Dark Shadows - Metaphysical Gravity - Ch. 3 - Chuck Shurley, Blood Donor
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“Jesus, Chuck. You look like you need a doctor.”
Chuck doesn’t look up. He can’t. He won’t. There’s no way he can face Dean Winchester anymore. Chuck wouldn’t even be at the pub except he can’t stand to be alone. Waiting.
Waiting for Castiel to call him.
To summon him.
It’s been three days since he released Castiel from his tomb and his imprisonment. Three days and nine feedings and Chuck can’t say no. He really can’t. And the worst part, the most horrible part, is when the summons comes, when he feels Castiel pulling at his brain and calling Chuck to him, Chuck doesn’t want to say no.
It’s only now, in between feedings that Chuck feels. Fear, disgust, terror, horror. It all comes slamming back into his body with visceral force. During the feedings it’s like being in a warm bath. Safe, soothing, with all tactile input muffled and sedate. Like the last few seconds of consciousness before you drift asleep.
He doesn’t even hear the sucking sounds that he knows Castiel must make. It’s like Chuck goes to a little corner of his own mind and watches it all with curious detachment. Until it’s over.
And when it’s over, after Castiel has licked the traces of blood from his own lips and has carefully placed a bandage over Chuck’s wounds (wrist, inner elbow, clavicle, but surprisingly not the neck, never the neck) for a brief moment, Chuck is frantic with need. He’s frantic for Castiel to let him stay, to let Chuck sit next to him, curl into the warmth and the strength. Chuck wants to lay at Castiel’s feet and soak up the aura that Castiel seems to generate. Castiel will look at him fondly and say something soothing. After the last feeding, he actually petted Chuck’s hair and Chuck had preened with the contact.
“You’ve been gracious, Charles. It is appreciated.”
Chuck wanted to weep at the words of praise.
But now, three hours later, sitting at Dean Winchester’s pub, Chuck is horrified. He’s sick with it. It’s all coming together in his mind, the nightmares, Castiel, Dean… and Chuck feels trapped in the maelstrom of it. Castiel is the vampire Chuck has been dreaming about, writing about. The vampire that comes to Collinsport, the conflicted vampire, the vampire that finds the reincarnation of his lover.
Who happens to be Dean Winchester.
Chuck swears to God he didn’t know it was Dean Winchester. He never sees the faces of the people in his dreams and even if he had it’s not like he would have ever thought it was real. Jesus. He knows Dean. Not like they’re friends or anything, but Chuck has been going to Dean’s pub since Chuck moved to Collinsport five years ago. Dean grew up in this town. Everyone knows Dean. When his mom died in a house fire leaving a grieving John Winchester with two little boys to raise, Collinsport stepped in to help. How could they not when everyone and their dog remembers little Dean standing on the front lawn holding his brother Sam, watching his house burn down with wide, glassy four year old eyes, knowing his mommy was inside and they couldn’t get her out?
Dean and Sam are town fixtures. In the summer, you can see Dean outside every weekend when the weather is nice washing the Impala. Dean and Sam’s house is the best house to get Halloween candy because everyone knows the Winchester boys are free and loose with the chocolate. Sam does the best job putting up Christmas lights, getting to the very top of the trees with his impossibly long arms. During the off season, when the tourists aren’t invading Collinsport like some kind of walking plague, Dean’s pub is quiet and Dean sometimes moonlights at the local garage. If at all possible, people wait until they see him there before swinging by with the weird ‘ka-thunk-a-thunk-a” their car is making. Everyone remembers how proud Dean was when Sam went off to school to become a doctor. Dean talked about him all the time. It’s pretty much common knowledge Sam will run the hospital in a few years. He’s the best doctor they have, even if he is the youngest.
Every mother and daughter has had her sights set on one of the Winchesters at one time or another. Even John Winchester wasn’t immune before he died suddenly of a heart attack four years prior. It doesn’t help that Dean flirts with anything that has legs. And Sam is too kind to not spend a moment responding to anyone who addresses him.
But strangely enough, they’re both single and that’s the way it’s been for a while. There was talk that Sam had a girl when he was in med-school, but she wasn’t interested in coming back to a small town like Collinsport, and Sam wouldn’t dream of being anywhere Dean wasn’t, not permanently. As for Dean, he flirts, he dates, but it never turns into anything serious, and he somehow manages to still be friendly with anyone he’s stepped out with. He doesn’t make promises he can’t keep. That’s true for the pub, the garage, and for his personal life as well.
So yeah, Collinsport loves Dean Winchester and Dean Winchester loves Collinsport,which is why Chuck still doesn’t want to believe it’s real. But the bandages on his wrist are real. The puncture wounds on his skin are real. The fatigue and dizziness from loss of blood are real.
The fact that Castiel Collins will pursue Dean Winchester is real.
As far as Chuck can tell, Castiel hasn’t ‘learned’ about Dean Winchester yet. Chuck’s not sure how it works, but he understands that Castiel is gaining knowledge every time he… feeds. While it’s horrifically interesting and Chuck does kind of have a morbid fascination with it, there is no way he’s asking Castiel how exactly he processes information from Chuck.
Chuck also doesn’t think Castiel knows about the dreams, at least not yet. Chuck doesn’t know how he can not find out about them. It’s not like Chuck has any control over what Castiel learns or what he doesn’t. And when Castiel is… drinking, in those moments, Chuck would answer any question, volunteer any information, would make any promises asked for. He’s already made some.
He’s terrified by that.
As of this moment, Castiel Collins has yet to learn from Chuck’s mind that Dean Winchester is the exact, mirror image of the vampire’s former love. Chuck can’t tell Dean. Chuck can’t tell anyone anything. Castiel made him promise. It wasn’t some kind of girly pinky swear either. Castiel twined his hands around both of Chuck’s wrists and held Chuck’s blue eyes with his own. Chuck couldn’t move, couldn’t turn away, couldn’t blink. He didn’t want to. Castiel leaned in and said, “No one must know I am here until I tell them.”
Chuck nodded fiercely. Of course. Whatever Castiel wanted, Chuck wanted to give him. It seemed absurd in the moment that Chuck would say anything about Castiel to anyone.
“You will not tell anyone about what I am.”
“Of course not,” Chuck stammered.
“Swear a vow of fealty and obedience.”
“Uh…” Because really, how the hell did one do that. “I swear?” Chuck squeaked.
Castiel smiled. Chuck felt like an awkward student who had made his teacher proud.
Now, a short three hours after the last feeding, Chuck can’t believe he said those words. He can’t believe how sure he was when he said them, how certain he felt. He’s opened his mouth and shut it several times, about to tell Dean everything, but when he does… it’s like there’s a squeeze on his lungs. It’s not a painful pressure, but he can’t speak through it. Trying to avoid Dean Winchester’s concerned gaze, Chuck feels sick.
“Chuck, seriously dude, I think you need a doctor or somethin’.”
“I’m fine. I just… It’s been really stressful day.”
“You look like shit.” Dean leans in closer, his voice low so no one can hear. “Is it the money? If it is, I can call Sam. He’ll check you out, no charge.”
Chuck can’t look up at Dean, he stays hunched over the bar, cradling his pint. “You gotta stop being nice to me.”
“Are you in some kind of trouble?”
Chuck huffs dryly. “You don’t even know the half of it,” he mutters, swilling down a large gulp of ale.
“Do you need some help?”
Chuck finally looks up and catches Dean boring holes into him with his bright green eyes.
“You barely know me. Why would you help me?”
“C’mon, I know you well enough. You come in here three, four times a week. You never cause any trouble. Sure sometimes I gotta take your keys, but you never put up a fight, you just hand ‘em over. You’re some kind of writer. An artist type. Like Anna Collins. ”
Chuck shakes his head mutely and has to look away. When Castiel finds out about Dean, Chuck knows exactly where it will lead. He’s already written every word of it. Every graphic word of it.
Considering that what Chuck knows about two men being together, it’s pretty well written, actually. But he can’t keep sitting here talking to Dean like he doesn’t know exactly what will transpire between Dean and Castiel. It’s wrong. It’s weird. It’s…
Well, it’s kinda hot if he’s honest with himself. In a totally non-homoerotic way, of course, because Chuck Shurley is a ladies guy. And he’s not going there. At all. Even if Dean is really very attractive. As is Castiel. As is the mental image of the two of them together…
He chugs his beer and slams the empty mug down on the counter. He shakes his head again.
“I’m fine,” he stammers. “Totally fine. Just some… stuff. But it’s fine. It’ll be fine.”
He can see Dean out of the corner of his eye drumming his thumb on the marble countertop.
“Okay, then,” says Dean, although it’s clear by his tone he doesn’t believe Chuck. “You change your mind, you know where I am. And if you do wanna see a doc, I know Sam will check you out.”
“I’m good.” He sneaks a glance up and catches Dean’s eye. “Really. Just stress.”
Chuck feels it then. The pull. The slight tingle and pressure on his brain that means Castiel is calling him. He nearly knocks his stool over in his rush to stand up.
“Whoa,” says Dean coming around the bar to help Chuck.
“No, it’s fine, I’m fine,” Chuck blurts, holding his hands out in front of him. Dean picks the stool up and sets it right as Chuck fumbles in his pocket for his wallet.
“Naw, it’s cool, Chuck. On the house.”
It makes Chuck feel worse instead of better and he wants to say something. Something like ‘thank you’ but the pull on his brain is getting stronger and he has to go.
“You really gotta stop being so nice to me.”
He stumbles out of the pub, leaving Dean staring after him with a confused look.
“Twitchy guy.”
Next chapter - 4 - Old Things More Beautiful Than Things Brand New
“Jesus, Chuck. You look like you need a doctor.”
Chuck doesn’t look up. He can’t. He won’t. There’s no way he can face Dean Winchester anymore. Chuck wouldn’t even be at the pub except he can’t stand to be alone. Waiting.
Waiting for Castiel to call him.
To summon him.
It’s been three days since he released Castiel from his tomb and his imprisonment. Three days and nine feedings and Chuck can’t say no. He really can’t. And the worst part, the most horrible part, is when the summons comes, when he feels Castiel pulling at his brain and calling Chuck to him, Chuck doesn’t want to say no.
It’s only now, in between feedings that Chuck feels. Fear, disgust, terror, horror. It all comes slamming back into his body with visceral force. During the feedings it’s like being in a warm bath. Safe, soothing, with all tactile input muffled and sedate. Like the last few seconds of consciousness before you drift asleep.
He doesn’t even hear the sucking sounds that he knows Castiel must make. It’s like Chuck goes to a little corner of his own mind and watches it all with curious detachment. Until it’s over.
And when it’s over, after Castiel has licked the traces of blood from his own lips and has carefully placed a bandage over Chuck’s wounds (wrist, inner elbow, clavicle, but surprisingly not the neck, never the neck) for a brief moment, Chuck is frantic with need. He’s frantic for Castiel to let him stay, to let Chuck sit next to him, curl into the warmth and the strength. Chuck wants to lay at Castiel’s feet and soak up the aura that Castiel seems to generate. Castiel will look at him fondly and say something soothing. After the last feeding, he actually petted Chuck’s hair and Chuck had preened with the contact.
“You’ve been gracious, Charles. It is appreciated.”
Chuck wanted to weep at the words of praise.
But now, three hours later, sitting at Dean Winchester’s pub, Chuck is horrified. He’s sick with it. It’s all coming together in his mind, the nightmares, Castiel, Dean… and Chuck feels trapped in the maelstrom of it. Castiel is the vampire Chuck has been dreaming about, writing about. The vampire that comes to Collinsport, the conflicted vampire, the vampire that finds the reincarnation of his lover.
Who happens to be Dean Winchester.
Chuck swears to God he didn’t know it was Dean Winchester. He never sees the faces of the people in his dreams and even if he had it’s not like he would have ever thought it was real. Jesus. He knows Dean. Not like they’re friends or anything, but Chuck has been going to Dean’s pub since Chuck moved to Collinsport five years ago. Dean grew up in this town. Everyone knows Dean. When his mom died in a house fire leaving a grieving John Winchester with two little boys to raise, Collinsport stepped in to help. How could they not when everyone and their dog remembers little Dean standing on the front lawn holding his brother Sam, watching his house burn down with wide, glassy four year old eyes, knowing his mommy was inside and they couldn’t get her out?
Dean and Sam are town fixtures. In the summer, you can see Dean outside every weekend when the weather is nice washing the Impala. Dean and Sam’s house is the best house to get Halloween candy because everyone knows the Winchester boys are free and loose with the chocolate. Sam does the best job putting up Christmas lights, getting to the very top of the trees with his impossibly long arms. During the off season, when the tourists aren’t invading Collinsport like some kind of walking plague, Dean’s pub is quiet and Dean sometimes moonlights at the local garage. If at all possible, people wait until they see him there before swinging by with the weird ‘ka-thunk-a-thunk-a” their car is making. Everyone remembers how proud Dean was when Sam went off to school to become a doctor. Dean talked about him all the time. It’s pretty much common knowledge Sam will run the hospital in a few years. He’s the best doctor they have, even if he is the youngest.
Every mother and daughter has had her sights set on one of the Winchesters at one time or another. Even John Winchester wasn’t immune before he died suddenly of a heart attack four years prior. It doesn’t help that Dean flirts with anything that has legs. And Sam is too kind to not spend a moment responding to anyone who addresses him.
But strangely enough, they’re both single and that’s the way it’s been for a while. There was talk that Sam had a girl when he was in med-school, but she wasn’t interested in coming back to a small town like Collinsport, and Sam wouldn’t dream of being anywhere Dean wasn’t, not permanently. As for Dean, he flirts, he dates, but it never turns into anything serious, and he somehow manages to still be friendly with anyone he’s stepped out with. He doesn’t make promises he can’t keep. That’s true for the pub, the garage, and for his personal life as well.
So yeah, Collinsport loves Dean Winchester and Dean Winchester loves Collinsport,which is why Chuck still doesn’t want to believe it’s real. But the bandages on his wrist are real. The puncture wounds on his skin are real. The fatigue and dizziness from loss of blood are real.
The fact that Castiel Collins will pursue Dean Winchester is real.
As far as Chuck can tell, Castiel hasn’t ‘learned’ about Dean Winchester yet. Chuck’s not sure how it works, but he understands that Castiel is gaining knowledge every time he… feeds. While it’s horrifically interesting and Chuck does kind of have a morbid fascination with it, there is no way he’s asking Castiel how exactly he processes information from Chuck.
Chuck also doesn’t think Castiel knows about the dreams, at least not yet. Chuck doesn’t know how he can not find out about them. It’s not like Chuck has any control over what Castiel learns or what he doesn’t. And when Castiel is… drinking, in those moments, Chuck would answer any question, volunteer any information, would make any promises asked for. He’s already made some.
He’s terrified by that.
As of this moment, Castiel Collins has yet to learn from Chuck’s mind that Dean Winchester is the exact, mirror image of the vampire’s former love. Chuck can’t tell Dean. Chuck can’t tell anyone anything. Castiel made him promise. It wasn’t some kind of girly pinky swear either. Castiel twined his hands around both of Chuck’s wrists and held Chuck’s blue eyes with his own. Chuck couldn’t move, couldn’t turn away, couldn’t blink. He didn’t want to. Castiel leaned in and said, “No one must know I am here until I tell them.”
Chuck nodded fiercely. Of course. Whatever Castiel wanted, Chuck wanted to give him. It seemed absurd in the moment that Chuck would say anything about Castiel to anyone.
“You will not tell anyone about what I am.”
“Of course not,” Chuck stammered.
“Swear a vow of fealty and obedience.”
“Uh…” Because really, how the hell did one do that. “I swear?” Chuck squeaked.
Castiel smiled. Chuck felt like an awkward student who had made his teacher proud.
Now, a short three hours after the last feeding, Chuck can’t believe he said those words. He can’t believe how sure he was when he said them, how certain he felt. He’s opened his mouth and shut it several times, about to tell Dean everything, but when he does… it’s like there’s a squeeze on his lungs. It’s not a painful pressure, but he can’t speak through it. Trying to avoid Dean Winchester’s concerned gaze, Chuck feels sick.
“Chuck, seriously dude, I think you need a doctor or somethin’.”
“I’m fine. I just… It’s been really stressful day.”
“You look like shit.” Dean leans in closer, his voice low so no one can hear. “Is it the money? If it is, I can call Sam. He’ll check you out, no charge.”
Chuck can’t look up at Dean, he stays hunched over the bar, cradling his pint. “You gotta stop being nice to me.”
“Are you in some kind of trouble?”
Chuck huffs dryly. “You don’t even know the half of it,” he mutters, swilling down a large gulp of ale.
“Do you need some help?”
Chuck finally looks up and catches Dean boring holes into him with his bright green eyes.
“You barely know me. Why would you help me?”
“C’mon, I know you well enough. You come in here three, four times a week. You never cause any trouble. Sure sometimes I gotta take your keys, but you never put up a fight, you just hand ‘em over. You’re some kind of writer. An artist type. Like Anna Collins. ”
Chuck shakes his head mutely and has to look away. When Castiel finds out about Dean, Chuck knows exactly where it will lead. He’s already written every word of it. Every graphic word of it.
Considering that what Chuck knows about two men being together, it’s pretty well written, actually. But he can’t keep sitting here talking to Dean like he doesn’t know exactly what will transpire between Dean and Castiel. It’s wrong. It’s weird. It’s…
Well, it’s kinda hot if he’s honest with himself. In a totally non-homoerotic way, of course, because Chuck Shurley is a ladies guy. And he’s not going there. At all. Even if Dean is really very attractive. As is Castiel. As is the mental image of the two of them together…
He chugs his beer and slams the empty mug down on the counter. He shakes his head again.
“I’m fine,” he stammers. “Totally fine. Just some… stuff. But it’s fine. It’ll be fine.”
He can see Dean out of the corner of his eye drumming his thumb on the marble countertop.
“Okay, then,” says Dean, although it’s clear by his tone he doesn’t believe Chuck. “You change your mind, you know where I am. And if you do wanna see a doc, I know Sam will check you out.”
“I’m good.” He sneaks a glance up and catches Dean’s eye. “Really. Just stress.”
Chuck feels it then. The pull. The slight tingle and pressure on his brain that means Castiel is calling him. He nearly knocks his stool over in his rush to stand up.
“Whoa,” says Dean coming around the bar to help Chuck.
“No, it’s fine, I’m fine,” Chuck blurts, holding his hands out in front of him. Dean picks the stool up and sets it right as Chuck fumbles in his pocket for his wallet.
“Naw, it’s cool, Chuck. On the house.”
It makes Chuck feel worse instead of better and he wants to say something. Something like ‘thank you’ but the pull on his brain is getting stronger and he has to go.
“You really gotta stop being so nice to me.”
He stumbles out of the pub, leaving Dean staring after him with a confused look.
“Twitchy guy.”
Next chapter - 4 - Old Things More Beautiful Than Things Brand New