Fic: The Shattered One (26/?)
See the masterpost for disclaimer, summary, and previous parts.
The building Hannah had been all but knocked into was some kind of workshop. Even in the scant light coming through the front windows, she could make out work benches, machines, and half-finished projects lying neglected and abandoned, never to be finished.
They could hear the monsters outside, swarming through the alley. Several of the infected had jumped out at their group from a door opening on to the alley, slavering mad and screaming bloody murder, just like Rob had. One of the things had pinned Dean to the wall. Another had lunged for Hannah. Hannah still wasn’t really sure how she’d ended up in here, but she suspected her big sister had a lot to do with it. Cait was always looking out for her.
Cait had probably pushed Hannah into the building. And Cait was the one who slammed the alleyway door closed and threw the deadbolt to lock out the monsters.
Then it was just the two of them, breathing hard in the frightening silence.
The baby strapped to her chest made a pitiful noise.
Three of them.
“Are you okay, Hannah?” Cait moved toward her, shoving her gun into her pants to reach out and examine her little sister.
Hannah nodded shakily. “I… I think so… are you…” Hannah saw a glint of something wet and shiny in the slanted light. A reflection on Cait’s arm. Blood.
“Cait?” Hannah squeaked.
Cait looked down at the wound and closed her free hand over it far too calmly… too resigned.
“You… you’re okay, right?” Hannah’s voice trembled.
“Yeah… yeah, I’m good, sis.”
The baby Daniel whimpered, and Hannah folded her arms over his little body, hugging him close. He wasn’t her sweet Elsi, but he needed her. Hannah wasn’t good for much in this disaster, but she could care for Daniel. She knew how to watch over a newborn.
That didn’t mean she wasn’t terrified out of her mind, though. She started to shake. She thought Caitlyn would hug her, comfort her like she had since Hannah was small, but Cait didn’t. She kept her distance.
Hannah felt herself starting to cry.
“Come on, Hannah… that boy needs you to be strong.”
“I… I can’t do this… without… I need you, Cait.”
Cait looked around the dark workspace a moment, thinking. Then she pulled out her gun and held it out to Hannah.
Hannah’s eyes shot up to her sister. “What… why are you giving that to me?”
“Just take it, sis… I want you to hide here while I go for help.”
“No… no! Don’t leave me here. I’ll come with you! Please!”
Cait smiled painfully. “You can’t come with me, Hannah. Stay here… I’ll go after the others, tell them where you are. They’ll come back for you.”
“No, Cait, please!” Hannah lurched forward, making a grab for her sister’s arm.
“Don’t!” Cait leapt back, out of reach.
Hannah fell to her knees, sobbing. With nothing else to do with her hands, bereft by a sister that wouldn’t hold her, Hannah clung to Daniel and rocked, weeping.
Cait inched closer, knelt, and laid the gun on the floor next to Hannah. “Be brave, sis.”
“I’m not! I’m not you, Cait.”
“I’ll send help for you,” Cait promised. She darted forward, too swiftly for Hannah to try and get a hold of her, and kissed Hannah on the forehead. Then she was pulling away and stepping back.
“Cait, please…” Hannah wept.
“I love you, sis.”
And then Cait was gone.
Hannah sat on the floor, crying, rocking the baby in her arms more out of ingrained behavior than anything else. Elsi loved being rocked so much.
She didn’t know how long she sat there, or how long she might have, if a sharp banging on the back door didn’t startle her out of her bout. Her head jerked up and she looked toward the door, eyes wide in the darkness. Sniffling wetly, Hannah reached down and picked up the gun. Keeping it aimed at the locked door, she staggered to her feet, free hand holding the baby close, and crept backward.
She found a spot under one of the heavy wooden desks to hide. She crawled into the space, tucked her legs up to completely fit inside, and sat heaving for breath, gun awkward in her right hand and left hand familiar on the baby.
Daniel was breathing tightly, like her, like he knew they were in trouble. He wasn’t crying, like he knew they were hiding.
“You’re going to be okay,” Hannah whispered thinly. “You will… Cait’ll come back and we’ll get out of here, and… and your dad will be there, and he’ll hold you, and hug you, and kiss you, and he’d never… he’d never hurt you…” she started to hiccup, “because fathers love their babies. They wouldn’t hurt them… ever.”
Daniel’s left arm stretched up and he closed a tiny fist in the material of Hannah’s shirt.
Hannah put the gun on the floor next to her and devoted both hands to cradling the baby.
The darkness seemed to go on forever. The silence of the workshop an eerie contrast to the sounds of violence beyond the building’s walls. Hannah pushed it to the edges of her awareness, pretended it wasn’t actually happening. It was a violent movie on TV in the other room. It wasn’t real. But Daniel was… his reassuring warmth and sweet sebaceous skin and soft, soft hair. He wasn’t as fair or delicate as Elsi, not as beautiful as her wonderful daughter, but still so precious.
Hannah snuggled down in the cramped space and whisper-sang, “Hush, little baby, don’t say a word… papa’s gonna buy you a mocking bird… and if that mocking bird don’t sing, papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring…”
She was on the looking glass when she realized the sounds of the vicious hordes outside had stopped.
For a second, she didn’t even dare to breathe, holding Daniel close to her pounding heart and straining to hear anything. The dead silence was almost more terrifying than the screaming and pounding.
Hannah peeked out around the corner of the desk. “Cait?” she ventured cautiously. “Cait?”
“Fraid not, sugar,” a strange woman’s voice intoned from the other side of the desk.
Hannah jumped and craned out of her hiding hole enough to look over the desk at the source of the voice. A woman with olive skin and dark hair was standing there, looking down with a wry smirk on her face.
Wry, but she didn’t look manic or crazed.
“Who are you?”
“Oh, who I am doesn’t matter. I’m only interested in two names, and neither one of them is mine. I’d like to ask you if you’ve seen some friends of mine.”
Hannah noticed for the first time how cramped her muscles had gotten being crammed in her hiding space. She felt safer coming out now that she wasn’t alone. “Friends? Are they hunters?”
“Why, yes, as a matter of fact.”
Hannah wormed out of her hiding place and stood to face the woman.
The stranger’s eyes landed on Daniel and went wide. Then they turned completely black.
Hannah flinched back.
“Well, well, what have you got there?” the stranger said in a low voice. She moved around the table slowly.
Hannah ducked and picked up the gun. “Stay back!”
“Oh, honey, please… you can’t hurt me with that thing. But hand over the angel baby, and maybe I won’t snap your neck.”
Hannah closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger, over and over again. The gun recoiled in her hand, seemingly a bucking live creature in her grasp, and half the shoots were going wild, but she kept firing. When the gun started making a dry click sound every time she pulled the trigger, Hannah took a peek.
And her jaw dropped at the woman, totally unruffled, standing there with a hole burrowed through her neck. Light peeked through from the other side, but the woman wasn’t bleeding or dying. Instead, she looked smug.
“Ouch… now that’s going to hurt… you, I mean.”
Then, suddenly, the black-eyed woman was right in Hannah’s face, hands coming up. Reaching for the baby.
“No! Don’t touch him! Don’t!” Hannah dropped the gun and started kicking and scratching the stranger in a frenzy. “Don’t hurt her! Don’t, Rob, don’t!”
Hannah felt a hand slip past her strikes and settle almost casually on her neck. It tightened sharply.
It tingle-hurt, sang sourly in her body, then it all stopped.
******************
Lucifer felt the presence of a brother, the warm grace of another angel, as one of his demons approached him with a screaming child in her arms.
“I didn’t find the Winchesters, my Lord, but I found this. I thought it might please you.” She gave him the baby and stepped back submissively, head bowed.
The baby’s cries stopped the second he left demon hands.
Lucifer stared down at the child, taken quite by surprise. He immediately recognized Castiel’s grace in the infant. But he knew Dean Winchester’s soul when he saw a piece of it, too.
Unbidden, Lucifer began to grin.
“So full of surprises, Castiel,” he muttered half in wonder. He brought the child to his chest, held it close, and felt it drawing off his grace. It fussed a little, like Lucifer’s grace was sour milk, but it continued to soak in the archangel’s grace all the same.
“I don’t know what they christened you, little one,” Lucifer cooed to the child, “but it should have been Chip… because you’ll be the perfect one for bargaining for Sam’s consent.”
He lifted his eyes from the baby and addressed his minion, “Show me where you found this baby… the Winchesters won’t be far.”
Next
The building Hannah had been all but knocked into was some kind of workshop. Even in the scant light coming through the front windows, she could make out work benches, machines, and half-finished projects lying neglected and abandoned, never to be finished.
They could hear the monsters outside, swarming through the alley. Several of the infected had jumped out at their group from a door opening on to the alley, slavering mad and screaming bloody murder, just like Rob had. One of the things had pinned Dean to the wall. Another had lunged for Hannah. Hannah still wasn’t really sure how she’d ended up in here, but she suspected her big sister had a lot to do with it. Cait was always looking out for her.
Cait had probably pushed Hannah into the building. And Cait was the one who slammed the alleyway door closed and threw the deadbolt to lock out the monsters.
Then it was just the two of them, breathing hard in the frightening silence.
The baby strapped to her chest made a pitiful noise.
Three of them.
“Are you okay, Hannah?” Cait moved toward her, shoving her gun into her pants to reach out and examine her little sister.
Hannah nodded shakily. “I… I think so… are you…” Hannah saw a glint of something wet and shiny in the slanted light. A reflection on Cait’s arm. Blood.
“Cait?” Hannah squeaked.
Cait looked down at the wound and closed her free hand over it far too calmly… too resigned.
“You… you’re okay, right?” Hannah’s voice trembled.
“Yeah… yeah, I’m good, sis.”
The baby Daniel whimpered, and Hannah folded her arms over his little body, hugging him close. He wasn’t her sweet Elsi, but he needed her. Hannah wasn’t good for much in this disaster, but she could care for Daniel. She knew how to watch over a newborn.
That didn’t mean she wasn’t terrified out of her mind, though. She started to shake. She thought Caitlyn would hug her, comfort her like she had since Hannah was small, but Cait didn’t. She kept her distance.
Hannah felt herself starting to cry.
“Come on, Hannah… that boy needs you to be strong.”
“I… I can’t do this… without… I need you, Cait.”
Cait looked around the dark workspace a moment, thinking. Then she pulled out her gun and held it out to Hannah.
Hannah’s eyes shot up to her sister. “What… why are you giving that to me?”
“Just take it, sis… I want you to hide here while I go for help.”
“No… no! Don’t leave me here. I’ll come with you! Please!”
Cait smiled painfully. “You can’t come with me, Hannah. Stay here… I’ll go after the others, tell them where you are. They’ll come back for you.”
“No, Cait, please!” Hannah lurched forward, making a grab for her sister’s arm.
“Don’t!” Cait leapt back, out of reach.
Hannah fell to her knees, sobbing. With nothing else to do with her hands, bereft by a sister that wouldn’t hold her, Hannah clung to Daniel and rocked, weeping.
Cait inched closer, knelt, and laid the gun on the floor next to Hannah. “Be brave, sis.”
“I’m not! I’m not you, Cait.”
“I’ll send help for you,” Cait promised. She darted forward, too swiftly for Hannah to try and get a hold of her, and kissed Hannah on the forehead. Then she was pulling away and stepping back.
“Cait, please…” Hannah wept.
“I love you, sis.”
And then Cait was gone.
Hannah sat on the floor, crying, rocking the baby in her arms more out of ingrained behavior than anything else. Elsi loved being rocked so much.
She didn’t know how long she sat there, or how long she might have, if a sharp banging on the back door didn’t startle her out of her bout. Her head jerked up and she looked toward the door, eyes wide in the darkness. Sniffling wetly, Hannah reached down and picked up the gun. Keeping it aimed at the locked door, she staggered to her feet, free hand holding the baby close, and crept backward.
She found a spot under one of the heavy wooden desks to hide. She crawled into the space, tucked her legs up to completely fit inside, and sat heaving for breath, gun awkward in her right hand and left hand familiar on the baby.
Daniel was breathing tightly, like her, like he knew they were in trouble. He wasn’t crying, like he knew they were hiding.
“You’re going to be okay,” Hannah whispered thinly. “You will… Cait’ll come back and we’ll get out of here, and… and your dad will be there, and he’ll hold you, and hug you, and kiss you, and he’d never… he’d never hurt you…” she started to hiccup, “because fathers love their babies. They wouldn’t hurt them… ever.”
Daniel’s left arm stretched up and he closed a tiny fist in the material of Hannah’s shirt.
Hannah put the gun on the floor next to her and devoted both hands to cradling the baby.
The darkness seemed to go on forever. The silence of the workshop an eerie contrast to the sounds of violence beyond the building’s walls. Hannah pushed it to the edges of her awareness, pretended it wasn’t actually happening. It was a violent movie on TV in the other room. It wasn’t real. But Daniel was… his reassuring warmth and sweet sebaceous skin and soft, soft hair. He wasn’t as fair or delicate as Elsi, not as beautiful as her wonderful daughter, but still so precious.
Hannah snuggled down in the cramped space and whisper-sang, “Hush, little baby, don’t say a word… papa’s gonna buy you a mocking bird… and if that mocking bird don’t sing, papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring…”
She was on the looking glass when she realized the sounds of the vicious hordes outside had stopped.
For a second, she didn’t even dare to breathe, holding Daniel close to her pounding heart and straining to hear anything. The dead silence was almost more terrifying than the screaming and pounding.
Hannah peeked out around the corner of the desk. “Cait?” she ventured cautiously. “Cait?”
“Fraid not, sugar,” a strange woman’s voice intoned from the other side of the desk.
Hannah jumped and craned out of her hiding hole enough to look over the desk at the source of the voice. A woman with olive skin and dark hair was standing there, looking down with a wry smirk on her face.
Wry, but she didn’t look manic or crazed.
“Who are you?”
“Oh, who I am doesn’t matter. I’m only interested in two names, and neither one of them is mine. I’d like to ask you if you’ve seen some friends of mine.”
Hannah noticed for the first time how cramped her muscles had gotten being crammed in her hiding space. She felt safer coming out now that she wasn’t alone. “Friends? Are they hunters?”
“Why, yes, as a matter of fact.”
Hannah wormed out of her hiding place and stood to face the woman.
The stranger’s eyes landed on Daniel and went wide. Then they turned completely black.
Hannah flinched back.
“Well, well, what have you got there?” the stranger said in a low voice. She moved around the table slowly.
Hannah ducked and picked up the gun. “Stay back!”
“Oh, honey, please… you can’t hurt me with that thing. But hand over the angel baby, and maybe I won’t snap your neck.”
Hannah closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger, over and over again. The gun recoiled in her hand, seemingly a bucking live creature in her grasp, and half the shoots were going wild, but she kept firing. When the gun started making a dry click sound every time she pulled the trigger, Hannah took a peek.
And her jaw dropped at the woman, totally unruffled, standing there with a hole burrowed through her neck. Light peeked through from the other side, but the woman wasn’t bleeding or dying. Instead, she looked smug.
“Ouch… now that’s going to hurt… you, I mean.”
Then, suddenly, the black-eyed woman was right in Hannah’s face, hands coming up. Reaching for the baby.
“No! Don’t touch him! Don’t!” Hannah dropped the gun and started kicking and scratching the stranger in a frenzy. “Don’t hurt her! Don’t, Rob, don’t!”
Hannah felt a hand slip past her strikes and settle almost casually on her neck. It tightened sharply.
It tingle-hurt, sang sourly in her body, then it all stopped.
******************
Lucifer felt the presence of a brother, the warm grace of another angel, as one of his demons approached him with a screaming child in her arms.
“I didn’t find the Winchesters, my Lord, but I found this. I thought it might please you.” She gave him the baby and stepped back submissively, head bowed.
The baby’s cries stopped the second he left demon hands.
Lucifer stared down at the child, taken quite by surprise. He immediately recognized Castiel’s grace in the infant. But he knew Dean Winchester’s soul when he saw a piece of it, too.
Unbidden, Lucifer began to grin.
“So full of surprises, Castiel,” he muttered half in wonder. He brought the child to his chest, held it close, and felt it drawing off his grace. It fussed a little, like Lucifer’s grace was sour milk, but it continued to soak in the archangel’s grace all the same.
“I don’t know what they christened you, little one,” Lucifer cooed to the child, “but it should have been Chip… because you’ll be the perfect one for bargaining for Sam’s consent.”
He lifted his eyes from the baby and addressed his minion, “Show me where you found this baby… the Winchesters won’t be far.”
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