Note: I tried setting this with Season One vibes of Supernatural because it made the most sense for a Post War!Hermione. There were some historical facts altered about Wentworth Mansion, so I apologize in advance to any history buffs lol I don't own any of these characters, simply own what's been written here.

Word Count: 4,675

It had been 8 years since Hermione tried walking away from the wizarding world. 8 years since the pain and heartbreak of England filled her senses. As soon as the war was over, Hermione encountered Ron with someone else. He stated that their kiss was a spur of the moment; she agreed, but it still hurt to see him with someone else.

She had been saved from Bellatrix before she could carve in her arm, but the painful memory of Malfoy Manor remained. Hermione couldn't stay there, not as Hermione Granger: War Heroine.

Getting away from the country was the best option. Getting as far as she could was the best option. Australia would have been a good choice, but knowing she couldn't get her parent's memory back, Hermione couldn't be that close to them. Harry and Ron tried to convince her to stay, but nothing was changing her mind after it was made up.

The States was the next best thing and had been since she arrived. She'd settled in some place in the state of Virginia, making a new name for herself. She wasn't Hermione Granger anymore. She lost her wand a long time ago. Magic was a thing of the past for the witch.

It was completely out of her character, and that's exactly what Hermione wanted. Everything had been going so well for her. She had a home outside the town of Roanoke, and she had the peace she wanted.

All of that was going to change in one swift motion. Driving along the backroad, Hermione couldn't react in time to the car swerving at her in time.

The car had flipped so many times that Hermione had become disorientated before she even sustained the concussion that had her drifting in and out of consciousness. She was fleetingly aware of the bloody taste in her mouth, but she couldn't figure out what it was. At times her eyelids fluttered, and she thought she must be at home in bed because it was so dark. Then why the cold and the sound of rain on metal? Why the pain, Merlin, why so much pain?

A flicker of a light came to Hermione's blurring vision, and a hand caressed her face. "You're going to be safe, Hermione," came a soothing voice. "Rest."

It was strange; Hermione thought she'd heard that voice before. During her time with Harry out in the woods, she'd heard that voice. It gave her the strength she needed to keep going.

In that moment, it gave her the strength to close her eyes and rest. As warmth coursed through her body, she prayed that she'd wake back up.

There were voices, two of them. Both of them were male as far as Hermione could tell. Her ears strained to listen while her eyes were closed.

"It gave specific instructions to keep her safe," one said.

"How do we know this Hermine chick isn't being used as a trap to get to us," the other argued.

A scoff was heard. "Didn't you see the seal on the letter? I saw this in a book once, and it looks exactly like the seals of the heavens."

"So you're saying she was sent to us by God?"

"Technically an angel, but yeah."

"That's the dumbest load of crap I've ever heard."

"Then why are you holding her like that?"

At that statement, Hermione's body felt the warmth of someone's arms wrapped securely around her body. The steady beat of a heart reached her ears, and the rise of a chest was now evident.

Oh Merlin, she was cuddling into someone's chest! Slowly, Hermione willed her eyes to open, and she was met with quite the sight.

There was a tall, muscular man with shaggy brown hair sitting at a table barely a foot away from the bed. He was looking in her direction, but not at her. He was looking at the man holding her.

His short, spiky blond hair stood out along with the most striking green eyes she'd ever seen. Even more so than Harry's.

"Sleeping Beauty is awake," the man holding her said with a smirk. Her body should have reacted with fear and alarm, but something made her feel safe where she was.

"W-Where am I?" she asked, looking around once more for anything familiar.

"Just outside of Roanoke," the man at the table said. "I'm Sam. Sam Winchester." Sam pointed at the man holding her. "And that asshole is my brother, Dean."

Dean snorted. "Try painting yourself as the saint. Cute."

Hermione tore herself away from Dean, touching her head lightly. "I was driving, and there was a crash." The memory of flipping in the car hit her painfully. "Oh no! Was anyone hurt? What happened?"

Dean held a hand up. "Hold up, English Beauty. After you were dropped off with us, we checked the place out. It looked like your car took the beating."

"Dropped off?" Hermione frowned. "I don't understand."

The brothers shared a glance before looking at Hermione. "Honestly, we don't know much either. Someone brought you here with a letter, giving us your name and instructing us to keep you safe," Sam explained.

"Someone like who?" Hermione asked.

"We…don't know that either. It was sealed with a symbol that um…that we believe came from the heavens."

"The heavens?" Hermione looked astonished. "You've got to be joking. How is that possible?"

Dean moved out of the bed and pointed at Hermione. "See, even she doesn't believe it."

Sam shook his head. "It's the only thing that makes sense. Who else would send a woman to a couple of Hunters?"

At her look of confusion, Dean warned Sam with a 'shut up' expression. Except it was too late; Hermione was curious and managed to get her way of receiving an explanation. If it weren't for her own past, Hermione would have called the men bonkers and ran out as fast as she could.

They spent the better half of the day getting acquainted and eating. Through it all, Hermione chose to stay; where else would she go like this? Though she opted not to mention the magical aspect of her former life; even if they chose to open her up to their world, it wasn't safe to open her up about the life she left behind.

"We've got a case," Sam said, still sitting at the table in the hotel room with his laptop open and a newspaper article set beside it. "A mansion is getting some heat with couples disappearing from inside. There's no physical traces from the disappearances other than a pool of blood found in the beds."

Dean shrugged, finishing off the rest of a beer. "We've investigated with less. Let's go then."

Sam held a hand up to stop Dean. "Wait a sec. We won't be able to go undercover as authority here. We won't get the kind of information we'd retrieve directly from the inside."

Hermione also mentally noted that if they had undercover clothing, she did not, and would stick out like a sore thumb.

"Sooo we just check in as guests…?" Dean trailed off, giving Sam a look that said, 'get on with it.'

Hermione bit her lip from her spot on the hotel bed. It was ironic hearing about such things given where she had come from, but the thinking about the wizarding world brought a sinking feeling in her stomach.

"It's a couples retreat, Dean," Sam emphasized.

"Oh…oh!" Dean replied, eyes meeting Hermione's briefly before staring at his brother. "There's no way we're letting her in on this."

"She's already in it, Dean, and you're the one who brought her here," Sam said.

Dean placed a hand on his chest with a mock-offended expression. "Can't I be a good Samaritan once in my life?"

"I don't see why we can't just—"

"She's a civilian, Sammy."

"She's also under an angel's protection. You saw the seal."

"That seal could have been the insignia from a goddamn monkey ranch."

"She's also sitting right here," Hermione said, interrupting the brothers' banter. Honestly, it was her choice, even if she hadn't completely caught up with the circumstances brought upon her. Folding her arms, Hermione lifted her chin up in defiance. "I am perfectly capable of handling myself."

"We clearly seen that," Dean muttered before rubbing his face. He looked like he was having an inward conflict with the way his lip twitched. "Fine. Fine," he said, slapping his hands on his pants. "So you and Hermia—"

"Hermione," she corrected automatically.

Dean waved his hand nonchalantly, "Whatever, can pose as a happy couple, and I'll stay behind somewhere else to research more on this thing."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "You want to stay behind to research?"

There was a pause. "Well when you put it like that…" Dean shook his head before a smirk graced his features. "Guess we're sharing a bed again, Hermina."

"Hermione," she corrected once more, her cheeks heating up slightly from the look on his face.

"Whatever." Dean had turned back to look at his younger brother. "So, where's the place and what kind of food do they have?"

The younger brother rolled his eyes before his finger moved on the mouse of his laptop. "It's the Wentworth Mansion…" he trailed off as he read the information on the screen. "…and as luck would have it, because of the disappearance news spreading, a couple recently canceled their reservation. I'm booking it before someone else does." From the look on his face, Hermione could tell he was hiding something.

Dean could tell too apparently. "Alright. What is it?"

Sam blinked up in surprise and feigned innocence. "What is what?"

The eldest brother folded his arms. "What is that face you're making?"

Cheeks beginning to puff out, Sam cleared his throat. Given her past experiences with certain red-headed twins, Hermione figured out he was trying not to laugh.

"It's just that…erm."

"Erm…" Dean made circles with his hand. "Come on, man."

"It's called the Babymoon Package," Sam replied, covering his mouth as clearing his throat did nothing to hide his laughter.

Hermione gasped covered her mouth in horror; she was second guessing putting her life in these men's hands. Angel's instructions be damned. Dean was silent again, lips parted open slightly before he blinked and shook his head.

"I'm sorry. A what package?" he said.

"The Babymoon Package," Sam repeated slowly.

"What the hell is that?" Dean demanded. "I know for damn sure that it ain't shooting a baby out to the moon or taking one on a honeymoon."

"It's—" his brother started to explain before Hermione spoke up.

"It's a period where a couple takes a vacation before the woman gives birth, typically in the second trimester," she explained before frowning. "Except I don't look like I am pregnant at all."

"And I don't look like a father!" Dean added.

Hermione glared at Dean before turning her gaze desperate in Sam's direction. "Are there really no other open reservations for this retreat?"

"Believe me, if there were any other spots open, I would happily get you out of this," Sam said. "Unfortunately, this is all we've got, and it's the safest way to keep an eye on you, too."

Dean was pacing in the room, and Hermione looked to the floor thoughtfully. Was she truly ready to jump into another perilous adventure? With mere strangers no less? She left England for North America to get away from it all, and that included the dangerous ventures she'd no doubt face with Harry and Ron.

Yet there was this yearning feeling inside, churning up at the prospect of either proving everything was rubbish or discovering more than she had before. And she couldn't, in good conscious, not aid in saving couples from disappearing.

She wouldn't admit that another reason was that she felt secure in Dean's arms.

"I don't know how we're going to pull off the pregnancy or a marriage," Hermione said as she released a breath. "But if this is the way to catch…whatever it is, then we'll figure out a way."

Sam gave her an appreciative look before glancing at his brother. The blonde must have figured that he was outnumbered and sighed.

"Won't be able to help with that quick pregnancy look but," he slipped a silver ring from his ring finger on his right hand. He set it in her hand. "Here's some proof that you're the fake Mrs. Winchester."

"Smith," Sam interjected.

Dean gave them both a nod. "Right, Mrs. Smith." He slung his bag over his shoulder. "Well if there's nothing else keeping us here that we can't catch up with in the car, let's blow this popsicle stand and go to…?"

"Charleston, South Carolina," Sam answered monotonously.

"Charleston, South Caroline," Dean repeated as he snapped his fingers, opening and exiting the door.

Hermione stared at the silver ring in her hand; there was no way it would fit on her finger. Just another problem and question she had without a solution.

Sam was by her side, hand resting on her shoulder. "I've been where you are," he said in a gentle tone. "and I know you've got questions. I probably can't answer them all, but I have some books and journals if you like to read."

She could have hugged him.

It had been nearly 7 hours in their drive from Roanoke when they arrived in Charleston, and from what the boys could tell from the rising sun, it was morning. Hermione was curled up in the backseat with an open book on her stomach, sleeping soundly.

Sam gave Dean a look. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"Why wouldn't I be? I agreed didn't I?" Dean said.

They slowed down at a stoplight, and Sam rubbed his neck. "It's just that…I know you don't try to get close to women, and we'll be separated which is something we don't try to do."

Dean looked at Sam. "We are grown ass men. She is a grown ass woman. A hot one at that. We get in, solve the case, simple as that."

"And you won't try anything on her?" Sam asked with a raised brow.

Dean gave him an incredulous look. "Are you kidding me? She's already slept in my arms before, the least I could do is add a kiss to her fulfill the rest of her dreams."

At that, Sam rolled his eyes. "You are unbelievable."

"Correction, I am handsome and her pretend husband."

"What does that have to do with it?"

"It has everything to do with it."

Sam blew out a puff of air when he looked out the window. All the historical landmarks in the city was astounding, but he couldn't take pleasure in it now. There were more pressing matters.

Soon enough, they arrived near Wentworth Mansion's entrance. The brothers got out the car and popped the trunk, retrieving Dean's dufflebag. After making sure his wallet had his fake ID and cash inside, Dean slipped the strap of his bag on his shoulder and moved to pick up Hermione.

Surprisingly, she didn't wake up from her slumber, only curling into Dean's chest. He sported a cocky grin while Sam gave him a warning glance.

"Take care of Hermione," Sam said.

"Take care of Baby," Dean retorted. "I will not hesitate to shoot you if you so much as scratch her."

With an understanding, the guys parted ways with Sam driving away and Dean walking up the walkway to the mansion. Explaining Hermione's lack of baby bump was super easy for Dean.

"She's got high metabolism. And the clothes are meant to make her appear smaller. Doctor's orders."

Yup. Super easy.

Upon inspecting the wing of Wentworth Mansion they would be staying in, Dean and Hermione discovered that it was a spirit haunting the place. From the ectoplasm found at one of the windows, Dean explained to Hermione that it was a violent spirit. Thanks to her 'light' reading, Hermione didn't need a complete explanation on what the monster entailed.

Then the pair settled in their room. It was spacious and much more luxurious than the hotel Hermione woke in with the two men. The first thing Dean had done was bounce on the bed, patting the spot beside him teasingly.

As tempting as it was, Hermione declined and started to read instead.

"Am I gonna have to deal with two book nerds now?" Dean asked with a groan.

Hermione didn't respond, only smiling to herself as she turned to the next page of the book. Dean left, claiming he was going to find a place to grab her some clothes.

After their first dinner at the Circa 1886 Restaurant (or as Dean liked to call it: The Circus with No Quality Beer), Hermione and Dean had gotten some intel from an elder couple that stayed down the hall.

Inside their room, Hermione laid on her stomach on the bed while Dean complained about there only being sparkling cider in the ice bucket. The only thing that saved her was his phone ringing.

"Hey guys," came Sam's voice through speakerphone, "you get anything?"

"Some old folks claimed to have seen a little girl around midnight the night of the latest disappearance," Dean explained as he walked around the room. "Yeah, she was crying."

"Crying doesn't necessarily mean violent," Sam said on the receiving end. "We're missing something."

"Hell yeah we are. I can't find a spot around this joint that sells beer."

Hermione could hear the man sigh through the speaker. "Did you hear anything else?"

"Something about a tragedy regarding the original family that built the mansion," Hermione said. "Apparently there was a scandal in the early twentieth century because the family sold it to an association for a miniscule amount."

Dean propped his head on the bed, looking at Hermione with a mischievous look in his eye. "You know, you're cute when you talk smart."

Hermione slapped his arm with a huff, and she heard Sam laugh.

"This place is filled with ghost stories, so the specific century should help. I'll see what I can dig up online from the nineteen hundreds, and I'll call you guys back."

"Hurry it up while you're at it," Dean said, but he didn't get a reply because Sam had hung up. He put his phone back in his pocket before looking at Hermione. "Since we have to pass off as a couple, nothing wrong with a little practice."

Hermione didn't have the opportunity to reply (only squeak) before she was trapped underneath Dean, whose arms were on either side of her as they held him up. His green eyes were captivating, and the way that he looked at her didn't help much.

She wasn't a child anymore and had far more experiences than one her age should. Her guard had once been up to the point that the mere presence of a man brought her to the defense. But she couldn't be that way forever, not anymore. She nearly lost her life again, and there was so much to live for.

When Dean's lips pressed against hers, Hermione thought that it was a prime example of what she'd almost missed out on.

Her body responded immediately, wrapping her arms around his neck. Their lips opened for one another, allowing their tongues to explore and battle for dominance. Her fingers played with the hair that stopped at the edge of his neck, and Dean lowered his body closer to hers. Chests were pressed together at this point, and hips ground to cause friction on their lower halves.

The kiss was broken, and Hermione tried catching her breath, but then Dean nipped at a spot on her neck. Her body was very much appreciative; it had been way too long since someone touched her this way.

Of course, a song blaring from Dean's jacket would interrupt the moment.

"Dean…" Hermione managed to get out. "The…phone…"

"I'll get it later," Dean murmured against her neck. Merlin, she wanted him to stay there, but they couldn't afford not to answer the call. She didn't know the exact time, but it was still getting closer to midnight.

"Dean…please…"

"Normally a woman is saying that for another reason," he murmured. With a groan, Dean rolled away from her and took the phone out of his pocket. He answered it with a grunt, pressing the button to put it on speakerphone. "What?"

"You told me to hurry up," Sam protested.

"Now you choose to listen to me," Dean muttered.

Hermione had finally calmed down enough to join in the conversation. "What did you find, Sam?"

"At first, the only thing I saw were random history facts about the mansion's original owners," Sam said. "but after I looked more into the more minor articles, I found the tragedy Hermione mentioned."

"Well don't just leave us in the dark," Dean commented.

"In 1919, the owner's eldest son killed his wife and child in a fit of rage after finding the wife having an affair."

"Must have been some bad sex," Dean said with a slight head shake, earning him a glare. His brows rose in confusion. "What?"

A frown grew on Hermione's face. "The violent spirit isn't the little girl," she said. "It's her father, and she's trying to warn people."

"Well Daddy Deadest makes sense. He can't stand seeing the happy young couples because his own wife wasn't happy," Dean added with a frown of his own as he stared at Hermione. "Would explain why the old couple is still kicking around here."

"That's not all," Sam said on the phone, drawing the pair's attention back towards his voice. "When he was incarcerated, he was killed five years later in 1924."

"When the first couple was killed," Hermione stated softly. "There's a five-year gap between the other murders. That can't be a coincidence."

Dean scratched his head before getting out of the bed and cracking his knuckles. "Let's just find his bones and salt and burn his ass."

"It won't be that simple," Sam said.

"And why the hell not?" Dean demanded.

"He wasn't buried with the rest of the family," Sam explained. "In fact, there's no records of where his bones are."

Throwing his hands up in the air, Dean scoffed and looked down at the floor. "That's just great."

Hermione's brows furrowed as she tried to think; she was trying to remember something from the book Sam had given her on the ride to Charleston. Something about concealment… She was not the Brightest Witch of Her Age for nothing.

"Wait, your book mentioned that the spirit's physical remains have to be close to the place it's haunting, yeah?" she asked.

Dean stopped and looked at her. "Yeah, so?"

"What if his remains are buried in the mansion somewhere? It doesn't mention where he was taken after he was killed."

"Hermione, you're a genius!" Sam exclaimed. Hermione beamed as the younger male continued from the phone. "If we can find his bones in the mansion, we can take care of this easy and quick."

The blond raised a finger. "Uhh, one thing about that," he said. "How are we going to find remains in this big place or salt and burn them without the other guests seeing us or getting hurt in the process?"

The curly-haired woman tilted her head in thought. "Where would you bury a man that disgraced the family, after selling the home?"

Dean snorted. "He'd be in the nearest fireplace burning in the closest Hell," he answered. As soon as the words left his mouth, Hermione looked at him with a light gasp.

"The basement furnace," they said simultaneously.

"What?" Sam said, once again grabbing the pair's attention to the phone.

"Just get here with Baby quick," Dean ordered. "If you see a little girl with pigtails, just listen to her."

"But—"

"Get your ass here, Sammy!" Dean hung up the phone and went to the other side of the room where he had his dufflebag.

Hermione watched as he took out a pistol and cocked it. When their eyes met, his lips curved up to a smirk.

"Let's go get that sonuva bitch."

When Sam had finally arrived in the basement of the mansion (with no help to anyone), he knew that Dean and Hermione had taken care of the remains. He couldn't find the little girl anywhere, so her spirit had to be at rest.

What he didn't know was that he was going to find them practically going at it in front of the furnace. He had to rub his eyes to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Nope, their hands were all over each other. He had to clear his throat rather dramatically to actually catch their attention.

Hermione was the one to break away from their first. Despite there being splotches of dirt on her face, there was color in her cheeks that could have come from the furnace, adrenaline, or whatever she was feeling from the act itself. Sam was going to guess all of the above.

Dean had a cut on his forehead, and his clothes were disheveled; he was sporting an irritated look that meant that he was going to get Sam back for interrupting them.

"Your timing is just perfect," his older brother said, sarcasm dripping from his words.

Sam shrugged innocently. "It was kind of hard to get directions in this place when the guide was gone, and I have no reservation," he retorted.

That was enough for Dean. "Fair enough." He moved to stand, holding his hand out for the woman that was on the ground with him. "Bastard put up one hell of a fight, but Hermione here slapped him with an iron bar, so I could salt and burn him in time," Dean said proudly.

"And that was your way of saying 'thank you'?" Sam teased.

"It was my way of saying 'thank you'," Hermione answered, staring at Dean. "I could only reach the bar after you moved me out of the way."

Dean shrugged nonchalantly with a smug look on his face. Sam knew that his brother did that when he didn't want to be praised more than he 'deserved', and from Hermione's expression, she seemed to understand.

It made him wonder what the woman with them had gone through herself before she was sent to them literally by an angel.

"Alright, Mr. and Mrs. Smith," Sam said. "Let's check you guys out and get out of here."

Hermione stepped forward. "Actually, I was hoping that we could stay for the night and check out after breakfast." She bit her lip. "If it's not a bother."

Sam and Dean shared a look. When it was just the two of them, there wasn't much to checking out and getting out of dodge, but they weren't alone now. At least for the time being. With the case being a success, there was no harm in letting Hermione on cushion better than the car's backseat.

"We do get free breakfast," Dean said, breaking the silence. A small smile played on his lips, and Sam noticed that it was only directed at the woman next to him. Oh he was so going to tease Dean for this when she was out of earshot.

"I don't see why not," Sam replied with a shrug. "I'll come pick you guys up after breakfast then. Maybe take in the sights before then." Fiddling with the keys in his pocket, Sam began to leave the two alone. He heard his brother say something behind him.

"You better take care of Baby," Dean called out to him. "And I'll make sure to save you a bran muffin!"

There was a slapping sound, and Sam couldn't help but chuckle as continued his way out of the basement. Maybe having Hermione around would be good for the both of them; if only they knew why she was sent to them in the first place.