This is honestly something that's been sitting on my computer collecting dust for years. I don't know how active the Smallville fandom is these days, but I figured it couldn't hurt to toss this out there just so I feel like I did something with this. And, yeah, it was going to be a Lex centric fic.

(Why do I love AUs so much? Or alt. dimension fics for that matter? *sigh*)

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Peyton did not usually dream. Her sleep was usually peaceful and quiet; nothingness. So, when she went to bed that night she expected just that, nothing. But it felt like just when she was drifting off she was once again wide awake. Looking around, she tried to place where she was. She was in a busy city in the middle of the day, everything seemed so big and it was loud. Her breath caught in her lungs and she stopped moving. She had been walking? A tug pulled at her hand and she looked up to see a person pause above her. She wasn't that short, was she?

"Come on, Peyton, we don't have all day."

"What?"

The woman sighed. Her heels made her even taller than she already was and Peyton didn't even come above her black pencil skirt.

"I don't have time for your daydreaming right now. We have to go, hun."

Peyton continued out of shock, her hand clasped in the mystery woman's, and she craned her head to try and find any clue of where she was. They were marching down a busy district strip and Peyton peered into the reflective glass to try and figure out why she was so short and in the care of an amazon woman. Her eyes met her own and she screamed.

She was a child. Her eyes and head where a bit larger in proportion to her body, her fingers stubby, and her hair was in a high pony with a large bow. She was a child.

"What? What's wrong, Peyton? What's gotten into you?"

Peyton stared up at the woman with wide eyes and tried to think. How could this happen? Where was she? Who was this woman?

"I-I..."

The woman was giving her an exasperated look that a child might not have picked up on. Peyton tested a theory.

"...Mom?"

"Yes, dear."

Oh gosh. Peyton's hands suddenly felt clammy and she wondered if the woman would notice it too. This was not right, nothing about this was-

Oh. Oh.

This was a dream! Peyton suddenly felt her muscles relax and she let the breath she'd been keeping. Of course! She'd just gone to bed before this. What a relief! Though, of all the dreams she could remember having this was for sure the strangest.

A smile broke out on her small face. Her teeth felt short and round.

"Never mind!"

The woman rolled her eyes and sighed deep in her throat then continued to pull her along.

"Come on then. You're going to make me late."

Peyton tried to enjoy her dream. She really did. But it was the most boring dream. Everything was in real time, it seemed, and nothing weird or exiting was happening. She couldn't even will anything to happen and it was her dream!

The woman instead led her to a massive building with a name at the top that Peyton couldn't quite make out. Wherever they were, it seemed as if the woman was there often since many people knew her. The receptionist greeted her, the elevator operator seemed to recognize her, and when they got to their destined floor, the people there nodded in acknowledgement. Peyton was just going to assume that the woman worked there until something proved her wrong. Quickly enough they reached a door that the woman pushed her through and then went to leave again.

"You remember what we talked about, don't you," the woman said. "You be good and I'll just be right back, okay? Stay in here." And then she was gone.

Peyton scowled. This was the worst dream ever! She was a child, it was dull, and now she had been dropped off at some businesswoman's version of daycare? No way. She was out of here. Maybe she'd test out if she could fly or something. She walked back over to the door and reached up on her tip toes to try and reach the handle.

"What are you doing?"

Peyton jumped at the new voice and whirled around. There was a boy in the room with her. He looked down at her by the door in disapproval from his seat in one of the office chairs.

"Your mom just told you to stay here," he said.

Peyton was not going to be bossed around by a little redhead boy that was barely older than her dream self.

"Yeah, well, I don't want to stay here," she said. "It's dull."

The little boy raised an eyebrow at her in a move that seemed older than his years.

"Well, you have to," he said. "You're too little to go out by yourself."

Peyton laughed and it came out high pitched and giggly, she stopped abruptly.

"Oh, believe me, I'm really not."

She turned back around to try opening the door again when his voice drifted over to her.

"If you're bored, you could...you could play with me."

It caused her to freeze. The voice, dream or not, sounded too...sad. It sounded like a lonely little boy, and she realized that whatever fake latch-key kid life she'd dreamed up, this boy had it too. But he was a dream! He wasn't real! She would not turn around and waste a rare dream with entertaining a little boy.

"But you don't have to."

She turned around. His face was turned away from her and focused on some superhero action figure he had. Peyton felt her heart break a little for this dream kid and shook her head. Letting out a quiet moan, she trudged over to the large meeting table and did her best to climb into a chair.

"I'll play with you, kid," she said. "Don't be so sad."

The little boy looked up eagerly and grinned at her.

"Really? Awesome!"

Peyton smiled softly and held out her hand.

"My name is Peyton," she said. "Peyton Woods."

The boy put his hand in hers and they shook.

"Lex Luthor."

"Ok then, Lex. What are we playing?"

Lex waved his action figure at her and looked elated.

"We can play Warrior Angel! I can be Warrior Angel and you can be the person he has to save."

Peyton had babysat a lot throughout high school and was prepared for this.

"Sure. Who kidnapped me?"

Lex rolled his eyes a bit.

"Devilicus. His arch nemesis."

Peyton used crawling on top of the table to distract herself from laughing at the young boy's indigence. Once on top the table she sat and crossed her short legs and did her best to appear terrified.

"Help! Help! I've been kidnapped by Devilicious!"

"Devil-ICUS!"

"Help me, Warrior Angel!"

Lex hopped out of his chair, tied his suit coat around his neck, and stood very majestically.

"I'm on my way!"

And so, Peyton spent the majority of her time in the room playing various games with Lex where he was the superhero, and her the damsel in distress. Usually she would protest at always being a victim, but it was a dream and the kid seemed like he needed to feel heroic about something.

Speaking of dreams, this one was lasting way too long. Not that she had a lot of experience with having dreams, but this was just ridiculous. They'd been in the meeting room for an hour now and she'd felt every minute of it. An uneasy feeling was seeping into her stomach. Of the dreams she could remember, she couldn't recall ever having such clarity or sensory. She tried pinching herself, but didn't wake up.

Lex was back to sitting in a swivel office chair and spinning it around with his tiny legs. They were taking a break from running around the room, but Lex seemed to be deep in thought.

"What are you thinking about," Peyton asked just to distract herself. She couldn't consider the possibility of this being real.

Lex seemed only slightly hesitant to answer. He moved the limbs of his Warrior Angel doll back and forth for a bit without answering.

"I was thinking that maybe, um, maybe, if you had fun with me, we could be...friends."

Peyton felt her heart break a little bit.

"You want to be friends with me?"

Lex nodded.

"Yeah. You're nice."

Could she really dream up something so sad as his little rejected voice? Why would she torture herself like that? She gave him as encouraging of a smile as she could in this tiny body.

"I'd love to be your friend," she said.

Lex looked up at her and beamed. It was worth an hour of playing superhero with an eight year old just to see that happy face.

"Cool!"

The door to the room suddenly opened and the woman who was supposed to be her mother and another man stood outside it.

"Come on, Peyton. Time to leave. Let's go."

But she was distracted by Lex's change in demeanor. The smiling face he wore was suddenly replaced with a solemn mask and his eyes were guarded.

"Lex."

He got out of his chair quietly at the man's one word and slowly made his way for the door.

"Is that your dad," Peyton asked. She figured it must be, but why would he seem so afraid of the man? She didn't want to think why he might be.

"Yes."

"Peyton, come on dear. Time to go."

She climbed down out of the chair and joined the group at the door. It ate at her to think that this little boy would be leaving with a father he obviously feared.

"Hey," she said. "I had a lot of fun playing with you, Lex. I can't wait to be best friends."

The smile he gave her was enough to quiet any questions she had about why she felt the need to speak out for a dream kid.

"Bye," was all he said back.

When she grasped the offered hand of her dream mom, she noticed a certain glint in the woman's eyes.

"So," the lady said. "Did you have fun with Lex, then?"

Peyton eyed the woman suspiciously, but nodded.

"Yeah. I did."

"Good. That's good, hun."

They were already back outside the building and Peyton was beginning to wonder if this dream would ever end. This wasn't normal. It was too consistent. Too real.

And then she blinked and she was in her bed.

Peyton jumped out of bed and ran to the mirror hanging on the back of her door. Her hands reached up to feel her face and ran down her body.

She was herself again. She was twenty-four, and a woman with breasts, and she was home.

Thank the lord. It was just a dream. But the word felt sour when she thought it. Whatever had just happened wasn't normal. It couldn't have been. She remembered everything that had occurred with a startling clarity. The clock on her nightstand read 1:30pm and she gasped. It may have been the weekend, but she never slept in that late! She was a morning person if there ever was one.

Throwing on some clothes, she burst out of her room and into the kitchen where her roommate sat at the table.

"Clara, why didn't you wake me up sooner?"

Clara looked up from her book and raised an eyebrow at her friend.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know I was your personal alarm clock."

Peyton sighed and joined her at the table. Her fingertips wove into her hair as she tried to settle down.

"I'm sorry, Clar. I just had a really weird dream and slept in so late. I'm having a weird day and I just woke up."

Clara shrugged off her apology and went back to her book.

"I just thought you were sick or something. What kind of dream? You told me you never have any."

"Ugh. You don't want to know. Believe me."

Getting back up she moved into the kitchen to fix herself something to eat. She was starving. Clara was already back into the world of her book and had probably forgotten their conversation. It was just her way. Clara and her had been friends for awhile and they'd grown accustomed to each other's habits. Peyton considered her the sister that she'd never had.

After making herself a sandwich, she sat back down and glanced amusedly at Clara. She was seriously involved in some story. Peyton tipped the book up to read the cover and grinned when she saw what it was.

The Hobbit, she thought. Again.

But she didn't sit for long, seeing as how she'd wasted half of her day. With her teeth quickly brushed and hair pulled up, without a bow, she left the small apartment and head out into the street. There were errands she needed to run before the weekend was over.

That night she didn't dream, as usual. And she was relieved. Mostly. Part of her was curious about the little dream boy, Lex, and what she possibly could have eaten before bed to imagine him up.

But it didn't matter. Hopefully the crazy long dream was a one time thing. Most likely it was. Definitely.

The next day went by quickly and it was already evening with work looming on the horizon. All Peyton could think about was the coming work day and what it would entail. There was sure to be loads of filing to get done. The firm she worked for had just bought out another company and was busy making the transition of employees and clients. Peyton just couldn't wait to get to work and face everyone's shining attitudes.

Right before bed, she set her alarm and turned up the volumed a bit just in case. She was getting to bed at a decent time for once and shut her eyes, ready for some rest.

She opened them up again in a different room.

"Crimeny."

She found herself in some sort of posh room. There was wood paneling everywhere and an ornate fireplace on one wall. Peyton noticed, once again, that everything seemed larger than it should have and ran over to check in a mirror. Yes, a child once again. She only looked marginally older than the last time. She was missing one front tooth. Rubbing her hands over her face, she tried to collect herself. Not again! Peyton noticed she was wearing what looked like a school uniform and decided she was not going to cooperate with the dream this time. She was going to take control.

"I'm an adult," she said. She tried to will herself older. "I am a grown woman!"

"Peyton?"

Another small girl was standing in the doorway and looking at her oddly. She was probably the same age and wearing the same outfit.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing, nothing. What is it?"

The girl seemed to quickly shake off whatever she'd seen at the idea of sharing some tidbit of information. Her face lit up and she whispered conspiratorially.

"Haven't you heard? Alexander Luthor is back!"

Peyton furrowed her brow before she finally realized who the girl was talking about.

"Do you mean Lex?"

"Yes," the girl said. "And guess what!"

Peyton did not know and told the girl quite frankly. She really didn't have time to waste on something as stupid as gossip. She was still starting to get the dreading suspicion that maybe this wasn't a dream after all. Or maybe she was losing it. But she had no way to test out either hypothesis.

"Well, he's bald!"

Peyton was not impressed. She scowled at the other girl and remembered why she wasn't so fond of children.

"So what. He got a different haircut."

"No!" The girl protested as if she just didn't have all the relevant information. "He was in an accident with space rocks. Um, meteorites! Now his hair won't grow. Everyone says he's a freak."

"Excuse me?" Peyton took several steps towards the girl that almost had her skittering off. "Is he ok? A little boy gets into an accident and all you can talk about is him having no hair? Where is he now, you little brat?"

The girl looked shocked from her outburst. Her body language had slumped and she glared at Peyton with a certain loathing.

"Why are you talking weird," she asked. "Lex is older than you."

"Where is he?"

The little girl turned up her nose as if she wasn't going to answer, but another menacing step forward from Peyton had her relenting.

"He's probably in his room. He stays there a lot because-"

"Take me there."

At the girl's appalled face and refusal, because it was the boy's side, Peyton assured the girl that she didn't care and would take the blame if they were caught. It didn't really matter to her.

So she followed the girl out of the fireplace room and down a hall towards some stairs. The girl had decided not to speak with her anymore, apparently. Peyton was relieved.

"This one."

The girl gave a pouty gesture at the door and immediately turned back to leave.

"But just so you know," she said. Peyton waited expectedly for her final words.

"What?"

"I'm not sure we can be friends anymore." Peyton grinned.

"Well, good. Because I know I'd never want to be friends with a person who is mean to others for no reason."

The girl gasped in shock and Peyton watched gleefully as she ran down the hallway. This maybe-dream was definitely more interesting so far than the last. Turning back to the door she considered it thoughtfully. It was ornate and wooden with a sturdy handle. When she rapped her knuckles against it lightly it did not sound hollow. This whole place screamed money.

"Go away."

It was Lex, she had no doubt. That sad, rejected voice was back and she felt deflated from her confrontation with the little girl.

"Hey. It's me, Peyton. I heard you were back."

"Peyton?"

"Yeah. Can you open the door?"

It was silent on the other side of the door for a bit.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because when you see me, you won't want to be friends anymore."

Peyton's considerably younger forehead rested against the door and she let out a breath.

"That's a silly idea and you know it, Lex. You could look like Devilicious himself and I'd still be your friend."

It was quiet, and then the door swung open and Peyton had to catch herself from falling in the room.

"It's Devil-ICUS. Why can you never get that right?"

And he was bald. Entirely. As if he shaved diligently every day. But he was still a young boy. One that had lived through something probably terrifying, and there was no reason for any of these kids to tease him for it.

Peyton gave him a lopsided grin.

"I don't know. Why can't you get that you're stuck with me as a friend forever?"

Lex just studied her face for a moment, as if he could find the truth written there, and Peyton watched as his posture finally relaxed. He lifted one brow and looked once again too mature for his age.

"You're weird," he said.

"And at your service." Peyton did a little bow and courtly hand wave before straightening and grinning. "So, what do you want to do today?"

She didn't have time to worry about this not being a dream. At least, not while she was entertaining a lonely little boy. They played knights and cops and Indiana Jones, and Peyton even made sure to be heroic once in while this time. Lex just seemed to drink it all up like a dehydrated survivor. It made Peyton really wonder if he had any other friends his age. She didn't think she really counted.

They were once again in a lull, with Peyton resting against the bed board, when she got up the courage to ask.

"Hey Lex."

The boy looked up at her from the book he'd procured.

"Who do you play with when I'm not around?"

He seemed puzzled by the question and held his book tighter.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," she started, "I've been gone a long time. Who do you play with when I'm gone?"

"You haven't been gone, it's school time," he said. "I have. And..." He blushed slightly and looked away from her. "And no one really likes to play with me but you."

Peyton felt her stomach rush down.

"Lex, we've only played that one other time. When we met in the office building. Are you telling me you haven't had any friends since then?"

This time he looked down at her not with sadness, but true confusion.

"What are you talking about? We see each other all the time. We both go to school here."

Peyton felt her skin run cold. Her maybe-dream was becoming too involved. She was not eight years old! She was a grown woman living with a roommate with a semi-fulfilling job. She had to test this-this maybe-dream. There had to be a way to know. How long had she even been here? Two hours?

"You're right, you're right," she said. "Just making sure you won't forget me."

"Never," he said. And Peyton somehow knew he really meant it.

But she didn't dwell long on it, because the way her heart was suddenly beating so fast had her distracted and short of breath. Her tiny, stubby fingers curled in and out of her fist. There had to be a way to know!

And then she spotted a tiny figurine on Lex's desk. It was a roman soldier, standing at the ready with sword drawn and shield up. She had an idea.

Crossing over to the desk, she began to rummage around his things. Some paper, letters, a book, more figurines.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

"Do you have a letter opener? Or a pin, or something?" She didn't look up from her blatant disregard for personal privacy. He was a kid. They didn't know about it.

"Um, in the drawer..."

She quickly pulled open the drawer and saw the letter opener lying on top and let out a little snort. What kind of pretentious private school even let children keep letter openers? They could do something stupid, like cut themselves.

In one quick motion, Peyton ran the letter opener across the flesh at the base of her thumb and watched the blood well up. It stung.

It stung and she was bleeding and she wasn't waking up.

Lex flew off of his bed and snatched the letter opener from her hands.

"What are you doing? Are you stupid? Why would you do that?"

And when she looked up at the boy, she could see behind his first layer of anger, there was a fearful concern.

"Listen," she explained. "I promise I wasn't trying to hurt myself. I just have to know something."

"Know what," he demanded.

Peyton tried to think of an explanation, but was coming up short. He wouldn't believe anything she told him.

"I just have to know if all this is...real. Maybe I'll explain someday."

And he looked angry at her. His small fist was curled around the handle of the letter opener and his fierce gaze was too intimidating for someone of his age. Peyton actually shifted on her feet a bit.

"My father says people who hurt themselves are weak," he said. "He says they might as well finish the job because if they can't handle living, then maybe they shouldn't."

Peyton bristled at his tone and words. What kind of father did this kid have?

"You listen and you listen close, Lex. Your father is wrong. People like that need help. They need to know that someone cares about them. What they're doing is wrong, yes, but that doesn't mean we abandon them. We love them, because that's what makes us human. And that wasn't what I was doing. I just... You wouldn't understand, ok? Just know that I would never do that."

Lex was leaning a bit away from her; his grip on the letter opener was slack. Peyton maintained eye contact as his gaze traveled all over her face again.

"Tell me," he said. "Tell me your secret. You can trust me. I promise."

Peyton deflated a bit more.

"It's, it's not a secret, per say."

She blinked. Her ceiling greeted her.

Her alarm was going off, loud and shrill. Peyton slammed the off switch and noted that it had been going off for about ten minutes. She rubbed her hand over her face and kneaded her forehead. Her palm came down too firmly and she flinched. Pulling down her hand she inspected her palm and sucked in a breath through her teeth.

There was a thin, shallow cut beneath her thumb. A tiny bit of blood had dried around the edges.

One breath, two, it wasn't enough. It was like her lungs couldn't hold enough. It was cold in her room, in her body. Her hands were trembling.

"Clar-"

It was hard to speak. The words were getting stuck in her swelling throat.

"Clara!"

She could hear her friend thump around the living room and then her footsteps as she rushed down the hall. The closer the footsteps got to her bedroom, the faster her heart beat. By the time the doorknob was turning, she was gasping for air.

"Peyton? Peyton!"

Her friend rushed over and tried to help support her sitting up. Her friends hands felt so hot through her pajamas.

"Peyton. You need to calm down, okay? Deep breaths. In through the nose and out through the mouth, can you do that for me?"

Peyton nodded as she tried to follow her friends instructions. Eventually, focusing on breathing worked and Clara backed up to give her some space. Peyton looked up at her friend and swallowed. She hadn't even been awake for half an hour and already she felt exhausted.

"What just happened?"

Clara went back to rubbing circles on her back.

"I think you just had a panic attack. You ever have that before?"

Peyton shook her head no. One more shuddering breath and her stomach felt normal again.

"Do you know what might have caused it? I mean, you just woke up."

She couldn't help but glance at her palm and wonder if she should admit she was going crazy. But Clara, as much of a sister as she was, wouldn't even believe her. It would just worry her, and she already dealt with enough with working the night shift at the hospital.

"I don't know," she said. "It might just be stress from work piling up. Maybe I'll just take today off." Clara nodded and got up.

"That might be a good idea. You could use a day off. I'm just going to head to bed. If you need me again, just call. You know I'm a light sleeper."

Peyton was not planning on waking Clara up for anything, but nodded to appease her anyway. It was usually easier to just pretend that you agreed with whatever she said when you lived with her.

After Clara left, Peyton made quick work of calling in sick, despite the heavy sighs of inconvenience coming from the other end of the phone. They could survive without her for one day, she was sure. And really, if she went in in her state, she wouldn't be much use. She couldn't stop staring at the cut under her thumb. There was a cut. It hadn't been there when she fell asleep. It was there when she woke up.

Sitting on the couch in her living room, she stared at the puckered skin.

"I cut myself in a dream."

But it couldn't be just a dream then, could it. She tried to convince herself that it was a coincidence and maybe she'd just cut herself on something in her sleep. But she was usually a light sleeper in the mornings. And she'd made the conscience decision to cut herself; she had felt the sting.

Peyton studied the living room, examined all of her belongings sitting out, felt the cotton of the couch beneath her.

"This is real," she said to herself. "So, so what's going on?"

She grew up here. She spent her time here. In this world. Cold flutters threatened to overtake her stomach again.

And yet. Yet, everything was just as clear, just as firm and tactile, in the dream world. She could still remember every moment and emotion with startling clarity. How could that be real too? It couldn't. Peyton shook her head and rubbed at her scalp. She needed help. Maybe she did need to see someone.

Even though it was still early, she couldn't go back to sleep so she puttered around the house getting ready for the day. After she'd gotten dressed, she sat down with breakfast and her laptop to do some research. If Clara ever looked through the browser history and wondered about the odd searches about dreams, she'd just tell her friend it was for novel research.

She tried looking up the name Alexander Luthor as well, but nothing close to the little boy or his sketchy dad popped up. Not that she really expected anything. The only conclusion she came to was that she wasn't going to be drinking apple juice before bed. She didn't need dreams anymore vivid than what she'd already been experiencing.

So all her research basically amounted to...absolutely nothing. Peyton sighed and sat back in her chair. Once again she ran a hand through her hair.

Maybe some tangible sources would be of more help. Like the library or a mental health clinic. Determined now, she got up and grabbed her keys and purse before shuffling outside. Library first. Then she'd see about a shrink. She didn't think she could handle any more of these dreams. What if they lasted longer and longer? What if she was hurt in them? What if...they ended up not being dreams? Another deep, shaky breath shuddered into her lungs and she shook off the tremulous thoughts. No time for that now.

The library had little to offer her in the way of new information. It was the first time the place had ever let her down, even if it wasn't technically at fault. Sure there were scores of books on dreams and interpretations, lucid dreaming, hallucinations, and schizophrenia, but nothing really matched up with what she was facing. It was maddening. Peyton closed a thick hardback book on the study of out of body experiences and sat back in her chair with a huff. It was noon now. Noon and she was no closer to an answer other than...than maybe it wasn't a dream.

She didn't like that answer.

It didn't make sense. It didn't fit. The world was built on logic, reason, and the laws of physics. This ripped apart all those beliefs. It wasn't right.

Deciding to take a break, she left for a nearby cafe to recoup and silence her barking stomach.

She sat alone at a table and sipped at the largest sized caffeinated drink the shop had. Hot and bitter, it rolled down her throat and sent a warmth up through her stomach. She let the aftertaste sit on her tongue in between sips. No matter how hard she tried, she could not shake the little red-headed boy from her mind. He'd burned himself there, it seemed. Even if it ended up being a dream all along, Peyton wasn't sure she'd be free of his despondent face. The thought of him sad made her heart ache. She'd always had a soft spot for children in need, and despite his father's obvious wealth, Lex seemed to be in more need than some.

When she finally reached the dregs at the bottom of her cup and finished off her coffee cake, Peyton decided to head home and banish all the stray thoughts from her mind with some serious house cleaning. She might as well do something useful on her day off, after all.