The second time he met her, she saved his life.

The demons had come from nowhere. He'd been minding his own business, passing through the alleyway to the small gun store down the street, when they'd ambushed him, striking him across the skull with what felt like a pipe. Normally, and his life is that screwed up that he meant this, ten demons wouldn't be that much of an issue, not now they have the knife and especially not after the time he spent in purgatory. But he took a beating yesterday and sat up all night listening to Sam coughing his lungs out and he really hasn't got the strength right now.

He puts up a good fight though. He should be grateful the alleyway is so narrow that they can't stand any more than two abreast at a time, but seeing as they're kicking the shit out of him, he can't bring himself to care.

"Hey!"

The voice is weak, and unusually familiar. The demons pause to stare at the woman standing in the street light.

"Leave him alone." She ordered, and she looked surprisingly unafraid, but Dean's eye has started swelling up and he's peering through a forest of legs. She gives him enough time to reach for Ruby's knife in his pocket, though and that alone is enough to turn the odds in his favour.

One of the demons snorted.

"What's he to you?"

She stiffened.

"He's my friend." She whispered, waving her arm in one sharp movement. He missed quite what it was she did but suddenly the demon closest to her fly back, knocking several of his companions down with him. It gave Dean enough time to scrambled to his feet and the fight became a lot more equal. Of the ten demons they started with, the number dropped to four as Dean slashed through the demons with Ruby's knife. The bursts of light she produces keep the demons as his back away from him, and several sport heavily bleeding wounds.

It's over rather suddenly. The last demon in front of Dean spasms and fall, and he was just turning to warn her, when she too is struck over the head. This blow knocks her unconscious and she crumpled into a ragged heap on the ground. The last demon, who seems to be possessing someone's grandmother, looks rather startled that Dean managed throw the knife, hilt over blade, with enough force to sink it into it's shoulder.

He scrambled forward, crouching next to the woman. It was three days ago that he saw her last, in that tiny diner and she'd crossed his mind several times since then. He'd wondered what had happened to her in a vague sort of way. And her she was, saving his life.

"Hey!" He shook her gently, wincing when his hand came away red and wet. "Dammit."

Dean grabbed the stick she'd been holding, tucking it safely in his pocket, before he scooped her up in his arms. Sam was not going to be happy to see him.

Sam wasn't, as it turned out, happy. But he helped Dean settle the woman on one of the spare beds and check her for serious injuries. Other a badly mended broken bone which had nothing to do with Dean, her only serious problem was the gash across the back of her head. Well, that and the fact that she wouldn't wake up. Sam's medical knowledge isn't great, but he suggests, with the air that he knows more than Dean does, that she's unconscious more due to exhaustion than actually injury. They removed her coat and boots, leaving them nearby on a chair and without them it's painfully obvious how underweight she is. The bruises are no less severe than the last time Dean saw them and he can't help but think Sam might be right.

"Why can't she go to the hospital?" Sam sighed, packing away the medical kit. "Don't you think we've got enough on our hands?"

"You didn't see her." Dean ground his teeth, washing the blood off his face. "She was taking down those demons like they were nothing. I want to know what the hell she is and why she helped me."

Sam's shoulders slumped and he nodded, unable to find the energy to keep arguing.

She didn't wake for two days and it's only through chance that Dean's there when she does. He'd been passing through the corridor, searching the Men of Letters Bunker for things that might prove useful, when he heard the sharp intake of breath.

"SAM!" He yelled, moving into the room.

His yell wakes her completely and her eyes open. She stared at him in confusion before instinct takes over and she bolts from the bed, ducking past him into the hallway. Dean cursed and gave chase, which proves fruitless because she's run straight into his man mountain of a brother. Sam settled two large hands on her shoulders and stared into her eyes, waiting for her to fully wake up as she struggles against him, lashing out in fear.

"Who are you?" She demanded, voice cracked, a stray tear winding it's way down her cheek. She's afraid, deathly so and that hurts Dean more than he would have expected.

"I'm Sam," Sam turned her gently, not letting go of her shoulders. "That's my brother, Dean. You saved his life."

Her head cocked to one side and she frowns, disrupting the line of her scar. She stops shaking briefly and slumps.

"You're...the diner. You..." She coughed. "Bought me food?"

He nodded slowly.

"Yeah, I did. You wanna tell me why you ran into an alley full of demons?"

Both Winchesters were expecting some form of denial or disbelief about the demons comment, but she just shrugged, stepping carefully away from Sam. He let her go, but only because Dean took a step closer to her, blocking her only mean of escape.

"You needed help." She pushed some of her curls back from her face and Dean spotted another scar on her neck, as though someone held a knife to it. She glanced around desperately, looking for a way out.

"You didn't have to." He murmured.

"You were kind to me." She said simply.

Dean sighed.

"Right. Well, we brought you here to fix you up. You've been unconscious for two days."

Her eyes became panicked and she swallowed loudly.

"Two days?" Her breathing became erratic and she began to shake again, almost vibrating with terror. "I shouldn't be here. I've already stayed in one place too long..."

"Hey, just calm down..."

"They're going to find me." She doesn't quite sob, but it's close and edged with panic. "You're all in terrible danger!"

"Hey!" She stopped pacing and stared at Dean. "No one's going to find anyone. I promise you, you're safe." She shook her head, disbelief etched across her scarred features. "Now why don't you tell us your name, huh?"

She gave him a bleak look.

"My name is Hermione Granger," she told him darkly. "And you never should have helped me."

A/N This is not the Dean/Hermione story I meant to write. That one is still in progress.

This is a set up to possible a much larger story, but I want to know what you think of it.

Tentatively,

Hood