Fic: Headtrip (7/7)
Spoiler warning: I came up for the idea for this fic long before there were spoiler warnings that Supernatural was going to be doing something similar this season. Just in case, though: If you don't want to be spoiled for a future episode, don't read.
Fic: Headtrip (7/7)
Series: Special Projects
Summary: On their way to Metropolis for Christmas, Dean, Sam and Chloe take a detour though Colorado Springs to investigate a series of mysterious deaths, but Dean is still broken, Chloe looks ready to run and Sam is just worried about holding things togeather.
Author: pen37
Beta: Clarksmuse
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters: Chloe, Sam, Dean
Pairing:Chloe/Dean
Rating: Pg-13.
This is a part of the Special Projects series. You can find the rest of the series here.
Written for the Crossovers100 challenge. Prompt #40 Sight. The table is here.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7
Sam wandered aimlessly through the void, searching for the dreampath. He tried to sense his direction, but his mental compass was completely off. At length, he thought that he could detect a lightening in the gloom. He set a course for the lightness. As he got closer, a lamppost loomed out of the nothingness.
When he reached it, he could see that the lamppost had a set of sign pointers hung from them. The ones pointing in opposite directions were labeled This Way and That Way. A third pointer hung so that it pointed strait down. Sam squinted at it, expecting to see the words You Are Here. He was surprised, when instead he read the words Middle of Nowhere.
Sam scratched his head. “Great.” He said.
“You look lost, Sam”
He whirled around, and found himself facing a short brunette in a little black cocktail dress. Recognition slammed through him like a bolt of lightning. She looked exactly like she had the day he summoned her to the crossroads to argue her out of Dean's contract.
Which makes total sense, because it's not really her, he thought. This is the dreaming. If I'm going to dream of the crossroads demon, it makes sense that I'd dream her the way I remembered her. So the Powaqa is probably behind this.
“Surprised to see me?” She quirked an eyebrow as she shifted her weight and held her arms out for his inspection. She strutted up to him, and ran her hands up his chest. “I've got to say, I've thought about you for a while. It's not every day that someone gets the better of me in a deal.”
That was an understatement. When she'd been forced to relinquish the contract on Dean's soul, her own hell hounds had moved through the body she was possessing to rip her right out of it. The last he'd seen of the crossroads demon, she'd been drug screaming into the night. Presumably back to hell to be punished by her demon overlords for failing to bring them Dean's soul.
Sam had been left with a very confused girl on his hands. One who was stranded, with a strange man out in the middle of nowhere. She'd taken one look at him, and fled screaming into the night. He hoped that she made it home okay, but at that point he'd been more concerned with checking on Dean than convincing her that he wasn't a serial rapist.
Sam shook his head at the woman before him. “You're not real.”
“Sugar, I'm as real as you want me to be. This is your dream, after all.”
“No,” he said as he narrowed his eyes. “I think . . . You weren't just sent by the Powaqa. I think you are the Powaqa. And you pulled her out of my head.”
She raised an eyebrow and gave him a considering look. “Your brother was right about you. You are the brains of the operation.”
“Where's my brother?”
“You're the genius. You figure it out, psychic boy.” She grinned at him.
Sam drew himself out of his customary slump, up to his full height. Then he glared at her. “Where. Is. He?”
“Temper, Temper.” She tisked at him. “I'll take good care of Dean. You should be thanking me.”
“How do you figure?” Sam crossed his arms and leaned against the lamppost.
“Oh please,” she said. “Don't you ever get tired of it, Sam? Of him? Save Dean from hell. Save Dean from the Powaqa? Save Dean from himself?”
“I've heard all this before,” Sam waved her off. “The real crossroads demon tried to twist my thoughts against me, too. She was a lot better at it than you are.”
She smiled bitterly at Sam. “You three are pathetic, you know? It was too easy to manipulate you. All I had to do was get Dean, and the two of you all but jumped in line behind him.”
“Who said you had Dean?” Sam smirked at the demon.
“Nice bluff,” she said as she stepped back and crossed her arms. “But it's not going to work.”
“Let me tell you about my brother,” Sam replied. “He sold his soul for me. He was going to go to hell for me. You think anything you have to throw at him is going to phase him after that?
“My brother is a hero. Is he sloppy? No doubt. Needy? Who isn't? Kind of messed up in the head? That's a given with the way we grew up and all we've been through. But I'd bet money on Dean over anyone. Any day. Any time.”
She rolled her eyes at that. “Yeah? Too bad you'll be long gone before that happens.” Suddenly, she lunged for Sam. Her movements were deceptively fast. Sam grabbed for her wrists as her hands closed around his neck.
It felt like white-hot electricity coursed through his body. His legs gave out, and he dropped to his knees.
“So where's Dean now, Sammy?” She grinned sadistically at him. Her mouth was an open slash across her face. Blood red lips stood out in stark contrast to the rows of even, white teeth. Sam thought she looked kind of shark-like. He was reminded of the kelpie that they hunted over the summer. “I don't think he's going to save you,” she singsonged.
Sam's neck twitched with painful muscle spasms. Darkness tried to bleed into the corners of his awareness as his head jerked back and forth with each contraction. His eyes rolled back and he blinked to try and stay conscious.
He thought he saw his brother running for them, reaching under multiple layers of clothing for his favorite knife. But it couldn't be. It was too much like the time that he'd been stabbed by Jake. With Dean rushing forward to grab him as he fell, and hold him close as he died.
But this time, there would be no Dean. Not to catch him when he fell, and not to bring him back. Sam doubted that hell would make the same mistake a third time: The price of a Winchester soul was too high to risk another transaction.
Then, the hands around his neck twitched and slackened. They slid from his neck as Sam fell backwards. A pair of familiar feminine hands closed over his torso, and Sam found himself resting cradled against Chloe.
“I've got you Sam,” she whispered gently. “Take it easy.”
“Dean?” he rasped out.
“Taking care of business,” she said.
Sam blinked, and stared hard at where the Powaqa had been. His eyes came into focus in time to see Dean twist the knife in her back. She flickered as she fell, and then she faded like mist.
“Is she . . .” Chloe trailed off, and stared at the spot where the Powaqa had been.
“Dead,” Sam nodded. “Some folklore states that you will wake up from a dream before you die. But if you die in a dream, then your heart will stop, and you will die in the real world. I'll bet the Powaqa's heart probably stopped in the real world.”
He looked up at Dean. “Took you long enough.”
“Sorry,” Dean smirked down at him. “I was enjoying listening to you sing my praises.”
“Uh-oh,” Sam gave Chloe a rueful look. “There'll be no living with him from now on.”
“Let me tell you about my brother Dean,” Dean parroted Sam. “He's such a big damn hero that Warrior Angel wears Dean Winchester pajamas.”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “You're right,” she said to Sam. “We went and gave him a big head.”
“My brother can walk on water, raise the dead and shit ice cream,” Dean continued.
“Let's just - get out of here.” Sam sighed. He turned around, and spotted the silvery dreampath. He'd been right next to it the whole time. The Powaqa had probably been keeping him from seeing it.
“How?” Chloe asked.
“We follow the dreampath back,” Sam pointed to it. “Then it's just a matter of waking up.”
“I still don't see it.”
“Maybe you have to be on the peyote,” Sam said.
“Dude?” Dean stopped his rant to quirk an eyebrow at Sam. “You took peyote?”
“It was part of the ritual,” Sam said defensively.
“You realize that you're still going to be high when we get back,” Dean said.
“Yeah,” Sam sighed. “You're going to give me hell over this for the rest of our lives, aren't you?”
“Oh totally,” Dean grinned.
“Nice,” Sam scowled.
“And you know why, Sammy?”
“Why?” Sam sighed.
“Because I am an awesome brother.”
“Hurry and wake up, Sam,” Chloe said. “I'm getting tired of awesome Dean.”
***
Dean woke to the sound of Sam giggling like a little bitch.
“Sam?” Mindful of the soreness he felt from sleeping for so long, he rolled onto his side slowly. He could see that Chloe had already gotten up, and was kneeling next to his brother.
She looked at him, and shook her head. “It's no use trying to talk to him, Dean. Right now he's higher than Don King's hairdo.”
Dean snorted at that. “For the record? We're not doing this again.”
“The ritual, the dreamwalking, or hunting a Powaqa?”
“Pick one,” Dean said. “All three sounds good right now.”
“Agreed,” Chloe said.
“Hey Dean?” Sam giggled again.
Dean sighed. “Yeah?” he asked. His voice was modulated as if he were talking to a particularly precocious six-year-old.
“Have you ever looked at your hand?”
Dean frowned at Chloe, as if this were here fault. She held her hands up, palms outward, and shook her head. He climbed to his feet, and moved over to help Chloe get Sam off the ground. The two of them braced Sam between them, and hoisted him to his feet.
“Let's go, psychic boy,” he said as he steered them toward the bed that had been pushed into the corner. “We're going to sleep it off.”
“Not tired,” Sam grumbled.
“Then you can just lie there until you are tired,” Dean said gently.
“Okay,” Sam sounded put-upon at the idea. They sat him on the bed, and Dean pulled Sam's boots off. Sam rolled onto his side, and Chloe pulled the covers up to his chin.
“It's all connected you know,” Sam said. “Molecules and atoms and everything in space.” Suddenly, he broke into song. “The circle of life!”
“What's he singing?” Dean twisted his face into his own unique version of the bitchface.
“It's from The Lion King,” Chloe said. “Elton John, I think.”
“Dude,” Dean scoffed. “That ain't right.” He turned to Sam. “You're lucky that I'm such an awesome brother. Otherwise I might smother you with a pillow.” He got up, and reached for his keys and wallet.
“Where are you going?” Chloe asked.
“To find a bar and hustle some quick cash,” Dean said. “No way am I spending the night in a room with the Piano man.”
“I think the Piano Man is Billy Joel, Dean.”
“Whatever.” Dean threw over his shoulder as he walked out the door.
A/N: The Special Projects Christmas Fic starts tomorrow.