Fic: Thicker Than Water (6a/10)
Fic: Thicker Than Water (6a/10)
Series: Special Projects
Summary: Vampires are not nice monsters. Especially vampires embroiled in a nest war.
Author: pen37
Beta: Clarksmuse
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters: Chloe, Sam, Dean
Pairing:Chloe/Dean
Rating: R for violence
This is a part of the Special Projects series. You can find the rest of the series here.
Written for the Crossovers100 challenge. Prompt #95 New Year The table is here.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6a, Part 6b, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10
The slow drip of a faucet seemed to reach through the darkness, and the sluggishness to tickle Dean’s awareness. He used the faint sound as a point of reference to find his way to consciousness. Gradually, his awareness widened as he came back to himself. He became aware of the hard surface beneath his head and the cold smoothness of porcelain under his neck.
Other sounds reached him now: sounds he shouldn’t be able to hear. Footsteps on the street. The roar of traffic as it passed through the intersection out front. And over all that, his hearing picked up the low murmur of voices out on the stairs outside the apartment.
“Is he awake yet?” That sounded like Sammy. Dean forced himself to focus on his brother’s voice. If he didn’t, he knew that the caphony of sound would soon cause him to loose his mind.
“Not Yet.” And that was Chloe. “Thank God.”
“I’m sorry to put this on you, Chlo.” Sam’s voice was all chick-flick emo. “I know it’s not easy.”
Her response was a tired sigh. “What did Bobby say?”
“Nothing I wanted to hear,” Sam said. “And Lenore isn’t answering her phone.”
“So we’re alone in this.” Chloe’s voice sounded bleak.
“Yeah.” Dean could even hear the silken slide of Sam’s fingers raking through his hair. The world suddenly seemed too damn loud. He covered his ears with his hands and tried to shut the sound out.
“Well,” Chloe said quietly. “My contacts at the CDC said it was a viral mutation. If I could be sure that they weren’t compromised by that damn vampire, I could ask them if they had some kind of ideas on how to neutralize it.”
“Even if they did find a way to neutralize it, could they reverse the mutation that it causes?” Sam sounded doubtful.
Dean remembered that Chloe’s mother was also mutated. Chloe had probably done her research. Both for her mother’s sake, and in those years where she knew that she was meteor-infected, but didn’t know what form her mutation would take.
“Unfortunately - the folks who know the most about mutation are the last ones I’d trust,” Chloe said grimly. “And there is no way we’re going to let some scientist do a Roswell on him the way Lex did to me. I would rather cut his head off myself.”
“Over my dead body,” Sam’s voice was hard and flat.
Chloe sighed in response.
His stomach rumbled, and once again his perceptions shifted. Instead of listening to Chloe and Sam’s voices, he could hear their heartbeats. Sam’s was deep and steady. Powerful. It took a strong heart to circulate blood throughout that massive frame. He felt his fangs slip out in response.
Chloe’s was higher and slightly different. Which had actually been the thing that kept him from biting her earlier. The strangeness of her heartbeat was like the audio equivalent of a mud pie. It just didn’t sound remotely edible. He remembered Chloe telling him that her entire body was laced with the meteor dust that had caused her own mutation. And that most of it was concentrated in her heart. Which explained the strangeness of her heartbeat: he bet her blood tasted awful.
In an effort to hold the hunger at bay, he zeroed in on her heartbeat. She sounded - closer. And he realized that she was coming toward the bathroom. He didn’t want her to see him like this. So he thought about her heartbeat until the urge to feed passed. Then he was able to pull the fangs back in.
He sat up to the accompaniment of rattling chains - and realized that he was shackled to the bathtub. In the darkness, Dean studied the bonds with preternatural vision.
He doubted that he could snap the sturdy links - Even with enhanced strength. But if he could find some kind of tool - a bit of wire, an ink pen, or something, he could pick the locks and be free in moments. He checked his pockets - and noted with a touch of pride that Sam had been thorough enough to take his tools away.
The sound of Chloe’s heartbeat held fixed right outside the bathroom door, and Dean shoved himself against the back of the tub in response.
“Dean?” Chloe cracked the door and looked through the space she created.
“I’m here,” he said.
“Didn’t think you’d gone anywhere,” she said quietly. “Can I come in?”
“You mean is it safe to come in?” he asked bitterly. “I don’t think I’ll bite you Chloe. With all that space dust in you - you don’t sound like you taste good.”
“Should I be offended by that?” she sounded amused - in that gallows kind of way.
“Think of it as fang repellant,” Dean snarked.
“Don’t call yourself that,” Chloe said as she opened the door cautiously.
“Why not?”
She was carrying her LED, which was harsh on Dean’s eyes. He found himself shying back, turning away from the light. In a moment, she’d exchanged the bright portable light for a couple of votive candles - which produced barely enough illumination for her. Technically, he supposed that he didn’t need any light now.
“It sounds derogatory. Like meteor freak.”
Dean frowned. “How about monster?”
“Dean,” Chloe sighed.
She seemed to forget that he could see perfectly in the near darkness. Now he used that ability to get a good look at her. Under what she’d obviously thought was the cover of low-light, she’d allowed her face to become unguarded. She looked tired. More tired than she should - given that her mutation seemed to give her boundless energy.
But now - her hair was disheveled, and her eyes seemed to droop at half-mast. She had a canvas bag slung over one shoulder and a tranq gun loaded with what he assumed was dead-man’s blood where her short-grip .45 usually rode. One of their machetes was clutched in her too-small hands.
“You know --” he chuckled.
“What?”
“Just thinking. Blonde monster hunter. Keeping her vampire boyfriend chained up in a bathtub. We need to be careful. People might talk.”
She let out a disbelieving snort of her own. “Please, Dean. No Buffy references,” she said wearily. She leaned against the door and slid down until she was seated there.
“You’re the one who made me watch it,” Dean said. “I know what you and Sammy are trying to do. And I appreciate it. But it’s not going to work, Chloe,” he said flatly. “There’s no going back.”
“We don’t know that,” Chloe said tiredly.
“Yes we do, damnit.” Dean slammed his hand down on the side of the tub. “Chloe, this isn’t a condition that you learn to live with. It’s not like I’ve got diabetes or some kind of peanut allergy.
“Look, just have a little faith in Sam.”
“Why? So we can draw this out and make it hurt as much as possible? This is like the crossroads deal all over again. Sam just doesn’t know how to let go.”
“Sam couldn’t let his other half go any more than you could, Dean. You’re alive. That’s something,” Chloe said. “At least Sam’s got a little more to work with than a cooling body, a cigar box and an intersection.”
Dean rested his head against the back of the tub.
“Here,” Chloe tossed him the canvas bag. He looked inside, and then up at her with a raised eyebrow.
“Blood?”
“Don’t worry. It’s donated. I don’t want you starving.”
“Yeah, that’d be a real tragedy,” Dean frowned. He could already feel his fangs budding again. He shut his eyes, and forced them back. Then he looked up at Chloe again. “Could you - not watch this?”
She nodded, then turned and left the room.
He sighed. Then bit into the bag of blood. It was cold and completely unappetizing, but he forced it down anyway. He needed nourishment. Particularly if he was going to keep his family safe from some kind of mindless feeding frenzy.
Series: Special Projects
Summary: Vampires are not nice monsters. Especially vampires embroiled in a nest war.
Author: pen37
Beta: Clarksmuse
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters: Chloe, Sam, Dean
Pairing:Chloe/Dean
Rating: R for violence
This is a part of the Special Projects series. You can find the rest of the series here.
Written for the Crossovers100 challenge. Prompt #95 New Year The table is here.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6a, Part 6b, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10
The slow drip of a faucet seemed to reach through the darkness, and the sluggishness to tickle Dean’s awareness. He used the faint sound as a point of reference to find his way to consciousness. Gradually, his awareness widened as he came back to himself. He became aware of the hard surface beneath his head and the cold smoothness of porcelain under his neck.
Other sounds reached him now: sounds he shouldn’t be able to hear. Footsteps on the street. The roar of traffic as it passed through the intersection out front. And over all that, his hearing picked up the low murmur of voices out on the stairs outside the apartment.
“Is he awake yet?” That sounded like Sammy. Dean forced himself to focus on his brother’s voice. If he didn’t, he knew that the caphony of sound would soon cause him to loose his mind.
“Not Yet.” And that was Chloe. “Thank God.”
“I’m sorry to put this on you, Chlo.” Sam’s voice was all chick-flick emo. “I know it’s not easy.”
Her response was a tired sigh. “What did Bobby say?”
“Nothing I wanted to hear,” Sam said. “And Lenore isn’t answering her phone.”
“So we’re alone in this.” Chloe’s voice sounded bleak.
“Yeah.” Dean could even hear the silken slide of Sam’s fingers raking through his hair. The world suddenly seemed too damn loud. He covered his ears with his hands and tried to shut the sound out.
“Well,” Chloe said quietly. “My contacts at the CDC said it was a viral mutation. If I could be sure that they weren’t compromised by that damn vampire, I could ask them if they had some kind of ideas on how to neutralize it.”
“Even if they did find a way to neutralize it, could they reverse the mutation that it causes?” Sam sounded doubtful.
Dean remembered that Chloe’s mother was also mutated. Chloe had probably done her research. Both for her mother’s sake, and in those years where she knew that she was meteor-infected, but didn’t know what form her mutation would take.
“Unfortunately - the folks who know the most about mutation are the last ones I’d trust,” Chloe said grimly. “And there is no way we’re going to let some scientist do a Roswell on him the way Lex did to me. I would rather cut his head off myself.”
“Over my dead body,” Sam’s voice was hard and flat.
Chloe sighed in response.
His stomach rumbled, and once again his perceptions shifted. Instead of listening to Chloe and Sam’s voices, he could hear their heartbeats. Sam’s was deep and steady. Powerful. It took a strong heart to circulate blood throughout that massive frame. He felt his fangs slip out in response.
Chloe’s was higher and slightly different. Which had actually been the thing that kept him from biting her earlier. The strangeness of her heartbeat was like the audio equivalent of a mud pie. It just didn’t sound remotely edible. He remembered Chloe telling him that her entire body was laced with the meteor dust that had caused her own mutation. And that most of it was concentrated in her heart. Which explained the strangeness of her heartbeat: he bet her blood tasted awful.
In an effort to hold the hunger at bay, he zeroed in on her heartbeat. She sounded - closer. And he realized that she was coming toward the bathroom. He didn’t want her to see him like this. So he thought about her heartbeat until the urge to feed passed. Then he was able to pull the fangs back in.
He sat up to the accompaniment of rattling chains - and realized that he was shackled to the bathtub. In the darkness, Dean studied the bonds with preternatural vision.
He doubted that he could snap the sturdy links - Even with enhanced strength. But if he could find some kind of tool - a bit of wire, an ink pen, or something, he could pick the locks and be free in moments. He checked his pockets - and noted with a touch of pride that Sam had been thorough enough to take his tools away.
The sound of Chloe’s heartbeat held fixed right outside the bathroom door, and Dean shoved himself against the back of the tub in response.
“Dean?” Chloe cracked the door and looked through the space she created.
“I’m here,” he said.
“Didn’t think you’d gone anywhere,” she said quietly. “Can I come in?”
“You mean is it safe to come in?” he asked bitterly. “I don’t think I’ll bite you Chloe. With all that space dust in you - you don’t sound like you taste good.”
“Should I be offended by that?” she sounded amused - in that gallows kind of way.
“Think of it as fang repellant,” Dean snarked.
“Don’t call yourself that,” Chloe said as she opened the door cautiously.
“Why not?”
She was carrying her LED, which was harsh on Dean’s eyes. He found himself shying back, turning away from the light. In a moment, she’d exchanged the bright portable light for a couple of votive candles - which produced barely enough illumination for her. Technically, he supposed that he didn’t need any light now.
“It sounds derogatory. Like meteor freak.”
Dean frowned. “How about monster?”
“Dean,” Chloe sighed.
She seemed to forget that he could see perfectly in the near darkness. Now he used that ability to get a good look at her. Under what she’d obviously thought was the cover of low-light, she’d allowed her face to become unguarded. She looked tired. More tired than she should - given that her mutation seemed to give her boundless energy.
But now - her hair was disheveled, and her eyes seemed to droop at half-mast. She had a canvas bag slung over one shoulder and a tranq gun loaded with what he assumed was dead-man’s blood where her short-grip .45 usually rode. One of their machetes was clutched in her too-small hands.
“You know --” he chuckled.
“What?”
“Just thinking. Blonde monster hunter. Keeping her vampire boyfriend chained up in a bathtub. We need to be careful. People might talk.”
She let out a disbelieving snort of her own. “Please, Dean. No Buffy references,” she said wearily. She leaned against the door and slid down until she was seated there.
“You’re the one who made me watch it,” Dean said. “I know what you and Sammy are trying to do. And I appreciate it. But it’s not going to work, Chloe,” he said flatly. “There’s no going back.”
“We don’t know that,” Chloe said tiredly.
“Yes we do, damnit.” Dean slammed his hand down on the side of the tub. “Chloe, this isn’t a condition that you learn to live with. It’s not like I’ve got diabetes or some kind of peanut allergy.
“Look, just have a little faith in Sam.”
“Why? So we can draw this out and make it hurt as much as possible? This is like the crossroads deal all over again. Sam just doesn’t know how to let go.”
“Sam couldn’t let his other half go any more than you could, Dean. You’re alive. That’s something,” Chloe said. “At least Sam’s got a little more to work with than a cooling body, a cigar box and an intersection.”
Dean rested his head against the back of the tub.
“Here,” Chloe tossed him the canvas bag. He looked inside, and then up at her with a raised eyebrow.
“Blood?”
“Don’t worry. It’s donated. I don’t want you starving.”
“Yeah, that’d be a real tragedy,” Dean frowned. He could already feel his fangs budding again. He shut his eyes, and forced them back. Then he looked up at Chloe again. “Could you - not watch this?”
She nodded, then turned and left the room.
He sighed. Then bit into the bag of blood. It was cold and completely unappetizing, but he forced it down anyway. He needed nourishment. Particularly if he was going to keep his family safe from some kind of mindless feeding frenzy.