1.47 am - Newport, Rhode Island
Dean ran down the stairs, his gut churning as the wail of a siren rang louder in his ears, as he spun around a faced the kitchen, he saw smoke and he felt bile rise in the back of his throat. As he ran into the kitchen he saw Hannah beating unsuccessfully at flames that were steadily creeping up the curtains over the sink.
Dean spotted a small fire extinguisher mounted on the wall near the stove and he headed for it. "Sam" he yelled as he moved hoping that his brother would follow his lead.
"I got it." called Sam reading his brother flawlessly, the taller Winchester nearly knocking Hannah off her feet as he hurried over and pulled the curtain rod from the wall, flaming curtains and all.
Sam dropped the curtain rod on the floor and stood back to let Dean attack it with the foaming fire extinguisher. The flames were eventually smothered by a sticky film of white foam, leaving the blackened curtain to smoke on the floor.
Dean tossed the fire extinguisher to Sam and turned to Hannah, who was staring wide eyed at the mass of smoking fabric on her kitchen floor.
"Are you all right? What happened?" said Dean grabbing a hold of her arms.
Hannah looked at him for a long moment her eyes wide and in shock and then to his amazement she began to laugh.
"What?" he said looking to Sam to see if Sam had any insight as to what was so funny. Sam just shrugged but he couldn't help a smile coming to his own lips at Hannah's strange response.
Hannah could hardly breath for laughing, it was either that or cry and she sure as hell was going to do that, she bent over double clinging to Dean's arm as great howls of laughter rolled up from her chest.
Dean was slightly taken back by the Doc's response, but in the face of her laughter he too couldn't keep a straight face. He found that he was snickering and he could hear Sam next to him doing the same, and when the brothers exchanged a look, the snickering grew to full blown laughter. They weren't quite sure what they were all laughing at, but once it started none of them could stop.
Dean felt his eyes tear up and his side began aching. Sam had braced himself against the kitchen counter and his shoulders shook as he laughed. Hannah had almost buried her face against Dean's shoulder and she clung to him for support her laughter so strong it had gone beyond noise and was just the ragged attempts at breathing.
As the crescendo of laughter died down, Hannah straightened herself up and took a much needed gulp of air.
"Christ" she said "I need a drink" and without another word she left the two brothers and went into the living room. Sam and Dean followed her and watched as she poured three glasses of brandy from a crystal decanter that sat on the side board.
She handed a glass to Sam and Dean and then took one for herself going to sit down on one of the plush sofas. Dean sat down next to her still looking at her expectantly and Sam took a position opposite them across the coffee table on the Sofa that was its twin.
"So are you going to share what just happened in there Doc or should we guess?" asked Dean, sniffing the brandy suspiciously but taking a quick sip none the less.
Hannah held the brandy glass in her hand, swirling the dark liquid around in the bottom of it. She didn't look at either one of the brothers, choosing instead to watch the hypnotic flow of her drink.
"I accidentally blew up the kettle as I was trying to make us tea." confessed Hannah taking a measured sip from her brandy.
"What and that's what caused the curtains to catch alight?" asked Sam, who held his glass but hadn't taken a drink from it yet.
Hannah looked at Sam, her blue eyes filling with pain. "No" she said in a near whisper "That's what made me angry at myself."
Sam and Dean exchanged looks of confusion at her words.
"Then I was overwhelmed by the tension that rose between the two of you and I got even angrier at myself and then poof….." she said miming the explosion that had set the curtains on fire.
Both Winchester's tensed at the Doc's words, they didn't want her to know that they had been talking about her, but it seemed very difficult to hide things from her.
"Doc" ventured Dean "There was no tension between Sam and I"
It sounded lame even to his own ears, but Hannah smiled at him for his effort.
"Dean" she said softly "You don't need to sugar coat it for me. While I don't know what words were said, the emotions came in loud and clear. I know why you were arguing."
Sam felt his blood run to his face, it was one thing to be suspicious of someone, it was quite another to be so transparent about it, particularly when you were in their home.
Hannah looked across the table at the younger Winchester her eyes solemn but sincere "Sam it's alright if you don't trust me. I understand I really do. And if the positions were reversed I'd probably feel the same way."
Sam looked at her pale face, watching for any signs of deception in her mannerisms but he did not speak or try and defend his feelings, the Doc could feel what he felt and no words could ever convey that adequately.
"Trust has to be earned and I haven't done a lot to earn it from you lately have I?"
At this point Dean cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable by the way this conversation was going.
"Doc, Sam and I have spoken and…."
The look that Hannah gave him, silenced Dean. It was one of such frank understanding that Dean felt foolish even continuing to speak. Hannah put a gentle hand on his arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She understood that Dean was trying to smooth out what was a highly uncomfortable situation.
"It's alright Dean. I know that Sam has questions." Hannah turned her grey blue eyes to Sam "I'll answer anything that you ask me."
"Doc, we don't have to do this now." protested Dean
"I think we do" said Hannah quietly "Sam is uncomfortable and you feel like your caught between a rock and a hard place. And then there is me who could set the house on fire at any moment…So if any of us are going to be able to get any rest, I think we need to do this now."
Sam placed his glass on the table and scrubbed his hands over his face. There was certainly a lot of turmoil within him and he wanted to latch on to some beacon of truth, anything that would help him navigate the murky waters that were his emotions.
"Why did you attack me?" he asked simply
Hannah took in a deep breath and let it out slowly trying to order her thoughts. She had made a request not to have her truth sugar coated and she would offer Sam the same courtesy.
"Sam, Dean told me what happened between you and the other chosen, he told me that you had been killed and he told me what he did to get you back."
At the mention of the bargain, Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"I don't know what happened to bring you back, but Sam you came back different."
"Doc." cried Dean mortified at the brutal frankness of Hannah's statement, but she wouldn't be silenced and one defiant look from her told him in no uncertain terms.
"I felt it as soon as I saw you in Wyoming. Hell you must feel it yourself."
Sam looked down unable to hold the Doc's scrutinising gaze.
"I do" he said quietly running his finger along the top edge of his glass.
"You have a well of power within you, so powerful that it frightens me a little." she confessed. "I know what its like to have all this power, and all these gifts thrust on to you. You feel and see and sense everything differently and it can be very disorienting."
Sam looked up at her; he wanted so desperately to believe her but a worm of doubt was still festering in his mind. She seemed to be speaking from personal experience and he just didn't want to go through what was going on inside him alone, but demons where tricky in that way, telling people what they wanted to hear and then manipulating them into doing exactly what they wanted.
"I thought if I could knock you out." continued Hannah "That I could then take you through what you sensed in the ward a little later, when it was safer and you were feeling a little more even. Foolishly I underestimated how strong you were and how quickly your preservation instincts would kick in. I had to take you down harder than I ever intended and I am very sorry for that."
Sam looked up again. He could tell by the look on Dean's face that Dean believed what Hannah was saying and he desperately wanted to, but something held him back.
"Did you kill your family?" he asked without preamble
Dean was now mortified by Sam's directness and he nearly said something, but Hannah put out a restraining hand. He noted that her face had grown pale and her eyes had become shiny with unshed tears, but she took a deep breath and composed herself before she spoke.
"Yes I did" she said quietly "I was under the influence of a demon at the time, but I bought it into my home and I unleashed it, so I alone have to accept responsibility for it."
Sam was somewhat taken back by her candour. He had expected her to try and find an argument to excuse her actions, but she had done exactly the opposite and taken responsibility for it. Sam was swamped with remorse; at first he thought it was his for asking her such a question and causing her so much obvious pain, but something about the feeling was alien to him and it dawned on him that he was feeling Hannah's remorse and grief.
"I'm sorry" confessed Sam "But I had to ask."
"I now." said Hannah grateful for the comforting hand that Dean had put on her shoulder.
"I only have one more question." said Sam looking almost apologetically at his brother "If the grimoires are so dangerous, why didn't you destroy them?"
Hannah sat up straighter in her chair, seemingly taken back by the question.
"In all honesty "she said sounding genuinely surprised "destroying them never really crossed my mind."
"Why?" asked Sam incredulously
"I guess for a couple of reasons." replied Hannah stuttering over her words slightly as she tried to order her thoughts on the subject. "I guess firstly it was pride. I'm an anthropologist and a good anthropologist would never destroy evidence."
"But they're evil." said Sam "Your saying that you kept them around for some academic pride."
"Sam the grimoires aren't evil. They're a tool yes and a weapon absolutely, but they are neither good nor evil"
Sam couldn't speak, he was lost for words unbelieving that she could even be making this argument.
"Guns are dangerous, bombs are dangerous, but on their own, they are neither good nor evil. It is how people use them that make them that way. Don't you see?"
Hannah was almost pleading with him to understand, but he just couldn't quite accept her argument.
"I'm sorry Doc, but after what you told us about your family, I think it's irresponsible not to have destroyed them."
"Sammy" interrupted Dean "We don't even know if they can be destroyed."
"But she should have at least tried Dean." argued Sam
"Perhaps" said Hannah quietly her eyes dropping to the floor in a look close to shame "Perhaps I should have destroyed them, but to me they represent knowledge and I just couldn't destroy that knowledge, not when I knew that it might be used to someday help someone. "
With her last words she looked meaningfully at Dean and it became clear to both the brothers that she had intended to look through the grimoires to see if there was some way to save Dean from his devils bargain.
That knowledge took all of the heat out of Sam's argument and he hastily took a sip from his brandy to try and ease his harried emotions.
"I'll take both of you to the vault in the morning "said Hannah quietly not looking at either brother "and if you feel that the best course of action would be to destroy them. Then that's what we will do."
No one spoke; they all just sat consumed by their own thoughts for a while.
"Dean" said Hannah quietly "Could I please trouble you to get something for my eye, it is starting to throb and it is making me feel a bit sick."
"Sure" replied Dean rising quickly from the sofa and walking into the kitchen.
Hannah leaned across the table to Sam and whispered in a low tone. "Having someone suspicious of you is not necessarily a bad thing, particularly when one considers how we came by our 'gifts'. Dean's loyalty and his hunger for a sense of family sometimes blind him to the faults and failings of those around him, so it is down to you and I. If you keep your suspicion of me, be my check and balance, I promise I will do the same for you."
Sam sat up tall in his seat, slightly surprised by Hannah's words. She wasn't asking for his trust but she was proposing a way that they coexisted. Sam held her intense gaze for a long moment before he nodded his head. She smiled and held out her hand, he took in his own and they shook to their new understanding.
"Will frozen peas do?" said Dean as he walked into the room completely unaware of the truce that had been struck.
"That should work fine." said Hannah smiling at him.
Dean had the good sense to bring a tea towel with him from the kitchen, so he wrapped the packet of peas in the towel and handed it to Hannah who eased it on to her rapidly swelling face.
Sam stood downing the last of the brandy in his glass and feeling warmth spread through him. He wanted to attribute the sensation to the brandy, but he knew that it was more than the drink. Having spoken about his suspicions and having come to an understanding, Sam now felt a hell of a lot better.
"I'm pretty wiped." he confessed honestly "Do you mind if I crash somewhere?"
"I put your stuff in the front bedroom" said Dean "Top of the stairs, hard right."
"Thanks" said Sam "Well, Goodnight." he said before disappearing up the stairs.
Dean followed his brother with his eyes and then turned to watch as Hannah rested her head on the back of the sofa, balancing her makeshift icepack on her face.
"Well this night has been one for the books." muttered Dean "Do you mind if I have another drink?"
"Knock yourself out." Hannah didn't look at him as she spoke but she could hear him move around the room and she felt an odd comfort to his presence.
"So" said Dean throwing back his second brandy "You often set the curtains on fire?"
Hannah couldn't help chuckling a little. "No, not often. When I first got my gifts I set some other things on fire, a few books; a coat; the shrubs by the driveway, but they were my first curtains."
"So what happens?" he said sitting back down next to her on the couch "you just think fire and you have a Drew Barrymore moment and something burst into flames?"
"To be honest" Hannah said sinking further down in the sofa to get a little more comfortable "I haven't looked too closely at it. Of all the gifts I have that is one of the more dangerous."
"I don't know Doc, from what I remember you seemed to have it pretty under control in Iowa." replied Dean remembered how the Doc had walked out of the inferno that was the Sorginak's house without so much as a scratch.
"Yeah well desperation can give you that necessary focus to get it right?" she said absently
Dean listened to her words, slightly troubled by them. He looked between where she was on the sofa and the glass of brandy in his hands debating if he should ask the next question. Oh screw it, he thought, they were having a 'throw your cards on the table' kind of night, there was no point stopping now.
"Is that how you did the bullet trick?"
"I think so" said Hannah entirely too casually for Dean's comfort levels "I've often played that scenario through in my head, but I've never had cause to test it until today."
Dean swallowed hard, thinking carefully about his next words.
"What happened with Mike then?"
Hannah stiffened slightly at Dean's words and lifted the cold pack from her face to look at him. He shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny, but held her intense gaze none the less.
"I don't know?" she said, her voice thickening with emotion "I tried to grab on to something, but the energy just slipped away from me."
The unsteadiness of her voice sparked every protective male instinct within Dean and without thought he moved closer to her, putting a comforting arm across her shoulders. Hannah turned into Dean's arm, resting her unbruised cheek against his chest. Normally Hannah would never have accepted such a gesture, but tonight she was at the end of her ability to stalwartly cope and she was grateful to Dean for his understanding.
Dean took the cold pack that sat idle in Hannah's lap and he bought it up to her swelling cheek, cradling her head in his hands.
"It was so strange, I don't think that was Mike. I think Sam was right, I think he was dreaming. The things he was saying just didn't make sense; like in his mind he was doing it to someone else." Hannah continued, feeling Dean rest his cheek on the top of her head. It was an intimate gesture, out of character for both of them, but together coupled with the events of the evening it seemed right.
Dean felt Hannah's distress as if it were his own. He took a deep breath trying to dispel it like it was smoke in his lungs and he felt Hannah do the same, like she was synchronising her breathing to his.
He concentrated on taking deep calming breaths until he began to feel Hannah relax against him, he moved slightly so as not to disturb her and noticed that she had dropped off to sleep.
Dean leaned back letting his head rest on the back of the Sofa, he had no intention of going to sleep, but he wasn't going to get up and risk disturbing the Doc. It wasn't long before sleep overtook him too.
7. 37 am - Newport, Rhode Island
Dean awoke with a start and was slightly disoriented about where he was. He had fallen asleep on the sofa in an awkward position but someone had put a blanket over him so at least he wasn't cold.
He stretched his neck trying to work out the stiffness in it and looked around. He had expected to see Hannah asleep on the sofa next to him, but the sofa was empty. In fact the whole room was empty. Dean tossed back the blanket and went into the kitchen. Morning sun poured into the large windows and Dean's breath caught in his chest as he saw for the first time, the wide vista of the Atlantic Coast.
Doc's 'cottage' was impressive at night, but during the day it was nothing short of spectacular. She had a complete 180 degree view of the Altantic and the Newport Island coastline and at this time of the mourning with the sun still low in the sky, the Atlantic looked like liquid silver glinting in the early mourning light.
Dean suddenly noticed that the mess in the kitchen from last nights little mishap had already been cleared and a pot of coffee stood hot and ready on the bench. Dean grabbed a mug from the side of the sink and poured himself a coffee. He looked with awe at the Doc's house.
Through a short hallway from the kitchen, was the dinning room and off the dinning room was a set of double doors leading to a deck where a pair of sun lounges and a low table sat. Dean went through the doors, out into the morning air and was struck by the salty breeze that blew in off the ocean. He stood for a moment feeling the sun on his face and smelling the breeze.
He looked over the rail of the deck to a larger deck that could be accessed from the floor below. That Deck was the same width as the house and had a hot tub built into it. Beyond that the land drooped away sharply and he could make out the waves as they beat against the coastline. During a storm, this house would be the most incredible vantage point.
As Dean studied the aspect and layout of the house, thinking of all of the party possibilities that could be had in a place like this, music drifted up to him from the lower levels. Dean had planned to sit out in one of the sun chairs and enjoy his coffee, but the curiosity got the better of him and he decided to go downstairs and see where that music was coming from.
Dean trotted down the stairs into the large room down there. The layout on this floor was fairly open, and he saw how the architecture of the place meant that you could open up the door to the lower deck and utilise the outside and inside space all together.
There was a bar and a full sized pool table off to one side and on the opposite side were large cushioned sofas and a state of the art television and sound system. This house had certainly been designed with entertaining in mind. As Dean came to that conclusion, there was something infinitely sad about that.
Here they all were in this great house were one could throw a killer party and Dean could count the number of people he would invite on one hand. He was pretty sure that the Doc was in the same boat. The only one who had any kind of chance was probably Sam, who still stayed in touch with some of his college friends, but event then he would probably have to stretch.
Dean pushed those thoughts from his mind as he followed the music to the room that he knew was the Doc's Study. The door was open and he could see the floor to ceiling bookshelves along every wall. They even had one of those cool ladders on rails so that one could get to the books on the top shelves.
Dean lent his hip on the door jam and looked into the room. Considering how light the rest of the house was, Doc's study seemed quite dark. There was only one small window, which had an aspect that looked down the Newport Island coast line. In one corner of the room, there was a large oak desk, that Dean knew once belonged to Hannah's father and framing that were two leather couches the colour of wine, that made an intimate space around the desk.
Under the window Hannah sat at the baby grand piano, playing completely oblivious to Dean's presence. Her eyes were closed as her fingers moved over the keys. Dean wasn't sure if this was just a habit that she had while she played or if it was just more comfortable for her injured eye. The Doc's eye had nearly swollen shut and the bruise had turned an impressive deep red.
It was obvious that she had showered and changed her clothes, and her hair sat in shiny waves down her back. Even with the world's best shiner, the Doc had a refinement about her that Dean found remarkable.
Dean recognised the tune that she was playing, although he was sure that he had never heard it before. Like some of the things in Hannah's home, Dean had borrowed memories of them and while it was strange to have memories of things you knew nothing of, there was also something comforting in it. He felt comfortable here, like it was home and yet he didn't really have any idea of what home was, he hadn't had one since he was five years old.
The melody Hannah played reached its crescendo and Dean felt a deep pain in his chest, sorrow overwhelmed him and at the same time, there was laughter and humour and memories of being loved. He had to close his eyes against the onslaught of emotions that hit him, he knew they were not his, but that didn't mean he felt them any less intensely.
Music had always been important to him, brining up memories of his childhood and hunting with his father. That is why he had never really developed a taste for modern music, the soul of the music was in the memories that it invoked and modern junk just had no soul.
Hannah finished the last chord and her head dropped forward as if she was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion.
"That was beautiful Doc." said Dean, wincing slightly as her head snapped up in alarm. He hadn't meant to startle her. When she saw that it was Dean she relaxed visibly and gave him a censored smile.
"Your brother's favourite." Dean said knowing without needing to be told.
"It's from the movie 'The Piano'" she said "Michael hated the movie but loved the film score. I never understood how he could do that." Hannah smiled longingly at the memory of her brother. "I hope I didn't wake you?" she said as a sudden afterthought.
"No" said Dean holding up the coffee mug "I smelled the coffee."
Hannah went to rise from the piano, but Dean wanted her to play on.
"Play something else." He prompted moving into the room to try and encourage her.
Hannah looked slightly taken back for a moment "Like what?"
"I don't know? Anything! Play your favourite." he said
Hannah settled back down on the piano stool, her head cocked in thought for a moment and then she placed her hand caressingly on the keys.
"What about this?" she said and her left hand began a gentle dance across the keys to start the song.
Dean leant on the piano watching her fingers on the keys until he realised that he recognised the tune that she was playing, and this time it wasn't someone else's memory, he actually did know this song. He straightened sharply listening harder, he was sure he recognised this song and it thrilled him that she had picked something that he would know.
He turned his ear toward where the sound resonated in the deep body of the piano in an attempt to pick the tune better. There was no doubt, he recognised it, but played on the piano it sounded different.
"Holy shit" he exclaimed as knowledge flooded him "That's Metallica's 'Nothing Else Matters'!"
Hannah chuckled slightly at his exclamation, but didn't stop playing. "I love Metallica" she confessed "They've been a closet favourite of mine ever since I heard the S&M album."
Dean screwed his face up "Nah Doc! If you want great Metallica you need to get the early stuff, 'Master of Puppets', '…And Justice for All' and my personal favourite 'The Black Album.'
Dean's enthusiasm made Hannah's smile broaden, even though it made her cheek and eye ache. "I see that you're a Metallica connoisseur then. I have to confess that after hearing S&M, I went out and bought the entire back catalogue and nearly played it to death."
Dean inhaled a deep calming breath and looked at Hannah with renewed appreciation. He had a thousand questions that he wanted to ask her, but a knock from the door prevented him from doing so. He spun around at the sound and saw Sam standing in the doorway, his hair damp from a shower and a fresh set of clothes on.
"Um, I'm sorry to interrupt" Sam began "But our other guest has woken up and he is freaking out a bit."
Hannah got up from the piano and moved quickly to the door, walking only feet behind Dean.
"How'd he seem." asked Dean "Was he all Linda Blair or was he normal."
Sam shot Dean a look over his shoulder as he hurried up the stairs. "I didn't go in there, I only heard him."
"Yeah and what did he sound like?" persisted Dean
"Like a young guy who just woke up in a strange house tied to a bed." replied Sam drolly
The trio hurried up both flights of stairs, Dean checking to make sure his gun was loaded and ready as they went, when they reached the top Hannah stood outside the door. They could hear whimpering and crying from within and Hannah exchanged looks with both Sam and Dean.
"Mike" she said trying to make her voice sound calm, but Dean noticed that she held onto the door handle with a white knuckled grip. "Mike its Hannah, can I come in?"
"Where am I?" whined the response from the other side of the door.
Hannah opened the door and moved into the room. She had a heartbeat of hesitation as she laid eyes on the body in the bead, which didn't go unnoticed by the brothers, but she recovered quickly and continued into the room standing at the foot of the bed.
"How are you feeling?" she said gently as she looked at the tear streaked face of the young man in the bed.
"Why am I tied to the bed?" he asked as he watched nervously on as Sam and Dean positioned themselves on either side of the bed.
"Well you kind of had a Mr Hyde moment last night pal and gave your host that world class shiner" said Dean studying the young man "Which I think is down right ungrateful and then you tried to shoot me, which I really take exception to. So I tied your ass to the bed."
Mike looked bewildered his eyes travelling from the faces of each person in the room looking for confirmation for this wild story, until they fell on Sam's. His brow knit together as he studied Sam for a minute.
"Who are you?" he said, his voice showing a measure of calm that his face did not reflect.
"I'm Sam." replied the taller Winchester looking down at the young man with intense eyes. The Sam of old may have been sympathetic to the young man's plight, but the Sam that stood before him now was harder and less empathetic to someone who had tried to shoot his brother.
"Now the question of the day" interjected Dean "Is if we untie you, are you going to go berko and make me shoot you, or are you going to be cool?"
"I'll be cool" whimpered Mike, repeating it a couple of times for emphasis.
Dean looked to Hannah to make sure that she was alright with that and she gave him and almost imperceptible nod. He was impressed at how she was holding up. Generally it wasn't easy for a victim to face their attacker, but Hannah seemed to be doing it with her trademark stoicism. Dean did notice however, that when they started to untie the knots holding Mike in place, Hannah had strategically moved to put Dean in between them.
As Mike waited for the ropes to be untied he looked at Hannah, studying her face.
"Did I do that to you?" he asked, his voice filled with both disbelief and disgust.
"Yes" said Hannah quietly, but for some reason she couldn't hold the intensity of his gaze, so she looked down at where Dean was working on the ropes.
"I'm sorry" Mike said weakly "I don't remember doing that."
"What do you remember?" asked Sam, finishing with the ropes at Mike's arms.
The boys face clouded over. "Not much" he said quietly lost in thought "It's like a really bad dream. First that thing took over my body and it made me do things…things I didn't want to do. Then I remember you." he said looking at Hannah "I remember your voice and you patching me up and then I remember dreaming about the jocks who used to bully me at school."
Mike eyebrows drew together in concentration. "I dreamt that my coach showed up and said that as punishment for their bullying, I should do to them what they did to me. Well I did and when they got really angry and fought back, the coach gave me a gun and told me to shoot them, I didn't want to but they were running at me, so I shot them."
Realisation dawned on Mike and his face visibly paled as he sat up in the bed absently rubbing at his wrists. "That wasn't a dream was it? I was really shooting at you wasn't I?" Mike looked pleadingly at Dean, hoping he would deny it but knowing that he wasn't going to.
"That means…." he said covering his hand over his mouth as he looked at the Doc, his eye widening with the horror of what he knew he had done.
"Mike" said Sam sharply "This coach in your dream. Did he tell you what to do? Did he put you up to it?"
Mike didn't speak he just nodded.
Sam looked at Hannah "After you were taken out of my dream last night, I had a rather interesting visitor myself."
Hannah's head cocked at that her mind whirling into action as she considered the implications of what that meant.
"What? You think it didn't want me there, so it took me out of the equation using Mike?" she questioned.
Dean took two steps backwards looking between Hannah and his brother "Hold on a second, you were in Sam's dream?"
Hannah and Sam ignored Dean, both consumed by the train of thought that this was taking them down.
"Makes sense doesn't it?" said Sam not breaking eye contact with Hannah
"Yes I suppose it does" Hannah replied absently "But to what end?"
At this Sam's face looked blank and he shrugged slightly, then both turned to look at Dean.
"Hey" he said holding up his hands in front of him "Don't look at me, I don't even know what the hell is going on."
Mike shifted to the side of the bed, reminding everyone that he was still in the room and at his sudden movement Hannah took and unconscious step closer to Dean. The tiny gesture sparked something in Dean's male pride and he looked at her smiling in a reassuring way as if to remind her, that nothing was going to happen to her while he was around.
"We should check on Mike's dressings" said Hannah trying to keep her fear at the very idea out of her voice.
"I can do that" volunteered Sam and Hannah smiled at him gratefully.
Sam helped the young man out of bed and walked him to the bathroom, while Hannah and Dean headed down stairs.
"Doc, this is a whole new level of weirdness, even for us?" muttered Dean
"Have you ever come across anything that can manipulate dreams?" asked Hannah, her academic tone falling into place.
"Nothing beyond Freddie Kruger." replied Dean
" I know of a few references where people have been give prophetic messages or images of the future in their dreams but I've never heard of anything that can control dreams or more frighteningly control a person through their dreams. I'll have to hit the books after breakfast."
"Breakfast." said Dean longingly suddenly realising how hungry he was as he followed Hannah into the kitchen.
They chatted together as Hannah made breakfast. Dean rather enjoyed this little domestic ritual. Hannah would give him jobs to do and he would finish them and then pester her until there was something else that he could do. He had lived his entire life on the road, so he almost never cocked, if it didn't come out of a packet or a can he was all but stumped, but watching Hannah work gave him a peculiar satisfaction.
As Hannah was plating up the food, Sam emerged with Mike. The young man certainly looked better for having showered, but his eyes were haunted and his gaze was always fixed on some distant point until someone called his attention. Sam and Dean exchanged worried looks.
They felt bad for the poor guy. Most people lived in the delusion that the world was essentially a safe place to live, but the reality was that it was dangerous and human beings were well down on the universal food chain. People who had to accept this knowledge after a lifetime of delusion often had a hard time of it.
As the others ate, Mike just stared out at the ocean almost oblivious to the food in front of him. "What are you going to do with me?" he asked and all three stopped eating and looked at each other slightly bemused.
"I'm assuming that you have a home somewhere?" said Hannah looking to Sam for support. Sam had after all spent the most time with the young man, but he couldn't really help Hannah so he just shrugged and took a sip from his coffee.
"I have a place in New York. I lived there with my girlfriend Lala." Mike said his voice strangely hollow.
"Would you like to call her?" said Hannah
Mike looked up at her his eyes filling with tears. "I think she's dead. I think I might have killed her."
Hannah straightened in her chair and both Dean and Sam stopped eating at Mike's revelation.
"I don't know?" he wept "I kind of remember it in my dream, but it wasn't me, but if I did all those things to you, then I must have killed her."
"I'll go check it out" said Sam, taking his plate and hurrying away from the table.
Dean put his knife and folk on his plate, he hadn't finished but he couldn't just go on eating in the face of the possibilities that awaited them, so he looked at Hannah. She seemed distressed by Mike's revelation and Dean could understand. She was empathising with the young man and she knew intimately what he was going through.
"Mike" said Dean "Just hang tight here, and wait for Sam."
Dean stood picking up his plate and Mike's and he watched as Hannah followed his lead and picked her own plate up. They moved quickly into the kitchen where Dean deposited his load beside the sink and turned to take the plate from Hannah.
"Well this is a complication we weren't expecting." he said in a hushed voice.
Hannah just looked at him and nodded briefly, but Dean could tell by the way that she was avoiding eye contact with him that her mind wasn't really on what he was saying.
"Doc?" he said "You OK?"
Hannah looked him square in the eye, her own eyes switching from blue to swirling silver, but it was her simple answer that made Dean nervous.
"No" she said and Dean suddenly saw the depth of the internal battle that was being waged inside her.
"That boy is in exactly the same position that I was in two years ago." she said trying desperately to contain the maelstrom of emotions that was building up inside her "And my first instinct was to turn him over to the police. I know I should help him and I understand his position intimately, but I just can't quite move past the fact that he hurt me. I never knew I could be so petty."
Dean was taken back by the Doc's admission. It had been the last thing he expected to hear from her, but as she spoke it, he could completely understand her sentiment. Before he could speak Sam came into the room holding his laptop open to and article from the NY Daily News.
"Lala Hendrich was found murdered in her apartment two nights ago." he said turning the screen towards Dean and Hannah. "Says here she had been raped and then beaten to death and that police were on the lookout for her boyfriend who hadn't been seen since the night of her murder."
Dean hung his head, not only had the demon ruined Mike's young life, but it had also taken the life of his girlfriend in the most hideous and brutal way. At reading the article Hannah put her hand protectively to her throat, but she couldn't speak.
Sam's ears pricked up as he heard the dinning room doors open. A look of alarm passed between the trio and they raced in to where they had left Mike. He was no longer sitting at the table where they had left him, but had gotten up and let himself onto the deck.
Sam was the first to get into the room and he only had time to see the young man climbing up the rail that went around the deck before he threw himself off. Sam could see his intent clearly, and cried out in the hopes that he could buy enough time to get to him, but they were all too late.
Sam, Dean and Hannah raced to the rail and looked over in time to see Mike's body ricochet of the jagged coastal rocks before it plunged into the dark waters of the Atlantic. Hannah put a hand over her mouth to stifle a cry and Sam let his head drop forward in defeat.
"God damn it." yelled Dean striking the railing with his fist in frustration
"Why?" said Sam searching the surging ocean for any signs of Mike's body.
"Because sometimes the prospect of living with the things you've done is worse that the prospect of hell." Hannah said her voice tortured.
Dean looked at her, he was feeling as she felt again and her guilt and anguish were nearly overpowering him. He felt like he was suffocating and his flight instinct rose up sharply within him.
He turned away from the banister, stalking into the house on purposeful legs. He heard footsteps behind him but he didn't turn he just kept walking.
"Dean?" said Sam catching his brother roughly by the arm. "Where are you going?"
Dean turned angry eyes on him. He wasn't angry at Sam, but he could feel the frustrated pressure building up inside of him and if he didn't get out of there soon, he was going to take it out on those closest to him. Dean shrugged out of his brother's hold.
"I'm going out." he said barely restraining his rage, then he gathered up the keys to the truck and stormed out of the house. He felt Sam's eyes on his back the whole time, but he never looked back.
Sam hurried back out to the deck where he nearly crashed into Hannah as she was walking in. Her face seemed composed, almost serene, but eyes betrayed the turmoil of her emotions.
"Do you think we should call someone?" he asked feeling lame for finding nothing else to say.
"Who would we call and what would we say?" replied Hannah, her voice cold and almost devoid of any emotion.
"What? So he just becomes another forgotten casualty of war." hissed Sam feeling his anger rising in his throat.
Hannah caught and held his gaze for a full second, the anger and determination in her eyes almost made Sam shudder at the intensity of them.
"Not forgotten" she whispered "Never forgotten." she repeated before excusing herself and disappearing within the house.
Sam looked out at the perfect morning that was building around him. The sky was turning a rich blue under the intensity of the morning sun, and a soft breeze came to cool his face where the sun warmed it.
He sat down in one of the deck chairs facing out over the ocean. The beauty of the day seemed to be taunting him with the cruel irony of what had transpired just moments earlier. Sam felt adrift on a sea of confusion, which was a state that he seemed to be experiencing more often since Dean had resurrected him. He lay his had back massaging his temples feeling a slight pounding behind his eyes.
He couldn't imagine how, but somewhere between the sun warming his body and the sea breeze touching his skin, Sam drifted off to sleep…and he dreamed.
