Jo's funeral was somber and depressing. Once her body had been released from the morgue, they'd brought her back to the charred remains of the Roadhouse, the bar that had been her home for so many years. People came from all over America, much to Dean's surprise, hunters from all walks of life who'd known Jo. They formed a silent mass of people, young and old, who watched as Ellen lit the pyre and stood in a silent vigil until the fire burnt down to embers. Then, one by one, they stepped up to the lone mother and touched her shoulder, before they turned to leave. Eventually it was just the Winchesters, Hermione and Bobby, standing in the night.
"Ellen..." Bobby wheeled himself forward until he was by her side.
Ellen didn't respond. She'd barely spoken since the announcement had been made in that waiting room and Bobby sighed.
"Listen to me...You can't just stop. Jo wouldn't have..."
"Don't you tell me what my daughter would've wanted, Singer. Don't you dare!" Ellen snarled.
Bobby winced and settled back into his chair, content to wait the woman out.
They stood there until sunrise the next morning, the bright sunlight breaking through the the grey clouds. Without a word, Ellen spun on her heel and marched over to Bobby's car, slipping into the driver's seat. Dean sighed.
"Now what?"
Bobby shrugged.
"I'm gonna take her back to my house. She ain't go nowhere else to go an' she's in no state to hunt right now."
Sam eyed the pile of cinders with something close to despondency.
"What about us?"
Hermione looked to Dean, who frowned.
"Since when was I in charge?" He barked.
"Uh, since always?" his brother offered, finally turning towards them. Sam slung an arm across Hermione;s shoulders and she glanced up at him, pale and silent. "We need to..."
"Stop." Hermione whispered. "Just stop."
They stared at her.
"What?" Dean demanded.
"Go find a motel..." Hermione coughed, scrubbing dried tears from her face. "Just hole up for a bit. Bobby will take care of Ellen. I need to go to work for a while but...What can we do right now, Dean? Really?"
Dean winced.
"Call me?" He ordered, but it came out as more as a plea than anything else.
Hermione nodded, brown eyes worryingly empty.
"As soon as I'm finished." She hugged them all, before she turned towards the car. Dean frowned as she bent down to talk to Ellen through the open window.
"How does she do it?"
"What?"
Dean sighed.
"Go back to be normal. Going to work. Hell, she has a boyfriend and a family back home." He looked at them confused. "Why does she even bother coming here and helping us?"
Sam offered him a weak smile.
"Because, for some weird ass reason, she cares about us."
"She's not the only one." Bobby added, darkly. "You boys take care now, ya hear me?"
"Yeah, Bobby."
Hermione vanished a few seconds later.
"Ellen?"
The dark haired woman didn't look up, just flexed her fingers on the steering wheel.
"I'm sorry." Hermione whispered. "Really...I am."
"You should be."
Hermione flinched.
"It's your damn fault she's dead." Ellen turned to face her, eyes blazing. "What? That magic o' yours couldn't save her properly?"
"There are limitations...I did what I could..."
"I don't give a crap. You should have saved her!"
Hermione backed away, nodding.
"I know." She murmured. "That's why I'm sorry."
The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was in turmoil. Loud hiccuping sobs came from one of the corner offices, the silencing charms having failed three minutes hence.
"Somebody get Auror Potter." Bullwinkle bellowed. "NOW!"
Several lower ranking officials scurried off. A few minutes later, Harry rounded the corner at such speed that he slid in the wall before correcting himself and sprinting the rest of the way.
"Where is she...?"
"Auror Potter!"
Harry glared at the Head of Department, the distant crash from behind him telling him Ron had arrived.
"Where is she?" He repeated, glaring at the older man. Bullwinkle, evidently unprepared to face the full strength of the Chosen One, backed down.
"In the corner office. We couldn't move her." He explained and Harry pushed past him.
Hermione's office was a state. Paper's covered every surface in tall towering piles that were a far cry from the organisation she'd once boasted at Hogwarts. Harry paused in the doorway, letting Ron go first. Hermione was crumpled in a corner, hands a blistered, bloody mess that was entirely too familiar. Tears tracked down her face and almost hid how utterly exhausted she looked.
"Bloody hell, Hermione!" Ron said tactlessly and Harry winced.
"Hey."
She glanced up at them and he could see that the pain in her eyes went much deeper than the injuries on her hands.
"Bubotuber pus?" He asked briskly, stepping across the large pools of it on the ground which hissed malevolently. Hermione nodded, allowing Ron to tug her up.
"I should have screened my mail." She mumbled, tears still leaking from her eyes. "I was just distracted and..."
Ron ducked under one arm and Harry the other and between them they began to walk Hermione from her office. The damage was much more severe than it had been in their fourth year, the acidic liquid having burnt holes in her robes across her torso and calves, and Hermione whimpered with every step.
"This is much stronger than it should have been." Harry murmured to Ron. Ron nodded, glancing back at the office.
"We'll never find out who the letter was from either. Did it have a return address?"
"Ron!" Harry snapped, but Hermione answered anyway.
"No. It didn't."
Together they maneuvered her into the lift and Ron pressed the button for the Healers station on floor three.
"Are you okay?" Harry asked quietly.
Hermione didn't respond, tears still dropping silently onto the floor.
The two wizards exchanged worried glances over her head and waited for the doors to open. The Healers had been expecting them because no sooner than the grill had pulled apart, at least three sets of hands reached in and pulled her away from them.
"Is she going to be all right?" Ron asked one of the closer Healers.
A Healer, Braithweight according to his tag, shrugged.
"She won't die." He provided helpfully, before rushing off to fetch potions.
Sighing, Harry turned back to Ron.
"Go up to her office, see what evidence you can gather. Get Creevey to give you a hand." Ron glanced back at Hermione, who'd been settled onto a hospital bed as two healers efficiently set to work on her hands. "I'll stay with her. I want these bastards caught." The red head nodded and stormed off, clearly just as upset as Harry.
He waited until the Healer's gave him the all clear and took down the privacy screens before he approached the witch.
"Here." He held out her bag. "One of your secretary's brought it down. Bullwinkle said to take the rest of the day off.
Hermione snorted and stared at him with bleary exhausted eyes.
"How's the garden going?" She asked suddenly.
"It's fine."
"And Ginny? How's she?"
"She's all right. Got through the preliminary trials for the Holyhead Harpies."
Hermione made a vague sound of approval as a glint of silver caught his eye.
"What's that, Hermione?"
She blinked at him, dazed and he held up the long blade.
"That's Simiel. Gimmie."
Reluctantly he handed the knife over, noting the way she relaxed once it was tucked against her side.
"She's dead." Hermione said without warning.
"Who is?" Harry eyed the potions on the bedside table. "How much pain relief did they give you?"
Hermione shrugged.
"My friend. We burned her this morning and she's dead and it's my fault. I should have...done something." She picked at the hem of her hospital robe, "Ellen was right."
"Hermione, what are you talking about?" Harry asked, alarmed. He'd never seen his friend look so defeated.
"It doesn't matter now. Where's Ron?"
"Collecting evidence." Harry eyed her warily as she pushed herself up, grimacing. "Where are you going?"
"Home." Hermione yawned. "I've been sent home, remember and it's only..." She checked the large mechanical clock on the wall. "Ten o clock in the morning. I've gotten no work done and I won't until these are healed." Her hands were heavily bandaged so she held her bag between her forearm and her body.
"Just give me a minute and I'll come with you."
Hermione nodded agreeably and Harry left to let his superiors know what was happening. When he returned he was faced with an empty ward and several bored Healers.
"Where did she go?" He demanded.
"Home." Breithwieght shrugged, apparently unconcerned. "Someone in tan robes escorted her out."
"What about her release papers?"
The pale green documents were shoved at him carelessly and he scanned them quickly for a signature. Per regulations no one under the effect of potions could sign themselves out of medical care. It stopped a lot of foolish people trying to apparate home.
Harry frowned, heading for the lift.
He had no idea who Castiel Winchester was, but he was damned if he didn't find out.
Castiel dropped her in the dark motel room without a word and Hermione collapsed onto the first bed she found, uncaring of which brother she was disturbing. Sam, as it turned out, stirred enough to mumble something under his breath before he adjusted, resting one hand on her back. An uneasy smile on her face, Hermione soon fell asleep.
"'Mione."
Hermione opened her eyes and stared in confusion at the hunter.
"Dean?"
"You wanna tell me what the hell happened to you?" Dean yelled, looking furious.
She frowned and tried to rub her eyes. When the skin of her face met the heavy bandages on her hands she stopped and frowned.
"Ah."
"Ah?" Sam yelped from where he was sitting on the table. "You're covered in bandages!"
"What happened?" Dean demanded in the tone of voice that told him he was really asking for the names and addresses of those he had to kill.
"It's nothing. Just a little hate mail."
They froze.
"Hate mail?" Sam questioned. "Why would someone send you hate mail?"
"I'm very unpopular." She said dryly.
"What, and your hate mail usually explodes?"
"Not recently." Hermione murmured.
Dean clenched his jaw.
"Cas, get your ass down here!" He snapped.
"Be nice to Castiel." She chided.
Castiel appeared in time to hear Dean shout,
"He's a freakin' celestial being, Hermione, not some two year old! Heal her!" He added turning to the angel.
"Dean!" Hermione snapped before she softened her tone as she turned back to Castiel. "I'm fine, Cas. You don't have to worry..." she trailed off as the angel reached out with one hand and rested his fingers on her forehead. "Thanks." She murmured.
Sam settled by her side to begin unwinding the bandages, which were stained and bloody.
"What was this stuff?"
"Bubot...Acid." Hermione explained, eyeing Dean. The older Winchester had settled in the corner of the room and was watching the two of them with dark, brooding eyes. "Stronger than usual, I think they cursed it."
"And you just opened it?"
"I was distracted." She whispered and an unhappy silence settled in the motel room, broken only by the sounds of Sam unwinding bandages.
"You're supposed to be safe there." Dean said suddenly. Sam shot him a sharp look, a frown on his face.
"I've been in danger back in England a lot longer than I have here." Hermione told him. Dean sighed. "I'm not Sam, Dean. I don't fall under the same clause of your protectiveness that he does."
"Don't you?" He snapped, getting up from his chair and heading for the door.
"Dean..." Hermione pleaded but he slammed the door behind him. She turned to Sam and Castiel, confused. "What did I do?"
Sam rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded like "oblivious." under his breath.
"You know what Dean's like. Can't stand to see anyone he cares about hurt." Sam chucked the soiled bandages in the bin. "You okay getting the rest yourself?"
Hermione nodded.
"Yes, but that applies to you. Not me."
"Dean cares about you, 'Mione." Sam grimaced. "He's just rubbish at showing it."
Over the next few weeks they settled back into an uneasy routine. Whoever had sent that letter went uncaught, much to Harry's displeasure and Hermione spent as much time at her parents house hiding from her friends as she could. Harry's relentless hounding to know who Castiel was had become almost impossible to ignore and she received more than one suspicious look from the Weasley's she'd seen recently. The rest of her life was occupied with the Winchesters. Ellen was...well better wasn't the word, but not worse didn't really work either. Sam and Dean went back to taking regular hunts and Hermione helped as best she could. The awkwardness between her and Dean hasn't dissipated and the Impala had been full of one too many awkward silences recently.
"Granger."
Sam and Dean frowned as Hermione listened to whoever it was who had called her. There were on a case in Indiana, a fairly regular salt and burn involving the ghost of an elderly school teacher who'd been taking revenge on her old students.
"No..." She whispered, almost pleading. "Please..." A tear was making it's way down her face, digging a track through the grave dirt. Dean grabbed her elbow as she started to sway on the spot. "No...no..."
"Sam..." Dean ordered. His younger brother nodded, carefully lifting the phone out of Hermione's loose grasp as Dean turned her so he could hug her to his chest.
"Miss Granger?" A voice asked.
Sam winced,
"This is Sam Winchester. What's happened?"
"Is Miss Granger okay?" The voice demanded in an English accent.
Sam took a steady look at the witch who seemed to have crumpled in on herself. Dean appeared to be the only thing holding her up.
"Not really." He murmured.
There was a long sigh.
"Right. Well, she's just had some bad news. If you could get her home as soon as possible we would appreciate it. Do not let her apparate in this state."
The wizard hung up.
"Hermione?" Dean asked, surprisingly gently. "What happened?"
She lifted her head and stared at them, grief etched onto her face.
"That was the Auror on duty. They were called to my..." She choked slightly. "..my home when my wards broke. They got there too late. My parents..." Sam and Dean exchanged a horrified look as Hermione sobbed. "They killed them. They want to know if...I was in contact with any Death Eaters recently."
"But..."
"I need to go." She whispered hoarsely. "Castiel!"
The angel appeared at Dean's shoulder.
"Take me home." She pleaded.
"I met them once." Sam told him that night. "Her parents. They were nice...kind. Didn't mind that she had some stranger living with her."
Dean sighed.
"You reckon this was those...Death Eaters?"
Sam gave him a bleak look.
"You know as well as I do, we don't get that lucky."
"So it's our fault." Dean announced.
"Probably." Sam agreed and reached for the whiskey.
They didn't see Hermione for a week after that.
Not, of course, that they were expecting to. They could sympathise with what she was going through. When she did finally appear, Castiel dropped her silently in the corner of their motel room and left immediately. Dean lowered the gun he'd aimed automatically and sighed.
"Hey."
"Hi." She rasped. Hermione looked terrible. Her hair was in disarray, her clothes wrinkled. She looked exhausted, large bruises under her eyes, thrown into sharp relief by her incredibly pale skin.
"You okay?" Dean asked cautiously.
She shrugged tiredly and dropped the duffel she'd been holding onto the floor. It landed with a surprisingly heavy bang.
"Here." He got to his feet and opened his arms, surprised when she ran straight into the them. She was shivering, and he sighed into her hair, pulling her closer.
"What happened?" He asked eventually, when she'd pulled away and they'd both sat down. Sam was out doing...something. It somehow didn't seem important at the moment.
"I got home." She murmured hollowly. "I...the Auror's debriefed me. Spent ages questioning me, in fact. Course Harry arrived halfway through and pulled the Hero card so they went a bit easier on me." She gave a broken laugh. "You know they spent almost two hours asking if I knew of a spell which could do that to a human? They showed me the bodies, wanted me to identify them."
"And you're sure it was them?" He questioned, hoping she was wrong.
"Yes. I'm sure."
"Shit." He breathed. "You said their bodies were damaged..."
"Damaged? THEY RIPPED THEM TO SHREDS!" She shrieked, startling Dean into jumping. "They ripped them to shreds and they wanted to know if I could tell them what spell could leave a sulphuric residue on a corpse!"
Dean swallowed nervously.
"I'm sorry..." He began.
"Why?" She was hysterical, eyes flashing, hair crackling with static and wayward magic. "Sorry for dragging me into this fucking apocalypse? Sorry for making my family a target? That wasn't you!"
"What?" Dean asked, startled.
Hermione snorted, clawing her hands through her hair.
"It's not your fault. Or Sam's. Or Cas'. I chose to help you. I decided to stay." She turned back to face him, tears streaming down her face. "I wish I could blame you. I really do. But this..." She drew in a shuddering breath. "This is all on me. Lucifer saw me. He knew what and who I was and I tried to kill him." She swiped at her cheeks with her sleeve. "I was an idiot for thinking there wouldn't be consequences. And I just...I couldn't take it any more. The Weasleys...they didn't understand. Harry...he blamed himself. They all thought it was Death Eaters. I just couldn't take it any more." she repeated. "The funeral was yesterday, I packed up my stuff this morning and prayed to Castiel." She stared at him, shaking slightly. "I've got another week of compassionate leave. So...can I stay?"
"Yes." He said without hesitation. "Course. Please. Listen, why don't you go have a shower? I'll text Sam to pick up some food on the way back, okay?" She nodded weakly and grabbed her bag.
Sam took one look at Hermione, downloaded the cheesiest movie he could find and settled all three of them on Dean's bed. Hermione couldn't tell you what film it was, but she could tell you that neither brother let go of her all night. That evening, her nightmares returned full force and not even Dean standing watch could keep them at bay. The motel manager had to be sent away several times with the assurance that she wasn't being murdered.
She went back to work a week later and hid herself behind piles of paperwork and legislation. She realised, halfway through a redraft, that she didn't enjoy her job any more. She was pushing so hard against years of bureaucracy and discrimination and the only thing she managed was to tire herself out.
"Why am I here, Ron?"
Ron looked up from his lasagne and frowned at her.
"Because you can't eat at your desk."
Hermione gave a bitter laugh.
"Good a reason as any." She decided.
"Bring her to me."
Dean frowned, but took the older woman's advice as an order. The next day he packed up his brother and their almost catatonic witch and sent the Impala in the direction of South Dakota.
"Ellen wants to see you." He explained, when Hermione eyed him dully from the back seat. In all honesty he was worried about her. She hadn't laughed in weeks, barely spoke to anyone. It reminded him of the days after Jessica's death when Sam would do nothing but plot the end of the yellow-eyed demon. It reminded Sam of his father's death when Dean bottled everything up inside and refused to talk about it. Like Dean, Hermione believed her parents deaths were solely her fault, but unlike with Dean, he wasn't entirely sure she was wrong.
Bobby's house had changed since their last visit. Ellen, either in a fit of grief or a sudden hatred of dirt, had cleaned everything including, judging by his suspiciously whiskey free state, Bobby.
"You boys head on out." she ordered, sitting Hermione down at the scrubbed table. "We'll be fine."
Dean ignored the vaguely alarmed look Hermione shot him and wheeled Bobby outside to work on some cars.
Ellen dumped a bottle of beer in front of her and Hermione accepted it out of reflex, fingers curling around the cool glass.
"I heard about your folks." She murmured, taking her own seat. "Thought I'd tell you I was sorry."
Hermione sighed.
"Thank you, Ellen." she said quietly.
"It weren't your fault, girl."
Hermione glanced up at that.
"Wasn't it? I should have protected them better. Sent them away again. Done something!" Hermione's voice rose in pitch until a nearby glass shattered. Ellen gave the fragments an unimpressed glance.
"You done?" She demanded. Hermione didn't respond, staring down at her fingers. "I'm sorry about what I said. You did your best to save..." Ellen swallowed. "Jo." She whispered. "Bobby talked some sense into me." The hard woman grimaced. "Damn idiot thinks he's some kinda psychiatrist or something."
A small smile made it's way onto Hermione's face and Ellen nodded.
"What do we do?" Brown eyes met hers and Ellen met them unflinchingly. "What do we do now?" The older woman shrugged.
"I don't know. Get on with life, I think. Try an' beat this damn Apocalypse. Make sure those boys survive." Hermione smiled bitterly. "Never met someone as prone to danger as those two. How's that angel of yours?"
"Busy." Hermione picked at the label on the bottle. "Looking for God."
"Good luck to him."
"Hmm."
"Tell me about them?" Ellen asked.
Hermione's head jerked up and she stared at her.
"You're parents...Tell me about them."
"They were dentists." Hermione said slowly. "Emma and Daniel Granger, from London. They met in University and..." She talked until she couldn't think of anything else to say. And then Ellen sat back and told Hermione about Jo's first steps and her first day of school.
Glenwood Springs Psychiatric Hospital was a modern building full of blank walls and square windows. Hermione stared up at, visibly unimpressed.
"And we're here again, why?" Hermione asked dryly.
"An old friends of our dad's. He reckons there's a case here." Dean locked the boot of the car with all their weapons and belongings in it. Hermione felt almost naked without her wand or Simiel strapped to her side, but they couldn't risk losing them for good once they were admitted.
"The things I do for you people." Hermione muttered.
"So, now what?" Sam asked.
"Now we go be crazy people."
"So, tell me Alex, how do you feel?" Dr Fuller asked, smiling over his clipboard.
Sam shrugged, looking a little depressed.
"I'm all right. Bit down, you know."
"Why's that?"
"Well, I did start the Apocalypse."
The doctor paused.
"As in..."
"As in I set Lucifer free from his cage." Sam told him cheerfully. "It was all my fault, I've caused literally thousands of deaths. It was an accident, I mean, don't get me wrong, but I didn't do it on purpose." Hermione patted his hand sympathetically. "But Sophie got me some magic and..."
"Magic?" he interrupted again.
Sam nodded.
"Yeah, she's like this super powerful witch."
"I can do spells." Hermione beamed.
"Yeah, and like she didn't mind when I drank her blood, she was like, totally awesome about it and..."
"You didn't mean to." Hermione assured him, brown eyes wide. "I was possessed by a demon."
"Demons?" The doctor managed weakly.
"Mmhmm."
The doctor turned back to Dean as Sam and Hermione continued to bicker about whose fault it was the end of the world had happened.
"I have to say, Mr Jones, I think I see your point. I would like to take both your brother and sister in for more some more rigorous testing."
"That's great." Dean gave him an easy smile. "They've been driving me insane. The Apocalypse wasn't their fault."
"It's not?"
"No. There was this demon who got him addicted to demon blood, Sophie, stop trying to curse Alex, and he wasn't acting like himself."
Hermione began to chant under her breath in Latin.
Dr Fuller picked up his phone.
"Cancel my appointments." He ordered.
Sam, Dean and Hermione regrouped in the communal room of the hospital, all dressed in scrubs. Sam burst into loud laughter when he saw Hermione. Dean, whose sense of self preservation was slightly stronger than his brothers, pursed his lips.
"You look..."
"Small." Sam supplied.
Without her usual jeans and shirts, with her hair loose around her shoulders, Hermione looked considerably smaller than she usually did. Add to that, whatever charm she used to keep her hair in order had been removed with her hair band and she looked like a very grumpy, if rather fluffy, kitten. She kicked out at Sam's instep in retaliation and Dean chuckled as Sam hopped on one foot, scowling.
"You two really are like brother and sister..." He trailed off, looking slightly nauseous. "That's disgusting." He murmured to himself.
"So what are you in here for?" Hermione asked, trying in vain to tuck her hair back behind her ears. "Sam and I are delusional."
"Worrying co-dependency issues." Dean scowled. "I don't know what he's talking about."
Sam coughed.
"This from the guy who freaked out because we went to the grocery store for three hours and didn't call."
"You could've been killed. Demons, Sammy."
Sam smirked.
"Were you chanting what I think you were chanting?" He asked Hermione, who turned slightly pink.
"What was she chanting?" Dean frowned. "And since when did either of you speak Latin?"
Sam and Hermione gave him equally irritated looks.
"Since always. And if I'm right, it was something along the lines of "there's a stain on this floor, there's a stain on this floor, there's a stain on this...""
"Someone's staring at you." Hermione pointed out.
"That's Martin."
They walked over and the older hunter cleared his throat, smiling nervously.
"Sam and Dean, you boys got big. And you got a sister!"
Dean winced.
"Martin, this is Hermione. She's hunting with us." Hermione waved. "How you been?"
Martin shrugged.
"Good as can be expected considering I'm..." He shrugged again and they all sat down.
"So...uh, what is it you think we're hunting?" Sam asked.
"Ghost. Monster...I don't know. Whatever it if it's killed five people in four months. Doctors call it suicides, of course. But they're a bunch of idiots."
"Has anyone seen this thing?" Dean asked, doubtfully.
"Well, not really. Few people have caught a glimpse."
"Are they reliable?"
"Sure. Why wouldn't they be?"
Dean glanced at the woman who was waltzing with an invisible partner and raised his eyebrow.
"No idea."
"Look, I know you think I'm crazy, but I know something's here. You gotta trust me!"
"We do." Sam assured him.
"Ah! Alex, Eddie and Sophie. I'm glad to see you're making friends."
The hunters glanced up and stared at Dr Fuller.
"Why don't you and Mr Creaser join us for group?"
Seeing no choice but to comply, they got up from the table. Hermione and Sam lingered just long enough to hear Dr Fuller tell Dean he couldn't go with them.
"Why not?" Dean demanded.
"Well, to be frank, the relationship you have with your brother and sister seems to be dangerously co-dependant. I think it's time to split you up from your siblings."
"But..."
The doctor walked off, leaving Sam and Hermione to make apologetic faces at Dean.
They regrouped an hour later and Hermione pillowed her head on her arms.
"Bad group?" Dean asked, curious.
"In some ways." Sam glanced around to make sure no one was listening. "There was this guy, who swears he's seen a monster. Thinks it's going to kill all of them. How about you, find out anything?"
"Well, apparently I'm a narcissistic schizophrenic." Hermione hummed an agreement and Dean flicked her ear. "But other than that, not much. The doctor I talked to was too interested in diagnosing me than helping."
Sam rolled his eyes.
"No kidding. What now?"
"How about we talk to this guy who saw the creature?" Dean suggested.
"When?"
"Tonight." Hermione lifted her head of the table. "Dean, are you all right?"
"Damn doctor tried to shrink me but otherwise yeah, why?"
"No reason. If we go tonight it'll be easier..."
Hermione met them outside their rooms, freeing Sam with a wave of their hands.
"Guess it takes a lot to keep a witch in." he murmured.
"You should see our mental asylums. We have to be chained down." Hermione told him sadly.
Sam frowned.
"Why?"
"Magic is linked to emotion. Not something you really want going awry." She explained.
"Room 303. We've got 15 minutes before rounds." Dean snapped, dragging their attention away from magical treatments.
The screaming started as they got closer to Ted's room and the three hunters sped up into a run.
"Hermione, get that door open!" Dean ordered, seeing Ted's slippered feet beat against the reinforced glass.
"Leave her alone!" Sam snapped.
The lock sprung free just as Ted went limp. He was hanging from the ceiling, a bed sheet wrapped around his neck.
"Too late." Hermione whispered.
Hermione waited with Martin in the communal area, twirling a chess piece between her fingers.
"So those boys are doing, what now?"
"Breaking into the morgue."
Martin twitched.
"How do you know them?" Hermione asked, trying to change the subject.
"I used to hunt with their Daddy. Good man, John Winchester."
Hermione stared at him in disbelief, before she shook her head.
"We got something!" Dean dropped into the chair by her side without warning, causing small sparks to cascade from her fingertips.
"Don't do that." Hermione hissed.
"Sorry." Sam settled into the other chair and sighed. "So this thing, whatever it is, sucks your brain dry through a hole in your neck." he looked at Martin expectantly. "Got any ideas what it is?"
"Yeah." Martin paled. "A really bad one."
"Have any trouble getting into the morgue?" Hermione asked as they headed back to the Martin's room.
"Nearly got caught by that nurse..." Sam grimaced. "Dean got us out of it."
"How?"
"You don't wanna...unf!" Sam grabbed the blonde girl who'd leapt at him from the doorway and kissed him, and pulled her away from him sharply.
She pouted up at him. "Aww."
Dean chuckled as she skipped off down the corridor.
"You could do worse."
"Shut up." Sam grumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Martin rummaged under his mattress and pulled out a journal, similar to the one Dean kept in the Impala. He flicked through it desperately, before settling on a picture of a grotesque face, with black eyes.
"What is that?" Hermione asked, worriedly.
"A Wraith." Martin shuddered. "They crack open skulls and eat brain juice."
"Have you ever fought one before?"
"Never. Never wanted to neither."
"How do we stop it?" Dean asked, more concerned with the immediate problems.
"Silver. A wraith can even touch the stuff without their skin crackling. But that's the good news..."
"They can pass an humans." Hermione announced, skimming the page of jagged writing. "So it could literally be anyone."
"Then how do we know who it is?"
"A mirror." Martin jumped in, glaring at Hermione resentfully. "It'll show it's true form in a mirror."
Sam nodded.
"So we check everyone. But why is it here? Why a mental hospital?"
"Perfect hunting grounds." Dean shrugged. "No one's gonna believe anyone and no one bats an eye at a few suicides."
"I'm gonna go find a mirror."
Sam glanced after his brother and sighed.
"I'll go." Hermione offered.
She caught up with Dean outside the nurses station.
"You okay?"
The question caught her off guard and she frowned at him.
"Yes?" she offered.
Dean glared at her.
"I didn't sleep last night." She sighed. "I'm just a bit strung out."
"Why not?"
"I don't know if you've noticed, but this isn't the most restful environment..." She trailed off peering over her shoulder. "Can you hear that?"
"What?"
"I thought I heard...nothing. It's impossible." She gave him a weak smile. "Are you okay?"
"Did Sam put you up to this?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yeah, if my brother wants to talk to me about my feelings."
Hermione sighed, leaning against his shoulder.
"I understand," She offered. Dean glanced down at the scar on her arm, visible in her short sleeves.
"Yeah. Guess you do."
She glanced over her shoulder again, frowning.
"I'm going to check some of the other mirrors." She told him slowly, still frowning. "Sam's getting silver."
"It's Dr Fuller."
Hermione and Sam looked up at him and Dean frowned. "Bit more excitement here, people. Come on!"
"Dr Fuller?" Sam repeated doubtfully. Hermione was too busy squinting down the corridor. "The psychiatrist?"
"Saw him in the mirror and everything."
Sam nodded.
"Okay. I've got us some silver, when are we going after him?"
"This evening?" Dean suggested. "Are you listening?" He demanded.
Hermione didn't look around, her attention clearly focused elsewhere.
"Yes."
"To me?"
"Maybe."
Dean rolled his eyes.
"The sooner we're out of here, the better. This place gives me the creeps."
That nights attempt at hunting was an unmitigated failure on all counts. Not only was Dr Fuller not the Wraith, but in his attempt to kill him, Sam had put two orderlies in Hospital and had to be sedated. Dean and Hermione stood in his doorway watching him bat at the motes of dust floating in the air.
"So, now what?"
"We test everyone against silver?" Hermione suggested. She had her forearm pressed to her chest, almost curling herself around it.
"How? If we go around cutting people they'll drug us too."
She shrugged and winced as though someone had shouted in her ear.
"There's nothing more we can do tonight." She told him quietly, almost whispering. "Perhaps we should just get some rest?" She left before he could agree and Dean watched her as she almost fled down the corridor to her room. Sam chuckled.
"She's crazy. You're crazy. We're all crazy. Crazy, crazy, crazy."
"Shut up, Sam."
He left not longer after that, only to be followed through the corridors by his shrink.
"You still hunting that Wraith?"
"It'd go a lot easier if you'd stop bothering me." He retaliated.
"Not going to happen, Dean."
"People are dying." He snapped.
"People always die. It's what people do."
Dean winced, remembering Hermione's words from what felt like a lifetime ago.
"I'm trying to save your life here so..."
"It's not my life that I'm worried about." She told him.
"Oh, for...I am fine." He told her. "Completely fine!"
"Even you don't believe that." She smirked. "All this pressure, all that guilt. It's killing you. You can't save everybody." Her expression shifted and Dean frowned. "Hell, these days you can't save anyone, Dean."
Dean frowned, caught out at the use of his real name.
"What did you say?"
"The truth!" She snapped viciously. "You're the reason Jo is dead. You're the reason Hermione's parents are gone. You shot Lucifer, but you couldn't finish the job. You couldn't stop Sam from killing Lilith and you broke the first seal. All you do is fail!"
"Who are you?" Dean demanded, stepping closer to her. "How do you know about that stuff?"
"Hey!"
He ignored the shout from the closest orderly.
"Who are you?" He repeated. "Tell me!"
"Settle down." The man yelled, moving closer. Dean looked up at him for a moment before looking back at his doctor.
"Who are you?"
"Hey, buddy..."
"Who is she?" Dean demanded.
"Who?"
"What are you blind?" Dean pointed at the woman. "Her!"
The orderly rolled his eyes.
"There's no one there, pal."
"I'm not real, Dean." The woman whispered, a cruel smirk crossing her face. "I'm in your head, because, guess what? You are going crazy!"
"No." He backed away, unable to take his eyes off her. "NO!"
Dean woke that night to the sound of a blood curdling scream.
"Hermione!"
Throwing his covers aside, he grabbed his makeshift lock pick and set to works on the door. In the distance he could hear the sound of large feet thumping across the ground. They were getting closer. He gave up on the lock as the footsteps rounded the edge of the corridor. Hermione sped down the hallway, brown hair hanging in tangled locks behind her head. She stopped outside his door, turning terrified eyes on Dean.
"Dean!" She begged, standing on her tip toes to see in through the glass. "You've got to help me!"
"What's wrong? Is it the Wraith?"
"No. Bella. She came back..." Hermione twisted to look over her shoulder. "I can hear her, Dean. She's coming to kill me. Please, you've got to help me." The thundering of feet got closer and Dean could only watch as Hermione was knocked to the floor when an orderly tackled her. The man flew ten feet through the air and crashed into a wall as Hermione backed away from the others.
"I won't tell you!" She swore through her tears. "I won't tell you, I won't tell you, I won't tell you! DEAN!"
"HERMIONE!" Dean slammed his palms against the door, desperate to get to her. Behind her a spiderweb of cracks spread out along the plaster, threatening to split at any moment.
The nearest orderlies grabbed her arms, pinning her against the wall. Hermione twisted and kicked to get free, her eyes never leaving Dean's. A hypodermic was pushed into her neck and she shrieked.
"Please, no. Please! I don't know where it is. We found it. Dean, tell her we found it!" She begged as the drugs began to take hold. The orderlies lifted her arms over their shoulders and began to drag her back the way they came. "Dean, please!"
Horrified, Dean collapsed onto the floor.
"Please don't be real." He muttered to himself. "Please don't be real."
"They got Hermione."
Sam stared at his brother who was curled up in a chair, twitching slightly.
"They took her. Why did they take her?"
"Dean, are you okay?"
"No." Dean's green eyes glared at his brother accusingly. "It's your fault. I mean, it was never the demon blood, Sam. It was you. You're the monster!"
Sam flinched as the patients began to crowd around him.
"Freak!"
"Monster!"
"Your fault."
"No." Sam begged. Someone shoved him and he reacted, swinging wildly with his fists. "NO!"
From the corner of the day room, Dean watched his brother fight invisible people and clutched his knees to his chest, shivering.
"What's happening?" He begged.
"Eddie, we need to have a talk about your siblings." Dean glanced up at Dr Fuller and flinched.
"Why?" he rasped.
"I'm afraid they've only gone down hill since their arrival at this facility and we've had to isolate them."
Dean shook his head to try and concentrate.
"Why?" He managed.
"Your brother has severe rage issues. I'm afraid we're simply not well enough equipped to deal with the likes of him. As for Sophie, she's suffering extreme hallucinations and paranoia. We've had to keep her sedated after we found evidence of self harm. She's been carving words into her arm. I don't suppose you'd know anything about it."
"Uh...no."
"Right." Dr Fuller got to his feet, "Well, I'll leave you to it for now Eddie."
"Are they gonna be okay, doc?" He asked, hating the way his voice wavered.
The older man sighed.
"I really don't think so. I'm sorry."
Martin jerked upright in bed, swinging the silver plated blade. Dean flinched back.
"It's me! It's Dean!"
Martin dropped the knife.
"Oh, sorry." Dean turned away. "You look like hell, boy."
"I feel like it too." Dean said shakily.
"Where's Sam or Hermione?"
"On lock down. They went insane!"
"What?"
"I'm going crazy too!" He added fearfully. "I'm seeing things, hearing things. Hermione think she's back in the damn war, no one knows what's going on inside Sam's head." He paused before his eyes widened. "Crazy is the clue!" He declared.
"What do you mean?"
Dean glanced over his shoulder and because distracted by the pattern of light on the wall.
"Dean?"
"Crazy is the clue!" Dean yelped, snapping back to the conversation.
"You said that."
"Think about it. What we do for a living, we're bound to go crazy someday. No offence."
Martin blinked.
"None taken."
"But for all three of us to go nuts on the same day...I mean it's gotta be..." He trailed off staring out the window.
"The monster?"
Dean jumped, spinning to scan the room.
"What? Where?"
"No. There's nothing there." Martin assured him, now severely alarmed.
"Okay." Dean breathed deeply to get himself back under control. "What if this thing make people crazy, as well as sucking their brains out?" He faltered. "Does that seem possible?"
"Well...yeah. I suppose so."
"Okay. So we got infected, through touch or saliva or venom..." Dean paused. "That girl. The one who kisses everyone. She kissed Sam, she kissed me yesterday. Maybe she got 'Mione too." For a second Dean expression cleared. "Why did I have to miss that?" He mumbled.
"Focus, Dean."
"Oh, right. Wendy. We need to go see Wendy."
Wendy was splayed on her back on the bed, the nurse who'd admitted them crouched over her. Her wrists had been slit and as Dean watched the nurse pulled a long spike from the girl's neck.
"Is this real?" Dean begged, utterly confused.
The nurse smirked.
"Very real." She assured him. Dean and Martin stared at her in horror as she licked the spike clean of brain fluid before it slid back into her arm. She attacked them before Dean ever registered her moving, a flying punch sending him crashing into the wall. Martin managed to slice at her with the knife and she hissed as the cut bubbled and burned. She backhanded him before she fled the room, slamming the door behind her.
"You gotta get after her, Dean." Martin urged, pushing to his feet. "Dean!"
Somehow Dean made it out of the room, dodging the orderlies who went after Martin. There were blood splatters on the floor and he followed them woozily to the solitary confinement area. Only two of the rooms were in use, one was silent and the other vibrated as its lights flickered.
"'Mione?" he asked blearily.
Dean heard Sam cry out and threw himself through the first door. The Wraith paused, spike an inch away from Sam's neck.
"Get away from Sammy!" He yelled, even as he swayed on the spot.
She smiled.
"You really think this is going to end well for you?"
"No?" Dean offered.
She rolled her eyes and knocked the silver plated scalpel from his hands. She slammed him against the wall and Dean saw stars as his head bounced against the padded material. The Wraith got a hand around his throat and pinned him there, raising her other arm. That bone spike extended again and Dean grabbed her arm, trying to force her away from him. She just chuckled and extended it another few inches so it almost brushed his forehead. For a second they were evenly matched, then Dean switched his grip from her arm to the spike and yanked. The spike came apart in a spurt of blood and, disgusted, Dean dropped it on the floor. The Wraith howled, holding her wrist to her chest. Dean ducked under her, snatched up the knife and drove it straight into her heart. For a moment she stood there gasping, as the sound of sizzling flesh filled the air. Then she fell back, and slid down the wall.
Dean paused as his vision steadied.
"You still crazy?" Sam asked from the bed.
"Nope. You?" Dean started unbuckling the straps holding Sam down.
"I'm good, where's Hermione?"
"Next door." The alarm went off and the brother looked at each other. "We need to go."
Hermione was slumped in the corner of her room, unconscious. Several panals had been ripped from the walls and the light boxes had been shattered, tough plexiglass dented as though someone had thrown a great weight at them.
"When she said insane witches were dangerous..." Sam murmured, scooping her up in his arms.
"No time. Come on, Sam!"
They ran full pelt out the nearest emergency exit, heading for the parking lot where Dean had stashed the Impala, Hermione now thrown over Sam's massive shoulders, her head bouncing like a rag doll's. Dean opened the back door and Sam laid her down gently across the back seat.
"How much did they give her?" He asked.
"I don't know. She'll wake up eventually. Can we just get out of here?"
Sam didn't move.
"Sam, you okay?"
"No. No. The Wraith..."
"What, Sam?"
"She was right."
"No, she wasn't. She's dead." Dean pressed, incredulous. "We need to go. I don't want Hermione waking up here. She might blow up the car or something."
"I try to hide it," Sam continued as though he hadn't spoken. "I am angry. I'm mad at everything. First I was mad at you and Dad, and then it was Lilith and Ruby and now it's Lucifer. I can't control it, Dean. It's not the demon blood or anything else, it's me. It's inside me. I am furious, constantly and I don't know why."
"Stop." Dean ordered. "Stop it. So what if you are angry? What are you gonna do about it? Stop hunting? Say yes to Lucifer?"
"No, Dean..."
"Exactly. You wanna know why 'Mione and me don't talk about our feelings? Why we won't tell people about things? Because it's the only way we can keep functioning. You bury it, you bury every fucking thing and you forget about it, because that's how we keep going, all right? That's how we don't end up a drooling mess like Martin. Got it?"
"Dean..."
"Sam, do you get it?" He begged.
Sam sighed and nodded.
"Sure."
"Then let's get the hell out of here."
Hermione began to stir about three hours later, when there was two hundred miles between them and Glenfield Psychiatric. She woke slowly, pulling herself up right. Dean glanced over his shoulder at her.
"You okay?"
Hermione frowned and shook her head slightly, evidently too tired to bother lying.
"What happened?" She asked, voice rough.
Dean explained and she nodded, following easily.
"She wasn't real? Bellatrix...she wasn't real?"
Sam was long since asleep in the passenger seat so Dean didn't have any problems with answering her question.
"No. You believe me?"
She held his gaze in the rear view mirror for a long moment before she nodded.
"I've got two hours before I need to head to work." She mumbled. "Can't believe I spent my weekend chasing Wraiths in a mental ward."
Dean grimaced.
"Don't." He begged.
"Don't what?"
"Don't go to work. Not today. You're a mess, we all are. The last thing you need is to go to work. Please."
Hermione gave him a grim smile.
"I'm sorry, Dean." She whispered.
"You cannot go on like this." The angel told her a week later as he was healing a cut on her shoulder. The press of his Grace against her skin was familiar now, but it still raised the hairs on her arms. She clasped the hand that rested on his knee and smiled.
"I'll be fine, Castiel."
"You should not lie to an angel." He told her conspiratorially, before he frowned. "You are a lot more physically affectionate with me."
"I'm your friend." She explained tiredly. "Physical contact conveys closeness and comfort."
"But Sam and Dean..."
"Are men. They show it differently. Look..." She waved a hand around her. "Humans need contact. It's why we..." She broke off.
"Dean hugs you, doesn't he? Or touches your shoulder occasionally?"
Castiel nodded.
"It's for the same reason I do it. We need contact to prove we're still standing. It grounds us."
He frowned thoughtfully.
"Nonetheless my original point still stands. You will exhaust yourself. You are exhausting yourself."
Hermione sighed.
"I'll be fine." She repeated. "I'm on top of it. It's only the end of the world after all."
"We need these reports by this weekend."
"Yes, sir." Hermione abandoned the proposals for the werewolf sanctuaries she'd been working on and pulled the reports towards her, twirling her quill between her fingers.
"We've got serious ghost activity going on. EMF's off the chart. As far as the history goes there's been sever murders in this house." Sam scowled. "And none of them were buried. Yay!"
Dean sighed.
"Nothin's ever simple. You gonna be all right?"
Hermione nodded.
"Sure."
"Granger, we need you to pull overtime and sit in on the Manticore trials."
"Yes, sir."
"Duck!"
Hermione spun, ducking under Sam's arm as he swung the iron bar through the ghost. Salt poured from her wand as she cast a wide circle around them.
"Where's Dean?" She demanded, panting.
"Presenting the case against the accused, Department Member Hermione Granger..."
"I'm aware these questions are a little strange, but it helps the Bureau get a full view of events..."
"I need you to go to the Goblin Liaison Office..."
"Hermione, can you pass me those salt rounds?"
"Centaur herd on Iona..."
"Demons in Wisconsin..."
"Reports!"
"Hermione!"
"Granger!
"I quit."
A/N
This chapter took a little longer, but it is our longest so far. So that's something.
Please please let me know what you thought of this chapter. It's really motivational.
Special thanks go to:
Terrance Rogue, ChelsMels, meldz (be nice), Zombie Rayne (I promise no triangles), Weasleychick32, Nightgigjo, LeonaBlack931, BrightStar (I did, it was awesome) and NorthernLights25
Hood.
Also anyone who might follow me on tumblr will have seen my pictures from Glasgow Comic Con. It was undoubtedly the best day of my year. Someone asked if I wanted pie, and I found a Sam and I had my picture taken with a lot of Castiel's when mine wandered off. She came back. I even had fun in the cue, because we sang "be a man" from Mulan at the top of our voices. So kudos to that!