Salt, Spirits, and Sam Winchester

Chapter 8 - Ben

Ben collapses into a chair opposite the people he thought were FBI agents back in his apartment. “Please re-explain everything you just said.”

Agent Weston - no, Sam - exhales a deep breath and goes through the story with Ben once more.

The ground shifts in front of a familiar gravestone. The leaves rustle as something moves beneath the dirt.

Suddenly, a hand breaks to the surface, then a torso. The figure is stained with grime and streaked with brown and black from the soil beneath. Gasping for air, the figure holds out a hand, inspecting the fingers and opening and closing a fist.

There is a ring on the hand. Drawing the hand closer, a tiny gold ring glints in the moonlight. It’s a simple band, and it’s tied into a little knot.

It’s the promise ring.

The figure that just emerged from my grave-

is me.

“We actually had something like this in the hometown of another hunter,” Sam finishes. “It was something to do with the reaper in the town. She was gone. But we got her back, along with all the others. And we’ll have to do that here, and soon.”

Ben stares at the two brothers, unable to comprehend what the younger one just told him. “You’re going to kill my girlfriend? Again?”

“Well, we technically didn’t kill her the first time, if that’s any consolation,” Dean replies. His brother hits him in the arm.

Standing up, Ben runs both hands through his hair. “No! You can’t, you can’t do that! Please! Maybe it’ll be different this time. Maybe she won’t turn. Just please, you can’t take her away from me.”

Sam stands up as well and rests a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “We know what you’re going through. Trust us, we’ve lost plenty ourselves.”

“No! Don’t touch me!” Ben yells, jerking away. Killing is all these people do! If anything, they’ve caused the most loss! No one could how how terrible Ben felt the morning of Emily’s funeral. It wasn’t humanly possible. “You don’t know anything about this stuff! You can’t even begin to imagine what I had to go through! I would walk past firearms stores, longing for the day I could buy one and shoot myself!” Ben collapses into the chair and pulls a small, square box with beveled edges from his pocket. It’s red, and it’s beautiful. Cracking the box open, he suppresses a cry.

The box tumbles to the ground, and Sam picks it up and looks at the ring inside.

“I was going to propose to her!” Ben shouts at the Winchesters. “I bought this after prom! That’s how long I’d known! She was perfect! She was the world to me!” Ben’s voice cracks. “And now she’s back, and so help me God I will not let anyone take her from me again.”

Still clutching the red box, Sam fights tears. This Ben kid sounds a lot like a younger, more naïve version of himself.

“We should leave,” a deep voice says from across the room. It sounds like someone driving on a gravel road slowly and painfully. “She’s coming.”

Ben raises his head to see a man in a trenchcoat standing opposite him. With a yelp, he nearly falls off the chair.

“Cas!” Dean exclaims in annoyance as he rises from his seat. “Don’t scare him! He’s been through enough.”

“There’s no time for pleasantries, Dean,” the man named Cas answers. “We need to vacate the building, and take the kid with us.”

Ben tries to open his mouth, but his voice is interrupted by the click of the doorknob. Tapping on her phone, purse over her shoulder, Emily Graves enters the room.