#I’d say incorrect Angel dust but it’s honestly not

[corpusdiem-seizethedead]

Angel: *pointing* May I sit there?

Husk: That's my lap

Angel: That doesn't answer my question.

[mattzerella-sticks]

Checkmate (Castiel-centric, Chuck & Cas, Castiel/Dean Winchester coda to 15x17 “Unity” and 15x18 “Despair, 1.9k)

ao3 link

Billie saves Jack from suffering a fatal end from her plan, and knowing Jack was safe gave Cas space to focus on his own troubles. Nearly losing his son again... revelations from Chuck... choices Dean made, were set on, until Sam broke through at the last minute - too close - they all were...

It was too much. Cas needed to digest these roiling experiences away from faces it hurt to look at. Except he stumbles exactly where Chuck wants him. After countless times praying for guidance, Chuck finally decides now is perfect for a long-awaited heart-to-heart.

           Cas abandoned the others once Billie disappeared, not even waiting for her form to fade before striding away. Stomps up each step, ignoring Dean’s calls as he races from their home. Into fresher air aboveground. Being an angel, Cas was inexperienced with breathing. Yet, instinctually, Cas gasps for breath once he breaks free.

           Hunched over the outdoor railing, Cas’s vision blurs. Darkness encroaching at a pace that makes him shiver. “That’s not…” he hisses, sinking lower, crouching. “It’s not real. It can’t… there’s a deal. They were very clear –“

           “C’mon Castiel, you should know by now…” A familiar voice breaks through static, Cas’s grip tightening on the rusted rail. “This close to the end, anything goes.”

           Cas turns his head, meeting Chuck’s deriding glare. “You’re still here?”

           “I’m everywhere Castiel,” he mocks, arms spread wide and head tilted backwards. Laughing, “I’m God.”

           Briefly, Cas considers shouting. Alerting the others that Chuck hadn’t gone far, nearer than they figured. Except Chuck’s head lolls around once more, clearly expecting Cas to do exactly that. His jaw tenses, Cas rising on shaky legs. “What do you want?”

           “Loaded question. I want a lot of things… Amara’s power – but I got that.” His eyes flicker, blue and black, before fading into their regular hazel. “This world to end… close. I could wait fifty more years but let’s speed it up, honestly. You and your family to suffer…” He grins, advancing towards him. “How is Jack doing?”

           “He’s fine,” Cas tells Chuck, “but you already know that. Don’t you?”

           “Guilty.”

           “Then why ask?” Cas glares at his creator, mustering enough fury that he trembles from an entirely new reason. “Did you stick around only to gloat? Is that what it takes to get you to show up?”

           “Oh Castiel…” Chuck grabs his chin, pinching it. Sparks jumping off his finger pads and searing his skin, Cas wincing when Chuck doesn’t let go. “You’re not bitter that I never returned your calls, right?”

           Chest aching, Cas tamps down that hurt. Accustomed to doing so. “But you received them?”

           “I hear each and everyone.”

           “And you do nothing.”

           “I only help those that deserve it.” He shoves Cas away, spinning on his heel. Gestures around them, “No one on this Earth – in this universe – deserves it. Ungrateful sacks of filth and – and mud. Imperfect, flawed…”

           “Beautiful.” Cas defends them on instinct, stepping forward. “Humanity might be all of that, but it doesn’t make them any less deserving of life. Of a second chance.”

           “Humanity…” He laughs again, to a joke Cas must have missed. Wiping a false tear, Chuck leers at him, “Really? Does humanity deserve a second chance? Is it even a second chance anymore?” Then, with a disturbing amount of severity laced through his voice. “How many more chances are you going to give Dean?”

           Chuck’s hand rests over his heart, closing the distance between blinks. Claws at Cas’s chest, clutching onto him. Cas stares above his creator’s head, resolutely not giving Chuck what he wants. Hiding sadness and longing they both can feel rippling across their bodies, warmth abnormal given this cooler climate.

           “You’re always giving so much of yourself to him,” Chuck whispers, prodding. Breath felt as he rasped in his ear. “Isn’t it tiring? Disappointing he doesn’t do the same?”

           Cas swallows the immediate thoughts that emerge. Those traitorous voices expressing similar sentiment, nasally and grating like them. His shadowed future. He answers, instead, with, “I will always do whatever it takes to keep my family safe.”

           Groaning, Chuck knocks his head against Cas’s shoulder. Repeatedly, harder and harder. Each swing whacking at his cool façade. “Love!” he bemoans, “Your love for humans, your love for him. How I hate – why does it all come down to Dean.” His hand trails upwards, snaking over Cas’s tie. Chuck steps backwards, dragging Cas along. Forcing him onto his knees. “Sam, I get. They’re brothers… sentimentality. They’ve been through the wringer longer than every other Earth, of course it’d be harder breaking that. Too mature, set in their routines… And Amara, she was finding herself. Dean was a passing fancy – entertainment, nothing more. But you…” Bending, Chuck presses his face onto Cas’s. Close enough he sees lightning flashing within his pupils. “Your little defect, your crush… this is all your fault.”

           “I…” Chuck’s eyes glow, his throat seizing as this greater being chokes him. Cas fights past it, coughing. “It’s… yours.”

           “No, it’s not. Really.” He stops, dropping him. Cas scrabbles into a crouch, warily observing Chuck circle. Arm raised defensively; angel blade prepped in case of another attack. Useless, given the comparison of power, but he refuses to sit and accept his death. Not like this. Luckily rather than smite Cas, Chuck wastes time prattling. “I tied everything up in a neat, little bow. Sure… took longer to get there, edits and rewrites of course, but the story was done. Brothers battle, one dies, close the book and move on. Raphael was supposed to raze this stage for the next show… until someone called for an encore.”

           Cas startles, guard slipping momentarily. “Wait… you wanted Raphael to restart the apocalypse?”

           “Yes!” Chuck yells, thunder booming in the distance. “It should have been Michael! But what do I find when I check in? Sam back, Dean hunting again, and you balancing an angelic civil war while pining for a man who was better off without you.”

           Those reminders threaten Cas, like tentacles rising from dark ocean waters ready to drag him under. Deeper into his past mistakes. Cas grounds himself, scraping the dirt. Feels it. “My part was done,” he challenges, “Over. Lucifer blew me into tiny particles. Untraceable. You brought me back.”

           “Because how else would I have gotten Dean out of that damned cemetery!” Chuck kicks a rock. It rockets through the sky. “If I’d left him there alone, he’d be as good as dead. Where’s the satisfaction in that? All you had to do was dust Dean off and send him on his way. Couldn’t even do something simple without screwing it up!”

           Cas glares at his creator, shouldering the burden of his disappointment, straining under its massive weight. He does not fall, however. “And all the other times?” he asks. He’s not sure if he wants to hear his answer. Worse, that indecision is a damned lie.

           Chuck grins. His simple act knocking Cas onto his rear, overwhelmed by its cruelty. “And let you off the hook for beating this dead horse? Not a chance. If the Leviathans blew you up, you’d never suffer through the fallout from betraying Dean – the man you did everything for. A hero’s sacrifice, staying behind in Purgatory? For penance? You don’t decide your fate – I do! And it was perfect. Hope, Castiel. All that hope you had… for Jack, a better world, a chance to raise a kid alongside the others. Experience those wonders, find a new purpose – dashed with a simple knife through your chest. The last thing you saw being Dean as his heart shattered, and he broke. That playing on a loop while you slumber for infinity in the Empty – now that was an ending!”

           As an angel, Cas doesn’t sleep. Can’t dream and cannot have nightmares. In moments of peace, sitting alone in his room at night. Bathed in darkness… that memory strikes. Quick, cutting in its ruthless appearance. Sets him to his feet, light on and blade drawn. Watching shadows shrink in their retreat.

           Chuck continues, angrier by the second. “You would have stayed there too, this time. Dean, Dean prayed. Every night that I would bring you back. Instant voicemail.” Cas frowns, distracted from past trauma by this new information. Dean never sharing this. “Except I was too focused on your demise I wrote myself into another problem – again, because of you!”

           “Jack.”

           “You just… you make me so mad! Castiel, you gotta – you gotta understand, I mean…” Chuck wipes at his cheek, palm lingering there while their gazes meet. “You’re an angel. A – uh… a simple worker bee. A drone. I’m the queen! You shouldn’t be able to do this, it’s – what is it about you? Was it this world – did I… help me make it make sense!”

           Righteous fury seizing, oozing out the cracks of his very being, Cas stands. “You want to know what happened?” he says, seething, “I finally saw what was important. Grand battles, ultimate power… they’re all meaningless if you are alone. Unloved. My time here has taught me…” Those words feel awkward on his tongue, incorrect. He switches, answering honestly. “Dean showed me that.”

           “He sure did show that…” Chuck huffs, rocking on his heels. Smugly enjoying Cas’s defiance. “It sure didn’t include you.”

           Chuck twists his hand in the wound. The very reason Cas fled, Dean’s statement ringing in his head. ‘I’d trade all of them for the chance to kill Chuck.’ Their heated, silent exchange during that brief pause. Communicating as best they could. Still, Dean gave into his fears. Chomped at the bit Chuck dangled. Choosing what Cas prayed he’d never.

           All for nothing.

           “Is that why you’re here?” Cas asks, “kill me one last time? Take me off the board because I’m not important to the story?”

           “How I wish that were true, Castiel. How I wish that were true.” He steeples his fingers, drifting into the surrounding forest. “You’ve got a part to play in this. Something big. A set up for the final battle… that’ll bring all the pieces I need onto the board.”

           “Except for me?”

           “I’ve learned from my first draft,” he says, “not to let surprises derail the story I want to write. You, you… you are nothing but surprising.”

           Cas scowls, fists balled at his sides. “And you being here? Sharing this with me? Is that part of your story?”

           Chuckling, Chuck wags his finger from side to side. “Let’s just say I’m… making things up as I go along.” Cas stiffens, hearing his own words used against him. “Wanted one last chat with you before you drown back in that slimehole.”

           “So it’s soon?” Chuck’s lips thin, stretched closed. Restraint crumbles, Cas leaping forward. “Tell me what you’ve planned -!”

           He’s thrown onto his back, a hand around his neck. Chuck expressionless while he struggles, looking almost bored. “Nothing, Castiel,” he says, “I have nothing planned.”

           “Liar!” he hisses, “You said that I –“

           Chuck talks over him, “It’s the truth! I didn’t plan anything… the only one to blame is you, Castiel. Like always, you are the architect of your own misery.” Cas freezes, body rebelling. Flames of hatred snuffed with a cold breeze. “Not like anything I could’ve written would have sticked anyway, we both know this. But your deal… I didn’t make you do that. You have no one to blame for your doom but yourself.” He releases Cas, wiping his hands on his pants. Sneering at Cas like he was garbage, but smaller. Gum Chuck wiped off his shirt, but worse. A bug under a magnifying glass while the sun shone brightly above, except more pitiful. “It’ll be nice to sit back and enjoy for once… so put on a good show, Cas. Really push Dean into doing something dumb and suicidal when you’re gone. Sell it! Make it count – it’ll be your last.”

           Chuck vanishes, leaving Cas there. On the ground, physically. Mentally, spiritually, he’s adrift in the unknown. Floating towards an ending he always knew waited for him. An ending that he chose.

           Or did he? If every other option was stolen from him, was it truly his choice? Cas certainly wouldn’t pick this. Years from now, after his loved ones have shuffled off, at peace with a life well lived – that’s the ending he would write. Being welcomed into his perfect heaven with gentle green eyes, freckles, and a dimpled smile.

           He stays like that for longer than he realized. Sam finds him, asks if he’s okay.

           Cas lies because, like with the Empty, it’s the only choice he has.