Notes: Wow, for a first time author I'm getting so much love. You guys are so awesome. I am so happy that I decided to finally give in and actually write something!

ship .me: I have found someone on the same wavelength as me! :O What number am I thinking of?

Disclaimer: *laughs pathetically* as if...

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 8

After scrambling to find his pants and shirt and Anna had thrown on a bathrobe, they opened the door to the shuttle to see the Magistrate's impatient face staring at Fess and refusing to even glance over at Anna.

"Fess I need to speak with you now. Alone," he growled.

The young man turned to Anna and nodded to her, silently assuring her that he would return as soon as he had finished with whatever his father wanted. Then he kissed her cheek gently before walking outside and shutting the door.

Not wanting to evesdrop, Anna moved away from the door and made busy by cleaning up the shuttle, finally blowing out the candles and turning on the lights. Those little chores taking up all of three minutes she cast a glance to the door again. She paused her breathing to try and hear something now that curiosity was starting to consume her normal politeness. She didn't hear raised voices, but she definitely heard the Magistrates sour tone as he spoke to his son.

He's probably going to ruin all of my hard work with Fess, she thought sourly and moved to start up a pot of tea. Maybe should could do damage control whenever Fess came back.

It took only ten minutes more for Fess to return and Anna was more than pleased to see him roll his eyes dramatically when he came back in. Clearly he was much more comfortable with sassing his father now. Anna allowed herself a pat on the back for that.

He sat down on her couch without invitation and rubbed tiredly at his face. No mere boy made that kind of gesture with that amount of weariness. Fess was coming to realize that the conscious awareness that came with being a man wasn't all glamour and power. This transformation she was seeing in less than a day was like a rare chance to watch a butterfly burst out it's cocoon.

"Dare I ask what that was about?" she prodded gently, small hesitant smile on her face as she poured them both a cup of tea. Fess exasperatedly shook his head and took a large sip of the beverage, not waiting to check the temperature. Thankfully he seemed no to notice the scalding water boiling it's way down his throat.

"That was about the criminal hearing for today. Apparently some things have occurred in the town overnight and have stirred things up a bit. Nothing for you to worry about. He didn't even bring you up. I was relieved."

Anna very nearly choked on her own sip of tea as her thought immediately went to her friends. Mentally she berated herself for thinking that the crew could handle even one simple job without finding trouble these days. She had once asked Dean why it always seemed to be them that found the trouble and his answer was a shrug and a cheeky, "damned if I know!"

"Oh, I don't mind hearing about it. Indulge me as I admit that I'm sort of curious as to what could upset your father so much." Yes, that sounded like a logical reason for her to ask. It didn't at all sound like she was concerned that her friends found yet another way to get mixed up in something. She sent up a small prayer for them to all be safe, and also wouldn't have to bail them all out of jail.

Fess didn't seem to notice her mild panic and he sighed wearily before answering, "My father has ordered me to attend this criminal hearing as he wants to set an example of how I should handle the town's folk when I attain his position."

"It seems reasonable, but maybe use his example as an example and not a guide. What was the crime that occurred?" She hedged, trying to keep the conversation within Companion guidelines.

Fess looked thoughtful for a moment, "Well, it's actually a bit more complicated than just a simple crime. You see, there's this man, uh…well it happened before my father and I came here. He wrote this book you see, and the people used its message to rebel against the previous Magistrate who treated them poorly. It became…a mess as my father calls it. I thought it was more of a tragedy because so many people ended up dying because of it. But, the writer, he became a kind of hero or idol to the people here in Canton."

Anna nodded at him encouragingly, "Go on." This didn't seem so bad yet. As far as she knew there was no crime in writing a book. Then again, who on their crew would be a part of that kind of inspirational writings? The only one on their crew who even admitted to writing was Chuck, and he only wrote adventure novels.

"Well, this writer is back apparently. He landed here yesterday."

Shit. It was her crew after all. Damage control time.

Fess continued not noticing her face lose all color, "When we moved here my father forbid me from reading the book, but I did anyway. It was the first time that I had ever not listened to him. It truly was inspiring. I can see why the people reacted that way they did. And after what happened to the old Magistrate…well, let's just say that my father never feared anyone more than he feared this writer."

Anna smiled indulgently, "Oh, yes. That is marvelous. Sounds like a remarkable person. I don't suppose you could give me the authors name? I do like a bit of light reading in between jobs." She laughed awkwardly.

"It's more than light reading. More people keep that book by their bedsides than they do bibles. The authors name is Chuck Shirley. I have an extra copy if you would like." He said the name with such awe that Anna almost didn't even react to the name at first. No one said Chuck's name with awe, but here they did it seemed. Sweet, awkward, stuttering Chuck. What was happening here? Anna was flabbergasted.

"This criminal hearing…it's for this, Chuck person?" Fess nodded absently as he sipped at his tea calmly, not noticing the turmoil in Anna's eyes.

"Yes. Although, I'm not sure what my father plans to charge him with. All he did was write a book. But my father had him traced back to his ship. He had Port Control put a land-lock on it. When Chuck goes back to his ship he'll find out he's grounded and can't escape whatever my father has planned for him. It's a shame though…I sort of hate the idea of his getting caught." Fess' face turned thoughtful as he idly traced his finger around the rim of his cup.

Anna stilled his hand with hers, "Yes, that would be bad….Listen, I need to tell you something."


Dean was examining the gruel that he had been served for breakfast. The bartender had told him it was this or more Milk. Deciding to give his liver and kidneys a break, Dean opted for the protein mush. He was beginning to regret his decision as the globular meal started to congeal to the point where his spoon could rest upon the top without sinking in.

He had been sitting here for the last hour going over every way that he could explain to Cas what he had meant earlier without sounding like a girl, and without sounding like an idiot. It had been pretty intensive. So far all he had been able to come up with was making Sam do it. He wasn't too sure that Cas was impervious to Sam's puppy eye "trust me, I love feeling feelings" look, but it was worth a shot.

He reached for the spoon to try a bite of his breakfast only to have it hold firmly to his tongue like there was an adhesive in the meal that clings to it. In a half fondly and half traumatic experience kind of way he thought of how this reminded him of Cas' "culinary adventures". With a frustrated sigh he released the spoon and sat back. Maybe he would just give his whole body a break. His stomach was precious to him and he wouldn't treat it this poorly if the only way he was going to earn Cas' forgiveness was to eat one of those protein sandwiches of his later.

He heavily dropped his head onto the table using his crossed arms as a pillow. Behind him he heard footsteps coming closer. He assumed it to be the bartender and without even looking up he held his hand out, "I think I'm all set for the uh…check."

Instead of hearing the grumbling voice of the bartender, he heard a smooth and frankly a kind of creepy voice from right behind him, "I hear you run with Chuck Shirley," it said in some pseudo friendly manner.

Dean half turned to address the voice, now seeing an emaciated man behind him. They guy looked like he could easily be in his fifties with the condition of his hands and skin, but there were no lines around his eyes and his hair was blonde, not gray. So upon his second glance Dean assessed him to be in his late thirties, early forties.

"Excuse me?"

A snake like smile crept over the man's face and for a moment Dean was concerned that his face might crack open from the expression. It looked like it had been centuries since this guy tried to break out a smile. "Chuck Shirley….about ye high. Brown hair. Squirrley disposition…and a lot to answer for. You remember now?"

Trying to play it cool Dean turned back to the bar, "Everyone knows him here. Big damn hero."

Then Dean felt it, the barrel of a gun cold against the back of his neck. The Captain cursed himself for turning around and lifted his hand in surrender. The man behind him moved closer to hiss into his ear, "You are going to take me to that dirty, low-down shingle of a man right now."

Dean shivered, "Listen, buddy. I really don't know…"

CRUNCH!

Dean suddenly found himself holding his broken nose after he had been swung around and had been punched in the face with the butt of the gun. Momentarily stunned, the man was able to manhandle Dean until he had him pressed up against the bar gun poised in Dean's now bloody face.

"I am not your "buddy", and I sure as hell ain't your friend. I just spent the last eight years steaming in a hot-box and you're going to sit here in front of me and lie about knowing Shirley?" His voice never raised in volume, but the deadly intent could be heard with each syllable he spoke and Dean found himself truly scared of this person.

Roughly he was pulled back only to be shoved into the bar again, rattling every bone in Dean's body, even his teeth were aching after that one, "All the folks here have been saying that you're a part of his crew, so…" Another rough shove and Dean was pondering how many sessions with Cas it would take to heal up bones, "Where is that no-good reptile hiding himself?" Somehow he had managed to pull Dean's knife off of him without the Captain even noticing and was now tracing it along Dean's jaw, "You better tell me, boy, or I'll cut off every last bit of those good looks."

The close proximity of the other man was the perfect opportunity for Dean to stealthily reach behind the bar and feel around until his hand curled around the neck of a promisingly heavy bottle. Wary of the knife in his face, Dean pulled the bottle out and smashed it over the man's head. He lashed out with the knife in his momentary confusion and got a lucky slice in on Dean's chest sending him to the ground.

He immediately pounced on Dean, holding the Captain in place on the dusty floor, knife and gun back in his face, "Ohh ho ho, boy we're not done here yet, but that little stunt is going to cost you an eye."

He leaned forward and Dean could only struggle helplessly as he watched the flash of the blade move closer to his eye, but then from outside they both heard chanting. A distant chorus of "Chuck" was being shouted out in the town and Dean absently remembered that it was probably noon and it was time for Chuck's big speech.

Seemingly forgetting his promise of making Dean into a Cyclops, he roughly pulled the still stunned Captain from the floor and marched them out of the bar, heading straight for the source of the chanting.


Ah! Violence! Oh noes!