Chapter 6.
"I'm hungry." said Chuck, "Get me some pizza." He saw Cas's expression and added a reluctant, "Please."
" You're perfectly capable of feeding yourself." said Cas.
"I don't have any food." said Chuck, "Just order me a pizza."
"What happened to the groceries I brought you last time?"
Chuck shrugged and gave a little grin that ma de Cas want to punch him. Instead, he went to the kitchenette and opened the refrigerator The air that came from it was stale and unclean. There was beer inside and something that had once been cheese. "This us disgusting." he said.
"I know." said Chuck, "Pizza would be easier."
Cas didn't bother to discuss it. He flew straight to a convenience store and gathered some food items. He deliberately chose things Chuck would not enjoy too much. He wouldn't let him starve, but he wasn't about to reward his idleness. When he shopped for the Winchesters, it was an act of love. This was more of an act of penance.
He paid for the food and returned to the apartment. "Clean the refrigerator and I'll make you a cheese omelette." he said.
"I'm not good at cleaning."
"You weren't good at ruling. It's not a request. Clean it, or you can cook your own food."
Chuck pushed him urgently aside. "Fine, I can cook." he said, grabbing a freshly cleaned skillet.
"You'll get sick if you keep food in that obscenity." said Cas.
"I don't care."
He didn't. Sickness would give him an excuse for a day off work. Cas sighed and set to work. It was some consolation to notice that Chuck was not making as good a job of the omelette as he would have done. Dean had taught him. He would have cooked it in butter.
"You'll be at work tomorrow." said Cas.
"Sweeping the street?"
"There's nothing wrong with honest labour."
"It's boring and menial and it stinks."
"You clearly don't care about bad smells." said Cas, with a contemptuous wave to the fridge.
"You chose that job to humiliate me."
"I chose it because it offered a chance for reflection and a chance to be useful to this world you have wronged."
"Created."
"Created and then wronged."
"You can't wrong what belongs to you. This world and everything in it were my Playthings, mine to do anything I wanted."
Cas straightened up, wiping his hands on a cloth he would not usually have wanted to touch, "You're still not getting it. This world ceased to be yours when you added life to it. What lives must have free will."
Chuck slammed the skillet onto the counter, fury on his face. "I decide that, not you!"
"I know what the soul is now." said Cas, "It's life, expressing itself in love."
"And which Hallmark card did you steal that limp philosophy from?"
"Do your job, breathe the air ..."
"In St Louis? It's polluted!"
"And whose fault is that? This world could have been a Paradise. It will be."
"With that child in charge? Wait until he hits puberty. He'll be demanding tributes of virgins. He'll rain fire on the world just to smell it sizzle."
"He won't. He's not like you."
"There was a time you wouldn't have dared to speak to me like that."
Cas knew he was supposed to feel shame, to apologise, but he was determined not to give Chuck the satisfaction. "I am no longer a slave." he said.
"Because you grovel at the Winchesters' feet and not mine?"
"You're angry. No, you're jealous. You wanted them to love you and they never did. They never will."
"You think I care?"
"Of course you care." said Cas, wondering if he should be enjoying this so much, "You made Dean into your ideal, strong, brave, intelligent, all so he could love you with all that fierce will. You didn't even try to be worthy of his love. It never entered your head that he would despise you, that he would hate how you treat people. You made your perfect nan and he didn't want you."
"You don't know anything." said Chuck bitterly, "I created the Winchesters to challenge me."
"Well, congratulations. They did and they won."
There was an awkward silence, during which Cas returned to his cleaning and Chuck tipped his now rubbery omelette onto a plate. He slouched through to the couch. As watched him slump down onto it and poke at the food with fork.
"You have to work." said Cas, "If you don't, you'll have no money and I'm not going to keep buying you food."
"Maybe I'll starve." said Chuck.
"Maybe you will." said Cas, "That would entertain Sam and Dean, hearing that you died of an inability to handle the basics of life."
"What am I living for anyway?" said Chuck, "I don't see anyone but you."
"If you'd work your job, you'd make friends. Your supervisor is an interesting man."
"You find them all interesting."
"So did you, once, before you got fixated on making two of them play your stupid game."
Another long silence. Cas finished the cleaning and put the groceries away. When he returned to Chuck, her found the ex-deity had finished his meal.
"How much do they know?" said Chuck, quieter now.
"Nothing. Nor do they care."
"You never report back?"
"No."
"They really never ask?"
"No." said Cas. There was no good reason to tell him they had no idea he was still checking on Chuck. He asked about them every time and Cas knew he would love to be able to see them again, but not for any good reason, not to apologise.
"You could bring them with you. If Dean won't come, you could bring Sam. He was always more forgiving."
"Neither of them feels any need to forgive you."
"I made their lives epic!" said Chuck, raising his voice again.
"You brought them pain and grief and horrors they should never have borne."
"And neither you nor anyone else would have cared a fig for the people they would have been without the arc I gave them."
"You're wrong." said Cas.
"You know I'm not."
"If you had trusted them, they'd have made a better story than the one you gave them."
"They'd have lived mediocre lives, had kids and mortgages and died aged sixty-six of bad food and liquor."
"I don't want to discuss them with you." said Cas, "You will be at work tomorrow."
"What if I'm not?"
"Then I stop coming to see you. I leave you to starve and decay. If you're not trying, why should I care?"
"Because you were created to care about me and you can't help it." Years ago, the word of God would have convinced him utterly, but on this occasion, even God wasn't sure of what he was saying. There was a fear in his eyes that Cas really would walk away and whatever he said, he was afraid to be entirely alone in these hostile surroundings.
"Keep telling yourself that." said Cas.
"I will go to work if you promise to bring Sam next time."
"No. I will never let you near him again."
"He may want to see me."
"He doesn't."
"Ask him."
"You need to move on from them. This human life could be good. You could make something of it. Apply yourself to your work, as a penance. Learn humanity. Learn to appreciate this incredible thing that you made."
"How can you love the creation and despise the Creator?"
"How can you create all this and not care about it?" said Cas. He felt the weight of disappointment on his chest. There was shame too and guilt. The guilt was twofold, the built-in guilt of an angel who was now against his Creator and the personal guilt, that he still felt loyalty and compassion for this being who had hurt and repeatedly killed everyone he loved.
He walked to the door. "I will speak to your supervisor tomorrow."
Chuck scowled at him. "I'll do another day of menial work, but I deserve better."
"You deserve nothing." said Cas.
He exited the apartment and went to get some coffee. He needed to compose himself before he went home. He didn't want anyone but Jules and Jack to know where he had been and he didn't want even those two to know how it had hurt him.