“I doubt that making sense is the point of the exercise.” Cas’ placating tone had also had plenty of work since he began supervising the Winchesters. Again he wondered what point and purpose this visit was supposed to serve; if Chuck were due revelation, surely there were better declamatory angels than he, and if – against all odds - he were the one to deliver the news he hoped they would have told him. As it was, he assumed Chuck was supposed to be kept in the dark.
It must have been unpleasant – all that responsibility, and no sense of guidance, of purpose… The similarities to his own situation did not escape him. Irony was a less than welcome but increasingly frequent companion. “You are still writing them down, correct? Even the ones which seem to have little relevance to the Winchester chronicle?”
One could not be around Dean Winchester for any length of time and fail to gain some degree of appreciation of sarcasm, and so Chuck’s tone did not go unnoticed. “I see. If I can be of any assistance…”
It was dangerous, asking that; the last time, he remembered, he'd practically begged a demon to give him directions. Now, however, he was not entirely without orders to follow. It was merely the right thing to do.