Notes: Last Chapter! I hope you guys like hurt/comfort, cause the next episode is dripping with it XD I'll be sure to post it sometime tomorrow for all of you. It's title will be "It Took Everything".
Andaere: Here are some imaginary kittens, puppies and rainbows to ease the pain. D'X I had to hug my guinea pig after I wrote this chapter.
chaoswalking: Yes, momentary idiocy is a tragic disease that I have been suffering through since early childhood. I thought that by adding it to my story it would help raise awareness. I do hope that if you suffer from this condition, you seek professional help immediately. JK! this disease provides far too much entertainment for my friends. I shall suffer from it if only to make them happy =)
And to my lovely lyricist west189, I have added something in this chapter just for you . Hearts and Hugs! And might I say that you have a lovely typing voice XD
Disclaimer: Daily reminder- I own nothing.
Warnings: This story contains religious themes and undertones throughout the whole story. No offense is meant. It is simply one single view/opinion that someone may have. It doesn't necessarily have to be the authors actual opinion, so if possible I would like to ask for no flames and if you are truly offended then feel free to private message me to share your thoughts and you can skip this story.
CHAPTER 10
He threw himself to the ground at Becky's side, turning her still form over so that he could see. He only had enough time for her dead eyes to register before he heard a second crack of gunfire.
Lucas had raised his gun a second time it seemed, not at all deterred since hitting Becky and aimed at Chuck again, but before he could get another shot off he was stopped, literally dead in his tracks as a bullet streamed through his skull courtesy of Sam Winchester's gun.
Dean and the rest of the crew ran forward to crouch by Chuck and the fallen girl. All eyes turned to Cas as Chuck silently begged him to fix this.
An intense look of concentration creased over Castiel's brow as he bent forward and placed a hand on her chest and he closed his eyes. All of the others, the town folk and crew waited with their breath held as Castiel worked. The town people may not have known anything about Cas, but they somehow picked up on the crew's impatience for the young man's assessment as if sensing his other-worldliness.
He held still, half crouched over her for a very long minute before his frown deepened. He leaned down lower, touching his forehead to hers. He held her there for a long while. It wasn't until Dean heard the stuttered whimper from Cas that he leaned down to catch his gaze.
There were tears pouring down both sides of his face once Dean was at an angle to see. Then he was easily able to pick up on the tremors running through the other man's smaller frame as his breath hitched.
"Cas?" He tried gently.
Sorrowful blue eyes turned up to look at the Captain, his tears reflecting in the sun for the whole town to see.
Cas opened his mouth to speak, but it seemed like he couldn't make a sound. Instead his face crumpled in defeat and he mouthed the words, "I'm so sorry." Before burying his head in Dean's shoulder.
The crowd around them gasped at the despair clear on the young man's face. They knew what it meant. Becky was gone. All around hats were removed and soft cries could be heard spreading over the mass.
Dean gently moved a trembling Castiel away from the girl as Bobby pushed in to take their place, starting the prayer for the dead before he even got close to her.
Chuck's world was crumbling around him.
"No. Get up. Please. You can't…why would you do that? What's wrong with you? Didn't you hear a word he said?" He was beyond tears at this point. He had gone completely numb as he looked down at Becky's face, frozen in death. It was so wrong. He had never met someone with so much life in them before. How could that much life be snuffed out so quickly? What a waste. So much waste…
Gently Chuck moved her from his lap and positioned her on the ground, taking time to move her bangs back in place before he rose up before the crowd.
"This is not what I wanted," he whispered, then louder, "This is not what I wanted!"
Angrily he looked over those who would worship him, those who followed him unquestioningly.
"I never meant for this to happen. I never meant for any of you to follow my word as such mindless puppets. You say you read the books and treated them as The Word. But obviously you didn't understand a single sentence. "The basic question in our minds: Are we marionettes, or are we creatures of free will who just happen to have a lot of jerky movements?" You might have thrown away your old leader, but instead of shirking the strings that held you, you chose another puppeteer. An absent one at that. You interpreted my Word, yes. But you didn't know what I truly meant."
He spun around pointing an accusatory finger at all of them.
"My message was many things. I wanted to make all of you feel less like the animals that you were being treated as, and I wanted you to feel more human. To have free will. To realize that you had the power to break through whatever held you down. But you missed the part where I wanted you to act as humans, to care for your fellow man as a brother and you continue to act like animals. Fighting, killing… Becky died today for me. I never wanted that. I don't deserve it. My Word is nothing to die over. It was something to bask in, or perhaps go to in times of trouble. A guide. Not an example."
The crowd had become dead silent as their idol continued. They watched his anger, sorrow, and frustration grow on his face.
"It was meant to be a celebration of the beauty and limitless potential of humanity, a glimpse into the magic behind the human soul and the power behind choice and freedom. But you took my vision of free will a morphed it into something else. You used it as a reason, no, an excuse to harm others and start a war. You hurt those who thought different, just as you were hurt by those before who also thought different."
He paused to catch his breath. He hadn't even noticed that he had started crying and now it was like a vice was around his chest. He gulped in air, wincing as his throat tried to close up.
"You weren't ready for this. You were too immature to handle such a concept and the power of freedom and choice. You're still stuck in the mud, waiting for a time for you to wipe the dirt from your eyes and see what you have done here. Did you really think that one singular book by one singular man would hold all of your answers? That the Word would be infallible? Well, there is no such thing. There is no single book that holds all the answers. And there is no single human who could be so wise. We live in a sorry universe that is engineered for conflict. It's my fault for not seeing that sooner. And I am so sorry. I'm only human."
Chuck turned around and looked up at the statue that stood menacingly over the town. With a loud shout he put all his strength into it, and toppled it to the ground and watched as his image shattered at his feet.
The sullen crew boarded the ship. Bobby and Sam lead the rest back to the ship, glancing back ever few moments to see those who trailed behind. Cas and Dean were both leaning upon each other for support, Dean for his injuries, and Cas for his heavy despair. The young man was still reeling over his failure to heal Becky, and everyone could see how it was tearing him up as his pain was written all over his face.
Chuck was a different story. It was like all the emotion had been drained out of him during his breakdown back in the square, and now all that was left was an empty husk shuffling along behind the rest, not really registering anything around him.
The sadness in all of them was far too raw to even think about discussing at this moment.
Sam reached for the comm. box as soon as all were up the ramp.
"Gabe, we're on. Get us the hell off of this mud ball."
Gabriel could hear the weariness in Sam's voice as he heard the call. He was glad enough to hear that everyone was on board and there were no shouts of people who were being rushed to the infirmary, so he figured that it could wait till later.
"Uh, yeah. I'm working on it." He called back.
What he didn't tell Sam was that for the last half hour he had been frantically pushing buttons and pulling levers trying to get the ship started. On the display next to his left hand there was an alert flashing the sign for land-lock. There was no overriding this.
"Goo yong jong dun goo yang."
Then a small noise behind him alerted him to Anna's arrival in the control room. She looked a little flustered, which was weird for her.
"Hello, Gabriel. Has there been a problem with takeoff?" She asked hesitantly.
Gabriel's frustration peaked, "Is there a problem? Is there a problem?!"
Then the bright flashing next to him suddenly disappears and the land lock is released as the engines finally roar to life.
Stunned Gabriel grunts in mild satisfaction, "Huh. No. We're fine." And he goes back to his procedure of takeoff while Anna slinks off with a small smile on her painted lips.
"You did what!?"
Fess almost smiled at his father's bellowing, "I sent an override to Port Control to lift the land-lock on the Impala."
His father whirled on him, "Don't think I can't see that smirk! I ought to wipe it off of your head with a belt. How dare you defy me?!"
Casually Fess leaned back on the couch and shrugged at his father, "You wanted to make a man out of me, Dad. I guess it worked." This time his smirk showed in full glory over his face, making his father's face turn an alarming shade of purple.
With any luck the Garrison would hear about the incident here and his father would be either reassigned or fired completely. Fess didn't care at this point. Apparently the town's people had liked him all along and would love to put in a good word for him in the Garrison.
He happily daydreamed about how he could help the mud plant grow and pay the workers better…as well as a lovely red-headed woman at his side. He thought about this as his father continued to yell.
Cas had disappeared as soon as he had finished healing Dean. The Captain had assumed at first that he was just going to sleep for a while after healing him, but there was a nagging at the back of his mind telling him that he knew this wasn't entirely the case. Only two hours after the ship had taken off, Dean found that he couldn't ignore this calling.
Quietly Dean moved into the crew's dorm hallways to Castiel's "nest" as they kept calling it. He was cautious of his footfalls not wanting to wake the other man if he indeed was sleeping, but as he drew closer he heard a muffled noise. By the time he reached to hatch to the nest, he was able to identify the noises as soft sobbing.
Without even pausing to think Dean opened the hatch and jumped down the ladder. His gaze fell upon Castiel almost immediately where he was curled on his side on the bed. He could tell by the pure and utter exhaustion in Cas' face that he had not slept yet to recover from the healing.
Slowly he moved over to the bed and sat down gingerly next to the now quietly crying man, "Talk to me, Cas."
There were a few more hiccups and sniffs before Cas softly replied, "I'm so sorry that I couldn't fix her, Dean. I…sniff…I tried to find her glow, but it was already gone. You can't rekindle a flame that's already gone out." He said miserably.
Dean started to rub at Cas' back, not because he thought his back was hurting him, but because he knew that it was still a comfort to him, "It's okay, Cas. We all know you tried."
"Maybe if I were stronger…"
Dean shook his head and grabbed Castiel's face between his hands to make him look up at Dean, "Cas, you did all you could. Nobody could have saved her."
Cas glanced down guiltily, "That may not be true…I saw things at the Host. There are beings there that are barely human anymore, crafted by the hands of men. I've seen what they could do. They could have saved her I think…and I think…that perhaps if I were still at the Host I would have the capability as well. As it is…I became weak when I was cut off from them."
Dean snorted, "Cas. I've told you before. You are anything but weak. And I'd rather have you like this, more human than not."
He seemed to take some comfort in this, but the sorrow didn't leave his face and the tears still leaked out ever few moments.
"I still wish that I could have saved her, for her sake as well as Chuck's. He's swimming in a dark lake all alone. The water is so cold out there..." he confessed between sobs.
Unable to hold back and watch him in so much pain, Dean laid down next to Cas and pulled him in to his chest and buried his face in his dark tousled hair, "Shhh, its already happened and you can't fix it. You're going to have to move on like the rest of us mere mortals."
He felt Cas' nod against his chest and then felt the tremors still running down his smaller frame.
"Cas, just fall asleep. You might feel better once you get some rest."
Cas sniffed loudly, "Remember how I told you I can't have dreams? It's still true, but…I can have nightmares. They're always there…lurking, waiting for the next time I close my eyes. I'm afraid of what terrors await me behind my eyelids."
The confession near broke his heart and Dean tightened his hold. He had held Sammy like this a hundred times when they were younger and Sam had his own nightmares about any dark shadow that his young mind had conjured. There had been a trick that Dean used to use when trying to get Sam to fall asleep. Maybe it would work on Cas.
Softly he began to sing.
"Hey, Jude. Don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better. Remember to let her under your skin, then you can begin to make it better."
He felt as Cas began to relax and the tremors slowly ebbed.
"And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain. Don't carry the world upon your shoulders."
He sang even when he knew that Cas had already fallen asleep. He wanted Cas to know that he wasn't leaving and he would try his best to keep the nightmares away.
Chuck hadn't gone to dinner that night. He had stayed in the engine room working hard through the night until his hands were shaking so badly that he could no longer hold the tools. He didn't even want to fathom going to sleep at that time, so instead he ventured on to the catwalk over the hold. He had seen the Winchesters and Castiel use this spot many times as a place of reflection. Maybe this spot held some sort of magic resolving power that could set everything right in his head.
Absently he glanced at his watch, and saw that it had been almost 17 hours since Becky had been shot. The realization was almost like a slap in the face. He finally felt some sort of emotion rise again instead of the aching numbness that had frozen him earlier. He felt it well up in the back of his throat, threatening to choke him.
"It just doesn't make sense," he whispered to himself, "Why did she have to do it?"
"She chose to save you."
Chuck jumped and swiveled around to see Dean and Cas walking towards him on the catwalk, "Wha-, what are you two doing up?"
Dean shrugged, "We just woke up. Kind of fell asleep before dinner, so we're a bit on the hungry side. Thought we'd venture to the kitchen for a snack. What about you?"
"No—nothing. Just thinking, I guess."
"Thinking about what happened?"
Chuck nodded and turned back to the railing, unable to keep eye contact with Dean.
Dean and Cas moved up next to him and leaned on the railing as well, "You know it wasn't your fault? Any of that? Those people are responsible for the mess they made."
Again Chuck nodded, "Yeah, I guess I get that. Bobby said the same thing earlier. Said I might have been the fuel, but I wasn't the fire."
Suddenly Cas spoke up next to him, "He's right. There was nothing you could have done. It's not the first time people have taken a good book and used it as a weapon. Should we fault the one who makes a gun to protect, but someone else uses to kill? Or should we never make guns in the first place?"
Chuck scoffed, "If I had a choice now I would have never written the book at all."
Dean chuckled lightly, "Well that's one thought, but it was done with good intentions. And it did help a lot of people. You could never have known what would have been the right choice at the time you started writing. Really you can't even know for sure now. Just think about where all of those people would have been if they never stood up for themselves?"
Chuck tumbled this around in his head before responding, "You know, I've been wondering…about the guy who created the Garrison. I bet when he planned it, he planned on it being wonderful, a dream utopia for all men. I mean, that's what it sounded like to all of us when the idea was proposed. But now looking upon it, I wonder if he sees how his beautiful image has been twisted into something ugly and ruthless."
Dean seemed to ponder this for a moment, "I think…that every man who ever had a statue made of him was misunderstood in some way or another. It isn't about you, Chuck. It's about what they needed to believe. When it comes down to it, the origin doesn't matter, just where everything ends up. And anything in between is out of our control."
"Is it always going to end up so violently?"
Cas shrugged next to him, "Well, what would you rather? Peace, or freedom?"
They all fell quiet after that, allowing Chuck to absorb everything. Dean and Cas both knew that no amount of comforting words would magically fix this for the mechanic tonight. The trauma and guilt might never go away completely and Chuck would always think back on these last two days and feel a rock drop in his stomach and his throat clog up. They both hoped though that Chuck could at least try to find some peace in their words.
After a few minutes Dean couldn't take it anymore. There was a question that had been burning in his mind since Chuck first told him about his time on the mudder world. He thought that maybe perhaps he should wait, but the question was literally burning a hole through his skull.
"Hey, um Chuck? I have to ask, man. You said that there might be people mad at you and you had no idea about the whole book thing, so….why did you think people would be mad?"
Castiel also looked thoughtful at this and turned to the mechanic waiting for his answer. Chuck blushed and that nervous disposition that the crew new, loved, and for a few hours now had missed, came back with a vengeance. His gaze fell to his feet and he bit his lip nervously.
"Um, well..you see, I…I didn't pay my last month's rent before I left," he mumbled out quickly.
Dean couldn't hold back. He burst out laughing and had to hold tighter to the railing in front of him so as to not fall down. Castiel nodded solemnly, as if it was indeed a grave crime. But the incredulous laughter from Dean worked its charm, and soon both Chuck and Castiel were joining him. The happy noises filled the hallways of the Impala, and nobody could have been able to sense it but Cas, but the ships engines burned a little brighter.
So that last bit was my attempt at making this a little less depressing of a story. You guys have no idea how much back and forth I did with deciding on whether to kill or save Becky, but in the end I needed the death to drive the lesson home and for part of the plot in the next episode. I even got some "current events" reference in there that I also was iffy on using, but as a pseudo writer I felt that it was a good addition for scholarly purposes. I did choose to make my own views on the whole thing ambiguous (I hope I did anyway) because I know how sensitive it is to most people. Anyway! I do hope you enjoyed the last chapter and I hope to "see" y'all tomorrow when I post the next story, Impala Series: Part 8 It Took Everything
