Two Guys, a Girl and a Chevy Impala: Fic Three: Gno-Man's Land
Series: Two Guys, a Girl and a Chevy Impala
Title: Fic 3: Gno-Man’s Land
Authors: Clarksmuse and X_tremeroswellian
Rated: R
Pairings: Chloe/Dean, Sam/Sarah
Gno-Man’s Land (Chapter One)
"We're getting close," Dean shouted over the AC/DC blaring through the Impala's speakers. It had been a rough few days, he thought, trying to focus on the music instead of his ever-present thoughts. He hadn't said much to Sam in the way of what he'd said to Chloe, mostly because he was still pissed as hell over that.
As uncomfortable as it was with Sam, however, it was NOTHING compared to the sheer awkwardness of being in the same place with Chloe... knowing she knew how he felt about her... knowing she probably would never feel the same. It just didn't add up as being particularly fair for his team, but... He inwardly shrugged. There was nothing else he could do. He wanted her around, and he was trying to give her as much distance as she needed.
He glanced in the rearview mirror for the tenth time that day, smiling a little as she slept in the backseat.
Sam glanced at him sideways, then in the rearview mirror, seeing the same thing his brother saw. He sat up a little, and turned down the music a tad. "Dude, there's something I've been thinking..."
"That maybe you've learned to keep your cakehole shut?" he snarked slightly, his eyes straying back to the sign that said, "Hudson Valley 70 miles".
He shot Dean an impatient look. "About Chloe," he said in a hushed tone.
Glancing back into the rearview mirror to make sure she hadn't awoken at the sound of her name, he replied slowly, "Okay, what?"
Sam let out a breath. "I've been doing some research, Dean, and I think she may be suffering from PTSD."
"Post Tramatic Stress?" Dean asked, frowning though his eyes stuck to the road. "Because of the preacher's mojo on her?" Sam had been doing some homework, it seemed.
"She exhibits a lot of the symptoms," he said quietly. "And we still have no idea what exactly he did to her."
He was silent, lost in thought, for a moment. "You think she knows what the preacher dude said to her?" he wondered out loud, glancing back at her once more.
"I don't know, Dean," he said quietly, gazing out the windshield. "Did you hear her last night?"
If he could have closed his eyes, he would have at the memory of her cries, her yelling Clark's name over and over again. He'd wanted to wake her up and comfort her, but given present circumstances, he refrained. And listened in agony as she went through her nightmares. "Yes, Sammy," he ground out.
"She's exhausted. And she can't go on like this forever."
"Did you ever call Missouri?" Sam had never mentioned this point of fact, and if Chloe really had PTSD, then maybe Missouri was the only person who could help her.
"Yeah...I got the machine. I asked her to call back, but so far..." He shrugged.
"Dammit." Dean gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. he sent out a mental command towards Missouri, demanding that she call.... as if she could hear across the freakin' country, he thought. "Got any bright ideas on what to do in the meantime?" he whispered to Sam.
He drew in a breath. "Maybe one of us should try to convince her to see a doctor."
"It'd have to be you, Sammy. I don't see her... wanting me too close to her." He felt a twinge of awareness that he was in a situation where he wasn't loved back, but he stepped on that thought immediately.
"I don't know that she'll listen to either of us."
"At least she still talks to you, Sammy. When I'm around..." He shook his head in frustration. "Damn him," he whispered to himself, cursing whatever horrors in her past that had put a permanent scar on her heart.
Sam glanced at him sideways. "You think this is more about...whatever happened in Smallville than evil preacher man?"
He stared straight ahead, not answering his brother's question. He 'knew' Chloe's past was at the root of her issues. The insane preacher just programmed her so she'd never forget about them. Finally, after several moments, he nodded in quiet agreement.
"Great," he murmured, resting his head back against the seat. The likelihood of getting her to open up about whatever happened there was slim to none.
Clearing his throat, Dean abruptly changed the subject. "So you heard from Sarah since International Falls?"
"No." Sam rubbed his jaw and stared out the passenger side window, wondering how Chloe could possibly sleep through the blaring music.
"Great, so Sarah emails 'Come' and you say 'How quickly'?" He glanced in the backseat, a little grateful she was sleeping at the moment.
He glared at Dean. "Kinda like when Cassie called you?" he retorted.
Dean let out a short, sarcastic snort. "This coming from the guy who didn't wanna go out with Sarah to begin with."
"It's not about going out with her. She's in trouble." His glare intensified.
"Oh, and possessive. Gotta add that to the list." He moved the Impala off the interstate to the road leading to David Blake Auction and Estate House.
"Shut up, Dean," he said with a scowl, turning to look out the window once more.
"Hell no, Sammy. It's too funny watching you be pissy, especially when we're going to see your girl this time."
"Yeah cause mine's not asleep in the backseat."
"You're just jealous that she ISN'T." Dean wasn't gonna deny that Chloe was his girl, because she was. She just didn't really know it yet.
Sam rolled his eyes, wondering if his big brother would ever actually grow up.
The rest of the trip was made in the relative silence of the music-filled car. Dean had decided to stop at the hotel they'd stayed at last time before hitting the auction, so when he pulled into the parking lot thirty minutes later, he turned off the engine and laughed softly. "Wonder if we're gonna get that disco room again."
Sam smirked and glanced at Chloe in the backseat. Somehow he had a feeling it'd take more than a disco room to help Dean out in that particular department. Climbing out of the car, he stretched his legs and drew in a deep breath. He couldn't help it. He was looking forward to seeing Sarah again. Even if she was in trouble.
Dean got out of the car and pulled the driver's seat back, gently nudging Chloe. "Hey, Chlo," he whispered. "Wake up. We're here." He used his free hand to pop the trunk.
Her eyebrows furrowed a little and she slowly opened her eyes, looking dazed for a moment. "Where are we?"
"Hotel. Hudson Valley. Where Sammy's girl is." He leaned out of the car and walked around to get their gear.
Sam rolled his eyes at Dean's comment. "I'm going to get the rooms," he called, walking off in a hurry.
"Right," she murmured, slowly climbing out of the car and blinking a few times at the bright sunlight that invaded her vision. She moved around to the trunk to get her bags, flinching slightly when her cell phone began to ring in her purse.
Dean watched as Chloe pulled her cell phone out and flinched as she looked at the number. He wanted to ask who it was but refrained, pulling out their bags and slamming the trunk without a word. He walked towards Sam, who had left the hotel lobby with two sets of keys.
She stared at the number for a long time, then shut her eyes as she slowly lifted it to her ear. "What?"
Silence on the other line for a moment. "Chloe?" Clark Kent finally asked, shocked and surprised that she had answered the phone. "Hey..." His voice guilt-ridden and regretful, he tried to speak.
Her jaw clenched involuntarily, tears stinging her eyes at the sound of his voice. "What do you need, Clark?"
"Chloe, I... I need to... I'm sorry about..." He stumbled over his words, trying to find the right words to tell her just how badly he felt for... what he'd done.
"Don't," she cut him off, not wanting to hear an apology. Her shoulders were tense. "Just...don't, Clark."
"But I need to, Chloe. I'm sorry that I..." He swallowed hard, unable to even speak the words. "I could have really hurt you."
A tear trickled down her cheek. "Newsflash...you did," she whispered.
The intensity of her pain rippled through the phone and into Clark's head, making it pound... if it was possible. "I'm so sorry, Chloe. It was... it was the red-k. I... I didn't know what I was doing."
A bitter smile touched her lips. "Yeah. Clearly. Because I look nothing like Lana Lang, right? I gotta go."
"Lana? Wha --" Before he could utter another word, Chloe had hung up on him.
Meanwhile, Dean watched Chloe standing by the Impala, talking on her phone and growing more upset by the second. It had to be Clark, he thought, watching her hang up the phone and ram it into her purse, her face stony.
She held her breath in an attempt to postpone the breakdown she felt rapidly approaching. The last thing she wanted to do was break in front of Sam or Dean. Especially Dean. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she turned and slowly headed toward the motel lobby.
Seeing her run across the lot and into the lobby, Dean felt compelled to follow her. He took a step out the door to go after her.
"Dude. Don't." Sam's voice was loud from the other side of the room.
Dean stopped in his tracks and turned to look at his brother, who had gotten out his laptop and was pulling up something. "Oh, your ESP working overtime again?" he snapped in irritation.
"Just...give her a few minutes, man. She needs a breather," Sam replied, giving his brother a look.
Dean didn't comment, but simply turned to stare out the door again. He remained in his spot, however. "Any word from Sarah?" he asked, knowing his brother was checking his email. He smiled faintly. It'd be nice to have Sam happy again, he thought.
His eyebrows furrowed. "Yeah...apparently something stole a very valuable painting last night."
"Great, more paintings," he grumbled under his breath, feeling as stupid this time as he had the last time around. "Instead of a haunted painting, we've got something that actually wants them."
"Which is a step up. Hopefully. As long as there aren't any creepy little girls trying to stab me with a pair of barber's sheers." He rubbed his neck subconsciously, reading the email again.
"Oh, you know you enjoyed that time with Sarah," Dean joked sarcastically, mentally agreeing with him. "So you gonna call her or what?" He turned and gave Sam a pointed look.
He offered his brother a small, wry smile. "Yeah. I'll let her know we're here." He moved over to the phone by the bed, smirking at the fact they had indeed gotten the same damn room again.
"Good," he replied with a small smile, turning back to the door to watch for Chloe. Wondering what the hell she was thinking and whether he'd ever get through to her or not.
Feeling a little nervous, he picked up the phone receiver and dialed Sarah's number, hoping Dean didn't realize he had it memorized.
Sarah had been listening to her father rant and rave over the missing portrait... something she was kind of glad was gone... when her cell chirped to life. She didn't recognize the number, so she flipped open her phone. "Sarah Blake," she answered, waving off her father.
"Sarah? It's Sam," he said, his heart skipping a beat.
"Sam?" she asked, trying to conceal her excitement at hearing his tenor voice. "Hey, are you in town?" She walked upstairs and into her office to get some peace and quiet."
"We are," he confirmed. "We just got a couple rooms at the motel. Are you...the auction house?"
She blew out a frustrated breath. "Unfortunately. Dad's been griping about that portrait of Douglas Fairbanks going missing. Personally, I hated it, but...”She swallowed hard and breathed in again. "It's good to hear your voice."
A faint smile touched his lips. "Ditto," he said softly. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, glancing at his brother, who was staring out the window, probably watching for Chloe. "When would be good for us to meet?"
She glanced at the clock. "Can we make it an hour? I have to try to weasel my way out of here first. When Dad's foaming at the mouth, it's hard to escape the fallout." She frowned at hearing him shouting from upstairs. "Are you at the same place as last time? I can meet you."
"Yeah, same place. Same room, in fact," he said with a short chuckle. "An hour sounds great."
"Fantastic," Sarah replied with a grin she hoped came through her voice. "I can't wait to see you again, Sam." He had no idea just how much she had.
He couldn't help the smile that spread across his own face at her words. "Me either. See you soon," he said softly, reluctantly hanging up the phone a minute later.
"She was flirting with you, wasn't she?" Dean asked with a smirk, having heard Sam's side of the conversation. He was beginning to wonder where Chloe was, as she had not yet appeared from the lobby door.
"Shut up," he said, though his voice was lighter than usual. "Where's Chloe?"
"If I knew that, I wouldn't say 'I have no idea'," he replied, rubbing a hand over his face. "I should go see if she's okay." He started out the open door.
"Yeah." Sam watched him go.
"When we meeting Sarah?" Dean asked, peeking his head back in the door and giving Sam a knowing smile.
"She's coming by in about an hour." He returned the smile and shook his head ruefully.
"So go get pretty, dude," Dean replied, seeing the smile and nearly laughing out loud. "I bet she's doing the same." With that parting shot, he walked off towards the lobby.
&&&&&&&&&&&&
Chloe sat in the far corner of the motel lobby, curled up in a chair staring out the window blankly. Her eyes were red-rimmed from spending the last twenty minutes crying in the bathroom. She was oblivious to all that was going on around her, including the curious stares she was getting from the hosts at the front desk.
Running into the lobby, Dean was more than relieved to see she hadn't bolted. Ignoring the front desk staff, he quickly crossed the room to where she sat, tight as a ball in the corner, like she was trying to sink into the wall itself. "Chloe," he said softly, crouching in front of her and looking into her unseeing, red eyes.
"We have rooms?" she asked dully.
"Yes, and I'll carry you to yours," he replied softly.
For some reason that made her eyes tear up once more. "I can walk," she whispered, slowly rising to her feet.
She looked wobbly on her feet, so Dean swept her up in his arms. "Shut up and let me carry you," he growled, holding her tightly to him as he walked for the door, nodding only to the person who held the door open so they could pass.
Chloe swallowed hard, shutting her eyes as he carried her toward a room. She didn't know if he was taking her to hers or his, and she didn't care. She rested her head on his shoulder.
Going into their room, as he'd left the door open, Dean called, "Sammy, open Chloe's door, dude."
Sam jumped at Dean's hard voice, having been lost in thought over seeing Sarah again. When he saw that Dean held Chloe, he nodded and grabbed her key, moving outside to unlock her door.
Dean swept by Sam, muttering a thanks before kicking the door shut behind him and laying her on the bed.
She exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to her face as her head pounded painfully. "Thanks," she murmured, keeping her eyes closed.
"Sure." He pulled the comforter over her body, trying to keep her from shaking like a leaf. He didn't think it was from the cool winter air, however. "I'd ask what was going on, but I think I know."
"Yeah?"
"It was someone from Smallville on the phone," he said in a sad voice. He didn't want to say the guy's name but instead shook his head and moving to sit at the foot of the bed.
"You're good," she murmured, shifting her feet a little so he could sit down.
Dean smiled faintly. "Yeah, I get lucky once in a blue moon." He watched her move to let him sit, but he suddenly found he couldn't. He stood up. "Look, I should probably let you sleep, unless...." He knew she'd have to open up eventually, but he reminded himself not to push her.
"Unless what?" she whispered.
He looked uncertain. "You wanna talk about it..." he said slowly.
Chloe swallowed hard. "No."
"Didn't think so." He moved away from the bed and towards the door. "Get some sleep, okay? We're meeting Sarah in about an hour. You up for that?" He hoped she'd say no, from the standpoint of needing sleep badly, but at the same time, he wanted her to be a part of this hunt with him. It seemed... more important than usual.
"I'll be there," she murmured tiredly.
"Okay," Dean whispered, not certain if was relived or concerned by her response. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her while she slept, but that didn't seem to be the right thing to do. "I'll wake you in a little while, then."
"All right." She waited until she heard the door click shut. Then she buried her face into the pillow.
Dean returned to the other room and sat down on his bed, burying his face in his hands. It was going to be a long hour, he thought, and he hoped she got some sleep in the meantime. He didn't notice Sam's look in his direction.
"I'm guessing she's not all right."
"Nope, she's not," he told Sam.
He sighed softly. "I uh...printed some stuff out I thought you might wanna read." He picked up a stack of pages and handed it over to him.
"What is all this?" he asked, looking up at his brother, grateful for the distraction. He scanned several pages. "Signs of PTSD? Symptoms? How to Help Someone with PTSD?" He put them down and looked at his brother. "Dude, you really think this is Chloe's problem? Even with... the brainwashing?"
"I think the brainwashing just exacerbated it," he said quietly.
He focused on the article regarding the symptoms. "Yeah, she has most of these," he said out loud, scanning through the lengthy list of symptoms that all point toward post-traumatic stress disorder. "Thanks, Sammy."
"Sure thing," he answered. "Dean...are you okay?"
Sighing, Dean put down the stack of papers and looked at Sam, his heart full of the kind of ache and emptiness no one should have to contend with. He was too tired to care about masking his inner turmoil.
"What can I do?" he asked worriedly.
"I don't know, dude. I... I just don't know." He looked away and down at the paper in his hands. Maybe this held the key to Chloe's recovery, but his mind was too wrapped up in whether she was going to make it through the next day to worry much about the future.
"Maybe Sarah will be able to help," Sam said thoughtfully.
"Maybe," he replied. "The female thing, right? The... bonding, or whatever it's called?" He noticed the look on Sam's face and smiled a little bit.
"Yeah. That." He smiled back.
"Good thing we're here, then." Scooting back onto the bed, he picked up the stack of papers. "If I fall asleep, wake me up when Sarah gets here, okay?"
"Sure thing, Dean." He watched his brother for a moment, then headed to the bathroom to get a shower.
Title: Fic 3: Gno-Man’s Land
Authors: Clarksmuse and X_tremeroswellian
Rated: R
Pairings: Chloe/Dean, Sam/Sarah
Gno-Man’s Land (Chapter One)
"We're getting close," Dean shouted over the AC/DC blaring through the Impala's speakers. It had been a rough few days, he thought, trying to focus on the music instead of his ever-present thoughts. He hadn't said much to Sam in the way of what he'd said to Chloe, mostly because he was still pissed as hell over that.
As uncomfortable as it was with Sam, however, it was NOTHING compared to the sheer awkwardness of being in the same place with Chloe... knowing she knew how he felt about her... knowing she probably would never feel the same. It just didn't add up as being particularly fair for his team, but... He inwardly shrugged. There was nothing else he could do. He wanted her around, and he was trying to give her as much distance as she needed.
He glanced in the rearview mirror for the tenth time that day, smiling a little as she slept in the backseat.
Sam glanced at him sideways, then in the rearview mirror, seeing the same thing his brother saw. He sat up a little, and turned down the music a tad. "Dude, there's something I've been thinking..."
"That maybe you've learned to keep your cakehole shut?" he snarked slightly, his eyes straying back to the sign that said, "Hudson Valley 70 miles".
He shot Dean an impatient look. "About Chloe," he said in a hushed tone.
Glancing back into the rearview mirror to make sure she hadn't awoken at the sound of her name, he replied slowly, "Okay, what?"
Sam let out a breath. "I've been doing some research, Dean, and I think she may be suffering from PTSD."
"Post Tramatic Stress?" Dean asked, frowning though his eyes stuck to the road. "Because of the preacher's mojo on her?" Sam had been doing some homework, it seemed.
"She exhibits a lot of the symptoms," he said quietly. "And we still have no idea what exactly he did to her."
He was silent, lost in thought, for a moment. "You think she knows what the preacher dude said to her?" he wondered out loud, glancing back at her once more.
"I don't know, Dean," he said quietly, gazing out the windshield. "Did you hear her last night?"
If he could have closed his eyes, he would have at the memory of her cries, her yelling Clark's name over and over again. He'd wanted to wake her up and comfort her, but given present circumstances, he refrained. And listened in agony as she went through her nightmares. "Yes, Sammy," he ground out.
"She's exhausted. And she can't go on like this forever."
"Did you ever call Missouri?" Sam had never mentioned this point of fact, and if Chloe really had PTSD, then maybe Missouri was the only person who could help her.
"Yeah...I got the machine. I asked her to call back, but so far..." He shrugged.
"Dammit." Dean gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. he sent out a mental command towards Missouri, demanding that she call.... as if she could hear across the freakin' country, he thought. "Got any bright ideas on what to do in the meantime?" he whispered to Sam.
He drew in a breath. "Maybe one of us should try to convince her to see a doctor."
"It'd have to be you, Sammy. I don't see her... wanting me too close to her." He felt a twinge of awareness that he was in a situation where he wasn't loved back, but he stepped on that thought immediately.
"I don't know that she'll listen to either of us."
"At least she still talks to you, Sammy. When I'm around..." He shook his head in frustration. "Damn him," he whispered to himself, cursing whatever horrors in her past that had put a permanent scar on her heart.
Sam glanced at him sideways. "You think this is more about...whatever happened in Smallville than evil preacher man?"
He stared straight ahead, not answering his brother's question. He 'knew' Chloe's past was at the root of her issues. The insane preacher just programmed her so she'd never forget about them. Finally, after several moments, he nodded in quiet agreement.
"Great," he murmured, resting his head back against the seat. The likelihood of getting her to open up about whatever happened there was slim to none.
Clearing his throat, Dean abruptly changed the subject. "So you heard from Sarah since International Falls?"
"No." Sam rubbed his jaw and stared out the passenger side window, wondering how Chloe could possibly sleep through the blaring music.
"Great, so Sarah emails 'Come' and you say 'How quickly'?" He glanced in the backseat, a little grateful she was sleeping at the moment.
He glared at Dean. "Kinda like when Cassie called you?" he retorted.
Dean let out a short, sarcastic snort. "This coming from the guy who didn't wanna go out with Sarah to begin with."
"It's not about going out with her. She's in trouble." His glare intensified.
"Oh, and possessive. Gotta add that to the list." He moved the Impala off the interstate to the road leading to David Blake Auction and Estate House.
"Shut up, Dean," he said with a scowl, turning to look out the window once more.
"Hell no, Sammy. It's too funny watching you be pissy, especially when we're going to see your girl this time."
"Yeah cause mine's not asleep in the backseat."
"You're just jealous that she ISN'T." Dean wasn't gonna deny that Chloe was his girl, because she was. She just didn't really know it yet.
Sam rolled his eyes, wondering if his big brother would ever actually grow up.
The rest of the trip was made in the relative silence of the music-filled car. Dean had decided to stop at the hotel they'd stayed at last time before hitting the auction, so when he pulled into the parking lot thirty minutes later, he turned off the engine and laughed softly. "Wonder if we're gonna get that disco room again."
Sam smirked and glanced at Chloe in the backseat. Somehow he had a feeling it'd take more than a disco room to help Dean out in that particular department. Climbing out of the car, he stretched his legs and drew in a deep breath. He couldn't help it. He was looking forward to seeing Sarah again. Even if she was in trouble.
Dean got out of the car and pulled the driver's seat back, gently nudging Chloe. "Hey, Chlo," he whispered. "Wake up. We're here." He used his free hand to pop the trunk.
Her eyebrows furrowed a little and she slowly opened her eyes, looking dazed for a moment. "Where are we?"
"Hotel. Hudson Valley. Where Sammy's girl is." He leaned out of the car and walked around to get their gear.
Sam rolled his eyes at Dean's comment. "I'm going to get the rooms," he called, walking off in a hurry.
"Right," she murmured, slowly climbing out of the car and blinking a few times at the bright sunlight that invaded her vision. She moved around to the trunk to get her bags, flinching slightly when her cell phone began to ring in her purse.
Dean watched as Chloe pulled her cell phone out and flinched as she looked at the number. He wanted to ask who it was but refrained, pulling out their bags and slamming the trunk without a word. He walked towards Sam, who had left the hotel lobby with two sets of keys.
She stared at the number for a long time, then shut her eyes as she slowly lifted it to her ear. "What?"
Silence on the other line for a moment. "Chloe?" Clark Kent finally asked, shocked and surprised that she had answered the phone. "Hey..." His voice guilt-ridden and regretful, he tried to speak.
Her jaw clenched involuntarily, tears stinging her eyes at the sound of his voice. "What do you need, Clark?"
"Chloe, I... I need to... I'm sorry about..." He stumbled over his words, trying to find the right words to tell her just how badly he felt for... what he'd done.
"Don't," she cut him off, not wanting to hear an apology. Her shoulders were tense. "Just...don't, Clark."
"But I need to, Chloe. I'm sorry that I..." He swallowed hard, unable to even speak the words. "I could have really hurt you."
A tear trickled down her cheek. "Newsflash...you did," she whispered.
The intensity of her pain rippled through the phone and into Clark's head, making it pound... if it was possible. "I'm so sorry, Chloe. It was... it was the red-k. I... I didn't know what I was doing."
A bitter smile touched her lips. "Yeah. Clearly. Because I look nothing like Lana Lang, right? I gotta go."
"Lana? Wha --" Before he could utter another word, Chloe had hung up on him.
Meanwhile, Dean watched Chloe standing by the Impala, talking on her phone and growing more upset by the second. It had to be Clark, he thought, watching her hang up the phone and ram it into her purse, her face stony.
She held her breath in an attempt to postpone the breakdown she felt rapidly approaching. The last thing she wanted to do was break in front of Sam or Dean. Especially Dean. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she turned and slowly headed toward the motel lobby.
Seeing her run across the lot and into the lobby, Dean felt compelled to follow her. He took a step out the door to go after her.
"Dude. Don't." Sam's voice was loud from the other side of the room.
Dean stopped in his tracks and turned to look at his brother, who had gotten out his laptop and was pulling up something. "Oh, your ESP working overtime again?" he snapped in irritation.
"Just...give her a few minutes, man. She needs a breather," Sam replied, giving his brother a look.
Dean didn't comment, but simply turned to stare out the door again. He remained in his spot, however. "Any word from Sarah?" he asked, knowing his brother was checking his email. He smiled faintly. It'd be nice to have Sam happy again, he thought.
His eyebrows furrowed. "Yeah...apparently something stole a very valuable painting last night."
"Great, more paintings," he grumbled under his breath, feeling as stupid this time as he had the last time around. "Instead of a haunted painting, we've got something that actually wants them."
"Which is a step up. Hopefully. As long as there aren't any creepy little girls trying to stab me with a pair of barber's sheers." He rubbed his neck subconsciously, reading the email again.
"Oh, you know you enjoyed that time with Sarah," Dean joked sarcastically, mentally agreeing with him. "So you gonna call her or what?" He turned and gave Sam a pointed look.
He offered his brother a small, wry smile. "Yeah. I'll let her know we're here." He moved over to the phone by the bed, smirking at the fact they had indeed gotten the same damn room again.
"Good," he replied with a small smile, turning back to the door to watch for Chloe. Wondering what the hell she was thinking and whether he'd ever get through to her or not.
Feeling a little nervous, he picked up the phone receiver and dialed Sarah's number, hoping Dean didn't realize he had it memorized.
Sarah had been listening to her father rant and rave over the missing portrait... something she was kind of glad was gone... when her cell chirped to life. She didn't recognize the number, so she flipped open her phone. "Sarah Blake," she answered, waving off her father.
"Sarah? It's Sam," he said, his heart skipping a beat.
"Sam?" she asked, trying to conceal her excitement at hearing his tenor voice. "Hey, are you in town?" She walked upstairs and into her office to get some peace and quiet."
"We are," he confirmed. "We just got a couple rooms at the motel. Are you...the auction house?"
She blew out a frustrated breath. "Unfortunately. Dad's been griping about that portrait of Douglas Fairbanks going missing. Personally, I hated it, but...”She swallowed hard and breathed in again. "It's good to hear your voice."
A faint smile touched his lips. "Ditto," he said softly. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, glancing at his brother, who was staring out the window, probably watching for Chloe. "When would be good for us to meet?"
She glanced at the clock. "Can we make it an hour? I have to try to weasel my way out of here first. When Dad's foaming at the mouth, it's hard to escape the fallout." She frowned at hearing him shouting from upstairs. "Are you at the same place as last time? I can meet you."
"Yeah, same place. Same room, in fact," he said with a short chuckle. "An hour sounds great."
"Fantastic," Sarah replied with a grin she hoped came through her voice. "I can't wait to see you again, Sam." He had no idea just how much she had.
He couldn't help the smile that spread across his own face at her words. "Me either. See you soon," he said softly, reluctantly hanging up the phone a minute later.
"She was flirting with you, wasn't she?" Dean asked with a smirk, having heard Sam's side of the conversation. He was beginning to wonder where Chloe was, as she had not yet appeared from the lobby door.
"Shut up," he said, though his voice was lighter than usual. "Where's Chloe?"
"If I knew that, I wouldn't say 'I have no idea'," he replied, rubbing a hand over his face. "I should go see if she's okay." He started out the open door.
"Yeah." Sam watched him go.
"When we meeting Sarah?" Dean asked, peeking his head back in the door and giving Sam a knowing smile.
"She's coming by in about an hour." He returned the smile and shook his head ruefully.
"So go get pretty, dude," Dean replied, seeing the smile and nearly laughing out loud. "I bet she's doing the same." With that parting shot, he walked off towards the lobby.
&&&&&&&&&&&&
Chloe sat in the far corner of the motel lobby, curled up in a chair staring out the window blankly. Her eyes were red-rimmed from spending the last twenty minutes crying in the bathroom. She was oblivious to all that was going on around her, including the curious stares she was getting from the hosts at the front desk.
Running into the lobby, Dean was more than relieved to see she hadn't bolted. Ignoring the front desk staff, he quickly crossed the room to where she sat, tight as a ball in the corner, like she was trying to sink into the wall itself. "Chloe," he said softly, crouching in front of her and looking into her unseeing, red eyes.
"We have rooms?" she asked dully.
"Yes, and I'll carry you to yours," he replied softly.
For some reason that made her eyes tear up once more. "I can walk," she whispered, slowly rising to her feet.
She looked wobbly on her feet, so Dean swept her up in his arms. "Shut up and let me carry you," he growled, holding her tightly to him as he walked for the door, nodding only to the person who held the door open so they could pass.
Chloe swallowed hard, shutting her eyes as he carried her toward a room. She didn't know if he was taking her to hers or his, and she didn't care. She rested her head on his shoulder.
Going into their room, as he'd left the door open, Dean called, "Sammy, open Chloe's door, dude."
Sam jumped at Dean's hard voice, having been lost in thought over seeing Sarah again. When he saw that Dean held Chloe, he nodded and grabbed her key, moving outside to unlock her door.
Dean swept by Sam, muttering a thanks before kicking the door shut behind him and laying her on the bed.
She exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to her face as her head pounded painfully. "Thanks," she murmured, keeping her eyes closed.
"Sure." He pulled the comforter over her body, trying to keep her from shaking like a leaf. He didn't think it was from the cool winter air, however. "I'd ask what was going on, but I think I know."
"Yeah?"
"It was someone from Smallville on the phone," he said in a sad voice. He didn't want to say the guy's name but instead shook his head and moving to sit at the foot of the bed.
"You're good," she murmured, shifting her feet a little so he could sit down.
Dean smiled faintly. "Yeah, I get lucky once in a blue moon." He watched her move to let him sit, but he suddenly found he couldn't. He stood up. "Look, I should probably let you sleep, unless...." He knew she'd have to open up eventually, but he reminded himself not to push her.
"Unless what?" she whispered.
He looked uncertain. "You wanna talk about it..." he said slowly.
Chloe swallowed hard. "No."
"Didn't think so." He moved away from the bed and towards the door. "Get some sleep, okay? We're meeting Sarah in about an hour. You up for that?" He hoped she'd say no, from the standpoint of needing sleep badly, but at the same time, he wanted her to be a part of this hunt with him. It seemed... more important than usual.
"I'll be there," she murmured tiredly.
"Okay," Dean whispered, not certain if was relived or concerned by her response. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her while she slept, but that didn't seem to be the right thing to do. "I'll wake you in a little while, then."
"All right." She waited until she heard the door click shut. Then she buried her face into the pillow.
Dean returned to the other room and sat down on his bed, burying his face in his hands. It was going to be a long hour, he thought, and he hoped she got some sleep in the meantime. He didn't notice Sam's look in his direction.
"I'm guessing she's not all right."
"Nope, she's not," he told Sam.
He sighed softly. "I uh...printed some stuff out I thought you might wanna read." He picked up a stack of pages and handed it over to him.
"What is all this?" he asked, looking up at his brother, grateful for the distraction. He scanned several pages. "Signs of PTSD? Symptoms? How to Help Someone with PTSD?" He put them down and looked at his brother. "Dude, you really think this is Chloe's problem? Even with... the brainwashing?"
"I think the brainwashing just exacerbated it," he said quietly.
He focused on the article regarding the symptoms. "Yeah, she has most of these," he said out loud, scanning through the lengthy list of symptoms that all point toward post-traumatic stress disorder. "Thanks, Sammy."
"Sure thing," he answered. "Dean...are you okay?"
Sighing, Dean put down the stack of papers and looked at Sam, his heart full of the kind of ache and emptiness no one should have to contend with. He was too tired to care about masking his inner turmoil.
"What can I do?" he asked worriedly.
"I don't know, dude. I... I just don't know." He looked away and down at the paper in his hands. Maybe this held the key to Chloe's recovery, but his mind was too wrapped up in whether she was going to make it through the next day to worry much about the future.
"Maybe Sarah will be able to help," Sam said thoughtfully.
"Maybe," he replied. "The female thing, right? The... bonding, or whatever it's called?" He noticed the look on Sam's face and smiled a little bit.
"Yeah. That." He smiled back.
"Good thing we're here, then." Scooting back onto the bed, he picked up the stack of papers. "If I fall asleep, wake me up when Sarah gets here, okay?"
"Sure thing, Dean." He watched his brother for a moment, then headed to the bathroom to get a shower.