Bergamot & Sulphur
Chapter 15: Dragon Pearl Jasmine
Where the boards and whorled posts of the abandoned cabin are not eaten away by rot and grunge, forlorn cobwebs cling in chalky draperies, and the remnants of some creature's warren competes with black mold to wrestle the wooden planks of the floor back into the sodden earth. Crowley contemplates the rickety stove and soot-stained remains of a stone hearth. A small copper pot from his pack, water from his thermos, and fire from his fingertips puts water on to boil. Juliet stalks back and forth in front of the paneless windows, whining softly. Outside, the pines creak ominously in the peculiar hush of the woods, the grey filtered light melding into the low fog creeping across the forest floor. When the water is ready, Crowley pulls a small satchel of jasmine pearls from his pack, and sets the tea to steep.
He is just enjoying the first sip when Juliet's terse snarl heralds the expected arrival. The door of the cabin bursts open. Floorboards groan and give way under the tumbling, thrashing weight of two bodies. The young hunter scrambles to his feet, the monster gouges claws through the rotting wood as it wrenches across the cabin, seeking escape. The muscular, snarling thing slams into the binding spell Crowley scorched into the walls. Bound and boiling with rage, the creature bares tooth and talon, and prepares to lunge.
The sturdiest timber serves as Crowley's post, against which he leans and sips the sweet, floral tea. The hunter blocks the door, secures his footing, unsheathes a machete. It is only a few months since Ben Braedon contacted Mother Mary's Home for Wayward Sons and Daughters, searching for support and supplies, mentorship and the affirmation of something he had vaguely suspected since childhood. His training consists of dubious lore located in university libraries, daunting cases worked on weekends, and the indeterminable conviction that saving people and hunting things is a destiny determined by bonds of blood and family. Quick on his feet, with a sharp wit and open demeanor that convinces others to confide, a resolve verging on recklessness. He's also a little too eager to prove himself, but that's no surprise. In the murk of the cabin, half covered in dirt and blood, Ben looks enough like a certain Winchester that Crowley is confident of the boy's parentage.
The monster makes its move, barreling towards the hunter. Crowley can sense, if not actually see, Juliet preparing to intercept the beast. His hand on her shoulder, reminding. Her billowed woof, tense and trembling with restraint. The pup is here to learn. Learn how to hunt, how to grind down his fear and his recklessness and sharpen himself into someone who can survive. The mentor and hellhound are only here to ensure he does so without losing any limbs. Crowley rather likes the boy, after all.
It will always be beyond belief to me that Ben Braedon did not show back up as a young hunter before the series ended. How did the supernatural not creep back into his life as he got older, and an instinct to protect those he loved combined with buried memories of the man who was like a father, eventually turn down a familiar road? And maybe Dean didn't want his pseudo-son to become a hunter. But there was so much about Ben that resembled Dean. And it is easy to imagine a college-age Ben encountering a situation, and somehow knowing what to do, or at least where to start looking. And for that to carry him on down that road, and eventually lead him back to Dean. To his memories either coming back or being restored. To his taking up the mantle of the Winchester family. Would there be fights over Ben's choices? Of course there would, because isn't that just the Winchester way? But in the end, it would have been Ben's choice, and Dean would have made damn sure the kid was properly prepared for the life he'd chosen.