The Father Speaks In The Son

[saberivojo]

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 tiggeratl1 whose 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 gaelicspirit without 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, you are going to stay here with Dad. He will protect you. You are as safe here as anywhere else. This cabin is sigiled out the ass; even the forest around it has been marked. Dad and Sam scouted and reinforced any breaks in Rufus’ parameter. You are safe here.”

“What do you mean, I’m going to stay here? It’s after me, Dad. This is where it will come.”

“No, it won’t because Sam and I will kill it before it gets here.”

“I’m not going to stay here at this cabin while you and Sam go hunt for this Baal demon or whatever. Use me as bait. Bring it to us. I’m a hunter, just like you are a hunter. This is the only way to get it.”

“You are not a hunter, you will never be a hunter and I’m sure as shit not using you as bait.” Dean’s voice had an edge that cut the air, making Ben take notice, forcing him to change tactics.

Ben took a breath. “Okay, I’m not a hunter now, but I want to be and no matter what - doesn’t it make more sense to bring it here so we can fight it on our terms?”

“What do you mean, we can fight it on our terms You are staying here with your grandfather and that is that. You will fight nothing. You are not going to fight anything fucking ever and you are certainly not going to be a hunter.” Dean’s voice rumbled as low as John’s but was as loud as Ben had ever heard him yell.

Ben rose with a humpf and headed out the front door. He opened it roughly and slammed it so hard that it bounced back open in the door jam. He stood on the porch a moment. He could hear his grandfather speaking with just a hint of humor in his voice. Only a Winchester could find humor in a situation that spoke of hunting and demons.

“I’ve been dealing with that attitude since day one. Old Gramps is sitting this one out.”

That pissed Ben off even more and he stepped off the porch striding purposely down the small path to the woods. He had no idea where he was going and he had the tracking trailing skills of mole so he knew he wouldn’t get very far.

From behind him he heard Dean, “Ben!”

Ben ignored him.

A moment later, “Benjamin!” That was an order all Winchester gruff and full of promise.

Dean had never called him Benjamin. Not once. His mom had called him Benjamin a couple of times, maybe even a few times when Dean lived with them. It always meant he was in Big Trouble.

He didn’t care but it did stop Ben in his tracks. He didn’t turn around though but stood breathing through his nose, trying to keep his temper in check.

“What do you think you are doing?” Dean came up behind him, his voice still gravel rough. But he didn’t touch Ben, didn’t offer a comforting hand to his shoulder. Ben wasn’t sure if he wanted that anyway.

“I’m not going to sit around here and do nothing. You don’t want me to be a hunter? You don’t want to teach me? Fine. I’ll find someone who will.” Ben spat it out.

“Like Hell you will.”

Ben turned around and looked at Dean, dark eyes blazing. “Watch me.”

He turned around and took another step down the path. This time Dean’s hand caught his shoulder and roughly turned him around, at the same time he popped him sharply on the ass. Just one slap.

“Hey! You spanked me!” Ben yelped.

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Hardly.”

“That’s, that’s, that’s child abuse!” Ben sputtered.

Dean’s suddenly grinned. “Nah, that just got your attention. Talk to your Gramps about spankings.” Then his eyes got serious. He tugged Ben closer; Ben could smell pine needles and Dean.

“Ben we have to talk. Right now.”

Ben wanted to sulk but Dean pulled him down on a log that sat conveniently on the edge of the path. “Sit. Please.”

Ben sighed and settled himself more comfortably on the log. It really was peaceful, sitting with his hip next to his father, the slow hum of cicadas and nothing else around.

“Ben, I know you want to hunt. I was raised in this life. But I swore you wouldn’t be.”

Ben looked off into the forest, down the path. It was cool here under the trees. “Dad, that may be what youwant, but it isn’t what I want. Doesn’t what I want matter?”

“No…I mean, yes. Yes it does, it’s just that by the time I was your age, I ‘d had nine years of training under my belt and even so hunting at thirteen was nothing more than an occasional salt and burn. Right now, things are so much harder, the stakes are higher. There is a demon after you and you are just a kid.” Dean’s voice was rough. “And not just any kid, Ben, you’re my kid. I want more for you than this. It’s a tough life Ben. A hard life. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy and now my son wants to do it?”

“Not just wants to do it, Dad. I need to do it. That thing killed my mom…it’s coming after me. I’m not going to stand there at let it get me.”

“That’s what I’m here for, Ben. I’m your father. I’ll protect you.”

“And what if you leave again?” There really wasn’t accusation in the words but he couldn’t stop the tremble in his voice. Ben was a practical kid. Dean had left him before; he could again.

Dean dropped his head then followed Ben’s gaze into the forest. “I will never, ever do that again.” Dean turned back to Ben. Ben was the one to study the pine needles thick on the forest floor. Dean gently touched two fingers under his hand under Ben’s chin and lifted Ben’s face to meet his own. “Never.”

Ben breathed a deep sigh shudder and allowed himself to lean into Dean. Dean pulled him close. Once again, Ben was filled with the smell that was Dean. Sweat and leather but oddly enough, not whiskey? The whiskey was usually there but now all he smelled was the forest and Dean’s own unique scent.

“That’s good to know, Dad. But it doesn’t change anything. You won’t be here forever and I’m not going to give up without a fight. You need to teach me what you know. What Gramps and Uncle Sam know. My last name may be Braeden, but I’m a Winchester, too.”

Dean leaned his chin on Ben’s head.

“Okay. Let’s just say we do this. That I allowyou to do this. It’s got to be on my terms. It’s my way…all the way. You follow my orders. You follow Sam’s orders. Hell, you even follow Gramps’ orders. No more stomping off when something doesn’t go your way. It’s important, Ben. I can’t protect you if I’m worrying you’re gonna jump ship all the time. It’s not perfect but it’s the only way I know to keep you safe. And you are not going to be bait. But, I’ll consider that us trapping it before it gets to you might just work.”

Ben sniffled once. “Agreed.” Then he amended. “This following orders stuff is with regard to hunting right? You are gonna start ordering me around for the hell of it?”

Dean grinned. “What, like fetch me a beer or something? Nah, I’ve got Sam for that.”



Ben knew he was not actively involved in the planning of the trap. He was okay with sitting on the sidelines. But it felt good to be in the small kitchen with these three men, his family. He watched how they moved together. The Winchesters were a team, they were a little rusty maybe since the arrival of John but whatever head-butting they had going on before seemed to disappear with the common goal of keeping Ben safe.

There were maps and books but mostly there was just John. In John’s head was the information they needed and both his father and his uncle fell into an easy camaraderie with John leading and them following. It wasn’t all one sided by any measure, both Sam and Dean added info, offered ideas and contributed to the plan easily.

Sometime during the night Ben fell asleep on the chair, his body wrapped in the Indian blanket.

Ben awoke in the early morning, at least that’s what he thought. He could hear birds chirping although it was still dark outside. Maybe five o’clock he figured. Not that it mattered. He could see his uncle’s huge form on the couch, boots still on and snoring lightly. Ben smiled to himself. His uncle looked like a little kid in a huge body.

He could hear his father talking low to his grandfather.

“What do you know about…well, about what happened down here while you were gone?”

“Enough.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means, I know enough to know that you boys both went through Hell. I know about Sam and his stint in the cage. I know about you and the torture. I know it all.”

There was a pause then and a sudden intake of air. In the quiet of the cabin it was easy enough to hear. He was pretty sure it was Dean. “So all of that garbage about you being the only one who knows all about Ben is an understatement. You know about all of us.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

There was a pause in the conversation. For a moment, Ben thought maybe that was it, that they were finished talking then he heard Dean’s voice low and soft.

“I’m sorry, Dad. Sorry, I let you down.”

Ben heard a gruff cough. This time he wasn’t sure if it was Dean or John.

“You never let me down, neither one of you did. I could have done without Sam’s jonesing on demon blood, but he did it with the best of intentions. And I would have given anything to have saved you boys from the pit. I thought I had but I was wrong.”

Ben tried to connect the dots in his brain. Dean shared very little with Ben about hunting. Ben had thought Sam was dead, although Dean never really said that. After…when Sam came back, Dean was gone mostly. He’d never really discussed any of it with Ben and Ben never pried. It was Dean’s secret to keep. Or to share. Obviously sharing with Ben was not going to happen, it seemed it was hard for Dean to even share with Gramps. Even Sam maybe, because Sam’s soft intake and exhale of air was that of a man in deep sleep.

No, this was something Dean wanted to talk about with his father. It made Ben feel skeevy to be listening, but he was in the same room with them and short of getting out and walking outside he was going to hear.

“But Dad, you were down there for so long. You never broke. I did and-“

John interrupted Dean. “Enough Dean. What’s done is done. You did the best you could do. You and Sam saved the world, isn’t that enough?”

“No, sir. No it isn’t.”

In the half-light he saw the form of his father as he turned toward Ben. The shadows fell over Dean’s face and even though Ben knew he couldn’t see him, he resisted the urge to close his eyes and pretend he wasn’t awake.

“Dean.” This time there was steel in his grandfather’s voice. “You did fine. I’m proud of you. Of both of you.” Then Ben could hear a softening of Gramps’ voice. “And no…there’s no demon talking for me.”

Dean chuckled low then. “Yeah, I guess not.”

There was quiet then, both men seemingly content in their own thoughts. Then John reached over to Dean in a motion that appeared both careless and intentional and pulled Dean in to a hug. Just a curl of arm over shoulder but even from his vantage point, Ben could see his father’s shoulders tighten and then relax. There was a moment then, father and son in a rough embrace where Ben heard a whispered word or two but then just quiet. Then, as if by some unwritten Winchester code, father and son stepped back from each other. Ben listened for a bit longer, but they weren’t talking anymore so he curled up tighter and went back to sleep.



When Ben woke again, it was full on morning sunny and bright. Only Gramps was in the cabin though. It was a little disappointing not to see Dean but Ben was sure he was around somewhere.

Gramps turned to him and as if reading his thoughts said, “They’re out scouting. They shouldn’t be too much longer.”

It occurred to Ben that he wasn’t the same kid he was six weeks ago. He’d had a mom but no dad. He’d lived a normal life, for the most part. He had played with his friends, listened to his iPod, played videogames. Ben was normal. He was on a baseball team. He went to school.

And although he missed his mom fiercely, for some reason, this new life - so profoundly different from how he’d once defined ‘normal’ - felt right somehow. Like it was meant to be. The missing puzzle piece in everything had been Dean. Now that Dean was here, he would be all right.

He glanced out at the shoddy window to see his father and his uncle making their way across the front area of the cabin. They were deep in conversation, his uncle towering over his father and then his dad reached over and cuffed Sam sharply upside the head. Sam smiled and rubbed the back of his head good-naturedly. Then his uncle hip checked Dean, a move that should have had them both on the ground but apparently it was nothing Dean hadn’t been expecting.

They moved easy together, cat-like and purposeful, despite the roughhousing and in no time at all they were at the front porch.

“Yeah, like you never paid for it, Sam. I know damn well, I didn’t.” His father stopped the conversation when he saw Ben and if he didn’t know any better he’d swear his dad was blushing.

“Hey, kiddo…finally awake, huh?”

“Yeah. And starving.”

Dean turned to John. “What is it with this kid and starving? All he does is eat and sleep.”

“Just like you at his age. He’s a teenage boy. Got a freakin’ hollow leg.”

Dean grunted.

“Your day for breakfast, Samantha.” Dean headed over to where Ben sat still wrapped in blankets. “Chop, chop. We got a hungry boy here.” He spoke over his shoulder to Sam.

“You sleep okay?” Dean asked.

Ben nodded.

“Good.” Dean slung his arm around Ben a movement that reminded him of John and his father earlier this morning. Ben couldn’t help but allow himself to rest in the lee of his father’s arms.

Dean let his hand dangle over Ben’s chest. It felt comfortable and safe and for the first time in a long time, Ben felt almost good. Suddenly Dean reached abruptly toward the amulet round Ben’s neck. His hands found it deftly where it had nestled warm against Ben’s chest.

“Where’d you get this?”

Ben stuttered with the rough sound of Dean’s voice. “I…I’m not sure, Gramps gave it to me. He said it was important.”

“Dad?” Dean demanded. It was just one word but John got it.

“You don’t need it anymore. Ben does.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Have you always had a mouth like that? ‘Cause you know, I don’t seem to remember putting up with too much of that when you were a kid.”

“News Flash, I’m not a kid now, Dad, and I asked you a question.”

John’s voice turned dark. “And I answered it.”

Ben didn’t get it; the significance of what was going on or anything really. Sam stood in the kitchen with a bewildered look on his face as well.

“If it bothers you so much, here, you take it.” Ben started to take the amulet from around his neck.

“NO!” John bellowed and Ben stopped in mid pull.

For a moment Ben was stunned. John had only yelled like that once and that was when he was in the house with the demon. It had startled him then and that was only his voice, this time he almost shook with the force of both it and the presence that was John.

Then softer but urgently, “Don’t take it off, Ben. You need it. I need it. Without it I can’t help you.”

“Huh?”

“That amulet is tied to Dean, tied to me and yeah tied to you. I can’t stay here unless you have it so please, keep it on.”

Ben tried to remember when he got the amulet, how it had appeared one night cold against his chest. He dialed back his memory to the hospital, Carl and the nut house. He’d thought it had been one of the kids who had given it to him but that wasn’t true and he remembered figuring that out pretty early. But obviously there was a connection between it and John. Just nothing he’d ever thought of before. Except for that one bellow in the house when his mom had been killed, it wasn’t until the amulet was safely tucked against his chest that John showed up.

How could he not have figured it out?

“Is it possessed or something?” Dean ground out. “’Cause Sam and I both know that what’s dead should stay dead. Keeping you with Ben or you wanting to stay - well, that can’t happen just because you want it to. Just because we want it to.” Dean’s voice sounded strong with conviction.

Ben watched as Sam and Dean exchanged glances. He wasn’t sure what they were saying, but they both obviously agreed.

“Give me the amulet, Ben.”

Suddenly, Ben realized what Dean was proposing.

“No. It’s mine. You can’t have it.”

“Remember what I said, Ben about orders? Well, this is an order, give it to me.”

“No.” Ben stood up his right hand on the amulet. He needed it. It felt good around his neck and if the amulet gave him John, well, so be it.

“BEN.” Dean barked, sharp and staccato. Ben backed up and almost tripped over the Indian blanket chair.

“No. It’s mine. John is mine. You can’t have it and you can’t have him. It’s not my fault that you guys screwed up your relationship or whatever. Mine is just fine. John and I get along. He helps me and he’s my grandfather and my guardian angel so you can’t have him.”

Dean spoke quietly then. “Ben, if Dad is possessing that amulet, it’s not a good thing. Possession never is. Even when it feels good. Even when you want it to be.” Dean choked the last words out.

Ben sat hard on the edge of the chair with a decidedly ungraceful thump. “He helped me get here. He taught me things. He yelled at me. I needhim.” He felt a sob escape his throat unbidden and raspy.

John spoke quietly from behind Dean. ”Dean’s right, son.” Ben met his eyes over Dean’s head. “It’s not right and it’s not natural, but right now it’s all we’ve got. “

“Dean.” John spoke. Sharp and brisk and so command like that Sam and Dean turned toward John. “You can have the amulet back. But not until this is over. I need to be here for this. I need to be here for Ben.” John took a deep breath. “I need to be here for you boys.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair. Sam pursed lips but nodded briefly.

“So the Guardian Angel thing is bullshit?” Dean asked.

“No, no of course not. It’s just this isn’t the natural order of things.”

Sam muttered low. “When is it ever, where we are concerned?”

“Look, I’m Ben’s Guardian…I am. It’s just that I’m more than that. Ben needs more than that. There is more at stake than just one boy. But, I need the amulet. It helps bind me to Ben and if you hadn’t ditched it, it would have helped bind me to you.”

“Oh, so this is my fault?” Dean asked incredulously.

“No. God damn it, Dean.” John spoke, exasperation in every syllable. “When did you become so damn difficult?”

Dean countered irritably, “Since my father sold his soul to a demon, some of my best friends were killed, me and my brother went to Hell and the world almost caved in around us. So yeah, I’ve got a bit of chip on my shoulder. Fucking deal with it.”

Ben thought it might be wise if he could sit this one out. Unfortunately, there was nowhere to sit it out. There was Rufus’ cabin and the front porch and from the volume of yelling even the front porch wouldn’t be safe. So instead, he folded himself on the floor hugging his knees tightly to his chest.

For a moment he considered Sam. Sam seemed like a good choice. Tall, strong and Ben figured when the punches started he would make a fine safety zone. Instead he pulled the Indian blanket down over himself, wrapped himself up in it as if it would shield him from the noise and the yelling.

Sam even seemed a bit perplexed at the verbal exchange between father and son. But it was Sam who stopped it with a sharp, “Dean! Dad! Will you take a look at Ben?”

They both turned to Ben and in the quiet aftermath of the yelling Ben just wanted to crumble under their gazes.

“Jesus, Ben, I’m sorry.” Dean approached Ben like he was a skittish colt. “God, I’m sorry.” Ben unscrunched the blanket enough to see his father crouched down in front of him.

“Dad, I can’t lose Gramps. I can’t lose you.” Ben spoke softly. And he was crying damn it. He was crying and he didn’t care. He was just a kid.

Just a step behind Dean, John stood suddenly deflated and less imposing than Ben had ever seen him.

“Ben, we’re gonna figure this out.” Dean soothed, voice low and modulated, “You, me, Sam and Dad. You aren’t losing anyone again anytime soon.”

“Promise?” Ben almost didn’t want to say it; he didn’t want to hear the answer.

“I promise. But listen kiddo, this is kind of uncharted territory. I’m not sure what’s gonna go down - well, down the road.”

“Okay.”

Ben let the blanket fall away, lower on his body as the tension leaked out of the air around him. Dean didn’t move closer, though. As if he was afraid to touch him. He saw his father’s eyes resting on the amulet around his neck, and, afraid of re-instigating the fire between Dean and John, Ben’s eyes sought his uncle’s, looking for help.

Sam lifted his chin; he got the message. Clearing his throat, his soft voice grabbed Dean and John’s attention, turning their eyes from Ben toward him.

“Ben, your Gramps tell you where that amulet came from?”

Ben shook his head; he felt rather than saw his father set back on his heels, as if bracing himself. He sniffed, working to dry up the tears that seemed to flow from an unending source.

“I gave it to your dad. For Christmas one year. When we were kids. He was just about your age, in fact.”

Ben looked at Dean; his father’s eyes were on the ground. Ben couldn’t catch this expression and wasn’t sure if could figure it out if he had.

“I got it from,” here Sam faltered, his voice cracking slightly, “a friend of ours. For your Gramps. But….”

“Dean needed it more,” John broke in. “It’s for protection, and your Dad, kid, he was so busy protecting everyone else around him…he needed something watching out for him.”

“Did you have a Guardian Angel, too?” Ben asked, eyes on Dean.

Dean pushed to his feet and turned away, one hand on his waist, the other rubbing the back of his neck. “Not exactly.”

Sam crouched down next to Ben, his knees popping with the motion, his eyes steady and serious. “Ben, there’s a lot of…history, here, that you’re not going to understand. And nobody here expects you to.”

“I just gotta follow orders, that it?” Ben snapped, his emotions tangling with the confusion and fear Sam had so accurately pinpointed.

Sam glanced up at his brother and Ben saw a small smile tip up the corners of his uncle’s mouth. “Yeah. Sometimes? That’s it. Believe me. I know how much it sucks. When Dean first told me the truth about all of this - why we always moved around, why Dad was always gone, why we didn’t have a mom…I was…I was really angry. And scared. And I didn’t want to do anything he told me to…pretty much
just becausehe was the one who told me the truth.”

John huffed out a bemused sigh and Dean sagged, shaking his head, but this, Ben understood. He understood it with an acuity that had him shifting to face his uncle fully, wiping his tears with the back of his hand.

“Why is it bad, Uncle Sam? That the amulet’s possessed?” Why can’t I just keep John with me all the time? Why can’t we all just be a family? You were just starting to get along…it was just starting to feel right.

He couldn’t bring himself to say the rest, but he could see in his uncle’s eyes there was a level of understanding that came with living through whatever Hell John had referred to earlier. Sam frowned and he glanced up at Dean again, not willing, it seemed, to be the one that Ben was angry with just because he’d told him the truth.

Ben followed Sam’s gaze and looked up at his father.

“Dad…please. Please, I gotta know.”

“Ben,” Dean started, his voice sounding tight, ancient, and so, so sad. “It don’t matter if the intention is a good one - when a spirit possesses an object simply so that it can remain corporeal and stay in the world beyond its lifetime…things happen. The spirit gets…angry. Resentful. Dangerous. We’ve seen it happen.” His eyes shifted to Sam and a pained look crossed his features. “It happened to the man who gave Sam that amulet.”

Ben reached up and rubbed at the warm metal. He looked at his grandfather. “But…you’re an angel, right? I mean, it’s different for you, isn’t it?”

John sighed. “I wasn’t lying to you, Ben-“ he started.

Ben narrowed his eyes, finally seeing what had twisted his father up so much in the arguments he’d witnessed. “But you didn’t tell me the whole truth, either.”

John shook his head. “No. No, I didn’t. Humans…can’t become angels. That’s not how it works. But, the job to be your Guardian was open, and it only works with a blood connection. Without the amulet anchoring me here, I’d be…,” he glanced at Dean, his dark eyes inexplicably sad, “a whisper in the back of your mind. Something that compels you to do something. Somebody in your dream. I wouldn’t be here.”

With vivid clarity, Ben suddenly remembered the voice that had propelled him from the room the night he’d walked in on the mangled body of his mother and the horrendous creature that’d killed her. It had sounded like the person had been right next to him - but he’d been alone. Or so he thought.

“Ben, I just…,” Dean started, his voice tight. He cleared this throat. “If this,” he waved his hand between John and Ben, “goes bad…I want it to fall on me. Okay? Not you.”

Ben looked at Sam. “You gave this to my dad?”

Sam nodded. “He never took it off. Not once. He-“ His voice cracked and he looked down. “There was a time when I had to take it off of him. But, I held it for him and when he was able to, he wore it again.”

There was a story there, Ben realized, filing it away under: questions to ask later.

He looked over at his father. “So, why don’t you have it now?”

Dean laughed weakly, dragging his hand down his face. “It’s a long story. And I was, uh…going through a hard time. I…threw it away.”

Ben looked down, nodding. Thinking. The room was silent. My last name might be Braeden, but I’m a Winchester, too

“Gramps,” he said, watching as John’s head popped up, looking directly at him. “You’re tied to this, right? And to whoever is wearing it?”

John frowned, but nodded.

Ben pushed himself to his feet, the Indian blanket pooling around his ankles. Sam stood up next to him. They were all staring at him. He felt his heart pounding but didn’t stop talking.

“And, Dad, your plan for trapping this Baal thing…it involves me staying back here with Gramps, right? Where I’ll be safe, and he can protect me because he’s corporwhatever?”

“Corporeal,” provided Sam, a smile in his voice as he’d apparently jumped to Ben’s endgame before Dean and John had.

“Uh…yeah,” Dean nodded, stepping away from the couch, his green eyes darting between his son and his brother, clearing asking what the hell?

“So, I keep the amulet until we get that thing,” Ben proposed, his voice only shaking a little bit, “and then…we can figure out what happens next.”

John chuckled. He slid his eyes to the side, catching Dean’s. “He’s your kid. No doubt about that.”

Dean was frowning, but Ben could see it wasn’t reaching his eyes. “I don’t know, Ben….”

Ben turned to his father, squaring off. “You said to me…you said we’d figure this out. You, me, Uncle Sam, and Gramps. You said that.”

“I know I did.”

“So…let’s figure it out, then. Follow your plan.” Ben stepped a little closer to Dean, both of them tense, like live wires. “It’s a good plan, you said. I’ll stay back here where you want me to. I swear, I won’t go storming off. I’ll be safe, here, with Gramps.”

Dean looked at Sam over Ben’s head, then his eyes skipped to his father, softening, it seemed, with a desire that Ben found he could acutely recognize. It was the need to have someone wrap their arms around him and tell him it was going to be okay. It was a need to have someone at his back.

“What if… Dad, what if you-“ Dean started.

“I haven’t so far,” John countered. “And this isn’t…spirit possession, Dean. This is an actual job. I’m supposed to be here.”

Dean looked at Sam again, and Ben twisted, watching his uncle’s face. An entire conversation seemed to transpire in that look and Ben felt the years of partnership between these two blend and meld and wrap all four people in the room into a safety net of understanding.

“You’re right, kiddo,” Dean said softly, reaching out and resting a warm, comforting hand on Ben’s shoulder. “We will figure it out. I’m not letting you go,” he pulled Ben in toward him, Ben’s face pressing against the soft flannel of his father’s sturdy chest. He turned his head to the side, leaning against his dad, and watching as Dean looked at Sam, then at John. “And we’ve got work to do.”

Sam grinned in response and John nodded, looking down, his whole face relaxing with a secret, quiet smile as he did so.

Ben knew Dean was right: they didn’t know what was going to come down the road. There was a demon after him - despite a sigil-covered forest and cabin - and his family was not going to let it get close. And when that was done…there was no telling what might happen with John. If he’d leave, come back, be a voice in his head, or a figure in his dreams.

All Ben knew for sure was that he had a family around him. A family. And no matter what the road held for him, as long as they were around him, nothing bad was going to happen.

Ben didn’t know how long John would be with him. Didn’t know how this fight would end. But he had the amulet and he had his family.

He was good.



Author’s Notes

The chapter’s titles are courtesy of Metallica. Special thanks to tiggeratl1and gaelicspirit. I mentioned them in the beginning but they deserve it again. Also, thanks to usmc75who as usual, allows me to bounce ideas off of him like he is a huge rubber ball. Poor guy.

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