Chuck Shurley | God (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
paterelohim) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sirenspull_logs2012-02-10 04:18 am
paterelohim) wrote in sirenspull_logs2012-02-10 04:18 am
Entry tags:
i only want to say: if there is a way,
Who: Chuck Shurley, Sam Winchester
When: 2:30 Thursday morning
Where: the HoA Danger Room
Summary: Sam went dark side and got himself locked up. Now Chuck's going to see just how far gone he is.
Warnings: unpleasant subject matter, talk of blood, language, Winchesters.
After the horrible fiasco earlier, all Chuck wanted to do was crawl into a hole and drink until his liver fell out. But no matter how much he tried He couldn't escape the anger burning an acid hole in his stomach, urging him to act, tingling His fingers with the desire to crush Sam's head like a grape for having the gall to hurt one of His angels.
Still, Chuck's a prophet first, He has to remember that. A prophet of the Winchesters, and he has a responsibility. So when Chuck finds himself wandering sleeplessly to the basement somewhere past two in the morning, haunting the House in the wee Siren hours, it's not out of malice. It's anger, sure, it's restlessness and that horrible helplessness that comes from watching a loved one get hurt when you know you should've been able to protect them (His child, His baby-), but it's also curiosity. A sense of obligation to try to save Sam Winchester. It's everything and maybe it's stress, too.
He stumbles out of the elevator looking like the picture of that same stress, in the same bathrobe-wife beater-boxers ensemble Sam met him in. Chuck gazes across the massive room at Sam and wipes his mouth with the hand holding a half-empty wine bottle, and says nothing.
When: 2:30 Thursday morning
Where: the HoA Danger Room
Summary: Sam went dark side and got himself locked up. Now Chuck's going to see just how far gone he is.
Warnings: unpleasant subject matter, talk of blood, language, Winchesters.
After the horrible fiasco earlier, all Chuck wanted to do was crawl into a hole and drink until his liver fell out. But no matter how much he tried He couldn't escape the anger burning an acid hole in his stomach, urging him to act, tingling His fingers with the desire to crush Sam's head like a grape for having the gall to hurt one of His angels.
Still, Chuck's a prophet first, He has to remember that. A prophet of the Winchesters, and he has a responsibility. So when Chuck finds himself wandering sleeplessly to the basement somewhere past two in the morning, haunting the House in the wee Siren hours, it's not out of malice. It's anger, sure, it's restlessness and that horrible helplessness that comes from watching a loved one get hurt when you know you should've been able to protect them (His child, His baby-), but it's also curiosity. A sense of obligation to try to save Sam Winchester. It's everything and maybe it's stress, too.
He stumbles out of the elevator looking like the picture of that same stress, in the same bathrobe-wife beater-boxers ensemble Sam met him in. Chuck gazes across the massive room at Sam and wipes his mouth with the hand holding a half-empty wine bottle, and says nothing.
no subject
Sam laughed and stopped where he was about ten feet away. Chuck was just. So. Mad. A shadow crossed his face, but not by any external source, the darkness settling just on the surface of his eyes.
"Think of this as an extended ending. The Director's Cut.."
no subject
Sam has no right to talk like that. Not anymore. "I thought you were saying fuck destiny, what happened to that? Choosing family and freedom over destiny was the whole goddamn POINT. And by the way, you have no right to talk like that anymore. Try taking a look around some time- Lucifer's putting a hell of a lot more effort into changing himself than you are. You're officially less mature than the emotionally stunted Devil, Sam. I hope that feels good."