They ride in relative silence for a while, the only noises coming from some crickets and the horse's occasional clip-clop over a patch of rock; Benny never was one for unnecessary small talk. It's the most peaceful Dean's felt in a while, aside from the lack of Sam. But the occasional squint at the lowering sun is enough for assurance that they're indeed headed roughly west, so hopefully they'll be able to remedy that soon enough.
Dean's dozing uncomfortably against Benny's back when they finally halt for the night, shadows deep enough to get lost in and the fireflies just starting to flicker around them. "As good a place as any," Benny says, and it's like old times again, aside from the horse and silly costumes--well, and no need to worry about a Leviathan showing up to chomp on them.
Benny has actual supplies for the night--apples, and bear meat ("Don't tell me we need to sleep in the trees," Dean moans; he did it in Purgatory from time to time, but it was almost worse than just staying awake. "That's what the horse is for," Benny says, and Dean's to tired to work out if that's a joke or not, so he just goes with it), and a pair of bedrolls. All Dean has to contribute is his ceremonial knife, but it's better for cutting up the meat than the slab of metal Benny's hauling around, so at least he can do something useful while Benny gets a fire going.
They don't talk much while eating--Benny never was one to pry, and Dean knows this is all just make-believe anyway--but it's companionable, and Dean's headache is finally beginning to ease up a bit. All in all, not a bad way to spend the evening, even when Benny gives Dean the choice between looking after the horse and collecting firewood. Seems kind of pointless to brush the thing, since they're all covered in horse hair and sweat at this point, but Sam says the same thing about Dean's obsession with keeping the Impala washed and waxed, so what the hey. At least the horse has mellowed up since their introduction, and mostly just stands there patiently. Dean's toes get stepped on only twice, so he really can't complain.
And then Benny's back with the wood and the fire's carefully set up for the night, and Dean's finally allowed to curl up in his bedroll and go to sleep.
There's a rock digging into his ribs and a strand of grass keeps tickling the back of his neck but he's too tired to care.
"G'night, chief," Benny says, off in the distance somewhere, and then it's lights out.