Now this chapter is short; its a default. More of a prologue to the rest of the story. Deals with Jonathan and Martha's worry for Clark...and trying to wake him up during the Season 3's "Slumber". Nightmares and memories will happen soon. Tomorrow, actually. :) a little of BestFriend!Pete will be in here, and a look into Clark's dreams other than the one we saw.

~ Annah

When Jonathan and Martha Kent realized that it was 11PM and Clark had yet to come down from studying for his History exam. He knew that there was a time limit for being out in the loft, especially on a school night.

It had only been a day or two since Jonathan had dug a bullet out of his invincible son, and the fact that it was a Kryptonite bullet had shook the family. Especially Martha and Jonathan. Because in a split second, their son had been very near death.

And the way he had distanced himself from the event worried the parents. If Clark was beating himself up about Van and that he could have stopped the bullet, then he'd just distance himself from his friends and family even more.

"Martha, I'll go tell Clark its time to come in." Jonathan said, as Martha put on her pink bathrobe.

"Okay, tell him goodnight for me." Martha smiled. "I'll see you upstairs."

Nodding, Jonathan head out to the barn. Stopping at the stairs to the loft, he called out, "Clark?"

Silence. Guessing that maybe Clark fell asleep, Jonathan walked up the stairs to see Clark sprawled out on the couch, fast asleep.

"Clark, wake up, son." Jonathan said, shaking his son's shoulder. No response. "Clark!"

Clark may have been a heavy sleeper, but he would've woken by now. He looked fine; as if everything was perfectly normal. But Jonathan suddenly had a sickening feeling in his gut.

"Clark! Wake up! Clark!" Jonathan continued to shake his son firmly, gently slapping his face. Nothing. Clark didn't move. Jonathan tried this for 10 minutes before giving up.

"Clark…why won't you wake up?" Jonathan said worriedly. Running down the stairs, out the barn, and into the house, he saw Martha coming down the stairs.

"I heard you yelling. What's wrong?" Martha asked. Her face was tired, but concerned.

Jonathan almost wanted to lie to her; she'd just watched as her son get shot and almost died, not to mention digging a bullet out of his flesh. But he couldn't lie to her. Even if he was worried over nothing. "Martha…Clark won't wake up."