Chapter 4 - Looking For Clues

Gail awoke, feeling somewhat refreshed after her exertions of the night before. There was no clock in the room, so she couldn't gauge how early in the day it was. She debated whether or not to get up, but the lure of the bathroom facilities and her eagerness to get going on the search for Frank decided for her.

She flung off the blanket and looked down at her dirty and torn clothes, wrinkling her nose. I could use a shower too, she thought. Oh well, first things first. She sat up and noticed that there was a plaid men's shirt draped over the chair by the nightstand. Huh? There was a note pinned to the collar: "Help yourself to the shower if you want. Here's something you can put on. Sorry it's not more feminine! I'll be at the computer. Sam."

She shook her head, smiling. It would be just like him to be so considerate. She held the shirt up against herself. Sam was well over six feet tall, so his shirt would be like a dress on her. It would do, until they could work something else out. She grabbed the shirt and headed for the shower.

Sam was at the computer as promised, with a fresh cup of coffee in his hand. He was surfing the Net idly, trying to come up with an idea, any idea where to start the search for Gail's brother. He had already decided they should return to the place where Gail and Frank had been living, and had been abducted from, to see if there were any clues there. Besides, Gail would need a change of clothes, at the very least.

As if taking her cue, Gail appeared in the doorway wearing Sam's shirt, which came down to her knees. He noticed her hair was wet and the dried blood on her face was gone. He smiled at her. She looked kinda cute in his shirt. "Coffee?" he offered, starting to rise.

"It's OK, I'll get it," she said, motioning for him to sit back down. She came over to where he was and motioned to his cup. "Refill?"

"Sure, thanks."

She reached for his cup and leaned over his shoulder to look at the computer screen. "What'cha working on?"

Sam could smell the scent of her freshly shampooed hair as it tickled his cheek. For a moment he could imagine this must be what an actual relationship with a woman could be like, waking up, having coffee, being normal, and he felt wistful. He would never experience that feeling again, and probably neither would she, not with the kind of lives they led.

Gail poured their coffee and returned to the table. "Thanks for the shirt and the use of the shower. I almost feel human again," she said to him brightly. "So, what's the plan?"

She put down her cup and was about to sit when Castiel strode into the room. As she looked at him, she was glad to see he looked a thousand times better this morning. His colour was good, his eyes were sky blue, and he moved with the energy of a young man. Which, seeing as he was hundreds or maybe even thousands of years old, was really saying something.

Sam looked up at Cas and did a double-take. "You look like you're feeling a lot better this morning," he said to Cas.

"Guess I just needed a good night's sleep." Castiel winked at Sam and then regarded Gail, his eyes shining. He moved toward her, and without warning, enveloped her in his arms.

"Thank you," he murmured.

She returned the embrace and felt the warmth and power emanating from him, confirming that he was cured.

"I'm glad I could help." Her voice was muffled with emotion, and from the strength of his embrace. She had never been hugged like this, not even as a child. So warm, so all-encompassing; the feeling of being safe. Of being home. Thank God she had saved Castiel in time. He gently disengaged from their embrace and cupped her cheek with his hand, healing her wound from the night before, and they looked at each other warmly.

Dean entered the room then, and the spell was broken. She reluctantly separated from Castiel and all three of them focused on Dean.

"I'm cured, Dean, " Cas said simply, and walked over to him. Dean clapped a hand on Cas's shoulder in that form of a hug he had, when he was trying to express his feelings. "I'm glad, man," he said to Cas. They shared a moment, and then Dean turned and approached Gail. He took both of her hands in both of his. "I'm sorry. Really, really sorry," Dean said to her.

She could tell by the look on his face that he meant it, and feel from the physical contact that he was deeply ashamed of his behaviour the previous night. She also tell that Dean had a good heart beneath his tough-guy facade. It wasn't his fault that the Mark was leeching into his skin and changing his personality. She wondered if there was any way she could help him out with that. She was sure that Sam would have researched the hell out of it, though. She made a mental note to ask him, after the business at hand was concluded.

"It's OK, I understand," she said to Dean. He lifted an eyebrow as if to say Do you, really? But he said nothing. Gail walked over to Sam's side and asked him if he had any new ideas.

"I think we need to go back to the place where you and Frank were taken," Sam replied. "We need to see if there are any physical clues there. Besides," he continued, looking her briefly up and down, "you'll want a change of clothes and a few personal items, I imagine."

Inwardly, Gail sighed with relief. At least they had a plan of action. It made sense to her to start at the point of their abduction. Things had happened so fast and furious when she and Frank were taken; there might just be something there. It was probably grasping at straws, but at least it was something to do. And quite honestly, she would be glad of the opportunity to throw some of her clothes and things into a bag and give Sam back his shirt. As for the clothes she had been wearing the night before, as far as she was concerned, they could burn them.

"OK, let's get rolling," Dean said briskly. "We can stop at the diner for breakfast, first. I'm starving."

The four of them arrived at the motel room where Gail and Frank had been staying, later that morning. Dean slipped the lock. It was alarmingly easy to do, Gail thought disgustedly. They entered the room. It was nothing fancy, just your average motel room. Two beds, a bathroom, TV and coffeemaker. This was supposed to be just a whistle stop for the siblings. They had been on the road, heading towards the anonymity of a big city, when they had decided to stop for the night. That's what had made the abduction all the more surprising. It wasn't as if they had settled in for a while and been reconnoitered. They must have been followed here, Gail thought. Which raised a whole lot more questions, all of them worrisome. If that was the case, when did the Demons pick up their trail? Frank was usually so careful about that. But those guys had come well prepared, and loaded for bear. When Frank and Gail had returned from dinner at a local restaurant and parked the car in front of their room, they were blitzed from behind and Frank had been forced to let them all into the room when a knife was held to Gail's throat. Once inside, two massive Demons had subdued Frank despite his struggles, and the other more average-sized Demon had hogtied Gail.

"Are we taking them to the house?" the one who tied up Gail had said to the other two.

"Shut up, Steve," one of Frank's captors had said. "Remember what the Boss said? No conversation. Just tend to your business."

"I'm already finished." There was a touch of resentment in Steve's voice. When he had grabbed Gail to subdue her and tie her up, she had discerned that he was constantly bullied by the other two due to his smaller stature, and he wasn't happy about it. She wondered if she could use that to her advantage, later on. She had shuddered as Steve cupped her cheek with his hand. "This one was easy," Steve said. "Not bad-looking, either."

"Sure, she was easy," the other Demon retorted. "She's not the Hunter." He gestured to Frank, who was on the floor, hogtied and fuming. "But take care with that one," he advised Steve, gesturing back at Gail. "The Boss wants her in one piece. And you don't want to piss him off."

Steve fell silent at this, his cockiness gone. No, he did not want to piss off the King of Hell. He had heard too many stories about other Demons who thought they had the balls to defy Crowley, only to find out how wrong they were. With Crowley, you were one-and-done. That was how Crowley had been able to keep his throne for so long, with so many of his minions chomping at the bit to stab him in the back and take his place. Demons were so called for a reason; they were not very nice, and Crowley was the cruelest s.o.b. of them all.

Frank and Gail had been carted from the room and were dumped in the back of the pickup truck, parked so innocently next to Frank's car. The two burly Demons went up front, leaving Steve to latch the tailgate. At that moment, though, Steve heard a noise behind him and panicked. Fearing discovery, he hurried to get into the cab of the pickup with the others and forgot to close the tailgate, facilitating Gail's escape.

Dean and Sam, Castiel and Gail looked around the motel room. There were minimal signs of a struggle, as they had been overpowered so quickly. However, the brothers began poking around anyway. Gail opened the closet and got out her travel bag, and then she went to the dresser and pulled open the drawers to get her clothes.

Castiel waited patiently, as he always did. He was disgusted by the story of the abduction and a little surprised by the efficiency with which it had been carried out. These Demons did not sound like the type to plan an organized kidnap, more like the "muscle". What was Crowley up to? Although Castiel was glad for Gail's sake that Frank had been taken alive, he was puzzled by this fact. And he hadn't liked the implications of the comment made that Crowley wanted Gail in one piece. Why did Crowley want Gail? Had he found out about her special abilities, and wanted to use her in some way? Castiel feared that must be the case; otherwise, why take them alive?

While Castiel was coming to his fearful conclusion and debating whether to voice it out loud in Gail's presence, Dean discovered something on the floor by the far bed. He stooped to pick it up, and saw that it was a business card. "Red River Pub" was embossed on the card in red, with an address and a phone number. He flipped it over and saw that the address of the motel where they were right now was written on the back.

"Hey, Gail," Dean called out. She was in the bathroom changing into her own clothes and doing a quick check for anything left behind, and she hurried out. "Yeah? Did you find something?" she asked him.

Dean held up the card. "This yours?"

She took it from him. "No, I've never seen it before."

Dean smirked. "I bet you one of those asshats dropped it. Looks like we get to have a couple of beers tonight."

Gail smiled back, greatly encouraged by the quick lead and the apparent incompetence of her and Frank's captors. "I'm more of a wine girl, myself."

After another, more cursory sweep of the room, they left to return to the bunker and wait for that evening's stakeout at the pub. Dean, Gail and Sam all felt like this was the break they were looking for. Probably the pub was one of the Demons' watering hole; if that was the case, he would inevitably turn up there and lead them straight to the place where Frank was being held. The Mark twitched on Dean's arm as he looked forward to showing a few idiot Demons the consequences of messing with Hunters.

But, Castiel was troubled. He also had little doubt that their stakeout would yield results, but it had been almost too easy. This was starting to feel like a trap.

Frank lay panting in the centre of the cage, bleeding profusely and trying not to moan. Jesus, these guys played rough. He had sustained wounds in battle before, but this had been a one-sided torture fest.

The Demons' anger once getting to the den and discovering that Gail had escaped had been terrible to behold, and they had been taking it out on each other, but mostly on him. Frank also knew they were afraid. He could pick up bits and pieces of their conversations from the kitchen above his head. The one they called Steve had blurted out the name "Crowley" and Frank's blood boiled. The bastard who had killed his parents! It sounded, from what he could overhear, that these three Demons had kidnapped Frank and Gail on Crowley's instructions, and now that they had lost one of their captives, they were debating about what to do. They couldn't stall Crowley forever, but they were afraid to tell him how badly they had screwed up, and he was expecting a report.

Their solution was to inflict as much pain on Frank's body as possible, mostly in rage and frustration. For his part, he claimed not to know anything about Gail's disappearance; last he knew, they were bound hand and foot, gagged and blindfolded. How was he supposed to know why she wasn't in the truck, once they got to their destination?

If he hadn't been in such severe pain, Frank would have laughed right in their idiot faces. Gail was free, and that was all he cared about. And if they were about to suffer dire consequences at the hands of Crowley for allowing her to escape, that would be fan-freaking-tastic. He only hoped he would live long enough to be a fly on the wall for the show.

And why HADN'T they killed him, anyway? Not that he was complaining, but...it was really strange. He had yet to hear of the Demon who would incapacitate a Hunter and then not only allow the Hunter to live, but take him for a car ride. Frank had suffered badly at the hands of these guys, it was true, but he had survived. The question was: Why?

The one they called Steve entered the room then, and regarded Frank through the bars of his cage as if trying to decide something. Frank glared back at him defiantly, rising up as best he could against the pain. Damned if he was going to give them the satisfaction of seeing him suffer.

After a couple of minutes of silence, Steve spoke. "Your luck's running out," he taunted Frank.

Frank opened his mouth to retort but it was full of blood. He spat in Steve's direction, then said: "Luck?! If this is luck, you'd better let me out, so I can play the Lotto. If I win big, I'll cut you in. I have the feeling you'll need to buy a plane ticket, when your Boss gets here." Frank laughed, faking a bravado he didn't feel. "Or a coffin, or whatever you guys do."

He'd hit a nerve. Steve was indeed terrified of what would happen to him when Crowley got here. His two cohorts would throw him under the proverbial bus in a heartbeat. Though none of them would escape punishment, since Steve was the one responsible for not securing the tailgate, his would be the most severe. Well, if he was going down, he was taking everyone with him, starting with this smug son of a bitch. He withdrew a knife from his pocket and was about to unlock the cage when a voice from upstairs bellowed, "Steve! What the hell are you doing? Get up here!"

The look that crossed Steve's face then would have been frightening to most people, but Frank actually had to suppress a grin. This guy was so pathetic, he was a misfit even among other Demons. Still, Frank thought, I'd better keep my mouth shut. He didn't think he could withstand many more wounds and survive, not without Gail around to heal him.

Steve put away his knife and with a final glare at Frank, turned and went up the basement stairs, slamming the door behind him.

Frank slumped to the floor. With nothing to do but bleed and wonder how many hours he had left on this earth, his thoughts went out to Gail. Wherever she was now, he hoped she was safe. Frank hadn't completely given up hope of escape, but he had to face it: his prospects did not look good. So, he tried to look on the bright side. Maybe with him gone, Gail could finally have some semblance of a normal life.

Back at the bunker, Gail was getting antsy. The hours dragged by as they waited till nightfall, when the four of them would go to the Red River Pub to begin their watch for one of her kidnappers to show up, or for any Demon activity connected with the place. She had a cup of coffee, then another, but the caffeine was only making her more jittery. She tried to peruse some of the books but even the lure of her first love, the printed word, couldn't calm her. She finally announced she was going to her room to try to take a nap in anticipation of a late night ahead.

Once Gail had left the room, Castiel felt safe to discuss his thoughts about the kidnapping and the possible motive behind it with Sam and Dean.

"Why would Crowley have them kidnapped?" he asked the brothers. "Why not just kill them both?" He immediately answered his own question. "I think he's really after Gail. He must have found out about her abilities, and wants to use her in some way. And he's kept her brother alive to motivate her into doing whatever it is he wants done."

Both Sam and Dean had to admit that this theory might have some merit. All three men had had their entanglements with Crowley in the past, and they knew that he never acted without thinking five steps ahead. His was an intelligent and manipulative kind of evil, and everything he did or said was designed to benefit him, and him alone. Though the brothers had actually hijacked Crowley about a year ago and injected him with human blood, its effect was inconclusive, at best. Once Dean had killed Abbadon, Crowley's main rival for the throne, he'd once again taken up the mantle of the King of Hell as if nothing had ever happened. And more recently, when the Mark of Cain had turned Dean Demon, he and Crowley had actually hung out together, like the Unholiest of BFFs. However, after a while, even Crowley had grown tired of their association and had allowed Sam to reclaim Dean. Crowley had even come to Castiel's aid by killing an Angel and injecting Castiel with some much-needed Grace as Castiel lay near death on the side of the road, an act that none of the three had ever found out about. So what kind of game was Crowley playing? Ever since Sam and Castiel had brought Dean back from his Demonic state, the three had entered into a strange kind of detente with Crowley. He was out of sight but not out of mind, and they knew he would have to be dealt with eventually. Now, in light of his apparent involvement in the abduction of Gail and her brother, maybe the time had come to finish him, once and for all.

Crowley was far from finished at the moment, but he was losing his patience. He was awaiting the report that Frank and especially Gail had been captured, and it should have come in by now. Even though he had been around for a few thousand years, at least, Crowley had only been on this earth for a few decades this time around, and he had grown increasingly frustrated at the snail's pace with which things moved here. Though he and his minions retained their Demonic powers once taking over their human vessels, in order to accomplish their goals and not call attention to themselves, they sometimes had to work within the limits of human custom. Which meant using telephones, driving vehicles, and opening doors, all of which he found cumbersome and annoying. Which was why he had decided to wait another day for the report. But he was done waiting.

He took out his cell phone and called the number. One of the Demons he had assigned to the task answered.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

Crowley rolled his eyes. It was the one who called himself Steve, the useless dogsbody that the other two had insisted on taking along. He hadn't even mastered the art of answering a phone, Crowley thought. He must be somebody's nephew.

"It's Crowley," he barked into the phone. The idiot obviously hadn't figured out Call Display, either.

Silence. Another beat. Two. Crowley was looking forward to downsizing his staff in gruesome and creative ways once this was all over, and this guy would be the first to go.

"Well?" he raised his voice. "Have you got them?"

Steve felt the shock of terror course through his body. What was he going to do? "Sure, Boss," he fawned. Well, it was half true. He thought furiously, trying to come up with a stall tactic, but nothing came. Steve was definitely not the sharpest of Demons.

Suddenly the phone was torn from his grasp by one of his companions.

"We've got them at a safe house, but...the truck broke down and it's in the shop. Once it's fixed, we'll bring them to you." Though annoyed, Steve couldn't help but be impressed. This guy knew how to stall.

But Crowley had waited long enough. "No, I'll come there."

By the panicked look on his fellow Demon's face, even a moron like Steve knew what was about to happen. He fled the house.

Back at the bunker, Sam, Castiel and Gail were ready to go to the pub. They were waiting for Dean. He told them he wanted to do one last check on the weapons. In reality, he was in the bathroom, washing his face and trying to calm down. All four of them had been talking about the feeling they had that they might be walking into a trap, talking and talking, until Dean had to excuse himself. He had kept it together all day long, but now the Mark had started to burn again, and he was itching for the confrontation he was sure lay ahead. He didn't give a damn whether or not it was a trap. There were going to be deaths tonight if they were led to the den, and Dean was determined to be responsible for as many of them as possible. He hadn't had any action in weeks. Under normal circumstances his adrenaline would be pumping him up in a positive way, preparing him for battle. But this blood lust felt dangerous, and he'd had to excuse himself because he needed to calm down. Courage was one thing; recklessness was another.

He dried his face and hands, took a deep breath, and went out to join the others.

Steve walked the streets for several hours, trying frantically to think of something, anything he could do to save his sorry Demon ass. Finally, he came to the inevitable conclusion that he was truly screwed. Crowley was coming, and when he got here he was NOT going to be pleased. Those other guys would put as much of the blame as they could on Steve to try and save their own hides, but this wasn't going to end well for any of them once Crowley discovered they were one captive short.

All right, then. If this was going to be his last night on this or any other world, he might as well spend it trying to get falling-down drunk. He smiled thinly. He didn't think Demons were able to get drunk, but if they could, he was going to try. He didn't think he'd need to worry about the hangover, though. He'd probably be torn to pieces by morning.

Sam and Dean brought beers for themselves and Cas, and a glass of wine for Gail. They had picked a table that was in view of the door, but far enough away from it that they wouldn't be spotted by anyone coming through the front door. As the only one who had seen her captors, Gail sat facing the door, ready to alert the others. Dean was sitting beside her, with Sam and Castiel sitting opposite but turned slightly so their backs were not completely facing the door. They could all sense that something was going to happen tonight; it was just a question of when.

So they nursed their drinks and talked, trying to behave normally. They talked about sports, music, and events in the news. Sam and Dean had a spirited debate about the greatest rock band ever, and when Castiel asked Dean if he liked One Direction, Sam laughed and Dean choked on his beer, while Cas looked puzzled. Gail smiled at all three of them fondly. How she wished this were just a night out with the guys. They could have a few drinks, eat wings, and definitely laugh some more. Maybe she would hustle Dean at pool. Then again, probably not; she was willing to bet that he was very good at the game. But it would be fun just to hang, like normal people leading normal lives did. She glanced across the table at Sam and he tipped his beer bottle at her as if he knew what she was feeling.

Then she looked at Castiel. He was looking around the room, then at Sam, then at Dean, but not at her. Kind of weird. But then again, from what she had been able to piece together, he was awkward around women in social situations and there were quite a few of them here, herself included. This was probably his standard behaviour in a place like this.

But it wasn't really, not any more. Since he'd been around the Winchesters so often, Castiel had learned how to hang around in places like this with relative ease and found he could even enjoy a beer or two with the brothers. As pubs went, it wasn't the seediest dive they had ever been to but it was definitely blue-collar, and there were actually fewer women around than might be found in a higher-end place.

No, that wasn't Castiel's problem. As the minutes passed by, then an hour, his dread grew. He had advised them earlier that this was almost certainly a set-up. He knew that this would not be a deterrent, nor had he expected it to be. But he was concerned about Gail's presence here. This could go from a stakeout to a life-or-death struggle in a heartbeat, and he was determined to protect her.

Crowley stood in front of the cage where Frank was being held, staring at him dispassionately. In reality, he was furious, madder than he'd ever been. But he hadn't gotten this far by venting his rage at the first opportunity. He needed to think, to decide what the most logical course of action should be.

This guy was on his last legs, Crowley realized. There would be no point in torturing him further. He had finally admitted to pushing Gail off the truck when Crowley had so politely asked by having him further slashed and beaten. But beyond that, Frank couldn't tell them anything, no matter how much pain was inflicted on him. Crowley shook his head in disgust. While one less Hunter in the world was a good thing, if this guy died Crowley would lose his bargaining chip, when they recaptured his sister. Oh well, there was more than one way to skin a cat; and being a Demon himself, he had literal knowledge of this. There was more than one way to get a human to do your bidding.

But he was still pissed. It had been a good plan and if it had been properly executed, Crowley would have had Gail and her powers at his beck and call by now. When he gave orders, he expected them to be followed to the letter. And to top it all off, the cheeky bastards had had the temerity, the ultimate nerve, to lie to him when he'd had to call for the report!? A part of Crowley, likely the human part he kept hidden, couldn't really blame them. He had not exactly achieved his throne by frolicking with puppies and holding fund-raisers for the blind. He would deal with his minions in his usual ruthless fashion once Gail was recaptured, and things were back on track.

For now, he would wait, though he allowed himself a moment's petulance. "String him up by his heels," Crowley said, gesturing to Frank, as the two remaining Demons rushed to do his bidding.

As Crowley strode from the room and the two burly Demons entered the cage, Frank stirred, but could no longer put up a fight. His cockiness was gone and soon he would be, too. He just wished he'd had the chance to see Gail one last time to tell her he was sorry, that he loved her, and to have a good life.

Steve entered the pub and headed directly to the bar, ordering a double whiskey. He drank it straight down when it came and immediately ordered another. He was gonna miss booze. He stared down into his drink, feeling both scared and sad at the same time.

Having pretty much resigned himself to an imminent and gruesome death, Steve did not look around and take stock of his surroundings as he usually would have. If he had, he might have seen Gail sitting at the table across the room, clutching Dean's arm as she recognized him. If he had seen her first, the events of that night and beyond might have gone quite differently.

"It's him! Steve! At the bar!" Gail's voice shook with excitement as she gripped Dean's arm.

They all looked over at the man she'd indicated, trying to be discreet, but amazingly, he was staring into his drink and hadn't seen them looking.

"We need a plan," Sam said quietly.

"Let's go get the guy," Dean said at the same time.

Castiel's was the voice of reason. "We've got to get Gail out of here before he sees her and 'the jig is up', as they say."

Reminding himself to tell Cas later that no one had said that in 70 years or so, Dean grabbed Gail's hand and propelled her to the front door of the pub and outside. Castiel and Sam followed.

They got into the Impala, which was parked across the street, and debated what to do. They were divided; Sam and Gail thought they should wait for Steve to come out of the pub and follow him. Dean thought they should put a knife to Steve's throat immediately and force him to take them to the den, and Castiel agreed with Dean.

"If we wait too long, something could go wrong and we could lose him," Cas argued persuasively.

"Yeah, and what if we follow him when he leaves and he goes somewhere else?" Dean chimed in, picking up the thread of logic.

Sam had to admit they both had a point, and Gail deferred to their expertise. She was this close to getting her brother back and didn't want anything to ruin her chances.

"Wait here, I'll be right back," Dean said, exiting the car. He walked back across the street and entered the pub. Sam considered going with him for a moment, but held back. Dean could handle it.

Dean went back to the table where they had been sitting and grabbed his half-full beer bottle, sitting back down as if nothing had happened. He regarded Steve out of the corner of his eye. How to get this guy without calling attention to himself?

Then, as if in answer to an unspoken request, Steve pushed off his bar stool and walked to the front door of the pub, taking a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. Dean smiled. This asshat was about to find out that the Surgeon General was right; smoking did kill.

He got up and followed Steve outside. Steve was standing off to the side and looking down the street as he lit up a smoke, and did not seem to hear Dean behind him or notice the Impala across the street.

Dean gave Sam a quick motion and spoke to Steve. "Hey buddy, can I bum one of those?"

Steve wheeled around. Dean smiled at him disarmingly. "Trying to quit, man, but I had a few beers, and..."

"Yeah, sure," Steve said, and extended the pack to him. Dean took a cigarette out and tried not to look at Sam, who was quietly crossing the street behind Steve. "Got a light?" Dean asked the Demon, keeping his attention so Sam could get into position.

Steve had just reached into his pocket for his lighter when he felt the cold steel blade at his neck. "Don't move," Sam said into his ear. "Don't yell, don't breathe, don't even blink."

Dean smiled inwardly. Sam sounded like a badass. He flung away the cigarette. It was a disgusting habit, anyway.

"What you're gonna do now," Dean said to Steve in an even, almost friendly tone, "is take us to the place you're holding the Hunter."

Crap. Steve's eyes widened with anger and fear until there was nothing but black.

"I don't know what you're talking about-" he attempted, but Sam interrupted him, pressing the blade even closer. "Don't. Even. Try."

Steve didn't see that he had much of a choice, but his mind was working furiously now, and he was tossing alternatives back and forth like a football. If Crowley was still there, these guys didn't stand a chance. And if they knew about the Hunter, they were on the wrong side. Could he make a peace offering to Crowley by bringing these two back with him, maybe?

That was the apex of his intellectual thought process. Bottom line, Steve only cared about saving his own ass, just like any Demon. If he had been capable of thinking it through, Steve might have realized that these guys knew far too much to be ordinary men, and maybe bringing them back to the den wasn't the greatest of ideas. But he was desperate to achieve some sort of redemption with the King, and he had convinced himself that this could be a way.

Sam and Dean walked Steve over to the car and, looking around to make sure they weren't being seen, tied his hands behind his back. Sam opened the back door and pushed Steve into the car, then got into the front passenger seat as Dean started the car.

Who the hell were these people? Steve thought. His eyes had taken on a human appearance again, and were adjusting to the darkness of the car's interior. He was sitting next to a tallish man wearing a trenchcoat, and sitting in the far driver's side seat was a person that appeared to be a woman.

"Surprise, asshat," Dean said, and flipped on the interior light. Steve saw Gail's face and gasped.

Castiel was disgusted to be sitting this close to one of Gail's abductors and though he did not particularly enjoy killing, even the killing of Demons, his hand itched for his blade. But they needed Steve, for the moment.

"Where to?" demanded Dean. Steve began giving him instructions on how to get to the den, quite voluntarily now. He sat back as comfortably as he could. He couldn't believe his luck! He was bringing the girl back! Crowley would have to forgive him, now. He might even get a promotion. He smirked. These guys had no idea what they were walking into.

When told they were a block away from the house, Dean slowed the car down, then coasted in to park at the end of the block. He and Sam exited the car, shutting the doors quietly, and Sam opened the back door where Steve sat, while Dean opened the trunk of the car.

"Cas?" Sam said, gesturing towards where Dean was.

"I'm coming," he told Sam, "but I'm not leaving him alone with Gail, even for a minute." He patted his coat pocket. "I've got what I need, right here. Give me the sign when you and Dean are loaded up, and we'll go."

Loaded up? Steve thought. That didn't sound good. What was this guy they called Dean doing in the trunk? And then it hit him: Dean. Black muscle car. Oh crap, unholy mother-bleeping...He was bringing Dean and Sam Winchester to a Demon safe house! And this guy in the trenchcoat? Of course. He could only be Castiel, an Angel of the Lord and the Winchesters' bum-buddy. Just perfect. Crowley was gonna freak. If there was anything that pissed Crowley off more than Hunters, it was goody-two-shoes Angels, and Castiel was the worst of the best of them all.

But it was too late. Sam grabbed Steve's arm and yanked him out of the car, bringing him to the back of the car where Dean was. Steve saw the array of weapons in the trunk as Dean began handing them out to the other men, and his black Demon heart sank. This was gonna be bad.

Dean handed Castiel a gun just on general principles and then looked at Gail, who had also gotten out of the car and was now standing beside him.

"Anything for you?" he said. Despite the seriousness of the situation, her face twitched. He sounded like a sales clerk at Weapons 'R' Us. She must remember to tell that to Frank.

She considered for a moment, but shook her head. Frank had tried to teach her to use various weapons over the years, but her heart had never been in it and he had given up. These guys looked fully capable of doing what needed to be done, and all she wanted to do was give her brother a big hug when she saw him.

Now armed to the teeth, they walked to the house and just as they were ascending the porch steps, Steve let out a yell. "Winchesters!" he screamed. Things were so screwed now anyway it no longer mattered; he might as well try to give the house's occupants a heads-up.

The element of surprise now gone, Dean blew open the front door with a shotgun and they all rushed into the house. Castiel made sure Gail was behind him. As they moved through the rooms, heads swiveling back and forth, he murmured to her, "Stay close."

She wasn't about to argue. While excited at the prospect of seeing Frank again, she was all too aware of the peril they were in as they advanced through the house. Demons did not generally give up without trying to take everyone in the vicinity down with them.

They passed through the hallway into a large kitchen area, where the other two Demons that had abducted her and Frank were waiting. They had heard the warning yell and the shotgun blast and were standing their ground, prepared for battle. Imagine the rewards they would get if they were able to take down the Winchesters.

Dean stared up at the Demons. Holy crap; they were big sons of bitches. And ugly, of course. Knowing his shotgun would be useless on them, Dean looked behind him and handed it to Gail, who took it because she understood. Then Dean, Sam and Castiel simultaneously removed their blades from inside their coats and the fight was on.

Though they were outnumbered three to two, their enemies fought fiercely, knowing what was at stake. They obtained sadistic pleasure from the physical act of inflicting pain on humans, and were even more motivated by the thought of how many of their kind these guys had dispatched over the years.

Steve, hands still bound behind his back, stood to the side and watched. A coward at heart, he was content to look on as his cohorts kicked the crap out of the good guys. And besides, his hands were literally tied, so what could he do? He glanced over at Gail, who had shrunk back against the wall, looking horrified as her new friends' blood was spilled. Stupid bitch, Steve thought. Once her buddies were dead, Crowley would have her back, and Steve would be the one who had delivered her. This could work out, yet. And if Steve's "buddies" sustained painful injuries during the battle, so much the better, he thought gleefully.

But where exactly was Crowley, anyway?

Crowley was downstairs in the basement, staring up the steps leading to the kitchen access door, enjoying the sounds of pain. He really didn't care who the grunts and yells were emanating from. All Demons were sadistic bastards at heart; it was definitely in the job description. And as long as the result went Crowley's way, he cared very little about how many dead bodies or how much blood would result on either side. The King didn't clean up. That was what minions were for.

When the battle began, it had looked as if Sam, Dean and Castiel were finally going to meet their match. But as Dean was flung across the room for the third or fourth time, he was starting to get seriously pissed. Even though these guys were behemoths, they should have had them, by now. There were three of them, and only two on the other side. That sniveling little coward Steve had decided to sit this one out.

Dean could feel the Mark starting to burn. He usually fought the rage it brought, but now, he opened up and let it in. A moment later, he was in full beast mode. With the extra juice, he made an inarticulate, guttural roar and charged back into the fray. A few minutes later, the tide started to turn. With Dean's Demon-like fury allowed free reign, he made short work of the asshat who had thrown him against the wall, and then it was three against one. Sam and Castiel had the bastard on his knees and were about to deliver the killing blow. Dean looked around, his blood lust unsatisfied, and saw Steve cowering against the opposite wall. This was the little snothead who had tied Gail up in the first place. Dean sneered. Wussy. Man enough to tie up a woman, but no balls to stand up to another man.

Dean strode over to Steve and slashed the ropes that bound the Demon's hands behind his back, freeing him, daring him to fight. But Steve just stood there. As they made eye contact, Steve's mouth dropped open. Dean's eyes were full-on black, and boring right through him. Dean Winchester, Supreme Hunter, was a Demon?

This was the last thought Steve would ever have. Dean's knife slashed through his body then, over and over again, ending his pathetic existence.

Crowley has been listening all this time at the foot of the stairs. Now as things fell silent, he continued to listen. Who had survived and which side they were on would determine his next course of action.

"Are you guys all OK?" he heard a man call out from upstairs. Voices murmured back, but that one voice was all Crowley needed to hear. It belonged to Sam Winchester, of all people. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling in a Why Me? gesture. Where there was a Sam, there would be a Dean, and where there was a Dean, there would likely be a certain Angel not far behind. He made a face. He should have figured as much. Really, hadn't he known all along? After all, he had invited them here, hadn't he?

While he was not the least bit afraid of these three, Crowley was not in the mood for any witty repartee just now. Three of his minions were obviously dead, the Hunter they were supposed to have kept alive would soon be, and he did not have Gail, which had been the object of this whole FUBAR mission in the first place. Sometimes, it just sucked to be him.

Sam had walked over to Gail when she did not reply, and he put his hand on her shoulder. She was staring into space, shocked by the carnage she had witnessed. She had on occasion healed Frank's wounds when he had gotten back from a particularly intense battle but she had never seen him at work, never wanted to, and now she knew why. Although Gail was glad to see the Demons dispatched from this Earth, she was sickened by the blood and the violence. She knew her brother Frank to be a kind and gentle soul for the most part, and though they'd had their sibling moments from time to time, she couldn't quite reconcile what she'd seen here with the person she knew Frank to be. She resolved to be kinder to him in the future now that she'd seen first-hand what he had to do.

"Gail!" Sam raised his voice a bit, snapping her out of her reverie. "Are you OK?"

Crowley heard, and his face burst into a grin. Thank you, Moose, you splendid boy, he thought. He must be slipping; he should have known they wouldn't leave her alone back in the bunker, not when her brother was here.

Now that he knew for sure where Gail was and whose company she was in, taking her should be a piece of cake if he planned it right. Smug and self-satisfied once more, Crowley disappeared from the house.

Moments later, Dean opened the door to the basement. "Hey, guys, he's probably down here," he called out to the others. "In the movies they always keep the victims in the basement." He was on a high from the killings, and oblivious of the insensitivity of his words.

They all trooped down the stairs and were confronted by a horrible sight. There was a large cage on the opposite side of the room and what looked like a human body suspended by the ankles in the centre of the cage.

"FRANK!" Gail screamed, and ran towards the cage. He was beaten and bloody, hanging there like a slab of meat in a slaughterhouse. After what she had just witnessed, this was too much. Her nerve broke, and she started to weep.

Frank was beyond surprised. How the hell had she found him? Though he'd always known his little sister was smart and resourceful, this was more than he could have expected. He smiled weakly as the full impact of the irony hit him. His sister, the Healer, delivered to him just when it was apparent that it was too late.

And who were these guys with her? They must be okay, or she wouldn't be with them. Gail had never had any trouble separating the good from the bad, especially given her abilities. He had heard the sounds of battle upstairs and saw the results on their clothes. Obviously they could handle themselves and obviously, they had taken care of his sister. He said a quick prayer of gratitude.

Frank had also seen that bastard Crowley listening at the foot of the stairs during the battle and had seen him smile before disappearing from the house. Frank didn't like that smile, didn't like it at all. Though Frank could do nothing further for Gail, he needed to warn her and her new protectors that this was far from over.

He struggled to speak as the blood filled his throat. "Crowley..."

That hit Gail like a ton of bricks. There was that name again, the most hated name in their family, the first word out of her brother's mouth. She guessed she would have to learn to wield one of those Demon-killing knives after all.

But first things first. They had to get Frank out of there, so she could heal him. She shook the bars of the cage in frustration.

"We have to get him out of there!" she yelled, turning back to the men. "Now!"

Dean's blood was boiling again. Crowley. He had been a thorn in their side since they'd had the misfortune of making his acquaintance, but he'd now been promoted to Public Enemy Number One. Look at what he'd done to this poor bastard.

He approached the cage, looking around for any opening, any vulnerability. But he couldn't see it; couldn't think through the red haze of rage. Dean grabbed the bars of the cage and shook them furiously, as if his anger alone could collapse the steel.

Sam was appalled. With all he'd seen and everything he'd been through, he had not lost the capacity to be shocked at the depths of evil. He now realized this was all his fault, and Castiel's, and Dean's. They should have killed Crowley years ago. Why hadn't they? They knew what he was, and what he was capable of. Instead, they had injected him with human blood in a lame-ass attempt to reform him, instill him with some sort of conscience. What the hell were they thinking? Dean had been right all along; a scumbag was a scumbag, and monsters did not change.

If Gail's brother died because of them...well, he couldn't let that happen. They had to get him out of that cage. But how?

Hacksaw! They had a hacksaw in the trunk of the car. Sam wheeled and ran up the basement stairs, his long legs taking several steps at a time.

Castiel was horrified at the sight of Frank, and his heart broke for Gail. Healing powers or not, one look at her brother and he knew it was too late to bring him back; even Castiel himself could not do it. Guilt also burned inside him, and so did fear, emotions that would have been foreign to him several years ago but were becoming commonplace now. But unlike the Winchesters, he was able to compartmentalize these human feelings as he realized what needed to be done.

Castiel also ascended the stairs, one step at a time, retracing their path to the kitchen where the Demons' bodies lay. He searched the pockets of the closest one and found the key.

Sam rushed back downstairs with the hacksaw only to find that Castiel was already opening the cage with the key he had found. Sam mentally smacked himself upside the head.

Gail was the first to rush inside the cage. "Cut him down!" she pleaded, and Sam dropped the hacksaw and withdrew his knife. He cut the ropes that bound Frank's ankles as Dean caught Frank and lowered him to the floor.

Gail flung herself at her brother, quickly assessing the physical damage to his body. She had never healed anyone this badly hurt before and she hesitated for a moment, her confidence wavering.

Frank took the opportunity to take both of her hands in his.

"I'm glad I got to see you one more time," he said quietly. He cleared his throat, then continued, his voice a bit stronger. "There's so much I want to say to you, but there isn't time." Gail opened her mouth to protest but Frank cut her off. "No. No bullshit. I'm dying, and I need to get this out. Crowley wants you. He knows you can Heal and he wants to use you, get you to join his team." Frank coughed, then continued, "Looks like you're in good hands with these guys, but you need to know...he won't stop until he gets what he wants."

Gail was sobbing freely now. "Let me help you, then we can talk about that when you're better - " But Frank interrupted again. "You can't help me, kiddo, I'm too far gone."

No, she wouldn't believe that. She tried to extricate her hands from his so she could put them on his chest and begin the Healing process, but his grip was impossibly firm despite his condition.

"Look at me, " he demanded, and she looked into his eyes. They were shining with tears. "Promise me," he faltered, but went on, "Promise me you'll try to have a normal life, once Crowley's dead. Find a guy, get married..." He coughed again. "I'm sorry, Gail. I'm sorry I let you down. I'm sorry I have to leave you. I love you, kiddo..."

Then the light went out of Frank's eyes, he hitched a breath, and he was gone.

No. No way. Screaming, sobbing, shaking him, putting her hands on his bloody chest. You're not dead, I'm healing you, Goddammit, then you'll have to apologize for pulling such a sick joke. She willed the golden glow to commence, but nothing came. Just like their parents. Just like their parents! No! No.

When he could no longer bear it, Castiel entered the cage and wrapped his arms around Gail, pretending his wings were enveloping her. He had to pull and drag her away from Frank's body at first, enduring the kicks and curse words issuing from her as his due. Then, as Sam and Dean picked up Frank's body and carried it from the house, Gail slumped, and fought no more. Castiel helped her up the stairs and they passed through the kitchen, where Gail looked dispassionately down at the bodies of the Demons there. She kicked the nearest one in the face, shook off Castiel's grip, and continued under her own power towards the front door of the house. It wasn't until they'd reached the porch and she saw Dean and Sam putting her brother's dead body into the trunk of the car that she blacked out, cold.