Chapter Ten: The Beginning of The End
Sam Winchester and Dean Winchester
Sam sat on the motel bed in their room. He hadn't seen Dean in a couple of hours. He hadn't dated another girl since he had met Luna. Dean however was another story. He didn't date. He had sex with any pretty girl that passed him by. It was how he was able to deal with things. Sam flipped on the television set, and he sat back. He was old. He could feel it in his body. They were too old for this, but what else could they do? The Apocalypse was over. They were now jobless. If you could even call saving the world a job. They did what they did best. They hunted for the supernatural, and they destroyed it as best as they could. He could hardly call what he had with Luna love. Though he had dreamt of her every night since they left. That had to count for something. Didn't it? Sam flipped off the t.v., and he stood up. They were leaving Wisconsin soon. Most likely tomorrow afternoon if Dean wasn't too wasted. He went to the bathroom, clicked on the light, and he closed the door. He shed himself of every article of clothing he was wearing, and he stepped into the shower.
He turned on the faucet, and he didn't even flinch when the cold water hit his back. It would soon be warmer. It always was. He didn't know what to feel. He had waited patiently every day for ten years for the voice to tell him it was okay to go back. It had been six years since his patience had begun to run thin. He lived as a machine. Finding the supernatural. Killing it. Repeat. Every place was the same. The only thing that changed was the number to the hotel room they were staying in. What kind of existence was this if he couldn't even be happy? He unclicked the shampoo bottle and he squirted whatever kind it was into his hand. He washed his hair, and he rinsed in the almost warm water. He sat down in the tub allowing the water to shower over him. He heard the door open and slam shut. "The saddest part of a broken heart, is not the end so much as the start." He heard his brother slur from the other room. Dean was back, and he was piss drunk. Sam sighed. He didn't want to put up with Dean's bullshit right now.
Dean crawled into his queen sized bed, and he let the vodka bottle drop to the floor. His head was spinning, and he was comfortably numb. He didn't care about anything. Especially not the blond downstairs that was practically drooling over him. He could have any girl like that any day of the week, but he had been tired from his rounds of sexcapades. That was what Sam had called them. Sam must have been gone, and Dean was okay with that. That gave him time to himself. He opened the side drawer, and he took out a picture of Hermione that she had given him early in their relationship. He held it in his hands delicately, and he rubbed his thumb over her face. She was smiling, and she was happy. He missed her terribly, and he tried his best to rid himself of the fact that she was pregnant when he had left.
He didn't want to leave her, and when he had heard he thought it was some rouse from Cas to make him stay. He wanted to stay. He thought about Hermione every second of every day. He pictured their daughter or son, and his eyes burned with tears. He picked up the bottle from the floor. He slunk down on the side of his bed, and he gulped down more of whatever it was he was drinking. He needed to be rid of the thoughts of her that plagued him. His child had grown up without a father. Tears fell down in angry streams. He had been ripped away from his love, and deprived of a family he could call his own. He threw his bottle against the wall, and shards of glass ricocheted back at him. He cut his hands trying to pick up the pieces. He wiped away the tears from his eyes, and blood smeared across his cheeks. All he could do was what Sam did. Wait.
The bathroom door was open. It was Sam. Dean placed the glass in the trash basket. Sam sat down on his own bed. "Dean, this has to stop." He whispered. Dean didn't look at his brother. He just sat down on his own bed, and he crawled into the blankets letting the blood from his hands soak into the white of the sheets. Secretly, he hoped the wounds would kill him. Though he knew better. There was nothing he could do to end this hell he was in. There was no escaping it this time. Sam looked away from his brother, and he itched his nose. "Dean. This is no way to live." No it wasn't. It wasn't a way for him to live, but he didn't have a choice.
Hermione Granger
Teddy's birthday had came and gone without a flaw. The kids were asleep in their beds, and Hermione was in her room. In her closet to be exact. She pulled down the dusty old shoebox, and she blew off the dust. On the brown cardboard top was written in neat, clear letters 'Dean'. She hadn't looked at the materials in this box for a few weeks now. Her heart never strayed. She loved him, hopelessly. Even if he never loved her. She sat down on the floor, and she opened the box carefully. She didn't have much of Dean's. Just a black shirt that smelled like him. It still smelled like him, even after all these years. She pressed it to her face, and she inhaled, tears flowing down faster than a london rainfall. She missed him desperately. She needed him more than ever. How could she raise two teenagers with a mentally disturbed man, and an angel? She needed her Dean, but he had left her. Years ago. Without so much as a second glance. Why couldn't she be loved? Why was it her that wasn't able to have the joys of love?
What was wrong with her?
When she had been six months pregnant, and the wounds of his departure had still been fresh. She would waddle to the closet, and sit there for hours at a time. Only at night. During the day, no one could hardly ever tell that she had been affected so. She wouldn't allow them to see that. Teddy didn't deserve that, and Harry was just backing away from the brink of insanity. She had to be strong, and smile when her heart was screaming at her with pain. What else could she do? He would never come back to her.
"I knew you were trouble when you walked in." She sang softly to herself, but it was a lie. She didn't know, and even if she did... Well, she didn't care. She loved him, and she thought that he had loved her too.
Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up. It was Harry. "What are you doing down there?" He asked, cocking his head sideways. Hermione put the shirt back into the box, and she pushed it away from her. "Nothing, Harry." She replied, and he helped her to her feet.
She didn't know what was coming.
It was something no one would ever be able to see coming. Harry had good days, and he had bad days. His days were never as frightening as that night would be.
He walked with her back to her bed, and she sat down on the edge. He was still looking at her with his head cocked sideways, and Hermione had righted his head. "You'll get a crick in your neck if you keep doing that." She warned. His head snapped right back in that sideways direction. "Do you love me, Hermione?" He asked. Hermione sat up a little straighter. Why was he being so odd? "Yes, Harry." She replied without hesitation as she had done for years. Harry closed her bedroom door, and he twisted the lock. He looked at her, in that same sideways position. "And I love you, Hermione. Right?" Hermione was getting uncomfortable, and she was afraid. She bit her lip, and she nodded. "I hope so, Harry." He stood now directly in front of her, and he cast a silent spell behind his back. Hermione inched back from him, and Harry followed her crawling after her. Over her. With his head still cocked sideways. "Harry, what are you doing?" She questioned, fear showing in her face.
"Isn't this what people do, when they're in love?" He asked.
She was screaming for help, but no one came. He was over her. On her. Sweaty, and panting. No matter what she said, he wouldn't listen.
He was too far gone.
He held her down by her wrists, and the sheer force of his body on hers kept her pinned down.
When he was done, he got off of her, and he pulled his pants back on. "I love you, Hermione." He said, re-cocking his head in that postion, and he left her room.
Hermione's clothes were ripped off, and she was sobbing hysterically in her bed. Castiel burst in through the door, and he was taken aback by what he had seen. He ran to her side, and he hugged her. She cried into his shoulder. Cas shushed her. He knew what had happened. "T-take. The kids back to Hogwarts." She stammered through her tears. "They mustn't see me this way." Cas nodded, and he gave her one last longing look.
They all knew at some point he would snap. They just didn't know it would be in this way.
She waited until she heard the confused mumbling of her children, and the front door slam shut. She rushed to the door of her bedroom, and she locked it. It wouldn't protect her from Harry. She knew that, but it at least gave her some comfort. What has her life been reduced to? Hermione rushed into her attached bathroom, and she twisted on the faucet. The water shot down in jets. It was hot. It was burning. She felt disgusting. Worthless. She hurried into the shower, and began scrubbing her skin with her pouf. When that didn't seem to be working, she resorted to using her nails. Her body wash was full when she had started, and now it was almost gone. She began to draw blood in thin lines. She wasn't clean enough. She would never be clean enough. Thoughts that she would have never been able to consider earlier had crossed her mind, and she banished them. When she was satisfied with her arms, she continued on her legs, focusing on the upper thighs. Red mixed with the clearness of the water, and left it in pinks swirling around in the drain.
She heard the door creak open, and her heart beat noisily in her chest in utter terror. "Hermione." His voice had never sounded so sweet to her. He saw her in the tub, and he swiftly turned off the water. He pulled out a towel from the nearest cupboard, and he wrapped her up into it. She was still crying. She hadn't even realized. She was too focused on trying to get clean. Cas picked her up bridal style, and he carried her to his room. "He's gone. I took him to St. Mungo's. The kids are safe. You're safe now." He consoled her, holding her tight in his arms. She cried, and cried until the tears would no longer come. Castiel just held her, and he would hold her as long as it would take. Even if that ment, never leaving this bed for the rest of her life. He cared too much about her. Hermione never spoke a single word. Her face was red, and contorted with pain, and anguish. Her arms were lined with scratch marks and her legs were even worse.
When she did speak, it nearly broke Castiel's heart. "Why?" She asked, voice stuttering, breath catching in her throat. He didn't know why. He would never be able to answer her.
Dean Winchester
He was woken at three a.m. by a sudden increase in weight on his bed. "How pathetic. I send you two on a mission from God, and all you do is mope." Sam's ears perked up at the noise, and he jumped out of his bed. Dean sat up, and he pulled his blankets down quickly. "You're back." Sam breathed. Draco nodded, and stood up. Walking over the glass in shiny black shoes, he turned to them. "It appears as if we've failed." Dean sat up straighter, and Sam held his breath. "Failed what?" Dean demanded. Draco's smirk fell from his face, and he straightened his suit. "Well, there's been an incident." He admitted, and he cleared his throat. "Hermione was raped tonight." The pain they could hear in his voice nearly brought tears to Sam's eyes. "What?" Dean asked, rising from the bed. "What did you just say?" Draco couldn't bring himself to say it again. While he was on Earth, he could feel human emotions, and it nearly tore his heart out of his chest.
Sam jumped to his feet, but Dean was already throwing himself at Draco. "You let this happen to her!" He screamed as he swung at him. "You did this!" Draco's hair went into his eyes, and he sneered at Dean. "It's not like you've missed her at all. All the girls I've seen you with. You don't deserve her!" That only infuriated Dean even more, and Sam was pushed back onto the bed. He hit Draco, and he jumped on top of him. Draco didn't fight back, and Sam pulled Dean off of him. "Dean. Stop." He begged. Dean looked from his brother back to Draco. "Don't you understand, Dean? I didn't know this was going to happen! We were trying to prevent another dark lord from rising. Harry's powerful. Too powerful, and the only person that can stop him is your daughter!" Dean felt the blow of Draco's words hit him full on in the chest. He staggered backwards, and he clutched onto his heart. "Daughter?" He asked, weakly. Draco nodded to him, and he looked at Sam. "It's time. You must return to them. They need you now." He flashed his eyes at Dean. "Your daughter needs you now."