You've probably noticed this by now, but I've tried to keep light on the actual therapy stuff. I have no experience or knowledge about psychology or the human mind, and I don't take this story seriously enough to research for it. So, don't take any of Chess' shrink-stuff to heart.

On another note, Happy Thanksgiving! Didja eat lots of turkey and stuffing and mashed 'taters and pie? 'Cause I did! And for those of you who don't live in America...Happy Thursday? You guys are missing out.

Mom's the Word

This was kind of awkward. And considering Chess was only yesterday giving advice to God and his sister on how to build trust between each other again, that was saying something. But he had gotten used to the all-powerful beings dropping by his home for a chat. He got dropped a line via dream-message and it looked like he'd be having a visit from an angel on Sunday. And dear god (the expression, not actually him) that was kind of normal now. Visited by angels? Must be a Sunday. Chatting with Lucifer? Definitely a Monday. Counseling sessions with God and his sister? Well, that's one way to spend his hump day. But this? This was weird.

For starters, there was the whole 'dead-for-33-years-and-now-back-to-life' thing. Both Sam and Dean have had their fair share of deaths and resurrections, but this was on a whole different level. 33 years! And that wasn't even the worst part.

Chess eyed the young woman before him with trepidation. Because the worst part was that she was younger than both her sons. Dean was 37. Sam, 33. And Mary? Mary was the exact age she was when she died: 29. Mary Winchester was 29 years old, and her youngest son was four years older than her. So, yes, Chess would very gladly take Lucifer over this. Because this was weird.

"So, um…" Chess looked around the room awkwardly. Mary had her hands clasped in front of her, looking just as uncomfortable. "So, you're having trouble adjusting?"

"Well," Mary started. "It's a little weird to be younger than your sons." She paused, then said, "It's, um...just, different, y'know? When I di- uh, left, Dean was four and Sam was just a baby. And now...I mean, I don't even know them." She sighed. "It's all a little too much," she admitted softly.

"Yeah, it's a learning experience for everyone," Chess told her. "I've seen some pretty weird stuff before. I can't really say that this takes the cake because, um- well, anyway, it's still a really odd situation." He decided against bringing up the teddy bear, as much as he wanted to. Mary had enough weirdness on her plate. "Sam and Dean- this is all very strange to them too. And I know it's gonna be hard. But no matter how old they are, they're still your sons. They love you, and you love them." Oh man, he was starting to sound like an old sap.

"I know, I know," she nodded, taking a deep breath. "I get that, I really do. It's just...the other day, Dean went off with that angel friend of theirs, Cas. Sam said they went to a bar. A bar! My four year old little boy went off to a bar." She looked so sad then, shoulders slumped in defeat. "I missed their entire lives," she whispered.

"This isn't going to be easy," Chess told her. "But you can do this." She didn't really look like she believed him, so he perked up a little and said, "How 'bout we work on something else while you're here?"

Mary looked up at him. "And what's that?"

"Technology," he answered, pulling out his phone. "I'm sure all the advances are confusing you, and I think learning how to use it all will help you adjust and cope better."

"I, um, I guess so." Mary looked dubious when Chess moved next to her on the couch and gave her his phone. "It's a galaxy s4," he informed her. "It's a bit of an old model, but that's fine."

"Sam gave me a phone," Mary told him. "It was an old one they had." She pulled it out of her pocket. It was ancient. It still flipped open. Had a full keyboard though, so that was good. It looked like they gave Mary the easiest, simplest cell they had.

"Those things are pretty old," Chess told her. He pressed the home button on his phone and the screen lit up. "See, now it's a just tap it." He demonstrated by sliding the unlock and tapping in his password. He left her to swipe through his apps while he went to get his laptop. He hoped the Winchesters didn't get mad at him for teaching their mom how to use the internet.

And hour later, Mary had a pretty good grasp on things. Chess was by no means a tech guy, but he showed her the basics and explained simple things that everyone took for granted these days. It seemed to be helping. Chess got her talking again about Sam and Dean while they worked, gently guiding her through the difficult process of getting to know her sons once more.

It was weird.

Once, several years back (and wow, he's known the Winchesters 7 years now), Chess had counseled a father and his daughter after having no contact for something like ten years. That was difficult; the girl had a lot of pent up rage towards her father, and the man just really wanted to get to know her. That was nothing alike to Chess' current situation with Mary. But it was the closest thing there was. Really though, there just really wasn't anything like having your dead mother come back to life after 33 years (and that was excluding the whole God and his sister part). So, yeah, this was really weird, and extremely difficult. Chess was really missing Lucifer by the end.

"Well, um, thanks for your help," Mary told him when their hour was up. "I know that this is all really...odd."

"Please, I was once a teddy bear doctor," Chess brushed off, though now he was thinking that this was actually weirder than the teddy bear. The fact that he found something weirder than the giant, talking, suicidal teddy bear really made him want a drink.

Shaking away uncomfortable memories, Chess asked, "Will you be back next week?"

"I'm not sure," Mary answered. "I'm not really comfortable with this...therapy stuff."

"Well, just think about it," he told her with a smile. Internally, he was weighing the odds of what Sam and Dean were paying him with if it was really worth it.

"I will," she promised. "Thanks again." And then she left. Chess went and got a drink from his kitchen. He called Jack over and vented to him over a glass of scotch, describing every supernatural thing that's happened to him since meeting the Winchesters. Damn, he really hated those boys.

-0-

"So, um...why are you here exactly?" Chess found himself asking. "You were kind of vague in the...dream message. Thing." Before him sat an angel. It was a little disconcerting, because all of Chess' experience with angels (Castiel and Lucifer) were at least adults. Or adult-looking. This guy looked like he should be in high school. College, at the most (though it was doubtful). He wore a ripped, AC/DC t-shirt, baggy jeans, a black jacket, and he even had a backpack with him. Chess assumed the kid (the actual kid the angel was using as a vessel) had it with him when he said yes. Chess was now wondering why teen-angst personified was saying yes to the voice in his head claiming to be an angel. And then he became concerned.

The angel (his name was Zadkiel) looked a little nervous. If Chess knew angels a bit better, he would know that they rarely showed emotion, and this meant that Zadkiel was actually a lot nervous. But Chess' only experiences were, again, with Castiel and Lucifer, who were kind of on opposite ends of the spectrum.

Anyway, Zadkiel was nervous. He stewed for a few moments before saying, "I have...questions." He said 'questions' as if he'd be sent right off to heaven jail just for uttering it. It actually sounded like he really meant something different, and Chess skimmed through his knowledge of angels until he landed on a word that could make them nervous: doubts. His suspicion was confirmed when Zadkiel spoke again. "Heaven has gone through a lot of changes in the last several years. And there's been so much turmoil and confusion, and-" His voice quieted. "-and a lot of deaths. And now, our father has returned- only to disappear again with the Darkness. But he told us something before we left. He told us to...well, essentially to think for ourselves a little. I wonder if he meant that we should be more like...Castiel." And that was whispered, Zadkiel leaning forward a bit as if it were a secret, eyes widened with fear. It was like Castiel was now the Voldemort of heaven, no one wanted to utter his name. This really made Chess question heaven, that they were more wary of Castiel than they were of Lucifer.

Listening to Zadkiel, Chess thought he wanted advice on how to 'think for himself.' It very quickly became clear, however, that the angel never intended such a thing. Actually, all he wanted was someone to talk to about his doubts. To help him get rid of them. Wow. Angels were dense.

"So let me get this straight," Chess said, leaning forward a bit with his hands out to outline his words. "All the top angels conspire to bring about the apocalypse, ensuring the end of days. After the apocalypse ends, they try to restart it, because...reasons. Then, it is discovered that an angel named Naomi is brainwashing you guys to make sure you stay in line. And you guys all hate Castiel, because he decided to protect your father's creation. And you still one hundred percent believe that heaven is always right." Chess was used to talking to Lucifer, who knew sarcasm. And also just basic common sense. Zadkiel, apparently, did not.

"Yes, that is correct," the angel told him. "How do I get rid of these doubts?" Hey, at least he was willing to use the 'D' word now! If all angels were like Zadkiel, then this was one screwed up family. Like, even more so than Chess already knew.

Chess went and grabbed a glass and the bottle of scotch before returning to an anxious looking Zadkiel. "Personally?" Chess replied while he poured himself a generous amount of alcohol into his glass. "I think the angels are seriously screwed up. And I mean that in the best way possible." That was true. The best way possible just happened to be not so great. "Seriously, just from talking to you, talking to Castiel, and talking to Lucifer, I can tell there's some major problems going on upstairs." Chess took a large gulp of his drink and winced as it burned down his throat. You really shouldn't gulp scotch. Especially when you're a lightweight like Chess was (though his recent influx of supernatural clients was quickly turning him into a regular at the bar he still worked at). "It's probably better than what it used to be, when the archangels were still trying to start the apocalypse, but still pretty messed up." Now, Chess would later blame the scotch for what he said next. Because, honestly, he should've known better. "It sounds like you all could use some therapy." And from that moment on, he was doomed.

Next up: Chess quits his day job