Excerpt from "The Babe with the Power" by Carver Edlund.

Dawn squeezed Sam's hand, the two of them standing defiantly against the evil of the Goblin King. Siblings, both younger and different from that of their own blood, would not be held against their will...either at the mercy of the horrible Jareth or the archangel wearing his terrible face.

Deep in the depths of the Labyrinth, Dean and Buffy followed the sounds of a terrible beast. The scene was familiar to the hunter, sweeping over him like a wave of deja vu. The beautiful slayer followed him, cautious. As they rounded the archway of the towering hedges, their eyes fell upon a scene of brutality. The terrible beast they heard roaring challenge in the distance was being tortured by goblins. They jabbed at the beast with fanged monsters clinging to pikes and with each assault, the beast they attacked cried louder.

Dean grew strangely cold at the sight, yet squashed the bubbling nightmares of Hell down behind a moment of truimph. While his manulinity was further threatened by the admission...he turned to Buffy and said with certainty, "Oh yeah, I remember this part. Feel like kicking some ass?" He asked.

Buffy smiled, lifting her jagged stake. "Oh, definitely."

And the slayer descended upon the goblins like a Valkyrie taking to the battlefield. The hunter followed in her wake to save the beast.

-------

Chuck stared at his computer for a moment, his glasses all but falling off his nose. He blinked owlishly at his screen before licking his lips and taking another sip from his glass of whiskey.

"Yep. It's official." The prophet spoke aloud to no one in the dark room. "I've lost my fucking mind." He took of his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, grimacing as he recalled the scenes still floating through his head. The pants. Oh...the pants...

Chuck was certain he could have lived a long and fulfilling life without picturing Gabriel in tight...leather...and modestly stuffed pants.

The prophet shuddered and, after regaining his composure, picked up the phone to call downstairs.

"Hey...um Regina. I'm not sure if I just wrote some bad fanfiction or had a legit vision....but I think you and Bobby should get up here. I might have found the guys." Chuck informed.

I just made an ass of myself in front of Jo.

And Faith is scary in person. I do not want to be in the same room with her and Dean.

The guys are still missing, along with the Summers sisters. I think I'm going to go out and get a twenty four pack and a bottle of cheap whiskey. If I can't run around here shooting a gun and research very well....drunk on my ass and having visions is gonna have to do for now.

No visions as of yet. For some stupid reason since I got up this morning, I've been humming Dance Magic Dance.

I wonder if I packed my Bowie cassettes...

I got a room at the Foundation headquarters, no windows since I think it's for the vampires...but who am I to complain. Free room.

Oh and I got a wad of cash today. I guess I have been added to payroll.

I sit around, drink beer, have visions, write...and get paid to do it.

Paid very well.

This is what I get...for being a recluse. Chuck thought, looking at his watch. It was well after dark, past midnight. So far no one had come to his rescue. He had been so wound up from the attack that he found it damn near impossible to sleep...and he was cut off from booze. Which was an oversight on his part, since the day before Chuck did have a twenty four pack kicking in the pantry. He had only just put it in the fridge to keep everything cold.

He hadn't given himself the chance to have a vision yet. Which worried him, since the last he knew...Dean and Sam might be dead.

Didn't expect to get trapped in my own house by a demon...at least I locked myself in the pantry. He added, digging a hand into the box of Count-Chocula he had been eating out of since hungrer finally over ran fear. Though really, he was beginning to wonder if the bathroom had been a better selection.

"Don't think you can pass me some water, could you?" He asked out loud. "Kinda dry in here."

The prophet was met with silence, giving him pause enough to put down the cereal and crawl to the door. He leaned forward and peeked through the crack, hoping that there would be some indication that the possessed Mr. Johnson had left or was sitting looming on the other side. There was nothing. Not even a sound that could be heard over his own breathing.

Chuck reached out and touched the door handle. After several false starts he finally opened it. Just enough to peek out but not break the salt line.

He scanned the kitchen, finding it completely devoid of possessed old men.

"Uh...Hello?" He called.

More silence.

Chuck slipped back into the pantry, taking several deep breaths to calm himself down.

Okay, you need a plan. You can't go out there without a plan. First off, your archangel seems to be missing in action so don't count on him to cover your ass. Second...that demon might still be here. There might be more. You can't stay here. You need to get to a working phone... Chuck took a deep breath and released it slowly. I have salt. Salt is good. But not enough to ward the house. I know....like two devils traps...but I'm so scared of out my effing mind to remember them. Crosses? Might be one upstairs. Holy Water? No. And I don't have a rosary, so making it myself with the Latin from the books--

Chuck started. "Oh. Oh my god!" He whispered. "I've got exorcisms spells in the books!" He said, elated. He rushed around the pantry, grabbing the last of the salt on hand and scarfing down one more handful of cereal before coming back to the door. The prophet stood there, picking his brain for the right book, the one that would have the most complete prayer on hand.

Meg. The book were they took out Meg the first time! Chuck bit his lip, looked at the door knob and then decided he was not going to stay there much longer. He swung open the door completely and after a moment of consideration crossed the salt line.

Chuck hurried into a corner of the kitchen, leaned around the open doors to the living room. He scanned the darken room several times, clutching the canister of salt to his chest and rushed into the room, going to the bookshelf. The prophet began picking through the volumes of Supernatural, huffing in frustration for not keeping things more organized.

"Where is it!" He hissed, throwing aside Born under a Bad Sign. While the book had some of the prayer he needed in it, it was all put useless. Chuck thought for a moment that if he could even get his hands on a copy of Phantom Traveler he'd be doing alright.

Something clattered upstairs.

Chuck froze. In his hands was Devil's Trap and he was already starting to open it for the proper page.

"Should have stayed in the pantry prophet." The demon wearing Mr. Johnson jeered from his spot on the stairs. "The Light Bringer would have been along shortly to take you." 

Chuck swallowed in panic.

(ooc: Angel or Spike, who wants to start?)

Chuck leaned back from his computer, staring at his blog for a moment before turning over a page of notes and writing "NORMAN GRIST" on the blank page. Dean's mind was jumble of thoughts as he updated his online journal, read Sam's, went over emails, and then began to sit in a bathtub with a couple beers and read the freaking bible (Dean, the savior of mankind...hiding from his brother in a bathtub. That'll sell books). Norman didn't exist. He had an almost alien quality about him....very much like Cas or even Uriel and Zachariah.

The prophet scratched as his beard. "Who the hell are you?" He said to the words on the paper.

He sighed and flipped over the paper and started writing more details that came to mind about Dean's readings and what Sam was dreaming about in the other room. The boy was starting to have happy dreams about meeting a tawny haired girl in the stacks of the Foundation's Library and Chuck was sure it would make for a much better read than Dean's leafing through a passage on Lucifer the Morning Star rising out of hell.

The pencil stilled in his hand.

Chuck brow knitted together as he looked at the words "Morning Star".

He flipped the paper over again and wrote the words over that of Norman's name and began to write it out again, scratching off letters as he went.

Chuck's breath hitched in his throat.

"Oh...oh my god" Chuck whispered in horror. Norman Grist was...he was...

He swallowed nervously and peered around the room and at the phone for a long hard moment. He hadn't dared to contact Dean or Sam for fear that it would give away their location to the Host. Now it looked as if he had no choice since he was for once one step ahead of both boys on something they hadn't quite figured out yet.

Chuck steeled his will. "To hell with this!" He hissed, lunging across his desk for the phone. At that very moment the house went unusually still and quiet...the hum of energy that was a staple of daily life was silenced and the computer in front of him blinked out.The phone in his hand that was coming to his ear was silent, with no dial tone.

He pulled it away and blinked at it. Then snatched his cell phone out from under the stack of papers and comic books. The screen flashed at him, reading 'No signal'.

Chuck lifted his gaze to the room, listening to the silence that came with a power outage.

He was cut off.

The sound of his front door giving way sent the prophet fleeing into his kitchen. Something told him that he wasn't safe, even with an archangel in tow. Chuck pocketed his cell phone into his bathrobe and flung himself at the pantry door beside the fridge. He leaped inside and snatched the canister of Morton Salt from the shelf, turning back to the door just in time to see his elder neighbor standing there just behind him with completely black eyes.

He grinned a toothy grin. "Where is your archangel, prophet?"

Chuck slammed the pantry door shut and spilled salt into a heavy line before it just as a body flung itself into the wooden barrier. He flinched back from the door and came against the opposite wall, sliding down it to the floor with the remainder of salt in his shaking hands. There were a few more bangs that were brutal enough to have broke the frail body the demon in his kitchen possessed and then silence.

"He knows, prophet. He knows you know." A distorted voice that was both Mr. Johnson and then not said through the door. "It is not time to tattle."

Chuck swallowed nervously and fished out his phone again. There was still no signal. 

He was trapped in his pantry, with no means of communication, with a demon at his door, and the knowledge that Norman Grist's name spelled "Morning Star" when the letters were rearranged.

Dean and Sam had a beer with Lucifer last night...and they didn't even know it.

While I understand he can't fucking sleep, does Dean really have to bore me with death in my own dreams by reading the god damn Bible? That material is so dry and written by a bunch of old geezers who had no style for writing. All doom and gloom. Can't he or Sam do something fun like...I don't know....go pick up a pretty girl and get some action? 

I know it's kinda twisted since I am aware now that the two of them live and breath...but really...it was free porn...and the girls were hot and never faked it.

Wish to hell Dean would just drink himself stupid so we can both be put out of our misery tonight.

Anyway. I need more details on this Dawn chick Sam is chatting up. What is her angle? Her motivation? With Sam's track record with women...could she be the first human girl he's flirted with since...I don't know....that doctor from the siren case? 

And the Norman dude. Wow. As if I didn't see that coming. Sam was getting vibes off the guy and Dean started comparing him to Cas. I picked up my script from Lazarus Rising and starting reading over the notes I had on Cas...and then the stuff I wrote down about Norman. Yeah. Besides expressing some emotion and eating food, the guy had a moment that was totally Cas like.

Norman Grist. Norman. Grist.

Doesn't exist. Well, at least not this one. I remember what Dean googled and most of it was other guys who by chance had the same name but no connection to anything they had on the one they met.

...God that Bible shit is so dry.

I'm a little overwhelmed. Dean has taken to computers like a fish out of water (for once using it for something besides PORN ) and has mastered the fine art of both email and research. He keeps TALKING to people. All these new people from the Foundation. From what I understand they are a bunch of Watchers and vampire slayers who employ both 'souled vampires' (okay, seriously? I don't think the fans are gonna take that) and demons.

On top of that, Dean's making connections to all these people. He's got a witch air mailing him oils and herbs for a god damn summoning spell for angels, a demon (like legit...doesn't even look human) named Lorne (who by the way sent the poor guy into a panic attack. Dean's not slept for longer than 4 hours in the last 48 since Anna dropped in on him)...that Faith girl, who apparently is just rubbing Dean the wrong way...and Xander...whom I can justifiably say is more Sam's friend than Dean's since the two haven't had long to talk to each other much.

In three days, he's hooked Sam up with demon blood and quite possibly found the Colt...some demon has it and isn't give it up until he meets Dean in person in LA. (Sam didn't take to the new demon blood so well. It had one hell of a fucking kick. Poor guy started tripping. Good thing they diluted it down.) Now if only Dean and Sam can work out their trust issues (Dean's admitted he is trusting Sam to self medicate himself, but it's driving him nuts he can't count on Sam to watch his back right now)

It looks like they got a solid lead on Cas. A guy name Norman Grist is helping them out...but I don't know....this guy knows too much. He is like...feeding the boys all the right answers. He's all but come right out and said that Cas is hiding under his god damn couch. I don't like this guy. He is just giving me a bad vibe.

All I know is that he is powerful....and I'm pretty sure "Norman Grist" isn't his real name.

Oh and Zach ran off to scare that Regina chick out of her mind. She called Dean and started screaming about it.

We are so screwed when Zach finally decides he is going to get Dean.


(ooc: It's going to seriously take forever if I go back and LINK every single event with this) 

Chuck dug around his mail, scanning over a new proposal and contact from his publisher. He sat back in his desk chair and rubbed at the layer of scruff that coated his jaw. He wondered for a moment if he should shave it off...but decided the effort to do so would just not be worth it. Besides, he looked kinda scary all clean shaven, even to himself.

It was fast appoarching mid afternoon on day 2 of Dean, Sam, and Xander's case. The boys were well out of Kansas and just about sitting on the Canadian border way to the north in Michigan searching for Castiel. Chuck turned over the contact in his hand and set it back on the table with a sigh. He couldn't fathom what to do with it. The books were being renewed, talks were beginning on a new budget and adjusting his royalities for the new books.

Could he keep making a living writing about the real lives of two brothers who were getting the short end of a nonexsistant stick?

Chuck leafed through the more recent script, gleaning over the details he had both typed and then written into the margin of the pages. He was considering a new draft when the room suddenly felt full. The presence of another body made the hair the back of his neck rise up and goose bumps began to form. Chuck lowered the script, making the motion fluid as he crumpled it up and threw it into the trash can.

"Very clever keeping the details to yourself." Zachariah commented. Chuck turned and found the angel sitting on his tattered couch with a stack of papers in his hands. "So, Dean and Sam have joined an organization in Los Angeles." He looked up with an expression of fake surprise. "The Phoenix Foundation."

Chuck wondered why at the moment he felt a little indifferent to the fact the angel was leafing through his trash and reading manuscripts. Maybe it was the fact the being in front of him was not wholly human (even though he was wearing a human) and could do anything he wanted without the effort of a single thought.

The prophet rose up from his desk and walked right past the angel. If he was going to be stalked by this creepy bastard, he was going to need a drink. He fished about his kitchen for a plastic cup (glass was only going to break and come apart the next time an angel comes calling bent on a war path) and poured a helping of J&B.

"They employ hunters, slayers...oh wow, I haven't seen a Slayer in nearly..." Zach looked up and frowned. "2000 years. Usually it was just the one. I guess they managed to toss out the rule book and activate all of the potential ones." He flipped through the pages. "Souled Vampires...oh...hah, what a joke." He stopped for a moment. "And demons. My, my. And those boys walked back out and left everyone alive? I'm surprised."

Chuck stood in the doorway to his kitchen and stared at the back of Zach's balding head, cup in hand. "You let Lucifer out. Dean's burned his bridges with you. He knows you'll kill Sam at the first chance you get. Cas too. So what? You think Dean was going to behead and exorise a bunch of potential allies because he's a block head?" The prophet took a gulp of whiskey. "Well...he is a block head...but he knows better."

"Well then. Maybe I'll take care of the matter myself." Zach sighed, faking the air of frustration as he rose to his feet and tossed the script on the coffee table. "Then again...someone told them I was in town...which made the two of them run...but not before they fortified their head quarters." 

He pinned his cold gaze on the scruffy man. "I wonder how that happened."

Chuck shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe you don't give Dean enough credit. I haven't talk to him since Cas was here last."

Zach's lips twitched into a mocking smile. "Ah Cas. You know...I may underestimate Dean in some respects...but I'm pretty sure he'd be the first in line to find that coward...where ever he may be." 

"Which I don't know." Chuck replied, walking pass Zach and returning to his desk. "So you're wasting your time rifling through my trash and my scripts to find out. I only follow Dean and Sam. I can't even tell you where Bobby is."

Zach came to stand next to the desk, eying Chuck before reaching down into the trash can and producing the crumpled bits of paper. "Yes." He admitted. "That is your limitation." He righted the papers and started flipping through them. "You're not wetting yourself in fear, Chuck. What changed?"

Chuck scoffed as he sipped at his drink. "You're an asshole." He muttered. "You won't kill me. You can scare the hell out of me. But what's the point? You've nothing to back up any certain threats...and I've seen too much crap in Dean and Sam's lives to jaded with everything else you could throw at me." He looked up at the angel. "So why don't you just fuck off and let me write." 

Zachariah blinked at him before a smile, a real and rather creepy smile, graced his face. Chuck wondered for a moment if he had underestimated him.

"Thanks for this." He said, holding the papers in his hands. "Oh, and however you are contacting Dean...you wish him luck from me alright? I have to stop in and see someone about a horse." 

And on the whisper of wings, Chuck found himself sitting his living room alone.

Chuck brought his cup to his lips and drank everything in it before going back to work.

(ooc: Regina, you going to step out of your office soon? ;) )

Dean's a dumbass if I ever saw one.

God, how STUPID does one have to be to piss of Zachariah like that? He probably razed that diner to the ground when he flew in and realized Dean and Sam were long gone.

At least Anna found them.

Got a look into Dean's head again. Damn, if the fangirls won't eat that up.

And Sam's talking to that Xander guy.

And they are going to Lawrence.

I'm going to sit on my couch and wait till the roof caves in. Because when Zach gets done fuming, he's going to show up here and make my life a living hell again until I tell him where Dean is again.

Next time, I'm pretty sure I'm not allowed to be vague.

So don't stay too long in Lawrence, guys.

Chuck and Anna's Meeting at the Tomlin Street Church in Kripike's Hollow


REGINA! You need to get Sam and Dean out of L.A. as soon as you can! I don't know how long their luck and their hex bags will keep up with them...but Zarchariah knows what city they are in and he's coming for them! 

My meeting at the church was not Castiel. It was Anna. She must have busted out and fell back to earth. She is coming to help, I'm pretty sure she is on her way to L.A. too beat Zachariah to the guys...since she knows who they are working for now. I didn't tell Zach that...so she had a bit of head start.



(Ooc: BTW...this is like...maybe late afternoon on the same day as the second meeting. so it will be after Jo and Dean's lunch...and maybe when Dean shows up at the Foundation to pick up Xander and Sam to head out to a bar)