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.

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"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."

"Really?" That ... was not the answer he was expecting. At all. And he was too drunk and tired to even bother covering up the confusion.

"So ... me doing the most insane job on the planet makes sense to you? I ... must act like more of a nutjob than I thought."

She laughed a little, softly. "'Nutjob' wasn't really the word I was thinking of."

He raised any eyebrow at that. "Do I want to know what the word was?" He honestly was surprised at how well she was taking this. The last girlfriend he had told this to had kicked his ass right out the door. This ... this was unprecedented.

Lana raised her head to look at him again, waiting a beat before she answered.

"Hero."

The word startled him and he shook his head. He had a feeling that heroes weren't supposed to feel this tired and broken. Dean was far too selfish to be a hero. He wanted everything he couldn't have, and the only reason he fought was to keep it, only to lose it anyway.

Retribution for fighting for the wrong reasons, maybe. A sign that he wasn't even close to being the person that Lana thought him to be -- absolutely.

"I'm no hero," he sighed. "I just have really shitty luck."

"And where do I fall into this 'shitty luck'?" He'd saved her before, probably more than she'd originally realized.

He looked up at her, and he was really considering the question. Because he wasn't sure of the answer and he didn't want to screw it up. But in the end, he knew the only way he could answer was honestly.

"I don't know yet."

Maybe it wasn't such a good idea, but after a second of thought she got up and took a seat next to him, placing a hand on his arm.

"Dean," she started, getting used to associating that name with his face just as much as she was trying to drive her words home. "You're one of the best things to ever happen to me. Nothing will ever change that."

He looked over at her, and he heard the words. They were a small pebble in the bucket against the pessimistic, cynical bastard that he felt he'd become, but for a moment, he wanted to believe them. He wanted to believe that he had actually done some good for someone. It didn't make anything better, but it helped.

His hand moved over hers, covering the one that was placed on his arm. "Thank you."

Her lips turned up again, grateful he was accepting something she was saying. After a second or two she became more aware of their hands, and how much she wanted to pull him into her arms and never let him go.

"I missed you," she said softly.

"Me too." He wasn't aware of how much until right then, but he had. He had always wanted to try and make his way back to Smallville, but Sam came first. Sam always came first, but now ... Sam wasn't there anymore.

And Dean didn't know what to do.

Lana didn't know what to do, either. It was, in her mind, a delicate situation, and she didn't want to load him down with anything else. All she could think to do was look back at him as she laced her fingers with his.

He's quiet for a long time, just staring at their hands, before actually speaking. When he does speak, his voice is lower than a whisper.

"I don't have anywhere to go."

Her other hand came up to rest gently at the side of his head.

"Then stay. Stay with me."

He glanced over to her, tipping his head to the side as he tried to gauge if she was serious. "Lana, it's been five years."

"You say that like it matters."

"I think it does," he sighed, his eyes closing as he looked away. "I'm not even close to the guy I used to be back then. I've been through too much." She really didn't know what she was getting herself into with him. It was going to be rough, and he wanted to at least warn her of that in advance.

"Dean, look at me." she said softly as her hand stroked his hair.

He swallowed and turned to look at her, trying not to look as broken as he felt.

"I let you get away from me once. I'm not going to let that happen again."

"It's gonna be rough."

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