Discalimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.
November 2008.
"We're here."
Hermione looked up from her book as Dean walked down the stairs, unable to hide her smile at the woman who followed him in.
She haven't seen Pamela in years, but the woman was once a close friend to her and – when she'd gone through the parts of puberty that Bobby didn't want to even think, let alone talk, about – a mother figure.
"Pamela," Sam said with a smile, moving closer to her. "Hey."
"Sam," the blind woman said, reaching forwards. "Sam?"
"Yeah, It's me, Sam," he replied.
"Sam, is that you?" Pamela asked.
"I'm right here."
"Oh," Pamela sighed, her fingers studying his face. "Know how I can tell? That perky little ass of yours," she said with a smirk, slapping said ass. "Bounce a nickel off that thing. Of course, I know it's you, Grumpy," she huffed, no longer keeping the act of not being able to sense around her. "Same way I know that's a demon and that poor girl's Anna and that Hermione didn't even bother to say a proper 'hello'."
Laughing at the familiar attitude, Hermione stood up and neared the psychic.
"Hey, Pam," she said, unsure of how to approach the woman. She was sure Pamela knew of her death, as were most of the hunters Bobby was in contact with, but she wasn't sure how to explain her return to the woman. "It's been a while."
"Oh, drop the formalities, girl," Pamela laughed, pulling Hermione into a tight hug. "I helped you through your first period, there's no shame between the two of us."
"I did not need to know that," Dean muttered from behind Pamela.
"It's a natural part of life, kiddo," Pamela called towards him before turning her attention back to Hermione. "So, how've you been? These boys been treating you well? Is Sam eyeing your rack same as he's eyeing mine?"
"Pamela!" Hermione tried to stifle her laugh as Sam stuttered an apology.
"Don't sweat it, kiddo," Pamela told him. "I still got more senses than most. For example, I can sense it's a different Winchester who's got his eyes for you, isn't it?" Both Dean and Hermione turned three shades darker of red, but the psychic didn't seem to care as she moved deeper into the room. "Anna," she said, reaching out and holding the other woman's hands. "How are you? I'm Pamela."
"Hi," Anna said shyly.
"Dean told me what's been going on," Pamela said. "I'm excited to help."
"That's nice of you," Anna smiled.
"Well, not really," Pamela replied. "Any chance I can dick over an angel, I'm taking it."
"W-Why?"
"They stole something from me," Pamela explained, taking off the sunglasses she wore so far and revealing two white orbs where her eyes were supposed to be. "Demony, I know. But they're just plastic. Good for business," she added as an afterthought. "Makes me look extra-psychic, don't you think?"
Behind Pamela's back, Hermione kept a hand firm against her mouth in an attempt to keep from laughing as Dean and Sam exchanged a partly-tired, partly-amused look.
"Now, how about you tell me what your deal is, hmm?" Pamela asked, wrapping an arm around Anna and leading her towards the bunker, the other four following silently.
Once Pamela explained what they were going to do, Hermione, Sam and Dean went straight into action, organizing everything they needed and bringing it to Pamela and Anna. If Sam noticed how Dean and Hermione actively avoided crossing each other's paths, he didn't say anything, but Hermione could see Pamela's knowing smirk every time she and Dean were nearby.
"Don't you worry," Pamela told Anna when everything was set up. "Nice and relaxed."
Anna was laying on the couch before Pamela, with Hermione and Dean close by in case something went wrong and Sam and Ruby watching from the doorway.
"Now, I'm going to count down from five to zero," Pamela instructed. "When we're at zero, you'll be in a deep state of hypnosis. As I count down, just go deeper and deeper, okay? Five, four, three, two, one." She gently touched Anna's temples, and Hermione could almost feel the change of atmosphere in the room. "Deep sleep. Deep sleep. Every muscle, calm and relaxed." There was a moment's pause before Pamela went on, "Can you hear me?"
"I can hear you," Anna replied.
Pamela nodded. "Now, Anna, tell me… how can you hear the angels? How did you work that spell?"
"I don't know," Anna replied. "I just… did."
Hermione glanced at Dean worriedly, only to frown as she saw him looking straight at Anna. At the doorway, Sam and Ruby exchanged worried looks, as well, but Pamela ignored all of them.
"Your father," she started, "what's his name?"
"Rich Milton," Anna replied without hesitation.
"All right," Pamela said. "But I want you to look further back when you were very young. Just a couple of years old."
"I don't wanna."
"It'll be okay, Anna," Pamela promised. "Just one look, that's all we need."
"No," Anna muttered, starting to shake.
"What's your dad's name?" Pamela pushed. "Your real dad. Why is he angry at you?"
"No. No… no!" Anna suddenly called out. "No!"
"Calm down," Pamela instructed, her words drowned out by Anna's screams.
"No, he's gonna kill me!"
"Anna? You're safe."
"No! He's gonna kill me!" Anna cried out, sitting up straight.
The door slammed shut, locking Ruby out, and the lights exploded around them but Anna couldn't stop screaming.
"Calm down," Pamela went on. "It's all right, Anna. Dean, don't!" she called out as Dean reached out towards Anna, only for the woman to throw him back with ease.
Hermione pulled out her wand, ready to intervene if necessary, but Pamela beat her to it as she quickly moved to calm Anna down.
"Wake in one, two, three, four, five," she said, touching Anna's temples again and finally succeeding in making Anna calm again. "Anna?" she asked worriedly. "Anna? You all right?"
"Thank you, Pamela," Anna sighed as she woke up, looking around. "That helped a lot. I remember now."
"Remember what?" Sam asked.
"Who I am."
Hermione fought the desire to roll her eyes, choosing to speak instead.
"Okay," she said impatiently. "I'll bite. Who are you?"
Anna looked between all of them before finally replying.
"I'm an angel."
Panela moved back from the woman as if she was burnt – again – and Sam and Dean both swallowed nervously. Hermione only sighed.
Just when she thought she might not hate Anna that much, the woman managed to prove her wrong.
Pamela left not long after, unable to keep looking at the apparent Angel – or, at least, former Angel.
"It's nothing against you guys," she told Hermione as she pulled her into a hug. "It's just…"
"I understand," Hermione replied. "I… I've been having the same conflicted feelings."
"And yet, you stay."
Expecting the question, even though the psychic hadn't asked it straight up, Hermione couldn't help but let out an apologetic smile.
"It's… Alistair," she said. "The Demon who's after Anna. I wouldn't wish anyone a fate like that."
"You know him from Hell," Pamela stated, receiving the feelings from Hermione through her powers. "And just the thought of him makes you feel… ashamed." If she had eyes, she would have looked straight into Hermione's. "Down there is extreme circumstances," she said. "Whatever you did, I'm sure Dean and Sam would understand."
"Would they?" Hermione questioned. "Because, honestly, I don't fully understand, and I lived through it."
"Oh, but you lived," Pamela noted. "Very barely, but you did. That's not an obvious in what you'd gone through. I need you to promise me something," she added after a few seconds of silence in which Hermione tried to take in what had just been said.
"I…" Hermione hesitated for a moment. "Okay, sure. What is it?"
"When this mess is done and over with… kiss that boy of yours," the psychic all but ordered. "I swear, you'll do the world a favor. There's a limit to how long we can all sit on our asses and wait for you to pull your heads out of your asses. And tell the Angel who pulled you out that I don't hate him as much as I do the other ones," she added with a small smile. "Anybody who takes that kind of risk for you is definitely in my good books."
"I think he's more out of your bad books than in the good ones," Hermione joked. "But I'll pass the message along."
"Good," Pamela replied, raising her brow. "And the other part of what I asked?"
"Pam…" Hermione sighed. "It's complicated."
"Life's complicated," Pamela replied. "And so's death and everything in between. I'm not telling you to marry him tomorrow – though I don't think I'll be opposed to that idea," she noted. "But you have to start somewhere."
"I… I'll start," Hermione conceded.
"That's all I ask for," Pamela smiled. "Tell Bobby I said 'hi', would you?"
"I will," Hermione promised. "It was good seeing you, despite the circumstances."
"You, too," Pamela laughed. "Don't be a stranger, stranger."
"Never."
After Dean and Pamela went off, Hermione went back inside and locked herself in her room.
She didn't want to talk to anyone. She didn't want to think of the several missed calls she had on her phone – from her dad, from Ron, from Harry and from Gabriel. She didn't want to see Anna, knowing what the woman was. She didn't want to see Ruby, and risk another conversation about Hell or about Alistair. She didn't want to see Sam, and be forced to face the amount of things she hid from him and from Dean.
Instead, she laid on her old bed, in her childhood room, and thought.
She thought of times that were simpler, with no Angels or Apocalypse, no Demons or Voldemort looming over her head. She thought of meeting Sam and Jess in collage, and finally being in a relationship with Dean.
She thought of Dean breaking up with her, and of Jess' death. She thought of the years since, of going to Hell and coming back.
Mainly, she thought of Alistair.
The Demon scared her more than she felt comfortable to admit, even to those who might know what she was talking about, like Ruby and Gabriel. Beyond being the head torturer of Hell, an expert in his sick field, he was the only one who knew the real extant of the things she did.
He was the only one who knew about the countless souls she tortured.
He was the only one who knew she enjoyed it.
Even after Dean came back, Hermione didn't leave her room. She could see him in the yard, talking to Anna, and fought back the jealousy that rose inside her.
He was a grown man, she kept reminding herself. One who had made his choices, as well as making them very clear.
She thought back to the promise she made to Pamela, knowing that it was more than likely pointless. She had tried, multiple times during the past few years, and he rejected her.
She didn't think she could bear being rejected again.
When nighttime came and they all got in the Impala and started driving towards where Sam believed Anna's Grace – the part of her that makes her an Angel – fell. She bit back her comments about them travelling the entire country for one girl, telling herself that it will all be worth it when Anna will have her Grace back and will be able to eliminate Alistair.
To say she was disappointed when they found out the Grace was no longer where it fell was an understatement.
They regrouped into an abandoned farm not far from there, trying to think of possible solutions to the situation.
"We still got the hex bags," Dean said. "I say we head back to the panic room."
"What, forever?" Ruby asked in disbelief.
"I'm just thinking out loud," Dean defended.
"You call that thinking?"
"Hey, hey," Sam cut in. "Stop it."
"Anna's grace is gone, you understand?" Ruby asked. "She can't angel up and protect us. We can't fight Heaven and Hell."
For the first time since she met the Demon, Hermione felt that Ruby was truly and wholly terrified. The Angels wouldn't hesitate to kill her – in fact, they would be glad to. From their point of view, she was a Demon, an Abomination on Earth that needed to be eliminated. The Demons, on the other hand, saw her as a traitor, and with Alistair involved…
"One side, maybe, but not both," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "Not at once."
"Guys," Anna said before any of them could respond to Ruby's words, "the angels are talking again."
Four sets of eyes snapped up to look at the fallen Angel, but it was Hermione who broke the tense silence.
"What are they saying?" she asked, almost afraid to find the answer.
"It's weird," Anna frowned. "Like a recording. A loop. It says: 'Dean Winchester gives us Anna by midnight, or…'" she trailed off, leaving a hollow feeling in Hermione's stomach in fear of what might come next.
"Or what?" Sam asked, seeming just as fearful to find the answer as the rest of them.
Anna swallowed hard as she replied, making sure to avert her eyes from the group as she spoke.
"'Or we hurl Hermione Singer back to damnation.'"
