The Witch and The Hunters

CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT

Page count: 11

Two weeks later...

"Have you seen Hermione?" Dean asked as he stepped into the motel room, the door shutting softly behind him. The scent of grease and salt followed him in, paper bags rustling in his hands.

Sam glanced up from where he was stretched across the bed. "She left not long after you. Said she had a hunch about the case. Went to the library."

Dean frowned. "You didn't go with her?"

Sam shrugged. "She wanted some time alone. Can't really blame her. Even family gets overwhelming after a while."

Dean's jaw tightened. "If anything happens to her—"

"She'll be fine," Sam said, already tired of the conversation. "She's a war veteran. Powerful. Half witch, half Angel. She can handle herself."

Dean didn't respond. He set the food down a little harder than necessary and disappeared into the bathroom.

When he came back, he sat at the small table and ate in silence. The food might as well have been cardboard. His thoughts weren't in the room.

"She's fine," Sam repeated, softer this time.

"She better be," Dean said flatly. "Or you're getting your ass kicked."

Sam snorted and went back to reading one of Hermione's books, the room settling into uneasy quiet.

The phone rang.

Dean answered before the second vibration.

"Hermione?" he said, keeping his tone light. "Everything alright, Glinda? Sam said you went to do some digging."

"Yeah," she said—and paused. "About that..."

Dean straightened. "Why are you whispering?"

Her breathing was off. Too fast. Too shallow.

"Don't get mad."

Dean stood, already reaching for his keys. "Hermione. What did you do?"

"I might need backup," she said quickly. "It's a vengeful spirit. Took some digging, but I found where the body's buried. I need one of you to deal with that while I keep it distracted. It's already locked onto its next victim—me.

"What!?"

"Yeah, I got the guy to safety, and now this nutter's really mad."

Dean's grip tightened on the phone. "Where are you?"

"The office building near the motel. Underground parking. I broke in—camera wipe later—shit—"

A scream cut through the line.

Then the phone clattered to the ground.

"Hermione?" Dean said sharply. "Hermione, talk to me."

In the background, something slammed hard enough to echo. Metal screeched. His chest went tight at the sound of gunfire.

Then—

"I'm fine," she gasped. "Bought myself some time. The body's under the oak near the bridge at the town entrance. It'll be quicker if you both go there. Fuck—she's back—"

The line went dead.

Dean stared at the phone for half a second too long. Then he snapped it shut and shoved it into his pocket.

"Vengeful spirit," he said, already moving. "She's found the body."

Sam was on his feet.

Dean didn't slow. Didn't explain. Didn't hesitate.