Chapter Three

"Whoever said nothing is impossible...obviously never tried slamming a revolving door. I tried it...but it landed on my fingers. And I swore. A lot."

Smallville High

The Torch

"Mm..." Chloe sighs, sitting on the desk that Clark had just sat her on. Her lips slightly swollen from the kisses that Clark had given her, her hair all disheveled and her face is flushed. But now she is watching Clark and his fine looking backside move about the Torch office...what he is looking for, she doesn't know, but then...nothing ever stops Chloe from asking anything. "What are you looking for?"

"The article you wrote." Clark says, his voice not so preoccupied with looking for the paper, but preoccupied with the fact that the most beautiful girl - who is his girlfriend - is sitting on a desk looking even more beautiful and he's looking for a stinking article? What the fudge is wrong with him?

"The one about the Jane Doe and the attacks?" Chloe says, straightening herself out and hopping off the desk. So much for 'Make Out'. Chloe sighs, ah well, maybe some other time.

"Chloe.." Clark says, turning to look at her; his face momentarily forms a frown when he see's her all straightened up. Although her hair is still a bit- lack of a better term -wild. "Where is it?"

"Kwan." She says, rolling her eyes and running a hand through her short blond locks. He looks at her with narrowed eyes, and she takes a breath before she explains. "He has a bad habit of looking over my shoulder when I write the articles for the paper."

"So where is it?" Clark asks, cocking his head to the side and keeping his eyes narrowed. Again, the blond in front of him sighs and crosses her arms in front of her chest. "Chloe?"

"He said I couldn't put it in the paper."

"Told you." Clark says with a smile, she playfully slaps him and shakes her head. "Shut up, Clark. Jeez...don't flaunt that you're right." Clark laughs.

"So what'd you do with it?"

"My folder in my binder...why? What do you-"

"I think there's more to the story." That picques her interests of journalistic writing. "What-"

"I don't think she was killed by anything that...we've known of before." Chloe shakes her head, running both her hands over face and breathing deeply.

"The police said she was murdered-"

"Chloe," Clark says, his blue eyes shining grimly, "did you fully understand the details of the body? Her limbs were ripped apart, her body was shredded violently-"

"That's not what the report said ...it..er didn't say it that way-"

"Chloe, the point is, how many people have the strength to rip off human limbs without something to help them do it? And the claw marks on her torso...what do you make of that?"

She bites her lip, shaking her head so fast that her blond curls are bouncing against her skin. "That doesn't make sense...I admit that, but the police say-"

"I want the article, Chloe." Clark says, "I'm going to investigate myself."

WHAT?!

"Clark! No..I don't want you hurt-"

"I won't be hurt, Chloe." Clark says, his lips in a smirk. Why the hell is he smirking? "I don't get hurt that easily."

"Clark-" he kisses her lips chastely, pulling away quickly, he stares her in the eyes.

"I'll meet you at the Talon."

Downtown

Hotel room 12B

"Okay that's it." Dean says, stretching out across the bed. "I'm done." Sam rolls his eyes, briefly looking up from his laptop and staring at his brother before looking back the screen.

"Did you get any research done?"

"Mm.."

"Dean." Sam says with exasperation, rolling his eyes and shaking his head at the screen. "Do your half of the research-"

"Sam..." Dean whines, yeah he's hungry. "I'm hungry." How'd I know that? Sam thinks, shaking his head a smirk crawls over his face.

"We can eat after-"

"I'm going to that 'Talon' place." Sam shakes his head and looks at his brother, and he's the oldest? Come on, Sam is more the oldest ...at least he's not the one whining and saying 'I want food'...

Bugger. "Dean...the Talon is like a block away-"

"it's a small town Sammy." Dean says, hopping off the bed and slugging on his leather jacket. Popping the collar. "Lana might be there..."

Oh boy, "Dean, you hardly know this girl-"

"And you think that 'Jeremy Bond' might be able to get real close to her.." he waggles his brows at the words 'real close' and smirks. "Besides, I heard the food there is good."

"Dean-"

"Come on Sammy." He walks out the door, the keys to the impala in his hand; he'd walk, but the Talon isn't exactly close to the hotel. Then again, the hotel is on the farthest outskirts of Smallville. Sighing, Sam gets up and folds his laptop closed, putting it in his book bag and slinging it over his shoulder before walking out to the impala.

The Talon

3:45pm

So...Kent is planning on playing police, huh? He'd rather have fun looking at clues that point to the death of some chick than lay that hot blond friend of his? Huh...pansy. "Hey," calls the barista, "Jason, you going to order something or what?"

He sighs, looking at the menu on the wall and then at the red-headed barista chick, he smiles charmingly, "I'm uh...I'll just have a mocha. Whipped." She nods, and turns toward the coffee machine. He rolls his eyes and look around. The Talon is half empty, it's only a quarter to four...huh, maybe the Beanery is stealing the customers.

Vaguely, the bell above the door chimes- on a busy day no one would be able to hear it, but this isn't a busy day. Jason looks over his shoulder, seeing Lex Luthor come in and flop down on his usual seat by the window that looks over the street, and before he can look away a strange, chubby, flamboyant looking male- middle aged -comes in. His eyes scanning the place, his left hand curled around something that Jason guesses only he see's thus he's holding it.

Probably some loon that escaped a nursing home. He scoffs, turning his focus on the barista making his mocha. Five minutes later, "Mr Dean Winchester." Jason stiffens, turning to look at the same guy who had just entered; now standing next to him and ...is he smirking? Or grinning? It's hard to tell...

"Uh," He says, "I'm not on one named Winchester." The man laughs, his fingers petting something invisible at his side. Freak.

"Thought you would evade me, huh, Winchester?" Okay, this guy is delusional.

"I'm not-"

The man chuckles, "I'm aware, but you are his doppleganger."

"His what? Who? Huh?" Jason says, looking at him as if he were crazy, but the man doesn't explain further instead he smiles like a creepy, pedophilic grandfather and holds out his hand.

"friends call me Crowley." Jason looks at his hand, then at the man's chubby face; who shakes his head. "I won't bite. I just want to talk."

"Uh.." Jason- against all better judgement- takes the man's, Crowley's, hand. "I'm Jason. Jason Teague."

"Well," Crowley smiles, there's something not right about this guy, Jason can't pin it...but, he doesn't know, he just feels that there's nothing right about this man. "How would you like to be an actor for at least...until I say 'game over'?"

Jason looks at him, his brows knitting together as he thinks about it; he takes a drink of his mocha as it had arrived. "I'd say...what's in it for me?"

Crowley smiles devilishly, raising his brows and petting his invisible creature.

He was going to get Dean Winchester, and this fool is going to help do it. Whether he knows he's helping a demon from hell or not.