Ut Animadverto Opportunus Mythology: Chapter Three (Rated:PG-13)
But first a disclaimer: This story is a product of my own mind and any resemblance to actual people and events are accidental. Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert and Tucker Carlson belong to themselves as do the entire cast and crew of their respective shows. All characters and events mentioned that are not related to the previous people and shows belong to Eric Kripke and Supernatural. I don't own them, nor do I want to, as I would not do them justice...although if I could borrow....ahem, that's besides the point, basically I don't own anything in this story except the plot. Now enjoy my pretend and very, very false world...
Title: Ut Animadverto Opportunus Mythology (or The One Where Jon And Stephen Learn About Prophets, Winchesters, and The Sewers of New York)
Characters: Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, Chuck the Prophet (a.k.a Chuck Shurley), Dean and Sam Winchester, and a surprise villain!
Rating: PG(13?)
Summary: Jon is not one to dwell on depressing subjects that have nothing to do with his job, but when it appears that someone wants him dead, he may have to change his attitude.
Chapter: The third installment (a.k.a chapter III)
Notes: More talking, sorry. I seem to be unable to actually get these guys to DO anything. They just like to talk a lot (although Dean says enough already!) We will indulge Sam and Jon this one time and that's it! Then comes the butt kicking, I promise! *blushes*. View Character List: dfhdancr.livejournal.com/8579.html
Previous Chapters Here: Chapter I - dfhdancr.livejournal.com/8413.html#cutid1
Chapter II - dfhdancr.livejournal.com/9412.html
Where Someone Is Enlightened (And Someone Else Turns Into A Girl)
It took maybe five minutes for Jon to become uncomfortable with the current situation. He had been walking a few paces behind Chuck and Sam, watching them have a very heated discussion that occasionally dissolved into shifty glances Jon's way. There was, however, a standard limit to the amount of talking that Jon permits going over his head. He usually lasts at least fifteen before needing to interject some sort of opinion (usually a humorous one), but considering this whole situation kinda revolved around him it was perfectly understandable to poke a little earlier than was his norm.
“Hey, umm, guys,” he said, more timidly than usual. To be fair, Sam could squash him like a bug if he wanted to, so the current absence of spine was totally not his fault. Sam turned his head, but continued walking and Chuck looked back once before promptly ignoring Jon's little outburst.
He tried again, “could you maybe tell me what is going on, and also why I had to write a list of people who hate and/or would like for me to die a horrible death?” Sam and Chuck shared a look, and abruptly stopped. Jon was startled and very nearly slammed into Sam's broad back but managed to prevent himself from any brain damage.
Chuck motioned for Jon to sit, which he did with a bit of apprehension. He hadn't meant talking right in the middle of New York, maybe in a nice coffee shop or diner. Food was always an excellent source of distraction if the conversation became uncomfortable (which was a very real possibility considering the subject matter). He was slightly relieved when Sam sat next to him, as he didn't want to have his neck permanently folded at a ninety degree angle. No one spoke and Jon became restless again. He looked to the less intimidating of the two, but Chuck seemed to have glued his mouth shut and appeared very interested in the cracks littering the sidewalk. Jon turned his head slightly to the stoic man next to him and had to physically prevent himself from scooting as far away as possible. Of the two brothers, Sam had been the more expressive and outgoing one. He had explained and answered all Jon and Stephen's questions and seemed to treat them equally. Now, however, his face had closed and his eyes had been shuttered with a dull glow. Sam heaved a sigh, as if preparing himself and turned to look Jon in the face.
“Look,” he said in a voice totally devoid of emotion, “once I start don't interrupt o.k? It's hard to...just don't talk.” Jon nodded and braced himself for a painful story.
Sam really, really, really didn't want to tell Jon his life story. It was hard enough to have lived it, but to have to share his most personal moments and experiences with a man he hardly knew was not something he relished doing. The topic had come up, however, and it wasn't fair to keep Jon in the dark since (if Chuck's hunch was correct, which his hunch's usually are) he was in a lot more danger than he realized. After seeing Jon's nod of understanding, Sam paused deciding where to start and settled on the visions and run in with the yellow-eyed demon.
“The day my mom died,” he began, “a demon visited me. He...ummm...well, for lack of a better word, he transferred some of his powers over to me. So, when I turned twenty-two I started having these visions where...well it doesn't matter what they were about, the point is they were a test to see which of the special children he transferred power to were strong enough to lead his army. My Dad was tracking it and researching a way to kill it, which was why he left Dean.” He gulped seeing in his minds eye, living pictures, as he related how fucked their life became. He saw Dean bleeding on the floor, his dad crying, begging for Sam to shoot him, Dean in a coma with tubes and machines the only thing keeping him alive, Dad, arguing with him and then finding him on the floor, burning Dad's body, and the weeks he and Dean didn't talk, the hole that he saw expanding every time he looked in Dean's eyes. He shook himself, and continued.
“After that, we kinda focused on my visions and figuring out what they meant. It took a year and we finally got it.” He paused, wanting to skip over the next few months but knowing he couldn't if he wanted Jon to understand, to forgive. “He took me and the rest of the special children for a final showdown. He needed the strongest, you see. He didn't need us to be his soldiers, he already had that. He needed a general. He needed someone to open the gates of hell and lead his army.”
Jon gasped and Sam stopped, looking over at him. Jon's face was pale but his eyes were cold and hard, like steel and fire. Sam studied the man for a moment, trying to understand why he was crucial enough to have the attention of Lucifer. He and Dean had watched some of the episodes and interviews trying to get clues that might point them in the right direction. He was certainly smart, with an almost Oscar Wilde like humor that was charismatic and irreverent. Mixed with his natural, cynical nature (sprung from generations of Jewish heritage and comedians) this made him both poignant and irresistible. Looking at him now Sam thought he understood the impact the man had. Although Jon was definatley shocked and scared he was holding his ground. His eyes were downcast, not in a submissive gesture, but in a thoughtful one as if he was planning his course of action, the meaning behind what Sam had told him, and what it meant. He had the capacity to get people to listen, to think, to be better and, perhaps most importantly, he had the gift of making people laugh. When Jon looked up, apparently finished with his musings, Sam continued.
“Dean tried to find me but he was to late. All I remember is relief 'cause Dean was there, then pain. Lots of pain. Dean was running and screaming. H...he never screamed that way, not even when the demon was pulling him apart.” Sam took a couple deep breath's, fortifying himself, knowing that the worst was yet to come. “He was holding me then, and crying....” He faltered and looked up at Chuck for help. Chuck's eyes were closed and he seemed to be concentrating but, as if he felt Sam's gaze, he nodded his head and gave a faint smile.
“Next thing I knew, I woke up in a room and Dean was hugging me. Then,” Sam said, rushing to get through the worst year of his life, “hell was unleashed.”
He paused again and Jon, unable to stop himself, spoke, “what happened after you were hurt?” Sam rubbed a hand over his face and answered, “I died.”
Jon frowned, confused, then his face cleared as he put the pieces together, “Oh! So that's why Dean went to hell?” Sam nodded. Then, as if trying to get it all out in one breath, he pushed forward through the following year mercilessly.
He glossed over plenty of the bad but couldn't get around the terms of the deal, Lilith, Ruby, and Dean's last twenty-four hours. He spoke in a monotone, fist clenched painfully in his lap and staring straight ahead at nothing. Truthfully, Sam hadn't thought about the previous two years for any length of time. Instead he had suppressed all the pain and desperation into a little ball, adapting Dean's personal preference to deal, right down to the feelings eating him up from the inside. He took a breath, but before Jon could say anything, continued. Hearing a noise to his right, he turned and found Jon looking at him. Just looking, no judgment, no sympathy. Nothing but a hand on Sam's arm and a small smile to show he was listening.
“The next four months were...hard.” Chuck snorted and Sam gave him an abashed look. “I wanted to die, I tried everything but none of the demons were dealing with me. So I” Sam was interrupted by Chuck's huff of annoyance and looked up.
“What did you do Sam? Huh? Share with us the agony and pain. Tell us how you remembered your brother!” Sam was startled at first, then his face grew hard and his lips curled.
“You have something to say, say it!” he growled, expecting Chuck to back down, as was his custom. Chuck simply squared his shoulders and continued, undettered.
“Do you know what it was like in hell?” Sam was shocked, this wasn't what he was expecting at all. Chuck didn't give him a chance to say anything, but plowed ahead destroying everything, leaving a shell of Sam behind.
“I know. You know how I know? Because I felt it. I felt everything Dean felt, and saw everything he saw. I did everything he did, everything.” He had stopped yelling, but what replaced it was much worse. It was a cold, hard tone that was unnatural coming from Chuck and surprised both Jon and Sam.
“I don't feel the visions, usually, but when Dean was in hell I did. Don't know why. It hurt. It wasn't physical pain only, it was emotional too. John left over and over. You left over and over. I, he didn't know what to do. Then Da-John would come back. You came back. You said the most awful things. You might've been worse, if it wasn't for John. John was the worst.” Chuck's voice broke for the first time, unable to repeat what Dean had heard, seen, in hell. Unable to say what Dean felt to the very core of his being, the reason he opened the first gate.
“Dean is, I am, still in hell. Every time he looks at you he sees you leaving, hears what you said there. Even if it wasn't you, even if you don't really want to leave it doesn't matter. Dean believes it, he tries not to. He tries so hard to believe that he deserves to live, deserves to have you Sam. He can't and it tears him apart. He tries so hard.”
At the end of Chuck's outburst Sam was crying. Chuck seemed to come out of a trance and, seeing Sam breaking before his eyes, looked remorseful and disgusted with himself. Jon simply sat, not knowing what to say or what to do. It was silent for eternity, broken by Sam's sobs. Then, as if sent by divine intervention, a sewage covered Stephen and a laughing (but only slightly wet Dean) pierced the veil of silence.
“I fucking hate sewers!” Stephen yelled, glaring at the still laughing Dean. He turned to the silent trio and smirked evilly, “so, any of you want to give me a hug?”
So yeah, kinda took a life of it's own. I didn't mean for it to get this angsty but it just...happened. Next chapter will be light and all action-y, I promise! Also, read and review once more!
Characters: Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, Chuck the Prophet (a.k.a Chuck Shurley), Dean and Sam Winchester, and a surprise villain!
Rating: PG(13?)
Summary: Jon is not one to dwell on depressing subjects that have nothing to do with his job, but when it appears that someone wants him dead, he may have to change his attitude.
Chapter: The third installment (a.k.a chapter III)
Notes: More talking, sorry. I seem to be unable to actually get these guys to DO anything. They just like to talk a lot (although Dean says enough already!) We will indulge Sam and Jon this one time and that's it! Then comes the butt kicking, I promise! *blushes*. View Character List: dfhdancr.livejournal.com/8579.html
Previous Chapters Here: Chapter I - dfhdancr.livejournal.com/8413.html#cutid1
Chapter II - dfhdancr.livejournal.com/9412.html
Where Someone Is Enlightened (And Someone Else Turns Into A Girl)
It took maybe five minutes for Jon to become uncomfortable with the current situation. He had been walking a few paces behind Chuck and Sam, watching them have a very heated discussion that occasionally dissolved into shifty glances Jon's way. There was, however, a standard limit to the amount of talking that Jon permits going over his head. He usually lasts at least fifteen before needing to interject some sort of opinion (usually a humorous one), but considering this whole situation kinda revolved around him it was perfectly understandable to poke a little earlier than was his norm.
“Hey, umm, guys,” he said, more timidly than usual. To be fair, Sam could squash him like a bug if he wanted to, so the current absence of spine was totally not his fault. Sam turned his head, but continued walking and Chuck looked back once before promptly ignoring Jon's little outburst.
He tried again, “could you maybe tell me what is going on, and also why I had to write a list of people who hate and/or would like for me to die a horrible death?” Sam and Chuck shared a look, and abruptly stopped. Jon was startled and very nearly slammed into Sam's broad back but managed to prevent himself from any brain damage.
Chuck motioned for Jon to sit, which he did with a bit of apprehension. He hadn't meant talking right in the middle of New York, maybe in a nice coffee shop or diner. Food was always an excellent source of distraction if the conversation became uncomfortable (which was a very real possibility considering the subject matter). He was slightly relieved when Sam sat next to him, as he didn't want to have his neck permanently folded at a ninety degree angle. No one spoke and Jon became restless again. He looked to the less intimidating of the two, but Chuck seemed to have glued his mouth shut and appeared very interested in the cracks littering the sidewalk. Jon turned his head slightly to the stoic man next to him and had to physically prevent himself from scooting as far away as possible. Of the two brothers, Sam had been the more expressive and outgoing one. He had explained and answered all Jon and Stephen's questions and seemed to treat them equally. Now, however, his face had closed and his eyes had been shuttered with a dull glow. Sam heaved a sigh, as if preparing himself and turned to look Jon in the face.
“Look,” he said in a voice totally devoid of emotion, “once I start don't interrupt o.k? It's hard to...just don't talk.” Jon nodded and braced himself for a painful story.
Sam really, really, really didn't want to tell Jon his life story. It was hard enough to have lived it, but to have to share his most personal moments and experiences with a man he hardly knew was not something he relished doing. The topic had come up, however, and it wasn't fair to keep Jon in the dark since (if Chuck's hunch was correct, which his hunch's usually are) he was in a lot more danger than he realized. After seeing Jon's nod of understanding, Sam paused deciding where to start and settled on the visions and run in with the yellow-eyed demon.
“The day my mom died,” he began, “a demon visited me. He...ummm...well, for lack of a better word, he transferred some of his powers over to me. So, when I turned twenty-two I started having these visions where...well it doesn't matter what they were about, the point is they were a test to see which of the special children he transferred power to were strong enough to lead his army. My Dad was tracking it and researching a way to kill it, which was why he left Dean.” He gulped seeing in his minds eye, living pictures, as he related how fucked their life became. He saw Dean bleeding on the floor, his dad crying, begging for Sam to shoot him, Dean in a coma with tubes and machines the only thing keeping him alive, Dad, arguing with him and then finding him on the floor, burning Dad's body, and the weeks he and Dean didn't talk, the hole that he saw expanding every time he looked in Dean's eyes. He shook himself, and continued.
“After that, we kinda focused on my visions and figuring out what they meant. It took a year and we finally got it.” He paused, wanting to skip over the next few months but knowing he couldn't if he wanted Jon to understand, to forgive. “He took me and the rest of the special children for a final showdown. He needed the strongest, you see. He didn't need us to be his soldiers, he already had that. He needed a general. He needed someone to open the gates of hell and lead his army.”
Jon gasped and Sam stopped, looking over at him. Jon's face was pale but his eyes were cold and hard, like steel and fire. Sam studied the man for a moment, trying to understand why he was crucial enough to have the attention of Lucifer. He and Dean had watched some of the episodes and interviews trying to get clues that might point them in the right direction. He was certainly smart, with an almost Oscar Wilde like humor that was charismatic and irreverent. Mixed with his natural, cynical nature (sprung from generations of Jewish heritage and comedians) this made him both poignant and irresistible. Looking at him now Sam thought he understood the impact the man had. Although Jon was definatley shocked and scared he was holding his ground. His eyes were downcast, not in a submissive gesture, but in a thoughtful one as if he was planning his course of action, the meaning behind what Sam had told him, and what it meant. He had the capacity to get people to listen, to think, to be better and, perhaps most importantly, he had the gift of making people laugh. When Jon looked up, apparently finished with his musings, Sam continued.
“Dean tried to find me but he was to late. All I remember is relief 'cause Dean was there, then pain. Lots of pain. Dean was running and screaming. H...he never screamed that way, not even when the demon was pulling him apart.” Sam took a couple deep breath's, fortifying himself, knowing that the worst was yet to come. “He was holding me then, and crying....” He faltered and looked up at Chuck for help. Chuck's eyes were closed and he seemed to be concentrating but, as if he felt Sam's gaze, he nodded his head and gave a faint smile.
“Next thing I knew, I woke up in a room and Dean was hugging me. Then,” Sam said, rushing to get through the worst year of his life, “hell was unleashed.”
He paused again and Jon, unable to stop himself, spoke, “what happened after you were hurt?” Sam rubbed a hand over his face and answered, “I died.”
Jon frowned, confused, then his face cleared as he put the pieces together, “Oh! So that's why Dean went to hell?” Sam nodded. Then, as if trying to get it all out in one breath, he pushed forward through the following year mercilessly.
He glossed over plenty of the bad but couldn't get around the terms of the deal, Lilith, Ruby, and Dean's last twenty-four hours. He spoke in a monotone, fist clenched painfully in his lap and staring straight ahead at nothing. Truthfully, Sam hadn't thought about the previous two years for any length of time. Instead he had suppressed all the pain and desperation into a little ball, adapting Dean's personal preference to deal, right down to the feelings eating him up from the inside. He took a breath, but before Jon could say anything, continued. Hearing a noise to his right, he turned and found Jon looking at him. Just looking, no judgment, no sympathy. Nothing but a hand on Sam's arm and a small smile to show he was listening.
“The next four months were...hard.” Chuck snorted and Sam gave him an abashed look. “I wanted to die, I tried everything but none of the demons were dealing with me. So I” Sam was interrupted by Chuck's huff of annoyance and looked up.
“What did you do Sam? Huh? Share with us the agony and pain. Tell us how you remembered your brother!” Sam was startled at first, then his face grew hard and his lips curled.
“You have something to say, say it!” he growled, expecting Chuck to back down, as was his custom. Chuck simply squared his shoulders and continued, undettered.
“Do you know what it was like in hell?” Sam was shocked, this wasn't what he was expecting at all. Chuck didn't give him a chance to say anything, but plowed ahead destroying everything, leaving a shell of Sam behind.
“I know. You know how I know? Because I felt it. I felt everything Dean felt, and saw everything he saw. I did everything he did, everything.” He had stopped yelling, but what replaced it was much worse. It was a cold, hard tone that was unnatural coming from Chuck and surprised both Jon and Sam.
“I don't feel the visions, usually, but when Dean was in hell I did. Don't know why. It hurt. It wasn't physical pain only, it was emotional too. John left over and over. You left over and over. I, he didn't know what to do. Then Da-John would come back. You came back. You said the most awful things. You might've been worse, if it wasn't for John. John was the worst.” Chuck's voice broke for the first time, unable to repeat what Dean had heard, seen, in hell. Unable to say what Dean felt to the very core of his being, the reason he opened the first gate.
“Dean is, I am, still in hell. Every time he looks at you he sees you leaving, hears what you said there. Even if it wasn't you, even if you don't really want to leave it doesn't matter. Dean believes it, he tries not to. He tries so hard to believe that he deserves to live, deserves to have you Sam. He can't and it tears him apart. He tries so hard.”
At the end of Chuck's outburst Sam was crying. Chuck seemed to come out of a trance and, seeing Sam breaking before his eyes, looked remorseful and disgusted with himself. Jon simply sat, not knowing what to say or what to do. It was silent for eternity, broken by Sam's sobs. Then, as if sent by divine intervention, a sewage covered Stephen and a laughing (but only slightly wet Dean) pierced the veil of silence.
“I fucking hate sewers!” Stephen yelled, glaring at the still laughing Dean. He turned to the silent trio and smirked evilly, “so, any of you want to give me a hug?”
So yeah, kinda took a life of it's own. I didn't mean for it to get this angsty but it just...happened. Next chapter will be light and all action-y, I promise! Also, read and review once more!