Visiting Smallville: 4a/21
Asylum
The Smallville Ledger lay open on the coffee table, Chloe Sullivan reading it intently.
“Lex Luthor robs bank.” she read aloud. “Why would a billionaire rob a bank?”
The Winchester brothers ignored her, but Gabe looked round in shock. “I’ve seen some pretty strange things…” he said, going over to check Chloe wasn’t joking. “But this beats them all.”
At that sentence, Sam looked round, raising an eyebrow. “You really think that’s weird? You know what Dean and I do?”
Gabe chuckled. “How much did he get away with?”
“100 000 dollars.” Chloe sighed. “I wish I had 100 000 dollars.” When no one responded, she grimaced, folded the paper away and moved to see what everyone else was doing. “What are you looking at?”
“Dad’s journal.” Dean answered, showing a heavy leather file to her. “We’re trying to find where he is. No one’s heard from him and I can’t find anything in here.” He chuckled. “I can’t make anything out. He writes like Yoda.”
“Maybe you should call someone.” Chloe suggested, stealing the book and rifling through it. “File a missing persons report.”
“Dad would be pissed if we set the Feds on him.”
“I don’t care anymore.” Sam said, angrily as Dean’s phone began to ring.
“Where the hell is my phone?”
As Dean looked round the room, Sam buried his face in his hands. “He could be dead for all we know.”
“Don’t say that.” Chloe whispered.
Dean looked up, angry. “He’s not dead.” he said loudly. “He’s…”
“He’s what?” snarled Sam and Gabe groaned at the fury in his voice. “He’s hiding? He’s busy?”
Dean found his phone, and looked at it in disbelief. “42,69”
“What?” Sam asked, confused.
“I don’t believe it. It’s a text message. Its co-ordinates. ”
Chloe grinned, excited, running to the computer. She started typing quickly, and the men gathered round her.
“You think Dad was texting us?” Sam asked.
“He’s given us co-ordinates before.”
“He can barely use a toaster.”
“Yes, well, Chloe can barely use a toaster but look at her on a computer.” Gabe said, chuckling as Chloe frowned at him.
“Sam, this is good news. It means he’s okay or alive at least.”
“Well, was there a number on the caller ID?” Chloe piped up, still typing furiously into the computer.
“No, it said unknown.”
“Okay, well, where to the co-ordinates point?” Sam asked as Chloe pressed the ‘Enter’ key with a flourish.
“Rockford, Illinois.” she answered. “I can check the local paper,” She did that quickly, pulling up a recent article. “There’s not much .” she continued scanning the article. “Oh, here’s something. This cop, Walter Kelly, comes home from his shift, shoots his wife, puts the gun in his mouth and blows his brains out. Fellow police say it doesn’t seem like he was unhappy and he would never have killed his wife”
She winced, as Dean quickly checked through his dad’s journal, recognising the town’s name, before reading through the article. “Look,” he pointed to a sentence. “Earlier that night, Kelly and his partner responded to a call at the Roosevelt Asylum.”
“I’m not following.” Sam admitted. “What does this have to do with us?”
“Dad’s marked the Asylum in his journal.” He showed them an older article pinned to the page. “Here, several unconfirmed sightings, two deaths - til last week, at least. I think this is where he wants us to go.”
“This is a job.” Sam looked anxious. “Dad wants us to work a job.”
“What do you work as?” Chloe asked, but they ignored her.
“Maybe we’ll meet up with him.” Dean grinned. “Maybe he’s there.”
“Maybe he’s not.”Sam sighed, pessimistic. “I mean, he could be sending us there by ourselves to hunt this thing.”
Chloe raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question it as Dean continued to talk, excited. “Who cares? If he wants us there, that’s good enough for me.”
“This doesn’t strike you as weird?” asked Sam. “The texting? The co-ordinates?”
Gabe shook his head. “Your father’s telling you to go somewhere. You’re going.”
Sam stared at him in disbelief. “What do you mean?”
“You’re going to do this hunt and then when it’s finished, you’ll come back to Smallville.” Gabe instructed and Dean nodded slowly. “If you need any help, call me or Chloe. I know quite a bit about the stuff you do, and Chloe can find anything given the right amount of time.”
Chloe grinned in agreement. “I won’t even ask questions.” she lied, making them laugh. “Well, maybe I will but I’ll help you no matter what. Hunting sounds more interesting than weird Lex Luthor.”
Dean smiled at Chloe before leaving to pack their things away. Sam slumped down next to her, reading through the article on the screen.
“We might not come back.” he said. “If we find a lead on dad, we’re going to chase it.”
“Understandable.” Chloe smiled up at him. “But you said yourself that there don’t seem to be many hunts at the moment while Smallville’s always full of weird things.”
Sam nodded as Dean strode back into the room, duffle bag in one hand. “Coming Sammy?” he called.
Sam groaned at the nickname, but stood up, patting Chloe on the shoulder as a good-bye.
“See you later.” she called, turning off the computer. “Have a safe trip.”
*
“How about we talk to the police?” Sam suggested, slumped in the Impala as Dean searched for a parking space. “They’ll be the ones who knew Walter Kelly.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “What do you think we were going to do?”
“Of course, we can’t be us as you’re probably still wanted for the whole kidnapping girls thing.”
“Well, we know I didn’t do it.” Dean smirked. “I’d say we ask this Daniel Gunderson. The article says he was the other cop sent to the asylum that night.”
Sam nodded. “And where do you think we’ll find him?”
“On a Saturday after his friend committed suicide? A bar.” Dean grinned when he spotted a space, and smoothly pulled up. “All we have to do is find which bar.”
Luckily, in Rockford, Illinois, there were only two bars. After Dean asked one barman if he knew a Daniel Gunderson, and received a negative answer, they knew which pub to visit later that night.
The bar was rather quiet, so Dean confidently approached the bar, leaving Sam to lock up the car. The guy next to him was eerily silent, a few shot glasses cluttered in front of him. Dean smirked, sitting on the barstool next to him.
“Are you Daniel Gunderson?” he asked, and the man looked up slowly, his eyes surrounded by red rims. “The cop?”
“Yeah.” Croaked the man, and Dean grinned.
“I’m..uh...Nigel Tufner.” Dean lied, his eyes skimming round the room nervously until he spied an old newspaper. “I’m a reporter for the Chicago Tribune. You mind if I ask you a couple of questions about your partner.”
Daniel’s eyes widened, and he stared sadly at Dean. “Yeah. I do.” He said, his voice shaking. “I’m just trying to have a beer here.”
“It’s okay.” Dean stopped grinning, trying to look serious. “It won’t take long. I just want to hear the story in your words.”
“A week ago,” Danny stuttered. “My partner was sitting in that chair. Now he’s dead.” His voice caught. “You going to ambush me, here?”
“Sorry.” Dean said, insincerely. “I need to know what happened.”
Dean suddenly winced as Sam clamped his hand down, hard, on his shoulder. “Hey, how about leaving the poor guy alone?” he hissed, and Dean grimaced. He grabbed him, pushing Dean away from the table. “The man’s an officer” he grinned at Dean’s annoyed face. “Why don’t you show him a little respect?”
Dean stared at him for a moment, before slumping and walking outside the bar.
“You didn’t have to do that.” Mumbled Danny and Sam smiled.
“Of course I did.” Sam relaxed. “That guy’s a serious jerk. Let me buy you a beer.” Sam quickly turned to the barman, ordering two beers and moving to sit across from the policeman.
“Thanks.”
Meanwhile, Dean sat in the Impala, Black Sabbath blasting through the speakers as he watched the bar door, waiting for Sam to come out. Soon enough, Sam strolled back out, walking straight to the car. He got in, reaching for the stereo to turn off the loud music.
Dean smacked his hand away, turning the music down, before turning to frown at his brother. “You shoved me kind of hard in there, Sammy boy.”
“I had to sell it, didn’t I?” Sam laughed. “It’s acting.”
Dean groaned, “Yeah...” He turned the music off. “What did you find out from Gunderson, then?”
“Walter Kelly was a good cop.” Sam said, as Dean rolled his eyes. “Head of his class. Even-keeled.” Dean raised an eyebrow. “He had a bright future ahead of him.”
“What about at home?” Dean asked, tapping his hands on the steering wheel.
“He and his wife had a few fights, like everybody, but it was mostly smooth sailing.” Sam smiled weakly. “They were even talking about having kids.”
“All right,” Dean grinned. “So, either Kelly had some deep-seated crazy way to bust out, or something else did it to him.”
“Right.”
“What’d Gunderson tell you about the asylum?”
Sam frowned. “A lot.”
Dean grinned, twisting the keys in the ignition. “So, College Boy,” The car pulled away from the old bar. “Tell me more...”
*
The phone rang one more time before it was answered.
“Hi, it’s Chloe.” She said, leaning back against her own bright red locker, Pete to her left. “I was just calling to ask...”
“Sorry, busy.”
Chloe frowned, listening to the silence on the other end. “Dean?”
The other person has cleared.
“Chloe?” Pete asked, gazing at her intently. “Did they answer?”
“Dean didn’t.” Chloe sighed, checking her contacts for Sam’s number, and waiting for him to pick up instead.
The phone rang slowly, and she slumped against the locker. Pete grinned at her frustrated expression.
“Chloe?”
“Sam!” she smiled at Pete. “Just asking when you think you’ll have finished this case.” Pete shot her a questioning look and she blushed.
“Sorry, I’m busy.” Sam spoke through the phone. “I’ll see you later?”
He hung up and she grimaced. “Do they not even have enough time for a short conversation?”
“What do they work as?” Pete asked, wincing as Chloe shot him an angry look.
“I don’t know. Detectives or something.” She frowned. “Is their job so high on their priorities list that they can’t afford a tiny conversation with me?”
“Jealous?” Pete asked.
“Of what?” she lifted herself away from the lockers, stalking away from Pete. They passed through the brightly-coloured halls of Smallville High, Chloe’s anger only fading when she caught sight of the trademark blue jacket of Clark Kent.
Grinning, she snuck up behind him, following his eyes to see Tina Greer. She glanced back at Clark, watching as he stared intently at Tina. Pete stood by Clark, confused. Chloe grimaced as she spotted Tina’s jumper, something she was sure Lana Lang had been wearing the previous day.
“Hello Clark.” she grinned, Pete waving his hand in front of Clark’s face.
“Is everything okay?” Pete asked as Clark shook himself, turning his attention to his best friends.
“Have you guys ever noticed anything strange about Tina Greer?”
Chloe smirked, shaking her head as Clark started watching Tina once again. “Nothing that would require the intense concentration you’re exerting to look at her.”
Pete nodded in agreement, looking the dark-haired girl up and down. “The only thing weird about Tina is the amount of time she spends idolizing Lana.”
Chloe laughed, noting Tina’s Lana-esque hairstyle. “Yeah, she’s practically her clone.” Chloe turned to Pete as Lana and Whitney came out a nearby classroom, Lana attached to Whitney’s arm. As Tina called out to Lana, Chloe sighed. “Come on,” she tugged at Pete’s arm. “Let’s go.”
She rushed them towards the Torch office, quickly slumping into her desk chair.
“Clark and Lana, Dean, Sam and whatever they’re doing..” she snarked. “No one has time for me. I mean it’s like I’m right at the bottom of everyone’s priority list.”
Pete sniggered, snatching a rubber spider from the desk and starting to chuck it up and down. Chloe continued ranting, loading up the computer and starting a new article.
She sighed, writing all her anger onto the paper, her rant on it’s way to becoming the Torch’s front-page, when Lana poked her head through the window and the rubber spider made a squelching noise as it landed on the side of the desk.
“Pete.” Chloe snarled. “You throw that rubber spider one more time, and I’m going for my staple gun.”
“May I come in?” Lana’s voice pierced through room.
Chloe shot a look at her, before rolling her eyes. “The girl who writes for ‘The Pom-Pom Parade’ is, no surprise, out with mono.”
Pete laughed, sliding out the room, as Lana winced. She stepped further into the room, keeping her distance from Chloe’s desk.
“This week’s editorial?” Lana joked weakly.
Chloe raised an eyebrow, snorting into her coffee. “My semi-annual ‘Where are our Priorities’ rant.”
Lana grinned. “For what it’s worth, I really admire what you’ve done with the paper this year.”
“Well, that puts you in the majority of one.” Chloe gestured towards a small pile of hate mail, a small smile on her face. “I’m sorry about the pom-pom crack. Once I hit no prisoners mode, it’s kind of hard for me to shut it off.”
Chloe grimaced at the fact that Lana Langhad calmed her down, turning to the ex-cheerleader with a curious look.
“Actually, I admire you for that.” Lana said quickly. “You know who you are and you go for it.”
“Well, I appreciate the compliment.” Chloe grinned widely, suddenly feeling comfortable. “However, I know you haven’t come down to this hole to give me a pep talk.”
Lana blushed, sitting down next to Chloe. “The Torch prints the graduation speech every year, right?”
Chloe groaned. “Having read last year’s snore-fest, that’s an unfortunate yes. What year?”
“1977.”
Chloe stood up, smiling at the dark-haired girl. “That’s P.C.”
“P.C?”
“Pre-Computer.” explained Chloe. “When disco ruled the earth. Anything we have before then’s going to be H.C.”
“hard Copy.”
Chloe raised an eyebrow, impressed. “You catch on fast.” She walked over to the filing cabinet, opening the bottom drawer and rifling through it. “Let’s see, ’77. Here we go.” She pulled an aging paper out of the cabinet. “’Saturday Night Fever’ was their prom theme. Styx won ‘group of the century’ and..” Chloe paused, reading the final article one more time. “Wow. Someone got in the administration’s collective face.”
She passed the issue over to Lana, who read it quickly, frowning. “Due to the controversial nature of this year’s graduation address, the editors have elected not to run the text in this issue of the Torch.”
“Meaning, ironically, it’s probably the only one worth reading. You know, maybe I could track something down for you.” Chloe became excited, hoping for an investigation. “Do you know who gave the speech?”
“Yeah.” Lana blushed again, somehow managing to look like a Barbie doll. “My mother.”
*
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