I'm back! Hope everyone had a good holiday! I certainly did, until my laptop died the day after Christmas. I would have updated sooner, if it weren't for that snag. But I'm back! And here is the next chapter, which has probably my favorite scene in the fic to date. In fact, it's the one that inspired the title of the fic. So without further ado, here's the next chapter, edited by trinastar818
"We should have researched before driving all the way down here," Hermione said.
The three of them had finished their meal and driven down to the local cemetery. It took a little while, but they were able to finally find the grave of Fred Jones. Or the wall vault to be more specific.
"Yeah, we really should have," Sam said, staring at the little block with Fred Jones' name engraved on it.
"So, what do you do if the body has already been burned?" Hermione asked.
"Step 2," Dean answered. "So much for an open and shut case."
"So, do we look for the object at Fred's or Charles' place?" Hermione asked, as they headed back to the Impala.
"Well, now we get to go question people who knew Fred and see if there was something significant of his, something that meant a lot to him that his spirit could have tied to. And then we go to Charles' and look for it, because if he's tied to the object, then he can't go anywhere without that object, so it's somewhere in Charles' house," Sam explained.
"But we have no way of knowing what it is, without talking to people, otherwise it's just a needle in the haystack ordeal," Dean finished.
"So, we're at a standstill until tomorrow," Hermione said.
"Yeah, we'll need to just go back to the motel and get some sleep; we can start questioning Fred's family and friends tomorrow."
The drive back to the motel was silent, everyone pondering over what they'd learned during the day; particularly about the decision they were going to have to eventually make about the Mark and its removal. When they got back to the hotel, they took turns changing in the tiny bathroom before Sam and Hermione took the beds and Dean arranged the chairs into a makeshift bed for himself. They were out in minutes.
"No!" Hermione screamed into the dark and silent motel room.
Dean and Sam sat up with a start, the latter flipping on the bedside lamp, illuminating the room. The brothers looked at each other before looking over at the witch. She was still sleeping, thrashing around in her bed.
"No, please, it's a fake!" she screamed out again.
Dean got up off of his chair bed and rushed over to Hermione's side. "Should we wake her?"
"Yeah, probably," Sam said, still sitting in his bed.
Dean reached over and gently shook her, "Hermione?" he said quietly.
She sprung up in the bed, wide awake, gasping, looking frantically around the room, tears openly falling down her face.
"Hey, you're okay," Dean said, quietly next to her. "It was just a dream."
Hermione brought her hands to her face, still shaking. Dean looked over his shoulder at Sam, who just gave him a small nod. He moved so that he was beside Hermione in the bed, and put her arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to him. She melted into his side and began to sob in earnest. Dean just sat there, rubbing her arm gently, trying to bring her some sort of comfort.
Sam stood up and grabbed his shirt from where he had thrown it on the floor before he grabbed a chair, dragging it closer to Hermione's bed.
After a few minutes her sobs subsided and she sat up, wiping her eyes with her hands, and pulling away from Dean. "I'm so sorry you guys," she said, with shuddering breaths.
"You don't have to apologize. We all get nightmares," Dean said.
"It's been a while since I've had that particular one," she said quietly. "I think all the talk about murder and spirits and darkness has drug up some things that are still with me after all these years."
"You get these nightmares often?" Sam asked.
"After the war, every night. But Ron and I worked through a lot of it, and I saw a Muggle therapist, so I thought I was doing really well. The nightmares subsided and then I only got them once a month or so. They were part of the stress on my marriage. Ron felt that he wasn't doing a good enough job at taking care of me if I still dreamt of that time in the manor; he always blamed himself for not fighting back more, for not saving me. After the divorce and my move, the nightmares only show up every once in a while and usually when I'm under a lot of stress. I'm surprised they waited this long to come back."
"What are they about?" Dean asked. "Would it help if you talked about it?"
"The manor," Sam said. "It's your torture, isn't it? From the war?"
Hermione nodded. She picked up her wand from the bedside table and waved it over her arm. A deep purple scar appeared on her left arm. She held it up for the brothers to see the word carved there.
"Mudblood," Dean said. "What does that mean?"
"Dirty blood," Hermione said. "During the war we were captured and taken to the headquarters of the Dark Lord. I was carrying an artifact that carried much significance to the war effort and one that a pureblood witch who worked for the Dark Lord had been tasked in protecting. She kept me behind and sent the boys to the dungeons. She tortured me. Used some spells on me, the ones that left me with the inability to have children, and when I still wouldn't talk, she pulled out a cursed blade and carved this into my arm. Forever marking me as the lesser being that I am."
Sam stood up from his chair, and grabbed his coat from the chair, and the keys to the Impala.
"Where are you going?" Dean asked.
"I'm angry, and I know that this whole thing was in the past, but I'm still angry, and I need to go for a drive to cool down. I'll be back in a little bit. With beer." He didn't wait for a response, he stormed through the door, slamming it behind him.
Dean shook his head and turned to Hermione. She was still visibly upset.
"I didn't mean to make him upset. I thought he knew. He read the book," she said quietly.
"Yeah, I don't think he's upset about the scars or the nightmares, I think he's more upset about other things," he said, gesturing between the two of them.
Hermione sighed, running her hands through her hair, tangling it up a bit more than it already was. "This whole situation is fucked up."
"Yes, it is. And that's okay. You don't need to be worrying about any of that. The important thing right now is that you're going to be alright."
Hermione nodded. "I'll be fine. Like I said, it was a long time ago. And I guess dealing with trying to remove your mark reminded me of my own, and that's finally drudged up the nightmares I thought were long gone."
"Can I see it again? If you don't mind?"
Hermione reluctantly brought her arm down, and straightened it out. Dean reached over, softly brushing his fingers over the raised purple letters carved there.
"It doesn't look like it healed very well," Dean said quietly.
"A cursed blade was used, so that's the best it could do. I have a scar across my chest from a curse that was cast on me in my fifth year, and since it was Dark Magic, it's also healed about as well as this."
Dean continued moving his fingers over the scar. "How come we've never seen this in all the time we've been working with you? You've worn short sleeves a lot, but I've never noticed this. And this is something that is not easily missed."
"Glamour charm," Hermione said. "I keep it hidden. I almost never go without it."
Dean shifted and stretched his arm out next to hers so that they were touching and both of their forearms were showing. "I wish you had told me sooner. We're practically twins."
Hermione smiled. "Yeah, but I think yours looks a little bit cooler."
"Yeah, I mean you just have letters, I have this cool symbol."
Hermione ran her fingers softly over Dean's mark. He shivered at the touch.
"They do have one thing in common. They were both touched with Dark Magic."
Dean closed his eyes, as Hermione kept her hand softly over the Mark. "Look at that, Glinda, we finally have something common."
"I guess we do," she whispered next to him.
Dean opened his eyes, and found himself gazing into the soft brown eyes of Hermione looking up at him. He fought his instincts for a split second before saying a silent apology to Sam, and capturing Hermione's lips with his own.
Hermione gasped, and Dean took advantage and deepened the kiss. This time Hermione didn't even resist. She returned the kiss feverishly, wrapping her arms around Dean's neck, pulling herself as close to him as possible. Dean wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her tight, his hands caressing her back. He brought his hands down to her ass, gripping it. Hermione let out a moan, encouraging him to pull her until she moved to straddle his waist. His cock, which was at full attention, got even more excited to feel the warmth of her core as it settled against him. He pressed against her and even through his jeans, he could feel just how aroused he was making her through this make out session.
Dean shifted his hips, pressing into her. Hermione gasped and then moaned before pressing back. The two settled quickly into a slow, steady rhythm, moaning through their kisses. Dean brought one hand up, cupping Hermione's breast through the shirt she was wearing. He massaged and pinched, relishing in the sounds that Hermione was making. He couldn't stand it much longer, but he knew Sam could be back any moment, so full on fucking was not an option. He moved his hands down to her hips and began pulling her against him more frantically, moving his lips down the side of her neck, sucking on her pressure point. Hermione began moaning louder, and bucking more erratically against him. He was close, but he wanted to make sure she got off first, so he moved one of his hands off her hip and to the front of her shorts before pushing inside and finding her clit and giving it a couple good rubs.
"Oh, God, Dean," Hermione called out as she came. Dean brought his fingers to his mouth tasting her, and after a couple more bucks of his hips he, too, came in his pants.
The two sat together, not moving, breathing heavily. Dean brought his hands up to Hermione's face, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. He pressed a gentle kiss onto her lips, which she returned.
"Dean?" she said, after they pulled back.
"Yeah?" he said.
"We can't let Sam find out anything about this."
"I agree. I totally agree."
So, what'd you think? Now that I have a working computer, I'm going to go back to updating once a week. I'm slowly running out of pre-written chapters, so I'm also going to get back to writing. This is going to be a longer fic than I'm used to writing. So settle in for a the long haul :)