A/N: One of my least favorite things about being a Supernatural fan is when the writers drop the ball on continuity or character development, or really just ignore opportunities for fantastic scenes. But, one of my favorite things about being a Supernatural fanfiction writer is writing those scenes.

This story takes place toward the end of episode 11x23, "Alpha and Omega". To catch up everyone who didn't spend part of their day re-watching the last three episodes of the season: Cas, Sam, Dean, Rowena, Crowley, Chuck and Lucifer have failed to vanquish Amara. Chuck is dying and Plan B is to create a soul bomb and put it into Dean so he can destroy Amara once and for all.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

Dean had insisted on going to Sioux Falls and Lawrence. Bobby Singer's ashes had been buried with his wife's in St. Anthony's Cemetery. Sam and Dean had even added a second gravestone a couple years back. Castiel stood off to the side with the rest of their unlikely allies. As Dean had told them only moments ago, this was the first stop on his farewell tour.

It was only after Dean and Sam had gone to the grave site that Castiel saw his father double over in pain, perhaps for the third time in as many hours.

Gently, Castiel reached for Chuck's sleeve.

"You should sit down," he said softly. "I saw a bench, just down the hill."

"Thank you", his father replied.

Ignoring the curious stares from Crowley and Rowena, Castiel lead Chuck down the paved path to a bench near a statue of the Crucifixion.

"I just need a minute," Chuck said as he sank onto the cold cement.

"Sam and Dean will take their time," Castiel replied, sitting down next to him. "Bobby Singer meant a lot to them."

Chuck didn't reply, and Castiel tried to ignore the increasingly awkward silence. He hadn't had a chance to talk to his father alone. Ever. And, now that the time had come, he was surprised to find he had very little to say.

Finally, in an effort to make some form of conversation with the being who had created him, Castiel spoke.

"Will you be able to get all of us to Lawrence and then transport Dean to Amara?" he asked.

Chuck shook his head, not as if to give a negative answer, but more to reject the premise of the question.

"Transportation is about as difficult as breathing." He coughed slightly. "Which is admittedly-" he muffled another cough- "more difficult at the moment, but to be honest, I could bend space-time while catatonic."

He gave Castiel a rueful smile.

"I don't mean to brag," he added. Then he looked at Castiel more seriously.

"Is there anything you want to ask me, Castiel?" he inquired. "I don't want to be too morbid, but this…could be your last chance.

Castiel gazed at the dying sun, at his friends standing over the two grave stones, and then back to his father.

"I've been thinking about our plan to destroy Amara," he began slowly, "I think there is a way to save Dean, but I need your help."

"Castiel-" Chuck interrupted, but now that Castiel had started, he couldn't stop.

"I could take the bomb," he said earnestly. "I won't be able to get close to the Darkness on my own, but I can go with Dean. And then, after she approaches us, you can bring Dean back, and I can detonate the bomb."

He turned to his father, ignoring the pained expression on Chuck's face.

"The world would be saved," Castiel promised, "But so would Dean."

His father looked at him with sorrow, and he placed his hand over Castiel's before he replied.

"I'm sorry, Castiel. I can't."

It was as if he had been drenched in arctic waters. Castiel wrenched his hand away. He bolted from the bench and turned to face his father.

"Of course you can," he croaked.

Chuck shook his head sadly.

"Castiel, Dean has agreed to this. He is the one who will vanquish the Darkness. It will be an honorable-"

"There is nothing honorable about death!" Castiel cried. "Dean has given more than enough! He and Sam have saved hundreds- thousands- of lives! They have saved the world and they have suffered and they have fought. They do not deserve to die needlessly, not when there's a way-"

"I won't sacrifice you," Chuck interrupted firmly. "Castiel, I can't lose you."

"But you can stand to lose Dean?" Castiel exclaimed. "All those souls from the veil?

Chuck straightened slightly on the bench and looked Castiel in the eye.

"They are not my children," he replied.

Whatever argument Castiel had been about to make died on his lips. Jimmy Novak's heart leaped in his chest. He felt his eyes widen, his breath quicken. He took two more steps backward, then a third.

All the while, Chuck regarded Castiel patiently, as if he was trying to teach a very difficult and very important lesson.

Finally, Castiel found his words, but when he opened his mouth, a strangled sob escaped.

"I met you yesterday," he finally managed. "I prayed and I sought your wisdom, and I searched the universe for you." Castiel absently placed a hand to his temple. He willed the tears in his eyes to disappear.

"I needed you so badly," he whispered. "So many times in my long life. Angels died, my brothers and sisters died, because I couldn't find you."

When Castiel's voice cracked, the tears began to fall. He furiously wiped one from his left cheek, only to feel it be replaced a second later.

"But you were never there," he continued. "You were never a father to me, you never even spoke to me."

Castiel gave up trying to clear his face. His arm fell to his side, and through his tears, he addressed his father.

"But now, after four thousand years, now you call me son."

"Castiel-"

Chuck rose from the bench and instinctively Castiel shook his head and took a step backward. Instead of reaching toward him, his father gave a soft, heartbroken sigh and settled back into his seat.

"I- Castiel, I love you," He doubled over and coughed once before continuing.

"Each grace, each angel is unique. Heaven may have made you think otherwise, but there is a distinct spark within every one of you. I have resurrected you over these past years, because even more than you brothers and sisters, you are special. I didn't expect your faith, your love, your loyalty-" his father gave him a small smile- "your stubbornness. I didn't see any of that when I created you. The devastation that bomb would do to you- it would destroy you so completely- I could never recreate that. I could never recreate you."

Castiel began pacing.

"So you keep me alive because I am such a rarity in your collection-"

Chuck met Castiel's eyes.

"You are my son," he corrected, then he paused. "And I don't mean to be unkind," he continued slowly, "but the average human lifespan is 78 years, and..." Chuck's face looked so pitying, Castiel wanted to run away.

"…and we both know that Sam and Dean Winchester will never come close to that age."

Castiel shook his head and refused to meet his father's eyes. His tears continued to flow freely. He didn't want to think about this; the world was dying and he didn't need to be reminded of his friend's mortality. Not now. Not until they were both burned on a hunter's pyre.

"Castiel," Chucked leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

"Castiel," he repeated. "You have an eternity ahead of you. You have so much more to see and do, so much more to experience."

Finally, Castiel found his voice.

"I don't need to- experience- all of creation," he argued. "I am a warrior and my mission is to protect humanity, including Dean, and-"

"You are a warrior," Chuck agreed, "But you are so much more than that. You are humanity's guardian, their advocate, their champion. Even after we defeat Amara, after I die- evil will still exist in this world. There will be more battles, more wars. Sam and Dean are not the only humans who will ever be called to fight those forces. Those humans will need you too."

Castiel shook his head.

"I don't have a destiny," he retorted angrily. "I- I may have made many mistakes in my life, but in nearly the decade since I met the Winchesters, I have been the one to determine my fate. You champion free will for the humans, yet you, you expect me to be your tool- your instrument- to bring about the change you wish to see in the world."

He straightened his back and looked resolutely at his father.

"I am not your soldier," he declared.

Chuck sat up straight once more and regarded his son.

"And I am not John Winchester," he whispered.

Castiel discovered that his voice was steady again. He gazed down at his father's haggard face and nodded.

"No, you are not. I've seen John Winchester," he paused and look towards his friends, still standing at Bobby and Karen Singer's graves.

"The first time Sam died," he said slowly, "he went to Heaven. We downloaded his memories. I've studied them- and Dean's. John Winchester was many things, but he loved his sons. He adored them. They weren't tools. They weren't variables, or… chess pieces to be maneuvered."

Castiel turned back to his father.

"Sam and Dean were John Winchester's whole world."

A long pause followed those words. Castiel locked eyes with his father, waiting, hoping, until finally, Chuck softly gave his reply.

"I didn't have that luxury."

Castiel wiped the last tears from his eyes and looked back at the dying sun.

"I know," he said, this time his words held no malice.

"But if this is the final days of the planet, of the species, of,"- here his voice broke yet again- "of the Winchesters. I can't just sit by and let it happen."

Castiel collapsed to the ground at Chuck's feet and, just as so many of his brothers and sisters had done before him, he knelt before the Lord.

"Please father," he begged. "If you consider me your son- your family. Please help me save mine."

The only sounds were the birds in the trees and the cars driving down the road a couple yards away. Castiel gazed imploringly at his father. Praying to him in his mind, pleading.

Chuck placed his hand to Castiel's head and opened his mouth to respond-

"Oi! You lot! Family reunion is over! Squirrel here says now we're headed back to Kansas, and since the big cheese is the only one with the mojo to teleport these days, we would really appreciate it if you came back to the pack!

At Crowley's barking, Castiel wiped his eyes and quickly stood up from the ground. He fruitlessly brushed at the new grass stains on his slacks and he turned his back on Chuck. But, even as he made his way up the hill, he heard his father's whispered reply.

"I can't do it, son."

A/N: Because this has only been part of Cass's character development since Season Five! After everything he's been through, how do you not put in at least one scene between him and-

You know what, no, not going to do this rant in an author's note.

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