A/N: Alrighty so, I've decided to continue this, sat down, came up with a plot line, and I think it'll be half-way decent. Again, I apologize for any story-line errors, seen the movie once. Now, I know this chapter doesn't seem to have much to do with the past that I wrote in the previous chapter, but it will if y'all just bear with me. : ) Thanks to everyone who's read, or added this to their respective lists, and special thanks to everyone who reviewed.

Hansel groaned as he rolled over onto his back, another night of uneasy, restless sleep leaving him more tired than he had been when he'd laid down to sleep.

"Good morning, brother."

He groaned again at Gretel's cheerful voice from across the room. "What time is it?" He muttered, throwing his arm over his eyes.

"Almost ten. Sleep well?"

He could hear the grin in her words, knew that she knew full well he hadn't. So he didn't answer as he pushed himself to a sitting position, trying to rub the kink out of his neck.

"So what's the plan for today?" He asked gruffly, searching around the floor for his injector, before sticking the needle through his pants, into his thigh, and depressing the lever.

"Well, while you were getting your beauty sleep, I was thinking about something," Gretel said, her voice becoming almost absent, and he knew without looking that she was reading her notes. "Two kids disappeared, right? A boy, and a girl, thirteen and fourteen."

"If you say so," He grunted, pulling himself to his feet, and plopping down at the table. He ignored her eye roll as he reached for one of the rolls that sat on the table – long since gone cold – and began to eat.

He never really paid attention to why they were called to a town. Research was Gretel's thing, always had been, since he could barely read, and had no desire to learn. When he'd first told her that, she'd sarcastically asked what his 'thing' was. His answer was simple. Killing.

"I was thinking, that's a little old for witches to be snatching, isn't it?" She said, pulling him out of his thoughts. "I mean, sure, they'll eat just about anything, but usually they only kidnap younger kids. And supposedly, both of these kids just vanished into thin air, and nobody heard anything, nobody seen anything... Last place anybody remembers seeing them was in the center of town, few hours before dark."

"So... You're thinking runaways?" He asked, ignoring her grimace as pieces of biscuit flew out of his mouth.

"Well... Normally, I'd say yeah. But..." She frowned down at the papers again, grimacing as if they'd offended her.

"C'mon, spit it out, sis. I'd like to get started, and get paid sometime soon."

She was silent for a few more minutes, still staring at the papers, before she sighed. "I'm not sure. The timing's right – we're pretty close to the fall equinox – and there's been signs of a witch in the forest... They say there's a grove, where nothing grows. That everything inside the circle is dead, and rotting. The old woman who runs the herb shop said it's been like that for almost thirty years now."

"How many other kids go missing?"

"Could you please eat your food, instead of spitting it back at me?" She asked sarcastically, and he gave her a wide, toothy grin, showcasing the latest unchewed bits of biscuit on his teeth. She groaned, before shaking her head, and getting back to business. "That's where it gets strange again. Only eleven. Thirty years, and these two put the number up at thirteen."

He shrugged as he stood, and grabbed his pack, rummaging through it for the apple he'd bought at the market the previous day. "Thirteen is the witch's lucky number."

"Yeah, but this is the first girl. And why spread out so far? Thirteen over thirty years? That's a little more than one every three years."

He actually paused for a moment, thinking as he took a few bites from the apple, his brow furrowing in concentration.

Gretel barely managed to keep the smile from forming on her lips as she studiously watched her older brother munch on his fruit.

While he liked to play up the brutish scoundrel, Hansel was far from the dumb, thick lug-head he tried to pass himself off as. She could tell by the way the corners of his lips turned down, the way his eyebrows drew closer together, and his foot tapping absently on the ground, that he was rifling through possibilities, and coming up with questions.

Most people just asked whatever questions came to mind, and kept asking until they got an answer they wanted. Hansel never just 'asked'; he always knew exactly what information he wanted or needed, always able to pinpoint just the right things to ask.

"What do you have on the other eleven? There's gotta be some sort of pattern, other than 'boys'. Same age group, same look, go missing from the same area? Find the pattern, maybe we can figure out why they broke the pattern grabbing the girl," He finally said, as he began loading all of his assorted weapons into their various sheathes, holsters, or pockets. "Ask around for a few hours, see what we can come up with, then we'll go check out that damn circle."

Hansel absolutely hated markets. Too many people, all crowding, shoving, and yelling, and that was on the days that nobody recognized him or Gretel.

Although she didn't seem to have a problem with it, he thought irritably, forcefully shoving a too-eager merchant away from him. The sea of people just seemed to flow around her, coming close, but never actually touching as she strode through the busy stalls.

"Where the hell are we going?" He finally snapped, shoving his way to her side.

"Just a little further," She said loudly, her brown eyes twinkling merrily, and he only barely resisted the urge to swat the back of her head. She knew how uncomfortable he was in large crowds, knew it set his teeth on edge, and riled up his temper.

And he was pretty sure she got a kick out of watching him trying to control said temper. It amused her to watch him restrain himself from getting into brawls with the people who invaded his personal space.

With that thought, he did clip her on the back of the head, giving her a grin when she glared at him.

"Very mature," She muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Older brother," He shot back, but his eyes had latched onto the three men standing at a booth, their eyes drifting up and down his sister's body. "How much further?"

"A few more stalls. What's wrong?" She asked quietly, stepping closer to him, picking up on his sudden shift in mood, the irritation gone from his voice, a dangerous edge replacing it.

"You've got admirers," He grunted, pushing her forward, his hand resting on the small of her back, hoping the possessive gesture would be enough to discourage the men from trying anything stupid, as he openly glared at the them.

"Relax," She said carelessly, in that way that he absolutely hated. "They're just looking. You know, if I treated every girl who looked at you the same way you treat men who look at me, we'd never get anything done."

He shrugged again, his eyes still watching the men – who'd wisely decided to do nothing more than look – as he repeated, "Older brother."

"That's your excuse for everything. Here we go. Try and play nice."

He forced a grin to his face as he followed her inside the dark building. "I'm always nice."