Disclaimer: I don't own Harry potter or Supernatural
A/N: This is a companion piece to my story Blood Will Out, set after FUBAR; read that one first.
John watched as Hermione laughed; her little head was thrown back and she was completely innocent in her joy. Dean was making ridiculous faces at her and Sammy was laughing and tickling his little sister. It brought a sense of peace to his old tired heart that his three kids could find joy in such a fucked up world.
He had had Hermione for six months now, ever since her mother had dropped her into his arms and left him clueless and shit scared, but he had made it. Dean had stepped up to the plate and shown his old man exactly what he was doing wrong every step of the way and he was pleased that together with Sammy helping out, they had managed to find a pace that was manageable for everyone involved. A situation that involved a lot less screaming than what had been experienced those first few weeks.
He had had to cut back on the hunts, passing as many as possible to Bobby and Jim who subsequently passed any they couldn't handle to other hunters they knew. There had been a few where there was no one nearby to do them and he had had to leave Dean in charge of both Sam and Hermione, but his son had handled himself like a true soldier. It was enough to make a father proud.
He had been researching, getting ready to go on another hunt, when the laughing fest had cut his concentration. He hadn't the heart to tell them to stop; he kept sneaking peeks because he didn't want them to stop playing if he gave them his full attention.
There was a knock at the door and he moved to answer it, picking up the loaded shotgun as he went. He hid the shotgun behind the door and peeked through the peephole. His blood ran cold when he saw who was standing in front of it. He gave a frantic look to his children who had stopped laughing and looked at him with trepidation. Dean had placed Hermione in Sammy's lap who was holding her tight, and his eldest held his Firestar that he had received for his birthday in a tight grip pointed at the door - safety off - ready to protect his siblings.
John shook his head at him and Dean lowered the gun, confused.
"Put it away Dean." Dean put the safety back on the gun and slid it under a pillow, but he left his hand close to it. John nodded at him and he turned back to the door. He took a fortifying breath.
"Dad." John turned back to his son who was nodding at his own hand. He looked down at the shotgun still held there. He nodded jerkily and quickly walked to the bed where his children sat huddled. He knelt before them and stashed the weapon under the bed, far enough back that it wouldn't be seen but close enough that even those with little reach would be quick about retrieving it.
He looked at them all, Dean practically vibrating with tension, his hand flexing towards the pillow, Sam holding Hermione tightly as if he could protect her from anything, even though he looked like frightened. Hermione was squirming against her big brother, aware of the tension; she reached for him and John swallowed thickly.
A second sharp knock came from the door, louder this time, more insistent. He quickly gave his little girl a kiss on her forehead, scratching her with his whiskers. He put one hand on each of his boys' heads and ruffled their hair.
"Dad?" Sammy's voice was high and scared; John gave him a cocky grin that eased a little of the tension in the room.
"Don't worry kiddo, just a couple of cops. Dean, whatever happens, you don't go for the gun. If they take me away, you call Jim, he's closest, then you call Bobby; tell them everything and stay in the room, it's booked out for the next couple of days and there's money in my bag. If they take you too, go with them and don't give anybody any lip. Sam, if Dean gets taken away, you stick with your sister, and you call Jim." He said it quickly even as another loud knock came at the door. It made the children jump and look at the door in fear.
John gave a decisive nod, took an extra few seconds to lock their little faces into his memory, and turned back to the door.
He opened the door slowly, no sudden movement when it came to cops. There were two standing in front of the door, blocking it. One moved slightly and he saw another two standing out in the car park. Between them was a woman he hadn't seen through the peephole. The sight of the cops had made his blood run cold; the sight of her, standing between the two police officers with her bushy brown hair framing her face so much like her daughter, his daughter, threatened to make it freeze over.
"Sir we've come to take a Miss Hermione Granger to her mother." The police officer in front of him was professional, a hidden hint behind his voice suggested that he would not take any nonsense. John didn't even look at him; he only had eyes for the woman.
They had spoken over the phone on several occasions. John had yelled, she had screamed, begged, cried; eventually he had gotten her excuses as to why she had left her little girl with a man she didn't know: depression after her parents had died and she hadn't been able to care for her little girl. John would have felt sympathy had he not lost his wife and been left with two little boys and managed just fine, thank you very much.
It had been two months since she had first asked for her little girl back, two months of increasingly frantic phone calls.
"No you won't, that's my little girl and her mother isn't fit to take care of her." The cop to his left gave a disgusted snort, glaring around at the surroundings, at the dirty motel, the hookers who were looking out from two doors down.
"Sir, I think if we all just go down to the station we can sort this out there."
"She gave her to me, she doesn't have any right."
"Sir, if you'll just come down to the station." John nodded, because he didn't have a choice, wouldn't fight it, not with child services a constant looming threat; he would have to do this through the legal channels. He turned and went back into the room. He left the door open and the officer that had snorted followed him, causing him to turn and tell him to wait. The officer pushed past him and made as if to go to the bed where his children sat.
John grabbed the man's arm and held him back. The cop turned on him and pushed him backwards. John held on and planted his feet. The cop whipped his baton out and poked John in the chest. John knocked it away and got himself up close, into the man's face. There was anger in the cop's eyes, enough that John wasn't letting him anywhere near his kids. Sam started to yell and John's attention was divided for a split second. The cop brought his baton up, gave him a solid hit to the chest, just under the armpit. John heard a crack and knew at least one of his ribs was broken; he grunted but didn't let go of the threat.
Dean had started yelling himself and John received two more quick hits to his sides before he managed to yank the baton from the man's hands. He threw it into the corner. The second cop entered the fray and grabbed John from behind. John let out a bellow and it seemed to break something in the air. Hermione screamed an ear piercing screech from her powerful little lungs. John kicked his leg out and landed a blow on the cop's knee, dropping him to the ground. The cop holding him from behind had his own baton out and cracked him across the skull; it brought black spots to his eye but he remained standing, struggling.
Dean let out his own war cry and leapt onto the cop's back. He got him into a chokehold, skinny arms trying to cut off the blood flow just like John had taught him. The move was made for marines and Dean had to squeeze with a lot more effort for it to be effective, but he was giving it his best.
The cop bucked and flung Dean off of him. Dean hit the ground and rolled with it. He got back onto his feet quickly and rushed back at the cop who was moving onto his little brother and sister. Sam was kicking out at him, holding onto a screaming Hermione for all he was worth. Dean kicked out at the man, straight into the knee his dad had already hit. The cop gave a scream of pain and dropped to the ground. His hand came out, almost as a reaction and caught Dean across the face with a backhanded blow. It sent Dean to the ground and he lay there, dizzy and in pain, trying to recover as quickly as he could.
"The little bastard bit me." The cop had grabbed at Sam and had gotten his hand bit; he took a more direct approach and grabbed the nine-year-old by the scruff of the neck. He held Hermione under one arm tightly, arms pinned to her side and legs left free to kick behind her.
Dean rose but the man was out the door, limping away quickly with both of his siblings in his grip. Dean ducked around his father and the other cop, fighting and struggling for the door.
"Daddy." Hermione screamed it as loud as her little lungs allowed her and Dean saw a woman scream back, trying to rush towards the cop who held her and Sammy, but was being held back by an officer.
Dean bolted out the door and jumped onto the cop's back and started beating the man about the head. His momentum made the man stumble and he hit the ground, falling fully onto his damaged knee. He dropped Sammy who went around and grabbed at Hermione. He managed to pull her free, biting down on any obstacle. Sam got her free and they both stumbled away. Dean let go of the cop and joined them.
Sam held a shaky Hermione in his arms, both hidden behind Dean who stood facing the cops in the fighting stance that their dad had taught them.
"Dad!" Dean called back into the room without taking his eyes off the threat in front of him.
Further struggles could be heard from the room and Hermione screamed out to her Daddy again. The woman pushed forward under the cop's arms and Dean backed all three of them up away from her.
"Back up lady, don't come any closer." Dean growled the words; he would hurt anybody who came any closer.
"I'm Hermione's mother." That made Dean back up further, he wanted desperately to just grab Hermione, grab dad, run, in the Impala and not stop driving for days until they were far enough away.
"Back up."
"She's hurt. You have to let me help her." Hermione had not stopped screaming.
"She's not hurt; she's scared because of the brutes you sent in after her." He almost spat at her, because he was not letting his sister get carted off, knew his dad wouldn't let it happen.
"Dad!" John came stumbling out of the room, blood running from his head where he had been hit. The second cop that had caught him up came just behind him. He grabbed at John's shirt but John batted his hands away and he rushed to his kids.
John grabbed Sam and Hermione into his arms and pulled Dean back against him. The cops stopped moving forward, everybody just stopped. Hermione stopped screaming and buried her head into his shoulder, Sammy clung to him, and Dean leaned back into him, fighting stance still in place.
"Don't you fucking touch my children!" John was beyond furious.
"Sir, you'll have to come down to the station, or we will arrest you and put your children into juvenile detention until we can get this matter sorted." One of the officers that had stayed with Hermione's mother spoke calmly and with authority.
John nodded sharply, because there really was no other choice; he couldn't afford to be hunted down for kidnapping.
He moved forward and the woman who had started it all moved forward with her hands outstretched and he didn't hesitate in spitting directly into her face. He had his hands full and Dean was walking practically on top of his shoes and it was all he had left.
She stopped in absolute shock and gave a little cry as she wiped it off. He kept his distance but moved steadily towards the police cars. Going in his own wasn't an option any longer, not with the fight, but fuck him if he was letting them separate them.
He stared hard at the cop who had spoken and he got a nod in return. The cop opened the back of one of the cars and John quickly pushed all three kids in before getting in himself and closing the door behind him. He sat in the back of a police car covered in his children, two crying and one looking like he was trying his best not to, to show that he could be brave just like his daddy.
He wanted to tell them that everything was going to be okay, that he wouldn't let anyone separate them. But John feared, feared so bad that it was making his hands tremble and his throat close up on itself. Fear that this would be one of the fights he wasn't going to win, just like with Mary. He held his baby girl tight to his chest and feared that losing her would break him in ways that only Mary's death had done.
**DM**
Dean took the bottle gently from his father's lax fingers. He walked it over to the sink and tipped what little remained in the bottle down the sink. His father didn't drink often, but when he did, it was always into unconsciousness.
Dean had already put Sammy to bed; he had protested at being left alone but had stayed when Dean had promised to return to him. Dean took his father's boots off and dragged both feet onto the couch, laying him down flat in a more comfortable position.
Dean sniffled and angrily rubbed at his eyes, wincing slightly as he touched the bruise that had formed over his left eye. He took a sheet that he had taken from the other bed and draped it over his father. Dean didn't blame him for escaping the only way he could, not after what had happened that day.
They had been taken down to the police station; the police force of the small town they were in consisted solely of the four officers. They were led into a small interview room and were left alone in there.
The woman, Hermione's mother, had been brought in not long after; a cop had stayed with them but she and his dad had talked. She had begged him and Dad had been hard and unforgiving. Hermione had spent the time crying and peeking out at her mother from her father's shoulder.
Then they had started the negotiations; she hadn't given them a choice, Dean knew that, though it hadn't stopped him from looking at his father in shock and betrayal when they had come to the arrangement. Sammy had cried out and begged his father to stop, to not let it be. He had put his puppy dog look to good use and thrown it like a weapon at the woman. She hadn't caved.
Six months both ways; that was the agreement. Hermione would spend six months with her mother back in England and six months with them. She had documents that he only had to sign to make it legal, would hold him to it else she would get every cop she could to hunt him down. He had already had his six months, and he could either agree or not, but he wasn't leaving the police station with Hermione. Agree and wait six months to see her again, or don't and never see his daughter again. Dean had watched a little bit of his father crack and break; he had swallowed thickly and signed the papers with the blankest look that he had ever seen.
His father had tried to convince her that Hermione would need to go back with him, to get her stuff, but she hadn't agreed. She would just buy her new things. The woman didn't trust him; fair enough considering how far they would have run if they had had the choice.
His father had held a confused Hermione for the longest time, had given her to Dean to hold and say good-bye to and then to Sammy. He had then picked her up again and whispered words just for her into her ear and then that woman had taken her. His father's hands had fallen limply as she walked out of the room. Hermione had started to scream again and each wail was like a physical blow to his father, to him, to Sammy. They sat in that room and just listened to Hermione's pain-filled voice recede into the distance until they couldn't hear it anymore.
Dean had tried to run after her, but the door had been locked and they had been trapped. Sam had started to cry and their father had just sat there staring blankly. Dean had hugged Sam to him and they had waited.
They had been released and the cops had given them a lift back to the motel. Dean had held Sammy and John had gone out, hadn't come back for hours, had eventually returned drunk and bloody. He had collapsed onto the couch and passed out sitting up.
Dean gave his father one last look and moved back to Sammy; he crawled under the covers of the same bed and Sammy latched onto him like a limpet, like he was never going to let himself be moved ever again. Dean held Sam tighter.
The End…