Fic: But Deliver Us From Evil (5/8)
Fic: But Deliver Us From Evil (5/8)
By: Pen37
Beta: clarksmuse
Rating: PG-13
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters: Chloe, Sam, Dean, Jo
Pairing: Chloe/Dean, Sam/Jo
Disclaimer: Not Mine, Fun only.
Summary: While hunting Kelpie, things go very wrong for Sam, Dean and Chloe.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8
This is part of the Special Projects series. The rest of the fics can be found here.
Written for the Crossovers100 challenge. Prompt #30 Death. The table is here.
Two hours earlier
Sam, Dean and Chloe drove back to the campground overlooking the cold water lake. The sun was dipping lower on the horizon, creating a red ribbon across the mirrored water. Chloe glanced at her watch, and guessed that dark would be setting in by the time that they got back to the drowning site.
She shivered and wondered why they mostly hunted at night.
She heard Dean swear, and glanced at the trunk of the Impala, where he was going through their provisions.
"Try Imeacht gan teacht ort," Chloe said.
“What did you just say?” Dean raised an eyebrow.
“May you leave without returning. It’s something that my Grampy Sullivan used to say,” Chloe grinned. “The Celts invented cursing. So it’s a lot more satisfying to curse in the old tongue. Of course, Grammy Sullivan really let him have it when she found out that he taught me that.”
“Your grandparents must have been something else,” Dean grinned.
“They argued nonstop,” Chloe shrugged. “Of course, they were crazy about each other. Grampy used to say that it was just the Irish in them.”
“Cultural lesson aside,” Sam interrupted, “what’s got you so upset?”
“We’re running low on iron rounds,” Dean said. “There’s enough for two and two thirds clips.”
“So you two take the full clips,” Chloe said.
“You sure?” Dean asked.
“I’m counting on you two finishing that thing off before it gets close to me,” Chloe said.
“You better believe it,” Dean nodded.
One hour earlier
Chloe lifted her arm to wipe the sweat from her forehead. She stopped and looked at her forearm. Multiple, jagged wounds were torn through her flesh from elbow to wrist. The Kelpie’s teeth did that, no doubt.
She didn’t know where Sam and Dean were. The thing came at her from out of the water. It looked like some kind of bizarre fish-man mutant, with thick hide, bulbous eyes and a jaw that unhinged to reveal row after row of serrated, shark-like teeth.
Shark-like was a good description, now that she thought of it. No wonder people thought that a big fish was doing this.
She’d nearly emptied the entire clip, and that still hadn’t slowed it down. It tackled her, and she’d raised her gun arm for another shot without thinking. It responded by trying to chew her arm off below the elbow.
Given the way it attacked, she was lucky that she could work her muscles well enough to pull the trigger.
It screamed, and then fell over next to her; the teeth still tearing on her arm in its death throes. Finally, she resorted to reaching her other hand around its upper jaw to pry it open and pull herself free. The razor-sharp teeth sliced deeply into her left palm, but she ignored the sting as unimportant comparatively. She needed to get that right arm looked at. Stop the bleeding. Let it heal. But first she had to find Dean and Sam.
She staggered to her feet, pulled the gun from her stiffening right hand, and holstered it awkwardly with her left.
“Dean?” She called out as she stumbled back up the beach to where the two of them were supposed to be hiding. “Sam?”
“Over here,” Dean’s voice sounded hoarse.
She pushed her way into the brush, preparing herself for the worse. As she came within sight of the boys, she was momentarily thankful that things didn’t appear as badly as she’d thought. Dean was leaned against a tree, gripping his side. She looked at him in concern, but he waved her away.
Sam immediately drew her attention and held it. He was lying on the ground with a bleeding head wound. Not good, Chloe knew. There were so many tiny capillaries in the head that any kind of head wound could make a person bleed to death in a very short period of time.
“What happened?” She asked, more to distract Dean from the near-panic she saw in his face.
“I should ask you the same question,” Dean said. His eyes barely skated over her before returning to Sam. “You look like hell.”
“It looked like a man-shark,” she shrugged. “Attacked like a shark, too. Tried to disable me with a lightning strike. I shot down its throat, and it got real still at that point.”
“Should I even ask?”
“Shark week on the Discovery Channel.”
“We spend way too much time watching TV,” Dean winced as he stood.
“I’ll tell you what,” Chloe said as she knelt next to Sam. “Once all three of us make it out of this, I’ll let you guys take me to a real theater to see a real movie.”
“Very generous,” Dean pulled off his shirt and threw it to her. “Try and stop the bleeding with that. We’ve got to carry him out of here, and get medical help as quick as we can.”
“How? You’re barely walking, and I’m not an Olympic-caliber lifter.” She didn’t want to bring up Sam’s vision from earlier. She looked at him, and saw his jaw set in a firm line of determination.
“You get his feet; I’ll get under his arms.”
“Dean --”
“Do it!” he barked out. Between his tone and the determined set of his face, Chloe knew that there was no arguing with him. When Sam’s life was on the line, Dean would push himself and her until they dropped. And, she realized, she was absolutely going to follow him in this.
They didn’t dare to stop, though Chloe felt light-headed. Her arm was starting to throb in earnest, which scared her more than a little. She hadn’t felt pain that intensely since manifesting her powers. Finally, just when she thought that she would fall over, they came in sight of the car. With relief, she pushed through the pain and made it the short distance back.
Once they had Sam secure in the backseat, Dean fished his keys from his pocket and tossed them to her.
“Here,” he said. “You’ve got to drive.”
“Dean?” She looked at him in confusion and fear.
“I’m in no shape, Chloe. You’ve got to get help.”
She shut her eyes, and shook her head. “I’ve never driven the Impala.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” his voice was fading. She eased up under his arm and helped him into the passenger seat.
“Okay, but you’ve got to keep talking to me.” Chloe was struck by the sudden fear of what would happen to him if Dean fell asleep.
“It’ll be fine,” Dean muttered as she strapped him in. “My girls can work together.”
“So I’m your girl now?” she didn’t feel much like teasing, but anything to keep him talking.
“Closest I’ve ever had,” he said.
She climbed in behind the wheel, and started the car. “You’re supposed to ask someone if they want to be your girl,” she argued.
“I would, if I thought you’d say yes,” he whispered out.
“Ask me then.” She swiped stinging tears from her eyes as she floored the Impala.
“Chloe --”
“Ask me when you’re better.”
“You always gotta’ argue with me, don’t you?”
“I guess it’s the Irish in me,” she said quietly as she focused on coaxing maximum speed from the car, without wrecking it.
“Just like your Grammy and Grampy.”
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Just like them.”
When Dean didn’t say anything, she glanced over at him. He was staring thoughtfully back at her. She didn’t care at that moment that he wasn’t talking, as long as those hazel eyes were open. “Come on girl,” Chloe whispered to the car. “I need your help. Please.” She was talking to the Impala, unaware that she was actually praying.
By: Pen37
Beta: clarksmuse
Rating: PG-13
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters: Chloe, Sam, Dean, Jo
Pairing: Chloe/Dean, Sam/Jo
Disclaimer: Not Mine, Fun only.
Summary: While hunting Kelpie, things go very wrong for Sam, Dean and Chloe.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8
This is part of the Special Projects series. The rest of the fics can be found here.
Written for the Crossovers100 challenge. Prompt #30 Death. The table is here.
Two hours earlier
Sam, Dean and Chloe drove back to the campground overlooking the cold water lake. The sun was dipping lower on the horizon, creating a red ribbon across the mirrored water. Chloe glanced at her watch, and guessed that dark would be setting in by the time that they got back to the drowning site.
She shivered and wondered why they mostly hunted at night.
She heard Dean swear, and glanced at the trunk of the Impala, where he was going through their provisions.
"Try Imeacht gan teacht ort," Chloe said.
“What did you just say?” Dean raised an eyebrow.
“May you leave without returning. It’s something that my Grampy Sullivan used to say,” Chloe grinned. “The Celts invented cursing. So it’s a lot more satisfying to curse in the old tongue. Of course, Grammy Sullivan really let him have it when she found out that he taught me that.”
“Your grandparents must have been something else,” Dean grinned.
“They argued nonstop,” Chloe shrugged. “Of course, they were crazy about each other. Grampy used to say that it was just the Irish in them.”
“Cultural lesson aside,” Sam interrupted, “what’s got you so upset?”
“We’re running low on iron rounds,” Dean said. “There’s enough for two and two thirds clips.”
“So you two take the full clips,” Chloe said.
“You sure?” Dean asked.
“I’m counting on you two finishing that thing off before it gets close to me,” Chloe said.
“You better believe it,” Dean nodded.
One hour earlier
Chloe lifted her arm to wipe the sweat from her forehead. She stopped and looked at her forearm. Multiple, jagged wounds were torn through her flesh from elbow to wrist. The Kelpie’s teeth did that, no doubt.
She didn’t know where Sam and Dean were. The thing came at her from out of the water. It looked like some kind of bizarre fish-man mutant, with thick hide, bulbous eyes and a jaw that unhinged to reveal row after row of serrated, shark-like teeth.
Shark-like was a good description, now that she thought of it. No wonder people thought that a big fish was doing this.
She’d nearly emptied the entire clip, and that still hadn’t slowed it down. It tackled her, and she’d raised her gun arm for another shot without thinking. It responded by trying to chew her arm off below the elbow.
Given the way it attacked, she was lucky that she could work her muscles well enough to pull the trigger.
It screamed, and then fell over next to her; the teeth still tearing on her arm in its death throes. Finally, she resorted to reaching her other hand around its upper jaw to pry it open and pull herself free. The razor-sharp teeth sliced deeply into her left palm, but she ignored the sting as unimportant comparatively. She needed to get that right arm looked at. Stop the bleeding. Let it heal. But first she had to find Dean and Sam.
She staggered to her feet, pulled the gun from her stiffening right hand, and holstered it awkwardly with her left.
“Dean?” She called out as she stumbled back up the beach to where the two of them were supposed to be hiding. “Sam?”
“Over here,” Dean’s voice sounded hoarse.
She pushed her way into the brush, preparing herself for the worse. As she came within sight of the boys, she was momentarily thankful that things didn’t appear as badly as she’d thought. Dean was leaned against a tree, gripping his side. She looked at him in concern, but he waved her away.
Sam immediately drew her attention and held it. He was lying on the ground with a bleeding head wound. Not good, Chloe knew. There were so many tiny capillaries in the head that any kind of head wound could make a person bleed to death in a very short period of time.
“What happened?” She asked, more to distract Dean from the near-panic she saw in his face.
“I should ask you the same question,” Dean said. His eyes barely skated over her before returning to Sam. “You look like hell.”
“It looked like a man-shark,” she shrugged. “Attacked like a shark, too. Tried to disable me with a lightning strike. I shot down its throat, and it got real still at that point.”
“Should I even ask?”
“Shark week on the Discovery Channel.”
“We spend way too much time watching TV,” Dean winced as he stood.
“I’ll tell you what,” Chloe said as she knelt next to Sam. “Once all three of us make it out of this, I’ll let you guys take me to a real theater to see a real movie.”
“Very generous,” Dean pulled off his shirt and threw it to her. “Try and stop the bleeding with that. We’ve got to carry him out of here, and get medical help as quick as we can.”
“How? You’re barely walking, and I’m not an Olympic-caliber lifter.” She didn’t want to bring up Sam’s vision from earlier. She looked at him, and saw his jaw set in a firm line of determination.
“You get his feet; I’ll get under his arms.”
“Dean --”
“Do it!” he barked out. Between his tone and the determined set of his face, Chloe knew that there was no arguing with him. When Sam’s life was on the line, Dean would push himself and her until they dropped. And, she realized, she was absolutely going to follow him in this.
They didn’t dare to stop, though Chloe felt light-headed. Her arm was starting to throb in earnest, which scared her more than a little. She hadn’t felt pain that intensely since manifesting her powers. Finally, just when she thought that she would fall over, they came in sight of the car. With relief, she pushed through the pain and made it the short distance back.
Once they had Sam secure in the backseat, Dean fished his keys from his pocket and tossed them to her.
“Here,” he said. “You’ve got to drive.”
“Dean?” She looked at him in confusion and fear.
“I’m in no shape, Chloe. You’ve got to get help.”
She shut her eyes, and shook her head. “I’ve never driven the Impala.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” his voice was fading. She eased up under his arm and helped him into the passenger seat.
“Okay, but you’ve got to keep talking to me.” Chloe was struck by the sudden fear of what would happen to him if Dean fell asleep.
“It’ll be fine,” Dean muttered as she strapped him in. “My girls can work together.”
“So I’m your girl now?” she didn’t feel much like teasing, but anything to keep him talking.
“Closest I’ve ever had,” he said.
She climbed in behind the wheel, and started the car. “You’re supposed to ask someone if they want to be your girl,” she argued.
“I would, if I thought you’d say yes,” he whispered out.
“Ask me then.” She swiped stinging tears from her eyes as she floored the Impala.
“Chloe --”
“Ask me when you’re better.”
“You always gotta’ argue with me, don’t you?”
“I guess it’s the Irish in me,” she said quietly as she focused on coaxing maximum speed from the car, without wrecking it.
“Just like your Grammy and Grampy.”
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Just like them.”
When Dean didn’t say anything, she glanced over at him. He was staring thoughtfully back at her. She didn’t care at that moment that he wasn’t talking, as long as those hazel eyes were open. “Come on girl,” Chloe whispered to the car. “I need your help. Please.” She was talking to the Impala, unaware that she was actually praying.