ashorttriptohell | 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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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."

"Since when has that ever stopped me?"

"Point," he said with a slow nod, before glancing back at her. "I also ... haven't been making a lot of friends lately. And they might come back looking to take it out of my ass."

She shook her head. "Nothing you can say will change my mind. You should know that."

He nodded. "I do. But that doesn't mean I can't warn you in advance."

Her lips turned up just slightly as she raised her eyebrows. "Is there anything else you'd like to warn me about before I remind you how much it matters?" Which was not at all, but that was implied.

Edited 2011-05-30 15:58 (UTC)

He caught the implication. He was at least that conscious. "Yeah, but I don't think it'll do me much good other than hearin' myself speak."

"Good to hear you've grown out of that," she said with a teasing smirk.

"Sadder but wiser," he nodded. "That's the phrase, right?"

She nodded, that smirk fading a bit. "yeah. It is."

He nodded again, before sighing. "We should ... probably sleep."

"If you expect me to drive you back to your car in the morning."

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