First of all big thanks to everyone who reviewed

Second I know maybe some of the characters are a little out of character, but I'm working on it

I must admit I am much happier with this chapter than the last

Please enjoy

Raindrops rolled down the wall through the cracked screen of the window. Once in a while, one of the drops would get caught on the curls of peeling paint on that sprouted from the wall and remained trapped like a fly in a spider web.

Dallas sighed deeply, watching the raindrops. He was horribly hungover, to the point that he could barely stand. It made him feel like the world was spinning much too fast, making him feel dizzy.

He closed his eyes, gladly inviting the darkness to take over his hazy vision. He hadn't slept much, maybe a nap was a good idea…

BANG!

Dallas groaned as his head began to pound, obviously due to the loud sound outside his door.

"Dallas!" The one and only Buck Merril yelled from outside his door, causing him to groan again.

"Ya know, there is a difference between knocking my door, and just hitting it." The greaser said, quickly realizing that raising his voice made his condition much worse. Buck hit his door once more, probably just to get a rise out of him.

"There's someone here to see you," Buck said, his voice low and serious. Dally sat up quickly in bed, ignoring the spinning of the room.

"Sylvia?" He asked loudly. He had gotten into a pretty bad argument with her the previous night, and they had yet to make up.

"No, not quite," Buck said, his voice less serious now, and a bit more mocking. Dally wondered if maybe he was just messing with him, maybe he just wanted to watch a sick and wobbly Dallas Winston stumble down the stairs like some sort of a pansy.

"Johnny?" He asked this time, suspecting that the short greaser would be the only one to come looking for him. But it was a Monday, and he would still be in school. Perhaps he had skipped?

BANG, BANG, BANG. Buck repeatedly hit the door, signaling that he was becoming impatient.

"Fine, I'm coming, I'm coming." He grumbled, and shakily got up from the bed, opening the door. Buck smirked upon seeing him, and Dally felt a scowl set on his own face. He figured he must scowl a lot if it had become a natural reaction for him.

"What are you smirking at, punk?" He said through clenched teeth.

"Did Dally-Wally have too much to drink?" Buck said in a voice that an elderly aunt would use with a newborn baby. "Poor, Dally-Wally." He mocked, as a smug smile set on his face.

Dallas snarled, shoving him hard. Buck's back hit the wall, and he sank down, laughing merrily to himself, apparently having the time of his life.

"It's Sylvia isn't it?" He asked, darkly. Buck always got like that when Sylvia was there to bitch at him. Buck shrugged, his back still against the wall, and smug smile still on his face.

"Maybe, maybe not," Buck said. Dally groaned again, pounding down the stairs.

"Listen, Sylvs, if you're here to start another argument, I don't wanna…"

His voice died in his throat. Because it wasn't Sylvia. It was him, it was the stranger.

"How d-did you… why did y-you?" Dallas sputtered for a moment. Then his facial features physically hardened, the fierce scowl that he had previously been wearing reappeared on his face.

"Who the fuck are you? How did you find me?" He practically roared. To his surprise, the man didn't seem disturbed by his yelling. In fact, his face didn't change, not in the slightest bit.

"Didn't ya hear, Dallas?" Buck called gleefully, running down the stairs, apparently having recovered from his laughing fit. "You're a nephew!" He cried with mock happiness.

His eyes drifted from Buck to the man, who smiled softly at Dallas, showing off two lines of straight white teeth.

"N-nephew?" Dally asked, pinching himself to see if he was dreaming. He felt it, there was no doubt about it. The man nodded once, and Dallas felt incredibly dizzy. From the shocking news of the hangover, he would never know.

"Buck." He turned back to the other greaser. "A word."

The two of them headed to the back of the room, and Dallas immediately shoved him again up against the wall once again.

"What did you tell him?" He growled, waving a hand in his face. "Is this some sort of joke?" He demanded.

"Nope." He said bluntly, the smug grin fading. "He just came in a few minutes ago for a drink and happened to mention he was here looking for his nephew. And either you and his nephew have the same name, or you are the nephew." He explained. "And you're the only Dallas Winston I know."

Dally released him from the wall and leaned against him for support, his head pounding loud enough to block out any rational thought that could be trying to get through to him.

"Listen, Dal," Buck said, completely serious now. "He's only in town for a few days, and he's the only family you got next to your old man."

Dallas pulled away from him, leaning on the wall now.

"What are you saying?" He demanded, staring at his feet to avoid accidentally gazing at the man.

"I'm saying maybe spend some time with him. Show him around Tulsa." He encouraged, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"And why would I do that?" He demanded, copying his action of crossing his arms.

"Because I think it would be good for him. For both of you." He tried to reason. "That guy, he's kind of…" He paused, his face focused, "…off." He finished.

"Off, how?" He questioned, glancing once at the stranger.

"He seems really sad. Figured maybe he's dying from some disease, maybe has a couple weeks to live." He said bluntly. Dallas snarled again.

"He seems fine to me." He commented. Buck shrugged again.

"Like I said, it would do you both some good. He seems sad, and I want you out of here for a bit. The last thing I need is you and Sylvia throwing glasses at each other and scaring people off like you were last night." He reasoned.

Dallas sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, Buck was right. He turned away from the other greaser to face the man.

"So what do you like to do for fun?"

Please review, and I hope you enjoyed- Macky