Disclaimer: I own nothing
AN: Here's the second chapter. Again based off Man of Steel Trailer
My son was in the bus. He saw what Clark did!”
“You have to keep this side of you a secret.”
“What was I supposed to do?” Clark demanded, “Just let him die?”
Jonathan turned away and after a brief pause replied, “… maybe.”
Things were often beyond anyone’s control. Clark knew that, but sensibility and practicality constantly warred with his desire to help. He never felt more different, alien, freakish, until the day of the bus accident. Regular people could and would have helped others to the best of their abilities, but he couldn’t. He was different; he had to hide and pretend to be something else. Despite all the strength Clark possessed, there was nothing he could ever do. The risks of exposure and the safety of his family prevented him from fully utilizing his abilities. Even if he could, what then? He couldn’t restart a heart, he couldn’t bring the dead back to life, and he couldn’t have saved Pa. Despite all his abilities, he was in practice, powerless.
Still, Clark struggled internally with every cry of help he heard. And in the small town of Sunnydale, there were far too many at night. Thankfully someone had been answering those cries recently. More often than not, Clark would hear a fight break out with the same female every time. He could now recognize her voice as it was distinctly pitched, despite his practice at limiting his hearing range. Sometimes he managed to ignore the sounds of Sunnydale’s night life, but more often than not he still heard enough to understand the gist of what was happening.
It was quite likely that once he registered with the local high school, Clark would end up meeting Sunnydale’s mysterious savior face-to-face. Still, despite her best efforts to limit the local PCP-related violence, many cries at night still went unanswered. Those cries were driving Clark’s patience to his upper limits. Maybe it was why, despite Pa’s wisdom Clark found himself walking the streets of Sunnydale one night. If he limited his hearing range to just one block in all directions, he wasn’t actively looking for trouble he justified. It was just a late evening stroll.
Of course he heard when a pair of bodies slammed into a nearby wall. With a quick burst of speed, Clark rounded the corner to see two individuals wrestling each other for control. His first instinct was to rush and help the woman, but in less than a second it was apparent she wasn’t the victim.
Picking the man up as though he weighed nothing, the woman viciously hurled him into the alleyway wall, knocking him unconscious. As she approached the fallen man, Clark couldn’t help but call out.
At his shout the woman turned and Clark’s mind froze, trying to register what he was seeing. Her eyes glowed yellow and her forehead was distorted by weird bone formations, ruining what otherwise may have been an attractive visage.
She growled before breaking out into a predatory smirk. Her voice was feral and throaty, “I’d be happy to share the fun.”
Next thing Clark knew, he was thrown from one end of the alley to the other. She was strong!
In his excitement, Clark forgot why they were fighting in the first place, “You’re like me!” he exclaimed, climbing to his feet. The prospect of someone else sharing his experiences overtook his mind. His spry recovery seemed to impress his attacker.
“So it would seem,” the woman’s attitude did a complete 180. Gone was the wild predator, in its place the sultry seductress, “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to enjoy myself.” She took slow deliberate steps toward him, emphasizing the sway of her hips.
Clark gulped when she stopped in front of him. As she drew her finger across his face, he shuddered; he felt an unfamiliar warmth spread throughout his body.
A firm hand gripped the back of his neck as she pulled him close, inhaling his scent. Then there was a pause, “You’re warm.”
“You’re cool,” Clark dully replied, still completely overwhelmed by the recent turn of events.
Pulling back slightly, the woman frowned, the boney ridges on her face having disappeared. She repeated again as though he were slow, “You’re warm.”
“What does that even matter?” Clark asked, obviously confused.
“Nothing, hun, just relax,” she cooed, pulling him into a passionate kiss. Within the first second, she forced her tongue into his mouth, savouring his taste, “Mmmm, you taste good.”
Completely, thunderstruck Clark managed a, “You too,” before she began trailing kisses down his neck. With each kiss, Clark groaned, feeling her trail lead down his neck. He’d never felt anything so—Ouch!
She bit him!
“Fucking oww!” the woman screamed, backing off. Her facial ridges were back and she was gripping her mouth in pain, “What the fuck are you?”
Falling on old habits, Clark politely asked, “Sorry, what?”
“Great, a freak and stupid,” the woman let out a string off curses. She suddenly appeared far less attractive to Clark. The word freak cut much deeper than the shot at his intelligence.
The teen wasn’t even sure what he’d been thinking. A moan brought his attention back to the injured man. He’d been so caught up in the moment that he’d completely forgotten why he’d been in the alleyway to begin with. His common companion guilt returned once more at a great moment of opportunity: right before a fist collided with his face.
Reeling in a daze, Clark registered that his face actually stung. Something had managed to hurt him.
“Fucking Hell!” the woman was shaking out her fist, “What the fuck are you?” she demanded, glaring at him in fury.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Clark stammered, his father’s obsession with secrecy clear in his mind. He could only hope to desperately salvage the situation, “Besides what were you doing to him?” Clark demanded, attempting to redirect the focus of the conversation.
“What do you think?” the woman asked incredulously, “You must be really new to the Hellmouth. Fucking demon,” She spat on the ground to emphasize her point. “Your kind ruins everything.”
“What did you call me?” Clark asked, the insult was new to him.
“You heard me,” she walked forward as he stood their paralyzed. Intruding into his personal space, she spat on his face, “Demon.” The word was said with a passionate vehemence.
“I’m not,” Clark stuttered, trying to defend himself, “I’m not a demon!”
“Whatever floats your boat. My snack isn’t worth dealing with your kind,” and with that she simply turned and left the alley, leaving Clark and the unconscious man behind.
For several minutes, Clark stood there, trying to process the last few minutes, trying to make sense of everything. And then he sat down, curling his knees into his chest. So maybe that’s what he was. A demon. Something similar would explain the woman from earlier and her appearance. Everything in his life would make more sense. Maybe that’s why Pa had wanted him to hide? Was that—
The man moaned again, possibly fluttering in and out of consciousness.
A reminder of his plight was enough to galvanize Clark back into action. Demon, freak, whatever I am. I can still get this man to a hospital without being seen by anyone else. I can still help.
And so he did.
AN: Again feedback is appreciated!