It caused a tearing feeling in his chest for him to think about, so like anyone (anything) else in creation, he tried not to think about it.
But he was the Almighty, and he couldn't help but feel it when emptiness rolled over the countryside. That's what it was; not fog, not destruction, just nothingness claiming back what was taken from it. He could feel their cries as they turned on him, said that he abandoned them and that Amara would take them all.
They weren't right, not at first. During that apocalypse he stayed by the Winchesters' side, doing everything he could behind the scenes to make sure free will prevailed. It was as he said, nobody likes a helicopter parent, it was time for him to step back and let his creations figure out for themselves who they were and what they wanted to be. And he was proud, so proud, since his parenting was finally coming to something as team free will fought for what's right.
But he couldn't hide from himself; brutal and utter disappointment at what they'd chosen to make. Floods, wars, bloodshed - yes, he'd brought destruction like that before, but they were his creations and he could do that, just as a human could tear up a painting they made and throw it away. They couldn't do that to each other, they had no right. Their lives were his.
Although, that wasn't right either. He gave them free will, their lives were theirs. But only their own, they had no right to take each others' from them, and they kept trying and trying and trying.
And the half-life that heaven was? He never meant for that to be permanent. Death was supposed to teach them something, and the prophets did get this right, that he intended to come back, bring everyone to life, make life permanent. Then, he wouldn't be lonely, he would have millions and millions of family members who had free will, who knew the right thing to do, who did it.
He never meant for hell to happen, but Lucifer had created that, and he'd given Lucifer free will too. And he supposed that the people who turned away from him would want somewhere to go away from him, as well. It wasn't his fault that the place away from him turned into a pit of fire and pain; that's what happened when you chose destruction and death. This, too, broke his heart to think about. People thought he could just 'stop them,' somehow, but he couldn't without taking their free will. And besides, they chose to abandon him - who was he to begrudge them their choice?
They were his creations, and they were destroying each other. This was no family, there was no love here. Before he created, Nothingness itself was his only company, but this creation was no company either. they forgot he existed in more than hopes and dreams, and seemed so desperate to throw themselves into the destruction and blackness his sister desired, that his sister was.
Amara could have gone and created herself a new universe; she could have the world the way she wanted it. But she didn't want a world. She wanted anything resembling a world to be destroyed, absorbed within herself. The only reason she hadn't destroyed him yet was because they were opposites; she could not, and never would be able to take him. That's why he wasn't surprised she was on this crusade. There seemed to be nothing else in her nature. The thought made him bereft, because he often thought that if she wanted, she too could be something more. He created Death to be what he thought she could have been; wise, knowing, caring, in a way, bringing the end to those for whom it was time. The time would come for everyone, and they all needed someone to take them.
Sometimes, he wondered if she had the same awareness he did. She didn't seem to have much of a concept of love, of loneliness, of emotions. Chuck wondered sometimes if she only existed as a logical opposite to his Being. There had always been them, her silent and oppressive weight, and his endless loneliness. Death had a full awareness, Death was very old, a logical necessity to a temporary life. But like life, Death was just a shadow of the real life and death, existence and nonexistence. Him and Amara.
The bitterness tore at him again; she was taking everything he created, and loved, and held dear, and corrupted it over and over and over. She would let him have nothing, and he was done with trying. If he kept trying to revive a creation that just wanted to throw itself to her, all he would do was protract his own suffering. Even the pain of loneliness would be better than watching her unending attack.
He sat wearily on the bench, feeling empty. His emptiness stretched past his body, invented just to give him a set of boundaries and a voice to interact with. His emptiness was the world, his creation, and his emptiness was felt by it in every corner. He did have a good time being Chuck, and after a fashion it wasn't a lie. He was, is Chuck, an alcoholic hack writer. Some days, he even forgot he was God, living in and enjoying the all of creation. The Netflix TV shows were good, traveling was good, and he didn't magic up or steal or conjure any money. He wanted to retire and live as a human, and he successfully did for a while. He watched his children grow up.
He really was Chuck; he really did care about Becky. She was too good for him, all optimism and innocence. She would think so highly of him, God, and increasingly around her he couldn't forget that he was God, and he was not the good and loving deity that Becky. Becky loved him, after that conference, she really had seen Chuck in a new light, and her willingness to give him a chance was too much for him. He left.
He'd slept around a lot after that, staying with people for some time but never letting himself get more invested. It was hard for him to forget he was God after that. He'd given himself guitar, given himself french, started living a little more liberally after that. But the emptiness that grew in his chest couldn't be ignored after that, and he knew more than anyone else that physical pleasure wasn't going to fill that hole. So he stopped.
He started seeing himself the way everyone else saw him; a cruel, capricious God that abandoned his children. But he didn't see what other choice he had; they were just going to break his heart over and over again. It was them, damnit, that said if a relationship was bad you needed to get out. And it was his right; He created them and He had the right to end that existence.
Except that it wasn't him ending it. He was just laying down and letting Amara take them.
Damn it, Metatron was right, he was being a coward.
But what would Metatron have him do? They weren't going to stop destroying themselves, weren't going to stop throwing themselves at Amara. He was not foolish enough to think that returning to the world would stop them; they were just as bad in the days of Noah, when he walked among them regularly and even spared some from death. Enoch still walked the halls of heaven, waiting for him to come back and return him to earth.
Metatron was wrong. The lives they lived, the depth of their existence, was so shallow. They feared death and crawled from it, and could never even begin to imagine the depth of feeling or existence that he was.
But Chuck couldn't deny the beauty in being so small, so mortal, and still fighting with everything you have. Metatron was right, they were more than him.
And what else could a creator hope for?