I keep forgetting to do this! I don't own Supernatural! And frankly, I'm glad I don't, because the show wouldn't be nearly as good, since I have no idea how to make a television show. Oh, well. Enjoy!

"You obviously know me. Who are you? Really."

"Very well. I was six months old when my mother burned to death above my cradle. My father was already dead, and I was taken in by my aunt. I lived peacefully with her until the age of ten, when I discovered I could…get into people's heads."

"What do you mean?"

"I began to…hear people, know instinctively what they were going to say before they said it. And that was just the beginning. By the time I was sixteen, I could control the thought processes of complete strangers. I could hear who they befriended, who they loved, where they chose to eat, everything. Needless to say, my aunt was…disgusted. She disowned me. I moved here, and married a man named Jacob Mitchell. I didn't tell him about my abilities."

"I've been there."

"I'm sure you have." Eloise regarded him with empathetic eyes. Sam smiled faintly.

"Go ahead. I'm listening."

"We were married for a year and a half when the Demon came to our door. I didn't know what it was. The only time I had ever seen it was in my infancy. It told me that my time was now. It needed me. And it needed something from me." The older woman closed her eyes, her lips pressing into a firm line. "He took my husband."

"I'm sorry. Was he…like my mother?"

"No." Eloise moved on, hurriedly changing the subject. Sam let it go. "The Demon took me with him to a small town in Nebraska. He told me where I could find a man I was supposed to look at, to read, and tell him what he was thinking."

"And?"

"I was nervous. The Demon had all the cards. I was eighteen, just a girl. I'd played with my abilities, but I had never used them, not really." Eloise's fingers trembled. "I destroyed him. That man's mind melted to jelly underneath my touch. The Demon seemed disappointed and left me. I made my way back here and here I stayed."

Sam nodded. "I'm sorry."

"And this brother of yours? He was injured too by the Demon?"

"Something like that."

Eloise smiled. "I know what you're thinking." She tapped her temple. "Mind-powers and all that. You needn't worry. You're not the first lured here by false promises by the Demon. You're not the first young man to point a gun at me." Sam balked. "We've sheltered families here before, families of our kind. Bring your brother here. We aren't powerful on our own against the Demon, but he hasn't ever set foot on our soil, either."

"Do you know a way to fix him?"

"I might."

That was good enough for Sam.

Dean didn't have time to move. A powerful, meaty hand clamped over his mouth and another across his chest and dragged him backwards, away from the sidewalk, where visibility was good, and kept dragging, until they were behind a bus, out of view of the rest of the world. The hands didn't let go, and even though Dean kicked and scratched and writhed, they only clamped down harder. The Demon came casually around the side of the bus a moment later, smiling triumphantly. Dean arched his back and twisted at the same time, a surefire way of getting free. The hands let go, and the middle Winchester danced away out of reach. It didn't last, though, because the Demon extended a hand and the resistance, that fight or flight urge in Dean's head melted away long enough for the hands to retain their hold. The Demon put his face a mere inch or two from his quarry's.

"Enjoy your movie? You know, I rather like that one myself, although the dubbing is a little contrived."

Dean responded, but his voice was muffled beyond recognition by the hand covering them, which Dean had seen when he'd broken away belonged to a man at least 6'7" and twice his girth, who had eyes as black as night. That was probably a good thing, because what he'd said would have gotten him into more trouble, anyway. The Demon lifted one hand, unwound the scarf around Dean's neck reverently, letting out his breath in one light sigh. "I do such good work, you have to agree." He scanned Dean's face with amber eyes. "Death becomes you." He waved his hand flippantly. "Let him talk, he has no one to cry to."

"What do you want?" Dean hissed as soon as the fleshy hand was away from his lips, though the powerful arms still clenched him close.

The Demon eyed him the way a collector eyes a Monet. "You turned out so well. I was afraid you wouldn't."

"I said---"

"Shhh--I know what you said." He moved in, closing the gap between himself and his prey with three steps. "I wish it had been you. I wish you'd have taken it. You're not like your brother, not so cold, are you?" The Demon brushed Dean's cheek with one slender finger. The middle Winchester shut his eyes, shuddering with revulsion. The finger slipped down to lift the medallion around Dean's neck, catching the string and pulling it forward into plain view. "Gud-elim. The god who holds aloft the sun. Fitting that you should wear it."

"Leave my family alone."

The Demon's face twisted into mock surprise. "I don't see your family here. And for the moment, they're safe."

Dean stared back, stoic and dark. He felt the chest of the man who held him rumble as he said, "Father, why do you waste your time on this one? It isn't him."

"No, but he has…other uses. Give him to me." Dean prepared to struggle as the large man released him and the far smaller Demon reached forward. He managed to twist out of reach for a moment, but the Demon's child punched him hard in the chest, hard enough to knock him backwards and straight into his enemy's arms. With strength inhuman, the beast held him against his chest. "Are you ready, Dean?" The Demon's hand clenched around the golden amulet, feeling the ridges of it carefully with his fingertips. "On the count of three. One, two--"

Dean didn't remember three, because suddenly, the world came to a screeching hault.

"So, you're him, then." Eloise's dark brown eyes watched Sam carefully, scanning him, instense enough to make the youngest Winchester uncomfortable. More to herself than to him, she murmured, "You're so young."

"You said you could answer my questions."

"And I can. Ask away."

"Why…is all this happening? What does he want with us?"

"You mean, we FALLEN."

"Fallen?"

"The ones the Demon chose, you, me, hundreds of people like us. We are FALLEN, because we are neither human nor supernatural. We include those who help us as well under the same title, because we have simply…fallen from grace." She smiled sadly. "When you meet others, you'll understand."

Sam felt another surge of questions, but surpressed them quickly. He had to cover the basics first, get what answers he could in case the situation went sour and he had to retreat. Eloise had an air of unpredictability that his training couldn't ignore or accept. "Yeah. We FALLEN."

Eloise lowered her head, her braid falling forward across her shoulder, draping itself there like a band of silver ribbon. "It's complicated. It's not a matter of randomly choosing women with babies and ending their lives over the cradle. I know you've probably thought that, but it's not true. The Demon is smart, Samuel. Smarter than we can even comprehend. He has all the cards. You, and me…he was scoping out our bloodlines for centuries before our parents even met, and…" She paused, watching Sam's face for confirmation he was ready for all the answers. She apparently found it, because a moment later she said, "There's evidence he even chose parents for us. Chose matches that combined all the right ingredients, per se."

"But why us? Why those specific bloodlines?"

Eloise pursed her lips. "I have met hundreds of FALLEN, Samuel. Hundreds. At least two hundred are within the walls of this school right now. All of us have a common history in connection with peri. You are familiar with that term, peri?"

Sam nodded slowly. "Supernatural beings believed to malevolent."

"You know your trade." A light nod. "Winchester's an English name, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"We all have common history, though we are not of the same ethnic descent. You and I have connection with the witchhunts in the early 1300's. He was behind those, did you know that? Possessing powerful men to condemn innocents who had the capacity to expose him? Those men and women burned as witches were members of the FALLEN, though they didn't call it that yet. Not with abilities, but they would have been on our side, for certain."

Sam swallowed hard. "No. I didn't know."

"We are the descendants of those innocents. The other FALLEN are like us, with ancestorial stories similar to our own."

"But why go through all that trouble? If he's as all powerful as he sounds, couldn't he just pick random babies and give them the same abilities?" Sam paused, a thought bubbling to his lips. "He did give them to us, right? I mean, we're not naturally…"

"Freaks? No, no, he gave them to us. All the matchmaking was simply to ensure we came from good stock. Murdering out mothers was symbolic, an ending of those that gave us life, a reassurance to himself that he was now our only life-giver. Besides, maternal, feminine instinct is too strong. A woman will fight harder to save someone close to her, especially her family, than most men would ever think to. When they get in the way, it's easier just to kill them than to deal with the headache."

"But why create us at all?"

"You are familiar with ancient history, are you not?"

"Familiar enough."

"Good. In ancient times, when the time came that two opposing forces came to war against each other, there were rules that had to be followed." Eloise paused, then frowned, switching directions. "In ancient warfare, there was a basic military structure. The elements included the Soldier, at the bottom of the ladder, those men who fought hand to hand. Secondly, the Watchman, and he alone could see ahead of the rest of the army, who knew what was coming in advance and was able, therefore, to stop certain courses of action. Thirdly, the Commander, the best, smartest, and most respected general on the field. He held the power to command all the troops. Fourth, the Standard Bearer, he who maintained the ideals that all those under him fought for, and at the top of the ladder, the Monarch, whose importance was monumental, the master of all other positions, the most important player. The war revolved around the Monarch."

"What does this have to do with us?"

Eloise leaned forward, her eyes sparkling chocolate. "There's a storm coming. He's said that to you, I'm sure. He's breeding us, Samuel. Breeding us into his army. Breeding us for specific positions within it. For his war."

Sam's heart pounded in his chest, his mouth dry and his palms damp. "His war for what?"

The windows fluttered back open, the curtains drawing aside as if by their own violation to expose the rich Indiana landscape. "This, Samuel. All of this. He wants our world as his own, our bodies as his own. He's going to open the gates, and we are going to help him do it." Her eyes glinted. "In theory."

"Open the gates?"

"The spirit world exists all around us. We simply can't see it. Those monsters you hunt are those who have mistakenly crossed the boundry between our plane and theirs. But he wants to open a pathway between both worlds, allowing his kind to ravage our civilization. He'll take our bodies for his own. They have corporal form, demons, but they cannot maintain them, and they cannot feel. Not really. They don't know what touch feels like, what affection feels like, and that is why they want us. And that's why as many of the FALLEN have gathered here. We're learning, preparing. We won't go without a fight."

Sam swallowed hard. This was big. Bigger than he'd expected. "Do you know…when this happens?"

Eloise turned her head to the side, looking at him with pity in her eyes. "Now that we've found you?" Her eyes darkened, and Sam felt her mind brush his own. "I am so sorry, Samuel. You aren't ready for this, I know. Your abilities, they're still so green. You can't even control them yet. I have teenagers in this school with powers further along than yours. But it's time you knew." She stopped for a moment, rocking back onto her heels, her hands fumbling with a band around her finger thoughtfully. "You play chess don't you?"

"I learned once."

"In chess, when the king is captured, the game is over and the opposing team has won."

"Right."

"You must capture the king or the game is lost. In fact, the entire objective of the game is to capture the king."

"Yes, but--"

"In war, when the Monarch is captured, the rules are the same." She brushed his mind again, and this time, Sam heard her voice clearly and powerfully in his own head.

::You are the Monarch, Samuel. He is coming for you.::

Thanks for reading! Hoped you enjoyed it!

--Kim Who Knows