Three.

"Clark! Supper!"

Clark blinked, looking around. He was lying on the sofa in the loft. 'What happened? Was it all a dream?'

"Clark?" the voice came again.

'Mom.' He needed to see her, to touch her, make sure she was ok.

"I'm coming!" he called back from the window. He super-sped into the house. Stopping in the kitchen door, he watched his mom putter around the kitchen, making ready the last details of supper. He rushed to her pulling her into a bear hug.

Martha Kent sputtered as her son engulfed her in his arms. "Clark? What's wrong, sweetie?"

Clark held back a sob threatening to escape. "I just love you."

"Oh, okay," was all she could think to respond. "I love you, too." She laid a hand on his face as he stepped back. "Why don't you go get your father. He's in the back pasture."

Martha laughed at her boy's high voltage smile that flashed as he super sped out the door.

"Dad!" Clark called at the top of the hill. He spotted his father about a hundred yards away on the tractor headed his direction.

Jonathan Kent waved at his son. The boy had been anxiously scanning the field, his visage erupting in a multi-kilowatt smile when he laid eyes on his father. He seemed to disappear and reappear beside him.

Clark placed a hand on his father's resting on the fender. "Mom says come eat," Clark shouted above the tractor.

At his son's body language and shaky voice, Jonathan's father radar started to bleep. "What's wrong, son?"

Clark shook his head, "Nothing, Dad. I just…" shrug.

Jonathan smiled reservedly. "Okay, let's go eat."

Clark beamed as he walked alongside his father all the way back to the house.

At the dinner table, Martha and Jonathan chatted softly about their day. Clark was lost remembering the dream. Martha looked over to her son pushing his food around his plate.

"Something wrong with your food, Clark?"

Clark looked up at her, eyebrows raised. "Uh, no. I'm…" shrug "…just thinking." He looked to his parents, paused in their conversation to listen attentively to their son. "I had a really weird dream…and it kinda spooked me." At their silence he continued. "Lex tricked me in to coming home and when I got here the house exploded with you two inside. He put a band made of meteor rock on my wrist and I passed out. Then I was in a small white room and some doctor was telling me that I had a mental breakdown. I wasn't strong and he gave me a shot of something." Clark absently rubbed his inner arm. "I woke up in the loft."

Martha and Jonathan exchanged a slightly worried look. "Clark, it was only a dream. We're here, your fine…"

"Yeah, and Lex would never betray me."

The shattering of the dining room widows backed everyone against the wall. Clark stood slightly in front of his parents, Martha clasped Jonathan tightly, as heavily armed men dressed head to toe in black came through the windows, the doors, even down the stairs behind them, training their weapons steadily on them.

Lionel Luthor stepped into the kitchen in his long black trench coat. After looking around he came toward the cornered family. "So sorry for the intrusion." He walked over to the table. Choosing a dinner roll, he took a bite.

"What do you want?" Jonathan came forward a step placing himself between his family and Lionel.

Lionel met Jonathan's glare and didn't drop it as he stepped around him and put his arm around Clark's shoulders. "I know what your son is, Mr. Kent."

Martha put a hand over her mouth. Jonathan clenched his jaw. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Lionel tisked at him. "Mr. Kent, don't insult my intelligence," he pouted. "You have a very remarkable boy here." He beckoned one of the soldiers in black. Taking something from him, Lionel turned back to the Kents.

Clark pitched forward, his complexion paling. Jonathan and Martha dove for him only to be physically restrained by the soldiers. Lionel kneeled beside Clark, holding a green metal wrist band.

Martha and Jonathan were shoved to their knees in front of their son. "Clark," Martha whispered.

"What ever you want…" Jonathan pleaded, his voice thick.

"Thank you, Mr. Kent." Lionel stood turning to leave as two men grabbed Clark by the arms, pulling him after.

"Mom. Dad," Clark called weakly.

"Hey!" Jonathan shouted.

Lionel looked back at the couple on their knees. "I want your son, Mr. Kent. Don't worry." A cold smile creased his face. "You won't miss him."

Clark struggled against his captors as they drug him off the porch. Lionel followed close behind, keeping the meteor rock close enough to keep him manageable.

"Now, now, young Mr. Kent," he chided. "Your father said 'anything.'"

A gunshot, his mother screaming, another shot, silence. A cry wrenched from his soul as he was stuffed into a black van where Lionel clasped the wrist band around his arm and darkness took him.