Chuck came back in with the groceries to find everyone, even Castiel, standing in the kitchen like they were waiting on him.

"What?" he asked. "Cas is here, so it means something."

Dean rolled his eyes as Sam said "We're having an intervention."

Chuck dropped the groceries on the floor. He knew exactly what this was about. Finding out that he is actually god and actually abandoned everyone had drove him deeper into nightmares, and deeper into the bottle.

"You're drinking like a fish, like even for us like a fish, screaming so loud every night the house rattles, and you spend all day skulking in the yard," he finished. "What's happening."

Chuck frowned and put away the groceries. "It's not a big deal, all right? Raphael's just weighing on all of us."

"What do you even have to have nightmares about?" Dean frowned.

Chuck raised his eyebrows. "What, Cas exploding on me not enough for you?"

Dean raised his hands in surrender, successfully chided.

"Just tell us, Chuck," Sam said. "I mean, you wrote the book on it, you know how lying always gets us in trouble."

Chuck looked up at the ceiling. He didn't want to lie to them, but this isn't something he wanted to share with them, not right now. He barely remembered who he even was.

"Fine," he said, glowering and wheeling around to look at them. "Something's up. But I'm not talking about it."

Dean frowned again. "Is it about, you know, who you are?" he said vaguely.

Chuck continued to put groceries away. "I don't know what you're talking about," he ground out.

Bobby snorted. "Now that's a lie if I've ever heard one."

Chuck wheeled around again. "What do you want from me?"

No one said anything.

"I thought so," he spat, and stormed outside.

Chuck was seething. For god's sake, (he supposed he shouldn't say that anymore), all he wanted was to be left alone. Literally, all he'd ever wanted, since the god forsaken beginning of fucking time, was to be left alone.

In his chest, he felt something squirm. That wasn't true. That's what he wanted for a long time, but before then, there was something else he wanted.

He kicked a rock in the field in frustration. Whatever impenetrable darkness made god himself fall, he didn't want to be a part of it.

But it didn't care if he wanted to be a part of it. The darkness was in him now, a sea of anger so vast he was sure he would drown.

Now that he knew about the power, he couldn't get it out of his head. He could see everything, and knew he could crush it all with just a thought. He was so angry he thought he might like to; crush it all, and just try again next universe, with his sister at the helm and him in the cage instead.

The sea of anger was anger with himself.

And then he heard footfall behind him.

"Chuck!" Dean called.

"Leave me alone!" Chuck yelled without turning around.

"Maybe you should - " Castiel said from the distance.

Dean ignored him. "Chuck!"

"I swear, Dean Winchester," Chuck said, "If you have an ounce of self preservation, leave me alone."

Dean had almost caught up to Chuck. "Well, I don't have that," he called.

Chuck turned around, and with a sweeping motion, Dean was thrown backward fifteen feet.

"I just want to help!" Dean called, getting back on his feet.

Chuck scoffed. "I thought you thought god's a dick."

Dean shrugged. "Not anymore. I don't know much, but I know that anyone with nightmares like that isn't the bad guy."

Chuck crossed his arms, shifting his weight to one leg.

"I also know you just like force-threw me, but you only threw me ten feet, and I landed so gently it felt like landing on a mattress. That isn't exactly what the bad guys do."

"What do you want, Dean."

"Like I said, to help. Look, I know you're god -" Chuck flinched "- and that you abandoned the world and it's all fucked up now, but I'm sure there's a reason. I just know that you're Chuck, and you're clearly struggling with some stuff, so let us in so we can help."

Chuck grimaced. "I'm surprised you're giving this speech and not Sam."

"Well, when push comes to hug, I'm more of a girl than he is."

"Witty," Chuck said dryly.

There was a moment of silence.

"When did you figure it out?" Dean asked.

Chuck sighed, anger draining out of him a little. "When you guys got home this last time. I heard Bobby and Sam talking, and thought it was completely fucking ridiculous, except that I had this feeling it just wasn't."

Dean nodded. "The nightmares, yeah. So…" he trailed off. "Do you remember?"

Chuck frowned, and shook his head. "Just enough to know I don't want to know."

"But how can you not want to know?" Dean pressed. "It's ultimate power! Who wouldn't want that?"

Chuck put his hands in his pockets. "You think hunting is a shit job, try being god," he said.

"What? Come on," Dean said incredulously. "It's god. How bad can it be?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Chuck said roughly. "I forgot for a reason."

They stood there in silence for another moment.

"If you don't come back, Raphael is going to kill us all," Dean said quietly.

Chuck said nothing. Chuck felt the memories stirring at the edge of his awareness; that this was all his fault in the end. That it was all pointless. He had failed.

He remembered people falling into cages, into pits, into endless cells he fashioned for them. He remembered preaching, and punishing, and doing all he could, and he remembered that it never mattered anyway.

"There's nothing I can do," Chuck finally said.

Dean and Castiel's eyes both widened. "What?" Dean almost yelled. "What do you mean, there's nothing you can do?"

"It doesn't matter," Chuck said, pushing past them. "Maybe this apocalypse is stopped, but there will be another one. Billions of souls burn in hell as we speak. It. Doesn't. Matter."

"Can't you do something about any of that?" Dean pressed, following him, with Castiel behind him.

"Don't you think if there were something I could do, I would have done it?!" Chuck spat, turning to face Dean on the stoop.

Dean's face hardened. "All right, cut the crap. You're god. You can do the right thing, and you just haven't."

Sam and Bobby arrived back on scene just in time for the finale.

"How dare you," Chuck said, and his voice was like thunder "Castigate me about doing the right thing. You know nothing of my existence. I am being itself, I am the right thing."

Dean was lifted on his feet and thrown into the house, and this time his landing was not gentle as he was slammed onto the hardwood floor next to Sam and Bobby.

Dean looked into his angry eyes, and beneath the righteous fury of God, he could see Chuck Shurley, struggling to do the right thing even though it felt like there was nothing to be done.

"Maybe we got off on the wrong foot," Dean said, "But from what I can tell, all you've done for the last three thousand years is hide."

"And what about the three billion before?"

Dean found he didn't have an answer for that.

"Did it occur to you that maybe harassing God is the wrong thing to do?" Bobby huffed.

Chuck's eyes snapped to Bobby. "Don't call me that."

Castiel's face was drawn. "I tried to tell him that."

"If we don't know what's going on, then tell us!" Dean said, climbing to his feet again.

Chuck scoffed. "You don't want to know. Hell, I don't want to know."

"What do you remember?" Sam pressed.

"I am not required to explain myself," Chuck said darkly, "Especially not to a bunch of mortals."

Bobby narrowed his eyes. "Now you listen here, boy."

When Bobby said boy, the air in the room froze.

"We are your family, do you hear? Or have you conveniently forgotten that, along with everything else? This is what family is for; to drag the truth out of you and slap some sense into you when you need it."

There was a moment of silence.

"I am not a boy," Chuck rumbled.

Bobby swallowed, then said "Well you're acting like it."

For one long moment, Bobby Singer and God had a staring competition.

And Bobby Singer won.

"What is it that you want?" Chuck said.

"For you to tell us what in the hell is going on!" Bobby said. "Where have you been, what are you doing, why did you fall, when did you fall, what do you plan to do about apocalypse round 1, all of it. We can't make it right unless we know what the hell is going on."

Chuck lowered his eyes, looking at his shoes. "I've never been made to feel ashamed by a man before."

"There's a first time for everything," Bobby said.

"If there's anyone who can make even god feel ashamed, it's Bobby Singer," Dean said sagely.

Chuck swallowed. "Essentially, I fell because if I committed suicide, the universe would have sank into impenetrable darkness."

Everyone's eyebrows climbed on their face.

"What?" Castiel whispered.

Dean nodded incredulously. "God is suicidal. What a thrilling turn of events. Tell us, God, why are you suicidal?"

"I'm sorry my emotional state is inconvenient for you," he almost spat.

Sam turned to Dean. "Dean, don't be a dick."

Dean sighed. "It's just… finding God was supposed to be good. We find god, wham-bam, Raphael is called off and everything goes back to being okay. But we never, ever get a good break."

"Why do you feel like this, Chuck," Sam asked more gently.

Chuck shrugged. "I am not really sure. My memories come and go. Nothing's really clear, except, you know, the sea of impenetrable darkness and misery."

Chuck was sitting on the couch, not paying any mind to the things going on around him. He was beneath his laptop, Dean was sitting around on the couch.

The pain in his head was growing, and it wasn't a headache pain so much as it was this great darkness on the edge of his vision, distracting him. It was dark, angry, and the longer Chuck sat there unmoving the more he felt it coil in his stomach.

He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

There was no use fighting it now.

There was no use fighting at all.

What did it matter?

Anger seeped into his bones. Chuck was never one for anger, but the feeling was big and foreign and felt much too large for his small body.

He'd given himself up for them, done everything for them, and they killed him for it.

How dare they?

With the thought came a rage that filled his limbs, made him want to reach out. Not to hit something, or throw something, but to reach out into the world around him and tear apart every atom.

He didn't notice the air crack with energy.

"Chuck?" Dean's voice, next to him, worried.

He didn't open his eyes, didn't move as the feelings settled into his bones.

"What's wrong?"

His eyes flew open and he jumped to his feet.

He could see Dean for what he really was, could see his soul inside his body, and for once the pure blue light didn't faze him. How dare he ask what was wrong, as if he didn't know what was wrong, as if it weren't his and every human's choices which created suffering.

He swept his arm, and Dean was thrown across the room into a bookshelf.

He narrowed his eyes in satisfaction.

"Bobby!" Dean yelled, and coughed up blood. "Cas!"

Castiel was there in an instant, a finger already on it's way to Dean's forehead as his arm reached out and grabbed Castiel from across the room. He held his fist up, and Castiel was unable to reach his charge.

"Father?" Castiel's worried voice rung across the room.

Bobby and Sam were quick to run, and he felt satisfied at the look of panic on their faces.

"Chuck, what are you doing?" Bobby carefully asked.

He raised his arm, and Dean was dragged up the bookshelf into a standing position. He was reminding them who He was, someone to be feared and someone to be respected, their Creator. Who were they to banish him, who were they to hurt him?

How dare they?

But as he opened his mouth to let loose the fury, it died. He couldn't say the words, because it wasn't true. He would let them hurt him a thousand times, let them kill him a thousand times more if it meant that one day they would see why he created them and why he loved them.

His arm dropped and so did Dean, and Castiel healed him in an instant.

Suddenly, Chuck came to, saw the men standing around in the room. "I… I didn't…"

"Chuck?" Sam asked, hopeful, uncertain.

He looked down at Sam, looked up at Sam, he didn't know, and Sam's eyes were on him, shining and eager, afraid and hopeful at the same time.

For a split second, he remembered.

He created humanity, he never wanted them to be afraid of him.

When he first brought his hand down in punishment, at the beginning, he hated it but didn't regret a damn thing because this is what it took.

Somewhere along the line, he stopped hating it. He was angry with them because they clamored for a god who would treat them like ants, and he hated himself because all those years ago, that's what he became.

The memories started coming one after another, of a great flood that killed everyone but Noah because when he looked into Noah's good eyes, something in his hard heart melted and he couldn't bear to drown him too. He remembered fires, and the burning earth, and arbitrary rules designed to keep his people in line, arbitrary rules they wanted. He remembered throwing them bodily into hell when they disobeyed, and with each person that went a part of him died too, because they could have had heaven if they'd just wanted it.

"Father, say something." Castiel's voice was broken.

The cry was so full of hope, so yearning. It was everything good about humanity. Everything he wasn't anymore.

"Don't call me that," Chuck said, backing up. "I lost the right."

"Why do you say that?" Came the brave voice of Sam Winchester. He admired the antichrist's tenacity, his determination. He had the passing thought that even the antichrist was a better man than he was.

Chuck looked down at his hands, remembered standing on a cliff and waving as the water descended from the sky. "I killed everyone once. Brought water down from the sky, swept everyone away."

Sam gestured, tilted his head in hope, and said "But you didn't kill Noah."

He laughed a dry, humorless laugh. The smile faded. "I couldn't do it to him." He turned to Sam. "His eyes were so bright, you know? Such hope for the world. So, I decided that if I couldn't have hope for humanity, his would have to do."

"I made The Law just so that humans would have to obey something. They were good laws, sure, you shouldn't eat pigs in unsanitary conditions because they tend to have tapeworms, but…" he rubbed his hands on his jeans. "I made The Law to force people to choose. Light or dark."

Sam sat down on the couch next to Chuck.

"But they chose darkness," Castiel's grave voice supplied.

Chuck looked up at them. "I don't remember much, but I remember the flood. Throwing people into hell when they disobeyed the law. You know I burnt people alive?"

Dean snorted, still wary where he was standing. "We've read the Bible."

Chuck made a noise. "I'm not sure the Bible's got everything right, but it got that right."

"So… do we need to be afraid you're going to smite us?" Too much humor in Dean's tone.

"I…" Chuck stood, looking at his now slightly shaking hands. "I need to go on a walk."

Chuck quickly crossed the space to the front door, slamming it shut behind him.

Dean bent over, putting his hands on his knees. "Lets not do that again," he wheezed.

"What did you do?" Sam exclaimed.

He must have been too emphatic, because immediately Dean rounded on Sam.

"Nothing! He was sitting there and then suddenly the air…" Dean waved around "Shimmered and made this loud cracking sound, so I figured it was him and asked what was wrong. I guess he was in a bad mood because the second I asked he threw me," gesturing to the bookshelf.

"Yeah, I was hoping this wouldn't happen," Bobby shook his head. "He is described as the jealous God, the wrathful God… I was just hoping a few thousand years had changed his perspective, since Chuck doesn't exactly seem wrathful."

Castiel tilted his head. "If he has to come into himself progressively, it could just be that this is a phase of his recovery."

"It's not a phase I like," Dean grunted.

"I am sure that if he accidentally kills you in a fit, he will bring you back."

"I don't want to have to be brought back!" Dean exclaimed. "I've been brought back one too many times."

Dean looked at Sam, and Sam just shrugged unhelpfully. "I like being brought back," Sam offered. "Heaven sucks and hell sucks worse."

"Here sucks," Dean grumbled. "That's the whole problem."

Bobby grumbled, "Good to know my house is that bad."

Dean opened his mouth to correct himself, but then Bobby smiled.

"Cranky old man," he said instead.