3

Chloe walked through the cemetery with Clark at her side. After realizing that grave digging was going to be on the agenda for tonight she had called in extra muscle. Sure she was all about not needing their help. She didn't need big brother Clark looking after her. But she was also five foot nothing and digging a six foot hole in undisturbed ground in a pair of Jimmy Choo's wasn't exactly something she could do.

"Tell me again why I'm about to become a grave robber?"

"Because you are my best friend and I asked you. Also if you don't Franklin's very angry ghost will kill again."

"And you know this how?"

"Clark. Can't you just trust me on this?" She sighed heavily. What did he think? This was her idea of a fun night?

"Ok. Sorry." He grabbed the shovel and dug the grave before Chloe could even acknowledge his apology. He tore off the lid to the coffin. Chloe tossed down the salt and then Clark charred the bleached bones before leaping out and filling in the hole. It was over in less than 5 minutes and Chloe couldn't help but smile. There were certainly some advantages to having a super powered friend along.

Walking back to her car she thanked Clark and watched as he headed back into Metropolis. She was pretty sure it was over but she had to be certain. Pulling her car out into traffic she decided to head over to the Franklin estate to sit through the night. She needed to be sure no one else would get hurt.

Chloe sat outside the front door to the estate. Waiting. She just had to be certain it was safe. Then she would go home and crawl into her bed and sleep. It had been a long 24 hours. Between the ghost hunting and the crazy hot man attacking her.

She kept flashing back to his eyes. There was something about them. Something about the way he looked at her. Sure when he had grabbed her she had felt panic. No sane person would feel anything else when faced with the same circumstances but instead of that feeling getting worse it vanished. The minute their eyes met she felt an unnatural calm wash over her. A peace. It was as if time stood still and they were the only people in the world.

How was it possible that a complete stranger could have that affect on her?

She shook her head. That was not the important question. Slightly more important would be whether or not he was dangerous. For some reason she was sure he wouldn't hurt her. The logical part of her brain wanted to slap her for such a foolish thought and yet she truly believed it.

So silly. So very silly to believe in some kind of story. To believe monsters had souls and could do good.

She frowned. Disappointed with herself. How could she, of all people, Judge someone because they were different? A curse did not make a man evil.

It was near sunrise when she pulled back into her apartment. Stumbling exhausted up the steps she had the most vivid image of her would be attacker. His gold eyes watching her. But when she turned around there was no one there. Chalking it up to sleep deprivation and a slight OD of espresso she made her way to her bed and collapsed. She had barely kicked off her shoes before she was tumbling blissfully into dreamland.

She was running. Her arms out in front of her as she tried to prevent the branches of the low hanging trees from slapping her face. Her breath was coming in raged gasps and her legs burned with the strain of having been pushed too far. But she couldn't stop. Something was chasing her.

She stumbled and her hands pressed into the wet earth, halting her fall. She could smell the decaying leaves. Part of her brain reminded her that this was a dream, while another questioned why it was so vivid.

Pushing back up she began to run again only to be stopped as a pair of strong arms wrapped around her. Long fingers dug into the tender flesh of her arms and she tried to scream. For some reason her voice refused to work and then she felt a wet mouth on her neck. Nuzzling and sniffing her. She fought to pull away. Struggling. refusing to give in.

She twisted hard in her attempt to break free and the creature behind her let out an inhuman howl filled with sadness. Chloe froze, her fear melting away. She suddenly felt sorry for the thing that was attacking her. Turning to look him in the face she gasped when she saw who it was.

Chloe's eye flew open and her hands went to her neck. She ghosted them over her own skin as she expected to find some evidence of her dream attack. Taking a few deep breaths she tried to calm herself. It was only a dream. Brought on by large amounts of caffeine, sleep deprivation, a very, very sad love life and a strange encounter with a very attractive giant.

Chloe laughed out loud. The state of her love life truly was dismal if a brief encounter with a man who may or may not have been trying to kill her left her having confused and slightly erotic dreams.

A week later and Clark watched her with a frown on his face. He couldn't help but notice the dark circles under her eyes. "Stop staring Clark."

"Chlo, I'm just worried about you." She knew if she looked at him he would be giving her those puppy dog eyes and she just couldn't take it. Not right now. She hadn't slept through the night in a week. Every single time she closed her eyes she saw his starring back at her. Sometimes they were golden and haunted and others they were green and gentle. But every single time he was chasing her and no matter how fast she ran he always caught her. The worst part was that she was no longer afraid of him. In her dreams she wanted him to catch her. She wanted him to do a lot more actually but she always woke up before he could do much more than smile at her. Still this would have been okay but she had become so frustrated that she was walking around in a permanent state of arousal. A stiff breeze had her moaning. Couple that with the sleep deprivation and she was not her normal sunshine self.

"I'm fine Clark. I don't need a babysitter just a good night's sleep." She sighed when she heard him leave. Her eyes never leaving the computer. She had decided yesterday that she had to find him. Yes, he was attractive and yes, she was lonely but that didn't explain her single minded obsession. She had seen tooo much in her life to dismiss this as a simple crush. Something was going on.

So she had begun her search for them. First at the motel and then with his car. A classic like that would need custom parts. She flagged every custom internet order and cross referenced it with aliases. The one they had used at the hotel was classic. Ace Frehley. It didn't take a rocket scientist or an FBI profiler to put together a pretty decent picture of them.

Just to be safe she hacked the FBI data base and punched in a few parameters. She wasn't terribly surprised when she got a hit. Partners, that's how they were listed. Chloe could almost laugh. One look and she knew they were more than just partners. The FBI's file was thick but it was crap. There was nothing new in it. B&E, misdemeanor vandalism, grave desecration, nothing that couldn't be explained by what she knew was their stock in trade.

She needed something else. She needed more. Tapping her fingers on the desk she cursed under her breath. This shouldn't be this hard. She had found more with less. She put a trace on the card they had used at the motel and switched off the computer. It was late and there was nothing else she could do tonight. She wasn't looking forward to sleeping. At this point she had no doubt the dream would be back. Walking into the kitchen she poured herself a tall glass of scotch and sipped it slowly. She turned with the glass to head towards bed before changing her mind and grabbing the bottle instead. Maybe some alcohol would let her sleep more than a few hours at a clip.

She glanced at the sky before pulling the room darkening curtains closed. Any other time she might have taken a moment to admire the view. Even with the full moon the stars were sparkling so bright. There had been a time when she had enjoyed watching the sky from Clark's barn loft. Walking over towards her bed she pealed her clothes off and pulled on an oversized t-shirt she had stolen from Clark. Not that she felt anything towards him but friendship anymore but his shirts were just so darn comfortable.

Slipping into her bed she finished the glass of scotch before placing it on her nightstand. Her head was barely on the pillow before she felt her eyes slipping closed.

Dean locked the door to the panic room and walked up the stairs. Sam would be safe down there for the next 48 hours. He had supplies and blankets and enough tranqs to be able to sleep though the full moon if he wanted to.

This was the part he hated. Sam trapped and suffering and there wasn't a dam thing he could do about it. He popped open the first of what he was sure would be many beers and sat in front of the TV. Switching it on, he found an A-Team marathon on and smiled.

As soon as the door closed Sam started pacing. He didn't want to worry Dean but he had been self medicating himself for the last 3 days. Alcohol had stopped working. He had managed to get a low dose version of the tranquilizer and had been using it to take the edge off. The closer the full moon got the harder it was to control his animal side. Every instinct he had told him he needed to be somewhere else.

He was still sure a mate was crap but there was definitely something going on. He had dreamt about her every night for the last week. Although maybe dream wasn't the right word. It felt more like an out of body experience. So vivid when he woke her scent was still tickling his nose. He could still feel her soft skin under his hands.

At the click of the lock on the door Sam took his first deep breath in days. For at least the next 48 hours he wouldn't have to fight the urge to find her. When he got out of here he was going to have to come up with a more permanent solution. Being drunk and high was only going to get him so far. Not to mention the risk he was putting Dean at. He wouldn't be very useful as backup if he couldn't walk straight.

Dean and Bobby settled in the living room after locking Sam up. The men were uncomfortable, stressed. Dean had a routine down when it came to Sam's transformation but Bobby had only dealt with the full moon one other time. Looking for a distraction Dean turned on the TV flipping through the channels before settling on something.

"You are not making me watch this stupid monkey movie again."

"It isn't a monkey movie. It's a Clint movie and it's great."

Dean turned up the TV loud enough to muffle the sounds of Sam's howling. Not that he could concentrate. It was all he could do to think about anything but Sammy's suffering. If only he had been faster, stronger, smarter. If only he had prevented this like he was supposed to. It was his job to keep Sam safe. He was usually much drunker by the time the snarling started. It made dealing with the guilt easier.

Dean tipped back the beer finishing it and pushed up from the chair. He was going to have to up the ante if he was going to make it through the night. Reaching for the bottle of tequila he didn't even bother with a glass opting to embrace his purpose tonight. Drunk. sloppy, stumbling, incoherent, passed out drunk. If the proximity of a bottle of Jameson to Bobby was any indication he was heading in the same direction.

Dean's head turned towards the steps of the panic room at the sound of another low howl. By now the moon was high in the night sky and Sam was no doubt fully transformed. Dean didn't need to see him. He already knew the agony, had watched Sam change before and his mind was filling in the blanks.

Dean tipped the bottle up to his lips just as Sam let out another howl. He leapt from his seat at the sound of splintering wood and rushed towards the steps. He barely made it out of the room before the whole house echoed with furious growls and what Dean could only assume was the door to the panic room being torn open.

He grabbed the tranq gun off the table as he passed it. Pulling back on the slide as a dart slipped into place. Raising the weapon he was thrown back. He squeezed the trigger as his head collided with the floor. He watched as Sam leapt past him and the dart went wide.

"Bobby!" Dean called to the elder hunter and hoped he was able to get a shot off. Pushing back up off the floor he ran into the room to see Bobby firing out the back door into the night.

"I hit him." Bobby sounded surprised. "Barely even flinched."

"He's been building up a tolerance. I'm guessing it's progressed faster since I upped the dosage."

"We need to go after him." Dean just nodded. Sam on foot even slightly slowed by drugs was no match for them. Dean would just have to hope he could stop him before he had a chance to hurt anyone. Sam would never forgive himself.

Chloe eyes flew open. Her first instinct was to leap out of her bed but she controlled the urge. She needed to know what was going on. What might await her. She knew she wasn't alone. There was someone, or something, else in her apartment. She straightened to hear something. Anything that might indicate where they could be.

She had to force herself not to smile when she heard the squeak of her floorboards. She reached into her bedside table and grabbed her handgun. She spun around just as her bedroom door was forced open and pulled the trigger three times.

The rest blurred. Her intruder snarled and even in the dim light she was certain she had hit him. He didn't stop though. He kept moving forward and she tried to squeeze the trigger again but the gun was swatted from her hand. She was pressed back into her bed, her attacker hovering over her. Panic was making it hard to think. She could feel something warm and wet dripping on her shoulder and she smiled. She'd hit him. Although apparently it hadn't slowed him down any. She pushed and shoved and tried to move him but it was like pushing a brick wall for all the good it was doing but she didn't stop. She wasn't about to let some giant of a man kill her in her own home.

Why wasn't he killing her? Not that she wanted to die but for all her struggling her attacker had done nothing but hold her. He wasn't even holding her that tightly. Just enough that she couldn't get away. She stopped moving. She gave her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness and gasped.

"Sam." She said his name quietly. His eyes glowed softly and his breath was ragged. She could still feel the sticky blood on her skin.

"Chloe." Her name came out like a cross between a snarl and a purr. For some reason it calmed her. If he could speak she could hopefully reason with him.

"Sam, let me go and we can talk." His head dipped and sniffed her and he snarled again. Low and threatening and Chloe shivered. "Sam." His eyes snapped back up to hers and his snarl quieted some. She smiled softly and his grip loosened slightly. She waited a moment and he let go of her wrists. She moved slowly. Bringing her hand up to his face. The moment she touched him his head tilted into her hand and his snarling softened.

"Who do you smell like?" The words were low and dangerous and Chloe's eyes went wide. "It's all over you." He snarled again and Chloe realized he smelt Clark's shirt. "Mine." He snarled the last work before nuzzling her neck. Chloe wanted to ask him who the hell he thought he was. At least that was her last clear thought before her body caught on fire. Her pulse raced and her skin sizzled.

Her reaction was so quick and so intense her eyes rolled back in her head and she let out a low moan of her own. Bringing her hands up to his head and holding him close. Sam nipped and nibbled at her neck. His tongue running along the tendons causing heat to pool between her thighs.

She forgot everything but the way she felt. She ran her hands under the edge of his shirt along his taunt back and pressed her hips off the bed into him. He growled louder and bit down harder. Chloe was certain he was leaving a mark but she didn't care. She continued to explore his back until her hands found the warm sticky blood and she gasped.

She had shot him. "Sam, oh my god." she pushed him back a bit and he didn't resist. She leapt off the bed and ran over to the light switch. When she turned back to the bed Sam was standing there. She looked up at him and gasped. She could see the blood stain on his shirt. "Crap!" She grabbed his hand and led him back to the bed. Urging him to sit, her nimble fingers made quick work of removing his shirt. Low on his abdomen was a single gunshot. Blood was still oozing slowly but Sam seemed unfazed. He was staring at her like he knew all her secrets.

She moved past him into her bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit. Rushing back she opened it on the bed next to him and pulled out the tools she needed. Pushing Sam back she grimaced. This had never been one of her favorite things. "This is going to hurt." Sam made some sort of noncommittal grunt and raised his arm over his head exposing his injured side to her. For the first time Chloe really looked at him. His chest was wider than it should have been possible and covered with muscles. High on his clavicle was a very occult looking tattoo and Chloe realized her mouth was open. She gaped at him. He was lying on her bed shot with her own gun and she wanted nothing more than to ogle him. No man should look that good with his shirt off. It wasn't fair.

Dragging her eyes back to the wound Chloe poured the antiseptic on it and cringed at is bubbled up. She watched the muscles on Sam's side contract and twitch but he didn't make a sound. She moved her fingers to the area and felt around trying to locate the bullet. "It didn't penetrate very far. I can get it." Sam nodded and Chloe grabbed the forceps. Digging into his skin she went pale as the blood welled up. She hated this part. Despite her numerous experiences with playing Florence Nightingale she still wasn't used to the sight of blood.

She grabbed the bullet with the tool and pulled it out. Quickly covering the wound with a sterile bandage. She didn't have to say anything. Sam's free hand was already covering hers and holding it in place. He smiled at her. She had just pulled a bullet from his body, one she had put there, and he was smiling at her.

Grabbing the suture kit she pulled back the bandage and starred at the wound. She had pulled the bullet out only moments ago and it already looked smaller. Was that possible? She pulled a few stitches tight and covered the whole thing with another bandage.

Sam watched her the whole time. The beast making it hard to form sentences. His mind just kept repeating the same two words over and over again. Chloe and Mine. When he had broken out of the panic room his only thought had been to get to her. He had been in full shift and had easily gotten past Bobby and Dean. Not that he thought of them as anything but obstacles. To Sam they were family. To the wolf they were nothing but a distraction. He needed to get to her.

He easily broke into her apartment. Leaping to the balcony and opening the doors. The minute he was inside he took a deep breath and the beast began to recede. By the time he reached her bedroom he was more man that beast. It was a full moon and he was able to form words. Thoughts. They weren't very coherent but the fact that he could think at all was amazing.

Course none of that had prevented him from getting shot. This tiny woman was a force to be reckoned with. The beast in him growled, pleased that she wasn't some docile female. His body was on fire. Every instinct was screaming to claim her. Mark her as his own. Then he had smelled another male's scent all over her and had barely controlled the rage that had come over him. Even now as she stitched his wound he was bothered by the other male's scent as it mingled with hers. For the first time he realized just how close he had come to killing someone tonight. If she hadn't been alone…

He sat up as she applied the bandage. The haze clearing slightly at the thought of how close he had come to something he wouldn't be able to take back. The fog cleared more and he was able to form complete sentences. "I'm so sorry."

"You're sorry? I'm the one that shot you." She smiled at him. Thoughts still fuzzy with lust. The sight of him sitting shirtless and rumpled on her bed wasn't helping either. She bit her lip to stop herself from sighing. She knew he was attractive but coupled with her recent sexual tension and it was all she could do not to jump him.

He was watching her, saw her pupils dilate and could smell her. He licked his lips and he could taste her. He moved forward like lightning. Taste her? "Did I bite you?" He was pushing her hair back and inspecting her neck. There were a few marks but the skin was intact. But he had wanted to. He could remember thinking he wanted to mark her.

She swatted at his hands suddenly nervous to have him touch her. Afraid of her reaction to him. She took a step back. "Breaking and entering and the shooting aside we should probably talk about what the hell is going on."

"Holy shit! I need your phone." She pointed to the bedside table and watched as he dialed a number. "It's me."

"Where the hell are you?" Dean was yelling so loud Chloe could hear him across the room. "Wait, how are you calling me? The moon is still up. Are you okay? Tell me where you are, I'm on my way."

"Dean calm down. I'm in Smallville." Sam rolled his eyes when Dean snorted.

"Give the phone to Chloe." Sam turned towards her and held out the phone.

"Hey Dean." Chloe tried to sound nonchalant. As if there was nothing amiss about the situation. As if these two men weren't still virtually strangers.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine." Chloe watched as Sam got more and more tense.

"He didn't hurt you?" He sounded worried.

"Hurt me? Not likely. He wasn't the one with a gun."

"You shot Sam?" Dean sounded worried and Chloe felt guilty again. Never mind that he had broken into her apartment in the middle of the night.

"Yeah, sorry."

"Don't worry about it. He's a quick healer. Look, I'm not sure how the hell he got there so fast. But I'll be there in the morning. Are you going to be okay with him till then?"

Okay with him? She was pretty sure the only danger she was in was of doing something she would likely regret in the morning. "We're fine. Oh and Dean. Do not show up without coffee." She hung up the phone before she realized she hadn't given him her address. Come to think of it he hadn't asked.