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SECRET KEEPER
The thing about Chuck Shurley was that he seemed to have a trustworthy face because everyone told him their secrets.
He had often thought about making a living out of secrets but then he’d realised that equalled to blackmail so he’d written a short story about it instead. The story had sucked so he’d returned to the old faithful: Supernatural.
Except now, every time he tried to start writing things down, one of the Winchesters would pop up behind him, frowning at the screen and examining everything he wrote.
“I didn’t cry,” Dean would complain or Sam would tell him that a location or a fact was wrong and Chuck would try to explain that this was a first draft but they didn’t understand how truly difficult writing was. The only person in the bunker Chuck could stand to be around when he was writing was Cas. The angel wouldn’t disturb him until Chuck asked for his help but even then he would read with wide eyes and then praise the ‘Winchester Gospel’, even if that chapter had been terrible. It was a huge ego boost but if anyone needed one, Chuck did.
It was one of those regular Tuesdays when it happened. Chuck had to admit that maybe it was a side effect of being God that made people confess their sins to him, like a subconscious knowledge in human souls that this man was God and God needed to know everything in their heads so he could judge them.
Anyway, Dean had spiked Sam’s coffee with salt, as he usually did once or twice a week, and Sam retaliated with a similar childish prank, as usual. Then Cas had come into the kitchen in his pyjamas – sweatpants and always one of Dean’s old tees – and Dean had stammered something out that vaguely resembled a greeting whilst Sam smirked at his brother’s ineptitude to be normal around the angel in the mornings, when Cas looked so messy and innocent. They’d all eat breakfast and discuss their plans. This morning, Sam was visiting a nearby hunter to help her with a case; Dean was fixing up the Impala; Cas was going to be reading the newest instalment in his favourite book series; Chuck was going to be writing.
“No chick-flick moments,” Dean had warned Chuck before leaving for the garage, ruffling Sam’s hair and smiling awkwardly at Cas.
So Chuck wasn’t writing any ‘chick-flick moments’, he was writing a fight scene from a case the brothers were on last week. It was violent and bloody and gory and it ended with Dean decapitating a vampire but of course it led to them returning home, Cas having made them pie and burgers, and Dean was soulfully looking at Cas and-
“What are you writing?” Cas asked.
Chuck jumped and guiltily minimized the document, remembering too late that his background picture was of Cas, blue eyes almost glowing as he looked at Gabriel, who was balancing a candy cane between his teeth. To Cas, there was no possible explanation why Chuck would have that picture as his laptop background. It reminded Chuck of why he was still keeping up this charade. If he told his sons who he was, their smiles would fade and their defences would go up. Gabriel had just decided that Chuck was okay, through lots of Cas’ gentle encouragement.
“Nothing,” Chuck replied. “I was just, uh, testing the water on some new stuff.” It wasn’t exactly new stuff. Dean and Cas’ relationship had always been a central theme throughout the books. The fans adored it. Chuck had to admit that their fantasies of it becoming more weren’t that unrealistic. Even he hoped for more.
“Anything I can help you with?” Cas sat down beside him.
“I don’t think so. It’s more of a writer’s conundrum.” Should he include romance into the storyline or should he wait until it happened naturally in real life? Chuck had an eternity to write but only a limited time to wait for their relationship to form (Death’s jokes about reaping him were getting too frequent for Chuck’s liking lately – and oh yes, Death was alive because did the Winchesters really think that they could kill him? They’d had a good laugh about that over drinks). Cas nodded and then bit his lip, thoughtfully. Seeing his chance to solidify their bond, Chuck jumped in. “Is there anything I can help you with, Cas? You’ve been…quiet, lately. Troubled.”
“Can I tell you something?” Cas said.
Chuck had to stop himself from saying something sappy, something that a father would say, and settled for a simple “of course”.
“I think I’m in love.” Oh. Well, that was something Chuck had definitely not been expecting. He’d been thinking that Cas had done something apocalyptic, like releasing the Leviathans again, and was too scared to tell the others. He hadn’t thought that he’d have to give real advice; he’d assumed he’d nod wisely and call Dean over to help. Wait…Chuck started smiling. Maybe Dean was the only person who could help.
“Who do you think you’re in love with?” Chuck responded, choosing his words carefully.
“Maybe I was being a little doubtful,” Cas said. “I don’t think I’m in love, I know I am. It’s just hard to admit because Heaven never approved of these kinds of relationships, and I don’t think my Father would either.”
“Gay relationships?” Chuck blurted out before he could stop himself, eyes widening in shock. Like Hell he would stop anyone from being with someone they loved because of gender. He’d tell the world that, one day.
“No, no, of course not, I know that he loves all people, regardless of sexual orientation,” Cas said and Chuck relaxed slightly. “I meant human and angel relationships.”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
“Well, one day the human will die and the angel will be distraught or he’ll turn himself human too and either way, Heaven will lose another solider.”
“You are not just soldiers, Castiel,” Chuck said before he could think about his words. Cas looked surprised. “I mean, angels, you make your own choices. You rebelled and you found yourself a real family.” Chuck gestured to the photo hung up on the kitchen wall (they were all sat on a low wall in Minnesota, Dean had his arm around Cas’ shoulders, Cas was looking at Dean, Charlie was messing up Sam’s hair, Sam was trying to look normally into the camera but he was moments away from pushing Gabriel, who was leaning against his chest, chocolate dangling from his lips).
“Do you think he’d be proud of me?” Cas was smiling at the photo, eyes drawn to him and Dean.
“I don’t know what God thinks,” Chuck said, “but if I was him, I’d be the proudest father in the world.” There was a lull in the conversation as Cas stood up and walked over to the photo, finger reaching out to touch Dean. “Anyway,” Chuck continued, “if the human died, they’d go to Heaven.”
“I’m not so sure that he would agree.”
Chuck’s insides curled up in anger. Dean and Sam Winchester will go to Heaven, he had screamed a million times until his words were etched in stone and Heaven had received them. The reapers were given strict instructions not to touch them when they died. That was a job for Death and God. The angels hadn’t touched the Winchesters since, except for a few renegades, as they feared their father’s return. “When he is in Heaven,” he said, “the angel will be able to visit him whenever he wants, for eternity. You can visit people’s heavens, can’t you? So you can see him.”
Cas’ face lit up, revitalised by the idea of never letting his human be lost to him.
Chuck stood up and patted Cas’ back, trying to be as paternal as he could. “I think you should tell him.”
“You know who it is, don’t you?”
“I’m not an idiot, Castiel,” Chuck said and Cas laughed. “I’ve seen the gooey stares you two give each other constantly. I’ve read the fanfiction,” he added. “Hell, I’ve inspired the fanfiction. You think its coincidence that most of my readers think you’d be a cute couple?”
“Chuck!” Cas groaned, turning pink.
Chuck grinned. This was what he had wanted all along – an easy relationship with his sons. He got to tease them and watch them fall in love and grow and be loved and become part of something. He’d watched Cas rebel and fall for Dean; he’d watched Gabriel stand up to his brother for humans (and more specifically Sam, even if the hunter didn’t seem to feel the same way). “Go!” He urged Cas. “Tell him.”
Suddenly he was pulled into a huge hug, Cas’ head resting on his shoulder. “Thank you,” the angel murmured. “Thank you, Father.”
Chuck froze. “W-what did you-”
“I’m not an idiot, Father,” Cas said before pulling away and walking out of the room, leaving a shell-shocked Chuck behind him to face a soon-to-be-shocked Dean.