Love and Let Live

Chapter 1: Alive

Chase couldn't really remember what had happened. He had woken up, with the mother of all migraines throbbing in his head, feeling like he was re-living that time when he had drunk way too much and had to nurse the after-effects of it.

"Relax there." A very familiar voice had told him.

He opened his eyes. "Provost Higgins?" He asked, incredulously.

"Or what I choose to appear to you as." He corrected Chase.

Chase looked around. Everything was so… white.

"Am I in Heaven?" He asked the 'Provost'.

The man just threw back his head and laughed. "Chase, Chase, Chase." He mocked. "Do you really expect to go to Heaven after all you've done?"

Reluctantly, Chase shook his head. Of course; killing his parents, that student at the Dells Party and trying to kill Caleb would have to come with a price. But truly, Chase had that tiny, little flame of hope that he might someday end Up there.

"You should be thanking your stars that you are even alive." Provost Higgins, or whoever he was, continued.

"Who are you?" Chase demanded. "Where am I?"

"Where you are is not important. What's important is that - well, let's just call him God, shall we? – God had decided to give you a second chance."

"God?" Chase asked, already starting to laugh at the ridicule of all this. "Second chance?"

"Yes, well," The elderly man looked at Chase as if he were something lesser. "It would be hopeless for me to assume that you hold a certain regard for him?"

"Terribly." Chase nodded.

The 'Provost' just shook his head at him. "Even in death, you are a extreme ingrate." He muttered but Chase caught his words.

"Wait a minute… death?" Chase sputtered. "Dude, I thought you said I was lucky to be alive."

The other man merely rolled his eyes. "I meant, for the moment. And only if you accepted the terms and conditions."

He turned away from Chase and the younger man panicked. "What makes you think I won't?"

The 'Provost' turned back to him, a sly smile on his face. Chase narrowed his eyes at the quirk in the other man's mouth. "Would you?"

"I could Use my power." Chase threatened the man. "Force you to make me alive again." Usually, when he intimidated someone, he felt he was in power. Yet, right now, why did he feel that his threat was empty? Even worse, he felt sure the other man knew it.

"Could you?" Provost Higgins grinned and Chase was caught off-guard. After all, he had been used to seeing this being as his principal; a weak, faint-hearted old thing who would snap in half if he fell down. Now, the aura he was radiating was so different.

Chase brought up a hand, willing his power to channel an energy ball into his palm. Nothing happened. Even worse, when he tried to search for it in his soul, he found only emptiness. Panic coursed through him at an amazing speed. "What--- how… who are you?"

"And so you see Chase, if you don't agree to accept this, then you go back."

"Back where?"

"Hell." The 'Provost' said it as if it was the most natural thing.

"Oh." He didn't know what else to say. Suddenly, the fear, the anger and the confusion from before all just tumbled out of him. "What kind of a sick game is this anyway? I mean, what god would give someone a second chance? Someone who---"

"Has a future in front of him." The Provost interrupted.

"Go back home, Chase. It's not your time unless you say it is. And if you say it isn't, you just head back." The Provost suddenly said.

"Where--- back to Ipswich? Caleb would kill me if he saw me… again." Chase gulped.

"No. I think you've done enough damage in Massachusetts." The other man said slowly. A slight shiver ran down Chase's spine. There could be only one place the 'Provost' was talking about.

"Rhode Island?" Chase asked.

"Rhode Island." The other man confirmed. He placed a hand on Chase's shoulder and gently, but firmly, guided him forwards.

"But why?" Chase demanded. They had come to a stop.

The 'Provost', or angel, as Chase had earlier learned, pulled open a door. Chase didn't know how he knew where it was; everywhere was so damn white! He peered into the other side. He couldn't tell where it was.

"Because it's your destiny." And before Chase could say anything else, he had pushed Chase through the doorway. But, wait! You haven't told me… where am I going? Who is she? Noooooooo!

"Master Collins?" A distant, but rather familiar, voice called. "Master Collins, please do wake up! You're running late!"

Chase groaned as he opened his eyes. The family butler hovered in his face. "AAAAAH!" He yelled before he could stop himself. He rolled over… only to land on the floor with a slight thud. He struggled to stand up, tangled in all his bed sheets. "UGH! Oh-kay… body check." He started patting his torso, checking for anything missing – or additional – and to his immense relief, found none.

"Are… are you alright, Master Collins?" Lionel hesitated as he, unfortunately, witnessed the groping.

"Perfect." Chase flashed him a fake mega-watt smile, showing off his teeth. "Is breakfast ready?"

"Well…ah… yes, yes. It is. If you are." Lionel stumbled on a few words, still caught up in what had occurred moments ago.

"Wonderful." Chase still had on that grin and he knew he was arousing slight suspicion from the old butler. "I'll be down in just a sec."

The butler hesitated, then nodded and left the room, closing the doors behind him. Chase let out a huge breath of relief. Then he started patting his body again, even running to the mirror to make sure that he hadn't dropped into some freaky 'Hot Chick' movie. Just in case.

What had happened? When had the angel dropped him? What year was this anyway? From what he could see, his appearance hadn't changed at all. So that pegs it. He thought. I'm either seventeen or still eighteen. Have Mom and Dad even died yet? He felt no guilt in killing his parents; if you could call them parents. They adopted him for the publicity; silk tycoon Arthur Collins and his wife adopting a poor baby from the orphanage brought the spotlight on the industrialist. And Arthur Collins loved attention. So much he forgot to give any to his son.

Helen Collins cared nothing either for Chase: she was more concerned about her fashion line; the finest silk being sponsored by her husband who gained a share of her profits. The only time they seemed to shower any TLC onto him was in public. When they had to go to company functions, they went together and pretended that Chase meant the world to them and so created the illusion of a perfect family. Not to say that he didn't get anything he wanted. He was Chase Collins. And Chase Collins always got what he wanted.

Well guess what the perfect little son did in the end? Chase thought angrily. If it hadn't been for Lionel and Doris, the housekeeper, Chase wouldn't have been able to survive the other sixteen years of his life sane. Or at least, pretending to be sane.

"Master Collins?" Lionel's anxious voice filtered through the closed doors. "Are you alright in there?"

"Yeah, fine." He answered. "Just going to take a shower."

And I'll make it a cold one. He just hoped it would wake him up.

A/N: Okay, I thought I would try a Chase-fic and see how it would turn out. Comment on this one, please!