SIBLINGS

A HANSEL AND GRETEL QAF FAERIE TALE

CHAPTER 2 THE NEXT DAY

         The next morning was a very rude awakening for Gus and JR. (or Hansel and Gretel, I suppose we must call them from now on)

         It was very early when Craig snuck into the children's bedroom and grabbed Hansel by the scruff on the neck of his nightshirt and dragged him out of the warm bed and down the stairs.

         Hansel tried to fight back but he was hardly awake when it happened and by the time he got his wits fully back to himself, they were halfway down the stairs. Once he did, he fought with everything his little twelve-year-old self could. He kicked. He scratched and tried to punch and bite but it was no use. Craig just laughed and held him at arm's length as he dragged him along.

         Craig dragged him toward the back of the house and into a large, weird kitchen. There was a small sort of door in the wall. Behind this door was a space in the wall about the size for a grown man to lie down in. For Hansel it was big enough to sit it and move around a little but not by much. Craig opened the door to this little room and flung Hansel/Gus inside. He slammed the door shut and locked it.

         Hansel was furious. He shook the door, which had a small barred window on it and yelled, "Lemme outta here you freak! You better leave my sister alone, you nasty perv!" (Growing up with 4 daddies had given him a colorful language. But not from them.)

         Craig just laughed nastily and disappeared back into the rest of the house.

         There was straw on the floor and that small window for air but other than that, there was nothing. There was barely any room to move around. Hansel didn't even want to think about what was supposed to happen if he had to go to the bathroom.

         Meanwhile, Craig went back upstairs and kicked Gretel out of bed.

         "WAKE UP! Get downstairs and sweep the floor! After that we're going to make something nice to eat for your brother, who's going to get nice and fat on it!"

         JR/Gretel just stared at him. She was still half asleep and completely befuddled by the old man's bipolar change in personality.

         "MOVE!! I'm taking your brother his clothes and coming back for you! If you're not dressed by then, I'll drag you downstairs in whatever state you are in and you can do chores whatever you look like. It won't make any difference to me! MOVE!" he screamed again.

         Gretel moved.

         Craig clumped downstairs with Hansel's clothes and shoved them through the barred window. "Dress, or stay in that nightshirt for all I care! Your only meaning in life now is to eat and grow plump and fat for me! And fat you will grow! AHHH HE! HE! HE! HE!!!!" he cackled nastily.

         Hansel took his clothes in a surly manner and demanded, "Where's my sister? What have you done with her?"

         "She's upstairs getting dressed. You're my prisoner. She's my slave. She'll spend her time making the food YOU'LL eat! Or else!"

         At that moment, Gretel came into the kitchen dressed in her old world day clothes.

         "OK, you big meanie! I'm here! Now before I sweep anythin', I wanna know where my brother is!"

         "He's right there!" Craig said, pointing, "But that won't make any difference to you in a few seconds!" He pointed his wooden staff with the red jewel in it at her and intoned, "Elsanachh! Now behave! Be my slave! Elsanachh! Now behave! Be my slave!" The red jewel began to flash.

         "Gretel! Run! Don't worry about me! Just run!"

         But it was too late. Gretel was fixed in place and her eyes were fixed on the jewel. They lost all animation and on the third intonation her arms fell limp to her sides.

         "Now sweep the floor!" Craig snarled.

         "Yes sir," Gretel said in a horrible, flat voice and went to the corner where the broom stood.

         Hansel gave a wordless cry of pure rage and rattled the door or his cage. Craig cackled in evil triumph.

666

         Brian awoke on his back on a too soft mattress and his head kinked and sore and an odd angle. There was a heavy weight on him pressing him deeper into the odd mattress. He opened his eyes and then closed them briefly again. He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned.

         He was on Ben and Michael's couch. The weight on him was Justin. The blond lay on his side, somehow perfectly molding himself against Brian's larger frame. His silky, blond hair feathered out across one large pec and a hand had snaked itself possessively around Brian's neck.

         But that wasn't why Brian had groaned. Justin could drape himself over him on a 24/7 basis if he wanted and Brian would never get tired of it. No, he groaned because it was morning. It was morning and he was in this too quiet house, in this too quiet world and the kids were still missing and not making the noise.

         Brian poked Justin and Justin awoke. Slowly, he came to the realization that Brian did. Some of the light went out of his blue, blue eyes. Brian kissed his nose. Even at 30, Justin was incredibly youthful and somehow, Brian could never picture him past 21 anyway.

         "We'll find them, Sunshine. I promise, somehow we'll get them back."

         Justin just nodded miserably and got up. He made coffee while Brian stretched his kinks out. Even though he still worked out tirelessly and was in very good shape, he could feel that it was having less and less effect on him as he entered his 40's.

         "Gotta watch those carbs..." he mumbled, as he stretched out a particularly painful kink and heard an alarmingly loud ‘click' as something snapped back into place.

         Justin heard him and rolled his eyes.

         "What's the plan, Carb Queen?" he asked.

         "Two of us should go to the police. The other two, I guess should continue going door to door. Maybe someone's found them. Maybe they got a bed for the night. Maybe somebody saw them. Maybe...maybe they...."

         And then Justin was there filling up his too empty arms in a now too empty world. "Shhh, Brian. It's OK. Everything will be OK."

         Justin made breakfast along with the coffee and soon the morning smells brought forth Ben and Michael.

         As expected, Michael was surly and as bitter as the coffee about being drugged but you could tell Ben had placed him under a strict gag order. He had been ordered not to talk about the children unless it was in a constructive way. Since he was so sick with worry, he didn't really know how to do this, so he rarely spoke.

         "I take it this hasn't been poisoned as well," he snarked, taking a mug of coffee.

         "Yes your welcome, Michael," Justin replied. Michael ignored him.

         Ben covered for Michael's bad manners by asking what they were going to do. Justin outlined the plan for today. He and Brian would go to the police and Ben and Michael could go door to door and keep asking about the kids armed with pictures of them.

         "Oh!" Justin had a thought. "Are there any wells or cisterns or anything like that in the neighborhood. Caves? Anywhere they could have fallen in or gotten lost?"

         "No, thank God!" Ben replied." And no caves. A few wooded areas but nothing they could get lost in. We're in a pretty large suburban area. That's what makes all of this so mysterious. There's nowhere they could have gone except a house. And if they did, why didn't that person call...unless..."

         Nobody finished the obvious thought.

         They finished off their breakfast quickly. Michael did the dishes as he felt he needed to do something with his hands and couldn't think of anything good to say. He kept his mind focused on his task and a picture of his baby in his head but unnoticed by everyone an eye had begun to twitch. A terrible rage began to build within him. He was inordinately glad when Brian and Justin finally left.

At the local police station...

         Going to the police station turned out to be a huge waste of time.

         The sergeant at the front desk took one look at them and waved them over to a waiting area. They waited there for over an hour with Brian coming back every fifteen minutes ranting about how this was not a lost football, these were children for chrissakes! And could they PLEASE talk to an officer.

         Finally, another officer heard him and yelled over, "Oh for God's sake, Steve, stop being an asshole and let them through! You know there‘s no reason to make them wait!"

         Brian's face grew red and murderous.

         "Oh, fine! Ruin my fun! Fine! You take care of these queers then!"

         "You - homophobic - prick!" Brian ground out, leaning in close. "I am taking note of the time. If I find out one of my children was murdered or hurt in any way in the hour that you kept us needlessly waiting, I will hunt you down, whatever the cost, however long it takes, and this queer will make you pay!"

         "Are you threatening a police officer?" blustered Steve imperiously.

         Quick as a light switch, Brian straightened up and switched to a normal voice, "Of course not officer. That would be wrong." He walked on by. Justin followed. "Just like obstructing justice," he threw back as a parting shot.

         The officer who saw them was Constable Frank. However, it turned out he was no better help. It turned out there was nothing they could do for 48 hours. Not to mention there were questions like : "Are you sure they didn't run away?" and: "Is there a history of abuse in your family?" Is there any reason your children might have wanted to get away from any unhealthy practices in your home?"

         Brian grew angrier and angrier and his face grew redder and redder and soon Justin knew he had to get Brian out of there. NOW, or they would both land behind bars.

         "I can assure you, officer, we have an extremely loving home life," he kept assuring the policeman, "In fact we've invested a lot of time in making that a reality."

         "Then why do you think they ran away?" asked the police officer stupidly, trying to trip them up. Justin swore he saw steam come out of Brian's ears. He dropped his forehead into his hands. Here it came.

         "Now you listen to me, you pencil pushing, doughnut munching, coffee swilling, bastard of a pig of a cop! You think just because we are two fathers, we are abusing child molesters!? Well, let me tell you something! There IS a history of abuse in my family! I was abused by my parents who were the WASP-y-ist, churchgoing-ist, straightest, people on my block! And I made it my goal in life to be as UN-like them as humanly possible! Which means I might be gay but I have made it my aim to be the most loving and non-abusive father I know how to be. I love my Sonny-boy and my Sonny-boy loves me! He would NOT have run away! Now in the name of YOUR FUCKING GOD...get off your ass and find our children!"

         Officer Frank was red-faced and furious as well. "I'm sorry sir! There's nothing we can do," he said in this tight-assed, butt-plugged, tone of voice, "Your children aren't missing unless they've been gone for at least 48 hours. You'll have to come back tomorrow."

         Brian was incoherent with rage. Justin took this opportunity to grab Brian's arm and somehow, with superhuman strength, to pull him from his seat and slowly drag him toward the exit.

         "That's just what we'll do. We'll be back tomorrow. Count on it, Officer Frank, badge #686761," Justin said meaningfully.

         He continued to drag Brian away who was now ranting indiscriminately. "You - you homophobic pricks! Homophobic BASTARD pigs! Bastards!"

         "Get him outta NOW, before I put you both in cuffs!"

         Desperately, Justin pulled, pulled, pulled and somehow he got Brian out of there.

         "BASTARDS!" Brian yelled once more before the front door closed. Then they were outside and they were alone on a crowded street, pressed up against the cold brick side of the police station away from the door. Brian still heaved a snorted, breathing like a Brahma bull. Justin pressed up against him, leaning his head against a strong pec, feeling the huge breaths get slower and softer as he acted as a grounding device to Brian's rage.

         "There you go. Calm and slow. There we go. I love you. I love you my darling. Everything's all right." Justin continued soothing patter until he felt Brian's arms go around him too.

         "Those bastards! How could they accuse...How dare...I'll sue...Oh, my God, what are Gus and JR supposed to do for another day if they're lost! They'll be so cold!"

         "They'll be all right!" Justin said soothingly.

         "You don't know that! They'll be cold! They'll be hungry!" Brian started to shake Justin. "It's too cold! They'll be cold! They'll get hungry!" he repeated. "And what if they're kidnapped! What if someone has my son?! What if someone has our babies?!"

         Suddenly Brian realized what he was doing and stopped shaking Justin like a rag doll. Instead, Justin found himself crushed inside a huge overpowering bear hug. They clung to each other and suddenly they're lips were mashed together in a hot and hungry way, magnetized together, fused. The kiss was passion and panic. It was doom and destiny.

         As Justin continued to hold him, Brian's shoulders began to shake. But strangely, his eyes were dry.

         "Oh Justin!" he gasped, "Where's my little boy? Where the hell is my little boy!?"

666

         Brian's little boy (going by the alias of Hansel at the moment) was currently in solitary confinement in a literal hole in the wall. He watched in horror as Craig wielded some sort of mind control over his sister and made her do all sorts of chores as Craig cooked up as storm.

         JR(Gretel) swept the floor, washed the dishes, mopped the floor, fetched water, peeled potatoes, carrots, and apples, cut onions, cracked eggs and shelled nuts.  On and on it went and she ignored Hansel completely, as if he wasn't even there, even though Hansel tried many times to snap her out of it. But it was no use.

         Craig turned out to be an evil warlock, who liked nothing better than to cook up and devour little children, hence the strange, magical gingerbread house. It turned out Halloween was his favorite time of year as his powers became strongest to pull in a few rosy cheeked children, always who were a couple or a group of siblings.

         The kitchen where they were now prisoners was strange and medieval. The floor was cobblestoned and the middle was taken up with a large island type countertop. It was on this counter that Craig made the roast chicken with stuffing and pumpkin pie and apple pie and cookies. Set in the wall was a huge kiln type oven that was heated by actual fire. Along the wall there was a shelf with spices but below that another shelf with strange powders and potions that were steeped in magic. The whole place smelled of cinnamon and sugar but underneath that there was another smell, a dead, rotten smell, as if a rat had died in the walls and had been left there. There was a door to the back yard, a door to the front room and a third door that Craig went into at night. Hansel presumed it was his bedroom.

         Eventually, the roast chicken dinner was ready. Craig shoved in plate after plate of chicken, roast vegetables and stuffing and drenched everything in gravy. Then he'd watch to make sure Hansel ate every bite and gave him all the bones back. Then he passed in the pumpkin pie and forced him to eat the entire thing.

         "Enough!" I can't take anymore in!" gasped Hansel finally. "Let me at least digest all this until tonight! If I eat anymore, I'll puke!"

         "Well..." Craig pretended to consider it. "I guess it won't do to have all my hard work undone. OK that's enough for now!"

         And how about some water to wash all this down!?" Hansel demanded.

         "Excuse ME?!" the  warlock demanded.
         Hansel rolled his eyes. "Pleeease," he amended.

         "That's better," said Craig, "Little boys mustn't forget their manners."

         Hansel ignored him.

         Craig went to the sink and filled a large glass of water. As his back was turned, Hansel took a bone from his last plate and hid it under the straw. If this ass thought he was going to fatten him up he had another thing coming. He already had a plan but he had to reach his sister. He was going to need her help.

         "What about Gretel?" he asked Craig, "She's worked her tail off and you've given her nothing! She'll collapse soon! What are you going to give her to eat?"

         Craig glided across the room as if with one step with his water. His once kindly face was cold and cruel as he smiled a horrible smile that was all fangs in the firelight. His breath was disgusting enough to rot fresh fruit. "Maybe I'll feed her some nice flies!"

         "Flies? What are you talking about?"

         "When I turn her into a TOAD!" Craig cackled horribly. Then he turned serious again. If you want her to eat, then YOU'LL EAT!!" he roared.

         "But I ate all I could," Hansel whined, "You've got to give her something!"

         Hansel was again propelled into murderous rage a short time later. He again shrieked in impotent fury and rattled the bars of his little door. Craig indeed gave Gretel something to eat but even so it wasn't a lot. In her tranced state she was helpless to resist. He fed her raw eggs and a disgusting soup made from the chicken bones Hansel had just finished with and all the peelings and cast offs from the vegetables.

         It was then that Gus/Hansel figured that he could use some real help.

666

         In a remote section of a dark forest in the dead of night, two men locked themselves away in their cheap, Bates-esque motel room. They poured a line of salt on the windowsills and in front of the door and chanted certain incantations before they felt safe. The deadbolt meant nothing to them. They knew there were far worse things in this world and the next than mere mortal intruders. And most of them were on their tail.

         The two men were brothers.  They had driven all night as much as they could, as if the hounds of hell were after them. Maybe a few were. A chill ran down their spines as they had driven past a sign written in medieval font:

         WELCOME TO PENNSYLVANIA

         Even though they knew better, it made them think of vampires and blood and werewolves and other things that went bump in the night. Especially since this was the night after Halloween night and the full moon rode over the spooky forested highway. They wished they could just drive all the way through, all night.

          But they knew they needed to rest and regroup. One man set up a laptop and found the motel's remote linkup to the Internet. It wasn't the best but it was better than nothing. He began to check their e-mails and the usual news sites and then the more weird ones run by paranormal fans and nut jobs. The other man flopped down on one of the beds. He zipped open a duffel bag and began to polish the guns.

         "Anything?" asked the man on the bed curtly.

         "Nothing yet.  An E-mail from Bobby. Wants us to check in so he knows our throats haven't been slashed." The other man said, tapping out a terse reply and hitting send.

         "Hmm. Not yet anyway," said the man on the bed gruffly. He put the gun down beside him on the bed and picked up a Bowie knife.

         "Hey, we got away from that troll free and clear," said his brother defensively.

         "Only because the sun rose and turned him to stone. Why didn't the water affect him anyway?"

         I dunno. It should have. My supplier told me it was holy water. But it only made him mad. It must have only been holier than thou water. That won't do anything to anything."

         "Dammit!" the young man swore casually. He picked up a rifle. "How much of our supplies are affected?"

         "All of them of course. We'll have to find a church soon."

         "Sonofabitch!" the polisher said casually...and grumpily again. "Dammit, Sammy, how could you let this happen!?"

         "Hey, I can't help it if someone lies to me! Don't blame me! All we can do is pick up and move on."

         As Sam continued to peruse the websites, he heard his brother pick up another weapon and continue to mutter grumpily with an occasional ‘Sonofabitch' thrown in. "Poor Dean," thought Sam with an internal chuckle, "He's never happy unless he's grumpy."

         Then his sharp eye picked something out. He sat up straight and tapped a few keys and guided the finger pad to enhance.

         Dean read his brother's body language with lightning reflexes. "What is it, Sammy?" He was over to the desk in a single move.

         "What it always is, Dean. A fat load of trouble," replied Sam.