It'd been a long drive that stretched toward forever. She'd been asleep for most of the trip, plagued by extreme exhaustion, both physical and mental, and her rest had not been peaceful. Images and voices of her last week strobed through her dreams, flitting on the edges of her subconscious like hiding ghosts. They didn't even let her wake up as a reprieve. When her body finally came up on its own, they were four hours out of Lawrence, and for the whole drive, she hadn't uttered a single word.

The very first thing she did after arriving to the little roadside inn outside the city was head for the bathroom. She didn't shut the door completely, but it'd been a good hour and a half since she peeled off her change of clothes and submerged herself in a tub full of the hottest water she could stand.

The smell of generic soap and hotel-shampoo saturated the humidity in the tiny tiled room. Her hair was finally clean and untangled, laying wet on her shoulders, which no longer screamed with deep ache or shredded tissue. But the track-marks of the trauma still crisscrossed her entire back like an urban road map of slightly raised skin, slightly darker than the rest. The same went for circles around her wrists and a strangely geometric square the size of a playing card on her arm. It was the first evidence of the ordeal she'd actually seen, with her own eyes, in the bathroom mirror.

Now, it was covered by two towels she'd hung from the frame.

When the water had gone cold and she'd started shivering, Claire finally got out. There was no use in hiding forever. A glance around the room found every possible entrance to the room lined with salt. Ben sat on the end of the bed, his skin pale and nearly translucent with his exhaustion, every vein in his hands visible as he held up his face. He looked up at the sound of the bathroom door opening, eyes soft and concerned.

Having been leaning against the wall, Jesse straightened, balancing on the balls of his feet as though he might need to spring into action at a moment's notice.

"How are you?" he said, voice hoarse from under use.

There were so many ways she could answer that question; too many filtered through her mind all at once, resulting in an extended silence. Claire folded her lips between her teeth and tried to focus; the menial task of dropping her towel and replacing it with a pair of shorts and tank sapped a lot of that energy.

"Starving," she finally managed, undercutting everything else with the hard truth. Among the other obvious changes to her body, her clothes were just a little looser. Food just hadn't been a priority yet.

"Everything from the gas station's in the cabinet," Ben told her, his own voice raspy. They hadn't really eaten much in the mad dash to chase her either. The perishables had been thrown out at the one hotel they'd stopped at prior to Oregon, but that still left a considerable amount of car-worthy grub.

"I can go get you something, if you want," he added on the coat-tails of his words. "Anything you want." Claire shook her head after pulling the shirt over her shoulders, then crossed over the paisley carpet toward the kitchenette.

"I don't think Twinkies have ever looked so good," she muttered, mostly to herself. Standing on her toes to reach into the cabinet took a lot more energy than she anticipated, and she wavered on her feet. They were all running on empty.

Jesse's hands came up to rest firmly on her waist, holding her steady. "I'll get it; you sit down and rest." She pushed a slightly longer breath through her nose, holding onto Jesse's hands for a moment before seceding.

"The wards up?" she asked after setting down heavily on the edge of the bed, next to Ben. He nodded, sliding his arm around her hip and moving a hair closer.

"Did them myself, and Jesse spotted me. Nothing's getting into this room unless we say it does."

Jesse was quiet as he brought the convenience store foods over, along with a full glass of water. He handed that first to Claire before opening one of the packages. "Your twinkie, miss," he said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. She returned it, and pulled him down to her other side before dissecting the snack cake into three parts and handing each of them a piece, watching her fingers as she did.

Ben held the piece but didn't eat it. He chewed his lip silently before speaking in a quiet voice, "I think the two of you should stay here."

Looking up from his twinkie, Jesse frowned. "Where are you going?" Hungry as she was, Claire didn't wait to stuff her food in her mouth, but chewing, still had the same look on her face as Jesse, aimed at Ben.

"When I went under, I got my memories back," Ben said in the same low tone. "One of them was a way to find my dad. If we all go, there's a chance we'll be intercepted." His eyes lifted to Claire. "Jesse can take care of you a lot better than I can. And if I can find my dad, he'll know what to do. He and my uncle've killed demons before."

"No, Ben. Please," Jesse said, his throat swelling inside. "We can't separate again."

Claire forced herself to swallow back the same knee-jerk reaction. She took a moment to work Ben's words - not to mention the look on his face - through the haze that was her mental capacity. Finally, keeping her eyes on his face, she gently said: "Why do you think it'd be safer for any of us apart?" She wasn't interrogating; she saw a desperate reasoning in his gaze that a deep part of her understood-but at the same time, parting was the absolute last thing she could process right then.

Ben dropped his eyes away from hers, feeling a clench in his chest as he found the words:

"Because we've made each other weaker." He took a breath before barreling on. "Kat said you'd never gotten into such close calls like this in all the time she's known you, and I think she's right. We slow each other down more times than we help. I'm not sayin' I wanna leave entirely, but I think sometimes..." He put the twinkie down on the bed, bringing the heel of his hand up to twist into his eye. "Sometimes it's safer to split up and meet back. And like I said... Jess can keep you safer than me. He went in there and got you out."

"It was my fault she was there in the first place. They got the jump on me just when you were gone a couple minutes," Jesse said, nearly babbling. Claire closed her eyes, taking a shaken breath and looking up to him.

"No-Abbey was tracking us the whole time Ben was out... Maybe longer." Claire squeezed his thigh, trying to reassure them by sheer instinct, but her insides felt like they were rotting. She knew the two of them had to be feeling the same way, even if it were for different reasons. "She was waiting for me to get far enough away from either of you-" Her voice trailed off a bit, knowing she had to continue with the details, but the words were getting tangled in her throat.

"I don't want to have to do that again," Jesse said, as though he'd hardly heard her. "I will, I'll do it again, I'll do anything for you, but... Ben, please."

Ben pushed his hands through his hair and leaned over his knees. "I have to do this. I have to try."

Claire was fighting the swarm of bees in her stomach as she slid down off the bed in order to meet Ben on eye-level. She was aware of the subtle tremble under her skin, especially with the rough, deadened patches on her wrists caught the fabric of his shorts as she stroked both his thighs-she could hear it in her own voice. "I know you do-" she said it pointedly, making an effort to keep her voice level. On the inside, she was screaming. She could see it on Jesse's face too; on both their faces. "We're just-we're drained, we're stressed, and we're scared." Claire was imploring him. Begging, without the words. "Can we just-please-sleep tonight. Come back to this in the morning?"

Jesse felt scattered into pieces just thinking of Ben leaving again, of being separated, of everything that could happen and what he might have to do. And then fire erupted in his veins. He gave a sharp cry, falling to his knees. No, no, not now!But the pain just rushed through every inch of him, causing him to collapse fully to the ground. On instinct combined with urgency and confusion Claire was at his side the next instant, her eyes shot to Ben in panicked questioning. Ben had also looked up sharply at the cry, his hazel eyes going wide with recognition and fear.

"Jess, don't-"

His face twisted up in pain, he managed to gasp out, "I'm sorry." Then he was gone.

Ben had seen Jesse disappear before, but this time it was different: Ben felt it, in his bones, that Jesse might not come back. He shuddered, feeling his resolve crumbling. Claire was just barely holding it together herself, still hunched over the patch of carpet that had once been Jesse. Her eyes wide as saucers and frayed as live wires, shot to Ben.

"What-where is he? What happened?"

"The deal," Ben croaked. "He has to go to Belial whenever he calls. He found a way to put a trace on him, like a supernatural lasso."

The blood drained from Claire's face. She curled up into herself, blanking into space with her knees crammed to her chest on the floor, where she clenched her eyes shut and started to rock. The Deal. The demon from Maine-the same from her cell in Oregon. His name is Belial.Instinctively Ben slid off the bed and to her side, wrapping his arms around her.

"Lord of Arrogance, Lord of Pride; Belial the Defiler," Claire was whispering nonsensically into the bone of her knee. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks; they burned in her eyes, so much that she ground them into the scarred skin behind one wrist-the pressure hurt less. "No no no no, not Jesse, not him, please-"

Ben held her closely, feeling his own tears threaten to fall. "They won't kill him. They need him. He'll be okay, he promised." Claire just shook her head, her shoulders tensed with a deep, shaken breath.

The pieces all clicked together with the utterance of that one hated name, remembered from years of Catechism classes and Catholic School. "No," she croaked again, sniffed hard and looked up to Ben. "He's his father."

Dizziness swept through him like a hurricane. "What?"

As the pain receded, Jesse breathed deep, his eyes still closed. The feel of the wood floor under him sent an unexpected panic through him. He'd known this was coming, had even wanted to see Belial to wring his neck. And the rage was still there. But he'd underestimated the fear. Now that he was there, he could barely bring himself to face it.

The beach was gone. Instead they were in a windowless room with a fireplace, which was the only source of light. In spite of the crackling fire in the hearth, the room was uncharacteristically cold. Belial sat behind a desk, his hands folded, the light of the fire casting menacing shadows across his face.

"Sit."

Stomach twisting, Jesse clenched his jaw as he stood. He stuck his hands in his pockets. "I'd rather stand."

Belial's gaze hardened. The chair moved back a half-inch without ever being touched, and Jesse was forcefully shoved into it by an invisible hand, making his eyes go wide.

"Your petulance is beginning to aggravate me, boy."

"You tried to kill my fucking girlfriend," Jesse snapped, though he swallowed hard. "I don't want to listen to anything you have to say."

The demon's lips twisted wryly on his face before he glowered at him. "Considering the fact that you killed five of your cadet soldiers without a hint of remorse, and assisted in the slaughter of fourteen vessels and thirty human hosts, I think an attempt at taming - not killing - your pet hunter rates very low on the totem pole."

The color drained from Jesse's face. "I didn't... You-you would have made them do terrible things. They're better off dead." The last word came out as a whisper.

"They assisted in conversions. That was never their true purpose, and you know this," Belial barked. He leaned over the desk, his whole face contorted in restrained rage. "It takes eighteen years to breed a proper soldier, and you killed five of them! And the vessels are even harder to find!" He pulled back and sneered. "I have been kind to you so far, Jesse, but my kindness has a limit. If you have any sense, you won't test it."

"Kind?" he said with a humorless laugh. "I don't want your kindness, I want you to fuck off! And so what if I got rid of a couple of your soldiers?"

Belial's eyes narrowed. "Do you even realize how close to kin you actually are?" His lips twisted again. "And how devoted they were to you? They were children and hadn't even met you yet, but they willingly gave their lives up because you wanted them to die." Jesse's eyes turned to the floor. The demon's brows lifted just slightly with the next question: "Would you feel more remorse if they were people you knew and loved? Say, for instance, your mother?"

Eyes snapping back up, Jesse held his breath a moment before saying, "Don't you fucking dare. Don't even talk about her."

Belial's vague smile lengthened. "Do you think that just because you're away from her that she's safe?"

Jesse pushed to his feet, leaning over the desk. "Fuck you. I pulled Claire from the heart of your stronghold. We got Ben's sister from you. You try anything, and I will end you."

Belial remained silent a moment. That same invisible hand slammed into Jesse, throwing him back against the far wall and lifting him. The force of it was so strong that it pressed all the air out of his lungs and strained on his ribs. Belial stood casually from his chair, coming around and strolling up to him.

"Last I checked, boy, this body was on loan." The corners of his mouth lifted in a thin-lipped smile, and his eyes rolled back until they were white. "Yours, on the other hand."

Jesse struggled desperately for breath, hardly able to do more than clench his fists and strain his expression. His eyes couldn't look away from Belial, bugging slightly.

"It took three hundred years in order for you to be conceived, Jesse," Belial said in a low voice. "Finding a compatible mate, finding a compatible host; the devil's in the details, but I am incredibly patient. If I have to wait another three hundred years, I will. So you willhelp me, or I will kill you and make your pets and mother watch."

Jesse tried to swallow, tears welling up in his eyes. His whole body quivered, terror and uncertainty drowning him. Please, he mouthed. The pressure on his chest released, but he wasn't let down.

"You have something to say?" Belial prompted.

Jesse's gasps for air held a hitch in them. "I'm sorry," he whimpered. "I'm sorry I killed them."

"Sorry doesn't fix your mess, son," Belial replied. He brought his hand up from where it rested at his side and snapped his fingers, his smile turned slightly maniacal. "But I think the lives of those children in Chackbay should cover it."

"No. No, you can't!" Jesse squeaked. "We had a deal!"

"The deal was, I bring them back and you come when I call. There was no stipulation that they remain alive indefinitely."

The door opened a few feet away and two men entered. Their eyes were black as pitch, and they bowed their heads in the presence of Belial.

"Go to Chackbay, Louisiana. Kill the children with my mark, and bring me back their baby teeth. Make sure to clean the sites after you're finished; no sulfur, no blood."

"Sir," they answered, bowing again in unison before blinking out of sight.

Jesse's heart dropped, but he disappeared in an instant, desperate to get to the children first. Since they had taken every child home, he knew exactly where to go. Except the first house was completely empty. There was a woman in the second, and when Jesse demanded where her child was, she said at school.

"Forget I was here," he snapped before disappearing to the school's empty hallway. And then he hesitated. He didn't know the kids' schedules, and he didn't know where to even start. Would the demons know where to find them?

A scream from the main office made up his mind for him. He ran and burst through the door in time to see one of the demons snap a secretary's neck.

"Get the fuck out of here!" he snarled, and the demon went out in a column of smoke. Jesse's eyes fell instantly on the principal's ajar office door. He sprinted through...to find small bodies on the floor.

"No. No, no, no, please," he babbled as he fell to his knees, hands reaching to help, but the children's necks were skewed at odd angles. There was no doubt they were dead. He looked up, meeting the black eyes of the principal. Then the man's head tipped back and black smoke poured out. The empty body sagged down into his chair, but it was clear he hadn't been possessed long. His eyes fluttered open, wide and glazed.

Jesse knew he should stay. He should figure out how to help smooth things over, say the right things to the right authorities to keep anyone else from getting hurt. But he couldn't. Bile boiled in his stomach and he couldn't stand to be in the same room as his failure any longer. He needed to be somewhere safe, and he found himself in the backseat of the GTO.

Too slow to get the door open, he vomited up what little had been in his stomach. Oddly, it made the guilt hit harder, and he took off his shirt to try to mop it up some, his hands shaking hard. He couldn't go back into the hotel, not right now. He felt like he was splintering, and he couldn't do that in front of Claire, not after what she'd been through. But he needed someone to hold, so bad it hurt. Taking out his phone, it took him a couple tries to get Ben's number right.

Claire's eyes closed tightly again as another wave of tears drowned them. Her head shook again before it just hung between her shoulders. "In the Bible, Belial is the master of Legion-the armies of Hell. In scripture, he's known as the Defiler... He was there, Ben," her voice cracked. She was shivering. "He hadto've been the one-the one who had Jesse made."

"All the more reason he wouldn't kill him," Ben tried to reason, just barely keeping the shake out of his tone. He rubbed his hands along her back and shoulders, trying to reassure her as much as he was trying to reassure himself. "That kind of thing doesn't happen regularly. It would be stupid for the demon to kill him."

A deep shudder ran from the top of Claire's neck to her feet, and she felt frigid down to her soul. Inside, she was praying for Jesse to appear in the space in front of her, which she stared at, unblinking.

"I think that's what they took me for..."

Again, Ben found himself derailed. He felt as though his mind was separating from his body and floating away, watching from high above them.

"What?"

Claire was having trouble breathing normally; it came in uneven shudders that were just barely on the edge of broken sobs. "The way he spoke to me, the things the Nephilim said- I'm 'stronger than the others' That it's an 'honor to be chosen'." Her throat tightened around a swallow that felt like a brick was lodged in her throat. She sat back from her knees and pushed the sleeve up from her forearm, where a patch of healed, but sunken, darker skin lay in place of a permanent talisman of protection. Claire showed it to Ben. Her voice seemed to lose all of it's strength.

"None of those Vessels were possessed. Jesse's mother was."

All the pieces snapped into place and the moment they did, Ben felt like he might throw up. The way the demon had taken interest in Jesse back in Maine, the way Jesse spoke about the demon with such contempt as though he'd known him. The very idea of Belial infesting Claire, trying to make Jesse a little demonic brother or sister that he could have control over -

"That's not gonna happen," he vowed. "Nothin's comin' near you. Not ever again."

The phone buzzed in his pocket before he could find much steam, and Ben nearly dropped it in his haste to get it out. Jesse's face flashed across the screen, followed by the first two notes of the ringtone, but Ben flipped the answer on and swiftly cut it off.

"Where are you?" he asked quickly, looking directly into Claire's eyes as he spoke. Her gaze was fearful, but with a tiny flare of hope.

"I-I-I-I'm sorry," Jesse stammered, his voice nearly blubbering. "The-the car. I- Don't bring Claire. P-please."

Ben chewed his lips viciously as he carefully retracted himself from Claire before putting his hand over the receiver.

"He's downstairs. I've gotta go and make sure he's all right."

Her hope grew, but at the same time so did the fear. A thousand scenarios flashed behind her red-rimmed eyes, all born from the last few days of her life, and none of them good. Instinct and paranoia threw words like ambush and leverageinto her mind, and in her current state, Claire couldn't get rid of them. Her hand clamped down on his shirt and her lips parted, but her voice refused to work; it was all written on her face.

"There's a anti-possession charm in my bag," Ben told her, his face reflecting similar fears. "I want you to put it on and salt the door behind me. I'll be back up in ten minutes, I promise."

She didn't let go, not for another heartbeat or two, but finally she untangled her fingers from his sleeve and nodded stiffly. The gesture felt incredibly forced. He leaned in and kissed her, the heat and pressure behind it bordering on desperation or perhaps the fearful kiss of a man about walk onto a battlefield, before pulling his other hand off the receiver to speak into it:

"Be right there."

Ending the call, Jesse wrapped his arms around himself, the world seeming to narrow. He stared at the front seats without really seeing, not even hearing the door open. But his eyes snapped to Ben as he slid in, tears finally running down his cheeks.

"I d-did everything wrong," he sobbed. Ben crawled into the backseat with him, instinctively pulling Jesse against him and holding on tightly.

"Breathe," he encouraged.

Jesse curled into him, breathing though each one came with a shudder. He kept his eyes open wide, afraid of seeing the bodies when he closed them. "He-he killed them. All the kids. I c-c-can't even make a deal right!"

Ben's embrace tightened, fear and worry twisting into a mass in his stomach.

"It's okay," he said quietly. "It's gonna be okay."

Shaking his head furiously, Jesse said, "No, no, he's gonna kill me, or worse. He's gonna hurt you and Claire and my mom and I can't- I can't stop him."

Everything inside Ben hurt. Claire and Jesse both were suffering, and he had the ability to stop it. It was just like Amitiel had said. The idea of getting the gun was starting to lose appeal in favor of the easier answer, but they were in Kansas. He had to try.

"Listen to me," Ben murmured, his hand gripping Jesse's shoulder tightly. "I can fix this. Not the ones lost, but... I can fix this. But you gotta keep it together. You gotta keep Claire safe while I go."

Jesse bit his lip hard to fight back the sobs, though his chest ached horribly and he had to cough a couple times. He leaned heavily against Ben. Please don't leave me.But he held it back, because Ben asked him to. "Okay," he whispered.

Ben pulled back, lifting Jesse's chin and tilting his head back to kiss him. Jesse didn't pull away, but it felt too much like an unearned gift. He'd dragged the two of them through this mistake and now Ben was going to leave to clean up after his mess. And he was going to have to force himself to be strong for Claire when right then he didn't think he had the strength to stand.

When Ben finally pulled back he didn't pull away, his hands holding Jesse's face. "I love you. Don't blame yourself for what happened. It was demons who did this to us, not you, okay?"

Jesse's eyes met his, wide and vulnerable. "He's angry. I killed his people. I did it for Claire, so I know it's right, but... I killed so many people."

Ben's thumbs stroked along the apples of Jesse's cheeks. "They were suffering. You set them free. The angrier he is, the better you're doing. Don't ever forget that." He kissed him again. "We need to go sit with Claire now. She needs us."

Swallowing hard, Jesse nodded. Then he bit his lip. "I threw up," he said quietly.

"I'll clean it up," Ben reassured him. "Go on up. I'll be right behind you."

Jesse felt the tears threaten again but he sniffed them back and crawled out of the car. He walked on autopilot to the room, and it was only when he got to the door that he remembered the lines of salt. His stomach twisting, he closed his eyes and focused on the room's interior before disappearing on the spot.

Jesse slept fitfully, one leg hitched over Claire, his arms wrapped around her but gripping onto Ben's. Ben hadn't slept for two days, and it was quickly beginning to look as though it would become three. There was just too much on his mind. With the utmost care, he eased free and pushed up to sitting with the intention of getting out of the bed.

"Unless you're about to piss yourself, don't you dare." Claire's voice was thick with exhaustion and purposefully quieted, but she hadn't been asleep. There was also a trace of something haunted in her bleak attempt to keep her plea light.

Ben turned to look at her, his expression drawn and tired.

"I'd never leave without telling you," he said quietly. "Not after last time. You know that."

"I know," she whispered back. His eyes barely caught the red glint of the digital clock on the bed stand, lacking light and lustre. She was sure hers reflected just as little. "But you can't blame me."

Ben settled on the ground next to the bed before finding her hands. Wordlessly he kissed them, over and over, following the inside of her wrist and up to her fingers. She watched him, swallowing thickly.

"I don't want you to go," she breathed, unable to hold the words back, but they weren't quite pleading. "But I understand the look in your eyes." Claire recognized it as something she'd seen before in her own gaze, looking back from a mirror.

Ben felt his heart stutter in his chest. He swallowed hard, closing his eyes as he pressed his cheek into her hand.

"I'm coming back," he promised. "He might not even be alive anymore, Claire. Hunters aren't exactly known for living past the age of 30." They were all getting close to that age the more he thought about it, but he pushed that little gem of logic down as far as it would go. "If I can find the Colt, I can kill the demon. Missouri will know. Once I have it, we can end this, and go back to the way things were." He swallowed again. "And when it's over, when the light goes out of that bastard's eyes, I'm gonna marry you."

Claire felt a surge of overwhelming warmth spread through her body, which shuddered in her breath and closed her eyes for a moment. The notion flashed through her head, tightening her leg's grip on Jesse behind her, and drawing her thumb across Ben's cheek. But as therapeutic as it was, it also seemed more like a good dream than a potential reality.

"I'll hold you to that," she said softly. For some reason, letting such a thought linger felt a lot like her internal prayers while she was chained in a room with a boy named Issac. Watching Ben go was necessary, but it was still incredibly painful. Ben kissed her wrists again, opening his eyes to look up at her.

"I'm counting on it." He tried to smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"So what's going to happen to me?" Jesse's voice was nearly unrecognizably hoarse, and he didn't so much as twitch from where he was wrapped around Claire. Ben visibly startled but when he tried to formulate an answer, nothing came. Claire automatically pressed her hand and arm over the one that was draped around her middle, squeezing herself close as possible. She was oddly relieved that he was awake.

"I'm not letting you go-ever. That's what."

The tension in his arm eased. He nuzzled against the side of her neck. "Okay." Reaching out blindly, he found Ben's arm. "Same here."

Ben swallowed and nodded, still unable to find any words. He brought his other hand up to rest on Jesse's where it rested on his arm. Claire brushed his elbow with her fingertips, melting a bit as Jesse's breath filtered through her hair and across her neck, her eyes tired, but still set on Ben's face.

"Come back to bed," she whispered. "Nothin' matters beyond these ugly-ass sheets tonight."

Ben gave a breath of a laugh before nodding, pushing up to standing again and easing back into the bed. With a small smile, Jesse pressed a kiss just under her ear. A wave of warmth, need, and sheer humanity swept over him that he hadn't felt since she'd been taken from them. They'd been sharing a bed all night, but only now did he feel connected.

After they had finished taking comfort in each others' embrace, every inch of Claire's skin tingled, every nerve ending lit up and blazing as she tried to catch her breath. His chest still heaving with breaths, Jesse slid off Claire, burrowing in the space between them. Exhaustion weighed down his limbs but his veins raced with heat and he didn't think he could sit still. Snuggling down further, he nuzzled Ben's side before giving him a wet raspberry, causing Ben's shoulder to shudder with silent laughter.

Claire wanted to curl in, wanted to laugh with them... Hell, she wanted to open her eyes, but there was nothing left; her batteries were drained. She let her hand flop on her stomach, the other was caught somewhere under Jesse, but it didn't register. Jesse felt it, though, shifting her arm from under him and threading his fingers through hers. His smile faltered as his wrist brushed hers, smooth and ridged in a completely unfamiliar way. From the scars. Letting go of her hand, he crawled over her, bodily nudging her against Ben before draping his arm over them both.

Ben only looked up when he'd felt the brief absence of heat, his brow furrowing slightly, but once the adjustment was over he settled again. The tension in the room had fizzled out into nothing, and exhaustion was currently keeping his worrying at bay. He would deal with the trip in the morning; for now he was satisfied wrapped up in the people he loved.

Jesse woke when he felt the shift of the mattress as Ben got to his feet. He didn't move but opened his eyes, watching over Claire's shoulder as Ben padded quietly to the bathroom. Claire hadn't woken up, which was a surprise in itself, but she'd been through a lot. And he supposed last night might have something to do with it.

Looking down at her, the iron that had settled in the pit of his stomach dissipated, but only for a moment. In the morning light, the scars along her arm and back were only too clear. Swallowing, he slid carefully from the bed as he heard the shower start up. Claire deserved some sleep, but Jesse had to talk to Ben before he went. He tugged on his shirt and shorts and then waited until the water stopped. Then he knocked lightly on the door.

"Can I come in?" he said, barely above a whisper.

The door opened without a sound, and Ben's face appeared briefly in the space between the door and the paneling before he pulled back to let him in. There was still steam in the air and the mirror was fogged up. By habit Jesse's eyes flitted down Ben's figure, stopping where the towel hung low on his hips before darting up.

"Morning," he said, smiling, though the nerves showed in his eyes.

Ben gave him a small smile and pushed the door shut, going back to applying shaving cream to his face.

"Morning," he said quietly.

Jesse watched him in silence, taking in every little thing. The way the ends of his wet hair curled against his neck, how he very purposefully split the lathered shaving cream in his palm so there were equal parts, the slight hunch of his back that he always had when he was tired. Jesse stepped a little closer behind him, his hand resting lightly on Ben's arm.

"Come back as soon as you can, alright?"

Ben met Jesse's eyes in the mirror, seeing the nerves in his eyes but knowing that his own conflicting emotions were very obvious on his face. He swallowed and nodded.

"'Course I will. I don't wantto go..." He replied in the same hushed voice. "If it wasn't about my dad, I wouldn't be going at all..."

Jesse's grip tightened on his arm. "No, it's fine, I understand," he said quickly. "I just... I'm worried." He swallowed hard, his eyes avoiding Ben's in the mirror. "That Belial will call me."

Ben's hand tightened on the razor in his hand, taking a slow breath and letting it out before speaking. "It'll be okay. I've dealt with a group of demons on my own before. I can handle it. And I've still got my tatt, so I'll be fine."

A jolt ran through Jesse and he looked up sharply. "What do you mean? What're you gonna do?"

Ben brought the razor up to his cheek and dragged it across the surface of his jaw. "I don't know yet," he said quietly. "First I'm gonna find my dad. That's about the limit of my plans right now." He ran the faucet and slid the blade under it, bringing it back up again. "Claire told me. That he's your father."

Jesse stopped breathing, his eyes locked on Ben, looking for something. "How'd she know?"

"They told her," Ben murmured quietly. "Or well... she figured it out, based on some of what's happened."

Swallowing again, Jesse said, "Does it matter?"

Ben scoffed quietly, turning to look over his shoulder at him. His look, combined with the white mass of foam on his face, was borderline flippant.

"Did you somehow black out all of last night or something?"

Jesse looked down sheepishly, his grip loosening on Ben's arm, going back to the soft touches of before. "Sorry. I know." He took a breath before plowing on. "He's going to call me soon, though. We... we didn't part exactly well and he-he's been putting the pressure on. I'll have to go. But that'll leave Claire alone."

The words were barely out of Jesse's mouth before Ben said, "Don't you dare leave her alone." His voice as sharp as the razor's blade. "Don't you dare."

That made Jesse pull away, his expression strained as he looked at the wall. "He said he'd kill my mom." He could barely get the words out. "I can't- She doesn't know anything, she wouldn't be able to protect herself."

"Then take Claire and go to your mom's, but don't you dare leave her alone right now, Jesse," Ben said with ferocity. "So help me God, if she gets hurt because you've left her alone, I'll never forgive you."

A sob burst from Jesse, surprising even himself, but he quickly bit his lip to hold it back, nodding as he stared at the floor. "I-Is there a...a bus or...?" he squeaked out.

Ben's tone quieted at Jesse's immediate response, his face pinching in thought as he considered the options.

"No, take the GTO. I can get another car. Claire would kill me if I went off with it anyway. Just..." He sighed, wishing he could rub his face, and feeling rather foolish that he was having this conversation with less than half of his first cheek cleaned.

And if he calls me before we get there? But he already knew the answer to that. He had to stay with Claire, no matter the consequence. His chest was heaving in desperate little gasps, but there wasn't nearly enough air. The room was too hot, too stuffy, and his head was spinning, even as he tried telling himself to get a grip, that none of that stuff might even happen. His mom might be fine. Might, might, might.

"Hey..." Ben said, his voice going soft as he put down the razor and slid his hands to Jesse's shoulders. "I just-... I don't want her to be alone. They..." Nerves jumped in his stomach. "They took her ink off. A charm is only as good as the rope it's on. If it were any other time, you know I wouldn't make you choose, but... Claire can't be left alone. Not after everything that's happened. If you wanna jump ahead and find some way to get your mom into a panic room or something, by all means go. I can wait an hour. I just can't... you can't leave her, Jess. She needs someone with her right now. It's dangerous for her to be alone."

"The-the-then don't le-leave us," Jesse gasped between breaths. "H-how'm I supposed to b-build a room I can't get into? And he-he's stronger than me."

"Nobody's stronger than you, Jesse Turner," Ben said, his voice holding no room for argument as he took Jesse's face in his hands. "You're legendary. You can end all of Heaven with a thought. The world could split apart tomorrow if you wanted it to. I believein you, d'you hear me? So you take care of your mom, and take care of our girlfriend, because God save anyone who makes you mad."

Jesse shook his head, his tears finally spilling over. "I can't. I tried. I can't control him, I can't do anything to him. He doesn't need me. He said he doesn't need me and he-he almost killed me."

Forgetting himself, Ben pushed Jesse against the door, pinning him there and kissing him hard. The towel slid dangerously low on one hip, but he didn't care. Jesse gave a sob even as he kissed him back, but the press was too suffocating, too much like how it felt pinned against that wall by his father, unable to move. He whimpered, his knees sagging. Ben merely adjusted his embrace, arms wrapping around him to hold him up. After a few more moments he pulled back, pressing his forehead against Jesse's.

"Don't be scared," Ben whispered. "You're a hunter now. Hunters aren't afraid."

His face burning with shame, Jesse tried to gulp down his tears and force strength into his legs. His whole life, he'd never really thought about dying. It was a possibility, sure, but his powers had always been there to get him out of it. They weren't now. With Belial, he might as well be human. He'd never felt terror like this before. He didn't feel like a hunter; he felt like a child, playing at games. "I c-can't stop. I-I-I'm sorry."

His words were ended by the faintest knock on the door. There was no question who it was, and the shame burned even hotter in Jesse's stomach. He wiped furiously at his eyes, his face, and to his confusion his hands came away with white foam. Ben pulled him away by the shoulder, opening the door for Claire.

She stood there, wrapped in the sheet from the bed like a toga that'd been half-torn off, her eyes heavy with exhaustion, but heavier with haunting memories and worries and words she'd obviously heard through the door, but somehow she managed to keep it away from her expression.

"You took all the towels," she said, meaninglessly and with her voice barely over her breath.

"You just want to see me naked before I go," Ben tossed back, the faintest smile twisting in the corner of his mouth.

Jesse's stomach clenched at the mention of Ben leaving, but he concentrated on wiping his running nose and the rest of the shaving cream off into the crook of his elbow. "Sorry we woke you," he said, his voice scratchy.

Claire kept her eyes on Ben for a long moment, even as she pulled a hand towel from the rack and gently pressed it into Jesse's hand, then grazed his shoulder with a kiss and a few whispered words about taking a slow breath. He just wanted to disappear, but Ben and Claire probably would object, so he just nodded his thanks. He wiped off his face fully and then got most of what was on his arm and hands, his eyes never quite drifting above their knees.

"I think you should check on your mom," Claire finally said, facing Jesse. Her tone was gentle, but also genuine. "Take the salt-tape, ward up her house, and come back-it'll give us time."

His bottom lip gave a quiver before he pressed it in a hard line. Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded again, sliding past her to put on some clothes. Claire watched him go, then turned her eyes back to Ben and his mussed shaving-cream job. Her lips pressed tight.

"He's allowed to be afraid..." she started, very quietly. Ben turned back to the mirror and picked up his razor again, working quickly to make up for lost time.

"I didn't say he wasn't allowed to be," Ben replied in a similar tone. "But when he lets it consume him, he shuts down. I was trying to help."

"I know." Claire sighed through her words, and occupied her hands by untangling herself from the sheet, then reached for Jesse's shirt hanging on the towel-hook. "I just think that it's better to recognize it than ignore it. It's his mom, for Chrissake." Buttoning the shirt, she looked at him again, more than simple empathy in her eyes. There was also a memory there, of how insane Ben had gone himself when it was his mother on the line.

He knew without asking what she was inferring, and couldn't quite meet her eyes in the mirror. Belial had brought up Jesse's mother for the same reason he'd had Abbey hurt his: because of that driving instinct to protect the people he loved. Whether or not Jesse had seen his mother in god knew how long, Ben knew what that feeling felt like.

"Which is why I said I'd sit and wait for him to go and come back before leaving," Ben pointed out. "And why I suggested he take you there with him. What do you want me to say, Claire?"

"Did you see his face?" she took a step closer to keep her volume as low as possible. "He's terrified and thinks himself worthless because of it. You an'I've had a lot of practice at dealing with fear, but for the first time in his life, he's trying to function along side it. If he's gonna get past 'shutting down', he needs to know that it's part of the whole package." She glanced over her shoulder toward the door, then back at the side of Ben's face. "He idolizes you; you'rehis example. If he thinks you never get scared, he's gonna try to live up to that, and he's gonna fail."

Ben scowled a little down at the sink, turning the faucet back on and bending a bit in order to rinse off before he stood upright and turned to look at her.

"Why would he idolize me?" he said lowly. "He's already perfect. He can do everything better than me and more. What am I?"

Claire's brows knitted together in the middle in a clear mix of confusion and disbelief. "Blind, apparently." She folded her arms below her breasts and leaned closer. "You're everything he wants to be, Ben. He doesn't understand how you got to be the way you are, but he loves you more than you're apparently willing to see. Now he's watching you leave, promising to stay by my side while a demon kingis probably going after his mother, because you told him to... how can you not see that level of devotion?"

Ben swallowed hard, dropping his gaze and feeling a horrible twist in his stomach. He wanted so badly to ask her to come with him. It seemed like the easier option, but Jesse was in just as much need of someone to stablize him as Claire was. They could balance each other. They didn't need him; even after Claire's explanation for how Jesse saw him, he still couldn't understand why.

"Just...open your eyes. That's all I'm askin'." Her voice had fallen, even if the lower volume wasn't needed. Claire punctuated the statement with a sigh against his bare shoulder, then pressed her cheek against it. "Realize how much you mean to him. And to me." Her lips pressed on his shoulder, lingering there. His arms wrapped around her on instinct, tightening as he pressed his face against her hair. The horrible twist in his stomach tightened further.

"I'll try and keep my bright ideas to myself," he murmured. Claire's nostrils flared slightly with a nasal sigh.

"Just go over them in your head once before they jump out," she added, purposefully making her voice a little lighter. It wasn't just him-the tunnel vision and thin brain-to-mouth filter seemed to be a curse of male-kind. "I'm gonna go make sure he's okay."

Ben nodded before letting his arms go loose, pausing long enough to turn her mouth up for a brief kiss, which she needfully returned.

Jesse's over-shirt hung off Claire's shoulders like a wet tent on a single pole with only two buttons fastened at her middle as she slid out through the bathroom door. Just as Jesse was fitting on his last shoe, a pair of bare feet circled in front of him. A couple fingertips gently pushed through his hair before she dipped her head to catch his eyes.

"Look'it me, Baby," she whispered. The look on his face when he left the bathroom was exactly what she had expected, after the muffled conversation she'd heard through the door. It made her heart ache.

"I'm fine," he said quietly, straightening to meet her eyes.

For some reason, that only made it worse, but Claire kept that as far away from her face as possible. Her lips pressed together for a moment, the only reaction she couldn't temper.

"No, you're not-you shouldn't be expected to be."

His throat seemed to close up and he had to swallow a couple times before he could speak. "I have to be," he said gruffly. "We don't have time."

Claire crouched down with her hands on his knees, balancing on the balls of her feet. Her eyes never left his-they were so vividly blue, electric in the terror he was just barely hiding. "You're right-we don't. But I can't let you leave until I know you understand something very important." Claire's eyes were imploring, begging to get through that sharp crust that his break-down with Ben had put in place. "If you're afraid-" and she knew he was. They all were, whether some weren't willing to admit it. "That's okay. Bravery isn't never being scared; it's doing what you have to do while being scared. If you just shove it down, you'll ignore instincts that you needto listen to." She rolled her lips, close to tears.

Jesse felt pinpricks at his eyes again, but blinked hard, trying to keep it back. He really had to steel himself if he was going to face his mom, and he had a lot to do in little time. "Okay," he said, cupping her cheek in his hand, which she naturally leaned into. She shouldn't have to be the one making him feel better.

Claire turned her head to place a kiss on the center of his palm, then stood up straight, gently pulling him in with her arms curled around his shoulders. "I'm so proud of you," she whispered onto the crown of his head, her eyes closed to hold back the sting. "I love you, and I'll be right here when you get back."

His chest hitched and he leaned against her. His arms wrapped around her, a little tighter than he meant to. He held his breath to let the ache fade. "Thank you."

Claire didn't say anything for a long moment, only brushed her fingers through his hair and focused on his grip around her. It was comforting on a deep level, and the absolute last thing she wanted was to let him go-but there was no other choice.

"Tell her to stay in her house and make it safe," Claire finally breathed, but didn't let him go. "We'll drive straight there."

Nodding against her, Jesse finally forced himself to pull back, his arms dropping from her. He still didn't know what exactly he was going to say to his mom, but thinking about it just made it worse. He'd go there and do what needed to be done, that was all he could do.

Jesse generally avoided the salt-tape, and it looked like it was with good reason. While he'd avoided crossing any lines as he fortified his mom's home, just the contact setting them up still had him nauseated and shaky. Though that might not be the only reason.

He sat on the bed, his eyes following Ben as he readied himself to go out the door for the last time. The air felt heavy and static.

Ben could feel their eyes on him, like invisible hooks latching onto him. He felt physically torn.

"Keep us posted," Claire said quietly from her lean on the dresser. She'd fallen into the quiet, cool calm of logic, occupying her mind with things that needed to be done-instead of focusing on the gnawing ache in her chest. She'd only recently addressed the fact that she lost her phone on the way to Oregon; they'd have to pick another one up on the way to Jesse's mother's.

Steeling himself, Jesse finally got to his feet, walking over to Ben. "Twice a day, alright?" He didn't hesitate as he pulled Ben into a tight hug. Ben's arms tightened around him to the point where it almost hurt, pressing his face into Jesse's shoulder.

"Promise," he said thickly.

Jesse swallowed back the urge to beg Ben to take them with. "I love you," he said quietly, his voice a little strained. "So don't take your time."

Claire felt a stab behind her eyes, and they closed but only for a moment. When they opened again, she forced the burn away, and set on the two of them. She wanted to throw her arms around both, but doing so would ultimately give Ben leave to go. Subconsciously, her feet just wouldn't move.

"I won't." Ben's hand moved up into Jesse's hair and twisted in the strands. "Be safe, both of you."

Every part of him hurt when he forcibly pulled himself away, his eyes landing on where Claire was settled on the dresser. The desire to leave felt like it was fading with every minute that he was there, but he couldn't leave without holding her one more time. Claire draped her arms around his shoulders when he closed the distance between them. Her fingers twisted in his shirt as she breathed him in. Once again, her eyes clenched shut as he hugged her just as tightly as he'd held Jesse. His chest hitched.

"Don't forget what I said," he told her, his voice deep and raspy.

A faint smile twitched against his ear, despite the shaky quality her voice took on. If it were possible, she hugged him a little tighter. "Might forget the longer you're gone-so make it quick."

Ben took a deep breath and finally pulled back, dropping his gaze to the floor as he moved to the door, shouldered his bag, and moved through it.

The farther he drove away from the hotel, the more anxious Ben found himself, but he swallowed it down and focused on staying under the speed limit. The last thing he needed right then was for the cops to start trailing him, or a repeat of what had happened in Pennsylvania what felt like forever ago.

"They'll be fine," he told himself for the tenth time that hour. "Gotta do this. Suck it up."

He turned the radio up a little louder, eyeing the street signs as he passed them. "Delaware Street, Delaware Street..."

It was a tiny little house on the corner. There was a wrap-around porch and an herb garden, along with a small wooden sign just to the left of the mailbox: Missouri Mosley, Reader and Advisor.

He parked partway up the block and got out, feeling nerves jump in his gut. With a steadying breath he headed up the walkway, marching up the steps and raising a hand to knock on the door.

He was being watched, however, from the side of the porch.

"We're 'round back," came a thickly honeyed female voice; a darker-skinned woman in her twenties was standing beneath the shadow of a wisteria tree. A glass of peach iced tea was sweating in her hand, but otherwise, it hadn't been touched. She looked him over, canting her head.

"You're taller than I expected."

"You Missouri?" Ben asked, his voice tinted with disbelief. For some reason, he'd imagined someone older. Had Dean met her when she was a kid or something and saved her on a hunt, like he'd done for him and his mom?

The woman snorted pleasantly, shaking her head. "Tia. You comin'?" On bare feet, she turned and started through the grass around the house.

They rounded the corner, and the back yard came into view. The grass was taller here; it would have tickled Ben's ankles had he been wearing something shorter. On her knees in a patch of pink and white dahlias close to the house was an older woman, gray hair pinned back in a messy bun, elbow-deep in what looked like peat moss. She looked up as Ben and Tia approached her. "Well," she said pleasantly, "I didn't think you'd get here so fast! I could feel his nerves all the way up the street," she added to Tia. "Help me up, honey, let me get a look at him."

Tia grasped her hand with both of hers and the older woman got to her feet with a grunt, slapping her hands against her jeans to get the dirt off.

"Missouri Mosely. I'd shake if I'd had time to wash up. It's Ben, isn't it?"

Ben swallowed hard and nodded, trying hard to put a leash on the bees nest that seemed to have settled in his stomach. Psychic, Braeden, he told himself. Be cool.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, putting on a polite smile. "I was told that you could find people. I don't really have a lot of money on me, and I don't wanna pass you a card, but whatever your rates are I can make it up in about four hours if you point me in the direction of a pool hall in town-"

Missouri threw her head back and laughed. "Oh, honey, don't you worry about a thing," she said, giving Ben's shoulder a gentle pat. "If I didn't charge Dean Winchester, I certainly won't charge his son. You're such a nice young man," she added, almost to herself. "You look so much like him, but you act more like Sam. Much more respectful. Deandidn't offer me a penny..."

The nest of bees in his stomach started to swarm, causing Ben's breath to hitch as he swayed on his feet. It was really happening. She knew without even asking that he was looking for his father, and if she knew that-

"He ain'around here," Tia injected, cutting off Ben's thoughts as she handed her grandmother the drink.

"Thank you, baby," Missouri said, and took a small sip of the tea. "But here, let's talk inside. Not quite autumn yet, this heat is miserable." She headed to the back door, beckoning them to follow her. The screen door banged shut behind her.

It was quieter in the house; the thick carpet seemed to soak up all background noise, save for the distance sound of passing cars outside and the quiet click-clickof the ceiling fan above them. The place smelled of peppermint and old books, and sunlight that streamed through open windows; a fresh breeze fluttered past the curtains, rustling the windchimes outside. Missouri ducked under a beaded curtain, sitting heavily on one of the cushy couches beyond the back door. She took a handkerchief out of one pocket and dabbed her brow, sighing. "Well, that's better. Have a seat, Ben."

Before Ben could sit down, much less open his mouth, she added, "I know you're nervous, honey, but try and settle down. I'm an old woman, I can't handle the suspense." She offered him a smile, but the anxious look Ben gave her in return drew a sigh out of her. "Goodness, you young people. Always in such a hurry."

Ben opened his mouth again, and she held up a hand. "I don't know where he is exactly, but we could get you the general whereabouts. Any more than that and I'm gonna need something of his to track with, which I know you haven't got. That boy always did clean up well after himself. But honey, I'd be careful if I were you. Dean Winchester is a broken man, and you've already got so much on your plate. Just don't go gettin' your hopes up."

Everything inside Ben's chest ached at the mental images Missouri conjured up for him. "I just wanna get the gun from him," Ben blurted out. "I know he has it. Everything else doesn't matter." He didn't want me,Ben finished in his head, feeling pain welling up behind his eyes as he gave the older psychic a thin-lipped smile. "Got a job to do, after all. Any bit of information'll help."

"Oh, Ben," Missouri started, reaching out but stopping short, her hand dropping back to her side. "How about I leave you and Tia to it?" she suggested, tone gentle. "It's been a long mornin' weedin', and I need a few minutes-" Ben immediately felt a rise of panic, his lips parting for a breath to interrupt, but she cut him off yet again. "Oh, you stop your worrying. She's shaping up just fine, just as capable as I am. I'm letting her take over all my business, it's not a special case. I'll be right upstairs if you need me."

Her words did little to reassure him, but Ben forced a nod anyway, his eyes tracking the older woman as she hefted herself out of the couch cushions and started toward the stairs. Tia also remained where she was, leaning against the counter, her full lips turned down in a slight frown until Missouri was out of sight.

"S'not me you're worryin' about, so let's just drop that subject-" Tia jumped right in while pouring herself a glass of tea.

"I just wanna find my dad," Ben said quietly. "I'm not tryin' to be rude, it's just- he told me to find Missouri, but if you know where he is-"

"He's in Sioux Falls, South Dakota," she injected, almost indignantly. Her eyebrows arched steeply as she met his gaze, emphasizing her next point. "But'chu need to figure out just what it is you plan on doin' there before you step out that door, boy." Her tone was firm, but not quite as aggressive as her eyes tended to be. They dropped from him and watched as she poured the last glass of tea, and handed it over. He took it without really knowing what to do with it, the glass startlingly cold against his palms when he wrung it.

"Getting the gun. That's all that matters," he repeated. Assuming he still has it. Assuming he even gives it to me. Assuming he doesn't just tell me to leave and never come back because I did everything he told me not to do-

Tia cut a short chirp of humorless laughter; it scraped in the back of her throat as more of a snort. "It ain't ever just one thingthat matters. That's like lookin' at somethin' you want through a thin tube; you miss everythin' else." She sat back in the wicker chair and took a short sip of her tea, watching him. "That's a man who's seen way too much, and you ain't seen him in way too long. What're you gonna say to him?"

"That's not your business," Ben said with a hint of briskness. "I didn't come here lookin' for a practice run. You have no idea what I'm trying to do."

"Oh, don't I-?" she answered just as quick, sitting up straighter. "You're scramblin' across the continent grabbin' at every scrap'a chance to put a demon down without usin' the angel nippin' at your heels. Sound familiar?"

All the color drained out of Ben's face. It was one thing to find a psychic who could track down his sister or his dad, but to know that his own life was being watched so closely scared the hell out of him. For all that Tia Mosley could have been his age, he suddenly felt like a child in the face of her agitation. His eyes dropped to the ground.

"And y'know what?" she added, leaning her elbows on her knees, and the frayed pieces of her jean shorts. "You're right t'do so."

Her words brought his eyes up just as quickly, his heart suddenly racing. "Why?

Tia's full lips pressed together as thin as they would go. Her eyes shot up to the staircase where her Nana had been, then back to Ben with all the seriousness in the world behind them. "Thing about destiny is-it's a point of view. The Old Things in the world look at us like we're pawns on a big-ass chess board; some're made to draw away, some for conquerin', some for dyin'. What they forget is we not only got minds of our own, but this 'big-ass chess board' is ourworld. It's our actions that change it." Tia wet her lips on another quick sip of tea before setting it down, scooting to the edge of the chair.

"What that Angel thinks you want to hear ain't really what you want. What'chu think's gonna happen to that yellow-haired girl and the blue eyed boy if you let yourself be martyred? Everythin' gonna be hunky-dory? It ain't their safetyyou need to be focused on... It's what they do to the world if you're not in it."

Ben could feel the panic rising in him again, threatening to take him and putting a nagging need to run as fast as he could into him.

"Where in Sioux Falls?"

Tia eased back in the chair, sighing. It creaked with her weight, and the shifting ice in her glass. "Look for a place with a lotta broken cars. A junk yard-somethin' like that." She took another drink, her eyes focused in her tea. "You're also bein' watched on the Other side. Can't leave here without somethin' to hide you from him, or you're not gonna make it across the state line."

Ben's hand went to his collar, tugging down the fabric to expose his anti-possession tattoo. Although he knew they'd ripped it clean off of Claire, that had been after they'd ambushed her.

"I'm not gettin' ambushed. If they want me, they're gonna have to shoot me through the head."

Tia's brows severely pinched down in the middle. "And what makes you think they won't? Boy, they don't need to possess you to kill you, and you're 'bout as bright as a halogen bulb to the one's who're lookin'. C'mon-" She stood up, switching her tea in her hands and headed back out to the porch. Ben cast his eyes upward to the stairs before following reluctantly behind her.

Jesse never felt Belial's calls coming. That wasn't the worst part about the situation, not by a long shot, but it was an extra twist of the blade. No feeling in his stomach or tingling at the back of his neck. One moment you're riding shotgun through Nebraska; the next your entire body feels shot through with fire.

He jerked against his seatbelt with a cry, grabbing hold of the door. "Fuck-ah! It's him, Claire," he gritted through clenched teeth. Claire had felt her own breath seize with the noise he made, followed by the immediate sinking of her heart into her stomach.

"Christ-hold on, Baby-" she said, handing him her hand and helplessly switching her attention between him and the road, looking for a good place to pull off. There was nothing but corn on either side of them for what seemed like miles.

Biting down on his tongue to try to keep from crying out, he couldn't stop his body from jerking now and then, desperate to get away from the pain that was at its very core. Tears leaked from his shut eyes and he let out a few more gasped cries in the age the agony lasted. And then, like coming up above water, it was gone - right as Claire had rolled to a stop on the road's shoulder. His heaving breaths almost turned into a laugh, except for the fear that pricked up in the forefront of his mind.

"It's okay. I'm okay," he said breathlessly to Claire.

Her face was almost as pale as his, drawn and tight with excruciating worry. Not only had the sounds of his pain reached into her core, but Claire knew by the look in his eyes that they were sharing the same thought. "You're sure?" She didn't let go of his hand.

He swallowed. "Yeah. Made it through, and we're almost there. Might want to drive a bit fas-" The word cut off in a scream, Jesse's hand clamping onto hers like a vice as he jerked violently. The pain was back, but in a completely new form. He thought it was painful before, the fire racing through his veins. But now, now he'd been plunged into the heart of a volcano. The car, Claire, everything seemed to fade away in the face of what had a hold of him now.

And all Claire could do was try to keep her heart from tearing itself out of her chest. Any harder, and his grip would be snapping her fingers, but the sensation was secondary to the panic that gripped her, bone-deep. "Jess-! Jesus-god, just-breathe, Baby-" she was on the verge of shouting, twisted in the seat to latch her free hand on his face and try to bring him back. "Look at me, stay with me-!"

Stay, stay, stay.It whirled through his mind, the most important order in the world, holding him to the seat. He tried to gasp in air, but the pain wasn't coming in waves or spurts. It was constant, steady, never-ending, and so was his screaming. Even when he ran out of air, when the screams fell quiet, his mouth still ached in open, silent agony. His back arched desperately but he was held sharp into place by his seatbelt.

They had been alone at the time, but out of nowhere the doors were thrown open. Three separate bodies pressed into the car - two to hold Jesse back, and one who grabbed forcefully at Claire's anti-possession charm. The woman screamed in pain, unholy smoke rising off her hand as she threw it to the floor, but then the black smoke was pouring out of her mouth and rushing into Claire's. Even though the world was a blur, Jesse saw clear enough to try to fight. He managed a gasp of air but felt something shoved in his mouth as the black smoke disappeared into Claire. He tried to fight, but his body was already at war with itself; he could hardly take on anyone else.

Claire had been pushed back into her seat by the force of the invasion, her hair sprawled across her face in chaotic, pale waves. Now, she casually pushed them out of her eyes and adjusted the t-shirt at her shoulders, just as the hand of the unconscious woman at her window disappeared, having fallen from the ground.

"Wellnow," she said with an airy disposition that bordered on surprise. It was Claire's voice, but two or three shades darker - like the difference between a silver and brass bell. She twisted in the driver's seat to face Jesse. The black, soulless eyes of a shark beamed down at him over a slow, toothy grin. "Hello, baby boy. I see you've been busy."

Jesse tried to jerk towards her, to grab for her, but two demons and a seatbelt had him held tight. His eyes rolled in the back of his head, pain overcoming panic, although neither was doing anything to help Claire. He gave a sob around his gag.

"Awww," the demon in Claire cooed in his direction, even pushed her bottom lip out in a pouty show of sympathy that didn't last long; her smile returned just as quickly. "Don't worry, Jesse-Bear. I'mstill proud of you. And we'll take good care of them," Claire's thin fingers drummed absently on her flat stomach. "Promise."

In the next heartbeat, she and the others were gone. The wall of pain remained, Jesse's spasms against it growing weaker. Somewhere between five minutes and five years after one of the loves of his life was taken from him again, the agony ceased, and he collapsed onto the benchseat. One hand groped to release his seatbelt, the other tugging out the gag so he could gulp down shuddering breaths of air.

Claire. They took Claire.

The words stretched out in his head into a sickening reality. He hadn't left her but it hadn't mattered. He'd been useless and now she was gone again, suffering again.

He didn't know how long he'd laid there, numb from the inside out, before it crossed his mind to call Ben. If she gets hurt, I'll never forgive you.He wanted to sink into the earth and disappear, but someone had to save Claire, and Ben was their best shot.

His muscles aching, he pulled his phone from his pocket, staring at the dashboard as he rang the number. It rang for an eternity, before going to voicemail. Three more times, and there still wasn't an answer. His world seemed to narrow; he didn't know what to do, so he had to look at one thing at a time. There had been a demon. That meant collateral damage.

Crawling along the benchseat, he reached down and found the woman's arm. It was cool to the touch and he couldn't find a pulse. Possessions weren't good deaths. They'd have to salt and burn. Claire Claire Claire.There wasn't time. Maybe he could put her in the corn field, come back later. Next thing.

He sat up in the seat, looking around. They'd pulled off into a low enough incline that those on the road couldn't see much. They'd probably just think someone was taking a leak. Next thing.

Ben.He looked down at his phone. There were any number of reasons Ben wasn't answering, but he had to know what was going on, as soon as possible. And if he tried to call Jesse back, and Jesse couldn't answer... Swallowing, he dialed again.

"This is Ben. Leave a message."

There was a long silence. "Ben." Jesse's voice sounded and felt like he'd swallowed steel wool. "It's Jesse. They... they got Claire." Saw it happen. Couldn't stop them. Tried. Tried. "I don't know where. Just...come to my mom's. We'll..." Not enough time."I'm gonna get her back, Ben. I swear. Whatever it takes."

He hesitated on the line a few seconds more, but there didn't seem anything else to say. He ended the call, staring down at the phone. Next thing.

He had to do whatever it took.

Belial.

"Ruth," he said, no louder than if she'd been sitting in the back seat. She was there before he had the chance to take a second breath.

He looked at her, his lips pursed as he swallowed. "They took Claire again," he said, his voice neutral. "This time, you're going to help me, and you're going to stay with me."

The fear was bright in her eyes, but she nodded wordlessly. [ Anything you want everything you want follow you anywhere wherever you go ]

"Yes."

He flinched but nodded. "Good. Now tell me what you can do, everything you can do."

"Everything you can do," she whispered in answer. "And everything they can do."

"I need a list. I don't know everything they can do, so you have to tell me so I know how well we're armed."

A flash of silver appeared out of thin air, sliding down from her wrist and into her palm. The air seemed to shift around them with the blade's presence, but she barely even blinked. Jesse, however, nearly leapt backwards out of the car.

"Where the fuck did you get that?"

Ruth's eyes went wide and she visibly startled at his reaction. "I... it's- I was born with the ability to call it."

His eyes flicked to hers then back on the sword. "Call it from where?"

"Inside," she answered, swallowing hard as she looked at him. [ I don't understand what did I do did I do something wrong please don't be angry with me I won't call it again if it makes you upset don't want you upset just want to please you-]

"It's okay," he said, without really feeling it. Swallowing, he held out his hand. "Can I hold it?"

Without even a twitch of hesitation, Ruth presented him the hilt, her eyes still wide and bright as she watched him. He took it warily, weighing it carefully in his palm before taking it fully from her. It was cool to the touch, and lighter than he thought it would be. Pursing his lips, he nodded.

"Did you ever try to use it on him?" he asked, finally looking back to her.

Ruth shook her head quickly, her wide eyes expanding even further. Her wave of terror hit him like a wind and he nodded. "Do you think you could?"

[ don't wanna die don't wanna die]

"If you asked me to," she answered in a small voice.

"It's okay," he said, looking down and his grip tightening. "I'll take it." Taking a breath, he looked at her. "What else?"

"I can move freely," Ruth answered. "Nothing can hold me out or hold me back. I can heal, myself and others, though I can't bring them back from beyond. I can travel through the subconscious." [ I can speak to you without being heard, and I can read your thoughts just as easily as you can read mine. ]Yet even as she spoke directly, the undercurrent of worry and devotion beat against it, little half-formed fears rushing through her like a river. "I can see possibilities. I can hide. I can bend reality around me." She visibly swallowed. "But I can die."

His blank, hard expression softened at that, and he settled a hand on her leg. "That's a good thing. Only really horrible things can't die." He thought a moment before asking, "Bending reality. Does that mean you could be invisible?"

"It wouldn't help," she said in the same small voice. "They would feel me."

"So how have you been hiding from them since you ran away?"

[ Running running running never staying still always running always never sleeping never stopping -]

Her lips twisted in a sad, wry smile. "Same as you."

He gave her leg an extra squeeze. "Okay. So we don't hide. We don't hide. We're going to go in and get Claire out, no matter what, alright?" He frowned a moment. [And I should probably practice this since that's how we'll want to talk failed failed them all]

Her hands covered his and she squeezed them tightly, every emotion that poured out of her showing on her face.

"Don't say that," she whispered. "Don't ever say that, not ever. Don't even think it." [ Love him love him love him love him-] Admiration and adoration swelled up in her like a flood, pouring over and into him.

Jesse's eyes fluttered closed, his body swaying as the unnoticed tension eased away. He wanted to stay there, floating in the sensation. [ Can't can't save her die for her] He took a breath, opening his eyes. "It's going to take some getting used to."

Her hands only tightened over his.

"I can take you to her," she said quietly. "I know where she is." [ Like a swarm of bees they all went all went something's up don't know what so scared can't be scared wanna run run run run they're coming they'll find me can't let them-]

After Ruth's ignorance last time, Jesse hadn't even dared to hope she would know where to start now. At those words, his adrenaline skyrocketed. He grabbed her arm, staring unblinking into her eyes. "Where?"

"Clifton," came her whispered answer.

He knew the name. He'd heard in Ruth's panicked mental narration the first time they'd met. Setting his jaw, he said, "Then you're the best person for it. You've gotten out of there before; now you can show me how."

[ Fool me once shame on me fool me twice shame on you -]

"Not sure if we can get out this time," she said, her voice carrying a note of finality.

"Then we can just get Claire out," he said firmly, though not quite meeting her eyes. She nodded, trepidation beating out like a heartbeat beneath the swells.

"You've been there before," she told him.

He frowned. "What?"

Ruth's eyes burned bright with the memory. "We felt you there, right before Callavilla fell. Everyone felt you. They could barely keep us still, but I left in the chaos."

"I don't..." His frown deepened. "New Jersey, right? I thought you'd said... I don't remember going there."

Ruth's eyes dropped and a shiver moved through her body. Fear sliced through the air between them like static.

"Sir took you there," she said. "To the door."

"The graveyard," he murmured. He remembered, all too well. So, he knew how to get there. "Ruth, how many... people like you are there?"

"At Academy?" her brows pinched together. [ Abandoned them abandoned them my brothers and sisters the worst kind of traitor but I had to go I had to had to run had to run knew what was coming so scared don't wanna die-] "300."

"And how many...others?"

"The Nursery isn't there," Ruth answered. "It's only us, and the Watchers, and a handful of demons."

Jesse felt a smile pull at his lips. "And all of you follow me. Ruth, if we get your brothers and sisters loose... we could win."

Ruth's bright blue eyes widened, the fear between them growing stronger. "Sir would kill them if you came without knocking. He barely kept everyone from chasing after you. They had to be held back -" [ Kicking and screaming and crying and begging and blood so much blood like dying but not enough lost just enough to start to see the Light -] " - to keep from following."

[ Fuck fuck fuck] "Guess it couldn't be that easy." He closed his eyes, trying to think. "Can you drive a car?"

"Never really needed to learn," she answered softly.

"Didn't think so." He opened his eyes, looking at her steadily. "You stay here. There is a body on this side of the car. Move it into the cornfield, and make sure no one sees you do it. Then wait for me. I have to check on someone."

[ Don't leave me please don't leave me not here not alone they found you they'll find me can't let them can't anything you want anything you want -]

"If they come, you can leave," he practically snapped. He took a breath, forcing the tension out of his expression. "Just do this for me, okay?"

Her head bowed and she nodded. [ Yes, master.]

[ No no fuck can't Mom.] Without another word, he disappeared.

The gris-gris bag was a strange weight in his pocket, and although Tia had reassured him that it would do the trick, there was no denying his skepticism. All it contained was herbs, oils, stones, bones, and an ID in the back of his wallet that he hadn't used since Jesse had started to travel with them, but when he'd tried to argue with her about it, she'd very nearly hit him in the head.

He just hoped it really worked.

He'd made it to Sioux Falls in just over five hours, flooring it the whole way, his body tensing up every time he saw a cop car along interstate 29. It was a miracle he hadn't been stopped given his speeding, but he didn't really have much space inside his head to think about it. All he could think about was what he was going to say when he finally got there.

It was all really happening.

Up until Claire and Jesse, the only time Ben wasn't thinking about his father was when he'd been in the heat of a hunt, and even then he wondered minutely whether or not Dean or Sam would miraculously appear, guns blazing. He'd conjured up over a thousand different reactions to their reunion, from proud to pissed and everything in between. But the older he'd gotten, the more he'd started to wonder if he would ever find him. Now that he'd had his memories again and thought back on all the different scenarios, Ben wondered just how glad his father would be when he finally found him again.

At the exit into the city, Ben found himself momentarily lost as to where to go, but instinct guided his hand and he slowly started to drive to the outskirts of town. The streets and trees had a hazy familiarity to them that he couldn't quite explain, but when he'd turned off on a dusty gravel road, his heart started racing. Before he knew it, there was the sign: Singer Auto Salvage.He had to force himself to breath slowly, at the risk of hyperventilating himself.

There was a small building not too far off from the entrance, but the windows were dark and the paint peeling. It looked as though it hadn't been used in a very long time. The house about four hundred yards back was in similar disrepair. He didn't see a car in the place that didn't look rusted out.

He's not here,came the whispered thought. Ben pulled up next to the house and killed the engine on the Camry hybrid, head bowed as he tried to think what next to do. Tia had said a junkyard with cars; Ben remembered being brought here, hidden in the house while Dean had raced off with Sam. He could remember Bobby showing him how to use some of the equipment, and the older man studying his face with keen eyes whenever he thought Ben wasn't looking. Maybe there would be some information inside. It was better than driving away.

Shoving the keys into his pocket and leaning over into the passenger's seat to dig through his bag, Ben found his lockpick set and set out of the car. It was a short walk up the stairs, the wood creaking beneath his boot, and without even a glance around Ben crouched in front of the locks to start working. All he could hear was the sound of the occasional bird, the wind rustling through the corridors of cars and trees, and the distinct buzzing of insects.

The sound of a car pulling up on the property was unmistakable and Ben panicked, working faster. He briefly feared that the newcomer would see the car and immediately know something was up, but he'd cross that bridge when he got to it. Maybe it's just a bunch of kids, he thought, even as the hairs rose on the back of his neck; the distinct feeling of being watched. Lookin' to drink and party or something. They might not even make it this w-

"I wouldn't go in there, if I were you," a gruff voice interrupted just as the lock surrendered to the efforts of the lock pick. Ben straightened and turned, his free hand instinctively reaching for his gun before he managed to stop himself. A man had stepped into view at the foot of the stairs, leaning heavily on the cane he used as much to clear the path in front of him as a walking aid. "I hear there's ghosts in that old house."

Ben swallowed hard as he met the eyes of the stranger. Like the old man who had lived there before, his gaze was keen and searching, trying to find something in his face. It was unsettling, and eerily familiar.

"Considerin' who used to live here, I think I've got a lot more to worry about than ghosts," he said at last, trying to put on a relaxed smile as his eyes quickly took in the man's stance. He was wearing a jacket also, and there was a visible lump in the side that all but screamed handgun. Steady hand, Braeden,he told himself. "I'm a friend of the family. The key was moved. Did somebody buy the place or something?"

"No. I'm the current owner." The man stiffened at his own words before taking a breath, his neutral mask returned. He tilted his head, studying Ben. There was something familiar, something he couldn't quite place. A wave of his hand shifted to his hip, the jacket strategically shifted to show the butt of the gun; not so much a threat as a subtle warning. Ben felt his own body tensing.

"You wanna tell me who you are, exactly, and what your business is here, Mr. Friend of the Family?" Eyes that fell in the spectrum between green and hazel turned dark. The man brought his free hand up to scrub at his face. Ben knew the man had a good twenty years or so on him, instincts sharp as a razor's edge. No doubt he could get his gun out and fire off a round before Ben knew what hit him, if he felt inclined. But he didn't move. Ben could see recognition registering in the older man's eyes. His hand dropped to the gun tucked in his waist band before he sneered, his expression hardened to a fixed glare. The smile slid right off the younger man's face.

"I'm waiting, boy."

Ben showed his hands palms up in a sign of submission, his heart beating even faster at the rough response. Now or never.

"Look, I'm not tryin' to steal anything, if that's what you're thinkin'," he said quickly. The man took an awkward step forward as he drew his gun and leveled it at the young man. He held the gun steady, his stance wide for stability. Ben's words nearly blurred together in his haste to finish: "I'm just trying to find some answers. Bobby knew my dad, and I thought maybe he'd have a letter or something from him, some kind of forwarding address, I need to find him. He and his brother are transients-"

"Hold it. Back up. Say that again." His voice was hard, thick, almost choked. The hand holding the gun twitched, causing it to waver, but a deep and deliberate breath steadied him. His eyes didn't waver.

"I'm looking for my dad," Ben repeated, his voice a bit stronger as he straightened his posture, hands clenched at his sides. He really, really didn't want to get shot at. "If you have his things, I need to look through them. Please. I needto find him, and I don't know where else to look."

"Seems to me, dear old dad doesn't want to be found," the man narrowed his eyes. He hooked his cane on his arm and raised his free hand to scratch at his jaw. His gaze held steady, scrutinizing the young man.

"He got a name?"

A sudden buzz in his pocket visibly startled the younger man, followed by a few bars from Zepplin's Whole Lotta Love, but he slid his hand into his pocket and immediately silenced it. It felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. Jesse and Claire's voices echoed in his head; They'd asked him the same question, and both times the hair on his arms had stood on end, trepidation twisting up like a knot in his gut. That's a man who's seen way too much, and you ain't seen him in way too long. Just don't go gettin' your hopes up.

The closer he got, the more he recognized the face. His hair had started growing grey, and there were more lines creasing his skin - especially on his forehead and around his mouth - but it was the eyes that got him. He knew those eyes. He stared at them every morning in the mirror.

"Don't act like you don't know it," Ben growled out. "Likely that's the only reason you haven't shot me yet."

"Don't tempt me, boy, and don't think I won't do it," the older man growled out in an eerily-similar tone. "Now I'm going to ask one more time. What's your daddy's name?" The gun in his hand shifted, pointed at a knee cap. "Answer the question or get off my land. I'm well with in my rights to shoot you, seeing as you're armed. Your choice."

Ben caught the gun at the barrel and lifted it, stepping close enough so that it pressed directly to his chest and against his heart. His eyes never broke away from the older man's face.

"Go ahead and shoot me then, Dean," he said. "God knows, you might as well have, back when I was twelve. Only this time, you'll have to watch."

Dean held his expression perfectly neutral. Only his eyes betrayed him, shifting, looking down at the gun pressed to his son's chest. He cleared his throat and drew his gaze back to the young man's face. He kept the gun firm, steady and in place. "Everything I did that day, I did to protect you and your mother."

The lack of a denial was enough to suck all the air out of him, but it was his answer that rubbed salt into newly-reopened wounds.

"Keep telling yourself that." There was not enough space inside of him to contain the multitude of emotions he felt.

Dean shook his head. His death grip on the gun relaxed, but only slightly. "I have never lost sleep over that decision, Ben." His lips twisted in a self-depreciating smile that Ben recognized, but whatever he was thinking he kept to himself before continuing on. "It was one of the few selfless things I ever did. And yeah, maybe it wasn't the right thing to do, but I did it for you, so you could have a normal life. Not my fault, whatever happened after."

"Selfless?" came Ben's indignant answer. Fury broke on his face and before he could stop himself, his hands came up and he shoved the older man with all the strength of a bull. The shove forced Dean to take a step back. His weaker leg couldn't hold his weight, and he lurched. He instinctively grabbed at Ben's shoulder to hold himself up. The cane thumped the ground, and a shot that sent the birds squawking rang out from the gun, bullet tearing in to the wall of the house. In the throes of his anger, Ben didn't even register it.

"Selfless? Fuck you! You didn't wanna be responsible anymore. You left!And not only that, but you left us without any sort of idea how to protect ourselves! How is that selfless!"

An awkward hop got Dean's feet back under him. "Son of a bitch," he growled. The metal brace of the artificial leg and foot showed where his jeans had drawn up and Ben stared, momentarily derailed. He kicked his leg out to try and settle the denim back in place.

"I fucked up, Ben. You and your mother were never supposed to be part of it. I fucked up the day I went to her, I knew better. That was my mistake, not the rest."

"I don't care," Ben threw back at him. It was a bold faced lie, but he couldn't stand to hear Dean's argument anymore. It hurt too much.

Dean secured the gun and tucked it back in his waist band. "Fine. You found me. I'm guessing this isn't the reunion you were hoping for. You want to go, go. Free and clear." Dean put both his hands up as if in surrender before letting them fall to his sides. "'Cause I think we're done here."

The phone in his pocket buzzed again, but once more Ben ignored it. Dean was telling him to leave. He felt like his heart was breaking all over again.

"I need the Colt," he said in a low monotone.

For a moment Dean could only stare at him. He recovered, took a step toward him, an arm raised as if he meant to grab the younger man by the shirt, but he fell short. He stood in front of him, crowding his personal space. "You've got some nerve, coming up in here, acting like I owe you something, thinking you can just demand the Colt." Dean shook his head. His eyes burned dark. "Get - the hell- off - my - land."

"Either give it to me, or shoot me, but I'm not leaving without it," Ben said, his voice going rough.

"Hope you brought a tent." Dean bent to retrieve his cane, and once he had it in hand he started to move toward the stairs to climb the porch. "And a blanket. It gets cold out here at night."

He didn't even look at him. Ben grabbed him at the shoulder and very nearly yanked him back.

"I'm not asking you. You didn't ask me if I wanted my memories, goddammit. Give me the gun."

"I don't have it." Dean kept a calm stance as he turned to face Ben. "You're wasting your time, and mine."

Ben could see Claire's face in his mind, disapproving and trying to suggest another route. He could see Jesse's too, egging him on, telling him to take what he wanted. And for the briefest moment he saw his mother's, but that only made him angrier. Ben pulled his hand back with the same ferocity as before, throwing a punch straight into his jaw. He saw Dean tense, clearly having expected the punch, and he didn't flinch until Ben's fist collided with his jaw. He kept his footing, though his head whipped to the side. Teeth clenched, his father breathed through the initial waves of pain. Without any explanation, he drew the gun from his jeans and tossed it onto the porch, sending it skidding out of reach.

"You're a moron if you think I'm just going to hand over the Colt because you ask so fucking nicely," Dean spat, spitting blood onto the lower step. "It doesn't work that way, kid. Besides, I don't believe you really want it."

"Just like you didn't want my mom?" Ben shouted back at him. "Or me?" He grabbed Dean by the shirt and yanked him forward. The motion was enough to take his feet out from under him. Dean growled as he hit the step, sliding down another before his good foot caught him and halted the downward slide. He flung an arm out, intent on hitting Ben, but the younger man grabbed his arm and yanked him again, throwing him back. The only sound he could hear was his pulse roaring in his ears.

"I'm gonna save them with or without your help!" he shouted again.

"Hold it right there!" came a barked voice just behind them. The safety of a gun clicked off.

"Stand down, Sam. I got this." He turned his gaze past Ben's shoulder, lips turned up in a crooked, mean smile. "But nice of you to drop by. We were just having a happy little family reunion here, weren't we, Ben?" The name was said with a deliberate tilt of his head.

Ben turned to look at the new arrival, just in time to see the dark look of a man under attack replaced first with confusion, then with realization. Just like before, the man he saw had aged, but time had been a little kinder on Sam Winchester. Ben barely managed to keep from swaying on his feet.

"But Cas-" Sam started. Dean shook his head.

"He fucked that up, just like he fucked everything. Don't know how. We haven't gotten that far." Dean shifted, pushed into a sitting position, and rubbed at his knee where he'd hit the hard wood of the step. "Junior here wants the Colt, and he has yet to tell me why, or convince me why I should care."

Sam's eyes moved to Ben's with that same searching gaze. Ben felt like screaming until his voice gave out.

"Dean..." Sam started again, but this time it was Ben who interrupted him.

"I either try and kill it with the fucking Colt, or I get to ride the fucking comet!" Ben yelled. "And you know what, I don't even care anymore! Screw you! Thanks for nothing, you selfish sonuvabitch!"

Dean caught his hand before he got too far away, then used him as a balance to yank himself up to his feet. "Calm the fuck down." His mood seemed to have adjusted with the presence of his brother, and Ben inwardly seethed at the realization.

"Sammy'll go get us all a beer, and we can talk about this. And you can start by telling me what the hell itis, and why you're so hell bent on killing it with the Colt."

Marta Turner looked at herself in the mirror, blinking wide as her contacts settled in place. Random fuzzy thoughts buzzed around her head; snippets of things she had wanted to do earlier that morning but now had no desire to even set foot outside the house. She was distracted by something as undefined as the dreams fading from her recent - unusually long - nap.

No more antacids with cough syrup. That had to be the only explanation; she'd stopped dreaming about Jesse years ago, and just the thought of relapsing was enough to drag up an old sadness that had to be reburied. She sniffed once, looking down at the sink in order to splash some water on her face when the sound of the doorbell cut through her thoughts.

A dark green eye peered through the peephole before she opened the door; Marta kept her expression pleasantly neutral. The young woman on the other hand might have been seventeen, her blond hair pulled back and exposing a long gash across her forehead.

"Sorry to bother you," she said in a weak, tired voice. "I crashed my bike. Do you have a first aid kit?"

Marta immediately switched into mom-mode, her eyebrows lifted high with concern. "Oh geez-yeah, hang on." Leaving the door open, she turned toward the linen closet at the front of the hallway, calling behind her. "Do you need to call someone?"

"My phone's outta minutes," the young woman called from outside the door, her arm held against her forehead to stave off the bleed. "What's this weird tape on the ground? Bug blocker or something?"

"What?" Pulling the white plastic box out, Marta sent a confused look over her shoulder. She examined it closer after handing the girl the kit. "I-I'm not really sure."

The girl settled on the little bench outside and started to open the kid, opening one of the little packets of sanitizing wipes and thoroughly scrubbing her forehead.

"You're Mrs. Turner, right?"

Marta had crouched next to the door, picking curiously at the sticky strip that crossed her front door's thresh hold. "Yeah," she said, distracted, then looked up at the girl. "Do I know you?"

The girl was suddenly standing in front of her, lips curved in a wide smile, her eyes completely black.

"No, but I know your son," she answered, her voice suddenly deeper and tall-voweled. She grabbed Marta by the throat and lifted her clear off the ground with inexplicable strength. A strangled noise and a few hard kicks did nothing to dispel the moment of sudden panic in the older woman's eyes. She clawed at the teenager's arm, her lips gaping voiceless screams of shock. The teenager's mouth opened as well, her black eyes crinkled in the corner with a smile as a sudden stream of black smoke poured out of her. Rather than moving with the direction of the wind, it rose and arced before rushing down Marta's throat. Her body went rigid in the exchange, eyes widening with horror as she felt it expand inside her and consume every part.

In the span of a few moments, the grip on her throat went loose and Marta landed on her feet, the blonde teenager collapsing. Tipping her head to the left, then the right, her neck cracked and she took a deep breath.

"No!" The voice was high with desperation, and the demon turned to see Jesse standing on the walkway. He'd gone so pale he was nearly gray and he swayed slightly where he stood, staring at her.

The demon grinned at him, winking with his mother's deep brown eyes, before blowing him a kiss and vanishing from sight. His body jolted forward, as if to stop her, but he was far too late. He stumbled to the stairs, staring at the woman who looked back at him with dead eyes. Why, why, why? I didn't- I can't-

"Ruth," he rasped out.

The air around him felt charged with static as the body appeared next to him, hands on his shoulders. He reached back, grabbing her hand like it was the last thing holding him up.

[ Hurt hurt hurt don't hurt him don't be hurt gotta help him gotta help anything you want anything-]

"Breathe, Jess, breathe," she told him.

"We need to go, now," he gasped out. "They- My mom-"

She shook her head, squeezing his shoulders harder. "They're expecting that. You go in there, they'll grab you before you even take a breath." [ Please don't please don't don't hurt him don't hurt him he's everything gotta save him die for him protect him save him]

It was instinct. He turned, arms wrapping around her, pulling her desperately hard against him. [ What do I do? please please please]

Her emotion was almost tangible as it tightened around him; Love, devotion, concern, faith, twisting and interweaving like a blanket of pure light.

[ Submit to it and they win. Don't let them win. Keep him safe keep him safe keep him safe die for him anything he wants]

"They're trying to lure you in. They want you to come. If you go without knowing what you're doing, they'll take you."

[ String you up bleed you out torture you hurt you can't let them take you not ready so strong so very strong but walls in the way holding back gotta bust through them gotta reach deep down inside]

He curled against her, face buried against her neck, trying to lose himself in her thoughts and emotions. They were at least less jagged than his own.

"Have to call Ben," he finally murmured.

Her arms tensed around him for a moment before they released, pulling back enough to take his face in her hands.

"Just breathe." [ Love him love him lovehimlovehim ] "He'll help you. He'll understand." [ Follow him anywhere everywhere die for him anything he wants]

The sentiment was a bit twisted, but that didn't stop him from feeling better. He nodded, taking a deep breath. Then he reached for his phone.

The house was dusty as hell, not to mention drafty and cold, but the lights worked and there was a kitchen with tables and chairs. Ben stood. Sam had argued about leaving them alone together and for all that the two of them had been quiet about it, Ben had a pretty good idea why. He remembered that part of the books, how Sam had felt about his and Dean's father, how angry he'd been. The uncanny familiarity of the two events was enough to make Ben's skin crawl.

The smell of the place brought the memories back so vividly he almost thought he heard Bobby tromping through the house, but when the sound came back to the kitchen it had been Dean who came into the light again, with Sam following a few steps behind. Probably checking wards and traps. It was what he would have done.

Dean sat, kicked his legs out as if he meant to take up as much space as he possibly could. He leveled his eyes on Ben. "I don't hear any words coming out of your mouth." He couldn't say what would have happened out front if Sam hadn't showed up precisely when he did, but he was fairly certain they wouldn't have made it to the kitchen, where Dean was more willing to listen and give Ben a chance to explain.

Dean leaned forward, hands on his knees, eyes hard and intensely focused on Ben. "If this is some game you're playing, you might as well leave before Sam forgets what he's doing and-" Dean glanced at his brother, who nodded in silent acquiesce, then continued with a slightly lower volume, "-accidentally shoots you in the head. Otherwise, I suggest you start talking."

"It's not your fight," Ben answered in a bitter voice. "Isn't that what you always said, whenever anyone tried to talk you out of anything or tried to help you?"

Sam chuckled quietly from where he was leaning against the far wall.

"Thing is, I have something you want. Well," Dean amended with a tilt of his head, watching Ben. "I maybehave something you want." He could tell so much from the most subtle and mostly involuntary movements Ben made. "And I'm betting you came a long way to get it. You really going to leave without even trying?"

Dean had retired from the life, prematurely. He missed it. He'd wanted to get back in to it, and he would have rushed right back to it as soon as he was able to walk again, but he'd made a promise to Sam. As much as it killed him to play it safe and work on cars during the day and sit at home drinking beer in front of the television at night, that's what his life had come down to. Now he felt like everything was turned upside down, because Ben was all of three feet away, asking for his help. He knew he was a son of a bitch for all the resistance he was giving the kid, but he wasn't about to turn the Colt over just because Ben asked for it. With Sam standing over them, watching Ben just as closely as Dean watched him, it was going to take a hell of a lot more talking on Ben's part to have them so much as consider it; but Ben didn't even so much as let out a sound, staring his father down with a look of contempt. Again, Sam chuckled.

"God, this is like Twilight Zonematerial. He makes the same face you make."

"It's more like a boring bedtime story." Dean got to his feet, using the table as leverage. "Are we done here, then? Because I've got work to do." He took a step, moving past Sam but stopping at the doorway to look over his shoulder and back at Ben. "I trust you can find your way out?"

Something in Ben's eyes flickered, somewhere between panic and anger. Sam looked between them and sighed, then asked in a serious voice, "What'd you mean when you said 'ride the comet'?"

Ben didn't even look at Sam; he only had eyes for his father:

"There's a demon, trying to build up this army of hybrids. He found some way to track down vessels, and he's breeding them with something called a Grigori."

Some of the color drained out of Sam's face, but Ben continued on. "He's been doing this almost thirty years, tucked up inside some little area of nowhere. The only reason we even found out is because one of his little trackers found me and my girlfriend."

Dean had stopped just beyond the door frame. His back was to the kitchen, giving him some measure of privacy as he reacted to what Ben said. He took it all in, and pulled in a breath to steady himself, his nerves, before he turned back to stand in the doorway facing the kitchen, his shoulder slumped against the wall.

He glanced at Sam. So much could be communicated between them without a word. After a moment, Dean sighed and raised his hand to rub his temples and across his forehead. "I don't have the Colt, not here. It's too obvious if someone was to come looking for it." He'd come to the house and found it ransacked more than once, seemed to happen about once every couple of months.

"You didn't answer the question," Sam pressed, his voice a little tighter. The deja vu was giving him chills in the worst way, but Azazel was dead. Lucifer was still in his cage. They'd made sure of it.

Ben turned his eyes to Sam finally.

"You can't kill a demon without the Colt or the knife," Ben said. "And with the power this demon has, there was no way the knife was gonna kill him. He's too high up. An angel came to me and told me he could end it." Ben's eyes turned back to Dean's, his lips twisting in an ironic smile. "All I had to do was sign on the dotted line."

Rage long ago buried resurfaced, bubbled over, and exploded from Dean's fist. He rammed his hand into the wall, barely noticing the pain that ricocheted up his arm. He growled, sneering as he punched the wall again before he turned around. Though he appeared calm, a closer look revealed he was shaking, and his eyes were cold, hard, and dark with anger and aggravation.

Ben hadn't agreed to the deal. Dean knew he hadn't agreed to it, because he was here, looking for the Colt. It was some kind of trap, some desperate attempt to pull not only Dean, but Sam, back in to the game. Using Ben for that purpose was risky, and ran as much chance of backfiring as it had to succeed.

"Before we go any further, you're going to cut yourself with silver." Dean reached down to tug the blade free of his prosthetic. He hated that he doubted Ben, but hell, he hadn't seen the boy for ten years, and the last time he'd seen him Ben had thought he was some random idiot driver who caused an accident and put his mother in hospital with a huge gash in her side. How could he possibly accept anything Ben said at face value? When the stakes were this high, he had to be sure the kid wasn't pulling a scam, or playing part in a scam he may or may not even know about.

Sam was already drawing a flask out from inside of his pocket, but Ben just gave a bitter laugh.

"Please," Ben said, reaching into his own pocket to pull out his silver switchblade and putting it on the table for Dean to investigate. He found the pure silverstamp on the base, along with an etched pentagram. Ben's hand dropped to the holster on his thigh as well, flipping up the top of the utility bag and tugging out a flask not too unlike Sam's. He unraveled the rosary from it to show them, neatly dropped it inside and recited the Latin with perfect diction, then took a swig from it. When that was finished, he opened the knife and ran it sideways down the back of his arm over a knot of scar tissue. Blood immediately pooled in the cut. Dean moved to sit back down, to take the weight off his feet. He watched Ben perform the ritual without comment, and with barely a glance at Sam.

"You nearly bit my head off when I wasn't at school one day when you were comin' to pick me up," Ben said to Dean, even as he lifted his hand to his shirt collar to drag it down and show his anti-possession tattoo. Dean let out a breath, but stayed quiet. "And I yelled at you that you weren't my dad, before running upstairs and locking myself in my room. You came up and I shouted at you to go away." As if to spite him, his eyes had started welling up with tears. "And you said... that you weren't tryin' to be my dad, but that didn't mean you didn't care about me and didn't want me hurt, and that mom would kill you if something happened to me. You almost called me Sam."

"You were so much like Sam. Your mom never told me I was your father, always insisted I wasn't. But you were so much like Sam, it was hard to miss. When I asked Cas to take the memories, I thought it was the right thing to do. I wanted you to be happy and safe, Ben." Dean's voice was laced with regret. "I was wrong, but that doesn't mean I didn't have your best interests in mind."

So many old wounds, ripped open in such a short time. Dean sighed. "I can get you the Colt in about six hours. You stay here. And I need insurance, assurance I'll get the gun back after you make your kill."

"I can't wait six hours," Ben said in a thick voice. "My friends are out there with bulls-eyes on their backs. I'm going with you."

Dean spared a glance at Sam. With a nod he stood, and the two brothers stepped out of the room. They spoke in hushed whispers, just out of ear shot. Sam kept an eye toward the kitchen to make sure Ben didn't move or try to listen in. When they headed back to the kitchen, Dean led the way.

"You ride with me. Sam will drive your car. Non-negotiable."

"Leave the car for all I care," Ben answered. "I can get another one. I'm going to Alliance after this."

Dean was already on the move toward the door. Sam paused only a moment, smirking slightly and brows lifting onto his high forehead. "You stole it?"

Ben gave him a thin-lipped smile. "He was double-parked."

Dean cracked a smile at the comment, the sign of a slight ease in tension. He shouldered his way out the kitchen door and into the afternoon sunshine. Without looking back, he ambled across the yard toward the Impala. She'd been refurbished a few times, but she still ran better than any other car on the roads as far as Dean was concerned. Sam fell into step on his left, his gait long-since adjusted to Dean's old wounds. Ben had hesitated for a few beats before catching up to them, settling on the right.

Jesse went over and over in his head what he was going to say, the description of the graveyard so maybe Ben would know where to meet them. If it even got there. He was ready to leave a very long message. He didn't expect Ben to answer in the middle of the first ring.

"I just got your message." Ben asked in a rushed voice, an undercurrent of panic making each consonant crisp. "Where are you?"

His mouth was open but nothing was coming out.

"Jess? Jesse?"

"I'm at my mom's," he blurted out in a rush. He looked at Ruth, then back at his feet. "They got her, too."

"Shit..." There was a muffled sound as Ben put his hand over the receiver, and two voices talking quickly and the short break of a third voice. All were male. "Can you meet us at the hotel?"

Us?"I...sure. Send me a photo," he said, his voice getting quiet.

"Yes." There was a brief pause, his voice hushed on the next words, "Are you okay?"

Jesse's stomach wrenched and he felt pin pricks at his eyes. He swallowed hard before answering, but his voice still came out scratchy. "I'm fine."

"Jess," Ben answered. "You're not. I know you're not. I'm still a few hours out. Talk to me."

His hand went instinctively to Ruth's, squeezing it tight. "Not now," he forced out. If he started talking, started thinking about it, he'd break. "Look, I've got Ruth here. We know where to go. It's going to be tough, so we'll have to get the drop on them, somehow. If you haven't found the gun-"

"I did."

Jesse stopped, for the first time feeling a twist of possible hope. "You're...fuck, I love you," he said, his words soft and honest. "Ruth's got an angel's blade. We got two ways to kill the bastard."

"She what?" Ben exclaimed. "How the hell did that happen?"

"Something with being a Nephilim, I guess," he said, looking at Ruth with a smile. "The angel part of her can call it at will."

"Dude," Ben whined slightly. "This would've been helpful a lot earlier."

Jesse's smile faltered. "I...didn't know until now. Sorry. I should've..."

"No, it's fine. It's- I wouldn't even've thought to ask. This is just... do all of them?"

That got an eyebrow raise. He turned to Ruth. "Do all of you have the swords?"

Ruth nodded.

"Yeah, and they'll follow me, except Belial probably won't let them get close once I'm there. I don't know if we can use that," Jesse said, frowning slightly.

"We'll figure it out. Tia taught me a trick. Maybe we can sneak in through the back. We can do this. We'll get them back."

His lips pursing, Jesse nodded firmly. "How much longer until I can meet up with you? We got to get this done quick. After what they did to Claire last time..."

"We did it your way last time," Ben said, his voice taking on a harder edge. "We gotta do this right, Jess. He's holding all the cards and if he thinks he'll lose, he'll burn 'em all. Please just... Dean, how much longer?" There was a muffled response on the other side. "Yeah, thanks. I... thanks. I'll be there soon. Don't leave without me, I'm beggin' you, Jess."

Jesse felt silent before finally saying a very quiet, "Okay."

Ben gave a shaky sigh on the other end. "I love you. Don't forget that. I told you I'd fix this and I will."

"I love you, too," he said barely above a whisper. It felt like the world was closing in on him and he huddled over his knees. "I...I'm sorry. I should have listened to you."

"I'm quoting you on this later, he said, the faintest smile in his tone. "Just so you know. Hold tight."

Jesse couldn't bring himself to smile. Squeezing Ruth's hand, he nodded. "Okay."

There was a shaky sigh on the other end, and then the line went dead.

Jesse had Ruth go back to the car to finish cleaning things up while he hid the other body inside the house, and then told her to just go wherever she wanted but be ready for his call. She decided to wait until Ben sent the photo of the hotel room. Giving her hand one last squeeze, Jesse appeared with his back to Ben. As he turned, he wanted to just throw his arms around Ben, but after everything he'd done wrong, he wasn't sure if Ben would welcome it.

Luckily, Ben made the choice for him, embracing him with such force that all the air was pushed out of his lungs.

"He's getting the gun," Ben said in a breathless voice. "It shouldn't take long. Tell me what happened."

Jesse clung to him, refusing to let go. "He summoned me when we were driving," he said, his voice rough. "I didn't go, so he just kept doing it. Claire stopped the car to try to help, and these demons attacked. I tried to stop them, Ben, I tried, but it hurt so badly..."

Ben pulled back to crush his lips to Jesse's in a kiss. He'd started trembling.

"I never should have left," he said hoarsely when he pulled back. "This is my fault. I'm sorry."

"No, no, I should have listened to you, we should have stayed at the hotel." His voice was fervent, his hands clenching in Ben's shirt. "I didn't even save my mom. The tape was pulled back and they took her, too."

Ben's face twisted into a bitter, hateful scowl. "Well, he's not gonna be livin' much longer. We'll fix this."

A tinge of panic came to Jesse's voice. "They're in New Jersey. It will take so long to get there. I don't- If something happens to them, I won't-"

"Jess," Ben interrupted, his hands coming up to hold Jesse's face. "We have no idea what it's like there. This is a trap."

"I know. And it's going to work, because I can't just leave them," he said, his expression twisting. "I'll try to surprise him, or I'll do whatever he asks, anything to get them back."

Real fear filled Ben's eyes. "No. Don't do this. We can fix this together, just- please, don't, please."

"Then tell me what to do. Tell me what I can do," Jesse challenged.

"We need to have a plan of attack," Ben said quickly. "You said Ruth knows the place. She can tell us what to expect, and we can try and come at him from two angles. If you wanna take all that stuff and make it a diversion, we can do that, but you are not going without me,understand?"

"We gotta go now then," Jesse said firmly. "He's going to hurt them, and badly."

Dean had a lot of time to think, while he was off retrieving the Colt. He'd given a lot of thought to turning back, without giving up the gun. He hadn't seen Ben in years, had thought he'd never see the kid again. He probably owed him a great deal, but he didn't feel that it was a debt he particularly needed to pay. He'd done what he could to give Ben a chance at a better life, a normal life. It wasn't his fault things hadn't worked out like he'd hoped.

But he also knew it took a lot of guts and nerves and desperation for Ben to seek him out. And while he didn't feel he was obligated to give Ben anything, he wantedto come through for the kid. He'd failed him so many times, so many ways. He was gambling with the Colt, but maybe it was time to hand it down to the next generation. It wasn't like he kept the Colt on hand, anyway. He hadn't even taken it out of storage since he'd lost his leg. He hadn't seen much point.

With a sigh, he pulled the Impala into a parking spot and got to his feet. The Colt was nowhere to be seen as he ambled his way to the room where he was set to meet Ben. He was willing to take the chance that it wasn't a trap, that Ben was on the level with him, and so he raised a fist to knock.

Ben had been midway through taking a breath to explain, but the knock derailed him. Pulling out his gun, he moved to the door and leaned up to look through the peephole. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he opened it.

"Where's Sam?" he asked.

"Around." Dean waved a hand. "Checking the perimeter." He shrugged. Sam tended to stay close, for a number of reasons. "Did you want to wait for him?" Dean leaned heavily on his cane.

"No, it's-" Ben looked over his shoulder at Jesse, conflicted, before pulling the door open to let Dean in. "You said insurance. What's it gonna take?"

Jesse stepped back, his eyes a little round, but he couldn't help but be disappointed by the man that he saw. He was so old. And short. Not sure what to say, he kept his mouth shut.

Dean stepped inside. He glanced at the room, and shrugged. He'd seen a million rooms like it. Hazel eyes fell on Jesse as Dean looked him over. If a long forgotten memory stirred somewhere deep inside of him, he pushed it back down; he couldn't be bothered to try and figure out if he knew Ben's friend, and had no real reason to think he might. He'd been prepared to give the Colt to Ben, no strings attached, before Sam got to them. He sighed and focused his attention on his son; he needed to do it before he changed his mind.

"We could go around about that all night. Fact is: I'm tired, you're tired. I don't know about you, but I've got a long drive ahead of me to get back to my own bed tonight. So let's cut the bullshit." Dean drew the gun out from the back of his jeans, gripped the barrel and held it out to Ben. "Sam's not on board with this, so don't rub it in his face." It was only after he'd finished speaking that Dean glanced at the young man a few feet behind Ben.

"Who's your friend?"

Everything inside Ben told him to respond back with it being none of his business, but he swallowed it down. It wasn't the time for that. The entire day had turned out like his worst nightmare; there was no need to make it worse.

"He's not a demon, if that's what you're asking," he replied with a flat tone, taking the gun's handle. It weighed a lot less than he'd imagined.

"I didn't figure you wanted the Colt for him," Dean answered with a dismissive wave toward Jesse. He could care less who the young man was or why he was with Ben. The less Dean knew was probably for the better.

Glancing at the door, he said, "Sam should be about finished with his rounds." Dean took a step toward it. "And if you're in such a hurry, you should get on the road." That may have been about as close to a goodbye as Dean could get. He was under no illusions, he expected this was it, and he'd never see Ben again.

"Wait!" The word came out slightly strangled as Jesse stepped towards him. "Please. They took- they took our friend. We need help getting her back."

Ben blinked in surprise at the sudden outburst, pausing just long enough to slide the gun into the back of his jeans.

"Jess-"

Another body appeared in the shadow of the cracked-open door.

"There was some sulfur on the sill in the next room," Sam said in a quiet but severe tone. "It's old, but I'm not really liking it. We should move."

Dean's gaze swept the room, taking in the three of them in turn. With a shrug, he led the way to the door, and once he stepped outside, he turned back. "You heard my brother. Move it." He shouldered his way past Sam.

Dean had reservations about joining Ben's hunt. He wasn't exactly as quick, or capable, as he once was, and Sam...Dean shook his head, and looked over his shoulder at his brother.

"How do you feel about a hunt? 'Cause I think we just got drafted."

Sam's face pinched in a frown, and he looked quickly back at the two men tromping behind them a few feet back.

"If you're okay with it..." he said slowly and with obvious skepticism.

Dean drew his focus to Sam, deliberately not looking at Ben and his friend. His eyes clouded over, he reached a hand up to scrub across his face. "He's my son, Sam, and he came to me for help. I can't walk away from that."

"Not sayin' you should," Sam answered. "I just don't want a repeat of Milwaukee, is all, and we don't even know what these two have gotten themselves into."

"We're about to find out." Dean tapped his cane on the pavement. He wasn't going to ask questions or demand answers out in the open. He arched his brow at Ben, then moved toward the Impala.

Ben watched as the two older men got into the front seat, his heart hammering in his chest.

"We're not gonna be able to plan now," Ben said in a tight voice to Jesse. "Not with the advantages we have."

"We still don't have time," Jesse said in the same firm tone as he'd used in the hotel room. "They're good backup, Ben, but that's all. I can't exactly sneak up on the place anyway, so it doesn't make sense for me to come with you. If I can go there, maybe with Ruth, find out where Claire and my mom are held, then Ruth could tell you where-"

"No," Ben interjected vehemently. "Goddammit, Jess-"

"They'll know I'm there!" Jesse snapped. "The only fucking good I am now is drawing their attention so you can get in there and save Claire, but if I'm not there soon, I- Ben, they nearly broke her before. Someone's got to take the attention off of her."

It was that last suggestion that drained all the fight out of him. Ben felt his entire stomach twist up into knots, the urge to throw up extremely strong.

"They'll kill you," he rasped.

"Not if they don't have to." Jesse's voice was quiet but his eyes were locked on Ben's. "They keep going after people I love to make me come to them, but Belial could have killed me a half dozen times before. They don't want me dead, they want me on their side. They're trying to use Claire as leverage, so if I go, she'll be fine."

Ben didn't care that his father and uncle were sitting in the Impala and mere inches away from him; he embraced Jesse with the same ferocity as he had in the hotel room.

"Don't you dare fucking die," Ben told him. "It's gonna take us a day to get up there. Maybe less, if we drive through the night and speed. So go. Stay alive."

Jesse nodded, squeezing him tight. "You, too. I'll see you, soon. When we get Claire back."

Ben turned and got into the car without another word, shutting the door hard behind him as Jesse made a show of heading back into the hotel. Sam turned to look back over his shoulder at him.

"He's not comin'?"

"He's flyin' in," Ben said, the lie almost too easy. "Wants to get a jump on the bastard's lair."

"Gives you plenty of time to tell us what's really going on here." Dean hadn't missed the intensity of the goodbye between the two. He might interrogate Ben about that later, but first he wanted information about the hunt. Dean glanced at Sam, then put the car in gear and headed for the road. "You can start by telling me where we're going. Exactly where we're going."

"Clifton, New Jersey," Ben answered.

Sam's brows rose and he sent a sideways look over to Dean.

"Clifton?" he asked, wanting to clarify. Ben nodded, and Sam's frown deepened. "There's a devil's gate there."

"I know," Ben said with a little hardness to his voice. Dean hit the gas a little harder than necessary. He sneered at the mention of a Devil's Gate, but didn't comment.

"Great. Now tell us the rest of the story." Dean had already surrendered his leverage - the Colt - and had nothing to use to get Ben to tell him anything, if the younger man didn't want to talk. Sighing, he focused his eyes on the road.

"I told you everything there was to tell," Ben snapped in answer. "They took my girlfriend. I just want to get her back, whatever it takes. Jess wants back up."

Sam's expression shifted slightly, but he didn't look back at the younger man in the back seat. When he'd first heard Ben talking to 'Jess' on the phone, the face of his long-dead girlfriend had immediately flooded his mind; it was odd to learn that Jess was, in fact, a man.

Dean's answer was to turn on the radio. He wasn't sure he and Sam were qualified to be back-up anymore. Hell, they'd never been backup; they'd been the guys in the front, reckless and willing to risk everything for someone they didn't even know most of the time. Sam had taken a few small time cases since Dean's injury had forced them both in to retirement, but they were out of practice and probably in way over their heads. Even so, Dean had no regrets. Ben had asked for his help, and that was worth the risk in Dean's book.