Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Supernatural.

May 2009.

Sam was addicted… to Demon blood.

To be completely honest, Hermione didn't know how she didn't notice the signs earlier. Now that she knew, a lot of things made a whole lot more sense.

He was currently locked in the panic room, his screams reaching up to the living room, where Hermione was currently seated with her father, who was clearly relived to see she was significantly better than when he last saw her, close to six months ago, and Dean, whose gaze she was pointedly avoiding.

"How long is this gonna go on?" Dean finally asked as he accepted a glass full of Firewhiskey Bobby handed him.

"Here, let me look it up in my demon-detox manual," Bobby said dryly as he handed Hermione a glass of her own. "Oh wait. No one ever wrote one. No telling how long it'll take. Hell, or if Sam will even live through it."

"I can… silence it," Hermione offered quietly as Bobby's phone rang. "If you want."

Dean shook his head silently. As much as it hurt him, he knew he needed to hear it.

The screams meant Sam was still alive.

"...Suck dirt and die, Rufus," they heard Bobby saying. "You call me again, I'll kill you."

"What's up with Rufus?" Dean asked.

"He knows," was all Bobby said.

This time, it was Hermione's turn to silently shake her head at Dean's question.

Despite all the years that passed, her father never did quite forgive Rufus for how he acted during the War.

The phone rang again, and this time Bobby snapped.

"I'm busy, you son of a bitch. This better be important." There were a few moments of silence before he spoke again. "Email me the details," he said, hanging up.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"The friggin' Apocalypse is what it is," Bobby muttered, moving to the computer and pulling up the mail Rufus sent.

In it were a few links to different news sites, which Bobby opened and scanned quickly before cursing under his breath and printing out the articles.

"What?" Dean asked.

"The news," Bobby replied, handing Dean the papers. "The news ain't good."

"This is what Rufus called about?" Dean asked, looking through the page he was holding as Hermione looked through another. "'Key West sees ten species go extinct'."

"Yep," Bobby replied.

"Alaska. Fifteen-man fishing crew all stricken blind, cause unknown," Hermione muttered.

"New York, teacher goes postal, locks the door, kills exactly sixty-six kids," Bobby went on. "All this in a single day. I looked them up. There's no doubt about it. They're all seals. Breaking," he added, though there was no real need for it. "Fast."

"How many are left?" Hermione asked.

"Who knows?" Bobby asked. "Can't be many. Where the hell are your angel pals?"

"You tell me," Dean muttered.

Hermione fought the instinct to call Gabriel. She hadn't seen or spoken to him since their fight and she sure wasn't going to apologize now, even if she knew he was right.

"I'm just wondering…" Bobby started before cutting off.

"What?" Dean asked.

"The Apocalypse being nigh and all… is now really the right time to be having this little domestic drama of ours?"

The anger flashed over Dean's face for less than a second, but Hermione knew she wasn't the only one to notice it.

"What do you mean?" he asked, obviously forcing his voice to remain calm.

"Well, I don't like this any more than you do, but… Sam can kill demons," Bobby said. "He's got a shot at stopping Armageddon."

"So what?" Dean asked, his voice slowly rising. "Sacrifice Sam's life, his soul, for the greater good? Is that what you're saying? Times are bad, so let's use Sam as a nuclear warhead?"

"Hey!" Hermione cut in as Dean's tone became too aggressive for her liking. "Look, I know it's a problematic idea, but that's all it is for now. An idea, and maybe we shouldn't rule it out just yet."

"I know you hate me for suggesting it," Bobby went on. "I hate me for suggesting it. I love that boy like a son, and he's a brother to Mya in all but blood. All I'm saying is maybe he's here right now instead of on the battlefield because we love him too much."

Dean didn't say anything, only looking between the two of them in disbelief and anger for a few seconds before walking out. As soon as he was out, Hermione let go of a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Well," she said. "Honestly, that went better than I expected."

Bobby let out a smile, reaching out towards his daughter. "Oh, come here," he said, and Hermione moved closer only to be pulled into a tight hug. "It's good, seeing you like this."

"Like what?" she asked.

"Smiling, for one," he replied. "I don't think you did since you came back. And even when you did, it wasn't this carefree."

"A lot happened those past few months," was all Hermione said in return.

"I know," Bobby sighed, letting go of the hug but still keeping Hermione close enough to look her in the eyes. "Look, if you want to talk about that night, with Alistair…"

"I… I do," Hermione said. A few months ago, she wouldn't have been able to tolerate the thought, but she was better now. "But not now," she said, glancing towards the panic room. "Not while…"

"Whenever you're ready," was all Bobby said, smiling at her one last time before retreating to the kitchen to start preparing dinner.

They all slept pitifully that night. Hermione wasn't even sure what time it was when Dean finally came upstairs, but she was lying in bed for hours at that point.

However hard she tried, she couldn't block out Sam's screams.

In the morning, over three cups of coffee, Dean told them about the conversation he had with Castiel the night before.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Bobby said slowly, looking like it was painful for him to get the words out from between his gritted teeth, "but you willingly signed up to be the angels' bitch?"

Dean seemed less than amused at Bobby's choice of words, but his irritation only seemed to fuel the older hunter's anger.

"I'm sorry. You prefer 'sucker'?"

"After everything that happened," Hermione cut in before either man said something they would later regret, "now you trust them?"

"Come on, give me a little credit," Dean snapped. "I've never trusted them less. I mean, they come on like shady politicians from planet Vulcan."

"Then why in the hell did you –"

"Because what other option do I have?" Dean cut Bobby off. "It's either trust the Angels or let Sammy trust a Demon."

Upset as they might be with the situation, neither Bobby nor Hermione could find a flaw in this logic.

"I see your point," Bobby conceded.

Hermione said nothing, knowing that even if she didn't agree with Dean, there was nothing she could do now. She frowned when she noticed something else.

Sam didn't scream for a full minute.

"You hear that?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Bobby said, "that's a little too much nothing."

Hermione was already halfway to the basement by the time the men started moving, and she was holding Sam's head in her hands, trying to keep him from hurting himself during the seizure he was having before either Dean or Bobby could protest her opening the door to the panic room.

"What if he's faking?" Dean asked.

"You really think he would?" Bobby questioned back.

"I think he'd do anything."

When Sam was pulled out of Hermione's grasp and slammed into a wall, she looked up at Dean, her voice cold as ice.

"Ain't no faking this."

"We're gonna have to tie him down for his own safety," Bobby said, rushing in and helping Hermione pull Sam back up on the cot in the middle of the room. He pulled out his belt, putting it in Sam's mouth to prevent him from biting his tongue off. "Dean? You with me?" he asked when no response came.

"Dean!" Hermione called out, seeming to snap Dean from whatever was going on in his head when he saw the state he was in. "We need to tie him down," she repeated. "Before he has another fit."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said, looking between her and Bobby for a moment before looking back down at Sam. "Let's just get it over with."

"I'm gonna ask one more time," Bobby said once they got Sam secured and went back upstairs. "Are we absolutely sure we're doing the right thing?"

"Bobby, you saw what was happening to him down there," Dean said. "The demon blood is killing him."

"Is it?" Hermione asked. "Or is the lack of it killing him?"

She knew stories of people who lost their minds trying to rehab from pain-relief potions. Demon blood had to be a thousand times worse.

"I'm sorry," Bobby told Dean. "But I agree with Mya. We're killing him. Keeping him locked up down there. This cold-turkey thing isn't working. If… if he doesn't get what he needs, soon, Sam's not gonna last much longer."

"No," Dean said. "I'm not giving him demon blood. I won't do it."

"And if he dies?" Hermione tried getting Dean to see reason, but to no avail.

"Then at least he dies human!"

Hermione had no words to describe what was happening to Dean in those moments before he spoke again, but she could see his heart breaking. It was written all over his face, clear as day.

"I would die for him in a second," he finally went on, his voice shaking, "but I won't let him do this to himself. I can't." He was in physical pain, and that hurt Hermione more than anything else. "I guess I found my line. I won't let my brother turn into a monster."

Hermione didn't say anything as she moved forward, wrapping her hands around Dean. And for the first time since she arrived – for the first time in God knows how long – Dean finally let go of everything he was holding inside.

Neither of them knew how long they stayed this way, Dean crying in Hermione's arms, but when he finally calmed down and Hermione let go, she didn't suggest the possibility of letting Sam go again.

Still, she couldn't help but wonder. And from the way it looked, her father was doing the same.

What if they were making the wrong call?