The Witch and The Hunters

CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE

Page count: 7

One month later...

"Why do you hate me!" Dean muttered.

"I don't hate you, stop being so dramatic," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes and moving to sit on the edge of the bed and tugging at the blanket Dean had pulled over his head.

She had to stop herself from laughing when he lowered the blanket and he glared at her weakly, his skin looking pale and sweat shining on his forehead.

"Then why did you wake me up?" He grouched.

"To see if you wanted some soup bringing back. Don't look at me like that, it's not my fault you're sick. I told you not to eat that burrito, it smelled funny and the colour was off."

"It tasted fine," he argued.

"If it was fine you wouldn't be spewing your guts up, now would you? Next time maybe you'll listen to me, after experiencing food poisoning I'm staying well away from all seafood. Now, do you want some soup bringing back or not?"

He scowled admitting defeat and shook his head. "No, I don't think I'll be able to keep it down, there's no point."

"Alright, make sure you keep yourself hydrated."

"I'll just throw it back up," he replied.

"Dip your finger into some water and rub it into your gums, it'll keep you hydrated without actually having to drink water. We've had to do it for the kids several times when they've had the flu and it works well. Sam and I shouldn't be gone too long, so I'll see you when I get back. Get some rest."

"I feel like shit."

"I know," she said.

"It wasn't this painful for you."

"If you say so," she said, trying to keep the amusement out of her voice and failing.

"It wasn't; you didn't have stomach cramps," he protested.

"Yes I did, though I didn't see any point in complaining about them, particularly since I also had period cramps to go along with the rest of my symptoms of vomiting, headaches, dizziness, sweating and aching muscles and joints, and don't you remember having to carry me out of the shower, helping me to dress and then putting me to bed? Get some rest and you'll feel better."

"I'm dying!"

"Well, can you make sure you do it quietly, we can't have you disrupting the neighbours?"

Before Dean could reply, she leaned over and kissed his forehead and then stood and left their motel room, heading straight to the Impala where Sam was waiting for her.

"Still complaining?" He asked as she climbed into the passenger's side and she shut the door behind her.

"Yes, he's adamant he's dying." Sam snorted. "For someone that's been stabbed, shot and dragged down to hell, he sure complains a lot when he has a mild case of food poisoning."

"You should see him when he's got a cold."

"I can't wait," she said sarcastically.

He chuckled at her. "So, back to business. Bodies then relatives or relatives then bodies?"

"Let's get the bodies out of the way, it's my least favourite part of the job."

"Morgue it is," he nodded, switching on the ignition.

"Want to make it interesting?" She asked.

"How so?" He replied curiously and turning in his seat to face her.