Clark couldn't sleep. He had managed to sleep on the first night just because he was so mentally exhausted from the day, but now that that had worn off, he was left with the excitement as well as the strangeness and slight nervousness from being away from home. He didn't mind, though. The bed was really comfortable, and it was kind of exciting to get to think about all the fun things he was going to do tomorrow.

He could hear Sam snoring lightly in the next room. He knew Dean and Lex were still awake. He wondered if they might be getting up to some kind of trouble, but if they were, he wasn't sure he wanted to know about it. He didn't want to get them in trouble, but if he found out they were doing something bad, he would have to tell his dad about it, or his dad would call it lying.

He heard one of the doors open and close, but he never heard the other one. That meant either Dean or Lex was staying awake. Maybe they would come to bed soon. Clark listened for another door to open, but it never did. When five minutes passed, Clark jumped out of bed and walked out into the common area.

Dean was just opening the door out into the hallway.

"Are you okay?" Clark asked.

Dean jumped and closed the door, turning around to face Clark. "Jeez, Clark, you scared the . . . What's wrong?"

"That's what I was coming to ask you," Clark said.

"Shouldn't you be asleep? It's after one in the morning."

"I couldn't sleep. Where are you going after one in the morning?"

Dean's jaw stiffened a little. "Got hungry."

"There are a million snacks in the suite, you know."

"Yeah, but Lex recommended . . ." Dean winced.

Clark crossed his arms. "You're really not going to tell me?"

"Go to bed, Clark. Enjoy the suite. This doesn't concern you."

Clark hadn't been around Dean too much, but he recognized that voice. It was the voice Dean used when he was talking about a hunt. "You think there might be a monster here? On the island?"

"No! I mean, maybe. It's just . . ." Dean glanced in the direction of the other bedrooms, then he took a step closer to Clark, lowering his voice. "I don't want you or the other guys to worry."

"You're worried."

"Yeah, but it's my job to be a little paranoid. You get to just be a regular kid. So . . . go enjoy that."

For a fleeting moment, Clark wished Dean knew how ridiculous that statement was. He couldn't tell him the truth, though, so he just said, "If you're going to check out the hotel, wouldn't it be smart to have backup?"

Dean's eyes narrowed. "You're eleven."

"Almost twelve."

"Clark, I wouldn't even take Sam with me on that werewolf hunt a couple of summers ago. He was fourteen, and trained as a hunter."

"He followed you anyway."

"And when I caught him, I slugged him."

Clark's insides squirmed. He wasn't afraid of Dean, but if Dean actually did try to hit him hard, that would definitely reveal his secret. "You wouldn't slug me. My dad would kill you."

"You wouldn't tell him. He'd get upset with you first, for disobeying me. Didn't your dad leave me and Lex in charge?"

Clark groaned. He was never going to be able to talk Dean into this. He'd just have to sneak out like Sam did last summer. The difference was, Clark was a lot better at not getting caught. "Okay. But if you're not back by morning—"

"You're gonna tell Lex, and he's gonna come looking for me. And you and Sam are going to stay safe and mind your own business, unless you want your asses kicked."

"Fine." Clark tried not to show his frustration on his face. "Be safe, okay?"

"Hey. Don't worry about me. I'm sure there's nothing, I just . . . need to take a look. For my own peace of mind."

Clark gave him a smile, and he went back to his own room. He listened for the door into the hallway to open and close, counted silently to fifty, then sped out into the living room and into the hall.

He peeked down one hall—Dean was headed down that one—and bolted down a different way just as Dean was starting to turn his head. Clark sighed in relief. Dean definitely would have caught him if it hadn't been for his speed.

Now that Clark was sure he was alone and safe, though, he had no idea what to look for. He had only been on one hunt; the summer with the Djinn didn't really count. He wandered down the long, empty hallways and found himself longing for that big, warm, comfortable bed. The air conditioning must have been turned up way higher in the hall than in their suite. Cold didn't really bother Clark, but he could swear he could see his breath.

He wondered if that much cold could affect electricity, too. A lamp in the hall was flickering. The whole hotel looked so new to Clark, he was surprised to see the wiring was so bad. His dad had let him help set up some overhead lighting in the house once, when he'd realized that Clark was invulnerable to electricity at seven. His dad had told him a lot about how electrical work could start to fail over time, but it had been several years now since he and his dad had set up the wiring in their own house, and that hadn't started to fail yet. Clark doubted the hotel was even that old.

A wave of guilt washed over him as he kept thinking about his dad.

The last thing his dad had told him was to do what Dean and Lex told him to do. And here he was.

The day before Clark left for the island, his dad had given him a lecture about procrastinating on chores—Clark had forgotten to milk some cows, and the cows had been miserable for hours before Clark's mom discovered his mistake. Clark's dad was going to keep him home from the island trip, but his mom had talked his dad down to a week's grounding that would start the minute he got home. Clark was pretty sure his mom would have failed to persuade his dad if they had checked Clark's closet or under his bed to make sure he he'd cleaned his room properly instead of shoving everything out of sight.

At the time, Clark had been livid about the grounding and incredibly frustrated about the fact that he had so many chores in the first place. His friends who didn't live on farms didn't have half as many as Clark did, and even his friends who did live on farms had fewer than Clark had, since they didn't have powers.

But now, he was away at an amazing island resort while his parents stayed home and did his chores for him. And he was disobeying the only rule his dad had given him for the trip. His stomach hurt with the shame.

The lights flickered a bit more violently. Clark turned to head back to the room, and he nearly ran headlong into his father.

His father. Here.

Clark caught his breath. "Dad? What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, son."

Clark's cheeks burned. "I—I'm sorry! But . . . did you fly over? Or—"

"I checked under your bed. And in your closet."

"Oh!" Clark's eyes stung. He never should have lied. Now he was going to have to go home. "I can explain. Can we talk about this?"

"Oh, we're going to talk, alright." His father took a step toward him and grabbed his ear.

It wasn't the first time his dad had done that. It was rare, but it happened when his dad really needed to get his attention. But this was the first time it had ever hurt, and it hurt bad. Clark didn't even understand how it was possible that his dad could have gotten so strong. "Ow! Dad, please!"

The grip only tightened, and his father dragged him into an empty staff room and shut the door behind them.

There wasn't much light in the room—just enough to make out the mini fridge, the table and folding chairs, and corded phone—but Clark could see his dad's angry face with crystal clarity. "Dad, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" He twisted Clark's ear a little harder.

"Ah! I'm sorry!"

His father finally let go of his ear. "Neglecting your chores was bad enough. And making those poor animals suffer. I should refuse to take care of you for a day or two. Lock you in your room and refuse to feed you. See how you feel."

"I—I—" Clark's eyes filled with warm tears. He didn't even know what to say. His dad was completely right, but he had never spoken so harshly to Clark in his life.

"Add to that lying to your mother. I thought we could trust you, son. That's why I let you go on this trip."

"You can trust me! It was a mistake, I'm sorry!" His voice cracked on the last word.

"No, son, you didn't accidentally lie to your mother. And you certainly didn't accidentally disobey Dean tonight."

"Wait, that's different—"

"You've proven I can't trust you. You're a disappointment."

The words were like acid. Clark's breath caught, tears pouring down his cheeks all at once, and he buried his face in his palms.

His father merely stared at him while he suffered, making no move to comfort or reassure him like he usually did if Clark started crying during a scolding.

"W-where's Mom?" Clark choked out through his hands. "I want Mom."

His dad grabbed his sore ear again and turned him around toward the wall. "Go face that corner. Don't move. I'll be back."

Clark sniffled and wiped his eyes as he stepped into the corner. "Where are you going?" He desperately hoped his dad wasn't going to pack Clark's things to take him back home, though he couldn't really imagine any other outcome.

"There's no talking in the corner. Wait for me, and don't move."

The wall blurred as Clark's eyes filled with tears again, and he listened as the door opened and closed.