They were all tired. And once again, with his close call, Ben found himself being crowded on either side of the bed by Claire and Jesse. It was a wonder he was able to get away from them at all, but Claire slept like a rock for the first time in days, and Jesse's only real concern was that he'd be right back. Ben didn't want to be gone long, but there were a few things he wanted to handle before his brain would allow him to fall asleep.

It was cold outside, too cold for pajamas and a jacket, so that only really left crawling into the GTO as a buffer from the wind. He stared down at his cellphone for a long time, turning it over and over in his hand, before he finally drew up the courage to open up the contact list and find Dean's number. It was late, he might not even answer, but Ben didn't mind if he didn't. He'd leave a message with the things he wanted to say. It might even be easier. Taking a deep breath, he pressed the Talkbutton and brought the phone up to his ear.

Dean picked up in the middle of the fifth ring, his voice rough. "Kid, you better be on fire."

He limped heavily back to his bed, having just dragged himself across the room. The phone for Ben lived in his leather jacket, so it would always be close at hand. During the day. Ben let out a noise on the other end of the phone that sounded dangerously close to a sob, but when he spoke his voice was only a little thick.

"I wasn't actually, ah, expecting you to answer at all."

"That'd mean Iwas on fire," Dean said, irritation clear in his voice. He ran a hand over his face to try to wake himself up before giving into the inevitable and turning on the bedside lamp. "You just callin' to shoot the shit?"

There was a short stretch of silence before the younger man answered. "I would've died today. Shot point blank in the liver, probably twenty minutes away from a town that's forty still from the nearest hospital."

Dean's eyes sharpened on the middle distance, his whole body going still. He could hear the quiet creaks of the settling house around him, the far-off buzz of the too-old refrigerator grating in his ears. Words. He should say words. "What happened?"

Ben stared ahead at the building in front of him, the window slowly fogging up with his breath as it visibly puffed out between his lips. His eyes remained unfocused, not really seeing anything anyway. Hearing the change in Dean's voice was enough to ease the knot in his stomach, but not by much.

"Tracked a were. Turned out there were two. One of them was married," he said, each fact stilted from the next. He made another noise, this one sounding like it could have been a laugh if it had tried a little harder. "He didn't want me to shoot his wife, and I'd broken into his house tracking the first."

He had to hold back hard on just asking "What happened?" again. It didn't matter that he was talking to Ben and so he was clearly fine. Dean needed to know how Ben got away; he needed to hear that he survived. "All right," he said, forcing patience into his voice.

Another stretch of silence settled. Ben brought a hand up to swipe the tears out from beneath his eyes, then took a slow breath through his mouth. If he breathed through his nose, no doubt there would be a sniff. The kind that rolled, which was almost as undignified as the small ones kids made when they were getting ready for a good weep. He didn't want to weep.

"I'm sorry, about what I said the other day," he said quietly. "It was wrong of me to say it. I got defensive. I just didn't want the last words you heard from me to be those."

"Don't get sappy on me, kid," Dean said, though his voice was gentle. "You were defending your hunt, and I got no right to question your skills. But you got it done and you lived through it. Ain't much more we can ask."

Ben shook his head even though his father couldn't see him. He wouldn't argue, couldn't bring himself to do it, but the fact remained that he'd cut the man when he'd never meant to do it. Mostly, he didn't argue because he knew how Dean would react if he tried. No chick-flick moments.

"Okay," he said in the same thick tone. He took another breath. "I need to ask you something. And you can say no, I'll understand it if you do, but... I can't ask Mom."

Dean glanced at the clock. That was an awfully foreboding statement for 3am. "Shoot, kid."

"Claire's eventually not gonna be able to keep hunting, when she's too far along. Hell, if Jesse had his wish, she wouldn't be hunting right now, but..." He sighed, pausing for a moment before continuing. "She needs to be somewhere safe. I thought maybe about askin' her friend Kat, but I'd feel better if it was you and Sam."

Never one for complicated emotions, Dean could only blink for a few moments. "I... Sure, kid. I mean, I gotta ask Sammy, but he's always been one step away from lactating anyway, so shouldn't be a problem." He paused again. "It's gonna be a fuck baby-proofing this place, though."

This time, Ben did laugh. It was small and short, but it was still genuine. "Don't worry. I'm sure Claire will be more than happy to do it, given she won't be able to do much else. She might even cook for you."

"Bonus," Dean said, his face crinkling in a smile. "When you aimin' at coming? And you bringing the... your... everyone?"

"You can say 'the other man,'" Ben said, a tint of humor in the words. He licked his lips, rolling them in thought. "I don't know. Maybe. I don't-... I don't know how he'd feel about it. Haven't really presented the idea to them yet." Deep down, he wondered if it had been a good idea asking at all. He didn't like having to ask for help, and he was pretty sure Jesse would rather it just be the three of them. Jesse also wanted them to both stop hunting; it didn't matter how many times he tried to explain that he couldn't, it was still expected. Ben sighed. "Thought gettin' the go-ahead from you would be the better plan of attack. That way all the work's done and it's in their court."

The smile slipped from Dean's face. He probably should have known that Ben hadn't got the okay from Ben's...the fuck was he supposed to call them? Partners? He cleared his throat. "Well don't try'n force them to live with old has-beens in a dusty-ass house. Just, we're here if you need us."

Ben let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you," he said quietly. "It— thank you, Dad."

The tone of his voice relaxed Dean some. "Yeah. Well you can thank me by letting an old man get his sleep."

That brought a smile to Ben's face. For the briefest moment he thought about telling him more, about his and Claire's vows, about the issues with Jesse's followers, but he held back. He'd find out about everything once they were there, if he was observant enough. As for the Nephilim... maybe it would be better if nobody knew about that. It wasn't as though Jesse was planning to parade them around the salvage yard. He just hoped they stayed wherever he was keeping them and wouldn't come panicking at their doorstep if he didn't show up for a few weeks.

"Goodnight."

The same words were on Dean's lips before he paused. "Ben. I just wanted... The thing about dying is, don't matter if you go up or down, it's no picnic. So, y'know. Don't."

Ben swallowed. "Can't promise anything," he said honestly, feeling a twist in his stomach. "Everybody's gotta go sometime. I'll just... I'll be careful."

With an attempt at a smile, Dean said, "Well, you're smarter than your old man, so you should last a while." There was a longer pause as he tried to figure how to shape the words. He couldn't. Instead he said, "Good night, Ben."

Ben felt his eyes mist up again, and was just about to say something in response, but the line clicked off. It was probably the closest thing he'd ever heard to "I'm proud of you" from the other man since he was a kid, and even then. There had been other words too, hidden in that last pause. Words he knew were much harder to say, especially after so much regret. He got it, though.

Dropping the phone into his pocket, he pushed out of the car and trudged back to the hotel room.