Fic: But Deliver Us From Evil (8/8)
Fic: But Deliver Us From Evil (8/8)
By: Pen37
Beta: clarksmuse
Rating: PG-13
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters: Chloe, Sam, Dean, Jo
Pairing: Chloe/Dean, Sam/Jo
Disclaimer: Not Mine, Fun only.
Summary: While hunting Kelpie, things go very wrong for Sam, Dean and Chloe.
There are Author's Notes at the end of the fic.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8
This is part of the Special Projects series. The rest of the fics can be found here.
Written for the Crossovers100 challenge. Prompt #30 Death. The table is here.
Dean thought he heard Chloe’s voice, but it may have just been the radio. He was riding shotgun, just where she’d put him. But when he glanced back to check on Sammy, he wasn’t there. He looked over at the driver’s seat and saw that Dad, not Chloe, was there.
“How ‘you doing, Sport?”
“Dad?” He looked around the Impala and was reminded of hunting together back when Sammy was away at college. “Am I dead?”
“Not yet, Dean,” John said. “But things aren’t looking so good.”
“So is this just a dream?”
“That’s one way of looking at it,” John nodded. “Some people - they get a choice. They can keep fighting, or they can give up.”
“Is that how you look at it?” Dean asked. “Giving up?”
John flexed his hands on the wheel. “It’s nice. Being behind the wheel like this. I didn’t really drive the Impala after I gave it to you. I kind of miss this.”
Dean recognized his own diversion tactics when he saw them.
“Dad - I’m tired. I’ve been tired for a long time.”
“What about looking after Sammy?”
“Sammy can look after himself,” Dean said. “He’s been taking care of me almost as much as I’ve been taking care of him. He’s got Jo now, too.”
“And what about Chloe?”
Dean paused. “What about her?”
“I like her,” John said. “She reminds me of Mary. Both of them are stubborn as a mule.”
“Like someone else I know,” Dean looked pointedly at John.
“So is that how it’s to be then?” John asked. “You saddle Bill Harvelle’s little girl with your responsibility, and then you leave your girl all alone to deal with things that you promised that you’d protect her from.”
“She’s not my girl.”
“She’s your girl, Dean. You’ve just got to convince her.” John looked sideways at Dean. Then, he turned and looked out across his knuckles at the endless expanse of blackness that stretched out beyond the Impala’s headlights. “I carried the guilt with me. Not being there to protect Mary. She was mine.” He shut his eyes. “You protect what’s yours. That’s your job when you love someone. You protect them. Even if it’s not easy, or convenient. Even if they don’t want it. It’s a man’s duty. It’s important.”
“Yes, Sir.” Years of conditioning left Dean nodding, even though he wasn’t quite sure what he was agreeing to.
“Good, son,” John nodded in satisfaction. “The three of you are right in the middle of something. I don’t think any of you know how big it is though. And before it’s over, you’ll need each other. But the only thing holding the three of you together - is you.”
Dean nodded again.
“You’re important, Dean.”
His automatic denial died on his lips as John pinned him with a gaze. “You always were. You were the glue that held us together.”
“I don’t know what to do, Dad,” Dean confessed around the lump in his throat. “There are so many more demons out there. For every one we kill, three more spring up to take it’s place. And they’re all looking for their general.”
“You do what your gut tells you,” John said. “Protect the family. Take care of your girl. Send every single one of those sons of bitches that you can find back to Hell.”
Dean nodded. “My girl, huh?”
“Just don’t let on like you know,” John smiled at him. “Women like to be pursued.”
“Alright,” Dean nodded, as if psyching himself up for some unforeseen pain. “Will I remember any of this?”
“On some level,” John said. “Would you like some advice?”
Dean raised an eyebrow in response.
“Try to find joy in the little moments. The things I did - pretty soon the monsters all bled together. The things I remembered were the little things. Mary’s laugh. The first time I took you shooting. The look on Sammy’s face when I got back from a hunt early enough to see him in that play-thing.”
“Our Town,” Dean said.
“Our Town,” John nodded. “The things you think are little things. They’re what you keep. I wish - I’d paid more attention when they were happening.”
“You were saving lives, dad.” Dean blinked as his eyes prickled. “I understood that . . . Sam understands now.”
“I’m not saying that I would do things differently, Dean. There’s personal, and there’s important. What I did was important. But I just wish I hadn’t been so caught up in what was important, that I failed to pay attention to what was personal.”
Dean nodded. “I’ll try to remember that.”
“Do that.” John fixed him with a steady gaze. “It’s time to go now.”
Dean hesitated. There was something unsaid left between them. “Dad?”
“I know, Sport.”
***
Dean’s eyes jerked open, and he was aware of two things at once. Firstly, his right side felt like it had been dipped in honey and then left out for the fire ants. Secondly, he was in a very pink room. He looked around at the little ponies with rainbows, balloons, and teddy bears on their asses and shuddered.
With a groan, he tried to sit up.
“Dean?” Sam’s voice echoed from across the room.
“Yeah, Sammy?”
Instantly, a matronly woman with grey-shot raven hair was at his side, pushing him firmly back into the bed.
“Awake I see? Good, Good.”
“Who the hell are you?” he groaned through the pain. His voice was rusty with disuse.
“I’m Martha. My husband is the doctor who has been taking care of you.”
He tried to think whether he remembered a Martha. The last thing he did remember was Chloe helping him into the passenger seat of the Impala.
He lifted his hand to rub his face and realized that a set of beads was nestled in his palm. He brought them close for inspection, and realized that it was a blood-caked rosary. The beads were bright green, and stamped with shamrocks. It had to be Chloe’s.
Chloe.
“Chloe?” He asked.
“She went out with Jake and the other blonde to get the creature that put you in this state.”
“The other . . . Jo?” Sam’s voice rang with concern.
Dean shut his eyes and remembered a vaguely humanoid thing with shark-like features. It had outsmarted them and turned their hunt back on them. And now Chloe was out there hunting it without him. “I’ve got to . . .” he tried to sit up again.
“You have to rest,” Martha pushed him back onto the bed. “If you try to get up again, I will tie you to that bed. Your friend is fine, and Jake is an excellent hunter.”
“You don’t understand,” Dean argued. “That thing out there is . . .”
He trailed off as Chloe walked back into the room. She looked like a drown rat - all wrapped in a blanket with wet hair sticking to the side of her face. Still, she had to be the most beautiful thing that Dean had ever seen. “That thing is dead.” She said as she dropped into the chair next to his bed. “And if I never see another kelpie again as long as I live, it’ll be too soon.”
“You okay?” Dean asked her.
“I’m pissed because I lost my Deagle in the lake, I’m ready to sleep for a good six hours, but other than that, all systems are operational.”
“How did you lose your gun in the lake?” Dean frowned.
“Jo!” Sam called out. Chloe and Dean looked up as Jo walked into the room and made a bee-line straight for Sam. Dean watched them as she sat on the bed next to him and placed a long, wet kiss on his lips.
So much for being friends with benefits, Dean thought sardonically. He met Chloe’s bemused gaze and shrugged philosophically. He really should have seen that coming. Casual was never Sam’s style, anyway.
“Well then, I’ll just get Dr. Svenson, shall I?” Martha said brusquely. “It’s really amazing,” she said as she looked from Dean to Chloe.
“What is?” Dean asked.
“The two of you,” Martha shook her head. “It’s not often that we have two people die on us and then recover so quickly.”
“Die?” Dean raised an eyebrow.
“Your heart stopped,” Chloe said quietly. “I suppose mine did, too.”
Dean looked into Chloe’s troubled face. “But Sam saw . . .”
“What did I see?” Sam asked.
"The woman at the lake washing clothes," Chloe said. "We thought she was a ban nigheachain. A fairy washerwoman. They're supposed to wash the grave clothes of someone about to die.
“That’s accurate,” Sam said. His face held the surprise of a dawning realization. “The clothing I saw her washing - were yours.”
“Dude - you didn’t say anything?” Dean said.
“Dude - how was I supposed to know? When we saw her, she was supposed to be a trick of the light, remember?” He looked at them reproachfully. “By the time you guys changed into those clothes, I forgot about seeing her wash them earlier.”
“How is it that Sam saw the ban nigheachain, and we didn’t?” Chloe asked.
Sam and Dean looked at each other, expressions of shared unease on both of their faces.
“Guys?” she asked again when they didn’t say a word. She looked from their uneasy faces to Jo. The young bar owner also looked upset.
“I’m sure it’s nothing, Chloe,” Dean said at last. Jo and Sam both looked at him sharply. Sam’s expression melted to a look of incredulity.
Based on their expressions, Chloe knew that something very big was going on, and that she was the only one who didn’t know what.
“Oh,” she said quietly. For the first time since meeting Sam and Dean, she felt isolated and vulnerable. “Spiffy.”
Author's note: I'm curious as to how many people are reading this fic. So for all you lurkers out there, please post a response. You don't have to say anything. If you feel you must, but don't know what to say, just type the word "scrofula."
Author's note II (the author strikes back): I'm taking a week off from posting the Special Projects Series so that Clarksmuse and I can hammer out some problems that I have with it. So for the next week, I'll be posting random drabbles, and a very nice Chlean smut story instead.
The next story in this series will be called Badlands. I'll post chapter 1 of that next Saturday Night.
By: Pen37
Beta: clarksmuse
Rating: PG-13
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters: Chloe, Sam, Dean, Jo
Pairing: Chloe/Dean, Sam/Jo
Disclaimer: Not Mine, Fun only.
Summary: While hunting Kelpie, things go very wrong for Sam, Dean and Chloe.
There are Author's Notes at the end of the fic.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8
This is part of the Special Projects series. The rest of the fics can be found here.
Written for the Crossovers100 challenge. Prompt #30 Death. The table is here.
Dean thought he heard Chloe’s voice, but it may have just been the radio. He was riding shotgun, just where she’d put him. But when he glanced back to check on Sammy, he wasn’t there. He looked over at the driver’s seat and saw that Dad, not Chloe, was there.
“How ‘you doing, Sport?”
“Dad?” He looked around the Impala and was reminded of hunting together back when Sammy was away at college. “Am I dead?”
“Not yet, Dean,” John said. “But things aren’t looking so good.”
“So is this just a dream?”
“That’s one way of looking at it,” John nodded. “Some people - they get a choice. They can keep fighting, or they can give up.”
“Is that how you look at it?” Dean asked. “Giving up?”
John flexed his hands on the wheel. “It’s nice. Being behind the wheel like this. I didn’t really drive the Impala after I gave it to you. I kind of miss this.”
Dean recognized his own diversion tactics when he saw them.
“Dad - I’m tired. I’ve been tired for a long time.”
“What about looking after Sammy?”
“Sammy can look after himself,” Dean said. “He’s been taking care of me almost as much as I’ve been taking care of him. He’s got Jo now, too.”
“And what about Chloe?”
Dean paused. “What about her?”
“I like her,” John said. “She reminds me of Mary. Both of them are stubborn as a mule.”
“Like someone else I know,” Dean looked pointedly at John.
“So is that how it’s to be then?” John asked. “You saddle Bill Harvelle’s little girl with your responsibility, and then you leave your girl all alone to deal with things that you promised that you’d protect her from.”
“She’s not my girl.”
“She’s your girl, Dean. You’ve just got to convince her.” John looked sideways at Dean. Then, he turned and looked out across his knuckles at the endless expanse of blackness that stretched out beyond the Impala’s headlights. “I carried the guilt with me. Not being there to protect Mary. She was mine.” He shut his eyes. “You protect what’s yours. That’s your job when you love someone. You protect them. Even if it’s not easy, or convenient. Even if they don’t want it. It’s a man’s duty. It’s important.”
“Yes, Sir.” Years of conditioning left Dean nodding, even though he wasn’t quite sure what he was agreeing to.
“Good, son,” John nodded in satisfaction. “The three of you are right in the middle of something. I don’t think any of you know how big it is though. And before it’s over, you’ll need each other. But the only thing holding the three of you together - is you.”
Dean nodded again.
“You’re important, Dean.”
His automatic denial died on his lips as John pinned him with a gaze. “You always were. You were the glue that held us together.”
“I don’t know what to do, Dad,” Dean confessed around the lump in his throat. “There are so many more demons out there. For every one we kill, three more spring up to take it’s place. And they’re all looking for their general.”
“You do what your gut tells you,” John said. “Protect the family. Take care of your girl. Send every single one of those sons of bitches that you can find back to Hell.”
Dean nodded. “My girl, huh?”
“Just don’t let on like you know,” John smiled at him. “Women like to be pursued.”
“Alright,” Dean nodded, as if psyching himself up for some unforeseen pain. “Will I remember any of this?”
“On some level,” John said. “Would you like some advice?”
Dean raised an eyebrow in response.
“Try to find joy in the little moments. The things I did - pretty soon the monsters all bled together. The things I remembered were the little things. Mary’s laugh. The first time I took you shooting. The look on Sammy’s face when I got back from a hunt early enough to see him in that play-thing.”
“Our Town,” Dean said.
“Our Town,” John nodded. “The things you think are little things. They’re what you keep. I wish - I’d paid more attention when they were happening.”
“You were saving lives, dad.” Dean blinked as his eyes prickled. “I understood that . . . Sam understands now.”
“I’m not saying that I would do things differently, Dean. There’s personal, and there’s important. What I did was important. But I just wish I hadn’t been so caught up in what was important, that I failed to pay attention to what was personal.”
Dean nodded. “I’ll try to remember that.”
“Do that.” John fixed him with a steady gaze. “It’s time to go now.”
Dean hesitated. There was something unsaid left between them. “Dad?”
“I know, Sport.”
***
Dean’s eyes jerked open, and he was aware of two things at once. Firstly, his right side felt like it had been dipped in honey and then left out for the fire ants. Secondly, he was in a very pink room. He looked around at the little ponies with rainbows, balloons, and teddy bears on their asses and shuddered.
With a groan, he tried to sit up.
“Dean?” Sam’s voice echoed from across the room.
“Yeah, Sammy?”
Instantly, a matronly woman with grey-shot raven hair was at his side, pushing him firmly back into the bed.
“Awake I see? Good, Good.”
“Who the hell are you?” he groaned through the pain. His voice was rusty with disuse.
“I’m Martha. My husband is the doctor who has been taking care of you.”
He tried to think whether he remembered a Martha. The last thing he did remember was Chloe helping him into the passenger seat of the Impala.
He lifted his hand to rub his face and realized that a set of beads was nestled in his palm. He brought them close for inspection, and realized that it was a blood-caked rosary. The beads were bright green, and stamped with shamrocks. It had to be Chloe’s.
Chloe.
“Chloe?” He asked.
“She went out with Jake and the other blonde to get the creature that put you in this state.”
“The other . . . Jo?” Sam’s voice rang with concern.
Dean shut his eyes and remembered a vaguely humanoid thing with shark-like features. It had outsmarted them and turned their hunt back on them. And now Chloe was out there hunting it without him. “I’ve got to . . .” he tried to sit up again.
“You have to rest,” Martha pushed him back onto the bed. “If you try to get up again, I will tie you to that bed. Your friend is fine, and Jake is an excellent hunter.”
“You don’t understand,” Dean argued. “That thing out there is . . .”
He trailed off as Chloe walked back into the room. She looked like a drown rat - all wrapped in a blanket with wet hair sticking to the side of her face. Still, she had to be the most beautiful thing that Dean had ever seen. “That thing is dead.” She said as she dropped into the chair next to his bed. “And if I never see another kelpie again as long as I live, it’ll be too soon.”
“You okay?” Dean asked her.
“I’m pissed because I lost my Deagle in the lake, I’m ready to sleep for a good six hours, but other than that, all systems are operational.”
“How did you lose your gun in the lake?” Dean frowned.
“Jo!” Sam called out. Chloe and Dean looked up as Jo walked into the room and made a bee-line straight for Sam. Dean watched them as she sat on the bed next to him and placed a long, wet kiss on his lips.
So much for being friends with benefits, Dean thought sardonically. He met Chloe’s bemused gaze and shrugged philosophically. He really should have seen that coming. Casual was never Sam’s style, anyway.
“Well then, I’ll just get Dr. Svenson, shall I?” Martha said brusquely. “It’s really amazing,” she said as she looked from Dean to Chloe.
“What is?” Dean asked.
“The two of you,” Martha shook her head. “It’s not often that we have two people die on us and then recover so quickly.”
“Die?” Dean raised an eyebrow.
“Your heart stopped,” Chloe said quietly. “I suppose mine did, too.”
Dean looked into Chloe’s troubled face. “But Sam saw . . .”
“What did I see?” Sam asked.
"The woman at the lake washing clothes," Chloe said. "We thought she was a ban nigheachain. A fairy washerwoman. They're supposed to wash the grave clothes of someone about to die.
“That’s accurate,” Sam said. His face held the surprise of a dawning realization. “The clothing I saw her washing - were yours.”
“Dude - you didn’t say anything?” Dean said.
“Dude - how was I supposed to know? When we saw her, she was supposed to be a trick of the light, remember?” He looked at them reproachfully. “By the time you guys changed into those clothes, I forgot about seeing her wash them earlier.”
“How is it that Sam saw the ban nigheachain, and we didn’t?” Chloe asked.
Sam and Dean looked at each other, expressions of shared unease on both of their faces.
“Guys?” she asked again when they didn’t say a word. She looked from their uneasy faces to Jo. The young bar owner also looked upset.
“I’m sure it’s nothing, Chloe,” Dean said at last. Jo and Sam both looked at him sharply. Sam’s expression melted to a look of incredulity.
Based on their expressions, Chloe knew that something very big was going on, and that she was the only one who didn’t know what.
“Oh,” she said quietly. For the first time since meeting Sam and Dean, she felt isolated and vulnerable. “Spiffy.”
Author's note: I'm curious as to how many people are reading this fic. So for all you lurkers out there, please post a response. You don't have to say anything. If you feel you must, but don't know what to say, just type the word "scrofula."
Author's note II (the author strikes back): I'm taking a week off from posting the Special Projects Series so that Clarksmuse and I can hammer out some problems that I have with it. So for the next week, I'll be posting random drabbles, and a very nice Chlean smut story instead.
The next story in this series will be called Badlands. I'll post chapter 1 of that next Saturday Night.