Welcome back to Supernatural Sundays! Thank you all for your interest in this story, I'm so glad you enjoy it. Here is the second chapter.

A brief comment: those who've read "Once upon a Memory" (man, that story is old now!) know that I tend to have a rather fair view of John. As in, he made loads of mistakes, but he loved his children, and while he was stern to them, he wasn't as abusive as I've seen him written in more recent fics. I actually try hard not to let personal feelings lead me to bash any characters. Just so you know what you're getting into, since I'll explore John much more than I usually do in this story. By the way, the title of the story should have been "The Lost Ones" not "The Lost One"...ooops. Anyway, you can also find it uploaded every Sunday on my AO3 Star_Wanderer account shortly after I upload it here (it's with the correct title there).

Onwards to the second chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter 2

Benny lived alone in a bedsit on the edge of town. The area was quite different from the one where Arthur Croydon and his daughter lived. One of the reasons, Dean supposed, why the General did not enjoy the idea of Elizabeth cozying up to someone like Benny. For her, it would have been a serious downgrade.

At first, Benny wanted nothing to do with the two brothers.

"You're not Elizabeth's cousins," he said. "Elizabeth doesn't have any cousins."

Dean smiled disarmingly.

"Well, cousin is a term we use," he said. "The truth is, Lizzie and I were good friends. Almost like family."

Benny's eyes roamed from Dean to Sam. Dean had used the nickname Elizabeth's mother had used to call her – he had gotten it out of the General with some difficulty, as for some reason Croydon did not hold with nicknames. This had to give some credibility to the good friends angle, but Benny was still hesitating.

"You're much younger than her," he pointed out.

Dean shrugged.

"I'm older than I look," he said. "So is my brother. But when I said we were childhood family friends, I meant it. My dad served in her dad's unit."

Benny's mouth thinned.

"So, you're one of those?" he asked. "Military brats."

Dean snorted. That wasn't that far from the truth.

"Hey, that's not my fault, is it?" he pointed out reasonably. "It's not as if we can choose our parents, can we?"

Benny seemed to become more mollified at that. He stepped aside, allowing the brothers into his home.

"Let's talk then," he said.

He still eyed Sam suspiciously, but no longer commented on him being just a kid. Dean considered this a win.

xxxXXXxxxx

Benny had no desire to revisit the horrible events of the past few days. He also had no illusions. He knew Elizabeth was dead – she had to be, with all that had happened. If there had been any hope of her being alive, Benny would have done everything to make sure she got out safely. But there wasn't, and people were already either ridiculing him or calling him crazy. What was the point in remembering what had happened?

He would not have told Dean and Sam, either, especially since he did not trust them. They might have been friends of Elizabeth's, but they were part of the same world as General Croydon, and Benny had no business trusting that world. He also knew now that people that came from that world cared little about people like him.

Still, apparently Dean knew how to play his cards. Elizabeth had spoken highly of him, Dean said. Benny had no idea what to say about that, as the last days he and Elizabeth spent together had been fraught with tension.

"She told me her father had been right about me all along," Benny said. "That I had turned out to be a complete incompetent."

Dean nodded sympathetically.

"The problem is," Dean said, "Her old man thinks you're the one who got her killed. Or, at least lost. We don't know she's dead, do we?"

Benny closed his eyes, that last image of Elizabeth flashing into his mind. He clenched his fists. The nightmares would never stop, he was sure of that. He would always remember her as she had been at the end. He would always see what had happened to her, and the way he had run away, straight back into the desert, not caring if he was going to die out there of exposure, because if there was one thing for certain, it was that he would have preferred dying to ending up like Elizabeth.

He opened his eyes to meet Dean's steady gaze. He looked older, then. Confident and mature. And Benny thought that, whoever he was, he could trust him. And he so desperately needed someone to confide in after what had happened there in the desert.

"She's dead," he said harshly. "Or, if she isn't, she's as good as. After what happened to her…"

"What happened to her?" Sam asked. "There was a town, wasn't it? A deserted town?"

Benny jerked his head.

"Yeah. It shouldn't have been there. Lizzie said so. That was after she saw that thing."

"What thing?" Dean asked. "Did you see it too?"

Benny hesitated.

"I saw it when it had Elizabeth," he finally said.

The truth needed to come out. He knew this.

xxxXXXXxxxx

Benny helped Elizabeth out of the car and steered her towards the direction of the town. He hoped it was a town and not a mirage. But he did not think these could be so elaborate.

"It's going to be alright," Benny told her, as he took most of her weight. "We'll get help there. You'll see."

Elizabeth was gasping for breath, swaying with every step she took.

"Is it still there?" she whispered.

Benny had no idea what she was talking about, but he shook his head.

"Nah, it's gone. We'll be safe in town."

Elizabeth frowned.

"There shouldn't be any town here."

Benny closed his eyes, telling himself that Elizabeth was obviously not well. She had been unwell since the morning, since something had stung her. At first, he had been sure it was part of her endless complaining she had started on ever since they began their road trip. Now, he was not sure. He should have checked out the sting. Maybe she was allergic to something. Maybe this was a reaction. Maybe she should not have been driving through the desert at all.

"I don't know," he said. "Maybe they don't want people to know about them."

He knew it sounded ridiculous, but so did creatures speeding on two legs through the desert, and Elizabeth apparently accepted the existence of those enough to let herself be affected by them.

They were close to the town. Benny nudged Elizabeth.

"See?" he asked cheerfully, even though he felt anything but cheerful. "There it is."

Elizabeth lifted her head slightly and frowned. She was obviously seeing something, but Benny doubted she was seeing the same thing he was.

"Did you bring me here to die?"

Then her eyes rolled back and she went limp in Benny's arms.

xxxXXXxxxx

Benny took a deep breath, bringing himself back from that moment he had thought Elizabeth would die in his arms. He met Dean's hard gaze.

"Go on," Dean urged him.

Benny was starting to doubt Dean was who he said he was. He did not think he and Sam had ever met Elizabeth. But they seemed interested in his story and, unlike the police or Arthur Croydon, they weren't ridiculing or judging him. That gave him the confidence to go on.

"We walked into this town," he went on. "It looked smallish. The kind where everyone knows each other's business and strangers are side-eyed. Only there was no one to side-eye us."

"The town was deserted," Sam guessed.

Benny swallowed and nodded.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Yeah, it was. Only – in a weird way."

He watched as Dean and his brother exchanged glances and fought with the urge to ask what was wrong. There was an entire conversation that seemed to have gone between them in only one second. And Benny was left on the outside looking in.

It was absurd, Benny thought. They were just kids, the both of them. But he suddenly found himself trusting them – believing they could fix this. He found himself convinced that, even if they could not save Elizabeth anymore, they could at least make sure what happened to her did not happen to anyone else.

"Tell us about the town," Dean said.

Benny closed his eyes.

"Whatever happened, the place had been abandoned in a hurry. Cars were still parked on the streets, stuff was still in the houses and in the shops. I took Lizzie to a pharmacy, thinking I could find something to give her there. But all medicine was expired. The closest sell-by date was 1990. There were a couple that expired in 1987, too."

"So, the town must have been abandoned around 1985-1986," Sam concluded.

Benny nodded.

"It takes a couple of years for meds to reach their sell-by date, so, yeah, I'd put whatever happened around mid-eighties, too."

"What did you do then?" Dean asked. "When you found out the town was abandoned?"

Benny shrugged.

"The phones weren't working," he said. "Not our cell phones and not the town landlines, either. I figured I could find something in town to help me fix whatever was wrong with the car. Elizabeth was in no condition to walk through the desert, and the sooner I got her to a doctor, the better."

"And the creature Elizabeth mentioned?" Dean prompted. "When did you say you saw it?"

Benny swallowed. This was the hard part.

"I think I heard it the first night. We'd holed up in a bar. I heard scratching."

Elizabeth must have heard it too. At least, she woke up from her stupor then and started screaming her head off.

"Lizzie was never completely responsive after that," Benny added. "She would talk, but the things she said made no sense."

They had spent three days in the town. Benny had tried to fix the car. Then, on the third evening, he had seen something huge and grey outside the bar. He'd run to Elizabeth, but it was too late.

"That thing had picked up Lizzie like she weighed nothing," Benny said. "Lizzie was thin, true, but she was tall. You've seen her father. She'd inherited his genes."

Dean and Sam did not look surprised. Benny sighed.

"That's when I lost Elizabeth. I know I lost her for good."

He had stood there rooted to the spot, as the creature had made eye contact with him. Elizabeth hung limply from its grasp. Benny had lost it then. He had turned and bolted and ran until he reached the car.

"And can you believe it? The damn thing actually started."

"What had been wrong with it?" Dean wanted to know.

Benny grimaced.

"Nothing. It had stopped before we got to town, and now it started as if nothing had happened."

As if whatever had brought them there had fulfilled its goal by getting Elizabeth. It did not need Benny now that it had her.

Benny clenched his fists.

"General Croydon is right about one thing, though," he said. "I was a coward. And I did abandon Elizabeth. That's gonna haunt me all my life."

Dean got up. Sam followed suit.

"You had no way of knowing what was out there," Dean said, his tone not quite sympathetic, but not judgmental, either. "I don't think you had a chance to save Elizabeth. At least you survived."

Benny scoffed.

"Some survival," he mumbled.

xxxxXXXxxx

Half an hour after Sam and Dean went to talk to Benny, John drove to the address provided to him by Croydon. He had asked no questions when John had said he needed the address, maybe because he sensed that John kept his secrets and would not reveal them even to someone whom he had trusted in another life. He had not hesitated to share his opinion on the matter, though:

"Godfrey isn't what one might call reliable. He can be an asset, but he can also be a fraud."

John had smiled tightly.

"I've heard he isn't. In fact, he helped you as well, didn't he?"

He had hit a nerve then, and he knew it.

"He had helped Elizabeth's mother. After a fashion."

John had no idea what had happened to Croydon's wife. He assumed she was dead. otherwise, even if she had left Croydon, she would have been here now, after Elizabeth's disappearance. Either way, Croydon would not explain how Godfrey the witch had helped his wife, and John knew better than to press.

Godfrey lived on the outskirts of town in a decrepit house. His shop was on the ground floor. John parked his truck and walked out. As he opened the door, he heard the sound of chimes. He looked up and noticed the strange objects hanging above the door. They were multicolored and some of them, John was certain, were made of bones. Animal, he hoped, but one never knew with witches. He told himself that, after he got what he wanted out of Godfrey, he would send Caleb after him. Caleb always loved putting witches out of business.

Godfrey sat behind the counter, polishing some crystals. He was tall, African American, probably mid-fifties. He had a scar on his right cheek and his right eye seemed damaged. His hands were also scarred. Some of the marks had to be recent. There was a tattoo in the shape of a dreamcatcher on his left wrist.

John took all of this in as he usually did. Knowing exactly who he was dealing with was one of his rules. It also helped him determine whether Godfrey really was the real thing and not just one charlatan among many.

Godfrey continued polishing his crystals, making a sign for John to wait. At first, John obeyed, standing still next to the counter. But as minutes passed, and Godfrey was still focused on his polishing, he was beginning to grow impatient. He sighed pointedly. Godfrey glanced at him once, then kept polishing. When he was finally done, he smirked.

"This is how I weed out my customers," he confessed in a hoarse voice (John added chain-smoker to Godfrey's list of particularities). "If you're willing to shut up and wait, that means you really need my help."

His laugh sounded more like a hack.

"Why are you here?" Godfrey asked. "And, more importantly, how did you find me?"

John suspected the question was another way for Godfrey to further weed out his customers. He hoped he had the right answer.

"Arthur Croydon recommended me to you," he said.

Godfrey nodded thoughtfully.

"And do you have payment?"

John rummaged through his pockets. Fake credit cards were not going to cut it this time, and he knew it.

"Uhhh…how much?"

But Godfrey shook his head.

"Oh, no, no. The money comes after. I want another kind of payment first. An object of value that you hold dear."

John raised his eyebrows. Croydon had not mentioned this. Then again, John was not sure he would have been deterred even if he had known. Objects were just objects, after all. Getting answers about Mary was worth much more. He took out his wallet and handed Godfrey one of the pictures he had of Mary. It had been taken right after they were married.

"My wife," he said. "She is gone now. Pictures are all I have left of her."

Well, that was not quite true. He also had Sam and Dean and a quest for vengeance. But that was a different matter altogether.

Godfrey took the photograph. He glanced at it, then dropped it as if his hands burned.

"She was swallowed up by something dark," he whispered. "Don't try to deny it, I see it on her face."

John leaned forward, his elbows on the greasy counter.

"That something dark was in my son's room," he said. "And I want you to tell me what it was doing there."

Godfrey stared at John long and hard. John did not look away, accepting this exchange, even though it made him uncomfortable. Even though it made him feel as if Godfrey was discovering all his secrets – even the ones he kept hidden from himself.

It was Godfrey who finally looked away. He nodded.

"Very well," he said. "Give me two days. Then come the day after tomorrow, at nightfall. You will have your answers then."

John nodded. He did not think Sam and Dean would find answers about the ghost town by then, so he had time, and the boys would be busy. He made to push away from the counter, when Godfrey gripped his hand. John tensed.

"What?"

Godfrey's eyes narrowed.

"You know what might happen if you do this, right?" he asked. "What I might find out – if I tell it to you – it might change you. You might not look at your son in the same way again."

A better father might have turned away then, John thought. A better father might have refused and told Godfrey to forget it. But John did not think he was that kind of father. He loved Sam, more than he could express but…But Mary had died in his room. John owed it to her and to Dean – not to mention to himself – to find out what had happened. In a way, he owed it to Sam as well. If Sam wasn't…if something was wrong with Sam, at least they could tackle it.

"Don't worry about me," he said, pulling his hand away from Godfrey. "You just take care of what I asked you to. I'll see you in two days."

He walked out, ignoring Godfrey's bare-toothed grin. He tried not to feel like a traitor. If this went wrong, he would be betraying Sam – and Dean, too, whose loyalty was so much with Sam these days. Maybe, in many ways, he would be betraying Mary, too.

xxxxXXXxxx

Sam and Dean had found a diner in town that served decent food. Dean had dragged Sam inside, much to Sam's surprise.

"Two days in a row," he commented. "And places with good food even. Is it my birthday? Is it yours?"

Dean scoffed.

"Hey, do you wanna talk here or do you wanna talk with the General breathing down your neck and judging your girly salad?"

A cough of disapproval interrupted him. Dean looked up and noticed the waitress, a woman in her late twenties, watching the two with raised eyebrows. Clearly she had overheard Dean's last remark. Dean smiled disarmingly at her.

"No offence," he said. "I'm sure you're more of a burger and fries kind of woman, anyway," he paused and glanced at her name-tag. "Kerry."

Sam rolled his eyes. Kerry did not look too impressed either.

"Can I get you anything to go with your prejudices, hon?" she asked sweetly.

Sam disguised his laugh as something that sounded very much like he had whooping cough. Dean mentally swore vengeance later.

The two of them ordered, and Dean very much hoped Kerry would not tamper with his food – or coffee. He watched her sauntering to the bar and shook his head.

"She's trouble that one," he commented.

Sam finally got his breath back after his fit of amusement.

"I'm sure she's saying the same thing about you."

Dean glared at him.

"Done laughing it up, Sammy?" he asked pointedly.

Sam dissolved into another fit of giggles.

"I always thought someone would call you out one day," he said. "And I got to witness it. Up close!"

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Right. Now, if you're done, Chuckles, don't forget we're working."

Sam sobered up, or at least pretended to. His eyes were still gleaming, and Dean suspected it would take some time before he stopped replaying the scene in his head. Never mind, he thought. He was good at this game, too. He'd get Sam sooner than Sam thought.

"So," he began. "Benny's story."

Sam nodded.

"Yeah, lots of things to think about."

"Was he telling the truth?" Dean wondered.

Sam frowned in concentration.

"What do you think?"

Dean nodded.

"He was. If he hadn't been telling the truth, he would have spun us a story about him trying to save Elizabeth. He wouldn't have exposed himself to ridicule and admitted he simply abandoned her. Someone that broken wouldn't be lying."

Sam hummed in approval.

"Then what do you think happened? Elizabeth was unwell long before they got to the desert."

Dean made to say something then stopped as he heard the waitress approach. Kerry slammed the pate with Dean's burger, then placed Sam's salad much more gently in front of him.

"Tuck in, sweetheart," she told him brightly, then walked away, ignoring Dean.

Sam smirked. Dean's glare only amused him even more.

"Not a word," Dean warned him.

"I wasn't going to say anything," Sam protested.

Dean snorted.

"Sure you weren't."

"Honest, I wasn't," Sam insisted, looking wide-eyed and innocent.

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Right. I see how it is."

Sam smirked, digging into his salad.

"So," he said. "The main question we should be asking ourselves is this: was Elizabeth targeted from the start by something and that is why she got sick? Or was she targeted because she was sick? Or was her being there and being sick a coincidence and that thing she saw, whatever it was, needed her for complexly different reasons?"

Dean chewed his fries thoughtfully, looking at Sam. It surprised him, at times, how quickly his brother's mind could work. John was always on Sam's case about him not being physically fit enough, not like Dean, saying that Sam needed to work hard to catch up to Dean, but Dean often thought it was the other way round, as well. Sam might not rise up to John's standards of physical fitness – and Dean had always urged his father to give the kid a break, he was fourteen, after all – but mentally, he was far ahead of either John or Dean. He made connections quickly and researched diligently. Once he grew up, Sam would turn into a brilliant hunter – however much he might have hated being one.

Sam noticed Dean staring at him and frowned.

"What? Have I got something on my face? Have I said something wrong?"

Dean mentally pulled himself out of his thoughts. No use dwelling so much on the future. He probably would not live to see it anyway.

"No," he said quickly. "No, I was…"

He stopped and shrugged.

"What about the town?"

Sam chewed thoughtfully.

"I'll have to see. Maybe check the library tomorrow. Then check the library of the town where Benny and Elizabeth last stayed in before getting lost in the desert."

That earned Sam a nod of approval.

"Goo thinking," Dean said. "You believe you're more likely to find something there, don't you?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "I mean, at least there might be records of something happening in the eighties. Something to explain how an entire town could disappear leaving everything to look like it was business as usual."

That was what worried Dean the most. Something big must have happened to snatch up an entire population center like that. For a moment he wondered if it wasn't too big for just the two of them. Maybe their dad would want to take over – or at least call for reinforcements.

He dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. John got single-minded when he got leads on what had killed their mother. Besides, if Dean asked for help, John might get the idea that Dean could not cut it on his own. And Dean was not going to have that.

He got up, leaving some money on the table –and a generous tip to Kerry to soothe ruffled feathers.

"Come on," he told Sam. "It's high time we got back. The General will be wondering what we're up to, otherwise."

xxxXXXXxxxx

As they were driving back to Arthur Croydon's place, Sam decided it was high time they tackled a problem that had been bothering him ever since they went to talk to Benny. Dean seemed in a good mood, so Sam thought it was safe to approach him with this now.

"So, are you gonna tell me?" he asked casually.

Dean glanced at him briefly, before focusing his attention on the road.

"Tell you what?"

"Why Dad wants us to do this on our own."

He did not miss Dean's hesitation.

"I told you," Dean reminded him. "He thought it was time for the training wheels to come off."

Sam snorted.

"Right."

"Now what' s that supposed to mean?" Dean asked, a faint trace of irritation in his voice.

Sam shrugged.

"Dad does not believe in training wheels coming off. He's the commanding officer of this mission. We're the grunts."

"Speak for yourself," Dean muttered.

Sam felt irritation and betrayal well up in his throat. He turned so he was facing the window, sitting with his back to Dean as much as he could.

"Fine, don't tell me," he mumbled. "See if I care."

Dean didn't say anything but cranked up the music. That was how Sam knew he had been right – and Dean had indeed been ordered by their father to keep Sam in the dark. Dean never liked it when he lied to Sam and there were always tells Sam knew now. He could read the signs quite well.

The thought of Dean lying to him about something important – even at his father's orders – brought to Sam a hard to ignore sense of betrayal. Dean was supposed to be on his side. The two of them against the world. Sam had never felt so left out – or heartbroken. As if he did not know where he stood anymore.

I enjoyed writing this chapter, and I couldn't help adding Benny's point of view, because I absolutely love writing outsiders witnessing Sam and Dean's relationship. And John is proving quite challenging to write, but I love delving into his mind and discovering what makes him tick.

See you next week :)