Fic: The Wild Hunt (3/10)
Fic: The Wild Hunt (3/10)
Author: pen37
Beta: strangevisitor7
Fandoms: Supernatural, Smallville
Pairing: Chloe/Dean (If you squint)
Rating: Pg
Timeline: For Supernatural: Assumes that everything up to Lazarus Rizing occured. For Smallville: Assumes that Chloe and Jimmy broke it off just before Bride, but that events in Legion occured. Also assumes that Chloe shied away from any relationship with Davis.
Written for the Supernatural Crossover Big Bang at sncross_bigbang
Summary: When an old high school friend contacts Chloe Sullivan about some odd happenings at his job, Chloe agrees to help out -- never realizing that "helping" means wearing a corset. When Sam and Dean check out a disappearance at a Renaissance festival, they don't count on the help of a blonde who knows everything there is to know about paranormal -- but not so much about supernatural. All Renaissance fairs ahve a little magic of their own. But when the magic at this fair goes terribly wrong, it's going to take the three of them combined to solve this case.
Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch. 6, Ch.7, Ch.8, Ch.9, Ch.10
The ringing sound of a hammer on steel greeted Chloe as she walked through the door. She paused to listen to the rhythmic sound, almost like a metronome with a roaring fire as its counterpoint. If not for her high school crush on Orlando Bloom and the many movies in which he played a blacksmith, the smithy would have seemed as foreign as Clark's fortress.
The forge itself seemed to be composed of soot and stone. A charcoal fire blazed in a blackened chimney in one corner. Over it, a bellows hung suspended, ready to stoke the fire with the barest push.
In front of this, the blacksmith stood over a heavy, double-horned anvil hammering a horseshoe into shape.
Chloe took a step through the doorway and kicked over a bowl of milk. With a pang of guilt she watched the white liquid soak into the pine-mulch strewn floor. Somebody's cat was going to go hungry.
Eventually the smith sensed her presence. He turned and regarded her with shrewd eyes.
"Mistress healer,” he nodded in greeting as he sat down his hammer, picked up a set of tongs and slid the red-hot horseshoe into a barrel of water.
Chloe watched in fascination as the shoe sizzled, sending up a plume of smoke before it disappeared into the depths of the barrel.
"Master smith,” Chloe slipped into character the way Chad had instructed at her impromptu lesson in faire life. One minute she was Chloe Sullivan. The next: Cliodhna the healer.
"Are you here to get the ammunition for the war?”
"War?” Chloe drew her eyebrows together in confusion. “What war?”
"This must be your first time at Beltaine,” the smith said. He wiped his hands on his leather apron and then reached into a box that was stacked off to the side behind a stone bench. He withdrew a roll of stickers and handed them to her. “We've sort of got a tradition amongst the performers during the opening weekend. It comes from having a number of us in the business of progressive wealth redistribution.”
"You mean piracy,” Chloe grinned. “So far, between the Vikings, the members of the O'Malley fleet and all the Dread Pirate Roberts wannabes, I've seen about thirty marauders.”
"There is that. But we also have the Gypsies, The visiting French King’s Musketeers, The landsknecht mercenaries, and the militia - who act like they don't get along with anyone. Particularly the former two groups. So we should have some impressive street battles. And then there are the highwaymen and Robin Hood's Merry Men.”
"In tights.”
"Quite so,” the smith returned her smile. “And the Scotsmen border reavers, who are known to steal anything that's not nailed down,” he paused. “Make your own sheep joke.”
"That's just baaaaad,” Chloe giggled.
The smith rolled his eyes. “At any rate, the tradition for the first weekend is a little friendly competition.”
He handed the roll of stickers to her. Each one was a small, white circle with Celtic lettering printed on it in black. She squinted in the faint firelight of the smithy to make out the words. You've been robbed by the pirates.
"They're all different,” the smith said. “The ones for the Gypsies say Gypsies. The highwaymen's say Highwaymen, and so on and so forth. The point is to affix them to the other performers without getting caught. The winning group gets bragging rights.”
"Sounds like fun,” Chloe shrugged. “How do we decide who won?”
“Good Queen Bess will be our arbitrator.”
“Then count me in.” With her investigation, she probably wouldn't have time for skulking around and tagging the rennies. Still, it would help her inquiry if she fit in.
"Good. Since you’re Irish, you've been drafted into the O'Malley pirates.”
"Thanks,” Chloe said as she hung the roll of stickers on the pouch with her coins. “But that wasn't actually what I came here for.”
"Oh no?” The smith leaned back against his anvil. “Then what can I do for ye?”
In response, Chloe lifted the necklace so that he could see it. “I can't get it off.”
He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “How did you get it on?”
"A crazy Gypsy threw it around my neck and told me that it would lead me to my true love.” Chloe rolled her eyes.
"Then maybe you're not supposed to take it off,” he suggested.
"Except that I'm not so much believing in true love.”
"You don't?” He looked at her sadly.
Chloe shrugged. “Love is what you make of it. There's no Romeo and Juliet, insanity at first sight. No one pre-set person that you're destined for. If you want happily ever after, you put real effort into it with a real person.”
"Maybe,” he shrugged. “But it sounds dull without a little magic.”
"Just . . .” Chloe sighed in frustration. “I've had enough magic to last me a lifetime.”
"Okay.” He drew the word out in a sing-song way. As if to say that he didn't agree with her decision, but he would try to help anyway. He stood, and crossed the smithy to examine the necklace. As he held the item in between his fingers, he let out a low whistle. “This looks like a powerful charm.”
"That's what I'm afraid of,” she muttered. “Can you get it off?”
"It feels like beneficial magic,” he said. “You really certain that you want that?”
"I doubt that,” Chloe said. “Especially considering who gave it to me.”
He shrugged. “You're the boss.” He turned back to the forge and brought back a pair of wire cutters. “We'll just nip this chain.” He fitted the necklace into the tool. As he squeezed the apparatus, the fulcrum gave way and the cutters fell apart.
The smith looked at his tools in dismay.
"Rusty?” Chloe asked.
"Maybe.” A frown creased his features. "Okay, we'll try the nippers.” This time he returned with a heavier tool.
Chloe looked at it nervously as he fitted the chain between its teeth.
"Things should be fine,” he said. But as he bore down with the nippers, the tip of one side snapped off with such force that it embedded into the floor. "Okay, that's not normal,” he said.
Chloe grimaced. “I was afraid you would say that.”
"On the bright side, if you're going to have a magic amulet stuck around your neck. Having beneficial magic is good.”
She pursed her lips. “I hope so.”
"Just so your trip isn't a total waste; I just remembered that I did have a gift for you.”
"You did?” Chloe raised an eyebrow. “I don't think you're the true love that this necklace was supposed to guide me to.”
"Ha. No.” He shook his head. “When Chad told me that you were going to be around to investigate the . . .” he waved his hand in the air. “ . . . Bogie feeling in the air, I made up something to help you.”
"That's kind of you. But --”
"No butts,” He said as he picked up a long walking staff and pressed it into her hands. “It's the least I can do. Considering all you're doing for us.”
Chloe blinked at the gnarled wood. The tip was wrapped in leather and capped in metal.
"That's iron on the business end,” the smith said. “Should you ever find yourself in a street brawl; it's perfect for knocking heads about. It's also effective against the bogies.”
"Thank you,” Chloe said in genuine awe.
Before he could say more, a shadow fell across the store. The two of them turned in time to see a pair of patrons wander in.
Chloe shielded her eyes against the bright sunlight streaming in behind their back. As the two patrons drew closer, the shadows fled and their features coalesced into something human.
Each of them seemed to dismiss her in favor of the blacksmith. However, she noticed in their stance that they kept her in the periphery of their vision.
Something niggled at the back of her mind. So she gave into the impulse and studied their features more intently. The taller one reminded her a little of Clark. She decided it was probably the height thing. They both walked like they were trying to seem small and unobtrusive.
The shorter one - she only barely kept herself from inhaling sharply and drawing attention as she realized why her weirdar had gone off. The shorter one was the spitting image of Jason Teague.
Her hand gripped the staff tightly. She was tempted to break it over his head. But the fact that he didn't act like he recognized her clued her in that something was off.
Several possibilities flitted through her mind: He wasn't Jason and it was a bizarre coincidence, he was and he just hadn't recognized her yet, or he did and he was pretending not to.
If it was Jason, he could be behind all the weird things people were sensing around the faire. Or he could be after it, the way he and Genevive were after Clark's crystals.
Her next impulse was to flee but she realized that it would only draw their notice. Instead she backed onto a stone bench at the far end of the smithy. She ducked her head and pretended to sort through her coin bag while listening into the conversation that the two patrons had with the Smith.
"Hi,” The taller one said. Chloe picked up the sticker roll and picked absently at the stickers. Tallboy seemed to be overly chatty with the blacksmith. She risked at glance up and decided that he was overly of the smiley, as well. With lots and lots of teeth. “We're Brian Johnson and Cliff Williams?”
"Aye?” The smith raised an eyebrow. “I'm Angus Young. The healer is Joan Jett. And what might I do for you good gentles this fine morning?”
Chloe ducked her head to hide a grin as Tallboy winced visibly. “Just . . . ah . . . looking around. We were wondering if you could point us to sites of interest.” He stammered.
"'tis a faire, Milords. All sites are of interest.” The Smith said dryly.
"Oh?” Tallboy stuck his hands in his pockets. “Good. . . That's good.”
The Jason look-alike rolled his eyes. “What my idiot brother is trying to say is that he liked Joan’s necklace, and he wanted to know where to get one.” Jason look-alike jerked his thumb in her direction.
In consternation, Chloe ripped a sticker free from the roll. She tried to adopt an air of nonchalance as she calmly sat her things down in the seat next to her. “Twas an unwanted gift, milords.” She adopted Cliodhna’s Irish lilt, hoping that it would be enough to throw might-be-Jason off of her true identity. “Were I could remove it. I would be happy to give it away.”
To her horror, maybe-Jason grinned at her lecherously and then sat down - right on top her things.
"Woah, hey!” He jumped, then reached underneath him and pulled out the coin pouch and roll of stickers. “These belong to you?”
"Aye.” Chloe rolled her eyes. Up close, the resemblance to Jason was uncanny. Green eyes, freckles. Although this guy had a scar or two she didn't remember Jason having.
When he smiled at her Chloe felt her heart speed up. She frowned at that. She'd never been attracted to Jason. He was more Lana's type, for heaven's sake. Then again so was Clark.
This guy also looked a little more blue-collar. She couldn't have imagined wealthy Jason Teague would be caught dead in Redwings, jeans worn to strings and flannel shirts that even Mrs. Kent would throw out.
If it was Jason, he was playing a very convincing part.
"Good,” he put them in her lap. “We were actually talking about the nail-thingy.” He reached out to touch her other necklace and she responded by pulling away. When he frowned at her in confusion, she produced an apologetic smile. “Thine lack of boundaries is most unseemly” she said.
"Huh?” maybe-Jason looked at Tallboy in confusion.
Tallboy frowned as he grasped maybe-Jason's arm, and bodily lifted him out of the seat. “She said that you're invading her personal space.”
"Not me,” the doppelganger replied. “I'm a joy to be around.”
"Right.” Tallboy frowned.
The smith reached into a nearby keg, and pulled out two nails on cords, just like the one Chad had given her earlier. “Free souvenir for all patrons. Do spread the word, milords.”
Tallboy took them, and put one around his neck. “We will.” he said. “So have either of you seen anything . . . strange and unusual?”
Chloe looked at the smith, who rolled his eyes at her. “The gypsies have fire eaters. Stilt walkers.”
"Man in a bear suit,” Chloe added helpfully. “If you would but consult your program, you would find the men of Sherwood do their staff fighting --”
"They would be happy to give you a lesson, lady healer,” the Smith put in.
Chloe nodded at that. “I may take them up on that. Now that I have a staff. Also the chess match, street battles between the Militia and everyone else . . .”
"I think we get the idea,” might-be-Jason grinned at her. “You wouldn't be into personal tours, would you, dollface?”
Tallboy immediately grabbed looks-like-Jason by the shoulder, and hustled him to the door. “Thanks for all your help.” He tossed over his shoulder to them.
As he was pulled from the room, Chloe noticed that a bunch of the stickers had stuck to maybe-Jason's rear. Now, the whole world could see that he'd been robbed by pirates. A lot.
She started to call out to him, and warn him, but thought better of it.
If people are going to be staring at his ass, they may as well have something to read.
Author: pen37
Beta: strangevisitor7
Fandoms: Supernatural, Smallville
Pairing: Chloe/Dean (If you squint)
Rating: Pg
Timeline: For Supernatural: Assumes that everything up to Lazarus Rizing occured. For Smallville: Assumes that Chloe and Jimmy broke it off just before Bride, but that events in Legion occured. Also assumes that Chloe shied away from any relationship with Davis.
Written for the Supernatural Crossover Big Bang at sncross_bigbang
Summary: When an old high school friend contacts Chloe Sullivan about some odd happenings at his job, Chloe agrees to help out -- never realizing that "helping" means wearing a corset. When Sam and Dean check out a disappearance at a Renaissance festival, they don't count on the help of a blonde who knows everything there is to know about paranormal -- but not so much about supernatural. All Renaissance fairs ahve a little magic of their own. But when the magic at this fair goes terribly wrong, it's going to take the three of them combined to solve this case.
Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch. 6, Ch.7, Ch.8, Ch.9, Ch.10
The ringing sound of a hammer on steel greeted Chloe as she walked through the door. She paused to listen to the rhythmic sound, almost like a metronome with a roaring fire as its counterpoint. If not for her high school crush on Orlando Bloom and the many movies in which he played a blacksmith, the smithy would have seemed as foreign as Clark's fortress.
The forge itself seemed to be composed of soot and stone. A charcoal fire blazed in a blackened chimney in one corner. Over it, a bellows hung suspended, ready to stoke the fire with the barest push.
In front of this, the blacksmith stood over a heavy, double-horned anvil hammering a horseshoe into shape.
Chloe took a step through the doorway and kicked over a bowl of milk. With a pang of guilt she watched the white liquid soak into the pine-mulch strewn floor. Somebody's cat was going to go hungry.
Eventually the smith sensed her presence. He turned and regarded her with shrewd eyes.
"Mistress healer,” he nodded in greeting as he sat down his hammer, picked up a set of tongs and slid the red-hot horseshoe into a barrel of water.
Chloe watched in fascination as the shoe sizzled, sending up a plume of smoke before it disappeared into the depths of the barrel.
"Master smith,” Chloe slipped into character the way Chad had instructed at her impromptu lesson in faire life. One minute she was Chloe Sullivan. The next: Cliodhna the healer.
"Are you here to get the ammunition for the war?”
"War?” Chloe drew her eyebrows together in confusion. “What war?”
"This must be your first time at Beltaine,” the smith said. He wiped his hands on his leather apron and then reached into a box that was stacked off to the side behind a stone bench. He withdrew a roll of stickers and handed them to her. “We've sort of got a tradition amongst the performers during the opening weekend. It comes from having a number of us in the business of progressive wealth redistribution.”
"You mean piracy,” Chloe grinned. “So far, between the Vikings, the members of the O'Malley fleet and all the Dread Pirate Roberts wannabes, I've seen about thirty marauders.”
"There is that. But we also have the Gypsies, The visiting French King’s Musketeers, The landsknecht mercenaries, and the militia - who act like they don't get along with anyone. Particularly the former two groups. So we should have some impressive street battles. And then there are the highwaymen and Robin Hood's Merry Men.”
"In tights.”
"Quite so,” the smith returned her smile. “And the Scotsmen border reavers, who are known to steal anything that's not nailed down,” he paused. “Make your own sheep joke.”
"That's just baaaaad,” Chloe giggled.
The smith rolled his eyes. “At any rate, the tradition for the first weekend is a little friendly competition.”
He handed the roll of stickers to her. Each one was a small, white circle with Celtic lettering printed on it in black. She squinted in the faint firelight of the smithy to make out the words. You've been robbed by the pirates.
"They're all different,” the smith said. “The ones for the Gypsies say Gypsies. The highwaymen's say Highwaymen, and so on and so forth. The point is to affix them to the other performers without getting caught. The winning group gets bragging rights.”
"Sounds like fun,” Chloe shrugged. “How do we decide who won?”
“Good Queen Bess will be our arbitrator.”
“Then count me in.” With her investigation, she probably wouldn't have time for skulking around and tagging the rennies. Still, it would help her inquiry if she fit in.
"Good. Since you’re Irish, you've been drafted into the O'Malley pirates.”
"Thanks,” Chloe said as she hung the roll of stickers on the pouch with her coins. “But that wasn't actually what I came here for.”
"Oh no?” The smith leaned back against his anvil. “Then what can I do for ye?”
In response, Chloe lifted the necklace so that he could see it. “I can't get it off.”
He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “How did you get it on?”
"A crazy Gypsy threw it around my neck and told me that it would lead me to my true love.” Chloe rolled her eyes.
"Then maybe you're not supposed to take it off,” he suggested.
"Except that I'm not so much believing in true love.”
"You don't?” He looked at her sadly.
Chloe shrugged. “Love is what you make of it. There's no Romeo and Juliet, insanity at first sight. No one pre-set person that you're destined for. If you want happily ever after, you put real effort into it with a real person.”
"Maybe,” he shrugged. “But it sounds dull without a little magic.”
"Just . . .” Chloe sighed in frustration. “I've had enough magic to last me a lifetime.”
"Okay.” He drew the word out in a sing-song way. As if to say that he didn't agree with her decision, but he would try to help anyway. He stood, and crossed the smithy to examine the necklace. As he held the item in between his fingers, he let out a low whistle. “This looks like a powerful charm.”
"That's what I'm afraid of,” she muttered. “Can you get it off?”
"It feels like beneficial magic,” he said. “You really certain that you want that?”
"I doubt that,” Chloe said. “Especially considering who gave it to me.”
He shrugged. “You're the boss.” He turned back to the forge and brought back a pair of wire cutters. “We'll just nip this chain.” He fitted the necklace into the tool. As he squeezed the apparatus, the fulcrum gave way and the cutters fell apart.
The smith looked at his tools in dismay.
"Rusty?” Chloe asked.
"Maybe.” A frown creased his features. "Okay, we'll try the nippers.” This time he returned with a heavier tool.
Chloe looked at it nervously as he fitted the chain between its teeth.
"Things should be fine,” he said. But as he bore down with the nippers, the tip of one side snapped off with such force that it embedded into the floor. "Okay, that's not normal,” he said.
Chloe grimaced. “I was afraid you would say that.”
"On the bright side, if you're going to have a magic amulet stuck around your neck. Having beneficial magic is good.”
She pursed her lips. “I hope so.”
"Just so your trip isn't a total waste; I just remembered that I did have a gift for you.”
"You did?” Chloe raised an eyebrow. “I don't think you're the true love that this necklace was supposed to guide me to.”
"Ha. No.” He shook his head. “When Chad told me that you were going to be around to investigate the . . .” he waved his hand in the air. “ . . . Bogie feeling in the air, I made up something to help you.”
"That's kind of you. But --”
"No butts,” He said as he picked up a long walking staff and pressed it into her hands. “It's the least I can do. Considering all you're doing for us.”
Chloe blinked at the gnarled wood. The tip was wrapped in leather and capped in metal.
"That's iron on the business end,” the smith said. “Should you ever find yourself in a street brawl; it's perfect for knocking heads about. It's also effective against the bogies.”
"Thank you,” Chloe said in genuine awe.
Before he could say more, a shadow fell across the store. The two of them turned in time to see a pair of patrons wander in.
Chloe shielded her eyes against the bright sunlight streaming in behind their back. As the two patrons drew closer, the shadows fled and their features coalesced into something human.
Each of them seemed to dismiss her in favor of the blacksmith. However, she noticed in their stance that they kept her in the periphery of their vision.
Something niggled at the back of her mind. So she gave into the impulse and studied their features more intently. The taller one reminded her a little of Clark. She decided it was probably the height thing. They both walked like they were trying to seem small and unobtrusive.
The shorter one - she only barely kept herself from inhaling sharply and drawing attention as she realized why her weirdar had gone off. The shorter one was the spitting image of Jason Teague.
Her hand gripped the staff tightly. She was tempted to break it over his head. But the fact that he didn't act like he recognized her clued her in that something was off.
Several possibilities flitted through her mind: He wasn't Jason and it was a bizarre coincidence, he was and he just hadn't recognized her yet, or he did and he was pretending not to.
If it was Jason, he could be behind all the weird things people were sensing around the faire. Or he could be after it, the way he and Genevive were after Clark's crystals.
Her next impulse was to flee but she realized that it would only draw their notice. Instead she backed onto a stone bench at the far end of the smithy. She ducked her head and pretended to sort through her coin bag while listening into the conversation that the two patrons had with the Smith.
"Hi,” The taller one said. Chloe picked up the sticker roll and picked absently at the stickers. Tallboy seemed to be overly chatty with the blacksmith. She risked at glance up and decided that he was overly of the smiley, as well. With lots and lots of teeth. “We're Brian Johnson and Cliff Williams?”
"Aye?” The smith raised an eyebrow. “I'm Angus Young. The healer is Joan Jett. And what might I do for you good gentles this fine morning?”
Chloe ducked her head to hide a grin as Tallboy winced visibly. “Just . . . ah . . . looking around. We were wondering if you could point us to sites of interest.” He stammered.
"'tis a faire, Milords. All sites are of interest.” The Smith said dryly.
"Oh?” Tallboy stuck his hands in his pockets. “Good. . . That's good.”
The Jason look-alike rolled his eyes. “What my idiot brother is trying to say is that he liked Joan’s necklace, and he wanted to know where to get one.” Jason look-alike jerked his thumb in her direction.
In consternation, Chloe ripped a sticker free from the roll. She tried to adopt an air of nonchalance as she calmly sat her things down in the seat next to her. “Twas an unwanted gift, milords.” She adopted Cliodhna’s Irish lilt, hoping that it would be enough to throw might-be-Jason off of her true identity. “Were I could remove it. I would be happy to give it away.”
To her horror, maybe-Jason grinned at her lecherously and then sat down - right on top her things.
"Woah, hey!” He jumped, then reached underneath him and pulled out the coin pouch and roll of stickers. “These belong to you?”
"Aye.” Chloe rolled her eyes. Up close, the resemblance to Jason was uncanny. Green eyes, freckles. Although this guy had a scar or two she didn't remember Jason having.
When he smiled at her Chloe felt her heart speed up. She frowned at that. She'd never been attracted to Jason. He was more Lana's type, for heaven's sake. Then again so was Clark.
This guy also looked a little more blue-collar. She couldn't have imagined wealthy Jason Teague would be caught dead in Redwings, jeans worn to strings and flannel shirts that even Mrs. Kent would throw out.
If it was Jason, he was playing a very convincing part.
"Good,” he put them in her lap. “We were actually talking about the nail-thingy.” He reached out to touch her other necklace and she responded by pulling away. When he frowned at her in confusion, she produced an apologetic smile. “Thine lack of boundaries is most unseemly” she said.
"Huh?” maybe-Jason looked at Tallboy in confusion.
Tallboy frowned as he grasped maybe-Jason's arm, and bodily lifted him out of the seat. “She said that you're invading her personal space.”
"Not me,” the doppelganger replied. “I'm a joy to be around.”
"Right.” Tallboy frowned.
The smith reached into a nearby keg, and pulled out two nails on cords, just like the one Chad had given her earlier. “Free souvenir for all patrons. Do spread the word, milords.”
Tallboy took them, and put one around his neck. “We will.” he said. “So have either of you seen anything . . . strange and unusual?”
Chloe looked at the smith, who rolled his eyes at her. “The gypsies have fire eaters. Stilt walkers.”
"Man in a bear suit,” Chloe added helpfully. “If you would but consult your program, you would find the men of Sherwood do their staff fighting --”
"They would be happy to give you a lesson, lady healer,” the Smith put in.
Chloe nodded at that. “I may take them up on that. Now that I have a staff. Also the chess match, street battles between the Militia and everyone else . . .”
"I think we get the idea,” might-be-Jason grinned at her. “You wouldn't be into personal tours, would you, dollface?”
Tallboy immediately grabbed looks-like-Jason by the shoulder, and hustled him to the door. “Thanks for all your help.” He tossed over his shoulder to them.
As he was pulled from the room, Chloe noticed that a bunch of the stickers had stuck to maybe-Jason's rear. Now, the whole world could see that he'd been robbed by pirates. A lot.
She started to call out to him, and warn him, but thought better of it.
If people are going to be staring at his ass, they may as well have something to read.