A/N: Thanks so much for your reviews corbsxx, SaxonBandwagon, Ravenclaw992, happytide, EmpireX, KorroksApostle, ForeverACharmedOne, Lady Liesel, walawalabadkoala, Cleonie 'Jayne Mansfield' Quin, linalove, ThermodynamicMiracle, pourquoibella, Clavin Salomonis, LandBeyondtheForest, itspeanutbutterjellytimex3, Lady Nerd, Untitled, Zeny, CrazyinAbottle, HowlynMad, and Fan O' Fanfic! :D

This chapter is a bit of filler and a little short, sorry about that guys. But I think you'll like where it's headed. :P

Scythe

Chapter Six

/

It was Saturday, O blessed Saturday, and as I slowly regained consciousness, met with pale sunlight streaming in through the window, I rolled onto my side and collided with a very dead-asleep Dean, with his graying black hair askew on the pillow and his mouth open. I cuddled into his side, still too tired to bother getting up, and resting my head against his breast I listened to the steady pump of his heartbeat, soothing enough to send me into sleep once more.

Only I didn't sleep, I simply dozed, focusing on Dean's heartbeat and massaging my fingertips into his curly chest hair, thinking back to when we had class together, and how I was always so excited to see him walk through the door, to see what he was wearing, because he dressed the most casual of all my professors and yet looked the best out of all of them every single time. I remember around Valentine's Day he grew a beard that I absolutely hated, and he must have known because he shaved it after one particular class where I had glared at him all throughout lecture. That being said, I probably wasn't the only one. Girls in the class absolutely loved him; I remember watching a few of them approach him once and ask if he was teaching anything in the springtime, which made him laugh but made me sneer. They weren't even being careful about showing their attraction. I never would have asked such an obvious question.

I remember every time he looked at me, and I do mean right at me, with his smiling brown eyes, I would feel my breath catch in my chest and my face go hot, and I was always so tempted to smile back at him but never did, in case anyone saw.

The first time I approached him after class to ask a question, he grinned so widely at me I thought I was going to melt, and I stared at his hands and arms as he crossed them over his chest, just imagining how he could rip the clothes right off me. I spent many an evening either in bed or in the bathtub thinking up the raunchiest fantasies I could (which led to some pretty intense orgasms, I don't mind telling you). Lydia thought I was sick and there was no way he would ever sleep with a student; she said I was crazy and to get over him and I tried, oh man, how I tried.

The first time I woke up in Dean's bed after officially moving in, I felt weirdly homesick and very strange, almost like having cold feet or something. But he woke up and gathered me in his arms and pulled me into his chest and sleepily muttered "Morning," into my hair and that was when I knew I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

This morning was like that first morning, lazy and sleepy and with nobody else but him, and I was drifting off once more when suddenly I heard someone in the room politely clear his throat.

When I looked up, I was shocked to see Dr. Crane sitting at the foot of the bed, all adorned in a suit and tie, holding his damn little notebook and pen, smiling at me as I snapped to attention.

"The fuck are you doing here?!" I asked, suddenly very wide awake.

"You missed our session, Hanna," Crane said, and tapped his watch with one finger. "I thought we agreed not to miss a session unless it was an emergency-"

"I didn't miss session, you lunatic!" I shrieked a him. "Get out of here!"

Crane promptly ignored me, looking down at his notebook and clicking his pen. "I couldn't help but notice you're not using birth control, care to explain why?"

I gaped at him. Bastard! Who the hell did he think he was?!

"You do know how risky it is, don't you?" Crane asked, turning his blue unflinching eyes towards me and staring me down with both eyebrows raised. "You're 25, healthy, the ideal specimen to be impregnated-"

I went to throw the covers off me and storm over to hit him, throw him out, call the police, something to make him stop, make him shut his filthy fucking mouth, but I couldn't, I was frozen. My limbs wouldn't respond to my demands. I looked at my arms, wondering why I couldn't move them, and Crane just stared at me with a taunting smile teasing on his lips.

"I'm warning you, Crane," I said, pointing my finger at him while he just cooly stared back at me. "If you don't shut the fuck up right now, I'll wake Dean up and he will beat your skull into the floorboards!"

Crane just stared at me, daring me to do it, tipping his chin a little. "Go ahead, wake him. I'd like to hear his side of things. I'd particularly like to hear his reasoning for cumming inside of you."

"You disgusting motherfucker-" I snarled and hurled a pillow at him. "GET OUT!"

Suddenly Crane's expression because dangerously angry and his eyes were narrowing and penetrating. "Hanna, you are not responding to treatment, we need to dig deeper."

"I think we need to stop therapy altogether!" I sneered at him. "I don't need it!"

"I think you do," Crane countered, coldly, in a no-nonsense tone. "What, are you afraid of what I might find when I get inside your pretty little head-"

"All right, that's it," I snapped, and turned to my side. "Dean-"

But the bed was empty.

I frowned, and frantically looked around. Dean couldn't have gotten up without me noticing, where did he go? He was nowhere to be seen, and as I looked Crane just sat there smiling that nasty little smile at me, like he knew something I didn't.

"He's not here, Hanna," he told me, matter-of-factly. "He's not. It's just you and me."

And then he giggled, this obscene, frightening little giggle, that couldn't have possibly come from him and yet where else could it have come from? I stared at him, at the laughter brimming in his blue eyes, at the corners of his lips forming a psychotic little smile.

"Just you..." his voice became thicker and dark, distorted, and his eyes were wild. "and me."

I screamed, and came face to face with my pillow.

I sat up, my heart thundering against my ribcage, looking at the end of the bed. Crane wasn't there watching me; the room was bathed with mid-morning light. I breathed heavily, frantically, allowing myself to come back to reality.

Just a dream. Just a dream.

Dean wasn't beside me in bed, but the door was wide open and I could smell coffee, a sure sign he was awake and moving about. I lay on my back for awhile, allowing myself to calm down, breathe. It was just a dream.

I got up after awhile, because I knew there was no way I'd get back to sleep, and I went into the bathroom and started up the hot water in the shower, pulling my pajama top off and inspecting my face in the mirror. This pale, frightened face looked back at me, and I shook my head, trying to get it out of my head.

Then, I looked down at the drawer in the vanity and pulled it open, picking up my birth control pills and inspecting them suspiciously, as though they were placebos or something. I couldn't help but think, as I inspected the pack in my hand, to the point in the dream where Crane asked why I wasn't using birth control...what did it mean? I obviously was using birth control, so why...

But I shook the thought out of my head and returned the pills to the drawer. It was just a dream, some fucked-up dream, and I repeated this to myself like a mantra as I slipped out of my pajamas and into the shower.

Just a fucked up dream, seriously, what did any of it mean? I washed my hair idly, rinsing it, wondering why Crane of all people decided to make an appearance. And the questions he had asked...so personal, so intensely personal...I felt dirty all over, like I was covered in grease, so I scrubbed at my skin with exfoliating soap until I felt better. I turned off the water, opened the door -

and screamed.

Dean reacted, his eyes going wide, appropriately startled, but then he recovered easily, laughing his booming laugh. "Fuck, you scared me!" he said, handing me the towel he was holding in one hand.

"I scared you?" I asked, wrapping myself in the towel.

Dean just sat there on the toilet, watching as I knotted the towel around my frame and started to brush out my soaked hair, and his face fell a little. "Jesus, Han, are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

I stared at myself in the mirror. I did, too, I looked freaked, like I was expecting some axe murderer to come charging in and hack me to pieces while I stood there in nothing but a towel. I turned towards him and drank from his coffee cup, while he drew a a fingertip down the length of my naked, wet arm.

"Bad dreams," I sighed.

/

Sunday was a work day, and Dean was surprisingly diligent about it. We sat at the kitchen table, me with the rewrite of my paper proposal (with several more primary sources, thanks to my bonny prof's advice) and Dean was marking the last of the bundle of term papers. Our deal was, we get everything done, and then we could get pizza for dinner and watch a movie, or go right to bed, something along those lines, whatever struck our fancy when the time came. It was incentive to get everything done and right so it was ready for school in the morning.

And it was going remarkably well until the phone rang. It never occurred to me to tell Dean to let it ring.

"Hello?" Dean answered, and I watched his face light up. "Hey Lydia, how's it going? ...Uh huh..."

I looked at him and smiled. Even though the idea of Dean and I together made her feel a little squeamish from time to time, Dean was still one of her favourite professors, and even though she would never admit it, I could tell she really liked being on a conversation basis with him now that he and I were seeing each other.

"Yeah, no, she's right here," Dean nodded to me and I slowly got up. "So who's teaching your History of Alexander this term? Rowsell, huh? Does he still have that theory that Alexander died of cholera?"

I shook my head at him and took the phone. "Give 'er here, associate professor."

Dean grinned at me and went back to the table. I watched his ass until he sat down and pressed the earpiece to my ear. "Hey Lydia."

"Hanna," she said in her no-nonsense tone. "Your Dad called again."

I swallowed a sigh and pulled the cord around the corner, out of the kitchen into the hallway, out of earshot from Dean. "What'd he say this time?"

"I thought you were gonna give him your new number," she pressed.

I shook my head. "I haven't had a chance to tell him-"

"Apparently not," she said, on the brink of snapping at me. "He mentioned how he keeps missing you on the phone, I had to tell him you were at a birthday party. I thought you said you'd tell him."

I sighed heavily. I knew she was right, I hated that she had to keep lying for me. I knew if our roles were reversed, I'd be just as a pissed off.

"I'm sorry," I told her. "I know I've gotta tell him, I keep meaning to-"

"Well you've got a perfect chance," she said. "He called to say they were on their way home tomorrow."

I frowned. It seemed far too soon for the honeymoon to be over...but then I remembered that it was the last week of September. Yeah, they'd been honeymooning for three weeks, it was time to return to normal. Fuck, the very last thing I needed...

"Okay, I'll uh..." I rubbed my face, trying to decide what to do while Lydia listened expectantly on the other line. "I'll give them a call and leave a message on their answering machine, give them my new number."

"Okay," she said, but she didn't sound too convinced. "Anyway, my 1:30pm class was cancelled for tomorrow, you wanna meet for lunch?"

I groaned. "I can't, I gotta go to my session with what's his name."

"Oh yeah?" Lydia asked, her voice lifting. "Maybe I could go to your session for you?"

I rolled my eyes and smiled a little. "Believe me, if we could pull it off, you'd be going every time. I'll see you Tuesday."

"K, see ya." Lydia said and hung up.

I hung up the phone and staggered into the kitchen, back to the table. What a fun week it was going to be, telling my father about moving in with Dean and seeing Crane for another one of our heart to hearts.

I sighed as I collapsed down in my seat at the table. "When's the next stat holiday, I think we need to run away to Tahiti."

Dean snorted loudly. "Dream on, my love."

/

I stood at the door to Crane's office, seriously contemplating just not going in, just going home and calling him to say I was sick. I'd been dreading the appointment all damn day, and even though I knew once I got in there that it was only a half hour and wouldn't take long, as soon as I got in there time would just stop. I knew he was going to bring up how I'd heard him talk when he didn't at the end of last session, and I didn't want to talk about it at all, I just wanted to forget it even happened.

That filthy dream was still in my mind as I knocked on the door; a moment later, he opened it, giving me a tiny little smile as he nodded to me in greeting. "Hanna, good afternoon. Please come in."

I went in, begrudgingly, and sat myself down in the usual patient chair, watching as he closed the door and sat down across from me, elegantly as ever. When his eyes met mine, they were alert yet relaxed, and he managed a smile.

"How was your weekend?"

Almost as if he really had invaded my home, knew it was driving me crazy, and was rubbing it in. Prick. "Fine."

He nodded and looked at his notebook, and then he settled himself into his seat, making a face like he was bracing himself for a long lecture. "There's something very particular I'd like to discuss today."

I swallowed a groan and crossed my arms. We were gonna talk about the hearing of the voice, oh goody gumdrops. "What's that?"

Crane looked right at me, his big blue eyes prepped to attention. I braced myself.

"Hanna, how familiar are you with the Oedipus Complex?"

/