Chuck Shurley Imagines

Chuck x Reader: Croatoan

In 2014 the world is overrun with croatoans. You go on a mission with Future!Dean and get killed. Chuck has trouble processing and dealing with your death.
(Female Reader)

The year was 2014 and the entire world was overrun by the croatoan virus. Your entire family had either been killed or infected, all except Chuck. He was your boyfriend of six years and you would have been married had the virus not started. The leader of the group in which you resided, Dean Winchester, was cold and uncaring, though it had not always been that way. He had once been fiercely loyal to his family and friends, brave like no other and determined to save his little brother. That was the Dean you knew, the one from Chuck's books, the one you had first met that day around five or six years ago. Now here he was, ordering people about and pressuring you to hurry up speaking to Chuck. You were due to leave on a mission into the city to scavenge whatever you could and Chuck was going through his usual list of things to do before a mission. Make sure you keep safe, don't get lost, stay with the group, keep your gun with you, be careful around croates. The list went on and on but you never minded, Chuck was just looking out for you.
"Y/N! Come on, we're leaving!" Once again Dean was yelling at you and you rushed to tell Chuck 'goodbye' and 'I love you' before jumping into the truck and driving down to Kansas City.

It was supposed to be easy, a quick in and out, avoiding any croates. It hadn't gone as planned. You had been ambushed, half your group killed, another few infected and you had been attacked by three croatoans at once. You had tried to shoot them, but they were too close and then you were on the floor, blood pouring out of a serious would to your stomach. It was pooled around you, thick and deep red. You were terrified. None of the survivors of your group had come look for you. Maybe they thought you were dead. Maybe they had already left. It didn't matter, you knew you were going to die, whether they found you or not. The only thing running through your mind as Chuck. The man you loved, who loved you. The one who had been with you through the pain of loosing your family. The only one still with you. Black spots clouded your vision and you coughed violently, blood spewing out of your mouth to join that already on the ground. It was then that you saw the lumbering figure making its way towards you, just in the corner of your eye. It was probably a croat, but you held on to the hope that maybe Dean had come back for you, to save you from your obvious fate. You held on to consciousness just long enough to realise the man was in fact Dean and that he was picking you up, carefully placing you in the back of one of the trucks. You closed your eyes and thought of Chuck. He would be all alone. No one there for him. But he would be okay. He would move on from your death  after a while. The last thought you had before you let go of life was 'Chuck, I love you so much. You owe me a wedding.'

Chuck exited the cabin as he heard the rumble of engines coming into camp. His eyes darted around the returning group as he searched for something. Someone. You. The group was considerably smaller than when they had left and Chuck felt a small piece of remorse within him at the thought of his deceased friends. He watched as Dean leaned into the backseat of his truck and gently removed something. A pale, limp, lifeless body. You. Check felt his whole world crumble around him as he collapsed on to his knees with an agonised cry. You were dead. Gone. There was nothing left of the bubbly person you used to be. Only a cold corpse, slowly rotting away. The pain wouldn't leave and Chuck felt as if his heart was being crushed in a grinder or chopped up with an axe. It was excruciating and Chuck slowly crawled to where Dean had placed your body. The crowd split to give Chuck space to move and many sympathetic looks were sent his way. Dean even mustered up enough sympathy to say,
"Sorry, Chuck. She died fighting."
The agony that Chuck felt as he cradled your head in his lap was unparalleled. The ashes of his burned heart drifted and blew away and soon Chuck was numb. He was in shock. He could feel nothing but the pain of seeing your cold, grey corpse as he gently lifted you into his arms and stumbled towards the cabin you used to share. You would be buried the next day and everything would be real. You would be gone and Chuck would have to live without you. No, he wouldn't live, he would survive. Because to Chuck, living included you. You were his life and then you were gone. So yes, Chuck would survive. He'd survive for you, without you. But he would never move on, never get over your death, never forget you. You were his everything and what was left when you were gone? Nothing except pain and cold numbness. You had broken him.

The day was bright and the sun was shining in the blue sky. Chuck resented it. You were dead and no one was mourning you except him. Even nature was joyful. Everyone went back to their daily routines, another member of camp taking over your duties. Yet Chuck was out in a nearby field, staring down at a round stone he had carefully engraved your initials into. This was the spot where you would rest forever and the man standing over it hoped that when he died someone would have the decency to lay him with you. He had chosen the spot and dug the grave himself while no one else seemed to even notice he wasn't in camp. It didn't matter to Chuck though. He was with you as you began your eternal sleep and that would have been enough for you. Chuck looked down at your grave one last time before he walked back to camp, back to life without you, without your presence, without your love.

*BONUS*

Chuck stood with 2009 Dean Winchester and looked down at the stone that marked your place.
"I'm sorry Chuck. I'm sure she went down fighting."
"That's what 2014 you said to me when you brought her back."
"Then it's true."
"I hope so."
And Chuck walked away before Dean could see the silent tears running down his cheeks.

This one was shorter than the other. I wasn't really sure what to write. Oh well. Anyway, I take requests, just message me on Wattpad (I don't really do social media). I don't do smut, just fluff! And some sad stuff. :'(

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