ashorttriptohell | the rusty nail } { my strength is fading, I have to give in

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the rusty nail } { my strength is fading, I have to give in

Dean didn't know what he was doing in Smallville.

He shouldn't be in Smallville. He was supposed to be in Indiana, with Lisa and Ben, trying to see if he could handle living the normal, apple pie life, but he wasn't getting there. He wasn't even sure if he really wanted to go. All he knew was that he had made a promise to Sam to get out, and he didn't know if he could do it.

He had only left Lawrence a few hours ago, but he hadn't made it very far before being in serious need of a hard drink. In fact, it was the kind of drinking that he really didn't want to come up from, but after the very butch bartender of the Rusty Nail (worst bar name ever, in his humble opinion) decided that he needed to be cut off for the night, he paid his tab and stumbled his way out, hands fumbling in his pockets for his keys. He wasn't planning on driving -- that car was all he had left, and he wasn't about to destroy it -- but he needed somewhere to sleep, and he wasn't going to make it to a motel. Back seat was comfortable enough -- wasn't like he hadn't done it before.

The cool, fresh night air hit him like a blast to the face and woke him up a bit, making him sway a little less and walk a little straighter. He was surprised that he had even had enough sense not to just buy his own booze and give himself alcohol poisoning, but he had, and right now, he just wanted to sleep it off. He pulled the keys out of his pocket and went to unlock the passenger's side door, one hand rubbing his face slowly as he did.

Tomorrow was going to suck, and not just because of the hangover.

[If you need more ... lemme know?]

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"I could do with the one." Lana gaze turned his way, her voice quiet. "I don't want you to be alone."

He took a breath at that before shaking his head. "I'll be fine, Lana. I'm a big boy." And he means that -- or at least he wants to.

She tilted her head a bit. "Maybe I didn't word that correctly." Her hands moved to grip his upper arms. "You can make any arrangements you want, but big boy or not, I'm not leaving you."

He looked at her for a moment, not really sure why she was doing this for him -- a person who really did nothing but lie to her through their whole relationship -- but the fact that she was meant more to him than he would ever say.

He swallowed hard, then nodded before speaking quietly. "Thank you."

She didn't say anything in return, just stared up at him as she let her touch become more gentle. She was aware of the approaching footsteps, but her eyes didn't leave him for a second.

Dean's instincts were stronger, and there was a quick glance up to see who was coming, but once he acknowledged that the face wasn't a threat his eyes were back on hers again.

"I should go get that room."

She gave a slight nod. "I'll wait here for you."

He made his way into the main office and managed to weasel his way into a room with two twins, before coming back out and handing her her key. As understanding as Lana was being, he wasn't going to share a bed with her. That would just lead to things happening that probably shouldn't.

"Room 201," he said with a smirk. "Parking lot view."

She grinned back at him. "Let's get you to bed." She wrapped an arm around him to guide him to the room. Even if he was fine to walk on his own, it was a gesture she wanted to make.

He appreciated the gesture. A lot. He followed her lead, unlocking the door for them when they got there and closing the door behind them. It was after that that he wished he had the presence of mind to grab a few things from the Impala anyway.

Just because the Apocalypse was over didn't mean they were safe.

His eyes turned and he started to scan the room, trying to see if there was a way for him to ward the room without the basics.

"You don't think there's any salt in here, do you?"

Salt? Lana was confused. Why would he need salt of all things? Her first thought was bath salt, but those were only in the nicer rooms intended for special occasions, and definitely not something that made any sense as far as he was concerned.

"Pretty sure there isn't. Why?"

Dean inhaled sharply, before shaking his head. "Nothing. Never mind. I'm just gonna ... hit the head."

She just nodded. "Okay."

Dean nodded, before disappearing into the bathroom, trying to catch his breath for a second. This felt almost surreal. All he had wanted was to get blind drunk, and somehow he wound up with Lana Lang back in his life.

He wasn't sure if this was a bad thing. Not yet. But ... it was a sudden change of pace he wasn't sure he was ready for.

He stared at himself in the mirror for a moment, trying to calm the thoughts that were raging in his head, telling him to run and get out of there before he got her killed too, but he wasn't strong enough for that. He splashed some cold water on his face, trying to wake himself up more, and dried himself off before heading back into the room again.

Lana's knee-jerk reaction to a moment alone was to text Chloe, to see what she could dig up on the name Dean Winchester, and she almost gave into it. It was only natural after everything, but she told herself to give him a chance to tell her himself. He was a man who had done nothing but love and protect her, who she had loved--and maybe still loved. She owed him that much.

Instead she sat on one of the beds and waited until he appeared again. Despite the mess he was in, she couldn't help the tiny grin that came across her face.

He caught the smile, and there was something about it that made him feel a little bit lighter. He returned it as best he could under the circumstances, before moving to sit down on the bed across from her, so that he was facing her.

"So ... this is the part where I do that explaining thing, right?"

And for the record, he was very glad she didn't text Chloe. She would have gotten the completely wrong idea.

The offer came as a bit of a surprise, but made it abundantly clear how right she'd been to trust him. She hadn't felt as good about a decision in a long, long time.

"I'd rather you tried to get some sleep first."

He glanced back at the bed behind him, before shaking his head. "Sleep is a bit of a foreign concept right now."

She just nodded, knowing better than to argue.

"Why did you lie to me?" Her tone wasn't demanding or accusatory; she just wanted to know.

It took him a minute to think back to the exact reasoning behind that one, and he shrugged. "I didn't want to be me. I wanted to be someone else, and I didn't expect it to become ... what it was."

Maybe still is. Dean did have issues with letting go, after all.

Another nod.

"So who are you?"

"My name is Dean Winchester," he sighed. "I was born in Lawrence Kansas in 1979. And ... I'm a hunter."

"A hunter?"

He swallowed again, hard and just kept talking. "Of the supernatural. So ... demons and ghosts and ... stuff. It's the family business."

He doesn't say that phrase with the same zest he used to, because all the family business has done was get his family killed. But in the end it's the truth. Hunting is the Campbell-Winchester family business. It's a hell of a tradition to be born into.

She just stared a him a few moments, letting those words process and match up with all the memories she had of him, then glanced down at her hands, the corners of her lips turning up a bit.

"That makes a lot of sense, actually."

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