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Rated: 13+ · Chapter · Supernatural · #1749428
Hannah takes over. Reverse vampirism. It's shockingly good.
Chapter Two

One Week Before That: The Bar

Hannah sat down at the table closest to the door where there was light streaming in. She felt more comfortable there, close to the sun she loved so much, feeling it's beautiful warmth as it seeped through the dim light of the bar. It was half past noon, so she was an hour early for her lunch date with Nasta, but she didn't much mind. It just meant she could get a head start on drinking. A lunch date though it might be, but eating was never involved - ever - except in the case of gummi bears, and drinking was almost a necessity. Actually, it was most definitely a necessity. Hannah didn't think she could function without alcohol in her system.

She was on her fourth round and trying to explain to the pretty, yet completely lazy, waitress about her ideal marriage when something very strange happened...

"So then," she slurred slightly, "After a quick wedding in Vegas, we're off for an even quicker, wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am honeymoon in the back of his tan hippie van, sparing not even a moment to admire the painted, florescent peace symbols on it's exterior, before leaving on our long, separate flights home where we would live out our days hardly remembering that we're married until one day, years later, we meet by chance once again - probably in a bar - where we would get to talking about how one crazy night way back when, we'd each gotten married to a mysterious, very attractive stranger in a drunken, drug-enhanced haze. Then we'd stare at each other for long moments as the world seemed to dissolve around us and wonder to ourselves, Are you my spouse?

Hannah sighed happily before continuing, as if recalling a fond memory, rather than fantasising about a rather bizarre relationship. "That night, after hours of wild, passionate, balls-to-the-walls monkey sex, we'd finally manage to voice the myriad of question rolling around in our heads. Questions that would otherwise have stayed unvoiced had the gallons of alcohol coursing through our veins not loosened our tongues. Seemingly unimportant questions, such as "Are you my spouse?", "What did you mean when you wrote 'WWAHWTMTOOH'  on the back of the chapel's business card next to a detailed drawing of what looks like one of those cheap little statues of a saint?" "Do you still have my favourite, fire engine red water bra? I think I accidentally left it in your van after you flung it over your shoulder into the abyss." and "What is your name?"

The waitress interrupted her then, placing her empty tray on the table and sitting down opposite her at the table. "What does WWAHTMTOOH stand for?" she asked, seeming way to interesting in a drunk's story than she probably should have been.

Giving a short snort and an awkward shrug of the shoulders, Hannah replied. "Beats the hell out of me, I didn't write it."

"I bet it'd mean something romantic," the waitress sighed.

"I bet you're gonna lose your job if you keep sitting there yapping all day," the bartended called from his position across the room behind the bar.

The waitress slowly travelled her gaze around the room, taking in the empty chairs, the spotless surfaces and the utter lack of any kind of activity. Not even a roach rallying for a riot on some discarded beer nuts. "Take a look around, Barn," she finally said. "The lunch crowd is gone and the after work crowd isn't due for another  couple of hours. We're dead until then. If something happens or someone comes in, I'll get right on it. Until then, I'm on my break." She turned back to Hannah. "Go on, honey. What happens then?"

Hannah looked confused. "What were we talking about?"

"Your ideal marriage," the waitress prompted politely. "You were just saying that after the," her cheeks reddened as she whispered, "love making, you finally asked the questions on your minds. What then?"

She thought for a moment, staring into the bottom of her empty glass, then a thought occurred to her. "I need another drink," she said and as the waitress hurried to get it, she tried to regroup her scattered fantasy. When the waitress returned Hannah sculled half the drink that was placed in front of her and continued her story.

"The next morning, with my favourite, fire engine red water bra hanging out of the pocket of my terrycloth robe, I bid him farewell from the sidewalk in front of my house. And as drives off, disappearing into the distance, I pull the bra out of my pocket, look at it and think, 'Gee I was skinny back then. I've really let myself go since getting married. They all warned me it would happen, I just never believed it was true.'" Another reminiscent sigh left Hannah's lips. "Yep," she stated, her voice whisper soft. "That's my ideal marriage. How about you?"

The waitress had just opened her pretty, pouty lips to reply when a mysterious, very attractive male stranger stepped out of the shadows behind Hannah. Well, maybe he wasn't overly attractive at first sight, especially given his clothing choices, but for Hannah, that fact seemed to increase the intrigue. Why he would choose to dress as if he were five - complete with an "If found please return to..." badge pinned firmly to the front of his Captain Planet t-shirt, and untied sneakers - and hang around in the darkest corner of the small, obscure bar in the middle of the day, listening to Hannah's intoxicated fantasising certainly made him mysterious.

His clear blue eyes sparkled, illuminating his boyish good looks as a smile broke forth on his face. As Hannah watched, he made his way to bar and ordered a drink, never once taking his mischievous stare from her. Barn, the burly bartender, set his drink on the bar next to him and the guy said something to him that sounded, to Hannah's less-than-sober ears, distinctly like "Send her to Afghanistan, Barn." More than a little freaked out by this statement, Hannah began to gather her stuff together in order to make a hasty exit, should Barn the Burly actually follow this man-o-mystery's instructions. She was quite surprised, therefore, when the waitress set another schooner of beer in front of her.

"Compliments of the only other living soul in the room that doesn't work here," she said with a wink.
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