I must warn you, this chapter is pretty chick-flicky—even more so than the rest of this story. If you don't like that, I have a simple solution for you: don't read it.

I don't own Supernatural or any references to anything else you may recognize.

Jill had always prided herself on being a very calm and level-headed woman. When she'd caught her husband cheating on her, she had very quietly told him that she was leaving, then proceeded to pack her bags and catch a bus into the city. Even when she lost everything in the divorce and was forced to rent out a rundown apartment and take up a job as a prostitute, she didn't complain. Life wasn't fair; no point in whining about it.

Losing her baby, however, was a different story. It almost broke her. Everything had gone wrong, she had lost the one thing that mattered most, and she couldn't see why God hated her so much. But she had managed to keep calm through that, too, and it eventually paid off. She had found the flyer for the orphanage and regained her faith in God. Now she was even getting paid, instead of just working as a volunteer. Her life was slowly getting better, and she was slowly becoming the same calm and level-headed woman she was before.

And then she met Castiel. And she helped him regain his faith in his father.

She helped an angel restore his faith in God.

Yes, she had been sure he was an angel from the second he gave his name. It was just too unique, and too coincidental, seeing as their first meeting had happened on a Thursday.

And no human looked like that or had that strange light blurring the edges of his body. Thinking back, maybe she should've told him about the light. She was curious—could all humans see it? And if so, why hadn't people realized what he was before?

Castiel was nothing like how she thought an angel would be.

He was beautiful, yes, and alarmingly so, but he was different. In the Bible, it described angels as fearsome warriors, able to unleash the divine wrath of God. But Castiel wasn't fearsome. He was kind and cautious and a bit clueless; he was loyal and sympathetic and full of doubt for himself and others; he seemed so willing to trust, yet so scared, and Jill had sensed a certain power within him, but fearsome? No way.

Not that she would say that to him, of course—offending an angel would be a totally stupid thing to do.

And the way he made her feel… Not even her husband had made her feel like that. Granted, Brian was a total dick—but he wasn't always that way. Still, even when they were just out of high school and madly in love, Brian had never made her heart flutter or her face flush or her palms sweat the way that angel did. Hell, she'd met him twice, and she was already head-over-heels for him.

Head-over-heels for an angel. Ha. What would her mom think of that? At least Jill could say that he was a very devout Christian—that would score them some brownie points for sure.

She couldn't get him out of her head, and it was starting to annoy her. She should be pissed beyond belief—he knocked her out and left her on a park bench the last time they saw each other—but something about him just wouldn't let her stay mad.

Maybe it was the slightly bemused look that was permanently etched on his face.

Maybe it was the smile he wore when she would burst out laughing.

Or maybe it was his eyes, eyes so blue and bottomless she felt like she could drown in them. Eyes that watched her every move, even if it was just the twitch of her fingers or the nervous tapping of her foot. Eyes that seemed to stare into her heart and soul and capture them both completely without even trying…

Yes, it was the eyes. Definitely the eyes.

But it was the rest of him, too: the faint stubble on his jaw and the mess of dark hair that brushed his forehead, that ridiculous trench coat and suit that made him look like a tax accountant, the way his head tilted to the side like a bird when he listened, and the deep, raspy, monotonous voice that didn't quite match his face, but still sent shivers up her spine.

He was perfect—utterly, beautifully, indescribably perfect.

And she wasn't.

Dark, drab, brown hair that matched her dark, drab, brown eyes. Unevenly tanned skin from playing outside with the children so much. A large, misshapen birthmark from her left ear to her jaw, which she used her hair to hide—she didn't even think Castiel knew about it.

And then there was the scar.

It was long and ugly, stretching across her stomach, the constant reminder of the fall that caused her to lose her baby. She hadn't lied when she told Cas that there had been no major injuries, but they had been major enough to leave the scar.

She was so painfully self-conscious of it. Her first night on the streets, she had lost her customer because she freaked when he asked where it came from. But, eventually, she got used to the hands brushing over it curiously and the whispered questions in the dark.

But if Castiel ever saw it—well, he couldn't. He was so beautiful, so pure, and she couldn't bear to let him see another of her imperfections.

Really, when she thought about it, she guessed she didn't have much to worry about. Not like they were ever going to do anything—he was an angel. And, hell, she'd probably never see him again, anyway.

Jill tried not to think about that. It hurt too much.

So she went on with her life and attempted to forget about the angel. It would do her no good to wish for things that would never happen. Best to be happy with what she had—she was good at that.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

"What's going on in that head of yours?"

The voice jolted Jill out of her thoughts and she looked up into the caring hazel eyes of Molly, her best friend and coworker.

"Oh, um, nothing," Jill said quickly.

"Is it a boy?" Molly asked suspiciously, a knowing smile on her face as she sat down on the park bench.

"No, it's—" Jill faltered. She couldn't lie to Molly. "Yeah, it is," she admitted with a dramatic sigh.

Molly clapped her hands enthusiastically and let out a little squeal of excitement. "I knew it!" she crowed. "Tell me all about him! His job, his personality, his looks! Oh yeah, and his name…" she added as an afterthought.

Jill giggled a little and rolled her eyes. "His name is Castiel," she said slowly.

"Oooh, unique! I like it! What's he like? Is he a bad boy? That just kinda seems your type!"

Jill didn't even bother asking how bad boys seemed her type. "No, he's… he's sweet," she said lamely, and Molly raised an eyebrow as if to say Really? That's the best you can do? Jill sighed again. "But it's not just that. He's mysterious and shy and hesitant, and he's full of self-doubt and doubt for others. He doesn't come off as a very trusting person, but I can tell how much he wants to trust, and I'm trying to help him with that. And he doesn't really get slang or anything—but it's not annoying, it's… endearing."

"Well, he doesn't sound too boring," Molly teased, smiling. "What's he do?"

"Not sure," Jill said vaguely, and it wasn't a lie—she really didn't know what he did for a living—besides occasionally saving the world. "Mysterious, remember?"

"What's he look like?"

How was she supposed to describe him? Nothing she said would even come close to doing his beauty justice. But she could try.

"He's got dark hair—I can never tell if it's black or brown—and it's kinda messy, but not on purpose like most guys these days. He's got a little bit of stubble on his jaw, but he's not scruffy. And there's this trench coat he wears—sorry, overcoat—he corrected me last time I called it that—and it makes him look like a tax accountant or something, but in a good way."

"Sounds… interesting?" Molly said, giving Jill an odd look.

"And his eyes," Jill continued, as if Molly had never interrupted. Here her voice took on a dreamy quality and she stared off across the park. "They're the brightest, most beautiful blue you can imagine—so blue they're almost unreal. And when he looks at me, I feel frozen, captured, but not in a bad way, in the most amazing way you can think of, and the way he looks at me makes me feel beautiful, too. I just—I dunno how else to describe it. I've never felt this way about anyone, not even Brian. Castiel… he's an angel—beautiful and mysterious and perfect."

Molly stared at Jill, her mouth forming a small O of shock. Jill didn't notice, continuing to gaze at the deserted playground. "Wow, Jill," Molly said finally, laughing to cover her discomfort. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're in love with the guy!"

Jill sat up straight, snapping out of her reverie, and turned to stare at her friend. "You're right," she said quietly, her voice full of awe. "I am in love with him!"

"Head-over-heels" had been an understatement. Jill was completely in love with Castiel. It didn't matter that she had only seen him twice—she knew him, and she loved him.

And that was all that mattered.

She jumped to her feet and Molly flinched back in alarm. "What're you doing?" Molly asked bewilderedly.

"I have to find him—I have to tell him!" Jill exclaimed, a gigantic grin spreading over her face. "Can you take my shift? Tell Mrs. Jacobs I'll make it up this weekend!"

"O—okay…?"

"Thanks, Mol, you're the best! I'll call you later!" Jill took off running, waving behind her without looking.

"Yeah, you better!" Molly called after her, shaking her head, but Jill didn't hear a word.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

Jill took the steps two at a time, not even slowing to walk around the homeless man asleep in the hallway. Instead, she leapt over him and continued to run.

She sprinted up two more flights of stairs, coming to a skidding halt in front of her door. She fumbled with the keys and nearly dropped them in her haste, but finally managed to get into her apartment.

Hands on hips, she surveyed the area. It wasn't much, but it was home—for the time being, anyway. But it sure was messy.

Well, of course it was. She worked at the orphanage during the day, and most of the time, as soon as it got dark, she worked the streets. She had no time for straightening up an apartment that nobody visited.

She went into a cleaning frenzy, determined to bring some sort of order to the place.

A little over an hour later, she was satisfied. The place wasn't sparkling, but it was better than it had been in a long time.

Now she just had to figure out how to get Castiel there. Should she pray? Would that work? It should; he was the Angel of Thursday, and it was Thursday. Didn't she hear somewhere that if someone prayed to him on his day, he had to answer?

Either way, it was worth a shot.

Jill stepped into the middle of her tiny living room/kitchenette, turned her face to the ceiling, and closed her eyes. Her hand slipped into her pocket, and she lightly touched the old penny for luck.

"Castiel?" she tried hesitantly, her voice shaking slightly. "Castiel, can you hear me? It's Jill. But—but you knew that already, didn't ya?" She sighed, feeling extremely foolish. "I'm worried about you. After the whole Crowley thing… You can't just expect me to forget that. I wanna talk to you. I wanna know how you're doing. I wanna see you again." Her voice began to get stronger as she became more comfortable with what she was doing.

"I'm sorry, Cas," Jill continued, "about what happened last time. I shouldn't have pushed you into doin' something you didn't wanna do, or talkin' about a touchy subject or whatever. And I want you to know… I'm not mad. I was, but I'm not anymore. I mean, you knocked me out with your angel mojo and left me on a park bench all alone, but I just… I can't stay mad at you."

She cracked an eye open and glanced around the room. He wasn't there. She felt the unwelcome prickling of tears and squeezed her eyes shut again. "Cas, c'mon," she pleaded, trying her best not to sound as desperate as she felt. "Cas, please. I have to talk to you. It—it's really important. Talk to me. Please." Her voice cracked on the last word and she frowned.

Why did she have to be so desperate?

Jill opened her eyes. The apartment was still empty. This time, she couldn't hold back the tears. "You told me you only came back to see if I was safe," she croaked. "I know you were lyin', Cas. Didn't we go over that? Please just talk to me. I know you hear me."

She opened her eyes a third time, but she was still alone.

That was it. She had been fighting a breakdown from the beginning, but she couldn't do it any longer.

She sank to the floor and wrapped her arms around herself as sobs shook her small frame. "Please, Cas!" she cried, tears streaming down her face and dripping into a tiny puddle on the floor. She didn't know why she was crying so much—was it really just desperation? Her mind briefly went back to their last conversation, the conversation about souls and Purgatory, and she knew that half of her breakdown came from fear for his life.

She still felt pathetic.

"I need to see you! Please come back! Please! I—I love you, Cas! I love you!"

Jill's sobs eventually subsided into muffled hiccups and she buried her face in her hands. "Please," she whispered. "Please…"

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

Castiel stood, invisible, in the corner of Jill's apartment.

She didn't know it, but he'd been watching over her every day, only leaving when the Winchesters called. He wanted to show himself, but he knew it was a bad idea. He shouldn't even be there. If Raphael found out…

He had heard her prayer and flown back to her immediately. And then he heard her confession. She loved him. He didn't know how to feel about that.

He was happy, of course, and unbelievably so, but he was also confused.

Did he love her, too? He was an angel—he didn't even know what love felt like.

But what he did know was that he was attracted to Jill, that she made him feel different, not so alone and hopeless and defeated—she made him feel human, but in the best sense of the word. Just seeing her gave him a surge of hope and strength.

And seeing her cry over him… It was pure torture. Every instinct, angelic and human, was screaming at him to go to her, to take her into his arms and wipe away her tears and tell her he was sorry and that he would never leave her again.

Was that love?

Somehow, he knew it was.

Castiel had fallen from Heaven, and then he had fallen in love.

An angel and a prostitute. What a pair they made.

Suddenly, Jill stood up slowly and stared right at him, her eyes red and puffy from crying. For a moment, he wondered if she saw him, but she just sniffled loudly and shuffled into her bedroom. After a brief hesitation, he followed her.

He watched as she walked over to her bed and flopped down onto it. She reached for a small figurine on her bedside table, then seemed to think better of it and curled up into a ball. She pulled the covers up to her chin, and he could've sworn he heard her crying again.

Crying over him again.

An ounce of curiosity sparked in him, and he slowly made his way over to her bedside table. He took the figurine in his hand, then almost dropped it out of shock.

It was him—well, the "douchey" version of him, as Dean would say: large, graceful wings, long, flowing robes, and wise, slightly feminine beauty. It even had a plaque that read "Castiel, Angel of Thursday."

Where had she managed to find that? He turned the figurine upside down and saw a sticker on the bottom, saying that it had been five dollars from a flea market.

He didn't know whether to smile or frown. Smile because he was touched and a tiny bit amused that she had bought a miniature him? Or frown because she had turned the sculpture away?

He could hear Dean calling him. With a sigh, he put the figurine back in its place.

There was still time for him to wake her, for him to tell her he was sorry and he felt the same. He almost did; then he thought of Raphael again and stopped himself.

Dean's voice pierced his thoughts again. He sounded urgent and upset. Castiel would bet his nonexistent soul that it was about Sam.

Ever since Castiel had brought Sam back, he had noticed a change in the younger Winchester—and it wasn't a good change. Yes, Castiel had saved him from the Cage—where Lucifer and Michael had surely tortured him relentlessly—but Castiel still couldn't believe that it had changed the caring, sensitive man he once knew into an unflinching, emotionless machine. And if something was wrong with Sam… Well, it was all Castiel's fault.

He looked down at Jill's now-sleeping form longingly. What would happen if he became visible and crawled in beside her? Would she scream at him and tell him to leave, or would she curl up to him and welcome him lovingly, no questions asked?

He liked to think it was the latter option.

Castiel sighed again, mentally preparing himself to leave her once more. He walked around to the other side of the bed so that he could see her face. She looked so devastated, even in her sleep. He had thought that most people were peaceful when they slept, but, apparently, he was wrong.

Suddenly, he caught sight of a dark smudge on her cheek. He stepped closer and squinted at it, then realized it was a birthmark, stretching from her left cheekbone to her chin. He couldn't believe he had never seen it before. Was she self-conscious of it? He couldn't imagine why. To him, it only made her more beautiful.

He heard Dean's voice and knew he wouldn't call again. Three times was his limit. Castiel had to go.

He gazed at Jill one last time, aching to reach out to her. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice slightly catching in his throat. In a split-second decision, he extended his hand and touched the birthmark gently, his fingers feather-light against her skin. "I—I love you, too."

She began to wake up, so, forgetting he was invisible, the angel panicked and flew to his friend.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

Jill woke up suddenly, but she didn't know why. She usually slept all night, no matter what went on. Living in a city as big and busy as Chicago must have trained her to be a deep sleeper.

She looked around her apartment groggily, but she didn't see anything suspicious.

Right as she was lying back down, kicking herself for being so paranoid, something caught her eye.

Her angel had moved.

The figurine normally sat right beside her alarm clock, facing the bed—watching over her, as she liked to think.

Now, it was on the opposite side of the bedside table, facing toward the living room. Someone had moved it.

Jill said bolt upright in her bed and glanced around wildly. "Cas?" she said hopefully, her voice still hoarse from crying. "Cas, you there?"

No reply.

Of course there was no reply. What was she expecting? For him to be there and pull her into his arms and kiss her forehead and tell her that everything was going to be okay? She was fooling herself if she had even considered the possibility.

Her eyes prickled again and a tear rolled down her cheek. With a final sweep of her bedroom, she wiped away the tear and snuggled under her covers again. "G'night, Cas," she whispered as she drifted back to sleep.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

Castiel knew he had a lot to make up for, and he remembered the promise he had made to himself the year before.

He would go back once the war was over. He would make her smile again. And he would tell her how he felt.

Maybe things would finally go his way. Maybe he could be happy.

Hell, after all he'd done, he certainly deserved it.