I Promise - NC17 - Chloe/Dean - Part 2/10
Title: I Promise
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Romance/Angst/Drama
Category: Smallville/Supernatural [Crossover]
Pairing: Chloe/Dean
Summary: A Winchester's word was as good as gold and if Dean promised to free her, he would.
Previous: Part I,
I Promise
II.
Leaving her like that went against all of his better judgment. He'd seen that look before but it was in people being chased or haunted by some bad sons ‘o bitches. Her... She didn't scare easily; took a lot to get her to the point where she was pleading with her eyes. But when she was staring back at him, she looked ready to beg and that just didn't sit right with him. So he did the only thing he could; reminded her that he promised and hoped she accepted that as truth. Because he meant it; with all of himself. There was no way he letting her rot in there. And it surprised him just how much she lit up at those words; at how much she obviously put stock into him. But as soon as she was gone, around that corner, the flare of her orange jumpsuit gone, he scowled darkly.
The drive back wasn't long; he hit the accelerator and rode his baby hard the entire drive to the Motel. He was angry, pissed, and he wanted something done immediately. He didn't like sitting still when he knew somebody needed him. And the fact that it was her just made it worse. He knew of a handful of people that should be doing something to get her out and he knew now that they weren't. He didn't know why; maybe politics for the General and that Senator friend of hers. Probably secrecy for the League and Clark. There wasn't much Lois could do, but then she was tenacious enough she might just climb the fence and try and break her out old-style, either that or she was liable to get herself thrown in just to be close to her cousin.
But in the end, Chloe was alone, with only him and his brother to try and get her free. She wasn't dumb; she knew anything they did would be illegal and so she must be desperate to just put her life in his hands. He didn't know what was going on in that prison, but he could see her spirit slowly dimming. She was ready to lay down arms, throw up the white flag, and say "I give," and he couldn't let her do that. Wouldn't.
When he finally parked outside the Motel door, he sat in his car a second, trying to stop the rage from boiling over. He wanted to hit somebody or throw something, he just plain needed to yell. At who? The world, probably. Because it was too damn good at fucking over the good people.
Sam sat up quickly when he walked in, closing the door behind him hard enough to be just short of slamming it. "So?" he asked anxiously.
"She's in there," he said roughly, shrugging off his leather jacket and tossing it to a chair before he sat down on the end of his bed.
Sam nodded, running a hand through his hair. "And? How does she look? Is she okay?"
"She looks like she was left high and dry in a prison for three and a half months," he growled, running his hands over his face.
"I checked the records..." Sam sighed. "She hasn't had a visitor in a month."
"Yeah, I figured. She let me know she'd sort of turned ‘em all away." He shrugged, shaking his head. "She's not expecting help. Gave up already." He sighed, frowning darkly. "We're getting her out of there."
"I know." Sam stared at him almost worriedly. "Dean..."
"What?"
"Even if we get her out... She can't go back to her life... She's a fugitive." He shook his head. "I've looked at this from a lawyer's point of view and... well... She's screwed." He frowned sadly. "We get her out... She's gonna have to go underground."
He looked away. "Yeah, well, maybe her League or whatever ‘ll take care of her." Not that they deserved to have her after what they did. Hell, he could see why. Superheroes need to keep themselves hidden and all that bull. But if it was Sam in there or Bobby or even Ellen, he'd have them out, whether or not it meant letting the world know he was alive (again) or getting his ass thrown in there next to them. He wasn't the kinda guy who turned his back on someone in need and he thought the kinda people she worked with weren't either. But apparently, they weren't.
"But you don't want that, do you?" Sam asked in that overly-soft, "time to share" voice of his.
"What is this, Dr. Phil time?" Dean shot back, sneering. "Look, we get her out; that it's. She can do whatever the hell she wants after that."
He nodded. "Okay... I just... I know how much you care for her and--"
"Sammy," he interrupted, staring at him darkly. "Leave it alone, man. Just... Don't, all right?"
Sighing, he nodded.
They were quiet for a moment before finally Dean sighed impatiently. "So what are our options?"
"Well..." Sam let out a heavy breath. "We keep up the husband angle a little while and soon enough, you can put in for a conjugal visit without it looking too weird."
Dean's brows rose dramatically and he smirked, tipping his head to the side. "Conjugal... Like the sound of that."
His brother thinned his eyes, unamused. "Whatever," he muttered. "With a little help from Deacon, we might just be able to get her out that way."
"Deacon?" His brows furrowed. "What's he doing here? I thought he was still over there at, uh, Green River?"
"No," Sam shook his head. "After our great escape, he got transferred. Hendrickson," was all he said to elaborate. "He's working in the same prison as Chloe, but a different cell block. I gave him a call, he said he doesn't often work the conjugal scene because it's, well, a woman's prison. But..." He lifted his shoulder. "He has a good background on him and he might be able to get over there."
"Might? We need a little more than that, Sammy."
"He's working on it." Sam sighed, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. "We can't do much. We just have to wait this one out."
Dean muttered something under his breath before standing up and nearly stomping over to the table, grabbing up his coat.
"Where are you going?" Sam called after him.
"Out," Dean replied heavily before leaving with a slam of the door that rattled the poorly painted pictures on the wall.
After climbing into his Impala, Dean tore out of the parking lot and made his way over to the nearest bar. He was tired and angry and he felt like cheating a few of the locals out of their hard earned cash. He ordered a beer and leaned against the bar, watching as a couple guys squared off on the only table in the joint. He waited his turn, biding his time, all the while thinking to himself that this hadn't been the first thing that came to mind when he'd been resurrected from hell.
Sam hadn't done any explaining, just saying that he was out and he should be happy for it. After what he'd been through and what he saw, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. So he looked up someone in hopes that they might just help him get through all his shit. Only to find she'd been hauled off to prison under FBI suspicion. He nearly laughed, cynical and deep. Of course she was in jail. How could she not be? With their luck, separated or together, something always had to go wrong.
He and Chloe had an odd relationship, that couldn't even really be called a relationship, per se. They met awhile back while he was on a hunt and she was doing a little digging, whether it for the League she worked for or her own journalistic tendencies, he never found out. But for a few weeks, she shadowed them and while he pretended to be annoyed by her interest in the job, he'd really liked having her along for the ride. Eventually though, she had to get back to her life and they had to continue on in their own. They kept up through phone calls that were, more often then not, just a bunch of strange phone messages left on each other's cells.
He wasn't gonna lie; she'd woken something up in him when he first met her and that feeling never really faded. There was something in that big Sullivan grin of hers and the intensity of her eyes; just got him all wound up. And not in a bad way. She got him, in a way he never expected any woman to really manage. She had her girly moments, almost as bad as Sammy did, but in the end, she was pretty much the coolest chick he ever knew. And that didn't bode well. ‘Cause crap like this always ended up happening to anybody he got close to and sooner or later, even if they did get her outta this scrape, their luck was really gonna run out.
He'd get her free, he decided. Whatever it took. And then he'd move on and she'd move on and they'd just go back to how they were. With phone tag and missed calls, that weird little smile he got whenever he heard her voice and sexual tension thick enough to cut with a knife every time they were face to face. It was how it had to be, ‘cause he wasn't gonna get her killed. He had a big enough body bag count behind him as it was and he'd be damned sure she wasn't ever part of it.
He heard a cheer from the pool table and looked up to see that the game was over. He stood up, lifting his chin. It was time to take his mind off all things Chloe-related and just pretend, for a second, that he didn't want a whole lot more than just a ‘thank you and goodbye' from the charismatic blonde. He'd get over it; he always did.
[ Next.]
*Green River is Green River County Detention Center, from episode 2x19 - Folsom Prison Blues
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Romance/Angst/Drama
Category: Smallville/Supernatural [Crossover]
Pairing: Chloe/Dean
Summary: A Winchester's word was as good as gold and if Dean promised to free her, he would.
Previous: Part I,
I Promise
II.
Leaving her like that went against all of his better judgment. He'd seen that look before but it was in people being chased or haunted by some bad sons ‘o bitches. Her... She didn't scare easily; took a lot to get her to the point where she was pleading with her eyes. But when she was staring back at him, she looked ready to beg and that just didn't sit right with him. So he did the only thing he could; reminded her that he promised and hoped she accepted that as truth. Because he meant it; with all of himself. There was no way he letting her rot in there. And it surprised him just how much she lit up at those words; at how much she obviously put stock into him. But as soon as she was gone, around that corner, the flare of her orange jumpsuit gone, he scowled darkly.
The drive back wasn't long; he hit the accelerator and rode his baby hard the entire drive to the Motel. He was angry, pissed, and he wanted something done immediately. He didn't like sitting still when he knew somebody needed him. And the fact that it was her just made it worse. He knew of a handful of people that should be doing something to get her out and he knew now that they weren't. He didn't know why; maybe politics for the General and that Senator friend of hers. Probably secrecy for the League and Clark. There wasn't much Lois could do, but then she was tenacious enough she might just climb the fence and try and break her out old-style, either that or she was liable to get herself thrown in just to be close to her cousin.
But in the end, Chloe was alone, with only him and his brother to try and get her free. She wasn't dumb; she knew anything they did would be illegal and so she must be desperate to just put her life in his hands. He didn't know what was going on in that prison, but he could see her spirit slowly dimming. She was ready to lay down arms, throw up the white flag, and say "I give," and he couldn't let her do that. Wouldn't.
When he finally parked outside the Motel door, he sat in his car a second, trying to stop the rage from boiling over. He wanted to hit somebody or throw something, he just plain needed to yell. At who? The world, probably. Because it was too damn good at fucking over the good people.
Sam sat up quickly when he walked in, closing the door behind him hard enough to be just short of slamming it. "So?" he asked anxiously.
"She's in there," he said roughly, shrugging off his leather jacket and tossing it to a chair before he sat down on the end of his bed.
Sam nodded, running a hand through his hair. "And? How does she look? Is she okay?"
"She looks like she was left high and dry in a prison for three and a half months," he growled, running his hands over his face.
"I checked the records..." Sam sighed. "She hasn't had a visitor in a month."
"Yeah, I figured. She let me know she'd sort of turned ‘em all away." He shrugged, shaking his head. "She's not expecting help. Gave up already." He sighed, frowning darkly. "We're getting her out of there."
"I know." Sam stared at him almost worriedly. "Dean..."
"What?"
"Even if we get her out... She can't go back to her life... She's a fugitive." He shook his head. "I've looked at this from a lawyer's point of view and... well... She's screwed." He frowned sadly. "We get her out... She's gonna have to go underground."
He looked away. "Yeah, well, maybe her League or whatever ‘ll take care of her." Not that they deserved to have her after what they did. Hell, he could see why. Superheroes need to keep themselves hidden and all that bull. But if it was Sam in there or Bobby or even Ellen, he'd have them out, whether or not it meant letting the world know he was alive (again) or getting his ass thrown in there next to them. He wasn't the kinda guy who turned his back on someone in need and he thought the kinda people she worked with weren't either. But apparently, they weren't.
"But you don't want that, do you?" Sam asked in that overly-soft, "time to share" voice of his.
"What is this, Dr. Phil time?" Dean shot back, sneering. "Look, we get her out; that it's. She can do whatever the hell she wants after that."
He nodded. "Okay... I just... I know how much you care for her and--"
"Sammy," he interrupted, staring at him darkly. "Leave it alone, man. Just... Don't, all right?"
Sighing, he nodded.
They were quiet for a moment before finally Dean sighed impatiently. "So what are our options?"
"Well..." Sam let out a heavy breath. "We keep up the husband angle a little while and soon enough, you can put in for a conjugal visit without it looking too weird."
Dean's brows rose dramatically and he smirked, tipping his head to the side. "Conjugal... Like the sound of that."
His brother thinned his eyes, unamused. "Whatever," he muttered. "With a little help from Deacon, we might just be able to get her out that way."
"Deacon?" His brows furrowed. "What's he doing here? I thought he was still over there at, uh, Green River?"
"No," Sam shook his head. "After our great escape, he got transferred. Hendrickson," was all he said to elaborate. "He's working in the same prison as Chloe, but a different cell block. I gave him a call, he said he doesn't often work the conjugal scene because it's, well, a woman's prison. But..." He lifted his shoulder. "He has a good background on him and he might be able to get over there."
"Might? We need a little more than that, Sammy."
"He's working on it." Sam sighed, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. "We can't do much. We just have to wait this one out."
Dean muttered something under his breath before standing up and nearly stomping over to the table, grabbing up his coat.
"Where are you going?" Sam called after him.
"Out," Dean replied heavily before leaving with a slam of the door that rattled the poorly painted pictures on the wall.
After climbing into his Impala, Dean tore out of the parking lot and made his way over to the nearest bar. He was tired and angry and he felt like cheating a few of the locals out of their hard earned cash. He ordered a beer and leaned against the bar, watching as a couple guys squared off on the only table in the joint. He waited his turn, biding his time, all the while thinking to himself that this hadn't been the first thing that came to mind when he'd been resurrected from hell.
Sam hadn't done any explaining, just saying that he was out and he should be happy for it. After what he'd been through and what he saw, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. So he looked up someone in hopes that they might just help him get through all his shit. Only to find she'd been hauled off to prison under FBI suspicion. He nearly laughed, cynical and deep. Of course she was in jail. How could she not be? With their luck, separated or together, something always had to go wrong.
He and Chloe had an odd relationship, that couldn't even really be called a relationship, per se. They met awhile back while he was on a hunt and she was doing a little digging, whether it for the League she worked for or her own journalistic tendencies, he never found out. But for a few weeks, she shadowed them and while he pretended to be annoyed by her interest in the job, he'd really liked having her along for the ride. Eventually though, she had to get back to her life and they had to continue on in their own. They kept up through phone calls that were, more often then not, just a bunch of strange phone messages left on each other's cells.
He wasn't gonna lie; she'd woken something up in him when he first met her and that feeling never really faded. There was something in that big Sullivan grin of hers and the intensity of her eyes; just got him all wound up. And not in a bad way. She got him, in a way he never expected any woman to really manage. She had her girly moments, almost as bad as Sammy did, but in the end, she was pretty much the coolest chick he ever knew. And that didn't bode well. ‘Cause crap like this always ended up happening to anybody he got close to and sooner or later, even if they did get her outta this scrape, their luck was really gonna run out.
He'd get her free, he decided. Whatever it took. And then he'd move on and she'd move on and they'd just go back to how they were. With phone tag and missed calls, that weird little smile he got whenever he heard her voice and sexual tension thick enough to cut with a knife every time they were face to face. It was how it had to be, ‘cause he wasn't gonna get her killed. He had a big enough body bag count behind him as it was and he'd be damned sure she wasn't ever part of it.
He heard a cheer from the pool table and looked up to see that the game was over. He stood up, lifting his chin. It was time to take his mind off all things Chloe-related and just pretend, for a second, that he didn't want a whole lot more than just a ‘thank you and goodbye' from the charismatic blonde. He'd get over it; he always did.
[ Next.]
*Green River is Green River County Detention Center, from episode 2x19 - Folsom Prison Blues