Existential Crisis

Author Note: This is a Gabriel/OC story. I'm not sure I like it to be honest, but after the day I've had I couldn't face editing the next chapter of the Debs/Cas storyline. Way too depressing. So, I wrote this. Basically it's a story based on the idea that Gabriel survives the showdown with Lucifer and starts to live his life post-almost Apocalypse. He wants to play a more helpful part in the everyday life of humans, and decides to become a guardian angel. But is he cut out for it...?

Gabriel peered around the brightly lit room, glancing over the rim of his coffee cup at the various patrons sharing the cafe with him. It was at times like this that he wished he could speak to Castiel: 'Hey bro, so, exactly how does one go about becoming a guardian angel?'

A small part of him had always wanted to be a guardian, even when he was still in Heaven. As an archangel he'd always felt a little detached from the proper business of being an angel. Sure, every so often he'd fought in a war or delivered a message for his Father; scared a few shepherd and wise men, that kind of thing. But... he'd always wanted a...ward, guardianee? He wasn't even sure what the correct term was. Looking after the Winchesters had certainly seemed to have a positive effect on that stick in the mud Castiel.

But how do I choose just one human? He thought, there are just so many! He sighed, standing up to leave. As he turned he collided with someone shorter than him, feeling a sudden burning sensation down his chest.

"Shit! I am so sorry..."

Gabriel acknowledged that he had always had a quick temper, and he felt it bubbling up inside him as he confronted the stranger, "Hey lady, are you blind?" The words were out of his mouth before he even noticed the guide dog by the woman's side, staring up at him sheepishly, obviously aware that he'd caused trouble for his owner. 'Oh...' thought Gabriel, utterly out of witty one-liners.

There was an awkward silence, wherein the girl simply stared up at him and the dog whimpered soulfully at her side. It was the girl that finally broke the stalemate. "I'm really sorry. It's my guide dog, he's new, just finished training. God, your shirt must be ruined." She began to dig around in her bag, "Let me give you some money to get it cleaned."

Gabriel paused, glanced down at his shirt and noted the brown stain down the front. Then he looked down at the crushed take-out coffee cup lying between their feet, the only real victim of their collision except his slightly wounded pride. He laughed and reached out a hand to take her wrist, "No, no, it was my stupid shirt's fault in the first place. It got in the way of your coffee cup. Let me buy you another."

She smiled, very prettily, he thought. The slight blush that rose to her cheeks made him feel a slight swell of pride, 'Yep, human women, they can't resist me.'

"Thanks for the offer, but, actually I'm just quite embarrassed. It's been one of those days. I'll just go." She tugged on the dog's lead slightly, glancing back up momentarily. "Sorry again." She muttered, before making her way to the door.

Gabriel wasn't sure why he followed her. It was probably those words, 'It's just been one of those days' – she sure sounded like a girl who could do with a guardian angel. So here he was, walking behind her. Every so often he would find his eyes wandering down her body, taking in the graceful sway of her hips. At these times he would chastise himself sternly for his un-guardian like behaviour. He found himself wondering whether Castiel had ever had this problem; he was the angel of Thursday after all, he had a lot of humans in his care and at least some of them had to be hot. He noticed that she'd stopped and was standing in front of a door rummaging in her bag again, probably looking for keys. Gabriel instinctively turned and pretended to examine the display window of a second hand bookshop, and then wondered why he was bothering. He heard a rattle of metal and glimpsed her stooping to find her dropped keys. As he watched her, contemplating whether he should help, he noticed another man leaning against a lamppost across the road; his eyes glued to the girl even more avidly than his own had been.

Gabriel frowned; he was sure that, if the girl had been able to sense the intensity of the gaze that was trained on her, her skin would be crawling. Uneasy, he stepped forward, watching her continue to search for her keys. Her left hand looked slightly red and scolded, from the coffee spillage he assumed. He glanced behind him at her guide dog who was staring at the man across the street, hackles slightly raised, a low growl rumbling in his throat. Gabriel bent down next to the girl, "Here, let me help." He grasped the keys and handed them to her.

She stood up, again he noticed how short she was; she only reached his chest. "The guy from the coffee shop, right? I recognise your voice."

Gabriel nodded, "Yep, glad I could be of service." He glanced back at the man who looked, if it were possible, even more intent. In fact, he wasn't leaning against the lamp post anymore, instead looking as though he were about to cross the road.

The girl looked uncomfortable for a moment, "I know this will sound weird, but, is someone watching me?"

He looked down at her briefly, then placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her toward her front door, "Yes, but you have your key. Just go inside and lock the door."

She nodded, inserting the key into the lock and turning it. Gabriel noticed her wince at the movement; by now the scolded hand was probably in danger of blistering if she didn't treat it. He waited until she was inside and had heard the lock click shut again before he turned. The man had left his spot, and was now hurrying down the road, occasionally glancing back at Gabriel.

The archangel deliberated for a moment, before clicking his fingers.

Inside the flat was warm and bright, with surprisingly little clutter that usually dominated human living spaces. There were vases of flowers dotted around the room and the air was thick with their scent. On one small table was a book, which Gabriel picked up. He ran his fingers over the bumps and ridges of Braille, imagining her doing the same, mouthing the words silently to herself as she read. As she walked into the kitchen he noted how different she seemed, each movement certain and graceful. As he watched her begin to open cupboards and pull out various jars, he realised that she was utterly comfortable here, knew every inch of their flat intimately. Her familiarity with the surroundings had taken away that shy awkwardness in the coffee shop.

Gabriel felt a tug on his jeans and heard a low growling. He looked down to find the girl's guide dog puppy attached to the fabric of his trousers. He glanced back at the girl, who had stopped what she was doing and turned. She laughed, "Hey, what's wrong with you, Harvey? What are you doing now?" She stepped forward, but the dog's growling quickly turned into a loud barking sound as he backed away from Gabriel, teeth bared.

The angel waved his hands at the dog, holding a finger to his lips, but it made little difference.

The girl was leaning against the counter again, "Is someone there?"

He stared at her as the dog began to move between his owner and the intruder, snapping his teeth.

When she spoke again, Gabriel heard the slight tremor in her voice and felt genuine regret; this was not what he'd wanted, "Paul? Is that you?" She paused, scanning the room, "I told you not to come here again. It's over."

Gabriel frowned, Paul? He thought for a moment, The guy across the road? Had to be.

Again that slight tremble in her voice snapped him back to awareness, "If someone's there, please say something."

The archangel sighed; this was a tricky situation. He could just leave, but she looked so genuinely terrified that he felt she needed some kind of explanation. But how do you explain this to someone? He imagined himself delivering Castiel's usual monotone, 'I am an angel of the Lord' line and almost laughed out loud. Yeah, that was bound to work. He stepped forward, pulling a bar of candy out of his pocket, swiftly unwrapping it and throwing it to the dog, "Ok, don't be afraid, this is not as weird as it looks...sounds." He shook his head, aware that he was stumbling over his words like a fool. He shrugged and steeled himself slighty, "I am...I'm ...an angel of the Lord."

She was silent for awhile, "No, you're the guy from the coffee shop."

He nodded, "Yes, that's also true. But I am an angel. I followed you, because I wondered whether you had...whether you might like a guardian angel." He slapped a hand to his forehead, mentally berating himself for his stupidity.

She laughed, opening a drawer and pulling out a kitchen knife, "You're a maniac." She pointed the blade in his general direction, "Please leave."

He raised his hands again, "I can prove it. I can prove that I am what I say I am." The minute the words left his lips he wanted to kick himself. How exactly do I prove that I'm an angel to someone who can't see me? He racked his brains. He could speak to her in his true voice, but the chances of her head exploding were relatively high. He thought about her other senses. Sight and sound were out. Smell, taste? He could magic a cake into the room, but even if he could get her to taste it, it wouldn't really prove anything other than that he was a maniac who carried cake around with him. Touch? A wave of obscene images flittered through his mind.

She waved the knife at him, "I'm waiting. Prove it."

He thought about the usual consequences of showing a human his physical form; they obviously didn't count here. He considered his wings for a moment, she wouldn't be able to see them but maybe she could feel them. "I'll need to come closer to you, or you need to come closer to me."

She shook her head, "You can't ask me to do that." He noticed the way her hands shook as she grasped the knife.

He stepped towards her again. Harvey had obviously decided that Gabriel posed no threat since he'd given him food, and silently let him pass. Gabriel tried to keep his voice low, soothing, "I promise, everything will be fine. You can keep hold of the knife if it helps." He thought it was probably best not to tell her that it couldn't harm him anyway.

As he approached he saw both her hands tighten instinctively around the handle of the knife. He focused on bringing just his wings into the physical world, feeling them stretch out around him, stirring the air as they did so, his long dorsal feathers brushing the edges of the room on each side. He saw her flinch slightly; she had obviously sensed a change in the room. There were only a few steps separating them as he held out his hand, "Give me your hand."

She shook her head, knuckles turning white as they gripped the blade tighter.

As gently as he could, he pried the knife from her fingers and held her hand in his before slowly guiding it to his shoulder and placing it there. He saw her frown slightly as she felt nothing but the normal rounded shoulder blade of a man. As her fingertips found the spot at which his wing erupted from the skin a gasp escaped her lips. Gabriel sighed as she ran her fingers over his wings, all fear seemingly gone as she explored the new sensations beneath her fingertips. She was gentle but thorough, at one point burrowing both hands deep into his feathers where they were thickest and then letting one of his longest feathers slide between her index finger and thumb as she studied it separately. He envied her in that moment, envied how eager and innocent she was in her explorations.

It was a new experience for him too, though. No human had ever seen, let alone touched, his wings, and he found himself hoping that she wouldn't stop too soon. When he next opened his eyes, her hands had left his wings and were touching his face; one running over his lips and another stroking his jaw line. He had a sudden, desperate urge to do the same to her, but instead brought his hands up to clasp her wrists.

She pulled her hands away quickly, "I'm sorry if I did something wrong. It's just how I see."

"You didn't do anything wrong, it's just... Nobody's ever touched me quite like that before and...I just needed you to stop."

She nodded, stepping away. Instantly, he regretted telling her to stop, longed to feel her hands touching him again. He shook himself, No, my plan here is to be helpful. My plan is to be a guardian, like Castiel, and guardian's do not screw their charges.

Her voice was quiet, "I still don't really understand why you're here."

Gabriel nodded, "I've been away from Heaven for a long time. I thought I had everything sorted, thought I was finally living the life I wanted to live. But...I've never really felt a part of anything. Never felt like I was useful to anyone. I was involved in something recently that made me reconsider what I want. It made me think about where my loyalties lie." He stopped, realising that he'd said too much and too little all at once. This was a huge thing he was expecting her to understand.

She smiled, "And part of your new plan is to become my guardian angel?"

He paused, an answer on the tip of his tongue. He wanted the answer to be yes, but the ache in his groin and his almost overwhelming desire to wrap her up in his wings and kiss her told him otherwise. Maybe he just wasn't the angel he was pretending to be. He sighed, uncertain.

The girl cleared her throat, "I'm sorry, I've used up too much of your time already. I should let you go. I'm sure you have other things to do."

Gabriel shrugged, "Actually, I don't really have anywhere else I need to be right now."

"I always kind of imagined angels would be...quite busy." She looked confused.

The archangel nodded, "Usually they are. Thing is, I'm not really the kind of angel who usually does this whole guardian thing. I'm a...different rank of angel. So I don't really have anything to do right now except be here."

The girl bit her lip, "What's your name?"

He raised his eyebrows, "You tell me yours, I'll tell you mine."

"Rachel."

"Gabriel." He offered back.

Rachel sat reading that night, legs curled under her on the couch, feeling the words as she ran her fingertips over them. She could sense him watching her; she could always tell when someone was with her. She laid the book across her lap, "Hello, Gabriel." She felt the couch move under her as he sat down.

"How do you do that?" His voice was sardonic, jovial as usual.

She shrugged, turning her body towards him, "I can usually tell when I'm not alone. Just a...instinct I guess." She bit her lip, before slowly reaching her hand towards him, "Would it be ok for me to touch your face? It's weird, not knowing what you look like." She received no answer; he had seemed reluctant to let her touch him since letting her touch his wings and she wondered whether she had hurt him in some way. Her fingers grasped the material of his shirt and worked upwards, "It won't take long." She whispered, moving towards him slightly. As her hand found his jaw line he was pleased that he didn't stop her as he had last time. Her thumb ran over his lips, marking the slight upturn at the corners. She'd imagined that he would usually have a smile on his face. Carefully, she stroked the skin on his chin, nose, and cheeks and then patted around his eyes. She frowned slightly; unlike his lips his eyes seemed slightly...sad. The laughter lines she'd expected to find were not there. Letting her hands drop to rest against his arm she wondered again whether she'd done something to upset him, "What's wrong?"

She heard him sigh, a quiet exhalation of breath, "I'm not sure this was such a good idea."

Rachel's breath caught in her throat, "What do you mean?" She felt the couch move again underneath her, realised he'd stood up. His voice moved from left to right as he paced in front of her.

"I'm pretending to be someone I'm not." She waited patiently, trying to follow him with her eyes as he moved about the room, "I told you I haven't been a part of Heaven for a long time? That's because I've been here. I've drunk, I've smoked, and I've done things with women that would make you blush." He stopped his voice quieter, "Worst of all, I've killed. I've killed hundreds of humans over the years, just for fun. And I thought I could be like Cas."

Rachel tried to take everything in, but felt utterly overwhelmed, "Who's Cas?"

She heard him groan, and when he spoke again he was almost shouting at her, "Castiel. Another angel." Then he was in front of her, so close she could feel his breath on her face, his fingers wrapped around her arms, "But that's not the point. Rachel, did you hear what I said? I've killed people. Lots of people. Why would you want a guardian angel like me?"

She shook her head, "I didn't ask you to be my guardian angel. I didn't even ask you to be here. If you don't want to be, you can just go."

She felt his hands drop from her arms momentarily, then felt them again on her face, more gentle this time, "Is there anything I can do to help you before I go? Anything you want?"

Rachel nodded, "Can I...can I touch your wings again?" She remembered feeling the feathers running through her fingers, softer than anything she could have imagined.

He sighed again, "Anything but that."

Rachel felt her heart leap into her throat for a second, "Did I hurt you?"

Gabriel looked at her, noticed that her eyes were moist, her hands shaking slightly in her lap, "No, you didn't. The problem is that it felt good, Rachel. Too good."

He saw the confusion on her face, saw her struggling to understand how it could be a bad thing to feel good. A small blush crossed her face and he knew then that she had understood. An angel shouldn't, couldn't, feel that good around any human. He stood, and it was almost a physically difficult task to wrench himself away from her. "I'll go now." He raised his hand, "If you ever need me, just think about me, I'll know." And he was gone.

Rachel sighed as the warm water closed around her. She smiled as she heard the tiny crackle of bubbles from the bath soak. This was the first time since Gabriel left that she'd begun to feel even vaguely normal again. She shook her head as she remember the empty feeling in her stomach right after he left; considering she'd only known him for a day, angel or no, he had made an extraordinarily big impression on her. Still, though, she felt the heat rise in her cheeks when she thought of his admission that having her touch him felt too good, and everything that implied. She imagined that thinking like this probably constituted some kind of blasphemy, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. There had been such a lot of sadness in him; she wasn't sure there was anything she could have done to make him feel better.

Swiftly, remembering his last words to her, she tried to erase all thoughts of him from her mind; she doubted that getting him to appear when she was in the bath would be the best idea. Suddenly, the harsh electronic buzz of her ancient intercom system invaded her thoughts and she groaned out loud. Wrapping her bath robe around her she padded, dripping, to the door, lifting the receiver, "Hello?"

"Hey, Rachel, baby. It's Paul." She sighed; she doubted any voice on the other end of the line would have been less welcome.

"What do you want, Paul?"

"Well, I think I might have left something here. It's a file I need for work. It would be great if I could just come up and get it."

Rachel shook her head, considering her options, "Ok, Paul. I'll let you into the building. Don't come upstairs, please, just tell me where it is and I'll bring it down to you." She hoped and prayed that he would just play along but to no avail.

"Rachel, honey, it will take me 5, 10 minutes at most. I don't know exactly where it is. Please, just let me in."

She nodded, leaning her head against the wall, pushed the door release, "Ok, Paul. Ten minutes."

Rachel opened the door, waiting for him, picking at the sleeve of her bathrobe as she did so. She knew instantly when he was standing in the doorway, knew he was looking at her. It felt different to when Gabriel had been there, she could feel Paul's eyes crawling up and down her body. Inadvertently she pulled the robe tighter around her, "Hey, Paul."

The door clicked shut behind him and she heard him step towards her, "Hey, honey, do I get a kiss?"

Rachel shook her head, stepping back. She was somewhat comforted by the feel of Harvey, soft and warm pressed against her leg. Suddenly, she heard a yelp, and then Paul was laughing, "Oh, wow, look at this little guy. Who is he?" His voice was taunting, sarcastic.

She held her hands out, "It's Harvey, Paul. He's my new guide dog. Can I have him, please?" There was a pause, and she winced as she heard more yelping. Fear made her brave for just a moment, "Paul, stop hurting my dog. Just get your file and get out!" There was another pause and then the reassuring weight against her leg again as Harvey returned to his usual position.

She sighed in relief, but heard Paul step towards her, "I don't want to hurt your dog, you stupid little bitch. I want an explanation. Did you really think you could just throw me out?"

Rachel wrapped her arms around herself, "We were fighting all the time. You hit me, Paul. You made me feel like I was...like I was, going mad. You kept moving my stuff, hiding my keys..."

He moved closer, close enough for her to smell the bitter scent of scotch on his breath, "That doesn't mean it's over. I say when it's over, not you!"

She nodded, finding her back pressed against the kitchen counter again. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the sound of Paul ranting at her. She thought about Gabriel, called his name over and over in her head. Then Paul was against her, hands on her robe, tugging at it. Rachel tried to ignore him, thought about Gabriel. Frustration was building up, like a tight little ball at the back of her throat; this was what he'd told her to do. Think and he would know, he would come. Paul's hand was tugging at her hair now, yanking her head back; his other hand clutching at her flesh inside the robe. She wanted to scream at him, to lash out at him. Instead she kept her eyes firmly shut, imagined digging her fingers into soft feathers again. And then Paul was gone; she could still feel him on her skin where he'd clawed at her, but otherwise she knew that she was alone.

Gabriel looked down at the man in front of him, "You must be Paul. Nice to meet you." He gestured at the scene around them. "So, welcome to my world; a place I affectionately refer to as TV Land. It was originally created for some...friends of mine. They don't need it anymore, so this will be your new home Paul, for the foreseeable future."

Paul looked up and laughed at the small-ish man standing in front of him, "Look man, I don't know who you are, but you better get gone."

Gabriel chuckled, raised his eyebrows, "Really?"

It was then that Paul launched himself at Gabriel and found himself back on the floor quicker than he could blink. Gabriel yanked the man's arm upwards, relishing the snap and the agonised scream that came after it, "Ok, this is how it's going to work," He looked at Paul, "either, you promise to leave Rachel alone, or you stay here, forever. And, trust me, I can be very inventive."

Paul gasped, shook his head, "That's not going to happen."

Gabriel moved away, "I'm sorry, but it is." Then he left, before Paul really started screaming.

She was still standing where he left her. A single tear threaded its way down her cheek and he moved towards her, taking her hands in his, "It's ok Rachel, he's gone."

Her hands moved swiftly to his face, quickly running over the contours of his cheeks, nose and lips. When she was finished she dropped her hands, "Thank you for helping. Looks like you're better at this whole guardian thing than you thought."

He smiled and shook his head, "I wish." He sighed, "Rachel, I wanted you to need me. I haven't stopped thinking about you since I left."

She nodded, "So, what happens now?" She could taste the salty tang of blood in her mouth, and decided that she must have bitten her tongue at some point.

The angel looked at her, his gaze lingering longer than it would have if he knew she could return it; her skin was red, blotchy where the tears had left their tracks, traces of darkness that would become bruises on her neck where Paul had held her. She was unquestionably; unavoidably human and he had made a promise to her. He shook his head, "Now I have to go."

Rachel frowned; she'd heard that tone of voice before, slightly defeated, full of pity. In a rush her past relationships came flooding back; all the ones that had meant something to her ending too quickly and all the ones that had caused her pain dragging on for what felt like endless periods of time. She knew from his tone that her relationship with Gabriel was about to end up in the former category; even the man who claimed to be her guardian angel couldn't stand to be around the endless car crash that her life was turning into.

She lowered her head again, one hand rubbing at her neck, trying to massage some feeling back into the numbness that Paul had left there, her voice was no more than a whisper, "I know why you want to go. It's my sight, isn't it? It makes you feel like you're taking advantage." She paused, hands dropping to her sides, "It's ok, though. You're not the first person to feel that way."

Gabriel stared at the girl as though she was mad; not really believing anyone could feel that way when they looked at her. He remembered the smooth skin of her fingertips, on his face, in his wings; wondered if admitting that he wanted her to touch the rest of him would sound too weird. No, it was not her blindness that made him uncomfortable.

It was her mortality. Her position as one of his father's creations. Over his years on earth, he'd grown to think of them as weak, no more than playthings really. The almost-Apocalypse had changed all that, and Rachel was the first human he'd spoken to since then. He could no longer take pleasure from human women where he could find it and leave the next day; not since proclaiming himself to be on their side, since so eloquently arguing in defence of them to his brother.

It would not, he thought, be taking advantage to be with her because of her blindness, but it would be taking advantage to do so after fostering a relationship based on him protecting her.

Her voice broke him out of his existential crisis momentarily, "Gabriel, I...can't see, but I can feel how you look at me. It feels different to the way most people look at me, it feels different to when Paul looked at me. You don't need to leave if you don't want to...I'm not afraid when you're here."

Rachel never imagined that the sharp snapping sound of fingers clicking together could make her feel so utterly alone, but in that moment it did.