Two Guys, a Girl and a Chevy Impala: Fic 15: Good Enough (1/?)
Series: Two Guys, a Girl and a Chevy Impala
Fic #15: Good Enough (1/?)
Rated: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not ours. Don't sue. Thanks.
Fandom: Supernatural/Smallville.
Pairing: Chloe/Dean, Sam/Sarah.
He could feel his life force leaving his body, the blood flowing out faster than Chloe could stop it. He tried licking his lips, shifting slowly and uncomfortably in her arms. "Stop," he grunted softly, his arm too heavy to touch her.
"No," she said fiercely, pressing her hands firmly against the wound in his chest.
"Chloe...." The words came out in a wistful sigh as he closed his eyes, feeling the burn of the gunshot wound fade away. Numbness... his body felt light with death.
He wanted to struggle against it, wanted to stay with her. But the darkness overcame him. He silently said I love you before giving up to the after-life.
&&&&&
Twelve hours earlier...
Sunlight streaked through the windows, waking him from the soundest sleep he'd had in several weeks. Snuggled against him lay Chloe, her eyes closed, lost in her slumber. Groggily, he smiled, turning and placing a gentle kiss upon her lips.
A soft sigh escaped her at the light kiss and in her sleep she shifted closer to him.
He smirked, trailing kisses down her cheek to the back of her throat, softly, slowly. Savoring the moment, because it seemed like they might never have this again.
She shivered as the soft kisses woke her from her slumber, a smile spreading across her face as she kept her eyes closed. "Morning," she whispered.
"Morning," he growled softly in her ear, nibbling on her lobe lightly. His arms wrapped around her body, drawing him back to her. His fingers circled patterns around her skin, through the smooth valley between her breasts. "I like you naked in the morning."
"Just in the morning?" she asked in a teasing voice.
He tweaked a nipple and grinned. "Tease," he grunted, turning her around to face him, kissing her lips, hot and demanding.
Chloe groaned, kissing him back urgently, her hands sliding down his bare chest.
He chuckled against her lips, feeling her shiver with anticipation when she slid across his lower body, his hard length bouncing against her thigh. "A little early morning nookie?" he whispered, hands massaging her breasts, his mouth traveling down her neck.
"We could stay here all day and that'd be fine with me," she whispered back, biting her lower lip as his hardness pressed into her.
Grabbing her leg, he draped it across his hip and stroked her inner thigh. "What, you didn't wanna be my good luck charm at the poker table?" he retorted, slipping a finger into her, listening to her moan with a wide grin on her face.
"I'd rather be your good luck charm right here," she whispered, shifting her hips closer to his hand.
Leaning into her, Dean licked and sucked on the tender spot on her neck, his body hardening with intense need as she gently rode his finger. Listening to her breath hitch in her throat.
"Please," she murmured, her nails raking lightly down his shoulder blade.
He smirked, sliding another finger into her, moving his hand slowly as her muscles clutched at them impatiently. She just felt so good, he thought, rolling her on top of him.
Chloe bit down hard on her lip, riding his hand slowly, her eyes shutting as her breathing hitched in her throat again.
He looked up at her, watching the varying stages of pleasure cross her face. He reluctantly pulled out of her, shifting so his thick manhood slipped easily into her. He saw her eyes shoot wide open and smirked. "What, I'm impatient," he replied in a low growl.
She groaned in response, sinking down onto his length and resting her hands against his chest. She didn't hesitate before she began to rock against him quickly.
Dean moved with her, their breathing heavy and in sync with each other. She came first, riding him hard, never giving him a chance to adjust. His thrusts into her were jerky, ragged. He grasped her hips, trying to hold her still as she shook all around him, her nails dragging down his chest.
Chloe cried out his name as he thrust up into her one last time, hard, both of their bodies shuddering from the activity as she slowly collapsed against him, her hair drenched with sweat.
"God," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her, his breath heavy against her damp skin. "That's what I call a good morning." He licked a bead of sweat off her skin and smiled placidly.
She shivered at the feel of his tongue against her shoulder, pressing her lips against his collarbone. "We should wake up like this every morning.'
"Yeah, it'll be your turn tomorrow." He looked into her sated eyes and smiled. "I love you, Chloe Sullivan."
She smiled back at him, placing a kiss against his lips. "I love you, too," she whispered back.
He grinned, rolling her onto her back, his body hard with need for her again. His stomach interrupted him, however, and he grimaced. "I'm starving. Wanna get room service? Might as well, since Sam and I splurged for this swanky hotel and all."
She smirked up at him. "Room service works for me."
Kissing her neck, he fumbled for the phone. "Good, you call," he muttered against her neck, grinding into her one last time before rolling off. "Make sure to order the steak with the scrambled eggs." He kissed her finger, the one that wore his protection ring, and got out of bed.
"Where are you going?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, propping herself up on one elbow.
He turned and grinned at her. "For some money, of course. Unless you've got other ideas in mind?" He laughed when she frowned playfully at him.
"I don't think I'm the only one with other ideas," she responded with a smirk as her gaze trailed down his body.
His entire being burned with the knowledge that he knew exactly what she was thinking. Especially since she had dropped her mind wall, letting him in. His smile grew cocky and he stood there, arms slung by his side. Posing for her. Trying to keep her mind occupied so he could look for the number to the roadhouse just outside Atlantic City.
"There's a roadhouse near here?" she asked, the smile fading from her face.
Shit, he thought, blocking his thoughts from her immediately and turning his back to her, grabbing the phone book and his wallet. "Uh, yeah. Sam wanted me to... check something out while we were here. At the casino." He shrugged it off as nothing.
"I thought we were on vacation." Her body grew tense the second he blocked her from his mind. Instinctively, she blocked him from hers once more, as well.
"We are on vacation. I just have to check something out, okay? It's not like I'm hunting." He turned and looked at her intently.
Chloe stared back at him, wondering why it bothered her so much. "Yeah. Okay." She shrugged a little, climbing out of bed and slipping her robe on before picking up the phone, her back to him.
Dean sighed inwardly and sat heavily down on the bed, not bothering to get dressed, though he figured Chloe wouldn't let him touch her again. He listened to her order their breakfast while his eyes scanned the yellow pages. He just had to find out if she had the Colt, he mused, smirking when he found the number.
She handed him the phone silently when she was done ordering breakfast. "I'm gonna take a quick shower."
He blinked and watched her walk into the bathroom, her irritation remaining in the room as she nearly slammed the door behind her. Sighing, he dialed the number and waited for an answer.
"Roadhouse," said a gruff, male voice.
"Lookin' for Jo Harvelle," Dean replied.
There was a pause. "Who's asking?"
"Just get her on the phone."
A moment later, Jo's voice came over the line. "Who is this?" she demanded.
"Who do you think?" Dean snarked.
She paused. "Dean Winchester." She smirked. "And how exactly did you find me?"
"You think I'm an idiot?" he snorted. "Ellen told me, for starters."
Annoyed, Jo frowned. "So much for anyone keeping their damn mouths shut."
He sighed, frustrated. "Whatever, get over it. Do you have it?"
"Have what?"
"You know damn well what," he growled lowly into the phone, casting a glance at the bathroom door.
"I guess some things never change. You're still a jerk." She hung up the phone.
"Jo--" Dean cried, but all he heard was a dial tone on the other end. He crashed down the phone with a string of curses, grabbing his jeans when he heard a knock on the door. He yanked it open, let the waiter in, and paid him. He was just peeking under the warmers when he heard the bathroom door open.
Chloe, now fully dressed, stared at him, her heart beating quickly in her chest.
"Now, you're way overdressed for what I have in mind," he drawled, crossing his arms and smirking at her. His biceps bulged out, making him look bigger. His jeans suddenly became snug.
"I might be," she said calmly. "But you never know about Jo."
The sensual smirk became irritated. "How'd I know you were listening on the other side?" he snapped, sprawling into a chair and digging into the steak.
"Screw you, Dean," she responded, heading for the door. "You're the one who screamed her name before you slammed down the fucking phone. The people down the hall probably heard you." She yanked the door open.
He scrambled out of his chair, knocking it down and grabbing her before she had the chance to leave. "Just a goddamn minute," he demanded, slamming the door shut and locking it. "If you stop putting two and two together, you won't get five!"
She flinched involuntarily. "You think I don't know you're the one who suggested Atlantic City for our--" She made quotes with her fingers. "Vacation?"
"Hey, have I don't anything remotely connected with hunting since we got here three days ago?!" he demanded, leaning back against the door. "And I didn't know she was here until yesterday." He met her fiery eyes with a smirk.
Her jaw tightened. "Yeah, and I'm sure it's taken all of your restraint to keep from calling her until now," she spat, unlocking the door again.
"Jesus, jealous much?" he complained, not letting her out. "Will you sit down so I can tell you why I called her?!"
Glaring at him, she folded her arms across her chest, her eyes narrowed with barely-contained anger.
He stared back at her intently for a moment, then grabbed her and hauled her against him, pressing an angry, frustrated kiss onto her pursed lips. He gripped her arms, not letting her squirm out of his embrace.
A soft whimper of protest escaped her but she didn't try to pull away, mostly because he made it clear he wasn't going to let her.
His mouth ground against hers, fairly sure he was bruising her lips, though she didn't seem to mind. He pulled back for a moment, looking at her slightly dazed face. "You gonna listen now?" he whispered harshly.
She pulled away from him, wrapping her arms around herself once more as she moved to sit on the bed, her heart thudding heavily in her chest.
Scrubbing his face with a hand, he paced around the room. "Look, I think I've got a lead on the one thing that'll kill that Yellow-Eyed son-of-a-bitch."
Of all the things she thought he might say, that was the last thing she'd been expecting. "You think you've found the Colt?"
"Yes, Chloe. The Colt." He didn't look at her, his face hard, stony. He reached the window, swatting the curtains with an angry hand, then turned to cross the room again. "I've been making a lot of inquiries, ever since you were taken." He snuck a glance at her.
She flinched involuntarily. "And you think Jo has it?"
"Yes." Dean looked intently at her. "Why else would I call that skinny chick?"
She avoided his gaze.
He waited for a response, and when he got none, he resumed his pacing around the room. Her silence felt like a hand squeezing his heart dry. She thinks I'm cheating on her, he thought miserably.
"I don't think that," she whispered, resting her face in her hands for a moment.
He snorted. "Right, and you're not reading me the riot act for calling her."
She rose to her feet, slowly turning to face him. "You're not the only one who's insecure on occasion, Dean."
"And when have I done anything to think I want anyone else, Chloe?" He folded his arms over his chest, irritated.
She opened her mouth to respond and closed it again as she realized it wasn't him that was the problem this time. "You haven't," she answered quietly, before turning and slowly heading for the door.
Dean anticipated her movement, slamming a hand on the door before she could open it. "No," he whispered, "you're not leaving. Jo's business, okay? I sure as hell wouldn't be talking to her if I didn't think she had the Colt."
"I know," she whispered, tears burning against her eyelids.
He ran a hand up her arm, gently squeezing her shoulder. "Then what's with the jealousy act? I really don't get it."
"Knee-jerk reaction, I guess," she whispered.
Dean's heart grew heavy again, and he pulled back. "Oughta beat the hell out of Clark for what he did," he whispered, turning and hitting the wall instead. Angry, confused. Hurt.
She flinched. "Dean--"
He yanked the door open. "I'm hitting the poker tables for awhile," he muttered, ignoring her.
She shut her eyes as he slammed the door shut behind him.
Rather than heading for the elevator to take him to the ground floor, Dean stormed next door to Sam and Sarah's room. His eyes burned with the hurt Chloe had spoken aloud, and for the first time, he wondered if he would ever truly win her trust. He pounded on the door loudly, hoping his brother was awake.
A moment later, Sam appeared, squinting. "Dude. What?"
He flashed an insincere smile. "Oh, did I wake you up?"
He scowled. "Duh."
"Whatever, Sammy. I think I've found a lead on..." Dean leaned in a whispered, "... the Colt."
Instantly the scowl left his face and he stepped outside, shutting the door behind him quietly. "Where?"
"There's a Roadhouse not too far from here. Jo's tending it. And dude, I think she has it." He watched the surprise register on his brother's face.
"How the hell did Jo get the Colt?" he whispered in disbelief, stunned.
Dean shrugged. "I really don't know, but does it matter? If that's in play, I can finally see a way to kill that son of a bitch."
He nodded slowly. "We'll go see her."
"Hang on, Sam," he protested, "I'll go. I need you to... watch out for Chloe for me." He saw the look of annoyance enter Sam's eyes and glared back at him.
"Why? What's wrong with her?"
"Aside from her thinking I'm screwing around on her? Absolutely nothing."
Sam stared at Dean, shocked. "Why would she..." He quickly put the pieces together. "Jo."
Dean lifted a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment. "Yeah... Jo," he repeated sarcastically. "And can't forget Clark, the guy who ruined it for the rest of us."
He winced a little. "Dean, I'm sorry."
Holding up a hand, Dean whispered, "Dude, doesn't matter. I'm just gonna go steal the Colt from Jo and come back." He stopped when he saw a look of concern enter Sam's eye and sighed. "Yes, I know. I was the one who wanted a break..."
He sighed softly and looked at the floor. "We'll keep an eye on her. Tell Jo I said hi."
"Is that before or after I sock her in the face?" he grunted, turning away. "I'm taking the Impala." He pulled out the keys and stalked towards the elevator.
Sam drew in a breath and watched him go, a sinking feeling in his stomach.
Fic #15: Good Enough (1/?)
Rated: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not ours. Don't sue. Thanks.
Fandom: Supernatural/Smallville.
Pairing: Chloe/Dean, Sam/Sarah.
He could feel his life force leaving his body, the blood flowing out faster than Chloe could stop it. He tried licking his lips, shifting slowly and uncomfortably in her arms. "Stop," he grunted softly, his arm too heavy to touch her.
"No," she said fiercely, pressing her hands firmly against the wound in his chest.
"Chloe...." The words came out in a wistful sigh as he closed his eyes, feeling the burn of the gunshot wound fade away. Numbness... his body felt light with death.
He wanted to struggle against it, wanted to stay with her. But the darkness overcame him. He silently said I love you before giving up to the after-life.
&&&&&
Twelve hours earlier...
Sunlight streaked through the windows, waking him from the soundest sleep he'd had in several weeks. Snuggled against him lay Chloe, her eyes closed, lost in her slumber. Groggily, he smiled, turning and placing a gentle kiss upon her lips.
A soft sigh escaped her at the light kiss and in her sleep she shifted closer to him.
He smirked, trailing kisses down her cheek to the back of her throat, softly, slowly. Savoring the moment, because it seemed like they might never have this again.
She shivered as the soft kisses woke her from her slumber, a smile spreading across her face as she kept her eyes closed. "Morning," she whispered.
"Morning," he growled softly in her ear, nibbling on her lobe lightly. His arms wrapped around her body, drawing him back to her. His fingers circled patterns around her skin, through the smooth valley between her breasts. "I like you naked in the morning."
"Just in the morning?" she asked in a teasing voice.
He tweaked a nipple and grinned. "Tease," he grunted, turning her around to face him, kissing her lips, hot and demanding.
Chloe groaned, kissing him back urgently, her hands sliding down his bare chest.
He chuckled against her lips, feeling her shiver with anticipation when she slid across his lower body, his hard length bouncing against her thigh. "A little early morning nookie?" he whispered, hands massaging her breasts, his mouth traveling down her neck.
"We could stay here all day and that'd be fine with me," she whispered back, biting her lower lip as his hardness pressed into her.
Grabbing her leg, he draped it across his hip and stroked her inner thigh. "What, you didn't wanna be my good luck charm at the poker table?" he retorted, slipping a finger into her, listening to her moan with a wide grin on her face.
"I'd rather be your good luck charm right here," she whispered, shifting her hips closer to his hand.
Leaning into her, Dean licked and sucked on the tender spot on her neck, his body hardening with intense need as she gently rode his finger. Listening to her breath hitch in her throat.
"Please," she murmured, her nails raking lightly down his shoulder blade.
He smirked, sliding another finger into her, moving his hand slowly as her muscles clutched at them impatiently. She just felt so good, he thought, rolling her on top of him.
Chloe bit down hard on her lip, riding his hand slowly, her eyes shutting as her breathing hitched in her throat again.
He looked up at her, watching the varying stages of pleasure cross her face. He reluctantly pulled out of her, shifting so his thick manhood slipped easily into her. He saw her eyes shoot wide open and smirked. "What, I'm impatient," he replied in a low growl.
She groaned in response, sinking down onto his length and resting her hands against his chest. She didn't hesitate before she began to rock against him quickly.
Dean moved with her, their breathing heavy and in sync with each other. She came first, riding him hard, never giving him a chance to adjust. His thrusts into her were jerky, ragged. He grasped her hips, trying to hold her still as she shook all around him, her nails dragging down his chest.
Chloe cried out his name as he thrust up into her one last time, hard, both of their bodies shuddering from the activity as she slowly collapsed against him, her hair drenched with sweat.
"God," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her, his breath heavy against her damp skin. "That's what I call a good morning." He licked a bead of sweat off her skin and smiled placidly.
She shivered at the feel of his tongue against her shoulder, pressing her lips against his collarbone. "We should wake up like this every morning.'
"Yeah, it'll be your turn tomorrow." He looked into her sated eyes and smiled. "I love you, Chloe Sullivan."
She smiled back at him, placing a kiss against his lips. "I love you, too," she whispered back.
He grinned, rolling her onto her back, his body hard with need for her again. His stomach interrupted him, however, and he grimaced. "I'm starving. Wanna get room service? Might as well, since Sam and I splurged for this swanky hotel and all."
She smirked up at him. "Room service works for me."
Kissing her neck, he fumbled for the phone. "Good, you call," he muttered against her neck, grinding into her one last time before rolling off. "Make sure to order the steak with the scrambled eggs." He kissed her finger, the one that wore his protection ring, and got out of bed.
"Where are you going?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, propping herself up on one elbow.
He turned and grinned at her. "For some money, of course. Unless you've got other ideas in mind?" He laughed when she frowned playfully at him.
"I don't think I'm the only one with other ideas," she responded with a smirk as her gaze trailed down his body.
His entire being burned with the knowledge that he knew exactly what she was thinking. Especially since she had dropped her mind wall, letting him in. His smile grew cocky and he stood there, arms slung by his side. Posing for her. Trying to keep her mind occupied so he could look for the number to the roadhouse just outside Atlantic City.
"There's a roadhouse near here?" she asked, the smile fading from her face.
Shit, he thought, blocking his thoughts from her immediately and turning his back to her, grabbing the phone book and his wallet. "Uh, yeah. Sam wanted me to... check something out while we were here. At the casino." He shrugged it off as nothing.
"I thought we were on vacation." Her body grew tense the second he blocked her from his mind. Instinctively, she blocked him from hers once more, as well.
"We are on vacation. I just have to check something out, okay? It's not like I'm hunting." He turned and looked at her intently.
Chloe stared back at him, wondering why it bothered her so much. "Yeah. Okay." She shrugged a little, climbing out of bed and slipping her robe on before picking up the phone, her back to him.
Dean sighed inwardly and sat heavily down on the bed, not bothering to get dressed, though he figured Chloe wouldn't let him touch her again. He listened to her order their breakfast while his eyes scanned the yellow pages. He just had to find out if she had the Colt, he mused, smirking when he found the number.
She handed him the phone silently when she was done ordering breakfast. "I'm gonna take a quick shower."
He blinked and watched her walk into the bathroom, her irritation remaining in the room as she nearly slammed the door behind her. Sighing, he dialed the number and waited for an answer.
"Roadhouse," said a gruff, male voice.
"Lookin' for Jo Harvelle," Dean replied.
There was a pause. "Who's asking?"
"Just get her on the phone."
A moment later, Jo's voice came over the line. "Who is this?" she demanded.
"Who do you think?" Dean snarked.
She paused. "Dean Winchester." She smirked. "And how exactly did you find me?"
"You think I'm an idiot?" he snorted. "Ellen told me, for starters."
Annoyed, Jo frowned. "So much for anyone keeping their damn mouths shut."
He sighed, frustrated. "Whatever, get over it. Do you have it?"
"Have what?"
"You know damn well what," he growled lowly into the phone, casting a glance at the bathroom door.
"I guess some things never change. You're still a jerk." She hung up the phone.
"Jo--" Dean cried, but all he heard was a dial tone on the other end. He crashed down the phone with a string of curses, grabbing his jeans when he heard a knock on the door. He yanked it open, let the waiter in, and paid him. He was just peeking under the warmers when he heard the bathroom door open.
Chloe, now fully dressed, stared at him, her heart beating quickly in her chest.
"Now, you're way overdressed for what I have in mind," he drawled, crossing his arms and smirking at her. His biceps bulged out, making him look bigger. His jeans suddenly became snug.
"I might be," she said calmly. "But you never know about Jo."
The sensual smirk became irritated. "How'd I know you were listening on the other side?" he snapped, sprawling into a chair and digging into the steak.
"Screw you, Dean," she responded, heading for the door. "You're the one who screamed her name before you slammed down the fucking phone. The people down the hall probably heard you." She yanked the door open.
He scrambled out of his chair, knocking it down and grabbing her before she had the chance to leave. "Just a goddamn minute," he demanded, slamming the door shut and locking it. "If you stop putting two and two together, you won't get five!"
She flinched involuntarily. "You think I don't know you're the one who suggested Atlantic City for our--" She made quotes with her fingers. "Vacation?"
"Hey, have I don't anything remotely connected with hunting since we got here three days ago?!" he demanded, leaning back against the door. "And I didn't know she was here until yesterday." He met her fiery eyes with a smirk.
Her jaw tightened. "Yeah, and I'm sure it's taken all of your restraint to keep from calling her until now," she spat, unlocking the door again.
"Jesus, jealous much?" he complained, not letting her out. "Will you sit down so I can tell you why I called her?!"
Glaring at him, she folded her arms across her chest, her eyes narrowed with barely-contained anger.
He stared back at her intently for a moment, then grabbed her and hauled her against him, pressing an angry, frustrated kiss onto her pursed lips. He gripped her arms, not letting her squirm out of his embrace.
A soft whimper of protest escaped her but she didn't try to pull away, mostly because he made it clear he wasn't going to let her.
His mouth ground against hers, fairly sure he was bruising her lips, though she didn't seem to mind. He pulled back for a moment, looking at her slightly dazed face. "You gonna listen now?" he whispered harshly.
She pulled away from him, wrapping her arms around herself once more as she moved to sit on the bed, her heart thudding heavily in her chest.
Scrubbing his face with a hand, he paced around the room. "Look, I think I've got a lead on the one thing that'll kill that Yellow-Eyed son-of-a-bitch."
Of all the things she thought he might say, that was the last thing she'd been expecting. "You think you've found the Colt?"
"Yes, Chloe. The Colt." He didn't look at her, his face hard, stony. He reached the window, swatting the curtains with an angry hand, then turned to cross the room again. "I've been making a lot of inquiries, ever since you were taken." He snuck a glance at her.
She flinched involuntarily. "And you think Jo has it?"
"Yes." Dean looked intently at her. "Why else would I call that skinny chick?"
She avoided his gaze.
He waited for a response, and when he got none, he resumed his pacing around the room. Her silence felt like a hand squeezing his heart dry. She thinks I'm cheating on her, he thought miserably.
"I don't think that," she whispered, resting her face in her hands for a moment.
He snorted. "Right, and you're not reading me the riot act for calling her."
She rose to her feet, slowly turning to face him. "You're not the only one who's insecure on occasion, Dean."
"And when have I done anything to think I want anyone else, Chloe?" He folded his arms over his chest, irritated.
She opened her mouth to respond and closed it again as she realized it wasn't him that was the problem this time. "You haven't," she answered quietly, before turning and slowly heading for the door.
Dean anticipated her movement, slamming a hand on the door before she could open it. "No," he whispered, "you're not leaving. Jo's business, okay? I sure as hell wouldn't be talking to her if I didn't think she had the Colt."
"I know," she whispered, tears burning against her eyelids.
He ran a hand up her arm, gently squeezing her shoulder. "Then what's with the jealousy act? I really don't get it."
"Knee-jerk reaction, I guess," she whispered.
Dean's heart grew heavy again, and he pulled back. "Oughta beat the hell out of Clark for what he did," he whispered, turning and hitting the wall instead. Angry, confused. Hurt.
She flinched. "Dean--"
He yanked the door open. "I'm hitting the poker tables for awhile," he muttered, ignoring her.
She shut her eyes as he slammed the door shut behind him.
Rather than heading for the elevator to take him to the ground floor, Dean stormed next door to Sam and Sarah's room. His eyes burned with the hurt Chloe had spoken aloud, and for the first time, he wondered if he would ever truly win her trust. He pounded on the door loudly, hoping his brother was awake.
A moment later, Sam appeared, squinting. "Dude. What?"
He flashed an insincere smile. "Oh, did I wake you up?"
He scowled. "Duh."
"Whatever, Sammy. I think I've found a lead on..." Dean leaned in a whispered, "... the Colt."
Instantly the scowl left his face and he stepped outside, shutting the door behind him quietly. "Where?"
"There's a Roadhouse not too far from here. Jo's tending it. And dude, I think she has it." He watched the surprise register on his brother's face.
"How the hell did Jo get the Colt?" he whispered in disbelief, stunned.
Dean shrugged. "I really don't know, but does it matter? If that's in play, I can finally see a way to kill that son of a bitch."
He nodded slowly. "We'll go see her."
"Hang on, Sam," he protested, "I'll go. I need you to... watch out for Chloe for me." He saw the look of annoyance enter Sam's eyes and glared back at him.
"Why? What's wrong with her?"
"Aside from her thinking I'm screwing around on her? Absolutely nothing."
Sam stared at Dean, shocked. "Why would she..." He quickly put the pieces together. "Jo."
Dean lifted a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment. "Yeah... Jo," he repeated sarcastically. "And can't forget Clark, the guy who ruined it for the rest of us."
He winced a little. "Dean, I'm sorry."
Holding up a hand, Dean whispered, "Dude, doesn't matter. I'm just gonna go steal the Colt from Jo and come back." He stopped when he saw a look of concern enter Sam's eye and sighed. "Yes, I know. I was the one who wanted a break..."
He sighed softly and looked at the floor. "We'll keep an eye on her. Tell Jo I said hi."
"Is that before or after I sock her in the face?" he grunted, turning away. "I'm taking the Impala." He pulled out the keys and stalked towards the elevator.
Sam drew in a breath and watched him go, a sinking feeling in his stomach.