Not Your Prince Charming

by the moon of my life

Hannah Singer was five years old when she met the Winchesters and has been family friends since. She tried and failed not to fall in love with Dean at fourteen. Now twenty-two and fresh out of college, Hannah joins the boys on their search for their elusive father. She doesn't expect Dean to reciprocate her feelings, but Dean is never to be expected. / DISCONTINUED

21. Salvation in the Devil's Trap

A/N: Last chapter was intense, as things usually tend to be when John shows up. This chapter will combine the last two episodes of season one, hence the combination of the episode titles. Again, thank you to the new followers for checking out my little fic and those for being around since the beginning.

Lastly, special thanks to bookdragonslayer, AxidentlGoddess, bjq, TwoHeartedMarauder, Jez94, Imagination in Overdrive, PrettyInPeach, mschanyeol, Lt-Spork89, LonelyStargazer, miss stoneheart, JenRiley16, megladon1616, kbeautimous, Micky-Moo, The-Effulgent-One, painted heart, , DianaBlack27, Patting-Patches, Emjeezels, Erikaahhh, alise, LovelyFandomLover, ToxieDoxie, annabethnotannie, trinity16, Cristiina, thaovy203, and two guests for the reviews.

Anyways, please review and enjoy the chapter.

21.

Salvation in the Devil's Trap

It was already dark outside by the time Jo reached Colorado. Hannah didn't think Jo would be willing to drive six hours to pick up her of all people, but she was glad nonetheless. She was more relieved that she wouldn't have to wait another day in a room next door to the Winchesters. Sam had taken her room key before he left earlier, so that helped her avoid the awkwardness of seeing Dean and John again. Anger flared inside her, but Hannah stomped it down.

"I'm surprised you're still driving around this bucket," she remarked, sliding into the passenger seat after placing her things in the backseat.

"Screw you. It's not like I can afford anything better," Jo said, rolling her brown eyes.

"Jo, this thing is a death trap," Hannah said. She studied the younger girl's face, one she hadn't seen in years. The most noticeable thing about her was the blonde hair. When had she dyed it? Had she done it while in college? "I like your hair."

Surprise flitted her pale features. "You do?" Jo asked, tugging on a wavy lock.

Hannah nodded. "It suits you," she replied, settling in her seat. She looked out her window to Sam's motel room. Just go home echoed harshly in her head. "Let's go."

The car jerked forward and sped out of the parking lot. Jo's driving reminded Hannah of… she squeezed her seat belt, so hard her fingernails dug into her palm. Why did everything come back to him? She didn't want to think about him. Dean had made it clear he didn't consider her a worthy hunter. The anger welled up in her again, rushing through her veins. Hannah breathed in slowly, trying to keep the rage from overwhelming her. Her father told her she felt emotions intensely, which was why she cried a lot according to him, but never had anyone made Hannah so furious… and of course it had to be Dean.

"So, how's school?" Hannah asked, when she was sure her anger was stabilized.

"I dropped out," Jo replied, her tone so flippant it took Hannah a minute for her to grasp her words.

"Wha—when—why?" Hannah spluttered.

Jo shrugged. "It just wasn't for me. Everyone thought I was a freak cause I owned a knife collection," she explained, then smirked. "And not everyone's a nerd like you."

Sam is, thought Hannah, but didn't voice it. Jo didn't know who the Winchesters were. "Was your mom pissed?" she asked instead.

"She tried to make me go back for like, a minute, then got over it. Now I just bartend at the Roadhouse," Jo answered, reaching over to fiddle with the radio. She left it on a station playing soft rock. "What are you even doing out here? I thought you'd be in Maryland or home, not Colorado."

Hannah touched the small hamsa amulet around her neck, almost forgetting it was there. She guessed she hadn't been furious enough to throw Dean's gift back in his face. Struggling to form words, Hannah inhaled sharply before saying slowly, "I've been hunting."

"Are you fucking with me?" Jo asked, widening her eyes. When Hannah shook her head, she laughed. "I thought your dad didn't want you hunting."

"He didn't—still doesn't. I just… persuaded him."

"Did you cry?"

"I didn't cry."

"You didn't hunt alone, did you?"

"My old friend Dean called me. His dad's John Winchester. Your mom might've heard of him. John went missing, so Dean asked if I could help find him. I said yes, we went to California to ask his brother Sam to come with us. We've been hunting things while looking for John."

If she weren't driving, Hannah was certain Jo would be gawking at her.

"But… we got in a fight—Dean and me. That's why I called you," Hannah continued, slumping in her seat.

"Why'd you two get into a fight?" she questioned.

Revisiting the fight from only hours ago wasn't something Hannah was eager to discuss, but Jo had driven six hours to pick her up, so she supposed the girl deserved answers.

"When I was seventeen, Dean took me out on my first hunt. There was a vampire and… it went bad. We weren't prepared. It got away and… I got hurt," Hannah told her. Hurt was an understatement. "Because I got hurt, no one thinks I should be a hunter. You should have seen my dad, Jo, he looked ready to lock me in my old room for just asking if I could hunt with Dean again. But Dean's dad really doesn't want me around." Hannah inhaled sharply. "I understand, but I'm not seventeen anymore. I can handle myself. We hunted vampires and I killed one yesterday."

Jo let out a disbelieving laugh. "I never took you for a fighter, Singer. And Dean's dad still wants you to hang back?"

Hannah sat up. "Thank you! That's exactly what I'm saying! Then Dean just… he…" Fury and pain were a whirlwind in her mind. Jo jumped in her seat when Hannah kicked the dashboard. "He didn't defend me. Sam did, which I'm thankful for, but Dean…"

Tears pricked her eyes, and Hannah hastily blinked them back. She didn't want to cry again. She slumped in her seat again, crossing her arms.

"You must really like this guy," Jo remarked, when her silence lingered.

"What makes you say that?" Hannah asked, snapping her head in Jo's direction.

"Just the way you talk about him," she said, shrugging. Hannah waited for her add more, but she didn't. Nothing was said for a while, just them listening to the radio. Then, when they were waiting for the light to change, Jo turned to Hannah and asked, "You wanna hunt something?"

She widened her eyes and released a startled laugh. "What?"

"Yeah, why the hell not? If you could go around killing monsters, then why shouldn't I?" Jo questioned.

She made a good point. Ellen refused for Jo to take on the hunting lifestyle like her and her late father. Bobby had been the same, but Hannah had coaxed him into letting her go with Dean to California. She had a bachelor's degree in nursing. What kind of hunter wouldn't want her as a partner? That and she was an adult now and could make her own decisions. At least her father recognized that.

"What would we even hunt?" Hannah asked curiously.

"There's a shapeshifter back in Nebraska," Jo revealed. She shifted in her seat and the bravado she normally wore faltered. "I wanna see what hunting's actually like, Hannah, and who better to have my back than you?"

Hannah widened her eyes. Had Jo ever expressed her trust in her before? It was unexpected from Jo of all people, but her words only reminded Hannah of Dean and John. They didn't trust her. Dean knew her longer and still didn't, but Jo did. She gave a tremulous smile and unbuckled her seat belt before launching forward to hug her. Jo flinched and wriggled out of her hold.

"So, is that a yes?" Jo asked.

Her first experience with a shapeshifter hadn't gone well, but at least that day Dean admitted he trusted her above most people. She supposed he had been lying that day, yet… Hannah wanted to hunt a monster. She wanted to be the one to stop it from further hurting people, and she wanted something to take her mind off Dean. Hannah was a hunter.

"Let's go hunt ourselves a shapeshifter," Hannah finally said.

Jo grinned.

---

One day had passed since Hannah left when it was decided they would head to Salvation, Iowa for the demon. John found signs that the demon was there, preparing to burn another mother to death in the room of their six-month old child. They would have to pass through Nebraska, where Hannah was with a friend.

Dean knew he should focus on ending the demon once and for all. The damn thing killed his mother and Sam's girlfriend for Christ's sake, but that empty backseat was distracting. For months now, he and Hannah had been hunting and for her just be gone was… it wasn't something he could just ignore. No matter how wrong it felt without her around, it was better this way. If there was a chance of someone dying during their encounter with the demon, it couldn't be Hannah. He couldn't risk that chance. Not that he wanted John and Sam to die either. Of course he didn't. They were his blood, but just like his father said, the fear of keeping each other alive would make killing this demon more difficult. Whatever it came down to, Dean would gladly let that demon escape if it meant keeping his family alive.

John told them to visit a hospital to find names of each baby celebrating their six-month birthday. Dean was driving around for a hospital to drop Sam off at when Sam's phone began to ring.

"Dad?" Dean asked, glancing at him.

"Uh, no." Sam flipped it open. "Hey, Hannah."

Dean froze at the mention of her name. He hastily forced himself to relax, trying not to look like he cared. Sam told Hannah what they were doing, but Dean couldn't hear her response. He tightened his grip on the wheel when he heard Sam repeat the word shapeshifter. What the hell were they talking about? Had a shapeshifter attacked her? Dean wanted to snatch the phone from Sam and get some answers.

The conversation lasted for another four minutes, with Sam updating Hannah on their situation. Sam was smiling at the end of it. "Just be careful," were his last words before hanging up.

Tapping the wheel, Dean tried to focus on the road. He shoved back thoughts of Hannah and her last encounter with a shapeshifter. The thing wore his face when it hurt her. She had to see him hit her. Back in the sewers, when he and Sam managed to untangle themselves from the ropes restraining them, Hannah tried to choke him out. Not that Dean blamed her, but it still made him flinch remembering the fear rife on her face. Fear of him.

"Think we'll actually find this baby in time?" Sam questioned, turning his head to look at him.

"We'll have to," Dean replied, loosening his grip on the wheel a little. "If we don't, we're fucked."

"But what if it—"

"It won't. We're killing the damn thing, Sam."

Neither spoke again until Dean finally found a hospital. Before Sam climbed out, Dean cleared his throat and asked, "So… did Hannah ask about me?"

Sam raised his eyebrows at the question. "Nope," he answered, a bit too cheerfully for Dean's taste.

Whatever, Dean thought, clenching his jaw shut. Asking more questions would make him look more desperate. He needed to focus on the demon, not Hannah.

---

Once they reached Nebraska, Hannah had to do more research for their shapeshifter hunt. She found several news articles about a rising body count in young women. Each woman went to the nightclub and left with a man, only to be found dead two days later. The man had a different appearance, which was why Jo suspected it was a shapeshifter.

"What's the plan, Singer?" Jo asked. She sat across from Hannah, sharpening her knife. The Roadhouse was off-limits since Ellen was bartending there and didn't know about their hunt, so they hung out at the Harvelle house.

"Well, we go to a club and find this shapeshifter," Hannah said. It was strange. She never could make the plans for their hunts. It was always Dean. Sure, he was the most experienced, but he could be a control freak at times. Not that Hannah was any better. She would take total control over group projects back in school. "It'll pick you, then I'll follow you to wherever he takes you back to. When we're alone—" She drew a finger across her throat.

"Vicious," Jo said, smirking. "I like it."

"I don't want you unprotected. I'll carry a gun, but if we somehow get separated, you should be prepared," Hannah continued, getting up to search through her luggage for an appropriate dress for tonight. She never went clubbing in college, so she didn't have any dresses that would work for tonight. Magda never ceased to try and convince her to go, but Hannah was more concerned with classwork than partying. Then there was Warren, who she hardly got to spend time with as it was.

"Right." Jo fiddled with her knife. "What if it chooses you?"

"Me?" Hannah asked, surprised.

"Don't act like you aren't hot, Singer. You had two boyfriends and another one that you're fighting with right now."

"He's not my… Never mind." Hannah shook her head. "The plan doesn't change. We still hunt this thing down and stop it from killing more innocent girls." She smiled at Jo. "Look, it's okay to be nervous. It would be weird if you weren't. Just know that I have your back."

Jo stared at her for a moment, then smiled. "I know. Thanks." She stood up and went over to her closet. "I don't have your tits, but I think we can fit the same dress."

"Shut up." Hannah's face warmed. "Let's get ready. We have a long night."

Getting ready took a couple of hours. Hannah slipped on a short green dress that bared her shoulders, black heels, and gold jewelry. Jo stuck with a simple black dress and black heels to match. Their purses easily concealed their weapons which was great for them since Hannah couldn't think of another place to hide her gun.

Opal, the nightclub, was packed tonight with the line to get in almost reaching the end of the street. Hannah had no doubt that the shapeshifter would come here tonight to choose its next victim, but how were she and Jo going to get inside? Waiting would take all night and they couldn't let this shapeshifter kill another girl. You're too soft to be a hunter were John's words. Well, Hannah doubted he had the means to enter this club without her or Jo's help. Inhaling deeply, Hannah straightened her stance and led Jo to the front of the line where the bouncer guarded the door.

"Name?" he asked.

"We're not on the guest list," Hannah said. The bouncer motioned to the back of the line. "Can you let us in? It's my friend's twenty-first birthday! Shouldn't she spend her birthday at the best club in Omaha?"

The bouncer glanced between her and Jo. Hannah swallowed back her pride and quickly tugged her dress lower, showing more cleavage than she was comfortable with. His eyes were drawn to her chest, lingering long enough to make her want to bring her arms up and cover herself.

"Go right ahead." He opened the door and Hannah smiled.

"Thanks! You're the best!" She took Jo's wrist and guided her inside.

"You never told me you're an actress," Jo said, almost accusingly.

"I'm not," Hannah admitted. She just wasn't oblivious to her anatomy as some people thought. Taking in the club, Hannah could hardly make anything out from the throng of bodies on the dancefloor. VIP was upstairs, which would give them a good view, but how would they get up there?

"Let's get a drink." Jo led Hannah through the mass of dancers towards the bar.

"Is drinking a good idea?" Hannah asked. Well, more like shouted. The volume of the music was overwhelming. She could feel the bass vibrate through the floors and over her skin. This was so different from the small town dive bars she and the boys frequented.

"Maybe it's at the bar," Jo suggested, elbowing people out of the way.

They finally reached the bar, but Hannah caught no sign of the shapeshifter. While Jo tried to catch the bartender's attention, Hannah surveyed the dancefloor. The strobe lights made it difficult to figure out if this thing was around. She sat up straighter when she saw something flare on the dancefloor. It was when she spotted it again that she grabbed Jo's arm to get her attention.

"It's over there." Hannah pointed to a man dancing with a blonde girl. He was slick looking, with a nice suit, fancy watch, and gelled hair disheveled with sweat.

"How can you tell?" Jo asked.

"Shapeshifters' eyes turn silver under the lights," she explained.

Jo watched the couple, then almost leapt off her barstool when the shapeshifter's eyes glinted silver. "You're right."

"I know my stuff. Now let's go." Hannah waited, but Jo didn't move from her seat. "Come on, Jojo. You got this."

Jo inhaled deeply before nodding. They slid off their barstools and made their way towards the shapeshifter. Hannah touched Jo's wrist in fear of getting separated. She ignored the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. We got this, Hannah told herself. She's dealt with countless monsters. This still shouldn't make her nervous. They were killing the shapeshifter tonight.

"These heels are killing me!" Hannah shouted to Jo. Sam would probably say they were impractical, but in this situation it was necessary. How else was she going to find the shapeshifter? She was only five foot three, she couldn't peek over everyone's heads at that height.

"Quit whining!" Jo kept her attention on the shapeshifter near them. "I'm going in."

Hannah nodded and watched Jo pushed her way towards the shapeshifter. She gasped when someone took her hands and twirled her towards them. She bumped into a solid body. Looking up, she found herself staring at a chiseled face. His bespectacled blue eyes peered into hers, almost boyish. And they say glasses take away your good looks, she thought.

"Sorry," he said, but didn't let her go. "My friends say I'm too shy, but I guess I came on too strong."

"It's okay," Hannah said, wishing he'd let go of her arm.

"Do you want to—dance I mean?" he asked.

"Um… okay." Hannah glanced over for Jo, but she disappeared into the crowd. Turning back to the stranger holding her, she returned his smile and nodded.

Moving to the pulsating beat, Hannah hadn't realized how much she missed dancing. It was fun to just move and rock to whatever beat was playing. Ever since she watched Dirty Dancing in the eighth grade, she wanted to find her Patrick Swayze and dance her troubles away. Ryan had been the first boy she shared a real dance with. In fact, he was her first for many things. He was no Patrick Swayze, but he'd been close enough. Dean couldn't even drop his bravado to dance with her at that bar in Nebraska. God, again with him? Hannah hated herself for always thinking about him.

She glimpsed around the dancefloor for Jo, and flinched when she was pulled closer. As much as Hannah loved Dirty Dancing, she wasn't comfortable getting this close and personal with a stranger. Except Luke, she thought. He had been her first one night stand.

"Want a drink?" he asked, mouth close to her ear.

"No thanks." Unlike Sam, Hannah could hold her liquor, but she needed to stay sharp.

"Oh, I get it." He twirled her before Hannah could ask what he got. It wasn't until she faced him again that he continued. "Some guys think if they buy a girl a drink, they automatically get a pass to sleep with them. I just want to talk."

"Over a drink?" Hannah asked him. When he nodded his head so vigorously she couldn't stop the small bout of laughter that escaped her. "I don't even know your name."

"It's Jeff," he said, pushing up his glasses. "Just one drink. Is that alright?"

She didn't want to leave Jo alone, but she was thirsty and could use a soda.

"Just one," Hannah repeated, and let him lead her back to the bar. She pushed some hair behind her ear as she sat down on a barstool. "I'm Hannah by the way."

"What do you want to drink, Hannah?" Jeff asked, signaling for the bartender.

"Just a Coke."

"Are you driving home?"

"My friend is, but she already had something to drink." Sort of. Jo never got the drink she ordered. Hopefully she hadn't gone off too far with that shapeshifter. She was a tough girl, but still new and jittering with nerves. Hannah wanted to be close by and would be once she got her drink.

"One Coke and one Bourbon," Jeff told the bartender. He returned his gaze to her and his blue eyes looked electric behind his browline glasses. "Hannah. That was Samuel's mother."

"Samuel…" Hannah frowned, then realized who he was talking about. "The prophet. I haven't read the Bible since I was fifteen."

"Interesting read for a fifteen year old. What made you pick it up?"

For the entirety of her sophomore year, Hannah decided she would study the Bible. She thought it would come in handy for hunting, maybe even spill some secrets on demons and angels. Her dad hadn't found anything noteworthy besides morals, but encouraged her to read it.

"Curiosity," Hannah answered, forcing a smile. She straightened in her seat, still searching for Jo. Maybe she should check her phone.

"Who do you keep looking for?" Jeff inquired. Hannah turned back to him when she felt her glass touch her hand. "Here you go."

After the first mouthful, Hannah paused. It didn't taste right. She took another sip and realized there was alcohol in it. Hadn't she asked for a soda? Had Jeff spiked it? Oh no, Hannah thought, putting the drink down. She'd heard stories about guys spiking girls' drinks to rape them. A girl in the dorm across from her had gone through it and Hannah would visit her whenever she had time between classes and homework.

"I have to… I have to go," Hannah suddenly said, sliding off the barstool.

"Why?" Jeff asked, but she didn't give him an answer. Instead, she pulled out her phone and checked her messages. None from Jo. 'Where r u?' Hannah texted before shoving her phone back in her purse. She began heading to the dancefloor, but then Jeff grabbed her arm. "Looking for your friend? I can help you find her."

"That's okay. I don't need any help," Hannah said, shrugging off his hand.

"I think you do." Jeff touched her elbow. "She's a little blonde thing in black, right? She went dancing with my friend."

He lifted two fingers to push up his glasses, but Hannah saw the gleam of silver in his eyes. Did she and Jo have it wrong this whole time? Were there two shapeshifters? She couldn't pull out her gun or knife in front of all these people. She had to get him alone, but there wasn't enough time with whatever drug he slipped in her drink.

"Lead the way," Hannah said, focusing solely on him and not the club slowly spinning around them.

"This way." She wanted to rip her wrist out of his grasp, but she feared she'd stumble without his guidance. Hannah blinked her eyes repeatedly, forcing herself to remain steady. "Ted likes to throw after parties. He's probably at our usual spot."

The spot where you take the girls you've drugged to hurt them? Hannah thought. She stumbled out onto the sidewalk and swallowed back her disgust when Jeff caught her. He led her across the street to a silver Toyota Camry. Jeff all but shoved her inside the passenger seat. Hannah put her hand over her forehead and closed her eyes.

The drive to wherever Jeff's "spot" was lasted for five minutes—or was it thirty? Hannah hadn't paid much attention to the length of their drive. She was using a gargantuan amount of strength to keep herself focused on the hunt. Hannah opened her eyes when the car eventually parked. This "spot" Jeff mentioned was a warehouse.

"Looks empty," Hannah noted, unbuckling her seatbelt.

"Ted and your friend are already inside," Jeff answered, giving her a strange look. Fifteen minutes had passed and the drugs were taking affect, but Hannah wasn't unconscious. Most likely because he hadn't put enough alcohol. "Come on."

When she didn't move, Jeff shook his head and stepped out of the car. He went around to her side and hauled her out of the car. Staggering to her feet, Hannah let him guide her inside the warehouse. Silently, she used one hand to reach inside her purse for her gun.

"You should sit down." Jeff's voice sounded far away. Hannah shook her head, forcing herself to focus. He slid his arm around her waist. "Need me to carry you?"

"Carry me where?" Hannah asked, hating how slurred her words sounded.

"Come here." He brought her closer, and that was when Hannah pulled out her gun. "What—"

She aimed the barrel at his forehead and pulled the trigger once. Hannah swayed from the piercing sound. The ringing in her ears drowned out everything else. She swayed, forcing herself not to pass out, even as her stomach heaved and her hand holding her pistol trembled.

"Jo," she mumbled, when the ringing finally dwindled. "Jo!"

"Over here—!" Jo's words were cut off by a cry.

The drugs were hitting her with a force that rivaled a tank. Hannah had to use whatever surfaces were around to push herself towards Jo. She swayed to the side so severely she stumbled to the ground. She couldn't pass out. Not now when Jo was in trouble. Raising her pistol, Hannah finally found the aisle Jo and the other shapeshifter were in. Jo was bound to a chair, her arm bleeding and her lip split open. Ted, the other shapeshifter, stood next to Jo holding a cleaver. He hastily put the edge of the cleave to Jo's throat.

"Come closer or I'll—!" Hannah didn't wait for him to finish his sentence. She shot him three times in the chest. Ted collapsed to the ground and the cleaver followed him, the blade clattering painfully loud in the empty warehouse.

Breathing heavily, Hannah trudged over to Jo and pulled out her silver knife to cut through the rope. She only made it halfway when she couldn't fight the drugs any longer. The last thing she heard before sleep took her was Jo saying her name.

---

"So you didn't like Titanic?" Hannah asked, incredulous.

"It was so cheesy I wanted to vomit," Jo replied.

"Okay, what about Edward Scissorhands?"

"I like that one better, but I couldn't get past the guy having scissors for hands."

"You have no sense of romance."

Jo shrugged and Hannah tilted her head to look out the passenger window. Two days after their hunt, Hannah decided she should return home. The drive to Sioux Falls would only take three hours. Thankfully, Jo didn't mind the commute and offered to drive her home. Hannah suspected she was still concerned about her getting drugged and killing two monsters in the same night.

Singer's Auto Salvage finally came into view. That longing to return home after so many months was finally being fulfilled. Not that Hannah didn't enjoy traveling around, honing her hunting skills with Sam and Dean, but those motels couldn't substitute for home.

"Thanks for taking me out on my first hunt," Jo said after she parked. "It was… something else."

"I can say my hunt with you was more exciting than the other ones," Hannah admitted, which was the truth. She never got to go undercover at a dance club before. "I'm gonna miss you, Jojo."

"Ugh, I hate that nickname." Yet Jo leaned forward and hugged Hannah. She returned it eagerly, squeezing her so tight that Jo had to wriggle herself free. "Call me if your boyfriend is still acting like an asshole."

"He's not my…" Hannah didn't bother to finish her sentence. Instead she hugged Jo one last time before stepping out of the car to gather her luggage. Once she had everything, Hannah waved goodbye and watched Jo drive off. Once her car was out of sight, Hannah dragged her luggage up the steps to the front door.

"Rumsfeld," Hannah gasped, walking over to the Rottweiler. He got up when she neared, waggling its docked tail. She crouched down and almost toppled over as Rumsfeld jumped on her. She laughed and had to whip her head back and forth to keep him from slobbering all over her face. "Oh, I missed you."

Standing up, Hannah petted Rumsfeld one last time before returning to the door. Her father could get jumpy if he wasn't warned beforehand that someone was in the house, so she rang the doorbell instead of unlocking the door and walking in.

The door opened a minute later and there he was, her father Bobby.

"Daddy!" Hannah threw her arms around him. Bobby didn't hesitate to return her embrace. "I missed you!"

"What are you doing here?" Bobby asked, pulling back.

"What? You didn't miss your favorite daughter?" Hannah asked, pouting.

He rolled his eyes. "You're my only daughter."

"So I'm only your favorite by default?"

"You aren't even here five minutes and you're already acting like a smartass."

"Missed you too, Daddy."

They stared at one another. Hannah couldn't suppress her smile anymore and giggled as Bobby pulled her into another hug. Sure, she was twenty-three years old but a girl could miss her father, right? Sam teased her about being a daddy's girl and Hannah sometimes wondered if she still would be one if her mother was alive. Thinking of her mother never failed to bring a heaviness over her heart. Shoving back her sadness, Hannah made her smile was wide when she and Bobby separated again.

After bringing her luggage inside, they went into the kitchen. "What have you been up to?" Hannah asked, opening the fridge. She frowned at the leftover of ordered food. Bobby was never a cook. She took out a pitcher of lemonade. "Any hunts?"

"Just a ghost here and there. Nothin' exciting." Bobby watched her pour a glass of lemonade. "You gonna tell me what you're doing here?"

"Um, because I missed you?" Hannah offered, avoiding his questioning stare.

"Come on, Hannah." She heard him sit down at the kitchen table. "Did something happen with Sam and Dean?"

Hannah sighed and went over to join him at the table. "We got into a fight," she mumbled.

"Over what?" She opted to drink her lemonade than answer. Bobby's features softened and he sighed. "It's all right, baby girl. We don't have to talk about it."

Biting her lip, Hannah didn't want to talk about their fight, but maybe Bobby could offer some insight. He was the wisest person she knew. Taking another sip of her lemonade, she decided to tell him everything. When she got to John and the vampires, Bobby scoffed.

"John can be an ass, but he only sent you away because of—"

"The vampire Dean and I hunted? That was six years ago."

"And I threatened to shoot him if he ever showed up again after that whole nonsense. He may not have been on that hunt, but I hold him responsible and he feels it too." Hannah rolled her eyes. "Now, I'm not saying he's right, but he doesn't want any more guilt. And it isn't even your hunt, baby girl."

"It has been since Dean involved me. Daddy, I know it wasn't my mom that this demon killed, but it's theirs and I want to see it through just as much as they do," Hannah replied. She ignored the anger coursing through her. "And Dean, he's been protective, but he never pushed me out of a hunt until John showed up. Has John always been this controlling?"

"He cares about his boys, Hannah."

"You care about me, but you've never been controlling."

"Because while you may be my child, I know I can't control what you do forever. John still hasn't learned that."

She nodded, considering his words. So, it was out of love that he bossed around his sons. After watching your wife die, you'd do everything to protect that last pieces of her left. When she thought of it like that, Hannah could understand John a little more. Still, you had to let your kids grow and make mistakes to learn from them. No room for error was how Dean described John's parenting. No wonder Dean followed his every command. Hannah didn't know what to make of Dean's actions. Did he care too?

"How'd you get here, anyway?" Bobby asked, after the silence had lingered.

"I caught a ride with Jo," Hannah answered. Their hunt was a vague memory because of the drugs, but Jo filled in the missing holes. She couldn't fathom how she killed two shapeshifters while drugged, but who else could say they did that? "So, what do you wanna do?"

"Watch T.V." Bobby stood from the table and headed to the living room.

"Like The Real World?" Hannah asked, trailing after him. "I know you've been watching it without me!"

She passed by the unofficial library, where all her organization had fallen apart. Hannah was about to complain about it when she noticed something on the ceiling. She inside the library slowly and stared up at the devil's trap painted there.

"Um, Daddy?" Hannah called out slowly. "Why did you paint a devil's trap in our library?"

"In case any demons come storming in!" Bobby shouted from the living room.

Demons? Hannah thought, frowning. Why would demons come to their house? It was no surprise that he would take another precaution against demons. After all, he did slip his guests holy water. She wouldn't worry too much about it.

"I hope you're ready for MTV," Hannah said, stepping out of the library.

---

The whole hunt had gone to shit.

John was kidnapped by Meg, the Yellow Eyed Demon was still loose to destroy more lives, and the Colt was down to three bullets. Sam wanted to go guns blazing, but they needed to be smart about this. Any misstep and they could all die. Dean could admit they needed help, but who's help was the problem. Why the hell was he nervous? It was her dad's help he wanted, not her. Not that she would help him in the first place.

"Ready?" Sam asked, lumbering out of the passenger seat.

"Ready for what?" Dean questioned, scowling.

"If you don't know then I wish you luck," Sam replied, chuckling.

What the hell was he talking about? Sam could laugh at all his little inside jokes by himself. Shooting him another scowl, Dean returned his attention to the Singer residence. He walked up the steps to the front door. Ignoring his jumbled nerves, he rang the doorbell and waited. It was Bobby who opened the door. Dean couldn't deny his relief that it wasn't Hannah, but he knew he shouldn't get too comfortable. She would show up any second now.

"Bobby," Dean said, grinning. "It's good to see you."

"Not under these circumstances, I'm sure." Yet Bobby pulled him into a hug. When they separated, he turned to Sam. "It's been a long time, Sam."

"I know." Sam smiled, something he hadn't done in the past couple of days, and went over to hug their honorary uncle. "Thanks for helping us out on such short notice."

"Oh, it's nothin'." Bobby stepped aside and they entered the familiar house. "So, what shit have you idjits gotten into?"

Dean and Sam shared a look.

Clearing his throat, Sam decided he would explain the situation. Dean took the time to glimpse around. Everything looked the same, even the library. It was usually organized, but its disordered state was purely Bobby. He was glad for that, the familiarity and mess. It made it feel more like what could have been home.

His reverie was disrupted at the sound of the front door unlocking. He heard her furious footsteps as they rushed over to the library where Sam and Bobby were talking. Then there she was, in a pale blue blouse and fitted jeans, her brown hair bunched up in a tousled ponytail. It had only been a few days since they separated, but seeing her right here felt like it had been longer.

It took her a minute to say anything. She crossed her arms and turned to Sam. "What are you doing here?"

"We need help," Sam answered, turning around to face her. "Things aren't good right now, Han."

Her blue eyes fell on Dean, her livid gaze making him stiffen. She didn't say anything to him, though, instead glancing up at the ceiling. He followed her gaze and widened his eyes at the sight. Painted on the ceiling was a pentagram. That definitely wasn't there before.

"Is that why you painted that? Because of Sam and Dean?" Hannah questioned, marching past him and over to Bobby.

"Hannah, you can be angry all you want, but you know it'd be wrong to deny them help," Bobby replied, not once raising his voice. Dean smirked, then quickly dropped it when Bobby glowered at him. "Now, are you gonna stand there with that sulky look on your face or are you gonna help our friends?"

The glare on her face was the scariest expression Dean had ever seen on Hannah. She was never angry, always smiling and sweet like apple pie and ice cream. Even when he would act like a grade A jackass, she still smiled and never pushed him away like everyone else. It just made Dean feel more like a jackass. He was getting better about it, because he knew one of these days Hannah would realize she shouldn't put up with his shit and leave him. Seeing her this pissed off at him right now, though… that day could be steadily approaching.

After a sigh, Hannah asked Sam, "What's the plan?"

Sam looked at Dean, and Dean looked at Bobby.

The older hunter sighed. "Okay you idjits, here's what we're gonna do…"

---

After explaining the plan, they didn't have much else to do except wait for Meg. Sam sat down behind the desk in the corner of the library and began reading the Key of Solomon. Hannah wanted to talk to him, but she didn't want to bother him. He was too invested in her father's tome. She busied herself with tidying some of the mess Bobby created. She was still shocked by the fact that Meg was a demon. Hannah assumed Meg had died when she fell out the window in Chicago, but she was working with the yellow-eyed demon.

"Here you go." Hannah paused over some papers at the sound of Bobby's voice.

"What is this?" Dean asked. After a moment he said, "Holy water?"

"That one is." Hannah turned to see Bobby pull out another flask. "This is whisky."

He took a swig of it and handed it to Dean. He accepted it, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Bobby, thanks. Thanks for everything," Dean said, giving him back the flask. "To tell you the truth, I wasn't sure we should come."

Their eyes met. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat and the look on his face was almost enough for Hannah to end their fight. No, she told herself. Dean never apologized for anything. If they were to actually date, then she couldn't forgive him so easily. Not everything needed words, but some things needed to be voiced. In this instance, something definitely needed to be said.

"Nonsense. Like I said, your daddy needs help," Bobby replied easily.

"Well, yeah, but last time we saw you, I mean, you did threaten to blast him full of buckshot," Dean reminded him. He smiled, which was strange since Hannah didn't find the memory worth smiling about. "Cocked the gun and everything."

"Yeah, well, what can I say? John just has that effect on people."

Hannah couldn't help herself. She giggled at her father's comment, but had to bite it back when Dean looked her way again.

"None of that matters now. All that matters is that you get him back," Bobby told him.

"Bobby." They all turned to Sam. "This book… I've never seen anything like it."

Her father walked over to Sam, explaining more about the Key of Solomon. Hannah stiffened when Dean was suddenly in front of her. He was close enough that she could see his freckles and smell his aftershave. She should have stepped back, but her feet were rooted to the hardwood floors.

"Do you need something?" she asked, keeping her voice airy.

"How long are we gonna do this?" Dean asked quietly. "Come on, Hannah. We both know you don't hold grudges."

"No one has given me a reason to hold one," Hannah said, then gave him a hollow smile. "I guess that makes you special."

"Lucky me." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Look, what I said back in Colorado, it wasn't… I never meant for it to come out like that."

"But you still think this is too dangerous for me," she stated. When he didn't dispute her words, she almost rolled her eyes. "You're the one who invited me on this 'dangerous' hunt, remember? Why is that when we finally find this demon, you push me away? Like I'm nothing?"

"You know what this demon is capable of, Hannah, and this hunt has nothing to do with—"

"It's had everything to do with me since you called me in the middle of the night asking for my help. I dropped everything to help you! You act like this hunt means nothing to me, but it does! It killed your mother, Dean. That's enough for me."

Dean shook his head, the muscles in his jaw clenching. "You don't get it," he snapped, his voice suddenly loud. "If I couldn't protect you from that vampire, how the hell am I supposed to protect you from the bastard that killed my mom?"

The fury palpitating throughout her abruptly vanished as the air stilled between them.

"Dean…" she started softly, but a crash interrupted her. She and Dean rushed towards the door where it was kicked open. She widened her eyes when Meg stepped inside the house, blowing her bangs out of her eyes.

"No more bullshit, okay?" Meg said sharply.

Dean moved towards her, raising something in his hands, but Meg flicked her arm. The movement sent Dean crashing into a pile of books. Hannah nearly ran over to him, but Sam grabbed her arm and pulled her behind him. Bobby stood beside her, watching Meg cautiously.

"I want the Colt, Sam. The real Colt," Meg demanded, approaching them slowly. Sam guided them backwards, keeping a careful distance from the demon. "Right now."

"We don't have it," Sam lied, "we buried it."

Meg rolled her eyes. "Didn't I say, 'no more bullshit'? I swear after everything I heard about you Winchesters, I got to tell you, I'm a little underwhelmed," she said, her words withering. "First Johnny tries to pawn off a fake gun, and then he leaves the real gun with you two chuckleheads. Lackluster men. I mean, did you really think I wouldn't find you?"

If it weren't for Dean standing and leaning against the wall, Hannah would have looked up at the ceiling and given away their trap.

"Actually… We were counting on it." His rough voice made Meg turn around. His gaze flickered to the ceiling and Meg followed it, finally noticing the devil's trap. He smirked at her. "Gotcha."

Hannah could feel the hate radiating off Meg at that very moment. She inhaled sharply. "What now, baby?" she asked, seething.

"Got any rope, Bobby?" Dean asked, not taking his eyes off the demon.

Bobby stepped around Sam to retrieve the rope. Sam meanwhile went to get a chair for Meg. Hannah began to move away from the demon, but she paused when Meg called for her.

"Was that your dog outside?" she asked, adopting a curious expression on her face.

"Was?" Hannah repeated, frowning.

"Oh. You must not have heard me snap its neck," Meg said, smirking.

Hannah opened her mouth, about to ask why, but realized she was speaking to a demon. That sweet dog didn't deserve his neck to get snapped, but demons had no morals. They killed for the fun of it. Hannah hoped she would never become one. She swallowed back her grief and replied, "I didn't think you had to prove how much of a petty demon you are, Meggy, but you've really outdone yourself. Congrats."

It was clearly not the response Meg wanted, because she just sneered at Hannah and muttered something under her breath. She didn't even struggle when Dean and Sam began tying her to the chair. Bobby didn't stay to watch, instead going around to salt the windows and doors. Hannah grabbed another canister of salt and helped to make the job go faster.

"You know, if you wanted to tie me up, all you had to do was ask," Meg said, once Hannah returned to the library. She tilted her head, smirking at them.

Finishing not too long after Hannah, Bobby entered the library. "I salted the door and windows. If there are any demons out there, they ain't getting in."

Dean nodded and stood from the table he was leaning against. Hannah touched his hand, stopping him. He looked down at their hands. She told him quietly, "Don't let her get to you."

He stared at her, his gaze lingering, but then he seemed to remember himself and continued striding towards Meg. "Where's our father, Meg?"

"You didn't ask very nice," she noted.

"Where's our father, bitch?" Dean asked flatly.

"Jeez. You kiss your mother with that mouth? Oh wait, I forgot. You don't," Meg said, each word scathing.

Dean gripped the armrests of Meg's chair, hovering over her. His back was tense and Hannah's advice was quickly fading. Sam cursed under his breath. Hannah understood his frustration. Meg seemed to know which exact buttons to push to rile Dean up. The demon mentality repulsed her.

"You think this is a fucking game?" Dean shouted, "Where is he? What did you do to him?"

"He died screaming. I killed him myself."

Sam hastily grabbed Dean, dragging him back before he could hit Meg. "Let me go!" Dean hissed, struggling against him.

Meg tilted her head back laughing. "Were you about to hit me?" she asked, grinning. She tilted her head to the side, considering him. "That's kind of a turn on—you hitting a girl." She opened her legs a little, as if inviting him for more.

Finally untangling himself from Sam, Dean snarled at Meg, "You're no girl."

Bobby motioned for them to follow him out of the room. Hannah glanced over her shoulder at Meg before following her father. She stood beside Dean, looking at him in concern. His hate for the demon was almost tangible. Hannah couldn't fault him for it. To say dealing with demons were difficult would be an understatement.

"You cool now?" Sam asked, keeping his voice low.

"She's lying. He's not dead," Dean insisted instead.

"Dean, you can't hurt her," Bobby told him. The urgency in his voice made Hannah turn to him with a frown.

"Why?"

"Because she really is a girl."

Sam frowned in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"She's possessed. That's a human possessed by a demon. Can't you tell?" Bobby said, gesturing to Meg. Hannah stiffened. Why hadn't it occurred to her that Meg was possessing someone? That's what demons did. They had no conscious. Of course they wouldn't possess a corpse, but instead torture a person with their possession.

Dean did a double take when he glanced over at Meg. The demon watched them, smirking shamelessly. "That's actually good news," he said, then leaned over to Sam. He spoke low enough that neither Hannah or Meg could hear him. Sam nodded and led Hannah out of the room by the wrist.

"What are we doing?" Hannah asked, once they were out of Meg's earshot.

"We're going to perform an exorcism," Sam answered quietly. "Do you have—?"

Hannah nodded and knew exactly which book he needed. It took her longer than usual with the mess Bobby made, but she found it. Sam gave her a grateful smile and together they returned to the room where Meg was held.

"Are you going to read me a story?" Meg asked childishly. She eyed Sam as he rifled through the pages for the exorcism.

"Something like that," Dean replied, then turned to his brother. "Hit it, Sam."

"Regna terrae, cantate deo, psallite domino," Sam began.

"An exorcism? Are you serious?" Meg asked, her expression one of disbelief.

"What else are we supposed to do when you've been so unhelpful?" Hannah questioned, crossing her arms.

"Tribuite virtutem deo—" Meg suddenly flinched. Sam paused and looked to Dean.

"I'm going to kill you," Meg told Dean through grit teeth. "I'm gonna rip the bones from your body."

"No, you're gonna burn in hell," Dean corrected, unafraid. "Unless you tell us where our Dad is." Meg smiled thinly, and Dean shrugged. "Well, at least you'll get a nice tan."

He motioned for Sam to continue. Clearing his throat, Sam read aloud, "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…"

Meg twisted in her chair, like she was trying to shake off the agony the exorcism was causing. Hannah gripped her arms from the sudden cry Meg released. It sounded far too human to be demonically possessed. The demon terrorizing that airplane hadn't been in this much pain.

"He begged for his life with tears in his eyes," Meg forced out, her face flushed red from the pain. She gripped the handles of the chair so hard Hannah thought she might crush it. "He begged to see his sons one last time. That's when I slit his throat."

Dean leaned down until his face was close to Meg's. For a moment, the only sound in the room was Sam's voice reading in Latin. Then, with an edge to his voice that Hannah never wanted directed at her, Dean said, "For your sake, I hope you're lying. Cause if it's true, I swear to God, I will march into hell myself and I will slaughter each and every one of you evil sons of bitches, so help me God!"

"Perditionis venenum propinare. Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciae." Wind began blowing throughout the room, stirring Hannah's hair and the papers in a poor imitation of a tornado.

"Where is he?" Dean demanded, his voice rough and unaffected by Meg's writhing.

"Dead!" she screamed.

"No, he's not! He can't be!" Dean screamed back.

Sam's exorcism dwindled. He shared a look with Hannah. Ignoring her goosebumps, she went over to Dean and touched his forearm. He jerked away, but she grabbed his arm and turned him away from Meg. She rubbed her thumb along his wrist in circular motions, hoping to ease some of his tension. Dean watched her thumb, his breathing slowing down. Hannah used her other hand to touch the nape of his neck, forcing him to look at her.

"Get it together," she murmured, then let go of him. She turned to Sam. "Keep going."

Sam's Adam's apple bobbed in his throat, but he kept reading. Hannah took Dean's wrist and made him step back with her when Meg's chair was pulled in all directions of the devil's trap. The exorcism on the plane had been powerful enough to cause turbulence. It was just stranger to watch a chair jerk around without anyone pulling it. If she was totally in the dark about the supernatural, Hannah was certain she would have fainted from freaking out.

Suddenly, as if compelled to by Wonder Woman's Lasso of Truth, Meg shouted, "He will be!"

"Wait!" Dean held his hand out for Sam to stop. "What do you mean?"

"He's not dead," Meg admitted, panting. She flashed a wicked grin. "But he will be after what we do to him."

"How do we know you're telling the truth?" Hannah asked. Her heart began to race. What if Meg was telling the truth? What if they got to him too late?

"You don't," she replied, tilting her head.

Dean's jaw clenched. "Sam," he warned.

"A building, okay!" Meg hastily added. "A building in Jefferson City."

"Where? Missouri? Where? I need an address!" Dean demanded.

"I-I don't know," Meg stammered, shaking her head.

"And the demon," Sam spoke up, "the one we're looking for, where is it?"

"I don't know. I swear that's everything I know," Meg said, breathing heavily.

Dean stared at her, the muscles in his jaw tightening. He turned away from her and snapped at Sam, "Finish it."

"What?" Meg widened her eyes in confusion. "I told you the truth!"

Hannah watched as hatred settled on his face. He scoffed and said, "I don't care."

Meg leaned forward in the chair. "You son of a bitch, you promised."

He whirled to face her and yelled, "I lied!" He turned back around and looked at Sam expectantly. "Sam, read."

Hannah moved towards the boys, hearing Sam say quietly, "Maybe we can still use her. Find out where the demon is."

"She doesn't know," Dean said stiffly.

"Maybe she lied."

"Sam," Dean started, and that edge in his voice sharpened. "There's an innocent girl trapped somewhere in there. We've go to help her."

She felt Bobby stand beside her. She looked up at her father, creasing her brows when he said, "You said she fell from a building. That girl's body is broken. The only thing keeping her alive is that demon inside. You exorcise it and that girl dies."

"And we're just supposed to leave her like that?" Hannah questioned. She'd rather die than let a demon possess her. Not that they could with the anti-possession symbol tattooed on the back of her left shoulder.

"She's a human being, Hannah," Bobby stated, meeting her stare. She understood where her father was coming from, but what were they supposed to do? They couldn't allow Meg to keep possessing this poor girl. She felt a pang of guilt, sharp and sudden. Why did they let the Daevas push her out of the window? Why hadn't she known Meg was possessed?

"We're putting her out of her misery." Dean's voice cut through Hannah silent turmoil. "Sam, finish it."

Sam looked between Dean, Bobby, and Hannah. She averted her gaze, not wanting to see her own guilt reflected in Sam's eyes. He sighed, but continued the exorcism. Hannah lifted her head when she heard Meg start to scream. She widened her eyes as Meg threw her head back. Black fog drifted upwards out of her mouth like a volcanic eruption. When they weren't possessing people, demons were just fogs? The demonic fog covered the devil's trap painted on the ceiling before dissipating back to hell.

The screaming stopped once the fog disappeared. Meg's head fell forward, hanging limply with the rest of her body. Blood dripped out of her mouth. Hannah's eyes widened when Meg lifted her head weakly.

"She's alive," Dean breathed, his voice filled with the relief they all felt. "Bobby, call 911 and get some water and blankets." He and Sam moved to untie her.

"Make sure you stabilize her neck," Hannah ordered, and Sam immediately steadied Meg's neck with one of his hands. She waited until they set her on the floor to put Meg in the recovery position. She waved a dismissive hand to the glass of water Bobby handed her. "No liquids. She could have internal bleeding."

In a strained voice, Meg mumbled something. Sam tilted his head downward. "What did you say?" he asked softly.

"It's been a whole year," Meg repeated, her voice wet with blood.

"You shouldn't talk," Hannah stated, checking her pulses. They were weak, but that was to be expected after falling from a seven story building.

She continued anyway, even as it pained her to speak. "I've been awake for some of it. I couldn't move my own body. The things I did… it was a nightmare."

Dean moved closer to Meg. "Was it telling us the truth about our dad?" Hannah and Sam both shot him reproachful looks. How could he ask something like that when the girl was dying? He noticed their frowns and said defensively, "We need to know."

"Yes," she whispered, swallowing thickly.

Giving Dean one last look, Sam asked gently, "Where is the demon we're looking for? Where are they keeping our dad?"

Meg's brown eyes glazed over, but she managed to reply, "By the river. Sunrise."

Dean opened his mouth to ask more, but Hannah shook her head. Meg's pulse was dangerously low. Her speaking was weakening her enough. She stood and went over to Bobby.

"Daddy, make sure she's not too cold and check her pulse until the ambulance comes," Hannah told him. He nodded and she glanced back at Meg before heading upstairs. She hadn't unpacked her luggage yet, which was good considering she didn't know how long this trip would last. Lugging her luggage downstairs, Hannah heard Bobby instruct the boys to leave before the ambulance arrived.

"Hannah," Dean started, noticing her first. "We'll talk when I come back. Just stay here with Meg and—"

"No." Hannah loved him, but she wouldn't let him boss her around. "I know you care about me. I care about you too. I'm afraid every time you do something dangerous you won't come back to—" Me she almost said, but Hannah caught herself. She ignored the heat rushing to her cheeks as she continued, "But you know what? I don't say anything because I trust you. So… can you return that trust?"

They stared at one another. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. For once, he was the one to break their gaze. Sighing, he turned back to Hannah and nodded. She returned his nod with one of her own. As they headed outside to the Impala, Sam paused by her as she put her luggage in the trunk.

"Glad to have you back," Sam said, nudging her.

"Yeah," she agreed, smiling a little.

---

It took seven hours to get from Sioux Falls to Jefferson City. Seven hours of awkwardness. Sure, Dean and Hannah sort of made up, but it was still weird between them. Sam could tell Dean wasn't too thrilled with Hannah tagging along, while Hannah was unusually quiet. She was always the one to keep a conversation running. Occasionally she'd say something to Sam, but mostly kept to herself.

Sam didn't mind the stretches of silence. It gave him time to think about what they would do once they found John. He didn't know if the demon would be waiting for them, but Sam hoped so. The demon had been loose for far too long. They had to be smart about this. He was worried Dean would waste the remaining three bullets on any demon just to save John. Sam couldn't let that happen. He had to kill it for their mother and Jessica.

He glanced over at Dean. His brother decided to park near some train tracks and make sure every gun had ammo. The grim expression on Dean's face concerned him.

"You've been quiet," Sam remarked.

"Just getting ready," Dean replied, his voice tight.

"He's gonna be fine, Dean," Sam said. He has to be, he thought. "Hannah."

Hannah looked up from her phone. She had been leaning against the car texting someone. Sam lifted the Key of Solomon and showed her the pentagram drawn on the pages.

"What do you call that?" he asked.

"It's a devil's trap," she answered, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "That's what my dad used on Meg."

"That's why she couldn't leave, right?"

She nodded. "What are you thinking?"

Sam walked over to the trunk door. He brushed off some dust and quickly drew a small devil's trap with his white chalk. Dean looked up and noticed his drawing. "Dude, what are you drawing on my car?"

"He's drawing a devil's trap," Hannah explained, sounding confused. "Did you want to explain, Sam?"

"Since the devil's trap basically turns the trunk into a lockbox, we can keep the Colt in there," Sam answered, moving to the other side of the trunk door to draw another devil's trap.

"What are you talking about?" The anger in Dean's voice subsided. "We're bringing the Colt with us."

Sam shook his head. "We can't, Dean. We've only got three bullets left. We can't just use them on any demon, we've got to use them on the demon."

"No, we have to save Dad. We're gonna need all the help we can get," Dean insisted.

"Dean, you know how pissed Dad would be if we used all the bullets?" Sam demanded, stepping closer to him. "He wouldn't want us to bring the gun."

"I don't care, Sam! I don't care what Dad wants, okay?" Dean snapped. He stared at Sam, his gaze furious. "And since when do you care what Dad wants?"

This conversation wasn't going the way Sam wanted it to, but he wasn't surprised. Dean was stubborn and wanted things done his way. That was one of the few things he and John had in common.

"We want to kill this demon. You used to want that, too. Hell, I mean, you're the one who dragged me and Hannah into this!" Dean scoffed, while Hannah crossed her arms and remained silent. "You did this Dean. I'm just trying to finish it."

"Well, you and Dad are a lot more alike than I thought, you know that?" Dean's words startled Sam into silence. You both can't wait to sacrifice yourself for this thing. But you know what? I'm gonna be the one to bury you." Dean shook his head before looking back at him. "You're selfish, you know that? You don't care about anything but revenge."

"That's not true." Dean scoffed at his response. Before Sam could tell him that he wanted Dad back safe and sound, Hannah moved to stand between them.

"Okay, that's enough." Hannah gently pushed Sam back. "Dean, you want to bring the gun. Sam, you don't want us to use all the bullets, right?" He inhaled sharply, then nodded. "Okay, let's compromise. I'll hold onto the gun."

Sam blinked. Was she joking? "What—no," he said the same time Dean huffed out, "No way."

"Why not?" Hannah questioned, holding up the Colt. When had she taken it from Dean? "Leaving it in the trunk could get all of us killed—" Dean made a grateful motion towards Hannah. "—but letting either of you handle it is gonna get us killed too."

"How? We have better aim than you," Dean pointed out.

"It's not about aim. It's about how reckless you two are. We need a clear head and I'm clearly it."

Dean laughed derisively. Sam just shook his head, his irritation growing. Couldn't she understand this wasn't some sort of game?

"Hannah, this is serious," Sam started.

"I know." She turned to face him. "We can't go in guns blazing. I'll hold onto it and when the time comes, I'll give it to one of you."

"What happens if that bastard gets you first?" Dean questioned. "Huh, Princess? Got a plan B for when the demon has the Colt?"

Sam stiffened from the daggers Hannah shot Dean. For as long as they have known her, this was the second time today they'd seen Hannah angry. Irritated, yes, but never angry. Each time it was Dean pissing her off. He was seriously digging his own grave from the rate he was going.

"I killed two shapeshifters by myself while roofied," Hannah revealed. The way Dean's eyes widened would have been comical if Sam himself wasn't shocked. He knew she was hunting a shapeshifter, not two. Then there was her getting drugged. What the hell had happened in the past couple of days?

When neither of them said anything, Hannah smiled, resembling the girl they knew, and hopped into the backseat of the Impala. Dean shared a look with Sam before shaking his head and going to the driver's seat. Sam closed the trunk and studied the devil's traps he drew one last time before collecting the Key of Solomon and joined everyone else in the car.

---

Later that day, they discovered what Meg meant by sunrise. The demons were holding John hostage in Sunrise Apartments. They could easily possess anyone in the building and they wouldn't know, which was surprisingly clever for malevolent spirits.

"How the hell do we get in?" Sam wondered. Entering the apartment and checking each floor was too suspicious, but Hannah had no other ideas.

Dean snapped his fingers. "Pull the fire alarm. Get all the civilians out," he suggested.

Despite how many times Dean aggravated her these past few days, Hannah couldn't suppress her smile. "Did you do that in high school?" she asked.

She meant to be teasing, but Dean gave one of those smiles that never reached his eyes. "Nah. Never stuck around long enough to find one," he replied.

"But the city responds in, what, seven minutes?" Sam pointed out.

"Seven minutes exactly," Dean murmured, nodding. "Okay, so the fire department is gonna come. We just take their uniforms and sneak in. Whoever is still inside must be the demons holding Dad."

"Okay, what about me?" Hannah asked. She was too short and small to fit into a firefighter's uniform.

"We'll text you which floor we're on and you just come up the fire escape. We'll let you into the apartment," Sam answered, glancing at Dean. "I'll go."

They watched him go until he was across the street. Dean turned to Hannah and asked, "What the fuck happened in Nebraska?"

She shrugged, watching the apartment. "I killed two shapeshifters."

"Okay, but then you said you got roofied."

"One of the shapeshifters did it. I killed him before he could do anything."

Hannah could feel Dean's furious stare on her. She finally turned to him and wasn't surprised by the expression on his face. "Don't do that again," he simply said, his voice rigid.

Well, Dean, I wouldn't have had to if you hadn't pushed me away, Hannah was about to reply, but she noticed people exiting the apartment building. She hit Dean's arm and pointed to the building. Like the boys predicted, the fire department arrived seven minutes later. Hannah distracted one of the firefighters while they collected the uniforms. She met them behind the building with the duffel bag.

Not even ten minutes had passed when Sam poked his head out of a window on the second floor. He gestured for her to come up. Hannah jumped and quickly pulled herself up the ladder. She stumbled through the window, but no one noticed. She placed her purse on the table near the window and went over to the bed where John was tied up. Hannah brushed past Dean and checked for a pulse on his neck.

"He's breathing," Hannah announced. She tilted her head, frowning at his bruised face and bloodied clothes.

"Let's wake him up," Dean said, leaning over John. He touched his father's shoulders and shook him. "Dad, wake up. Dad."

"He might have a concussion," Hannah told him. Dean paid her no mind as he began to cut loose the ropes around John's right wrist.

"Wait," Sam suddenly said.

"What?" Dean asked.

"He could be possessed for all we know." Sam pulled out a flask of holy water. Had Bobby blessed that for him without her noticing? Hannah didn't think the boys knew the incantation to that.

"What, are you nuts?" Dean demanded. He moved forward, but Hannah put the back of her hand on his chest, making him pause.

"We can never be too careful," Hannah said. She put her hand down when Dean didn't move. They watched as Sam tossed some holy water on John's chest. There was no immediate reaction. John laid there a moment longer until he began to stir.

John raised his head, squinting at them. "Sam?" he called out weakly. "Why are you splashing water on me?"

Relief filled the room immediately. Once John's right arm was free, Hannah helped John sit up. She waited for him to ask what she was doing here, but instead he looked at Sam. "Where's the Colt?" he asked.

Hannah was far too used to John to not be surprised by his question. If it had been Bobby, he would have asked how she was doing, not about some gun that almost got him killed.

"Don't worry, Dad. It's safe," Sam assured him.

"Good boys. Good…" John winced and used his freed left hand to touch his forehead. He mumbled something as Hannah helped him up, but he was dead weight. Sam quickly moved to help. Dean handed Hannah her purse and gestured with his head for her to move so he could carry John.

Carrying the duffel bag, Hannah was ahead of them when the front door burst open. Two men, one firefighter and a civilian, stepped in. Their black eyes gave away their possession. "Back in the room!" Hannah shouted, waiting until they were fully inside to shut the door behind her. She gasped when an axe came through the door, the blade almost cutting her ear.

She needed salt. Hannah rummaged through the duffel bag and pulled out a cannister of salt. She hastily made a ring of salt around the door. Shoving the cannister back in the duffel bag, Hannah climbed out the window and down the fire escape. John was on the ground, his back leaning against the wall. Sam was the ground, getting his face punched in by someone. No, a demon.

"Sam," Hannah shouted, leaving the duffel bag near John. She ran towards them and shoved the demon off Sam, catching it by surprise. The demon stood and drove his fist into her solar plexus. The air emptied out of her lungs. Falling to her knees, Hannah clutched her stomach and tried to breathe, but couldn't.

Her ears rang from the sudden gunshot rippling through the air. She looked up, widening her eyes at Dean holding the Colt. He went over to Sam and pulled him up. As Sam went to get John, Dean walked over to her. He held out his hand, but Hannah brushed it off and stood on her own, her lungs no longer struggling for air.

"You snuck it out of my purse," Hannah stated.

"Had to. That demon was gonna kill Sam," Dean replied, putting the gun away. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Hannah picked her purse off the ground. "Let's just get out of here."

Dean nodded and together, the four of them headed to the Impala and booked it.

---

It was past midnight by the time they found a deserted cabin in the middle of nowhere. On the way there, Hannah had made Dean stop for an icepack. "For the swelling," she explained, when he gave her a questioning look. She made Sam press it on his face the whole drive until the icepack melted.

"You sure you don't want to rest?" Hannah asked, making sure not to touch the old, dusty furniture inside the cabin.

Sam's back was to her. He had been lining all the windows and doors with salt. "I can't, Han," he answered tiredly. He turned around and Hannah winced. His face was still battered, but not as swollen. "I'll survive."

"Don't worry." Hannah walked over to him and inspected his face. "You'll still be handsome once the bruises go away."

"I'm glad one of us cares about my looks," Sam said, chuckling. He looked up the same time Hannah turned around, both hearing the floorboards creak. It was just Dean. "How is he?"

"He just needed a little rest, that's all," Dean replied, leaning against a table.

Hannah glanced around the dusty cabin. This creepy cabin and even creepier woods surrounding it reminded her of The Evil Dead. "Do you think we were followed?" she wondered.

Dean shook his head. "I don't think so. I mean, we couldn't have found a more out-of-the-way place to hole up," he said.

"Hey, uh… Dean." Both she and Dean looked at Sam. "You, um… you saved my life back there."

"So, I guess you're glad we brought the gun, huh?" Dean asked. He ignored the look Hannah gave him.

"Man…" Sam ducked his head. "I'm trying to thank you here."

Dean's smirk softened into a smile. He nodded and turned his head away from them. "You're welcome," he said quietly.

Silence between them lingered until Sam offered to check the other rooms. Hannah stood alone by the window, but not for long. Dean walked over to her, standing so close that their bodies brushed against one another.

"You know that guy I shot?" Hannah looked up at the sound of his voice. "There was a person in there."

Just like Meg, she thought, remembering. It hadn't sunk in until Hannah was in the convenience store for the icepack. Demons possessed living people and for Dean to shoot them in the head with the Colt, a gun known for killing anything… it was unnerving. Hannah didn't know if she could kill a human being.

"He was going to kill Sam," Hannah reminded him—and herself.

"Yeah, I know. That's not what bothers me," Dean said, averting his eyes.

"Then what does?"

"Killing that guy, killing Meg… I didn't hesitate. I didn't even flinch. For Dad and Sam… and you… the things I'm willing to do or kill, it's just…" Dean trailed off. His face was more vulnerable than she'd ever seen it. "It scares me sometimes."

"That's good it does." He finally met her gaze, frowning in confusion. "It means you're still a good person."

Her hand inched over to his, and he grasped it. Hannah's insides fluttered. She didn't know why this felt more intimate than the times they kissed. She kept her focus on their hands as Dean tugged her closer.

"She's right."

Their hands dropped. Dean quickly turned to face his father, but Hannah didn't miss the embarrassed expression on his face. Her own face was heating up.

John stepped into the room. "You did good," he told Dean.

"You're not mad?" Dean asked, frowning.

"For what?" John asked.

"Using a bullet," Dean explained.

"Mad? I'm proud of you." Hannah raised her eyebrows, not expecting that. "You know, Sam and I, we can get pretty obsessed. But you watch out for this family. You always have."

Dean stared at his father for a long time, then nodded. "Thanks," he finally said.

The lights flickered throughout the cabin. They went over to the window and Hannah felt Sam stand behind her. The wind howled outside. The demon was here. There was no doubt about it.

"Sam, lines of salt in front of every window, every door," John ordered, stepping away from the window.

"I already did," Sam replied, "and I just checked all the windows."

John nodded, satisfied. He turned to Dean. "You have the gun?"

Dean pulled the Colt out of his jeans. "Sam tried to shoot the demon in Salvation. It disappeared."

"This is me. I won't miss. Now, the gun," John insisted, holding out his hand. When Dean hesitated, John's voice softened. "Son, please."

Hannah had known John Winchester since she was five years old and had never heard him once say please. Could he be possessed? She didn't want to believe it, but judging from the look on Dean's face, she wasn't the only one suspecting it. They looked at each other. Giving a slight nod, Hannah moved to Dean's side as he stepped away from John.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam asked, widening his eyes.

"He said he was proud of me for using a bullet. He wouldn't. He'd tear me a new one for wasting one," Dean explained, his words frantic. He closed his eyes for a moment, but when he opened them, his demeanor changed. He held up the Colt and aimed it at John. "You're not my Dad."

"Dean, it's me," John—not John insisted.

"I know my Dad better than anyone, and it ain't you," Dean snapped.

"Dean, what the hell is wrong with you?" Sam shouted, moving to stand between them, but Hannah grabbed his wrist and yanked him back. "Hannah, what the hell?"

"He might… he might be possessed," Hannah said, tightening her grip on his wrist. She stared at his bruised face, understanding why he wouldn't want to believe that his father was possessed by the demon who wrecked their lives. "Do you trust Dean?"

His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. He turned to his brother. Hannah noticed the look passed between them, the tears welling in Dean's green eyes. Sam stared at the man pretending to be John then back at Dean before taking his place beside Dean.

John let his arms fall to his sides, exasperated. "Fine. If you all are so sure then go ahead. Kill me," he goaded. He hung his head down, waiting for someone they all knew Dean couldn't do. "I thought so."

When he lifted his head, Hannah's heart almost lodged itself in her throat. She heard so many stories of the yellow-eyed demon, but she never truly understood the fear the boys had for it until now. She stood frozen, almost paralyzed as the demon threw Dean and Sam against the walls behind and across from them without touching them. The Colt clattered to the ground and in that moment, Hannah forced herself to snatch it. She held it up, trying to steady her hands as she aimed it at the demon.

It gave her a once over. "Little Hannah Singer is all grown up," the demon remarked, smirking. "Give me the gun, sweetheart. You'll just hurt yourself."

"I'm not your sweetheart," Hannah replied sharply.

Seconds passed, neither speaking or moving. Then a sudden pain struck Hannah's wrist. She screamed as her wrist snapped and twisted, forcing her to drop the Colt. She heard Sam and Dean shout her name. She swallowed back a painful sob to focus on the demon grinning at her. It held the Colt now, weighing it in John's hand.

"What a pain in the ass this thing has been," the demon said, sighing.

"It's you, isn't it?" Hannah looked over at Sam where he was pinned to a wall. "We've been looking for you for a long time."

"Well... You found me."

"But the holy water—"

"You think something like that works on something like me?"

Sam struggled against the pressure keeping him pinned to the wall, but could only move his head. Hannah glanced over at Dean. He wasn't wrestling with the pressure, only watching the demon. He met her stare and Hannah was startled by the amount of anger and hate reflected in his eyes.

"I'm gonna kill you," Sam said through grit teeth.

"Oh, that'd be a neat trick. In fact…" The demon placed the gun down on the edge of the table. "Here. Make the gun float to you, psychic boy."

The demon waited expectantly. Hannah had almost forgotten about Sam's psychic abilities. They never talked about it, although she supposed that was more Dean's doing. He was the least comfortable with Sam's powers. When nothing happened, the demon released a low chuckle.

"Well, this is fun," the demon drawled, walking over to the wall where Dean was pinned. "I could've killed you a hundred times today, but this…" It sighed like he just enjoyed a good meal. "This is worth the wait."

It glanced over at Hannah. "You should sit down. Take a load off," the demon suggested. Hannah gasped when she was forcefully shoved into a nearby chair. It chuckled before turning back to Dean. "Your dad is in here with me. Trapped inside his own meat suit. He says 'hi', by the way." The demon moved closer to Dean. "He's gonna tear you apart. He's gonna taste the iron in your blood."

"Let him go, or I swear to God—"

"What? What are you and your God gonna do? You see, as far as I'm concerned, this is justice," the demon interrupted. Hannah let out an incredulous laugh. The demon turned to face her. "What's so funny?"

Maybe it was the pain, the stale air of the cabin touching the bone prodding out of her skin, but Hannah couldn't halt the stream of words coming out of her mouth. "Justice? You murdered their mother and Sam's girlfriend. What exactly are you getting justice for?"

The demon marched over to her and crouched down until they were eye level. The demon's hand encircled her damaged wrist, and the abrupt pressure made Hannah scream. She couldn't understand what Dean and Sam were shouting over her own crying. Agony pulsed throughout her arm and the pain threatened to override her consciousness. Just when she thought she couldn't take it anymore, the demon let go of her wrist.

"If it weren't for that damn thing around your neck, you would be dead," the demon murmured, then stood and made its way back to Dean. "You know that little exorcism of yours? That was my daughter. The one in the alley? That was my boy. You understand."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Dean muttered.

"What? You're the only one that can have a family? You destroyed my children. How would you feel if I killed your family?" Hannah lifted her head at his words. She could only see the demon's back, but she knew it was smiling. "Oh, that's right. I forgot. I did. Still, two wrongs don't make a right."

When Dean spoke, hatred seeped through his voice. "You son of a bitch."

"I wanna know why," Sam suddenly said, gaining everyone's attention. "Why'd you do it?"

The demon seemed amused. "You mean why did I kill Mommy and pretty, little Jess?" Sam gave a jerky nod. It turned to Dean as it said, "You know, I never told you this, but Sam was going to ask her to marry him. Been shopping for rings and everything."

Hannah's eyes widened. She knew Sam loved Jessica, but she hadn't realized the seriousness of their relationship. The demon maneuvered its way back to Sam. "You want to know why? Because they got in the way."

Sam's face reddened from how much he was straining against the pressure placed on him. "In the way of what?"

"My plans for you, Sammy," the demon answered pleasantly. "You and all the other children like you."

After those days dealing with Max, Hannah and Sam wondered if there were more people like him. Now the yellow-eyed demon was confirming it. She didn't know if they were under the demon's control, but she was afraid to find out.

"Listen, you mind just getting this over with, huh?" Dean asked. "Cause I really can't stand the monologuing."

"Dean, don't," Hannah pleaded, but he didn't look in her direction. Didn't he see what happened to her for mouthing off?

"Funny, but that's your M.O., isn't it?" the demon questioned, leaving Sam for Dean. "Masks all that nasty pain. Masks the truth."

"Oh yeah?" Dean smiled, but it all bitterness. "What's that?"

"You know, you fight and you fight for this family, but the truth is they don't need you. Not like you need them," the demon replied. Hannah winced from his barbed remarks. "Sam is clearly John's favorite. Even when they fight, it's more concern than he's ever shown you. And the sad thing is that when you do receive love, you can't take it. Isn't that right, Hannah?"

Dean stared at the demon, unmoved. If he was affected by its words, he hid it well. Hannah admired him for that. Don't give that asshole anymore satisfaction. She waited for him to respond, but when he did, she could tell it wasn't something good from the mirthless smile on his face.

"I bet you're real proud of your kids, too, huh? Oh wait, I forgot. I wasted 'em."

Hannah shared a look with Sam. The fear she so clearly felt was mirrored on his face. Then their fears proven true when Dean began to scream. Blood trickled out of his mouth, while his shirt darkened with it. Sam shouted for the demon to stop, but Hannah couldn't speak. She could only watch in horror as Dean, one of her closest friends and the man she loved, howled in pain. Ignoring the excruciating pain in her wrist, Hannah stood from her chair and picked it up with her good hand. Using the strength she had left, she swung it at the demon.

The demon stumbled and whipped around to face her, but she was already on the ground. "Don't know when to quit, do you?" it asked, then stamped its foot down on her ruined wrist. Hannah writhed on the ground, screaming until the demon kicked her in the stomach. The kick was hard enough to send her sliding across the floor. She closed her eyes, her lashes feeling heavy, but she couldn't pass out. Not now.

Then, somehow, Sam was released from his hold. He immediately dove for the Colt still on the edge of the table. The demon turned, its eyes that same frightening yellow.

"You kill me, you kill Daddy," reminded the demon.

"I know." Sam pulled the trigger and Hannah saw the bullet hit the demon's leg. John collapsed on the ground the same time Dean did. "Han, you're—"

"Put pressure on Dean's wounds," she ordered, struggling to sit up. Sam quickly took off his jacket and placed it over his brother's chest. She looked warily at John. He was breathing, but was the demon still in him? "Sam, how is he?"

"Awake," he answered, moving away. "Can you help him while I check on Dad?"

Hannah nodded and after counting to three, she hefted herself up and walked slowly over to Dean. She dropped to her knees beside him, using her good hand to put pressure over his wounds. His eyelashes fluttered and he lifted his head slightly.

"You'll be okay," Hannah murmured, leaning her forehead against his temple.

"You really think so?" he asked weakly. She nodded, nuzzling her face closer to his. He had to.

"Sammy!" Hannah sat up straighter at the sound of John's voice. "It's still alive. It's inside me, I can feel it. You shoot me. You shoot me! You shoot me in the heart, son!"

Sam raised the gun.

"Sam, don't you do it," Dean pleaded, trying to move. Hannah kept him still. "Don't you do it."

He looked over them, his resolve dwindling, even as John shouted at him to shoot. Then, in the middle of his own begging, black smoke erupted from his mouth. They watched the black cloud sliver through the floorboards and disappear. Even though it was gone, Hannah couldn't relax. The demon was still out there and ready to kill them.

After a tense moment, Hannah looked up at Sam. He held out his hand and pulled her to her feet. She bit her trembling lip and wrapped her good arm around his waist. Sam held her close, his heartbeat pounding in his chest. When they let go of one another, they silently helped Dean up and led him to the Impala. Hannah slid in the backseat with him, wishing her wrist wasn't so banged up. Her first aid kit couldn't do much, but it would keep Dean in better condition until they reached a hospital.

Sam helped John into the passenger seat before climbing into the driver's seat. "Hold on tight, Dad," he said, driving so fast it almost felt like they were flying out. "The hospital is nearby."

"I'm surprised, Sammy," John said, the disappointment plain in his weary voice. "Why didn't you kill it? I thought we saw eye-to-eye on this? Killing this demon comes first. Before me, before everything."

She met Sam's eyes through the rear view mirror, then saw his gaze glide over to Dean beside her. "No. Not before everything," Sam finally said, returning his focus on the road. "Look, we've still got the Colt. We still have the one bullet left. We just have to start over, alright?"

As he spoke, Hannah glanced outside then widened her eyes at the bright headlights coming towards them. "Sam, look out!" she shouted, but before he could do anything, it slammed into them and everything went black.