Take my love, take my land
"I like you," River informed him as he sat down next to her. Her legs were dangling off the edge of the balconey, arms crossed on the bottom rung of the railing, boots kicking against each other with a dull th-thud every other second.
"Thanks, Angel," Dean said, amused. "I like you too."
"You like all girls," she said, a little disdainful, a little teasing. "Like Jayne does, only nicer."
"It's kinda hard to not be nicer than Jayne," Dean said dryly. "Trigger-happy sociopath."
"People say that about you, too."
"People say all sorts of things about me, Angel."
She sat up straight then, pulled her legs up and underneath her so she was facing him cross-legged, skirt riding up her thighs. Dean tilted his head at her, curious. "What?"
River reached out and cupped his face in her hands. "You're like me. You're Sammy's Simon on the outside, but in the inside, you're his River. You're broken, too. All in little pieces. And so very far from home."
Dean froze up briefly, staring at her. Nothing but sorrow and understanding in those huge bright eyes.
"Aren't we all, Angel," he said quietly. "Aren't we all."
"Pieces can be fun, too," she told him then, perfectly serious. "Can be all over. Simon and Sammy are always one place at a time, can't be anyplace else. Don't know how. Dean and River are always everywhere."
Dean raised his coffee-cup to her in a toast. "To pieces!"
She clacked hers against it, giggling. "To pieces!"