Fic: Grey Ghost(3/7)
Fic: Grey Ghost(3/7)
Series: Special Projects
Summary: A drowning in a dry swimming pool draw the crew to Long Beach. Did we mention that the pool was on a haunted cruise ship?
Author: pen37
Beta: Clarksmuse
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters: Chloe, Sam, Dean
Pairing:Chloe/Dean
Rating: pg-13
This is a part of the Special Projects series. You can find the rest of the series here.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7
When Sam finally found Chloe, she was toe-to-toe, arguing with the hotel manager in a white tuxedo shirt and black jacket. Sam tilted his head, and read a name tag that said Jacob Harley.
“If you had told me that you were here, we could have made accommodations for you in advance,” Mr. Harley said. “As it is, we have to juggle your presence with that of the television crew.”
“I don't see how two guys with digital Sony cameras count as a hardship to schedule around,” Chloe crossed her arms.
“Still, your editor could have given us a courtesy telephone call,” Mr. Harley frowned.
Chloe's own expression mirrored the hotel managers as she shook her head. “Usually we do. We've been a little distracted lately.”
“At the Daily Planet?” He raised an eyebrow. “I'm afraid that it doesn't say a lot for your professionalism.”
Sam walked up behind Chloe and put a hand on her shoulder before she ended up unleashing the verbal smack down and getting them thrown out of the hotel. “What seems to be the problem?” Sam asked her.
Chloe gestured under Mr. Harley's nose. “I can't arrange for access to the whole ship. This gentleman said that a television crew from The History Channel is taking up their time. So we're getting the second-class treatment.”
“That's okay,” Sam told her in a placating manner. “We'll just have to remember to tell our readers that The Daily Planet is second rate compared to a reality-tv ghost-chasing show.”
“Now wait a minute!” Mr. Harley protested. “I didn't say that!”
“Then what did you say?” Chloe asked.
Mr. Harley closed his eyes in a bid for patience. “Look, why don't you talk to the television crew? If they agree to let you go poking around the hull with them, then I don't mind. But I can't let this hotel be treated like a three-ring-circus.”
Chloe nodded her assent grudgingly. “Thank you sir. We appreciate your co-operation.”
After the hotel manager walked away, Sam tilted his head and looked down at Chloe. “So what was that about?”
She looked away. “I'm off my game right now. Normally, I'd set something like this up in advance.”
“Yeah, I get that.” Sam said. “The question is why? What's going on in your head?”
In response, she lowered her head as if studying her shoes.
“Does this have anything to do with Dean's proposal?”
“Sam,” she shook her head and looked up at him with pleading eyes. “”Please. Not now.”
“We may as well, since it doesn't look like either you or Dean are capable of getting over your issues long enough to focus on this hunt.” Sam stuck his hands in his pockets and pinned her with a look. He raised his eyebrows meaningfully. “Seriously, Chloe. What's going on in your head?”
With a melancholoy huff, she tucked her own hands into her pockets, and looked away. "Did you know that my folks are still married?”
“No,” Sam shook his head. “I guess I never gave it much thought.”
She nodded slowly, her green eyes fixed on a point somewhere in the distance. "Yeah. Mom's in an institution, and Dad's in France. But he hasn't thought once of filing for divorce. I called him today and asked him why. You know what he said?”
“What?”
“That's what marriage is,” She shrugged. “I just - Dean asked me so suddenly. What if . . . What if it's a mistake?" She looked up at him, and in her haste to get the next words out, she stumbled over her own tongue. "I mean, if it's a mistake, it's a pretty big mistake. And I'm like my dad: I wouldn't undo it.”
His face twisted in a mask of disbelief. “What?”
“I just --”
“You don't feel that way about my brother, do you Chloe? Like he's a mistake?”
“No! But he could feel that way --”
“He doesn't,” Sam made a slashing motion with his hand to metaphorically cut off Chloe's line of thought.
“But he could change his mind.” She looked up at Sam with an expression of naked vulnerability.
Sam stared at her incredulously. “That's it? That's why you're putting Dean off? Because you're scared?”
Chloe nodded sheepishly. “Sounds silly when you say it, doesn't it?”
In response, Sam enveloped her in a warm hug. “It's not silly, Chloe. You feel it, so it's not silly. But maybe it's unfair to Dean.”
“How so?” Chloe asked.
“Well, before you start deciding for him whether he would want you. Don't you think you should ask him how he feels about the subject?”
“I guess,” she sighed. “My Dad said that same thing. He said I was making mountains out of gopher holes.”
“Look Chloe,” Sam said. “I know Dean. And I think I'm a pretty good judge of you by now. Whether the two of you get married or not, I think it's safe to say that you're stuck with us. So why not get married?”
She released a cleansing breath. “I'm starting to see how you argued your brother out of hell,” she chuckled.
“I know what I want and I go for it,” Sam shrugged. “And in this case, I want my brother happy, and my best friend to be my sister-in-law.”
“You know, my dad thinks I'm starting my own harem.”
Sam stumbled as he walked along side of her. “What gave him that idea?”
“Dunno. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you keep getting in the middle of Dean's proposal. And I find that ironic, considering how invested in your sex life he seems to be.”
“We just - want each other to be happy.” Sam tucked his hands in his pockets and shrugged.
“So, segueing right along.” Chloe said.
“Huh?” Sam raised an eyebrow. Then remembered that they were in the middle of a hunt. “Oh, right. The ghost hunters.”
“We should find them, and invite ourselves along on their tour.”
“Right,” Sam nodded. “Who are they?”
“Well, Mr. Harley said that they call themselves The Hellhounds.”
Sam stopped, and stared at Chloe. “You're kidding me, right?”
* * *
The pool wasn't extremely fancy. It had a couple of staircases that descended down to the deck level, and the whole thing was walled off by a waist-high glass rail. When Dean walked in, there was a ghost tour going on, so he joined the back of the crowd, and listened in for a little bit.
“This is one of the most actively haunted areas of the ship,” the tour guide - a woman in a black coctail dress - said. “It's pretty common to feel cold spots throughout the room, and if you'll watch closely, you can sometimes see wet footprints alongside the pool.”
As she spoke, Dean noticed that the vents alongside the wall were piping in mist and cool air.
“During World War Two, the Queen Mary was outfitted as a troop transport. During that time, she could carry an entire division of troops:sixteen thousand men. Sir Winston Churchill said that using The Queen Mary, and the Queen Elizabeth to transport troops had probably shortened the war by about a year.”
“Of course during that time, they didn't have the space for letting the troops swim. The pool was drained, and they installed standee bunks.
The tour guide continued with her lecture as she led the tour out a side door marked women's changing room. Dean rolled his eyes at the theatrics, and then looked around carefully to make sure no one was watching. When he was sure that he was alone, he vaulted over the glass railing, and into the pool.
The drop was about twelve feet. He'd braced for the shock of a hard landing. But to his surprise, he landed lightly. Almost as if he'd jumped from Bobby's porch to the soft ground beneath it.
“Well, chalk that up to good genes,” He chuckled. It looked like he got a little more out of this Dhampir deal than just faster reflexes and better stamina.
The pool itself was smooth and featureless. It sloped away from him in a gradual easy climb to the far end, where the depth looked to be about three feet.
He pulled the EMF meter out of his coat pocket, and turned it on. But just as Sam had said, the thing registered off the charts.
“There's something here alright,” he muttered. “Lot of something.”
“What are you doing down there?”
Dean turned, and looked up to see a couple of guys with video cameras. The one who spoke had a familiar voice - but he couldn't quite place it.
“Jumped,” he said shortly. While the two of them were looking at each other in confusion, he vaulted to the pool stairs, and pulled himself out. Oh yeah. This Dhampier thing rocked.
“Jumped? How did you keep from breaking your --” He broke off as he turned back to Dean, and started to find him right next to them. “How did you?”
“Climbed,” Dean said shortly. Now that he was up on the deck, he recognized the two guys as Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spengler, the two goofballs that ran The Hellhounds Lair website back in Richardson, Texas. “What are you two doing here?”
Spengler and Zedmore looked at each other with those knowing, expressions. Then Zeddmore spoke. “We're running a serious investigation for this little network on cable. Maybe you've heard of it? The History Channel?”
Dean looked down to hide a grin. It appeared that those two yahoos hadn't changed much over the years. “Really? So why's The Hitler Channel interested in this old tub?”
“Oh The Hilter Channel?” Zeddmore looked at Spengler with a grin. “That's cute.”
“Definitely cute,” Spengler agreed.
Zeddmore turned back to Dean, and shot him a superior look. “You happen to be standing in one of the most haunted rooms of the most haunted place in America, my friend. This poolroom is just filled with spectral activity.”
“Filled with it.” Spengler said emphatically.
Dean looked at them with a painted-on, serous expression, and nodded sagely. A hissing sound caught his attention, and he glanced behind The Hellhounds to see the air vent from earlier leaking cold air out onto the decking.
“Hey Ed,” Spengler grabbed Zeddmore's arm. “You feel that?”
Zeddmore looked around the room in confusion, like he could see it with his eyes or something. Then he gave this spastic, all-over twitch. “Cold spot!” he announced excitedly. “There is a definite presence in this room! Get the camera rolling, Harry. We might capture something.”
Dean backed out of the way, and covered his mouth to hide a grin. When The Hellhounds looked his way again, he tried to turn it into one of those thoughtful expressions.
“Dean?” In the tiled room, Chloe's voice echoed like a clear bell.
All three men glanced up to see her and Sam standing at the top of the stairs. The taller Winchester looked over at The Hellhounds, and grinned. “Oh good, we were just looking for you two guys.”
If The Hellhounds heard him, they were oblivious. Both of them seemed to have eyes only for Chloe.
“Helloooooo nurse,” Zeddmore muttered.
“Dude, she's hotter than Buffy,” Spengler whispered.
“Blasphemy!” Zeddmore hissed. “No one is hotter than Buffy.”
“Except for Xena,”
“Right.”
“But she is a close third.”
“Oh totally!”
Dean scowled at the goofballs with the cameras, but by the time she'd reached him he was all smiles again. She looked up at him, and quirked an eyebrow as if she hadn't just heard every single whispered word of the geek squad as they ogled her. “So who are your friends?”
Dean grinned at her as he pointed to the Hellhounds. “Darlin, this is Winston Zeddmore and Egon Spengler.”
“The Ghostbusters?” Chloe gave him an incredulous look.
“Actually, it's Edward Zeddmore and Harry Spengler,” Zeddmore said. The two Hellhounds moved across the decking to shake her hand so fast that Dean wondered why they didn't slip and fall in the puddles of their own drool.
He shot an exasperated look at Sam, who had come down the stairs to lean against the wall and watch with his own bemused expression. Chloe shook both their hands and greeted them with a genuine smile that, once again, proved that she was oblivious to the fact that men found her attractive.
“Chloe Sullivan,” she said by way of greeting.
The two Hellhounds looked at each other with wide eyes, and then back at Chloe with twin looks of disbelief. “Chloe Sullivan? You're kidding, right? As in The Smallville Torch Chloe Sulllivan?”Zeddmore asked.
Chloe blinked at that. Sam and Dean exchanged confused looks. “That was my highschool paper,” She said slowly.
“You're that Chloe Sullivan. We read your stuff! We read all of your stuff. The bug boy? Firestarter Coach? That was awesome stuff, man!” The bespeckled Hellhound gushed.
Dean rolled his eyes. It would figure that Chloe was a mini-celebrity among dorks.
Chloe shot a helpless, slightly-skittish look at Dean. “Thanks?”
“Actually,” Sam stepped forward to stand behind Chloe. Both of his hands rested on her shoulders to prevent her escape from the geek squad. “Chloe could use your help.”
“She could?” Spengler said. At the words, Zeddmore seemed to perk up like a puppy.
“I could?” Chloe looked at Sam with an incredulous expression.
“Yeah,” Sam nodded, and shot her a look that told her to follow his lead. “You see, she's on assignment for The Daily Planet right now. Doing a story on paranormal investigation as infotainment. And we were sort of wondering if she could shadow you while you conduct your investigation. Being as you two are big-time Hollywood paranormal investigators.”
Zeddmore and Spengler looked at each other, and preened. “Well,” Zeddmore said. “Who are we to deny the public?”
Chloe grinned a wide, toothy grin that didn't quite reach her eyes. “Great,” she said tightly. “Awesome.”
“In fact, why don't we help you as well?” Sam said.
“Huh?” Dean blinked at that.
“Yeah,” Sam shot a pleading look at Dean. “While Chloe's shadowing you, we'll poke around the ship and try to find the most haunted locations for you two to film from.”
Zeddmore and Spengler looked at each other. Then they looked at Chloe. Then they looked at each other again, and nodded slowly. Chloe, in turn, glared at Sam.
“Sounds good,” Zeddmore said. “Why don't we all meet for dinner in the Promenade Cafe around six?”
Sam nodded. “See you guys then.”
Both Zeddmore and Spengler hooked an arm around Chloe's arms, and ushered her toward the women's changing room where the last tour had gone. She pulled back at the doorway to glare back at Sam, and then allowed herself to be pulled away.
Once they were gone, Dean thumped Sam on the back of the head. “Dude! What was that about?”
“We needed access to the ship. Now we can go anywhere we want, and Chloe can keep those two safe.”
“Yeah? Except for the part where they're hittin' on her.” Dean scowled.
“Will you relax,” Sam scoffed. “Chloe can handle herself.”
Dean sighed. “Yeah, I guess you're right.” He grinned. “Least it's not me she's mad at.”
Sam shrugged. “What's the worst that could happen?”
“You do remember the time she glued us together, don't you? She's like a super-genius when it comes to this stuff.”
“Great,”Sam shook his head. “Whose bright idea was this again?”