Author's Note: This is where some of the Supernatural stuff comes in. It is strictly AU for season 5.

Sioux Falls, South Dakota is exactly like Chuck pictured it would be.

Small, and a little rustic, but not too outside of the rest of the world.

It has a sheriff, one that hangs out in the one local diner.

"Excuse me," he says across the counter after swallowing his eggs down. "Excuse me, hi." He waves to the sheriff, and she looks at him like he's nuts.

"Can I help you with something?" she asks, tilting her head.

"Uhm...hi. Yes. Hi. I...uh...I'm looking the Singer's place."

Her eyebrows raise higher. "Bobby Singer? The crazy old man that lives outside of town?"

"Outside of town, interesting, and...and which way outside of town would that be?"

"Look, you seem alright," she says. "So let me give you a piece of advice: leave that crackpot alone."

Chuck takes a deep breath and gets to his feet, leaving a tip for his waitress. "Y'know that's okay. I've got GPS on my phone. He owns a salvage place, right? I can find it myself. Thanks."

It's not hard to find Singer Salvage; the big rusty sign gives it away.

When he parks the car he takes a moment to look around. It honestly looks like a haunted house. What was once clearly a beautiful home is now covered in dirt and dust. Chuck wonders how long it's looked like this; if Sarah grew up with it looking like this and the thought makes his heart ache for her.

The screen door squeals as he pulls it open, and knocks on the old wooden door. He clears his throat and squares his shoulders. He's not certain what to expect, but he figures coming out of the gate looking like someone who knows what they're doing would be a good thing.

Slowly, the door opens, revealing a short man with graying brown hair under an old trucker cap. He's wearing a plaid shirt and jeans, and he looks utterly and completely confused at Chuck's presence.

"Uh...yeah?"

And of course he flashes. Robert Singer. Bobby to his friends. Demon hunter with a record as long as Chuck's impressively long legs.

Chuck clears his throat, pulling himself together and gets his CIA badge out. "Agent Charles Carmichael. I'm looking for Sarah Walker."

The older man gives him an eye roll and slams the door in his face.

Chuck stands there, staring for a good long moment.

Okay.

Alright.

That went badly.

He puts the badge away clumsily and knocks on the door again. "Mr. Singer? Mr. Singer please open the door, I really do need to talk to you. Please?"

The door reopens and there's Mr. Singer holding a shotgun.

Chuck immediately takes a step back. "Oh! Oh! Okay! You...you are armed, sir. You are...Okay. Let's all just..."

"What do you want with Sarah Walker?"

He opens his mouth and closes it again. He's not sure how to respond.

"Well?"

"Mostly I'd like to give her a hug," he blurts out without thinking, and then mentally kicks himself.

The gun lowers, and Mr. Singer narrows his eyes in confusion. "The hell?"

Chuck feels his ears warm as they turn red and he looks down. "That was...that was not exactly what I hoped would come out of my mouth just then."

The inside of the house is cluttered with old books and empty bottles. It's a dim place, even in mid-day. The kitchen, like the living room off of the front door seems to be more for work and research than eating. There's a group of telephones on the far wall, labeled with strips of masking tape, with words like "police" and "FBI" scribbled neatly on each. The computer that looks older than Chuck himself is what interests him most. He loves oldies like that, and he can't wait to make friends with this man so he can play with it and upgrade it.

Bobby hands him a beer and Chuck fiddles with it.

"I shouldn't really drink. I tend to make poor life choices when I drink."

"One beer won't kill ya," Bobby grumbles, sipping his own.

Chuck realizes that Bobby's watching him suspiciously, and so he takes a sip of the beer, swallowing hard.

"So you're the boyfriend."

"Well...I was. I guess it's debatable whether or not that's still true at this point," Chuck admits. "But I think...I think she sent me something. I mean I think she did, I can't...I don't know of anybody else who would send it."

Bobby sits down across from him. "What'd she send ya?"

Chuck digs into his pocket and pulls out the napkin, which he hands over.

The older man looks it over, and then looks at Chuck. "Kid. This is a napkin."

"From a coffee shop we once went to in Switzerland on a...a relatively romantic few days."

Bobby takes a deep breath and another swig of his beer, handing the napkin back. "She's been under deep cover for over a year. You know that. Chances are, she's just feelin' sentimental..."

Chuck shakes his head. "You probably know her better than I do. Does it sound like Sarah to send something like this unless something was going on?"

There's silence, and Bobby grimaces.

"She never was one for the mushy stuff."

Silence fills the kitchen as the two men look at each other. For the first time, it really hits Chuck; really dawns on him that there's something wrong. Something is going on, and Sarah's probably in a lot of trouble.

"Help me find her," Chuck says. "Please."

Bobby takes yet another chug from his bottle and puts it down. He gets up and turns on his computer, waiting waiting waiting for it to come to life.

"486's are pains," Chuck commiserates.

"Huh?"

"Your computer," Chuck tells him. "It's an IBM 486 and it's slow, because it's old, and the technology is ancient."

"Watch your mouth."

"Sorry."

They wait a little longer and the computer comes to life. They wait some more for the email program to load up and Bobby clicks on a message that says "Hello from!" in the subject heading.

Chuck squints. "'Weather is beautiful, wish you were here. L'amour Sarah'- L'amour? L'a-" Chuck stops. "The napkin. The napkin and the email and I am such a jack-ass she's in Paris! How long ago did she send this?"

Bobby stares him like he's nuts. "Bout two weeks ago."

Chuck nods and grabs his stuff; his jacket and the napkin. "I have to...I have to go I have to go to Paris she's...she was or still is in Paris!" He heads for the door, and stumbles out, just in time to bump into someone on the lawn.

"Wh...Bryce?" Chuck asks, shocked and confused.

Bryce smiles in a way he's never seen before; malicious. Bloodthirsty. Like he would love nothing more than to tear both Chuck and Bobby limb from limb.

"Howdy, boys."

Chuck narrows his eyes and flashes. The images are intense; terrifying, like something out of a horror movie. Bodies bathed in blood, and screaming. So much screaming. When the flash ends, he realizes that Bryce isn't really Bryce at this point in time, especially not with those inky-black eyes.

"Oh balls," Bobby growls. "Chuck. Chuck, get in the damn house."

"But-"

"Chuck!"

"So you're Chuck," Bryce (Bizarro Bryce, Chuck thinks. Possessed Bryce) says pleasantly surprised. "Just the nerd I was looking for."

It happens fast. Bobby yells obscenities and a name (Meg?), and a thick black smoke pours violently from Bryce's mouth.

He sees Bryce hit the ground in a heap just as the smoke forces itself past his own lips.

He tastes bile before his brain goes into overdrive. He flashes again, hard, on whatever's forced its way inside him, and it feels like getting electrocuted.

After that, things go black.

"Charles...Charles. Chuck. Son, wake up."

His eyes open and start to focus. The room is white and familiar and the man standing above him is supposed to be dead.

"Dad...?"

Stephen Bartowski gives him a regretful grin. "In a way."

Chuck sits up and looks around. "This...this is the Intersect room."

"Actually no," Stephen says, gripping Chuck's hand and helping him to his feet. "This is the Intersect. The one in your head."

Chuck's eyes widen as he stares at his father.

"I'm a construct. The embodiment of the Intersect itself."

"So...we're in my head?"

"Yes. Yes we are."

"No offense, Dad, but...but I always hoped the Intersect would look like Sarah."

"Hey, don't look at me," Stephen shrugs. "It's your brain."

Chuck frowns again. "What happened to me?"

Stephen dashes over to the computer in the center of the room. "You were possessed by a demon."

Chuck swallows hard. "Oh. Oh, that...that black smoke that came out of Bryce's mouth...that...they taught me that before I joined UNIT..."

"A demon."

"That can't be good."

"You're lucky," Stephen says, typing away. "You instinctively flashed once it happened. Flashing internally on what was in side you integrated everything the demon knew into the Intersect. Shocked it so bad it had to leave your body, but it also shocked you. Short-circuited your brain a little."

"Short...are you saying I'm a vegetable?" Chuck cries, panicked. He rushes over to Stephen and the computer.

"Temporarily," Stephen tells him. "I just have to give you a system reboot. By accessing your Governor."

"But...but but- I'm gonna be fine right? I'm not gonna be brain damaged or anything."

"No, no brain damage. You might wanna take it easy for a few hours though."

Chuck shakes his head. "I can't I can't I have to find Sarah. She's missing, Dad."

"I know."

"Does...the...does the Intersect know where she is?"

"It's your head," Stephen reminds him again. "Find out."

Chuck walks over to a wall; stark white just like the room where he'd taken in the 2.0. He concentrates hard on Sarah and on all the information he's learned about her.

It comes surprisingly easily.

A motel in Michigan.

He frowns. "Michigan. Michigan? Really?"

He keeps digging, clumsily sifting through computer files in his own mind.

"Paris was a fake," Chuck mutters. "Whatever's going on, she's trying to keep me away."

"Well, that means you've got two choices, Charles," his father says.

Chuck grimaces.

When he comes too, Bobby and Bryce's faces swim in to focus.

"Chuck? Buddy?" Bryce grips his shoulder and Chuck can feel the worry in his hand.

"Michigan," Chuck mutters. He sits up. "Haveta go to Michigan."

"Whoa, whoa...you're not going anywhere," Bryce says.

"Sarah..." He looks at Bryce with wide eyes. "Sarah's in Michigan."

Bryce frowns, his brow furrowing. "No, she's not. Sarah's in Paris."

Bobby sighs behind them. "Balls..."

Bryce looks back at the older man and then at Chuck. "Michigan?"

"Damn Meg," Bobby grumbles. "Yeah. Sarah's in Michigan. Meg possessed you probably to take you there. Screw with her head, throw her off her game. What the hell happened? How'd you shake her off like that?"

Chuck scratches the back of his head. "Mind over matter?"

They get escorted (read: kicked) out of Bobby's house with anti-possession charms as parting gifts, and Chuck shoves Bryce.

"You knew she was in Paris?"

Bryce stumbles. "She wasn't in Paris! She lied to me too!"

Chuck's hands start shaking and he tries to make them stop but to no avail.

Bryce approaches him slowly, his hands raised. "It's okay, Chuck. You know where she is now. You can find her."

"She doesn't want me to," Chuck stammers. "She lied to keep everyone away. No wonder Beckman was so pissed at me for asking questions, she probably doesn't even know where Sarah is."

They stare at each other for a long moment and Bryce takes him by the shoulders again.

"Go find her, Chuck. Even if it's just to say goodbye. Go find her."