Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I don't like to assume things, not just because it makes an ass out of you and me, but because when I do generally bad things happen and I end up lying on my side with little bits of concrete molding to my face. Therefore, as happy as I was to see Dean, I knew that he was probably in a bad place and I assumed that he didn't want to see lil' 'ol me.

So when I was tidying up the office and by tidying I mean making some semblance of order out of chaos, an order that only I have any hope of figuring out, I was literally surprised to hear a knock on my office door.

Maybe not that surprised…

Spooked… maybe…

Or startled…

At least I don't shove guests into walls.

When I opened it I was met with the smiling faces of the Winchester brothers. Scratch that, the smiling face of Dean Winchester, and the slightly confused face of the younger one. I knew what he was looking at too, my sign, the one that trumpeted that Harry Dresden, was in fact, a wizard. It was like he never worked with a wizard before… imagine that.

"Hey Dean, come on in," I said, stepping to the side so the two could get through into my office/work space/love nest (just kidding about the last part.) "I was just wondering if I had scared you off last night, I probably should have called but you know me and phones." I chuckled and motioned for them to sit on the couch.

The younger one sat heavily in the padded couch and proceeded with his examination of my professional dwelling. I didn't mind, people did that a lot, because it's not everyday one gets to be in a wizard's workspace.

Dean jumped slightly when he caught my glance at his brother, "Oh, umm… I don't think you two have met, Harry, this is my brother Sammy."

I shook the boy's hand while he rolled his eyes at Dean. Looking back at me, he corrected, "My name is Sam."

Well that was odd, as I released Sam's hand I could feel the tingle of residual power on my own hand. Sam must have some power stored away within himself, and the Winchester family suddenly became much, much more interesting.

"Harry Dresden," I replied as cordially as I could, returning to the formality of introductions.

"I couldn't tell by the door," Sam replied sarcastically. "Are you really a…?"

Dean this time interjected before Sam could continue, "Sammy, don't worry about it, he's a good guy. Harry worked with Dad and me when you were at Stanford." Dean was covering for me… or covering himself. He wanted to control the situation, which must have been why I couldn't get a word in edgewise. The kid just wanted to be sure that Sam would be okay, and not flip out about the whole wizard deal.

Sam didn't seem entirely satisfied with that response, hell, I wouldn't have been either, especially in this line of business, but he shut his mouth to the matter and began flipping through the various pamphlets I had littered on my small wooden coffee table.

"Dude! So how have you been Dresden? Keeping busy with the hoodoo hijinks?"

"Busy is an understatement," I commented, stuffing my hands into my duster's pockets. "So what are you guys here for? Got a case that you thought I couldn't handle myself?"

"We might have," Sam said before Dean had the chance. "Murders, two of them. They both were violent messy deals that didn't match a regular pattern, missing organs and the deal. So we thought that we would double check that they weren't the result of Daevas like a year ago."

I nodded, the pair of murders was in the news, and I recalled how I was practically drooling over them for need of cash. In fact, I could remember simply sitting by my phone waiting for a call from Murphy saying she would need my expertise little over 16 hours ago.

"Jeez," Dean exhaled, "Harry… just so much as happened since we've last talked. It'll take way too long to explain it."

I waved my hand, "No need, I understand."

"Dude, you don't know the half of it."

"I could say the same thing to you," I laughed. I casually walked over to my small icebox that I recently added to my office for those smoldering Chicago summer days and pulled out two beers (I'm my own boss, I say I'm allowed to drink on the job), tossing one to Dean and keeping the other for myself. It was after twelve o'clock, and besides, with a potential for a Daeva job it meant that we wouldn't be heading out for another six hours at least.

I caught Dean throw a grin at his brother and Sam roll his eyes back. Kid must be at least old enough to drink then, so, sighing, I reached back to the icebox and got one for Sam too. I would need to go grocery shopping sometime in the near future then, more days and nights without a job caused a man to need alcohol, and badly. Sam shot a triumphant smile at Dean and twisted the bottle cap off with the bottom hem of his shirt.

"So, Dean never mentioned you before," he said casually between sips.

Okay, permit me some observations on my part, (not judgments, don't get me wrong, mere observations. Judgments, once again, is a job for the Big Guy Upstairs) but Sam Winchester appeared to be a man after my own heart. Dean was more of a rough and rowdy person, all the while keeping to himself especially in the whole emotions department, and he was good at it, just like his father. But Sam was a whole other roller coaster, and practically oozed emotional instability. I suppose he did his best to keep himself seeming "normal" to regular civilians (no doubt he was the most level-headed of the Winchester clan), however, I connected with him – the loss was there, the pain and confusion were traced in faint lines on his face.

The few glances I had at his eyes seemed similar to when I would look myself in a mirror. I try to do the right thing, but sometimes I screw up, sometimes people die or get hurt and it's my fault. Every single person has the possibility to give into the darkness and chaos that lurks around corners – I have a good chance of that, if I weren't so stubborn, and I could easily surrender to the call of Black magic (yes, Black, with a capital B) and fall from grace. Sam could too, as I perceived through my own intuition. He was on the edge of that, and walked a fine line between literal good and evil.

Frankly, I was terrified of what I might see if I looked him in the eyes and gazed at his soul.

Because I knew deep in my own mind that I'd be looking at myself along with it.

See the kind of company I keep? God, I love this job.

Snapping out of my reverie, I placed my own beer bottle down on the coffee table and took the seat opposite of the Winchesters. I paused, not knowing where to start my introduction beyond, "Hi, my name is Harry! I'm a Wizard!" Cue cheesy music here, enter the Harry Potter jokes now, please, thank you.

"Have you ever dealt with magic before? Real magic? And thought about where it comes from?" The question was simple enough, and it was in fact addressed to both of the younger men. I hadn't use any of the flash-bang type magic with the Winchesters the last time they were here, only a simple tracking spell which was hardly "exciting" in the normal sense.

"We've encountered a lot of things," Sam replied dolefully, "Nothing I would hardly qualify as magic in the proper use of the word. Witches a few times, but they were doing cookbook spells."

"This is much easier to explain to you guys than others, you have no idea," I said, leaning back into the cushion, relaxing my legs from being crossed over one another. Once again, I stopped and went over the explanation in my head - how I could best describe it without sounding completely bonkers. "You guys familiar with the Force?" I asked with a mischievous glint in my eye.

Dean lit up, "Why yes Obi Wan. Alright, you get to be Kenobi, Sammy wants to be Luke, something about the long shaggy hair, being a pansy, the whole deal, and I get to be Han Solo."

"More like Chewy…" Sam muttered under his breath.

Ignoring the rest of the statement by Dean, in which he prattled about finding a Lea, I turned my attention to the younger brother. "Well, okay, so magic sort of permeates through life itself, it draws off feelings and emotions, and there are some people and beings that… umm… for lack of a better word, access and manipulate them."

Sam looked like he was rolling over what I had said in his brain. I noticed a slight shift in his countenance, where he went from healthy skepticism to a scholarly expression. Kid was smart then, I'd give him that.

Before I could continue, the phone to the right of my desk rang loudly, and I had sneaking suspension that it was Lieutenant Murphy. I lifted the receiver to my ear and cheerfully said, "Hello there! Harry Dresden's office, how may I help you today?"

"Cut the crap cute act Dresden," came the curt voice of Karrin Murphy.

"Oh sweetey, I love it when you talk to me like that," I replied, glancing mischievously at the two Winchester boy's sitting opposite of me. So maybe I like to antagonize her sometimes, she was cuter when she was angry. It was like our thing, she would be short (yes, both meanings of the word) and I would be my gentlemanly, chivalrous self. She hated it, but I could tell that she appreciated the acts as a sign of my friendship for her, at least, that's what I told myself.

"I need your take on a case Harry. I'm on my way to pick you up, and I'll be at your place in ten minutes."

"Charming. But give me twenty, I'm in the office but I'll need to pick up something from my apartment."

"We had a third body pop up last night, same mess," she said, her voice softening. "I need to catch this guy Dresden, any information you could find would be a big help."

"Alright," I replied, glancing at the Winchester brothers sitting on my office couch finishing up their drinks. Dean gave a grin and a small wave and Sam slapped his brother's hand down to stop him from distracting me.

"Good, see you in a bit." She hung up without so much as a "Thank you Harry, you're a doll."

I placed the phone back and went back to my seat. "Come on, we'll need to head over to my place. You two can follow me over to the apartment." I led them down the five flights of stairs to our respective vehicles. I'm not jealous of their car…

-B-R-E-A-K-

"Where was I?" I asked when I led them to the dark entrance of my basement apartment.

"Who was that on the phone earlier?" Dean questioned, turning to a look of complete seriousness.

I waved it off, "Murphy, there was a third body found this morning I guess, wants me to take a look at it." He gave me an odd look, and I elaborated, "I consult for the police every now and then, pays the bills."

Sam gave Dean a queasy look for a second but Dean kept his confidant face up. Sighing, Sam went back to the previous conversation, "And you can do that? The whole, manipulating energies and emotions like that?"

I nodded, "I'm not the only one, there are whole slues of people who can do that as well, and I'm not exactly the poster child of magic-users."

He laughed, "Black sheep in the flock?"

"Black sheep among wolves," I said dangerously. The lights around my house flickered and seemed to grow dim and Sam visibly noticed. He seemed to shift uncomfortably in his seat looking around. I breathed in slowly and let it out in a long silent sigh, the lights returned to normal.

"What can you guys tell me about your case so far? If you don't mind sharing? Hell, if it's the same case Murphy has me work I might be able to float you guys some cash under the table when all is said and done."

Dean laughed, "Nah, you need the cash. Besides, just bring Sammy here to that awesome pub you took me to last time and we'll call it even."

Sam looked startled at his brother, "You remember going out to dinner? What kind of case was this that needed the collective intelligence of a wizard and Dad and you?"

"Demon," both Dean and I said at the same time.

Sam massaged his wrist, "Bad one?" The voice was small, almost childlike. I imagined that as badass as the Winchesters were they still must have not run up against demons all too often – and the fewer and farther between cases with demons were the better.

"Not the worst, but screwed up Harry pretty good," Dean replied. It was true, I've encountered some pretty nasty demons in my past, and the one we dealt with was not your garden-variety hellhound - smarter and bigger and uglier than the average bear. When we confronted it head on it had to gone for me first (the staff and pentacle gave me away, stupid Harry, stupid,) but John and Dean really stepped it up for civilians and we three managed to banish the thing "back from whence it came" in time.

After we nursed our wounds, mine being particularly bad, including a torn up shoulder and minor burn injuries, I had in fact taken Dean out for dinner. I was surprised he remembered.

"I was fine," I commented, "nothing a little Tylenol and TLC couldn't fix. So, what about the case this time around? Anything in particular that perked your interest?"

"Like we said before," Dean started, "Someone or something was leaving an M.O. like the Daevas… the whole brutal attacks, taking organs. Now, when we were here in Chicago last time, Sammy, Dad, and I didn't actually kill the Daevas."

"We showed them the light," Sam said jokingly.

I started thinking about it, what I was familiar with Daevas suggested that they didn't last long after summoning, even if they were free to roam about, more likely than not they would've slowly but surely transferred back to the Nevernever. "But that doesn't make sense," I said, slowing my speech as if mucking through the idea would make it make more sense, "unless someone summoned a new batch, and that's ridiculously improbable that a nut job would summon the same type of demon in the same area as before. Especially with demons so old, they must really know their stuff."

"The first time we were here a pretty little psycho bitch from hell summoned them as a trap," Dean mused, "Blonde too… named Meg. Heh, Sam always attracts the crazy types."

Sam glared at Dean before I said, "Could be related to her then, was she a witch? Or what?"

"Possessed," Dean answered.

Ouch, I thought, that complicated things. Knowing the Winchester's past it also meant that this might be bigger than a couple of random homicides. "So if it is Daevas, as you suspect, it could be related to what happened last time it. It might possibly be a trap again then? This time to net one of you guys?"

"That's what we figured sort of, but we couldn't have anymore people getting hurt," Sam continued sincerely.

"And we just got here, so we don't have much information beyond that, damned if I know although. This is just speculation," Dean finished.

I stood up, taking the empty bottles of beer they still had carried into the apartment to the trash. I wiped my hands off and said, "I suppose I'll tell you anything else I find when I visit the crime scene with Murphy, maybe I can convince her that you two are up and coming investigators who I'm helping out."

"Yeah, about that…" Dean said. This couldn't be good, nothing starting with "yeah, about that" in that sort of tone never brought good news.

I arched an eyebrow at him, "You two aren't wanted by the police, are you?"

"That depends on your definition of "wanted by the police.""

Nope, this wasn't going to be good.

I shifted my weight onto one leg and crossed my arms, "Umm… are you guys in "bring in for questioning" trouble or "arrest on sight" trouble?"

Sam sat up from the back of the couch but Dean replied first, "Once again, depends on who you're talking about." Sam shot him a glare, but Dean continued, "Sammy here might get off with questioning, I, on the other hand… I'm kind of wanted dead or alive by the FBI."

"Dean…" I rumbled, placing my hands over my face, God, this was embarrassing. I knew he was trouble, but I didn't know he was a reckless illegal fugitive nonetheless.

The younger boy stood up, holding his hand out in defense of his brother, "Dean didn't do anything wrong, and we had some shape shifter problems. A while ago it took Dean's form and killed a whole bunch of girls. We killed it, but it died with Dean's form therefore they thought Dean Winchester was dead. Then we got caught later on, and they figured out Dean wasn't dead and there was this bank robbery and…"

"You robbed a bank?!" I burst out.

"No," Sam said sharply, "It was another shifter."

"Okay, okay, I believe that," I replied, cooling down my initial shock over the news that my friend was a fugitive. That put a spoke in my plans then, I had to figure out a way that I could still work with Murphy without alerting her to the two fugitives in my home and office.

Damnit… Murphy. Just as I thought that I heard a knock on the door, the usual anxious knock Murphy used when she was hot on a case. "Just a minute!" I called. Normally I'd feel bad about leaving Murphy outside, typically I'd let her in while I readied my supplies, but this time I couldn't risk the Winchester brothers.

"Okay kids," I said softly, "You two will play nice in the lab while I'm out alright?" It was patronizing, but nonetheless urgent. The two got up and followed me to the large steel door of my lab and ushered them inside. "Don't touch anything," I warned, "And don't let Bob annoy you."

"Dresden! Open the door!" Murphy yelled. She was going to be pissed, but I just made sure that the brothers were out of sight when I grabbed my staff and opened the door. "Harry, what the hell were you doing?" she huffed. I lifted the staff slightly and she rolled her eyes at me, "Come on, the corpse is getting cold and so is my patience."

"One second," I breathed, I checked the wards I had constructed surrounding my house just for double measure and followed the short Lieutenant to her car. "What are the details?" I asked.

"Homicide, like the last two, not sure yet what this one is missing."

"What were the others missing?"

"The first one lost her heart, followed up by the guy without a liver."

"Dirty job then."

I opened her car door for her and the blonde threw up her hands in frustration, "I just can't wrap my head around it Harry. Each case is so drastically different, except the fact that they all died vicious deaths and they're missing parts of themselves. Maybe I just think you'll see something we can't."

"That's what you pay me for," I replied, getting into the passenger side of the police-issue sports vehicle. "But we also all like a little company now and again," I concluded, thinking of the Winchesters in my lab.