Author's note - This missing scene begged to be written as soon as I watched the movie for the first time. They gave us so much delicious hurt in the film, but I felt a little cheated that they skipped this part...so for all the hurt fans out there. This one's for you...
Oh for anybody still waiting me to update my other fics? I haven't forgotten them, I swear. Real life and a full time writing project offline have kinda blindsided me, but I will be getting back to Hellbent and my Sabbathverse. I promise. I also want to thank Tara aka LovinJackson for slapping some sense into me about my writing and helping this story come to life. I owe you, mate.
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"Oh, I see you finally found your way home…after all these years. How sweet…"
It should have never come to this. A witch…even one as powerful as Muriel, should not have been able to get the drop on them so easily. But she had and now as she stood before them, smiling that sickeningly sweet, yet cold smile of hers, Hansel could feel his anger inside him growing.
Only minutes before, Hansel had been lost in his childhood for a moment. Sitting on the same bed that he had slept in as a child; looking across what seemed like a tiny room now to where Gretel was sat on her own bed. How many nights had they slept in this room? No fear in their hearts. The sound of their parents talking quietly behind the drawn curtain that had acted as their bedroom door. It had been such a simple time.
And then it had all been ripped away from them in one night.
Hansel didn't have the answers why. He didn't know what to say to the barrage of questions that Gretel had been firing at him. What had they done wrong? Why had they been rejected and left alone to fend for themselves? It was easier not to think too deeply on it. Because the more he thought about that night and about everything they had been through, the more Hansel hated his parents. It was better to just not talk about it.
But Muriel didn't care about their feelings. She was happy to gloat right now, smiling as she spun what she called her "story" about their lives. Talking about their mother, calling her a whore…
Every word was designed to shake them, hurt them. Hansel spared a look towards Gretel and could see that she was rattled, that all the questions she'd been asking before were now growing louder in her mind. Unsettling her.
Hansel couldn't afford to let what Muriel was saying get to him. He shifted ever so slowly beside his sister, stepping forward a fraction as if he could shield her. Gretel was all he had left in the world and no witch was ever taking her from him.
Muriel continued spinning her tale, relishing in the details, in the pain it was causing them. How they weren't abandoned, but were sent away by their parents to save them. To save Gretel. Their mother had burned as a witch, their father had been hung…and all these years, Hansel had hated his parents, when really, he should have hated the town that murdered them. He should have hated the one behind it all.
The anger and hatred inside Hansel shifted as he kept his gaze locked onto the witch before him. Muriel had taken everything from him. His whole life had been ripped away and now Gretel was in danger too. Hansel spared another quick glance at his sister as he slowly reach beneath his jacket for his knife and saw her catch the subtle nod he gave her. They weren't about to stand here and play victim. Their days of playing victim had ended with the first witch they had baked alive in her own oven.
Now it was time to make Muriel pay.
Except it's never easy to catch and kill a witch. Muriel wasn't about to be the exception to that rule either. In the blink of an eye, she had disappeared and reappeared behind Hansel and Gretel.
Hansel's hand didn't leave his knife, still tucked under his jacket as he spun on his heels with Gretel to face the witch again. Muriel was trying to throw them off, keep them unbalanced and unsure of when she would strike.
"…The only thing left, is the ever lasting power, of the heart of a Grand White Witch-"
Hansel knew they had to make the first move, take the initiative. "You know, you talk too much…"
Almost as one, the twins moved forward to attack. Hansel had his favorite curved blade in his hand now, lashing out at Muriel, even as she managed to thwart his attack with a backhand to the face that drove him back a step and spun him away from her. But like the well oiled machine they had become from years of witch hunting, where Hansel fell back, Gretel stepped up to attack. A well placed kick from Muriel drove Gretel crashing backwards to the floor while Hansel slashed again and again, catching nothing but air with each strike until he felt his wrist caught in mid-air and turned on him. The blade swung back with a speed that Hansel was barely aware of before it was driven into his stomach.
Hansel found himself face to face with Muriel, her face shifting and cracking into a terrible portrait of power gone dark. The breath caught in Hansel's throat, his body shuddering with a fine tremble of pain as the searing burn of the blade embedded in his flesh seemed to increase with each passing second. There was no time to react, no time to do anything as blood began to dribble over the waistline of his leather pants. Muriel's other hand was wrapped firmly around his throat, his mouth slowly filling with blood as Hansel felt the blade slide free from his flesh.
"Bad move, Witch hunter…"
Seconds later, it was plunged back into his stomach, slicing deeper through the flesh until it was buried to the hilt. Hot blood was now pooling inside his waistband and the rich coppery taste was coating his tongue as Hansel was wrenched forward, then hurled backwards. He tumbled through the shattered floorboards that had given way earlier with Gretel, toppling end over end into the darkness.
"HANSEL!"
Gretel's voice was still ringing in his ears as Hansel's head connected with an outcrop of rocks before he slammed into the ground with enough force to drive the air from his lungs. The world spun wildly for a moment and then plunged into darkness as all consciousness fled from Hansel.
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"Gretel?" It was strained – almost a whisper. Hansel ran his tongue over his dry lips, grimacing at the taste of his blood coating them. Where was his sister? Why wasn't she here berating him for being so clumsy? Trying to pull him to his feet and laughing at his stupidity for letting a witch get the better of him?
The witch.
Muriel.
Hansel blinked, his left eye burning, his vision on that side of his face seemingly scarlet. He dragged a hand up to his face and found it bloody. The tumble into the witch's lair had left a gash just below the hair line that had bathed the left side of his face in blood. Rolling onto his back, Hansel found his vision swimming in the dim light of the cavern he lay in. Gretel's scream was still ringing in his ears, reminding Hansel of what was important here.
His sister was in danger.
Sliding a hand down his body, Hansel felt his curved blade still buried in his stomach. He needed to pull that out and bandage the wound before he bled to death. How long had it been since he'd fallen down here? Minutes? Hours? No, it can't have been that long. Not with the wound he was carrying. Hansel wouldn't have woken up at all. That was what Muriel had been counting on…that he would bleed to death down here beneath the ruins of his old family home.
Wrapping his fingers around the hilt of the knife, Hansel bit down on his bottom lip and tried to ease it free. The knife pulled on his flesh, sucking into the wound hungrily as more warm blood oozed up and spilled down his side into the dirt he was lying in. Hansel tried to bite back a scream, but it felt he was eviscerating himself with even the slightest movement and as the blade finally began to slide free, a scream erupted from his throat until his voice was ragged and torn.
The knife clattered to the dirt beside him as Hansel pressed his hand against wound, feeling fresh blood spilling over his fingers. His head felt hot and stuffed with cotton wool. The same horrid sensation he knew when his sugar sickness would try to take hold of him.
No, he couldn't pass out. Not now.
Gretel was alone. She was in the clutches of a witch, due to be sacrificed on the Blood Moon. Hansel had promised his sister that he would always keep her safe. They'd sworn it that night as the first witch burned. Hadn't he already broken that promise? How else had Gretel come to him with the marks on her face? Someone – some bastard that Gretel hadn't wanted to name – had beaten his sister while he had been in forest with Mina. His sister had been beaten in his absence and it was a damn bitter pill for Hansel to try and swallow.
The hole he had fallen through was above Hansel; taunting him like a dark, cavernous mouth. Laughing at his failure.
Pressing the flat of his palm against his wound, Hansel pushed himself upright. A strained keening noise escaped his throat as he pushed through the darkness that tried to swallow him whole. His free hand flailed out and caught the jagged wall beside him, allowing Hansel to steady himself for a moment and catch his breath. His heart pounded a thunderous beat in his ears, his breath sounding harsh and forced. Time was running out for him. Hansel needed to get out of here and find his sister before it was too late for them both.
Digging his fingers into the rock face, Hansel pulled himself forward inch by painstaking inch until he could reach up and get his feet under him. He released his wound, trying not to think about the steady patter of blood that was spilling down his leather pants and dripping from his boot as he reached up, pushing himself to start climbing.
It wasn't that far. Hansel knew he could make the climb, he could get out of here.
One hand after the other. His feet finding a higher ledge for purchase with each step.
Sweat was bathing his face and sliding down his neck as Hansel fought for every inch of height he made towards the surface. Fuelled by anger, by hate, by sheer determination to find Muriel and make her bleed for everything she had done.
Reaching out again, Hansel dug his fingers into the rock face. It crumbled a moment later and suddenly Hansel was pinwheeling wildly, trying to scrabble for some point of purchase again. Gravity latched her leaden fingers around him and Hansel was free-falling once more back into the darkness.
He stuck the ground hard and as the air exploded from his lungs, his world detonated in flashes of red and white that slipped away quickly into darkness again.
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Light seemed to slowly filter into Hansel's vision as his eyelids fluttered and fought to open. The all encompassing pain that had seemed to shake him to the very core before; seemed to be melting away to nothing but an throbbing ache now. Like an old wound that refused to relinquish its hold of your joints when winter stuck.
"Drink. It will help with the pain…"
Something was pressed to his lips, the scent of some sort of sweet, tangy liquid assailed his senses. Hansel's eyes fluttered open at last as took in the sight of a figure kneeling before him. He slapped the cup away from his lips, lashing out with his other hand to grab the arm of the figure before him. The fog lifted from his vision and Hansel was surprised to see who was before him. "Mina?"
He looked around, taking in the sight of the Grimoire Gretel had discovered down here. Bowls and other tools of witchcraft were scattered around it, leaving an uneasy taste in Hansel's mouth as he pushed himself up off the ground. The horror was slowly starting to sink in, dawning in Hansel's eyes as he looked at the woman who he'd found himself falling for back in the forest. A woman he had thought he could trust. "What did you do? Mina? "
Pulling his shirt up, Hansel was surprised to see that the horrid wound in his side was gone, leaving nothing behind but a bloodstained shirt and a puckered scar. It was witchcraft.
Hansel's head snapped back up, his eyes all but burning into Mina as he asked, "You're a witch?"
It sounded like an accusation coming from Hansel. How could Mina be a witch? How had he not seen the signs?
"There are good witches in the world." Mina answered. "Not many, but some."
"Stay back." Hansel demanded, pointing at Mina as she took a step towards him. How the hell had he been so stupid? He'd saved her back in Ausburg and all this time, she had deceived him! How had it happened? What? Was he starting to lose his sense of caution now when it came to pretty women? Yeah, that would keep him alive. Muriel was a prime example of an ugly bitch that could put on a pretty face when it suited her. What if Mina was the same?
"I'm a witch – but I won't hurt you." Mina tried to assure him.
"But I checked you…" None of this made sense. Nothing made sense anymore. Good witches? Was that was Muriel had been talking about when she spoke of his mother? Of Gretel? Was his own sister a witch? How was that possible? Witches weren't good. They were ugly and evil. They ate children and lived for creating havoc and causing pain to people. The only good witch was a dead witch. That was what Hansel had always known. "…You had - you were clean."
"But only the dark witches bear the signs." Mina explained, confusing Hansel even more.
"Dark witches? Dark wit-…what are you talking about?" Dark witches? Good witches? Was there really such a thing?
"Think about it." Mina stepped forward again, placing a hand gently on Hansel's arm. "If their spells don't work on you, why would mine?"
Everything that Muriel had been saying before was starting to make sense. It scared the hell out of Hansel…but it was slowly beginning to make sense. In all these years, why had no witch's magic ever been able to hurt them? Why was Mina able to heal a wound that should have made Hansel a corpse?
"I'm not like them, Hansel."
Hansel's gaze hadn't left Mina's face. Searching for answers, searching for the truth he needed right now. If witches could be good, then that meant their mother was good. That Gretel was good. It meant that their mother had always tried to keep them from the evil that lurked out in the night. And if all that was true? Then it meant his sister was in grave danger. She was the one key element left that Muriel needed on the Blood Moon.
"Gretel." His sister's name left his mouth in a worried whisper as Hansel pushed past Mina and headed for where she had laid out his vest and jacket.
"Where are you going?"
"They have my sister." Hansel picked up his vest and pulled it on, grimacing as his newly gained scar pulled and throbbed on his side. The first mistake they had made was killing his family. The second one had been taking his sister from him. Now Hansel was going to make every fucking witch bleed for what they'd done.
He wasn't going to stop until Gretel was safe and even damn witch was dead. For Hansel it was that simple. It always had been.
xxEndxx