The press of time around him was closing and if he wasn't proactive, she would slip between his fingers forever where she already had scarce purchase on. So, after abiding by her side for a few hours of the night (he had found himself reluctant to leave right away when she looked so peaceful and pretty while she slept … and surprised him by mumbling the entire script of The Breakfast Club – this "Brian" character seemed awfully depressed!), he appeared at the doors of Starbucks the next morning and swept determinedly for the counter.

The prize, if you will, that was Audrey could be his if he played his cards right, and so engrossed was he by this notion that he hadn't the time or the mind to realize that he was humbling himself for a certain archangel's help.

"I'm aware that I had said I didn't require your opinion anymore, but I sense she's coming around. Tell me how can I influence her into my favor."

The back of whom he assumed was Gabriel turned, revealing that it indeed was not Gabriel. The stranger smiled.

"Good morning, sir! What would you like to order today?"

Before Castiel could carry out his trademark head tilt, a vibrant voice sought him. "Over here, bro!"

Turning, he spotted Gabriel lounging in the corner, waving him over. Not before casting a brief look at the employee out of good manners, he hesitantly made his way toward the archangel.

In spite of how earnestly the opposing sofa was gestured to him, Castiel did not sit. Instead, he studied him warily.

"Why are you here and not there?" he asked, tipping his head back toward the counter to indicate. Again, the seat was insistently motioned until he finally complied. When he did, Gabriel cast the room a theatrically suspicious glance, then leaned forward furtively.

"This is a normal Starbucks now!" he informed, secretively but brightly, before leaning back. "Thank your lucky stars that geezer had his back turned when you popped into existence just then."

"That doesn't answer my question."

His literalness earned him a wry smile, but Gabriel assented to the question anyway. "Manhattan? Yeaaah, it's not for me anymore. Everyone's so jaded here. You can't really differentiate the good from the bad, therefore I don't know who to mess with." He leaned forward confidentially and plunged his tone into the darker part of its range. "Now, Vegas, humans go there already bargaining to meet a little hullabaloo, and I'm willing to be bountiful in exceeding those expectations for the nogoodniks Las Vegas has in abundance."

Resuming normal stance, he casually took a sip of coffee.

Then, in one breath, he added, "That, and Brandi had been double-crossing me the entire time so I had to kill her." At the look on Castiel's face, he dryly clarified, "The demon, Cas; the vessel is fine. So damn fine," he sighed wistfully. "And, because I killed her, I suspect her League of Extraordinary Demons will be coming after me," he smirked at the sight of Castiel's noticeable shift into grim professionalism, "so I'll lead them to Vegas, the city of sin, where I'll give them one hell of a show."

The look Castiel fixed him with aimed to be commiserative, but appeared searching. "I'm sorry you have to do that."

"I'm not! I really am bored with New York. There's only so many laughs I can get from a Wall Street fat cat and other such yuppies." Amused to see that Castiel's intent stare didn't change either way, he smirked, but kept his mirth to himself. "I'll be hopping around Vegas," he rambled on airily, "I can't and won't be establishing myself under one camp like I did here, so, without the effort," his exuberant levity dampened, just a little bit, "you won't be able to find me."

It brought new significance to this impromptu meeting, and it took Castiel by surprise.

"I see," was all he mustered.

His reaction, though limited, made Gabriel furrow his brow. "Heeey, turn that frown upside down, we had a good run!" he chimed reprovingly. "And what an adventure we had! I got laid, you lost your virginity… hm, probably shouldn't have mentioned those two occurrences one after the other."

The humor bounced right over the angel's head. "Are you open for one last request for your guidance?"

Gabriel regarded him in silence, and he looked as if he was itching to make a joke but was remarkably aspiring to attend to this with more seriousness. Overcoming that urge finally, he spoke.

"Cas, we were both in relationships. Peculiar ones, but relationships no less. You were the deceiver in yours and Brandi was my deceiver in mine." An eloquent dipping of his head. "And I killed her." Eyes twinkling, he concluded, "I have noooo advice for you anymore."

The angel was allowed no time to dwell on that before the archangel shot to his feet. "Anywho! I gotta go! The town isn't gonna paint itself. And I have to jump out of the trunk of a car as a naked Asian by nine." When he then donned a pair of Elvis sunglasses, Castiel swore he could hear faint strains of "Viva Las Vegas" resounding out of nowhere.

The smile Gabriel bestowed him – roguish but genuinely affectionate, with eyes surely sparkling behind those shades – would linger long after he vanished. "I'll see you around, Castiel."

And then he was gone.

Castiel was exemplifying many qualities of a stalker. Where he stood in the Barnes and Noble of Fifth Avenue, he already knew Audrey was only one book shelf away from him, five steps to the right, turned at a south east bearing, nose in a paperback copy of Peter Pan. It had been approximately forty three seconds since he last stole a glance around the corner. Her clothes were as jazzy as ever, her hair was as red as ever, her skirt was as sinfully short as ever, her legs were as – you get the idea. Her aesthetic pretentiousness stood her out among the generic color scheme of the book store.

Was it normal to feel, be and act so pathetic and reckless in love? Frankly, he could do without this part of the experience. Sure, it was thrilling, but in an "I really shouldn't have eaten that last enchilada" sort of way. The other part of the experience, where she would always be close to him, now that was pleasant. Bring that back, fate.

When she wandered into his aisle, swamped in her book, his alarm shot up like the head of a meerkat. Don't bring it back now, fate!

He drew out the nearest book within reach and pretended to read it as he turned to exit the aisle the opposite way, but was disgruntled to find a store clerk ultimately blocking the way with her very ample size. There was no way he could even attempt to pass her without indirectly insulting her. Audrey glanced up from her book and over to the movement in her peripheral vision. She had to give him a double take before her startled expression dissolved into one of irony.

"Still stalking me, Castiel the friendly angel?" she sneered, halfheartedly, as though he wasn't worth the effort or inventiveness anymore. Her ensuing move to walk away was deferred when her gaze dropped to the book in his hands. "What are you reading?" she asked, angling for a tone of indifference but falling flat.

"I'm reading, uh —" Furrowing his brow, he peered down at the book. It was upside down. Smooth. He tipped the book back towards him to glimpse the cover, and as if holding it upside down wasn't mortifying enough, he realized he was reading the Karma Sutra. Real smooth.

To make matters worse, the portly clerk who had been blocking his escape pushed past the pair, but not without remark.

"Truth be told, this isn't the first time I've seen a man look at that book upside down."

He blinked away the inklings of embarrassment that were begging to subdue him, and instead found solace in the way Audrey was chewing on her lip as a means to conceal her treacherous amusement. She noticed him catching onto her actions, then snapped her book shut as violently as a bear trap and held it to her side as she flounced off into another aisle.

Sigh. Whenever people, namely the Winchester brothers, were angry at him for whatever reason, their methods of abuse, whether verbal or nonverbal, would simply glance off of him. But he couldn't stand her being cross with him. It was such a foreign, ill-fitting aspect that rendered her a completely different person. How very far away her flirty, happy-go-lucky disposition seemed at this point. He would take Can't-Keep-Her-Hands-Off-Of-Him Audrey over Go-Away-And-Leave-Me-Alone Audrey. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned indeed.

Briskly but not frantically, he followed her. "How do you feel?" he inquired.

As she raked her eyes indiscriminately over the spines of the books, she spoke absently to him. "Can't be sure. You've introduced a whole new reality to me and it should hound me like a bad joke, but it's on such a ginormously enormous scale that I can't even wrap my head around it. It like, cancels itself out or something."

This made him stop. "You've made peace with it," he concluded.

"I wouldn't say that," she intoned lowly, eying him obliquely for a second, "I'd say I'm resigned to it on some level. There's nothing I can do about it, and I can't change anything."

He nodded vaguely, accepting this answer over nothing. His next question thwarted her plans to pursue another aisle.

"Does this mean I've earned your forgiveness?"

She stopped. Then turned, almost reluctantly, and finally regarded him in fullness. It was a long regard taken in a thoughtful silence, as though contemplating his question and her answer and questioning her own willingness in vocalizing it, before she spoke.

"I feel like I'm begrudgingly excusing you on a technicality," she replied tightly, almost enunciating her words with great care. Instantly, she soured at the sight of his expression. "Don't look so pleased! That's not a good thing!" She marched over to him, her tone searing. "Do you know who else got let off the hook on a technicality? O.J!" She deflated from her angry stance and, with a sigh, leaned against the shelves. "I'm not like Professor; I don't think making any rash lifestyle changes is gonna help my soul or anything. I have to live with it and die with it. And whatever comes after that."

There was an undertone of inquiry in her last sentence, to which he observed, "You have questions."

Her smile was sardonic. "And you're not gonna answer them."

Instead of smiling at her shrewdness, he gave her a defeatist look. "I can't. I told you, it —"

"It exceeds my capacities," she finished sullenly, "yeah, you told me."

Her tone of voice made him frown, sensing that this truth was being interpreted in a very personal way. "I don't mean that disparagingly," he firmly reassured. A look of belief grew on her face despite her reluctance, encouraging him to press on; his hard eyes softening as his tone did. "You know I would tell you anything and everything if I had the ability to clarify such things to you."

Folding her arms, she scoffed. "Do I know that?"

"Yes, you do." The depth of implication in his tone seduced her attention and their eyes met squarely. Straightaway, she saw it in his eyes – how he felt about her – which is why she had been avoiding looking directly at them. After a long moment of holding her captive with its sincere but seldom shown emotion, he blinked it away and lifted his chin a fraction. "You and I need to talk about this."

As quickly as his expression had changed, hers did too, appearing flippant within a second. "About what?"

"Our relationship."

"What relationship?"

This made him pause, taking him by surprise by how much it cut to the quick. It shadowed his face as he pressingly contended, "It's not a lie."

"It is to me!" she exclaimed, abruptly reviving from her indolence and shouldering off from the shelves, "It's like finding out you've been cheating but I've been the mistress the entire time!"

"But you're not."

A fruitless toss of her hands. "I know," she sighed, shifting her weight, equally uncomfortable on each leg, "This is such an uncommon scenario." Her eyes, that had been wandering the floor, stopped at his feet, and suddenly she felt compelled to look up at him. "Cas, what you did, and how it made me feel, was a very bitter pill to swallow. You were always a whole leap of faith ahead of me. But then, I keep asking myself, what else could you have done? I mean, you could have told me sooner, but more than likely, I would reacted just the same."

What left his mouth was potentially self-compromising and he regretted it instantly. "Not if we hadn't been intimately involved."

It struck her at once as being a good point. Then, astonishment struck her that he had been the one to provide it. "That's true," she said, blinking with surprise, "I guess it had to rely on good timing."

"I don't seem to have any," he muttered. There was the slightest touch of a smile at her lips in response, but when it vanished a second later, he supposed he could have imagined it.

"I'm at a loss," she mumbled, inattentively fingering the price sticker on the Peter Pan paperback in her hands, "Deceit in a relationship usually leads to its end, but this kind of deceit is singular, and you're not just any other guy." She fixed him a vaguely humored look. "You're not even a guy! This is just as much of a lesbian relationship as it is a heterosexual one!"

This bewildered him into honesty. "Lacking a gender doesn't imply I have both. It should satisfy you enough to know that you… stimulate my more male sensibilities."

A blush snuck up on her before she could avoid it. In a frantic attempt to hide it from him (though he had witnessed its manifestation immediately), she turned and paced out of his scrutiny.

"I'm trying to convince myself that in your position you had little to no options, and also," she turned around and tentatively lifted her gaze to him, "I humanized you. That's an achievement, right?"

Her words were considered with a tilt of his head. "I wouldn't say achievement, for it implies a positive outcome. An angel of the Lord, the purest being, a divine warrior of Heaven, becoming tarnished by human qualities is not a positive outcome." When her brow shot up, he took it for indignation, to which he carefully added, "Please don't be offended. I didn't mean for any derogatory connotations in saying that, but that's the reality when viewed in Heaven's perspective."

She blew out a breath, stoically accepting this pledge of defense, before blinking owlishly. "And what's your perspective?"

There was a pregnant silence, both sensing the great urgency for whatever answer he issued.

"I've come to appreciate what you've done to me," he stated, slowly but great commitment, "but it's not worth it if you're not mine."

Dejection and amusement bred a hybrid expression on her face. Amusement bested and she sputtered a chuckle. "When you say awkwardly sweet things worthy of a Taylor Swift song like that, it makes it hard for me to remember why I should hate you." Her eyes darted aside and she lightly added, "But it does remind me why I hate Taylor Swift." Shrugging blithely, she turned and walked off.

Frowning, he followed her insistently. "I thought you were attempting to find reasons to reprieve me."

"I'm very conflicted at the moment," she said, diverted by her intense perusal of a shelf, but stopped to eye him up and down. "Regardless, it's hard to be wholly attracted to you when you're… dead."

The word earned her a critical look from the angel. "I'm not dead. I'm simply not living, unborn."

She lifted one very sarcastic eyebrow at him. "Oh, so that's okay then!" she sneered. "And this," she gestured him overall, "isn't even your body!"

"It is now."

"This isn't Finders Keepers, Cas! This guy had parents who conceived him, and from a couple of cells he became this. And whether he's in there or not —"

"He's not."

"— it's not yours."

"And because of that, it negates whatever you feel for me."

"You say it like I'm being unreasonable," she retorted, a defensive edge in her tone. Dropping it as futile, her gaze slumped to the floor. "Maybe I just need some M-E time. Mental Enlightenment time."

As her thoughts strayed, she did too, and he was considering leaving her be when he decided to boldly venture another thought of his own.

"There are a lot of things about you that I should have an aversion to," he stated, succeeding to make her stop and steer her attention to him. When under it, he advanced on her. "You're pretentious, wanton, bumptious, acquisitive, importunate —"

"Oh, golly gee damn, Cas, flattery will get you nowhere," she chimed in flatly, batting her lashes insolently.

"— audacious." He stopped before her, eyes shining with significance. "And yet, I don't despise these qualities."

All vestiges of mockery faded from her face, but reappeared only weakly when he added, "I especially admire your temerity."

"How fortunate, Cas, since you're on the receiving end of it," she snarked sweetly. "And besides, I see the point your making, but you're identifying my qualities. You being in another guy's body is not a quality. It's a… an abnormality, through and through. I mean, if I were to meet you in Heaven, would I see you, or this guy? It can't be this guy since he's already chillin' up there, bearing his rightful visage." She shook her head with a jolt. "I don't even want to think about that. It's weird and wrong and creepy and I want nothing to do with that."

So, that was virtually the only bar in the road? Immediate lack of attraction? This notion was regarded with withering disbelief, and it demonstrated on his face. He took a formidable step forward.

"Tell me," he husked, "Do you feel disgust whenever you think about what we've done?"

There was something about the way he referred to it, like an act of wickedness, that flustered her for a second, before she very soberly answered his question.

"Yes. In theory. Pleasant experiences stay pleasant experiences. It's hindsight that can be off-putting." When his expression didn't stir the slightest, she exhaled raggedly. "Look, when you date a guy, you like them for who they are, on the inside and the outside. This," she gestured him, "right here, consists of two guys. You're the inside, someone else is the outside."

She walloped him with her "duh" look. "That's bizarre, to put it lightly, and it wipes out any appeal. I look at you?" She eyed him determinedly for a few seconds, then shrugged. "Not attracted. I touch you?" She ran her hands firmly down his chest, then shrugged. "Not attracted. I kiss you?" She pecked him lightly on the lips.

Although she pulled away, she didn't retreat far enough to convince him of her assertion, as she lingered one inch away from him, finding herself unable to completely withdraw from the closeness. Not attracted? Of course she was. She just needed a reminder of it. Before she could come to her senses, he swooped forward and gripped her face with both hands. He took her mouth with his as he guided her roughly against the the wall, kissing her until she forgot her name.

A moan reflexively knocked out of her upon impact. Soon, it became one relishing and returning the gesture in earnest. A hand wreathed around his neck to angle him to perfection.

The kiss was different from the others they've shared. This was frantic, greedy, harsh. If she wanted a reason to be attracted to him, then he was going to give it to her. Pass on a trove of memories through the most unangelic kiss; memories of every moment he'd had her and she'd willingly taken from him.

His tongue stole into her mouth and lapped as mercilessly as it had once done on another occasion, knowing the memory would inundate her and reminiscently tease that tiny bundle of nerves from within. His palm slithered down her front without modesty to snake around her waist and splay on her back as he savored the taste of her. It was his to savor and his alone. The other brushed up to take a possessive fistful of her hair, conducting her to submit to the movements of his lips and not the other way around.

It was all welcomed and responded to accordingly, as she chirred into his mouth and pushed her chest to his, an implicit plea for more, just more.

When he lifted his mouth from hers and stepped away, she was panting. Her eyes were clouded when they opened to his, that were glittering.

Blinking slowly through the clearing mist, she swallowed thickly. "N–not… attra–attracted." She licked her lips and her eyes snapped to focus, ignited with panic. "I, ah… I–I gotta go!"

Her dash for a quick escape was intercepted when his hand shackled around her wrist, and the force of her abrupt standstill spun her around to him. Although he had every motivation to look pleased with himself, he instead, with a gaze, implored her to stay. This was more than just attraction, and he knew she felt it too.

For the longest, most discouraging minute of stillness, she stared at him undecidedly. He could almost see the see-saw of decision teetering favorably towards "Leave" rather than "Stay". Then, her free hand stretched out, extending to him the book she had miraculously kept a hold of.

"Read this and then come see me," she said blandly. He accepted it from her precariously, as though suspecting this all to be a huge scam, and then painfully watched as she walked away from him the instant it left her possession. When he reasoned that this may never happen again and she would be his if he just opened up that book, he did exactly that. Oh, the things he did for her.

Chapter one. "All children, except one, grow up…"

Now I'm tempted to write a spin-off about Gabriel in Vegas. It would be The Hangover with an archangel and demons. Must. Not.

By the way, this is the third last chapter.

Read and review :D