Supernatural: Next Generation

- THEN -

NOW

The first thing Claire recognized was the sharp, spicy smell that burned in the back of her throat and ripped her back into consciousness. She groaned, screwing her eyes tight against what slowly registered as tenderized ribs, the lingering burn in her leg, and shoulders that were absolutely screaming. They were shrugged tight against her neck, stretched above her head and tied at the wrists with a grainy, cheap velvet rope--that rope was strung by a chain thrown over a beam that crossed the ceiling.

“Morning, Officer.”

Claire opened her eyes at the familiar, faint accent. They met the pale green gaze of ‘Jeffery Donovan,’ who pulled the bottle of smelling salts away from her nose, and smiled at her before sliding a hand up to push her hair over her shoulder.

“I’m happy they got my message not to harm you. You may not be of my tastes, but you are a pretty thing. I would’ve hated to see you damaged.”

“How considerate,” Claire sneered through the discomfort, trying to ignore the way her stomach twisted with the connotations she caught in his words. As soon as he freed more of her field of vision, she swept the large, windowless room with her eyes, looking for Ben. She found him in the exact position she was in, fifteen feet directly across from her but looking a lot less worse for wear.

Jeffery followed her gaze and smiled, then moved over to the other hunter and lifted his unconscious head by the hair.

( “He, on the other hand, did not make the cut. We’re giving him a good tenderizing before pushing him along to our employees. They prefer junk food anyway.” )

***

Everything hurt. Lying perfectly still hurt, turning his head a little to avoid the light hurt, even breathing hurt. There’d only ever been three situation in the entirety of Ben’s life where he’d been in so much pain he couldn’t think straight, and none of them stacked up against how he currently felt. All he wanted to do was die, but he didn’t. He remained on whatever flat surface he currently lied on, trying very hard to take the smallest breaths he could afford to take without making himself even more ill, and very carefully shifted his arm so it covered his eyes.

Claire stood up from her crouch at the foot of the hotel bed, where she’d been digging through the newly stocked med kit in her bag. The sound and sight of Donovan’s fists tearing muscle and skin and cracking bone played itself over and over behind her eyes, images that were mixed with the scene that Ben hadn’t witnessed. Both things made her stomach twist and her blood run a little cold. As bittersweet as it was, at least she had something to focus on--her immediate goal was the black, blue and bloody figure on the bed.

“I sent Jesse to fill my scrip--he’ll be back soon.” How soon crossed her mind--would he just materialize in the middle of the hotel room again? Could he do that anywhere? Claire pushed the questions out of her mind and focused on Ben. His shirt was still open from where Jeffery had torn it. Claire pushed something cold and slightly heavy into his hand, as gently as she could. His flask.

( “You’re gonna need it,” she said with a hint of nostalgia and sadness. “I gotta set those ribs.” )

***

That night, none of them slept very well, but Ben was pretty sure he slept the worse of all of them. He’d spent years sleeping mostly on his side, but now he was forced to sleep on his back. His body, however, was too used to rolling over, and every time he’d even started to drift off, he awoke minutes later with pain shooting through him like lightning.

Jesse had finally gotten out of bed when the sun started to rise, offering to pick up breakfast for the lot of them before quietly excusing himself. Ben felt both grateful and guilty, knowing fully well that they were trying to accommodate his injuries. If I’d just been more careful, none of this would have happened, he thought bitterly, staring blankly at the television. The sound in the room suddenly dimmed as the shower in the bathroom went silent.

Claire stepped out of the bathroom a few moments later in jeans and a worn tank top, the latter was warm and clung a bit from her still wet hair. The shower had put a little more life in her eyes and color to her skin (it was especially hot, just to wake her up), after getting maybe an hour or two of sleep beside an obviously ailing Ben.

She sat on the edge of the bed, picking her curls loose with one hand and stiffened fingers. Her eyes were on him with a faint smile. “You ready for a walk?”

( Just the idea of moving made him wince. “Not especially,” he admitted. Her smile was tight. She understood too well. )

***

Jesse looked up as Claire came out of the bathroom. He’d cleaned off three spots on the table, creating a makeshift place setting with the Styrofoam containers and plastic flatware. “Alright?” he asked. She nodded faintly, pushing a hand through her still drying hair.

“Second day’s always the worst,” she added. The smell of breakfast pulled a little at her stomach, but Claire couldn’t be sure if she was actually hungry or not. Meeting Jesse’s eyes right out of the bathroom--however briefly--reminded her again about what happened the night before. It was hard to push out of her mind. Still, she took a chair and sat down, folding both legs beneath her, Indian Style.

Jesse sat in the spot across from her, popping open his food and taking a bite of scrambled eggs. He took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing, before he said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty freaked out.”

( You’re not the only one. )

Lei hated standing in line, especially when it was cold as a witch’s tit outside. Milwaukee March’s weren’t exactly known for their kind and gentle warm breezes, and tonight was especially frigid after last week’s odd heat wave. Still, the nursing student whose parents lived the American Dream after immigrating from China before the birth of their baby girl couldn’t resist taking advantage of her night off to check out Daybreakers.

( Inside was much warmer, considerably so after the first couple drinks. )

***

Ben awoke blearily to music. Or more specifically, humming. Humming made louder by the echoing cadence of the bathroom door being open. He turned his head away from the direction of the noise and grunted in displeasure, grabbing a pillow and covering his head.

“S’turly!” he muffled in protest. The humming stopped, followed by Claire peeking out of the open door. Her hair, usually twisted in it’s natural, slightly chaotic curl, was sleekly straightened by her careful efforts with a round brush and a hairdryer. She was also wearing earrings, and a dress, and a subtle smirk derived from the state of disaster he had managed to turn his bed into.

( “You’ll live,” she said, sweet as cayenne spiked hot chocolate. )

****

Two and a half hours later, Claire finagled the drink tray and plastic bags in her hands to slide the key-card through their door’s lock. She wound inside, welcomed by the warmth. Spring may’ve been around the corner, but Milwaukee wasn’t known for giving in to more delicate weather without a fight. The wind was blasting outside, and had had it’s way with her hair and dress more than a few times that morning.

Ben was hard at work behind the computer screen, his sprawling outline of print-offs, news clippings, pictures, and connecting yarn displayed like a mixed media portrait on the wall behind him. Four different newspapers were in shreds next to him on the table, and his face was cast in the off-color electronic light emitted from the screen. He made a noise of greeting, but otherwise didn’t look up.

( We’re talking in grunts now? )

***

( “Kevin Hollander, twenty-four; apparently inherited his dad’s gas station when the old man passed of pancreatic cancer two years ago. Runs it with his uncle, his mother is... not in the picture.” )

***

The hotel room was dark except for the glow of the laptop. Claire was snug under her covers but Ben was still working away. He didn’t see the figure appear two feet behind him.

“Ben,” Jesse hissed.

The unexpected voice, added to the sudden sensation of his personal space being invaded, was enough to have Ben visibly jump hard and high in his seat. He made a loud, very un-masculine noise in his surprise.

“Jesus--!”

“Whoa, whoa, easy, it’s me!” Jesse said, holding out his hands. Not that that would necessarily make Ben feel any better, but it was a chance he’d have to take. “Look, I got--”

“Dude, what the fuck!?” Ben interrupted him with a shout that snapped Claire out of her sleep with a gasp and two wide, panicked eyes. He reached at his side for where his gun was normally holstered, but it wasn’t there. He didn’t normally stay armed in his own house at -- he looked quickly at the red light of the alarm clock on the table between his and Claire’s beds -- three in the morning.

“...Jesse?!” Claire tried to swallow her heart and switched her eyes between the two men, demanding and frantic and still in the half-grip of sleep.

“Yes, Jesse, here, hi,” Jesse said, impatience coloring his tone. “Look, I know it’s late, but it’s impor--”

“How the hell did you get in here?!” Ben interrupted, his words clipped and dangerous. “And how the hell did you know we were in Milwaukee?!”

“For fuck’s sake, what part of ‘super powers’ didn’t you understand?” Jesse snapped back. “It doesn’t matter, there’s--” Claire cut him off.

“Are you actually following us?”

( “I SAW A VAMPIRE!” )

***

As they drove, Jesse leaned forward, his arms leaned on the back of their bench seat. “So they don’t really sparkle, right? I mean the teeth are different. Unless there’s something else that drinks people’s blood?” For the first time, he was a bit uncertain about what he saw. He’d rushed over so quickly, he hadn’t really had time to think about it.

“Oh, there’s plenty’a stuff that drinks people’s blood,” Ben said, working his jaw. “But to answer your question, yes: they don’t really sparkle.” Claire stayed relatively quiet. She was testing the spring hinge on a serrated butterfly knife that’d been specially made.

Jesse couldn’t stop looking between them, his addrenaline pumping. “So how do you kill them? The old stake, or you have to tear them apart and burn the pieces?”

“Cut their heads off.” Claire said flatly, looking out the window. The crowds of the entertainment district weren’t calming her nerves. She flipped the blade closed and tucked it into the hidden piece of elastic in her shirt sleeve.

His breath stopping a moment, Jesse let it out slow. It was nearly ten whole seconds before he said, “So, you got an extra machete or something for me?”

( “This isn’t amateur hour,” Ben replied, looking over his shoulder at the man. “We’re thankful for the tip, but vampires aren’t a good critter to cut your teeth on.” )

TO BE CONTINUED...