Visiting Smallville: 6b/21
Pete pulled over and Chloe got out the car, mumbling angrily. “Who does Clark Kent think he is?” she asked Pete, who shrugged, gathering the papers from the back seat. “I can’t believe he stood us up.”
Pete nodded, slinging his free arm round her shoulders as they entered the Kent Barn. Chloe smiled, walking up the wooden stairs.
“Clark, we got your message.” she said, watching him stare out of his window.
“Where were you?” Pete asked calmly. “What happened? I thought we were all supposed to meet at the Torch.”
Clark smiled apologetically, “I’m sorry.” His eyes widened into his puppy-dog face. “I didn’t mean to blow off you guys.”
Chloe shook her head, still annoyed. “Will the lovely Miss Lang be joining us?” she asked.
“No.” Clark smiled at her. “I think she had enough weirdness for one day.” He pointed to the papers under Pete’s arm. “What’ve you got?”
“A guy was found dead in his house. He was blindfolded and strangled with a piano wire.” Pete read, gulping.
“Which is the same signature Harry Volk used in 1945.” Chloe added, snatching the paper from Pete and handing it to Clark.
“Sounds like a copy-cat.” Clark said.
“A copy-cat of murder that happened 60 years ago, two days after the original killer happened to disappear? I don’t think so.”
“Harry’s in a wheelchair.” Clark told her. “Not exactly in prime condition to go on a crime spree.”
Chloe rolled her eyes, ready to tell Clark the theory she’d been working on since she discovered that the missing man was an old murderer. She pulled a yellowing page from under Pete’s arm. Clark grabbed his jacket and then the paper, studying it.
“It looks like the kid we saw in the Beanery.” Clark said, surprised, showing the picture to Pete.
“Maybe he’s got a grandson or something.”
“Or…” Chloe paused, watching the boys carefully. “Maybe it’s Harry.”
“I don’t think we should start looking for time machines just yet.” Clark smiled.
“Ok, fine. Where do you think we should start?”
“If someone is following in Harry’s footsteps, maybe they sent him some fan mail.”
Chloe grinned, following them to Pete’s car and climbing in. Pete smiled, pulling away from the Kent farm and speeding to the retirement centre.
They got out the car and walked into the centre, stopping to look around.
“What happens if someone sees us searching Harry’s room?” she asked, worried and Clark glanced at her.
“How about we don’t get seen?” Clark decided, preparing to head to his room.
“Clark, is that you?” someone called and Chloe grimaced, turning to see an old woman waving at Clark. Clark smiled and Chloe shot him a confused expression.
“Harry’s room is down the hallway.” Clark told them, pointing them in the right direction.
Chloe and Pete walked away, hoping they found the right room, when Chloe’s phone rang. She tensed, checking the caller id.
“Pete,” she instructed. “I have to take this. If you find anything, call me.” Pete stared at her. “I shouldn’t be too long.”
Pete nodded slowly, walking away and Chloe ducked into an empty room, locking the door.
“Dean?” she asked. “Hi.”
“Chloe, do you know what we do?” he asked, sounding worried.
“You investigate things.” she said. “I don’t know what you investigate but you travel round America and end up in weird situations with dead psychiatrists affecting your minds.”
“Right…” he paused. “We hunt things.”
“Hunt?” Chloe asked. “Hunt what?”
“Ghosts, demons, evil things.” Dean said, sounding nervous about telling her. Chloe froze.
“The supernatural?” she asked, quietly, unsure about how to react. Half of her wanted to hang up; the other half believed him and kept reminding her of her theory that a 77 year old man had suddenly become young again. “Right…”
She heard Dean exhale in relief. “And I need your help.”
“Wait.” she said suddenly. “So, Ellicott, you were trying to get rid of his spirit. And you’re in Burkitsville doing…”
“That’s exactly it Chloe.” Dean said. “We have a scarecrow killing couples.”
Chloe dropped her phone, cursed and picked it up again. “Like staying still and killing couples or like an evil version of the scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz.”
“Wizard of Oz one. But a lot fuglier.” Dean said and Chloe’s eyes widened.
“The scarecrow climbed off its cross?”
“Yeah, I’m telling you.” Dean said and Chloe listened in shock. “Burkitsville, Indiana. Fun town.”
“Is that what’s been killing the couples?” she asked. “Was there a couple there?”
“No.” Dean sighed. “I can cope without Sam you know.”
“So what?” Chloe felt uncomfortable. This wasn’t her normal thing. “Something could have animated it?”
“Yeah.” Dean laughed. “Considering you haven’t done this before, you’re doing well.”
“I’m a reporter.” Chloe said. “A spirit?”
“It’s more than a spirit.” Dean sighed. “It’s a god, a Pagan God.”
Chloe’s jaw dropped. “Dean, meteor rocks are my thing, not gods.”
*
Sam’s phone rung and he grimaced, thinking that it was probably Dean. He glanced at Meg before holding up one finger then answering it, walking outside.
“Hi Sam.”
“Chloe?” His eyes widened before he frowned. “Look, don’t tell me you’ve called to ask me to go back to Burkitsville again.”
There was silence. “Dean told me to call you.”
Sam rolled his eyes. Leave it to Dean to use Chloe as the messenger. “Why?”
“It’s about the hunt.”
“You know?” Sam asked, eyes wide. “Did Dean tell you?”
“Yeah.” Chloe sounded confused. “I only believed him because I’ve heard you say some weird things, and I’ve heard you being attacked by a dead psychiatrist. I’ve seen my share of weird things; I just didn’t know it was just as weird outside Smallville.”
“Chloe… you don’t need to do this.” Sam said.
“I love weird things.” Chloe said, “I’m not going to start hunting weird things. Meteor freaks are enough for me - hearing your stories freak me out enough, I’d prefer not to be in the middle of it.”
Sam laughed slightly.
“Dean told me to tell you that it’s a Pagan God.”
“What makes him say that?” Sam asked.
“The annual cycle of its killings.” Chloe said, sounding like she was reading something to him. “The fact that the victims are always a man and a woman, like some kind of … fertility rite.” She laughed nervously. “And Dean said that they treated this couple like they were fattening them up for Christmas Dinner.”
“The last meal.” Sam said. “Given to sacrificial victims.”
“Dean thinks it’s a ritual sacrifice to appease some Pagan God. The god possesses the scarecrow…”
Sam interrupted. “Scarecrow?”
“Oh yeah, Dean thinks the god is animating the scarecrow so it becomes like an evil Wizard of Oz style scarecrow.”
“What, sings and dances?”
“It gets down from its cross. Then it takes its sacrifice. For another year, the crops won’t wilt and disease won’t spread.”
“Do you know what god it is?”
“No, not yet.” Chloe sighed. “I need to research it but I’ve been a bit busy hunting down a murderer.”
Sam chose to ignore that. “Well, if you figure out what it is, Dean can figure out a way to kill it.”
“I know. Dean’s told me to call the local community college to talk to a professor. He said that he didn’t have his trusty sidekick geek boy to do the research so he’d have to get me to do it.”
“You know, if he’s hinting he needs my help, he just needs to ask.”
“I don’t know if he’s willing to admit that.” Chloe laughed. “But I’m sure your help would be appreciated.”
“Chloe?” Sam asked. “When I’ve found dad, I’ll come back to Smallville.”
Sam didn’t know if Chloe heard him, because suddenly she was panicking. “Sorry, Sam, Pete wants me.” Sam frowned. “I have to go, see you later!”
Then she hung up and Sam walked back inside. Meg was sitting alone, waiting for him.
“Who was that?” she asked.
“Chloe.” Sam smiled slightly and Meg glanced at him in shock.
“Chloe?” she asked.
“Never mind.”
*
Chloe finally entered Harry’s room, spotting Pete halfway under the bed.
“Find anything?” she asked, picking up a large box from the bed and beginning to rifle through it.
“Who were you talking to?” Pete asked, his voice muffled.
“Sam.” she said. “Dean and him are investigating something in Indiana.”
“What?”
“They may be my friends, but that doesn’t mean that they tell me their investigating business.” she laughed.
Chloe laughed as she heard Pete mutter something along the lines of ‘They’re too old to be your friends’ before coming out from under the bed and turning to the dresser drawers.
“Pete,” she sighed. “Sam’s only twenty. That’s a year younger than Lex, Clark’s other best friend, and yeah, Dean’s twenty-four, but… he’s cool.”
Pete rolled his eyes, looking unhappy at the mention of her and Clark’s other friends. Chloe was going to tell him not to be jealous when Clark entered the room.
“You guys have any luck?” he asked and Pete shot an angry look at Chloe, clearly blaming her for their lack of success.
“No fan mail.” Chloe said. “Just a bunch of old news clippings from The Smallville Ledger… obituaries, articles.”
She pulled a handful out of the box and handed them to Clark.
“The guy’s been obsessed with Smallville for 50 years.” added Pete.
Clark didn’t say anything, and just frowned at the article he was reading.
“Clark, is something wrong?” Chloe asked.
“It’s her.” Clark whispered and Chloe glanced at Pete in confusion.
“It’s who?”
“I got to go.”
Clark ran out the room, Pete and Chloe trying to keep up with him. He turned a corner in front of them and by the time Chloe had rounded it, he was gone.
She stopped, panting, before turning to Pete.
“Where has he gone?”
*
“I don’t need your help.” Dean’s voice crackled through the speaker of Sam’s phone. “Actually, I want you to know … I mean, don’t think…”
Sam frowned, listening to his brother. “I’m sorry too.”
“Sam. You were right.” Dean said suddenly. “You have to do your own thing. You got to live your life.”
“You serious?” Sam asked, staring at his phone in shock. “Did Chloe put you up to this?”
“You’ve always known what you want, and you go after it.” Dean said his voice quiet. “You stand up to Dad, and you always have. Hell, I wish … anyway, I admire that about you. I’m proud of you, Sammy.”
Sam’s eyes widened. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“Say you’ll take of yourself.”
“I will.”
“Call me when you find dad.”
Sam looked down before speaking. “Ok. Bye Dean.” he paused. “If you see Chloe, tell her I’m sorry.”
There was silence. “Yeah…” Sam could feel Dean grinning. “And I’ll say you miss her.”
“Dean!”
He had hung up. Sam looked round the large station, noting when Meg stirred, opening her eyes to stare at him.
“And who was that?” she asked, her voice filled with sleep.
“My brother.”
“What’d he say?”
Sam looked away from her, his grip on the phone tightening. “Goodbye.”
*
Chloe sat in the Torch office, the phone by her ear, as she waited for the Burkitsville Professor to pick up the phone.
She frowned, wondering why Dean couldn’t have done it himself. Her computer was on, displaying various pictures from a well-known text book.
He picked up and she started.
“Hello?” she asked. “Oh, hi, I’m Chloe Sullivan, and I’m considering studying … pagan gods … at your college in the following year.”
“Oh really?” the professor asked.
“Yeah, I just was wondering what you looked at regarding … wood gods.” Chloe knew that she was lying very badly. She flicked through the pictures on screen.
“Wood gods?” he asked. “Well, let’s see.”
She clicked one more time and an old black and white image appeared on the screen. “Wait,” she murmured, zooming in to see the drawing of the scarecrow. “What’s a Vanir?”
“That’s not a wood god.” The Professor said. “In the text book it says that the Vanir were Norse gods of protection and prosperity, keeping their local settlements safe from harm. Some villages build effigies of Vanir in their fields whilst others practiced human sacrifice.”
“One male and one female?” she asked. “I have a picture up on my computer… it looks like a scarecrow.”
“I suppose.”
“It says underneath it that most Vanir gain their energy from a sacred tree.”
The Professor laughed. “Well, Pagans believed all sorts of things were infused with magic.”
“So what if the sacred tree was torched? Do you think it would … kill the god?”
“These are just legends we’re discussing.” The Professor laughed.
“Of course. Thank you so much.” Chloe simpered down the phone. “Your course sounds so interesting. I hope to see you next year.”
“Glad I could help.”
She hung up, grabbing her mobile and texting Dean everything she knew.
*
Dean read Chloe’s text, grinning, before he deleted it. “Right.” he said. “Torch the sacred tree.”
He grimaced. “That’ll be fun.”
He grabbed the room keys and stepped out; hoping for a coffee, when he felt something hit the back of his head and everything went dark.
*
Meg came bounding into the station, a grin across her face. Sam smiled back, realising the bus had arrived.
He stood up, grabbing his bag then pausing. His phone was ringing. He looked at Meg, before answering it.
“Chloe?” he asked,
“Thank god.” she breathed. “Sam, I’ve called Dean 15 times in the last three hours and he hasn’t picked up. I keep getting his voicemail. He never has his phone off.”
“I’m sure he’s fine.”
“I texted him 3 hours ago with all the important info for this hunt. He hasn’t replied and he always has his phone on him when he’s hunting.”
“I’ll try him.” She hung up and Sam quickly called Dean, ignoring Meg’s exasperated look. Dean didn’t pick up and Sam swore.
“Hey.” Meg said suddenly. “Our bus came in.”
Sam nearly rolled his eyes. “You better catch it.” he told her. “I gotta go.”
“Go where?”
“Burkitsville.”
“Sam.” she said. “Wait.”
Sam turned, suddenly worried and frustrated. “Chloe’s been trying to call my brother for the last three hours and she’s just getting his voicemail.”
“Well, maybe his phone’s turned off or Chloe’s just trying to make you one big happy family again.”
“No, I tried his phone. Meg, I think he might be in trouble.”
Meg stared at him. “What kind of trouble?”
“I can’t explain now. I’m sorry, look; I don’t want you to miss the bus.”
“But I don’t understand.” Meg said slowly. “You’re running back to your brother? The guy you ran away from? Why, because some girl, sorry, I mean Chloe, says he won’t pick up? Come to California.”
“I can’t.” Sam shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
“Why not?”
“He’s my family.”
Sam walked away.
*
Clark pretended to ignore how tight Chloe’s grip was on the mouse, or how often she looked at her mobile phone.
She sighed, and he looked at her intently. She caught his eye and looked up. “This is everything I could find on Harry Volk. The Ledger carried stories on the trial, the murder, the investigation… you name it.”
“Is anybody watching this guy?”
“Lana’s got an eye on him.”Clark told them. Chloe snorted, having absolutely no confidence in Lana. “I heard that.”
“What exactly are we looking for?” Pete asked.
“I dunno. There’s got to be a connection between the people Harry’s going after.”
Chloe glanced at her phone again. “In Zoë Garfield’s statement to the police, she said that harry accused her grandmother of killing his future.”
Clark frowned, sitting down next to Chloe as Lana entered the room, looking flustered. “Harry’s gone.” she said, scared. “They found his wheelchair out by the koi pond half an hour ago.”
Clark tensed, turning to look at Chloe. “I saw meteor rocks in that pond.”
“At least now we know how he’s doing the time warp.” Chloe said.
“What do you mean?” asked Lana.
“I’ll explain later.” Clark brushed her off and turned back to Chloe. “We have to figure out who he’s going to kill next.”
Chloe nodded, reading through a few articles. “Clark,” she said suddenly, concerned as she saw Hiram Kent’s name listed alongside the ancestors of the more recent victims. “Take a look at this.”
“What is it?”
Chloe handed him the old issue. “It’s a list of the jurors who worked on Harry’s trial.”
Clark nodded, reading from it. “Rudolph Gage, Eve Garfield…” he looked up in shock. “He’s killing the descendents of the jurors that convicted him.”
“Talk about not letting go.” Pete piped up.
Clark’s eyes widened as he studied the list, his grip tightening.
“Clark, what is it?” Lana asked and he looked at her.
“Look at juror number eleven.”
He handed Lana the paper and she read it quickly. “Hiram Kent. Wasn’t that your grandfather?”
“Harry’s going to kill my dad.” Clark gasped, turning and running out the room. Chloe’s eyes widened as Lana and Pete followed him. She grasped her phone in her hand, hoping that Clark, Jonathan, Sam and Dean would all be alright.
*
Dean woke up to darkness, and the sound of repeated ‘I don’t understand’s. He turned, hoping he knew the girl who was worrying.
“Emily?” he asked and she stopped whimpering.
“They’re going to kill us.” she stated, choking.
“Sacrifice us. Which is, you know, classier, I guess?” he said, not really bothering to sugar-coat it now. “You didn’t really know anything about this, did you?”
“About what? The scarecrow god? I can’t believe this.”
“Well, you better start believing it.” Dean told her, and her eyes widened. “Because I’m going to need your help.”
“Okay.” she nodded slightly.
“Now, we can destroy the scarecrow.” Dean said, thanking god that he’d got Chloe’s text in time. “But we gotta find the tree.”
“What tree?”
“Maybe you can help me with that.” Dean said. “It would be really old. The locals would treat it with a lot of respect, you know, like it was sacred.”
Emily looked at him in shock. “There was this one tree. The immigrants brought it over with them. They call it the first tree.”
“Is it in the orchard?”
“Yeah. I don’t know where.”
Dean grimaced, watching as the cellar opened and four elders came in, one of them being Emily’s aunt.
“It’s time.” she said.
Soon enough, Dean found himself eye to eye with the sheriff as he was tied to the tree. “How many people have you killed Sheriff?” he snarled. “How much blood is on your hands?”
“We don’t kill them.” said the sheriff.
“No, but you sure cover up after. I mean, how many cars have you hidden, clothes have you buried?”
The sheriff walked away, while Emily tried to beg with the man that was tying her up.
“Uncle Harley, please.” She sobbed.
“I am so sorry, Em.” he said. “I wish it wasn’t you.”
“Try to understand.” said her aunt. “It’s our responsibility. And there’s just no other choice. There’s nobody else but you.”
“I’m family.” Emily whispered.
“Sweetheart, that’s what sacrifice means. Giving up something you love for the greater good.” Dean snorted. “The town needs to be safe. The good of many outweighs the good of the one.”
They started to walk away and Dean frowned, shouting after them. “I hope your freaking apple pie’s worth it.”
“So, what’s the plan?” Emily asked quietly and Dean stared at her in shock.
“I’m working on it.”
*
“You don’t have a plan, do you?”
Dean panicked, trying to keep the scarecrow within his eyesight. “I’m working on it.” he said, worried. “Can you see?”
“What?”
“Is he moving yet?”
“I can’t see.” Emily said, noticing a shadow moving near the trees. “Oh my god.” she whispered, as it moved closer, not noticing Dean trying to untie his rope. “Oh my god!” she screamed as Sam came out from behind the tree.
“Dean?”
Dean grinned. “Oh! I take back everything I said. I’m so happy to see you.” Sam raised an eyebrow. “Come on.” Sam smiled, going to untie Dean. “How’d you get here?”
“Chloe called me and I- uh - I stole a car.”
“That’s my boy!” Dean smiled, standing up and directing Sam over to Emily. “And keep an eye on that scarecrow. He could come alive any minute.”
“What scarecrow?”
Dean turned, and cursed. The post was empty.
He helped Sam pull up Emily, and then they ran.
“Alright, now, this scared tree you’re talking about….” Sam panted.
“It’s the source of power.”
“So let’s find it and burn it.”
“In the morning.” Dean told Sam, pulling Emily along with them. “Let’s just run before Leather Face catches up.”
They reached a clearing and stopped, the elders and townspeople surrounding them. Emily stepped in front of the brothers.
“Please, let us go.” she begged.
“It’ll be over quickly.” Harley told her. “I promise.”
“Please.”
“Emily, you have to let him take you. You have to-“
Suddenly, the scarecrow thrust his sickle into Harley’s stomach. The girls screamed, Emily running into Dean’s arms. Soon her aunt was captured and it dragged her away. The rest of the townspeople ran away in fright.
Dean let go of Emily, sharing an annoyed look with Sam. “Come on, let’s go.”
*
Sam put the gasoline down by the tree, examining the mark on it. He looked at Dean, who nodded. Sam picked up the gasoline, pouring it over the tree. Dean grabbed a stick, lighting it and handing it to Emily.
She smiled.
“You know the whole town’s going to die.” Dean told her.
“Good.” she threw the branch on to the tree and they stood back, watching it go up in flames.
*
Dean waved as Emily got onto the bus and then he leaned against the car, watching it leave.
“Think she’s going to be alright?” Sam asked.
“I hope so.” Dan grinned.
“And the rest of the townspeople, they’ll just get away with it?”
“Well, what’ll happen to the town will have to be punishment enough.” Dean opened the door, climbing into the driver’s seat. “So can I drop you off somewhere?”
“No, I think you’re stuck with me.”
Dean grinned. “What made you change your mind?”
“I didn’t.” Sam frowned. “I still want to find dad. And you’re still a pain in the ass.” Dean nodded. “But Jess and mom, they’re both gone. Dad is god know where. You and me. We’re all that’s left. So, if we’re going to see this through, we’re going to do this together.”
“Hold me, Sam.” Dean simpered. “That was beautiful.” He laid a hand on Sam’s shoulder, laughing as Sam whacked it away.
“You should be kissing my ass, you were dead meat dude.”
“Yeah, right. I had a plan.” Dean smirked “I’d have gotten out.”
“Right.” Sam laughed, Dean pulled away from the bus stop, starting up Iron Maiden and tapping along with the beat. “So, where we going?”
Dean glanced at Sam. “I was thinking Smallville.”
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