The garden is familiar, and well-tended in his absence. At some kind of peace for once, He wanders through it, fingering an acacia here or there, pausing to run a hand up and down one of His trees. Really, He could do away with this form now. There's no one here to be overwhelmed if He appears as someone other than the prophet, Chuck.

But He likes this body. It lacks the size and extensive crafting that He gave to Sam's or Dean's, or even their father's, but it's homey and it has access to many things he usually doesn't get to experience. Drunkenness, for one thing, was particularly entertaining when he was trying to avoid the glimpses of His own Plan that interjected themselves into his lie of being a normal man — if an inspired prophet.

He liked Becky, too. That's another thing He misses when He isn't in this body, gently lifting an azalea toward the sunlight — He misses love. His humans feel it differently than He does. Without a physical form, He can think on love, and ruminate on it, and determine what it is philosophically, but He can't really feel it, not without the lungs and stomach to writhe when it dawns on Him, or the heart to flutter every time Becky smiled at Him instead of at Sam.

She's bearing a terrible burden now, Becky. Dean was right, when he accused Him of having a "virgin/hooker thing," and as the most recent virgin in which He took an interest, she has a role to play, in the future that Sam and Dean made so many sacrifices for. But unlike her predecessor, she has no Joseph ben David to help her. Sooner or later, He'll need to bring Gabriel back to tell her about it, but He'd rather do so Himself. As His heart sinks, He tears the flower off its stem and hurls it at the ground.

A wind blows through; He sighs. Turning to face them, He smiles at Joshua and Castiel; they're taking His example and assuming more tangible forms. Neither looks particularly pleased, but, then again, neither looks particularly displeased. If anything, Castiel looks more at home in Jimmy Novak's body than in any other form He has seen His angel in before. A good bit of planning on His part.

"I appreciate the effort," He says evenly. "You've done well. Both of you. The… the cleaning up you had to do with the Cherubim in the Third Sphere was particularly ambitious, Castiel. I half-thought that the hugging would start getting violent. …And, you know, your work with Dean."

Castiel simply looks confused. He tilts his head, and furrows his brow, and says, "…Chuck?"

"No, no, Castiel," Joshua clarifies. "This is our Father."

"He looks like Chuck," Castiel says flatly. "I have his name… seared into my memory as Chuck Shurley. I know his parents, his grandparents, his entire lineage back to Elijah the Tishbite."

He shrugs. "I… may have planned for that."

"Was there ever a real Chuck Shurley?" Castiel asks. He's being mouthy with his Creator — something that he no doubt picked up from working in such close contact with Dean — but it's not infuriating or disrespectful, the way that Michael or Zachariah would call it. If anything, it's endearing, and He smiles accordingly.

"Yes, but—"

"Was he a Vessel? Did You possess him?" Castiel pauses, and sighs. "I'm sorry, Father; I know that I'm not supposed to question You, and I know that you only cause suffering so that people can learn from it, but… I don't understand. You could have stopped all of it."

He shrugs again, and smiles. Castiel and Joshua seem to find it inscrutable. Ineffable. "Creation needed to be reminded of a few things," He offers. "Sam and Dean needed to learn how they fit into everything, and that they can be too… easily distracted? From things of lesser importance. Lucifer needed to know what would happen if he got out. Michael needed to learn the importance of family. Several of your brothers needed to be reminded that I told you all to love humanity. …I think that you learned that very well."

A small blush turns Castiel's cheeks red, and he looks to the ground. With a shrug, he explains, "I had my orders."

"And you followed them admirably. So admirably. Totally above-and-beyond. I didn't even expect how far you went for everyone."

"What about Gabriel?" Castiel looks back up, and his expression, while not angry, is not pleased, either. "What purpose did his death serve?"

He sighs. "I didn't want to kill Gabriel, you know," he doesn't-quite-explain. "I really didn't. But apathy is just as bad as siding with Lucifer, and he never really learned the lesson about loving humanity, it was sort of like going, 'I'm not one, and I can play with them to my heart's content, but I'm sympathetic and it's wrong when Lucifer and Michael want to kill them'… Then again, he does liven things up, doesn't he?"

Before Castiel can answer, He claps His hands; Gabriel pops right up among their number, in the form he used to play a Trickster, gasping for breath. The Archangel looks around, confused, as He walks up to him. Recognition draws his lips into an anxious frown.

"…Dad?"

"You did well, Gabriel," He tells him, laying a hand on his head. "But you still have a lot to learn."

With a pop, Gabriel disappears again. Castiel wrinkles his nose. "Father, where did you send him?"

He shrugs. "The Mystery Spot. He… oh, it's — it's this place in Colorado, right? He and Sam sort of had an episode there… Gabriel was trying to teach Sam a lesson about not trying to get Dean out of his crossroads deal, and they sort of had this Groundhog Day thing going on, and…" He pauses. Castiel, it seems, does not get the reference. "Oh. Dean never showed you… well, anyway, it's not important. He'll show up there, completely human, with a hundred bucks and a cellphone that has Sam's and Dean's numbers in them, and you…" Briefly, He considers that He should have made Chuck taller. It would make looking up into Castiel's eyes more comfortable on the neck. "What do you want, Castiel?"

Castiel blinks. "…Excuse me?"

"You've been following my orders for so long, or your brothers'… but what about you? What do you want?"

A moment passes between them in silence. Then another. Castiel shuffles and shoves his hands into his trench coat's pockets. Still looking at the ground, he says, "I… I haven't given it much thought, Father, but… now that Heaven has been put back in order, I — I would like to go back to Earth. To be with Dean. …If that's alright with You."

By way of answering his angel, He reaches up and runs a hand through Castiel's hair; he disappears with another pop. Joshua sighs and looks to Him.

"You didn't answer his other question," he points out.

He scratches at the back of His neck. "I know, but — I — it's complicated, Joshua. You know that." Joshua nods. "I mean… how do you explain to someone that sometimes, God has to forget how to be God? And that Chuck was always supposed to be an avatar… It's all a matter of consciousness, and translating it all into more tangible terms… And then there's how long I've been here, and all the loneliness, I mean… You've met Death. Can you seriously imagine how long he and I were just here alone together? Talking about nothing?"

"I know you want to go back, Father," Joshua says. Some shade of regret lines his smile. "And I know you love her like you did my mother. It's not wrong."

He sighs. "Hey… when I get back this time, you'll have a new baby brother."

Joshua lays a hand on His head now and says, "I look forward to it."

Chuck wakes up with his head on the desk, like always. At least, he supposes, he's not in a puddle of his own vomit or anything. Head throbbing, he picks up the phone and texts Becky: "I could swear I did coke with Jesus last night"

He sets it on the table, and stares at it intently until the response makes it buzz.