It's the bottom of the 9th, no one on base, and it's two outs. His Little League team are tied with their long time rivals, the Pirates, and if Ben hits a homerun, they win, and he has to hit the homerun because Mitchy Clarke is after him and he can't hit the broadside of a barn. It's all on Ben's shoulders.

His mom is cheering loudly from the bleachers, warmth shoots through him at the sound of her voice, but it doesn't take away the nerves. Not until a deeper voice on his right speaks up. He turns to see his dad smiling encouragingly at him, his voice barely louder than his speaking one. Drawing him in, forcing him to listen closely.

"Breathe, Ben. You can do this. You have done this. This is easy for you. Don't think. Breathe, and swing," his dad told him.

His dad is wearing his team's baseball shirt, the one Ben got for his dad as a present. It has Ben's number on it, number 13. He's even wearing their team's baseball hat. His dad has the biggest smile on his face, his green eyes seem to dance with utter delight at being here with him, watching Ben's team fight for their place in the championship game.

He can do this.

Readjusting his grip, Ben crouched lower and waited for his pitch. He knows Richard Meisner favors the high fastball, and if Ben can get him to throw a slider, a pitch he can hit with ease, Ben can send it over the fence.

Ball one.

He'll have to switch it up after the second or third bad pitch. For once, Ben is happy he hasn't hit his growth spurt just yet.

Ball two.

One more than please change up.

Ball three, and a time out.

Ben relaxes out os his stance and takes a couple of practice swings as the Pirates Coach and catcher talk to Meisner, telling Meisner he needs to change it up. Please no curve balls. They quit talking and Ben enters the box again.

"Breathe and don't think," his dad says.

Taking a deep breath, Ben swings, and he felt the ball hit the top of his bat, sending it straight up into the air. He said a quick prayer that the catcher doesn't catch it. He twisted around to see Carlos Rhett stretch out to catch the foul ball, only for it to bounce off the tip of his glove.

Oh, thank God.

A smile graces his face. Got you, Meisner.

Meisner winds up and throws a slider. Ben counted one heartbeat and swung as hard as he can. The crack of the ball off the wooden bat had Ben grinning broadly as he started his run to first base, his eyes on the ball, just waiting to see if the ball is fair or foul, and the second it bounced off the tip of the far back fence, sending it back onto the ground; Ben put the pedal to the metal. He ran as fast as he can, making sure he touched the bases as he ran.

"Go!" his dad yelled.

Ben kept running, he can't hear anything else but his dad shouting encouragement and his mom's ecstatic screams for him to keep going.

Rounding third base, and receiving the go-ahead, Ben narrowed his gaze to home plate. Pumping his legs as fast as he can, Ben saw movement in his peripheral. Instinct took over and Ben dropped down into a slide in hopes that he'll beat the throw to Rhett.

And just as his foot reached the homeplate just as Rhett's glove is about to slam down on his foot -

Beep! Beep! Beep!

The alarm Krissy set for them to take their morning run, something that Ben had to strong arm her into doing as a way to keep fit in the first place, had Ben shooting up and accidentally kicking Krissy out of bed. Heart beating wildly in his chest.

"What the hell, Ben?" Krissy complained from the floor. She got up off the carpet and swung a pillow at her boyfriend in retaliation.

"Sorry," he mumbled. He scrubbed his face with both hands in hopes to wash away the dream. It's not even a bad dream but the fact that he dreamed about his mom and dad. Seeing his mom's face and hearing her voice again - it hurt. He had pushed all thoughts and memories of his mother away and focused on looking for his dad because it had been easier to deal with finding a wayward father than dealing with the loss of his mom. She was all he had for years and then she was gone. In less than a heartbeat. She was gone.

"I dreamed about my parents," he said in a neutral tone. "A good one. It was my Little League team's fight for the championship. We had to beat the Pirates in the semi-finals. I woke up just as I was sliding home."

Krissy stared at him with a look he couldn't make out.

"Then why do you look like you watched your cat get run over?"

Ben sighed. "I miss my mom," he admitted in a small voice.

Her expression changed into something sympathetic and she crawled back onto the bed to wrap Ben up in her arms while he fought to keep the tears at bay, but it's a losing battle and Ben gave in and sobbed out all the grief he kept ignoring.

He missed his dad, yes, but he wasn't the one that raised Ben.

"Do you - Do you remember what your dad looked like?" Krissy asked tentatively.

"What?"

"Do you remember what your dad looks like?"

Ben shook his head then stopped. Did he? "No," he answered. Not really, he thought. I felt brave with him, and I remember him being so damn happy to watch me play baseball. I remember how proud he was when I presented him with the team jersey my mom helped me get for him. He teared up and had to take a minute but when he came back, he scooped me up like I was a little kid and held me tight against his chest. He never took the jersey that entire summer.

I can't remember his face but I can remember his smile and his laugh. I remember he loved me and my mom.

He doesn't say any of that. Just leaves it at no. He can't share this with Krissy. He can't. It's too personal, unknowingly echoing his father's thoughts of sharing something of that nature with his uncle. He's not sharing that part of his past. Too precious.

"We should go," Ben said instead. "We need to go. I can't stay here anymore, Krissy. I feel like I'm going crazy. I need to kill something." He got out of bed and went to go get showered and changed. "I mean it. I'm tired of hiding, and I'm tired of just waiting for Lucifer or Amara to find me. Us hiding will only work for so long. God's sister and favored son will find me."

He turned to look at Krissy and saw her face pale at his words.

"When I get out of the shower, we're leaving," he said, and when he finished with the shower, he found Krissy still sitting on the bed in her nightclothes. Their stuff wasn't packed and she wasn't looking at him. Fighting back a shiver of foreboding, Ben packed up all his stuff, hoping it would kickstart Krissy into packing as well, and when she didn't move a muscle, Ben knew this wasn't going to end well.

"We can't go, Ben," she said as soon as he finished packing. She tucked her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "It's too dangerous."

Ben felt annoyance flair up. He's just so damn tired of running and being in the dark. He can't do this anymore. Ever since he woke up from his dream, he's felt off. Restless. And just so fucking tired of everything. He's hit his limit. He wants to go home, dammit! With Krissy. He wants them to have a home where they're safe and with someone who knows about the hidden creatures of myth and legend. Someone who can teach them and protect them until they're ready to deal with it on their own.

He doesn't care if it's Jody or his dad. He just wants a home for them, but if Krissy won't help him, then so be it. He'll deal with this and find her later.

Or...

"Jody Mills. She lives in Sioux Falls. She's the sheriff. Go to her and she'll help you out and keep you safe until I return," Ben told her. He grabbed his bag and walked out the door without looking back because he knew if he did, his resolve would leave him and he'd stay and not know anything that's been going on.

"I love you," he said just before the door shut and he walked away.

BW

Sam stared at his brother out the corner of his eye, trying to observe without being obvious about it. He's worried, okay? Dean's breakdown the other day...It scared him. Dean hasn't been right since that day. He's more quiet. Apathetic. Listless. And it doesn't help that Cas refused to eject Lucifer, and Amara showed up and took him.

His brother looks defeated. Far more than he ever did during the Apocalypse.

He won't talk to him. Dean barely even looks at him. He just drinks and drinks and drinks. Sam has to practically force feed him so he'd have something in his stomach to help soak up all the alcohol.

They need a win. Fast.

Sam can't do this on his own anymore. Last time they were this bad, Sam had Cas to back him up, and Cas wasn't there to make sure Dean didn't go off the reservation like they thought he did after the Whore of Babylon thing way back when, and Sam knows the best way to pull Dean back from the edge. It's just a matter if he'll actually go through with it.

He hates himself for thinking of it but he's getting desperate. They - He - needs Ben. Ben is the only person in existence who can keep Dean from Amara's thrall. Paternal instinct has to be stronger than whatever it is that binds them.

Despite what Dean may think, Sam has seen what paternal instinct can overcome, and just how far a father will go to protect his kids. He saw it with Dad, when Dean ended up in a coma after being tortured by their father who possessed by Azazel, the demon that killed their mom. Dad overcame Azazel's possession to protect Dean, and their dad sold his soul to that very demon that tried to kill his oldest son not hours earlier. Imagine what Dean'll do to protect his only child.

And Sam offically is the worst uncle in the history of uncles. He's thinking of putting his only nephew in potential danger to save his brother and subsequently the world, but if he goes through with the plan, Dean will never forgive him. He wouldn't want Dean to forgive him.

Picking up his phone, Sam made the call, and after talking to a very rambling and apologetic Jody, he immediately hung up and clasped his hands together, like he was saying a prayer, and he kind of was. He has to tell Dean. He has to. This isn't something that can be swept under the rug, but he has no idea how to tell Dean. Does he just say it and hope for the best? Does he make Dean something he likes - that he loves, and break the news that way?

Does it really matter because either way Dean'll feel betrayed?

Fuck.

Dean came out of his room with his headphones on. Sam had an intense internal debate about what to do when his hand shot out and flicked the pen he'd been chewing on soared across the room and hit Dean in the shoulder. Sam stared at his hand in betrayal. What the-?

"What?" Dean demanded as he rubbed his shoulder. He bent down to grab the pen and threw it back, hitting Sam square between the eyes. "Speak, Sasquatch," and Sam saw a glimpse of the old Dean in that remark, despite having tears from the hit, which ow. That hurt.

Son of a bitch. This just got harder.

Sam opened his mouth to say nevermind but what came out was, "Jody, Claire, and Alex lost Ben. He'd been living in Sioux Falls with them for almost a year before he got taken on a hunt by Jo. Our Jo. Ellen's Jo. That Jo."

He actually slapped a hand over his mouth in belation to the word vomit he just spouted and stared at Dean with wide, panicked eyes.

"I figured," is all Dean says before putting his earbuds back in and continuing his trek to the kitchen for a snack.

Wait, what? "What?" Sam said to an empty room then yelled, "Dean! What do you mean, 'I figured?'" He ran after his older brother to find him making a sandwich stacked high enough to be considered a Scooby sandwich. "Dean!" he yelled again, yanking out his older brother's earbud.

"Ben wrote me a letter. He alluded to an ally of mine, and of people who know about hunting and who started teaching him about hunting. There's not a lot of people out there who are our allies, let alone people who hunt or at least know about hunting, Sam. It's a very small list and there is only one person who hunts occasionally, and someone we sent a budding hunter to go live with," Dean pointed out. "It doesn't take a genuis to figure out, College Boy."

"Why aren't you mad? Betrayed? Hurt?" The questions left before Sam could stop them. This time he slapped himself in the face then mumbled. "You don't have to answer them."

Dean grunted. He smushed the sandwich down so he could stuff it into his mouth.

"Right now I don't care. Maybe when we've dealt with this whole Amara-Lucifer situation, I'll let myself deal with it but not right now. I just want my son back." He tilted his head up and shouted, "You keep him safe, Jo! Don't you dare let anything happen to him or I swear your afterlife will be hell. I will find a way to bring Hell to your Heaven!"

He nodded at Sam then walked back to his room, closing the door behind him.

Sam stared after his brother, his equilibrium completely shot, and he's not sure what he needs to do to find his balance again. He thought Dean was going to go off, to show some type of emotion and let Sam know his brother isn't completely gone. Instead his brother takes it all in stride and barely quirks an eyebrow at the information that when they went to go help Claire with her vampire problem, none of those women told them about Ben, who is not only missing but that he had lived there for almost a year.

His yell at Jo? The volume was there but not the emotion.

His brother should have let out a screech of rage and betrayal instead of nonchalance and an obligatory threat to the dead.

Wait. Letter? From Ben? Why didn't Dean tell him about that? Is that - Is that when Dean had that breakdown? Did Dean read Ben's letter and just fall apart? What the hell did Ben write?

So many questions. Hell, so many problems.

"Cas, man, I need your help," Sam spoke aloud to an empty room. He tried not to think too hard about the implication of him being on his own. He did, he tried, but silence surrounded him, forcing to think of just that.

"We need a win." Again only silence answered him. "Cas. God. Someone. Help. Please, help."