Fic: The Shattered One (27/?)
See the masterpost for disclaimer, summary, and previous parts.
They never made it to the Fort Knox convenience store. They only made it a block, at best, before they were overrun and forced to flee. The group was pressed to take refuge in an apartment building foyer, packed between the outer doors and inner and hoping it was safe enough because the inner doors were boarded closed and the front had iron grates over the windows. Ellen shoved her rifle through the door handles to stop the Croats from pushing it open after them.
Dean was clamoring to get out as soon as they were shut inside. Sam pulled him off the door handles and pushed him toward the wall. “Dean! Stop it!”
“Daniel’s out there, Sam!” Dean yelled, fighting at his brother’s hold. Sam had been practically dragging Dean along since the alleyway, and Dean was mad about every inch put between him and his son.
“And we’re not leaving him out there,” Sam insisted. “Not a chance in hell we’re leaving him… but if we’re going to get him back, we have to be smart about it. Getting ourselves ripped to pieces won’t help Daniel.” Sam looked sympathetically at him a second, then said more softly, “We don’t even know if they can hurt him. He’s mostly angel, remember? He could be indestructible as far as those things go.”
It was a theory Dean would just as soon never actually test out. He stopped struggling against his brother, though. “Those fuckers lay a finger on him, and I’ll rip their lungs out.” Whether it harmed Daniel or not, if they touched him, they were dead.
“And I’ll hold ‘em down while you do,” Sam swore.
“Touching as this is,” Gerald groused as he put his weight behind holding one door shut (Nathan putting his shoulder into the other), “anyone actually have any bright ideas about how to not end up Croatoan zombies?”
Admittedly, their odds weren’t looking good. A sea of Croats were spilling down from the steps of the apartment building and filling the street. It looked like a deranged flash mob or fanatic Twilight fans trying to touch the greasy hair of that scrawny, emo vampire-wannabe douchebag.
The combined weight of the crowd pushing at the front doors made the hinges creak ominously. Ellen’s rifle in the handles rattled and threatened to slip, while Gerald and Nathan were shaking with the effort to hold the doors in place.
“Whatever we come up with, we better come up with it fast,” Jo pointed out unnecessarily.
“Sam,” Ellen grabbed the stronger brother’s arm, “help me get these off.” She gestured at the boards keeping them out of the rest of the apartment building. Which for all they knew could be holding in more Croats, but at this point they might as well take the chance.
Dean shouldered through the tight space in the foyer to help, and the Harvelles and Winchesters went to yanking and tugging and prying and pulling at the boards nailed over the entrance.
“Hurry up, you guys,” Nathan grit out between clenched teeth.
“We’ve almost got it,” Sam replied as he pulled back on a corner of the board, throwing his weight onto his heels in hard jerks like a dog playing tug-of-war with a toy.
One of the front doors let out a splintering crack. The glass behind the iron bars broke and ended up on the ground, crunching under their shoes.
“Shit,” Jo turned away from helping pry off the boards, leaving the job to stronger members of the group, and stuck her gun barrel through the broken glass and shot the nearest Croat in the face. Another was there to take its place, and Jo gave it the same warm welcome. Then another. And another.
Then the gunshots stopped.
“I’m out!” Jo called.
“We’ve got it!” Sam said victoriously as he pulled off the last board and shoved it to the side. The doors into the apartment building swung open, the rooms beyond unknown but offering at least a better chance at survival than they had going for them in the other direction.
Just as Dean was wondering how the hell they were going to get Nathan and Gerald to safety without them holding the doors closed…
… everything stopped.
The teeming mass of Croats outside the building went silent. They stopped trying to climb over themselves to reach the hunters. They stood eerily still, like so many gruesome statues.
The silence was deafening, after all that they’d grown accustomed to cacophony.
Dazed, everyone in the cramped foyer turned and stared outward at the motionless crowd. Nathan and Gerald slowly let up on the doors and straightened, staring out at the inexplicable scene.
“What in the holy god damn hell,” Gerald murmured.
“Dean?” Sam whispered without looking his brother’s way, too leery to take his eyes off the Croats staring back blankly at them through the doors’ bars.
“I have no clue, man,” Dean answered.
Suddenly the Croats were moving again. But not in a mad scramble to reach the hunters. They were leaving. And not in an orderly fashion. They were scattering, running like cockroaches when the kitchen light went on. In a matter of moments, the street in front of the apartment building was completely deserted.
The hunters looked at one another in turn.
“Okay… anything? Anyone? Because I’ve got a big zero here,” Dean grumbled. And it was taking everything in him not to bolt out of the building and go look for his son, the reason for the sudden quiet be damned. Daniel was out there like a siren’s call to Dean’s soul.
“I don’t know,” Ellen said in a hushed voice, “maybe…”
But she didn’t get to finish. Suddenly the street was no longer empty. Appearing out of nowhere to the accompaniment of unseen-but-heard wing beats, a single man with a bundle in his arms stood in the middle of the street. He looked up at the building… looked up, and somehow he seemed to look down at it, too.
“I know you’re in there, Sammy! Come on out so we can have a chat,” the figure spoke sinister and smooth at once, his presence turning the very air around him bitter and singed.
“Lucifer,” Sam breathed.
Several of the others sucked in a breath.
The bundle in the Devil’s arms moved.
“He’s got Daniel,” Dean growled incredulously, furiously, and he shoved aside Ellen’s rifle and pushed through the doors before anyone could stop him. He marched down the concrete steps, full of a fury so strong he was sure he could rip the kidnapping bastard’s head off, archangel or no archangel.
He heard Sam hurrying after him, but only Sam. The others stayed in the building… perhaps Sam had managed to warn them not to throw spitballs at the giant. Or maybe they had some smidgen of common sense not to tangle with Satan… sense the Winchesters obviously lacked.
Dean came to a stop a few feet in front of Lucifer. His hands fisted at his sides so he wouldn’t actually throw himself like a crazed Croat at the dickwad holding his boy. “Give me my son, you asshole.”
“Who, this little guy?” Lucifer tickled Daniel’s cheek. “But we’re just getting to know each other.”
“Give him back, Lucifer,” Sam said when he came up next to Dean.
At that, Lucifer’s head came up and he looked seriously at Sam. “Well, I tell you what, Sam… I think we could make an arrangement.”
Dean stiffened. Rage and indignation were joined by an overpowering dose of panic. He couldn’t choose between his son and his brother. He couldn’t pick between Daniel and Sam, he just couldn’t.
But Sam probably wouldn’t leave that decision up to him, and that was terrifying. After everything, was this how it ended, with Sam saying yes in Detroit?
“What did you do to Cas?” Dean growled, hoping to stall for time. To gain them what, he didn’t know, but he couldn’t see it end. Not after all they’d done and how hard they’d fought.
“Ah, yes… Castiel.” Lucifer shrugged easily. “Let’s just say he’s out of the way.” Then he locked a wicked, impish look on Dean. “I must say, Dean, I’ve got to applaud you for turning Heaven’s plan for you so delightfully on its head. Here they were trying to get an angel all up in you, and instead you go and get all up in an angel.” His eyes dropped to the baby and he chuckled. “Truly, a demented joke to do Gabriel proud.”
“Shut your pie-hole, you giant dick, my son’s not a joke.”
“Oh, he really is. A cosmic one. Not that I can’t appreciate something that’s sure to get Heaven’s panties in a royal twist.” Like an obscenity, Lucifer tucked Daniel close to him. Dean’s nostrils flared when he saw Daniel snuggle close, the way he did to Castiel. He knew Daniel was leeching grace from the archangel. The thought of that monster’s grace in his son was revolting.
“So, Sam,” Lucifer drawled, petting Daniel’s back like a super-villain in a James Bond movie stroking his cat, “I imagine you can guess the deal I’m going to propose.” Lucifer’s fingers curled slightly, like claws against Daniel’s back, and Dean’s heart jumped into his throat. Maybe the Croats couldn’t have hurt Daniel, but Lucifer could certainly burn him out of his body. Dean had a gut-wrenching mental image of Daniel lifeless on the ground, the scorched pattern of tiny little wings spread out beneath him.
“First,” Sam said quickly. Dean shot a glance at him, but Sam wouldn’t look at his brother. “First… a show of faith.”
Lucifer frowned and gave a theatric sigh. “Where’s the trust? I’m hurt, Sam.” After a disappointed shake of his head, Lucifer asked, “Exactly what kind of ‘show of faith’ are you suggesting?”
Sam gestured over his shoulder at the apartment building. “Our friends… send them somewhere safe.”
And Dean could understand that, he could. If this all went to hell and Sam said yes, their friends (standing quite literally at ground zero) were dead meat. Not that Lucifer in his brand-spanking-new Sam-suit couldn’t just go right after them, wherever he sent them, but surely Lucifer would have other priorities once he finally got his prized ride than chasing down a handful of hunters.
“I can do that.” Lucifer freed a hand to whisk the hunters in question elsewhere.
“In this universe, in the present! Not a long time ago in some galaxy far, far away,” Sam hurried to clarify.
Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Spoilsport.” Then he flicked his wrist in what looked more like a dismissive wave. Dean turned to look over his shoulder and found the apartment building foyer empty.
They’d done that much, at least.
“And now… your turn, Sam,” Lucifer said pointedly.
“What about Daniel?” Sam countered.
“Is that his name?” Lucifer asked absently. He glanced down at the baby. “When I’m with you, I’ll give him to Dean.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“Scout’s honor. When you and I are one and the same, I promise I’ll give the boy to Dean,” Lucifer smiled sweetly, “and angels always keep their promises.” At Sam’s wary look, Lucifer added, “You’ll have to have a little faith, Sammy… because really, what choice do you have?”
Sadly, none.
When Sam still hesitated, Lucifer narrowed his eyes, and the barest hint of his ire was almost buckling. “I’m done playing games with you boys. It’s crunch time and I’m out of patience. So you give me consent to take my proper vessel, or this child dies. Simple as that. Could you ever forgive yourself for letting that happen, Sam? Could your brother ever forgive you?”
Dean wanted to do something, anything, stop this, change fate and buck destiny and fucking win against the universe. But at that moment, watching the Devil cradle his son and knowing his brother was contemplating becoming an archangel meatsuit, Dean didn’t see a way out.
“What’ll it be, Sam?” Lucifer demanded.
Sam turned to look at Dean. He was going to do it. Dean could see it in his brother’s eyes. Apology and love and regret and their entire fucking childhoods in Sam’s eyes. The self-sacrificing bitch. He was going to give himself up for Dean’s son.
And Dean couldn’t make himself stop Sam, because he couldn’t lose Sam, but he couldn’t lose Daniel either. God definitely didn’t give a shit, because what kind of god would make Dean choose?
Or maybe… maybe he didn’t have to pick.
Dean closed his eyes and thought as loudly as he could.
‘Michael…’
Next
They never made it to the Fort Knox convenience store. They only made it a block, at best, before they were overrun and forced to flee. The group was pressed to take refuge in an apartment building foyer, packed between the outer doors and inner and hoping it was safe enough because the inner doors were boarded closed and the front had iron grates over the windows. Ellen shoved her rifle through the door handles to stop the Croats from pushing it open after them.
Dean was clamoring to get out as soon as they were shut inside. Sam pulled him off the door handles and pushed him toward the wall. “Dean! Stop it!”
“Daniel’s out there, Sam!” Dean yelled, fighting at his brother’s hold. Sam had been practically dragging Dean along since the alleyway, and Dean was mad about every inch put between him and his son.
“And we’re not leaving him out there,” Sam insisted. “Not a chance in hell we’re leaving him… but if we’re going to get him back, we have to be smart about it. Getting ourselves ripped to pieces won’t help Daniel.” Sam looked sympathetically at him a second, then said more softly, “We don’t even know if they can hurt him. He’s mostly angel, remember? He could be indestructible as far as those things go.”
It was a theory Dean would just as soon never actually test out. He stopped struggling against his brother, though. “Those fuckers lay a finger on him, and I’ll rip their lungs out.” Whether it harmed Daniel or not, if they touched him, they were dead.
“And I’ll hold ‘em down while you do,” Sam swore.
“Touching as this is,” Gerald groused as he put his weight behind holding one door shut (Nathan putting his shoulder into the other), “anyone actually have any bright ideas about how to not end up Croatoan zombies?”
Admittedly, their odds weren’t looking good. A sea of Croats were spilling down from the steps of the apartment building and filling the street. It looked like a deranged flash mob or fanatic Twilight fans trying to touch the greasy hair of that scrawny, emo vampire-wannabe douchebag.
The combined weight of the crowd pushing at the front doors made the hinges creak ominously. Ellen’s rifle in the handles rattled and threatened to slip, while Gerald and Nathan were shaking with the effort to hold the doors in place.
“Whatever we come up with, we better come up with it fast,” Jo pointed out unnecessarily.
“Sam,” Ellen grabbed the stronger brother’s arm, “help me get these off.” She gestured at the boards keeping them out of the rest of the apartment building. Which for all they knew could be holding in more Croats, but at this point they might as well take the chance.
Dean shouldered through the tight space in the foyer to help, and the Harvelles and Winchesters went to yanking and tugging and prying and pulling at the boards nailed over the entrance.
“Hurry up, you guys,” Nathan grit out between clenched teeth.
“We’ve almost got it,” Sam replied as he pulled back on a corner of the board, throwing his weight onto his heels in hard jerks like a dog playing tug-of-war with a toy.
One of the front doors let out a splintering crack. The glass behind the iron bars broke and ended up on the ground, crunching under their shoes.
“Shit,” Jo turned away from helping pry off the boards, leaving the job to stronger members of the group, and stuck her gun barrel through the broken glass and shot the nearest Croat in the face. Another was there to take its place, and Jo gave it the same warm welcome. Then another. And another.
Then the gunshots stopped.
“I’m out!” Jo called.
“We’ve got it!” Sam said victoriously as he pulled off the last board and shoved it to the side. The doors into the apartment building swung open, the rooms beyond unknown but offering at least a better chance at survival than they had going for them in the other direction.
Just as Dean was wondering how the hell they were going to get Nathan and Gerald to safety without them holding the doors closed…
… everything stopped.
The teeming mass of Croats outside the building went silent. They stopped trying to climb over themselves to reach the hunters. They stood eerily still, like so many gruesome statues.
The silence was deafening, after all that they’d grown accustomed to cacophony.
Dazed, everyone in the cramped foyer turned and stared outward at the motionless crowd. Nathan and Gerald slowly let up on the doors and straightened, staring out at the inexplicable scene.
“What in the holy god damn hell,” Gerald murmured.
“Dean?” Sam whispered without looking his brother’s way, too leery to take his eyes off the Croats staring back blankly at them through the doors’ bars.
“I have no clue, man,” Dean answered.
Suddenly the Croats were moving again. But not in a mad scramble to reach the hunters. They were leaving. And not in an orderly fashion. They were scattering, running like cockroaches when the kitchen light went on. In a matter of moments, the street in front of the apartment building was completely deserted.
The hunters looked at one another in turn.
“Okay… anything? Anyone? Because I’ve got a big zero here,” Dean grumbled. And it was taking everything in him not to bolt out of the building and go look for his son, the reason for the sudden quiet be damned. Daniel was out there like a siren’s call to Dean’s soul.
“I don’t know,” Ellen said in a hushed voice, “maybe…”
But she didn’t get to finish. Suddenly the street was no longer empty. Appearing out of nowhere to the accompaniment of unseen-but-heard wing beats, a single man with a bundle in his arms stood in the middle of the street. He looked up at the building… looked up, and somehow he seemed to look down at it, too.
“I know you’re in there, Sammy! Come on out so we can have a chat,” the figure spoke sinister and smooth at once, his presence turning the very air around him bitter and singed.
“Lucifer,” Sam breathed.
Several of the others sucked in a breath.
The bundle in the Devil’s arms moved.
“He’s got Daniel,” Dean growled incredulously, furiously, and he shoved aside Ellen’s rifle and pushed through the doors before anyone could stop him. He marched down the concrete steps, full of a fury so strong he was sure he could rip the kidnapping bastard’s head off, archangel or no archangel.
He heard Sam hurrying after him, but only Sam. The others stayed in the building… perhaps Sam had managed to warn them not to throw spitballs at the giant. Or maybe they had some smidgen of common sense not to tangle with Satan… sense the Winchesters obviously lacked.
Dean came to a stop a few feet in front of Lucifer. His hands fisted at his sides so he wouldn’t actually throw himself like a crazed Croat at the dickwad holding his boy. “Give me my son, you asshole.”
“Who, this little guy?” Lucifer tickled Daniel’s cheek. “But we’re just getting to know each other.”
“Give him back, Lucifer,” Sam said when he came up next to Dean.
At that, Lucifer’s head came up and he looked seriously at Sam. “Well, I tell you what, Sam… I think we could make an arrangement.”
Dean stiffened. Rage and indignation were joined by an overpowering dose of panic. He couldn’t choose between his son and his brother. He couldn’t pick between Daniel and Sam, he just couldn’t.
But Sam probably wouldn’t leave that decision up to him, and that was terrifying. After everything, was this how it ended, with Sam saying yes in Detroit?
“What did you do to Cas?” Dean growled, hoping to stall for time. To gain them what, he didn’t know, but he couldn’t see it end. Not after all they’d done and how hard they’d fought.
“Ah, yes… Castiel.” Lucifer shrugged easily. “Let’s just say he’s out of the way.” Then he locked a wicked, impish look on Dean. “I must say, Dean, I’ve got to applaud you for turning Heaven’s plan for you so delightfully on its head. Here they were trying to get an angel all up in you, and instead you go and get all up in an angel.” His eyes dropped to the baby and he chuckled. “Truly, a demented joke to do Gabriel proud.”
“Shut your pie-hole, you giant dick, my son’s not a joke.”
“Oh, he really is. A cosmic one. Not that I can’t appreciate something that’s sure to get Heaven’s panties in a royal twist.” Like an obscenity, Lucifer tucked Daniel close to him. Dean’s nostrils flared when he saw Daniel snuggle close, the way he did to Castiel. He knew Daniel was leeching grace from the archangel. The thought of that monster’s grace in his son was revolting.
“So, Sam,” Lucifer drawled, petting Daniel’s back like a super-villain in a James Bond movie stroking his cat, “I imagine you can guess the deal I’m going to propose.” Lucifer’s fingers curled slightly, like claws against Daniel’s back, and Dean’s heart jumped into his throat. Maybe the Croats couldn’t have hurt Daniel, but Lucifer could certainly burn him out of his body. Dean had a gut-wrenching mental image of Daniel lifeless on the ground, the scorched pattern of tiny little wings spread out beneath him.
“First,” Sam said quickly. Dean shot a glance at him, but Sam wouldn’t look at his brother. “First… a show of faith.”
Lucifer frowned and gave a theatric sigh. “Where’s the trust? I’m hurt, Sam.” After a disappointed shake of his head, Lucifer asked, “Exactly what kind of ‘show of faith’ are you suggesting?”
Sam gestured over his shoulder at the apartment building. “Our friends… send them somewhere safe.”
And Dean could understand that, he could. If this all went to hell and Sam said yes, their friends (standing quite literally at ground zero) were dead meat. Not that Lucifer in his brand-spanking-new Sam-suit couldn’t just go right after them, wherever he sent them, but surely Lucifer would have other priorities once he finally got his prized ride than chasing down a handful of hunters.
“I can do that.” Lucifer freed a hand to whisk the hunters in question elsewhere.
“In this universe, in the present! Not a long time ago in some galaxy far, far away,” Sam hurried to clarify.
Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Spoilsport.” Then he flicked his wrist in what looked more like a dismissive wave. Dean turned to look over his shoulder and found the apartment building foyer empty.
They’d done that much, at least.
“And now… your turn, Sam,” Lucifer said pointedly.
“What about Daniel?” Sam countered.
“Is that his name?” Lucifer asked absently. He glanced down at the baby. “When I’m with you, I’ll give him to Dean.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“Scout’s honor. When you and I are one and the same, I promise I’ll give the boy to Dean,” Lucifer smiled sweetly, “and angels always keep their promises.” At Sam’s wary look, Lucifer added, “You’ll have to have a little faith, Sammy… because really, what choice do you have?”
Sadly, none.
When Sam still hesitated, Lucifer narrowed his eyes, and the barest hint of his ire was almost buckling. “I’m done playing games with you boys. It’s crunch time and I’m out of patience. So you give me consent to take my proper vessel, or this child dies. Simple as that. Could you ever forgive yourself for letting that happen, Sam? Could your brother ever forgive you?”
Dean wanted to do something, anything, stop this, change fate and buck destiny and fucking win against the universe. But at that moment, watching the Devil cradle his son and knowing his brother was contemplating becoming an archangel meatsuit, Dean didn’t see a way out.
“What’ll it be, Sam?” Lucifer demanded.
Sam turned to look at Dean. He was going to do it. Dean could see it in his brother’s eyes. Apology and love and regret and their entire fucking childhoods in Sam’s eyes. The self-sacrificing bitch. He was going to give himself up for Dean’s son.
And Dean couldn’t make himself stop Sam, because he couldn’t lose Sam, but he couldn’t lose Daniel either. God definitely didn’t give a shit, because what kind of god would make Dean choose?
Or maybe… maybe he didn’t have to pick.
Dean closed his eyes and thought as loudly as he could.
‘Michael…’
Next