#dale from

[cannibalspicnic]

This is such a funny thing for Dale to say as he's just sitting there after accidentally stabbing Boyd's son while attempting to murder two other people at Colony House.

[phantom-evil]

From (2022–) 2x10 "Once Upon a Time…"

[6mommymilkers9]

The Lantern Beyond The Pines

Chapter Eight: The Wrong Place

_____

The morning after the rain left the town smelling of wet pine and fresh earth. For once there wasn't much that needed repairing.

You found yourself wandering instead. Checking in on people. Helping where you could. Carrying a sack of flour to the diner for Tian-Chen.

Replacing a broken chair leg outside the clinic. Fetching water for an older couple who could no longer manage the walk themselves. Nothing extraordinary. Just another day.

Donna found you outside Colony House just before noon. "There you are."

You looked up from tightening a loose hinge on one of the storage sheds. "Morning to you too."

She folded her arms. "I've got a favor."

"You usually do."

"The old Matthews place."

"What about it?"

"One of the upstairs windows is sticking."

"I'll take a look." You gave the older woman a soft smile, sliding your screwdriver back onto your belt.

"You'll probably need a ladder." Donna added.

"I figured."

Donna gave a satisfied nod. "Knew I could count on you."

"You usually can." You gave her a salute, checking the hinge once more. Only then, you made your way to the Matthews'.

The work took longer than expected. The frame had warped. The latch needed replacing. By the time you climbed down the ladder, your shoulders ached pleasantly.

Jim stepped out onto the porch carrying two glasses of water. "You've earned this."

You accepted one gratefully. "Thanks."

"You ever think about slowing down?"

You laughed. "In this town?" You gratefully took a sip of the cool water.

"Fair point."

The afternoon slipped by peacefully. Almost too peacefully. You'd lived here long enough to know those days made everyone uneasy.

People smiled a little less. Laughed a little quieter. As though waiting for something to go wrong.

Near sunset, you found yourself helping Boyd and Ellis push an abandoned pickup farther off the road. It barely moved.

"Again!" Boyd grunted.

The tires scraped through the dirt. One more shove. The truck finally rolled clear.

Ellis leaned against it, breathing hard. "I swear these things get heavier every week."

"They're not." Boyd wiped his forehead. "We're just getting older."

You gave a playful grin. "I thought you age Boyd."

Boyd looked at you for a moment. "Feels like I am." A smile written on his face.

The crier bell rang. Once. Clear and sharp. The sound echoed across town. Everyone froze then moved fast.

You gathered your toolbox. "I'll see everyone tomorrow."

Donna was already ushering people indoors. "Move!"

"I'm going!" You swatted your hand her way, tugging at your utility belt.

"You always cut it close." She warned, pointing a knowing finger.

"I know!"

You had almost reached your house when Kenny called from halfway down the street. "Hey!"

You turned. He jogged toward you carrying a small wooden crate. "You forgot these."

Inside were the replacement hinges you'd ordered him to leave at the diner. "Seriously?"

"You said you needed them." He handed the crate to you, dusting his hands.

"I may have forgotten that. Whoops."

"I noticed."

You laughed. "Thanks."

"No problem." He looked toward the horizon. The last sliver of sunlight had nearly disappeared. "You should get inside."

"I'm literally twenty feet from my porch."

With his hands now on his hips, he gave you a knowing look.

"I'm going."

You reached your front steps just as the first shadows swallowed the road. Home.

You climbed the porch, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. The familiar ritual began.

Toolbox down.

Door shut.

Lock turned.

One window, then another. Locked

The kettle went onto the stove. Everything exactly as always. Until, someone pounded on your front door. Not a polite knock. A frantic, desperate pounding.

Your entire body went rigid. A man's voice cracked through the wood. "Please!" Your breath caught. "Please, somebody!"

Another bang. "They're coming!"

Your heart lurched. No. No, no— the voice was familiar.

"Dale?" You whispered.

Outside, "They're right behind me!" You rushed toward the door before stopping yourself just inches away.

The talisman.

The lock.

The rule.

Don't open it. Ever.

"Please!" The pounding became more frantic. "I can see your light!" His voice grew higher. "I'm begging you!"

Terror clawed at your chest. "Dale!" You pressed your hand against the door. "Run to the diner!"

"I can't! They're—" His voice broke into a scream. Something heavy slammed against your porch.

Then, silence.

Your blood ran cold. You couldn't breathe. Just beuond the door, footsteps. Slow. Measured. Not running. Walking.

You closed your eyes. You already knew.

A familiar voice drifted through the darkness beyond your door. "You shouldn't open your door Darlin"

Cowboy.

You didn't move. Your palm remained pressed flat against the door. On the other side, nothing. No pleading. No footsteps running through the street.

Only the quiet breathing you hadn't realized was your own, and the smell of iron.

Then Cowboy spoke again. "Step away." His voice was calm. Not raised. Not urgent. Simply certain.

You swallowed hard. "...Is he..." The question died in your throat.

Cowboy didn't answer. He didn't need to. The silence did.

Slowly, you stepped back from the door. Every instinct screamed at you to throw it open.

To look.

To help.

But a year in this town had taught you that some instincts got people killed. So you stood there. Hands clenched at your sides.

Listening.

Wood creaked beneath slow footsteps. Not just one pair. Several. They crossed your porch with the same leisurely pace that made the creatures so unsettling.

Never rushing. Never needing to. A woman's voice drifted through the darkness. "So close."

Another answered somewhere near your window. "They always think someone will save them." Soft laughter followed.

It floated through the night like a lullaby. Your stomach turned. You hated how gentle they sounded.

"You've gone quiet." Cowboy again.

You stared at the door. "I don't have anything to say."

"I noticed."

A bitter laugh escaped you. "I imagine you did."

Another silence.

Long enough that you wondered if he'd left.

Then, his voice broke through. "You wished to help." It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"You could not."

"No."

"You remained inside."

"I had to."

"Smart girl."

Your jaw tightened. "You don't have to keep telling me."

"I was not." Cowboy interjected, somehwere sounding like he was chewing. You chose to ignore it for your sake.

"Then what are you doing?" Your teeth practically hugged one another, jaw stiff as the corpse behind your door.

A pause. "Observing."

You closed your eyes. Of course he was.

Something scraped lightly across the porch railing. A bloodied hand. A boot. You couldn't tell.

You hated that you found yourself picturing him standing there. Hat low. Hands resting on his belt buckle. As though this were no different than any other night. Except it was different.

For both of you.

"I have question Darlin." His voice carried softly through the wood.

You almost laughed. "Now?"

"Yes."

"You have terrible timing."

"I've been told." Again, the sound of chewing once more.

Despite everything, the corner of your mouth twitched. "Go on."

"Had you opened the door..." He let the question hang. "...would you have regretted it?"

Your answer came immediately. "No."

He was quiet. "You would have died."

"I know."

"I asked if you would have regretted it."

You leaned your forehead against the cool wood. You didn't particularly care for Dale much, but, he was still one of you. "No."

The word barely left your lips. "I couldn't have listened to someone beg for help and done nothing."

Silence. Long, seemingly thoughtful. He spoke first. "I understand."

Your eyes opened. You frowned at the door, eyes furrowing. "You do?"

"I understand your answer."

"You don't think it's foolish?"

"It is." The bluntness almost made you smile.

"But you understand it." You couldn't help but find the irony in the situation.

"Yes."

"How?"

"You're consistent."

You blinked.

"You repair. You carry. You remain. You help." Each observation landed softly. A fact stated, even.

"Asking you not to..." Another pause, another chew and swallow. "...would be asking you to become someone else."

Your breath caught. It wasn't comfort. It wasn't sympathy. It was simply the most accurate thing anyone had ever said about you.

A floorboard groaned outside. Another creature.

You heard a man's amused voice. "Are you finished?" Cowboy didn't answer him.

He laughed once. The sound drifted away toward the next house. A few moments later, the porch grew quiet again.

"You're still alive." Cowboy spoke almost to himself. "I shall leave."

You looked toward the door. Beyond your instincts, you called for him. "Cowboy."

He stopped. You weren't even sure why you'd called his name. The silence stretched. You squeezed your fist harshly.

Finally, you asked the only thing that mattered. "Was it quick?" You expected no answer. Perhaps he wouldn't answer. Instead— "Yes."

Nothing more. No details. No embellishment. Just the truth. You closed your eyes. "Thank you."

Another pause. You could hear the movement of his belt. "You thanked me."

"I know."

".Why?"

"Because you didn't lie."

Cowboy was silent.

Almost quietly— "I seldom do."

"I've noticed." Your body finally relaxed, leaning against the wall. For the briefest moment, neither of you spoke. Neither of you moved.

Then his boots creaked once across the porch. One step after another. The night reclaimed him.

Morning arrived with a heavy stillness. No one laughed at breakfast. The diner felt smaller somehow. Every chair was occupied, yet the room seemed hollow.

Boyd stood near the counter, bell in his hands. "We lost Dale." No one spoke. There was nothing left to say.

You sat at your usual table, untouched coffee cooling between your hands. Across the room, Randall watched you.

Not openly. Just often enough that you eventually looked back. He held your gaze for a moment before walking over. "You okay?"

You nodded automatically. "I'm fine."

"No." He pulled out the chair across from you. "You're not."

You stared into your coffee, hand on the handle, still as ever. "I heard him."

Randall's expression hardened. "Outside?"

You nodded once. "He made it to my porch."

Randall rubbed a hand across his jaw. "That's rough." Another pause. "You did the right thing."

You wanted to believe him. Instead, all you could hear was the pounding on your front door.

That afternoon, as you repaired a loose porch step with more force than necessary, Victor wandered past.

He stopped. Looked at the fresh hammer marks. Then at you. "The patterns get bigger." Before you could ask what he meant he was already gone.

You watched him disappear down the road. Your eyes drifted, almost involuntarily back toward your own house.

And toward the porch where, only hours before, two very different conversations had ended. One with a desperate man. One with a creature.

Both of them impossible to forget.

[the-multiversal-enigma]

[doitsushine92]

the absolute shock i felt when dale showed up in the walls of the pool i was GAGGED

[lmazo]

Dale from From was a very bossy pillow princess bottom his whole life, but i firmly believe if someone out of his league showed up and was so hot that he was willing to be submissive for them for even one night it would have unlocked things in his brain and fixed his entire personality