God Knows

Chuck Shurley moved into his apartment six years ago. He thinks.

Chuck Shurley's parents died when he was a child. He assumes.

Everybody hates Chuck. That's why he never has anyone to call.

Chuck Shurley is a writer. He has nothing to write about.

Chuck Shurley is God. Sometimes, he forgets.

When he remembers, he talks to Joshua.

He beams himself up to heaven, to his favourite part of the garden. To him, it is Eden before Adam and Eve messed it all up. He's added a bench. God sits, and Joshua finds him.

"Father?"

"Sit and talk with me a bit."

Joshua sits down. He never makes eye contact. God doesn't mind. Chuck would hate it.

"I haven't seen you in some time."

"What have missed?"

"Oh, some goings-on with the king of hell and his henchmen. I'm sure it is being handled."

Chuck lives alone with his computer. Sometimes he dreams fancifully, but when he awakens, he's already forgotten the night's adventures. He writes snippets of stories and poems to women he's never met. He thinks about fire, and a baby in its cradle. He pours himself a glass of whiskey. He takes a sip and suddenly, he needs to go to the garden.

"Back again so soon, are we?"

"Who is Sam Winchester?"

"He is the vessel, with his brother, Dean."

God knows the story all too well. Brothers to consume brothers. It is destined to be.

"How are my children?"

"They are...torn."

"And their faith?"

"Worn." Joshua frowns. His eyes remain averted. "Father, where have you been?"

Chuck had never published an entire novel before. The characters were overly frank, and the stories were practically soap operas, but his agent was obsessed, and the fans wanted more. The Winchesters and the impala were his new breadwinners. Things were going well. Chuck had money in the bank and food in the fridge. The stories were endless. His imagination was running wild, and he could write. Always more and more stories, every day. He's a good writer.

"Is this all part of your plan, Father?"

"My plan for whom?"

After all, every living thing is nothing but another story from the mind of God.

"Father, Dean Winchester is in Hell."

Ah yes, the vessel. A good man, with a good soul...but that didn't matter. His body was the necessity, and no good to Michael if it was stuck down there.

"Well then, get him out."

"I can't do that on my own, Father."

"Send your brother."

"Which one?"

God is sick of questions. He leaves. Joshua sends anyone who will listen to the word of God. Castiel is the most attentive. God is not surprised.

Then again, he never really is.

Chuck doesn't write much anymore. That is to say, he writes all the time, whatever comes to him. No one reads it. Maybe he doesn't think they'll care, or that they'll like it. The series is complete. It feels finished, so why shouldn't it be? He writes only for himself.

Then the doorbell rings. Familiar faces, predictable tales. Sam and Dean Winchester feel like his own children. Not that Chuck was ever a father.

"I feel...removed."

"Yes."

"Perhaps I should come home."

"That would make many of your children very happy."

"Would you be happy, Joshua?"

"My happiness doesn't matter. I have everything I need."

"You are grateful, Joshua."

"The way you intended me to be."

"You are far more than what I created, Joshua."

Chuck is terrified of everything. The things these people do, what they can do, and what they make others do...it's too much. Chuck never becomes brave. He avoids conflict, and seeks out peace in his stories, where he used to find it. The stories are all true now. Too true. It's the end of the world.

"It's the end of the world."

"So soon? I forgot."

"It may not come to pass."

God frowns. This isn't part of the plan. Joshua continues:

"The Winchesters are resourceful."

"And Castiel?"

"Castiel is...frustrated."

Castiel is ungrateful.

"Will you take care of this for me?"

"Yes, Father. What would you have me do? Guarantee our apocalypse?"

Chuck dances with Becky. She is quite pretty. She sings along as Que Sera Sera plays on the stereo. She is a terrible singer.

"If it is to be, it will come to pass."

Chuck kind of likes the Winchesters. They've always been good to him. Castiel keeps him safe. Chuck appreciates that, but he never thanks any of them. For some reason, he doesn't feel the need. He's impressed by their diligence, and inspired by their quest for goodness. They are the stuff that great stories are written about, and they deserve to be remembered.

Chuck writes their story, so that others can remember it.

` Then, one day, Chuck pours himself a glass of whiskey. He takes a sip, and God remembers.

"They are good, aren't they, Joshua?"

"They try to be, I think."

Free will: God's greatest gift to man, used with elegance by the Winchesters. Used with ignorance, but profound intentions, by Castiel.

"It is considerable."

"They have changed the story. What will come to pass now that the world lives on?"

God suddenly finds himself grinning. He is no longer the writer. This is a story for him to discover. He answers the way Chuck would:

"God knows."