Chapter Text
It was strange getting such a vague explanation from Sam Winchester as to why you had to come to Kansas now. Of course you didn’t hesitate, packing up what little you had dumped on the twin bed parallel to your own before checking out of the shabby motel before setting out on the road. You hadn’t seen, or even heard from the Winchester brothers in years and were curious as to what they needed you for. You figured you were needed for just your average hunt that happened to leave the boys at a road block, forcing them to reach out for help. And you were right. More or less.
Upon arriving at the given address, you were delighted to see Dean leaning against his car. Your own steed pulled up beside him and you cast a smile his way before cutting the ignition and hopping out. You practically skipped around the front end of your car, Dean meeting you halfway. You tossed your arms around his neck and held him tight as his own arms snaked around your lower back, giving you an equally firm squeeze.
“It’s good to see you,” you said, turning to give him a peck on the cheek before pulling away.
“It’s great to see you too.” Relief filled his voice as he smiled tiredly.
You frowned. “So, what’s wrong? Why did I get such a vague call from your brother?”
Dean scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Everything’s kinda gone to shit recently.”
“And you need my help?” you guessed, a sympathetic smile ghosting on your lips.
“Well.” A pause. “That’s one of the reasons we called.”
“But…?” you encouraged.
“But, that’s not the main reason.” Dean smiled sheepishly.
You raised a brow in silent questioning, but Dean just shook his head and turned towards the large metal door behind him, signaling for you to follow.
He paused in front of the door and turned to you. “Now, there’s someone in here that you may or may not be happy to see. I just need you to stay calm and rational no matter how you feel. Just let him explain himself before you go off the rails.”
You scoffed. “Since when have I ever ‘gone off the rails’?”
Dean shot you a knowing glance, amusement edged into the corners of his eyes.
“Fine,” you huffed. “I promise.” And you were being sincere; however you didn’t realize how hard it would be to keep that promise.
Dean smiled and opened the door. “She’s here,” he called out.
You trailed behind Dean as he descended the stairs, scanning the room, finding it difficult to take everything in. The beautiful room was forgotten, however, when you spotted a certain mop of hair hanging over an open book. You grinned and rushed passed Dean on the steps, barely giving Sam time to stand before launching yourself at him.
A surprised grunt escaped the taller hunter’s lips, but he quickly wrapped his arms around you in greeting. “It’s good to see you too, [Y/N],” he laughed.
You pulled away, grinning like an idiot. “It’s been too long, hasn’t it?”
“I’d say it has.”
You froze. That voice was familiar, but you couldn’t place your finger on who it belonged to. It was an old voice, one that you hadn’t heard in what felt like forever. Although your brain didn’t remember, your heart seemed as if it did as you could hear it pounding in your ears. Uneasiness settled in your stomach as you clenched your jaw. The voice was high and sweet and a little bit squeaky; it was beautiful and you couldn’t deny that you had been in love with that voice years ago; that you were still in love with to this day. Your heart clenched as your brain caught up. Tears pooled in the corners of your eyes and you squeezed them shut.
You took a deep breath and turned, opening your eyes slowly to reveal the one you were desperately hoping was not there despite your heart praying otherwise. The dark curly hair and scruffy beard made your heart jump to your throat and your stomach do flips. But not the good, excited kind; more like the terrified, I’m going to throw up right here right now kind.
You unclenched your jaw, opening your mouth to say something, but you found no words. Instead, you found your feet leading you forward, towards those blue eyes. Your brain screamed, but your heart screamed louder. You could imagine your brain huffing as it settled for what your heart wanted, but not fully. You clenched your fists at your sides, and once close enough; you raised your right one, and punched him. You punched him with all of your might; backing the force with all of the pain and anger and dread he had put you though throughout the years.
You pulled your hand back, flexing it and rubbing your now sore knuckles. You heard your name being called along with his name. And footsteps getting closer. You steeled yourself for the hand on your arm, but it never came. He had raised his free hand, the other clutching his probably broken nose, and waived it at the Winchesters. He stood straight, removing his now bloody hand from his even bloodier nose and turned to the boys. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice nasally, before turning to you. “I deserved that.
“You two can go,” he said, turning back to the hunters and smiling cheekily. “I think I can handle myself.”
The brothers shared a glance and nodded before leaving the room. You watched them go, and as soon as they left the room, you turned back to him, you turned back to Chuck.
“Please, let me explain,” Chuck said.
“Explain?” you snapped. “Explain what, exactly?”
“I had no choice,” he replied simply. “I had to leave.”
“You ‘had no choice’,” you mocked, scoffing and turning away slightly, arms crossed.
An unsettling silence filled the air.
You turned back, lowering your arms to your sides and looking up at him lamely. “I thought you had been kidnapped or—or died or something!” You clenched your fists, fighting back the tears that begged to spill. “I—I thought… I thought I had done something wrong. I thought you had left because of me.” The tears stung your eyes as the slipped free.
He was staring. Why was he just staring? His eyes bore into your own, searching for something. It was a staring contest and you wanted to win, but you were tired; too tired to play these games. You cast your gaze to the floor, sniffling and wiping at your eyes aggressively.
Then, a hand rested on your upper arm and you jerked slightly, glancing up to meet Chuck’s gaze once again. “You’ve done nothing wrong,” he smiled encouragingly. “In fact: you’ve done everything right; you’ve done everything perfectly.”
“Then why leave and not tell anyone?”
“Because I had to.”
Anger bubbled in your stomach. “’I had to’ isn’t good enough,” you growled. “Tell me: why didn’t you have a choice? Was someone holding you at gunpoint or something? Why, Chuck. Why?” You were fed up with this shit. What game was he playing at anyway?
Chuck sighed, “I had to let things run their course. I was too involved.”
“Too involved?!”
Confusion flashed in his eyes before he caught onto you, his eyes widening. “Now that’s not wh—“
“You think you were too involved? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? What, so I wasn’t good enough? Being so-called ‘perfect’ isn’t good enough? For God’s sake, make up your mind!”
Chuck fell silent, looking off past your shoulder, thinking about the words you had just chucked at him. And then he came to a conclusion: “Maybe that was what I was trying to say; I was too involved. You, [F/N} {L/N], are too good for me. I kept things from you for your sake, for my sake, for the world’s sake.”
“What are you talking about?” you asked.
Chuck focused his gaze back on you, those blue eyes you had fallen in love with all those years ago burning deep into you. He snapped his fingers and a bright white light glowed from the small gash across his nose. You looked on with amazement and horror and surprise and a bunch of other feelings that you couldn’t describe. When the glowing died down, there stood an unharmed Chuck, his nose looking as it had before you socked him in the face.
“Are you… an angel?”
“—God?”
You spoke in unison and oh, God—no; oh, Chuck—you wish you hadn’t. Chuck was God?
You stared, awestruck and a bit hurt. You two had grown so close when you had first met; you’ve shared so much with each other. And yet he probably never even considered telling you that he was God. Sure, the whole angel thing was still relatively new and it may have taken some convincing back then, but you would’ve been fine with it, right? Maybe.
Your jaw clenched and you turned away from him. “Sam? Dean?” you called out as you maneuvered around Chuck to venture deeper into the bunker.
You found the boys it the kitchen, talking quietly with each other. When you entered the room, they turned to you. You felt a presence behind you and realized Chuck had trailed behind you, so there the two of you stood in the doorway, you still red in the face and Chuck presenting an unreadable expression. With his breath on your neck, you shivered and told yourself you hated him and that you wanted nothing to do with him ever again—what a childish thought. You knew that you could never hate him, not after what the two of you had shared. And there was definitely no way out of interacting with him if he was mixed into the mess the boys were in.
“So,” Dean said, “did you two kiss and make up already?”