Heaven and Hell - Book 1, Castiel Fanfic

4.18 The Monster at the End of This Book - part 2

(Your POV)

Chuck pours himself a large whisky and gulps it down, then sets the glass on the kitchen sink. He turns around at us and groans. "Oh! Oh, you're still there." He says. "Yup." Dean says. "You're not a hallucination." Chuck says again. "Nope." I say, popping the 'p'.

"Well, there's only one explanation. Obviously I'm a god." He says, making me roll my eyes at him. "You're not a god." Sam says. "How else do you explain it? I write things and then they come to life. Yeah, no, I'm definitely a god. A cruel, cruel, capricious god. The things I put you through – The physical beatings alone." Chuck says, frowning at us.

"Yeah, we're still in one piece." I say shrugging. "I killed your father. I burned your mother alive. And then you had to go through the whole horrific deal again with Jessica." Chuck says to Sam. "Chuck..." he says.

"All for what? All for the sake of literary symmetry. I toyed with your lives, your emotions, for... entertainment." Chuck says. "You didn't toy with us, Chuck, okay? You didn't create us." I say, rolling my eyes.

"Did you really have to live through the bugs?" Chuck then asks frowning. "Yeah." Dean says. "What about the ghost ship?" he asks again. "Yes, that too." Dean says again. "I am so sorry. I mean, horror is one thing, but to be forced to live bad writing... if I would have known it was real, I would have done another pass." Chuck says.

"Chuck, you're not a god!" Dean yells, rolling his eyes. "We think you're probably just psychic." Sam says, shrugging his shoulders. "No. If I were psychic, you think I'd be writing? Writing is hard." Chuck says, making me smile at him. "It seems that somehow, you're just... focused on our lives." I say.

"Yeah, like laser-focused. Are you working on anything right now?" Dean asks. "Holy crap." Chuck says, his eyes becoming wide. "What?" Sam asks. "The, uh, latest book? It's, uh, it's kind of weird." Chuck says, picking up some pages. "Weird how?" I ask confused.

"It's very Vonnegut." Chuck says. "'Slaughterhouse-Five' Vonnegut or 'Cat's Cradle' Vonnegut?" Dean asks, making Sam and I look at him with wide eyes. "What?" Dean asks us defensively. "It's, uh, 'Kilgore Trout' Vonnegut. I wrote myself into it. I wrote myself, at my house... confronted by my characters." Chuck says, my eyebrows shooting up.

...

Sam is doing laundry as Dean and i sit nearby. Dean is reading Chuck's latest manuscript. "I'm sitting in a laundromat, reading about myself sitting in a laundromat reading about myself. My head hurts." Dean says, making me roll my eyes. "Then stop reading." I say, seeing him look over to me. "Then stop reading, Y/n says." Dean reads from the manual.

"Y/n frowned intensively, thinking if this was actually happening or if this was one of her weird dreams." Dean says again, making me roll my eyes again. "There's got to be something this guy's not telling us." Sam says. Sam turns to toss his darks into the machine and Dean continues reading.

"Sam tossed his gigantic darks into the machine. He was starting to have doubts about Chuck, about whether he was telling the whole truth." Dean reads, making my eyebrows shoot up again. "Stop it." Sam says.

"'Stop it,' Sam said." Guess what you do next." Dean asks with a smile. I lean over to Dean with a smile and start reading. "Sam turned his back on Dean and Y/n, his face brooding and pensive." I read, smiling at the sight in front of me.

"I mean, I don't know how he's doing it, but this guy is doing it. I can't see your face, but those are definitely your 'brooding and pensive' shoulders." Dean says, making me laugh even harder. Sam sighs, exasperated. I look down at the manuscript. "You just thought he was a dick." I say, seeing Sam turn around at me. "The guy's good." Sam says, making Dean frown.