HOME (part 1) chapters 9-14
9.
That night, Lisa and Dean were on the couch. She was curled up against him (Lisa still marveled a bit that this apparently nomadic guy with the hot car was happy to be wrapped up with her under a blanket on the couch). Dean said, "Um, I dropped my coffee cup this morning and it rolled under the bed....I went to get it and I found a shotgun under there...do you hunt deer or something?"
"No," Lisa responded, "I could never kill anything." She sighed.
Dean looked at her, trying not to look like he expected an explanation. But Lisa picked up on it anyway.
"After I threw Ben out, well, the house just seemed awfully lonely and quiet," Lisa started. "I'd be sitting on the couch at night and just kept thinking I saw something moving in the shadows; just out of the corner of my eye. I knew it was all in my head, but I just didn't feel safe. Sometimes I felt like I was being watched. So I decided to take a class."
"What kind of class?" asked Dean. "Self defense? Tae-kwon-do?"
"Firearms safety," Lisa responded. "It turns out I have a bit of a gift for it. Not to brag, but I was the best shot in the group," she smiled.
Dean smiled back. "Well, you are full of surprises," Dean said, pulling Lisa closer. "Should I be worried? Are you packing right now?" he teased. "I think I need to frisk you."
Lisa laughed and swatted at him. "I only have the old shotgun; it used to belong to my dad, but he only taught me how to clean it. Now that I know how to use it, I must say, I feel safer."
"Well, you don't have to worry about feeling safe; you have me." Dean abruptly stopped himself. Here he was, going on as if he was moving in and staying forever. He should not make promises he couldn't keep.
Lisa interrupted his thoughts as she looked at him with an intensity in her eyes that made Dean lose his train of thought. "I have never felt safer than I do with I'm with you." She laid her head on his chest.
Dean's throat tightened. That's all he ever wanted to provide for her. For everyone he loved; to keep them safe. He couldn't help but think to himself how ironic it was that she felt so safe with him when he knew that all he had ever done was endanger her and Ben with his line of work. At that moment, he knew this was not going to be a repeat of his perfect one-week stand he had when they first met. He could not, he would not walk away from this again.
Ever.
10.
Later that night there was a knock at the front door. "Lis', you expecting someone?" Dean called out.
"No!" came Lisa's voice from the back of the house. Dean drew his pistol and got up close to the door. He looked out through the sheer curtains and didn't recognize the guy standing there. He shoved the pistol in the back of his waistband and cautiously opened the door. "Can I help you?" he asked.
"Where's Lisa?" asked the fidgety 20-something guy who stood facing him.
"She's not here right now, she's..." Dean trailed off when the heard the distinctive cock of a shotgun behind him. He instinctively ducked, then turned and was shocked to see Lisa sighting down the barrel, directly at the guy on the porch. He fleetingly wondered if it was wrong of him to be more than a little turned on.
"Get the hell off my property, Trevor," Lisa said with a steely voice.
"Uh, I just need to talk to you," responded the guy on the porch, nervously.
"I think the lady asked you to leave," Dean stated firmly.
"Who the hell is he?", asked Trevor, pointing down at Dean.
"None of your business. Now get the hell out of my sight," Lisa said.
"Um, okay, I'll go, but I need to talk to you Lisa. I'll be back," Trevor said as he headed down the porch steps.
Dean closed the door. "Okay, what was that about?" he asked, more than a little concerned. "Were you really going to shoot that kid?"
"Of course not!" Lisa responded, lowering the shotgun. "He's a friend of Ben's. Trevor used to be a good kid, but got messed up with drugs. He tried to steal from us once when Ben had him over last year and I told him he was done with my family."
"What do you think he wanted?" asked Dean.
"Probably wanted to tell me that Ben needed money...it was probably a ploy to get something out of me, using Ben as an excuse. I'm telling you, Trevor is a master manipulator and I'm just not playing along anymore," Lisa said, her voice sounding tired.
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Outside, Trevor rounded the corner and took out his phone, "It's him. Winchester," he said as he walked.
The driver of the El Camino parked in the driveway next door heard every word.
11.
The next day, Dean was out in the driveway getting a shirt out of his bag in the trunk when he noticed he had a cracked taillight.
'Shit,' he thought, it's not like you can find replacement parts for a '67 just anywhere. Dean hated having anything broken on his car though. He knew it would eat at him if he didn't get it fixed.
He walked in through the kitchen door and called out, "Hey Lis’? I'm headed out for awhile; I need to pick up something for the car!" He started to head back to the driveway...he'd find something in town that might work for the taillight. Lisa ran out to stop him. "Wait!" she said, "you might want to try the salvage yard out on County Line Road." Lisa quietly added, "And you might run into Ben there."
Dean stopped.
"He works out there," Lisa continued. "If you want to meet him, it might be best to meet him without me around; unless you enjoy awkward family tension."
Dean pulled her close, "No, I think I'll skip the drama, but thanks for the heads-up." He kissed the top of her head before getting into the Impala and driving off. His stomach was doing small flips at the thought of running into Ben.
12.
It was a gorgeous fall day. Dean had all the windows down and the music blasting in no time, trying to take his mind off of where he was going and who he might see there. He thought about not going to the salvage yard, but now that he knew Ben was there, he was drawn to it like a magnet. As much as it scared the crap out of him.
Leaves flew as he roared down the 2-lane highway. He had not felt this good in, well, he couldn't remember when he last felt like this. Calm. Satisfied. No, he wasn't really in control of much right now, but somehow, that was okay. But what the hell was he going to say to Ben? He'd thought about it for seven years. He drove the ten miles to the edge of town and found the turn-off for the salvage yard.
Dean pulled in slowly. Old carcasses of cars were everywhere in relatively neat rows. Most were here to be used as parts cars. They looked as if they had been picked-over by vultures...an empty socket where a headlight used to be, a stripped hood, an entire side panel missing revealing the guts inside the door. But Dean didn't see that. He only saw the classic vehicles waiting to be saved. Funny. He couldn't help it. He was just built to want to save things. People. Cars. The world. No big deal. Now he was making himself smile. He knew he was just trying to put himself at ease because he was about to run into someone who rarely left his thoughts.
Dean entered the office to the smell of oil and gasoline. He loved that smell. There was a fat guy in a trucker hat and overalls quickly closing the window on his computer at the desk, trying to hide the fact he'd been surfing porn. Dean noticed and smiled to himself but decided not to embarrass the guy and kept his smart comments to himself this time.
"Uh, can I help you?" the guy asked.
"I'm looking for Ben. Ben Braeden," Dean said. Better to just face it. Finally.
The guy gestured towards the vast auto yard. "He's out there taking a lunch break...probably in his car. Just look for the black '69 Mustang that's not missing as many parts as everything else out there."
Dean thanked the guy and headed out the door.
He drove slowly through the rows of cars. He heard the Mustang before he saw it....Guns 'N' Roses blaring, windows down, a pair of feet sticking out the driver's window and the seat laid back. Dean shut off the Impala and walked up behind the car, knocking on the rear window. The guy was eating lunch; a cheeseburger and a Coke and, what the heck was he doing? He was reading. A book. The guy in the front seat jumped and quickly dropped the book onto the passenger seat.
"Dammit man, you almost scared the shit out of me!" said Ben. "What do you want?" he asked Dean.
Dean noticed the book on the passenger seat. A Brief History of Time. Stephen Hawking. Holy shit, this kid was smart.
"Uh, I have a broken taillight and was hoping you could help me find something to fix it," Dean said.
Ben got out of the driver's seat and stood up. His empty Coke can fell to the ground. He was taller than Dean. Dean hadn't expected that. His slightly long hair hung down into his green eyes and he pushed it back with his hand. 'Exactly the way Sam does,' Dean thought, and with a flash of clarity Dean realized that here, in this salvage yard, he was face-to-face with someone who appeared to be a perfect mix of himself, Sam, and Bobby. Bobby wasn't related by blood, but really, Ben had to be the only 19-year-old he'd seen recently reading an honest-to-God book instead of going around with his eyes glued to some electronic device. That was pure Bobby.
Dean realized that Ben was looking at him funny. "Is there something wrong?" Dean asked.
"I've seen you before," Ben said. "I just can't figure out where."
Dean flinched internally. He thought that if Lisa hadn't remembered him, Ben wouldn't either. He was caught off guard for the second time in as many minutes.
"You don't look familiar to me," Dean lied. Well, it wasn't a total lie. In fact he couldn't believe how different Ben looked from the last time he had seen him. Back then he was only 12. Now he was an adult.
"I think there's a '67 Bel Air over there....that will have the taillight you're looking for," said Ben as he headed down a row of old Chevys.
Dean let Ben get several yards ahead of him, and before he followed, he bent down and picked up the empty Coke can, slipping it into a plastic bag before tossing it into his duffle in the back seat of the Impala through the open rear window.
Ben found the car he was looking for and pulled a screwdriver out of his back pocket. He removed the taillight as if he had been working on cars his entire life. Dean smiled to himself. "Thanks man," Dean said.
"No problem," responded Ben. "Can I take this up to the office for you?" he asked.
"Nah, that's okay," said Dean. "Thanks for your help," he said and stuck out his hand.
'That's odd,’ thought Ben, 'why does he want to shake my hand? It was just one stupid taillight.' But he responded, reaching for Dean's hand. The handshake was surprisingly firm.
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Ben watched his customer walk towards the office and he turned to head back to his Mustang for the last few minutes of his lunch break. Why the hell did that guy look so familiar to him? He had out-of-state plates, so he wasn't from around here. He couldn't figure it out. He got back into his car and started to turn his attention back to his half-eaten cheeseburger when suddenly it hit him like a bolt. He heard the Impala's motor rumble to life in the parking lot next to the office. He couldn't explain why he felt such a sudden feeling of urgency, but he leapt out of his driver's seat and ran towards the sound of the engine.
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Dean had just put the Impala into gear; his foot hovered over the gas. He jumped at the sound of someone banging on sheet metal. Ben was standing next to his window pounding on the roof. He rolled down the window and before he could ask what he wanted, Ben practically yelled, "You're the guy!"
"I'm what guy?" Dean asked with reservation.
"You're the guy from the hospital," Ben insisted. Dean's heart felt like it might stop. It had obviously been a very bad idea to come out here.
"I'm sorry?" Dean was unsure how he'd get out of this one.
"Seven years ago," Ben continued, "my mom and I were in a car accident. She almost died. You were the one who hit us; you stopped by her hospital room to say you were sorry."
"That was you?" Dean tried with every ounce of strength to sound convincing. "Man, you were just a kid then!"
"Yeah, it was a long time ago," Ben agreed.
"You were at least a foot and half shorter than you are now," Dean tried to make casual conversation.
Ben's face clouded over slightly, "How could you know that?" he asked..."I was sitting down when you stopped at mom's room to apologize."
It was driven home to Dean how observant Ben was. He had always been that way. Dean realized he could probably never be careful enough not to slip up around him.
"Well, I mean, of course you grew a lot since then," Dean tried to backpedal. Ben seemed to relax a bit and the suspicious look left his face. "I never thought I'd have the chance to check in on you again," Dean said. That part was true. "How have you and your mom been?"
"That accident really messed my mom up," Ben said. He had no idea why he felt the need to tell this guy just how bad it had been. "I mean, she was okay physically after that puncture wound she got healed...I still can't figure out what the hell there was in the car that could have caused that..." Ben trailed off, then he realized Dean was waiting to hear the rest and continued. "But it's like her head wasn't right. She stopped working. She could barely get out of bed. Doctors told her it was depression and she was treated for that, but it took years before she started to seem like the person she was before the accident. It was weird," Ben continued, "she just said she felt like something was missing."
Dean didn't want to hear these details. They tore him up inside. As always, he had screwed up the life of someone he loved. But he couldn't stop listening. He felt he had to hear how bad it had been. HE had caused this. He should suffer.
Ben had been leaning on the Impala's driver side door. Dean grabbed his arm and looked into his eyes, which startled Ben for a moment. "I can't tell you how incredibly sorry I am that you and your mom had to go through that. I am so sorry that I did that to you." Ben was taken aback by Dean's intensity.
"Uh, well, thanks," Ben stammered. "I think she's doing much better now."
"You 'think'?" Dean questioned.
"Yeah, I don't see her that often. We kind of have different ideas about, well, about everything," Ben admitted.
Dean remembered what it was like when Sam and his dad didn't see eye-to-eye. It was World War III. He could imagine the fights between smart, observant Ben and strong-willed Lisa. In this way, Ben was no different from any other teenager.
"How have YOU been?," asked Dean, "Were you okay after the accident?"
"Yeah, I was really fine." answered Ben. "I didn't get hurt at all. There was one strange thing though."
'Strange?’ thought Dean. He really hadn't wanted any of the shitload of 'strange' from his own life infiltrating the lives of Lisa and Ben; not after he left. Not after he tried to let them go. "What do you mean 'strange'?" he asked.
"Well, maybe it's because mom was so messed up, but after the accident, I just didn't want to be home anymore. Something was missing. I knew it was our home, but it didn't feel like home." Ben looked at the ground, "I don't know why I'm telling you all of this, you must think I'm nuts".
Dean pulse quickened a bit.
"I don't think you're nuts," Dean said. "When serious shit like that happens, you never know how you’re going to take it." He wasn't quite sure what to say. "I'm just sorry you had to go through that." He meant those words down to his core.
"Thanks, man," Ben replied, suddenly, oddly, not wanting this conversation to end. Dean sensed his awkwardness.
"Hey," said Dean, "I know I can never make it up to you, but can I come by after work and we can grab a beer?" This wasn't about wanting to hang out with Ben, even though he very much wanted to hang out with Ben. He knew something had to be done.
"Well, they might not serve me," said Ben.
"Why not?" asked Dean.
"I lost my fake ID..." Ben admitted sheepishly.
"Oh, right," said Dean, "screw that; I'll bring the beer."
Ben smiled slightly. He had no idea why he wanted to agree to this...to share a drink with the guy who almost killed his mom. "Sure," he said. "I'm done around 6:00."
"Alright kid, see you then," said Dean as he put the Impala in drive. He saw Ben giving him a wave when he checked his rearview mirror.
Dean knew he was lucky that Ben and Lisa weren't talking right now. But he also knew what he had to do.
He silently sent up a call to Cas.
13.
After telling Lisa that he had to go meet up with Garth, and feeling horrible about lying to her, Dean drove back into the salvage yard as the setting sun washed the car carcasses in a golden fall light.
No wonder Ben liked it here. Dean thought the place was practically perfect...between the old cars and the way any salvage yard reminded him of Bobby, Dean could have gladly worked there if he had been lucky enough to have had a normal life.
No such luck.
Ben was locking up the office and walked easily over to the Impala. Dean smacked the top of the old green cooler in the back seat indicating he was all set.
"I'll just pull Mary into the garage bay and we're outta here," Ben said..."I don't like to leave her out."
'Mary?’ thought Dean. No way could that be a coincidence.
Moments later Ben was sliding into the Impala's passenger seat. "Dude, this is such a sweet ride," he couldn't help but gush a bit.
"She sure is," Dean replied. Having Ben over there, somewhat folded up in the passenger seat reminded Dean of Sam. But Ben appreciated the Impala, 'It's like Sam, but with taste,’ Dean thought, smiling to himself.
Still, he wondered where Sam was and how Sam was doing.
"So, where to?" Dean asked Ben.
"Let's head up the road," said Ben, "There's an old railroad bridge up there."
Dean wanted to show off a bit, so he revved the engine and roared out of the salvage yard parking lot, squealing the tires around the turn. Ben let out a whoop. Clearly, he was enjoying this. They drove into the dusk, AC/DC blaring, windows down.
Dean's phone rang. 'Not now,' thought Dean. He checked to see who it was...caller ID said "El Camino''. Dean gave Ben an apologetic look, but Ben waved his hand to let him know it was no big deal.
"Hey Garth," Dean answered the phone, "What's up with y…" Dean stopped suddenly when he heard a gunshot on the other end of the phone.
"Garth!?" Dean yelled urgently into the phone.
"Dean!" yelled Garth. Even though he was yelling, Garth sounded far away, his voice slightly faint, then the phone went silent.
Dean swerved to the side of the road. "Shit man, what are you..." Ben started to ask. Dean held up is hand, motioning for silence and got it.
Dean checked the GPS on his phone for Garth's location. "Do you know where Woodlawn Cemetery is?" Dean asked Ben. He could follow the GPS, but he needed to get there as quickly as possible and Ben was a local.
"Sure," said Ben, who suddenly wasn't sure about anything. Why would this guy want to go there? "Just take a right up here and..." Ben was thrown back into his seat as Dean hit the gas and took off "....go about eight miles," Ben finished; looking incredulously at Dean who was now roaring down the road at full speed. No wonder this guy almost killed him and his mom. He drove like a maniac. Ben was seriously wondering if he'd made a huge mistake getting into this guy's car in the first place. "Um," asked Ben cautiously, "why are we going to Woodlawn Cemetery?"
"My partner's in trouble," said Dean, staring straight ahead and never taking his eyes off the road. He was seriously regretting the fact that Ben was sitting next to him and now he was taking him into Lord-knows-what situation.
"Partner?" asked Ben. "Are you a cop?"
"Sort of," replied Dean. "Private investigator." It was easier to lie to Ben than Lisa.
"You can just let me off at the side of the road and I can walk back," Ben offered. He was definitely nervous.
"No time," replied Dean flatly. "Sorry kid, but you're going to have to come along for the ride. Just keep your head down and do what I say."
Ben nodded silently and held on as Dean took a corner at 50 miles per hour.
14.
The Impala skidded to a stop in front of Woodlawn's iron gates. It was almost dark and the golden light of sunset had turned to a cold blue cast over everything. Dean cut the engine but kept the headlights on. He saw a figure staggering towards the car. It wasn't Garth.
Dean stared straight ahead, never taking his eyes off the creature standing at edge of the circle of his headlights and moving closer.
"Ben," he said quietly, "don't make any fast moves. There's a pistol in the glove box. Get it out. Now. Don’t look down.”
Ben, eyes straight ahead, slowly reached down and unlatched the glove box. He felt around until he found the cool grip of the pistol which he slowly pulled out. A piece of paper fluttered to the floor, but he didn't notice.
"You see that thing up there?" asked Dean.
"Thing?" asked Ben, confused. "You mean that guy?" Ben squinted to get a better look.
"Yeah; that guy," said Dean...sure, let Ben think it was just a guy. "Keep the gun pointed at him and don't look away. Do you know how to shoot?" he asked. He had tried to keep guns out of Ben's hands for as long as he could remember, but now he hoped Ben had at least fired a pistol sometime during the last seven years.
"My friends and I used to go target shoot cans off the fence," Ben responded, looking at Dean.
"I said don't look away!" yelled Dean. Ben flinched and quickly trained his gaze back on the staggering figure. "Sorry," said Dean. "This is just important. I need to find my partner," he explained as he opened the driver's door.
"You're not leaving?!" said Ben incredulously.
"I have to," said Dean. "Keep your gun on that guy and if I can't stop him, you have to fire. Can you do that?" asked Dean.
"Yes, okay," said Ben. Suddenly calm in spite of the adrenaline. He took off the safety, keeping his eyes trained on the guy lurching towards the car.
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Dean quickly moved from the Impala to the sheltering trunk of a wide oak tree. He hadn't been sure what he was up against, but now that he was out of the car, he smelled that smell and he knew. It was a renevant. 'Shit, Garth,' he thought, 'how the hell did you get mixed up with this vengeful bastard?' Garth was nowhere to be seen or heard.
Dean's quick movement away from the car had the desired effect and the renevant caught sight of him.
Though Dean remained hidden behind the tree, he could tell by the intensifying smell and the sound of dragging shoes that it was getting closer. His instinct alone told him that it was maybe only about 30 feet away now.
Good thing he had good instincts.
He stepped out from behind the tree and fired a precise headshot. The monster collapsed as if someone had pulled the pins from his already-loose joints. It's rotting flesh seemed to pool and spread out on the ground as it ceased moving. Dean knew he had a limited amount of time. He had to behead the thing and burn it in order to keep it from rising again. But he was worried about Garth. He decided to take a chance that the pool of decaying flesh would still be there when he got back. He backed towards the Impala, keeping his eyes on the motionless monster the whole way.
"You still with me?" he asked Ben over his shoulder.
Ben was still holding the pistol pointed towards the spot where Dean had dropped the renevant.
"Yeah, uh, I'm okay...what the fuck is that smell?” Ben asked. "It's getting so dark, I couldn't see the guy. You fucking shot him!" Ben said as his temporary calm-in-a-crisis demeanor disappeared.
"He was coming at me," Dean said, defending his actions. "I had no choice."
"Well we need to call the cops," said Ben, taking out his phone. "We have to..."
"No!" said Dean calmly but forcefully. "Ben, put the phone away."
How had he known he had taken out his phone? He wasn't even looking at him. "But..." started Ben
"We have to find my partner first and make sure he's okay," Dean cut him off.
Ben didn't know if he should call the cops anyway, or take off running just to get the hell out of there, but somehow he found Dean's commanding tone comforting. None of this night was making sense, but if this guy's partner was in trouble, he might need some help.
"Okay, where do we start?" asked Ben.
Dean finally turned to look at him. Ben swore he looked, well, kind of proud.
"You've been here before, I take it?" asked Dean.
"Sure," said Ben, "my friends and I brought our girlfriends up here to scare them plenty of times." He said.
'Been there, done that,' thought Dean. "Do you know if there's a crypt...maybe an old one that's sort of falling in?"
'That's an odd question,' thought Ben. "Yeah; um, just up over the hill and to the right," he directed as he got out of the car and went to set the pistol on the seat.
"Better keep that with you," said Dean.
Ben's instinct was that this guy had no plans to harm him, as crazy as this night had been so far. If he HAD wanted to harm him, no way he'd suggest he carry a gun of his own....
Ben went to stick it in his waistband.
"For God's sake put the safety back on first!" admonished Dean.
"Oh, yeah, uh, sorry," stammered Ben.
Dean rolled his eyes to himself in the darkness; no way was he going to be in any way responsible for Ben shooting his own dick off. Dean grabbed a flashlight out of his bag in the trunk and headed off in the direction Ben indicated.
"What about?..." Ben trailed off as he looked in the direction where the renevant had fallen.
"We'll deal with that later," said Dean.
Ben followed. Glad to get away from the smell. ‘There must be a dead deer at the edge of the woods or something,' he thought.
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They reached the crypt and, just as Dean thought, it was in an older and more neglected area of the cemetery and the dome of the structure was starting to collapse. Renevants were vengeful and determined, but they weren't particularly physically strong and they couldn't just break their way out of a tomb. They couldn't just come back to life on their own either. Not without help.
Dean began looking through the tall grass and jumble of masonry from the crumbling tomb with his flashlight. At the very back corner of the structure he caught a flash of pale skin. He sprinted towards it.
"Garth...Garth...are you okay?" asked Dean as he shook Garth who was pale. But Garth was always pale....
Dean checked his pulse. Garth was breathing but not waking up. It was then that Dean saw a large gash on Garth's forehead. The blood was already drying.
Ben caught up. "This is your partner?" Ben didn't know quite what to make of this pale, skinny guy. It wasn't what he had expected to find.
"Yeah, it's him," said Dean with concern. "Can you help me get him back to the car?"
"Sure," responded Ben.
They half-carried, half-dragged Garth's minimal but dead weight back to the Impala. Dean made sure to give the puddle of what was left of the renevant a wide berth. Damn, he wished Sam were here to help him clean up this mess. How was he going to take care of this and not let Ben know what was really going on?
He'd have to come back and deal with the undead corpse later. He had to get Garth back to the motel and get Ben the hell out of here before he had a chance to get a better look at what Dean had shot. Good thing it was pitch dark now.
Ben shot Dean a look, "But what about..." he gestured towards the body in the road.
"I'll call the cops" lied Dean. "They know I'm in town working a case and I'll head down to the station once we get Garth settled and help them clear this whole thing up."
That sounded like the biggest lie ever to Ben. But a second later Dean was on his phone talking to the cops and telling them there had been an "incident" and he'd be at the station as soon as he could get there.
Of course Dean was talking to a dead line.
Next - chapters 15 - 18
That night, Lisa and Dean were on the couch. She was curled up against him (Lisa still marveled a bit that this apparently nomadic guy with the hot car was happy to be wrapped up with her under a blanket on the couch). Dean said, "Um, I dropped my coffee cup this morning and it rolled under the bed....I went to get it and I found a shotgun under there...do you hunt deer or something?"
"No," Lisa responded, "I could never kill anything." She sighed.
Dean looked at her, trying not to look like he expected an explanation. But Lisa picked up on it anyway.
"After I threw Ben out, well, the house just seemed awfully lonely and quiet," Lisa started. "I'd be sitting on the couch at night and just kept thinking I saw something moving in the shadows; just out of the corner of my eye. I knew it was all in my head, but I just didn't feel safe. Sometimes I felt like I was being watched. So I decided to take a class."
"What kind of class?" asked Dean. "Self defense? Tae-kwon-do?"
"Firearms safety," Lisa responded. "It turns out I have a bit of a gift for it. Not to brag, but I was the best shot in the group," she smiled.
Dean smiled back. "Well, you are full of surprises," Dean said, pulling Lisa closer. "Should I be worried? Are you packing right now?" he teased. "I think I need to frisk you."
Lisa laughed and swatted at him. "I only have the old shotgun; it used to belong to my dad, but he only taught me how to clean it. Now that I know how to use it, I must say, I feel safer."
"Well, you don't have to worry about feeling safe; you have me." Dean abruptly stopped himself. Here he was, going on as if he was moving in and staying forever. He should not make promises he couldn't keep.
Lisa interrupted his thoughts as she looked at him with an intensity in her eyes that made Dean lose his train of thought. "I have never felt safer than I do with I'm with you." She laid her head on his chest.
Dean's throat tightened. That's all he ever wanted to provide for her. For everyone he loved; to keep them safe. He couldn't help but think to himself how ironic it was that she felt so safe with him when he knew that all he had ever done was endanger her and Ben with his line of work. At that moment, he knew this was not going to be a repeat of his perfect one-week stand he had when they first met. He could not, he would not walk away from this again.
Ever.
10.
Later that night there was a knock at the front door. "Lis', you expecting someone?" Dean called out.
"No!" came Lisa's voice from the back of the house. Dean drew his pistol and got up close to the door. He looked out through the sheer curtains and didn't recognize the guy standing there. He shoved the pistol in the back of his waistband and cautiously opened the door. "Can I help you?" he asked.
"Where's Lisa?" asked the fidgety 20-something guy who stood facing him.
"She's not here right now, she's..." Dean trailed off when the heard the distinctive cock of a shotgun behind him. He instinctively ducked, then turned and was shocked to see Lisa sighting down the barrel, directly at the guy on the porch. He fleetingly wondered if it was wrong of him to be more than a little turned on.
"Get the hell off my property, Trevor," Lisa said with a steely voice.
"Uh, I just need to talk to you," responded the guy on the porch, nervously.
"I think the lady asked you to leave," Dean stated firmly.
"Who the hell is he?", asked Trevor, pointing down at Dean.
"None of your business. Now get the hell out of my sight," Lisa said.
"Um, okay, I'll go, but I need to talk to you Lisa. I'll be back," Trevor said as he headed down the porch steps.
Dean closed the door. "Okay, what was that about?" he asked, more than a little concerned. "Were you really going to shoot that kid?"
"Of course not!" Lisa responded, lowering the shotgun. "He's a friend of Ben's. Trevor used to be a good kid, but got messed up with drugs. He tried to steal from us once when Ben had him over last year and I told him he was done with my family."
"What do you think he wanted?" asked Dean.
"Probably wanted to tell me that Ben needed money...it was probably a ploy to get something out of me, using Ben as an excuse. I'm telling you, Trevor is a master manipulator and I'm just not playing along anymore," Lisa said, her voice sounding tired.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Outside, Trevor rounded the corner and took out his phone, "It's him. Winchester," he said as he walked.
The driver of the El Camino parked in the driveway next door heard every word.
11.
The next day, Dean was out in the driveway getting a shirt out of his bag in the trunk when he noticed he had a cracked taillight.
'Shit,' he thought, it's not like you can find replacement parts for a '67 just anywhere. Dean hated having anything broken on his car though. He knew it would eat at him if he didn't get it fixed.
He walked in through the kitchen door and called out, "Hey Lis’? I'm headed out for awhile; I need to pick up something for the car!" He started to head back to the driveway...he'd find something in town that might work for the taillight. Lisa ran out to stop him. "Wait!" she said, "you might want to try the salvage yard out on County Line Road." Lisa quietly added, "And you might run into Ben there."
Dean stopped.
"He works out there," Lisa continued. "If you want to meet him, it might be best to meet him without me around; unless you enjoy awkward family tension."
Dean pulled her close, "No, I think I'll skip the drama, but thanks for the heads-up." He kissed the top of her head before getting into the Impala and driving off. His stomach was doing small flips at the thought of running into Ben.
12.
It was a gorgeous fall day. Dean had all the windows down and the music blasting in no time, trying to take his mind off of where he was going and who he might see there. He thought about not going to the salvage yard, but now that he knew Ben was there, he was drawn to it like a magnet. As much as it scared the crap out of him.
Leaves flew as he roared down the 2-lane highway. He had not felt this good in, well, he couldn't remember when he last felt like this. Calm. Satisfied. No, he wasn't really in control of much right now, but somehow, that was okay. But what the hell was he going to say to Ben? He'd thought about it for seven years. He drove the ten miles to the edge of town and found the turn-off for the salvage yard.
Dean pulled in slowly. Old carcasses of cars were everywhere in relatively neat rows. Most were here to be used as parts cars. They looked as if they had been picked-over by vultures...an empty socket where a headlight used to be, a stripped hood, an entire side panel missing revealing the guts inside the door. But Dean didn't see that. He only saw the classic vehicles waiting to be saved. Funny. He couldn't help it. He was just built to want to save things. People. Cars. The world. No big deal. Now he was making himself smile. He knew he was just trying to put himself at ease because he was about to run into someone who rarely left his thoughts.
Dean entered the office to the smell of oil and gasoline. He loved that smell. There was a fat guy in a trucker hat and overalls quickly closing the window on his computer at the desk, trying to hide the fact he'd been surfing porn. Dean noticed and smiled to himself but decided not to embarrass the guy and kept his smart comments to himself this time.
"Uh, can I help you?" the guy asked.
"I'm looking for Ben. Ben Braeden," Dean said. Better to just face it. Finally.
The guy gestured towards the vast auto yard. "He's out there taking a lunch break...probably in his car. Just look for the black '69 Mustang that's not missing as many parts as everything else out there."
Dean thanked the guy and headed out the door.
He drove slowly through the rows of cars. He heard the Mustang before he saw it....Guns 'N' Roses blaring, windows down, a pair of feet sticking out the driver's window and the seat laid back. Dean shut off the Impala and walked up behind the car, knocking on the rear window. The guy was eating lunch; a cheeseburger and a Coke and, what the heck was he doing? He was reading. A book. The guy in the front seat jumped and quickly dropped the book onto the passenger seat.
"Dammit man, you almost scared the shit out of me!" said Ben. "What do you want?" he asked Dean.
Dean noticed the book on the passenger seat. A Brief History of Time. Stephen Hawking. Holy shit, this kid was smart.
"Uh, I have a broken taillight and was hoping you could help me find something to fix it," Dean said.
Ben got out of the driver's seat and stood up. His empty Coke can fell to the ground. He was taller than Dean. Dean hadn't expected that. His slightly long hair hung down into his green eyes and he pushed it back with his hand. 'Exactly the way Sam does,' Dean thought, and with a flash of clarity Dean realized that here, in this salvage yard, he was face-to-face with someone who appeared to be a perfect mix of himself, Sam, and Bobby. Bobby wasn't related by blood, but really, Ben had to be the only 19-year-old he'd seen recently reading an honest-to-God book instead of going around with his eyes glued to some electronic device. That was pure Bobby.
Dean realized that Ben was looking at him funny. "Is there something wrong?" Dean asked.
"I've seen you before," Ben said. "I just can't figure out where."
Dean flinched internally. He thought that if Lisa hadn't remembered him, Ben wouldn't either. He was caught off guard for the second time in as many minutes.
"You don't look familiar to me," Dean lied. Well, it wasn't a total lie. In fact he couldn't believe how different Ben looked from the last time he had seen him. Back then he was only 12. Now he was an adult.
"I think there's a '67 Bel Air over there....that will have the taillight you're looking for," said Ben as he headed down a row of old Chevys.
Dean let Ben get several yards ahead of him, and before he followed, he bent down and picked up the empty Coke can, slipping it into a plastic bag before tossing it into his duffle in the back seat of the Impala through the open rear window.
Ben found the car he was looking for and pulled a screwdriver out of his back pocket. He removed the taillight as if he had been working on cars his entire life. Dean smiled to himself. "Thanks man," Dean said.
"No problem," responded Ben. "Can I take this up to the office for you?" he asked.
"Nah, that's okay," said Dean. "Thanks for your help," he said and stuck out his hand.
'That's odd,’ thought Ben, 'why does he want to shake my hand? It was just one stupid taillight.' But he responded, reaching for Dean's hand. The handshake was surprisingly firm.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ben watched his customer walk towards the office and he turned to head back to his Mustang for the last few minutes of his lunch break. Why the hell did that guy look so familiar to him? He had out-of-state plates, so he wasn't from around here. He couldn't figure it out. He got back into his car and started to turn his attention back to his half-eaten cheeseburger when suddenly it hit him like a bolt. He heard the Impala's motor rumble to life in the parking lot next to the office. He couldn't explain why he felt such a sudden feeling of urgency, but he leapt out of his driver's seat and ran towards the sound of the engine.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dean had just put the Impala into gear; his foot hovered over the gas. He jumped at the sound of someone banging on sheet metal. Ben was standing next to his window pounding on the roof. He rolled down the window and before he could ask what he wanted, Ben practically yelled, "You're the guy!"
"I'm what guy?" Dean asked with reservation.
"You're the guy from the hospital," Ben insisted. Dean's heart felt like it might stop. It had obviously been a very bad idea to come out here.
"I'm sorry?" Dean was unsure how he'd get out of this one.
"Seven years ago," Ben continued, "my mom and I were in a car accident. She almost died. You were the one who hit us; you stopped by her hospital room to say you were sorry."
"That was you?" Dean tried with every ounce of strength to sound convincing. "Man, you were just a kid then!"
"Yeah, it was a long time ago," Ben agreed.
"You were at least a foot and half shorter than you are now," Dean tried to make casual conversation.
Ben's face clouded over slightly, "How could you know that?" he asked..."I was sitting down when you stopped at mom's room to apologize."
It was driven home to Dean how observant Ben was. He had always been that way. Dean realized he could probably never be careful enough not to slip up around him.
"Well, I mean, of course you grew a lot since then," Dean tried to backpedal. Ben seemed to relax a bit and the suspicious look left his face. "I never thought I'd have the chance to check in on you again," Dean said. That part was true. "How have you and your mom been?"
"That accident really messed my mom up," Ben said. He had no idea why he felt the need to tell this guy just how bad it had been. "I mean, she was okay physically after that puncture wound she got healed...I still can't figure out what the hell there was in the car that could have caused that..." Ben trailed off, then he realized Dean was waiting to hear the rest and continued. "But it's like her head wasn't right. She stopped working. She could barely get out of bed. Doctors told her it was depression and she was treated for that, but it took years before she started to seem like the person she was before the accident. It was weird," Ben continued, "she just said she felt like something was missing."
Dean didn't want to hear these details. They tore him up inside. As always, he had screwed up the life of someone he loved. But he couldn't stop listening. He felt he had to hear how bad it had been. HE had caused this. He should suffer.
Ben had been leaning on the Impala's driver side door. Dean grabbed his arm and looked into his eyes, which startled Ben for a moment. "I can't tell you how incredibly sorry I am that you and your mom had to go through that. I am so sorry that I did that to you." Ben was taken aback by Dean's intensity.
"Uh, well, thanks," Ben stammered. "I think she's doing much better now."
"You 'think'?" Dean questioned.
"Yeah, I don't see her that often. We kind of have different ideas about, well, about everything," Ben admitted.
Dean remembered what it was like when Sam and his dad didn't see eye-to-eye. It was World War III. He could imagine the fights between smart, observant Ben and strong-willed Lisa. In this way, Ben was no different from any other teenager.
"How have YOU been?," asked Dean, "Were you okay after the accident?"
"Yeah, I was really fine." answered Ben. "I didn't get hurt at all. There was one strange thing though."
'Strange?’ thought Dean. He really hadn't wanted any of the shitload of 'strange' from his own life infiltrating the lives of Lisa and Ben; not after he left. Not after he tried to let them go. "What do you mean 'strange'?" he asked.
"Well, maybe it's because mom was so messed up, but after the accident, I just didn't want to be home anymore. Something was missing. I knew it was our home, but it didn't feel like home." Ben looked at the ground, "I don't know why I'm telling you all of this, you must think I'm nuts".
Dean pulse quickened a bit.
"I don't think you're nuts," Dean said. "When serious shit like that happens, you never know how you’re going to take it." He wasn't quite sure what to say. "I'm just sorry you had to go through that." He meant those words down to his core.
"Thanks, man," Ben replied, suddenly, oddly, not wanting this conversation to end. Dean sensed his awkwardness.
"Hey," said Dean, "I know I can never make it up to you, but can I come by after work and we can grab a beer?" This wasn't about wanting to hang out with Ben, even though he very much wanted to hang out with Ben. He knew something had to be done.
"Well, they might not serve me," said Ben.
"Why not?" asked Dean.
"I lost my fake ID..." Ben admitted sheepishly.
"Oh, right," said Dean, "screw that; I'll bring the beer."
Ben smiled slightly. He had no idea why he wanted to agree to this...to share a drink with the guy who almost killed his mom. "Sure," he said. "I'm done around 6:00."
"Alright kid, see you then," said Dean as he put the Impala in drive. He saw Ben giving him a wave when he checked his rearview mirror.
Dean knew he was lucky that Ben and Lisa weren't talking right now. But he also knew what he had to do.
He silently sent up a call to Cas.
13.
After telling Lisa that he had to go meet up with Garth, and feeling horrible about lying to her, Dean drove back into the salvage yard as the setting sun washed the car carcasses in a golden fall light.
No wonder Ben liked it here. Dean thought the place was practically perfect...between the old cars and the way any salvage yard reminded him of Bobby, Dean could have gladly worked there if he had been lucky enough to have had a normal life.
No such luck.
Ben was locking up the office and walked easily over to the Impala. Dean smacked the top of the old green cooler in the back seat indicating he was all set.
"I'll just pull Mary into the garage bay and we're outta here," Ben said..."I don't like to leave her out."
'Mary?’ thought Dean. No way could that be a coincidence.
Moments later Ben was sliding into the Impala's passenger seat. "Dude, this is such a sweet ride," he couldn't help but gush a bit.
"She sure is," Dean replied. Having Ben over there, somewhat folded up in the passenger seat reminded Dean of Sam. But Ben appreciated the Impala, 'It's like Sam, but with taste,’ Dean thought, smiling to himself.
Still, he wondered where Sam was and how Sam was doing.
"So, where to?" Dean asked Ben.
"Let's head up the road," said Ben, "There's an old railroad bridge up there."
Dean wanted to show off a bit, so he revved the engine and roared out of the salvage yard parking lot, squealing the tires around the turn. Ben let out a whoop. Clearly, he was enjoying this. They drove into the dusk, AC/DC blaring, windows down.
Dean's phone rang. 'Not now,' thought Dean. He checked to see who it was...caller ID said "El Camino''. Dean gave Ben an apologetic look, but Ben waved his hand to let him know it was no big deal.
"Hey Garth," Dean answered the phone, "What's up with y…" Dean stopped suddenly when he heard a gunshot on the other end of the phone.
"Garth!?" Dean yelled urgently into the phone.
"Dean!" yelled Garth. Even though he was yelling, Garth sounded far away, his voice slightly faint, then the phone went silent.
Dean swerved to the side of the road. "Shit man, what are you..." Ben started to ask. Dean held up is hand, motioning for silence and got it.
Dean checked the GPS on his phone for Garth's location. "Do you know where Woodlawn Cemetery is?" Dean asked Ben. He could follow the GPS, but he needed to get there as quickly as possible and Ben was a local.
"Sure," said Ben, who suddenly wasn't sure about anything. Why would this guy want to go there? "Just take a right up here and..." Ben was thrown back into his seat as Dean hit the gas and took off "....go about eight miles," Ben finished; looking incredulously at Dean who was now roaring down the road at full speed. No wonder this guy almost killed him and his mom. He drove like a maniac. Ben was seriously wondering if he'd made a huge mistake getting into this guy's car in the first place. "Um," asked Ben cautiously, "why are we going to Woodlawn Cemetery?"
"My partner's in trouble," said Dean, staring straight ahead and never taking his eyes off the road. He was seriously regretting the fact that Ben was sitting next to him and now he was taking him into Lord-knows-what situation.
"Partner?" asked Ben. "Are you a cop?"
"Sort of," replied Dean. "Private investigator." It was easier to lie to Ben than Lisa.
"You can just let me off at the side of the road and I can walk back," Ben offered. He was definitely nervous.
"No time," replied Dean flatly. "Sorry kid, but you're going to have to come along for the ride. Just keep your head down and do what I say."
Ben nodded silently and held on as Dean took a corner at 50 miles per hour.
14.
The Impala skidded to a stop in front of Woodlawn's iron gates. It was almost dark and the golden light of sunset had turned to a cold blue cast over everything. Dean cut the engine but kept the headlights on. He saw a figure staggering towards the car. It wasn't Garth.
Dean stared straight ahead, never taking his eyes off the creature standing at edge of the circle of his headlights and moving closer.
"Ben," he said quietly, "don't make any fast moves. There's a pistol in the glove box. Get it out. Now. Don’t look down.”
Ben, eyes straight ahead, slowly reached down and unlatched the glove box. He felt around until he found the cool grip of the pistol which he slowly pulled out. A piece of paper fluttered to the floor, but he didn't notice.
"You see that thing up there?" asked Dean.
"Thing?" asked Ben, confused. "You mean that guy?" Ben squinted to get a better look.
"Yeah; that guy," said Dean...sure, let Ben think it was just a guy. "Keep the gun pointed at him and don't look away. Do you know how to shoot?" he asked. He had tried to keep guns out of Ben's hands for as long as he could remember, but now he hoped Ben had at least fired a pistol sometime during the last seven years.
"My friends and I used to go target shoot cans off the fence," Ben responded, looking at Dean.
"I said don't look away!" yelled Dean. Ben flinched and quickly trained his gaze back on the staggering figure. "Sorry," said Dean. "This is just important. I need to find my partner," he explained as he opened the driver's door.
"You're not leaving?!" said Ben incredulously.
"I have to," said Dean. "Keep your gun on that guy and if I can't stop him, you have to fire. Can you do that?" asked Dean.
"Yes, okay," said Ben. Suddenly calm in spite of the adrenaline. He took off the safety, keeping his eyes trained on the guy lurching towards the car.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dean quickly moved from the Impala to the sheltering trunk of a wide oak tree. He hadn't been sure what he was up against, but now that he was out of the car, he smelled that smell and he knew. It was a renevant. 'Shit, Garth,' he thought, 'how the hell did you get mixed up with this vengeful bastard?' Garth was nowhere to be seen or heard.
Dean's quick movement away from the car had the desired effect and the renevant caught sight of him.
Though Dean remained hidden behind the tree, he could tell by the intensifying smell and the sound of dragging shoes that it was getting closer. His instinct alone told him that it was maybe only about 30 feet away now.
Good thing he had good instincts.
He stepped out from behind the tree and fired a precise headshot. The monster collapsed as if someone had pulled the pins from his already-loose joints. It's rotting flesh seemed to pool and spread out on the ground as it ceased moving. Dean knew he had a limited amount of time. He had to behead the thing and burn it in order to keep it from rising again. But he was worried about Garth. He decided to take a chance that the pool of decaying flesh would still be there when he got back. He backed towards the Impala, keeping his eyes on the motionless monster the whole way.
"You still with me?" he asked Ben over his shoulder.
Ben was still holding the pistol pointed towards the spot where Dean had dropped the renevant.
"Yeah, uh, I'm okay...what the fuck is that smell?” Ben asked. "It's getting so dark, I couldn't see the guy. You fucking shot him!" Ben said as his temporary calm-in-a-crisis demeanor disappeared.
"He was coming at me," Dean said, defending his actions. "I had no choice."
"Well we need to call the cops," said Ben, taking out his phone. "We have to..."
"No!" said Dean calmly but forcefully. "Ben, put the phone away."
How had he known he had taken out his phone? He wasn't even looking at him. "But..." started Ben
"We have to find my partner first and make sure he's okay," Dean cut him off.
Ben didn't know if he should call the cops anyway, or take off running just to get the hell out of there, but somehow he found Dean's commanding tone comforting. None of this night was making sense, but if this guy's partner was in trouble, he might need some help.
"Okay, where do we start?" asked Ben.
Dean finally turned to look at him. Ben swore he looked, well, kind of proud.
"You've been here before, I take it?" asked Dean.
"Sure," said Ben, "my friends and I brought our girlfriends up here to scare them plenty of times." He said.
'Been there, done that,' thought Dean. "Do you know if there's a crypt...maybe an old one that's sort of falling in?"
'That's an odd question,' thought Ben. "Yeah; um, just up over the hill and to the right," he directed as he got out of the car and went to set the pistol on the seat.
"Better keep that with you," said Dean.
Ben's instinct was that this guy had no plans to harm him, as crazy as this night had been so far. If he HAD wanted to harm him, no way he'd suggest he carry a gun of his own....
Ben went to stick it in his waistband.
"For God's sake put the safety back on first!" admonished Dean.
"Oh, yeah, uh, sorry," stammered Ben.
Dean rolled his eyes to himself in the darkness; no way was he going to be in any way responsible for Ben shooting his own dick off. Dean grabbed a flashlight out of his bag in the trunk and headed off in the direction Ben indicated.
"What about?..." Ben trailed off as he looked in the direction where the renevant had fallen.
"We'll deal with that later," said Dean.
Ben followed. Glad to get away from the smell. ‘There must be a dead deer at the edge of the woods or something,' he thought.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They reached the crypt and, just as Dean thought, it was in an older and more neglected area of the cemetery and the dome of the structure was starting to collapse. Renevants were vengeful and determined, but they weren't particularly physically strong and they couldn't just break their way out of a tomb. They couldn't just come back to life on their own either. Not without help.
Dean began looking through the tall grass and jumble of masonry from the crumbling tomb with his flashlight. At the very back corner of the structure he caught a flash of pale skin. He sprinted towards it.
"Garth...Garth...are you okay?" asked Dean as he shook Garth who was pale. But Garth was always pale....
Dean checked his pulse. Garth was breathing but not waking up. It was then that Dean saw a large gash on Garth's forehead. The blood was already drying.
Ben caught up. "This is your partner?" Ben didn't know quite what to make of this pale, skinny guy. It wasn't what he had expected to find.
"Yeah, it's him," said Dean with concern. "Can you help me get him back to the car?"
"Sure," responded Ben.
They half-carried, half-dragged Garth's minimal but dead weight back to the Impala. Dean made sure to give the puddle of what was left of the renevant a wide berth. Damn, he wished Sam were here to help him clean up this mess. How was he going to take care of this and not let Ben know what was really going on?
He'd have to come back and deal with the undead corpse later. He had to get Garth back to the motel and get Ben the hell out of here before he had a chance to get a better look at what Dean had shot. Good thing it was pitch dark now.
Ben shot Dean a look, "But what about..." he gestured towards the body in the road.
"I'll call the cops" lied Dean. "They know I'm in town working a case and I'll head down to the station once we get Garth settled and help them clear this whole thing up."
That sounded like the biggest lie ever to Ben. But a second later Dean was on his phone talking to the cops and telling them there had been an "incident" and he'd be at the station as soon as he could get there.
Of course Dean was talking to a dead line.
Next - chapters 15 - 18