So it's probably a good thing that I can write a little bit, because apparently I can't count. I appreciate all of your comments and reviews, and I have decided that because my previous story only contained 9 of the 10 challenge words, I would go ahead and redo it completely. I swear though, if they're not all here this time, I give up: healing, gushing, gift, urban, beggar, buffet, sideways, sound, flatness, diplomacy.

The Things They Carried

Dean once read this book about the Vietnam War, back when he was in school. He remembers the town they were in when the book was assigned: Jackson, Mississippi. He remembers the reason for being there: a particularly nasty spirit that was haunting a nearby hotel. (It took a while for Dad to figure out how to convince the hotel's manager that she needed to put holes in every wall and drop hex bags into them, so they'd stayed for a few weeks). And he remembers the name of the book: The Things They Carried. He remembers all of this, because this was the same year that Sam had come home with a C+ on his midterm report card. When Dean asked him about it, Sam said it was because, like his big brother, he had stopped reading the books his teacher had assigned in class. Said he found it all to be pretty pointless. So Dean had started reading.

And he made sure Sam saw.

Every day after school, he would collapse sideways onto the lumpy motel bed that he shared with his little brother, and he would pull out his book and start skimming the pages. After the first week, it became a routine for both of them, a silent agreement that carried on as the years passed and the Winchesters moved from town to town, school to school. No matter where they were; the back-alley neighborhood of a town in south Boston with the perpetual beggar on the corner, or the often reminisced two weeks in a four-start hotel on the corner of an urban Chicago street, they would always find time for just the two of them- sprawled out on the floor or shoulder to shoulder on a thin mattress. Just reading.

Dean doesn't really remember any other books. Just the one about the Vietnam War. Because there was this one part about these two soldiers named Jensen and Skunk or Strunk or something like that that had stayed with him for some reason. In the book, the two men started off hating each other, but after a few weeks in the heat of combat, they'd become brothers; made a pact that if one of them were to be wounded in battle, the other would agree to kill them as a form of mercy.

"Hey, stay with me, man," a thick, Southern drawl cut through Dean's reminiscing, and he looked up to see the broad-shouldered form of Benny staring stoically down at him, fingers wrapped a little too tightly around an enormous machete-like weapon that could only be found in a place like Purgatory. "Come on now, stay awake brother."

Benny lowered himself slowly onto the ground until he was kneeling beside Dean, giving the hunter's shoulder a rough squeeze. "Only way I'm gonna let you tend to your own injuries is if you can actually do it without falling asleep."

Benny sounded calm, but Dean could hear the distinct undercurrent of something hidden beneath the flatness of his usually rhythmic tone. Dean assumed it had something to do with the blood that was currently spilling out from his stomach, despite his attempts to keep his insides together, hands pressed tightly against the wound. No matter how comfortable with each other they'd become over the last few weeks…months…in Purgatory, Benny was still not quite over the distinct smell of a human's blood after so many years without it.

"M'not f'llin asleep," Dean growled in response, surprised at how slurred his words sounded. "Just wasn't prepared to be the main course for a ghoul's all-you-can-eat buffet, thank you v'ry much."

"Yeah well, we best get moving," Benny urged. "I think I can hear a stream a little ways North of here. We head that way, we can get you cleaned up."

Dean nodded and tried to stand. Benny caught him before he could hit the ground.

"S'rry," Dean coughed, his bloodied hands automatically reaching to hold onto the vampire's jacket to stay balanced. Benny tensed, but only for a moment while Dean gathered himself. Once Dean was standing on his own two feet, they took off at a slow pace, Benny leading the way and Dean following after him and the invisible sound of whatever it was Benny had apparently heard. As they walked, Dean tried very hard not to think about the hole in his stomach. He also tried very hard not to think about how natural it had become to listen to a vampire, to take his direction almost without question. Almost like they were…

Purgatory was a strange place, and it was turning his world upside down the longer he stayed here. Which is why he had to find Cas.

Find Cas. Get out.

It was the checklist that ran through his head on an endless loop.

Not long after, they arrived at a gushing stream, and Dean tried not to roll his eyes at Benny's 'I told you so' glance in his direction.

"Aw, come on now," Benny grinned. "Don't look so sour, mate. The gods of Purgatory have given us a gift."

Dean glanced sideways at his comrade.

"Oh come on Benny, don't tell me you believe in that religious crap."

Benny inclined his head thoughtfully, not speaking for a few moments.

"I suppose I do, in a way," he said after a while. "First of all, I'm from the South. Very religious region, if you didn't know." Dean rolled his eyes again, but Benny continued. "Though I think, over time, my views have shifted slightly."

"How do you mean?" Dean asked, genuinely curious now.

"I believe in a sort of…diplomacy, if you will. A balance to all things. There's good and there's bad. There's Heaven and there's Hell. There's pain and guilt and loss, but there's also love and joy. And the chance for redemption."

"My god you've gone soft," Dean joked, his laughter cut off by the pain that shot across his torso.

"Would you knock it off and get on with the healing," Benny huffed in mock annoyance, one corner of his mouth pulling up into a half-smile when Dean flipped him the bird.

A few hours later, when Dean's wound had been cleaned out and wrapped with an innovative combination of leaves and plant stems and he'd had a chance to rest, the pair was moving again.

"You doin' alright now, brother?" Benny asked, observing the way Dean leaned forward as he walked now, hunched over with one arm wrapped around his stomach.

"I'll be fine," Dean nodded, shooting a reassuring glance at the vampire walking beside him. He wished it wasn't such a comfortable exchange. He wished he could see the end of this war, a way out of all the chaos. He thought about making a death pact.

He thought about Sam.

Find Cas. Get out.

Find Cas. Get out.

No pact needed.

I realized after I wrote this that the next episode of Supernatural is, funnily enough, also called The Things They Carried. That's quite the happy coincidence. What's not so happy is me right now, because we have to wait an entire month for said episode. Anyway, thank you for reading =). Your comments are always appreciated!