Fricken Dickens!
A/N: Tis the season for a good old fashion christmas miracle! Here is the first chapter of what I hope to be a sweet little story i can finish in then next 7 or so weeks. Wish me luck and let me know if you like what you've read so far!
Chapter 1: Another Christmas In Another Motel
Dean awoke with a start, sweat pouring down his face as his breath caught in his throat. Even now, as he blinked his eyes to focus them, the horrors of the dream were so real, etched on his eyelids, that he could still feel the pressure of the hand on his body and the weapons piercing his skin.
As he relaxed, in the realization that it was only a dream, he felt a presence in the room, deep in the depths of the bunker, and the panic and fear, was upon him once more.
"Hello Dean," a voice beside him spoke in the darkness.
"What the hell Chuck?" Dean grumbled as he reached for the beside lamp but before he could touch it the light turned on.
"That was quite the nightmare you had," Chuck commented conversationally. "I'm sure it's not the only one of it's kind. Time in hell, time with the mark, time with Michael, all perfect for the construction of subconscious turmoil."
"Rummaging around in my head, were you?" Dean asked and fell back into his pillow.
"I'm God, I can do anything," Chuck said and smiled. "I'm a little surprised though, that that was the nightmare. Haven't you gotten over that?"
"In general, do people just get over their time in hell?" Dean asked sarcastically.
"People don't get out of hell, so I suppose not," Chuck responded. "It's interesting though, to think about it, and when you've been through so much. Is it always hell, or do you have other bad dreams?" He asked.
"When did you become my shrink?" Dean asked as he propped himself up on his elbows. "God, fine, but you're not the one I want trying to figure me out."
"Isn't that the most fascinating thing about humans? The phycology of it all? Sure, I made you and I made everything, but there is a plan and prescribed way of things until that moment when you exit into the world and land on your feet, well within the first eight to twelve months. I have nothing to do with any of that after you're born, it's you learning," Chuck said. "And from there, creation is all on you. Brilliant, right?"
"Sure, whatever you say," Dean sighed. "Where's Sam?" He asked to change the subject.
"He's asleep. Let him sleep," Chuck said and the light flickered off again. "I'm here to talk to you."
"I'd like a good nights sleep for once in my life," Dean sighed. He was halfway out of bed but reluctant. "What couldn't have waited until morning?" He asked and he rubbed his head and tried to push the horrible dream from his mind knowing full well it was just one of many.
"I think you know," Chuck responded as he stood, walked around the bunker bed and sat down next to Dean. "Another Christmas in another motel?" He asked. "Is that really what you want?"
"No, but we have to work and we found a case, so Sammy and I will hit the road in the morning," Dean answered.
"So that you have time to check into a dump and ignore the wonder and awe of the holiday created by man to celebrate me?" Chuck asked. "It wasn't my idea, but I love it. Christmas is great! You're so lucky to have Christmas to celebrate and most of the time you and Sam just ignore it."
"I'm lucky to have this Christmas in whatever motel room or dwelling on this planet this year, no thanks to you," Dean whispered harshly and stood. He walked a slow circle around the dark room and then stopped and in the darkness looked at Chuck. "Lucky is the last word I'd choose for this but if you say I'm blessed, I'll kill you," he added.
"It's snowing," Chuck said with a smile. "Put some cloths on. Let's go for a walk."
"It's the middle of the night!" Dean almost yelled but knew that, even though it was a concrete bunker the walls within were very thin, so he stopped himself.
"It's beautiful at night," Chuck said. "Come on, humour me. I'm God."
"No!"
Chuck shook his head, the lights came on again, and he turned to leave.
"Where the hell were you?" Dean asked in disbelief. "I prayed. I know you heard me."
"Michael has his talons pretty tight into you, but yes, I heard you," Chuck said. "Your brother and his motley crew found you. The Impala, your mother, your brother, they pulled you out. It was always meant to happen that way. In this work and in that world, and in all worlds where Michael comes face to face with Dean Winchester. I couldn't help you because Michael, both from this world and that one, and every one in which I am God, has no idea that I am God and that's the way these things have to stay."
"You're archangels can't tell by looking at you?" Dean asked knowing it wasn't true. "Lucifer knew," he accused.
"Lucifer needed to know," Chuck said. "But the others don't; not Michael or Gabriel, or even Raphael if he was alive in any worlds, which he's not."
"Then why do we know?" Dean asked.
"Because you are blessed," Chuck said and winked. "But you've been through a lot and you've lost your faith in me, in yourself, all you believe in is Sam and well, I need you back on the right path. Time for a good old fashioned Christmas miracle," he added and before Dean could protest, Chuck reached out and touched his forehead and zapped him away from the snowy night in rural Kansas.
