9:17pm Newport – Rhode Island
Hannah felt something soft against her cheek. It was in stark contrast to the pounding pain behind her eyes.
"Doc" whispered Dean as brushed the hair out of her face. "Doc, can you hear me?"
Hannah let her eyes open, despite every instinct to keep them closed. The first thing she saw was Dean leaning over her, his eyes were wary and filled with concern.
"Dean?" she managed to say and at the sound of his name he smiled down at her.
"Welcome back." He said putting an arm under her back and helping her sit up. "I'm glad you're conscious because I was beginning to get a little lonely."
Hannah looked around and saw that Dean had checked on his brother and the young man the Demon had tormented.
"Is he alive?" she asked the words feeling like razors in her throat.
"Yes he is, but some of those wounds on his body are pretty deep. I'm going to need your help patching him up. Although that might be tricky sitting out here on the porch"
Hannah tapped at her coat pockets for the telltale jingle of her keys and reaching into her right pocket she pulled them out and handed them to Dean.
"Now that's what I was after. How'd you know Doc? Let me guess…. you're psychic" he said with an element of sarcasm.
Hannah just smiled at Dean; she knew that he had been worried for the safety of his brother and her. His outbursts of sarcasm, was what he used to deal with his fear.
Pulling the handgun out of his pants pocket he carefully opened the front door and did a quick sweep of the house, checking the rooms before he bought anyone else inside.
Hannah watched as the lights in each room steadily came on, and when they were finally all on, she pushed herself up on shaking legs and walked over to the young man on her porch.
Dean had pulled his shirt off and had torn strips off it to tie as tourniquets around the wounds on the man's arms. The looked ragged and bloody, but as Hannah studied then closer, they were not as deep as they first appeared.
She then turned her attention to Sam who was still unconscious; she walked over to him, kneeling down beside him to check his pulse. It was strong and steady and his breathing was deep and even, it was like he was in a really deep sleep that no one could wake him from. Hannah's brows knitted together. She had pushed him to loose consciousness, but this state of unconsciousness was far beyond anything that she had done to him.
Dean reappeared by the door, putting the gun into the waistband of his jeans. "I'd like to know what you did to my brother Doc, I was yelling in his ear for a few minute before you came to and I can't get boo out of him."
"This isn't me." She said brushing the hair out of Sam's face.
"Forgive me for being skeptical Doc, but weren't you the one who knocked his ass out?"
Hannah looked up at Dean her eyes filling with concern. " I just put him under. This must be a result of the psychic backlash."
Dean came over to where she knelt and pulled one of Sam's arms across his shoulders. "The what?"
Hannah helped pulled Sam's dead weight up as Dean slung him across his shoulders, on nearly two occasions Dean looked like his knees might give out on him, but he somehow managed to keep Sam over his shoulder in a fireman's lift.
As Dean struggled with Sam into the house, Hannah walked behind, stopping Sam's limp body from slipping off Dean's shoulders.
"This is just a theory, but it is the only way that I have to explain it."
"Give me some answers now Doc." Said Dean testily half carrying and half dragging Sam into the living room,
"Humans were never meant to have the powers that Sam and I have Dean. Our bodies were not meant for it. So when we use a lot of psychic energy, we overload our physical body and it had to shut down for a while."
"This ever happen to you?" asked Dean letting his brother fall from his shoulders onto the couch.
"I loose consciousness on occasion." admitted Hannah, the colour rising to her cheeks as if this was something to be embarrassed about.
"Sam is out cold Doc, that's a little more than loosing consciousness." Said Dean as he turned on his heel and went outside to retrieve the young man from the porch.
Hannah hurried behind him as he walked.
"You said that all the chosen children were pitted against each other right?"
Dean stopped mid stride and turned back to look at her. "Yeah"
Hannah brushed her hair out of her eyes. "What if there was a finite amount of energy that had been split between the chosen. By pitting them against each other the Yellow Eyed Demon ensured that the strongest, the one most adept at wielding that power survived right?"
Dean eyed her following her train of thought. "What you think that each of the Chosen's power increased when they killed one of the other ones?"
"From your account of what happened it stands to reason?" said Hannah kneeling down beside the young man, who was beginning to stir. "Jake just kept getting stronger after he had done away with everyone…including Sam"
At the reminder a stab of pain lanced through Dean's gut. Hannah felt it too. She had always been very empathic with Dean, even since their first meeting, but she didn't like his pain, so she placed her hand on his arm in an effort to comfort him. Immediately, her mind was filled with images of Sam lying dead on the floor and an overwhelming grief struck her, making her almost physically sick.
She shook her head slightly to try and clear the memory that she knew had been Dean's.
"When Sam killed Jake, I think he got the Lion's share of the power." said Hannah quietly, carefully studying Dean's reaction.
"So what if he did?" replied Dean his defenses for his brother going into overdrive.
"Dean, Sam was never meant to have those powers. He died while competing for them."
Dean pulled the young man up and over his shoulder in one swift move, eager not to continue this conversation with the Doc.
"What are you trying to say Doc?"
Hannah sighed as she watched Dean manhandle the young man, who was effectively a stranger to them all into her living room.
"I honestly don't know Dean. Perhaps these powers are too much for Sam's body to cope with, perhaps the reason he was killed in the contest was not a matter of corruption be a case of physical limitation, who can say? All I know is that when Sam turned that attack on me, he tapped into more power than I have felt for a very long time"
Dean lay his burden down on the sofa opposite the one his brother now lay on and turned back to study the Doc.
"Dean, Sam frightened me tonight" she admitted, her voice growing incredibly quiet, so much so that Dean had to struggle to even hear it "If he had greater control over this power, I have no doubt he could have killed me."
Dean wanted to be angry with the Doc; he wanted to rail against what she said and defend his brother with every breath in his body. But he understood what it had taken for her to make an admission of that kind. If nothing else in this world, the Doc was certainly proud. For her to admit her fear to him, only went to validate her opinions of Sam.
Dean moved close to her, but her eyes were locked onto some far away place. He circled her wrist with his fingers, and gave and gently squeeze. She didn't look at him in the eye, but instead looked down to where there bodies were locked. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder and bent down to whisper in her ear, letting his hand run up and down her forearm to try and bring about warmth and comfort.
"I'm going to go down and get the truck." He whispered, "Watch out for my brother would you?"
With that he walk past her, not letting the contact between them be broken until the very last minute.
Hannah heard the front door close and it shook her from her reverie. She hurried into the kitchen and filled a bowl with warm water. Reaching to the cupboard near the range hood, she pulled out cotton wipes, bandages and antiseptic.
Walking back into the living room, Hannah sank down to her knees in front of Sam and dampened a cotton wipe and with infinitely gentle fingers she wiped the dried blood from Sam's top lip and from under his nose. With her free hand she brushed his dark hair away from his face.
"If I did this to you Sam." she whispered her voice catching slightly in her throat "I am so sorry. I truly never meant to hurt you. I was just trying to stop you from hurting yourself or someone else. When you wake up, I hope you can forgive me."
At her last words, Sam seemed to stir slightly his eyes moving rapidly under his eyelids like he was dreaming. Hannah held her breath, hoping the Sam would gain consciousness, but he seemed to groan slightly and then drop back to the comatose state that he had been in for the last 10 minutes or so.
Hannah sighed, scrunching the bloodied wipe up and putting it on the coffee table. She then turned her attention on the young man who slumped in the other sofa. She poured the antiseptic into the bowl of water and began cleaning the jagged wounds on the young man's arm.
As soon as the cotton touched his skin, the young man flinched and nearly snatched his arm back his eyes flying open in wide eyed fear.
"Shhhh" said Hannah gently "You're Ok. You're safe for the moment."
The young man looked at her with a sudden recognition. "I know your voice." he managed to croak.
Hannah smiled at the young man, who couldn't have been more than 19 or 20. He had a tall skinny frame, not nearly as tall as Sam, but his gangly physique made him look more awkward some how.
"Don't try and talk." said Hannah gently sponging off the seeping blood from his arm. "You've had quite a night."
The young man grabbed on to her arm and dragged her attention to his eyes, eyes that seemed far too large for his face.
"What happened to me?" he asked, the effort of speaking and the realization that something horrendous had happened making his eyes tear up. Without shame he let the fat tears roll down his face.
Hannah cocked her head sideways, her own eyes tearing up at the young man's shock and confusion. Every emotion that he felt rolled off of him in waves that hit her like a kick in the chest. Usually she did better when she was faced with an onslaught of emotion, but Hannah's own thoughts and feeling were so close to the surface that she couldn't help feeling everything.
"It's going to be ok." she said almost choking on the words as they came out "Just try and rest. What's your name?"
The young man looked around as if he were suddenly confused by his surroundings. He was like a little boy looking for a parent in a crowded super market. "Michael" he said "My name Michael but everyone calls me Mike."
Hannah wiped her thumb along Mike's cheek, wiping the tracks of his tears off of his face. She tried to smile, but her muscles just couldn't be convinced to work right now.
"Mike, my name is Hannah. I'm going to look out for you OK." she said threading her fingers into his hand, giving him something solid to hold onto.
The front door opened suddenly and Dean came barreling through it carrying the two duffle bags full of weapons. Hannah stood abruptly letting go of Mike's hand and she hurried through to the kitchen. For a reason that she couldn't explain it was important for her to come across as strong to Dean and the tears that were in her eyes now, belied that very image.
With an impatient hand she dragged it across her eyes and took a deep breath, then she turned on her heel and walked out to where Dean had parked the truck and helped him with the bags still on the flatbed.
"The kid is awake." she said, hating how her voice wavered betraying what was going on inside of her.
"Is he ok?" asked Dean slinging his pack over his shoulder and carrying the Doc's case into the house.
"Would you be?" asked the Doc as she followed him into the house, turning the porch light off as she closed the front door.
"Where am I taking these." said Dean looking back at Hannah over his shoulder. He already had one foot on the stairs so Hannah knew that he had seen most of the bedrooms.
"At the top of the stairs turn right. You can have the master bedroom and you can put Sam's stuff in front room next to that." explained Hannah
"And this?" said Dean indicating her suitcase.
"Top of the stairs, first room on the left." she said and Dean didn't wait he just hurried up the stairs. His bounding strides made Hannah feel tired just watching him.
Hannah went back to attending to Mike's wounds. Thankfully the young man had drifted back off to sleep, the shock finally taking its toll. He slipped in and out of consciousness as she cleaned and dressed his wounds. She had to get Dean to help her dress the wounds on his chest and then they took him up the stairs and put him in the room next to the Doc's.
As they walked down the stairs, Dean looked over his shoulder a cocky smile pulling at his lip.
"This isn't exactly a cottage Doc. I think that anyplace that has four or more bedrooms can't be considered a cottage."
Hannah shrugged and easy shoulder "Depends on what your point of comparison is. In comparison to the massive houses down the coast, this would be lucky to be called a work shed."
Dean shrugged slightly conceding the point. He had to admit the house was beautiful. It had been built into the headland, cutting into the rock and using the natural camber of the rocky shore. There were four levels, to the house, the top level where all bedrooms, the level that they came in on was filled with a large kitchen a formal lounge room and a dining room.
He hadn't seen much of the two lower levels, but he had spied a bar and pool table and another room that looked like a library with, it's floor to ceiling books. There had been a door on the third level leading to a lower floor, but it had been locked when Dean did a sweep of the house, so he would have to see where that went in the morning.
The house was all timber, even the floors where timber, but the Doc had put large rugs and hall runners throughout the house. To Dean the style, the remoteness, even the configuration appealed to him. He hadn't thought a lot about houses in the past, knowing that he would never have one, but if his life were different he would have loved to have lived in a house just like this.
"Coffee?" asked Hannah heading down the hall to the kitchen.
"Sure!" said Dean following closely behind. He was also outrageously hungry, but he felt rude asking the Doc so he held his tongue.
"Adam would have put some food in the pantry and stocked the fridge if your hungry." said Hannah mildly and Dean nearly did a little jig. There really were some advantages at hanging out with a psychic.
He pulled open the tall cupboard that lead to the pantry and did a double take as one whole side was filled with boxes of toasters and kettles. His eyebrows knitted together as he looked at the dozens of appliances just sitting there still in their box.
"One of the draw backs of hanging out with a psychic." said Hannah "When I get upset I have this tendency to blow up electrical equipment."
Dean eyed her with mock suspicion "Remind me to never let you use my laptop."
Hannah laughed "Good call." she said "I don't get on well with computers."
Hannah filled the kettle and set it to boil. Turning she rested her hip against the counter, watching as Dean pulled a packet of cookies out of the pantry, tearing the top off and stuffing two in his mouth in one fluid motion.
He walked over to the breakfast counter and jumped up so that he was balanced on the edge looking at her. He offered her the open end of the cookie bag but she shook her head.
"If Anane wasn't lying" Hannah began "and Asbeel is the one coming at us, this isn't good."
"Tell me about him?" said Dean his mouth so full of cookie that he was almost unintelligible.
"He is one of the fallen." she said "He beguiles others giving them misleading or bad counsel until he ultimately brings about their downfall, and he is as powerful with other demons as he is with humans."
"You think it set up this Anane to go down so that it could see what we were capable of?"
Hannah shrugged slightly walking over to the cupboard where she kept her coffee mugs. "Maybe not testing us necessarily, but perhaps Asbeel sent Anane to test what sort of defenses protected the grimoires."
Dean's brows knitted together as Hannah spoke "Why can't these things have better names like Frank or Ed?"
Hannah looked wryly at him "Oh that would just sound fantastic in you journal wouldn't it. 'Earlier this evening we bested the dread demon Ed and now we are going for the great and mighty Frank'."
"You're right it does lack a certain something."
Hannah smiled, it was nice to break the tension of the evening with a little humor and lord knew they were all very tense from the evening's events.
"How do you take it?" said Hannah holding up the mug of coffee.
"Lots of cream, lots of sugar thanks." replied Dean shoving another cookie in his mouth.
Hannah's face grew suddenly solemn as she handed him the mug. "Do you think any more will come tonight?"
Dean held her gaze as he took the coffee from her. Her eyes were bloodshot and there were dark circles under her eyes. The night's events had certainly taken their toll on her and instinctively Dean knew that she would never admit to her fatigue, but she was clearly worried that she would have to fight again this evening.
"Maybe?" said Dean trying to sound un-phased by the prospect. "I'll stay up and watch the place though. I was going to keep and eye on Sam anyway, and I'll be damned if I carry his heavy ass up those stairs. He was lucky he even made it into the house!"
Hannah smiled at him and took a sip from her cup of tea.
"You have defenses in place though right?" questioned Dean "Just in case you better run through them with me. And it wouldn't hurt us to salt all the windows and doors."
Hannah nodded and put her tea cup down gently in the sink, walking over to the box that sat on the counter that Adam had bought for them. "I'll" show you." she said pulling a bag of rock salt out of the box.
They started with the front door. Hannah explained all the hidden demonic booby traps that she had put in the house. Devil's traps had been painted on the underside of the floor boards, acting like a demonic form of land mines. By each door and window, there were cunning channel ways cut into the wood that were hidden by a thin wooden lids, that allowed salt to be stored in front of every opening, without being poured directly on the floor.
Hannah also pointed out inscription painted in Aramaic, Sumerian and Babylonian that were hidden in the cornices of rooms or carved into the skirting boards of hallways. Dean looked on impressed. The whole house had been fortified against Demon's in every way that he could conceive of and in a few that he couldn't.
Hannah knew that Dean was impressed by the defenses that she had put in place, however she could take no joy from his praise. She had gone to such effort not to protect the grimoires from other demons but to protect them from herself.
Hannah knew that the demonic force that had once controlled every aspect of her life still dwelled within her and only tenacity and discipline kept it at bay. If she were ever to falter, she had safeguarded the grimoires so that the demon inside her would never be able to use the books that she had collected against anyone else. The fact that was even a remote possibility filled her with shame.
Finally, they found themselves standing in front of the locked door that lead down to the lowest level.
"I built a vault in the basement that I use for the grimoires." she said.
"A vault?" said Dean "Are you serious?"
Hannah looked at him, her eyes filling with pain "I told you I would never let it happen again."
Dean swallowed hard, troubled by the clear look of suffering on the Doc's face. He didn't do negative emotions well, preferring to gloss over them with a smart assed comment or ignore them all together. But he knew the Doc deserved more from him, so he slipped his hand across her shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze.
"You've gone to a lot of trouble Doc. I'm sure it will never happen again."
Hannah nearly wept at the sincerity in his voice. She hadn't expected that from him and he had caught her off guard as a result. To cover her response she busily made her way back up the stairs.
"Well I'm going to check on Mike and then get some sleep myself. There are quilts on the chairs if you get cold and there are blankets in the linen cupboard under the stairs." she said a little too hastily.
"Thanks Doc" Dean called after her as he watched her continue up to her room.
He walked into the living room where Sam was slumped awkwardly on the sofa. He moved closer to his brother, pulling off his boats and maneuvering his body so that he was lying down on the sofa.
"Jesus Bro" he muttered as he pulled a quilt off the back of the sofa and spread it over Sam "Your feet stink."
Once he had finished seeing to Sam, Dean sunk into one of the lush chairs that faced out to the front porch. He had turned out all the lights and sat in the dark looking for movement.
"So" he muttered to the prone form of his brother "How's unconsciousness? I hope it's working out well for you? No? Nothing? Thanks Sammy, this has been the most productive conversation that we've had for a while."