Chapter 7

After taking a deep breath Fran began telling them about the night her family died. She had been at a friend's house watching movies. It was summer so she could stay out later. It was 10:30 when her friend's mom dropped her off and Fran knew something was off as soon as she walked in the house. It was oddly quiet. Normally her parents would still be up. Her older brother would be watching television, her little sister would be arguing about going to bed. Her grandmother lived with them too, sometimes she had trouble sleeping. They had two dogs and a cat that always wanted attention. The Frank house was always full of life, love and noise.

But that night in July something was different. The silence was deafening. There was a smell in the air, like sulfur mixed with a sickeningly sweet odor. Fran walked through the kitchen and looked toward the family room. There was blood everywhere. The walls were covered in blood. There was blood in puddles on the floor. She saw the bloody, mangled bodies of her family. She wanted to scream, but nothing would come out. She wanted to run away, but couldn't move.

Then she realized she wasn't alone, her father was sitting on the arm of the sofa. He looked up at her and sneered. "Frances, Frances, Frances…tsk…tsk…tsk. You missed all the fun." He laughed like her father had never laughed before. His eyes were completely black.

The man that had once been her father got up and walked toward her. As he walked he trailed his hand along the wall, leaving a thick smear of blood. "Don't worry sweetie," he said as he got closer, "I saved something special for you." He looked back at the carnage and laughed wickedly. "Looks like the family room turned into the family tomb, huh Frannie?"

Fran just stood dumbfounded as her father abruptly stopped laughing. He raised his hand and appeared to shoot flames into the furniture. The entire room burst into flames. "Pre-game is over Frances. Time for you to come and give Daddy a great….big….hug." He opened his arms wide and threw his head back, laughing as the fire spread up the walls.

The wailing of the smoke alarms startled her black-eyed father and seemed to snap Frances out of her stupor. She turned and ran from the house. He gave chase and grabbed her as she ran into the front yard. Fran screamed like she had never screamed before, knowing her life would be over within seconds.

Suddenly there were sirens and yelling. Police were on her front lawn. The neighbor who dropped her off had seen their dogs, both of which had been killed and were laying in bloody piles on the front lawn. She had called the police to report it, asking them to be discrete and not upset the family.

Fran remembered hearing someone say something, that it sounded like she was in a movie, something like "Stop or I'll shoot." Her father just laughed again and lunged for Frances. There were gunshots. Her father stopped laughing. He threw his head back and a thick swirl of black smoke flew from his mouth and nose, spinning around them and circling up until it appeared to shoot toward the sky.

Fran looked at her father then. His eyes were the deep forest green that she remembered, the black was gone. She would always remember those eyes, filled with agony. "Fran…." he whispered, just as several more shots rang out. Her entire family and the only life she had ever known was gone.

After that there were police and firemen, reporters and medical personnel, social workers and clergy, a constant parade of people. She remembered very little from the weeks that followed. The funerals were a blur. Her uncle had been contacted and showed up playing the part of her mother's concerned little brother. The truth was that her uncle, Gerard Carpenter, was a drunk who her mother had been estranged from for many years. Fran had no recollection of meeting him before. Regardless, the social workers deemed him a fit and proper person to have custody, meaning he also had control of her finances.

Within weeks of moving to Finewood her uncle had lost what little insurance money there had been. He made no attempt to accommodate his niece, they stayed in the same rundown one bedroom apartment he had lived in before. Frances slept on the couch, she had no money, only the clothes she came with. When her Uncle Gerard was home he was usually drunk. He worked as an over-the-road trucker and was gone for days at a time, leaving no money or food. The last couple times her uncle had been home he had started making rude comments and suggestions to Frances, she was getting more frightened of him.

Her uncle had been home when Artie Anderson picked her up for the party. Artie had said comforting things to Frances about keeping her safe and putting in a good word with his father so that she might get a part-time job at his family's business. She had started the evening full of hope that her life might be getting a little better. But within seconds of arriving at the party she was treated to the same welcome Dean received. Now she had no coat, no glasses and had to go home to her vile Uncle Gerard, who was most likely drunk. She honestly felt like she was at the end of her rope.

Fran wiped the tears from her face, tears she didn't even know she had shed during the telling of her story, took another deep breath and looked up at the Winchesters. The kitchen was still, no one had moved or said a word while she talked. Mr. Winchester had the strangest expression on his face, Fran couldn't tell if he was angry with her or wanting to comfort her.

The silence was more than she could handle. Finally she said, "Now is the part where you tell me I'm crazy and that I was imagining things. I've heard it all before, no one believed me." She took the tissue Dean silently offered her and noisily blew her nose. "I just don't know what I'm going to do now. Things really can't get any worse."

John chuckled lightly at that comment. "Fran, never say things can't get any worse, because in my experience, they usually do."

Sam had listened to Fran's story and was filled with sadness. He liked this girl and couldn't believe the horror she had been through. He knew they had to help her. "Dad," he asked, "is there anything we can do?"

Dean also looked to his father, "It was a demon, wasn't it Dad?"

"Most likely. With the black eyes, black smoke and smell of sulfur I can't imagine what else it would have been." He scrubbed his hand over his face. This evening sure took a turn. He wondered what brought a demon to this girl's family, it certainly didn't sound like a random attack.

"Fran," John tried to sound gentle but it sounded more like a bark. He cleared his throat and tried again, "Sorry…ahem…Fran, was anyone in your family involved with the occult? Had anyone done anything that would draw something evil to your family?"

Frances could not believe she was hearing this. Not only did these people appear to believe her, they were talking about demons like they were discussing baseball. "You're kidding me, right?"

Dean rolled his eyes at his father. Sam muttered, "Way to go dad."

John was frustrated, dealing with victims was never easy. Even though they had seen the unexplained with their own eyes they still refused to accept the possibility. "Listen, this is what I do Fran. What we do." He motioned to include Dean and Sam. "Things happen that can't be explained. I have made it my job to deal with those things, to try to save people, to save families from never having to face the same horror that we have had to deal with. I have dealt with a few demons in the past, even performed a few exorcisms. There are methods of trapping them, sending them back to hell. Your father didn't kill your family, but a demon did."

Fran looked at John in disbelief. Some of what he said made sense, but it was a lot to take in. "You have dealt with demons before?"

"Yes. I have a friend, a mentor really, who specializes in demons and exorcisms."

She looked at Sam and Dean. "Have you dealt with demons before too?"

Dean shook his head. "Nah, Dad thinks they are too dangerous for me yet, I only get to do the easy stuff like salt and bur…." Dean cut himself off when he saw the sharp look his father was giving him. Sam didn't catch on quite so quickly.

"Yeah, I don't even get to help with that, all I do is research and clean weapons. You know dad, it really isn't fair…."

"Sam!" John said sharply, "time and place boys, time and place okay?"

"Sorry sir." They said in unison.

Fran's eyes were wide and she looked from one Winchester to the other, really not knowing if she should be relieved people believed her or worried that she was with an insane family. "What do you mean you only get to do the easy stuff?" she asked Dean.

John answered for his son, not wanting things to get too far out of hand. "There are other evil things besides demons. Let's not worry about those things right now."

"What can you do about the demon that killed my family?"

"Not much Fran. He wasn't exorcised so that means he is out there somewhere. We will need to do some research, see if we can figure out why he targeted you and your family, see if there are any other stories similar to yours. If we can find a pattern of some sort maybe we could find the demon and exorcise it."

Dean had a thought about something Fran had said about the night her family died. "Dad, didn't Fran say the demon that killed her family told her he had something special planned for her, or something like that, do you think she could still be in danger?"

John had been thinking pretty much that very thing but hadn't wanted to mention it. Now he looked at the young girl sitting before him. She pulled the blanket draped over her shoulders more tightly around herself. John realized that she had most likely been thinking the same thing. Knowing he had to answer the expectant faces before him he said, "It's a possibility we have to consider."

"What do we do?" Sam asked.

"Right now," John said as he got up from the kitchenette, "I think it would be best to get Fran home. We can give her some training on what to look for and some simple ways to protect herself. We'll be around here for a while so we can help keep an eye on things."

Dean also got up from the table, thinking it was time to take Frances back home but John stopped him.

"Dean, I want you to stay here with Sammy. I'll take Frances home."

"Why you?"

"I'd like to meet her uncle. I would like to make it clear to him that Fran's safety has become very important to me."

"Sam and I can still come along, he might take a lot of convincing." Dean suggested.

"No boys, I think it would be best if I took Fran home tonight. I'm anticipating pissing her uncle off. I think it would be best if he doesn't know you are my son, that way you can check on her tomorrow. Same for Sammy. He'll be less likely to be suspicious of you two if he doesn't know you are my sons."

"I suppose," Dean reluctantly agreed, to Fran he said "is that okay with you?"

Fran was feeling the effects of the last few hours, she was tired and had a pounding headache. Really, she thought, what choice did she have? "Yes, that's okay with me."

"Good," John said, "let's get you home."