The Angel, the Demon, the Hunter, the Prophet and the Prostitute

The silence was deafening. Chuck's head swiveled from side to side but Castiel was nowhere to be seen. Looking around the writer saw the damage the archangel had wrought upon his humble abode and thought that a flaming sword would have saved him a heap of trouble and days, maybe weeks, of picking up and sorting through and patching-up and fumigating. "I should be thankful for small favors," he muttered and shoved aside some of the debris covering his couch.

Taking a deep but shaky breath, he collapsed onto it and surveying his surroundings, he leaned forward and covered his face with his hands. What had just happened, surely not what had been written? Dean was not supposed to leave the green room and he certainly wasn't supposed to be sprung by Castiel. Chuck knew what had happened to Castiel stratosphere-side and if one thought that only demons tortured then one didn't know jack shit.

Dean was also not supposed to find Sam but what else could have caused the sudden disappearance of Castiel and the ominous silence of the archangel? Had they stopped it? Was he going to live after all or was this the calm before the shit storm?

Scrubbing his hand over his face Chuck looked up and wondered if his laptop was still working. When he had written about Sam and Ruby and the RN he had felt all kinds of emotions...mainly disgust topped off with a heaping helping of fear. That was when he had checked his credit card limits and decided to order up a twenty pack of prostitutes. He had been afraid he would die a virgin.

Oh, he'd lived vicariously through the sexual escapades of Dean Winchester and considered himself a stud by proxy. Likewise he had steered clear of any involvement, vicarious or otherwise, in Sam Winchester's hook-ups. The younger Winchester was a man of various and distinctively trippy tastes, none of which appealed to the writer. But the archangel had stopped his hissy fit and all Chuck wanted to do now was delete that part of the story. There was no sense in admitting his lack of sexual experience if he wasn't, in fact, going to die any time soon.

Chuck stood up and on trembling legs made his way to his desk and began to clear away the pieces of drywall that had fallen from above when the angel had made his pissed off presence known. The laptop was still in one piece, the curser blinking on the screen and Chuck leaned in to re-read the last lines he had written before Castiel and Dean had gone rouge and showed up at his place.

He read: 'Chuck leaned in to re-read the last line he had written before Castiel and Dean had gone rouge and showed up at his place...and the door bell rang.' "I didn't write that," Chuck whispered just as the doorbell rang and he yelped in surprise. Checking the computer one last time the curser continued to blink but no more words appeared on the screen.

The doorbell rang again and Chuck slogged his way through the clutter and peeking out he saw a dark haired woman, thick bangs framing her exotic face, her eyes turned upward, her mouth set petulantly as if she were bored. "I do not want another copy of the Watchtower," he fumed, "Don't these people know that it's too late?" The doorbell rang again and when he refused to answer it the bell rang repeatedly until he threw open the door and shouted, "What do you want from me?"

"You called me sugar and for a thousand bucks, it's whatever you want from me...within reason of course."

Of course, it was a hooker and as Chuck stood dumbfounded, which he did often lately, the woman pushed her way past him into the living room. "You did call for a 'companion' didn't you?" she asked picking her way through the rubble, a look of disgust on her face, "Maybe you should have called Merry Maids instead."

"I...ah, I ...Earthquake...and yeah, I did call but that was before, when I thought..." Chuck struggled to explain while the hooker, dressed in a minuscule pink skirt with matching t-shirt with the word 'angel' emblazoned in rhinestones across her voluptuous breasts, simply smiled seductively at him.

Staring down at the fabric stretched so tightly across her front Chuck thought that if one of the jewels were to let loose he was sure he'd lose an eye and, growing more uncomfortable by the minute, he wondered if Castiel was coming back any time soon.

As he continued to stare at her endowments Chuck swallowed thickly and thought what the hell. His credit card limit was twenty hookers so price wasn't a factor...but the end of the world was and he began to try and explain his reluctance...again.

"Listen, I appreciate you coming all the way out here but could I suggest something?"

The hooker sighed and told him, "That'll be extra."

Chuck's cheeks reddened and he tried to back peddle verbally and physically when she came up to him and kissed him hard, moving him backward toward the couch until he had no choice but to sit down on it. She sat down beside him and leaned in getting as close to him as she could without actually sitting on his lap.

"No, no, no. I wasn't going to suggest...well, maybe I would have...but that was before...before..." Chuck stopped babbling and took a deep breath and forged on, "I think you should give up "the business" and maybe go to...church."

"Church!" the hooker laughed and pointed a finger at him and said accusingly, "Get thee to a nunnery!"

Chuck's face blanched and he said, "Listen, I didn't mean anything by it. I know its the world's oldest profession but now may be the perfect time to quit...and repent."

The hooker scoffed at the notion and laughed but her incredulous amusement was cut short.

"She's not a prostitute, Chuck."

It was Castiel come to them without warning and, though his revelation didn't bode well for Chuck, the angel's return was a welcome relief to the prophet. At least he wouldn't have to face the wrath of an unused and unpaid prostitute alone.

"Sure I am," the girl said lifting her hands and running them enticingly through her hair and shaking out her long mane, "Just look at this rack," she suggested and all eyes wondered to the tiny pink t-shirt just as she took in a deep breath and thrust out her attributes. "And the things I could do to you," she said to Chuck but her eyes were staring at Castiel and had become like green ice.

"Stop it, Gabriel," Castiel's voice was forceful but his heart really wasn't in it. He was leery and frankly, at that point, he was a little more than frightened.

Chuck quickly pulled away from the clutches of the dark haired beauty and eyed her suspiciously. "What do you mean...'Gabriel'?" he asked as panic started to build in him. Was there no end to God's cruelty? He was not only most likely going to die a virgin but also a laughing stock if the woman he was just about to let have her way with him turned out to be a dude.

The hooker leaned back and snapping her gum sullenly and checked her lacquered fingernails for chips.

"Tell me she's not a...a...guy," Chuck implored casting his eyes quickly to the girl, who just winked at him, then back up to Castiel pleadingly.

Castiel hesitated wondering what Gabriel was up to. He knew the veil had been torn, destroyed more like it. He had heard it, felt it but he had no idea what was to happen next. He was a deserter and a traitor and he had no one to confide in or to relay orders to him. Likewise, he had no one to lie to him. He thought about lying to the young prophet but things were too far gone and he simply said, "Chuck, this is Gabriel. She's your Archangel."

Chuck looked dumbfounded and after processing this new information ventured, "You mean like Gabriel come blow your horn, Gabriel?"

Ignoring him Castiel asked Gabriel, "Why have you come?"

Rolling her eyes the Archangel told him, "Did you think your little escapade would go unnoticed? I've come to set things to right."

"As a prostitute?" he snapped.

"Why Castiel, surely you haven't forgotten poor Mary Magdalene. She was a first class whore until I cast out her seven demons." Gabriel then lifted her arms and allowed the angel to see the bloodied wrists that had marred the vessel before she had healed it.

"And a suicide?" he continued, the visage before him even more unsettling.

"Don't be so sanctimonious. I took possession of her before she bled out and forgave her her trespasses."

Chuck, unable to comprehend the magnitude of the names being bandied about, stuck his arm down between the couch cushions hoping to find a long lost bottle of whiskey but had no luck. He felt a light touch on his shoulder and physically jumped to the far side of the couch away from the Angel in hooker's pink sparkly clothing. But Gabriel now held a bottle of thirty-year-old Highland Park single malt Scotch whiskey in her hand, seal unbroken, and Chuck fairly lunged for it settling back onto the couch next to her.

Chuck Shurley couldn't afford Highland Park anything and knew it was a divine gift. He twisted off the cap and took a long pull from the bottle and rested the bottom on his leg and let the whiskey work its wonders. Calming him and bolstering his courage he asked, "And this hooker...er, escort...she's cool with all this?"

"Oh, absolutely," Gabriel said looking down at her vessel and smiling. She was well satisfied but a disparaging noise escaped Castiel and Gabriel quirked an elegantly arched eyebrow his way. "At least I didn't threaten to take someone she loved instead," she said evenly and Castiel's mouth snapped shut.

Chuck winced and waited for the wrath of it all. When none came he grew bolder and lovingly caressed the expensive bottle of scotch and asked, "So if you're my guardian angel can you grant me any wish?"

Castiel took in an audible breath and held it while Gabriel's features remained pleasant... except for her eyes. There was something about them; a kind of a sparkle and right away Chuck knew he'd screwed up.

"Chuck, I'm an Archangel, not a genie."

"But you can't be Gabriel. Gabriel's a..."

"A male? Look closely at the paintings," she told him, "I do not have 140 pairs of wings either. I am not a man as some unenlightened cultures would have you believe."

Tired of the intrigue and the duplicity and the inane conversation between the prophet and his keeper Castiel sighed. He wanted to cut to the chase, to know exactly why Gabriel had chosen to show herself when, for the most part, the Archangels had kept their own council, the exception being Uriel. "I know Lucifer has risen in part due to my actions and if you've come to take me back I won't give you any trouble," he volunteered but Gabriel shook her head.

"You've been a true and faithful servant to our Father and in your unswerving and unquestioning loyalty you have been badly used," she said getting up from the couch and crossing to where Castiel stood looking worse for wear in his rumpled raincoat. Gabriel touched his shoulder gently and smiled sadly, "It's true that our brother has escaped his cage and now walks the earth and the war has truly begun."

"Then all is lost," the angel lamented and Chuck upended his bottle.

"I don't think it's a war our Father wanted but one that couldn't be avoided. That's why He had you pull Dean Winchester from the pit. Not to stop the apocalypse but to destroy Satan. The demons know it and the angels know it and they're all gunning for him."

"Then all is lost."

Gabriel's heart grew heavy as Castiel's faith in his Father and in his charge crumbled and she sought to comfort him. "Dean Winchester has a destiny to fulfill and he can't do it alone."

"Nor can I."

"I know," the Archangel replied sympathetically, "So I figured you could use a little divine intervention...and the words of a prophet."