Purgatory has still got its hold on Dean, has him running for his life, zigzagging among the tree trunks. His feet catching in spread out roots and dried out bushes. It has him turning on his heel to slice and dice every ugly mug, each monstrous figure, slitting throats of the creatures whose only fault is in their insatiable hunger for murder.
Dean swings his weapon. Its rock edge drives right into the chest of the attacker: a ghoul, a shape-shifter, or some other nasty—he's no longer sure what he's killing. He just knows decapitation works best. He swings again before the thing can shake the pain off, he aims for the throat, this time. One blow—the head comes off.
The scene gets quiet but for Dean's heaving. He lowers his weapon but never loosens his muscles. He does a slow three-sixty, scanning the perimeter.
"Clear, let's roll," he says to his companion.
But when he starts to walk, no footsteps follow.
"Benny?" he calls over his shoulder.
No answer. He turns around to face no one. His heart skips a beat.
"Benny!" he shouts, frantically sweeping over the woods. Retracing their steps to where they were ambushed. "Benny! Where the hell are you?"
He doesn't give a damn if monsters hear him. They can all come attacking for all he cares.
"Benny!" he can't stop calling as he threads farther back. "Benny!" He changes direction at the slightest rustle deep among the bushes. Back and forth and in circles until he no longer knows where he came from and where he is. "Benny!"
The trees blur all into one with the dark sky above them. And Benny's nowhere in sight.
"Please, whe—"
There's a weight on his shoulder, a touch of a hand that should have him jerking away, putting the guard up. But all it does is soothe him, with its steady motion up and down his arm.
"Benny?" Dean blurts, not sure if his lips are moving.
"I'm here, chéri," comes a whisper, the familiar voice, as lovely as a lullaby. "It's just a bad dream."
Dean leans into the warmth beside him, lifts a hand to feel for Benny's palm in the dark. It's right there, rubbing circles into his skin. When he opens his eyes, Benny's face is just inches from his, rested s just inches away from his, rested on a pillow.
"So glad I found you," Dean confesses in the half-asleep daze. Hot blush climbs up his cheeks before he's even finished the sentence.
He so hoped those stupid nightmares would finally let go of him, that he'd be free of the teeth and the claws, at last. They evolved instead. After all, teeth and claws ain't that scary anymore.
"Good thing you did," Benny says, his mouth curling into the softest smile. He turns his palm underneath Dean's to lock their fingers together. "Purgatory?"
"Yeah."
"So spooks and monsters, classic nightmare material."
Dean huff out a laugh. "Yeah."
Benny hums in compassion and they remain quiet for the longest moment, with Benny's thumb brushing the skin of his palm, his eyes—dark in the moonlight—tracing every inch of Dean's face. Dean doesn't dare take his eyes off him either. He's just found him, hasn't he? Even if it was just a nightmare he's reluctant to return to, even if it's childish to let the anxiety lingering just under his skin to steal his sleep, he'd rather take a little while longer, just to make sure that Benny is here and isn't going anywhere.
"It's—" Dean begins and trails off, his whisper weirdly loud in the silence of their bedroom.
He wants to tell him that it's not the monsters. That maybe, in a way, Purgatory wasn't all that bad. That he was damn lucky to get there in the first place, even if it meant tossing and turning to its tune to the end of his days. He wants to tell him that he'd take claws any day as longs as he's got him. That it's what was missing— But then, Benny knows that already, doesn't he?
"How do you do it?" Dean asks instead, earning himself a confused look.
"Do what?"
"You know, how come you don't have nightmares about it. You were there so much longer."
"Oh, I do," Benny assures him. "Plenty. Those just ain't so bad."
Dean raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn't say anything, patiently waiting for Benny to continue. Benny rubs his beard with his free hand, giving out a nervous chuckle.
"They just don't feel real enough," he explains and pauses for a moment. "But then," he adds, looking away, "neither does this."
"This what?" Dean narrows eyes at him. He might need a little clarification here.
Benny shifts his position, wraps his free arm around Dean's chest to pull him closer. "This. Living," he explains." And like this. I wake up with you here, I come home to you every evening, no monsters, no killing. It just feels like next time I blink I'll wake up back in that…home sweet home."
Dean's lips twist into a little, sad smile as he lifts their palms to press a kiss to Benny's fingers. With the other hand, he reaches to cup Benny's cheek, his fingers raking his outgrown beard.
"Frankly, I know the feeling, kinda," he admits.
He's tried that once before, playing house that turned out to be just a house of cards. He told himself that's just how it had to go, guys like him don't get domestic. Yet there it is, too good to be true. So maybe he's still stuck in Purgatory, maybe a Djinn's got a hold of him or some other s.o.b with its shrooms and bad juju. It doesn't seem much more far-fetched than this.
Dean shakes his head. They're being ridiculous, both of them. If Dean's ever been certain of anything—this is it. And if by some cruel twist of fate it's all just a dream, so be it. He's gonna enjoy it while he can. "But we're here, promise," he says firmly, leaving no space for arguments.
And Benny takes him at his word. He nods and leans in to kiss Dean goodnight once again. They've still got a few hours 'til morning, hopefully not enough to plague Dean with nightmares. But then, how can he be scared of them with Benny's body pressed behind him, his arms enveloping him tightly, their ankles tangled together?
"I'd still be grateful, you know," Benny murmurs to the back of Dean's neck. "For having had this, even if—"
"Oh, shush, stop," Dean cuts him off. "Come on, man. I said you're here, one hundred percent here, ya hear me?" Dean wishes he could be looking Benny in the eyes when he says it, but his embrace is just too damn comfortable. "I found you, remember?"
Dean doesn't have to see him to know he's smiling.
"Yeah, you did," Benny says, nuzzling Dean's hair. "And I found you."