on Audrey, who sat in the front pew, a very familiar look of discomfort-but-trying-to-appear-otherwise on her face.
He knew that look. He had worn it himself during his first few weeks in these church services. She was in the same position he had been in: unable to automatically embrace the communal sense of spiritual unity as much as there was an effort being made to do so, not while the subconscious was struggling to reconcile reality with the pictorial concept of religion. In other words, she was still too caught up by the fact that she was inside an actual church – with its French High Gothic style, warm, golden lights and shabby books seated in the rears of the pews – of her own discretion.
"I would like to discuss," he paused thickly, "deceit." The pause was prompted by his continued sweeping gaze stumbling upon Castiel, who had just entered the church. No one, as in no one who mattered in New York City, had seen him for the past two weeks.
It was not of his own choosing to not see Audrey for two weeks. Duty had called, and it was when he found himself resenting his own purpose that he realized how in too deep he'd become with her.
Following "that night", it was in his intention to see her the next day, but, of course, duty had called. Thus, it granted her two weeks to swell with righteous umbrage, without him around to quell it with his defense. Finally, after a fortnight of having been killed by a rogue angel who went kamikaze only to later be resurrected, eviscerating hell hounds, blinding demons with his true form and etcetera, he arrived here at Saint Thomas Church, Fifth Avenue, finding Professor at the lectern, of all people, addressing the congregation.
At the word "deceit" and having Professor's eyes discover him, he tilted his head, suspecting his relevance, before claiming a seat in the hindmost pew.
"Um," Professor stumbled through his notes, thrown off by the angel's presence, and cleared his throat when he found his place. "No one who practices deceit shall dwell in my house; no one who utters lies shall continue before my eyes." He looked up. "That was from Psalm, 101:7, and I'm sure my friend here today would agree very much to that. But, hypothetically, I'd like to challenge that with Jeremiah, 17:9; the heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?" He closed his notes and braced himself against the lectern to gaze fixedly upon his audience.
"What if an act of deceit originated from the heart? As in, it began as something, and beyond one's control, it burgeons into deceit, and the possessor of that heart did not see it coming? That's human nature, isn't it? The fruits of our labor, and, and, and our natural impulses, taking on a life of their own without conscious notice?" he questioned the room at large, but frequented glances at Audrey.
"At Mark 7:20 to 23, it reads, and he said, "What comes out of a person is what defiles him. For from within, out of the heart of man, come evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, coveting, wickedness, deceit, sensuality, envy, slander, pride, foolishness. All these evil things come from within, and they defile a person." These are not, by definition, good things. But they're human things, reminders, i–if you will, reminding us of our humanity and how we are imperfect. Wouldn't it be beautifully tragic if, say, an angel were to familiarize with these discriminately human things?"
"A–and, I'm not dismissing all these things simply as acts of human instinct, I'm not denying them of their iniquities –" at this point, Professor was staring only at Audrey, luring her into his underlying message, "– I'm saying, because they're so human, something so beautiful and flawed, a thermodynamic miracle, wouldn't you think the deceiver is entitled to a little understanding?"
The man sitting next to Castiel leaned over to him. "I have no idea what this guy is saying."
Castiel did. Professor was defending him. Appealing for her mercy on his behalf with the reasoning that she had humanized him, and with humanity naturally came flaws. And it appeared, since Audrey had shot up from her seat and was flouncing back up the aisle to leave, she wasn't having any of it. Professor had meekly gone silent and was watching, with the rest of the churchgoers, as she made a rather huffy exit, but her stride slowed at the last pew.
Her eyes met his for the first time in a fortnight. He was more than capable of holding his weight in the eye contact, but she wavered, finding herself not entirely ready for this meeting. Mustering up her nerve, she briskly denied him her gaze by whipping her head aside, and flounced the rest of the way out, nose so high it challenged the gods. All eyes were now on Castiel, pondering his relevance, before he rose from his seat and followed her out.
Her agility in heels was still as impressive as ever.
"Audrey," he called, his voice as strident as those heels striking the concrete, "I'm sorry."
He nearly walked into her when she stopped and turned around to him. The frown on her face was trembling, as though it was struggling to remain afloat, until she finally abandoned the effort with a resigned sigh. Looking directly up into his eyes, her mouth twitched with reluctant decision.
"I… forgive you, Cas," she fought out the words, smiling so wanly when it was done that it resembled a grimace.
His exhalation was not quite a sigh of relief but one releasing his short breath of anticipation. "Is this true?"
Her wan smile brightened a little, and he found himself attempting one in return. With a sniff that heralded tears of joy, she embraced him snugly, as though she was drowning in emotion and he was the life raft of emotional harmony, and he cradled her in return. Tears left glistening trails down her face as she pulled back to look him right in the eye, and told him everything he wanted to hear. In a tone as warm as the glowing summer sun and as soft as the metaphorical feathers on his back, she whispered that she forgave him, that she loved him and that they would together forever and ever.
Of course, none of the above paragraph happened since she shattered the schmaltzy illusion by striking a hand across his face as swiftly as a viper.
"NO!" she shrieked as she did this, but then started shrieking for a different reason. "Oh, OW! GOD! FUCKING! DAMMIT!" she howled, hopping on the spot as she nursed her tender hand. When he made a move to heal her, she fended him off by eying him incredulously. "What are you, made of steel?"
"This body responds to violence," he informed.
"What do you mean, this body?" she grilled witheringly. With her unharmed hand, she gestured him. "Is this not your body?"
"Angels don't have bodies. Angels are angels. Spiritual beings. This," he glanced down at himself to indicate, "is a vessel."
This information smacked her in the face. Then, she paled. "Oh God. Oh my God," she raked her fingers through her hair, "I–I–I violated some poor guy! Thirty-one times!"
"Thirty-two."
Her eyes scorned him fiercely. "Speak for yourself! And don't you have a policy on homo sapien/angel relations or something?" The question was thrown at him without a grant to answer, as she instead hugged her body possessively, whimpering to herself. "Oh God, I feel so dirty! I need a Silkwood shower!"
"My vessel, my host has passed on," he said evenly, aiming to reassure, "Whenever I have been slain and resurrected, I was brought back with his visage, so this is all me now."
"Waitwaitwait," she hammered her hands at him, signaling to stop, and spat, "resurrected? You've died before?"
He nodded. "Three times now."
Her mouth fell open, leaving her eyes to convey her sentiments. It started off as stunned, then disbelieving, and finally vehemently scathing. A finger shot up to point at him damningly as her mouth worked mutely, fit to unleash an angry tide of words, but then she spun at her heel with an uppity toss of her hair and stormed off.
He started after her. "Audrey, stop."
Her stride did not falter as she snarled back at him, "Oh, kill yourself!"
"You must talk to me."
"No no no!" she shook her finger at him as she stopped and whirled around to him, "You are the Milli Vanilli of mortal human beings!"
"What's a Milli Vanilli?"
"I…" she thrashed her hands, speechless, "It's like I'm speaking Chinese to you to right now! You're not adorably naive at all! You're just … appropriately naive!"
"Audrey, listen to me —" His tone exacerbated when she stomped away again, but she cut him off.
"Uh uh! I am over you, Cas!" she exclaimed, turning around and walking backwards from him, "Okay? I am out," she sardonically laughed out the word. "This is just too weird —"
"Over… me?" he questioned, his tone ranging from naively curious to darkly perceptive between the two words. It made her stop but he continued to narrow the proximity. Despite his approach, she straightened her spine.
"Yes! Over you, moved on, moved past!" she shouted, motioning her hands to illustrate.
For reasons not pertaining to height difference, he looked down at her, challenging the truth of her words, and in essence he knew he hadn't the right to be so presumptuous.
"That is a lie," he husked, eyes piercing.
Understandably, she scoffed. "You should talk!" She ventured a step towards him. "Cas, I have been an Athiest for twenty-eight years —"
"You're twenty-nine."
"I converted to Forceism a year before The Phantom Menace came out. I lost faith when I saw it." Trailing her words, she shook her head of its misdirection. "Not the point." She looked up at him in determination. "Cas, you make me feel like the biggest idiot in the universe. You spent all that time with me, fooling me into believing you're just a nice guy with strong religious beliefs and ably put opinions, when really you're a fucking angel! of the fucking Sky Wizard! who humored me with a modest little argument whenever I expressed my beliefs – wrong ones, it turns out! – about religion!"
He stared stoically back at her, knowing this tirade to be inevitable and deciding to weather it like he deserved. Unsurprisingly, it did not end there. "You have invalidated every single moment when I thought my opinion was at the same level of yours, when really, the entire time, you," she poked him the chest, "have been right and I," she stabbed the finger to her own chest, "have constantly made an ass of myself to the entire universe, to the heavens, to God, through you!" Each was indicated with a flourish of her hand before ending this part of her tongue-lashing by shoving at his chest. He was so swamped by her words that he actually stumbled back a little at the move.
"And I know I'm not the only one in the world who shares my beliefs and what have you," she fumed on, "but the bottom line is I expressed them with such conviction to a fucking angel! DO YOU KNOW HOW STUPID THAT MAKES ME FEEL?" she shrieked from a genuinely intimidating proximity, voice rising in pitch, and he actually took a step away from her. "It's one thing to find out the truth about the universe, but it's another thing to find out that the guy you're fucking had known it all along and pandered to your naivety the whole time!"
"I argued my reality," he contended forcefully.
"You – didn't – need the argument!" she yelled, just short of screaming, stamping her foot with every word. "You could have saved me the effort of making my own arguments – which ultimately and quite pathetically, as I've said, are all wrong – by telling the truth! You don't tell someone that you think a party is a black tie party when you know it is, while that someone insists that it's fancy dress, and in our situation, guess which one of us turns up at the party in costume? ME! I look like the moron! And you got the front row seat to the exposition! Are you happy? Are you entertained?"
"Audrey —"
"You! Are nothing but a liar!"
"Listen to me —"
She squeezed her eyes shut and clamped her hands over her ears. "LIAR LIAR, PANTS ON FIRE! LIAR LIAR, PANTS ON FIRE! LIAR LI—"
His hands shackled around her wrists, tore them from her ears and held them while he spoke in measured tones. "I didn't imagine you and I being more than just acquaintances. The reality about me, that I am an angel of the Lord, was initially irrelevant, which is why it was never broached, but as our bond progressed, the obligation to share with you this truth grew increasingly difficult." Tentatively, he released her hands. His eyes stirred hers, upon seeing a glimmer of reluctant acceptance in them, which vanished the instant he added, "You know I'm right."
She cocked her head and stuck her ear out to him, overtly feigning ignorance. "Excuse me? I'm sorry? Are you, are you seriously playing that card right now? Because I have some cards up my own sleeve!" She discarded that affectation for another, and cleared her throat theatrically. "God should have aborted you!"
"That's my Father you're speaking of," he ground out, eyes flashing, subduing her nerve a few shades as he gained a slow, hostile edge, "so don't you dare speak of Him in such a way." He blinked hard in an effort to moderate his composure. Who was he fooling; she was entitled to wound him. "And I'm not trying to provoke you, Audrey, I'm merely justifying myself."
Already, she was shaking her head, at a loss. She laughed cheerlessly as she lurched away from him. "This is insane!"
"Yes," he agreed softly. His intense stare eased as he moved towards her with less of a ferocity, not wanting her attention to be exacted under duress. "I apologize for the distress it has caused you, but my reasons are justified. I know you know that. And I bear no regrets because I've come to know you." His eyes appraised her. "You are… compelling." His stark tone indicated that this was intended as fact, not as a compliment. When the anxiety on her face subsided a little, he pressed on.
"The truth burdened me immensely and I grew desperate to be truthful. I detest lying. I had also grown to respect you too much to watch you be taken in by my pretenses, which were not contrived from ill intentions, I swear that to you." Sensing himself fast approaching something critical, his voice began to wander. "You deserve to know, you deserve it all, as I believe I'm falling —"
Her eyes flew open in alarm. "No don't say it!"
"— in love with you."
Her hand recoiled from its attempt to cover his mouth. Neither moved as the words hung vulnerably in the air, slowly isolating her emotion from her indignation. The anger was still in her eyes, but far behind the immediate vestiges of emotion swirling in them now. Her hand reached out for him precariously, as though it knew this was wrong. Her face revealed little to what her action implied, but it filled him with hope nonetheless. But before her hand could make glorious contact with his cheek, a certain cyclist pedaled right into her. She held her ground, but it forced her back into the present.
"Oh, my, GOD!" she screeched in outrageous disbelief at Mr. Pedals, who recognized her instantly and grimaced at his luck, "Get out of this city! GET OUT!" The boy jumped away from her flailing arms, clawed up his bicycle and fled like a refugee.
When she looked back at Castiel, her exasperation for the cyclist overshadowed her earlier emotions and transferred onto him. "No, actually, no! You can't say something like that and expect everything to be okay! You think I'll just deign to forgive you? This isn't just about you! You have raped my brain with this new reality that is so much to sustain, when for a long time, convictions to the contrary were my only reality! They had been woven into the tapestry of my existence and to have undone it is to fuck everything up!" The last sentence had begun delicately, almost sweetly, but her rapidly dwindling composure gave way and she ended it screaming. Looking at him up and down, she let out a humorless laugh. "And, you know, I don't even know who you are anymore!"
"I'm Castiel."
"Yeah! Castiel, the heavenly messenger!" she exclaimed deprecatingly, "Angel of Tuesday!"
"Thursday."
"WHY ARE YOU AN ANGEL OF SOMETHING AS TRIVIAL AS A WEEKDAY?" she screamed, but quickly shut her eyes tight, steadying herself with a deep breath. Once composed, she progressed in a gentler tone. "You're no longer Castiel, the elusive human male with a unique single name like Cher." She had the generosity to indulge him a sad smile as she whispered, "I liked that guy, I really did." It vanished quickly, umbrage etched across her face again. "You, on the other hand, are this…" she made a helpless gesture, "… evil …" another gesture, "… thing that I allowed into my temple!"
He narrowed his eyes at this but did his utmost not to let his offense show. "There isn't a shadow of evil in me."
A dismissive noise gladly left her. "Evil is as evil does, and what you did was bad, bad, bad!" she reprimanded, poking him in the chest to emphasize.
"Audrey…" he softly began.
"Don't," she muttered, shaking her head at the ground, weary of what further he had to say.
"An angel is what I am, but not who I am. I am a weapon to everyone else. But I am not a "who" to anyone else," his hands, that had slowly made their way up, cupped her face tenderly, "but you."
"Don't fucking touch me!" she shrieked heatedly, ripping away from him. Staggering a few feet away, she eyed him as though she couldn't believe he had the nerve to touch her. It was remarkable she hadn't yet verged on tears, but by the way her arm shook as it rose to point a finger at him, he suspected a murderous binge was around the bend. "You listen to me. You stay away from me, or so help me, when I die, I'm getting you so fired."
Refraining a sigh, he frowned. "Audrey —"
"I'm going!" she held up a hand, retreating backwards from him and the conversation, "I'm going I'm going I'm going," she turned and marched away, "I'm gone!"
Graciously, he did not follow her. He knew his place, and at this point in time, it was not with her. As she disappeared around a corner, he shuffled backwards and sank down on the street bench behind him. The man sitting on the other end of it tore down the newspaper from his face.
"Hate to say I told you so!" Gabriel sing-sang, wagging his eyebrows knowingly under Castiel's immediate attention.
The initial sight of him took him by surprise, so his remark struck him belatedly. When it did, his expression soured. "Leave me," he muttered coldly, pointedly looking away.
"Hasn't someone already done that to you today?" Gabriel teased. The look Castiel gave him could have eaten him alive, and it only stirred his mirth. "Awww, I'm sorry bro, I shouldn't tease. I find things of bad taste somewhat of a delicacy." They stared at each other with the expressions the other was most familiar with seeing on the other, but both their attentions became snared by the sound of fast approaching feet. Around another corner came Professor, scurrying toward them.
"Hey!" He steadied himself against the back of the bench, panting. "What, what happened?"
Castiel contemplated the bandage on his brow and asked, "What happened to you?"
"What?" Following his eye, he realized what he was referring to. "Oh, um, after you left, you know, that night, she kicked everyone out – including her cat by accident, I think – everyone except me, Jody and Nicky, and forced us to tell her everything we knew about you, and in a fit of rage, she, uh," he made a slack gesture at the bandage, "she threw a fruit bowl at me."
"She has fantastic aim," Gabriel commented reverently, casually swinging his arm around the back of the bench, "That's gonna leave a scar. Any chance it's shaped like a lightening bolt?"
Professor saw that Castiel did not acknowledge him, so he did the same. He went on, "I–I didn't press charges 'cause I knew what she was going through, and I knew it would pain her more since you and her are … were … together." After smiling feebly, he straightened up with resumed earnestness. "So, where is she? Wh–what's happening?"
Castiel shook his head and simply stared straight ahead. "Nothing," he answered, "She's gone."
Please don't be silent after this chapter, lol. :3
Read and review :D