Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Supernatural.


February 2010.

Hermione didn't think she had this many fights with her father since her fifth year at Hogwarts.

The two of them had gone through a lot together, and it only ever made them stronger. But now Hermione was half-certain he was going to try and take her phone away as punishment – completely disregarding the fact that she was a thirty year old grown woman.

He had told her more than once over the past few days that she was more than free to leave, go back to England or join the boys again. She made it very clear where he can shove this offer.

But as much as she knew it was important for him that she'd keep what was going on a secret, she didn't feel comfortable letting it go completely.

So she sent the boys a text about a guy who was allegedly killed by a man who died five years ago. If Muhammad was forbidden from going to the mountain…

She couldn't understand how Bobby didn't see it. Despite what he implied the other day when they fought, it wasn't because when Hermione came back from the dead, he treated her with suspicion, while with her it's all acceptance.

Maybe a bit because the two of them didn't get along but mostly because dead people should stay dead, no matter how much we wanted them to come back.

What she didn't expect was for the boys to appear in town and almost immediately run into Sherriff Mills, who knew more than a bit about Bobby – and more than enough to recognize his voice over the phone when she called their 'FBI Supervisor'.

Which led to Sam and Dean angrily appearing on their doorstep.

"Technically," Hermione said as her father threw her a nasty look, "you said not to call them. I didn't call, I texted."

Bobby didn't say anything, only keeping the frown on his face as he let the boys in.

"You know how many times we called?" Dean asked as they moved through the house and to the living room. "Where have you been?"

"Playing murderball," Bobby snapped.

"What's that smell?" Dean went on, looking at Bobby even more intently and taking note of his combed hair and clean shirt. "Is that soap? Did you clean?"

"What are you, my mother?" Bobby asked. "Bite me!"

"Before you ask, he's been like that the whole week," Hermione cut in, once again receiving an angry glare from Bobby.

"Bobby, seriously," Sam said, trying to calm them all down.

"I been working," Bobby finally said. "You know, trying to find a way to stop the Devil."

"Find anything?" Dean asked.

"What do you think?"

"Bobby, it's just…" Sam tried again. "There's a case less than five miles from your house."

"What, the – the Benny Sutton thing?" Bobby asked, turning to Hermione. "I told you it's nothing to worry about."

"And I didn't believe you," Hermione replied. "And since you decided I'm five years old again and not allowed to leave the house, I had to call for help from outside."

"Wait, you knew about this?" Dean asked.

"Hell, yes," Bobby replied. "I checked into it already. There's nothing here."

Hermione didn't bother to hide her snort of disbelief.

"Except a witness who saw a dead guy commit murder," Sam said slowly, looking between the father and daughter again.

He didn't remember when he ever saw them like this. Whatever was going on between them, it had to be really bad.

"What witness?" Bobby asked. "Digger Wells?"

"Yeah," Dean said. "So?"

"So, he's a drunk."

"So are you," Hermione muttered, just loud enough for all of them to hear her.

"Well, what about the lightning storms?" Sam asked. "They look like omens."

"Except in February in South Dakota in storm season," Bobby replied. "Guys, I thought it was something, too. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."

"And sometimes it's not."

"Oh, will you shut up already?" Bobby snapped again. "Don't you have better things to do?"

"Not while you're being irrational!" Hermione replied just as angrily.

"I… think we'll leave now," Sam said.

"No!" Hermione called out, making both him and Dean jump. "Listen, guys, you need to know that –"

"Hermione Jean Singer, you stop that right now!" Bobby all but yelled. "Boys, you can go. There no case here, no reason for you to stay."

"But –"

"I said stop!"

"Okay," Dean said slowly, not missing the tears in Hermione's eyes or how he never saw Bobby behave that way. "We got it. No case here, so I guess we'll go."

Hermione gave him a long, disbelieving look before all but storming upstairs, taking full advantage of the fact her father couldn't follow her there. Bobby escorted the boys to the door, apologizing that they had to see that.

As they walked out, Sam and Dean exchanged a knowing glance.

Ever since they first met them, Hermione has always been Bobby's everything. His life, his light, his little girl, even as she grew up. Seeing him behave that way towards her, screaming at her for something so seemingly insignificant… something was going on here.

And there was definitely a case in this town.


Hermione was almost glad to hear Dean and Sam got arrested.

Glad – because it meant that they listened to her and didn't just leave the town with the literal walking dead.

Almost – because it meant she now had to head to the Sherriff's office in the middle of the night to bail them out.

As Bobby sorted everything out with Sherriff Mills, Hermione got Dean and Sam out. Dean gave her a quick peck on the lips before looking at her, silently asking if she was all right. Hermione shook her head before marking them to follow her to her father, just as Sherriff Mills walked away.

"Bobby, I thought the Sheriff hated you?" Sam asked, confused, as he grabbed Bobby's wheelchair and started pushing him towards the exit.

"She did till five days ago," Bobby replied with a shrug.

"What happened five days ago?" Dean asked.

"The dead started rising," Hermione replied, giving her Dad a meaningful look. "All over town."

"So you knew about this?" Sam asked Bobby.

"Yep," Bobby replied.

"I think what Sam meant to say is, you lied to us?" Dean asked. "And forced Mya to lie, too?"

"Look," Bobby said, pulling his wheelchair out of Sam's grasp and turning to look at them. "I told you there was nothing here. And there isn't. Not for you."

"There are zombies here."

"There are zombies…" Bobby agreed. "And then there are zombies. Come with me," he added at the confused look the brothers gave him, heading to the exit.

Dean and Sam both turned to look at Hermione with a questioning look.

"It's hard to explain," she said with a heavy sigh. "It's easier to show you. Let's go."

It took every ounce of respect in her to not leave Bobby stranded at the station and instead drive him back to the house. The boys drove the Impala and met them there, Dean talking again as soon as they stepped foot in the house.

"You two want to tell us what the hell –" he started, only to be cut off by a woman who walked out of the kitchen, setting up the table for three to eat.

"Oh, hey," she said, smiling at them. "I didn't realize you were bringing company."

"It's four a.m., babe," Bobby told her, his voice much softer than it was to either the boys or to Hermione. "You didn't need to cook."

"Oh, please!" she replied, still smiling. "I'll get some more plates."

Hermione didn't bother fighting the urge to roll her eyes.

"Who was that?" Dean asked.

"Karen," Bobby said, for the first time in days having the dignity to look ashamed. "My wife."

"Your new wife?" Dean tried.

"His dead wife," Hermione replied, and this time it was Bobby who rolled their eyes at her.

A while later found all of them sitting by the table, Karen serving them pie which Dean, at the very least, seemed to enjoy. Hermione didn't touch her plate, just as she did with any other food that she served her in the past few days.

"This is incredible, Mrs. Singer," Dean said as he took another bite.

"Thank you, Dean," she said with a bright smile.

Hermione kicked Dean's shin underneath the table.

"Ow!" he said, only to freeze as the yell attracted her attention. He looked at Hermione, seeing the pointed look she sent his way. "What?" he asked. "It is."

"It's great, Karen," Bobby said as she served him a plate, as well. "Thanks. Could you, um, just give us a minute?"

She nodded, still smiling much to Hermione's annoyance, and headed back to the kitchen. As soon as the door shut behind her, both boys turned to look at Bobby.

"Are you crazy?" Dean asked. "What the hell?"

"Dean, I can explain," Bobby started, only to be cut off as Dean spoke again.

"Explain what? Lying to us? Or the American girl zombie making cupcakes in your kitchen?!"

"First of all, that's my wife, so watch it," Bobby snapped.

"Yeah," Hermione said, her voice tight, "you should learn that she's perfect and can do no wrong."

"Bobby," Sam said before the older hunter could snap at Hermione, as well. "Whatever that thing is in there, it is not your wife."

"And how do you know that?"

"Are you serious?"

"You think I'm an idiot, boy?" Bobby asked. "My dead wife shows up on my doorstep, I'm not gonna test her every way I ever learned?"

"Actually, you only tested her one way," Hermione added. "I was the one who did the other tests, while you were just oh so willing –"

"Oh, shut it already?"

"What is it?" Dean interfered before he would be forced to see his girlfriend and her father murder each other. "Zombies? Revenant?"

"Hell if I know," Hermione said, her tone civil once more as she turned to look at him. "She's got no scars, no wounds, no reaction to salt, silver, holy water…"

"She crawled out of her coffin," Dean commented.

"No, she didn't," Bobby said. "I cremated her. Somehow, some way, she's back."

"That's impossible," Sam said.

"Tell me about it."

"You bury her ashes?" Sam asked.

"He buried them in the cemetery," Hermione replied. "That's where they all rose from. And I already checked it, there's no sign that I saw of any witchcraft or Demonic activity. None that we know of, any way."

"'They all'?" Dean repeated. "How many?"

"Fifteen, twenty…" Bobby shrugged, reaching to his pocket and pulling out a paper which he then passed on to Sam. "I made a list. Uh, there's Karen… Clay… Sheriff Mills – her little boy came back."

"And there were no signs?" Sam asked. "No omens?"

"Well, there were the lightning storms," Bobby replied.

"And one more thing," Hermione said, standing up and heading to the table, where a book was open – a book she used more than once in the past days as the main argument she held against Bobby. "'And through the fire stood before me a pale horse. And he that sat atop him carried a scythe, and I saw since he had risen, they, too, shall rise, and from him and through him.' It's from Revelations," she added, in case it wasn't clear.

"So, what, Death is behind this?" Dean asked.

"Death, Death?" Sam clarified. "Like 'Grim Reaper' Death?"

"You got any better idea?" Hermione asked.

"Awesome," Dean sighed. "Another Horseman. Must be Thursday."

"But, wait…" Sam said, still uncertain. "Why would Death raise 15 people in a podunk town like Sioux Falls?"

"I don't know," Bobby admitted.

"But it can't be good," Hermione quickly added. "Please, tell him. It's not just me that sees it, right?"

"She doesn't remember anything, you know," Bobby said before either of the boys could agree with Hermione.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"Being possessed, me killing her… her coming back."

"Bobby…" Dean sighed, finally realizing why Bobby was doing nothing about the actual zombies in the town and why Hermione was behaving the way she had.

"No, no, don't 'Bobby' me," Bobby said. "Just… just listen, okay? She hums when she cooks," he told them, marking towards the kitchen. "She always… used to hum when she cooked. Tone deaf as all hell, but… And I never thought I would hear it again. Look, just read Revelation. The dead rise during the apocalypse. There's nothing in there that says that's bad! Hell, maybe it's the one good thing that comes out of this whole bloody mess."

"Dad, with everything we know about the Apocalypse so far, do you really believe that?"

"Well, maybe I do!"

"And what would you do if you were us?" Dean asked.

"I know what I'd do," Bobby said. "And I know what you think you got to do. But… I'm begging you. Please. Please. Leave her be."

Hermione turned away from her father. Never before did she hear him beg. Never did he beg for her.

But he begged for Karen.

And for that – just for that – she couldn't bring herself to do what she knew she had to.

As much as she believed this could only end badly, as much as she wanted… she couldn't bring herself to kill Karen.