Talking to God
"So," Dean says, "you're God?" The necklace burns hot in his hand.
"Don't get me wrong," Chuck replies, "Chuck isn't God. He just happens to be a prophet in a story that I wrote a very, very long time ago."
"So what do you want," Dean asks, eyes reverting from black back to normal. "Why would you waste your time on me? You saw what I did. I killed Sam. You don't get much further from 'good' than that."
"Oh, it's true you're off the rails again, but there are bigger questions you should be asking, and better answers you deserve to hear. I'm just not sure if you're ready to go there quite yet," Chuck snaps his fingers, and Dean exhales deeply, his body clean of the demonic taint. The mark glows red for a moment, then calms to a normal flesh tone. "Better?"
"Yeah," Dean replies, then slumps to the floor as his humanity washes over him. "Sam…"
"Sam is fine," Chuck says.
"But how, I killed…"
"No. You thought you killed him. Get a grip Dean, there's a much larger picture here."
"Chuck, what are you talking about?"
Chuck stands, walks to Dean, and hauls him to his feet with a thought. "I need you focused Dean. The rules have changed. In fact, the entire game has changed."
"What are you talking about?" Dean asks, his confusion evident.
"You Dean, well, you and your little brother, broke the world. I don't mean you dropped like a pebble in a stream leaving a few ripples to settle out, I mean that you literally broke the world," Chuck replies.
Dean can't read the man, which is very disturbing. He'd always been able to read people. Of course, God didn't really fit that description, or did he?
"You can stop right there Dean, just because we're off book doesn't mean I can't read your mind."
"What?"
"The story that I was telling you about, the one that I wrote a very long time ago, was the one in the Bible. It went exactly as I had written it, each decision made, each action taken, precise to the very detail. The story played out, the end was nigh, and then two humans and an angel ended the apocalypse. The story was meant to end there."
"So, when you say we broke the world…"
"I meant it exactly as I stated it."
"So, you're fallible?"
Chuck laughs, long and hard, occasionally fighting for breath in between bouts of deep, infectious laughter. Soon Dean is laughing with him, unable to help himself, though still not truly understanding the context of the humor or whether or not it was actually even funny. The two laugh for nearly five minutes before Chuck simply stops, leaving Dean even more confused as he sputters to a stop.
"No, Dean, I'm not fallible. I provided humanity with a spark, something that set them apart from other animals, but I gave them something else as well. I gave you all freedom of choice. It's very interesting how misunderstood that gift has been. I have watched from on high, seeing if any of you would ever figure out exactly what it was I had given you, but over the centuries I've been amazed at how disconnected you all are. Still, I'm not here to teach you a lesson on theology. I have a more pressing concern at this point," Chuck points to the bed. "Have a seat Dean. We're going to be here for a while."
Dean walks to the bed and sits on the end, while Chuck moves the chair he was seated in closer to the end of the bed with a thought and sits as well. He looks at Dean for just a moment, shakes his head in silence, and finally begins to speak. "Dean. You and Sam have surpassed the story I wrote. It had an ending, a well-planned, well thought out ending, and you've interfered with that."
"Sorry," Dean replies.
"No, you're not. You don't even feel an ounce of guilt about what you've done," Chuck cocks his head to the side.
"So we kept the world from ending bloody," Dean begins, only to be cut off.
"There's no guarantee that this is true, Dean. This world was supposed to end in paradise, and the chosen were to rise to heaven to remain for eternity with their loved ones. Now, Dean, heaven is bereft of its angels, souls like Kevin Chan's are earthbound, and there is no grand plan for humanity to follow. Do you realize just how much damage you have caused? Do you care?"
"Why should I care?" Dean replies, anger in his voice. "You're God. You could have stepped in at any time and fixed things, or helped people, and you did nothing. You're another deadbeat dad that takes off and leaves his children to clean up the mess, and you blame me?"
Chuck's eyes glow white, and Dean feels a great weight press down on his body. Chuck stands, his face unreadable, and Dean finds himself floating above the bed. "Yes, Dean. I blame you, and every other soul on this planet, for what has happened to my plan. But that's not why I'm here. I'm here because there are things that you need to know." Chuck touches Dean's head with the forefinger of his right hand, then vanishes in a flash leaving Dean to fall onto the bed, his eyes closed.
"Now isn't this an interesting story," Metatron comments from his place at the door. "I guess daddy's home after all." He disappears with a flutter of wings leaving Dean sleeping on the bed.