If you were faced with Him in all His glory

What would you ask if you had just one question?


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IC contact: Sirenspull
- your calls are bad news
paterelohim
Uh, hi! This is Ca- I mean Chuck Shurley, just- Chuck, sorry. [Indistinct fumbling noises] Leave a message after the beep and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks?

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[Chuck is a deer in headlights for about two seconds, then reaches out to snatch his NV away.]

No. [When he looks at the message again it's like he's seeing it with new eyes: every jab, every passive-aggressive stab and cutting remark that would have been so devastating for Sam to read. Even in his still-potent anger at the man, it strikes him as twisted that Chuck, with his intimate emotional insight into what moves and drives Sam, into his demons and innermost thoughts, should use that to know how best to hurt him.

He snaps the NV shut, tense and temporarily mollified.]


He would probably deserve it- but no.

[Castiel doesn't bother attempting to keep the NV out of reach, allowing Chuck to take it back and just watching the prophet a moment, drink forgotten on the table.

He's not sure how he feels about this. He's angry with Sam himself, and as he has been able to recognize only lately, hurt. But at the same time he was there, and he realizes that afforded him a different view of the situation than Chuck likely had. He's angry, but he almost understands.]


He wasn't himself.

[It's quiet, and out of what was, again, the protectiveness he feels for the brothers. It doesn't justify what happened, but Castiel doesn't believe Sam truly chose to do this.]

[It makes sense. On some level, Chuck knows this.]

I don't really care. Every morning when you wake up you look like a six year old who just realized that their puppy was hit by a car.

So. Yeah. Nope. In this recession economy? I don't have a fuck to give.

[He glances down, and off to the side, quiet for a moment at that. It's difficult for him to pick out what all he's feeling at the moment, some strange mix of anger and sadness and embarrassment, and at the same time almost touched. It meant something that Chuck was this angry and concerned over how Castiel felt, though at the same time he was displeased with himself for apparently being so pathetic.]

I'm fine.

[And a pause, as he brings up something he's been thinking about.]

We likely should be more concerned than we have been about the situation itself. We don't know what effect angel blood may have, how long the effects will last, or what may happen it wears off. And if he had such an intense craving for demon blood, he may again.

[The distraction talking about problems that need to be solved is far preferable to talking about himself.]

[He lets a long moment lapse in silence, leaning on the table with his face buried in one hand.]

There's a reason I've been so anal about letting you outside alone.

[Well, it hadn't been obvious that was the reason, but he'd begun to suspect it the last few times.]

It's unlikely I would be at risk.

[He doubts Sam is just hiding in the bushes somewhere waiting to spring out on him or anything.]

However others might be.

Who, Gabriel and Lucifer? I think they'll be okay.

If Sam stops being "himself" again, then not-he will know who the vulnerable one is. He wouldn't want to pick on someone his own size.

Figuratively. I don't think anybody's his own size.

If he chose an angel while desiring demon blood, any supernatural being may be a potential substitute.

[And the rest of those comments don't help. He's well aware that he's the only angel weak and pathetic enough to be overpowered by a simple human, but he is not some delicate victim, thanks. He downs the rest of his drink in one motion and storms out of the room, back toward the couch.]

Edited at 2011-09-09 07:25 am (UTC)

[Fuuuuuck. Chuck bangs his head against the table then turns his wheelchair around and follows him.]

Cas! Don't do that, man.

[He does stop at the protest, though he doesn't respond or turn around. If you have something to say, Chuck, go for it. Otherwise he's probably going to try going back to sleep now.]

Edited at 2011-09-09 07:39 am (UTC)

I wasn't trying to say that you're weak. I mean- fucking look at me.

That's just... no. [He grips the wheel handles tightly, chewing on his lip for a second to think.]

You're human, that's not...

Honestly? Anyone who actually thinks less of you probably doesn't deserve to know you.

[Chick flick moment. Hnngh.]

[He's quiet while Chuck talks, even during the break in speech, and the words do have the desired effect. Some of the anger and tension fade immediately as the reassurances, and again he feels that strange sense he normally only experiences around the Winchesters and Bobby, of being liked and actually wanted, for more than just how well he could follow orders.

He turns back to look at Chuck again, calmed for the moment, just worn out once again. There has been far too much emotion the past few days, particularly for someone still learning it, and when he responds it isn't at all about the subject they'd just been on, but the one before it regarding those at risk.]


My point still stands.

[Chuck nods tersely, gaze flickering elsewhere idly.]

Sam was already messed up beyond repair from Detroit- we have no idea what this could do.

[He tilts his head slightly. He knows the basics of what happened; that Sam was going to say yes to Lucifer to try to jump into the Cage. He doesn't realize exactly how close he was to doing so, or about the demon blood.]

Why?

Don't you remember? You said- you said that the amount of demon blood it would take to kill Lilith would.. change Sam forever. Into something not human.

But... Sam took a lot more than that when he went to say yes.

I remember. And ultimately very little came of it.

[He's still Sam, after all, and has been even after what occurred with Lilith. Whatever changed in him, if Castiel hadn't been wrong and nothing actually had, it hadn't been so catastrophic as expected.

But at that second part, he's quiet. He knew Sam was going to say yes; he didn't realize he'd begun preparations of that sort.]


That might indeed be a factor in some way, however.

Well- no, actually. While he was killing Lilith, his body temperature was one fifty, his heart rate was two hundred- and his eyes went black. Whatever got him and Dean out of that Church cleaned him up.

[Fidget fidget.] Having angel blood could do something even worse.

[Well. He hadn't really realized that, considering he'd been dead while Chuck had passed that information on and no one bothered filling him in. At mention of whatever had rescued the boys, he darkens slightly; he doesn't want to think about it. Because he knows who it had been, as Joshua had told them, but he still doesn't understand why.

Moving on from that to Chuck's second point he nods slightly, beginning to drift back toward the couch once again, simply due to tiredness instead of the anger from before.]


I know. Perhaps we should attempt to contact him.

[Chuck darkens a little himself, finding something super interesting over there to look at.]

Maybe when I can trust myself to not bite his head off.

[Literally or figuratively, Cas. You figure it out.]

[He's heard this expression before actually, so he really doubts it's literal. He's quiet a moment, though, before speaking again.]

I caused him a great deal of injury.

[And he didn't truly regret it; it had been necessary. But he should've checked before now to make certain he hadn't inadvertently done enough to kill him.]

He's fine. I'm sure of it.

[He's not, actually.]

Sam has the constitution of a damn moose and knows how to stitch himself.

[He knows full well how tough Sam is, and he doesn't think he did anything severe enough to be truly life threatening, but he really wishes it hadn't come to that. He's used to friends turning into enemies, but it's so much more difficult to take when it's a Winchester, and complicated farther by that it really wasn't totally Sam's fault.

But he's too tired to bother dealing with it right now; being mortal is physically exhausting even without injury and stress and he's not sure how humans manage it their whole lives. He sits down on the couch, leaning against the backrest.]


What do you believe should be done?

[He sinks down into his wheelchair, reclining it a little and trying really hard to think of anything other than what he's about to say next.]

Eventually we have to tell somebody.

[Castiel narrows his eyes slightly, displeased with this idea.]

Tell who?

[He does not want a witch hunt for Sam. This was something that could be dealt with internally.]

[S i g h]

Well, let's review options.

Anna can't do jack. And no, don't ask who Jack is. Michael would kill him. Lucifer would be on him like a barracuda and just make everything worse.

So that basically leaves... Gabriel.

[ ...

Wow. That's such a terrible idea that Chuck's actually struck dumb for a moment.]

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