Fic: Badlands (2/8)
Fic: Badlands (2/8)
By: Pen37
Beta:
clarksmuse
Banner:
cheryljluv
Rating: PG-13
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters: Chloe, Sam, Dean, Bobby
Pairing: Chloe/Dean,
Disclaimer: Not Mine, Fun only.
Summary: The group heads to South Dakota to recover. But recovery isn't as relaxing as it should be with Evil Scientists, ghostly Native Americans, and Chloe and Dean fighting the whole way.
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 #82 Cave. The table is here.
A/N: Buckle up guys, things are going to get rough from here.
As predicted, the Impala pulled into the salvage yard in two and a half days with Dean behind the wheel, looking worn-out and pissy as a little girl. No sooner was the car in park, than the car’s three occupants bailed like rats deserting a sinking ship. Dean was clutching his side, and trying not to show it. Sam’s head was partially wrapped, and the blonde looked mad as a bear with a bee in it’s ear.
Bobby could hear her arguing with Dean from across the yard. She had the kind of voice that would carry.
“If you would just let me . . .”
Dean’s lower voice didn’t reach quite as far, so when he cut her off, Bobby couldn’t make out his end of the conversation.
“Fine! Do it yourself Mr. Macho.” The blonde jerked the keys right out of Dean’s hands and stomped back to the Impala’s trunk.
Meantime, Sam’s long strides carried him far ahead of the argument. “Hi Bobby.” He looked relieved to be out of the car and away from Dean and the she-hornet.
“Sam,” Bobby nodded toward the girl. “That Chloe?”
“Yeah,” Sam glanced back. “She and Dean have been at it the whole trip.”
Bobby nodded.
“Just whatever you do, don’t mention Jack.”
The older hunter raised an eyebrow.
“Long story short - Dean’s jealous.”
The other eyebrow climbed up there as well. “Dean gets jealous?”
Just then Dean made it up the steps. He looked drawn and tired. “Bobby,” he nodded as he paused to shake his hand.
“Dean,” Bobby nodded. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks.”
“Pleasantries aside, why don’t both you boys go find a bed? I’ll go introduce myself to your friend, and see if she needs help settling things.”
Dean looked back at the Impala, where Chloe was pulling bags out of the trunk, and determinedly not looking his direction. The shadow of regret darkened his features. But the pull of rest was stronger. With a tired sigh, he walked into the house.
Sam gave Bobby a look that expressed how relieved he was to be out of the car, and followed Dean inside. The door closed with a snick.
Bobby shook his head again, and turned toward the Impala. Time to meet the girl who had Dean so worked up. He rounded the corner, and saw her pull Dean’s bags out of the trunk none-too gently, and toss them on the ground.
“You Chloe?”
She turned, quirked an eyebrow in question, and then favored him with a sunny smile. “You must be Bobby. Christo, it’s good to meet you.”
Bobby found himself smiling at her. In one very casual sentence, she’d shown that she wasn’t possessed, determined that he wasn’t either, and greeted him in her own unique, no-nonsense way. He took her hand in a firm handshake. “I bet you’d like a drink.”
“I’m not a big drinker. So if you’re going to get me a something with holy water in it, I like tea.”
“Fair enough.” Bobby shrugged. He was pretty sure she was on the level. But it always paid to be certain.
***
As Dean pulled the oil pan off the Impala, he resisted the temptation to look back toward the house. Chloe was sitting on Bobby’s porch swing with a glass of iced tea, a book that had to be the size of her head, three different notebooks and her computer.
But what really had Dean’s attention was the tank top and shorts. Because if he was looking right when she leaned over to take notes, he could see the chlovage. Problem was, that if she looked up, she would see him checking her out, which meant that she would put on more clothes, and that would be the end of that.
And right now, he was getting a little thrill at getting away with something. Because she wasn’t letting him get away with much at all. Not with his side bothering him, his mood swinging like a pendulum and her in a snit over him working on the car instead of laying on the couch like she wanted.
He’d tried that for all of a day. Then once all the guns were cleaned, the rock-salt packed into the shell casings and the iron rounds properly blessed (he was ordained online by the First Church of Mammals. So technically, it counted) there wasn’t a lot to do. So he’d gotten up despite her protests, and started working on his baby.
Even as he slid out from under the car, and sat the oil pan aside, his eyes drifted over to her. A sloppy grin worked its way across his face. He still remembered what she’d said to him back in the Impala when they were all in danger. Back before both of them technically died.
“So I’m your girl now?”
“Closest I’ve ever had.”
“You’re supposed to ask someone if they want to be your girl.”
“I would, if I thought you’d say yes.”
“Ask me then.”
“Chloe --”
“Ask me when you’re better.”
She was his girl. His sloppy smile turned in to a full-on grin. At this point asking her was just a formality. An important formality considering that she wouldn’t let him even ask her until he was well. But - he had her. She was his.
He glanced up, and saw that her gaze was zeroed in on Bobby’s driveway. He tracked her line of site, and saw a familiar, blonde pretty boy on a black Ducati motorcycle. Oliver Queen.
His hands tightened around the biggest, heaviest wrench he could find. The last time he saw Oliver Queen was when the Chloe vanished for an entire night. She’d turned up the next morning, on the back of Queen’s motorcycle and introduced him as an old friend.
So what was he doing here?
Dean decided that it was a valid question. And one he had the right to ask. He wielded the wrench like a club as he walked with heavy, firm steps toward the pretty boy. Somehow, Chloe was there just ahead of him, standing between him and Ollie. Right in the way - just in case he wanted to take a swing.
He put his free hand on Chloe’s shoulder possessively, and glared at Queen. “Are you following us, or something?”
Chloe responded by elbowing him on his non-injured side.
Queen looked at Dean with the kind of faint amusement that set his teeth on edge before turning his attention to Chloe.
“Wish I could say it was a social call, Sidekick. But I actually needed you to take a look at this and tell me if you could make sense of it.” He pulled a couple of folders from his saddlebags.
Dean wanted to smack him for something. But other than that annoyingly superior look on his face and just the fact that he was here, Queen hadn’t done anything. Even now, his eyes were firmly on the folders in Chloe’s hands, and not on her chest, which is where Dean’s eyes would be in the same place.
He looked over Chloe’s shoulder at the folders. But all they contained were printouts of names, addresses and what looked like airline ticket information. She flipped through the pages quickly. Then, about halfway through the stack, she slowed. She thumbed back three pages, and then looked from Queen to the stack and back.
“Has Victor seen these?”
“He’s currently running down a lead with AC in Australia.”
“What, off the great barrier reef?”
“Something like that.”
“So you saw this, and thought of me?”
“Because of the location, I thought of you.”
Chloe grinned. “I am so in.”
“In what?” Dean said angrily. “What’s going on?”
In the face of Dean’s scowl, Queen looked at Chloe with one of those get rid of the civilian looks. Dean recognized that look. He’d used it with Sam often enough. It pissed him off that this pretty boy rich dude was using it on him.
“Dean, I need to go for a couple of days,” Chloe said gently.
“What?”
“This paperwork,” she pointed to it. “It’s a cross reference of plane tickets issued to military scientists and Luthorcorp employees. “We may be able to use it to pinpoint Lex’s gene splicing mill. If I can call some kind of spotlight on that, maybe we can get it shut down.”
“Okay,” he said. “Okay. But I’ll come with you.”
She gave him an incredulous look. “With thirty seven stitches? You’re supposed to be resting. Besides, I can take care of this, and then be back in plenty of time for you to re-cooperate.”
“Chloe--” He broke off, and scowled at Queen.
Chloe looked from Dean’s scowl to the billionaire and back. “You’re jealous.” She said flatly.
“Damn right I’m jealous,” Dean said. “Some random dude shows up and you’re just going to leave with him? How am I supposed to feel about that?”
Chloe shut her eyes, and shook her head. “It’s not like that.”
“Really? Then what's it like?”
“I can't tell you.”
“More secrets. Great.”
She crossed her arms, and looked away.
“Look,” he sighed. “Give it a week. I promise. I’ll really rest the way you want me to. Once I’m one hundred percent, I’ll go with you.”
“And in the meantime, Luthorcorp could be experimenting on humans.”
“Chloe.”
“I was afraid of this,” she looked down. Something in her voice scared Dean. When she looked up again, there was a resigned expression that he didn’t like at all. She looked over her shoulder at Queen. “Ollie, can you give us a minute?”
The billionaire's face was serious. He nodded, and rolled his bike back down Bobby’s driveway.
“I want to thank you for everything you’ve taught me, Dean.” Her words were formal and clipped. Dean felt his heart sink. “It’s been very instructional.”
“Just like that?” He asked softly. “You’re going?”
“I never planned on things getting personal with you guys,” she shook her head. “I guess we’re to the point where we can’t keep up the partnership without honesty.”
“You’re more than a freelance consultant--” Dean said shrewdly.
She smiled faintly at him. “I never said that.” She glanced back to the house, blinking furiously. “Thank Bobby for letting me use his library. I’ll arrange to get my things in a few weeks.”
“Aren’t you worried we’d find your secrets on your laptop?” He asked bitterly.
She shrugged. “The really important secrets aren’t on a laptop,” she said. “Goodbye, Dean.”
He watched her walk away, wishing he knew the right words to stop her. Trying to figure out how things went so wrong so suddenly. But she’d obviously been thinking about this longer than she’d let on.
More than anything, he wanted to make her understand what she meant to him. But judging by the set of her posture, it wouldn’t make a difference. She had secrets that she couldn’t share. And she was willing to throw away what the two of them were building to protect that.
He shut his own eyes, and turned away from her. “Freaking bitch.” He muttered without really meaning it. He heard the sound of a bike revving, and then vanishing in the distance. He didn’t turn around. He didn’t have to watch to know she was gone.
A/N: Yes, I know Dean was harsh. Before you crucify the poor boy, keep in mind that he knew Chloe couldn't hear him, and he didn't mean it. He's just hurting, and hurt people lash out. Whew, I cried writing this. It's going to be okay, though. I won't break them permanantly.