A/N: I don't own Chuck, I don't own these characters, I'm not making money off this.

Previously in Chuck v. The End of History:

Chuck: "Your grand plan is to send us against an island fortress of Ring operatives, hope that we can somehow find an entrance to their secret underground lair, break-in, steal the Intersect source code, maybe plant some bombs or explosives, and get out without all of us being killed?"

General Mills: "Yes, that about sums it up."

Chuck: "And this doesn't strike you as a monumentally stupid plan?"

XXXXX

Sarah: "Chuck, what you agreed to do . . . it's a suicide mission. . . . I'm coming with you."

Chuck: "And I can't convince you otherwise?"

Sarah: "Till death do us part."

Team Bartowski's vote was unanimous. They were all going. Even Morgan, albeit with the strict caveat that he would stay on the boat and monitor the comms. Three days of planning ensured. They reviewed satellite photos, plotted the best naval course, chose two Marines for backup, "redshirts," as Chuck called them, and planned the op. Their flight out was the next morning, to St. Thomas. From there, a boat would await them. Under the cover of night, they would assault Hobbes Island, identify an entrance to the base, infiltrate it, download the source code and, destroy the facility. If they had time, they also planned to upload Stephen's Internet removal program to the worldwide satellite network.

The night before, the Team, Orion included, assembled at Ellie's and Devon's for one last meal together. The wine flowed. The roast was properly seasoned. The asparagus was too salty. And a thick fog of tension filled the air, as Ellie brought out a pumpkin pie for dessert.

"Chuck, what's wrong?" his sister asked. She could sense him staring at his plate and avoiding eye contact with her. He was fiddling nonchalantly with his fork, playing with pieces of pie crumbs.

Chuck transparently feigned ignorance. "Nothing. It's just, I've missed this. . . these past few months."

"I see," Ellie answered. She didn't believe her brother, but didn't want to press the issue. It could wait.

"Whatever happened to that Walt guy?" Devon asked.

"Gone." Sarah answered.

"And good riddance." Casey added.

Chuck tapped Morgan on the shoulder. "We should go," he said.

Ellie queried them "What's up?"

Chuck maintained his paper-thin charade. "Nothing, just an evening planned."

"Without Sarah?" Ellie pressed.

Sarah smiled and jumped in. "I'll have him the rest of the night. I can give the two of them a few hours."

As Chuck got up, Ellie escorted him and Morgan to the door. Chuck wrapped his sister in a big bear hug. "You know I love you, right?"

Ellie backed off a bit. "Chuck? Now you're scaring me."

Chuck re-embraced her, and pulled her tighter. He whispered in her ear. "I'm not really an analyst."

A look of horror and realization crept across Ellie's face. She hadn't realized it. She had bought Walt's cover story.

"I know," she responded, lying.

Tears welled up in Chuck's eyes. "We're going after some very dangerous people, sis. These people . . . they killed mom. That's why she never came back to us."

"MOM?" Ellie responded, raising her voice. "What do you know? Talk. Now."

Stephen answered from the table. "She was a lot like Chuck, Ellie. She had the same employer. This organization that he's going after, that we're going after, they killed her."

Ellie's eyes burned with rage and indignation. "How long have you known?"

Stephen waffled. "Not long, all things considered. A little more than a year. Before then, I didn't know much more than you did. Chuck has only known for about nine months."

Ellie began crying, but her anger held back most of her tears. "And you both decided to keep me in the dark? And now you're going to run off to get yourselves killed too? If what you've said is true, I've lost a mother to these people. Now you want me to risk losing a father and brother too?"

Chuck grabbed her hands tenderly. "I shouldn't have said anything. I didn't want our last night . . . to end like this."

Ellie shuddered at the words "last night."

Chuck grabbed her hands again. "Ellie, I promise I'll come back for you."

Casey groaned. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Bartowski."

Chuck gave her one last hung. "Please, I don't want to fight. I promise to explain everything, when I get back. This is just one last mission."

Ellie balled out with tears, but sorrowful acceptance. Chuck kissed her forehead and left with Morgan.

Once outside, Morgan spoke. "You know, we don't have to do this. It's one last night. You should spend it with Ellie . . . with family."

Chuck moved his head nonchalantly. "You're family, Morgan. Besides. . . Ellie . . . We said our goodbyes. A few more hours in there won't change anything. She's never going to accept this, and certainly not in one night. Plus, if we've got any hope of succeeding . . . I need my mind clear."

Morgan studied his old friend. Chuck's moral compass remained the same. His attempt to save Walt proved it. But this life had clearly taken a toll on him. The Chuck he knew from three years ago wouldn't have left Ellie's side. And he certainly wouldn't have rationalized his decision by saying he needed to keep his mind "clear." Still, Morgan understood where Chuck was coming from – Ellie's love was overflowing and immense. Yet it was maternal, protective, and highly judgmental. Even Sarah's love had shades of the latter two qualities. Sarah understood the job. But her fierce desire to protect Chuck clouded matters, as did her lingering distaste for Chuck taking the spy path. A part of Sarah, Morgan sensed, would always miss the dopey computer technician she first met, and would perpetually blame herself for Chuck's loss of innocence. Morgan pondered it all. Out of Ellie, Sarah, and himself, he was the only one who truly offered Chuck unconditional, nonjudgmental acceptance. His best friend was a spy who was going to save the world. And he was going to help him, the only way he knew how.

They drove around that night – from their old high school, to the Malibu Pier, to a disgusting sandwich shop they favored one summer when Chuck was home from college. They laughed. They drank soda. They played video games at the Pier's arcade. And they capped off the night by sitting in their car, right outside the Buy More. The old girl was shuttered, closed. And not just for the night.

"It closed a few months ago," Morgan explained. "You know how they used to say that you were the glue that held that place together? They were right."

"How so?" Chuck asked.

"I heard about it from Big Mike. A few weeks after you quit, Jeff resigned. The guy just fell off the planet. Lester soon followed. Then Emmett got into a nasty altercation with a customer. Sales plummeted. Plus, they stopped getting all those mysterious all-day installs."

"Ah, yes." Chuck nodded. The missions, billed and paid for as Buy More installs. By the end, they probably amounted to a good chunk of the store's revenue.

"Anyway," Morgan said, "we should get back. Sarah's going to miss you. . . and we're shipping out in about ten hours."

Chuck hugged his friend. "Thanks for this." The night had started off heavy, at Ellie's. But the rest of the night was light, fun, carefree. Chuck realized that, despite the inevitable events of the next day, he probably felt happier and more relaxed than at any time since downloading the 2.0.

Morgan gave him an "aw shucks" look. "Hey, what are heterosexual life partners for?"

The flight down was uneventful. Once in St. Thomas, the team assembled in the armory of a small CIA outpost near Mandal Point. Supplies had been ferried in over the past few days, whatever the team would need. Sarah gasped in surprise as she noticed Chuck loading himself up with a live semi-automatic rifle.

"Chuck, they have tranqs," she commented, gesturing to the tranq pistols.

Chuck responded almost guiltily. "I know . . . but we don't know what we'll be facing . . . what kind of body armor they might have. For all we know, with what they've got, a tranq dart might just bounce off one their sci-fi encounter suits. I can't risk," he stammered, "I can't risk them hurting you, hurting any of us, because I can't handle a real gun. Besides," Chuck glanced over at his father, "that bug in my head will prevent me from aiming to kill. And the rest of the Intersect should do a pretty good job of making sure that I can aim to disable."

"Ok." She reached up and kissed his cheek. She still didn't want him carrying a real gun, but she was gratified for his explanation.

The waves parted furiously as the boat pierced them, pushing into a strong gale wind. The boat sped onward at 55 knots.

"Some folks are born to made to wave the flag.

Oh, they're red, white and blue.

And when the band plays 'Hail to the Chief'

Ooh, they point the can-"

Casey furiously yanked the iPod, speakers on maximum, and thew it into the ocean.

"Hey!" Morgan protested.

"What part of launching a secret nighttime assault do you not understand, moron?," he scowled. "It's not a secret if the Ring hears you blasting that damn hippie crap."

Morgan protested. "Dude, it's Creedance Clearwater Revival, and a classic."

Chuck and Sarah both suppressed giggles. Chuck smiled at his old friend. He knew that bringing him placed him in danger. But, in that brief moment, it was worth it. A bit of levity to take his mind off the task at hand. He looked at his watch, and at the impending shoreline. Soon, it would be showtime.

Fifteen minutes later, the boat came to rest just off the sandy beach. Chuck, Casey, Sarah, Stephen, and the two Marines – Sgts. Garibaldi and Allen – came ashore. Morgan stayed on the boat, monitoring a computer screen and linking himself to the team through comms.

The team approached stealthily; their night vision goggles activated. It was 3:45 in the morning. The new moon sky was dark, except for a cascade of stars. Chuck looked up briefly and gazed. Growing up in Los Angeles, then going to Stanford, he had never seen a night sky like this. A sky full of stars. So beautiful. So peaceful. He shook it off. This was no time to get distracted.

Casey motioned that they should split off. Hobbes Island was small, only 123 acres, less than 0.2 square miles, but the entrance to the base could be anywhere. Chuck, using his hands, directed the party to stick together for security. Their numbers were small, but together they at least stood a chance. They pressed onward, walking as quietly as possible.

Just then, large halogen stadium lights flashed on all around them. The lights blinded them temporarily. As the shock faded, they saw the lights strategically hung from trees. The Team bandied together, forming a protective circle, their backs to one another, and scanned the area.

Morgan was the first one to spot it, through the camera attached to Chuck's goggles. It was small at first, emerging from the back of a hill. It was a flag. The flag of . . . Buy Moria?

He hissed Chuck, then the team, to direct their attention towards it. The flag became more and more visible. It was clearly being waved by someone. That someone came into view. It was Lester Patel, flanked by Jeffrey Barnes to his left, and Emmett Millbarge to his right. Lester was still dressed as a Nerd Herder. Emmett, likewise, wore his Buy More uniform, complete with his Assistant Manager's vest. Only Jeffrey was dressed differently. He was in a t-shirt, which depicted Gollum in his cave, clasping a golden ring.

"Charleston, Charleston, it's been a long time," Lester announced. "I'm glad that you can finally answer the question which plagued Casey for so long."

"Huh?" Chuck answered.

"What sandwich did you take to a tropical desert island?"

Chuck shook him off. "What are you all doing here?"

Lester starting prancing around, conveying an aura of authority. "Our employer wanted to meet you."

"The Ring," Casey growled.

Lester continued. "Said employer thought you'd be more likely to cooperate, to come quietly, if you were greeted with a friendly face."

Chuck responded with defiance. "Charles Bartowski doesn't come quietly."

"Ugh, no kidding," Casey groaned. "You squeal like a little girl."

"Casey!" Sarah interjected.

Casey cranked his head towards her. "I'm right down the hall. You and the moron have been going at it for months."

Chuck ignored the banter and tried to focus on the task at hand, shaking off his false sense of bravado. "Lester, you work for the Ring now?"

"Not just us," Lester answered. He put two fingers to his mouth and whistled. Emerging from the surrounding hills was the complete Buy More staff. Big Mike. Skip Johnson. Fernando. Bunny. And about a dozen other employees. Each of them carried an AR-15 semi-automatic rifle. And they looked . . . . buff. Fernando, for instance, had swapped 40 lbs of fat for 20 lbs of muscle. Unlike Lester and Emmett, none were in their Buy More uniforms. Instead, they sported military-style desert camouflage and body armor.

Casey gasped with "You're telling me the entire frelling Buy More was filled with Ring agents?"

Chuck scanned around him. Big Mike was swinging nunchaku like a trained expert. Emmett was in the starting pose of a krav maga master. Most of the armed green shirts were carrying their weapons in the manner of skilled marksmen. And their obvious physical fitness? Far off the charts compared to what he remembered. They'd been training with a dedication they never had for . . . well, anything.

Chuck shook Casey off. "I don't think so. Look around. They're all Intersected. They're not agents. They're pawns, slaves. They were probably sent here . . ."

"Because the Ring knows we won't risk hurting them," Casey said, finishing Chuck's sentence, and grunting.

Chuck nodded back at him. Casey was right. Even with his Intersect-assisted aim, he wasn't going to shoot Lester, or Jeff, or Big Mike, or any of the people he worked with. Not even Emmett.

Casey emitted a grunt. "So now we need to deal with Evil Lester. Great."

"Was there ever a time when Lester wasn't evil?," Morgan added over the comms.

Lester broke up the back-and-forth. "Enough chit-chat. Drop your weapons and surrender."

Chuck paused a minute, trying to assess the situation. Figuring out a course of action, he answered back. "Lester, drop the game. Your bosses, they don't want us dead. If they did, the Buy Morans would have shot us already. Let's all put down our weapons and fight like civilized people."

As a sign of good faith, Chuck began lowering his weapon.

Lester's eyes zoned out for a moment, as he processed new instructions from his overloads. Receiving the information, he answered back "Agreed."

Collectively, and simultaneously, the extended Team Bartowski and the Intersected Buy Morans slowly put down their guns.

Emmett then grabbed the flag of Buy Moria from Lester's hand, raised it high, and screamed "For Buy Moria!"

Lester raised his fists, pumped them in the air, and declared "For the Ring!"

Fernando cried out "Fernando's gonna kick Casey's ass," referring to himself in the third-person.

Big Mike added, in the direction of the shoreline, "Where are you Morgan? I know you're here somewhere. I pounded your mama, now I'm going to pound you too, son."

The camo-wearing Buy Morans fully emerged from their hiding places. They encircled the extended Team Bartowski and began closing in on their position. Chuck flashed on fighting skills and assumed a defensive pose.

Lester, meanwhile, from the top of the ridge, ran towards Jeff. Lester extended his right hand towards his older blond companion. In so doing, Lester revealed that he was wearing a strawberry-flavored Ring Pop on his right index finger. Lester clasped Jeff's fist and cried out: "Wonder Twin powers, activate: form of, a cheetah."

Jeff turned towards his old friend. "Sorry, the Intersect doesn't work like that."

Lester shook him off, "Eh, no matter." Then Lester ran, summersaulted in the air, and tackled Chuck.

"Chuck, I heard about your . . . surgery," Lester said, as they tussled on the ground.

"Huh?" Chuck answered.

Lester gave off an evil laugh. "Join me, Chuck. Together let us pour out our wrath upon the uncircumcised."

"TMI, Lester, TMI," Chuck answered, as he threw Lester off him. "Besides, what does that even mean?"

Lester backflipped and tried to kick Chuck, but Chuck blocked it. "I have no idea," Lester confessed. "I just thought it would sound cool. But what do you owe those Washington Foreskins anyway?"

Chuck dived between Lester's legs, spun around, and roundhouse kicked Lester in the back of the head. Lester went down, knocked out cold. "Time to cut the Ring down to size," he remarked.

"Pun, did you just pun, Chuck?" Morgan asked over the comms. Chuck cracked a small smile and scanned the area.

Frantic fighting ensued all around him. Skip Johnson did a backflip, grabbed Sgt. Garibaldi between his knees, then flipped him to the ground. Two former Buy Moran green shirts were pounding Sgt. Allen from each side. Big Mike, aided by two former green shirts, was running the direction of the boat. Morgan would soon be captured. Sarah appeared to be doing ok, holding off Bunny, Emmet, and a green shirt simultaneously. Casey, however, was in trouble. Skip Johnson, fresh from knocking out Sgt. Garibaldi, had catapulted himself towards Casey, flattened him to the ground, and placed him in a chokehold. Two former Buy Moran green shits rushed to hold him down. Fernando emerged from Casey's posterior and, literally, began kicking his ass. Stephen, simultaneously, was trying to fight off close to half-a-dozen green shits.

Making a split-second decision, Chuck ran towards his father. Casey would need to wait. Chuck back-flipped and kicked two the former Buy Moran green shirts attacking Stephen. They collapsed, knocked unconscious. His father, dazed but freed, tried to run for cover.

Then Chunk felt it. The sting of someone's boot. He fell backwards, stammering. His head hit the cold night-time sand. He looked up, and saw three blurry images of Emmett Millbarge standing over him.

From his prone position, Chuck grasped his surroundings. He could see them. Bunny was squatting over a passed-out Sarah, making a crude gesture. Bunny then dropped her shorts and appeared to pass wind right above Sarah's sleeping eyes. "That's what you get for taking Chuck away from me," Bunny exclaimed.

Simultaneously, Fernando was tea-bagging, video game style, a passed-out Casey. Twisting his upper-body into a mini-dance, Fernando air-pumped his fists in celebration and snapped his fingers. A gleeful, almost euphoric smile blasted from Fernando's face, as he repeatedly rose then lowered his clothed crotch unto Casey's nose.

As for Stephen, a host of green shirts had caught up to him, restrained him, and pinned him to the ground. Stephen was trying to fight them off. But his middle-aged physique was no match for the squad of Intersected goons. Only Chuck remained.

"Mr. Bartowski, how nice of you to join us," Emmett pronounced, his face perched over Chuck's. Chuck backflipped up and punched Emmett in the jaw.

"Always wanted to do that." Chuck exclaimed. Just then, Chuck felt a pinch in his neck. Not like a punch. More like a needle. Or, more accurately, a dart. He turned around to see Jeffrey Barnes with a tranq pistol, arms extended. Chuck felt woozy as he collapsed on the ground.

Jeffrey heard something in his ear piece.

"I thought we agreed no guns." It was the voice of the Ring Chair.

"Ma'am," Jeffrey responded, "the objective is to secure Chuck and his father unharmed. Letting them get their asses kicked isn't going to accomplish that."

Mary responded back to him. "Understood and agreed. Make sure that our guests are comfortable, and that the injured ones receive medical attention. Then report back to the Chamber. We must make preparations to greet the Little Child."

Jeffrey stood over the unconscious, sleeping body of his former Nerd Herd Supervisor. He gazed at him with a curious expression. "Sleep tight, my old friend. For the End of History is Nigh."

A/N 1: Remember, this diverges from the end of Season 2. So, in this story, Emmett wasn't killed early in Season 3.

A/N 2: As a Fanfic author, it's tough to be original. There are over 4500 Chuck stories written. But try to find me one where Fernando is both an intersect and kicks Casey's ass. I might not be the best writer here, or anything close to it, but I at least try to be original and do the unexpected. And I think the final 2 chapters of this story will go in a direction that you'll find surprising. Oh, and I like reviews.