A/N: For those of you wondering where I've been, well, I got sick one weekend and started watching a show, and now I'm hooked and have plot bunnies attacking me. So I wrote this to get it off my chest so I can move back to my other work.

I do not own Harry Potter or Supernatural.

This work is M for profanity, violence, and adult situations.

"I would ask if that's a gun in your pocket or if you're just happy to see me, but I'm pretty sure it's the former," the brunette said calmly despite being held tightly against the stranger behind her. She had been walking across the bar, headed for the restroom, and was caught by surprise by the strong man grabbing her tightly from behind. If there was any anger in her voice it was because she was upset he managed to catch her off guard, she really did know better.

"Don't play cute with me, witch," Dean Winchester growled in her ear, afraid of speaking above a silent whisper for fear of attracting attention in the dimly lit yet crowded bar. For anyone looking at them the embrace would look intimate, maybe even loving depending on the amount of liquor imbibed by the viewer. "You think I didn't notice your little trick?"

"I refilled my drink, and considering they're horribly overpriced can you blame me? Hardly worth this reaction."

"All witches get this reaction from me, sweetheart. Now you will walk quietly outside with me..."

"So you can put a bullet in me without all the witnesses? Sorry, I'm going to have to decline your invitation," she replied, planting her feet. "Try to move me and I'll scream. If you think you're going to drag me out of a bar filled with fifty half-drunk men without them beating you senseless then you've lost the plot."

"I guess we're at an impasse, then, aren't we? Because I sure as hell am not going to let you go."

"If you give me three seconds, I can prove I'm not one of those demon-made witches. I'm natural born. I have a wand and a badge in my right front pocket."

He turned to study her face, and she turned to look sharply into his eyes. Without breaking eye contact he slid his hand down her body, fingers running down the wood of her wand, until they came across something leather. He pulled it out and flipped it open, looking down to read it.

"MACUSA?" he asked.

"Magical Congress of the USA," she informed him.

"Hermione Granger, Control of Magical Creatures Department, Head of the Supernatural Creatures Division... you're a paid hunter?" he asked in surprise, loosening his grip on her, but not enough that she could get away from him without drawing attention.

"Yes," she nodded, taking the badge and putting it back in her pocket. "A magical hunter, actually."

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked.

"Same thing as you, I bet," she replied, turning so she could shoot him a smirk. "Hunting vampires."

The absurdity of it caused him to chuckle. "You? A witch? Hunting vampires?" he said a little too loudly.

Her eyes darted around to the nearest patrons to see if anyone's ears had perked up, but luckily the music was loud enough no one had overheard him. "What do you think about taking this conversation somewhere a little more private?" she asked.

He hesitated for a moment before asking, "My place or yours?"

"I'm next door."

"Yours, then. Lead the way."

She took his hand, getting close to him as though she had just agreed to a night of uninhibited sex rather than a consultation about vampires, and led him out of the bar and into the hotel next door. They walked to her room, and she didn't hesitate about letting him in.

"Wow, this place is clean," he said, looking around at the large room, where she had neatly pinned up maps, news reports, and other information. "I need to get a paid gig."

"It took me three years to convince MACUSA that this was a worthy profession, before that I was a regular field worker in the Control of Magical Creatures department. It took a demon possessing a witch and killing half a dozen people for them to take me seriously, and once that happened I had my department before the funerals were over."

"How many people are in your department?" he asked.

"Me," she smiled back. "I had an assistant, he quit after the first vengeful spirit we went after. No one has applied since. By the way, I'm Hermione Granger. I know you read that on my badge, but I thought we should formally introduce ourselves now that we're not threatening each other."

"Dean Winchester," he nodded, before turning to study her map.

"That's as close as I've gotten to the nest," she said, coming to stand next to him, pointing to a circle she had drawn. "But it's back country where few people go, with at least thirty different natural and man-made structures in it, and, to be honest, I'm not sure I'm going in the right direction with things. I was hoping to get a tracing spell on one of them tonight, but I guess my intel was bad."

"They are slippery bastards," he agreed. "And if your information was bad, so was mine, since we wound up at the same spot. I didn't even get this close in narrowing things down. I just heard about those two bodies and came around to see what I could find. Who are these three?" he asked, pointed at three missing persons reports.

"We're close to the Appalachian trail," she said, tapping her map, and a large trail with several smaller ones started glowing yellow. "These three people were traveling the trail together. They stopped checking in a week ago, and the last shelter they signed in at is twenty three miles from here."

"That's pretty far away. What makes you think the vampires are involved?"

"Most of the space between here and there is a cell phone dead zone, but there are enough spots with reception that they could have checked in or pinged or something. They should have made the next shelter a long time ago, but they haven't signed in at any shelter since that last one."

"Don't people go missing on that trail all the time?" he asked.

"Not as often as you'd think. Three million people do at least a one-day hike on that trail every year, with over two thousand thru-hikers on an average year. Of those there are very few people who go missing, and fewer still who meet violent ends."

"You do know the implication, right? Thousands of hikers on that trail, there's no incentive for the vampires to stay put."

"There's more incentive than you'd think, actually," she replied. "That many people on the trail means that many eyes who will notice a group traveling at night and sheltering during the day. And vampires don't usually like the kind of nomadic lifestyle that traveling the trail would mean, since they'd have to keep up appearances. People on this trail talk, and vampires need people to be quiet to keep from being detected."

He turned and studied her. "You know a lot about vampires," he muttered.

"They aren't unknown to witches and wizards. One even attended a Christmas party I went to. There are loads of books about them, I must have read at least a dozen."

"So you know how to kill them, then?"

"Well, there's a way for witches and wizards to do it that's much quicker and easier than the muggle way, which is to cut their heads off. You can weaken them with dead man's blood, which is an absolutely fascinating reaction if you actually start reading about it..."

He couldn't stop from chuckling.

"What?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You just remind me of... someone. Someone who had no interest in this lifestyle."

"Really? Someone saw the job description of going after things that want to kill you with a job peril of being possessed by a demon and decided it wasn't for them? I can't imagine," she raised an eyebrow, but the corner of her lips curled up as well in a vain attempt to hide her smile.

"Well, when you put it that way..." he couldn't help but smile back. "So, what's the plan?"

"The plan,at the moment, is to make a plan, because I don't have any idea what my next step should be," she admitted. "I really don't want something else to happen because it means that someone gets hurt, but I'm also afraid that there's no real way we're going to get a meaningful lead without another body."

"We could make a lead," he suggested.

"What do you mean?"

"Go out to this area," he indicated her circle on the map, "and have a look around, then make ourselves somewhat available targets to see if we can't draw them in."

"Oh, good, it's been a while since I've been bait for something," she muttered darkly.

"But the experience isn't new?" he looked at her in surprise.

"Not exactly. I once gave a werewolf call to draw one away from... my friends. Except I didn't think it through well enough and it started coming after me."

"What did you think would happen?"

"Give me a break, I was fourteen at the time!" she sighed.

His eyes went wide as he studied her for a moment. She had a pretty face, but upon closer look her eyes seemed older and harder than those of someone who was mid-twenties as she appeared, and worry-lines crossed her forehead. Her hair was pulled back into a tight braid, but the strands that had escaped were frizzy and stuck out in odd directions. She had a few visible scars, what hunter doesn't? But the one across her chest looked somewhere between a cut and a burn and there seemed to be a few letters carved into her arm poking out of the bottom of her sleeve. She had obviously spent a fair amount of time in the field, and had that look he had seen about so many hunters before her.

"You tangled with werewolves at fourteen?" he sounded impressed.

"Tangled is a strong word," she bit her lip. "He was my professor."

"Your teacher was a werewolf?" he nearly shouted. "What the hell kind of school did you go to?"

"One for witches and wizards," she replied nonchalantly. "And in my world werewolves can take a potion and become safe. One of the reasons I came over to this country was to study the differences between European and American werewolves and see if Wolfsbane potion works on the American sort."

"There's a difference?" he asked, suddenly curious.

"Yes," she nodded. "European werewolves come from an older bloodline, and have much more wolfish features during the full moon. They also don't go for hearts, but rather just tend to maim whoever has the misfortune to cross their path during the transformation, except when that werewolf takes the Wolfsbane potion, at which point he still transforms, but they keep their wits about them and don't hurt anyone. European werewolf transformations are completely lunar-cycle driven, they don't need to fulfill some sort of bloodlust to stop the transformations for the month, and staying awake isn't going to pause the cycle. Remus, my former professor, came over to the states with me to work with the werewolves over here."

"So you brought a werewolf over here with you?"

"Well, of course, he knows much more about them than I do, and he was a big help when I was still doing that. He still does work with werewolves, mostly doing a census and helping exterminate problems. It's nice having someone to share the rent, too."

"Wait, you live with a werewolf?"

"He's not dangerous, because he takes Wolfsbane religiously. Though we gave up on trying to keep a functional vacuum cleaner around the house."

An impressed look crossed his features, before it dropped back into his normal mask devoid of emotion. "So... this potion. Does it work on the werewolves over here?" he asked.

"Not sure," she admitted. "European werewolves are a tighter-knit group. You get in with one, you can get the names of others. If you put it out there that there's a way to tame themselves during their transformation and many will come looking for you. Younger American werewolves are more solitary and have the amnesia problem. By the time I find one it's usually a matter of taking them down before they kill someone. I haven't managed to find one in a state where I can try to convince them to try the potion. But the purebloods either don't need it, they can and do get by on animal hearts, or they don't want it, at which point I don't have much of a choice. Either way they have an extreme mistrust of witches and wizards, and the nice ones show me the door while the others chase me out of it," she finished, sounding somewhat defeated. "It's why I branched out to other supernatural beings. If I couldn't help in one aspect I was going to help in another."

"If you stopped the ones you had to kill from killing people you did help," he pointed out firmly.

She shot him a sad smile. "Hunters," she said knowingly. "It's a lot more black and white for you. A werewolf is a monster that kills, and therefore you kill it before it can kill someone innocent. It's that simple, and you don't really have another option. But I spent years knowing a werewolf. I knew he is a kind, gentle soul who wants to help people and is devastated when he thinks he was negatively impacting someone. He does everything he could to make himself safe. Its showed me that werewolves are human every other night than the full moon, and it makes it that much harder when I have to kill one because I know I'm snuffing out a life that is normal most of the time."

"Never met a bleeding heart hunter before," he scoffed. "No offense, sweetheart, but this isn't really the profession for it."

"You'd be surprised how far a little compassion can go," she retorted.

"Do you show every creature you come across mercy?" he shot back.

"If by 'mercy' you mean 'end it quickly and painlessly if possible', then yes," she snapped.

He rolled his eyes and turn back to the map. "So, do you want to check these structures together or separately?"

"Wouldn't hurt to go together, but it would probably be best to wait until morning."

"Why should we wait?" he asked almost angrily. "There could be three people in danger!"

"Exactly. Three people. That indicates a large group. I don't know about you, but I would rather have an idea of what we're going up against before we go up against it, and that means doing recognizance during the day. If we go stumbling into the wrong place too soon they may kill those hikers so they can leave quickly."

He stared at her, but grudgingly admitted she was right. "I'll pick you up tomorrow morning at nine," he muttered.

"I'll be out front," she nodded.

He looked her over one more time before he left, and when he caught sight of her face he realized she was looking at him, too, biting her lip in a way he immediately found sexy as hell, and he found himself standing a little straighter. Without a good-bye he turned and walked out the door, taking the stairs down and not even glancing at the smiling desk attendant before walking out. He threw himself into his car and immediately pulled out his phone, dialing a familiar number.

"Yeah?" a groggy voice answered.

"Bobby, I need information," he said.

"What's up?" Bobby Singer replied, suddenly sounding more awake.

"Have you ever heard about wizards and witches that were born that way?"

Bobby was silent for a moment. "Yeah, actually, I have. It's old lore, Dean, real old, but there are lots of accounts throughout history. Up until the fifteenth century they might even be called somewhat friendly, though by the end of the seventeenth century there's not much."

"They went bad?"

"More like they went away."

"What happened?" Dean asked, curious.

"Not sure exactly what, but the short answer is witch hunts. Long answer? I think people got greedy. Wanted magical remedies to everything. Big shit went down, shit like the plague, and witches and wizards didn't, or more likely couldn't, stop it. I think the wizards got sick of being persecuted and went underground."

"Were there a lot of them?"

"Hard to tell. Enough that there's lore all over the world," he could hear the shrug in the older man's voice.

"Enough for a government?"

"Probably. As I said, they kind of dropped off the radar after the mid seventeenth century. If they went underground who knows how many are around. Why you askin'? I thought that job out there was vampires."

"It is," he said quickly.

"Did you come across a witch?"

Dean hesitated. "No," he lied. "Just some local rumors about some weird old lady. I thought I'd ask someone before heading out that way."

"Well, if you think she is you better be careful, boy. Those wand-carriers can go kill you before you realized they've gotten out their wand, and ain't nobody gonna find 'em after."

"So, they're bad?"

"Doubt it, but who knows? I'm assuming if there's enough for a government they aren't all bad, but that doesn't mean that stick isn't powerful shit you'd be best off not messin' with."

Dean sighed and glanced back up at Hermione's room. He could see her silhouette on the window, and knew she was marking a few places on her map. "Any idea how you might kill one?"

"No clue. They're human, so a bullet should do it, but the problem might be actually getting a bullet to meet their body. You'd have to catch them off guard and preferably without their wand."

"Thanks, Bobby."

"Be careful," Bobby replied before hanging up.

He glanced one more time up at the window, and sucked in a breath. The silhouette was peeling off her shirt, tossing it casually aside before doing the same with the bra. He couldn't tear his eyes away until she walked away from the window. He took a deep breath and tried to ignore the blood pooling in his groin before turning the Impala on and gunning it out of the parking lot.

At five after nine the next morning he pulled back up to the hotel to see Hermione standing outside, waiting for him. She smiled as she bounded up to the car and let herself in, placing a small beaded bag on the floorboard between her feet before buckling.

"That's all you're bringing?" he asked, looking suspiciously at the bag.

"Looks can be deceiving," she replied, opening a map. "It looks like we're going about twelve miles north, and taking a right at some road that doesn't have much of a name."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, pulling out of the parking lot and taking a hard right. There was a loud crashing sound from inside the bag which caused him to jump and jerk the wheel, causing the car to swerve momentarily before he managed to right it.

"Damn," she muttered, pulling the bag up and peering inside. "One of these days I'll remember to magic those blasted books in place so they stop falling over." She pulled her wand out of her pocket, pointed it into the bag, and there were several thumps. She muttered a few more spells as he stared at her in disbelief.

"You have books in that thing?" he finally asked.

"Only a few books on the Appalachian trail, local information, and, of course, information on vampires," she replied.

"Anything else in that bag, Mary Poppins?"

"Clothes, first aid supplies, my hunting supplies, a tent..."

"A tent?" he half shouted, half chuckled. "What the hell do you need a tent for?"

"You never know, and in this line of work that statement holds even more true. If I need to get out in a hurry but need to stay in an area a tent is a good way to have a place to stay while also being able to be hidden."

"Except you have to sleep in a tent."

"It's really not that bad. It's actually better than some of the hotel rooms I've stayed in."

He didn't really have an argument to that, seeing as he had stayed in some really terrible rooms, so he asked, "So, when you stopped focusing on werewolves and started hunting, why stay over here? You're British, right? I know there are things to hunt over there, so it's not like you have to be here to do this job. Don't you have family and friends in jolly old England?"

"I do," she replied softly. "I just had too much going on over there. So I packed up and made a new start of it, and I do love traveling all over the country."

He could tell there was much more to the story, but as they rounded the corner they saw several police cars and a coroner's van congregated on the side of the road. Dean slowed and pulled over, and other than a single officer who eyed the Impala no one seemed to pay them much heed.

"Think it's worth checking out?" he asked.

"Yes," she nodded.

"Take my lead," he muttered, opening the glove box and taking out his fake FBI badge.

"FBI?" she asked.

"Just roll with it. You'd be surprised how often it works."

She rolled her eyes and got out of the car, approaching an officer setting up a road block.

"You're going to have to go back, folks," the officer said.

"Actually, we're..." Dean started, but Hermione cut him off.

"Federal agents," she said, holding up a badge of her own, and from the corner of his eye Dean could see it looked legitimate.

The officer scrutinized the badge for a moment before grunting. "They called in the feds?"

"We're actually working the case of the missing hikers," she replied. "We were heading back to headquarters, he's supposed to go on vacation tomorrow, when we came across this. Seeing as how you have a body there, we were wondering if there was a connection."

"Looks like you're going to have to cut your trip short there, buddy," he said, moving the barrier aside and waving them through. "We've got two bodies, just found the second five minutes ago, and they match the descriptions of two of your missing," he said, pointing them towards a sheet on the ground. "Something did a hell of a number on them. Frankie! Feds are here!" he called.

A shorter woman with a single brown braid flecked with gray turned and smiled at them before climbing up the embankment and extending a hand towards Hermione.

"Sheriff Malone," she said, sounding exhausted.

"Agent Granger, and this is Agent Winchester," Hermione replied with a quick smile and a firm handshake.

"You two look a little casual to be feds," she said, scrutinizing their jeans and t-shirts.

"Well, this was supposed to be our off-day," Dean replied. "We actually sort of stumbled on the scene by accident."

"Right," the Sheriff nodded. "So, I assume you've been told we have two?" she asked.

"That's pretty much all we got, except that they're in rough shape," he replied.

"Rough shape is putting it mildly," she sighed, turning back and leading them down towards the body. "Something tore them apart. We've got bite marks from who knows what all over them. Coroner isn't even trying to count the number here, just letting us take pictures and evidence before taking them back for the full examination." She lifted the sheet on the body just enough for them to get a look. Hermione crouched down and studied some of the bite marks.

"These smaller ones, they could be animal," she muttered.

"They've been dead at least two days, according to the doc up there. If they've been out here, I don't doubt something would take advantage. And it's the larger bites that seem to have done the most damage."

"Obviously," Dean grumbled.

"Two days, you said?" Hermione asked.

"Give or take a few hours," the sheriff shrugged.

"They went missing a week ago. So someone sure took their time with them," she shot a look at Dean.

"You think a person did this?" she raised an eyebrow. "Looks pretty animal to me."

"The bites finished them off, but we're, what? A mile off the trail?" she asked. "And a hundred yards on the wrong side of the highway. If they were lost and looking for a way back to civilization why cross the highway, especially with the sign right there saying it's two miles into town? Doesn't really make sense for lost campers, make much more sense as a dumping ground."

"Shit," she swore. "Last thing I need is some fucking sadist with access to bloodthirsty animals. Don't suppose you have any leads?"

"I wish we did," she sighed. "Could you take him to the other body, please? I'm going to get a closer look at some of these wounds."

"Down here," the sheriff motioned for Dean to follow her down a small hill. As soon as they were gone Hermione pulled out a camera and took a few photos of her own, and was scribbling something in her journal when they came back up the hill.

"Second verse, same as the first," Dean said.

"Have your men found anything?" Hermione asked the sheriff.

"No," she shook her head. "I'm hoping that once they get a better look at the bodies they'll come up with something, because we've got squat here and a whole lot of woods in which someone could hide or escape."

"If you find anything, please give me a call," Hermione said, producing a business card.

"Will do. I've got two men heading out to notify the families, unless you want to take that over?"

"No, ma'am," she shook her head. "We'll let you handle that. We're going to go see if the location gives us any clues we might be missing."

"Right. I'll call you," she nodded before turning to wave the coroner's gurney down.

"We've still got one more out there," Dean muttered as they climbed back up the embankment and started towards the car.

"Not sure if that's a good or a bad sign," she replied.

"It'll probably mean they're interested in finding fresh blood," he pointed out.

"I guess we're playing bait tonight," she sighed.

"Got that tent up, yet, honey?" he called as he crouched near a small fire pit, poking the kindling he had managed to light in an attempt to keep it lit.

"It would go a little quicker if someone around here managed to remember chivalry is a thing, love," she shot back, the last word dripping with sarcasm.

"Someone's got to start the fire," he replied, smiling as he looked over. She was bent over, hammering a stake into the ground, giving him a clear view of her ass. And, despite the fact that they were working together, and that he still wasn't completely comfortable with the fact that she was a witch, he had to admit she was good looking. Especially from this angle. Despite being nearly a head shorter than he was there was little doubt that years of hunting left her able to physically defend herself, as she had an overall athletic figure. After finding out Hermione was also a hunter he had a hard time filing that under 'female' in his mind, as hunters tended to be sorted into the "people to call on for help" part of his brain, and not the "for a good time call" bit. And he would be the first to admit that when he was looking for a girl "bookish", "brainy", and "casual" were not exactly near the top of his list, but the longer he spent with Hermione the more he realized she really was an attractive woman. In the back of his mind he could hear his father start berating him for even thinking it, the girl was a witch goddamn it, and you don't trust anything that isn't 100% normal human, and even then trust is something you put in very few people. Letting some random girl get this close would be an idiotic lapse of judgment worthy of a stern lecture, but letting a witch this close? John would consider it his biggest mistake since he had left Sammy alone in that hotel room.

"And a good job you're doing of it," Hermione smirked as she turned around and shot a pointed look at the barely-smoking pile.

"I wasn't expecting to have to play boy scout," he replied with a frown.

"It doesn't mean you have to be helpless," she looked around and, when assured they were alone, flicked her wand at the pile, causing him to jump back as a fire roared to life.

"Showoff," he muttered, standing up and sauntering to the tent just as she finished hammering in the final stake. He pulled back the flap and peered in.

"I seriously hope they come get us before we have to spend the night in there," he grumbled, looking at the worn down camp pads and threadbare sleeping bags.

"Nobody likes a whiner," she said, pushing past him to go in, and lifting the camping pad on the right, revealing a set of stairs. She started walking down them before turning and looking up at him. "Coming?" she asked.

He patted the gun in his pocket before starting down the stairs, and felt his jaw drop as the room below was revealed. It looked like the inside of a nice cabin, a large bed, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a sitting area.

"No fucking way," he said, looking around. "How the hell did you do this?"

"I bought it like this, but magic, obviously," she replied with a smile. "Do you approve?"

"I would seriously consider camping if it were more like this," he nodded, but then noticed one problem. "One bed?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Couch," she said matter-of-factly, pointing to the plush couch near an old-fashioned wood burning stove.

"Got it," he replied, tossing his rucksack on the couch. "So, now what's the plan?"

"Go up top, make it look like we're camping away from the trail for a little alone time, see if they come to us. Oh, and have a drink or two," she added, producing a six-pack from the fridge.

"Now you're speaking my language," he smiled. "After you."

They went up top where she had set up two folding chairs and a cooler by the fire. She handed him a beer and sat next to him as he popped the top, then reached over to open hers.

"Cold beer... my favorite kind of magic," he sighed after taking a long drink.

"Have you ever met a hunter who didn't drink like a fish?" she asked.

"Nope," he shook his head. "When you see the shit we see it's hard not to try to find a coping mechanism, and alcohol is available everywhere and cheaper than a therapist."

"I guess you're right," she shrugged before taking a drink herself. "I haven't even thought of going to a therapist. That's not exactly something the wizarding world has."

"Really?" he raised an eyebrow. "You have people that can wave wands around and do God knows what with them but you don't have mental health professionals?"

"If you're really in bad shape then there are people, but, no, they don't have just someone you can talk to. I considered going to school for that, you know. Muggle, er, non-magical school, then opening practice in the magical world. I thought it might be needed after... everything we went through."

He looked at her expectantly, and she caught his eye, studying him for a long moment before looking into the fire.

"War," she answered his unasked question softly.

"War? You're, like, twenty-three!"

"Twenty-seven, and it doesn't matter. I was in that war before I was of-age, I didn't have much of a choice." She took a long drink before elaborating, "Just because we're not demon-born witches doesn't mean that there aren't some magical people who don't go bad. And there was one, when I was very young, who went as bad as they come. And he was magically tied to my best friend, Harry, which meant Harry had to be the one who finished him, and, because I'm too bloody loyal for my own good, I was caught up in the war that ensued."

"So you had to take down some bad dude?"

"We had to take down much more than that. What we had to face led me to this job. They're called Horcruxes."

"Never heard of them."

"You wouldn't," she shook her head and took a drink. "No one outside the magical world has, and even most in it hadn't until Harry's story came out. When you commit murder, real cold-hearted murder, you damage your soul. If you're magical you can tear the damaged piece from the rest and trap it in an object, making yourself functionally immortal until that object is magically destroyed."

"Wow," he exhaled. "And the bad guy you had to fight made one of those?"

"No... he made seven."

"Seven?!" he nearly shouted, and Hermione nodded. "But, you killed him, right? He's not out there?"

"He's dead. It took a while, but we tracked down those Horcruxes and destroyed them one by one, and then Harry finished the job by killing the wizard."

"And after that you decided to switch to hunting?"

"I guess part of me liked hunting for those things and trying to destroy them, and when I'm in the field that's kind of what I do, except it doesn't take months. I spent a while after the war searching for that same feeling, and I didn't really get it until I was chasing what I thought was a werewolf and it turned out to be a spirit that drove dogs to kill people. That's when I started looking into things on my own time, at first to get rid of the spirit, but then because it was so interesting and something I hadn't looked into before, and I started pestering MACUSA to let me chase these things professionally. As I said before, it wasn't until it was proven these things could be a threat to witches and wizards that my request was granted."

"Why didn't you follow the tried and true hunter path of doing it on your own?"

"Because I'm not a fan of credit card fraud and hustling to pay for my nomadic lifestyle, and because I knew that the first Muggle hunter I encountered who realized what I was would try to kill me," she shot him a pointed look, "and I thought it would be good to have MACUSA behind me to help me out if I had to do magic to get out of that situation."

"Can you blame me?" he shot her a smile. "All my life I've been told people like you are bad, and that I need to kill everything supernatural."

"All your life?" she looked surprised, handing him another beer.

"Well, since I was four."

"You've been hunting since you were four?" she asked in surprise.

"Well, not me. Dad was, and he taught me when I was old enough. But he dragged us around, teaching me the tricks of the trade, until I was old enough to join him on hunts, and he eventually sent me out on my own, which brings me here."

"Was there ever a time where you didn't want to follow in his footsteps?"

"Of course there was," he nodded. "I wanted to be a rock star or, more realistically, a mechanic. But I started this, and now I can't see myself doing anything else."

She didn't say anything as she went to get another round of drinks.

"What about you?" he asked. "Is this your long term career plan?"

"It is for now," she replied. "I guess when I'm too old or incapacitated to do it I'll do the desk job everyone thought I was going to."

"Settle down? Have a family?"

"Merlin, I don't know," she sighed. "My friends are already in that stage of life where they're getting married and having children, hell, I live with Remus' son Teddy, and while I love being around the kids I just don't have that desire for my own like some people insist I will be having. A relationship, maybe, it would be nice to have someone to share a bed with, but I know there's no way I could reconcile having this job and a child, so if I ever start a family I'm going to have to give up hunting. It's not something I'm willing to give up right now. I have time to change my mind if I want."

They sat in silence for a while, until Hermione stood up to add another log on the fire and frown at the night sky. "I hope we're not on the wrong path here."

"We're committed to the night," he shrugged. "In a bit I'll go check the scanners, see if anything has popped up, and you gave the sheriff your number, so if there's something else she'll call you."

"Sounds like a plan. I've got some food in the tent, mostly tinned stuff, but it's edible. Are you hungry?"

"Only always," he smiled.

"I'll go see what I can scrounge up," she flashed him a smile before starting to walk past him.

He didn't know what possessed him to reach out and grab her, it was as though his hand acted of its own accord, but the next thing he knew he was pulling her onto his lap. He looked up at her in surprise, his face apologetic, but she was biting her lip again and there was a faint blush on her cheeks, and she didn't try to get up. He reached up, fingers running over her cheek, using his thumb to pull her lip from her teeth. He gave her a smile which she returned, and he moved his hand to the back of her head, pulling her towards him, his lips just meeting hers...

"I'm sorry. Are we interrupting something?" a voice caused them to quickly turn, and they saw three people approaching them from behind the tent. Hermione and Dean exchanged a look. They had both seen it, the strange way the newcomers' eyes lit when the fire hit it just right. There was no question the intruders were vampires.

"Yeah, actually, you are," Dean snapped as Hermione slipped off his lap. He moved defensively in front of her, and he felt her press his machete, which he had stashed next to the wood pile, into his hand.

The three exchanged glances and chuckles as if Dean's frustrated reaction were funny. "We didn't mean to intrude," the one who had spoken before, a tall man wearing a faded t-shirt of a heavy metal band, held up his hands. "We're just a little... lost."

"And hungry," the second, a petite female, added.

"We saw the fire and thought you could help us out," the last, a shorter, muscular male finished.

"Town's about three miles that way," Dean said, pointing past the Impala. "Follow the tire tracks and you'll be back on the road in ten minutes."

"We think you have what we need," the first male smirked.

"Oh, well, sorry, buddy, that was your last chance," Dean replied, pulling the machete out.

They laughed again, and started to advance.

"Bloody hell, I hate banter," Hermione sighed. She pointed her wand at the first male and a jet of green light erupted from the tip, hitting him square in the chest. There was a strange hissing sound and the vampire crumpled to the ground, coming to rest in a grotesque contortion of limbs.

For a moment no one moved, all eyes on Hermione, who was still holding out her wand. Dean was wide-eyed, and it was only the wand moving again that reminded him that they were still in the middle of things. Hermione hit the female vampire with something that caused her to go stiff and fall backwards, but the movement of her terrified eyes showed she was still alive. The second male decided to fight, launching himself at Hermione and Dean, and Dean took one step forward, away from Hermione, and took his head off with one smooth motion. He walked to the female, lifting the machete, when Hermione's voice stopped him.

"Wait! We need her to lead us to the nest!" she cried.

"You think she's going to tell us?" he raised an eyebrow.

"I think she'll have no choice," she replied, pointing her wand at the female. "Ready to go?"

"Let's do it," he nodded.

An almost imperceptible shimmer went from Hermione's wand to the female, and the vampire's eyes immediately went out of focus. Like a robot she stood, turned away from them, and started walking through the woods.

"What's the plan?" Hermione asked as they followed closely behind.

"Kill vampires," he replied simply, as though the answer were obvious.

"So, we're going into a nest at night?"

"I think they're going to notice that three of their friends aren't returning, don't you? If they follow the scent it'll lead them right to our campsite. The best defense is a good offense, I want to engage them when they're caught unaware, not wait all night until they manage to devise a plan and attack. We still don't know how many are left."

"I would have preferred to wait until daybreak," she sighed.

"Improvising is nine tenths of this job, sweetheart," he shot back.

She shot him a look, but trudged on in silence. Luckily the moon was up and nearly full, casting enough light through the clear sky to illuminate their path well enough they didn't need to use flashlights or wandlight which might betray their approach. They walked fifteen minutes in silence before the female stopped short about fifty yards away from an older looking, but decently maintained house. A single vampire sat on the porch, strumming a guitar, and they could see at least three silhouettes moving inside.

"I'll put them under body-bind curses, you can do the dirty work," Hermione whispered.

"Can't you just hit them with that green light?" he hissed.

"For all we know that hiker is still alive in there. If she is, I refuse to go in there firing lethal curses, and I refuse to fire any in the direction of the house. I could hit her."

"Fine. We'll do it your way," he sighed, and he tensed as the vampire on the porch suddenly stopped playing and looked in their direction. "Fuck, spotted," he muttered, holding the machete at the ready. The vampire let off a cry as he started running their direction, and Dean quickly cut off the head of the female who had led them to the nest and started toward the advancing male, but another jet of green light passed by him and hit the male in the chest, dropping him immediately. Three other vampires appeared on the porch, taking stock of the situation.

"Michael!" one cried, and started running towards them. Hermione and Dean ran towards the group, and when they got close to the advancing female Hermione cast a Petrificus Totalus and she went rigid. After making sure she wasn't the missing hiker Dean took her head off as Hermione ran past him towards the others. She cast two more body-binds on the other two vampires, one of whom had attempted to flee while the other had tried to fight, and, without waiting for Dean, entered the house. Dean swore, taking care of the other two vampires before entering the house behind her. She wasn't in the first room, and he carefully moved through, checking around corners before entering. He didn't find anyone until he came to the back bedroom, where Hermione was bent over the female hiker, running her wand over her while murmuring incantations furiously.

"She's alive," she managed. "But in bad shape."

"What do we do?" he asked, scanning the woman's body, where he could see several bite marks that ranged from fresh to a few days old.

"I have a few things in my bag..." she started, grabbing it and sticking her arm in to the shoulder, coming up with a few bottles. She tipped potions into the girl's mouth and cast a few more spells, then went white as the girl seemed to go limp.

"No!" she cried throwing herself on the girl. "Just a few more seconds for it to work..." she muttered as she knelt over the woman, starting chest compressions.

"What do I do?" Dean asked, mouth dry.

"Call the Sheriff," Hermione shot back. "Get help out here."

Dean hesitated, he didn't want to be anywhere near here when the police descended, but Hermione was determined to save the girl and he wasn't about to sabotage her. He pulled out his cell phone, said a silent thanks for having reception, and dialed 911 as he rushed through the house as he tried to find a hint as to where they actually are. He found a social security check in the kitchen and tried not to think about how that hinted there might be more missing people than he originally thought, and relayed the information to the emergency operator.

"It's going to be about twenty minutes," he said as he rushed back into the room, and he stopped short. Hermione was sitting next to the woman, looking exhausted, but smiling and murmuring comforting words as the woman slowly came back to.

"It's alright, we're not one of them," she was saying. "We're here to help you. We got rid of them, they're dead, all of them."

The woman started sobbing, and Hermione stroked her hair gently. "It'll be alright. The police and the ambulance are on their way, we'll stay until they get here, you're going to be okay."

Dean leaned against the door frame, his mind racing. In less than twenty minutes the police would pull up. They would have five dead bodies on the property, four of which had been decapitated, with him covered in blood and his prints all over the machete used to kill them. Hermione had a fair amount of blood on her, too, and they had no real reason to be out at the house.

"Come sit with her," Hermione said suddenly. "I need to do some clean-up."

"No!" the woman said weakly, grabbing onto Hermione's jacket. "Don't go."

"It's okay," she reassured the woman. "This is Dean. He decapitates vampires for a living. He'll make sure you're alright."

The woman looked terrified, but Hermione gently disentangled herself and stood up, stepping out of the room. As Dean took her place he watched Hermione step into the next room and wave her wand, producing a silver, glowing otter which stood at attention as Hermione said something to it, then disappeared in a flash. Hermione was gone after that, hurrying out of the house. He did his best to reassure the woman while also trying to see what was going on, getting more anxious as time passed. When he heard the sirens approach it was all he could do to keep from running from the house, wondering if Hermione had abandoned him to take the blame for everything and come up with a plausible story, but she entered the room again, pointing her wand at the victim, whose eyes slipped out of focus.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Follow my lead," she hissed, hastily stashing her wand as the door opened.

"In here!" she called, and moments later a couple police officers hurried into the room.

"What's going on in here?" one asked.

"We found her like this. She's hurt badly, but stable for the moment," Hermione replied.

"Ma'am?" the other asked, crouching by the woman and shining a flashlight in her eyes. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes," the woman replied groggily.

"We've got the paramedics coming in," the first officer said to Hermione and Dean. "Could you please wait outside?"

"Yes, sir," Dean said, grabbing Hermione's hand and taking her outside. As soon as he got out there he had to keep the look of surprise from his face. There were half a dozen other officers already on site, congregated around two areas, the female's body at the edge of the woods, and the body of the vampire Hermione had hit with the spell still where it fell but now with a large knife in his heart, with three massive, decapitated dogs where the other three vampires had been killed. A female officer seemingly appeared out of nowhere in front of Hermione, and to Dean's surprise she smiled at him.

"Got yourself in a bit of a pickle, huh, Granger?" the woman smiled kindly.

"I would have been gone, as usual, if that hiker weren't still alive or if I thought she'd survive until the police showed up," Hermione replied.

"Say no more," she nodded as two EMTs ran into the house. "I heard about those hikers on the Muggle news. Are the other two...?"

"Dead," Hermione shook her head. "They were found earlier today."

She exhaled. "Not surprised, but sorry. You alright, Granger?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Part of the job, I guess."

"So, what do you need?"

"I'm going to need a medical examiner to think that the stab wound on the one man was the obvious cause of death, since the blood evidence isn't going to bear that out. I'm going to need the medical examiner and some doctors to decide that some non-canine dog bites were made by dogs. And I'm going to need a few officers to forget that Dean and I presented ourselves as FBI agents and think instead that we were hikers intended to be the next victims who managed to get a hold of a couple knives and save ourselves."

"Is that all? You're making life easy for me, Granger," she sighed.

"And I did an Obliviate charm on the victim, but we should probably make sure I did it properly. I had next to no time after transfiguring the bodies and staging the scene."

"You know, if you hadn't just taken out five vampires..."

"Seven," she pointed out. "We left two dead about a half mile away."

"Just the two of you?" she looked impressed.

"We're just that talented," Hermione smiled.

"Get off your high horse, Granger," she said sternly, but with a smile. They looked over together and saw a police car with three officers arrive, one of which gave them a little wave as they climbed out. "I guess we've got it from here. You should probably make yourself scarce before we start working."

"Yes, ma'am," Hermione nodded.

"One more thing. Him?" she looked from Hermione to Dean.

"I'll do it," she replied quickly.

The woman stared at her for a long moment. "How come I don't believe you?" she huffed, her face stern but her eyes mischievous.

"I am insulted!" Hermione scoffed. "To think I wouldn't follow MACUSA protocol..."

"Oh, you're starting to do that now?"

Hermione smiled, but quickly dropped her face into a careful mask of contrition. "You know, he is a hunter. It's probably best he knows about us, so he doesn't try to kill one of us one day."

"You are pushing it, Granger."

"But that doesn't sound like a 'do it or it'll be your job'."

She shook her head twice. "The report on this incident better be on my desk by five o'clock tomorrow. Get out of here."

"Yes, ma'am!" Hermione nodded, before grabbing Dean's hand and pulling him quickly into the woods back towards the tent.

"What are you supposed to do to me?" Dean asked when they were well away from the house.

"Modify your memory so you don't remember me or anything to do with magic," she replied, lighting her wand and holding it out to illuminate their path.

For a moment he felt like he had been punched in the gut, but then he remembered what Hermione had said. "But you don't plan to?" he asked.

"Remember how we met in the bar?" she shot him a smile. "I knew what you were and I knew what to say to get you to at least pause. Someone else might have reacted poorly, and things could have gotten ugly. If you're going to be out there hunting the supernatural, you should know about things like us."

"Are you planning on telling all the hunters?" he asked.

"I don't intend to test how bullet-proof I am, so no," she replied. "Even with my admission last night I knew there was a good chance of you reacting poorly, and I was ready to cut and run from the whole situation if I had to."

"I'm glad you didn't," he replied softly.

"Me, too," she smiled.

When they got back to the campsite Dean noticed she had already gotten rid of the two bodies they had left behind. The fire was about dead, and she poked it a few times to get just enough flames going to bathe the area in dim light. Then she walked up to him, wand out, and for a moment he thought she had been lying about not modifying his memory, but instead she ran it over his clothes, cleaning off the blood he had forgotten was there, before doing the same to herself. They stood in front of each other in silence for a long moment, unsure of what else to say.

"Thank you for your help," she finally broke the silence in a near whisper. "I don't think I could have done that alone."

"Right back at you," he replied. "I think about six is my limit," he added in a joking voice, and she smiled and bit her lip in that sexy way that he secretly started to love.

"I know it's late, and you probably want to get some sleep. But maybe... we'll met up again," she said, glancing over at the Impala.

"Actually, I think we have some unfinished business from earlier," he replied, and before she could say anything he took her into his arms and kissed her. She sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck, letting his lips lead hers as he deepened the kiss. The longer they kissed the tighter he held her, and she finally broke away to take a quick breath.

"How about I extinguish that fire and we retire?" she murmured.

"To the couch?" he asked cheekily.

"If that's your preference. I usually prefer a bed, but I'm flexible," she replied, sliding from his arms. She extinguished the fire with a stream of water from her wand, then put up a few protective wards so they wouldn't be disturbed. With a quick smile at him she led him into the tent, lifting the camping pad and disappearing down the steps. He pulled the pad back in place before following her, kicking off his boots as she removed her shoes and stood by the bed, doing the lip-bite that was starting to drive him wild. He covered the space between them in two quick strides, pulling her roughly to him and crashing his lips into hers as she pressed her body into his and responded enthusiastically. Kissing her was divine, something he could easily lose himself in for hours, but she was already pushing off his jacket and clearly had no intentions of leaving things with just kissing. He pushed her jacket off her shoulders and lifted her shirt up, breaking away from her long enough to lift it, then his over their heads. This time when he kissed her he lifted her up by the rear, wrapping her legs around his middle, and taking a few steps to push her into the wall. His lips trailed from hers, taking his time kissing her neck and shoulders and being rewarded as her hips bucked against his. Her head fell back against the wall, her lips open in silent moans as his mouth moved further down, one hand sliding behind her back to deftly unclasp her bra and pull it from her. When his tongue met her first peak she let off a sigh of contentment, her fingernails digging into the skin of his shoulders as she thrust her chest closer toward him, desperate for his touch. It took all his willpower to keep a slow pace, to carefully draw pleasure from her, knowing that in the end his patience would pay off. When his mouth found her second peak she let off a soft cry.

"Please, Dean," she hissed.

Dean carefully spun her, lying her gently on the bed, but was shocked a moment later when his belt undid itself and went flying. He looked at Hermione and saw her wand in her hand, and a smirk came over his face.

"Impatient witches don't get what they want," he chuckled, taking the wand from her and tossing it aside.

"That sounds like a challenge," she smirked, moving so she was kneeling on the edge of the bed. She ran a hand over the bulge in his jeans, and he sucked in a breath. "I do so like challenges," she murmured, unbuttoning the jeans and pushing them and his boxers down, freeing his cock. She reached out to wrap a hand around him, her touch feather-light as she stroked him a few times and he fought the urge to beg her for more. As though she could read his mind she suddenly moved forward, taking him into her mouth as he hissed out a string of profanities. He placed a hand in her hair as her hand tightened around him as she moved it and her mouth in unison, setting a rhythmic, maddening pace. Every time he tried to thrust his hips, tried to move her faster, she would pull back, licking the tip for a moment as he caught his breath before taking him in her mouth again. He felt his body start to tighten and he grit his teeth, determined not to finish yet, not when there was so much more he wanted.

Slowly she pulled herself off him and looked up into his eyes. "Do I get what I want now?" she asked with a smirk.

"Fuck, I'll give you everything, Hermione," he breathed, half begging.

She moved onto her back and he immediately joined her, pulling off her jeans and knickers, kissing her passionately as his hand moved between her legs.

"Holy shit," he hissed as he found her wet and ready for him. Still he took his time, circling her nub slowly, carefully adding more pressure as she writhed beneath him.

She pushed his shoulder so now he was the one lying down and swung her leg over his. Without a word she carefully took a hold of him, guiding him inside her as she lowered herself with soft moan. Her hips started sliding over his as he pulled her down, catching her lips once again with his, desperate to keep the connection as she moved atop him. His hands found her hips, guiding her movements until he started moving his hips up to meet hers. When her movements started becoming erratic and he could feel her starting to lose control he carefully rolled them so he was now on top, kissing her neck, chest, and breasts as he continued to thrust into her. Her fingers ran helplessly over the smooth skin of his back, desperate for something to hold onto as her body began to tighten. He fought to maintain his control as she clenched around him, her breath coming in ragged spurts, her head thrown back before she finally released with a strangled cry. Losing his self control he sped up his thrusts, breathing heavily as he finally climaxed shortly after her.

They stared at each other for a long moment as their breath slowly came back to them. He let his eyes wander from her face, and to his surprise he realized that he had not noticed several large scars across her body. He carefully withdrew from her and laid next to her, tracing the longest of the scars with his fingers and wondering vaguely what had caused it, and he would kiss her whenever the urge struck to ask. Having questions was good, it was something he could look toward in the future, and he realized his usual urge to leave as quickly and easily as possible was nowhere to be found.

"Are you staying the night?" she asked softly.

"I thought you wouldn't ask," he smiled before kissing her again.

His hand groped for his phone at the sound of the familiar ringtone, the motion automatic despite the noise waking him up seconds before.

"'Lo?" he muttered groggily, but after a moment he sat up. "Yeah," he muttered, brow furrowed. "No, I get it... I'm on it... Shouldn't take me more than a day to get out there... Talk to you later, Dad."

"Time to move on?" Hermione asked from behind him.

"Yeah, Dad says there's something in western Texas he wants me to look into. You know how it is," he turned back to look at her, trying not to let the disappointed feeling in his gut show on his face.

"Of course I do," she smiled .

For a long moment he sat still, not wanting to leave her side, but in the end he could hear John snapping at him to get a move on in the back of his head, and he got up and started getting dressed. Hermione did the same, digging fresh clothes out of her beaded bag and putting them on in silence. Once they had each used the restroom they exited the tent and stood awkwardly by the remains of the fire.

"I'll make sure everything is cleaned up around here," Hermione murmured.

"Thanks," he nodded, then checked to make sure he still had everything just for something to do. When there were no more excuses to stall he took a deep breath. "It was good meeting you," he muttered, cringing inwardly.

"Likewise," she smiled, doing the lip-biting thing that caused him to stand up a little straighter. "Maybe we'll meet up again sometime."

"I'd like that," he smiled. "Take care, Hermione."

"You, too, Dean."

He walked towards the Impala, then glanced back. She was waving her wand, taking down the tent, but she looked up at him and gave him a sad little smile. Shaking his head, trying to get her out so he could get back into hunting mode, he turned the car on, made a tight turn, and rocketed back towards the highway. He turned on his music, but found he couldn't pay attention at all.

"Fuck it," he muttered five miles down the road, tires protesting as he made a u-turn and headed back to the campsite. When he got there, however, she was gone, as was all evidence that they had ever been there. He got out of the car and went to where the tent had stood, looking around a few times and wondering if he was in the wrong place, but his gut told him he wasn't mistaken. Sighing he turned to walk back to the Impala when he noticed something tucked under a rock by where the fire had been. He bent to pick it up, finding the torn corner of a piece of parchment. Carefully unfolding it he read:

I'll race you to Texas.

-H

"Oh, you're on, Granger," he smiled in spite of himself, and hurried back to the car.

A few months later...

"Excuse me, boys," the middle-aged waitress cut Sam off mid-sentence, and he and Dean looked up at her in confusion. "I just wanted to know what kind of pie you'd like?"

"We didn't order..." Sam started.

"Now, hold on, there," Dean interrupted.

"I know you haven't ordered any, sugar, but the girl who paid your tab was quite insistent that you each get a slice," the waitress informed them.

"Girl who paid our tab?" Sam asked, but Dean was already sitting up straight, looking around expectantly.

"Yeah, pretty young thing, British accent. Gave me more than enough cash to cover it, but when I looked up to ask if she'd like to join you she was gone. I didn't even hear the door ring."

"Can I get that pie to go?" Dean asked, excitement thick in his voice.

A few minutes later they were each clutching a Styrofoam container containing their dessert as they walked quickly through the parking lot towards the Impala, Sam clearly confused but unable to match Dean's excited pace. As soon as they came around a semi they could see a brunette woman standing by the Impala putting a bag through the open window into the backseat.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean asked as he slowed down but straightened up, a large grin on his face.

"Well, I seem to have quite a bit of vacation time saved up, and I was told I need to 'use it or lose it', so I took some time off, went and did a freelance job, and heard there might be a hunter driving an older black car somewhere in this area," she replied with a smile.

"Bullshit," he chuckled.

"Just the second part," she smiled as he took her into his arms.

"What freelance job?"

"Some pureblood woman wanted to get back into the family manor, but had three rather violent ghouls and a poltergeist that needed to be taken care of before she could," she replied

"Oh, I love it when you talk spooky to me, baby," he smirked.

"You just love it when I talk to you," she shot back.

"You're not going to hear me arguing," he replied, bending his neck and giving her a prolonged kiss.

"Don't mind me," Sam finally said loudly. "I'll just go wait somewhere else."

"I'm sorry," Hermione apologized, looking slightly embarrassed as Dean turned her towards Sam and stood behind her, arms around her middle. "Aren't you possessive today?" she chuckled.

"You, sweetheart, are about to meet the male version of yourself and, while I definitely got the looks in the family girls seem to like his brains and baby face for some reason."

"Wait, you're Sam?" her eyes lit up.

"Yeah, I am," Sam replied, sounding irritated. "You've obviously heard about me."

"Of course! Dean talks about you all the time! But I thought you were at college."

"Obviously he doesn't talk much about recent events. To either of us," he added pointedly.

"I'm so sorry!" she gasped. "How rude of me! I'm Hermione Granger, and it's so nice to meet you," she extended a hand, which Sam shook.

"So, you're Dean's..." he trailed off looking at them, and Hermione and Dean exchanged a look.

"Girlfriend," Dean finally said, and even Hermione looked a little surprised.

"Girlfriend? I didn't know you had a girlfriend or even did the long-term dating thing at all," he said, sounding skeptical, as he and Dean locked eyes.

"It sounds like you two might have a few things you need to get off your chest, so I'm going to go get some coffee," Hermione interrupted Sam and Dean's stare.

"Shouldn't take too long," Dean murmured, kissing her cheek and letting her go, then watching her as she hurried across the lot.

"How long?" Sam started.

"About six months before I came to get you."

"I thought relationships were off limits in this job," he asked.

"There's a lot about Hermione that breaks the rules, most of which we're going to have to wait until we're in the car to talk about," Dean replied. "But I can tell you now that she's a hunter, so things are different..."

"Different, how? She's still someone who can get hurt because of what our family does. Did you even think that what happened to Jess might happen to her?"

"Yeah, I did," he shot back. "I didn't sleep for three nights, halfway torn between calling her just to hear her voice and breaking it off with her because I was terrified that yellow-eyed bastard would come after her next. But Hermione has been through more than some hunters who have been doing this for decades, and..." he trailed off.

"What?"

"I'm in too deep on it, Sam," he muttered to the ground. "I've wanted something like this, someone like her, for too long, even though I've tried most of my life to convince myself otherwise. I'm too selfish to give it up, and she's too stubborn to let me for something like 'I want to keep you safe'."

He raised an eyebrow. "She must really be something."

"She is," he nodded. "Spend a day with her and you'll see it."

"But you didn't call her your girlfriend until today," he pointed out.

"Didn't need to," he shrugged. "Never had anyone ask, and we didn't feel the need to try to label it ourselves. But she's there when I need it, and every time I see her, every time I see her name on my phone even, I just feel happy, even if everything else is going fucking wrong."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Dean studied him for a moment. "A couple reasons, I guess. I didn't think so soon after Jess died was the best time for me to be saying, 'hey, by the way, get a load of my girl'. And because... because you had been doing it right, Sam. Building a relationship the way one is supposed to be built, with trust and getting to know one another and not starting it by threatening to kill her and having your second date being destroying a nest of vampires together and falling into bed together after. For a while I had a lot of feelings like I was doing Hermione wrong and I knew all this would come up when you first met her, so I kept you two from meeting."

"Why didn't you tell her I was hunting with you now?"

"Because I knew she'd want to meet you, and I don't think I could stall forever. Hermione's not the type of girl who is satisfied having a question she has unanswered, and you would be one hell of a question."

Sam was quiet for a long moment. "You really like this girl," he said softly, a statement more than a question.

"Absolutely. I know this relationship is going to be a huge fight between Dad and I, he might even disown me for it, but the longer this goes on the more I realize that I don't care as long as Hermione is still around at the end of it."

"Why would Dad disown you? I know he's told you it's not a good idea to get in a relationship, but I didn't think it would be that serious if you disregarded that. Especially if it's someone who understands the life and the risks and can take care of herself."

"As I said, some things will have to be confessed in the car," he said, looking over Sam's shoulder and smiling as he saw Hermione approaching, and the sight of the happiness on his face even made Sam smile for a moment.

"Better?" Hermione asked cautiously.

"Yeah, sorry about that. It really is nice to meet you," Sam shot her a smile.

"Likewise," she nodded. "So... where are we off to?"

"Here," Dean said, producing something from his jacket pocket. "A man with a hook killed himself a teenager, but of course, the authorities can't find any evidence of this man except the dead kid."

"Oh, I think I've seen this movie!" Hermione muttered, grabbing the paper and scanning it. "To Iowa?"

He smiled at her and opened the passenger door for her.

"Aw, hell, you're giving her shotgun?" Sam groaned.

"Sorry, Sammy, but she's a lot cuter than you are," Dean beamed as Hermione climbed in.

"It's going to be a long ride," Sam grumbled as he climbed in the back, trying to get himself comfortable as his brother pulled out onto the highway and sped off.