Fic: "Chuck versus the Fallen Angel" (SPN/Chuck)
“Wait, general - what is our cover going to be? You haven’t told us what video game it is,” Chuck interrupted.
“The video game is called Supernatural. You will go as fans who like to dress up as the characters - LARPers, I believe they are called. Chuck, you will be calling yourself Sam. Morgan, you will be Dean. Sarah and Casey will be there as staff members.”
“Supernatural!” Morgan exclaimed enthusiastically. “We’ve been waiting for that to come out for months. It takes up where the books left off. You can choose to be Sam or Dean or the Angel Castiel, and you have to avert the apocalypse by killing the four horsemen and using their rings...” He rambled on, oblivious to the warning growl that was beginning to emanate from Casey. General Beckman turned off her screen.
“Why do you get to be Dean?” complained Chuck. He saw Casey roll his eyes. “Well, gotta go back upstairs now... work to do. Computers to fix, and suchlike.”
XXXXXX
Two days later, Chuck and Morgan entered the building where the launch party for the game was being held. It was relatively small, with giant screens featuring the game on all the walls, and posters of the characters in any spare space. Morgan was waxing on about the advanced graphics the game was reported to have, and the excellent character development he had read about in online spoilers.
“But isn’t it kind of strange that they would put out a game now? I thought the books had stopped being published because the readership was too low,” Chuck said, trying to be professional and think like a spy. What he really wanted to do was rush over to one of the playing stations and have a go. The books were fantastic, and it looked like the game had easily maintained the standard.
Chuck looked around for anyone who looked suspicious. Most of the people attending were in pairs of one tall man and one short, wearing a leather jacket. There were a few girls, mostly dressed as sexy angels or demons. This was a hardcore fan base. Most of them probably read one of the books at least once a week, and spent the rest of their time playing video games. It was hard to imagine any of them as dangerous arms dealers.
Wait - there, standing by one of the big screens on the other side of the room. These three men looked different. Two of them were dressed like Sam and Dean, and the other was wearing a suit with a trench coat. But they were too big. Too tough looking. Muscular. They were handsome too, and not the kind of handsome that was hidden under a bad haircut and too many hours playing World of Warcraft. They looked out of place. And a trench coat, inside, in California? That was odd in anyone’s book.
“I think we should check those guys out,” said Chuck, inclining his head towards them, and dragging Morgan away from the action figurines.
XXXXXXX
“They seem to have exaggerated your musculature,” Castiel commented to Dean, indicating the image labelled ‘Dean’ on the screen. He wasn’t wrong. The avatar would have been an exaggeration of Arnold Schwarzenegger’s musculature. Dean glared at Cas anyway.
“Dude, you’re wearing a dress.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“You’re a dude. Only chicks wear dresses. And what did we say about personal space?”
Cas took a step back, and didn’t reply. Dean ignored the slightly guilty feeling this gave him.
“Well, maybe they didn’t get us quite right,” said Sam, looking at the character that was meant to be him. It almost reached the second floor window of the burning house in the background, and was even more muscular than Dean. It carried a large knife, and apparently completed the whole journey from the release of Lucifer to the end of the apocalypse without a shirt on. “At least no one will recognise us.”
“Where’s Chuck? I think we need to have a little chat,” Dean said, glancing around the room. “Oh, there’s Becky. Let’s ask her.” He set off, weaving through the crowd.
“Uhh, I think I’ll look over there,” said Sam, who seemed strangely reluctant to spend any time in Becky’s company. He walked away in the opposite direction, slipping surreptitiously through a door marked ‘staff only’.
Castiel was left alone, unsure what to do. Dean got annoyed when he stayed too close, and Sam hadn’t seemed to need him either. He felt useless. Being human was hard. He watched the screen in fascination. It really was a very unrealistic portrayal of him, he decided. As Dean would say, very chick-like. He was dressed all in white, with feathery white wings, and a glowing halo. If he had still been an angel, he would have put a stop to this abomination. But he wasn’t. He stood dejectedly, with his hands at his sides, and waited for Sam and Dean to come back.
XXXXXX
The suspicious-looking men were closely examining the screen. Searching for a code? The one in the trench coat said something, and the shorter tough guy glared at him. His reply made the trench-coated one step back. Excellent, dissention in the ranks. Casey’s voice came through Chuck’s earpiece, telling him not to approach too closely, in case they were scared off. He paused at a display of comics based on the game, not far from the possible arms dealers.
Chuck picked up a comic, trying to listen unobtrusively to their conversation. Morgan was deep in conversation with a young woman, dressed as an angel in a surprising immodest outfit. Chuck cringed as Morgan’s attempts to flirt crackled through his earpiece. He imagined Casey growling and turning his off. He flicked through the graphic novel. It was really very good. Then: “Chuck,” one of the suspects said. Chuck looked up, but it was too late to see who had said it. They were all moving off in opposite directions, except Trench Coat, who stayed, gazing at the screen unhappily.
Chuck pretended to scratch his ear, whispering into his CIA-issue watch: “They’ve split up. One of them said my name. I’ve lost two of them, but one is still here. I haven’t flashed on anyone, though.”
“Go and talk to the one you can see. Try to get him to come to the bar with you, without raising suspicion.” Sarah told him. Even the sound of her voice over an earpiece made him smile goofily.
Trench coat was still standing by the screen. He seemed unsure of what to do without his colleagues. Chuck approached, and looked at the screen, inspecting it for obvious code phrases, hoping for a flash. Nothing happened.
“Looks like a great game, huh?” Chuck grinned at the man.
“It is an inaccurate representation of the truth.” He had an odd, barely detectable accent, and spoke in a strangely stilted monotone. He stared at Chuck. It was a little bit creepy.
“Who did you come as? I’m Sam.”
“I am Castiel. You do not look like Sam.”
Chuck looked at him in surprise. Maybe they were just fans. It took a pretty serious fan to play someone who hadn’t been in the books. Although he didn’t seem like he was dressed as an angel. He didn’t even have wings. Wait, he didn’t look like Sam? He had picked his costume very carefully. He looked at the screen. Ok, maybe he didn’t look like Sam.
“Hey, why don’t you come and have a drink with me and my friend, we were just heading over to the bar, but he got a little distracted,” Chuck tried to sound friendly.
“Stop hitting on him,” growled Casey, in Chuck’s ear. Chuck winced.
“I am waiting for my friends.” Castiel said, severely.
“Say, you don’t sound like you’re from around here... where are you from?” Chuck asked.
“Nice, Chuck, not obvious at all,” Casey commented sarcastically.
“Heaven,” replied Castiel.
“Homesick? I guess we all feel that way sometimes if we’re a long way from home.”
Castiel seemed to think about something for a moment, and suddenly decided.
“I will have that drink now.”
XXXXXX
A strange man was talking to Castiel. Castiel did not speak to anyone except Dean and Sam, usually. It made him uncomfortable. This man was dressed as Sam, as Sam had been described in the Winchester gospel. He kept asking questions, and trying to make Castiel leave the place where he was waiting for the Winchesters. He was acting suspiciously. But then he remembered what Dean had said about personal space. He wasn’t Dean’s angel anymore, and couldn’t just follow him around. Dean said it was ruining his chances with ‘the ladies’. Castiel needed to make friends of his own. Maybe this man was just being friendly, and Castiel was misreading it because he was not used to being human. So he followed the man pretending to be Sam to the bar.
‘Sam’ kept up a long run of chatter as they weaved through the crowds to the bar. He talked more than the real Sam, and laughed more. He talked about how he worked fixing computers, and how his sister was a doctor and had gone to Africa. It seemed to Castiel like a very peaceful life. Halfway over to the bar, he stopped and signalled frantically to a small, bearded man who was dressed as Dean, and appeared to be trying desperately to impress a woman dressed as an angel. Castiel was disgusted by her. No true servant of heaven would dress in such a way. Having failed to get his friend’s attention, ‘Sam’ led the way to the bar.
At the bar, a beautiful blonde woman leaned over the counter to hand him a beer. There was a strange fluttering in his stomach. He took a large gulp of beer. The pretty face blurred, and he swayed, falling back into his new friend’s waiting arms, as everything went black.
“The video game is called Supernatural. You will go as fans who like to dress up as the characters - LARPers, I believe they are called. Chuck, you will be calling yourself Sam. Morgan, you will be Dean. Sarah and Casey will be there as staff members.”
“Supernatural!” Morgan exclaimed enthusiastically. “We’ve been waiting for that to come out for months. It takes up where the books left off. You can choose to be Sam or Dean or the Angel Castiel, and you have to avert the apocalypse by killing the four horsemen and using their rings...” He rambled on, oblivious to the warning growl that was beginning to emanate from Casey. General Beckman turned off her screen.
“Why do you get to be Dean?” complained Chuck. He saw Casey roll his eyes. “Well, gotta go back upstairs now... work to do. Computers to fix, and suchlike.”
XXXXXX
Two days later, Chuck and Morgan entered the building where the launch party for the game was being held. It was relatively small, with giant screens featuring the game on all the walls, and posters of the characters in any spare space. Morgan was waxing on about the advanced graphics the game was reported to have, and the excellent character development he had read about in online spoilers.
“But isn’t it kind of strange that they would put out a game now? I thought the books had stopped being published because the readership was too low,” Chuck said, trying to be professional and think like a spy. What he really wanted to do was rush over to one of the playing stations and have a go. The books were fantastic, and it looked like the game had easily maintained the standard.
Chuck looked around for anyone who looked suspicious. Most of the people attending were in pairs of one tall man and one short, wearing a leather jacket. There were a few girls, mostly dressed as sexy angels or demons. This was a hardcore fan base. Most of them probably read one of the books at least once a week, and spent the rest of their time playing video games. It was hard to imagine any of them as dangerous arms dealers.
Wait - there, standing by one of the big screens on the other side of the room. These three men looked different. Two of them were dressed like Sam and Dean, and the other was wearing a suit with a trench coat. But they were too big. Too tough looking. Muscular. They were handsome too, and not the kind of handsome that was hidden under a bad haircut and too many hours playing World of Warcraft. They looked out of place. And a trench coat, inside, in California? That was odd in anyone’s book.
“I think we should check those guys out,” said Chuck, inclining his head towards them, and dragging Morgan away from the action figurines.
XXXXXXX
“They seem to have exaggerated your musculature,” Castiel commented to Dean, indicating the image labelled ‘Dean’ on the screen. He wasn’t wrong. The avatar would have been an exaggeration of Arnold Schwarzenegger’s musculature. Dean glared at Cas anyway.
“Dude, you’re wearing a dress.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“You’re a dude. Only chicks wear dresses. And what did we say about personal space?”
Cas took a step back, and didn’t reply. Dean ignored the slightly guilty feeling this gave him.
“Well, maybe they didn’t get us quite right,” said Sam, looking at the character that was meant to be him. It almost reached the second floor window of the burning house in the background, and was even more muscular than Dean. It carried a large knife, and apparently completed the whole journey from the release of Lucifer to the end of the apocalypse without a shirt on. “At least no one will recognise us.”
“Where’s Chuck? I think we need to have a little chat,” Dean said, glancing around the room. “Oh, there’s Becky. Let’s ask her.” He set off, weaving through the crowd.
“Uhh, I think I’ll look over there,” said Sam, who seemed strangely reluctant to spend any time in Becky’s company. He walked away in the opposite direction, slipping surreptitiously through a door marked ‘staff only’.
Castiel was left alone, unsure what to do. Dean got annoyed when he stayed too close, and Sam hadn’t seemed to need him either. He felt useless. Being human was hard. He watched the screen in fascination. It really was a very unrealistic portrayal of him, he decided. As Dean would say, very chick-like. He was dressed all in white, with feathery white wings, and a glowing halo. If he had still been an angel, he would have put a stop to this abomination. But he wasn’t. He stood dejectedly, with his hands at his sides, and waited for Sam and Dean to come back.
XXXXXX
The suspicious-looking men were closely examining the screen. Searching for a code? The one in the trench coat said something, and the shorter tough guy glared at him. His reply made the trench-coated one step back. Excellent, dissention in the ranks. Casey’s voice came through Chuck’s earpiece, telling him not to approach too closely, in case they were scared off. He paused at a display of comics based on the game, not far from the possible arms dealers.
Chuck picked up a comic, trying to listen unobtrusively to their conversation. Morgan was deep in conversation with a young woman, dressed as an angel in a surprising immodest outfit. Chuck cringed as Morgan’s attempts to flirt crackled through his earpiece. He imagined Casey growling and turning his off. He flicked through the graphic novel. It was really very good. Then: “Chuck,” one of the suspects said. Chuck looked up, but it was too late to see who had said it. They were all moving off in opposite directions, except Trench Coat, who stayed, gazing at the screen unhappily.
Chuck pretended to scratch his ear, whispering into his CIA-issue watch: “They’ve split up. One of them said my name. I’ve lost two of them, but one is still here. I haven’t flashed on anyone, though.”
“Go and talk to the one you can see. Try to get him to come to the bar with you, without raising suspicion.” Sarah told him. Even the sound of her voice over an earpiece made him smile goofily.
Trench coat was still standing by the screen. He seemed unsure of what to do without his colleagues. Chuck approached, and looked at the screen, inspecting it for obvious code phrases, hoping for a flash. Nothing happened.
“Looks like a great game, huh?” Chuck grinned at the man.
“It is an inaccurate representation of the truth.” He had an odd, barely detectable accent, and spoke in a strangely stilted monotone. He stared at Chuck. It was a little bit creepy.
“Who did you come as? I’m Sam.”
“I am Castiel. You do not look like Sam.”
Chuck looked at him in surprise. Maybe they were just fans. It took a pretty serious fan to play someone who hadn’t been in the books. Although he didn’t seem like he was dressed as an angel. He didn’t even have wings. Wait, he didn’t look like Sam? He had picked his costume very carefully. He looked at the screen. Ok, maybe he didn’t look like Sam.
“Hey, why don’t you come and have a drink with me and my friend, we were just heading over to the bar, but he got a little distracted,” Chuck tried to sound friendly.
“Stop hitting on him,” growled Casey, in Chuck’s ear. Chuck winced.
“I am waiting for my friends.” Castiel said, severely.
“Say, you don’t sound like you’re from around here... where are you from?” Chuck asked.
“Nice, Chuck, not obvious at all,” Casey commented sarcastically.
“Heaven,” replied Castiel.
“Homesick? I guess we all feel that way sometimes if we’re a long way from home.”
Castiel seemed to think about something for a moment, and suddenly decided.
“I will have that drink now.”
XXXXXX
A strange man was talking to Castiel. Castiel did not speak to anyone except Dean and Sam, usually. It made him uncomfortable. This man was dressed as Sam, as Sam had been described in the Winchester gospel. He kept asking questions, and trying to make Castiel leave the place where he was waiting for the Winchesters. He was acting suspiciously. But then he remembered what Dean had said about personal space. He wasn’t Dean’s angel anymore, and couldn’t just follow him around. Dean said it was ruining his chances with ‘the ladies’. Castiel needed to make friends of his own. Maybe this man was just being friendly, and Castiel was misreading it because he was not used to being human. So he followed the man pretending to be Sam to the bar.
‘Sam’ kept up a long run of chatter as they weaved through the crowds to the bar. He talked more than the real Sam, and laughed more. He talked about how he worked fixing computers, and how his sister was a doctor and had gone to Africa. It seemed to Castiel like a very peaceful life. Halfway over to the bar, he stopped and signalled frantically to a small, bearded man who was dressed as Dean, and appeared to be trying desperately to impress a woman dressed as an angel. Castiel was disgusted by her. No true servant of heaven would dress in such a way. Having failed to get his friend’s attention, ‘Sam’ led the way to the bar.
At the bar, a beautiful blonde woman leaned over the counter to hand him a beer. There was a strange fluttering in his stomach. He took a large gulp of beer. The pretty face blurred, and he swayed, falling back into his new friend’s waiting arms, as everything went black.