Chapter 1 – Consequences
A Motel Room - South Dakota
Hannah clutched at her chest and stomach as pain ripped through her. She doubled over at the impact and dropped heavily on he knees. The pain was so intense that she almost couldn't focus on anything else. Tears welled up in her eyes as she fought to keep conscious. Dean…Dean was in danger. The impression of the eldest Winchester had never been far from her thoughts, but now it seemed to pulse like a beacon in a squall of pain and aguish.
Then a new sensation engulfed her, it crashed over her like a wave on the shore, over whelming every sense. She had nothing, no vision, no hearing not even a sense of direction only the horrifying realisation that a tidal wave of demonic energy had just rushed into this realm of existence. The voice inside her head that had been silent for two years, roared in victory, it was the last horrifying thing she heard before she lost consciousness.
Wyoming 3:17am
Dean lay on his back with his hands laced behind his head. He could hear Sam breathing deeply from the bed on the opposite side of the room telling him that his brother was deeply asleep, but sleep seemed to be eluding Dean.
Two days ago he had killed the yellow eyed demon, but he was having trouble finding any joy in that fact. Dean may have gotten that demon, but a whole army of new demons had been released into this world. Not only that, but he had traded away his soul to bring back Sam. He had no regrets about doing that, but the demon he had made his pact with, was going to be collecting in a year. It just wasn't enough time.
It had taken 24 years and two generations of Winchester's to have a reckoning with the Yellow Eyed Demon, how were they ever going to deal with a legion of demons in just one year.
He and Sam had stayed close to the vault researching any leads that may indicate where the Demonic forces would surface, but as yet there had been no indication and he felt the days passing like they were seconds.
Dean looked across at where Sam slept. He had been watching Sam very closely since his resurrection. He didn't want to believe the Yellow Eyed Demon, but he knew that the Sam sleeping just a short distance away, was not the same Sam he had been several days ago.
There had been nothing overt that made him think that, it was just little things, gestures, responses that pointed to a change in him. Dean had wanted to ignore these little things, and just be grateful that he had his brother back, but it was impossible, he didn't have the time to waste on fooling himself anymore.
Tired of looking at the ceiling, Dean sat up, pulled on his jeans, picked up his duffle and went outside to where his beloved Impala was parked. There was a Roadhouse a mile or so from the motel and he really needed a drink.
Dean eased the car out of the Car Park, but as soon as he hit the road, he floored it allowing the powerful Chevy engine to roar in delight at its new found freedom. It didn't take long before he saw the gaudy neon sign of the Bucking Bronco Bar.
The car park was almost empty but for a few big rigs, the odd pickup and a bike or two, so Dean parked the Impala as close as he could to the entrance and wandered on in. The bar itself was nearly as empty at the parking lot. Dean wasn't sure what he was expecting at 3am but the quiet subdued, almost melancholic feel of the bar seemed to mirror his own mood, so he inclined his head at the man behind the bar and took a seat in a shadowed booth a the back of the bar.
Dean looked around the place. The décor had been inspired by Wyoming's frontier heritage, with wagon wheels and saddles mounted on the walls, but the whole thing looked a little tired and dusty. There was a mechanical bull that sat idol in one corner of the bar and the neon Budweiser sign blinked off and on sporadically, casting a sickly red glow on the wood panelled walls.
A waitress limped over to his table. He watched her struggle on what must have been aching feet. She attempted to smile at him, but her mouth didn't quite make it and it looked more like a grimace than a smile. Dean didn't mind, he didn't have a smile in him to answer hers anyway.
"What can I get for ya?'" she said pulling a pad out of the pocket of her apron and grabbing the pen that had been strategically stuck in the hair close to her ear.
"A shot of bourbon and a beer." he said, his voice competing with the crooning country ballad that was playing on the duke box.
The waitress nodded without looking up again and shuffled off to go and fix his order. As he watched her leave, he reached into his duffle and pulled out the journal that was sitting inside. He ran his hands over the brown leather cover; he felt the embossed design around the edge with his fingers and retraced his action a couple of times because he found the sensation soothing.
Dean opened the cover and looked at the pristine white page on the top. He didn't look up as the waitress bought over his order; instead he flicked through to the only page that had writing on it. The script was big and bold, the authors handwriting beautiful.
He traced his fingers over where Hannah had signed her name. It was a single line of bold strokes and connecting loops and Dean had to smile. The signature was like the woman, strong and bold at first site, yet intricately woven on closer inspection.
He had meant to call her more than six months ago, but he and Sam had gotten caught up on their next hunt and he just hadn't gotten around to it. That didn't mean he hadn't thought of her. Lately he had thought of her often.
He had thought of her when he had found Sam dead. He remember the same horrible remorse that had engulfed him, he had felt once before through her in the memory that they both shared. It wasn't just an emotion, it had been a grief so complete that it was a physical pain, and while he had shared it with Hannah when he was in her memories, he didn't fully understand it until he had seen his own brother lying dead before him.
He had thought of her and the torment that she had endured as he bargained away his soul. He had taken comfort in the fact that she had found a way to beat her own demon. If she could, perhaps he could too.
And he thought of her now. She personified for him all the things he should have done, but hadn't. It felt like that was becoming the theme for his life, and that thought troubled him. Given that he only had a year left to live, he didn't want to live it with regret. Picking up the shot of bourbon he threw it back down his throat then quickly eased the burning sensation with a sip from his beer.
He ran his fingers over her note one last time, the flipped back to the first page, where he pulled out a pen and wrote the date on the first line. He wanted someone to remember him. He knew that he would never have any children of his own, but he didn't want his existence to just end in 363 days.
If he wrote down in his journal everything that had happened to him and everything the would happen during the year, perhaps twenty years from now someone would read it and know what they had done, how they had fought and what they had sacrificed. Then his life would mean something, he wouldn't just cease to exist. Perhaps that was a foolish notion, but it bought him a measure of comfort.
He began writing about his mother and father, the appearance of the yellow eyed demon and the fire, but he scratched out every second line, until in a fit of frustration he ripped out the page and scrunched it into a little ball, chucking it with disgust onto the dusty floor.
"That's not a good start." said an accented voice that caused Dean to look up sharply.
Dean blinked rapidly thinking he was seeing things, but a realisation struck him, his mouth dropped open in shock.
"Doc ?" he said almost disbelieving his own eyes.
Hannah smiled at him. Her hair was slightly longer and she had lost some weight off her face, but those crystal blue eyes were unmistakable. She looked so out of place in the grimy road house, her tailored pants and silk blouse more suited to some high class wine bar than some two bit, peanut shells on the floor roadhouse.
"I told you our paths would cross again." she said slipping into the seat opposite him.
Self consciously Dean slid the journal off the table and shoved it back into his duffle.
"How did you find me?" he questioned signalling for the waitress
Hannah clucked her tongue in an almost maternal admonishment. "I thought you would know better than to ask that of a psychic Dean."
He chuckle slightly and Hannah laughed subtly too.
"I'm just glad your ok." she said "I got a feeling a couple of days ago that something terrible had happened."
At her words Dean sobered, his face changing from amusement to one of intense seriousness. Hannah sensed the change in him immediately and looked at him with concern.
"Something terrible has happened." she translated from the expression on his face.
"You could say that." said Dean looking up at the arrival of the waitress.
"May I please have a coffee?" said Hannah startling the waitress with her refined voice.
The waitress looked almost alarmed, like she was suddenly in the presence of royalty and she looked at Dean for support. People like Dean she got, she saw hundreds of them in here every night, but people like this English woman, just didn't come to places like the Bucking Bronco, especially not at 4 am in the morning.
"Do you want cream and sugar?" she asked her voice cracking slightly.
Hannah gave her a reassuring smile "No thank you. Black would be lovely."
The waitress backed away from the pair like she was afraid to turn her back on them and then she hurried on aching feet to the bar to collect the mug of coffee.
Hannah turned her attention back to Dean, she clasped her hands together and leaned forward so that the overhead light illuminated the fiery sheen of her auburn hair.
"Why don't you start at the beginning." she said fixing Dean with a blue eyed stare.
Dean took a deep breath to settle his churning emotions. He hadn't had a chance to talk with anyone about the events of the last week but when he started, he found that it came pouring out of him on a tide of pent up fear and emotion. He paused only briefly when the waitress delivered the Doc's coffee and continued until he had finished everything. He kept the terms of his bargain with the demon until the end, realising that of everyone that he knew, only the Doc really had an understanding of what he had done.
Hannah's expression remained carefully blank as she listened to Dean. Not once did she interrupt him, but as he spoke of the deal he had made with the demon he waves of overwhelming regret poor off of her. He face betrayed nothing, but Dean could feel her heart sink at his revelation.
"So you see, I have one year before I make good on my agreement." he finished, watching the Doc's reaction very closely.
"Not going to happen!" she said sitting up very tall in her seat is if she was somehow bolstered up by her resolve that Dean would never have to honour that agreement.
Dean found her quiet confidence somewhat comforting but he looked at her with disbelieving eyes.
"Dean" she repeated again "We are not going to let that happen. I'm not going to let that happen."
She was so earnest in her statement, Dean found himself wanting desperately to believe her. It gave him hope that she was even here.
"I appreciate your enthusiasm Doc, but there is no way out of it."
Hannah's eyes widened as she heard his words, for a moment that looked like molten mercury.
"There is always a way Dean, there is no bargain ever struck that doesn't have some sort of loophole. At the end of the day Demons are cowards, they always hedge their bets. You know I'm right Dean, it is exactly what your yellow eyed demon did with Sam and the other chosen children. Why create one when you can created half a dozen and let the strongest emerge."
Dean shook his head slightly "I think my situation is a little different Doc."
Hannah smiled at him warmly hoping that her confidence would be infectious. Dean needed hope, he needed to not be defeated before the battle had begun.
"Maybe so, but Demons don't deal in absolutes. There will be a way, we just need to find it." Hannah paused for a minute as a new thought crossed her mind "Either that or we find something that Demon wants more than your soul."
Dean's eyes shot up from where they had been fixed on his beer. He had never considered that as a possibility. Hannah smiled a knowing smile at him as if she were already formulating a plan in her mind and Dean felt a knot of tension unfurl in his chest. He didn't even realise it was there until he felt relief from it.
"Leave that with me for a bit. I'd like to think some more on it." said Hannah with a gentle smile as she took a delicate sip from her coffee. "Now let's deal with the more immediate problem; this demonic force."
As she spoke of the evil energy that had spilled out from the gateway, Hannah's voice took on a strange quality like it caused her pain to speak of it. Dean looked at her inquisitively.
"I felt it." she explained "That's how I knew something was wrong."
Dean's attention was piqued "You felt it?" he asked unable to keep the hope from his voice "Can you still feel it? Sam and I have been here for two days and we don't have any leads."
Hannah smiled sadly at him "I felt it when it happened but I can't really feel anything discernable now."
Dean seemed to deflate somehow at the knowledge. Hannah could feel that he was eager to get in the fight because he felt the time slipping by like sand through an hourglass.
"Ok" she said reverting to the safety of her intellect. When everything else failed her, her intellect had always gotten her through. "That demonic force is effectively an army. What does any army require to fight a battle?"
Dean shrugged almost absently "A good leader, a defendable position and weapons."
Hannah looked up impressed. In his idle musing of her question, which she had intended to be largely rhetorical; Dean had put her train of thought on the right track.
"All literature on the hierarchy of demons tends to indicate that the leaders are usually the strongest – Dante's 'Divine Comedy', Milton's 'Paradise Lost' even Marlowe's 'Faust' all discuss the hierarchies of hell. All of the leaders are the most powerful but because Demons are inherently treacherous, they must constantly defend their position against usurpers. The Demons may not have surfaced yet because there may be infighting for leadership now that you have removed the yellow eyed demon."
"I guess that is possible Doc…but there is a lot of speculation going on there." said Dean, pealing the label from his empty bottle of beer.
"Yes you're right. At this stage we have no evidence. So we move onto the next thing you said."
"A defensible position?"
"I know from experience that the most defensible position that a demon can take up is safe and sound in a human being. They always feel confident when they have a human shield. We need to look out for unusual and particularly brutal murders, stories of demonic possession, people who suddenly disappear from their families."
Dean nodded "Bobby and Ellen are keeping and eye out for those sorts of signs; they said they would alert us if they found anything suspicious."
Hannah nodded approvingly. She didn't know who these people where, but if Dean trusted them to help, she had no reason to doubt his judgement.
"So that just leaves us with weapons." said Dean looking at Hannah across the table.
Hannah was deep in thought as Dean spoke, she too had gone down the list and a troubling idea had started to worm its way into her mind. As the idea formed and took root her eyes widened into something Dean could only associate with panic.
"The Grimoires"
Dean watched her. It seemed a fairly simple statement yet the look of absolute fear on Hannah's face spoke volumes.
"The Gimoires? Doc, I'm not following you, fill me in." he asked leaning forward in his seat.
"A Grimoire acts like a magnifying glass for energy. If a demon where to use a grimoire it would focus its energy through the book and become more powerful. If a powerful Demon like the Yellow Eyed Demon were to use it – there would be nothing that we could do to stop it."
Dean nodded "Ok so we pick up where you left off, we find the grimoires."
Hannah looked at him, the quiet panic still etched into her face "We don't need to find them. I know where they are. They won't waste their time on the lesser books. They'll go for the oldest and most powerful."
Dean looked at Hannah still troubled by her fearful face "Fine, where are these books?"
"At the cottage." said Hannah, her voice so quiet he nearly missed it.
There was such quiet despair on Hannah's face that Dean knew she must be right. Having a destination and a target he stood up quickly, dropping some bills on the table and grabbing his duffle.
"C'mon" he said holding his hand out to help her stand. "Let's go get Sam."
