SORRY!
I didn't think I would get this busy, but holy crap. I finally found time to write and here is the next chapter.
Again, sorry.
Ben held his duffle in tightly in his hand as he waited for Sheriff Mills to pull up. Logan leaned against the wall, his arms were crossed and his expression troubled. Ben felt a pang of guilt at that. He really liked Logan and he's causing his foster father stress because he wants to know more about his dad and his dad's life.
All Logan knows is that some girl, who was recently with his dad, told Ben his dad is a monster, which sent him into an emotional tailspin, and the Sheriff is somehow involved. And now the Sheriff is whisking Ben away for a four-day weekend.
"Are you sure you want to go, Ben?" Logan asked for the millionth time.
Ben let out a small grin. "I'm sure, Logan," he assured the older man. "I'll be fine, and if I want to leave, I'll call you. I'll use the Sheriff's or Alex's phone."
Logan frowned at that. "Where's yours?"
Ah. "I, uh, I broke it," Ben admitted guiltily.
"You broke it," Logan repeated slowly. "Why did you break it?"
"Because I lost my temper after it crapped out on me."
"What were you doing that made you lose your temper?"
"Interrogating the Sheriff and Claire, the girl, about my dad," Ben told him in a small voice. Logan had his 'I'm very disappointed in you' face on, and it's so reminiscent of his mother's that Ben felt his breath catch in his throat.
Ben shrugged at Logan and shot him a sheepish look. Logan shook his head in mock despair and reached over to cuff Ben on the back of the head, grinning when Ben let out an indignant squawk and moved to fix his hair. He patted down to how he wanted it, shooting Logan a playful warning glare.
The Sheriff honked her horn, startling Ben and Logan out of their glare-off. Logan's worry came back and he asked Ben one last time if he was sure he wanted to go.
"I'll be back in four days, Logan, I promise," Ben assured him with a smile.
Logan huffed but nodded his head and opened the door for Ben. He watched as Ben tossed his bag into the back of the truck, waved when Ben did. He remained there until long after the truck disappeared out of sight, wondering if he did the right thing by letting Ben go with the Sheriff.
BW
The ride to the national park was quiet. Sheriff Mills kept her eyes on the road, and Ben knew better than to question her right now. He's gotten this treatment before from his mom and knew any question he could think of would not be answered until they were either far enough away where his mother felt comfortable enough to talk about it or she had cooled down enough to answer questions.
Ben's money is on the former. He hasn't done anything to piss off the Sheriff today that could cause her to withhold information on him.
He shifted to get comfortable and zoned out on the two-hour drive to the national park, his mind running over the information he knows about his dad and what his instincts are saying about him, and tried in vain to remember his dad's name. The Sheriff and Claire told him (numerous times, apparently) but Ben lost information before he even digested it. It left a peculiar feeling of loss. He hated it.
For years Ben has been trying to remember something of his dad but nothing ever stuck. Maybe if he quits thinking about his dad so much, something will come to him.
At least he hopes.
Ben stared out the window until the sun went down and all he could see was inky blackness. He lost track of how long they drove, he startled when she made an abrupt turn and turned off the car a mile down the road. He shot the Sheriff - Ben stifled a giggle, and a vague memory stirred before it dissipated - a confused look.
The Sheriff nodded for him to grab his stuff while she did the same. Ben complied, keeping his questions to himself for now.
They walked for what felt like hours before they arrived at a campsite with a lit fire. Ben stopped dead when he saw Claire sitting by the campfire, brooding, and he noticed that she held her bizarre sword grasped tightly in her dominant hand. The sight did not make Ben feel safe or better.
The Sheriff made a lot of noise to alert Claire to their presence.
Claire shot up to her feet, bringing her sword in defense, only relaxing when she saw the Sheriff. She shot Ben an unreadable look.
Ben looked away from her and took in the little campsite. He saw the family size tent pitched three feet to the west of the campfire, several bags lay near the tent, they piqued his curiosity but Ben ignored them. The site itself was way out of the way, probably one of the more remote campsites in the park. It made Ben wonder if the Sheriff brought them through a restricted access road to get here. He wouldn't put it past her. She seems to be willing to use her power as sheriff as she deems fit. He kind of liked that about her.
He wondered if his grandpa took his dad and uncle camping. Did he take them camping for fun or was it merely a training exercise?
Would the Sheriff know? Or Claire?
"Bed, now," the Sheriff ordered. "We have a lot to do tomorrow, and questions to answer," she added when she saw Ben open his mouth to caterwaul. "Right now I need to rest. I worked a double-shift so I could take the three day weekend off."
Ben looked around for a single-man tent. He found none.
"Am I sleeping with you guys?" Ben asked incredulously. No way! He's not going anywhere near Claire.
"Yes," the Sheriff responded tiredly. Tough. Ben ain't sleeping with Claire fucking Novak. "Man up, Winchester. I'm sleeping between you two."
She held up her finger when both Ben and Claire got ready to complain. "Aht! Bed. Now."
Ben huffed and plopped himself down next to the fire. He's not opening the tent, nor is he going to help out in any way. He knows he's being petty but dammit. He thinks he's earned a little pettiness these past few months.
Claire sneered at him and dumped a bucket of water on the fire to douse it. Ben glared right back, unbothered by loss of light.
The Sheriff sighed exasperatedly.
"Bed, Claire," she ordered firmly. She turned to Ben and said softly, "Don't stay up too late. We have a busy day tomorrow."
Ben ignored her and drew his knees up to his chest so he could wrap his arms around them. The Sheriff sighed again but didn't say anything. She reached over to mess with his hair but Ben dodged her touch, not wanting the contact.
He heard her walk away and zip up the tent to keep the bugs and wildlife out.
After what felt like an hour, Ben drew his gaze from the smoking fire pit to stare at the stars, maudlin. He's been feeling that a lot lately. He found comfort in stargazing. If he concentrated hard enough, he can hear his mom giggling to someone - he suspects it's his dad - and he can hear the answering rumble from a man, and he can feel the ghost of a hand ruffling up his hair before settling at the nape of his neck.
Wood smoke, leather, and gun oil are the strongest scents that bring forth a fuzzy memory of his dad. He can almost make a face sometimes.
Ben fell asleep and woke up to the smell of fire and bacon. His stomach rumbled loudly, waking up the rest of his body, especially the pains in his neck and back from sleeping on the ground with his back against a pine tree. His ass felt numb. He doesn't think he can stand up.
He peeked an eye to see the Sheriff and Claire tending to the food and coffee. He opened the other once he realized there was no spikes of pain from the too bright sun. A glance upward had him grinning in appreciation of Mother Nature and he even patted the tree trunk in thanks. The branches of pine needles mercifully blocked out majority of the sunlight. Small boons.
"Hey, sleepyhead," the Sheriff greeted in a disgustingly chipper voice. She must be using black magic of some sort to be that goddamn happy this early in the morning.
Ben grunted at her then promptly groaned when he moved his body.
Ow. Owowowowowow.
Won't be doing that again any time soon.
Nope. Nuh uh. His body has spoken and Ben is going to listen to it. It knows what's best for him.
Laughter has Ben opening his eyes, eyes he didn't even notice had closed, to see Claire sneering at him from her place by the camp fire. Ben sneered right back but refused to move. He wasn't lying when he said he was gong to listen to his body and its commands, and right now it's saying "Don't fucking move", and Ben is obeying.
"Hush, Claire," the Sheriff admonished with an exasperated eye roll. "Come eat, Ben," she added.
"Bring me the food or leave me alone," Ben replied with all seriousness. He's scared to move and wake up previously unknown stiff muscles.
Hell, moving his neck is proving to be a task worthy of Hercules.
He let out a pained groan and sunk further onto the ground so he was lying flat on his back. Hot needles stabbed throughout his body and his muscles threatened to cramp from the unexpected exertion. He forced himself to relax every muscle in his body . . . well, almost every muscle. There are a few that need to be kept tightly controlled, unless an accident should occur of humiliating proportions.
Claire would love that.
He can't believe he ever thought she was attractive.
He has a debt to her though, one he has to repay real fast because he doesn't want to feel like she has one over him. She saved him from one dog creature, that's it. Ben could easily repay that once he had the sufficient training.
Now that he's thinking of it, Ben doesn't think Claire has any more hunting experience than him, though Ben might have her beat on the knowledge front thanks to his dad's books.
The sound of something heavy being dropped right next to his head had Ben turning his head slightly to the right to see an ancient looking book that looked bigger than a Manhattan phone book. It had a beautifully yet creepily designed cover with gold gilding. He felt instantly drawn to it, and he can hear a faint voice whispering to him, though he suspects it's mostly in his head than any actual whispering.
"My dad gave you that book," is what Ben says instead of asking where Claire got it.
Claire's eyes widened in surprise before narrowing.
"How do you know that?"
"I just do," Ben replies, not knowing how to explain how he knows that. Call it instinct or common sense, but if Claire really did leave his dad not long ago, then he wouldn't have let her go without knowing how to protect herself should she choose to hunt. The sword she has won't be enough against some of the things that go bump in the night. And sometimes during the day as well.
Monsters. Monsters. Monsters everywhere!
Ben stifled a giggle.
The Sheriff shifted in her seat and asked, "Ben, I want to think real hard, how do you know your father gave Claire the book?"
"I just do," he shrugged in answer.
The Sheriff shared a look with Claire that had Ben huffing in annoyance. How do women know how to talk without talking? They just met! How can they possibly know what the other is thinking without one word being said? Not even half a word to give a hint. Is it only a girl thing?
Ben and his mom had a similar thing but that's because it would mean punishment (certain death) if Ben missed any of his mother's nonverbal cues. Would him and his dad have that as well? Does his dad and uncle have that nonverbal thing going on too? They would have to, right? He means, they're hunters, sometimes being quiet is the difference between life and death in their line of work. Like his dad raises an eyebrow at his uncle and wait for a count of three before attacking at the same time to take out some ghost or monster in perfect unison.
That sounds kind of badass. Ben wants that.
"Claire," the Sheriff admonished. "Tell Ben what you told me."
Claire scowled but obeyed and explained in a monotone. "Your dad gave it to me even after I tried to get him killed by these two people who said they'd kill him for me. I wanted him dead because he's the reason my family is gone."
Ben whipped his head towards her, ignoring the pain the move brought, and glared hotly, his face turning red as he tried to keep from losing his temper. His fingers curled into fists as his nails cut into his palms.
"But I didn't go through with it," Claire admitted, voice losing its cold edge. "I couldn't. Your dad understood and gave me the book to learn about hunting. He told me to come to Jody Mills, said she'd teach me all about hunting - that it was a safe place."
Ben's glare didn't soften. His mind still stuck on the fact that Claire tried to have his dad killed because she lashed out like a petulant child, ignoring the voice whispering that she may be justified in her misplaced rage. That doesn't excuse her. That's his dad. The only family - other than his uncle - he has left. She should understand that, of all people. She should understand that being alone is not fun, that having no one left is the worst feeling in the world; a loneliness you can never get rid of no matter what you do, and she almost inflicted that pain upon him.
The real and intense urge to hit her grew. His mom didn't raise him to hit women, and he suspects his dad taught him the same thing.
He settled for snarling at her, wishing he could sound as vicious as a pissed off wolf.
"Okay, children, that's enough," Sheriff Mills said in a bored tone. She threw a salted nut roll at him and pointed at the blue camping chair for him to sit in. Ben scowled at her but did as she instructed. He plopped down and surly ate the food she offered him; scrambled eggs, bacon, and sausage.
At Ben's less than happy look, the Sheriff astutely guessed why he was glaring at his plate.
"I forgot to bring potatoes to make hashbrowns."
"He's fine," Claire cut in. "The poor baby looks like he's going to cry because there's no hashbrowns."
"Claire," the Sheriff reprimanded. "Knock it off."
Claire stuck her tongue at him from behind the Sheriff's back. He retaliated by flipping her off when the Sheriff turned to shoot Claire a warning look. Claire's expression grew dark and she moved to get up and hit him, stopping when the Sheriff pushed her back into her seat.
"This is going to be a fun weekend," the Sheriff muttered sarcastically to herself as she took in the two dueling teens. "You are so going to owe me, Dean Winchester."
BW
Ben learned how to hold a gun, how to fire it (dry), how to clean it, and how to disassemble and reassemble it by the weekend's end. His fingers and shoulders were sore as fuck but he felt pleased with the aches. It felt like he was finally doing something worth while, something right.
She gave them lore books to learn from. She had a journal of her own, something she told them they'll need to start keeping should they choose to continue hunting. He didn't tell that he already had some.
Next weekend the Sheriff promised to take him and Claire to the shooting range to see how much they remembered and to see what she needed to have them brush up on for next time.
He's excited. He'll have to think of an excuse to tell Logan and Maria as to why he's all of a sudden spending all his free time and weekends with Sheriff Mills. He doesn't think they'll buy him saying he's hanging out with her because he wants to date Alex, and the only way to do that is to hang out with the Sheriff until he meets her standards.
Well, Maria might. Logan won't.
The ride back to town was quiet and tense. The Sheriff turned the music up in an attempt to drown out the growing animosity between the two teens. Claire and Ben are steadily making their way to truly hating each other, she needs that to nip that in the bud, especially if she needs them to work together in the future on a hunt. She can't allow it to grow unchecked.
Dean would never forgive her for letting his son get killed on her watch by the hand of a girl he sent to her to protect and train.
Ben literally bounced in his seat the closer they got to the Marks' house. It irked Claire but she was too tired to say anything about his apparent childishness. She merely jabbed him with her elbow for him to stop. He winced but otherwise ignored it.
He doesn't know why he's so excited to be back but he is. He'll have to make up a story as to what he did over the weekend. It can't very well be the truth. They'll send him away.
They pulled up to his foster parents house, Ben shouted a quick, "See you!" then bolted up the house. He waved at Maria and Logan when he ran past them to his room. He left the door open so they wouldn't think anything was wrong with him while he unpacked his duffle to gather all his dirty clothes. School tomorrow and he hardly has anything to wear.
Maria yelled at him that supper will be ready in ten minutes. Ben shouted back, "Okay!" He gathered up all his laundry and deposited them in washing machine and turned it on after pouring in his soap and downey. He used to hate doing laundry, now he doesn't trust anyone to wash is clothes.
Ben found Maria and Logan arguing over the latest episode of Person of Interest. Something about the Machine and it's bizarre bond with Root. Ben tuned them out because they already argued over the subject before, and there is only so many times a subject could be argued over before it comes to the point of insanity, though Ben thinks they may have already crossed that point four episodes ago. Ben still thinks the Machine has a soft spot (a secret one) for Reese.
Logan thinks that the Machine only cares about Finch. Maria says the bond with Root is stronger.
Until the finale, Ben is holding out hope that Reese is the one left standing. Him and Shaw. And Bear. Can't forget about Bear. Let the dog live!
Ben snorted and helped himself out to some casserole while his foster parents bickered over their favorite TV show. Thank god because it meant that Logan won't be able to grill him about his weekend with the Sheriff. He still hasn't thought of a story to tell. He really needs to work on his lying skills.
The funny thing is, Ben used to be a good at lying but ever since his "accident", he can't lie worth a damn. He remembers being able to lie to his mother's face without giving himself away, but after they had their memories messed with, Ben can't lie worth a damn.
It's like he here's a whisper in his mind, chastising him for trying to lie, and he gets flustered. He gives himself away because he flushes from guilt and stumbles over his words.
He thinks his dad's the reason why he can't lie.
Which sucks. Especially if he wants to be a hunter.
It seems part and parcel to be a convincing liar as well as being a detective, of a sorts. Or at least that's how the Sheriff is teaching him and Claire. Ben can see that, judging by his old hunting journals his dad undoubtedly made him keep, that seeing clues no one else does is a requirement. A skill he's going to have to hone.
Does that mean Ben's going to have to shadow the Sheriff to learn these skills?
...With Claire?
That's going to be fun.
Please, God, don't be a dick and make him shadow the Sheriff with Claire.