The Witch and The Hunters

CHAPTER NINETY-FIVE

Page count: 10

One month later...

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" Hermione asked.

She tugged her jacket on and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward to wrestle with her shoes. After a moment of quiet, frustrated huffing, Sam snorted. He pushed himself off his own bed and crossed the room, crouching in front of her.

"Hold still," he said.

She glared at him—half-annoyed, half-relieved—as he quickly helped her slip her shoes on. When he straightened, she muttered a quiet, "Thank you," just as he returned to flopping back onto his bed, smirking.

"No," Sam said, settling in. "I'll wait until it's finished. Makes it more of a surprise." He paused, then shook his head. "I still can't believe you and Dean bought a house. A real one. Permanent home base and everything."

"Why not?" she asked gently.

He shrugged, staring up at the ceiling. "Growing up, Dean never talked about anything but hunting. Never wanted a family. Never wanted roots. And now..." He huffed out a quiet breath. "Now he's married, about to be a dad, and planning a future. Sometimes it still doesn't feel real."

"That makes sense," Hermione said softly. "Especially knowing what his childhood was like."

Sam turned his head toward her. "He changed the second he met you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to him—to us."

Her throat tightened. She blinked quickly, refusing to let the tears fall. Sam would never let her live it down—and she'd probably kick him for it.

"Well," she said lightly, "that goes both ways. Ever thought about having a family yourself?"

He went quiet for a moment. "Back when I was in college. When I had Jess." His voice didn't waver, but the memory lingered. "After... her, I stopped thinking about it. Maybe someday. When I'm older, if I meet someone. If I can see that kind of life with them."

"You will," Hermione said without hesitation. "There's someone out there for everyone. Just look at me and Dean." She smiled faintly. "Maybe you need a witch."

Sam raised a brow, amused. "A witch?"

"What? Your brother certainly did. At this rate, the Winchester line's going to be full of Hunters, witches, and wizards. The world won't know what hit it."

He laughed quietly. "Maybe. You going to be gone long?" he asked.

"No," she shook her head. "A few hours, tops. That's why we took this case—it's only about an hour from Great Falls. As the baby grows, my magic and my body tires more easily." She rolled her eyes fondly. "Which is why Dean insists on a respite every two weeks."

Sam smirked. "Shocking."

"We're just checking on the house," she continued. "We'll be back by dinner."

"And England?" he asked. "Still the plan for this weekend?"

"Yes. I can't Apparate or use Port-keys anymore—not safely, not this far along. And Dean refuses to trap me in the Impala for two days." She smiled at the thought. "Mimsy's picking us up. Then Bobby. We'll Floo to England. Dinner at the Burrow at six—everyone'll be there. We've decided to tell them."

"Thank God," he breathed. "Keeping this secret has been hell."

She snorted. "I know. You've got a terrible poker face. And a big mouth."