Hey guys. Sory it took so long (for me, anyway) to update. Thanks for the reviews and constructive criticism. I've got to say, you folks are coming up with ideas I never considered, which makes me sad becuase the story's already done :(

However, I hope that it's good enough to keep you all interested. I've definitely got a few curveballs up my sleeves, so stay tuned!

Chapter 7

Nope, You Can't Do It Like Me

"Maybe it's Bobby," Dean suggested, shoving his hands into his pockets as he followed Sam down the street, "maybe he was lying about the cape."

Sam shook his head, glancing down at the map he'd printed off earlier that day. The brothers were heading to the local comic shop to brush up on their superhero and villain lore, figuring that chatting up whatever geek was currently behind the counter would be easier than scouring the internet for anything useful. "Or maybe you're wrong and this guy, whoever he may be, is gonna try to take over the world."

"What if it's not a guy," Dean suggested, "what if it's Ellen or Jo or Bela?"

"Bela's not our friend, Dean, she shot me."

"Then explain to me how she got my phone number."

The younger man shrugged. "Maybe she stole your business card from your pocket."

"Very funny. But I'm being serious for once, Sam. It could be anyone."

"All the more reason to burn the cape."

"Then why are we going to the comic shop?" Dean asked.

"Because you might be right about Bobby. If he is the villain, then he might tell us to burn the cape, knowing full well that it won't change anything."

"And we wouldn't want to pull a Bela."

"A what?"

"You know, destroying the only thing that can save us because we were stupid and rushed into things. Bela."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Getting a little obsessive about the Brits, here, aren't we, Dean?"

The older man shrugged. "Evil is evil."

"Which is exactly why we need to know what we're up against. I just figure that a fan would be the best one to tell us."

Dean nodded. "Why the comic shop, though? I mean, only total geeks hang out there, and totally geeks don't watch much TV unless it's animated and from Japan, right?"

"Not true," Sam argued, "geeks aren't the only ones that hang out in comic shops. I saw a priest at one once. He was talking to the clerk about that CW show about the psychic demon hunter."

"Reaper?"

"No, the other one. The good one."

"Oh." Dean glanced over at the map, wondering how far away the stupid comic shop was, when he realized something. "You went to a comic shop?"

Sam stopped in his tracks and ducked his head, trying to hide the color that had flushed to his face. "Well, you know… one of my friends at Stanford was sick and the latest issue was coming out, and he asked me to-"

Dean laughed. "Guess I was right about you after all, Sammy. Geek Boy's a perfect nickname."

Sam grumbled something about not being the reason they were going geek hunting in the first place and continued down the street with Dean tagging close behind. They walked in comfortable silence for a while, just listening to the noises of the bustling little town, the sound of children playing in the streets, of cars rolling past, of birds chirping, of a little old lady screaming in a panic as a mugger ran off with her purse.

Wait…

The brothers stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, turning to each other with raised eyebrows. Dean opened his mouth to say something as the apparent mugger, a man wearing ragged clothes, with an even more tattered bandana over his gaunt face, ran between them, nearly knocking Sam over. The old woman he'd robbed panted up to the boys, begging them to stop the man, who had already disappeared around a corner.

With no other choice, Sam turned to his brother and nodded. Dean grinned, and seemed to disappear from sight. "Come on, ma'am," Sam said, gently wrapping an arm around the much smaller woman and leading her slowly down the sidewalk, "let's go get that purse back."

o0o0o0o0o0o

It was surprisingly easy to catch up with the thief. It was even easier to knock him down. He fell hard on the concrete as Dean slammed into him, sending the man sprawling, the purse flying from his grip and skidding to a stop in front of a darkened gardening shop.

The thief tried to crawl toward the purse, but, of course, Dean got there faster. The startled man looked up at the hero, then back over his shoulder at the spot of concrete Dean had occupied before the thief had blinked, then back again.

"How?" he asked, struggling to his scraped and bleeding knees, his ragged bandana slipping from his face.

"The light from the Earth's yellow sun," Dean replied sarcastically as the man shakily gained his feet. Without warning, the would-be thief lunged at the purse, catching the hunter, who had thought his job was through, off-guard.

With the woman's purse once again held firmly in his grasp, the thief turned back the way he'd come and ran for it. Rolling his eyes at what he saw as a weak attempt to escape punishment, Dean grabbed the closest thing he could find- a garden hoe that had been leaning against the wall of the store- and gave chase.

Once again, Dean was able to easily catch up with the man, who was stumbling along the sidewalk, cursing his skinned knees. The hunter slowed instantly and kept pace with the older, thinner man.

"Whatcha doing?" Dean asked. The man nearly fell over as he turned and saw the good Samaritan that he'd thought he'd left behind. Before he had a chance to react, Dean brought the garden hoe down on the thief's head, snapping it cleanly into two pieces and sending the disheveled crook back to the sidewalk, where he stayed.

As Dean was bending down to pick up the purse, Sam and the old woman came slowly around the corner, the younger hunter adjusting his pace to match the smaller woman's shorter steps.

"Dude, you missed it!" Dean gushed as he handed the purse back to the woman, who thanked him and began digging in her purse. Sam ignored his brother's excited expression and pulled out his cell phone, dialing 911 to report the injured thief to the authorities.

"This is for a job well-done," the older woman said in a crackling voice as she extracted an item from her purse and plopped it into Dean's hand. He looked down and smiled at the piece of hard candy. "No problem," he said, shoving the food into his pocket, "now, stay here until the cops come, all right. They should be here soon."

"How can you be sure he won't wake up first?" the woman asked.

"I can hear the sirens," Dean grinned, glancing over at Sam, "and I hit this guy pretty hard." The old lady nodded slowly, as if she didn't quite believe him. "You behave yourself, now," he cautioned her as he headed off down the sidewalk, grabbing Sam and pulling him along.

"We should stay with her," Sam argued, struggling futilely to escape his brother's grip.

"Not with an APB out on me," Dean pointed out, "besides, that guy's down for the count. I mean, did you see me Superman that hoe?"

"Thankfully," Sam muttered, "no."

Dean shook his head. "Man, that was awesome. And it just felt… right. You know?"

Sam glanced at his brother, worry in his eyes. "Of course it felt right, Dean. It was the right thing to do. Any good person would have done that."

"No, not that. Not what I did. The way I did it. It was like I was supposed to do it, just like that, with the speed and the strength. Like it's-"

"Like it's a curse, Dean," Sam reminded him, "like it's not right, or natural, or even benefiting society."

"But-"

"Look, I get it. You've got superpowers, and that's cool. And it's gonna keep being cool until people start dying. People are gonna die because of you unless we find a way to fix this."

Dean sighed, his bubble completely burst. "So, what, we burn the cape and hope it goes away?"

"No, we start at the beginning." The boys stopped walking and looked up at the space-age lettering on the sign that hung above them.

Dean cracked a smile. "Cute, Sam."

"What?" the younger man asked as he headed into the comic shop.

"Smallville," Dean elaborated, "beginning. It's the origin story, right?"

Sam just rolled his eyes, looking around the store. Old posters with superhero logos were hung around the room, curling up at the edges and yellowed with age. There were shelves of comic books stacked against every wall and standing up in the middle of the shop, creating narrow aisles. A large assortment of action figures was displayed in a glass case that stood by the door, looming ominously over the brothers as they stood in the doorway.

"'Origins?'" the woman standing behind the counter asked, attracting the Winchesters' attention. "Sorry, but you're outta luck. Some teenage girl picked up the last copy about an hour ago. You should be able to find it online, though."

"Um," Dean stammered, taken aback by the young woman's looks, the way her eyes sparkled and her dark hair cascaded effortlessly down her back, "I'm sorry?"

"The 'Origins' series," she repeated, "it's selling better than that joke of a network that produces the show ever could have imagined. We sell out pretty quick when we get new issues in."

"Oh, we're not comic buyers," Sam said hastily, stepping between his brother and the pretty young clerk, who was under great scrutiny by the older man.

"Ah, dude," Dean gagged, turning quickly away from his brother's back and confirming Sam's theory about what Dean would do with x-ray vision.

"We just had a quick question," Sam continued, grinning wryly at his brother's displeasure, "and we thought that someone here might be able to answer it."

"Well, I can try," the woman smiled, "I'm Jen, by the way."

"Sam," the younger hunter replied, "and this is-"

"Dean," the hero grinned, popping out from behind his brother with a wide smile and disturbed eyes, "nice to meet you."

"And what was your question?" Jen asked, apparently unmoved by Dean's heroic good looks and subtle advances.

"Do you watch Smallville?"

"Working here, how could I not? Actually, Thursday night is the only TV time I look forward to in the week."

"Grey's fan?"

"Do I look like someone who would enjoy watching McHorny and McSlutty get it on in the ER every week? No, I stick to the CW. Smallville and the show after it."

Dean nodded. "Reaper?"

"No. The other one. The good one. The one they got rid of."

"Couldn't have been that good if they got rid of it."

Jen frowned. "Says you and every other potential convert in the world."

Sam sighed, tiring easily of the pointless small talk. "We want to know about Smallville. Lex, in particular."

Dean shot his brother an angry glance, but Jen just smiled. "Right, sorry. I can get off-track sometimes. Um, Lex. Well, is there anything special you want to know, or jut a general overview."

"He's a bad guy in the show, right?" Dean asked.

"Well, now he is."

"What do you mean?" Sam questioned.

"He was Clark's good friend until the end of season 3. That was when Clark found out that Lex had been researching him. Things went downhill from there."

"Then Lex started killing people?"

Jen shook her head. "Not really. If it's murders you're looking for in the show- the heartless, cold-blooded type, anyway- then you'd be better off asking me about Lionel or Jason."

"Lionel or Jason?" Dean asked.

"Lionel Luthor is Lex's dad. They've got that whole 'like father, like son' thing going. Jason was Lana's boyfriend in season 4. He was one of those characters that didn't quite work out as the boy next door, so he turned evil halfway through his run. Got a lot hotter after that, if you ask me."

"And they killed people?"

The woman nodded. "Lionel's pretty badass, and Jason was a psycho mama's boy. Yeah, they racked up a body count."

"But now that Lex is evil…?" Sam asked.

"The things he does are still fairly defendable, when it comes to death," Jen explained, "he's got the whole 'making the world a better place' defense on his side. Really, Smallville started asking the same question that other show does, only in a shallower, easier to swallow way."

"And what's that?"

Jen looked into Sam's eyes, as if she were looking into his soul, seeing what was hidden there, the dark blood that coursed through his veins, the evil secrets that he hid. "Does the end really justify the means? Just how far into that darkness are you willing to go if it means saving someone that you love?" He could have sworn he saw a twinkle in her eye and his heart skipped a beat. "What if you save that person, but you went too far in? What if you can't get out?"

"What do you mean?" Sam asked nervously, wondering if he should check her for possession and wishing that he had thought to bring holy water with him on the trip.

"I mean," she sighed, tearing her eyes from his, "that Lex is experimenting with meteor rocks to try and save the world, to create super powered soldiers so that wars are easier to win. He wants to make the world a better place, and if people wind up dead,

then so what?"

Dean nodded. "Great, a villain with a sense of righteousness."

"He had to turn evil sometime," Jen shrugged. "So, is there anything else I can help you boys with?"

"No," Sam said, "thanks, but I think that's all."

"Glad I could help," she smiled, waving at the brothers as they took their leave. They walked down the street a couple of blocks before Sam opened his mouth to voice his concern about what the pretty clerk had said, but Dean cut him off.

"Tell me you brought a knife or something with you."

Sam blinked. "What?"

"I need a knife."

"Why?"

"I want to gouge my eyes out."

The younger man grinned. "I knew you were checking her out. That's disgusting."

"Not as disgusting as your ass. Now give me a knife."

"Don't have one. Besides, it's not like you could do anything but break it, given your current condition and all. If you want to blind yourself, you're gonna have to wait until after we burn the cape."

Dean moaned. "Great. What about our villain, though? Think it's Bobby?"

Sammy shook his head. "Not anymore. That girl in there seemed a more likely suspect."

"Any reason, other than the fact that she was checking you out, so she must be deranged?"

"Some of the things she said just sat wrong with me."

Dean cocked an eyebrow. "You sure that's not the breakfast burrito you had before we left this morning?"

"I'm sure, Dean. There's something off about that girl."

"Maybe it's the obsession. I hear chicks obsessed with TV shows are pretty dangerous. You don't want to piss 'em off."

Sam shook his head again. "I dunno. I think we should try to keep an eye on her."

"Fine," Dean shrugged, "we'll watch her. Just keep out of my line of sight."

I actually have a pretty funny story involving myself, the sixth issue of "Origins," a priest, and "Houses of the Holy." I totally fangirled out at the local Krypton Comics, and the only way to redeem myself and not seem like a totaly nosy stalker-ish type was to hold up my purchase for al to see. I'm a proud fan.