Benny had gotten sloppy, careless even. The smell of his mistake hung heavily in the dank early morning air. In the shrouded, heavily wooded area with dense trees acting to cloak him, he looked down at the sprawled out remains of three deer – his latest binge – at his feet. Faint traces of blood mixed in with flicks dew on the grass at his feet and his lips curled back, hissing at the drops of his meal he'd let go to waste. The sky was beginning to color as the moon set and slight peaks of sun rays pooled in over the horizon. He closed his eyes at the sight, basking in the first bit of the day's warmth, a sensation he'd enjoyed as often as possible since being thrust out of Purgatory.
The moment was fleeting, however, as he turned back to the animal carcasses. In the three months since his release from Purgatory, he'd only fed on animal blood. It was strange, though, when he considered this behavioral evolution. Before Purgatory, the thought of feeding and existing solely on the blood of animals made his stomach curl. But now, his sense of everything seemed sharper and as the sweet drops of red flowed into his mouth and dribbled down his chin when he sank sharpened fangs into a warm body, he smiled into his puncture wound, savoring the taste while holding the animal steady. Occasionally, he had caught himself wondering how much sweeter the blood of a human would taste now but quickly shook the thought from his head. That was a path he wouldn't travel again – it was a vow he'd made to a friend and a damn skilled hunter.
Nonetheless, he'd gotten too carefree as of late. He had returned to the town of his origin, a prodigal undead son, and made a life for himself in the few short weeks he'd been around. He'd found a job and the closest thing he had to a friend since Dean had all but taken him in. It was the first bit of happiness that found him in a long while but still… too many animal remains with puncture wounds and drained dry of all bits of blood? No, he needed to stop this – to stretch out his feedings or to travel further when the hunger pangs became almost too intense to function. He wouldn't risk this life he had now. Never. Something else was threatening to do so for him and the thought made him swallow thickly. Just a town over, there'd been talk of some creature leaving the remains of dead animals all over that just so happened to be dry of their blood. The talk had begun to escalate when human remains had begun to appear as dry as the animals. Benny wouldn't allow whatever the hell this was run him from his home. Nothing was going to do that again if he had any say in the matter. So, he kept his head down and busied himself with work at the diner and mingled with townspeople like any other human would do.
He couldn't risk drawing similar attention to his home and to himself so he scooped up the two deer bodies, easily resting one over each shoulder, and marched back to his clunker of a pick-up truck. Once upon a time in another life and another dimension, a friend he'd not spoken to in what felt like ages, told him tales of the modern world and things he'd missed out on. When he would get to the part about how modern vehicles and changed and progressed (or regressed, as he would say), disdain dripped from every word. Benny would soon find himself in agreement with his comrade come time to choose an automobile for himself. So, he picked the oldest one he could find that still ran decent with enough cargo space for inconvenient times such as these. So with a huff, he tossed the bodies on a black tarp in the bed of his pick-up and threw another one over it, tucking it in securely. He'd take care of the bodies. He always did.
He found himself wiping sweat from his brow, still in contemplation walking towards the driver side door. Even in the fall, the early morning heat of Louisiana made dampness pool around his collar and under his armpits and it was not a sensation that he'd missed while in Purgatory, he realized. It was consistent with human physiology, though, so he was grateful.
"Guess I betta be getting' on." He drawled, climbing into the cab of the truck.
The first time Dean and Benny laid eyes on one another after Purgatory, the shock pierced through Benny so deeply, he thought someone had driven a stake through his heart when he wasn't looking. There he stood under the night sky, with a familiar scowl ghosting across his features and his axe held so tight in his hand that he trembled. Benny's postured relaxed and he straightened, raising his hands to show he meant no harm to Dean and the tall man that stood behind Benny and moved slowly to approach. Benny could hear the beating of the man's heart and knew from the rhythm he was the one from the warehouse.
Dean exhaled sharply when his eyes traced over to Benny and shook so violently, he needed to clutch the handle of the axe tighter to make sure it didn't fall from his grip. Dean returned Benny's gestured and straightened to full height. Sam stalked closer and closer behind Benny with an axe rising in his arms. Dean blinked, a frown drawing his brows close together before he bellowed out to the other man.
"Sam! Stop!" Sam obeyed, Benny noticed. His hands grasped onto his weapon tightly but he made no further move on his trek to behead Benny. "Benny?" Benny's eyes flickered and a small spread across his face, knowing if he had been human, he wouldn't have been able to hear Dean's question.
Benny took a step forward, putting space between himself and Sam. "Oh, is it good to see you, brotha. Last time we were together, you weren't lookin' too good."
Dean smiled and took steps toward Benny. A laugh escaped from his lips and the two men embraced. "Christ, man." He clapped Benny's shoulder as they pulled apart and they eyes each other, searching for injuries – a habit from Purgatory that did not break. "You alright?" Dean asked, noting faint traces of blood sprinkled over Benny's white shirt and black suspenders.
"Don't be givin' me that eye. It ain't mine." Dean's smiled slipped from his face and he took half a step back. "Relax, Dean. It ain't mine and it ain't human."
"You been feeding on animals?"
"Exclusively." He nodded and Dean exhaled. "Y'know, I never did appreciate venison before Purgatory."
"Bambi? You're out here eating freaking Bambi?" Dean joked with a smile.
"I think it must be all the grass they eat, brotha. Tastes better than I remember."
"Dean!" Sam called from his spot just over Benny's shoulder. Dean had almost forgotten his brother was there watching their exchange with wide eyes and a mix of confusion and frustration coming off him in waves. This hunt hadn't been an easy one for them. Hunting vampires wasn't a difficult task but the heat of Louisiana, even in the fall, worked to fuel Dean's anxiety and his quiet spells. Sam hemmed and hawed but Dean waved him away, assuring that he was okay, he just wasn't used to hot weather anymore. When the nightmares hit while they both slept in their motel room (the first time they'd shared a room in weeks), Dean would awake caked in sweat, the cold sweat the nightmares would bring and the kind brought on by the muggy heat in their motel room with a broken air conditioner and a pitiful fan blowing from the corner of the room. Now he watched as his brother stared at him while he greeted a friend, a vampire, with warmth and familiarity. The same vampire they thought they'd been hunting only three minutes ago.
"Sam," he said, walking closer to his brother, "this is Benny. From Purgatory."
"Yeah, I figured that much."
"Sam, relax would ya? Benny's - he's a good guy. Trust me."
"Pleasure to meet ya there, Sam." Benny extended a hand and chuckled softly when Sam did not return the gesture.
"Are you the one out there killing those people?" Sam asked, ignoring Dean's glare and the clenching of his jaw.
"Straight to the point aren't ya, kid?" Benny watched from the corner of his eye as Dean stared harshly at Sam, an expression he found himself on the other side of too many times to count while they were in Purgatory. "It ain't me." A clipped, curt response for an equally terse question.
"Huh. How many other vampires do you know of around here?"
"Sam…" Dean warned.
"Dean. I know you think this guy is your friend, but if he's out here killing people then…" Sam let his voice trail off and Benny growled low in his throat before he could contain himself. Sam blinked in surprise and continued, "The bodies show up just before the sun comes up every Thursday before the sun rises like clockwork. Explain that."
"I don't owe you any explanation, boy."
"Like hell you don't."
"It. Ain't. Me."
"Prove it."
"Don't know how much good it'll do. Seems like you got your mind made up there." Benny turned to Dean, eyes imploring for trust.
Dean heaved a heavy sigh and ran a hand down his sweat-slick face. "Well, lucky for the both of you that today just so happens to be Wednesday." Dean thumbed the axe blade in his hand and drew a few droplets of blood stained the cold metal. Dean's eyes flicked up to Benny and watched as his nostrils flared but he remained still. A faint smile traced on the outline of Dean's lips before he sucked the blood away from his own finger and turned on his heels, walking back to where the Impala was parked. "Are you comin' or not?!" He called off. "And Sam, don't you think about beheading anybody tonight!"
The journey back to the car was tense with an awkward silence hanging overhead. Neither man spoke until they reached the Impala, parked next to Benny's pick-up. Benny instinctively walked back to his own car but turned when Dean called.
"You're riding with us, Benny."
"That's a beauty of a car you got there, Dean, but I am more than capable of following you to whatever hole-in-the-wall you're stayin' in."
"Look, Benny. It's not like I don't trust you here, but we need to eliminate as many variables as possible here. We'll bring you back to your car tomorrow after we check to see if any more bodies turn up." Sam huffed and threw himself into the passenger seat. "You'll be safe. I swear it."
"I don't doubt you, Dean. Your brother, on the other hand…"
"You have my word that nothing is going to happen to you while you're with us." Benny rubbed at his brow and climbed out of the truck and went to the rear driver side door before smiling at Dean. "It's good to see you're still in one piece, man. I mean it."
"You too, brotha. You too."
The drive to the motel was filled with as much uncomfortable silence as the walk to the car. Sam occupied himself by staring out of the window and Dean drove fast, gripping the steering wheel tight in both hands. No music played on the radio, which surprised Benny when he considered how much Dean hummed and sang to himself when he thought no one was around back in Purgatory. He watched as Dean's jaw clenched and unclenched and fidgeted in his seat, the leather squeaking underneath him.
Even in the darkness, Benny could matching sets of dark rings under the eyes of the Winchesters. Dean shifted in his seat again under Benny's watchful gaze and he wondered what it'd been like for Dean these past few weeks.
Benny had been able to find a home in a Podunk town with a long-lost relative and relative peace, until it was invaded by some unknown nuisance that he sought to avoid. In that peace, he was able to gain some type of control, control that was highlighted when Dean sliced into his thumb and even with the sweet fragrance of adrenaline-filled blood wafting to his nostrils, he still didn't react. Dean, on the other hand, looked exhausted. His hyper vigilance, leadership and stealth showed when he almost attacked Benny and managed to rein his brother in from doing the same. But without the added adrenaline pumping through his blood (blood that Benny could still smell), he slumped a bit in his seat and blinked slowly, clearly on the brink. Sam didn't look much better – except he did little to hide is discomfort with Benny, the agitation he carried, and something else; something that looked like worry – for Dean. Sam's eyes flicked to Dean when he thought the elder Winchester wasn't watching and his eyes softened when he took sight of Dean's slightly hunched shoulder and pale knuckles from gripping the steering wheel too hard.
As if he knew he was being observed by both passengers, Dean was the first to speak. "We're going to find a motel closer to the next town."
"You think that's such a good idea, Dean?" Benny drawled. "I mean, if baby brotha' is right and I am the one killing these things, you think deliverin' me there like a purty little present is smart?"
Sam groaned but Dean chuckled low. "Shut it, Benny."
And they drove off down an empty road in relative silence, with only the purr of the Impala underneath them.
