Finally taking his eyes from Dean's, The Gentleman turns to face Bobby, and as whispery voices overlap Latin (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) on top of each other, The Gentleman gently stretches out his right hand, and Bobby collapses onto the concrete, unconscious. The Gentleman -- who looks, now that I can focus on his face, rumpled and a little bit careworn and weary, though maybe I'm projecting a little, because that face is gorgeous -- refocuses his attention on Dean and says, "We have to talk." Dean gulps. "Alone," The Gentleman explains. Dean gulps again, and his Adam's apple bobbles up and down until it's swallowed up by the final METAL TEETH CHOMP!
Dean checks Bobby's carotid for a pulse and glares up accusatorially at the intruder while The Gentleman in question stands off to the side, casually but intently riffling through the research Bobby'd brought along. "Your friend is alive," The Gentleman assures Dean, as if he could sense the question Dean was about to hurl at him, even though The Gentleman never once raised his eyes from the book he'd been reading. "Who are you?" Dean demands once more. "Castiel," comes the expected response, so Dean sneers, "I figured that much -- I mean what are you?" This question obviously puzzles Castiel, and he looks up from Bobby's book to stare at Dean for a moment before answering, "I'm an angel of the Lord," as if that were a perfectly reasonable explanation.
And I suppose I should interrupt the action at this point to note that Castiel's being played by Misha Collins -- whom many will remember from his time on 24 as one of the first-season's Evil Serbs, and whom many others will remember as Paul Bernardo from the movie Karla -- and he's an awfully good choice to play an angel whose true visage sears the eyes out of your skull because he's almost painfully good-looking (if a bit asymmetrical, which in a weird way only adds to the overall effect). They've also decked him out in a dark suit with a white shirt, along with a tie that perfectly matches the dark blue of his eyes, and they've got all of that beneath a yellowish trench, so a lot of people looked at the costume and said, "Oh, John Constantine." "But not the sucky Keanu John Constantine," they were quick to add, knowing we would think far less of them had they failed to do so. "The good one, who smokes." So, if that visual works for you, great, because although Castiel never lights up, Misha Collins is, as I believe I noted above, smokin'. The trench coat to me, though, recalls Wings Of Desire more than anything else, so there's that, too, especially because the rumpled Peter Falk of that film ends up having origins as divine as Castiel's, here, even though Peter Falk was never, ever as good-looking as Misha Collins. So, long story short, I guess what I'm saying is that it's all working for me -- the clothes, the face, the rumpled demeanor -- but what's really working for me is the hair. Why? Because his coif's been gelled and teased and worked over until it looks like he's got a mass of ruffled feathers on his head, and that is awesome. Someone needs to buy this show's hair burners a beer.