The Heart of Fate - NC17 - Chloe/Dean - Chapter Eight
Title: The Heart of Fate
Category: Smallville/Supernatural
Genre: Romance/Humor/Drama
Ship: Chloe/Dean
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: My Bloody Valentine, Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid, (Season 5)
Word Count: 5,230
Summary: With a little help from Cupid, Dean gets exactly what he needs.
Previous: Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven,
Made by the incredibly awesome dhfreak
VIII.
Sam wasn't a fan of Chinese food; it could be all the grease or maybe the smell, but as hungry as he was, he just couldn't be happy about holding the two giant bags of food in his arms as he walked toward the motel room he, Dean, and Chloe were sharing. A frown curled his lips. Sometimes, it just struck him odd that there was this woman who was now on the road with them, sharing his brother's bed on a regular basis and not waking Sam up with loud, boisterous sex. The situation was weird, to say the least, and he wouldn't say he accepted it or wanted it. If anything, it added more complications. So some part of him agreed with Dean having Chloe, while another part felt like it was a trap. Naturally. What in their lives didn't eventually blow up in their faces?
It wasn't that he didn't like Chloe. In fact, he did. She was smart, not just book wise but to the weirder side of things, too. And she wasn't afraid to take either of them on in a battle of wills, despite looking like she was a pixie surrounded by giants. Gumption, he supposed. She had a lot of it. But it didn't take away from the distraction side of things. What could she provide that would be equal to how much she could get in the way?
Her heart. Cas had said her heart would be the deciding factor in the war, the part to change it all in their favor. He sincerely hoped the often cryptic angel didn't mean literally, because he could already tell that was a no go. Much as Dean tried to pretend he was indifferent to their new partner, it was more than obvious that wasn't the case. Just the way he looked at her, with an intensity he gave to nothing else. And if that didn't say enough, the fact that each and every morning he was wrapped around her like some kind of protective cocoon, ready to do battle in her honor, did. Sam might've laughed, even found it funny that his brother had met his match, if this were under any other circumstances. But with Lucifer and Archangel Michael wanting to use them as their personal chess pieces, he wasn't taking much humor out of another player in the already crowded game. Even if that player might just be the one person alive to heal his brother.
Heal. As in, hopefully put back together the guy who'd been to hell and back, battled all kinds of personal and real demons, and was now expected to become some willing meatsuit to an arrogant angel out to save the world, whatever it took. Sam was skeptical but there was still a shred of hope inside him that when it all ended, if it ended good instead of bloody, like Dean and Bobby expected, that maybe Chloe and Dean could recover from it. That they might last longer than the apocalypse somehow. Happily ever after wasn't often in the Winchester vocabulary, but he supposed he still believed in it, somehow, somewhere really deep, locked away from the threat of morose doom.
With a sigh, he dragged his room key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, using his foot to angle it open so he could get inside and close it without having to leave it open while setting the food down. Careful. What they always had to be, since they were kids, with more expectation and knowing hefted on their shoulders than there should have been.
He didn't notice them until he'd dropped the brown, grease stained bags on the table and was shrugging his jacket off. He nearly tripped over the shirt tossed on the floor, his boots tangling in it. But he righted himself easily enough, turned to yell at Dean for being a slob only to find him half-asleep, wrapped around a dozing Chloe, who appeared to be naked save for the sheet she was wrapped in. Staring at her with furrowed brows of confusion and deep-thinking, Dean stroked his forefinger up and down her bare arm.
Sam felt like he'd walked in on an intimate moment and even considered backing out of the room slowly, pointlessly hoping his brother hadn't noticed him. He got one step before Dean spoke and it wasn't the careless, shrug-off Sam expected.
"What the hell am I doing?" he grumbled.
Sam almost smiled, but held back to save his brother's pride. He ducked his head to direct his amusement at the floor and when he was sure it wasn't showing, looked back to the baffled Dean. "Hoping," Sam offered in answer.
Dean snorted. "Yeah. And for what?"
Sitting down at the table, Sam sighed. "Something better."
He refused to look at him, but cocked a brow in reply.
"Look, Dean… I know this wasn't what you wanted… I'm not even sure I'm rooting for this yet. But… Is it really so bad? I mean…" He looked over at the sleeping blonde beauty. "You could do a lot worse."
Turning a glare in his direction full of irritation and frustration, Dean's jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth. "We've got an apocalypse on our hands, Sammy, try not to play matchmaker."
Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm well aware of what's going on…" he replied in a clipped tone. "But you're not exactly suffering right now."
Dean's lips pursed stiffly. "Yeah, you try being forcefully attracted to a woman 24/7, stuck with nowhere to go and knowing that it ain't going anywhere!"
"Forcefully?" he repeated, unconvinced. "I heard what Cas said, Dean. Everything you feel is exactly what you would anyway, just heightened."
"Bull," he muttered, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
"Should we be having this conversation here?" Sam wondered, looking pointedly at Chloe.
"Please." He snorted, smirking arrogantly. "She'll be out for a few hours."
Sam curled his lip to tell his brother that was too much information, only to get an eye roll in response.
"I'm still wearing clothes, geek."
True. Although, that only highlighted what was probably done while he was gone and now he couldn't help knowing.
"So what is it then? You like her? You don't like her? You wish this wasn't happening? What?"
Shoulders slumped, Dean shook his head. "All of the above?"
"Not an answer."
"Thanks, Dr. Phil. I'll try to be more clear next time," he snapped back sarcastically.
Sam frowned. "Clearly, you wanna talk about it."
"Clearly, I don't know what the hell I want…" Standing up, Dean ran a hand through his cropped hair and then stomped toward the bathroom, although he didn't slam the door Sam was fpretty sure that was more for Chloe's benefit than his.
Conversation over, Sam was left irritated. Shaking his head, he shoved the bags of food out of his immediate vicinity and brooded. He really wished this mess would get itself cleaned up. And quick.
…
Chloe woke feeling rejuvenated. Stretching her arms high above her head and curling her toes into the sheet beneath her, she gave a long sigh of comfort. And then realized she was very, very naked. For a second, confusion reigned. And then, with a faint flush, her memory came rushing back. Of her and Dean, against the wall, on top of the bed. How passionate, how tender, he'd been with her. How many and how incredible the orgasms he'd given her were. Lips stretching in a grin of satisfaction, she sat up in bed holding the sheet to her chest, and realized that the guys were packing their things and talking over coffee that even smelled stale.
"Dude was dead? Like they had the funeral, embalmed him and stuffed him in a wood box six feet under?" Dean asked, brow cocked as he stuffed clothes in his ratty duffel bag.
"Yeah," Sam said, nodding. "I checked and rechecked. Clay Thompson has been dead five years but somebody apparently saw him break into another guy's trailer and kill him."
Dean blinked, frowning. "And this was in Sioux Falls?"
"Yeah. I already called Bobby, but he hasn't isn't answering."
"Huh."
Chloe rubbed the sleep from her eyes and tucked fussy hair behind her ears. "You have a zombie job in Sioux Falls?" she asked, drawing their attention.
Eyes immediately turned toward her, each of them looking surprised to both find her awake and aware of the job, Dean's gaze soon fell below her chin to where she held the sheet close while Sam rolled his eyes.
"Something like that… We've gotta talk to the locals before we can be sure."
Nodding, she sighed. "This means another road trip, right?"
"Yes… And there should still be hot water left. So you should jump in now. Dean can get the rest of your things. We've gotta head out soon."
With a nod and a yawn, she stood from the bed, wrapping the sheet around her as she went. Pausing as she neared Dean, she caught his eyes and half-smiled. "Morning."
Nodding, he cleared his throat. "Yeah, uh, morning." He was trying to look at her and away from her at the same time and for some reason she couldn't help but find that endearing. Deciding to give him a reprieve from any teasing, she continued to the bathroom, trying and failing to hide her grin.
…
A few hours later, Chloe found herself sitting inside a café while the two brothers played big, all-knowing FBI guys as they met up with the person who'd seen a dead man kill his neighbor.
"Remind me again why I can't stay in the car with my trusty laptop?" she'd asked when Dean had decided she'd have to sit inside, near but not with them.
"For one, having you in our car would look suspicious and for another…" He shrugged, frowning stubbornly. "I dunno if I can see you from the diner. So you'll be close enough where we can keep an eye on you and you can't get in trouble."
He said that like she'd often caused him grief, which wasn't true. If she were being honest, trouble did have a habit of following her pretty much everywhere, but since he was currently the trouble in her life, she hadn't had much time for anything else. But, with a sigh, she'd complied, setting up her lap top at the counter bar and asking the waitress for a cup of her finest.
She was sure to walk in a few minutes before the guys so not to arouse suspicion and not to look at them when they stepped inside to look around. A bell rang above the door as Dean yanked it open and Chloe kept her eyes on her laptop screen, where she could vaguely see the shape of the two brothers who paused just in front of the doorway.
"So what do we do?" Sam wondered.
Chloe wanted to roll her eyes. After all these years, shouldn't they have perfected this by now?
Dean simply nodded at the man sitting in the back corner booth. "Well…" He shrugged. "Guess we just do it ourselves."
As they sat down with their source, she contemplated the circumstances. Not for the first time, Chloe wondered who Bobby was. Apparently, he was meant to help them out with this, or at least provide a little insight. They'd been calling him all morning and getting nothing though. This wasn't the first time his name had been tossed around; since finding herself stuck with the Winchester boys, she'd heard them often exchanging calls with him or tossing ideas back and forth and wondering aloud what Bobby would think of it all or what he'd suggest they do. She had yet to meet him and the way they talked about him she assumed he was rather like a father figure, making her even less interested in a face-to-face. She had about enough of the all-male, serious testosterone overload just the two hunters she was tagging along with had and so she wasn't excited to add another to the bunch. But she had no say in what they did or where they went, which was why she was now sitting on an uncomfortable plastic stool, sipping bad coffee and writing an email to her cousin to keep Lois from tracking her down for girl talk over Mahi-Mahi's.
So maybe telling her cousin she was relaxing on some beach had backfired… a little. But she'd hold true to her 'vacation' story as long as she had to. She may not like what was happening, although some parts of it had its upsides, but she knew she had to be here. There was a reason, a purpose, that she was here, with them, and she would just have to see it through to the bitter, or hopefully happy, end.
When the local sheriff arrived, Chloe tensed. Things were either about to get a little easier or a lot harder. Watching from the corner of her eyes, she witnessed the exchange of control and then a phone number. Brows furrowed, she waited to see how it would all play out.
"Bobby?" the Sherriff asked into the phone. The confused look on her face said she'd been expected someone else. Like maybe a supervisor of the FBI.
Crap.
With a long sigh, Chloe realized this was about to blow up in their faces.
Looking between Dean and Sam, the Sheriff appeared pissed. "FBI, huh?"
Immediately looking caught, Sam tried to play innocent. "So, uh… So you know Bobby Singer?"
Chloe covered a snort. Yeah, great recover.
"That is… That is a fun coincidence," Dean offered up, chuckling awkwardly.
Oh God, Chloe inwardly moaned.
"Here's what I know about Bobby Singer…" She pinned them with a dark stare. "He's a menace around here. Ass full of drunken disorderlies and mail fraud, ya understandin' me?"
"I think we all could agree that you made yourself perfectly clear, yes," Dean said, looking between them.
"So whatever the three of you are planning, it ends here. Now." She stabbed a finger at the table. "Ten-four on that, Agents?"
"Yeah," Dean replied, eyes wrinkled at the corners with feigned sincerity while Sam grinned awkwardly.
After the Sheriff left, Chloe closed her laptop, tucked it away in its bag and then spun in her seat, smirking at the boys.
"Not a word," Dean ordered, motioning for her to follow as he and Sam left the diner to grumpily climb in the car.
With a chuckle, Chloe sat down in the backseat. "Now, see… If I'd stayed in the car I wouldn't have witnessed that crushing defeat against your acting skills." Sighing with faux-sadness, she shook her head. "Put in your place by a small town Sheriff… That has got to bruise the ego."
Jaw clenched, Dean turned in his seat, arm anchored over the back. "You done?"
She winked at him and felt a little spark of triumph when his irritation began to fade. Rolling his eyes, he turned back around. "Whadda we do now?"
"Bobby's?" Sam suggested, frowning.
Exhaling heavily, Dean turned the key in the ignition. "Hell."
…
The drive to Bobby's felt long and filled with dread. After her humor over the events in the diner had dimmed, Chloe was left with the obvious and soon-coming meeting between her and Bobby Singer. As Singer Salvage came closer and closer, she stared at the two storey house that had no doubt seen better days. Weathered and battered by nature and little see-to, while it was likely quite nice to look at back when it'd been in its prime, it was rather sad and defeated now. The yard surrounding was filled with the shells of cars, metal bodies and parts strewn in tall piles all over. The dirt road that led inside was bumpy and jarred her in her seat.
She couldn't help the anxiety that crept into her chest. Would he like her? Hate her? Try to exorcise the demon he must assume inhabited her, the only logical reason she was forced into their inner-sanctum. Sam was busy on his laptop, rechecking his research on both the town and the recent occurrence of walking-dead, and Dean was brooding as he drove too-fast toward their long-time friend's home.
Catching her expression in the mirror, he slowed the Impala. "What?" he asked, brows furrowed.
"What?" she replied, chewing her lip.
"You're nervous," he said simply.
She scoffed. "I'm not."
He cocked a brow, slowed the car until it was idling half-way down the drive. "You gonna spill or are we just gonna sit here and wait for the zombies to come knocking?"
Glaring at him, she glanced out the window at the house and then back at him. "Would you say Bobby was a nice guy? Maybe even understanding?'
He snorted, glanced at Sam who looked just as amused, and then turned back to her. "Seriously?"
"What?" Annoyed with his instant reaction to her question, she crossed her arms over her chest. "It's not every day I meet some seasoned hunter who makes a couple guys like you act like scolded children…"
"Scolded ch-" Dean growled, cut himself off and then shook his head. "Look, Bobby's a good guy. Maybe a little gruff or, I dunno, impatient, but he's not gonna attack you or anything."
So, maybe that wasn't what she was actually worried about. Maybe it was more of whether he would like her. As in, she wanted him to. Wanted his approval for some reason. It wasn't every day she met the father figure in her so-called soul mate's life. So was it so crazy that she kind of wanted him to think she was good enough for Dean? Oh god, she thought, rolling her eyes, It was crazy! What the hell was she thinking? Soul mates. Destiny. The whole point of this incredibly weird adventure was that she was part of some bigger game and she was meant to help the likes of Dean in whatever the hell he was supposed to do. Save the world, end the apocalypse, have sex with a sinfully good looking demon-hunter. Or, wait, maybe that last one wasn't really a prerequisite. Whatever.
"I'm fine. Can we go now?" she muttered, turning irritated eyes away from Dean.
He sighed, his jaw ticking like he wanted to say more, but had no words. And finally, he started driving again, only stopping when the Impala reached the front of the house. Up close, she could see the blue paint was peeling and the wear-and-tear wasn't pretty. But it was sturdy-looking, if nothing else. Following them out of the car and up the steps, she stuck behind their tall and wide-shouldered frames as they knocked once and then let themselves inside. She didn't even get a chance to try and make a good impression before the boys were talking shop.
Following Bobby, who was apparently in a wheel-chair from what she could now see of the older man taking the forefront after meeting them in the front hall, the boys entered a library-looking living room. "Do you know how many times we tried calling you?" Dean asked, and though his question was abrupt his tone was almost worried. "Where've you been?"
"Playing Murderball," Bobby snapped back, turning around to face them as they paused in the middle of the room.
"What is that smell?" Dean asked.
Chloe sniffed the air but couldn't find anything distinctly wrong or out of place. If anything, Bobby's place smelled cleaner than most of the dumps they'd been staying in lately.
With furrowed brows, Dean asked, "Is that soap?"
She sighed. It'd take a guy to make it sound like that smell was bad.
"Did you clean?"
Offended, Bobby cocked his head slightly. "What are you, my mother? Bite me!"
Oookay, Chloe thought, Now she knew where these boys got their attitudes.
"Bobby, seriously," Sam intervened.
"I've been working, you know, tryin' to find a way to stop the devil." He glanced past them to stare at Chloe. "Something other than what the angels are giving us anyway."
She felt as though she should flinch at that but didn't. "Yeah, hi, thanks for the vote of confidence," she piped up.
Slightly amused, Bobby cocked a brow. "So you're our Godsend, huh?"
She quirked a smile. "He said his name was Castiel… You know something I don't?"
"She's smart." His eyes narrowed. "We'll see if that's a good thing or not." Turning back to Sam and Dean, he waited for them to continue their mini-interrogation.
"So? You got anything?" Dean asked.
Bobby scoffed. "What d'you think?"
"Bobby, it's just… There's a case…" Sam sat down on a nearby table, "Less than five miles from your house."
Stepping to the side, Dean glanced back at her and motioned with his head for her to come out from hiding in the shadows.
Rolling her eyes, she joined him the few inches closer.
"What the… The Benny Sutton thing?" Bobby looked confused, even irritated. "That's what this is about?"
Dean glanced at Sam and then back at Bobby. "You knew about that?"
"Hell yes, I checked into it already. There's nothing here."
Eyes wide, Sam argued, "Except a witness who saw a dead guy commit murder!"
Chloe watched them exchange words, arguing back and forth, volleying facts about supernatural omens and countering with the truth of South Dakota weather and drunken witnesses.
"Guys, I thought it was something, too," Bobby assured. "Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."
"So, who killed the guy?"
Bobby shrugged it off. "Take your pick. That Benny Sutton guy was a grade A son-of-a-bitch." He glanced at her, offering, "'Scuse my language." And then returned his eyes to between Sam and Dean, "There's a list of the living a year long who wouldn't mind puttin' a cap in his ass."
The Winchester brothers nodded.
"So you're tellin' us…" Dean shook his head. "Nothing."
Lifting his hands in defeat, Bobby sighed. "Sorry. Think you wasted a tank of gas on this one."
Chloe didn't know Bobby, couldn't say she knew his gestures or his way of talking or what his tells were for lying or truth-telling, but she got the distinct feeling that he wasn't being honest with them right then. And it didn't sit right with her at all. But then, she couldn't exactly start pointing fingers at someone they'd known all their lives and expect them to believe her. And for all she knew, they had the same feeling.
"Great," Dean muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
With little conversation left to exchange, it wasn't long before they were on their way out.
"Hey," Bobby called, nodding toward Chloe.
Pausing, she looked back at him and then at the guys who were well on their way down the porch and toward the car. Meeting Bobby at the doorway, she half-smiled.
Narrowing his eyes at her, he leaned forward in his chair, arms resting stiffly at his sides. "Let's get somethin' real straight, Blondie. I don't know you, I don't trust you, and if you do anything to hurt those boys, I will kill you." He lifted his brows. "Got me?"
Frowning, Chloe nodded. "Loud and clear." Just as he was about to wheel away though, she leaned down and places her hands on either side of him, wrapping her fingers around his wrists and gaining his attention. "And just so you're clear… I'm here because as screwed up as this all is, I was told I could do something to save the world. Maybe I'm not sure what that is yet, but I will do it. And another thing…" She leaned down a little closer. "I don't know you either, but after that little exchange in there, I do know you're lying. So if you think I trust you, you'd be dead wrong." Standing back up, she took a step away from him and tucked her hands in her pockets. "And if you hurt either of those boys with whatever you're doing, then believe me… Retribution is a bitch!"
"Chloe, let's go," Dean called out to her.
"I'm coming," she replied, before staring Bobby down a moment longer.
"Be seein' you," he said in farewell.
"A lot, I'm sure," Chloe returned before walking down the stairs and hopping in the backseat on the Impala, her brows furrowed in concentration.
"What was that?" Dean asked her, staring at her from his seat up front and expecting an honest answer.
"Just getting to know each other," she murmured before turning her face from him and staring at the foreboding Singer house once more.
She didn't like what she knew so far.
…
When night fell, Chloe found herself still musing over Bobby as Dean slowed just as they passed the sign reading St. Anthony's Cemetery. Not exactly the kind of place she frequented, but she assumed all would be explained soon enough.
Apparently, Sam was just as out of the loop, because when they came to a stop on the side of the road, he looked around questioningly and asked, "What's up?"
Sliding to the center of the backseat, Chloe leaned forward and perched her chin on her arm, eyes moving in between the two guys.
"In't that the graveyard back there?" Dean replied.
Sam looked back to be sure and then said, "Yeah, so what? Bobby already checked it out."
"And? What? Bobby's never wrong?"
Bobbing his head to and fro, Sam didn't exactly reply.
"Come on, we'll take a peek and then we'll hit the road."
Chloe wondered if it was completely bizarre that she'd rather check out the cemetery and their job then just leave it like it was. Granted, she wasn't sure she thought Bobby was right about this non-job, but she also wasn't equipped for this kind of job in the first place. So maybe staying out of it was the best idea. Though it wasn't one of her strong suits. Thankfully, she didn't have to make the decision. They came to their own conclusion and soon enough the three of them were walking through the spooky cemetery with flashlights in hand.
Not that she was exactly arguing, but… "Why am I here with you two? The car does lock doesn't it?"
Dean glanced back at her, brows slightly raised above his eyes. "Didn't we already have this conversation earlier? I can't keep an eye on you when you're in the car."
"Because I'm prone to do what, exactly?" she sighed, hugging her arms around her waist. "If I wanted to ditch you two, I would have already."
"It's not you I think will 'cause trouble," he muttered under his breath.
Rubbing her arms to keep the chill off, Chloe rolled her eyes. "Can I at least get a heads-up the next time you two plan on doing a little cemetery visiting? I didn't really dress for this."
He snorted but a second later he had her hauled up at his side, an arm looped over her shoulder and the flashlight in his fingers. With a grin, her turned it back and shined it in her eyes.
"Hey!" she exclaimed, shoving her elbow into his side.
"Quiet… You don't wanna wake the dead."
Snickering, she stared up at him drolly. "Ha, ha."
"Guys," Sam sighed.
Dean rolled his eyes but shut up.
Standing this close to him, Chloe couldn't say her memory didn't get the better of her. For a moment, she remembered just how very nicely built he was under his t-shirt and jacket. The heat that radiated off him and soaked into her sent a shiver down her spine that she hardly managed to quash. Apparently assuming she was shivering from the cold, Dean tossed the flashlight to the other hand and then rubbed his free palm up and down her arm, thumbs stroking her skin. Except that only served to remind her of how he'd run those same fingers all over her naked body, making her shudder and whimper and clench all around him.
"You okay?"
"Hm," she replied in a bit of a daze.
Before Dean could repeat himself, their attention was drawn elsewhere.
"Hey…" Sam turned his flashlight toward a grave all of a sudden. Clay James Thompson read the headstone before the beam of light was lowered to the ground.
"That look fresh to you?" Dean asked.
"Yeah, actually…"
And then the shovels appeared to begin digging.
Given that she wasn't much of a grave digger, Chloe stepped aside to let the boys have at it. Sitting atop a headstone, her feet kicking to and fro, she held the light while the two of them put their backs into it. Wearing Dean's jacket to keep the cold off, she cocked her head and watched as the casket was slowly revealed. For a moment, she felt a thrill of anticipation when Dean jumped out of the hole and Sam reached down to yank the door, that had a pretty beat-up looking top with broken wood shards all over, open. Her breath caught in her throat as she leaned forward to see what would be there. A dead and very rotted corpse or-
The door opened with a creak and a snap.
An empty satin bed where Clay Thompson should be resting.
With a labored inhale, Sam stared down with furrowed brows before wondering, "What is going on here?"
Pursing his lips, Dean shook his head. "I dunno, but something stinks."
"I'd like to make a decomposing body joke," Chloe muttered, "But this just doesn't feel like a good time." Standing, she crossed the short space between them to kneel next to Dean. "So, what now?"
"Now… We go check out the dead dude's family home…"
Chloe frowned. "Why…?"
"'Cause…" Standing up, Dean dusted his knees off. "Just like Dorothy, when we're lost, we all wanna get back to the one place we were safe and taken care of."
Realizing, Chloe nodded. "Well, come on, Tinman…" Looking down at Sam, she grinned, "And you too, Wizard."
Following her away from the grave, Dean argued, "Hey! Why's he getta be the Wizard and I'm a lousy tin guy?"
She snorted.
This was going to be a very long job.
When Dean reached her side and unexpectedly took her hand, leading her in the direction of the car, smirking at her knowingly, she couldn't say she was really disappointed with the outcome so far. Walking dead, lying family friends and grave digging aside… She kind of liked working along with the Winchesters. Fingers interlocked with Dean's and his thumb stroking along her pulse, she could definitely say there were incentives.
"Scarecrow!" Dean argued. "Sam's more Scarecrow than Wizard."
"How about Toto?" she replied, half-smiling between them.
He shrugged, feigning like he didn't care. "I can live with that."
Sam rolled his eyes, but smiled lightly to himself.
Yeah, he was probably more Toto, anyway. Out to take a bite of the evil witch and stay true as a friend the whole way through. She imagined that fit him best.
Besides, if anybody was the Wizard, hiding truths and convincing those who trusted him of something else, it was Bobby Singer. But how the hell was she supposed to tell these two that?
[Next: Chapter IX.]