A/n: I still don't own the Harry Potter or Supernatural characters. They belong to their creators, J. K. Rowling and Eric Kripke. I'm just playing with them.

Chapter title inspiration: Nobody's Hero- Black Veil Brides

Chapter 3

The Impala roared down the roads that would lead Dean, and the mystery to him that was Hermione, to Bobby's in South Dakota. Neither spoke to the other, each content to stay locked in their own minds, with their own thoughts. In fact, the only sound that could be heard in the car, other than the roar of the engine, was the song Paradise City by Guns-N-Roses.

Hermione sat stiffly, as close to the passenger door to the Impala as she could. She didn't know who this man was, or even where she was for that matter. The most she'd been able to deduce was that she was definitely in America, judging by the accents of the people she'd already met. The most alarming thing she'd discovered while under the tree watching the series of strange events that she'd had, was that her wand was missing. She'd been holding onto it when she'd went to check out what had turned out to be a ringing cell phone apparently abandoned near the beach. The best she could figure is that she must have dropped it.

Suddenly, she remembered the Order broadcast from the previous night, and what Bill had told them about certain members of the Order setting up portkeys for muggles to find to hopefully get them out of England. She must have stumbled on one that was meant for any muggles that happened to live within the vicinity of Bill and Fleur's cottage safe house. Hermione gave herself a mental kick, touching the muggle cell phone had been a mistake of epic proportions. She was supposed to be the brightest witch of her age, and yet, here she'd fallen prey to a portkey that had dropped her somewhere in America, with a strange man, with no wand, and no safe way to return to England where she was really needed.

Her head bowed with the knowledge that she had just screwed her friends over in the war against Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters, when her eyes landed on the sleeves of the pink hoodie she was wearing. Blood was staining the arm sleeve on the left which had her moving her other hand to cover it. With all the stress, and the physicality of traveling via portkey, the "mudblood" carved into her arm must have started bleeding again. Tears pricked the back of Hermione's eyes when she thought back to Malfoy Manner. She scanned the passing view from the car, thinking it a great deal different than where she'd been tortured only a little over 24 hours prior.

Dean watched the young woman out of the corner of his eye as he drove. Though the grief of losing the younger brother he'd practically raised, was so strong it threatened to crush him, he needed to get to the bottom of who this girl was, why she had been at the cemetery, and how on earth he was going to get her back to where she came from, so he could keep his promise to Sam. His promise to go to Lisa and Ben and live a normal "apple pie" life.

Her posture was stiff, like she couldn't get comfortable, but her eyes were haunted. A look he knew well, and saw often in his line of work. He wondered what all had happened to the girl to give her that look. She looked young enough where he'd have thought she should be unknowing of things bad enough to haunt a person. Not knowing what to say to her, he gripped the steering wheel tighter and pressed down a little harder on the gas pedal.

A way down the road, he stopped at a gas station to fill Baby and let Hermione do her thing. He was pleasantly surprised she didn't linger or anything. She darted quickly straight to the bathroom, and back to the car where she retook her seat as close to the door as she could get without leaning on it. With a sigh and a grunt, Dean replaced the gas cap on Baby and got back behind in behind the steering wheel, though he didn't immediately start the car.

"Can I just ask you one thing before we head on the road again?" He asked the girl.

"You can ask me anything." Hermione replied, her eyes flashing quickly to Dean's.

"Is there family that I need to contact to let them know you're safe?" He asked, taking in the depth of her brown eyes.

"No, no one is looking for me." She replied knowing darn well that Ron and Harry would want to try finding her, but that it would be too dangerous for all involved for them to do much searching for her. The smart thing for them to do, is to look for her following the war, after Lord Voldemort had been defeated once and for all. On the other hand, her parents didn't know she existed, thanks to her skills in memory charms.

"Why not?" Dean asked taken aback. He thought for sure this girl would have family and friends scouring the planet for her.

"Long story." Hermione told him gently, her lips forming a slight crooked smile.

Dean nodded once at her to acknowledge he understood what she was telling him with those two seemingly little words. The haunted look in her eyes had increased exponentially with her answer, despite the ever slight lift to the left corner of her mouth. He turned the key in the ignition, and Baby roared to life once again. The silence between the two was less awkward this time when they took off down the road, and Hermione's posture was less stiff than it had been. In fact, she was starting to relax around Dean, which for him not being Harry or Ron, was a new experience for her. He didn't pressure her to talk about anything, he took her at her word when she'd given him long story for an answer. In fact, she'd noted in his eyes an understanding as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

She knew he'd seen a lot of weird in the field they had left, but he was taking it fairly in stride. She wondered if it was merely normal for him. She wondered if he was an American wizard who could help her get home. She figured they were headed somewhere where they'd have a chance to talk, and she could subtly figure out whether he was a wizard, and if not, what he was that would have him reacting better to magical occurrences than he ought to have. If she were being truly honest with herself, she'd even seen weirder things in that field, than even what she'd seen being a part of the wizarding world back home in England.

Thinking about home caused a pang in her heart. She had already decided she wouldn't be home before Voldemort was defeated, so she hoped she had a home to go back to someday. Along with home came the pang in her heart from not having her wand. She was barely able to perform a few spells without her wand. She couldn't apparate or floo, because both forms of wizarding transportation were watched and monitored by the taken over Ministry of Magic. Finding a broom to ride would take a while, she wasn't a fan of flying, and the actual flight itself would take forever. Brightest witch of her age, not really she thought to herself. She was in too much of a pickle currently to be considered by that particular title.

Dean sensed that she was less stiff in her seat and was becoming more comfortable riding in his car. He wasn't sure why, but under the circumstances, that brought him a sliver of something that used to resemble pride. The girl still looked sad and haunted, but less like she was going to bolt the second the car stopped. The road seemed endless to him, and he was hoping to be to Bobby's by morning. He still had a number of hours to go, and the sun was setting quickly. He took a quick glance at the watch on his wrist and noted that it was about the time normal people ate. He figured he should probably feed his passenger. The next turn off with a sign pointing towards a town, he took, where he promptly found a diner and parked.

"What are we doing?" Hermione asked, her spine stiffening again. Her hand automatically starting for her back pocket, before she remembered she didn't have what she was reaching for anyway.

"Food. I figure you've got to be hungry, we've been on the road for a few hours now, and I haven't seen you eat anything." Dean replied very matter-of-factly.

"Oh, I don't have any money on me." Hermione replied linking her fingers together in front of her.

"I've got it sweetheart. Let's get some grub and we can just talk." Dean told her, trying not to be so gruff that he scared her.

"Okay, if you insist." She replied giving him a soft, tentative smile, before yanking the handle that let her out of the car.

Dean's brain forced him to accept the fact that he found her small smile pretty. It lessened the heavier emotions he saw swimming in her eyes every time he looked at her. Suddenly, he found himself not quite ready to take off as soon as he got to Bobby's. Maybe he'd stick around Bobby's while Hermione figured out what she wanted to do since getting away from the kidnapper she'd escaped from. Maybe Bobby would insist that she stay at Singer Salvage for a while so they could protect her, that is if her kidnapper came back for her.

Dean stayed a couple of steps behind Hermione all of the way into the diner, constantly looking around for any signs of anything off. He was in hunter mode all of the time, and if he was going to keep his promise to Sam, he had to try and turn that off, however, he wasn't going to let his guard down quite yet. He got them a table and sat across from Hermione, noting how as soon as she sat she did so on her hands.

"You do that often?" He asked her before his brain could filter the question into something better to have asked her.

"What do you mean?" Hermione replied cocking her head to the side and frowning.

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone sit on their hands before. It looks uncomfortable." Dean replied giving her a gentle smile to hopefully ease any nerves she had about talking to him.

"Oh, I guess I didn't realize I did." Hermione replied a comely shade of red briefly coloring her cheeks, as well as the tops of her ears. Slowly she pulled her hands out from underneath her and folded them in her lap. She knew why she'd sat on her hands. It was a combination of habit, from making sure she didn't sit on her wand and break it, and the desire for Dean not to see the blood stain on her sleeve and ask her about it. The blood stain had gotten larger in size since she discovered that there was one, only now the fabric was sticking to the skin of her forearm.

"So you said your name is Hermione?" Dean asked. When she nodded he continued. "How did your parents come up with that name?"

"My parents were teachers, and were big into Greek mythology. My name is Greek; it means: well born. It's also supposed to be the name of the daughter born to Helen of Troy, and her first husband Menelaus of Sparta." Hermione replied.

"Wow, interesting." Dean said, impressed with the young woman across from him.

"Where did your mom get the name Dean?" Hermione asked.

"That's a very long story meant for a different day." Dean said wryly. He wasn't about to admit he was named after his maternal grandmother.

"Fair enough." Hermione conceded, relaxing back against the padded seating of the booth they were occupying.

"Where are you from?" Dean asked.

"London, England. You?" She replied.

"Actually my younger brother and I were born in the same town where the cemetery was. Lawrence, Kansas." He said.

"Oh." Hermione said.

He was the tall guy who fell into the hole at the cemetery." Dean replied.

"You mean Sammy? I heard you say something to Castiel about getting your brother in a hole" She responded gently, not wanting to push him into giving her more information than he was ready to.

"How did you know?" Dean countered astonished that she would even know Sam's name. Neither Cas, Bobby, nor himself had ever referred to Sam by name in front of her, he was sure.

"When I first came over to you, at the cemetery, you kept saying how Sammy was gone." Hermione replied shrugging her shoulders.

"Really?" Dean asked. "I guess I didn't realize I was saying anything."

"It's okay, you were injured and grieving, I get it. Trust me." Hermione replied reaching over carefully with her right hand to cover Dean's on the table.