Fic: Down the Only Road I've Ever Known (3/7)
Fic: Down the Only Road I've Ever Known (3/7)
Summary: The Impala breaks down in the remote Appalacians, where folks keep to themselves and resent outside intrusion. Sam, Dean and Chloe discover how hard this makes hunting.
Author: pen37
Beta: Clarksmuse
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters: Chloe, Sam, Dean
Pairing:Chloe/Dean
Rating: Pg (It's Supernatural, guys. Draw an X on the map and mark it Terror Incognita: here be monsters).
This is a part of the Special Projects series. You can find the rest of the series here.
Written for the Crossovers100 challenge. Prompt #50 Spade. The table is here.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7
At the diner where the Impala was parked, Sam placed an order for a tuna salad, a double cheeseburger with extra onions, and a mustard sandwich with Chloe's surly waitress from earlier. While he waited on the cheeseburger, he read the local newspaper and tried to not think about what Dean and Chloe were doing back there in his room.
It was a really weird situation, having his brother and his best friend (outside his brother) in a relationship. On one hand, he was happy for Dean. If anybody deserved to have a good relationship, it was his brother.
Chloe was good for Dean in ways that Sam had always hoped for. She was tolerant of his quirks, and intolerant of his bullshit. And - more importantly in Sam's mind - she was sensitive to the bond that he and Dean shared.
More to the point - she was protective of it. As if it were some kind of fragile thing that she could easily destroy with one careless move.
Sam wasn't sure why Chloe seemed to deliberately step back from them. To try and duck their attention. To blend into the woodwork. As if she were consciously choosing to play the outsider. While Sam appreciated it - he couldn't help but wonder what her motives were. People, in his experience, didn't do the altruistic thing.
If it were any other girl, Sam would have thought that it was an act. Something that someone was doing to get into Dean's good graces. Something that they'd stop abruptly once they'd achieved their objective.
But he didn't get that impression from Chloe. She reminded Sam of some kind of wary, wild animal. Always poised to bolt if Dean so much as made a wrong move. Or if she thought that for a second she might come between them.
Sam grimaced at that thought. The three of them had been separated once before. And while he and Dean had been sidetracked by Meg, he had obviously planned on going after Chloe first chance he got.
Dean was hard headed, but he rarely made the same mistake twice. Sam had a feeling that if Chloe ever left again, Dean would be in hot-pursuit.
But none of that made this adjustment period any less weird, though.
He turned his attention to the obituaries with a mental sigh. Skimming death notices was a habit that almost every hunter picked up. If there was something odd going on - that would be where the weird inconsistencies showed up.
As he skimmed over the summaries of life accomplishments, birth dates, death dates, and the names left behind, an incongruity leaped out at him: there were three obituaries in the paper for men in their late-teens. Sam narrowed his eyes. For a town of this size, that was an anomaly. It could be explained by a traffic accident, or other disaster, though. He went back over the paper, and carefully read each one.
All three were unrelated, seemingly ordinary deaths. Heart attacks.
Sam pushed the paper away, and stared thoughtfully out into the middle distance. In his experience, young men didn't just drop dead of a heart attack in large numbers. As he stared out the window, he thought that maybe he and Chloe could find the nearest library and poke around a bit.
Maybe it was nothing. Maybe the deaths were all coincidental. But maybe there were local legends. And maybe there were more young men dropping dead. They'd certainly built cases on less. And it wasn't like they had anything else to do while Dean was working on the Impala.
Just then the belligerent waitress came up. She stared down at his paper - still open to the obituaries, and scowled at him.
“Sad, isn't it?” Sam looked up at her earnestly. “Someone dying this young. I mean - these guys had their whole lives ahead of them.”
She looked away, and nodded.
“It's kind of strange though,” he pressed. “Having a heart attack so young.”
“I guess,” she looked down.
Sam paid for the food, and then adjusted the bag for the long trip back to the hotel.
“You walking?” The waitress looked a little concerned.
Sam shrugged. “Our car is parked out back. Until my brother gets it fixed . . .”
She looked out the large picture window with a look of trepidation. Sam followed her gaze. Outside, beyond the halogen glow of the diner's lights, the setting sun was staining the horizon with pinks and reds and vivid oranges. Above the colorful sunset, the sky spread out in hues shading from blue to the darkest velvety black. Already, he could see the twinkle of diamond-studded stars appear. Sam marveled at God's paintbox in all its glory.
He turned to the waitress with a smile. One that quickly vanished as he detected a look of fear flicker across her features.
“Look,” she said quietly. “My shift ends in a half-hour. Why don't you let me drive you back to your hotel?”
Sam studied her again. She was probably old before her time. Her face was filled with careworn lines, and her hair was shot-through with grey. Although her eyes were not hard and flat the way Sam would have expected. Under his scrutiny, she stood a little taller. Her gaze turned challenging. Sam estimated that she was sincere in her offer, not just trying to pick him up. He decided to explore that thought just a little harder.
Feigning nonchalance, he shifted his gaze back out the window. “It's a nice night,” he shrugged. “I don't mind walking.”
She pinned him with a sorrowful look. “Look, I . . . It's up to you. But you should know . . . those boys were out and about when they died. You seem like a nice boy . . . I'd hate --” She broke off and shook her head.
Sam looked at her in sympathy. “What's your name, ma'am?”
She gave him a tired smile. “Sally.”
“Sally,” Sam took her hand and squeezed it in a gesture of appreciation. “Did something happen to those guys?”
“I . . .” she looked at him as if imploring him to not think her crazy. Then she sighed. “Probably not. But people talk.”
“What do they say?” Sam asked. He gave her an encouraging smile.
She looked down, and Sam knew that he wasn't going to get any more information out of Sally. “Crazy talk. But it never hurts to be cautious.”
Sam nodded in agreement. “I appreciate the ride.”
***
Sam arrived back at the room to find Dean, lying in the middle of the mussed up bed, staring at the ceiling, and looking like a Mick Jagger song.
Sam grinned at his brother's discomfort. “I take it you can't get no --”
“Finish that sentence and I'll kill you, psychic boy.” Dean said flatly.
Sam glanced around the room. Chloe's stuff was there, and he could hear the shower running in the other room.
“You gave her the first shower?”
Dean shrugged. “The way I feel, it doesn't matter if she uses up the hot water, anyway.”
“What's up with you two - wait. On second thought, I really don't want to know.”
“Good, because I don't feel like sharing,” Dean frowned.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Anyway, we've got bigger things going on. I think there's a case here.”
Dean sat up immediately, interest etched on his features. “Really?”
Sam nodded and tossed Dean the obituaries section. “Three dudes all around eighteen died of heart attacks.”
“Really?” Dean's face took on a curious look.
“According to local rumor, they were all three out at night, and they dropped dead without warning.”
Dean looked at the obituaries, and gave the facial equivalent of a shrug. “Okay, we’ll look into it.”
“No argument?” Sam raised his eyebrows.
Dean’s gaze turned toward the bathroom, and his expression clouded. “It’s not like I’ve got better things to do.”
“Whatever.” Sam threw himself onto the left hand side of the bed. “Dude - totally stay on your side. I’d like to miss the whole Planes Trains and Automobiles experience.”
“Not a problem, Samantha.” Dean smirked at him.
***
Chloe deliberately took her time in the bathroom. She hadn’t expected things to get as out of hand with Dean as they had. But it’d been a really long time since she’d let herself just enjoy the moment like that.
When she was completely honest with herself, her experiences with men were somewhat limited. And while Jimmy got bonus points for creativity, his technique left something to be desired. Dean, on the other hand, not only knew how to push her buttons, he seemed to have studied up on the owner's manual and could locate switches that she didn't know she even had.
She leaned her head against the tile and shook it ruefully. She felt like she needed the cooling off period as much as she thought he did.
When she finally emerged from the bathroom, she was relieved to find that Dean had gone to sleep. Or at least, he was pretending to be. Sam was sitting at the little table in the corner, clicking away on his computer.
“Hey, Sam,” she finished toweling off her newly shortened hair, and then threw the used towel over the bathroom door to dry.
Sam glanced up and Chloe and nodded before turning back to the computer.
“Heavy research?” she guessed.
“New case.”
“Really? Where?”
“Right here.”
Chloe raised an eyebrow. Mentally, she revised the events of the day, searching for things that had set off her weirdar. “This have anything to do with the church bells, or the rude waitress?”
“Maybe a little of both,” Sam said. Quickly he filled her in on the conversation he had earlier with Sally, the waitress. “I was just trying to see what I could find on the deaths in the local police files, but I’m getting nowhere.”
“If they ruled them heart attacks, then would there be a police investigation?”
“For someone so young to suddenly drop dead - the investigators wouldn't rule out foul play. For three someones - they'd almost expect it.”
“So we need to check out what the local police have to say. And keep an ear to the ground for rumors,” Chloe nodded. “Which means we’ve got to do a little bit of legwork.”
“We could start back at that diner over breakfast tomorrow,” Sam said. “Folks in these little communities tend to clam up around outsiders. But you can usually overhear a lot when you face the wall, and just sit quietly.”
Chloe nodded in agreement. She sat down across from him at the table, and studied his face as he typed at the computer. Years of living in Smallville had sharpened her weirdar considerably. Generally, she was very good at spotting metahumans - even if they were actively hiding their abilities. But Sam had slipped right under the radar.
He glanced up over the top of his laptop and gave her a questioning stare. “What?”
She shook her head. “I just can’t figure out how I didn’t see it. If I didn’t know - I’d miss it even now.”
“What?” Sam raised an eyebrow.
“How long have you been meta, Sam?”
“Since I was 23.” He ducked his head sheepishly.
“Please,” Chloe rolled her eyes. “Let’s not get into an I’m-a-bigger-freak-than-you contest. Because: slice me open, and I glow green.”
“You have a point,” Sam conceded. “Okay. What do want to know about it?”
“For starters, what do you do?”
“I don’t know.”
She tilted her head, and gave him a disbelieving look.
“Look, it’s not like I wanted to explore this stuff,” Sam said. “When it started happening - it was usually stuff related to the demon that killed our parents and Jess. So . . . Ignorance is bliss, you know?”
“Not really,” Chloe shrugged. “Most of my life - I’ve been chasing the truth. Most of the things that I thought were true -- they weren’t. Not really. My mom didn't abandon me. My best friend was meta. I spent most of my life mutated without knowing it. And when I did find out - I spent another couple of years waiting on the other shoe to drop, scared that I was either going to go crazy, or catatonic.
“Experience has taught me that it’s better to light a candle than curse the darkness.”
“I get that it was different with you,” Sam nodded in acknowledgment of what she was saying. “But when Missouri figured out how to turn my powers inward and trap the demon - I was kind of relieved. The powers were useful, and it was like they went away. I could just be Sam again. Not Sam the special kid.”
Chloe nodded in understanding. “Right there with you, Sam. As useful as the healing thing is - It’s hard to break years of conditioning. I mean - I’m the one who coined the phrase meteor freak. And talk about that one coming back to bite you in the ass.”
Sam chuckled at that. “Okay, my powers.” He looked into the distance thoughtfully. “I used to have prophetic dreams - but I think they were being sent by the Yellow-eyed Demon, so I’m pretty sure that it’s not actually a part of my power.”
“Okay, no prophetic dreams - check that off the list.” Chloe rested her chin in her hand and looked at Sam seriously. “What else?”
“When I’m stressed out - I can move things with my mind.”
“Just when you’re stressed?”
“Every time I’ve done it - Dean’s life has been in danger.”
Chloe glanced over to the bed where Dean slept peacefully. “That’s - actually not that surprising.” She shrugged. “Okay, telekinesis, we can work on that. Anything else?”
“I get impressions of things. Feelings. Sometimes I can sense things. Ghosts and spirits.”
“So you’re a psychic.”
Sam nodded.
“Well, we’re just going to have to work on developing that.”
“We?” Sam tilted his head in an inquiring pose.
“Yes, we.” Chloe grinned at him and waggled her eyebrows. “I’ve got a long history of helping people with their powers.”
“Oh really?”
“Yep. And other than nearly being squished by a flying barn door, my success rate is second to none. Let’s start with the telekinesis. That’ll be the easy one. The mental stuff - I’m going to have to study up on. Maybe we can find some kind of eastern philosophy that can help us work up a theory on how to proceed.”
“Okay.” A grin tugged at the corners of Sam’s mouth. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this. But you can be my coach.”
“Let's start small,” Chloe leaned back, and pulled a canister of salt out of a spare duffel. She waved at Sam to move his laptop. Sam put the computer into sleep mode, and put it back in its own satchel. Then Chloe sat the canister on its side on Sam's end of the table.
“Okay,” she said. “Try to remember what you did when you moved thing before, and roll that can over to me.”
“Alright,” Sam exhaled and stared intently at the can. It continued to sit there, unmoving. After some minutes, Sam leaned back in his chair, and let out a frustrated sigh. “This? Is not working.”
“And it's your first real try,” Chloe said. “Babies aren't born walking. There's a learning curve.”
“Right,” Sam leaned forward and stared intently at the salt canister again. “Why couldn't I have gotten something good - like what you've got?”
“Freaky meteor rock healing?” Chloe’s lip twisted in a sardonic smile. “Trust me, the ‘pins and needles’ feeling is so not worth it.”
“You have to admit - it is kind of useful,” Sam said.
Chloe looked at him and shrugged. “Maybe just a little bit.”
“Come on,” Sam said. “You get a higher pain threshold, accelerated healing --”
“Inability to get a caffeine rush, or get drunk. And let's not forget the light show,” She said bitterly.
“Still, if you're going to be a hunter --”
“It means I get to be the one to patch up everyone else. And the one to feel guilty about being whole and healthy.”
She gave Sam a sad look. “It eats at you sometimes. When you're the last man standing.”
“Chloe,” Sam leaned forward to fix her with an earnest look. “You're not going to get me to agree with you on this. The folks who care about you - me, Dean, your dad and cousins - we're glad that you don't get hurt. Hell, if I could pass that kind of healing ability on to Dean, I wouldn't think twice about it.”
“Would you?” The corners of Chloe's mouth turned up in a sad kind of smile.
“Wouldn't you?”
Chloe's gaze turned to where Dean was sleeping. She stared at him thoughtfully, remembering the fresh scars in his side where the Kelpie had wounded him. If she could take that away from him - she knew in her heart that she wouldn't hesitate.
“In a heartbeat,” she nodded.
“Alright then.” Sam reached across the table and squeezed her arm. “No more of this I'm-a-freak self loathing. You got it?”
She nodded. “On one condition.”
“What's that?” Sam's expression was curious.
Chloe pushed the salt canister toward him. “Practice, Grasshopper.” She grinned at him with a bright smile.
Sam rolled his eyes and . A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“Thank you, Master Po,” he said, and then stuck his tongue out at her.
Summary: The Impala breaks down in the remote Appalacians, where folks keep to themselves and resent outside intrusion. Sam, Dean and Chloe discover how hard this makes hunting.
Author: pen37
Beta: Clarksmuse
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters: Chloe, Sam, Dean
Pairing:Chloe/Dean
Rating: Pg (It's Supernatural, guys. Draw an X on the map and mark it Terror Incognita: here be monsters).
This is a part of the Special Projects series. You can find the rest of the series here.
Written for the Crossovers100 challenge. Prompt #50 Spade. The table is here.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7
At the diner where the Impala was parked, Sam placed an order for a tuna salad, a double cheeseburger with extra onions, and a mustard sandwich with Chloe's surly waitress from earlier. While he waited on the cheeseburger, he read the local newspaper and tried to not think about what Dean and Chloe were doing back there in his room.
It was a really weird situation, having his brother and his best friend (outside his brother) in a relationship. On one hand, he was happy for Dean. If anybody deserved to have a good relationship, it was his brother.
Chloe was good for Dean in ways that Sam had always hoped for. She was tolerant of his quirks, and intolerant of his bullshit. And - more importantly in Sam's mind - she was sensitive to the bond that he and Dean shared.
More to the point - she was protective of it. As if it were some kind of fragile thing that she could easily destroy with one careless move.
Sam wasn't sure why Chloe seemed to deliberately step back from them. To try and duck their attention. To blend into the woodwork. As if she were consciously choosing to play the outsider. While Sam appreciated it - he couldn't help but wonder what her motives were. People, in his experience, didn't do the altruistic thing.
If it were any other girl, Sam would have thought that it was an act. Something that someone was doing to get into Dean's good graces. Something that they'd stop abruptly once they'd achieved their objective.
But he didn't get that impression from Chloe. She reminded Sam of some kind of wary, wild animal. Always poised to bolt if Dean so much as made a wrong move. Or if she thought that for a second she might come between them.
Sam grimaced at that thought. The three of them had been separated once before. And while he and Dean had been sidetracked by Meg, he had obviously planned on going after Chloe first chance he got.
Dean was hard headed, but he rarely made the same mistake twice. Sam had a feeling that if Chloe ever left again, Dean would be in hot-pursuit.
But none of that made this adjustment period any less weird, though.
He turned his attention to the obituaries with a mental sigh. Skimming death notices was a habit that almost every hunter picked up. If there was something odd going on - that would be where the weird inconsistencies showed up.
As he skimmed over the summaries of life accomplishments, birth dates, death dates, and the names left behind, an incongruity leaped out at him: there were three obituaries in the paper for men in their late-teens. Sam narrowed his eyes. For a town of this size, that was an anomaly. It could be explained by a traffic accident, or other disaster, though. He went back over the paper, and carefully read each one.
All three were unrelated, seemingly ordinary deaths. Heart attacks.
Sam pushed the paper away, and stared thoughtfully out into the middle distance. In his experience, young men didn't just drop dead of a heart attack in large numbers. As he stared out the window, he thought that maybe he and Chloe could find the nearest library and poke around a bit.
Maybe it was nothing. Maybe the deaths were all coincidental. But maybe there were local legends. And maybe there were more young men dropping dead. They'd certainly built cases on less. And it wasn't like they had anything else to do while Dean was working on the Impala.
Just then the belligerent waitress came up. She stared down at his paper - still open to the obituaries, and scowled at him.
“Sad, isn't it?” Sam looked up at her earnestly. “Someone dying this young. I mean - these guys had their whole lives ahead of them.”
She looked away, and nodded.
“It's kind of strange though,” he pressed. “Having a heart attack so young.”
“I guess,” she looked down.
Sam paid for the food, and then adjusted the bag for the long trip back to the hotel.
“You walking?” The waitress looked a little concerned.
Sam shrugged. “Our car is parked out back. Until my brother gets it fixed . . .”
She looked out the large picture window with a look of trepidation. Sam followed her gaze. Outside, beyond the halogen glow of the diner's lights, the setting sun was staining the horizon with pinks and reds and vivid oranges. Above the colorful sunset, the sky spread out in hues shading from blue to the darkest velvety black. Already, he could see the twinkle of diamond-studded stars appear. Sam marveled at God's paintbox in all its glory.
He turned to the waitress with a smile. One that quickly vanished as he detected a look of fear flicker across her features.
“Look,” she said quietly. “My shift ends in a half-hour. Why don't you let me drive you back to your hotel?”
Sam studied her again. She was probably old before her time. Her face was filled with careworn lines, and her hair was shot-through with grey. Although her eyes were not hard and flat the way Sam would have expected. Under his scrutiny, she stood a little taller. Her gaze turned challenging. Sam estimated that she was sincere in her offer, not just trying to pick him up. He decided to explore that thought just a little harder.
Feigning nonchalance, he shifted his gaze back out the window. “It's a nice night,” he shrugged. “I don't mind walking.”
She pinned him with a sorrowful look. “Look, I . . . It's up to you. But you should know . . . those boys were out and about when they died. You seem like a nice boy . . . I'd hate --” She broke off and shook her head.
Sam looked at her in sympathy. “What's your name, ma'am?”
She gave him a tired smile. “Sally.”
“Sally,” Sam took her hand and squeezed it in a gesture of appreciation. “Did something happen to those guys?”
“I . . .” she looked at him as if imploring him to not think her crazy. Then she sighed. “Probably not. But people talk.”
“What do they say?” Sam asked. He gave her an encouraging smile.
She looked down, and Sam knew that he wasn't going to get any more information out of Sally. “Crazy talk. But it never hurts to be cautious.”
Sam nodded in agreement. “I appreciate the ride.”
***
Sam arrived back at the room to find Dean, lying in the middle of the mussed up bed, staring at the ceiling, and looking like a Mick Jagger song.
Sam grinned at his brother's discomfort. “I take it you can't get no --”
“Finish that sentence and I'll kill you, psychic boy.” Dean said flatly.
Sam glanced around the room. Chloe's stuff was there, and he could hear the shower running in the other room.
“You gave her the first shower?”
Dean shrugged. “The way I feel, it doesn't matter if she uses up the hot water, anyway.”
“What's up with you two - wait. On second thought, I really don't want to know.”
“Good, because I don't feel like sharing,” Dean frowned.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Anyway, we've got bigger things going on. I think there's a case here.”
Dean sat up immediately, interest etched on his features. “Really?”
Sam nodded and tossed Dean the obituaries section. “Three dudes all around eighteen died of heart attacks.”
“Really?” Dean's face took on a curious look.
“According to local rumor, they were all three out at night, and they dropped dead without warning.”
Dean looked at the obituaries, and gave the facial equivalent of a shrug. “Okay, we’ll look into it.”
“No argument?” Sam raised his eyebrows.
Dean’s gaze turned toward the bathroom, and his expression clouded. “It’s not like I’ve got better things to do.”
“Whatever.” Sam threw himself onto the left hand side of the bed. “Dude - totally stay on your side. I’d like to miss the whole Planes Trains and Automobiles experience.”
“Not a problem, Samantha.” Dean smirked at him.
***
Chloe deliberately took her time in the bathroom. She hadn’t expected things to get as out of hand with Dean as they had. But it’d been a really long time since she’d let herself just enjoy the moment like that.
When she was completely honest with herself, her experiences with men were somewhat limited. And while Jimmy got bonus points for creativity, his technique left something to be desired. Dean, on the other hand, not only knew how to push her buttons, he seemed to have studied up on the owner's manual and could locate switches that she didn't know she even had.
She leaned her head against the tile and shook it ruefully. She felt like she needed the cooling off period as much as she thought he did.
When she finally emerged from the bathroom, she was relieved to find that Dean had gone to sleep. Or at least, he was pretending to be. Sam was sitting at the little table in the corner, clicking away on his computer.
“Hey, Sam,” she finished toweling off her newly shortened hair, and then threw the used towel over the bathroom door to dry.
Sam glanced up and Chloe and nodded before turning back to the computer.
“Heavy research?” she guessed.
“New case.”
“Really? Where?”
“Right here.”
Chloe raised an eyebrow. Mentally, she revised the events of the day, searching for things that had set off her weirdar. “This have anything to do with the church bells, or the rude waitress?”
“Maybe a little of both,” Sam said. Quickly he filled her in on the conversation he had earlier with Sally, the waitress. “I was just trying to see what I could find on the deaths in the local police files, but I’m getting nowhere.”
“If they ruled them heart attacks, then would there be a police investigation?”
“For someone so young to suddenly drop dead - the investigators wouldn't rule out foul play. For three someones - they'd almost expect it.”
“So we need to check out what the local police have to say. And keep an ear to the ground for rumors,” Chloe nodded. “Which means we’ve got to do a little bit of legwork.”
“We could start back at that diner over breakfast tomorrow,” Sam said. “Folks in these little communities tend to clam up around outsiders. But you can usually overhear a lot when you face the wall, and just sit quietly.”
Chloe nodded in agreement. She sat down across from him at the table, and studied his face as he typed at the computer. Years of living in Smallville had sharpened her weirdar considerably. Generally, she was very good at spotting metahumans - even if they were actively hiding their abilities. But Sam had slipped right under the radar.
He glanced up over the top of his laptop and gave her a questioning stare. “What?”
She shook her head. “I just can’t figure out how I didn’t see it. If I didn’t know - I’d miss it even now.”
“What?” Sam raised an eyebrow.
“How long have you been meta, Sam?”
“Since I was 23.” He ducked his head sheepishly.
“Please,” Chloe rolled her eyes. “Let’s not get into an I’m-a-bigger-freak-than-you contest. Because: slice me open, and I glow green.”
“You have a point,” Sam conceded. “Okay. What do want to know about it?”
“For starters, what do you do?”
“I don’t know.”
She tilted her head, and gave him a disbelieving look.
“Look, it’s not like I wanted to explore this stuff,” Sam said. “When it started happening - it was usually stuff related to the demon that killed our parents and Jess. So . . . Ignorance is bliss, you know?”
“Not really,” Chloe shrugged. “Most of my life - I’ve been chasing the truth. Most of the things that I thought were true -- they weren’t. Not really. My mom didn't abandon me. My best friend was meta. I spent most of my life mutated without knowing it. And when I did find out - I spent another couple of years waiting on the other shoe to drop, scared that I was either going to go crazy, or catatonic.
“Experience has taught me that it’s better to light a candle than curse the darkness.”
“I get that it was different with you,” Sam nodded in acknowledgment of what she was saying. “But when Missouri figured out how to turn my powers inward and trap the demon - I was kind of relieved. The powers were useful, and it was like they went away. I could just be Sam again. Not Sam the special kid.”
Chloe nodded in understanding. “Right there with you, Sam. As useful as the healing thing is - It’s hard to break years of conditioning. I mean - I’m the one who coined the phrase meteor freak. And talk about that one coming back to bite you in the ass.”
Sam chuckled at that. “Okay, my powers.” He looked into the distance thoughtfully. “I used to have prophetic dreams - but I think they were being sent by the Yellow-eyed Demon, so I’m pretty sure that it’s not actually a part of my power.”
“Okay, no prophetic dreams - check that off the list.” Chloe rested her chin in her hand and looked at Sam seriously. “What else?”
“When I’m stressed out - I can move things with my mind.”
“Just when you’re stressed?”
“Every time I’ve done it - Dean’s life has been in danger.”
Chloe glanced over to the bed where Dean slept peacefully. “That’s - actually not that surprising.” She shrugged. “Okay, telekinesis, we can work on that. Anything else?”
“I get impressions of things. Feelings. Sometimes I can sense things. Ghosts and spirits.”
“So you’re a psychic.”
Sam nodded.
“Well, we’re just going to have to work on developing that.”
“We?” Sam tilted his head in an inquiring pose.
“Yes, we.” Chloe grinned at him and waggled her eyebrows. “I’ve got a long history of helping people with their powers.”
“Oh really?”
“Yep. And other than nearly being squished by a flying barn door, my success rate is second to none. Let’s start with the telekinesis. That’ll be the easy one. The mental stuff - I’m going to have to study up on. Maybe we can find some kind of eastern philosophy that can help us work up a theory on how to proceed.”
“Okay.” A grin tugged at the corners of Sam’s mouth. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this. But you can be my coach.”
“Let's start small,” Chloe leaned back, and pulled a canister of salt out of a spare duffel. She waved at Sam to move his laptop. Sam put the computer into sleep mode, and put it back in its own satchel. Then Chloe sat the canister on its side on Sam's end of the table.
“Okay,” she said. “Try to remember what you did when you moved thing before, and roll that can over to me.”
“Alright,” Sam exhaled and stared intently at the can. It continued to sit there, unmoving. After some minutes, Sam leaned back in his chair, and let out a frustrated sigh. “This? Is not working.”
“And it's your first real try,” Chloe said. “Babies aren't born walking. There's a learning curve.”
“Right,” Sam leaned forward and stared intently at the salt canister again. “Why couldn't I have gotten something good - like what you've got?”
“Freaky meteor rock healing?” Chloe’s lip twisted in a sardonic smile. “Trust me, the ‘pins and needles’ feeling is so not worth it.”
“You have to admit - it is kind of useful,” Sam said.
Chloe looked at him and shrugged. “Maybe just a little bit.”
“Come on,” Sam said. “You get a higher pain threshold, accelerated healing --”
“Inability to get a caffeine rush, or get drunk. And let's not forget the light show,” She said bitterly.
“Still, if you're going to be a hunter --”
“It means I get to be the one to patch up everyone else. And the one to feel guilty about being whole and healthy.”
She gave Sam a sad look. “It eats at you sometimes. When you're the last man standing.”
“Chloe,” Sam leaned forward to fix her with an earnest look. “You're not going to get me to agree with you on this. The folks who care about you - me, Dean, your dad and cousins - we're glad that you don't get hurt. Hell, if I could pass that kind of healing ability on to Dean, I wouldn't think twice about it.”
“Would you?” The corners of Chloe's mouth turned up in a sad kind of smile.
“Wouldn't you?”
Chloe's gaze turned to where Dean was sleeping. She stared at him thoughtfully, remembering the fresh scars in his side where the Kelpie had wounded him. If she could take that away from him - she knew in her heart that she wouldn't hesitate.
“In a heartbeat,” she nodded.
“Alright then.” Sam reached across the table and squeezed her arm. “No more of this I'm-a-freak self loathing. You got it?”
She nodded. “On one condition.”
“What's that?” Sam's expression was curious.
Chloe pushed the salt canister toward him. “Practice, Grasshopper.” She grinned at him with a bright smile.
Sam rolled his eyes and . A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“Thank you, Master Po,” he said, and then stuck his tongue out at her.