2.
Krissy was doing the dishes when someone knocked on the door.
"One moment!" she called, running the plate under the faucet one last time. At least spaghetti sauce was easy to rinse off.
She switched off the sink and went to the door, wiping her hands on her jeans. It wouldn't be Elaine, not so early, and she had a key anyway. Solicitors didn't usually come up as far as apartments. Maybe Gabe's friend from a few floors up, that kid Martha? But it was pretty close to bedtime for that.
She looked through the peephole, just in case, one hand reflexively checking the flat knife sheath up her left sleeve. Krissy Chandler wasn't one to be caught by surprise, and this was New York City.
It wasn't that much of a stretch of imagination to see the man as a psychopath, or possibly a homeless person. He looked about fifty, hair just starting to go gray. Jeans, jacket, and wrinkled plaid shirt were all worn and torn, and none looked like it'd been washed for at least a week. Nor did he. There were faint bags under his eyes, and a healthily developing bruise stretched across one cheek.
"Dad!" she squealed, opening the door and flinging her arms around Lee Chandler's neck.
He gave her a perfunctory hug. "Hey."
Krissy pulled back, eyeing him with concern. "What's wrong? Are you hurt? You were on some vamps, right? Did they––" She cut herself off, glancing back inside the apartment. She could hear the jingle of cartoons––good, Gabe was still occupied, for now.
"Come in," she urged, closing the door behind him to cut off protest. "Sit down." She pointed to the small sofa. "Elaine won't be off her shift for another few hours, so it's just me and Gabe right now. We can talk."
Before her dad could open his mouth, a demanding six-year-old voice sounded from the kitchen. "Krissy, can I have some more dessert now?" A squeak of cabinet doors and rustling of wrappers suggested the request was superficial at best.
"Speak of the devil," she joked.
Her dad gave a flickering grin. "Cute kid," he commented.
"He's not that bad," she assured him. "Just a bit fond of candy."
She nipped into the kitchen and neatly snatched a lollipop from Gabriel's hand before it could reach his mouth. "No more," she said in her best Adult Voice. "Why don't you meet my daddy instead? He came over for a visit."
He sighed despondently as she lifted him off the counter. "Just a little bit more lolly?"
"No." She carried him back to the living room and set him on the floor. "See, this is my dad, Lee. He raised me just like your mom raises you."
"Nice to meet you," said Lee, crouching to shake hands. "Krissy's told me about you. I hear you like chocolate?"
Gabriel's eyes widened in shock as he stared at Krissy's dad, and his mouth dropped open. He screamed, high, with what she recognized (after nearly a year of false alarms and potty-themed practical jokes) as genuine terror, and quickly ran around to hide behind her legs.
"Gabe, what's wrong?" She dropped to her knees to give him a hug, and he buried his face in her shoulder already starting to sob.
"Shh, shh, it's okay," she said, stroking his hair. She glanced up at her dad, who was watching them with an expression of alarm. "I don't know what's got into him. He's not usually shy with strangers. The opposite, really."
"Maybe I should just step outside for a minute," he suggested.
"That might work," she agreed gratefully. "I'll put him to bed. I'm sorry––"
"That's fine." He let himself back out, not quite closing the door behind. That was so typical, that he wanted to be able to rush back in and help.
Krissy stood, hoisting Gabriel up on one hip. His sobbing was already fading away. "C'mon, buddy," she said gently. "You've had a long day, I bet. Time for bed."
The bedtime ritual was a familiar one––Krissy had been babysitting Gabe on Elaine's night shifts at the hospital since early freshman year. Krissy had been volunteering at the hospital, checking out NYU's Pre-Med options, and she'd overheard Elaine complaining to one of the other nurses about childcare. Krissy needed a job; Elaine needed a babysitter from five to midnight, Tuesdays and Fridays. It cut down on social things, but she'd never given much thought to dates, and there was always Saturday. And Gabe was a pretty great kid, sweet tooth and mischievous streak wider than the Hudson River aside.
Tonight, he let her pajamafy and toothbrush him without protest, a warning sign if she'd ever seen one. They had a song instead of a story, because it was Tuesday.
"Sweet dreams," she said, tucking the covers under his chin. His eyes were already just slivers of green visible under the closing eyelids.
A small hand reached out and grabbed her wrist. "Krissy."
"Yes?"
Gabriel pushed himself up on one elbow, dislodging the blanket. "I didn't cry because I'm scared. I was surprised. He looks funny."
Krissy smiled. "I suppose he does," she admitted, thinking over the ripped clothing and spectacular bruise. "He has an exciting job."
"No," said Gabe, shaking his head seriously. "Not funny-silly. Funny-bad. His face is wrong."
"Now you're being silly," she said firmly, pushing him down to the pillow. "He's just my dad." She flipped off the lamp, leaving only the glowing numbers on the bedside clock, and walked to the door. "Nite nite!"
"Sleep tight," he replied obediently.
"And don't let the bedbugs bite."
Her dad was waiting on the couch again when she came back out.
"Sorry about that," she repeated, taking a seat next to him. "I don't know what's got into him."
"Kids. What are you supposed to do."
Krissy looked at him sidelong. "Tell them you're a traveling salesman and leave them alone for long periods of time?"
He coughed uncomfortably. "Listen, Krissy, I was wondering..."
"Yeah?"
"Remember those two boys who helped us out a couple years ago? With the vetalas?"
"I'd say I helped you all out," she corrected. It was still one of her better moments, viewed mostly with the terror-erasing effects of memory. "The Winchesters, yeah?"
"Have you heard from them?" he asked intently. "Any idea where they are?"
"Someone at the Old Haint said they were up in Boise, taking down a nest of werewolves. But that was like three months ago." Krissy paused, voice sharpening. "Why'd you ask? Sam'n'Dean deal with big stuff, you know that. You said you weren't going to be doing anything risky since I'm going to NYU. We made a deal."
He shrugged. "You know I mostly said that to get you out of my hair."
"What?" She leaned back in surprise.
He grinned, but the glint of humor in his eyes was far crueler than usual. "You had one good attack, once, with the Winchesters, then you chickened out and went to college! Whatever happened to saving people, avenging your family?"
"What the hell, Dad!"
"Exactly." His hand gripped her wrist like iron, holding her on the sofa and keeping her from grabbing her blade. His eyes were solid black.
"I don't want to hurt you," the demon said quickly. "Well, I do, but I'm busy. I mostly just want to know where the Winchesters are."
"Why?" she said boldly. Oh God (if there was one, if he was listening,) Gabe was asleep not ten yards away...
The demon's eyes followed hers as they flickered toward the boy's bedroom. It grinned. "I have a score to settle. Play nice and I'll let the kid live, too." It squeezed her wrist so tightly she swore the bones shifted. It hurt. "You're absolutely certain they're in Boise?"
"They were," she panted. "Now get the hell out of my dad."
Krissy brought up a leg, trickier than she would've thought from a sitting position, and kicked him hard in the knee. Iron-tipped boots. He jerked satisfyingly and let her go long enough to spring up and across the room, and settle into a defensive stance. And start reciting an exorcism.
"Now you've just made it interesting," the demon interrupted the flow of the chant. It mirrored her motions, drawing a gun in place of her iron knife––her dad's favorite pistol.
Krissy lunged as she ducked sideways. It was a small living room, really nothing more than a sofa and some wallpaper, and she could reach the demon in a single step.
Not-her-dad knocked the blade out of her hand and shoved her across the room with more force than could logically come from a single human body. She landed halfway through the kitchen doorway, and began scooting furiously backwards––towards the knife drawer. At least one of them had to be iron.
The demon stood in the doorway, holding both her knife and the gun. "I'm a little bit irritated, now!" it called out.
"Krissy, catch!"
Krissy's head jerked up and around as she stood, just in time to grab the salt container out of the air. Gabriel was standing on the kitchen table in front of the open cabinet, from which he'd presumably just taken the purifying condiment. For a moment, the overhead light was positioned just behind his head, lighting his curly brown hair like a halo.
"Duck!" he called, scrambling down to hide under the table.
She ducked and lunged again, and this time her projectile hit the demon square on: half a cup of Safeway-brand generic salt, right in the face. It yelped, skin steaming, and she followed it with another hail of salt crystals and a full exorcism.
It was one of her better moments.
Her dad was still unconscious when Elaine got home, around midnight as usual. At least Gabe was down, too, with natural causes.
"Krissy?" Elaine called softly, though Gabriel slept like a rock. "Why is there a man asleep on my sofa?"
Krissy grabbed up her homework and came into the living room. "He's my dad," she explained. "He just got in from the airport, from California, and he was pretty jet-lagged, so I let him zonk out on the sofa. Is that okay?"
Elaine considered the slumbering form. It was fairly raggedy, but then, Krissy had described her father before. Who knew what sort of hours traveling salesmen kept? "I suppose," she said slowly, shrugging off her coat.
"We'll go now," Krissy assured her. She bent down and shook her dad gently. He woke up this time, thank goodness.
"Whah–" he muttered thickly, squinting at the light. "Krissy? Why-– Where––"
"C'mon, Dad." She pulled him to his feet. "You know, if you'd work less hard, you might get less jet-lag."
He blinked at her confusedly, then went with it. "Sorry, honey. It was a long flight." He rolled his shoulders and turned to Elaine, extending a polite hand. "Thank you for the use of your sofa, Mrs..."
"Greene," she filled in helpfully.
"Of course. Krissy's told me all about you and Gabriel. She really likes this job." He hugged her close, and despite her usual objections to such affectionate behavior, Krissy didn't protest.
"We really like her," Elaine replied easily. She was still in her scrubs. "She and Gabe get along fantastically."
Krissy smiled. "He's a really interesting kid." She gave the apartment a covert once-over––everything looked clean. No evidence of anything...unusual. "I keep being surprised by the things he does." Now to leave before Elaine realized her "jet-lagged" father didn't have a suitcase...
Her dad picked up on her silent cues. "We'd best be going, then. It was very nice to meet you."
Elaine nodded. "The same. I hope you enjoy your stay in New York."
"Thank you," he said as Krissy steered him towards the door. Did parents never stop talking? Even when she was in college?
They went halfway down the block before her dad stopped and turned around. "It was very nice to meet Elaine, Krissy," he started, "I meant to meet her the next time I came to visit you. But last I remember, I was in southern Ohio. So could you please explain what the hell I'm doing in New York City?"
Krissy grimaced. "Exactly."