A/n: I don't own the characters. I'm pretty sure you all get it by now, but I still have to address it anyway.
Chapter title inspiration: Push- Matchbox Twenty
Chapter 10
Dean barely got much sleep that night. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Sammy falling into the cage. Whenever that happened, he'd sneak out of the bedroom to go downstairs for another glass of Bobby's scotch. A few times, he had been near to falling asleep, when the young witch having a nightmare startled him awake again. Every time though, he was there to comfort her back to sleep. He didn't get any form of real sleep until the sun was just barely cresting the horizon in the east.
When he woke up, goodness only knew how much later, after he'd fallen asleep finally, the first thing he noticed was the brightly sunlit room. Rolling onto his right side, the second thing he noticed was that Hermione wasn't in her twin sized bed. It was empty, and the covers were nicely and neatly in place. With a growl, he sat up pulling the covers away from him. He dressed quickly in his favorite, clean pair of jeans, a black fitted t-shirt, and a navy blue button up that he cuffed the sleeves to just below the elbow. As soon as he stepped into the hallway outside of the bedroom, the smell of coffee and food hit his nose. He followed the smell down the stairs to Bobby's little kitchen, where there was food piled on plates on the table, but no one there eating it.
Frowning, Dean turned and headed for the living room, where he found Bobby sitting in his usual spot with a book open in his lap, and Hermione looking comfortable on the couch with another book open. She appeared to be studying whatever was written in it intently. He cleared his throat, amused when both occupants startled.
"Well good morning sleepy head." Bobby teased from his chair. "Did you catch up on your beauty rest?"
"Because I haven't heard that one before." Dean quipped back before turning his attention to Hermione, who had closed her book, but not before holding her place with her index finger. "How long have you been awake?"
He noticed that her curls were wet, and hanging down a little way past her shoulders. She had dressed herself in a pair of jeans, and surprisingly, the plaid shirt he'd picked out for her the night before. Her face wasn't as pale as it had been, but the dark circles under her eyes were just as noticeable as ever. It belied the fact that she had slept just as crappy as he had.
"A couple of hours at most. Long enough to take a shower, and make breakfast for everyone. Go ahead and help yourself, Bobby and I already ate. I left the food out for you, figuring you'd be hungry when you woke up." Hermione told him with a gentle smile.
"It's good." Bobby commented, his nose buried in the book he'd been reading when Dean had first found them.
"Very well then." Dean replied making his way back into the kitchen.
He was just pouring himself a cup of coffee, when a floorboard creaking had him whipping around. Hermione had walked into the kitchen and was making for the sink immediately to his left.
"You didn't sleep well either?" Dean asked quietly.
"Not really. Kept having nightmares." Hermione told him just as quietly.
"I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you how long they'll last before they go away." Dean replied placing a hand on her shoulder.
"I hope they do someday. I'm going to need to be at my best." Hermione said slamming the tap water on.
"What's Bobby got you reading?" Dean asked steering the conversation away from the hard stuff. He pushed away from the counter in favor of actually eating real food.
"He's decided I need to learn about the supernatural. I'm reading about the different types of vengeful spirits there are in your world." Hermione replied. "It's rather fascinating because they're very different than the ghosts in my world."
"You've got ghosts?" Dean asked sternly, pointing a piece of toast in Hermione's direction which she saw.
"Stop pointing bread at me" Hermione scolded. "And yes we do. For the most part, friendly ones too. Some of them are a little on the grumpy side, but not homicidal."
"Interesting. Could it be the magic that ran in their blood preventing them from becoming a vengeful spirit?" Dean wondered out loud.
"I suppose it's possible." Hermione replied, turning to scrub a plate she'd been holding. "I suppose that's a theory. Bobby says once I've learned about your vengeful spirits, I can move onto demons."
"Because that's what you want in your head." Dean muttered around the lip of his coffee mug.
"Dean Winchester, I'm fully capable of taking care of myself when I know what I'm up against. I'm sure I can handle demons after what I've been through." Hermione replied sternly, soapy hands on her hips and all.
Dean took in her fiery response, his eyes wide. The hands on her hips though nearly had him snorting in laughter. "I'm not doubting your ability to handle yourself." Dean replied, holding his hands up in a sign of surrender.
"So what are you implying?" She asked, no less heat in her voice.
"That I don't want that shit in my head, and I've been on the front lines of this since I was 4 years old." Dean started. "It's not something anyone should have in their heads."
"I know it's dark, and its serious crap, but I have to know what I could be up against at some point. Let's face it, I'm living with hunters while I find my way back home. Who knows what could come knocking while I'm here. That, and your angel friend said that Voldemort could be recruiting some of this stuff for whatever large scale attack he has planned." Hermione ranted. "If I don't learn here, I can't defend myself or my friends."
"I get it. You don't have to explain yourself to me." Dean replied.
Hermione gave him a nod, before turning back to the soapy water she was using to wash what breakfast dishes she could do, before Dean finished his breakfast and added to the pile. At that moment, Bobby stuck his head into the kitchen, and indicated with a thumb he wanted to see Dean alone, outside. Dropping his toast on the plate in front of him, Dean followed the older hunter, coffee cup in hand. The older hunter led him out to the yard where the Impala was parked.
"What's up Bobby?" Dean asked lowly.
"We gotta train her up Dean. She's right, she needs to know what she's up against, and how to defend herself. It would be cruel of us to keep her in the dark." Bobby said.
"So you have her reading lore books?" Dean asked leaning against his beloved Impala.
"She came down after a shower looking for something to do. She said last night she was the researcher for her group, so I asked her if she'd like to read up on some lore to start, and she's really taking to it." Bobby explained.
"The lore books only teach you so much." Dean contemplated out loud, more to himself than to Bobby.
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about, idjit. Field training: weapons, hand to hand, that sort of stuff." Replied the older hunter before sticking his hands in his back pockets.
"I suppose, what about finding her a way back home?" Dean asked. He remembered the conversation where she'd specifically expressed how important it was she return to England as soon as she could.
"That's what I've been doing all morning. I'm working my way through every lore book I have about her kind of witch, which is all of one. I'll put some feelers out to find one of those low level hunters in England. Find out what they know." Bobby told him.
"I guess that's the best we can do for now." Dean replied.
"Yep, when she's done with the lore book she's reading, I'll send her your way to go over practical vengeful spirit training." Bobby said over his shoulder as he walked back towards the front door of his house.
Dean sighed and made his way to the trunk. Opening it, he propped the lid to his arsenal. He pulled the salt, a number of already packed salt rounds, and a sawed off shotgun. He made his way to Bobby's shed, where he pulled a can of gasoline, then took everything out to a clear area of the salvage yard. For the next hour, he set up a fake grave, and targets for Hermione to shoot at.
He was just about to go into the house to see where Bobby and Hermione were at with the lore books, when both of them came walking out of the house. He walked toward them, noting that Hermione's now dry hair, was in a ponytail that swayed delightfully side to side as she walked. A jolt of attraction worked its way through Dean just watching her, which made him push it down so that he could concentrate. It wouldn't do much good for anybody if he was too distracted to teach Hermione how to hunt vengeful spirits properly. He jogged the remaining steps to the mismatched duo.
"Hermione, I'm leaving you to the devices of this idjit here. He'll train you to hunt these things practically. There's only so much the lore alone can teach you." Bobby explained.
"I appreciate the training." Hermione told the hunters, thankfulness coloring her tone.
"Well, sweetheart, it's like you told me in the kitchen. You need to know this stuff." Dean replied, gesturing her to walk ahead of him with a wave of his arm.
She moved around him to walk, and her scent hit Dean full force. The sweet smell of flowers was a change to what he was used to as a hunter. It was infinitely a more pleasant smell than the interior of the Impala after Sam had eaten even one bite of Mexican food. Dean found himself subconsciously putting a hand on the middle of her back to guide her to where he'd set up her first lesson. The bang of a screen door in the distance let Dean know that Bobby had gone back inside the house to continue his own research.
When he got her back to where he'd set up shop, she leaned against one of the wrecked cars nearby, her arms crossed.
"Okay, let's pretend we're on a hunt, how do we know it's a vengeful spirit?" Dean asked directly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
"Vengeful spirits often haunt the place where they died, an object they were attached to, or where any remaining DNA of theirs is. There's always a detectable pattern to their kills, for example, the painting that was bought by people who were murdered by having their throats slit. Each victim had purchased the painting, then were found dead shortly after. The girl who was killing the victims, haunted the painting." Hermione explained.
"Where'd you hear about that case?" Dean asked her flabbergasted.
"Bobby told me. Says he read about it in a series of books called 'Supernatural.'" Hermione explained.
"Son of a bitch." Groaned Dean, thinking about the books that detailed everything about him, Sam, and their jobs, to the general public. "So how do you get rid of a vengeful spirit once you've identified that you're hunting one?"
"The most common form of getting rid of a vengeful spirit is using salt and gasoline to burn the bones, however, any remaining form of DNA will work too." Hermione recited.
"What's a spirit's weakness?" Dean asked, impressed with how much she'd picked up in a matter of hours.
"Salt and iron." Hermione replied quickly.
"Alright, moving on." Dean said grabbing the shovel nearby. "To get to the bones in order to salt and burn them, sometimes means digging them up from the cemetery."
Dean handed her the shovel. "So I get to dig up the bones?" Hermione asked cocking an eyebrow at him.
"Yes, I didn't bury them deep, just enough to make you have to work for it. We'll get to the next step after that." Dean replied, indicating the spot where he'd buried a crudely made dummy.
Hermione decided she needed to prove to the hunter that she could do this. That she was actually stronger than she looked. The sun burned above them making the day warm, but not too hot. Instead of waiting until she was all sweaty, she pulled at the sleeves of her top until she was pulling it over her head, leaving her in a plain white camisole. She then went to grab the shovel from Dean's hand, but not before she watched his eyes take in the change in her clothing with a healthy dose of appreciation soaking his brilliant, green eyes. With a last smirk in his direction, she pushed the shovel into the earth, kicking it in with her foot, then pulling away the pile to set what she'd moved aside.
Dean watched Hermione, appreciating the effort she was giving the job. Or at least that was what he was telling himself. His mind refused to acknowledge that it might have had more to do with the way she looked in a form hugging top, that was lower cut than he would have ever pegged her for wearing. She worked hard, and was soon moving the last of the dirt to expose his dummy. She raised her brown eyes to him and waited.
"Now, this is where it can get difficult. Spirits aren't about to let you kill them, they usually start attacking right about now. The best way to deal with this is to have a partner who has your back. A simple ring of salt won't help you here because of weather, and you have to stay as focused as you can to get the job done." Dean explained.
"So how does a partner help keep the spirit from attacking so the salting and burning gets done?" Hermione asked.
"This." Dean replied holding up the sawed off.
"Dean, you can't shoot the spirits. It's not going to do anything." Hermione said rolling her eyes.
"Okay smart ass, get out of that hole and I'll show you." Dean said shooting a smirk in her direction.
Hermione stepped out of the shallow hole in the ground, and made her way to Dean's side. He was standing next to one heck of a beat up car, the shotgun prepped for loading. He picked up a bright red shell and handed it to her.
"It's packed with salt instead of a regular round. It won't kill a spirit, but it'll deter them for a little while. It should hopefully buy you, or whoever you're working with some time." Dean explained. While he talked, he loaded 2 salt rounds into the shotgun and closed it with a click.
"You do realize I've never shot a gun in my life?" Hermione asked him, her eyes going wide at the sound of the shotgun clicking into place.
"Well that's about to change sweetheart." Dean replied stepping in front of her head on. "Are you right or left hand dominant?"
"I write with my right hand." Hermione told him slightly confused.
"So you're right hand dominant." Dean told her, grabbing her right hand and bringing it out to the gun.
He wrapped her right hand around the base of the gun, then let her take the weight so she could initially get the feel of it.
"It's heavier than it looks." Hermione commented after feeling the pull from the weight in her shoulder.
"Yes, it is. When you position it, the base will go into your right shoulder, and you'll support the barrel with your left hand." Dean said.
"Like this?" Hermione asked, pulling the base into her shoulder, using her left hand on the barrel.
"Yes, but keep that damn barrel pointed at the ground before you give me a heart attack." Dean replied after seeing the barrel swing unchecked in the air as she slid the gun where he'd told her to.
Hermione blushed in embarrassment. She was used to getting things right the first time she tried.
Dean swallowed hard before moving behind her. He knew it needed to be done, but this would be the closest he'd physically been to Hermione, and she was already affecting him. Moving behind her, he realized just how short she really was next to him. Her head barely reached the top of his shoulder. Pushing the information to the back of his mind, he brought his arms around so his hands could help manipulate the movements of the gun.
Hermione nearly jumped at the warmth of Dean's arms as they brushed against hers. His hard chest pressed lightly against her back, and she fought the urge to push herself back against him. He pushed the base of the gun more firmly into her with his right hand and with his left aimed the barrel at the ground well in front of her feet so any shot wouldn't hurt either of them.
"Okay," Dean started, his breath rustling the fine hairs around Hermione's ear. "Your right hand is your trigger hand. Your right index finger will be the trigger finger." He moved her hand so it was positioned where it needed to be, her finger resting along the side of the barrel base. "Never rest your finger on the trigger unless you're getting ready to shoot."
Hermione nodded minutely to indicate she'd heard him, and understood the instruction given to her. Dean swallowed hard again before continuing his instructions.
"Your left hand will control the barrel of the gun. You will need to hold it tight and steady. This thing will kick when you fire, and you have to keep it aimed through the kick." Dean told her while placing her hand where it should be on the gun. When he was satisfied her hands on the gun were correct, he pulled away to check her stance.
"Before you shoot, your stance has to be correct as well. Your feet should be shoulder width apart, with your left foot slightly in front of your right. Bend your knees slightly and lean the rest of your body ever so slightly over the left leg. This helps counteract the kick so you don't fall over, and make it easier for you to change target direction if you have to." Dean explained, watching her as she worked her legs and body into the positions he directed. Everything looked right, and he was sure he wouldn't need to help make adjustments there.
He moved behind her once again, but didn't move his arms over hers again. "Now it's time to learn how to aim. Rule number one: it doesn't matter whether it's a shotgun, or a handgun, or whatever, you never aim it unless your intention is to shoot. Whether you ultimately do or not, depends on the situation, but you never aim a gun without initial intention." Dean told her, his voice steady, professional. "When you aim, keep both eyes open, you'll know better where you're aiming. Bring the barrel up, and aim it at the windshield of the blue car over there."
Hermione looked forward spotting a blue SUV a couple of rows away, the front of the car facing her direction. Slowly and carefully, she brought the barrel of the shotgun upwards in the general direction of the car he'd told her to shoot. "Where do I look to aim?" Hermione asked turning her head in his direction to look at him.
"Lean your head to the side and look straight down the barrel. Remember to keep both eyes open." Dean told her. He watched her careful movements just to make sure she was still in the correct stance, with her hold on the gun rock solid.
"Okay." She replied doing exactly as he'd instructed her. She used both eyes down the barrel of the shotgun to make sure it was pointed directly at the center of her target.
"Now, before you can shoot, you have to cock the gun. It sets the firing pin inside the gun so that when you pull the trigger, it sends the round, or in this case the salt, out of the barrel." Dean explained.
"Exactly how do I do that?" Questioned Hermione frowning.
Dean moved back in close to Hermione's back and reached around her once again, his left hand taking Hermione's and moving it to the slide underneath the barrel. Instead of simply instructing her further, he helped her cock the gun, and moved his hand with hers back to the barrel. He pressed her right finger gently into the trigger, but not enough to fire the gun. Moving his head so his mouth was at her ear, Dean took a deep, steady inhale, making sure he felt Hermione do the same. As soon as he felt her exhale, he pulled their index fingers together on the trigger.