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thebadblood ([info]thebadblood) wrote in [info]wariscoming,
@ 2011-09-23 04:22:00

Previous Entry  Add to memories!  Tell a Friend!  Next Entry
Entry tags:darcy rhone, dean winchester

Who? AU!Dean & Darcy R.
What? Walking her to her place, possibly crashing there, angsttastic goodtimes, etc.
Where? Roadhouse, random streets or whatever, the complex.
When? After his commpost/arrival
Rating? Probably not super high, but contains: crazy angst / mentions of firey death / potentially vaguely suicidalish!Dean, probably swearing, etc.


If Dean’s watch was right, it had been three hours and twenty-four minutes. It felt like three seconds and three years all at once, the time stretched and warped, and Dean’s hands were blistered, wrapped in clean white gauze and his lungs ached from the smoke. He could still smell it, it was on him, in him, it wasn’t ever going to go away. His mouth and throat felt like they were full of ash, and he tried not to think about the source of it, about the fact that some of that ash, some of the smoke all over him, was Sam.

Sam was dead.

Sam, with his normal and his safety... he’d dreamed of being normal his entire life, of having a home that stayed in one place, a job that wasn’t hunting and a family that wasn’t them... and what did it get him, in the end? Nothing. It got him killed, turned his hopes and dreams and normal, safe life to ashes, along with everything else.

Now Dean was somehow in Lawrence of all places - one of the last places he ever wanted to be again, Paulo Alto and Lawence and apparently this was the universe’s first choice for a place to drop him, a great way to kick him when he’s already down. Simple and effective - throw one more reminder at him about how all of this was his fault and watch him fall down.

Dean didn’t know if he trusted this Darcy woman - but she was offering a place to stay, and company, background noise at the least, so he didn’t have to hear the roaring fire or splintering wood in the spaces where sound belonged. It could still be a trap, he supposed - but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care, if it was. What harm would it do? It’s not like he had any reason outside of pure self-preservation, and at this point that wasn’t exactly high on his priority list.

Following the directions she’d given, he ended up outside a bar - apparently this was where he was supposed to be, rather than just following his own direction, because right now being drunk would be wonderful, but not yet. First, he’d said he’d walk this woman home, and she was either nice or devious enough to be offering him somewhere to crash, and if she was playing some kind of game he’d deal with it, and if she wasn’t he’d deal with that, too, and this whole screwed up alternate reality situation thing, make sure it wasn’t going to be a problem (because, damnit, whether he liked it or not he still cared, and if this was a job he couldn’t just walk away from it)...

...and sooner or later he’d slip away from all of them long enough to-

The smile he offered when she came into view was almost as fake as the driver’s license in his wallet, but it held up, and it didn’t wobble or break. He knew he had to look bad - palms wrapped in gauze, soot and ash on his skin and the smell of smoke had to be carrying, he couldn’t smell anything else, and he had a feeling if he looked in the mirror he’d just look wrong, dead - but that didn’t mean he was going to make it worse by breaking down right now, thanks.

“Hey. Darcy, right?”



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[info]total_milf
2011-09-23 01:53 pm UTC (link)
Darcy was sitting at one of the booths in the Roadhouse, watching the television mounted on the wall and munching on celery — there were many a chicken wing bone strewn about a large plate in front of her — as she waited for Dean to come pick her up. The idea of staying back at home had become infinitely more appealing than it already had been for days when there was the prospect of Dean staying there, too. It wasn't so much that Darcy still had the hots for him — although, she'd have been lying if she said she wasn't interested at all — but with all the crazy happenings of Lawrence the past week and with the Tenth Doctor and Clark missing in action and replaced with nutjobs, well. Darcy was excited to have a man staying with her in close proximity so that she knew she'd be safe.

Of course, this Dean could be as bad as Sam, for all she knew, but he didn't sound like it. He sounded confused and upset whereas Sam sounded like a douchebag streaming live twenty four hours a day. He was cocky, arrogant, and obnoxious. Dean was none of those things, so either he was really good at playing the good guy, or...he was a new person replacing the real Dean and he was frustrated, scared, and upset just like anyone else who got dropped here; just like Darcy had been.

The Roadhouse was quiet, for the most part, by now. It was starting to get late and the patrons were leaving earlier and earlier every day to go home while it was still light outside. With autumn creeping in, it was getting darker earlier all the time, so usually by seven, all that was left was Jo and her family, Darcy, Florence, and the little guy Andy who was usually well passed out from running around the bar like a crazy person just to keep himself busy all day. He acted, sometimes, like a rat in a cage; Darcy felt his pain.

Darcy sat alone in the bar mulling over what was going on in this place lately; in her life as a whole. Everyone had gone off to the rooms Jo had given them and Jo, to her family — to a husband who loved her (well, would when he came back anyway) and two brand new beautiful baby girls. As much as Darcy adored Jo, she hated her just the same. Darcy was jealous. Jo had everything she wanted. Jo had a great husband and to top it off, Jo had baby girls while Darcy was growing two little boys in her womb. Two little boys whose father ran out on them as soon as he found out they existed. Raising two kids at once was going to be hard enough but two boys? Even watching Florence with Andy was indicator enough that no matter how much the babies loved her, they'd still mope around missing their father, even if they'd never had the chance to meet him.

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[info]total_milf
2011-09-23 01:53 pm UTC (link)
Her mind had drifted well away from the television until she heard the door open and her attention snapped toward the person entering. Shit! she thought angrily; she'd totally forgotten to lock up when everyone had gone to bed. She could've easily answered the door when Dean showed up, but she hadn't and that could have been a fatal mistake, because while the Roadhouse was safe from demons and the like...well, if it wasn't locked, it still wasn't safe from Sam.

But, she was relieved to see Dean walk in the door and she gave him a small, sympathetic smile as she slid out of the booth, grimacing with effort as it took a moment to actually stand up again. It was bad enough she'd had to push the table over toward the other seat; if the tables had been bolted to the floor, she'd have been screwed. With one hand on her back and the other gripping the side of the booth — which was bolted to the floor, go figure — she pulled herself to her feet and made her way toward him. "Hey, Dean," she said softly. "Yeah. I'm Darcy Rhone," she introduced when she was nearer, holding her free hand out for him to shake as the one on her back slid forward to rest on her giant stomach.

He smelled like smoke. Not like cigarettes; like smoke. That made Darcy slightly uncomfortable, especially when coupled with the way he looked — like he'd been in a fire. Part of it made her curious as to what the fuck he'd been doing before showing up here in Lawrence and the other part of it made he think of Kon and realize that, shit, it'd been hours and he hadn't responded to her, not even to decline the offer or make some excuse why he couldn't come to the Roadhouse. Kon was always prompt responding to her. It made her feel a little sick to think about, so she focused on Dean. "Ready? Or, did you want something to eat first? I can make you some wings, if you want," she offered, because...well, she'd made her own, so why not? Surely Jo wouldn't have minded.

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[info]thebadblood
2011-09-23 10:02 pm UTC (link)
Dean had expected the bar to smell like most bars of this type did. A little food, cigarettes, and beer. It was a comforting sort of smell - he’d been in more bars like this than he had almost anywhere but motel rooms in his lifetime, after all, and he knew the environment. It was a safe one, if you knew what you were doing as well as he did. This didn’t feel safe, though, and he couldn’t smell anything except smoke, and he couldn’t help but be a little disappointed that even somewhere like this couldn’t make him feel anything like his own particularly screwed up brand of normal again.

Dean shook the offered hand without losing a beat, without letting the fake smile fade - grip starting out cautious, but firming up once he realized he couldn’t really feel the blisters on his hands. It didn’t hurt. He wasn’t sure why he’d expected it to. “Hey. Thanks for,” he gestured a little with his other hand, not finishing the sentence (coming out with “thanks for either giving me a place to crash or an excuse to get myself killed” really wouldn’t sound right, would it?) and shrugging one shoulder slightly.

The offer of food made his stomach lurch unpleasantly. It was probably at least partially from hunger (when had he eaten last? Sometime before he’d gone to bed and had the dream, he was pretty sure - which put it at over two days now), but it was combined with the sick feeling that the idea of actually eating anything pulled along with it - everything smelled like smoke, and Sam was dead; he couldn’t even think about eating when all he could smell was fire and death - and he shook his head slightly, managing another smile.. “Nah. Thanks, but I’m good. Ready to go whenever you are.”

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[info]total_milf
2011-09-23 10:13 pm UTC (link)
Dean's grasp was weak at first and it surprised Darcy. For someone the size of him, she'd expected something a little more firm. But then it came and the feeling passed. She would need to remind herself that even though he was a familiar face to her, she was still new territory for him. He was probably being cautious or maybe he was still upset and couldn't be bothered to put in the effort right off the bat, but had caught himself mid-shake and put it right.

The awkward gratitude was acknowledged with a soft smile and a nod. "I'd like to think that the other you would've done the same for me if I'd needed it; don't mention it," she replied by way of letting him know she appreciated the thank you but that it wasn't a big deal and she would prefer to wave it off. "You can stay as long as you need or want to," she tacked on to make him feel a little better.

When he declined the food, Darcy shrugged, dropping her other hand from his to join the one on her stomach. "Okay," she replied easily. "If you change your mind, there's food at my place anyway," she continued. Maybe it was just that this Dean didn't want company as much as he proposed to. She'd make herself scarce when they got back to her place, she decided, to give him some time to process everything.

"We can go now," she offered. "It's not a long walk," she added over her shoulder, turning away from him and waddling back to the booth to shut off the television via the remote control before leaving. "But things have been pretty...crazy...lately," she admitted awkwardly, making her way back to him again and nodding back to the door from which he'd entered. "So, if you're cool with walking fast, that'd be awesome. I mean...as fast as I can walk, anyway, which is not very," she added with a small, sheepish smile.

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[info]thebadblood
2011-09-27 12:49 pm UTC (link)
Dean didn’t want to think about time - how long he’d be staying, how long he’d need a place to stay, how long he could hold on before everything caught up to him (he couldn’t imagine it being any more real, but at the same time it all felt like another dream) and knocked him down...

Or to think beyond tonight, because even if he did stay around here and didn’t get pulled back home, he didn’t know what he was going to do, what he even could do. Even if he went back home he didn’t have a whole lot of options, at this point. He had no family left (well, none except Dad, but as far as Dad was concerned the less he saw of Dean, the better), he had no idea where to even start looking for what had killed Sam, couldn’t even bear to think about the idea of hunting alone forever.

So he didn’t think about any of it, just nodded and smiled and acted like nothing was wrong, because that was what he did.

>"Okay. If you change your mind, there's food at my place anyway."

He nodded slightly, unspoken thanks and I’ll think about it, wearily scrubbing one hand up over his face and through his hair as she moved off to turn the television off - dislodging some stray ash and freezing, pulling his hand away and trying not to breathe it in, rubbing his hand off against the edge of his shirt while her back was still turned, wondering if he’d be able to get a shower once they got there, if a shower would help, what he’d do for clothes when all of his smelled like he’d just run into and then out of a fire...

...and then he was trying his best to keep his smile in place and his posture casual once she turned back and started coming over, saying something about how things have been crazy lately, and about walking fast. “That’s fine with me, yeah. I’m sure we’ll be okay, though.” He half-shrugged, “If something happens, I’ll take care of it.” He had a gun, and a knife - maybe it wouldn’t kill everything that could come after them, but it’d be a start, and he could at least hold whatever it was off until she got away. That would be good enough.

Dean held the door open for her, and then followed her out.

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[info]total_milf
2011-09-27 09:51 pm UTC (link)
It wasn't as though Darcy knew Dean well enough to see that something was wrong just by looking at him, but it was hard not to notice the vast difference between the last Dean she'd talked to — drunken and silly, smiling genuinely — and this one, who smelled of soot and smoke and looked like he was trying to hard to look okay when he probably wasn't. She didn't know what this Dean had gone through and something told her she probably didn't want to, but she could still tell that something was wrong and it broke her heart.

He was being so quiet, in fact, that the sound of his voice when he finally responded again felt foreign and uncomfortable to her, but Darcy shrugged it off; it wasn't her place to judge or ask. She was just offering him somewhere to crash and in private so he wasn't bombarded with family he may or may not want to see. Her best guess was the latter, anyway, for whatever reason.

"I'm sure, too," she lied easily, smiling gently. "Just...you know, better safe than sorry," she added a little more awkwardly than she would have liked to admit to even herself. It was comforting to hear him say that he'd take care of it if not, though, because that meant there was at least still some semblance of the Dean she knew hiding in there. He was still a hunter, it sounded like; or, if not, he was at least of the mindset that he could handle whatever might be thrown at him. He hadn't freaked too much about the Biblical Seal, at the very least. "Okay," she replied, not really knowing how else to respond.

When he held the door open, Darcy moved to lock the door and made her way out, waiting just outside for a second until he'd followed. She checked the door to be sure it had been locked properly. When she was satisfied that all was well, Darcy started heading toward the complex. It would be about ten blocks or so, she figured, because the ride had only taken about three or four minutes in the cab.

"So...I mean, if it's too personal or whatever, that's okay, but...when did you come from, exactly? I mean, I know it sounds totally weird, but it's 2011 here but it had been 2005 when I'd come from originally," she said, trying to break the silence a little and maybe put forth a tiny effort to distract him.

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