The Witch and The Hunters

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

Page count: 8

Two weeks later...

"Case?" Dean asked the moment Hermione pushed open the motel door, breakfast bag in hand.

"Yes," she said, kicking it shut behind her and tossing the food onto the table.

"It's not another Boggart, is it?" Dean's tone carried that very specific brand of Winchester dread.

Hermione snorted. "No. Merlin forbid we ever deal with one of those again."

All three of them went quiet for a beat. None of them talked about the Boggart—ever—, but all three knew that night had cracked something open between them. Dean and Hermione had been glued together for days afterwards, and Sam had been gentler than usual, too. It had changed them. All of them.

Hermione shook it off. "This one's a little different. And by different, I mean you two are not allowed to panic and shoot at the first thing that moves."

Dean unwrapped his breakfast sandwich suspiciously. "Okay... now I'm intrigued. What are we dealing with?"

"For the first time in your lives," Hermione said, lifting her tea like she was making a toast, "we're not killing anything. Our target isn't dangerous."

Both brothers stared at her like she'd grown a second head.

She continued, amused, "We've been tasked with finding a lost herd. Three of them. One might be injured. Our job is to track them down, stabilise the injured one, and return the herd to the Wizarding World. That's it. No death. No monster hunt. No murder-y nonsense. Consider it your long-overdue break."

"A herd?" Sam blinked. "Like... cows?"

Hermione gave him a pitying look. "No."

Dean narrowed his eyes at her expression. "Okay, that look right there—that's your 'this'll be hilarious for me but traumatic for Dean' face. What creature is it?"

"You'll see," she said cheerfully, entirely too cheerfully. "It's a surprise."

"That's not reassuring."

"It's not supposed to be," she smirked. "Now eat. I got the last-known location of the herd before they went missing. We need to follow their trail tonight. They're nocturnal."

Sam perked up. "So... tracking, not fighting?"

"Correct."

Dean pointed a finger at her. "If this surprise has fangs, breathes fire, or tries to eat me—"

Hermione grinned. "Dean... you're going to love them."

The brothers exchanged a long, wary look.

Dean muttered, "I already hate this."

~000~000~000~

"Are we even going the right way?" Sam asked for what had to be the fifteenth time.

"Yes," Hermione sighed, not bothering to hide her irritation.

"I'm sure we've passed that tree twice already," he insisted, pointing to a huge oak on their left as they trudged through the thick woods.

"No, we haven't," she deadpanned. "You're thinking of the tree half a mile back—that one had lower branches."

"Yeah, well—"

"Sammy," Dean drawled, a smirk tugging at his mouth, "she's gonna smack you."

Hermione's grip on her wand tightened, her jaw clenched, and Sam wisely shut his mouth for a whole two seconds.