Fic: Sam, Chloe and The Naked Teenage Wiccan Newbie Adventure (1/1)
This is part of the special projects series. You can find the rest of the series here.
Sam, Chloe and the Naked Teenage Wiccan Newbie Adventure (1/1)
By: Pen37
Beta: clarksmuse
Rating: PG-13
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters: Chloe, Sam, Dean mentioned.
Pairing: Chloe/Dean
Disclaimer: Not Mine, Fun only.
Summary: While out on a food run, Sam and Chloe have a really random encounter with some amateur spell casters.
Written for the Crossovers100 challenge. Prompt #59 Food. The table is here.
“Dude, Relax!” Sam sounded frustrated as he spoke into the phone. Which meant that he was talking with Dean.
From her spot riding shotgun in the Impala, Chloe half-listened to Sam's side of the conversation. Out her window, the marshy Mississippi Delta stretched for miles away from the two-lane road they were traveling on.
“We've got five pounds of barbecued ribs, two gallons of baked beans, and enough potato salad to feed a small third world country, or you when you're hungry - Chloe's words, not mine. And for the record, neither one of us is playing Poker with you again if these are the stakes.”
Chloe wasn't quite sure how Dean had talked them into a game of cards to begin with. But the words it seemed like a good idea at the time kept popping into her head. By now, she should know better.
“As soon as we find our way back to the interstate, we'll be there,” Sam said. “We just took a short cut.”
“Some short cut,” Chloe muttered. As near as she could tell, they had gone miles out of their way by now.
Sam rolled his eyes at her as Dean continued grousing at him on the phone. “Our server gave Chloe the directions. I think he had a crush on her.”
Chloe responded with her own eye-roll. Their server was a blonde waitress named Candi, and she so totally had a crush on Sam. But apparently, thinking the reverse got under Dean's skin.
Dean had been treating her as his responsibility since she joined the boys to learn how to hunt. She thought she understood why - He'd probably been the one in charge most of his life. That protective streak wasn't going to end just because he now had a partner with an extended lifetime warranty.
But lately, she'd noticed a possessive streak in him as well. Sam's behavior in teasing Dean was just more evidence of this.
It unnerved her a little. Because it reminder her of Clark in his I-want-Lana-but-I-want-you-to-be-available-just-in-case phase. Except this time there was no Lana in the picture.
“No, I didn't get his name, dude. Just - chill.”
Chloe shook her head. She wished that if Dean liked her he would just send her a memo. She hated doing the Lois-and-Clark-God-just-get-on-with-it-already dance.
Her love life was easier when she found a guy who liked her more than she liked him - like Jimmy. In that kind of relationship, she wasn't so afraid of things not working out.
The problem usually was whenever she found a guy she liked -- really liked, maybe even with the big L word -- they never felt the same. She knew that loving a guy in the half-hearted way she loved Jimmy wasn't fair. After their weird non-breakup break up, she was determined that if she ever loved again, it would be with her whole heart.
The problem was that she didn't think she was capable of risking her heart that way. Not after years of thinking (erroneously, as it turned out) that her mother's absence was some kind of indictment on her as a person. And not after years of thinking Clark would someday take off the Lana-blinders and see her as the one.
Somewhere along the way, Chloe figured out that she was broken. And by the time Clark took off the Lana-blinders, and realized that Lois was the girl from him - Chloe had put herself back together sufficiently to savor the irony.
Her ear for mopey, alien angst of the 'my best friend doesn't love me' variety was less than sympathetic.
The problem with broken things is that once they are mended - they are always a bit weaker along he fractures. Chloe was just afraid that, meta powers notwithstanding, if her heart broke this time, she would never get it back together.
Sam hung up the phone and grinned at her.
“I should just demand a ransom,” he said. “Seems like I have everything Dean wants. The car, the food, the girl.”
“Don't you think you're being a little generous with that statement?”
“You've seen Dean eat.”
“I was talking about me,” Chloe said.
Sam frowned. “You're either selling yourself or Dean short. Either way - What's up with that?”
“It's been my experience that the guys I like never like me back.”
“And you think Dean is the same?”
“I wish I knew,” Chloe shrugged. “Your brother has to be the second-biggest flirt I know.”
“Second biggest?”
“The biggest is a fast mover. A really, really fast mover.”
“More of that stuff that I'm not allowed to ask about?” A hint of suspicion glinted in his eyes. Chloe sighed inwardly. Despite everything they’d been through, Sam didn’t yet trust her.
“You can ask, Sam” Chloe said. “You can ask about anything you want. I just can't guarantee an answer.”
“Fair enough,” Sam said grudgingly.
“Getting back to the subject - I'd like to think that you brother's interest in me is genuine, but between my experience and his reputation --”
“I know,” Sam cut her off. He looked crossways at her speculatively. “Chloe, Dean's my brother. I don't want to see him get hurt.”
She smiled sadly at him. “It's sweet of you to worry, Sam. But I just don't think I have that kind of hold over your brother.”
“You would be surprised,” Sam muttered. “Dean would kill me for telling you this but - I've seen my brother serious about three women. Ever.
“The first was Cassie. She was a reporter, too. Dean told her what he did, and she freaked. Jo was the second. We found out about my dad's involvement with her dad's death. She was a lot younger then, and she didn't take it well. That pretty much killed their chances together.
“You're the third.”
Chloe stared out the window while Sam spoke. She kept her face impassive while he revealed all this to her. The more he talked, the more she felt her inner turmoil boil.
“I'm sorry Sam,” she said quietly. “But if you don't want him hurt - then he shouldn't fall for me. I don't think I can love like that. It's not in me.”
“Oh.” Sam's voice sounded sad.
Chloe euthanized the conversation with her silence as she turned to stare out the window. In the reflection of the glass, she could see that Sam looked like he wanted to ask her why. Mercifully, he didn't.
“What the?” Sam's voice eventually broke the silence.
Chloe turned, and followed his gaze up the road to see a little Honda Civic pulled over with its flashers on.
“Out of gas?” She guessed.
“Or a flat tire?” Sam slowed the car. “You armed?”
“Is the pope Catholic?” she nodded.
Sam got out and walked back to the Civic. By the time Chloe joined him, his face was grim.
“Summoning tools in the backseat,” he reported.
Chloe nodded at his bleak assessment. “Can you track them?”
“Like a bloodhound.”
She transferred the food to the backseat, and retrieved two flashlights, and bug spray. Then, weapons drawn, she and Sam left the road in pursuit of the trail.
“There were four of them,” Sam said. “Judging by the print size and tread depth, I'd say women.”
“What can you raise with four people?” Chloe wondered. “I thought a coven required twelve. Thirteen for really nasty rituals.”
“Not always. There were only three blood mages in the Tulsa group. And they still called up an f-5 tornado.”
“Yeah, but calling up an f-5 tornado? Stupid.”
“No argument there,” Sam said.
The terrain turned swampier as they followed the trail through the underbrush. Eventually, as they neared the lights of a lantern, Chloe and Sam dropped to their knees. As the crept closer, Chloe could feel mud caking her hands and soaking through her jeans. Ahead, they could hear voices.
“I thought you looked this crap up.” The voice sounded angry.
“I did,” came a second, whiny voice. “first you remove the ceremonial robes, then you invoke the powers that be.”
Chloe raised an eyebrow as she listened. The voices sounded like they belonged to spoiled teenagers. Plus - she didn't think that removing robes was essential to the magic process. Even when she was possessed by the spirit of a slutty French witch, she was pretty sure that her clothes had stayed on.
This is a total candid camera moment. Has to be. She shot a glance at Sam. He looked back at her in confusion, and she nodded to indicate that he should look around to see if there were any more of them.
He nodded, and slowly eased to his feet. In the distance, she could hear more arguing.
“Who brought the ceremonial dagger?” Whiny voice asked.
“I uh, brought a spork.” A third voice, that Chloe dubbed hesitant voice, chimed in.
“A spork?” Angry voice chimed in.
“Yeah?”
“You expect us to perform the ritual with a spork?”
“Well, we are dancing naked --”
“Skyclad! The word is Skyclad!” Whiny Voice said.
“Fine! Skyclad around a Coleman lantern.”
“It's a sacred brazier!”
“It's a Coleman. It says so on the side!”
Chloe's other eyebrow lifted to join its buddy up on her forehead. She looked questioningly up at Sam. But he was staring transfixed out at the ritual, with his eyes wide and a doofy grin on his face. She eased up next to him and looked. In the clearing ahead four teenage girls - wearing nothing but their birthday suits - were doing what looked like the chicken dance around a Coleman burner.
“You gotta be kidding me,” Chloe looked at Sam incredulously. She threw her hands over his eyes and pulled him down out of sight.
“Sorry! Sorry!” Sam seemed to realize what he had been doing. His face flamed red in embarrassment.
“Look, I know your brother keeps harping on you to find a girl - but you're doing it wrong,” Chloe said. “This is very creepy in a stalkerish way.”
“Dean needs to lay-off,” Sam whispered. “It's just been a while.”
“You don't have to share, if you don't want.” Chloe said in what she hoped was a vaguely supportive manner. Inwardly she wondered why people always wanted to make her their sex therapist. Aliens, beauty queens, tabloid reporters, and now hunters. She really should charge money for this. She could advertise in the Inquisitor, right next to Mrs. Cleo.
“And I had to shoot the last girl I was with. 'Cause she was a werewolf.”
Chloe stared at Sam and blinked. “Okay, I don't mind if you're my best girlfriend and all, but you really ought to keep that last part to yourself. Because? Creepy.”
“Sorry,” Sam winced. “Just - Sorry.”
“It's alright,” Chloe said. “But getting away from our sex lives - or lack thereof and back onto the Pagan newbie naked chicken dance: other than risking exposure, bug bites and West-Nile, are these girls in any danger?”
“I don't think so,” Sam said. “Their ritual is cobbled together from about a dozed fantasy novels.”
“Still,” Chloe shook her head. “I think I'll give them something to think about before they decide that a henna tattoo and a spice rack qualifies them to consort with the forces of darkness.”
“What have you got in mind?”
“Just a good scare. Just so that they don't escalate into the dark stuff.”
“Anything I should help with?”
“You could move the car, Ned.”
“Who?”
She sighed. “Didn't you ever read Nancy Drew? Ned drove the car.”
Sam blinked.
“Philistine,” she muttered.
“Whatever,” Sam said as he melted back into the darkness.
With a grin of pure mischief, Chloe crawled closer to the ritual. Around the sacred Coleman, the teenage girls were still debating the finer points of the most holy chicken dance.
“ . . . You know, the dark is really . . . dark.” The fourth girl spoke up at last. Chloe decided to call this voice captain obvious.
“Maybe that's why they call it dark, genius.” Angry Voice said.
“Was it that important that we do this naked?”
“It's Skyclad!”
“Bug clad is more like it.”
Chloe's grin widened maliciously. Then she leaned her head back, and let loose with a long, keening wail. Around the Coleman, the arguing girls grew suddenly quiet. Chloe craned her neck to see. Four saucer-sized eyes blinked owlishly back at her. Then all four girls began to talk at once.
“What was that?”
“Bigfoot?”
“It's not Bigfoot!”
“How do you know?”
“It wasn't. Okay? I know!”
“How? This could totally be Bigfoot country!”
Chloe chuckled as she unholstered her Deagle, took careful aim, and shot out the Coleman lantern. The girls turned to the dying light. Their faces twisted in expressions of surprise. In the gathering dark, Chloe let out another wail.
In the silence that followed, Chloe crept closer, and in a high-pitched voice screamed out. “Oh my gosh! Run!”
The four girls abandoned their ritual, and ran for their car. By the time Chloe found the road, the Civic's taillights were mere pinpricks in the distance. The Impala's reassuring purr let her know that Sam had only pulled about 100 yards up the road. When she got into the passenger seat, Sam was on the phone with Dean again.
“We're turning around and going back the normal way,” he told Dean as he handed her a towel to get the mud off.
“No,” he said into the phone. “We ran into some naked teenage mages, and had to shut them down.
“No, Chloe wasn't naked.”
Chloe rolled her eyes.
“Dude! You really ought to keep that to yourself. Because? Creepy.”
Sam, Chloe and the Naked Teenage Wiccan Newbie Adventure (1/1)
By: Pen37
Beta: clarksmuse
Rating: PG-13
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters: Chloe, Sam, Dean mentioned.
Pairing: Chloe/Dean
Disclaimer: Not Mine, Fun only.
Summary: While out on a food run, Sam and Chloe have a really random encounter with some amateur spell casters.
Written for the Crossovers100 challenge. Prompt #59 Food. The table is here.
“Dude, Relax!” Sam sounded frustrated as he spoke into the phone. Which meant that he was talking with Dean.
From her spot riding shotgun in the Impala, Chloe half-listened to Sam's side of the conversation. Out her window, the marshy Mississippi Delta stretched for miles away from the two-lane road they were traveling on.
“We've got five pounds of barbecued ribs, two gallons of baked beans, and enough potato salad to feed a small third world country, or you when you're hungry - Chloe's words, not mine. And for the record, neither one of us is playing Poker with you again if these are the stakes.”
Chloe wasn't quite sure how Dean had talked them into a game of cards to begin with. But the words it seemed like a good idea at the time kept popping into her head. By now, she should know better.
“As soon as we find our way back to the interstate, we'll be there,” Sam said. “We just took a short cut.”
“Some short cut,” Chloe muttered. As near as she could tell, they had gone miles out of their way by now.
Sam rolled his eyes at her as Dean continued grousing at him on the phone. “Our server gave Chloe the directions. I think he had a crush on her.”
Chloe responded with her own eye-roll. Their server was a blonde waitress named Candi, and she so totally had a crush on Sam. But apparently, thinking the reverse got under Dean's skin.
Dean had been treating her as his responsibility since she joined the boys to learn how to hunt. She thought she understood why - He'd probably been the one in charge most of his life. That protective streak wasn't going to end just because he now had a partner with an extended lifetime warranty.
But lately, she'd noticed a possessive streak in him as well. Sam's behavior in teasing Dean was just more evidence of this.
It unnerved her a little. Because it reminder her of Clark in his I-want-Lana-but-I-want-you-to-be-available-just-in-case phase. Except this time there was no Lana in the picture.
“No, I didn't get his name, dude. Just - chill.”
Chloe shook her head. She wished that if Dean liked her he would just send her a memo. She hated doing the Lois-and-Clark-God-just-get-on-with-it-already dance.
Her love life was easier when she found a guy who liked her more than she liked him - like Jimmy. In that kind of relationship, she wasn't so afraid of things not working out.
The problem usually was whenever she found a guy she liked -- really liked, maybe even with the big L word -- they never felt the same. She knew that loving a guy in the half-hearted way she loved Jimmy wasn't fair. After their weird non-breakup break up, she was determined that if she ever loved again, it would be with her whole heart.
The problem was that she didn't think she was capable of risking her heart that way. Not after years of thinking (erroneously, as it turned out) that her mother's absence was some kind of indictment on her as a person. And not after years of thinking Clark would someday take off the Lana-blinders and see her as the one.
Somewhere along the way, Chloe figured out that she was broken. And by the time Clark took off the Lana-blinders, and realized that Lois was the girl from him - Chloe had put herself back together sufficiently to savor the irony.
Her ear for mopey, alien angst of the 'my best friend doesn't love me' variety was less than sympathetic.
The problem with broken things is that once they are mended - they are always a bit weaker along he fractures. Chloe was just afraid that, meta powers notwithstanding, if her heart broke this time, she would never get it back together.
Sam hung up the phone and grinned at her.
“I should just demand a ransom,” he said. “Seems like I have everything Dean wants. The car, the food, the girl.”
“Don't you think you're being a little generous with that statement?”
“You've seen Dean eat.”
“I was talking about me,” Chloe said.
Sam frowned. “You're either selling yourself or Dean short. Either way - What's up with that?”
“It's been my experience that the guys I like never like me back.”
“And you think Dean is the same?”
“I wish I knew,” Chloe shrugged. “Your brother has to be the second-biggest flirt I know.”
“Second biggest?”
“The biggest is a fast mover. A really, really fast mover.”
“More of that stuff that I'm not allowed to ask about?” A hint of suspicion glinted in his eyes. Chloe sighed inwardly. Despite everything they’d been through, Sam didn’t yet trust her.
“You can ask, Sam” Chloe said. “You can ask about anything you want. I just can't guarantee an answer.”
“Fair enough,” Sam said grudgingly.
“Getting back to the subject - I'd like to think that you brother's interest in me is genuine, but between my experience and his reputation --”
“I know,” Sam cut her off. He looked crossways at her speculatively. “Chloe, Dean's my brother. I don't want to see him get hurt.”
She smiled sadly at him. “It's sweet of you to worry, Sam. But I just don't think I have that kind of hold over your brother.”
“You would be surprised,” Sam muttered. “Dean would kill me for telling you this but - I've seen my brother serious about three women. Ever.
“The first was Cassie. She was a reporter, too. Dean told her what he did, and she freaked. Jo was the second. We found out about my dad's involvement with her dad's death. She was a lot younger then, and she didn't take it well. That pretty much killed their chances together.
“You're the third.”
Chloe stared out the window while Sam spoke. She kept her face impassive while he revealed all this to her. The more he talked, the more she felt her inner turmoil boil.
“I'm sorry Sam,” she said quietly. “But if you don't want him hurt - then he shouldn't fall for me. I don't think I can love like that. It's not in me.”
“Oh.” Sam's voice sounded sad.
Chloe euthanized the conversation with her silence as she turned to stare out the window. In the reflection of the glass, she could see that Sam looked like he wanted to ask her why. Mercifully, he didn't.
“What the?” Sam's voice eventually broke the silence.
Chloe turned, and followed his gaze up the road to see a little Honda Civic pulled over with its flashers on.
“Out of gas?” She guessed.
“Or a flat tire?” Sam slowed the car. “You armed?”
“Is the pope Catholic?” she nodded.
Sam got out and walked back to the Civic. By the time Chloe joined him, his face was grim.
“Summoning tools in the backseat,” he reported.
Chloe nodded at his bleak assessment. “Can you track them?”
“Like a bloodhound.”
She transferred the food to the backseat, and retrieved two flashlights, and bug spray. Then, weapons drawn, she and Sam left the road in pursuit of the trail.
“There were four of them,” Sam said. “Judging by the print size and tread depth, I'd say women.”
“What can you raise with four people?” Chloe wondered. “I thought a coven required twelve. Thirteen for really nasty rituals.”
“Not always. There were only three blood mages in the Tulsa group. And they still called up an f-5 tornado.”
“Yeah, but calling up an f-5 tornado? Stupid.”
“No argument there,” Sam said.
The terrain turned swampier as they followed the trail through the underbrush. Eventually, as they neared the lights of a lantern, Chloe and Sam dropped to their knees. As the crept closer, Chloe could feel mud caking her hands and soaking through her jeans. Ahead, they could hear voices.
“I thought you looked this crap up.” The voice sounded angry.
“I did,” came a second, whiny voice. “first you remove the ceremonial robes, then you invoke the powers that be.”
Chloe raised an eyebrow as she listened. The voices sounded like they belonged to spoiled teenagers. Plus - she didn't think that removing robes was essential to the magic process. Even when she was possessed by the spirit of a slutty French witch, she was pretty sure that her clothes had stayed on.
This is a total candid camera moment. Has to be. She shot a glance at Sam. He looked back at her in confusion, and she nodded to indicate that he should look around to see if there were any more of them.
He nodded, and slowly eased to his feet. In the distance, she could hear more arguing.
“Who brought the ceremonial dagger?” Whiny voice asked.
“I uh, brought a spork.” A third voice, that Chloe dubbed hesitant voice, chimed in.
“A spork?” Angry voice chimed in.
“Yeah?”
“You expect us to perform the ritual with a spork?”
“Well, we are dancing naked --”
“Skyclad! The word is Skyclad!” Whiny Voice said.
“Fine! Skyclad around a Coleman lantern.”
“It's a sacred brazier!”
“It's a Coleman. It says so on the side!”
Chloe's other eyebrow lifted to join its buddy up on her forehead. She looked questioningly up at Sam. But he was staring transfixed out at the ritual, with his eyes wide and a doofy grin on his face. She eased up next to him and looked. In the clearing ahead four teenage girls - wearing nothing but their birthday suits - were doing what looked like the chicken dance around a Coleman burner.
“You gotta be kidding me,” Chloe looked at Sam incredulously. She threw her hands over his eyes and pulled him down out of sight.
“Sorry! Sorry!” Sam seemed to realize what he had been doing. His face flamed red in embarrassment.
“Look, I know your brother keeps harping on you to find a girl - but you're doing it wrong,” Chloe said. “This is very creepy in a stalkerish way.”
“Dean needs to lay-off,” Sam whispered. “It's just been a while.”
“You don't have to share, if you don't want.” Chloe said in what she hoped was a vaguely supportive manner. Inwardly she wondered why people always wanted to make her their sex therapist. Aliens, beauty queens, tabloid reporters, and now hunters. She really should charge money for this. She could advertise in the Inquisitor, right next to Mrs. Cleo.
“And I had to shoot the last girl I was with. 'Cause she was a werewolf.”
Chloe stared at Sam and blinked. “Okay, I don't mind if you're my best girlfriend and all, but you really ought to keep that last part to yourself. Because? Creepy.”
“Sorry,” Sam winced. “Just - Sorry.”
“It's alright,” Chloe said. “But getting away from our sex lives - or lack thereof and back onto the Pagan newbie naked chicken dance: other than risking exposure, bug bites and West-Nile, are these girls in any danger?”
“I don't think so,” Sam said. “Their ritual is cobbled together from about a dozed fantasy novels.”
“Still,” Chloe shook her head. “I think I'll give them something to think about before they decide that a henna tattoo and a spice rack qualifies them to consort with the forces of darkness.”
“What have you got in mind?”
“Just a good scare. Just so that they don't escalate into the dark stuff.”
“Anything I should help with?”
“You could move the car, Ned.”
“Who?”
She sighed. “Didn't you ever read Nancy Drew? Ned drove the car.”
Sam blinked.
“Philistine,” she muttered.
“Whatever,” Sam said as he melted back into the darkness.
With a grin of pure mischief, Chloe crawled closer to the ritual. Around the sacred Coleman, the teenage girls were still debating the finer points of the most holy chicken dance.
“ . . . You know, the dark is really . . . dark.” The fourth girl spoke up at last. Chloe decided to call this voice captain obvious.
“Maybe that's why they call it dark, genius.” Angry Voice said.
“Was it that important that we do this naked?”
“It's Skyclad!”
“Bug clad is more like it.”
Chloe's grin widened maliciously. Then she leaned her head back, and let loose with a long, keening wail. Around the Coleman, the arguing girls grew suddenly quiet. Chloe craned her neck to see. Four saucer-sized eyes blinked owlishly back at her. Then all four girls began to talk at once.
“What was that?”
“Bigfoot?”
“It's not Bigfoot!”
“How do you know?”
“It wasn't. Okay? I know!”
“How? This could totally be Bigfoot country!”
Chloe chuckled as she unholstered her Deagle, took careful aim, and shot out the Coleman lantern. The girls turned to the dying light. Their faces twisted in expressions of surprise. In the gathering dark, Chloe let out another wail.
In the silence that followed, Chloe crept closer, and in a high-pitched voice screamed out. “Oh my gosh! Run!”
The four girls abandoned their ritual, and ran for their car. By the time Chloe found the road, the Civic's taillights were mere pinpricks in the distance. The Impala's reassuring purr let her know that Sam had only pulled about 100 yards up the road. When she got into the passenger seat, Sam was on the phone with Dean again.
“We're turning around and going back the normal way,” he told Dean as he handed her a towel to get the mud off.
“No,” he said into the phone. “We ran into some naked teenage mages, and had to shut them down.
“No, Chloe wasn't naked.”
Chloe rolled her eyes.
“Dude! You really ought to keep that to yourself. Because? Creepy.”