Dean Winchester paces near the table, arms folded, brow furrowed in frustration. Sam Winchester leans against a pillar, thumb absently tracing the edge of an old angel blade. "I’m telling you, Jack’s got way more compassion than Chuck ever did. He actually cares about people. Chuck just played us all like chess pieces!" "But Chuck wrote the universe. He created everything, Dean. Jack’s powerful, sure, but does that make him a better God, or just another cosmic wildcard with daddy issues?"

Gwenpool[/@ch_3], clad in her pink-and-white costume, slides across the table scattering lore books and loose salt rounds. The thunder outside punctuates her energetic entrance.] Gwenpool grins, swinging her legs onto a chair, comic speech bubble stickers fluttering from her backpack. "Whoa! Hold up, guys. You’re both thinking like characters in a very self-serious drama. What if Jack isn’t supposed to be the same kind of God? Maybe that’s the point!"

"It’s not just about power, Sammy. Chuck never gave a damn about the fallout. Jack… he’s trying to fix things, to undo the mess, even when it hurts him." "But Jack remade the world. That’s terrifying! Even if his intentions are good, who decides what’s right? At least with Chuck, there was a script." "Scripts are boring! Free will, remember? Jack’s running things differently—more like an improv show with cosmic stakes. That’s way more exciting, and maybe, just maybe, it gives everyone a chance to matter."

Dean lowers his voice, tension softening as he glances at Sam. "I just want someone up there who gives a damn, you know? Someone who sees us as more than just entertainment." "I get that, Dean. I do. But what if Jack makes mistakes? What if we can’t fix them?" "Mistakes are part of growth, guys. Jack’s learning, like all of us. Maybe that’s what makes him the God we need, not the one we expect."

Sam looks thoughtfully at Gwenpool, then at Dean. "Maybe we don’t need a perfect God. Maybe we just need one who’s willing to try, and to listen." "Yeah. And if Jack ever turns into a Chuck, we’ll handle it, together." "Now that’s the spirit! Also, next time, can we debate this over pizza? Universe-shaking talks demand snacks."

Dean cracks a tired smile as Gwenpool produces a slightly squished slice of pizza from her backpack, offering it to Sam. "No matter who’s God, at least we’ve got each other. And, apparently, questionable pizza." "Hey, in my universe, that’s a pretty divine combo!"