POP QUIZ: How do you write about dancing?

ANSWER: You make all the characters drunk.

WARNING. THERE ARE SONG LYRICS IN THIS. THE FIRST SONG IS "All This and Heaven Too" BY FLORENCE + THE MACHINE. THE SECOND SONG IS "Skinny Love" BY BIRDY. IF YOU KNOW THE SECOND SONG, YOU KNOW THAT THIS WILL HAVE A LITTLE BIT OF SADNESS.

Dancing

Just a few drinks. It wasn't voiced aloud or anything, but it was acknowledged. Nobody was getting hammered the night before a big battle. But then two drinks turned into six, six turned to seven, then eight, and she wasn't quite sure what number she was at now, but they were out of beer.

Dean had gone into a drunken rant about how "shit all this shit was shitty" and Hermione had quickly lost track of what he was saying. Castiel, however, was nodding his head along and agreeing. She wondered how much he'd had.

Sam, however, was tilted back in his chair at the small dining room table and staring up at the ceiling. She knew that she was concerned about him, but somehow felt that she didn't quite know the word just yet. Her brain was foggy, and she was struggling along, trying to keep up. She hadn't gotten this drunk since her eighteenth birthday, when Fred and George had dragged her out to a Muggle pub to get her hammered and have Harry and Ron laugh at her.

"Hey," Dean said, frowning at Hermione across the table, "Why aren't you this drunk?"

She smiled and arched an eyebrow before plainly stating, "I'm British."

Dean stared at her with glassy eyes before blinking, "Huh. Never thought about that."

Sam chuckled, shaking his head, still staring at the ceiling before he snapped straight up.

"What is it, Lassie?" Dean asked, looking at him urgently before his voice dropped to a whisper, "Is Timmy stuck in a well?"

"Who is Timmy?" Castiel asked worriedly before standing, "We must save Timmy! Come along, Dean! Timmy is in danger!" He stumbled out of the back door, Dean sighing and standing to follow while Hermione tilted her head to Sam.

"Come on," he said, standing and holding out his hand to her.

"What? Sam, what's wrong?" she asked, standing as well, gripping his arm when she stumbled a little.

"What?" he cracked a grin and shook his head, "Nah, you're dancing with me."

"What? Sam, no, I don't dance," she insisted, shaking her head.

"Aww, come on, Hermione," he said with a smile, and it seemed so genuine, one she hadn't seen in a while.

With a sigh, she allowed him to pull her to an unobstructed space in the kitchen, near the radio, which he turned and flicked on. A familiar song came on, and she smiled, humming along with it.

"Oh, so you know this song?" he asked, taking her arms and pulling her against his chest, grinning down at her. "You know, I've never heard you sing."

"And you never will," she insisted before he dipped his head and pouted, making her laugh and shake her head. "Fine! You win!" He grinned and pressed the tip of his nose to hers, a strange drunken gesture that was actually quite sweet.

She took a deep breath. They probably wouldn't remember this in the morning. It was debatable on what would happen the next day, on where they would end up, but she was willing to have this one unremembered moment of happiness.

"But with all my education, I can't seem to command it. And the words are all escaping and coming back all damaged. And I would put them back in poetry, if I only knew how, I can't seem to understand it. And I would give all this and heaven too, I would give it all if only for a moment that I could just understand the meaning of the words you see, 'cause I've been scrawling it forever, but it never makes sense to me at all."

Sam grinned, pressing his forehead to hers, and her chest tightened in an unfamiliar way.

"You sing really well," he smiled, swaying with her in the kitchen, his hands on her waist and hers around his neck.

She felt her face heat up and dropped her gaze to his chin, which was a bad idea since his lips were in that vicinity. "We aren't really dancing to this song."

"Uhh, yeah we are," he countered with a grin.

"We're slow dancing," she explained, removing her hands from their perch and preparing to move away, "This isn't a slow song."

"Then we'll find a slow one," he said, moving to the radio, one wrist trapped in his hand. She prayed he wasn't able to feel her pulse and how rapidly it was moving. Please let him be too drunk to make that connection. He stepped away from the radio as the first few notes of a piano were played, the beginning of the song, and he moved back to her.

Come on, skinny love, just last the year

Pour a little salt, you were never here

My, my, my,

My, my, my

Staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer

"This is a sad song," he murmured, and she sighed a sigh of defeat and stepped into his chest, wrapping her arms around him, making it a sort of slow, swaying hug, but he didn't seem to complain.

And I told you to be patient

And I told you to be fine

I told you to be balanced

And I told you to be kind

And in the morning I'll be with you

But it will be a different kind

'Cause I'll be holding all the tickets

And you'll be owing all the fines

"Are you scared?" he whispered into her hair.

She gave a shaky laugh, "I've been in a war before."

"You didn't answer the question," he noted.

She took a deep breath, smiling when she realized she'd been greeted with a cross between the woods after the rain and old books, something that she'd decided was just Sam. "I'm bloody terrified."

He gave a hollow laugh, "Me too."

She pressed her ear to his chest, listening to his heartbeat, steady and strong. Proof that he was standing here, holding her, just as scared as she was.

"What are you afraid of?" she asked.

"That everyone I care about will be taken away because of me," he answered without hesitation, "You?"

She shut her eyes, focusing on the beat, "Same."

"Hermione…are you scared of me?"

She opened her eyes and tilted her head back to look at him, frowning and narrowing her eyes, "Why? Are you scared of me?"

"No," he answered before tilting his head, "Unless you're mad. Then you're fucking terrifying. But, no, your heart was beating pretty fast earlier. If you want to stop, I wouldn't – "

"Sam," she whispered, pulling away from his chest, still in the loose circle of his arms. "I'm scared of losing you."

He gave a curt nod before giving a lopsided grin, "I'm not as drunk as you are."

"I'll believe it," she smiled back, "I drank quite a lot."

"Trying to numb it?" he asked.

She gave a small shrug, "Yeah."

He hummed before stopping, taking her hand and pressing her fingertips to his neck, just on his pulse point. It was thudding, faster than before, and she blinked before Sam dipped his head and quickly kissed her lips. He pulled away as she looked at him in surprise.

"After tomorrow," he said, "I'll remind you of that."

She smiled and nodded, reaching up to kiss him again, rising up on her toes to meet, her heart pressed against his.

"There's got to be something. Castiel, can't you - ?"

"Sammy, just…she's gone."

"But she can't be!"

"Sam, come on, let's get you checked out, you've got a pretty nasty cut on your head, it might leave a scar if we don't hurry up."

"But Dean! What about Hermione?"

"Hermione will be…She'll be okay now, Sam."

"But…we made it. She should have too."

"I know, but, Sam…it's not how these things…Castiel, what the hell are you doing?"

Hermione sucked in a deep breath, clawing at the Earth, her eyes popping open, staring up at Castiel as he peered down at her. Sam was by her side in an instant, Dean looking as if he'd had a sudden heart attack, while Castiel looked to the sky and nodded.

"I knew it wasn't her time," he said, looking rather smug.

"Son of a bitch," she breathed, curling into Sam's chest while he grinned into her hair. "Holy shit, did I just die?"

"Welcome to the club!" Dean said jovially, patting the top of her head while simultaneously ruffling up Sam's hair. "Come on, we'll go celebrate your first death."

"What?" she called out after him as he and Castiel began the trek back to the Impala. "What did you boys do before me?"

"Eh," Sam shrugged, still grinning as if he'd just won the lottery, "We died a lot."

She shook her head at him, smiling before reaching up to kiss him.

"Hey, I was supposed to remind you," he said, standing with her in his arms before settling her onto her feet.

"Well, I just beat you to it, didn't I?" she smiled, leaning into his side as he walked with her to the car. "I feel like I should quote some Princess Bride, what about you?"

"As you wish," he teased, kissing her again when she gave him a dry glare.

Do I get the award for "Not as Sad as it Could Have Been" yet, or do I need to keep trying?