Summary: Chuck isn't dead, heaven is malfunctioning and Kevin Tran got the worse side of the deal. If Chuck were still alive, what would he be doing?
Chuck impatiently paced across the floor, waiting for a vision. He was living in London, at the moment. Never staying too long, never stopping and getting to know people, he lived life quite differently.
He had once told the Winchesters that he had no marketable skills, nothing he could do besides write the "Winchester Gospel." The problem... Well, that's not quite true. He was good at one thing. Just one thing, and that was lying. If you can lie and be creative enough about it, you can get way farther than you might expect. Well, and friends. Chuck was just out of college when he met her. She had taught him everything he needed to know, and for a while they were partners in crime. Then the dreams started, and he wanted to do something legal and nice to show off to everyone, especially once he realized there would be angels watching him day and night.
So he became a writer. She became an actress. Neither or them were successful, but it made Chuck feel a little better about his "retirement plan." Honestly he would never make it in the real world. Unless he was lying about something, he was way too nervous. It was odd that being completely truthful about everything made him feel worse than lying all the time.
Of course now, heaven was messed up, and that Naomi lady had decided to awaken another prophet because he had disappeared off the map. But thanks to Becky, a little bit of hiding and an account on a fanfiction site, the Winchester Gospel was still going strong.
He wasn't making much money anymore, from what little he had from the Supernatural series in the first place. He couldn't get money from "fan" fiction, (even though he sure as hell wasn't writing that he didn't own his own work.) It was either make some money or sit on his 'earnings' from before. And he wasn't ready to retire.
This was the situation that brought him pacing nervously across his London flat, gripping his cell – mobile, they called them mobiles in England – phone tightly. Finally he brought it to his ear. "Sophie?"