2015.07.28 - Dislocation: Divine Revelations of Potentially Apocalyptic Proportions... and Tacos

**Emitter:** Castiel (Plot contact)

*Castiel, having gathered a number of potential Champions, reveals what Heaven knows about the strange, potentially apocalyptic events taking shape across the continent.*

July 27, 2015

A taqueria in San Francisco

*We join a scene, already in progress, between Fred, Gunn, and Faith.*

As Fred continues to cling to Gunn, they close the gate on Faith's motorcycle in the Hyperion courtyard and continue forward. While they may or may not know where those tacos are in San Francisco, at least they will attempt to find them. And possibly use a trolley while they do so.

Though the young physicist is still not quite certain that this is not a parallel dimension, she is horribly hopeful that at least this place will have tacos. She already spent five years making do with bark enchiladas; another five would just be injustice. "I'm sure we'll find something or we'll come to end of what may be this dark reality's usable material and then bounce off. So, at least, at that point, we'll know where we are and from there it's only a point of figuring out where we are and how to get back to the original LA, 'cause, ya'know, if it happened once before, it's more likely to happen before. And, anyway, if this place at least has tacos, it's gotta be better'n Pylea." Pausing, she looks between Gunn and Faith. "So the trolley's this way, yeah?"

"I'm trying to *tell* you you're just in San Francisco. This is *not* a hell dimension. I think I'd know," the brunette woman with them says, the only one of the three who would ping significantly on any supernatural radar. Rolling her eyes at the other two. "Still, I suppose I can't *prove* it isn't one. Although good tacos would be evidence, right?"

"Tacos," says the voice of a man none of them had noticed previously. "I believe you'll find a small place with excellent tacos just two blocks south, then one block west. It has a lovely ocean view from the rooftop patio. The sign says 'Taqueria del Mar.' I assure you that is the place you'll want to go." He's an average-looking man. Height, build--average. Handsome in a common sort of way. Clothes that any businessman might wear at the end of the day: a rumpled suit and trench coat.

"That... sounds close. Too close." Gunn's attention is on the man that he didn't notice before and he's making sure to not take his eyes off him either. Mostly because he needs to keep Fred safe. If she freaks out because of this, he's going to have to punch this dude. So he's ready. "Too close to catch the trolley." Frown. Maybe next time.

He makes sure he's near Faith a bit with this next statement, "Did you bring him? Or is it about to get real?"

One of those fun things about being a Slayer was the occasional free nightly entertainment, in the form of visions piped directly from God knows what right into your brain.

About a week ago, Buffy had one of these while helping clear a nest of vampires alongside a group of other Slayers, and if there's one thing she had learned over the course of her life in Sunnydale? When you get messed-up prophetic dreams, it was best to listen. A phone call to Giles later, and he set her on the course towards one Dylan Meredith, who was to meet her... well, here, at a tacquiera. In San Francisco. Huh.

Dressed in a leather jacket over a white blouse, maroon pants with a flared cut, over motorcycle boots, Buffy had arrived at Taqueria del Mar - and with a name like that, she had to try the fish tacos. So that's what she had on the table in front of her - two fish tacos, and her backpack - waiting there.

"Never seen him before in my life," Faith murmurs back. "But it's still daylight, I think he's just a helpful local." No, she doesn't know who or what Castiel is. Or she'd be walking very rapidly in whatever direction would take her most expediently away from him. "I think Fred wants tacos, and if they suck, I can always track this guy down and have words." A sweet smile and the rogue slayer changes course towards the aforementioned taqueria.

The average-looking man gives them both a friendly nod, smiling in a stiff sort of way, and says, "Yes. I'm... a helpful local. I'm headed that way myself, in fact, so I may see you there." Then he turns, making his way off, and at the first opportunity ducks down a side street. Those with very careful ears may pick up on the faintest sound, almost like the flutter of distant wings.

Tacos tacos tacos! It may not be Tuesday, but any day's great for tacos as far as Dean's concerned. He just had a hot dog and fries at the mall, not too long ago, but now he's digging in to tacos, and of course the complimentary chips and salsa. "Hey darlin', could you bring me another cold one? Thanks honey." A wink and a smile for the waitress and he's back to eating like there's no tomorrow. He did at least get some cash out of Castiel after all, despite it looking like he wouldn't at first. So naturally, the first thing he did was blow it on tacos and beer. Is there any better way to spend twenty bucks in this place?

Wyatt Halliwell is with Dean at the taco place, sitting in the seat across from him. And, perhaps, sneaking an occasional chip. "Wonder why he wanted us to come here? This doesn't seem any safer place to talk than the mall. Well, I guess, maybe a tiny bit."

Lord Glamorgan manages to drive on the right side of the road, with traffic, though his import is clearly designed to drive on the left. He's still familiarizing himself with the city, so it takes him a bit of time to locate the correct address. Soon enough, however, he's parking in the spot beside a certain Chevy Impala. Trading his tweed driving cap for a bowler, he unfolds himself from the tiny sports car and hooks an umbrella over his elbow, then makes his way into the establishment. "Dreadful," he mutters to himself, examining the decor. "What I wouldn't give for a proper chipper." At last, he spots Dean and Wyatt, turning toward their table. "May I ask why we're convening in another public location?" he asks in clipped tones. "I thought the idea was to achieve a degree of privacy."

Gunn moves off in the direction of the taco place because his player is not going to try and spell out that mexican word for it because DAMN. Anyway, Gunn's movements are slower and more reluctant as he watches a trolley ding in and pick up and drop off people with such cool timing that he can't believe he has to walk right now. Sigh.

"... You payin', right?" That, of course, is to Faith. Because Gunn is poor. Forget the Fresh Prince clothes he's wearing. He's still poor.

"What, he doesn't pay you very well?" Faith quips. "Then...he never was much on having stuff. By the way, that guy wasn't a helpful local." She shifts her stance and motion as she approaches the taqueria. She fully knows she's being set up. "Oh no." That's when she sees...Glamorgan. "Him."

A world-weary sigh comes from Buffy, the hazel eyes of the blonde flicking in Dean's direction at what she overhears. Feeling a little offended on behalf of the waitress, she glances between her and Dean, kinda crinkling her nose. Well. The waitress didn't seem to upset - probably because Dean flew on the handsome side of the force.

After letting her eyes linger on the guy for a little longer, her eyes flicker towards Wyatt, briefly taking in the odd pair.

But the Britishness that invades their sanctum is a red flag for Buffy, and she swings her legs out from under the table, brushes off remnants of fried codfish from her jacket, shoulders her backpack... and approaches their table. "I... get the feeling that you're the guy I'm here to see," says Buffy, pointing a finger at el Ducho de Glamorgan. "...call it a hunch." A beat, and she feels the hairs at the back of her neck prickling, to see... Faith. "...her," she says, pursing her lips tightly. "Been a while, Faith," she says, voice casual.

"What, he doesn't pay you very well?" Faith quips. "Then...he never was much on having stuff. By the way, that guy wasn't a helpful local." She shifts her stance and motion as she approaches the taqueria. She fully knows she's being set up. "Oh no." That's when she sees...Glamorgan. "Him." And then. "Oh no. We have *definitely* been set up." But, oddly, she quickens her pace. "Come on, Gunn, Fred." That was definitely a flash of blonde, wasn't it.

And then that guy in the trench coat, Castiel to those who know him, is there, too. How did he get in? Oddly, nobody noticed. As he arrives, he gestures around, "We may wish to push all the tables together. We're a somewhat large party." He nods to Dean, then to Glamorgan, gestures for Faith, Fred, and Gunn to come in.. "Wyatt," he says as though speaking to a colleague and not a kid, "Would you please see that we're not overheard? Thank you." Then, finally, he turns to Buffy. "Pardon me. I believe you're... Ms. Summers? I'm sorry I haven't introduced myself yet. My name is Castiel, and I am a messenger."

"Y'know. Usually when we walk into a trap, we're armed to the teeth and doing it in slow motion. I don't like this way." Gunn mutters this to Faith while keeping Fred close. "Also? Usin' tacos? Uncool." Gunn doesn't look happy about any of these events that are transpiring at this exact moment. But he's not going to leave Faith and Fred out in the cold. He'll hit somebody with a burrito if he has to.

Dean is definitely not pushing tables, he's too busy eating. But he doesn't seem to be bothered by sharing food with Wyatt. After all, they're both under Castiel's patronage! Or whatever he calls it. Funding. He's funding Dean and Wyatt's fiesta de bueno or whatever, as Dean would probably call it. The pidgin-Spanish would likely be even clunkier and more awkward after a few more cervezas. The waitress arrives with another cold one for him, just as he finishes the one he's working on, but the elder Winchester brother seems to be about willing to do absolutely nothing but eat until and unless something actually starts happening. Sure, he'll take in the pleasant sights, which includes some of the people ostensibly joining him. But he's got the waitress to flirt with. Because sometimes it leads to larger portions and free dessert.

Wyatt Halliwell looks around at all those gathering, with open curiosity on his face. As Castiel requests his help, he blinks, but then thinks for a moment, and nods quickly. He waits until everybody is gathered, and then speaks up, "As angels gather a band of few, Strangers around begin to rumble, To keep our secrets with friends new, Let all others hear only mumbles." Those Castiel invited will probably suddenly notice that, while they can hear each other clearly, the sound of everybody else is muffled.

"Oh my," Lord Glamorgan mutters, glancing at the new arrivals. "Miss Lehane...and Miss Summers. This is a surprise." He frowns a bit, looking Buffy up and down. "I thought you'd be taller." Like Dean, he makes no attempt to move any tables around, though for very different reasons. With only a cursory glance at Gunn and Fred, he fixes his gaze upon Wyatt. "Well done, lad. A rather useful talent you have there. I wonder if you might like to teach it to me some time." After removing his hat, he takes a seat at the table, settling in as he waits for Castiel to begin his presentation.

"It's not a trap." Faith detaches herself from Gunn, then glances at Wyatt. "I remember you. YOU are the witch that was teking stakes around." She flickers the kid a grin, then, she turns to Castiel. "Either we're all about to be blown up or you're playing games with us. Got a feeling it's the latter, Mister *Messenger.*" Joy. It's the Powers That Be. All she needs.

"If we get blown up, I quit. I'm just sayin'." Gunn ushers Fred into a seat at their chosen table. He catches a glance of blondness that happens to be Buffy and makes a mental note. "Remind me to tell Angel to never come to this taco place. Ever." This is tossed to Fred. "Y'know, unless he wants to kill everything in sight afterwards." Gunn leans back against the seat and peers off into the direction of all these other people and whatever Castiel is talking about. He doesn't really like uh... messages from white guys in trench coats. Speaking of, "How come the messenger can't ever be Janet Jackson?"

Buffy wasn't precisely ready to push tables together either. Everyone else there - watcher, angel, witch and mortal alike - Buffy might give them a little glance, but she had her jaw so tight right now, her gaze full on Faith. "If... this is a setup, Faith," she says, her tone of voice tight as well. "...it isn't mine."

A moment's time - Castiel was the obvious culprit for bringing them together, so her eyes shift towards the 'messenger' at first, her head canting to the side. "Nice to meet you, Cas. Are you in the Watcher's Council as well?" she asks, her eyes flickering between Cas and Glamorgan now. And... was that a spell being cast? Faith seemed to know the score, so her slightly intense gaze goes back to her. "Cas an old friend of yours?"

Holding up both hands for calm and attention, Castiel says, "Please, everyone. I am only permitted to disclose this information in a limited way, so I'm attempting to ensure that it reaches the proper ears as directly as I can." He sighs faintly and moves the tables into position himself, pushing them around in a most mundane fashion. Finally, he then takes a seat at what might pass for the foot of the "table." "My name, as I said, is Castiel. I am indeed a messenger, but I do *not* represent the Watcher's Council." He pauses, then stands up a bit awkwardly again, and lets his arms fall to his sides. Not managing to muster much grandeur at all, he declares his purpose:

"I am an Angel of Heaven. I have come on behalf of the Powers That Be."

Dean looks around them, seeing that maybe everyone isn't hearing this. Yeah, they're not hearing this, or they don't really care. Most of the time, regular people couldn't give two shits about hunter business, or supernatural whatever, and they usually think you're batshit bonker-ass nuts if you talk about vampires, werewolves, zombies, ghosts, or whatever might be on their entertainment peripherals. "And he's totally not a molester, okay?" This, apparently, he deemed necessary to point out after the earlier encounter. As Cas continues to speak, he crunches into the chips and salsa. Crunch. CRUNCH. Crunch. Chew chew chew. CRUNNNNCH.

Wyatt Halliwell smiles back to Faith and nods quickly. "I'm Wyatt," he adds, in a quick introduction, but then Castiel has begun to speak so he quiets as quickly as if Castiel was a teacher and this was a class.

Lord Glamorgan frowns a touch at Castiel's introduction. "Bit dramatic, don't you think, old chap? Why don't you tell us why you've gathered together such an odd array of individuals. Is it safe to assume this has something to do with the Hellmouth in Beacon Hills?"

"Faith," she responds to the kid. Then she glances at the Watcher. Oho, so there is a hellmouth there. And wolves. Of course, wolves aren't always bad. Some of them can be quite...civilized. After that? She goes back to glaring at Castiel. Buffy just gets a short, sharp shake of the head. Not her setup. That guy's.

Close at Gunn's side, Fred watches the goings on with wide eyed worry and curiosity. She, Faith and Gunn were going out for tacos and now they're eating tacos with strangers and possibly an angel. Led into and then seated at the table, she studies the man who says he's an Angel of the Lord and then a voice ot the Powers that Be and blinks. "The Powers that Be? Like the ones that Cordy gets visions from?" She looks to Gunn and then back at the nondescript man in the trenchcoat claiming to be an Angel, stunned. "Wow, I never thought I'd see one. What is this information you've got to disclose? If you were sent by both a God and a Power, I'd imagine it's pretty important." Then, she looks at the table, pondering.

"Also, sorry if I'm just bein' rude, but I gotta ask. I mean, when does anyone actually get a chance to ask a question of a self proclaimed angel? I mean, we know an Angel and he knows quite a lot, but he's not exactly an *angel*, you know? So, if you're an Angel of the Lord, is there a certain Lord you're an angel for? What I'm gettin' at, is does that mean that all religions are at once true and contradicatory or that there is one Singular Truth? I was studying, before, this thing called the String Theory which means that all realities are actually just strings that vibrate and react to one another based on the way that all the threads within move. So, are all religions like strings in the universe? All true and tangled up and stuff? Basically like a sweater that you can just pull on and unravel? Or is it more like...crochet?"

Then, Fred looks at Dean and his chips, realizing that she's hungry and the tacos have not yet arrived. "Are ya gonna eat all those, or can I have a few?" Unperturbed by the long and rambling question, and as names are going around from Wyatt and Castiel, she blinks, smiling innocently at those around her. "Oh, um, I'm Fred. Fred Burkle. Sorry, I wasn't interrupting, was I?"

Buffy pauses a moment as Angel was... mentioned, her eyes flickering to the quiet-so-far Fred. There was a softening in her eyes that was palatable, and a curiousity as well, but there was business to attend to. And it was easy to focus on that. Glancing back towards Faith, there was a certain sisterhood that she felt with the other slayer - when they could focus on Watchers and others as enemies, there was a sense that it was us versus them, you know?

Even if she didn't turn her back fully towards Faith, as her eyes move to angels and sundry.

"Nice to meet you Fred - and everyone else as well. It's just a great big party of new people being introduced to each other," she says, giving Dean a thumbsup and a wink. "Good to know he's not a molester. Would be pretty bad if that's what angels did, you know?" she says. Afterwards, attention was on Cas.

Gunn just sits back in his seat. He's watching Fred this entire time and doesn't actually have anything to say. There's just a big smile on his face that would probably be misread as 'That's My Girl' but since they are obviously not together (okay, maybe not *obviously* but still) it's more like: 'That's Gonna Be My Girl'.

If a waitress comes by, he also orders a crapload of tacos. And something for Fred.

Castiel seems less surprised by Dean's reaction than one might expect. He simply gives a curt nod in agreement that he is, indeed, not a molester. Then Fred offers up her deluge of questions, and he blinks quite a few times. Settling slowly back into his seat, he says, "Those are all... interesting questions. Perhaps we'll have a chance to discuss them at greater length. For now, suffice to say that I am a messenger from... yes, I would say 'God.' However, please understand when I say that 'God' is neither a simple nor a static concept. As such, perhaps it is... simpler... to use the appellation, 'The Powers That Be.'" This said, he gives a slow, firm nod.

"My message is a simple one, yet I fear making use if will not be. I am instructed to inform you all of three key items. The first: An as-yet unknown group is utilizing as-yet unknown rituals of great power to siphon magical energy away from areas where it is exceptionally concentrated. So far, known focal points include Los Angeles, Chicago, and Mystic Falls, Virginia." He hardly pauses to let this settle in before continuing.

"The second: This appears to have been done in the service of a greater power. We believe the magic has been taken by these lesser rituals to fuel a much larger greater ritual. This ritual would have sufficient power to alter the balance of reality as we know it." Again, with hardly a pause, he says, "The third: The Powers have only limited capacity to act, but they have instructed the Heavenly Host to ensure that certain individuals--some of you among them--are not harmed by these rituals. Thus, various individuals and even certain places... have been relocated."

Dean lifts his beer to Buffy as she acknowledges him and seems to find him acceptable. Or maybe she's making a dig. Whatever, she's blonde and cute and not a threat at the moment and anyway his focus is currently on tortilla chips and booze. But when Fred actually engages him on that same focal level -- the chips specifically -- he motions with his other hand after setting his current taco down. "Pull up a chair, make yourself at home. Call me Dean. Fred, huh? Guess you don't like Winnie. My brother can totally get you there."

Then Cas says his thing, and despite crunching on chips, Dean seems to be able to listen and absorb actual information. "So...right, so someone does all this crazy shit, but God or Gods or whatever don't know who...but you...want us to do something about the crazy shit. That's like the story of my life." He picks up the basket of chips and holds it out to Fred.

Wyatt Halliwell's eyes widen a little at the information Castiel reveals. "Wow." Then, at the end, he asks, "Is that why there's a new hotel near here? I saw it before I went to the mall, I wanted to check it out but I was hungry first. Thought maybe it was demons doing something." Not having a clue people from that hotel are present, apparently.

Lord Glamorgan removes a small, leatherbound notebook from an inner pocket, flipping through it as he turns Fred. "Miss Burkle? That would make you...Mister Gunn, I presume? It was my understanding your base of operations was in Los Angeles." Then Castiel spills his big news, and the Earl scowls rather dramatically. "You've relocated...places? Dare I ask how this was achieved?" He gives his head a quick shake. "I would like to request full accounts on all of these rituals, if you please. As much information as you can provide. I will need report this to the Council, of course. None of this has anything to do with the Hellmouth in Beacon Hills, if indeed there is a Hellmouth in that small village?"

What with the angel and the hellmouth and all the other things people have said, it's hard for Fred to focus on one thing at all. At first, it's being wary, but then, she can't help herself: she understands what Buffy is saying and she hasn't gotten many cultural references from the past five years. Even if she doesn't know who the blonde woman is, she feels a kinship. "Oh! I know that reference. Touched by an Angel, right? I saw that before Pylea. Nice to meet you, too."

Already plucking at the bowl of chips, Fred beams at Dean and continues, "Does your brother have a horse nickname?" Fred asks Dean in a way that seems very earnest. She's not asking him to make fun of him at all. It may be clear why the girl from Texas insisted on Fred as opposed to 'Winnie' now. When Gunn orders her tacos, she grins and keeps chowing down on the proffered chips with grateful gusto. Even a she munches, she listens seriously to Castiel's explanation, brow furrowed with concentration. "'Course, she tells him about discussing things later. Think I've even got some knitting needles for demonstrations. Though, I may poke you accidentally. Never got the hang of the cable knit." The mention of LA being a hot spot is met with serious frown. "So, that's they the Hyperion is in San Francisco and not LA? And you don't know what why they need all that power for that ritual?" At least now her questions are a bit more focused, since she has something to actually focus on.

Wyatt's mention of the hotel is met with a frown. "We're not demons! I mean, not most of us. Or, well, I haven't seen Lorne. And even if I had, he's a good demon..." she trails off at Lord Glamorgan seeming to know her, suddenly shy and wary. "How do you know us?"

Buffy's attention of course grows grimmer as Castiel relates the full scoop on the crazy things growing around the world. "Well, big scary cultists bringing around the end of the world. It's only been almost a year, we were due for another world-shattering cataclysm," she says, folding her arms in front of herself, the leather of her jacket creaking a bit.

She... didn't seem to be relaxing very much. Angel... Watchers... Faith. It was a whole big pot of things that wig her out a little bit, and her anxiety was probably visible. When Glamorgan starts rattling off what he knows, well, Buffy's lips purse a bit and her attention flickers towards him. "And I thought Wesley was bad," she says.

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Dean saying what he does causes her eyes to go his way. "The Powers That Be need us - Slayers, witches... hunters?" she says, a question in her voice as she looks towards Dean. And the rest of the Angel Investigation team. "...to stop another end of the world. I don't think we have any choice *but* to fight on, right?" Fred's last thing she says, "He's a Watcher. It's their business to snoop and know *everything*."

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Gunn is making sure that the tacos on the table are getting taken care of. He's even made sure to slide a couple near Fred's seat. He's in the middle fo pouring on way too much hot and fiery sauce on his when he realizes there's a chance for him to make a comment about everything that's being said.

"They forgot my truck."

The Powers That BE FORGETTIN', apparently. Hmph.

To Dean, Castiel says, simply, "That is essentially correct, yes. You may also choose to regard it as a courtesy warning or dire portent." To Wyatt, he nods. "Correct, that is one of the landmarks that was deemed important to relocate." He turns then to Lord Glamorgan, giving a mild shrug. "The power of Heaven is vast. Certainly you have read at least some of the popular literature, given your academic background?" He shakes his head, though, and says, "I'm afraid that we do not have full accounts of the rituals. They have been most carefully concealed from Heaven's Eyes. However, I can tell you this: There is no Hellmouth in Beacon Hills. In addition, none of these sites have involved Hellmouths... unless, perhaps, the end goal is to raise a great multitude of them at once."

To Fred, he nods and says, "Your accounting is essentially accurate, yes." At Gunn's mention of the truck, Castiel frowns. "That would be because your truck apparently lacks mystical significance. However, if it is imperative that you have it, I will look to obtaining it for you." Then, turning to Buffy, he gives another slow nod. "Because of the nature of the cosmic balance, Divine Plan, and other... factors... Heaven is limited in its capacity to act. However, it is hoped that by sharing this information with proved Champions, such as yourselves, we may be able to avert an Apocalyptic level event." A beat, and he adds casually, "With which several of you are already familiar."

"Yeah? Well y'know, what exactly in the hell have the 'Powers That Be' ever done for me? Oh, yeah, I remember now. Sat around with their thumbs up their asses while my brother and I got to watch our mom pinned to the ceiling and burned alive. Then we got a fantastic upbringing from our super dad that involved a lotta lonely nights in motel rooms in bumfuck nowhere." Dean sits back in his chair, reaching for his beer and taking a mouthful of it. He smacks his lips appreciatively, turning to Fred and breaking into a grin again. "Ah, okay. I get'cha. Winnie. That's cute. Yeah, his name's Sam but I call him Sammy. I mean, he protested for a *while*, but he got over it." Whatever's going on, he either hasn't been adequately motivated or chooses to focus on the more immediate reward of sharing chips with a hot woman. Small, but important victories; that's what makes life worth living.

Wyatt Halliwell blinks, looking to Fred, "Oh, you're from the hotel? You actually live in a hotel?" He grins, "That must be so cool." Buffy's speech has him nodding emphatically, "We gotta help!" He looks to Dean and says, "Helping people, that's what it's about. They're just warning us, not telling us to do anything. But, we gotta do something."

Lord Glamorgan flips a few more pages, then begins scribbling with a fountain pen. Nodding to Buffy, he says to Fred, "Her assessment is essentially correct, though I wouldn't use those precise words. So. Another apocalyptic event is on the horizon, and those present have been selected by the Powers That Be to thwart whatever nefarious intentions are...er...intended. This gathering includes, so far, two angels, two Slayers, a Hunter, two support individuals, and a Watcher." He looks up from his notes. "And the young man we met in Beacon Hills a few nights ago, Mister Stilinski. How does he fit into all of this?"

At Buffy's reply, Fred frowns. "A Watcher?" She's heard that term before, it sounds very familiar. However, while she knows much about Wesley, she still doesn't know his former profession. Without a Slayer on the team it has yet to really come up. "That's pretty nosy, doncha think?" Plucking one of the tacos from Gunn's plate, she starts piling on her own toppings, too. "Yes, does that mean we can't even *go* to LA. Because Charles' truck is there. And I think Angel will be upset that his car didn't come with us."

Listening to Castiel, she nods, looking up from her taco with a smile. "Oh, I wasn't counting. But, if even an angel doesn't know what's going on, I figure that means it's going to take a lot of research hours." Dean's outburst is met with a frown, she opens her mouth to tell him what the Powers gave her, but instead he's talking about his brother again and she adds. "Sammy's a nice name. Not horse-like at all." The last thing she needs is to think about Pylea again, so for now she'll let the subject drop.

Wyatt is given a bit of a grin. "I do. I mean, it's a pretty old hotel, but it's home." Glamorgan is given a raised eyebrow and then she looks to Buffy again, unable to help from adding wtih a grin, "He really does stick his nose places, doesn't he?"

Gunn takes a moment to finish chewing before he turns his attention to the Castiel person. He's actually flattered that Fred is backing him up on this whole truck issue. But there's a reason he was looking at this Castiel person angel thing. "Say. Does this mean we get special weapons? Like a flamethrower? I like those." Leave it to Gunn to try and figure out how to get free weapons out of this deal.

"It's what Watcher's do. It's kinda their thing," says Buffy to Wyatt. "You can get annoyed by it, or think of it like a little puppy who is always sticking their noses into things. And I like puppies, so I'm gonna go with that," she says, kinda setting a hand on her hip and lifting her chin somewhat.

"*Two* angels?" says Buffy, her brow furrowing. A beat, and she points at Fred, kinda narrowing her eyes at her--and then kinda drifts her finger to point at Dean, her expression twisting more at that. "You got me--who's the second one?" she asks.

Castiel gives Dean an apologetic look, though it really fails to capture the seriousness of his accusation at all. He looks heartened by Wyatt's response, though, and nods. "Yes. Precisely. It is... entirely up to you all if you choose to act, but... it was deemed that I deliver this message." At Glamorgan's question, Castiel raises an eyebrow. "I'm afraid that name doesn't mean anything to me... other than that Beacon Hills may be a target for future rituals. It represents a recently emerged focal point of great mystical power." He tilts his heat at Gunn, looking thoughtful, and suggests, "I believe Dean can help you with that. His arsenal has always been... impressive."

He rises then and says, "I will leave you all to discuss this matter. If you have need of me, know that Wyatt can always directly reach me. And... as well... Heaven hears your prayers." He seems almost uncomfortable saying that, pointedly avoiding looking at Dean. He adds, "You may find something in Beacon Hills. You may not. But, it's one possibility." And then, without any visual effect or fanfare, he's quite abruptly gone, leaving only the distant sound of fluttering wings in his wake.

"Right?" Dean chuckles to Fred, finishing his last taco and concentrating on his beer. He gives Castiel a *look* -- and it's not really so much a glance or a glare per se as it is a meaningful look. Someone, it would seem, is less than convinced. He does purse his lips at Wyatt. "Why don't *they* do somethin'? Last time I checked, I wasn't equipped for hitting up something that can move cities like legos from one side of the continent to the other." This is all getting annoying. And he was enjoying the meal so much, but then he does like pretty much anything to eat that isn't strictly health food. Or even health food, as long as nobody tells him it is. It's all about the presentation. "Okay. Well. That's about my cue." He pushes up from his table, setting down the empty bottle of beer and putting down the twenty and a few more singles. A good tipper, at least. "Maybe I'll see you around, Fred. Looks like we run in some'a the same circles." To be fair, he's still not too happy about Sam going back on his own. To say nothing of their father. He ambles out in his bow-legged gait, out the door and to his car.

Wyatt Halliwell looks up to Buffy and raises his hand. "Half angel, actually. Half witch, too." He looks to Dean, biting his lip as the man wanders off, and then looks back to the others. "Well, *I'll* help however I can."

Lord Glamorgan is a bit taken aback by Castiel's sudden departure, frowning a bit as he looks around. "Curious," he murmurs, scribbling another note. His eyes widen when Dean stands and heads out as well, gaze following him to the door. Capping his pen and pocketing it and the notebook, he glances at those who remain. "Well. That was interesting, wasn't it? I really should begin writing my report for the Council. If any of you wish to reach me...." He takes several business cards from his pocket, leaving them on the table.