Fic: Ex Machina (9/9)
Fic: Ex Machina (9/9)
Series: Special Projects
Summary: After their experience with the Demon Meg, Chloe is broken. Dean is shattered. Somehow, they've got to find a way back, while at the same time figuring out how to stop a Demon-made Artificial Intelegence.
Author: pen37
Beta: Clarksmuse
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural/DCU
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.
Written for the Crossovers100 challenge. Prompt #67 Snow. The table is here.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9
The contingency of regular JLA members took off almost immediately. Apparently, hero-ing was one crisis after another. Which just sounded like a super-powered version of hunting to Sam.
To his surprise, Isaac loaded up in the van to go with them.
“I thought you wanted to be a hunter?”
“I did. I do.” He ducked his head, and blushed in embarrassment. “But I was thinking. This demon thing was on the Internet, right? I mean, it was created by demons. So they're changing with the times. Maybe . . . some of us need to change, too?” The kid looked out at the van and shrugged.
“Anyway, I'm already pretty good with computers. And Oracle said that she'd teach me stuff. Maybe this was where I was meant to be hunting.”
“Your choice, kiddo,” Sam touched his shoulder
“You think Ellen'll be mad?” Isaac asked.
“Probably not.” Sam shook his head. “I doubt you'll get shot at as much as Dean and I do. Bottom line though, Isaac, it's your choice. If you're man enough to bury both parents, you're man enough to decide if this is what you want to do with your life. I don't care what the government says.”
Isaac looked up at him and grinned. “Sam?”
“What?”
“Thanks. You know, for everything.”
Sam nodded. “Watch your back, ki . . . Isaac. You're going to be just fine.”
Isaac nodded, and then ran out to the van.
* * *
Dean, Chloe and Sam decided to head toward Metropolis three days later.
Dean watched as Chloe helped Sam take their things out to the Impala. To look at her, you would never be able to tell that she was dealing with the claustrophobia. She breezed in and out of the house like it was nothing.
Which impressed the hell out of him. Because it would take a trained eye to see that she was as tense as a coiled spring. And even then, you had to really watch to be able to tell that her hands would tremble on occasion.
It was just what she said it was. Feeling the fear, and not minding the fear. She hadn't really conquered it. Not yet. But he had no doubt she would. Because she was the strongest woman he knew. And in the meantime, she was doing a great job of not letting the fear rule her.
He wished he was that strong.
Chloe had called him on the insomnia. And if she hadn't been preoccupied with her own demons, she might have guessed the reasons why. His own demons still tormented him every time he closed his eyes.
And while he was proud of the way she'd handled her pain, he still hadn't been able to let go of the way he'd been the instrument of torture.
He'd come to terms with the fact that it wasn't his fault, and let go of the guilt. But that didn't mean that he had been able to stop seeing things. The way she'd suffered . . . and everything that Meg had done while in control of him.
He just didn't know how to deal with it. He'd thought he could handle it if he'd been possessed, but it was just . . . nothing happened the way he ever imagined it would.
For a while there, he was focused on Chloe. On helping her to get better. While he was focused on that, he could ignore his own pain. But now he just felt lost.
He was so lost in thought, that he didn't notice when Chloe slipped up beside him and casually tucked herself under his arm.
“I'd ask you how much you'd give me for your thoughts, but you'd probably undervalue them.”
“Is that right?” Dean asked.
“Yep.” She steered him out the door, and over to Bobby's porch swing. Then she pulled him down to sit next to her. She grinned at him impishly, and then reached into her jacket and pulled a leather bound journal from inside.
“You know I already have one of these,” he said to her.
“Three, if you count your dad's and Sam's. But this isn't for hunting.”
“It's not?” He gave her an inquisitive stare.
“I've been reading some of your dad's oldest journal entries. And-oddly enough, he started out journaling his thoughts. It was a coping mechanism, to deal with your mother's death.”
“Sam and I skip that stuff,” Dean shifted uncomfortably. “It's kind of private.”
“And one of my big failings is that I'm nosy.” She smiled sadly at him. “I'm sorry. I didn't think it was prying, since you guys pretty much gave me free reign over the rest of the book.”
“No,” Dean shook his head. “We never really said not to. So - it's okay. Mostly. I guess.”
“How reassuring,” Chloe muttered. “I had a point here.”
“Go on.”
“Your dad and I actually thought alike on a couple of things. I write about what's bothering me, too. It's how I get the bad things out of me so that they don't rot.” She tilted her head. “I thought maybe - it was good enough for your dad. Maybe you should try it.”
“You've already suggested I try this. I'm not much of a writer, Chloe.” Dean said.
“No,” Chloe nodded her agreement. “But you're not much of a talker, either. I thought I'd make one more try. Because this is less messy.”
“Less messy than what?”
“Less messy than you imploding.” She gave him a tight, sad, Mona Lisa smile. “Because seriously, that's where you're headed, Dean. I appreciate that you've helped to hold me together these past few weeks. I'm glad that I've got you to lean on. But now you've got to take care of yourself. And if you won't talk to me, and you won't lean on me, I thought that maybe you could try something like this.”
“You're going to keep pushing, aren't you?”
“I kind of have this reputation for being stubborn.”
“All right,” Dean nodded. “I'll give it a try. But I still think it's stupid.”
“Just . . . humor me.”
“I can do that,” Dean said with a smile. “So, we're going to meet the family for Christmas?”
“In all its dysfunctional glory,” Chloe said. “Aliens, farmers, reporters, senators, former crap factory managers, and mutants with fairy grand-aunts. You should fit right in. And if Uncle Sam is there, we get a front row seat to the Lane cold war.”
“Hm. You think your dad's going to believe that we haven't been sleeping together?”
Chloe opened her mouth, then shut it and gave him a contemplative look. “I could always out myself as a mutant. That should distract him. Maybe.”
Dean chuckled. “We could just feed Cousin Clark a nice Polar Bear liver.”
“Wouldn’t help,” Chloe shook her head. “Alien invulnerability, remember?”
“Is Christmas supposed to be this messed up?”
“It wouldn't be Christmas if it wasn't.” Chloe said. “Ours is just a little bit more of a screwed up family than most.”
“You lumping me and Sam into your dysfunctional family?”
“I thought we already established this,” Chloe said. “You guys adopted me first. If you don't want the rest of the insanity that comes with me, you should have read the fine print.”
Dean shook his head. “As if I'd give you back at this point.” He hugged his journal close, and his girl even closer, before getting up and heading for the car.