The Witch and The Hunters

CHAPTER NINETY-NINE

Page count: 25

"Okay. So, I'm officially lost," Sam said before anyone else could speak. "Who the hell is Chloe?"

Hermione didn't answer immediately.

Her hand tightened on the arm of the couch as she pushed herself upright, urgency burning through her veins.

"We have to go," she said.

Dean was on his feet instantly, catching her before she could storm off. "Whoa—slow down, sweetheart."

"Pack your things," she insisted. "We're leaving. Now."

"Hermione," he said gently, one hand settling instinctively over her stomach. The baby kicked beneath his palm, grounding her just enough to breathe. "Who's Chloe?"

She closed her eyes, forcing herself to steady her thoughts. "Chloe. The cheerleader. From when I went undercover at the school."

Sam grimaced immediately. Harry and Bobby exchanged curious looks at the reaction.

"The girl you befriended," Dean said quietly.

"Yes. That Chloe." She met his eyes. "When you left me to say goodbye to her, I gave her Harry's number. I told her that if she ever needed me—really needed me—to call it. Dean... If she's reaching out after nearly two years, something is wrong."

Dean glanced down at her stomach. "Sweetheart, you're less than a month from your due date. We agreed—no more hunting."

"I don't care," she said without hesitation. "I made her a promise. And if I ignore that—if I know she needs me and I do nothing—it's going to tear me apart. That kind of stress isn't good for the baby or me. It could send me into early labour, and I don't want that."

Her voice softened, but the resolve didn't waver. "We go to her. We find out what's wrong. And then we come straight home. No more cases. I promise. But please, Dean—I need to know why she called."

He held her gaze for a long moment.

Then he sighed, defeated in the way only love ever managed to accomplish. "Alright. We'll go. But the second anything looks off, you stay out of it. That's non-negotiable."

"Of course," she said immediately, both hands returning to her stomach.

Dean nodded once. "Sammy—pack a bag. Looks like we're taking a trip."

Sam didn't argue. He gave Hermione one last worried look before heading for the stairs—and the armoury. Whatever Chloe Walker meant, they weren't walking into it unarmed.

"We're taking Lucky," Hermione added.

Dean didn't even look at her. "That demon-pup is not getting in my car."

She rolled her eyes. "It was one time."

"He peed on the back seat."

"I cleaned it," she shot back. "And if you'd pulled over when I told you to, it wouldn't have happened."

As if summoned by the argument, the sound of bounding paws and a soft jingle filled the room. Hermione bent automatically, scooping Lucky up when he launched himself at her legs.

Harry stared.

"...Why is that collar floating?"

Bobby snorted quietly.

"This is Lucky," Hermione explained, unfazed. "I found him in an alley in Manhattan last month."

Harry blinked. "There's nothing there."