A/N: Okay, this is the part where I say something like "Don't except another update so soon!", but honestly... I won't even bother. This story is just flowing out of my mind so easily and I'm having so much fun writing it. The next update will come when it comes, I'm just going to stop trying to predict it.

Now then: about the life-debt. Some people appeared to have gotten the wrong idea. John hasn't agreed to do anything yet. He made the debt after making promises, so they don't apply. I hope that clears up any confusion.

Ahh... I don't have much to say about this chapter. It was a blast to write and I hope you have a blast reading it. Don't forget to leave a review telling me what you think afterward! I read every one and respond whenever I can.

o0o

Dean and Sam were once more on the road, the sound of the car speakers blaring as they trailed behind their father's truck. After escaping from the barn with their lives intact, they each silently got into their respective vehicles and began driving back toward the motel where they were staying.

With a click, Dean cut off the radio and Sam turned to him curiously. Dean's eyes were on the road, but his face was resigned.

"Dean?" Sam frowned uncertainty.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean sighed. "You were right, so let me have it."

Sam knew exactly what Dean was talking about. He had tried to talk them out of going through with the hunt, but Dean had been surprisingly stubborn and convinced him to go along with it. Thankfully, they all managed to get out alive, but they lost the Colt and their father had nearly sold his soul for their freedom. Instead of flinging around useless "I told you so"s that would only serve to make Dean feel worse about himself, Sam sighed and shook his head.

"I wasn't all right—that blonde-haired kid in the forest? That was him, wasn't it?"

Dean winced and rubbed his eyes tiredly with one hand. "You saw that, huh? Yeah, that was him."

Sam grinned and couldn't help but tease, "I can't believe you fell for that innocent victim crap, I thought you were better than that."

"Ha-ha, very funny, might as well get it out of your system now."

Sam smiled and simply turned to look back out the window. "Dad'll give you enough chewing out for the both of us." Dean groaned, having forgotten momentarily about the verbal lashing awaiting him from their father. "So, what was he?" Sam asked, continuing the conversation. "He wasn't a demon, so… shape shifter?"

"No, he used my knife to cut himself—that son of a bitch!" Dean snarled suddenly and pounded the steering wheel in anger.

Sam jerked and looked at him in panic, thinking something happened. "What? What is it?"

"That little bastard still has my knife!" Dean growled, causing Sam to relax and breathe a sigh of relief.

"Is that all? Geez, you nearly gave me a heart attack."

"That was my favorite knife," Dean muttered petulantly.

Sam rolled his eyes and ignored him pointedly. "So if he's not a demon or a shape shifter, I came up with a theory. I had a vision about him, right?" Dean frowned in displeasure at the mention of Sam's visions but nodded to show that he was listening. "And my visions are always connected to the demon, so…"

"You think he's like you? One of those psychic fre—kids."

"Yes, Dean," Sam bit out angrily. "I think he's a psychic freak like me."

"Sammy, that's not what I meant," Dean sighed tiredly, simply not having the energy to argue.

"…I know," Sam breathed, deflating. "But it would explain why I had a vision about him and his powers."

"I don't think so," Dean denied with a shake of his head.

"Why not?"

"Because he's a witch—or wizard. Whatever."

"What?" Sam gaped. Then, his eyes began to widen in understanding. "That would explain his eyes in my vision! If he borrowed power from the demon he made a deal with—"

"He said he was born with magic," Dean interrupted, ruining yet another of Sam's theories. "Something about there even being a freaky occult school for people born with magic."

"Born with magic?" Sam repeated in disbelief. "No one is born with magic."

"Yeah, well, stranger things have happened." Dean gave Sam a look out of the corner of his eye, and Sam realized that Dean meant his own psychic abilities. He grimaced, but conceded that Dean had a point.

Deciding to change the subject, Sam asked, "He say anything else?"

"Yeah," Dean frowned. "Something about being the King of Die…? King of Day? King of something. Basically said he's God's evil brother." Dean snorted and shook his head, clearly unbelieving.

"W-What?" Sam sputtered, unable to believe it as well. "God's evil brother? What's that even supposed to mean?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know... don't think he said. Kid's got serious delusions of grandeur."

Sam nodded, but internally his mind was racing. Was what the boy spoke of possible? Could he really be a so called 'King'? He would have to research it later.

o0o

After making sure the hunters wouldn't be coming back, Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He had dodged a bullet there, and he knew it. Had Daddy Hunter decided he would try to take his son back by force or if it turned out he had a horde of hunter reinforcements, Harry would have been forced to use extreme measures.

Thankfully, he hadn't needed to do more than threaten them. He hadn't wanted to brandish his power so openly, but they left him no choice.

Now there was the issue of his potential soul mate… or rather, soul mates. He had been able to read Sam's soul just as clearly as he had been able to read Dean's, and the emotions it inspired in him were similar to those he felt from Dean.

When he came to America, he certainly hadn't expected for any of this.

As it stood now, there was still a chance for Harry to finally settle things peacefully and maybe further his own agenda along the way. He made Daddy Hunter agree to accept a dept, but he still had no idea what to ask for.

That was why after he made sure the vampires would be safe and protected, he grabbed his secretary and once more led him to the same secluded spot that was quickly becoming their meeting place.

"You did well back there," Alouran complimented, smiling.

Harry nodded distractedly, his thoughts racing at one-thousand miles a minute. He looked up at his secretary seriously and whispered quietly, "I think I have two soul mates."

Alouran jerked as if struck and simply stared. "T-Two? Harry, please, that's… that's unheard of…"

"Just unheard of? Or impossible?"

"W-well," Alouran began hesitantly. "Theoretically, it's possible… but the odds are like, a trillion to one. And for you to meet both of them…? Yeah... It's like winning the lottery every day for the rest of your life—it requires insane odds."

Harry groaned and buried his face in his hands. "That sounds like my luck alright, only instead of winning the lottery it would be getting struck by lightning."

Alouran tried to laugh, but he broke off into quiet coughs when Harry didn't join him. "Harry, if you want, you can just ignore them. You don't have to do anything about them—you can live your life without them."

"I know," Harry whispered. "But a little part of me… now that it's found them, it doesn't want to let them go."

His best friend and secretary placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and Harry relaxed into it gratefully. Usually he was the one always doing the comforting—he was the King of Dae, after all. It wouldn't do to show weakness in front of anyone, less they decide to question him. But with Alouran, he felt he didn't have to always wear the mask of the King. It felt nice to have someone he could trust, who he could let down his guard around and be completely himself.

Changing the subject, Alouran asked, "So, what are you going to ask that hunter to do to repay his debt?"

Harry allowed the change with a small smile. "I don't know… Al, honestly, I still have no idea how I can make the situation in America better. Until I find out what's blocking my powers—hell, even then… without something in place to protect the Dark creatures, things will just deteriorate after I leave."

"It's the hunters," Alouran nodded, a speculative hand on his chin. "A step in the right direction would be a Dark creature protection act, or anything to stop the hunters from hunting."

"How?" Harry growled in frustration. "There's no magical community here, which means there's no safe place for the creatures of Dark to live. The hunters have effectively turned America into a muggle-only country. If we're going to make things right, we'll have to instill some type of order."

"Order?" Alouran questioned curiously.

"Yes… like, create a government of our own in America…"

Alouran's skepticism was easily spotted on his face. "But, Harry, how would that work? Normal humans can't know about the wizarding world or Dark creatures, and hunters aren't likely to follow the laws of a government they hate."

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You're right… It all seems to come back to the hunters. Until we can find a solution for them, we can't even take a single step forward."

"Most of them are fueled by revenge or just blind hate," Alouran explained, shaking his head. "It won't be easy to get them to stop. In fact, it'll be pretty much impossible!"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Al," Harry remarked dryly. "Maybe I can just relocate all of the dark creatures to somewhere new? An uninhabited island, perhaps?"

"That could work, "Alouran allowed hesitantly, "but that's too big of a job for anyone to do. Besides, most of them would be unable to find food… say for instance, a vampire?"

Harry once more heaved a giant breath of frustration. "Being a god is hard work."

Alouran chuckled. "Of course it is! But, you know… if all else fails… we could—"

"No," Harry denied fiercely. "I considered it once, but that would make me no different than the hunters—killing to simple rid the world of what we think of as evil. It also reminds me of dear old Tom, may he burn in hell, and how he saw muggles and muggle-born. No, we'll try to settle this with as little bloodshed as possible."

"Okay, okay," Alouran said, backing down immediately. There was several beats of silence before a wicked smile on Al's face. "Hey, I know what you can ask that old hunter for…"

Harry leaned forward, curious. "What?"

o0o

Just as Sam predicted, as soon as they returned their hotel room, their father instantly went on a tirade, chewing Dean out thoroughly and leaving nothing behind but bones. Dean bore the verbal lashing stoically, face blank and eyes staring straight ahead.

As soon as he was finished screaming, the man surprised them both by suddenly leaning forward and embracing his eldest son in a hug.

"D-Dad?" Dean called hesitantly, not sure if he should return the hug and flashing a Sam a confused look over the man' shoulder. Sam just shrugged back and stilled as their father turned to him.

"Sammy," their father whispered, moving as if to embrace him as well but changing his mind at the last second. "I'm sorry."

Sam knew exactly what he was apologizing for: for not truly believing him when he repeatedly tried to warn him and for striking him across the cheek in a moment of anger. Sam merely nodded, accepting the apology but not quite ready to mend the numerous fences between them.

The man smiled weakly before sitting heavily on the bed and burying his face in his hands. Once more, Dean and Sam exchanged glances, unsure of what they should say or do.

"Dad?" Dean sat on the bed next to their father and clapped him weakly on the back. "I-I'm sorry as well. Sammy tried to warn me, but I—"

"Dean," Sam interrupted, shaking his head. "It's okay. Really."

Dean sighed. "Dad, about the… the deal you made. What are you… what are you going to do?"

If possible, their father seemed to sag even more wearily, the sight of it simply not computing in Sam's brain. Their father was strong and fearless; the man who appeared too old and tired in front of them… it was like a different person entirely.

"I have to leave you boys."

Sam felt a jolt race through him and took a step nearer. "But we just found you! You can't leave yet!"

"I have to," the man sighed, finally looking up. Sam saw the regret and sadness in his father's eyes and felt all of his indignation fleeing him. "I accepted his deal for you boy's safety, and if I don't do it… I die. What if…" He paused and drew in a deep breath, eyes closed. "What if he asked me to kill you?"

Sam's eyes widened in horror, the look mirrored on his brother's face as well. "He-He wouldn't do that," Dean denied weakly, although he was noticeably unsure. Sam swallowed thickly, realizing for the first time just how much control the black-haired boy had over their family.

"We'll kill him," Dean suddenly snarled, jaw quivering in anger. "If he's dead, his little deal—"

"Dean!" their father snapped, turning to him with a glare. "Don't you dare! If you go after that boy and he kills you…" He sighed and shook his head, unable to even bear the thought. "No… I'll go into hiding. If he can't find me, he can't order me to do anything."

"Then we'll go with you," Sam offered.

"No," he denied firmly. "I listened to you boys at first, and now look at us. The vampires are still alive, we lost the colt, and I've sold my freedom to a monster! No, Sam… you boys just… just protect yourselves, okay?"

"Dad," Sam whispered, a sudden guilt creeping into his heart. If he hadn't pushed so strongly for his dad to finally see them—to accept them as his fellow hunters… then maybe none of this would had happened.

Dean once more lowered his head. "This is all my fault…"

"It's not anyone's fault," their father sighed. He stood tiredly and gave them both small smiles. "Now go to bed."

"You're leaving?" Sam questioned weakly. "Now?"

Their father didn't reply, but that was answer enough. Sam opened his mouth to try to convince his father to once more let them come with him when there was a knock at the door. The words died in his throat and all three Winchesters turned toward the sound.

It was after ten o'clock PM, so no one should be visiting their room at that late an hour. Dean and their father both grabbed rifles loaded with rock salt and Sam walked cautiously toward the door. At their slow nods of confirmation, he opened the door a peak, his eyes widening at who he saw on the other side.

"Hello," the green-eyed boy smiled, waving lightly.

Sam opened the door all the way, letting the rest of his family see their new visitor.

"You," their father whispered in resignation while Dean snarled, rifle raised and pointed at Harry despite the fact that it couldn't kill—only hurt like a bitch.

The boy raised a brow at the sight of Dean aiming a loaded rifle at him, but seemed mostly unperturbed.

"Hello, Sam," the boy whispered quietly, staring up at him through his lashes before stepping into the room. Sam moved out of the way silently and watched as the boy stopped in the middle of the room. He inclined his head at Dean who only sneered back and then his gaze landed on their father.

"I've come to collect your debt—before you decide to skip town or some such."

Sam barely held in a snort and Dean grimaced in displeasure. Their father nodded once and sat down once again on the bed opposite Dean.

"Alright," he said in acceptance, voice tight and head bowed. "What do you want from me?"

The boy gave a sudden grin.

o0o

After hearing Alouran's plan, Harry had to admit… it was good. It was Slytherin and very perverse in its final goals, but despite that, Harry liked it. It appealed to both his sense of diplomacy and the dark humor he found himself developing courtesy of Alouran.

It was dependant on certain variables coming into play, but they had thought it through and decided that there was a good chance of it succeeding.

That was how Harry found himself outside the hotel room of the man who owed him a life debt. Before they left, he placed tracking charms on all of them. It wouldn't do if they suddenly decided to skip town, so he wanted to get to them before they had such a chance.

When Sam opened the door, Harry greeted him pleasantly and stepped inside the room. Up close, Sam was a freaking giant, but a cute giant. Dean was aiming a rifle at him, but still he gave the hunter an acknowledging nod, only to get a sneer back in return. Ignoring Dean's hostility, Harry turned to the father and told him he came to collect his debt.

When the man asked what he wanted, Harry couldn't help but grin devilishly. "Nothing extreme, I think," Harry admitted, admiring their room curiously.

Dean snarled and rattled his rifle pointedly. "Well? Spit it out!"

Harry rolled his eyes but refrained from commenting on Dean's rudeness. "What's the hurry? Can't we simply chat and get to know one another, first?"

He received three blank stares for his suggestion.

"Here, Dean," Harry said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a familiar silver knife. "You left without asking for it back."

Dean stared at the offered knife as if it were a trick before standing slowly and taking it. His eyes softened a little in thanks, but the hostility and distrust were still evident.

"You're welcome," Harry huffed, causing Sam to crack a small smile. "Since it seems like I'm the only one who'll be doing any talking, I'll get right to the point." Harry turned to Daddy Hunter and stared him in the eye. "What I want is simple. For the next two hours, I want you to tell me only the truth."

All three of the hunters stared at him in shock, unwilling to believe that was all he wanted.

"Are you serious?" Sam asked finally, still gaping a little dumbly. Dean had forgotten all about his knife and was merely giving Harry a considering look. Daddy Hunter's eyes were narrowed, wondering what angle Harry was trying to work by asking him to tell the truth.

"Yes," Harry said, smiling when they all seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. Harry turned back to their father. "So, what do you say?"

"Alright," the man sighed, swallowing lightly.

"Don't forget," Harry reminded gravely, "if you try to lie to me, the magic of the promise you made will turn against you."

The man nodded his acceptance and Harry smiled, coming to sit beside Dean who scowled and stood from the bed. Harry rolled his eyes but refrained from commenting. Turning back to Daddy Hunter, Harry asked his first question. "So, what is your name?"

"John Winchester," the man answered easily.

Harry "ahh'd" and nodded, finally having a name for the man. Thinking of him as Daddy Hunter was growing tiresome. "Alright then, John. Are Dean and Sam your sons?"

"Yes."

Harry again nodded, looking at both Sam and Dean who were watching him closely. He smiled at them, but Sam was the only one who even tried to return it.

"What about other family? A wife?" Harry asked curiously.

"I have other family," John hedged evasively, "and my wife is dead."

Harry knew there was something left unsaid, but decided not to question it. He had found what he was looking for—possible motivation. "Was your wife murdered?"

Dean and Sam stiffened immediately, Dean growling in anger while Sam frowned in sadness. Their reactions were answer enough, but he still needed to have it confirmed by John.

"…Yes," the old hunter said finally, eyes closed in pain.

"My condolences," Harry offered sincerely, ignoring when three pair of shocked eyes zeroed in on him. "Is that why you became a hunter?" Harry continued quietly. "In revenge for your wife?"

Once more John answered affirmative.

So far, it was exactly as Alouran had predicted. Now was the moment of truth… the deciding factor that determined if he would wash his hands of the Winchester family or allow himself to be swept up into their lives.

"What was it that killed your wife, John?"

"…A demon."

When Harry broke out into a smile, Dean's rifle was once more pointed directly at his head. "What are you smiling at?"

"Nothing," Harry sighed, rolling his eyes. "Really, Dean, you need to work on your trust issues… but, then again, I'm sure you learned that from your father. Am I right, John?"

The man sighed and closed his eyes, clearly reluctant. "…Yes."

Harry resisted the urge to giggle, if only so Dean wouldn't do something he would regret—like firing the rifle at his face. Schooling his expression so that didn't show any of the amusement he felt, he once more turned to John.

"So you want revenge on this demon, correct? If it's why you started hunting, surely you want to kill it?"

John eyed him shrewdly, losing patience in the questioning but having no choice but to answer. "Yes. I still want to kill it."

Harry nodded, having already pieced the story together. "And that's why you wanted the Colt. So you could kill this demon. Am I right, John?"

"…Yes."

Harry hummed, eyes closed in thought. John's quest was noble, but he should have become a demon hunter instead of an all around hunter. Then Harry would have no reservations in giving him a hand, no strings attached. As it was now, he would first have to lay some groundwork…

"What would you say if I were to give you the gun?" There were several silent intakes of breaths and Harry grinned, relieved when this time Dean didn't immediately point a rifle at his face.

"Thank you?" John offered weakly and Harry finally gave in to his urge to chuckle.

"I'll give you guys the gun," Harry confirmed, nodding when they all continued to stare at him in shock. "But there will be conditions. We trade; the gun for something I want. But I have to know I can trust you. Will you try to double cross me again, John?"

John took in a shaky breath. "N-No… I won't."

Harry smiled thinly. "Will you obey my demands should you agree to them, and accept the consequences should you not?"

The old hunter grimaced, but if he wanted the Colt, they would have to play by Harry's rules. "I will…"

"Good," Harry said, allowing himself to sit more comfortably on the bed. "Now, if you want the gun, you'll have to accept these conditions. First, you can only use the gun on demons." Harry eyed them all seriously, but they seemed to agree—so far. "My next condition is that you all have to stop hunting my children for an entire year, which means no killing vampires, werewolves, or anything of that nature."

The brothers looked ready to protest, but a single nod from their father stopped them in their tracks. "Alright. I accept."

"Don't be so hasty," Harry rebuked gently. "There's still one condition left: if you ever run across any of what I just described, you'll contact me immediately. You are to do nothing else."

"No!" Dean snarled angrily, and even Sam appeared reluctant. But John was the one who ultimately decided if it happened or not.

"Okay," the man sighed, causing Dean to immediately begin listing the reasons why it was a bad idea. "Enough!" John snarled and Dean's mouth closed with a snap. "We need that gun to kill the demon! It's the only way we'll ever be able to get our revenge. And if that means… accepting these conditions then… I'm gonna take it."

"Dad," Sam whispered weakly.

Harry was nodding, satisfied with how things were proceeding. "You've given your word, John." Harry didn't need to add more, because it was understood silently. If John went back on his word, he would be killed.

Taking the Colt from a pocket of his blazer, Harry held it in his hand for them all to see. "It's the real deal," he said, handing it to the man who took it and cradled lightly. "It's real, isn't it John?"

The man paused, as if considering, before he nodded his head. "Yes… this is the real Colt." Dean still looked unconvinced, but there was not much they could do until they ran across a demon. John checked the barrels and froze.

"There aren't any bullets…"

Harry grinned cheekily, and slowly, the Winchesters realized they'd been bamboozled.

"You son of a bitch!" Dean snarled, and Harry once more found himself with a rifle aimed at his head. Sam was quiet but appeared to condone Dean's actions, while John was merely starring at Harry through narrowed eyes.

"You want something else for the bullets," the man ventured.

"Correct," Harry said, tilting his head. Dean swore violently but Harry once more chose to tune him out—something he found himself growing rather adept at. He pulled a blue felt pouch from his pocket and jingled it, the sound of metal striking metal hitting all their ears.

"What do you want for them," John asked, eyes blazing in fury but his voice admirably calm.

For once, Harry appeared uncertain and mumbled lowly into his hand.

"What?" John frowned.

Blushing, Harry ducked his head and looked at them through his fringe. "I said, I want a kiss."

John's blank mask finally cracked. His eyes widened in horror and his lower lip trembled. Sam and Dean reacted no better, looks of shock and disgust on their faces. "I'm sorry," John began, holding up his hands, "but I don't swing that way."

Harry realized what they thought and his face quickly turned sour. He shook his head vehemently, equally as disturbed as everyone else. "Uhg, sick! No, not from you!"

Sam sighed in relief but immediately frowned in confusion. "Wait… then from who?"

Coughing, Harry once more flushed and simply stared at Sam pointedly. Slowly, John and Dean turned their gazes toward the youngest hunter, their eyes growing wide in realization. Sam pointed a finger at himself and questioned meekly, "Me?"

Harry merely nodded, unable to trust his voice.

"Sammy…" John frowned, clearly not wishing to involve his sons in his deal making more than he already had. Besides, the thought of his son being anywhere near this bright-eyed boy… it made his stomach roll uncomfortably.

"It's okay, dad," Sam sighed, not meeting anyone's gaze. His arms were folded across his chest and his lower jaw quivered. "Like you said… it's for the bullets…"

"Way to take one for the team," Dean muttered encouragingly. Sam glared at him.

While clearly unconvinced, John had no choice. He had come this far and gotten the Colt, to leave without the bullets would have made it all for naught. Sighing, he nodded. "Alright."

Harry silently handed over the pouch, purposefully not looking at Sam. John emptied the contents of the bag into his hands and his face fell. There were only three bullets.

"What else do you want?" John growled, frustration and anger easily evident in his voice.

"This is the last thing, I swear," Harry promised, an uneasy grin on his face. He was reaching the limit of how far he was able to push the Winchesters, and it wouldn't be long before they took the bullets they had and tried to kill him with the Colt anyway. Coughing, Harry ducked his head and told his final request. "For the final three bullets, I want, ah - another kiss..." Dean and John once more turned to Sam and the tall hunter looked pained. "…from Dean."

"Sorry, Sa—wait, what?" Dean had been about to offer fake words of comfort to his brother, but the last of Harry's request struck like a bullet between the eyes. "Woh, hold on a second here…"

"What's wrong, Dean?" Sam asked, grinning spitefully. "You just gotta take one for the team, right?"

That stopped the denial that was no doubt on Dean's lips and he slumped, accepting of his fate but clearly resenting every minute of it. "…Fine."

John was glaring at Harry spitefully, but if his son agreed to do it, then he couldn't refuse. "Alright, I accept."

Harry grinned lightly and handed over the second felt bag which contained the final three bullets. John inspected the bullets critically before appearing satisfied. The man loaded the Colt swiftly and stored it away with deliberate fondness.

Coughing, Harry gained all of their attention. "I'd like to - uh, collect my payment… for the bullets?"

Dean was looking at the door desperately, wanting nothing more than to run out of it and escape in his Impala. Sam appeared to agree, and he would no doubt be right on Dean's tail should his brother bolt. Their hesitation was understandable, Harry supposed, but he still couldn't help but be a little downtrodden by their reactions.

Although he didn't like admitting it, Harry wanted to kiss them—hell, he wanted to do more. But, from Sam and Dean's reaction, they obviously didn't feel the same. Maybe they weren't his soul mates…

Either way, Harry was about to find out.