The Witch and The Hunters

CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

Page count: 8

Hermione sat on the edge of the bed with her head in her hands, only aware of Dean's frantic pacing due to the shadows moving across the disgusting carpet. She's been sat that way for almost half an hour. Dean had been pacing for longer.

Sam was gone. Someone, or worse, something had taken him. She wasn't sure she wanted to know which. They weren't even sure what they were dealing with, there was no pattern, there was no motive; everything appeared to be random. And whilst they had been searching for the one responsible, it seemed they'd found Sam first.

She knew they shouldn't have split up, she'd had a bad feeling from the start but she'd just put it down to hormones and the like. She'd been all over the place the last few weeks. Discovering she was not only a human witch, but part Angel that was fated and married, and that she could also have children, it had been a lot to digest. And to be honest, she was still coming to terms with the Angel side, as well as the being perfectly fertile part of it, too.

Things had been going too well for Hermione and her new family, she should've known something was going to come along and rip it all apart, it always did.

Her hands moved into her hair, pulling tightly at her roots in frustration. She had to do something. They had to get Sam back before it was too late.

She lifted her eyes slightly, catching the large blood stain on the carpet. It looked like a lot of blood; she only hoped it wasn't enough to be fatal. She couldn't let Sam die. She would save him. They would save him; they would kill the one responsible for hurting him and for the rest of the victims and families that had been destroyed. She would heal Sam and they would leave to continue with another case, whilst winding each other, laughing, joking, learning more about the other's worlds, and with her and Dean continuing to try for a baby, of which Sam would roll his eyes and tease them for.

Yes, that was what was going to happen. There would be no other outcome. She wouldn't allow there to be. With a new spark of determination, she stood up and gripped her wand tightly in her hand.

"Dean?" He continued pacing, back and forth, back and forth. "Dean?" She tried again. Back and forth, back and forth.

They would save Sam, but first she had to save her husband from himself.

She walked over to him, deliberately stepping into his path. He didn't notice and when he swivelled around to continue pacing, he walked straight into her, almost knocking her to the ground. On instinct he reached out to her, gripping her by the hips and pulling her into him.

He looked down at her blankly, as if not recognising her. She lifted her hand and pressed it to his cheek and she watched as his eyes fluttered closed, before they opened again, and she had her Dean back. His beautiful green eyes stared at her with such intensity, she felt as though he were going to burn a hole straight through her.

"Sammy's gone," he muttered.

"He is," she agreed softly.

"They've taken him."

"They have."

"He's hurt."

"More than likely," she said quietly, her hand still pressed against his cheek.

"He's dead?"

"No," she said resolutely. "No, he's not dead. He's not allowed to die, I forbid it, and should he disobey orders, I'll drag his arse from the grave and kill him myself."

Much to her relief, a spark entered his eyes at her words.

"That would be a fate worse than death," he muttered.