Newport – Rhode Island 9:12am

Dean speed down the road finding the cadence of the road beneath the wheels soothing. It felt that everything had all gone to shit so quickly, but as distance gave him a little clarity, Dean realised that things had been getting bad for a very long time. For a brief second he had pang of regret that he hadn't stayed in the Djinn's illusion and just lived out the rest of his life happy and content...even if it had been a lie.

Dean dismissed that thought quickly. There was no point dwelling on things that couldn't be changed. He had to face that he was going to have a long hard slog throughout this year and then he was going to send his soul to a fiery hellish torment. This was truly the start of the war and already the casualty count was on the rise. There was no telling how many unknown deaths had already occurred as a result of the demonic horde but Dean knew of at least two young kids who deserved anything in this world but the cards that they were dealt.

The look on Mike's face before he threw himself off the deck flashed in Dean's memory. There was an understanding in his eyes; recognition; an acceptance of his fate and an element that told Dean that Mike himself thought this a fitting punishment for his crimes.

Dean hit the steering wheel as his anger flared momentarily. What sins had the kid been guilty of. This was more a case of some poor shmuck being in the wrong place at the wrong time...basic collateral damage. The needlessness of it ate away at him. He wanted to believe that they could have helped Mike out, but Hannah's words played through his mind.

"Because sometimes the prospect of living with the things you've done is worse that the prospect of hell."

With those words in mind, Dean turned his thoughts to Hannah. Her situation had been exactly the same as Mike's, maybe even worse as she had no one who was willing to help her, and yet her outcome had been so much different. Where did she get the strength to resist the temptation just to end it all? Dean knew that she had considered taking her own life, he heard is in her voice when she had spoken those words, but somehow she had managed to look beyond that as an option.

Why? Why was it that when faced with great adversity some would fight and others would just let them selves become collateral damage. It was the same intangible thing that had led John Winchester to become a hunter and not to turn out to be an abusive alcoholic like Max Miller's father. It was that same intangible thing that drove Bobby and Ellen to fight on knowing that the odds were overwhelmingly stacked against them and as Dean considered it, he realise it had been the same thing that had prompted him to make a deadly deal with the enemy just to get Sam back.

Dean had simply followed the coastal road and quickly found himself in the heart of the small town there. He stopped, watching the pedestrians cross, blissfully unaware that they were all walking blithely through a war zone. He watched as a little girl walked hand in hand with her mother, her mother smiled down at her as they crossed and the small interaction reminded Dean exactly what he was fighting for.

Yes it was tragic what happened to Mike but Dean realised that he couldn't afford to waste his energy on single losses. Of course he understood that he should never loose sight of them but there was a bigger picture to be considered here. If he took every death so hard his anger would cripple him in a few months and the war would be far from won. He had sung the same tune to Sam just after Jessica had been killed, and now it looked like he would have to take a leaf from his own book. However it was certainly easier said than done.

Dean took a deep cleansing breath and pulled away from the traffic lights, he followed the road unsure of where he was going, but happy just to be driving. Everything always seemed a lot clearer behind the wheel. Maybe that was just what he was used to, but the hum of and engine always made everything better. He did however miss his Impala and of course the box of tapes that lived behind the drivers seat.

Dean turned on the radio and switched between several stations until he found something that he could stomach, and then he followed the signs along the costal road to a lookout on one of the headlands. As he climbed the hill the Atlantic Ocean and the coastline spread out before him in all of its magnificence.

He pulled the truck over and stood at one of the lookout points. The opulence of the properties that were built behind him seemed insignificant to the grandeur and power of the ocean. He opened both doors of the truck, turned the radio up and climbed up on the hood of the truck, resting his back against the windscreen.

There was salt spray on the wind, carried up from the massive wave that pounded against the headland. He let that douse the fires of his anger as he sat there and contemplated the year that was ahead of him.


Hannah felt sick to her stomach as she walked through the house to her study, she closed the door not wanting to be disturbed by anyone and she sat down at her father's desk. She scrubbed a hand across her face battling to contain the tears that had built up behind her eyes.

She rested her head in her hands, massaging her temples. Mentally she berated herself, what good was having all of this power, all of these gifts at your disposal if you couldn't prevent innocent people from getting hurt.

She had made a vow that she would never allow what had happened to her happen to any other living soul, but today she realised that was a vow that she could not possibly keep. She had battled to remove all of the grimoires from the equation, but it didn't matter, people were being exposed to the demons anyway. Good people, people with a future and a girlfriend and an apartment in New York.

Her heart broke as she considered Mike's girlfriend. She died thinking that it was Mike that had violated and killed her when in fact Mike was as much a victim as she was. Hannah had often held on to the fantasy that at the point of their death her family had realised that the thing killing her couldn't possibly have been Hannah, but the shock of Mike's death had shaken her to her very core.

A part of her practical academic brain, considered what Mike had done had been ultimately the best thing that could have happened for them. They were not entirely sure what to do with him and that he would have been a wanted man, made it that much harder to help him. His death had saved them a huge amount of time and effort that could be better applied to the wider problem at hand.

Hannah cursed herself for those thoughts and wondered at what point her compassion had died. She felt shame burn in her cheeks. She had seen Dean's reaction and knew how deeply he had taken Mike's death and the fact that she could even be considering an upside to the young man's untimely demise made her cringe inside. What would Dean think of her if he even knew that she was entertaining ideas like that?

That thought bought Hannah up short. She had never been one to worry about what others thought of her. It had been an uncharacteristic position to take given her wealth and her social standing, but it was one that Hannah had adopted as a girl. She had always cared for her families good option, but beyond that she never really thought about anyone else until know.

Hannah thought on it, needing to understand it in the same way she needed to understand mathematical equations and philosophical principals. The short answer was that Hannah admired Dean. To a certain degree she admired Sam as well and what they were both trying to do, but it was much harder to admire someone who you feared.

Dean on the other hand had selflessly given up his soul for his own brother. He lead without questioning why that burden had fallen to him and with no fancy powers, he willingly put himself in situations where he was more often than not 'out gunned'. Hannah knew that he carried fear within him, but he often pushed it aside to help others deal with their own and he was loyal almost to a fault. He had put aside his own ambitions to support his father's, a legacy which both Winchesters could have let die with John Winchester but didn't.

Deep down, Hannah aspired to be like Dean. He was strong and courageous, quick witted and capable and quite frankly she was very glad that she had the good fortune to fall into his fox hole for the coming war.

She sat up straight in her father's chair, a new resolve coursing through her. She would find a way to save Dean, or she would die trying. There was no such thing as an acceptable loss, but the fact of the matter was that in the large scheme of things, Mike's death didn't ultimately affect what they needed to do and what they needed to achieve. Hannah vowed that she was going to make certain that his death was not in vein, by focusing all of the emotions that he provoked in her to finding a way to save Dean. If they were to loose Dean, the war would be as good as over.


Sam felt the breeze against his face, he opened his eyes and looked down the infinite stairwell that made his stomach churn in recognition. He was balanced precariously on one of the banisters that overlooked the stairwell and as soon as the realisation assailed him he overbalanced falling hard on his back on the walkway beneath him.

He groaned as he rolled to his side. The sound of laughter made him instantly alert and he sat up quickly, making his head swim for a moment.

"And last time we spoke, you were so eager to throw yourself over." said the voice as it climbed the stairs.

The words it spoke were disturbing but the more disturbing thing was the person who spoke them. A perfect replica of Mike walked up the nearest set of stairs and into Sam's view. Sam climbed slowly to his feet, watching the young man as he approached.

"Do you like my new outfit?" it said running hands over Mike's body, like a tacky game show model. "I figured that seeing that its owner wasn't using it, that he would mind if I borrowed it."

Sam stood his ground as the visage of Mike walked closer.

"Who are you?" said Sam, his face and voice turning hard.

"Sam, Sam, Sam" the entity chided rolling its eyes "We've been over this. I'm a friend."

Without coming closer, the copy of Mike swung itself on one of the banisters support posts so that it was now standing on the banister in a perfect imitation of the position Sam had found himself when he became conscious of his surroundings.

The young man looked down at Sam a strange smile coming to his face. "I can see why he did it. I never did understand the appeal before, but standing up here, feeling the wind against your face, it is kind of nice."

Sam tried not to let the entities words affect him, but he could feel the anger rising in his throat.

"The last thing that spoke to me in a dream was a demon…is that what you are?" he asked biting back the scathing words that he was itching to say.

"No the last thing other than me that spoke to you in a dream was Hannah Riordan. Are you telling me she's a demon?"

Sam let out a derisive snort and folded his arms across his chest.

"Are you trying to be deliberately evasive or are you just trying to piss me off?"

The visage of Mike looked at Sam over his shoulder, warbling slightly in his precarious position as he did so. It pulled itself up onto the balls of its feet and pivoted so that it was standing like a tightrope walker on the banister, then with maddening slowness it picked up its back foot and placed it in front of its other foot.

"You're the one who is answering a question with a question." it said in a sing song voice as it took more careful steps along the banister. Before Sam could argue it gave him a Cheshire cat smile and then recanted "Come to think of it, I sort of answered a question with a question didn't I? So I guess my answer would have to be a little of both"

Having reached the next support beam, the visage of Mike pivoted carefully so that he was facing the way that he had just come.

"Sincerely Sam." it said looking across at him as it took tentative steps along the banister "I think it was more to piss you off. I was a little cheesed that you cut out of our conversation last time. That was just down right rude."

He turned and gifted Sam with a heartfelt smile. "You're magnificent when you get your dander up. When you took out Jay…you were really fulfilling your potential there."

Sam's eyebrow arched "So you were there that night?"

Mike's face turned downcast as a frown creased his forehead "Sadly no. But I did hear all about it. Can I ask you something though, when he was lying there, begging for mercy, how did it make you feel?"

"I didn't feel anything?" said Sam before he could censor himself

The visage of Mike reached the support beam where he had started and he turned so that he was fully facing Sam now.

"And how did you feel when you shot him?" Mike's face seemed entirely too eager for Sam's liking. It spoke to something dark inside him, that Sam didn't want to acknowledge.

"None of your god damned business." Sam snapped frightened by the truth of what he had felt. Killing Jay he had felt justified, but more than that, he had felt powerful, invincible even.

Mike's face fell and he clutched at his heart melodramatically "Now Sam that hurts…really, what a thing to say to someone who is only looking to be friends with you."

It ignored Sam's sneering face and continued with its performance. "I just don't think I'll be able to go on…I'm going to end it all."

Before Sam could speak the creature masquerading as Mike pivoted a full 180 degrees and launched itself out into the stairwell plunging down into the bottomless darkness. Sam raced to the banister, his heart in his throat. He knew intellectually that this wasn't Mike, but just seeing the copy of Mike throw himself off the banister was too close to what had actually happened, and it made Sam's chest burn with pain.

He leant far out over the banister watching the body disappear into the darkness. His attention was so rapped that he wasn't even aware of movement coming up next to him until he felt hands give him a light shrug.

"Made you look." said the Mike copy as it snuck up beside him.

Sam clutched at his chest as his lungs refused to work out of shock.

The Mike copy laughed raucously, holding its ribs as if the action caused it pain. "Oh Sam." it said gasping for air "You should see your face. Priceless…just priceless."

Sam felt the rage boil up inside of him. He felt it in his chest, in the back of his hand and in the fist that he had balled up. Without a second thought he pulled his arm back and let his fist fly. It caught the Mike copy clean on the chin as he doubled over with laughter, making him stager back a few steps.

Sam didn't allow him any measure of relief; following his first punch with a swift left jab that snapped Mike's head back sharply; again the Mike copy staggered back a few steps. Sam lashed out with his legs, planting his foot in Mike's stomach and pushing him off his feet. He fell back awkwardly, sprawling against the staircase that had risen up behind him.

Sam moved over him, his mind in a white haze of rage as he pulled is fist back for the finishing blow.

"There he is." said the battered image of Mike, almost so softly that Sam didn't hear him "There's my killer."

Those words bought Sam up short, where nothing else could have. They were so reminiscent of the yellow eyed demon, that Sam found himself checking the pupil colour of the young man that was sprawled beneath him.

"Come on" the Mike copy almost pleaded "Finish me off. It will make you feel so much better."

Sam backed away for him as if he had been burned.

"No Sam…Don't go denying who you are." said Mike pushing his body up to rest on his elbow.

"This isn't me." spat Sam, but it lacked conviction even to his own ears.

"Really" said the copy of Mike, wiping at the blood that was dripping from a cut over his eye "You don't sound so convinced."

"Stay away from me" said Sam walking away with purposeful strides

"Is that anyway to treat someone who is only trying to help you." said Mike coming quickly to his feet and hurrying after Sam.

"Help me to do what?" said Sam swinging around so fast on the Mike copy that is nearly ran into him.

"Help you do what you were born to do." said Mike as if it were the obvious answer.

"You don't know anything about me?" said Sam stalking off.

"Oh I don't know about that?" said a feminine voice that was no longer Mike's. Sam turned sharply and saw his mother standing before him, her blonde hair loose about her shoulders and her night gown a pristine white. His eyes softened as he felt tears build in them.

"Mom?" he said although the words nearly stuck in his throat.

"That's right honey." Mary said smiling gently at her youngest son.

Sam stiffened as reason overload his desire that this really be Mary Winchester. "You're not my mother?"

The smile slid of Mary's face "Are you so sure?" she said her voice turning sad.

"This is just another trick." he said his voice wavering for only a second.

"No trick Sam." she said almost pleadingly "I have always walked with you, search your heart, you know that it's true."

Despite how much Sam wanted it to be true, he knew that it couldn't be. "Missouri said that you had gone."

"Gone from the house" she said reaching up to cup his cheek "But never gone from your side."

"Why haven't you let me know before now that your here." said Sam suspiciously but he leaned into the gentle hand that was on his cheek.

Mary seemed so sad as she looked at him "I wasn't able to contact you on my own, I needed help."

"That's why I helped her" said Mike coming up the stairs behind Sam. Sam looked between the visage of Mike and his mother, his confusion almost overwhelming him. He wanted so badly to believe that his mother's spirit had been with him through all of these trials, but he had grown so jaded over the past year, it was hard to accept it.

"I'm sorry but I don't believe you." said Sam stepping away from his mothers touch. The intensity of it and his desire to believe it was real was too overwhelming. He had gone through his entire life not knowing that sort of kindness and no matter how much he longed for it, he would never let it control him.

"I understand." said Mary clasping her hands together in front of her. Her eyes held tears but she smiled through them. "Will you just promise to come back and see me?"

"Sure" relented Sam "How do I get you back?"

"Just think of her before you go to sleep." interjected Mike "And I'll bring her to you here."

"How can you do that?" said Sam almost snarling

"Now Sammy" said the copy of Mike "A good magician never reveals his secrets."

"Give me one good reason why I should believe you?" said Sam inching menacingly forward.

"Have I said anything to you yet that has been a lie?" asked Mike sincerely

Sam arched his eyebrow, nothing that the entity had said had been proven to be a complete lie, but the stuff he had said about Hannah in their last conversation, seemed somewhat questionable.

"Ok" said Mike, sensing Sam's hesitation "Ok, how about this. A little heads up for you. A demon named Asbeel will be coming shortly to have a crack a getting the grimoires. He's accompanied by the chosen from another generation. They'll try and take you down to get at the grimoires."

"How soon?" said Sam grabbing a fist full of Mike's shirt.

"Honestly, I don't know. I'm not very good with the passing of time outside of this place."

For the first time in all of their conversing, Sam felt an element of sincerity in the entities words and he let the shirt fall from his fingers. He had to get back, he had to warn Dean.

"How do I get out of here?" he said, his words crashing out of his mouth.

Mike's eyes looked over the banister to the stairwell, then back a Sam a smile touching his lips.

"Well you can either go over that way" he said indicating the stairwell with his head "Or you can go out that door and go all the way to the room at the end."

"What doo…." started Sam before he realised that there was a door immediately behind him.

He grabbed onto the handle and threw the door open and charged on long legged strides down the hall. He passed door after door on either side of him, but he kept running. The further he ran, the longer the hall seemed to grow, but he charged on ignoring the seeming pointlessness of this exercise.

When he was out of breath, he slowed slightly holding his side to stop the spread of the stitch that was building there. He held onto the wall for supports and took massive gulps of air into his lungs. As his breathing steadied, he caught sight of the end of the hall and he again picked up his pace running for the door. This time, rather than getting further away, he seemed to be making ground on it, until he was on it faster than he anticipated.

He grabbed onto the door knob and opened the door as he tried to come skidding to a halt. The door swung open, but there was no room beyond it. No room, no floor nothing except the sky and the ocean and a very long drop.

Sam tried desperately to stop himself from barrelling out into the nothingness, but he had far too much momentum behind him and he flung out into the air, ripping the handle from the door as he desperately tried to hang on to it to save himself. He was falling and he was sure that at any moment that he would ricochet of the rocks.

The ocean raced up to meet him and he closed his eyes in anticipation of the impact. But it never came. Sam opened his eyes slowly to see the wide blue sky, with seagulls riding the thermals from the headlands. He tentatively felt around him and realised he was sitting in the deck chair. He let out the breath that had lodged in his chest and he hurried out of the chair pulling his phone from his pocket.

Dialling Dean's number on instinct he felt comforted when he heard his brother's voice on the other end.

"Dean" he said firmly "You need to come back now. We got trouble."

Dean didn't argue, nor did he question Sam. He just acknowledged that he understood and hung up the phone.

Sam hurried inside to find the Doc. He had no idea where she had gone or even if she was in the house, so he stood at the base of the stairs and called her name. When he heard her answer from the floor below he hurried down the stairs nearly crashing into her as she was on her way up.

"Sam? What's up? What's the matter?" she said in a rapid rush of words.

"A demon called Asbeel is on his way here?"

"Asbeel?" questioned Hannah, realising that every conversation that had ever been about that particular demon had occurred while Sam was unconscious. "Where did you get that name?"

"I dreamed it?" said Sam, close enough to the truth to make it not feel like lying and evasive enough to keep his source hidden.

"You dreamed that Asbeel came here?" asked Hannah her face crumpling awkwardly with her swollen black eye.

"Yes." said Sam feeling his patience start to flee him.

"When?" asked Hannah searching Sam's face.

"Just then." said Sam shortly, his temper flaring at all her pointless questions.

"No" said Hannah "When is he coming?"

"That's just it" said Sam "I don't know? So if we are going to destroy these grimoires then we have to do it now before he gets here. We can't risk him getting them."

Hannah looked troubled "I think we should call Dean."

"I already have and he is on his way. Now would you quit stalling and take me to see those damn grimoires already."

Hannah looked at Sam and then looked pointedly at where he held her rather painfully on the arm. He followed her gaze and let go of her as he realised exactly what he was doing. He took two steps back from her as of she had burned him and he ran an agitated hind through his hair.

"I'm sorry." he said quietly

Hannah reached out with all of her senses, both natural and preternatural. She sensed impatience from Sam and a healthy dose of fear, but no hostility towards her.

"Alright" she said quietly "I'll take you to see them, but I would prefer if we made no decisions until Dean arrives. Any decision we make may affect him the most."

"Fair enough" conceded Sam as he followed her to the door that led off from the lower level.

From a cunning nook in the door frame, Hannah opened a tiny hidden door and pulled a key out from it. Once she replaced the lid, the panel disappeared instantly into the grain of the wood. She unlocked the door and opened it, revealing a long narrow stairway that seemed to lead directly into the rock face.

Hannah turned on the light and started down the stairs. Sam followed her ducking his head at the closed in ceiling. If the truth be known, he could have walked upright, but the sensation of being enclosed was so great, that he couldn't prevent himself from stooping out of instinct.

At the bottom there was a large metal door. Sam would have bet money on the fact that it was iron, but as Hannah punched in a sequence of number in the keypad on the wall, the door moved into the wall revealing a room the same size as Hannah's library, carved directly into the rock face.

Hannah hit the light switch and florescent lights flickered on revealing dozens of display cases. Sam inhaled his breath sharply as he walked slowly into the room. The display cases held everything from small pieces of furniture; weapons, jewels and of course books.

"What is all this stuff?" said Sam walking forward and laying his hands gently on the first display case.

"All sorts of things" said Hannah quietly although her voice echoed around the stone room. "Some of it is my family's heirlooms, that I couldn't quite bring myself to part with, others are pieces that I have rescued or acquired along the way."

"It must be worth a fortune." said Sam walking slowly to the next case.

"I think it is worth more in sentiment than it is in dollars." Hannah's voice was wistful as she trailed her fingers along the case that Sam had just been studying.

Sam caught sight of a display case on the wall that held and ornate book. He walked over to it, placing his hands gently on the glass. On one page, there was the most beautiful illuminated illustration that he had ever seen, and on the other page, was bold hand lettered calligraphy spelling out some passage in Latin.

"Is this a grimoire?" he said resisting the urge to press his nose up to the glass.

"No" she said with a slight laugh "Far from it. It's a bible, one of the first to come out of Elstow Abbey."

"It's beautiful" said Sam itching to just touch the pages so that he could turn them and find out what wonders where on the other side.

"Did you have this room created specially?" he asked moving on to see what treasures could be found in the next lot of cases.

Hannah shook her head. "The people who built this house, had it made. They were very wealthy, I mean crazy Donald Trump kind of wealthy and they had a large collection of art. The only thing I did was changed the door from lead to iron, and had the vault put in."

"The vault?" questioned Sam.

Hannah pointed to a large panel in the wall that faced the entry way. It had a small electronic pad next to it. Sam walked closer to it and he realised that the whole panel was a giant circular door, a door that had been intricately engraved with glyphs and symbols. As he walked close to the door, he could feel the arcane energy crackle around it.

Sam hesitated as he looked at the door.

"You can feel that can't you" said Hannah, more as a statement than a question. "It's just like the ward."

"Except about 50 times stronger." said Sam as he starred at the massive door.

Hannah nodded pleased that he was getting some finesse with his newly acquired gifts. "Well it's the last line of defence. The door has an iron outer with a titanium alloy core. Dynamite couldn't get this sucker off"

"What is that writing?" he asked, standing close to inspect the door but not daring to touch it.

"Anything and everything I could find that I thought might make any demon think twice before opening that door." she said.

Hannah felt a familiar sensation and she looked up the stairs.

"Dean's back." she said absently

"How do you know?" asked Sam studying her, not only with his eyes, but with all of his 'senses'.

"He just crossed the ward." she explained "His energy feels a particular way and one of the qualities of the ward is to amplify that energy so I can tell who's coming. Can you feel him?"

Dean reached out with his senses. In truth he wasn't sure what he could feel, but he did feel something that was familiar to him. It was kind of like a scent that reminded you of someone in particular. It wasn't overpowering, it was more of a hint.

"That's Dean?" said Sam smiling slightly as he closed his eyes and focused in on the energy.

"Yes" said Hannah quietly "You'll be able to feel his energy when he's close to you, particularly when he is in sight and usually you'll feel him on objects that he owns or comes in contact with. It's like an echo of that person stays."

"Like their smell" said Sam, trying to acquaint it back to an analogy that he understood.

Now that Hannah had pointed it out, Sam was astounded at how sensitively he could feel everyone. Dean had an energy that he equated with leather, like the old leather of a baseball glove. Hannah on the other hand had a very strange energy that Sam could only equate with spices like cinnamon and clove. It was fine in small doses, but too much was overwhelming.

He was woken out of his reverie by Dean's call. Hannah had gone to the bottom of the stairs and sung out to him where they were and Sam could hear Dean's booted feet on the stairs as he came down.

"Holy Manhattan Museum Batman?" said Dean as he took in the sights of Hannah's little treasure trove "What the hell is this place?"

"This is the vault." said Hannah walking back over to the door where Sam stood "I was just about to show Sam the grimoires. Apparently Sam had a dream that Asbeel was coming to pay us a call."

"When?" said Dean, moving fast to join them.

Sam dropped his head slightly "I'm not sure." he said.

Dean patted Sam comfortingly on the shoulder and watched as Hannah stood before the electronic key pad.

"Alright Doc. Show us exactly what demon boy is after." said Dean.

Hannah punched in a set of numbers into the key pad and in.

"Code Accepted" said an electronic voice that nearly made to two brothers jump out of their skin.

"Voice Print Recognition Required." said the voice.

Hannah leaned in close to the key pad and said "Christo"

"Voice Print Confirmed Dr Riordan. Have a nice day." said the electronic voice.

Hannah looked back to where both Sam and Dean were looking at her with wide eyed intrigued.

Dean smiled slightly "Nice Doc, Using the name of God at the password."

"Some Demons are unaffected hearing it, but no demon can say it." said Hannah with a simple shrug "At least none that I've read about."

The vault door hissed like a seal that was being Brocken and the large circular door started to swing out toward where the brothers were standing.

Dean and Sam moved over next to Hannah as the Door continued to move and Sam swore under his breath as he realised the door was a solid 2 foot thick plate that required hydraulic pistons just to operate it.

As soon as the gap was wide enough, Hannah stood back and indicated that the brothers should go in. Dean stepped in his jaw becoming slack and Sam followed soon in behind him.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again." said Dean "Doc you have all the best toys."

Hannah leaned against the massive metal door jam and watched as the brothers looked at the rows upon rows of stainless steel draws. The felt the darkness in her mind, that permanent presence, prick up in excitement urging her to step forward, but she didn't, she wedged her shoulder in the lip of the door jam and every time she had the urge to walk in there, she would press her shoulder into the door jam until it hurt.

Sam ran his hands over the stainless steel draws. At his touch some of the draws hissed and began to open revealing their contents. Sam looked alarmed back at where Hannah stood by the door.

"Its alright." she said "The draws are touch activated. Each draw is vacuum sealed to prevent any moisture from getting in there to damage the books."

"Are you coming in?" said Dean coming up next to Sam to look down at the contents of the draw.

"Not today." said Hannah "I'm not really up for it."

Dean gave her a quizzical look, but said nothing. If he actually had any idea just how tenuous her hold on the darkness that dwelled within her was, there is no way he would let her anywhere near the room let alone in the vault.

Sam and Dean looked down into the steel draw where a leather bound book sat. Sam ran his fingers over the symbols on the front and immediately felt a jolt of energy a soon as he touched the surface of the book. He nearly snatched his had back, but resisted the impulse.

Sam opened the cover, gingerly leafing through the pages that had diagrams relating to plants and animals, the language was one he didn't recognise, but the workmanship was beautiful. It reminded him of Leonardo's anatomical studies. It had that same quality to it, like this was more of a study manual or an instructional document than the bible that he had seen out in the display case.

Sam closed his eyes feeling the books pull on his energy, it was not draining him, more calling to him offering him, power and wisdom beyond anything that he could fathom. He ran his hand over the pages, savouring the tactile quality of the rough hewn paper and the energy that travelled through it. Hannah was right, there was nothing intrinsically evil about these books, but he understood how they could be used for evil things. Just being in contact with it, Sam could feel the well of energy boiling up inside him.

Dean stepped back, having lost interest in the book that Sam was studying. He couldn't feel the nuances of energy that crackled through it, so he had no way of appreciated it in the same way that Sam could. He just walked around the vault counting the draws.

"Do each of these draws have a grimoire in them?"

Hannah shook her head "No, not all of them are full. There are only 42 in there."

"I take it there are more in the world though?" Dean said opening a draw on the opposite side and inspecting the book that was in there.

"Yes, these are only the ones that I could access. There are others in the Vatican library, in the great libraries in Venice and Barcelona. Even the British Museum has one or two in their collection."

"You couldn't get at those?" he asked pushing the draw in an watching as it automatically expelled all the are from within with a loud hiss.

"My money and influence can only get me so far." said Hannah "And most professionals wont touch the security in places like the Vatican or the British Museum."

"Professionals?" asked Dean going back over to see what Sam was doing.

"I didn't exactly obtain all of these in the most legal of ways Dean. Those of which I didn't acquire myself I got assistance from professional thieves."

Dean leaned back looking at her "Doc…major larceny! I'm impressed. I thought Credit Card fraud was bad, but this takes the cake…and here I thought you were all prim and proper. Go on, shatter my delusions why don't you."

Dean smiled a crocked smile at her, trying to break some of the tension that was thick in the air. Humour was Dean's tried and true defence and he was trying it now for all it was worth. He could tell that being down here was really hard on the Doc, and he knew that the prospect of destroying these books was even harder.

"Alright" he said "How do we go about it?"

"Go about what?" said Sam absently; still leafing through the grimoire he had started with.

"Destroying them." said Dean looking at Sam under his raised eyebrows "That is what you wanted right?"

Sam closed his eyes and he closed the book with infinite care. He reached out with his senses and he could feel every book where it sat in every draw. The potential in here overwhelmed him and bought him a sense of fear all at once, but he now understood Hannah's position. He felt empowered around these books and he could no more destroy them, than he could kill his own brother.

"No" he said quietly "Hannah's right. If there is a way to get you out of your deal, we'll find it here."

"Sam" said Dean sternly turning his brother around so he could look him in the eye "Are you sure?"

Sam looked first at Hannah and then to his brother. "We have to make sure no one gets their hands on these, but I can't destroy them. Not when they might save you Dean."

Dean nodded in understanding. Ever since Hannah had suggested that there might be a solution in here, he had kept a firm grip on his hope not wanting to build himself up only to be disappointed, but hearing Sam say it too, bought him a sense of faith that there may still be a way to get out of his bargain.

"Ok" said Dean "Let's turn our attention to Asbeel" With that he gave Sam a gentle shove towards the door and followed him out so they could reseal the vault.