Football, Goats, and Vampires, Oh My! (The Snarky Blonde Chick Remix)
Remix Author: Tracy
Original Story: Lilah’s Coffin by eleveninches
Summary: Smallville may often seem boring; but when something’s trying to kill you, it’s anything but.
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Smallville
Friday, November 2001, 8:32 pm
Yeah. I know. Life isn't exactly fair. Spare me the platitudes, okay? I'm tired, I'm hungry, there are a million bugs that are trying to bite every square inch of my body, and this audio equipment really sucks.
Journalists are supposed to suffer for their work. A good scoop never comes easy- you have to pound the pavement, butter up your sources, examine every possibility to get the absolute best story possible. That's what I'm after. The best story. There are a lot of other kids out there with ambition and newsprint in their veins, and if I want to become the Daily Planet's star reporter one day, I've got to do something that makes them notice them me.
And that's why I'm sitting in my favorite pair of jeans, outside a rundown shack the city of Smallville forgot, with my Dad's stereo headphones plugged into the audio equipment I borrowed from my friend, Chad.
More than anything, I'm mad. Mad that I'm not the one in the midst of this story. But I can't be the inside one on this job; I'm not welcome in the he-man woman haters' club simply because I'm a girl. So I'm recording this event for posterity, while Clark is inside, attending his first keg party. Chloe Sullivan, a wallflower/AV nerd, stuck on the outside at one of the most exclusive and secretive parties of the year.
I wonder if Clark even knows what a keg is. He tends to be...a bit dumb at times. Clark is sweet, and often well-meaning, not to mention as hot as hell, but the boy is dumb. And no matter how many times he does really stupid things, like moon over Lana Lang (who barely knows that Clark's alive), he's still the boy whose name I doodle mindlessly on the back of my notebooks. And then I cross the doodles out, because Clark doesn't even know I have boobs. He's stupid like that. Ignorant of everything that doesn't involve Smallville's very own fairy princess.
Pete gave me a tip that the football team has interesting parties in this abandoned shack. He was going to help originally, but then the doofus came down with strep throat. Honestly, I don't think he wants the team to blame him for instigating the scandal that will hit when the Torch publishes an account of the town's good old boys getting drunk. I can't blame him. I really can't give a shit about these jockstraps since they decided to make Clark's this year's scarecrow. In fact, it's a bit of sweet revenge. Behold the power of the press, jockstraps. At least, those of you who can read.
So far all I've recorded is idle talk. Where's the chugging and the weird rituals that Pete was blabbing about? So far, a "very special episode" of the Golden Girls is more dramatic.
Aww. Whitney Fordman just called Clark one of the guys. I giggle as the star quarterback's voice sounds over my headphones. He must be playing nice to Clark to get back on Lana's good side. Lana Lang has been mooning around like a wounded cow since the truth about this year's scarecrow came out-you would have thought that she was the one wrapped to a pole in the middle of a cornfield clad only in her underwear.
Hey. That idea has merit. At least then, her self-centered whining would have a purpose.
"I have homework to do," Clark whines. "I can't stay long."
Careful, Clark. You're sounding whinier than little Anakin Skywalker in Episode I.
"You're such a waste of beer, Kent."
Yes! Whitney mentioned beer! A direct quote! I can't help but feel giddy.
"Dudes, it's time to start!" a muffled voice announces.
"Time to begin what?" Clark asks. I have to admit, I'm curious too.
"The sacrifice to the football gods," the muffled voice answers. "Duh."
What? Ritual Animal Sacrifice? Screw the Torch, I might be able to take this story all the way to the Planet. If only I'd brought my camera. But no, I told myself it would be too conspicuous. Damn it.
"Bring me the goat!" the leader's voice booms.
A goat? There's a goat in that shack? I didn't see a goat come in, and I haven't heard one over the wire? They're going to kill a goat! That's just...wrong on so many levels. I should do something, I should call someone, but who? The sheriff? The ASPCA? Captain Planet? I take the headphones off for a second, and reach for my cell phone. I have to do something...I don't want an innocent goat to die when I could have saved it...
I don't have time to do anything, because all of a sudden there's a loud bleating sound of a goat, and it just stops suddenly. All I want to do is throw up.
I don't think I'll ever eat meat again.
Or food again.
Ever.
Now I'm glad that Clark's the inside man on this job, and I'm just listening. The audio was too much for me, I definitely don't need the visual.
"Osh! Swaki!" The leader yells.
"What does that mean?" Clark whispers to Whitney.
"I don't know -- I don't take French."
Um, jockstrap? That's not French. I don't know what it is, but that's not French.
"You, the newcomer, have to perform the sacred rites!"
Oooh. Who's the newcomer?
"No thanks. I just ate," Clark struggles to reply.
Clark is the newcomer! I'm never going to let him live this down. Thank you, Memorex!
"Don't disappoint me, Kent," Whitney warns him.
"Don't think I haven't forgotten you're after my girl."
Damn.
And then I hear shuffling, like Clark's moving. And then he's yelling at the top of his voice, "Osh, Swahili".
"You said it wrong!" I mutter.
They're going to skin him alive. My dorky best friend will be the second sacrifice to the football gods tonight.
And they yell at him, but surprisingly, I don't hear the sounds of Clark getting a pretty good ass kicking. Instead, the leader's voice sounds again, loud this time.
"Now you have to stomp on the floor three times, in order to apologize for your blasphemy."
And he stomps, and man, the boy stomps loud.
"That's no way to kill roaches, Clark." I sigh. The boy knows nothing of subtlety. There's just so many little things about being human that Clark just doesn't get that you'd almost think the boy was a space alien.
"You suck!" someone in the crowd calls out.
Uh yeah. Tell me something I don't know.
"Did you see that?" Clark asks, and he sounds genuinely panicked.
"What?" Whitney mutters.
Why didn't I pull a Twelfth Night and pretend to be a transfer student, or something? Not being able to see this is killing me.
"He broke our party house. You're going to pay, geek."
"Danger, Will Robinson," I mutter. What was I thinking, sending Clark in there on his own? He can't even cover the cafeteria menu without my help. He's going to die in there, or at least get seriously maimed, and it's going to be entirely my fault.
"Stop, I'm serious," he cries. "This isn't--"
And then I hear banging and creaking and yelling, and I throw the headphones to the ground. I cover the receiving unit with my notebook, and start to jog towards the cabin. Clark needs me, even if I am a girl.
Buffy's a girl, and she manages to save the day every Tuesday. So why in the hell can't I?
A crowd of terrified football players rushes past me; they don't even notice me.
Shit, something's definitely rotten in Denmark.
When I reach the door, Whitney's standing in the middle of the room, or as close to the middle as he can be on the intact floor, yelling to his teammates. "Where are you going? You chickens! It's probably just some rat or some---" Whitney's words cut off abruptly.
More of the floor caves in, and I see two chalky white hands sticking up in the air.
"Thing," Whitney finishes weakly. He steps back with a look of horror on his face.
Something starts to rise from the depths. Whitney continues to inch back towards the door, and Clark is right beside him.
"Come on!" I cry. Now is the time for serious running and fleeing, not for creeping away from whatever this thing is. Clark looks up and sees me, and bounds towards me, dragging Whitney by the collar.
I can tell now that the thing is, or used to be, a woman. Tattered fragments of fabric cling to her form; at one time it must have been a white dress. Her skin is caked with mud, and her arms look more like fragile tree branches than living flesh.
She turns towards us, and her dried, brown lips lift up into a smile.
I've never been so scared in my life.
"Holy shit!" Whitney cries.
Suddenly, she propels herself towards Whitney, before any of us can move. She pulls him away from Clark's grip, and Whitney shrieks as he falls to the ground. The woman wraps her arms around his shoulders tightly. Clark reaches to pull her off of Whitney; but as she does so, she bites down hard on Whitney's neck.
Okay, we're in definite need of Buffy right now. Or holy water, or wooden stakes, or the family of demon hunters somebody on one of my message boards online was talking about...
"Dude," Whitney whimpers. "She's nibbling on me. Get her off."
Clark looks at me, as if to ask me what to do.
I shrug. "Help him!"
Clark leans over and takes her by the shoulder, lifting her up. She snarls at him when he wraps one of his large hands around her neck. I can see that her teeth are filed down. Her eyes are yellowed, hazy, and not entirely sane.
"Maybe she's a vampire," I say nervously, playing with the hem on my jacket. "She went right for your neck, and that's what they do on TV."
The woman nips at Clark's face.
"Bitch, please," I say, growling at her. "If anyone's biting on Clark, it's gonna be me."
Clark blushes, and Whitney sneers. "Way to go, Kent, you raised the dead!"
"Oops," Clark says.
Sometimes I think my best friend is too stupid to live.
This is definitely one of those times.
Because we have no idea what in the hell to do- no worst-case scenario handbook covers this- we decide to march our vampire to the police station. They should know what to do. Or at least they'd have access to crossbows. Or garlic.
We're halfway there when Clark trips.
Vampira wiggles out of his grip, and Whitney and I struggle to catch her, but she takes off down the street, cackling.
Whitney looks at us and shakes his head. "I am so embarrassed."
"Me too." I sigh.
Clark presses his head against the pavement, lightly banging it on the asphalt.
I wonder if we're going to survive the night.
It is just after nine-thirty when Whitney drops us off at the Kent farm. Whitney pulls his father's truck as close to the porch as physically possible.
"Get out." He growls, shoving Clark roughly in the arm.
"Hey." I'm not going to sit back and watch Whitney beat Clark up. "I know you've been through the gauntlet tonight, but that doesn't give you an excuse to be a jerk."
"We need to stay together," Clark insists. "She's on the loose, and she might come after us--"
"No, you're the one who messed up the spell. She's your problem, freak."
With a frustrated sigh, Clark leans his head back on the seat. "You can't guarantee that," he said.
"Yeah," Whitney growls, "I can. I'm not dying in Smallville. I'm getting the hell out of here. So, Kent, hurry up and get your ass out of my car."
Clark looks at me for a second. "Take Chloe with you."
"Sure," Whitney says. "My dad would kill me if I left a lady in distress."
"What?" I exclaim. "No way, Clark. I'm like the queen of weird, and there is no way that I'm going to miss the weirdest thing to ever happen in Smallville."
"Chloe. If you go with Whitney, you'll be safe."
"I'm not going with Whitney, so it doesn't matter." I get out of the car. "You know absolutely nothing about fighting things that go bump in the night, Clark. You've never watched Dark Shadows, The X-Files, Buffy Angel or even Charmed, and trust me, I'm an expert at all of those. Face it, Kent. You. Need. Me." I turn back to the truck. "Godspeed, Whitney. And good luck explaining the vampire hickey to Lana."
"Whatever." Whitney shrugs before he drives away.
"You're stupid, Chloe," Clark says, glaring at me. "Really, really, stupid."
"Pot kettle black, Clark," I shrug with a laugh. "You're glad that I stayed. Admit it."
"So what if I am?"
"What do we do now?" I sigh. The banter is kind of fun, but we won't exactly be able to slay Drusilla with our wittiness. "Do you have any stakes?"
Clark looks at me strangely. "I think Mom has a couple in the fridge."
"Wooden stakes, Clark," I roll my eyes. "If we get out of this alive, remind me to forget you ever said something that stupid."
"I don't know. Maybe in the barn."
"Your Mom may have garlic in the kitchen though. But I don't have any idea where we'd get Holy Water, or a crossbow...and it's a little early for sunlight, and that only works in some mythologies..."
"We should call Lex."
"Lex?"
"Chloe, you know more about vampires than I'll ever know. But even you don't know everything. And Lex is smart. He's been to college."
"Clark, that makes no sense. What do you think Lex majored in Underworld Ass Kicking?"
"Do you have any better ideas?"
"I read about this family on the web, they travel from town to town hunting down demons and other stuff...They're supposed to be really awesome and hunting down this kind of stuff. I don't have their phone number or anything, but one of my online friends should know how to contact them..."
"Chloe, I'm not putting our lives in the hands of a family that may or may not be an urban legend."
I give up. "Fine, call Lex."
We go inside the Kent house- the strangely empty Kent house- Martha and Jonathan must be out for the night. Clark pulls a number out of his wallet and dials the phone.
"Lex? Hi, it's um, Clark Kent," He stammers. "I'm sorry to interrupt, I know it's a Friday night, and..." There's a slight pause. "I did something I shouldn't have, and I was sort of wondering if you could help me figure out what to do...it's kind of bad." Clark shrugs, looking at me to supply him with the words.
"You're on your own," I whisper. Let him swim or sink with Luthor on his own.
"More like raising-the-dead-and-unleashing-evil-upon-Smallville bad." Clark stammers.
Clark's face blanches white, and he slams the phone down.
"Come on." He says, grabbing my hand. "Our vampire is at Lex's house."
Shit.
We speed through the back roads of Smallville at a breakneck pace. Clark barely pauses to park the truck, and before I know it, he's pulling on my arm, yanking me into the Luthor mansion. Things go by so quickly that everything is a blur.
Before I know it, we're in what I guess is Lex's study, and the young Mr. Luthor is lying on the floor by his desk, his arms and legs akimbo. A window above him had been smashed, and our lovely lady of the night is kneeling at Lex's side, giving his neck the Hoover treatment.
"Lex!" Clark cries out, and he stands perfectly still. Oh great. He's in shock. You think the scene with Whitney would have prepared Clark for this, but no. Clark always wears the weight of the world on his shoulders. And if anywhere, right now, he should be wearing the weight of the world around his feet. Big clodhoppers.
Lex cranes his head slightly. "Clark," He says through gritted teeth. "I seem to have acquired a new friend. She's sucking on my neck. It's a little uncomfortable."
"Uh, duh." I say.
The shock wears off, and Clark rips into motion, tearing the vampire from Lex. She swipes at Clark's face, but somehow he manages to dodge her nails. She arches over and aims for his neck, but there's no way in hell I'm going to let that fly. I pick up a large hardbound book off of Lex's desk and whack at her, sending her sailing through the air with a shriek. She hits the wall and lands somewhere behind the desk.
"The pen is mightier than the sword, indeed," Lex says as he rises to his feet. "That was quite impressive...Miss..."
"Sullivan." I say with my best smile. "Chloe Sullivan. My Dad works at the plant."
"I'll have to look into giving him a raise," Lex says.
"I..." I see our bloodsucker rise up behind Lex. "Uh oh...the bitch is back." I groan.
She doesn't go for the jugular again; instead she starts to massage Lex's bald head.
"What in the hell is she doing?" Lex's voice has a definite edge of panic to it.
"She's um...waxing your head." I shrug.
"Why?" He cries.
"It's um...shiny?" Clark guesses.
Lex and I shoot him synchronized horrified looks.
"Or you know...not."
"This is not helping." Lex groans.
"Chloe, grab a hold of Lex," Clark orders me. "Try to pull him away."
I have to say that I have had to do many more uncomfortable and terrible things in my life than wrap my arms around the midsection of a sexy young billionaire. And so I was happy to oblige, even though I had absolutely no idea what Clark was up to.
Clark runs towards the vampire and tackles her like a tackling dummy. He pushes her through the air, through one of the stained glass windows. Her loud scream grows more distant as she goes down, and then finally, it stops.
"Is it over?" I ask. What? It's hard to see when you're lying on the floor underneath a billionaire.
What?
It totally is.
"What in the hell was that?" Lex sits up abruptly, lifting a hand to help me get up. "You okay, Chloe?"
"I'm okay," I say softly. "Been through a lot worse than this."
Clark's peering out the window. "I think she's gone," he announces, turning back towards us.
"You still haven't answered my question," Lex says, walking over to the window and standing beside Clark. "What's going on?"
"She was a vampire. I think." Clark says softly.
Lex frowns. "That wasn't a vampire, Clark; she didn't penetrate the skin. A more plausible explanation would be she just thinks she is. And, in case you haven't noticed, vampires don't exist. They're folklore."
Clark winces. "We have a problem in Smallville."
"With mutants. And all sorts of weird things. I have a whole database, a catalogue of all these crazy occurrences and events since the meteor shower years ago."
Lex's neck bore bright red marks, which kind of looked like large hickeys. Clark and I are both staring at them...and yeah...it's a little embarrassing. I haven't had, to be honest, much experience with hickeys, and I know Clark hasn't either.
Clark shuffles his feet, and I speak up. It doesn't take a man of steel to tell the strange but awkward truth- it takes a woman.
"We were trying to get a story. For the Torch- the Smallville High newspaper? Our friend Pete told us about these really crazy parties that the football team has at this old abandoned house out in the woods. They call it Lilah's fort, because they say a crazy hermit died out there during the meteor shower. They never found her body."
"Let me guess," Lex drawls. "Lilah was the one who attacked me."
"They started doing this ritual during the party," Clark explains. "They were making a sacrifice. When it was my turn, I kind of, er, broke through the floorboards. The vampire came out from beneath it."
"They were making a sacrifice," Lex repeats incredulously.
"To the football gods," Clark clarifies in a weak voice.
Lex's eyes widen, and I can't tell if he is amused or horrified. "Faux vampires and crazy football teams," Lex says tightly. " Quite a strange place, Smallville."
Clark smiles crookedly. "I've seen weirder."
Saturday, 10:07 am
Lex insisted that we both spend the night. He called our parents, explained the crazy circumstances; and I can't say that I minded the long, luxurious bubble bath in the gigantic bath tub, the purple silk pajamas Lex insisted I take home with me, or the gourmet breakfast we were served in the morning.
The morning revealed that Clark had forgotten to put the car in park when he got to the mansion- apparently he'd put it in neutral instead, and it was now crashed into a tree on the border of the property. Lex offered to get it repaired and pay for the repairs- he owed us, he said, and offered us a ride home in one of his sports cars.
I could get used to this way of life.
And then, halfway back to the Kent's house, Lex's car breaks down, smack dab in the middle of the road, where nothing but miles of wooded area and an insanely bright sky surround us.
Lex and Clark had gotten out of the car to see what the problem was, and I was trying to reach the auto club on my cell phone, when something large and bovine drops out of the sky onto the car.
With me still inside.
I struggle to get out of the car, and manage to wriggle towards the now somewhat less smashed edge of the car, and I crane my arms through the window, not minding the broken glass.
I was just attacked by an unidentified flying cow.
I need therapy. And chocolate. And sedatives so I don't dream about flying cows for the rest of my life.
Lex and Clark rush to the car and help me get out- Lex holds on to me as Clark pulls the metal away from me.
"Are you okay?" Lex asks, lifting me into a fireman's carry.
"I think..."
He lowers me to the ground, and I cry out in pain. My left ankle throbs with pain. I scream, and Lex lifts me back up into his arms.
"I'm taking you to see a doctor." He says softly. "And paying."
"You're hurt?" Clark rushes to my side, and his sad little face looks just like a wounded little puppy.
Damn it, the boy is cute.
Hell, if I've got to be hurt, being craned in the arms of a billionaire with the boy I've loved for forever fawning over me isn't a bad way to be hurt. I'm almost enjoying it!
The cow on Lex's car lets out a weak moo before rolling off the side of the car.
"I'm really beginning to hate this town," Lex declares, and I can't help but giggle.
"I've heard of it raining cats and dogs," I laugh. "But never cows."
"Yeah. This is definitely wall of weird material," Clark smiles. "First a vampire..."
"Who liked me..." Lex laughs, "Right?"
"She was looking at you like a teenybopper at the MTV Music Video awards." I nod.
My laughter dies down when something hits me. "Meteor rocks wouldn't make a cow fly, would they?"
"I wouldn't think so." Clark replies.
"But she managed to get into your study, Lex...which is several stories off of the ground. Which means she would have to..."
"Fly," Lex finishes my statement, and we all spin around to see our neck-nibbling foe.
The vampire is sitting on the remains of Lex's car.
"Whoa!" Lex exclaims, and he lowers me to the ground quickly.
Her yellow eyes are fevered as she crawls towards us slowly, staring hard at Lex. Clark swerves quickly, throwing Lex hard against the door, but she just inches closer.
The good thing about living in a small town is that nowhere is too far away. I crane my neck and see the peak of a familiar house not too far away. I stagger to my feet and fight through the pain.
"Yo, Neck Nibbler." I shout. "Come and get me." And I start to run towards Lilah's fort, where this whole crazy adventure began.
Even injured, I run faster than a vampire. Still, Clark easily overtakes me and picks me up. "Chloe, what in the hell are you doing?"
"Saving your ass!" I mutter.
Lex is running behind us. "What are we doing?" He yells, and Clark slows down for a second, linking his arm through Lex's.
"This was Chloe's idea."
"Well, forgive me if I'm not following." Lex huffs.
"When we get to the cabin, stand in front of the entrance." I direct him.
"You're kidding."
"Do you have a better idea?"
"No...but..."
"Lex," I sigh. "Just trust me."
I'll tell you, Clark should really consider joining the track team, because we got to Lilah's fort in no time. Clark deposited me, ironically, not too far from my perch the previous night. My recording equipment is right where I left it- or should I say, the remains of my recording equipment. The jockstraps had apparently ran it over with their cars the night before.
Oh, great. Chad is going to kill me. If, you know, I live through this.
Lex runs to the empty doorway, and stands there with his hands on his hips. "Oh look. She's here." He shouts nervously. "Now would be a good time for that plan, Sullivan."
"Yeah," Clark whispers from his crouch beside me. "What exactly is the plan?"
"Get her back to her house and destroy the house."
"Oh," Clark says, nodding. A second later, he's frowning. "But how in the hell do I do that?"
"Go get my car. Drive it into the house."
"Won't that damage the car?" Clark frowns.
"Think, McFly. Cosmetic car damage or death?" I reach in my pocket and grab my car keys and toss them to Clark. "Here. Go."
"You're coming with me." Clark picks me back up and places me in the passenger's seat of my own car. And then he puts the keys into the ignition, and we are speeding towards the house.
Lex yelps. "What in the hell?"
As we get close, I open the door and yank Lex inside.
"You saved my life."
"Yeah," I smile. "And you can tell my dad that when he sees the remains of my car."
"The remains of your car? What are you talking about?"
"This!" Clark exclaims, as he whips my car around and drives it into Lilah's fort.
I don't think I'm ever going to ride in a car again. Not after having a cow and a house come down on me when I'm riding in one.
I'll have to buy a new bike. Or maybe get a horse. If only I had a clue on how to ride a horse.
We scream as the house falls down around us, but somehow, we drive through the house, and we're all alive.
Now I know how Stephanie Tanner felt when she drove the car into the kitchen on Full House.
We all stop and stare at each other.
"Everybody okay?" Lex asks, and Clark and I nod.
The world is blissfully silent, Lilah's heavy breathing is not to be heard.
"I don't think we have to worry about Lilah anymore," Clark says, and we all laugh.
My car still runs well enough to get us into town. I want to go home, but Lex and Clark insist on taking me to the hospital. I have a severely sprained ankle; and they're keeping me overnight. I'll use crutches for a while, but I'll be okay.
Clark and Lex are at my door at the same time, each holding a bunch of flowers.
Having two guys standing at your door with flowers is almost worth getting crushed in a car by a falling cow and chased by a psycho vampire mutant.
I smile, and they walk in the door, and Lex is on the right side of my bed, while Clark walks around to the right. Before they give me the flowers, they each give me a kiss on the cheek.
Now that was definitely worth almost getting crushed by a falling cow and chased by a psycho vampire mutant.
"Thanks guys," I know I'm blushing, but I don't mind.
"Can I use your phone?" Clark asks, and I shoot him a look.
"Sure..."
I kind of like it when Clark fawns over me. He should do it more.
"Hi? Whitney?" Clark says with a smile. "It's Clark. I've got good news...and bad news." Clark pauses slightly. "The good news is that we don't have to worry about the vampire anymore...and the bad is that Lilah's shack...is no more."
"It is an ex-shack," I say, and Lex catches my reference and laughs.
"Well, the team will have to find someplace else." Clark hung up the phone.
"And so Clark Kent kisses his daring party habit goodbye, as he becomes but yet another hopeless dork in the pantheon of Smallville High."
"I'm just sorry that you won't get your story," Clark sighs. "It's like we went through all of this for nothing. The tape is gone, the shack's gone...any evidence of this is just...gone. "
"I don't know if anyone would buy the whole vampire angle, Clark. It's okay. I'll think of something to fill the front page. I always do." I smile valiantly.
"I think I have the perfect story for you,' Lex says with a smile. "It's quite a story when a billionaire's car is destroyed by a flying cow, wouldn't you say?"
"You'd go on the record?"
"For the Torch? For you?" Lex smiles at me. "This once, at least."
The story of the cow is more my speed than animal sacrifice, anyway. Plus, the Luthor name adds a certain mystique and prestige to everything...how can I turn down such a nice offer?
"Thanks, Lex." I beam. Then I turn to Clark. "You know, this is all your fault."
"You're never going to let me live this down, are you?"
"Hey, I wasn't the one who displeased the football gods."
***
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