Sam took a long time to warm up to Benny. He saved him from Purgatory, for Dean’s sake. For some reason he couldn’t get the image of Dean’s hopeful face out of his head, knowing what it would do to Dean if he didn’t bring the vampire back.
Part of him hoped he was kidding himself. Dean wouldn’t miss Benny. Not that much. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave Benny behind, even when the vampire tried to pull out at the last second and save Sam and Bobby’s hide. Sam had to jump into the thicket with his bare hands and blade, help Benny rip those monsters apart until they had the room to perform the spell.
Benny looked pissed, but impressed. Sam tried not to read into it.
He was right, too. The look on Dean’s face when Sam pulled up his sleeves had been worth it. It had been worth everything.
They resurrected Benny’s body after everything was said and done. Sam watched his brother hug the vampire tight, hands squeezing the back of Benny’s jacket like he was afraid he might disappear again. Sam wondered what words they exchanged before Dean sent Benny in. He wondered if either of them fully believed Benny would come back.
Either way, he was back now. And Dean had made a room for him in the bunker. A room that was never used, Sam noticed.
He chalked it up to Benny being a vampire. He doubted the guy ever slept. But that thought was put on hold when he found Benny lounging in the library, feet propped up on a seat with his hat tucked low over his brow, gentle snores echoing from his lips.
It was after that Sam started paying a little more attention to what the vampire did in the bunker.
Mostly, Benny just played card games with Dean, or sat and studied with them, researched, helped with preparation and hunts. Nothing too noticeable or strange. At least, nothing too strange for a vampire.
He avoided any social interactions with Benny if he could help it. He didn’t trust the vampire, no matter how much Dean took a liking to him. It was just… odd. After thirty some years of Dean chopping off heads and telling Sam there was no such thing as a good monster, it was disconcerting to see his brother laughing and cheering with one.
Sam’s perspective finally changed one evening as he was reorganizing the pantry. It was late, too late for Dean or Benny to be wandering around the halls. So Sam wasn’t expecting to spot them when he finally wandered to bed.
The two had passed out in the living area, tucked up together on the couch in front of an old television Dean had been adamant about getting in the bunker when they first moved in. Benny’s sock-clad feet were propped up on the coffee table, his arm loose around Dean’s shoulders as his brother pressed his face into Benny’s shirt. A blanket had slipped down from their bodies and pooled in their laps.
Sam stared, unmoving. Then, he stepped forward. He grabbed the edges of the blanket and pulled the blanket back up to their shoulders, tucking it in until he was sure it wouldn’t fall again for the night.
He left them where they were and went to bed. He stared at the ceiling.
Maybe it was time he started to re-evaluate his perspective again.