Title: Demons
Author: Sumiare
Word Count: 1,251
Rating: T
Warnings: Tread lightly, for here be glass
Pairing: Hannigram
Notes: Okay, so I said I'd be gone for two weeks. Instead I was gone for three. I apologize. I wasn't able to get much writing done at camp, I had several major anxiety attacks and migraines that completely blocked my inspiration, plus every time I tried to write people would be like, "Oh my gosh, you're writing a story? Can I read it?" Hard to explain I'm writing fanfiction for a show about a serial killer and his encephalitis-riddled b-frond. When I got home we figured out I had an allergic reaction to penicillin (weird rash..!) and then on Tuesday my little sister was admitted into the hospital. She was in ICU until friday, and was returned home on Saturday. A lot has happened recently, but I should be getting back on track soon! I think there are like two to three chapters left til the finish...but bear with me if I'm wrong. I felt obligated to produce a chapter while I have time before vanishing unexpectedly again. I start school in about two weeks, so that will snap my free time into thirds.
This one will probably be short (as I type this with the chapter mostly finished and less than 2000 words), and I apologize! Please enjoy anyway, and let me know what you think!
Will wasn't keeping track of time anymore, but he figured a few weeks had passed since they first started dwelling in the bunker. Occasionally Hannibal would venture out into the open to restock on supplies, but whenever Will suggested he come along, too, Hannibal would insist upon his staying underground.
"For your safety," Hannibal had reasoned before vanishing for several hours. He'd return with grocery bags full of unpackaged meats and vegetables, stolen from the already trashed grocery just down the street. The older man never showed any signs of wear and tear, nor of any sort of attack by the demons still overrunning the town. Sometimes he'd have a scratch or two carved into his arm, but they never seemed to sway Hannibal.
At one point Hannibal had returned with a particularly bad wound, and Will had immediately stood from his spot slouched on the rugged green couch Hannibal had scavenged from the junkyard (the special agent had reacted rather oddly when the Lithuanian returned from an outing with several pieces of a couch, but Hannibal reasoned that it was more comfortable than the wobbly table chairs they had been using for leisure, and Will couldn't argue) and moved to grab the First Aid kit they kept under the sink. He returned with a pack of Neosporin, cotton swabs and a bandage, but Hannibal had waved him off.
"I'll be fine, save those for more drastic wounds," the older man had said with a dismissing wave. Will shook his head stubbornly, creeping closer with his weapons of mass healing. Before Hannibal could argue Will was cleaning out the wound, staining the swabs a rusty sort of red color, and pressing the neosporin against the cut before wrapping it tightly with the bandage.
"It'll get infected, and that is seriously no fun," Will finished, pinning the bandage in place with a metal clip. Hannibal looked as if he were to argue, but Will fixed him with such a sharp stare that the words died on his lips before they could breach the air.
Since then Hannibal seemed to have taken extra care not to get hurt whilst scavenging, and despite this extra precaution still managed to bring back large amounts of supplies - clothes, water, food. With the increasing amount of supplies Hannibal returned with, Will realized he was finding himself more and more guilty for not assisting in his efforts.
Finally the special agent could not stand idly by.
The next time Hannibal informed his companion that he'd be heading outside that afternoon, Will demanded he attend as well.
"Please," Will begged, already equipped for the trip, gun loaded in his pocket, knife tucked into the curve of his hand. "I feel like such a burden just sitting here reading magazines from months ago."
Hannibal seemed to consider this. It would be rather handy to have Will nearby if he were to be ambushed. The special agent was very good with a gun and despite his natural clumsiness he was able to handle the dagger rather well. (Evidence of this were the hacked apart scarecrows in the empty room, straw sprayed like blood across the bare floors, sightless eyes gazing vacantly forward, never t-)
"Alright," he said, finally.
Will seemed rather surprised. "Really?" he asked skeptically.
"I suppose it would be useful to have extra hands to carry things back," Hannibal elaborated in a gentle tone, not seeking any offense.
The brunet nodded after a moment's hesitation. "Then let's get going. It'll be dark, soon," he guessed.
The pair clambered out of the bunker, covering the trapdoor behind them with a blanket of leaves set aside seemingly for that simple purpose. It took about a half an hour to trek the mile back to the plaza part of town.
Somehow Will wasn't surprised to see the spray of glass across the walkways, hindering their easily walking to the store Hannibal usually got their supplies from. They maneuvered the sharp maze of enormous glass shards, stepping carefully as if they were truly stepping on eggshells, or not wanting to wake the sleeping beast as they crept through the cave towards the treasure at the other end. There was a stop sign bent drastically downwards,
doʇs,
the metal of the pole in a perfect u-shape. It was rather distracting, and Will had to tear his eyes away when he heard a short bark of Hannibal's voice vying for his attention.
"Careful, Will," Hannibal called. "This glass could easily pierce through shoes if at the right angle, and I'm sure neither of us want to be picking glass out of our feet tonight."
Will nodded quickly in understanding, focusing his attention back to the pavement as they neared the end of the spread of glass shards. When Will reached the other end he sighed in relief, glad that he hadn't stepped on any of the dangerous substances polluting the asphalt of the road. Hannibal followed soon after, rejoining his companion and pointing hi in the direction that they would need to travel.
As they continued on, Will felt the increasing sensation that he was being watched. He glanced behind him - once, twice - but found nothing out of the ordinary on the road already traveled. They neared the grocery - its windows shattered like the rest of the stores, the neon of its sign blinking on and off as if it were low on batteries - and were about to enter when the quiet tapping of feet on the pavement, and whipped around to spy several demons advancing surreptitiously behind them.
"Hannibal-" Will managed to say, drawing his gun, before the enemy realized they had been spotted and sped their gait, attacking before Will could even blink.
He was knocked to the ground, gun spiraling out of his reach, two demons standing above him. They were both women of business profession, one was wearing a fitted button-down blouse and a black pencil skirt, the other a tailored suit with a high, neat bun. The first woman, her red hair draped over her shoulder like a curtain, was digging her manicured nails into Will's arm, a belittling grin spread across her warped face, eyes still black as night.
"Well, well," whispered the other woman, pristine white teeth peeking out from cherry red lips as her face split into a knowing smirk. "Will Graham. We were wondering when we'd see you out and about." She jerked a thumb towards Hannibal, who was busy tussling with several other demons. "He's always alone, and yet we knew he was harboring your sweet little ass somewhere."
She drew a hand across Will's face, and the agent lunged to bite her. Unfortunately, the she-demon was too quick, and she withdrew, tutting quietly. "Silly boy. You think you can fight?" She shook her head, pressing her hand back to the brunet's face but digging her own fingernails into the skin she found there. "Because you can't."
The she-demon breathed outwards onto Will, and a stench like rotten eggs swelled in the agent's nose. In his mind's eye he could see two outcomes - the rolling of black smoke out of the she-demon, flowing into his mouth like an intake of breath, his eyes going black, his mind lost - as well as the women digging their fingernails so deeply into him and then carving shapes into his body until he ran out of blood to pump.
"Now," the redhead mumbled, taking over for her partner. "Let's get started."