Chapter 8

"What about her?" the demon named Crowley said, nodding his head toward Tin-Tin. "A little goodwill gesture, sweeten the pot?"

"No!" Gaat's voice was exasperated. They'd been arguing for fifteen minutes, and Scott got the distinct impression that Crowley was enjoying himself.

The demon shrugged. "Well, I can see your point. She's pretty hot, as Dean over there would say."

"She is my niece!"

"Ah!" Crowley tilted his head to one side, raised one eyebrow. "Is the rest of your family this dysfunctional?"

Gaat roared in frustration. Crowley just winked.

"He has that effect on people," Sam said as they watched, shaking his head.

"Seriously, folks," Dean said, "this is normal. One of Crowley's nicknames is "The Salesman." He can keep this up all night."

Scott scrubbed at his temples with his fingertips. He wondered if he was going out of his mind. "We have got to get Virgil out of here," he said. "He…" The words had sharp edges, it was difficult to get them out. "He doesn't have long."

He could feel Alan's gaze on him. But he couldn't look up, couldn't deal with one more person's pain right now, even his brother's.

"Like I said, Crowley can keep this up all night. Which gives us time to come up with a game plan," Dean said.

Scott glanced at him, trying to keep the frustration tamped down. "I've been trying to do that since we got here. All the scenarios I come up with go down in flames in the same place. We have wounded. With a sufficient diversion, I could get to my ship, but I can't move fast enough if I try to take Virgil with me. And if I leave him behind, he's a hostage. And I don't know what Gaat is capable of, let alone his crew over there."

"We could take the demons," Dean said. "Between us we have the firepower, and Sam and I have beaten worse odds than this. But you're right, Yul Brynner over there is a wild card."

"And in any case, we can't get out of the hangar," Alan reminded them.

Sam chewed on his lip. "Sometimes when you kill the spell-caster, it kills the spell as well."

"What's the catch?" Alan asked.

"Sometimes it doesn't."

"There has to be a way," Scott said, stubbornly. "There's nothing alive that doesn't have a weakness."

Sam was watching Gaat. "If only I had some way to do the research. I know I could figure out something." He fished what Scott figured must be a cellphone out of his pocket, although it looked thick and bulky to his eyes. "What I thought, no signal. Too far from our own time period."

Alan frowned. "Wait… You're saying you can get a cellphone signal even if you're out of the timestream?"

"Not with this much of a gap," Sam said.

"No, no…I mean, you're saying it's possible? You're saying it's possible to call someone?" Alan stared at Scott, a wild look in his eyes. He fished in his pocket and came up with his cell.

"Not call, text," Dean said. "It works quite a lot of the time. Well…nearly half the time, anyway. It all depends on whether he's moved you to the future or the past…and how much he's moved you."

"Voices are almost impossible to transmit clearly," Sam added. "But texting usually works."

"Gordon!" Scott hardly dared hope.

Alan took a deep breath and looked down at his phone. He let out a gasping laugh. "Four bars!"

Dean let out his breath. Scott turned his body so he was blocking Gaat from seeing what he was doing, if he even looked in their direction. He slid his own cell out of his pocket and stared at the reassuring green of the signal indicator.

Then he selected Gordon's number, and started praying. Gordo. Can you see this?

There was a moment of such tension that Scott thought his heart couldn't take it. Then a miracle happened. The incoming text tone sounded.

Scott hastily shut off the ringer. He sneaked a glance at Gaat and Crowley but they were still arguing back and forth, oblivious, and the demons were watching them like they were children at the circus.

Scott! Where are you? Are you all right?

"Well, how do you like that?" Scott murmured. "All this time and we could have just sent a text!" He allowed a small spark of hope to grow inside him. Maybe they would get out of this after all.

"Don't feel bad," Dean said. "It wouldn't have done you any good."

Scott frowned at him. We're in the hangar, he texted back to Gordon. We have to get out of here fast. Virgil's been shot and he needs a hospital.

Uh, there's a problem with getting you out. We can't see you!

"He can't see us," Scott said. "Damn."

"That's what I'm saying," Dean said spreading his hands.

What do you mean? Scott answered Gordon.

We can't see the hangar. Kyrano said it's still there but it's invisible.

Scott felt hysterical laughter bubbling up inside him as he suddenly imagined their father trying to wrap his mind around this situation. He stamped on it, got a hold of himself.

Sam reached over and took the phone from him. "Where is this guy?"

"He's right outside," Scott said. "In another one of our ships."

Sam nodded. Scott watched as he typed. Gordon, my name is Sam Winchester. I'm trapped in here with Scott. Listen very carefully. I need you to find me and my brother, Dean. We'll know what to do.

Come again?

Sam smiled, and began to type as fast as he could.

John Tracy was no stranger to finding things and people, and quickly, but locating the Winchester brothers turned out to be a serious test of his skills. He went through all five of the contact names Sam had given to Gordon with no luck – the first three were dead and the fourth and fifth had either disappeared or were on the road somewhere, to parts unknown. Very little trace of any of them could be found in the usual areas...government and city records, credit cards, utilities. He got the impression that flying under the radar was not only common in their profession but vital to their survival. Lead after lead looked promising at first but led nowhere except a maze of voicemails.

"Dad, I'm sorry, but this is taking a lot longer than I thought. These hunters seem to move around quite a bit and leave no forwarding information, which I guess makes sense given what they do. I've gone back to their family, done some research on their known associates in Lawrence…seems Sam and Dean's mother, Mary Winchester died in 1983 in a fire, and after that their father John and the kids left town."

As he spoke, Ruth Tracy was entering the room with two mugs of coffee for herself and Jeff. She put one of them on her son's desk. "Mary Winchester? Was she Mary Campbell before she was married?"

John frowned, glanced down at something they couldn't see. His eyebrows went up. "Yes, she was, Grandma. How did you know that?"

"One of the Campbell clan married my cousin Angus. I remember meeting Mary when I went with him and his wife to a family reunion. Pretty girl, blonde. She was engaged to a real handsome young man, if I remember. That was probably the John you talked about." She shook her head. "Terrible thing, that fire. Her children were so young!"

Jeff leaned forward. "Mother, finding Sam and Dean Winchester might be the only way to get our boys and Tin-Tin back," he said.

"Let me make some calls."