Notes: Dudes. I have no idea where in the country y'all live and what the weather is like for you, but I'm sitting here wrapped up in three layers and a fuzzy orange blanket, sipping at hot chocolate and shivering so badly it's kinda hard to type XD It is damn cold! AGH!

Ship .me! So close! If you had doubled it...and added like...19, you would have totally had it! Totally psychic bond going on here.

chaoswalking: For being so awesome and leaving an equally awesome review...I have made you a little goody. Check out the link on my profile page. Hearts!

Disclaimer: I don't own this, but Dude, if only i did...the things I would be doing...the episodes that I would write...

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 9

The procurement of the goods was as simple as can be. Meg didn't even feel the need to do any intimidating posturing with the quick exchange and Sam was eternally grateful for the small break as the rode back through the town on the transcar. Balthazar and Cas had been dutifully radioing to them from fifty yards ahead reporting clear roads all through the town except for the town square, just like they had planned on.

Balthazar and Cas were waiting for them at the edge of town when the transcar caught up and Sam hopped off to greet them, "Hey, what's up? Why did you two stop here?" Sam asked concerned. The two brothers seemed unable to stand still and Cas looked incredibly impatient about something.

"Cassy won't go any further. He says he wants to go back to town now." Balthazar stated calmly. He didn't look annoyed or frustrated with Cas, more like he had become nervous as he picked up on his brother's agitation. It looked like the middle Novak had made a conscious decision to listen to Cas when he said something needed to be done.

Castiel's fidgeting was somewhat alarming for Sam as well. As odd as it was to listen to a person who was clearly a few shelves short of a library, Sam was not about to brush him off. He turned to the youngest Novak, "Okay Cas, you and I will head back to town," then he turned to Meg and Balthazar, "Meg, I want you to strap down the goods back on the ship so we are ready to go as soon as possible. Balthazar, go with her and tell Gabriel to heat up the Impala. Cas and I will round up the others. And then we're blowing this mess in the next half hour. Dongma?"

All nodded in agreement.

"Let us go collect our wayward babes," Whispered Castiel and then Meg and Balthazar sped off in the transcar while Cas and Sam started a light jog back to the town that eventually escalated into a full on run as Cas adjusted their pace, growing more and more frantic as they raced on. Sam's stomach slowly started to drop as the implications of Castiel's concern registered. Someone was in danger.


Bobby had been watching from the back of the crowd as all gathered. He had learned in his time that large groups of people usually didn't lead to good things, especially when he now knew that this particular crowd had once rebelled in such a way that caused many deaths.

His concern for their shy mechanic grew as he thought back on the desperate determination he had seen in the young man's eyes before he had gone off. The boy had something that he wanted to say, Bobby could see that plain as day. What really had the preacher worried was what he planned on saying. He could only pray it was what the crowd wanted to hear.

He would be comforted for now by the happy and loving cheers he heard for their mechanic among the throng of people. He chuckled to himself as a few of the young women of the town let out loud squeals as Chuck moved into sight, "They do love their boy."

Chuck! Chuck! Chuck! Chuck!

Bobby began to distance himself a bit from the crowd as it continued to grow, worried that he might be absorbed into the pool of people. He had a job to do and it was damn hard to keep an eye on things when he was packed in so tight with others he felt like a sardine in a can. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a few of the prods milling around the square. Two of the more clean looking ones were almost within hearing distance of the preacher. While it should seem perfectly normal for the prods to want to keep an eye on the gathering, Bobby couldn't shake the itchy feeling he had on the back of his neck. He wasn't so sure that their intentions here were entirely pure.

The Sheppard had learned in his short time here that the cleaner the man, the higher the status for this town, so he meandered his way inconspicuously over near them, just close enough to hear what they were saying.

"I don't understand it. Why aren't we just nabbing him now? He's right there," the first one said in an annoyed tone.

The second one shook his head, eyes never leaving the crowd, "Magistrate says no. We hold position, understand me?" He lashed out in a hushed whisper.

That was enough to alarm him, and Bobby quickly reached for his radio to call it in to Sam when he spotted the tall Winchester over the sea of people. Even from this distance he could see the slight panic in the young man's face. Then Bobby spotted Castiel. There was no mistaking that look. They had trouble brewing.


Chuck! Chuck! Chuck! Chuck!

He could feel his whole body shaking with each step he took closer to the makeshift stage they had set up. It was little more than an old crate set up next to his statue, but to Chuck, right now it looked more like center stage of a massive theater If it weren't for what he had to say here, he would have probably already wet his pants and run back to the Impala to hide. But this had to be done. He couldn't just sit by and these people made a monstrosity out of his work. Steeling himself, Chuck stepped up on the crate and looked out over the crowd.

Right below him, somehow managing to make her way all the way to the front, Beck stood beaming up at him. They were all beaming up at him. Chuck had to crush the wave of pride that rushed through him at the thought. This was nothing to be proud of. Still, he couldn't help but feel an urgent fondness for these people. He had felt it since the very day he came here and was promptly thrown into a coma for a few days after he was offered their favored drink. He loved them, and that's why he wanted his first book to be an inspiration for them. He had wrote it just for them…

Speech! Speech!

Awkwardly he cleared his throat, "Um…I'm really not so good with words…I guess that's why I became an author." He chuckled hesitantly at the confused looks that passed over a few faces, "But…I do want to thank you all for being here, and for…thinking so much of me, but I don't deserve it. When I wrote that book…I wrote it with all of you in mind. From where I sat I saw that you people had been given the shortest end of the stick that had ever been offered a human soul in this 'verse. And I could only sit back a watch as your souls clung to that short stick, slowly losing their grips and about to fall into nothingness."

He took a moment to glance around the crowd again, cataloging all of their faces as they were now. So hopeful, so empowered… "I wanted to save you. But I only had simple tools to do so, so I wrote. And now I come back to see that you have gripped that stick tight, and rose from perdition. And that's…well, I guess that's something."

All around him the Mudders cheered. As he waited for the noise levels to die down before continuing, Chuck spotted Bobby move over to where Sam and Cas had appeared. All of them were looking around worriedly. Chuck momentarily forgot where he was and was about to head over but then another screeching cheer from the masses startled him back to reality. He glanced once more over to where his crew was gathering.


Sam and Bobby had been half listening to Chuck's speech as they all kept scanning the crowd. Castiel was perched like a hawk on one of the benches as he hunted the gathering for whatever was bothering him. His attention was solely focused on his own task, and left Chuck to complete his own.

Bobby huffed once Chuck had paused his speech, "Well, that wasn't half bad. I'd expect more from a planet famous author though."

Sam offered a weak grin, "I'm shocked myself. I thought he would have wet his pants and run off to the Impala by now." He had become increasingly worried as he scanned the crowds because he had yet to spot Dean. It could have been simply because the square was so full, but Sam had a sinking feeling that this wasn't the case.

That's when they all heard the gunfire.

The crowd suddenly parted like the red sea as a man walked forward with a gun held high and dragging a bloodied Dean behind him. The man moved right up to stand in front of Chuck a sick smile on his twisted features. The deadly intent in his eyes kept all others from stepping forward except for Sam, Bobby and Castiel as they rushed forward to where Dean was being held up.

The man noticed their approach and raised his pistol high, "Nah ah ah, stay right there you three or I'll send lead straight through his skull before you can even blink," he threatened. He received three murderous glares in return, but they didn't move any closer.

Abruptly the man turned to Chuck, "Hello there! I bet you don't recognize me. See, I used to look a lot different from this. Hell, you might even say I looked kind of handsome. But, eight years locked up changes a man. So I'll give you two hints as to who I am. I am the man whose life you ruined. And I'm the man whose going to ruin your life."

The laugh he let out after his introduction was a cackling mess that sent shivers down everyone's spines, but Chuck quickly realized who it was before him.

"Magistrate Lucas."

Lucas smiled, "That's right! I always knew you were a smart one. I thought it might be a nice reunion gift if you got to watch while I butchered one of your boys here," he roughly shook the barely conscious Dean to emphasize his presence.

Chuck almost panicked, but was able to stop himself before he started to plead for Dean's life. That would be what Lucas wanted. He had to be strong for once, "He isn't one of mine." He lied, somehow managing not to stutter.

Lucas looked amused, "Oh he isn't, huh? That's too bad." Obviously he didn't believe the lie, but he threw Dean off to the side without a second glance and moved up closer to Chuck.

The three crew members nearby dove down to where Dean was. Right away the Captain sought out Cas through his scrambled brain.

"Cas?" he choked out.

Castiel moved right into his line of vision and placed a hand on his forehead gently, "I'm here Dean. I'll fix you," he cooed, but Dean grabbed the hand away from his head and held it in his own bloody hand and made Cas meet his eyes.

"No. Cas, I have to apologize. The blood can wait. I'm so sorr—"

"Shh, shhh. Don't worry. Balthazar explained it to me. He said you were suffering from momentary idiocy and that you would be feeling better later," he whispered gently in his ear.

Cas smiled as Dean's tense posture melted until him and tried to remove his hand from Dean's to try healing him again only to feel Dean's grip tighten and his whole body tense again. Castiel glanced up to see Dean's focus returning to the standoff between Chuck and the snake Lucas. Castiel absently noticed that the echoing bursts that alerted him to danger had not ebbed in the least. The danger was still screaming around them.

Lucas had painted on a fake smile as he stood in front of Chuck talking casually like they were old friends catching up, "So, what's this about a "Hero of Canton?" Was I hearing that right? Eight years of lock-down plays tricks on the ear."

Chuck swallowed painfully, "I'm not a hero."

The friendly expression morphed into one of complete fury and contempt, burning a bright red as he spat back at Chuck, "Damn right you're not a hero! Because of you I was tossed in a cage for just being a good business man. I was doing what was right for the Garrison, make money for them and the company, and then these Mudders punish me for it! All because of you and your words!"

Becky pushed forward from the side, "You were about to send away hundreds of workers! They're way of living would be destroyed! Chuck gave us that back. He gave us the hope and the drive to say enough was enough, and we fought back for our way of life," she shouted.

"At the cost of what, little girl? How many of you died in those riots? How many of my men, who were only doing their job, died? Did Chuckie and his book here tell you about the cost of what you wanted? In his infinite wisdom, did he know what would happen to his beloved Mudders if they rebelled?"

Becky shrank back a little at that, as did many more of the Mudders as they thought back on those who had died. Lucas smiled a sickly satisfied smile, "He's more responsible for lost lives than I ever would have been, and yet I was the one you locked up."

Chuck had been listening to Lucas' words, letting each one pierce him. They were the same words that he had been saying to himself since he learned of the rebellion in his name. He had cried for hours in that graveyard as he read each of the names upon the stones. He didn't know whose names were those of Mudders or those of prods. He only knew that each name was of someone who had died because of his book.

Eyes red rimmed, Chuck looked up to face Lucas. His whole world seemed to stop and move through the next few seconds frame by frame, in mind numbing slow motion. He absently watched as the ex-Magistrate lifted his pistol and aimed it at him. Chuck spared a glance over to his crew. They wouldn't be able to get over to him in time, not that he expected or even wanted them to. He looked back at Lucas and watched his finger tighten over the trigger.

The worst part of the slowing of his world, he was then able to watch as a figure with blonde hair moved in between him and his sight of the gun and wasn't even able to react fast enough to realize what was happening until the gun let out a loud crack as a bullet was released. By the time the world moved back up to speed, he had already watched as Becky's body fell to the ground at his feet and lay still.

The scream of the crowd was possibly the loudest and most damning sound he had ever heard.


I'm going to go cry in a corner. Don't mind me.