The Witch and The Hunters

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Page count: 9

They landed in Bobby's living room, Hermione still gripping Dean's hand when the world snapped back into focus. Sam was pacing a trench into the floorboards, and Bobby sat rigid in his armchair, leg bouncing like he was seconds from chewing his own hat.

"I told you they'd be worried," Hermione murmured to Dean.

Both men's heads whipped toward them.

"Thank God—you're alright. Where the hell have you been?" Sam snapped, storming toward them with the righteous fury of a man who hadn't slept in four days.

"Sorry, Dad," Hermione said dryly. "Didn't realise I needed permission to shower."

Dean nearly cracked up. Yep. That's his girl.

"I left both my wand and bag here," she added.

"You did?" Sam blinked, then immediately spotted them on the coffee table. "Oh. You did."
He cleared his throat like a man trying to rebuild his dignity. "Well—you didn't use the shower here, and you sure as hell weren't gone long enough to drive anywhere."

"I called for Mimsy," Hermione said casually. "She took us to my apartment. My magic's unsettled. Didn't want to risk Floo'ing or Port-keys... And the House-elves are making your breakfast," she added like that was normal conversation.

Sam rubbed a hand over his face. "A text would've been nice."

"I didn't have my wand, Sam. And phones don't work in my apartment."

"Oh. Right."

"The House-elves are making your breakfast," Hermione added. "It should be here soon."

Bobby eyed them both, narrowed gaze flicking to their joined hands. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Hermione promised.

Bobby clearly didn't buy that. Her posture was straight, voice steady—and he still looked ready to stick a thermometer in her ear.

"And you?" he grunted at Dean.

"Fine," Dean echoed, shrugging one shoulder. Hermione's fingers tightened lightly through his.

Two pairs of eyes dropped to their hands.

Sam sighed. "What the hell happened to you two?"

"We don't know," Dean said honestly. "But the symptoms? They were the same."

Sam frowned. "And you're not worried?"

Dean lifted his shoulders again. "Worrying won't solve shit. When we know what we're dealing with, we'll deal with it. Until then? No point losing sleep."

Sam blinked. "Dean... you haven't slept properly in nearly two weeks."

Dean ignored that.

"Cas is working on it," Sam continued.

Hermione frowned. "When did Cas get involved?"

"When you didn't turn up for work," Sam said. "Harry found you. Called for Cas. Cas brought you straight to Dean. The second he put you down next to him, you both settled. He says whatever's happening is supernatural and neither of you caused it."

Hermione paled. "When was all this?"

"Four days ago," Sam said. "You were out cold."

"Oh Merlin—Harry must be so worried," she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I need to Floo him, and then—"

"Relax." Sam cut her off. "Harry knows. He tracked you here—don't ask—and he's been back every day to check on you. Oh, and your owl's here, too. He, uh... really likes ice cream."