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His favorite angel was dead. His favorite's foil was dead. His favorite's foil's mother was dead. Everyone was dead. Everyone except for Sam and Dean Winchester . . . for a change.
Well, everyone except Sam, Dean, and his annoying whiny brat of a son Lucifer. He went through the terrible twos, twenties, two-hundreds, thousands, millions, etc . . . Kid has a rotten streak a planet wide.
And Chuck was all but sighing into his hands.
"Cheer up, brother," came his sister's voice, that despite a good effort, lacked any sense of real comfort.
"That's it?" Chuck whined. "'Cheer up's the best you got?" he continued growing increasingly more panicked, flailing about as much as a being without limbs can really 'flail'. He and Amara weren't really in corporeal states at the moment. Amara preferred it this way, but Chuck had grown fond of his humanoid form (even if he would never admit it).
"Well, if it bothers you so much, then fix it!" Amara said, exasperated. This is why she and Chuck never got along. He loved to complain, but never lifted a damn finger to make any change. Amara on the other hand, was a being of action. Sure. So she made a few (hundred thousand) mistakes, but no one could say she didn't at least try.
"I can't just interfere," Chuck answered.
"Says who?"
"It's the rules!"
"And who made those rules again?"
". . ." Chuck lowered his eyes.
"Exactly," Amara said with an air of victory. "So let's go fix this damn mess, so you can get your damned baby in a trenchcoat back."
"He is Sam and Dean's favorite play thing . . ." Chuck said, trying his best not to let Amara know that she had won.
Back on Earth, time ceased. Chuck and Amara passed over the dead Castiel from the other universe. He passed through the tear in time and space and paused by Crowley. He was loathe to admit it, but he liked the bloke. However, there was nothing he could do for him here. Not all the rules were made by Chuck, especially not in this place. Chuck moved on, while Amara lingered.
Chuck reached out for his Castiel. And then he found him. Castiel instinctively reached back, before retreating. But Chuck had him now. He found Cas and told him. He told him what he needed to do.
And Castiel listened.
He was such a good little soldier.
November 2, 1983 - Lawrence, Kansas
A baby was crying.
It was Mary's turn to go check on Sam.
John listened as his wife sang their little Sammy back to sleep . . . but she wasn't alone.
John heard a soft pitter-patter of quiet feet and the breath of someone not yet well versed in remaining hidden.
It was Dean, hovering outside of his baby brother's bedroom door.
John smiled softly. Then Dean began a duet of "Hey Jude" with his mom.
John laughed. The boy couldn't carry a tune. At least he got that much from his father. Because John always said that he certainly got his looks from his mother. He would grow up to be a handsome young man one day. And with some lessons, maybe be the next big country music star.
John tip-toed beside Dean and once Dean realized he wasn't alone, John scooped him up into his arms and entered the nursery.
And they saw it. A celestial being. Mary and Sam were entranced. And John was afraid. He wanted to run, but Dean fought against his father and in the moment of hesitation, John saw how wondrous it was.
"You're pretty," Dean said, freeing himself from his father's hold and walking toward the light. "What are you?"
"My name is Castiel, and I'm an angel of the Lo--"
The glowing creature faltered. He saw the effect that his voice had on Mary and John. They were suddenly afraid. John cowered in fear, while Mary readied herself for a fight. But Sam and Dean were enamoured. Dean was holding his little brother and walking into the light.
"My mom always said that there were angels watching over me," Dean stated, "And I know my mommy's really smart, but I thought angels were make-believe. But you're not make-believe. You're real. And really awesome. And you're a really real angel!" Dean was positively beaming.
At least until the party was crashed.
"You did WHAT now?" shouted someone new.
"Well, since the gang was back together, I figured I should do my best to help out," was the reply. "I've been working my hand at creating life. And well, I haven't have great success yet, but I'm getting better. I mean, you're more or less in one piece still, right?" she replied before disappearing.
"In a manner of speaking, yes," he replied, "but I would've been fine on my own. All you had to do was get my corpse back to this side of reality and I would've been fine. But you had to go prove yourself to your brother or something and what a FINE mess we've gotten ourselves into . . . Castiel?"
"Crowley . . ." growled the angel.
"Now just you listen here . . . I didn't ask to be here," Crowley replied.
Castiel looked protectively at the two young boys.
"And I have no plans of terrorizing the little tykes . . . no way."
Castiel said nothing, but had he been in a corporeal form, Crowley would've seen him squinting and tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy.
"Are those," Crowley said, this time stifling a laugh, "the mighty Sam and Dean Winchester?"
"You know our names?" little Dean said, voice filled with wonder. "Are you an angel too, mister?"
Crowley let out a great big belly laugh.
"You know, I've been called all sorts of names, but 'angel' has never been one of them."
"Is it done?" Castiel asked in a way that caused Dean to jump. His angel wasn't supposed to be this brusque.
"You mean Azazel?" Crowley asked.
Castiel pinned Crowley in his spot with a glance.
"Just a question," Crowley said, with a show of indifference. "I took care of business if that's what you mean. That yellow-eyed freak shouldn't be giving you any trouble for at least a millennia or two."
"Yellow eyes?" Mary asked, finally gaining the courage to speak up. She knew of a yellow-eyed demon. She made a deal with him years ago.
"Like I said," Crowley said with a slight nod of his head. He widened his eyes to emphasize his sincerity. "Taken care of."
Mary sighed her relief and thanked Castiel.
Crowley rolled his eyes. He was always overlooked. But sometimes he almost preferred it that way. "You're welcome," he added, a tinge of bitterness on his tongue. He almost preferred it, but that didn't mean he didn't appreciate some recognition.
And Sam and Dean grew up with two loving parents and an angel and demon at their side who protected them from all the dumb decisions they would've made because the world was honestly better this way.