Fic: It's a Wide World (1/1)
It's A Wide World (1/1)
By: Pen37
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine. No money. All in fun.
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters: Sam, Chloe, Dean
Pairing: Chloe/Dean
Series: big, bad demon-whomping blade of evil
Summary: The last installment of the Evil Blade series. Dean is still looking after the ones he loves.
Written for the Crossovers100 challenge. Prompt #78 Sea The table is here.
This is part of my evil blade series.
The previous stories in this series are:
Broken
Paint it Black
High Hunt
Bloodcircle
Bloodsoul
Or It Could Have Gone Down Like this (AU Broken)
A/N: I never expected to write more than just one story. But after I had Broken down on paper, the plot bunnies wouldn't leave me alone. The rest of this spilled out in under a week. I mean to have it all posted sooner. But then Special Projects got in the way. For the sake of the story, I'm assuming that Ellen rebuilds the Roadhouse.
Ellen had a voice like aged whiskey - honey smooth with bite to it. Dean hadn't realized that he missed hearing it until he called her for possibly the last time.
“Roadhouse, this is Ellen.”
“It's Dean.”
“Dean Winchester.” Ellen let out a throaty chuckle. “Long time.”
“I know,” he said sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand in an old familiar gesture. “Sam and I have been busy with --” Healing Chloe. Making sure that Sam is mentally sound after reading that book. Trying to figure out this Siamese-soul thing that Chloe and I have. “Stuff.”
“Don't say a word, Dean,” Ellen's voice held a note of warning. “There've been feds here asking after you. I can't tell them what I don't know.” Which probably meant that she thought the feds had bugged the line.
Dean wasn't too worried. He, Sammy and Chloe were on a yacht in the middle of the Atlantic, courtesy Chloe's friend Oliver Queen. Even if the Feds could track the phone call through the satellite and back to them, which he doubted, they were in international waters. Which made even trying to apprehend him real interesting.
He stood, and started pacing the tiny cabin that he and Chloe shared. For a man raised in a vagabond lifestyle, seeing the same four walls day after day was unnerving. Although technically they were constantly moving on the back of the wind, he felt restless.
“I was just calling to let you know that Sam and I are fine - but you may not hear from us for a while.” Or ever again, though Dean didn't really want to close that door forever.
“And your reporter friend?” Ellen's voice was subdued, as if she were afraid that she was bringing up a sensitive subject. “The one who had all those demons running scared?”
He left off his pacing to stare out the cabin at his brother and girlfriend. Both were sprawled across deck chairs in poses of utter relaxation. He smiled at the tranquil picture that his little family made, and mentally reached down the threads that bound his soul to Chloe's. The complete contentment that he felt there helped to calm his own restless spirit.
He was happy to note that his girl was looking better. Her sunshine-bright smile was back, and her eyes no longer looked haunted. She'd become a little bit more antsy, and he'd lost some of his least attractive eating habits. But he thought that might be from where their souls were patchworked together.
They were still trying to understand what it meant to be joined-at-the-soul. But unlike Sam and Chloe, he wasn't too worried about the intricacies of it. As long as he didn't wake up with a pair of boobs, it was all good. What mattered was that it kept her alive. If it tied him to Chloe for the rest of eternity, then he couldn't think of a better way to spend his eternity.
Now that her energy wasn't wasted in trying to keep a parasite blade from taking over her soul, she was actually starting to put weight back on. She still hadn't completely regained her womanly curves, but at least he could make love to her without fear of breaking her - something that he thought about more than usual on a slowly rocking ship with nothing better to do.
“She's better,” he settled on sharing. “We're all taking care of each other.”
“You do that, Dean.” Ellen said. “And if I don't hear from you again - be well.”
“You too,” he hung up the phone, and strolled lazily out onto the deck. The ocean spread out as far as the eye could see in any direction, vast and wide and filled with salt. He felt safe enough surrounded by that to lower his guard, and relax.
Chloe was still months away from her old self - but Dean thought that when she was, they might head on over to Transylvania. He'd heard there were plenty of things up in those mountains to keep three hunters busy for a good while. At least long enough for the feds to lose interest in them. After that - who knew?
By: Pen37
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine. No money. All in fun.
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters: Sam, Chloe, Dean
Pairing: Chloe/Dean
Series: big, bad demon-whomping blade of evil
Summary: The last installment of the Evil Blade series. Dean is still looking after the ones he loves.
Written for the Crossovers100 challenge. Prompt #78 Sea The table is here.
This is part of my evil blade series.
The previous stories in this series are:
Broken
Paint it Black
High Hunt
Bloodcircle
Bloodsoul
Or It Could Have Gone Down Like this (AU Broken)
A/N: I never expected to write more than just one story. But after I had Broken down on paper, the plot bunnies wouldn't leave me alone. The rest of this spilled out in under a week. I mean to have it all posted sooner. But then Special Projects got in the way. For the sake of the story, I'm assuming that Ellen rebuilds the Roadhouse.
Ellen had a voice like aged whiskey - honey smooth with bite to it. Dean hadn't realized that he missed hearing it until he called her for possibly the last time.
“Roadhouse, this is Ellen.”
“It's Dean.”
“Dean Winchester.” Ellen let out a throaty chuckle. “Long time.”
“I know,” he said sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand in an old familiar gesture. “Sam and I have been busy with --” Healing Chloe. Making sure that Sam is mentally sound after reading that book. Trying to figure out this Siamese-soul thing that Chloe and I have. “Stuff.”
“Don't say a word, Dean,” Ellen's voice held a note of warning. “There've been feds here asking after you. I can't tell them what I don't know.” Which probably meant that she thought the feds had bugged the line.
Dean wasn't too worried. He, Sammy and Chloe were on a yacht in the middle of the Atlantic, courtesy Chloe's friend Oliver Queen. Even if the Feds could track the phone call through the satellite and back to them, which he doubted, they were in international waters. Which made even trying to apprehend him real interesting.
He stood, and started pacing the tiny cabin that he and Chloe shared. For a man raised in a vagabond lifestyle, seeing the same four walls day after day was unnerving. Although technically they were constantly moving on the back of the wind, he felt restless.
“I was just calling to let you know that Sam and I are fine - but you may not hear from us for a while.” Or ever again, though Dean didn't really want to close that door forever.
“And your reporter friend?” Ellen's voice was subdued, as if she were afraid that she was bringing up a sensitive subject. “The one who had all those demons running scared?”
He left off his pacing to stare out the cabin at his brother and girlfriend. Both were sprawled across deck chairs in poses of utter relaxation. He smiled at the tranquil picture that his little family made, and mentally reached down the threads that bound his soul to Chloe's. The complete contentment that he felt there helped to calm his own restless spirit.
He was happy to note that his girl was looking better. Her sunshine-bright smile was back, and her eyes no longer looked haunted. She'd become a little bit more antsy, and he'd lost some of his least attractive eating habits. But he thought that might be from where their souls were patchworked together.
They were still trying to understand what it meant to be joined-at-the-soul. But unlike Sam and Chloe, he wasn't too worried about the intricacies of it. As long as he didn't wake up with a pair of boobs, it was all good. What mattered was that it kept her alive. If it tied him to Chloe for the rest of eternity, then he couldn't think of a better way to spend his eternity.
Now that her energy wasn't wasted in trying to keep a parasite blade from taking over her soul, she was actually starting to put weight back on. She still hadn't completely regained her womanly curves, but at least he could make love to her without fear of breaking her - something that he thought about more than usual on a slowly rocking ship with nothing better to do.
“She's better,” he settled on sharing. “We're all taking care of each other.”
“You do that, Dean.” Ellen said. “And if I don't hear from you again - be well.”
“You too,” he hung up the phone, and strolled lazily out onto the deck. The ocean spread out as far as the eye could see in any direction, vast and wide and filled with salt. He felt safe enough surrounded by that to lower his guard, and relax.
Chloe was still months away from her old self - but Dean thought that when she was, they might head on over to Transylvania. He'd heard there were plenty of things up in those mountains to keep three hunters busy for a good while. At least long enough for the feds to lose interest in them. After that - who knew?