Fic: Bad Company (4/7)
Fic: Bad Company (4/7)
Series: Special Projects
Summary: Dean and Chloe get in serious trouble. Will Sam realize it in time to save them?
Author: pen37
Beta: Strangevisitor7
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters: Chloe, Sam, Dean, Sarah
Pairing:Chloe/Dean Sam/Sarah
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
The Queen Industries jet was a long, black, sleek, Gulf Stream II with a large green Q on the side. Its landing was smoother than Sam's rental had been. Watching the streamlined bird touch down, Sam began to get an inkling that there was wealthy and then there was wealthy. And while his family suddenly had a lot of disposable income, it was probably pocket change compared to some of the big boys on the Justice League.
Which was pretty comforting, actually. They may have had cash, but at least they didn't have stoopid cash. It was okay if folks like Ollie were stupid rich, because apparently they could afford to throw money into projects like the JLA and shuttling experimental equipment out to reasonably comfortable hunters.
But Sam had a feeling that if he, Chloe and Dean had any more money, Dean would do something dumb with it like buying Ireland for Chloe as a wedding gift. And then what would they do with something like that?
He straitened automatically as Oliver Queen got out of the jet. The billionaire shook Sam's hand, and then waved him over to the storage compartment where the seismic scanner was stored. The two of them carried the parts to the trunk of Bobby's car.
Although he looked a little out of place in his cashmere overcoat and Italian shoes, Ollie stepped into the old, beat-up Chevelle as if it were a limo. Sam grinned to himself as he climbed into the driver's seat. Privately, he marveled at the wide range of people his lifestyle had put him in contact with.
“So where's Watchtower?” Ollie asked.
“Houston,” Sam's knuckles tightened around the steering wheel. Although he tried not to show he was concerned, the blonde billionaire must have picked up on it.
“Is there a problem?”
Sam sighed at that. “She and Dean were investigating a possible Blood Magic cult. Now - they aren't answering their phones. It could be nothing.” He said.
“But you don't think so,” Oliver's face was serious. “So why aren't you in Houston, Sam?”
“Because there's a job here.” Sam said. “First we have to put down a restless spirit before it hurts anyone else. Then we have to locate a hunting family named MacKenzie. At this point, with so much going on and no definite proof that Dean and Chloe are in trouble, I just have to trust that they can take care of themselves. Because if Dean knew I abandoned a hunt to check up on him --” Sam trailed off.
“He'd kick your ass?” Ollie smirked.
“You don't have any brothers, do you?” Sam sighed.
“Not by birth,” Ollie's face turned serious. “But when I founded the League - I inherited a family. And most of them needed a big brother to watch out for them. If I thought one of the others abandoned a mission for me - I'd be pretty hacked off.”
“That's a good way of putting it,” Sam said. “It doesn't keep me from worrying, though.”
Oliver nodded once, curtly, and reached for his phone.
“What are you doing?” Sam asked.
“You may not be able to check into things at this point,” the billionaire said. “But the League is like family. We watch out for our own. And Watchtower's one of mine. By extension, you and your brother are too. So I don't see any harm in sending someone over to Houston to check into things.”
He waved off Sam's half-hearted protest before he could make it: any argument Sam had died on his lips. Really, he didn't feel much like disagreeing with Oliver. His family might be fiercely independent, but Sam was willing to accept help where Dean was involved.
The billionaire quickly punched in a string of numbers, and then held the phone up to his ear. “Dinah, it's Ollie. I need some help.”
He looked uncomfortable, and shifted in his seat. “That was today? Oops?”
Sam looked away, trying to give Oliver a sense of privacy. Judging by the way his voice rose in octave, he was completely smitten with this Dinah person, whoever she was. Jo had been right in that Dean had nothing to worry about in regards to competition for Chloe from Oliver Queen.
“Look Dinah, can we talk about this later? I'm calling with business.”
He frowned as the woman on the other end of the line responded. “If anyone's available, could you have them head to Houston? Watchtower and Guardian haven't checked in. I know how the boy scout gets about family. That's why I'm calling you, instead. It may be nothing, and I'd hate to worry him. Thanks,” he said softly. “Love you too.”
Ollie hung up the phone, his expression eerily like Dean's this-chick-flick-moment-never-happened face and that forced Sam to automatically hide his amusement.
“Okay,” Ollie said. “Now what?”
“Now we'll meet up with Bobby and Sarah at the hotel. Bobby'll have procured a Texas Department of Transportation truck and a couple of uniforms to make us look like a road crew. Once we get there, we'll put out a couple of signs and use your scanner to tell us where to dig.”
Sam looked at Ollie's attire pointedly. “Hope you brought your work boots.”
“We started out as five guys in Mrs. Kent's barn,” Oliver said with a smirk. “You think I don't own a pair of work boots?”
Sam automatically fell back on Chloe's tried-and-true response. “No comment.”
* * *
Bobby raised an eyebrow over Oliver's manner of dress, but otherwise let it pass.
Once they'd all changed, he drove them out to El Tecolote Road. While Sarah set out Road Closed signs, Oliver walked the scanner through slow, deliberate passes over the haunted stretch of blacktop.
At last, he stopped in the center of the road. “Found it,” he said.
“Good,” Sarah took the scanner from his hands, turned and headed toward the nearby re-located cemetery.
“Where are you going with that?” Sam asked with a confused look.
“I've got a list of who is supposed to be buried in that cemetery,” Sarah said. “Now I'm going to figure out which grave is empty, and cross-reference it to the list. That way, if a salt and burn doesn't stop the spirits, we know which direction to search next.”
“Good idea,” Sam nodded.
“She thinks of everything, doesn't she?” Oliver said with respect in his voice.
“She's pretty amazing,” Sam grinned.
“Ladies?” Bobby looked at them with an annoyed expression. “If you're ready? I'm not getting any younger here.”
“Sorry Bobby,” the two of them chorused.
Sam manned the Jackhammer and before long, they had punched through the asphalt. Then, Bobby pulled three shovels from the truck and they began to dig.
“You guys do this all the time?” Oliver asked between shovelfuls.
“Yeah,” Sam answered. “Why?”
“Just realizing where all the grave desecration charges on your rap sheet came from.”
“Yeah,” Sam shrugged. “It's been a very Stephen King inspired life.”
Oliver shrugged philosophically. “It's not as if I've never done anything illegal in the pursuit of justice.”
“If you don't mind,” Bobby turned to them with a look of annoyance on his face. “We're tryin' to dig a hole here.”
The two of them grinned at each other like kids who'd been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. In response, the old hunter rolled his eyes, and turned back to digging. With renewed vigor, Sam and Oliver set to work next to Bobby. Before long, Sam's shovel struck a skull fragment. They quickly scraped the dirt back, revealing a yellowed set of old bones.
“Now what?” Oliver asked.
“Lighter fluid, rock salt and a match,” Sam said. He climbed out of the hole, then helped Bobby out. The old hunter relieved their equipment as Ollie climbed out of the excavation.
As they poured Lighter fluid and salt into the grave, Sam saw Sarah running toward them. He took one look at her disheveled hair, pale face and heavy breathing and realized that something was wrong.
“Sarah?” What is it?”
She pointed back to the cemetery. “All of the graves were full,”
Sam looked back at their newly-excavated hole. “What?”
She nodded. “But one of them was disturbed.”
Sam looked at Bobby in askance.
The old hunter pushed his hat back, and scratched his head. “You go figure this out,” he said. “I'll finish up here.”
Sam nodded and he and Oliver followed Sarah back to the relocated graves. She pointed out the freshly turned one, and they started digging.
“So has this ever happened before?” Ollie asked.
“No,” Sam said. “But this is a business of firsts.”
This time, their shovels struck the half-rotten wooden lid of an old coffin.
“Signs of recent decay,” Oliver pointed to the wood. “That wouldn't be there if it hadn't been exposed to the air not long ago.”
The younger Winchester nodded curtly as he cleared the dirt from the lid, and then pried it up. Instantly, the air was filled with the stench of decay.
“Oh God!” Sarah groaned out as she lurched away from the grave.
Sam looked over to see Oliver recoil, and then hold the sleeve of his coveralls to his nose. The billionaire was surveying the body with keen eyes. “How old was this burial supposed to be?”
Sam's eyes flicked up to the headstone. “1935.”
“He's a little fresh,” Oliver observed wryly.
“Occasionally that happens,” Sam said with a shrug.
“Yeah?” Ollie nodded. He then leaned over the casket and picked up something small and black. He handed it to Sam.
Sam took it by two fingers gingerly. Once he was holding it, he could see that it was a black trifold nylon wallet with a Velcro closure.
“I don't think that surfer wallets were popular back then.”
Sam gave Ollie a nod of acknowledgment, then he opened the wallet. The name on the license inside made his blood run cold. Stanley MacKenzie.
“Dean,” Sam breathed.