A/N: This chapter is completely overdue and completely unbetaed, blame my hectic work schedule folks- it sucks beyond all telling having to go back to the world of retail. :(
Reviews are love and would definitely raise my spirits.
“He knows,” Faith said when they finally had a chance to sequester themselves away from their new friends and the well-meaning angels that followed them.
Buffy looked up from where she was polishing a thin dagger with long, meticulous strokes. She sighed and stopped moving, pushing the sharp blade aside as she looked at her hands.
“How long?” she asked, voice steady even as her hands shook a little.
“Since the Winchesters,” Faith answered, not looking up from where she was doing push-ups in an even ‘up and down’ rhythm.
“Every night,” Faith switched from her palms to her fists, keeping her breaths even as she started going faster, “he talks to me every night. Like clockwork.”
“Well,” Buffy exhaled noisily, thankful as hell for the sigils that protected their privacy, draping an illusion over the room they were ensconced in. “He was always a smart cookie, we knew that he’d figure things out eventually
“Ha,” Chuck squeaked from the floor where Dawn was keeping him trapped under the weight of her boot. “Smart cookie, that’s good. Saying that about the devil, funny
Dawn frowned and leaned down, squinting as she took in the prophet’s sweaty forehead and shivering limbs “You okay man?”
A high pitched giggling began working it’s way up Chuck’s throat, bubbling and twisting as he fought not to squirm under the leather heel of the very curvaceous brunette who had entrapped him into going with her into the den of doom
where the doors had slammed on his entrance and a wiry blonde had given him a smile and said “It’s been a very
Chuck’s having a weird day, is all.
Someone banged on the door, loudly and heavily- probably someone of the Wichesterian variety. “Open up!”
Chuck let out another weird, high pitched giggle and the heel dug into his spine a little sharper making him wince.
“We’ll be out in a second!” Buffy called out sweetly, in sharp contrast with the way her eyes glittered as she crouched next to Chuck.
“Hey prophet,” she smiled at him, toothy and shark-like and Chuck had a very hard time swallowing as he tried not to shudder.
“I have a name,” he complained, just because, feeling the imminent return of his sober headache and wondering whether he was important enough to kill at six in the evening of a Tuesday. “It’s Chuck, you know.”
“Really?” Dawn squinted at him, looming closer with her humongous blue eyes and wow- his visions never really showed him just how freaking beautiful
these girls were in real life. “That’s a pretty dumb name.”
“Hey!” Chuck had
to protest at that, either because he wasn’t known for keeping his mouth shut at the worst of times and freaky as this was- this definitely didn’t compare to when the other
angels, the purely dickhead angels were constantly hovering over his shoulder threatening a smiting to anyone Chuck might have ever considered a friend. “It’s a good name, a strong
name. My dad gave it to me.”
Faith had finally stopped with the weirdly continuous push-ups that didn’t even leave her breathless and did this kung-fu-ish spinning back kick into a crouching position that made Chuck’s back twinge in sympathy. “Sorry Chuckie, we were just a little surprised that you weren’t named something like Niphreil or Hephaestus or even Delphi.”
“That was a possibility
“Well…yeah,” Buffy gave him a blinding grin and then frowned at something over his line of vision, “in the old days, Gabriel’d just name you Cassandra and be done with it.”
a dick like that,” Faith agreed amiably and Dawn hummed from somewhere up above him.
Chuck thought furiously about what the archangel Gabriel would or had done and thanked his lucky stars that he was born in the new millennium when Gabriel was Loki and Loki wasn’t real. Or something along those lines.
“So, uh,” he tried to tilt his head up towards the blonde who he was pretty sure he’d seen Dean giving the sexy eyes to when he walked in and failed miserably, squinting up at her sideways like a lopsided crab, “what do you want from me?”
“Weell….” Faith rocked back on her haunches and tilted her head in an entirely unnerving way that reminded Chuck of that one movie with the possessed girl and the masturbatory crucifix scene and oh god- he was going to die
here and no one would help him and Chuck let out a long, loose blood curdling scream as someone’s hand squeezed the back of his neck tightly and the banging on the door intensified.
God, he hadn’t even told Dean about the vision he had. What he had seen.
“Oh calm down,” Faith leaned over and gripped his face in one of her tiny hands, holding it in a death grip that made Chuck’s cheeks hurt
and she smiled and nodded to someone over his head and he abruptly remembered that this girl in front of him, the one that had flirted and shimmied was Lucifer’s other half and that he had seen a vision of the two of them sitting across each other in a diner somewhere in the Midwest, and he knew that he shouldn’t have followed them- he knew that he should have run to Dean, run and told him all he could but he never really had a chance because-
“Nihaelo te,” someone whispered over his head, touching two fingertips to his forehead and Chuck screamed as an agonizing pain ripped through his mind, shifting a veil of white noise over the colorful visions of the last few days.
Chuck stretched as he got out of his cars, nervous and exhilarated as he looked at Bobby Singer’s sprawling salvage yard slash base of operations. It was almost night time and Chuck’s body twinged as he finally unfurled from twelve hours of continuous driving with stops for potty breaks and caffeine breaking up the tedium of the trip.
He felt nervous, excited, slightly terrified as he started making his way towards the flat house up ahead. He knew that he had to tell Dean about the visions, he had to tell them all
. And, if Chuck was being honest with himself- he was also pretty freaking curious to meet the first fallen angels in existence.
Except, they weren’t fallen. Not really.
Those visions that Chuck had of them, the ones that he was sure
would boil his brains out but ended up being something akin to really bad nightmares- he saw. He saw Heaven. He saw them
, before humanity had been brought about and before Lucifer began rebelling and Michael went a little bit psychopath in his path of devotion.
They didn’t really fall, did they? No, Chuck shook his head, they left of their own free will, paving the way for Gabriel and Anna. They didn’t fall, kicking and screaming like Lucifer- though he didn’t really scream, he seethed
when he was locked up in his prison. Cold rage and the long game of revenge.
Chuck shrieked and absolutely did not
flail like a scared ten year old as he tried to figure out where imminent death would be coming for him from.
The tiny blonde next to him was reassuringly not laughing at his little exercise in utter manliness, instead she just raised an eyebrow and was patiently waiting for his panicked breaths to evolve into something a little more calming.
“You alright there?”
“No,” Chuck gave her a glare, and brushed off the his shirt from where he had slammed into one of the junk cars by accident, “I’m not. I’ve almost had a heart attack
because I was attacked,” he emphasized. “Assailed, really.”
The blonde grinned at that and proffered her hand, “You’re the prophet?”
Chuck squinted, sure as hell, almost supernaturally aware that he knew her. Had seen her somewhere. He racked his memories for any visions that might have starred her, for memories of when he might have seen her. The tugging feeling in his gut intensified, sharp and pulling- like he needed
to remember her, like it was important
- but try as he might, there was only blank space where she needed to be.
“Chuck,” he said grudgingly, “my name is Chuck.”
“Great,” the blonde beamed at him, “my name is Buffy.”
Chuck stuttered in place and blinked at her, aware that there was yet another
niggling feeling at the back of his head- “Seriously
Dean looked skeptical and slightly angry in front of Chuck, which pretty much was the man’s default facial expression, sitting with his arms crossed and his eyebrow raised in an angry glint of incredulity.
“Are you sure
?” he asked for the fourth time.
Chuck felt tired, exhausted really by all the events of the day, by driving from his place to South freaking Dakota, by the impromptu holy water shower he had been exposed due to a twitchy Bobby Singer and by the various insanely hot females parading in the too small house, occasionally slipping in and out of the rooms in sleepwear and could their pyjama shorts get any tinier?
“Yes, I’m sure,” Chuck groused, “did you think that I’d drive all this way if I wasn’t sure?”
Sam, who once again was the mature, rational one in the family reclined on his chair and tapped the table with his freakishly long fingers- “You haven’t seen anything
with our visitors? Any visions? Memories?”
A long legged brunette wandered into the kitchen, wearing a tight white tank and a pair of tiny black shorts so high that Chuck could practically feel
the gravitational pull of her ass.
“Sorry,” Dawn grinned, flipping her waist length hair away from her face, “was just feeling a little thirsty.” She bent forward into the fridge, wiggling a little as she clinked several bottles together. “Do you guys want anything?” she inquired over her shoulder, cocking a hip forward and staring at them all with luminous blue eyes.
Chuck was clearly, clearly
going to hell. He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, catching the faces of both Dean and Sam across the table- wide and frozen respectively.
“No,” Dean ground out, “we’re fine.”
“Suit yourselves,” Dawn shrugged and gathered the two bottles to her chest, closing the refrigerator door with her hip. “Prophet,” she gave Chuck a wink and walked out of the kitchen, using that extra-swishy swaying walk that all girls seemed to use whenever they aware of eyes on their asses.
The kitchen was silent for about four more minutes after Dawn walked out and then Sam let out a long whoosh of a breath and rubbed at his face.
Sam, Chuck noted with a gleeful kind of amusement was also shifting in place as if adjusting himself for more comfort.
“She’s nineteen for fuck’s sake,” Dean narrowed his eyes at both Chuck and Sam, “calm down you perverts.”
,” Sam thumped his head on his folded hands and groaned, “I saw Adam flirting with her earlier.” He thumped his head again, “I’m pathetic.”
“No,” Dean’s usual grin was wavering somewhere in the periphery of his lips, “what’s pathetic are our little brother’s attempts at flirting. Obviously, we have to teach him.”
“Well,” Chuck said nervously and a little slyly, “I can see that you two have your hands full here.” He gave a giggle.
Dean stared at him and Sam just thumped his head on the table again like he couldn’t understand why he
was the one to get saddled with these people, and Chuck really took offence to that.
Thousands of Supernatural fans would have loved
the chance to spend some time with the creator of the books.
“What?” he pouted, “it’s a legitimate concern.”
When Chuck finally made his sleepy way to pass out upstairs, he heard hushed voices coming from one of the rooms. Not sure why he was doing this, or why he even cared and only peripherally aware of the fact that the nagging empty feeling hadn’t really left him since he’d come to Bobby’s house- he stopped and hid in a dark alcove, listening.
“I just want to be sure that you know what you’re doing,” said Gabriel, for once in his life not sounding like he was smirking, smiling or laughing.
felt twitchy around the archangel, aware that his own protector was being kept at bay by the hundreds of sigils layered on top of one another on the walls and property. He wanted to keep it this way, Raphael scared the ever loving shit out of him.
“I do,” answered a woman’s voice.
Chuck frowned, had he met this woman? She didn’t sound familiar.
“Why then? Why
are you doing this?”
was always easier to negotiate with, you
remember how big brother used to get, how stubborn he was once he thought he was right,” she said with traces of anger, “he could have ended
this when it started. But nooo
, he had to prove that he was in the right, that he was still the only one that mattered. It sucked beyond all telling, you know that.”
There was a silence and Chuck looked at his forearms, his skin was covered in goosebumps and he was shivering. He didn’t want to be here, listening to this.
“Shut up for a second,” the woman said again and there was a movement in the room, “one sec.”
Moving faster and more silently than he had ever moved before, Chuck ran upstairs, not wanting to be caught, not wanting to hear more of the conversation that was freaking him out on such an instinctual level.
He didn’t want to know.