Title: The Roads We Take
Verse: Supernatural/Smallville Crossover
Genre: Romance/Angst/Adventure
Pairing: Chloe/Dean, Chloe/Oliver
Rating: M for language, violence & sexual suggestion (MA on AO3 and LJ for sexual situations)
Disclaimer: I own nothing. But dear god, how I wish I could own Dean Winchester. :)
Summary: At last, Chloe is reunited with her family in Metropolis, and the world seems on edge as Sam topples over the razor's edge and Dean makes a deal he can't go back on. But, when Fate pulls them all together once more to cross paths with one of hell's most honored prisoners, just how will the cards fall? Fate's mysteries deepen, the countdown begins, and Chloe finds herself torn between the man she knows she'll lose, and the one she knows she can't have. Set through late season 2 of Supernatural (after Born Under A Bad Sign) through season 3, and season 10 of Smallville and beyond.
A/N: Hey, guys! First of all, WOW! Thank you to everyone who's been bearing with this series thus far, and patiently (or impatiently, which was a pleasant surprise) waited for the next installment! As you might have realized, I was a little focused on Once Upon A Time, but for the most part, that has passed. I'll be finishing those fics as well, but I am eager to crack open this fic now, and can actually dedicate the time for it JUST in time for us to go onto the hellatuuuus. Anyway, be sure to subscribe to me on AO3 or friend me on LJ, because, um, this one's gonna get racey. Like, downright what I would think you guys have been kinda waiting for. But, first, it's time to throw these crazy kids back into the mix! Also, thank you to JJ2020, lita2extreme, Kristen and all the others who left reviews on Born On A Monday! I am absolutely flattered that you all like this fic so much! Also, be sure to go check out Pompeypearly and thank V, since I highly admire ALL OF THE FIC and V was nice enough to encourage me to get back on this fic! Anyway, please read, review and let others know, if that's your kind of thing, as I love to hear what you think!

Chapter One: Answers Before Questions

424:12:52.49

I've been having these feelings.

With the Bell and Wheel and Jar

Demons Three, Near or Far

Rage. Hate. And I can't stop it. Day by day, it gets worse.

I don't want to hurt anyone else. I don't want to hurt you.

In The Pit of Hell they Dwell

All loyal generals

It didn't have to be this way. Or maybe it did.

My daddy shot your daddy in the head...

You're not Sam.

And there he barters

And here he martyrs

You can't hurt me. Not without hurting your little brother. See, I think you're gonna die, Dean. You and every other hunter I can find. One look as Sam's dewey, sensitive eyes? They'll let me right in their door.

Spiritus in mundus un glorum suarum umitite palatum iram domine ...

It's a binding link! It's like a lock! He's locked himself inside Sam's body!

The Faust, The Faust! He shall cry

And rise with Blood upon the sky

Hell is like, um, Well, it's like hell. Even for demons. It's a prison, made of bone and flesh and blood and fear; And you sent me back there.

Meg.

Whatever I do to you, it's nothing compared to what you'll do to yourself, is it? I can see it in your eyes, Dean. You're worthless. You couldn't save your Dad, and deep down you know that you can't save your

brother. They'd have been better off without you.

And there she cries

And there she dies

I was awake for some of it, Dean. I watched myself kill Wandell with my own two hands; I saw the light go out in his eyes.

Sam, when Dad told me that I might have to kill you, it was only if I couldn't save you. Now, if it's the last thing I do I'm going to save you.

Gone! Gone! - The Form of Jar

These things create chaos and mischief as easy as breathing, and it's got you so turned around and at each other's throats, you can't even think straight.

Toll! Toll! - The Form of Bell

I'm looking for the best and brightest of your generation.

Spin! Spin! - The Form of Wheel

SAM!

Nabu, Nabu! The throng intones

And she is trapped and alone

"Chloe."

424:10:32.23

Chloe's eyes opened; her hand moved on instinct, reaching out for some invisible assailant as her heart pounded painfully, nauseatingly in her chest. Her breath came in sharp, staccato bursts. In the pitch black of the underground facility run by the Suicide Squad, her eyes couldn't focus. They found nothing in front of her but more shadows that threatened to swallow her. A staggered, choked gasp for air, sharp and atonal, echoed and made her jump again until she realized that through the roaring in her ears, that was her own voice.

Reaching back behind her, her slender fingers fumbled along the smooth surface of her nightstand before they desperately gripped the base of her desk lamp.

Light flared like a beacon in the small room, illuminating the sheen of sweat running down the blonde's face in all too noticeable beads. At once, her shoulders shook as tension and momentary suspense, fear of the unknown, was chased away along with the rest of the demons. Shadows gave way to simple furniture that held absolutely no emotional attachment to her, but comforted her nonetheless.

Chloe's breath kept tumbling out of her, one beat after the other, as she rode through writhing, wordless fear that had followed her from her dreams. In just the few seconds between the darkness and the light, the details of her dream had completely abandoned her, leaving only the trepidation and terror that she needed to work through.

Swinging her legs over, she slid out of bed and forced herself to her feet. Padding over to the small spartan bathroom in her equally spartan quarters, Chloe immediately flipped on the faucet, leaning over the sink with her hands gripping the white porcelain tightly. Before her fingers could lock into that position out of stiffness and distress, she forced them under the stream, washing her face free of the sweat and grime. Images flashed behind her closed lids of the Winchesters, but they didn't make any sense.

Of course her nightmares were about them. That's always who occupied her nightmares. She hadn't spoken to Dean in five days, which was not unusual in itself, but both of them had known something was wrong with Sam. She'd been so focused on this truce - as shaky as it was - with Flagg, she hadn't been able to reach the brothers. Their phones still rang and went to voicemail, though, so that was something. She had already told herself twice not to use her considerable skills to track them down, but her patience was wearing thin. If she didn't hear anything by tomorrow, she would find them. She couldn't justify waiting.

As she stood upright once more, hands sweeping over her cheekbones to wipe water away, her eyes scanned the reflection in the mirror. Haunted. Cold.

Every day, less and less remained of the Chloe Sullivan who had started this journey.

No curls, no bounce in her step, and no twinkle in her eyes. Just the military precision of the Amazon people, the drive of Ted Grant's boxing liturgies, and the vast compendium of knowledge, mundane, arcane, and scientific, that made Chloe such a valuable commodity. And that's what she was, she knew that. The only reason Flagg had conceded to her, given her the austere quarters she had, was because he found a value in her. She'd taken down every one of his highly trained Suicide Squad with non-lethal shots without blinking an eye, Dean's training fresh in her mind. She'd hacked into his system and permanently wrested control of his missile system from him, and had seamless control over Solomon Grundy, thanks to Zatanna.

Maybe she should send Zatanna to check on the Winchesters... she'd been the key of Fate's cryptic messages about Grundy - at least, Chloe thought so - and had used the Gold K concoction to fashion a spell binding Grundy to the elemental soup of that swamp. As long as Grundy wore that Gold K around his neck, Chloe could influence him however she needed to.

Her face crumbled in the mirror before blurring entirely, and Chloe's shoulders shook as emotion overtook her. This was what she was now. She took advantage of things that went bump in the night. She was torn between two friends who needed to help and the heroes of the world she's given her actual life to protect, with no way to escape the chasm below the razor wire she was walking. With every decision she made, Chloe felt like she had less and less to hold onto, to remind her why she was doing this, and that ultimately, she was making the best decision. At what point do your ends stop justifying your means, Chloe? She asked herself in the reflection. The dark circles under her eyes gave her a solid indication that her conscience had stopped being clear somewhere between meeting Dean and roping him into a plan that could've gotten him killed, putting his brother in danger.

"You're not God, you know."

The sharp pain in her temple coincided with the voice of someone she knew to be dead as of that morning and she whirled, facing her bed. The signs of Fate's manipulations had grown less subtle over the last few days, as if to ensure she'd press on, doggedly pursuing the impossible goal of saving everyone.

That didn't change the fact that Carter Hall was sitting casually at the edge of her bed, in jeans and his red sweater, brown leather jacket fitting him like a second skin. He looked alive, scruff and all, with those sharp blue eyes staring her down as if he'd seen right through her. But, she knew it wasn't him.

He'd died the night before. Icarus has flown too high... Fate's words in the middle of Slaughter Swamp echoed even as she felt a momentary wash of hope, of relief at the sight of someone familiar.

But, then he smiled. And Chloe knew. The warmth was dashed against icy defensive walls in an instant, and Chloe's body stiffened in response. "You're not Carter." She said evenly, swallowing and glancing up at the ceiling so she could avoid that gaze, steeling herself for a conversation with a doppelganger. "And I'm getting tired of more questions with no answers in sight, Nabu. You won't even tell me where they've taken the rest of the team. I'm not asking for a walkthrough, but the dungeon map would be nice."

He stood, hands tucked in his pockets as he walked closer to her, a towering sight like always. There had been the early days, when they'd first met the Justice Society, that Chloe had spent quiet patrols getting to know the Hawkman - much as he ever let anyone in. It was mostly listening to him and Oliver... Chloe swallowed, brushing thoughts of the archer away, pushing them deeper, burying them best she could. "I'm what you need right now." Carter smiled a little more, and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes tugged a little more at her memory. "Chloe, everyone has difficult decisions to make, and sometimes, the decisions we choose aren't the pretty ones. I shed blood as Hawkman. That never stopped you from seeing me as a hero."

She sighed, frustration and worry coloring the noise as she slipped around him, walking to her dresser. No more sleep this evening, it seemed. If Fate wouldn't let her sleep peacefully, then she wouldn't sleep at all. If she was even awake... The fact that he was there was yet another reminder to Chloe that since she'd met up with Dean in the swamp, the waking world and the dreaming world had a tendency to run together. "Okay, you need to stop. Like I said, you are not Carter, please stop playing with his memory and just be honest with me, Nabu." She turned to face him as she pulled her black blouse with a flourish. "And you using Carter is a low blow, he was Kent Nelson's friend." The venom in her voice didn't so much as make him flinch, but it did continue to feed her fire. "And Carter might've used a little more force than necessary, but that is not even in the same cosmic ballpark as me controlling a zombie. Grundy is more than just a monster!" Chloe's brow knit in concern, prostration. "You cannot expect me to take away someone's agency and be okay with that. This isn't what heroes do, Nabu."

"There are no easy answers to the questions you have, Chloe, but right now, you need to put aside your code, and follow the path in front of you." Carter's voice lowered into the growl she'd long since gotten used to as Hawkman. It was nostalgic, painful, and not going to work on her.

"I am willing to take his journey, but I need to know more." Chloe put the shirt laced between her fingers down onto the dresser. "I cannot put my ethics aside for this. This isn't just trying to gauge harm, you are blurring the lines between hero and villain and I'm afraid I won't be able to see it anymore." The anger gave way to the darker fears she tried to keep at bay. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was Fate's touch, but she couldn't keep them buried. "I am losing myself in this funhouse, and I'm starting to lose track of where the mirrors end and I begin." And there it was. She knew that was what she was afraid of, and the demure expression on Carter's face told her Fate knew it, too. And he didn't seem to care.

She knew she had to sacrifice her sanity once day. She'd just hoped she wouldn't become one of the bad guys first.

"Chloe, there's more going on and it will all be explained to you," Carter held up a hand. "When you need to know."

"And I am telling you that I need to know now!" Chloe pled, only for another sharp pain to strike her temple with the force of a railroad spike. She buckled, the world around her forgotten as the deep spasm spread right from her temple to her forehead. She reached blindly for support, her hands shakily finding the dresser, but her knees couldn't take her weight. Chloe fell to the ground in a ungainly mess, still gripping at the dresser as the throbbing threatened to swell over everything.

"You're not ready to know all of it, Chloe." Carter... she could still hear him, could feel his hand on her back, stroking, coaxing, even as she clutched at the corner of the dresser, her forehead resting there for support while her eyes went wide, pupils blown as she tried to work through the pain. There was no golden light of Fate to encompass her vision, to free her here. This was something else, a darker conviction from the god-like creature who'd placed a seed of himself deep in her psyche. "You must follow the Path."

She felt something wet across her lips. A quick flick of her tongue told her everything: she tasted iron. Blood. "Fate..." She gasped as another throb sent her reeling, unable to breathe. "What've you done to me?"

What is necessary, Chloe Sullivan. You have Chosen This Fate.

You must prepare for what is ahead.

The world spun around her. The dresser became the buoy by which she held onto as her vision swam like she was in choppy Atlantic seas. Vague thoughts of Diana's arms wrapped around her as she pulled Chloe free from the fishing net Epione and Clio had accidentally caught her in at sea drifted by. Her vision blurred once more, dissolving into black as she aimlessly tried to cling to consciousness.

At first, the words were syllables of a foreign tongue that had no meaning. And then, all at once, she understood.

"Give her room to breathe, stand back..."

She coughed, water spewing forth over her lips in an unpleasant way, salt burning her nostrils, throat, tongue and lips. The world was no longer rocking. The cyanide antidote had worked. She was alive... somehow.

Her eyes focused on a figure above her. Black hair in long waves spilled over the shoulders of a very tanned, athletic woman, looming over her. She could feel fingers against her cheek, as if coaxing her gently to wake. "You are safe, sister... But you must breathe. If you swallow more of the ocean, you will be ill."

She felt herself being pulled up, still coughing up saline, still disoriented, and all she could focus on was the sound of the gulls.

"Do you know your name?"

The coughs finally subsided. She panted, the pristine beach finally setting in as her sense drank in the location. "My name... is Chloe Sullivan." She muttered, only for the honest realization to fall over her. Her voice broke, and she whispered like a child. "And I'm dead..."

"Miss Sullivan?" The voice sounded miles away, and coincided with a powerfully nauseated lurch of her stomach that brought her back to the present. Chloe's eyes finally focused again, just in time for her to grapple for the small waste bin on the other side of the dresser. She heard someone call her name again, but it was completely ignored as she tossed her very unceremonious cookies and tried to orient herself once more.

When she finally managed to sit up and force herself back to her feet (the dresser was a lifesaver), the room was as empty as her stomach, no Carter in sight. Her head was now just a dull ache, not the throbbing spasms of the last... was it minutes? Hours?

Chloe looked over at her clock on the nightstand, the early morning glaring at her in red.

Hours, then.

She heard someone tinkering with her door lock, and after forcing bile and saliva back down with a thick shallow, she forced her voice to cooperate, sounding steady as a rock, even though she was still shaking. "I heard you the first time. Just getting dressed, gimme a minute."

"Oh, so you're not dead, that's good." Flagg.

Chloe knew he wouldn't have come to bother her unless it was important. Their initial conversations about mutual goals had left them both with a desire for their own spaces. It was a business arrangement, and she was glad for it. She didn't want friends, attachments...

Dean's face flickered before her eyes as she made it to the sink and quickly filled a cup of water, washing her mouth free of the acidic taste. Her eyes glanced up for a moment, intent on returning back to the faucet, but the flash of rust on her skin made her double-take. Dried blood crusted all along her upper lip.

Fate's touch had once saved her. Now, it seemed to be taking more away. Darkness and pain had begun to take place of light and restoration.

Before the real concern could set in, Chloe washed her face again and quickly dressed, finding that shirt on the floor near her bed. After another moment to compose herself, to put on the persona that Watchtower had crafted, honed by the Amazon blade and set into place by an uppercut, she strode to her door and opened it, prepared with a quip.

Of course, that died on her lips when he beat her to the punch. Three words. Three words that put her thoughts of Fate, of Dean and Sam, of everything, aside.

"We found them."

422:01:45.01

There is... a house... in New Orleans... They call the Rising Sun...

She's mine, she's mine, she's mine...

You're not hallucinating, Oliver, and you're not insane. Trust me.

One, two, blood taboo

Inscribed upon the purest jewel

And it's been... the ruin... of many a poor boy... and God... I know... I'm one...

We weren't cruising for chicks when we ran into you, sister. We were already out here. Hunting.

Hunting for what?

Ghosts.

I guess that's the true test of believing in someone - knowing that their lies are there to protect you. It's not really trust if you ask someone to explain themselves.

Three, four, ichor pour

Earth's Child now a whore

My mother was a trader... She sewed my new blue jeans...

I'm sorry, Molly. 15 years ago, you and your husband hit Jonah Greeley with your car. David survived.

Molly, you don't belong here. Haven't you suffered long enough? It's time. It's time to go.

You think she's really going to a better place?

I hope so.

I guess we'll never know. Not until we take the plunge ourselves, huh?

Five, six, The River Styx

The Righteous Man to be transfixed

My father was a gambling man... down in New Orleans...

Why? Why is it my job to save these people? Why do I have to be some kind of hero? What about us? Mom's not supposed to live? Sammy's not supposed to get married? Why do we have to sacrifice everything, Dad?

Ava.

You've been gone for five months. My brother and I have been looking for you everywhere.

You should have more faith in your friends, Clark. I came here to help you. Wherever the hell this is.

And dance on bodies all devoid

As Omega unites, all souls destroyed

Oh, mother... tell your children... not to do what I have done

I'm gonna take care of you. I'm gonna take you care of you. I've got you.

Darkseid's Apokolips. Evil in its purest form - the heart of human nature, obscured over time as something to be cast away rather than embraced. Hades, Kali - even the word "Lucifer" is an old Latin phrase meaning "morning star," "bringer of light."

But before the end of days, his rapture will be the only salvation.

Whatever you do, you will always end up here. Whatever choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up—here. I win. So, I win.

You're wrong.

See you in five years, Dean.

Spend your lives in sin and misery... in the House of the Rising Sun.

You cannot save them all, Chloe Sullivan. You have chosen your Fate.

421:23:03.57

Chloe's eyes shot open as she jostled awake, a momentary flash of gold in the dark. Where the hell was she? For a long, mortifying moment, Chloe's mind was still back there, in a murky place of thunderstorms and no rain, of white suits and the darkness approaching.

Oliver stirred beside her, pulling her closer into his arms, nuzzling his face into her neck before settling once more.

Chloe relaxed into the warm contact she'd been craving for months now. She was safe. In Watchtower. She was still wrapped up in sheets and Oliver's arms on the floor. She had saved them, just like Fate had promised her. Swallowing, she laid back against Oliver and tried to even out her breathing. It was almost impossible to believe that just yesterday, she'd been hacking through government systems in a desperate attempt to save the lives of everyone she'd come to think of as her family. But, they'd done it. Flagg's team had performed quite admirably.

So why did Dean's face flicker past and set her on edge all over again? There was no pain with the dream, but she'd seen too much to process. She could only recall bits and pieces, images without sound, words with no real meaning. And an ice cold weight of a terror unspoken, something dark, that had touched her in ways that frightened her. It was taunting her, just out of reach.

But, it was loss. Loss ate at her, an empty maw in her chest while she stared at the room ahead of her. Sam's face flickered past, stunned and frozen, and she blinked, shuddering as that fear washed over her again. Why couldn't she remember the dream? What was Fate trying to tell her?

Chloe shifted in the makeshift bed, and Oliver did the same, settling on his back, completely out. He was exhausted, in more than one way, but at least he was safe. She rolled over to face him in the darkness, her fingers caressing his jawline as she drank in how relaxed he finally seemed. Her worries melted as she let the world around her fade away. Oliver had a tendency to do that for her. When she was with him, there were no labels, there were no expectations, it just... was. Months of searching and running, months of wondering if the next day would mean her last, all for the hopes of saving him and her family... And he was here.

Chloe sighed, resting her head on his chest, hearing the gentle thump-thump of his heartbeat in her ear. Her arms slipped around his waist a bit, hugging him best she could as she let herself be swallowed in warmth and comfort. Her eyes drifted closed, calm finally sweeping over her as she heard his breathing, and thought of how they'd spent the evening wrapped in each other's arms, not speaking, just sensing. She'd needed it. An experience completely physical and at the same time, emotional.

"You plan on sticking around this time?"

She tried to ignore the way her heart screamed at the absolute unfairness of what Fate was doing to her. "Yeah."

And just like that, the house of cards was swept over.

Chloe pulled away, her sad eyes drawn to that serene face as he slept again. This wasn't fair. This wasn't comfort. This was the lie.

Would you sacrifice your sanity to save the Archer?

You will lose Oliver.

Chloe slipped out of the sheets and stood, grabbing one of the blankets they'd since kicked off, wrapping it around her body with its nicks and scars like anyone else's. Fate's words followed her even when she earnestly tried to forget them. This life she had right now was a lie and she knew it. Fate had shown her so much leading up to the rescue, and then stopped focusing on Oliver, instead choosing to give her visions and words she couldn't decipher or remember.

As Chloe made her way up the stairs to her second floor so she could watch the skyline through the ocular window, she found her thoughts drifting to Kent Nelson in his last days. Trapped in his own mind, like her mother, whispered ramblings interspersed with profound knowledge, useful only when Nabu took control.

And that was exactly where she was headed.

Taking a seat in one of her comfortable chairs, she curled up and watched as a news helicopter crossed her line of sight. The city was dangerous. Metropolis was no friend to its heroes, not right now. Not with Oliver wanted and Carter's death covered up. The Darkness... it was spreading across the city, faster and faster.

They were running out of time.

The Path is dangerous.

She sighed, shaking away thoughts of the words she could remember. Fate was of absolutely no help in the middle of the night. Especially when her dreams didn't seem to be focused on Oliver or the oncoming Darkness, but rather Dean and Sam. Something headed their way that she didn't understand and couldn't recall.

She turned her gaze from the window, her eyes instead falling to one of her desks. Desks were all over this place, and she still knew where every single item was kept. So, she was quite aware that one of her burn phones was in the second drawer from the bottom on the left-hand side of that desk.

After a moment's consideration, she stood and made her way over, grabbing the phone from the drawer - of course it hadn't been moved - and dialing a number she'd since committed to memory. With each ring on the other end, Chloe sank down into the desk chair beside her as her heart started to pound. Just a few days ago, she'd been ready to run after Dean, to find out if he and Sam were all right, but then plans had been derailed, she'd...

"'Lo?"

Chloe never answered, even if Dean certainly sounded alive and awake. She hung up and held the phone firmly in both her hands, tucking them into the covers on her lap, as if a child caught stealing candy.

She couldn't keep doing this. She had one foot in Hunting and one foot in Watchtower.

One hand on Oliver, and one hand straying closer to...

Chloe glanced up at the window, watching another helicopter pass by.

She was starting to understand why Fate could drive one to insanity. Impossible choices, and someone would get hurt.

One day, Chloe would lose someone. Fate told her it was Oliver...

So why did she feel like she was already losing the Winchesters?

The Path is Dangerous.

Chosen Girl, you must protect them at all costs.

You have Chosen your Fate, Chloe Sullivan. And theirs.