Newport - Rhode Island 10:21pm

Hannah sat on the edge of her bed feeling sore and sorry for herself. It has taken them a couple of hours to attend to the injuries of the five poor souls who had been dragged into this horrible war. Although that seemed a trivial thing next to trying to explain to them exactly what had happened to them.

The trucker had been exactly what he appeared, a truck driver from Arizona. He turned out to be a gentle giant of a man named Joel Grayson. The last thing that he remembered was stopping at a truck stop in Pennsylvania and then his memory was patchy until he found himself of Hannah's lawn.

Soccer mom was a woman named Helen Marian, who was a paediatrician from New Jersey. She was a calm sensible woman, who in the light of everything that had happened, seemed able to maintain her composure. In some respects it was a godsend that she was there because her medical training had proven invaluable, although Hannah suspected that if they were to ask Helen her sentiments on the issue, she would probably not agree.

One of the first things Helen had to do, was set the nose of Mario Panora, who, when not possessed by a demon, was an accountant for a large financial company in New York. Mario had been a survivor of the World Trade Centre and he had that look to him, where he seemed to understand how to cope with a crisis. He had stoically heard what had happened to them, then crossing himself, he had knelt on the floor and he had begun to pray. Hannah had almost envied the comfort that it seemed to bring him and resisted the temptation to go and kneel beside him.

Emily Lewis had been studying for her midterms in the library at Harvard before she woke up on the lawn surrounded by strangers. Emily had trouble remembering anything that had occurred to her since her last memory in the library, but Hannah suspected that it would probably come back to her in time. Of all of the people, Emily was not taking the news especially well, trying desperately to deny what had happened to them all. She had broken down in tears and Mario had comforted her, speaking to her in the calming voice that one would used to sooth a small animal or a child.

The last of the victims was the business man from Boston who had been the most ravaged by his demon. For the first hour he had slipped in and out of consciousness and Helen had been forced to keep a close eye on him. She had made noise that they needed to get him to a hospital, but quickly rethought that plan as she considered how their story sounded.

As it turned out he was no businessman at all, but a Detective with the Boston Police Department by the name of Patrick Shaughnessy. When he had regained some measure of consciousness, Patrick had been told exactly what the others had, and he had nodded in understanding, his eyes seeming hollow and rimmed with heavy bruising.

When he spoke, his speech started off slurred like he was drunk or had suffered some kind of stroke, but he had managed to articulate to them, that he had been conscious the whole time, but unable to do anything to prevent the beast controlling him.

While wounds were tended, Hannah had made cups of tea and phone calls informing loved ones about the whereabouts of their missing, spouse, partner, daughter or son. She had been evasive on the phone, merely letting the person know that their loved one was alright and giving them a number where they could be reached. For her trouble, she had copped and earful of abuse from the worried party on the other end of the phone, but she had tried to empathise with their distress and not take it too much to heart.

After Adam's wounds had been tended, he had gone outside to deal with the body of the 'chosen'. It had been a silent agreement between Adam, Hannah, Dean and Sam that none of them would discuss the demise of the 'chosen' with their five new guests, and in line with that agreement, Adam had surreptitiously disappeared.

Adam had reappeared a few hours later, with and arm load of military style camp beds and a meaningful look on his face. They had moved Pat, up to the room where Dean had slept the night before and Helen, being concerned for him, had offered to sleep in there with him on one of the camp beds.

They decided to put Emily in the room where Mike had slept, but she had been too frightened to stay by herself, so both Mario and Joel had offered to stay in there with her. It had started out where Emily was in the bed, and the two men had made up camp beds, but Joel had such a difficult time fitting in to his, that Emily had suggested that they swap.

Adam decided that he preferred to sleep downstairs, so that he could keep and eye on the perimeter and as soon as everyone had been bedded down Sam had disappeared into the room where he was staying, needing some breathing space and some time to think.

Hannah looked up as she heard a gentle knock at her door. Dean opened it just a fraction and stuck his head around smiling at her. His hair was damp from the shower and he had a fresh set of clothes on. His clean scent floated into the room and Hannah couldn't help breathing it in deeply. It was familiar and comforting in a way she didn't expect.

"I just wanted to check on you." said Dean, almost apologetically "You've been running around after everyone else all night, but I just realised that no one had looked after you."

"I'm alright." Hannah lied.

She had told the same lie to Adam, when he had tried to get her to slow down. She had told it again to Helen, who had pestered her to have her wounds cleaned. She had even said it to Sam who had told her to take a break. But it was a lie she needed to believe in, so she kept telling it. If she had stopped and allowed any of them to care for her, the enormity of what had happened tonight would be realised and she just didn't have the strength at the moment to deal with it.

Dean raised one eyebrow in amusement. "Bullshit." he said flatly moving into the room and closing the door behind him.

Hannah looked at him in wide eyed surprise "Excuse me?"

"I said that's bullshit" replied Dean walking over to her. "You look like you've been in a fight with a wild animal Doc, nobody is alright after that…nobody" he said meaningfully.

Hannah seemed to sag in the middle, she was so exhausted she didn't really want to have to deal with this right now.

"Dean" she said pleadingly "I just need to sleep."

"Doc" he retorted in a stern voice "If we don't clean up all those cuts, by tomorrow they will be one big infected mess"

"Trust me" he said with a lopsided grin "I speak from experience."

Hannah smiled at him and allowed him to pull her to her feet. As he grabbed hold of her hand, she flinched gasping in pain, drawing Dean's attention to he burnt palms. Some of the blisters had burst, leaving, weeping sores on her palm and the pads of her fingers.

"Doc, how did this…." Dean didn't need to ask. The look of agony on her face and her injuries told him exactly how she had gotten these burns.

He swallowed hard, inspecting every inch of her palms and fingers to assess the extent of the damage. It must have been excruciating, but the Doc wasn't complaining. In fact she hadn't said a word about it all evening. Dean locked eyes with her, in a promise that he was going to look after her.

"Let's get you cleaned up" he said looking towards the bathroom. "You got a first aid kit in there?"

Hannah nodded and he led her, holding gently to her wrist to the bathroom. Dean folded the toilet seat down and sat Hannah upon on it, then rummaged through her medicine cabinet until he had found the first aid kit, antiseptic and burn cream, lining up each on the basin.

Dean looked down at her, she looked tired and forlorn, but there was still an iron will behind her and as dishevelled as she was, she held a quiet air of dignity.

"Ok Doc" said Dean trying to sound clinical "I'm going to need to see the damage, so you'll need to take off your shirt and pants."

Dean saw Hannah baulk for a second, but to he credit, she recovered quickly. She started to try and undo the buttons on her blouse, but her fingers were so badly burnt that they lacked dexterity and fine motor function. Dean watched her fumble with it twice; her teeth gritted as pain shot through her, until he grabbed her wrists, made her stand and started in on the buttons himself.

Dean had done this dozens of times with other women, but somehow doing it now to the Doc made him nervous. His palms sweated a little and he deliberately didn't make eye contact with her, focusing on the job at hand. Once he had undone all of the buttons, Dean slipped the shirt from Hannah's shoulders.

He had known that she had been cut up pretty badly, but her tattered shirt had hidden the full extent of the damage. Her back and shoulders look liked she had been flayed and there were scratches all along her arms, defensive wounds most likely. She had protected her face and chest reasonable well, but Dean could see one long wound, that had sliced through the lacey fabric of her bra.

Dean instructed Hannah to hold on to he shoulders as he undid her pants and slipped them from her hips. This revealed other long scratches, but the majority seemed to have been on her upper body.

Under different circumstances, Dean may have found removing the Doc's clothes a real turn on, but now all he saw where the long welts and scratches across her body, and his body responded with sympathetic pain.

Dean spread a towel on the toilet seat and had Hannah sit down again, this time facing away from him. He filled the basin up with warm water and antiseptic and dipped one of her cotton makeup pads into it. With infinite care he touched the cotton to her wound, but he still heard her sharp intake of breath as the antiseptic bit into the open flesh.

Watching the pain that this was causing, Dean decided that the best thing to do was get it done quickly, kind of like the band-aid philosophy. So he increased his pace, trying to tune out the sharp intakes of breath and the occasional tension in the Doc's body. He tried working around her white lacey bra, but it got to the point where it was just and in impediment he didn't need, so without preamble, he passed Hannah a towel for modesty, then undid the catch before she could argue.

He cleaned all the wounds on her back, and with a kind of self imposed clinical detachment, he studied the Doc's body. Her skin appeared to be much like the skin on her face, soft and velvety to the touch. There were no tan lines anywhere on her, the creamy colour of her skin being even all over. She was bustier that he had imagined, her clothes tending to play down the swell of her breasts and her waist was narrow flaring out into lush rounded curves at her hip.

Once her back was finished, Dean made her stand so he could clean the long gashes on her legs, then he made her sit again, this time facing him. He knelt in front of her, pulling one arm away from where she clutched the bath towel to her chest, he began to clean the wounds on it. He started gently with her hands and then he worked his way down to her shoulders. He deliberately avoided making eye contact with her, he could feel how much Hannah hated being seen to be this vulnerable, so he tried to minimise her discomfort by not giving her misplaced sympathy.

Then he allowed her to change the grip on her towel and pulled out the other arm to repeat the process. The whole time, Dean chattered on, not consciously speaking, but anecdotes about his childhood and the way their father had tended his wounds seemed to bypass his brain and just fall from his lips. He had the sense that Hannah was smiling, but he didn't look up to see, he just continued on with his job.

Finally he cleaned the cut along her breast, dutifully ignoring the soft flesh that he touched and he finished with the deep gash that had been hidden in her hairline, he hadn't seen it earlier, but closer inspection had revealed it. Her wounds looked angry and red, but at least he knew that they were all clean. Luckily none of them were deep enough to warrant stiches, but they would still be sore for days.

Finally, Dean rubbed burn cream on Hannah's hands, taking extra care to be gentle. He bound them with burn dressing and gauze from the first aid kit, wrapping her hands like she was a mummy from some bad 50's monster movie.

Leading her out into the bedroom, Dean helped Hannah into a soft cotton night dress. He was gifted briefly with a flash of her soft round breasts as she let the bath towel drop away, and for the first time that evening, his groin stirred to life. Her breasts were beautiful, large and firm covered in velvety skin with rose coloured nipples.

Dean bent down and picked up the bath towel folding it and returning it to the bathroom. The action gave him something to distract himself and in the privacy of the bathroom, he put the heel of his hand on his betraying body part, thinking of baseball and car specifications.

When he returned to the bedroom, he saw that Hannah had crawled into bed and she was watching him with fatigued eyes.

"I notice that you gave up your room." said Hannah her voice weary "Where were you planning on sleeping?"

Dean cocked his eyebrow, somewhat surprised by the question.

"To be honest I hadn't thought about it." he said "I guess I'll just set up one of those camp beds in Sam's room of something."

Hannah watched him through slowly blinking eyes "Don't sleep on a camp bed, when you don't have to. This bed is big enough for both of us and I don't think I snore."

Dean was slightly taken back by her offer, but he was also grateful, his body was sore and the prospect of sleeping on a camp bed was singularly unappealing.

"Are you sure?" he asked, wanting to make certain Hannah was happy about this arrangement and not just being polite.

"To be honest" she said her eyelids falling heavily over her eyes "I'd be grateful for the company."

Dean smiled at her, not one of his cocky grins, but a smile of genuine appreciation. It cost her to say that to him, but it was honest and he felt slightly humbled by that. He walked around the other side of the bed, pulled his boots and socks off, slipped his shirt from his shoulders and stretched out next to her in just his jeans and t-shirt.

Normally he would have slept in his boxers, but it didn't seem quite right to do that. He didn't get under the covers with her for the same reason, instead choosing to just lie on top of the covers feeling her next to him on the bed. Hannah touched the base of her lamp, plunging the room into darkness, and while she stayed lying on her side, she was conscious of Dean's warmth emanating behind her, and her body moved towards it.

Exhaustion pulled Hannah quickly into sleep, but Dean stayed awake for a little while, listening to the sound of the ocean outside. It lulled him and soothed him, despite the events of the day, and he understood, with the kind of understanding that starts in the bones, why Hannah loved this place so much.

Sam lay stretched out on the bed. While he could feel the fatigue in his body, his mind whirred like an industrial machine, picking up the experiences that he had throughout the day, pushing them about in his head and them returning them to their starting position, where the whole cycle started again.

He wanted to sleep and dream of his mother, but sleep seemed unlikely. He felt so alone, disconnected from everyone around him. He had walked among them and talked with everyone, putting the right amount of sympathy into his voice, but to be honest he felt nothing for them. He wanted to, he just didn't. The only thing that sparked anything next to a genuine emotion was the delight he had experienced in increasing his knowledge about his gifts.

He thought back over his new found knowledge, going over it to galvanise it in his memory. Absently he wondered if Asbeel had been among the demons that he had banished. They had not been able to identify the demon, and Sam hoped that Asbeel had been among them, but he seriously doubted it. His research had presented Asbeel as being much more astute and while the attack this evening had been harsh, it was hardly military genius.

It felt like a test, the increasing pressure on a flexed muscle just to see how much it could take, even the idea that they were after the grimoires seemed to be pretence. The 'chosen' could have easily tried to get into the house through the garage while they were fighting, but he hadn't. He had watched on, orchestrating things from the side line as if he truly had not known what the true objective was.

Sam rolled over trying to get comfortable in the bed. He listened to the sound of the ocean and the cry of gulls on some distant outcropping of land. Tomorrow he would convince Dean to leave. He wanted to be away from this place. In the back of his mind he could still feel Hannah's energy smothering and channelling his. He understood why she felt she needed to do it, but that she could do it made him hate her just a little and Sam had only known hate once before…he had hated the yellow eyed demon.

Dean woke up to a strange buzzing sound. He looked around groggily, finding himself alone in the bed, with a blanket draped over him. Again he felt the insistent buzzing a realised it was the cell phone he hadn't taken from his pocket, before he had gone to sleep.

Dean pulled the phone out, looking down at the small display to see Bobby's name flashing urgently at him.

"Bobby." he said, trying to shake the sleep from his voice.

"So you're still in the land of the living." said the gruff voice on the other end of the line.

"For now" Dean replied rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

He related to Bobby what had happened the previous day, and in kind Bobby updated him on what he and Ellen had been working on. The issue seemed to be that there were a huge number of supernatural events occurring and Bobby and Ellen just couldn't be in all the places that they needed to be.

Throughout the conversation it became increasingly apparent to Dean that they would have to leave and soon. Dean hated the idea of leaving the grimoires unprotected, so he decided he would have to discuss options with Adam before he left. It was going to take them a couple of days to get back to Wyoming and pick up the Impala and Bobby had told him of a confirmed possession in Montana that neither he nor Ellen could assist with.

Dean bid farewell to the older hunter promising to keep in touch then snapped the phone shut with finality and went to the bathroom to relieve his aching bladder. Dean pulled on his boots, but left his shirt off, the morning was warm enough without it and he was eager to talk to Sam, Adam and Hannah. He wasn't looking forward to talking to Hannah. For some reason it felt like he was leaving her behind to clean up the mess and he just didn't feel right about it. Unfortunately he and Sam just did not have the luxury of staying in any one place too long.

Dean went out and knocked on the door of Sam's room. Sam opened it and looked out. He was still wet from the shower and a towel hugged his waste.

"We need to go" Dean said looking meaningfully at his brother "today."

A brief look of surprise crossed Sam's features, but he simply nodded.

"I'll be ready" he said quietly, then closed the door on his brother.

Dean trotted down the stairs and found Adam in the kitchen making coffee. The old Marine offered Dean a mug that he gratefully accepted. Adam was a frank man who required no preamble so Dean decided to hit him with the facts straight up.

"Sam and I have to leave" he said sliding onto one of the stools by the breakfast counter. "I've been told that there is trouble in Montana and Sam and I are the only available hunters to deal with it."

Adam fixed him with a steely look, it held no hostility, but it was calculating. "I understand" he said finally and Dean knew with certainty that he did.

"We need to find some more ways to protect the grimoires. I think the immediate threat is over, but I would bet money on the fact that one of those dirty bastard will make another try for them."

Adam nodded as Dean spoke "I've been thinking about that myself" he said in his whiskey and cigarettes voice. "There are a couple of things we can do to improve the security of the property and I also know of a group of ex-marines who run a private security firm. I thought about bringing them in."

Adam held Dean's eye with a promise that he would do anything that was required now that he understood the stakes. "They're good men. I trained a few of them and I trust them."

Dean smiled at the older man as if that were not even in question. "What would you tell them?"

Adam smiled ruefully at Dean taking a sip of his coffee "I hadn't quite worked that one out yet, but I'll think of something."

"Just remember" Dean said "If they get involved this is like the Mafia – once in…never out."

"I'll make sure that they make an educated choice" said Adam his voice emphatic.

Dean smiled at the marine. He hadn't known the man for very long, but he had genuine affection for the old guy and after seeing him in action last night, he had faith that he could keep Hannah and the grimoires safe. Thinking of Hannah made him feel slightly sick and he looked around hoping to spot her.

"Any idea where the Doc might be?"

Adam looked at him over the edge of his mug "Down in her study I expect."

"Thanks" said Dean slipping off the stool and heading for the stairs, the mug nursed loosely in his hand.

Dean trotted down the stairs and crossed the large entertaining area over to Doc's study. He walked on quiet feet as he neared it, looking tentatively through the door. Hannah sat at the piano in much the same way as he had found her yesterday, but the instrument lay silent. She saw Dean watching her from the door and smiled at him, welcoming yet somehow sad.

"I'm a creature of habit." she said almost apologetically "When I'm home I usually practice for an hour in the morning once I get up. This morning I just found myself sitting here, even though I can't practice." As if to prove the point she held up the two bandage hands that Dean had dressed the night before.

"I didn't realise how much I'd miss it." she said wistfully.

"You'll be back at it in no time Doc." Dean said but his enthusiasm felt false to him, so he could only imagine what she heard.

She smiled and beckoned for him to join her on the piano stool. "What's on your mind Dean?" she said gently resting her bandaged fingers on the black and ivory keys.

Dean wasn't surprised that she had sensed that something was on his mind. He had been around her enough to start getting used to her intuition. He didn't know quite what to say, so staying true to his philosophy; he tried to make it quite like a band aid.

"Sam and I have to leave." he paused for a moment trying to read her reaction "Today."

Hannah smiled keeping her eyes on her fingers. "I had an inkling." she said quietly, her voice even.

"I thought you'd be angry." said Dean in surprise watching her closely.

Her eyes turned to his in genuine amusement and she smiled at him to pacify his fears. "Why would you think that? I always knew that you wouldn't be able to stay."

Dean squirmed under her scrutiny "I don't know?" he said honestly "I kind of feel bad leaving you with a house full of people and vault full of grimoires."

Hannah chucked, deep in her throat. It was a warm sound and eased the ache that had started to grow in the middle of his chest.

"Don't worry about that." she said "Adam can help me and I have a feeling that some of those people upstairs, their part in this hasn't quite finished either."

Dean watched Hannah as she spoke, her eyes flashed quicksilver and she seemed to be looking at some far away point like she could see some strange thing on the horizon that he couldn't possibly fathom. She shook her head slightly as if to dismiss a strange imagining and then returned her gaze to his.

"I've called in a favour." she said her rich voice curling around Dean like smoke "Although I'm not sure that you are going to thank me for it." There was a hint of humour in her eyes and Dean cocked an eyebrow in intrigue.

"I know a family down the road. I wrote a recommendation for their daughter to get into Harvard and they owed me one. Their private jet is waiting for you at the airport whenever you need it. It'll fly you back to Wyoming"

Dean swallowed hard, while the prospect of flying didn't exactly fill him with joy, it would get them back in the game all the faster.

"I know you're probably eager to get back to Errol." said Hannah with a smile that lifted her full lip in mischief.

"Wait a minute, whose Er…" realisation came crashing down on Dean and he sat up indignantly. "Errol! You named my car Errol?"

Hannah's smile broadened. "It's only reasonable, it's sleek dark and handsome just like Errol Flynn; a true classic."

Dean baulked at her explanation "I'm not calling my car Errol" he stated emphatically.

"You" said Hannah with gentle mocking in her voice "don't have to."

Dean looked at her, trying to keep the irritation on his face, but failing miserably as her contagious humour took hold.

"Will you fly back with us?" he said, before he had even registered that he was speaking.

"No." Hannah said quietly.

"What will you do about Charlotte?" Dean asked draining the remainder of his coffee from its cup.

"I've already arranged for someone to drive her home. Besides" she said studying her hands, "I'd be a bit useless in that regard at the moment."

Dean watched Hannah closely. Her words had not been spoken in self pity, but more a factual account. She seemed to accept the fact that she was beaten up and it didn't seem to bother her, but still Dean felt something in her, dwelling just beneath surface. It was cleverly masked, but there none the less.

"When do you need to leave?" she asked, her eyes betraying her disappointment while her words were spoken matter-of-factly.

Dean understood now what he felt from the Doc. While Hannah had realised that they had to leave and had accepted the need as fact, it didn't mean that she was particularly happy about it, and somewhere deep in his chest, Dean felt a heat unfurl at the knowledge.

"I need to grab a shower" he said working hard to keep the regret from his voice "Then we'll probably hit the road."

Hannah smiled, raising herself off the piano stool "Well I'll go and start on some breakfast so you don't leave on an empty stomach."

Dean stood also "Will you be able to manage that with your hands?"

Hannah turned on Dean with a smile so brilliant it that nearly robbed him of breath "I wasn't going to make it, I was just going to bark a few orders at Adam and find out what else he had learnt from Martha."

Dean returned her smile and shook his head slightly as he followed her out of the room.

Breakfast had been a strange strained affair. Sam had been introverted and sullen, giving Hannah a wide berth. Adam had fussed over Hannah insisting on cutting up her food for her, although Hannah had put her foot down when he wanted to feed her the neatly segmented hotcakes.

Dean had watched them all and felt a strange melancholy settle on him. He would miss this place, in spite of the fact that he had only been here a day or two. Once breakfast was finished, Adam and Hannah had walked the brothers to the truck. Adam had shaken both their hands and then taken two very deliberate steps back.

Hannah had said farewell to Sam, it was a formal gesture where both seemed to keep their distance. And as Sam walked around the truck to get in the passenger's seat, Dean had stood face to face with Hannah unsure of what to do or say. Thankfully Hannah had made the discussion for him, reaching out and pulling him in a close embrace.

He had felt her lips on his cheek and then her words in her in his ear, spoken for him and him alone.

"Take care of yourself" she had whispered, he breath hot against his neck "Let us know how you're doing from time to time ok."

"I'll stay in touch." Dean had promised, then he had released her from the embrace and climbed into the truck.

As he pulled down the driveway and over the ward, he had looked back in the rear-view mirror to see that Hannah hadn't moved. She didn't wave of anything, she just stood, tall and proud, watching them leave. She was beautiful in her solitary and Dean would keep the image with him for a long time to come.

THE END - The War Stories Saga will continue soon with "Something Wicked This Way Comes"...Thanks for reading.