The Witch and The Hunters

CHAPTER TEN

Page count: 9

"I want breakfast. Anyone else?" Hermione announced, zipping up her beaded bag after checking that everything was packed.

She was dressed simply—dark jeans, black boots, a fitted tank top, and a pale pink cardigan that fell to her knees. Her hair was piled on top of her head, wand tucked neatly into the messy bun.

"Now you're speaking my language," Dean said, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder.

"I'll check us out and meet you at the car," Hermione replied. "We've got all the information we can from here. We'll plan our next steps over food."

Sam and Dean headed for the Impala while Hermione went to the front desk, where she found the same blushing teenager behind the counter trying—and failing—not to stare at her chest again. She scolded him for it, refused a refund for the extra two nights, and walked out laughing.

When she reached the car, Dean was leaning against the door, keys in hand. "What's got you cackling like the Wicked Witch of the West?"

"I do not cackle," Hermione said sharply.

"You're a witch," Dean shrugged. "Witches cackle. It's, like, their thing."

"No, they don't," she countered, then paused as a memory of Bellatrix Lestrange slithered into her mind. "Alright—some mentally challenged witches cackle. But most don't. Including me."

Sam smirked. "So... what was funny?"

"The kid at the counter tried to look down my shirt again," she said with a grin. Sam chuckled while Dean looked mildly impressed.

"Come on," Dean said, opening the driver's door. "Let's find some place that serves caffeine strong enough to wake the dead."

~00~000~000~

The diner they found looked cosy—red leather booths, checkered floor, the faint smell of grease and maple syrup in the air.

"Morning, I'm Kelly," their waitress said, voice flat and bored. She couldn't have looked more disinterested if she tried.

Sam ordered French toast and coffee. Dean went for coffee and "the greasiest thing you've got."

When it was Hermione's turn to order, she was too busy staring at Dean to notice her. Hermione cleared her throat.

"Hi, Kelly, was it? I'll have a cup of tea and pancakes. Chocolate sauce, strawberries, whipped cream, syrup... actually, throw in some bacon and eggs too."

Both brothers blinked at her before Dean let out a low whistle. Kelly wrote it down with a pout, clearly disappointed Dean hadn't flirted back, and walked off.

"So," Sam said once she was gone, "next steps?"

"They're not here," Hermione said simply. "If they were close, my wand would've reacted. It's sensitive to dark magic after... well, after years of being around it." She shrugged. "We should move on. I'll figure out our next destination once we've eaten."

"What's the plan?" Dean asked, already stirring sugar into his coffee.

"I want to stop at a petrol station—"

"Gas station," Dean corrected automatically.

"Whatever, Winchester." She rolled her eyes. "I'll get a map and try plotting the deaths. There has to be a pattern—I just haven't seen it yet."

Breakfast arrived, and they ate quickly. Before they left, Hermione stopped at the counter and begged the elderly woman running the till to sell her some tea bags. Five minutes later, Hermione emerged triumphant, clutching a small paper bag like treasure.