Okay, here's the last chapter to the story, not including the upcoming epilogue. I just want to take this time to thank everyone for reading and commenting on this. Knowing I had fanshas really motivated me to write through hurricanes, tests, holidays, graduations, etc. I hope you all love this last bit:)

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Jonathan used his worn and calloused hands to fetch a chair from a corner of the room and slide it next to his wife. He then walked over to the small window that was given to them in their predicament and pulled open the blinds to let in the tiny amount of sunlight that was peeking through a blanket of grey clouds. All the while, Martha's blue eyes followed his every move.

"How is he doing?" he asked her in a coy tone.

"Same as before," Martha said in monotone. "Jonathan, maybe we should…"

"How could you not tell me about the baby?" the man interrupted as his hurt eyes gazed upon the redhead.

"I…I…" Martha was at a loss for words. There was really no excuse for not telling him about the baby.

"Is it even mine?"

"Yes, Jonathan," Martha replied, hurt. "It was conceived a month ago."

"A month ago," Jonathan repeated, almost robotically.

"I don't see why we're talking about this when there are more pressing matters here."

"Like the fact that our son is lying there…because of me," Jonathan shuddered through the immense lump in his throat. "It's not like I have to admit it anyway. You know my guilt as well as I do. It's not like you can lie about it now."

Within seconds there was an eruption of harsh words from both sides of the couple. It was almost like, there were no words, just yelling. The nurses were frightened to get involved and everyone passing by jogged past the room in fear that they would have to be the ones to stop it. However, even though no one bothered to listen to the words they were saying, there was one who could understand everything.

xXxXxXx

Clark was on his knees covering his ears as the cutting words continued to flow into his being. There was really no way to keep it out. His ears were not what was hearing this exchange, it was his soul.

"Aelora, can't you do something to stop them?"

"Clark, I know what you're thinking, and this is not Touched by an Angel. They have to work it out on their own. Angels can't do it for them."

Clark slowly brought his hands down and put them on his knees. "I'm guessing that they're fighting the same battle I was, only in a different way."

Aelora nodded and said, "Exactly right. You're really catching on to this whole underworld of ours."

"I guess I am, but there's one think that I can't understand. Why did I feel my pinkie? It was only for a second. Why didn't I just wake up?"

"Admitting flaws honestly is the first step, as well as admitting that your enemies are wrong," she said.

"I'll repeat. Why didn't I just…wait a minute. How did you know I did that? I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to. It was in your heart. I saw it."

"Oh, so now you're telepathic?"

"Nope. You're not seeing the same thing I'm seeing in here. To your eyes, everything here has concrete form so that it is easier for you to handle and…you know what? You'll learn all of this eventually. Let me answer your last question. The only way that the spell will be broken completely is if your parents defeat this enemy as well."

"So you're saying that I could die if my parents don't…whatever they have to do."

"They have to forgive themselves and each other, and you won't die yet, you'll just stay in a coma."

"For how long?" Clark gulped.

Aelora shrugged her shoulders and said, "As long as your body can take it, I guess."

"Okay…so if they don't get over this anger, I'll still be toast and all of our fighting will have been for nothing?"

"In a nutshell, yes," Aelora sighed. "This horrible act was put forward by the enemy not only to destroy you, but your family as well. Since they can't get to you anymore, they're going after them so even if you do survive, which is unlikely if they are not defeated, you'll still be miserable. Plus, despite the fact that they're not saints, your parents are still very moral, and that makes them targets. Also, if they are still inhabited by demons, then you are pretty much 'toast by association' because of the connection."

"Excuse me?" Clark asked, confused.

Aelora sighed before giving yet another lesson. "There is a story in the Bible about Jesus healing a child who was possessed by demons because his mother was a deep pagan. The part of the story that you don't know is that the demon got to the boy because of her channeling of evil spirits. The boy was very young and not coherent enough to combat the dark forces within his bloodline so that he could avoid the torture. Even though this is a very different situation, the connection you share with your parents is just as strong."

"Okay," Clark said, looking down. "I think I get it now, but if I'm not around to keep them together, it will only get worse and worse and…oh Aelora, there has to be some way I can get to them to defeat these..."

"Let's stop right there. You can't fight spiritual battles for other people unless they are completely possessed."

Clark sighed and ran his fingered through his dark hair as his only hope for helping his parents fizzled. "What else can I do? Is there a way I can talk to them?"

"There is," Aelora chimed. "And now that you've realized that, I'll be right back."

"What," Clark asked confused. "Where are you going?"

Before she disappeared, the angel paused, "Angels might not be able to force people down the path of righteousness, but we can leave breadcrumbs to lead them there."

xXxXxXx

A heavy knock on the door interrupted the heated exchange between the couple. They figured that it was a doctor telling them to quiet down, but who they saw was not the doctor they expected.

"Mr. and Mrs. Kent," said the brown-haired woman standing in the doorframe dressed in a white lab coat. "May I talk to you for a few minutes?"

"Now's not really a good time," said Martha in a shaky voice, trying to figure out where she had seen this woman before.

"No, I think it is," she said in an assertive tone. "Your fight is very disturbing."

"Oh," Martha said, blushing. "I'm sorry if we've disturbed other people in the hospital."

"I'm talking about for your son," she replied in a strong voice.

Jonathan didn't know why, but the voice was disturbing him.

"Who are you?" Jonathan yelled at her. "This is a family matter and it's none of your business!"

Martha was embarrassed at her husband's rude behavior, but she was more intrigued by this woman's familiarity. She tried to banish it from her mind, but it was nagging at her.

"I'm a friend of your son. That's all you need to know for now."

Before the parents could respond, the woman raised her hand so that her palm was facing that couple and watched them collapse to the ground in a catatonic trance. She then proceeded to quickly lift them both into chairs so that no one walking by would ask any questions. She sighed and tried not to worry about what might happen and focused on praying for her friend to have wisdom to comfort his hurting parents.

xXxXxXx

The two feuding individuals opened their eyes to behold the amazing white light around them. Martha looked over to see her husband beside her shivering in extreme fear as his vision was fixed on a particular sight. It did not look like a fear that resulted from a frightening sight, but rather from surprise and awe. Curious, Martha turned her head to find out what was scaring him.

"Clark!" Martha choked out as she put her hands over her mouth. Her son was standing there in the exact clothes that he wore on the last day she had seen him happy. His beautiful skin was flawless, with no sign of injury anywhere on his body. Martha was speechless as she finally looked into the pure eyes of her son after days of only seeing the closed eyes of the scarred shell that was only a small fraction of what he used to be. She didn't say anything else before she ran into his waiting arms.

Clark wasn't able to describe how good it felt when he finally wrapped his arms around his mother's small body. It was like he was finally whole again and loved. The motherly contact that had eluded him was finally here and he wasn't he could do what he needed to do. The last thing he wanted right now was for his mother to be angry with her for interfering with her marriage. However, Aelora brought his parents here for a reason and he had to do this no matter how much he felt in this moment.

"Clark. How…?" Martha tried to get the words out but stopped herself because she didn't want to know how. She just wanted to hold the boy that her arms had longed to love to for so long.

"You're in my soul now, Mom. We had to get you here so that I could talk to you and Dad." He looked over to Jonathan who was still keeping his distance. Clark arched his eyebrows to indicate a desire for him to come nearer. However, the frightened farmer did not move a muscle.

"Oh Clark," Martha cried. "I've missed you so much. I'm so happy to see that you are still in here and fighting. Everyone said you weren't, but I knew you were."

"Well, my fight is over now, mom."

"That's right, Baby, and you handled it like the prince you are," she began. "I've waited so long to tell you that I am so proud of you. You went through the worst ordeal anybody can go through and yet you showed the same love and compassion as always. You're my hero and you always will be."

"I know you're proud, Mom, which is why you don't have to try too hard to prove it. I know you love me. I know that the first baby wouldn't have replaced me. Please don't think that Marduk convinced me of anything else."

"Mar who?" Martha asked with confusion.

"Never mind," Clark laughed. "Let's just say that I don't believe what I heard in that church at all. Unfortunately, I think I'm the only one."

Martha widened her eyes and backed away slightly from Clark. She narrowed her gaze and uttered, "What are you suggesting?"

Clark sighed, praying that his mother got the point, before continuing. "We're connected, Mom. In most situations our connection would not change this predicament, but now it's the only the only thing that can."

"What are you talking about, s…Clark?" Jonathan asked, getting closer.

Clark let out a happy sigh as he gained his father's attention. "This is a spiritual war, guys. It's been going on for years and it's finally reached its climax. I've won my part of the fight, but now you have to win yours. If you don't win, there's a possibility that I won't come out of this coma anytime soon."

"A war?" Martha asked, confused, and trying to take the subject off of the possibility of Clark dying. "Clark, I admit that this is a horrible situation, but I wouldn't go so far as to say that this is a war."

"You would if you could see beyond just this world," Clark made sure to speak loud so that his father would also be able to hear his words. "Now, before you brush me off, you have to take into consideration that this entire encounter would be impossible if such a world didn't exist."

Martha was trying to get over the surprise over this new way of talking her son had adopted while saying, "And I'm guessing that you can or something?"

"I saw a small part of it," Clark said as he guided his mother's hand down to the sword that was still at rest at his side.

"But…" Martha tried to suppress the scream her throat wanted to let out as she touched the weapon's handle.

"It's up to you two," Clark said sternly, not letting her say another word. "You have to defeat all of the doubt and the fear that is taking over before it completely destroys you."

Jonathan and Martha looked at each other across the long distance separating them and used their eyes to express the desire for each other to try and convince Clark that this was not as bad as they thought.

"Clark," Martha spat after she angrily realized Jonathan wasn't going to say another word. "I admit it. You and your father are having a fight. That's it! All couples have fights. I don't see why your fate or anything else depends on it."

Clark sighed as he tried to take in the flood of wisdom flowing into his head. "Really big fights between you and Dad are few and far between, Mom. You know that as well as I do. Plus, they're never about things like this. You blame dad for what happened to me, and that's understandable, but right now it's only a result of your anger about me. It's okay to be angry, but you have to get rid of every way that it could become something worse. Don't prolong the suffering that we've gone through these past days."

Martha wanted to protest again, but her heart told her that there was no point. Her son was right, as usual. She nodded and closed her eyes as she laid her head against Clark's chest once again. She could hear a beating heart inside the chest much harder than she heard any heart beat. She knew that the heart inside his body was now weak, but this heart, the heart of his spirit, was strong and it was in the right place.

"Are you saying that we have to work this out right now?" Martha asked, frightened.

"Well, yeah," Clark laughed. "That would be preferred."

"I don't know, Clark," Martha whispered. "These things take time."

"Only a few words will solve this problem, or at least solve it enough to declare us the winners of this fight."

"Oh…but…your father doesn't seem to want to participate." Martha stuttered.

Clark's eyes drifted over toward the form of his father, which was hanging its head so low that his chin was touching his chest.

"He's scared, Mom," Clark cooed. "I think I know why, and I also think I know how to help him out of it."

Clark kissed his mother's forehead and gently pushed her so that she got a signal to let him go. She nodded before reluctantly backing away to let her son walk toward her hurting husband in the distance. As Clark neared, Jonathan's heavy head lifted up and stared at his beautiful and almost perfect son through teary eyes.

"Dad, please," Clark said as he reached his fingers toward his father's face. The farmer's heart felt full of fear as he looked at the nearing hand. He backed away and hid his face to shield from the glow that was emanating off of his son's clean spirit.

"Don't call me that," Jonathan choked out. "I don't deserve to be called your father. I betrayed you."

A single tear slid down Clark's cheek, but despite the shunning gesture, he continued to reach out his hand. His outstretched hand touched the shoulder of his mentor and patriarch.

Jonathan felt a wave of warmth as the two souls connected, but he was forced to pull away.

"Get away from me, Clark," Jonathan whispered with intensity.

"You're not going to hurt me again, Dad!"

"How can you say that?" Jonathan shouted as tears began to emerge from his eyes. "How do you know that those feelings weren't truly in my heart?"

"Daddy," Clark whispered back. The word hit Jonathan like a flaming arrow as evidenced by a visible shiver. "You're not going to hurt me. You love me."

"How can you say that?" Jonathan yelled as he turned to face the boy. "I…look what I did to you!"

"It wasn't you."

"That's too easy to say Clark! I should have fought harder. I…"

Another warm sensation caused Jonathan to stop in his tracks. This time it was on his heart. Clark was touching his chest with the tips of all five fingers while slowly working his palm foreword so that it too was touching. The man's eyes closed as the warm feeling enveloped his being, stunning his into silence. He slapped his own hand over that of his son's and gripped hard. Tears were beginning to flow down his cheeks as the feeling continued to work his way though his own soul. He didn't want this to leave him.

"Dad," Clark said while his father was still silent. "You said that you loved me more than anything. I believe you. Now tell me again, do you love me?"

Jonathan brought his blue eyes up to meet the deep green of Clark's before he uttered, "Of course, I mean, I thought I did…"

"Don't over-think it, Dad. Do you love me?"

Jonathan furrowed his brow and gulped before stuttering, "Of course. You know I love you."

Clark smiled and nodded before saying, "Then care for my mother."

"Excuse me?" Jonathan asked, confused.

"Do you love me, Dad?"

"You already asked me that Clark. You know I love you." Jonathan was beginning to feel a little hurt by the questioning.

Clark put his other hand on the farmer's shivering cheek and began to wipe away his tears with his thumb. "Then accept my forgiveness."

"Clark," Jonathan whispered with closed eyes. "How can I do that? You're just forgiving me because its what you do."

"Dad," Clark interrupted. "I really do forgive you. I forgive you for the church. I forgive you for the words. I forgive you for all of the times you thought that you failed as a father. A few of those times it might have been true, but it really doesn't matter anymore. We're flawed, Dad. Everyone is. We all make mistakes and all the PC blather in the world isn't going to change that. God knows that and that's why we have the inert talent of giving and accepting forgiveness within us. All you have to do is look a little bit and you'll find it."

Jonathan was silent as Clark dropped his hands to let him take in the words. The farmer looked as his son's smiling face as memories began to overtake his mind. The glow of happiness that was felt when opening Christmas presents. The beauty of love whenever they gathered for Thanksgiving dinner. The times in which Clark always showed him love no matter what. The numerous occasions when Clark told him he couldn't survive without him. They touched him deep down and for some reason he didn't understand, reassured him that there was no danger within his soul.

Without warning, Jonathan surged forward and threw his muscular arms around the boy. Clark followed suit and ran his fingers through his father's blond hair and kissed his cheek in order to comfort him as he began to cry violently. Jonathan's sobs were so loud that they began to echo around the soul, even making Martha's ears tingle.

"Oh Clark! My son! Clark." Jonathan's words were jumbled as he tried to make his shaking lips catch up with his breath.

"It's okay Dad," Clark whispered as he continued to stroke his father's scalp. He only had to do this for a few minutes before they felt another set of arms join in on the love connection. The two looked over to see Martha clutching both of her favorite men and sobbing in a sorrowful manner.

"Martha…" Jonathan said in a neutral voice.

"I'm sorry," she cried. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea you were hurting so much."

"Its okay, Sweetheart," Jonathan whispered in her ear. "I'm sorry, too."

Normally, Clark would be sickened by the numerous words of affection that followed, but this time, the boy was thrilled. He smiled as he held his beloved parents close to him and took in this beautiful moment that he had been longing for so long. The warmth that Clark felt around him made him glance toward the ceiling of his soul. Clark could feel sensations all around him as his body started to regain strength and his spirit was beginning to connect again.

About ready to cry himself, Clark said. "I think the spell is broken. I can feel the sun! I'm starting to heal."

"The sun?" Jonathan uttered before sniffing. "It's been overcast all day. I mean, the window's open, but…"

"Jonathan," Martha interrupted with a smile. "I think that it's about time we just accepted these things when they happen."

"I'm glad you think that, Mrs. Kent," said a feminine voice from a small distance away.

The three heads whipped around to meet the deep blue eyes of the tall woman dressed in white with a radiant smile on her face.

"Aelora," Clark laughed.

"Aelora!" Martha and Jonathan said as they suddenly recognized the strange woman. No more words needed to be said as realization took shape in the couple's minds.

"Aelora, I…I think I'm waking up." Clark said happily. "They…we did it. We won our first real spiritual battle."

"Well, it hasn't been your first spiritual battle, but it was certainly the most difficult," Aelora said as she walked toward the boy. "Soon you and your body will be one again, and after that, all of the doubts and fears that come with it will return."

"Yeah, you're right," Clark said to his friend. "But we'll get through it. Heck, if we can get through a demon's brand of torture, we can get through anything."

"You know that this isn't the end of these attacks, right?" Aelora said with a worried tone. "They know that you are going to be something great, and they're not going to give up in trying to destroy your family. You're not invulnerable to their attack just because you're now a strong soul. Only perfect souls can resist them completely."

"I know," Clark said, taking in Aelora's warning. "Next time they come, I'll be ready for them, mostly because of what you told me." The boy then smiled and said, "Thank you for everything."

"You're welcome, Love," Aelora said as she reached past his parents and squeezed the boy's large shoulder. She then gave affectionate pats on the back to both of the stunned parents as they looked back and forth from Aelora to Clark, confused and amazed at the same time.

"I'll explain later," Clark laughed as he noticed his parent's confused faces. "Besides, we have the rest of our lives, now."

The End