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"A forgotten god stopping by to survey the scene"

(lyrics from Jukebox the Ghost's "The Stars")

"Sho," Adam Milligan said around a mouthful of cold, light green gelato (God knows it's his favorite dessert, and apparently, that includes Chuck). "Whajoo want me to do for you, again? I mean, what exactly."

Chuck grinned back. Right, He thought, I created Adam to be a little get-down-to-business smartass who declares questions instead of asking them, and I also created him to be reluctantly amiable when fed. Ha, now I remember. "I was just wondering, since you're here, and well, kind of in this position, if you could—"

"—wait, what kind of position? A powerful one, a sexual one, what."

The newly-retired writer tried and failed to clean His glasses, but then, deciding He didn't really need them for anything other than typing up stories, He got up from their table and tossed them into the waters of Venice. The lenses turned into a set of big, gaping eyes and the rest of the frame morphed into the body of a tiny, black goldfish. Chuck smiled. Big plans for that fish. No one else in the outdoor restaurant turned His way save for Adam.

When He came and sat back down, He continued. "More like a pretty knowledgeable position, actually, though you are pretty influential when it comes to, you know, the Plan."

"Eat your Plan," quipped Adam, moodily scooping up more sweet cream. "My mom's dead because of your Plan." Chuck looked down, looking a bit guilty about this, and Adam blinked. How could He feel guilty about something He knew was going to happen all along? And for that matter, everyone's been dying since humanity began, meaning a significant portion of those dead were innocent people, and a smaller (but still significant) portion of dead, innocent people have died deaths they didn't deserve. Adam would know.

Where did He get the freaking gall to pretend to care about Adam's mother just to appease Adam? And more importantly, what the hell could Adam be holding over God's head to make him matter so much? Instead of biting at Him some more, Adam chose to sit, and stare, and stop eating his dessert.

"Yeah, really sorry about that, actually. Really, you have no idea. But, you see, this is about letting you know. Giving you an idea. About me, and what I've been up to, to show anyone who'll believe me that yeah, I do care, I care a lot."

Adam continued to stare. "Are… are you about to tell me the secret of the universe?"

Chuck chuckled, and it sounded nervous, but that was probably because Chuck sounded nervous pretty much all the time, regardless whether or not He really felt that way. "No, because I don't think there really is a secret. Of the universe, I mean. At the end of the day, it's all just stuff you wanna find out, not secrets. Like the way the cosmos works, or what really happened to Amelia Earhart. If you dig hard enough, the answers are there, no one's really keeping them from you."

He sighed a bit, reaching for a glass of clear stuff, and Adam couldn't tell if it was alcohol or just water. Either way, it seemed to soothe Chuck. "Hm," he said thoughtfully around another bite.

"Unless you're talking about me, of course. I guess I am kind of a secret. But I'll be dying soon, so no more secrets. I mean, I'm not gonna blab it out to everyone and anyone, but it's gonna be out there, you know? And I was hoping you could help. This is gonna be more like a… a report, focused on the secret of not the universe, but humanity. I hope that's more… clear?"

Adam bit his lip and looked down. "You know," he began, "I was actually working on my college dissertation. The night I watched my mom get eaten, the night I died, I was like, half-done with the thing."Why on earth would I want to do something for you? was left unsaid, as was, You created my mom, and John, and me, but you also created vengeful ghouls. And I'll never forgive you for that. And I don't really care about your no-so-secrets, or whatever, you ass. But there are just some things you can't say to God outright, so you have to kind of hint at what you mean instead.

Chuck blinked softly in return. "Just hear me out. And you can decide whether or not to write down what I say. It's just that, anyone else would be no good for the job. I need someone realistic enough to write about me without making excuses for me. If I were suddenly talking to any old person, devout or not, they'd either ignore me, or give in too quickly once I proved to them who I was. And even if I asked someone who hated me, they still wouldn't really know what you know. What Death taught you, it's kind of priceless. You probably even know things I don't."

"So what, you want me to write The Gospel According to Chuck, Christ's Drunk-ass Dad?" He finished his ice cream then, and his bowl instantly refilled, only this time the gelato was pink and had little sugar crystals on top.

Chuck shrugged and sipped at His glass some more. "Not really. I think I've grown out of that whole gospel-style, 'Thou shalt, blah blah, thy judgments, O Lord.' I tried to approach the Winchester Gospel like a human, but I guess I just can't write." He shrugged again and sipped again. "I was thinking more like a memoir."

The boy across from him tipped his head forward, confused. "You know those things aren't a hundred percent, right?"

"Well, I'm gonna try my best to tell the truth, but I'm not gonna tell you or anyone else everything about humanity. What'd be the fun in that? I'd spoil too many surprises, and then I'd never get on the New York Times Best Seller List."

"Okaaay, so what. Is it supposed to be entertaining, a kind of I Am Not Myself These Days? Or gritty, like Running With Scissors?"

Chuck squinted at His reluctant companion. "Why only memoirs about gay guys in your mental library?"

"Why not?"

Chuck laughed, and He sounded less nervous, more happy, like He didn't get to talk to His people very often and He found that He actually liked to. "No, not like that. I guess realistic, like… Life's That Way. Have you read it? I heard it's very good."

Adam shook his head, and made a mental note. After all, how often does someone get a book recommendation from God himself? Even if He is kind of an old, salty dick.

"Or maybe something a bit funnier than that," He continued. "Or maybe sadder? I don't know, I want people to be moved, I'm just not sure which way."

The boy 'hmm'ed and ate some pink stuff, as if it would give him some insight. "Who says it can't be both? Who says it can't be every which way possible? This is the supposed story of humanity, after all. It has everything. Just not so much mystery, since I guess you wanna keep that out, right? No spoilers?"

Chuck nodded, thinking that this was good, this was great, Adam's considering it, even just a little. There's hope.

So then and there, in a little eatery in Venice, Chuck and Adam drew up a list of possible titles for God Almighty's up-and-coming memoir:

God is a Gay Guy (and Other Words that Start with 'G')

God is a Sexually Confused Guy

God Likes Tits Very Much, Thank You; It's the Nether Regions that Creep Him Out Somewhat (Which is Ironic, Considering Said Regions Create Babies, Much Like He Creates… Well, Everything)

The Journal of One Chuck Shurley: A God in His Own Mind, as well as in the Minds of Those Pure and Devout, and Apparently Also Sarah Palin (Heavily Edited and Annotated by Adam Milligan, Official Keeper of God's Words and Whatever Else he Keeps)

The Crap in Your Life is Actually God's Plan, So Calm Down Already

Don't Follow God's Plan; It'll Only Get You Killed Several Times Over

Don't Follow God's Plan; It'll Only Get You and Your Mother Eaten by Ghouls

Don't Follow God's Plan; It'll Only Get You Royally Screwed Over by Completely Mental and Very Sadistic Angels

'Carver Edlund' is a Dick Who Can Go Eat It When I'm Done Writing This Out

God is Actually on Team Free Will, Although He's Totally in the Closet About It

Goddammit, I Said I'm Not Gay, and Other Children's Tales

Free Will FTW, and Other Short Stories

In Response to Your Prayers (Created by Chuck Shurley, but Written out by Adam Milligan Because God is, in Reality, Kind of a Terrible Writer)

When Chuck had finished whining and when Adam had stopped laughing so hard, the former-author and dying God informed His new prophet: "You know, that last one's not quite so terrible."

A/N: Oh, God. I should not be writing this. Really, I promised I'd keep on with my Tron story, and I'm not even done planning this out fully, but. I dunno. I just started reading Slaughterhouse-Five (which doesn't really have much to do with what' I'm writing) and it all just came out, much like very literary vomit. Oh God, oh God, the mess. I'm sorry, because I'm posting this up here even though I know I won't update it for a while because I haven't finished planning it all out. And I've learned, over the years, that if I don't plan out my stories, they usually turn into pure bloody crap. Oh, God.

Um. So. With that out of the way, I guess I present to you In Response to Your Prayers. And it is going to be one vicious mind-fuck, I feel you should know.

Also! The memoirs I mentioned above are really very good, I totally recommend them, as long as you're not too squeemish about gayness. (If you are, then you're not gonna like this story much, ha!) I haven't actually read Life's That Way yet, though, but I read an excerpt on Barnes & Noble and nearly cried, totally on the top of my wishlist now. LTW is actually written by SPN's own Jim Beaver, the character Bobby Singer himself! Dunno if anyone caught that little tidbit, so there ya go!