A/N: So, this is my first fic. I'm nervous. And of course, it's also one of the weirdest things I've ever written before. The prompt came from a friend of mine, (Leviathan Castiel), so you can blame her. All mistakes, and I'm sure there will be some, are mine. All characters and plot are, of course, not. So, don't sue me or whatever. Enjoy.

Three thoughts went through Benny's head as he first set eyes on Dean Winchester.

First and fleeting, I'm thirsty. Secondly and most importantly, finally, my ticket outta this dump! And, thirdly to temporarily banish the rest, well damn, don't he look like a slick back pretty boy?

Then, of course, the hunter lopped off the head of one of the nasty good for nothing beasts that paraded around purgatory and moved onto the next.

From the dense foliage, Benny admired the fight. And Dean Winchester. But mostly the fight and not at all the way his muscles bulged under his rolled up sleeves while he waved his make-shift purgatory axe around and carved arcs of blood and entrails out of his assailants.

See, Benny didn't care about that bit. Not in the slightest. Because he had a plan. A pretty well thought out, mildly fool proof plan—and he'd just gotten the last piece of the puzzle. Therefore, he did not care how much that pieces' green eyes flamed in the flat light of purgatory.

Benny had priorities.

And when the second vampire leapt out of the trees and bum-rushed 'ol Green-eyes, Benny leapt into action.

Because of the plan.

Not because of dirty blond hair, freckles and green grass eyes.

As he stood over the newly dead corpse at the point of Green-eyes' axe, he smiled. "What? No thanks for saving your hide?"

And that was how their tenuous friendship (if you could call mutual benefaction a friendship) began.

The third thing Benny found out about Dean Winchester (after his mistrust of everything monstrous and the number of kills under his belt) was how much he was obsessed with 'the angel.'

His angel.

Benny, from a non-moral moral standpoint, detested angels. He was a vampire. A creature of the night. And he just didn't think a harp-playing pigeon would get along with all that.

Also, the look in Dean's eyes would flare bright and the hand on his weapon (because there was always a hand on his weapon—this was purgatory) would tense whenever he mentioned it: his angel.

Benny didn't like it.

They couldn't afford to be distracted. This was an all-or-nothing opportunity—limited time only offer. And they had enough trouble slipping around purgatory—avoiding the nastier occupants—without Dean stopping every five seconds to demand,

"Where's the angel?"

But Benny knew that to assure the success of his plan, he had to appease to Dean's obsession. At least until Green-eyes finally wised up and realized they weren't ever going to find the angel. Ever.

After one particular ambush, as Benny spat a little tendon and joint (from one unfortunate monster) onto the dirt, Dean snorted.

"Meat a little tough there, Benny?"

Benny smoothed a grin over his lips. "Just the way I like it, cowboy." He could flirt. It had been decades but he could still do it.

Dean looked a little affronted at that, but still managed a cocky swagger as he threw his purgatory axe over his shoulder. "Cowboy?"

Benny smirked. "You look like you know how to ride 'em."

Surprisingly, that didn't earn him a death glare. Which was definitely progress. Very promising progress. And while Benny had never been, and wasn't, that patient of a gentleman, he could wait for Dean Winchester.

Wait and send out a few helpful nudges in the right direction.

Because snarky flirting after beheading a few monsters just couldn't cut it all the time.

Nope. Benny had to make some grand gestures.

He interrogated (looking for that blasted angel) with his own dramatic, vampire flair. Just to show off a bit. Even if he couldn't get the disgusting taste of stale blood out of his mouth for days.

Dean had been remarkably unimpressed.

After about three invitations from Benny to help Dean wash up (and Dean shutting him down with an icy glare and very vague, very off-putting threats) another route of propositioning had to be taken.

Benny tried the conventional "Wanna share my side of the fire?" routine and "Wouldn't it be much more comfortable with less clothing?"

These all led to a few hours of the cold shoulder and once a punch in the back of the head. But Benny refused to give up. There was a…a fire in Dean. A raging inferno that burned all the brighter in the midst of a fight. Warmth that Benny couldn't resist.

It reminded him of Andrea, and Benny tried very hard not to think of her.

Yet, under the dim, starless purgatory sky, fire the only flickering source of light, it sometimes seemed to Benny's eyes that Dean was made of explosions.

Beautiful, beautiful explosions.

So, by the time they'd interrogated at least twenty unfortunate purgatory souls, Benny was at the point where a crass "Wanna fuck?" might be his last resort.

Until the incident.

It was a very small thing. Almost not worth mentioning.

Dean had taken Benny's advice from when they first met ("First rule of purgatory kid, you can't trust no one.") shockingly serious. And while they fought together and ate together and took watches at night, Benny knew Dean was watching. Watching and waiting for the moment Benny would show a little too much fang, or whatever the hell 20 years of monster hunting gave Dean prejudices about.

Dean never put his weapon away. He never slept with his back to Benny. He ate at a cautious distance, and whenever he caught Benny taking a feeing there would be a combination of wariness and disgust on his face.

A mix that hurt.

It had been years since Benny experienced such a look, and, not that he had any misconceptions about Dean (he was a monster hunter after all), but it still stung to see it on Dean's face. Like a rattlesnake bite. Or deadman's blood. But Benny could shoulder it.

But then, they'd gotten stuck in a fight. Some of the usual, when they were searching for victims to play 20 questions with, but perhaps they'd bitten off a bit more than they could chew.

Benny was cornered by two snarling vampires, and one ugly ass kitsune. From what he could see, between dodging obsidian black steel and hissing fangs, Dean had his hands full with the group's two ring leaders, vetalas. Damnit.

"Dean!" Benny barked just in time to get a chuck of muscle torn out of his arm by the kitsune. He spat out a curse.

The kitsune lunged. Benny swung his blade but only brushed the top of its head. It successfully tackled him to the ground, frothing and hissing above him.

Disgusting.

The vamps dropped down immediately and clamped hands over his arms before Benny could attempt another swing.

He was royally fucked.

"Uh, might have a problem over here, cowboy."

Dean had the point of his axe to one of the vetalas' throats, staring down the other with steely indifference. "Losing your touch over there, Benny? You know we don't have time for this."

Maybe they would if they didn't have to stop every goddamn second to look for that stupid angel—

"Making friends with a vampire," the vetala with the knife to its throat hissed. "How far you've fallen Dean Winchester."

Benny wanted to roll his eyes. Here they go again.

"Seeing as I got this," Dean pressed the blade hard enough to draw a little blood, "on your neck, I wouldn't say too much."

Benny struggled under the might of his three monster captors. "Ain't really the time for small talk, sweetcheeks. 'Getting a little claustrophobic over here."

Then the second vetala decided to put its two cents in. "Why? Afraid we'll turn your human pet against you?"

"No, it's jus' damn uncomfortable here on the ground with—"

"Because you're a liar, hmm?"

"We know what you're hiding from him," the first one crooned up to Dean. "Hasn't told you how the portal works, huh? Said you'd both go through." It laughed. "Precious that you just believed him. Vampires are known silver tongues."

Benny went cold. He couldn't read Dean's face. Was there betrayal there? Doubt? Rage? Did Dean believe them? Benny had never really explained the escape hatch in detail. Was that coming to bite him in the ass now?

He struggled harder. "Dean—"

"Benny," Dean said with clear warning.

Benny was paralyzed. Shit. Had he just blown it? Had those two random ass vetalas just obliterated his chance with Dean—no no, for escape? Benny knew Dean didn't trust him. He should have taken out the vamps, or at least the kitsune sooner. He shouldn't have let them get a single word out. He should've—

There was wet SPULCH! Then the thud of something heavy falling to the ground.

A scream. Another wet slurp and thud.

The vamps leapt up.

Benny leapt up too, stabbed the kitsune through the heart and flipped around fast enough to watch Dean bury his axe in the neck of the last vampire.

"Man, I hate it when they can't take a hint." Dean patted a firm hand on Benny's shoulder. "Sometimes you gotta know when to just shut the fuck up."

Benny laughed nervously. Were they okay? Was Dean smiling to his face and ready to chop off his head the second his back was turned? "Yeah, uh, didn't you wanna ask 'em about—"

Dean's hand tightened on his shoulder. "Next time."

"'Course, 'course." Benny sighed. It was fine They were fine. He should've known Dean was too stubborn to ditch him.

Dean shoved him. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Nope. Just a tiny internal crisis. "Only your face, gorgeous."

Dean turned away from him then, towards the clump of bodies on the ground, and Benny couldn't help but notice the way the purgatory sun (whatever the hell it was) lit his hair golden.

"You aren't so bad," Dean muttered.

Benny blinked. What in the hell? "Having second thoughts?" About taking him up on his offer? About working with Benny? About not killing him?

"No." Dean stooped down, next to the last vampire corpse.

"Feelin' sentimental then? In your old age?"

Dean laughed. Not exactly a happy one. But at least a chuckle. "Shut up, Methuselah."

"Ain't nice to call names, cowboy."

Later that night Benny had realized two things. Dean had never left his back to Benny that long, and he hadn't even had his axe in hand their entire conversation.

Maybe there was hope after all.

They fought more battles after that. To the point where Benny knew Dean's moves and he knew Benny's and they fought like a choreographed duo. They made jokes around the fire at night. Dean let Benny go off on his own and still trusted him to come back.

It was comfortable. At least, as comfortable as purgatory got.

It was maybe weeks later (purgatory time was shifty) when finally, Benny worked up his courage, his resolution.

It had taken a while, a lot of second-guessing, but he'd made up his mind. That night, he'd ask. He'd bold face confront Dean Winchester without innuendo and ask him to knock boots like a proper gentleman.

Benny could almost see the priceless look of surprise on Dean's face. The way his eyebrows would rise or lips part just a so.

He could see the dark guarded disgust that would follow.

Benny tried to be hopeful. He wanted to believe Dean's surprise would melt into a content smile and he'd say something charming—"About time stupid." Or "You'll keep the fangs away when we're making out, right?" Then, they'd lean forward and smudge dirty cheeks together, but it'd be okay because Dean's lips were warm and bright just like the rest of him.

Yeah, Benny had way too many fantasies about it.

But the easy partnership just begged to be turned into more.

It was late in the afternoon, and they were walking. Dean was particularly less stiff and gruff and actually listening to Benny tell tales of adventure in purgatory from the decades before. He couldn't quite keep the anticipation out of his voice.

Tonight was the night.

At least it was until the bushes rustled and a godforsaken monster stumbled out from the undergrowth.

Silently, Benny cursed God.

Dean jumped the poor sucker and they had the thing tied up against a tree in seconds. Any trace of goodwill disappeared and Dean turned into The Hunter. The Interrogator. The Torturer.

He nodded Benny forward and the interrogation began.

It looked like Benny would have to wait.

"I don't think he knows, man." Benny backed away from the poor monster. How many times had he said the same thing, over so many different victims? He didn't know how Dean could stand it.

There wasn't much more the thing could take, though, and the duo would be on their way soon enough.

"Oh, he knows."

Benny looked up. The cold anger hadn't left from his companion. Dean was still lost in it.

"Where's the angel?" he snarled.

Benny almost felt bad for the monster under Dean's axe, but sacrifices had to be made. Benny wanted out. Dean wanted out. Freedom came at a price.

Even if this search was pointless.

That stupid angel was probably charbroiled on some monster's spit.

Benny would let Dean work his frustrations out on the unsuspecting monster, and maybe tomorrow…maybe then he could—

"There's a stream."

Benny froze.

Dean's anticipation was practically palpable. "Go on."

"It runs through a clearing not far from here. I'll show you."

No, Benny thought, can't be. Stupid thing's just trying to save its own hide. Can't possibly know where the angel is…

"Three days' journey. Follow the stream. There's a clearing. You'll find your angel there."

Quietly, softer than a whisper of wind through leaves, Benny could hear his dreams, his fantasies, combust into flames and burn to dust.

After Dean took care of their informer, it was like the devil himself had lit a fire under his feet. There was suddenly no time for breaks, stops or rests. No time to sit and eat. No time to ease back into their mindless chatter as they followed the silvery stream.

Every time Benny attempted to start a conversation, Dean monosyllable'd him into silence. Benny could feel his attention drifting away from the trees and dirt before them to the misty future—to his angel.

Away from his vampire.

Benny was an idiot. A goddamn fool.

Falling in love with a hunter? A hunter hell bent on finding his angel? The only interest he had in Benny was how to get out of purgatory. He'd probably screw him over in the end anyway.

Yet, there were the little, thin smiles. The rough laughs. The whispered conversations in the dark. His innumerable freckles. His green—real world grass—eyes.

And if Benny was a fool, he was the king of idiots because he had no intention of letting an angel steal that away from him.

Dean pushed them walking (really jogging) through the night, and when Benny let out a half-hearted complaint, Dean had snapped. "Then don't come. I'll do it alone."

Benny hadn't uttered a word since.

He was running out of time. At the pace Dean had them at, they'd reach the clearing within the day. Minutes were ticking his chances away. As they got closer, any positive possibility was fading faster and faster.

If he couldn't get his confession out with just the two of them, it'd be impossible with the angel. Impossible.

"Dean," Benny said. What was he doing? For Christ's sake, this was the worst timing ever. Did he want to get rejected the badly?

"What?" Dean grunted. He wasn't slowing down.

Benny sped up, so they were borderline running side by side. Too bad his head had gone mysteriously blank. "Do you…am I…I think…" Oh hell nothing made sense. What was he supposed to say? The icky vampire has a crush on you? Wanna give up looking for you angel-buddy and just go away with me? Promise I don't bite? Unless you like that kind of thing.

"Chill, Benny. What's your problem today?" Dean's eyes were plastered to the path, but Benny had never felt so…focused on before. Like his breaths were being counted and measured.

"…What'd ya' mean?" He'd been quiet, but that was nothing too out of the normal.

Dean huffed. "The brooding? Seriously, it's like you're from some YA romance novel. Lighten up a bit."

Benny was in shock. He most definitely was. Dean had…noticed? In his haze of angelangelangel Dean had noticed him? Maybe…

"I think I might be—" But Benny never got to finish his sentence. Never got to say what might have changed it all. Never got to find out what might have happened because suddenly, without warning, Dean jerked.

He paused in the path like someone had just cut his power cord.

And the look on his face: pure astonishment. Then he'd jerked again, more like a full body shiver, and took off, faster than Benny had ever seen him move before.

Benny sprinted after him, and as they rounded the corner…

"CAS!"

If Benny had thought he knew Dean Winchester before, he was thoroughly mistaken. The expressions on the hunter's face were so foreign, so entirely alien, that Benny wondered for one quick second if he was even the same person.

"Dean."

And then Benny got his first look at Dean's angel.

At first all Benny could see was the purgatory dirt that covered them all, then his scruff (like the ruffians off the streets in Benny's time). He was ordinary. Scrawny even. No hint of Heavenly might or the blond, white-robed, harp-playing being Benny had imagine.

Perfectly, infuriatingly normal.

Except for the eyes. Hidden amongst dirt-caked skin were cool blue eyes like mirrors. Shining and shining with a light like Dean's.

Benny saw, and he knew.

He knew by the way that Dean embraced his angel. By the way his shoulders had fallen like the sky was finally lifted. By how Dean's face split wide and this happy entity that Benny had never seen before burst from within. By the way Dean laughed, light and almost in disbelief—"Damn, it's good to see you."— He knew.

And for one heart-breaking moment, Benny mourned.

But Benny Lafitte did not survive the Vampirates, the loss of the love of his life(and afterlife), and purgatory just to be destroyed by the unrequited affections of one bow-legged, green-eyed numbskull in flannel.

However, he needed to know something. Benny was like a dog with a bone, so close to letting it go, if he just found out— "Why'd you bail on Dean?"

"Dude—"

Benny ignored him. "The way I hear it, you two hit monster land, and hot wings here took off. I figure he owes you some backstory."

Dean turned on him. "Look, we were surrounded, okay? Some freak jumped Cas. Obviously, he kicked its ass, right?" Benny could barely disguise his flinch. Of course Dean would leap to protect his angel.

Of course.

Except, turned out this angel wasn't so loyal and noble this time round.

"No." The angel answered.

"What?"

Benny would have smiled, if he weren't so pissed.

"I ran away."

Dean took a step back. "You ran away?"

How quickly it had soured. Benny wanted to be happy. This was what he wanted. But the twisted betrayal that took over Dean had eradicated his happiness—and Benny was sad to see it go.

"I prayed to you, Cas, every night."

Benny hadn't noticed. Had he really missed something so obvious? How could he have ignored such obvious evidence? From the beginning, and even now as they argued, Benny never had a chance.

The world seemed to single down to just the two of them with the intensity of their focus. Like they existed in a completely new dimension. — "Cas, we're getting out of here. We're getting home."—

Benny could've been in an entirely different universe.

The angel shook his head. "Dean, I can't."

"You can." The earnestness in his face, in his voice was just too much. "Benny, tell him."

Just like that, their own little cocoon world shattered open again, and Benny could breathe. "Purgatory has an escape hatch, but I got no idea if it's angel-friendly."

Benny scowled. He could tolerate this—accept it, but fighting it the whole way was just so much more his style. And if that presumptuous, prick angel thought the world owed him something (because that was how he fucking acted after Dean did all this shit for him, and he still tried to tell him to get lost) Benny wasn't just going to lie down and take it.

He was, at the very least, Dean's friend. And as far as Benny knew, friends looked out for each other.

"Cas, buddy, I need you."

And with one sentence all his fire extinguished. Gone. Burnt out. Chilled over by those cool blue eyes.

But Benny should have known from the beginning.

There's no love in purgatory for a vampire.

-END-