Hey y'all. So, yeah. Sorry? Hope you guys don't hate me as much as I hate myself for not updating. But yeah, here we are. SORRY!

It would never seize to amaze her how much business a bar could make on a Saturday night, even in Smallville. Earlier in the evening couples and even families came in, and once the sun went down, the drinking crowd came out.

Working behind the counter, Sam brushed the hair out of her eyes as she glanced up at the clock. 12:38. Great. Twenty-two minutes to go and the place was still packed. It didn't help that it was the 4th of July weekend, but honestly, it was Smallville, how many people could honestly be here? In addition to the regulars, who would be leaving before one, there was a large group of guys that had sat down a few hours ago at a table in the corner. By how much they ordered and how loud they were, it was obvious that they were drunk, and also in no mood to leave.

Instead, they wanted more. For the umpteenth time that night, one of the boys signed for her to come over, and with remorse, Sam trudged over there, a small smile plastered on her face.

"What more can I get for you boys?" Sam asked, hands on her hips.

"We'll take," the boy closest to her started loudly, "two more pitchers. And you – you can also write your number on this," his slipped a napkin into her pocket, "for me."

Her stomach churned at his advance. It wasn't the first time some one had hit on her, but not many people physically touched her, especially considering that she used to date one of the bartenders. With her heart thumping a little louder in her chest, she slowly stepped back and laughed. "I'll be right back with that." They didn't see that when she turned around, her eyes went wide and she let out a loud sigh.

Rowdy, obnoxious drunks made her sick. Sure, she was all for having a couple drinks at the end of the day to relax and forget about your problems for a while, Lord knows she's done that. But when things got out of hand, that's when she turned away. And those guys were very beyond the point of rudeness. In a full bar, they were easily the loudest and most boisterous.

When she returned with the pitchers and a smile, they were laughing at something one of them had said, tears even streaming down some of their faces. When the blonde one who slipped her the napkin her, he slapped the one next to him and nodded in her direction. As fast at they could, which wasn't at all, they all quieted. Setting the pitchers down on the table, napkin guy spoke up and said, "Thanks, babe," they all choked on their laughter at this. He continued, "And, uh, what about that number?"

Stepping a step back, she mumbled, "Let's just – work on the drinks for now."

Not expecting anything, she turned around and beelined for the counter. It was after she had taken a few steps when she felt the hand on her wrist. She froze. In her head, she was repeating the words Don't make a scene. Don't make a scene. Don't make a scene. Don't make a scene. This didn't have to be something big. It was just some guy, a little to eager to get some number. Deal with it slowly.

Turning her head to the side, she sternly told him, "Let go of me, please."

"All I want is a number, firecracker. We could have some fun."

"If you don't let go, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was cursing herself for being even somewhat polite to him.

"Come on, let loose a little," he told her while moving around to face her.

His hand had just started to travel up her arm when he was violently wrenched away from her. It happened so quick, that when she turned back around to find out where he had gone, she was met by what had to be the back of Clark Kent. The definition of his back underneath his black shirt was apparent and his height and mass of curls was unmistakeable. What wasn't recognizable was the low, threatening voice that was coming from him.

" – touch her again," he said slowly and menacingly, so out of place for the soft-spoken and shy Clark that she knew.

What she could tell from her fixed stare on Clark's back, the small incident had gone unnoticed by most of the bar. The only ones who seemed to have seen were the boys sitting at the table, who had fallen silent the moment the blonde had been shoved back into his seat.

Before either of them could see how blondie responded, Clark had turned around, doing the same to her in the process, and begun to lead them toward the door. His hand kept a firm, yet light, hold on her back as he quickly pushed her across the floor, obviously eager to leave the bar. Sam turned her head to him as she slowed down, "I have my – purse. In the back, and I leave at...one."

Clark paused. "Stay here, I'll grab it," and he left without saying another word.

Sam opened her mouth to say something, anything, to him, but didn't get to him in time. What would she say, anyways? What are you doing here? Why didn't I see you here? And how the hell do you know where my purse is? Knowing her, it'd be the last comment.

Had she really been thinking that long, or was he just that fast? Because he was right back by her side, hand on her back and pushing her toward the door. She unknowingly gripped the purse that Clark had handed her, not sure of what to make of anything that was happening. Was this actually real? It couldn't be, this wasn't some story where the hero saved the girl. She didn't even need to be "saved." It was just some drunk who got a little excited, big deal. It happened all the time, and she could hold herself. In fact, why did he even think that he had to intervene? She wasn't helpless. She'd practically been on her own since she left high school, she didn't need Clark the Giant to come to her rescue.

"Sam?"

It was the Clark that she knew who drew her from her thoughts. They were outside now, and she was seated at a bench outside of the diner a few buildings down the street. He was squatting in front of her, eyes questioning and patient, and voice soft spoken. God, she must look so childish right now. Her eyes must have been wide and confused, face pale, and breathing like a runner. Her hands gripped her purse tight, almost as if it was the only thing that she could hold on to.

"Sam," he said again, this time more forceful.

Her eyes focused on his slowly. "Huh?"

"Okay," he muttered while standing up, "I'm taking you home."

She kept staring at his face, in shock that he was actually here with her, again. It had been a couple of months since he had visited her. She meant to call or stop by the Kent's place to see if he was there, but the opportune moment never arrived. So, here they were, together at the least likely of times and places. She idly wondered if they'd ever plan getting together. A moment later she figured out the answer.

"Come on, Sam." A moment after she deftly heard his voice, she felt his hands around her back, lifting her into a standing position beside him. Keeping his hand there, he led the two of them to wherever he thought they needed to go.

She stopped him at the corner of the back parking lot where her car was. It hadn't been much of a shock from how slow they were moving, but still, he asked with uncertainty, "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," she blinked a couple of times. "Why are you...here? Now. Again."

Clark's eyes flickered off to somewhere in the distance before he spoke. "Let's go some where first, then I'll explain. I promise."

She hesitantly nodded back at him, unsure of whether or not she actually trusted him or not. That wasn't bad, right? He'd been gone for close to 8 years, only speaking with her a handful of times. She had some right to not completely believe everything that he was saying...right?

Things were going much too fast for her for the moment. Because here she was now, staring at Clark from the passenger seat of her Suburban as he drove the old clunker out onto the back roads of Smallville. Starlight shone down, illuminating everything about him; tan skin that sparkled, eyes that glittered, and hair that seemed impossibly darker. Did he get...bigger? How was the possible? He was already a giant their graduation day so long ago, but now he just seemed, menacing and unapproachable.

"Sam?"

He really liked saying that. And he also really liked saying that as if she had just come back from war. It was like he expected her to either blow up or break down.

"Huh?" Great. Very smooth, Sam. God, she couldn't even come up with a relatively comprehensive response.

Clark pursed his lips in thought, then pulled the car over onto the grass. Shutting off the engine, he turned to face her in the silence that now surrounded them. Looking at her eyes, he asked, "Are you okay?"

She nodded without thinking. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine."

"He didn't," Clark paused, "hurt – you?"

Blood slowly rushed to her cheeks as she looked at her hands. "No," she uttered quietly. "Not at all. Just a drunk guy getting a little too involved."

"He grabbed you."

The statement was so short, but he said it as if it was one of the most prominent and important thing for the moment. Her heart swelled and began to beat louder in the silence as the last of her trust was given to him.

"It's fine, I'm fine. It wasn't that big of a deal." She looked back up at him, ignoring the anger and something else she couldn't place on his face. "Why were you there anyways? Or really, why are you back? Why now? Why..." she trailed off.

It was his turn to look at the floor now, except when he did it he looked a lot better. He didn't look pathetic, just slightly ashamed.

"I finally found what I was looking for," he glanced back up, "I found my father."

That took her completely off guard. "What?" His – birth father? How was that even possible?

Clark let out a light sigh, a smile plastering its way onto his face. "I found him. And I know where I come from. And what happened and I guess why I'm here. Things just, makes sense now, you know?"

She copied his expression, grinning at his new found knowledge and happiness. "That's – great! I can't believe this. You know, everything now."

"Well, not everything, but enough for now," he told her, wringing his hands together.

She waited a moment before asking, "So, can you tell me? Or..." She didn't finish. The words Or am I not allowed to know? stung to get out.

"I will," he told her quickly. "I will, I promise. But not now, no past one o'clock in the morning."

"When?"

He thought for a moment. "Come over tomorrow night, and I'll explain everything. You have my word."

She looked up at him, and then nodded. "Okay," she murmured.

"Okay," he echoed her, turning back to the wheel and starting the old vehicle back up again. The protesting engine slowly coughed back to life, and soon Clark had it back on the dirt road, heading for who-knows-where.

It was then that she realized he never answered any of her questions concerning the bar. How did he slip in without her noticing him? Why didn't he say anything beforehand? God, she was asking a lot of questions tonight. The little voice in her head that liked to talk a little too much told her to shut up and enjoy the moment. Especially when she hadn't had the opportunity to in such a long time.

So she sat back and stole glances at her oldest friend in the driver's seat, wanting for him to drive pointlessly around until tomorrow night.

Now, because I haven't posted in around 10 years, I'd really appreciate if you left me a little something to go off of for the next chapter. The DVD just came out, so that will help me a little as far as storyline goes, but I want your input!

Much love!