"Look at me. I came back from the furnace without any of my old scars, right? You know, bullet wounds, knife cuts. None of the off-Angled fingers from all the breaks.
I mean, my hide is as smooth as a baby's bottom. Which leads me to conclude. Sadly...That my virginity is intact."- Dean Winchester
"Please. Dean, maybe angels can pull you out of hell, but no one could do that." - Sam Winchester
(4x05: Monster Movie)
After an incredibly tense breakfast consisting of oatmeal, glares and curious glances directed at her, Hermione and Sam got on I-70 and started out of Denver. Not long into the ride, Sam vacantly apologized for his family's behavior but she shouldn't have expected anything less.
"I didn't, Sam. I'm well aware hunters aren't accepting or trusting, especially to outsiders. But feeding them lies about how you trust me with your life was a bit overkill."
"I do trust you, Hermione." He stared at her questioningly. "You're not going to shoot me in the back the moment I turn it, are you?"
Shrugging, Hermione sighed and rolled down the window a little to let some air circulate inside the car. The air-conditioning was working fine, but Sam had it on low so the vehicle wouldn't overheat. When they reached Utah and went south on I-15, it was just going to get hotter.
"Maybe I just feel bad because I don't trust you with my life," she responded honestly. "We honestly don't know each other that way."
"Outside of the biblical sense. Doesn't matter, I don't peg you the type to smother me in my sleep."
"Speaking of, Sam, you haven't slept at all. You're running on three coffees and a Lite and Fit Breakfast Special. Why don't you pull over and let me drive?"
"I trust you'd save my ass in a hunt. I don't trust you with my car. They drive on the wrong side of the road where you come from. What if you get confused?
Hermione glared out her window and five minutes later said, "You're family thinks we're sleeping together."
"I guess rubbing your back at the table gave it away, huh?" He grinned teasingly.
"We're not, Sam. We had our chance and blew it."
"I blew it." He fished a pair of sunglasses out of his shirt pocket and slipped them on. "I traded a cow for magic beans."
She punched him in the leg. "Mooooo!"
He cackled and pressed his foot on the gas, weaving in and out of traffic.
When they left Utah and breached the northern west tip of Arizona, the sun had gone down, leaving a light blue and pinkish tint on the horizon. Already Hermione could hear the alluring sounds of slot-machines, and the fact that she had no money laid heavy in her mind. She couldn't depend on Sam to keep feeding her and clothing her. Plus, the price of a Disneyland ticket was going to be killer.
"We should stop and rest in Vegas."
"If you're tired, just go to sleep."
"Sam," she said exasperatedly. "I'm not sleeping in the car again. I want a bed. A shower. I'm not going to be any use on the hunt if I can fall over from someone sneezing on me. I bet your family is going to stop there, too. Or even Mesquite."
"Fine, we'll stop in Vegas. We should probably eat, anyway."
"I also need money."
He smirked at her inquisitively. "You hustle?"
"I count," she admitted.
Sam nodded like he was impressed. "I can count, too. So can Dean. We never chanced it in a casino. You get caught, you get blacklisted. We can't afford to have our faces plastered anywhere since we're dead. We want to stay that way."
"You only get caught if you get greedy," Hermione replied.
They ended up bypassing Vegas and stopping in Primm. By then, there was a solid knot at the base of Hermione's spine, and she had to ooze out of the car instead of climb out like a respectable human being. Sam had stopped at Buffalo Bill's, and Hermione supposed the casino would be fine. She didn't need a lot of money, just enough to get her through the hunt. She could budget with five-hundred.
"Money first or room first?" asked Sam. "I'm thinking food first."
"If you could spare a twenty, I'll pay you back in a couple of hours. I need to buy my way in."
"Right." He pulled out his wallet and handed her a folded up twenty. "I'll get us a room and scrounge up some food."
As much as she preferred to have her own room, they were adults and this trip was not about luxury and comfort. It was close to midnight, she was running on fumes, and they had to be up early in the morning to reach Anaheim before Disneyland opened. While in Denver, everyone agreed that they'd each visit the employment office and try to get a job, with the exception of Sam and Samuel. The shifter was most likely a part of the staff. If any of them could get an in and sift through the hundreds of employees, it could help. Thankfully Sam had thought ahead and instructed Bobby to forge some fake paperwork for Hermione the previous night back in Sioux Falls.
Inside the casino, Hermione won a total of eight hundred dollars and purposely lost 250 of that. During her losing streak, Sam had found her and whispered in her ear what room they were staying in and then left. When she secured her $550, she cashed in and found the room and knocked on the door. A freshly showered Sam answered with only a towel wrapped around his waist. With much difficulty, she kept her eyes on his face and handed him a twenty and then brushed by him and into the room, frowning at the one king-size bed.
"That's nice of you," Sam drawled and closed the door behind her. "I hadn't even shown you the goods yet."
She turned to face him and then toed off her boots. "We are not having sex. You are going to get dressed, and we are going to go to sleep. You will keep yourself on your side, and I will do the same."
"If you say so."He yanked off his towel and padded over to the edge of the bed where his duffle bag was, taking his time to find a pair of boxers and two plain white t-shirts. He tossed her one. "I know you don't have anything to sleep in."
She changed in the bathroom and came to see Sam on his laptop at the table, reminding her she needed to buy one once she had the time and the resources. "Food's in the fridge," he said.
She was exhausted, but she needed to eat, so she opened up the mini fridge and pulled out a Denny's to-go box. Inside were a grilled chicken salad and a dinner roll with a side of lite dressing. Not something she would have chosen after a miniscule breakfast of oatmeal and twelve hours on the road, but the meal was a meal. She scarfed it down and pulled down the covers of the bed on the side closest to the door. Once she was curled up and about to pass out, she mumbled at Sam, "Go to sleep."
He looked like he was about to say something but didn't. Instead, he closed the computer and turned off the lamp and climbed into bed. When she awoke, it was to the smell of brewing coffee, and Sam was not on his side of the bed. She groggily turned over and saw the bathroom light on and the door open. He was hovering over the coffee machine and pouring some into a Styrofoam cup.
"Did I wake you?" he called.
"Yes."
"Good. We have to go. Drink this." He shuffled over to her with the cup, and she took it from him, sipping the scalding liquid. It was marginally better than that gas station coffee in Denver.
After finishing her drink, she scrambled out of bed, showered, and dressed. Within an hour, they were back on the road. They stopped for a fast-food breakfast in Barstow, and then didn't stop until they got to Anaheim. Since it was still quite early, having left Primm a little after five, they used the time to check into a hotel and get Hermione a respectable outfit for when she showed up at the employment office at Disneyland. She settled on a pair of black trousers and a light pink blouse. Her hair was up and she was ready to bluff her way through an interview if she got that far. She honestly hoped she didn't get a job offer, though. Working in a park like Disneyland was probably a lot like hell.
Hermione was offered a job after being redirected over to Casting. Mark was also offered a job, too, but in one of the gift shops. As for the others, they had to buy a one week pass while Sam and Samuel scoured the park under the pretense of being a part of the FBI. Funnily enough, she never saw any of them. Though Disneyland wasn't as large as Disney World, she never came across the other hunters. But that probably had more to do with her schedule than theirs. Her new employers told her she needed to be at a certain location and she better damned well be there five minutes early with a smile on her face.
All in all, it did take a full week to track down and pinpoint the shape-shifter, and she was the one to figure out who it was. Before she called Sam, she called Crowley and told him she'd be in Grapevine with the package in the thirty minutes. Five minutes before she was to be arriving in Texas, she was in an unused part of a tunnel under the manmade body of water under Sleeping Beauty's Castle, her yellow gloved fingers choking the life out of Cinderella. Some ten feet away, a six year old girl with blonde curls and blue eyes stared in fascinated horror.
Hermione wanted to stab the shape-shifter. She had a silver knife strapped to her garter belt aching to be plunged into the heart of this thing. There were decomposing bodies of little girl's down here. Despite all her hatred and disgust for this monster, her thoughts were drawn back to Junior.
Seething, she said, "I hope he tortures you," and then lowered her hands to grip the shifter's shoulders, Disapparating to the middle of the crossroads in Grapevine. The shifter fell onto the dirt and screamed, looking around in shock.
"How did you do that?"
Two men dressed in black appeared and both took an arm of the shifter. Hermione could feel the dark energy from them and knew they were demons. One of them drawled, "Crowley thanks you for your service, princess." The other then took out a cellphone from his leather jacket and tossed it to her.
"He said to use that whenever you need to make a delivery."
The two demons and the shifter disappeared, and Hermione needed to gather her bearings before Apparating back to the tunnel. God, that shifter was strong. Hermione rubbed gingerly over her ribcage before Disapparating. It had kicked her good there some twenty minutes ago.
The little girl was still in the tunnel but curled up into a ball, sobbing hysterically. When she noticed Hermione, she threw herself at her. Hermione carried her out of the tunnel and didn't have to walk far before running into two security officers. There were probably others rummaging through the park looking for her. Before the girl was handed off to the officers, she whispered in Hermione's ear, "I saw you disappear, but I won't tell anybody. I promise."
Hermione called Sam and told him that the shape-shifter was taken care of, lying and saying that she killed it and hid the corpse away in the tunnel where it wouldn't be found for a long time. He was in Mickey's Toontown with Samuel. She told him she was done and wasn't going to wait for him to find her.
"I'll see you back at the room," she yawned.
She fetched her belongings from her employee's locker and marched back into the park found a place where no one would notice her Disapparating. The moment she did, she was back in the hotel room using the dresser to keep her from falling over from sleep-depravation.
Sam walked in when she was toeing off her character shoes. He paused and simply stood there staring at her, mouth agape. "What?" she grumbled when pulling off her wig and dropping it to the floor. She yanked at the pins holding her hair up and let out a sigh of relief when feeling the curly tresses fall, her headache gone almost instantly. When she looked back at Sam, he was shirtless and he was fiddling with his belt like he couldn't get it off fast enough. He mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like Dean would be so jealous.
"You've got to be joking! There is no way-eeeeek!"
Sam threw her over his shoulder and then turned, dropping her on the bed. She bounced and groaned, her ribs aching. He hesitated at the sound of pain and asked, "Are you hurt?"
"My ribs are bit bruised, but I'm fine."
"Good," he said curtly and climbed over her.
Rolling her eyes, she gave him a small smile before scooting further up the bed, so her head rested on a pillow. He followed her, and she placed her gloved hands on his bare shoulders, squeezing them and then cupping his face. Her thumb traced his bottom lip, and he surprised her by latching his teeth onto the tip of the material. Smoothly, she slid her arm out of the glove and sleepily asked, "Are you my beast?"
"Ha," he chuckled throatily and grabbed the glove out of his mouth, tossing it aside.
Valentine's Day, the year before, Junior had left her flat in London because she hadn't loved him and because he thought there was a man waiting for her in the States. As she laid beneath Sam, she wondered if Junior hadn't been wrong. Was there a part deep down inside her that wanted Sam? Really wanted him? She didn't believe in casual intercourse, yet this would be her third time with him. They were hardly even hunting partners, and yet, she broke her own rule with him. What was it about Sam? Probably nothing but her own weakness. He was plenty handsome, but he certainly was not the prettiest boy ever.
Sam grinned down at her, flashing his dimples.
But very close, mind you.
He made her feel things, she supposed. Things she hadn't felt in a while. However, like with Junior, she did not love him. It probably wouldn't be hard to if she put forth some effort. He wasn't the most unlovable creature she'd ever come across.
Choosing to deepen her feelings for Sam would be hardly convenient at this time. She had Junior's soul to think about and monsters to hunt and deliver. Sam had his family and with the exception of Gwen, they all hated her.
"You know," Sam drawled, his lips brushing lightly against hers as he spoke, "you're thinking too hard. And very loudly."
"It's a side effect from being around you too long."
He chuckled and kissed her fully on the lips and pulled away slightly, settling his weight on his elbows. The kiss gave her tingles and butterflies and whatnot, sensations she had felt before with someone else long ago. But it hadn't been right then, either. Nevertheless, if she was going to do this with Sam, it needed to have some degree of propriety.
"Perhaps," she started and nipped his chin, "we can try again. For real this time."
"What are you talking about?"
"You clearly wanted something more between us over a year ago. Do you still? Or is it just sex with you?"
Sam moved back on his knees and she sat up. He blew out a puff of air and shrugged. "I'm not going to lie, I wanted you then. I want you now, but having a relationship would only complicate things. Hold us both down. Make us vulnerable. It was difficult enough hunting with my brother, and I didn't even like him most the time. I know I hunt better without him."
Frowning, she commented, "Yet you hunt with your family. You asked me to go with you."
"Samuel sniffed this hunt out. He asked me along for backup. I asked you because you were there at Bobby's and a fine hunter. Plus, I wanted to sleep with you again. You can't tell me you don't want it, too."
Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut. Did she just hear him correctly?
"I do want you, Sam," she admitted and crudely added with an eye roll, "You're a fine shag. But I'm not promiscuous. I try to avoid one night stands." She looked down at her lap, the pretty yellow material covering her legs. "In fact, I try to avoid any kind of relationship, but if this is going to be a reoccurring thing, I have to have ground rules."
"I hate ground rules."
"Do you want this?"
Sam narrowed his eyes, the corners of his lips turning downwards. It wasn't so much a pensive expression but a displeased one. "Things are different from when when we last talked and even more so than that Christmas. I'm different. I stand by what I said. We'll only hold each other back."
"Then get off me."
"Unless," Sam said icily, his pointer finger curled into a hook a rubbing her jawline with it. "You stay."
"Stay," she repeated uneasily. "Like stay with you and your family?"
"I won't always be with them. You're a lot younger than Samuel, therefore, a lot more useful. I don't trust Christian or Mark to have my back. As for Gwen, Samuel's making her rusty by excluding her from most hunts. Though I prefer to do the job alone, it may be beneficial at times to have a partner."
Hunting with Sam would put a strain on her deal with Crowley. She was able to slip one shape-shifter under his nose, but doing it repeatedly would be damned near impossible. And like him, she preferred to hunt alone.
It wasn't going to work, and she was confusing herself like always. She liked Sam and wanted him, but she couldn't have something proper with him. He knew that and was humoring her by requesting she join him on the road.
Having made a decision, she caressed his face and winced. "I can't. We're better by ourselves. You're right."
"I know," he said dispassionately. "So how do you want this? Personally, I want the dress on for a least the first two rounds. During at least one of those, I want you reading out of a book."
"No, Sam. When I said I can't…mmph!"
Sam had interwoven his fingers into her curls and used them as leverage in crushing her lips to his.
She absolutely despised this habit of his, catching her off guard by getting in her space and doing things that both scandalized and aroused her. What she hated more, though, was her utter lack of will power when it came to him. He'd simply kiss her or touch her the right way, and she was putty in his large hands. Perhaps he was part incubus. Dean was probably suffered the same anomaly, as well. They weren't particularly likeable men and cared for each other more than they liked anybody else in the entire world. All they had going for them were pretty faces and nice bums.
That car of Dean's wasn't too bad either.
So, yes, they both had to be half-siren or half-incubus.
She'd bet her new knickers it was their father who passed down that gene. That rough-faced, dimple-cheeked, sexist Yankee pig!
Hermione wrenched her face away and groaned loudly and lamentably up at the ceiling when he latched onto the space below her ear. "Saaaaaaam!"
"Yes?" he purred into her skin.
She yanked his hands out of her hair and put them over her breasts, and his mouth moved to her lips again before putting them on her collarbone while he messaged her through the bodice of the dress. "You make me very angry," she hissed.
"Good." He bunched up the skirt of her dress, exposing her stocking-clad legs. He lifted one of them up and rested it on his shoulder ran his fingers down the length of it, not hesitating to touch her over her panties. He nipped at her ankle and laughed. "They had these in your size?"
Biting her lip, she bucked against his finger. "Mmmhmm."
When two digits moved aside the cottony material and found Hermione's secret place, she stilled and so did Sam.
"Is that a…" Sam's forehead wrinkled and then nodded. "Yeah, I think so. Dean was right. It is possible. Huh. Who knew?" His fingers started moving in and out, and Hermione reached down and grabbed his wrist to stop him.
"This changes everything," she said.
"It's only a technicality. You're not really a virgin. You've just been re-hyminated is all."
Hermione stared at him.
He shrugged. "Dean's words. Not mine."
She was at a loss for words. One reason was because of what she now had…again. The other being about Sam's disrespectful, blasé attitude. God, men were such indelicate creatures! Next thing she knew he was going to be saying it was just a piece of membrane.
"It's just a piece of membrane," Sam said. "I'll be gentle, though. This is not the first one I've encountered."
Covering face, Hermione mumbled, "I believe you."
His thumb started fiddling with something interesting. "Look, it'll be fine. You're fine."
"Sam," her voice hitched, a jolt of pleasure hitting her womb.
"Shit, you're going to feel amazing. Hmm? What?"
"It's not happening. Not now at least." She let her leg down from his shoulder and wiggled away from him, smoothing down her skirt, watching in embarrassment as he sucked his fingers and glared at her.
"Everybody's doing it," he sarcastically griped and went to shove her heel into his gut but he caught her by the ankle and cruelly ran his thumb up her foot. With her other foot, she pushed him in the chest.
"I think I'm going to leave." She stole her foot back and climbed off the bed.
"What am I supposed to do about this?" Sam fell back onto the bed, his hair falling off the bottom edge. He gestured to his lap area.
Hermione was tempted to remedy the situation by her own methods but refused to give the notion any further thought. Sam, who was usually understanding and sweet, was acting like an adolescent arsehole.
"Whatever you please," she said and pulled some bills from a cheap Mickey Mouse wallet she bought at the nearby Target. She slapped them on the mattress beside his shoulder.
"I didn't perform," he said suggestively, poking at the money.
"It's for the boots and underwear," she replied and went to the dresser, pulling out a pair of jeans and a shirt. "I'll be gone in a few minutes."
After taking the dress off in the loo and donning more comfortable clothes, she stared at herself in the mirror and whispered, "I'm not giving it to him," and then washed her face, scrubbing off the thick layer of pancake makeup, blush, lipstick, mascara, and eyeliner. When she was done, her face felt raw and looked red from the scalding hot water. She cooled her skin with some cold and dabbed it dry with a towel before opening the door to see Sam sitting at the edge of the bed, his eyes trained on the enthusiastic couple on the telly. His hand was…well…
"You like Casa Erotica?" he asked.
"No." She averted her eyes, trying to block out the sounds of the telly as she collected the rest of her belongings. Unfortunately, the rest of her clothes were in the dresser the telly was perched on. She blocked the screen and fished out her clothes, having to bend over in front of Sam to do it.
"Just stay like that for thirty more seconds."
Gritting her teeth, Hermione slowly stood up and turned around to face Sam, murder etched on her face. He paused his ministrations and said, "If you're not going to, then move to the side."
She did, taking one single step before going over to the cheaply made chair next to the table by the window and threw it with all her might against the wall.
"What the hell?" Sam cursed.
She ignored him and hardly cared she put a huge hole in the plaster. She picked up one of the broken legs of the chair and swiveled around and stomped up to him, not even hesitating when swinging the piece of wood at Sam's head with all her might. The leg broke on impact, and the man collapsed on the mattress, his hand still wrapped around his manhood.
Samuel and Christian were in the next room and surely heard the ruckus. Sure enough, she heard pounding against the wall. They'd be coming over very soon. She'd be gone by then but was disappointed she wouldn't see their priceless faces when they stumbled upon Sam in his given state.
Dropping the makeshift weapon to the floor, Hermione stuffed her things into her Target bag and Apparated to Las Vegas. She wouldn't see Sam again until December.
A/N: So this chapter was awkward to write, so if it's an awkward read I'm sorry and you're not alone.
Also, Soulless! Sam is hard to write. :p I have to second guess everything I type and ask myself, "Would a soulless person say or do this?"