Between the desire, And the spasm
Between the potency, And the existence
Between the essence, And the descent
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom
For Thine is, Life is, For Thine is the
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
—T.S. Eliot, "The Hollow Men" (1925)
The road was never-ending. As far as the eye could see, there was an expanse of dusty red dirt and next to nothing else. Noah 'Puck' Puckerman pulled his sunglasses off of his eyes and tossed them onto the cushion of the passenger's seat, staring ahead at the empty road. The old radio that he had installed in his baby - the 1967 Chevrolet Impala that he had labelled his prized possession - buzzed with the familiar and comforting sound of classic rock – the music of badasses. Almost involuntarily, he found that his gaze traveled to rest on the rear view mirror, checking the back seat for any unwanted passengers. Luckily, he saw none. This didn't mean that he was completely alone, though.
Ever since Puck was a boy he'd known that creatures existed in the world – things that nightmares were made of. He was one of many people who knew about these creatures. His father had raised him and his brother Aaron as hunters – people who hunted the unnatural, the paranormal. He'd seen shit that most people couldn't even dream of. It didn't make for a spectacular childhood, facing ghosts and vampires every second weekend - especially when your father left you, never to be seen again, after opening your eyes to the harshness of the life that was already planned out for your miserable ass.
Puck had known since he was eight years old that he would never be able to do anything else with his life. His brother, Aaron, however, had always fought against these idealism's that their father had forced unto them. He was at college now, as far away from Puck and monsters that he could possibly be. If he wasn't so much like their father, Puck might've admitted that he missed him. But Puck didn't believe in Aaron's outlook on life. He had worked with him for several years, just the two of them, together on the road, fighting whatever opposed them and mankind as a whole. Those had been the greatest years of Puck's sorry life, which he hated to admit. But then Aaron had disappeared and left his brother to his own strange vendetta against the paranormal, to follow his dreams of becoming a doctor. Puck guessed that that was helping people, too, but still.
He just didn't understand how his brother could voluntarily leave a life like this - how he could go on knowing that there were innocent people being murdered and tormented by these creatures and that he was not doing anything to stop it.
Still, these things didn't matter anymore. Puck stood alone, he drove alone, he ate alone, he slept alone and he fought alone. That was the way it had been for the past two years.
The summer sun was harsh on his skin. Its strong rays burnt through the window shield and warmed his face. Ahead, the road was dwindling to a dead end. At the end of the dusty path was a small building that Puck frequently visited. Harvelle's Roadhouse was a bar open to hunters from all over - a place where they could socialize and even sort out issues between themselves. But today, Puck thought, as he pulled the Impala over by the seemingly busy tavern, hunters gathered for neither of those reasons. Today, things were strictly business.
The makeshift car lot built by the Roadhouse was filled with pickup trucks and several presumably stolen vehicles. Puck slammed the driver's door of the Impala, shoved his '45 Pistol into the pocket inside his leather jacket, and began to walk towards the saloon. Above the door hung a 'closed' sign, but Puck knew that this was just a facade to ward off any customers who weren't welcome during the meeting. He pushed the door open and made his way inside.
There were at least thirty hunters spread around the bar and pool table – including Ellen Harvelle, the proprietor of the place. She saw Puck first and raised her hand in welcome. He flashed her his trademark smirk and settled at the bar, where he was immediately surrounded by fellow hunters of the supernatural. He recognised most of them from when they had crossed paths on the hunt, working together to defeat a common enemy.
"Puckerone," greeted Sam Evans, a regular at the inn. They had defeated a poltergeist together not three months ago. Puck had a soft spot for the guy – still, he was no Aaron, and Sam had his own hunting partner now, he had heard.
It wasn't uncommon for hunters to travel in pairs. The road got lonely and it was comforting to know that you had someone to have your back in a confrontation. However, it could be said that working alone did have an upside. If your partner died on the job, it left you questioning your own morality. That wasn't good. You had to keep your wits about you at every moment.
"How you been?" Sam was asking him. Puck looked up at the blonde man before him, who was dressed in ratty old sweater paired with jeans and a cap that he had pulled over his unruly golden locks.
He shrugged. "Been better," Puck told him, smirking. His fingers curled around the beer Ellen had placed in front of him on the counter. He took a long swig before focusing his gaze on the man before him once more. "You?"
Sam sighed, staring at the beer in his friend's hand. Too bad he'd promised himself that he'd stop drinking. "Average. Just finished a case down in Ohio."
"Oh, yeah?" Puck questioned. In all honesty, he knew that Sam was trying to provoke him into telling him about his feelings. A lot of folk expecting him to talk about Aaron leaving for college – to admit that he was, you know, bummed about it or something. But he didn't want to talk about it. He really didn't. At all.
"Yeah," Sam replied, his face falling slightly when he realised that Puck wasn't going to open up to him. "Horde of vampires. Nasty stuff."
They continued their conversation for a while, the occasional man or woman coming up to join them and question them about their latest adventures. Yet, they didn't stay long. Hunters weren't conversational people. They preferred to get down to the point and leave it at that.
At least, that was what Puck believed.
"I haven't seen them around here before."
Placing his empty beer glass on the counter before him, Puck turned to face the direction in which Sam was staring. He followed the other man's green-eyed gaze to the two women sitting in the far corner of the bar. They were complete opposites, one as blonde and icy as winter, and the other as warm and bright as summer. The blonde one was the taller of the two, her haircut a ruffled bob and her clothes simple jeans and a black tank top. The smaller one, the brunette, had large, searching brown eyes and a wide smile. She wore a short skirt paired with a woolen sweater. And although it was kind of hot, albeit in a creepy two-year-old kind of way, the part of his mind that was completely focused on the job noted that it was impractical.
"Me neither," Puck said shortly, momentarily mesmerized by the tiny brunette, who sipped tentatively at her beer whilst her blonde friend was chatted up by a hunter he knew from around three years ago.
"You wanna go see where they're from?"
Puck knew that Sam was just using that as an excuse to talk to the pretty blonde. Hunters didn't come from anywhere. They didn't really have a home. Well, that was a lie. Puck had the Impala and his mother, Sarah, and his teenage sister, Bec, who lived back in Lima, Ohio. In the Puckerman family, hunting was a male profession. Bec hated that idealism – but Puck adored it. Who wanted to see your little sister possessed and other horrible things that he had had to deal with throughout his existence thus far?
"Guess so."
Sam went first. Puck followed him, about a metre or so behind, stopping to talk to a few friends as he went. He was a popular guy. Maybe that was why little Jo Harvelle had a big old crush on him. He smiled at the sixteen year old who was playing pool with a couple of the older guys. None of them would try anything. Jo was like a little sister for everyone – family for hire.
By the time he reached Sam and the two women, his friend was deep in conversation with the blonde. The brunette was still sipping at her alcohol, her nose wrinkling a little each time she swallowed, as if she didn't like the taste. When she noticed him standing over her, her eyes widened temporarily. After a second, though, he saw them return to normal. She placed her beer down on the tiny table and sent him a smile. Damn, she smiled big. He wondered how she could be so happy – God knows why they had been called there that day. Ellen had been very secretive about it. By the looks of things, and judging by how many hunters had turned up, it wasn't a good type of meeting. This was the type of meeting where they discussed some big bad ghoul that couldn't be cleaned up by a small group of hunters. No. This wasn't meant to be a social event. Ellen was just warming everybody up so that they would be compliant when she needed them to be.
"Hello," the brunette greeted him. Her tiny hand flew upwards, ready for a handshake. He stared at it from a few seconds before grasping her much smaller hand in his, his expression polite but indifferent.
"Hi."
"I'm Rachel Berry."
"'s Puck," he mumbled. Their hands had remained entwined for far too long. Feeling stupid, he quickly untangled them and searched for any other means of conversation. Noticing the firearm on the table, he smirked. "How long you been in the business?"
"My whole life," she told him honestly. He noticed the strange sense of hope alight in her eyes. That was strange in itself. Most of the people he knew didn't have much of that. "It's a family tradition."
He made a noise in the back of his throat. "No kidding."
"Was it the same for you?"
"Guess so."
Her eyes narrowed as she bit her lip thoughtfully. "You're not much of a talker," she observed rightfully.
"Most of us aren't."
"I'd have to disagree with that," she laughed, gesturing for him to sit at the empty chair next to her. Sam and her blonde friend were deep in conversation, having hardly noticed anything else going on around them. "Get a little beer into you lot and before you know it, you're all yelling and screaming whilst hustling pool."
The back of his neck went slightly red. "Maybe you're right."
"I'm always right," she assured him. "It's a gift."
He actually chuckled and raised his eyebrows at her. "You might not be right about your choice of outfit."
"What do you mean?" She snapped. Her own eyebrows were furrowed as she reached for her drink again. She hated beer. She wouldn't be caught dead drinking anything else at the Roadhouse, though. She'd be torn to pieces by the other hunters if she ordered anything too 'girly.'
"Well, you're not exactly dressed for hunting anything other than a library book."
By the look on her face, she genuinely hadn't expected that. "I am perfectly dressed, thank you very much. And anyway, it's not like we're going to get ambushed here. I know for a fact that this place is as prepared as it can be for any sort of attack. Besides, what exactly were you trying to achieve with your haircut? Do you want your enemies to laugh at you?"
He blanched, his hand involuntarily going up to brush through his beloved Mohawk. Nobody insulted the 'hawk. "That's not a problem for me."
She snorted. "Of course."
Unable to resist himself, Puck smirked at her. "So... it's Rachel, huh?"
"That's me."
"This your partner?" He asked her, looking toward the blonde Sam was currently exchanging phone numbers with. Smooth bastard.
"Yes. Quinn and I have been working together for three years now," she mused, smiling, "It's nice to share the job with somebody."
He nodded, suddenly and painfully reminded of his twin brother, Aaron. He shook the memory from his mind, instead focusing his attention on the small woman before him. "Yeah," he said simply. She seemed disappointed at his sudden lapse into silence, but luckily he was saved from the awkward situation by Ellen whistling loudly from behind the bar.
"That's it, you lot! Come on. Let's get this over and done with."
As usual, everybody listened to her. Nobody messed with the owner of the place, lest they be banned from their favourite haunt. Rachel offered him a short smile before standing up, leaving her still half-full glass on the table, but not without grabbing her gun, and slipping past him, towards the crowd of hunters gathering around the large rectangular table on the opposite side of the room.
He turned and watched as Quinn, her partner, bid Sam goodbye for now and followed the tiny woman. Sam stared after the taller girl, a goofy grin on his face.
"No use getting attached," Puck told the love-sick fool, "We don't get to do that stuff."
"Do what stuff?"
"Have families and shit."
Sam sighed, exasperated. "I forgot how cynical you are. You have a family, right? Point proven."
"A fucked up family," Puck muttered.
The blonde man sighed and pulled his cap further down. "Come on. We won't get a seat."
"I'd hate for that to happen," Puck remarked sarcastically. Sam didn't reply. He was already on the move, striding quickly toward the opposite side of the room. The seats were filling quickly. Puck didn't move as quickly as Sam had. He didn't mind standing. He figured he wouldn't like what he was hearing anyway. Why bother with comfort when discomfort was almost inevitable?
Ellen had moved to stand at the head of the rectangular table. Once Puck settled against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, she waited patiently for everyone to become silent once more. They did so almost immediately.
"Thanks for coming," she began shortly. "I'm afraid this isn't going to be good news."
Jo fidgeted anxiously at her mother's side. Puck didn't bat an eye - like every other hunter in the saloon. They all wore the same grave expression.
"This isn't anything we've faced before," Ellen was saying. Puck's fists clenched and unclenched as she uttered those words. "Something's happening that we don't really have the forces to fight."
A few of the men at the front of the table grumbled under their breath.
"No, Howard. You can't fight anything," the proprietor snapped. "You need to stop being so cocky and listen. This is damn important."
The middle-aged man named Howard shut up after that alright.
"Demons." At that word, a ripple of distaste wove through the crowd of men and women. "Some of us have faced them, others haven't. It doesn't really matter all too much. I'm sure you've all noticed that things aren't exactly the normal level of weird lately."
That was true. The number of cases had increased rapidly over the last few weeks. Puck had thought that maybe it was just a coincidence. It seemed that he was wrong.
"We don't really know what's going on yet," Ellen stated truthfully. "But whatever it is, it's big. I can tell you that much. Any of you heard about those nuns murdered in Illinois recently?"
A bunch of hands were raised in the air. Rachel's was amongst them, Puck noticed.
"We all know that that wasn't just your average wacko-job. That was some serious demonic doom."
A few hunters murmured in agreement. Ellen eyed them guardedly, her eyes narrowed as they always seemed to be. Her husband had died a few years back, Puck remembered. She didn't have time for mucking about. There were things that needed to be done.
"There have been other cases that are very, very similar. Always set in a church or a synagogue-"
"Aren't they always?" The hunter she had warned before piped up, earning a few uneasy chuckles from his group of friends.
Ellen pursed her lips before speaking, her voice sharp and to the point. "Interrupt me again, Howard, and I'll have to come on over there and smack you one across the back of the head."
Puck smirked as the man named Howard went bright red.
"Now, I called y'all here because I've got word that there's a serious demon haunt in an abandoned warehouse somewhere on the outskirts of Lima."
Puck tried to hide his immediate shock. Lima? That was where his sister and mother lived. Aaron. If those bastards so much as-
"There's a load of them there. At least twenty. I've got a couple guys patrolling the area as we speak. I called you all up here to recruit some extra help," Ellen stated. Her gaze flitted across the faces of the men and women sitting and standing around the large rectangular piece of furniture. "That is, of course, if you're ready to risk your lives to help save mankind."
She said the words almost sarcastically. She was taunting those, if there were any, who were considering backing out of such an operation. It was true that this was the largest group of demons that they had ever come across at once. If this was really going to go down, there was no doubt that there would be losses. And by losses, Puck meant deaths.
"That's what I thought," she said, watching as the hunters whispered to one another, their plans already coming together. Nobody wanted to be the person to let the group down, to wimp out and to value their own life above the lives of the innocent people currently residing in Lima. "We leave tomorrow. We're gonna try and catch them before they move on to do whatever else it is that they're planning. But we don't just want to kill them, because let's be honest folks, they don't go down so easily."
A few of the more experienced hunters nodded in understanding. Puck had only faced one demon in his life time. It had scared the absolute shit out of him, seeing such a thing. Aaron had saved his life that day. He would never forget that, no matter how many times he had tried to.
"We plan to capture at least one of the bastards," Ellen told them. There was nothing cocky or confident about her expression. She realised the risk that this case posed. Still, she was right. They needed to get to the bottom of this. They couldn't let the demons congregate, planning and scheming behind their backs. "We'll get as much information out of them as possible. That's the plan."
The table buzzed with gossip. For a moment, it seemed as if they were almost anticipating such a large battle. Puck, personally, hadn't stopped thinking about the demons residing in the same town that his family were living in ever since the bar owner had mentioned their whereabouts.
Ellen coughed loudly and the attention of the large congregation of hunters was captured once more. "We leave tomorrow morning. So, I know it's not much, but you're welcome to stay in one of the guest rooms out back. However, some of you will have to either stay out here or in your cars. There's a motel a few miles south which'll take a couple of you, I'm guessing. It's up to you lot to figure out what you're gonna do tonight. And as for arms, we got plenty of iron and salt here, but we're gonna need every weapon we can get. It's all hands on deck this time around."
With that, she was done. She nodded once at the lot of them then reached for her daughter's hand, the likes of which was trembling slightly. Jo didn't hunt yet. Ellen had never allowed her to. At the moment, she was far too young. She wouldn't be coming with them tomorrow, Puck thought as he watched Ellen lead her out the back, a sad look on the older woman's face. She was going to reassure Jo that she would do everything to return to her tomorrow, he realised, just like her father hadn't been able to do.
Puck was thinking about his own father when he felt Sam's presence beside him. He turned and looked at the guy, his face set gravely.
The blonde man looked solemn. "Well, I guess that's that. You're coming tomorrow, right man?" Sam questioned, his hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans. Puck saw the outline of the man's gun through his sweater. Of course, nobody had entered the Roadhouse unarmed. You just never knew when disaster would strike.
And struck it had.
"'Course," Puck told him, flashing him a smirk so that he would appear unafraid. Inside, Puck was panicking. He caught sight of the tiny woman, Rachel, standing in a small circle of hunters with Quinn. She was twisting her safety-locked handgun in her hands, her expression sombre. He couldn't help but mirror her emotions.
Tomorrow, he would be within two or so miles of his twin – the brother that he hadn't seen in over twelve months. The brother who had abandoned him for a better life.
Author's Note: This is my new multi-chapter fic. I like to have two of them going at once, I've noticed, and I've had this one stuck in the back of my mind for a very long time. I really, really enjoyed writing this and I know it's short but I wanted to get something out to you guys. It will, obviously, be set in the Supernatural universe. There will be an emphasis on Puck and his relationships with both Aaron and Rachel. I plan for it to be quite a bit longer and a lot darker than my previous fic, Stupid Ambitions For A Witch, which was set in the Harry Potter world. I will further develop characters and their histories as we go on, but I wanted to get the bowl rolling. This will be an action-packed, paranormal romance featuring my favourite pairing, Puckleberry. I will be using various characters from Glee, who will feature as hunters, humans, demons, angels... the list goes on. You can guess who's going to be what, but I'll keep that a secret for now. I'm so evil, right? Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed this and will continue on reading it. I will try to update as much as I possibly can. I edit my own work so I'm sorry if I have left mistakes in there - I don't have a Beta, so it can't be helped! So, yeah, thank you and please review!
what the face