The Witch and The Hunters

CHAPTER SEVENTY

Page count: 5

"Welcome home, Love," the man drawled.

She felt Dean stiffen beside her and the arm that had been previously held out in front of her to stop her from moving over to Sam, moved until it curled around her back and latched onto her hip. He pulled her into his side with his eyes narrowed on the figure and his gun gripped tightly in his hand.

Hermione was sure she'd heard that voice before, but she couldn't remember where, and it all became clear when the figure finally stepped into the beam of moonlight, his frame being lit up.

"It's you," Hermione frowned.

"Miss me, Darling?" he smirked.

"Not really," she replied aloofly. "To be honest, I could go the rest of my life without having to look at your ugly mug."

Dean turned his head to look at her, and when catching his eyes, she couldn't tell if he was surprised, proud or worried for her response, it was probably all three.

"What?" she asked innocently, though she kept the man in the corner of her eye.

"That's the King of Hell, Crowley," he muttered lowly, whilst also watching him from the corner of his eye.

"I know," she said lightly.

She turned her attention away from him, making sure she held her wand behind her back and out of sight. Crowley's eyes were darting between her and Dean, watching them carefully, but curiously.

She made a tutting sound. "I do hope that you've learned from your past mistakes and tied our Sammy to a comfortable chair, it wouldn't do well to upset me. My mood right now is not pleasant. I'd rather be home, eating a banoffee muffin whilst tucked up in bed, but instead, I'm here in the basement of a dark, creepy house, watching someone that I care for bleed out, and all over a shirt that I bought him, too. It wasn't cheap you know, and after we've kicked your arse, I'll be expecting you to reimburse the cost of the lovely shirt you've ruined."

Dean's hand tightened around her hip.

"So, you have a decision to make, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. The easy way, you untie Sam and get out of my sight and you leave us alone. And the hard way, you untie Sam, I beat you to death with your own limbs and then you leave us alone. I know which I'd prefer."

"My, my, you sure are feisty," he spoke, and much to Hermione's annoyance, he seemed to find her words amusing.

"I'm not a person that should be underestimated, particularly when I'm pissed, which it just so happens I am and it's your fault, meaning I can't be blamed for what happens next."

He smirked at her and clicked his fingers, though it seemed as though nothing had changed given Sam's and Dean's unresponsive behaviour, Hermione knew differently. She could feel it, a change in the atmosphere. She felt as though she was being watched, as though she was the prey and the predator was stalking her, waiting for the time to strike.

Her eyes darted about the room and she heard low growls, until she saw it. A large, black dog sidling up next to Crowley and standing by his side obediently. Hermione barely held in her gasp; it looked remarkably similar to a grimm and she'd only seen one in her life and it hadn't been a pleasant experience, though there were a few differences. Whereas grimms had large, red eyes, this creature seemed to have black, bottomless holes. Where grimms had thick, long fur, this creature had short fur that looked to be made of sharply pointed spikes. Her eyes flickered around the room, seeing that there were five more present, one at the top of the stairs guarding the door, the one beside Crowley and the last four slowly approaching them from different angles.