Notes: And now for one of my all time favorite scenes...everyone, I would like you to meet Ceramic Chuck.

Disclaimer: Oh, to own these lovely shows...it is too grand an honor for meek little me to even think of deserving *dramatic sigh*

Hiya chaoswalking! Thanks for the sweet review! I am so happy that you are enjoying it so far! Huggles! :D

And hello Andaere! Many thanks for another review! I'll tell you now, Chuck is in for some intense stuff this story. So here's the latest chapter hot off the presses! I hope you like it! Hugs!

Warnings:This story contains religious themes and undertones throughout the whole story. No offense is meant. It is simply one single view/opinion that someone may have. It doesn't necessarily have to be the authors actual opinion, so if possible I would like to ask for no flames and if you are truly offended then feel free to private message me to share your thoughts and you can skip this story.


CHAPTER 2

They moved as a group into the first mud quarry that they came upon. There were hundreds of workers pulling hoses, shoveling gravel, pushing wheelbarrows, the entire place was hopping. Bobby elbowed Dean hard in the side when he spotted what they assumed was the foreman of the quarry. The assumption was based mostly on the fact that he was the only one of the workers who wasn't caked head to toe in mud.

Balthazar spotted him next and strutted right over to the foreman, an air of business about him, and Dean was a little impressed with him.

"Hello, hello! I'm…well I'm looking to buy some mud it seems." He said rubbing his hands together as if he were excited at the prospect. The mudder didn't seem to notice the somewhat overeager energy and simply smile a near toothless grin back at the potential client.

"Well then you've come to the right place!" He said enthusiastically, chuckling as he slapped Balthazar in a friendly manner on the back, leaving a giant muddy handprint on his blazer. The posh man didn't seem to notice it, but Dean couldn't wait to see his face when he found the stain later. It would be pure gold.

The foreman welcomed the crew with a wide gesture to follow him as he led them through the narrow paths of the mud factory, turning his head halfway back to them giving a running commentary as they moved along, much like a tour guide. Dean wondered jokingly to himself if there would be a gift shop at the end of this.

"Of course we can handle any volume here. We have over 2,000 workers, mostly indentured. We pay them next to nothing, so that we can pass the savings directly on to you, the customer. And them clean-looking folks over there are the prods. They's the Magistrate's personal guard. They's like the law around here."

Now the guy was beginning to sound like an old ship's salesman as well as a tour guide, mused Dean.

Balthazar let out an over dramatic cry of happiness, "Savings?! That's excellent, because, I'm telling you now, my dear sir, I'm going to need copious amounts of good old fashioned mud."

The foreman nodded back, not noticing the snickering crew that walked behind them, "Yuppers! Ours is the best of it's kind. We mix it, we brick it raw, right here on the premise. Iffin' you add the right catalyst, you kiln it good and proper, this stuff gets ten times stronger than steel at half the weight."

Somewhere behind him, Dean heard Meg's snort of disbelief. Luckily the foreman didn't hear her. The Captain really wasn't in the mood to deal with a mob of insulted mudders.

"Oh, yes! I've heard many a wonderful thing about your product. And might I say, this batch right here looks particularly promising. Is that sulfur I detect in the mixture? It must be some special trade secret you all have to create this wonderful…uh, mud." Balthazar kept up the continuous string of compliment, pointedly ignoring Dean's frantic gestures for him to cool it before they finally caught on to the freaking waterfall of sarcasm that was pouring out of the man's mouth.

Bobby was doing his best not to chuckle audibly, but anyone who looked could see the preacher's shoulders shaking with the repressed laughter. It seemed like the only one who wasn't enjoying himself was Chuck. He had pulled up one of the many collars he was wearing to hide the lower part of his face, and then pulled low the hat so that it covered most of the top, almost completely obscuring his vision. How he hadn't fallen flat on his face or walked into a pole yet was an impressive feat to Dean.

Bobby leaned over to the Captain, "I wish that Sam and Gabriel were here to witness this. They would get a real kick out of it. I just can't wait to see how Balthazar takes it when he notices the mud on his coat later. I bet the boys back on the ship will hear the howl from the town," he chuckled.

Dean smiled back wryly before stepping up next to where Balthazar was questioning the foreman about the different textures that could be produced, "Excuse me, boss? I'm sure the foreman had things that need attending to. Why don't we wander a bit, take a look at the operations, then you can figure out whether we get an account here."

"What a wonderful idea, Mr. Winchester!," Balthazar beamed and turned to the foreman, "That's why I hired him. Always thinking of others. I'll let you get back to your numerous duties and we'll just have a gander around." He shook the foreman's hand firmly with both of his own before walking off, not waiting for an answer, but the foreman merely shrugged and walked off to yell at some particularly lazy workers.

Dean turned to his crew once Balthazar had re-joined them, "All right, let's head to worker-town. Find our man Kessler, and then we get this job done.

"Not if Balthazar gets us killed first. If that guy didn't have bricks for brains he might have noticed that our "boss" was mocking him," scowled Meg.

Dean had to agree with her there, but he'd let Balthazar handle it. He had a feeling that the middle Novak knew how much he could get away with and was just playing around. Absently he glanced around himself to take note of the workers and to keep track of each of his crew, "I wouldn't worry over it, Meg. Besides, his disguise isn't half as funny as Chucks. The guy looks like he's from an ice-planet."

"Keep it down! Someone might hear you saying my name," hissed Chuck in a frantic whisper. He pulled his collar even higher.

"I'm sorry to tell you this, son, but that get-up you're wearing is more likely to draw attention to yourself than anything Dean could say about you," said Bobby from behind.

"I have to agree with them, my dear. You haven't been here in years. No one's going to remember you," stated Balthazar in a comforting tone. Chuck's attention was so wrapped up in what the others were saying that he didn't notice when Bobby had stopped dead in his tracks and each of them bumped into the preacher awkwardly.

Angrily each of them looked up at the older man, wanting to know why he had stopped so suddenly, but he was staring at something straight ahead.

"I dunno, Balthazar. I'm starting to think that it's possible they might remember him a bit."

They all looked ahead of them to where in the center of the town was a large ceramic statue standing proudly in an inspirational pose of none other than…Chuck.

Dean couldn't believe his eyes, "Sonuvabitch."


They all stood there stunned for what could have been a good few minutes, mouths agape, before Dean finally chose to break the awkward silence.

"Hey, Chuckie?"

"Um, yes Dean?"

"You want to tell me how come there's a statue of you here looking at me like I owe him something?"

"Um, I really wish I could, Captain." They all turned to look at Chuck who had paled alarmingly going by what little skin they could see under his costume. He had wrapped his arms around his middle, a common enough gesture that he did whenever he was super confused, super worried, super embarrassed…or just nervous in general.

"I'm serious here, Chuck. Why the hell am I looking at two of you here, one of which is actually kind of intimidating?"

Chuck whined loudly, "I'm telling you Dean. I've got no freaking idea! I was here a few years back. I spent a few months working on my first book, met some people, and then I left! They don't put you on a pedestal in town square for that!" he said in a voice close to hysterical.

"Well, we're looking at some compelling evidence that says they do," huffed Bobby, still not taking his own eyes off of the statue and the inscription beneath it.

Meg was openly staring slack-jawed, "This…this must be what going crazy feels like. I've never felt so close to Castiel as I do now."

"I think they captured him, though. You know, captured his essence," stated Balthazar like he was at some fancy art museum commenting on some abstract contemporary art.

"I think he looks constipated," Meg said.

Balthazar nodded and turned to her with a smile, "That's kinda what I meant."

Instead of looking constipated, Chuck looked more like he was about to piss himself, dancing from one foot to the other in an impatient dance, "Hey, guys? How about instead of us being here…out in the open where someone might notice us, we move away from ceramic Chuck, stop playing art critic and get on with the job, is that good? Is that okay?" His eyes were darting every which way, but Dean wasn't sure how much he could actually see past the rim of his hat.

"I dunno, dude. This here spectacle might warrant a moment's consideration," Dean was really starting to enjoy this. In the back of his mind he was thinking about how he could get the other's down from the ship to see this. Gabriel would have probably died from laughter at this point.

Meanwhile Balthazar was moving his head from side to side, never taking his eyes off the statue. He bumped Bobby's and Meg's elbows to get their attention, "Is it just me…or does it seem like everywhere I go, his eyes keep following me?"

They all leaned to one side and then the other, copying Balthazar's movements. Meg was the first to break eye contact with ceramic Chuck, "Oh man! You're right! I always knew Chuck was a total creeper! They did a great job with this."

"Has anyone else read the inscription yet?" asked Bobby. Immediately all of them moved up to read the small text on the plaque at the foot of the monument.

"Now we are that spirit. And where the spirit of humanity lies, there is liberty," read Bobby out loud for them all.

"What the hell does that mean?" asked Dean.

Chuck swallowed audibly, "It's a…a quote."

"Quote from what?"

"Can we just go? We've got a job to do." And Chuck walked away quickly, leading them to the agreed upon meeting place, the other's following after taking one last glance at the statue.


"Magistrate Higgins, I presume?" Anna greeted the decorated man in front of her. For a mudder planet he was certainly dressed elegantly. It almost seemed a bit out of taste and over the top for such a rural area.

"You may presume away, my dear. But I only make the people I…preside over use my title. You may call me Mr. Higgins." He bowed low to kiss her hand, playing the perfect gentleman.

"And you may call me Anna, Mr. Higgins."

He straitened up his posture to meet her eyes, "It's a rare pleasure, a visit from a reputable Companion to our little planet. Journey wasn't too taxing, I hope?"

"Not at all. I'm refreshed and ready. Shall we begin at 7:30?" she asked, ready to get down to business. Some of her clients liked that she didn't make them go through too much small talk in the beginning.

He smiled broadly, "That sounds perfect. I have a feeling it will take all your arts to deal with this particular problem," he stated sourly.

"Oh, but every problem is an opportunity in disguise," she smiled back. A lot of men also liked the wise sayings. It tended to put them more at ease. The magistrate practically glowed with relief as he led Anna into the large estate.


Bwah ha ha! That scene always makes me laugh no matter how many times I see it. Ceramic Chuck is now one of my favorite characters of this series XD Next chapter will be posted tomorrow! And since I am quarter native american, I shall now begin my review dance to summon reviews!