kore_logs | 'listen to the warning' the prophet he said

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'listen to the warning' the prophet he said

Who: Chuck Shurley and OPEN.
What: There's only one way forward, and this is it.
When: Day 121.
Where: The tunnels.
Notes: No, really, this is wide open. I made very little OOC plans so come at me.

Raphael had come by earlier and said he would actually bodily drag Chuck into the tunnels if he didn't go willingly. But it didn't seem like he had an option either way. Earthquakes kept shifting below his feet -- it seemed to be tearing the entire cape apart. He had no doubt that, if he stayed, he wouldn't be alive to see whatever happened to the little town where they were held captive.

Chuck spends most of the time trying to decide what to take with him. Specifically, his typewriter. Balthazar had gotten it for him, and he'd used it well. It seemed like a shame to leave it behind. But, on the other hand, it wasn't exactly lucrative to go about dragging a typewriter through a series of tunnels who knows how long. He reluctantly leaves it behind.

He enters the tunnels alone and is glad he did. The effect is so instantaneous and so sudden he nearly trips over himself. Because, while he might not use all the omniscient and omnipotent powers he has at his disposal, he's always aware that it's there, hiding underneath his fingertips. But now, in these tunnels, it's gone. Vanished. Disappeared. He's honestly nothing more than the human he pretends to be.

It's an uncomfortable reminder of the amount of power this place -- these scientists -- hold over him, and it's not one he appreciates. He's never felt truly powerless, literally and figuratively, before, and he does not approve of these feelings in himself whatsoever.

But there's no place to go but forward. And so forward into the tunnels he goes.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

At some point along the way, Meg has gotten separated from her fluffy little nerd angel and her two favourite Winchesters. No biggie. Sure, she's stuck down here with Crowley and a bunch of pissed angels, but from what she can gather they're just as powerless down here as she is - so unless they're all going to try poking each other with angel blades in the dark she's pretty sure angels and demons are the least of her worries and the tunnel collapsing and suffocating her currently hard working lungs is much more likely.

"I'm surprised your angelic bodyguards aren't keeping you on a tigher leash."

There's a lot of nothing in the tunnels. There's nothing but the echoing sounds of his own footsteps, not a lot of light, and he's yet to come across anyone. He's beginning to think the tunnels might actually be a maze, because he's been walking for a long while and he doesn't feel like he's made any progress whatsoever.

This is, of course, where his omniscience would be very useful, but he doesn't possess that power at the present moment, and is left with nothing but his own sense of direction. Which, he hopes, is greater than his own spatial awareness because, when Meg speaks from behind him, give gives a little gasp, spinning around, caught completely off guard.

"What? No, I--I mean, they probably have other things to worry about. You know, with, uh, Michael and Lucifer both showing up and all."

Chuck, please don't pee your pants down here, who knows how long it'll be before they can get clean laundry - if ever, and that smell in a confined space will linger and destroy the already crappy air.

"I was under the impression all the angels had their wings clipped down here - even big bad Michael and Lucifer. Maybe on the other side we'll find another cage we can throw them in and watch them tear each other apart archangel cock fights - a girl needs a little entertainment." The fact she is terrified of them both has nothing to do with wanting them locked up. No. Nosiree. Okay. She's terrified of running into them once they're juiced up.

"You need me to hold your hand while your feathery caretakers are missing?"

"No, I mean, they do, but..." Well, he's assuming they do, anyways. He hasn't run into either one of them down here just yet, but if he's lost his powers, it's likely safe to say the archangels have too.

"...they're still Michael and Lucifer, you know?" He's under no impressions that he could take down an archangel, even a powerless one. And really, they probably angry without their powers. He wouldn't want to run into either one, even now.

"No, no, I can take care of myself." Yeah, Meg. He got rid of a ghost with a microphone stand, once. And he found half a dead body and he didn't even throw up. He can totally take care of himself.

Even powerless archangels are pretty terrifying as far as Meg is concerned. In fact she'd be more than happy if all the angels up and left - apart from Cas, obviously, and maybe Balthazar. Then again, she'd gladly get rid of Crowley while she's at it too. Come on, the place would be much more peaceful and people would be less worried about getting stabbed.

Meg rolls her eyes. "You can take care of yourself? Really? And here I thought you were a helpless little puppy dog..." She inches closer, crowding in on Chuck's personal space.

Not all the angels were bad. Samandriel wasn't terrifying. Balthazar was surprisingly nice. Anna had been sweet, before she left. Castiel was always polite.

But Michael? Lucifer? Zachariah?

Really, Chuck's just hoping the Cape isn't going to become Apocalypse 2.0. Especially after the first one had just been averted.

Meg moves closer and Chuck leans back. Dean might have vouched for her, but that doesn't make him any less wary about being around a demon.

"What? No, no, of course I can take care of myself. Just because I'm not a Winchester doesn't mean I'm not... you know, incompetent or anything."

Balthazar really is nice - in all the right ways. And his meatsuit is all kinds of pretty. And don't get Meg started on Cas. No, seriously. There are feelings there that shouldn't ever exist in a demon. It's kind of gross and sappy.

The others though? Nope. No. Meg wants no part of that.

Aw, Chuck. Don't be wary. Don't you trust Dean's word? Well, he is a Winchester and they tend to be fabulous at screwing up. So maybe it's wise to be wary. But it hurts her precious little feelings. Meg leans in further, resting her hands on the side of the tunnel either side of his head. "Oh?"

With a smirk, she presses her lips to his.

Chuck does trust the word of the Winchesters. They stopped the Apocalypse, they saved people, they hunted things. The Winchesters were good people and of course Chuck trusts them.

But trusting a demon? Putting trust into a Lucifer loyal demon while he was all alone in a tunnel?

Yeah, that doesn't sound like one of his better plans. Of course, he wasn't expecting this.

"Wha--" is all he gets out before Meg kisses him and Chuck just... instantly blue screen on deaths, please press any key to continue.

Does... does he kiss her back? He had broken up with Becky, and it had been a while since he'd... you know. But, on the other hand, she was a demon. He's pretty sure there are some sort of moral implications to that or... something.

And so, he just...

????

Ex-Lucifer Loyalist. Let's please remember she's playing for Team Winchester now. Well, okay, she's playing for Team Fuck-I'm-In-Love-With-An-Angel, but that just happens to coincide with Team Winchester for the time being.

And Lucifer still scares the crap out of her. But she's dealing with that... Kinda.

But really. The whole time she's been here how much trouble has she caused? None. Well, there was the incident in the bar but she was the victim and there was the incident with Crowley but he deserved it.

She kisses him for a moment longer before breaking it. She remains in his personal space, almost nose to nose with him, with a smirk on her lips.

All things considered, Meg has kept out of trouble remarkably well. He supposes that might have something to do with her continued presences in the lives of the Winchesters and Castiel. They did that to people. He's not sure how, but he can't exactly ignore the evidence when it's standing right in front of him.

Meg pulls back, but not away and Chuck blinks owlishly at her. His gaze travels from her eyes to her lips, back up to her eyes. Wow, she was.... she was still standing really close.

"Uh..." Which is about the best he's got at the moment because what? Granted, Meg wasn't a bad kisser, and he greatly prefers to be kissed to killed, but, no, seriously, what?

He should totally write the epic love story of her and her unicorn. Only not. Because then she would be forced to stab him in the face repeatedly until he had no face left to stab. It would be messy and it would be a shame to destroy such a pretty face.

And really, the whole deer in the headlights thing he's doing right now? Kinda cute. But he doesn't seem to be doing much to defend himself, does he? Only goes to show he can't take care of himself all alone in the tunnels.

Oh well, since she's still this close to him she might as well steal another kiss - after all, his angelic handlers will probably smite her once they're powered back up.

If he'd been alive -- or, would be alive? Timelines were confusing -- by the time Meg realizes her epic unicorn love for Castiel, he would have written it. However, there was that pesky 'Only one prophet allowed at a time' rule and, well. Kevin had called dibs. Her love story will have to remain unwritten.

But Meg kisses him again and you know what he's only human, okay? Especially at the current moment, with the the whole lack of powers deal. There's only so much he can take when a woman has pushed him up against the wall and is repeatedly kissing him.

And so Chuck kisses her back. After all, she's just as human as he is, currently. He doesn't have that much to lose, and makeouts to gain. Even if she is a demon.

Well who made that rule in the first place, hmm? Was it God? Chuck has no one else to blame but himself. Everything ever is God's fault, okay? And if it's not God's fault then it's the Winchester's fault!

Besides, Kevin is an adorable little nerd to keep around the place. Shame he's not here to brighten the place up a bit.

Oh, hang on. Did Chuck just find his balls and kiss Meg back? He did! He is kissing her back. This is a thing that is happening. She smirks against his lips before kissing him harder, parting her own lips to invite him in.

Raphael's been swinging close and wandering away from Chuck this entire trip. Some of it is purposeful - him all but crawling up Michael's back and shooting daggers at the back of Lucifer's head for being difficult, walking with Samandriel and keeping him close, falling back to cover the angel's backs or scouting a head for a path, or simply pausing to comfort one of the youngsters. Some of it isn't, his sense of direction is gone, he's sore and tired and hurting and needs to slow down, once he had to figure out how to pee and that cemented his "humans are weird and I hate this" attitude. And over the day, he's managed to gain a flashlight (thank you Brigid), give away his jacket (You're welcome blue-skinned woman) and use his tie as a sheath for his sword, scruff the knees of his pants and skin the palm of his hand and hurt his wrist (damned debris), gain a bottle of water (thank you Donna), turn his immaculately clean white shirt fairly dirty, and collected some other injuries.

By now, he's sore. Really sore - and limping actually - his left foot hurts, his knees ache, his back just feels stiff, there's a small goose egg on the right side of his head, his right hand and wrist hurt, his head his throbbing all over, and he keeps swallowing but it's not helping, and there's an uncomfortable burning feeling in his chest. But he falls back (more or less) in step with Chuck again.

"How are you holding up?"

He's seen Raphael periodically throughout the day. And every time, Raphael has looked worse and worse. H'e worried over the state of the archangel, but there really isn't anything he can do about it, not as an actual human.

At least, not until this time around.

"Raphael," he greets, tone full of concern. "You look terrible." Full of tact, as always. He's actually much more worried for the archangel than he is for himself. Because, no, really, Raphael looks terrible.

"Oh," he takes out a water bottle of his own. He'd obtained it sometime between Raphael's last visit and now, and it's about half full. He offers it to him. "Here, this... might help?"

If he sounds uncertain, it's only because he is. He's not a doctor, he's a writer. He knows it won't help the pain or the overall feeling of being human. But Balthazar had forgotten to drink anything, and he can only assume that Raphael has done the same. After all, if he's dehydrated, it will only make him feel worse.

He hadn't planned on this -- especially himself losing his own powers -- and he's not pleased by it. But it could, at the very least, help his angels. Help gain just a little bit of insight into humanity, and why humans act the way they do. Walking a mile in the shoes of a human -- literally.

Worse and worse summed it up well - he was tired, and the more tired he became, the more he seemed to trip. It didn't dawn on him that dehydration and low blood sugar were the cause of the brain fog and headache, or even that they were related, though under normal circumstances, he would have known that.

"And you say we're terrible at being comforting." It's more groused than an actual complaint - he feels terrible, but he didn't need it pointed out. "What? I have one-" He shifted the flashlight around, he'd been holding it in his left hand, to tug the somewhat crunched full bottle of water from his pocket. It would have been easier without the flashlight tucked under his arm, but he's very reluctant to carry anything in his right hand - not too surprising, perhaps, as it's the side his sword is hanging on. "-see?"

It takes him a second to realize Chuck means he should drink it, and a further second to get it open without dropping the flashlight. It would be easy to think Raphael was afraid to be in the dark - that's not completely wrong, either, even if he's trying to cover it up. The water is warm, body temperature, but once he actually starts to drink it, he keeps drinking it, almost draining the bottle in one go, and panting as he finally pulled it away.

If he knew that Chuck thought this might teach Raphael something...he'd probably laugh. Chuck wasn't wrong about gaining something, but Raphael didn't hate humans, not really. He was deeply, profoundly disappointed in them, and from this pitied them. Oh some of his protective instincts, the fierce, devoted, occasionally terrifying mother-henning he'd learned from Lucifer and generally only showed a few most beloved brothers, had pricked and poked and prodded at, extended to the entirely of the present host, towards Chuck, towards the children here and it would be a very grave mistake to any to think of raising a hand to them in the near future, but...

...and there was always a but...

those responsible for this? Had best hope Michael finds them before Raphael ever does. Because while he was driven to protect, Raphael also had a vicious temper - and he saw in this cruel abuse of the fragile nature of humanity. More proof that paradise in any form was better than letting humans continue to run amok.

"What? No, I just meant..." At least he was honest. Although, to be fair, he was a terrible liar, a fact that would have been made extremely obvious if he had said anything besides.

Chuck watches Raphael completely down the water bottle with a combination of emotions. On one hand, he was glad he was right -- Raphael was dehydrated and, while drinking what he had would certainly help, water wasn't an end-all cure. On the other hand, it's sad. The mighty, fearing archangels, able to bring about the end of the world and everyone along with it... resorting to drinking an entire water bottle in one breath because he was dehydrated.

He continues to hold out his own half-full water bottle, even after Raphael finishes his own. He's not entirely sure how much longer they have to go in these tunnels to reach... wherever it was they're going, but clearly Raphael needs it more than he does. If he had food as well, he'd share that, but he's sadly empty on that front.

It makes him wonder about the other angels. If Raphael, the Healer, was this bad, how was the rest of the Host? Castiel, he's not too worried about. The Winchesters likely have him taken care of, but Michael? Lucifer? Samandriel?

Hopefully they'll find a way out of these tunnels sooner rather than later.

He knows, for the archangels, there's still a long way to go between wanting to destroy all of humanity and loving them. Nor is he expecting a change overnight. He's well aware things like this are a process, and they've proven that such a process is necessary. It will take time. He's only hoping this experience might help to jump start that process.

Raphael replaced the cap on the water bottle, taking twice to line the threads up right to screw the lid back on, then shoving it back into his pocket.

He swallows hard for a moment, then shakes his head no. "Give it to Michael." He doubts his brother has had anything to drink either, and had that occurred to him before he downed his own water, he would have saved some of it.

He might try to find Donna and get more water for his brothers. Michael might have to force it down Lucifer's throat, given how he's acting but they'd figure it out.

Raphael isn't aware that Chuck thinks he hates humanity - he doesn't. He doesn't think Michael does either. Killing the humans isn't about hatred, but about mercy and compassion, at least from their preceptive. Certainly from his. And he really doesn't understand why people think he hates humanity.

"But thank you."

It wasn't a matter of hatred or disappointment. He'd told the angels to love the humans and instead they were going to destroy them. Whatever emotions were behind that needed to change. And change doesn't happen all at once and he knows that.

Give the bottle of water to Michael, Raphael says, and Chuck gives a nod, lowering the water bottle back down to his side. He hasn't come across the eldest archangel yet, but if he does, he'll certainly hand it over.

"Yeah, I mean, no problem. Anything I can do to help, right?" He tries. He knows he's not always the best at helping, but he does try. And giving water to an archangel turned human was something the very least he could do to help.

"So, uh. Is everyone else... alright?" Because he has a feeling Raphael's been hopping between people, and so he would be the best person to ask if everyone made it out alright.

Raphael does love them, in a way. The way a farmer loves his livestock or a game warden loves the animals. What he'd said Chuck was true - he saw it as putting down a sick animal, more than an act of hatred. He just didn't see the ones who wanted to suffer through as outweighing all those who prayed for it to end. And it was only when he had other ideas as to what to do that his emotions would change. It was all he could afford.

He just nodded - loyalty to Michael trumped his own needs, and most didn't need that explained.

"We'll see." He didn't actually trust Chuck - he had proven he was a handful after all.

"Thus far, yes." He had been hopping between people. But everyone being 'alright' didn't answer where his jacket had gone, or why his sword was hanging in a ready position.

Chuck was human. Even as a prophet, he has a considerable amount of power, a considerable amount of knowledge. He doesn't want his home, his planet to be destroyed. So of course he was going to side with the Winchesters. Of course he was going to fight the angels and pass along information and fight. he might not be useful for much, but he does what he can.

He nods. He's come across several people of his own, although non of them have looked as battered and ruffled as Raphael. "Are... you alright?" Probably belated and probably a stupid question, but he asks it anyways, voice full of concern.

"I'll be fine, as soon as we are out of here." And his Grace was restored, then he'd been fine. So no, he wasn't all right. "My feet hurt. Humans used to walk more than this all the time. They managed just fine. It was interesting to watch, these miles long treks, I don't understand..." Why he wasn't having an easy time of this.

Oh, Balthazar's not happy about the typewriter, either. It occurred to him on the way out, but he came to the same conclusion as Chuck. It might not be too heavy, but it's certainly too awkward a thing to haul through a cavern.

After a few hours in the tunnels, he's footsore and grouchy, but for some reason it hasn't actually occurred to him to eat or drink any of the provisions he's brought. Force of habit, perhaps, not needing nourishment? In any case, when he stumbles across Chuck at a junction in the tunnels, he's relieved, and quick to think of the meager snacks he's carrying. "Chuck! I was worried; I didn't know whether you'd left or not. Are you thirsty?"

Even without his prophet powers to tell him when the angels are nearby, he's fairly certain all of the angels all made it into the tunnels. But, despite this knowledge, he's still relieved to come across Balthazar, and he gives him a grin in greeting. "Yeah, no. Raphael came by earlier. Said if I come in here willingly, he'd force me. So, uh, here I am?"

It wasn't really a question. Here he is, and here he's been for the past couple of hours. It's hard to tell how long, exactly, but it's been a while. A while of wondering, not knowing if he was going the right way or where he was supposed to even end up.

"Oh, uh, yeah. Water'd be great. I mean, if you don't mind sharing." After all, Balthazar's just as human as Chuck is, now. If he needs water, he has no doubt that Balthazar needs water, too.

Balthazar laughs softly. He doesn't envy Chuck that conversation with Raphael, but better Raphael than Michael. "That's probably for the best, but I'm sure you'd have rather skipped the pep talk. Of course I'll share. I brought it for the people that would need it."

Meaning the mortal people. He crouches to pull the jar out of his makeshift bag, and only then does it occur to him what Chuck actually mean by sharing. "...oh. Do you think we need some as well?"

How do you know if you're thirsty, anyway? He's never been before.

Chuck smiles back. "Yeah, no. I was thinking about coming anyways, but, uh. Raphael's kind of intimidating, you know? So that decided that." He wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to maybe return home. If that was indeed where they tunnels were heading. He couldn't tell before he entered, and he certainly can't tell now.

"Well, you're human now, right?" Because whatever was powerful enough to damp his powers would definitely damp the angels. "So, yeah. You need water. And food." Dehydration and hunger pains would no doubt look ugly on angels, and Chuck would like to avoid that if all possible. They hadn't been in the tunnels long enough to kill anyone, but it would be annoying and bothersome.

"No one knows better than me how intimidating Raphael is." He chuckles softly. "Except possibly Cas. In any case, it worked. You're alive so far."

He frowns in thought, opening the jar slowly. The water does have a certain allure suddenly, and his mouth feels weirdly dry. This is thirst? How unpleasant. "I'm not human, I'm just...bound. You'd better drink first. I'm not sure where to start and stop."

The longer Dean spends down here, the more claustrophobic he feels, and the more he starts remembering digging himself out of his grave. That's really not a situation he feels like repeating, so he winds up falling into step with people, talking, trying to keep his mind from settling on any one image in particular. Even if they're talking about their inevitable doom, at least Dean's mind won't fill up with memories in the same way.

He thinks he spots Chuck, and he waits until he can verify -- slouchy, beardy, yup. It's Chuck. He joins him, giving him a smile in greeting.

"Always thought it'd be cool to be on The Mole. Not like this, though."

Chuck's run into a few people by this time. He's still not entirely convinced he isn't wondering in circles, but he figures if he keeps coming across other people, he can't be too far off from the correct path, right?

Or, at the very least, he's not wondering in circles alone.

He gives a short laugh at Dean's commentary, returning his greeting grin. "Yeah, no, this isn't exactly the same thing. At least," He frowns. "I don't think it is."

Gabriel had dropped the Winchesters into various television shows once. This wasn't the same thing, not by a long shot, but the scientists like to do their experiments, and that was almost similar, in a way. Even these tunnels had to be an experiment. The lack of powers were proof enough.

"Yeah, that one was more sabotage and money. This one is more actual moles." Laughing is good; it helps ease some of Dean's tension until his smile is only half the fake one he usually pulls.

"How're you holding up? You still all wrapped up in the angels' stuff?"

"I hope this isn't like that. I mean, worst game show ever, right?" He jokes back. Keeping things light and even. He can do that. It was better than the alternative, anyways.

"Uh, sort of? Not as much since, you know. Michael and Lucifer." Which was fine. And completely understandable. After all, what's a prophet next to the potential Apocalypse?

"They're not looking to start that up again, do you know?"

He could ask Raphael, or he could continue to resent Raphael's existence and not trust him and try to pump the people around him for information. Like Chuck, for instance. Good ol' Chuck.

"You're not getting any visions of Stull Cemetery 2?"

Luckily for Dean, Chuck had asked those exact questions of Raphael not too long ago, and so he actually knows the answers. "No, at least, I don't think they are. I mean, we're not exactly on Earth, right?"

He shakes his head. "No, I haven't had any visions. Not since arriving here. But, I mean, the Apocalypse was over, so I'm not sure which..."

"I stopped expecting angels to make sense a long time ago."

That's actually mostly a lie; he never believed in them, and then Cas was kind of terrifying and suspicious and mildly threatening right out of the gate, so... So that's a never on expecting angels to make sense. He never thought that would happen.

"I don't know how any of this works. What I do know is that angels are shady sons of bitches, and they can find a way to justify whatever horrible crap they decided to do now."

Unfortunately, that includes Cas.

"Well, yeah, but..." Angels were shady. He's not going to deny that, not at all. But he does love his angels, and he will try to defend them when he can.

"I mean, the Apocalypse is about destroying Earth, right? No Earth, not Apocalypse." Unless, of course, Michael and Lucifer decided to fuck that and cause the Apocalypse anyways.

After all, the only thing that had been holding up the Apocalypse back home was vessels. And Nick and John seemed to be functioning just fine as vessels here.

"Who said we're not on Earth?" He looks at Chuck expectantly. Dean doesn't know if he's totally sure, but this place looks and feels like Earth, other than the weirdass shit; all the things in the houses? Totally Earth-y, and all the plants and food check out. The way the scientists were talking about potentially using the people with powers since they don't have any on their world -- could be Earth.

None of it's conclusive, but if he's not sure, then other people can't be either, unless they know something he doesn't.

Michael may have been the one to force Lucifer into the tunnels, but the Devil is, if nothing else, exceptionally patient. It doesn't take more than a few hours for his elder brother's attention to falter, and with skill born of countless years of practice, Lucifer slips his figurative leash and heads off on his own.

He'll return, of course. Eventually.

For now, however, he's content to be away from his younger siblings' nervous glances (punctuated by Raphael's relentless glaring) and Michael's dogged focus. The tunnels have presented them with an entirely new problem - the loss of their powers and a sudden, jolting transition into humanity.

He feels blind and deaf and muted, irrevocably bound to an ill-fitting form. Nick is remarkably heavy without his Grace, and Lucifer dislikes it. Fumbling around in a darkness that's far too reminiscent of the Cage is doing him no favors, either.

It's not too much of a shock, then, when he eventually does run into something - or rather, someone. Turning a corner, Lucifer is just light on his feet enough to avoid bowling over the unkempt figure of what he's vaguely certain is a prophet.

Strange.

"Watch your step, prophet."

"Oh, sorry, sorry I..." Apologies were already falling out of his mouth the second he almost runs into someone. It is dark in the tunnels, after all, and neither Chuck's sense of direction nor his spatial awareness were one of his better traits. They have gps's for a reason, back home, and they were a tool he'd relied heavily on. But here, in the technological void that was the Cape, he's left desperately hoping he won't be wandering in circles for the rest of eternity.

Chuck takes a few steps back so he isn't standing in the person's personal space when he looks up and realizes that he didn't just run into someone; He almost literally ran into the actual Devil.

"...wasn't... looking..." He finishes lamely, trying to discretely take another step or ten back away from the being in front of him. He knew Lucifer was here, of course. He'd felt him when he arrived, he'd seen the network post he made. But knowing and bodily running into were two completely different things.

"Uh..." Since his own powers are gone in the tunnel, he can only assume that Lucifer's are gone as well. But, he's also certain that, even powerless, the Devil could still rip him apart if he wished to do so. Chuck doesn't even have a height advantage, because Lucifer's vessel is taller than him.

However, judging from his words and actions, it's obvious to him that Lucifer doesn't remember being here. Which begs the question: Why do some people (Or, uh... beings.) remember being here before while others don't?

But now is not he time to be wondering such things. Not when he's face-to-face with the Devil himself.

"Obviously," comes the dry reply. Lucifer cocks his head, examining Chuck with a decidedly unimpressed look. His opinion of human intelligence is already low, but he thought that perhaps a prophet might be a credit to his species.

But perhaps not.

He raises an eyebrow. "Slipped Raphael's leash, have you?"

Not that Lucifer's one to judge - even in the low light, it's easy to see the bruises ringing his wrists, tokens from his last scuffle with Michael in these fragile, mortal bodies. Nick is big man, broad and tall, but he lacks the training war had given John Winchester - training that Michael had used well to his advantage in forcing his little brother into compliance.

Michael will find him again, no doubt. And they will, inevitably, fight again. For now, though? A prophet is decent enough amusement in these barren tunnels.

"Uh, sort of?" He doesn't want to admit, not out loud, not to Lucifer, that he thinks the only reason he doesn't currently have a archangel hovering over his shoulder was because said archangel was too busy looming over other archangels.

Or, well, archangel, if Lucifer had made an escape of his own. Because if he knows Michael -- and he does know Michael -- he wouldn't have let Lucifer out of his sight. He almost wonders if Lucifer had waited until Raphael wandered off and then knocked Michael unconscious in order to get away.

He's not sure he would put it past Lucifer and, without any of his powers, he has no way of knowing for certain.

But, nevertheless, Lucifer is here now and Chuck's more concerned about his own well-being. "I mean, I didn't escape or anything, I was just..." Yeah, that's about all he's got.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

'listen to the warning' the prophet he said

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near the end of the day?

Sounds good to me!

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