Disclaimer: Not mine, borrowed and nurtured. Edited: 4/05/19.

7.

Bobby's

"Take your shoes off before you track mud all over the floor," Bobby hung his jacket on a vacant chair in the middle of the room. The kitchen table cluttered with newspapers, an open crossword puzzle, beakers and Bunsen burners resembled Snape's potions classroom.

Draco stared at Bobby's belongings: books and magazines ranging in size and colour piled on bookshelves obscuring paintings on his walls. The orange glow of the lamps scattered around the room gave the house an eerie feel.

Bobby had five muggle phones mounted on the wall with different names on them.

Castiel sat in front of a black box with moving pictures, grey-socked toes crossed above the coffee table, his right hand wrapped around a rectangular object. Dean grabbed a beer from the fridge. Draco glanced at the newspapers – all reported missing persons, and gruesome murders across the country.

"So, what's the plan?" he asked, afraid to relax, for then he'd be confronted with his past.

Dean emerged with a pie and a grin, "Bobby's Shepherd's pie."

Draco wondered what Shepherd's pie was and examined Ben's Lego piece from his pocket.

"Many messages?" Carmen asked Bobby when he closed his notebook and put down his pencil.

"Forty-three," he admitted. "Might take me a while to get back to them all."

Dean explained to an incredulous Carmen.

"Bobby's who we call when we need assistance: he does all the research to help us on the job."

Dean turned on a contraption on the wall and placed the pie into it.

"Twenty minutes, I reckon," he muttered, changing the clock to 0:20.

Dean returned to the table, put down his beer, and looked at Castiel, immersed in the news, then he pulled the crossword towards him, and grabbed a pen. Draco watched Carmen looking at photographs of a blonde woman wearing an ornate dress in various poses – Bobby's wife, he presumed.

Draco returned his gaze to the box with moving pictures. Muggles in khaki uniforms interviewed neighbours, as a red ribbon at the bottom of the screen read: 'Serial killer at large, multiple murders, Sheriffs in multiple counties on high alert.' Castiel sat on the edge of his seat, muttering to himself.

Carmen took the empty chair beside Dean, who chewed the end of his pen, stuck on a question. She read the clues aloud, answering them one after the other. Draco caught Bobby's smirk, before he checked on the pie in the oven.

"This is the only dish I'd mastered from my wife's cookbook – Karen," he explained. "Can never get the potatoes as fluffy as hers, but at least it's edible," he joked.

Draco twisted his wand between his fingertips, asking the question nobody else cared about.

"What happened to her?"

Bobby removed his cap, and left it on the bench, eyes wet with fresh tears.

Dean gave Draco a pointed look, like it was his intention to make an old man cry, Draco frowned.

"She died," Bobby said, wiping his hand over his face. "Twice, the first time, possessed by a demon – Rufus exorcised her, but she died of her injuries. The second, Death resurrected her, and I killed her, at her request, before becoming a zombie." Bobby finished his beer in silence.

Draco was beginning to realise; pain and suffering was universal. It didn't matter which world you lived in, or whether you were a wizard or muggle, it tore you down just the same.

"It's going to be a long night," Bobby said, flipping through his notepad.

Carmen looked up from Dean's almost finished crossword. "I'll help, it's only fair."

Dean shook his hand beneath his chin, but Bobby smiled at Carmen, "I'd like that," he said.

Draco pulled his gaze from the 'television'. "Me too," he agreed.

Castiel spoke without turning his head. "No! Draco, your destiny does not revolve around clerical duties - you and Dean need to stop the war: only as a team will you defeat the monsters."

Draco heard everyone's stomachs grumbling and an ear-piecing beeping – which they all ignored.

"What have you gotten Dean into?" Bobby asked Castiel. "And Draco - he's just a boy."

Draco complained, he wasn't a boy at all, in the magical world; he was an adult.

It felt like years since he'd seen his parents – were they even alive still?

"It was not my idea, but God's idea," Castiel said, eyes still glued to the 'television.'

Dean pushed his chair out, sitting upright, so he could question Castiel further.

"What exactly does God want, Cas?" Dean interjected. "I'm sick of being a pawn in his plans."

Castiel turned the television off using the rectangular object in his hand, like it was a wand.

"He forbade me to tell you." Castiel hesitated, "But I could give you a clue - magic."

Draco heard Bobby remove the pie from the 'oven'. Carmen cleared the table as Draco pondered his role in God/Merlin's plans: "How are we going to change the world?" he asked Dean.

"By working together-" Dean murmured.

Hunting wasn't just a career; it was a lifestyle, which meant Draco wasn't going home anytime soon.

"Fine, I'll take the kid with me. Carmen can stay here, she's safer with Bobby, anyway. Cas, what are you going to do?" Dean nodded, awaiting the Angel's answer.

Castiel pointed to the ceiling. "Return to Heaven and converse with my Father."

Dean and Bobby grimaced, Bobby handing Dean the plates and cutlery for the table.

Carmen gasped when Castiel vanished in the blink of an eye - neither Draco, Dean nor Bobby flinched.

"I guess I shouldn't be shocked: a scarecrow just tried to kill me."

Draco remembered only too clearly.

Dean clapped his hands together, startling them.

"Tonight, we'll start on the most urgent cases, but first I need pie!"

Draco found the pie wasn't half as bad as he thought and had two servings.

"Bobby! Run us through what you've got so far-" Dean asked, shovelling in spoonful's of pie.

Bobby went on and on about strange occurrences all over the country; from nests of violent vampires, to ghouls and missing persons; from witches (and Draco raised his eyes at this one) and demons, to werewolves and pagan gods.

"You'd think the Campbell's would have been on that. Have you heard from Rufus?" Dean asked, putting his fork down onto his empty plate.

Bobby sighed, "I have ten messages, I haven't gotten to yet. I figured this, was enough for now."

The doorbell rang.

Dean closed his hand around his gun resting on the table. Bobby picked up his rifle. Draco poised with his wand, ready to nox the lights, or curse the intruders, should Dean give him reason to. Carmen gave Draco a strange look, wondering how the wooden stick in his hand would protect them. Draco wondered if the pen she held above her right ear would do anything other than leak ink.

Bobby swung the door open.

There was dead silence, Draco's heart pounded in his ears.

"Hi Dean," a tall man with a sorrowful expression stood on the porch, accompanied by a woman with black wavy hair and a frustrated expression.

"Stay where you are!" Dean didn't lower his gun.

Bobby looked bewildered at the unexpected visitor.

"Sam?" Bobby asked.

Dean grabbed a flask from Bobby's hand and tossed it over the visitors.

The woman shrieked, glaring at Dean as though he'd lost his mind.

"That was refreshing," The tall man said, wiping his face. "We're not demons, Dean. Can we come in? I have lots to tell you." Dean didn't move.

Bobby lowered his rifle, giving Dean a curt nod, and Dean allowed them to enter.

The strangers came into the kitchen. Draco could feel the tall man's gaze burning into his skin. He remembered the initials etched into the Impala. S.W. Dean's brother, Sam Winchester.

"Who are you two?" Sam acknowledged Draco and Carmen, as he removed his boots at the door.

"I picked them up on the road."

Dean neglected to tell Sam, Draco was a wizard, maybe because he wouldn't believe him, or maybe, he was afraid of what Sam might do.

Sam took the beer Bobby handed him and sat in Draco's empty chair.

"This is Sarah Blake, she'll be staying with us indefinitely," he explained.

Draco and Carmen put down their weapons and sat back at the table. Dean nodded at Sarah. Carmen retrieved two more plates from the kitchen, whilst Draco eyed Sam's bloodied nose.

"What happened to your nose?" Bobby queried, handing Sam a pack of frozen peas.

Sam took it, the pain had dulled a little, he had more important things on his mind.

"Difference of opinion. Look, Azazel, the Yellow-Eyed Demon resurrected Samuel and I for a mission. We were stopped by Lucifer possessing Adam, who killed Azazel, and returned my soul. Sarah's father was murdered, her home destroyed – Lucifer told me to tell Castiel, 'thanks' – where's is Castiel?"

Dean and Bobby exchanged looks of concern.

"He's gone to speak with God," Dean explained, studying Sam's reaction.

Sam's mouth opened in surprise, scanning their grim expressions.

"So, what's been going on here?"

Dean looked at Bobby. "We fought off a fugly scarecrow/Pagan God, and now we're going through Bobby's messages. You arrived just when we needed you," Dean tore blank pages from a notebook and gave them to Carmen and Sarah - "Sarah, you're welcome to help Carmen and Bobby go through the messages. Sam, Draco and I'll follow up with the cases, one by one."

Sarah raised her eyebrows as though she had misheard him.

"I'm sorry, do I not get any autonomy here? I'm entitled to fight this shit as much as you are."

Dean had forgotten who he was talking to, a feisty, Sarah Blake – capable of holding a torch above Isiah's grave as he and Sam burned his bones, and who had swept Sam off his feet. In the six years that had passed, she hadn't aged much, and her glare only made him admit why he was reluctant.

"I already saved you once, don't make me do it again."

Bobby cleared the plates from the table.

"Sam, train them, I'm not going to get any work done if they stay."

Sarah sent Dean a 'I told you so' look, which he frowned at, now he had two extras to worry about.

Carmen brought the empty pie dish into the kitchen and filled the sink with water.

"Are you sure you can manage?" she asked Bobby.

Bobby sighed, "I've been doing this for half my life. You my dears, need to learn how to defend yourselves. That's the most important thing at the moment."

The Winchesters perused the first forty messages, deciding to split into two groups to manage the twenty jobs each. Sam and Dean bid each other good luck, Sarah choosing Sam, and Carmen and Draco choosing Dean. They left Bobby to his research, and Dean turned on the Impala's engine:

"We'll see you on route 66," he reminded Sam.


Castiel waited in Heaven's garden. It was peaceful, heavenly. It reminded him of what used to be; when everything balanced; before the uprising and before the war. As he waited, thoughts bombarded his mind.

Draco and Dean must meet - they would be the ones to defeat the darkness, from two similar worlds, they would make Heaven what it used to be. Lucifer and Azazel wreaked havoc on earth; frustrated by God's treatment of them.

Castiel lifted the grass, watching it morph into concrete. The bushes turned to ash, and the warmth of the sun became dull lamps. He stood in a cramped square room with one door - God's absence had divided the angels, some had pledged allegiance to him, others to Raphael.

Demons were everywhere.

Hunters were being massacred.

Traitors were at large.

Death was on call every minute and Reapers were exhausted.

The Winchester's world was crumbling.

Castiel liked Sam and Dean but sometimes he envied them. He had regained some of his humanity being Dean's friend, but Raphael did not understand Castiel's bond with the humans. Castiel heard footsteps and pulled out his archangel blade, only to lower it in disbelief.

"Impossible," he muttered.

Adam Winchester stood with a smirk on his boyish face, like he knew something Castiel didn't.

This was not unusual.

"Castiel, why don't you greet me like brothers normally do?" Lucifer held out his hand. Castiel declined. "No? How rude. Father in? I'm needing a word." He paused. "You look fatter? Have you been eating too many burgers like your Winchester pets? Speaking of, I killed Azazel about an hour ago. Sam Winchester is free."

Castiel glared at his fallen brother. "How did you escape Hell?" Castiel demanded.

Lucifer shrugged. "I was hoping Father could enlighten me. I'm presuming He called Michael out of Hell, which left Adam available for possession. Judging by your surprise, it wasn't you who brought me home?" Castiel shook his head. "Pity. I hope you don't mind me cutting in then?"

"Where's Sam?" Castiel interjected.

"I released him and his lover. They should meet up with Dean and the others soon."

Castiel furrowed his brow. Lucifer had not been welcome in Heaven for thousands of years, why would he return? Revenge? Who had been stupid enough to release him from the cage?

There were a third set of footsteps.

Castiel and Lucifer turned to see Raphael; tall, dark and terrifying in that 'too calm' sort of way. He smiled and rubbed his hands together like any business man with an ulterior motive, Castiel thought.

Raphael reached out his hand, ignoring Castiel's increasing annoyance.

"How nice it is to have you back on our soil, Lucifer. Come, God is waiting." Lucifer shook Raphael's hand eager to return to his place in the clouds.

Castiel pulled out his blade, trench coat swinging in the breeze as Raphael's hench-angels appeared.

Raphael drawled, "Castiel, you really ought to join me. Don't you get tired of resisting all the time?"

"I won't ever stop fighting for my freedom, and I don't believe God will either," Castiel said.

Raphael put a welcoming arm around Lucifer's shoulders.

"Well, God has been stubborn 'tis true. But now that he's back, he will listen. Lucifer and I have business to discuss - we won't be finished for some time."

The Hench-Angels, adorned in black capes and sinister scowls, raised their blades and lunged at him. Castiel dodged, defended and slashed. Two on one may seem unfair, but they weren't any sort of challenge; he knew how they fought, and their weaknesses and soon their bodies wasted away, leaving only an imprint of their dark massive wings plastered to the floor.

He was alone, fighting for justice, honouring God's way of life.

The Winchester's had their own war to fight. Draco had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts and Castiel fought for freedom. Three wars - one answer. The Prophecy was the only thing that could save them now and God had put his trust in his only Lieutenant.

Anna appeared by Castiel's shoulder. She didn't say anything, staring at their brothers' imprinted wings fused to the concrete. She was loyal but had made mistakes in the past. She took Castiel's blade and wiped it clean on the grass returning beneath his feet.

"You are our true leader, Castiel, and we'll stand with you, as long as you need us."

He took back his weapon, comforted by Anna's allegiance.

"Raphael has Lucifer and he's trying to persuade God of his atrocious plans."

Anna nodded. "What would you like us to do?" she asked.

Castiel saw dozens of angels appear before him, determined for a better future.

"We need to open that door," Castiel explained, throwing a look ahead.

Anna smiled. "Shouldn't be too hard."

They examined the door to God's chambers and Castiel noticed Raphael had sealed it shut with witch's blood. Of course, he was one annoying step ahead of them. They couldn't get through the door until they found the witch who'd given her blood. In a world as enormous as theirs, this could be a problem.

Anna led one half of the rebel angels across the world looking for the witch while Castiel took the other. The witch was special, seventeen years old, and very bright. God had given him an image of the bushy-haired witch and whispered: find Hermione Granger and you shall find me.

One thing Raphael always forgot when it came to God - he would use old magic if needed.

Castiel and his followers stood in the Forbidden Forest, looking out at a magnificent castle crumbling before their eyes. A terrible voice boomed around them, deafening their eardrums and a coldness seized every happy memory they possessed.

'Harry Potter is dead. Join me now or lose your love ones. I can make it all stop, but only if you come over to my side. Don't be foolish to fight against me, the darkest wizard of all time. Don't be selfish to those who have already fought valiantly against Death. Join me and bury your love ones. Harry Potter is dead and there is a new order.'

The angels waited for Castiel's orders, unnerved. He pointed to Hogwarts, where Hermione Granger and God waited for them.


Bobby had sent Dean and his companions to Worthington, a town south of Indiana. They stood on the outskirts of the town with the Impala's trunk raised, revealing Dean's arsenal. Draco listened to Dean's instructions on how to kill the new monsters on their list – vampires.

"Wooden stakes and machetes kill vampires," Dean explained. "Aim for the heart, or heads."

Carmen stared at the contents in the trunk with a timid expression.

"Salt protects you from ghosts and demons," Draco added, pointing to the bags nearby.

Dean nodded, "Make sure you pour it across doorways and windowsills - don't ever muck it up or you'll break your shield and die." Draco noticed Carmen gripped her fingers of her right hand in her left hand but remained determined to fight. She dipped her head, agreeing she understood.

Dean turned off the crackling radio and grabbed a muggle toy with flashing red and green lights. "There's something here alright," he muttered, moving the device across his mid-section. "Let's go, first we'll interrogate the locals." Carmen gave Draco a package from the car wrapped in brown paper.

Draco tapped his wand on it, causing the wrapping to disappear, revealing a black suit.

They weren't dress-robes, exactly.

"We're FBI agents. Let me do the talking," Dean pulled off his shirt, oblivious to Draco and Carmen's shocked expressions. Draco touched his wand to his new clothes, replacing his black jacket and pants with his new suit. He adjusted his sleeves and tie and ran a hand through his blond hair.

"That's-" Dean's sentence failed, entranced by Draco's magic.

"-awesome? Yeah." Draco tapped Dean's arm, causing Dean's suit to materialise on him too.

"Keep your eyes open for any funny business," Dean murmured, handing out sheathed machetes.

"Where's my costume?" Carmen queried, disappointed to find there was no package with her name.

Dean slammed his trunk, "I hadn't counted on you coming."

Carmen frowned and tied her sheath around her waist.

"Lumos!" Draco's wand lit up the abandoned streets.

The wind rustled leaves off the ground and tree branches creaked. Dean passed a gutter, kneeling to touch something red and sticky – which his muggle toy had alerted him to. He brought the substance to his nose, making Carmen and Draco uncomfortable – it resembled blood.

"Something was killed here," he stepped back to show Draco and Carmen the blood spill leading back inside the gutter. "Whatever it was, pulled it down with it." Draco thought of grotesque monsters, scarier than Dementors or Acromantulas. He lowered his light towards the dark opening of the gutter.

Carmen screamed as thick vines sprouted from the gutter and enveloped Draco's legs, yanking him to his knees, then they wound around his ribcage, crushing one of two bones, before snaking around his neck. Draco's wand clattered to the ground, leaving him helpless.

"I don't want to di-" Draco gasped as the vine tightened around his throat.

Carmen had picked up Draco's wand, shouting at him to reach for it.

"Carmen, your machete!" Dean yelled, facing a monster he never knew existed.

Carmen unsheathed her weapon, and hacked at the vines, eager to rescue the boy.

Dean fired a shot - the plant recoiled, and Draco fell. Draco caught his breath, slipping and sliding in the sticky blood and thanked Carmen for his wand, taking cover behind Dean.

"It's Devil's snare," Draco shouted, remembering seeing smaller versions in Sprout's Herbology class. But what the heck were these plants doing growing in America? How did they get all the way out here? Did it mean there were other witches and wizards around?

Thick vines as big as a log knocked Dean and Draco from their feet, winding them both. Carmen hacked away at it, protecting her friends with an energy Dean admired.

Dean helped Draco onto his feet. "How do you kill it?" he asked, reaching for his gun.

"Keep shooting it!" Draco yelled.

Truth be told he had forgotten every spell he'd ever learnt.

What was it that Professor Sprout had said killed Devil's Snare?

"I'm running low on bullets," Dean warned, "And it's not stopping it, just pissing it off."

Carmen was fighting a losing battle, each time she hacked a vine – it grew back ten times as strong.

Draco wracked his brain, then he had it, thrashing his wand at the creature, "Lumos Solem!"

Dean watched as Draco sent blue waves of enchantments at the creature causing it to recoil in agony, the flames licking up its limbs until it burned into nothingness. Carmen helped Dean to his feet, machete loose in her right hand. Draco and Dean wiped sweat from their foreheads and hoped that was the last they saw of the Devil's Snare.

A/N: Please review.