Ben couldn't settle down. He felt like he was still suffocating. His chest kept trying to pull in deep breaths, but failed. He was beginning to get lightheaded when he suddenly heard something from downstairs. The sound of someone crying.
His mother. He stopped all but breathing and listened. Never in his life had he heard such a miserable sound. A sound of someone who thought they had lost everything. His heart fell and tears sprung to his eyes. They dripped down his muddy cheeks and left trails in the dried dirt. She was crying because of him. She was miserable because of him. Her life wouldn't have looked like this if he hadn't been born to screw it up. He choked off a sob. His face screwed up in a frown as more tears dripped down his cheeks.
He sank to the floor and curled in on himself. This was all his fault. His mother would have never even known there was anything wrong in the world if he hadn't been born and subsequently taken by the changelings. All of it was because of him. She could have been happily married right now. Have lead a normal life if not for him.
And he was the only one who could fix it.
Dean and Sam hadn't returned to the cemetery after seeing Ben and his mom fight. Dean had been strangely quiet since then. Sam glanced up from his research to study his brother. He was worried Dean had been upset by the fight. Looking at him now, his brother seemed like he was pondering the meaning of the universe.
"Dean?" Sam tried. He didn't really want anything other than to hear his brother talk.
Dean immediately looked up, interrupted from his deep thoughts. "What? Found something?"
"No." Sam continued to stare.
"Then what?" Dean asked surprisingly patient.
Sam sighed and looked back down.
"What?" Dean prompted.
Sam looked back up. "You think we should have done something?"
"About what?" Dean was playing dumb. He didn't know why, though. It never worked.
"Back there with Ben and Lisa?"
Dean sighed wearily, instantly reminding Sam of just how much his older brother had really been through. "There was nothing we could have done, Sam. Stop obsessing over it."
"I was just asking."
"Well don't. Focus on the hunt." Dean nodded suggestively towards the computer and returned to not reading the newspaper clippings in front of him. His mind was elsewhere too. He just didn't want to admit it to himself. And certainly not Sam. That would just set off another 'why don't you just ask her to marry you and live happily ever after?' trip from Sam. So he buried his face in the papers hoping to find something useful.
Several hours later, Sam was the first to break the silence. "So what do you thing it is?"
Dean looked up and rubbed his tired eyes. "I have no idea, man. I'm kinda leaning towards the ghost."
"I thought you agreed with Ben?"
"Yeah, but that would just be way too coincidental even for us."
"How so?" Sam frowned and focused solely on his brother.
"I mean a trickster, which we hate, just happens to be reeking havoc in the town of my former lover?" Dean raised an eyebrow sardonically.
"Doesn't seem like such a far stretch knowing what we know."
"Having seen what we've seen." Dean finished. Sam nodded.
"So you really think he did a good job like you said?" Sam was careful to keep his voice calm and soft.
Dean frowned seemingly taking the very subtle bait. "Yeah I kinda do." Dean flashed a sad smile for about a second. Sam would have missed it if he hadn't been looking.
"You're proud of him aren't you?" There was more than a little astonishment in his voice.
Dean frowned again. "So what if I am?"
"Do you want him to become a hunter?"
"Of course not!"
"I was just asking-"
"Well stop asking stupid questions-"
"I will-"
"Fine!"
"Fine!" Sam huffed and disengaged from the verbal sparring match. Dean accepted the surrender happily and returned, frown in place, to his study of old articles. Sam tried several times to reengage his brother, but every attempt failed.
The bleak dawn quickly turned to morning which turned to day. The sun outside was shining and kids were playing in the park. Dean was getting stir crazy and needed some space. All night long Sam had tried to talk to him about his feelings. Get Dean to open up, which Dean had no intention of doing. So in a last ditch effort Dean had gone for coffee. That had alleviated the situation until ten minutes later when he returned with the coffee.
Sam had started back up. This time with sugar pumped coffee in his system. Dean had gotten annoyed, this time with tar black coffee in his system. It had escalated to a shouting match with Dean calling Sam a persistent little brat. Sam had just gotten even more riled up at the comment and left Dean no choice but to punch him or leave. Dean chose the latter. Things with his brother had never really settled down after Dean's trip to hell. After Sam's short alliance with Ruby. Things had been tense and awkward ever since then. Dean knew why. So did Sam. They were both just too stubborn and pigheaded to do anything about it. Sam was still keeping secrets and Dean was still refusing to share his emotional problems. 'Cause problems it was. He had slowly begun to acknowledge that about himself. He was slowly, step by step, letting go of all the old feelings of inadequacy. Very slowly.
He had left the cramped room in a hurry and was now stomping through the pleasantly quiet streets. He was lost in his own mind when he suddenly found a sign pointing him in the direction of Cicero High School. He tilted his head and mulled over the thought. It was a Sunday. The school was closed and it was probably not that difficult to break in. He felt in his pocket for the lock pick. When his fingers brushed against the familiar leather pouch he nodded to himself and headed for the school grounds. He walked over the football field where the school janitor had died and found someone he didn't expect.
There in the centre of the court was Ben. The boy stood as if he was cut from stone. He was tall. So much taller than the last time Dean had seen him. A light smile flittered over his face. He started with soft, casual steps towards the boy.
Ben jumped when he suddenly heard someone coming to a halt next to him. When he turned he saw someone he thought he would have never seen again. "Dean?"
Dean smiled and reached a hand up to ruffle the boy's hair. "Hey kid."
Ben allowed Dean to mess up his hair seeing as he was having trouble closing his mouth with surprise.
"What?" Dean shifted and touched his face. "I got something in my face?"
Ben grunted and looked away with a smile. He liked Dean. What he remembered and what he saw now was largely the same. Dean seemed so comforting. So light-hearted and naturally authoritative. "No. don't worry. Your face is fine." Dean narrowed his eyes at Ben's tone. "It's your style that's all wrong."
Dean broke in a smile and jabbed the kid on the arm. Ben grunted again and returned his thoughtful, brown eyes to the molehills in the ground. All humour left his face and Dean's slowly followed.
"This is where he died isn't it?" Dean asked insightfully.
Ben could barely answer. He felt his throat already tying up. He nodded and looked at the stupid molehills still humming with life. "The stupid gophers survived." His voice was thick and his eyes were already burning.
"Tough break."
Ben huffed, but didn't answer.
"Did you know him well?" Dean casually stepped closer and allowed his shoulder to brush against Ben's, offering the kid some unspoken support.
"Not really. Jus' liked him better than most of the kids at school, ya know?" Ben's voice was thick and deep with tears. The same tears that were slowly falling down his face.
From those deep, expressive eyes. "I'm sorry." Dean said as he stared at he boy that somehow was so much like him and still so different. So open.
Ben closed his eyes and his shoulders hitched once with a restrained sob. His hand flew to pinch the bridge of his eyes and to hide the tears showing there. Dean silently reached up and put his arm around the young man. Ben broke. His shoulders bobbed as a strangled sob forced its way out of his throat.
"It's alright." Dean's deep voice calmed him as he started rubbing in slow circles on the boy's back.
Ben leaned in to the comforting hold and allowed one more sob to escape. Dean held Ben in silence and allowed the boy to cry out his sadness. Dean knew there was nothing he could say that would make it better so he said nothing. Just held on.
Ben found Dean's accepting silence so soothing. So comforting. His mother would have fussed and bushed back his hair. She would have looked into his eyes and soaked up every broken feeling. But Dean just held on. He allowed Ben to break down without demanding anything from him. He allowed Ben the safety he had always longed for. The comfort from someone who knew exactly how you felt. Someone who felt it with you. His mother was sweet and empathic, but she would never know how Ben felt. How he really felt. Dean would if he didn't already.
He knew Ben felt guilty and heartbroken about not being able to save the janitor who was obviously a friend. Or perhaps not friend as much as a silent understanding between two strangers. Just like Dean and Ben had now.
Dean leaned his chin on Ben's head, unconsciously mimicking Ben's move with Kate earlier that morning, and whispered into the boy's ear. "We'll find who did this and kill 'em."
Ben found his centre and his solace with those words. He felt his guilt and sadness turn to something more useful. Anger. A little dwindling light flickering deep in his heart. A heat to keep him standing. To keep him going. To finish the job. He forcefully stopped the sobs and tears. Deep breaths were all that could be heard from him. When he finally felt composed enough he leaned away from Dean's soft hug and stared at the man who had always been his hero.
"I wanna come with you."
Dean saw an unexplained emotion flicker across Dean's face. It vanished in less than a second and turned to doubt. "I don't think your mother is cool with that idea, Ben." Dean's voice was genuinely regretful.
Ben swallowed and balanced his stance as if preparing for a fight. Dean noticed with a flicker or strange recognition. "She doesn't decide if I get to do this." Ben said in a firm voice.
Dean felt sadness and disappointment creep into his heart at what he was about to say. "If she says no so will I." Dean stared solemnly at the young man whose face fell a fraction.
"Then I'll do it alone."
Dean was about to argue, but was interrupted by Ben.
"I've done this kind of stuff before and I'm not letting that sonofabitch that did that to Kate, get away and hurt someone else."
Dean paled at how much Ben sounded like himself. He had the same conviction Dean had. The burning desire to keep people safe. To sacrifice his own life for others'. And suddenly Dean knew with horror how the kid's life would end up. He would start hunting if someone didn't stop him. And Dean's biggest regret was that he would have to do that.
"You're not coming with us, Ben. Sorry." He hardened his face and tried not to cry out when Ben's face fell like it did when Lisa slapped him.
It hardened seconds after as his determination set in. "Then I'll go without you. Take Keo and kill this thing. We already have everything we need."
"Not everything, kid." Den stepped closer and felt desperation tug at him for what he was doing to stop. For someone else to come in and do it for him. "You're and amateur. Last night you nearly got your friend killed." Dean stepped a little closer and saw Ben's eyes widen in fear. He begged to whoever was listening for the boy not to hate him forever. "Katie could have died. She could have been hurt in a thousand different ways."
"I didn't think of that-"
"No you didn't think! This is not a game and you and your little friends are nothing more dangerous than amateurs. And that's the most dangerous thing out there." He looked up and down the young man he would gladly have fought alongside with, with a look of contempt. "Amateurs." He spat the word out like a curse and saw Ben flinch and his face fall. Dean knew he had done it. He had broken what little will the boy had to fight. And Ben would never forgive him for it.
"You stay the hell away from this hunt. Me and Sam are on this and I'll be damned if I'm gonna let a couple of snot-nosed brats steal it from me…!" He hissed it out with the most poisonous voice he could muster and saw Ben take a step back.
Ben felt ice cold. Everything he had thought about Dean and Sam had just been turned upside down and inside out. The real insides of the two, brave hunters. The dark and cynical truth. They were no better than anybody else. The world was full of the same people. Cheaters and thieves. Greedy parasites trying to suck as much pleasure out of the world and the people around them before they died. Ben could feel tears threatening to spill again and turned on his heel.
He never saw Dean's face fall to one of complete heartbreak as he stormed off into the bright day.
Dean was left behind feeling more saddened than ever. He'd just had to break Ben's heart. Shatter everything the guy had ever thought of Dean and Sam. And the worst part of it all was that it was all lies. Dean watched the young man sprint out of there and leave the place of betrayal behind.
Ben sprinted through the lazy streets of the small town. He didn't want to go home just yet. He had already started packing before he left for the school. He intended to leave whether with Sam and Dean or alone. Although alone was definitely not the preferred option. As he sprinted down to the bus stop with angry tears in his eyes his mind focused more and more on what he had to do. He had to do what no one else seemed to want to. He had to save the people who couldn't save themselves. Now more than ever. He Dean had somehow thought his little speech would scare Ben into following through with his plans the experienced hunter had another thing coming.
Ben grabbed the bus and took the ride to simply relax and be in the moment. He needed to clear his head. So what if Dean and Sam weren't who Ben had thought all these years? So what if the two people he looked up to the most had turned out to be frauds just like everybody else? Ben would handle it. He still had friends willing to help him and back him up. Then Dean's previous words resurfaced and caused a whole new kind of dread to explode in Ben. What if something could have happened to them and it would have been Ben's fault? What if something would happen if he and Keo ever went hunting again? What if Keo got hurt because of Ben and this hunt? Ben felt all hope drain from his body as he realized the truly horrifying thought that he was as alone as Dean had so lovingly pointed out to him. How could Ben have been so wrong? Hadn't Dean been the one who had comforted Ben? It had seemed like Dean understood better than anyone else how it was possible to feel guilty for something you hadn't committed, but merely failed to stop.
Ben flinched when the bus screeched to a halt. This was his stop.
He walked from the bus while straightening his AC/DC shirt self-consciously. The house he was visiting was only a few feet from him now. It looked so small compared to all the others. The front yard was overgrown with daisies. Somehow it didn't look bad. It wasn't perfect-pretty like all the suburb gardens with their trimmed roses. Here the flowers had been allowed to grow freely. Wild roses had snuck in under the fence in the back and were intertwined with the hordes of daisies. Ben smiled sadly as he worked his way through the wild front yard. There was no pathway. Just a few bricks laid into the ground here and there. He huffed and smiled as he thought about the reason for their presence. Jonesy probably wanted to make the mail man work for his money.
He outright laughed as he remembered the man's sour look whenever he had mentioned his hatred for the demonic mail carriers from hell. Ben looked up and saw to his surprise a woman standing in the door. She was smiling too.
"Most people find our garden annoying." She tilted her head. "Not you though." She smiled.
Ben returned it full force as he made his way through the miniature jungle to greet the woman he was here to see. Mrs. Mills. Jonesy's wife. He was frankly surprised when he had learned about the grumpy, old man having a wife. And seeing her now didn't make the surprise any less. Jonesy had been tall and gangly. He'd always had a short temper. His hair had stuck out in grey wisps from his bony head. He had always been sharp. Quick witted. The woman in front of Ben was his exact opposite. She was small and round. Her radish grey hair fell in soft curls around her face like a bonnet. Her warm and slightly disorientated look was endearing. She looked like she wasn't all there. But with Jonesy not having been all there either Ben figured the two were a match made in heaven. He smiled sweetly at the little old lady.
"Hi I'm Ben Braeden."
She reached out her hand and grabbed his. "Elise Mills, how'd ya do."
Ben smiled and nodded as she waved him inside. He followed without apprehension and fear. He felt like he could trust the woman. She led him into the tiny living room. It looked like a remnant from the 1950'. Ben smiled as he thought about the old man sitting in the well worn lounge chair.
"The chair was one he bought from his old neighbour when he got his first check back in 1957 I think." She frowned as she tried to pin down the elusive memory.
"How long did you know him?" Ben walked over to a small table next to the easy chair and picked up an old picture frame.
"Since we were kids." She joined him and touched the faded and yellowed picture lovingly. "This was us." Two kids running through a field towards the one holding the camera. "I think that was taken on a Sunday…" She said thoughtfully.
Ben smiled at her and turned to face her fully. "You must have a great memory."
She smiled back. "Better than my husband's I'm afraid." She turned, heading for the kitchen. "Do you like tea?"
"Uhh, no that's fine." Ben smiled in decline.
The old woman smiled back wistfully. "Coffee it is then." She turned and left the room. Ben huffed and smiled at the sneaky, old lady.
He could almost imagine their marriage. How it might have seemed than he was the decision maker of the house, when he was really the one who needed her. He looked in the direction Elise had left. She seemed perfect for the now deceased school caretaker. His eyes saddened as he thought about how to tell her how sorry he was without making her cry. Without tearing open all the old wounds.
She returned with the same secretive smile. "My husband preferred coffee too. He said that tea wasn't good without sugar and that rotted your teeth." Her slightly worn voice sounded so sweet to Ben's eyes as he watched the little, old lady huffing over the weight of the 5 pound heavy coffee tray.
"Lemme help." He rushed forward and eased the tray away from her. She smiled and plumped down in her chair. The one sitting right next to Jonesy's old one.
He placed the tray down and looked up in time to see a tear crawl down the Elise's face. his face fell as he sat down on a small stool in front of her.
"I'm so sorry for your loss." He felt his eyes burn.
She stared at him as if she could see right through him. "I know you are, sweety. He talked about you." She smiled through the tears dripping down her face.
Ben's face fell in surprise. "He….-He did?"
She smiled a little bigger as more tears dripped from her bright eyes. "Usually he got your name wrong, but he remembered you. He told me about the one kid in school that he would have liked when he was younger." She chuckled softly and redirected her eyes to his tee shirt. "I think he liked you because of your good taste." She pointed to his shirt when Ben frowned.
"He liked AC/DC?" Ben asked surprised.
Elise nodded as another silent tear fell down her face. Ben found himself tearing up too. Damnit! He was supposed to be the one holding it together for her!
"He has at least a dozen of old records in the back. I never really liked them so I don't use them much." She wiped the tears from her face and smiled at Ben. "In fact I think he would have liked you to have them."
All her grief seemed momentarily forgotten. Ben tried to smile through the tears falling down his face. His breath hitched when she leaned over and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry you had to feel this way, kid." Her little voice shook again as she cried.
"I'm not." Ben did smile this time. "He was…." He thought of the words to sum up the weird man. Nice wasn't how he could be described. Emotional wasn't either. "He was fun." Ben said. By the look that suddenly lit up the old woman's face he figured she knew what he meant.
"Not intentionally though." She added with a laugh. "He was such a doofus sometimes." She chuckled and then started laughing in earnest. "You should have seen him on our wedding day." She was really laughing away, but somehow managed to keep on telling the story. "He was so nervous. Like he was marrying a complete stranger. He was a wreck!" She could hardly breathe with all her laughing.
Ben found himself smiling.
"He kept taking these little swigs of his pocket flask when he thought no one was lookin'." Her hoarse voice hitched with laughter. "But we all saw and he looked so cute trying to hide it." Her voice was squeaky with mirth.
Ben chuckled against the tears. "Most brides would have been pretty upset."
"Oh I was pissed!" She squinted as she fought through another laugh. And then she suddenly stilled. "And then he said the strangest thing. I knew he was drunk, but suddenly the haze seemed to lift and there he was. The man I was marrying and going to spend the rest of my life with." She looked at Ben with serious eyes and leaned more forward. Ben mimicked her move unconsciously.
"He looked at me like I'm looking at you right now and he asked: Will you still love me tomorrow?" She took a deep breath, but didn't take her eyes off Ben.
"What did you answer?" He asked in a sad voice.
"Forever and ever." Her voice drifted on the air as she relived the bittersweet memory. "In that moment he looked like he had just won a million dollars. Like he couldn't believe what had been given to him." She frowned almost in regret. "Like he couldn't believe that someone like me could ever love someone like him…."
Ben watched silently. He felt that she wasn't done and kept quiet.
"I tried to convince him that I did, every single day for the rest of our lives." Her voice still sounded like a forgotten memory being retold. "But I'm not sure he ever believed me."
Ben reached over and grabbed the old woman's hands in his. "He did." He said in a voice full of conviction.
Her face both fell and lifted in a strange expression of both joy and heartbreak. "Thank you, son." She leached up and hugged him close to her.
He hugged her back. She didn't cry or sob like he had with Dean. She just hugged him. Thanking him for coming. For sharing with her. He just kept quiet and let her. When she let him go she stared at him for a moment and stood up with great trouble. "C'mon let's get you those records." She said with a smile.
Ben left the house with a bag full of old rock albums. Elise hadn't just given him the AC/DC albums, but every other one in the room that she didn't like or know. He looked down in the back with wide eyes. He really needed to get a record player now. But stopped as the reality slammed into him. Where would he put it?
He was leaving Cicero. Leaving Indiana all together if he could get that far with his money. He hadn't told Keo or Katie. He didn't want them to know. It was better this way. They would be mad at him for leaving and too pissed to follow. He hiked up the albums and headed home.
His mother was out. A quick check of her schedule confirmed that she was busy with her afternoon yoga class. He hurried to his room and packed everything he thought he might need. He had two hunting knives. One stainless steel and one pure iron. He had thought about buying a gun, but knew how his mother felt about weapons in the house. Even the one she wouldn't have known about. So Ben had respected her wishes and kept from buying one. He did however still have a stake dipped in lamb's blood for killing of a certain trickster. He grabbed a few articles of clothes, underwear, his toothbrush and shampoo. A pair of old sneakers were stuffed into the bag along with the clothes. He also grabbed his books on the supernatural he had stolen from the library years earlier. He unplugged his computer and stuffed that into the second bag too. Most of his electronic equipment was left behind. He stared longingly at his DVD as he was about to leave the room. He sighed and stuffed his Mp3-player and phone in his pocket.
With one last glance at the bare room her shut the door and left his childhood home behind.