The Witch and The Hunters

CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE

Page count: 11

When Sam returned to the motel an hour later, both Hermione and Dean were dressed.

That alone was a small mercy.

Had he not known exactly what they'd been up to before he fled the room, it would've been obvious anyway — Dean's hair was still a mess, Hermione's curls refused to behave, and unmistakable mouth-shaped bruises were blooming along her neck.

Sam shuddered and forcibly shut that mental image down.

Thank God she wasn't still wearing the cheerleading uniform. He would never recover if she were.

He should've listened to her. He should've shut Dean down. Another Hunter could've taken the case. Instead, he was going to need therapy.

He dropped into the chair at the table and reopened his laptop, pointedly refusing to look at either of them — though he could feel their eyes on him.

"What?" he asked flatly, not looking up.

"Nothing," they said together.

Sam glanced up just in time to catch them exchanging a look.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I hate both of you." He shook his head. "Has Dean filled you in?" he asked, forcing his attention back to the screen.

"I filled her with something," Dean muttered.

It was not quiet.

Sam visibly gagged.

Hermione's glare could've peeled paint. A pillow launched across the room and smacked Dean square in the face.

Dean yelped. "Worth it."

Hermione's hand drifted very deliberately toward her wand on the nightstand.

Dean straightened instantly. Sam approved.

"No," Hermione said coolly. "He hasn't. What did you find?"

Sam cleared his throat. "Right. Case."

He leaned forward, slipping into work mode.

"Three deaths. Different ages, different looks, different social circles — but same school, same extracurricular. All cheerleaders."

Hermione nodded, expression sharp now.

"Karen Myers. Sixteen. Nine months ago. Drowned in the school pool — hit her head, went under. Zoe Winters. Eighteen. Four months ago. Found hanging in the janitor's supply closet. Ruled a suicide." He paused. "Jess Hughes. Seventeen. Three months ago. Died in a single-car collision just outside school grounds."

Hermione frowned. "That close together... and no one's talking about it?"

"Exactly," Sam said. "Different causes of death, no witnesses, all near or on campus. It's quiet. Too quiet."

Hermione tapped her fingers against her knee. "No one mentioned it to me either. Not the team, not the staff. They just said they needed members."

Dean leaned back against the bed. "Which is never suspicious."

"There's a football game in three days," Hermione continued. "The season carried over because of bad weather. Visiting teams, parents, alumni. The campus will be open."

Sam nodded. "Perfect cover."

"You can walk the grounds without breaking in," Hermione added. "If anyone asks, you're family."

Dean smirked. "I like this plan."

"I bet you do," Sam muttered. "In the meantime, Hermione digs with the cheerleaders. I'll keep pulling records and see if there's a pattern — something that connects the girls beyond pom-poms and poor life expectancy."