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Post by Chuck Shurley on Apr 27, 2009 22:40:35 GMT -4
A cry, split the air, wrenching free from the throat of Chuck Shurley who writhed against some unseen force, limbs trembling with the intensity of whatever held him.
Chuck, awoke bathed in a sheen of sweat, his breath coming in long, drawn-out gasps as he tried to capture the air that was escaping him in heavy pants. He ran his hands through his clammy locks, groaning as he let himself fall back against the damp pillows, his thin t-shirt clinging to his heaving frame. His fingers were stiff, white knuckled against the dark blue of his sheets, fisted tightly in the fabric as he tried to center himself in the here and the now.
He had had another one of those dreams, this one having descended upon him so hard and fast that Chuck had barely realized he was slipping into sleep before it gripped him. The events of the vision had tugged him, tumbling along through every bit of detail so vivid, that the only aspect that was missing was taste and touch...and even that wasn't so hard to imagine.
They had only grown worse since the night Zachariah had visited him. It seemed every time he closed his eyes his mind was torn apart by visions of things to come. Chuck leaned over the side of the bed and retched no longer able to make the room around him stop spinning.
This was ridiculous.
Making a split decision, Chuck pulled himself out of bed and marched over to his desk and picked up the phone, fishing around for the piece of paper he had thrust into one of the drawers that contained the phone numbers of the Winchesters. He smoothed the crumpled sheet on his desk and carefully dialed Dean's number.
It was picked up on the first ring.
"Hola?" answered a pleasant female voice.
Chuck blinked, momentarily bewildered and squinted at the number again.
"Uh, Dean?"
"Si esto es una solicitación por favor nos toma de su lista!" trilled the voice at the other end, suddenly angry. She muttered something else in Spanish and hung up.
The writer replaced the receiver and determinedly dialed the number again, careful to press each button in the correct order, slowly.
This time, the phone rang five times before someone picked up.
"Hello?" he asked cautiously.
"Thank you for calling Wells Fargo Customer Care. To better serve you, please listen to our list of options as our menu has changed. For English, please stay on the line. Por Espanol, para numero dos."
Chuck hung up the phone, and prepared to dial again when a voice interrupted his thoughts causing him to drop the cell phone on to the floor.
"You could keep doing that all day, if that is your wish, but I doubt you would ever get through to Dean Winchester."
The prophet whirled and stumbled back against the desk, his heart hammering in his narrow chest. He stared wild-eyed at the empty living room that greeted him; nobody was in the house save for himself…for a change.
Running a shaking hand through his hair Chuck shrugged into his jacket and left the house as fast as he could. If he couldn’t call the Winchesters then he would get in contact with them another way…any other way.
After an hour and a half of walking in circles…unintentionally Chuck gave up for the moment and staggered his way into the dinner he had now passed several times. It didn’t take a genius or a prophet to figure out that somewhere there was an angel who was having an awfully good time jacking him around like a puppet. Slumping down miserably into the booth the prophet ordered a cup of coffee his head banging upon the table in front of him as he slumped down further wishing the floor would just swallow him entirely.
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Post by Bianca Pagliaro on Apr 28, 2009 7:27:27 GMT -4
Bianca wasn't sure why her evenings resulted in turning themselves into mornings more often than not. One second she was turning off Craig Ferguson to head out on some type of hunt, and then next Meridith Viera was wide awake on the Today Show.
She'd been in her motel room for about 20 minutes. That was long enough to realize she wasn't tired enough to sleep yet. Food could usually exhaust her pretty quickly, so she figured if she ate she'd be asleep in under half an hour.
The diner wasn't far from the room she'd booked. It was a good place to go and sort out the evening's events. Now, she was settled in a back corner booth, a journal open in front of her. She was jotting down a few notes on the spirit she'd seen last night, all the while trying to conjure up a sketch of him.
As she looked up to regain her thoughts, Bianca watched a young guy walk into the diner. Poor guy looked pretty weary. She wondered if he was traveling-or just making his way in from a long night too. Whatever he'd done, she hoped it was more fun than her.
Motioning over the waitress, Bianca nodded towards the guy's table.
"Hey, do me a favor and take him a pot of coffee and some sort of muffin-whatever's good. He looks pretty exhausted."
She gave the woman and quick smile before kicking her feet up on the seat across from her and returning to her journal.
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Post by Chuck Shurley on Apr 28, 2009 19:40:34 GMT -4
Chuck held his head in his hands if only to stop himself from face planting into the table. It was exhausting; the whole damn angels and demons and prophets and end of the world shit was exhausting and he had long since wondered how much he had it in him to be able to continue. If it had been up to him…which it wasn’t he would have kept on writing all be it oblivious to the whole damn thing. But apparently that train of thought was an epic failure and had been unanimously shot down by the powers that be.
Every sound in the dinner made him flinch as it tore through his pounding head. He of course knew what a pounding headache meant but he would be damned if he was going through another “wake up screaming bloody murder” prophecy just yet; one was enough for the day…friggin greedy ass angels.
He hadn’t even noticed the darkness creep in around him and the vision begin to take hold until his head jerked up startled as he about took out the waitress who stood at the edge of the table looking at him as if he had sprouted 10 heads.
“Sorry…really sorry,” Chuck muttered as he forced himself to sit up straight and get his wits about him as best as he could.
Chuck watched the waitress with a look of confusion as she set down a pot of coffee and a rather large muffin on the table; before he could the chance to protest though she cut him clean off.
“Lady up there at the bar sent ‘em for you,” and with that “Pat” was gone just as quickly as she had appeared.
Chuck’s eyes stared down at the food and coffee for a moment before looking at the woman the waitress had indicated. His eyes narrowed for a second as he put the pieces together; apparently angels attempted to be more civilized in public. Chuck forced himself out of his chair attempting not to stumble as his pounding head seemed to not be a fan of that action. By the grace of God…or well whoever he made his way over to the woman…angel and stared at her for a moment not recalling her face from anything he had seen but then again that meant nothing.
“Why have you things decided to make my life a living hell?” Chuck asked simply; it was an honest question; one he thought he deserved an answer to.
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Post by Bianca Pagliaro on Apr 28, 2009 21:11:27 GMT -4
Bianca looked down at her journal only to realize that she had stopped writing words and was now sketching a Sasquatch.
"Seriously?" She sighed, shaking her head at herself in disgust. She had way too many creatures on the brain. But in all honesty, Bigfoot was one of her favorite creatures.
Ghosts, you're dealing with ghosts right now. Bianca reminded herself.
The spirit she was dealing with the night before was a man who just confused. Bianca wasn't sure if he even knew he was dead. She was going to have to try and talk to him tonight. After she got some sleep.
“Why have you things decided to make my life a living hell?”
"Huh?" Bianca glanced up. She saw the guy she'd ordered the food for standing beside her. Raising an eyebrow, she decided he must have been suffering from some serious sleep depravation.
Things? This guy must have had some serious bad luck with girls.
"Dude, ok, so you don't like muffins. It's cool, they aren't for everyone." Bianca took a quick sip of her own coffee and tossed back her hair.
"Look buddy, you don't look so hot. I figured food solved most problems, so I got you a muffin. You want some eggs instead?"
She gave the guy a bright smile. If he was as exhausted as he looked, he needed someone to help him out. She spent so much of her time alone and wishing someone would show her a bit of compassion, she was willing to offer it to someone else.
Bianca reached over and pulled her green messenger bag out of the way. Bookmarking her journal with her pen, she laid the book down on top. She didn't really want an exhausted guy passing out on the floor. That would seriously cut into her nap time, that and she wasn't sure how to explain the situation to girlfriends or wives.
"You can sit, if you want. I'm Bianca, by the way. Bianca Pagliaro."
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Post by Chuck Shurley on Apr 29, 2009 1:13:27 GMT -4
Chuck stared determinedly back at the woman…angel his stance attempting to hold as much bravado as a man who was pretty much run down into the ground could have. On a scale of 1 – 10 his attempt landed him in the -5 range for success. A look of total confusion crossed Chuck’s face as the woman…angel before him responded in the completely opposite way that he had expected her too. Usually it was all angel meets prophet with a touch of angelic hoodoo threats thrown in for good measure right off the bat; but this was a new game and Chuck really didn’t know if he had the strength to play it.
He didn’t look so hot…well that was understatement of the year.
“Do you know why? Well I mean yes I know that you know why I look like hell but since you brought it up in conversation I suppose the only just thing to do would be to answer your question. I don’t look so hot because I just spent the last hour and a half walking around in freaking circles! Why? Oh well because you angelic pains in my ass see fit to rip me from one end to the other like I’m Pinocchio or something,” Chuck exclaimed his voice shaking with the emotions he felt burning through him. He was tired and it had nothing to do with the physical aspect, he was far past that point in time.
“…All I want to do is help…”
Chuck’s voice was broken…hell Chuck was broken had been for awhile now the angels had just found a way to magnify it. Chuck’s eyes stared back at Bianca’s pleadingly for a moment as he waited for her to say something…anything really. But he knew that no matter what she said what any of the angels said it wouldn’t change it. This…this whole thing was far too big for him; far too big for him to want any part of.
“Tell your boss I quit,” Chuck grumbled as he pushed himself haphazardly away from the bar and through the creaky diner doors and out into the bright morning sun. The world around Chuck could have been engulfed in flames and Chuck wouldn’t have noticed much as he trudged his way to the payphone which lay nested next to the diner and fished out the proper change for a call as well as the wrinkled piece of paper in his pocket before he dared dial again.
The phone rang…and rang … and rang … and rang …paused … and then rang once more for good measure.
“Hello?...Dea…”
“Hello and thank you for calling the suicide hotline…
Chuck stared down at the receiver in his hands for a moment dumbfounded as he attempted to comprehend the massive disaster that had become his life before he slammed the receiver down against the phone enough to crack the hand set before crumpling down upon the sidewalk his head buried in his hands.
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Post by Bianca Pagliaro on Apr 29, 2009 17:12:27 GMT -4
Bianca stared blankly at the guy. This had just taken a completely bizarre twist.
Angelic pains in my ass? Was that figure of speech or had he just called her an angel?
If he'd called her an angel because of her personality, well, she appreciated the compliment. But he wasn't exactly acting like someone who was thrilled with her. Bianca raised her eyebrows. This guy was either drunk, seriously sleep deprived, or all sorts of crazy.
"Tell your boss I quit."
And all sorts of crazy it was. Bianca shook her head blankly.
"Don't have a boss, dude, but if I get one I'll give him the message." She made it a point of openly turning away from the guy and refocusing herself on her journal and her breakfast.
She finished her coffee and the muffin she'd ordered for the weird guy. Bianca gave herself credit for attempting to show humans the same compassion she had for spirits, even though most humans hadn't really done a damn thing for her in her life. But maybe she was better than some people-at least her useless family anyway.
Paying her tab, Bianca tossed her journal into her messenger bag. She slung the bag across her body and got up. She pulled her Mustang keys out of her pocket. Pushing the door open, she caught sight of the weird guy sitting on the sidewalk.
"Dude, seriously, go home, sleep whatever you're on off." Bianca stepped around him to continue her pathway to the Mustang. Unlocking the car, she tossed her bag onto the passenger's seat and climbed in.
But Bianca couldn't take her eyes off of the guy. She knew if she didn't make one more attempt at him, she'd feel guilty about it.
"You're going to get yourself killed by some whacked out serial killer someday." Bianca grumbled. She could see it happening now.
"Hell, we've all gotta go some day." Bianca grabbed a scrap of paper from the back of her journal. Writing the address of the motel she was staying in and her cell number, she got out of the car.
"Here." She folded the piece of paper and slipped it in between the weird guy's fingers. "Seriously, you can't sit out here all day. Go home. If you don't have any place to go, call me and I'll figure out someway to help you out. Seriously, dude, listen to me."
Bianca dropped down on her knees in front of the guy and placed her hand on his arm.
"I've been down on my luck before and no one's been there to help me out, so I hate to see it happen to someone else. Call me if you need me."
She headed back into her car. Starting the engine, Bianca backed the Stang out of its parking spot and headed down the road. Pulling in front of her motel room, she got out and slammed the door.
The room was pretty shabby-one bed with a ratty comforter, yellowing wallpaper and torn up carpet. Bianca plugged her cell phone in to charge. Then she changed into a pair of gray sweatpants and a faded out Jimmy Buffet t shirt. While she was brushing her teeth, Bianca really couldn't stop feeling bad for the guy. Sure, he was whacked out, but her family had said that same thing about her.
"Whatever." She grumbled. She pulled a stuffed Hello Kitty doll out of her bag, tossed it onto the bed and climbed in. There was nothing wrong with getting a decent amount of sleep before heading home.
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Post by Chuck Shurley on Apr 29, 2009 23:41:57 GMT -4
Chuck barely heard Bianca as she walked by him and towards her car; it wasn’t until he felt her hand upon his arm that his head shot up and his blood shot eyes locked on to hers. He held the piece of paper she had handed to him tightly in his hand as he tried to figure out what exactly the woman in front of him was. He would have sworn she was an angel just like all the others that just randomly showed up and made life all the less desirable but her current actions spoke volumes against that theory and Chuck didn’t know what to make of it. He hadn’t seen her in any of the dreams he had had recently and he couldn’t help but think that maybe that wasn’t a flaw in the prophet system.
Chuck held his silence not being able to find any words which would prove useful to him as he watched the woman drive away…she was a woman…had been a woman not an angel and he must have looked like a friggin nutcase…
Just the same Chuck sat firmly in his spot on the sidewalk as he waited for something…anything but it never came. He was not about to lie to himself it came with a token of peace of mind to know what the future held and he had begun to depend on it; as of late it was the unexpected that had terrified him. Allowing his eyes to sink into the letters and numbers upon the piece of paper Bianca had handed him Chuck found the strength buried somewhere inside of him and pulled himself up from the curb and headed away from the diner.
A thought crossed Chuck’s mind as he made his way towards the address the piece of paper had indicated and he quickly thought of something else not wanting anyone aside from himself to get wind of it. After what very well felt like forever the depleted motel came into view and he wasted no time in finding the room Bianca had indicated and knocking rather loudly on the door hoping she wouldn’t think he was a complete nut job for actually showing up. Though these days he wasn’t really certain he wasn’t a nut job.
“Please be the right place…” Chuck muttered to himself not sure he could deal with a random family in Disney gear opening the door and throwing him down that rabbit hole once again.
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Post by Bianca Pagliaro on Apr 30, 2009 21:02:26 GMT -4
Bianca's eyes batted open to a strange pounding sound. Rolling over, she pressed a hand over her eyes. For a moment, she looked around to see if there was a spirit somewhere in the room trying to get her attention. Needless to say, there wasn't one. That meant the sound was outside the door.
"Argh, what now." Bianca pushed the comforter off and climbed out of bed. Padding barefoot across the floor, she glanced through the peep hole near the top of the door.
On the other side stood whatever his name was. Bianca realized she'd never learned his name. For a moment, she wondered if she shouldn't pretend she wasn't here. But she had given her information willingly and now he stood here. He'd come looking for a reason.
"He needs help." She said, taking a deep breath. "But why the hell did you decide to make it your problem?"
Pulling open the door, Bianca left the chain in place. She looked through the crack out at the man on the other side.
"Hey. You made it."
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Post by Chuck Shurley on May 1, 2009 19:33:47 GMT -4
Chuck had held his station outside of the door silently counting to 100 and then he wouldn;t feel nearly as spineless about turning and leaving. He was willing to surmise that Bianca had indeed simply been a nice person and he had simply...or more so normally these days looked like a complete crack pot either way he had sought her out again if only attempt to apologize for his outlandish behavior.
Though truth be told this was more then like a crash and burn event in the making. He had reached 82 when the sound of the door before him opened slightly and he silently cursed his luck. His eyes slowly meet those of Bianca as she looked back at him through the small crack in the door the security chain he would reckon still firmly held into place.
"Yeah I um...I'm sorry for before...you weren't or well aren't what I thought you were and I didn't mean to offend you it's just that lately people are never exactly what I think they are and the appear out of friggin nowhere and..." Chuck ceased his rambling as he stared back at her his eyes quikcly making their way back down to his feet.
Chuck allowed the thought he had been attempting to keep at bay surface ever so slightly since this was pretty much his only chance at seeing if this would work.
"...If I gave you soemthing...with no explanation do you think...do you think you could figure out what to do with it? ...Theoretically speaking..."
Chuck was very aware of how much of a crack pot he must have sounded like but he had long since passed the point of caring.
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Post by Bianca Pagliaro on May 1, 2009 21:35:40 GMT -4
Bianca kept her eyes focused on the man. The guy looked so exhausted and miserable. She really wished she could do something for him.
"Demon?" Bianca raised her eyebrows. "Is that what you thought I was? But no, completely not the case. Totally human-unfortunately."
Bianca added the last word under her breath, more to herself than to the man. Sometimes she thought it would be easier to be a supernatural being rather than a human.
"Depends. On a couple of things." Bianca pushed the door shut long enough to remove the security chain and fully open the door.
"What's your name?" She asked, pulling the door open. "Why don't you come in and we'll chat?"
Again, Bianca's suspicion she was going to get herself ripped to pieces by a serial killer flashed through her head. But she reminded herself that everyone had to die someday. She wondered if her family would bother to claim the body.
"And dude, if you're planning on murdering me, could we keep it to strangling or something? Knives and other sharp things aren't really my ideal death."
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Post by Chuck Shurley on May 4, 2009 10:09:16 GMT -4
Chuck shook his head slightly as Bianca asked if he had thought she was a demon.
"Not a demon...an angel," he carefully corrected her. His eyes narrowed slightly for a moment as he looked back at her adn realized that she knew about demons...that wasn't something they taught on Seasme Street.
"How do you...never mind," Chuck cut himself off with a slight shake of his head which in turn caused a slight grimace to cross his face the action sparking his headache to protest.
"Chuck...Chuck Shurley."
Chuck's eyes fell on the motel room past her and he figured it wouldn't do any harm to go in but he couldn't hold on to his current thought for long or the angels would get wind of it and put a stop to it as well.
"I'm not a killer," Chuck explained as he walked into the room keeping his head down as he fished the pice of paper out of his pocket and held it in the palm of his hand fro a moment or two before turning back towards Bianca and thrusting the paper into her hand his eyes wide and his voice not daring to say a single word.
The crumpeled up piece of paper held the number of Dean Winchester and if Bianca couldn;t call him then it would be pretty certain that it was pointless to attempt to get in touch with the Winchesters.
"Please," Chuck whispered his eyes all but begging her to pick up the phone and dial.
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Post by Bianca Pagliaro on May 4, 2009 18:07:05 GMT -4
Bianca listened as Chuck spoke. She raised an eyebrow before spinning on her heel to turn and face him.
"Sorry to disappoint you, dude. There's no such thing as angels. Demons, yeah, those are real. But angels, God, no luck."
Bianca hadn't for a moment believed in heavenly beings for some time. It wasn't like they'd done anything for her.
"Nice to meet you, Chuck Shurley." Bianca looked at the hand he was holding out to her. "And good."
Well, that was good to know. She'd met enough crazy people in her life. And she didn't want to run into any more crazys with who were into snuff films. One Paolo in this life time was enough.
Bianca looked at the piece of paper in Chuck's hand. It seemed to have gone through the ringer a good deal. Bianca plunked it gently out of his hand and looked it over.
"A phone number?" She looked at him suspiciously. Was this guy just here to get her to call his ex girlfriend?
"All right, dude, I'll humor you." Bianca sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up the phone's receiver. It was a dirty shade of yellow and looked like her grandmother's old one. She pressed the buttons, dialing the number.
"Thank you for calling Verizon Wireless. To make a payment by phone, please press one..." Bianca looked up at Chuck, a confused expression on her face.
"You need to pay your phone bill?" She asked.
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Post by Chuck Shurley on May 5, 2009 1:27:16 GMT -4
Chuck was about to protest as Bianca began to explain that there was no such things as angels but he decided it was probably best he held his tongue; he already looked like enough of a nutcase as it was...he really didn't need any help.
Chuck stood silently just past the door as Bianca took the pice of paper from him and amde her way to the phone across the way. He was pretty sure he had forgotten how to breath as he stood waiting to see if it would work. It was his last ditch effort to help the Winchesters and his sanity all at once.
"You need to pay your phone bill?"
Chuck stared at her for a moment not having the faintest idea what she was talking about until it dawned on him...but it couldn't have failed he had tried to do everything jsut so. In a less then graceful panic Chuck mad ehis way to Bianca's side and pulled the phone from her grasp the automated voice on the other side the only thing to meet his ear.
"Para espanol marca dos..."
Letting the phone fall from his hand and on to the floor Chuck soon followed his knees pulled up against his chest and his head buried within them. He was clean out of ideas and ways to help; hell would break loose literally and the Winchesters wouldn;t have the slightest clue on how to stop things.
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Post by Bianca Pagliaro on May 5, 2009 10:37:14 GMT -4
Bianca waited to see what Chuck's reaction would be now that she had successfully gotten through to Verizon Wireless. She gave him no resistance as he took the phone from her hand. Clearly, he had not gotten the reaction he had wanted as the receiver fell out of his hand.
"What-?" Bianca looked curiously from him to the phone. As he sunk down to the floor, Bianca raised an eyebrow suspiciously. There was something wrong about this entire situation. Something was bothering this guy immensely.
"Dude, what's wrong?" She sat down on the floor beside him. Bianca picked up the receiver and put the phone back onto the nightstand.
"Seriously, what's wrong? Who are you trying to reach on the phone? I'm guessing it's not Verizon."
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Post by Chuck Shurley on May 5, 2009 11:00:33 GMT -4
“Everything…everything is wrong with everything. I’m just supposed to sit and write about the end of the world and everything and I mean EVERYTHING that is going to go wrong and I can’t even…never mind,” Chuck said cutting himself off with a large gulp of air his head still held in his hands.
He was pretty sure he was losing his mind; he was all but certain of it now/ Though he was pretty sure an insane prophet wasn’t on their to do list so they would probably just will him back to sanity and send him along on his damned path once again.
“No…no it’s not Verizon…and it’s not the suicide hotline and it isn’t a trust fund or random Spanish lady number 20 and you know I probably wouldn’t even be able to tell you who I am trying to reach because it would probably translate itself into German or something,” Chuck explained urgently as he forced himself to look back at Bianca.
“Nothing’s going to work…nothing that I try is going to work…”
Stopping mid sentence Chuck stared at Bianca for a moment.
“Do you have something sharp? Anything really? Gun? Weapon? A vast supply of medication? Anything?”
He knew it was the request of a mad man but you know if the shoe fit…
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