Chapter Two: Losing Grip

Faith didn't even see the terminal as she passed through the busy Metropolis International Airport Causeway. Despite the fact that she moved among the throng of people without ever bumping anybody, her eyes were glazed in a sort of tunnel vision with one simple goal in mind. Reach the exit as quickly as possible while drawing minimum attention to herself.

Ever since she had received and subsequently read Lex's letter, she had been operating in that same state of mind. One efficient step at a time; get her travel gear ready to go, find and board an international flight that would get her close to Metropolis, get out of terminal, find Lex, find out if what he said was the truth, and if it was…

Kill Lionel Luthor.

She still couldn't believe she had left the letter in Giles' office, but she had been so numb at the time, her mind had barely been functioning at all. It had fallen between her hands and she hadn't thought about picking a piece of paper up. She remembered seeking Buffy's help, stopping in her office, but she knew – instinctively - that Buffy would be opposed to her killing the man responsible for her mother's death, and left before giving herself away.

Buffy would be on her trail though - all because she left that letter behind. It was possible the blonde was already in Metropolis. She would have been able to book passage aboard the fastest flight available, not stow away in the cargo hold of some slower than shit freight hauler. The only thing that might slow her was costumes - a ritual Faith was more than willing to forgo since she had no passport, had entered the country illegally; and if she remembered correctly, was still a wanted felon - but Faith doubted it. One of the things the council had always been exceedingly good at was paperwork.

Faith knew that Buffy was going to try and stop her. She hoped, she prayed that it didn't come down to a fight between them. She didn't know why Buffy cared about what happened to her. With the exception of her mother, nobody else ever had. Definitely not her father, and certainly not this half-brother she had suddenly gained. Probably not the other one either.

A stone blind fool, who also happened to be deaf and dumb as well, would be able to see what he wanted with her.

Revenge.

She didn't really care. If Lionel Luthor died by her hands it would be for her reasons. Not anyone else's.

She squinted slightly, her eyes quickly readjusting after more then a day in near absolute darkness. With all the energy and frustration she has pent up Faith wished it was night. Something to kill right about now would really help her take the edge off. Slinging her pack over her head and across her back; Faith stepped into the harsh glare of the sun as she crossed the threshold of the automatic doors and melted into the crowd, seeming to vanish from sight.

Three days earlier

"What makes you think I want Peter found?" Harry asked Mary Jane with harsh skepticism. He couldn't believe that she had come here with this, expecting him to jump onboard with her hair brain idea. Especially considering how he felt about…

He cut off that line of thought and swirled his scotch, just managing to keep the amber liquid from sloshing over the rim. She was still beautiful - whether she was dressed to the nines, or dressed down as she was today - that was something that was never going to change about her, and he could still become loss with the simple act of gazing at her. He no longer loved Mary Jane, that emotion had died a long time ago. Still he didn't want to see her hurt either. Learning that somebody you love was in fact a cold blooded killer had a way of setting your world spinning.

He should know. He was still trying to stop the free fall he found himself in after the discovery of Norman Osborne's hidden labyrinth and the secrets it contained. He didn't know when his father had the work done to the manor house; it could have been anytime considering the minuscule amount he spent there, but it was extensive and had to have been a massive undertaking. That he never saw, never suspected anything was going on eat at him even now. Like a dog gnawing on a bone. Only the dog was guilt and the bone was his conscious.

He should have known.

When Mary Jane had come up the walk, her desert brown flats making a dull thwack with each step she had taken on the hard stone walk, she had marveled at the palatial mansion, its perfectly manicured lawns; shrubbery, trees, gardens, with marble fountains that spouted rivers of sparkling water; all of it put the rising starlet in mind of the estates of European Nobility. At least from what she has seen in photos and movie reels, since she has never visited one in person.

This was also her first time visiting the Osborne family home, not even when dating Harry was she ever invited here. In those days - less then a year ago - Harry had hated this place. In recent days he seemed never leave it. It had become his sanctuary… and his tomb.

"How about, because he's your best friend?" She managed to moderate her tone, enough so that her anger didn't come through anyway.

"Was my friend," Harry began as he turned away from Mary Jane and took the three steps necessary to reach the liquor cabinet. So use to the ornate and extravagant that he didn't see the richness that surrounded him. With a too steady hand he picked up a decanter of scotch and began to fill his glass. "That whole protecting the man who killed my father," he took a drink, a small sip as he turned back to face her. He switched which hand was holding his glass, and then used his occupied hand to point at her with an extended forefinger. "It tends to put a real strain on whatever friendship was there." Having made his point he raised his glass to his lips and took another shallow sip. The liquor had become an almost constant companion to him in recent days. It was the only thing that managed to keep his world from crumbling around him, gave him the strength to face the day ahead.

It was all she could do to keep from gaping at him in wide eye wonder. He sounded so cold, so distant to her. Nothing at all like the Harry she had dated. "Peter's the best friend you could have ever hoped to find. Anybody else would have seen you as a meal ticket. Peter never asked you for one thing, not a single nickel no matter how down he was. He'd give you the shirt off his back if you asked. He would risk everything to protect you and never expect anything from you in return. And do you know why?"

Harry could do nothing but shake his head. He had never seen this side of Mary Jane before. It was one thing to know somebody was strong willed, fiery, and passionate… quite another to have that unrelenting fury directed at you.

"Because you never saw Peter the science geek, or Peter the four eyed nerd, or anything else. You just might have been the first person to treat him as a human being." The utterance was hard for Mary Jane to make, but even she had to admit that until their senior year, towards the end of it, she had never really seen Peter either. True, she was usually the one that made everyone stop tormenting him, but she had done that for pretty much everyone. "Sometimes Peter can be loyal to a fault," she said in a whisper meant for herself. She didn't know how he could like her, much less love her after the way she had treated him, or hadn't treated him.

Harry snorted at the comment. "And both of us have seen where those loyalties lie, now haven't we?" He took another, larger pull from his shot glass.

"And maybe neither of us knows anything that happened the night your father died… it was the same night the Green Goblin kidnapped me and forced Spider-Man to choose between me and a gondola full of children. Then the two of them disappeared. Maybe the Goblin was using your father the same way he did me? A hostage, only this time Spider-Man wasn't able to save him."

Harry emptied his shot glass in a single swallow, too quickly as some of the liquor dribbled out of the corner of his mouth. He used the back of a shaky right hand to wipe his chin dry. If anybody ever uncovered the secrets he was holding; Norman Osborne being the Green Goblin, his involvement with Dr. Otto Octavian. The law suits alone would bankrupt him.

Mary Jane herself had multiple grounds with which to seek recompensing. Both Norman and Octavian had used her to draw Spider-Man to them. Both times he had been responsible, whether it was direct, as it had been with Dr. Octopus, or indirect, like simply complaining to his father when he had been hurt by two people he thought of as friends.

Then there was always the possibility of criminal charges, government sanctions. After all he was the one who gave Octavian what he needed to run his experiments, all in return for Spider-Man. He had risked the world, in more ways then one, and walked away unscathed.

So far.

Peter knew, but Peter would never betray somebody he considered a friend. Even if that friend wanted him dead. What Mary Jane had said about him was the simple truth. Peter was loyal to a fault.

Still there was always the chance Peter would tell someone, had already told.

Harry quickly refilled the glass. This time the procedure didn't go nearly as smoothly as it did the first time. The liquid spilled over the side as both hands continued to shake, most of the liquor landed on the imported Ming Dynasty rug, but enough ended up in the glass to satisfy Harry.

"Is that your answer to everything? Another drink will fix the world." Her voice was heavy with contempt.

The sneer was drunken, and more then a little evil. There was more then a hint of a slur to his words as he said, "why don't you come back to me after you've had somebody you love ripped away from you."

"You self center little…" Anger stilled her words when caution wouldn't have. She simple couldn't think of anything vile enough to describe him at the moment. "I don't know what I ever saw in you. And just in case you haven't noticed it, Peter's gone. He might not be dead…" Dear lord please don't let him be dead. "…but for all that I can find him he might as well be. And I'm the one that drove him…"

"Aaarrghhh!" Harry roared as whirled, a slight wobble to his movements as he hurled the glass against the light, sand wood paneled wall. It shattered into a thousand tiny shards that sprayed a small portion of the room. Most of the liquor had already left the glass on its flight, but enough remained to put a dark stain on the wall. "He killed my father!"

Mary Jane shook her head decisively. "Peter isn't…" She stooped as she realized what Harry had said. Not Spider-Man, just he… when they had been talking about Peter.

Harry's chest heaved as if he had just finished running a marathon. He looked from the wall to Mary Jane and back again as if in a trance. It was out now, almost out. He couldn't believe he had let it slip like that.

"Peter would never… Harry you can't believe that Peter killed your father. Why would he? He respected you father."

Harry looked at her, truly looked at her for the first time. "You still don't understand MJ? How could you when you don't even know?" The brief spurt of rage seemed to have burnt off whatever effect the alcohol had on him. With purpose he moved pass Mary Jane with a steady step.

Curious she followed him as he led her deeper into the huge manor; out the door and down the long, marble tiled hallway she traversed when the stiff butler had pointed her in the direction of the study - the walls were covered with paintings; portraits and landscapes for the most part, the little nooks held small pieces of art and tiny figurines - to the large, columned foyer she had seen upon first entering, up a flight of stairs wide enough to accommodate half a dozen people abreast, to the second floor landing, down another hall, past several doors, until they reached an exceedingly long stretch of wall where Harry came to a stop.

"I don't know when he did any of this," Harry said cryptically as he pressed the palm of his hand against a piece of wood paneling. There was a soft click and a section of the wall opened, just a crack, nothing that anybody would see if they weren't looking for it. It was seamless. He hooked his fingers under the small lip and pulled it open.

The soft light filling the chamber gave the room an eerie, surreal appearance. Mary Jane gasped at the sight before her. It was something she had hoped to never see again. They haunted her nightmares to this day. Involuntarily she took a step back. "Oh, god MJ. I'm sorry. I didn't think…"

She felt backed into a corner, as if his had been some elaborate setup. She wasn't going to let that intimidate her. "What are you doing with these Harry?"

"They were his," he said simply, letting the implications sink in.

It didn't take long and she could feel the anger rising. "You knew," was as soft as the hiss of a sword being drawn. "How long have you known?"

"Only a few days, I swear MJ. I just stumbled upon it. It was like they wanted me to find them," he confided to her.

"They're evil."

"I remember MJ… He killed a dozen people right in front of me, his own son. Almost killed me, terrorized everyone at the Amnesty Parade... You almost died there as well, and again later. All so he could get at Peter." His eyes settled on her when she didn't react to the name he used.

Her voice was numb when she spoke, like she was dead inside. "You should destroy it all. It's evil. It was used for evil."

"Don't you think I know that?"

Mary Jane turned to him, an incredulous look on her face. "You're going to keep it?" It wasn't so much a question as it was an outright accusation.

"I can do some real good with it MJ. Make up for some of the misery it's caused."

"How're you gonna make up for anything Harry… you can't face the truth when it's staring you right in the eyes?" She stepped out of the room. "Another free piece of advice Harry. A costume requires you to make sacrifices and hard choices… two things you have never been very good at."

Harry watched Mary Jane walk away. She didn't understand what he was talking about. Not surprising when he stopped to consider that he didn't understand what he had been insinuating. Could he actually have been suggesting what he thought he was? What Mary thought he had been?

He moved deeper into the chamber, walking amongst the suits of Goblin armor. He came to the back wall and opened a hidden drawer. After a moment he reached into the drawer and withdrew a thick journal, his father's journal from after his transformation into the Green Goblin. It was obvious from his writings that he had been insane; paranoid, with delusions of grandeur, not to mention psychotic as well as sociopathic.

Reaching back into the drawer Harry took out a large vial full of an amber green liquid. This was what had given Norman Osborne his super human abilities; reflexes, strength, senses, endurance. It was also what had driven him insane.

Mary Jane had been right about a great many things she said. No more so then he wasn't very good at making the big decisions, the hard choices. Sacrificing of himself. He stared long and hard at the liquid contained within the glass.

Could he do it?

Could he risk it all?

Liz hated hospitals, the smell of them; that too clean antiseptic bleach that everybody associated with hospitals - the feel of them; the oppressive weight of sickness that bore down on you relentlessly. She supposed hospitals weren't all bad; people did get better and leave them, most babies had been born in one, both of which were good things. Unfortunately she had never experienced either in a hospital. It seemed to her that the only time she was ever in one was either when somebody died or they were dying; first Grandma Parker, then Alex. The only people she has ever been closer to were Maria and Max.

With her arms folded just under her breast, and a hostile expression detracting only slightly from her overall attractiveness, Liz paced the corridor in a twelve stride circuit. She wouldn't have been here now if not for the fact that Lana had been in the Talon, finalizing some paperwork, when she received Martha Kent's phone call about Lex being rushed to Smallville General; something about collapsing at his home. Lana hadn't looked very steady hearing the news, and Liz had instinctively volunteered to drive her to the hospital. Once there Liz felt obligated to stay with Lana until she was sure the young woman was going to be all right.

The corridor Liz waited in while Lana checked on Lex was like all hospital corridors; sterile and bland. Some of them would vary in color scheme, or some other mundane thing, but nobody ever really noticed even when they saw. She didn't bother looking in on Lex; she already knew what she would see… what she had already seen.

Somewhere in the maze of halls and corridors that made up the hospital, Mrs. Kent was going over paperwork. For some reason Lex had listed Martha as person to contact in case of emergency. Liz could understand why from the few brief encounters she has had with the kindly older woman. She was the sort of woman most children, when they got older anyway, wished was their mother while they were young.

The door opened quietly allowing Lana to slip out. The girl was a pale imitation of the woman Liz had first met three days ago. Her eyes were dark, sunken hallows. All the laughter and life seemed to have dried up inside her. The angry young man she had met the other day; Clark she believed his name was, Lana hadn't offered and Liz didn't pry, seemed to be the source of Lana's trouble. Or it could have been his blonde, enigmatic California cousin, Kara that Lana had a problem with. There was someone that Liz could believe was dropped off in a space ship.

Lana let the door close behind her, and then leaned on the piece of solid pressed wood. With everything that has happened to her she felt twice her age. "Guess my attending the Paris School of the Arts just got put on an indefinite hold… Sometimes I think this town is never going to let me go." She said to Liz, but spoke more for herself.

"I used to feel that way about Roswell," Liz confessed. "That I was never going to get away. That I'd spend the rest of my life working in the Crash Down and never see the world. Never fall in love; never have a life of my own."

Lana looked at Liz instead of looking through her. "What happened?"

"I met Max, we fell in love," Liz whispered. She bit the corner of her lip; her face beamed fiercely and an intense sparkle gleamed in her dark eyes. Instantly Lana saw the young teenager that Liz must have been when this occurred. "Eventually we left." Though, at times it hardly seemed as if Roswell had left them behind.

"And you ended up in Smallville." As far as Lana was concerned it didn't really make a lot of sense.

Liz smiled; a faint yet friendly grin as she said, "life doesn't usually take you down the road you think it's going to, far from it." She studied Lana for a moment. Sometimes her powers were no help what-so-ever. Most of the time they simply made things worse then they already were. It always seemed to be more about interpretation then any literal translation. "Go to Paris Lana."

Shock filled Lana's face as she asked, "What… how could you think I'd just abandon one of my best friends?"

"Lana," Liz began in a comforting, almost hypnotic tone. "Whether Lex's condition improves or worsens has absolutely nothing to do with your presence outside this door; being in Smallville or Paris."

"She's right Lana," Martha said as she stepped up to the two young women. Her approach had been as soft as her words were. "Lex would never want you to put your future on hold… You know that as well as I, he'd be the first one to tell you that if he was able."

"I know, it's just hard."

Martha nodded, a sad sympathetic smile creasing her worry strained face. "If leaving home was easy…" She left the thought there, not really sure what to say after that.

"Should we even be down here?" Kyle asked as he followed Isabel down the narrow passage and into the cave. "I mean, this is sort of private property."

"Private property that happens to be filled with alien script," Isabel answered directing the stream of light from her flashlight at the rocky ground as she descended into a large semi circular cavern. The floor was uneven, rising and lowering with little rhyme or reason. Several outcroppings jutted from the walls creating hollows, with dark shadows that gave the area an oppressive air. At least Isabel attributed the ominous feeling to the semi-darkness she found herself in. If the truth were to be told, she had been feeling antsy long before they ever found the entrance, as if something didn't want her here. This however was far too important to just abandon on what was probably nothing more then the burrito she had for lunch haunting her.

She didn't remember falling asleep, but she had woken with a start and an unshakable knowledge of the location of the caves they had been seeking out. Ever since news footage of not just one, but half a dozen different pieces of alien script was aired on national television. Since Kyle was the only person there at the time he was automatically volunteered to escort her, not that he would have let her go without him.

The script wasn't identical to the book Alex had deciphered, but all three of them; Max, Michael, and Isabel recognized the writings even if they couldn't read them. Everyone in the group – their family - decided they needed to be investigated; find out if they were a threat, warning, or simply coincidental. "It's not like this is the first time alien writings have been discovered, mixed in with Native Americ…" She stopped, gazing at the wall in wonder as the light from her flashlight splashed over it.

"God," she breathed softly trying to take it all in at a single glance.

Kyle stepped up beside her to get a better view without having to strain to look over her shoulder. "It's incredible," he agreed in a reverent tone. He reached out a hand and brushed his fingertips over what appeared to be Stone Age cave drawings and intermingled with alien script. None of it made any sense to him, but that wasn't all that surprising. He had never claimed to be the brains of the group. "Any idea what it says?"

"Haven't got a clue." She definitely felt like she didn't belong here, except it wasn't exactly that. It was more like something didn't want her here. It was a malevolent presence, one that would relish the opportunity to do her harm. Either that or she was letting her imagination get the better of her. "I think maybe we should get out of here?"

"But, we only just got here." Kyle looked at her as he added, "besides… I thought this is what you guys have been going on about."

"You can't feel it can you?" She asked as her eyes scanned the dark recesses of the cave, searching for the eyes she felt. "Somebody watching us."

"Now you sound like Maria after a, "Friday the Thirteenth," marathon," Kyle joked teasingly. "But hey, if you wanna go… we'll go. It's your nickel after all."

"Thank you," She said sounding uncommonly grateful.

He put his arm around her back and gently turned her towards the passage out. "This place has you spooked something fierce." A note of deep concern etched his voice. In all the years that he's known Isabel Evens he has never known her to let her emotions get the better of her. There had been the Christmas Nazi experience, and just prior to her wedding she gone just a little off the deep end.

Michael was the hot head who flew off the handle at the slightest provocation, and Maria only slightly less so, but normally in a completely different direction, for completely different reasons that still somehow involved Michael. Max was their defacto leader, but followed his heart far more often then his head. Liz was the brain and soul of the group; she was the one that always seemed to know what to do, even if it was Max that brought it all together. Isabel though, she always maintained her composure, no matter what was going on in the world around her; she always had the strength, the fortitude to stay the course, and keep the rest of them there right alongside her.

As they turned Isabel screamed and gave a start as she jumped back, as the light from her flashlight illuminated a body lying by one of the long stone pillars that supported the weight of the cave roof. Kyle kept her on her feet even as he stepped in front of her shielding her body with his own. Max would kill him if he let anything happen to his sister. His right hand came up, fingers spread slightly, and suddenly the cave was basking in a gentle light that suffused every inch of the cavern. It didn't come from anywhere, yet it lit everything.

"Do you know him?" He asked without thinking. Isabel still retained enough of her composure to shoot an incredulous glare at the back of his head. Kyle must have felt the look because he said, "right… Sorry, forgot we don't know anybody in this town. Well except for that cute waitress at the Talon, what's her name?"

"I hope you plan on doing better then that if you ask her out," Isabel said stepping around Kyle. She hated being shielded, plus she had far more experience with her powers then he did with his. "Woman tend to find it flattering when you actually remember their names, its just one more of those strange customs we have… part of that whole feeling appreciated thing." They had tried dating a year and half ago, briefly. It was an unquantifiable disaster and the pair went back to simply being best friends.

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind, if you know; psycho killer isn't still down here." Kyle shot nervous glances around the cavern, but there was no place that anybody could hide down here anymore. There were no more dark shadows for a person to lay in ambush, waiting for that perfect moment to strike.

Isabel knelt down next to the man. He was older with dark blonde bordering on reddish gold hair that was beginning to show signs of his age. She estimated that to be about the same as Sheriff Valenti; late forties to early fifties. He had those same rugged - what most older women would consider - good looks as the Sheriff as well.

Her hand hovered just above his chest. She didn't need to touch him in order to determine his condition, although if there were normal humans around she would have, to keep up appearances if nothing else. Of course if there had been a normal human down here they probably would have run off screaming because of Kyle's, "let there be light," display.

"His breathing's shallow and his pulse is weak, but he's still alive." Her voice was like a white hot knife blade just removed from the flames. "We need to get him to a hospital."

"And how are we going to that?" Kyle questioned then pointed out, "in case you forgotten we walked here, a good two miles."

She glared at him again hating the fact he was right. Even using their powers to carry him, there was no way they could get him to the house they were renting. "We'll get him out of the cave, a couple hundred yards away from it or so… then we'll call for help."

"Good plan… hello, operator," he mimed talking into a cell phone, "I'm in the middle of the woods with an unconscious guy I found. Would I mind giving you directions, not at all. I see trees, trees, and wow what a surprise, more trees… Oh, you know exactly were that is. Well gosh I guess it's a good thing I moved to the middle Hicksville."

"Smallville," Isabel corrected. "Now grab his feet and lets get going."

"How come I get the feet?" He complained yet moved next to the stranger's feet.

Neither one of them touched him, yet suddenly he rose off the ground. He lay suspended on the air as if a stretcher were underneath him. Slowly they began climbing the rough passage out. Isabel glanced back once - something still nagging at her - and said, "Kyle, don't forget to turn off the lights."

"Sorry about that."

The cave descended back into darkness, only the minuscule light streaming in through the passageway give it scant illumination. A light that brightens dimly as a crack in the wall of reality - between what is physical and what is not - cast its eerie glow. From within - if you were to listen close enough - a voice, a dark whisper can be heard saying a single word. A word filled with hate and desire.

"Antarian."