Thank you so much Shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod for your patience and care as a beta and VegasGranny and Ncsupnatfan for being so supportive as pre-readers.

Chapter Seventeen

Mary didn't want to wake Sam to go back to Clark when it was time, but she knew he would be angry if she didn't, so she let herself into his and Dean's room and approached the second bed where her youngest son lay.

He was curled under the blanket Dean had covered him with when Sam had collapsed fully clothed onto the bed the moment he got into the room. He looked different when he slept. The lines of stress on his brow faded and he was the son she'd known before the fire again. It was possible to believe he was the same man that was heading back to his life at Stanford with the woman he loved, the life he had without a demon hunting him and no psychic powers to train with the aggravating man they were about to go back to.

She shook his shoulder gently and said his name. His eyes cracked open, not immediately fully aware, and he looked confused. "Mom?"

She smiled at him. "Hey, honey. How are you feeling?"

She saw the memories rushed back in at him, and she knew from the way he pressed a hand to his forehead that the pain hadn't gone yet, but he said, "I'm fine," and pushed himself upright. "Is it time already?"

"Yes. Do you need more painkillers before we go?"

He shook his head and she moved back and he climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom. He clicked the door closed behind him and she folded the blanket and put it back on Dean's bed ready for the night.

She heard the sound of running water and Sam opened the bathroom and spoke thickly around the toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. "Did you read the journal?"

"I did," she replied. "There wasn't a lot of detail. He didn't say how he made the gun or bullets."

Sam frowned. "It was sage, I think."

Something fluttered in Mary's chest. "You saw him making it?"

"Not the gun, but I saw him doing something with the bullets. There was sage, something else, and I think it was holy water. He used Latin, too."

Mary beamed at him. "This is great. There aren't many bullets left for the gun. If we can make more…" The thought of what they could achieve with the Colt as their weapon was dizzying. They would be unstoppable. They could kill anything they came across.

Sam went back into the bathroom and she heard him spitting into the basin and then running water again. He came back into the bedroom wiping a hand over his face. She saw, with a wave of fondness for her son, that there was still a smear of toothpaste on his chin. He looked so young and innocent, as if the threat that hung over them all had never touched his life.

"Try again, honey," she said with a laugh, "You've still got half a tube of toothpaste on your face."

Sam went into the bathroom, groaned, and then she heard him washing his face. When he came out, the toothpaste was gone as was the look of innocence. He smiled at her though and said, "Better?"

She walked to him and touched his warm cheek. "Much."

Sam patted her hand and said, "We better get going then. Clark doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"What's he like to work with?" Mary asked. "Does he give you a hard time?"

Sam shook his head. "No. He's different without anyone else there. He's tough and pushes me, but it's for a reason and it gets results. I can do much more now."

"What can you do?" Mary asked curiously.

Sam opened his mouth and then hesitated, a frown marring his brow. "Let's get Dean."

Mary sighed. She wished Sam would be open with her. Dean had explained what he did with the book, and she knew about the visions, but she wanted to know what else Sam could do. She didn't understand his reticence. Surely, he knew there was nothing he could do that would make her love him any less. She may be scared of these powers, but that was because of what they could do to him if he fought and the fact they hurt him. Nothing he could do was going to bother her. He was always going to be her son, and she would love him unconditionally.

She would find a way to show him that, to let him know he could be open with her.

Sam pulled on his coat and then left the room, closing the door behind Mary as she exited, and knocked on the door to her room.

Dean came out and asked, "We ready?" making no effort to hide the fact he wasn't happy.

"Yeah," Sam said.

They walked around the motel block to the room that faced onto a smaller parking lot and Sam knocked on the door of Clark's room. It was opened and Clark stepped back to let them in and then swung the door shut. The bang made Sam wince.

Clark dropped into a chair at the table and Mary sat in the other chair, leaving Sam and Dean the bed. The couch would have been a better spot to sit, but it was covered with Clark's leather jacket, a pillow, and a blanket. It looked as though he had been sleeping there again.

"You came back," he said with satisfaction.

"I said we would," Sam pointed out.

"Yeah, and I trust you, but the rest of your family I don't know. I thought maybe they'd try to bundle you off while you were unconscious. How's the head by the way?"

Sam ignored the question and said, "You can trust them, too. They don't lie."

Clark smirked and his eyes fell on Mary. She knew he couldn't read her mind, but something in the way he was looking at her made her think he still knew more than she wanted him to.

Tense as a coiled spring, though his voice was civil, Dean asked, "Why do you want the Colt?"

Clark cracked his knuckles distractedly and said, "I didn't know it was real until today, or I'd have found it already. I thought it was a myth. But now I need it to kill a demon."

"What demon?" Sam asked, and when Clark didn't answer he said, "Complete honesty, Clark," pointedly.

Clark rubbed his chin and nodded. "Okay. I'll tell you. But I want to know your story first. What's the deal with the demon you want to kill?"

"It's the one coming for me," Sam said.

"I figured that much. I want to know the complete story."

Sam glanced at Mary and she smiled reassuringly at him. "I'll do it," she said.

"Mom…" Dean's voice was a warning.

"We have to tell him, Dean," Sam said. "This is important."

"It really is," Clark said, shooting Dean a wink. "Sam told me some, but I want to know the story from the beginning. Tell me everything."

Mary took a deep breath and began, speaking into the silent room with the rapt attention of everyone on her. "On the night Sam turned six-months-old, the demon came to our home. I heard John shouting and I followed his voice to the nursery. There was a demon in there. He disappeared almost as soon as I saw him, but he was still there somehow as he was the one that killed my husband, John. John was pinned to the ceiling, bleeding from his stomach. Before I could even say a word, the fire started. It came from John and spread over the ceiling."

Dean winced and Sam was staring down at his shaking hands. As she reached for him, Dean bumped Sam with his shoulder, making his brother look up, revealing haunted eyes that weren't softened by the forced smile on his lips or words, "I'm fine."

"So the demon killed your husband," Clark said thoughtfully. "But it left you and Sam alive."

"Yes," Mary said.

"And you were no threat to it," Clark said, speaking to himself.

"None," Mary agreed, her heart pounding.

It was true that she was no threat to the demon, no reason for it to flee and leave her alive, but there was still a reason. Her deal was made. It had entry to her home, and she had lived because she hadn't interrupted, but John had and so had been killed.

"And you don't know why it came?"

"No," Dean said angrily, unknowingly saving her from a lie. "We think it was for Sam because his girlfriend was killed, too, but we don't know."

Clark stared at Sam for a moment and said, "And you think he wants Sam because he's psychic."

"Yes," Mary said quietly.

"But that makes no sense," Clark said. "There are dozens of psychics in the states alone. God knows how many in the world. And it's not like a demon is geographically limited. Some are untrained, like Sam was, but there are a lot more that have honed their gift. I'm not the most powerful I've heard of. Any one of them would be a better choice for a demon than a baby. Sam is powerful, maybe more than me one day, but there are still stronger than us out there. Why choose Sam?"

"We don't know," Dean said, his fingers tapping an impatient rhythm on his knee. "But it did, so we need to stop it. We need the Colt for that. Why do you want it?"

"Who did you lose?" Sam asked, and when Clark hesitated, he said, "No more deal. Complete honesty."

"Does that go both ways for you, too? If I tell my story, will you show them?"

Sam nodded.

"Good." Clark drew a deep breath and said. "It's kinda like your stories. I lost someone I loved too, but she wasn't killed."

"What happened?" Sam asked quietly.

Clark's expression darkened. "Something worse than just being killed…"

xXx

Ruby swung her hands between them as they walked along the street. "Pink," she said decisively.

Clark snorted. "I am not wearing pink."

"You have to," she said. "I'll find a nice soft shade. It won't be garish,"

"It will still be pink." Clark pulled her to a stop and kissed her on the lips. "I love you, I want to marry you and I want to do it in front of all our friends and family, but I am not wearing a pink cummerbund while I do it."

Ruby pulled back. "What happened to you giving me anything I needed."

"You don't need me in pink," Clark said.

Ruby pouted. "You'd look so good though."

"I'd look ridiculous. No." He pushed her long blonde hair behind her ears and stroked her cheek. "Let's talk navy." He ran his hands down her face to her neck. "Or green."

Ruby shivered as he trailed his fingers down her throat and said, "Pale green?"

"I was thinking more forest, but I will wear pale green if it makes you happy."

She grinned and caught his hand as it reached her collarbone. "Later, stud. Let's get home. It's cold."

Clark laughed. "I told you it would be. You wanted to wear the dress."

"Because you told me I look good in it."

"You do," Clark said, squeezing her hand as they started off along the sidewalk toward their apartment again. "You were the most beautiful woman in the room."

She smiled, color flushing her cheeks. "Don't let the partners hear you saying that. Those other women were their wives. They'll never give you the job if they know you don't think they're prettier than me."

Clark grinned. "I think I'll make out okay anyway."

"Another of your feelings?" she teased.

"Yep. One of those."

The only secret Clark had from the woman he loved was his gift. He didn't practice his powers, he hadn't since he was eighteen, but he could still sense things that normal people couldn't, and he'd seen the connections made between him and the partners of Stanley and Gaines Law. He thought he was going to get a call the next day with the job offer he'd been hoping for.

He'd decided when he drove away from his grandparents' home the day he left for Harvard that he was going to be normal, that he would leave behind the enhanced abilities he had been born with. His grandfather's warning about what happened to psychics that denied their powers rang in his ears, but it had been years. He was a Harvard Law graduate now, and he was fine. He thought his grandparents had been worried over nothing.

"I hope you're right," Ruby said. "You deserve the job better than any of the other mouth-breathers there."

Clark grinned. "Honey, they are some of the best legal minds of their graduating class. They're strong competition."

"They're not as good as you," she said seriously.

Clark pulled them to a stop and kissed her again. "You're biased."

She pulled back and they started walking again, hurrying past the dark alley that always made Clark nervous. It reminded him of a scene from the opening sequence of a horror movie.

They were almost past it when someone grabbed Clark's shoulder and turned him. He looked into the face of a woman that couldn't be older than twenty. She was grimy and thin, but her face was calm and amused.

Clark pushed Ruby behind him with one hand and rooted in his pocket for his wallet with the other. He took it out and held it out to the young woman. "There's a lot of money in there," he said. "Take it and go."

The young woman brushed his hand aside and said, "I don't want your money. I want your girlfriend."

Ruby whimpered and Clark felt a swell of fear. Something stirred in his chest, and for the first time in years, he felt the wave of strength that came with his gift. He drew it up and prepared to fling it at the woman, to slam her into the wall, but before he could do it, she had pulled out a strange-looking knife and slashed it across his gut, leaving burning pain was trailing in its wake. He felt warmth flood down his legs and he fell to the ground, his hands cradling his bleeding stomach.

Ruby screamed and dropped down beside him, her hands joining his on the bloodiest place of his shirt.

"Help!" she screamed. "Someone help us!"

The woman that had attacked Clark stood over him, staring down with amusement. Clark stared at her, his mouth moving wordlessly, his voice stolen by the shock and pain, and then an inarticulate cry ripped from him as the woman's head flew back and black smoke poured out. For a moment, it just funneled in the air and then it flew at Ruby. Her mouth flew open and the smoke forced its way into her.

When the last of it had entered and her mouth closed, Ruby's hands dropped from Clark's stomach and she stood up. She stood over him for a moment, her green eyes amused, and then they turned pitch black and she turned and walked away, stooping to pick up the knife she had used to attack Clark.

"Ruby!" Clark tried to shout but it came out as a whimper.

People crowded around him and a man began to call instructions for someone to call an ambulance and for another to give him a coat. Clark felt pressure on his stomach that flooded him with even more pain, and then blessed unconsciousness came for him and his eyes fell closed.

His last thought was that his grandfather was right. Demons were real.

xXx

As Clark finished his story, Mary drew a deep breath. The words had been factual and simple, no emotion behind the story of how he'd been attacked and his girlfriend possessed, but she sensed there was a lot of emotion under the surface that Clark wasn't telling them—it was as if he was seeing the scene in his mind, even as he told them the bare bones of the story.

"She was possessed," Dean said. There was no hostility in his voice for once when addressed Clark.

"Yes," Clark said. "She disappeared that day, and there has been no sign of her since. I've spent every day since I got out of the hospital looking for the demon that took Ruby." He rubbed a hand over his face in a rare moment of vulnerability. "That's why I need the gun. I want to find the demon that took the woman I love and I want to kill it. I have been hunting it all this time to hurt it. Now I know there's a way to kill… I need that gun."

"How will you know it when you find it?" Mary asked. "It could have switched meatsuits."

Clark flinched. "I will know it when I see it. I will never forget the way that demon felt." Seeing their confusion, he said. "I had weeks in the hospital to think about that night, years later to dream of it, and I remember every detail. I know how that demon felt to me. I will know it again."

Sam cleared his throat. "Is that something I can do, feel demons?"

"I don't know," Clark said. "Maybe. Only way to find out is to get you close to one, but…"

"No!" Mary said harshly, her fingers curling into unconscious claws. "He's not going to be anywhere near one."

"But, as I was going to say, I don't see that happening," Clark finished.

Mary chanced a glance as Sam and saw he looked annoyed. She could understand how he felt and why, but he could be unhappy with her if that helped him. She would not let him near a demon if she could stop it. She definitely wasn't getting him close enough to one to test his powers.

"You already knew about demons," she said, wanting to change the subject.

"Yes. I come from a line of psychics," Clark said. "It skipped my mother, but I got the works. I was raised by my grandparents, and they trained me from when I was a kid. I stopped when I went to college, but after Ruby was taken, I put everything I had into building them again. It's why I have such good control of them," he added, looking at Sam who nodded. "They told me about the demons in the world and the monsters, but I never really believed them. After Ruby, they told me everything they knew about demons, and then I started learning for myself."

Mary nodded thoughtfully. She'd thought Sam and Dean had a rough introduction to the real world, but Clark's was even worse.

"I'm sorry," she said. "No one should have to go through that."

Clark laughed harshly. "No, but they do every day. I'm just one of the lucky ones that can do something about it. And you're going to help me."

"We're not giving you the Colt," Dean stated. "We need it more. You want revenge, and I get that, believe me. But we need it to save a life."

Clark raised an eyebrow. "You're going to have to change your mind if you want me to keep helping your brother."

"What about Missouri?" Sam asked, his face betraying his worry even though his tone was neutral. "You made a deal with her."

Clark shrugged. "I've set you up with two extra powers now. I think that's earned me a favor from Mosely."

"Two?" Dean asked. "What else can he do?"

"He is sitting right beside you," Clark said. "Why don't you ask him? Better yet, ask him to show you."

Sam shifted uncomfortably. "We don't need to do that."

"Yes we do," Clark said. "I'm not sure what the holdup is here, Sam, but they need to see and you need to let go of what's holding you back."

"Nothing is holding me back!" Sam said angrily.

Clark shook his head tiredly. "I'm not a mind reader, unfortunately, but whatever you're thinking, you're wrong. I can feel that. Don't forget you have that whole saintly thing going on. It's not going to change how they see you."

Mary's eyes widened and she looked at Sam who was staring down at his lap. "Is that it?" she asked. "You're worried what we'll think? Honey, nothing you can ever do or say is going to change how much your brother and I love you. You know that. Whatever it is you're hiding from us, stop it. We're not going to judge."

Dean elbowed Sam and Sam looked at him. "She's right," Dean said. "I told you before, it doesn't matter how many powers you have, you're still the little brother, my little brother. Just show us."

Clark nodded, looking satisfied, and got to his feet. He picked up the pillow from the couch and dropped it down in front of Sam's feet. "Go on," he said. "Show them. Just don't explode it. It's the last one."

Sam frowned and stared down at the pillow. At first, Mary thought he was refusing to show them still, and she reached for words to comfort him, but then she realized, by the strained look on Sam's face, that he was showing them. The pillow was shaking, though nothing was touching it.

"Whoa," Dean breathed. "Sammy."

Sam huffed out a breath and the pillow flew—actually flew—into the air and collided with Dean's face, sticking to it as if he was a magnet.

Clark started to laugh, growing louder as Dean pushed the pillow away, revealing his stunned face.

Mary thought her own shock must have mirrored his, but she quickly schooled her face into a smile and got to her feet. She tugged Sam up and threw her arms around him. "Sam, that was amazing!" she said gleefully. "I can't believe you can do that already."

Sam's brought his hands up to hold her, and she felt his uncertainty in his light touch. She pulled back and cupped his cheeks in her hand.

"That was amazing," she said emphatically. "I'm so proud of you."

Proud was perhaps the wrong word, she was awed, but she thought Sam needed to hear more than that. It was an incredible achievement after only a few days training. He must have been pushing himself to the limit to do it. No wonder he was exhausted when he finished each day.

Sam looked worried still. "You don't think I'm a freak?"

"No!" Dean said firmly. "You're awesome. Though if you can aim somewhere other than my face when you move onto heavier objects, that would be great."

Sam laughed softly, a look of exquisite relief crossing his face. Mary saw now just how scared of their reaction he had been.

"And that's just what he's learned so far with me," Clark said loudly, breaking the moment.

Mary's eyes moved to him and she saw he was lolling in the uncomfortable chair, a picture of ease despite the intensity in his eyes.

"And I can teach him so much more. But I want that gun."

"We can't give it to you," Sam said. "We need it more."

Clark considered. "I can see why you'd think that. So I'll make you a deal. I will help you, Sam, teach you everything I can, and I will help you all to find that gun, but you will give me one shot from it. When I find my demon, you will come and you will give it to me. You will let me kill it."

"And then you'll give it back to us?" Sam asked.

"Sammy," Dean said in a warning tone.

Sam held up a hand to him and Dean fell silent. "You will use one bullet, one shot, and then you will give it back?"

"Yes," Clark said, looking from Sam to Mary and ignoring Dean completely. "Do we have a deal?"

Sam nodded and Mary said, "Yes."

She could think of no other option. Sam needed to be trained and they couldn't compete with Clark to find it. They had one of Samuel Colt's journals—though it only covered one year and there had been nothing else helpful about the Colt in the parts she'd read that afternoon while Sam slept—and she hoped there would be more in others her father had collected. If they could find the right one, they might get the name of the hunter he'd passed it onto in the legend.

Clark held out a hand and Mary shook it. He gripped hers a moment too long, and she had the feeling he was looking right into her, before he released her and said, "I'm trusting you, Mary."

"And I'm trusting you," she replied.

Her tone was calm though she was feeling a twist of fear. The way he said it made her nervous, and Missouri's warning about her secret being revealed was in the forefront of her mind. Was it possible that Clark knew? He had been hunting demons for over twenty years. Had one told him something?

She couldn't ask, couldn't even if they were alone, as it would reveal that she was hiding something, but she wondered

Despite the deal she had just made, she didn't trust Clark. If it wasn't for the fact they needed him for Sam, she would have taken her sons home and never looked for him again. But Sam did need him, so she had to hope that he would keep what he might know to himself.

So… They have a deal. Clark was supposed to be in the story purely to train Sam, but he's a determined character and is intent on sticking around. We're going to see a lot more of him.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx