Purgatory was bleak.
For all that Nell seemed to be in a forest, there was no life in it. There were no birds in the trees, no squirrels in the brush. The trees all looked the same, or nearly the same, dark trunks reaching high up into gray space. And it was space, more than sky; while the space above gave off the sort of weak light of a chilly, overcast winter morning, the light never changed. No sun or stars ever shone through, rising or setting. No clouds drifted above, and no wind stirred the leaves. Even on the ground it was impossible to tell direction. The forest floor hardly sloped, and there were no paths or far-off changes in the landscape. All around were identical trees, spreading out as far as they eye could see and then dissolving into soft mist.
The world was lifeless gray and brown, and Nell would be stuck in it forever.
She had known it was a risk, of course. She had undergone Sinclair's very experimental soul manipulation with no illusions: either the procedure would cure her, or it would kill her. She had hoped for the former, but now she knew it must have killed her.
She didn't remember it well. Sinclair had asked her to drink some sort of potion before starting the ritual, and the effects had made her vision blurry and her senses dull. She vaguely remembered pain, and chanting, but after that there was nothing. One moment she was in Sinclair's ritual circle, and the next she was waking up here, brushing dead leaves off her jeans and out of her hair.
She walked. She had nothing better to do. Maybe that was what Purgatory was—just endless walking, alone forever in an identical wood, the only soul in an empty world.
Nell shook her head at that thought immediately. She knew better. There were millions of souls here, monster souls. No matter how big the place was, how empty it seemed now, she would run into one eventually.
She didn't know how long it was until she finally met the first lost soul. It might have been hours or days, or even just minutes. There was no shifting of light to indicate the passing of time, only the soft crunch of leaves under Nell's sneakers.
When the vampire appeared, it appeared suddenly, from behind a tree. Nell hadn't heard its footsteps or the rush of air around its body until seconds before, so she guessed it must have been hiding, lying in wait for anyone passing by. Its face was dirty, crazed and monstrous, teeth fully elongated as it lunged at Nell with a crude knife made of what looked like bone.
Time, for all that it seemed meaningless in this place, seemed to slow. Nell slid sideways and forward easily, out of the path of the vampire's weapon, and clotheslined it around the throat with her arm. The vampire fell to the ground, wheezing. With all the resigned irritation of someone killing a roach who'd made its way into her kitchen, Nell pressed her foot down on the vampire's throat with her left foot.
The vampire gurgled and bared its teeth. Then it lifted its knife and slashed clumsily at Nell's leg. Without moving her foot from the vampire's windpipe, she leaned down and plucked the knife easily from its hand. She tested her grip on the thing, considering its weight. She swung the knife upwards, and then down.
She stopped just short of cutting the thing's head off, a memory coming to her suddenly. The vampire, who had squeezed its eyes shut, slowly peeked them open, looking uncertain.
"You wouldn't happen to know a Benny Lafitte, would you?"
The vampire stared at her, panicked and without an ounce of recognition in its eyes. Nell sighed and swung the knife again. With a squelching thud and a sigh of air, the vampire's head separated from its neck, coating Nell's sneaker with dark blood.
"If you ever end up there, you look for Benny, okay? Benny Lafitte," Dean had told her all those months ago. "Tell him you know me, and he'll take care of you."
Nell didn't need taking care of. But if she was going to be stuck in this dismal place for all of eternity, she wouldn't mind having a friend to help pass the endless time. If nothing else, searching for him would give her something to do, besides simply survive.
Time passed. Nell learned to measure this not in hours or days, but in monsters killed. It was the only thing that really changed, the only way to tell one moment from the next. Not that it was a particularly reliable system. Sometimes Nell stumbled on a group of three or four monsters together, raising her tally, and other times it felt like she wandered alone for a solid week before running into another solitary monster. Each time, before she killed her opponent, she asked the same question: "You wouldn't happen to know Benny Lafitte, would you?"
It was an exhausting time, and fantastically boring. She took to singing to herself, the way she had when she was locked alone in her room in the bunker. Except then, she hadn't been truly alone, had she? She'd had Crowley.
The singing drew attention, sometimes, drawing monsters to her. She sang, and she slashed, and she asked if anyone knew Benny. Figurative day after figurative day, over and over again, the same thing. Walking, running, singing, killing—blood and dirt and gray. It was exhausting. It was depressing.
If the number of monsters Nell killed served as days in Purgatory, then Nell had been in the place for over three months when she started to lose hope of ever finding Benny. By the time she'd killed 200, more than half a year in Purgatory-time, she didn't care anymore. When she next came upon a group of monsters, she didn't bother fighting back. She dropped her weapon, and welcomed whatever happened to monsters who died in Purgatory.
Apparently, the fate of monsters who died in Purgatory was… Purgatory. She died on the forest floor, head hacked off by a handful of werewolves, and the next thing Nell knew her head was on her neck again and she was pushing herself, dirty and blood-covered, back to her feet. She was alone, so 'time' must have passed, and the werewolves had taken her knife from her 'corpse', but other than that nothing had changed. She was surrounded by the same trees, the same dim light, the same colorless, lifeless expanse.
She wished she could cry.
She went back to wandering, and killing, and asking after Benny. She stopped singing—there was no joy in it anymore. She did not speak, did not open her mouth, except to ask, "You wouldn't happen to know Benny Lafitte, would you?"
It was months worth of monsters later when Nell finally found him. Or rather, he found her.
Nell had been crouching in a clearing, cleaning her newest bone-blade of blood by wiping the excess on the clothes of monster-corpse number 377. She was musing silently about how, by monster-killing calendar, she had been here for over a year, when she heard the slow, heavy, purposeful footsteps approaching the clearing.
Nell rose to stand, her blade at her side and a little intrigued. Monsters did not usually like to approach with slow, purposeful, audible footsteps.
The vampire who entered the clearing was tall and broad, with sharp, pale blue eyes. His hair was either brown or filthy, and Nell couldn't decide which. He wore a black coat that had seen better days, and in his right hand he held a spiky sort of weapon that Nell thought looked more useful for bludgeoning than beheading.
He stopped at the edge of the clearing, but made no move to raise his weapon. Nell didn't raise hers, either, watching him watch her. His eyes scanned her face and hair, flicked down to her weapon, and then returned to her face again. His eyebrows drew together slightly.
"You're not Andrea." This was said in a low, rough drawl, half-puzzled, half-disappointed.
It was the first real sentence anyone had said to Nell since she'd awoken in Purgatory, if she didn't count threats, so she was a little puzzled herself. To his statement, she said simply, "Nope."
"I don't know you at all," the vampire said carefully, eyes narrowing slightly. "So, how come I hear you've been askin' for me by name?"
Nell blinked, then straightened, eyes darting up the vampire's form again, re-assessing. She had given up hope so long ago that she hadn't expected to ever meet this vampire—if he was who she thought he was.
"Are you Benny Lafitte?" Her voice was almost as rough as his, and Nell repressed a grimace, swallowing to try to improve her situation a little.
"That's me." Benny spread his arms a little, still holding his spiked weapon in one hand. His eyebrows raised expectantly.
"I'm Nell." She was relieved to hear that her voice sounded marginally better now, and she swallowed one more time before she added, "Dean Winchester told me to look for you if I ever ended up here."
Benny went very still, arms still spread. He did not blink. Then, slowly, he lowered his arms, eyes flicking up and down, re-assessing Nell the same way she had just re-assessed him.
"Dean Winchester," Benny repeated, and Nell was relieved to hear less wariness and more warmth in his voice now. "Still pickin' up stray vamps, is he?"
Nell blinked again. She did not think Dean was ever in the habit of 'picking up stray vamps'. She shrugged noncommittally and said lamely, "It's a long story."
"Really." Benny hummed. For all that he was acting friendlier he had not relaxed his grip on his weapon at all. Now he said, "Tell you what. You put that weapon away, I'll let you tell it."
There was a chance that Benny might kill her, she knew, for all that Dean had seemed to trust him. But Nell didn't much care whether he did or not, and she didn't exactly have anything better to be doing. She'd been looking for Benny for what was essentially months, and now he was here.
She tucked her weapon away, sliding the blade into a makeshift holster she'd rigged on her belt. Benny watched this carefully, and when Nell finished she looked at him expectantly. He did not put his own weapon away, but turned and gestured with it for her to come forward and follow him.
"Come on."
Nell obeyed without complaint, following Benny through the underbrush for some time. Eventually, to Nell's surprise, the ground started to slope downwards some. Benny led her down a small incline covered with dark, twisting roots, and came to a stop at a small, rocky space sheltered on either side by sloping earth. A fallen log had been set up before what looked like a small fire pit, and it faced a small, weakling burbling spring.
It was the first water Nell had seen in Purgatory, and she spent a good while staring at it before turning back to look at Benny. He was still keeping a wary eye on her, but sometime while she'd been marveling at the stream he'd produced a small pile of dried wood and sticks, which was already beginning smolder and crackle into flames. Slowly, cautiously, Nell approached, sitting on the end of the log farthest away from Benny.
"Now then, Nell," Benny said, in a lightly teasing tone of voice that seemed to suggest he thought that might not be her real name, "I've provided the campfire. Seems only fair that you provide the campfire story."
Nell sighed a little and turned away from Benny's too-bright eyes, watching instead as the fire grew bigger and hotter, reaching out her hands to feel true warmth for the first time in over a year. She'd have to have Benny show her how to make a fire.
"I wasn't a vampire when I met Sam and Dean," Nell explained, talking lowly to the orange flames. "I was human. Camping, in the Grand Canyon. They were on a hunt, investigating some hikers who'd gone missing in the area. There'd been this older man and his dog camping at the site next to mine, and we were friendly, sharing hot dogs and beer. So when he went missing, and 'Agents' Sam and Dean didn't seem in a hurry to go after him, I went looking for him myself."
"I take it this is where the vampires come in," Benny said dryly. Nell glanced at him and grimaced.
"It's not like they came out and said, 'We're not going after him because it'll be night soon and we think there might be a wendigo in the woods,'" Nell said in her own defense. "They just told me to wait and let them take care of it, and since they said they were from the government, I didn't trust them at their word. Henry must have been 60-something, and he had the sweetest dog—I wasn't going to let him freeze to death in the woods because some bureaucrats didn't have their paperwork in order, or something."
"Understandable," Benny said, making it very clear that he was humoring her. Nell half-glared at him, and he smiled slowly before prompting, "So, you went into the woods."
"I went into the woods," Nell repeated, looking back at the fire. "And I found Henry's dog with her neck snapped about halfway down the trail before Sam and Dean found me. There was a cave nearby, and they dragged me along to investigate it before night fell. We found Henry alive, but tied up with rope and covered in blood. Sam said something about vampires, and me, being a reasonable, normal person, assumed that he and Dean were just batshit crazy."
"Well, you weren't exactly wrong," Benny said, turning his teasing toward the Winchesters. Nell couldn't resist a small smile.
"Yeah, well, they had flamethrowers, so I decided not to argue with them, and we all made our way out of the woods. The vampires who'd holed up in the cave came after us soon after, and Sam and Dean stayed to fight them off, telling me to get Henry back to the park rangers and get him some medical attention."
Nell stopped, shoulders hunching a little as she frowned at the fire.
"Lemme guess," Benny said. "Henry was turned."
Nell nodded. Softly, she explained, "Sam and Dean caught up in enough time to cut his head off, but not before he tore my throat out." She touched her smooth, unblemished throat, and her fingers came away smudged with dirt. Nell wrinkled her nose. "I should have bled out right there—and I would have, if Sam hadn't had the brilliant idea to use Henry's blood to turn me."
Benny exhaled sharply, and Nell turned to see him giving her a deeply skeptical look. "You expect me to believe Sam Winchester turned you, on purpose."
"It wasn't supposed to be permanent," Nell said dejectedly. "They've got a cure for vampirism, but it only works if you take it before you drink blood. One drop, and it doesn't work."
"And you drank." Benny didn't sound judgmental, the way Castiel had when she'd recounted the same story. He sounded sympathetic.
"Not on purpose," Nell said. "They put me in a dungeon with—"
With Crowley.
Nell squeezed her eyes shut and cleared her throat. "With a demon, while they prepared the cure. The demon cut his own wrist with his teeth and bled in my mouth."
Benny hummed, and Nell interpreted the sound as 'Likely story.' He didn't dispute her account, though. He just said, a little thoughtfully, "Demon blood, huh? I guess that explains it."
Nell turned to look at him, and found Benny watching her curiously. "Explains what?"
Benny shrugged and shook his head, leaning back and saying dismissively, "Nothin'. You just seem different, that's all."
Nell watched him with narrow eyes for a minute, but then sighed, deciding she just didn't care enough to push him for an answer. "If you say so."
"I say so," Benny agreed. "Now, I know how you became a vampire. But you still haven't told me how you ended up here."
Nell swallowed hard. She didn't want to get into the long, drawn-out story. She didn't want to explain everything that had happened, with her and the Winchesters, and Kevin, and Crowley. So she didn't.
"I volunteered for an experimental procedure to turn me human again," she said flatly. "Which failed spectacularly, as you can see."
"So I can." Benny was studying her thoughtfully again. "Should I expect one of them boys to come chargin' in here after you?"
Nell's brows knit together at his tone: a little weary, a little resigned. "Have they done that before?"
Benny raised his eyebrows. "What, Dean didn't tell you?"
"Dean didn't like to talk about Purgatory," Nell said with a shake of her head. "He only told me that it wasn't as bad as hell, and that if I ever ended up here I should look for you." Nell decided not to mention Dean's assurance that Benny would 'take care of her.'
Benny huffed a low, amused breath. "Yeah, that sounds like him."
"I'm reasonably certain they're not going to try to resurrect me," Nell said, though she wasn't completely sure. They hadn't tried to resurrect Kevin, after all, and it wasn't like her death was their fault. "I mean, I did tell them not to. I left a letter with Sinclair in case something like this happened."
"Sinclair?" Benny repeated.
"The wizard doing the experiment."
Benny raised his eyebrows again. "I'm gettin' the sense you left a whole lot outta that story."
Nell shrugged unapologetically. "Maybe you'll hear the rest when you tell me yours." She could have asked who Andrea was, but she decided against it.
"That so?" Benny shrugged and accepted her silence. He made no move to tell his own story, or explain how he'd met Dean. He watched as her fingers stretched towards the fire and her eyes drifted halfway closed. "You're gettin' awful relaxed over there."
Nell hummed in acknowledgment.
"This fire might draw some beasties any minute," Benny pointed out. Nell noted that his weapon was still ready at his side.
Nell shrugged carelessly, turning back to the fire. "So?"
"I'm beginning to think you got a bit of a death wish," Benny said, sounding vaguely exasperated. Nell turned to look at him again, raising eyebrows.
"Have you never been killed in all the time you've been here?"
Benny looked at her like he wasn't quite certain if she was stupid or insane. "I wouldn't still be here if I had."
"Now, that's where you're wrong," Nell said, a little sourly. "There's no death after death here. This is it. Purgatory is it. And no matter how a monster rips or tears at you, it can't destroy your soul. You die, and sometime later—I have no idea how long, since time doesn't seem to exist in this place—you wake up again, good as new." Nell shrugged, then added, "Except for any stuff you had before that your killer looted off your corpse."
Benny seemed to have decided that she was insane. "You let yourself get killed," he realized aloud. "Just to see what would happen?"
Nell shrugged again.
"And what if it did destroy your soul?" He said this like it was an unimaginably horrible fate.
"Then at least I wouldn't be in Purgatory anymore," Nell said bitterly. "Nonexistence has to be better than this… endless hunting."
Benny was quiet for a long while. Then, carefully, he said, "Sounds like what you want is the Empty."
"The Empty?"
Benny nodded slowly. "Word is that's where angels and demons end up when they die." Demons. Crowley. Nell repressed the thoughts, listening hard to Benny's wods. "Rumor is it's just… nothin'."
Nell stared at him, not quite daring to hope. "Rumor from who?"
Benny shrugged easily. "Reapers come here from time to time, and sometimes they talk. Not much point in keeping secrets from the dead, considering we've got no one to tell."
"And these reapers," Nell said, excitement igniting hot in her chest, warm as the fire blazing in front of them. "If I found one, it could take me there, couldn't it? To the Empty."
Benny stared at her with his mouth parted for a few long seconds. Finally he said, "I s'pose it might… if that's what you want."
Nell's hand fluttered over her chest, her heart, where even now she still felt like something was missing. Even dead, she still felt torn, like something vital had broken beyond repair.
"How do I find a reaper?"
According to Benny, there were a few set locations in Purgatory where reapers dropped off new souls. To find a reaper, they would have to find one of these drop-off points and stake it out until a reaper arrived. To find a drop-off point, they would have to interrogate more monsters.
"Great," Nell muttered at this news. "It only took me a year to find you."
"But you didn't find me," Benny reminded her. "I found you. And I coulda done it earlier, if I'd wanted to."
With that simultaneously infuriating and reassuring fact in mind, Nell had followed Benny into the forest to hunt down some monsters.
The first monsters they found were a group of five vampires. Nell had never understood how the monsters in Purgatory, all so consumed with the desire to kill, ever worked together. She still didn't understand it, even as she and Benny fell into battle together. Her partnership with Benny was an exception, and it would end if she achieved her goal.
Benny did not so much behead two of the vampires so much as he pulverized their heads. Nell took on two more, blade slicing easily through their necks before she pivoted lobbed the weapon at the vampire lunging at Benny's back, pinning the howling, snarling thing to the tree behind him. Benny, who had whirled around with his bloody weapon raised to meet the final vampire, slowly lowered his weapon, looking at Nell with apparent respect.
"You're quick."
Crowley's blood.
"Yep," Nell said shortly. She bent to scoop up one of their fallen foes' weapons, since hers was currently pinning a rabid vampire to a tree. It was flimsier than her own, and she frowned at it briefly before stalking up to the struggling monster.
"Hey there," Nell greeted with faux-enthusiasm. "Don't suppose you remember where you woke up in this awful hellscape, do you?"
"I'll kill you," the vampire hissed, words mangled a bit due to its long, sharp teeth.
Nell sighed wearily. "Yeah, that's what I figured." She cut the thing's head off. It fell to the ground and rolled a few feet. Benny toed it a little to peer at the thing's face, then looked up at her.
"You oughtta let me try next time. I know how to sweet-talk 'em."
Nell shrugged in easy acceptance and tried to wipe the blood splatter off her face with her sleeve. She had no idea whatsoever if she managed to wipe it off, or simply smear it around some, but she suspected it was probably the latter.
Benny watched her efforts, looking relaxed for the first time since Nell had met him. "Why don't we head back to that stream for a while?" He proposed, eyes lingering on a spot on Nell's cheekbone. "It's not deep enough for a real bath, but it'll serve just fine if you want to wash your face."
"Yes," Nell agreed emphatically. "Thank you."
Benny nodded, a little stiffly, and then turned to lead the way, whistling. Nell yanked her preferred blade from the corpse of the unhelpful vampire and followed.
Back at the makeshift campsite, Nell washed herself as best she could. The water was frigid cold, but she was happy to endure the temperature to wash her face and outer clothes as best she could. Benny started a fire again, and when Nell returned to sit on the log, setting her clothes near the fire to dry and trying to untangle her matted curls with her fingers, he sat fiddling with a small knife and another crude weapon he must have taken off one of the dead vampires.
They fell into a routine. They went out and hunted down monsters to interrogate, mostly unsuccessfully, and then they returned, either to that small haven by the stream or some other place, to sit by a fire while Nell tried to make herself as clean as was possible in this place and Benny worked on carving some sort of tool.
Nell didn't ask what he was making. They didn't talk much at all, really, except to discuss where monsters might be, the logistics of killing them, and how to interrogate them. Nell had no desire to talk about the events that occured between her turning and her death, and Benny seemed equally disinclined to drudge up the past. That was just fine with Nell. So long as he helped her find a reaper and get out of this damned place, Benny could do whatever he pleased.
Sometimes, Benny whistled. He did this often while fighting, and more rarely when he sat by the fire, whittling away at his project. It was a good, strong whistle, a pleasant sound, and Nell enjoyed it when she heard it. It reminded her of music, and humanity, and home.
It was maybe two 'weeks' into their acquaintance that Benny finally broke the silence. He had paused in his work, setting aside the knife and hunk of bone, hands clenched into fists on his knees as he watched Nell try to work her fingers through her damp, knotted hair.
"Andrea," he said then, so quietly that Nell might have dismissed the word as a sigh if she hadn't seen his lips moving. Benny's pale blue eyes moved from where Nell's hands had stilled, tangled in her hair, to her face. "When I heard a woman with dark, curly hair was asking around for Benny Lafitte, I thought I was gonna find Andrea again."
Benny stopped. Nell waited, returning his stare, and eventually he explained, roughly, how he had been turned into a vampire, and fell into a life of killing and stealing on yachts with his maker and his nest—vampirates, as Dean had apparently called them. Benny explained how he lived this way for years, decades, until he met Andrea.
"Seein' her face was like wakin' up from a dream," Benny mused. He had long since looked away from Nell, staring into the fire and only glancing at her occasionally to gauge her reaction to his story. "I ran away with her. Left my nest behind, switched to bagged blood… we were happy."
Benny's face shifted from wistful to dark, brooding. "The old man, my maker, he tracked us down. The last thing I saw before they cut my head off was the old man, tearin' Andrea's throat out."
Benny stopped again, gazing at the dancing fire with distant eyes. Nell opened her mouth to offer a soft I'm sorry, but stopped herself. Benny had not yet explained how he'd come to know Dean, nor why he'd come to find Nell, believing that she was Andrea.
"When Dean ended up in this place, I helped him get out. There's an exit to this place—an escape hatch that only works for humans. I hopped a ride, hitchin' my soul to his, in exchange for guiding him out."
Nell rather guessed there was a lot more to it than that, but didn't press. She could imagine Dean, rough and desperate and alone, bonding with Benny as they fought their way through and out of Purgatory. They weren't so dissimilar, really.
"I got out, and I set out for revenge on the old man," Benny continued. "Set out to put Andrea's memory to rest. Only, I come to find out, she never died."
Benny looked up at her. Nell connected the dots quickly. "Your maker turned her."
Benny nodded and looked back to the flames. "She was happy to see me. She helped me escape, helped me kill the old man. For a second there I thought we might be together. Run off, start over again…" Benny trailed off, shaking his head ruefully. "But she didn't want to. She wanted to stay, wanted to keep killin'... She wasn't the same person. She wasn't my Andrea."
Nell sat quietly for a long while. She eventually opened her mouth, but the I'm sorry she'd almost uttered earlier wasn't what escaped her lips.
"I fell in love with the demon who turned me into a vampire." Benny turned to look at her at the sudden admission, brows raised high in surprise. Nell swallowed painfully.
"But then he nearly killed Dean. And Dean is like a brother to me—" Nell shook her head. "When I found out… it felt like I was being torn apart. Still feels like it, sometimes."
"So you tried to become human again," Benny said, understanding. Then, a little less understanding, "Let a witch experiment on you."
Nell shrugged carelessly. "Why not? I figured he'd succeed, or I'd die. Either way the pain would stop." Nell huffed a humorless laugh. "Of course, I figured wrong."
Benny watched her warily, like Nell was a dog he had thought was friendly, but now thought might bite, but said nothing more. Nell turned back to the fire with a sigh, stretching out her hands and closing her eyes. She couldn't look at the flames right now, or she'd remember Crowley's eyes, burning like hot coals, like hell fire. Despite the heat, she shivered.
"Can I ask," Benny said cautiously sometime later, "how a vampire goes about fallin' for the demon who turned her?"
Nell blinked her eyes open, staring at the dancing flames with an ache in her soul. "Same way anyone falls for anyone else, I think."
Benny hummed skeptically. "You mean to tell me blood wasn't a part of it?"
Nell looked up at him in surprise. "No, it was. But that wasn't…" Nell shook her head, trying to think of a way to explain what she'd felt for Crowley—the euphoria at his attention, the pleasure of seeing him look at her like she was some rare creature. Shakily, she said, "He didn't look at me like I was a monster. Even when I was."
"You're no monster," Benny said dismissively. "Not where it counts. If you were, you wouldn't want out of this place so bad."
Nell decided not to argue the point, instead raising an eyebrow at him. "And you think you are, just because you want to stay?"
"I know I am," Benny said, and his voice was calm, certain. "This is monster heaven. I had a chance to get out again, and I didn't take it." Something like regret flickered over his face for the briefest moment, then vanished, just as quickly. "S'the only place I belong."
Nell hummed. She didn't believe it for a moment, but decided not to say so. What good would it do, after all?
"This is it," the werewolf babbled anxiously.
"Are you sure?" Benny asked in his charming drawl, knife still held to the werewolf's throat.
It had taken another 'month' in Purgatory, but Benny and Nell had finally found a few recently-killed monsters who could point them in the direction of the spot where they'd woken up.
"Yes, I'm sure! This is the same clearing, I woke up here not two hours ago, I swear—now please, let me go!"
"Sure thing," Benny said amiably. The werewolf's head fell to the floor of the clearing with a dull thud.
Nell wiped blood from her eyes with a grimace. "Was that really necessary?"
"'Course it was," Benny said. "Now he knows the first rule of Purgatory: you can't trust nobody."
Nell raised an eyebrow at him. "Not even you?"
"I'm not about to stab ya in the back," Benny assured her. With a sly smile he added, "S'no fun if you enjoy it."
Nell couldn't help a small laugh at Benny's jab at her so-called death wish—and then, the look of surprise on Benny's face at the noise, kept laughing. Benny watched, bemused, as Nell laughed, and laughed, and then finally caught her breath, still smiling as she wiped at her face.
"Is there a stream nearby?"
Benny swallowed, then nodded, leading her off through the trees to a small trickle of water no more than a few inches deep. Nell washed her face and hair as best she could, then took a seat on a small boulder next to the fire Benny had constructed. Once again, she worked her hands through her tangled curls, hissing softly as her fingers caught in knots.
Benny caught one of her hands, and Nell froze, staring at her small hand in his large one for a long moment before turning to look at him.
"Let me." His other hand produced something from the pocket of his coat. It was the tool he'd been working on by the fireside. Nell saw, now, what Benny had been making: a small, wide-toothed comb.
A little stunned, Nell nodded. She slid off the rock, sitting on the ground so Benny could sit behind her. He did so, then leaned forward and began to work, gently untangling the snags and knots from bottom to top.
It was extremely intimate, Nell thought—perhaps on par with their confessions of what had brought them to Purgatory in the first place. Benny's hands worked firmly but gently, tugging on Nell's hair and scalp in a way that was just heavenly. His body wasn't quite pressed against hers, but she could still feel the heat of him, warmth radiating from the fire before her and Benny's chest behind her.
But the intimacy was fine, Nell thought. It was nothing serious, and in any case, she doubted that Benny was really thinking about Nell while he ran his hands through her dark curls. He was probably thinking about Andrea. She wondered, almost drowsily, whether Benny would look for her when Nell was gone. He'd come to find her, after all, because he'd thought she was Andrea, asking about him.
But then, he'd also waited a year to find her, hadn't he?
Eventually Benny finished, leaving Nell's hair clean and tangle-free for the first time in over a year. He ran his fingers through it, just once, from the crown of her head all the way through to the end, and then brushed the dark mass of curls forward over her shoulder. Nell turned to look at him, craning her head back slightly to meet his gaze.
"You sure you wanna go?" His voice was a low rumble, and carefully neutral. "You could stay. If you wanted."
He did not look like he believed for a second that she would actually consider it. Nell shook her head slowly.
"I don't want to kill and be killed for the rest of eternity," she told him frankly, meeting his eyes without hesitation. And then, equally certain that he would never agree to what she was about to propose, she said, "You could come, if you wanted."
Benny shook his head immediately. "I don't wanna sleep for all eternity, neither," He denied. "Feels too much like dyin'."
Nell smiled wryly and squeezed the Benny's hand, the one still holding the comb, just once. "Seems we're at an impasse."
"And what if it won't take you?" Benny tucked the comb away in his coat and caught her hand up again. "What if the reaper says no, and tells you to rot here where you belong?"
Nell's fingers clenched involuntarily, stomach jolting with fear and horror and dread. But the thought had occurred to her before. She had a back-up plan, though she very much didn't want to use it.
Softly, she admitted, "I have a theory that souls that are eaten by Leviathan within Purgatory might not regenerate."
Benny stiffened, staring down at her with wide eyes. "You wanna get yourself eaten?" Disbelief bled into disappointment, and then into resignation. "You'd rather be eaten. You'd sooner let a monster digest your soul."
Nell swallowed heavily at the way he said it, but she wasn't about to start lying to him now. "Yes. I'm sorry, Benny. It's nothing to do with you. It's just… what I need."
"What ya need," Benny repeated scornfully, voice and accent thick. "That's not what ya need."
The kiss, when he pulled her into it, was not romantic. It was firm, and deliberate, and thorough, but it was not a lover's kiss. It only because of this that Nell allowed herself to press upwards, to wrap her hand behind his neck and kiss him back.
It wasn't love. It was just two lonely, dead, heartbroken vampires seeking comfort where they could find it.
Against her ear, Benny rumbled, "This is what you need."
"You won't change my mind," Nell warned, lips moving against his stubbled cheek. She did not close her eyes, lest she lose herself in the sensation and forget just who the cheek belonged to.
Not Crowley.
Benny pulled back to look her in the eye, blue eyes wide and sincere and honest. "Let me try."
She probably shouldn't have, but Nell let him. It might not be good for either of them in the end, but it was what they wanted in the moment—and if they couldn't live in the moment when they were dead, then when? Maybe it would numb the pain, or maybe it wouldn't. If nothing else, losing herself with Benny for a while would distract her for a while, until the time came for her to find the reaper.
Nell nodded. Benny kissed her again, and began shrugging off his coat. He laid the coat on the ground, and then lowered Nell down onto the coat, gently. They peeled off their dirty clothes quickly, urgently, and then came back together just as fast. Benny's lips moved languidly against Nell's, and he stroked his hands down her ribs and across her hips lightly, almost worshipfully.
Nell pulled away to look at him, licking her lips uncertainly. Benny met her eyes, silently questioning.
"Are you thinking about Andrea?"
Benny's eyes darkened a little. Instead of answering he asked lowly, "Are you thinking about your demon?"
"Always."
To Benny's credit, he looked neither surprised nor affronted. He considered her seriously for a long moment, then said, "We can stop."
"We could," Nell said neutrally. "But do you really want to?"
She watched him think about it. Finally he shook his head. "Just promise you won't cry out any name but mine."
"I promise," Nell said, pulling his lips to hers again as she sighed, "Benny."
The sex was rough and primal, all heat and breath and desperation as they pressed into each other on Benny's battered coat. There was emotion there, if not the ones they were really yearning for. There was friendship and trust and solidarity, a shared loneliness that pulled them together like magnets, a common hurt and frustration that had them crying out into each other's hair and necks.
It was quick and hard, and over too soon, and not enough. They began again, more slowly this time, savoring the moments, the touches. It was the most wonderfully melancholy thing Nell had ever experienced, and for once she was glad she could not cry.
They finished and collapsed together, still naked on Benny's coat, covered in dirt and sex and heaving breaths full of air they didn't strictly need. They lay there together for what might have been hours, or might have been a day. It didn't matter.
In the end Nell rolled off the coat and began to slowly pull her clothes back on. Benny leaned up on his elbows to watch her.
"Where're you goin'?"
He already knew, Nell could tell. Nell wasn't sure if he was really hoping for a different answer, or if he just needed to hear her say it.
"To wait for the reaper," she said. She hesitated, then added, "You don't have to come, if you don't want to. I know my way back to the clearing, and you've done more than enough."
Benny shook his head slowly, and rose. "I've already come this far. I'll see you off. Just let me dress."
Nell waited for Benny to dress, and then they went back to the clearing in silence. They waited for the reaper to appear, Benny on one side of the clearing, Nell on the other.
When he arrived, there was no sound. There was simply a silent shift of air, and then there stood a bland-looking man in a dark, pristine suit. The reaper dropped what looked like an unconscious werewolf on the ground, and then turned on his heel.
Benny got there first. He caught the reaper by the shoulder and spun him so he faced Nell, bringing his knife up to the reaper's throat.
'Hold on there, friend."
The reaper didn't bother to fight. He looked more annoyed than anything, and released something of a put-upon sigh. Since he couldn't see Benny, who actually held the weapon to his throat, he said to Nell, "Go ahead and kill me. I won't take you back."
"I don't want to go back," Nell said, hoping this changed the reaper's attitude. "I want you to take me to the Empty."
The reapers stared at her skeptically. "You want to go to the Empty."
"Yes."
The reaper turned to look at Benny over his shoulder, brow raised as if to say, You, too? Benny shook his head in denial. The reaper turned back to look at Nell, sighed, and then shrugged.
"Okay. Sure, fine."
Nell blinked in surprise. She had been prepared to reason with him, to try to persuade him… she wasn't anticipating such easy acceptance. A little off balance, she said, "Thank you."
"Uh-huh," the reaper said with almost aggressive disinterest. "Come on, then. I haven't got all day."
"Now, wait just a moment, would you?" Benny said, still not releasing the reaper. Nell shifted uncertainly, not knowing what Benny was up to.
"Death waits for no man," the reaper said impatiently, in the tone of one who said such things often. Benny nodded sagely.
"I'm sure it don't," he agreed. "But you ain't death himself, and she ain't a man. So be patient for a moment while I say my goodbyes to the lady, will you?"
The reaper produced a pocket watch, then sighed again. "You have one minute."
Benny released the reaper and stepped toward Nell, stopping just inches away.
"I was wrong, you know," he said softly. "You don't belong here." He raised one hand to tuck a dark, wayward curl behind Nell's ear. "You oughta be goin' to heaven. He might even take you, if I twisted his arm."
Nell smiled at the sentiment, but shook her head at him. "I'm tired, Benny," she said. "Dead tired. I don't want to dream forever… I just want to sleep."
"I know it," Benny said, resigned. "So I'll just have to say good night." He leaned forward and pressed one last kiss to Nell's forehead.
"Good night, Nell."
Nell smiled, only a little wistfully, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Good night, Benny."
Then Nell walked past him, and she didn't look back. She took the reaper's hand, and she didn't think about Benny, watching her walk away and disappear into nothingness. Her last waking thought, before everything went black, was that Crowley had been right.
"There'll be no heaven or hell for you, darling. Not anymore."