Author's Note: This is my first ever submission here, so by all means tell me what I've done wrong and I'll do everything I can to fix it! This will end up being mildly long I'm guessing, so bear with me on this ok?
I own none of the show Supernatural, and none of the characters in it. Honestly though how cute would it be to have a little pocket-sized Gabriel? One can only dream.
Holy Chuck! Ch. 1
"Ch-Chuck! My name is Chuck Shurley! P-please! Stop!" stuttered the terrified man from his place on the floor. Moments earlier, the much taller, broader men had backed him into the wall, where he sank to the ground in defeat. One of the men had a very long, prominent scar running down his left cheek and never spoke. The second man had no scar and spoke often, but other than that the two men appeared to be identical. 'Twins', mused Chuck through his haze of fear.
Scarless smirked and lowered his blade. He nodded to his brother, who nodded back. Speechless continued to fix his crushing gaze on Chuck with one arm outstretched, his wickedly sharp blade barely brushing the skin on Chuck's neck, giving the bearded man goose bumps. Scarless had stepped out of the dim light filtering through the broken window, and out of sight. Chuck grew more uneasy as he listened to the muffled stirrings of Scarless and tried not to look Speechless in the eyes. 'If ever there was an uncomfortable silence, this would be it,' he thought ruefully.
"Well then, Chuck," Scarless sneered the name, "you don't look like the kind of guy who would want to try this the hard way, so let's make this easy, shall we? Cooperate, or Hamish over there will happily smash your head into another wall; have I made myself clear? Now, I don't think you'd make it through that again, but let's not find out." At this, Scarless sauntered back into the light, now holding a rope. "It would benefit all of us if we didn't have to kill you." Scarless knelt, bringing his face close to Chuck's, and smiled to show off a glistening set of razor-sharp teeth. Chuck shuddered at the proximity, and the foul stench of the vampire's breath.
"My name, by the way," Scarless nearly whispered, "is Judas. Not that you cared enough to ask." With that, Judas landed a sharp blow to Chuck's right temple. The defeated man crumpled, and his head swam before fading into quiet unconsciousness.
When Chuck came to about 14 hours later, he didn't open his eyes. He thoroughly doubted that he'd have any other time than now to assess the damage that had unquestionably been done to his body, and wanted to know exactly how hurt he was. He began mentally cataloging his injuries, beginning with his feet, by focusing all of his attention to one body part at a time. Surprisingly enough, he wasn't terribly broken at all. He had a few cuts, a scrape on his shoulder, and some bruises, his feet ached, and his left knee felt as if it had been smashed into something, but mostly he was fine. The aching feet weren't even caused by this kidnapping.
They had been hurting beforehand from Chuck's recent trip down the mountain to the nearby town. There was no other way to go than on foot. Now that he thought about it, the town would've been where the vamps had spotted him. He didn't think they knew who he was – why would they? – but he knew that their sense of smell was developed enough to tell when a man was living alone and just out of reach of civilization. They would have followed him home, eager to pounce on this promisingly easy meal.
Gradually another discomfort came into focus. One he hadn't noticed before for some reason. Chuck's head hurt. It hurt quite a bit actually, now that he thought about it. The headache rapidly grew from a mere discomfort into a skull-splitting warzone in his head. He thought at some point that he may have started shaking, but he didn't much care because his head. It hurt!
Just when he thought the ache could progress no more, for surely there must be a peak to this, a steady ring grated upon his ears. The noise echoed around his skull, intensifying everything tenfold. Chuck's eyes involuntarily slammed open, and he gasped, because for him this was the mistake of the century. The lights in the mostly empty warehouse storeroom shone as bright as suns in his eyes, and it felt as if they were each attempting to outshine the others. The lights grew brighter, merging into one blanket of whiteness and covering the face of an uncharacteristically concerned looking vampire. The light completely consumed Chuck's waking mind, and he sank back into unconsciousness.