IC contact: Sirenspull

[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?

Comments

[paterelohim]

[The instant Cas starts crying, Chuck can feel it like a punch to the stomach- another tatter of that wall diving him from Himself comes down, so he can close His eyes and see: Cas sinking down slowly, silent tears falling already, curling up like a child and clutching that Bible page to his chest. Castiel cries harder and in that moment Chuck looks at him, the aeons-old angel, that ageless being of sound and fury, the immortal who remembers the First Day- he looks so young that He has to resist a sudden, violently strong urge to go to his side immediately and scoop him up in strong arms and promise to make everything okay.

It doesn't feel like the progress it is. It's messy, painful, raw in ways He tried so hard to bury under alcohol in these years of seeing His children suffer in his dreams. This urge to be there and interfere, the physical need to soothe and reassure- those are human impulses, human paternal instincts born from the long centuries slipping deeper into the human experience.

It's only now He realizes just how much He's changed.

How much He could still change.

Instead of reaching out through the distance and going to him, Chuck stays in his apartment, head bowed and eyes seeing that same alley, and waits. Soon enough Growley (poor thing, her pain is beyond His power to help) cuddles up to him, furnishing Cas with the physical comfort Chuck knows he needs, letting Him relax just a little.

He reaches out with another, softer breeze that tousles his hair, gently sweeps away the headache from crying, chasing down his coat sleeves like a warm whisper of a touch that barely lands before it's gone.

There's so much more He could do, of course, so much He could say, but he's not ready for that. Not now, not here. Chuck can do more good for Michael as a friend, and less harm to Lucifer as... whatever the hell they have. And maybe he's just a little chicken-shit, too. Revealing Himself would ruin everything, trash every relationship He has, change every dynamic and set them all back in ways none of them have even considered.

It's enough, really, to let his baby know he's loved.

So He'll keep watching long enough to see Cas' reaction, then He's patching up that wall again. Putting all that power and Might where it belongs- away. Then he'll collapse in a pile on the bathroom floor and have some serious alone time with the gin under the sink.]

[ofthursday]

[The gentle rustle of breeze comes as Castiel is calming down, completely drained in a way that's both hollowing and freeing at once, and he lifts his head from his knees in time for his hair to rustle, and his head to clear a bit. He knows on some level this isn't a normal breeze either, and he closes his eyes to feel it until it passes.

Slowly, then, he manages to get his feet under himself and with a gentle resting of his hand on Growley's head, he stands with the support of the wall. Looking down at the hellhound, he speaks for the first time since his prayer.]

Let's go home.

[The page that Castiel has been holding goes carefully into his pocket, like it's a priceless treasure, and it is. The angel spreads his wings and the hellhound prepares to teleport, and the two alight at almost the same time in Crowley's now oddly empty house. Growley moves off into the back room, still whimpering, to tend to her puppies as Castiel sinks down on the familiar couch, stretching out for a few moments.

He needs far longer than that to process everything that's happened, but he only gives himself about ten minutes before he sits back up and begins to pull out his NV. There are things that must be done.]