A/N: So mixed reviews on the angels. That's all good, lol. To supernaturalrenegade – I hope you continue to follow enough to form a different opinion. :)

"C'mon, Sammy," Dean murmured, his hand resting on his brother's shoulder. "Keep it together. I'm right here."

Sam had managed to sit up long enough to see where they were, a brief moment where he was allowed enough clarity to focus on the present. He was surprised to see the three angels across from them, enough of a shock to keep him focused. Swallowing awkwardly, he looked over at his brother, confusion written all over his face.

"What's going on, Dean?" he managed, forcing another memory aside with a great effort.

"Dunno, Sam," came the response as Dean looked back across the table. "You okay?"

"I had to fight...I had to face soulless Sam...and the Sam who'd been in the pit...when Cas put me out." He clutched the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white from his grip. "Soulless Sam wanted to kill me...almost did, but I outsmarted him. The Sam who remembered Hell...just wanted to die. He was flayed...scarred...defeated. I remember everything." He never took his eyes from his brother's, silently begging for help, for release from it all. "I can feel everything."

"I'm sorry, Sammy." Dean hung his head. "I screwed this up, big time."

"I don't think you did, Dean."

The older Winchester looked up, his brows raised in blatant surprise. "Chuck?"

The man they knew as Chuck took his place at the head of the table, sitting back casually in his seat. He crossed his legs, folding his hands over his knees as he regarded those gathered. A small smile seemed to rest on his face, but didn't quite reach his eyes. In fact, he looked tired.

"I don't understand," Dean managed, feeling slightly nauseous. "What's goin' on here?"

"What's going on is...quite simple, actually," Chuck, considerably more well groomed than usual, answered. "You know me as Chuck, the accidental prophet...the one you've called for answers and advice when there's nowhere else to turn. In fact, I'm the one you should have turned to all along."

"God," Sam breathed, clutching his brother's forearm.

"I know," Chuck laughed, "a big step up from Moses and the burning bush."

It seemed to take an eternity for the news to process through Dean's mind. Chuck was, in fact, God, the very God they had been searching for. His absence was the very reason there was chaos in Heaven, the very reason that Castiel had found himself in the position he was in. Dismay and disbelief soon turned to anger, an anger that Chuck himself was all too familiar with.

"I know you're angry, Dean. I know what each of you have been through. You have each endured more than any man was meant to bear."

"You've been...leavin' Heaven to the will of the angels...letting them jerk us around like toy soldiers...lettin' them start the damned Apocalypse and play with our lives like they're nothing," Dean forced through clenched teeth, red rimming his vision as he looked defiantly toward the head of the table. "You've sat back and just...let everything happen...and we're...I'm supposed to be okay with that just because you say that you know?" His fists clenched, knotting in the denim fabric of his jeans.

"No, you have every right to be angry," Chuck admitted. "I have been around since before the beginning of time. I guess you could say I was tired. I am tired. The constant demands that I make changes to the way the world runs, the demand to start the Apocalypse and wipe the world clean of its sin, the loss of my sons to their own selfish greed...it was enough. Saying no wasn't enough. Several of my sons decided to break away...find their own path. I thought it was the perfect opportunity to sit back...and let them see where their actions would take them."

"You gave 'em enough rope to hang themselves," Bobby commented, careful to keep his own anger in check.

"Your 'sons' are dicks," Dean growled, unrelenting in his own rage. "And now, the best one you had...you ignored his prayers long enough for him to choke on his own damned ambition to save Heaven and Earth." He felt his throat constrict in grief. "He thinks...he thinks he's gonna be the new God."

"Which is why I've returned," Chuck sighed. "I wanted to give Castiel a chance to prove himself, and he was doing so well. It...renewed my own strength...to see one of my sons so diligently working toward what I wanted. That's something I hadn't had in a very, very long time."

Dean exhaled shakily, feeling more tears sting his eyes, and he cursed himself for his weakness. "You're just gonna...jump back in the driver's seat and expect...everything to be okay?" He bit his lip, shaking his head. "There is no...pure good anywhere in this world. Not anymore. Your angels took that away."

"There is a lot of work to be done," Chuck agreed, leaning forward against the table. "I know you're tired and I know you suffer." He rested a heavy gaze on the younger Winchester. "I know you suffer, Sam. I am not blind to your pain."

"What do I need to do?" Sam whispered through his anguish.

"I will never rest more on your shoulders than what you can bear," came the reply, as gentle as a breeze washing over him. "If you ask for my help, it will be given to you."

"Then please," Sam managed prayerfully, his voice breaking, "please, help me, God."

tbc...

A/N: Shortness intended. :) SPN Mum, you're so close to reading my mind that it's scary. :(