Chapter Text
No one was sure where Dean went once every few months, they knew better than to ask where he was going. They only watched cautiously as he packed an overnight bag and drove off in the Impala. Mary and Sam would share a look, Bobby would shrug, Cas would watch until the Impala disappeared into the trees. The others didn’t pay it any mind, they didn’t know Dean well anyways. Then everyone got back to work.
Everyone except Jack. He was too new to the Winchester way of life, too new to just put it out of his mind. He still asked questions.
This was the first time he’d seen Dean commence this particular ritual. Jack found his way outside and stood behind Cas, catching the last glimpse of the Impala as it drove off into the morning. The sun caught on the lovingly polished sheen of the car and reflected right into his eye, making him wince audibly. Oh, the delights of being human. Cas turned around, noticing him for the first time.
“Oh, Jack,” He said. His thoughts seemed to remain far away. “Good morning."
“Morning,” Jack said.
Cas took a last look at the road and then started for the bunker.
“I think Sam was talking about a case for us. Why don’t we go-”
“Where is Dean going?” Jack asked. “Why didn’t he say goodbye?”
Cas sighed. “Why say goodbye when we all know he’ll be back?”
“You answered my question with a question. Sam said that’s called deflection.”
“Please, Jack, let’s just get started on the case.”
“I’ll work on it after you tell me what’s going on with Dean.”
“You already take after his stubbornness, don’t you,” Cas grumbled as he started again toward the bunker.
“What was that?” Jack smiled, following him.
“Nevermind,” Cas opened the heavy iron door and held it open for Jack. “It’s personal for Dean and he just doesn’t like talking to us about his troubles. He thinks it will make us worried about him. It does. Well, it does for me. But of course, it’s worse when he shoves them down and never mentions them.”
Cas kind of seemed to be talking to himself, but Jack kept listening. He followed Cas to where Sam was sitting at the long table in the middle of the bunker. Sam was busy talking to one of the new recruits and didn’t pay them much attention.
“What do you mean?” Jack asked.
“Certainly you must know of Dean’s sadness? His darkness?”
Cas said the last few words like he was telling Jack some kind of secret, but of course Jack new. Jack could never read minds, but when he had his powers he could kind of… read auras. He could tell a little bit about a person just by being near them. Jack’s first impression of Dean was intense. Jack had just been born and everything was new and terrifying and here was a man just overflowing in turmoil. Dean was almost painful to be near.
“Yes,” Jack said. “I do. But is that what’s making him drive away? You still haven’t told me where he’s going.”
“I’m not entirely sure what he does, but I think he goes on these drives every once in a while to try to deal with, you know, what he’s been through.”
Jack nodded, but he still didn’t totally understand.
“Oh, are you guys talking about Dean’s road trips?” Sam said, realizing they were there. “He got drunk one night and told me he goes to Maine."
He said it like it meant something and Cas nodded knowingly.
“What’s in Maine?” Jack asked.
---
Dean sat at the bar of the grungey diner, his head down. It might’ve looked like he was sleeping. If that was the case, he was stuck in some god-awful nightmare. Every time he looked up he thought he saw him. His heart would hitch in his chest, he’d blink, and he’d be gone. Only an imprint of the man was left in his mind. Dean could still feel his deep blue eyes meeting his own.
Benny.
He’d been gone six long years. Confined to Purgatory. Fighting for his every breath, earning every second of his existence. But Dean knew that Benny didn’t mind that. Neither of them really did. He and Dean both felt comforted by the simplicity of purgatory, they liked fighting the bad guy and only worrying about oneself. And they liked fighting for each other.
But that didn’t make it any easier. Sure, Benny existed somewhere, but he didn’t exist there in the diner with Dean. He was still dead. Dean was still the one who killed him. He would never forgive himself for that.
Dean would go to Benny’s old diner every few months. He used to tell himself that he was working through stuff. That he was getting over everything. If that were true, he wouldn’t still feel like this, he wouldn’t keep returning to this place so stained with bad memories.
He would never admit it to himself, but in the back of his mind, he knew the real reason he was there. He kept returning to Maine because he was holding onto a tiny sliver of hope that Benny might return. After Benny died, Dean read all that he could on Purgatory. Almost none of it was helpful and most of it was complicated and impossible to understand but there was something. In an ancient text that Dean stole from a psychic in Delaware, Dean had read that the monsters regenerated on Earth after spending enough time in Purgatory. It was vague and it might not have even been true, but it was something. It was enough to make Dean drive almost two thousand miles from the bunker to the diner in Maine.
He wasn’t sure if he was waiting.
He didn’t do much when he got there. Dean would buy bacon and eggs, a beer or two, and camp out. He stayed there most of the day staring off into space.
He pretended like he was getting clarity, taking his mind off of things. He actually didn’t mind getting away from the bunker for a bit. He didn’t meditate, though, or sit there and just sift through his feelings. He would eat lukewarm eggs and soggy bacon and he would remember things. He would remember Benny. He knew it was sappy, but that wasn’t stopping him.
---
You would never expect that holding someone’s soul in your left arm would be so intimate. Something about two people putting their absolute trust in the other, knowing that one misstep could kill the other, it was wild. His forearm was hot and pulsing with life. It hurt but it also felt right. Dean had never been more close to anyone. Literally.
He wasn’t sure how it worked. He wondered if Benny was conscious in there or maybe dormant, asleep. He wondered if Benny could hear him.
Dean was minutes away from Benny’s grave. He would almost miss this. This being so close. There would never be anything like this again, he was sure.
He knew he had some kind of feelings for Benny. He was still working through them, but he was sure they were something like love. Brotherly love, though? Familial love? Or something else? Dean didn’t want to dwell on it, but that was getting harder. His arm, his Benny; currently, that was all he could think about.
Finally, he reached the grave.
“This better be you, you son of a bitch,” Dean said. His arm gave a sudden throb of pain, and Dean wondered again if Benny could hear him.
He started digging. At first, it was difficult. The soil was cold and hard and his arm was really starting to hurt, almost as if Benny was antsy about getting out. Dean didn’t stop, he focused on pushing the shovel into the earth. Halfway through, something odd happened. His left arm tensed up, and the heat shifts from painful to comforting. Dean almost stopped digging, but he was so close. He tried to ignore it. Then he noticed what was actually happening; Benny was helping him, clenching his forearm to get the job done faster. Dean grinned in awe but stopping digging mid-shove. He’d struck bones.
“Hold on you bastard,” Dean said as his forearm started to burn painfully once more.
He took out a knife and grimaced, cutting his left arm. The blood dripped onto the bones and they started to burn with light. Dean closed his eyes when they became too hard to look at and he clutched his arm.
A twig snapped behind him. Dean turned to look and there he was. Benny ran a hand over his close-cropped brown hair. The muscles he gained as a vampire and as a sailor rippled as he stretched. He rolled his head and cracked his neck with bravado. He bared his fangs but Dean wasn’t afraid, not in the slightest. In fact, he was delighted. Who knew vampire fangs could ever look this attractive? Dean tried hard not to stare, but Benny apparently was not as self-conscious. His eyes rolled over Dean slowly, surely, up and down. Then he smiled, and it was the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen.
“That was fast,” Dean cleared his throat.
“No thanks to you,” Benny said. “The hell took you so long?
“You’re welcome. Everything working?” He watched as Benny continued to flex various muscles, crack joints.
“Good enough.” He smiled again and Dean’s heart melted. “So, what do we do now?”
Dean willed himself to say something, to ask him to stay, to come with him. But the words failed to come. “Like we talked about, I guess,”
“Then, I guess this is goodbye.”
Benny took a step forward, opening his arms. Dean rushed into them. They embraced and it was so warm and Dean didn’t want to leave him. It was not brotherly love.
Benny pushed Dean away from him but just a few inches, he still clutched tight to his arms as if he was an anchor to the real world and letting go would send him back to purgatory. Their faces were close. Dean smiled as Benny opened his mouth. Benny’s eyes were so full of life and so full of hope. It would be so easy to kiss him
“We made it, brother,” Benny said quietly, his breath warm. “I can’t believe it.”
“You and me both,” Dean whispered.
Benny cupped the side of Dean’s face with his hand, but he did nothing more. He nodded, and he walked into the night.
---
Dean wished he had kissed him. He thinks about it all the time. He thinks that if he could’ve said something, then maybe Benny might’ve wanted to stay. Now he sits in the diner, not wanting to think about Benny anymore. He dejectedly pokes at the now cold eggs and wishes for a reality where things had gone right.
“Dean?”