XI. Hello! You're Life's in Danger
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = XI. Hello! Your Life’s in Danger
DEAN FELT LIKE HIS INNARDS WERE wrenched out of him. He didn’t know what Hermione and the other two Brits were up to until they told the rest of them to put their hands on the Impala. The next turn of events were nothing but a blurry haze and a dizzying feeling that had Xander and himself scurrying to find a place to throw up.
“Hell man, these witches and wizard’s definition of travel
is not the same as what I have in mind,” complained Xander after he was done heaving the last of his lunch.
“Tell me about it,” agreed Dean. He was still hunched over and waiting until the dizziness subsided. He was afraid that if he straightened up everything would come rushing out again and he didn’t want to throw up in front of everybody else. Or worse, he didn’t want to have his lunch end up on somebody working for the government. “I think I’ll need to have a one-on-one with Hermione about her choices of dragging us along with her,” he added after he was certain his stomach wouldn’t turn over again.
“I agree,” seconded Xander.
Both men straightened up. They took in a certain amount of deep breaths until their heads cleared up and they were ready to face the others.
“Are you okay?” Hermione asked when Dean and Xander joined their little group outside the DMM building where the Impala Portkey took them.
“Yeah, just as long as I don’t take any more trips where I feel a hook on my gut pulling me to God knows where I’ll be fine.”
“You’ll get used to it. I did.”
Something about the way she said it didn’t sit well with Dean. He was about to question her about that when a couple of men in suits showed up.
“Misses Granger, Summers and Mister Harris,” said a crusty looking older man with a hint of British accent. He stopped just before the small group and regarded them carefully.
“Mr. Blackburn,” Hermione stepped up and shook hands with the man. “We came here as soon as we were able to.”
“Good, good,” the man nodded and gave the four newcomers a quick look once again before his eyes landed on the platinum blond haired man with them. “Well, let’s all get inside where it’s cooler,” he stepped aside and gestured for the seven of them to precede him back to the building.
Dean fell behind and grabbed Hermione’s elbow, letting her trail beside him and behind the others.
“What’s going on here?” he whispered.
“What do you mean?”
“That guy’s acting really weird, Hermione, and I think you know why,” he accused.
Hermione took her time before answering. Dean was right, of course. She had been briefed in the letter she received from DMM about what was to happen with all seven of them. It was eating her up inside keeping the truth from Dean even if Sam figured out what role they now play in this game of life and death since stopping the Creature from killing Luna and Malfoy.
“Mr. Blackburn will explain and answer all your questions, Dean,” was her reply. “C’mon, pick up your feet and let’s get out of this heat!” She pulled her elbow from his grip and picked up her pace. ~ * ~
Dean sat bolt up in his seat, interrupting the British Ministry of Magic Ambassador to the United States for the umpteenth time since Ambassador Blackburn started his explanation on why the lot of them was asked to remain within the DMM facilities for the time being.
“Yes, Mr. Winchester?” Exasperation was evident in the older wizard’s voice. His face showed strains of restrained annoyance for being interrupted yet again.
“Look, I’m not really clear
on this whole creature’s after your ass now you have to hide thing,” Dean leaned to his side in the not so comfortable plastic swivel chairs with armrests. They were inside one of the ‘regular’ boardroom; Dean could hardly wait to see what kinds of seats they have reserved for their executive
boardrooms. “Exactly why
do I have to run and hide like some sissy?” Dean winced when he felt a toe of a not-so-soft shoe kicked him on the shin. He didn’t have to look around for the culprit. He knew exactly who
inflicted pain on his person.
Hermione sat across from him, her brown eyes shooting daggers straight at him. Dean could only imagine if she was able to she’d do him up in that magic trick she pulled when he was being a butthead back at the campsite in Canada the night they stopped the demon from killing Blondie Boy and Loony Witch.
“What?” he hissed.
“You’re being disrespectful, Dean,” she hissed back.
“I’m not,” he denied. “I’m just asking the old codger here a straight-up question.”
being disrespectful,” Hermione insisted and added before Dean could protest, “Clean the wax off your ears and pay attention!” She gave him a warning glare before looking back at the elderly man and nodded, signaling him to continue.
“Thank you, Miss Granger,” Ambassador Blackburn sounded relieved and he picked up where he left off before Dean interrupted him.
Sam and Xander weren’t the subtlest of people on earth. The dynamic duo nearly keeled over from trying to stop them from laughing out loud after Hermione told him off.
Dean shot his brother and Xander a piercing glare. They were doing a bad job of hiding their obvious enjoyment of seeing him get chewed up and spat out by the hoity-toity witch.
Blackburn rattled on with his warnings, reiterating that the seven of them are safer inside this high tech facility than outside its protective walls. Dean bit his tongue to stop his smart-alecky mouth from interrupting again.
He felt Hermione watching him. Every movement he made her eyes were on him. His shin still throbbed where she kicked him; he made sure to keep his legs – or any part of his person – away from her kicking range every time he moved. Hermione Granger was one violent woman regardless of her demure, proper English lady guise. ~ * ~
Dean was restless.
It had been a full week and a half now and they were still in DC. Every time he ventured outside the building that served as their prison cell – it was more like a comfortable home away from home, but right now he was in a pissy mood and he’d call this place PRISON since it felt like he was in one – he’d always spot one of those men in black tailing them. It was starting to grate on his nerves.
Hermione, Buffy and Xander were MIA the entire time they were holed up here. When Dean asked, nobody would give him a straight answer. One of their guards must’ve had enough of his nagging and got Hermione to come see him right away.
“Dean, what’s wrong? One of the agents told me you needed to see me ASAP,” Hermione looked alarmed when she walked up to him after she was allowed to enter the premises.
Dean almost felt guilty for asking the guard to lie just so he’d get her here, but at the time it was the only thing he knew that would get her to make an appearance.
“I’m fine. Just pissed,” was his curt reply.
Hermione frowned. “You mean you’re not hurt?”
“No. Should I be?”
Dean saw her forehead crease to a frown. The line of her lips thinned and he felt her slicing him in about a million pieces with that glare of hers.
“Look, I’m going crazy here! We helped you. Your two friends are safe—”
“They’re not my friends,” Hermione interrupted.
“—Sam and I are done here,” he told her.
“You’re not safe out there,” she reminded him.
“I know that. Hell, Hermione, our lives hadn’t been safe since our mother died when Sam and I were kids!” His voice must’ve risen to an alarming tone. He saw one of the agents enter the room, but he stopped when Hermione looked over her shoulder and asked the man to leave them alone.
Dean took a deep breath and counted one to ten. It wouldn’t do either one of them any good if they started going at each other’s throats.
“Sam and I hunt demons, Hermione. Our lives are always in danger, especially if we use ourselves as baits,” he tried to explain it in as simple a sentence as he could.
“But those demons you hunt don’t have a personal vendetta on you.”
“What do you mean?”
Hermione looked conflicted. There was something she wasn’t sharing with him, and that got him irked even more.
“Malfoy, Luna and myself are to go back to England tomorrow where the Ministry of Magic people can better protect us.”
Dean frowned. He doesn’t care about her leaving the country the next day, but something in his gut tightened when she announced that she was leaving.
“I thought you said we’re safe here.”
“We are,” she agreed, “But I’m just a visitor here, and so are Malfoy and Luna. We can’t stay here indefinitely.”
“Yes, you can. You’re witches and wizards! Hell, you magic-ed us back to DC in no time flat!” He still wasn’t too happy about his Impala being used as a Portkey to get them through border patrol, but at least he didn’t have to answer questions he doesn’t know squat explaining about.
“If we Apparated or used a Portkey to get here, our presence in your country wouldn’t be in question by Muggle immigration. But as it was, the three of us traveled via the Muggle way.”
“Muggle?” Dean echoed. These Brits were using terminologies that he doesn’t have a clue about. “You’re referred to as mud blood – whatever that means – and now you’re talking about muggles. What the hell kinda language is this?”
“It’s our term for non-magic folks,” she explained.
“Which one? Muggles or mud blood?”
“What about the other one?” Hey, she was in an explaining mood
Hermione didn’t answer him right away. Dean thought she’d dismiss it, but then she let out a frustrated sigh and relented.
“Mud Blood is an insult to witches or wizards who are born from non-magic folks. My parents were Muggles. They’re dentists.”
Dean seemed to consider her explanation for a while. “Cool,” he said afterwards.
“Thank you. Anyway, we crossed the pond via an airplane. Malfoy and Luna are close to using up their allotted time to be able to stay in the country. I have other pressing matters to attend to at work back home.”
“And you’re telling me this because?” He gestured for her to fess up and get right to the point.
“The Department of Magical Ministry will be giving you and Sam a choice. Xander and Buffy already made theirs, but it’s you two that we’re more concerned about.”
Dean felt the hair at the back of his neck rose. He had a gut feeling what Hermione was alluding to and he knew he’d hate it. He wouldn’t like it. Sam wouldn’t agree to whatever this wacky witch’s plan was. To hell with this blasted department of magical crap. He has his life of demon hunting to do and so does Sam; neither one of them had time sit around and hide because the tables suddenly turned on them and now they were the hunted instead of the hunters.