The Witch and The Hunters

CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN

Page count: 10

Two months later...

"I'm hun—"

"Hungry, we know," Dean and Sam said in unison.

Hermione scowled at them from the passenger seat.

"We're about an hour out from Muncie," Dean said mildly. "Think you can last?"

She turned slowly and looked at him like he'd just suggested she chew on gravel.

Sam snorted. Dean shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Right. Thought not. There's a town coming up—we'll stop for an hour and get you fed."

"She's not as bitchy when she's full," Sam added helpfully.

Hermione twisted in her seat and smacked his knee.

"Ow!" Sam hissed.

Dean snorted. "You ever think before you speak, Sammy?"

"For that comment," Hermione said sweetly, "I'm ordering more than usual. And you're paying."

Sam scoffed. "Like you don't already order half the menu."

"Sammy," Dean drawled, "you're pushing your luck. And I'm not stopping her from hexing you. Not after last time—that made my week."

"You're just scared of her," Sam shot back.

"That too," Dean agreed easily.

Hermione crossed her arms. "I am sitting right here, you know."

"We know," Sam said. "You've been complaining for two hours."

She leaned over the seat and swung for him again.

Sam caught her wrist, smug. She narrowed her eyes.

"Don't make me come back there."

"I'd like to see you try."

Dean barely had time to register movement before Hermione vaulted the seat and landed in the back.

Chaos ensued.

Dean snorted, eyes flicking between the road and the rearview mirror. "You're gonna get hurt, Sammy."

"I doubt—ow! That hurt!"

Dean glanced back just in time to see Sam clutching his chest and Hermione wearing a look of deep, vindicated satisfaction.

Dean burst out laughing. "Jesus."

"That's what you get for being a prat," Hermione said, already climbing back into the front.

She settled beside Dean, adjusting her jacket like nothing had happened.

"Feeling better?" he asked, amused.

"No," she replied flatly. "I'm still hungry. I haven't eaten in hours."

"Heaven forbid you starve," Sam muttered.

Hermione twisted again, eyes sharp. "Careful, or you're getting another nipple twister."

Sam immediately crossed his arms over his chest.

Dean laughed harder, shaking his head—then his gaze caught on the road sign ahead.

Welcome to Cicero.

His smile faded slightly.

He'd been here before. Hadn't he?

Something tugged at the back of his mind—half-formed, slippery—but Hermione and Sam's bickering dragged him back to the present before it could take shape.