"It's...its God."
Cas strained his eyes trying to make out the face of the figure standing in the beam of light. His Grace beat around like the wings of a butterfly or bird. He felt it's best burning at him, as if trying to burst through his chest to reach this high power. He felt Asmodei try and shove him down to his knees as the light faded but he refused to bow down.
"Cas," hissed his brother. "What are you-?"
"I will not bow to him," Cas murmured testily. He stared hard into the fading light until it completely disappeared. What he saw then made his breath catch. "Chuck?"
The prophet, the dirty, unorganized, drunken, prophet whom Cas had stood against an Archangel for, was God? Cas couldn't believe his eyes. Chuck, erm, God, looked the same as He had years ago. Bags under His eyes, half beard, even the tired look to His face. He looked so...human, so normal.
"Ah, Asmodei," He greeted, ignoring Cas. "My child, how are you?"
Cas would have laughed at the expression on his brothers face had he not been so mad at his Father. Asmodei looked absolutely star struck. "Father," he managed. "I...I am well."
"Good to hear, good to hear," God said good-naturedly. "Please, my son, rise."
Asmodei clambered to his feet. Cas suppressed a grin. "Father..." he began. "I am sorry for all of my sins. May I be forgiven?"
"My son," God said softly, pressing a hand to the taller vessels cheek. "Of course. You were forgiven the moment you agreed to help save Dean Winchester."
"Thank you Father."
God turned to Cas. "Nothing to say to me then?"
Cas's lips pursed in a tight white line. "I have nothing to say to the monster who slaughtered millions endlessly."
"You have questions son," God said, his eyes soft. "Please, ask away."
Cas didn't seem to have a choice in the matter, the words seemed to explode from his lips. "Okay God, answer me this. Why Sam and Dean?" he asked angrily. "When will their suffering end?"
"Please," God said, averting his eyes. "Call me Chuck, Castiel."
"Of course Chuck. And call me Cas."
"Alright Cas. Your question about Sam and Dean, why I chose them to be vessels. The answer is simple. They were there and it had to be brothers with a father or mother who knew about what's out there. They simply fit the template. There was nothing special about them when I chose them, it's what they have done that make them special. And look at them now, Dean's the best Hunter on the planet, Sam's the fuel, the reason Dean fights, the second best."
"And me?" Cas asked, oblivious to Asmodei's silent watching. "Why did I come in? Am I flawed like the Angels say I am?"
Chuck laughed. "Oh son, oh no. I built you specially, I loved Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, and Gabriel, believe me, I do. But you, Cas, you I made for two purposes. One, to love Humanity, two, to pull Dean Winchester out of Hell. I dunno entirely what happened but I know you blew away all my expectations. You fell in love with Humanity, you have been touched as no other Angel has been by the beauty of Humanity. And Asmodei, you loved Esmerelda, I know that but you too where essential. The first Angel to know love and loss."
Cas felt his throat close up. "So I'm not broken?"
"Oh," Chuck said, putting a hand on Cas's cheek. "Oh make no mistake, you are completely and utterly broken but not in the way the Angels think you are. You are a creature of broken beauty because you love so much, because you are so human."
"That doesn't matter now," Cas whispered, closing his eyes. "I'm dead."
Chuck arched an eyebrow. "Are you? Well, I planned on giving you one wish. I owe you it, it can be anything you want."
Can I go back? was the first question Cas thought of but his heart protested. If he went back he would surely cause the Winchesters more pain. "Is it possible," he began unsurely. "To go back in time and have a different Angel pull Dean out of Hell?"
Asmodei let out a hitched breath. "Cassie," he whispered. "Why would you want that?"
"No me means no letting Sam out when he detoxed from Demon blood, it means so Purgatory, no leviathan, Bobby survives, not much happens. They're safer." The words pulled and ripped at his heart but Cas knew them to be true.
Chuck sighed. "I knew I should never have invented self hatred. Look, I'm gonna show you Dean right now. It's been almost three days since you died." He snapped his fingers.
Cas was standing in a room he recognized as Dean's bedroom in the bunker. The Hunter was sitting on the edge of his bed, looking pale and worn and thin. He was holding something but from the angle that Cas stood at he couldn't see what.
"Dean?" came Sam's voice from outside the door. "I made some food, I'm coming in."
Cas felt an odd feeling of relief mixed with almost selfishness. Sam was taking care of Dean, making sure that he would be alright and Cas was grateful for that but he couldn't shake the irrational selfishness because Cas was always there, it was Cas's job to keep Dean safe, to keep him human. He shook off the feeling with difficulty and focused his attention on the brothers.
Sam didn't look well either, he seemed tired, his movements almost sluggish, eyes dark and heavy. In his left hand he was holding a plate with some eggs and toast, which he set on the nightstand. "Hey Dean," he murmmered. "How are you?"
Dean turned to face him. Cas could now see that the thing he had held in his arms was the trench coat, bloodied, ratty, but still his trench coat. "I'm good Sammy," he said softly. "How are you?"
Sam narrowed his eyes, detecting bullshit. "I'm fine, I just..."
"What?" Dean asked. "You just...what? Do you need something?"
Sam sighed and shook his head. "Nothing Dean."
"What?" Dean persisted, and Cas, having witnessed this mother-henning first hand on multiple occasions, knew it was Dean distracting himself from his problems with others.
Sam seemed to deflate. "I mean, we haven't told Jodie, Alex, or Claire yet. We will need too."
"Can we wait a little?" Dean asked and when Sam nodded he said, "now tell me what you were gonna say. Now Sammy."
Defeated, Sam looked away. "I just need...I dunno. I just need you to keep it together, okay? I mean, I get what's happening, I know grief, and I know it's selfish of me to ask this of you but can you please hold it together Dean? I don't know what I'd do if you break."
Cas turned away, running a hand over his face, wanting to run to Sam and Dean to tell them he was alright, tell them not to mourn him. He wanted to go back but after everything bed done, did he really deserve that luxury? But then again, after all he'd done did he really have a right to deny a chance to help the Winchesters? He sighed and turned back to them.
"I will," Dean was promising. "It hard Sammy, but if it helps you, I swear on my life I will. I'm alright."
Sam shook his head. "Can we cut the bull crap Dean? You aren't alright but you can't do anything stupid, don't make a deal, don't leave me, don't shut yourself away...don't," his voice was suddenly small and childlike. "Don't kill yourself." Cas felt his breath hitch. Had Dean thought of killing himself before?
"I told you," Chuck said.
Cas looked around, startled. He was standing in the white light again, Asmodei and Chuck watching him. Chuck with an expression of pity, Asmodei with one of sadness. "Oh Cas," his brother murmured. "Go back."
Cas's heart ached to go back, to just stand in their presence now would be more than of an honor to be handpicked by God Himself. But he shook his head. "I want them to be done," he whispered, forcing the words out. "Amara was the last thing they killed, the last Big Bad, maybe they can have a few little cases here and there, but there's nothing else coming. No Apocalypse, no new evil, Dean has a home, Sam becomes a Man of Letters. That's my one wish."
"They will miss you still," Chuck said softly. "That is something I will not take away."
Cas wanted to protest, beg Chuck to erase their memories of him, but he didn't. "Thank you Father," he whispered.
AN: Oh my Chuck I wanted a God/Cas talk so much! Cas needs to have that, imagine how much it would help his self-hatred. Oh well, hope you enjoy thanks for reading
