So, I really like this story so far. I figure I should tell you though, I don't have a Beta. So if anyone wants to get the new chapters before everyone else, pm me. I will put at least Chuck in the next chapter, if not both Chuck and Sarah.

I really don't own Chuck, although I wish I did.

Read and Review, I would really like to know what I am doing wrong. I kind of have an idea where I am going with this fic, but not really. Oh, and although all the characters are at least 17 years older than the season finale, I don't really see them as older, so they haven't really aged. Blame it on, the intersect.

Chap: 2

The three ladies sat in various seats in the private jet. Hannah sipped her Martini, letting it soothe her fragile nerves, Anna was driving her nuts. Sam looked over and smiled, well to be perfectly honest, it was more of a smirk. Then remembering something she involuntarily said," I have a confession to make. I can't go into the Buy More for the swap."

The two older women kind of jumped, for spies they were kind of jumpy, "Neither can I." They both responded. "Wait, What?" They looked at each other in shock.

"Well this could be interesting. Why? If I may be so bold. I'll tell if you do." Sam gave her largest grin batting her large blue eyes. Knowing that it would never have worked on her mother, but hoping that the two spies were not as attuned to Sam's tricks.

"I used to work there," They both said at the same time, making it kind of creepy. They turned and glared at each other.

"Ok, time to spill. Now I now you guys are both to smart and versatile. Because, to be working at the Burbank Buy-More, you have to be. So what's the story? Anna, you can go first. She smiled feeling like Indiana Jones, although she wasn't sure why. Then she laughed, remembering her cover name.

"Alright, around 21 years ago, give or take, I was a member of the Nerd Herd, in the Buy More. I had a good boyfriend, and a bunch of good, albeit weird friends. Then one day, out of the blue, I got a call from the NSA saying that they wanted me to work for them. They said that they had been given an anonymous tip that said I would be a good spy for field work. So they hired me, trained me, and let me work by myself for nineteen years, when they strapped me with babysitting you guys. That is the much abbreviated story."

Sam looked at Hannah, and nodded at her. She smiled nervously, "Wow, well I was an analyst for DRM, Direcectorate of Military Intelligence. I was basically a French spy. I was under a lot of stress, and they fired me. I flew to Paris, to empty out my desk, to get ready to move back to the USA, where I was raised. On the plane, I met this funny, sensitive guy, who offered me a job, at the Burbank Buy-More. I kind of like him, so I went to Burbank, and got a job. But one of the requirements of my green-card was that I would defect, and join the team of analysts, in the CIA. I never understood why I got to stay in Burbank, and I would input the strangest stuff." She laughed, "well enough about me, I want to know about, young Sam Jones, if that really is your last name, which I doubt."

Sam growled a little bit, a trademark that she had adopted from her uncle, Casey, "My name is Sam, and no, Jones is not my last name. It was just the first name that popped into my head when the agency asked me what I wanted my name to be. I grew up in Burbank, in a white house, with red trim. I have two brothers, and two sisters. Trust me, I know, it's a ton. When I was fifteen, I applied at Stanford University, my dad's Alma Mater, and Harvard, my mom's. I had finished high school the previous year. I got into both colleges, but since I was so young, my mom told me, that I could only go to Stanford, so they could visit on the weekends. I still attend Stanford. I was recruited by the CIA in my freshman year. I had beaten the crud out of one of the boys on the karate team. So I became a spy, but that is not really what you care about is it? No, you want to know why I can't go into the Burbank Buy-More. The short answer, my dad works there."

Both women's eyes met, suspecting who her father might be, but not saying anything. Anna, the unofficial group leader said, "Alright so we have to figure out how to get the package without anyone recognizing up. I got a plan." She smiled impishly.

Sam washed her hair with the temporary hair die, coloring it dark black, as opposed to her usual dark brown. She rinsed out the excess die, and turned off the water. She pulled back the blue curtain, and stepped into the room. She pulled out a purple dress, slipping it on, feeling the edge of the cloth against her knees. She did a high kick, and then slipped on a pair of shorts, pursing her lips a bit as she did so; a trait her mother said came from her aunt Ellie.

She looked into the mirror, hanging above the counter; she looked into her own blue eyes. Well those would have to go, they were too recognizable. She stuck green contact lenses into her eyes, knowing that the farther away from either parent's eyes she got, the better her disguise would be. She pulled, brushed and dried her, now black, hair. Sam twisted it into an elegant, everyday twist. She smiled at she applied makeup, making her lip a dark red, which she would normally have made pink. Feeling satisfied that her father would not recognize her she walked out of the bathroom.

Hannah stood in the middle of the room, looking uncomfortable in the lumpy house-wife disguise that she wore. Sam reached over and grabbed the black high-heels that lay on the chair in front of them. Anna walked in from the other room at just that moment. She had cut her hair short, and given herself highlights. Her make-up was lightly applied, to be almost unnoticeable, and she wore jeans, and a large baggy T-shirt, covered by a large hoodie that read, 'enter any 11-digit prime number to continue', in large block letters.

They sat and waited till the attendant said, "We will be landing at Bob Hope Airport in ten minutes. Please return to your seats, and fasten your seatbelts, and they did.