I actually had this done last week but I was busy af. I hope y'all like it! ...and sorry again for wait.

He's writing in a journal, a leather bound journal. It looks pretty pricey. He must know this because he's taking care with his penmanship as he jots down a paragraph from a creepy looking mythology book. There's a carefully pasted picture of a wendigo next to the paragraph he's copying down. He can hear his parents talking downstairs while they were making breakfast, dad is most likely making his mom's favorite healthy "omelet" before she heads off to work.

Once she's gone, his dad will make them his famous meatlover's breakfast, sunnyside up eggs for his dad, and scrambled eggs for Ben. If his dad is feeling ambitious, he'll also make either pancakes, waffles or french toast from scratch to go along with the bacon, sausage, and ham. Their plates will be piled high.

Mom usually disapproved of their breakfast, claiming all that fat will make them lethargic while they were at work/school. Ben can attest to the valerity of that statement, but damned if he'll admit it. He loves his dad's breakfast.

They'd eat and once they were done, his dad would drive him to school on his way to work.

It was routine.

Ben grinned at his dad, cheeks puffy from a mouthful of french toast, but he couldn't see him because of the light shining through the window, silhoetting his dad's face. He could see his dad smiling back, though. Or to be more specific, he can feel his dad smiling back at him, with the love and pride a parent has when looking at their child. Ben likes that smile coming from his dad, his mom, too, but coming from his dad has a . . . newer (?) feel to it.

"Hurry up, Ben," his dad's distorted urged him. "I need to pick up some supplies from the hardware store before I drop you off at school."

Ben nodded his head and started shoveling his food into his mouth, his dad copying him, sharing a private grin with each other at the thought of his mom finding them stuffing their mouths. She'd lecture them before whacking them upside the head in reproof to drive the point home.

They finish eating and dump their empty plates into the sink on their way out the door. Just as Ben crosses the threshold, a blinding light and a jarring noise has Ben flinging his hands over his ears and shutting his eyes as a voice boomed out:

Wake up, Ben Winchester, and remember.

Ben shoots up out of his bed and trips over the blankets tangled around his legs. He crashes onto the floor with a loud and painful thump, he bites his lip to keep from crying out in pain. It's been a month since his screaming incident, the Doctors told him not to talk at all for a month and a half, two if Ben feels like he's not up to speaking yet.

He's frankly terrified to even grunt. They told him he's lucky he didn't permanently damage his vocal chords. He had been put on vocal rest as treatment as well as some pills he can't pronounce and a shit-load of tea and honey.

He is so sick of tea. So, so, soooo sick of tea.

Logan came bursting through his door and tripped over Ben's prone form, sending him crashing on top of Ben's recently vacated bed. He bounced once before his momentum sent him crashing on the other side of the bed. Ben stifled a giggle when his foster father popped his head up from the other side of the bed like a jack-in-the-box, his hair all in disarray and face creased with worry as he crawled over Ben's bed to check on him for any injuries.

Once he was satisfied Ben is uninjured, he gave Ben a small smack upside his head for worrying him.

Ben and Logan developed a way to communicate without Ben needing to write or text anything. Funnily enough, it is what he'd been hoping to achieve with his biological father, but instead of using only facial expressions, they use their own sign language. Totally made up so Maria can't participate.

It wasn't on purpose, them excluding her, but she ended up working quite a bit these past few weeks. Ben knew she felt guilty about that. He had no idea how to absolve her of her guilt.

Maria came into the room, her face changing from concern to exasperation at finding Ben and Logan on the floor. She shook her head and walked out without saying a word, Ben's hoping it was so she could go start breakfast, and not back to bed.

Ben shoved Logan in retaliation to him smacking Ben in the head. They had a mini shoving contest until Logan ended it by sitting on Ben until Ben slapped Logan's leg in submission.

Logan did a little victory dance, laughing in triumph as Ben pouted on the floor, still wrapped in his blanket. Ben reached over and swiped Logan's foot out from underneath him, sending the older man crashing back on to the floor with a loud thump! that sounded painful even to Ben's ears. He rocketed up to his feet and took off to the relative safety of the kitchen where it had numerous exit routes.

Maria was indeed making breakfast, Ben ran to hide - cower, if he's being honest - behind her. Logan came barrreling down the hall, skidding to a stop when he spotted Ben hiding (cowering) behind Maria. He grinned evilly.

Ben gulped.

"Don't. Even. Think about it," Maria ordered in a warning tone that promised pain if disobeyed, she didn't even looked up from the stove. "Sit." She pointed at their designated chairs without looking. They meekly did as told. "No wrestling or fighting, boys."

"Yes, my love," Logan muttered, and sat down, keeping his eyes on the table.

Ben nodded towards her, and followed Logan's lead by keeping his head down.

They remained like that until Maria deposited their food in front of them. Ben's usual breakfast looked a little more goopy than normal. Definite lumps rose out of the pouridge like dunes in the sand. It didn't look very appetizing.

Logan's didn't look any better. Burnt eggs, bacon, eggs and hasbrowns. Smelled disgusting, and looked like something a phoenix threw up.

His lumpy poridge is looking better and better the longer he stares at Logan's so-called breakfast.

Judging by the look Logan is giving his food, he thinks the same thing. Suddenly concerned about his breakfast, Ben started shoveling his food into his mouth, grimacing slightly at the bland (so bland) taste. He added cinnamon and a healthy spoonful of sugar, it became a little more palatable. And when he looked up, he saw Logan shooting him death glares as he attempted to find some not-so burnt pieces to eat.

Ben hid a smirk as he continued eating his food.

Maria took her time eating her rather delicious looking Denver omelet and strawberry pancakes that had Ben's mouth watering. He has to hand it to his foster mother, she's damn good at passive aggressiveness. She wins this time around.

"Oh, Ben," Maria remembered, "Jody called and said she's taking the girls out for dinner tonight and that she said the house is open if you want to go over or something." She hesitated before asking, "What do you do over there? Why do you like going over there? And don't tell me it's because of Alex either. I know you're not interested in her."

Ben stared at her long enough for Maria to start fidgeting uncomfortably but she held his gaze stubbornly.

Damn. He had been hoping that would work, hoping that she would drop it and leave it be, but apparently Maria has had enough with his half-assed lies. He looked to Logan to see if he had any help there, his foster father stared back at him expectantly. Double damn.

So instead of writing down his pseudo-lies, Ben pointed at his throat, shrugged, and shot her a regretful face. She huffed while Logan snorted into his burnt breakfast.

"Smooth, kid," Logan complimented. "But don't think that excuse is going to last forever."

Ben shrugged at him in response and got up to clean his bowl before going upstairs to shower and get ready. He waved to Maria and Logan when he left for the Sheriff's house. Knowing the Sheriff, she probably has a worksheet ready for him to complete before she gets home, and it will be hard. Ben does wonder if she had Claire do something similar, of if that the one she did was harder than the one most likely awaiting for him at the house.

He has so much homework now, he no longer has the urge to just drive; he's too exhausted after the day's end. It helped that Maria and Logan have been babying him since the Nightmare-They-Shall-Not-Speak-About, and took him out-and-about until he fell asleep in the car.

Like a baby really. If he wasn't so tired he'd say something about it but the gentle rocking of the car and the quiet murmurs of his foster parents lull him to sleep without fail every time they do this.

Nightmares do not mar his sleep and he gets a full night's rest. It was something Ben's doctor recommended to keep him from further damaging his vocal chords, Maria and Logan took it as gospel and drive him around until he crashes, then Logan carries him into the house and up to his room to gently deposit him onto his bed.

So, Ben guesses being treated like a baby is not completely a bad thing. He gets carried to bed every night like royalty.

Ben turns onto Spencer Avenue, the Sheriff's street, and waves to the Gauthier's when he cycles passed, amused to see them still tending to their dying garden. They are the most stubborn people Ben has ever met, he admires that about them. They're waging a losing war against fall. The cold weather killing the grass and flowers, like it always does, but the Gauthier's, they ain't giving up this battle without one hell of a fight.

He parks his bike against the Sheriff's porch, vaulting over the railing to land next to a potted plant where he dug out the spare key to unlock the Sheriff's door. He took off his shoes before walking into the living room because he has manners (and because the Sheriff yelled at him enough for not taking his shoes off before entering a house).

Sure as shit, Ben found a folder with his name on it. Heaving a sigh, he opened the folder to find some worksheets the Sheriff made up, as well as some essay questions. He is not looking forward to those.

Ben decided to do the short answer questions first before doing the essay ones.

Two hours fly by and his hand is cramping up like a mother. He wishes the Sheriff would let him type up the damn answers instead of writing them, but no, the Sheriff has him and Claire going old school with their homework. It's bad enough she confiscated the books Ben's father gave him before his memory got wonky, she has him doing everything by hand. He bets his dad would have let him type up his damn homework, at the very least.

15) Is it best to allow one demon (on it's own with no civilians) to go free than it is for a poltergeist to kill an entire family that's residing in its house?

Ben absolutely hates these ethic questions.

They give him headaches. Borderline migraines. Claire makes fun of him when he gets headaches while answering those questions, like she's one to talk. Ben sees her palm an advil when she thinks he's not looking.

Alex and the Sheriff are the only ones who can laugh at them because they are evil. And mean. ...And they don't have to do these damn questions.

Ben does wonder every now and then if the Sheriff is punishing him for something his dad did. It wouldn't exactly be that much of a stretch. If the way she sighs when she says his name when he does something he shouldn't be doing (pranking Claire with super glue was a one time thing, honestly) or if he didn't excel well enough school to her liking, she'd sigh loudly and explosively. It'd make him duck his head but he would hold her gaze defiantly.

She'd sigh again and then make him do these godawful ethic questions as (punishment) another part of his learning process. The Sheriff must really be mad at his dad to subject him to these . . . questions that are supposedly geared to prepare him for any future confrontation.

Ben seriously doubts that scenario would ever happen but he'd really like to go on his first hunt with Claire and the Sheriff this weekend, so that means he has to do his damn homework before the Sheriff returns from her night out with Alex and Claire. He bets Claire didn't even start hers yet. It's not fair that she gets to play hooky from "Hunting School" while Ben has to spend his one free night from real school homework to do hunthing homework.

At least he gets to read the hunting books his father left him without being disturbed. Claire likes to bug him whenever the Sheriff allows him to read those particular books.

She's really mean like that.

And buggy.

And kinda . . . okay, maybe sort of . . . pretty. Okay, a lot pretty.

Claire's attractive, okay?

He hates that he has to acknowledge that. He hates that he noticed her attractiveness, but granted, he noticed that on their first night together. So . . . so. Yeah, Ben doesn't really want to continue this particular line of thought, thank you very much. He'd rather read his father's books.

Good God, he really is a nerd.

Ben quickly finished his ethics questions, dealt with his headache by downing a few pain pills, made himself a sandwich so he could read without being distracted by normal body functions like hunger, and made himself comfortable on Claire's favorite recliner, making sure to leave as much crumbs as he could on the seat. That'll bug the shit out of her when she gets home. He should leave a little note for her later.

Nah. She'll know it was him.

Me and Amysm (Ben thinks that his uncle's name. He can't read it because that would be too easy for him to remember that side of his family.) took down a pixie colony with a flamethrower we MacGyvered and an iron net we stole from a fishing boat. The flames were actually quite pretty. Ysmam (Really? It's not even misspelled the same way as before.) full on fangirled over them and took pictures to show dad. Dork. -DW

Ben smiled widely and felt a warmth settle in his chest. This is the real reason why he likes to read his dad's books so much. His dad left little anecdotes every now and then. It makes him feel like he knows his dad, like his dad is talking to him through these books, wanting Ben to remember him. Or that's just Ben's wishful thinking. Either way, the books are fun to read.

Dad called us idiots but gave us a small, approving smile. He even let us order pizza for supper. Yes! Something not microwaved or heated up on the crappy hotel stove that likes to shock me whenever it damn well feels like it. -DW

Then again. There are this little bits that remind Ben his dad had it rough growing up hunting. It reminds him he might want to rethink hunting full time.

The theory Alex, Claire and the Sheriff have is that Ben's dad wanted him to forget so he wouldn't become a hunter. If so, his dad failed wickedly. Like majorly, seriously, devastatingly so. Because that's all Ben wants to do now.

Ah yes, Changelings. Hate 'em. Tricky, vicious little bastards. Their "parents" are just as bad. Used another flamethrower to get rid of them. It's always creepy killing something that looks like kids. -DW

Ben felt his brain twinge at the word "changeling" but otherwise ignored it. He'd rather not zone out again and worry the Sheriff like last time a word triggered his . . . catatonia? Honestly, Ben doesn't know what it's called but sometimes a word makes his brain go fuzzy and staticky-like and he loses time for a bit. Claire slapped him last time to pull him out of it.

He could have sworn he saw a flash of worry on her face before she sneered at him in condescension. That also could be wishful thinking on his part.

And if Ben's completely honest, he only reads his dad's little anecdotes instead of the chapters themselves. His dad's stories are better anyway. Sometimes his uncle or grandfather write something in the margins too, but only sometimes. They usually correct his dad's account by being "accurate" with the storytelling.

He likes those ones the best.

We totally took on a lake monster. It doesn't have a name yet so I'm calling dibs on naming it. So ha! Masmy. -DW

It has a name, Ndae. It's called the Ratashaar. -SW

Bite me, Asm. Whatever. We killed it by fire and then we roasted marshmallows while dad looked up another hunt. I am sensing a theme going on with our hunts. Fire is awesome! -DW

You're gonna jinx us. -SW

Shut up. Go stargaze or something, princess. -DW

I will and when I discover a new planet, I'm gonna name it Planet Awesome and you won't be allowed to go visit because you're a jerk. -SW

Bitch. -DW

Ben bit his lip to keep from smiling dopily. These are the little writings he likes to find. He knows there's one where his grandfather wrote something down.

A quick flip through the pages, Ben found his grandfather's neat handwriting in the upper right corner.

Enda and Msa found a badger den while we were looking for a skinwalker cave. I wanted to tell them the dangers of the den but I know Ndea would just roll his eyes at me and tell me I'm a worrywart and Sma would nod his head in agreement. So I sat back and watched the show. I've never seen my boys run so fast in my life. After they screamed so loud I thought they somehow got turned into girls when I wasn't looking.

I've never laughed so hard. Ah, the joys of parenthood. -JW

Ben let out a silent chuckle and bookmarked that page to read when he's feeling down. That's a good one. His grandfather's additions are rare and precious. He wonders if his dad had a hard time giving these books to Ben to study. Or maybe his dad gave it to him as a family heirloom.

Note to any future Winchester generations: Badgers are mean S. . -JW

Like really mean. Beware! -DW

He snorted at that. His dad is a dork.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway pulled Ben out of his little bubble he made reading his dad's books. A glance at the time revealed it was now 10. Oh, boy. He meant to be gone before the Sheriff and the others came home. He doesn't want any motherhenning from the Sheriff or any looks from Claire and Alex.

Though Claire has been incredibly nice to him this past month. That might be the only good thing to come out of Ben damn near shredding his throat permanently from screaming for so long. Even Alex refrained from rolling her eyes at him for wanting to be a hunter.

He bet she sprained something to keep from doing so. She really loves rolling her eyes at him and Claire.

Ben debated with himself before settling on continuing reading his book.

Asm says I should buy a journal so I wouldn't be scribbling in our books. I told him if he wanted a journal all he wanted to do was ask. I bought him a Princess Pony journal. He huffed in faux annoyance before punching me in the shoulder.

Shh. Don't tell anyone but the little princess can pack a punch nowadays. That hurt. I'm gonna get him back. You'll see. It'll be marvelous! . . . Forget I wrote that last part. I really shouldn't write in pen. -DW

"Hey, Ben," the Sheriff greeted when she walked through the door. Ben lifted his hand in greeting and pointedly ignored Alex and Claire.

"How was your day?" the Sheriff asked as she lugged groceries into the kitchen. Ben got up to help, carefully placing his book on the coffee table.

He gave the OK sign. He started helping put the groceries away while Alex and Claire lugged in more bags, some were clothes and other miscellany that bought on their "Girls Night Out" expedition. Ben stayed clear of the Victoria's Secret bags and the Bath & Body Works ones. He doesn't need to be traumatized like last time (skimpy underwear he's not all too sure were Alex and/or Claire's) nor does he need to be sprayed with Pink Chiffon perfume. Logan gave him a look when he came home smelling so pretty.

Ben had flushed and shook his head at the older man. He showered but the smell lingered. He can't really say he didn't like the smell because he did but he is grateful Claire sprayed him with it on the weekend. He has no idea what he would have told the other students if he came to school smelling like that.

Claire shoulder checked him when she walked passed him on her way to her room. Ben huffed and threw a wadded up plastic bag at her, grinning when it hit her on the back of the head. Claire whipped around, her hand digging into her Bath & Body Works bag, withdrawing a familiar pink bottle.

Oh no.

Ben blanched and quickly started back pedaling but Alex wrapped her arms around him to trap him. He shot a beseeching look to the Sheriff but she merely watched with an amused smile as she continued putting the groceries away.

The familiar sweet smell of Pink Chiffon assaulted his senses. He hung his head in defeat and braced himself to smell like a girl for the next couple of days. Logan just got over him smelling like a girl from the last time. At this rate, Logan is going to start asking some pointed questions about his sexuality pretty soon, and Ben is going to have to admit being pushed around by a couple of girls he has forty pounds on.

He doesn't know what's worse.

Ugh. The mist of perfume hit him. His clothes were practically dripping with it by the time she was done spraying him with it, and to add insult to injury, Claire also rubbed the matching lotion into his skin to deepen the smell and make it last longer. He felt Alex laugh, her warm breath hitting the back of his neck.

He's so getting them back for this.

Claire rubbed some more lotion into his skin, making sure to get him around his neck and chest. He blushed when she ran her hands under his shirt to make his humiliation complete, his skin burned hot wherever she ran her hands up and down his upper and lower back. Her breath hitting his exposed neck when she stepped in close to get the lotion on his back made him bite back a moan.

Feeling Alex's breath hit the back of his neck and Claire's hitting the front, their body heat surrounding him, and with Claire rubbing her lotioned hands all over his torso, Ben is really glad he wore baggy pants today. He's terrified to look in the Sheriff's direction.

"There," Claire said, her voice light in triumph. She grinned at him before flouncing away to her room.

Alex chuckled and squeezed him tightly before letting him go. She slapped him on the ass to further deepen his humiliation.

Girls are evil. Really, really, really evil.

Alex wiggled her fingers at him before she went into her room, shutting the door with a quiet laugh. He's pretty sure the sound of the door shutting sounded amused as well. The damn door is laughing at him, because why not? He just got manhandled by two girls.

"I guess it's a good thing you're riding your bike home, hmm?" the Sheriff said, amusement coloring her voice. "It'll air you out."

Ben shot her an unamused look, his face still flushed from his manhandling, and he just wants to go home before any further embarrassment should occur. Of course the Sheriff would be on their side. Girls always stick up for each other, even against the men - he's calling himself a man because he can, so there! - they bully. Ben needs to get make more male friends. Some guys-guys. Manly men who won't spray him with perfume.

Perfume that smells quite nice.

No! Don't go there Ben, he told himself. Once Claire finds out he likes the smell, she won't stop. He'll be forever branded as the Perfume Guy, and he doesn't want his last two years of school to be labeled as that horrible moniker. He'll want to date eventually. Date women that is. Women.

If he gets labeled the Perfume Guy, the people wanting to date him won't be women. And he has no idea how to turn down a guy without either getting punched or sounding like a complete asshole.

The sound of the Sheriff snorting with barely repressed laughter has Ben blushing once more, and he just got rid of his earlier blush. Fan-friggin'-tastic. He stomped over to the counter and stole a bag of Hot Cheetos and a bag of assorted chocolates. When the Sheriff opened her mouth to yell at him, he glared at her and made a point of gesturing towards his body.

"Oh, fine," the Sheriff sighed. "Take it."

Ben made to grab his dad's book. The Sheriff pursed her lips but didn't stop him. He gave her an incredulous look but otherwise didn't call her on it, stuffing the book along his pilfered Hot Cheetos and chocolates in a plastic bag.

He waved bye and took off before the Sheriff came to her senses and took the book back.

He never pedaled so fast before in his life. Good thing too, the smell of Pink Chiffon faded back to a more semi-manageable level. He still got a look from Logan and an amused grin from Maria. He pointed his finger at Logan, shooting him a warning look, silently telling him not to say anything about his current state.

Logan smirked in reply.

His foster father won't let him live this down. Damn Claire. Damn Alex. And damn the Sheriff too. They're all to blame.

Half an hour later, he gets a text from Claire: "You're gonna pay for getting crumbs on my chair"

Ben grinned and snapped a selfie of him smirking and sent it to her. She sent back one of her glaring, and another of her holding a bottle of Oahu body spray. A third revealed Alex also holding a bottle of matching lotion, they're both smirking nastily at the camera. Ben felt a shiver of something not entirely unpleasant crawl down his spine at the thought of being manhandled by them again.

The memory of Claire's hands touching his body sent a bolt of arousal to his groin, his mind conjured up the feeling of Alex's breath hitting the back of his neck to help his body decide whether or not he liked the feeling of being squished between two attractive females. His body decided he liked it and felt himself grow hard.

No.

Nope.

Definitely not going there. Ben cast his mind to the memory of quite possibly finding the Sheriff's Victoria's Secret underwear when he last helped them unpack and felt any lingering feelings of arousal dissipate.

At least one good thing came out of that traumatizing incident. Ben shuddered at the memory.

"Hey, Princess!" Logan shouted up the stairs. "Dinner is in the oven if you're hungry."

As if waiting for those magic words, Ben's stomach gave an almighty growl. Ben patted his stomach and deliberately stomped down the stairs and into the kitchen, making sure to bang the cupboards and drawers after he was done using them. He even slammed the fridge door shut, causing the whole thing to rattle and bottles to clink violently against each other.

"Smartass," Logan called out from the living room.

Ben banged his cup against the counter in answer. Logan laughed and shushed Maria when it sounded like she was going to say something about his behavior.

He scarfed up his dinner of pork chops, fried potatoes and mixed veggies without breathing. He was that hungry. Ben licked his plate clean and dumped it in the sink, and made his way into the living room to flop across his foster parents. His head pillowed in Maria's lap, legs across Logan's. They watched National Geographic for a bit until Ben got shooed off for bed.

Maria came up later to check his throat before allowing him to fall into the Land of Nod.