Fic: League of Extrordinary Winchesters (Part the Second)
Fic: League of Extrordinary Winchesters (Part the Second)
Series: Chance Winchesterverse
Summary: Before Chance and Ben can start out on their grand world-saving time travel adventure, they need to take care of a few details.
Author: pen37
Beta: None.
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters: Chance, Ben, Jack-Jack
Rating: pg-13 for Ben's language.
Written for spawnfic_tues
Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8, Ch. 9, Ch. 10
A/N: I'm going with Smallville Canon that Metropolis is between 70 and 100 miles from Smallville. In Superman Comics, Smallville is in Kansas and Metropolis is on the east coast, somewhere between Washington DC and New York City.
By Chance’s estimation, if they could walk fifty miles a day, they would make it from Smallville to Metropolis in two days. Three tops.
If they could find Ben some clothes. And some decent walking shoes.
“Fuck that!”Ben said. “What about riding a stage coach?”
“With what money?” Chance looked at him pointedly. “People won’t use plastic for another hundred years. “
Ben seemed to deflate at that. Then he suddenly brightened.
“Forget it.” Chance said. He could easily read Ben’s suggestion in his eyes, and no good could come of it.
“But-“
“They hang people for horse thievery. We’re walking.”
Ben pouted at that. For a second there, Chance was gleeful to see how much his brother looked like Dad when Mom wouldn’t let him have the last Ice Cream Sammich. But then he felt a stab of homesickness, and decided that Ben’s expression wasn’t that cool after all.
“You really think we can walk 50 miles in a day?” Ben asked.
Chance shrugged. “President Kennedy said that everyone should be in shape enough to do it.”
“Yeah, but President Kennedy never sat on the couch watching Wrestlemania with a bag of chezpuffs.”
“Wrestlemania? That what they call it these days.” Chance rolled his eyes. “ ‘cause I would swear that you were watching Casa Erotica and playing with your joystick.”
“Shaddup,” Ben frowned.
“You shaddup, short buss.”
“You’re the short buss, short buss.”
“Clever.” Chance noted.
“Whatever,” Ben crossed his arms and rubbed his biceps to keep them warm. “What are we going to do to get me clothed?”
“I’m working on it.” Chance said.
“Well work harder.”
Chance sat on a big rock that jutted out from the side of the road, and struck a thinking pose. While he sat there, Ben paced in front of him. Occasionally, the older of the two brothers would step on a sharp rock and hobble. After a few minutes of this, he turned and made a face at Chance. “You about done thinking?”
Chance grinned at him. “Actually, I’ve already got a solution. I just wanted to see how long you would pace like an idiot. It’s kind of funny.”
“I hate you.” Ben said.
“Just for that, I’m not going to get you any clothes.”
“Well, hate is kind of a strong word. Mildly lothe in that brotherly kind of way.” Ben scratched his head sheepishly.
Chance smiled at that, stood and slugged Ben’s shoulder. Then he bit his lip in concentration. Within minutes, Jack Jack crawled out from behind the boulder. The puppy looked a bit confused as to how he’d been brought up from the infernal pits of hell, so Chance assumed that he’d brought back a younger version of the dog.
“Holy shit! You can still summon him?”
“Guess so,” Chance reached his hand out for Jack Jack to sniff.
The dog took his scent, and then settled to wait on orders. Chance assumed that his dog was expecting him to command the slaughter of infants or the blood of virgins. So for a half of a second, Jack Jack looked startled when he instead scratched behind his hellbeast’s ears. But then he shut his glowing red eyes and leaned into Chance’s touch.
“Or maybe this is the first time I’ve summoned him,” Chance said thoughtfully. “That might explain how he recognized me when I was a baby. He already knew me.”
“Might explain why he didn’t eat your face off, since he is a hell beast.” Ben muttered. He said nothing about how much of a lucky coincidence that was, since noting lucky coincidences around chance was like standing in a downpour and saying: ‘Ah! I see that it’s raining!’
“Irish wolfhound,” Chance corrected absently as he sent a mental order to Jack Jack.
The dog stood, and trotted away.
“Where’d you send him?” Ben asked.
“He’s going to go find a farmstead, and pull some clothing off the clothesline for us.”
“Us?”
Chance guestured to his own clothing, which consisted of jeans, sneakers and a Thin Lizzie t-shirt. “You really think that I blend like this?”
“You have a point.” Ben said.
Before long, Jack Jack returned dragging a pair of pants. He dropped them, and took off again. Several more trips produced a second pair of pants, two shirts, two pair of shoes, two coats and two hats. All of which fit perfectly.
“Good dog,” Chance scratched Jack Jack’s ears again. The puppy looked pleased. He licked at Chance’s hands, and then trotted back around the thinking rock and vanished.
“Very handy dog,” Ben said in agreement. “But when we get to a town, he maybe ought to stay . . . wherever it is he goes. If they hang a person for stealing horses, I hate to think what they do to a person for summoning . . . Irish Wolfhounds.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Chance muttered.
The two of them dressed quickly, and then started walking at a brisk pace.
“Walking song?” Ben asked.
“Walking song.” Chance agreed.
Mush a ring dum a doo dum a da
Whack for my daddy'o
Whack for my daddy'o, there's
Whisky in the jar, o
A/N 2: The song that Chance and Ben were singing was Whisky in the Jar, which is a traditional irish ballad that was hardened by the irish metal band Thin Lizzy, and then later covered by Metallica. It seemed like something that a Spawn like Chance would like.