They stayed at Claire's to make sure she was fine, until she kicked them out, pleading for space. When, by Tuesday, there was no other attack, no sign of the angels, Ben almost felt like things were back to normal. He knew better, of course, but he didn't have the heart to refuse Blake and Katie their usual Tuesday movie night.
"Where's Jesse?" asked Katie when she arrived with Blake around 6 pm. "I like him, he's hot. I need more hot guys in my life," she added, sticking out her tongue at Blake, who rolled his eyes.
Ben turned away to hide his flush, wondering what Katie would say if she knew about what had transpired between Jesse and him.
"Jesse isn't here anymore," Blake said. "Ben told me he's gone. Didn't you, Ben?"
"Yeah, well." Ben scratched his nose. "He's not gone anymore. He's been back since – actually, since the day after you were here."
"Oh," Blake said. "That's good, I guess. Did you two talk about…"
"Ah, no. But." Ben tore a pack of chips open and poured the chips into a large bowl. "I don't think it'll work out. Jesse is – only temporarily in town. He'll leave in, I don't know, a few weeks maybe?"
"And where is he now?"
Jesse was at Claire's, checking on her with the speed that only his powers allowed. Except that he'd already been gone for more than an hour, and Ben was starting to get concerned. Either Jesse and Claire had fought to the death, or something had happened, or–
"Ben? Hey, is something wrong?" Blake rested a hand on his shoulder.
"No, everything's fine." Ben turned to him with a smile. "Jesse'll be here soon. There's something he had to do, but he wouldn't miss Tuesday movie nights for the world."
"I'm sure he wouldn't," Katie said with a giggle.
They settled with pizza and a horror movie. Ben forgot the title as soon as it was on. The plot didn't really register with him, either, and his mind kept jumping from Claire, to Jesse, to the angels – to the whole fucking mess.
"Hey, Ben." Katie flicked a piece of popcorn at him. "What's wrong?"
"What do you mean?" Even to his own ears, Ben's voice sounded off. "Nothing's wrong."
"Ben, please. I know you like you were my own. Something happened?"
"No, nothing." It felt weird, having to lie about anything to Blake and Katie, having to lie about many things. "I had sex with Jesse."
There was a silence. Then Blake said, "Damn. I admit I wasn't expecting that one. So now you and Jesse are– And what about Claire?"
"No, me and Jesse aren't anything. Well, friends, I guess; we're friends who had sex. Like I'm friends with Katie. And Claire – it's still the same as before. We're friends too."
"So that's what's on your mind?" Katie asked, and he could hear the doubt in her voice. "You're having some kind of gay – or, bisexual, I guess – freak out?"
Ben had to give it to her, she was good at spotting deflection. There had to be some other excuse he could give them for his mood. If he told them about the angels and the rest, they'd think he was crazy, and he wouldn't blame them – he sometimes wondered if he hadn't gone crazy.
"It's just the dreams I have," he said with a sigh, trying to sound like he was confessing something without giving away too much. "They're becoming more… vivid. More specific. It's just bothering me. It doesn't help that my love life is a disaster, as you two are so fond of repeating."
"What's the matter with your dreams?" Blake asked. "Have they gotten worse since I left? Because I remember you waking me up screaming at night, and I'd hate to think that it gets worse than that."
"They're not any scarier, just… There's this man in my dreams, Dean's his name, and I don't know who the fuck that is–"
"What, you mean Dean Winchester?"
Hearing that name, in Katie's mouth of all people, made Ben freeze up.
"What did you say?" he breathed.
"Dean Winchester. The man who… you know."
"No, I don't, so tell me."
Ben was siting between Katie and Blake but it didn't keep them from exchanging a long look over his head. They didn't say anything for so long that Ben thought he was going to lose it and start screaming at any moment.
"The man," Blake said, "who saved us. When we were taken, us and a bunch of other kids from the neighborhood back when we were all living in Indiana. Come on, Ben, you can't have forgotten about that."
"I don't have the slightest idea of what you're talking about."
It wasn't exactly the truth. There was something definitely nagging at his memory: being locked up, being afraid, and… fire. Someone burning. He furiously rubbed at his eyes.
"Tell me," he said firmly.
"It's not like there's much more to tell," Blake said. "We were kidnapped… You know, after all these years, I don't even know who did it and why. But I know that this guy, Dean Winchester, was the one who saved us."
"It was around your eighth birthday," Katie said. "When… when my dad died. And this Dean Winchester guy showed up at your birthday party, I remember him."
"You sure?" Blake said with a frown. "I don't have any memory of this."
"Oh, yeah, I remember. He knew your mom, Ben."
"Anyway," Blake said, "a few years later you told us that he'd come back and that he was now living with you and your mom. By that time I had already moved out from Cicero, but I think it lasted a year or so. It was before you moved to Michigan."
"Wait, you're kidding, right?" None of his mom's boyfriends had ever lived with them for that long. "I would remember that stuff."
"I know, that's really strange," Katie said, "because I remember you totally worshiped the guy. I didn't really see him very often, and he was kind of… weird. My mom said he was a drunk and a fuck-up, and that Lisa deserved better."
What are you doing up so late, Dean? Did you have a nightmare? – No, kiddo, I just… I can't sleep. But go to bed and I'll be right after you.
"And then what happened?"
"I don't know." Katie glanced at Blake for confirmation and Blake shook his head. "You moved to Michigan and one day you just stopped talking about him. I figured that things went down ugly between him and your mom and you didn't want to talk about it."
"And – and that kidnapping thing? Why didn't you ever mention it? Was it – what, like a secret?"
"Don't be an asshole, Ben," Blake said, with an annoyed edge to his voice. "We just don't like talking about it. It's not one of our best childhood memories, after all. We thought you felt the same and didn't want to mention it either."
It was like he didn't know his own mind. There were images, feelings, bits and pieces of memories that spun inside his head, round and round in an endless dance of familiar and unknown, and he felt that if he could just focus, could just pin them down and get a grasp on them, then things would start making sense again.
"Ben?"
Hey, Ben. I'm Dean. Everything okay?
You were at my party.
At his party, his eighth birthday party, the one with the awesome moon bounce – the man was there, and then he was at the park and–
Ben, get them out of there!
"I need–" He stood up; the bowl of chips that was on his lap spilled its contents on the floor. "I'll be back."
He dashed for the bathroom, locked himself inside and ignored Blake and Katie's calls. He looked at himself in the mirror but it wasn't his reflection he was watching: he could almost see the man, the short hair, the nose, the mouth, the eyes, the unending sorrow always present there.
And also–
People with black eyes. His mother with black eyes. You know she's begging me to kill you. She says you hold her back. Never had a lick of fun since you were born. A blade pressed against his neck, cold and sharp, making it hard to swallow.
He pressed his fists against his eyes, but it wasn't his eyes that were at work here.
Hey, Ben, want me to show you something? Come on, get your head under the hood–
Dean, there's men in the house.
Good and bad memories blended with each other, combined, morphed into one another, and, curiously, it wasn't the bad ones that hurt the most.
"Stop it," he gritted out. "I don't give a shit, stop it."
"Ben? It's Jesse."
Jesse? I'm not sure what's going on, please help me.
He didn't know whether or not he'd spoken out loud.
"Ben, open up. I just want to make sure you're alright. Your friends are freaking out, there."
Ben went to unlock the door, then sat down on the edge of the bathtub, holding his head in his hands, waiting for Jesse to come in. The door opened slowly and Jesse slid inside, gently closing the door behind him.
"Ben?"
Ben looked down on the floor, his eyes following the beige and cream patterns on the mottled lino. Jesse's shadow fell on him as he approached, and his bare feet came into Ben's field of vision.
"Can you tell me what's wrong?"
Ben raised his head just as Jesse dropped to his knees so they'd be at eye-level.
"I remember," Ben said hoarsely. Jesse nodded, encouraging him to go on. "About Dean Winchester. He saved us, me and Blake and Katie – and some other kids – when we were kidnapped by… God knows what. Later, he was my mom's boyfriend. He lived with us. He was…"
Dean is… sick, Ben. Something happened to him – many things, terrible things – and he's having a really hard time. You need to give him his space, honey.
"And he left. I don't know why." Talking on the phone with Dean, he remembered that: how much he'd wanted the man to come back to them, despite the drinking, the brooding, the screaming nightmares, the odd behavior. He recalled– "I loved him. I wanted him to be my dad. I don't think he was. I don't know."
Jesse sat on his heels, listening to him without a word, his hands laying flat on his thighs. Ben looked at those hands, their tanned color, the too-short nails, the strong fingers. He remembered how smooth they were, uncallused but very warm.
"I knew he was a hunter. That's what you thought Claire was at first, right? Someone who hunts…things. Sometimes he told me stories, but I don't think I really understood them. They were just exciting tall tales to me."
"Do you know who could have messed with your memories?"
Ben tried to focus, but the whirlwind of bright colors and fragmented sentences in his head only swirled harder, to the point that Ben felt like he was at the top of a sky-scraper, looking down to the emptiness beneath, frozen with vertigo.
"Hey. Calm down. You don't have to try so hard."
Jesse's hand came to cup the side of his head, his palm resting against Ben's ear and his fingers in Ben's hair. It was only that touch that made Ben realize how fast and shallow his breathing was, and he forced himself to relax.
"I can't remember," he said, pouring all his will into keeping his voice even. "There's still a lot of holes in there." He pointed a finger at his temple, and Jesse took his hand away.
"I doesn't matter right now," Jesse said, his voice low and gentle. "At least we have a better understanding of the situation. It seems that they're hoping that Dean Winchester still cares enough about you to come out of hiding."
Ben didn't say that if Dean Winchester had cared about him, he wouldn't have disappeared from his life for ten years. But what did he know about it? His memory had more holes in it that a mole-infested garden.
"I know what we have to do to get the final word on that story," he said, standing up, sending a small smile to Jesse. "I need to call my mom."
ooo
It took some convincing to get Blake and Katie to leave rather than hang out all night and watch Ben with worried eyes.
"You sure you don't want us to stay?" Katie asked once more. "I can sleep in Blake's bed, and he can sleep on the floor."
"Ha ha." Blake lightly hit the back of Katie's head. "You can sleep in the bathtub."
"Get your hands off me, you–"
"Hey, guys," Jesse interrupted them; he looked concerned, like he thought they'd actually start fighting. "I'll take care of him. You don't have to worry."
Katie snorted. "Oh, I bet you will."
Blake began to laugh, and Jesse cocked a puzzled eyebrow at them. Ben rolled his eyes and shoved both Blake and Katie out.
"Go home, go to bed, and quit busting my balls, both of you." Blake opened his mouth, undoubtedly to make a dirty joke. "Oh, no, don't say anything." Ben closed the door on his friends with a resounding slam.
"Uh, aren't they going to be mad that you kicked them out that way?" Jesse asked.
"They'll get over it. We've been friends forever."
"Okay, you know them better than I do. Must be cool to have friends like that."
Ben glanced at him, but Jesse wasn't looking in his direction, picking at a piece of pizza cooling in its box.
"You hungry?"
"Hmm, not really, I ate with Claire. Are you going to call your mom now?"
Ben looked at his watch: it wasn't even 10 pm yet.
"I guess I should," he said with a sigh. "If I don't do it now I don't think I'll have the courage to do it later."
Jesse gave him a sympathetic look. "Do you want me to stay with you, or would you rather I go out?"
"Stay." Ben sat heavily on the couch and got his phone out. "Alright. Now or never."
He brought the phone to his ear, and felt the couch shift with Jesse's weight.
"Ben, is everything alright?"
The rich sound of his mother's voice made Ben want to transport himself to Michigan – which he could, now that he thought about it, if he asked Jesse to take him – and find safety in her arms.
"Yes, mom, everything's fine."
"Tuesday night is your night with your friends, isn't it? Something must be wrong."
"Actually…" Ben closed his fist, tightly enough that he felt the bite of his fingernails into his palm. "You remember when I called you the other day? I asked you about Dean Winchester."
There was a long pause at the other end of the line. Ben couldn't even hear her breathing.
"Mom?"
"I remember."
"How do you know him?" He wouldn't let her deny that she knew the man. "I remember, mom. I remember about him."
"Everything?"
"Most of it, but that's why I'm calling you. I want to know everything you know. How did you know him? Why did he leave? Why did we lose our memories of him?"
His mom's sigh vibrated in his ear. "I met him when I was nineteen or twenty. We had a weekend together. It was free, no-strings-attached sex. I didn't think I'd ever see him again."
"But he came to my eighth birthday party."
"You remember that too, then. Yes, he came to your party. I think he wanted to hook up again, but when he saw I had a kid… Anyway, he saved you and the other kids from those… shape-shifting monsters." Her voice shook a little on the last words, and she paused for a moment. "That was the craziest thing I'd ever seen. After that, he disappeared for years."
"And he came back again. He lived with us, didn't he? Why did he leave us?"
"He wasn't the same man at all. Something terrible had happened to him – it was related to his brother, although he never gave me the details."
Ben hadn't given much thought about the brother. "His brother – Sam Winchester?"
My brother Sam used to love that shit… Sam, my brother, he always said…
"Yes, Sam. I never really knew him, but Dean and him had this crazy intense relationship. They'd had a pretty messed up childhood and I guess… I thought he was dead, I thought that was the reason – one of the reasons – Dean was the way he was. But Sam came back, and that changed everything. Once Dean started to… go away with him again, hunting, things became more complicated, and we couldn't keep going like that. We had broken up for a while when… Demons came. I was possessed and…"
Black eyes. A knife. Don't listen to her, demons lie, help me Dean, help me mom, I'm scared, please, please.
Jesse nudged him with his knee, breaking his train of thought, and Ben nodded gratefully at him.
"I remember that, Mom. What happened after? How did we lose our memories?"
"I don't know. I know I was hurt, and then nothing. I started to recover my memories about a year ago. I didn't think you remembered too, and I didn't want you to. Ben, it's better to put this behind us. It's all in the past. It doesn't concern us anymore."
If only. "Do you still have a phone number for him?"
"I have several, but… What do you want to do with his phone number?"
"Try to call him, of course."
"I don't think that's a good idea. He's probably…" Ben heard her take a breath in. "I think he's probably dead by now anyway."
"Can you give me the numbers, please?"
"What's going on, Ben? Are you in danger? Did you see something? You're not hurt, are you?"
"Mom, stop freaking out, please. Nothing happened, I swear." He hated lying to her, but there was nothing she could do for him but worry to death. "I just need to speak to Dean. I need to clear this up. You understand, don't you?"
He knew he had her when he heard her sigh again. "Fine. I'll give you the numbers. But promise me you won't do anything dangerous, alright? Dean is… He was a good man, but everything about his life is dangerous."
"Mom, it's fine." His stomach twisted as he added, "I won't do anything dangerous, promise."
He must have not been completely unconvincing, because she ended up giving him three different numbers for Dean Winchester. He said goodbye to his mom, promised at least four times that he wouldn't do anything reckless, and hung up.
"What did she say?" Jesse asked.
"She doesn't know why we couldn't remember anything until recently. I have three cell phone numbers for Dean Winchester, all ten years old, none probably working anymore – if the guy is even still alive."
"Angels and demons seem to think so."
"Yeah. And I guess they would know."
"Are you trying the numbers now?"
Ben rolled one shoulder, then the other. "No. I can't take any more emotional crises tonight. I need some air right now."
He stood up, and caught the twitch of Jesse's leg in his periphery, like Jesse wanted to follow but had thought better of it.
"I'll be right back," Ben said.
Outside he went to lean against the railing of the staircase, breathing in the night air. It mostly smelled like rancid frying oil from the neighbors, but he did feel a bit better after a few breaths. He heard a door close behind him and turned around, thinking it might be Jesse, but it was Mr. Bennet, holding a trash bag and… staring at Ben.
"Good evening?" Ben said, couldn't help the questioning inflection at the end. From the look on Mr. Bennet's face, it wasn't a good evening for him, and it certainly hadn't been for Ben.
"Good evening," Mr. Bennet said in a tight voice, but without adding any insult to wrap up the greeting, which made it all even odder.
"Now, if that's not a sign of the apocalypse," Ben murmured to himself.
ooo
The next day, Ben finished work early, and Claire invited herself to his place.
"You're going to call Dean Winchester?" she asked.
"Yeah. Maybe. If there's nothing good on TV."
"I want to be here when you do it."
She didn't say why, and Ben didn't want to question it because it secretly comforted him to think of having her with him for what was probably going to be a repeat of the day she'd tried to call Castiel – minus the bloodshed and the avenging angels, hopefully.
So there they were, Claire, Jesse and him, all gathered in his apartment in hopes of summoning a voice from the past.
"What are the odds that one of these numbers still works?" Ben asked, to no one in particular.
"It's worth a shot," Jesse said.
The first number was out of service, as was the second one.
"In true dramatic fashion, the third one should be the charm," Ben tried to joke, but it didn't help with the butterflies in his stomach.
He dialed the third number, and in the brief silence that followed, his insides tied into knots.
"It's ringing," he said breathlessly, and Claire and Jesse, sitting on each side of him, both edged closer.
His heart beat steadily, and each beat felt like it stretched to infinity.
"Hello?" The voice was deep, male, and wary. Ben's mouth was too dry to talk for a moment.
"Who's this?" the man asked, his tone bordering on threatening.
"Hello," Ben said quickly, worried that the man would hang up. "Is this Dean Winchester speaking?"
"Who's asking?"
"It's Ben." One of the most common names on the planet, you moron. "Ben Braeden."
Maybe Dean didn't remember him. They hadn't seen each other in almost ten years. Maybe it wasn't Dean on the phone. Maybe it was his brother Sam, or someone else entirely. Or maybe Dean's memories had also been messed with–
"Ben? How– Why– How did you get that number?"
"Mom gave it to me."
"Lisa? That's impossible."
Ben's stomach dropped. "You mean that's impossible because she wasn't supposed to remember you? Like I wasn't supposed to remember you. Is that it?" He felt torn in two – rage burned in his chest, but his head was cold. "Well I do. It's all just come back to me."
"Ben, I– Why are you calling?"
"Are you Dean Winchester?"
"Yes. Yeah, it's me. Did something happen?"
If there had been a hint of emotion in the voice before, it was now gone, and Dean Winchester sounded business-like. It helped Ben find some distance himself, and he told Dean about the demon who had come to the Nugget, the angels who had tried to take him, and Castiel. He didn't say a word of Jesse or Claire.
"Are you at your place right now?"
"Yeah, I'm in–"
"I know where it is. I'll be there as soon as I can."
Dean hung up, leaving Ben gaping at the phone.
"So?" Jesse said. "Don't leave us hanging. What did he say?"
"That he's coming right away – and apparently he knows where I live, which means that all these years, while I didn't know he even existed he was in fact stalking me to his heart's content."
"Creepy. Did he say anything else?"
"He was surprised that I called. I think he's the reason I couldn't remember anything."
"Maybe, but," Jesse scratched his nose thoughtfully, "the question remains – how did he do it? He's human, he couldn't just have wiggled his fingers."
"But an angel could have," Claire said darkly, "and I know for a fact that Castiel had a lot of respect for Dean Winchester. He might have done it if asked."
Ben thought of the man who had saved him; of the angel who had killed his fellow angels to protect him – and why? For Dean Winchester? Thinking back to the angel's cool façade, there was no clue to decide whether or not Castiel had done anything to Ben and his mother. No recognition, no embarrassment, no remorse.
"I guess we'll just have to ask him," Ben said wryly. "I don't where he is, so maybe he'll need hours, or a day–"
Someone knocked on the door and Ben, Jesse and Claire looked at each other.
"Are we waiting for someone?" Jesse asked, lifting an eyebrow.
"No," Ben said, and stood up. "But I don't think demons or angels would knock on the door before kidnapping us, would they? What's the worse thing it could be?"
"Jehovah Witnesses?" Jesse said behind him as Ben walked up to the door.
It wasn't Jehovah Witnesses; it wasn't demons or angels, for that matter.
"Ben?" said the man standing in front of him. He looked to be in his forties: his temples were greying and there were crinkles at the corner of his eyes, but Ben could never have mistaken him for someone else.
"Dean?" He hated how young he sounded. "How can you be here so fast?"
"I – kinda used my angel taxi."
Dean stepped aside, and Ben saw that Castiel was standing next to him.
"Hello, Ben," Castiel said. "I'm glad to find you in good health."
Dean cleared his throat, shuffled his feet and looked down briefly. "Can we come in?"
"One question. Did you erase my and Mom's memories of you? Or rather, did you have Castiel do it?"
Dean's jaws ticked, and he sighed, grazing his knuckles against a scar on his forehead.
"Yeah," he said.
"I didn't erase your memories," Castiel intervened, and Dean sent him an acerbic look. "It would have damaged your mind too much. I merely erected a wall and manufactured a few memories to hide the juncture points. It seems that my work has weakened with time." He sounded almost apologetic about that fact.
"Ben," Dean started, "if I had him do that it's because–"
"Don't," Ben said. "I don't want to hear it. It doesn't matter now, and we have more pressing issues. Come on in."
They got inside and Dean and Castiel found themselves face to face with Claire and Jesse. Claire was standing, her hands joined in front of her like she was welcoming guests, except that her eyes were fixed on Castiel and the expression on her face was completely foreign to Ben. Jesse remained sitting, eyeing Dean and Castiel with a forced nonchalance.
"Claire," Castiel said, and Dean's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I'm very sorry I didn't come when you called me; I heard you but was otherwise occupied with some of my brethren."
"Yeah, I guess they didn't want you distracting them while they tried to take Ben and Claire," Jesse said.
"And who are you again?" Dean asked him abruptly.
"He's a friend," Ben said.
"You are Jesse Turner," Castiel said after contemplating Jesse for a few seconds, and Ben cursed the angel inwardly. "The Anti-Christ."
"Oh, yes," Jesse said at Ben's puzzled glance. "I forgot to tell you about my other middle name."
"What the fuck is going on?" Dean said. "Jimmy's kid," he ignored Claire's blazing look, "and the half-demon kid, and Ben? Is there a party going on we didn't get invited to? How did the three of you hook up?"
"Claire and I have known each other for about two years now," Ben said. "We met at college."
"I can explain this part," Castiel said. "I arranged for Ben and Claire to be in the same university." Dean frowned at him and he added, "I thought it would make it easier to watch over the both of them."
"Okay, that definitely ups the creepy," Jesse commented, earning himself a glare from Dean.
"What's the explanation for you, kid?" Dean asked, his voice low and threatening. "I remember you. Nebraska? The tooth fairy, and the itching powder, and–"
Jesse had gone deathly pale. "Stop it!" Ben snapped. "Jesse's our friend. He's looking out for us."
"Do you know what he is?" Dean asked in a quiet voice.
"Yes, and it doesn't matter to me. He's never hurt us. He's protecting us."
"Why?"
Ben looked in Jesse's direction with a silent question. "You can tell him," Jesse said, sounding a bit shaken. "It may be important."
Ben told Dean and Castiel about the angel in Australia, about the sword he'd given Jesse and the instructions to protect Ben and Claire.
"May I see the sword?" Castiel asked, turning to Jesse.
There was nothing in his demeanor to betray the fact that he had once thought Jesse was so dangerous that he needed to be eliminated. Claire still hadn't said a single word, but her eyes were on Castiel, drinking the sight of him. Ben stepped to her side, offering silent support, and she smiled at him.
Jesse looked up to Castiel, his mouth pursed, like he was pondering his answer. Ben wondered if he was afraid, but if he was it didn't show on his face. Jesse finally shrugged and the dagger materialized in his hand.
"Knock yourself out."
Castiel turned the weapon over in his hands, examining it closely.
"It really is an angel blade," he said. Then to Ben's surprise, he handed the sword back to Jesse.
"Why would an angel give that kind of weapon to a half-demon?" Dean asked.
"It would have to be an angel who wanted him to be able to kill other angels, I imagine," Castiel answered.
"A traitor?" Dean said, then glanced at Castiel. "Although that's a very relative notion, I guess. The question is – what did the angels who tried to take Ben and Claire want? And demons? Ben, you said something about demons?"
"Yeah, that girl came to me at the Nugget – that's the restaurant on campus where I work. She talked about there being walls in my mind. I guess I know what she meant by that, now." Dean had the good grace to look away. "She said to call her Meg."
That name might as well have been a bomb. Dean's face twisted in fury, then hardened in a cold mask, and even Castiel tensed up.
"Meg," Dean said in a deadly calm voice. "I'll be damned."
"I take it that you know her," Claire said, and Dean looked up at her in surprise, like he hadn't thought she could talk.
"Yes," he said. "She's an old, old enemy – a never-ending pain in my ass. She probably hoped that showing herself to Ben would bring me running into town."
"Little did she know," Ben said sarcastically.
Dean took a deep breath, and Ben thought he was about to retort – and kind of hoped that he did, as part of Ben itched for a fight – but instead Dean uncurled his fists and kept his arms still by his sides.
"She's probably still around somewhere," he said, and his tone had taken on this odd, business-like quality that Ben didn't remember from before. "She tends to prefer to work alone, but something doesn't quite add up." He frowned, like he was trying to squint at something in the dark. "I think that Cas and me should start poking around and see what comes out. We'll get back to you kids later."
And then they were gone, Castiel and Dean, as suddenly as they had arrived, leaving Ben stunned in their wake.
"Well, fuck," Jesse swore, slumping down in the couch. "That was… awkward."
Claire sent him a half-hearted glare, but went to sit next to him. She looked worn out.
"How're you feeling?" Ben asked her.
"He looked the same," she said. "Exactly the same as the last time I saw him. He's even wearing the same clothes."
"Is your dad still… awake in there?"
"I'm not sure. I was, somewhat, when Castiel possessed me, but after all this time…"
Jesse squirmed, looking uncomfortable. "Isn't there any way Castiel could give you your father back? I mean, it's been more than a decade."
"He could take me again. I asked him to do it, actually."
"What? When?" Ben asked with alarm.
"Earlier, when you and Dean were discussing the demon Meg. I asked him in my mind; I knew he would hear me."
"That's completely insane," Jesse said, the undertone of something akin to anger in his voice. "You don't ask for something like that; being used like a puppet, not even belonging to yourself? You can't–"
"He refused," Claire said, interrupting his rant. "He said he promised my father."
"Claire," Ben said, trying to sound calmer than Jesse had, even though he felt his heart flutter with panic at the thought of Claire being taken away by an angel. "I understand that you want to free your father, but… That's like prison, a life-sentence. You–"
"Didn't you hear what I just said?" She was starting to sound annoyed. "It's unlikely to happen if he doesn't want me to be his vessel."
"I know, but… What if he changes his mind? You don't hate your life that much, do you?"
Claire crossed her arms, picking at the bandage on her forearm. "It's not like that. And I don't want to discuss this anymore."
"Okay, okay." Ben raised his hands in surrender. "Do you want to stay here tonight? You can have Blake's bed."
"Hey, now that's unfair," Jesse interjected, and Ben could tell that he was trying hard to sound light-hearted. "Why does she have the bed, but I always get the couch?"
"Because she's prettier than you," Ben said, and felt accomplished when it brought a smile to Claire's lips.
"That's the nicest compliment you've ever given me, Ben," she said, and chuckled when Ben's face heated up. "I'm too tired to go back home, so I accept your offer. I…" Her expression sobered up again. "I don't really want to be alone tonight."
Jesse's hand moved from where it rested on his knee, and Ben thought he was going to offer Claire a gesture of comfort, but he didn't. Later that night, while Claire was in the bathroom, Jesse turned to Ben, looking unusually serious.
"Did Claire and you used to date?"
"Uh, no. Why're you asking?"
"There's this… tension between you two. And I'm usually not good at guessing this shit so it has to be pretty thick."
"Oh. I was joking earlier, you know," Ben said, then felt utterly stupid. What did he even mean by that?
Jesse gave him an indulgent smile. "I'm not just talking about that. You like her, don't you?"
Ben sighed. "Okay, yes, I do, but she doesn't feel the same way, and please, I get enough shit about it from Blake and Katie. I know I'm pathetic, I know I–"
"Hey, no, that's not what I think – and mate, don't take my word on this because like I said, I'm no good at figuring out people and relationships, but she does seem to care about you a lot."
"Yeah, sure, as a friend."
"Maybe. I just – I don't want to come between you or anything. Like the other day–"
"The other day had nothing to do with Claire," Ben said, a little curtly. The situation was strange to him – never before had he slept with someone and lived with this odd status quo afterwards, but he felt like anything could spook Jesse away, and if he didn't know what he wanted, he knew what he didn't want. "What happened between you and me is just between you and me. We had fun; it doesn't have to be a thing."
They were standing not far from each other; it often seemed like Jesse had little notion of personal space, and Ben had grown to be comfortable with that. It felt like a punch in the gut, then, when Jesse moved away and looked down.
"Yeah," he said to his feet. "I wanted to make sure things were clear. Anyway, everything that's happened lately is gonna bring you and Claire closer, so I don't think you should give up hope. I'll probably be gone soon – as soon as I know you're both safe."
"Yeah, okay," Ben said, and tried to swallow through the lump in his throat. "You know you can stay as long as you want. I won't kick you out or anything."
"I know, thanks. It was really cool of you to– I didn't expect you to make it that easy for me to watch over you. I thought I'd have to do a lot more creepy stalking."
They both laughed, but Ben felt like there was a hole in his chest getting dug deeper and deeper by a panicked rodent like in some twisted medieval torture practice, and his own laugh must have sounded pretty hollow. Jesse looked completely oblivious.
Ben didn't sleep very well that night, and his dreams were anxious and confused.