Chapter 2 - Help!

Gail stretched her arms and rubbed her wrists after Sam released her from the ropes. "Thanks," she sighed gratefully.

Sam said nothing, applying himself to the ropes that bound her ankles together. Once he had cut through those, he gripped Gail by her upper arms and helped her to a standing position.

She swayed a little, trying to get her legs back, and he caught her in his arms. She felt the warmth of Sam's personality flow through her, and it gave her the strength to keep her feet. At times she had grown to hate the psychic ability she had, but at this moment Gail embraced it.

She smiled up at him. "Thanks again, Sam. I guess I don't have my land legs back yet."

He smiled back at her. "Understandable." Then: "What happened to you?"

"Dean was right, it's one hell of a story," Gail replied, then bit her lip. Damn! They hadn't introduced themselves!

Sam and Dean both gaped at her. Dean spoke first. "How did you know our names?" he asked her, his eyes narrowing.

Crap. Gail noticed Sam's grip tighten on the knife he still held in his hand, and the expression on Dean's face, and she knew she would have to come clean immediately before this all went south.

She held her newly freed hands up in supplication. "I'm OK, guys, I promise you. It's just...it's a long story, and I don't know where to start."

She took a deep breath, and then it all came spilling out: How she and her brother Frank had grown up alone together, their parents killed by Demons when Frank was 15 years old and she was 10. They had always suspected their father had a secret life; then, when Frank turned 13, their dad had ushered him into the den and told him the truth. Theirs was a family of Hunters, had been for generations. Now that Frank was becoming a young man, it was time to start passing on the tradition. For the next two years, Jim had instructed Frank on monster lore; how to separate fact from fiction...vampires and Demons were real, Bigfoot and Nessie were not...and trained him in battle every day after school, as Gail stayed in her room, doing homework and reading fantasy novels. Though sworn to secrecy, Frank had vowed to himself to share his knowledge with Gail when she got a little older. They had always been fairly close, and he didn't think keeping her in the dark was fair. Besides, this new world was exhilarating, and he couldn't share it with any of his friends. What good was being a badass Hunter if you couldn't tell anybody how cool you were?

So things went on like that for a while. Frank continued training every day after school and on the weekends. Their mother Christina never entered the basement during their training sessions, and Jim confided that she didn't have the stomach for killing, though the sessions were being held with her tacit approval. Frank admired his dad's bravery and it was awesome to hear all the stories of Jim's nocturnal adventures ridding the world of evil while his kids slept peacefully, oblivious to their family legacy. Frank had never felt as proud and as much of a man as when his dad clapped him on the shoulder after an intense training session and said, "You're gonna make one hell of a Hunter, son."

A year passed, then another. As Frank blew out the candles on the cake his mother had baked for his 15th birthday, he had only one wish: To go out on a hunt with his father. As soon as they were alone, he was going to ask Jim, beg if necessary, to go out with him on the next case.

The phone in the living room rang as Christina was slicing up the cake, and Jim went to answer it. Gail was digging into her piece of cake and Frank was staring at his pile of presents when they heard Jim exclaim, "WHAT? What did you just say to me?" Christina looked up, startled. Even though she couldn't see Jim from where she stood, Christina heard the unusual tone of anger in his voice and was suddenly afraid. Though she was all too aware of the fact that her husband was a Hunter and left the house many nights to do what he had to do, Jim was kind and gentle with her and the kids and seldom raised his voice to them. Even though Jim had given her a few rudimentary lessons on how to defend herself over the years, Christina wanted no part of this other part of his life. But somehow, they had worked it out. He assured her that no harm would ever come to her and the kids, and she believed him implicitly. After all these years she still loved him very much, and they both loved Frank and Gail beyond anything else.

But now Jim was shouting, "Screw you, Crowley! Don't you ever threaten my family!" Then, silence. Christina stood still, shocked. Frank and Gail looked up from the table, then at each other, puzzled. They had never heard their father talk like that and it scared them almost as much as it did their mother.

"Then come on over and talk to ME, if you have the balls for it!" they heard Jim shout. "But, leave my wife and kids out of it!" Then, a smash.

Did he just throw the phone at the wall? Christina thought incredulously. Then: "Chris!" Jim was yelling from the living room.

"Eat your cake," she said absently to the kids, and Christina hurried out to the living room. Gail and Frank gaped at each other with wide eyes, not daring to speak.

Jim was pacing back and forth and running a hand through his hair until it looked like a mad professor's. He strode over to Christina and grabbed her painfully by the wrist, pulling her close to him. "We need to talk, NOW," he hissed through his teeth.

"Not here; the kids can hear us," she said in a shaky voice. He nodded once and they walked out the front door, shutting it behind them.

"There's no time to explain," Jim started in immediately. "You and the kids have to get out of here."

"What? Why?"

"I don't have time to answer questions!" Jim was frantic. "You need to take them and go! Right now!"

"I'm not leaving you, Jim!" She was crying now.

"You HAVE to!" he shouted in exasperation, fear rising in his throat. "He said he's coming here to kill us all and I have to get ready!"

She couldn't help herself. "Who? Who's coming?"

She wasn't going to let this go until he gave her some kind of an answer, and there was no time to sugar-coat it: "The King of Hell, that's who! His name is Crowley, somehow, he's found out where I live, and he's not coming over for a DAMN PIECE OF BIRTHDAY CAKE!" Jim shouted in Christina's face, grabbing her arms and shaking her in his panic and frustration.

So there it was. After all these years, Jim's other life was coming here to bite them in the ass, Christina thought bitterly. But she was a practical woman and knew what had to be done.

She turned on her heel without another word and re-entered the house, hurrying to the kitchen. "Gail, Frank, come on, we're going to the park."

"OK, Mom, just let me finish my cake-" Frank started to say, but he fell silent as he saw the look on her face. He spared one longing glance at his presents, then swallowed and meekly said, "Can I get my backpack?"

Christina relented. "I guess that would be all right. Run upstairs and get it, and get a toy for your sister, and hurry!"

Frank bolted upstairs. Instinctively he knew there was something terribly wrong. Who was this Crowley his dad had yelled at on the phone? Were there monsters coming to the house? Shouldn't he stay and fight with his dad?

He ran to his room and grabbed his backpack by one strap, then bolted to Gail's room and got the huge plush teddy bear from the floor beside her bookcase. As Frank ran back to the stairs he was already thinking about how to plead his case to his dad; send the women to the park, and get ready for battle. He was old enough, he had been trained to fight, and he could help.

As Frank came hurtling down the stairs, he saw his dad emerge from the basement with the case of special knives he had shown Frank during their training sessions. They were the only weapons he knew of that could kill a Demon, Jim had instructed him, and they were to be handled with care but kept nearby at all times. Frank felt a thrill of excitement. His dad was going to kill a Demon!

"Dad!" Frank exclaimed. Jim looked up. "Let me stay! I can help!"

Jim's eyes were blazing. "No! You're not ready!"

"I AM, Dad, you've been training me-"

"NO!" Jim cut him off. "I don't have time to argue with you, Frank, get your mother and your sister and get the hell out of this house!"

Frank's resolve faltered a bit. His dad was in full Hunter mode now, angry and aggressive, scarier than any Demon Frank could imagine. But Jim was still his dad, and this was their home. So he tried once more, stepping toward his father. "But Dad..."

"You have to protect your sister!" Jim roared. "She's special! If Crowley ever got her-"

He never got the chance to finish the thought. Christina ran into the room, pulling Gail by the hand. "Jim! I just saw two men in the back yard!"

"And they have BLACK EYES!" Gail chimed in. She didn't quite understand what was going on. She'd never seen her parents like this, but she was still a child and what she'd seen had been like something out of one of her fantasy novels. She was scared, but a little excited, too. She had just seen two guys dressed all in black, with BLACK EYES, walk straight through their backyard fence, without opening the gate!

Jim sprang into action. He grabbed Frank by the arm and wrenched Gail away from Christina. "Go into the basement!" he instructed Frank. "Take your sister and hide in the special spot I showed you and don't come out until I come get you! No matter what! OK?"

Frank nodded and grabbed Gail's hand, taking her down the stairs into the basement. Now she was more scared than anything else. But her brother was with her, and he would make sure nothing bad happened to her.

They huddled together in the special hiding place their father had constructed the day Christina had told him she was pregnant with his son, and waited. They clutched at each other and wept silent tears as the sounds of battle raged above their heads. They heard a bone-chilling scream, and then a man laughing, which was somehow scarier. Then, silence. That was the scariest sound of all.

But the children were told to wait for their dad, so they waited...

Gail finished her tale and fell silent. Sam and Dean exchanged glances.

"Goddamn Crowley!" Dean swore.

Sam looked back at Gail and said, more gently, "So Crowley killed your parents?"

"That's just it, we never really found out who did it," she replied, "but that was the name my dad used on the phone that day." She shivered, partly from the memory and partly due to the fact that they had been standing out here in the night air while she told Sam and Dean the story. There was still more to tell, but hopefully they had heard enough to know that she was no threat to them.

"That still doesn't explain how you knew our names," Dean pointed out, though his expression had softened somewhat.

"Does it have something to do with your dad saying you were special?" Sam asked her. His voice was still gentle, but his eyes were sharp as they looked into hers.

This one's smart, she thought. He may live in Dean's shadow much of the time, but he shines bright.

"I'll tell you everything, I promise," she said, "but right now, the pressing issue is finding Frank. I'm hoping you can help me, but if you don't trust me, I'll thank you for untying me and not running me over, and be on my way."

A moment's silence; then the three of them smiled at each other, and she knew everything was going to be fine. Sam and Dean were good guys, experienced Hunters, and they would help her get Frank back. Everyone would live happily ever after, no one would die...well, except for a few filthy Demons who deserved to, anyway..., and things would go back to normal, she thought. I'm going with that.

Gail shivered again, more violently this time. "Can I tell you the rest in the car? I'm freezing."

Sam rushed forward, taking his jacket off and thrusting it at her. "Here, put this on." She murmured her thanks and put on the jacket, hugging it around her.

Sam and Dean exchanged glances again and walked towards the car. She followed Sam and got in the back of the car on the passenger side, then slid to the middle so she could look at both of them. Now that they were in this together, she had to make sure they understood the urgency of the situation.

"Please, we've got to look for Frank!" she urged. "I don't know if he was able to get off that truck, or not. If he did, he's further up the road, tied up like I was. If not..." she didn't want to think about it. "We've got to catch up with that truck!"

"Do you have any idea where they were taking you?" Sam turned back to ask her.

"No, that's the problem!" Gail's mind had turned back to when they were abducted many times during the ride in the ttruck, thinking about any word, any clue their kidnappers may have inadvertently spilled, but she could come up with nothing. "All I can remember is that one of them called the one that was tying me up 'Steve', and Steve asked if they were taking us to 'the safe house', but they told him to shut up, and that was it," she answered Sam.

"Not much to go on," grumbled Dean, but he put the car in Drive and they started to move, scanning the road for any sign of Frank as Gail continued to tell her story.

A good number of miles and a great number of words later, they came to an intersection. Dean pulled the car over and shut off the engine, then looked back at Gail. "What now?" He had been moved by her story and could relate to searching for a missing brother all too well, but he was also growing frustrated. Obviously the guy hadn't escaped, and now that the road split off in three directions with no clue where to go from here, this girl needed a reality check.

"I don't know," she said quietly. Gail's heart sank as she was forced to accept the fact: Frank was gone, and she had no idea where he had been taken, or how to find him.

Sam was silent, still processing Gail's story. It was almost too wild to be believed, which in Winchester-ese meant that every word had to be true. Though his and Dean's parents had also died at the hands of the Hunter legacy, he couldn't imagine how two scared kids had been able to stay quietly hidden in the basement of their own home as Demons were upstairs slaughtering their parents. And then, when they could no longer stand the silence, how the children had crept upstairs, hand in hand, to discover the horrible truth: Blood on the walls, the floor, so much blood...and their parents' bodies, laying on the living room floor like grotesque mannequins dipped in red paint.

Sam shuddered inwardly at the thought, picturing Gail as a little girl clutching her plush teddy bear and looking down at the face of her dead father. Jim's eyes had been wide open and he had a shocked look on his face, Gail had told them, as if he couldn't believe what had happened to him. Gail had sunk to her knees by his body and, casting her toy aside, put both hands on Jim's bloody chest. But the blood had already started to dry and she knew that it was too late...She'd scrambled over to her mother, who was laying on her stomach beside Jim. Gail rolled her over onto her back. Christina's eyes were closed and her body had been heavy, and Gail knew without touching her that her mother was also beyond saving.

Sam's brow wrinkled as he imagined all too clearly what life would have been like for Gail and Frank from that moment on. Forced to grow up on the run, with only each other to rely on, passing through town after town, just trying to survive. Never able to form normal relationships with others. Living hand to mouth. Always having to watch their backs. Yes, Sam could definitely relate.

He turned to Gail and said to both her and Dean, "We have to look at this like a case. We need to get home and get on the computer, start working it."

"OK," Dean said, seizing the opportunity to take action. As Gail had been telling her story, Dean naturally related more to Frank and his role as the big brother and Hunter/protector, and he knew if they didn't do something soon, the poor bastard was as good as dead. If he wasn't already. Dean did feel sympathy for Gail, imagining how Sam would be pulling out his hair in similar circumstances. But this was no time for emotion. It was time to call on their resources, and kick some Demon ass.

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell phone. "I'm calling Cas," he told Sam.

For the moment Gail was silent, somewhat comforted by the guys' take-charge attitude. She was a little drained emotionally from the telling of her story and the nagging worry that if they didn't find Frank soon, he could be gone to her forever. What would she do, then? No, she couldn't think that way; her brain would explode. As much urgency as she felt at the situation, she had to admit that Sam was right. They had to combine whatever skills and talents they had as a team to figure out where Frank could have been taken. Although there was one very important talent Gail possessed that she had yet to mention. She had alluded to it as she'd told her story, but she couldn't quite bring herself to say the words out loud. It was so fantastic; so unbelievable. If anyone would believe it, it would be these two, she thought. But how did you tell two guys you had just met that you could heal people's wounds just by laying your hands on them? It had of course been too late in her parents' case, but Gail had brought her brother back from near-death several times over the years, using this special talent of hers. She didn't know what was so special about her: why she should be blessed with the ability to both read people and heal their wounds with her touch. What the hell kind of world did she live in anyway, where monsters roamed the earth with impunity, creating the need for Hunters who put their lives on the line every day protecting an unsuspecting public from them? So when she thought about it, she guessed it wasn't unreasonable to assume that she was an anomaly, a tick mark on life's list of checks and balances. Whatever the case, whether there was a Higher Power at work, she supposed that wasn't for her to know. It was what it was, as they said. And the handful of times Frank had stumbled home from wounds incurred while Hunting, she had been damn grateful for it.

Too bad I can only heal others, Gail thought ruefully as she pressed the T-shirt Sam had given her to her inflamed cheek. The blood had already started to dry but the action seemed to help psychologically, and it gave her something to do.

"Cas," Dean spoke into his phone, "we've got a situation here. We could use your help."

"Sure, Dean, whatever you need," Cas replied. His voice was fainter than usual and he sounded tired. Did Angels get tired? No, they never slept, so why would they be tired? It must be the reception out here, Dean decided, though he couldn't rule anything out when it came to Cas. Castiel was the most unusual Angel that Dean had ever met, with a lot of enigmatic qualities.

"We're headed home, can you meet us there?" Dean asked Cas.

"I'll be right over."

Dean disconnected the call and turned to Sam. "Let's go home."