Becky the Fangirl in What Went Wrong!
Summary: Becky's seen the manuscripts for Chuck's two latest installments and isn't happy. As a matter of fact, she's in raging fan girl mode and out for blood.
Note: Alcohol + Re-watchings + freak out = an airing of the fan girl gone wild episode. Nope, don't own Supernatural, but if I did, a whole lot of things would be different. Lets start with DEAN YOU WOULDN'T HAVE PISSED ME OFF LIKE THAT! And from there, Becky would like to pick up. I don't want to edge into her time, she's scarier than me.
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"CHUCK!" Becky shrieked loudly, around the same decibel that a normal person would to warn of a fire, or an intruder, or maybe if they were laying on the floor bleeding half to death-as well as she might have, more to the point. "CHUCK! I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!"
Of course he knew, what the hell did she think? He was a prophet, not deaf. Not that he didn't wish he was, or that he was loving this prophet thing. As a matter of fact, it really friggin' sucked right now. He'd been rooting for Sam and Dean-completely and totally, Castiel too as a matter of fact, but that all went to hell.
For Christ's sake, the one angel they had in their corner was an alcoholic, Dean was doing something incredibly stupid…and if the internet hadn't went out, which he doubted highly since Becky installed some high speed DSL thing…Becky had found his manuscript…so right, he was dead.
Didn't anyone get that it was not his fault? He was the messenger, that was it. Besides, it wasn't like he enjoyed seeing his friends lives blow up in their faces. If he had any sort of say in this, he'd write them all into therapy. Castiel could use some alcohol counselling, and maybe something to really look at the crisis of faith he was having (all to which Chuck could only say was welcome to what it was like to be human. They all did, and they dealt with it…not drink a liquor store…well, he did, but that was different. He was a prophet.) Dean and Sam needed billions upon billions of dollars worth of…god, he didn't know where to begin. Therapy, a lot of costly therapy, maybe with some trust exercises thrown in…and well, medication certainly couldn't hurt.
He gulped nervously when he heard the pounding of Becky's feet on the staircase. Was it too late to hide? Fake a heart attack? Pretend to fall into a coma?
"Chuck you-"
"Becky," Chuck laughed nervously, turning around to look at her as she barrelled into his office. "What's the message board news? Dean and Castiel found their happily ever after?"
"Explain." Becky's voice was shrill as she handed him a thick sheaf of papers. "What is this? WHAT?"
"Paper." Chuck explained nervously. "A lot of paper, maybe a tree's worth. I should…I should be more environmentally friendly."
"Not funny Chuck." Becky clutched the papers like her life depending on it. "And neither is this. I don't know what the hell you were thinking. Are you drinking again?"
She narrowed her eyes at him, looking for some trace of hard liquor, but couldn't find one. That scared her more, he composed this crazy idea sober?
"This wouldn't ever happen. Firstly, Dean loves his brother. Sam is the most important thing to him in the whole wide world, he would die before he ever just tossed that medallion in a motel room garbage can. That necklace is the biggest symbol of their entire relationship, of the way that Dean is Sam's surrogate father, because John wasn't there for him." Becky paused. "It could never happen. It doesn't matter how angry he gets. He never has and never will do something so…"
Becky's voice trailed off, like she was on the edge of tears and trying not to cry. "Hurtful!" She managed, "He would never do anything so horribly hurtful!"
"Becky," Chuck cringed, feeling guilty as she went on. He thought about giving her a hug, but was afraid she'd turn on him again. He had no control over this mess, as she full well knew.
"And CASTIEL!" Becky shook her head, "No-no…he can't…how can he even be an alcoholic? I can't even comprehend that. How does and angel even get drunk?"
Well, Chuck thought, Castiel didn't have that much trouble picking it up, and he wasn't exactly the fastest on the uptake when it came to angels.
"Not to say that he wasn't very funny." Becky amended, "I can just picture those big, blue, sapphire eyes shining all innocently as he says 'I found the liquor store, and then I drank it'."
Becky gigged, "That was good. I liked that."
But she recovered her anger quickly. "BUT THAT WAS THE ONLY PART."
Her eyes glittered dangerously.
"I have a question."
Chuck gulped. "Yes?"
"Has Dean suffered some sort of brain damage that you glazed over?" Becky asked, "Has he sustained some sort of blow to the head that I don't know about?"
Chuck shook his head slowly. "None to serious…nothing more than…the usual."
"Then…" Becky's voice was sweet and calm before she freaked out, "WHAT IN THE HELL IS HE THINKING?"
"I don't…" Chuck shook his head. "I don't know."
"EXACTLY!" Becky hollered, "Dean is not thinking! He's clearly not thinking of the way he's ripping out his brother's heart and shredding it to pieces, is he?"
"No." Chuck agreed with her, wondering if anyone was stupid enough to disagree. Currently, he was valuing life way too much for that.
He knew that she loved him, but it was possibly she loved Sam and Dean more. Quite possible, but he could accept that.
"Dean can't leave, Dean can NOT tell Michael yes, what about this isn't he understanding? It could kill him, it could kill Sam. What if Michael kills Sam? What if Sam is so upset, so alone that he tels Lucifer yes-"
"Sam's not completely alone. He's got Castiel."
"And as happy as it makes me to see and opportunity to flesh out all the angles of Sam and Castiel and how visually nice they look together…"
Becky's voice trailed off. "Chuck! You're trying to distract me with pretty, shiny mentions of Cas/Sam and it won't work!"
Well, Chuck begged to differ, it had for a moment. He'd say one thing for the slashers, you just throw them a morsel and they'd create and elaborate dessert.
She shoved the manuscript into his chest hard enough that he winced. She hit hard…
"Make it better!" She ordered.
Oh god, it was like he was in some horrible twisted version of Misery. All Becky needed to do was break out the crowbar and break his feet.