#chuck angst

“Hey, there you are. I was looking for you,” Chuck pushed his way past the stacks of boxes in the store room she had decided to organize. 

“You’re God, babe. You knew exactly where I was,” she chuckled. 

“Yeah, but I also sensed you needed some alone time. I didn’t want to intrude. I promised I’d stay out of your head and I’m keeping that promise,” Chuck acknowledged, taking a seat next to her on the floor. “What are you doing in here?” 

“Trying to keep my mind off the end of the world, again,” she scoffed, pulling another box in front of her. 

“We’ll find a way to stop her,” he promised, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

Y/N laid her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her. His strength was zapped after the fight with Amara. “What if we can’t? We’re all going to die.” She sniffed, wiping her nose with her sleeve. 

“At least we’ll be together,” he reasoned, resting his head on top of hers. “What do you say we get you out of this mess and to bed? It’s almost two in the morning.” 

“Shit, I didn’t think I’d been in here that long. I need a shower first. I’m covered in dust and cobwebs,” she informed him. She took his offered hand, and they left the storage room. 

“Can I join you?” he asked, almost hesitantly. 

“I’d like that,” she whispered her reply, kissing him sweetly as they reached her room. “No singing though.” 

“You love it when I sing,” Chuck protested.

“Yes, I do. But it’s two in the morning, babe,” Y/N pointed out. 

“Right,” he nodded. “No singing.” 

After grabbing a change of clothes, Y/N led Chuck to the shower room, softly shutting and locking the door behind them. She doubted either of the brothers would be looking to shower this late, but stranger things have happened when they’re stressed and can’t sleep. Y/N removed her dust covered flannel and shrugged off her boots. Fatigue had seeped into her bones, and she felt it acutely as she stripped off the remaining articles as Chuck did the same. 

Y/N flipped on the shower and stepped under the already warm spray. Chuck followed, watching silently as she wet her hair. “You’re beautiful.” 

She blushed slightly under his gaze. “Thank you.” Y/N turned her back to him, grabbing her shampoo off the shelf, only for him to take it from her. 

“Let me.” 

She stepped back as his hands spread the lightly scented shampoo through her locks. She generally appreciated his hands at any given moment, but at that moment, she hummed contentedly as he massaged her scalp. “That feels nice.” 

“I’ve just started,” he chuckled. “Turn and rinse.” 

He ran his long fingers through the strands, rinsing the suds down the drain. He reached for her body wash and poured a generous amount in his palm. His hands drifted over her skin as he washed her. While there was nothing sexual about his ministrations, she still found it sensual, the way he touched her. He was always there to take care of her, even in the simplest of ways. Since their early days when he was simply Chuck, the drunk prophet. 

Y/N returned the favor for him and soon they were toweled off, dressed in night clothes and in bed. “It’s odd, this feeling.” 

“What’s that, babe?” she asked sleepily, draping her arm across his waist, his around her shoulders, cradling her head on his shoulder. 

“Not being able to just snap my fingers and do something,” he admitted. “I feel so weak, so useless.”  

“You’re not weak, Chuck. You’ve taken a hit, yeah, but we’re going to fix this,” Y/N reassured him. She shifted her body until she was straddling her lover. “Let me take care of you.” 

Whispers of pleasure and declarations of love bounced off the cold tile walls as she took her time, pushing them both over the edge. Wrapped safely in the cocoon of his love, she drifted off to a restful sleep for the first time in weeks. 

~*~

She woke in a cold sweat, tears streaming down her face and into her hairline, Dean gently shaking her shoulders. “Y/N, wake up. It’s just a bad dream.” 

“Yeah. Bad dream,” she agreed, wiping her face dry. “Let’s get back to it.” The problem was she never had a chance to grieve the loss of their love. Sam had been kidnapped and tortured by the British bitch and Mary Winchester had returned from the dead. They never had a moment of rest. She never had a moment of rest. Never took care of herself. She was always hunting or taking care of Sam and Dean. Now they needed to save the world. Again. 

~*~

Y/N turned up her face at the storm that raged overhead, like the fire inside her. It had been one mini-apocalypse after another, and she was done. She was done with Chuck fucking with their lives. She was done with him putting the nightmaric visions in Sam’s head. How many times had he seen Dean die by his own hand in the last few months? How many times had Sam died at the hand of his brother? How many times had they killed her? She was done. 

“What the fuck do you want with us?” she roared into the storm. “Quit being a fucking coward and show yourself! Come and face me you piece of shit!” 

“Is that any way to talk to God?” his voice carried over the wind whipping around her. 

“When he’s acting like a toddler, yeah. A diva? Yep. My dickbag ex that left me hanging for years while he was galavanting around the fucking universe bonding with his sister? Abso-fucking-lutely!” Y/N bellowed as she faced him. 

“You always were sexy when you got mad,” he chuckled, a look of nostalgia clouding his features. 

“You haven’t experienced my wrath,” she challenged. 

“Fuck, I wish I could give you one more kiss, to feel your warmth, to see you smile… I miss you so much,” Chuck professed, taking a few steps closer to her, the storm calming around them. 

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure the statute of limitations hasn’t expired on your bullshit. You should have thought about that before you left me high and dry without even so much as a note,” Y/N cursed. “I’m so fucking done with this act. End this now and let us go. We’re not going to play your fucking games anymore!” 

“The final chapters are just starting, Y/N. And yes, my love, you will play along. I haven’t finished your ending yet. You play nice and I’ll save you,” Chuck revealed. 

“You think I’ll just give up on Sam and Dean? For you? Why, because you’re God?” Y/N thundered.  

“Because we have a history,” he remarked. 

“It’s that history that will eventually be your undoing, God,” she spat. “I’d lay down my life for them before I ever go with you. They were there for me when you walked out. They’ve been there for me every step of the way. They were there before you, and they’ll be there long after we’re done with you.” 

“Because I wrote it that way! Don’t you see?” He snickered. “I made you indispensable to them and them to you. I’ve made you so co-dependent on one another that you will gladly sacrifice yourself for them, but would they do the same for you?” 

“Without question,” she answered. 

“We’ll see about that,” Chuck grinned wickedly, the storm gaining strength once more. 

“No, brother. It’s over,” Amara called out over the booming thunder, illuminated by the storm and her power. 

Chuck backed away, only to be restrained by that power. Amara stretched out her arms, gaining further intensity, levitating over her brother. She placed her hand over his heart, her palm glowing red as she transferred the Mark to him.

He cowered from her touch, and his screams rent the air before he fell to his knees on the soaked earth. “What have you done?” 

“Turnabout is fair play, Chuck. Let’s see how you like being locked inside a cage for a couple of millenia,” Amara mused, returning to the ground beside him. The storm dissipated and the sun broke through the clouds. 

“You should know better than to mess with a Winchester, Chuck,” Sam clucked, wrapping his arm around Y/N’s waist. “You okay, honey?” 

“Never better, babe. The best is yet to come,” Y/N placed her left hand on his cheek, pulling him in for a kiss, her silver ring glinting in the sunshine. She turned back to Chuck on his knees at her feet. “Think about that when you’re rotting in your cage.” 

In the blink of an eye, Amara and Chuck were gone, leaving Sam and Y/N alone. 

“Feel better?” Sam asked her.

“It’s over. With Amara’s help, we saved the world again, and I got my closure,” Y/N smiled up her husband as they walked toward their new life together. “So yeah, I’m good.”

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The Sam Sin-dicate / Jared’s Menagerie: @supernatural-jackles​

Cas didn’t know how to feel about the envelope in this hands. His father had been here after he went to only his father himself knows where. Cas had seen the light under his bedroom door as he came down the hall. He had been filled with hope as he entered his room, wishing his father had come back to see him. The room had been empty and dark when he opened the door, nothing for Cas to see other than the shining white letter on his pillow, with Castiel, scribbled across it in an effortless handwriting.  

Cas sat on his bed with the letter in his hands. The Bunker was quiet and dark. He was completely alone in the dark stillness of the Bunker as the Winchesters slept. Normally this time of hour was peaceful to Cas. He knew the two humans that had become like family to him were safe within the walls of the Bunker and under his protection, but tonight the silence was roaring like thunder within his ears. He knew he couldn’t ignore the letter. He couldn’t hold onto the anger and resentment he felt towards his father. He still felt betrayed and ignored. He had stood right beside his father, who knew how desperate Cas had been to find him. How badly he needed his guidance, and still he had said nothing. He had pretended to be a human prophet. When Heaven needed a leader, he had stayed gone, leaving Cas to try and fill the void only to fail miserably and almost losing the Winchester’s trust for good. It would be so easy to hate him and blame him for all that had happened, but when it came down to it.,Castiel was not Lucifer. He didn’t hold his own shortcomings against his father. He only wanted to understand. He wished he had had a chance to speak with him before he had left the world he created and all his children behind yet again, but that hadn’t been the case. So instead, the angel took a deep breath, deciding to see the letter in his hands as a blessing rather than a curse. Maybe through this he could understand his father a bit better. Maybe….

Castiel. My son.

I am sorry we didn’t get a moment alone before I left again. I am leaving you this letter in hope you will understand my actions, in hope I will leave you filled with less hate than I did Lucifer.

You should have seen the earth during its first morning. So inviting. So full of promise. I had so much hope, but as humankind kept failing, as I kept punishing them, I was afraid. Afraid that I failed. That my creation was doomed to be flawed forever. So I left. Not to leave them, but to live among them, to understand their reasoning and their motivations. I was still weighed down by my responsibilities. See, every life lost, every life created were like sands in my pockets. It weighed me down, but still, for the first time in my existence, I was free. I was happy Castiel. The humans they are flawed, but they weren’t my biggest failure. They were my biggest success. They are imperfect, filled with doubt, flawed even, but they fight to do good, most of them anyway. The goodness in a few more than makes up for the evil in others. I know you learned this too.

And living like them Castiel, among them, it taught me so much more than all my days of creating, watching, and judging. I drank with them. Sang with them. Loved them. But I was lonely. I missed my family. My sister. My sons. I missed all of you. So when the Winchesters started out on their journey, I began watching them. I wrote books about them, but more than anything, I learned from them. They taught me what love and acceptance really mean. No matter what they put each other through, their love was unconditional, and I realized that mine had to be the same. I stopped blaming the humans, my sons, for my creation not being perfect, and I started loving them for trying to make the best of the mess that was handed down to them.

Just because I created the world, it doesn’t mean that I own it. Just because I am God, it doesn’t make me perfect and not in need of learning. I am a sinner as much as a saint, and even if I am sadden by the world some days, it doesn’t that I am unhappy with it.

Castiel you choose free will. I created that for a reason. I wanted everyone to make their own choices. I know that you feel that you have failed. The world, your brothers, the Winchesters… maybe even me. But Castiel, you haven’t. You have made mistakes. You have learned from them. You will continue to learn, so will your chosen family and maybe even my other sons. You are at home on earth Castiel. The Winchesters are your true family, and I am not scared for the world anymore. My job will never end, but as for now, I leave the world in yours, Sam and Dean’s hands. It will be safe with you. I am proud of all of you Castiel. My favorite son.

Chuck.

Cas stared at the last words. My favorite son. Castiel had never been anything special. He had never been anyones favorite. He was a general, but he had never made all the calls. Being in charge scared him. He was scared of failing, but now he realized that his father had been too. It was not the fear or even the failures that mattered. It was what he chose to do with them.

Heaven had been a phantom for Cas for years. Some place he longed for but knew he would never truly return too. It wasn’t until he read the letter from his father that he began to realize he had never belonged. The Winchesters had given him a room, a bed even if he didn’t need it. They had shown him love, forgiveness, and loyalty. Cas knew that he belonged on Earth. He knew he would give his life for the brothers. His brothers. He would stand by their side,and together they would protect the world. Cas wasn’t in this alone, and that was why he, unlike his father, wasn’t scared. He knew that no matter what he might have to face, he would do it with Sam and Dean by his side. Castiel was home, and he silently thanked his father for finally realizing it. He was done chasing phantoms, and a smile spread across his face as he rose from the bed after hiding the letter under his pillow, wandering towards the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. His brothers would be awake soon.

Castiel Tag Team