#amadnessofmuses

[pickabloodyside]

@amadnessofmuses

“Dude what the hell am I lookin’ at here? I dont know if I am more disturbed at the Sam doll or the pajamas. I do know I am gonna have to bleach my eyes so I never see this again.”

“You... don’t like the pajamas? I’m hurt, Dean, you’ve genuinely upset me. You know what I’m like when I get upset.”

[allofusandco]

D

with @amadnessofmuses

Benny, who runs a diner, finds a very strange kid raiding his kitchen.

Dean:

His heart beat in his chest, breath coming in short pants as his body slammed into something solid. He could feel the fear creeping up his spine, spreading over his skin, hairs standing up along his body in its wake. The light was bright in his eyes, blinding him, stinging until he closed them against it. His mind flashed to the first time it had happened. It had been the same then.

He’d been playing in the corn field when the noise has started, the same one that rang in his ears now, he’d run, heart beating so fast, terror propelling him through the rows and rows of corn that blocked his view. He’d run into the light, the same one that was receding behind his eyes. They were leaving again. Leaving him alone once more. Darkness always meant he was alone.

Shaking, the boy pushed himself into a crouching position, ready to run, eyes searching the tree line, taking in the surroundings. Woods, trees, swamp. There would be food this time, he could eat, he could make shelter but there would be predictors, there was always predators. Panting softly, he pushed himself to his feet; ears straining for any sound that would let him know where to go. He was silent as he stepped forward, bare feet making no sound on the muddy swamp floor. His brain told him to stay away from the water; his training said it wouldn’t be safe to drink anyways. Looking down at himself his eyes widened at what he was dressed in, jeans, ripped at the knee and coated in blood from a gash in his knee long since healed. A t-shirt with a band name he wasn’t sure he remembered any more, something itched in his mind, a tune, something foggy to couldn’t really get too. Usually they gave him more supplies than this, food for the first two days of survival while he got his bearings, small weapons, sometimes at least a knife, this time there was nothing.

The boy took a hesitant step forward, eyes turning up to the horizon, the sun was long since gone, it was late, the moon sitting in the peak of the sky. He had a few hours till the sun came up. He could stay awake till then, he’d stayed awake longer. He didn’t know if he could go that long without food, not as his stomach rumbled, the sound echoing over the hum of bugs, over the sound of music. Music? There had never been music before.

Cocking his head to the side he listened, eyes closed as he pinpointed where it was coming from as he cleared his mind, pushing out with his powers. It was easy enough to find the source of the sound, a radio, in the back of a kitchen, a diner with food. Even now he could smell it as his mind mapped him out a path to get there. No obstructions, a few humanoids but nothing he didn’t think he could take. They didn’t appear to have any weapons or powers, not like him.

Taking off at a run, he slid twice, bare feet slipping in the mud that splashed along his legs as he ran, mouth watering for the food he could smell. When he reached the diner his eyes scanned the small building, seeing two men out in front, as he snuck around the back through one of the doors, nose guiding him to the food.

Reaching out he grabbed the food by the handfuls, shoving it into his mouth as he eyed the men. He wished he could remember what he was eating, the taste, the flavor, it all stirred something in his mind behind the training, but he couldn’t care. He needed to eat and needed not to get caught but he could see the man turning around, green eyes wide as he took in the scene, mind mapping escape routes as he shoveled more food into his cheeks.

–––––

Benny:

Quiet sort of night, nothing special for mid-week, when he was busier at lunchtime anyway. Handful of regulars, the ones he knew by name and the ones who never spoke a word except to order the same thing every day, eyes cold because they didn’t want to be known. Couldn’t run a place like this as long as Benny had without learning when to leave someone the hell alone.

Probably time to turn the deep fryer, but Benny was sat at the bar chewing on a toothpick, hand curved around a mug of cooling coffee he’d have dearly liked to top up with a little bourbon, talking. Charlie Pitt, owner of the pawn shop just off fourth, talking as he so often did about Vietnam. Wasn’t a single word in his story that Benny hadn’t heard at least a dozen times but he never minded listening. And he was tired. Sort of tired that creeps up when nothing really happens or changes for a few years, wearing a man down.

“Saw him a couple of years later,” Charlie was saying. “Didn’t even recognize me. Junk, you know. Start on that shit to dull the memories and it eats your soul.” He drained his mug and Benny reached automatically for the coffee jug, topping it up. Glass washer finished its run and he returned to his place behind the counter to polish all the glasses before they dried too streaky. He adjusted the dial on the radio (good music on a weeknight, but during the day, Benny preferred to pick his own than play the cheesy pop the station preferred; nothing but holy rollers and talk back that put his teeth on edge on any other station he could tune to, just here).

“Benny,” Charlie said, and Benny raised an eyebrow. Something sharp in the man’s tone. “Got a rat in the kitchen.”

“No rats in my kitchen,” Benny said, shaking his head. “Could eat off the floor back there. Shut up before you put me out of business, Charlie.”

“Not that kinda rat,” Charlie said.

Benny turned to look. Stuck there like a deer in the headlights, barely visible behind the heat lamp he’d turned off an hour or more ago, was a kid. Benny didn’t have a whole lot of experience with them, but he’d have guessed he was about ten or twelve. Dirty face and hair, a t-shirt that looked too big for him, eyes wide, cheeks bulging like a chipmunk’s; hands still in the half cold basket of chips he’d made to tide himself over a little while back and forgotten about.

“Hey,” he said, putting down the glass. “Hey, kid. You’re not in trouble. Just…”

He didn’t look like some casual thief, the kids who occasionally broke in overnight looking (and failing) to steal liquor, pouring ketchup all over the place. Looked hungry.

He took a few halting steps towards the kitchen, palms up.

“You lost, kid? I can call someone for you.”

–––––

Dean:

There was a back door to his left, it led out into the swamp. There was the door to the kitchen, that led him out the front but it would take him past the man, so would the door he had come in. His only hope would be the back and he was sure that was what the man thought too. Shoving another handful of food into his mouth he swallowed down some of the others he had been chewing on. The man said he wasn’t in trouble, so had they.

What was curious was the way the light around the man showed, he showed blue, he showed good and he wanted to trust him but he didn’t know if he could. Maybe the monster in this round were different just to confuse him. Then again he looked just like a human not a monster. Giving himself a few more seconds to decide he took in the other man in the building the light around him shown in blue too, it would have helped if one was red, there was never good guys only the bad guys and the monsters.

Panting through his nose he took a step back, hands curling around as much food as he could get before he took off heading for the side door, hands forcing the soft food into his pockets. He could go back the way he came in. The path was clear and the route was safe, he could still see the energy lines he’d left behind when he came in. They would be easy enough to follow. he had to get past him, even if he was bigger than him. He had fought off bigger, that was when he had weapons however. This time he didn’t, all he had was his powers and food slick fingers as he tried to run past the guy, arms coming up to try and block him from touching him.

–––––

Benny:

There was that hospital. Next county, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t possible. Benny was pretty sure after a week or two of hospital food, even cold chips would taste pretty good. Long way to come, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t possible. Could even have been one from the… well, where they looked after kids who weren’t quite right in the noggin.

But no, he’d guessed that far too quick. Benny watched the kid’s eyes dart around the room, weighing up all threats and possibilities, including Benny himself, deciding he was better off heading back the way he came, where he at least knew the dangers. He was smart, quick. And slippery as hell. Something bad had happened to him, bad enough so he had honed his instincts, in a way no kid should ever have to.

But Benny was no slouch, and he was fast enough, despite his size. The race to the door was brief, but Benny had an arm around the kid’s waist and the door closed pretty damn quick. Still talking.

“Well, now, if you’re willin’ to stuff your pockets full of those nasty cold chips, wonder what you’d do for a basket of them, fresh and hot? Cook y’ up a burger, maybe, get y’ a chocolate shake.” Give him time to… well, Benny didn’t know quite what, call the police, maybe?

Or not. No, just get him talking, see if he could figure a few things out.

“Or a can of coke. You tell me. Even got some pecan pie, for dessert.”

He felt the resistance let up, and pulled away just far enough to see the kid’s face properly. He was filthy. Hands, face, his hair. If he was on the run from someone he had been for a while.

“Y’can call me Benny,” Benny said. “You got a name, chief?”

He turned on the deep fryer again; wouldn’t take long to be ready.

–––––

Dean:

The kid was shocked when the man’s arms came around him the door closing before he had ever gotten a chance to get close to it. He hadn’t expected the man to move that fast. It wouldn’t matter if he used his mind on him but he at least knew that physically beating him was out of the picture. Instead he stood where the man left him, breathing slow and even as he concentrated on him. He sounded like he was telling the truth, he sounded like he did want to feed him but he wasn’t sure.

Closing his eyes for the briefest of seconds he focused on the part of his mind that could read people, that could read their energies. When green eyes opened again he could see colors around the man, the way his own energy and the man’s mingled, his own trusted him. Something about the colors and feel of him said he was good. He showed in colors of blues and purples and not in reds and yellows that made him a bad man.

Blinking, he took a step back, head cocking slightly to the side as he reached into his pocket pulling out the food he had been eating and offering it back to the guy. His stomach growled and it took everything he had not to eat the cold chips. That was what the man had called them.

“Chips,” he echoed the word and the food back to him.  He didn’t want them if he could have better. He didn’t want chips if there was pie.

“Pie,” he added. Something about he word he remembered. Something about it made him want to smile inside. He didn’t know why and he couldn’t find a memory to put behind it but he wanted it.

–––––

Benny:

Such a strange kid. Benny mighta thought he was one egg short of a dozen, if not for those eyes. But he took the cold chips (kid needed some clean clothes, who had a son this size?), and tossed them in the trash.

“Strictly speaking,” he said, ushering the kid to a table, “pie is dessert, and dessert comes after. But somehow I don’t think anyone’s gonna stop us. G’night, Charlie,” he said, as his friend left, last one for the night. He locked the door and flipped over the closed sign. On the counter was a platter with two-thirds of a pecan pie Benny had made only yesterday. He cut a double-sized slice, added a scoop of ice cream for kicks, and set it down in front of the kid, with a dessert fork and a long-handled spoon.

“I’m Benny,” he said. “This is my place. So anything you want, long as I can make it, I’ll make it. Sure would like a name for you, though. Somethin’ I can call you, since ‘kid’ sounds a little rude.”

Not big on talking, though.

“And if there’s someone you think I should phone… mom or dad? Grandparents?” Something told Benny parents weren’t part of this picture, though what, he couldn’t have said. Maybe just the fact the kid was running around out there starving. He supposed if nothing else, he should call child services, though the thought made him ill; no kid had a great time once they were in the system, and it changed them. He scratched his head. Had to clean that little face up, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to get between the kid and his pie.

“Maybe I’ll join you.”

He cut himself a slice as well, and sat again.

“So. You ready to tell me? Your name? Or am I gonna have to make something up?”

–––––

Dean:

The kid watched every move the man made every step, every move of his hand, every turn and every breath. He watched as he cut the pie and put something cold and wet looking on top of it and then as he got himself the same thing. He wanted to eat it but he had eaten bad things before and he didn’t want this to be a thing. He didn’t want to deal with that again. He could still remember the pain in his stomach, the way he had curled up on the ground unable to move, they’d had to pull him out of the training earlier than he should have been and he had missed his reward. He didn’t like it when he didn’t get his reward.

So he waited, waited with wide green eyes watching the man carefully, fingers twitching on the table beside his fork as he waited for Benny to eat his. When he did, once the man swallowed his bite he dove into his own, fork in the center of his curled fist. He pushed at the stuff on top watching as it slid off the side of the pie and onto the plate below. When it was gone he dove into the pie scooping up half of it at once and shoveling it into his mouth, cheeks bulging as he tried to get it down as fast as he could. He didn’t know when Benny would change his mind and take it back.

With his other hand he held out his arm, to show it to the man who had asked his name. On the inside of his left arm just an inch or so below his elbow was a single letter. D.

“D” he offered, voice a little gruff as he stuffed another large bite of pie into his mouth, working on this one just a little slower than the first.

–––––

Benny:

Benny remembered back in elementary school; hit and miss affair, out here, it always had been, some kids showing up on the regular, some making an appearance once or twice a week, many without shoes. The church brought school lunches for the poor kids, and some of them you’d see eat so fast they couldn’t have tasted a damn thing, like if they didn’t do that someone else might come and take it (and knowing some of their older brothers and sisters, sometimes that was the plain and simple truth of it).

“Slow down,” he said. “You’re gonna do yourself an injury.” He stood and brought the rest of the pie down to put on the table. “All yours, much as you like. I ain’t gonna take it, hell, I made it. And I can make another one.”

At last that arm uncurled. Benny almost recoiled. What kind of a monster tattooed a little kid like that?

“Uh-huh,” he said, scratching his chin, and trying not to betray the horror he felt. Would you have to hold a kid down, to do that? Kid seemed kinda stoic. Maybe not. “D. Big D. Yeah, okay, D. Look at that. Now I know your name and you know mine, we’re friends. Time to celebrate with some more pie.”

He couldn’t call child services. He couldn’t do something that might end with this poor kid being handed back to folks who’d mark his skin like that when he was barely old enough for long pants. Benny watched for a while. Real food would be smarter but he wasn’t gonna argue the point.

“Maybe now we’re friends you wanna tell me a little bit about yourself,” he said. “Like, maybe we could play a game. You tell me the first thing you remember seein’ when you woke up this morning.”

… yeah, nice try, Benny.

“Or the last thing you remember when you went to sleep last night. Your pick.”

–––––

Dean:

D’s eyes went wide when the rest of the pie was sat in front of him and he slowed down even more swallowing the large bite in his mouth and filling it without a second thought with another mouthful. The man talked and D listened. He liked the way the man’s words matched up with the way his aura moved around them. He could tell he was being honest, the blue swirls at the back of each word indicated that he was being truthful, the bubbles matched.

When the bright men had done this to him he hadn’t let them know that he could tell this,  whenever they said something to him, whenever ever they would lie the colors around them would change, their words turning a nasty yellow green color.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled around a mouthful of pie. Pushing himself up in the chair he leaned forward eyes on Benny as his tongue peaked out from between his lips. He leaned down licking the top of the other pie before stabbing his fork into the center of it a snarled Mine leaving his lips.

He knew the man didn’t intend to take it but he had to just so no others showed up to take it from him. Returning to his seat he stayed poised ready to strike as he used his hands to eat the pie, licking it from his fingers.

“They’ll come back,” he added softly. He didn’t know what the purpose of this test was or why he was here without fighting but he knew they would be back. They always came back.

Leaning down under the table from his chair, mouth still full of pie he let his eyes scan the sky for their lights, when he didn’t see them he sat back up, stuffing his face with more pie. He wanted to answer the man’s question, he wanted to show him what he saw last night when he went to bed, what he saw when he got up.

“Wanna see?” He asked moving so he could stand up on the chair and then onto the table, steps light and easy, dirty bare feet stepping carefully over the plates of pie until he was face to face with Benny. Narrowing his green eyes he could feel them roll to the back of his head, vision going dark as he sent the man an image of his cell from the night before. The small cell was all glass, he knew it because he had seen it from the outside, from the inside however it was all white, nothing but white creating the illusion that it stretched for ever when in reality it was only a few feet.  The next image was the first one he remembered when he had been dropped from the light above him and into the dark swamp, the view of his own restaurant looming in the background.

Pulling away from the man’s mind he stood there panting as he came back from the vision, chest heaving as he panted in small gasp of air, he could still feel the sharp pain in his head as he moved over the table and back to his seat. Reaching up for more pie he shoved some in his mouth, hand wiping the blood from his nose like it was nothing out of the normal. For him it wasn’t, this time it wasn’t even bad. Next time it would be easier because he wouldn’t have to forge a link with the man’s mind.

–––––

Benny:

Benny had a vague idea that it was a really bad idea to let a kid stuff his face with nothing but pie, but he didn’t want to walk away and make something else, either. Besides, rough day, apparently. Maybe he’d try for something green and leafy tomorrow. He’d come up with something that might appeal. Never saw a kid turn down a burger and fries.

He didn’t laugh when D – was he really gonna call the kid D? – licked the pie. This was a kid who’d learned to fight for his food, and it worried Benny too much to let him so much as crack a smile.

“Y’know, folks around here like my cooking, but I ain’t never seen someone appreciate it with this much gusto,” he said, angling his head to work out what the damn hell the kid was doing under the table. He’d never felt so far out of his depths before. He sat up straight again. Who did he know, who knew about kids? The woman who was always comin’ by asking’ him to go to one church thing or another; she had kids. Benny didn’t want to call, though, because she had some funny ideas about him, too. Or she might call the cops.

“See what?” he asked. It was unsettling, to suddenly find himself so close; D’s eyes were huge and a bright green Benny wasn’t sure he’d seen anywhere before, save maybe on a cat. He startled as they rolled back. Seizure? Benny wanted to reach out, try to catch him before he fell, but he was overcome, suddenly.

He couldn’t move, not until it was done. Couldn’t make much sense of the first, but something told him there wasn’t much sense to make of it, either. The second one was clear enough. But more to the point; how the hell had the hid even done that?

Benny was badly shaken. Always figured on his being a practical sort of fellow, not prone to flights of fancy, never really believed in anything he couldn’t see with his own eyes. But that – his head wanted him to believe it was a hospital, somewhere, that same hospital he’d been thinking on before. But he didn’t believe that. Couldn’t even force himself to believe that. He just sat, pale and still as a ghost, as D tucked into his pie again.

When he could force himself to, he moved to the counter to fetch some paper napkins, and placed them on the table alongside D’s plate.

“Your nose,” he said, though it didn’t seem to be bugging the kid none. Benny felt like he was losing his mind, the images he’d seen… no, it wasn’t that. This was all about the way he’d seen them. This was all about the fact that a kid with bare feet and pie all over his dirty face had pushed those pictures into his mind.

“Seems to me we gotta do something to keep you safe, Big D,” said Benny, hating the way his voice sounded thread, low as it was. His hands shook slightly. He was exhausted, suddenly, and needed to sleep. Was that his mind stepping in to protect him or had that brief link really worn him out so bad?

“Reckon you should stay here,” he said, crossing his arms on the table so his hands wouldn’t shake. “I don’t know who the hell’s after you, kiddo, but I don’t guess we should let them find you. You can’t run around out there.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “My place is out the back. I got a couch, we can make you up a bed. I guess you ain’t slept anywhere that comfy in a while.” He only hoped the kid slept at all.

–––––

Dean:

D was focused on the pie, the one on his plate until it was gone and then the one in the pan he was tugging closer and eating with just as much vigor as he had the first piece. He wasn’t worried about the man and what he had done. It had been done to him and he was still alive. He didn’t even think twice about what it could be doing to Benny and how it could be affecting him. It hurt, that was part of the process but that didn’t mean he should worry, Benny would be fine. At least he thought that he would.

He watched Benny carefully with curious green eyes, leaning over slightly in his seat to see around him at what he was pointing his thumb at. He didn’t see anything back there but the door and he wasn’t sure what Benny was talking about, he knew he was safe and didn’t mean him harm but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a little weird.

Swallowing the mouthful of pie he was working on he leaned back into his seat, eyes fixed one again on Benny, head tilted slightly to the side as he played his words over in his mind again. “What’s a couch?”

–––––

Benny:

Trying to have a regular conversation with this kid was like trying to argue with a funhouse mirror. Benny didn’t know which way was up. Though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know, either. He felt a tremor in his hand, and watched Dean continue to eat like the laws of the universe didn’t just get beat all the way out of shape.

“A couch is… like what you’re sitting on, that bench, only it’s soft. You can sit on it, or you can stretch out to sleep. I’ll find you a soft blanket, too, that’ll keep you warm and comfortable. Pillow to rest your head. You can have a bath in the morning, wash some of that dirt off you. And we’ll figure out what to do next.”

And he’d cook a good breakfast, or this kid was going to be running around on a sugar high for days, which might not be the best considering his powers.

“You can have some more pie tomorrow,” Benny promised. “But you must be beat.” Had to be, the pictures he’d put in Benny’s head. Benny clenched his hands into fists and splayed them out again, working out the tremor.

–––––

Dean:

D thought that a couch sounded like fun, some place soft to stretch out. He almost felt like he remembered a couch before but he didn’t know where he would have seen it. Shoving the last bite of pie in his mouth he dropped his licked his fingers clean before wiping them on his pants and looking at the man again when he said he was beat.

Wrinkling his face up, he looked around ducking down once again to look out the window at the sky before letting out a laugh. “You haven’t beat me,” he laughed.

“If I was beat they would have come, I’m not beat yet,” he added voice serious as he looked at Benny. Benny seemed nice but he didn’t seem to understand what was going on here. Somewhere there was something to battle, something he had to fight. That was how it always went. He got put on a planet and had to fight, Benny was saying he was beat but he wasn’t beat yet.

–––––

Benny:

Benny blinked at D, and glanced at the window, trying to understand what the kid was lookin’ at. Beat. Beat, As in hurt, maybe, or like he didn’t win, or…

“Naw, kid. Beat, as in tired, y’know. Y’feelin’ tired?”

Jesus, maybe the kid didn’t even sleep. Benny tried to think through the images that were still swirling in his head, but his conscious mind seemed to be trying to eliminate them like the remainder of bad dreams in the morning light. Did he see anything that said D even slept? The blinding disorientation of finding himself somewhere unexpected… if he got shifted all over the ass end of the galaxy and back again every time he closed his eyes, he might not want to sleep.

“D… you ever close your eyes, and…” This was absurd. “Let your body be still for a few hours, maybe you get to dream about a pretty girl… wake up with the sun out. Wake up in the same place, like?” How did you explain sleeping to someone who didn’t? Benny hoped he was wrong. If there had ever been a kid who needed a good night’s sleep, it was this kid right here.

–––––

Dean:

D watched as Benny struggled to explain something to him. Did he ever close his eyes and see pretty girls? Did he close them and open them in the same place? He had closed his eyes plenty of times and seen people. It was a thing he was trained to do. The men had shown him how.

                   “I see people all the time when I close my eyes.”

He wasn’t sure what the man was trying to tell him about in this world. Maybe it was some kind of power that Benny had. Sitting up straight, he closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the darkness, searching out the nearest mind past Benny’s, searching for a girl. As he walked through the blackness he could see a speck of white coming closer, the neon outline the trees and things around him took coming into view as he walked around the space outside f the building he was in.

                  “There’s a girl down the road. She’s pretty; she’s in stasis with                   a man. He’s in a deeper stasis then her. They don’t have any                   weapons in the house. They have a smaller girl. She’s alone in                   her room and the window is open.”

He opened his eyes then, a grin spreading over his lips as he looked at Benny, leaning in over the table some, a predator ready to pounce.

                   “Do you want me to catch her for you?”

–––––

Benny:

Benny watched in rapt fascination as D closed his eyes, focusing, and began to speak. Might as well have been a different language, but Benny got there eventually. Stasis – sleep. He was seeing June and her husband, and their girl. The words ‘no weapons in the house’ gave him a chill, but he didn’t think the kid was malicious.

He reached out a hand, and patted D’s hand. “You don’t need to catch anyone,” he said, feeling overwhelmingly sad. Was this kid just bending over backwards to please him, or was that what he’d been trained to do? And trained by who? Benny’s mind went to government conspiracy easily enough, but this seemed infinitely stranger than that. If the government couldn’t get their shit together to fix a damn street sign, he didn’t think they could be smart enough to manage this, either.

“Stasis,” he repeated. “I guess that’s what I mean when I say sleep. Do you go into stasis, Big D? ’cause that’s what I meant about the couch. It’s good for you. Gives your mind a rest, and your body, too. I ain’t gonna let anyone take you, kid. Not from my house.” As if there was a damn thing he could do about it. He offered his hand.

~complete~

[allofusandco]

How they hangin’?

with @amadnessofmuses

Amara brought back Benny instead of Mary.

Benny:

"How they hangin', chief?"

–––––

Dean:

Dean looked up more than a little shocked to see the vampire in front of him. It had been a while, not to mention how the hell he was even back.

“Hey man,” he offered, a grin curling at the edges of his lips as he stepped closer to the vampire, arms coming up  to pull him into a hug.

“How’d your ass get outta Purgatory this time?”

–––––

Benny:

Dean seemed bigger than Benny remembered; no less strong, though. Felt kinda good to be close again, if just for now. He grinned over Dean's shoulder before he pulled away gently. Smelled too good, and Benny needed to eat. "No clue, hoss. Fighting a pair of those black-blooded things that like your angel so well, rolled down a hill and hit my grave like a cannon ball. Tryin' not to wonder too much, truth be told."

–––––

Dean:

Dean stepped back, arms crossing over his chest as he listened to the vampire talk. It wasn’t shocking, not really, not as many times as he had seen people come back from the dead. Hell him and Sam seemed to have a multi pass back from the dead, stood to reason Benny could get himself a free ticket.

“You still a…” he paused hands coming up to make a gesture of two fangs flipping from his mouth. It was only right that he asked, better to know for sure than to assumed and get his ass eaten. He wasn’t too keen on dying at the hands of a vampire when he had only just gone against the darkness a few months back and then the men of letters to get Sam back.

“Vampirate?”  He added with a grin.

–––––

Benny:

Benny snickered to himself, shaking his head. “Not so much a pirate. Not sure I could really go back to that life. Missin’ the water, though.” There wasn’t enough water in Purgatory. Just enough to make you crave it. “But as to the rest…”

He gave Dean a grimace, and let his teeth descend, like a damn shark.

“Yeah, still intact.” And hungry. It was easier in Purgatory, in a way. Mighta wanted blood but he didn’t crave it, didn’t need it the same way.

He looked around. No clue where they were. “Say, uh… you know where we are? Could use a drink.” Every kind of drink. Mostly, red and warm, and not from a person, because he sure as shit didn’t want to start that again. It’d been hard enough to wean himself off it for Andrea’s sake.

–––––

Dean:

Dean nodded, watching the teeth descend from the man’s mouth his own gums aching, he knew that feeling, the burning that came first, then the sting of pain as they pushed through your gums, then relief, he’d felt briefly once back when Sammy had been soulless and let him get turned.

“Yeah, currently we’re about 100 miles in the wrong direction from home and after what I just went through I could use a waterin’ hole,” he offered with a grin as he reached out to drop his hand to the vamps shoulder.

“We gotta get us a car though cause I didn’t think I would need mine when I came here,” he added.

He could still feel the shock of the last hour rattling around in his soul, he’d come here with nothing but the clothes on his back and around a million souls in his body, he’d come here to die and somehow he’d saved the world, fixed the dying sun got God and his terrifying sister back together and now it was evening and here was Benny.

Sam would be livid but Benny was his biggest regret, he’d made a promise to help him and he’d let him down, next to not being able to save Adam and dragging Sammy back into this life he was his biggest regret. He was almost shocked that Amara had picked up on that.

Turning towards the parking lot of the small park he started them out towards almost few cars near the back. “We need to get you something to eat first?” He asked not sure he was ready to lob the man’s head off before he’d even gotten a chance to drink with him. Plus he didn’t have any weapons on him.

–––––

Benny:

The first time anyone had touched him without violence on their mind in a damn long time. Benny grinned, feeling his eyes crinkle with a smile he hadn’t worn since he’d bid farewell to Sam and his hirsute friend by the portal some years back.

There was a whole lot of this that didn’t make sense, though. Far as he knew Dean didn’t have a home, unless he was referring to Sam. And there didn’t seem to be an immediate explanation for why the hell he was out here almost in the middle of nowhere by himself, either, or what that expression might mean. Looked like he’d seen a ghost, and though Benny himself probably fit the bill right there, looked like that expression predated his sudden reappearance by a good minute or two, at least.

“Watering hole sounds good,” he agreed, with a nod. More alert to danger than he needed to be but that was the way of things, after a few years waging a one-man war; he doubted he’d trust the peace out here too well for a while yet. “Seems we got some catching up to do.”

Older cars were easier to hotwire, of course. No electronics to blow up, none of that fancy GPS crud sending out smoke signals to security companies. Benny found a likely candidate and pointed it out to Dean.

“Admit I’m a mite curious, chief. Don’t think I ever heard you call a place home, before.” He scanned the horizon, rapidly darkening. Dusk, then. For a moment he’d thought it might be dawn. Everything seemed quiet. Unusually quiet, truth be told, but then he could just be drawing on his own paranoia. Not like he knew what was usual.

“Where are we? Don’t get how I got here, much less why I’d find myself in spittin’ distance of you. Where’d you bury me? Better question, Dean, why didn’t you burn me?” Had to have been buried or he couldn’t be back.

–––––

Dean:

Dean looked around, watching for families and stuff in the small parking lot behind the garden they had been in. “Honestly man, that’s ah, there’s a lotta questions I can’t answer there,” he said, looking around as he pulled on the door handle, finding it locked before deciding to just break the window. The sooner they got out of there the better.

“Home,” he said as he got in the car after clearing the glass from the seat, “would be the bunker, this men of letters hunter place Sammy and I found a while back,” he explained as he pulled out the wires from under the steering wheel so he could hot wire the thing to life.

“It’s got a few rooms, torture dungeon, kitchen, bathroom with endless and I am talking endless hot water with the most magnificent water pressure you have ever felt,” he said looking over to flash Benny a grin as the car reared to life.

It took him 30 seconds tops to get it out of the parking lot, the only hint that it was ever been there a small pile of glass left in its wake. He didn’t think anyone would be looking for it, not for a few days at least, not with the whole end of days thing that was just happening. Everyone should be curled up at home with their families, at least he wished he’d been.

“As far as you being here,” he paused, relaxing slightly as he drove taking a back roads he knew well. “I don’t honestly know, the evil we were fighting seemed to get into her head that you would be a good idea to bring back,” he offered with a small shrug as he dug around in his pocket for his phone so he could call Sammy, disappointed when it went to voicemail.

“And I gotta tell you man, I don’t know if the state of your body woulda made any difference with this one. Actually curiously, you still all,” he gestured to his own mouth, fingers flipping down to make mock fangs as he grinned. He wouldn’t have been surprised either way, leaving him a vampire would have appealed to Amara’s since of humor, then again so would making him human.

He felt good, real good, could use a drink but the adrenaline was still pumping through his veins, Benny was riding shot gun, they were heading home and the world was once again safe. Actually he felt better than he had in long while.

–––––

Benny:

Benny eased himself into the passenger seat as soon as Dean had the door open. Felt good to just be near him, truth be told, after knowing he’d never see the man again. Wasn’t too sure how he felt about being back here, though, topside. Definitely wasn’t sure how he felt about someone choosing him to bring back.

“Someone evil decided it’d be a good idea to drag my bones topside again and you ain’t got a worry in the world? Getting’ soft on me, Dean-o?” No, he didn’t look soft. If anything he looked even harder than he had. And tired beyond the measuring of it, despite the smile gracing his lips, and the crinkles around his green eyes. “Gimme a heads-up before we set foot in your torture dungeon.” Which, well. Every home should have one, still on the rare side, though.

Benny chuckled. “Don’t think that’s something that’s just gonna go away, Dean,” he said. Though it was strange that he wasn’t starving hungry the moment he’d come back from purgatory. Definitely a pickle. Benny watched out the window. No one around. Streets were quiet. He frowned. “Not sure I even wanna know what I just stepped into, Dean, but everything’s a little quieter than I remember.”

He stretched his jaw, and froze.

No familiar ache, not in his gums or in the hinge of his jaw, no dry throat. He slipped a finger into his mouth, rubbing at his gums. Nothing.

“Blow me down,” he said, quietly. But no, it wasn’t possible. He couldn’t be human. And if something evil brought him back human, what the hell did that say about him.

“Or maybe not,” he said, trying to focus his attention outwards. He could hear the hum of the car (more than a hum; thing needed some serious work). He could hear the tires on the blacktop. But out there, he could barely hear a thing, even if he pushed. And in the dying light, he could barely see a thing that wasn’t lit up by the car headlights, or a street lamp. Five years ago he could have found Dean by smell alone, and now there was just the hint of aftershave, and the leather of his jacket.

“Dean, I think I’m human,” he said, suddenly recognizing the almost forgotten pain in his stomach that meant he was hungry, actually hungry, for food, and not for blood. “What the hell would go on and bring me back human?” He pressed his hand to his stomach and open the glove compartment.

A switchblade fell into his hand. Good sort of thing to keep. Nothing to eat, though.

–––––

Dean:

“What?” Dean said looking over at Benny, eyebrows knitted at he tried to take in what he was saying. He was human. That was a twist he hadn’t seen coming. Actually he wasn’t even all that shocked. He should have been but he wasn’t. it seemed like something Amara would do. Bring a vampire back from purgatory and drop him in a human vessel. It would make things easier yet at the same time he was sure it was going to make them a whole lot harder. When had Benny last been human.

Slowing down at a stop Dean reached up hands running down his face as he took in a deep breath. This was so weird and so much stuff he didn’t think that he would be dealing with. Once again he was supposed to be dead, he was supposed to be done with all this and yet here he was living and worrying about something else. “I want to say I am surprised but I know the big bad that brought you back and she was a little weird so honestly dude, I am not as shocked as I should be,” he admitted.

About a quarter of a mile down the road he pulled into the parking lot of a little bar. It looked old, a little dirty, had some weird giant moose in the front lawn, it didn’t speak much for what the inside of the place would look like but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He needed a couple shots of whiskey, need to call Sam and he needed some bar fries.

“I promise you man once we get in here and I get something liquid and ready to kill my liver I will give you the full story. Bunker, bad evil, you being back, whole nine,” he explained as he turned off the car and got out.

“Gotta be honest though, I’m glad to see you man,” he added clapping the man on the back as they made their way inside the small bar. The name fit it, Joe’s Older than Dirt, It looked it.

–––––

Benny:

Benny didn’t know who he was, if he wasn’t a vampire. The hell was he supposed to do – get a job? Well. Yeah. He’d done that as a vampire, too, but it wasn’t for the dough. He tried to ignoring the way his heart hammered away in his chest – it wasn’t easy.

“Yeah, can’t wait to hear all about it, chief. Sounds like a hell of a funny lady. I’m sure chuckling over here.” If silently spiraling counted as chuckling. “Hell of a funny lady.”

As he walked from the car to the steps up the bar, he felt it again, that everything was too quiet. But it wasn’t; he could sense it, now. He was just deaf: after having his senses dialed up so high for so long he felt like he wasn’t getting enough information. His vision, his hearing, even his nose (but hell, given the disproportionate number of unpleasant smells in the world, that might have been a blessing).

He was so focused on that, he might have missed Dean clapping him on the back.

Yeah, it was nice to see Dean, too, and maybe, without the fangs, Benny could stick around a while, this time. Could maybe even help. He’d sure as shit feel a hell of a lot better about the new situation if he was real heavily armed. “Feeling’s mutual.” Dean had been as much like a brother as Benny had ever known, and his only friend in more years than he cared to admit.

“Goddamn, my liver,” he grumbled, deflecting, as he followed Dean inside. “I hope at least your little friend got me a fresh one. I doubt the other one was going to last too long even before I went and got myself turned.”

He glanced at the bar – no, he didn’t want to sit up there, too open. Dean had too much to talk about that they didn’t generally let people in on. There were a couple of booths at either end.

“Bourbon, make ’em good ones,” he said, to the bartender, who looked just about as old as the bar he was serving, and might well have been Jo himself. “Unless you wanna save us a trip or two, and hand over a bottle.”

–––––

Dean:

Benny didn’t look like he wasn’t doing good and Dean knew the look on the man’s face well. He’d seen it on Sam, he’d seen it on other hunters, hell he’d even seen that same look in the mirror more times than he could count. He would even put money on it being the same look on his face right now. It was the face of a person who had just been though something, something they’d never thought they were coming back from only to be tossed back into the fray they never thought they’d see again. Hell had to be pretty damn confusing for the man, he knew it would be for him. He knew when he dug his way from his grave and out into the sweltering heat of the day that he’d had the same look.

Clapping the man on the back at the bar, he pulled out his wallet, why he hadn’t it he wasn’t sure, stroke of luck really, everything else he’d thought to leave behind with Sam. He guessed maybe the wallet was just habit. He wished he kept a gun and a call phone too. Maybe next time he would. Dead man’s survival kit. He was starting to need that more and more these days.

Pulling out a few bills he left them for the man who seemed more keen on tossing them a bottle when there was green involved than he had when it had been a hopeful request. He couldn’t blame him. Picking up and bottle and the two glasses he led them to a back portion of the bar. It was the weirdest little bar he had been in that was for sure. It looked like it might have been a house at one time and the walls were covered in dead animals of every kind. Moose, dear, elk, owls, and hell there was even a bear skin rug tacked to the ceiling just over the couch he was about to park his happy ass on.

“Might have to put this bar on the top ten weirdest I have run into,” he offered. Glasses clinking on the wooden table as he sat them down, filling them each with some whiskey. He was already drinking half of his own down with a hiss as he passed Benny’s over.

“I don’t even know where to start with this man,” he offered as he leaned back on the couch, hand scrubbing down his face. Did he started with why he took the Mark, did he start with the bunker, did he start with how this was all just one long string of bad luck and bad decisions?

Finishing off his glass he filled it up a second time, scooting the whiskey bottle Benny’s way so he could fill his up again when he was done.

“You ever hear of the Mark of Cain?” He asked as he looked over at the man.

–––––

Benny:

“Well, Dean, you ain’t spent enough time in the Bayou,” Benny said. His heart was beating so fast, so heavy, so steady, that it was hard to focus on much else. And he had no right memory of what it’d been like before, so it was impossible to guess if it was normal or not. “Ain’t seen nothing until you seen a ten-foot alligator mounted on the ceiling like a damn canoe.” He took the glass and threw it back, hard and fast, no mind for the fact it’d been five years since he’d tasted a drop and almost sixty, now, since he’d last had to suffer a human tolerance for the stuff. He needed something to calm the itch, and the low-grade panic, and this would have to do.

Dean looked like shit, but then, he often did. Beat up and chewed up and spat out again and again, he had that bone-deep tiredness about him. In a whole other way he looked so damn good it was hard to look at him. He’d beaten things back. Benny gave a lopsided grin.

If he was gonna be stuck human for a time, what better guide could he have asked for?

“I was raised Baptist, Dean, they’re kinda fanatical about th’Old Testament. Cain was the first murderer, killed his brother. God marked him… can’t remember too much. He was thrown out of home, cursed to walk the earth… think the brother’s blood poisoned his land, too. Damn, I remember more’n I thought.” He poured himself another drink, this time not bothering to guess at what a regular pour was. “I was never much of a believer, but until mama passed, I went to church regular enough. Y’wanna hear something funny? The things in purgatory – there they are, halfway to hell, and most of if them still don’t believe in Him.”

Of course, now he let himself think about it, he was probably going to find out it was a soul-eating parasite from biblical times and Dean had just spent a year fighting the damn thing on the moon.

“Alright, go on, then. Tell me the real version.”

–––––

Dean:

Dean couldn’t help a small grin as Benny walked through what he knew about Cain and Able, he was spot on with most of it. Beside for the mark part, not that he even thought most people even knew about that. It seemed to be one of those things that was omitted from the Bible, might not have been a problem for him if he had read it.

“You know what Man I don’t even know if that was where I needed to start either but you’ve got it on the Cain and Able part, that much I know to be true.

Reaching up Dean scrubbed his hand down his face. “Long story short, Metatron the scribe of God, got a big head, decided to close up Heaven and kicked all the angels to Earth. I needed a way to kill him and a demon that Sam and I accidentally stitched back together that was gonna take over Hell so I took this Mark of Cain. As it turned out, it was the thing that made the Devil evil cause it was God’s evil sister Amara and the mark was just a way to keep her locked up. Sammy and Cas removed the Mark from my arm in turn letting her out and free on the world,”

“ Yesterday we got together with Lucifer who is back out of his cage, God who decided to make a surprise appearance, the King of Hell and some reaper that I think is stepping in as Death since I may have accidentally killed him too in order to fill me up with a crap ton of souls and ship me off as a bomb to kill Amara. Turns out all she wanted was hang out time with her brother and since by some miracle of events she thinks I brokered that she cleared the souls from my body, turned into some weird smoke along with God and poofed from Earth and… left me you as my booty prize,“ he offered putting out the whole long story in one go.

He knew there would be questions, hell how could there not be, he would have been ripe with them. Reaching out he grabbed the bottle of whiskey and filled his glass up for another go.

–––––

Benny:

Benny listened, or tried to; mostly just stared, and plucked out the parts that he could make a lick of sense out of. Yeah, he mostly just stared, and wondered how the hell Dean was even still alive, kind of fucked up life he led; and he wondered how he, himself, was supposed to walk around without a lick of power, knowing how dangerous it was.

Maybe he needed to get himself turned. Maybe as a vampire he was an abomination, a liability, a monster, whatever the hell else Dean saw when he looked at him; but at least he could help.

He opened his mouth to respond, and thought better of it, throwing back his drink instead, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and putting the glass on the table with a firm thud. In a moment, he thought better of it and reached for the bottle again.

“So,” he said, when he’d poured a good measure. “First up – anyone else told me any ol’ bit of that story I’d say they were crazier than a shithouse rat. But you ain’t anyone else,” he admitted, shaking his head. “So I gotta do the thing where I just nod and act like that’s just any ol’ Thursday for you. Course, the craziest bit is where I’m any damn kinda prize.” He shook his head. “But I’m glad you made it through – again – and when all of this settles in my head a little I might ask you a thing or two. Like for example how the hell you got yourself mixed up with god and the devil. But it can wait.” He stared at a deep scar on the table. “God’s got a sister? Catholics’ll love that.”

He held the glass between his hands, warming the liquor.

“On the one hand I think I maybe oughtta see what I can do about hitchin’ a ride home,” he said. “But maybe I’ll wait a little while, I could follow you for a bit. Make sure you don’t have any more deities on your ass, maybe see what I can do about distracting you from any life-threatening dumbassery. Say, you manage to get your friend Lucifer back into his cage where he belongs?”

No harm in hope.

–––––

Dean:

Dean reached up, hands scrubbing down his face after the last sip of whiskey was drained from his glass. He was tired and pretty sure his insides were still churning from the souls. He felt like he could sleep for a couple of weeks and then use an hour long shower and a vacation. Hell retirement was suddenly looking like a viable option at this point as well. Digging the heel of his hand into his eyes he let out a long sigh before looking over at Benny again.

He didn’t mind Benny’s offer to tag along with him for a while, hell he prolly should invite him back to the Bunker for a while they got the man settled. It was only fair right? He had made a promise to the vampire when they had been in Purgatory. He had promised to make his life easy, help him out when the going got tough and he had gone back on that. Hell he hadn’t just gone back on that he had ditched the dude for Sammy and moved on from there. In the end it had been his own fault that Benny had gone back to Purgatory. He had failed him and let him down. Dean made a mental note, this was his second chance to make things right with him and he was gonna stick to it this time.

After all Sammy could hardly get pissed this time, the man was human and Sammy wasn’t one for turning away humans now was he.

“I say we head home, set you up a place to stay in the bunker, we got a few extra rooms, see where that leads us. No rush in finding you some other place when I got a perfectly good home for a change,” he offered, putting the deal on the table, right between the bottle of whiskey and his glass. He wouldn’t force it, hell he couldn’t blame the man if he didn’t trust him this time. He didn’t know if he would have either. This time was different however, even if in his own mind. This time he would be here for Benny, whenever and wherever. It was the promise he was making to himself.

–––––

Benny:

Benny hoped the relief didn’t show on his face; getting used to being human wasn’t going to be easy, and he had a feeling it would be easier with a friendly face on hand. And weapons. He was going to have to learn to fight like a human again before he found his way in the world. He gave a slow nod, eyes on Dean’s face. He’d missed the man more than he’d ever let himself acknowledge. The green eyes, and the perpetual tiredness, boyish grin, all of it.

“Think that’s enough of a plan to be goin’ on,” he said, and raised the whiskey to his lips again. “Thanks, Dean.” Home sounded good; it had been a long damn time.

––

Benny didn’t plan to fall asleep in the front seat of Dean’s car, but he dozed. Something else he hadn’t done in a long time. In Purgatory, you always slept with one eye open and a weapon in your hand, or you risked not waking up at all, and Benny’s survival instincts had stayed sharp. It was briefly disorienting, to feel the relatively soft seat beneath him, the car moving over the blacktop.

He thought he’d been dreaming of the sea.

He shook himself the rest of the way awake, and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Sorry, hoss. Haven’t really slept in years. I think bein’ human’s gonna take some getting used to.” He could feel the hangover threatening the edges of his vision. He ducked his head to look out the window. Looked like a power plant, or some other utility, looming in the distance.

“So, this bunker of yours… I pictured a below-ground bolt hole without whole lot of room to stretch. I get the feelin’ now I might have been wrong.”

He glanced at Dean, looking pretty pleased with himself. The place was enormous, lit up somewhat spooky like by the sunset just creeping up over the horizon.

“Cas around?” he asked, innocently. He didn’t really feel like going another round with the angel, especially not now that he was human. Didn’t feel up to battling for attention, either, even if he’d never admit that he had been. “Sam expectin’ us? He know I’m human?”

–––––

Dean:

Dean looked at the bunker from the window. “I don’t know man,” he answered finally after letting Benny’s questions hang in the air between them for a few minutes or so.

“I don’t know what they went to do after I went off to die. Sam’s got my phone and effects I don’t know if he would come back here or not, I don’t see baby so I am gonna guess he’s not coming back here or he will and just hasn’t made it yet. As for Cas, who’d have thought you’d miss him so much,” he finished, flashing Benny a smirk as he got out of the car.

He was willing to bet the bunker was closed and was never more thankful for the spell Sammy had found and activated so all one of the two of them had to do was step over the threshold and it would open for them without the key. It wasn’t like the key was easy to carry around either and they had only found one. This was if Sammy had been there.

Dean made his way to the door, opening it and letting Benny in before stepping in behind him, the metal door swing shut with a whine and a thunk that echoed through the bunker. He had been wrong about the warding, all of it was still off. Amara had ruined that for them. It was something he would need to put back up, it also meant Sammy hadn’t been home yet.

“Welcome to the bunker,” he said grinning as he walked past Benny and down the steps, letting the human take everything in. “Sorry about the mess, he added, “End of the world planning gets messy,” he added looking up at Benny as he started trying to collect some of the bottles and junk they had all left around.

–––––

Benny:

“Didn’t miss him,” Benny grumbled. “AIn’t lookin’ to get myself smote, first night back on earth, that’s all.” Castiel had abandoned Dean in Purgatory, and no explanation would ever make Benny see it different. He didn’t appreciate Dean right. Benny decided to leave off a mini-tirade. They were probably still close. No need to piss anyone off.

The mess of the bunker was reassuring. Even with his senses human, and dulled, it smelled right; beer and whiskey, fast food that never quite went off, and more than anything else, the musty scent of magic and lore. Books and weapons and a rime of salt, cold consecrated iron. He felt himself relax, feeling better in here, and told himself that was the last of it. He needed to get himself in the game. He was no use to Dean feeling like he might get carried off by winged monkeys any minute. He had never been a weak man, and he wasn’t going to start now, just because he’d lost an enhancement or two along the way. He had work to do. On top of whatever Dean needed, he had to figure out why the hell he’d been brought back at all, let alone human.

“Nice place you got here, hoss,” he said, examining the label on a bottle of whiskey. He recognized it. Nothing special. There was half a bottle left, so Benny sniffed at a couple of clean-looking mugs and poured them each a good dram. He let his eyes wander over the papers and the notes. He didn’t understand a lot of it, at a glance, but there was a desperation he could have read in a whole other language.

“You went off thinkin’ you were a dead man,” he said, shaking his head. “If I could give you anything… I wish there was a world where you didn’t have to do that. You must be tired. Got a couch I can sack out on?”

–––––

Dean:

                   “I can do you better than a couch man.”

He was glad he could this time too. He could offer Benny a whole damn room if he wanted it. It wasn’t like the Bunker was on a shortage of them. Him and Sammy only occupied two of the 12 there were.

                    “This place used to be home to the Men of Letter’s, they were a                     group of fancy hunters that spent their time here researching everything                     magical. They got a couple of rooms in this place, 12 that we have                     found, who knows how many more on the floors we have yet to check                     out. We got a torture dungeon, a garage, a kitchen and showers with                     the best water pressure your ever gonna feel.”

It wasn’t five stars but for people like him and Benny it was damn close. Hell after he had gotten out of purgatory he had been happy for a motel mattress and he hadn’t been there half as long as Benny had. He was willing to bet once the dude was down on one he would be down for hours.

Reaching out he picked up the mug, tipping back the whiskey.

                     “Sam’s gonna be shocked to find out I’m not. Him and Cas both.”

He offered the last name with a smirk. He was sure Benny still held the events of Purgatory against the angel, hell why wouldn’t he. He and Benny had become friends; it was understandable that he had been pissed at Cas for ditching him. The thing was, he didn’t hold against Cas, not any more. Too much had happened between them.

                     “Come on.”

He finished off the whiskey and set the cup down with the others before making his way out of the war room, through the library and into the hall way that let to some of the rooms.

                      “The one around the corner is Sam’s, this one’s mine and if you want                       man, this is one is all yours.”

–––––

Benny:

Benny let out a low whistle. “Damn, hoss, I didn’t even think about a shower.” Simple luxury that Purgatory would never see. The thought of standing under that driving pressure was damn fine. Showers, and food, whiskey, and… an actual bed, a mattress. He shook his head, and grinned.

“Guess there’s a few advantages.” And pretty soon he’d find a way to consider the advantages of being human, as well. If he couldn’t… well, there was bound to be someone who would turn him back.

“Well,” he said. “I might hit the hay, then. Or take a shower and hit the hay. Rather not sleep in all this… Purgatory grime.” He pressed a hand to Dean’s shoulder, and patted his cheek. Fiercely fond. Hard to negotiate. He’d find his way. “You’re alive, Dean. Everything after this is a bonus, right?”

Green eyes and freckles. Benny took a moment to memorize them all again.

“G’night. Sleep tight.”

––

Benny spent at least half an hour under the streaming water, and Dean was right. It was hot, and powerful, massaging muscles that were sore in a way they hadn’t been since 1955. He lathered up and rinsed off and shampooed his hair until he couldn’t smell blood, or fire, or sulphur, until every scent he associated with Purgatory was gone. When he closed his eyes, he forced himself to think of New Orleans, or Elizabeth, anything but the rocks and dead trees that had been his home. By the time he dragged his sorry ass to bed he felt really and truly clean.

And ready.

He crawled naked under the blanket, and linked his hands beneath his head, staring at the ceiling. There were advantages to being human, and this was for certain one of them; he was sleeping only doors away from Dean, which couldn’t have happened before. He understood, he did. They’d been blood brothers, but that wasn’t the same as being friends. Outside of Purgatory they hadn’t made a whole lot of sense. Now, he could help. Hunt monsters. He felt weak. Didn’t mean he was weak, just different from before. He was still the man who drug sheet metal across the factory floor to build the boats that won the shores in World War II, and lumber before that. He didn’t have the sharp sense of a vampire, but that didn’t mean he was deaf. And he had a friend. Maybe more’n one, if Sam and Castiel could see past their crap.

If they could, he could.

Some time later, without knowing his eyes had fallen shut, Benny dropped off to sleep and untroubled dreams.

~complete~

[pickabloodyside]

✏ and matching tattoos. -Dean (AMadnessOfMuse)

send me ✎ + prompt & i’ll write you a 3-5 sentence drabble. – @amadnessofmuses

“Yes, love, matching tattoos: mine will say ‘king of hell’ and yours will say ‘property of the king of hell’, but they’ll be tasteful. A nice font, and all,” Crowley said, looking over the artwork on the walls.

Tattooing demons wasn’t easy, which was why they’d come somewhere Crowley knew they’d use the right inks, with the right ingredients, for longevity.

“Don’t look so appalled, love. You know how many demons would kill for a tramp stamp with my face on it? And you lost the bet, fair and square.”

[startstoweighonyou-blog]

✏ and cooking lessons. -Dean (AMadnessOfMuses)

send me ✎ + prompt & i’ll write you a 3-5 sentence drabble. – @amadnessofmuses

“Now, Dean, you’re beatin’ the shit out of that pastry like it done you wrong,” Benny said, shaking his head. “You gotta treat it gentle, let it come out of the oven flaky and crisp…”

He stood up close behind Dean, closer than he needed to, put his hands over Dean’s on the handles of the rolling pin. Gentle, firm, the way he wanted his hands on Dean. One gentle roll forward and he’d probably made his point pretty well, he thought, lips brushing over Dean’s ear.