Nothing Happens in Sommerville (Part Eleven)

“So, have you two thought about baby names, yet?” Mrs. Haynes asked.

Her chipper voice shattered the strained calm around the dinner table. Bennet shot a glare at her overly-bright grin. He’d hoped to get through this with as minimal conversation as possible. Sighing like the weight of the world was on her shoulders, Mallory forced her gaze up from the plate of food she’d been picking at before answering.

“I guess a little bit,” she said, sounding only half-awake. The dark shadows under her eyes were more pronounced as she managed a weak smile. “We don’t know if we’re having a boy or girl, though, so. . .”

She trailed off and returned to pushing a wilted carrot around her plate with her fork. Bennet forced himself to act oblivious towards her unusual behavior, despite how badly he wanted to comfort her. There was a hollow expression on her face that hadn’t left since their argument three nights ago. Over and over he asked her if she was still upset—if anything was wrong—but Mallory always brushed his concerns aside and said she was fine. Still, that numb stare was seriously starting to worry him. Especially since she’d seemed to be having more and more trouble sleeping.

“Surely you have some ideas,” Mrs. Haynes tried again. “What about a family name, like Dorothy or George?”

Bennet plastered a smile on his face despite the gleam in his eyes being one of pure loathing. “Yeah, maybe. We’ll think about it.”

“Naming him after some of the great men in our family is the least you can do, Bennet,” Mr. Haynes finally said in a self-important rumble.

Bennet ground his teeth together and said nothing. He always hated these “family dinners” he was forced to endure. Usually, Mallory was able to ease some of the awkwardness between Bennet and the strangers seated across from him, but since she was so out of sorts, he was left to face them himself. He’d tried to convince her to skip this one, but she’d insisted they go.

“I wouldn’t want to keep your mother from seeing you,” she’d said with a sad frown.

The problem was Mrs. Haynes wasn’t his mother. Haynes wasn’t even Bennet’s real last name. Very few people knew who Bennet really was, and those that did wouldn’t dare expose him. Not when he and Tye had enough dirt on all the people in Sommerville to start a witchhunt. Mutually assured destruction, Tye had once said with a smile, is the only way to keep people like that in line. 

Bennet tried to convince himself that he didn’t fall into the same category as the couple seated across from him. His real last name might be synonymous with death and violence, but at least there was no actual blood on his hands, unlike the Haynes family. Mrs. Haynes looked like a sweet, elderly woman, the kind who always had a kitchen full of freshly baked treats and put in an endearing amount of effort into maintaining her appearance. No one in Sommerville knew that she used to decorate her numerous houses with the pelts and horns of highly endangered animals, some of which were poached to extinction by her demands. 

Her surly bulldog of a husband was grumpy, but most people seemed to find his attitude amusing. Bennet had spent countless nights disgusted as he listened to Mallory laugh over something Mr. Haynes had said. He wondered if Mallory would still find his jokes funny after learning Mr. Haynes had been responsible for the destruction of most of America’s national parks. 

As the meal was finished in silence, Bennet found himself fuming. He couldn’t stand the Haynes. Even in the Before times when their paths would cross at dinner parties or charity galas, he’d always despised the self-obsessed couple and their disgusting mountain of ill-gotten wealth; wealth they’d used to buy politicians and cover-ups that allowed them to destroy lives unhindered. 

He’d never wanted them as a faux family. In fact, Bennet had been against this charade from the start. But Tye had insisted it was what was best for Mallory. The more positive memories she could make in Sommerville, the less she’d dwell on her old life. If she missed having a family, then damn it, she’d get one. Unfortunately for Bennet, that meant putting up with the only two who were old enough to pass as his parents and were under Tye’s thumb.

“Come up to the study, boy.” Mr. Haynes smirked at the scowl the nickname earned. “There’s business I’d like to discuss with you.”

The Haynes were also the only two who’d be willing to do just about anything for better living quarters and extra food rations. 

Assuming Haynes was trying to worm his way into a bigger share, again, Bennet rose to his feet with a reluctant sigh. He glanced at Mallory to see she hadn’t moved from the table. Mrs. Haynes was prattling on about God knows what, but Mallory didn’t seem to hear her. Her bright green eyes were miles away as she frowned at the whirls in the wood, one hand resting on her belly protectively. 

Resisting the urge to take Mallory as far from this place and these people as possible, Bennet followed his “father” up the stairs. Without an audience, both men fell into an uncomfortable silence. Mr. Haynes disliked Bennet just as much as Bennet hated him. The older man had complained to Tye—sometimes in front of Bennet—that the Wall Watcher didn’t respect him the way he should. The tantrums were always waved away with an eyeroll and a grumbled comment about ‘playing nice’ that neither Bennet nor Mr. Haynes heeded.

As Mr. Haynes opened the door to the study, Bennet braced himself for the argument he knew he was about to enter into. “Look, about the rations—”

Hands on his back interrupted him as someone shoved him with enough force to send him running into the large desk in the center of the room. He didn’t have a chance to defend himself before fingers gripped his hair and slammed his face into the polished wood. His attacker roughly released him and clucked his tongue disapprovingly. 

“And here I was worried this would be a challenge,” a familiar voice said. “I can’t believe you let your guard down so easily.”

Bennet struggled to stand with a groan. Bright red drops of blood on the desk held his attention, before he forced himself to turn around. The room swam and it took all his effort to make his disoriented senses focus on the man in front of him.

Willen smiled coldly when Bennet’s eyes finally met his. “Hey, buddy.”

“What. . .” Bennet struggled to form a question amidst his surprise. He had a feeling he might be concussed.

“Think you hit him too hard,” Mr. Haynes muttered from where he leaned against the now locked door. He shot a judgemental glare at Willen. “You were supposed to stun him, not break his brain.”

“He’s fine,” Willen drawled as he slapped a hand on Bennet’s shoulder, grinning at his flinch. “Right, Bennet? You’re not done in from one little blow, are you?”

Bennet looked between the two men, stomach flipping as even that much movement was dizzying. He rested a hand on the desk to steady himself and frowned at Willen with more confusion than anger.

“Did you break my nose?”

“No,” Willen scoffed, before looking at Bennet more closely. “Oh, wait. Yeah, no I did. Sorry about that.” He jostled Bennet with a playful grin. “Guess I really did hit you harder than I planned, huh?”

The Watcher released him when Bennet moaned like he was about to be sick. It was when Willen took a few quick steps back that Bennet noticed his odd outfit. The man was dressed all in black and was sporting a pair of gloves, like he was trying to avoid leaving any fingerprints behind. The all-black outfit, the abruptness of the attack, and the lack of surprise from Mr. Haynes all told Bennet one thing.

He closed his eyes in resignation. “What’d I do?”

“Apparently, you told Mallory you’re a murder,” Willen said flatly. He crossed his arms and groaned loudly when Bennet didn’t argue. “Seriously? Why the hell would you do that?”

Bennet thought back to that night with a distant frown. “It was late. . .”

Willen looked torn between amusement and exasperation. “I can’t imagine any scenario where something like that slips out during pillow talk.”

“Obviously I thought she was asleep or else I’d never have said it.”

“You shouldn’t have said it at all,” Mr. Haynes barked, a slight flush of anger coloring his cheeks. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done, you stupid boy?! If she starts telling everyone that you’re a killer, people are going to start poking into our business. It’ll only take one lucky idiot in the right place to realize who you are, and once they do, they’ll realize me and Eleanor aren’t your parents. Then we’ll get found out along with everyone else that’s in hiding here and all those fools will blame us for this mess! They’ll probably throw us over the wall!”

“It’s not going to come to that,” Willen cut in with an annoyed glance at Mr. Haynes. “There’s a reason only the Watchers have access to the armory. But even if someone did find their way in, I highly doubt anyone in Sommerville is smart enough to figure out why all our guns are Winchesters.”

A shiver ran up Bennet’s spine at hearing his family name spoken out loud after all these years. No one ever called him that anymore; except for Tye. Tye knew how much Bennet’s bloodline bothered him. Sometimes, usually when they were in a fight, Sommerville’s leader would brandish the name like a weapon. On one occasion, Tye had harshly reminded Bennet that the only reason he was in Sommerville was because Mr. Winchester had made a generous ‘donation’ to the compound; one that the prolific arms dealer knew was too good to be refused, even if it meant taking in his son.

Sommerville might be the smallest compound, but it was certainly the most well-armed.

“But,” Willen dragged the word out as he turned to Bennet with a sadistic twinkle in his eyes. “It was a reckless thing to do, Bennet. Another slip-up like this, and I might have to question your loyalty to Sommerville.” Bennet’s heart raced as Willen sized him up. “Your friendship with Tye can only be stretched so far, you know. If you threaten Sommerville’s survival, I’m sure he’ll have no problem disposing of you.”

Bennet didn’t doubt it. As much as he wished otherwise.

“It won’t happen again,” Bennet said as he braced himself. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

Willen cracked his knuckles. “Not yet, you haven’t.”

❂ ❂ ❂

It was only when he heard Willen’s huff of satisfaction that Bennet finally dared to open his eyes. He bit his lip at the pained whine that escaped him as he slowly sat up. Every part of his body hurt, but especially his stomach and chest. Willen had seemed to really enjoy striking him there again and again and again. . .

“Hm. If I hadn’t watched with my own eyes, I’d say you barely touched him.” Mr. Haynes sounded like he was observing a piece of artwork in a museum.

“That’s why Tye trusts me to keep people in line.” He flashed Bennet a nasty smile. “And why you’re only in charge of disposing bodies.”

Yet I know what’s really going on and you don’t, Bennet wanted to retort. Instead, he turned his focus to the damage Willen’s lesson had left behind.

The blood on his face had long since dried after Willen ‘corrected’ his bent nose. He’d feel a little tender there, but for the most part would look physically unharmed. He was lucky enough to not have earned any broken bones, though that may have only been due to Mallory’s presence downstairs. It’d be hard to explain how that had happened when he was supposed to be having a casual conversation with his alleged father.

But Bennet hadn’t gotten off easy. He knew that under his shirt, his entire torso was a bruised mess from Willen’s fists and boots. His throat was on fire from when Willen had wrangled him into a headlock, cutting off his airway, spots filling Bennet’s vision until he’d completely blacked out. Choking wasn’t the norm for Tye’s punishments, but Bennet knew better than to ask if Willen had gone rogue or not. Besides, there wouldn’t be any fingerprints on his neck to give Willen away.

With great effort, Bennet rose to his feet, hisses of pain accompanying each step as he forced himself to the door. Mr. Haynes’s expression was coldly smug as he extended a finely embroidered handkerchief with an unspoken command. Bennet snatched the cloth and kept his expression blank as he scrubbed the blood from his face. He had just managed to get his racing pulse under control when Willen cleared his throat.

“One last thing, Bennet.” Willen waited until Bennet turned. For a moment, the two Watchers stared each other down, assessing the other’s usefulness and the risk it would be to destroy one another. Apparently pleased at where he stood, Willen smiled and lowered his voice. “Tye has another message for you.”

“Which is. . .?”

“Keep a tighter leash on Mallory.” He looked at Bennet meaningfully. “Or else he will.” 

Panic constricted Bennet’s lungs tighter than Willen’s arms had. He could hear the voice of Sommerville’s leader in his mind, repeating the words with all the menace he’d no doubt intended for Willen to convey.

Chuckling at Bennet’s frozen stare of horror, Mr. Haynes opened the door and pushed Bennet through it.

“After you, son.”

❂ ❂ ❂

“You and your dad were talking for a long time today.”

Bennet cracked an eye open at Mallory’s voice. He could see the dim silhouette of her lying beside him. She hadn’t wanted his arms around her in a while. Her insistence that it was due to discomfort from the pregnancy or being too hot only confirmed his worst fear: She didn’t trust him anymore.

And if she didn’t trust him, did that mean she didn’t love him? 

“Yeah, I guess.” He hoped the hoarseness in his voice would sound like it was from exhaustion, not from getting half-strangled.

“What did you two talk about?”

 “Nothing.” He resisted inching closer. “What did you and my mother talk about?”

Mallory shrugged. “Nothing. Baby stuff.”

They both fell silent again, though Bennet was now far from sleep. The darkness weighed on him, like it was some looming animal about to pounce. His heart began to beat with an anxious staccato as he studied Mallory’s form. She was right there and yet she felt so painfully far. Drifting away out of his reach and into deadly fingers that were waiting to snatch her from him forever—

“Did you mean what you said?”

Her voice was barely a whisper, yet Bennet could hear the tremble in it as she finally turned to face him. He felt a stab of pain at seeing the tears on her cheeks as she searched his expression with desperation.

“You would do anything to keep me,” she reached for his hand and placed it on her stomach, “Us, safe?”

Underneath his palm, he could feel the restless movements of their child as it kicked, impatient for its day of freedom. Bennet trailed his fingers up and down Mallory’s stomach before nodding.

“Anything.” 

A troubled shadow passed over her face and she bit her lip before asking, “Even. . . even kill for us?”

Bennet’s hand froze as he stared at Mallory with wide eyes. She really had heard him that night. Which meant she’d spoken to Tye. 

Willen’s message about Mallory suddenly made a horrifying amount of sense.

Despite the consequences of disobedience being fresh on his mind, Bennet pulled Mallory into his arms. She went willingly, embracing him just as tightly, as her lips found his with a fervor that made it hard to think straight. He welcomed each ache of pain from Mallory’s touch against his bruised chest, knowing he’d happily take a lifetime of suffering if it meant he got to have this for a moment longer.

Bennet looked at Mallory with an adoration that bordered on worshipful as he promised, “I’d burn this compound to the ground for you.”