Chapter 14 - Episode 10: Skinwalkers

Author's Note: I usually don't do pre-chapter author's notes, but I do give warnings in rare cases when appropriate. This chapter contains Explicit Sexual Content. The Lemons are marked and completely skippable if you're not interested.

Meteor Freak

Episode 10: Skinwalkers

Date: Tuesday, September 6, 2011.

Location: Smallville Savings and Loan, Smallville, Kansas

Lex Luthor walked into Smallville Savings and Loan with a backpack slung over his shoulder. The manager hurried over, his suit rumpled from a long day.

"I want to close all my accounts," Lex said.

The manager blinked. "May I ask why?"

"Is there a problem?"

"No! Of course not." The manager's words tumbled out. "It's just the Luthors have been banking here for 12 years. It's quite a shock."

"I'd like it all in cash."

The manager swallowed. "We'll do our best. Can I get your signature?"

"Certainly." Lex took the pen and signed with a flourish.

The manager retreated to a file cabinet and pulled out another document, comparing it to the fresh signature. When he returned, he asked, "Please may I see your driver's license, Mr. Luthor?"

"Why?"

"This signature doesn't match our records. I just need to verify your ID."

"I'm standing right here in front of you," Lex said, his tone sharpening. "What more do you need?"

"Sorry, it's bank policy."

Lex reached into the backpack. Instead of pulling out his ID, he pulled out a gun and pointed it at the manager. "I need the money now. Fill the bag."

The alarm shrieked as Lex burst through the bank's doors. Clark Kent rounded the corner ahead, hands in his jacket pockets. His stride faltered when he spotted Lex's hurried approach, the weapon in his grasp, the wailing alarm behind him.

"Lex, what's going on?"

"Get out of the way."

Lex planted both hands against Clark's chest and shoved. Clark's feet left the ground. Glass exploded around him as his body crashed through the display window of Henderson's Hardware Store. He landed hard among scattered tools and paint cans.

Clark pushed himself up, brushing glass fragments from his jacket. His gaze locked onto Lex through the shattered window.

Then something changed.

The world bled to stark black and white. Lex's form turned translucent, revealing the skeleton beneath. The bones were wrong. Green patches covered them like disease, pulsing with sickly light. The meteor rock infection spread across Lex's ribs, his spine, and through his skull. The vision lasted only seconds before color flooded back. Lex appeared solid again, pale skin and expensive clothes restored. That image, those infected bones glowing green in the dark, burned behind his eyes when he blinked.

Lex had already turned away, sprinting down Main Street, the backpack bouncing wildly against his back.

Clark remained on the hardware store floor, surrounded by broken glass. The alarm continued wailing.

Later that day, a woman burst through the door of an antique shop on Main Street, clutching the same backpack. She rushed up the creaking stairs. A teenage girl emerged from the bathroom.

The woman pulled out a thick stack of bills. "Tina, where did you get this?"

Tina brightened. "I promised I'd solve all of our problems."

Her mother went pale. "Please tell me you didn't rob the bank yesterday."

"I didn't." Tina's features began to shift and morph, her entire body transforming until Lex Luthor stood before her mother. "Lex Luthor did," she said in his voice, before shifting back.

"Stop it! Stop it, Tina. You promised that you wouldn't do that anymore."

"I did it for us."

"Somebody could have gotten hurt."

"Mom, I'm fine," Tina reassured. "And now we can afford to have the perfect life."

Her mother shook her head. "Tina, nobody's life is perfect."

"Lana's is."

"Stealing isn't the way to solve our problems. I'm taking it back. I'll say I found it in a dumpster."

Tina lunged forward, grabbing for the bag. "No, Mom, come on! We deserve to be happy!"

They grappled for control briefly before the fabric tore with a loud rip and Tina's mother lost her balance.

The world seemed to slow. Her arms windmilled, fingers grasping at empty air. Her body pitched backward. She hit the first step with a sickening crack. Then the second. Her head snapped back against the wooden edge. The sound of it, a hollow thunk, made Tina's stomach lurch. Her mother's body folded at wrong angles, ragdoll-loose, tumbling down, down, down.

"Mom!" The scream tore from Tina's throat. "Mom!"

She raced down the stairs, her own feet nearly slipping on the smooth wood, dropping to her knees beside her mother's crumpled form. With shaking hands, she couldn't stop them from shaking as she turned her mother onto her back. Her mother's head lolled to one side. Eyes open but not seeing. "No." The word came out barely a whisper. "No, no, no."

Tina scrambled to her feet. The phone. She needed the phone. She grabbed it from the nearby table, her fingers trembling so badly she almost dropped it. She dialed 911.

"911 Emergency." The operator's calm voice should have been reassuring. Instead, it made everything feel more real. Tina opened her mouth to speak.

Her reflection caught in the mirror across the room.

She stared at herself. At her own face, her own features. The face of a girl whose mother lay dead at the bottom of the stairs. The face of a girl who'd killed her.

"Hello?" the operator prompted. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

Not this face.

This face was a girl with problems, with a struggling family business, with a dead mother, and police asking questions. This face meant consequences.

"Hello? Hello, is anyone there?"

But there were other faces.

Better faces.

Faces that belonged to girls whose lives were perfect. Girls who lived in nice houses with people who loved them. Girls who had everything Tina had ever wanted.

Her grip tightened on the phone. "I'm sorry. It's nothing," she said to the operator before hanging up.

The old grandfather clock in the corner ticked, the only sound in the silent shop. Her mother's body lay at the bottom of the stairs. And Tina stood there, staring at her reflection.

— Meteor Freak —

Aunt Nell guided Tina Greer toward the garage, where Lana Lang was sorting through dusty boxes. "Lana, you have a visitor."

Nell turned and strode back to the house, leaving Tina in the entrance.

"Hey, Lana."

She looked up, surprise flickering across her face. "Tina, I didn't see you at school today. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. My mom's not feeling well. But she's better so..." Tina scanned the cluttered space. "So you quit cheerleading and Nell banishes you to the garage?"

Lana laughed. "She's got clutter issues. I'm trying to help resolve them. Figured now's as good a time as any. Want to join in?"

"Sure." Tina picked up a box and set it on a nearby table. "So what's going on with you? You've been kind of distant lately. Has Nell forgiven you for quitting the squad?"

"Yeah. After we settled the issues with her considering selling her shop, things went back to normal."

"So now you'll have more time for your unpopular friends."

Lana set down her box. "Tina, you're not unpopular. Besides, what happened to the girl who didn't care what people thought about her?"

Tina's shoulders slumped. "She went to high school."

"At least your mom doesn't try to run your life."

"You know, you're lucky that Nell cares about you. I mean, if something were to happen to my mom, I don't know anybody who would take me in. I'd probably be shipped off to a foster home or something."

"Thanks for that burst of cheer."

"Well, what do you want me to say?" Tina retorted. "You have the perfect life."

Lana let out a humorless laugh. "You want it? You can have it."

Tina's whole demeanor shifted, an intensity taking hold that made Lana uneasy. "I'd settle for the outfit. Wouldn't it be cool if we were sisters? If anything happened to my mom, do you think that Nell would adopt me?"

Lana took a step back, recognizing the desperation beneath Tina's casual words. "Tina, nothing's gonna happen to your mom."

An uncomfortable silence settled between them. Tina seemed to search for a way to change the subject, her energy becoming forcibly casual. "What's going on with Whitney?"

Lana's expression clouded over. She turned back to the boxes. "I broke up with him. After what he did to Tyson at the dance, things weren't the same."

"So it is because of Tyson."

Lana glanced up. "What makes you say that?"

"Come on. Everyone's noticed you two spending time together. What's the deal with you guys?"

"We're just friends," Lana said quickly.

"Friends who have intense conversations and stare into each other's eyes?"

Lana's cheeks flushed. The color spread from her neck up to her hairline. "It's not like that."

"Then what's it like?" Tina pressed.

"I don't know. He's... different."

"Different how?"

"He listens." Lana's voice softened. "Really listens, you know? Not just waiting for his turn to talk. And he doesn't treat me like Lana Lang, the girl whose parents died. Or the cheerleader. Or Whitney's girlfriend. He just... sees me."

"That sounds nice," Tina said quietly.

"It is. He makes me feel safe. Like I can trust him. And he wouldn't take advantage of me."

"Even after such a short time?"

Lana laughed softly. "I know it sounds crazy. But yes, even after such a short time. It's like... have you ever met someone and just felt an instant connection?"

Tina's expression softened. "Yeah, I think I know what you mean."

"That's how it is with Tyson. We can talk about anything. He listens. And he doesn't judge."

"Not like Whitney."

Lana's smile faltered. "Whitney's not... He's going through a tough time right now with his concussion. But Tyson… He hasn't been in town long, and he doesn't have any expectations about me. He sees me for who I am, not who everyone expects me to be."

Tina stepped closer. "And how does that make you feel?"

"It's... refreshing. Scary sometimes, but in a good way. Like I'm finally being seen for the first time."

"Sounds like you really like him."

Lana blushed again, turning back to the boxes. "I do. As a friend. It's nice to have someone I can talk."

"What about me?" Tina asked. "Can't you talk to me like this?"

Lana reached out, touching her arm. "Of course I can. You're one of my oldest friends, Tina. That's not going to change."

"Promise?"

"I promise. Now, enough about Tyson."

"Alright, got it. Whitney's out, Tyson's in."

Lana gave her a look.

"Fine, fine, what's the deal with you and your new job at the Beanery? Is Nell okay with that?"

"Okay with it? Not exactly. She thought it was beneath me or something. But it doesn't matter, I got fired after my first day."

Tina laughed. "So, no more cheerleading, no more job... What's next? Are you going to dye your hair blue and get a tattoo?"

"I don't think I'm quite ready for that level of rebellion. Besides, can you imagine Nell's face if I came home with blue hair?"

They both laughed. As they worked, Tina's questions became more personal, more probing. She asked about Lana's dreams, fears, and deepest secrets. And Lana, caught up in the catharsis of finally talking openly, found herself revealing everything.

As the morning wore on, the garage transformed. Piles of junk became neatly labeled boxes. Lana stood back, surveying their work. "Thanks for helping, Tina. This would have taken me all day on my own."

Tina smiled, but there was something hungry in her expression that Lana didn't notice. "What are friends for? Besides, I like spending time with you. It's... educational."

"Educational? I'm not sure sorting through Nell's old junk counts as education."

"You'd be surprised what you can learn about a person from their stuff. And from talking to them."

Nell's voice called from the house. "Lana! Lunch is ready!"

"Coming!" Lana looked back at Tina. "Want to stay for lunch?"

Tina shook her head. "I should probably get home. Check on my mom, you know?"

Lana nodded sympathetically. "Of course. Thanks again for your help. And Tina? If you ever need to talk... I'm here, okay?"

Tina's smile didn't quite reach her troubled eyes. "I know. See you later, Lana."

As Lana headed toward the house, Tina lingered in the garage. She spotted a small framed photo of Lana that had been unearthed during their cleaning. She picked it up, her fingers tracing the smiling face.

"Perfect," she whispered, before slipping the photo into her pocket.

— Meteor Freak —

The final bell rang through Smallville High. Students poured out of classrooms, heading toward lockers and exits. Lana Lang stepped out of history class, textbook clutched to her chest.

"Lana!"

She turned to see Tina approaching with a wide smile.

"How do you like the sweater?" Tina gestured to the soft pink garment she wore.

Lana studied it with growing confusion. "It's great. I've got one just like it."

"I know. I got it at the same store. I've been going on this shopping spree." Tina reached up, touching the necklace around her neck. "Hey, look. I even found this emerald necklace in the antique store."

Lana stared at the glittering green stone. It was beautiful, but something about it made her uneasy.

"Hey, are you okay?" Tina asked. "I stopped by your house earlier, and Nell said you weren't in the best mood, so..."

Lana forced a smile. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

Relief washed over Tina's face. "Good, cause I need a favor. My mom is moving to Metropolis full-time, but see, she doesn't want to pull me out of school. So I was thinking I can move in with you and Nell."

Lana blinked. "For how long?"

"I don't know. A couple of months. I mean, my mom would pay you guys. Trust me, money is not a problem. Just name your price." Tina's enthusiasm grew. "I could even get a horse. Uh, we could go riding together. I mean, wouldn't that be cool?"

Lana shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, uh, just give me some time to think about it. Are you sure your mom's okay with this?"

"Of course. She knows that we're best friends. It was her idea."

Something about this didn't feel right. "Well, just let me run it by Nell first. She's kind of particular."

Tina's expression faltered. "Nell loves me. Look, I don't understand. I thought that you'd be happy." Desperation crept into her voice. "I mean, people even say that we look alike. We could be sisters."

Lana took a step back. "I'm just not sure it's such a good idea."

"Oh." Tina's face fell. Hurt and anger flashed across her features. "Okay, I see, so it was all a lie? I mean, you were just pretending to like me, and then when I come to you in my hour of need, you're just gonna blow me off?"

"Tina, calm down."

But Tina was beyond calming. The hurt was raw now, exposed. Her voice cracked on the words. "No, you should have said yes, Lana. It would have been perfect."

She spun on her heel and stormed off. Students parted to let her pass, whispering and staring. Lana watched her friend disappear into the crowd.

Tina's footsteps echoed in the now-emptying hallway. Her hands shook as she fumbled with her combination. The lock clicked open. She yanked the door wide.

Rage surged through her, hot and sharp and all-consuming. She reached up and tore the emerald necklace from her throat. The chain bit into her skin as it snapped. Then she hurled it into the depths of her locker.

— Meteor Freak —

Martha Kent folded the newspaper. The headline was written in bold letters.

Lex Luther Robs Bank!

"This is incredible. Why would Lex Luthor need to rob a bank?"

Jonathan looked up from buttering his toast. "I've seen some strange things in my day, but this definitely takes the cake." His eyes found Clark, who sat hunched over his cereal bowl, stirring without eating. "Well, almost."

Martha's finger traced the article. "He got away with 100,000 dollars."

"I know Lex. It wasn't him."

"Clark, I know that he's a friend of yours, but come on. You saw him with your own eyes."

Clark's hands clenched into fists on the table. He'd seen Lex. Seen right through him, seen the green infection pulsing in his bones. But that hadn't been Lex, had it?

"I don't know what I saw."

"There must be some kind of reasonable explanation for this. I hope," Martha said.

The screen door creaked. Footsteps on the porch.

"Me too. I hate to think I have an evil twin."

Martha glanced over, surprised not to have heard a car.

"Lex, we didn't hear you pull up."

Lex Luthor appeared at the screen door, his usually immaculate appearance disheveled. His suit jacket hung open, tie askew. Dark circles shadowed his eyes.

"May I come in? I promise I'm not packing heat."

The attempt at levity fell flat. Martha gestured toward the empty chair beside Clark.

"Lex, how come you're not in jail?" Clark asked.

"Because I was hosting a reception for 200 fertilizer distributors in Metropolis at the time of the robbery."

Jonathan set down his coffee mug. "Do the police have any leads?"

"None. That's why I wanted to talk to you, Clark. Your name was on the witness list. Did you actually see this person?"

"Yeah, he looked just like you."

"Except his fingerprints and signature didn't match mine. You sure your eyes weren't playing tricks on you?"

Clark's shoulders sagged. He could only shrug. "What's gonna happen now?"

Lex's smile held no warmth. "Hopefully, the money will turn up. In the meantime, the Metropolis tabloids will have a field day, and I'm sure certain people's opinions of me will be cemented in stone."

"I gotta get to work." Jonathan pushed back from the table, chair scraping against the linoleum. He grabbed his work jacket from the hook.

Lex turned his attention to Clark. "I'm sorry you got thrown through that window. I promise I'm not a criminal mastermind."

Clark's mouth quirked upward, the first hint of humor all morning. "I know. A criminal mastermind would have worn a mask." He paused. "I've gotta get going too. I'm meeting a friend. See you later."

Construction equipment rumbled overhead. Kyla's fingers traced the pictographs on the stone wall where she'd climbed to a precarious perch.

"The pictographs are a lot more detailed up here."

Clark adjusted his flashlight. "What do they say?"

She leaned closer to the ancient symbols, fingers moving reverently across the stone. "It promises that one day Numan will protect the entire world."

The earth trembled. Small pebbles cascaded from the ceiling.

"Luthor's bulldozers. It's been happening all week."

"I don't know if it's very safe for us to be here right now."

"Oh, Clark, get up here. You have to see this."

Clark placed the flashlight on the ground, angling it to light the upper part of the wall. He scaled the rock face to join her.

"What is it?"

"It's Ziget. He's like a brother to Numan." She pointed to a creature with two distinct heads, each facing opposite directions. "Legend has it, one day he'll turn against Numan, and together they'll be the balance between good and evil."

She pulled out her camera and snapped a photo.

Clark's gaze shifted to another section. "Who's that?" He indicated a drawing of a woman with flowing hair, beneath which was carved a distinctive turquoise square.

"It's the woman he's destined to be with."

Kyla's hand moved to her wrist as she spoke, touching the bracelet that adorned it. The gesture caught Clark's attention. A turquoise square identical to the one depicted was embedded in her jewelry.

"That was handed down through the women in my family. I don't even know how old it is."

The ground shuddered more violently. Loose rocks began falling from above.

Kyla's footing slipped.

She tumbled backward from the wall.

"Kyla!"

Time seemed to slow even as Clark moved faster than thought. The world blurred. By the time she fell far enough to scream, he was already on the ground, arms positioned, ready. She landed against his chest, but on the ceiling, he saw a massive boulder break free, plummeting directly toward them. He flipped their positions, laying her on the cave floor and covering her body with his. The boulder hit his back. Should have crushed them both. It should have left him with a shattered spine, ribs, and skull. Instead, it exploded against him, fragments scattering across the cave floor like pebbles.

They looked into each other's eyes. Clark's face was inches from hers. Close enough to see the gold flecks in her brown eyes. Close enough to feel her breath against his lips. Close enough that when she smiled, he could see the wonder in her expression, not fear. Just wonder.

He helped her to her feet.

"How'd you do that?"

"Just adrenaline, I guess."

"No, last time you fell and didn't have a scratch on you and..." She paused, studying his face. "What, you shoot fire out of your eyes, too?"

Clark turned away, unable to meet her gaze.

"Oh, my God. I was just joking. You... you really are Numan."

Clark felt exposed in a way that had nothing to do with physical strength. The secret he'd guarded his whole life lay bare in a cave beneath Smallville. He finally looked at her, expecting fear. Instead, her expression remained calm. Accepting.

"You don't seem very freaked out."

"Because I know what it's like to be different."

Her hand found his chest, resting over his heart. The warmth of her palm seeped through his shirt. He could feel his own heartbeat thundering beneath her touch, too fast, too hard. Could she feel it too? The evidence of just how much this moment meant?

"Clark, it's okay. Maybe this could explain everything I've been feeling the last few days."

"There are a lot of things about me that I can't explain."

"Clark, you don't have to. I grew up around a lot of things that seemed unexplainable."

"Yeah, but I'm—"

Kyla's hand moved to cover his mouth, silencing his protests. Her touch was warm, gentle, but firm. "You try and use logic and reason to try to make sense of it, but you just have to give in."

Her hand remained against his mouth for a heartbeat longer before sliding down to rest against his chest.

"Give in," she whispered, her eyes searching his face.

The distance between them disappeared. Clark's hands found her waist as she rose on her toes to meet him. Their lips touched tentatively at first. Then something deeper took hold. Kyla's fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, urgent and consuming. Her body pressed against his, warm and real and accepting of everything he was. She tasted like mint. Smelled like sage. Felt like hope. The cave, the danger, the secret he'd spent seventeen years hiding, all of it faded until there was only this. Only her.

When her eyes fluttered open, they were filled with something that looked like recognition. As if she'd been waiting her entire life for this moment. For him.

The earth trembled again above them, but neither moved to break their embrace.

Clark and Kyla emerged from the caves, squinting against the harsh afternoon sunlight. The sound of chanting voices filled the air. A group of protesters had gathered outside the construction site, their signs bobbing as they marched.

"Save our sacred land!" echoed across the dusty lot where massive bulldozers sat idle.

Joseph Willowbrook stood at the center of the demonstration. "These caves have been sacred to my people for over a thousand years. LuthorCorp cannot be allowed to destroy our heritage for profit."

Kyla's face lit up when she spotted her grandfather. She jogged toward him. Joseph's stern expression softened immediately when he saw her approaching.

"Grandfather." She wrapped her arms around him.

"How was documenting the caves?"

"We found some incredible pictographs deeper in the system. There are stories carved into those walls that could change everything we know about the early inhabitants."

Joseph nodded approvingly. "The ancestors speak to those who know how to listen."

Clark approached the group. The sound of a car door slamming drew everyone's attention. Sheriff Ethan Miller walked across the construction site. His expression was grim, and the protesters' chanting died away as he approached.

Joseph began, "Sheriff, if you're here to harass me about my permit to protest—"

"Joseph Willowbrook, I'm placing you under arrest for the murder of Dan Hammond, the worker at this construction site."

Several protesters gasped, and one woman dropped her sign. Clark felt his stomach drop along with it. "Wait, murder?" he asked. "There has to be a mistake."

Ethan reached for the handcuffs on his belt. "I found a towel in Mr. Willowbrook's trash with blood on it that matched the victim's."

"Is this LuthorCorp's idea of peaceful coexistence? Framing an innocent man."

"Come with me, sir."

Kyla stepped between them. "This is ridiculous. My grandfather wouldn't hurt anyone. He's dedicated his entire life to peaceful resistance."

"Ma'am, please step aside. This is a police matter."

Joseph placed a gentle hand on Kyla's shoulder, guiding her back. "It's all right, granddaughter. The truth will come out." He looked directly at the sheriff. "I'll come with you willingly, Sheriff. I have nothing to hide."

The other protesters began murmuring among themselves. Clark watched as Joseph extended his hands, allowing Ethan to secure the handcuffs around his wrists.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

Joseph listened without interruption. But Clark could see the pain in Kyla's eyes as she watched her grandfather being treated like a common criminal. Her hands trembled slightly as she fought to maintain her composure.

"You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you."

The protesters began to disperse, their earlier energy replaced by shock and uncertainty.

"Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?"

"I understand."

Ethan placed a hand on Joseph's arm, guiding him toward the patrol car. The older man walked with dignity, his head held high.

Kyla followed them, her steps quick and determined. "Grandfather, don't say anything until we get you a lawyer."

Joseph looked back at her, his expression softening. "Don't worry about me, Kyla. Take care of yourself."

She turned to Clark. "I need to go to the station. See you soon."

Ethan opened the rear door and carefully helped Joseph into the backseat, one hand protecting his head as he ducked down.

Kyla pressed her palm against the window. Joseph placed his cuffed hands against the glass from the inside, and they shared a moment of silent communication. As the car pulled away, Kyla followed it for several steps. When it disappeared down the road, she turned back to Clark, her expression a mixture of desperation and pleading hope, before she continued in their wake.

The afternoon sun was dipping lower as Clark reached the manicured grounds of the Luthor mansion. The heavy oak doors opened before he could knock. Mrs. Palmer nodded politely and gestured him inside.

"How are you, Mrs. Palmer?"

"I'm doing well enough, Clark. How are you enjoying school and football? Amy said that the team is doing okay."

"It's my first year playing, but I'm enjoying it."

They followed the familiar path through corridors lined with expensive artwork. Through the open doorway, he saw Lex seated behind his mahogany desk, cell phone pressed to his ear.

"I understand the timeline is aggressive, but we need those environmental impact reports by Friday. No, that's not negotiable."

Clark stepped into the study.

"Lex?"

Lex held up one finger, indicating he needed another moment. "I'm gonna have to call you back." He ended the call and set the phone down. "Thank you, Mrs. Palmer."

She turned and left the study.

"Clark, is everything all right?"

"I need to raise bail money for Joseph Willowbrook. He's being set up. Did you have anything to do with his arrest?"

Lex's eyebrows rose slightly, and he leaned back in his leather chair. "That's a pretty serious accusation, Clark. Don't get me wrong, I'm impressed by your conviction."

"Where do you stand?"

Lex picked up several leather-bound books from his desk. "Any culture that's left a legacy that would endure for centuries has earned my respect. I'm afraid it's a losing battle. I spoke with my father about it, and he was adamant that the office park project needed to go through. He's not wrong, it'll be a major boon to the town, bringing hundreds of new jobs."

Clark watched as Lex moved toward the spiral staircase that led to the upper level of the study, where floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the walls.

"Isn't there another way? Have you seen what's in the caves? It has to qualify as a historical site."

Lex paused on the stairs, turning to look down at Clark. "Your newfound advocacy wouldn't have anything to do with a beautiful doe-eyed crusader, would it?" When Clark remained silent, Lex continued up the stairs to the bookshelf. "I heard about Kyla."

Clark hadn't realized word had already spread. Small towns had a way of making private matters public knowledge faster than anyone expected.

"Lex, have you ever wondered if you were destined to be with someone?"

Lex's hands stilled on the books he was shelving. The question seemed to strike something deeper than casual conversation. "You're asking someone who's been fighting his destiny his entire life. I'm a little surprised to see you've moved on so quickly. What happened to Lana?"

Clark felt heat rise in his cheeks. "It's a completely different feeling when the person likes you back. Plus, Lana's been spending a lot of time with Tyson."

"Tyson?" Lex's voice carried genuine surprise as he turned from the bookshelf. "What about Kara?"

"You didn't know? I'm surprised you know about Kyla, but not that? Kara broke up with him when she left. He didn't talk about it much, but it was obvious that he was torn up over it. We all tried to help cheer him up. Lana was the one who got through to him the best."

Lex descended the stairs, his expression thoughtful. "And you're okay with it?"

Clark shrugged, trying to appear more casual than he felt. "Lana broke up with Whitney, but it seems like she's been keeping space from Tyson, too. It's only been a few days—"

"But because of Kyla you aren't involving yourself in all the drama."

"Whitney and Tyson have a history. After what happened at the dance, on the surface, Tyson seems like he's buried the hatchet. But I'm not entirely sure he has. He acts cordially, but when he has opportunities, he isn't exactly kind to Whitney. It was Tyson who gave him the concussion. He hasn't been on the field since, and Whitney isn't talking about it, but he couldn't complete his tryout at Met U because of it."

Lex reached the bottom of the stairs, his expression growing more serious. "Can you blame Tyson? I saw him hanging in that field too, remember?"

The memory of that night flashed through Clark's mind. He couldn't argue with Lex's point, but something about the ongoing tension bothered him.

"I'm not saying that he should be trying to be friends with Whitney, but... I don't know."

"High school relationships can get complicated."

"That's for sure. Look, Lex, please, can you help me with the bail money?"

Lex's expression shifted, becoming more guarded. The businessman replaced the friend. "I'm sorry, Clark. But I don't make it a practice to bail out alleged murderers. Especially when he's accused of attacking one of my employees. I have an obligation to the company, and as much as you want to free your friend, I need to find justice for those under my care. You can understand that, right?"

Clark felt his heart sink. He'd hoped Lex would see reason, would understand that Joseph was being framed.

"I guess I can. Maybe I can convince you?"

A short while later, Clark led the way through the narrow passages of the cave system.

"Not that I don't find the dank stench of a cave invigorating, but what does this have to do with Joseph Willowbrook?"

"I wanted you to see them for yourself. This is what he wants to protect."

They emerged into the main chamber where the pictographs covered the walls. Clark angled his flashlight to illuminate the ancient artwork. Lex's expression shifted from mild annoyance to genuine amazement.

"Incredible. These may be more impressive than the caves at Lascaux."

Clark felt a surge of hope. "Joseph and Kyla are trying to get a team down to authenticate them."

Lex moved closer to the wall, his flashlight tracing the detailed figures. "So you're doing all of this for some cave paintings?"

"I'm doing this because I think it's important for people to understand the past. Don't you?"

"Looks like a fascinating story."

"Makes you wonder if the people who drew these paintings thought that we'd be here a hundred years later looking at them."

Lex had moved to a different section, his flashlight lingering on a particular spot. Clark noticed his friend's posture change slightly.

"Somehow, I think they did."

Clark approached. "Lex, these caves are part of our history. Saving these paintings might be the most important thing you'll ever do. What do you think?"

Lex remained silent for a long moment, flashlight steady on the wall. When he finally spoke, his voice carried unexpected weight.

"Maybe more important than anything we can imagine."

— Meteor Freak —

Clark watched Kyla embrace her grandfather. Joseph patted her back gently. The orange jumpsuit had been replaced with his own clothes, but exhaustion lined his face.

Kyla pulled back from Joseph and turned to Clark, wrapping her arms around him. "I can't believe you got Grandpa out so quickly."

Her hair smelled like sage. Clark's heart skipped as she pressed against him. His hands settled on her back, holding her close. The fluorescent lights and cheap tile floors of the police station faded away. There was only this; her body against his. He breathed her in, sage and something uniquely Kyla, and let himself hold her like he'd wanted to since watching the patrol car drive away hours ago.

Joseph straightened his shirt and looked directly at Clark. "Thank you, Clark. Although I don't know how I feel about the fact that it was Luthor money that bailed me out."

Clark stepped back from Kyla's embrace, though his hand lingered on her arm. "Not all Luthors are the same."

Joseph studied Clark's face for a long moment, as if weighing the truth of that statement. Something in Clark's expression seemed to satisfy him.

"Thank you for your help."

Kyla moved to her grandfather's side, slipping her arm through his. "Grandfather, come, let's get you home to rest. Thanks again, Clark."

Clark watched as they walked toward the exit. At the doorway, Kyla turned back to look at him, her smile warm and grateful, before she followed her grandfather into the afternoon sunlight.

The drive home passed in a blur of cornfields. Someone wanted Joseph behind bars. The timing was too convenient. Reaching the farmhouse kitchen, Clark grabbed a glass of water from the sink. The phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Clark?"

Chloe's voice carried that particular tone she used when she'd uncovered something significant.

"Anything new in Joseph's case?"

"You know, Clark, a simple 'Hello, Chloe' goes a long way."

Clark rubbed his forehead. "I know, I'm sorry. I'm just a little..."

"Obsessed? I've noticed. I just got off the phone with the coroner's office. They finished the autopsy, and there's a new development. I guess they found teeth marks in the foreman's bones."

Clark's grip tightened on the phone. "What kind of teeth marks?"

"Canis lupus. Aka wolf."

Relief flooded through him. "Takes Joseph off the hook."

"It's still a few notches this side of normal. I mean, wolves have been extinct in Smallville for ninety years."

Clark could hear papers rustling through the phone. If anyone could find a connection between extinct wolves and a construction site murder, it would be Chloe.

"The tone in your voice tells me you have a Wall of Weird explanation."

"Don't kill the messenger, but I found out that Kyla's tribe name translates into skinwalkers." More rustling paper. "I found a Native American myth where humans transform into animals."

"It's just a legend."

"Clark, sometimes legends are true. You know, this isn't the first time that Joseph's been arrested for his radical tactics."

Clark thought about Joseph's dignity in the face of false accusations, about Kyla's fierce loyalty. These were good people fighting to preserve something sacred.

"Chloe, Joseph's not a murderer. Look, I've gotta go. Thanks for the info."

— Meteor Freak —

Tyson stood on the baseball field at the park, scanning the empty expanse. Not the high school's field, too crowded even after practice. He'd chosen the local Little League diamond, knowing it would be vacant after school hours.

He dragged a large metal garbage can onto the infield, positioning it between first and second base. The scraping sound echoed across the quiet field. He needed to test his power without drawing attention or risking a fire. Finding a safe practice spot was challenging with all the farm fields around.

The Talon theater was out of the question. Couldn't risk burning down his own place after all the work he'd put into it. He placed a long wooden plank across the top of the garbage can, then set a small candle in the center.

He took a few steps back, studying the candle's wick. Concentrating, he flexed his mind.

The wick sparked to life, a small flame dancing atop it. He focused again, and the flame smothered itself out. He nodded, pleased with the ease.

He retreated further, repeating the exercise. The candle lit and extinguished without issue. Emboldened, he strode several more paces back until he stood at the pitcher's mound.

This time, everything went wrong.

The wick ignited, but flames engulfed the entire wooden plank. Fire spread like something alive, hungry, reaching for more fuel. For a second, he couldn't think past the primal response: too much, too fast, out of control.

The further away his target, the less precise his control became.

The power wanted to spread, wild and untamed, like natural fire refusing to be leashed, but eventually, he smothered the flames. He'd been lucky it was just a plank. What if it had been a building? What if someone had been nearby?

Movement caught his eye. A figure approached from behind the batting cages.

Lana Lang.

Beautiful as always, but something was different. The glowing green aura that surrounded her was brighter than usual. Even compared to when he'd seen her earlier at school. It pulsed around her like neon, wrong and insistent.

"What are you doing?" she called.

"Working on a magic trick."

Lana's lips curved into an amused smile. "What is it with boys and magic? It's like every little boy wants to be a magician."

Tyson stepped closer to the barrel, moving back within range where he could safely control his ability. "I'm not a little boy." He snapped his fingers, igniting the candle with a small flame. With a theatrical gesture toward the candle, he grinned. "But, c'mon, you can't say that isn't cool!" He fist pumped to the sky, acting just like the child he claimed he wasn't.

Lana's smile widened. "Okay, that is kind of a neat trick. How'd you do it?"

"A magician never reveals his secrets."

She laughed. "Fair enough. What brings you out here?"

"Just looking for a quiet place to practice. The school field is always so busy. And I didn't want to burn down a building, or something. I'm a magician, not an arsonist."

"I know what you mean. Sometimes it's nice to find a spot away from everyone else." She glanced around the empty field. "Mind if I watch for a bit? I promise I won't try to figure out your secrets."

"Sure. But don't expect anything too impressive. I'm still learning."

Lana settled onto the nearby bleachers, tucking her legs beneath her. "No pressure. I'm just enjoying the company."

Tyson turned back to the candle, aware of her watching. He focused on the small flame dancing atop the wick, extended his hand, palm up, and concentrated. His goal was to coax the flame from the candle to hover above his hand. He knew he couldn't throw or shoot fire yet. His ability was limited to manifesting flames on surfaces and objects. He willed it to separate from the wick without extinguishing it. After what felt like an eternity, the flame began to pull away, just the tiniest bit.

Lana had silently approached while he was engrossed. His concentration shattered. The moment he registered her presence, his control slipped. The small flame winked out, leaving a thin trail of smoke curling from the blackened wick.

Lana had leaned within inches. "Are you almost done playing?"

Tyson blinked, caught off guard by her sudden closeness. "Yeah, I guess I'm good for now." He walked to the garbage bin, hefting it up. As he carried it toward the dugout, he glanced at her. Something felt off, but he couldn't identify it. "Everything alright with you, Lana?"

She met his gaze with strange intensity. "Did you hear about Tina?"

"Umm. I've only been in school for a few weeks. There are so many new people, I'm not sure if I've met her yet."

"She's been a friend of mine since we were little. She cornered me today and asked if she could come live with me and Nell."

"Sounds a little random. What'd you say?"

"I told her it wasn't such a good idea. I've got enough problems with Nell without adding more to the mix."

A memory flashed through Tyson's mind, and he couldn't help but grin. "Aunt's not giving you a hard time because I implied you saw me naked, is she?"

Lana's face contorted in confusion for a moment before smoothing out. She seemed to take his words as a joke, offering a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "She wants me to be something I'm not. It's like having a dual identity. There's the person that everybody sees, and the person that you want to be." He opened his mouth to respond, but she continued. "That's why I came here. I think you're the only person who sees me for who I truly am. I want to thank you for that."

"Lana, we—"

Her lips were on his.

For a moment, all thought stopped. Just the sensation of her mouth on his, her body pressing close. Then his brain caught up. He tried to make sense of this sudden turn. But still, he wrapped his arms around her.

When they finally broke apart, he found himself asking, "What about what happened last week?"

"Forget about that. Forget about Whitney. I've had my eye on you, just like you've had your eye on me."

She pulled him in for another kiss, more passionate than the first. Tyson's thoughts whirled as he tried to reconcile this bold, forward Lana with the girl he'd come to know over the past few weeks. The green aura surrounding her was a constant reminder that something wasn't right.

As they kissed, his enhanced senses picked up on subtle differences. Her touch, while eager, felt somehow impersonal, lacking the genuine warmth he'd experienced in their previous interactions. Doubt crept in. There was more to this situation than met the eye. The strange aura, the sudden personality shift, the out-of-character behavior, all pointed to something beyond a simple change of heart. It couldn't have been what affected her last week, that hadn't changed her aura.

This was something else.

His instincts screamed at him to be cautious. Things were rarely as they seemed in Smallville. As much as part of him wanted to lose himself in the moment, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more going on here than a surprise romantic encounter. Yet, as he looked at her, he couldn't deny her beauty or the allure of her advances.

He let the healing energy flow from his hands into her, but nothing changed in her eyes. It had no effect. She wasn't poisoned this time.

Before he could decide what to do, the moment shattered. Engines rumbled. A series of minivans pulled into the parking lot adjacent to the baseball field, their doors sliding open to reveal a flood of children in uniforms and harried parents.

"Looks like little league practice is about to start."

Lana's grip on him loosened as she turned to watch the commotion. Several mothers, unloading baseball bags, shot disapproving looks in their direction.

"We should get out of here." He gently disentangled himself from her arms.

Lana's gaze, still holding that unfamiliar intensity, locked onto his. "Take me back to your place?"

Tyson blinked, caught off guard by her forwardness. "You want to check on the theater, maybe help with the finishing touches?"

Lana's lips curved into a smile. "That's fine. I don't want to be home around Nell anyway."

They began walking away from the field, leaving behind the disapproving glares of parents and the excited chatter of children.

This Lana was so different from the one he'd come to know. Her behavior, words, and even how she carried herself seemed off.

"You using me as a rebound after breaking up with Whitney?" he asked.

Lana seemed to grasp onto the idea. "Maybe. You opposed to that?"

He couldn't help but look her up and down, taking in her features. She was undeniably beautiful, and the idea of being with her, even as a rebound, was tempting.

He shook his head. "Not really. You just didn't seem the type."

"Well, this is the new me. Take it or leave it."

Tyson snorted, amused by her sudden bravado. "I'll take it."

— Meteor Freak —

— Lemons Begin —

As they entered the theater, Lana stood close to him, her arm brushing against his. "You know. I've always wondered what it would be like to be with someone who sees me for who I am."

"Be with someone…. And you think that's me?"

She turned to face him, studying his reaction. "I know it's you. You're different from everyone else in this town. You don't have any preconceived notions about who I am or who I should be."

They climbed the steps to the apartment above the theater. Before he could push the door open, she grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him toward her. Her lips met his in a fierce, demanding kiss. She guided him back into the bedroom. Her hand on his chest was firm, and with surprising strength, she pushed him back into the room. The door clicked shut behind them. She was strong, far stronger than her small frame suggested.

The force of her shove had him landing in the middle of the bed to creaking springs. She climbed on top of him, her lips never leaving his. The taste of her kiss, the intensity of her desire, it was overwhelming and intoxicating.

He reached down and lifted his shirt over his head, breaking their kiss for only a moment. Her hands roamed over his bare chest.

Despite the heat of the moment, part of him remained alert. The brighter green aura surrounding her was still visible, a vibrant reminder of the unexplained changes in her behavior. Yet, as she kissed him with passion that bordered on frenzy, he found it difficult to hold onto his concerns.

Her hands moved to his shoulders, pinning him to the mattress as she straddled him.

"I want this. I want you."

His response was lost as her lips crashed into his once more. His hands found their way to her waist, fingers digging into the soft fabric of her shirt. He could feel the warmth of her skin through the material. She broke the kiss, breathing hard. Sitting up, straddling his hips, she pulled her shirt off in one fluid motion. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders, framing her face. He took in the sight of her. He could feel the heat of her, the urgency. His hands moved of their own accord, tracing the lines of her body.

They became frantic, each touch, each kiss, stoking the flames higher. Her hands explored his body with an eagerness that was both thrilling and slightly unnerving. She seemed almost insatiable as her lips traveled down his neck. His hands tangled in her hair, holding her close as she explored his body.

Her fingers undid the button of his jeans, never breaking eye contact. There was a wildness in her gaze. He lifted his hips, helping her slide the pants down his legs.

Her hands reached back to the clasp of her bra, working to release it. The garment fell away. His hands moved to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, eliciting a soft moan from her lips. He sat up, wrapping his arms around her as he captured one of her nipples in his mouth. She arched her back, a low growl escaping her throat as she ground her hips against his.

His body responded to her touch, to the feel of her skin against his, to the sensation of her heat pressed against his hard length.

Her hands moved to his boxers, pushing them down to free his erection. She wrapped her fingers around him, stroking with a confidence that didn't match her inexperience. He groaned as she explored his length.

Reaching for the waistband of her jeans, he fumbled with the button in his haste and inability to focus through her handjob. But Lana took mercy on him. She lifted her hips, allowing him to slide the denim down her legs, taking her panties with them.

Their bodies were now bare and intertwined upon the sheets. His hand ventured between them and found her hot, slick. Ready. He explored her tenderly, each caress drawing out moans from her parted lips.

Lana quivered beneath his touch. Her hand joined his, guiding him, showing him what she liked. All the while, she held his gaze as she stroked him.

"Tyson," she breathed, the single word a plea and a promise. Her legs fell open, and she guided him atop her. Reaching between them, she grasped his head and guided it to the threshold of her most intimate place.

He hovered there, his tip teasing her.

With restraint that bordered on agony, he resisted the urge to move, to thrust. Instead, he savored the moment. She closed her eyes, her lips parting as she arched into his touch.

His control was hanging by a thread. But still, he looked at her in askance.

"Please," she whispered.

She wanted this.

With slow, deliberate motion, he eased into her, the warmth of her enveloping him, drawing him deeper. Her gasp mingled with his groan.

Again, he fought the urge to thrust, allowing her to get used to the feeling. The sensation of her tightening around him was almost too much. He held still, giving her body time to adjust.

Soon her hands moved to his sides, guiding him. Her hips rocked against his, setting a gentle, yet insistent tempo. He watched her, her face a portrait of ecstasy, her cries of pleasure growing louder. Her movements became more frenzied. He could feel her inner walls squeezing around him.

He drove deep into her warmth and held himself there. He rocked up and down, maintaining the steady rhythm that had her moaning loudly. Her body trembled beneath his hands, her muscles tensing. The pressure within him was reaching a critical point. But he held on, determined to see her over the edge before succumbing.

Breathy and desperate, she filled the room with her voice. "Please, just like that. Don't stop."

With a final cry, her body convulsed around him. Her inner walls contracted rhythmically, milking him as her orgasm washed over her.

The sensation pushed his restraint to its limits. He managed to hold on as he ground through her orgasm.

Just as she was coming down from her peak, he pulled out.

He stroked himself and, with a low, guttural groan, he let go. His release was powerful, a rush of heat and pleasure that left him feeling lightheaded and euphoric. His shots landed across her belly, up to her breast. Spurt after spurt pulsed from him.

He collapsed onto the bed; she lay beside him, her chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. Their breathing mingled, the sound of their pounding hearts filling the aftermath.

For several long moments, neither spoke. They simply lay there, basking in the afterglow.

As their breathing slowed, he rolled onto his back. He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed some washcloths from the drawer. He gently swiped them across her torso, cleaning up the mess he'd made.

She settled against his side, her head resting on his chest, her leg thrown over his. Her fingers traced idle patterns on his chest, light and soothing. His arm encircled her, his hand coming to rest on the small of her back. The warmth of her skin against his was comforting.

Eventually, she lifted her head, meeting his gaze. "That was... incredible."

He smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Yeah, it was."

But even as he said it, the wrongness crept back in. As their breathing slowly returned to normal, he struggled to reconcile the woman he'd just made love to with the girl he'd met just weeks ago. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.

He knew he should be happy, or triumphant even.

But most of all, he felt a growing sense of unease.

— Lemons End —

— Meteor Freak —

Clark came back in from chores. The screen door creaked as he stepped into the kitchen, where Jonathan sat at the counter with coffee and the day's mail. He looked up with a wry smile. "Kyla called for you. Twice." He handed Clark a folded piece of paper with neat handwriting. "You two certainly seem to be getting pretty serious."

Clark wiped his hands on a dish towel before taking the message, his expression softening at the sight of Kyla's name. "Yeah, I can be myself with her. For the first time in my life, I feel like everything fits. Like we're destined to be together."

Jonathan studied his son's face, noting the way his shoulders tensed despite his words. "But still there's something wrong."

Clark lowered his eyes, confirming the suspicion.

"Why don't you have a seat, son?"

He pulled out a chair and sat heavily, the wood creaking. He stared at the message in his hands, folding and unfolding the corner.

"What's up?"

"I have these feelings for Kyla, and I don't want to doubt her, but I'm not sure she's being honest with me."

Jonathan leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter. "Well, Clark, not everybody's exactly what they seem. I mean, we should know that better than anybody."

Clark's jaw tightened. "Dad, I think she knows more about the foreman's death than she's telling me. She's all about these myths written into the cave walls, but Chloe found some other myths from her tribe that line up with the murder."

The kitchen fell silent except for the tick of the wall clock. Jonathan reached across and squeezed Clark's shoulder. "We'll see what happens, son. The police are doing their investigation, and we shouldn't interfere if possible."

"Yeah, I know, Dad. I'm just worried." Clark stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the linoleum. He headed toward the door, pausing at the threshold. "I'm going to the barn."

The barn smelled of hay and leather polish. Clark sat on a wooden stool, methodically working saddle soap into the worn leather. The repetitive motion helped calm his racing thoughts, but questions about Kyla continued to circle in his mind.

Footsteps crunched on the gravel outside. Clark looked up as Kyla appeared in the doorway wearing a simple white tank top and jeans.

"Hi." She crossed to him and pressed her lips to his. "I thought I was supposed to meet you later."

Clark set down the saddle and cloth, wiping his hands on his jeans. "I needed to talk to you."

Kyla's smile faltered slightly. "Oh. Is everything okay?"

"Kyla, I've been more open with you than almost anyone ever."

"It's okay, Clark. I'm not gonna tell anyone your secret."

"I know, I trust you. That's what makes it so much weirder."

The words sat heavy in his chest. He'd rehearsed this conversation a dozen times in his head, but now that she was here, standing in front of him with those dark eyes full of trust, it felt like betrayal. But he had to know. Had to ask, even if it destroyed everything between them.

Clark took a deep breath. "What do you know about skinwalkers?"

Kyla's expression shifted, surprise flickering across her features before settling into something more guarded. "Have you been studying up on me?"

"The stories say that people can turn into animals. Are they true?"

"The visitor from the stars supposedly brought special green stones, and they had really strange effects on the people. That's when they said the first skinwalkers appeared." Kyla's voice took on the cadence of someone reciting ancient knowledge passed down through generations.

Clark felt his stomach drop. "So they're real."

"It's like you said, Clark, they're just stories." But her eyes didn't meet his when she spoke.

"Like the legend of Numan is just a story? I know how important your grandfather is to you, but I need to know. Is it possible that he's a skinwalker?"

Kyla's face transformed, anger flashing in her eyes. "I can't believe you're doing this!"

"Kyla, they found out that the foreman was mauled by a wolf."

"You can't actually think he's a murderer." Her voice cracked with disbelief and betrayal.

"Joseph would do anything to save those caves." The words felt like glass in Clark's throat, but he had to say them.

"I thought you were on our side." Kyla backed away from him, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

"Those paintings are very important, but not enough to kill innocent people over."

"If this is how you think of us, then maybe we weren't meant to be together after all. My grandfather's right. The Luthors control you all!" She turned and stormed out.

— Meteor Freak —

They strolled down the quiet Smallville street together. The sun had begun to set, bathing everything in warm, golden light.

"Would you like me to walk you home?"

She smiled. "I'd like that. It's time for me to reclaim my life completely."

He found her choice of words peculiar, but quickly dismissed it. They continued their walk in comfortable silence, occasionally stealing glances at each other.

"This life really is perfect," she mused, her voice dreamy. "And you were wonderful, just like I thought."

"Well, I aim to please."

"I don't have any complaints."

As they approached the corner where her street met the road leading to the Kent farm, she came to an abrupt halt. She placed a hand on his arm.

"Let me go from here. I don't want Nell to see you yet. Let me talk with her first and settle things, okay?"

"Sure, no problem."

As they stood there, he noticed a figure jogging toward them from the opposite direction. The runner didn't strike him as anything out of the ordinary, just another Smallville resident out for an evening run. Before he could give it another thought, she pulled him close. Her arms snaked around his neck as she pressed her lips to his in a deep, passionate kiss.

As they kissed, he couldn't help but notice that she seemed different. The tension from earlier had dissipated, replaced by a languid sensuality. Yet, something still felt off, a nagging sensation at the back of his mind that he couldn't quite place.

Their lips remained locked until a familiar voice cut through the haze.

"Tyson?"

Startled, he broke the kiss. His eyes widened in shock as he found himself staring at...

Lana?

"What the hell?" He looked between the two identical figures before him.

The woman he had been kissing still clung to him, her arms wrapped possessively around his neck. The newcomer stood a few feet away with a confused expression.

The two women were mirror images of each other, from their delicate features to their long, chestnut hair. But as he flickered between them, he noticed one crucial difference. The woman in his arms, the one he had spent the afternoon with, was surrounded by that stronger green aura, while the Lana that approached had the normal, more subdued one.

He had encountered enough strangeness in Smallville to know that this was no ordinary case of mistaken identity or long-lost twins.

The woman with the stronger aura tightened her grip on him. Her eyes, which had seemed so alluring moments ago, now held a predatory gleam.

"What's going on?" Lana demanded, trembling with anger and fear. "Tyson, who is that?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out.

He had spent the entire afternoon with this person, believing her to be Lana.

They had talked, laughed, and even...

The realization hit him like a physical blow. His stomach lurched. He'd touched her. Kissed her. Been inside her...

It hadn't been Lana.

None of it had been Lana.

The intimacy he'd thought they'd shared, vulnerable and real, hadn't been real at all. It was all a lie. Worse than a lie. A violation he'd walked into willingly, unable to see the trap.

The woman spoke, a perfect imitation of Lana's voice, but now tinged with malice as she addressed the original. "I'm you. The better version of you. The one who isn't afraid to go after what she wants. The one who accepts her perfect life."

The real Lana took a step back, pale with shock. "This isn't possible."

Tyson attempted to pry the imposter's arms from around his neck.

But her grip was strong, super-strength levels of strong.

"Now, now," the fake Lana chided, mockingly sweet. "Is that any way to treat your lover? After all that we've shared?"

Anger flared white-hot in his chest. This imposter had played him for a fool, wormed her way into his confidence with Lana's face and voice. Worn Lana's skin while he'd—

He summoned his strength and shoved.

The fake let out a startled yelp as her grip broke. The force of his push sent her small frame flying a good dozen feet before she crashed to the ground.

For a moment, she lay in a dazed heap, surprised. But it quickly twisted into a mask of rage. She rose to her feet, strutting back toward them.

He shifted, placing himself firmly between the two women. Jaw clenched, fists balled at his sides, he readied himself. Beside him, the real Lana trembled, eyes wide as the fake approached.

The imposter's tone turned venomous. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?" Her eyes, no longer soft and warm like Lana's, raked over him. "No wonder she was so interested in you. That fire was more than a magic trick, wasn't it?"

Before his astonished gaze, the imposter's slender frame rippled, her features blurring and morphing until the illusion melted away completely. In her place stood…

A girl he didn't recognize.

He tilted his head in confusion. "Do I even know you?"

Lana gasped, hands flying to her mouth. "Tina? But how... why?"

He turned to the girl, perplexed. "Tina? Like the girl you were talking about earlier? Why would you pose as Lana in front of me and talk to me about you? I don't even know you."

Tina let out a derisive laugh. "Oh, you know me now. Intimately. You know every curve." Her laugh bore no resemblance to Lana's melodious giggle. "Why? Because I deserve this life more than you do, Lana. I've watched you squander every opportunity, play it safe, settle for less, and not appreciate everything you have. No more. It's my turn now."

Her form rippled and shifted, her features reforming until she once again wore Lana's face. She approached him with slow, deliberate steps. He tensed, muscles coiled, but her posture wasn't that of someone preparing to attack.

"You were so good," she purred, a perfect imitation of Lana's dulcet tones. She stopped mere inches from him, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her body. "And you're strong. Just let me take care of Lana, forget about her. I'll be your Lana." He clenched his jaw, looking between the real Lana and her doppelganger. The fake's lips curved into a seductive smile as she continued, "We'll be perfect together. I can be Lana, or anyone else you want me to be. This afternoon could be every afternoon."

Her face rippled like water disturbed by a stone. The features blurred, reformed, shifted. When the transformation completed, he found himself staring at a face he'd thought he'd never see again so soon.

Kara.

Every detail was perfect, down to those piercing blue eyes that had looked at him with such warmth their last night together. Even the way a few strands of blonde hair fell across her forehead was exactly as he remembered.

"I've watched you from afar," Tina said, her voice now carrying Kara's confident lilt. "I know what you lost. I could be her. The one who left you." She stepped closer, and he hated how his body responded to the familiar sight. "I could stay. Be everything she was, everything she couldn't be because she left."

The rational part of his mind screamed that this was wrong, but seeing Kara's face again—

Tina's form shifted once more. The blonde hair darkened, the features softening into a face he saw nearly every day. Chloe Sullivan stood before him now. "Or the friend who supports you," she continued in Chloe's voice. "The one who's always there, who understands you." Another shift, this time to Desiree Atkins, their former teacher, and Lex's former fiancé. "I can be anyone. There's no jealousy, no complications. It'll just be you and me, and anyone you want me to be."

She cycled through faces now, each one a woman he'd noticed, admired, or thought about. A cheerleader from school. An actress from a magazine. Back to Lana. Then Kara again, lingering there as if she knew that form cut the deepest.

"All we need to do," Tina said, her voice dropping to an intimate whisper, "is get rid of her." She gestured casually toward the real Lana, as if discussing something as mundane as taking out the trash.

The spell broke.

Whatever temptation had flickered in his chest died instantly, replaced by cold fury. He'd been violated enough for one day. This creature had worn Lana's face, her body, had been intimate with him under false pretenses. And now she stood here, wearing the face of someone he'd cared about, asking him to be complicit in murder.

"No." His voice came out flat, hard.

Tina's expression, still wearing Kara's features, flickered with surprise, then hardened. "Think about what I'm offering. No more pining after girls who leave. No more wondering if you're good enough. I'll be whoever you need, whenever you need it."

"I said no."

Behind him, he heard Lana's sharp intake of breath. He didn't turn, keeping his eyes locked on the shapeshifter. She raised her hand, fingers ghosting along his jawline. "I took care of my mom, and I know you're alone. There's nothing to hold us back. We can just leave together. Or stay and be prom king and queen. It'll be perfect."

The real Lana stood frozen, her face a mask of fear and desperation. She locked onto his gaze, silently pleading for him to see through the deception.

His hand moved, slowly reaching up to cover Tina's.

For a moment, hope flared in her eyes, while despair threatened to overwhelm Lana. But then he gently pulled her hand away from his face, bringing it down between them. They stood there, hands locked together.

When he spoke, his voice was low and tinged with regret.

"It's a shame that the hottest girls are always the crazy ones."

Confusion flickered across her face, quickly replaced by shock, literally, as his hand began to glow.

Electricity crackled between their joined palms, arcing up her arm and engulfing her entire body. White-hot and vicious. The current didn't just flow through her, it invaded her, claimed her, ripped through every nerve ending. She convulsed, a scream tearing from her throat. The sound was raw and animal and real.

Lana stumbled back, horrified as she watched him unleash his power. The air filled with the acrid scent of ozone, and Tina's form flickered rapidly, shifting between her own appearance and Lana's as she lost control of her abilities. Face melting and reforming, melting and reforming, unable to hold any shape as the electricity ravaged her system.

He gritted his teeth, maintaining his grip on her hand even as she thrashed and bucked. He could feel her power now, a slippery, ever-shifting energy that seemed to dance just beyond his grasp. It was elusive, much like its physical manifestation of shapeshifting, like trying to hold water in his hand, always slipping through his fingers. As the seconds ticked by, his awareness of her power grew stronger. With each surge of electricity he poured into her, he felt that power weakening, becoming more vulnerable. Becoming thicker, more viscous. Almost solid. Instinctively, he reached out with his mind, grasping at the tendrils of her ability. Sweat beaded on his brow as he pushed himself to the limit, wrestling with the alien energy that coursed through her body. It fought him, writhing like something alive, desperate not to be taken.

But he was stronger.

Her screams had faded to whimpers, her body going limp as he continued his assault. Her features flickered more slowly now, the transitions between forms becoming sluggish and incomplete. It was as if her power was a battery being drained, its energy seeping away under his relentless attack.

Lana watched in stunned silence, her hand pressed against her mouth. The scene before her was terrifying.

With a final push, he mentally reached out and seized her power, pulling it into himself.

The effect was immediate and overwhelming.

Her body went rigid, her back arching as her power was forcibly torn from her. He felt the alien energy flood into him. It poured into him, spreading through his veins and settling into his bones. The sensation was like his entire body had been turned inside out and reassembled wrong. His skin tingled, crawled, itched from the inside. For a terrifying moment, he couldn't remember what his own face looked like. Couldn't remember if the hands he was looking at were really his hands.

As quickly as it had begun, the transfer was over.

Tina collapsed to the ground, unconscious and once again in her true form. He staggered back, his head spinning as he tried to process the new sensations coursing through his body.

Lana rushed forward, her fear momentarily forgotten as concern for him took precedence. "Tyson! Are you okay? What... What just happened?"

He blinked, his vision slowly coming back into focus. He looked down at his hands, half expecting them to be shifting and changing before his eyes. But they remained solid. Yet, he could feel the potential thrumming just beneath his skin, a new power waiting to be unleashed. Foreign but undeniably his now.

"I took her power." He looked up at her, seeing the worry etched on her face. "I can feel it inside me. It's like... like I could become anyone or anything."

Her eyes widened, darting between him and the unconscious form of Tina on the ground.

"We need to settle this." He nodded toward her house. "Go inside and call the police. Tell them... well, tell them we have Tina Greer. She said that she took care of her mother and tried to hurt you."

"But what about you? And her? I can't just leave you out here alone."

He managed a weak smile. "Don't worry about me. I'll keep an eye on her until the police get here. Trust me, I can handle her."

Finally, she gave a short nod. "Okay. But be careful." She spared one last troubled look at Tina before turning and sprinting for her house.

Tyson watched her go, then turned his attention back to Tina. Crouching down he laid two fingers against her neck, checking her pulse. It beat steadily beneath his touch.

When Lana returned, he heard the wail of sirens in the distance.

— Meteor Freak —

Lex settled into the leather armchair beside the crackling fireplace, reaching for a crystal decanter, he poured himself three fingers of Hennessy. He leaned back and took a measured swallow, savoring the burn that spread through his chest.

The mansion felt different tonight. Quieter. More isolated, as it had been since the wedding fiasco with Desiree.

Something scraped against the exterior wall near the front entrance.

Lex's head snapped toward the sound. Metal grinding against stone, deliberate and rhythmic.

Heavy thumping echoed through the oak door, followed by the distinct sound of claws scratching against wood. Long, deliberate gouges.

"Who's there?"

The scratching intensified, accompanied by a low growling. Lex grabbed the cordless phone from the end table.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"This is Lex Luthor at the Luthor mansion on Route 40. Someone is attempting to break into my home. Send units immediately."

"Sir, are you in immediate danger?"

The scratching stopped abruptly. Lex pressed the phone closer to his ear, straining to hear any movement outside.

"I think they've moved away from the door, but—"

A bone-chilling howl pierced the night air, long and mournful, rising from somewhere beyond the front entrance. The sound sent primal fear racing down his spine. Another howl. Then another.

"Sir? Sir, are you there? We have patrol cars answering a car nearby, we're routing them to your location."

Lex lowered the phone, his breathing shallow as he listened. The howls faded into the distance, leaving only the crackling fire and his own heartbeat thundering in his ears.

Something shifted behind him.

Every instinct screamed danger as he turned slowly in his chair. Above him on the second-floor balcony that overlooked the study, between the bookshelves, a massive wolf crouched on the railing. Its yellow eyes locked onto his, and saliva dripped from its bared fangs as it released a sharp bark.

Lex rose from his chair with deliberate slowness, never breaking eye contact with the predator. The wolf's muscles coiled beneath its dark fur, and its ears flattened against its skull.

"Easy," he whispered, backing toward the pool table.

The wolf launched itself from the balcony, landing with a heavy thud on the green felt surface. The pool balls scattered and clattered to the floor as the creature found its footing. Now they stood face to face, separated by mere feet. The animal's lips pulled back in a snarl, revealing teeth designed for tearing flesh. Its hackles rose as it leaned forward, front paws gripping the edge of the table, and released a series of aggressive barks that made Lex's ears ring.

He continued his careful retreat, hands raised, until his back hit the stone fireplace. The wolf tracked his every movement, then shifted its weight, preparing to leap, when Clark Kent burst through the study doors.

"Joseph!"

The wolf's barking ceased. Its ears perked forward as it turned toward Clark, and something almost human flickered in its eyes.

Heavy footsteps pounded through the corridors as two police officers rushed into the study, shotguns raised and trained on the wolf.

"Don't move!"

"No, no!" Clark stepped between the officers and the wolf. "Don't shoot."

The wolf's attention snapped back to the immediate threat. It leaped from the pool table in a single bound, racing toward the massive stained glass window. The colored glass exploded outward in a shower of rainbow fragments as the creature crashed through, disappearing into the night.

Clark sprinted to the shattered window, his boots crunching on broken glass. A large triangular shard remained embedded in the frame, its razor-sharp point glistening with fresh blood.

Without hesitation, Clark vaulted through the opening and disappeared into the darkness beyond.

"Joseph! Joseph!"

His voice carried across the grounds as he searched the shadows between the trees. Moonlight filtered through the canopy, creating patches of silver light that guided his path deeper into the woods.

He found the wolf collapsed in a small clearing, its flanks rising and falling in labored breaths. Dark blood pooled beneath its body, staining the fallen leaves.

As Clark approached, the creature's form began to shift.

Bones restructured with wet, audible pops. Fur receded into smooth skin. The muzzle shortened, reformed into a human face. Paws became hands, claws retracting into fingernails. The transformation was neither quick nor painless, each change seemed to cost something, the wolf's whimpers becoming more human with every passing second until a young woman lay curled on the forest floor, gasping for breath.

"Kyla? No. No!"

Clark dropped to his knees beside her, shrugging out of his jacket to cover her naked form. He gathered her into his arms, cradling her against his chest as her blood soaked through his shirt. She was so small like this, so fragile. Her skin was cold, too cold, and getting colder.

"Kyla. Come here. Come here. You're okay. Come here. You all right?"

Her voice emerged as barely a whisper. "I didn't want to hurt the foreman, Clark."

"Okay, okay." Clark's voice cracked. He'd been so sure it was Joseph. So certain. And all this time it had been her, carrying this secret.

"Why didn't you tell me it was you?"

"I didn't want to lie, but I saw the look in your eye when you thought it was my grandfather."

That hit him hard. She'd seen his suspicion, his doubt, and it had driven her further into silence. "I'm sorry, Kyla."

"You're the first person I thought I could trust." Her words came slower now, each one an effort. "I knew that you knew what it felt like to carry such a big secret."

Clark's chest tightened. She'd trusted him with the truth of who he was, and he'd repaid that trust with accusations. He looked down at her pale face, and something strange happened to his vision.

The world shifted, again.

Everything became transparent, as if he could see through solid matter. The same as it had when he'd seen Lex rob the bank. Kyla's skin faded away, revealing the intricate network of bones, organs, and blood vessels beneath. He could see her heart struggling to pump, could see the blood flowing through her veins... except where it wasn't. The glass shard had severed a major artery. Blood pumped steadily from the wound with each heartbeat, pooling in places it shouldn't be. He watched it happen in real-time, her life draining away beat by beat.

"I have to get you help."

— Meteor Freak —

Tyson sat on Lana's porch. The police had taken their statements, and Tina was now in custody. They sat on the same bench, but a noticeable gap separated them. The silence between them felt charged, filled with unspoken thoughts and emotions.

She finally broke through the stillness. "So, you slept with Tina, thinking she was me?"

He exhaled slowly, his shoulders slumping. "Seems like it."

Her gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon. The sunset painted everything in shades of orange and red, but she didn't seem to see any of it. "Not sure how I feel about that."

"Me neither."

She turned to face him. The hurt in her eyes was naked, exposed, and it made something twist in his gut. "I thought we were friends. I didn't know you'd be so quick to take me back to your room."

"Are you mad?"

"I just thought that you were interested in me for more than my body."

He raised his hands. "Whoa, it's not like that." He paused, trying to find the right words. Trying to make her understand. "I like you, Lana. But I'm not going to deny that I'm attracted to you. Tina came on strong. I could've pushed her away, but I wouldn't push you away. You know that. I stopped you before. You're making it seem like I'd just take from you if given the opportunity. And I had the opportunity, and I didn't. I even healed her to make sure you hadn't been affected by any meteor rocks or whatever, again."

Her expression softened slightly, but the conflict in her eyes remained. She looked torn, caught between wanting to believe him and the evidence of what had happened.

The porch creaked as he shifted his weight. "I never meant for any of this to happen. When Tina showed up, looking exactly like you, I was caught off guard. I should have known something was off, but I was... I was flattered, I guess. Elated even. I thought we had a connection, and you felt it too."

Her fingers twisted in her lap. The movement was small, unconscious, but he noticed it. Noticed how she couldn't quite look at him now. "But you didn't question it? Not even for a moment?"

He shook his head, his face flushing with embarrassment. "I did. I said I did. Healing didn't change anything, but I was still suspicious. Well, I was, at first. But Tina... she was convincing. She said all the right things. I thought maybe you had decided to take a chance."

A cool breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees. The evening was settling in around them, the temperature dropping. Her voice was quiet when she spoke again. So quiet he had to lean forward to hear. "I just don't understand how you could think I would do that. Go to your apartment out of the blue, ready to... to sleep with you."

Each word felt like an accusation, and maybe it was. Maybe he deserved it.

His shoulders sagged. "I know. It was stupid of me. I should have known better."

She met his gaze, searching for sincerity. "Then why did you go along with it so easily?"

He took a deep breath. This was the heart of it, wasn't it? The thing he'd been avoiding saying out loud because it made him sound desperate. "Because when I thought you were there, wanting to be with me, I couldn't bring myself to question it too deeply. I wanted it to be true."

A flicker of understanding crossed her face, but it was quickly replaced by something more complicated. Sadness, maybe. Or disappointment. "That doesn't make it okay. You should have known it wasn't me. The real me wouldn't have done that."

The words stung because they were true. The real Lana would never have thrown herself at him like that. He'd known it deep down. He just hadn't wanted to admit it.

"You're right." The words came out heavy. "I messed up big time. I let my feelings cloud my judgment, and I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you or betray your trust."

She seemed to soften slightly at his earnest apology, her rigid posture relaxing just a fraction. "I believe you didn't mean to hurt me. But it still hurts, knowing that you thought I would act that way. That you were so quick to... to be intimate with someone you thought was me."

He nodded, accepting her words. There was nothing else to do. No defense that would make this better. "I get it."

They sat in silence for a moment. The crickets had started their evening song, filling the air with their rhythmic chirping. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. Normal sounds. Normal life continued around them while everything between them felt broken.

"I don't know where we go from here." Her voice cracked slightly on the last word, and she cleared her throat. "I thought we were building something... a friendship, maybe more. But now, I'm not sure what to think."

His chest tightened with the possibility of losing what they'd started. They'd barely begun, and already he'd ruined it. "I understand if you need space. I never wanted to complicate things between us. If you want me to stay away, I will."

She shook her head slowly. "This is Smallville. We're bound to keep running into each other. But I think... I need some time to process everything that happened tonight."

"Of course. Take all the time you need. I'll be around when you're ready to talk again, if that's what you want." He hesitated, then added with genuine concern, "Despite the mess I caused, I am thankful you're okay. And that I was able to stop Tina before..." His voice trailed off.

"I appreciate you saying that. And despite how upset I am, I'm glad you're safe too. Stopping Tina took real courage, especially after..." She paused, searching for the right words.

"...especially after what she put you through."

The weight of Lana's words seemed to shift something in her expression. Her eyes widened slightly, as if she'd just realized something important. Something that changed everything. Before he could respond, she moved. Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. The suddenness of it caught him off guard. He stiffened for a moment, uncertain, then slowly relaxed into the hug.

"I'm sorry," she whispered against his shoulder. "I was so focused on how this affected me that I didn't think about what Tina did to you."

He didn't know what to say. The warmth of her body against his felt both comforting and confusing. His hands hovered awkwardly before settling gently on her back.

She pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him. Her eyes were wet, threatening tears. "What happened to you tonight... that wasn't okay. She tricked you. She manipulated you into thinking she was me, and then she..." Her voice cracked. "I don't know if you see it that way, but what she did was wrong. Really wrong."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He hadn't let himself think about it much in those terms. Hadn't wanted to examine too closely what it meant that Tina had worn Lana's face, used Lana's voice, pretended to be someone she wasn't to get him into bed.

"Lana, I—"

"No, let me finish." She gripped his arms, her fingers pressing into his biceps. "You couldn't have consented to what happened because you didn't know who you were really with. She took that choice away from you. From both of us."

The evening air suddenly felt colder. He'd been so caught up in his own guilt, in feeling like he'd betrayed Lana's trust, that he hadn't considered himself a victim in this. But hearing Lana say it out loud showed the cracks.

"I should have known," he said quietly. "I should have realized it wasn't you."

"How?" Her voice was fierce now, protective. "She looked exactly like me. You're not at fault for being fooled by someone with that kind of ability."

He looked down at their feet. His sneakers and her sandals, side by side on the wooden porch. "I still feel like I let you down."

The words felt inadequate. Hollow. But they were all he had.

They lapsed into silence, both lost in their thoughts. In the distance, it sounded like a wolf howled. Tyson idly wondered if there were wolves in Kansas.

Finally, she stood up, smoothing down her clothes. "I should probably head inside. It's getting late and after everything that's happened..."

He rose to his feet as well. "Of course."

She nodded, her hand resting on the doorknob. She paused there, her back to him, as if she wanted to say something else. But the moment passed. "Goodnight. Be safe getting back to town."

"Night."

As she disappeared into the house, he remained on the porch for a moment longer. The door clicked shut with a finality that seemed to echo in the evening air.

With a heavy sigh, he descended the porch steps and began the walk back to Main Street.

He'd made it down the long road Lana's house shared with the Kent farm when Clark appeared. Tyson barely looked up from his feet as he felt the rush of displaced air and wind that accompanied the superspeed.

"Hey, man, you missed the action."

"Tyson, can you heal her?"

He looked up to see that Clark had a woman in his arms. It was Kyla, the native girl from the caves. Blood covered them both, leaking from a large laceration just below her ribs. Her breathing came in shallow, ragged gasps.

He didn't ask any questions.

Golden light immediately flowed from his raised palms, washing over Kyla's broken form. The energy pulsed and shimmered as it found each wound, each injury that needed mending.

The gash on her torso sealed first, the torn flesh knitting together like invisible threads pulling the edges closed. The blood that had been flowing freely slowed to a trickle, then stopped entirely as new skin formed. The swelling receded as muscles and tendons repaired their damaged connections. The marks faded like chalk being erased from a blackboard. Where deep gouges had torn through skin and muscle, healthy pink flesh emerged. Her breathing deepened and steadied as internal injuries healed. Color returned to her pale skin, starting from where the golden light touched her and spreading outward. The grayish pallor of blood loss gave way to a healthy flush. Her lips, which had been nearly white, regained their natural rose hue.

Kyla's eyes fluttered open. She blinked several times, focusing on Clark's face above her.

"I'm sorry," she cried into Clark's shirt. "I'm so sorry."

Tyson noticed she was naked under Clark's jacket, her clothes apparently lost or destroyed in whatever had happened to her. He pulled his shirt over his head and offered it to them. "Uh, I'm going to let you handle whatever this is."

Clark shifted Kyla carefully in his arms so she could slip the shirt on. The fabric hung loose on her smaller frame, but it covered her adequately.

"Good luck," Tyson continued, backing away from the scene. "If anyone else needs healing for some reason, I'll be at the theater."