Haywire
Written in response to cottoncandy_bingo prompt: healing and trope_bingo prompt: against all odds. First try at a Hansel & Gretel: Witch Hunters fic. Probably not the last. Assumes that the children of Grand White Witches should be able to inherent powers no matter if they are male or female. Rather Pre-Slashy for Hansel/Ben, but could be read as Gen. Will have a sequel, already in progress. Characters are not mine, please enjoy! Comments are awesome.
"You'll be okay," Hansel says, but his voice betrays his concern with the way it wavers and cracks, and the worried hazel eyes that look down at him where Ben has his head pillowed on his leg. "You will, you have to." Enough people have already been lost in this never-ending war against the dark witches.
"Mm," Ben mumbles, lulling on the edges of a sleep that's been a long time coming. It's a wonder he's stayed awake this long, and the fingers carding through his sweat-damp hair are only dragging him down into a fevered unconsciousness that much faster.
He reaches up, even though doing so sends shocks of pain shooting through his body, and catches the hand, gripping it as tightly as he can manage as he pulls it down to settle on his chest instead.
Hansel squeezes back lightly, "I'm right here," he says. "I promise. I'll be right here."
"S'it still bleeding?"
"Yeah," Hansel answers, glancing quickly at the haphazardly patched wounds on Ben's side, the deep scratches hidden beneath shredded bits of Hansel's shirt. They've all been injured before, but these are from the leader of a strong, especially dark coven of witches - and Ben, while well-trained, is no match for that kind of power. "Yeah, still bleeding."
"But Gretel and Edward should be here soon," Hansel assures him, ignoring the fact that the pool of blood from Ben's wounds is spreading further and further with every minute that passes. "We'll get out of here."
'Here,' is a cold, dark, long-abandoned shack that they'd found the witch in, albeit unexpectedly. She was equally surprised to see them, and for a minute it had seemed like they'd had the upper hand in the fight, but then Ben had gone down and their target had slipped away, though she'd been injured, too.
Ben tries a gasping breath that does little more than seem to knock all the air out of him. "Hurts," he hisses, scrabbling at his chest like he can claw fresh air into it.
Hansel pushes him back down and squeezes his hand tighter. "I know," he says, "I know it does." And then there's Hansel's other hand, settled flat on Ben's chest, and a curious, "Let me try something," and Hansel's closing his eyes, concentrating. They're both equally stunned when spindly black lines of pain spiral up his arm, seeming to take some of the pain away. But that's magic. Real magic. And none of them had known Hansel could do that, none of them had known men could do magic at all.
"You're..."
"I've had a feeling for a while, but I've never had a reason to try it before," Hansel explains, cringing as the lines move into his chest and dissipate, leaving the pain behind for him to take on. "Guess it makes sense, if my mother was the most powerful Grand White Witch around." He settles his hand on Ben's chest again, taking more pain away.
"N-no," Ben protests, because doing that might weaken him and they can't afford that right now. Not when there's a vicious coven of witches in the area that have made it clear that they intend to finish off the gang of Witch Hunters once and for all. One of them should be battle-worthy and it certainly isn't going to be Ben. "Don't."
Hansel doesn't listen, though - when does he ever? - and keeps going, pulling the flowing tendrils of pain out of Ben and taking them for himself. He's out of breath and curling into himself with the pain when he finally does pull away, but Ben can breathe again.
"Better?"
A nod, a quiet, "thanks," while Ben stares up at him with wide eyes.
The sound of footsteps echoes on the rickety porch, drawing both of their attentions, and Hansel is quick to pull his gun as a shadow passes by the window, backlit by the darkening skies. "Gretel?" Ben hears him call out, as he carefully shifts him aside so that he can get to his feet. Another set of footsteps follows and they are definitely not troll footsteps. Not rescue, then. Without waiting to be attacked, Hansel fires a shot through the wood just to one side of the door and a high shriek follows that says he hit his mark.
Sure enough, a quartet of witches come bursting into the room from all angles and Hansel is left to spin and fire again and again as the witches circle around them. He hovers over Ben's form, keeping all of the wicked creatures at a distance for several long minutes before one, the one he'd winged with his first shot, gets close.
The one that grabs him digs sharp claws into his leg and drags him away from Hansel's protection, like a dog stealing a bone might do. He calls out, voice rough and hoarse, a desperate, "Hansel!" that quickly draws the man's attention and his aim.
A flash of bright blue light fills the room before he can fire his weapon again, and for a second Ben wonders what kind of spell that was, but then the witch that has hold of him crumbles to the ground, wailing and writhing in pain, and he realizes it was not the witch, but Hansel, who casted it. Ben tries to crawl away from her as best he can, back toward Hansel. Another burst of blue drops a second witch who'd been about to swoop down on him and Hansel meets him halfway, blowing the head off of the third one with a well-placed shot. Just one still stands now, the leader.
"The one you guard so fiercely is dying," the witch taunts, and Ben certainly feels that way. "My claws were tipped in poison when I cut him, there's no way he'll survive."
"There's no way you will," Hansel counters, lining up another shot.
"Perhaps we could work out a deal. Your magic for your boy."
"Don't," Ben chokes out, though the pain that Hansel took from him has returned tenfold and his vision blurs out of focus more than it is in. "No."
Hansel chances a quick glance down at him, and Ben can make out the flash of worry on his face at the sight of what has to be a truly impressive amount of blood by this point.
It's a mistake, however, gives the witch enough time to toss out a spell of her own, the red energy leeching from her wand to knock Hansel aside, his gun bouncing in the opposite direction, leaving him stunned and slumped against the wall.
"Fine, then," the witch growls out, advancing on Hansel just as things start to fade out for Ben. "I'll just have to take your magic myself."
"Ben!" He hears Hansel call to him, despite the more dire threat of the witch's approach, like he realizes that things are getting worse. "Ben! Hang on!"
The last thing he remembers is a blinding white light.
He comes to sometime later, watching the darkening forest landscape float by from the supply cart that Edward is towing. He's covered in Hansel's heavy leather jacket and its owner is walking alongside. Gretel, he assumes, is scouting somewhere ahead.
"W-what happened?" He asks, because he has no idea how he survived when he was so sure he was dead.
The cart stops. Hansel stops, too, frozen in his tracks and Ben would swear he sees the man sigh in relief before he sends Edward on ahead to make camp for the night. The troll gives Hansel an unimpressed glare but does as told and vanishes into the darkness.
"About time you woke up," Hansel tells him, offering him a hand out of the cart.
"How long was I out?" Ben asks. He doesn't think it's been too long, it was getting dark during the attack - maybe a day?
"Three days," is the answer he gets, much to his surprise. "We were starting to worry."
"I'm amazed I'm awake at all."
"I don't know what happened," Hansel admits, drawing the boy to sit beside him on a fallen tree by the edge of the path. "I don't know how I did it. You wouldn't answer me and the witch was coming at us and all of a sudden there was this bright flash. I thought it was Gretel, at first, that she'd finally shown up, but when it cleared, the witches were all gone and it was just you and me. And... and you still wouldn't wake up. I did the pain thing again, but that didn't help."
And that explains the getting away from the witch part, but not so much the still alive part and that's really what he's curious about.
"I don't actually remember much after that."
There's a laugh from somewhere close by, Gretel, with an armful of firewood appears out of the tree line. "You wouldn't, of course," she teases. "When Edward and I showed up, he wouldn't let go of you. He was delirious, mumbling about magic. I didn't think you were even alive, then, but he stayed like that for almost a day and no matter what we said he wouldn't let go and finally he picked you up and put you in the cart and told us you were going to be okay. Hasn't let you out of his sight since."
"Yeah, shut up," Hansel grumbles, glaring at his sister.
Gretel laughs, "Let's just hope your magic stays that powerful the next time we're up against a coven," she says.
Hansel frowns, and Ben sees his eyes focus on the spot where the deep claw marks had been. "Considering that it only seems to work when Ben's life is in danger, I'd just as soon not ever use it again."
"Boys," Gretel says the word like it's a curse, and walks away with an exasperated sigh and a roll of her eyes.
Ben's not quite sure what that was about, but he does lift his shirt, looking for the injury that should have killed him, but there's not even a trace left. No wound, no scar, no pain, nothing. Even the marks from the gunshot Hansel had inflicted on him last year to save him from Muriel was gone now. "You were thorough," he comments, notes that other Witch Hunting scars have faded away, too.
"My magic must have gone kind of haywire when I thought..."
"You thought I was dead," Ben finishes. It's okay, though. He thought he was dead, too. "Why does your magic only work with me?"
Hansel shrugs and walks a few feet away - Ben suspects it's the farthest away he's been since they'd walked into that shack. "Hell if I know, just glad it did."