Two Guys, a Girl and a Chevy Impala: Fic 15: Good Enough (2/?)
Series: Two Guys, a Girl and a Chevy Impala
Fic #15: Good Enough (2/?)
Rated: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not ours. Don't sue. Thanks.
Fandom: Supernatural/Smallville.
Pairing: Chloe/Dean, Sam/Sarah.
Jo wiped down the bar, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as her thoughts led her far from where she was currently working. She didn't pay any attention when the door to the Roadhouse opened.
The first thing Dean honed in on when he waltzed through the door was Jo. The rest of the bar was pretty empty, which was a little unusual. He smirked when she looked up, irritation and surprise in her eyes. "I your first customer?"
She tensed a little, though annoyed at the shiver of delight that ran through her at the sight of him. "Of the day."
"Good," he replied casually, sitting at the corner barstool. "Gimme a beer, then we can talk about the Colt." The smirk deepened as he watched the emotions splay across her face and laced his fingers together, resting them on the bar.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said flatly, slamming a beer down in front of him.
He took a long dreg before answering. "The hell you don't, Jo. You've had it awhile, haven't you? Thought we'd never find you?"
She raised an eyebrow and she leaned her elbows on the countertop, gazing at him intently.
He was slightly disturbed by the way she was gazing at him, stars in her eyes, as if she was trying to throw him off her scent. He leaned closer to her. "Come on, Jo. Who gave it to ya?"
"Maybe I found it," she responded.
He chuckled, taking another swallow from his beer. "We both know you'd have never found it on your own. No, the Yellow-Eyed Demon had it." He cast her a curious perusal. "Question is, why did he give it to you?"
Jo glared at him. "I'm smarter than you think, Winchester."
He snorted. "Really? Could've fooled me." He stood up and leaned across the bar. "I need that gun, dammit. Hand it over."
She snorted derisively. "You think you're the only one in need of a gun that can kill anything? Think again." Her eyes were cold.
His eyes narrowed in irritation. He wanted to leap across the counter and strangle the answer out of her. Something stopped him, though: John's voice. As much as he truly didn't like this young blonde, it was his father's voice, telling him why fighting with girls was never a good idea, that kept him still. "What the hell do you need the Colt for?" he asked cautiously, looking for some hint of weakness in her eyes.
"That's none of your business anymore," she said harshly.
He grabbed her hand when she tried to turn and leave. "Actually, it's more my business than you know," he whispered, "especially since I know you were the one who told Gordon about Sam."
She froze, and slowly turned to face him, stunned by the accusation. "What the hell are you talking about?"
He let her go, amused by her glare. "Funny thing I found while searching for that damn gun. You and Gordon kept in pretty close contact up until he died, didn't you?"
Looking at him in bewilderment, she shook her head. "Gordon's dead?"
"Yes, he's dead," he retorted, paling a little. She was either the greatest actress in the world, or she really had no idea what was going on.
Blinking with shock, she leaned back against the wall, her own face pale.
He swallowed hard and took a step back from her. "You know what he was doing, right?" he demanded softly, curious as to her response.
"Hunting demons like the rest of us?" Tears pooled in her eyes involuntarily and she quickly blinked them back.
He shook his head carefully. "Hunting us, Jo," he replied evenly. "Working for a man who's almost as evil as the Demon. Nearly got us all killed for his effort before I put a bullet in his brain."
Shock registered on her face, which grew even paler at his words. "What?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
He sighed and stood up. "Gordon evil. Us almost dead. Gordon dead. Can I make it any plainer?"
She didn't respond, looking more than a little dazed as she tried to comprehend what he was telling her. "Why would he...be hunting you?"
"What, don't you know?" he whipped out quickly. "You're a better actress than I gave you credit for." He slapped his hand on the bar counter. "Now give me the Colt."
"Because of Sam," she whispered as the truth dawned on her. "Oh God."
He shot close to her face, eyes burning with anger. "What do you know about him?" he growled.
She flinched. "Only what the two of you told my mother and I!"
"You're lying. I know you told Gordon about Sam, and I know you've got the Colt hidden away somewhere."
"I'm not lying, Dean! I have the Colt but I didn't tell Gordon anything!"
"And how the hell did you get the Colt?!" He balled his fists, itching to punch the wall.
Her back pressed against the wall, she swallowed hard, frightened of him at the moment. "I stole it from him before he left town!"
"And what was he doing here?" he said slowly.
"Looking for you," she said harshly.
He smacked his hand down on the counter top. "And you wanna know why he went looking for us? What he helped do to Chloe? How he tried to get to Sam?!"
"And I suppose that's my fault?" An angry tear trickled down her cheek. "I didn't know where the hell you were, how could I possibly tell him anything?"
"I don't know, Jo. Why don't you explain that to me?" He grabbed her arm when she tried to talk away.
"Why would I want Gordon to go after you or Sam?" she demanded, trying to pull away from him.
Dean smirked but kept her in place. "God, I tell ya, between you and Chloe, it's a wonder I'm still sane." He pushed her away abruptly and moved around the counter, searching for the Colt.
"It's not here," she said tensely.
"Then where the fuck is it?!" He was beginning to lose his patience.
"There a problem out here, Jo?" A large, gruff looking man stepped around the bar, glaring at Dean.
"No, no problem. Go away, Dean," she said, folding her arms across her chest.
"No, Jo." Dean glanced at the large, beefy-looking bouncer and smirked. "Not until I get what I've come here for."
The man's eyes narrowed, taking the remark the wrong way. Without hesitation he drew back his fist and punched Dean hard in the face. "Stay the fuck away from her," he warned, glaring down at where he lay sprawled out on the floor.
Grimacing and holding his nose, Dean looked up at the man towering over him, glaring. "You need to keep your nose out of this," he growled, getting to his feet quickly... only to be sent sprawling onto the floor by another flying punch to the gut.
"Stop it, Eddie!" Jo grabbed his arm, her eyes full of alarm. "He wasn't trying to hurt me!"
"Great," he muttered, struggling to his feet, his stomach twisted in knots from the pain. "Now will you give me the damn gun? You're about as fun as a plane ride in a storm."
Her eyes flashing with hurt she avoided his gaze. "I told you it's not here."
"Then where is it?" He glanced at Eddie, whose fists were clenched in giant balls, waiting to pop him again. "Jo, don't make me ask again..."
"Or what?" she demanded, another tear trickling down her face. "You'll hit me?"
The fact that she assumed this burned Dean up, simply because, had she really know him or what was going on, she would have known he'd never do something so stupid. Sighing heavily, he replied, "What, with Thundar the Barbarian standing next to you?" His eyes flashed irritation but he turned to leave.
"Don't come back, Buddy," Eddie warned.
"Sure thing, Bubba," Dean snapped, giving Jo a look that told he would be back for Colt.
Jo swallowed hard before slowing sitting down on a bar stool, her heart pounding in her chest.
Hand hitting the door, Dean nearly beat it down with the force of his anxiety and frustration. He slumped into the driver's side and sat for a moment. "Well, baby," he said, looking at the steering wheel, "guess we've got some plotting to do." He looked down at the keys he'd pulled out of his pocket and started the car, intent on spending the day figuring out where the Colt was... and why Jo Harvelle felt she needed it.
&&&&&
By the time Dean reached their hotel again, he was fuming. He could almost feel the steam shooting out of his ears. Storming to the elevator, he mashed the button, waiting impatiently to get back to Chloe.
When he walked into their room, he found her standing by the window, looking out. He shut the door, saying nothing. Afraid to speak for what might come out of his mouth.
She flinched as the door shut loudly. Swallowing hard, she slowly turned to face him.
The look on her face made him angrier, but he couldn't meet her eyes. "So..."
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"For what?"
She closed her eyes, pained. "For everything I said earlier."
He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. "Okay." He grabbed his flask from his coat and took a deep swallow, his mind mulling over how to break into the roadhouse to get the Colt. He sat heavily on the bed, tired, his mental block falling as he concentrated on his next move.
She hesitated a moment before moving to sit down on the other side of the bed. "So she definitely has it," she murmured.
He stiffened in surprise. "Yeah, she does... the bitch." He muttered under his breath, not moving when she laid a hand on his shoulder. He knocked back another shot, grimacing at the burn sliding down his throat.
"What do you suppose she wants with it?"
Hell if I know, he thought, standing up and moving across the room. "She stole it from Gordon, though."
She flinched at the sound of the name. "Why doesn't that surprise me?" She wrapped her arms around herself.
"Because she took it from him before he left to chase us down in New Mexico," he grumbled, thinking how much better it was now that Gordon Walker was dead. One less person to kill in this coming battle.
His thoughts startled her, her face going pale. "Gordon's dead?" she whispered, stunned.
"Yes, Gordon's dead. I shot him myself, Chloe." His words shot out of his mouth, voice filled with aggravation. "Do you think I'd let him live after what he and Lex did to you?"
She flinched involuntarily. "Dean," she whispered, slowly turning to look at him.
Just don't, Chloe, he thought, silently turning around to gaze at her beautiful face.
Don't what? She shook her head, her eyes burning with tears.
Don't give me the speech about killing Gordon and how it was a bad thing. His eyes narrowed. I would've done anything to make sure you were safe.
I wasn't going to give you any speech!
"Then why did you have the I'm going to give you a speech look?"
Chloe shook her head, stunned by the accusing tone of his voice. "Why didn’t you say anything?"
He threw up his hands. "Honestly, it skipped my mind. I had more important things to take care of. You, for example." He didn't need to take his anger out on her, not when it was directed at Jo. The look on her face was proof he was hurting her. Again.
Swallowing hard, she turned away from him.
A muscle in his cheek twitched violently. "Where's Sam? I need to talk to him." He put the now empty flask on the table and headed for the door.
"I assume he's next door with his wife," she responded distantly.
"Good. Maybe he can help me figure out how to get the Colt back."
"Yeah. Clearly I can't."
His hand stopped on the doorknob. "I'm not going to let you help, Chloe," he whispered quietly, feeling a wave of fear overtake him suddenly.
"Why not?" Her voice was pained.
He turned to look at her. And watch you get kidnapped, hurt, or killed? he shot at her mentally. No way. Even Jo's not safe.
The accusatory tone of his voice in her head caused all the air to leave her lungs.
"I'm sorry, Chlo," he continued, unimpeded, "but there's no way I'm letting you near her. She's got this huge Wookie of a body guard who tried his best to kick me out. I'll kill her before she can get her hands on you."
It took her a moment to realize the bruise that was forming on his face. "Jesus, Dean," she whispered, quickly moving toward him. "Are you all right?"
He didn't look at her. "Fine," he rasped, his grip on the doorknob so tight his knuckled were white.
"Please look at me," she whispered.
His eyes remained bowed. No.
Why not? Tears prickled at her eyes again.
He sighed and closed his eyes. "Because I'm going after the Colt... and I don't want you to come with me." His heart sank as he spoke out loud, wanting nothing more than to take her with him. It was a selfish thought, however, especially since she had nearly died once already.
"And that means you can't even look at me?"
"Yes."
Her heart heavy, she turned away from him again, this time for a different reason. "Then go," she said, her voice bitter.
Dean sighed heavily, feeling her close up and move away from him in more ways than one. "I love you," he whispered, his voice breaking from the whirlwind of emotions moving through him. Without waiting for a response, knowing he wouldn't get one, he yanked the door open and shut it quietly behind him, leaning against the other side for a moment.
He had lost her. He was pretty sure of that fact.
&&&&&
"Are you sure she's got the Colt here, Dean?" Sam whispered from the passenger seat of the Impala, staring out the windshield at the small bar.
"Yes, I'm sure, Sammy," he whispered, watching the lights in the roadhouse go out finally. He looked at his brother. "Wait here. We might need to get outta here fast if she or that gorilla catches me."
"Yeah, all right. Be careful." Feeling uneasy as he watched his brother climb out of the car, Sam slid into the driver's seat.
He smirked and ran towards the Roadhouse, skirting around the back of the small building. He saw an unlocked window and slowly lifted it open, sliding through the small opening, grateful to be so short for once.
He landed quietly on his feet in the back room, which was comprised primarily of never-ending stacks of boxes. He sighed, frustrated. "Where the hell do I start?" he whispered to himself, stilling suddenly when he heard a noise.
"You just don't give up, do you?" Jo glared at him from where she stood in the entrance.
His body relaxed only a fraction, and his gun lowered. "If you knew me at all," he whispered, "then you'd already know the answer to that question."
She looked down for a moment. "I need the Colt, Dean."
"Give me one reason why," he rasped quietly, taking a step towards her, his weapon falling to his side.
"Because I'm in trouble," she admitted.
He snorted. "Not like we are, sister. You're gonna be in a whole lot more trouble if you don't hand it over. Now." He noticed a large figure behind her suddenly and nearly laughed bitterly.
She tensed involuntarily, quickly looking over her shoulder to see Eddie. "It's okay," she told him. "We're just talking. I'm fine, Eddie."
"Yeah, Eddie," Dean repeated, close to pointing his gun at the massive guy in the doorway. He glanced back at Jo. "So are you gonna hand it over, or do I need to take it by force?"
"I already told you it's not here, Dean." Her voice was even.
Pointing the gun directly at her head, he whispered, "Then you better take me to it."
There was hurt in her eyes, disbelief. "Do you really hate me that much?"
"No, Jo, I don't hate you," he replied, his focus totally on her. "I hate the demon. I hate what it's done to my family... what it could do. And nothing's gonna get in my way of keeping them safe." He saw Eddie take a step closer and aimed his gun at him.
"Dean, don't--" Jo said in frightened alarm as Eddie lifted his own gun and fired a shot. "No!"
Though he squeezed the trigger, Dean felt something hit him in the middle of his chest. A hard, biting sting. He collapsed onto the concrete floor, groaning softly as he felt his life hanging in the balance. Much like drowning, he thought blindly.
Chloe had just climbed through the window as the shot was fired. She felt the wound almost as if it were her own. "Dean!"
"C-Chloe?" he asked weakly, trying to move his head towards the sound of her voice. His body felt so heavy, though; his chest grew numb and cold.
She quickly moved to his side, tears flooding her eyes. "Oh God no," she whispered, cradling his head in her lap and pressing her hands to his stomach. She looked up at Jo. "Call 911!"
Frightened out of her wits, Jo simply nodded, wishing Dean had given up his quest to find the Colt, grabbed Eddie, and ran out of the room for the phone.
He couldn't move his head, but his eyes met hers, sparkling with tears, in the moonlight from the window. "Don't... cry," he whispered, his words slurred. "Just a... scratch." He tried to laugh but spit up blood instead.
A tear trickled down her face and splashed onto his skin. "Just hang on, Dean. You're gonna be fine."
He coughed again, trying to move his leaden limbs. Then it hit him: I'm going to die.
"No," she whispered. "Don't think that. You're not going to die!"
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. He vaguely felt a slight pressure on his torso, but he didn’t know what that was from.
"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.
"No! No!" A scream tore from her throat. "Dean! Wake up!"
Jo scrambled back into the room, phone in hand. "Is he okay?" she whispered tentatively, seeing Dean's white face and knowing the answer before Chloe looked up. She dropped the receiver onto the floor, biting back a sob.
Her face pale, Chloe slowly pulled away from him, rising to her feet, not looking at Jo as she headed for the door numbly.
The moment he heard the gunshot in the air, Sam scrambled out of the Impala, running at a breakneck speed to the front door. He stopped suddenly, however, when he saw Chloe standing on the other side, skin white as a sheet. Covered in blood.
"Chloe??" he asked incredulously. "What happened to....?" He stopped up short, prickles of fear shooting up his spine. "Where's Dean?"
She looked up at him silently, her eyes hollow and her face pale as death.
"Dean!" he shouted, pushing past her quickly and into the back room. He found Jo standing there, looking small and frightened, next to someone on the floor. It was Dean, he realized quickly, sinking to his knees. "Dean," he whispered, grabbing his brother and shaking him, tears leaking out of his eyes.
Her breathing was shallow as she walked to the Impala and slid in behind the wheel, starting the car without hesitation before peeling out of the parking lot.
* * *
Chloe made it to the spot she'd noted hours earlier in record time. Slamming on the brakes she hauled herself out of the car, going around to open the trunk and finding a small box there. Closing her eyes tightly, she pulled her license out of her purse an slid it inside, along with the watch she always wore. She moved to the middle of the dirt road, digging with her bare hands and burying the box without hesitation.
"Hello, Chloe," a voice said behind her after a few moments.
She turned slowly, not prepared to see the figure that stood there, her long blonde hair flowing down her back. "Mrs. Winchester?" she whispered, sure she was seeing things.
She smiled serenely despite the stricken look on the young woman's face. "Call me Mary... Chloe," she replied, taking a step closer to her. "I'm not a crossroads demon, if that's what you were thinking. I've blocked it from getting to you."
"Why?" she whispered, shaking her head.
"Because we need to talk about your relationship with Dean." Her quiet words broke the silence of the night.
"I think we need to talk about something more pressing than that considering he just died in my arms." Her voice broke.
"That's just what I'm saying, Chloe," she replied, the sadness in her voice apparent. "Your relationship with him is in question, especially because you need to help him out."
Trying to pull herself together, she forced herself to take a deep breath. "How?"
"By finding the gun that will kill the thing that killed me." Mary took another step closer to the blonde, who looked at her with accusatory eyes. "If you're worthy to be with my son, you can do this."
"I'd be more than happy to track down the Colt, but Dean's already dead!"
"Not when I have the means to turn back the clock."
Chloe stared at her, her heart thudding heavily. "You can do that?" she whispered.
She smiled gently. "Yes, I can," she replied, resting her hand on Chloe's shoulder. "But Chloe, Dean cannot die. Do you understand? You must do anything it takes to prevent this event from happening again... because I can only do this once." She paused, looking down. "My boys are needed here, on earth, not with me yet."
Tears stung her eyes, feeling the weight of the entire world--not just her own--rest upon her shoulders. "I understand," she whispered thickly.
"Get Sam and Sarah to help you," Mary insisted, gripping Chloe's shoulder. "Dean's stubborn, but what's coming is bigger than you can imagine. You have to stay united."
She shuddered involuntarily. "Okay."
Mary took a moment, looking at the young woman who had caught her son's heart, and smiled. "Chloe," she whispered, placing a gentle hand on her cheek, "Dean loves you, and he needs you now. I know you can help him. Trust yourself. Trust your love for him."
A tear trickled down Chloe's cheek as she gazed at the mother of the two men she loved most in her life. "I'll do whatever it takes." There was determination in her voice.
Mary smiled. "You and Sarah... take care of them." With that, she looked into the heavens, muttered a few words, and disappeared into the night.
Fic #15: Good Enough (2/?)
Rated: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not ours. Don't sue. Thanks.
Fandom: Supernatural/Smallville.
Pairing: Chloe/Dean, Sam/Sarah.
Jo wiped down the bar, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as her thoughts led her far from where she was currently working. She didn't pay any attention when the door to the Roadhouse opened.
The first thing Dean honed in on when he waltzed through the door was Jo. The rest of the bar was pretty empty, which was a little unusual. He smirked when she looked up, irritation and surprise in her eyes. "I your first customer?"
She tensed a little, though annoyed at the shiver of delight that ran through her at the sight of him. "Of the day."
"Good," he replied casually, sitting at the corner barstool. "Gimme a beer, then we can talk about the Colt." The smirk deepened as he watched the emotions splay across her face and laced his fingers together, resting them on the bar.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said flatly, slamming a beer down in front of him.
He took a long dreg before answering. "The hell you don't, Jo. You've had it awhile, haven't you? Thought we'd never find you?"
She raised an eyebrow and she leaned her elbows on the countertop, gazing at him intently.
He was slightly disturbed by the way she was gazing at him, stars in her eyes, as if she was trying to throw him off her scent. He leaned closer to her. "Come on, Jo. Who gave it to ya?"
"Maybe I found it," she responded.
He chuckled, taking another swallow from his beer. "We both know you'd have never found it on your own. No, the Yellow-Eyed Demon had it." He cast her a curious perusal. "Question is, why did he give it to you?"
Jo glared at him. "I'm smarter than you think, Winchester."
He snorted. "Really? Could've fooled me." He stood up and leaned across the bar. "I need that gun, dammit. Hand it over."
She snorted derisively. "You think you're the only one in need of a gun that can kill anything? Think again." Her eyes were cold.
His eyes narrowed in irritation. He wanted to leap across the counter and strangle the answer out of her. Something stopped him, though: John's voice. As much as he truly didn't like this young blonde, it was his father's voice, telling him why fighting with girls was never a good idea, that kept him still. "What the hell do you need the Colt for?" he asked cautiously, looking for some hint of weakness in her eyes.
"That's none of your business anymore," she said harshly.
He grabbed her hand when she tried to turn and leave. "Actually, it's more my business than you know," he whispered, "especially since I know you were the one who told Gordon about Sam."
She froze, and slowly turned to face him, stunned by the accusation. "What the hell are you talking about?"
He let her go, amused by her glare. "Funny thing I found while searching for that damn gun. You and Gordon kept in pretty close contact up until he died, didn't you?"
Looking at him in bewilderment, she shook her head. "Gordon's dead?"
"Yes, he's dead," he retorted, paling a little. She was either the greatest actress in the world, or she really had no idea what was going on.
Blinking with shock, she leaned back against the wall, her own face pale.
He swallowed hard and took a step back from her. "You know what he was doing, right?" he demanded softly, curious as to her response.
"Hunting demons like the rest of us?" Tears pooled in her eyes involuntarily and she quickly blinked them back.
He shook his head carefully. "Hunting us, Jo," he replied evenly. "Working for a man who's almost as evil as the Demon. Nearly got us all killed for his effort before I put a bullet in his brain."
Shock registered on her face, which grew even paler at his words. "What?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
He sighed and stood up. "Gordon evil. Us almost dead. Gordon dead. Can I make it any plainer?"
She didn't respond, looking more than a little dazed as she tried to comprehend what he was telling her. "Why would he...be hunting you?"
"What, don't you know?" he whipped out quickly. "You're a better actress than I gave you credit for." He slapped his hand on the bar counter. "Now give me the Colt."
"Because of Sam," she whispered as the truth dawned on her. "Oh God."
He shot close to her face, eyes burning with anger. "What do you know about him?" he growled.
She flinched. "Only what the two of you told my mother and I!"
"You're lying. I know you told Gordon about Sam, and I know you've got the Colt hidden away somewhere."
"I'm not lying, Dean! I have the Colt but I didn't tell Gordon anything!"
"And how the hell did you get the Colt?!" He balled his fists, itching to punch the wall.
Her back pressed against the wall, she swallowed hard, frightened of him at the moment. "I stole it from him before he left town!"
"And what was he doing here?" he said slowly.
"Looking for you," she said harshly.
He smacked his hand down on the counter top. "And you wanna know why he went looking for us? What he helped do to Chloe? How he tried to get to Sam?!"
"And I suppose that's my fault?" An angry tear trickled down her cheek. "I didn't know where the hell you were, how could I possibly tell him anything?"
"I don't know, Jo. Why don't you explain that to me?" He grabbed her arm when she tried to talk away.
"Why would I want Gordon to go after you or Sam?" she demanded, trying to pull away from him.
Dean smirked but kept her in place. "God, I tell ya, between you and Chloe, it's a wonder I'm still sane." He pushed her away abruptly and moved around the counter, searching for the Colt.
"It's not here," she said tensely.
"Then where the fuck is it?!" He was beginning to lose his patience.
"There a problem out here, Jo?" A large, gruff looking man stepped around the bar, glaring at Dean.
"No, no problem. Go away, Dean," she said, folding her arms across her chest.
"No, Jo." Dean glanced at the large, beefy-looking bouncer and smirked. "Not until I get what I've come here for."
The man's eyes narrowed, taking the remark the wrong way. Without hesitation he drew back his fist and punched Dean hard in the face. "Stay the fuck away from her," he warned, glaring down at where he lay sprawled out on the floor.
Grimacing and holding his nose, Dean looked up at the man towering over him, glaring. "You need to keep your nose out of this," he growled, getting to his feet quickly... only to be sent sprawling onto the floor by another flying punch to the gut.
"Stop it, Eddie!" Jo grabbed his arm, her eyes full of alarm. "He wasn't trying to hurt me!"
"Great," he muttered, struggling to his feet, his stomach twisted in knots from the pain. "Now will you give me the damn gun? You're about as fun as a plane ride in a storm."
Her eyes flashing with hurt she avoided his gaze. "I told you it's not here."
"Then where is it?" He glanced at Eddie, whose fists were clenched in giant balls, waiting to pop him again. "Jo, don't make me ask again..."
"Or what?" she demanded, another tear trickling down her face. "You'll hit me?"
The fact that she assumed this burned Dean up, simply because, had she really know him or what was going on, she would have known he'd never do something so stupid. Sighing heavily, he replied, "What, with Thundar the Barbarian standing next to you?" His eyes flashed irritation but he turned to leave.
"Don't come back, Buddy," Eddie warned.
"Sure thing, Bubba," Dean snapped, giving Jo a look that told he would be back for Colt.
Jo swallowed hard before slowing sitting down on a bar stool, her heart pounding in her chest.
Hand hitting the door, Dean nearly beat it down with the force of his anxiety and frustration. He slumped into the driver's side and sat for a moment. "Well, baby," he said, looking at the steering wheel, "guess we've got some plotting to do." He looked down at the keys he'd pulled out of his pocket and started the car, intent on spending the day figuring out where the Colt was... and why Jo Harvelle felt she needed it.
&&&&&
By the time Dean reached their hotel again, he was fuming. He could almost feel the steam shooting out of his ears. Storming to the elevator, he mashed the button, waiting impatiently to get back to Chloe.
When he walked into their room, he found her standing by the window, looking out. He shut the door, saying nothing. Afraid to speak for what might come out of his mouth.
She flinched as the door shut loudly. Swallowing hard, she slowly turned to face him.
The look on her face made him angrier, but he couldn't meet her eyes. "So..."
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"For what?"
She closed her eyes, pained. "For everything I said earlier."
He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. "Okay." He grabbed his flask from his coat and took a deep swallow, his mind mulling over how to break into the roadhouse to get the Colt. He sat heavily on the bed, tired, his mental block falling as he concentrated on his next move.
She hesitated a moment before moving to sit down on the other side of the bed. "So she definitely has it," she murmured.
He stiffened in surprise. "Yeah, she does... the bitch." He muttered under his breath, not moving when she laid a hand on his shoulder. He knocked back another shot, grimacing at the burn sliding down his throat.
"What do you suppose she wants with it?"
Hell if I know, he thought, standing up and moving across the room. "She stole it from Gordon, though."
She flinched at the sound of the name. "Why doesn't that surprise me?" She wrapped her arms around herself.
"Because she took it from him before he left to chase us down in New Mexico," he grumbled, thinking how much better it was now that Gordon Walker was dead. One less person to kill in this coming battle.
His thoughts startled her, her face going pale. "Gordon's dead?" she whispered, stunned.
"Yes, Gordon's dead. I shot him myself, Chloe." His words shot out of his mouth, voice filled with aggravation. "Do you think I'd let him live after what he and Lex did to you?"
She flinched involuntarily. "Dean," she whispered, slowly turning to look at him.
Just don't, Chloe, he thought, silently turning around to gaze at her beautiful face.
Don't what? She shook her head, her eyes burning with tears.
Don't give me the speech about killing Gordon and how it was a bad thing. His eyes narrowed. I would've done anything to make sure you were safe.
I wasn't going to give you any speech!
"Then why did you have the I'm going to give you a speech look?"
Chloe shook her head, stunned by the accusing tone of his voice. "Why didn’t you say anything?"
He threw up his hands. "Honestly, it skipped my mind. I had more important things to take care of. You, for example." He didn't need to take his anger out on her, not when it was directed at Jo. The look on her face was proof he was hurting her. Again.
Swallowing hard, she turned away from him.
A muscle in his cheek twitched violently. "Where's Sam? I need to talk to him." He put the now empty flask on the table and headed for the door.
"I assume he's next door with his wife," she responded distantly.
"Good. Maybe he can help me figure out how to get the Colt back."
"Yeah. Clearly I can't."
His hand stopped on the doorknob. "I'm not going to let you help, Chloe," he whispered quietly, feeling a wave of fear overtake him suddenly.
"Why not?" Her voice was pained.
He turned to look at her. And watch you get kidnapped, hurt, or killed? he shot at her mentally. No way. Even Jo's not safe.
The accusatory tone of his voice in her head caused all the air to leave her lungs.
"I'm sorry, Chlo," he continued, unimpeded, "but there's no way I'm letting you near her. She's got this huge Wookie of a body guard who tried his best to kick me out. I'll kill her before she can get her hands on you."
It took her a moment to realize the bruise that was forming on his face. "Jesus, Dean," she whispered, quickly moving toward him. "Are you all right?"
He didn't look at her. "Fine," he rasped, his grip on the doorknob so tight his knuckled were white.
"Please look at me," she whispered.
His eyes remained bowed. No.
Why not? Tears prickled at her eyes again.
He sighed and closed his eyes. "Because I'm going after the Colt... and I don't want you to come with me." His heart sank as he spoke out loud, wanting nothing more than to take her with him. It was a selfish thought, however, especially since she had nearly died once already.
"And that means you can't even look at me?"
"Yes."
Her heart heavy, she turned away from him again, this time for a different reason. "Then go," she said, her voice bitter.
Dean sighed heavily, feeling her close up and move away from him in more ways than one. "I love you," he whispered, his voice breaking from the whirlwind of emotions moving through him. Without waiting for a response, knowing he wouldn't get one, he yanked the door open and shut it quietly behind him, leaning against the other side for a moment.
He had lost her. He was pretty sure of that fact.
&&&&&
"Are you sure she's got the Colt here, Dean?" Sam whispered from the passenger seat of the Impala, staring out the windshield at the small bar.
"Yes, I'm sure, Sammy," he whispered, watching the lights in the roadhouse go out finally. He looked at his brother. "Wait here. We might need to get outta here fast if she or that gorilla catches me."
"Yeah, all right. Be careful." Feeling uneasy as he watched his brother climb out of the car, Sam slid into the driver's seat.
He smirked and ran towards the Roadhouse, skirting around the back of the small building. He saw an unlocked window and slowly lifted it open, sliding through the small opening, grateful to be so short for once.
He landed quietly on his feet in the back room, which was comprised primarily of never-ending stacks of boxes. He sighed, frustrated. "Where the hell do I start?" he whispered to himself, stilling suddenly when he heard a noise.
"You just don't give up, do you?" Jo glared at him from where she stood in the entrance.
His body relaxed only a fraction, and his gun lowered. "If you knew me at all," he whispered, "then you'd already know the answer to that question."
She looked down for a moment. "I need the Colt, Dean."
"Give me one reason why," he rasped quietly, taking a step towards her, his weapon falling to his side.
"Because I'm in trouble," she admitted.
He snorted. "Not like we are, sister. You're gonna be in a whole lot more trouble if you don't hand it over. Now." He noticed a large figure behind her suddenly and nearly laughed bitterly.
She tensed involuntarily, quickly looking over her shoulder to see Eddie. "It's okay," she told him. "We're just talking. I'm fine, Eddie."
"Yeah, Eddie," Dean repeated, close to pointing his gun at the massive guy in the doorway. He glanced back at Jo. "So are you gonna hand it over, or do I need to take it by force?"
"I already told you it's not here, Dean." Her voice was even.
Pointing the gun directly at her head, he whispered, "Then you better take me to it."
There was hurt in her eyes, disbelief. "Do you really hate me that much?"
"No, Jo, I don't hate you," he replied, his focus totally on her. "I hate the demon. I hate what it's done to my family... what it could do. And nothing's gonna get in my way of keeping them safe." He saw Eddie take a step closer and aimed his gun at him.
"Dean, don't--" Jo said in frightened alarm as Eddie lifted his own gun and fired a shot. "No!"
Though he squeezed the trigger, Dean felt something hit him in the middle of his chest. A hard, biting sting. He collapsed onto the concrete floor, groaning softly as he felt his life hanging in the balance. Much like drowning, he thought blindly.
Chloe had just climbed through the window as the shot was fired. She felt the wound almost as if it were her own. "Dean!"
"C-Chloe?" he asked weakly, trying to move his head towards the sound of her voice. His body felt so heavy, though; his chest grew numb and cold.
She quickly moved to his side, tears flooding her eyes. "Oh God no," she whispered, cradling his head in her lap and pressing her hands to his stomach. She looked up at Jo. "Call 911!"
Frightened out of her wits, Jo simply nodded, wishing Dean had given up his quest to find the Colt, grabbed Eddie, and ran out of the room for the phone.
He couldn't move his head, but his eyes met hers, sparkling with tears, in the moonlight from the window. "Don't... cry," he whispered, his words slurred. "Just a... scratch." He tried to laugh but spit up blood instead.
A tear trickled down her face and splashed onto his skin. "Just hang on, Dean. You're gonna be fine."
He coughed again, trying to move his leaden limbs. Then it hit him: I'm going to die.
"No," she whispered. "Don't think that. You're not going to die!"
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. He vaguely felt a slight pressure on his torso, but he didn’t know what that was from.
"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.
"No! No!" A scream tore from her throat. "Dean! Wake up!"
Jo scrambled back into the room, phone in hand. "Is he okay?" she whispered tentatively, seeing Dean's white face and knowing the answer before Chloe looked up. She dropped the receiver onto the floor, biting back a sob.
Her face pale, Chloe slowly pulled away from him, rising to her feet, not looking at Jo as she headed for the door numbly.
The moment he heard the gunshot in the air, Sam scrambled out of the Impala, running at a breakneck speed to the front door. He stopped suddenly, however, when he saw Chloe standing on the other side, skin white as a sheet. Covered in blood.
"Chloe??" he asked incredulously. "What happened to....?" He stopped up short, prickles of fear shooting up his spine. "Where's Dean?"
She looked up at him silently, her eyes hollow and her face pale as death.
"Dean!" he shouted, pushing past her quickly and into the back room. He found Jo standing there, looking small and frightened, next to someone on the floor. It was Dean, he realized quickly, sinking to his knees. "Dean," he whispered, grabbing his brother and shaking him, tears leaking out of his eyes.
Her breathing was shallow as she walked to the Impala and slid in behind the wheel, starting the car without hesitation before peeling out of the parking lot.
* * *
Chloe made it to the spot she'd noted hours earlier in record time. Slamming on the brakes she hauled herself out of the car, going around to open the trunk and finding a small box there. Closing her eyes tightly, she pulled her license out of her purse an slid it inside, along with the watch she always wore. She moved to the middle of the dirt road, digging with her bare hands and burying the box without hesitation.
"Hello, Chloe," a voice said behind her after a few moments.
She turned slowly, not prepared to see the figure that stood there, her long blonde hair flowing down her back. "Mrs. Winchester?" she whispered, sure she was seeing things.
She smiled serenely despite the stricken look on the young woman's face. "Call me Mary... Chloe," she replied, taking a step closer to her. "I'm not a crossroads demon, if that's what you were thinking. I've blocked it from getting to you."
"Why?" she whispered, shaking her head.
"Because we need to talk about your relationship with Dean." Her quiet words broke the silence of the night.
"I think we need to talk about something more pressing than that considering he just died in my arms." Her voice broke.
"That's just what I'm saying, Chloe," she replied, the sadness in her voice apparent. "Your relationship with him is in question, especially because you need to help him out."
Trying to pull herself together, she forced herself to take a deep breath. "How?"
"By finding the gun that will kill the thing that killed me." Mary took another step closer to the blonde, who looked at her with accusatory eyes. "If you're worthy to be with my son, you can do this."
"I'd be more than happy to track down the Colt, but Dean's already dead!"
"Not when I have the means to turn back the clock."
Chloe stared at her, her heart thudding heavily. "You can do that?" she whispered.
She smiled gently. "Yes, I can," she replied, resting her hand on Chloe's shoulder. "But Chloe, Dean cannot die. Do you understand? You must do anything it takes to prevent this event from happening again... because I can only do this once." She paused, looking down. "My boys are needed here, on earth, not with me yet."
Tears stung her eyes, feeling the weight of the entire world--not just her own--rest upon her shoulders. "I understand," she whispered thickly.
"Get Sam and Sarah to help you," Mary insisted, gripping Chloe's shoulder. "Dean's stubborn, but what's coming is bigger than you can imagine. You have to stay united."
She shuddered involuntarily. "Okay."
Mary took a moment, looking at the young woman who had caught her son's heart, and smiled. "Chloe," she whispered, placing a gentle hand on her cheek, "Dean loves you, and he needs you now. I know you can help him. Trust yourself. Trust your love for him."
A tear trickled down Chloe's cheek as she gazed at the mother of the two men she loved most in her life. "I'll do whatever it takes." There was determination in her voice.
Mary smiled. "You and Sarah... take care of them." With that, she looked into the heavens, muttered a few words, and disappeared into the night.