#challenge response

Now you learned that every single one of them had lied to you.

You'd spent the better part of the evening-adjacent hours lying face-down on your sofa, trying and failing to take a nap. The scratchy, standard-issue pillow beneath your face was soaked with tears. Your chest ached. Worst of all, any attempt on your part to get your mind off what upset you just ended with you crying harder. All the while, that awful rumble went on and on and on and on relentlessly, allowing you no respite long enough to drift off and forget your current predicament.

A chime cut through your misery. You paused without so much as lifting your head. As of three hours prior, you were officially off duty for the day. Nothing required you to answer the door unless an order came down from a superior officer, and they would call first. Probably it was only Uhura coming by to check on you. Having been through her own breakup during this voyage, surely she would understand when you didn't let her inside.

The chime sounded again, and with it came a surge of possibilities flooding your mind. What if your visitor was dealing with a crisis? Cases of PTSD had been on the rise since the events on Altamid. You could hardly ignore that in favor of your own small, personal crisis. Off duty or not, your role as a ship's counselor would not allow you to wallow in self-pity when someone might need your help.

As your boots hit the floor, you pressed one sleeve of your rumpled blue uniform to the corner of each eye. The gesture wouldn't do much to disguise what you'd been doing over the course of your time off, but you felt a little steadier afterward. Breathing deeply in and out helped too—until you hiccuped. But you could prepare yourself no more. Squaring your shoulders, you stood, walked over to the door leading to the corridor, and opened it.

Just outside stood the familiar, lanky figure of the ship's science officer. The second you spotted him, you wiped your sleeve across your face with greater urgency.

"You're not one of my patients," you said, "or Uhura."

"A very astute observation, Lieutenant [L Name]," Spock replied.

A long moment elapsed during which the two of you stared at one another. Several fellow crewmates in various uniform colors threw curious looks at his back as they passed by on their ways to wherever they were headed. Your friend, meanwhile, allowed a single dark eyebrow to drift toward his hairline. He clearly had no intention of moving on.

"What are you doing here?" you sighed at last.

The wayward eyebrow rejoined its brother. "Lieutenant Commander Uhura informed me that you left your office this afternoon in distress. I note that her assessment was an accurate one. If anything, you appear to be in more distress now than she described to me then."

You couldn't lie to Spock, not when you looked the way you looked after a crying jag like the one you'd just had. So you didn't bother to try. "Fine. I'm in distress. But really, Spock, it's not the kind of distress you can help with. I'm sure Captain Kirk will need you on a landing party any minute now, so if you'll excuse me—"

"Lieutenant Commander Uhura also informed me of the cause of your distress."

"Of course she did." Sometimes you wished your two friends were a little lighter on the "amicable" part of "amicable exes." "Let me guess: You came by to tell me that you told me so."

"As a Vulcan, I have no reason to rub my correct prediction in your face, if you will forgive the Terra colloquial."

You let out a wet laugh despite yourself. "You're pardoned."

"What I have done is stopped by the mess hall. If I am not much mistaken, ice cream is a traditional consolation food in these types of situations."

He produced from behind his back a number of different colored tapes. So startled were you that you found yourself unable to say anything. Never in a million years would you have imagined Spock of all people standing in front of you and offering you junk food of all things. Your silence went on for so long that he had to prompt you to speak:

"Was I incorrect in my understanding of how to handle Terran breakups?"

"No," you said, then, "I just didn't want you to find out about the breakup until I could pull myself together."

"I surmised as much, given that Lieutenant Commander Uhura found out about your circumstances before I did, although you and I are closer friends. It would have been more logical for you to contact me for assistance than her."

Vulcans as a whole were difficult to read. Even factoring in your education and training, as well as your friendship with Spock that had gone on for several years now, you could only guess his feelings the majority of the time. Not so then. Something about his tone made him sound hurt. Maybe you could chalk that up to projecting your own feelings onto him, but you couldn't risk that assumption.

"It's just that you warned me against dating Kevin," you explained. "As ship's counselor, I should have seen the end coming a kiloparsec away."

"Perhaps. But one might also say that your extensive proximity to the crew's emotions might cause some loss in objectivity on your part."

"So you're not here to make me feel worse?"

"I came for consolation purposes. That is all."

"Well, all right, then."

You stepped away from the doorway. Spock followed you in. He paused only long enough to press the button to close the door before he came to join you in your sitting room. A crate sat on the floor along his path, and he looked at you questioningly as he walked by it.

"Those are Kevin's things," you said.

"Expedient," he observed.

Normally, you might have tried to go for a little more decorum around him, but that day you didn't have the energy to do more than flop back onto your couch. At least you were upright. Spock, on the other hand, claimed a dignified perch at the end of your chair. The two of you certainly made an odd pair.

"He had so many hair products!" you burst out when the awkward silence turned unbearable. "I should have known we wouldn't work out. Who brings that much hair spray into deep space?"

"Humanity can hardly be expected to iron out all its flaws when you all cling so hard to your baser emotions."

"Do you mean Kevin's desire to look nice, or my need to be in a relationship?"

Spock blinked, then smoothly said, "In this case, I refer to your former beau's preoccupation with personal grooming."

"Right. Either way, I'm about ready to get rid of all my own baser emotions. Not feeling them would be a blessing." You got back to your feet and thrust one hand in Spock's direction. "Ice cream tape, please."

He offered one to you.

"Spock," you said warningly.

"I do not believe that heartbreak is an excuse to overeat. I only brought so many because I was unsure which flavor you would select."

The glare you leveled at him seemed to make him think better of lecturing you on the dangers of gluttony—as well it should have. This was the same glare that you gave Dr. McCoy when you were tired of listening to him. Unlike with Dr. McCoy, you smiled once Spock dropped the rest of the tapes into your outstretched hand.

"Thank you." You headed for your in-quarters food producer, then turned your head to ask over your shoulder, "What flavor do you want?"

"I do not require ice cream."

"Come on, Spock. If you're going to spend the evening commiserating with me, you have to have some ice cream, too. That's a critical part of the Terran breakup process."

One corner of his mouth twitched. "I'll have pistachio, then."

You fed the yellow-green tape into the slot. A quiet beeping noise covered the hum of the warp drive as the computer worked. While you waited, you flipped through the remainder of the flavors until you found the one you wanted.

"I don't think it would be a good idea for you to give up emotions," Spock said.

"Huh?" Frowning at him, you replaced his tape with yours. "Aren't you the guy that's been talking about doing the Kolinahr when we get back to Earth?"

"That's different. I am a Vulcan."

"Half Vulcan."

"Vulcan enough."

A shriller beep put an end to this potentially sticky subject. The ice creams were ready. You dumped the rest of the tapes in a basket next to the food producer, picked up the bowls, and brought them back to the living room. Spock took his with a grateful nod, though he waited until you sat down again before taking a bite.

"Maybe I'd be a better counselor if I didn't have emotions," you mused. "If I wasn't blinded by my own feelings, I could help the crew more with theirs. I shouldn't have the same problems as they do after all the studying I've done."

"While that may indeed make sense, it is hardly realistic. Besides, if you did not have your human emotions, you would no longer be the [Name] that I know, and I believe that I would miss her."

You couldn't help but smile around the spoon in your mouth. Popping that out, you said, "I bet you say that to all the Terrans you like."

"Hardly. In fact, that captain may benefit from an hour or two without his usual emotions."

"I appreciate you saying that, Spock."

"I am only speaking the truth. I have no intention of bolstering your ego artificially, even if doing so is a part of the Terran breakup process."

"I know." You slowly lowered your spoon back to the bowl, staring off into space. Something was dawning on you—something that might have dawned on you sooner had you not been so enthralled with your own feelings. "You know what else I appreciate? You coming here to help me today. Not every first officer would go out of their way for a ship's counselor like that."

Spock fixed you with an unblinking gaze as he said, "You mean a great deal more to me than most ship's counselors mean to their first officers."

"I don't care what Captain Kirk says. You sure know how to make a woman blush."

"I have had some practice with the activity."

"Remind me to thank Uhura later."

"Thank her for what?" Spock asked.

Maybe you were reading the signs wrong. Maybe you were just desperate. If he had to ask, you had to be wrong. But you took a deep breath anyway, and said, "Helping me realize that maybe the guy I've been looking for this whole time has been my best friend all along."

How could it have taken you this long to work it out? No one else spent as much time with you as Spock did, not outside of your office hours. It didn't matter if you were in the mess hall asking for a round of Fizzbin after dinner or you wanted a quiet night in your quarters. He always seemed to be there. You felt comfortable around him. Maybe you didn't always understand Spock; maybe Spock didn't always understand. But you didn't enjoy anyone's company the way you did his. And you had to wonder when your eyes met just then if he felt the same way, and if this coming-to-see-you-with-ice-cream thing was his way of showing you that.

"Well," he moistened his lips before going on, "I certainly feel that our relationship is founded more steadily upon mutual interests and desires than it is upon a passion for hair products."

You leaned forward. "You know, that sort of relationship sounds really appealing right about now."

"It does?" Spock shifted closer to you.

"I think it's about time that I dated someone whose first thought in the morning isn't beating me to the sonic shower, don't you?"

By that time, you both had come so close that it wouldn't have taken much more movement on either of your parts to touch lips. Your heart gave a painful leap inside your chest. Was this too much too fast? Even if you had just realized you'd had a thing for Spock for a while now, you had only just broken up with your last boyfriend that morning. Treating Spock as a rebound was the last thing you wanted to do. He didn't seem to mind, though. His mouth drew closer and closer to yours until you could feel his breath on your face.

The communicator in your room chirped. You jumped. Spock paused before sitting back up in his chair. Then you rose wordlessly, stepped over to the panel, cleared your throat, and pushed the button.

"[L Name]," you said.

"[Name]?" Uhura did not remark on how breathless you sounded, thankfully. "I need to talk to Spock."

"It's for you," you said unnecessarily. Spock had already reset his face into its typical blank mask and made his way to the communicator himself.

"Spock here. What is it, Lieutenant Commander?"

"Captain Kirk needs you on the bridge. We have a situation up here."

"What kind of a situation?"

"There's a former United States President floating outside the ship. He says he needs our help."

"I will be there right away."

A second chirp signaled that communications between your room and the bridge had ceased. Spock turned back to you.

"My presence is needed on the bridge," he said.

"So I heard."

"I apologize. I believe we were in the middle of something."

"It's all right."

He didn't move.

"Spock, go. Don't you want to know why a deceased historical figure has asked for the Enterprise's help?"

"I'd prefer to stay here," Spock said. "But you are correct. I must leave. Will you still be here later tonight?"

"Yeah." You surprised yourself with the eagerness of your answer. "Yeah, I will. I promise I won't run off with any other lieutenants while you're away. I'll save the rest of the ice cream. We can share it when you get back."

There it was: The slight curl to Spock's mouth that told you that you weren't making up the mutual attraction between you both after all. "To use another Terran phrase, it's a date."

The story was written for @luxken27‘s Summer Mini Challenge and was very much a last minute project. I had 3 months and only remembered I wanted to participate when there was only a week to go. I lacked inspiration, though. And then I was watching TV on the Sunday before the deadline, stumbled across “The Host” (Oh no! Something by Stephenie Meyer!!! :P) and got inspired. Whoops? 

The movie had only just started and I already thought “what if aliens do possess humans, but they didn’t do it on purpose, and all they want is to go home again?”. 

I started writing on Monday. 

It was harmless enough, early on. The first chapter was only 264 words long, and I thought that if I wrote a chapter of that length every day, by Friday the story would be finished. Easy! (Famous last words...)

Tuesday’s chapter was already a little over twice as long, but I thought that was still manageable. I wrote only half a chapter on Wednesday, and that’s when I began to worry. On Friday evening I still had 2 chapters two write and only 10 more hours to go (so glad that time zones exist and the deadline was Saturday, 7 a.m., my time XD). I finished chapter 4 around 1 a.m., but chapter 5 got longer and longer... Both chapters hadn’t gone as I had planned. I was worried about the content because I really didn’t want T’aka to be the bad guy...

I may have panicked a little and kept going only because @tygerblaze allowed me to use her as a sounding board. I finished the story a little over an hour before the deadline, while it was already dawn outside...

I spent my weekend in a haze and couldn’t quite shake the story. So I’ll say a few words about the content, as well:

You may have noticed that all the characters (aliens and humans alike) are gender neutral. I think it makes sense since the story is told from the POV of an incorporeal alien whose kind has no concept of gender – meaning that they’d be unlikely to care about human genders either. That I used “it” as a pronoun for the human was only to avoid ambiguity (so it would be clear who I was writing about at all times). It’s not meant to be dehumanizing, but one could still argue that the alien might see humans as the inferior species. T’aka makes a few comments that could be interpreted that way, at least.

Once I reached the point at which the humans got names, I deliberately chose unisex names, so it’s up to the reader what gender they want the humans to have. :)

And then there’s the non-con, when T’aka practically takes over to talk to another alien. That came as an utter surprise to me... The chapter was finished and I stared at what I had written and only thought “oh no, what have I done???”

I tried to do damage repair in the last chapter – which is one reason why it got so long. I hope I managed to convey that there was no malice behind the act. I mean, there are a myriad of very valid reasons for why the human was shutting out the alien. And I don’t imagine there was any malicious intent involved there either.

What it boiled down to was a trapped and desperate alien who needed to communicate and a frightened and equally desperate human who wanted to protect themselves. It’s a lose-lose situation, isn’t it?

T’epai mentions in chapter 4 that all other humans with an alien “guest” volunteered to let the alien speak through them. And the longer I think about it, the more I feel like the situation is more complicated than that. T’epai can’t actually be sure they reached all “possessed” humans. Who knows how many others reacted the way Alex did? It doesn’t even have to be something that drastic, they could just be humans who aren’t outside very often, for whatever reason...

I think that the earlier a human got the info that “We accidentally got attached to you. But don’t worry, we’ll be gone again soon, in 6 or 7 weeks maximum. We’ll behave, just let us talk to each other once in a while”, the more receptive they’d be to giving the aliens some leeway. However, if you don’t get that intro and maybe get a “guest” who’s a lot more forceful than T’aka was, there’s quite the potential for horror... ^^;

So this is what the simple idea of “write a story about an alien that has never come into contact with humans and see how they deal with all the strange input” morphed into. I blame half of that on lack of sleep. ;)

Gabriel startled and dropped his Bahama Mama as he heard something he hadn't heard in over a millennia. It was the sound of one of his brothers praying to him! Shock froze him, but every word washed over him with a serenity he hadn't realized he missed.

Please Father, let Dean stop Sam. Help me hold Raphael off. I would gladly give my life for this world, but I need time.

He listened closely and realized it was a prayer to God, rather than one directly to him. That meant dear old Dad was forwarding the prayer, wanted him to answer the call!

Indecision gnawed at him. On the one hand, he was elated. Dad was back, or at least somewhat involved, and he was tagging Gabriel back into the game. On the other hand, if he answered the prayer, that meant goodbye witness protection, hello war.

In the end, it was a no brainer. He may not have had anything to do in a (long) while, but he was still the messenger of God. If Dad was saying go, then he was going!

Invisibly, he zapped to the source of the prayer and saw little Castiel standing between a prophet and Raphael with nothing but an angel blade and a purpose. It was a beautiful thing and he felt so proud of his rebellious baby brother.

Raphael, smug as always, sighed. "Castiel, do not make me kill you. You cannot stop this, it is foolish to try."

Castiel visibly steeled himself and replied, "It may be foolish, but I believe it is what God would want."

"God is dead!" Raphael growled. "And even if He were not, you dare presume to know what He would want? He is the one who proclaimed the Apocalypse would come to pass!"

"Father loves this world and the humans who inhabit it." Castiel explained. "Perhaps this is a test and we are failing."

Raphael laughed and it was darkly bitter. "A test? God does not test us, He commands us!"

"You're wrong." Castiel proclaimed, "He gave us free will, and we are abusing it."

"Free will is a myth." Raphael hissed.

Well, as amusing as this was, that was as good an opening as any. Gabriel allowed himself to become visible and smirked as all three inhabitants flinched.

"Oh Raphael, still trying to catch flies with vinegar, I see." He observed casually, walking around the room, being careful not to overtly choose a side.

"Gabriel!" The angels exclaimed while the prophet sat heavily in a kitchen chair. Poor guy looked more stressed than Mary had when he'd told her that she had been knocked up.

"Brother, we thought you were dead. We mourned for you." Raphael intoned.

"Did you? Or were you glad to see one more difficult brother leave the flock?" Gabriel wondered, agitatedly pulling a lollipop out of thin air and plopping it into his mouth. Family made him stress eat. It was a good thing he couldn't gain weight.

Raphael ignored his question. "All of Heaven will sing out in joy at your return. Your help will be invaluable to creating our paradise."

Castiel let out a soft noise of distress. It reminded Gabriel of caring for him as a fledgling, and suddenly, he no longer wanted to play around with Raphael. Cassie needed to know big bro was on his side.

"No can do, Raph." Gabriel intoned nonchalantly. "I can't just let you and Mikey break my favorite planet. Plus, I like Cassie here way more than you dicks."

Raphael looked furious but his voice was calm. "You cannot defeat all of Heaven brother, especially not with this abomination as your only ally."

"Cassie is better than you where it counts, and I'm better than you in a fight. I like our chances just fine."

And with that, Gabriel snapped his fingers and Raphael was banished from the house. He'd learned some pretty nifty tricks as a Pagan god, tailor made to fit his feathery needs. While Lucy and Mikey may be a challenge, Raphael had always been the weakest of the archangels.

Castiel gazed at him with wide-eyed surprise. He understood the shock. Sometimes when least expect it, you get saved.

"So, Cassie, what's new?" Gabriel smirked.

~~~~~

Dean was pounding against the door like a maniac, frantically trying to get through to his brother. His god damn idiotic little brother who was minutes away from starting the friggin apocalypse.

"It's Lilith! Lilith is the seal! Sammy, don't you kill her!" He yelled, ineffectually.

He could feel the skin on his hands breaking, but he continued on. His voice was hoarse from screaming, but he couldn't stop.

A twin fluttering sound had him spinning around, teeth bared and ready to fight to the death. Before he could make sense of the fact that Cas was alive and accompanied by the trickster, the trickster snapped and the doors Dean had been desperately trying to get through flung wide open.

The trickster sped past him into the room, a silver blade in his hand.

"Sam!" Dean couldn't help but shout as he followed.

Sam had one hand out, Force choking Lilith, but startled and turned at the sound of his brother. His eyes were black.

It froze Dean. His eyes were black.

Luckily, the trickster wasn't deterred. Without a word he stepped up to Lilith and stabbed her in the chest, fast and strong. It all happened so quickly, Lilith barely had time to gasp.

There was a moment of stunned silence before Ruby screamed.

"No!  You can't do this! It was perfect! I was going to be rewarded beyond all of them!" She ranted.

The look on Sam's face (wounded, sick.  Betrayed.) spurred Dean to action. It almost felt like they were back in sync as Sam held Ruby still and Dean drove the knife home. He almost felt that her death was too quick.

Sam let the body slide to the floor and took an aborted step towards Dean. "I'm so sorry. Dean, I didn't know she was with Lilith."

"I know, Sammy." Dean tried to soothe, but he knew his voice was hardened with disappointment.

He watched as Sam's face screwed up in pain and couldn't help but try to comfort him.

"C'mere, Sammy." He beckoned, pulling the bigger man into his arms and sagging to accept the weight. "One day, you and I are gonna wake up alright. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but some day. I promise you."

As he held his crying brother in his arms, Dean glanced across the room toward the angel and the trickster, who had helped stop the apocalypse. He didn't know why the trickster had helped them and he would damn sure be asking soon.