Salt, Spirits, and Sam Winchester

Chapter 6 - Ben

Two agents brandishing FBI badges greet Ben at his apartment door as he comes back after grabbing groceries.

“Here, I can take that for you,” the taller one says, reaching out a hand.

Ben passes one of the plastic grocery bags to him. “And who exactly are you?”

“I’m Agent Frederickson and this is Agent Weston,” the shorter, stockier one says to Ben, and the agents show their badges one more time, in perfect sync.

“Um, hi, I guess,” Ben replies. “Here, I’ll unlock the door and you can have a seat, agents. I assume this is about Emily?”

Agent Weston sets the bag he was carrying on the counter and joins Agent Frederickson at the table as Ben put the rest of the bags with Agent Weston’s. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything for you to drink,” he apologizes. “I’m only twenty.”

“What’s stopping you?” Agent Frederickson blurts.

Ben raises an eyebrow. “I thought you were the FBI?”

“Yeah, yeah, we are,” Agent Weston says quickly, shooting Agent Frederickson a glare. “We just have a couple of questions for you.”

Pulling out a chair, Ben sits across from the two agents.

“So, your girlfriend, Mr. Nelson. We have reports that she was dead, and now she’s not?” Agent Weston says.

Ben nods. “Yes, that’s right. Emily died April of my senior year of high school. I remember it like it was yesterday. But, now she’s back.”

“Where is she now?” Agent Weston asks.

“At school, trying to enroll. We had other plans in high school, but those never happened.”

Agent Frederickson stares at Ben. “And this doesn’t strike you as strange at all? She was dead, and now she’s living and breathing! It doesn’t seem at all unnatural to you?”

Shaking his head, Ben begins to speak. “Of course it does! I mean, this doesn’t happen every day! But, I really don’t care. I was devastated when she died. You see, she never told me about the tumor. She wanted it secret so I-” Ben exhales and rakes a hand through his hair. “So I didn’t think any differently of her. Believe me, I came pretty close to finding out a couple of times, but I had no clue until she died. All I knew was that she was sick in the hospital. I spent all my time with her. I skipped every day of school, up until she died. Then, I only came back…” Ben bites his lip and takes another breath. “I only came back to school because she wanted me to go to Juilliard, and I knew I would have to pass to get in.”

The agents, who had been silent for this entire speech, exchange glances. “Well, obviously that was not what happened, Mr. Nelson,” Agent Weston observes. “Can you tell us why?”

Ben looks back up at the agents. “Why does the FBI even care about this, anyway? Yeah, I didn’t go to the school I’d been dreaming about since the fifth grade, but so what? Why do you care?”

“Anything helps, Mr. Nelson. Just tell us all you know,” Agent Frederickson says.

Ben nods again. “Well, I ended up going here, to Iowa, because that’s what my dad wanted.”

“I know all about that,” Agent Frederickson cuts in. “Go on.”

“I also went here because I couldn’t touch my trumpet again. I was at the top of my section from age ten on, but I just couldn’t do it anymore. Emily was a trumpet player, too, and it reminded me too much of her.” Ben pauses, collects himself, then speaks again. “So I went to Iowa. And there I was, studying for Abstract Algebra, when she said my name. After all that time, she was back. She is back. It’s been the best days of my life.” Ben grins at the table, then at the agents, who return broken deadpans. “What? What’s wrong?”

Agent Frederickson takes a long, deep breath. “Okay, Mr. Nelson, you aren’t going to believe us, but that girl isn’t your girlfriend. She’s going to turn on you, and soon. Has she begun to get hungry yet? Like, really hungry?”

Ben’s eyebrows rise and knit across his forehead. “What are you saying? No!” He leans closer to the agents. “You’re not actually FBI, are you?”

Agent Weston sighs. “No. I’m Sam Winchester and this is my brother, Dean. Trust us. We deal with this stuff for a living. We know about this stuff. It’s happened before. People died, Mr. Nelson. Your girlfriend will die. Again,” Sam stumbles.

Standing up, Ben’s mouth opens, then closes. “No. No, Sam and Dean, no. You’re crazy!”

“We get that a lot,” Dean replies. “And you have to trust us. We’re telling the truth.” Turning to his brother, he raises an eyebrow. “Should we show him the car?”

“What car?” Ben asks.