so i know this is a short chapter but i really like the thought of ending it here...thanks for reading and for the aweome reviews!! bambers;)

Chapter Three

“If you had just kept your damn mouth shut, Dean, I could've broken ya out of jail, an we could've been on our way to Connecticut right now.”

“Well, if you had told me that was your plan instead of punching me in the freakin' face, I might not have said that you started that fire,” Dean snapped as he stalked back and forth in the small cell.

“Well, punching you in the face had nothing to do with the plan.” Rowan leaned against the black iron bars, and crossed his arms. “I've just wanted to do that since the moment I met you. But I'm pretty sure that's probably most people's first reaction when meeting you, an' not just a vamp thing.”

Dean stopped pacing and slumped down onto the thin pallet that served as a bed. “Why do you hate me so damn much, Rowan? What did I do that was so freakin' wrong that you'd jus' let me take Thomas' place to hang?”

“How could I hate you, I don't even know you.” Rowan trudged the short expanse, took a seat beside Dean, and leaned back to rest against the brick wall. “But you seem to know so damn much about me, an' that really just bugs the hell out of me.”

“I told you we're friends.”

“I don't want to be friends with you, Dean.”

“Why the hell not?”

Rowan heaved a weary groan as he raked his fingers through is unruly hair. “Cause if I accept the fact that we're friends then I have to also accept the knowledge that no matter what I do, I'm gonna live forever. An' I'd rather just go on not liking you than to consider that possibility.”

“Well, that's just stupid.”

“Wow, thanks for that rousing bit of support,” Rowan rolled his eyes, “an' you wonder why I wouldn't wanna be your friend.”

“Fine you don't wanna be friends, whatever.” Dean pushed himself to his feet and set to pacing once more. “How the hell are we gonna get out of here before they decide to hang us?”

“I'm working on a plan,” Rowan said as he folded his legs and rested his forearms on his knees.

“Is it gonna be as good as your first plan cause that one pretty much sucked out loud.”

“Well, I had considered using your head as a battering ram to bust down the door, but then I figured I'd have to end up carrying you outta here, an' the plan lost some of its appeal.” A mirthful laugh slipped past Rowan's lips as he pushed himself to his feet, and held out a hand to Dean. “Give me your knife.”

Dean's brow raised in confusion. The deputies had searched them both for weapons before throwing them in the cell, but had failed to find the knife Dean had concealed in the inner pocket of his leather jacket. “How'd you know I had a knife?”

“If I know anything at all about the Winchesters' it's that they always have some sort of weapon stashed away where no one would think to look for it, so hand it over.”

“What are you gonna do with it?” Dean asked as he pulled the knife out of his pocket and handed it to Rowan.

“I was thinking that maybe I would carve 'Rowan and Dean were here' into the bricks,” he said and flashed a cocky grin when Dean rolled his eyes. “Naww . . . I'm just kidding, unless you really wanna.”

“Can you just try an' be serious for like ten seconds,” Dean huffed, nearing the end of his patience. “I know you have a whole world full of time on your hands, but I've gotta get out of here an' find that damn Ark.”

The laughter died on Rowan's lips at the not so subtle reminder that he would live forever. “That was a cheap shot, Dean.”

It was on the tip of Dean's tongue to say he was sorry as he hadn't meant to hurt the vampire's feelings, but just by the angry expression on Rowan's face, he knew he wouldn't accept his apology. “Look, I don't wanna argue with you. I just wanna get out of here, find the Ark, an' go home.”

“Alright,” Rowan said with a curt nod, and taking a hold of both sides of his shirt he ripped it apart. With a low growl, he dragged the blade across his chest. Blood seeped down his chest to splatter on the ground as he continued to cut deeper and deeper into his flesh.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” Dean shouted, grabbing hold of the vampire's wrist, and yanked the knife out of his hand.

“Well, you wanted out, so I'm gettin' us out of here.” Dropping down to sprawl on the floor, Rowan let out a loud cry of pain. He then nudged his head toward the cell door, and ordered, “When the deputies come an' open that damn door to drag your ass out of here, I'll jump them from behind.”

“God, you really are buckets of crazy, aren't you?”

“Maybe, but you gotta admit it's a cool plan.” A brief smile lit across Rowan's features, but the moment Dean heard footsteps rushing toward them, the vampire lowered his head and closed his eyes.

“If this doesn't work, Rowan, I'm so gonna kick your ass,” Dean hissed before he turned to face three deputies.

The three men looked from him to Rowan's bloody, prone body on the floor and then back to the knife Dean held loosely in his grip. In one fluid movement, they all drew their guns and trained them on Dean, and as he raised his hands and dropped the blade he could've sworn he hear Rowan snickering from behind him.

“Boy, where'd ya get that knife?” The deputy with graying sandy hair and thick swirling mustache stepped forward to unlock the cell door. The metal key rattled in the lock, and then clicked loudly. He pulled the door open, and once again leveled his weapon Dean's chest. “You hear me talkin' to ya, boy?” he asked when Dean smirked and didn't immediately respond. “Where'd you get it?”

“Your Mother.” His cocky grin abruptly died away, and was replaced with a grimace and grunt of pain when the two other deputies roughly grabbed his arms and the sandy-haired man slammed the butt end of the shotgun into his stomach. “M-Maybe it was your s-sister,” he uttered between gasping breaths.

“Earl, I say we jus' string him up,” the dark-haired deputy to Dean's right said as he tightened his grip on his arm.

“Or we could shoot him an' say he was escaping.” The shorter deputy pushed Dean out of the cell and into the brick wall.

“I vote we let me go, an' call this all a huge mistake.”

“There's no mistakin' that yer a cold-blooded murderer.” Earl bobbed his head toward Rowan's prone form and gestured to the pool of blood spreading outward from his body.

“It wasn't murder,” Dean adamantly declared with a shake of his head. “Anyone who's spent more than ten minutes with Rowan would tell ya it was totally justifiable homicide.”

“I'm with Roy, I say we string him up.” After the shorter deputy cuffed Dean's hand's behind his back, Earl grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and shoved him toward the entrance of the building.

As he was pushed through the front door of the jail, Dean glanced back over his shoulder, expecting to see Rowan come charging out of the cell to attack the deputies, but the vampire was no where to be found. He slowed in his steps, dragging his feet as the deputies led him around to the back of the jail, and headed toward an old maple tree. Dean stole another peek over his shoulder, and inwardly groaned when he noticed that Rowan still hadn't followed. Damn it, Rowan, get your ass out here.

“You can't be serious with this whole hang 'em high crap.”

“Do we look as if we're not serious?” Roy tied a knot in the rope he had brought with him, slipped the noose around Dean's neck and tightened it. Dean gagged and squirmed against his restraints, panic filling him as Roy threw the rope over an upper limb of the tree, and the other two men took hold of the end of coarse binding and pulled it taut.

Vision swimming, Dean gasped for breath as he was hauled off the snowy ground. Fearfully, he toed at the ground with the tips of his boots as he rose higher and higher into the air. Darkness edged in around him as he struggled to draw in air. Dangling around, he swung to face his attackers, and slammed a foot into Ray's chest. Ray's grip slipped on the rope as he was knocked backward, and Dean fell into the snow with a thud.

The noose briefly loosened around Dean's neck, and he drew in a rasping breath. Coughing hard, he barely managed to suck in a second breath, and the rope pulled tight around his throat again. Stark pain blossomed behind his eyes, temples throbbing as he struggled to draw in air. Once again he felt darkness overtaking him, and desperately fought against it. Eyelids growing heavy, they slowly flitted open and closed as he writhed against the rope.

Damn it, Rowan . . . help me . . . .