Chas was more exhausted than he'd ever been in his entire life.
He was physically ill, running on four or five hours of constantly interrupted sleep a night, he hadn't eaten more than a couple donuts in two days, and he was getting more and more frustrated with John's constant demands.
Bring him this, take that to Midnite, I'm hungry, I want this I need this…
It never ended. Chas understood, of course; John was in pain. John had been through a lot. But it had been three days, and he was getting stronger with each day.
He was also acting more like a bitch with each day.
Which was precisely why Chas was outside in a downpour of rain, walking relics and books around to John's various contacts. He would've drove, but he'd had to turn in the cab when he lost his job, and he was too embarrassed and worried that John would be mad to tell him that he'd lost his job.
It wasn't all bad. After all, the people Chas owed money to would never be able to find him if he stayed at John's place. Of course, he needed to find a new job, and he couldn't do to while nursing the exorcist back to health.
After dropping off the last relic he headed back to the apartment. He tried to wring the water out of his hat in the hallway, since John had thrown a holy fit the last time he did it in the house.
Upon entering the apartment, the first thing he saw was John on the floor. Not unusual; John had tried to walk many times.
"John…"
"Don't even fuckin' say it, Chas, don't say it," John snapped as Chas helped him back up into the wheelchair.
"I wasn't going to."
"Whatever. I know what you're thinkin'."
"Sure you do."
John sneered. "Damn straight I do," he said, his tone a warning. "Get me a cigarette."
"How about a 'please'?"
"Get me the fuckin' cigarette, Chas."
John could be downright scary when he wanted to be, and this was one of those times. Chas sighed and grabbed the pack of cigarettes off the counter, and then paused a moment. After a hesitation for thought, he walked to the window, cracked it open, and threw the cigarettes out.
"You little fuckin' prick!" John yelped, his angry glare then locking on Chas.
Chas shrugged, trying not to look afraid. "You needed to quit anyway."
"Get me some damn cigarettes now, Chas."
"All you have to do it say please."
"I don't have to fuckin' say anything to you!"
Chas felt his throat tighten and his fists clench. "It's not that much to ask, John…"
"You're such a god damn useless bitch!" John snapped, grabbing the nearest object- a glass off the table- and giving it a good throw in Chas's direction. Chas's eyes widened and he ducked, and the glass shattered against the wall behind him.
"Useless?" Chas repeated coldly, his fear turning to a strange, restrained fury.
"You heard me, Chas, I want you to go and get-"
"No."
John's eyebrow twitched. "What the hell do you mean, no?"
"Exactly that," Chas said, slowly stalking toward John, eerily calm for the situation. "I've been your bitch for two weeks, doing everything you told me to, even stuff you didn't. Fuck, if it weren't for me, you would've starved by now. And the second I ask for one word…one fucking word, John…you can't even give me that much."
Chas's tone was so strange, so tense, John couldn't find words to respond with. All the better, because Chas obviously wasn't done, and with each word his tone grew more desperate and his voice got louder.
"I put my fucking life on hold for you. I lost my job, lost my apartment, lost a shot at college, all because I wanted to stay and be here for you when you needed me. Help you up when you fall. Fucking fix your meals every day and make sure you're following doctor's orders," Chas continued, and then he reached John, slamming his hands down on the arms of the wheelchair with a steel grip.
"I asked for one fucking word after I've lost everything for you."
A silence. Chas, breathing hard, staring into John's eyes. John, looking panicked, leaning back in his chair, unable to speak.
"You're nothing but a self centered egotistical bastard," Chas whispered harshly, silent tears tracking down his cheeks. "Those doctors should've left you to die. I should've pulled the fucking plug on you. And if I didn't fucking love you, I would've, so help me God."
John's brow furrowed. "Chas, I…"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Chas shrieked, shoving the chair backwards. "I'm sick of your voice, I'm sick of your damn lies and orders, and I'm sick of you!"
Chas took a few deep, shaky breaths, hardly noticing that John was about ten shades paler than usual. He reached for his hat and backpack with a calm demeanor that was hardly fitting of the situation, and then slowly walked to the door, his gaze a bit hazed over, not really there. He paused with his hand on the doorknob.
"Burn in hell, bastard."
That said, he walked out the door.
Somehow, Chas found himself at the church.
He paced in front of the altar, hardly remembering how he got there, but it was pretty obvious from the fact that his clothes were soaked through with freezing cold rainwater. He was the only one in the church, since it was awfully late, and he spent a good ten minutes just pacing in front of the altar.
After that he stopped, looking up at the statue of the virgin Mary, her hands outstretched. He reached up and touched the statue's fingers, gently, almost as if he thought she was real.
"I know you throw all this shit at us to test us," he said quietly, his hand falling from the statue's. "But why'd it have to be all at once?"
No answer from the Holy Mother. A clap of thunder outside.
"Is this another Job thing? A bid between God and the Devil?" Chas continued, staring up at Mary's all-seeing eyes. "Because if it was, I think I just miserably failed."
"No, child…"
Chas spun around and blinked a few times. He hadn't heard anyone else come in, and yet there stood a man…woman…something in a suit. Feminine bone structure, golden hair, a smooth, British voice...but there was something distinctly male about it as well.
"Who are you?" Chas asked warily.
"Just a friend," the person said. "Looking out for you and John. My name is Gabriel."
No wonder it's so weird, Chas thought. A half breed. Should've known.
"If you're looking out for me and John, you should probably go check up on him first. He might be hungry by now," he said bitterly, turning back to the statue, which remained as still and unemotional as any other stone.
"My dear boy…God loves you. He wouldn't give you more to bear than you can handle."
Chas shook his head. "I can't handle this."
"But you can. And you have," Gabriel pointed out, stepping up beside Chas. "You're the only person who could."
Chas snorted. "That's for damn sure."
"You have more strength and purpose than you know, Chas," Gabriel said softly, laying a comforting hand on Chas's shoulder. "John may not have yet realized that, but you will soon have every chance to prove your worth. Don't lose faith in yourself or him."
Chas sighed, not looking up at the half breed. "It's too much. I've lost everything, and now he's probably gonna be pissed at me…"
Gabriel reached up, using one finger to gently lift Chas's chin.
"Trust him. He trusts you."
Chas stared at Gabriel till the angel moved his hand and smiled. Gabriel touched Chas's curly hair, and then turned and walked away, into the back of the church.
Chas looked back up at the statue, and blinked in surprise. Hanging from the Holy Mother's fingers was a white rosary.
Timidly, he reached forward and took the rosary from her hand, studying it. A sudden warmth came over him, and his hand closed on the cross.
You're right where you're supposed to be, doing exactly what you're supposed to be doing.
Go back to John.
Chas put the rosary into his pocket and crossed himself quickly, giving the statue a smirk. Then, he turned and headed for the doors.
When he stepped back out into the night, he found that the rain had stopped.