Author's note: Thanks so much to Larkafree, Maknatuna, Maddy Love Castiel, Keefer, RachelPhobia, FireChildSlytherin5, PercyJfan1802, Sapphire Ookami, Fallen's child, CherylB1964, random yet loveable, eiahlaie, Pizzapig, kb18142, FlowerChild13, XxZessxX, Impala67-Ilana, keacdragon, Chichi-10018, baileylovesyou0400, In-The-Shadow-Of-the-Robot, Improbabile, jazzy2may and Soulless666 for last chapter's reviews.

And now for a taste of things to come...

Chuck Shurley had learned what his purpose in life was two years earlier. Apparently, Chuck had never been meant to be the author of a, not really successful and discontinued series of books, he was a prophet of the Lord. Finding out that everything he had written about had actually happened to all too real people had been a shock, even though it explained a lot about how Chuck's characters had never felt quite like his own. The writer knew that you had to give your characters a bit of a life of their own to be able to write about them, so they were more than cardboard cutouts, but they had always been too independent from any kind of plot Chuck's imagination could have come up with. He could have hardly ever imagined Sam's bout with Ruby on his own, he couldn't even put it in the books. Of course, there was also the fact that basically everything he had ever written had come to him in a dream. Before Chuck had met the Winchesters for the first time, he had assumed that he was just going crazy. Strangely enough, finding out the truth hadn't been that much better than the insanity option.

Knowing what was going on had undeniably changed Chuck's life, but it had done nothing to make the side-effects of having all those visions any more bearable. That was what aspirin and alcohol were for. That Chuck's self-medication regularly made him pass out somewhere around the house in the middle of the day, was something the writer could live with.

Gabriel found the prophet surrounded by papers and mostly empty bottles. The fact that Chuck was snoring softly, while lying on his couch in a striped bathrobe, a white shirt and boxer shorts with hearts on them, was highly amusing to the archangel.

Gabriel's inner trickster just couldn't let an opportunity like this pass, of course. The archangel pulled a can of whipped cream out of thin air and coated the prophet's palm with a thick layer, all the while being careful not to wake the man. After Gabriel was content with the amount of whipped cream on Chuck's hand, he made the spray can disappear and held a long feather instead. The archangel grinned and started to tickle the prophet's nose.

Chuck scrunched up his nose a couple of times, frowning deeply in his sleep, before he finally brought up his hand to scratch the itching spot. He awoke with a start, as soon as the whipped cream hit his face.

"Morning, Prophet Shurley," Gabriel greeted the human in a chipper tone. The archangel offered a package of wet wipes he had snapped into existence to the prophet with an innocent smile, before he went on talking, "I trust you know who I am."

The second part of this chapter can be found at the continuation of this story, titled "46 days later"