The Price of a Soul

Summary: Chuck is completely human now, with all that entails...including a soul. With a soul comes everything he wasn't able to feel before, including guilt. There are only two people who might be able to help him figure out how to deal with his overwhelming emotions
Warning(s): Spanking, including with a belt; spoilers up to and including the series finale of Supernatural; AU; references to violence and canon character death
Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel (hinted at)
Author's Note: It's been a long time since I visited the Supernatural fandom, but I've been watching videos about it on YouTube. I also really liked Chuck in his first appearances, before it was revealed that he was God.
If you're interested in where this specific fic idea came from - someone made a comment about Chuck getting a soul, and another user noted that Chuck was never human and therefore, he never had a soul. Since he becomes fully human by the end of the series, I figure that means he also gets a soul along with humanity. So here we are

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"It doesn't really feel different...does it?"

Dean frowned and looked up, focusing on Sam as his brother flipped through one of the books from the pile he had next to him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, we're still hunting things. Saving people." Sam tapped the book. "After Jack took Chuck's powers, I figured we wouldn't need to save so many people. Or hunt so many things."

"Yeah." Dean shrugged, turning his attention back to his laptop screen. "Well, Jack said he'd be hands-off. Even if he changes his mind later, he's probably got a whole lot of mess Chuck left behind that he needs to clean up."

"Do you think he'll bring back all of those Chuck killed? Or at least who Chuck was responsible for killing?"

Dean stared at the newspaper article without actually reading it. Sam hadn't said the name, but he knew who his brother was thinking about. Dean would be lying if he claimed he hadn't thought about whether Jack could bring Castiel back or not. If he did, would Castiel come to find them? Before he'd sacrificed himself, Castiel had confessed his true feelings to Dean...who hadn't had the chance to really think about those words, or how he felt about it...how he felt about Cas. "I don't know," he said finally. "He's got all of Chuck's powers, so he should be able to." He sighed and closed his laptop, figuring he wasn't going to be taking in anymore information. "This conversation isn't going to help us figure out what this kid's ghost is attached to."

"I was thinking." Sam hesitated, falling silent.

Dean twisted round to stare at his brother. "Don't stop there, Sammy. I know you've been thinking. You're doing it so loudly, it's nearly deafening me over here."

Sam raised his head from the book, making eye contact with Dean. He was quiet for a few seconds before he said, "This might be my last hunt."

It wasn't a surprise. They'd stopped the apocalypse. They'd stopped multiple apocalypses. And Sam had always wanted an ordinary, peaceful life away from the hunt. "Okay," Dean said out loud. "I know you said it doesn't feel like anything's different, but you're wrong. We're dealing with less monsters now. Less hunts. You want to retire, live your own life? I think it's a good move."

"You won't, though. Will you?"

Dean shrugged and leaned back on his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. "It's not for me, Sammy. White picket fence and 2.5 children? You know I tried that once already. Didn't exactly go well."

"Yeah, but Chuck isn't in the picture anymore," Sam pointed out. "He's not gonna be dragging us back into the destinies he created for us. He can't."

"Yeah. Still." Dean shrugged. He didn't really see the need to continue. Sam was always the one who'd wanted out of this life, and Dean was the one who couldn't make himself leave. Maybe he was being paranoid, but he couldn't shake the feeling that if he tried to retire, if he tried to settle down, he'd still be dragged back into the life. And if he was completely honest with himself, there was only one person he'd willingly settle down with and think about retiring.

And Castiel might not be coming back this time.

A knock on the door broke Dean out of his thoughts and he glanced at Sam, raising his eyebrows. He wasn't expecting anyone...and they'd made sure no housekeeping would enter the room and see something they shouldn't.

Catching Dean's eye, Sam frowned and shook his head. He then stood up slowly, reaching for his gun and holding it trained on the door.

Dean narrowed his eyes and gave a sharp shake of his head, then pulled out his own gun and pointed it at the door.

"One of us is going to have to open it," Sam muttered, shuffling a bit nearer. "We can't just stand here with our guns drawn. They haven't tried to break the door down, so it could be a good sign."

"No one knows we're here," Dean whispered back. He shifted position slightly, looking at the door, then caught Sam's eye. "Rock, paper, scissors?"

"Or you could just open the door."

Dean just raised his eyebrows.

Rolling his eyes, Sam lowered his gun and they proceeded to hit their fists into their hands. After three times, Dean chose rock, while Sam chose paper.

"It's a stupid game anyway," Dean muttered, as he tucked his gun into its holster and moved over to open the door.

Chuck was standing there.

Eyes widening a fraction, Dean immediately drew his gun and aimed it at the being who'd been responsible for near enouh one hundred percent of the crap they'd gone through. "You son of a bitch."

Chuck held his hands up. "I come in peace. And I'm human. So no threat."

"What do you want?" Sam's voice was low and dangerous as he walked up to stand next to Dean.

"Can I come in?" Chuck asked.

Dean glanced at his brother and raised his eyebrows. He knew neither of them trusted Chuck. Losing powers and becoming human didn't necessarily change who a person was. Turning back to Chuck, Dean said, "You have thirty seconds to convince us we should hear you out."

"I have a soul," Chuck said.

"Wait...what?" Sam lowered his own gun, his confusion obvious. "How do you have a soul?"

"You didn't have a soul before?" Even as he asked the question, Dean realised it made sense. He'd seen how Sam acted without his soul. He'd seen how Jack had acted without his soul. If Chuck had never had a soul...his actions made much more sense. Shaking his head, Dean asked, "Did you just magically get a soul?"

"It comes with being human. I think." Chuck looked...tired. Weary. Like he hadn't been sleeping well. "You're still hunting." He looked between the two of them.

Dean exchanged a glance with Sam and then stepped back from the door. He didn't really want to talk about hunting out in the corridor, where anyone could listen in...and if Chuck wanted to hurt either of them, he would have come in more subtly than walking right up to their door and knocking.

Sam raised his own eyebrows, but he said nothing and also stepped back from the door...although he didn't lower his gun as Chuck stepped into the motel room and closed the door behind him.

"We'll hear you out, but you're human now," Dean said. "Unless you got an upgrade we don't know about, you'll be easy to put down if you try anything."

"I guess I deserve that." Chuck took a deep breath and looked between the two of them.

"What do you want?" Dean asked warily.

Chuck was silent for a few seconds, as if he was trying to figure out how to word what he wanted to say. Finally, he burst out, "How do you stand it? All these feelings...these thoughts...everything coming at you all at once." He shook his head. "It feels like everything's too bright. Too...deafening. I never expected being human to be like this."

Slowly, very slowly, Sam lowered his gun...although he remained tense and clearly on his guard. "It's like the world was in black and white and suddenly, you can see in colour again," he said quietly.

Chuck nodded slowly. "I don't know how to handle this."

"Why did you come here?" Dean asked. "You want help learning to be human? We went through that already with Cas. Can't say I'm too fond of doing the same thing for an egotistical bastard who feels no remorse for all of the deaths he caused, all of the people he hurt. After everything you've done to us, to this whole world, you want our help?" he demanded.

"Dean." Sam locked eyes with him and jerked his head, moving to one corner of the room.

Eyeing Chuck with distrust, Dean walked over to join his brother. He looked at Sam and then sighed heavily, shaking his head. "Don't tell me you're actually leaning towards believing him."

"Why not?" Sam asked. "I lived without a soul for more than a year. You've seen what not having a soul does to people. It changes you, deep inside. And even once you get your soul back, if you get your soul back, that damage is still there. If Chuck never had a soul before, he's dealing with thousands of years worth of emotions all coming at him all at once."

"You sound like you feel sorry for him." Dean narrowed his eyes slightly. "You remember everything he did, right? I know not having a soul changes you, but you were still you. Just without your conscience."

"That's pretty much the definition of being soulless." Sam glanced towards Chuck, then at Dean once more. "Look, let's just find out what he's doing here and what he wants from us."

"Dude. That's what I'm trying to do." Shaking his head, Dean stepped away from his brother and moved over to stand in front of Chuck. "What are you doing here?" he asked. "What do you want from us? Haven't you done enough damage already?"

"That's why I'm here." Chuck took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he admitted, quietly, "I have a soul now. So I know what I was. I know everything I did. And it hurts."

"Good," Dean snapped.

"Dean." Sam sighed heavily.

"I'm not looking for sympathy," Chuck said. "I'm not looking for help in learning to be human. I need to be a better person, now that I know what I did." He glanced towards Sam, then back at Dean, as he said quietly, "Feeling all this guilt and pain isn't going to help me make up for everything I caused."

"Yeah? Well, that's part of being human," Dean said. "Feeling all that guilt, that pain, and knowing you're the cause of it all...I don't know what you're here for, Chuck. We can't help you." Even as he said the words, he could feel Sam's eyes boring into the back of his neck. He turned to face his brother. "What?"

"I'm just thinking...there are ways of helping with guilt." Sam flushed a little, glancing at Chuck, before lowering his voice slightly. "You've helped me with it in the past."

Confusion had Dean frowning before his eyes widened in sudden understanding. "That's not...." He gave a sharp shake of his head. "You're my brother, Sammy. This isn't the same thing at all."

"What are you talking about?" Chuck asked.

"Spanking." Sam said the word before Dean could brush off the former deity. Catching Dean's eye, he shrugged. "Look. He made mistakes. Big mistakes. But I made huge mistakes and you didn't leave me to flounder in my guilt. You stepped in and you helped me...."

"Because you're my brother," Dean said. "I wouldn't do anything else. I couldn't do anything else." He couldn't believe Sam was actually suggesting this happen. Chuck wasn't a part of their family. He'd hurt people and abused his power over them, when he hadn't completely abandoned the world. The only reason he'd been stopped was because his powers had been drained and transferred to someone else; a person who had a soul.

"I know." Sam hesitated. "But maybe Chuck could learn, could be good, if we helped him."

"You're not talking about you helping him." Dean shook his head. "You're asking me to do it. And I don't think I can," he admitted. "I don't have the right mindset for taking on this kind of responsibility for another person."

"Dean." Chuck moved over to him and reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry. I know it doesn't mean anything, and you have no reason to believe me, but I truly am sorry."

Dean twitched slightly at the touch, but didn't pull away. Instead, he asked, "How do I know I can trust you?"

Chuck dropped his hand. "You know I wiped Becky and her family from existence. After I realised why I was feeling guilty, what was hurting me, I went to her house. I didn't let them see me, of course. But he brought her back. He brought them all back. He undid the damage I caused...at least as far as he could."

"That doesn't answer my question," Dean said. "You could be lying about going to see her. Hell, you could by lying about her and her family being brought back...."

"He's not lying." Sam spoke up from where he'd sat down in front of the laptop, having opened it. "I checked in on her. She's posting updates on Facebook. Pictures of her and her husband. It looks like she doesn't remember anything that happened to her." He glanced towards Dean and shrugged slightly. "It's probably a blessing that she doesn't remember."

"Huh." Dean frowned. "She stopped writing, didn't she? Just as well. It was bad enough having one person writing about every detail of our lives. Even if those details were true." He directed a hard glance towards Chuck.

"I'm sorry," Chuck said softly.

Dean watched him for a few moments before nodding. "Okay. I believe you're sorry. Thing is, I don't have a relationship with you. Not really. And I can't punish you for what you did to the whole world. No punishment would even touch on that."

"You're right." Chuck nodded. "You can't deal with all of the crimes I committed against humanity. Against demons. Against everyone. But you can deal with what I did to you. To you and Sam. Or at least make a start," he added.

Dean wasn't even sure this was a good idea. Of course, he'd spanked Sam in the past...but that was different. Sam was his brother. Back before they'd learned the truth about Chuck's identity, Dean had actually liked him. Considered him a friend. But that was all in the past...and he wasn't sure he could ever adjust his view of Chuck back to what it had been, or even close to what it had been.

"Dean." Chuck locked eyes with him. "Do your worst."

In spite of himself, Dean laughed. It was a harsh, bitter sound and he caught sight of Sam wincing out of the corner of his eye. Do his worst? Chuck had to understand that Dean's worst was what he'd been taught while being tortured in hell. "You don't want me to do that," he said out loud.

Chuck didn't say anything. He just looked at Dean and waited.

"Dean," Sam hissed.

Dean glanced towards his brother. From the look on his face, he knew what Sam thought. He wanted to believe Chuck...and wanted Dean to go easier on him. He didn't need to say the words outright. Despite everything that had happened, he could still read Sam as well as he ever had. He didn't make any promises, or tell Sam he had nothing to worry about. Instead, he said, "You don't have to be here for this."

"You don't seriously think I'd leave. Do you?"

"Had to ask." Dean shrugged, then finally turned his attention to Chuck. "Okay. You're going to do exactly what I tell you. No arguments or protests. If you don't like it, you can walk out right now, but nothing will change. Nothing will get better. This is the only time I'm going to give you that offer. Otherwise, once we start, it's not gonna finish till I'm satisfied." He waited a beat and then asked, "What's your choice?"

"What do you want me to do?" Chuck asked.

"Okay." Dean hadn't really expected the agreement, but then again, it wasn't like Chuck didn't know what he was capable of. Maybe he really was looking for a way to redeem himself. He wouldn't be the first one to, after all. He walked over to his bed and sat down, legs spread slightly apart. "Take off all your clothes."

To Chuck's credit, he didn't flinch or even balk at the order. His fingers went to his shirt and he began to unbutton it. He then removed his shirt and folded it neatly, before toeing off his shoes and socks. Then, he unzipped his pants and pushed those down, along with his underwear. He then stepped out of both of them, folding them neatly and placing them on top of his shirt. Then, he walked slowly over to Dean.

As soon as Chuck was close enough, Dean reached out and took hold of the other man's wrist. He braced one hand against Chuck's back and pushed at the same time as he tugged on Chuck's wrist, pulling the other man forward until Chuck more or less fell into place across his lap.

With Chuck positioned over his lap, Dean took a moment or two to feel a sense of satisfaction. He couldn't have said he would have thought about doing this, ever, even when they'd found out who Chuck truly was. However, now that he had Chuck in this position, about to be punished, he couldn't deny that it actually felt good.

Resting one hand on Chuck's lower back, Dean lifted his other hand and brought it down in a firm smack.

Chuck's whole body jerked and he let out a tiny whimpering sound.

Ignoring the reaction, Dean continued to deliver firm, hard smacks to Chuck's bare backside. He didn't stick to a pattern that would make it easy for the other man to anticipate when the next smack would fall. Instead, he let his hand land in random spots all over Chuck's bottom. One smack would be delivered at the crest of Chuck's backside, while a second would land at the top of his right thigh. He'd land a flurry of smacks to the right cheek and then deliver one smack to the left, before returning to the right for another few smacks.

It didn't take long for Chuck's bottom to turn pink and then darken to a shade of red. He'd managed to lay still for a little while, but as the spanking continued, he began to shift and squirm, his body twisting as if he was unconsciously trying to get away from the smacks.

As Chuck's squirming became more pronounced, Dean wrapped his arm around the other man's waist, holding him still. He continued the spanking until Chuck's bottom was a deep, bright red. Then, he paused, letting his hand rest on Chuck's upper thigh.

By this point, Chuck was crying quietly, the sound only just reaching Dean's ears. His hands were gripping the bedsheets so tightly, his knuckles had turned white.

Dean didn't wait for long before he figured it was time for the next step. He moved his hand towards his belt and pulled it free, sliding it through the loops in a deliberately slow manner...knowing that Chuck would hear and feel it. That sense of satisfaction lurking below the surface grew more intense as he saw Chuck's backside clench in response to the sound.

Doubling the belt over in his hand, Dean let the leather rest lightly against Chuck's heated backside. He took a few moments before he brought the belt back and let it fly, landing across the middle of both cheeks with a loud snap.

Chuck yelped, his body stiffening and his legs jerking out. He breathed in deeply, his grip tightening on the bed sheets.

Dean waited for a few seconds, knowing that the pain of the stroke would reach a peak, and then brought the belt down a second time, delivering a strike that left behind a thin red line just below the first one.

Chuck's tears had turned into sobs now. His body had resumed its shifting and twisting and squirming. Finally, after Dean snapped the belt against his thighs, using less force than against his bottom, he threw his hand back to cover his backside.

Dean just about managed to avoid striking Chuck's hand as he prepared to bring the belt down again. He gripped the belt tightly, keeping it just above Chuck's backside, and ordered sternly, "Move your hand."

A harsh sob was torn from Chuck's throat and he whispered, "I can't."

"Dean." Sam shifted into Dean's field of vision. In a low voice filled with compassion, he said, "Don't you think that's enough?"

"Enough?" Dean shook his head. "Did you forget what he did already, Sammy? He wanted us to act as meat suits for his angels. He planned for one of us to kill the other. He treated humans and demons and monsters as little more than playthings. So no. I don't think he's had enough." A hard edge crept into his voice as he took a tighter hold on Chuck's waist.

With a quiet sob, Chuck pulled his hand away from his bottom and once more gripped the bedsheets tightly.

As he began to bring the belt down again, Dean caught Sam's eye; the way his little brother was looking at him. He was looking at him with those damned puppy dog eyes. Chuck's manipulations had harmed both of them, killing them more than once and sending them outright into hell.

But Sam was clearly unwilling to just stand by, or sit by, and let the punishment continue.

Dean slowly lowered the belt, letting the leather rest on Chuck's bottom. He breathed in deeply and closed his eyes for a second, then pulled the belt away and buckled it round his waist once more. Then, he helped Chuck to stand and reached out, placing his hand on the other man's shoulder and squeezing lightly.

Chuck wiped the tears from his face and looked wearily into Dean's eyes. "You'll help me make things right? At least as right as it's possible to?" His voice was hoarse from his tears.

"Yeah." Dean let his breath out slowly. "I'll help you."

Sam took a step forward. "We'll help you," he promised.

Dean exchanged a glance with his brother and then turned to Chuck. "I'd better not catch you writing and publishing any of this," he warned.

"Don't worry." A slightly rueful look came over Chuck's face as he said, "I think my writing days are over now."

The End