Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1710884.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Smallville
  Relationship:
      Clark_Kent/Chloe_Sullivan
  Character:
      Clark_Kent, Chloe_Sullivan
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-05-29 Words: 1492
****** The Death of Superman ******
by The_Fallen_Sky
Summary
     His body may be immortal, but the same can't be said for his soul.
Title: The Death of Superman
Author: The Fallen Sky
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Chlark
Summary: His body may be immortal, but the same can't be said for his soul.
Warning: This story contains a scene of graphic sexual assault. If this hits
too close to home or is too much for you to handle, please do not read this
story. You have been warned.
A/N: This is a future AU one-shot and is very angsty, sad and includes
character death.
Feedback is welcome.
 
He reaches the door and hesitates.
Walking through this door will change him forever, and as badly as he wants to
get to what's waiting for him on the other side, he has a whisper of doubt
plaguing him.
She sees his indecision as a glimmer of hope, an opportunity to save him, and
seizes it.
"You don't have to do this." Her voice is low but filled with resolve. "It's
not too late. You can stop before you cross a line you won't be able to come
back from."
His eyes move from the door to her, and she's startled by the emptiness she
sees there. Gone is the love and warmth she knew for so many years. In its
place is a cold nothingness that frightens her, causing her heart to break and
her eyes to sting with unshed tears.
He remains silent, his expression neutral, but his eyes speak volumes. The
nothingness is replaced by a cascade of pain and grief and guilt.
Her tears flow freely as the reality of his turmoil finally hits her. Somehow,
she's able to find her voice, and it's remarkably strong and calm considering
the circumstances.
"Clark, I know you're hurting, and I know you blame yourself for what happened,
but it's not your fault."
He doesn't respond. She presses onward.
"What you're planning, Clark, it's not the answer. Revenge isn't the answer.
Hurting those men, it won't change anything. Correction. Hurting those men will
change one thing." She pauses a moment to emphasize her point. "It'll change
you."
He's silent, and it's clear her words are having no effect. Her voice rises in
pitch, and she's practically pleading as she continues.
"If you do this, you'll never be the same. The good, kind-hearted man I know
and love will cease to exist if you go through with this. I know it's hard, but
you have to let go of this pain and anger, or it'll destroy you."
His eyes leave hers and focus on the floor. Taking his action as a hopeful
sign, she makes a final push to alter his chosen path.
"Think of Lara. How would she feel if you had to explain to her what you're
about to do? Would she be proud of you? Would she be able to look at you the
same afterwards?"
At the mention of Lara, his body begins to tremble. She knows this is killing
him, and she doesn't want to add to his pain, but she has to save him and will
do whatever it takes to do so.
"She loves you, and so do I. Neither of us wants to see you become a monster."
Her voice drops to just above a whisper. "Please, Clark. Be the man I married,
the father of my child. Be the hero I always knew you were. Be Superman."
His eyes drift shut, and silent tears begin to fall.
A sad smile graces her lips, because she knows she's just saved her soulmate
from making the biggest mistake of his life.
Without warning, his head snaps up, his eyes wide, filled with rage and glowing
orange.
Images bombard him, images that are forever burned into his memory, horrible,
life-shattering, soul-destroying images.
He sees his wife, stripped naked, beaten and bloody. He sees a man holding a
knife to his daughter's throat, threatening to kill her if his wife doesn't do
everything she's told. He sees several men approach his wife, unbuckling and
unzipping their pants. He sees them touch her naked body, watches her shudder
in revulsion but remain silent, not fighting back. He sees one of these men
grab her by the hair and force her to suck his cock. He sees another man move
behind her and thrust into her, fucking her hard as she whimpers in pain and
terror. He sees his daughter crying as she's forced to watch her mother being
violated.
He hears these men laughing and saying what a good cocksucker she is and how
wet and tight her pussy is. He hears them cry out as they come inside his wife.
He sees the tears stream down her face, sees the shame in her eyes from what's
just been done to her.
He sees more men approach her, their cocks hard and ready to enjoy being
pleasured by Superman's whore of a wife. He sees her violated over and over
again. It goes on for hours before it's finally over, and she's left lying on
the cold concrete floor in a puddle of sweat, tears and other bodily fluids. He
sees how broken she is.
Then he sees something that turns his blood to ice and causes his heart to
cease beating. He sees these men who ravaged his wife...he sees them...he sees
them turn their attention to...his five year old daughter.
He sees the mind-numbing terror in his daughter's eyes and etched into her face
as these bastards rip off her clothes and take turns raping her. He sees his
wife struggle and fight to get to their daughter, to protect her from the
savagery of these beasts. He sees these men restrain his wife, laughing and
cheering as, one by one, they all have a turn violating his baby girl.
Finally, he sees his wife and child lying lifeless in an alley in Metropolis,
their naked bodies black and blue and red from the torture they endured before
they were released into the comforting embrace of death.
He lost all faith in humanity when he watched the recording of his wife and
daughter being tortured and later discovered their bodies, discarded like
garbage.
The men who did this to his family, to him, they did it because he's Superman,
because they hate everything he stands for, because they hate him. They wanted
to send a message to him, to let him know that he may be untouchable, but the
people he loves aren't. Message received.
These bastards believed they'd be safe from retribution. Why else would they
openly show their faces on a recording of a brutal assault on his wife and
daughter? They knew he wouldn't apprehend them and leave their fate to the
judicial system, because no man would want the world to see his wife and
daughter being repeatedly raped, not even in the name of justice. They also
knew he wouldn't seek revenge, wouldn't find them and kill them. After all,
everyone knows that Superman doesn't kill, not even those who deserve it.
Turns out, they were wrong.
Seeing his family brutalized and finding their bodies discarded in a dumpster
changed him. His morals and ideals forgotten in a haze of anguish, despair and
fury, he hunted down each and every individual responsible for taking his
family from him. He brought them to this place, this abandoned building in the
middle of nowhere, because he intends to kill them, one by one, slowly.
With one hand, he reaches up behind him and grabs hold of his cape. At the same
time, he grabs hold of the House of El sigil on his chest with the other hand.
Simultaneously, he rips each symbol of Superman from its place. Clutching them
tightly in his fists, he lets loose a burst of heat vision, setting both items
ablaze before dropping them unceremoniously to the floor.
His eyes move back to the visage of his wife. He's not sure if she's a figment
of his imagination or if she's a ghost, but he's grateful to be able to look
upon her loveliness, to remember her the way she was before...before she was
taken from him.
He reaches out a hand to stroke her cheek, but instead of meeting warm, solid
flesh, his hand grasps nothing but empty air. Meeting her eyes, he says in a
raspy, broken voice, "Superman is dead."
Her words, meant to bring reason, meant to change his mind have instead
strengthened his resolve. Her tears flow freely as she resigns herself to the
reality that her beloved husband is gone, lost to grief and hatred. And yet she
can't help but look upon him with love in her eyes. Regardless of what he's
become, she loves him and always will.
Somehow managing to find her voice, she says, "I love you, Clark."
Upon hearing those words, a single tear escapes his eye before he turns back to
the door, opens it and steps through.
 
fin
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