Chuck Shurley yawned as he tapped the keys of his keyboard, watching the letters appear on the black page on the screen of his computer. His brown hair was messy, and his black rimmed glasses were sitting on the tip of his nose as he read over what he had typed. "… soulful glances. Dean reached out and pressed the doorbell with determina-" He paused as he heard his doorbell give a slightly crackling buzz. Standing from the chair, he pulled his blue, white and gold striped robe closed and moved to the door, pulling it open and peering through. "Can I help you?"
"Are you Chuck Shurley? The Chuck Shurley who wrote the Supernatural books?" Ella asked him.
Chuck tilted his head, looking her and the others over. "Maybe… who are you all?"
"I'm Ella, this is my sister Oshea. And that's Sam and Dean. The people you've been writing about," Ella replied.
Chuck stared a moment then gave a little smile as he backed away from the door and shut it. Oshea glanced to her sibling then stepped forward and pressed the doorbell again until Chuck pulled the door open again. He sighed, "Look, guys, I'm very flattered… by your enthusiasm and all. It's always nice to hear from a fan, but I strongly suggest you all get a life." He offered another little smile as he started to yet again close the door.
Dean placed his hand on the door, stopping him from closing it. "We have a life, you've been using it to write your books," He said as he started to step inside the home.
Chuck's eyes widened slightly and he stepped backwards a little clumsily. Sam followed Dean inside with Ella and Oshea close behind. "We just want to know how you're doing it."
"I'm not doing anything," Chuck said quickly, backing into his living room.
Oshea crossed her arms over her chest. "Are you a hunter?"
Chuck shook his head. "What…? No… I'm a writer!"
"Then how do you know so much about demons and toulpas and changelings?" She said, arching a brow. Chuck staggered back, stepping into his couch and falling onto it. He looked up at them and frown deeply.
"Is this some kind of Misery thing?" He said weakly. "Oh it is isn't it? It's a Misery thing."
"No, it's not a Misery thing, believe me, we are not fans," Dean said, rolling his eyes.
"I'm Sam and he's Dean." Sam said slowly.
"And we're Oshea and Ella." Oshea added, gesturing toward herself and her sister.
Chuck shook his head. "They are fictional characters! I made them up! They are not real!"
Chuck blinked in surprise as he stared down into the trunk full of various guns and other weapons. It all looked so familiar, the car, the weapon's compartment. He swallowed and pointed down into the trunk, looking up at Dean. "Are those real guns?"
"Yep, and that's real rocksalt," Ella said.
"And those are real fake ID's," Dean continued, pointing at the box filled with various badges.
Chuck nodded, looking a little frightened as he gave the group a nervous smile. "I have to hand it to you all, you really are my number one fans… I think I have some posters in the house." He said, whirling and starting quickly back toward the ramshackle building.
"Wait," Ella said loudly, walking after Chuck. Sam quickly followed after her,
"Stop, Chuck!"
Chuck turned around and lifted up his hands in surrender. "Please don't hurt me…"
"How much do you know? Do you know about the angels, and the demons breaking the seals?" Ella asked. "About the angels killing each other?"
"How do you know all that?" He said with a frown, his brows furrowing.
"Question is how do you know all of that?" Oshea said, moving to stand beside of Dean.
"Because I wrote it?"
"You kept writing?" Sam said, arching a brow.
Chuck nodded. "Yeah… I did, even after the publisher went bankrupt."
Dean sighed. "Well, nice to meet you. I'm Dean Winchester and this is my brother Sam. That's Oshea and Ella Blackwood."
Chuck looked between them in confusion. "Last names were never mentioned in the books… I never told… anyone about that. I didn't even write that down…"
Dean leaned against the doorframe leading into Chuck's writing area, watching with slight amusement as Chuck was in the kitchen, turned with his back to the group as he downed another shot glass. Chuck closed his eyes and wrinkled his nose as he swallowed the burning liquid down and he released his breath out in a sigh, opening his eyes and turning around only to see the four of them still there. "Ah… you're still here. You're not a hallucination."
"Nope," Oshea said matter of factly.
Chuck nodded. "Well there is only one explanation. I'm obviously a god."
Dean scoffed. "You're not a god."
"I write stuff down and it happens! I'm definitely a god." Chuck said, bobbing his head up and down. "I'm a god… a cruel, cruel capricious god." Chuck said with a tiny smile that immediately faded into an expression of horror. "The things I put you through… the things I put you through… the physical beatings alone… I killed your father… I burned your mothers alive… and your little brother… I had him drowned…" He glanced to Oshea and Ella then looked away. "You had to go through the whole… horrific deal again with Jessica and for what? The sake of literary symmetry… I toyed with your lives… your emotions…"
Ella rolled her eyes. "You didn't toy with us, you didn't create us, Chuck."
Chuck paused. "Did… you really have to live through the bugs?"
"Yes," Sam said quietly.
"And… the ghost ship?"
"Yes…"
Chuck shook his head. "I am… so sorry… horror is one thing, but to have to live bad writing? If I would have known it was real, I would have done another pass…"
"You're not a god," Ella said with a little groan of annoyance. "We just think you're psychic."
"If I was psychic do you think I would be writing?" He said, arching a brow as he looked at her.
"It seems somehow you focused on our lives… like laser focused," Dean said.
"Are you working on anything right now?" Ella said out of curiosity.
"Oh… holy crap," Chuck said, sinking down into the chair at his computer. He moved his glasses over and pulled out the printed pages of his newest work. "The next book… it's uh… kinda weird… I, you know, wrote myself into it, being confronted by my own characters…"