Supernatural: Next Generation

- THEN -

NOW

Going by the extremely hard-to-get blue prints of Fort Knox, the plan had been to infiltrate the place by using the three separate sub-basement systems and coming up beneath it. Out of a list of equally as impossible prospects, that plan seemed to be the most likely, even if the chances were extremely slim.

But they didn’t expect it to be this easy. Not a single sound greeted either team as they snaked through the ventilation system and spilled out into the dimly lit concrete hallways of the massive main building’s basement.

They were barely through the first door when at least fifty bodies filled the small hallway space, eyes inky black and expressions filled with malice. Lucas and Kat immediately opened fire -- Lucas with the holy water water blaster, and Kat with the shotgun full of rocksalt rounds. Yet even as the bodies fell aside, new ones filled their vacant spaces.

( “Cal, hit it!” )

***

The vast space the vault opened into hardly earned the name anymore. Rugs and furniture had been brought in, creating three distinct spaces that some twisted mind might consider a home. To the right was a shining conference table, filled with papers and surrounded by maps so that it looked like a set of a retro ‘00s action movie. In the middle was a circle of sleek couches, the longest facing six screens. Only one was on, and Claire recognized, as it flipped different camera angles, that it must be a security feed.

To the left was what could have been the set of another movie, a very different kind of movie. Chain-link fence had been installed along the walls, and hanging from it were objects that could only be described as implements of torture. In a bare space hung empty shackles. No rugs to be seen over here, the only thing that adorned the cement floor was a two foot long chain. It was too short for the man it tethered, so that even on his knees, he had to hunch over.

“Claire.”

Jesse stood from the couch, a wide, friendly smile on his face. Unlike everyone else in this world, he looked hardly changed. A little broader; a little sleeker, in his pristine button-down shirt and tailored trousers; the slightest hint of maturity touching his temples and the corners of his eyes. But his smile was the same.

“You finally made it,” he said, arms open in welcome. ( “I was beginning to think you hadn’t received my invitation.” )

****

“I’m worried about her,” Ben said quietly, putting his utensils down. His eyes hadn’t left Claire’s sleeping form since the moment she rolled her face away from them. “I’ve never seen her like this. Not even before you came around.”

Jesse shrugged, still concentrating on what remained of his food. “Things’ve been hard, that’s all. She’ll snap out of it.”

Almost on cue, Claire opened her eyes. The next instant she sat straight up in the bed--the bed that she remembered, with clean sheets and the smell of breakfast and summer in the air. Ben blinked in surprise, his face pinching in a slight frown of concern.

“Hey, you oka--” Ben’s voice of worry was shortened as Claire launched herself from the bed to tackle them both in the most heartfelt, enthusiastic embrace, covers still tangled around her legs.

Jesse instinctively jerked back in surprise, hacking as he took half his bite down the wrong pipe. “Fuck. Hi.” Claire half stumbled out of the bedsheets, cutting Jesse off with a quick kiss, then turned, taking Ben’s face in her hands for the same thing. When she pulled back, Ben looked into her eyes with a dazed look.

“Claire?”

But she was already facing Jesse, her palms firmly placed on the sides of his jaw, just as she had with Ben, but her eyes were wide and wild, and locked on his.

“Promise me you won’t ever, ever listen to anything that fucking demon says to you.” She switched here eyes back and forth between his, her voice contained a note of desperation. “Promise me.”

Frozen, Jesse stared back at her, his stomach sinking. What had she heard? What did she know? After a long pause, he stuttered, “‘Course. I’d never listen to him.”

“Did he come to you?” Ben asked insistently, his eyes suddenly wide. Claire kept her eyes on Jesse’s face, her gaze steadily softening from the slightly unhinged quality they contained when she first woke up. With a tentative breath, she leaned in and kissed him again, slower and more appreciative this time, before turning to do the same to Ben. She’d heard his question, but the answer could wait until she’d fully reminded herself that they were both alive, and all three of them were whole.

“No,” she started, almost breathless and still shaking, the way she had been in the vault. ( “Other side of the big fence...” )

When Claire had finally woken up, the tension in the car had doubled. Ben had managed to convince Jesse to hold off on the inquisition until they got to Maryland, but somehow that only seemed to make everything worse. He hadn’t even slept in the same room with them that night, using the excuse that the double bed Izzy Gallagher had available to them just wasn’t big enough to fit them all.

It left Ben incredibly anxious. He just hoped Jesse wouldn’t bail in the middle of the night. Trust, he told himself. Just gotta trust. He’s promised.

( Claire had barely spoken a word in two days. )

****

The incessant banging would not stop. It started out as annoying background noise, fuzzy and far-off, but with every moment of awareness it became louder and louder. A voice joined in on the sound, but the words were still unclear with both distance from the source and sleepiness. The smell of stale air and dry mold filtered into Claire’s consciousness as sleep started to quickly fall away, and in one moment of sheer animal panic, she sat straight up on the bed.

The realization hit her like a stone. This room was not the one she remembered falling asleep in; Izzy’s white-washed walls were replaced by those of some antique wallpaper with a flower pattern, and most of it peeled away. The bed sagged and squeaked and smelled of dust. Breathing hard, the real source of her alarm was the fact that she was alone.

Except for whoever was banging to get in.

Somewhere in the distance, guns started firing. The banging became more insistent.

( “Goddammit, Claire, open the fucking door!” )

***

It had been an hour since everyone else had returned from their last location, but even then the residents of Beta camp didn’t stay still. Everyone was working, though Claire didn’t know what they were working on. After they had arrived, Claire wandered the maze of shanty buildings, tents, and war-battered structures with eyes peeled for any sign of Jesse or Ben, though by instinct, she didn’t ask about them. People stopped and nodded at her when she passed; people she’d never seen in her life who seemed to recognize her instantly. She had watched the choreographed chaos half in a daze, still very much convinced that this had to be a dream. More like a nightmare, the longer she went without finding them. That’s when she found herself back at the largest structure in the entire encampment.

After being in the camp for so long, the chanted exorcism piped through the speakers became almost background noise. It was dulled even further upon entrance of the main building. No doubt it was made with pure concrete, but upon brief investigation each door and window was framed with thick embedded iron rods.

More strangers made eye-contact with her as she wandered the cold hallway, further twisting her stomach with nerves. She was snapped out of the noxious fog that seeped around her consciousness with a sudden grip on her arm.

( “I need to speak with you,” Kat said swiftly. “Now.” )

****

Just as she suspected, in the small cell-like room that were apparently her private quarters, Claire found the spread of information she’d been hoping for. Everything was laid out in her own style of organization, notes spread on the desk and the cot that served as her bed--which looked like it’d never been slept in--a web of maps and scratched notes pinned to the wall, all in the style of a regular hunt. But this one had been going on for a lot longer than a week or two.

Apparently this war had been going on for years, and the majority of specific information that was highlighted, circled, and underlined over and over all had happened over the last twelve or thirteen months, given her guess at the time of year.

And all of it had to do with Ben and Jesse.

There was a gentle rap at the door, and a moment later Kat let herself in, shutting the door behind her.

( “You all right, Clairey?” )

****

Waking up in the middle of a post-apocalyptic world with no idea about the last twelve years was jarring enough. Finding out that you’re the apparent ring-leader of one particular pocket of resistance fighters, and your former companion, friend, and lover was at the center of the end of the world--and the one you were fighting--whole different story. And that wasn’t even all she had to process.

Claire spent the first leg of the caravan-like journey in a silent daze, that is when she wasn’t pouring over the faded, wrinkled blue-prints of Fort Knox and the pages of handwritten notes. Apparently all the work, pain, and sacrifice of the last year was coming to a head in the next day. Jesse and Ben were hoarded up in the former military base, which was (likely) swarming with demon infested former military. The twenty-some dedicated fighters accompanying her into the Lion’s Den all carried the same somber readiness in their eyes, when they all met up at a predesignated spot after taking separate routes.

Everyone was quiet, but kept busy. Claire watched the nearby fire from her perch on the tailgate of a beat-up F-50, one of several of her own journals open in her lap. In a time when she needed the most focus and determination than she had ever needed in her life, all she could do was picture their faces, as she last saw them.

“Hey.” Interrupting her thoughts, Lucas settled next to her, his expression warm. He tapped the open journal. ( “Studying up before the big exam, eh?” )

***

They were back on the road again by first light, and to a surprisingly quiet road. Too quiet, in fact. About an hour into the drive, Kat signalled that they all pull off to the side of the road. They were 30 minutes out from Fort Knox, and they hadn’t seen Nephs or demons since the last town.

“I’m liking this less and less by the minute,” Kat said, hands on her hips as she watched the people piling out of their vehicles. Claire squinted into the orange glare of the sunrise, then swept the quiet horizon. There were rolling hills and lush trees, exploding with the colors of autumn, but little else. Even the wind was still.

“The drawbridge is down,” she said, the colorless metaphor did nothing to settle her stomach. Funny thing was, on a deeper level, Claire not only expected this, but she felt like she’d been preparing for it for a long time. She took a deep breath and looked at Kat, then at the gathering of ragged hunters and renegades that pooled behind her. Lucas’ eyes were steady and unwavering on her as he gave a nod. Claire swallowed thinly, but nodded back, truly appreciative of the little show of support.

Her eyes swept them all, studying each unfamiliar face that looked back at her with a kinship that could only be built over time and harsh experience. They were about to storm a place that had been deemed impregnable when it was run by simple humans; now the demons that swarmed it with Jesse at their helm not only expected them, but were laying the path down, like a walk to the gallows.

( “It’s been a long road...” )

TO BE CONTINUED...