The Witch and The Hunters

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Page count: 7

"Dean, I'm going for dinner, what do you want?" Sam asked, slipping on his jacket and finding the car keys.

"Not hungry," Dean muttered, his eyes focused on Hermione.

Sam had long since begun to worry about his older brother. It had been three days since the battle at the warehouse and Hermione had yet to wake. Dean had barely left her bedside, only using the bathroom when he absolutely had to. He hadn't eaten since that day, he hadn't changed his clothes since that day, he hadn't washed since that day, he hadn't slept since that day and he'd barely spoken since that day.

Sam was at a loss, he didn't know what to do. Sam brought Dean the fattiest, most disgusting food he could purchase and Dean had barely looked at it. To make matters worse, Dean had simply looked at the pie he'd bought him before turning his attention back to Hermione. He'd turned down pie! Twice!

He 'd shared his concerns with Bobby and he often tried to engage Dean in conversation or encourage him to eat, but it was all for nothing as all he did was sit in the chair beside Hermione, staring at her.

Dean still wore the bloody, torn clothing from the day of the battle; he still had dried blood smudged on his face and body, his hair stood up at odd angles and was mattered from him constantly running his hands through it. His eyes were bloodshot and had dark purple bruises surrounding them; he sat slumped in the chair as if he'd given up on everything in life.

Sam didn't know what to do; he just hoped that whatever it was between Hermione and Dean wouldn't cost him his brother's health. He prayed that Hermione would wake and set Dean straight.

"You haven't eaten in three days, you need to eat."

"Not hungry,"

"Dean..." Sam sighed.

"I said I'm not hungry," he snapped. His eyes cut from Hermione to Sam, glaring at him furiously and Sam decided to let it go, seeing as that was the most emotion he had seen from Dean in days, not to mention the longest interaction he'd had with him, too.

"Fine, I'll bring you something back anyway, you might change your mind later."

Sam left without a reply from Dean, but he didn't expect one.

It was fifteen minutes later when Hermione's hands gripped at the blankets, her breathing sped up and her eyes moved rapidly below her eyelids. Dean watched as it happened, he'd gotten used to it after three days of it occurring every fifteen minutes, but this time something was different.

He straightened in his chair and leaned forward, he could hear murmuring coming from Hermione but he couldn't decipher what she was saying. Her breathing turned into gasps as if she was struggling to breathe and her knuckles turned white from the tight grip she had on the blankets, her body shook and her head thrashed from side to side rapidly.

"Hermione," Dean said quietly, reaching his hand out to touch her shoulder.

"DEAN!" Hermione screeched.

She bolted upright, her chest rising and falling erratically and her eyes darting around wildly, searching her surroundings.

"Hey," Dean muttered softly. Her head spun to him and the fear in her eyes dissipated, replaced by relief. "You're safe here," he promised, giving her a tired smile and she frowned at him.

"You look like crap," she spoke, her voice hoarse from a lack of use. He stared at her before chuckling and it quickly turned into a laugh.

"Of all the things to say, that's what comes out of your mouth?" He shook his head and reached for the bottle of water on the bedside table that Sam had placed there for him and he handed it to her, watching as she took it from him and drank from it greedily.