Chapter Three "Night Terrors"

Sam and Cas buried Dean in Maine. Sam suspected that Dean probably would have wanted a hunter's funeral, but he didn't say, and the fact that Dean had buried Benny as well set a precedent. It was a long drive, followed by what seemed to be an even longer hike, but they finally reached the place the portal opened. Nearby was a distinctive boulder under a tree, marking Benny's grave. It was dark by the time they had managed to dig a deep enough hole.

Sam felt a sickening twist in his gut as he remembered the last time he'd done this. He buried his brother believing he would come back. Determined to save him at all costs.

Right now, Sam didn't have those kind of ambitions. He wanted Dean back, but he also knew that Dean would never come. Not without a very good reason, and Sam missing him wasn't a good enough reason.

Once they began pouring dirt over Dean's empty body, things went faster. Sam felt as if he were in a dream. This wasn't really happening. He'd spent the entire trip from the bunker thinking about just how wrong this all was. After everything they'd been through, to have it all end like this...

That's when Sam knew what he had to do. He had to kill the Alpha. Cas may have had Dean's blood on his hands, but it was the Alpha who caused all this. Obviously, Dean's death hadn't been part of the plan, but what did the monster king really think was going to happen when he turned a hunter? Hunters didn't turn into monsters. Hunters died. It was some kind of rule.

As they trekked back to the car, Sam began to notice Cas' heavy breathing, how difficult it was for him to keep up. If he had been human, Sam would have thought nothing of it. But Cas was still an angel. Had his borrowed grace really worn so far down?

Sam got the feeling that looking out for each other was going to be a lot more complicated than he initially expected. When wasn't it?

"I'll drive for a while," Cas said when they reached the road.

Sam knew how worn out Cas was, but he didn't really sleep, so it couldn't hurt. And Sam had to admit, he was exhausted. More emotionally than physically, but he would welcome a few hours of blissful sleep. He turned the radio on as the Impala bore down the highway. It wasn't that Sam really liked Dean's music, but he'd gotten so used to it, that it felt wrong not to have it on. With that, Sam was able to fall asleep.

But it was far from a peaceful rest. Sam dreamed, like he always did, that he was possessed by Gadreel and just about to kill Kevin. He saw that same terrified look in Kevin's eyes. Just before he turned into Dean.

Sam woke up screaming. It was daylight, and Cas had stopped the car in the middle of the road to stare at him. For a second, nothing else happened. Sam's throat hurt.

"Maybe we should stop for food," Cas said.

Sam realized it was probably less embarrassing for Cas to pull into a nearby fast food joint than to keep driving after he'd stopped like that. At least they were in a small town, and there was next to no traffic that early in the morning.

It wasn't until they had sat down inside, Sam with his food and Cas with a cup of coffee, that either of them spoke again.

"What were you dreaming about?" Cas asked.

"Kevin," Sam lied. It was easier to say Kevin because he didn't want to talk about Dean.

"Oh," Cas looked down into the Styrofoam cup in his hands. He'd been expecting another answer.

Sam knew he should probably confide in Cas. He should get used to talking about these things because there would be no one else to share them with. But he wasn't ready yet. It felt like he had just gotten Dean back only to lose him all over again. Cas was great, but he was no substitute for Sam's brother. For now, they'd just have to suffer through some awkward silences until they learned how to talk to each other.

But Sam did have a job on his mind. He could talk about that. "I think when we get home we should start looking for the Alpha," he said.

"Sam, I don't think—"

"He's planning something, right? He needed Dean for his scheme. Don't you think we should stop him?"

"Yes. But finding him is only one small step in that. He's stronger than us, and he's always heavily guarded. I barely got Dean out of there as it was. Killing the Alpha is simply a bigger job than us."

"What then? You think we should just give up?"

"No. We'll just have to be more... creative. I want to do what Dean would have done just as much as you do, but the 'guns blazing' approach will only get us killed."

Sam shook his head. "You don't want it like I do. Do you even know what it's like to... to hate something so much?"

"Perhaps..." Cas began, then faltered, as if thinking carefully about his response. "Perhaps is it possible to hate oneself to the same degree. Though not in the same way, I suppose."

Sam didn't have anything to say to that. Sure, he knew what guilt was. He'd hated himself plenty after all he had done. Not like Dean did, though. Nor, apparently as Cas did. It seemed that they had the corner on self-loathing. It scared Sam a little to think that anyone could carry that much within themselves.

"Okay," Sam finally said. "We do this right. However long it takes."

Cas nodded and took a sip of his coffee before looking out the window, squinting in the sunlight.

~oOo~

Dean didn't dream about eyes anymore. His nightmares were much more clear and yet somehow more confusing. He was transported back to the time when he still had the Mark of Cain. Only this time, Sam didn't save him. He was a demon, and he liked it. He killed his way through hordes of faceless people. They didn't matter. They were expendable.

Then he got to the end of the line of bodies, and there stood Sam and Cas. No. Sam was dead. Dean didn't know how that had happened. And Cas was on his knees in the grass, bleeding. Dean held his own angel blade at his throat.

Dean felt himself smile. He felt a surge of excitement, pleasure at the very thought of what he was about to do. He made it slow. He carved out pieces until there was hardly anything left. Just a tiny, glowing heart still clinging to life, to hope. Dean hated it. He wanted it to die. But no matter how many times he stabbed at it, the thing kept glowing with a blue light, pulsing with vitality.

Dean stood back and watched as the heart began to expand, and soon it had rebuilt every part of Cas that had once been there. He stood, now towering over Dean, his wings spread wide. He was shining brighter than he ever had before, and Dean could feel his eyes burning. But he couldn't turn away. This thing—it was hardly Cas anymore—was simultaneously beautiful and horrifying.

Dean felt an animalistic scream of rage rise up in his throat, and he lunged forward, stabbing blindly until the light went out and everything was left in darkness.

Dean woke with that scream dying on his lips. Emma never said anything. She didn't ask what he dreamed of or if he was okay. She had no reason to care.

Still, he thought it was strange that he would experience such insane dreams while she had nearly none. Sometimes, she twitched in her sleep or muttered indecipherable strings of words, but never anything that made her wake in a cold sweat, terrified to ever fall asleep again.

Dean concluded that she simply hadn't lived long enough to have many nightmares. A few days wasn't enough time to be as thoroughly traumatized as Dean knew he was.

Most of their time, however, was spent walking. They continued in a southerly direction, Emma sometimes noting landmarks she recognized. Dean hadn't come this way the last time. He'd been more toward the north. Which was probably why his earlier visit had been so much more eventful than this one. There were monsters in this region, but fewer and weaker. They came here because it was ruled by no one. It was comparably safe. Dean decided to kill only when he had to. If he smelled something nearby but it made no attempt to come after them, he left it alone. Maybe that was unwise, but as adept at killing as he was, Dean was growing tired of it. Probably because he did so much of it in his sleep anyway.

"What are we going to do once we find your friend?" Emma asked one day.

"Keep going," Dean replied.

"Keep going where?"

"I don't know. Anywhere. It goes on forever."

She didn't ask him many questions after that.

~oOo~

One year ago...

Benny woke to a pair of very different sensations. The first was the sound of faint singing. In French. At the same time, he caught the scent of fresh blood, not an hour old.

Benny sat up, and instantly and involuntary groan escaped his lips. The adrenaline rush of last night had worn off, and now everything hurt.

The blood stench was coming from the body of a werewolf lying a few feet away with it's head severed. The dark red fluid stained the ground and the pallid skin along the clean cut through it's neck.

The source of the singing was Lenore as she sat on the other side of the body, cutting his clothes into neat strips with her knife.

The juxtaposition of beauty and death was almost overwhelming.

But Benny had to laugh. "La Vie en rose?" he said.

Lenore stopped singing and looked up at him. "My grandmother used to sing it to me when I was a child. If I was sad or afraid. I haven't heard it in a long time."

"Vous avez une belle voix," Benny said.

Lenore smiled. "I suppose you picked that up in Louisiana?" So, she had noticed.

Benny nodded. "Haven't used it in a long time. My accent's getting rusty."

"I think it's fine."

"Was your grandmother from France, or did she just like Edith Piaf?"

"Both." Lenore turned back to her work. "She promised to take me to Paris someday. But that was before... well..."

Benny knew what the before meant. Before she was turned. Before she became a monster. "So you never went?"

"Sitting in a confined space with a bunch of prepackaged meals never seemed like a good idea."

"I suppose they wouldn't let you take blood bags on a plane. Might attract some unwanted questions."

"Did you ever travel?"

"On a boat. A lot of boats. Ships. Just about anything seaworthy. Piracy seemed like a good idea at the time."

"When did it stop being a good idea?"

"When the target was a beautiful woman." Benny smiled ruefully. Andrea had been beautiful in more ways than one, but her memory was tainted now.

"And your crew didn't like that," Lenore deduced. "Made an example of you."

"Wasn't wise to cross The Old Man. I got him back in the end."

Lenore looked up with a confused expression. "How did you manage that?"

"I mentioned that I helped a couple humans, didn't I? Well, it started when one of them got trapped in here. I helped him get out in exchange for a ride."

"There's a way out?" Lenore seemed far too excited about this prospect.

"Not for us. For humans. They don't belong here. But I learned a spell. A way I could tag along. But without a human, it's useless."

"If you had a human for an ally, how did you end up back here?"

"His brother was stuck here and didn't know the way out."

"So you died to save your friend's brother?"

Benny almost wanted to laugh hearing it out loud like that. "You make it sound so pathetic."

"Guess it depends on how you felt about your friend's brother."

"He hated me. Hunters tend to feel that way about vampires."

"Wait a second, you helped a hunter out of here and he kept his end? You said he was your friend? And..." A strange sort of realization dawned in Lenore's eyes. "It was Sam Winchester, wasn't it?"

It was Benny's turn to be surprised. "You know them? Did they kill you?"

"Technically no. It was Sam who convinced Dean not to kill me. But later... later I wanted to die, and their friend did it. I think he was an angel."

"Castiel. He was here too. Long story. But it was Dean who got me out."

Lenore frowned. "That doesn't seem like him. And why would Sam hate you? If you weren't killing anyone?"

"I think it had more to do with his brother making new friends than anything. He didn't trust me."

Lenore shook her head with an amused look. "How times change."

"He came around in the end. When I saved his ass. I was supposed to go back with him, but..."

Benny didn't look at Lenore with those last words. He hadn't meant to bring that up. How he never intended to return. Why he knew he belonged here.

But Lenore seemed to understand without him needing to explain. "There's no place for a vampire that doesn't kill," she said bitterly. "We need to check your wounds. I made bandages."

Benny wasn't surprised by the change of subject, but he hadn't realized that was what she was doing with the werewolf's shirt. It made sense, though. So, he let her check the multiple injuries that seemed to hurt more now than they had yesterday. She spent the most time on the stab wound in his side and the chunk of missing flesh from his shoulder. But there were plenty of other cuts and claws and teeth marks that she looked at too. Finally, she declared that he was fit to travel.

"We have to bury the body first, though," she said, nodding toward the werewolf. "He came within range early this morning, and smelled us."

"Smelled me," Benny said. "No need to be polite."

"Only because you're bleeding. In a few days, the smell won't be so strong."

"We gonna be alive in a few days?"

"If I can help it."

She may have been small and kind, but Lenore had a fierceness in her eyes that made Benny certain that she would take on just about anything. To protect him. That was a funny feeling. He had managed to claim her loyalty in less than a day, and he doubted she would ever go back on that. She was too much like him.

They buried the body as quickly as they could, taking what supplies they could get off him. Lenore kept his jacket, even though it was much too big. Her own clothes were wearing thin enough that she didn't seem to care.

They made decent time, but Benny could only walk so fast with all his bumps and bruises. He knew he was slowing them down to a dangerous degree, but there was no other option. Lenore had thrown in her lot with him. So, Benny made himself a promise. If they made it through this, if they lived long enough for him to regain his strength, he would repay her. He would be as loyal to Lenore as he had ever been to Dean.

I don't speak French at all, so I hope my translation was accurate. I thought the adjective would have been in a different place in the sentence "you have a beautiful voice" than it was in the French translation I was able to find, but maybe the syntax is the same as English in this case. If anyone knows for sure, let me know, and I can edit it if needed.