Chlark Fanfic: The Perfect Gift, Chapter 8

[babydee1]

Hey there, everyone! :-D

Have had a superbusy weekend, and just as it gets to my birthday...it's a monday.  Typical! :-(

But, I managed to tidy up two chapters of The Perfect Gift, which is my gift to y'all, so it won't look like I'm the only one gettin' pressies today. ;-)

This post is dedicated to red_81 , who was special enough to share my birthday with me.  Many happy returns, Rachel! :-D

Enjoy.

~Um...please show me some lurve on both chapters, otherwise I might not be as inclined to post both chapters at once anymore!~

(Yes, I am needy and pathetic like that.  Sue me!) :-P 

Title:              The Perfect Gift (a.k.a Five Times Clark got Chloe a Birthday Pressie)

Author:          BabyDee
Pairing:          Chlark

Rating:           NC-17 (this chapter PG13)

Warnings:     Graphic Sex (not in this chapter, though)
Timeline:      Seasons 1 – 5 (spoilers for Spell in this chapter)

Disclaimer:   All characters belong to the CW & DC comics. 

Summary:     Clark attempts to get the perfect birthday present for Chloe, with hilarious results.

Feedback:      I love it. J

 

 

Author’s Note: I’ve played around a bit with show canon regarding who did what in the episode.  Just so ya know.  Yanno? ;-)

 

 

Read previous chapter here.

Read story from the beginning here.

 

 

 

Chapter 8

 

 

The Fourth Pressie

The 1899 Underwood Antique Typewriter: Part 4

 

 

 

Apparently, everything he needed to know still hadn’t been enough to help Clark.  Because here he was, being held down by Isobel, Brianna and Madeline – aka Lana, Lois and Chloe – and they were chanting something in what sounded like Latin.  As they droned on, he could feel the cosmic energy leaching out of him, and his eyes widened in horror.

 

The witches were stripping him of his powers. 

 

Desperately he stared at Chloe – or rather, at the witch who was wearing her body.  Earlier he’d tried to make contact with the best friend he knew was in there somewhere, and for a few short seconds he thought he’d succeeded as Chloe’s eyes stared back at him in concern. 

 

“Chloe,” he’d pleaded.  “Please help me.  I know you’re in there.”

 

“Clark?” she’d whispered, looking at him in worry.

 

But it had all been an act.  Madeline had cackled in evil glee, and he realised she’d been playing him. 

 

“You think I would make Chloe accessible to you simply because you showed me pleasure?” she sneered, looking at him as if he were a snivelling insect. 

 

“If I’d had any idea it wasn’t Chloe, it would never have happened,” he spat.  “She’s the one I wanted, not you.”

 

The witch smiled at him pityingly.  “Touching.  Such a shame you’ll never see her again.  You’re welcome to experience her through me, though.” 

 

He glared at her.  “I don’t know what you want from us,” he growled.  “But I’ll save Chloe from you, no matter what it takes.”

 

“It’s too late for you, farmboy,” Isobel chimed in triumphantly.  “Your magicks are gone.  Now, you will tell us the location of the Stone of Power, or we’ll make you regret your very existence.”

 

“Go to hell,” he spat, determined not to give in to the evil trio despite the pain he was in.  “I’m not telling you anything.” 

 

Isobel’s eyes narrowed and she lifted a hand and waved it in his direction.  “Restricta!” she said, and suddenly a skein of rope whizzed through the air and wound itself around his wrists, tying him to one of the beams.

 

Oh, shit.  With all his strength he yanked and pulled at his restraints, but his actions only made the bonds tighter. 

 

“You were saying…?” Isobel smirked, making Lana’s usually pretty face look unspeakably cruel.

 

He ceased struggling and glared at her.  “I was saying nothing,” he spat.  “You won’t get anything out of me.” 

 

“Oh, really?” drawled Brianna/Lois, advancing on him and placing her clawed hand on his chest.  Clark shuddered at her threatening touch, but refused to waver.

 

Brianna’s sharp nails curled cruelly into his flesh, and he cried out as she pieced his skin and warm blood dripped down his chest. 

 

“Let me cut it out of him,” she snarled, but then Isobel cut in. 

 

“Calm yourself, Brianna, you bloodthirsty wench,” she said, walking slowly forward and peeling her cohort’s hand off his chest.  “There are easier ways to get what we want.”

 

She turned to face Madeline, who was standing behind her.  “Isn’t that so, Madeline?”

 

Clark studied Madeline, her face so like Chloe’s that his heart felt like it would break.  Madeline in turn tilted her head and stared at him searchingly. 

 

“This body I inhabit,” she said slowly as she came to stand before him, “you have feelings…real feelings for it, don’t you?”

 

“Her name is Chloe,” he said through gritted teeth.  “And how I feel about her is none of your business.”

 

“Well, I’m making it my business,” she said sultrily, raising a hand and lifting an errant dark lock of hair off his forehead.  “For what it’s worth…she feels the same way about you.” 

 

Clark’s eyes widened.  He wasn’t sure if Madeline was giving him a true report of Chloe’s feelings, and he really should know better than to trust a conniving hag who had already played him several times in the last several hours…but hope swelled in his chest that she was telling the truth. 

 

“Really?” he couldn’t help asking as she stretched up on tiptoe in front of him.

 

“Really,” she whispered, inclining her head and pressing his mouth against hers. 

 

Even though he was restrained, cut up and bleeding, all thoughts of pain fled from his brain as Chloe slipped her tongue into his mouth.  His lashes drifted shut and he moaned loudly, leaning into the tender embrace as far as his restraints would allow.

 

“Demonstra,” she whispered against his lips, and as he kissed her he felt, literally felt the information being drawn from him.

 

The cave.

 

Too late, Clark realised what Madeline had done.  She stepped back, a smug look on her face.

 

“Thank you, farmboy.  You’ve been most helpful.”  She turned to the other two and grinned triumphantly.  “We need to make our way to the Kawatche Caves.  The Stone of Power is there.”

 

Clark cursed himself for his weakness.  He felt hurt, betrayed, and confused at the evil witches who wore the faces of people he cared about.

 

Isobel smiled at her cunning cohort.  “Excellent work, Madeline.  Let us be on our way.”

 

“And what of this one?” Brianna asked, indicating Clark with her forefinger. 

 

Isobel shrugged dismissively.  “He’s going nowhere.  T’would be tedious to take him with us, and yet I find myself reluctant to destroy him.  Besides,” she added, “he may yet come in useful; there are more Stones to be found.”

 

“Au revoir, ma chére,” Madeline said, blowing him a kiss as she walked out the door with the others. 

 

“Fuck off, bitch,” he cursed under his breath.

 

He heard a soft chuckle from beyond the door.  “Don’t make me hurt you, farmboy,” she responded to his parting shot.  “It would grieve me to make you bleed.” 

 

*** 

 

Clark must have hung there for over an hour in utter despair. 

 

He’d never felt so helpless in his entire life.  It was cruelly ironic that he should be powerless just at the time when he was ready to apply for a Sports Scholarship.

 

He sighed heavily, an acute ache building in his arms as they hung suspended over his head.  He’d always resented his abilities, because they were a constant reminder that he was different from every other person on the planet.  He’d always thought at if he were as normal as every other person, his life would be greatly improved.

 

But now that his abilities were gone, he’d never wanted them back more desperately than he did right now.  The three sorceresses would doubtless have the Stone of Power in their possession right now, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

 

Just then, he heard footsteps approaching the barn.  Heart pounding, he steeled himself and waited for the trio of evil to continue their cruel torment.

 

“Clark?” called a familiar voice – a male voice, much to his relief.

 

“Coach Teague?  I’m in here!” he called back desperately.

 

Jason, his football coach and Lana’s current boyfriend, rounded the corner and stared at his bloodied chest in shock.  “Oh, my God.  What happened to you?” he said, aghast.

 

“It’ was Lana,” he said as Jason pulled out a pocket-knife and started to cut through his bonds.  “And Chloe and Lois, but they’re not themselves.” 

 

“Why on earth did they torture you?” he asked, perplexed. 

 

The less said about that, the better, he thought shrewdly. 

 

“Something’s really wrong with them, Coach,” he said, evading the actual question.  “They seem to be…” he stopped, unsure of just how much to say to a newcomer to all the strangeness of Smallville.

 

“Possessed by the spirits of three 17th century witches?” he finished wryly as he cut through the last of the ropes and the bonds snapped free. Clark fell to his knees and rubbed his aching wrists gratefully.

 

“Thanks.  How did you know about the girls?” he asked.

 

“Lana went poking around in Isobel Thoreaux’s spellbook, and got a whole lot more than she bargained for,” he said grimly.  “Did she say where they were headed?”

 

“Uh…one of them said something about going to the school,” he lied. 

 

“I’ll see if I can catch them there before they cause some serious damage,” he said, rising. 

 

“I’ll have a look around and see if they show up on any local radars,” Clark replied, slipping into his ruined shirt.

 

“Okay, but take it easy, Clark,” Jason warned.  “These women are dangerous, and they’ve already hurt you once tonight.”

 

Clark shuddered at the memory.  He really didn’t need reminding of that. 

 

“Don’t try and do this on your own, alright?” Jason went on.  “Just call me if you need help.”

 

“I will.  Thanks again, Coach.”

 

He waited for Jason to head off down the driveway. As soon as the other man was out of sight, Clark jumped into his truck and drove off at top speed towards the Kawatche Caves.

 

***

 

Chapter 9…