Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Supernatural.

December 2009.

As always, Hermione found herself sitting on the stairs at the front porch of her father's house.

She wasn't sure why this seemed to be the place that calms her the most. Possibly because of the serene feeling it gave her. Possibly because, unlike everything else in her life, this place never changed – always the same, since she was a child. The same old cars, the same cool wind at night, the same tree line in the distance.

So she came here, whenever she needed some peace and quiet, when the nightmares came or when she was facing a hard decision.

Tonight, it was the second one that sent her outside.

Everyone else was inside, getting drunk for what may as well be their last night on Earth. Tomorrow morning, they will leave to literally face the Devil. The information Crowley gave them turned out to be reliable, and though the rest did fear it was some sort of a sophisticated plan, Hermione knew deep down that it wasn't.

After all, Crowley was a businessman. And businessmen are only as good as their word.

They took a picture, earlier.

"I'm gonna need something to remember your sorry asses by," Bobby joked, but they all knew it might not be a joke.

The next day was going to be the most dangerous of their lives – and considering the fact that Hermione had faced a homicidal Dark Lord when she was still a teenagers and the rest spent their days hunting Supernatural creatures, it was saying a lot.

She heard Bobby come outside. If there used to be a time when he could just appear next to her, now she could clearly hear the sounds his wheelchair made, and even more so in the silence of the night.

He came to a stop next to her, joining her but not saying a thing. Just when the silence between them began to become unbearable, he spoke.

"You gonna tell me what's wrong, or am I gonna have to sit here all night?" he asked. "It is December, you know. Seems kinda like a recipe for pneumonia."

Hermione smiled, though the heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach stayed. Not looking at her father, she answered, though she did so with a question of her own.

"How did you do it?" she asked. "Go out to hunt monsters when I was young? Leaving me at home, knowing that I might not remember you if something happened? Knowing that every case… it could be the last."

Bobby sighed. Hermione never asked him about that before, though he had expected it ever since Jessica-Rose was born. It was truly a proof of the process Hermione had gone through in the past year, and yet it was not a conversation he ever wanted to have.

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "I just… I knew I would never forgive myself if I didn't, knowing everything that out there. I was trying to make the world safer for you, for everyone. And I just hoped every time that whatever higher power kept me safe so far will do it one more time. There were still close calls, of course," he added. "But there was something inside me that told me I had to keep doing it."

Hermione nodded. She expected as much, but it didn't make her feel better. Especially not since…

"I don't think I have it," she said. "That something you have inside, that Dean and Sam have… I don't think I have it. Because I'm sitting here, and I know that tomorrow we're supposed to go and fight the Devil and I just… I can't. I keep thinking of Jessica-Rose and how I already left her once. And I can't. I can't do it again."

"But you don't want to stay here, either."

"How can I?" Hermione asked. "How can I stay here while they're all out there, risking their lives? And I just don't know what to do." She looked up at him, all of the sudden feeling like a scared five year old again. "What am I supposed to do?"

"I can't answer that for you," Bobby replied. "First, because I'm biased. I want you to stay here, where you're safe. I want you to go back to England, where you're the safest. But also because you have to be the one to make the call. You're the only one who knows. It's your life."

"But I don't know," Hermione said. "I don't know what should I do… what's the right thing to do."

"I think you do," Bobby said. "I think you did when you came back here with the boys a few hours ago. You just don't want to admit it to yourself, because you're scared it will change who you are. But it won't."

Hermione could feel tears forming in her eyes. "How am I supposed to tell Dean and Sam?"

"You don't," a voice replied from behind her and Hermione turned around to see Dean leaning against the doorframe. "We already know. And before you ask, we don't think any less of you for it."

"But I –"

"No 'but'," Dean said, walking closer and sitting next to her, forcing her to look at him. "We meant it when we said no one has to come if they don't want to. And you have a little kid at home, we get it."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Dean said, pulling her into a tight hug, his voice cracking ever so slightly. "Just… wait for us here, when we get back."

Hermione nodded, leaning into the hug, even though they both knew that with what was expecting them tomorrow, they might not be coming back.

Waiting almost made Hermione regret not going with the boys.

Almost.

She tried calling Dean, for the tenth time in the past hour. They boys last checked in over two hours ago, despite promising to keep Hermione and Bobby updated, and though she told herself it was nothing, she couldn't help but fear the worst.

"The number you dialed is unavailable," the automated voice said from the other end of the line. "Please try your call again."

"Still nothing?" Bobby asked. Hermione shook her head, trying – and failing – to keep the worry from showing. "Damn it, boys."

"They're okay," Hermione said. "Their phone must've died, or something. They're… they're okay. Right?" she asked, and Bobby didn't know what to say.

They both jumped at the sound of static coming from the old CB radio in the other room. Bobby neared it hesitantly as a familiar voice came through.

"K C 5 Fox Delta Oscar, come in."

"K C 5 Fox Delta Oscar, go ahead," Bobby replied.

"Bobby, it's Dean," the voice said, and Hermione felt tears rise to her eyes from relief. "We got problems."

"It's okay, boy," Bobby said, sharing a glance with Hermione, who moved to stand beside him. "That's why We're here. Is everyone all right?"

"No," Dean replied, and Hermione felt her throat tighten as he went on. "It's… it's Jo. Bobby, it's pretty bad."

"Okay," Bobby sighed. "Copy that. So now we figure out what we do next."

"Bobby, I don't think she's –"

"I said," Bobby started in a stern voice, "what do we do next, Dean?"

"Right," Dean said. "Okay, right."

"Now, tell me what you got."

Hermione brought a chair as Dean recounted what happened since they arrived to the town – how it was seemingly deserted, how Castiel disappeared to follow the Reapers that infested the town, how Meg showed up with hellhounds who attacked them, leading to Jo's current situation.

Hermione took it all in better than she expected to, cutting in every once in a while to ask a question but mostly letting Bobby do the talking.

"Before he went missing, did Cas say how many reapers?" Bobby asked.

"I don't… he said a lot of things, I guess," Dean said. "Does the number matter?"

"Devil's in the details, Dean," Bobby said.

Literally, Hermione thought, but couldn't bring herself to say.

"Bobby, it's Ellen," a new voice came from the speaker.

Hermione didn't think she imagined Ellen's voice was shaking, and she honestly couldn't blame her. As much as she agreed with Jo when they were younger that Ellen could be overprotective sometimes, as a mother she completely understood the sentiment.

She would probably do the same when it came to her own little girl.

"The way he was looking," Ellen went on, "the number of places Castiel's eyes went, I'd say we're talking over a dozen reapers, probably more."

"I don't like the sound of that," Bobby said as Hermione grabbed a book from the table, flipping through it in an attempt to jog her memory.

Why did she know what all those reapers mean?

"Nobody likes the sound of that, Bobby," Dean said, "but what – what does that sound like?"

"Death," Hermione said, finally finding what she was looking for. "And I mean that literally. I think Satan's in town to work a ritual. He's planning to unleash Death."

"You mean, like, as in this dude and taxes are the only sure thing?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"As in Death," Hermione replied. "Capital D and all. The pale horseman in the flesh."

"Unleash?" Dean repeated. "I mean, hasn't Death been tromping all over the place? Hell, I've died several times myself, and so have you."

"Not this guy," Bobby said. "This is the angel of death. Big daddy Reaper. They keep this guy chained in a box six hundred feet under. Last time they hauled him up, Noah was building a boat. That's why the place is crawling with Reapers. They're waiting on the big boss to show."

"You have any other good news?"

"In a manner of speaking," Bobby replied, turning to the computer. "I been researching Carthage since you've been gone, trying to suss out what the devil might want there. What you just said drops the last piece of the puzzle in place. The Angel of Death must be brought into this world at midnight through a place of awful carnage. Now, back during the Civil War, there was a battle in Carthage. A battle so intense the soldiers called it the Battle of Hellhole."

"Where'd the massacre go down?"

"On the land of William Jasper's farm."

"Then that's where we're heading," Dean replied. "Alright, we gotta go now. Thanks."

"You're welcome," Bobby replied, and the line disconnected.

Great, Hermione thought to herself. More waiting.

Jo didn't make it, not that Hermione was really surprised. She knew enough about Hellhounds to have seen it coming.

Ellen stayed with her, right to the end. Living without her daughter was too much for her, so she chose to die with her while earning a few extra minutes for the boys. Hermione wasn't surprised about that, either.

She was surprised that the Colt didn't kill Lucifer.

Apparently, he was one of only five things in the whole universe it couldn't kill.

Because of course he was.

When Sam and Dean finally made it back to the Salvage Yard, Hermione all but jumped on Dean in a bone-crashing hug, which he returned wholly. Under any other circumstances, Sam or Bobby would have had a comment at the ready about the two of them always being all over each other.

As it was, there was only silence.

Hours later found the four of them standing in the living room, Dean's hand wrapped tightly around Hermione as she leaned as close to him as she could, almost scared to let go.

None of them said anything. There were no words for what happened last night.

"– Just received an update that the governor has declared a state of emergency for Paulding County, including the towns of Marion, Fetterville, and Carthage," said a woman on the TV. "The storm system has reportedly touched off a number of tornadoes in the area."

Dean tightened his hold on Hermione, and she leaned even more towards him. Sam was almost shaking. Hermione didn't know what Lucifer told him, but she could understand how no matter what it was, it was sure to unsettle him.

Bobby came over, holding a copy of the picture they took the other night in his hand. They all looked so serious, as if knowing what the next day would bring.

And maybe they did. After all, there was a reason Hermione stayed behind.

"Death tolls have yet to be estimated, but state officials expect the loss of life and property to be staggering."

Bobby let the picture fall from his hand into the fire, where the four of them watched it burn silently.

Later, there might be time to talk about what happened, draw conclusions and plan forwards.

Today, there was only time to grieve.