Title: Hallowed Ground
Characters: Lois Lane, Dean Winchester, Chloe Sullivan, Sarah Austen, Preacher Hathaway, and others.
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural...and Hallowed Ground
Disclaimer: Don't own
Summary: Lois just wanted to help her traumatized younger cousin forget about the attack that'd left her scarred, both mentally and physically. Dean just wanted to get away for a while and wrap his head around his little brother choosing a normal life and Stanford over their family. Neither of them expected what they were getting into when they arrived in Hope.
A/N: I felt the need to write a Smallville/Supernatural crossing and since I couldn't get inspiration for my others...I wrote this one instead. Forgive me. ( '.')
A/N2: The age of the characters in this story are: Lois Lane - 18, Chloe Sullivan - 14, and Dean Winchester - 22
Dean was working on a plan.
Lois screamed and kicked and cursed and threatened and made herself a nuisance to the mob who were taking them out to the fields to be sacrificed, and while Dean didn't go willingly his mind was working a mile per second trying to figure out what his father would do in this situation. A part of him wished he could call his father at this very moment and ask for his advice, because somehow no matter how terrible things were John Winchester always knew a way out...but Dean knew that there was no way he'd be able to call his father now...he didn't even know where his phone was. The last time he'd seen it he'd been passing it to Lois before his baby was rammed up so badly and he'd gotten knocked out by the accident. So the phone was probably either somewhere still in the car, or smashed to pieces.
The thought of the accident made him think about his baby, which his father had only recently given to him with a stern command to take pristine care of her, but Dean pushed away thoughts of how damaged she must be. It was a distraction he couldn't afford, not right now.
This was more than just a hunt, more than just trying to stay alive...there were two civilians who depended on all his knowledge and skill. Two civilians had already died because of him, and the vision of their mutilated bodies hanging on their respective crosses in the cornfield would haunt him later on, but it wouldn't as much as it would if something happened to Lois and Chloe while on his watch. He mightn't know these girls, but seeing them reminded him too much of him and Sammy, and he wouldn't stop fighting because of that. Chloe reminded him too much of his little brother when he'd been younger, making Dean care for her despite the fact that he usually did not do things like that, especially with strangers. Lois reminded him of himself, and he could both understand and respect the way she looked out selflessly for her cousin because he'd done the same for his little brother. He felt a connection with the two of them because he could relate.
And he would not let these girls suffer more at the hands of this deranged town and their incestuous preacher.
So he was working on a plan, but it was hard to really know how to destroy something if he wasn't too sure what exactly he was dealing with.
Bullets, silver bullets, and rock salt hadn't worked on this dude...and that covered most of his arsenal.
And the way that he possessed Chloe and then the boy seemed demonic, and yet up until tonight he'd been stuck inside of a scarecrow so that made Dean figure that since tonight was the night of his foretold "conception" that this was a special night in which he could inhabit living bodies…and that meant he wasn't a demon.
Also, demons weren't a common thing hunters came across, the bastards were usually stuck in hell where they deserved to be.
Also, a demon wouldn't be so goddamn fanatically christian.
So what the fucking hell was Preacher Hathaway?
"String the whore up first!" One of the men yelled. "How dare she try to deceive us!"
"We should have known it wasn't her!" Another raised his pitchfork.
"Let go of me!" Lois screamed, struggling even more viciously as a couple more men joined in to grab her, laying her down on a cross and pinning her there as another brought a hammer and huge ass nails.
Dean watched as the people's attention was on the happenings, seeming to forget about him for a moment. He tilted his head slightly to the side, realizing that his captors as well were entranced in the sight of the brunette on the cross.
"Hold her still!" The one pressing the nail to her palm ordered. "The bitch keeps moving!"
"NO!" Lois cried as the man raised the hammer, and as the hammer lowered she jerked her arm violently...somehow managing to have the nail drive through the wrist of the man who'd been holding onto her.
The man screamed as blood spurted everywhere.
Using the distraction, Dean slammed his head back into the face of the man holding him, and when the man let him go to scream and grab at his bleeding face Dean twirled around to face him. During the move he snatched the pitchfork out of the hand of a nearby man and slammed the prongs into the face of the man who'd been holding him captive. Blood spurted on his face and clothes, and while Dean wasn't used to spilling human blood he didn't let this phase him, kicking the body away and loose from the pitchfork in time to turn and impale the man whom he'd stolen the pitchfork from as the man came at him from behind. He stared into those eyes, into the hatred and shock mixed there, before yanking the pitchfork free as the life began to leave those baby blues.
Lois had somehow gotten her legs free and wrapped them around the neck of the man who'd been holding them down, the sound of his his neck breaking lost in the screams.
Yanking the pitchfork out of its newest victim, Dean changed his hold on it and threw it, impaling the man who'd been about to shoot him. He then turned and grabbed the man who was on top of Lois, breaking his neck with a sharp twist on his hands.
Lois looked up at Dean with a sigh before her eyes went wide and she reached for the hammer which would have driven the nails into her flesh, flinging it behind Dean.
The hunter turned around in time to see the only woman of the crucifixion mob fall, bleeding from her fractured forehead, the knife she'd had raised to stab him with tumbling to the corn-covered floor alongside her.
"Thanks." Lois grunted as she gripped the hand Dean held towards her, allowing his help to her feet. "We need to get back to the house and we need to get Chloe the hell out of there now."
"We have the advantage that no one realizes we're not crucified." Dean ran his hand over his hair as he trudged towards the body with the pitchfork, stepping down on the carcass and pulling the weapon free. "But if we can't figure out what Hathaway is and how to kill him, then its going to be back to square one."
"Look, you think about how to kill him." Lois reached down and picked up the gun that the man had been about to shoot Dean with, hissing when she realized it was out of bullets. "Me, I need to save my little cousin." She stormed over to the woman who'd been about to stab Dean, grabbing her knife. "So whether you want to think on your way back to the house or not, I'm going. Now."
Dean opened his mouth to say something when he sniffed the air, frowning. "Is that...smoke?"
Lois' hazel orbs widened in horror as she turned towards the house, and sure enough, the sky was tinting orange. "The house..."
Their gazes met for a split second before both took off in the direction of the house, pushing through cornstalks, not needing to see where they were going to know their direction, the smoke and cries of horror their guide.
Finally they made it out of the seemingly never-ending cornfield and skidded to a stop as before them the Hathaway house was ablaze, Hathaway's followers circled around the house crying, not even noticing Lois and Dean were amongst them. Instead their gaze was up on the roof, and Dean followed their gazes, his light hazel eyes widening in horror, knowing when Lois realized as well because she screamed out her cousin's name.
In the middle of the inferno, dressed in an old fashioned white gown, Chloe was on the roof of the house, backing away from Preacher Hathaway.
"THE LORD'S WORK WILL BE DONE!" The preacher in teenaged form could be heard yelling at her, his nose twisted awkwardly and bleeding profusely.
It looked a lot like it'd been broken.
The male took a step towards Chloe...and the roof broke beneath him, his body collapsing into the burning inferno beneath him, his screams and the scent of burning flesh filling the air.
"NO!" The waitress fell to her knees, sobbing.
The others mourned tearfully, gazing at the fire.
"What ya'll crying for?" The only one crying wanted to know. "The fire only destroys his body, not his spirit."
"CHLOE! JUMP!" Lois hurried towards the house, as close as the burning heat would allow. "YOU'VE GOT TO JUMP!"
Dean was by her side in seconds, passing her his pitchfork as he raised his hands up. "Come on! I'll catch you!"
The blonde was obviously terrified, her face conveying it vividly, but she nodded and hurried to the side of the roof, jumping off with a scream.
Dean caught her, grunting as her weight hit him at full blast, but he somehow managed to remain standing despite his abused sides burning in pain like a motherfucker. "Are you okay?"
She nodded silently as he lowered her to the ground. "We need to get out of here."
Lois passed Dean his pitchfork and kept her knife aimed at the people who weren't even looking at them but at the flames. "Morning's in less than two hours. We can make it."
Dean nodded and gave the girls a little push towards the cornfield, hurrying behind them and covering their back despite the fact that the people only had eyes for the burning house.
The closely approaching sunrise was betrayed by the many different colors streaking the early morning sky, giving the three still racing through the cornfield a surge of hope that they were going to make it out of there. A couple of times one of them would get their feet stuck as they'd go through the dry-rot roof of the shelter underneath their feet, but the other two would help the fallen one out and without missing a beat they'd continue running. They were tired and thirsty and scared but adrenaline was high and gave them the fortitude they hadn't known they'd had to run nonstop.
They'd raced by crosses with "scarecrows" on them, knowing that the faces beneath these masks were bones, muscles, or rotting flesh depending on the stages of decomposition the corpses of the town's victims were in. Their stomachs rolled in their bodies at the stench of rotting flesh, of death, that surrounded them, and yet the trio didn't stop, wouldn't let themselves be distracted from their goal of escape.
The sound of a highway in the distance caused them to cry out in happiness and gave them the energy they needed to push on.
But then the cornstalks rustled around them and the preacher's congregation appeared in a perfect circle around them, almost as if having trailed them for a while and waiting for the height of their hope to be reached so they could crush it.
Dean drew the girls behind him protectively, and while a part of Lois wanted to point out the fact that their being surrounded meant that being pushed behind him wasn't actually protecting them, the fact that he was doing his best to keep her and Chloe safe touched her.
One of the members, a guy around Dean's age yet lacking his good looks, stepped forwards, holding his hand out. "It's time to return home."
"Take one step closer and I'll kill you." Dean promised, tightening his hold on the pitchfork.
"Chloe, run." Lois whispered, her grip on her knife so tight her knuckles were white.
"I'm not leaving you." Chloe hissed back, reaching down to grab a rock and raise it high.
"Run!" Lois snapped at her.
"No!" Chloe snapped right back at her, showing more spirit than she'd had since the attack, her eyes no longer blank but burning with green fire. "I am not leaving you! Or Dean!"
Suddenly the cornstalks around them came alive, wrapping around Dean's and Lois' arms and feet. The cornstalks tightened their hold, forcing the two young adults to drop their weapons in pain as their bodies were stretched in an "X" pattern. They were horribly vulnerable to the murderous mob around them.
The possessed still held his hand out towards Chloe.
"Chloe run dammit!" Lois screamed, struggling in vain against her supernatural binds.
"T-they go free." Chloe stammered, standing her ground, holding the rock tightly in her hand.
"Goddamit! Listen to your cousin and run!" Dean sounded just as desperate, struggled just as unsuccessfully.
The blonde ignored them, raising her gaze to meet the preacher's. "You don't want to do this. I'm obviously not the person you think I am, none of us are." She raised her chin high, taking in a deep breath. "The last time you tried to force me you ended up knocking over the candles and lighting your sanctuary on fire. Don't you think that that's a sign right there from god that I'm not the one you should be born from?"
A couple of the congregation whispered to themselves at this.
And then Lois realized what her cousin was doing.
She was stalling.
Already behind the blonde the sky was starting the lighten.
The preacher shook his head, smile still in place. "You were prophesied-."
"And yet I wasn't. According to you Lois was, you even knew her name, and then you got all holier than thou when you realized she's not a virgin. You decided to forget all about your prophecy and go for the second option!" Chloe snapped, tightening her hold on the rock. "All of you thought it was Lois! You kept watching her the second she came to town. Why? Because she was the one prophesied!"
"It was wrong." Someone defended their actions.
"Well, if the prophecy of Lois Lane being the mother of the preacher's rebirth was wrong...doesn't that make any of you wonder what otherprophecies might be wrong?" Chloe threw her hands in the air in exasperation.
A couple of the townspeople turned to each other.
"I might not know my bible like dear Preacher Hathaway, but when a prophet is proven wrong he's usually referred to as a false prophet." Chloe hissed.
"Still your tongue child!" The preacher hissed, storming towards her and backhanding her hard, sending the girl to the ground. "You willnever utter such sinful words again."
"Don't fucking touch her!" Lois screamed as Dean struggled against his hold.
Seated on the ground, Chloe wiped at her bleeding lip, before looking up at Preacher Hathaway. "Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves..." She sneered. "I still have your bible verses in my head from your little visit."
A couple of the congregation were beginning to whisper amongst themselves.
"But she bears the mark on her." One could be heard saying.
Chloe turned towards the woman who'd said that, eyes narrowing as she yanked at the neck of her nightgown, pulling it so that the marked skin was exposed. "You mean this?"
"The mark of our savior!" A man yelled.
Chloe turned her glare on him. "Unless your savior is the devil then I doubt this is his mark."
Silence fell on the group.
"Aw, I thought you all were versed in christian symbols. Because this? This isn't one." She slowly stood, turning around the circle, showing the group her scars. "This is an inverted cross, satan's sign."
Gasps of horror could be heard.
"Yeah, and this wasn't the act of god marking me to be raped by my ancestor so he could get a toe into this world again." Chloe snapped, fury causing her chest to rise and fall harshly. "This was the act of a sick, evil person."
Lois gulped, hearing her own words in the blonde's lips.
"I used to think the devil had something to do with this, that if I could prove his existence that I could somehow understand some deeper meaning to what happened to me. But with all of this shit tonight I've realized that there are just some genuinely evil sons of bitches out in this world who are completely human." Her furious gaze seemed to scathe the people, a couple of them taking a step or two back. "It wasn't because of the devil that I was marked, that I nearly died. The reason why I was attacked so viciously is because my mother was held captive and repeatedly raped fourteen years ago so viciously, so brutally, that it drove her insane. She couldn't believe that the person who could have done so much evil could be human, so to shield her mind she told herself it was the devil who'd brutalized her for weeks." Her hands were beginning to shake, her voice to wobble. "She tried to love me, but who can love the devil's child?"
Dean went still, stopping his struggling, pale and horrified as he stared at her.
Lois was crying, hating being tied up, being unable to hug her cousin and hold her dear.
Hated that her cousin knew and no one else had known she had.
Why hadn't they contemplated the possibility of Chloe investigating and discovering the truth about her birth?
"When I was six years old the man who's raised me like a father came home to find my bathroom full of my blood and my hands scrubbed raw." Chloe took in a deep breath. "That was the first time that he realized that my mother put me through "cleansings" to try and take the evil out of me. She'd hold me under the water in the bathtub for minutes sometimes, trying to baptize me daily, she'd scrub me raw to get the evil that was seeping out of my pores..." tears were beginning to shine green orbs, her voice breaking. "She went away after that, and I didn't know that she'd been locked up in an insane ward until the day she broke out to kill me. And why did she want me dead? It was because supposedly when I became of age I'd be damned and destined to be the devil's tool, and she was going to save me from the devil who, in her eyes, was my father." She shook her head in disgust. "Thing is, my father's human. I know because I've visited him in prison."
Lois' eyes widened in horror.
"He's apparently a statistic, a born again christian." Chloe laughed darkly, shaking her head. "In jail he 'found god'. Funny. I didn't know god was missing." She slowly stood, gazing into the Preacher's eyes. "He asked me to forgive him, you know. He hadn't done anything to me, but he begged me to forgive him. I don't know if christianity is like alcoholics anonymous in which you have to 'make amends' or what-I've been raised agnostic you see-but he seemed really genuine and I forgave him. I told him I'd never come to see him again, I'd never think of him again, but for what it was worth to him...I forgave him."
"And that shows the love of god within you." The preacher announced.
"Love." She laughed, the sound ugly. "On both sides of my bloodline I'm the descendant of psychopaths, two men who did horrible things to innocent people and got off on it. And yet when I met both of you all you talk about is god and love. What do either of you know about love?"
Preacher Hathaway took a step back, frowning.
Lois could feel the cornstalks' hold on her loosening slightly.
Suddenly Dean freed his foot and kicked up the pitchfork from where it'd been on the ground next to him, catching it in his hand and grunting as he threw it at Preacher Hathaway's body from behind, the pitchfork imbedding itself into the man's back, driving him to his knees as the group cried out.
"I bet you didn't prophecy that did ya?" Dean freed himself as the cornstalks' grip on them loosened immediately as Hathaway knelt on the ground. The hunter reached for Lois' fallen knife and began to slice the cornstalks still holding her just as the first rays of sunrise colored the sky.
"You will burn in hell for this!" Preacher Hathaway slowly, painfully rose to his feet, reaching behind him to try and tug the prongs out of his skin.
Suddenly crows cawing all around them caused everyone to look up in the sky to see a large black cloud of birds descending towards them.
"This is a sign!" One of the congregation cried.
"How beautiful!" The waitress gasped.
And then the birds descended on them with fury, and the gasps turned to screams as the birds attacked viciously, pecking at eyes and covering the congregation with hunger.
Dean threw himself down on Lois, shielding her body with his wings flapped all around them.
Lois tried to fight him for a couple of minutes, tried to get to Chloe, but Dean kept her pinned underneath him and she couldn't move no matter how hard she tried. Panic and nausea built in her throat, making it hard to swallow as she tried to distinguish her cousin's voice amongst the screams. She couldn't see Chloe, the black so thick, and she couldn't hear her. Images of her cousin's body pecked to death flashed before her eyes, taunting and tormenting her as tears silently made their way down the sides of her face as she stopped fighting, knowing that it was all too late.
Why had Dean saved her?
Why couldn't he have tried to save Chloe instead?
And then, as guilt and horror built within her soul, Lois' hazel eyes made out her cousin through the black feathers. The teenager was kneeling on the ground in the middle of all the chaos and death, staring ahead of her fixedly at something Lois just couldn't see.
All around her crows devoured the congregation, blood and skin covering the ground.
Black feathers littered the ground.
It was only now that her guilt and horror and fear were beginning to subside that Lois realized that while the crows' wings would brush against them from time to time as they attacked the congregation, that the birds weren't attacking her or Dean. And despite being in the middle of most of the fury, Chloe was untouched as well. And now that she thought about it, Lois realized that despite the fact that Preacher Hathaway had been not four steps away from her cousin a minute or so ago, he was now completely disappeared from sight.
Where was he?
It was then that Lois realized, black wings flapping everywhere, that there was a hole in the ground in front of where Chloe was kneeling, and a column of crows were diving inside with dark determination.
Chloe continued staring ahead of her, eyes fixed on something, before her lips moved in what seemed like a "thank you" but Lois couldn't figure out who her cousin would be thanking in a moment like this.
Black wings then obscured all view of Chloe once more.
But she knew that the was fine, so Lois could relax, turning her gaze towards Dean, finally letting herself register the fact that he was on top of her.
The brunette took in his scent, a little miffed at the fact that he didn't stink of perspiration despite their hours running. She'd always thought of herself as in top physical form, but he proved that he was obviously in better form than she was. She both admired and resented that in a man.
"See something you like?" He quipped again, laughter in his voice.
"You wish." She scoffed before realizing that there was silence.
No batting of wings.
Dean seemed to realize it as well because he pulled away from her and sat up on his knees, eyes wide.
Lois leaned up with her weight on her elbows, staring at the massacre around her.
Her gaze then went to Chloe, who was standing and shielding her gaze from the glare as she watched the dark flock of crows flying away. Her white dress was torn, blood covered, and there were black feathers caught in her messy hair.
And then she turned towards Lois and grinned brightly, eyes twinkling. "Did you see that coming?"
Lois let out a breath of relief as she smiled back. "Not really."
"Me neither." Chloe turned back to gaze at the crows. "It was an awesome deus ex machina though. Poetic, really."
"Deus ex machina?" Dean's question was quoted in amusement as he slowly stood.
"I've gotten used to the fact that she knows words I never will." Lois chuckled as she accepted Dean's hand and help to stand, brushing herself off.
Dean shook his head, clearly amused with them, before going to one of the bodies and rummaging through his pocket, grinning when he found something and pulled out a phone. "Yes! Now, work."
Lois raised an eyebrow at him.
He could at least have the decency to be slightly more awed by the fact that crows had saved them!
What exactly was his life like hunting the supernatural that this sort of thing didn't phase him for more than a couple of seconds?
Once again she was impressed and resentful.
"Dad. It's me, Dean." Dean cleared his throat, hand rubbing the back of his head as he began to tell his father all that'd happened to them.