Haven wasn't used to war.
It had been a town of healing, rebuilding, and quiet laughter. But now? Now it felt like standing on the edge of a volcano that had just started to rumble.
The morning after Chuck appeared, the town looked different. Shadows seemed longer. The colors of the sky were a shade off—just enough to make your stomach twist. No one had slept well. Especially not John Harrison.
He walked through the square with Selene at his side, her arm brushing his every few steps. She didn't speak. She didn't have to. Her presence was enough.
They reached the chapel where Lucifer, Jack, Sam, and Dean were already gathered, poring over the remaining protective wards. Some were holding. Others were fading fast.
"Wards are burning out," Sam muttered. "He's pressing against them constantly."
"It's like a storm that never stops," Jessica added, running her hands over a flickering sigil.
Lucifer stood back from the others, silent. His fingers trembled at his side, eyes twitching slightly, like a soldier trying to stay calm before a battle he'd fought too many times.
"He's testing us," John said. "Seeing who breaks first."
Dean scoffed. "Then he's testing the wrong damn town."
Jack looked up, his face pale. "He's not just testing. He's rewriting things already. I saw someone yesterday… they faded out, like they were being erased. A fisherman who lived on the edge of Haven. It's like Chuck plucked him out of the story."
Everyone went quiet.
Lucifer's voice was hollow. "This is what he does when he gets angry. He edits. He deletes."
"But not us," Selene said, fierce now. "Not this time."
A sudden noise split the air—a low, grinding groan like the world itself was exhaling. The sky above cracked again, and something massive started to come through.
It wasn't Chuck.
It was something he made.
A creature formed from ink and broken stories, stitched together from discarded drafts. It crawled out of the tear in the sky like a nightmare come to life—huge, twisted, dripping with half-finished ideas. Faces that didn't belong to any one person screamed silently across its skin. It had dozens of arms, some melting into others. The moment it landed outside Haven's borders, trees shriveled. Grass turned to ash.
John stepped forward. "He's not just coming himself. He's sending in every failed idea he ever tossed out."
Dean cocked his shotgun. "Then we make it regret being recycled."
The people of Haven didn't run. They stood. Farmers, teachers, former hunters, young witches—all stood shoulder to shoulder. Some were scared. Most were. But none of them stepped back.
Selene kissed John's cheek, her voice soft and steady. "I'll take left flank."
John nodded. "I'll hold center."
Lucifer raised both hands, light forming around him. "And I'll burn the damn thing down."
The creature roared, voice like tearing paper. Then it charged.
The fight wasn't elegant. It wasn't polished. It was chaos. Screams. Light. Blood. Magic and bullets flying in every direction. But the people of Haven fought like they had something to lose—and more importantly, something worth protecting.
Selene moved like shadow, her ancient strength slicing through limbs with precise fury. Jack summoned protective waves of golden light, shielding children and elders as debris flew. Lucifer met the creature head-on, unleashing centuries of rage and regret.
And John—John was everywhere. Pulling people to safety. Reinforcing sigils. Driving his blade through the creature's center.
But the monster kept coming. Chuck was watching. And John could feel it—his smug gaze from the sky.
"You're still dancing to my tune," Chuck whispered into his mind.
"No," John whispered back. "We're writing over it."
Finally, with a cry of rage, Jack launched a final wave of power that exploded in light. The creature let out one last, horrible screech—and then it was gone. Burned out of existence. The sky healed a little.
Everyone was breathing hard. Hurt. But alive.
John stood in the center of the square again, blood on his shirt, dust in his hair. Selene walked over, pulled him into a tight embrace. "You're shaking," she whispered.
He laughed weakly. "Yeah. I just fought an abandoned rough draft of existence."
Lucifer wiped his hands and sat down on the chapel steps. "One down," he said. "God knows how many to go."
But John didn't look worried.
He looked angry. And determined.
"Let Chuck send everything he's got," he said, staring up at the faint shimmer still hanging in the sky. "We're not giving up this story. We'll fight for every page."
And high above, Chuck narrowed his eyes.
It was time to get personal.