Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.
Every Hero Has An Origin Story, Right?
Dean had no idea what had just happened. One second he and Sam were standing in the middle of a power struggle between their beloved Impala and a dream-version of Metatron. The next second saw them being thrown through the doors of Bobby's garage like a trio of dolls after their owner tired of playing with them for the day.
Now they were sitting in a deserted hallway lined with doors and squares of florescent lighting identical to those found in hospital hallways. The air felt as cold as a morgue, and it sounded as if a nursery of infants were screaming their little heads off. Dean didn't recognize the place, but he sure as hell knew the feeling crawling up the back of his neck like a tarantula.
Fear. Loads of terror and plain, unadulterated fear.
"Where the hell are we?" Sam rasped, terrified of their location for another reason. Hospitals always unnerved the younger Winchester, thanks to the wraith in the psych ward and his brief bout of Lucifer-induced insanity.
"No idea." Green eyes shifted to look at Baby in expectation. "We're in your head, Baby. Where are we?"
"St. Matthias Hospital in Patience, Wyoming," Baby whispered. "Third floor, south wing. Specifically, the maternity ward and nursery."
"And why are we in this particular hospital?"
Before she could answer, a loud commotion down the hall drew the Winchesters' eyes towards a swinging door. A placard with the number 9 was affixed to the door, and it sounded like there was something being thrown around inside the room.
Baby recoiled from the noise. Dean noticed and asked, "What's in there?"
"Nothing good," was her vague reply.
"How do you know that?"
"Because - "
The rest of her reply was lost as the door banged open and a large man was ejected from the room with a yell. He struck the hallway wall and dropped to the ground. A sawed-off shotgun skittered across the floor just out of arm's reach.
A cruel cackle echoed from the open door. "You shouldn't bring a gun to a demon fight," said a deep voice dripping with sadistic glee. "Newbie mistake. Don't worry, you won't live to regret it."
"You gonna talk me to death or what?" The Winchesters couldn't stop their twin gasps of shock when the hunter raised his head. "Bring it on, you black-eyed bastard," said John Winchester with a smirk. "That is, unless you're worried this newbie can wipe the floor with you."
Immediately the rest of the doors lining the hall banged open in tandem, causing the volume of screaming to intensify. The brothers jumped as several shreds of blueish-white lights floated out into the hallway. "Mommy! Mommy! I'm scared!" came the high-pitched, overlapping cries of fear.
Dean regained his voice first. "They're souls. Or what's left of them."
"Why the hell is Dad here?" Sam demanded. "What's going on?"
A new piercing scream drew their attention back to the confrontation. The demon had raised his hand out in front of him, clenching a whole soul in his lean fingers. "Where am I? Where's my Mommy?" came the girlish scream from the soul. "I want my Mommy!"
"Let it go!" John demanded.
The demon chuckled as it blinked jet-black eyes. "It's real cute, you thinking that'll make me do it."
Dean and Sam shared a look and nodded in unison. They pulled out their guns and trained them on the demon. "Hey! Sicko!" yelled Dean. "Drop the soul!"
"It's no use. You can't change what's happening here." The flat, defeated tone drew the brothers' attention back to Baby. "Nothing can. Not anymore."
The captive soul continued to scream for its mommy, joining the cacophony of spirits in the hallway around them. Dean didn't lower his weapon. "You never answered us before," he said without taking his eyes off the confrontation between John and the demon. "Why are we in St. Matthias Hospital in Patience, Wyoming? Why is Dad here?"
Silver eyes closed, and she seemed to shrink in on herself. "It's Friday, December 13th, 1985. A demon's been cursing this hospital to have stillborn babies, but he needs one last unborn soul to complete his ritual and curse the land for another year."
"Baby..." Sam's voice dropped low with dread. "How do you know all this?"
"Because that soul the demon is holding...is mine."
With the exposure of her secret, Baby knew everything was over. But she forced her eyes open and stared resolutely at the memory before her. She wouldn't dishonor her John by shying away from the event that brought her into being.
John brought up his shotgun and let loose a round of rock salt. The demon screeched bloody murder and flung his free hand at John, telekinetically pinning the hunter back against the wall. "Why are you fighting so hard for this insignificant little thing?" the demon demanded, holding out the glowing orb as he advanced on the hunter. "It's beyond dead now. Nothing can bring it back short of Death being in a mood, and he's never in that mood. You can't save it!"
The light in John's eyes was fervent. "I know I can't save them all, but I can make damn sure that you never do this again."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah." A smirk widened on his lips as he was suddenly released from the wall. The demon gaped, and John took advantage of its shock to sucker-punch him. A classic tuck and roll move allowed him to get out of harm's way. "See, you made a key tactical error," he continued as he straightened. "You didn't look up."
His words caused everyone, remembered and real, to look up at the ceiling. There, spray-painted on the porous tiles, was a devil's trap. A gunshot and yell of pain drew their attention back to the demon. He was cradling his bleeding hand to his chest, and the previously captive soul made a beeline to hover over John's shoulder. The remaining souls clamored even louder, as if they were aware that something was about to happen.
"Now I'm only going to ask you once." John pulled out his journal, flipped it open, then reached inside his leather jacket and pulled out a silver flask. "Where can I find the yellow-eyed demon?"
The demon started to speak, but Baby turned away. What followed next was a simple holy-water interrogation, and besides, she had to face Sam and Dean. In the clarity of her origins, Baby needed to come clean.
As she spoke, the vision of John and the hospital hallway melted away, leaving the three of them standing in darkness. "John broke the ritual, but the damage was done," she whispered, her eyes boring holes into the floor. "My body was born dead almost twelve hours after this, but my soul never crossed over. It hitched a ride with an angry, world-weary hunter who brought me home to his two boys. I found a body to inhabit and fell asleep, and...well, the rest is history." Twisting her hands together, she hunched her shoulders and tucked her chin to her chest. Her eyes squeezed shut as she waited. Waited to be cursed, to be cast aside, to be exorcised.
Sam spoke first. "You knew." He didn't explain, but he didn't have to.
"I know that place before wasn't real," she said softly. She couldn't look up at them. Couldn't bear to see the disgust and horror and pity. But she had to keep talking, had to explain herself. She owed them that much. "I've known the whole time. But I...I wanted it to be. I wanted to have that, to have done that to keep you both safe and happy. I wanted the family you never had...that I never had...to be real. I just wanted to - "
"Enough." Dean sounded tired, defeated and sick of everything. "Just wake up."
And she opened her eyes.
What could happen next? Stay tuned and find out!
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