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Benny never dreamt. Not once.
When he was small, they said it was because his soulmate hadn’t been born yet. When he got older, no one talked about it, and Benny knew it was because they all thought his soulmate had died, that he was left lonely and adrift, doomed to be without his soulmate forever.
He didn’t believe them. His soulmate had never lived, he had never had a soul dream.
When he gets turned, he thinks it all makes sense. God is omniscient, planned for this. Benny doesn’t have a soul to share anymore, so therefore no soulmate. It’s crushing, more crushing than dealing with the fact that he now drinks blood.
He doesn’t dream in Purgatory, either, but he barely sleeps there. However, it’s there that he finds out that other monsters do have soulmates. The dreams don’t come in Purgatory, not if the soulmate is still on Earth, but they did have soulmates while they lived.
That is like a punch in the gut, and Benny wonders what the hell is wrong with him that he just doesn’t get a soulmate.
Sam’s never had the dreams.
He doesn’t talk about it. The dreams are a mostly private thing, to be mainly discussed with family and close friends. Sam has no close friends and John was never encouraging of caring and sharing, so no one knows that Sam’s messed up like this, empty inside, missing that crucial piece.
He wishes he knew what was wrong with him, why he wasn’t worthy of a soulmate, but he supposes it’s just one more thing to add to his list of reasons why he’s messed up.
Dean drags him back from Purgatory, and Benny sleeps for twelve hours.
And he dreams.
He dreams of run-down motel rooms and crappy food, of exasperation and guilt. He frowns. His soulmate, whoever they are, wherever they are–and they seem to move a lot, Benny can’t catch up–doesn’t deserve to be feeling like that. They should be feeling like a million bucks.
And then there’s the monsters. His soulmate is a damn hunter, and maybe fate hates him after all. Maybe this is an elaborate trick to just send him right back to Purgatory.
Benny still gathers whatever information about his soulmate he can, every night.
Sam early jumps out of his skin, because he’s dreaming now. it’s real, not the phantom dreams some unlucky souls get. He knows it is.
Blood. Fear. Confusion. Restlessness. Craving. Sam gets emotions more than anything else, strong and pungent across the blond, but he’s getting things. They’re real.
He doesn’t know why now. His soulmate isn’t a child, he knows that much. He doesn’t know why the bond just started working, although he supposes he really shouldn’t look gift horses in the mouth.
He can’t wait to sleep.
They shake hands at the river that day, staring at each other, and it’s like the perspectives click into place.
Hello. It’s you I’ve been waiting for.