Set after 4.17 and in 4.18. Chunks of dialogue taken from the show, courtesy of the Supernatural Wiki.


Hello Chuck

"Well that was a dick move." Jane announced after Dean and Sam finished their story, both men alternating between bites of fried ham and fried potatoes and onions. She and Bobby had been trying to find the pair for the past three weeks after no contact with the brothers. They had gone off on a hunt, minus Jane who had been down with the flu at the time, and then nothing.

After worrying themselves silly, and hassling everyone they could –it was a short list-, Dean and Sam had popped back into existence with a phone call. In Dean's case, there was also extensive apologizing and explaining to the worried wife.

They had gotten home, sat down to what Dean was worshipping as 'real food', and launched into the story.

"So, Zachariah, is a head honcho?" Jane drummed her fingertips on the table, sharing a look with Bobby. If this angel could block Sam and Dean's memories, what else could he do? She didn't think she wanted to know. The more she learned about angels, the more she was inclined to agree with what Pam had believed. Angels were conniving dicks.

"He's… something, higher than Castiel." Dean said after a moment, frowning slightly. They hadn't seen much of his angel since the incident with Alastair. If Castiel was popping in on Jane anymore, she wasn't saying. Given what Sam had told him about Jane ripping Cas a new hole or two though, he highly doubted they were doing the dream thing. Which suited him just fine.

"I don't like angels." She informed him.

"Tell me something I don't know, sweetheart."

"You describe Zachariah as if he's some smarmy business man and the others we've met so far… either douchebags or-"

"Bitches."

"Yeah, that."


"What's this?" Jane had been patiently waiting outside the comic book shop while Sam and Dean did their investigative thing. They had come out, both looking bemused and angry. Dean had slammed a book in her hands, Sam had kept walking, carrying a bag. "Uh… a book? Thanks?"

"Read it."

So she read it. She kept reading it on the ride back to the motel room, and then she began flipping through the others. Dean had joined her, they had taken over one of the beds, books strewn about, Sam on his laptop. Finally, when she emerged, she was just as bemused and angry. "Is this a joke?"

"No… this is freakin' insane." Dean sat up, folding his legs and rested his open book on her back, leaning over to frown down at the page. "How does this guy know this stuff?"

"No idea." Sam muttered from his place.

"Everything is in here, and I mean everything. I'm having sex in this book, full frontal…" He leered slightly. "With Jane."

"What?" She shrieked, rolling off the bed. "Are you serious?"

He held the book out.

"Oh my God…" Jane's mouth fell open, her cheeks staining a brilliant shade of red. "That is, was… private…"

"Whoever wrote it, he really nailed the bondage thing." Dean was nodding his head, ducking when the book came flying at him and cleared his throat. "How come we haven't heard of these things before?"

Jane sat back down and picked up the next book, flipping through it while Sam and Dean discussed the books and their origins. Her ears perked when she heard the 'Sam's Girls' and 'Dean's Girls', looking at the brother curiously.

"What's a slash fan?"

Jane spotted the uncomfortable look on Sam's face and shook her head, beginning to smile.

"Sam slash Dean. As in together." Sam explained, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Together together?"

She was giggling now.

"They do know we're brothers right? And I'm happily married, to a woman."

"Yeah… speaking of," Sam shot Jane a look promising payback for the giggles. "She's got her own tiny little base in this pond of crazy, and some serious haters."

"Wait, I have haters?" Jane got up, again, and walked over to peer over Sam's shoulder. "Oh Jesus… spend one night with your brother-in-law while your husband is in Hell and everyone's a critic."

"Wait, what?" Dean stepped back, eyes narrowing.

Sam and Jane stared at each other for a long moment before looking at him. "I thought you knew?"

"I knew you two seen each other… you were the only one he'd talk to then." Dean said slowly, willing himself not to jump to conclusions. Just to be on the safe side, he tucked his hands in his pockets. "Explain, quickly."

Jane floundered helplessly.

Sam spoke up, knowing he was probably going to get jacked in the jaw. When he was done, emphasizing all the while that he had been a serious dick, drunk and angsty, and that nothing had happened besides Jane threatening his physical well-being, he waited for it.

Dean was surprisingly calm, thinking about Sam and Jane's relationship, and… reluctantly, he admitted he might be a bit… over-concerned about it. That and now… if he had doubts, he could read the books and find out the truth! He grinned. "We're cool."

"We're cool?" Sam had not been expecting that.

"Oh yeah, we're cool."

Jane cocked an eyebrow.

He just smiled at her.


"I'm Dean. This is Sam. That beauty is Jane. You've been writing about us."

Jane waved at the author, Chuck Shurley, from her place behind Sam.

Chuck closed the door.

Sighing, Dean rang the doorbell again.

In less than twenty minutes, Dean had Chuck drinking, the poor man. Jane had watched the entire interaction between the three men curiously. Chuck seemed… very nervous, twitchy, and not the 'unreliable, shady' kind of twitch. More like he was waiting for someone to slap him down. She felt bad for the guy when he turned around, a healthy measure of what looked like whiskey in a glass, and looked lost.

"You're still there." He said weakly, glancing between Sam and Dean.

"Yup."

"You're not a hallucination."

"Nope."

"Well…" Chuck sighed, beginning to shake his head. "There's only one explanation."

"Oh?" Jane felt a little bad when he seemed shocked that she spoke.

"I'm a god."

Sam was taken aback by that. "You… you are not a god."

"Yes, I am, how else do you explain this? I write things and they come true! Yeah, I'm definitely a god. A cruel, cruel capricious god…" He seemed to become wrought with guilt. "The things I put you all through… Hell… dying… bear attacks…"

"Could I have a drink, please?" Jane interrupted, suddenly feeling like she could do with a whiskey as well.

"Oh, yes…" Chuck handed her his own glass, turning to retrieve the bottle. "I killed your parents… all your parents… I'm-"

She swallowed it down.

"The deal with Jessica…"

Sam twitched.

"And for what? All for the sake of literary symmetry?"

"Chuck, you're not a god!"