When Dean Winchester finds himself at the mercy of Bella Talbot, desperate for information that might save his soul, he crosses paths with Nadia Turner-the strong-willed, fiercely independent daughter of hunter Rufus Turner. Though the connection be...
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Chuck poured himself a glass of whiskey, gulping it down with a deep breath, before setting the glass down with a loud thud. Feeling a little less overwhelmed now, he turned around—only to jump at the sight of Nadia and the Winchesters standing there.
"Oh!" he groaned, rubbing his temples. "Oh, you're still here."
"Yup," Dean said, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, looking mildly entertained, while Sam stood by the dining room chair, arms propped up on it.
"You're not a hallucination?" Chuck asked, his voice uncertain.
"No, we're not," Nadia replied, her gaze sweeping the room in discomfort.
As familiar as the place felt, it was hard to ignore how much of a pigsty it was. The counters were cluttered with open snack bags, empty pizza boxes, and dirty dishes piled high—everything that didn't fit in the sink was left to spill over onto the surrounding surfaces. His laptop and a printer were wedged in on the table, surrounded by scattered manuscripts.
It was clear: the kitchen wasn't just a place to cook; it was his office. And though he wasn't getting paid, writing seemed to be Chuck's entire life.
Chuck sighed, shaking his head, and muttered to himself, "Well, there's only one explanation..."
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Sam looked at Chuck flatly, and Dean chuckled, "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."
Nadia snickered as well, her discomfort momentarily forgotten. "You're not a god."
"How else do you explain it? I write things, and then they come to life. Yeah, no."
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