CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

Summary: Nine years after the war, Hermione's the Head of the Auror Department that specialises in dealing with Magical Creatures and fugitive Death Eaters that are loose in the Muggle World. With the fugitive Death Eaters no longer hiding in Britain, she's tracking rogue Death Eaters in the United States, which leads her to The Winchester brothers. The Witch and The Hunters are a dynamic trio that no creature, being or beast wishes to mess with, Magical or Supernatural. Hermione/Dean pairing. Rated M for a reason.

Disclaimer: I don't own original canon characters or events, just those that I create myself. Everything belongs to J.K Rowling and the creators of Supernatural. I am not making a profit posting this fanfic.

Page count: 8

Hermione sat on the edge of the bed with her head in her hands, only aware of Dean's frantic pacing due to the shadows moving across the disgusting carpet. She's been sat that way for almost half an hour. Dean had been pacing for longer.

Sam was gone. Someone, or worse, something had taken him. She wasn't sure she wanted to know which. They weren't even sure what they were dealing with, there was no pattern, there was no motive; everything appeared to be random. And whilst they had been searching for the one responsible, it seemed they'd found Sam first.

She knew they shouldn't have split up, she'd had a bad feeling from the start but she'd just put it down to hormones and the like. She'd been all over the place the last few weeks. Discovering she was not only a human witch, but part Angel that was fated and married, and that she could also have children, it had been a lot to digest. And to be honest, she was still coming to terms with the Angel side, as well as the being perfectly fertile part of it, too.

Things had been going too well for Hermione and her new family, she should've known something was going to come along and rip it all apart, it always did.

Her hands moved into her hair, pulling tightly at her roots in frustration. She had to do something. They had to get Sam back before it was too late.

She lifted her eyes slightly, catching the large blood stain on the carpet. It looked like a lot of blood; she only hoped it wasn't enough to be fatal. She couldn't let Sam die. She would save him. They would save him; they would kill the one responsible for hurting him and for the rest of the victims and families that had been destroyed. She would heal Sam and they would leave to continue with another case, whilst winding each other, laughing, joking, learning more about the other's worlds, and with her and Dean continuing to try for a baby, of which Sam would roll his eyes and tease them for.

Yes, that was what was going to happen. There would be no other outcome. She wouldn't allow there to be. With a new spark of determination, she stood up and gripped her wand tightly in her hand.

"Dean?" He continued pacing, back and forth, back and forth. "Dean?" She tried again. Back and forth, back and forth.

They would save Sam, but first she had to save her husband from himself.

She walked over to him, deliberately stepping into his path. He didn't notice and when he swivelled around to continue pacing, he walked straight into her, almost knocking her to the ground. On instinct he reached out to her, gripping her by the hips and pulling her into him.

He looked down at her blankly, as if not recognising her. She lifted her hand and pressed it to his cheek and she watched as his eyes fluttered closed, before they opened again, and she had her Dean back. His beautiful green eyes stared at her with such intensity, she felt as though he were going to burn a hole straight through her.

"Sammy's gone," he muttered.

"He is," she agreed softly.

"They've taken him."

"They have."

"He's hurt."

"More than likely," she said quietly, her hand still pressed against his cheek.

"He's dead?"

"No," she said resolutely. "No, he's not dead. He's not allowed to die, I forbid it, and should he disobey orders, I'll drag his arse from the grave and kill him myself."

Much to her relief, a spark entered his eyes at her words.

"That would be a fate worse than death," he muttered.

"It sure would, I have more hexes up my sleeve than you do weapons."

He snorted at her, feeling calm wash over him, making him wonder if she were using some kind of witchy magic over him, though he suspected it was most likely the bond they shared. Her presence and calmness helping to calm him, helping to focus his mind and get rid of the fuzziness that had taken up home in his head.

"We're not sure what we're dealing with yet. We don't have any possible locations. We don't know where he is. We don't know how to find him."

"Only three of those statements are true." She lifted her wand, giving it a little shake in her hand and his eyes flew to it. "We do know how to find him. Remember, Dean, I have my ways of tracking you, that's what I said to you the day I left for England, and I meant it. If it was required of me, I could track you. Though due to our circumstances, it's far easier for me to track you and Sam than it would be a stranger."

"How so?" He frowned.

"Three ways. The first being that I'm now bound to you and Sam through marriage, we share a bond and that can be used to track a person's location. My bond to you is far stronger than Sam's, so it'd be easier to track you than it would be him. Secondly, not only do you share blood with your brother, but there's plenty of it on the ground which I can use to track his location. Though this would be blood magic and illegal, and if it was called for, I wouldn't hesitate to break the law to find him, even if I risk being sent to Azkaban." She felt his grip on her hips tighten and his eyes flashed protectively. "And this leads me to my final point, my magic." He frowned in confusion.

She removed her hand from his cheek and brought it down to his chest, opening a few more buttons on his shirt to reveal the runes tattooed opposite his anti-possession tattoo. She ran her fingertips over the runes lightly and he shivered under her touch, feeling something inside of him flare up, feeling himself being licked at by flames.

"I fed my magic into your runes, and I did the same for Sam. Not only did that activate the rune protection markings, but my magic is sealed within the ink now."

"You can track us through our tattoos, by locking onto the signal of your magic held in the ink?" He questioned.

"Essentially, yes, I can. I can track my own magical signature. It's going to be a pain in the arse since I haven't fed any more of my magic into the runes for a while, so the signal will be weaker, plus I have to weed out the signatures that I'll pick up from myself and you, but it's possible. I can combine the blood on the carpet with my magical signature which will hopefully speed up the tracking process."

"How long?"

She bit her lip in thought. "I'm not sure, twenty minutes, maybe less, possibly more. It depends on the strength of the signature, as well as the distance from the spell caster."

"But we will find him?"

"I'm confident we'll find him, you have nothing to worry about. I assure you, the one responsible for hurting our Sammy will be made aware of the mistakes they've made."

She pulled away from him, before going over to the blood stain on the carpet and kneeling down beside it.

"You really care for him, don't you?" Dean spoke, sounding surprised.

"Of course I do. Not only is he your brother and I know how important he is to you, he's my friend and my brother, too, although through marriage. I love him just as you do. I love him just the same as I love all of my brothers. Harry, Draco, George, Bill and Charlie, even Percy, though he can be a bit of a prat at times, I still love him. I love them all equally. And now, I have Sam as a brother, too. I'd do for him exactly the same as I would for the others."

She looked up at him, seeing the softest expression she'd ever seen on his face, and it was aimed directly at her. Her stomach fluttered and her heart pounded under the intense gaze of his eyes.

"Now, come on, I need your help."

He approached her, squatting down beside her and she pressed the tip of her wand to the tattoo of runes on his chest, before pressing her free hand –rather reluctantly- into the blood stain on the carpet. Dean watched enraptured as Hermione closed her eyes and tilted her upwards slightly, and she began muttering under her breath, in what he would guess was Latin.

He shuddered when he felt the flames licking at his skin, swarming him comfortingly and protectively, and then he felt a tug from deep within him, followed by one at his heart and he barely held in the grunt of surprise.

He turned his eyes back to Hermione, she was silent now, though he could see her lips moving and her eyes were clearly moving beneath her closed eyelids. He felt another tug, and hope swelled within him. Hope, love and gratitude.

It was going to work. He didn't know how he knew it, he just did.

~000~000~000~

Twenty minutes later, Hermione's breathing suddenly picked up and she was making little gasping noises as if she couldn't breathe. He watched the colour drain from her face, and a sudden golden glow surrounded them both, before Hermione collapsed onto the floor, almost landing in the blood stain.

Dean hadn't been expecting it and therefore hadn't had the chance to catch her before she hit the ground. Luckily, she'd been on her knees at the time so she shouldn't have hurt herself too badly.

He moved over to her, lifting her into his arms and he stood up and moved over to the bed, placing her down in the centre of it as she lay unresponsive, but breathing. He watched and waited for something to happen, and thankfully, barely minutes later, her eyes fluttered open and she groaned.

"Ow, my head hurts," she grumbled. "Whoever's responsible for Sam's abduction has pissed me off further; I've got a pounding headache now. If the consequences before weren't severe, they bloody are now."

Despite himself and the situation, he couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped.

"Did it work?" He asked hopefully.

She nodded, and he was pleased to see that the colour was already returning to her face.

"Yes, it worked. I'm not exactly sure where he is, but the spell will lead us straight to him. What I do know is he's alive."

"Yeah?" Dean asked, looking relieved.

"Yes, he's alive. I was affected by the spell the way I was because my magical signatures collided, which means he's alive. If he'd been dead, that wouldn't have happened. My magic needs a living body to hold onto to stay active. We better get a move on though, from what I could feel, he may not have long left." He helped her to stand, she wobbled on her feet before gaining her balance. "Let's go get Sammy and bring him home," she said, seeing the way Dean's entire body relaxed as the last of the fear and anxiety left him.

Together they left the room, with Hermione warding it behind her so no one would enter and see the mess left behind and call the police, thinking a murder took place. As they climbed into the car, Hermione slipped on her boots, and Dean put his foot on the accelerator, following the directions from Hermione. She leaned back into the seat, her head tilted back and her eyes closed, trying to keep the connection between herself and Sam open.

~000~000~000~

"You sure?"

"Hmmm, turn left, approximately five-hundred meters. From what I can tell we should follow the road and it'll take us straight to Sam. The connection between the signatures is the strongest it's been yet."

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked anxiously, turning his head to see her practically dozing off; she looked exhausted.

"Hmm," she hummed tiredly. "Just tired, it's taken a lot of my magic to track Sam, and my magical core's a little unsettled. I don't tend to use this amount of magic in a month, let alone in a few hours."

He frowned, feeling worry wash over him. She'd explained what would happen should she ever fall into a magical exhaustive coma and he never wanted to put her at risk of doing so. He shouldn't have let her cast the spell. He should've put his foot down and demanded they find another way, a safer way of tracking Sam.

"Once all this is over and we've got Sammy back, we'll take a break."

She snorted. "We've barely been back a week and we're only on our second case. We've got a back log of up to ten cases we need to get through before we can even think about taking a few days off."

"No," he shook his head. "Sam's going to need a little time to heal anyway."

"I can magically heal him, and if it's too severe for my magic, we'll call for Castiel. He'll come if I threaten his feathery arse again."

He snorted. "Can he help you?"

She knew what he meant and she shook her head tiredly. "No, the only cure for this is rest. I need to rest to allow my magic to recharge itself."

"That's settled it then, when all this is over we'll take a couple of days to allow you to rest. No arguments."

"You're worse than Harry and Draco combined."

~000~000~000~

"Great. Why does it always have to be a creepy, haunted house?" Hermione asked, as she leaned against the Impala, staring at the large house that was standing in front of her in the dark of night.

It had long since grown dark and it was nearing ten o'clock. Hermione should've been fed long ago and in bed, snuggled with her husband. But no, she was tracking her abducted brother-in-law to an abandoned, creepy house, where she had no idea what lurked behind closed doors. There was going to be hell to pay for the one responsible.

"Would you prefer it be an abandoned warehouse or mental asylum?" Dean asked from his place by the car boot as he went through the newly improved weapons case.

"No, I've had several bad experiences with both."

He raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. "Are you sure you're alright to go in? I can do this by myself."

"And leave you without back up? Not a chance. I'll power through it and then take a monster nap in the car afterwards."

"You can barely stand up," he frowned.

"I'm fine," she waved him off.

After finishing with the weapons case, he walked over to her, pulling her away from the Impala and without the support she swayed on her feet.

"You are not going in there."

"I am too," she argued.

"Not!"

"Are!"

"Not!"

"Don't be an arsehole!"

"Don't be a bloody witch!"

She scowled at him.

"Kiss me,"

"What?" He blinked in surprise.

"Kiss me," she repeated.

"Why?" He eyed her warily.

She rolled her eyes, before gripping his jacket and pulling him down to her. She pressed herself up against him and her mouth claimed his. Despite his clear confusion, he happily kissed her back, and much to his surprise, when they pulled away from each other, she looked better.

She still looked tired, but less so. She was able to stand without risk of falling at least.

"Physical contact reaffirms and strengthens our bond, which in turn strengthens me. In short, by kissing me, you've given me a temporary energy boost. It won't last long, so we better get a move on. Have you got everything?"

"Yeah, you?" She held her wand up between them as her answer. "Then let's go."

Together they walked side by side towards the house and Hermione couldn't help but shiver when Dean touched the door and it slowly opened with a loud and eerie creak.

They stepped inside, seeing the dark and dingy sight that met them. Broken furniture littered around and sheets covering couches and tables, portraits on the walls and cobwebs and dust covering every surface and fixture in sight.

Dean looked to Hermione, his gun drawn and silently asking where to go. To the left and up the stairs, or straight ahead.

She indicated forward, and they slowly walked through the house, showing the rest of the house to have been just as abandoned as the entrance hallway. They walked through a parlour, followed by a living room, they made their way through the kitchen and to the back of the house, until they came to a door.

"Down there," Hermione said quietly. "There's stairs behind the door, I think it's a basement."

"Of course it is," Dean muttered.

Dean wouldn't allow Hermione to enter first; she rolled her eyes, but followed after him, the only sounds being that of the creaking steps as they descended the staircase.

Their eyes quickly adjusted to the dark of the room and once they'd descended the stairs, they heard a grunting noise.

They both spun around, Hermione with her wand gripped tightly in her hand and Dean with his gun pointed.

There was Sam, in the middle of the room, tied to a chair by his wrists, ankles and shoulders. Moonlight shone down on him through the broken window and Hermione could see the blood drops on the floor that led to him. Her eyes locked on his stomach, seeing the alarming blood stain that had soaked through his shirt.

The bloody shirt she'd bought him in England! And it hadn't been cheap either! Yet another reason there was going to be hell to pay.

She made to rush forward but Sam struggled in the chair, shaking his head from side to side, trying to say something but there was a piece of cloth tied over his mouth, preventing him from speaking. Dean's arm shot out, preventing her from moving to Sam, and his eyes swept their surroundings.

"It's too easy," he muttered. Sam's movement grew more frantic. "It's a trap."

Dean narrowed his eyes when a figure suddenly appeared behind Sam.

"FUCK!"