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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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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