Alright! And now its time for angsty emo-ness with Dean and Hannah! Yaaay hugs all around.

So as usual thank you EVERYBODY for all the reviews!!!!!

Oh, and about the wait, sorry guys, school started early this year cuz o construction on the buildin and it takes a while to get in the lieu of things (it also doesn't help when you have a butt-load of homework to look forward to each and every day too!)

Another excuse that deserves a spot in the apologies paragraph is the sad fact that I have caught up to typing what was already written in my notebook, and recently have had/has been having a ridiculously long writers block!!! Gah, the frustration!!!!! So, let us pray to the great fanfiction writer in the sky to help me get over this horrible affliction before I go crazy!!!!

Alright, now on with the story!!!

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Chapter 23

"Why Didn't You Kill Me?"

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Though his sight, mobility, and strength had been robbed from him, his brain remained, strangely, untouched by the poison and his mind was left to acknowledge as it pleased.

He felt Hannah and Sam carry his body into the warmth of the store, then a cold rush as they reached the cellar. He felt his weight shifted into a chair and thin ropes tighten around his wrists and ankles.

It seemed like he had been sitting there forever, unable to speak, unable to even pick his head up, but finally, he felt a hint of strength make its way back to him as he managed to wiggle his fingers and after about five minutes, he gathered enough strength to lift his head.

He surveyed the room. It was lit by a single naked bulb, but was otherwise only occupied by a small, extremely dusty, pile of folding furniture.

He heard a small sniff on his right and his attention turned to a figure sitting on the floor up against the wall. It was Hannah.

Her arms were wrapped around her knees and the back of her head was leaning against the wall. She was staring at the opposite side of the room and it was clear to Dean that she had been crying.

He opened his mouth, hoping to offer a word to the "wise-a$s"; something along the lines of "What ever happened to big girls don't cry?" but the words caught in his parched throat and were exchanged for a fit of coughing.

She was startled for a moment, but quickly pushed herself up and was immediately at his side with a bottle of water.

Her quiet voice told him to breathe slowly until the coughing stopped, and when it did, she pressed the bottle to his lips.

It felt somewhat soothing down his throat, but it did not satisfy his thirst, and as he felt the water slosh down to his empty stomach, he realized only one thing could.

When he finished, Hannah placed the bottle on the floor.

There was an awkward silence between them for a while that hung like a dead weight in the air. It pressed down upon both of them until Dean decided to end the uneasiness with uncharacteristic seriousness.

"Why didn't you kill me?" He asked darkly.

She didn't look at him, "That wasn't you."

"I don't care, Hannah! ...Back in the warehouse you promised to—"

She spun around to face him, "I didn't come here to be lectured on what I did and didn't do!" her voice quavered with frustration.

He narrowed his eyed, "Fine then, why don't you leave?" He nodded towards the door, "I don't see you tied to a fricken chair."

"Dean…believe me when I say that I'd give anything to have this any other way, but if I let you go, won't I just get told off for 'endangering' everyone?"

His gaze softened and he flashed a small smile, "Yeah, you're right, and ironically enough, it would be me who told you off."

They were silent for a few moments, in a sort of reflection.

"You know, Dean," Said Hannah after a time, "I already lost one person I cared about to a vampire, I don't want to lose another."

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"So how's Sam?" Dean asked with a slight pang of guilt.

"He's fine now, Amanda's patchin' him up, but that cut was pretty deep and he lost a bit of blood."

"Did I—…did I do anything?" he almost choked on the words.

"Don't you remember?" She asked curtly, then upon seeing his face, instantly regretted the words.

"Unfortunately, I do." His expression was pained.

She opened her mouth to apologize, but he stopped her.

"It's alright." He said gently, "Just tell me if there's any lasting damage."

She nodded, swallowing hard, "His throat's a little bruised, but that it. You didn't really get a chance to do anything else…"

"Thanks to you." He added, making sure that not a hint of sarcasm escaped in his voice. He wanted Hannah to know he didn't blame her for what she had done.

She blinked, a questioning look coming to her face, "What—…what does it feel like—blood lust I mean. It's just…the way you're acting, you know, right now, but then earlier with Sam… It's almost like you're bi-polar."

Dean gave a small snort, wishing, as much as Hannah, that was indeed the case—anything but this…but hey, shit happens sometimes, (or if you're a Winchester, shit happens a lot of times) and when life throws you a curve ball… well, you can either accept it and strike out, or grab it by the horns and smack that sucker right outta the park…take your pick.

Dean Winchester definitely chose option two.

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A billion and one apologies for the short chapter, but like I said, I'm totally cursed with a block so I'm givin you guys this before I go on another painful, unplanned hiatus.

OH! And a bit of gushing. OMG HURRICANE DEAN!!!!! So which is more dangerous? A catergory 5 hurricane or one ridiculously beautiful man with a passion for cars, classic rock, and frisky women… Lol and I don't know about you guys but everything the weather reported are saying gets my head in the gutter (licks lips)

So, sadly I leave you until next time

-The Huntress