Chuck woke up to a cold apartment. The heating had given out in the middle of the night. Again. Since that had been a recurring occurrence, he simply plugged in the electric heater and sat down at his desk to write down the previous night's dream.
That time, only Castiel had haunted his sleeping mind, dressed like the Old Death and following him around his old house, the garden of Eden and the bodega where he liked to get his ramen. He was carrying a scythe and his wings were out leaking wisps of darkness. Chuck had tried to talk to him, but Death Castiel was quieter than the OG version. But he was always quiet in his dreams; the ones that always spoke were Sam, Dean and Lucifer. Sam was always the one pleading with him, trying to convince him to change things, to intervene, while Dean called him every name in the book and a few that he invented himself and Lucifer simply mocked him "How does it feel, daddy-o, to be one of your precious humans?" Always a little shit Lucifer.
These dreams were a normal occurrence for him and he jolted them down as inspiration for his next series of books- especially Dean's insults (they were, after all, his own creations). Sure, online, people were still begging for more Supernatural books, since Becky had decided to publish all his unreleased work online, but he had no intention of putting to page his defeat, giving those Winchesters assholes any more time of day or attracting more attention to him. Maybe they had changed their minds and wanted to off him. To put a spin on the old "Saving people; hunting things'' mantra that they had going for them. The Winchester Gospels were donzo. Finished. Nah craghe ishe boighte, as they said on the Earth squirrels could sing like birds.
Chuck was going to write a new series of books that were going to chronicle the life of a hero betrayed and abandoned by his family and his friends. A tragedy. Almost autobiographical. It would be under a new pen name, which was yet to be decided. He had thought about Bobby Bennet or Vince Lemek. but neither sounded right. He still liked Carver Edlund, but that made him easy to track. As did Chuck Shurley. Had he known he was going to be deposed as god, he would have made more aliases to get him by.
Nevermind that. Back to work. Where's the coffee? Chuck snapped his fingers, but no hot mug appeared beside him. Oh, yeah, that wasn't a thing anymore. Mumbling under his breath he went and made himself a coffee that ended up tasting just a little burned. And he'd run out of oat milk, because as it turned out he was just a tinge lactose intolerant. Like how?
Surprisingly the first book of his new series had come along quite easily. He was just a few pages away from the ending. Sure, the book was a rehash of the last few years with the names of the Winchesters changed to Rich Klein and Keith Monqul, but the narrative held and it had little to do with his previous series.
He just had to write the ending which he like totally didn't want to do (as Valley Girl Sam would say), but he needed money. What was more human than to profit off of suffering? Even if that suffering had been his own.
In the last scene, Donnie Kheis was standing over the protagonist, cast in shadows and "looking over Tobias, with his goons and Aimes behind him. Keith and Richard showed no emotion, no recollection of the battles he had helped them win or of all the beers they had shared. Aimes looked almost happy at his misery. No sisterly love to be found.
They let Donnie punch and kick him and watched as the kid, with a hand shrouded in dark light, dug into his chest and pulled out his golden heart.
Tobias's heart. It was the place where all his might and power were stored. It was the reverse of Aimes' heart, which, before she gave it away, had been dark and velvety, with strands of delicate smoke surrounding it. Tobias had to give it to her; she'd been right when she told him that starting a family was a bad idea. "Monumentally bad."
"Beautiful," said Donnie before he took a bite out of his heart. And another. And another. With each bite Tobias felt his power drain away; all his might was flowing away freely, with no dam to stop it. All he could do was to watch it in horror as it disappeared and with it all the light that had been his life source. When the kid was done he wiped a golden drop of blood. "You know, gramps, Rich was right all along when he said I was a monster."
Tobias tried to get up and attack Donnie, but he had been so weakened by the loss of his powers that it proved to be a pitiful endeavor.
Rich and Keith looked at him with disgust. "Is this where it ends? You sure his power won't come back?" asked Keith.
"It's not his anymore," said Donnie as a matter of fact. "He's got just a human heart in an old man's body."
Tobias was still on the ground, near Mike, whose blood had now made a dark contour around him; it was slowly absorbed by the land that he had hated so much; making them something that they had never been before: one. His last son, the last betrayer, finally had joined his siblings. All his children were gone in a snap of the fingers. No one would mourn Lucian and Mike; not even him in the few moments he had left; the same could not be said about Cassie. Rich would always blame himself for her sacrifice. That's how little girls end up when they disobey their father.
"You were my favorite! After everything I have done for you… I've always watched over you, helped you, saved you and this… this is how you repay me? Why couldn't you just play along? Look at what you made me do!"
A flash of anger crossed Aimes's face; Keith had a look of regret, Donnie was emotionless- maybe a flash of pity could be detected and Dean's face was a mask of cold fury and loathing.
For the first time in his long life Tobias was sure of what was going to happen next, they would kill him for all they claimed he did to them. What did he do after all? He made them all! Saved them all! Was it so wrong that he expected them to obey him?
"C'mon, boys, finish the job! Make it stick!"
Rich and Keith exchanged looks. Keith was going to do whatever Rich wanted. Not that it was surprising. Keith had always been in the shadow of his older brother; the conscience that kept his heart from rotting away.
As a last "screw you, dad", they all moved past him, ignoring all his screams, all his pleadings to give him the ending that he deserves.
His family gone; his kingdom destroyed; his myth vanished.
And yet, he will rebuild."
Chuck sighed, it was okay as endings went, but he wasn't truly satisfied. It was lacking, but he couldn't tell what it was that was missing. There was something lacking that his previous series had never lacked. Maybe it was the lack of foresight.
It was a shame he couldn't use Becky anymore; she was back (because everyone was), but he knew that she would not take too kindly to the way things ended the last time they had seen each other. By that point he would have taken Metatron's snarky comments about his writing. Let's see him claim that Chuck's latest book wouldn't make the top ten thousand of his favorite books! Shame Amara killed him; in the end he was just another Winchester victim.
Even just another low ranking angel would have done the job. He would have taken anyone really- not a Cupid, those guys freaked him out. Even Raphael from the universe where carrots didn't exist was better than nothing and that guy was dry and flavorless; scrubbing toilets was better than having a three minute talk with him. Still, he'd always loved Chuck and followed his word blindly. A trait that Chuck had come to appreciate more and more in the past few years.
On top of it all Chuck's new editor was a jackass: "This sentence is a run on; why do you keep calling Donnie Jack; why are you writing in the first person now; you need to be clearer; you're rambling; bla, bla bla. He made the universe, for his…, well Jack's sake! His work was so good that it inspired all of fiction! And he wrote all the Supernatural books! Chuck knew his stuff, so a little man cramping his style was nothing to him.
Pfft… rambling… run ons.
At the very least Chuck was done with the new book. He sent the latest pages, then started to make the modifications requested. You know, no one asked him to modify the sky! He did that in his first try. He also didn't need to eat when he made the sky.
To be fair, Amara did inspire him to create its blue color and the clouds were her idea, but he made them! Now that same shade of blue adorned his bed in the form of a fluffy blanket. It had been on sale.
He had to buy things on sale! He wasn't broke, far from it, but he wasn't rich enough to live comfortably for the rest of his days. The royalties that he was getting from the Supernatural books weren't much. Okay, they were shit. That's what you get when you don't tell people you were god! Maybe his whole spectator shtick had been somewhat a mistake.
How he missed just snapping his fingers to have things happen. Like a better apartment. Or more money in his bank account. Or a perfectly cold beer from another Universe. That Pierre was a french douche, but by himself, did he make a good beer!
Without snapping any fingers Chuck went about and cleaned the apartment; empty cups of ramen had begun to take over his desk and floor alongside crushed cans of beer and candy wrappers. The doctor had told him to cut down on the fats to lower his cholesterol. And his sodium was a little high.
Just as he was about to watch another episode of the Kardashians, the ping of an email sounded loudly from the other room. It was that damn editor! "Write more feeling into his ending; Tobias is very blase about being defeated. You have the villain of the story show very little emotion to his defeat.
Why does he ask for death? And why don't Rich and Keith kill him? Or Donnie or Aimes? He's done plenty to deserve it.
Make it clearer that letting him live is a better victory for them than killing him; this is the way they are truly separated from him. There is no need for the rest of the characters to have their perspective narrated from Tobias' POV.
I do like that he's delusional. Lean even more into it if you can. There is no way for him to get back what he lost, because he's got no one left to help him.
Great job overall, Carver! Send me the modifications as soon as you have them.
I was hoping we could meet next week to talk about covers. I have a few that I think you would like!
P.S. My husband wanted me to ask you if you have a free night to come and have dinner with us? I made him promise not to talk about those books.
Talk to you later,
Wendell S. Buchanan"
Sam and Dean had not killed him because it was the only way that they would have won? What was Wendell on about? They let him live because they wanted him to suffer in his cold apartment with his high cholesterol.
Chuck had not asked for his death in his final confrontation because it had been the natural conclusion to the story. The hero wins when the bad guy is killed or trapped forever (even if, from his experience, forever tends to describe a lengthy period of time rather than forever). They left him there to be killed by the elements or by the lack of food.
Though he had easily found a guy with a kayak that had taken him to the next town and had lent him his phone to make a few phone calls to resume his Carver Edlund life.
And "little emotion?" He'd shown plenty of emotions. He even begged to not be left alone, which was embarrassing, so he'd written out that part of the story. What more emotion was there to be had? Chuck was pissed that he lost the fight. If things had gone his way, he would have killed Sam and Jack. And Sam would have gone back to a special afterlife he had created just for him where he would have been alone forever. The only way to access that afterlife was to be Sam Winchester himself, meaning that no one would come after him. Not that anyone would be there to have the idea before Dean died and went to his special afterlife where he would see just endless replays of how the lives of everyone he had loved would have been better if he had never been in them sprinkled with Castiel's sacrifice.
Regarding Jack he wouldn've been so drastic. Jack would have gotten a quick death and he would have ended up in the same place as his daddy Cas.
A neat little ending.
What could he have even narrated from other POV's? "Look at me, I'm sad sad pie man Dean Winchester boozing and whoring my way through my life and now I've defeated the one guy who gave two shits about my life!"
"Buhu, look at me, I'm wittle Sammy Winchester and daddy never loved me as much as he loved Dean because I was the reason mom died."
"I'm baby Jack and will you be my daddy?"
"And I'm Amara and I want attention! And I want it now, otherwise I'll destroy everything!"
Those people deserve to have their own POV?
Ha! They already got more than they deserved.
Although, if he really thought about it he could offer some more perspective from the Sam and Dean characters. He knew them better than he knew anyone else.
The reason these Dean's and Sam's had been the best was the fact that they constantly kept failing; they never really had a win and yet they kept marching on, doing their duty to a world that would have been better without them in it (no, really; the three universes where Sam and Dean had never existed never faced an apocalyptic event; same went for the one where they were immortal cats.)
It was getting late and Chuck wanted food and the best alternative when you can't snap your fingers and get it was to go to Truck Food Andy and get one of his burritos. Talk about a work of art!
"Hey, Andy, my man, one big boy with everything!"
"You got it, Chuckles! Had a good day writing?"
"Eh," he shrugged, "Finished my book."
"Great, man! Wish you would finish those Supernatural books, my daughter really loves them." That thing again. He would try every few weeks to get Chuck to start writing again for the series and he would skirt around the subject. If Andy didn't make such good food and if he didn't always give him a discount and a free soda, Chuckles would have stopped coming a long time ago. You can always find good food in New York.
Deciding to at least follow some of the things his doctor had said to him, Chuck opted for a walking dinner in the Theater District. It was the start of a beautiful night, the city lights slowly replaced the sunlight and the air gained a chilly element that pinched his cheeks. People walked around in all types of clothing; from the elegant to the intentional and unintentional shabby kind.
Just as there were all types of clothing, Chuck could study all types of faces; from the very perfect to the very unbalanced and, yet all had something similar; all were just a little scrunched from the cold. Some were speaking loudly with no regard if there was an audience or not to listen and if Chuck walked at the right moment he could hear snippets of what was happening in the places he was walking by, like gentle summer sea waves. Still, it was peaceful. It couldn't compare to the month he spent in the Aupouri Peninsula, living under the open and starry sky and enjoying the salty air. It's not that you couldn't find that kind of beauty everywhere; but the particularities of the beauty were what made it special. He would have liked to live somewhere where nature was more prevalent, but for him it was easier to hide among, what were now, his fellow humans.
Halfway through his burrito and musing on the changes he was required to make, a homeless man tried to get his attention, "Hey man, can you give me a dollar for a slice of pizza? Maybe two for a coffee. C'mon man, I haven't eaten all day!" Chuck kept on walking and among the insults the man hurled at him one stood out: "Soulless bastard!"
Chuck wanted to turn around and tell the man that a soul doesn't make a person good or more likely to help a fellow man. Just look at Mother Theresa. Pardon him, Saint Theresa; like that old crone's bones could be used to kill a leviathan. Although the man was right when he said that he was soulless, on the bastard front there was more to be discussed. He was parentless, but he also invented marriage, so… And he wasn't an unpleasant man. Most people that had met him had liked him. So he was just soulless.
Soulless.
He was soulless. How did it take him so long to realize? He was going in the Empty! He was going to be at the Shadow's mercy. It was not going to let him just sleep. That asshole would take a lot of joy in having god at its mercy and it would wake anyone it could in order to torment him. A shiver ran down his spine. And the worst thing about it was that he had not been lying when he said that souls were complicated even for him, because they were. The world didn't really start with only two souls, but it took him a lengthy period of time to perfect the soul. That's why he made them recreate themselves.
Maybe he could have a kid and take that kid's soul. Although he was not sure if the resulting child would have a soul or not given that one of it's parents didn't. He could take someone else's soul, but he wasn't sure that that would even work, because what he needed wasn't the soul per se, but the power of a soul (or several) to create himself one. A persons' soul was still tied to who they were when the body is still living, because otherwise people with no souls would just die when relieved of its possession (to be fair, that was not what he had intended). He needed at least one alternative. Of course there was no way he could ask the kid for one, since technically he should be able to create one. Amara never knew how; she could only eat them.
So that left him with the Garden of Eden. It was the best starting point. No one had used the garden to create a brand new soul, only to restore a lost one. Still, it was a starting point. If it hadn't been taken by the Winchesters and hidden in that crummy Men of Letters bunker.
Oh his former self, were the complications never going to stop?
To be fair, he was human and the only thing he had to do was to wait for the boys to go on a hunting trip and just go look for it. The idea of being in the same state as them gave him goosebumps. He didn't even like that they were on the same continent.
There was much to plan for his mission to be successful.
But first things first, how much was a bus ticket to Lebanon, Kansas?