Lex dropped Clark off at the farm house, wished him good luck, and left. Clark found himself staring out at the car as it drove away, wishing he could be heading away from here, too.

His parents weren't going to forgive him. He had killed his brother and run away from home, leaving them to pick up the pieces. He didn't deserve their forgiveness, their love, a place in their family. And now that they had their real daughter, they wouldn't need him, either. They could start over, fresh, with an easy child they wouldn't have to worry about.

Still, they deserved some answers. And Sam said they would want to hear from Clark. Sam head covered the explanations about the supernatural; Clark would have to handle the rest.

Slowly, he made himself walk up to their front door.

His parents had once given him a house key. He had no idea where it was now; he hadn't taken it with him when he went to Metropolis. Gone, too, was the motorcycle he had stolen from his dad. He would have to tell them that he would work to pay them back. Maybe they would let him work on the farm. He had never done nearly as many chores as his powers could have allowed—why, why had he never contributed more?—but he could change that to make up for his mistakes.

Standing on the doorstep with his fist in mid air, waiting to knock, he hung his head. He could never make up for what he had done.

He knocked anyway.

The wood hurt his knuckles. He wasn't used to that. He started to shake out his hand, but stopped himself when the door swung open.

And there was his mom. She was smaller than he remembered her—she had been pretty heavily pregnant when he last saw her—but aside from that, she just looked worn out, like she hadn't been eating or sleeping. Like she had aged 15 years in the few weeks he had been away.

Her jaw dropped, her eyes going wide when she saw him, and tears poured down her hollowed cheeks. "Clark!" she cried, and she threw her arms around him.

He hugged back. He couldn't help it. Her embrace was so warm and soft and tight, even as she shook with sobs.

"Mom, I'm s-so sorry, the baby…"

"We never blamed you." She pulled back and reached up to cradle his face in her hands.

He could feel his eyes starting to sting. He never would have expected this.

"Clark?"

Clark's mom took her hands away, and Clark turned to see his father.

The look on his dad's face was nothing like what he'd seen from his mom. A whirlwind of emotions clouded his expression, anger and pain dominating. He grabbed Clark by the shoulder as Clark cringed.

"Where have you been? We've been looking for you for over a month."

"I'm sorry, I'm—"

"We've been seeing the news, everything you've been doing in Metropolis." His dad's grip tightened until it hurt. "You put on a red kryptonite ring on purpose? What were we supposed to think? Your mother's barely slept, worrying about you every day. How could you do that to her?"

The room blurred, and Clark felt a tear tracing its way down his face. His arm ached—he had never suffered pain at his father's hands before.

"Well?"

"I'm sorry… I'm so, so sorry…"

His fathers face broke, and he pulled Clark into his arms.

Clark rested, but he didn't feel he could truly relax. Even in his mom's arms, he had been more trying to comfort her than to receive her comfort.

His dad let go and looked him in the eyes, his own eyes sparkling. "Never do that again," he said, his voice cracking.

"I'm so sorry, Dad. I know… I know I'm in trouble, but if you can forgive me—"

"Son, you're forgiven."

The air rushed out of his lungs.

His dad clapped him on the shoulder. "We can talk about you being grounded later. Right now…I want you to meet your little sister."

Clark's heart seized. He had known that this moment would come, but he was unprepared for how it made him feel. His knee-jerk response was to say, She's not my sister. She was the Kents' real child. Clark wasn't.

His dad put a hand on his shoulder, much more gently this time, and let him upstairs to a crib in Clarks parents room.

She was asleep, peaceful, her round cheeks so soft, dark eyelashes so perfect. Her eyes opened as Clark looked down at her, and she whimpered.

Her dad leaned down to pick her up, and rested her little head against his shoulder. "Clark," he said, "meet Ellie."

Clark's throat had choked up. He couldn't speak.

"We, um...named her after your Kryptonian name."

Clark frowned. Then it hit him.

El.

It was all too much. Way too much.

"Would you like to hold her?"

Hold her. He couldn't stand to look at her. He had killed her twin. She had taken his place in the family.

"I'm sorry," Clark said, and he left their room for his own before he could break down.

Dean set up shop in the mansion, figuring he'd stick around for the next couple of days. It was a good central location to wrap things up, and it also let him keep an eye on Lex, who was still recovering from the island. Not that Dean would badger him to do things like eat or sleep or take care of himself, but Lex definitely seemed to be doing better at those things with someone in the house. Dean always did; it was almost embarrassing not to.

He did have to make one trip out to Metropolis. He had to guess that the demons had been active for a lot longer than he'd realized, given the illegal activity out there over the past month. Then again, a lot of the crimes had been out of character for demons: more thefts than murders. Dean spent a day impersonating an FBI agent, visiting various locations to collect security footage.

He waited for Lex to be asleep—no need to get him involved in this while he was still in recovery—and watched over the clips in his own room.

He could see why the local police had been having a hard time with each case. The footage didn't show any of the usual signs of supernatural activity, other than the fact that the culprit displayed incredible speed and strength. Dean slowed down the first video, and did a double take when he saw it. The images were blurry, but he could've sworn the monster looked like Clark.

Same with the second one. And the third one. The fourth one was even clearer. Always just blurry enough that he couldn't have been identified by anyone who didn't know him personally; always clear as day to Dean.

Dean set aside the last of the footage. Four bank robberies, two minor thefts, three other cases of breaking and entering. Super speed, super strength, and in one case, it looked like lasers or fire were coming out of his eyes.

Dean began to pace in the guest bedroom at the mansion. He hadn't heard Lex stir, so he figured he was alone.

Clark.

Was it possible he had been possessed? That he still was? No, that didn't make much sense. He definitely wasn't possessed now—he hadn't responded to the holy water, and he had seemed like himself—and he didn't report any signs of having been possessed before. People sometimes lied, but Clark didn't lie well, and it would've been obvious if he was hiding something.

Of course, it had seemed like he was hiding something. There was a reason demons had been coming after him.

...Was Clark a monster?

Sam and Clark had disappeared together for a while, before the hunt. Then Sam had disappeared altogether. Sam and Clark had always been close friends, closer than Clark and Dean… but if there was something dangerous to be known about Clark, wouldn't Sam have told Dean? They hunted monsters. It was what they did.

Pulse pounding in his ears, Dean picked up the phone and called Sam.

It rang a few times, and Dean worried that Sam had blocked him again. But then Sam picked up. "Hello?"

Dean meant to ask about Clark, but old habits took over. "Where have you been?"

Sam scoffed. "Dean, is that all you called to ask?"

"No. What is up with you lately?"

"What's up with me? You—"

"You abandoned our family, but I didn't expect you to do it to Clark when he most needed you."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Then enlighten me. You know Clark's secret?"

Sam paused for a half second too long. "What secret? I don't know what you mean."

Sam used to be good at lying. He must have been out of practice. But Dean could use that to his advantage. "You knew," Dean said.

"Know what?"

"Cut the BS. I got security footage from a half dozen places in Metropolis."

Sam took a deep breath. "I can explain."

"Clark is a monster."

"No. He's not."

"Well, he ain't human."

"That doesn't make him a monster."

"Sammy, last I checked, we kill things like this. End of story."

"You want to kill Clark? Seriously?"

"If you were seeing the same footage I'm seeing, you'd be saying the same thing."

A short silence on the other end. "You don't have the full story."

"No, I don't. 'Cause you and Clark have been holding out on me. "

"Just… Listen. There's this type of meteor rock that makes Clark act like he's drugged, he calls it red kryptonite."

"Kryptonite?"

"It's from his planet. Krypton."

"Now I've heard everything."

"I'm serious, Dean. Do you think I'm lying?"

"Aliens, Sam? What the hell are you smoking?"

"He told me when we were kids."

Dean felt his adrenaline spike once again. The edges of his vision blurred. "You've been lying to me for years."

"His parents are pretty serious about him keeping his secret. They grounded him when they found out he told me—four years after the fact."

Dean didn't even know what to say. He wasn't even sure whether to believe all of this.

"But Clark's not dangerous. You have to trust me."

"Trust you? How am I supposed to do that?"

"Dean, I know you're pissed. I would be too. But you're not mad about Clark. You're mad about me leaving."

Dean clenched his teeth. "Screw you," he hissed, and he hung up.

Dean threw his phone onto the bed, pacing angrily.

Sam had been lying for years. Years! Dean knew not to expect family loyalty from his brother, but this was a step too far. He'd withheld dangerous information. If Dean had ever found out about a werewolf or a windigo and refused to tell his dad... Dean shuddered to think what his dad would have done to him.

Sam was right. Dean's anger had very little to do with Clark. He was sure Lex had known Clark's secret for as long as Sam had, or longer, and he wasn't upset with Lex. Maybe because he saw Lex as Clark's brother; Sam was supposed to be Dean's.

But Dean could worry about Sam later. Right now, he had to figure out what to do about the monster who could apparently shoot fire from his eyes.

It has been one thing when Clark was a kid. He'd been young and innocent, harmless. A nice kid. He was only sixteen now, but he looked like a grown man. And Dean had seen what he was capable of, on that security footage. Sure, he'd been helpful a few times in the past, but even werewolves had human lives, times when they were harmless. That didn't mean they weren't monsters. It was still his job to hunt them.

Sure, he'd made exceptions. Sort of. There had been Tina Greer, two years before. She had been a Shapeshifter, but she wasn't exactly dangerous. Her only kill had been accidental, and her only other crime had been theft. Aside from that, she had been psychologically disturbed; an institution was a better place for her than the morgue.

Dean couldn't really say the same about Clark. His abilities were a lot more powerful, and he kept a lot more secrets, and he had hurt people in some of those videos. Even if he was harmless some of the time, there were other times when he might have been the most dangerous man alive. If Dean didn't go after him, some other hunter might.

Dean had never had to hunt a friend before.