"I'm looking for Mrs Granger?"
Hermione's heart jumped in her chest. It had been a week since she'd heard from John and two days since she'd contacted Bobby. The only people who called looking for Mrs Granger were those calling about the boys.
"Why?" She demanded, cautiously.
"This here is Sheriff Digby. I've got a Dean Granger here in custody. He yours?"
She groaned this time, meeting Sam's worried gaze across the room.
"Of course you do." She muttered, worry quickly replaced with anger. "Yes, he's mine. Want me to come and get him?"
"Are you mad at me?"
Hermione didn't answer, just focused on the road ahead, jaw clenched.
"Crap." Dean whispered to himself.
"You left him with the police!" Dean scowled and rested his head in his hands. Sam grimaced sympathetically next to him as they sat in their customary positions at the top of the stairs. They were listening to Hermione who'd been yelling down the phone line for ten minutes and showed no sign of slowing down any time soon. "You realise he has a permanent mark on his record now, don't you? Why did you even let him out of your sight?"
"I'm sixteen." Dean muttered to Sam.
"You got caught." Sam pointed out.
Sam yelped when his brother punched his shoulder.
"John, I don't care if the hunt was important. I don't even care if you were seconds away from the son of a bitch who took Mary. The only thing I care about is you bringing Dean home safely." She kicked at the table, sending a vase crashing to the floor. "There were bigger concerns at the time!" She repeated on the verge of screaming. "John Winchester, there are only two lives you should be concerned with..."
There was silence for a second and then...
"No." Hermione was now almost pleading. "No way. He's too young...You don't need him, he's twelve you utter bastard. I'm sorry, but over my dead body are you taking Sam hunting!"
She slammed the phone down.
The brothers stared at each other.
"I don't want to go hunting." Sam whispered.
"I know, Sammy." Dean messed up his hair, which made Sam scowl. "No one's going to let anything happen to you."
After that the fights became a lot more frequent. The boys weren't very sure what started them, just that they made Hermione very stressed and their father very angry. Things got worse from then on and had Dean been looking for it, he could have pinpointed the exact moment his family began to go down hill. But at the time he wasn't looking for it. Hermione had given him the luxury of being like any other sixteen year old and he was thoroughly enjoying it.
"WHERE IS HE?"
Hermione smiled innocently at the irate father.
"Who?"
"The Granger boy!"
She laughed, tucking the shotgun back into its place, behind the door.
"Sam?" she called, smirking slightly.
Sam stuck his head around the living room door.
"Yeah?"
"Come here a moment. This gentleman would like to talk to you."
Sam padded to the door and smiled up at the man, whose face was slowly turning a worrying shade of red.
"Not that one! The big one!"
"Big one?" Hermione pretended to think for a moment, studiously keeping her gaze away from the two teenagers sneaking down the side of the front garden. "Oh, you mean Dean? Tell you what, why don't you come in for a second and I'll go check his room?" She shut the door behind the man.
Another five minutes later and an elaborate pantomime involving showing Dean's empty room and coming to the conclusion that Dean had to be at the Library in town, because her boy was ever so studious, and the man was about ready to have an aneurysm.
"Listen, I know he came in here, I followed him..."
Hermione's eyes darkened and the man took a step backwards as she seemed to lose her temper.
"You followed my son! What kind of sick freak are you!"
The man paled.
"Now, you just listen here..."
"Sam!" She called. "Get me the phone. I need to call the police." She turned back to the man who was slowly backing his way out of the house. "How dare you go anywhere near Dean! I bet you don't even have a daughter, you're just some disgusting weirdo who hangs around at the school gate looking for young boys. Is that it?"
Sam handed her the phone.
"Here you go."
The man had fled before she'd even pressed the first number, Sam slamming the door behind him. The twelve year old looked at her, completely serious.
"Well, that was weird."
Hermione collapsed into giggles, sliding down the wall. Sam joined her, almost rolling around on the floor in mirth.
"Did you see his face?" He gasped out.
Hermione grinned at him.
"Blimey." She wiped a stray tear away from her eyes. "Did you text your brother?"
Sam nodded.
"Yeah. Told him to hang out in town for a bit."
She got to her feet.
"Who wants to see how much grovelling we can get him to do?"
Dean didn't get home till six and was greeted by his smirking brother.
"Mum's furious." Sam told him cheerfully.
Paling slightly, Dean headed into the kitchen, where Hermione was sitting at the kitchen table.
"Uh...hi."
"Hi, to you too. Sit."
He sat, tugging at his collar to his the marks on his shoulders.
"So what's their name?"
Dean groaned.
"'Mione please..."
Hermione glared at him
"Dean Winchester, I chased a man out of this house, yelling that he was a paedophile. I think I deserve some details. Like a name, age, gender..."
Dean mumbled something under his breath and Hermione's eyes sharpened.
"What was that?" She barked.
"Her name's Holly. She's in my English class." He almost whispered.
Hermione smirked.
"She seemed nice. Of course, I couldn't tell. You didn't introduce her."
Dean's shoulders slumped.
"She's nice. Pretty." He glared resentfully at the table.
"Of course she is." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Right then Casanova, we need to have a talk."
"What?" Dean's eyes went wide and he blushed. "Oh, come on. Not this again, 'Mione."
She chuckled.
"Not that talk. But if you want we can go through the whole thing again?"
Dean banged his head off the table.
"'Mione..." He begged.
"I'm just teasing." She frowned at him and Dean caught something other than the usual bemusement in his godmother's eyes. She was worried. Really, really worried. He hadn't seen her this worried since he was thirteen and his dad had taken him away for his first hunt. "I've got no problem with you dating or whatever it was you were doing up there, as long as you act like a gentleman and behave the way I raised you to. However..." Her hands, clasped on the table, tightened until her knuckles turned white. "Your father won't approve." She rubbed at her temples. "Are you happy at school? Living here with me?"
"Well, yeah." Dean grinned. "Course. Why wouldn't I be?"
Hermione sighed.
"Your dad is going to expect a choice from you soon. I've been holding him off for as long as I can, your Uncle Bobby's been helping, keeping him on hunts on the other side of America, Merlin knows John's been giving him all sorts of grief about it..." She bit her lip and stopped talking.
"Is this about those phone calls?" He asked warily. "You and dad fightin' all the time?"
Hermione ran her hands through her hair, charging them with static. The curls almost crackled around her face in her agitation and, not for the first time, Dean reflected on how young his godmother was.
"Well, in part, yes. You're sixteen. You can leave school at the end of this summer and officially I can't stop your father from taking you." She twitched. "Not that I ever could of course, it's just...However, as far as I'm concerned you're still a child." She gave a slightly hollow laugh. "I suppose it's a bit hard not to see the tiny boy you used to be and now..." She trailed off.
"So what, Dad's gonna take me off to be a hunter?" He asked curiously.
"That's your choice." She tapped out an uneven rhythm on the table and didn't meet his eyes. "But it's only your choice, Dean. Don't let him take that away from you."
He smirked.
"Don't worry, 'Mione. I'll be fine."
"DEAN!"
The teenager jumped, staring at her in amazement as she slammed her hands down, knocking the sugar bowl over.
"Listen to me." She hissed, eyes wide. "There may come a time when I am not there to look after you and I need to know that you're going to be okay! Darling, you know how much you two mean to me and..."
"You want me to look after Sam?" He dead panned.
"What?" Hermione stared at him. "Why would I ask you to do that?"
He gave an uncomfortable shrug.
"It's what Dad tells me. Look after Sammy. Watch out for Sammy. Remember Sammy." He imitated his father's growl, wrinkling his nose in annoyance.
"Dean, you're his big brother. Of course you're going to look after him. It's part of who you are and he'll look after you too." Dean scoffed at the idea of his baby brother trying to protect him and Hermione smiled faintly. "No, Dean. I want you to look out for yourself. Sam's getting to an age where his big brother can't fix every single problem in the world. Not that he won't try." She added when he bristled. "But you have your own problems and your own life. I need to know that you are going to look out for yourself. Do you understand?"
Dean stared at her, but nodded slowly.
"Sure, Auntie 'Mione. I understand."
"He deserves a life, freedom. You can't just drag him out on hunts as and when you feel like. He needs to go to school. Get an education."
"He's not a kid..."
"Yes he is! He's sixteen. He deserves to get that choice."
John snorted in disgust.
"There's nothing he needs to learn that comes from school. Those exams are just a distraction. He's going to be a hunter."
Hermione snarled.
"No, he's being forced to be a hunter. You want him to be one. Have you ever even asked Dean what he wants to do with his life?"
"I'm his father, I know..."
"He's not five any more, John! The days where you could just pick him up and drop him where you wanted him to be are gone. It's his life, for Merlin's sake, let him live it!"
John's eyes narrowed and he took a step closer to her.
"What the hell would you know? You're not his mother, you're not even his real aunt. You're just a glorified babysitter." He smirked. "You couldn't hold onto your own family so you borrowed mine."
"Get out!" She hissed, eyes glinting in fury.
John scoffed.
"You can't throw me out."
Hermione's hair began to charge with static.
"I beg to differ. My house...my children." She raised her palms to shove him away from her.
"They're not your children!" He retorted.
"LEAVE!" She screamed, and with a tidal wave of horror, felt her magic push through her palms sending John flying backwards. He hit the wall of the kitchen, knocking over a shelf of books. The hunter stared at her in disgust.
"What the hell are you?"
In that second Hermione's temper, so carefully held in check for almost twelve years, broke free and she made a terrible, irrational decision. She drew her wand from her pocket, twirling it between her fingers.
"You know," She whispered softly. "I've had it up to here with you, Winchester. You didn't raise these boys, I did. You're a lousy excuse for a father. So you leave my house now and I won't curse you to within an inch of your life. You leave now and you never come back to threaten my family."
"I should never have trusted you." John spat, drawing his gun.
"I should have pushed Mary to a divorce." She cocked her head to one side, dimly aware that she probably looked like the monster John suspected her to be. "It's funny what hindsight can teach you, isn't it?"
John raised the gun and Hermione finally acted. John dodged the first spell but the second hit him in the gut, causing his legs to snap together. He wobbled and Hermione caught him with a levitation charm. He really hadn't stood a chance, she thought darkly
"Bye." She hissed, propelling John out the house. "Colloportus." She added, locking the door in his face.
"I did something stupid, Bobby." She murmured.
Hermione watched Sam and Dean eating dinner, laughing over something.
"Yeah, I know. John just got in touch with me wantin' to know the best way to and I quote "roast that bitch all the way back to hell.""
"Creative." She whispered, glancing out the blinds cautiously. Harry rubbed at her ankles in comfort, purring. She knew Kneazle purrs though. That one wasn't from contentment. It was a war cry. "We're moving. But on the off chance he does get to them, he'll go to you. You know that. I can't come after them if they go with John willingly. Just..." she paused, willing herself not to cry. "Take care of our boys, Singer."
"Yeah, well whose gonna take care of you?"
She didn't really have an answer for that.
Hermione could have packed by magic. She could have left everything behind and vanished with the brothers back to England. She could have done any number of things. The list of things she was willing to do however, was much shorter. She'd considered telling the boys about magic and about her. Sam would probably have believed her but Dean...He'd been taught since he was four that witches were evil. He'd take Sam and run straight to John and that was the last thing she wanted.
So she told them there was a high demon count in town and they were moving before things got bad. It would take a week for them to leave. She could hold off one muggle for a week.
John had found them after school, the Impala parked on the curbside.
"Dad!" The brothers stared at him as he leaned against the black polished metal.
"What are you doing here?" Sam asked suspiciously.
"Is that anyway to talk to your father?" John smiled at them and something about it set Dean's teeth on edge. "Listen, I cleared it with Hermione and I'm taking you both on a hunt. Up in South Dakota. That sound good to you?"
Sam stepped back, partially hiding behind his brother.
"I don't wanna go hunting."
"Sam, get in the car!" John ordered.
"I won't let you get hurt." Dean whispered, as they sat together in the back seat. Sam twitched but otherwise didn't respond.
"Look, I'm going to swing by the house so you can pick up your hunting gear, okay kid?"
Warily, Dean nodded. They left Sam in the car, John drawing his weapon as Dean unlocked the door. He left his father in the hallway, pacing like a caged tiger and headed upstairs to grab some things for him and Sammy. There was the sounds of a scuffle coming from downstairs and he zipped the bag closed and sped down the stairs.
John was bleeding from his temple and he and Hermione circled each other in the hall. She had a stick clenched in one hand, and the other was pressed tightly to her thigh, which was bleeding sluggishly.
The continued to circle each other, but Hermione paled when she saw Dean and John's eyes narrowed maliciously.
"Oh, don't stop on his account. Go on. Show him what a monster you are."
"'Mione?" Dean asked, one hand holding the duffle bag. "What's going on?"
"Nothing, sweetheart." Hermione swallowed and dropped the stick. It landed with a clatter on the floor and she backed away from John. For a fraction of a second, Hermione's expression crumpled. Then she met Dean's gaze and he was surprised by the strength in it. Strength and resignation.
"Don't you hurt him. Don't you dare." She hissed, glaring at John. "Look after yourselves." She whispered to Dean. She'd backed into the wall by this point, John following her as though they were performing some form of macabre dance. Dean felt frozen, a thousand interpretations clamouring at him, but the truth, horrible apparent. His father was hunting a monster and Hermione was the one backing away.
"You don't get to talk to my children." John snarled. "You don't get to do much of anything."
He shoved her backwards so her head cracked off the wall, bringing the knife he'd concealed in his coat forward to stab her through the shoulder. The blade went through her flesh like so much wet cardboard and Dean heard the thunk as it sunk into the drywall behind her. Hermione shrieked in agony. Dean didn't make a sound, just stared in shock and horror.
"'Mione?" He almost whimpered.
"Get in the car." His father ordered, turning to leave. Dean, acting on auto pilot more than anything else, made to follow, but he turned back at the last moment. Blood was starting to soak into her shirt and she hung limp and pale, like a marionette with it's strings cut. But she lifted her head and stared at him as he backed away, shaking his head in horror.
"It's okay." She promised, tears racing down her cheeks. "It's okay."
John drove through the night, with Sam boring himself to sleep in the back seat. Dean knew because he hadn't taken his eyes off his brother for a second, too shocked to do much else. John didn't talk to him and for once, Dean wasn't interested in one iota of his fathers attention. Sam woke up as the crossed the state border into South Dakota. As far as Dean could tell they were headed to Bobby's place. Bobby was going to kill him. Hermione was...
Sam sprang out the second the car stopped and ran straight to Bobby, throwing his arms around the man.
"What the hell is wrong with that boy?" John muttered angrily.
Dean clenched his teeth, ignoring the question.
"Did you get her?" Bobby called as soon as Sam had gone inside.
Dean almost dropped his bag in shock, staring at his honorary uncle in shock.
"Yep. Right through the shoulder with iron, just like you said." John seemed to be exceptionally pleased with himself as though he'd slain some ghoul and not the closest thing Dean had had to a mother since he'd been four.
"You gonna tell me what the hell happened? You just stabbed my godmother!" He'd tried to keep his temper but somehow it had just exploded out of his control and he almost screamed at them. The two hunters stared at him, visibly shocked.
"Dean, she was a monster. A witch." John shook his head ruefully. "Damn powerful one too. She needed to be stopped."
"What?" He gasped.
John shrugged.
"I'd suspected something was up with her for a while. She's been manipulating you, Dean."
The teenager staggered back, falling hard against the Impala.
"I don't...What?" He repeated.
Vaguely he registered Bobby saying;
"Give the kid some time. He's had a nasty shock."
Gravel crunched under Bobby's boots as he approached.
"Dean? Look at me dammit!"
Dean jerked his gaze up.
"Is it true?" He demanded.
Bobby swore under his breath.
"Kid, listen..."
"Is. It. True?" Dean bit out, furious now.
The older hunter sighed.
"Your dad thinks so, yeah."
Somehow in the next few months Dean hung onto the hope that his father could be wrong. But John would never lie to him, especially about something like this. The difficulty was telling Sam.
"We're not going home, are we?"
Dean jumped and stared at his brother. Sam had been quiet over the summer, especially since they left Bobby's. The older hunter had fallen out with John and they'd been switching from motel to motel ever since.
"Sammy...?"
"Mum's all right, isn't she?"
"Yeah." Dean lied. For all he knew she was dead. "It's just...we're staying with dad from now on."
"But..."
"Just leave it, Sam."
"Come on, Dean."
Dean glared at his father across the clearing.
"I'm not gonna fight you, dad."
John relaxed his fighting stance, scowling.
"I need to know how much I've got to teach you. So come on..."
John swung for him and Dean dodged the blow, ten years worth of training kicking in. The fight was short and brutal, ending with John flat on his back and Dean crouched next to his head.
"Warned you." he murmured, before dusting himself off and heading back to the motel.
It was his seventeenth birthday when it happened. Dean had been trekking back to the car, shivering in the January cold. The hunt had been successful, but he'd been separated from his dad about half an hour ago and left with little choice but to head back along. Swearing, he clapped a hand to the back of his head, convinced he'd just been hit with a rock. He shone his torch up into the trees, searching for the culprit. When nothing jumped out at him, he lowered the beam to the ground to look for the projectile.
"What the hell?" He muttered.
Almost indistinguishable from the brown leaf litter, a small parcel sat innocently by his foot. Cautiously he picked it up and almost dropped it again when he spotted his name written on it in a worryingly familiar script.
He almost left it there, but something in him was horribly curious and he slit the strings holding the parcel together with his knife. A note and a watch unrolled into his palm.
Dean,
Where I come from we come of age at seventeen. A pocket watch is usually traditional but I thought this would be more practical. I know you're probably mad at me and you have no reason to listen to me but...if you ever need anything I'll be waiting for you.
Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus.
The short note wasn't signed but it didn't need to be. He'd seen this handwriting before. On his sick notes, school trip forms, shopping lists...
At least she wasn't dead, he thought and then promptly berated himself. As his father often said, he wasn't supposed to care.
John grabbed at his wrist as he passed, tugging the sleeve up.
"What's that?" He demanded curiously.
Dean glanced down guiltily. He knew he shouldn't have kept it, but something in him just hadn't wanted to let go. It was the same part of him which believe his father had stabbed an innocent woman.
"Watch." He said shortly. "Won it off some guy.
John accepted the lie easily, examining the silver curiously.
"You going to sell it?"
Dean pulled his arm away from his father, letting his sleeve drop to cover it. Sam, who'd know almost immediately who'd sent it, stared at his big brother, shaking his head very slowly.
"Nah." He decided.
"How'd you know?" Dean asked the next time he and his brother were alone.
Sam beamed at him.
"The story," He told him happily. "Harry Potter got one for his birthday."
"Sam," Dean said weakly. "You know that's just a story right? None of it's true."
"Oh, yeah? Like werewolves or vampires?" Sam gave him a look which implied he was being stupid. "Mum wouldn't lie to us."
Dean sighed.
"You know we can't go back, don't you?"
Sam glared at him.
"I know Dad says we can't."
It was February when they met him. Sam and Dean were sitting at a booth in a diner, pouring over files. Sam was half asleep, John having kept him up late for running drills and Dean's eyes were staring dully out the window. Neither boy has done any work in the last half an hour. John would be furious. But John had left town and wouldn't be back for several days, so Dean couldn't quite bring himself to care.
His eyes were drawn to a man with dark hair who stalks past the window. He paused when he spotted Dean, before he continued on past the window. He'd looked strangely familiar.
The door to the diner opened with a clang and the man stepped inside, making a beeline for the Winchesters. He was middle aged, with messy dark hair and bright, startling green eyes, hidden behind wire frames. Dean nudged Sam awake as the man drew nearer, one hand reaching into his pocket for his gun.
"Hello."
Sam's eyes widened.
"You're English." He said gleefully. "Just like..." Dean kicked him to shut him up and Sam stared at him, confused.
"Just like your godmother." The man finished.
They stared at him and he ran a hand through his hair as though uncomfortable.
"Listen, I really don't have a lot of time. I was just passing through the area, I'm actually tracking someone at the moment but I saw you two in the window and...Do you know how worried we've been? Hermione's been going insane, not knowing if you two are okay." He eyed Dean warily. "I see you got your watch."
Silently, Dean nodded. Evidently sensing he wasn't going to get much more out of him, the man turned to Sam who was almost bouncing with excitement. "I've got to ask, are you two safe with your father?"
Sam nodded reluctantly.
"He treating you well?" The man adds, green eyes blazing.
Sam nodded reluctantly.
"Dad said Mu...'Mione was evil. That she didn't really care about us."
For a brief second Dean saw something close to fury on the man's face, before he rolled his eyes and gave them an easy smile.
"Hermione isn't evil. Trust me, I'd know. She's terrifying, scary, bossy...but never evil. Believe me on that." He clenched his jaw. "Listen to me Sam. There is no one on this earth Hermione cares about, more than you two. You know where she is when you need her."
"Who are you?" Sam calls as the man strides away.
He paused at the door, turning to smile at them.
"My names Harry Potter. I'm your uncle." And he left.
It was a tiny town in the middle of nowhere and for some reason Dean couldn't quite fathom, it was having a market. His eyes were drawn to a brightly coloured stall, bedecked with purple flags which bore a logo of three gold W's. The red haired man behind the stall watched him, smirking. He had long shaggy hair, which framed blue eyes and one ear.
"Uncle George." He greeted warily.
The prankster grinned.
"Hey kid. How'd you know it was me?"
"'Mione had a picture of you in her library. She told me your name. You looking for me?" He added tightly.
"Nah. Just figured I'd set up a stall here. Nice place, isn't it?" His voice jarred horribly with the mid-west town and it brought to mind bedtime stories told in a terribly precise accent.
"Right. What's with that then?"
George grinned at the photo frame which took up centre stage on the table. Sam and Dean were covered in cream, dirt and other unmentionable substances. They were grinning at the camera and holding a sign that read. "Hermione is going to kill you, Forge Weasley!"
"That's my tenth birthday. 'Mione got me stuff from your shop."
The man nodded.
"Yeah, well 'Mione's got the whole family on the watch for you. Gotta say, it's nice to finally meet one of my illusive nephews." He looked him over. "Merlin, you look more worried than Granger did during the war. I'm not going to attack you. Hermione would kill me if I did."
Dean shrugged and didn't relax.
"She came after you, you know." The red head cut across him before he could open his mouth to respond. "That bastard got her in the gut with some sort of lead thing...I don't know. Took her three weeks to recover and by then she'd lost the trail. Your father's done something to keep her away. When Harry found you it was a complete accident. She stopped looking after that." George scowled up at him, tilting his chair back to a precarious angle. "I was just passing through when I saw you and your brother. How is Sam?"
Dean didn't say anything, eyeing his boots.
"Listen, I get it. You're more loyal to your father than you are to the woman who raised you. That's fine."
Dean flinched.
"He's my dad." He muttered, loyally. "I thought she was dead..."
George laughed darkly.
"Sure. Whatever yow he remembered.
"I can't go back." He said suddenly. "Not now..."
His honorary uncle watched him through narrowed eyes.
"Maybe you know Hermione better than I do. I don't know. I haven't seen her since she got saddled with you two, gave up a lot for you, you realise. Not that I'm trying to make you feel guilty. But the great thing about our Hermione, is that she forgives almost anything. I should know, my idiot little brother and Potter put her through hell. She forgave my mother for calling her a harlot. She even forgave me and my twin for...well quite a lot of things, really. You think she can't forgive you?"
Dean didn't answer.
"Dean?"
He glanced up the road, catching sight of his father.
"I've got to go."
George gave a deep sigh.
"Fine. Do what you like, Granger. But she'll be there when you need her."
Dean didn't tell his brother about meeting George. It probably wouldn't have made much difference, in truth, because by then things had begun to change for the Winchesters. Sam, who'd been difficult to begin with, became downright rebellious. It started small, ordering tea in a diner instead of coffee, using the British slang Hermione had passed on to them growing up. John scowled every time he did it, jaw clenching in anger. It only grew from there. Dean had once found him telling other kids about Harry Potter and Hogwarts. He wouldn't do what his father asked, only going on hunts when there was no other option. He barely spoke to Dean and buried himself in his school work. He even ran away several times, getting further and further with each attempt. Dean always caught him before he got too far but it was the principle that bothered him.
When Sam's watch arrived on his seventeenth birthday and for the first time, Dean began to see a glimmer of hope in his little brother.
Three days later Sam had a bag packed and a dangerous glint in his eye.
"I'm leaving." He said.
"Like hell you are!" John clenched his fist around the whiskey bottle. He should have been physically intimidating, but Sam had finally hit his growth spurt and, although lanky, now towered over the older hunter.
"I'm going and you can't stop me."
John snorted in disgust, eyes bloodshot and angry.
"You step out that door, boy and you ain't ever coming back."
"Suits me fine."
That was the last thing Sam Winchester ever said to his father. Dean waited ten minutes and then snuck outside. He caught up with brother halfway down the road.
"Where are you going, Sam?" He called from the car.
"Train station."
Dean sighed.
"Get in, would you?" He ordered.
Silently, Sam folded himself into the front seat, his bag balanced across his legs.
"I'm not going back." He said stubbornly.
"I'm not gonna ask you to." Dean tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as they waited at a red light. "Where are you headed? Bobby's?"
"Mum's house."
Dean almost slammed on the brakes. He turned to face his brother in shock.
"What! Weren't you listening to Dad? We can't go back there."
"Yeah. I heard Dad. The first thousand times. But seriously Dean, did you ever see any proof?"
Dean clenched his jaw.
"No." He said unwillingly. "But I saw the knife."
Sam stared at him in shock.
"What?"
"Dad stabbed her. In the shoulder." He sighed. "Sam, I don't know what to think. Even if she is completely normal...he's our dad. We should listen to him. He wouldn't lie to us."
"You always take his side." Sam grumbled. There were drawing close to the train station now and Sam grabbed the handle of his bag. "Come with me." He pleaded desperately.
"What?" Dean gaped at him. "Sam...Dad needs me. I can't just leave him."
Sam opened the door and stepped out on to the pavement.
"I thought you'd say that." He murmured. "Bye Dean."
Dean leaped from the car.
"That's it? You're walking away from me forever and that's all your going to say? Bye?"
Several paces ahead Sam's shoulders slumped.
"Dean, I'm just going home. You're the one whose walking away. I'll text you, okay?"
Two days later Dean get the message he was promised.
Two words.
Home safe.
This chapter was HARD!
Let me know what you think. I'm going to do my best to have this finished by tomorrow.
We're pulling an all nighter, Ladies and Gentlemen!
Wondering if there's coffee,
Hood.
P.S If you haven't, please check out my Sherlock/Hermione crossover. Stalemate is the third one in my series and I didn't write almost 20000 words for nothing.
