Where I'm from, having a dream doesn't make you smart.

Pre-pilot. Multi-chapter.

So why did Ryan go boosting cars with Trey that night? Didn't he use to be the good boy? What happened?

DISCLAIMER: Characters etc... are property of Fox and Schwartz. Not mine. Don't sue.

Thanks to BonnieD for being a cool, efficient, supportive and speedy beta!

Thank you all for the great reviews – do keep reviewing.

Warning – R-rated for language, sex and drug references.

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Chapter 5: Face-off

A week on, Ryan had settled into his new routine. As he suspected, Trey had seized the opportunity and landed most of the work on him. So Ryan drove up to see Earl – he'd been twice already on his own, because the summer party season was on and the supplies were selling fast; Ryan carried the cash and the grass around; and Ryan got to weigh it and bag it. Trey did most of the actual selling, but Ryan did the accounts. Which considering it meant prying cash off Trey so they could afford the next batch, was actually a challenge. Nothing compared to getting the rent money off a drunk Dawn, though, so Ryan considered himself lucky.

He'd gone back home once in that time to pick up a few things, check that his room and his stuff were there and tell his mom that he was doing okay. She was pretty straight that day and seemed satisfied that Trey was looking after him. All in all, the meeting had been surprisingly friendly. Ryan ended up staying the night – and reveling in the comfort of sleeping in a bed again. Of course, AJ hadn't been around that night – which had helped. It also meant that if all hell broke loose at Trey's – always a distinct possibility, judging by past events – he still had a place of sorts there.

In the meantime – well, life wasn't all bad. Trey had threatened to take him car-jacking some night but hadn't yet – just as well, because Ryan wasn't looking forward to that particular lesson. There had been a few more parties, a couple of friendly girls, a shitload of weed and more than a few beers. It was summer, and Ryan was chilling out. For the first time in a long time, he didn't have a job. At all. Apart from the dealing, but that wasn't much of a chore, compared to the previous summer, which he'd spent on a construction site. And that felt weird, but it also felt like a vacation.

He was "working" one afternoon, bagging grass, when Eddie dropped by. Trey was out doing some unspecified business – there were still areas that Ryan was not involved in – and Ryan welcomed the distraction. Eddie was easy conversation; they'd shoot the shit – talking about sports, or cars, or Trey's endless supply of women, which never failed to impress Eddie. By some sort of unspoken agreement, they never mentioned Theresa. Ryan sometimes wondered how much Eddie knew about him and Theresa. He was sure she wouldn't have said anything – but Trey might have. Or Arturo. Either way, he did not want to find out. Not when the memory of their last hook-up was still fresh in his mind.

"So, man, how's it hanging?" Eddie asked, sinking into the couch opposite Ryan.

Ryan shrugged. "Okay, I guess. You want some?" He nodded towards a half-smoked joint on the table. Eddie smiled and picked it up. As he lit it and inhaled he made a face, and started coughing.

"Jesus, Ryan, what is this?"

"That's Trey's personal. Pretty good, when you get used to it."

Eddie frowned. He took another couple of drags and looked at the spliff, then back at Ryan.

"So, you're smoking this stuff all day?"

"Huh? Sometimes, I guess. It's not like I need to be straight to do this."

Eddie was looking wary. "Ryan, man, you sure you're okay?"

Ryan scooped up the grass from the scales with a piece of card and filled the bag before ziplocking it. "Why shouldn't I be?"

"Because, this," and he gestured at the joint, the scales, the stash of weed, the neat little bags on the table, "this isn't you, Ryan. This is Trey. And you've never been that similar before."

Ryan kept his eyes fixed on the weed, weighing the next lot. "So? People change."

"Yeah, well, it's not the nicest of changes, Ryan. You don't look that happy."

"I'm fine."

"Look, kid, I've known you since you were, what, eleven? You're not a stoner like Trey. Why are you even trying?" Eddie sounded frustrated.

Ryan stayed silent.

"I mean, you were doing good at school, you were always the straight kid, heading for better things, and now look at you. I know your mom..." Eddie trailed off as Ryan looked up for a fraction of a second, with a flash of anger, and then away again.

"I'm fine, Eddie. Drop it," he said testily.

Much to Ryan's relief, Eddie sighed, and got up. But he couldn't let it go.

"It kills me to see you fuck you up your life like that, Ryan," he said – and this time he put his hand on Ryan's shoulder, compelling him to look up at him. Ryan clenched his jaw, but held the stare. "Listen, if it's money you need – I know it's not great, but I'm sure I can get you a job in the garage for the summer."

"Thanks but no thanks," Ryan snorted. "If I wanted a job with long hours and shit pay I could have stuck with my Saturday one. I'm done doing that, Eddie. Have you ever thought that maybe Trey's got it right?"

He glanced away then, furious at himself because he knew he sounded stupid and self-conscious and like a fucking kid.

Eddie shook his head. "No, man, I haven't. Because, Ryan – in a year, two years tops, Trey's going to be in jail, or in hospital with a couple of broken legs or worse, because one of his dealer friends got the wrong idea." He stopped and looked hard at Ryan again, before continuing. "And the way it's going, you'll be with him. I hate to see that, Ryan. I know it's not really my place to say anything – but I can't see you doing this to yourself and say nothing."

"Yes, you can," Ryan snapped back "And you're right, it's not your place. So just fuck off and leave me alone, okay?" Because, of course, Eddie was right, and Ryan really didn't want to think about where he'd be a year from now.

"'Kay," Eddie muttered, and he slammed the door shut as he left.

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The next day, Trey kicked Ryan out for the night.

"I've got some guys coming over, Ryan, and they're kind of serious. They don't know you yet and..." He shifted about, looking uncomfortable.

"I thought you were all about introducing me to your associates?" Ryan said. He suspected Trey was holding something back.

"Yeah, but not yet. Not these guys. Gattas is – kind of paranoid. He doesn't like new faces." And Trey still looked like he was lying though his teeth but Ryan let it slide, not really caring one way or another.

"I'll go see Mom," he shrugged.

"I'll drive you," Trey said, unexpectedly. Fuck, thought Ryan, there really was something going on tonight. He wasn't sure he wanted to know about it, but it pissed him off that Trey was so willing to cut him out of the loop if they were supposed to be partners.

Or maybe it was something else entirely. Either way, Ryan didn't like it.

The ride home was quick and silent. Trey didn't stop long but just dropped him off with his bike and pulled off in a screech of tires. He always drove like he was in some goddamn seventies car-chase movie.

Ryan eyed the front door apprehensively. This time, AJ's pick-up was outside, and there was little chance that he was out without his ride. Still, it was mid-afternoon, possibly the best time to face the fucker – after he'd shaken his morning hangover, and before he started getting seriously high.

He put his key in the lock and slowly opened the door, holding onto it with his fingertips so that it shut behind him as noiselessly as possible.

AJ was sprawled on the couch, beer in hand, watching some stupid cop show. Ryan's mom was nowhere to be seen. But her car too had been out front, so she couldn't be far.

"Hey," Ryan said, nodding at the back of AJ's head. His chest felt tight and he could almost hear his heart hammering. He hated AJ, and he was scared of him, and he really hated that he was scared of him.

AJ barely looked at him. "What the fuck are you doing here?" he asked, but without much malice or enthusiasm. Ryan felt the tightness ease a little. Maybe this time would be okay. There were countless nights where AJ didn't decide to whale on him. They were not, however, as memorable as the ones where he did.

He shrugged and muttered something noncommittal as he walked across the room. AJ had already turned his back on him and was staring at the TV, swigging from the can mechanically. He looked barely fucking human, Ryan thought, and he repressed the shudder of disgust that overcame him when he thought of AJ and his mom together.

Ryan holed up in his room for the rest of the afternoon, stretched out on his bed, reading old magazines and watching TV. He'd missed having his own space just to relax – Trey was always around at the apartment, and there were hangers-on every evening. Ryan needed his alone time – and if it meant that he had to put up with the piece of shit outside his bedroom door, so be it. He could always avoid him.

Or so he thought.

It turned out to be one of AJ's bad nights. Some guy hadn't turned up with cash he owed, and the big man was getting angry. Even through his closed door, Ryan could figure out that the evening was panning out nasty. He hoped against hope that Dawn wasn't headed for some stupid-ass fight with AJ because that always ended up with him having to intervene and getting his ass kicked.

"Fuck you," Ryan heard her screech, and then the thumping noise that he knew meant AJ had belted her one.

Every fucking time, he thought tiredly, and he got up and opened the door. Because, really, no matter how fucked up she was, and how much he hated her for what she'd done to him, he couldn't pretend she wasn't his mom, getting beaten up by her coke-dealing thug of a boyfriend, ten feet away. And he couldn't let that pass.

He stepped into the living room, staying close to the wall. AJ was still on the couch, but looking decidedly nastier than when Ryan had come in. Dawn was sitting next to him, holding her cheek, which was red, and she was cursing him.

"You think I don't know how much money Gary owes you? I told you not to trust that asshole, you motherfucker," she was screaming at him.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch!" AJ said, and he slapped her again, but without too much enthusiasm, Ryan noted. Just because he held back with her, though, didn't mean he wouldn't let rip with him.

"Hey, AJ," he called out.

AJ looked up, his face blank. As he focused on Ryan, emotions flitted across his features – anger, disbelief, and also a sort of resignation. Here we go again, he seemed to think. Yeah, that's exactly how it felt, thought Ryan

"Leave her alone," he said with as much confidence as he could muster. He let his hands ball into fists at his sides. As long as he managed to land a punch or two, it was kind of worth it. Plus AJ would generally leave Dawn be if he vented his anger elsewhere.

"Yeah? Or what, punk?" AJ stood up. He was an ugly motherfucker all right. A big ugly motherfucker. Ryan drew a deep breath in and braced himself.

"Don't. Fucking. Hit. My. Mom," he spat out. And as he said the words, he felt anger coursing through his veins, white hot, and he knew he'd be able to cope with whatever AJ did to him. As long as he just used his fists.

He ducked the first swing and landed one on AJ's chin, snapping his guard back in time to stop the next punch hitting his face. AJ's next one, though, hit straight through and whacked him in the jaw. Ryan staggered back into the wall, and caught another one to the face before slipping out of AJ's reach and backing into the room towards the front door.

"AJ, stop it," Dawn called from the couch. Ryan shot her a glance. She was cutting lines on the table. Huh. Maybe she was onto something.

"Shut it, Dawn," AJ snapped back.

"C'mon, AJ," she whined, a rolled bill in her hand. Ryan was still edging towards the door, and kept checking on AJ, but he saw that her tactic worked. AJ shrugged and shot him an evil glance.

"Fuck it," he snarled, and ambled back towards the couch. "You better get the fuck outta here, kid." He grabbed the bill and leaned down over the twin tracks on the table.

Ryan nodded and looked at his mother. She hadn't come out of the encounter too bad, considering. He was definitely going to look worse in the morning.

"Come back later," she mouthed at him over AJ's bent head.

Ryan let himself out.

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He stood outside the front porch for a few moments, checking his injuries. He was going to have a shiner tomorrow for sure, and a bruised jaw. But apart from that he was okay, so for AJ that wasn't too bad. And he had landed a hard punch on the motherfucker, which made him happy. It also looked like AJ and Dawn had stopped fighting for now.

Ryan patted his pockets and swore under his breath when he realized he had left his cigarettes on his bed. He might be able to crack the window open from outside, but it seemed pointless at this stage to risk getting AJ pissed again. Later, when he was wasted, it would be easier to sneak back in. Until then, he had a couple of hours to kill. He looked over the fence at Arturo and Theresa's house, wondering whether he wanted to spend time with either of them. He thought of Eddie, too, and his concern for him.

His stomach rumbled. Ryan checked the time – it was eight o'clock and he hadn't eaten since breakfast. That swung it. Eva always had food ready, and always shared it generously. Plus it would give him a chance to catch up with Theresa and say hi. He crossed over and rang the doorbell.

Theresa opened the door.

"Huh. There's a face I haven't seen in a while, Atwood." She stood there, looking at him stonily, an unreadable expression in her eyes. Ryan felt uncomfortable. The last words they'd exchanged weren't exactly friendly, something he hadn't really thought about when he rang the bell.

"Hey Theresa. Any chance I could come in?" he asked.

"You back at your mom's?" she said, not moving.

"Just for the night." What the hell was she playing at?

"Okay then, I guess." Theresa said without enthusiasm, and she stepped aside to let him in.

The house was more than usually quiet, and Ryan realized neither Arturo nor Eva were home. Suddenly the dynamics of the situation shifted. He wasn't sure he was up to one-on-one time with a pissed Theresa. And after his little pep talk from Eddie, he didn't really want to work on making up with her, either, because that generally involved fucking, and that somehow felt wrong now.

"Your mom's not around," he remarked. "What's up?" He'd rarely known Eva not to be there. That had been one of the main differences between his home and Theresa's. Her mom was always there in the evenings, cooking dinner, looking after her and Arturo, and making the place a home. It was as close to a real home as Ryan had ever experienced.

"Mom's visiting my aunt in San Diego," Theresa said flatly. "So, what are you doing here? I thought it was all about you being a drug lord with your brother these days?"

Ryan could feel his ears burning. "Listen, Theresa, I..."

She went on. "Or so 'Turo tells me because it's not like you keep in touch. Last time I saw you, you were a prize ass, but it looks like you're even more of an ass now." She was glowering at him.

"It's not like I could stay there, Theresa," he said hotly, gesturing vaguely in the direction of his home. "And what's the point of trying to do anything to get out of this mess if my fucking Mom can't stay straight for three months at a time?"

She sighed. "Oh Ryan, for Christ's sake, what are you playing at?"

"I'm not playing at anything," he snapped back. "What choice do you think I have?"

They were standing eye to eye in the center of the room. Theresa looked at him with something a damn sight too close to pity for comfort. Ryan wanted to tell her to shut up, to stop telling him off, but he'd rather she bawled him out that than look at him with those eyes.

She leaned in and touched her lips to his and he kissed her back, his mouth opening as a reflex. She pressed her breasts into his chest, her hands sliding up his arms to his shoulders, and he found himself hugging her close. Her lips were soft, yielding, her tongue hungry. He could feel his whole body responding to her, his brain shutting down and letting his dick take over. He ground his hips into hers, and heard her moan softly. This was so easy, so natural. He felt like shit, he went to Theresa, Theresa gave him comfort, they got off, everyone was happy.

Except that this time, he felt really bad about it. He pulled away.

"Theresa, we can't," he muttered and he felt her stiffen.

"Huh?"

"I mean, I really want to... but Eddie..." he faltered. He sounded like an ass and he knew it.

Theresa stared at him and pushed him away. She looked really pissed.

"Eddie? Since when do you give a fuck about Eddie, Ryan? Because I don't remember you talking about him when you were here last." Her voice was bitter with pent-up fury and frustration.

"Since – whatever, Theresa, it's not a good idea." Ryan knew she was right, that he was acting like a prick to her. Nobody else had ever come between them before. And he had never turned her down before

But Eddie – Eddie gave a fuck about Ryan. Eddie had actually taken the time to tell Ryan what he thought about his current situation. He'd offered help. And Ryan may have told him to fuck off, but he knew the guy was doing the right thing, and it felt plain wrong to bone his girlfriend after that. Even if it was Theresa.

"It's never a good idea Ryan. But when did Eddie start counting more than I did? Is that what happens when you hang with Trey? You turn into the same kind of asshole as him, and 'Turo? It's all about the guys and their honor and us girls, we just get lumped in with the shit? Jesus, I hate you Ryan. Fuck you!"

"Theresa..."

"You know what? Next time you're in fucking trouble, don't come knocking on my door, Atwood. I don't care anymore. You can go fuck yourself. Now get out of my house." And she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Ryan sighed. This time he'd fucked it up good and proper with Theresa. But maybe it was for the best. He didn't really want Theresa hanging out with him and Trey these days. And with Eddie – it made things simpler if they just didn't see each other. Yeah, simpler.

Even if it meant losing one of the few things that had made his life bearable until now.