She is furious with him. With herself. With this fucking rain.
Lana tugs at the edge of her dress, wishing she could wear something more sensible. Glancing around though, at least she doesn’t stand out. She isn’t sure if that’s a good thing though. She can feel her rage seething, and tries to at least relax her face into some semblance of approachability.
She tries to recall at what point in the conversation she agreed to this. She tries to recall why she doesn’t just walk away. Just go home. Or go back to Dean and tell him to go fuck himself. Or better yet, go to Reese at work, dump her purse full of Dream on his desk and tell him where to find the Sandman. The more she thinks about it that would be the best way to get rid of him for good. But she doesn’t trust Dean not to take her down with him, and she isn’t sure Reese would let her get away with it either; he lives for his job.
In the middle of her meditation, she notices someone who doesn’t seem all that interested in the merchandise already on display. Lana strides confidently to him.
“Can I help you, baby?”
“Only if you think you could help me sleep at night.”
“I got something that will keep the nightmares away.”
He comes in close.
“Who are you?”
“You can call me Oneiroi”
“Nothing…I take it you aren’t new to this.”
He looks her up and down. She can feel the overconfidence roll through her. It sticks in her throat, burns her eyes. It makes her gag.
“Hell no. Let me see it.”
She reaches slowly into her purse. For all his machismo, he seems skittish, as though one quick movement could send him running. She hands it over.
“What is this shit?”
Lana looks at the bag and realizes she left the hotel with DayDream. Fuck.
For a moment she panics, and she can sense that he is moments from turning and leaving. Before pushing the thought violently out of her mind, she thinks about not disappointing Dean.
“Here, let me show you.” She reaches out and takes his hand, runs her fingers lightly over the knuckles before turning his wrist upwards. He startles, beginning to pull his arm free, but the sensation of her touch causes him to hesitate. She tears open the package and drips just the smallest hint of blue, no sense in wasting it. She knows it won’t kick in in time to make the sale, but she’s confident he will buy.
Lana massages the DayDream into the soft, tender skin.
She leans close, her words a warm whisper in his ear, “It’s just like Dream, but you get to stay awake. Everything feels more real, better.” She brings her hand up to his face, runs her thumb over his lips, “Everything that touches you lingers, and everything that you touch…”
He looks up at her, and she realizes how young he is. Sixteen, maybe seventeen. A child. She almost feels sorry for him. His cheeks are red, and his breath is racing. He takes the bag from her hand and slips her the money.
“Of course, if you don’t like it, you can always go back to Dreaming.”
He looks down as he stuffs the DayDream into his pocket, jumping slightly as a car horn blares down the street.
“How do I find you again?”
She laughs and turns away.
“Same way as last time. Ask the Sandman for sweet Dreams.”
Across the street in an unmarked car, Reese watches his wife saunter away from the kid, leaving them both wondering, what the hell just happened. It is some time before he finally pulls away from the curb and turns towards the empty house waiting for him.