Just thinking about the situation with Clark made Dean feel sick to his stomach. He needed advice.

He almost picked up the phone to call his dad, but he knew exactly how that conversation would go. His dad wouldn't give him advice; he would bark orders, and whether or not Dean jumped to obey, he would step in and have his own way with the situation. So instead, Dean dialed Bobby.

Bobby picked up after a couple of rings, like he always did. "Hello."

"Hey, Bobby."

"That you again, Dean? How did things go with the demon?"

"There were some bumps on the road, but it's all wrapped up now." Dean seriously hoped he was right about that. "I've got a question about…" Dean winced. He wasn't sure exactly how to word what was on his mind.

"You still there?"

"Yeah, just..." He shifted the phone to the other ear. "Have you ever met a monster you couldn't kill?"

"Well, yeah. Every hunter has a handful of unfinished cases."

"That's not what I mean." Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "Do you think it's possible for a monster to be… good?"

A long pause.

Dean swallowed against the dryness in his throat. "I mean, have you ever met… A ghost, or a demon, or–or a shape shifter or something that wasn't evil?"

Bobby sighed heavily. "You hear stories. Werewolves that don't eat human hearts, ghosts that don't attack. But, son, if you came to investigate because of bodies being dropped, chances are it'll happen again, even if it looks safe. You be careful, ya hear?"

"I hear."

"So what's the story with your case? "

Dean started pacing again. "The... monster, he seems like a nice guy. Family man, real pillar of his community. Wouldn't hurt a fly."

"But…"

"Got himself drugged up. Robbed a half dozen banks, maybe a dozen counts of assault and battery."

"Sounds like he needs to be in rehab. Or in prison."

"Trust me, I don't think any prison will hold him."

"So what kind of creature are you thinking?"

Dean had asked Bobby, when he was a kid, about aliens. He could still remember Bobby's response. There was no point in asking him about that. "Might be something new and different."

"You check the lore?"

"Yeah," Dean said, because it was easier than trying to explain what he hadn't done. "He's got… strength and speed like a Wendigo, and a few other supernatural abilities aside. Real powerful."

"Any luck on a weakness?"

"No, but I have a few leads." He frowned. "Bobby, I'm not sure if I should be hunting him."

"Has he killed anyone?"

"Not that I know of."

"Do you think he will?"

Dean didn't know how to answer that. "I don't think so. But there's a lot I don't know here."

"What did your old man say?"

"Honestly? I didn't call him."

"You're on a solo hunt?"

"Yeah, I guess. And I know what he would tell me. Shoot first, ask questions later."

"And I agree with him there, if you know you're dealing with a monster."

"Come again?"

"Well, sounds like it's not anything we've dealt with before, unless you missed something in the lore."

"I'm pretty sure."

"And… he's never killed anyone, correct?"

"Yeah."

"Anyone in his life know about his abilities? Maybe they can give you some insights"

Dean grimaced. He didn't think he should be asking Aunt Martha and Uncle Jon. They wouldn't exactly be unbiased. But… Lex had a rational mind. If he had decided Clark was harmless enough not to go calling hunters about him, maybe he would have a different take on what Dean had seen in those tapes.

"Yeah," Dean said. "I think I know who to talk to."

"Work the case, Dean, but the ending doesn't always have to be the same. You've got a good head on your shoulders, son. You can use your judgment."

"And what if I choose wrong? What if… I let him live, and he kill someone later? Isn't their blood on my hands?"

"Don't you buy into that crap, Dean. That's not how it works. You make your best call, and that's the best you can do." He paused a moment, then he said, "If we went around killing everyone and everything that might ever hurt someone, it would become some other hunter's job to kill us."

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"I got it," Dean said. "Thanks for the help. "

"Anytime."

Dean hung up.

He walked out to Lex's study to pour himself a drink. Lex's liquor was horrible, but Dean needed something that strong tonight. He wished he could talk to Lex now and didn't have to wait for the morning.

Lex was sitting at his desk when they got there. He had a glass of his own in his hand.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" Dean asked.

"Could say the same to you," Lex said.

Dean poured himself a drink. "Since we're both up, can I talk to you about something?"

"What's that?"

"Clark."

Lex set up a little straighter. "Is he OK?"

"Far as I know. But I, ah, I found out his secret." He figured it was best to start with that so that Lex knew they could speak openly.

Lex raised his eyebrows. "He tell you himself?"

"No, actually. I saw some security footage from a few places in Metropolis." Dean knocked back a shot, shook his head, and poured a second. "He's gone rogue, I guess because of the red kryptonite."

"He hurt someone?"

"Yeah. A lot of people. Couldn't believe my eyes. I've seen speed and strength like that, but the fire coming out of his eyes was a new one for me."

"Yeah, I guess it would be."

"I didn't even think aliens existed."

"Neither did I."

The look on Lex's face wasn't quite what Dean had expected. He looked almost amused. Still, he went on. "I just… I don't know what to do, Luthor. It's my job to take people like this down."

Lex looked down at the glass in his hand, nodding slowly. "I trust Clark, Dean."

"He lies all the time."

"That's not what I'm talking about. I don't trust his word; I trust his character. He's a good kid."

"And if he was robbing banks? Assaulting people?"

"Clark has...off days. But he always snaps out of them. And he always fixes his mistakes."

"So you think he's not a danger?"

"I don't think he's dangerous. He might need some guidance, but what 16-year-old doesn't?" Lex looked away. "I needed a lot more when I was 16. I think Uncle Jon is a lot more up to the task than my father was."

Dean sipped at his second shot. That satisfied him—he wasn't going to have to hunt Clark. He would keep an eye on him, absolutely, but Lex made a good point about uncle Jon. Relief flooded through Dean, and he took a seat across from Lex. "So. When did he tell you?"

"He didn't."

"You found out too?"

Lex chuckled. "You could say that."

Something about the way Lex said that hit Dean the wrong way. "What's going on between you two? Things seemed... tense."

"Well, I can tell you he's not going to be thrilled about the conversation we're having."

Dean's eyes widened. "Did you accuse him of being dangerous?"

Lex breathed in to speak, but he stopped himself.

It dawned on Dean all at once. "You didn't know."

"Oh, I suspected it was something."

"Did you call him out for lying?"

"He didn't care much for that."

"When did that happen?"

"About a year ago."

Dean felt his heart sank. No wonder Clark hadn't been part of the wedding party. "What happened?"

"Doesn't matter. He lied to me. I invaded his privacy. He made it… abundantly clear he didn't want to hear my apologies or offer his." Lex put two fingers to his jaw, leaving Dean no doubt as to what had happened.

It wasn't as if Dean had never socked Sam, but if he did it when Sam didn't deserve it, he always apologized within the day. Clark hadn't come back for a year. And if it was just about Lex investigating? That was what hunters did. That was what Clark did, too. The hypocrisy was staggering.

Maybe it was the long night. Maybe it was the liquor. Or maybe it was the fact that Sam's betrayal had been so recent. Whatever the case was, Dean's blood boiled at that.

Uncle Jon could deal with the theft and assault in Metropolis. But the way Clark had treated Lex?

Dean wasn't going to just let that go.

----------------------------------------

Clark woke the third time that night to the sound of the baby's cries. His mom had been up both times to take care of her; she must have been exhausted. He could help his mom if he went to take care of the baby—she deserved the rest. He pulled himself out of bed and went over to the nursery.

There she lay, her little blanket twisted around her feet, face scrunched up and pink from crying. Clark reached down to untwist the blanket so he could pick her up.

It was his blanket. The red one he had used when he was a baby.

Suddenly, he couldn't pick her up. Guilt flooded through him at the thought. He had no right to feel jealous of her. His parents had never said anything to indicate he was any less their son; far from it, they had been nothing but kind to him since he stepped foot in their house, despite everything he had done to them.

Still, he couldn't pick up the baby who had been named after him. Couldn't even touch her.

"Hey," came a whisper from the doorway, and Clark looked back to see his dad, hair ruffled, dark shadows under his eyes. "Everything OK?"

"Yeah," Clark said. "I'm just… babies are really fragile, and…"

His dad picked up the baby, adjusting her to rest on his chest while he patted her back. "She's not any more fragile than the baby animals you're used to handling. "

"Right. "

His dad gave him a curious look. "Son, are you OK?" He reached out toward Clark with his free hand.

Clark stepped back, avoiding the touch. "Yeah. I just… baving a hard time sleeping."

His dad frowned, and Clark went out to the barn and up to the loft.

Clark had spent the night before out here as well. He wasn't sure if his parents had noticed, though. Strictly speaking, Clark had never really had to sleep in the past. Now that he was human, until he could meet Sam at the power plant—Sam had been squaring away a few details—Clark did have to sleep, but he couldn't.

So instead of sleeping, Clark spent the time thinking about running away again. It would be easier, but he wasn't sure it would hold if he didn't use the red Kryptonite—and he was never going to do that again.

When the morning dawned, though, there was a loud knock on the door frame of the barn. Clark came down the stairs to see Dean stalking in.

"Dean?"

Before Clark could say or do anything, Dean coiled a fist back and swung.

Clark's jaw exploded with pain, the force knocking him back. "Ah!"

"What the hell are you thinking?" Dean yelled. "You and Sam got something against being there for your family?"

Clark's head spun. He pressed a hand to his face, though it didn't help much with the pain.

"All the lies, all the hypocrisy. I used to admire you, Clark."

"How did you find out?" He had never talked to Dean about what he had done.

"Security footage from your exploits in Metropolis. Got talking to Lex about it."

Dread pooled in Clark's stomach. "You found out my secret, and you went and told Lex?"

"I assumed he knew! You guys were brothers! What happened to you, Clark? When did you start walking out on your family?"

He shook his head. "I—Lex isn't my family, Dean."

"Oh, and I guess Ellie isn't, either?"

"No!"

It was quiet for a moment.

"I mean… I don't…"

"What happened, Clark?"

Clark felt his eyes starting to sting. "I messed up…"

"No kidding."

"No, I mean, my mom, she was pregnant with twins. I… I did this thing that made my spaceship blowup, and she ended up getting caught in the explosion, and my little brother died."

"Are they mad at you?"

"They should be. They should disown me. I'm not… I'm not even their real kid."

Dean took a long, deep breath. "Now, you listen to me."

He took a step closer, and Clark cringed.

"Your parents love you, and that's more than a lot of us can say. When you've got something like that… you don't walk away from it."

Clark felt like he couldn't pull in a breath.

"Now, you go in there, and you let them forgive you. And then you go forgive Lex for whatever crap is between you two."

Clark hung his head. "I can't."

"You have to."

"I don't trust Lex."

"How many times have you lied to me?"

"I..." Clark shook his head. "That's different."

"Yeah? How many times did you slug Luthor?"

Clarks heart begin to pound. "Uh… twice, I guess."

"Make things right with your family, all of them, and I'll forget I owe you a second one."

Clark swallowed. "OK," he said, because he didn't have many choices.

Dean nodded and started walking toward the door.

"Dean?"

Dean looked back.

"Sam loves you, too."

Dean looked down, then back at Clark. "Point taken," he said, and he left the barn.