Chapter Text
Cruel implies an indifference to suffering and taking pleasure in inflicting it while capricious implies an incapacity for steadiness and an inherent tendency to change. From their first meeting, God described himself as such. Countless universes created and destroyed through Chuck's search for entertainment. Though, God didn't lie to Metatron when stating he made creation because he was lonely. Throughout the countless millennia, he never forgot the truth behind those words, rather he simply lost hope. And with that loss, Chuck slowly transformed into a "cruel, cruel capricious god."
"Welcome to the end," Chuck stated emotionally before he disappeared, taking with him the light and bringing about the end to the Winchester's world. Within seconds, cracks of raw energy from Hell's souls rising to the surface starting racing to combine in a single focus point. However, before anything could come of it, two pulses of power spread across the graveyard and continued onward. The first pulse of energy brought back the light of the sun while the second ripple forced the converging souls of Hell deep down within its levels, preventing their escape.
"What the hell just happened?" Dean questioned squinting in the brightness of the newly returned sun while trying to locate the source of the waves of power. After not finding the source in his immediate area, Dean turned his head towards Cas, waiting for an explanation.
Castiel didn't answer right away. He turned his face towards the newly restored sun and stared blankly at it for several moments, rolling his angel blade in his hand the entire time. Finally, he stowed his blade and turned towards Dean. "I do not recognize who that power originated from," started Castiel unsure "but it almost felt... familiar." Castiel tilted his head to the side as he considered the turn of events.
Sam hesitated before he asked, "Do you think it could be Amara?"
Dean snorted from where he had kneeled alongside Castiel beside Jack's body. "No," Dean said quietly as he fixed Jack's hair, "I would've felt her return. Besides, Cas said he didn't recognize the power. Whoever flipped the switch back on, it wasn't Amara and it sure as hell wasn't Chuck."
Sam hummed in agreement as he quietly continued theorizing on who could have 'flipped the switch back on'. The two humans and the angel worked in silence as they gathered the now useless gun and prepared Jack's body for the ride back to the bunker. There was no talk of burning the body. Not even one of them had the heart to do such a thing. It was an unspoken truth which they all knew.
As Dean drove the impala and its occupants along the road, a voice interrupted their individual grieving. "Well, wh--"
Whatever the female voice was going to say was cut off as Dean swerved to the side of the road as he let out a string of expletives. "Shit! Billie, you need..."
"I don't need to do anything for you, Dean Winchester." Billie commented as she glared at him through her reflection in the rearview mirror. She then proceeded to stop any of Dean's following attempts to complain by saying, "What has you three so morose?"
"Morose?" Dean questioned Billie slightly incredulously.
"Morose, Dean" Castiel interjected in a deadpan voice. "It means sullen, ill-tempered, or mournful."
Dean rolled his eyes at Cas' comment and gave a small sigh. Usually, the angel's misunderstandings would amuse him, but not at that time. "I know what it means, Cas" Dean said exhaustedly, "What I'm wondering is how Death doesn't get how family dying can make one a little irritable." Dean glared at Billie while he spoke as the recently appointed Death just smirked in response.
"Now, Dean, there's no need for hostility. Actually, I was expecting a warmer welcome considering I'm working with the Empty on returning Jack back to you lot."
Dean, Sam, and Castiel exchanged hopeful yet warry glances. After a moment of silence, Dean voiced the question all three for asking but hesitant to ask... "What do you want?"