What'd You Expect, Her Name is Samantha
For what it's worth. I took some liberties with the timeline here. It's present time, but Chuck and Sarah still work for the CIA. I figured given everything else in the story, that should be the easiest part to buy into.
"Honey, we need to talk."
"Ok, sure thing. Wait…what?" Chuck immediately popped out of the covers when the ominous nature of the words kicked in. He turned to look at his wife. "What is it?"
Sarah put a comforting hand on Chuck's shoulder as she sat up, plopping a pillow behind her back. "Well, Chuck, you know how you've wanted to know more about my past, and I've been holding back?"
"Well, we're married now, which means we share everything. So I've decided to tell you everything about my family and my past."
Chuck smiled. These were words he'd been waiting to hear for years. "Well, only if you feel comfortable with it," he said, trying unsuccessfully to temper his enthusiasm.
"I think I do." Sarah turned to Chuck, giving him a long, piercing look. "Here's the thing, Chuck." She looked away again, struggling to decide what to say. Finally, she added, "You know how I'm not like other girls."
"I'll say," Chuck replied drily.
"Well, I'm really not like other girls." Sarah turned back to look back at her husband, but she pointed past him towards the end table. "You remember that night?"
Chuck looked to see where she was referring. Sarah was pointing to the old Halloween picture, when she'd donned the Princess Leia outfit to give him a real memento of their then-fake relationship.
Suddenly, the picture moved up into the air, floating over Chuck's head and into Sarah's hands. "We should have a party like that this Halloween," she added as the picture fell into her hands. "Keep the tradition alive."
Chuck stared at his wife, mouth agape. "Did that just…Did you…What….Huh?" Finally, Chuck abandoned his search for words, and took the picture from her. He turned it around a couple of times, looking for a string or wire.
"Give me some credit, Chuck," Sarah said as she watched him. "It took a couple of years to learn how to do that. Without wires."
Chuck finally looked up, his eyes wide. "Wait. Then you're…a, um, a Wiccan?"
Sarah rolled her eyes. "Chuck can you really seem me holding hands in some circle, chanting about the Mother Goddess or whatever? No, Chuck, I'm a witch."
"Wait, don't be silly. There's no such thing as witches."
The picture left Chuck's hands, and started floating again, moving rapidly back and forth, just inches from his face. "Then how do you explain that?"
"The Intersect is malfunctioning again. That's the only explanation."
"The Intersect was removed from your head, silly."
Chuck shook his head, hoping that he might loosen whatever insanity had just taken up residence in his brain. "But, but you're a CIA Agent!"
"I'm not sure what that has to do anything."
"So all the kickass moves of yours…"
"You didn't think I could do all of that just from training, did you?" Sarah sighed.
"But the kickboxing, and the knives, and that move where you flipped that Hungarian wrestler on his back with just your elbow?"
"Mostly training, yes. But occasionally I threw in a little extra."
"But this is crazy! It doesn't make sense. Wait, are you feeling ok?"
The picture smacked Chuck in the head.
"Look, this conversation isn't going anywhere," Sarah said, returning the picture to the table. "And in case you haven't forgotten, you wanted to know everything about me."
"Well, I wanted to know about your family. Not about how you fly around on a broomstick at night!"
Sarah's gaze turned cold. "Chuck Bartowski, prejudice is the last thing I expected from you."
Chuck inched backwards, imagining what life would be like as a toad. "Sorry," he squeaked. "I don't know what witch stereotypes are real and which ones aren't. I'm new at this."
Sarah's gaze softened. "Well that's why we're talking about it, remember? Look, maybe we should try a different tactic. You want to know about my family. Maybe talking to my mother would help."
"Your mother? Wait, I thought you two weren't talking?" Chuck's surprise made him momentarily forget everything he'd just seen. "We should have invited her to the wedding!"
"We did. You met her. More than once." Sarah turned away, and yelled at the air. "Oh Mom? Could you come here for a sec?"
Immediately, a puff of smoke appeared and spread throughout the room. Chuck squinted, and could just make out a figure within the fog.
"Hey there, Chuckie! How's things?"
Sarah had been completely correct when she'd said that the Intersect had finally left Chuck's brain for good. It had been months since he'd felt the disorienting rush in his that occurred when he'd flashed. Even though he sometimes missed it, he had accepted that he would never have to feel the weird lightheadedness that only the Intersect could bring on.
At least that was until now, when Sarah's mother appeared from the smoky haze.
"Wait, how can Carina be your mother? She's…she's the same age as you!" Chuck had always thought that the DEA agent was younger than Sarah, but he knew better than to suggest that now.
"Well, Chuck," Carina explained. "You know how some people age more quickly than others? As if they age exponentially?"
Chuck nodded dubiously.
"Well, we age parabolically."
Chuck blinked. A few days ago, he'd have thought that hearing Carina Miller throwing around calculus terms would have shocked him. Now he took it in stride.
Carina turned to Sarah. "So you finally told him, huh?"
"I thought he'd be ready," Sarah looked at her husband accusingly.
"You can't rush things, Dear. These things take time to sink in."
At the moment, Chuck was trying desperately to keep the newfound knowledge that his mother-in-law had once propositioned him from sinking in. He decided questions would help.
"So, this whole witch thing…it's something you inherit?"
"In part, Chuck. But it takes work too." Carina smiled at her daughter. "I remember how hard you worked at trying to teleport for the first time. You were so proud when it finally worked."
"Mom!" Sarah protested, looking uncomfortable.
"Oh, please. If I wanted to embarrass you, I'd talk about your teenage rebellious phase. I mean, you actually used to take the stairs." Carina smiled at Chuck. "You aren't the only one who has had trouble accepting the idea of witches."
Chuck was beginning to feel slightly claustrophobic. He got to his feet and headed to the bedroom door. He felt two sets of eyes watch him the entire way, but neither Sarah nor Carina moved to stop him.
As he walked through the living room, he decided what he needed. He headed into the kitchen, and found a bottle standing at a top cabinet shelf. He removed the top and took a swig of the clear liquid.
"You know that's not actually vodka, right?"
Chuck nearly dropped the bottle as he whirled around to see his wife and mother-in-law standing by the kitchen table.
"How did you? Oh, never mind!" Chuck relented as he saw the faint smoke emanating around them. Teleportation was going to take some getting used to. "What do you mean? The label says vodka."
"Well, actually," Sarah said guiltily, "I kind of…" she held up her hand and wiggled her fingers in explanation. "It's pickled newt juice. It comes in handy on occasion, so I keep a bottle around. But I figured you would ask questions if you saw it as it was, and you usually don't drink much." Her look was slightly accusatory.
"Oh." Chuck sat down on the kitchen floor. "What's it going to do to me?"
"It will probably make you feel a bit dizzy, and blur your vision."
"Good. That's what I was going for."
Sarah moved over to Chuck and sat down beside him. "Do you want me to leave you two alone?" he heard Carina ask.
"No, it's ok," Chuck replied hoarsely. "Might as well have a whole family meeting."
"Chuck," Sarah said, her hand on his shoulder. "I'm still me. Still the same girl you fell in love with. Just think of me as a little more…enhanced."
Chuck's eyes momentarily shifted downward from Sarah's face.
"Not like that! We don't alter our physical appearance. Not unless absolutely necessary. It's a rule we live by."
"We're good people, Chuck," Carina chimed in. "We fight for the good of the country and the world. It's just the bad guys might be a bit different than you realize."
Chuck looked up. "Oh great, don't tell me. You guys fight vampires and werewolves, right?"
Carina and her daughter exchanged a look. "He goes to a lot of comic book conventions," Sarah offered up in explanation.
"Hey, at least my gatherings don't involve sitting around a cauldron in speak in tongues. Well, not most of them." He never should have let Morgan drag him to that Klingon prayer circle in 2006. "So, what do you mean then? A bunch of people are out there waiting for the chance to turn me into a chicken?"
"Oh please," Carina responded, "Poultrimancy has been obsolete for more than 100 years. No, the Ring preferred more aggressive methods."
"Wait, the Ring? The same Ring we eradicated a year ago? They're what, bad witches?"
"Warlocks, mostly. And yes, bad ones. But not quite eradicated."
"Though quite a bit weaker," Sarah chimed in, "In large part thanks to you."
Chuck considered this. "Then Shaw was a warlock?"
"Oh, God no," Sarah replied. "He was actually just a corpse re-animated by the Ring."
That was the first thing Chuck had heard all night that seemed to make sense.
"So, all this time we've been fighting evil witches?" he asked as he got to his feet and walked back to the living room. "Does Beckman know about this?"
Sarah and Carina gave each other a speculative look. "Yes, she does," Carina finally said. "Should we tell him? It seems like he's learned enough already."
"No, he needs the full truth." Sarah turned her head up to the ceiling. "Hey Sis? Could you come here a bit?"
Chuck decided that this was the perfect time for another sip of the pickled newt juice.
"Hey Mom, what's up? I kind of want to get back to…Hey!" It took a moment for the smoke to clear after General Beckman apparated into the room, so she didn't immediately see Chuck. Once she did, she dove behind a couch with a grace that belied her age. Or at least what Chuck thought her age was.
"Geez, couldn't you warn me he was here? I look totally horrible!"
Chuck stared at the furniture the four-star General was currently using as camouflage. "She seems a little…different when she's not on duty."
"Hey, I can act however I want," Chuck heard Beckman say. "I'm a United States General. So there."
She's usually more mature than this," Sarah explained, looking at her sister peevishly. "She's only like this if there's a cute boy around."
"My youngest has a slight crush on you," Carina added.
"Do not!" came the objection from behind the couch.
"So, she's your younger sister?" Chuck asked Sarah.
"Like I said, we age differently."
"Right, right, parabolically, I know. But if she's younger, how come she's the General?"
"Hey!" General Beckman's petulant face popped up over the couch. "You don't think I deserved to get my job?"
"Well, I uh…" Chuck wasn't sure what to say, unsure of whether the General was going to reprimand him, or burst into tears.
"You know, it's always been like this!" the General added. "You know what it's like growing up with her as an older sister? It was always Sarah made a rabbit disappear. Sarah was voted class president of Salem High. Sarah made Kansas City levitate twenty feet off the ground."
Sarah rolled her eyes. "You need to be strong with spells to work in the field. Not as much for a desk job."
"Hey! Who was it that made radishes grow out of the Secretary of Defense's ears last week?"
"Ok, ok!" The combination of the sibling rivalry and the pickled newt juice was beginning to make Chuck's head spin. "So, your whole family are witches. Is your dad a…spell-cast-y type too? Is he going to drop by next?"
Sarah looked down. "No. Dad died when I was 14."
"Wait. What do you mean? I met your Dad! He kept calling me Schnook, remember?"
"Schnook!" General Beckman giggled. "That is so awesome!"
"I'm sorry to deceive you about that, Chuck. The man you met, Jack Burton, was not my father."
"Sarah had a rough time after her father died," Carina explained. "We all did. One day, she decided to experiment with some new spells with the cat."
Chuck made a face. "So you're telling me that the man I talked to, who I spent several days trying to impress, was a cat?"
"Well, I'm surprised you didn't realize it. Cats are naturally inclined to white-collar crime."
"Mr. Wiggles seemed to enjoy it so much, we decided we couldn't change him back," Carina explained.
Chuck was still struggling with the idea that the man he'd been so intimidated by was someone who licked himself clean.
"My best friend Cathy and I once cast a spell on her pet German Shepherd," General Beckman commented. "He's a Senator now."
"You know what will make everyone feel better?" Carina asked. "Family photos." The red-headed agent snapped her fingers, and an old album appeared in her hands.
"Oh God," Sarah and Diane said simultaneously.
Chuck was torn between curiosity and apprehension, but sat down on the couch beside Carina. Sarah sat next to him, and the General peeked up at them from behind the couch.
"Ooh, here's Sarah, lying in her crib." Chuck peered down at the photograph. Sarah was certainly cute even then, but the various members of the reptile kingdom hanging from the mobile were a bit disconcerting. Especially since they seemed to still be alive.
The next picture showed a toddler-age Sarah on the ground, with the crib now floating in the air. "She outgrew that crib pretty quickly. We had a heck of a time getting it off of the roof."
Seeing that neither Chuck nor Sarah seemed particularly comfortable with these early pictures, Carina skipped ahead. "Here she is on her birthday. Do you remember that day, Sweetie? When you first got Mr. Wiggles?"
"I do." Sarah had seemed to relax a bit more now that they'd moved past the baby pictures. Chuck looked closely at the small kitten. It did bear a slight resemblance to Jack Burton.
"Bored now," the General announced, and moved to study the shelf of DVDs at the other end of the room. "Hey, don't you guys have any 'Gossip Girl'?"
"Ah, and I remember this day so clearly!" Carina said as she ignored her younger daughter and turned the page. "I was so proud." The picture showed a young Sarah standing in front of a local movie theatre, a large white sign in hand. Chuck squinted, and could just make out the words 'Splashing water is a hate crime.'
"They were showing "The Wizard of Oz," Sarah explained.
"Sarah always fought for what she believed in, even at that age. Both of my daughters did," she hastily added when the General started making retching noises in the background.
"Now, I think there are some pictures from her middle school years. I think that I still have the one when you turned into a ten-foot ogre for that class project."
Chuck looked up to see his wife giving him a speculative look. "Chuck? Are you ok?"
"You were making whimpering noises." Sarah looked up at her mother and sister. "Hey guys, maybe I should have some time with Chuck alone."
"Of course," Carina said. "You two have a lot to talk about. Welcome to the family, Chucky," she embraced him, and then vanished in a puff of smoke.
"You're lucky you're so hot," General Beckman commented. "Otherwise, I'd send you off to Kandahar or something."
A moment later, the living room was filled with two clouds of white smoke, and Chuck's in-laws were gone.
Sarah watched her husband for a few minutes, as he sat motionless on the living room couch. Finally, when Chuck's glazed expression showed no signs of leaving his face, she spoke.
"I'm sorry this has been such a shock to you, Chuck. But you kept telling me you wanted to know more about what I was like before I met you."
"Yeah," Chuck's voice cracked, "but I didn't think that it would cause everything I believed to be true about my life to change."
"Well, you should be used to that by now. And let's face it, your family isn't always a picnic either."
"So I have a sister that tends to meddle on occasion," Chuck replied, "and a brother-in-law whose repertoire of adjectives could use a little help. That's hardly the same thing."
"Let's not forget about the parents with the mysterious back story that just happens to have a connection to most of our missions. It's like your life was written by Joseph Campbell." Seeing the surprised look on her husband's face, Sarah said, "What? Sometimes I like to look through your books while you're out with Morgan. It's refreshing to read something that's not written in 16th Century English and doesn't make a swarm of locusts appear in the room."
"Alright," Chuck said. "Point taken. My family is screwed up too. But I didn't know about a lot of that either. We both discovered my parents' secrets at the same time. Or almost at the same time," he added, remembering that he hadn't told Sarah about his mother right away. "This is being dropped on my lap all at once."
"I know, and I'm sorry," Sarah put her hand over Chuck's. "But really, it's not that big of a deal. I'm not an Orthodox witch like my mother; so I don't really use my abilities that much. I almost never do when you're around. Never here, and I hardly ever use my powers on missions these days."
"Well, believe me, sometimes they come in handy. Like when you're in danger. But not routinely any more, even though they could be very helpful when going undercover. It's a lot quicker to just wave your hand and become a six-foot lumberjack, or a spider, or Colin Powell, then to have to spend hours preparing elaborate costumes. But you make do."
Sarah leaned in closer to Chuck, gazing deeply into his eyes. "The point is, it's just something from my past that might come in handy in a crisis. Think of it as my own Intersect. And this won't affect our relationship any more than your Intersect did. It's a part of my old life, but it doesn't have to be a part of ours."
Chuck took a deep breath. "Ok. I'm sorry if I overreacted a bit. It was just a lot of news for one night. So, just to make sure that was it, right? Nothing else you wanted to tell me."
"Well, actually, there is one more thing."
Seven months later
"Honey, did you know you could substitute gingko balboa and pomegranate seeds for toadstools in most summoning spells?"
Chuck put down the book on the large collection of reading material piled onto the bedside table. It was fascinating reading, but he was tired. Missions had only gotten more tiring since Sarah had taken time off. The necromancer they'd just stopped from turning the Dutch ambassador into a marmot had been a handful, to say the least. Nearly as tiring was keeping up the cover story he'd crafted for Casey and Morgan; fortunately the description of an international arms dealer had satisfied Casey's patriotic disposition and Morgan's general disinterest in details.
Like most post-mission nights, Chuck had spent his time learning about the two worlds he had recently been thrust into. He had organized his collection of references into two piles; one contained Devon's dog-eared collection of parenting books that he'd recently borrowed. Most of it he'd already been told by his sister, but the occasionally scrawled 'awesome' in the margins helped him find useful tips.
The other collection consisted of many harder-to-find books. But between "So You're Having a Witch Baby," "10 Surefire Ways to Hex-Proof Your Home," "Basic Spells for Dummies," and for good measure, Seasons 3 and 4 of "Charmed" on DVD, he felt like he had a basic knowledge of what to expect for his own, unique situation.
Not that there hadn't been bumps in the road. Babies-R-Us didn't sell cribs with the necessary levitation-proof crossbars, so they'd had to special order one. There had been the awkward situation when he'd asked the owner of the Day Care Center whether there was going to be room in Gryffindor House for his daughter. And he'd learned very quickly that you shouldn't refer to your baby's spell-casting obstetrician as a "witch doctor."
But all in all, he thought he'd done well for himself. And it had been good to finally feel like he was accepted by Sarah's family. Carina seemed to keep wanting to mother him all the time, which still seemed weird, and slightly creepy. And General Beckman hadn't completely lost her schoolgirl crush for him, which had now occasionally surfaced in mission briefings. He'd gotten strange looks from Casey for a whole month after the General had slipped and called him a stud muffin before sending them off to Algeria. He'd even gotten to have a few good conversations with Jack Burton when he'd come to visit, though he frequently stopped listening to Chuck in order to play with a ball of yarn he'd just found. Still, he'd taken it in stride, and he thought that Sarah had been proud of how he'd taken everything in stride.
Sarah, Chuck thought. She'd been in the bathroom for quite a while, and it had been quiet. He got out of bed, and knocked on the door. "Sarah, everything ok?"
"Um, Chuck," her voice was soft. "Don't freak out."
Chuck chose to ignore this bit of advice, and immediately began to panic. "Oh my God! It's time. I need to find the overnight bag! And my car keys! Where did I leave them? And where's the good cauldron?"
"Chuck." Sarah had stepped out of the bathroom, and was standing there watching him, her arms enfolded over her very pregnant belly. "Relax. I need you to be calm for me. I don't want you to be possessed by a Mongolian Yak Spirit, but if that's what I have to do to keep you from bolting, I will make that happen."
Chuck decided that his wife wasn't bluffing, and swallowed away his panic. "Ok. I'm ready. I'll go pack up the car."
Sarah smiled. "Have I told you how much I love you?"
"I love you too. Let's go have a baby."
Chuck gathered all of Sarah's things, and left a quick message for his sister. He wasn't sure Ellie could be there for this particular birth, but he figured he needed her support for the sake of his well-being and sanity.
Once the car was full, he returned to the house and helped Sarah into the passenger seat. "Hold on, I forgot one thing," he said, and rushed back into the house.
He headed to the kitchen, and found what he was looking for in the top cabinet. As ready as he was, he still might need something to calm himself. He put the bottle of pickled newt juice into his jacket, and went back outside, ready to become a father.
Well, because this last story was so scary, I'll give you a chance to relax by thinking of calm things.
Something involving Julie Andrews
There. All better?
Anyhow, I should probably point out this was not intended as a spoof of "Bewitched" though it probably bears some similarities. And despite the title, I decided to let Sarah stay "Sarah" (which the show seems to have done as well, probably due to the Shaw plotline backlash).
Well I hope you've enjoyed this little trifecta of terror. Okay, of mild fear. Vague feeling of unease, maybe? Eh, whatever, hopefully these made you chuckle a little bit. Please let me know! I take to reviews like a vampire to blood. Though in a less disgusting, more sanitary way.