Fic: Curtain (PG)
May. 18th, 2010 07:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apocalypsosTitle: Curtain
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
apocalypsos
Fandom: Supernatural
Spoilers: 5.22
Summary: Next time, he would simply have to hide better.
Curtain
*
Chuck Shurley opens his eyes the precise moment that Sam pulls a struggling Michael into the cage with him. He hisses in a sharp breath.
"Oh, man," he says, a distinct and embarrassing whine to his voice. "I really am a cruel and capricious god."
*
The first one was Thomas.
Thomas was a serf. He tended his land and married a nice young woman from three farms over. She gave him three wonderful children, but Death took all four of them back without apology when plague swept through the town.
Thomas didn't complain. There was nothing to complain about. Heaven was a nice place, after all.
Thomas moved on to another farm, and another wife. This one he lost in childbirth, felled by a child too deformed to be safely removed in time. Thomas was not having a good life, but since he was no more miserable than a great many other people, he kept his mouth shut and his eyes to the sky.
In the end, Thomas lived to the ripe old age of sixty. The angels still came to him every day, all day, needing his guidance and wisdom.
Next time, he would simply have to hide better.
*
Chuck isn't sure what to do next for one glorious second, which is weird because he suddenly knows everything and because, quite frankly, every second he possesses will technically be glorious from now on. That's a little intimidating to ponder.
He knows who he is now, though. It explains a lot.
There are a lot of things it didn't explain, too, and his burgeoning mind races to examine each and every confusing thing that has gone on in the past –
Chuck frowns. Okay, he might need more than one glorious second for this. Probably two. Three if he's pushing it.
*
The next time, he was Pedro.
Pedro was a pirate. He drank and wenched and stole. He sinned like he was working his way up to stealing Lucifer's seat in Hell. He broke every rule put in front of him and even a few he made up for himself.
He quite enjoyed being Pedro, all of the sinning notwithstanding.
Unfortunately, the sinning was what got him in the end. He did quite well at veiling himself for one short human lifetime, just long enough for a bit of a break, but all of the sinning called for a trip somewhere other than Heaven. The one who came to claim him nearly pissed herself in fear when she recognized him.
Next time, he would simply have to hide better.
*
Chuck is going to pour himself a scotch.
A full glass of scotch appears before him. He knows it'll be the expensive stuff, the kind of scotch you'd almost rather marvel at than drink.
Chuck pours himself another scotch anyway, staring at the magically appearing glass with uneasy suspicion as he does so.
*
The next time, he is a woman.
Gerta is a milkmaid. She's big-boned and healthy and her father's girl through and through. Her father is a shepherd, a good man. His greetings and goodbyes are kisses to her forehead which leave behind reddish marks on her skin from his rough beard.
Gerta loves the boy down the lane, and her father, and her simple beautiful life. Gerta is happy to be alive.
Gerta even finds it in herself to love her life when the invading soldiers corner her in the family barn, when they leer and make threats in another language, when they cut off her escape moments before they cut away her clothes.
It was a good life she had, even before that, and when Death tsks her six hours afterward she even manages to restrain herself from mentioning that this time it almost worked. That there were no angels, and no memories of Heaven, and aside from the obscene nightmares which crept through the veil every night and terrified her to tears, she was perfectly happy for the short stretch of her life.
Next time, she would simply have to hide better.
*
Chuck wonders if now he's supposed to go and take charge or something. He's terrible at taking charge. He couldn't even keep his high school job as junior manager at Burger King, for heaven's sake.
Chuck knocks back one of the scotches. It doesn't seem to be working quite so well anymore.
**
The next time, he is Francesco.
Francesco is a priest, and a good one. He loves his work for the Lord, which helps. He has visions, painful awful visions of death and destruction. He writes down who he sees, but it's never quite enough to help, and he never tells a soul lest he be burned for witchcraft.
He visits the Vatican one day, there to make a simple request for his poor rural church. He turns the wrong corner and nearly runs into a strange unkempt man, a man he doesn't recognize but recognizes just the same. The man carries weapons all over his person – even Francesco can spot that much – and moves his body like a silent threat. This man is a warrior for the Lord.
Francesco has great respect for him, until the amulet around his neck begins to steam.
The hunter rips it away, delivering ungodly curses in a vicious stream, but even holding it in his leather-gloved hand wouldn't stifle the steam. Francesco watches in confusion as the hunter drops the amulet to the floor, staring at the heat rising from it, melting and scorching the stone floor.
Francesco crosses himself, but the amulet doesn't stop burning.
The hunter raises his gaze to Francesco, and his eyes narrow.
Next time, he would simply have to hide better.
*
Chuck's first coherent thought that doesn't involve drinking or shooting himself in the head to end it all is that he could fix a lot.
*
This last time, he is Chuck Shurley.
Charles means "free man," which seems a bit like trying too hard with the accompanying surname. "Yes, of course I'm a free man. Just a normal human. Nothing to see here."
Chuck Shurley is born to a single mother who's an Easter-and-Christmas Christian, so Chuck never does go to church that much. He does well enough in school not to be a complete embarrassment, and makes just enough friends not to get beat up on a regular basis. He doesn't major in anything in college, not even English or creative writing or anything else that will help him later in life.
He starts having visions, and he has no idea why, but what he does know is that they hurt like hell.
He likes being Chuck, even if Chuck himself would be loathe to admit that. He wishes the visions didn't get worse the more he tries to hide himself, and that his powers never truly go all the way away. But the angels can't recognize him and that amulet doesn't glow, and that's all that matters in the end.
He may actually be getting the hang of this hiding thing.
*
Chuck smiles as things settle in his brain, and thinks of Dean and Sam, of Castiel and the rest of his wayward children, of Bobby and the dozens of other casualties to this possible apocalypse.
He waves a hand, and things change.
Author:
apocalypsosFandom: Supernatural
Spoilers: 5.22
Summary: Next time, he would simply have to hide better.
Chuck Shurley opens his eyes the precise moment that Sam pulls a struggling Michael into the cage with him. He hisses in a sharp breath.
"Oh, man," he says, a distinct and embarrassing whine to his voice. "I really am a cruel and capricious god."
The first one was Thomas.
Thomas was a serf. He tended his land and married a nice young woman from three farms over. She gave him three wonderful children, but Death took all four of them back without apology when plague swept through the town.
Thomas didn't complain. There was nothing to complain about. Heaven was a nice place, after all.
Thomas moved on to another farm, and another wife. This one he lost in childbirth, felled by a child too deformed to be safely removed in time. Thomas was not having a good life, but since he was no more miserable than a great many other people, he kept his mouth shut and his eyes to the sky.
In the end, Thomas lived to the ripe old age of sixty. The angels still came to him every day, all day, needing his guidance and wisdom.
Next time, he would simply have to hide better.
Chuck isn't sure what to do next for one glorious second, which is weird because he suddenly knows everything and because, quite frankly, every second he possesses will technically be glorious from now on. That's a little intimidating to ponder.
He knows who he is now, though. It explains a lot.
There are a lot of things it didn't explain, too, and his burgeoning mind races to examine each and every confusing thing that has gone on in the past –
Chuck frowns. Okay, he might need more than one glorious second for this. Probably two. Three if he's pushing it.
The next time, he was Pedro.
Pedro was a pirate. He drank and wenched and stole. He sinned like he was working his way up to stealing Lucifer's seat in Hell. He broke every rule put in front of him and even a few he made up for himself.
He quite enjoyed being Pedro, all of the sinning notwithstanding.
Unfortunately, the sinning was what got him in the end. He did quite well at veiling himself for one short human lifetime, just long enough for a bit of a break, but all of the sinning called for a trip somewhere other than Heaven. The one who came to claim him nearly pissed herself in fear when she recognized him.
Next time, he would simply have to hide better.
Chuck is going to pour himself a scotch.
A full glass of scotch appears before him. He knows it'll be the expensive stuff, the kind of scotch you'd almost rather marvel at than drink.
Chuck pours himself another scotch anyway, staring at the magically appearing glass with uneasy suspicion as he does so.
The next time, he is a woman.
Gerta is a milkmaid. She's big-boned and healthy and her father's girl through and through. Her father is a shepherd, a good man. His greetings and goodbyes are kisses to her forehead which leave behind reddish marks on her skin from his rough beard.
Gerta loves the boy down the lane, and her father, and her simple beautiful life. Gerta is happy to be alive.
Gerta even finds it in herself to love her life when the invading soldiers corner her in the family barn, when they leer and make threats in another language, when they cut off her escape moments before they cut away her clothes.
It was a good life she had, even before that, and when Death tsks her six hours afterward she even manages to restrain herself from mentioning that this time it almost worked. That there were no angels, and no memories of Heaven, and aside from the obscene nightmares which crept through the veil every night and terrified her to tears, she was perfectly happy for the short stretch of her life.
Next time, she would simply have to hide better.
Chuck wonders if now he's supposed to go and take charge or something. He's terrible at taking charge. He couldn't even keep his high school job as junior manager at Burger King, for heaven's sake.
Chuck knocks back one of the scotches. It doesn't seem to be working quite so well anymore.
*
The next time, he is Francesco.
Francesco is a priest, and a good one. He loves his work for the Lord, which helps. He has visions, painful awful visions of death and destruction. He writes down who he sees, but it's never quite enough to help, and he never tells a soul lest he be burned for witchcraft.
He visits the Vatican one day, there to make a simple request for his poor rural church. He turns the wrong corner and nearly runs into a strange unkempt man, a man he doesn't recognize but recognizes just the same. The man carries weapons all over his person – even Francesco can spot that much – and moves his body like a silent threat. This man is a warrior for the Lord.
Francesco has great respect for him, until the amulet around his neck begins to steam.
The hunter rips it away, delivering ungodly curses in a vicious stream, but even holding it in his leather-gloved hand wouldn't stifle the steam. Francesco watches in confusion as the hunter drops the amulet to the floor, staring at the heat rising from it, melting and scorching the stone floor.
Francesco crosses himself, but the amulet doesn't stop burning.
The hunter raises his gaze to Francesco, and his eyes narrow.
Next time, he would simply have to hide better.
Chuck's first coherent thought that doesn't involve drinking or shooting himself in the head to end it all is that he could fix a lot.
This last time, he is Chuck Shurley.
Charles means "free man," which seems a bit like trying too hard with the accompanying surname. "Yes, of course I'm a free man. Just a normal human. Nothing to see here."
Chuck Shurley is born to a single mother who's an Easter-and-Christmas Christian, so Chuck never does go to church that much. He does well enough in school not to be a complete embarrassment, and makes just enough friends not to get beat up on a regular basis. He doesn't major in anything in college, not even English or creative writing or anything else that will help him later in life.
He starts having visions, and he has no idea why, but what he does know is that they hurt like hell.
He likes being Chuck, even if Chuck himself would be loathe to admit that. He wishes the visions didn't get worse the more he tries to hide himself, and that his powers never truly go all the way away. But the angels can't recognize him and that amulet doesn't glow, and that's all that matters in the end.
He may actually be getting the hang of this hiding thing.
Chuck smiles as things settle in his brain, and thinks of Dean and Sam, of Castiel and the rest of his wayward children, of Bobby and the dozens of other casualties to this possible apocalypse.
He waves a hand, and things change.
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no subject
Date: 2010-05-18 06:09 pm (UTC)