The long awaited...Charmed Meets Smallville! Tada! Okay, so it's not much. But I've been promising it for like, six stinking chapters and now it's finally here! In other news, I got punched in the face yesterday. Really kinda hurts.

Charmed Season - two or three (obviously not four onwards)

Character(s) - Prue

Smallville - Early. High school years so...from one to three, I suppose. Before episode 4x08.

Character(s) - Clark Kent a.k.a future Superman

Disclaimer - Oh, I don't own something? Tell me something I don't know. (Now you have Selena Gomez's song stuck in your head. Your welcome.)

Charmed Meets Smallville

Though Prue didn't get annoyed often, this boy was trying her patience. Okay... so that was a complete and total lie. Prue got annoyed when Piper didn't stick up for herself, she got annoyed when her boss asked something huge of her at the last-minute, she got annoyed when Phoebe...was Phoebe. She got annoyed when her coffee maker acted up. But still – this was irritating her to no end.

"It's okay." She tried to assure him. "I know you saved that little girl. I saw you throw that guy into the wall."
"Umm...what are you talking about?" The young man asked, his face filled with the appropriate amount of confusion. As cute as the tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed teen was, he was both too young for her and quickly becoming a nuisance.

"Oh, come on, I was right there." She gestured angrily to the alleyway they were still standing in.

His clear eyes clouding with fear, he violently shook his head and gave a shaky laugh.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, lady. Y-you must be hallucinating or having a stroke or something." He said, obviously lying. He was horrible at it.

"HOW OLD DO YOU THINK –" Prue sucked in a deep, calming breath and attempted to surrender her righteous indignation. He's just scared. She reasoned. No reason to take offense, he was just trying to cover his tracks. Like we do.

Somewhat less furious, she continued.

"It's fine, I'm not going to tell anyone or anything – I'm a witch, too. I'm one of the Charmed Ones."

Either the kid had suddenly gotten good at looking puzzled, or he genuinely had no idea what she was talking about.

"'Charmed One?'" He echoed. So far in her experience as more-than-a-mere-mortal, no one in the supernatural realm had ever failed to recognize what those two words meant, what her and her sister's destiny truly was, and Prue had to admit, she missed the usual gasp and reverent stare that accompanied it. Hmm. Maybe she was getting a tinsy bit proud.

Irritation returning swiftly, she tried to sum up something she didn't exactly understand herself, with mixed results.

"You know, the Charmed Ones? Three sisters, destined to fight evil, descended from Melinda Warren herself? No? None of this ringing a bell?" She watched as he shook his head negative. "Well, I mean... you are a witch, aren't you?"

A few moments ago it had seemed so blatantly obvious that he was a part of her world. She had actually been planning on asking him for help – and questioning how she'd gone from walking to her car after work, in the dark, to standing in a small back alley sometime mid-afternoon-ish. Then some kind of demon – he had certainly looked like a demon with glowing green eyes, claws, and a violent streak – had chased after a little girl, actually throwing the car that she'd hidden under into the air to get to her. And like some sort of superhero this boy had shown up, running faster than she could see, and saved the poor child by yanking the man away from her. Prue had been about to, of course, but had been seriously put-off by the Smallville named shops right in front of said alley-way. Last time she checked, Smallville wasn't the city she worked in; in fact, Smallville wasn't even a city in California.

Now she was fine with most magical transportation, and orbing was actually sort of fun now that she'd gotten accustomed to it, but blinking and suddenly finding herself in a different state and time-zone was where she drew the line. She'd stick with cars, buses, and the subway, thank you very much.

"I'm not a witch, miss. I have no idea why you thought that, I mean, witches don't even exist!" The cute boy in front of her said, scratching the back of his neck in a small-town, homely sort of manner.

Prue Halliwell took to patience like demons took to sunshine; so rather than argue about what she plainly saw to this teen-in-denial, she waved a few fingers at a empty, littered soda can and felt a smug smile unfurl itself unto her face as the can obediently flew into her hand. The boy glanced from her face to the can in shock.

"H-How did you..." He stuttered. "Are you a...a meteor freak?"

Alrighty. That was new. The Oldest Halliwell sister had enjoyed the look on his face while it had lasted, yet now it was fading to a mix of wariness, uncertainty, and dread, and she couldn't figure out why.

"What do you mean, a 'meteor freak'? I'm a witch!"

He cocked an eyebrow at her and she shot a scowl at him. That was her look!

"So you're saying you...wear a pointy hat and ride around on a broomstick?" He questioned dubiously.

"Stereotypes." She muttered venomously. "No, look here – I'll do a spell."

Confronting him on the hope that he'd be able to help her was fast becoming a worse and worse idea. If he wasn't straight out denying the magic in front of his eyes, he was generally just being unhelpful. But she was in this far, right? Might as well prove it and see if she could get an admission out of him.

"Okay, let's see..." She swept her bangs behind her ear and blew out a sigh, trying to think. Though Phoebe had had the most luck getting spells to work on the dime, the Eldest Halliwell felt she had enough magic to make something witch-y happen.

"To help this doubter here, uh, believe,

do what he cannot...um, conceive,

give me proof that he might see,

"and...uh, summon me a..." For a second Prue blanked. What should she summon? Crap, what had she said, again? 'See'? Was that it? Oh, no, what rhymed with see?!

"A...a...a banshee!"

Prue smiled triumphantly as the street began to shimmer and the wind picked up, signs that something unexplainable was about to happen. Then frowned, realizing what she'd asked for.

"Wait, that wasn't what I mean to -"

She was cut off by a horrible, ear-piercing, makes-you-want-to-scratch-your-face-off screaming, coming from a source that hadn't quite materialized yet; a dead looking woman, otherwise known as a 'Banshee'. Lights danced around it and the wind howled almost as loud as the creature, making it seem more ominous than it was.

"Wait, wait, wait!" She called to the now ashen colored teen over the screeches and the magical winds. "I can fix this!"

"You did this? You actually did this? You're really a witch?!" He yelled. If nothing else good came of the situation, it seemed he wasn't denying supernatural stuff anymore. Not that Prue had ever exactly been a there's-always-an-up-side kind of gal.

"Um, yes, technically, but this wasn't what I meant to do. B-b-but I can fix it!" Quick, a spell! The rational part of her brain reasonably pointed out that her crappy on the spot spell-casting skills were why her ears were probably bleeding now. It didn't stop her from trying, though.

"Hang on a minute, I got this! We, uh, –"

"You're doing another spell! After you just brought this-this thing here! Are you insane?!" The teen practically exploded.

"Banshee!" She informed him. "Now shush!"

Luckily the Banshee hadn't appeared fully yet, so its screams didn't have the power it would in a few more seconds if Prue left it alone. Summoning took time, she mentally filed away for later. That was good to know.

"Come on, come on..." She mumbled to herself. If she'd thought spells were hard normally, that was nothing compared to rhyming under pressure. It was really hard!

"Well, here goes nothing.

We call the spirits, uh, to help undo,

and send this thing back,

to.." Crap! Again! What the heck rhymed with undo?! Why had she said that, nothing even rhymed with that!

Alright, from now on she was leaving the spell writing solely to Phoebe, because she couldn't seem to write one to save her life. Or a random possibly innocent, possibly witch's life.

"Tinbucktu!" She screamed on a whim.

Either the spirits had come through or fate had simply taken pity upon the poor witch; soon enough the two were left alone in the alley, banshee-less, the wind and lights slowly dying back down.

Smoothing back her windblown hair and quickly straightening out her blouse, she put on the biggest grin she could manage, seeing as she was fairly agitated at the moment, and stuck out her hand to the dark-haired teen.

"Hi!" She said. "I'm Prue. It's nice to meet you."

And she never did catch his name - after a whole five minutes of gaping and glaring disbelievingly at her, he sped off, faster than any human possibly could. But to be fair, she hadn't really given him a good experience with witches. She hoped that wouldn't come back to haunt her.

A/N: Poor Clark! He's never really had good experiences with witches, has he? Or magic in general, depending on your definition of 'magic'. I was writing this and then I remembered that he'd actually met witches before, in season four, so I went back and watched that episode. It has absolutely nothing to do with this chapter, but still... Fun.

Sorry again if everybody wasn't in character or anything. Prue and Clark are surprisingly hard to write, and together they made for a tough chapter. But it's here, and I have no idea what to do next.

Ideas? Requests?

As always, please follow, fave, keeping reading...and review! Thanks! Love you!