1:06 am Newport – Rhode Island

Hannah had struggled to get to sleep, tossing in her bed for an hour or two before she had finally fallen into the fitful sleep that now had her. She was dreaming and she was conscious of the fact that she was dreaming, the images filling her head, so absurdly discordant that it could only be the result of a dream.

One moment she was walking through the gardens of Oxford and then next she found herself in an austere Victorian house. It had been dimly light by candle mounted on the wall. The house contained no furniture and when she opened the door to the room that she was in, it lead to a long corridor with hundred of like doors all leading off of it.

Even in the dreaming state, Hannah's eyebrow drew together in confusion. Something about this dream didn't seem right. This house seemed foreign to her in some way. She couldn't quite explain why she had this feeling, but looking at the carpet and the décor of the house, she knew that this could not have come from her imagination.

She had grown up on an estate built in the Victorian period, she knew them intimately down to the patterns on the hall runners and the brass handles of the door. This house, seemed like what someone's idea of a Victorian house should be, like it was from a movie set or a theme park.

She pulled a candle from the wall and starting off down the hall, she tested each door that she passed. Some where locked, others lead to identical rooms like the one that she had started in. She kept walking on trying to understand the discordant feeling that she had in her gut.

A horrible idea formed in her head. She and Dean had shared memories in the past; perhaps their proximity meant that they were sharing memories now. Perhaps this wasn't Hannah's dream but Dean's.

Sick of randomly opening doors and worried that her suspicion was proving to be write. Hannah called out into the silence of the halls. "Hello!"

She waited for a heartbeat for any kind of response, and when none was forthcoming, she called out again. Somewhere down the hall she heard a muffled response. It seemed like it was coming from very far away. Hannah couldn't make out what was said, but there was no denying that she heard a voice.

She hurried down the hall, calling out and then waiting for the response to give her some indication of where she was going.

"Dean is that you?" she called opening doors in the vicinity where she had heard the last response. Again she found nothing until she opened one door that instead of leading to another empty room, lead to a corridor the looked to be part of a network of stair cases. She walked through looking over the banister that her hand rested on to see hundred of levels of walkways and stair cases.

It was like the house had been designed like one of these mind taxing Escher paintings. Depending on how you looked at it, the staircases that you were looking at looked to be going down, but were connected to the level above.

"Hello?" Hannah called again her voice echoing in the stair well that seemed to plummet down without end.

"Hannah?" was the response that she heard, and she quickly looked over the banister so that she could see the owner of the voice. To add to her confusion she saw Sam looking up at her from one of the lower levels.

"Sam? What the hell is going on?" she said

"I have no idea." he said "How'd you get in here, cause I've been stuck in here for hours?"

Hannah gave him a quizzical look. Something was definitely not right here. She had pretty much accepted that she was in someone else's dream, but she had assumed it had been Dean's. Instead she had somehow managed to get pulled into Sam's dream.

"Sam, what is the last thing you remember?" she asked still looking down at where he was on the floors below him.

Sam's face twisted in concentration as if thinking of anything outside of this house and its maze of stairs was difficult. "I don't know." he said helplessly "It's all a bit hazy. But I remember you telling me about the ward and then it goes a bit wacky."

"Wacky how?" persisted Hannah

"Well for some reason, I remember you attacking me and I had to fight you off" Sam seemed slightly embarrassed at the idea and his voice turned some what sheepish.

"And then?" pushed Hannah feeling her blood run to her face as she leaned out over the banister to see where Sam stood.

"Then nothing" said Sam "I was here. I keep thinking I can hear someone, but you're the first person that I've seen."

Hannah looked around at the stair cases that surrounded them on every side "Do you know where we are Sam?"

Again Sam's brows knitted together as he considered it. "No, but I have this strange feeling that I've been here before."

"Stay right where you are, Sam. I'm going to come to you Ok."

Hannah considered their situation as she jogged to the nearest stair case. She wasn't sure if this was Sam's consciousness or some 'dream Sam' that someone else had created. Hell for all she knew she was still in her own dream and this was one of her mental creations, but that explanation felt wrong to her.

She felt wrong, alien in this place, her instincts told her that this was someone else's creation and she trusted her instincts heavily. The question was whose creation was it. The likely candidate was off course Sam, but she couldn't discount the fact that she and Dean had shared a psychic connection in the past.

She turned onto the walkway where she thought Sam ought to be, but it was empty. Hannah called out to him looking down at the levels below. When he responded his voice came from above her. Hannah looked up into eyes that held the same confusion that troubled her.

There was no way in the world that she could have gone to the level below without having passed Sam along the way, yet somehow she had done just that.

"How'd you get down there?" questioned Sam, leaning out over the banister.

Hannah shook her head in irritation. "Bloody dream logic" she muttered under her breath.

"What the hell is going on here?" said Sam banging his hand on the banister in frustration.

"I don't know?" confessed Hannah "But I can offer you a theory."

"Well I'm not going anywhere in a hurry, so you may as well lay it on me."

"Are you sure?" questioned Hannah "I'm not sure you're going to like it?"

"Just tell me." said Sam resigned to hear whatever she had to say.

"I think we're in your psyche." said Hannah leaning backwards out on the banister so that she could watch Sam's reaction.

"Come again?" said Sam

"Sam I think this is an image that you have pulled from your subconscious and we are now stuck in it. A bit like a dream, but rather than just part of your consciousness being here, as it is with dreams, you and I, we're in boots and all."

"Why? I don't understand." he confessed but before he could answer his head shot up "Wait did you hear that?"

Hannah strained her ears "Hear what?"

"That voice" said Sam looking at the upper levels of the stairwell "That's the voice that I heard before."

A chill ran down Hannah's spine and her arms and neck broke out in goose bumps "Sam what is the voice saying?" she asked cautiously.

"It's just calling out my name." said Sam looking down at Hannah "Can't you hear that?"

A horrible thought occurred to her, Hannah couldn't hear the voice because she wasn't meant to. She really wasn't meant to be here at all. Somehow when they were both asleep, Sam had pulled Hannah into his dream, but she knew, in the same way that she knew how to breathe, that she wasn't meant to be here.

"Sam, listen to me and only me" she cautioned "ignore the other voice completely"

Sam looked down at Hannah quizzically

"Please just trust me Sam; you have to ignore that voice. Something really bad will happen if you don't."

Sam shrugged and kept looking down at Hannah "It wants me to come and find it." he said translating for her "It keeps calling my name and it is getting louder."

"I don't think it is good Sam, please just ignore it." said Hannah, but she could see the disbelief on Sam's face. She couldn't honestly blame him for being sceptical, after all, hadn't she found him by calling out to him.

"God" said Sam putting his hand over his ears "How can you not hear this?"

"Sam stay with me" said Hannah trying not to speak too loudly.

Before she could look up at him, Hannah caught a blur of motion out of the corner of her eye, she turned towards it but she was too late, someone had appeared from the door immediately behind her and collected her around the waist and in a tangle of arms and legs they had barrelled over the banister and begun falling down the stair well.

Sam didn't see what hit her, but he saw Hannah and something else fly over the banister. He cried out in shock and alarm, but there was nothing he could do, he just watched as she disappeared into the darkness of the stair well.


Hannah had the briefest sensation of falling and as she grabbed out to save herself she felt her mattress beneath her hands. There was a horrible weight on her chest and she couldn't draw breath. Opening her eyes she saw Mike looming over her, his eyes open but unfocused. He had his hand around her throat and he laughed in delight as his grip tightened.

Hannah tried to pry his hands from his throat, but she didn't have the strength. She couldn't breath and her disorientation and lack of breathe were driving her very quickly to panic. Closing her eyes she reached for her power, but is seemed elusive and every time she tried to grab on to it to wield it as she knew she could, it slipped away from her like water through her fingers.

She thrashed underneath the young man, but could not budge him and she started to feel the familiar darkness edging in on her.

"Not yet, you dirty fag." hissed Mike "You don't get out of it that easily."

With more strength than she imagined was in him, Mike threw Hannah from the bed on to the floor, whatever air had been in her lungs left her in a painful rush. She tried to gain her orientation quickly, but Mike was already on her. He back handed her hard, and pain exploded behind her eye, distracting her from the fact that he had flipped her over and was pinning her arms behind her back

"This is how we punish fucking fags." he hissed, dribbling spittle on to her face.

With his free hand he dragged the hem of her night gown up her leg, scratching her brutally with his fingernails as he did so.

Hannah cried out hoping that Dean would hear her, but the sound had barely left her lips when Mike hit her again knocking her senseless. He moved with unnatural speed and purpose, hooking one hand into her panties and tearing the lace that held them to her hip.

"This is what you want isn't it?" he taunted, unzipping his jeans and letting his full erection spring forth.

Seeing his intent, gave Hannah renewed strength and she thrashed beneath him, trying to hit him but being on her stomach severely hindered her movements. In her struggles she managed to knock over the small table beside her bed, the lamp sitting on it falling to the floor with a crash.


Sam watched on in horror as Hannah and her attacker fell out of sight. He ran to the first set of stairs heading down and flew down them taking them two and three at a time. He had no idea what he was doing, but his instincts told him to get to where they had fallen and he was listening to it.

He swung around the corner running along the hallway and then turned sharply down the next flight of stairs. He ran and just kept running until his lungs hurt .He wasn't sure how many floors he had gone down, but it seemed irrelevant he just kept running.

As he turned a corner sharply he came to an abrupt holt as a little girl stood at the bottom of the stairs. He had seen this little girl before, in fact her knew her better than he cared to. In life she had been the adopted daughter of Isaiah Merchant and in death she had haunted the portrait of the Merchant family, callously butchering anyone that owned the painting.

Sam's mouth dropped open in surprise at the sight her. The last thing he had seen of her was watching her spirit turn to dust.

She smiled up at him, her dark eye holding an eerie light.

"I wasn't sure how I should look when I came and spoke to you?" said the little girl "But of all the things in your head, I have to confess this one tickled my fancy."

She held her dress out and admired it as she swung the doll in her hand carelessly. "What do you think?"

"Who are you?" asked Sam his voice turning hard and his body coiling ready to defend himself.

"Relax Sam." it said "I'm a friend" the little girl looked down wistfully at her own form "Perhaps this wasn't the wisest choice for our first introduction."

Sam looked on as the form of the little girl shimmered and then morphed into that of his father.

"Is this better?" John Winchester said as he held out his arms for his son's inspection.

Sam's eye narrowed in suspicion "Who are you?" he repeated "Because I know you're not my father."

John Winchesters' face fell like he was somewhat crestfallen at the suspicion that was directed at him from his son.

"You're right. I'm not your father, but I am your friend."

"What do you want?" said Sam chancing a glance over the banister to see if he could see any sign of Hannah's body.

"I want you to live up to your potential. I want you to recognise your birthright." said John signalling for Sam to come down the stairs to him. When Sam didn't move, he sighed indulgently and made himself comfortable on the bottom stair.

"You are the last of the chosen, Sam. You were always destined for greatness."

Sam watched as the image of John Winchester studied some imaginary dirt under its finger nails.

"Hannah said that I shouldn't trust you." he said, eager to see what sort of reaction this being would have to that kind of news.

"You're going to trust her?" said John Winchester the incredulity thick in his voice. "Well that's rich, she allied herself with one of the nastiest demons in hell, she killed her own family to prove her loyalty to that bastard and now she is stock piling all of the grimoires for him."

"You're lying" said Sam, confident that he was right. That is what these things did. They mixed a little bit of truth in with a lot of fabrication to validate their stories, and Hannah had already told them about her run in with her demon.

"If I'm lying then explain this to me, why didn't she destroy the grimoires? Why keep them unless you intend to use them for something?" the form of John Winchester clicked its tongue disapprovingly "Sam, I honestly thought I taught you better than that."

Sam felt the question like a punch in the stomach. He had asked himself the same thing, but he had never bought it up with Hannah. He wondered now why he hadn't.

"Sam a war is here" said the being masquerading as John Winchester "Lot's of people are going to die, but you can prevent a lot of the blood shed."

"Really?" scoffed Sam "How?"

"Just make sure that the right person has hold of the weapons."

"And what you're telling me that 'right' person is you are you?"

The visage of John Winchester shrugged indifferently "Sam, you're a smart guy and I wouldn't presume to do that. You need to decide on your own."

A warning coursed through Sam. In the back of his mind he heard Hannah's warning words to him "Please just trust me Sam; you have to ignore that voice. Something really bad will happen if you don't."

This wasn't right, none of this was right. He looked around himself like he was just coming out of a day dream. His senses heightened, his eyesight narrowing down on the creature, his hearing picking up the brush of its clothing and the steady breath coming out of the John Winchester doppelganger.

His instinct told him to leap the banister and for an instant her mentally fought the idea, but the push was so strong, that in one smooth motion, Sam had gone from nearly standing still, to flicking his long legs over the banister and dropping down into the darkness of the stairwell.

He heard his father's voice cursing as he fell. Sam held his arms out as he fell, but instead of whistling through the air, they struck something hard. Sam looked across and realised that he was lying on a Sofa, not falling through a stairwell at all.


She didn't hear the footsteps as they raced up the stairs, she didn't hear the door as it flew open, the first moment that she realised Dean was with them, was when she saw his boot connect with Mike's head, mere inches from her face.

The force of the impact sent Mike sprawling across the floor, but he recovered quickly. Dean only had a moment to look down and see if the Doc was ok, before he had to ready himself for the next attack. Dean went for the gun at his waist, but before he could get a shot off, Mike had caught his wrist and collected him around the middle, pushing him hard into the wall.

The air left Dean's lungs, but it wasn't enough to prevent him from fighting back. Mike was trying to wrestle the gun out of Dean's hand and Dean used the tugging momentum to move the tussle around so that he was no longer pressed up against the wall. Mike struck out wildly, hitting Dean in the stomach and doubling him over.

As pain shot through him, Dean lost his grip on the gun; Mike was able to push him backwards so that sprawled over the floor, giving Mike a clear shot.

Hannah heard the scream erupt from her throat as Mike levelled the gun at Dean and pulled the trigger. Dean rolled his body to the side trying to protect his head and vital organs, he waited for the bite of the bullet but it never came.

He looked over at Hannah and her eyes were fixed on the bullet and they blazed molten mercury. The bullet sat suspended in the air mere inches from the gun. Even Mike took a moment to study the unexpected response of the bullet, but he recovered faster than everyone else and pulled the trigger several more times.

As the barrel of the gun flashed, Sam burst into the room. He could feel what Hannah had done to stop the first bullet and with an instinct born of fear, he mimicked it, reaching deep inside himself, and then sending his mind outwards until he had a firm hold of the next three bullets.

Dean didn't give Mike another opportunity to fire. While the younger man was distracted looking at the bullets that hovered almost motionless in the air, the older Winchester, swept his legs out from under him, hitting him hard in the jaw as he fell.

A heartbeat passed between Sam, Dean and Hannah and on a collective exhaled breath, the suspended bullets fell out of the air, clattering on the floorboards as they fell.

Dean looked at Sam, whose eyes were once again their warm brown instead of the burning amber. Then he looked at Hannah, who stared unmoving into the darkness.

"Damn" he said swallowing hard "Good timing Sammy. How the hell did you do that?"

Sam swallowed too, looking between Dean and Hannah, who still sat motionless on the floor, in her torn nightgown.

"I don't know" he admitted.

Dean moved quickly, sparing Mike a cursory look before he hurried to Hannah's side. He put gentle hands on either side of her face, trying to drag her focus on to him.

"Doc?" he whispered gently "Doc, are you alright?"

Hannah looked at him, but her eyes were unfocused, and wild in shock.

"Doc" said Dean again commanding her with his voice to focus only on him "Are you alright?"

Hannah swallowed hard, seeming to refocus her eyes on Dean, she looked at him for a second, and then she looked at where Mike lay on the floor and where Sam stood in the doorway.

Dean prompted her with his eyes to speak and she nodded a mumbled affirmation coming out of her mouth of its own accord.

"What happened Doc?" Dean asked "Did we miss something? Is this guy still possessed?"

"No" said Hannah realising that her voice was shaking as she spoke. "If he were possessed he wouldn't have been able to move around the house."

"Well that means that Mike was acting on his own then?" said Dean confused by the whole situation. He had seen Mike as they put him to bed and the kid had been more like a terrorised toddler than the love child of Jack the Ripper.

"No" said Sam as he walked into Hannah's bedroom and knelt down beside the unconscious young man. "I don't think he was conscious of what he was doing…I think he was asleep."

"You mean he did all of this like he was sleepwalking?" said Dean in a disbelieving voice.

"I think so" said Sam, watching as the young man's pupils moved rapidly like he was in full REM sleep.

"It would stand to reason." said Hannah fighting to hold herself together by turning to her intellect "My abilities went a bit haywire for a while, but I couldn't feel any strong emotion coming off of him. It was like he was blank."

"Or asleep." said Sam vocalising what they were all thinking.

"Well, I'm sorry but I'm not going to take any more chances with him tonight. Sam go and see if you can find any rope, we'll see how well he can sleep walk when he's tied to the bed."

Sam nodded and hurried out of the room. Dean swung his attention back to the Doc's, he hadn't realised earlier but she had taken hold of one of his hand's and was squeezing it with bone cracking strength.

"I'm going to take him back to the other room. Then you should let me have a look at that eye."

Hannah nodded her head a gesture that was part panic, part hysteria.

"Are you sure you're ok?" asked Dean dubiously. Hannah was tough he knew that, but an attack like this was enough to rattle anyone's chains.

Hannah turned her blue eyes on him and while they were full of tears, she would never let any of them fall. Dean could almost feel her pulling the energy close to protect herself, and when she gave him a wan smile he gave her hand one last squeeze before moving off to see to the unconscious young man.

"You're starting to make a habit of this passing out shit." he muttered as he pulled the young man none too gently across the floor "and unless your looking to really piss me off, I'd reconsider that."

Hannah was left alone in her room and she looked around herself suddenly bereft. With an indignant hand she straightened what was left of her night gown and willed herself to stand on legs that felt like they were made of bread dough.

She walked quickly over to the chest of draws next to her wardrobe, pulling a new pair of panties and some satin pyjamas out of the draw. With hands shaking with anger and shock she pulled what remained of her pants from her body, running her hand over the welts and scratches that were raising on her leg, then she quickly stepped into her fresh underwear and exchanged her torn nightgown for the pyjamas.

She rolled the torn lace and satin into a tight ball and slammed it down on her dressing table. She didn't know who she was angrier with, Mike or herself, but all she knew is that she could feel a coil of rage tighten inside her.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Changing her clothes had done a lot to help settle her emotions, but her hair was in a mess and she could see bruising starting to form on her eye and around her cheek. With shaking hands she picked up her brush and began taming her long wild hair. Almost on autopilot, she twisted her hair into a neat chignon and pushed a comb into the side to hold it all in place.

Hannah studied her reflection in the mirror, a voice inside of her was telling her that it was ok to break down and cry, but she had stopped listening to voices in her head a long time ago, even when they were her own. From a hook on the back or her bathroom door, she pulled a long black satin bath robe and slipped it over her pyjamas, and then with almost thoughtless ease she slipped her feet into her slippers and headed towards Mike's room.

"Will he be Ok?" Hannah whispered in an icy tone.

Dean looked up at her as he tied one of Mike's feet to the bead post. Like always she had groomed herself into the vision of perfection, but her face was cold and hard and her mouth was set in a grim line. He could see her eye starting to swell, but it was like if she ignored it strenuously enough it would go away.

"He's going to have a very sore head tomorrow, but he's alive, so all things considered I think he'll be ok. What about you?" said Dean "You Ok?"

Hannah's expression did not change she just nodded slightly and whispered "Just so." Her voice held neither inflection nor intonation, but her body language spoke volumes. She held herself very rigid, with her arms crossed tightly over her chest and her chin was raised almost in challenge. Her eyes were sharp, and her mouth set, but she did not move into the room. Even though Mike was tied up, she remained very deliberately on the other side of the door jam.

Dean couldn't exactly blame her for her reluctance, but he thought it was interesting that she wasn't handling this quite as well as she wanted everyone to believe. He had worked out from their last meeting that appearances were very important to the Doc, but he hadn't really understood how deeply that instinct had run until now.

"He's not going anywhere like this." said Dean pulling on the rope he had just tied for emphasis. He hoped that if he could convince her of Mike's incapacity, she might feel more at ease. Hannah's demeanour did not change; she simply eyed the prone form coldly from her position of safety by the door.

"I might go and put the kettle on "she whispered turning away from where the two brothers were working. She took two steps down the hall and then turned back looking over her shoulder. "I'm glad to see you up and about Sam."

With that she disappeared down the hall. Sam looked up from where he was tying up Mike's wrist and watched with hard eyes as Hannah disappeared out of site.

"What's that about?" said Dean watching his brother and missing none of the scathing look he had directed towards the Doc.

"Nothing." muttered Sam dismissively

Dean grabbed hold of Sam's arm and spun him so they were looking eye to eye. "Don't try to bullshit a bullshitter Sam. What is your problem?"

"What's my problem?" repeated Sam working hard to hand on to his temper "Not so long ago that woman attacked me."

Dean hissed air through his teeth "Sam she didn't attack you, she was just trying to knock you out."

"Generally speaking anyone trying to do that is attacking you." protested Sam

"She only did that because you pointed a gun at her." said Dean annunciating each word to stress his point.

"Yeah Dean?" said Sam inching closer to his brother "Well I don't trust her."

Refusing to be intimidated by Sam's superior height Dean took a step closer too "Well I do!"

"Why Dean?" demanded Sam "Why would 'Mister I don't trust another human being in this world' suddenly come to trust her."

"Sam, have you completely lost your mind?" replied Dean "She saved both our asses in Iowa."

Sam stood firm his mouth set in a grim line "And she got her hands on another grimoire!"

"Yeah…So?"

Sam looked at his brother, his blood pumping hot in his veins. He had no idea why he was using the words of the presence in his dream, particularly when every instincts inside of him wanted to write it off, but he felt caught between two mighty forces that were pulling him in two directions an he had no answers to make an educated choice which way to go.

"Why does she keep the grimoires Dean?" hissed Sam through clenched teeth "If they're so dangerous, why keep them? Why not destroy them, or send them to the bottom of the ocean or do any of 100 other things to them?"

"I don't know!" blustered Dean " Maybe they can't be destroyed. Maybe they have some homing spell on them to make sure they are always found. Maybe…."

"Maybe Hannah wants to use them for herself?"

Sam and Dean stood toe to toe, so close their chests almost touched.

"You don't know anything about it?" said Dean dangerously low. As he faced off with his brother, the memories of Hannah's raw emotions, the pain and horror of what her choices had bough to bear on her life filled him.

"Oh and you do?" retorted Sam in the same predatory tone. "You know this woman so well?"

"Yes I do." said Dean without hesitation.

"Oh, so you know how she killed her own family then?" spat Sam, looking for the words that would give him the winning blow. He waited for Dean to comprehend the words, to look at him with the same kind of horror that Sam felt in saying them, but instead Dean's gaze held steady.

Realisation dawned and Sam couldn't help his jaw slackening in shock. "You did, didn't you?" he said, his shock quickly turning to accusation "You knew that she killed her family and you didn't tell me?"

Dean took a step back letting the air escape out of his lungs on a heavy sigh. "Sam it isn't what you think."

Sam's eyes narrowed as he looked at his brother. "You don't have a god dammed clue what I think? I can't believe you kept this from me?"

"Sam, the Doc asked me to keep it to myself and I figured I owed her that much."

"Let me get this straight" said Sam almost doing a double take "Hannah tells you that she murdered her family and not only did you not tell me, but you're OK with this?"

"Sam she didn't do it, the Demon that possessed her at the time did." said Dean, his frustration at this whole situation rapidly starting to rise.

"Is that what she told you?" replied Sam, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Dean's tenuous hold on his temper snapped, before he realised what he was doing his fists were twisted in the front of Sam's shirt. "She didn't tell me shit Sam. I lived it with her like I was there in the room when it happened and I'm telling you, she didn't kill her family any more than you killed Jessica or Mom. So even if you don't trust her…trust me."

Sam tensed under the onslaught of Dean's anger, but as quickly as it sparked it was now fading. Dean let got of Sam's shirt smoothing the fabric out under his fingers like he wanted to smooth out the tension that was passing between them.

"Sam" began Dean, his tone quieter and more even "I died back there in Iowa, drowned in the creek that ran behind the Sorginak's house and the Doc revived me. We don't know how it happened, but while she was brining me back I lived the Doc's memories of the night her family was killed. I witnessed everything and I know she didn't kill them."

Sam looked at his brother in stunned silence. Dean had said nothing of that incident to Sam. On some level Sam was upset by this, but at the same time he was proud of his brother for not betraying Hannah's confidence. Sam still wasn't sure if he trusted the Doc, but he had no doubts about Dean. Dean had sacrificed everything for Sam and that left him beyond reproach.

"Aright" said Sam quietly "but we still need to ask her about the Grimoires?"

"I know" said Dean conceding the point "but not tonight. I think we've all had enough for one day."

Sam was about to speak, when a piercing siren blared throughout the house. Both Dean and Sam stiffened readying themselves for action. Dean's eyes went from his brother to down the hall. At the incessant screech of the alarm, all of his thoughts turned to one thing.

"Doc" he said with panic in his voice, before he launched himself down the hall with Sam at his heels.