Chapter Text
Purgatory. April 4, 2013. "It does present a curious curl in the metaphysics, doesn't it? If you murder a monster in monster heaven, where does it go?"
These were the first words Benny Lafitte thought after being torn limb from limb. He saw Sam Winchester whipped away by the portal, then felt slashes and gashes and finally, decapitation.
Technically, he shouldn't be thinking at all, having been killed on earth and again in Purgatory. But, should thought still be available to him, why exactly was he thinking of the stupid angel that bogged his initial escape from this place? Worse, he had a strong desire to find the angel and fill him in.
When a monster dies in purgatory, the soul moves to another layer. The word 'layer' or 'level' is not, as it happens, a good descriptor, as it inspires parallels to cake and onions and other ridiculous examples that don't properly encapsulate the complexity of an alternative plane of existence.
After dying on earth, death didn't really stick. That didn't stop it from hurting like hell, but it did make the entire situation a little more manageable for Benny, who had just been ejected from the initial plane to a plane filled with individuals he, Dean, and the angel had killed the year before.
Curiosity grabbed the vampire; he had to investigate more. He had all of eternity after all. Why not better himself with his time? Over the next month, Benny hunted down werewolves, vampires, vatela, kitsune, anything that'd been there long enough to know anything useful. He learned the best bet was a dragon, even though slaying a dragon was almost as difficult as dealing with Leviathans.
Benny uncovered quite a bit. The initial plane, or entry plane, of purgatory was the first stop for all newly dead monsters, with exceptions for certain species, certain modes of death, that kind of thing. Only the strongest and fastest of the ranks maintained position in this plane, which is closest to Earth, to Hell, and, rumor has it, to Heaven, too.
This movement of souls caused a general coalescence of personality types unknown to the entry sector of purgatory. Nonviolent monsters, being killed frequently, ended up in some deep rung of the plane. Of course, some individuals could traverse the different layers of their own accord. Eve had free reign of the general area, and Alphas seemed to inherit her wiles, as did many of the Leviathan.
It wasn't long after that Benny heard whispers about demons in purgatory. The idea was ridiculous, but again, curiosity pushed him forward.
Earth. September 15, 2013.
Dean walked along a dark corridor. No windows. No doors. No exit. He wondered why he wasn't panicking. Before he could think too hard, the darkness turned to blood, and suddenly the ocean around Dean smelled of decay and iron and the taste stuck in his mouth.
Yet he remained unafraid.
It all stopped. Fire and blood and darkness. All that he could make out in the dimming tide was a name: Andrew Hickles.
Dean jerked awake. He was on a couch. In a cabin. He must've fallen asleep. Before he forgot, he grabbed a piece of paper and pen and scribbled down the name. A few moments after that, he fell back asleep.
The next morning, Dean scouted out the place. It's a single level cabin with a deep basement. There's no panic room, but he could fix that. He walked the outside. The landscaping didn't need anything. Located near Wall, South Dakota, the cabin was well hidden among the rocks of the badlands, yet it was also near the highway. It even had a nook to park two or three cars, if needed. It was the perfect place for a hideout.
Gordon Walker used this place before, or at least that's what Bobby wrote in one of his infinite notebooks. In Latin. Freaking Latin! After Sam translated it, they'd both assumed it had been destroyed some time ago.
After the destruction of Rufus's Cabin, and Dean's stomach lurched at the very thought of it, he needed to set up other safe houses. Places to stash people or to hide out, so as to not attract too much attention to the Bunker's location.
The place hadn't been used for at least five years, so a cleaning was definitely needed. A purification ritual, definitely, just in case. Then sigils, hex bags, a panic room. Maybe a week's worth of work.
Dean needed this. Something to do that wasn't life-and-death, located somewhere other than the Bunker, where Cas needed to be.
Damn it, he kept thinking about Cas, and every time he did that, his brain played through the arguments, which melted down to Dean pleading with the angel to stay at the Bunker, the only place he could safely dodge the God Squad. Dean threw a punch into the cabin's wall. And now his hand hurt.
He picked up his phone and stared at Sam's number for a while. Did he want to know how things were going?
He decided he didn't, so he texted Sam an update. He'd be here for a week.
In reality, he didn't think it'd take him more than a day or two to do basic preparation, but it'd take him at least a day to drive out to Maine and dig up Benny, then another to drive back. And he needed a little more time to figure out how to bring him back.
Dean remembered the name he'd written down. If Benny was sending him messages from the beyond, then the name of someone to help him get Benny back would be sensible.
Sam texted him back immediately. "Will haul supplies up to you tomorrow."
Dean rolled his eyes. Sam really couldn't give him any freaking space, could he? But he wanted to see his brother. He wanted an update on Cas.
Damn it, now he's thinking about the angel again.