Supernatural - Advance Warning
Title: Advance Warning
Author: Brutti ma buoni
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Dean Winchester, Chuck Shurley
Length: 600
Rating: PG
Spoilers: spoilers for 5.04 The End
Warnings: minor language, implied death of millions offscreen
Prompt: 457. Supernatural - Dean&Chuck - Croatoan!verse - 'you got ten minutes to pack, Chuck.' 'I've been ready to go for a week.'
Also available on AO3
Chuck knows what's coming before anyone else. (Obviously. That would be the purpose of prophecy.) The angels are especially generous this time, so he also sees the words Croatoan Virus Hot Zone before anyone else. Sees the biohazard warnings; the mass exterminations; the packs of infected victims taking city centres in hours; the army - trapped, desperate, traumatised - killing fellow citizens to save the world against some nice music from the Sixties that Chuck will never listen to again.
Chuck gets it all, in the space of one spectacularly unpleasant night in May 2012. He also sees Detroit, and what happens to Sam that same night, so when Dean turns up at his door a week later, Chuck at least doesn't have to bother asking, "Where's Sam?"
(In the next couple of months, Chuck watches a lot of people ask Dean that question, and he never sees more than a flicker of reaction ("I hear there was a heavyweight showdown," says Dean, shrugging. He uses those exact words every time, monotonous and self-protecting). Chuck's angel-given talents though, they give him a pretty good idea of what happens inside Dean's skull every time. Which, in turn, gives him a damned bad headache. Dean may not have seen his brother in a month of Sundays, but that doesn't mean he doesn't give a damn.)
"I've been ready to go for a week." Chuck's not kidding. Clothes are the least of his preparations, which are otherwise heavy on water purification, bourbon and ammunition. (In the next couple of months, Chuck will be glad about all of these choices, and very sad that toilet paper didn't even make it onto his radar. In the next couple of years, this will become the single thought that confirms that being the Prophet of the Winchesters sucks absolute ass. Toilet paper. For fuck's sake. It's so simple.)
Anyway.
Dean's still driving the Impala at this point, though Chuck can already see how she's going to die in the next few months. Crotes don't appreciate fine design. Dean hurts every time they ding up the bodywork, and the rest of the guys argue for bigger, newer cars with armour plating and a faster turn that'll get them out of a tight spot. Two guys will die one time when the Impala can't drive them out of a scrimmage of Crotes, rear windscreen broken in and the guys dragged out screaming. That's the last time she will be used.
(The rest of the guys? They will exist, Chuck knows it. There's some hunters, some brave civilians, a couple of other psychics that Bobby Singer keeps an eye out for, and some waifs and strays they pick up on the way to finding a settled home; what will eventually become Camp Chitaqua, deep in the woods away from Crote-attracting human creations. There's Castiel, powers draining away already, and fading faster with every future month.)
Another reason that being a Prophet sucks ass - as if Chuck needed another - is that he knows all of this, and feels all of this, and can't say a word of it to Dean. Some guys get to stop the Apocalypse, or die trying. Chuck gets to watch.
So he gets into the Impala with his supplies, and he keeps his mouth shut, and he heads into the future of the death of humankind, with some water purification tables, some bourbon and a shit-ton of ammunition for guns he's never used before.
Fucking zombie apocalypse.
***
Author: Brutti ma buoni
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Dean Winchester, Chuck Shurley
Length: 600
Rating: PG
Spoilers: spoilers for 5.04 The End
Warnings: minor language, implied death of millions offscreen
Prompt: 457. Supernatural - Dean&Chuck - Croatoan!verse - 'you got ten minutes to pack, Chuck.' 'I've been ready to go for a week.'
Also available on AO3
Chuck knows what's coming before anyone else. (Obviously. That would be the purpose of prophecy.) The angels are especially generous this time, so he also sees the words Croatoan Virus Hot Zone before anyone else. Sees the biohazard warnings; the mass exterminations; the packs of infected victims taking city centres in hours; the army - trapped, desperate, traumatised - killing fellow citizens to save the world against some nice music from the Sixties that Chuck will never listen to again.
Chuck gets it all, in the space of one spectacularly unpleasant night in May 2012. He also sees Detroit, and what happens to Sam that same night, so when Dean turns up at his door a week later, Chuck at least doesn't have to bother asking, "Where's Sam?"
(In the next couple of months, Chuck watches a lot of people ask Dean that question, and he never sees more than a flicker of reaction ("I hear there was a heavyweight showdown," says Dean, shrugging. He uses those exact words every time, monotonous and self-protecting). Chuck's angel-given talents though, they give him a pretty good idea of what happens inside Dean's skull every time. Which, in turn, gives him a damned bad headache. Dean may not have seen his brother in a month of Sundays, but that doesn't mean he doesn't give a damn.)
"I've been ready to go for a week." Chuck's not kidding. Clothes are the least of his preparations, which are otherwise heavy on water purification, bourbon and ammunition. (In the next couple of months, Chuck will be glad about all of these choices, and very sad that toilet paper didn't even make it onto his radar. In the next couple of years, this will become the single thought that confirms that being the Prophet of the Winchesters sucks absolute ass. Toilet paper. For fuck's sake. It's so simple.)
Anyway.
Dean's still driving the Impala at this point, though Chuck can already see how she's going to die in the next few months. Crotes don't appreciate fine design. Dean hurts every time they ding up the bodywork, and the rest of the guys argue for bigger, newer cars with armour plating and a faster turn that'll get them out of a tight spot. Two guys will die one time when the Impala can't drive them out of a scrimmage of Crotes, rear windscreen broken in and the guys dragged out screaming. That's the last time she will be used.
(The rest of the guys? They will exist, Chuck knows it. There's some hunters, some brave civilians, a couple of other psychics that Bobby Singer keeps an eye out for, and some waifs and strays they pick up on the way to finding a settled home; what will eventually become Camp Chitaqua, deep in the woods away from Crote-attracting human creations. There's Castiel, powers draining away already, and fading faster with every future month.)
Another reason that being a Prophet sucks ass - as if Chuck needed another - is that he knows all of this, and feels all of this, and can't say a word of it to Dean. Some guys get to stop the Apocalypse, or die trying. Chuck gets to watch.
So he gets into the Impala with his supplies, and he keeps his mouth shut, and he heads into the future of the death of humankind, with some water purification tables, some bourbon and a shit-ton of ammunition for guns he's never used before.
Fucking zombie apocalypse.
***