SPN/DA Crossover fic: The Wellspring (14/?)
Title: The Wellspring
Fandom(s): Supernatural, Dark Angel
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Rating: Ah, fuck. I just said fuck. I say fuck a lot. Is that considered an R or a PG-13 these days? One of those.
Summary: Sam and Dean find a tiny smartass in a barn in Montana. What are they to do?
Warnings: Crude language, cuddles, ice cream
Previous chapters and more info can be found here.
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Ben doesn't understand what’s going on. Dean’s got him by the hand, is pulling him gently into the room and Ben has absolutely no idea why the man’s so quiet and tense, or why he’s almost certain he smells it - that smell of a man who’s just been rushed down by ten vicious waist-high humans driven by another man’s orders, that smell of children as their slippered and bare feet pound against the grass, hitting the ground to avoid the bullets, skin dripping with unfathomably cold sweat. Ben has no idea why Dean smells so afraid.
Ben doesn’t understand what’s going on, but he knows he wants it to stop. He feels strong hands underneath his armpits as Dean lifts him up and sits him down on the bed.
“Alec,” Sam’s saying and Ben takes nervous eyes off of Dean for moment, aims his gaze past the man’s left side to see Sam tugging the hoodie off of Ben’s indignant twin. Alec pats down his mussed hair, shoves at Sam with an irate hand.
“I can take off my own clothes, Sam.”
Sam ignores him. “I want you to go in the bathroom and take a shower.”
Alec glares. “Why?”
“Because you smell, that’s why.”
“I do not. I took a bath just two days ago.”
“Alec.” Dean cuts Sam to the chase and his voice is low and firm and trying its best to maintain control. The sound of it makes Ben want to hyperventilate, but only after running far, far away. “Drop the attitude and do as you're told, kid.”
The surprise drops away from Alec’s face in an instant to be replaced first by defiance and then by perplexity. He looks first at Dean, then he looks at Ben. Their eyes lock and it’s not that Ben wants Alec to know what he’s feeling, it’s not that Ben wants Alec to see that he’s scared as fuck (Yes, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Forgive him.), it’s just that he can’t help it. Alec knows. Alec will always know because the only real difference between them is that last digit on the end of their designations. This is something that Ben knows.
“Why are you trying to get rid of me?” Alec asks and he doesn’t look at Dean while he addresses him, and he doesn’t look at Sam. For the moment, at least, Alec only has eyes for Ben. “What’s wrong with Ben?”
“Nothing’s wrong with Ben-” Sam tries to lie. Ben knows it’s a lie. Sam thinks there’s something wrong with Ben. Ben is defective. Ben isn’t meant for this room, for any room outside. Ben was meant for the basement.
“Bullshit,” Alec snarls, and he backs up when Sam unthinkingly steps forward, jerks away when Dean reaches a hand out to grab or console him, Ben’s not sure which. Alec sidesteps both of them to climb onto the bed and attach himself to Ben’s side. “I’m not taking a cuntsucking shower. You might be possessed or something.”
“Alec.” Dean wipes a hand down his face. His eyes are drawn and tired and weighted down with concern. “We’re not possessed, kiddo. We just need to talk to Ben.”
“Yeah? Well, he doesn’t want to talk to you.” Alec’s so angry, he’s vibrating. Ben presses into him, tries to disappear into his twin. Alec knows. Alec will always know, and he wraps a buzzing hand around Ben’s wrist, glares at Dean. “You’re scaring him. You’re scaring my brother. You don’t get to do that.”
Ben wants to protest. Ben wants to say that he’s not scared, that he’s only nervous and that people don’t get to make him nervous because ‘nervous’ sounds better than ‘scared.’ Ben wants to say this, but he can’t. Ben’s mouth won’t work. Ben is defective and terrified.
And Dean sees that now, apparently. Dean’s kneeling in front of him and putting his hands on Ben’s knees and telling him not to be scared. “I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you,” Dean says. He’s always saying that and Ben’s always believing him, but he can’t believe him this time.
Dean smells like fear because he’s afraid of Ben. Dean’s afraid of Ben because Ben is defective and things that are defective belong in the basement. And the basement is full of scary things.
“Benny,” Dean’s earnest now. “I’m not mad at you, sweetheart. Sam and I just need to ask you about something. If you want Alec to stay, he can stay.”
Ben wants Alec to stay. He indicates this by taking his free hand and using it to cover the hand Alec’s gripping him with.
Dean nods and looks at Sam who starts fishing through his pockets. The taller man approaches with his fist closed around his findings, kneels carefully next to Dean and deposits whatever it is into his older brother’s hand. Dean closes his eyes for a moment. It’s a long moment and Ben watches as the man takes a breath before opening them, focuses in on Ben.
“We found these in your pants, Benny,” he says. “We need to know where they came from.” Dean opens his hand.
The gift. They want to know about the gift? Ben is caught somewhere between relief and confusion and he finds the conflicting feelings to be pretty disorienting as he sighs and tries to explain.
“They’re for the Blue Lady,” he tells them, and his voice is hoarse and tight from the previous tension. “I got them from the girl.”
“The Blue Lady?” Dean’s brows knit together.
“The girl?” Sam’s brows knit together. He nudges his brother with an elbow and explains, “The Virgin Mary.”
“Huh?”
“Ben calls the Virgin Mary the Blue Lady. How do you not know this?”
“Well, I’m sorry that I’m so busy driving and trying to put food on the table, you fucking trophy wife-”
“Guys.” Alec isn’t buzzing anymore, but he’s tense and Ben turns his head to see his twin’s eyes aren’t focused on anyone in the room, but on the wall. “Matters at hand.”
Sam shakes his head like he’s trying to clear it and his hair whips around a little bit, conjures up a breeze that skims Ben’s arm. “What girl, Ben? Who gave you these?”
“She didn’t give them to me-”
“He stole them,” Alec interrupts and he doesn’t look happy about it. “He stole them from the girl in the graveyard. The corpse. We left you alone with the corpse.” Alec pulls his hand away. Ben’s skin stings for no other reason than the fact that Alec’s hand isn’t there anymore. And then Alec’s off the bed and looking at him and saying, “You’ve always thought your stories were real. At Manticore...all that shit you used to tell me. You thought that was real? And that thing you did with your unit. The offering.” Alec’s face is stony with hurt and disgust. “That wasn’t...you weren’t making that up, were you? Or you didn’t think you were. You didn’t think you were making any of it up.”
“Alec?” Ben doesn’t understand. Ben doesn’t know what Alec’s going on about. “Alec, what are you talking about?”
“You pulled the teeth out of a man you just killed and you offered them, Ben. You offered them to your imaginary friend.”
Imaginary.
Ben’s flying. He’s flying off the bed and his palms are wide but his fingers are crooked in, ready to latch into his twin’s skin because how dare Alec. How dare Alec call the Lady anything but great and present. She’s real. She is. He knows she is. She helped them when they were sick. She helped them get out of Manticore. She helped them find Sam and Dean and it’s the greatest thing anyone’s ever done for him. Alec’s just mad because Ben wants to thank her by being right and good and not an amoral thief.
He smacks into a hard body, twists with it onto the floor. Dean. Dean’s arms are gripping him with as much strength as the man possesses and its just barely keeping Ben down as he fights and flails to get loose.
Alec finally allows an ashen-faced Sam to herd him into the bathroom, but he stops in the threshold and looks at Ben who is still all arms and legs and trying to get away. “I’ll...I’ll be in here, Ben. If you need me.”
The door closes and Alec’s not here anymore. Alec doesn’t want to be here unless he has to be here. Ben goes limp. His breathing is heavy and so is Dean’s. Dean’s chest is rising and falling and Ben’s balanced on him like a bottle on a rail just waiting to be shot.
“She’s real,” he says quietly. “I know she’s real.”
Sam scrubs a hand over his left eye and he doesn’t look at Ben. Sam can’t look at Ben because Ben’s an ugly, defective thing that nobody wants to look at anymore.
Dean’s arms have loosened around him, but neither of them move. They just stay on the floor. Ben keeps talking. “She’s real and she looks after me if I give her something in return.”
Dean shifts, hefts Ben up so he can sit upright. Ben tries to scramble off the man’s lap but Dean’s quick for someone lacking the X5 genetic code. Hands that don’t even seem tired grip him by the arms and haul him back. There’s heavy breath on Ben’s neck and it moves up to his ear, tickling it with it’s closeness. “Who looks after you?”
Ben blinks, wonders how Dean missed that entire conversation that just happened. “The Lady.”
Dean shakes his head back and forth just slightly and Ben feels the weight of the man’s chin drop onto his own head. “No, Benny. Who looks after you?” Ben’s hands are small. He realizes this as Dean picks them up in his own hands, rests them on his open palms. “I know you know this. You’re a genius. You couldn’t not know this.” Ben’s legs are short. Dean’s got his legs outstretched on the carpet and Ben’s legs are between Dean’s legs, his feet ending right where the man’s calves begin. Ben’s feet are small feet. Dean drops his head down, puts his cheek against the top of Ben’s head. The sides of his lips graze Ben’s temple when he repeats,“Who looks after you?”
“You do.”
“Who’s here? Who’s real?”
“You are, but she is-”
“She’s not real, Benny. You made her up and she made everything seem better. M’dad...nobody looked after me, either, when I was your age. I made up stories sometimes to make myself feel better, too. M’dad wasn’t ever as good as I made him out to be.” Ben’s face is sticky. He feels it and tries to wrench away, wants to swipe at his face, but Dean drops one of his hands first and trails a delicate fingertip down Ben’s cheek. “The things that are real are the things you can see.”
“Ghosts are real.” Ben’s voice is almost inaudible, but Dean hears him.
“And you can see them, can’t you? Most of the time.”
“Other people believe in her.”
“Ben?” Sam. Sam’s looking at him again. Sam’s getting on his knees next to them and he’s asking, “The book? That book I bought you...”
Ben takes in a hitching breath because he knows where this is going. “She...she was wrong.”
Sam closes his eyes. Dean doesn’t. Dean is gentle and unafraid. “You thought she was so you crossed everything out. Is that right? Her stories weren’t your stories.”
“She was wrong.”
“Only as wrong as you were. Only as wrong as anyone ever is. She couldn’t see the Lady, either.”
Ben hurts. Ben’s stomach hurts. Ben’s brain hurts. Ben’s shaking in Dean’s arms. “She...helped me get out of Manticore. We...we did the offering before we broke out.”
“And you didn’t all make it. You said. Alec said. You didn’t all make it.”
They didn’t all make it. Hardly any of them made it.
“She wasn’t looking after you, Benny. She was never looking after you.”
“She was,” Ben says, because he really wants it to be true. She was. She was there. He did it for Her. He was a good soldier and he executed the prisoner and he did it for Her.
“She wasn’t. She wasn’t looking after you. Nobody looked after you. You were scared and you were alone and then we came along.” There’s a hint of triumph in Dean's voice at the end of this sentence and Ben swallows the pain down his dry throat. Dean continues, “And now someone’s looking after you.”
Ben peers cautiously at Sam, who looks like he’s trying to collect his thoughts. “Sammy’s scared of me.” Sam flinches like a startled horse, looks at him with wide eyes and a quickly shaking head.
Dean snorts. “Sammy’s a big princess who doesn’t know how to control his reactions around his family. He was the baby, kid. He never had to.”
“Don’t call me the baby, Dean-”
“Shut your hole and tell ‘im you’re not scared of him.”
A gigantic hand runs over Ben’s hair. Sam’s eyes are all big and goopy and he admits, “I’m a little scared of you, Benny, but it’s only because you’re Dean’s clone.”
Ben turns his head away because he’s pretty sure Sam is full of lies.“You keep looking at me like I’m defective.”
Before he can so much as suck in a breath there are fingers gripping his hips and hauling him out from between Dean’s legs. Dean makes a sound of strangled indignation as 75 pounds of Ben gracelessly scrapes across his body.
Ben doesn’t get it. Sam’s smothering him and Ben doesn’t get it. He’s stuck on an even scale with the knowledge that Sam is an overly-affectionate monster who likes Ben just fine and the belief that Sam is trying to choke him to death.
“You are defective,” the tall man’s murmuring, and Ben feels like crying at the sound of the words. “But so m’I. All Winchesters are a little defective. It’s why we belong together.”
Dean nods and Ben feels a hand on his spine, sees another hand pat Sam’s head. “It’s true, Benny. We’re a weird fucking family. People did you wrong and you got a little twisted because of it, but that’s okay.”
“It is?” Ben’s not so sure.
“Yeah. It’s fine. We’re gonna make it okay again. There’s gonna be a rule about teeth, though. We leave them where they are, okay?”
Ben aches, but he says, “Okay.”
“I mean it, Benny. If I find anymore teeth, I’m going t’let Sam put you on his goddamn naughty bed and then m’gonna tickle you until you squeal.” Fingers dig into Ben’s side. He squeals. Dean’s voice goes serious. “You tell us if you feel like you’re not being looked after. We take care of that. Nobody else. You got me?”
It’s an order. It’s an order and Ben’s a good soldier.
“Yes, sir.”
It’s hard to penetrate the fog and pain of near-disillusionment in his head, but somewhere he feels a prick, and a light weight tips the scale in knowing’s favor.
*****
Their clothes are still at the laundromat. Sam breathes a sigh of relief and even says, “Thank fucking God” under his breath as Alec rests two hands on the edge of the washer and watches as the man yanks shirts and jeans and underwear out with zest.
“Ben’s fucked up, isn’t he?”
An older woman beside them is looking like Alec just offended her delicate sensibilities and Alec smiles brightly and waves at her. She spins on her heel and walks away in a huff. It’s pretty funny, really.
“Watch your language, Alec,” Sam tells him with a sigh. “And don’t wave at strangers.”
“But he is, isn’t he?” Alec persists. “He yanked some teeth out of a corpse. You’ve gotta think he’s a little fucked up.”
“Alec.” Sam doesn’t have much patience today. Alec can tell. The man shoves the last wet garment into their bag and and slams the washer shut, glares down at Alec with a hard gaze. “Watch your mouth.”
Alec doesn’t apologize. They’re not talking about appropriate language right now and Sam knows it. This is about Ben, and if its about Ben, then its about Alec. He stares at Sam until the guy finally sighs and stops looking like a harassed mother.
“There’s a park,” Sam says, trailing a hand down the center of his scalp, “a little down the road. You wanna go there? This...this isn’t a good place, Alec.”
Alec understands. They could be overheard and they don’t want to be overheard. They’re a strange little family that has conversations about strange things and they don’t want to be overheard.
“I want to go to the park, Sam.”
They go to the park. There’s a slide and some monkey bars and some kids still playing even though the sun’s almost set. Sam mumbles under his breath about parents who don’t know where their kids are.
“There’s a swing. You wanna swing?”
Alec doesn’t want to swing. He’s never actually swinged or swung or what-the-fuck-ever before, but he knows the last thing he wants to do right now is swing.
“Ben’s fucked up, isn’t he?” he asks again, and it’s not a question. It’s not a question at all. It’s a fact that he’s stating. Ben’s fucked up. Isn’t he, Sam?
“It...It’s going to be hard, Alec. It’s going to be hard for him for a while. We just need to look after him really well, okay?”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m nine, Sam.”
“But you are nine.”
Or ten. Alec is nine or ten and he keeps letting Sam and Dean call him nine because if that’s the way they want to see it, then fine. They want to see happy-eyed children alight with the innocence of the single digits and Alec wants to let them. Usually.
“No one at Manticore is nine. They don’t let us be nine.”
Sam reaches down a hand, squeezes Alec’s shoulder. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re not at Manticore, then, isn’t it?”
Alec’s moving unconsciously. He must be. He doesn’t know how his face suddenly became pillowed in Sam’s abdomen, but he’s pretty sure Sam didn’t do it. “I try not to be,” he says, his voice muffled against the tall Winchester’s shirt. “I try m’best not to be. Ben’s still there, sometimes. A lot of the time. I want it to leave him alone.” Sam’s fingers are warm and nimble, rubbing at the back of Alec’s neck. “It doesn’t ever leave him alone.”
It doesn’t. Alec tries really, really hard to make it go away but it won’t. It keeps following them in Ben’s stiff stance and his need to follow orders and the guns in the trunk of the Impala and the shots. The bullets. The bang bang bang of Dean shooting rock salt in a spirit’s face and the bodies in the graveyard and the solitary cell in Bobby’s basement. Bobby’s motherfucking basement.
There are kids hanging on the monkey bars and all Alec sees are soldiers in training and those giggles, those giggles aren’t allowed. They’re going to be punished for that, they better look out. They’ll be punished and it’ll never leave them, either. Alec tries his best but Ben’s still there and Alec’s still there and they can never get out.
“We can never get out.”
He doesn’t realize he’s talking. Sam leans down, though, and puts his forehead against Alec’s forehead and goddamn, does Sam have a big forehead.
“You are out. You’re out and you’re not going back.”
“They’re looking for us. They’re always going to be looking for us.”
“That’s fine. M’never gonna let them get you. We’re never gonna let them get you.”
They stand like that for a long time. There are still some streaks of pink and orange in the sky, but everything around them is cast in darkness. Sam straightens and asks him if he wants a piggy back ride back to the car.
Alec shakes his head. “No,” he replies. “Carry me. I’m feeling faint.” And he goes limp where he stands, trusts Sam to snatch him out of midair before he hits the ground. “Didja like that, Uncle Sammy? I acted just like you.”
“You know, the girl jokes just aren’t funny anymore,” Sam grunts, hoisting the boy into a comfortable position.
Alec snickers because sometimes Sam is just so silly. “Liar. They’ll never stop being funny.”
Sam exhales through his nose, sounds kind of like an angry bull, but he doesn’t reply. That’s fine. Alec likes Irate Sam, he’s a helluva guy. And he’s here and Alec’s here and here isn’t Manticore. Not for the moment, at least.
Alec tucks his nose into Sam’s neck and watches the playground fade into the distance as they make their way back to the Impala. His eyelids are drooping closed and he’s surprised at his own desire to sleep. They pass a young woman on a bench. She’s wearing dark glasses even though it’s too dark to see and Alec’s just wondering what kind of crazy person wears sunglasses at night when she lifts up her hand and waves at him. He smiles and returns the wave, thinking with a snort of Sam’s scolding in the laundromat. Don’t wave at strangers. Right.
“Sam?” he yawns. “How come some people wear sunglasses at night?”
“Hmm?”
“There was a lady wearing sunglasses. And its night.”
“Maybe she’s blind.”
“She didn’t have a stick. Or a dog.”
Alec’s body moves as Sam shrugs. “Maybe she’s a big Corey Hart fan and feels she’s gotta represent.”
“Who’s Corey Hart?”
Alec vibrates when Sam’s body rumbles with chuckles and the man says in a mocking tone, “Kid, I have so much to teach you” and Alec grins because he’s glad Sam mocks Dean sometimes when Dean’s not there to defend himself. Fair is fair, and Sam’s not all tiaras and bitchy looks, thank God. Sam is awesome because Dean is awesome. Alec knows this because Alec is awesome and Alec is Dean and Ben is Dean, too. So Ben is awesome. Ben is strange and fucked up and completely awesome and so are Alec and Sam and Dean.
“You’re awesome,” Alec tells Sam as the man tucks him into the back seat.
Sam looks surprised, and the smile that forms on his face is slow and sincere and Alec will never tell him this, but he finds it to be pretty beautiful.
“Thanks, kid. You’re awesome, too.”
They’re awesome. Sam gets into the driver’s seat and drives. They’re awesome and they’re going back to where Dean and Ben are. They’re going home.
[ Next]
Fandom(s): Supernatural, Dark Angel
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Rating: Ah, fuck. I just said fuck. I say fuck a lot. Is that considered an R or a PG-13 these days? One of those.
Summary: Sam and Dean find a tiny smartass in a barn in Montana. What are they to do?
Warnings: Crude language, cuddles, ice cream
Previous chapters and more info can be found here.
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Ben doesn't understand what’s going on. Dean’s got him by the hand, is pulling him gently into the room and Ben has absolutely no idea why the man’s so quiet and tense, or why he’s almost certain he smells it - that smell of a man who’s just been rushed down by ten vicious waist-high humans driven by another man’s orders, that smell of children as their slippered and bare feet pound against the grass, hitting the ground to avoid the bullets, skin dripping with unfathomably cold sweat. Ben has no idea why Dean smells so afraid.
Ben doesn’t understand what’s going on, but he knows he wants it to stop. He feels strong hands underneath his armpits as Dean lifts him up and sits him down on the bed.
“Alec,” Sam’s saying and Ben takes nervous eyes off of Dean for moment, aims his gaze past the man’s left side to see Sam tugging the hoodie off of Ben’s indignant twin. Alec pats down his mussed hair, shoves at Sam with an irate hand.
“I can take off my own clothes, Sam.”
Sam ignores him. “I want you to go in the bathroom and take a shower.”
Alec glares. “Why?”
“Because you smell, that’s why.”
“I do not. I took a bath just two days ago.”
“Alec.” Dean cuts Sam to the chase and his voice is low and firm and trying its best to maintain control. The sound of it makes Ben want to hyperventilate, but only after running far, far away. “Drop the attitude and do as you're told, kid.”
The surprise drops away from Alec’s face in an instant to be replaced first by defiance and then by perplexity. He looks first at Dean, then he looks at Ben. Their eyes lock and it’s not that Ben wants Alec to know what he’s feeling, it’s not that Ben wants Alec to see that he’s scared as fuck (Yes, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Forgive him.), it’s just that he can’t help it. Alec knows. Alec will always know because the only real difference between them is that last digit on the end of their designations. This is something that Ben knows.
“Why are you trying to get rid of me?” Alec asks and he doesn’t look at Dean while he addresses him, and he doesn’t look at Sam. For the moment, at least, Alec only has eyes for Ben. “What’s wrong with Ben?”
“Nothing’s wrong with Ben-” Sam tries to lie. Ben knows it’s a lie. Sam thinks there’s something wrong with Ben. Ben is defective. Ben isn’t meant for this room, for any room outside. Ben was meant for the basement.
“Bullshit,” Alec snarls, and he backs up when Sam unthinkingly steps forward, jerks away when Dean reaches a hand out to grab or console him, Ben’s not sure which. Alec sidesteps both of them to climb onto the bed and attach himself to Ben’s side. “I’m not taking a cuntsucking shower. You might be possessed or something.”
“Alec.” Dean wipes a hand down his face. His eyes are drawn and tired and weighted down with concern. “We’re not possessed, kiddo. We just need to talk to Ben.”
“Yeah? Well, he doesn’t want to talk to you.” Alec’s so angry, he’s vibrating. Ben presses into him, tries to disappear into his twin. Alec knows. Alec will always know, and he wraps a buzzing hand around Ben’s wrist, glares at Dean. “You’re scaring him. You’re scaring my brother. You don’t get to do that.”
Ben wants to protest. Ben wants to say that he’s not scared, that he’s only nervous and that people don’t get to make him nervous because ‘nervous’ sounds better than ‘scared.’ Ben wants to say this, but he can’t. Ben’s mouth won’t work. Ben is defective and terrified.
And Dean sees that now, apparently. Dean’s kneeling in front of him and putting his hands on Ben’s knees and telling him not to be scared. “I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you,” Dean says. He’s always saying that and Ben’s always believing him, but he can’t believe him this time.
Dean smells like fear because he’s afraid of Ben. Dean’s afraid of Ben because Ben is defective and things that are defective belong in the basement. And the basement is full of scary things.
“Benny,” Dean’s earnest now. “I’m not mad at you, sweetheart. Sam and I just need to ask you about something. If you want Alec to stay, he can stay.”
Ben wants Alec to stay. He indicates this by taking his free hand and using it to cover the hand Alec’s gripping him with.
Dean nods and looks at Sam who starts fishing through his pockets. The taller man approaches with his fist closed around his findings, kneels carefully next to Dean and deposits whatever it is into his older brother’s hand. Dean closes his eyes for a moment. It’s a long moment and Ben watches as the man takes a breath before opening them, focuses in on Ben.
“We found these in your pants, Benny,” he says. “We need to know where they came from.” Dean opens his hand.
The gift. They want to know about the gift? Ben is caught somewhere between relief and confusion and he finds the conflicting feelings to be pretty disorienting as he sighs and tries to explain.
“They’re for the Blue Lady,” he tells them, and his voice is hoarse and tight from the previous tension. “I got them from the girl.”
“The Blue Lady?” Dean’s brows knit together.
“The girl?” Sam’s brows knit together. He nudges his brother with an elbow and explains, “The Virgin Mary.”
“Huh?”
“Ben calls the Virgin Mary the Blue Lady. How do you not know this?”
“Well, I’m sorry that I’m so busy driving and trying to put food on the table, you fucking trophy wife-”
“Guys.” Alec isn’t buzzing anymore, but he’s tense and Ben turns his head to see his twin’s eyes aren’t focused on anyone in the room, but on the wall. “Matters at hand.”
Sam shakes his head like he’s trying to clear it and his hair whips around a little bit, conjures up a breeze that skims Ben’s arm. “What girl, Ben? Who gave you these?”
“She didn’t give them to me-”
“He stole them,” Alec interrupts and he doesn’t look happy about it. “He stole them from the girl in the graveyard. The corpse. We left you alone with the corpse.” Alec pulls his hand away. Ben’s skin stings for no other reason than the fact that Alec’s hand isn’t there anymore. And then Alec’s off the bed and looking at him and saying, “You’ve always thought your stories were real. At Manticore...all that shit you used to tell me. You thought that was real? And that thing you did with your unit. The offering.” Alec’s face is stony with hurt and disgust. “That wasn’t...you weren’t making that up, were you? Or you didn’t think you were. You didn’t think you were making any of it up.”
“Alec?” Ben doesn’t understand. Ben doesn’t know what Alec’s going on about. “Alec, what are you talking about?”
“You pulled the teeth out of a man you just killed and you offered them, Ben. You offered them to your imaginary friend.”
Imaginary.
Ben’s flying. He’s flying off the bed and his palms are wide but his fingers are crooked in, ready to latch into his twin’s skin because how dare Alec. How dare Alec call the Lady anything but great and present. She’s real. She is. He knows she is. She helped them when they were sick. She helped them get out of Manticore. She helped them find Sam and Dean and it’s the greatest thing anyone’s ever done for him. Alec’s just mad because Ben wants to thank her by being right and good and not an amoral thief.
He smacks into a hard body, twists with it onto the floor. Dean. Dean’s arms are gripping him with as much strength as the man possesses and its just barely keeping Ben down as he fights and flails to get loose.
Alec finally allows an ashen-faced Sam to herd him into the bathroom, but he stops in the threshold and looks at Ben who is still all arms and legs and trying to get away. “I’ll...I’ll be in here, Ben. If you need me.”
The door closes and Alec’s not here anymore. Alec doesn’t want to be here unless he has to be here. Ben goes limp. His breathing is heavy and so is Dean’s. Dean’s chest is rising and falling and Ben’s balanced on him like a bottle on a rail just waiting to be shot.
“She’s real,” he says quietly. “I know she’s real.”
Sam scrubs a hand over his left eye and he doesn’t look at Ben. Sam can’t look at Ben because Ben’s an ugly, defective thing that nobody wants to look at anymore.
Dean’s arms have loosened around him, but neither of them move. They just stay on the floor. Ben keeps talking. “She’s real and she looks after me if I give her something in return.”
Dean shifts, hefts Ben up so he can sit upright. Ben tries to scramble off the man’s lap but Dean’s quick for someone lacking the X5 genetic code. Hands that don’t even seem tired grip him by the arms and haul him back. There’s heavy breath on Ben’s neck and it moves up to his ear, tickling it with it’s closeness. “Who looks after you?”
Ben blinks, wonders how Dean missed that entire conversation that just happened. “The Lady.”
Dean shakes his head back and forth just slightly and Ben feels the weight of the man’s chin drop onto his own head. “No, Benny. Who looks after you?” Ben’s hands are small. He realizes this as Dean picks them up in his own hands, rests them on his open palms. “I know you know this. You’re a genius. You couldn’t not know this.” Ben’s legs are short. Dean’s got his legs outstretched on the carpet and Ben’s legs are between Dean’s legs, his feet ending right where the man’s calves begin. Ben’s feet are small feet. Dean drops his head down, puts his cheek against the top of Ben’s head. The sides of his lips graze Ben’s temple when he repeats,“Who looks after you?”
“You do.”
“Who’s here? Who’s real?”
“You are, but she is-”
“She’s not real, Benny. You made her up and she made everything seem better. M’dad...nobody looked after me, either, when I was your age. I made up stories sometimes to make myself feel better, too. M’dad wasn’t ever as good as I made him out to be.” Ben’s face is sticky. He feels it and tries to wrench away, wants to swipe at his face, but Dean drops one of his hands first and trails a delicate fingertip down Ben’s cheek. “The things that are real are the things you can see.”
“Ghosts are real.” Ben’s voice is almost inaudible, but Dean hears him.
“And you can see them, can’t you? Most of the time.”
“Other people believe in her.”
“Ben?” Sam. Sam’s looking at him again. Sam’s getting on his knees next to them and he’s asking, “The book? That book I bought you...”
Ben takes in a hitching breath because he knows where this is going. “She...she was wrong.”
Sam closes his eyes. Dean doesn’t. Dean is gentle and unafraid. “You thought she was so you crossed everything out. Is that right? Her stories weren’t your stories.”
“She was wrong.”
“Only as wrong as you were. Only as wrong as anyone ever is. She couldn’t see the Lady, either.”
Ben hurts. Ben’s stomach hurts. Ben’s brain hurts. Ben’s shaking in Dean’s arms. “She...helped me get out of Manticore. We...we did the offering before we broke out.”
“And you didn’t all make it. You said. Alec said. You didn’t all make it.”
They didn’t all make it. Hardly any of them made it.
“She wasn’t looking after you, Benny. She was never looking after you.”
“She was,” Ben says, because he really wants it to be true. She was. She was there. He did it for Her. He was a good soldier and he executed the prisoner and he did it for Her.
“She wasn’t. She wasn’t looking after you. Nobody looked after you. You were scared and you were alone and then we came along.” There’s a hint of triumph in Dean's voice at the end of this sentence and Ben swallows the pain down his dry throat. Dean continues, “And now someone’s looking after you.”
Ben peers cautiously at Sam, who looks like he’s trying to collect his thoughts. “Sammy’s scared of me.” Sam flinches like a startled horse, looks at him with wide eyes and a quickly shaking head.
Dean snorts. “Sammy’s a big princess who doesn’t know how to control his reactions around his family. He was the baby, kid. He never had to.”
“Don’t call me the baby, Dean-”
“Shut your hole and tell ‘im you’re not scared of him.”
A gigantic hand runs over Ben’s hair. Sam’s eyes are all big and goopy and he admits, “I’m a little scared of you, Benny, but it’s only because you’re Dean’s clone.”
Ben turns his head away because he’s pretty sure Sam is full of lies.“You keep looking at me like I’m defective.”
Before he can so much as suck in a breath there are fingers gripping his hips and hauling him out from between Dean’s legs. Dean makes a sound of strangled indignation as 75 pounds of Ben gracelessly scrapes across his body.
Ben doesn’t get it. Sam’s smothering him and Ben doesn’t get it. He’s stuck on an even scale with the knowledge that Sam is an overly-affectionate monster who likes Ben just fine and the belief that Sam is trying to choke him to death.
“You are defective,” the tall man’s murmuring, and Ben feels like crying at the sound of the words. “But so m’I. All Winchesters are a little defective. It’s why we belong together.”
Dean nods and Ben feels a hand on his spine, sees another hand pat Sam’s head. “It’s true, Benny. We’re a weird fucking family. People did you wrong and you got a little twisted because of it, but that’s okay.”
“It is?” Ben’s not so sure.
“Yeah. It’s fine. We’re gonna make it okay again. There’s gonna be a rule about teeth, though. We leave them where they are, okay?”
Ben aches, but he says, “Okay.”
“I mean it, Benny. If I find anymore teeth, I’m going t’let Sam put you on his goddamn naughty bed and then m’gonna tickle you until you squeal.” Fingers dig into Ben’s side. He squeals. Dean’s voice goes serious. “You tell us if you feel like you’re not being looked after. We take care of that. Nobody else. You got me?”
It’s an order. It’s an order and Ben’s a good soldier.
“Yes, sir.”
It’s hard to penetrate the fog and pain of near-disillusionment in his head, but somewhere he feels a prick, and a light weight tips the scale in knowing’s favor.
*****
Their clothes are still at the laundromat. Sam breathes a sigh of relief and even says, “Thank fucking God” under his breath as Alec rests two hands on the edge of the washer and watches as the man yanks shirts and jeans and underwear out with zest.
“Ben’s fucked up, isn’t he?”
An older woman beside them is looking like Alec just offended her delicate sensibilities and Alec smiles brightly and waves at her. She spins on her heel and walks away in a huff. It’s pretty funny, really.
“Watch your language, Alec,” Sam tells him with a sigh. “And don’t wave at strangers.”
“But he is, isn’t he?” Alec persists. “He yanked some teeth out of a corpse. You’ve gotta think he’s a little fucked up.”
“Alec.” Sam doesn’t have much patience today. Alec can tell. The man shoves the last wet garment into their bag and and slams the washer shut, glares down at Alec with a hard gaze. “Watch your mouth.”
Alec doesn’t apologize. They’re not talking about appropriate language right now and Sam knows it. This is about Ben, and if its about Ben, then its about Alec. He stares at Sam until the guy finally sighs and stops looking like a harassed mother.
“There’s a park,” Sam says, trailing a hand down the center of his scalp, “a little down the road. You wanna go there? This...this isn’t a good place, Alec.”
Alec understands. They could be overheard and they don’t want to be overheard. They’re a strange little family that has conversations about strange things and they don’t want to be overheard.
“I want to go to the park, Sam.”
They go to the park. There’s a slide and some monkey bars and some kids still playing even though the sun’s almost set. Sam mumbles under his breath about parents who don’t know where their kids are.
“There’s a swing. You wanna swing?”
Alec doesn’t want to swing. He’s never actually swinged or swung or what-the-fuck-ever before, but he knows the last thing he wants to do right now is swing.
“Ben’s fucked up, isn’t he?” he asks again, and it’s not a question. It’s not a question at all. It’s a fact that he’s stating. Ben’s fucked up. Isn’t he, Sam?
“It...It’s going to be hard, Alec. It’s going to be hard for him for a while. We just need to look after him really well, okay?”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m nine, Sam.”
“But you are nine.”
Or ten. Alec is nine or ten and he keeps letting Sam and Dean call him nine because if that’s the way they want to see it, then fine. They want to see happy-eyed children alight with the innocence of the single digits and Alec wants to let them. Usually.
“No one at Manticore is nine. They don’t let us be nine.”
Sam reaches down a hand, squeezes Alec’s shoulder. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re not at Manticore, then, isn’t it?”
Alec’s moving unconsciously. He must be. He doesn’t know how his face suddenly became pillowed in Sam’s abdomen, but he’s pretty sure Sam didn’t do it. “I try not to be,” he says, his voice muffled against the tall Winchester’s shirt. “I try m’best not to be. Ben’s still there, sometimes. A lot of the time. I want it to leave him alone.” Sam’s fingers are warm and nimble, rubbing at the back of Alec’s neck. “It doesn’t ever leave him alone.”
It doesn’t. Alec tries really, really hard to make it go away but it won’t. It keeps following them in Ben’s stiff stance and his need to follow orders and the guns in the trunk of the Impala and the shots. The bullets. The bang bang bang of Dean shooting rock salt in a spirit’s face and the bodies in the graveyard and the solitary cell in Bobby’s basement. Bobby’s motherfucking basement.
There are kids hanging on the monkey bars and all Alec sees are soldiers in training and those giggles, those giggles aren’t allowed. They’re going to be punished for that, they better look out. They’ll be punished and it’ll never leave them, either. Alec tries his best but Ben’s still there and Alec’s still there and they can never get out.
“We can never get out.”
He doesn’t realize he’s talking. Sam leans down, though, and puts his forehead against Alec’s forehead and goddamn, does Sam have a big forehead.
“You are out. You’re out and you’re not going back.”
“They’re looking for us. They’re always going to be looking for us.”
“That’s fine. M’never gonna let them get you. We’re never gonna let them get you.”
They stand like that for a long time. There are still some streaks of pink and orange in the sky, but everything around them is cast in darkness. Sam straightens and asks him if he wants a piggy back ride back to the car.
Alec shakes his head. “No,” he replies. “Carry me. I’m feeling faint.” And he goes limp where he stands, trusts Sam to snatch him out of midair before he hits the ground. “Didja like that, Uncle Sammy? I acted just like you.”
“You know, the girl jokes just aren’t funny anymore,” Sam grunts, hoisting the boy into a comfortable position.
Alec snickers because sometimes Sam is just so silly. “Liar. They’ll never stop being funny.”
Sam exhales through his nose, sounds kind of like an angry bull, but he doesn’t reply. That’s fine. Alec likes Irate Sam, he’s a helluva guy. And he’s here and Alec’s here and here isn’t Manticore. Not for the moment, at least.
Alec tucks his nose into Sam’s neck and watches the playground fade into the distance as they make their way back to the Impala. His eyelids are drooping closed and he’s surprised at his own desire to sleep. They pass a young woman on a bench. She’s wearing dark glasses even though it’s too dark to see and Alec’s just wondering what kind of crazy person wears sunglasses at night when she lifts up her hand and waves at him. He smiles and returns the wave, thinking with a snort of Sam’s scolding in the laundromat. Don’t wave at strangers. Right.
“Sam?” he yawns. “How come some people wear sunglasses at night?”
“Hmm?”
“There was a lady wearing sunglasses. And its night.”
“Maybe she’s blind.”
“She didn’t have a stick. Or a dog.”
Alec’s body moves as Sam shrugs. “Maybe she’s a big Corey Hart fan and feels she’s gotta represent.”
“Who’s Corey Hart?”
Alec vibrates when Sam’s body rumbles with chuckles and the man says in a mocking tone, “Kid, I have so much to teach you” and Alec grins because he’s glad Sam mocks Dean sometimes when Dean’s not there to defend himself. Fair is fair, and Sam’s not all tiaras and bitchy looks, thank God. Sam is awesome because Dean is awesome. Alec knows this because Alec is awesome and Alec is Dean and Ben is Dean, too. So Ben is awesome. Ben is strange and fucked up and completely awesome and so are Alec and Sam and Dean.
“You’re awesome,” Alec tells Sam as the man tucks him into the back seat.
Sam looks surprised, and the smile that forms on his face is slow and sincere and Alec will never tell him this, but he finds it to be pretty beautiful.
“Thanks, kid. You’re awesome, too.”
They’re awesome. Sam gets into the driver’s seat and drives. They’re awesome and they’re going back to where Dean and Ben are. They’re going home.
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