From Krypton to the Impala

So, I don't own Smallville or Supernatural...Damn.

Thanks to those who have followed, favored, and/or reviewed.

I apologize for the long wait for this chapter. I've been dealing with my last semester at college and haven't had much time to write. And note, as the story progresses, it will get longer.

Previously...

They named him after John's mother Millie. Her maiden name had been Clark before she married John's bastard of a father. The other boys, Dean and Sam, had been named after Mary's deceased parents, who had never given John much thought.

He sighed as he watched his boys sleep. Had anyone told him a year ago he would have three sons, one being an actual alien, and a dead wife, he would have laughed and punched the jackass who said that to him. It was far fetched, but yet here he was. Here they were. There Mary had been.

The way Mary had sounded, how he found her on, there's no way the Winchesters had been alone during that. The boys had been in their beds, Sam in his crib. John in his chair, Mary on the ceiling.

Whatever had been in his house, it was different from what Clark was. Clark had been the only strange thing in John and Mary's life, until now. Problem was, he didn't know what his newly discovered oddity was.

John looked away from his sons and back at his burning house, watching as the fire destroyed his life and his wife.

September 18th, 1993

Not much had changed in Smallville, from what John could tell. Same acres of farmland, same charming little town filled with the same boring people, sans a good five thousand residents who had been living in the previously boring Smallville before the meteor shower hit.

As John past the towns sign, which proclaimed it to be "the Meteor Capital of the World!" he looked behind him and saw his three boys. Dean had his face pressed up against his window, out cold from the long drive in which he may have spent a few hours driving so John could rest from his previous hunt. John watched as the fourteen-year-old's breath fogged up his window before he glanced at ten-year-old Sam in the middle seat, keeping his nose firmly in a library book he hadn't had the time to return to his last school before leaving. On Sam's other side, Dean's "twin" brother Clark kept his eyes on the world outside the car, his Walkman blaring out one of Mary's old cassette tapes on repeat.

No one spoke on the drive. No one had the energy or patience to talk. Clark probably did, but he hadn't said anything to John since they left Ohio. He, like Sam, had been angry about needing to leave school as soon as they did. And he was, like Dean, angry that John refused to let him, and his brother join him on his last hunt, which had turned out to be a wendigo. And his adoptive son was angry in general about not being allowed to use his powers.

"Come on, Dad!" Clark had argued in their last motel room before John was meant to leave for his hunt. "What's the point of having these powers if you don't let me use them? I could go on hunts with you! Hell, I could help you with this one!"

As tempting as it would have been to test Clark's powers, John didn't want to take his chances with a wendigo, given its preference for human flesh. Clark was unaware of his origins, he didn't know about where he originally came from, not that John knew either. The boy didn't know about his spaceship or he came to them during a meteor shower that nearly killed the Winchester's on their drive home. Clark knew he was adopted, with his strange abilities, it was hard to keep up the familial lie of him being Dean's biological twin brother.

Mary had been the one to first discover Clark's abilities, when the then three-year-old boy snapped the dining room table in half and threw the old television set, which had been well over a hundred pounds, across the living room during a temper tantrum. She had disclosed her suspicions about the boy's strength before them being confirmed by the crying toddler who wasn't happy about bedtime.

"There's no way I would have been able to get out of the car after the you-know-what," Mary had explained a few days after they took Clark in. "John, the door was jammed, and I only got out after that little boy helped me."

John had discovered Clark's accelerated speed, though it had been somewhat...comical at the time. He, Dean and Clark were in the backyard at their home in Lawrence when he watched as his son's raced from one side of the yard to the other. Clark had not appeared to move, and when the boy claimed he did, it took him creating burn marks in the grass from how many times he ran in the same spot for John to believe him. Mary hadn't been happy with him for allowing the boy to scuff up the yard. Looking back at it now, John and Mary were lucky the boy hadn't run off to a different state or country. They would have had more problems then.

Time had been simple then, John noted as he pulled in front of the cleverly named Small Inn, located in downtown Smallville, on the same street where the meteor shower allegedly began.

The inn was a three storied brick building and looked as quaint as the rest of the town, and the same as it did the last time John drove past it nearly eleven years ago with Mary and Dean. John wished he could say that day had felt like it only happened yesterday. He would be lying to himself, hoping to feel that way. Mary had been dead for nearly ten years, and he didn't just have Dean anymore to care for, not that he did that much anymore regardless. Dean, and Clark, were both teenagers now, they didn't need him as much as Sam did. Not that John was there for Sam either, his other two sons spent more time with their younger brother then he did.

No one in the Winchester family expected any less, and it hurt John every time he thought about how much he screwed up over the years, but he was on a mission and he couldn't let anything stop him from completing it. No matter how much it affected his family.

"Dad?" John heard. Turning his head, he saw Sam staring at him, his green eyes calculating and observant as he stared at his father.

"Tell Clark to turn the music off, wake Dean up and you three get your stuff out of the trunk," John ordered as he turned his Impala off. He didn't wait for Sam to respond back as he opened his door. He grunted as he stepped out into the street the inn resided on. He grabbed at his throbbing side, bruised from the last hunt he still was healing from.

John walked into the inn as he eyed the surrounding buildings as shops began to shut down for the night. Hardly anyone was outside, except for a few residents on their way home. He could hear a car driving behind him as he entered the inn, where a middle-aged woman in a floral blouse stood at the check-in counter. She wore a chipped name tag, with "HELEN" engraved on it.

"Hi, welcome to the Small Inn," Helen said, pulling a smile on her face. John was too tired to tell if her smile was genuine or not. At this hour, he doubted it. "Pit stop for the night?"

"Not exactly," John said as he forced out a laugh and began his normal, over used lie. "My boys and I just moved from Lawrence. We're stuck until we can get a more permanent place here in town."

"Well," Helen said as her eyes became softer. "You won't be here long then, hopefully. Smallville may be small, but you won't find any trouble getting a home for you and your boys."

John watched as she titled her head and looked away from him. "Is that them?" she asked, causing John to turn his head and upper body and look at his son's as they walked in. Clark with his headphones around his neck, Sam carrying an old shoe box full of his books John thought were useless and Dean yawning. Each boy was carrying their duffle bags and backpacks, with Clark carrying a box that contained their normal protection equipment; salt, ammo, and the weapons too conspicuous for teenaged boys to carry while out in public.

"That's them," John confirmed as he looked back at Helen, who was pulling out a room key from a drawer attached to the counter.

"All the rooms cost thirty-five dollars a night, but two hundred for a week. I will also need to see an I.D.," Helen told John, who frowned but nodded as he reached into his coat pocket.

He pulled out his old, worn out wallet, which was full of fake I.D.'s, and credit cards with less-than-correct names on them to match. He opened the wallet and pulled out his real I.D. and placed it on the counter in front of Helen, who picked it up and examined it with her soft blue eyes. He then reached into the back pocket of his wallet and pulled out two crumbled up hundred-dollar bills from his last round of gambling three counties over.

John handed Helen the money as she reached out to give him back his I.D., which he took with a smile.

"Thank you," he said.

"Of course," Helen said, smiling back as she accepted the money. Her head tilted to the side, and John turned back to look at his sons. Dean, frowning and yawning, was leaning against an armchair, which Sam was sitting in as he bounced his leg up and down, and Clark was standing next to them, staring at the box in his arms as he attempted to not look impatient. John knew his sons were eager to get into their room, though they knew it would be some time before he allowed them to sleep.

"Unfortunately," Helen said, causing John to turn his head back towards her. She was no longer looking at the boys, but him as she continued speaking. "None of the rooms are quite large, I'm afraid. I have a room that's reserved for families; it has two full sized beds. I'll bring up a fold-out bed too. It's one of the bigger rooms but with three grown boys you got there, it won't be the roomiest."

"That's alright, Helen," John said as the woman held out a key chain with the number "15" taped on the head of the key.

"Room number fifteen," the woman said as John took the key chain. "And welcome to Smallville."

September 19th, 1993

Clark yawned as he stared at the ceiling of his family's hotel room. Sitting up, he rubbed at his eyes before he looked across the room and saw his father's bed empty. On the other bed, Dean laid sprawled out as he snored. Sam's side of the bed was empty, but the sound of running water alerted Clark to his younger brother's whereabouts.

Still, better to be safe than sorry, Clark thought as he pulled himself off the lumpy fold-out bed he had been forced to sleep in after pulling the short straw between himself and his brothers.

Stretching as he walked towards the bathroom door, he carefully knocked on the door as he called out, "Sam, you in there?"

"Where else would I be?" came the ten-year-old's grumpy reply, no doubt upset still about having to leave Ohio. Clark wasn't too happy about leaving either, but he wasn't as angry like his little brother was. Toledo was a distance from where their father's hunt had been, and Klinger lied when he said Tony Packo's had the best hot dogs. Dean, despite not being into hot dogs in comparison to burgers, had disagreed entirely with Clark, who ended up having to scrub onions and hot dog sauce out of his hair later that night after his twin brother threw a spare dog at him.

Clark rolled his eyes. "Far from here," he countered.

He heard the water shut off. "Dean up yet?" Sam asked from behind the door.

"No," Clark answered as he glanced over at his brother and then over at the wooden table next to the fold-out bed. Next to it was a dingy-looking mini fridge, with a smashed in microwave on top of it. The TV set next to it looked to be as old as his old man, if not older. Clark wondered if the damn thing worked just like his father as he walked towards the table and saw the cash on the table next to the box filled with rock salt and ammunition the Winchester's didn't need yet.

Frowning, Clark picked up the cash and began counting it as he heard the bathroom door open.

"Dad said the room's two-hundred a week," Sam said as Clark looked at him. "How much did he leave?"

"Enough to last keep us here long enough for him to start and finish up his hunt," Clark deflected as he pocketed the cash into his jean pocket.

"That's not an answer."

"It is for you, Sammy."

Sam frowned and Clark felt a little bad, but he didn't want his little brother worrying about money. Dean and he were here for that, not Sammy.

"We'll grab some stuff to eat later today," Clark said as he walked towards his father's bed and laid on it. The bed was as bad as the pull-out, but it was better than the damn cot on the ground.

"When do you think we'll stop moving around so much?" Clark heard his little brother say as the boy sat down next to him. Clark could feel his brother's eyes on him, too smart for a ten-year-old, too grown up for his liking.

"Whenever Dad kills the monster who killed Mom," Clark answered for what felt like the thousandth time. Dean never asked because he always knew, the same with Clark, but not Sam. He'd ask so many times when they all were younger that it was irritating, but now it was only depressing. When he was younger, Sam didn't know about the monsters, but now he did and that changed everything for the Clark and Dean. Clark and Dean were okay with lying to Sam when he was younger, because they both knew the truth sucked, especially when it came to their lives.

Lies kept Sam asleep at night, without any worry of the monsters their father hunted coming back and hunting them. At least until he learned the truth and years' worth of lies went out with the trash.

"What about you?" Sam asked and Clark looked at the younger boy, his blue-green eyes contorting into confusion.

"What about me?"

"What are you?"

Clark frowned. What he was, that was something he had always wanted to know himself, but no one had any answers. His dad didn't know, and his mother didn't either when she was alive. He had heard their story time and time again until John got too drunk and irritated to repeat it. He was found in some corn field here in Smallville after a bad meteor shower. He didn't know how he ended up in that corn field, and his father never elaborated on the events of the day he was found by the Winchester's.

"All that matters," John had once said, smelling like a distillery and looking like a walking advertisement for the bar he had spent the night in. "Is you're a Winchester. You're one of us, got it? Nothing else matters."

Clark doubted that, considering he could lift the Impala without so much as breaking a sweat.

Clark smiled as he looked at Sam, taking in the impatient look his brother was giving him. "I'm a Winchester," Clark said as he sat up, grabbed his brother around his shoulders and rubbed his knuckles into the boy's damp hair. "And you," Clark continued as he wrung his wet hand in the air, "need to dry your hair better."

Sam pushed Clark away, causing him to laugh as he fell on to his side.

"Hey, shut up," the two boys heard Dean say. Clark glanced at his other brother, who was covering his face with his hands. "Some people like sleeping on the weekend, you know."

"Yeah, well we're not like some people," Clark commented as he got off the bed and started walking towards the bathroom. "Hey Sammy, how's the water pressure?"

"It could be worse."

"That's not an answer."

"Now you know how I feel."

Clark didn't have a comeback for that one, so he shook his head in amusement as he walked into the bathroom to take a much-needed shower.

So, what do you think?

Please, review, like, and/or follow. That would great.

Until next time...

Review(s):

Guest (1): Thanks for the review.

Coolrod: Thanks for the review. You will have to wait and see about what I include in this.

Guest (2): Thanks for the review.

Kathy: Thanks for the review, I'm glad you're interested in reading more.

Guest (3): Thanks for the review and lol. That would be interesting to read, wouldn't it?

Guest (4): Thanks for the review.

Guest (5): Thanks for the review and will do.