I Just Died in Your Arms Tonight (1/?)
I don’t own anything you can clearly identify.
Author: Dimitri Aidan and Aloysha
Fandom: Supernatural, Smallville, and Charmed
Unbeated for the moment. Tremble...
Pairing: Eventual Dean/Sam, Lex/Clark, Chloe/Pete, and Chris/OMC. But until then other not nearly as important things.
Warnings: Umm…Language, Violence, Smut, Slash, and such.
Summery: When Dean and Sam head to Kansas after they get a call for help, they find that a haunted house is their least of their worries.
Losha: Sam’s dream is based off an acid trip I had once. There are less black and white images, snakes, and ramblings about the evils of Democracy…but its still kind of trippy.
Dimitri: …right. Anyway. Be on the look out for Tortured!Sam, Angsty!Dean, Mildly Insane!Lex, Dark Humor!Lex, and Oddly Accepting!Lex in this chapter.
It Rains Inside My Head
Somewhere in Texas,
He could see the bodies, though only in flashes like in those really annoying movies where they tried to make things ‘mysterious’ by having a random club scene and using strobe lights. They melded, stretching and arching into each other, until they became like one body, trapped in the middle of a sea of withered dry grass, burning around them as the sky let loose bloody tears. Their bodies were stained, handprints in oozing crimson, smeared all over by cherry dripping lips. He could taste the metallic tang in his mouth and when he reached up to touch his lips he saw his hands were covered in steadily cooling blood.
He could see long smooth columns, pillars of ivory. His hand touched the cold stone only to find it was cold metal, which bite into his hand, deep and stinging. The blade fell and when it hit the ground the ground reared up, arms stretching out as lips parted and let out a wet gasp.
He took a step back and found himself in a dark place, the darkness so thick that when he reached out it moved, warm and soft like velvet. In the middle, drowning in the darkness, two people cowered, trying to hide from the things lurking just beyond the edge of the warm shadow, ready to pounce upon them, rip into their bodies, shatter their bones and pull their insides out with wet sounds that he could hear. They held onto to each other, dancing just along the edge of shadow.
Blue eyes with black smeared into the corners and streaming down perfectly smooth pale skin, mixed with tears. A low wail left red painted lips and
Sam almost choked on his tongue when he found himself very rudely jarred into the world of the waking, not that he wasn’t grateful for the reprieve. His eyes snapped open and he was looking into the almost frantic face of his brother. A hand was clamped on his mouth, pressing had enough that his teeth were starting to cut into his lips and his jaw was beginning to hurt. His stomach lurched and he could feel the greasy heart destroying food he’d forced down earlier making it’s presence known. He reached up and pushed at Dean’s hand, making a noise to indicate he really needed to be let go of.
He was let go immediately, as if he’d burned Dean by touching him, and his lips tingled in a way that wasn’t unpleasant, but was really weird. He only had a moment to reflect on it before all but jumping from his bed and running to the bathroom, nearly skidding when his bare feet met bitterly cold tile. He managed to stay upright long enough to fall to his knees and lean over the toilet.
Dean tried to shut out the sounds of his brother retching but didn’t really succeed. Any other time he’d have been in there with Sam, keeping his hair back and cracking really inappropriate jokes at his brother’s expense but tonight he couldn’t make himself move from Sam’s bed. He’d woken up almost fifteen minutes ago to Sam’s screaming.
And not just screams, but screams, as if something was trying to kill him. Each one had ripped through Dean making him feel…weak because all he could do was shake Sam’s shoulder with one hand while trying to muffle his screams with the other. And it hadn’t worked, Sam had just kept screaming and thrashing, catching Dean with a fist to the side of the head at one point.
There was silence from the bathroom again, save heavy raspy breathing and then the sound of running water. Sam stumbled out a minute later, looking worse for wear, and fell onto the bed rather ungracefully. His legs were more off than one and the way he’d landed with his arms underneath him had to be awkward but he didn’t seem at all inclined to move.
Finally Dean had to speak because the silence was cold and smothering, like the tentacle of a very nasty water monster thing they’d killed a week before. It had pulled Dean under, tried to suffocate him with its frigid slimy appendage and, his crude dick jokes from later that night aside, it had rattled him a little bit. He’d blacked out and been sure he was going to die until he’d woken up with Sam’s lips on his, warm and wet, forcing air back into him.
Even in his half dazed, about to die state Dean had pressed back and Sam had lingered for a moment. Then Dean had started coughing up water and that had been it. Neither was saying a thing.
“Shit…Sammy, don’t fucking scare me like that.”
“’M names Sam.” Sam’s voice, muffled as it was by the bed, was harsh and weary. His throat was raw, as if someone had reached down it and rubbed sandpaper all over. He swallowed and tried to ignore it. “What the hell happened?”
“I think you had a nightmare. You probably woke the whole fucking motel.” Dean muttered while rubbing a hand over his face. He stopped when he realized his hand was trembling and put it into his lap, putting his other hand on top. “It must have been a bad one.”
“I was screaming?”
Dean hesitated and Sam brought his head up. His eyes were red with dark shadows lingers under them and his hair slung to his head with sweat. He looked like he might fall asleep at any moment. He wanted to reach out and touch him, make sure he was really okay. He wanted to tell him that he’d been doing more than screaming, he’d been driving Dean insane and had him mentally reciting every demon and entity that could attack a person in their sleep, nearly wetting himself and about to start screaming as well. Instead he just nodded and looked away.
“It’s fine.” Not really, but what else could he say. “It’s almost five and I know I’m not sleeping anymore, so I’m going to take a shower. Why don’t you go back to sleep and I’ll wake you up later?”
Sam nodded and Dean stood up stiffly. He walked away, watching as Sam crawled all the back onto his bed and collapsed again, before shutting the door of the bathroom. He waited a few moments and, as he’d suspected, he heard Sam’s breathing even out. He let out a deep breath and let himself slid down to sit on the cold floor.
Holy fucking shit. He didn’t even know what the hell had just gone on but he knew, with total certainty, that it sure as hell wasn’t good. First that screaming, and there was no way he’d be able to sleep again for a few days at least if he was lucky, and instead of waking up and trying to write what he’d seen down or make Dean understand Sam had just fallen back asleep like it was nothing.
And it couldn’t have been nothing, it had to have been terrible, but Sam hadn’t so much as hesitated before passing out again. It wasn’t like him and it didn’t make sense. It…well, it freaked him out like few things were able to.
Dean liked to think he was pretty much desensitized at this point in his life, having witnessed things that most people wouldn’t even imagine existing let alone would have the balls to stand up to. But, somehow, his brother always left him at a loss. Sam had always confused him, from his desire to get away from hunting and lead a ‘normal’ life (Which had always seemed impossible because how could you just ignore what went on?) to this recent development. Every time he thought he had a little bit figured out Sam just went and changed again.
Dean had to confess this was the first time he’d ever felt so…he couldn’t even think of a good word. Sam probably would, or else what good was a college education, but Dean wasn’t Sam and wasn’t particularly good at putting a label to stuff like this.
He was still shaking, now that he was away from his brother he was trembling all over. He didn’t think he’d be able to get up for a few minutes. He bowed his head, bring his legs up to meet his chest, and let his arms fall over his head.
The shower didn't help in the least. The water was lukewarm at best and the pressure sucked pretty bad. It took more effort to get the cheap motel soap off of him than he really felt up to and by the time he walked out to dress he could tell today was going to be a really bad day. He started to pull clothes from his bag when he noticed the red light on his cellphone blinking to tell him he had a message.
Clothes forgotten he grabbed it and sat in the chair. Only a few people had this number and he couldn't help but hope it was their father. Instead a smooth voice, skeptical with just a hint of bemusement, greeted him.
"Hello Mr. Winchester, I got this number through your father's message and hope you may able to be of help in a small-" Here a voice in the background snorted rudely and the person speaking sighed. "Large matter with my home. If you can help, in a discreet manner, you can contact me at-"
Dean hung up, knowing the number would be in his miss calls log. Something to get his mind off of this recent curve ball life had cracked in the head with he hoped.
Lex just wanted to state, for the record, that he didn’t believe in ghosts or haunting or anything along that vein. Now, Lex believed in genetically altered freaks, up to and including himself, that roamed the town of Smallville and made the life of all those around them living hells. Anything more than that was just asking too much of a man who prided himself on his scientific mind and nature.
Now having stated that, he didn’t know how exactly to explain the weird things he kept seeing late at night, when he was in that space between light and deep sleep. He’d written it off as dreams at first but then things had begun to happen.
Chairs and desks moved from where he recalled seeing them the night before, windows being open where none had been open before, cold spots in the middle of the room when everything else was warm. Things missing from his desk that he knew had been there five minutes before…
Little things that made Lex think he was losing his mind. Again.
It happened more often than he was comfortable getting into.
Which was to say Lex was fucking clueless and he really didn’t like being clueless. In fact it pissed him off quite a bit.
So, understandably, rather than being disturbed over the fact ever electronic device in his house had suddenly come on at their highest setting he was angry. And when everything went off, including the lights and heat and the emergency generator didn‘t kick in a few moments later, he was seriously considering breaking something. He stood up from his desk, closing his laptop with a scowl. Thankfully he hadn’t had it plugged in so it was still working and no information had been lost.
This was starting to get ridiculous though. He’d spent a lot of money to get the whole castle hooked up to the emergency generator when the lights had started getting all weird on him, and the damn thing didn’t even work.
Or else whatever was causing all this ‘disturbance’ had taken that out as well, but he couldn’t help but think that was rather unlikely. As far as he could tell it hadn’t even come on, let alone gone off, which led him to believe it was some kind of technical problem that he’d have to fire someone over in the morning, thus being the ‘evil Luthor’ yet again.
He grabbed a flashlight from the inside of his desk then headed out of his office towards the basement. He was sure most people would be shocked to discover that he not only knew where his circuit breaker was but how to get the lights going again, but he liked to think he wasn’t nearly as high maintenance as the tabloids suggested.
And, as often as weird shit happened in his home, he would either have to keep staff on call at all times or learn how to fend for himself. After the incident with the invisible stalker he’d decided it was best to learn to handle the little things himself.
Sometimes he regretted his love of art. This, as he wandered the long silent halls of his home, was one of them. With only a thin beam of light and what little came from the sliver of moon outside to illuminate his way the portraits seemed to be smirking at him cruelly, sculptures looming terribly, shadows seeming to move along the floor and walls like they had minds of their own. He didn’t let it bother him of course, because Lex was a man of science and he knew it was simply the darkness playing tricks with his eyes, making him see things that were not there.
Simply the result of pulling an all-nighter yet again. He hadn’t slept in some time, days, and now it was catching up with him.
When a shadow at the end of the hall unattached itself from the larger mass and started in his direction he continued on, not so much as moving his flashlight to acknowledge it. The moment he started to give into his delusions was the moment he needed to call a shrink and he wasn’t quite ready for that.
The shadow continued towards him, becoming vaguely human shaped. Large and broad, male or else a very unfortunate girl. Not that it mattered. Because he wasn’t giving in to his delusions.
“Lex?” The shadow spoke and it sounded amazingly like a certain farm boy Lex knew. He sighed, rolling his eyes heavenward and wondering why someone up there hated him. He moved his flashlight up and caught the farm boy in question right in the face, causing him to put his hands up to protect his eyes. “Um. Hey.”
“Clark.” He said, keeping his tone light. This was fine. It was…three in the morning, give or take, and here was a seventeen-year-old with the most anal retentive father in the world, standing in his hallway after all of the lights had gone out only to not click back on. It made sense, since where Clark was chaos seemed to follow.
He was like…Lex’s own living breathing voodoo doll…not that he believed in that sort of thing, but if he did it would have been Clark. Lex would have had him killed or sent away but he found Clark was the only source of intelligent conversation beyond a certain blond reporter in Smallville and Lex would rather suffer than be left with only farmers to talk too.
“Hello.” Lex turned the flashlight down finally, high lightly Clark’s chest and the hallway behind him. “Can I help you?”
“I was actually wondering the same about you. We were over in the field, helping Pete with some astronomy thing when we saw all your lights go off. Chloe and I thought we should come see what‘s going on and I came in through the kitchen.”
Clark moved his hands as he spoke as if waving around would somehow help explain things to Lex, who was too busy staring at what was very much not light streaming out from underneath the door that lead to his dining room to really care. One of the dining rooms anyway…he had a few. He never used any of them though…didn’t even think he’d ever been in most of them.
“I was not listening at all. Do you see light coming from in there?” There was a moment of hesitation and he could picture Clark’s confused look perfectly. Then the teen turned slightly.
“Yes. Were you in there?”
“Should we check it out?”
“No.” Lex said, moving his flashlight away finally.
“So that doesn’t bother you at all?” Clark seemed really insistent that they go investigate the strangeness that was Lex’s house. He couldn’t imagine why.
“Nothing bothers me anymore.” Lex sighed, sounded more resigned than he would have liked. Something bad was going to come of this; he just knew it. Clark was here and as long as Clark was here bad things had to happen. The kid was a fucking magnet. “You can look if you want, but if something slimy kills you I can’t be held accountable.”
Clark made a noise in what may have been disgust then stomped over to the large double doors and threw them open. Flickering golden light streamed out, bathing Clark and the section of hall he was in. Lex crossed his arms over his chest, adamantly refusing to go any further. And he would have stayed there had the rest of Clark’s Scooby gang have not showed up in the form of Chloe Sullivan and Pete Ross. They both rounded the corner same as Clark had and came to a halt next to their friend.
Lex watched as they both turned and stared into his dinning room, eyes widening until he thought they might just roll out of their heads. He sighed again and walked over, looking inside as well.
There were chairs floating around the room, at least eight feet off the ground and climbing higher. They bobbed and weaved in their air, dancing around each other, casting strange shadows on the wall in the light of the hundreds of candles that had become lit in the room.
Lex honestly couldn’t say how long this little chair dance may have gone on by itself because Chloe, ever the reporter, held up a camera. He saw the movement from the corner of his eye and before he could even suggest that she reconsider that line of action the flash went off.
Everything went still. Even the air around them seemed to halt and for a long moment Lex couldn’t even draw in air. The chairs all turned slowly, like something out of one of the really cheesy horror movies Lex had a secret weakness for, until the fronts were aimed at them. The windows blew upon, hitting the stone with enough force to shatter and send glass shards raining. The candles went out at once, plunging them into blackness.
Lex started to move his flashlight up to see what the chairs were doing when he felt a strong grip on his arm yanking him away from the door. He found himself pressed against the wall next to the door hard enough to feel the chill of the stone cutting through the linen shirt he was wearing, with Clark so close that Lex could smell the grass and soap on him. He couldn’t see him, as his flashlight was currently spinning on the ground, but he swore he could hear his heart beating.
There was a crash as the chairs all hurtled towards their personal destruction, as suicidal furniture is prone to do, and hit the wall, shattering under the impact and then falling to the ground like puppets that’d had their strings cut. For a moment there was only the sound of Clark’s breathing. A light at the end of the hall flickered and then, one by one, they came on.
Once they were all on Lex could see Pete and Chloe, in a position similar to the one he and Clark were in, on the other side of the doors. The chairs were little more than a pile of firewood, a shame since they’d been circa the 1920’s and would be near impossible to replace, and would be an hassle to clean up. He didn’t even want to look at the damage his windows must have suffered.
At least the lights were on.
He looked up at Clark, smirking. “Fine. Your assistance was, as always, appreciated. And I have to admit this is very cozy. I imagine your father would want me to propose before things got any further. I‘m loathe to have him come after me with a shot gun you understand.”
Clark leapt away from him with the speed that only those in unwanted awkward situations can and Lex pushed himself off the wall, stretching some before turning and heading back towards his office. Clark was just so damn easy to get flustered, an unbelievably wonderful change from the hard and fashionably jaded people he usually dealt with.
He noted, as he glanced back to make sure Clark was following, that Chloe and Pete were taking a considerable amount more time to untangle themselves.
Young Love. Or…something. Lex hadn’t been subject to things like puppy love, innocent crushes, and falling for his best friend in some sickly sweet display. He’d simply never had the time, or childhood, to indulge in such things. He wasn’t sure if he was thankful or bitter.
Back in his office things were just as he’d left him, thankfully. So far he was under control, nothing really having bothered him too much, but if anything had happened in here he’d probably have been more than a little upset. LexCorp was in a very precarious place as far as firmly establishing itself separately of LuthorCorp went and he couldn’t allow anything to screw that up, least of all Smallville’s general weirdness.
He sat back at his desk then looked up at Clark who sat across from him with no hesitation. Familiarity and time (with a bit of Lex’s urging) had broken Clark out of his awkwardness in the castle. He’d been so uncomfortable once, afraid to touch anything least it break and end being worth more than his life. Now the only thing keeping him from putting his feet on Lex’s desk was his laptop, which was probably on equal footing with Clark worth wise.
Or that’s what Lex told him anyway. In reality it wasn’t a real contest. But he didn’t want Clark knowing what a short leash he had him on until he was at least old enough to vote.
“What’re you going to do?”
He opened up his laptop while arching an eyebrow. “About?”
“Ignore it. Acknowledging it will only give it ideas.” Lex said smoothly while calling up financials for the week before. “Luthors do not negotiate with terrorists, least of all invisible ones who acknowledging could give my father the perfect opportunity to commit me.”
Again. But there was no reason to bore Clark with sordid tales of his misspent youth and how his father had thought sending him to Smallville was a last resort after committing him.
Lex blinked, feigning confusion over Clark’s apparent outrage. “What?”
“This is insane.” Lex agreed so he nodded slowly, folding his hands on his desktop as he did. Clark glared and Lex couldn’t stop his smile. “I’m serious. Weird things have been going on for almost a month now and you keep looking the other way, but what if something happens and you get hurt?”
“Your concern for me causes a warm fuzzy feeling.” Lex deadpanned. He got another, more intense, glare for that. “Whatever is going on is just some strange Smallville shit. I have more important things on my mind than…what does Chloe call them? Freaks of the Week.”
Clark shifted in his chair, looking almost uncomfortable for a moment and very much like there was something he wanted to say. Lex just stared, waiting for the teen to speak his mind. Finally Clark sighed and Lex began to wonder where his little friends were. Probably poking around in the dining room. Nothing short of death would make Chloe leave a mystery alone. Damn shame really, Lex really liked her and hated to think that someone would eventually have her killed for being nosy.
It was inevitable though.
“I think you have ghosts.”
Lex blinked slowly then nodded. “I can see that.”
“I think you should call someone?”
“Like who? The Ghostbusters? Somehow I doubt Bill Murray and Ernie Hudson are going to save me.”
“…Huh?” Clark looked confused and Lex could tell he’d just inadvertently geeked out on the teen. Waved a hand dismissively and Clark shrugged. It wasn’t that obscure a reference though; they’d had a sequel for God’s sake. “Well, no. Chloe found out about this guy who apparently goes all around the country and handles stuff like this and I figured that it wouldn’t hurt things any if you checked it out.”
He was serious. Goddamn.
Lex would have said no to anyone else but Clark asked for very little, and it usually centered around Lex’s personal well being when he did, so it was hard to refuse him just on that. But that fact that it was Clark, with those wide blue eyes and pouty lips and tanned skin and…
Lex was going to hell. Not yet, but eventually. He was looking forward to it actually. “Fine. What’s his name?”
Clark seemed to almost bounce in his seat like an overexcited puppy and Lex knew instantly he’d done the right thing. …For him of course, because watching Clark this happy, and knowing he’d done it, was a purely selfish thing he liked to indulge in. Better than aged scotch.
Somewhere in Virgina,
Chris reached up and adjusted the rearview mirror, giving him a good view of the man curled up in the back seat. Kit was asleep, and had been for a couple cities now. They hadn’t talked much in a few days and Chris knew it was his fault. He just had this…terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, the kind he only got when he was hurtling towards impending doom but couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it. He hadn’t really wanted to talk once the feeling had made itself known.
It was all so much to handle. He’d died, after coming back from a future that didn’t exist and thus he didn’t’ have a place in, then had been brought back to life, a reward for stopping his brother from becoming an evil sociopath, under the condition that he give up who he was and never come back to San Francisco. He’d been stripped of his natural powers as a witch only to have some new ones thrown at him that he couldn’t even begin to properly…comprehend yet.
The only that thing that had remained even partially constant was Kit and even their relationship was far from what it had been. He swore if he saw the older man run off with one more person for a quick grope or fuck or whatever he was going to bash his head against the hood of the fucking car. He hadn’t always been like this…a little adventurous and outside of the box, sure. But an out and out slut?
That was a new one. Still, Chris would rather have him being a slut where he could keep an eye on him, to a degree, then off on his own. Besides, he needed him.
He turned his eyes back to the road, headlights cutting across the predawn darkness, when he felt a cold prickle run up his spine. He swerved for a moment as a cold sweat broke out over his body before forcing himself to focus. It was slowly becoming a familiar feeling, but he wasn’t used to it, and he found himself looking over at the passenger seat warily. Sitting there was a woman, dressed in a long flowing gown, bright red hair pinned to the top of her head, and long elegant fingers folded in her lap primly.
Chris moaned softly and reached up to rub at the bridge of his nose. He hated to say it but he was starting to get used to the whole ‘visited by spirits’ thing. So used to it, in fact, that he had to admit he was confused at how…whole she looked. Most of the ones he saw were the results of murder or suicide or something along those lines and carried the wounds from their deaths.
This woman looked fine, aside from the fact she was clearly dead. She wasn’t translucent or anything like that, but she seemed to flicker in and out of existence from one moment to the next. She turned to look at him and smiled kindly.
He was reminded of his mother, which brought a dull ache to his chest. “Hello.”
Her smile widened. “Hello. I was afraid you wouldn’t see me. I can feel the pull from you but it can be very misleading sometimes.”
He tightened his grip on the wheel and nodded. “Not everyone who can see wants to.”
“I suppose not.” She looked over her shoulder at Kit and reached out, hand seeming to brush over his face in a motherly fashion. “You care for him so much that it kills you on the inside. The way he treats himself…it’s tragic.”
“He’s adjusting.” Chris snapped, finding himself defending Kit despite himself. Yes, he’d thought it and he knew it, every time he waited up for Kit to stumble back into their motel room, but he didn’t need anyone else saying it to him. “He’s…he’s…”
“He took your name and pledged to love you and betrays you in front of your eyes.” Her fingers traveled down, hesitating over the simple silver band around Kit’s finger. “At least my husband tried to be discreet.”
Chris doubted that had made it hurt any less. He just shook his head. “He’s hurt. When he’s ready he’ll come back to me.”
“That’s what I thought. I died thinking that. You shouldn‘t.” Her voice wasn’t angry like most spirits who sought him out, just soft and whispery. That was the worst part...anger, violence, rage he could deal with but this aching sadness that she was causing to well up inside of him was... She was just so sad…he couldn't even imagine what had been so terrible. His heart clenched to hear it. He could tell someone had hurt her very badly when she’d been alive. “I need your help. My son…my Alex. He hurts so much.”
“You want me to talk to him, tell him you’ve moved on?”
She laughed, a tinkling sound like rain hitting pavement. “No. I need you to save him from himself. He’ll destroy the world if he isn’t more careful…but, for now, he’ll just lose his mind. Something is going on in the house.”
Chris nodded, reaching up to rake a hand through his hair. There was always something going on somewhere and someone always needed him and today it was some woman tapping into Oprah. Why the hell not, really? He’d seen just about everything else so far. He was sleeping with an Incubus for all intents and purposes, how could anything possibly be more alarming than that?
“So, where is this house?”
They were on the east coast, just crossed into Virginia an hour or so ago. Not that they had any real destination, just floating around aimlessly until the ‘Higher Powers’ decided to send some restless spirit in their direction or guide them towards some display of evil and then command they kick its ass. It was a sucky job with sucky pay. But helping people was all Chris knew how to do, so he did it. It was what he’d been born for.
A warm feeling washed over him, chasing the cold chill away. He felt a hand touching his hair, seeming to run through it the uneasy feeling he'd been battling seemed to just melt away. He looked up, not surprised but almost disappointed to find the woman gone. He reached over and picked up his American road atlas and tossed it at the sleeping man in back, smiling at the angry curses that met him.
“What the fucking hell?”
“Smallville, Kansas. Start mapping.”
“Felt a disturbance in the force did you?”
Chris rolled his eyes. “Geek.”
“Slut.” Kit snorted softly before falling silent again. A look found that he was indeed flipping through the pages with a highlighter and making marks. Chris turned his eyes onto the road once again and let it stand at that.
Impending doom here they came.
Err…well. Reviews and such are always appreciated. Please, revel in our shared insanity while it‘s still at a containable level. It so only gets worse from here.Part Two