Stealing computer files one week and investigating a murder the next. Chloe mused as she ducked under the police tape. At least my life is never boring. Especially not when her new boss, Lex, sent her to investigate murders all the way on the state border.
She shook her head, picking her way into the house. If it weren't for the police tape surrounding the split-level home, she never would have guessed such a gruesome murder had occurred inside. Chopped up like sushi. Gross. Chloe thought, standing in the entryway.
She'd investigated and even met plenty of people who could have been spokesmen for inmates of Belle Reeve, but no matter how many mentally unstable people she learned about, she still cringed at the depth of human evil. Meteor rocks or not, people are crazy.
For the most part, the house looked normal. Pictures of the murdered couple hung across one wall in the living room, and the other wall held a flat screen TV. Chloe whistled softly at the size of the screen, mentally adding burglary to the list of possible motives.
She made her way down the hallway, careful to not run into anything and leave her presence. She was pretty sure the police had already swept the area, but she didn't need to leave behind any trace of herself, incase they wanted another run-through.
As she reached the door to what she assumed was the bedroom, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up in anticipation. This was one part of investigating she both loved and despised. The anticipation of a story was intoxicatingly exciting, but it also sent chills down her spin. And not the good kind.
Again, she ducked under a new set of police tape and walked into the bedroom. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the blood-speckled carpet and she cringed, pulling her gaze away. The blood would be last on her list of things to investigate. Right now, she needed to search the room for clues the police had missed— or failed to fill her in on. She had learned years before that the police weren't necessarily bad at investigating a crime scene. It was more the fact that they preferred not to tell reporters everything they found.
So, she was forced to find the evidence herself.
The chills picked up as she stepped towards the bed, giving her pause. She wasn't so seasoned that a murder story wouldn't put her on edge, but what she was feeling wasn't nerves.
She turned, sensing something behind her.
"Oh crap…"
Five hours earlier…
"The women in this town are so friendly," Dean announced, as he entered the hotel. He wagged his eyebrows at Sam and dumped his bag of groceries on the table.
"Good to know," Sam replied, although he couldn't help but smirk at Dean's expression.
Dean shrugged out of his coat and tossed it on his bed. "So, did you figure out more on the murder victims?"
"Yeah, some." Sam watched as Dean pulled the groceries out of the bag and placed them along the counter, then turned back to his information. "Adam and Lacy Peterson. Married in 2004, no kids, no pets, no debt." Sam glanced up from the computer screen, making sure his brother was paying attention.
"They sound exciting."
"Yeah." Sam paused as Dean moved to sit next to him. Reading over the information Sam had printed off. "I've already checked out the house and the family. No history of any murders anywhere."
Dean looked at Sam. "So, cursed object?"
Sam nodded. "I think so."
"Brings back good times, eh Sammy?" Dean teased, leaning back in his chair.
Sam rolled his eyes, ignoring his brother's comment. He really didn't want to talk about Sarah. Especially not with Dean. "So, we should probably check out the house."
Dean nodded, smirking at Sam's sidestep of his question. "Yeah, let's head out tonight."
Chloe barely allowed herself a moment of frozen fear, before she spun on her heal and fled the room, mentally cursing as she ducked under the police tape. Ghost? What was a ghost doing in 'Pleasantville'?
This was supposed to be a psychotic murder mystery, not a supernatural one.
Less thinking, more running, Sullivan. Chloe silently berated as she hurried to the front door. The chills she'd felt earlier were a hundred times as strong, and she shivered as she reached for the door handle.
"No!" she cried, as the door refused to move. "Help!"
She turned and screamed. The pale figure of a man was hovering at the other end of the entryway as if waiting for her to move. The ax in its hand swung gently in anticipation.
I'm gonna die. She realized, as she ducked into the living room, looking for anything she could use as a weapon. Ghost, Chloe. Means you can't hit it.
Without meaning too, she trapped herself against a wall, turning around to see the ghost appear in front of her. It raised its ax and she distantly thought to scream for Clark, but she couldn't get her voice to work anymore. Instead, she flinched, waiting for the pain.
Before it could come, she heard the sound of splintering wood and opened her eyes in time to see a dark figure burst into the room.
"Duck!" it ordered, and she was all too happy to comply, dropping to the floor in a heap.
A shot rang out and she shrieked, before realizing the ghost had disappeared. What the…
"Come on," the same voice ordered. A hand grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the house without giving her a chance to argue.
Once she was outside, she dropped to her knees, catching her breath as if she'd just run a marathon. I wonder if this is what the Winchesters deal with— she stopped mid-thought, something finally connecting.
"Dean?" she asked, looking up from her spot in the grass. The yard was empty, she was alone. "Dean!" she called, knowing she hadn't imagined him.
She stood, moving to look through the front door. She could hear noise inside, but couldn't make out specific voices. A moment later, the older Winchester came running out the front door with his brother in tow.
"Dean? Sam? Are you guys okay?" As soon as the question left her mouth she knew sounded stupid, but she couldn't help it.
Dean looked up and for the second time that night Chloe felt chills. She'd seen Dean glare before, but the look he was giving her made her want to cry. Instead of answering, he shot Sam a look then moved past them to the Impala.
Chloe watched him go, wondering what she'd done wrong. Wasn't this the part where she thanked them profusely and he gloated about how good he was?
"Sam?" she asked carefully, afraid the younger brother might give her the same cold treatment.
Sam met her gaze briefly, then looked back at the Impala and Dean. "Follow us," he said.
"She messed up our investigation!" Dean slammed his hand against his steering wheel as he drove back to the hotel. He had to get all his physical anger out of the way, because he had a feeling he was going to be tempted to smack Chloe over the head next time he saw her. How could she have been so stupid?
"That's not why you're mad," Sam stated.
"Yeah? Then why am I mad Sam?"
"Because Chloe almost got hurt."
"And she screwed up our investigation. Instead of going in and figuring this murder out we had to save her ass first," Dean argued, pulling up to their hotel.
"Whatever, dude," Sam said as he stepped out of the Impala.
Chloe pulled into the spot next to them, but Dean ignored her, moving to unlock their room. Sam could play the good-guy tonight, because there was no way Dean was going to. As soon as he walked into the room, he tossed his keys and coat on the nearest surface and headed for the bathroom. A small part of him knew he was just prolonging the inevitable, but he didn't care.
"Have a seat," Sam said as he and Chloe walked in.
Dean splashed his face with cold water, less in an attempt to cool-off and more to stay calm. He knew if he was too on-edge Chloe would bolt before he could explain anything to her. So stupid! He thought once again, before glaring at his reflection and walking out of the bathroom.
Chloe looked up hesitantly when Dean approached. Sam caught his gaze, silently warning him to go easy. Yeah, yeah.
"What were you doing there?" he asked finally, his tone stressed as he resisted the urge to yell.
"Investigating the murder for a story."
"At night?"
"Yeah." Chloe suddenly looked annoyed as if she'd realized she was about to be lectured. It was obvious she wasn't one to take criticism well.
"And you didn't think it might be, dangerous?" Dean's voice rose at the last word, his annoyance rearing it's ugly head.
Chloe stood. "Of course, but it's my job. Most of the stories I investigate are dangerous."
"Then get a different job."
"Why? I can handle the danger." Chloe crossed her arms glaring at him defiantly.
Dean glared back. "Like you handled it tonight?" he demanded, mockingly.
Chloe's cheeks reddened, but Dean guessed it was more anger than embarrassment. "I had it under control."
"Oh really? That's not what it looked like from where I was."
"Then get your eyes checked."
"Don't put yourself in danger."
"Like you care!" Chloe snapped. Her face fell as soon as the words left her mouth.
"Of course I do." Dean looked over at his brother who was watching the exchange hesitantly. Why he hadn't stepped in yet was beyond Dean. "I—we," he amended, gesturing to Sam, "don't want anything to happen to you."
"Well you've got a funny way of showing it."
"You mean saving your ass wasn't good enough for ya?"
"You know what? I don't need this." Chloe grabbed her bag from the floor and turned to the door. As she opened it, she turned to the younger sibling. "Goodnight, Sam."
"Chloe— " Sam started, but it was half-hearted and she was out the door before he could say more.
He turned and glared at Dean.
"Nice going."
Sam shook his head as he walked into the Daily Planet office. Why was it that he always had to clean up Dean's messes? He'd spent a good chunk of the previous night, calming Dean down and getting him to remember that it hadn't been all that long ago when he'd liked Chloe enough to confess his deal to her. That she was same girl they had gotten into the habit of calling, however irregularly, to check-up on and connect with someone outside the hunting world.
He understood Dean's annoyance. Under any other circumstance, Sam would have been just as annoyed. But of all the people they'd met, Chloe was one of the few non-hunters who actually spoke the truth when she said she could take care of herself. Sam had no doubt that she was resourceful enough to get herself out of most dangerous situations.
Too bad Dean had been too irritated to think like Sam had. All Dean had seen was Chloe in over her head facing down a ghost and his protectiveness had gone into overdrive. Unfortunately, his protectiveness could come off as condescending sometimes.
At least he means well. Sam thought, spotting the blonde reporter.
"Hey Sam," Chloe greeted without looking up. Her face was trained on the computer screen in front of her, obviously in the middle of something important.
"Hi," Sam said, watching in fascination as she typed. The look on her face rivaled the ones he and Dean wore when concentrating on a hunt.
"So, did Dean send you or are you playing peace maker by your own choice?" She finally pulled away from the computer with a smile, silently letting him know she was in a much better mood than the night before.
"Both, actually."
Chloe raised an eyebrow. "Really? Dean sent you?"
"We need to talk and Dean didn't want to leave the hotel."
"Oh." Chloe nodded, looking slightly disappointed as if she'd been hoping for an apology. "Let me save this and I'll head out with you."
"Chloe…" Sam started, touching her shoulder.
She smiled. "I know. He means well, right?"
"Completely."
Dean paused mid-pace as the hotel door opened, and Sam and Chloe walked in. His guard went up as soon as he saw the reporter. In response, she hesitated at the door. Neither spoke for a moment, Sam looking between the two of them like a tennis match.
Dean really hated moments like this. There was no way he was going to apologize, but he knew if he didn't say anything she'd get angry again. Instead he gave the woman in front of him a small smile, briefly wondering if he was going to regret this decision later. "What do you know about ghosts?" he asked carefully.
Chloe shrugged. "Not much, unfortunately."
Dean looked at his brother who nodded with understanding. "Want to learn more?"
The responding smile melted the remaining unease he felt as he and Sam told her all they knew about repelling spirits. If he had anything to say about it, she'd never need to use the information, but at least next time she could protect herself— incase he wasn't around.
To Be Continued…