Stuck With You - NC17 - Chloe/Dean - Part 1/5
Title: Stuck With You
Category: Smallville/Supernatural [Crossover]
Rating: NC17
Genre: Romance/Humor/Drama
Pairing: Chloe/Dean
Summary: Love at first confinement.
sarcastic_fina
1/5
I - First Meetings
He'd been heavy into the hunt, focusing on every little sound and creak and even the whistle of the wind. He'd been taught since he was young that being on guard was an ‘always' not a habit of circumstance. EMF wasn't going off and he couldn't get a handle of any supernatural beings lurking inside the house. He stepped inside a room with only two exits, the one he entered and the one the woman across from him had barreled through in a heap. He was shocked to see her; especially given he hadn't heard so much as a peep in that direction. The door slammed behind him, effectively forcing him further into the room.
The woman on the floor groaned but rose from the ground quickly, with an agility that surprised him. Her wig had slipped off from the tumble and instead of pin straight black hair, he saw blonde curls that fell to her shoulders, slipping from the bobby pins previously hiding her hair from his view. She stretched her back and his brows rose, suddenly his attention was no longer on the situation at hand, but the blonde bombshell before him. She was all curves and lean plains. He swallowed tightly.
She looked over at him, only now realizing he was there and suddenly a black magnum was pointed at his face. He blamed his hormones for deciding it just made her that much more sexy. She stared at him hard, green eyes boring into him with suspicion. His eyes took in the vivid green and then looked away quickly, taking in the rest of her. She wasn't packed to the nines with weapons. He saw the glint of silver and knew there were a couple daggers strapped to her thighs. Thighs that led up to wide hips and a flat stomach. His eyes settled on the swell of her perky breasts beneath the tight leather suit. He shook his head. He had to get his mind out of the gutter before it got him killed. She was, after all, packing heat.
"Catwoman, was it?" he asked sarcastically, lifting a brow. "You wanna put the peashooter away? I gotta thing about having guns pointed at me?" He glared. "I don't like it."
She snorted. "Just as soon as you put away the sawed off," she replied, lifting a brow. "Pretty big gun... Trying to make up for something?"
He laughed. "Sweetheart, I am fully prepared to show you just how capable I am under the sheets." He frowned. "Just as soon as you tell me what you and your little leather outfit are doing here."
She kept her gun straight and aimed right for his heart. Despite the fierce expression on her face, he didn't think she'd shoot him. Not without sufficient evidence that he was a bad guy, deserving of a bullet to the chest. "And I have to answer to you... why? Don't pull the local police angle either. They're all twice your age and have guts as big as your ego." She smiled wickedly.
"If you don't have to answer my questions, I don't have to answer yours," he replied, lifting a shoulder. "So we can either keep going with this pissing contest or work together to get out of this room." He nodded toward the door. "I haven't checked mine, but fifty bucks and a thorough tour of my bed says it's locked and it won't be opening soon."
"Tempting," she muttered, hand falling back to the door and turning it to find it would barely move. "But something tells me your bed is more of a one-stop only and I have far better things to do with the five minutes of my life you'd waste."
He grinned. "You have quite the mouth on you, huh?"
"Yes and if you say anything about wanting it on you, I really am going to shoot you," she replied, lifting a brow as she smirked.
He nodded, lifting his other hand in a sign of surrender and then lowered his sawed off to his side. "Look, I'm not here to get into it with any locals or... whatever circus you escaped from. Me and my brother heard a few things about this place and we were just checking it out." He shrugged, staring at her in the closest thing to comforting he could manage.
She let her arm fall slowly, her body becoming a little more relaxed. "Well whatever you and your brother were looking for, it's probably not what's actually here," she told him, her expression veiled.
He licked his lips in amusement. "Yeah, right... I'm sure it's completely out of the ordinary. Something I have no understanding of," he replied sarcastically.
She put her gun away in her holster and let her hands fall to her hips, which only drew his eyes back down the slender slope of her waist once more. "Eyes up here, Tiger," she called out, tone amused. "I don't know who you are or why you're here but as soon as my friends get here, it's probably best if you leave."
"Why? You gotta big bad monster you need to take care of?" he asked, lifting an interested brow.
Her eyes darkened. "Something like that."
And with those few words, he knew that it wasn't a matter of the supernatural, but one of those fucked up human things. He'd never understand them. Demons he got; but humans were just screwed up. So he nodded. "Soon as we get out," he agreed.
"Good," she said, her tone stiff. She tapped her foot before looking over her shoulder and taking a deep breath. She tapped her ear and then muttered, "Watchtower to base... Come in base, this is Watchtower..." She shook her head, frowning. "Great... Apparently creepy rooms that lock on their own don't get very good reception."
"Yeah, who knew abandoned buildings didn't get Verizon," he replied, leaning back against the wall with a scowl. "Guess we'll have to try this the old fashioned way..." He banged on the door with the palm of his hand, loud enough for it to echo, rattling the frame harshly. "Hey! Sammy! Come on! Sam!"
Following in his footsteps, she turned and started banging on her door, kicking it with her boots for emphasis. "Hey! Can anybody hear me? Impulse? Cyborg?" She sighed, slamming her fist down harder. "Arrow? Aquaman?" Over and over, they both yelled and screamed and hit the door until their hands nearly bled. Dean even tried kicking it open, but only resulted in making his knee throb.
"Great," she sighed, slumping to sit on the floor. "Any second now, we'll find out the floor is a trick and fall into a pit of doom."
"Thanks for the uplifting speech, Miss Cheerful."
She rolled her eyes, resting her arms on her knees. "I don't have the greatest track record with places like this."
"And yet here you are..." He lifted a questioning brow, settling himself against the wall. If a spirit did show up, he had his gun ready, and if his brother got his ass in gear and found him, he'd be ready to go. No point in standing around though and his knee was hurting just enough to make him sit on the floor, barely lit by the dim and dying light bulb hanging in the center of the ceiling.
She gnawed her lip for a moment, looking around the room with keen eyes, searching for some kind of latch or trigger to let them out, he was sure. Sam got that look sometimes; the real studious, ‘I'm gonna figure this one out logically' look. He couldn't hear anything outside of the room which only made him antsy. He hoped his brother was okay. Then again, it might do him some good if he was locked away with some leather clad hot chick...
"So... Is leather in this season or was that on wholesale?" he asked, sparking up the closest thing to chit chat he could manage. What could he say? She amused him.
She pursed her lips to hide a smile. "What? You don't think I make it work?"
He grinned. "Oh I never said that... Gotta chafe a little though."
She wiggled around, the skintight suit hugging her all the more. "You get used to it."
He frowned. "Doubt it." He looked down at his own apparel. "I'll stick to comfort."
She lifted a brow, shrugging. "Some of us just don't have the body for it, I guess."
He snorted. "Me? Lady, I'm all muscle under here."
"Muscle and ego, I see." She nodded. "Must go hand in hand," she muttered under her breath.
"Yeah, just like snark and pretty faces."
"So that's all I am to you?" she replied sarcastically. "A pretty face?"
He licked his lips. "Well at least you have the body to go with the face..." He leered rather playfully. "How do you get all those curved packed in there so tight?"
"Practice?" She leaned forward, a passionate expression passing her face. "You wanna know how I get it off?"
He gulped, only managing a jerky nod.
She grinned, leaning back once more, completely at ease. "That's a story best saved for the next time we get locked in a room together."
He groaned, shaking his head. "Cruel, cruel tease."
She laughed, the sound rather melodic and making his gut clench weirdly.
"I'm Dean," he introduced, holding a hand out for her to shake.
She reached over, shook it firmly and then sat back. "You can call me Watchtower."
"Jimi Hendrix fan, huh?" He nodded. "Not bad."
She smiled, eyes falling. "Lemme guess..." She looked him over, eyes thinned. "Classic rock."
He smirked. "Got it in one. I'm impressed."
She fake-bowed. "Research is my business; I've learned to read people."
"Yeah? Didn't know I was an easy read."
"Something tells me facets of you are easy and others are very, very hard." Her eyes thinned, staring at him heatedly.
"You're killing me over here," he muttered, licking his lips.
"Don't give me any ideas..." She grinned, eyes glittering with humor. "I barely know you and somehow you have this effect on me..."
"Yeah?" He smirked.
"Yeah, it makes me want to hit you and verbally spar at the same time... Rare, but I like it."
He chuckled. "Huh, wasn't the answer I was expecting." His brows furrowed.
She snorted. "I bet not." She shook her head. "Not used to being turned down, are you?"
His brows lifted and he shrugged his shoulders. "What can I say? I'm charmingly adorable."
She grinned, nodding. "Yeah, I'm sure you are... When not locked in mysterious rooms with people you don't know..."
"You'd be surprised."
She guffawed, shaking her head.
"So... you hang out here often?"
The smile she gave him made him grin back goofily. "You're not giving up, are you?"
"Failure's never an option," he replied, eyeing her sideways. "Especially not when there's such an appealing reward."
"You think I'm appealing now, wait until we get out of here. The strange and dangerous follow me like a toxic cloud. Trust me; you're better off using the love sick puppy routine on someone else."
"Love sick puppy?" He reared away from the insinuation. She might intrigue him, but he wasn't about to fall. Ever.
"Oh, have I offended your sensitive disposition?" she teased.
He snorted. "First of all, I don't do the love sick puppy routine. Ever. Secondly, whatever effed up weird thing you got after you, I probably know more about it than you do." He lifted his shoulders. "So let it out, I'll offer you some free advice on how to get rid of it." He motioned to the room. "Got nothing but time."
She sighed, letting her head fall back against the wall. "Where to start..." And then he was introduced the wild life of a girl he didn't know. Meteor freaks, possessions, being buried alive, a dream to become a reporter and a nightmare of becoming all that she'd spent her adolescent years fighting against. It spilled out of her like a faucet set on high. She took a deep breath and then let it out shakily. "Yeah, so... If you've got some kind of cure... send it my way." She smiled raggedly, eyes turned downward.
He lifted a brow. "But healing is kick ass. I mean, come on, given your lifestyle, it's obvious that's gotta come in handy." He lifted a shoulder, crossing his arms over his chest. "Personally, I wouldn't mind being able to heal a little quicker." He frowned; or a lot quicker. Some hunts had him feeling like he was eighty; bent over and achy in places that should never ache. "And all the others, their power wasn't like yours. They were corrupted to begin with. They were bad seeds given the opportunity to go crazy, why wouldn't they? You, on the other hand..." He shook his head. "You literally fight for good; what do you have to worry about?"
She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. He could see she'd loosened up drastically. Her body was no longer on attack mode, instead sitting comfortably across from him. "Maybe the others weren't all bad... Maybe the opportunity their powers gave them eventually got to them. Maybe there's something in meteor rocks that turns people bad."
"Nah." He shook his head. "I don't believe it. People are screwed up, I know that. But they either are or aren't evil. Some of ‘em make mistakes and some of ‘em just decide fuck the consequences. You're the type that might get into trouble but it's not for your benefit so much as others." He shrugged. "You're one of the good ones. That's all it is. You think you'll go bad because all you've seen is a bunch of amped up meteor freaks avenging their shitty childhoods. But you don't know all of the infected people out there. Some of them could be using their powers for good; some of them could just not be using them." He sighed. "There's a decision in the end. You do good, you do bad, or you do nothing. You chose good and you just happen to have a power to help you with that." He licked his lips. "Lucky you."
She nodded slowly, mouth quirking at the sides. "Lucky me," she murmured thoughtfully.
They were quiet for a long moment, both of them trying to hear for outside noises. Fed up, Dean dug out his lock pick, just remembering he had it, and tried to undo the door from the inside. He knelt by the handle, his knee still throbbing incessantly, but not enough to put him of commission.
"So what about you?" she asked, crawling over to kneel next to him, watching as he picked the lock. "What's your story?"
He glanced at her, wondered why he felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach when her curious green eyes met his full on and up close. Damn, she was even prettier face to face. Her blonde bangs brushed her cheeks and he ignored the urge to reach out and push them away, to feel that pale skin of hers. She looked soft, despite being dressed head to toe in leather and brandishing a magnum and two daggers. Her pink lips curved up and he forced his eyes away as she wet them. "My story?" he forced out, furrowing his brow as he returned his attention to the door handle.
"Yeah. You know, how you got here doing whatever it is you do, you didn't really say..." She lifted a brow.
He sighed, frowning slightly. "I hunt things," he muttered.
"You hunt... things." Her eyes narrowed. "What kind of things?"
He glanced at her, the suspicion in her eyes enough to make him wince. "Not like meteor things, more like... like supernatural things."
"And meteor freaks don't fall into that category?" she asked, slightly amused.
"I hunt more of the demonic type things... Ghosts, creatures from hell, murderous demons, you know... Things."
"Monsters under the bed?"
"Real."
"In the closet?"
"Rare but real."
"Boogeyman?"
"Not yet confirmed."
"Uh... Santa?" Her eyes stared at him thinly, almost challengingly.
He snorted.
She grinned. "So despite what you've seen, you're not sure about the good kind of supernatural?"
"It's unlikely that a big guy in a red suit is handing out gifts to every kid in the world. If he was, he might try updating his books," he muttered.
"Maybe not all kids..." She nodded. "But those in need..."
He looked over at her, lifting a brow.
"What? After the life story I just gave you, you don't think I've seen a bit of the weird and unexplainable."
"Something tells me you're the type to explain the unexplainable," he returned, forcing his gaze back toward the lock. Why the hell wasn't it opening?
She smiled, proudly. "So you hunt these things and then... what?"
"Kill ‘em." He nodded.
"Yeah? How?" she wondered, leaning forward in anticipation.
"You're a little twisted, huh?" He smirked. "I like it."
She pursed her lips to hide her smile, shaking her head. "Perv. Now tell me how you do it?"
He lifted a suggestive brow.
She sighed, laughing at his overt sexuality. "Seriously!"
"All right, all right. Don't beg." He grinned. "Depends on what it is. If it's a spirit, we can usually salt and burn the bones, when we can find ‘em." He shrugged. "Werewolves, solid silver bullets. Possession, there's a complicated exorcism performed. Uh, symbols and protection charms can be used to keep things in or out. Salt is good to have on hand, always." He sighed, running a hand over his hair as he thought it through. "Some demons just need to be faced with what they did or brought to where they did it."
"Huh..." She nodded, a smile curving her mouth. "Interesting."
He shrugged; at least she wasn't calling him crazy and moving to the other side of the room. And he didn't even have to save her from something; self locking rooms aside. Hell, she didn't even ask for proof, just took his word for it. She really must've seen some stuff in her life to just believe blindly that things that go bump in the night aren't just a tale to scare kids.
"So you're here on some kinda story?" he asked, cocking a brow.
She shook her head. "This one probably won't make it into the paper and if it does, it'll be covered up."
Her forehead wrinkled. "So where does the recognition come in?" A reporter goes solo and doesn't want any credit? Yeah right.
"Uh, that would be the warm fuzzy feeling in the pit of my stomach, I would guess." She shrugged. "There are a lot of people out there doing illegal and immoral things, but..." She frowned. "They have the money to hide those activities. To make it look like they were the victims." Her expression darkened. "And as much as we try to change that, the really bad ones just keep doing it."
"Guess we got something in common," he agreed rather bitterly. With a sigh, he let his arms fall. "This isn't going to open from this end."
"Let me try," she suggested.
He looked over at her with skepticism. Rolling her eyes, she bumped him with her hip and took the tool from his hand.
"You think I've never picked a lock before?"
"You remind me more of the computer hacker type," he said, looking her up and down. "Even if you do dress like something right out of a geek's comic book wet dream."
She snorted, skillfully moving the pick around inside the lock. Despite the lack of door opening, he could tell she'd definitely done this a time or two. And maybe if the door wasn't hardwired not to open she would've got them out. He had been a little distracted with her kneeling so close.
Finally, she sighed, and collapsed to sit down against the wall, muttering under her breath. "Talk about a going away present."
He frowned. "Where you going?"
She looked up slightly startled, realizing she must've said it loud enough to hear. Admittedly, most others wouldn't have, but there wasn't a whole lot to pay attention to outside of the curvy woman sitting across from him.
She exhaled heavily, letting her head fall back to hit the wall. "This is my last official mission as Watchtower."
"That mean by the end of the night I might actually get your real name?"
She snorted, rolling her eyes.
"So what? You're going back to the paper?" He frowned; maybe he shouldn't have been so open about the whole hunting thing. It was like there was no filter on his mouth around her and that could be dangerous. Maybe he'd just have to steer clear from Metropolis; wasn't like many would believe her anyway. They barely believed him after he saved their lives!
"Never," she said, only half-mournfully. "The people I work for are expanding, leaving to broaden their scope of heroism, I guess." She shook her head. "And I don't quite belong with them." She tried to smile. "So I found them a new Watchtower, except she goes by Oracle, and she'll be filling in from here on out." She closed her eyes.
"Why don't you fit?"
"Sometimes I do... Others I don't. I tried working behind just the computer and it didn't work out. I work better in the field. But then I realized in the field I was too much of a liability. They've been a team for a long time and they work great together. But I... I don't fit into their team." She chuckled lightly. "Don't get me wrong, I play well with other just fine. I rarely bite anymore." She looked over to him, her eyes glittering with amusement. "But this team is full and I'm just getting in the way. So..." She inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. "I told them I'd be moving on, to what I have no idea, but it was time I shelved the superhero dream and just... found myself again. You know? It's like somewhere in between the Daily Planet and working with these elite group of superheroes, I just sort of... lost who I was." She furrowed her brows. "That's gotta be the weirdest thing to say, ever."
"I've heard a few doozies, but that's up there." He leaned his arms on his legs. "So you're a retired reporter and superhero, what's next?" He lifted a brow. "If you keep the leather, you've got a great future in exotic dancing."
She laughed, her face lighting up. He grinned, oddly proud of himself for making her happy.
"I'll be sure to look into that." She smirked at him. "Top of my list."
"I'll keep my eyes open for your show." He winked.
She shook her head. "Knowing my luck, the room would be filled with freaks out to kill me." She snorted. "Besides, I should keep a low profile and putting myself out as a target, with nothing but a steel pole to cover me might be a little suicidal."
"Well, at least if you die, you go out looking hot."
She chuckled, petering off on a sigh. "You're too much, you know that?"
He shrugged.
They sat in silence for a few minutes; both listening hard for some kind of rescue attempt but nothing could be heard except for their breathing. "So obviously you work and play hard," he mentioned, looking over to her. "How are you going to go back to a normal apple-pie life?"
"I probably won't," she admitted. "I don't think I'm destined to be normal." She shook her head. "I just haven't found my calling, I guess. I thought it was writing, being a reporter, working at the DP, but that fell through... Now my cousin has the dream job I always wanted." She sounded rather bitter but oddly proud at the same time. "And the superhero bit didn't work out well, obviously..."
"Except for the hot outfit... still working."
She smiled. "So now I'm free, with no direction and a whole lot of background I can't even put on a resume."
"Driving in, I noticed Taco Bell was hiring."
She threw him a look and he lifted his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm just trying to help you out here."
"Yeah, well, shut up," she muttered. "You already do what you're made for."
"Do I?" He nodded, looking away for a moment. "Sometimes it feels that way, other days I think I would've liked to never know... To just be one of those guys, going through life and never knowing what was out there." That was more than he'd admit to Sam and he was surprised by his honesty.
"Really?" She stared at him quizzically. "Why?"
"Beside the fact that this life tends to kill everybody I love?" His brows lifted. "Uh, long hours, little pay, constant danger around ever corner... Kinda speaks for itself, I guess."
She nodded. "I'm sorry."
He shrugged. "You didn't do anything..." He lifted a brow. "Unless you've recently dabbled in demons or hell creatures...?"
She snorted, shaking her head. "Not my style."
"Good." He nodded. "Don't."
"Yes, sir," she agreed, smiling lightly. She stood up from the floor, stretching her legs as she walked around the room. "You're not like a lot of the guys I've met," she admitted.
"That good or bad? ‘Cause currently you're running with superheroes."
"Good," she assured. "The majority of men I've known have tried to kill, dismember or dissect me." She shrugged, leaning back against the wall across from him.
He was mildly shocked for a second, but it wore off quickly. "Huh... You should work on that."
"Yeah? I don't think I can put out an ad that asks for a nice, funny guy, no meteor infected history, likes the weird but isn't a prime story to the fact, non-murderous, justice will prevail type who can cook."
He smirked. "I can't cook but I know a great diner for pretty much every place you can think of."
She stared at him skeptically, brows lifted and mouth half-frowning, half-smiling. "I've just given you the short version of my life history, which let me remind you is pretty screwed up, and you still want me?"
"That should be a tick in the pros list for why you should let me take you out to dinner," he told her, nodding.
She laughed shortly, shaking her head. "Trust me; I'm doing us both a favor by saying no. If you're not already nuts, I'd probably turn you."
"Giving up on us before we even start?" He blew out a breath. "Goes straight to the heart."
She crossed her arms beneath her chest, only emphasizing her leather clad breast more. "I'm not your type, Dean," she assured.
"Feisty, beautiful, has a strange affair with the weird... Uh yeah, I think you're exactly my type."
"I'm also a monogamous, long-term type." She shook her head. "And given both of our lifestyles, that is just not in the cards for us."
"We could try..." He shook his head, why was he pushing this? "I'll probably be in town a couple more days."
"And I'm leaving tonight. Retirement, remember? The jet is waiting to take me home."
"Jet... Fancy." He nodded slowly. "I hate flying."
"You get used to it."
He stood up from the floor. "So that's it? You meet a hot stranger in a self-locking room, tell him your life story, hear his, and then walk away?"
"That's all there can be." She shook her head, staring up at him as she stepped away from the wall. "I honestly have no idea why I told you all that..." She sighed. "It usually scares off potential dates." Her lips quirked with a smile. "You're different, I'll give you that."
"And hot," he added, nodding.
She chuckled. "And hot." She glanced down and then back up at him. "But as soon as those doors open, your brother is going to pull you one way and my team is going to drag me another... And I'll probably never see you again." She shrugged. "Which is probably best."
He nodded, looking away for a moment. "Meet a girl who can finally get me and she's a retiring superhero who wants to end things before they start." He laughed, sighing heavily. "Yeah, sounds like my luck."
She stared up at him with apologetic green eyes, so deep and vivid he found himself a little hypnotized.
"You sure you don't wanna kiss and make up?"
She smiled. "Charm doesn't fade, does it?"
He smirked. "Ingrained with it."
She nodded, eyes seeming to take in every plain of his face, like she was memorizing him. "Couldn't hurt," she murmured.
His eyes widened with surprise. He heard her chuckle and then she was lifting up on her tip toes, her arms raising to wrap around his neck and her lips brushing against his. His smirk faded, eyes fell shut of their own volition, and then he was kissing her full on. Her lips were soft against his, hot and parted to let his tongue in. She gave as good as she got; her tongue tangling with his, her teeth grazing his lips. The heat between them was palpable. His arms wrapped around her waist, hands sliding up her leather-clad back, taking in all those curves. Their mouths slanted, back and forth, noses bumping, barely taking the time to breathe. She tasted sweet; like melted candy. One of his hands buried in her hair, palm sliding up the back of her neck. She arched up against him, her slender body pressing against his tightly. For a first and last kiss, it was definitely memorable.
They slowed down, parting from each other with lingering pecks. His eyes opened slowly, half-lidded, watching her flushed face. Her eyes were still closed, brows lifted in slight surprise. Her hair was in a bit of disarray from his hands tightening in it. Her body slowly fell away from his, with her landing flat on her feet, eyes finally opening to stare up at him with dazed satisfaction. She licked her lips, slightly swollen from their kissing, and let her arms fall from around his shoulders, hands sliding down his chest lingeringly before falling to her sides. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to straighten it, and cleared her throat rather nervously.
"Well... That was..."
He smirked and she rolled her eyes, stepping away from him.
"You know, arrogance really isn't attractive."
He lifted a brow. "Yeah, I can still taste your dislike for it." He licked his lips, winking.
She scoffed, shaking her head. She opened her mouth to say something but then, simultaneously, the doors on either side slammed open, with Sam tumbling through on one end, and a band of weirdly dressed superheroes falling through the other.
Both he and Watchtower grabbed for the doors, holding them wide open so they wouldn't close and lock them all inside.
Standing up, Sam brushed himself off, glanced at the other side of the room with slight confusion and then turned to his brother. "We have to go," he announced.
Dean nodded. "Yeah, I was thinking the same."
"Watchtower," the man in green leather greeted.
"Mission accomplished?" she asked.
He nodded abruptly.
"Then let's go," she said, stepping toward them.
"Dean!" his brother called, already walking across the hall to the next room.
He turned back to look at the intriguing woman as she grabbed her wig and sunglasses from the floor. She stared at him a moment, her mouth lifting with a smile. He smiled back before turning to follow after his brother while she returned to her band of do-gooders.
He and Sam left the building quickly, only slowing as they reached a tall wheat field, leading out toward where he parked the Impala. Sam kept looking at him. Apparently, while he was locked away, Sam ran into the group of superheroes that let him know that whatever he was doing there, he should stop. Since they weren't the average demon, Sam learned it was some big government cover up that they were hacking into and shutting down. He'd been looking for him for nearly three hours. The wheat thinned out to just grass and now there was nothing but silence around them, with his brother looking at him off and on, waiting for some kind of explanation.
"I think I just fell in love," he announced
Sam turned to him, a weird expression on his face. "Yeah? What's her name?"
He grinned. "Watchtower."
He stared at him funny.
Dean shrugged. "You expected to me to fall for someone normal?"
Sam bobbed his head side to side agreeably. "True."
Dean smirked.
"So now what? You've got no name and she's not from here... Looks like your first love already broke your poor, fragile heart," he mocked.
"Yeah right," he muttered. "I'll find her."
"You're actually going to look?"
"No... I just have a gut feeling it ain't over."
"It never really started."
"Shut up." Dean walked off ahead. "Bitch," he called back.
Grinning, Sam caught up to him. "Jerk."
[Next: Part II - We Meet Again]