SIBLINGS

A HANSEL AND GRETEL QAF FAERIE TALE

CHAPTER 5

ASLEEP OR AWAKE?

A week later...

     “Well this won’t do! This won’t do at all!” Craig said. “You...just seem to be growing more and more sinew and tough hard muscle.” His hands roamed over Dean’s 8 pack abs and huge biceps.

     “Enjoying the freeshow?” Dean growled, flexing one said bicep under Craig’s fingers. Craig snatched his hands away.

     “And you... you aren’t growing at all! I just don’t understand this at all! What is going on here?”

     Hansel and Dean smirked and smothered their laughter from their respective prisons.

A week ago...Nov 2...evening...

     It was late. Two corners of the kitchen were now occupied by two hard working and weary souls. A third held Dean held in place by his chain and collar. He sat cross-legged, meditating, digesting, trying not to puke, literally, and with rage.

     Both he and Hansel had spent the entire evening, literally hours and hours eating. At first, he had refused, but then that asshole Craig had called in his brother who was chopping wood and stood there behind him, holding a knife and stroking Sam`s white throat lovingly. Dean hated the way Sam just stood there with a dopey, blank look on his face and just let him. Just LET him! GRRRR!!! That warlock was gonna pay! But he had to get Sam loose of the bastard`s clutches before then, so Dean had dug in.

     Finally, it was late, Craig had gone to bed, and Dean sat plotting to escape. He sensed rather than heard movement from the cell that held his fellow inmate.

     “Hey, little dude! How’re you doing in there?” D’uh! Stupid question!

     “Fine, just fine!” came the short and rather breathy reply, “How’s the collar?”

     “Point taken,” said Dean shortly. “Say, what are you doing in there?”

     “Bicyclin,” came the reply, “And if you’re smart, you’d do the same.” Suddenly, his little face pressed itself up against his little window. “What? You didn’t really think I’d let that ass fatten me up did you? That’s why I had Gretel break out his seeing glass today. Now that he can’t see as well I can do this during the day when he s not paying attention to me as well.”

     “I thought she was just making a break for it,” Dean said.

     “Let’s hope that’s just what HE thought as well,” said Hansel.

     “Hey! She wasn’t under his mind control then! That means there is a way to break them out of it!”

     “Yes. But not now. There’s no point in waking her…them…up now and the less of this she has to remember later. Poor girl…She’s only seven!”

     “Whereas you’re a whole…”

     “Twelve years old!” Gus/Hansel boasted proudly. Seeing Dean’s patronizing smile, he said, “All right, I may be young, but at least I have a plan!”

     “And what’s that?”

     “Surely, you must know where we are!” Dean did, but he said nothing. He didn’t want to deprive the little dude of his triumph.

     Hansel huffed in frustration, “Gingerbread house! Older brother in cage! Younger sister put to work. Evil witch! Well, warlock,” he amended, “I don’t know how but we’re in the story of Hansel and Gretel. Only it’s real!”

     “You’re a smart little dude,” Dean said, “So what do we do about it?”

     “We have to follow the story. Stay thin and aware. And when the time is right, do what Hansel and Gretel did and shove him in the oven!”

     “Sorry little dude, but the whole reason we’re here, is because Hansel and Gretel never killed the witch. The Grimms just made that part up. I figure they just knocked her out and ran for it. They are the only ones who’ve ever escaped.”

     “How do you know this?” Hansel asked. Dean told him who he was and what he did, along with his brother.

     For a long time, Hansel sat there, digesting this new information, kicking himself for being a sucker to the fake ending, mourning the loss of countless children.

     “Well then,” he said at last, “Where they failed, WE must succeed!”

666

     And so, all through that week, Dean and Gus would exercise whenever the warlock’s back was turned. Sometimes they would bait the warlock, attracting his attention while the other one did a frantic set of jumping jacks, or push ups, or bicycling. They would do leg lifts and lunges and twists and reverse sit ups and many other isometric exercises that Dean could think up.

     “Why are you a warlock this time?” asked Dean once, giving Gus a chance to do some bicycle pumping.

     “I just automatically take on the form of the relative who hates the family of the children I capture the most. Since it’s usually a mother in law, or great grandmother or whatnot, it’s usually a woman. And since the children have never seen that relation and I age my form greatly, they never recognize me. I’m quite surprised to find myself a man this time actually.”

     “You must be my grandfather then. My daddies say he`s a homogenized baguette,” Gus volunteered.

     “I think you must mean a homophobic bigot,” Dean said, “And it wouldn’t surprise me in the least!” he finished viciously to the warlock.

     The two men stared daggers at each other.

      And of course they did at least 5 sets of all the exercises they could think of before catching a little shut eye. And they watched. And waited.

     As much as they hated watching Craig order about and slave around their siblings, Gus and Dean left them in their mind controlled state. Gus wanted to spare JR as much trauma as possible and besides, trying to constantly pretend they were hypnotized and servants to boot would have been too much of a strain.

     Following the story, every day, Craig would go over to Gus’ cage and tell him to stick out his finger. Gus would take the chicken leg bone he had saved that first day and poke it out of the cage door. Then he’d go over and check Dean. Since Dean had a wider range of motion than Gus and a manly supply of testosterone, he was putting on muscle quickly. Fat did not enter the equation at all. Both Dean and Gus became overwhelmed with silent hysterics at Craig’s growing consternation and frustration.

     At last Craig grew desperate.” Well, fat or no fat, I can’t wait any longer. I must feed. Tomorrow is roasting day for sure!”

     And with that, he flounced out of the room.

666

     An hour later, after their many exercises were done, and they were sure that the warlock was fast asleep, Dean whispered, “OK Hansel, how do we wake up the sibs?”

     Even though by this time, Dean knew the kids’ real names, He had honored Gus’ wish to be called Hansel especially around the warlock so the psycho wouldn’t know his real identity. And now he was just used to it.

     Hansel whispered, “Follow my lead,” and then whispered in Craig’s voice,” GIRL! GIRL! Wake up! Wake up! I need you!”

     Gretel sat up. “Yes sir,” she said.

     “Cool,” Dean whispered. Then he rasped, “SAM! SAMMY! Wake up boy! I need you!”

     “Yes sir,” Sam said dully, sitting up.

     “Bring me a glass of water, girl,” rasped Hansel.

     “Sam, your brother needs a drink. Bring him some water,” rasped Dean.

     “Yes sir,” they both said, and rose to comply.

     Both prisoners waited tensely as their counterparts woodenly…and slowly…got them their water and shuffled over.

     Hansel quickly took the water from Gretel and grabbed her hand again. “Grab him quick!” he told Dean hurriedly. Dean grabbed Sam by the shoulder and held on. Sam began to struggle but was held in place by the beefier brother.

     “Now give him a pinch! A good one and he’ll wake up!” Hansel cried, demonstrating. Gretel again cried out and woke up.

     “Oh, I’ve got something a little more in mind than a pinch! I owe you something, Sammy and it’s payback time!” Dean growled. He pulled his brother into a fraternal embrace and kneed him hard in the balls.

     Sam crumpled to the floor. He groaned and squeaked out, “Dean, what the Hell!?”

     Dean felt a stab of guilt. It wasn’t Sammy’s fault he’d kicked him in the balls earlier. He’d been controlled and not in his right mind.

     Then he shoved it away quickly. Fact was, he had been…well, kicked…and someone had to pay. Plus, he needed Sammy with it right now and time was of the essence.

     “Look, sorry,” he said shortly, “Come on, Sammy, shake it off! Shake it off and wake up! Things are getting serious and we need your help now! Wake up, DAMMIT!”

     “I’m awake! I’m awake! I’m awake, and been kicked in the nads! Gimme a minute…or sixty…” He groaned in pain. He rolled over and looked up. His eyes widened. “Geez! Dean! Is that a collar?”

     “Yeah, it’s a collar! And a chain!” he said, indicating it. “Now get it off, will you?”

     Sam rose to his knees with difficulty. He reached out and tried to grab the padlock locking on the collar. A strange electrical energy zapped out and shocked Sam as he got within an inch of it. He could not touch it.

     “OOOOWWWW!!! Sorry, Dean! It’s protected somehow. I can’t take it off. Looks like you’re stuck here a little longer. Say, where is here, anyway? And what happened to you?” he asked, his eyes wide again.

     Dean grew annoyed. He knew he must look a sight. He had been allowed to crap and been hosed off a few times but he’d been given no other clothes and since he’d grown significantly, his muscles had ripped out his shirt in his arms around his biceps in a few places and his shirt wouldn’t button up at the chest anymore. “Never mind that, willya? Listen up and keep your mouth shut. The witch from Hansel and Gretel. It’s here. The kids we were sent to find. They’re over there. But we’re trapped. The witch captured us shortly after we…”

     As Dean outlined more and more of the situation, Sam grew more and more wide-eyed. A week gone. Mind control. Hard labor. It was almost too much to bear.

     By the time Dean had finished outlining the situation, the four of them were sitting as close together as they could. They were two families but they were united in their two goals: To get theHELL out of there and kill the warlock!

     “I have a plan,” Hansel said, “But it can’t work without your help! This is what I want you to do…

     Suddenly there was a noise and a shuffling from the other room. All four froze. Four pairs of eyes swung around to look at the closed door, willing it to stay shut…

666

The next morning…

     The warlock kicked Gretel awake.

     “Get up! Fetch water! Sam! Get wood and light a fire in the stove!” It’s Baking Day!” He cackled maniacally.

     Sam and Gretel got up. “Yes sir!” they both said in a dull voice.

666

     Meanwhile, back in the real world, things were not going well. The daddies were a wreck. They were grieving. They couldn’t eat. They couldn’t work. Three couldn’t sleep. Michael had gone the other route and his depression made him so tired that he slept nearly all the time and with a scary hibernation/comatose intensity.

     As Brian had expected, Michael had not believed a word of their story, any more than if they had brought home a handful of magic beans. He yelled at them for being taken in by a couple of obvious con artists. He yelled at them for taking whatever Anita had sold them while their babies were missing. He yelled at them to go file a real police report. He yelled some more, blaming Justin, his hatred toward the blond man rising to the surface and bubbling to a rolling boil. At that point his voice started to give out and since he couldn’t yell anymore just broke down sobbing instead. Ben sighed and shuffled sadly off to the kitchen to make him some lemon and honey tea. And a valium.

     Afterward, with Michael safely passed out, the other three men were able to discuss it more rationally. Zen Ben, being a believer in metaphysical things, was more inclined to believe their story after swearing them to truthfulness. Brian and Justin even offered and willingly swore on the Bible. Well, Justin did, coming from a WASP-type upbringing. Brian looked at the thing like it was a cobra, its venomous fangs dripping poison, ready to strike.

     “This goes against everything I believe in, you realize that right?” he asked the other two.

     “I know, baby,” Justin said, batting his baby blues, “Come on, I know you can do it.”

     “Geez, Saint Joan must be rolling in her grave laughing her head off,” Brian murmured.

     “I thought she was still alive,” Justin said.

     “My point exactly,” Brian replied irrationally. He touched the offending book with the tip of the tip of his finger and said quickly, “I-swear.” He yanked his hand back and waited for lightning to strike him dead. Nothing happened.

     “I love you,” Justin said, pulling him close.

     “Twat,” Brian said grumpily, but he enfolded Justin in a bear hug and pulled him on his lap and wouldn’t let go for a long time.

     “Well then, if Sam and Dean have crossed over into this…other place…we have to trust them they will keep the children safe. They will bring them back.” Ben rationalized. “All we can do is wait.”

     But as the days passed, even Brian and Justin started to lose hope. Something must have happened. Sam and Dean weren’t coming back. Something must have gone terribly wrong. Perhaps even fatally so. And if that was so, and since they had received no ransom note, all the daddies started to fear the worst.

     Worst yet was telling the mommies. Stuck in France they were overwhelmed with grief…them anger….then vengeance…then grief again. Mel got litigious. She swore if they ever got the kids back she was having all their negligent asses’ custody revoked forever. This made all the daddies even more depressed. The world that was their existence lost all color and cohesion. It became harder and harder to wake Michael up. Things looked extremely grim.

     After a week, the daddies were just going through the motions. The world was as grey as the starting scenes of The Wizard of OZ. Brian had Cynthia and Ted practically running Kinnetic and when he did have to come in or meet with a client, he stretched his face into an appropriate smile that he practiced in front of a mirror. He kept a small one with him to make sure it looked OK because no matter what he saw in the glass it always felt as stretched as a caricature and as fake as a latex mask.

     Justin couldn’t paint.

     Ben used substitutes or taped his lectures so he wouldn’t have to come in. He had to spend more and more time looking after Michael. After a while he started to feel more like his caretaker rather than his lover.

      Michael continued to sleep about 16 hours a day. The rest of the time, he’d shuffle around the house aimlessly. He was always half asleep. He’d take a shower. He’d eat but whatever he did tasted like cardboard with a side of Styrofoam. He started to hallucinate. He’d see Jenny R on the couch, brushing her teeth, eating breakfast. Sometimes it was just a glimpse, like a gremlin running out of the corner of his eye but sometimes it was very clear. It was only during these times did he actually smile but whenever he drew near, she would vanish away and he’d remember. After a short time he’d get muddled and half asleep again and eventually drop off again. He never dreamed.

     Finally, there came a day where Brian and Justin showed up to see how they were and to check if Sam and Dean had called Ben’s number.

     They hadn’t. Ben answered the door and invited the other two men in for coffee. The embraced closely, united in grief.

     “How is he?” Brian asked.

     “Not good. He’s just getting worse. I – I don’t know what to do. I think we may have to start considering a psychiatrist. He’s beginning to lose touch with reality.”

     “Reality! Ha!” scoffed Brian, “Dimension portals. Wicked witches! What is real anymore?”

     “Nevertheless, Michael’s worse than all of that! When he’s not sleeping, he’s half asleep and seeing JR everywhere in the house. He hasn’t left the house in days and his moods are erratic. I guess I took for granted what a nurturing influence he’d become in JR’s life. He needed that. And now that she’s gone…”

     As if on cue, Michael yelled from the kitchen, “Ben! JR’s hungry! Where’s the applesauce!”

     “Top shelf in the fridge!” Ben yelled back.

     “You humor him? Is that wise?” Justin asked.

     “It just saves time. Wait for it…” Ben replied, counting off on his fingers. 3…2…1…

     A moan of supreme disappointment and grief filled the air.

     “Michael shuffled into view. He was unshaven. He was dressed but his clothes were rumpled and it was obvious he didn’t care what he had on.

     “Man, that was a clear one. I saw her at the…What are they doing here?” he bristled hostilely, as he caught sight of them.

     “Michael, Brian and Justin came to visit. They wanted to see how you were doing and see if Sam and Dean had called,” Ben explained gently, in his deep timbre. “They’re our friends, remember?”

     “I’m missing one little girl. That’s how I am.”

     “We know Michael. We’re missing a little boy, remember? We’re all grieving. Why can’t you join us? Why are you cutting yourself off from us? Can’t you let us help you? Let us love you.” Justin stood.

     Michael’s eyes grew wide and he seemed to wake for the first time in ages. “YOU! Love you!? You little shit! It was your fault! This is all your fault!” He grabbed Justin by the front of his shirt and shook him like a rag doll.

     “I remember now! I remember! It was YOU! You were supposed to go with them! You were supposed to go with them! Why didn’t you GO! WHY DIDN’T YOU GO!? ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS GO, AND THEY’D BE HERE! YOU BASTARD!” Michael drew a fist and punched Justin to the ground. “All you had to do was go and she’d be alive! OH GOD! She`s dead! My baby`s dead! My little girl`s dead! And he broke down at last and fell to his knees and sobbed and sobbed as if he`d never stop.

     Ben helped Justin up. “I’m so sorry, Justin. I should have warned you not to...to...oh I don’t even know what anymore!” He sobbed. “I’m just so sorry!”

     “It’s all right, Ben,” Justin said, “It’s not your fault. It’s nobody here’s fault.” His eye was already turning an interesting shade of purple. “But this cannot continue! I refuse! I’m going to find whois responsible and MAKE THEM PAY!”

     And with that, he turned and ran out of the house.

     Brian didn’t know what to say. He just looked helplessly at Ben and shrugged. Ben waved, Go, Go! and turned to Michael to enfold him in his beefy embrace.

     Brian ran after Justin who was already a long half block away. Brian started chasing. “Justin! Justin! Stop!”

     But Justin didn’t stop. He couldn’t. He heard Brian calling him but he didn’t care. He just kept running. He didn’t know where he was going. What did that matter? He didn’t know where his kids were. Maybe if he ran fast enough and far enough, he’d fall through the hole in the universe that had swallowed them up and find them.

     Brian had to chase him two blocks before he was able to catch him and pull him into his arms.

     “Dont!! Let me go! Let me go! Don’t! Let me go!” Justin struggled and attempted to run but Brian just enfolded his tighter.

     “What was that? Don’t let you go? You got it sweetness!”

     Justin laughed then cried, then beat on Brian’s chest. “Damn you!” he sobbed but there was no malice in his voice.

     “Come on back, Justin. There’s nothing you can do by just aimlessly running around.”

     “I don’t care. I’m not going back in there!  You can go back if you want but I’m not going back to that house or even home until I find my children!!”

     “But what can we do? You remember that portal! We couldn’t pass through.”

     “I don’t care,” Justin said rebelliously, “I’ll get Molly! I’ll get her to help me!” He pulled away to run again.

     Brian held onto his arm and pulled him back into a tight embrace. They kissed passionately and while they did, a bit of color seemed to seep back into the world. Brian framed Justin’s face with his palms and kissed him again softly.

     “Whatever you want. Wherever you go, I’m coming with you. I’ll help you. I’m with you...always.

     “I love you, Brian.”

     “I love you too Sunshine.”

     Justin started to move off but Brian held fast.

     “One question. Can we go back for the car first though?”

     “Yes. I think that would be acceptable.”

     They laughed for the first time in what seemed like forever. They wrapped themselves up in each other and went back for the car.

666

     In the gingerbread house, a merry fire was blazing in the kiln type stove.

     Gretel sat on her knees with the task of blowing into it with a pair of bellows. Sam stood to one side with a long, curved, wicked looking carving knife in his hand and a blank look on his face.

     The warlock rubbed in hands together eagerly. His licked his lips in a disgusting display of perverse anticipation.

     The two captives were paralyzed with terror.

     “SO! Who wants to go first!!?”

            And he cackled, long and horribly.

TBC