Ben woke slowly. Glacially. Molasses covered snails would have moved faster than him.
The bed is soft, his sleep addled brain informed him primly, and so are the pillows and blankets. They smell clean, too. Dull warning bells sound in his mind but the siren song of staying asleep is too strong to ignore. He drifts off again.
The second time he wakes up, it isn't as slow. His subconscious, that noticed that things are not right, spent that time going over everything that Ben had initially ignored had cataloged them into terms of wrongness, so when Ben finally came back to the land of awareness, it threw the observations at him like a fastball thrown by Warren Spahn. He had no choice but to look at them.
And yeah, Ben realized he's not in Kansas anymore.
Straining his ears, Ben pretended it was a slow crawl to consciousness as he took in the smells and noises and the feel of the room. It's clean, airy, and has a natural brightness that suggest windows, some of which that are open. Definitely not the Bunker.
"Hello, Ben," a male British voice greeted him, and Ben opened his eyes, giving up on pretending.
"Hi," he greeted back. There were two men standing at the foot of his bed, and yeah, Ben is definitely not at the Bunker. The room is as big as the Bunker library with rich oak flooring that transitioned into a dark wood, and a wall of windows to his left. The sun is shining in through them. The incredibly comfortable bed is a four-poster bed with maroon drapes tied to the posts. A sea of pillows surround him like a nest.
"And you are...?"
The shorter of the two men, huffed an embarrassed laugh. He gestured to himself then to the other man. "I'm Mick Davies, and that is my associate Mr. Ketch. We're Men of Letters, London Chapter-house."
Ben nodded at them slowly, his eyes lingering on the silent man, Mr. Ketch. His danger radar pinged loudly. Mr. Ketch smirked coldly at him, his eyes dark as they assessed Ben, seemingly finding him lacking. It had Ben's hackles rising, and it had him moving off the bed and to his feet, chin tilted up defiantly. Mr. Ketch's smirk grew but there was a glimmer of approval in those dark eyes.
"Sharks eyes are warmer than yours," Ben told the man. Mr. Davies covered a smile while Mr. Ketch's smirk disappeared. "And where the hell am I?" Directing the question to Davies.
"Some place safe," Mick assured him. "You're just here to talk before we return you to your uncle."
Sam! "Where is he?" Ben growled out, stalking forward, hand automatically going to the knife hidden in the back of his belt. Krissy worked hard on it, making sure the sheath wouldn't stick out or catch on Ben's shirt.
Mick took a step back when Ben pulled out a knife, surprise on his face.
"I thought you took away all his weapons," he hissed to Ketch. Ketch grunted, a smile appearing. He shifted into a fighting stance, a giddy and excited expression on his face. Mick reached out and placed a hand on Ketch's arm, stopping him.
"I'm a Winchester," Ben told them, his own smirk appearing. "I'm always armed."
Mick held out his free hand, palms up. "Okay, let's take a breath. Shall we?" Ketch subsided, eyes still locked on Ben, and Ben glared right back, but faced his body towards Mick to show he's listening. "Ben, we just want to talk about the hunters in America. Who do you report to? Who's in charge? Where do hunters meet up?"
Ben frowned, giving Mick his full attention.
"Report? In-charge? What? What are you talking about? We don't report to anyone. Why would we? As for in-charge, hunters usually hunt on their own. They're in charge of themselves. The only contact hunters have -" He cut himself off. Wait. Shut up, Ben.
Mick leaned forward, and Ketch shifted his weight. Ben responded in kind to Ketch.
"'The only contact hunters have' what? Where do they meet up? Organizations. Knowledge hubs, since we know the American Men of Letters died out in the 70s. Where do hunters receive their information and marching orders? Tell us, Ben, and I will personally escort you back to where your uncle is being held," Mick told him before his eyes widened and Mr. Ketch growled lowly.
Ben pounced. "Where is my uncle being held? I'm not saying shit until I have proof that my uncle is safe and unharmed." He has a feeling his uncle isn't getting the right same treatment as he is.
"We're not going to do that," Mr. Ketch speaks for the first time. "You're not getting anything until you tell us what we want to know." He stalked forward menacingly. Ben felt a thrill of fear shoot down his spine, but his Winchester pride kept him in his place, meeting Mr. Ketch head on.
He didn't flinch when the older man grabbed him by the lapels and shoved him backwards until he hit the far wall. Insides threatening to let loose, Ben glared and moved his face so they were mere inches apart. He waited until Mr. Ketch settled into his intimidation routine, something Ben senses the man has great practice at, before speaking with as much spittle he could muster, and said, "Fuck. You."
Perverse pleasure rolled through him like a wave as he watched his spit splatter on Mr. Ketch's face. Rage contorted the older man's features, hauling back one arm to punch him, but snapping of fingers froze Mr Ketch. He dropped Ben, anger coming off of him for exactly three seconds before he smoothed his expression and became calm again.
"Neat trick," Ben sneered at Mick. "You're attack dog needs some more training."
Ketch's expression flickered. Mick dipped his head down, hiding an amused grin. He likes this boy.
"Yes. Mr. Ketch, would you please go check to see if Dr. Hess is ready for our guest?" Mick asked his colleague. Displeasure shown briefly, but the man nodded and strode out of the room, not looking back.
Ben watched him go, triumph on his face.
"Where's Sam?" he demanded once the door closed. "I'm not saying shit until I know that my uncle is okay. And Castiel," he added. "Once I have that information, I'll tell you what you want." But if I find out they are not okay, that they're hurt, I'm not saying a word. "Call him. Now."
Mick stared at Ben, face hard to read, but Ben prayed to God, his dad's friend, and holy shit - his dad's friend is God - that Mick believed him.
"Fine," the man relented, and pulled out a satellite phone. Oh shit.
"We're not in America are we?" Ben asked, already knowing the answer.
"No. My bosses wanted to speak to you. As a Winchester, a legacy to the Men of Letters, we brought you to our council to talk," informed Mick. He dialed a number, hit the speaker button, and waited.
"Yes," a clipped British woman's voice answered.
"Put Sam on," Mick told the woman.
There's silence but then a few seconds later, Ben hears his uncle's voice on the other end.
"Hello? Ben? Are you okay?"
Tears of pooled in his eyes in relief. He quickly brushed them away. "I'm fine. Are you? Did they hurt you?"
A beat too long then his uncle answered, "They're not hurting me." Something about that both did and didn't ring true. "Where are you?"
Mick hit the speaker button again, holding his finger up to his lips, shooting Ben a warning look. Ben nodded in understanding before hitting the button. Oh, he understands all right. If he says a word about not being in America right now, they'll hurt his uncle, and they know Ben wouldn't want that. No matter how much he's angry at Sam for so many things.
"I'm somewhere safe," he replied honestly. "No one's tried to kill me."
"But did they hurt you?" There's a hardness in his uncle's voice. He caught Ben's wording the same way he caught Mick's earlier. "Did they?" The second question didn't feel aimed towards him. He must be asking the woman.
Ben shook his head. "No, Sam. I swear. I'm not hurt." And he's not. Confused and shocked, but not hurt. A memory hit him. "Did you call earlier?"
"Yeah. I wanted proof you were safe. You sounded sleepy," Sam told him. Oh. It wasn't a dream. "But you are okay. Not hurt. Not under any duress?"
"Nope."
Ben glared at Mick.
"Say goodbye to your uncle, Ben. Tell him you'll see him soon," said Mick.
"Bye, Sam. I'll see you soon," Ben parroted obediently, earning an exasperated eye-roll from Mick. Whatever Mr. Posh wants, he's going to have a bitch of a time getting it out of Ben.
The other side of the phone beeped, signalling the end of the call. Mick clicked a lot of buttons on the phone then pocketed it when he was done. He raised his eyebrows at Ben, as if asking, 'Happy now?'
Ben nodded primly.
"Take me to your leader."
Mick rolled his eyes.
BW
Dr. Hess read the file they had on the Winchesters, specifically Benjamin Braeden-Winchester. Dean Winchester's son. His daughter Emma was killed by Sam Winchester two years ago.
Ben turns 19 in one month. Has a girlfriend, Krissy Chambers, also a hunter, and is friends with Claire Novak and Alex Mills, adopted daughters of Jody Mills, a sheriff and hunter in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Jody Mills is also a friend and ally of the Winchesters.
Tapping her chin, Dr. Hess ignored the others and focused on Benjamin.
Memories spelled away by the Winchester's pet angel, Castiel. Lost his mother when the angels fell, bounced around in foster care for a while before an unnamed angel used their influence to get Benjamin sent to Sioux Falls to be near the vicinity of Dean Winchester's ally. Most likely as repayment for a debt owed. The Winchesters do accumulate some odd bedfellows. Creatures they should have killed on the spot but instead earned their debt to be called in at a later date.
Must be effective. Creatures help the Winchesters, and that could explain their success rate. Nothing else makes sense. But who do they report to? Are they the highest authority?
Benjamin is the answer, Dr. Hess feels it. He's the way in. Her fellow council members agree. To get a foothold in America, they need a Winchester, and Bevell's insistence that Benjamin is the easiest mark - all their attention will be focused on the boy. From his file, she knows exactly how to get to him.
Notations of the boy wanting to prove himself to his father, of abandonment issues that aren't unfounded, and an anger the boy probably isn't aware of seething just under the skin. Dr. Hess bets the boy doesn't even realize just how much rage and bitterness he has towards his father.
They could use that.
A knock on the door signaled Mick and boy's arrival. Ketch had told her the boy is defiant but brave. Has a fighting spirit. Smart, judging by his grades before his month long disappearance, reappearing in Seattle with Krissy Chambers. Something happened. Something took the boy and brought him to Chambers for some reason. Training? The boy might have been more receptive by someone his own age, something to consider.
"Enter," Dr. Hess said curtly.
The door opened, Mick ushered the boy in, and Dr. Hess is struck by how much he resembles his father, but with his mother's eyes. The boy's eyes did a quick sweep of the room before turning his attention to her, an eyebrow rising at her appearance. A flicker of confusion in those brown eyes, and maybe, curiosity as well. Good.
"Hello, Benjamin," Dr. Hess greeted, her eyes locked on his, and like Ketch said, he met her silent challenge head on. The boy is a Winchester, all right.
Nodding in approval, Dr. Hess got up from behind her desk, moving to walk around the boy. He's tall, strong, and needs just a little bit of training to be a good hunter or a great Men of Letters. He could be their beacon to the other hunters, especially the young ones.
"How was your nap? I know Mick called your uncle back in America. I expect it went to your liking?" If looks could kill, Dr. Hess mused dryly. "Did it not go as you wanted it?"
Ben crossed his arms, glaring at her. He wiped any emotion he had on his face, save for the eyes. He has yet mastered the art of putting on masks. Under properly tutelage, the boy could go far, Dr. Hess observed. He could be amazing. Their greatest pupil.
Yes. Their greatest pupil.
"I would like to make a deal with you," Dr. Hess says, coming to stand in front of Ben. Mick's eyebrows shoot upward in surprise but then smooths it away, more effectively than Ben, but give the boy time, and he'll be better. "If you would consider staying here with me for two months, not only will I teach you about your heritage as a legacy to Men of Letters, but I will teach you things no other hunter in America knows. It will keep you and your loved ones infinitely safer."
Mick ducked his head, face still carefully blank. This is not the plan. A talk with the boy and then back to America to his family, hopefully after giving them the information they need.
Keeping Dean Winchester's son wasn't the agreement.
Questions and curiosity burned in those intelligent brown eyes, but there is also a hunger, a desperation, like they hold answers to questions he'd never voice. Such as, what would the world be like if the monsters and demons were brought to heel.
"We are in London, Benjamin. There are no monsters here. We take care of them as soon as they arrive with wards and spells all around the harbors and airports. Mr. Ketch and his associates are dispatched to take care of them. We have knowledge and technologies that would surprise you," Dr. Hess told Ben, laying it on thick, but Ben didn't mind.
"We have had a monster-related death since the 70s. Our depository fills miles and miles of bookshelves, that would make your uncle drool and your father's eyes glaze over and shoulders slump with dread." Dr. Hess shared a grin with the boy, knowing Dean's reticence to research and reading. "Imagine Krissy and Claire having access to all that knowledge, to our weapons, and imagine within ten years, America being monster free. Your children will have no reason to fear the dark. Your friends could live a normal, happy, safe life."
That hunger, the desperation Dr. Hess clocked earlier, returned full force. The boy lost his blank mask as his mind reeled with the image she painted for him. He's young, and suffered so much loss. The hard sell isn't needed. He just needs a soft, gentle push.
Mick relaxed. Yes, this is a much better plan.
Ben bit his lip in thought. "In a decade, America will be monster free?" he asked for clarification. Dr. Hess nodded. "But what about the angels and demons? How are you going to get rid of them? You do that, and what will happen to Castiel?"
"Your father's angel will not be harmed," Dr. Hess promised, her eyes flicking to Mick's, and he read her real intent there and nodded back. He understood. "As for the demons, we'll make it so they'd rather appear somewhere else. Unfortunately, the only person who could keep the demons away, is the Prophet of the Lord and the demon tablet, and the last one died in your father and uncle's care. We have yet to identify the next Prophet."
"But once you do, you'll be able to expel demons from America?"
"Yes. Convincing the next Prophet to banish demons should be relatively easy."
"And you'll do the same for the angels? But what does that mean for Castiel? He's family. Do you have a contingency plan for the angels?" Ben asked rapid-fire. "What if the other hunters won't cooperate? What then? How are you going to get rid of all the monsters if the American hunters won't help you? There is no way you have enough of your own to do a job of this magnitude."
Dr. Hess grinned in approval. The boy has a sharp mind. He will be magnificent once properly trained. She can see it. Their greatest prodigy.
"We will find a way, Benjamin. Don't doubt us," Dr. Hess assured him. She flicked a hand at Mick, who nodded and went to go get Ketch. "There will be hunters in America that are sick of the status quo, who want more than anything to have a win instead of the ever-incessant draw."
"But -" Ben started then broke off. He bit his lip again, emotions warring in his head.
Dr. Hess sensed now is the time to truly push. He's right on the precipice. One little nudge and he'll either be theirs or his Winchester genes will prevail and be a thorn in their side. She preferred the former. Such potential should not be wasted.
"Ben," her soft tone drew his lost and conflicted gaze to hers, and Dr. Hess allowed warmth to bleed into them. "You would not be an orphan if not for those monsters. You, Krissy and Claire should be in college, having fun and trying to figure out what you want to be. Not chasing after death in some misguided attempt to fix wrongs that should have never been. Stay and be trained, be our champion and erase monsters from your home land."
Ketch arrived silently, Mick behind him. They watched the scene in front of them with unreadable expressions.
Ben dropped his gaze from hers. "Why me? Why not Sam or Claire or Krissy? Why me?"
"Because you're a Winchester," Dr. Hess answered simply. "Your uncle is locked in old habits, but you, you Benjamin, are still young enough to listen and learn new ideas with an open mind. Plus, you are the son of Dean Winchester, one of the most revered and feared hunters in history. American history," she added when Ketch shifted angrily behind the boy. "The American hunters will be more receptive to our ideas with you by our side. Your last name holds a lot of power, and used right, we can save thousands of lives."
The fight went out of the boy's eyes, lowering them to the ground and his body went lax. Dr. Hess smirked triumphantly.
"Okay," he said tiredly. "I'll do it. I'll stay here and train with you guys."
"Good. You are making the right decision, Benjamin." Dr. Hess bestowed a grandmotherly smile on him, earning a small one in return. He's already starting to trust her. "Mick, will you escort our newest recruit to his quarters?"
"Yes, ma'am," Mick replied promptly, gesturing for Ben to follow.
The second the door shut behind the boy, Dr. Hess dropped her smile and fixed a severe look on Ketch. The interrogator held her gaze defiantly for a second then dropped it, bowing his head in submission.
"You will train the boy," she told him, ignoring his displeased look. "I want the best teaching him, and you are it, whether you like it or not. You will not alienate him. His resolve and trust are fragile. We must not lose or break it. Understand?" Ketch nodded. "You will become his hero, his idol ...his father-figure."
"I beg your pardon," Ketch blurted out. "His father-figure?"
"Yes. The boy never had a relationship with Dean. He's practically starving for a father. You will be it. Once you establish that relationship, the boy will never betray us. He will be ours. We need that connection or we will have already lost before we've established a foothold in America." Dr. Hess walked over and grabbed Ketch by the chin, pinning her eyes to his. "You will not fail."
Ketch had the audacity to smirk at her. "Have I ever?"
"There's a first time for everything."
"What's the point of Bevell interrogating Sam Winchester when we have the boy?" he asked, wrenching his chin free and changing the subject. "Why haven't you sent for her return?"
Dr. Hess smiled coldly. "The boy is new to hunting. Nomadic with Krissy Chambers for months. He has no idea the hierarchy of the hunter organization, but Sam does. The boy is leverage for Samuel's cooperation. What Winchester doesn't know, won't influence him."
Ketch grunted. "What if you need me across the ocean? Who will train the boy then? Surely you won't send him with me."
"Of course not. You will only be sent over if we have no other choice. Mick will be leaving tonight to back-up Bevell. He knows to call you only in an emergency," Dr. Hess told him. "Now, go. You have lesson plans ahead of you. And remember, Arthur," Hess said, using his first name to tell just how important this next bit is, "the boy needs to love you. You will become his hero. Erase the image of Dean Winchester as the omnipotent, all-caring father."
Ketch bowed his head and left the room as silently as he entered.
Dr. Hess turned her attention back to her desk covered with the Winchester files. She picked up Ben's junior year photo and stared at it, her mind already planning twenty steps ahead. The news of Dean Winchester's survival barely makes a bump in the road they're on. They'll inform the boy in time, preferably after he's already bonded with Ketch. He'll see it as another betrayal from his absentee father for not coming to find him.
Things will work out in the end. Dean's ineptitude as a father will only make the boy cling harder to Ketch, who she knows will do as told and make the boy admire and look up to him. Maybe even love him, if given enough time. Ketch will rise and succeed where Dean has only fallen and failed.
The boy will be theirs, and then America will follow.
