A/N: Just reviewing my reviews. In answer to the 'will Pete be in this story' question, yes he will be, but not for a while yet. Sorry this one took so long, and that's it's slightly ranty, I just hate micro-mini wearing blondes.

Disclaimer: You know the drill. Same as always.

He walked down the alleyway huddled into himself. His hands rubbed against one another in a vain attempt to get warm. His head swam and his lips bled. His eyes had glazed over and fresh rain dripped off his sodden hair.

What have I done? How?.. How could this have happened? So, so cold. Can't get warm. Samantha! God! Oh Christ. I need to get home. But, but, what will mom say? What can I tell her? Shit.

Involuntarily Kevin's hand moved towards his mouth. The taste of blood on his tongue had altered him, but as he drew his arm back, he turned his face in disgust. His fingers were dripping green blood, think and clotted. More like poison, he thought bitterly.

What have I become? How can I go home now? How could I ever be accepted by anyone anymore? I need a place to think. God, so cold. I need help. Who am I kidding? Who in their right pissin' mind would help me. I'm just a jumped-up freak. I AM A FUC…

"I swear, the next time that Lane klutz serves me a cup of her crap I'm throwing it back in her face." A girl's voice interrupted Kevin's trail of thought.

"At least she left, let someone else cover her shift. And it could have been worse, one time she poured a whole jug of ice tea over Mandy. Crazy cow. I mean how does someone like that land a guy like Lex Luthor?" Another voice responded.

Kevin poked his head around the alley corner. Rachael. He smiled. She'll help me. She owes me that.

"Yeah, well, did you see Sullivan leave with Clark Kent? Like, what the hell's going on there?" Rachael asked her friend while pulling her long blonde hair out of her scarf.

"Maybe guys really do like the stubborn, opinionated kind." Her friend laughed mockingly. "Perhaps there's just no room left for us damsels in distress in this big, bad world." She wiped a pretend tear from her perfectly powdered eye. Suddenly the two former cheerleaders bust into a laughing fit that even a hyena would be proud of.

"Mmm…Clark Kent." Rachael said. "Come on," taking her friend by the arm. "I'm in the mood for an Orlando Bloom, Brad Pitt, mini-skirt feast."

The two girls headed towards Kevin, their teeth chattering, which was hardly surprising considering that their idea of a winter wardrobe was a skirt that came down to just above the knee.

"But I wanted to watch Tobey Maguire."

"Please Alice. Maguire is such a geek, you can do so much better." Rachael assured her friend.

"Rach…"

"Ah!" The two girls jumped at the hoarse whisper. "Who's, who's there?" Rachael ventured.

"It's me Kev. Please, I need your help." He moved into the light. Rachael's hands flew to her eyes, as she tried to hide the sight. Her friend was less subtle.

"AH! AHHH! AHHHHHH!" She screeched at the top of her voice.

"Please, please be quite." Kevin pleaded.

She continued to scream.

Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. The same thought ran through his head over and over, faster and faster.

"Shut up bitch! Just shut up!" His eyes bulged. Why has no one come yet? In his mind, hours had passed, but in reality, barely two seconds had elapsed.

She won't shut up. What can I do? I can't let them find me. They'll lock me up. Cut me up! Oh Christ. Oh, shit. What can I do? I could… I could.

And with that, Kevin pounced on Alice, smothering her mouth with his. He kissed her passionately, literally finding her core and pilling the life out of her. She fell limp in his arms. It was now Rachael's turn to scream, as she stood frozen to the spot. Kevin turned to her, grinning manically.

Striding threateningly towards her, his eyes flashed with revenge as he scooped her into his arms.

"Why?" She breathed.

"So you know how it feels to be humiliated." He leaned in closer. "Because you said no."

His lips pressed to hers.

Martha stirred down the alley besides the Talon disbelievingly. She swallowed hard. "Stacy," She called. "Call the Sheriff. Tell her to be quick." It didn't really matter, there was no one there to catch…

A/N 2: The moral of this story is that stubborn, opinionated women get Kryptonian gods. Mini-skirt wearing platinum blondes get a gravestone. It's more to reassure myself than anyone else but there you go.