A/N: Look, I've written something! Hopefully updates will be more frequent now that the year's almost over and I'll finally have some free time on my hands! Anway, here's the moment you've all been waiting for: CHUCK!

"It always tickles my pickle to know there are still loyal readers out there!"

Melanie wrinkled her nose at the odd phrasing as she, Sam, and Dean followed the almost unsettlingly enthusiastic publisher to her office. None of the three hunters took the seats that were offered to them as Carly Winemore, the self-proclaimed best paranormal publisher in the tri-state area, leaned against her desk and offered them an eager smile. Melanie shifted from one foot to the other, long past ready to finally locate the elusive Supernatural author.

She, Sam, and Dean spent the entire morning trying to uncover the true identity of Carver Edmund, having searched everything from city records to internet forums. But as dedicated as his fanbase was, none of Edmund's readers had even the slightest clue as to who he really was. Determined to give the unexpectedly mysterious writer a piece of his mind, Dean had insisted upon contacting the publishing company once their internet digging had proved fruitless.

But they hadn't counted on the publisher being overtly and really quite worryingly obsessed with both Edmund and his work.

Ever the voice of reason, Sam tried for the third time to sway the woman whose multicolored hair was probably meant to look 'edgy' but was really more reminiscent of Cruella Deville.

"Look, we just want our article on Edmund's writing process to be as authentic as possible. If you could just tell us how to contact him, we could-"

"I'm sorry but I just can't betray Carver's trust like that. He confided in me, he trusted me with his secret, and I swore I would take it to my grave. I would die before I told you who he really is," Carly melodramatically proclaimed, and Melanie bit back a smile as she watched Dean hold back an eye-roll.

Alright, so if rational arguments weren't going to get them anywhere, Melanie supposed it was time to play the fangirl card.

"Which book is your favorite?" Melanie piped up without warning, and the blatant lack of segue didn't seem to phase the woman at all as her mood visibly brightened.

"Oh I absolutely adored 'Mystery Spot'," Carly gushed as she approached Melanie with an excited little bounce. "I just loved the juxtaposition between the hilarity of Dean's deaths and the immense sorrow Sam endured while trying to end the cycle. It was just so tragic," she continued, blinking back tears.

"Which others did you like?" Melanie asked, subtly taking a few steps back out of the publisher's office and into the outer sitting room. Carly followed her without a second thought, taking Melanie by the elbow and leading her to one of the couches. Clearly managing a publishing company still didn't provide her with enough outlets for her Supernatural obsession.

"I'd have to say 'The Usual Suspects' is my next favorite," she began, and Melanie offered her an encouraging nod as she glanced over Carly's shoulder. Back in the office, Sam and Dean had taken advantage of the distraction she'd created to log onto Carly's computer. After a few minutes of typing, Sam gave Melanie a thumbs up, signaling that they'd obtained the information they needed.

"...because I can never tell if it's just my kink for Dean being in jail influencing my opinion, or if I just really like the shapeshifter storyline, you know? It's just so hard to-"

"It really is nice to see that the people involved in the publishing process are so...dedicated," Melanie offered in parting as she rose to her feet, and Carly blinked in surprise as if she couldn't fathom anyone wanting to end a Supernatural-centric conversation.

"I, uhm, yes. Well sorry I couldn't have been more helpful," Carly told her sincerely as she stood as well.

"Don't worry about it, we'll find another way to write the article," Melanie told her, giving Dean a just a minute look as he gestured towards the door. This woman seemed quite lonely, and Melanie felt a bit like a jerk for leading her on, even if only for a few minutes. "Carver's lucky to have a friend like you," she added, and the look of pure elation on Carly's face was enough to dissuade Melanie's guilt.

"So, what'd you guys find?" Melanie inquired a few minutes later as the three hunters piled into the impala.

"Dude named Chuck Shurley," Dean announced as he turned the key in the ignition. "Luckily he doesn't live too far from here; I'll have my vengeance soon enough."

Dean had barely put the car in park before he leapt from the car and bounded up the front steps to bang on Chuck's front door. Melanie and Sam exited the vehicle like normal human beings, and approached the entryway just as a small bearded man in a dirty bathrobe opened the door.

"Look, for the last time, I'm not interested in hearing about the good news of Our Lord and-"

"Hello, I'm Dean Winchester," Dean interrupted harshly.

"And I'm Sam Winchester," Sam added.

"And I'm just a fan," Melanie pitched in with an excited little wave.

"You've been writing books about our lives, and we want to know why," Sam continued.

Chuck's eyes widened at their introductions, but his face quickly took on an expression of haggard apathy.

"I thought I'd made it clear to Carly that I didn't want her giving out my address to random nutjob- I mean, over enthused fans. This isn't funny guys. I'd appreciate it if you'd leave me alone."

The door swung shut in their faces, and the three of them stood in a slightly awkward silence before Dean began pounding on the door again.

"Go away!" Chuck shouted upon pulling open the wood panel, but Dean jammed his foot into the doorway before the smaller man could slam it shut again.

"We're not leaving until you give us an explanation," Dean insisted, moving forward until he'd forced his way into Chuck's house. The mousy writer shuffled backwards in his slippers, nearly tripping on his robe as he hurried out of Dean's way.

"Take whatever you want, just don't kill me," he pleaded, flinging himself back onto his stained sofa in surrender.

"We aren't going to kill you," Dean scoffed as if it were the most ridiculous notion in the world.

"Oh god, that means you're going to make me suffer a fate worse than death, aren't you? Break my ankles so I can't get away and then threaten me with a hose if I don't put on the lotion!"

"Uhm, no. We're just here to figure out how you know so much about our lives," Sam told him as he and Melanie entered the house as well.

"Ok clearly you guys have taken my books way too seriously. They're just fiction alright? I'm glad that you enjoyed them, but you can't just-"

"But they aren't' fiction," Dean insisted. "You know details of our lives that we haven't shared with anyone."

"And you're going to tell us how you got your hands on that information," Sam added, coming forward to tower over the cowering writer.

As the boys intimidated the nervous author, Melanie wandered about the sitting room, aimlessly perusing Chuck's bookshelves and admiring the artwork scattered across his desk.

The Supernatural book covers may have been adorned with ridiculously muscled men in various stances of overt masculinity, but Chuck's sketches did a much better job of reflecting the true personalities of Sam and Dean. The figures Chuck had drawn didn't possess the exact same features as the real hunters, but he'd managed to capture the way Sam's nose wrinkled when he laughed, or the way Dean's jaw tightened whenever he wielded a weapon.

In his writing and his artwork Chuck made it clear that he understood Sam and Dean. He may not have ever met them before, or even been aware that they were actual people until just a few minutes ago, but he knew and cared for them in the way only a creator could.

"How do you guys even know this stuff? Did you just sit down and memorize all the mundane details I threw in?" Chuck cried, and the shrillness of his voice pulled Melanie away from her fascinated snooping. Apparently in their efforts to convince him they were the real deal, Sam and Dean had only managed to freak Chuck out even more.

"No we didn't memorize it, it's who we are," Sam insisted, throwing his hands into the air in frustration.

"Hang on, how much do you know?" Dean demanded, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Is your source still feeding you information? What do you know about the angels? Lilith?"

"I-what?" Chuck gaped at them, looking completely flabbergasted. "That stuff about heaven and the seals never came out; I kept writing but none of it's even been published," he told them, his voice having lowered to a whisper. He almost seemed to be talking to himself now, and Melanie couldn't be sure if that was a sign that they'd convinced him, or if he was about to snap.

"Have you guys been going through my trash or something? I mean even the most recent good idea I've had about the the Melanie story arc hasn't been pitched to my publisher yet," Chuck continued to mutter to himself, and it was Melanie's turn to gape in shock.

"Wait, did you just- did you just say Melanie story arc?" she demanded, her voice sounding far weaker than she would have liked. "As in, Melanie Adelaide Clarkson?"

"Yeah, but how do you know her middle name?" Chuck wondered, turning to look at her in befuddled confusion. "I only just came up with that a few hours ago- I never even wrote it down!"

"I must be a god!" Chuck proclaimed a few minutes later as he paced back and forth.

"You're not a god," Dean sighed dismissively from where he sat hunched in Chuck's arm chair.

"You never know," Melanie offered with a shrug from where she was stretched out along the couch, and Dean shot her a dark look.

"Don't encourage him," Dean huffed, running his hands along his face.

"We just need to figure out how this is happening and put a stop to it," Sam suggested from where he leaned against Chuck's desk. "Clearly it's more than just someone snooping on us and telling Chuck every detail. Somehow he's thinking this up on his own as it manifests in reality."

"Oh gosh, you guys I've been the worst deity imaginable," Chuck continued, carrying on with his own god monologue. "I really am sorry. All the crap I've put you through; you've just lost so much over the years and I just can't apologize enough. But at least I've created you," Chuck added with a gesture towards Melanie, "to bring some balance and a bit of joy, at least on Dean's part."

"Wait, that means you know why they really brought us back, doesn't it?" Melanie asked as she sat up and excitedly turned to face Chuck. "I mean I'm flattered that you think so highly of me, but 'stability' can't be the only reason I'm here."

"Of course I know! I'm the one writing it afterall! It's because-"

"Isn't there some sort of rule against knowing your future?" Dean blurted out of nowhere, his speech faster and more agitated than normal.

"I thought you wanted to know just as badly as I do what the angels really want from us?" Melanie asked Dean, completely caught off guard by his deflection of her question.

"Yeah Dean, what are you doing? Chuck can actually help us get to the bottom of this," Sam pointed out, sounding just as confused as Melanie.

"No, Dean's right; spoilers!" Chuck agreed with a nervous laugh. He quickly glanced at Dean, and Melanie could have sworn she saw some sort of unspoken communication pass between them. So what, now Dean had a secret language with Chuck too? Was he sharing covert information with every being on the planet save Melanie?

"Alright, so then what can you tell us?" Sam inquired, and Chuck gave an exhausted sigh.

"I suppose I could clue you in on things about to happen in your immediate future without doing too much damage. But I don't have much to tell you at the moment; inspiration usually comes to me when I'm asleep."

"We'll come back tomorrow, then," Sam declared, rising to his feet to lead the other two back to the Impala.

"Alright, so what can you tell us?" Sam asked the moment they were all situated in Chuck's living room the next morning. The groggy author was still dressed in the same disheveled clothes he'd been wearing the day before, and he let out a series of unintelligible grunts as he shuffled about cradling a mug of coffee. The three hunters waited for him to take a sip, then slowly blink open his eyes.

"You're going to sleep with Lilith," Chuck declared calmly, then took a moment to deeply inhale the rich aroma of his warm drink.

"I-what?" Sam demanded, sounding utterly incredulous. "You've got to be joking."

"Wouldn't be a very funny joke, would it?" Chuck responded, his brow furrowing as he honestly pondered his statement's potential humor.

"But-but Lilith? That's impossible!" Sam insisted.

"Wouldn't be the first demon you've fucked," Dean remarked, his tone flat but still containing a substantial amount of bitterness.

"Really does beg the question 'how many black eyes can one man bone?'," Melanie muttered under her breath.

"Hey, I wouldn't be so quick to judge," Chuck warned, pointing from Dean to Melanie. "You two are constantly going at it like rabbits the minute you're alone; you've got no right to talk."

Melanie felt heat rush to her face at Chuck's shameless declaration, and she could sense the same awkwardness coming off of Dean in waves as they both realized that Chuck had been privy to every intimate moment between them.

"So how do we keep it from happening?" Dean inquired, thankfully pulling the conversation away from his and Melanie's sex life.

"We don't have to do anything, it's never going to happen," Sam insisted, but Dean ignored him and kept his attention focused on Chuck.

"I don't really know," Chuck admitted. "I don't really get a map of possible outcomes. I just see it like it is."

"Look, I don't know why you're so worried, he's obviously wrong," Sam continued to argue as the three hunters vacated Chuck's house.

"He's been right about everything so far," Melanie pointed out, and the look Sam shot her instantly reminded her that this man was dangerous; he may have been playing nice in front of his brother, but he could end her life at any moment if she gave him a reason to.

"I don't care if you think it's bullshit or not, we're getting out of this town," Dean told them as they climbed into the Impala. "It doesn't matter if Chuck is right, we aren't sticking around long enough to find out."

"Fine," Sam huffed, slouching in the passenger seat as he threw himself his own pity party.

Yes poor Sam, Melanie thought to herself. His own brother didn't trust him because he lied about drinking demon blood and was already doing the "impossible" with his demon girlfriend. Yes what a tragedy, no one truly understood the struggles of Sam Winchester.

"Shit," she heard Dean mutter to himself some fifteen minutes later.

"What is it?" she wondered, sitting up a bit straighter as Dean slowed down to converse with the police officer whose car blocked the road. Based on Chuck's habit of writing rather obvious plots, Melanie could only assume there'd been some sort of freak accident that would ensure they'd have to spend the night in town.

"Sorry, folks, you'll have to turn back. This is the only route outta here, and the bridge is out."

It looked like Sam would be getting some action tonight, after all.

Hubris and pride often make humans forget

That all they receive comes from above

And all they are given is truly a gift from us

They know nothing that we do not

And we posses knowledge they can never obtain

A/N: Hopefully you guys enjoyed that! Don't worry, Chuck will be back soon enough! As will Cas, although he's a bit farther down the road at the end of this episode.

Next chapter: Sam and Dean decide to just do the opposite of what Chuck's writing says, and Melanie and Dean have another rabbit moment (although it's more heartfelt and really a bit sad than it is rabbity).