A little late in posting today- my apologies! Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~ Chapter 3 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The drive takes three days.

Dean doesn't stop fidgeting. He drives most of it, but even when Sam insists on taking a turn and Dean's passed out in the passenger seat within minutes, his fingers never stop twitching.

Sam thinks about turning around, heading back in the opposite direction. They'd called Garth to find someone else to take care of the vampire nest, but they could find a haunting or a zombie or a rugaru instead. Sam knows it's not a solution, but ever since his brother came back, Dean's seemed most at peace when he's hunting something. It's disturbing and it's wrong, but if that's what it takes to bring Dean back and away from this haunted memory of the Braeden's, Sam will gladly support thrashing some monsters apart, Purgatory style. He knows how that sounds. But he also knows that going to see Lisa right now is almost definitely a mistake.

Because Sam understands loss well. He knows that seeing Dean will do nothing to ease Lisa's pain. She's lost her son, and nothing's going to fix that. Especially because Sam knows that the moment she sees Dean, Lisa will understand that she's lost him, too.

Dean's different. He's tense and wild-eyed and lethal in ways he hadn't been before. If Sam knows anything about Lisa (and he'd like to think he knows at least a little), she'll see it right away, even through her grief. It might send her over the edge. It might make things a million times worse.

But it's two against one.

Sam glances into the rearview, catches the ghost staring back at him. He slides a look to his brother next, sleeping fitfully.

"Can I ask you something?" the hunter says to Ben, flicking his eyes back to the road.

"Sure," the kid shrugs.

Sam clears his throat, tries to think about how best to phrase his question. "Usually the ghosts...the spirits we run into. They're not like you. They've died horrifically, same as you, and they can't let go. They get violent."

Ben shrugs again, and all Sam can see is Dean. Come on Sammy, spit it out already.

"So why aren't you? How have you managed to still be...you?"

Ben snorts, light and airy, and Sam shivers at the innocence of it. "You're gonna laugh," Ben says.

"I doubt it," Sam replies. He hasn't felt like laughing in a long time.

"Yoga," says Ben. And Sam retracts his statement. He actually chuckles a little, a startled sound that has Dean shifting in the seat next to him. Sam waits until he's sure Dean hasn't woken before he speaks.

"Yoga?" he asks, still smiling.

"Told ya you'd laugh," Ben says. He seems almost smug about it. "But yeah. Mom taught me some stuff when I was little, and I'd go to some of her classes before I got too cool for her, or whatever." There is a wistful sadness to the words, the kind of nostalgia that comes with knowing better now. Now that it's too late.

"Huh," is all Sam says.

"And I knew I had to make it here," Ben continues, unheeded. "To him. When it all came flooding back...when my memories found me again and I started to be pulled in his direction. My mom can't see me, but I knew he'd be able to if I just stayed for long enough."

"But I can see you too, Ben," says Sam. "Not that I'm condoning you drop in on your mom like...this. But how could she not…?"

"I don't know," Ben shakes his head. His eyes darken. "Maybe part of me knows I can't let her see me. Maybe, as much as I want to say goodbye, I know it wouldn't do any good. Maybe I'm stopping myself from breaking through. I just...she can't be in pain anymore. I know Dean can help, even just a little. So I had to stay in control. Otherwise he'd kill me before he had the chance to see my mom again."

Sam runs a hand over his mouth and does his best not to shake his head. He sighs. "Ben. About that. I don't think Dean seeing your mom again is going to do much good," he cautions. "The truth is, there is no way to make this better. I understand your struggle, I really do. But I think the best thing to do is just to let go."

"No," Ben's anger is immediate, and Sam feels the temperature drop by a few degrees. His fingers tense around the wheel "I'm not letting go until I know she'll be okay. If it was your mom, what would you do?"

Dean shifts again, and Sam can tell he's waking up this time. Sam shoots Ben another look from the rearview and nods his reluctant understanding.

"How close are we?" Dean mumbles, still coming up from sleep. "And why is it so damn cold in here?"


Hours later, they're outside Lisa's house. The one the three of them had moved into together.

There is a sobering quietness in the Impala now, broken only by the flick, flick of Dean's still-twitching fingers. Ben, impatient as he's been throughout the drive, isn't making a sound. Still as death in the backseat, and the thought makes Sam wince internally.

Dean breathes deep. "Ben. This was a mistake," he says. "I can't go in."

"If you don't go in, you'll never get rid of me," comes Ben's voice. He sounds almost threatening, if a fourteen-year-old could be such a thing. Sam remembers Dean at fourteen, and he knows it's possible. "I won't leave you alone. Ever."

"That doesn't sound any different than how you were before," Dean jokes, but it falls flat in the hollowed out space between them. "Wouldn't be half bad."

He twists around in the driver's seat to get a clear look at Ben, eyes crinkling into something that isn't quite a smile, but wants to be. He's still running with the joke that isn't a joke. "Whattya say, kid? Wanna hunt with us?"

Ben smiles back, a genuine grin that almost brings some light back to his sunken face. "I'd love that more than anything. You know I would."

He leaves it at that. Just waits. Smart kid, Sam can't help but thinking. Letting Dean come to the decision on his own, even when it's already been made for him. Dean hesitates for only a moment longer, shoulder slung over the Impala's seat before he sighs, a low almost-hum that sings in his chest and vibrates out over his lips like something he'd never really say aloud. He nods to himself, just once. And then he's climbing out of the car, staring out across the street at the house that seems like it belongs in someone else's memories.

"Dean?" Sam hesitates, closing the passenger side door and coming to stand beside Dean. He doesn't look at his brother, directs his eyes to the house, looming in front of them like a challenge. "Do you want me to come with?"

Dean's jaw clenches, and Sam holds his breath. The older hunter turns to face Sam slowly. "Sure, Sammy," he says with a sad upward twitch of his mouth. "Sure."


See you next week!