Those of Good Purpose - Chapter 9

Day 284

Indian Route 4 - Arizona 2:23pm

Hannah tried to get comfortable in her seat, the rough dirt road jostling her back and forth relentlessly. Shortly after making their quick exit from the bar, conscious of their motorcycle pursuers, Dean had taken Charlotte off the main road and had steered her onto the rough dirt road that led them away from the main roads or the inhabited areas.

It had been a calculated risk on Dean's part. He knew that it would be hard going for them, but he also knew that it would be a hell of a lot harder for the laid back low riding motorcycles that were hot on their heels. If the unpredictable dirt and gravel road surface didn't unseat their riders, then the machines themselves would end up breaking down or running out of gas well before Charlotte ever would.

It had proven to be a wise gambit; their demonic pursuers had dropped off steadily through a natural attrition of accidents, mechanical failure and empty gas tanks, leaving Hannah and Dean clear at least for a short while.

Once there pursuers had all fallen victim to the harshness of the landscape, it had given them a small respite from the relentless pace over the rough spaghetti network of roads that crisscrossed the desert. Dean had taken the window of opportunity to fuel Charlotte up at a reservation fuel pump at a small farm in literally the middle of no where.

The old Indian, who manned the gas pump, hadn't seemed to bat an eyelid at the two white people, who were beat to hell, still bleeding and stunk like a distillery. In fact Hannah had almost laughed when she had picked up an errant thought from the old man. He had just written them off as crazy white people doing crazy white people stuff.

As they fuelled up, Dean had guarded them looking out across the desert for either demonic smoke of dust trails that would herald someone coming down the road. Hannah had taken a few minutes, to clean the blood off his face with an antiseptic wipe she had fished out from the first aid kit in the glove compartment and hurriedly dressed the worst of the cuts and lacerations that covered his face and scalp.

She had waited until they were back on the road to attend to her own injuries and once she was done, Dean had advised her to get some sleep as they were probably going to have to take shifts with driving. She had been trying to take his advice for the past few hours, but she couldn't quite relax enough to get to sleep.

The cuts on her face and arms were still stinging which in itself couldn't really be described as painful, but it certainly was incessant. Hannah breathed in a deep sigh, as she readjusted in the seat again. She really had no right to complain.

Through her connection with Dean, she could feel that he was in significant pain, the fight with the sheriff had left him with some internal bleeding and a few fractured ribs and he was finding every single breath painful, but he had not said a word about it nor murmured one complaint, which made Hannah wonder just how much pain had Dean lived with throughout his life to give him such a high tolerance for it.

As she closed her eyes she tried willing her body to sleep again, mindful that at some point soon, Dean would need to get some rest himself. Hannah pulled her consciousness away from the pains and discomfort of her body and burrowed deeper into her psyche, hoping that distancing herself from her 'pain' might help her get some sleep.

Out of habit, her mind went to the small dark place where she kept the cell of the dark entity that was trapped deep within her. Her consciousness flowed like liquid over the wards and seals that held the thing confined, strengthening them and mending any that were in any way fading or damaged. It was a mental ritual she almost did unconsciously nowadays just because she had done it so much.

As she worked over the cell, the entity within didn't so much as even stir. It had been unusually quiet ever since the mirror incident and again Hannah's interest was peeked as to why. She had the feeling that it was sitting back cautiously seeing how things would turn out. That was very uncharacteristic, which made Hannah as nervous as if it were doing its normal plotting, scheming and taunting.

As she visualised herself in her mind, standing next to the cell, she imagined herself putting her hand on the wall of the cell, feeling the protective arcane energy that pulsed through it, but underneath she felt fear. Hannah had first hand knowledge of just how powerful and fearsome the entity within her could be and to know that it was now afraid, sparked her curiosity insatiably.

For the first time since she had trapped this darkness deep within her, Hannah considered initiating contact with it. She was half expecting this to be a trick, but she felt its fear and believed at least that was very genuine and knowing that it feared gave her some leverage she had never had before.

'What is it that has you cowering in there?" Hannah thought, still imagining her palm flat against the metal cell. She felt the entity shift within slightly, but it did not answer her immediately. In fact long minutes slipped by and she half expected the thing to ignore her completely.

'I do not cower' it finally said like a petulant child, its tone almost in direct antithesis to its sentiment 'I am merely biding my time'.

'Come now' Hannah replied injecting her mental voice with as much false bravado as she dared, the entity may be slightly withdrawn, but there was no use in provoking it. 'I just gave you one of the best opportunities you have ever had to be free and you did not take it. I was just curious to know why?'

The creature remained silent, and Hannah got the distinct impression that she had somehow hit on a nerve with it. The prospect of that felt utterly ridiculous, but she couldn't help but pick up on the unguarded feelings that were coming from the entity. It had never stayed silent before, it had never allowed her to bait it in anyway, always twisting her words, manipulating them for its own ends…until now.

'I am beginning to think that you have gotten comfortable here within me, like a prisoners so institutionalised they can not function in the outside world any longer.' Hannah mused. It was really a rhetorical thought, but she felt the darkness shift within its cell as if her words had somehow annoyed it.

'Think what you will, if it brings you comfort´ the entity replied more evenly, in a tone that Hannah recognised. 'But we both know that I spent centuries bound to that damn book and that did nothing to diminish the way I function now did it. Your family learnt that lesson well did they not?'

Hannah should have anticipated the anger that those simple words would conjure up within her, but the knotted heat in her belly still took her by surprise. It took her a moment to compose herself and she realised angrily, that the entities unusual behaviour had tricked her into a false sense of security.

'When we catch up with Sam' Hannah muttered more infuriated with herself than with the entity that she was spitting at 'The first thing I am going to get him to do is rip you from my head and devour you just like he did with that other demon.'

'I do not fear that Winchester whelp' the entity spat back and Hannah knew at once that it spoke the truth.

'The girl' Hannah said vocalising her thoughts, and realised without a doubt in her mind that she was right 'You are afraid of the demon that is within the little girl.'

'I fear nothing' the entity raged, but the louder it protested the more Hannah believed she was right.

Her entity recognised this demon, and that knowledge was more important to Hannah right now than anything else on this planet. If they knew who they were up against, then they may have a better chance of defeating it.

But if the darkness within her knew just how badly she wanted….no needed this information, it would never give it up. She would have to be very cunning in the way in which she approached this.

'If that were true then why didn't you seize the opportunity to destroy me just as you have threatened to do so often in the past?' Hannah asked, injecting her mental voice with just enough incredulity to prick the entities pride 'I am smart enough to know that you could have at any time when I was being attacked by those three?'

The entity was silent, making no witty remarks, nor loosing its temper as it was want to do more often than not. Its silence told Hannah more than any words that she was provoking its ire. Even though she still didn't understand why, she had recollections of the entity helping her during the events of the previous night.

It had fed her power, it had instructed Dean how to break the connection of the spell and while she was only guessing, she had the distinct feeling that it was the entity who had told Dean to put her drained body against the power saturated earth to heal.

'You needed me to live' she said with conviction, even though she was only guessing at the entities motives 'You needed me to live so that I could hide you from that demon.'

'I need nothing from you' the darkness all but spat at her 'I will crush you'

'Really?' said Hannah getting a perverse sense of satisfaction at finally being the antagonist in one of their exchanges 'Then why didn't you? If you are so intent of 'crushing' me then why did you help me?'

'It was the lesser of two evils' the entity said in a snarling whisper.

'If you chose me as the lesser of two evils then you must truly be afraid of the demon within that girl' Hannah made it a statement not a question and could almost feel the entity growling at her even as she spoke.

'I will exact my revenge when I choose' the entity hissed, its voice low and cold as it spoke in her mind 'Vanquishing you when you are weak is no victory. I shall wait to when you least expect it and rob you of everything you hold dear, so you will know true despair.'

Hannah laughed cruelly in her mind 'That sounds like a coward trying to excuse their cowardice behind bold words to me.'

'I am no coward' the entity raged 'I fear not you, nor the Winchester boy nor even Asbeel and I will destroy all of you before long!'

'Asbeel!' Hannah thought with a mental gasp…if such a thing were even possible.

Too late the entity recognised what Hannah's intention had been and furious with itself it withdrew its energy deep within the cell to regroup, to plan, to wait for its opportunity. Hannah spared it only a passing thought as she turned this new piece of information over in her mind.

Of course the thing manipulating Sam must have been Asbeel. As soon as the dark entity had spoken the name, Hannah had known that the profile of manipulation had fit. They had always assumed that they had exorcised Asbeel back in Rhode Island, but the demon had fooled them all and had been pulling Sam's strings all this time.

Hannah was furious with herself for not making the connection earlier, for not challenging their assumption that Asbeel had been banished back to hell. As she opened her eyes she felt shame welling up in her. She should have been able to see this long ago. If she had, she would have saved both Dean and Sam this well of grief and trouble that was pulling them apart. As it was, she wasn't sure if the current situation between the brothers could be redeemed in any way.

"Asbeel" she said aloud, opening her eyes and noticing that the sun was again sinking in the sky behind them. She must have been out for a while, it had only been early afternoon when she had started her conversation with her dark prisoner, but time had a way of distorting whenever she had dealings with it and more time than she had anticipated had gone by.

She looked at Dean and realised that they were travelling east now and were probably well into the desert roads of New Mexico.

"What did you say?" asked Dean watching her carefully.

"I just worked something out." Hannah said, loathed to share with Dean exactly where she had picked up her information. "The demon in that little girl is Asbeel."

"What?" Dean said looking slightly like Hannah had punched him in the guts hard.

"The demon with Sam is Asbeel."

"Wait a minute" Dean said looking at her in confusion "Didn't we already banish that bastard at the cottage?"

"We thought it was the demon inside of Pat, but there was no way of knowing for sure."

"So what makes you think that it is Asbeel now?"

"Think about it for a second." Hannah said working through her analysis rapidly in her mind. "You know Sam better than anyone, he wasn't with those girls under duress, he had chosen to be there wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah I guess" said Dean, seeming slightly distracted as he watched something in the rear view "But he is with them because he believes that they can help me."

"Which they have manipulated him into believing, and manipulation is what Asbeel is known for."

"Yeah" remarked Dean "But we are talking about demons here Doc. Asbeel doesn't exactly have exclusive rites on the whole manipulation thing."

"True" Hannah conceded "but consider it for a moment Dean; all of the targets that Sam has put you on to recently were all associated in some way to Beleth right? Thammuz, Rimmon all of whom are the lieutenants to Beleth." She paused letting the information sink in "If there was a power struggle left from Azazel's destruction what better weapon could there possible be to tip the balance of power, than a psychic hunter, and what better way to get him, than use his love for his brother." Hannah replied, trying to spell out the logic for him.

"Even if what you are saying is true Doc." Dean conceded his eyes shifting to the rear view again "There is no way of knowing that the other player in the mix is Asbeel."

"True enough" Hannah finally conceded knowing that there was no way of convincing Dean without revealing her shameful source "But Sam is a pretty smart guy, with a hell of a lot of power and a lifetime of experience. Only a master manipulator could use him, he'd see through anything less, at this point I am kind or praying that it is Asbeel, because we don't need another demon of that calibre in the mix."

"Damn it" said Dean suddenly flooring the gas launching Charlotte over the rough dirt road "Just hold that thought for a moment Doc, we got company."

"Where?" Hannah said turning in her seat to try and see out the back window, but all she could see was a great billowing cloud of dust.

"A pick-up, coming up hard behind us." Dean replied, his eyes shifting between the road in front of them and the rear view mirror. "I saw them a couple of miles back on a parallel road and I thought we might get lucky and they'd drive right by….although with our recent luck I don't know who was I trying to kid."

Hannah closed her eyes and let her extra senses flare out wide. Sure enough tugging at her senses was the oily feel of the demons about a mile or so behind them and getting closer.

"There are two of them." She said her eyes still firmly closed.

"I figured as much" Dean said relatively nonchalantly considering what was chasing them. "We picked up two smokers some where near the boarder while you were asleep, and when they figured out that Charlotte was protected, I thought they had given up. Looks like they went and found themselves two hosts for attempt number two."

Hannah listened to Dean's words with horror. She couldn't believe that demons had gotten so close to them and she hadn't felt them. Her focus had been so intent on her exchange with the darkness within her, that she had 'slept' right through an attack.

"Why didn't you wake me?" Hannah asked the mortification in her voice directed at herself rather than Dean.

"I needed you rested" said Dean, still watching in the rear view. "I'm going to have to tag out soon and if these two are any indication, the bastards after us are tenacious as they come, so we are going to have to keep going until we run out of road or out of gas, whichever comes first."

Hannah glanced nervously at the fuel gage and noticed that they only had about half a tank left.

"Dean what are we going to do?" she asked in an even voice. To stop herself from panicking, she had switched her mind to her safe analytical way of thinking and as was its way…her mind saw a problem and was keen to find a solution.

"Don't worry" said Dean "We'll think of something."


Day 275

Neenah – Alabama: 9:03pm

Dean stood by the window, his hand wrapped firmly around the barrel of his shot gun. He had been standing vigil since they had arrived at the 'pay by the hour' motel in nowhere Alabama. For ten days he and the Doc had been pursued relentlessly. For ten days they had evaded a steady stream of demons, moving constantly, never stopping for more than a few minutes at a time.

They had driven and slept in shifts, never getting more than a few hours at a time. They had subsided on truck stop and gas station food, anything that they could grab and run within the harried stressful times they had been forced to stop for fuel.

It had been a gruelling undignified marathon where they had gone unbathed for days, forced to take minute long toilet breaks by the side of the road. That was perhaps a small price to pay for their lives but it had hurt Dean to see someone as proud as the Doc, reduced to peeing by the side of the road.

She had never complained, not once…but he had seen the manner of their flight had broken her down in minute increments. She had tried as best as she was able to keep an air of dignity, to never show how being constantly on guard wore on her, but being stuck in a car with someone night and day for ten days straight, left Dean with a lot of time to see how it affected her.

They had been chased across four states, staying to the back roads and avoiding any cities wherever they could. When they had been pursued for more than a day and fought off the third set of demons to refuel, Dean had called Bobby and asked him to pick up Sam's trail if he could.

The old hunter hadn't questioned the request at all, seeming happy to help them given the circumstances. He had even offered them refuge at his home in South Dakota but at the time, Dean had never anticipated that they would have been followed for so long. In hindsight, South Dakota, probably would have been a good idea. Hell anything would have been better than the relentless pursuit that their lives had become.

By the fifth day, Dean and the Doc had toyed with the idea of driving to the warded safety of the Doc's cottage, but the presence of the grimoires at the cottage had added a level of risk to the idea that Dean was not prepared to take.

Dean had also been tempted to find a remote house or cabin somewhere and make a stand against the demons, but Hannah had done her best to talk him out of that, afraid that they would be overwhelmed by the sheer numbers that were coming after them. Even if they could find enough time to ward the entire place, all the demons would need to do is set fire to their shelter and it would have become like shooting fish in a barrel for the demonic forces.

Every stop for fuel or rest break had turned into a fight, every town or city revealed a new threat to them. With the exception of a punctured tyre, Charlotte had proven to be a faithful guardian to them, barrelling over every kind of road. But as Dean looked at her parked outside the window, much like her occupants, the old girl was looking a lot more worse for wear. She was caked in dirt and dust and no doubt the pristine paintjob she had a fortnight ago was probably scratched to hell by now.

Dean was almost tempted to get a bucket and cloth and go out to her now to wash her down, but his own rank odour and the aching atrophy of his limbs, tempted him to get his own shower first. Yesterday they had only had one demon after them, but today they had gone for the whole day unnoticed by any demons in the area and Dean was praying that the dark essence of the scrying magic had finally warn off of them.

They couldn't have gone on much longer anyway, so even if there was still a fight to be had, Dean preferred doing it in this tiny rail town in Alabama than drive one more mile in the car that had become both protector and prison.

When they had pulled in, despite her protests, Dean had insisted that the Doc take the first shower. If he could be sure that they were in the clear he probably would have just dived in with her, but he wasn't prepared to leave them unguarded and vulnerable. He had been on guard for so long now; he wasn't sure how to turn it off…he wasn't even sure if he should.

Behind him, he heard the water in the shower being turned off and he glanced over his shoulder in surprise. The Doc hadn't been in there for more than a few minutes, but apparently she was making it short so that he wouldn't be left waiting for long. At any other time Dean may have insisted that she have a long hot relaxing shower, but given that he was so desperate to wash more than a weeks worth of road grime from his body, he was grateful for her consideration.

"It's all yours" said Hannah quietly as she walked out of the steaming bathroom.

She had wrapped a small towel around herself and was using a second towel to rub the water from her thick hair. As Dean turned to look at her, he could see the subtle differences that had occurred over the past two weeks. She had lost a little more weight just from their appalling diet and as a result her cheekbones seemed just slightly sharper on her face.

There were dark circles under her eyes form lack of sleep, but he had seen the same thing reflected in his own face and this had been the first time in over a week that Dean had seen the Doc's hair down. She had chosen for practicality and comfort to tie it back off her face and he was surprised at how much he missed seeing it flowing around her. Overall, she had just developed a hardness in her look that had affected Dean more than he could rationally explain.

But the changes had gone so much more beyond the physical. A fortnight ago, the Doc would probably never have allowed Dean to see her wrapped in a towel her hair wet and her face clear of makeup. Even after their night together back in Utah, the Doc had risen early and presented Dean with her façade of perfection the next morning.

Now, after being with him constantly over the last ten days, the Doc had foregone all of her guarded pretences and let Dean really see her; 'warts and all' so to speak. As he watched her walk over to the window where he stood, he wondered if it had been a conscious choice on her part or just a matter of necessity.

Either way, there was an intimacy that had developed between them that could only have come from this shared trial and while he hated the nature of its development, Dean was hard pressed to be sorry about it. The Doc with her unwavering courage and her tenacity to endure had never seemed more beautiful to him than she did right at this moment.

"Go" she said gently, pulling the shotgun from his hand. "I'll keep an eye out for anything"

Dean wanted desperately to kiss her, but next to her fresh sent, he was very aware that he smelled somewhat like a sess pool. So he smiled at her, a warm smile that made the long stumble on her face itch.

Confident that the Doc would watch out for them, Dean hurried to the bathroom, shedding his clothes as he walked. He didn't stop to shave, he just started the water in the shower and unmindful of the temperature, stepped right in. As the water ran over him, Dean sighed in relief. Even the initial blast of cold water had felt good.

The cheap powderery motel soap had never smelt so good, as he picked up the tiny bar and started washing himself down. Dean vowed in that moment that he would never take for granted the simple pleasure of a warm shower ever again.

He stood under the spray for a while letting the water ease his aching body. He could have easily let the shower seduce him into a much longer stay, but as he washed his hair and face, the long bristle of the beard that was growing, reminded him how badly he also wanted to shave.

With a subtle sense of regret, Dean switched off the shower and stepped out into the small bathroom that was filled with a thick layer of steam. He patted his body try with a towel, then wrapped it around his hips as he fished out his razor and toothbrush.

As he lathered up his face with shaving cream, he had the oddest sense of being a little out of practice at this. A sensation that only seemed to grow as the razor bit into the long rough whiskers on his cheek. Rarely had he gone so long without taking the time to shave, but when he looked at his reflection in the mirror as he dragged the razor over his skin, he was suddenly reminded of someone…someone familiar but that he couldn't quite place.

The razor stilled for a moment as he studied his whiskered face and the dark circles under his eyes. Using his free hand to wipe the condensation from the mirror in front of him, Dean turned his face from side to side slightly; trying to pick who it was that he looked like. Without warning, realisation assaulted him …he looked like John Winchester.

Dean straightened, starring at his reflection in the mirror in amazement. Growing up, Dean prided himself on being like his father in personality, but he knew he bore a stronger resemblance in looks to his mother's family with his lighter colouring and hazel eyes. Sam had almost been the exact opposite, having John's dark hair and brown eyes but Mary's more sensative nature.

Looking at himself now, Dean could hardly get past the resemblance, and the more that he studied it the more he realised that it was less about physical features and more about an overall aesthetic.

John Winchester had always had a hard edge to his face, like he skipped every second meal to keep himself hungry and sharp. There had been a watchfulness to his eyes, as much a quality of the wrinkles and folds around them as the eyes themselves and his constant unkempt beard reminded Dean of the savage nature that his father could call on, a reminder that he was as much a predator as the things he hunted.

He saw that now in his own face, a shocking reflection of what this trial had done to him. Had John Winchester felt the same cloying feeling of being permanently on guard? Had he been weighed down with the constant fear and concern that he felt for his loved ones and the complete and total powerlessness that went with it? Was his father pursued as tenaciously by his personal demons as Dean had been by actual ones? Was it this that gave them the same look now…this common experience that varied in detail not nature?

Dean rinsed out his razor as those thoughts tumble chaotically around in his mind. Like a window cleaner, who was stripping back to dirt to create a clear vision, Dean continued to remove his beard, looking for the face he knew underneath, trying to see if this trial had truly changed him or if it was just an optical illusion.

As he bent over the sink to rinse the last of the shaving cream off his face, Dean watched himself carefully. Yes…it was the face he recognised, but just like the Doc's, it had changed in a very subtle way. The flippant 'devil may care' person that he had been was well and truly gone now. Perhaps, just like the Doc, it had been a carefully created façade that necessity had forced him to drop.

As Dean wiped his face on his towel, he felt the fatigue that he had been fighting for days begin to creep up on him. His body felt entirely too heavy, his thoughts felt too heavy, his responsibilities all felt far too heavy and he just wanted to sleep for a bit. He felt that he and the Doc deserved it after all they had been through. Felt that he needed a breather before the bell rang again and he had to face the next round that life was going to serve up.

Dean moved back into the main part of the room. The Doc had switched on a small lamp on the far side of the room; enough to help them move around safely, not enough to affect her ability to see out into the dark night. The gentle light silhouetted her against the windows and Dean could see that she stood vigilantly there, the butt of the gun resting against her thigh.

She had changed from the towel into a soft cotton singlet and a plain pair of boy cut briefs. Dean noticed that she had strategically piled a set of clothes and shoes by the end of the bed in case they needed to make a fast get away, but he took heart in the fact that she felt safe enough not to be fully clothed.

"We all clear?" he asked moving up behind her to look out the window into the darkness.

"It seems so" she replied quietly looking up at his freshly shaven face "I can't feel anything in the near vicinity, so I think we should be good…at least for the time being."

"Why don't you get some sleep Doc" he said touching the damp fall of her hair "I'll keep and eye out for a while and make sure we're safe."

"Dean" Hannah said in mild protest, stepping closer to his body so that she could fee the heat rising from his skin. "If anyone should get some sleep it's you. You did the lion's share of the driving and I am sure that you haven't slept more than two hours together for the last fortnight. You should really take this opportunity to rest."

"Looking tired am I?" Dean joked, moving his body slightly closer so that he could feel the whispered touch of her skin against his own.

"No…not really" Hannah replied, touching her fingers to his cheek. "But I can feel it in you."

She looked at him with such sincere concern that it filled him with both joy and a strange discomfort at the intensity of his response to it. The only person who had ever cared enough about him to ever feel concern was Sam. It used to bother him when Sam hovered over him or looked at him with those big doe eyes of his, but he had to confess that when Sam wasn't around…he did miss it.

"Trust me" Hannah said as she ran her finger over his face "I'll watch over us."

When Dean would have argued that it wasn't an issue of trust, the Doc put a finger up to his lips effectively silencing him before he could respond.

"You try to shield me and protect me from everything Dean." she said quietly, her eyes gentle but firm "Let me do this for you…look out for you….just this once."

Dean couldn't answer her, he wasn't sure if he could trust his voice with the knot of emotion that was lodged firmly in his throat. So he nodded, the slightest of motions, but it was enough to satisfy the Doc. She smiled at him and then gave him a slight push towards the bed.

He didn't fight or hesitate at all, shifting his weight and moving towards the bed. He pulled back the covers on the small motel bed and let the towel that was around his hips fall to the floor, not bothering to try and find a pair of boxers to sleep in.

It felt so good to stretch out, to feel the clean linen of the sheets against his skin, to rest his head against the softness of the pillow…and it felt good to have someone watching out for him.

He kept his attention on the opposite side of the motel room, but he could feel the Doc's eyes on him as she made certain that he was comfortable. Then he heard her turn back to the window and he closed his eyes, letting the fatigue that was clawing at him pull him under.