Falling Through
Summary: Harry Potter searched for months to find and destroy all of Voldemort's Horcruxes so that the Dark Lord could be killed, but on the day of what should be the final battle, he finds that the evil wizard still won't die. The side of light is forced to retreat into hiding, but Harry and his friends and allies can find no clue to the mystery that surrounds Voldemort's immortality. With no options left, Harry knows that he must follow his instincts and set off on his own if he has any hope of finding the answer. But before he can find the information he seeks, he stumbles upon Sam Winchester, knee deep in demons and reeling from the death of his last remaining family: Dean. Little does Harry know that his journey is only just beginning, and the truth is much larger and more frightening then he ever could have imagined.
Pairings: Harry/Dean (possibly others?)
Authors Notes: All right, I want to start by clarifying that, yes, this is another HP/SPN crossover with a Harry/Dean pairing. But I haven't seen any wherein Voldemort is still alive, so I think that should be enough of a twist to make it different than what's out there. Harry Potter canon is mostly intact, though I'm probably going to ignore most of the lore about the Deathly Hallows, or at least ignore the fact that Dumbledore thought they were so important in Voldemort's downfall. You'll see why soon enough. There will probably be a few other small changes, mostly to events in DH, that will become apparent, but nothing that will drastically affect the plot.
The timelines are set up such that the end of (what would have been) Harry's seventh year coincides with the end of SPN Season 3 (if you couldn't guess that from the summary). Thus, the story will begin with Season 4 of SPN and after the end of HP (ignoring the epilogue, of course. There will be spoilers for all four seasons, and probably for some information in Season 5 as well, so if you don't want to know, I suggest you turn back now.
One last thing to all of you out there who may fear I've given up on To The Night: I haven't! I promise. I got stuck on it for awhile, and though I started working on it again, it's not in sequence for the plot, so I don't have anything to post right now. I can pretty much promise that you're not going to get an update until at least December though, as I'm technically doing this fic for Nanowrimo (and, I might add, am terribly behind on, but I have the whole week of Thanksgiving off from work and I'm hoping to play catch-up then). But I wanted to assure you all that I still have every intention of finishing it. That being said, if you're into HP and SPN, I hope you'll give this fic a try as well.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Supernatural. I truly wish I did, but then I would actually be making money from it, not posting it on here, which would mean I could quit my job and maybe be happy, and that, of course, could never happen.
Falling Through, Chapter One
Harry was fairly certain that he had a high tolerance for putting up with other people's annoying habits and mercurial moods. He was, after all, best friends with Ron and Hermione, and he had been known to get into a snit of his own now and then. Even so, he was beginning to lose his patience with Sam.
It wasn't that he didn't have sympathy for the older guy. He, like Harry, had no family left, and, worse, it wasn't as though he'd grown up that way. He'd had his father and, most recently, his older brother. An older brother who had voluntarily gone to hell so that Sam might live. Ruby, of course, had been the one to reveal the details about Dean's death; Sam had been reluctant to tell Harry about his family at all.
There was also the fact that Sam was on some sort of mission. He wasn't so different from Harry in that regard, though his own mission had something to do with demons. Like with his family, Sam wouldn't say much, so Harry didn't know if his actions were because of some fated purpose or because he chose it. It didn't matter either way, he supposed, because from the little Sam had said on the matter, it was clear that he believed it was his duty.
Even so, Harry was about moments from blowing up at his new companion. He understood, maybe more than anyone, what Sam was going through, and though he had gotten down at times and angry at times, he didn't think he'd ever been this ridiculous. Sam would go off alone with Ruby and come back almost manically happy one time, angry the next. More often angry than happy, but either of those emotions could give way to an apathetic depression that worried Harry the most.
Of course, Harry knew that he was the one butting in here, the one who had shown up out of nowhere and announced his intentions to follow Sam around. To be fair, Sam had taken it better than most would have, maybe better than he should have, even assuming that Harry had saved his life. Twice. And for that Harry was thankful. But now … something was happening with Sam, and Harry knew he needed to do something about it, the same way he'd known to leave England, the same way he'd known exactly where he needed to be when he'd save to save Sam from the demons in Lilith's trap. Which was why he didn't know how much longer he could sit there and listen to Sam slamming books around without really looking into any of them and making little angry growling noises that Harry was fairly certain Sam didn't know he was making aloud.
When Sam began mumbling to himself, followed by: "Why the hell are all of these demon references so damn vague?" he was saved from Harry's built-up wrath only by a knock that sounded on the door.
Probably the pizza Harry had ordered. Sam had claimed he wasn't hungry, but Harry was, and he knew from experience that the hunter needed to eat something after a meeting with Ruby. Sam looked over at Harry and acknowledged the intrusion by heading into the bathroom.
Harry sighed and stood up, looking after Sam for a moment before moving to the door of the hotel room and pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. He was still holding it when he peered out the door -- he wasn't stupid enough to open it without at least checking for a possible threat -- and was dismayed to find two men standing there, one who looked to be a couple years older than Sam and one who looked to be in his fifties, neither holding a pizza.
Putting the wallet away, Harry fingered the tip of his wand, easily accessible from its hiding place inside his sleeve, and pulled the door open. The men seemed startled when they caught sight of him. Perhaps they were here for Sam? But if so, how had they found him?
"Since you're clearly not here delivering a pizza, what can I help you with?" Harry asked.
At the sound of his voice -- the accent, Harry suspected -- both men seemed to deflate a little bit. "Is this room 213?" the older one asked.
"Yes," Harry replied. "What do you need?"
"Nothing, I think," the younger replied, his voice rough. "We must have been given the wrong room number. Sorry to bother you."
They began to turn away, but Harry had a strong feeling that they hadn't gotten the wrong room. "Wait," he called.
They turned back, the older one slightly eclipsing the younger, but before anyone could say anything else, a voice sounded from behind Harry.
"Bobby?"
Harry turned to look at Sam as his eyes trailed from the older man to the second person standing outside their room.
Sam's eyes narrowed. "What the fuck?" he exclaimed. "Bobby, what the hell is going on?"
"Now, Sam," Bobby said placatingly. "Just calm down for a minute and let us explain."
Harry watched, head swiveling back and forth between the two parties. Sam's previous anger had morphed into rage.
"Get inside," he growled.
Harry stepped back, allowing entrance for the two men, the cogs in his head beginning to turn. He was only just beginning to suspect that something impossible was true (it wasn't as though Harry hadn't witnessed the impossible before) when, upon the shutting of the door, Sam pounced into action. Before Harry could say or do anything, his companion had the younger man pinned up against the wall, holding him firmly by the biceps.
"What the hell are you?" Sam yelled. "Christo!" But the man didn't flinch.
"Honestly, Sam, do you think that wasn't the first thing I checked?" Bobby asked scathingly.
"What, you're a shapeshifter, then?" Sam yelled.
"He's not a shifter," Bobby interrupted again, this time trying to pull Sam away from the younger man.
Harry paused only for a moment to consider his actions; he knew what he had to do. Quickly drawing his wand from his sleeve, he drew it and pointed it at Bobby before using his left arm to pull him away from Sam. Bobby, of course, wasn't exactly pleased by this and took a swing at Harry before he had even focused on the wizard. Because of what Sam had taught him about fighting so far -- not enough in Harry's opinion, now that he knew all of the things out there his wand likely would have much effect on -- he was able to bend out of the way. This left Bobby unbalanced enough that Harry was able to shove him a good few steps back, and further away from Sam, and to make sure that the man got a good look at his wand. Harry didn't particularly want to use magic on someone who wasn't a threat, or at least whom he suspected wasn't, but he couldn't take any chances. Although Bobby likely didn't know what the wand was, Harry could tell that he recognized it as a weapon. He grumbled a little bit, but he didn't try to make any more movements. Harry kept an eye trained on him, just to be sure.
Sam, who still had a firm hold on the younger of their two visitors, didn't say anything to either stop or encourage Harry, but he did seem more comfortable without Bobby at his back. He turned to face his captive.
"What, did you honestly think I'd be stupid enough to fall for this?" Sam asked, voice rising again. "How did you get this form? And what did you do to Bobby? Or is he not really Bobby?"
"I didn't do anything to Bobby, Sammy," the man pled, not even struggling. "He believes me because I'm telling the truth. I'm not a shifter. It's me. Dean. Your brother."
Although, on some level, this was what Harry had been expecting to hear, it still took him so much by surprise that he couldn't move for a long moment. This was his excuse for why he was able to do nothing but watch what happened over the next few minutes.
Sam didn't seem as affected as Harry by Dean's words. "You can't be him. You're fucking lying. You can't be Dean!" he yelled.
Dean seemed to be getting frustrated. "It's me, Sammy, in the flesh."
It was clear to everyone in the room that they weren't getting anywhere. It seemed they might be at an impasse when, in a split second, Dean's face scrunched up in exertion and he shoved Sam off of him, reaching down and pulling a knife out of his boot. Before either Sam or Harry could prepare to defend themselves, Dean lifted the knife to his own arm and pulled the silver blade across it. A line of blood formed and began dripping down his arm.
"See Sam? A silver blade - would you like to check it yourself? - and my blood's not burning, I'm not dying. Just a normal, human wound. Do you believe me now?" he asked. "Or do you want me to drink some holy water? Is there some other test I can do to prove it?"
Sam just stood there for a minute, as frozen as Harry, before all the anger fell from his face, giving way to relief and happiness and just a little bit of confusion. Then he sprang into action again, this time pulling Dean into a hug rather than attacking him, holding onto his brother's form as if it were life itself. Dean clung back; Harry could only see Dean's face, not Sam's, but the tears that were shining in his eyes probably mirrored Sam's, and quite suddenly Harry felt like a voyeur, watching them. He turned away, belated lowering his wand from Bobby and sticking it back up his sleeve.
Then the moment passed, Sam and Dean stepped away from each other, and the four men all looked around at each other.
"All right," Sam finally spoke. "So you're really Dean. But how?"
"That's exactly what we were going to ask you," Bobby replied with excessive seriousness, in Harry's opinion, anyway. "And another question that needs to be asked: why the hell you got a wizard staying with you?"
Harry, who had been looking at Dean now that he had a chance to do so without suspicion, turned to look at Bobby. "You know what I am?" he asked.
"Of course I know, you're carrying a damn wand, aren't you? What else would you be, idjit?"
Harry felt his face redden. "Sam didn't know," he defended.
"Yeah, well, Sam wouldn't have," Bobby replied. "But I have more experience than him."
Harry brushed his fingers over the tip of his wand, itching to pull it out again. "You're not going to try and … kill me, are you?"
"Not yet," Bobby deadpanned.
"Not at all," Sam interrupted. "Harry can be trusted."
"You trust too easily, Sam," Dean told him, looking over at the young man. Even though he was referring to the wizard, Harry couldn't help but agree. "So maybe you trust him, but that doesn't mean I do."
"Yeah, well, at this point, I don't even know if I can trust you for sure," Sam shot back. "You may be Dean, but you've been in hell for four months."
"He has a point, Dean," Bobby cut in. "I know you said you don't remember anything, but do you feel any differently? At all …"
"Demonic?" Dean asked. "No! It's me, you guys, it's the same me."
"So how exactly did this same you get out of hell then? Last I heard, the demons weren't just letting people walk free, especially not one they want as much as you," Sam pointed out.
"We were hoping you would know something about that, Sam," Bobby said gravely. "And from the sounds of it, you do."
When Sam didn't deny it right away, Dean pounced on his silence. "How much did it cost you, Sammy?" he yelled. "How much time you got left? I hope they gave you a better deal than they gave me, but I sincerely doubt it. You're Sam Winchester."
"It didn't cost anything," Sam replied tightly. He could see the looks of doubt in Bobby and Dean's faces. "It didn't! They wouldn't make a deal. There's a new crossroads demon, and … they wanted you down there, Dean, more than they wanted me."
"But … that doesn't even make sense," Dean reasoned.
"No," Sam agreed. "It really doesn't. Especially if Lilith's the one who holds the deals. I thought she wanted me dead more than anything."
"So the question becomes: what demon with enough power to pull you out of hell would actually want to pull you out, and for what purpose? Whoever it was didn't do it out of the goodness of their hearts," Bobby reasoned.
"And whatever they're planning must be big," Sam added. "Otherwise they wouldn't risk bringing Lilith's wrath down upon themselves."
Harry was silent as Bobby and the brothers reasoned amongst themselves, but he had other ideas. "What if it wasn't a demon at all?"
All three men looked at him skeptically. "What else would it have been?" Dean asked.
"I don't know!" Harry replied. "But you've all said you can't imagine what demon would have the power and everything to be able to do it and to risk doing it, so maybe it wasn't a demon. I mean, it's possible, isn't it?"
"I don't know of anything else that could do it," Bobby replied. "And it's doubtful you're going to find anyone who would. But yes, I suppose theoretically it could have been something else."
Sam sighed heavily. "And so that leaves us with … absolutely nothing."
"Well." They all looked over at Dean. "Well, there is this one thing."
He stripped off his jacket and then pulled up the sleeve of his tee shirt, revealing a raised red welt in the shape of a hand print.
"And," Dean added, "look at the rest of my body."
He lifted the hem of his shirt, revealing a smooth, pale abdomen. His body was tight and well defined; Harry wasn't sure of the significance of what he was seeing, but he couldn't deny the jolt that tightened his stomach at the sight. It made him distinctly uncomfortable, and so he looked away towards Sam.
"All of your old scars," Sam was saying. "They're gone."
"Do you have any idea what could do something like this?" Dean asked.
"Not a clue," Sam replied. "But I'm starting to like Harry's not-a-demon theory more and more."
"I don't have a clue either," Bobby cut in. "But whatever it was that saved Dean, it was something more powerful than we've ever encountered."
"So what do we do now?" Sam asked, stepping back and lowering himself onto the edge of his bed. "Where do we even begin?"
"Pontiac, Illinois," Bobby said. Everything went quiet for a moment. "What? I know a psychic there. Whatever is going on, it's big. Maybe the spirits are talking about it."
"What are we waiting for?" Dean asked. "Let's go."
"Let me pack up my stuff," Sam said, nodding his head in agreement. "Come on, Harry."
The two companions stood up, Sam moving to one side of the room and Harry the other, where he began gathering up a few pieces of stray clothing, books he'd been reading, and other odds and ends.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa,. What do you think you're doing, wizard boy?" Dean asked. Harry looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. "This is good-bye. We're going to the psychic. You're going back to wherever you came from."
"Dean!" Sam interrupted. "You're coming, Harry. Unless you don't want to."
"Sam, he's a wizard," Dean argued.
"And you're a jackass, you don't see me wanting to leave you behind," Sam replied.
"Ignorant morons," Bobby drawled, cutting off the arguing brothers. "A wizard's magic is his own, Dean; there's nothing inherently good or evil about it. I'm not saying I trust 'im yet, but I'd trust him as much as any hunter who's been with Sam for a few months and not tried to hurt him."
"Thank you, Bobby," Sam replied, sending Dean a little glare.
"I'm not finished," Bobby responded. "As for you, idjit, why would you take up with a wizard when you didn't even know what he was capable of?"
Sam didn't respond right away, considering his words. "I didn't have a choice, Bobby."
"What the hell does that mean?" Bobby asked.
He didn't get an answer. Sam just turned away and continued packing; Harry followed his lead, choosing to put his things away muggle-style. He'd only just begun using his magic casually around Sam, and he knew that it would make Dean and Bobby extremely uncomfortable at this point. They were still ready to go within minutes.
"Do you mind taking the back, Harry?" Sam asked as they made their way out to the Impala. "I have a feeling that Dean is gonna want to drive."
"Not a problem," Harry agreed, dumping his bag into the back seat before climbing in after it.
Sam and Dean entered the front, and although Dean put up a bit of a fuss over Sam's addition of an iPod to his "baby," going to far as to pull it out and toss it backwards into Harry's forehead, they quickly pulled the car out of the motel lot and onto the road.
As usual, Harry drifted off while on the road, though the drive wasn't a particularly long one. He'd found over the past few months that he really didn't like being in the car, and had learned the hard way not to try and read while Sam was driving. Sleeping was the only logical way to pass the time, and Harry was beyond used to getting It whenever he could. He didn't wake until after they'd stopped, Sam reaching back and poking him awake. He was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes when a gorgeous brunette greeted them at the door.
The woman, Pamela, hugged Bobby like an old friend, flirtatiously eyed up Sam and Dean, and gazed curiously over at Harry.
"Who's the kid?"
"Not a kid," Harry argued. "I'm eighteen."
"Barely a man," Pamela commented. "What's your name?"
"Harry."
She eyed him suspiciously. "Harry, huh?"
"Don't worry about him," Sam told her. "I trust him." He was beginning to sound like a broken record, repeating that phrase so much.
"Well, you'd better all come inside. No one seems to know what could have pulled Dean from hell, so I'm thinking the next step is a séance."
"A séance. We're going to summon the damn thing here?" Bobby asked skeptically.
"Not exactly," Pamela replied. "More like a sneak peek." She gave them all a smirk.
They followed her inside, Dean continuing to flirt, Sam watching, and Harry looking around in fascination. Not for the first time since he'd met Sam, he wished he'd decided to take Ancient Runes. It would have been a heck of a lot more useful than Divination had turned out to be.
He found a particularly interesting symbol painted directly onto one wall; Harry was almost sure he had seen it before. Lines of it were oddly reminiscent of snakes; perhaps it was something from the Chamber of Secrets? Harry leaned towards it to get a better look and his hair, still worn longer than he'd really like in order to hide his scar, fell into his eyes. He reached up to brush it back, unselfconscious about it around people who apparently knew little or nothing about wizards, and continued studying it further.
He froze a moment later when he felt a body stepping up behind him. He spun around to find Pamela's face mere inches from his own. She was practically purring. "Harry. Do you have a last name?"
Harry had to force himself not to feel intimidated. "It would seem you already know what it is."
"Harry Potter. You know, your name has come up more than once recently. It makes sense now," she said. "And the power I can feel radiating off of you."
"Have you ever met a wizard in person before?" he asked.
"No," she replied. "You care to tell me what exactly you're doing so far from home, and in the company of Sam Winchester?"
Harry was quite aware that he was being closely observed. He was quite certain that none of them, save possibly Sam, would believe the truth, but it was the only thing he could think to say."
"I don't know. I just don't …" he broke off for a moment. "I don't expect you to believe me, but it's true. Back home, I was stuck. I didn't know how to proceed, what to do next. There was nothing I could do. But my instincts were telling me that I had to leave, and I've always had good instincts."
"And now your instincts are telling you to follow Sam around like a stalker?" Dean asked.
Harry flushed. "Does it count as stalking if he knows I'm there and interacts with me?" he asked. He wasn't expecting an answer. "But the answer is basically yes."
Dean turned to Sam. "This kid," he said, emphasizing the word, "has a screw loose. But whatever."
The tension was broken, Harry deciding not to share with Dean how many people would agree with his assessment of Harry's sanity. Pamela instructed them all to sit down around the table and join hands. She settled herself down with a hand covering the mark on Dean's shoulder rather than including herself in the circle. Harry had no idea what to expect, but he had a bad feeling about what they were doing.
"All right then," Pan said. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, turning her voice hard and commanding. "I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle. I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle."
As Pam continued to repeat the phrase, a sinking feeling settled into Harry's stomach. Somehow, he knew, without a doubt in his mind, that she shouldn't be doing what she was about to do. Yet when he tried to say so, to stop her, he found that he couldn't do it. Besides, why would she believe him? She didn't really seem to trust him.
"Castiel?" she said suddenly. The name only made Harry's stomach clench even more. "No, I'm sorry, Castiel. I don't scare easy."
"Castiel?" Dean asked.
"It's name," she said as an aside. "He's telling me to turn back." She went back to focusing on the séance. "I conjure and command you, show me your face. I conjure and command you, show me your face."
The flames of the candles in the middle of the table burned brighter. A television off to the side blared loudly with snow.
"Maybe you should stop," Bobby suggested. Harry couldn't have agreed more.
"No, I've almost got it," she hissed. "I conjure and command you, show me your face. Show me your face, now!"
All of a sudden, the candles flared, the flames turning bright white and larger than should have been possible. Harry was temporarily blinded, but he could clearly hear Pamela's gasp, and then her screams. A moment later, the flames died completely and everything went silent but for Pamela's whimpering screams. Harry blinked and then he saw it: where Pam's eyes had once been were bloody, charred holes.
"Oh, Merlin," Harry breathed.
Bobby and Dean rushed to Pam's side, lowering her to the floor. "I can't see! I can't see!" she was crying.
"Call 911!" Dean ordered.
Sam ran to do his bidding.
"My eyes!" Pamela moaned.
Harry could do nothing but stare. Could he have prevented this, if he had said something? He tried to convince himself it wouldn't have mattered - she hadn't listened to Bobby, so she definitely wouldn't have listened to him. But what really bothered him: what in the world could do something like burn her eyes out? He was a wizard. He was Harry Potter, he'd seen, or at least heard of, some of the most frightening things out there, and he hadn't a single idea.
It was late when he woke. His wand was in his hand as soon as his eyes had popped open, but he quickly realized that what had disturbed his sleep wasn't a danger. It was just Sam, standing right inside the doorway. He was studying Dean carefully, presumably to make sure his brother was still asleep. Satisfied, he turned toward the couch where Harry lay, frowning when Harry looked back at him, wide awake.
Glancing over to check that Dean was indeed asleep, Harry sighed quietly and climbed off the couch, slipping his feet into his shoes. Sam's frown grew more pronounced, but he motioned Harry to go outside before him after he'd opened the door as quietly as possible.
"Where are you going?" Harry whispered as soon as the door was shut.
"Just to get a burger," Sam replied.
Harry snorted. "Right."
"Go back inside, Harry," Sam ordered. "Go get some sleep."
"No," he replied. "You're going back to the diner, aren't you? You're going to find the demons there? They don't know anything, Sam. They know less than we do."
"They might," Sam hedged. "Listen, I couldn't … I may be able to get them to talk, but I couldn't do it in front of Dean."
"This has something to do with Ruby, doesn't it?" Harry asked.
"I told you not to ask about that," Sam replied. Harry could tell that he was beginning to get very annoyed.
"Why are you so adamant about hiding what you do when you go off with her?" Harry asked. "I could understand if you were shagging her, but …" Harry broke off when he noticed Sam's flinch. His mouth fell open before he could stop it. "Oh, my God. You are shagging her. A demon, Sam?"
"It was once," Sam defended. "It had been an awful night, and I just … well, I needed something, and Ruby was there."
"And she's a demon," Harry pointed out. "Not that I'm judging. I just didn't think you'd go there."
"Shut up," Sam replied.
"Good comeback," Harry taunted.
Sam scowled. "Well, it's not like there's another soul stuck in there or anything. You saw the papers, too. And she's hot."
"She is," Harry agreed. "But then, who wouldn't pick a hot body if they could choose?"
"Well. Yeah." Sam considered this. Then, quite suddenly, his face fell. Harry was confused. "Hey. You can't tell Dean about any of this."
"Oh?" Harry said, interest piqued. "Big brother wouldn't approve?"
"Dean'd probably try to have me committed," Sam explained. "Besides, I … well, I kinda already told him Ruby was still dead, at least as far as I know. And that I'm not using my powers."
Harry smirked. "An awful lots of secrets from a brother you claim to be so close to."
"We are close. I'd do anything for him," Sam insisted. "That's why I'm not telling him about this. He wouldn't understand, and he doesn't need to."
Harry wanted to argue; he wasn't sure why. He'd known Dean for less than a day. He couldn't exactly claim authority on how Dean would react to what Harry had just discovered. But all the same, Harry had a feeling that it would be better for everyone if Sam would just admit everything that had been happening.
"He doesn't need to know, Harry. You're not going to tell him."
Harry sighed. "They're not my secrets to tell. But I'm coming with you."
"No. You're not. You're going back inside and getting some sleep."
"If I go back in there, it's not going to be quietly. And I'm guessing that Dean is a light sleeper, like us."
"You just said you wouldn't tell him," Sam complained.
"And I won't tell him," Harry agreed. He wasn't above blackmail, though. "But I won't discourage his curiosity. Think he'll believe you when you say you were going to get a burger?"
Sam looked murderous, but Harry's ploy had worked. He followed Sam to the Impala, his untied shoelaces clicking softly off the pavement. He took the opportunity to secure them as Sam pulled out of the parking lot; the hunter seemed to deflate in relief as they put the hotel behind them. He didn't say anything right away, though, as if Dean could hear him within a mile radius.
Finally, when they pulled into the empty lot of the diner, he turned to Harry. "I agreed to bring you along," he began.
"Like you had a choice," Harry mumbled.
Sam heard him, but ignored it. "But once we get in there, you let me take the lead."
Harry looked at him, skeptically. Although Sam had admitted to him what he was doing - searching for Lilith in order to exact revenge - the only demon Harry had come into contact with since the night he'd saved Sam's life was Ruby. He knew that whatever Sam and Ruby did when they went off without Harry had something to do with demons. What else would Ruby be able to help him with when Harry couldn't? Well, besides, his more … carnal hungers - and Harry wasn't at all sure whether he should believe Sam's claim that he'd only slept with Ruby once.
But whatever else his friend was doing with the supposedly "good" demon, Harry had no idea. It was possible there were other demons involved; after all, it wasn't as though Sam had any other source of information on Lilith. But even with the power the knife gave him, Harry thought that was being a bit reckless. Not that he was one to talk. He could only hope that Sam's powers were enough to protect him. Or, at the very least, that he had Harry's sort of luck: in which everything would go wrong until it seemed he wouldn't make it out alive, at which point it would kick in with the most unrealistic and spectacular results.
"I'm serious, Harry," Sam insisted. "I can handle myself in there. I know what I'm doing, and I don't need you putting us both into danger because you don't understand."
Harry did his best not to take offense to that last comment. He suspected that there was at least some truth to what Sam was saying; he knew from experience that it was hard enough having to worry about someone's safety besides your own, let alone when you didn't know what that other person might try to do. But he also wasn't just anyone. Sam might've died if he hadn't thought to try a Patronus charm against the demons. In any case, he wasn't exactly helpless either.
Sam was waiting for him to agree before exiting the car, and Harry did so, albeit reluctantly. "Fine. But you'd better actually take the lead. I'm not going to let myself be disemboweled waiting around for you."
"I won't let you get disemboweled. I promise," Sam vowed. He took a deep breath and let it out. "All right, let's -"
He was cut off by a ringing. It turned out to be Dean, and Sam decided that he had to answer. Harry stayed quiet throughout the short conversation. When Sam flipped the phone closed, he looked perplexed.
Harry frowned. "So he actually bought that? About us getting a burger?" he asked.
"What? Oh, yeah, I think so. I mean, yes, but he sounded kind of … weird." Sam looked over at Harry. "I think he was hiding something from me."
"Now's really not the time to get pissed about something like that," Harry pointed out. "All things considered."
"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Anyways, he said he and Bobby were gonna go have a drink."
"So stop worrying," Harry ordered. "Well, about Dean, anyway. You can worry about what's in there." He pointed to the diner.
Sam didn't respond; instead, his countenance turned resolute and he climbed out of the Impala. Harry followed suit, walking quietly next to Sam as they approached and then entered the restaurant.
At first, it wasn't obvious what had happened. Everything seemed mostly as it should be, if the humans running it weren't all possessed by demons. In the darkness of the room, it took a moment for them to notice the body lying on the floor, sticking out from behind the counter. He and Sam stepped closer to examine it, noting then that the man's eyes had been burnt out just as Pamela's had been.
"What the hell is going on here?" Sam asked.
Harry didn't have a chance to answer before a pair of hands grabbed him from behind and threw him halfway across the room. It took him a moment to gather his bearings before he realized that Sam was sparring the demon, and another moment to stand up and cross to where the fighting was occurring. Harry wasn't particularly adept at physical combat, but he was able to get in a few moves and cause enough of a distraction for Sam to quickly subdue the demon.
It was then that they realized her eyes, too, were bloody and burnt.
"Your eyes," Sam said.
"I could still smell the souls from a mile away," she sneered.
"It was here," Sam continued. "You saw it."
"I saw it," she agreed.
"Well, what was it?" Sam prompted. Harry watched from the side, doing as Sam had instructed and letting him take the lead. The demon didn't appear to be very powerful, anyway.
Instead of answering right away, the demon let out a little sob. "It's the end. We're dead. We're all dead," she ranted.
"What did you see?" Sam asked more insistently.
"Go to hell," the demon replied.
"Funny. I was going to say the same thing to you."
Harry could only watch what happened next. Sam raised his arm in the air towards the demon, cupping his hand as though he was gripping a large object. He closed his eyes in concentration. Harry wanted to ask what was going on, what he was doing, but he soon got his answer. The demon made a coughing, choking sound and a bit of black smoke emanated from the mouth of the female body it had taken over. Harry knew what that black smoke was: the true form of a demon.
It was apparent that Sam was concentrating even harder. His hand seemed to be gripping tighter. Whatever he was doing was working, because the choking grew harder, and it wasn't long before a whole mess of black smoke poured out of the body. It pooled around in the air, clearly being forced to leave and not doing so by choice. Another long moment, and it had disappeared entirely, leaving behind only a broken corpse.
Sam turned to Harry. It looked like he was going to say something when a familiar voice spoke from the shadows.
"Getting pretty slick there, Sam. Better all the time."
Sam turned towards the emerging figure. "Ruby."
"You decided to bring Harry with you tonight," she observed patiently. "So he's in on your secret now. Does this mean you've decided to tell Dean as well?"
Sam didn't answer the question. "What the hell is going on around here?" he asked.
She looked like she was going to say something more about Dean, but didn't. "I wish I knew," she replied.
Sam looked over at Harry for a moment, then back at Ruby. "Do you think it could be some kind of demon? Harry doesn't think so, but Dean thought maybe …"
"No way," Ruby denied. "Sam, Harry's right on this one. Human souls don't just walk out of hell and back into their bodies easy. The sky bleeds, the ground quakes. It's cosmic. No demon can swing that. Not Lilith, not anybody."
"Then what can?" Sam asked.
"Nothing I've ever seen before," Ruby replied.
Harry refrained from pointing out that he'd said so all along and instead watched their exchange with interest. There was definitely some kind of tension there; now that he knew they'd had sex, it seemed so obvious.
"Well, then," Sam continued, "we'd better go."
Ruby looked surprised by this. "Sam, are you sure …?"
"Yes," he said firmly, and Harry felt like he was missing something. "We're not going to learn anything more tonight. And certainly not here. I'll see you later, Ruby."
"Ok," she agreed, though she seemed uncertain. "Watch out for yourselves."
She stayed where she was in the middle of the diner while Sam and Harry left, heading back out to the Impala. They got in, but Sam made no move to try and start the engine.
"Well?" he asked.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Well what?"
"Well, say whatever it is you have to say," Sam instructed. "Come on, I know what you just saw me do in there. You have to have something you want to say."
Harry shrugged. "Honestly? I'm still kind of processing it. I mean, that's your gift? Being able to exorcise demons with … what, your mind?"
"Yes," Sam replied tightly.
"I'm not going to lie to you, it's a little bit creepy," Harry admitted. He sighed; he didn't like talking about himself, not even to Sam. But his friend had just revealed something about himself to Harry, something huge, and it was only fair that Harry should reciprocate. "Listen, Sam, yeah, it freaks me out a little bit. But I know what it's like to freak other people out by what I can do. I know what it's like to have other people judge you based on something you never asked for, something you never wanted."
"Oh yeah?" Sam asked skeptically.
"So, in my world … there are some wizards, very rare wizards, who have this special … power. They can communicate with snakes," Harry explained. "And nearly all of those who've had the ability have been dark wizards. I mean, really dark. When I was twelve, I discovered that I had the ability, and basically everyone thought I was evil. They thought that I had attempted murder, just because I could speak to snakes. They were judging my ability apart from what they actually knew of me, which was that I would never intentionally hurt someone else."
"Wait a second." Sam held up a hand. "You can talk to snakes?"
"What's it to you?" Harry replied. "To answer your question though, no, I can't. Not anymore."
"Not anymore? How do you lose an ability like that?"
"A story for another time," Harry replied, knowing that there was no way he could explain to Sam that he'd had a piece of Voldemort's soul inside him without revealing his entire life story. And, besides the fact that he wasn't ready to do that just yet, he didn't think that sitting in the Impala in the middle of the night was the best setting for something that would take so long to hash out.
"Another time that'll be sooner rather than later, right?" Sam requested. "But I get what you're trying to say. You understand, and so you're trying not to make any quick judgments."
"Exactly," Harry agreed.
Sam shut his eyes for a moment, then opened them. "Thank you, Harry," he said sincerely.
Harry simply nodded in response, fatigue starting to hit him again, and he was grateful when Sam finally pulled the keys out of his pocket and started the car. Leaning back against the seat, he let his mind wander on this newest revelation as Sam guided the Impala back to the hotel, finally understanding why it was that Sam didn't want to reveal this to his brother, but also thinking that he should still do it, anyway. If Dean couldn't try to understand, then perhaps he wasn't as good a brother as Sam kept insisting he was.