Visiting Smallville: 14a/21
Zero
“So, you’re leaving to help an old friend?” Chloe asked, leaning across the table towards the brothers. “And by old friend, you mean…?”
Dean grimaced. “A friend who isn’t new.”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “Really? So what’s her name?”
“Cassie.”
Sam looked at his brother in confusion. “You never mentioned her.”
“Didn’t I?” Dean sounded hesitant and Chloe turned to look at him.
“No.”
“Yeah, we went out.” Dean said nonchalantly, looking up at the ceiling as Chloe smirked.
“Do you mean you dated her?” she asked slowly, grinning as Dean rolled his eyes.
Sam gaped at his brother in shock. “For more than one night?”
Dean grimaced. “Am I speaking a language you’re not getting here?” he growled. “Yeah, Dad and I were working a case up in Athens, Ohio, she was finishing up college and we went out for a couple of weeks.”
“And?” Chloe asked, staring intently at Dean. “What happened?”
Sam frowned. “Look, it’s terrible that her dad’s dead but it sounds like a standard car accident. I’m not seeing how it fits with what we do. Which, by the way, how does she know what we do?”
Dean didn’t respond, instead frowning even more intently at the table. Chloe raised an eyebrow. “You told her?”
Sam tensed, turning in his seat to glare at his brother. “You told her? The secret? Our big family rule number one? We do what we do and we shut up about it.” Chloe made as if to interrupt them, clearly ready to point out that she knew their ‘big family secret’, but Sam stood up and her mouth closed. “For a year I did nothing but lie to Jessica, and you go out with this chick in Ohio a couple of times and you tell her everything? Dean!”
“Yeah...” Dean muttered. “Looks like it.”
Chloe glanced between the two boys, eyebrows furrowed with concern. “Sam?” she asked quietly. “Are you alright?”
Sam swallowed, picking up his duffle bag and striding out the room. Chloe watched him, looking sadly at him, then turning to Dean. Dean smiled at her.
“See you, Sullivan.” He waved, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.
“Bye.” She murmured after him.
*
Chloe pushed through the moving masses of students at Smallville High to reach Pete and Clark by the stairs. She couldn’t help smiling, even though she knew it wasn’t as wide as normal. She couldn’t help thinking about Sam’s cold exit since the Winchester’s had left, and it was made worse by the monotony of English class.
She finally reached her best friend’s and followed them down the stairs towards the cafeteria. “I swear that there is nothing like 50 minutes of Mr Austin’s English class that works up an appetite.” She laughed.
“There’s nothing like having a six-page biography due Monday to help me lose mine.” Pete moaned, casually slinging an arm around Chloe’s shoulder.
She grinned. “What, the biography part or the fact that our fellow student subjects were randomly assigned?”
Clark laughed at her question. “Pete’s convinced that the drawing was fixed.”
Chloe turned to Pete with a raised eyebrow. “There are three dozen ladies in our class...” Pete grumbled. “Each worthy of length interrogation.”
Chloe grinned at him. “I keep saying, you and Dean would really get on well.”
Pete rolled his eyes. “I got stuck with Stan Gibson.”
Clark smiled weakly. “The manager of the student store? Well, I hear he’s very...”
“Efficient?” Chloe said, laughing.
“Very funny.” Pete drawled. “I’m about to learn more about the art of selling ‘Go Crows’ pendants than any human should have to endure.” He turned to Chloe. “You haven’t stopped smiling since you left the classroom. Who’s your victim?”
Chloe pulled the small slip of paper out from her pocket with a flourish and grinned at her two friends mischievously. “The illustrious Mr Kent himself.”
Pete winced at that, turning to Clark with an ‘Ooh’. Clark stared at Chloe in shock. “Me?”
“I take it back.” Pete said, sounding happy. “Chloe’s the one with the challenge.”
“Excuse me?”
“No offense Clark, but digging up six pages of interesting on you is going to require some serious excavation.”
“I do stuff.” Clark protested.
Chloe giggled at him, slipping an arm around Clark’s own. “Yes, and I’m sure that once I deploy my journalistic skills on you, I’ll be able to unearth a skeleton or two.”
Chloe frowned when Clark stepped away from her. “You know, Chloe, this is a class project not a corruption scandal.”
“Relax, Clark.” Chloe grinned innocently at him. “It’s not like you have anything to hide.”
“Come on then Clark, cough up, who did you get?” Pete asked, rounding on his best friend.
“Oh, don’t tell me.” Chloe teased when Clark’s face lit up. “Lana Lang.” If possible, Clark Kent’s smile grew even further. “Oh my god, just look at his face. You don’t even have to say it.”
“Definitely rigged.” Pete whispered loudly to Chloe. “I assume you’ll be starting your paper ASAP?”
“It’s all going to work out.” Clark said, the happiness permeating through his own voice. “I’ve been helping Lana over at the Talon, getting ready for the grand opening.”
“Oh, that’s nice.” Chloe kidded. “The surrogate boyfriend does the heavy lifting while Whitney works at his dad’s store.”
“On that note...” Clark thought, walking slowly away.
Chloe gaped after him. “Wait!” Chloe yelled after him. “When are you going to sit down and do my interview?”
“Right.” Clark said, turning around but still walking away. “I’ll be around.”
“Did he just blow me off?” Chloe asked, turning back to Pete with wide eyes. “I’m having the worst day.”
Pete shot her a confused look. “One step forward, two steps back.” He muttered. “Come on.”
*
The Winchesters strode into the small building, glancing round as people hurried round the room. In the centre of the room stood an old man talking with a small, thin black woman with curly black hair. Dean stopped walking, his eyes widening. Sam turned to him, than stared at the woman.
She turned round, her jaw dropping when she caught sight of Dean and then her eyes filled with tears. Dean smiled weakly.
“Dean...” she breathed, pushing through the crowd to stand in front of them.
Dean swallowed. “Hey.” He replied, his voice quiet. “This is my brother, Sam. I’m sorry to hear about your dad.”
Sam watched as his brother spoke with Cassie, able to sense the awkwardness between the two of them. Dean dug in his pocket, pulling out the Impala keys, turning in order to walk back out the building. He hit Sam on the shoulder as he walked past. Sam rolled his eyes, allowing Cassie to walk next to his brother as he hung behind.
*
“My mother’s in pretty bad shape.” Cassie whispered, patting the space next to her on the sofa. “I’ve been staying with her.” Dean sat next to her, slinging an arm round her shoulder. “I wish she would walk by herself, but she’s been so nervous and frightened. She was worried about dad.”
“Why?” Dean asked, his hand now running through Cassie’s hair.
Sam was paying attention to the conversation, but he couldn’t help watching as Dean interacted with Cassie. If it was a less serious situation, he would be treating Dean just as his brother treated him when he was with Chloe.
“He was scared.” Cassie muttered. “He was seeing things.”
“Like what?”
“He swore he saw an awful-looking, black truck following him.”
Sam frowned. “A truck?” he asked. “Who was the driver?”
“He didn’t talk about the driver. Just the truck. He said it would appear and disappear. And in the accident, dad’s truck was dented. Like it had been slammed into something big.”
“You’re sure this dent wasn’t there before?”
Cassie rolled her eyes at Sam, before leaning into Dean’s hold. “He sold cars. Always drove a new one. I mean, there wasn’t a scratch on that thing. It had rained hard all night, there was mud everywhere. There was a distinct set of tracks from Dad’s car…” she paused, tears starting to trail down her cheeks. “Where he went over.” she gulped. “And there was only one set of tracks. His.”
“And the first person killed was a friend of your father’s?” Dean asked.
“Best friend. Clayton Solmes. They owned the car dealership together. Same thing, dent, no tracks. And the cops said exactly what they said about dad - he lost control of the car.”
“Can you think of any reason why your father and his partner might be targets?”
Cassie shook her head at Dean’s question, burying her head into his shoulder.
“And you think this vanishing truck ran him off the road?” Sam questioned, trying not to upset Cassie even further.
She sat up, blinking. “Well, when you say it like that…” she murmured. “Listen, I’m a little sceptical about this… ghost stuff, or whatever it is you guys are into.”
Dean snorted. “Sceptical?” he drawled, pulling his arm away from her. “Yeah, if I remember, I think you said it was nuts.”
“That was then.” Dean just grimaced, and she lowered her head. Dean finally pushed himself off the sofa and Cassie grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. “I just know that I can’t explain what happened up there, so I called you.”
Dean looked as if he didn’t know what to do, and Sam saw his brother sigh in relief when another woman entered the room. She was older than Cassie, with pale skin and light brown hair, a few wrinkles lining her face.
“Mom!” Cassie gasped, letting go of Dean and rushing to her mother’s side. “Where have you been? I was so…”
“I had no idea you’d invited friends over.” Her mother said, looking sadly from Dean to Sam.
“Mom, this is Dean, a friend of mine from…uh…college. And his brother, Sam.”
“Well, I won’t interrupt you.”
“Mrs Robinson.” Dean said slowly. “We’re sorry for your loss. And we’d like to talk to you for a minute, if you don’t mind.”
Her face hardened and Dean swallowed. “I’m not really up to that right now.”
She stalked out the room, and Dean turned to Sam, shrugging.
*
Chloe glanced up when she heard the door opening, grinning when she saw Clark striding into the farmhouse.
“Hello?” he called, grabbing an apple from the table. “Anybody home?”
Chloe sniggered when Jonathan turned round in his chair to wave at his son. “Hey. Pull up a microphone, son.”
Chloe’s grin faded when she saw Clark realise what was happening and his expression faded, instead he looked blank. She looked away slightly, confused, before turning back to him with a smile.
“Hey, Chloe.” he said hesitantly. “What’s going on?”
Chloe smirked. “Since I couldn’t find you all day, I decided to start my biological inquiry at the beginning.” she answered. “And unlike a so-called friend of mine, your parents gracefully agreed to be interviewed.”
Martha nodded slightly. “Chloe’s been asking us some very interesting questions, Clark.”
Chloe beamed at Clark’s mother. “Thank you. Now, we just have a few more to go so… we were talking about the early days. Now, what was involved in adopting Clark?”
“W-Well,” Jonathan stuttered, and Chloe’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Shouldn’t they be eager to talk about when they brought Clark into their lives? “It was just like any normal adoption, I guess.”
“Okay, well, can you take me through the process? Did it take weeks or months? I mean, did you guys use a lawyer or did you go through an agent?” Chloe paused, hearing her tape recorded click. She grimaced, opening it and wincing at full tape. “Shoot. I’m out of tape.” She frowned when Clark’s family relaxed. “It’s okay; I’ve got a couple of spare C-90s in my car.” She stood up, pushing past Clark to leave the farmhouse. “I’ll be right back.”
She rushed outside, leaning against her car and thinking over the interview. Clark’s whole family were just as strange as he was, eager to talk about anything but Clark Kent. After a few minutes, watching Clark talk with his parents through the window, she pulled her phone out.
After scowling at the lack of contact either Winchester had tried to make with her, she finally opened the trunk. She rummaged through and pulled out one tape, returning back into the Kent farm.
“Sorry, am I interrupting?” she asked when Clark turned round in shock. “Oh Clark, now that you’re finally spinning in my orbit, I have a few questions for you too.”
Clark smiled apologetically at her, but Chloe was hurt that she could tell he didn’t mean it. “Actually, this is just a pit stop for me.” he told her. “I’m on my way to meet up with Lana to work on my paper.”
“Not to strike a paranoid note, Clark, but are you avoiding me?”
Clark’s eyes widened. “Tomorrow, I promise.”
She nodded, watching as he rushed out the farmhouse and ran down the lane, ignoring the red truck. She frowned, turning back to the Kent’s in confusion, choosing to ignore their slightly-frightened stares. “Okay, this isn’t an official question, and I don’t want you guys to take it the wrong way, but has your son always been this strange?”
*
“Jimmy meant something to this town. He was one of best.” spoke the town mayor. “It won’t be the same without him.”
“Our best seem to be dropping like flies.” snapped Cassie. “First Clayton, my father, and now Jimmy.”
The mayor raised an eyebrow at her, then looked down the road. “What do you want me to do?”
“Well, how about closing this section of the road, for starters?”
“Close the main road, the only road, in and out of town?” He shook his head disdainfully at Cassie. “Accidents do happen, Cassie. That’s what they are, accidents.”
Dean rolled his eyes, pushing in front of Cassie and staring at the mayor. “Did the cops check for additional denting in Jimmy’s car?” he asked. “See if it was pushed?”
The mayor frowned at Dean. “Who is this?”
“Dean and Sam Winchester.” Cassie introduced, pointing over to Sam, who was investigating the tracks on the road. “Family friends.” She smiled up at Dean. “This is Mayor Harold Todd.”
Harold nodded slightly, but still had serious expression on his face. “So, one set of tracks - one- doesn’t point to foul play.”
Cassie growled. “Mayor, the police and town officials take their cues from you. If you’re indifferent about it…”
Harold’s gaze snapped to Cassie. “Indifferent?”
“Would you close the road if the victims were white?” she snarled.
Harold’s eyes widened and he glared at her, his voice lowering dangerously. “Are suggesting that I’m racist, Cassie?” he asked. “I’m the last person you should be talking to like that.”
“And why is that?”
“Why don’t you ask your mother?”
*
Dean and Sam strode into the small bar, glancing round before approaching a Caucasian man sitting at the bar. “Excuse me?” Dean asked. “Are you Ron Stubbins?” The man nodded. “You were friends with Jimmy Anderson?”
“Who are you?” he croaked.
“We’re with Mr Anderson’s insurance company. We’re just here to dot some I’s and cross some T’s.”
Sam nodded, sitting next to the distraught man. “We were just wondering, had the deceased mentioned any recent unusual experiences?”
“What do you mean?” Ron asked. “Unusual?”
“Well, visions, hallucinations.”
“It’s all part of a medical examination.” Dean interrupted. “All very standard.”
“What company did you say you were with?” Ron asked, suspicious.
Dean glanced at Sam, but then smiled at Ron. “All National Mutual.” Dean made up, pulling part of an envelope out of his jacket for a second, returning it quickly. “Tell me, did he ever mention seeing a truck?” Dean asked, not noticing how the African-American next to Ron had turned to them in interest. “A big, black truck?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” snapped Ron. “You even speaking English?”
“Son, this truck…” said the man, drawing the Winchesters attention. “A big, scary, monster-lookin’ thing?”
“Yeah, actually, I think so.” answered Dean.
“Hm.”
“What?”
“I have heard of a truck like that.”
“You have?” asked Sam. “Where?”
“Not where - when. Back in the sixties, there was a string of deaths. Black men. Story goes, they disappeared in a big nasty black truck.”
“They ever catch the guy that did it?” Dean asked, ignoring Ron now.
“Never found him; hell, I’m not sure they really looked.” he grimaced. “See, there was a time this town wasn’t too friendly to all its citizens.”
“Thank you.” Sam smiled at the man, leading Dean out from the bar and back towards the Impala.
“Truck.” Dean said, frowning.
“Keeps coming up, doesn’t it?”
“You know what I’m thinking?” Dean asked. “You heard of the flying Dutchman?”
“Yeah, a ghost ship infused with the captain’s spirit.” Sam nodded. “Basically a part of him.”
“Yeah, so what if we’re dealing with the same thing?” Dean wondered, leaning against his car. “You know, a phantom truck that’s the extension of some bastard ghost, re-enacting past crimes.”
“The victims have all been black men.”
“It’s more than that.” Dean muttered. “They all seem connected to Cassie and her family.”
“Alright, well, you work that angle.” Sam agreed. “Go talk to her.”
“Yeah, I will.”
Sam smirked suddenly. “You might want to mention that other thing.”
Dean turned to him, confused. “What other thing?”
“The serious unfinished business. Dean, what is going on between you two?”
“What is going on between you and Chloe?” Dean snapped back, but Sam just raised an eyebrow. “Alright, so maybe we were a little bit more involved than I said.”
“Ok, yeah.”
“Okay, a lot more.” Dean admitted. “And I told her the secret about what we do and I shouldn’t have.”
“No, look, man, everybody’s got to open up to someone, sometime.” Sam told his brother.
“Yeah, I don’t.”
“You told Chloe.”
“Did you ever think Chloe wouldn’t be able to handle it? She deals with the weird every day - for god sakes Sam, she’s even close to Clark - and even we don’t know what he is.” Dean sighed, raising a hand to his forehead. “Look, with Cassie, it was stupid to get that close and look how it ended.” Sam smiled, staring at his brother. “Would you stop?”
“You loved her.” Sam muttered, shocked.
“Oh, God.” Dean moaned, starting to open the door to the car.
“You were in love with her, but you dumped her.” Dean glanced up at him, shaking his head. “Oh, wow. She dumped you.”
“Sam!” snarled Dean. “Get in the car!” Sam did so, smirking at his older brother. “And don’t you dare tell Chloe about this.”
“Why?” Sam asked, confused.
“You might not be brave enough to get back at me for all the times I tease you and Chloe, but Chloe would.” he answered, still frowning as the Impala pulled away from the pavement. “She’s not a wimp.”
*
“Come on, Pete.” Chloe groaned, frowning at her friend. “I’m desperate. Now the only information I can get from the Kent’s was the earth-shattering admission that Clark hates peas.”
Pete rolled his eyes, staring at her incredulously. “Chloe, a body part shows up at the Talon and all you can do is talk about Clark.” Chloe waved that fact aside, fixing him with a glare. “Where are your priorities? You know Lex Luthor has to be mixed up in this somehow.”
“Easy.” Chloe muttered, resting a hand on Pete’s arm in an attempt to calm him down. “Now, I know you’ve got issues with the Luthors but…”
“More than issues.” snarled Pete. “You know what the Luthor’s did to my family.”
“Okay, one piece of investigative information at a time.” Chloe insisted, laughing at Pete’s shocked expression when she turned the conversation back to Clark. “Now, about Clark?”
“Chloe, what do you want from me?” Pete asked. “In a world full of designer water, Clark Kent is straight from the tap.”
“I know, but you’ve known him the longest.” Chloe persisted. “I mean, all I need is just, like, a little anecdote. Just a small piece of information form Clark’s deep, dark past.”
“Well, there was something back in first grade.” Pete admitted.
“Thank You!” Chloe yelled, watching as Pete rolled his eyes. “That’s more than I’ve uncovered in the past two days. Now, please, let’s continue.”
“There was this bully three grades ahead of us.” Pete narrated. “This dude was determined to pound dents into every kid in school. One day, I guess it was my turn. He was just about to take my head off when Clark jumped between us.”
“So Clark ran interference.” Chloe stated, pushing through into the Torch, and grinning when she saw Clark already sitting at her desk. “Now, as kind as that sounds, Pete, I really don’t think it falls under the ‘something amazing’ category.”
“What?” Clark asked, looking confused.
“I’m not finished.” Pete grinned. “Clark didn’t just push the guy away. He put him through the door, as in splinters and broken hinges. How he did it, I still have no idea. The guy was twice our size.”
Chloe gaped, turning to Clark. “Clark, any comment?”
“Well, we were, uh, you know, six years old.” Clark stuttered. “Twice our size was three feet tall.”
“If you need any more ancient history, ask the source.” Pete announced. “I’ve got an appointment at the student store.”
Chloe waved Pete away. “Have fun.” she called after him. “And so the mystery that is Clark Kent deepens.”
“Mystery?” Clark asked, sounding amused.
“Yeah. Since you continue to play obstructionist, I’ve had to find information through other means.”
Clark rolled his eyes. “Obstructionist?” he laughed. “Chloe, you know how hard it is to talk to you about anything?” Chloe’s jaw dropped, and she stuttered. Clark seemed to realise what he said, and looked down, embarrassed. “You’re never alone anymore. If I want to speak to you, you’re with those brothers and I can’t get a word in, and if I do, you exchange these glances with them and I don’t feel like your best friend.”
Chloe’s eyes widened and she blushed. “I’m not with them now.”
“Yeah, but now you’re hunting my past.” Clark grimaced. “You’re a journalist, Chloe. If I wanted you to know my sordid past, I’d have organised an interview.”
She grinned, sitting next to Clark and leaning into his side. “So you admit there’s a sordid past?”
“If accidentally overfeeding the goldfish counts.” Clark laughed.
“No!” Chloe smiled up at him, blushing slightly. “I was thinking more like this.” Chloe picked up a file from her desk. “I found that your adoption was done through Metropolis United Charities. But this is the strange part. They were only in business for six months and from what I can tell, yours is the only adoption they handled.”
Chloe paled when Clark stood up suddenly, staring at her angrily. “I can’t believe you did this.”
“You didn’t know?” Chloe said quietly. “I mean, I assumed your parents would have told you. I mean, weren’t you interested?”
“Why would I be?” Clark snapped. “My biological parents are either dead or didn’t want me. The point is that you’re prying into my life.”
“I was just trying to be thorough.” Chloe whispered.
“Since those Winchester’s came, we haven’t been as close as we were before. We hardly see each other unless something strange has happened.” Clark snapped. “You don’t have any right to do this.”
Chloe’s jaw dropped. “Clark, it’s not just my fault. You know, half the time I spend with the Winchester’s is because you’re unavailable. Whenever I want to see you, you’re with Lana. And everyone knows that you can’t see anyone else when Lana’s in the same building as you.”
“I spent an hour yesterday with Lana.” Clark growled. “This is a class project. That’s it. An hour was all I needed. I’m not some mystery for you to solve.”
He strode out the room, not looking back. “Clark…” she cried, sobbing onto her desk
Next Part.