It Takes Two
Author:
Jett
Fandom(s): Supernatural/Smallville (crossover)
Rating: Currently T (moving to M)
Pairing: Sam Winchester/Clark Kent - which means SLASH
Spoilers: All aired eps of Supernatural and Smallville (just in case).
Feedback:If you'd be kind enough.
Notes: Because there isn't enough Sam/Clark out there. Also, if slash is not your cuppa, please to be moving on. Thank you.

It Takes Two - Chapter 2
by Jett

Sam pushes up. He manages to get his face and torso off the concrete. The street does a small wobble, and Sam waits until his vision clears before he tries to stand. Brushing street remains from his pants, he turns back to the building. He's back in work mode; the other weirdness can wait. Which means there's one thing on his mind: he has to get the Colt.


The demon isn't stupid. Arrogant and depraved, yes, but when Sam gets to the penthouse, there's no sign of him. Sam knows the demon, knows him well enough to guess he's probably out looking for another victim. Sam knows the demon won't stop till he's stopped, and if Sam has to do it all by his lonesome, so be it.

Sam sees the Colt right where it fell. He picks up the weapon. He tucks the Colt into the back of his waistband, and that's when he hears it: there's someone else in the apartment. Maybe the demon's no so smart after all. Sam moves toward the sound.

The Colt's out and at the ready as Sam navigates first one room, then another. He almost loses the gun a second time when he sees him. "You?!"

The dark-haired maybe-flies man stares him dead in the face, green eyes open, innocent.

Forearm up, Sam slams him into the wall.

Sam presses his arm harder against Maybe-Flies' throat. He points the Colt at his temple. "Who are you?" Sam's voice is all bass. It's something he learned while hunting. If you want someone (or something) to pay attention, your voice has to rumble like you mean it.

Instead of cowering, his savior looks amused.

Sam considers. It's an odd reaction to someone's arm on your neck and an odder reaction still to a gun poised to end you. "I'm not gonna wait all day!"

Maybe-Flies coughs. "You're making me nervous," he says finally.

He doesn't sound nervous to Sam. At. All. "I'm... I'm..." Sam can't finish the sentence. He's heard a lot of crazy things in his life, but this is going right on the Top Ten list. Maybe-Flies isn't trying to get away. Which means... Sam isn't sure.

Sam regards him for a moment, then lowers the gun. He's seen a lot a demons, but he's never see one who saved people Saran wrapped in a blue t-shirt like this guy. Yeah, there's a red jacket and jeans, but: 1. the color's a poor choice for a mayhem maker; that shirt isn't hiding anything. Somebody's definitely been hitting the gym. Hard. "Who are you, and why are you here?"

"My name is Clark Kent." Clark steps away from the wall and moves to more open territory. "I was just passing by and I heard screams."

"BULLSHIT!" says Sam because yeah, the meter nearly broke on that one (although the vehemence level is higher than Sam intends).

Sam levels the gun.

Clark's finger is up instantly. It goes to the gun barrel and pushes it gently in a non-threatening direction. "I had a hunch," says Clark tentatively.

"A hunch?" Clark's a clumsy dancer, and Sam's not in the mood. Still, he's not sure why, but he trusts him. The trust makes Sam both uncomfortable and comforted. It's like he isn't in control, but it's okay. Sort of.

The instant trust makes Sam wonder who - what - he's dealing with. "It's a good thing," says Sam, playing along. "I came too close to being a stain and a headline."

Sam's about to walk away when he does indeed walk away. Three long strides and he's halfway across the room. He's wasted enough time. He has to find the demon. Still... There's something about Clark.

Sam doesn't look back. "I need to know," he says, walking to the door. "What you are. Why you were here, and how you did it."

"Did what?"

Sam shakes his head. More innocence. More bullshit. "Flew," says Sam.

"People don't fly."

"Maybe you're not people." With that, Sam's back on the job.