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: Reviews are great! They help feed the muse. :)
Notes: I started this because there isn't enough Sam/Clark out there. Also, fair warning: if slash is not your cuppa, please to be moving on.

It Takes Two - Chapter 3
by Jett

Sam tracks the demon to a bar. Or bar/restaurant – if a place called "Trailer Park" – complete with hula girl lamps and console TVs playing "Plan 9 from Outer Space" - can be considered a restaurant. As he strategizes, Sam idly considers the numerous drive-in signs and soda placards, noting the sheer volume of Americana on display should've caused some kind of structural implosion. The place isn't upscale like the demon's usual haunts, but it does have a wanna-be-wholesome-fun vibe about it. Maybe "wholesome fun" is why the demon's here. A demon who lives in a penthouse generally doesn't slum ("Dem's the rules," as Dean'd say), but tonight's definitely been made for rule breaking. Sam figures the demon moved onto the first hunting ground where he could find what he was looking for.

Sam's guess proves spot-on.

Near the front of the bar, the demon's chatting up a pretty girl who gets carded – and blushes when the demon whispers something into her ear. Sam moves closer to the table. It takes a minute for his eyes to register the familiar shape (because Sam would swear he wasn't there a second ago): Clark's here too. Sam watches as Clark steps closer to the demon. He knows he can't get across the room fast enough, so instead, he yells, "Clark, no!"

Clark spins in the direction of Sam's voice, and that's all it takes. The demon has Clark by the throat.

Sam's close enough to hear Clark tell the girl to leave. She's not the only one. "Get out!" shouts Sam, waving the gun. Bodies spill from the restaurant immediately – we're talking instantaneous empty except for the three of them.

Sam watches Clark struggle. He holds the gun high, lines the shot up. San also watches Clark simply put up a hand as if to push the demon away, continues watching as the demon goes sailing across the room and over the bar.

Sam idly notes no human being is capable of moving something that's over six feet tall and weighs in excess of two-hundred pounds with no more effort than it takes to hurl a paper airplane.

The Colt's still up and at the ready, but Clark gets in the way as the demon stands up, grinning a grin that's a little bit amusement and a whole lot of malice. "I take it you're not exactly from around here," says the demon. Sam catches Clark's reflection in the mirror. Clark smiles slightly – and there's an amber glow in Clark's eyes. Spilled alcohol ignites.

The demon's instantly ablaze.

The demon removes his jacket, slamming into the bar as he smashes his way through, grabbing Clark once more. "Well, then, just so you know, neither am I." The demon tosses Clark across the room. Clark slams through the front window, taking tables and plate glass with him.

Sam reacts straightaway, adjusting his stance as he lines up the shot and takes it. He misses the demon, but the demon doesn't miss him. Sam measures the demon's response time. He's on Sam faster than his heart can pulse. The demon grabs Sam by the collar, tosses him out onto the sidewalk. Sam lands brutally and rolls, the agony of the concrete bodyplant utterly matched by the embarrassment of bowling into Clark.

At least he still has the Colt.

Sam's getting his bearings when he realizes Clark's no longer on the sidewalk. He sees Clark standing by the hole in the building where the window used to be. "Clark, you need to let me handle this."

Clark looks like he's about to say something, but doesn't - just sort of shakes his head as though he doesn't have the time or the patience – and vanishes.

Sam's on his feet, eyes searching for Clark but drawn to and trained on the demon, all silhouette, rimmed by fire as the demon kicks through what's left of the front window. Clark's arm comes out of nowhere, spearing into the flames. Sam sees all of him now as Clark grabs the demon and slams it into the brick wall. Sam watches as mortar and brick crumble, leaving dust on Clark's hands and the demon's shoulders. "Clark! There's only one way to do this." Sam raises the gun. "Get out of the way!"

"I'm not letting him go," says Clark, holding tight. The demon wriggles, but can't seem to free itself. "If you need to shoot, do it now or –"

The Colt goes off with a rumble-crack; the smell of gunpowder fills the air. The demon squirms enough so the first shot glances off and clips Clark in the shoulder. Clark winces but seems to tighten his grip as Sam fires another shot. This time, the bullet impacts the demon's head dead center. This time, the bullet does what it was meant to do. A familiar blue light arc sparks, the demon shudders a nearly-dead thing's jig and collapses.

Eventually Clark turns the demon loose. "What just happened?"

"I killed a demon. With your help. Although, I'm still a little fuzzy as to how. The last person I saw that strong had a little demon in him. And he killed me."

Clark's staring at him, and Sam can feel the heat of his gaze as Clark's green eyes probe. Sam catches the small posture change in Clark that probably signals he believes what Sam's said. Then Clark speaks. "You look pretty good for a dead guy." There's a grin on Clark's face, and his eyes shine with a look Sam recognizes as "More information, please."

"Yeah, well, my brother's ripe with stupid." Sam shifts gears, trying to get Dean and the deal out of his mind. "You don't seem surprised. You tell the average guy a story about demons and resurrections, and they either back away slowly or run. Why aren't you –"

"Backing or running? I could ask you the same thing. Given what you saw."

Instead, Sam steps closer, looking into Clark's eyes, seeking the truth about who Clark is, what Clark is. There's openness, but truth isn't floating on the surface.

Sam repositions himself and checks Clark's wound. The bullet's still in there. "I'm thinking instead of running, the right thing to do is maybe buy you a beer and get that slug out."

Clark angles his head low to look. He moves his shoulder and contorts his face like he's feeling the worst pain in the history of the planet. "Any chance we could maybe reverse the order?"