The Father Speaks In The Son
Title: The Father Speaks in the Son
Genre: Gen PG 13 for language
Characters: John, Dean, Sam and Ben.
Summary: A thirteen year old boy, a demon, and the journey of a lifetime. Protection, love and family comes in many forms. Is grand theft auto genetic?
A/N 1: Special thanks to the amazing tiggeratl1whose incredible artwork turned a fic, into a work of art. Also too, she deserves accolades for cheerleading….she probably has carpal tunnel from all the pom-pom waving and hand holding. As usual, thanks to the gaelicspiritwithout whom I would never have been able to finish this. She is a great beta and a wonderful friend.
“By the time a man realizes that maybe his father was right, he usually has a son who thinks he’s wrong.” - Charles Wadsworth
Ben followed John through the woods. John moved silently and effortlessly; Ben on the other hand sounded like a wounded wild pig. Ben berated himself for his lack of woodsman ability but then quieted his internal monologue with the fact that John was in fact a ghost and as such, could probably move quietly as a damn ghost. But Ben wasn’t sure if John was a ghost either.
Could ghosts unlock doors and carry people around? Ben wasn’t sure - Dean didn’t explain a whole lot to him but whatever John was, hallucination, ghost or simply dead man walking, he appeared to be pretty solid and real - at least to Ben. Which started Ben thinking, could other people see John? He pondered it for a moment and then figured why not go to the horse’s mouth?
“Can other people see you, John?”
John continued his forward momentum. “I’m not quite sure. If we are connected some way, well, I’m pretty sure they can see me. You see and hear and interact with me just fine. The staff at the hospital? They didn’t seem to notice me at all. I’m pretty sure I can interact with Sam and Dean, too. Maybe it’s a genetic connection?”
“For someone who is supposed to be helping me out, you don’t know many answers.”
John paused a moment. “You’ve got a smart mouth.”
“I’ve been told that before.”
John grunted a noise that Ben couldn’t decipher. Clearly, despite his time with Dean, he was not well versed in Winchester.
“So, what next?” Ben asked.
“Find a car, hot wire it, and get to Sam and Dean.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It is easy - I can help you. You need to find Dean. It’s not safe for you on your own and if Dean had thought this shit through, he would have realized it could have come to this. He was thinking with his heart. He wanted to keep you safe. It backfired.”
“I don’t understand, John.”
“Look Ben, I’ll try to fill you in, but right now, I need to get you in a car heading to Dean not debating the issue.”
Ben stopped then. “Look, John. I’m trying my best here. I’m following a ghostly grandfather through the woods after breaking out of a crazy hospital, heading toward what looks like a life of crime. Throw me a bone, will ya?”
John stopped and turned toward Ben. He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair.
“Look kid, you are not crazy. If you can remember Dean now, you can remember that he was a hunter. Is a hunter. You know what he hunts. And the things he hunts? They got your mom and they are trying to get you. The demon that was in your house? One of the lowest on the totem pole, but somehow it found you. I hate to throw it out there so bluntly but we don’t have time for a debrief before we’ve even gotten started.
“You need to come with me. You need to listen to what I tell you and you need to follow my orders. You need to work with me, son, because I don’t know how I can protect you and I don’t know how long I’m even going to be here. But trust me. I’m John Winchester, father to Sam and Dean Winchester and grandfather to Ben Braeden. Despite the last name, you are a Winchester and my blood runs through your veins. That’s why I can connect with you. But none of it will matter if I can’t get you to Dean. Do you understand?”
Ben nodded dumbly.
“Answer me, kid.” John’s voice was low.
“Yes, I understand.”
“Good. Let’s hustle; we have places to be before daylight.”
It turned out that Ben had a flair for hot-wiring a car. Is grand theft auto genetic? He wanted to pick out a sporty Mustang. Ben figured if he was going to steal a car it might as well be a fun car. John ignored him and pushed him toward a 1998 Ford truck with so much rust on it that Ben was quite sure he’d be peddling like the Flintstones before they got half way to their destination.
Ben amended it in his head.
Unknown destination.
Because wherever John was taking them, he didn’t feel the need to share with the class. In Ben’s somewhat limited experience, John neither explained himself very well nor took the time to bother. Oh, he explained exactly how to hot wire the truck and nodded approvingly at how quickly Ben did it. He also appeared to be somewhat okay with Ben’s driving ability. Although he did close his eyes a time or two and the only real direction he gave was stay under the speed limit.
It was as if he was comfortable with the thought of a thirteen-year old boy without a license driving them on the interstate. Ben was suddenly grateful for the few inches he’d grown in the past year. Despite Dean’s ascertains to the contrary, just reaching the pedals did not a great driver make. Being able to look the part helped a bit too. Sometimes John told Ben to pull off and go a back road. Ben didn’t know why and John didn’t elaborate. Ben had given up trying to get information from him.
Finally though, maybe three hours into the drive Ben balked at John’s next direction.
“I wanna stop John, gotta take a whiz.”
John turned to Ben and quirked his head as if pissing was something he hadn’t thought of.
“Pull over on the side, kid. Do it quick.”
Ben sulked a bit but pulled over, stepped into knee high grass and pissed like a racehorse. He shook off, tucked back in and turned toward the truck to see John leaning against it, hip near the tailgate. He headed toward him then, a little slowly, trying to enjoy the movement outside of the truck.
“So, I guess you might be hungry too.” John sounded a little irritated; as if bodily functions were something he hadn’t anticipated.
“Nah, I’m good for a bit.”
John looked him over hard in the early morning light.
“You look a little rough kid. I think you need to eat.”
“Yeah, well I’ve been in the nut house for a month or so and they don’t offer sunlamps. The food sucked and I barely slept thanks to my dream grandfather who kept me awake most of the night.”
John smiled. “Point taken. Still, I say let’s put a few more miles behind us, get breakfast somewhere, change cars and then hit the road till we can find a place to sleep tonight.”
Ben sighed. “I’m kinda broke.”
John looked off over the side of the road. “Yeah, that’s a problem. How good are you at running a con?”
Ben’s introduction to petty thievery was pretty rudimentary. Order breakfast at a busy dinner then leave and don’t pay.
It was risky but there was nothing to be done. Ben was hungry and they had no money.
Again, it was as if John hadn’t thought about it. Ben bitched to him after the sprint to the truck.
“You know for someone who doesn’t want to share the game plan, the game plan we appear to be playing has a lot of holes in it.”
John grunted from the passenger seat. “Yeah, well, I’ve been off the grid for a few years. I don’t eat, I don’t sleep and yeah, I should’ve remembered that all teenage boys do is eat and sleep unless you make them do something else.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means…,”John seemed to censor himself, ”…it means, I’m sorry. I need to work a little harder to remind myself of who you are and what I am. I need to figure some shit out - like money. Things were different when I was alive. I had funds to use, or ways to scam. The boys were brought up in the life and they could work a con as easy as me.” John continued. “And I wasn’t dead. Dead means no credit, no driver’s license no nothing, except that you can see me and no one else can. Apparently. So I have to figure this out.”
Ben glanced at John as he carefully merged the truck onto the interstate.
“Oh, so maybe the great John Winchester didn’t think things through carefully?”
“Keep your eyes on the road.”
“Did I hit a sore spot?”
“Jesus kid, how did you make it to thirteen without somebody knocking some sense in your head?”
Ben grinned, “I’m adorable. Besides - in this case, I’m right. “
John grimaced from the passenger seat, “Well, shit started happening faster than I anticipated. I’ll give you that. I wasn’t expecting this now. I thought I had more time. Pushing a timeline ahead like this…it’s never a good idea. There is a reason why you need to prepare, make contingencies, rework battle plans. Being unprepared is stupid and I have to say right now, we are unprepared.”
“You make it sound like a battle…like a war.”
John turned steely eyed at Ben.
“Make no mistake: that’s exactly what it is.”
They slept in the truck somewhere in Kentucky. Well, Ben slept, John did whatever he did while Ben was sleeping. They changed vehicles in some town in Illinois. This time a late model car with almost as much rust as the truck. Still, Ben had to hand it to John, the truck had proved drive worthy and he didn’t doubt that the car would be as well.
“So, John, have you decided to tell me where I’m driving to? Right now, all I got is north. I mean the general direction is nice but a destination would be awesome.” Ben asked on their second day of driving.
“Whitefish, Montana.”
“And Whitefish, Montana? That’s apparently where Dean is.”
“Yes.”
“And you know this how?”
John furrowed his brow, an indication that he was getting irritated. Ben was learning John’s tells. There was an overall feeling in Ben that said John Winchester pissed was not a good thing. Well, let him get ticked off. Ben was entitled to know something.
“Just like I found you.”
Ben turned to John and then threw his eyes back on the road, avoiding the reprimand he was sure was coming.
“And that was how?”
John coughed once and if Ben didn’t know any better, he’d swear his grandfather was embarrassed.
“I don’t know.”
“John, this has got to stop, man. I mean. I’m driving cross-country with my dead grandfather looking for my father that I didn’t even remember until two days ago. This is nuts and I’m starting to feel like, really, maybe I should have stayed at the hospital.”
“God damn it, kid!” John roared from his side of the car.
Ben swerved in automatic response to the bellow.
“You are not crazy! A demon killed your mom. You saw it! I was there to help you get away from it. Dean is your damn father and yeah, I’m your dead grandfather so stop with the shit and just fucking man up!”
Ben drove for another minute and then pulled over to the side of the road.
“What are you doing?” John asked. “Gotta take a leak?”
“I’m leaving.”
Ben opened the door, slammed it and started walking across an Iowa cornfield.
“You can’t leave.” John followed, slamming his own door.
“I can and I am.”
“You are thirteen, for Christ sake. There are demons after you and I need to get you to Dean.”
Ben kept walking, the young stalks of corn bending under his feet. “I’m sick of you, John. I’ll find Dean on my own. Whitefish, Montana. I’ll meet you there. Or maybe not. Who knows? But I’m not going to be your personal driver and whipping boy. You just leave me alone and I’ll figure it out myself.”
“Look, kid.”
Ben turned then and glared at John. “My name is not ‘kid’ it’s Ben. Ben Braeden, not Ben Winchester. Leave me the fuck alone.”
John continued to follow Ben and then suddenly Ben felt John’s strong hand on his shoulder and then he was spun around.
John looked down hard at Ben but Ben looked back just as hard. John hissed softly, “You are right. I’m an ass. I’m finding this all…” John appeared to search for a word, “difficult. But I suppose it is much worse for you. You are doing great. You are a natural at this and I’m proud of how you are handling it all. I am not an easy person to deal with.”
John pinched the center of his nose, as if a headache was coming on. “I don’t deal well with mouthy kids. That’s why your uncle and I fought so damn much. Although truthfully, your dad was just as mouthy, just not with me…I just,” John paused, “I’m sorry, Ben. And I know you probably don’t believe it but I’ve said that twice since we met and really, for me? That’s some kind of personal record. Really. You ask your dad when we find him, okay?”
Ben eyed up John. Flannel shirt, black tee, faded jeans and the two days worth of beard that never seemed to need shaving.
“Okay.” They both turned back toward the car.
It turned out that pissed off Ben might just almost be a match for pissed off John.
Ben had managed to pull off stealing some stuff at a Mom ‘n Pop store still he was by no means doing well in terms of food.
But he wasn’t starving and the food at the hospital had been shit so he figured staying hungry a day or two wouldn’t hurt him. Water was easy enough to get, someone’s hose and a plastic jug. He was doing okay.
John did seemed to make some concessions regarding the fact that Ben was indeed alive and as such, had some requirements that John did not. He made attempts to offer breaks now and then, pointed out potential stores for a snatch and grab. He was less reluctant to allow Ben to stop for a piss or anything else. He also seemed to understand that the amount of driving that Ben could do was limited. Ben was a natural behind the wheel but driving required concentration and Ben was so very new to the concept that he couldn’t put in the continuous hours of driving that his father was apparently able to do at thirteen.
But stopping required stealth as well. In terms of the rest of the world, Ben was an unaccompanied minor.
A lot of people didn’t care but there were some folks who noticed. Although Ben was only thirteen, he looked older so to the rest of the world he wasn’t at an age where it wasn’t conceivable for him to be driving on his own. Traveling cross-country by himself though was a different situation.
Then there always was the fact that while John may have convinced Ben that he wasn’t crazy, talking to an imaginary person raised some red flags. Ben figured that it was kind of like that old show Quantum Leap where the guy talked to a hologram. John was his personal hologram and talking to people who were not there tended to generate interest.
Staying under the radar seemed real important to John.
So they stayed away from rest areas and didn’t even stop at gas stations. John taught Ben the fine art of siphoning gas in about three minutes. Ben became a little more relaxed with his strange traveling companion but still knew almost nothing about him. It was true that Dean had not said much about his father and Ben while interested, hadn’t wanted to pry.
There third night together they pulled off on the side of the road, down a rough path that lead to nowhere. It was there that John dictated they were going to spend the night. Ben climbed into the back seat and stretched out and John sat in the front side passenger seat twisting what appeared to be a gold wedding ring.
Ben shivered just a bit in the cool night air and that seemed to catch John’s attention.
“Cold?”
“Not really.”
“You’re a lousy liar, kid.” John took off his flannel shirt and handed it over the seat to Ben. Ben accepted it gratefully.
“Thanks.”
“For the shirt or my uncanny ability to realize you are a lousy liar?”
Ben snorted and draped the flannel shirt over himself. It held John’s warmth and smell and instantly Ben was flooded with memories of Dean.
Working on the truck, Dean’s soft instructions, use the three quarter inch, son. Son, Ben had hung on that word, wrapped himself around it. He remembered when Dean got stern, Tell your mom that you broke the damn thing and take it like a man. It was hard for Ben to believe that a phone conversation he’d had almost a year ago, could be so fresh in his mind. But it was, he remembered everything about Dean. He remembered Dean’s laugh and the way his eyes crinkled. He remembered the way Dean looked at Mom. He remembered the way Dean looked at Ben. He remembered when Dean had pushed him that night. He wasn’t afraid of Dean, he could never be afraid of Dean. Mom had been mad but Ben? He just wanted Dean back.
“You smell like Dean. “ Ben spoke without thinking.
“Nah, Dean smells like me.”
Ben thought about it.
“You are probably right.” He conceded, then he added as an afterthought, “So why do you think Dean thought you weren’t always the best dad?”
John appeared to mull that around in his head for a bit, “I suppose I could have handled some things differently.”
“Such as?”
John looked at Ben again in the rear view, as if considering how much he wanted to tell. If he wanted to tell. Maybe it was their unusual situation or maybe it was something else, but for some reason John decided to answer him. Ben thought it impressive, considering his grandfather’s obvious disregard for informing Ben of anything.
“Well, when Sam went to Stanford, it was not one of my finest father son moments. “
“You were upset ‘cause he went to college?” Ben asked, truly shocked at John’s words.
“Not really, not the college bit, but the being away from Dean and me. I blew up and basically threw the kid out, which was dumb…but I wasn’t wrong.”
Ben could barely see John’s shape in the front seat. “Doesn’t make any sense, John. Either you were wrong or right.”
John made the noise then, the one that Ben had learned to associate with John, a growl-huff that he still hadn’t quite pinned down the meaning of.
“I was right. Sam shouldn’ta gone. It was dangerous, he was alone and unprotected and it turned out that the people he thought were his friends at Stanford were demons, so yeah…he should’ve stayed with us. But I lost my cool. I don’t know who is more stubborn, Sammy or me. Just not one of my best moments as a father.” Then as if he needed clarification he added, “Sometimes, I’m a less then patient man.”
Ben snorted at the obvious understatement. John ignored it.
“And things like this…” John continued nodding toward the darkened road, “we spent more than a night or two in a car on the side of the road. Granted, it was the Impala and she’s a good deal bigger than this little thing but still, not the best place to raise your kids.”
John really didn’t appear to be talking to Ben any more - it was as if he was talking to himself, running through a lifetime of memories and sifting the good from the bad.
He turned then and looked hard at Ben over the seat, “But not once did I ever stop loving either of those boys. Not once - and no matter what anyone tells you, even them, that is the truth.”
The low rumble in John’s voice conveyed the emotion he obviously felt as much as the words themselves.
“So…when we get there, you can tell them yourself.” Ben offered.
“Yeah, well, we’ll see.” Then as if a switch had flipped John turned away and sat facing the front of the car. “Go to sleep, kid.”
Ben thought about arguing, he wasn’t tired, he wasn’t going to be ordered around. But neither made any sense. He was tired and being ordered around by John was apparently par for the course.
He was asleep within ten minutes.
Ben slept better than he anticipated and woke with the feeling of the warm morning sunlight coming through the back window. He burrowed a little deeper under John’s flannel before he decided to wake completely. He peeked out and grumbled a low, “Morning,” in John’s general direction.
To his dismay there was no dark form in the front of the car and for a moment he panicked. He was alone on the side of the road and his grandfather had left him here.
He took a deep breath and stilled. Ben wasn’t afraid. Not of changeling kids when he was eight or sitting by himself in a car in the early morning now. If John had left to go do whatever ghost grandfather’s do, well, that was okay. Ben would be fine.
Ben pulled the flannel shirt around him and opened the door to head out into the woods that surrounded the car. John was nowhere around so he opted to piss on the right front tire. It seemed appropriate. Piss on the car, piss on John. It was a little cold; he blew on his hands and looked around one more time.
Well, there was no time like the present.
Ben made his way to the driver seat and repeated the hot wiring ritual. The car sputtered once and then caught with a roar. He was just about to put the car in gear when the passenger door opened up and John jumped inside.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“Whitefish, Montana.”
“Without me?”
“With or without you. I’m going to find Dean and if you aren’t ready to go, well then I’ll leave your ass.”
“You will, huh?” John turned and leveled a dark glare at Ben that Ben promptly dismissed.
“Look, John - I’m not going to wait around while you do whatever you do and don’t bother telling me about it. “
John sighed, “You were asleep for Christ sake. Was I supposed to wake you up?”
“Sure why not…you’ve done it before.”
Ben would swear John was counting in his head. “Just drive.”
“Sir, yes, sir.” Ben shot off what he hoped was a decent salute but it seemed to do little to impress John.
“Don’t be a dick, Ben.” John growled.
“Me be a dick?” Ben turned and glared at John. “You are the one who doesn’t bother telling me what is going on. You are the one who left this morning without so much as a note telling me where you were going…and don’t pretend you can’t write a note, because if you can unlock a lock you can use a pencil. I’ve about had it with you and your stealthy need-to-know bullshit. You, John Winchester, are the biggest dick around.”
Ben slammed the car in gear and drove down the dirt lane heading toward the main road.
John sat for a moment in what appeared to be stunned silence.
“Did you just call me a dick?”
Ben looked over at John, “Apparently, yes.”
John sat for another moment quietly contemplating Ben. “Well, I’ve been called a dick before, but not by one of my sons or in this case, my grandson.” He amended that thought, “Well, at least not within earshot anyway.”
“Yeah, well, get used to it, John.”
John seemed to gather his thoughts together. “Get used to it? You do realize I would have kicked your father’s ass for calling me a dick.”
Ben shrugged, “Yeah, well, if the shoe fits.”
“Okay kiddo, let’s get this straight. I’m the adult in the picture, you are the kid. You will treat me like an adult or I swear I’ll….”
“You will what?” Ben glared back at John. “Are you going to threaten to turn the car around? You can’t…I’m driving. Ground me? Take away my TV? You are my dead grandfather. I don’t think any of those things are doable so why don’t we just put our cards on the table.”
Ben stopped the car and put it in park just to drive the point home.
“Look, John. I appreciate what you are doing for me…I do. It’s weird, but I kind of like you. Plus, I think you have my best interests at heart. But I just can’t keep driving around with you pointing out general directions. I just can’t be expected to go where you tell me to go, do what you tell me to do and blindly follow your orders.”
John looked strangely confused.
“Why not?”
“Well, for one, you’re dead. As a doornail. That should give you an indication of how much pull you have here. Secondly, I’m my own man - I’m all for finding Dean and I will find him but you have got to learn to chill and third? Well, again, I hate to say it, but there is the dick factor. John, don’t be a dick.”
John furrowed his brow, growled and made that odd Winchester noise.
“Well, the first point I can’t argue with. I’m dead. The second point is moot because you are not a man, you are a boy. The dick factor? That’s quite possible but I don’t need some smart ass kid telling me what I can and cannot do.”
“And maybe I don’t need a smart ass grandfather telling me what I can and cannot do.”
John’s voice dropped lower, a low rumble that caused Ben’s heart to skip a beat. Suddenly it occurred to Ben that maybe he had stepped over the line. His grandfather/hologram/ghost looked like he was ready to blow a gasket. Could he give a dead man a heart attack? There was a vein in John’s head that was throbbing and the man swiped a hand over his face in a move that Ben had seen Dean do a time or two before, usually after Ben had done or said something incredibly stupid. Maybe it was a father thing? Maybe it was a Winchester thing?
Ben really had no idea what John could do to him.
Being killed by your dead grandfather seemed unlikely though. Killing your dead grandfather seemed just as strange.
Ben opted for diffusion of the situation.
“Look, John. I’m sorry. I meant no disrespect, it’s just…. We really have to work together here. I need help. I’ll admit it. I need to find Dean and you want me to find Dean so we both have the same goal…just help me to understand a little better what I need to do.”
“Please.” He added carefully.
Maybe it was the ‘please’ or maybe John just decided that it wasn’t worth the effort. In any case he nodded. He did mutter something about pain in the ass Winchester boys and how some things never changed.
Ben found himself smiling at the thought.
PREVIOUS | MASTERPOST | NEXT
Genre: Gen PG 13 for language
Characters: John, Dean, Sam and Ben.
Summary: A thirteen year old boy, a demon, and the journey of a lifetime. Protection, love and family comes in many forms. Is grand theft auto genetic?
A/N 1: Special thanks to the amazing tiggeratl1whose incredible artwork turned a fic, into a work of art. Also too, she deserves accolades for cheerleading….she probably has carpal tunnel from all the pom-pom waving and hand holding. As usual, thanks to the gaelicspiritwithout whom I would never have been able to finish this. She is a great beta and a wonderful friend.
“By the time a man realizes that maybe his father was right, he usually has a son who thinks he’s wrong.” - Charles Wadsworth
Ben followed John through the woods. John moved silently and effortlessly; Ben on the other hand sounded like a wounded wild pig. Ben berated himself for his lack of woodsman ability but then quieted his internal monologue with the fact that John was in fact a ghost and as such, could probably move quietly as a damn ghost. But Ben wasn’t sure if John was a ghost either.
Could ghosts unlock doors and carry people around? Ben wasn’t sure - Dean didn’t explain a whole lot to him but whatever John was, hallucination, ghost or simply dead man walking, he appeared to be pretty solid and real - at least to Ben. Which started Ben thinking, could other people see John? He pondered it for a moment and then figured why not go to the horse’s mouth?
“Can other people see you, John?”
John continued his forward momentum. “I’m not quite sure. If we are connected some way, well, I’m pretty sure they can see me. You see and hear and interact with me just fine. The staff at the hospital? They didn’t seem to notice me at all. I’m pretty sure I can interact with Sam and Dean, too. Maybe it’s a genetic connection?”
“For someone who is supposed to be helping me out, you don’t know many answers.”
John paused a moment. “You’ve got a smart mouth.”
“I’ve been told that before.”
John grunted a noise that Ben couldn’t decipher. Clearly, despite his time with Dean, he was not well versed in Winchester.
“So, what next?” Ben asked.
“Find a car, hot wire it, and get to Sam and Dean.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It is easy - I can help you. You need to find Dean. It’s not safe for you on your own and if Dean had thought this shit through, he would have realized it could have come to this. He was thinking with his heart. He wanted to keep you safe. It backfired.”
“I don’t understand, John.”
“Look Ben, I’ll try to fill you in, but right now, I need to get you in a car heading to Dean not debating the issue.”
Ben stopped then. “Look, John. I’m trying my best here. I’m following a ghostly grandfather through the woods after breaking out of a crazy hospital, heading toward what looks like a life of crime. Throw me a bone, will ya?”
John stopped and turned toward Ben. He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair.
“Look kid, you are not crazy. If you can remember Dean now, you can remember that he was a hunter. Is a hunter. You know what he hunts. And the things he hunts? They got your mom and they are trying to get you. The demon that was in your house? One of the lowest on the totem pole, but somehow it found you. I hate to throw it out there so bluntly but we don’t have time for a debrief before we’ve even gotten started.
“You need to come with me. You need to listen to what I tell you and you need to follow my orders. You need to work with me, son, because I don’t know how I can protect you and I don’t know how long I’m even going to be here. But trust me. I’m John Winchester, father to Sam and Dean Winchester and grandfather to Ben Braeden. Despite the last name, you are a Winchester and my blood runs through your veins. That’s why I can connect with you. But none of it will matter if I can’t get you to Dean. Do you understand?”
Ben nodded dumbly.
“Answer me, kid.” John’s voice was low.
“Yes, I understand.”
“Good. Let’s hustle; we have places to be before daylight.”
It turned out that Ben had a flair for hot-wiring a car. Is grand theft auto genetic? He wanted to pick out a sporty Mustang. Ben figured if he was going to steal a car it might as well be a fun car. John ignored him and pushed him toward a 1998 Ford truck with so much rust on it that Ben was quite sure he’d be peddling like the Flintstones before they got half way to their destination.
Ben amended it in his head.
Unknown destination.
Because wherever John was taking them, he didn’t feel the need to share with the class. In Ben’s somewhat limited experience, John neither explained himself very well nor took the time to bother. Oh, he explained exactly how to hot wire the truck and nodded approvingly at how quickly Ben did it. He also appeared to be somewhat okay with Ben’s driving ability. Although he did close his eyes a time or two and the only real direction he gave was stay under the speed limit.
It was as if he was comfortable with the thought of a thirteen-year old boy without a license driving them on the interstate. Ben was suddenly grateful for the few inches he’d grown in the past year. Despite Dean’s ascertains to the contrary, just reaching the pedals did not a great driver make. Being able to look the part helped a bit too. Sometimes John told Ben to pull off and go a back road. Ben didn’t know why and John didn’t elaborate. Ben had given up trying to get information from him.
Finally though, maybe three hours into the drive Ben balked at John’s next direction.
“I wanna stop John, gotta take a whiz.”
John turned to Ben and quirked his head as if pissing was something he hadn’t thought of.
“Pull over on the side, kid. Do it quick.”
Ben sulked a bit but pulled over, stepped into knee high grass and pissed like a racehorse. He shook off, tucked back in and turned toward the truck to see John leaning against it, hip near the tailgate. He headed toward him then, a little slowly, trying to enjoy the movement outside of the truck.
“So, I guess you might be hungry too.” John sounded a little irritated; as if bodily functions were something he hadn’t anticipated.
“Nah, I’m good for a bit.”
John looked him over hard in the early morning light.
“You look a little rough kid. I think you need to eat.”
“Yeah, well I’ve been in the nut house for a month or so and they don’t offer sunlamps. The food sucked and I barely slept thanks to my dream grandfather who kept me awake most of the night.”
John smiled. “Point taken. Still, I say let’s put a few more miles behind us, get breakfast somewhere, change cars and then hit the road till we can find a place to sleep tonight.”
Ben sighed. “I’m kinda broke.”
John looked off over the side of the road. “Yeah, that’s a problem. How good are you at running a con?”
Ben’s introduction to petty thievery was pretty rudimentary. Order breakfast at a busy dinner then leave and don’t pay.
It was risky but there was nothing to be done. Ben was hungry and they had no money.
Again, it was as if John hadn’t thought about it. Ben bitched to him after the sprint to the truck.
“You know for someone who doesn’t want to share the game plan, the game plan we appear to be playing has a lot of holes in it.”
John grunted from the passenger seat. “Yeah, well, I’ve been off the grid for a few years. I don’t eat, I don’t sleep and yeah, I should’ve remembered that all teenage boys do is eat and sleep unless you make them do something else.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means…,”John seemed to censor himself, ”…it means, I’m sorry. I need to work a little harder to remind myself of who you are and what I am. I need to figure some shit out - like money. Things were different when I was alive. I had funds to use, or ways to scam. The boys were brought up in the life and they could work a con as easy as me.” John continued. “And I wasn’t dead. Dead means no credit, no driver’s license no nothing, except that you can see me and no one else can. Apparently. So I have to figure this out.”
Ben glanced at John as he carefully merged the truck onto the interstate.
“Oh, so maybe the great John Winchester didn’t think things through carefully?”
“Keep your eyes on the road.”
“Did I hit a sore spot?”
“Jesus kid, how did you make it to thirteen without somebody knocking some sense in your head?”
Ben grinned, “I’m adorable. Besides - in this case, I’m right. “
John grimaced from the passenger seat, “Well, shit started happening faster than I anticipated. I’ll give you that. I wasn’t expecting this now. I thought I had more time. Pushing a timeline ahead like this…it’s never a good idea. There is a reason why you need to prepare, make contingencies, rework battle plans. Being unprepared is stupid and I have to say right now, we are unprepared.”
“You make it sound like a battle…like a war.”
John turned steely eyed at Ben.
“Make no mistake: that’s exactly what it is.”
They slept in the truck somewhere in Kentucky. Well, Ben slept, John did whatever he did while Ben was sleeping. They changed vehicles in some town in Illinois. This time a late model car with almost as much rust as the truck. Still, Ben had to hand it to John, the truck had proved drive worthy and he didn’t doubt that the car would be as well.
“So, John, have you decided to tell me where I’m driving to? Right now, all I got is north. I mean the general direction is nice but a destination would be awesome.” Ben asked on their second day of driving.
“Whitefish, Montana.”
“And Whitefish, Montana? That’s apparently where Dean is.”
“Yes.”
“And you know this how?”
John furrowed his brow, an indication that he was getting irritated. Ben was learning John’s tells. There was an overall feeling in Ben that said John Winchester pissed was not a good thing. Well, let him get ticked off. Ben was entitled to know something.
“Just like I found you.”
Ben turned to John and then threw his eyes back on the road, avoiding the reprimand he was sure was coming.
“And that was how?”
John coughed once and if Ben didn’t know any better, he’d swear his grandfather was embarrassed.
“I don’t know.”
“John, this has got to stop, man. I mean. I’m driving cross-country with my dead grandfather looking for my father that I didn’t even remember until two days ago. This is nuts and I’m starting to feel like, really, maybe I should have stayed at the hospital.”
“God damn it, kid!” John roared from his side of the car.
Ben swerved in automatic response to the bellow.
“You are not crazy! A demon killed your mom. You saw it! I was there to help you get away from it. Dean is your damn father and yeah, I’m your dead grandfather so stop with the shit and just fucking man up!”
Ben drove for another minute and then pulled over to the side of the road.
“What are you doing?” John asked. “Gotta take a leak?”
“I’m leaving.”
Ben opened the door, slammed it and started walking across an Iowa cornfield.
“You can’t leave.” John followed, slamming his own door.
“I can and I am.”
“You are thirteen, for Christ sake. There are demons after you and I need to get you to Dean.”
Ben kept walking, the young stalks of corn bending under his feet. “I’m sick of you, John. I’ll find Dean on my own. Whitefish, Montana. I’ll meet you there. Or maybe not. Who knows? But I’m not going to be your personal driver and whipping boy. You just leave me alone and I’ll figure it out myself.”
“Look, kid.”
Ben turned then and glared at John. “My name is not ‘kid’ it’s Ben. Ben Braeden, not Ben Winchester. Leave me the fuck alone.”
John continued to follow Ben and then suddenly Ben felt John’s strong hand on his shoulder and then he was spun around.
John looked down hard at Ben but Ben looked back just as hard. John hissed softly, “You are right. I’m an ass. I’m finding this all…” John appeared to search for a word, “difficult. But I suppose it is much worse for you. You are doing great. You are a natural at this and I’m proud of how you are handling it all. I am not an easy person to deal with.”
John pinched the center of his nose, as if a headache was coming on. “I don’t deal well with mouthy kids. That’s why your uncle and I fought so damn much. Although truthfully, your dad was just as mouthy, just not with me…I just,” John paused, “I’m sorry, Ben. And I know you probably don’t believe it but I’ve said that twice since we met and really, for me? That’s some kind of personal record. Really. You ask your dad when we find him, okay?”
Ben eyed up John. Flannel shirt, black tee, faded jeans and the two days worth of beard that never seemed to need shaving.
“Okay.” They both turned back toward the car.
It turned out that pissed off Ben might just almost be a match for pissed off John.
Ben had managed to pull off stealing some stuff at a Mom ‘n Pop store still he was by no means doing well in terms of food.
But he wasn’t starving and the food at the hospital had been shit so he figured staying hungry a day or two wouldn’t hurt him. Water was easy enough to get, someone’s hose and a plastic jug. He was doing okay.
John did seemed to make some concessions regarding the fact that Ben was indeed alive and as such, had some requirements that John did not. He made attempts to offer breaks now and then, pointed out potential stores for a snatch and grab. He was less reluctant to allow Ben to stop for a piss or anything else. He also seemed to understand that the amount of driving that Ben could do was limited. Ben was a natural behind the wheel but driving required concentration and Ben was so very new to the concept that he couldn’t put in the continuous hours of driving that his father was apparently able to do at thirteen.
But stopping required stealth as well. In terms of the rest of the world, Ben was an unaccompanied minor.
A lot of people didn’t care but there were some folks who noticed. Although Ben was only thirteen, he looked older so to the rest of the world he wasn’t at an age where it wasn’t conceivable for him to be driving on his own. Traveling cross-country by himself though was a different situation.
Then there always was the fact that while John may have convinced Ben that he wasn’t crazy, talking to an imaginary person raised some red flags. Ben figured that it was kind of like that old show Quantum Leap where the guy talked to a hologram. John was his personal hologram and talking to people who were not there tended to generate interest.
Staying under the radar seemed real important to John.
So they stayed away from rest areas and didn’t even stop at gas stations. John taught Ben the fine art of siphoning gas in about three minutes. Ben became a little more relaxed with his strange traveling companion but still knew almost nothing about him. It was true that Dean had not said much about his father and Ben while interested, hadn’t wanted to pry.
There third night together they pulled off on the side of the road, down a rough path that lead to nowhere. It was there that John dictated they were going to spend the night. Ben climbed into the back seat and stretched out and John sat in the front side passenger seat twisting what appeared to be a gold wedding ring.
Ben shivered just a bit in the cool night air and that seemed to catch John’s attention.
“Cold?”
“Not really.”
“You’re a lousy liar, kid.” John took off his flannel shirt and handed it over the seat to Ben. Ben accepted it gratefully.
“Thanks.”
“For the shirt or my uncanny ability to realize you are a lousy liar?”
Ben snorted and draped the flannel shirt over himself. It held John’s warmth and smell and instantly Ben was flooded with memories of Dean.
Working on the truck, Dean’s soft instructions, use the three quarter inch, son. Son, Ben had hung on that word, wrapped himself around it. He remembered when Dean got stern, Tell your mom that you broke the damn thing and take it like a man. It was hard for Ben to believe that a phone conversation he’d had almost a year ago, could be so fresh in his mind. But it was, he remembered everything about Dean. He remembered Dean’s laugh and the way his eyes crinkled. He remembered the way Dean looked at Mom. He remembered the way Dean looked at Ben. He remembered when Dean had pushed him that night. He wasn’t afraid of Dean, he could never be afraid of Dean. Mom had been mad but Ben? He just wanted Dean back.
“You smell like Dean. “ Ben spoke without thinking.
“Nah, Dean smells like me.”
Ben thought about it.
“You are probably right.” He conceded, then he added as an afterthought, “So why do you think Dean thought you weren’t always the best dad?”
John appeared to mull that around in his head for a bit, “I suppose I could have handled some things differently.”
“Such as?”
John looked at Ben again in the rear view, as if considering how much he wanted to tell. If he wanted to tell. Maybe it was their unusual situation or maybe it was something else, but for some reason John decided to answer him. Ben thought it impressive, considering his grandfather’s obvious disregard for informing Ben of anything.
“Well, when Sam went to Stanford, it was not one of my finest father son moments. “
“You were upset ‘cause he went to college?” Ben asked, truly shocked at John’s words.
“Not really, not the college bit, but the being away from Dean and me. I blew up and basically threw the kid out, which was dumb…but I wasn’t wrong.”
Ben could barely see John’s shape in the front seat. “Doesn’t make any sense, John. Either you were wrong or right.”
John made the noise then, the one that Ben had learned to associate with John, a growl-huff that he still hadn’t quite pinned down the meaning of.
“I was right. Sam shouldn’ta gone. It was dangerous, he was alone and unprotected and it turned out that the people he thought were his friends at Stanford were demons, so yeah…he should’ve stayed with us. But I lost my cool. I don’t know who is more stubborn, Sammy or me. Just not one of my best moments as a father.” Then as if he needed clarification he added, “Sometimes, I’m a less then patient man.”
Ben snorted at the obvious understatement. John ignored it.
“And things like this…” John continued nodding toward the darkened road, “we spent more than a night or two in a car on the side of the road. Granted, it was the Impala and she’s a good deal bigger than this little thing but still, not the best place to raise your kids.”
John really didn’t appear to be talking to Ben any more - it was as if he was talking to himself, running through a lifetime of memories and sifting the good from the bad.
He turned then and looked hard at Ben over the seat, “But not once did I ever stop loving either of those boys. Not once - and no matter what anyone tells you, even them, that is the truth.”
The low rumble in John’s voice conveyed the emotion he obviously felt as much as the words themselves.
“So…when we get there, you can tell them yourself.” Ben offered.
“Yeah, well, we’ll see.” Then as if a switch had flipped John turned away and sat facing the front of the car. “Go to sleep, kid.”
Ben thought about arguing, he wasn’t tired, he wasn’t going to be ordered around. But neither made any sense. He was tired and being ordered around by John was apparently par for the course.
He was asleep within ten minutes.
Ben slept better than he anticipated and woke with the feeling of the warm morning sunlight coming through the back window. He burrowed a little deeper under John’s flannel before he decided to wake completely. He peeked out and grumbled a low, “Morning,” in John’s general direction.
To his dismay there was no dark form in the front of the car and for a moment he panicked. He was alone on the side of the road and his grandfather had left him here.
He took a deep breath and stilled. Ben wasn’t afraid. Not of changeling kids when he was eight or sitting by himself in a car in the early morning now. If John had left to go do whatever ghost grandfather’s do, well, that was okay. Ben would be fine.
Ben pulled the flannel shirt around him and opened the door to head out into the woods that surrounded the car. John was nowhere around so he opted to piss on the right front tire. It seemed appropriate. Piss on the car, piss on John. It was a little cold; he blew on his hands and looked around one more time.
Well, there was no time like the present.
Ben made his way to the driver seat and repeated the hot wiring ritual. The car sputtered once and then caught with a roar. He was just about to put the car in gear when the passenger door opened up and John jumped inside.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“Whitefish, Montana.”
“Without me?”
“With or without you. I’m going to find Dean and if you aren’t ready to go, well then I’ll leave your ass.”
“You will, huh?” John turned and leveled a dark glare at Ben that Ben promptly dismissed.
“Look, John - I’m not going to wait around while you do whatever you do and don’t bother telling me about it. “
John sighed, “You were asleep for Christ sake. Was I supposed to wake you up?”
“Sure why not…you’ve done it before.”
Ben would swear John was counting in his head. “Just drive.”
“Sir, yes, sir.” Ben shot off what he hoped was a decent salute but it seemed to do little to impress John.
“Don’t be a dick, Ben.” John growled.
“Me be a dick?” Ben turned and glared at John. “You are the one who doesn’t bother telling me what is going on. You are the one who left this morning without so much as a note telling me where you were going…and don’t pretend you can’t write a note, because if you can unlock a lock you can use a pencil. I’ve about had it with you and your stealthy need-to-know bullshit. You, John Winchester, are the biggest dick around.”
Ben slammed the car in gear and drove down the dirt lane heading toward the main road.
John sat for a moment in what appeared to be stunned silence.
“Did you just call me a dick?”
Ben looked over at John, “Apparently, yes.”
John sat for another moment quietly contemplating Ben. “Well, I’ve been called a dick before, but not by one of my sons or in this case, my grandson.” He amended that thought, “Well, at least not within earshot anyway.”
“Yeah, well, get used to it, John.”
John seemed to gather his thoughts together. “Get used to it? You do realize I would have kicked your father’s ass for calling me a dick.”
Ben shrugged, “Yeah, well, if the shoe fits.”
“Okay kiddo, let’s get this straight. I’m the adult in the picture, you are the kid. You will treat me like an adult or I swear I’ll….”
“You will what?” Ben glared back at John. “Are you going to threaten to turn the car around? You can’t…I’m driving. Ground me? Take away my TV? You are my dead grandfather. I don’t think any of those things are doable so why don’t we just put our cards on the table.”
Ben stopped the car and put it in park just to drive the point home.
“Look, John. I appreciate what you are doing for me…I do. It’s weird, but I kind of like you. Plus, I think you have my best interests at heart. But I just can’t keep driving around with you pointing out general directions. I just can’t be expected to go where you tell me to go, do what you tell me to do and blindly follow your orders.”
John looked strangely confused.
“Why not?”
“Well, for one, you’re dead. As a doornail. That should give you an indication of how much pull you have here. Secondly, I’m my own man - I’m all for finding Dean and I will find him but you have got to learn to chill and third? Well, again, I hate to say it, but there is the dick factor. John, don’t be a dick.”
John furrowed his brow, growled and made that odd Winchester noise.
“Well, the first point I can’t argue with. I’m dead. The second point is moot because you are not a man, you are a boy. The dick factor? That’s quite possible but I don’t need some smart ass kid telling me what I can and cannot do.”
“And maybe I don’t need a smart ass grandfather telling me what I can and cannot do.”
John’s voice dropped lower, a low rumble that caused Ben’s heart to skip a beat. Suddenly it occurred to Ben that maybe he had stepped over the line. His grandfather/hologram/ghost looked like he was ready to blow a gasket. Could he give a dead man a heart attack? There was a vein in John’s head that was throbbing and the man swiped a hand over his face in a move that Ben had seen Dean do a time or two before, usually after Ben had done or said something incredibly stupid. Maybe it was a father thing? Maybe it was a Winchester thing?
Ben really had no idea what John could do to him.
Being killed by your dead grandfather seemed unlikely though. Killing your dead grandfather seemed just as strange.
Ben opted for diffusion of the situation.
“Look, John. I’m sorry. I meant no disrespect, it’s just…. We really have to work together here. I need help. I’ll admit it. I need to find Dean and you want me to find Dean so we both have the same goal…just help me to understand a little better what I need to do.”
“Please.” He added carefully.
Maybe it was the ‘please’ or maybe John just decided that it wasn’t worth the effort. In any case he nodded. He did mutter something about pain in the ass Winchester boys and how some things never changed.
Ben found himself smiling at the thought.
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