Note: Yes, I'm the worst person to ever hold an account on this site and if anyone is still reading then I have much better fans than I deserve. The only defense I have, and please here me out because it benefits all of you avid readers, is that I am a total nerd. I discovered the Mistborn trilogy by Brandon Sanderson and I've fallen in love. Curse me all you wish but check the books out!!! I haven't slept for days (and I almost missed Spn) so it definitely is worth the read. =D Read & Review if you like. I appreciate your patience. Read on, young lions!

*******

Cold air came through the open window and reached the sleeping youth on the bed. He was lying curled up on his side with his back to the wall. As another gush of wind came in, fluttering the cheap motel room curtains, the boy mumbled in his sleep and pressed further back on the bed in an attempt to escape the chill. His hands clutched the scratchy bed sheets and a frown marred his graceful features.

Another gust of wind pressed into the room, innocently brushing against the youth with more force. With an audible huff, the boy reached out for the source of the problem. A loud smashing sound echoed around the room as the window was slammed shut by an invisible force.

Harry, still fast asleep, slumped back into the mattress.

Sam and Dean sat at the small wooden table on the other side of the room, not quite sure how to respond to the incident. They shared a look before staring at the motionless boy on the bed closest to the, now shut, window.

"That was…interesting," Sam commented. He turned to find his brother still gazing at Harry, his eyes soft as he studied the boy. Dean turned to Sam, looking thoughtful.

"You think it was a good idea bringing him along?" On further inspection, Dean looked troubled. Sam thought about how best to answer his brother.

"Dean," Sam began, choosing his words carefully, "I trust him." Ok, maybe not carefully enough, with the way Dean was looking at him.

"We just met him, Sam. And he's a witch!" Dean exclaimed. He kept his voice low, not wanting to wake Harry. Sam was giving him one of those looks.

"So, you're telling me it's not ok for me to trust Harry but it's fine for you to want to get in his pants?" Sam asked. Dean glared at him but Sam's tone didn't leave room for him to protest. He tried anyway.

"There's a big difference. Besides, what's it to you if I like him. You're not gonna tell you didn't at least look at him. Kid's way better looking than the women we run into." Dean's tone was teasing as he nudged his little brother with his shoulder. Sam let their former conversation drop and focused on his sex-crazed brother.

"Yeah, he is. I'm just surprised you noticed. I always took you for a womanizer, Dean."

"I'm nothing if not open-minded," Dean glared as Sam choked on a laugh. "He's probably not interested anyway." Sam rolled his eyes as Dean gave a small sigh.

"I seriously doubt that's true. Dean," Sam said, stifling a laugh as his brother turned to him with poorly disguised hope in his eyes. "But, he can't be more than fifteen or so…"

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam and said, "You're such a prude."

"Dean, you really need to stick to people your own age. Harry did call you old and you aren't helping your cause by calling him a kid." Dean gave him a look.

"Come on, Sam, I'm not seriously gonna try anything. He's a witch and…well he's a witch!"

"He doesn't seem so bad. Not like any other witch we've heard of," Sam said. He didn't really know why he trusted Harry but he couldn't help but feel that they were more of a danger to him.

"That's fine that you trust him, alright? That's what you do. I'm here just in case he starts sprouting horns and eating babies, Dean said calmly. Sam huffed in annoyance, knowing Dean wouldn't budge.

"He saved my life," Sam said, quietly watching Harry. "Even when he could have let us both get killed, he risked his life to save us, Dean. That's got to count for something."

Dean didn't have a response to that. Harry had done those things, even after Dean tried to kill him. He had protected the fallen Sam even though he made it clear that his sole purpose was killing Bella. Harry had even risked his life to keep Dean from being caught and then went on to save Alessia the first chance he got.

But that wasn't enough for Dean. For all they knew, Harry was trying to get their trust and plotting some mass murder or something worse. He couldn't trust Harry. Not completely.

Sam was quiet, obviously waiting for Dean to comment. He hesitated but was saved the trouble of answering by a small whimper coming from the bed. They shared a look but stayed where they were. After a few minutes, Sam spoke.

"Should we wake him up?"

"He probably just fell off his broom or something." Dean chuckled as Sam shot him a glare.

Sam glanced at Harry again before pulling his laptop on the table and getting ready to search for another job. Dean pulled open a newspaper but kept his eyes and ears trained on the bed.

*******

Hogwarts had never looked so magnificent. Harry had always loved how the school grounds looked during the first days of snow: beautiful, innocent, untainted.

The grounds were carpeted with a thick layer of snow and tiny specs of white continued to fall from the winter sky. Hagrid's hut sat at the edge of the forest, looking like a giant gingerbread house, and the Forbidden Forest looked brighter, almost welcoming. The lake was frosted over as far as the eye could see and it looked just as beautiful as it's surroundings.

And the castle. Harry's majestic home sat in the center of it all, demanding attention with it's size and traces of power. The many towers were covered in snow but the majority of the castle could be made out in between layers of white, almost as if fighting off the winter cold.

But there was something wrong. Harry didn't notice it at first, being too caught up in the castle's beauty, but something wasn't right with the perfect picture in front of him. The grounds were empty. Not a creature in sight and Harry had a feeling, looking toward the castle, that it would be the same inside.

Not quite sure what to think, Harry turned to look at Hagrid's home. It was gone. A glance toward where the forest and lake should be told him that it too had vanished. Slowly, heart hammering in his chest, Harry turned to the castle, his home for the better part of his life. There was nothing there but snow. His home was gone.

He stood still for a moment, not knowing how to react. A crackling sound made him realize he was holding something in his hand. He looked down at the spare piece of parchment. No, the Marauder's Map.

Words appeared on the page before he could say the incantation, proclaiming the map to its owner. Harry unfolded it. Where he expected to see the hundreds of lines marking the rooms of the castle and the surrounding grounds, there was nothing. Nothing but a single dot in the center of the parchment, with a name written in small but flourish script.

Harry Potter.

*******

Harry bolted upright, unfortunately on the edge of his bed. He toppled to the ground with a squeak but managed to avoid a concussion. He rolled onto his knees, eyes blurry with sleep, and reached for the trunk at his bedside. He could hear scrambling behind him but he was too busy throwing items out of the trunk at full speed. Finally, down near the bottom of the trunk's depths, Harry found what he was looking for.

He pulled the map out with shaking fingers and settled anxiously on his folded legs. He opened the parchment slowly, careful not to tear it, and stared for a long moment at the blank pages.

"I solemnly swear, I'm up to no good," he whispered. He waited silently, eyes boring into the page.

A hand fell on his shoulder and he gasped from holding his breath for so long. He dropped the map and felt his magic respond to his sudden fear. He was suddenly pulled to the side and over the bed. That would have been great if Harry hadn't landed hard on his side, injuring his sore ribs.

He remained still before slowly making his way to his feet, clutching his side. He used the bed to steady himself and got a clear view of Dean, who was apparently trying to figure out whether to help him or laugh. He settled for a questioning look followed by:

"What the hell was that?"

Harry, still feeling the effects of his fall, gave him a look before collapsing on the bed, still clutching his side. The sudden change in position sent a stab of pain through Harry's body and he moaned piteously into the mattress. He felt the bed sink slightly as someone sat down.

"Kid, are you alright?" Beneath the pain, Harry felt his stomach flutter at the concern in Dean's voice. He took a few deep breaths before gingerly rolling onto his back.

"Peachy," he said.

Dean raised an eyebrow at him before studying Harry's body with a critical eye, trying to find injuries. Harry felt himself blush at the intensity of Dean's gaze and he squirmed a bit under the attention. Dean caught his gaze and Harry saw a faint smirk on the other man's lips.

"What is that, Harry?" Harry tilted his head back to find Sam standing by the window, nodding toward the parchment.

From this angle, Harry couldn't tell if there was anything written on it. He sat up and moved toward the fallen map at a safer speed than the first time. His hands were fairly steady as he reached the edge of the bed and picked up the map. He glanced at the brothers but focused his attention on the parchment.

On the front of the parchment, as Harry had expected, were the words from the Marauders. Harry opened the parchment, the same feeling of dread churning his stomach uncomfortably. On the inside folds of the parchment was…nothing. No lines. No people. No Hogwarts.

His dropped his hands to his lap, eyes staring forward but not taking anything in. Hogwarts should have appeared on the map no matter where the map holder was. The fact that Harry was in America didn't change the fact that Hogwarts was in England. So, why was Hogwarts suddenly gone?

Unless…maybe Harry's first thoughts about being only miles from home was incorrect. After all, someone would have figured out that the veil was simply a doorway to a different continent and then it wouldn't be such a mystery. But, maybe it wasn't a passage between life and death but between worlds. Bella had made some remarks about that. Somewhere on this fragile little world she had said. That would explain why Bella hadn't simply gone home and why, if Sirius was alive he hadn't returned to Hogwarts either.

Harry felt different emotions battling for attention inside his head. He couldn't describe his feelings when he thought about never seeing his home again but he also couldn't deny the relief that dominated his entire being. If there was no Hogwarts then their was no Wizarding World and, more importantly, there was no war for Harry to participate in.

Harry Potter would always remain famous no matter if he had completed his duty as the Chosen One or not. Harry had accepted long ago that he would never be normal and he would never have a life free of worry. Not as long as he was a wizard. And definitely not as long as he was Harry Potter.

But, he wasn't in the same world anymore. No one knew him here and no one expected anything from him. He could easily fit in among the locals and leave all thoughts of magic behind. He could be happy. He could be free.

"Kid, you're really starting to worry us."

Harry turned to Sam and Dean and saw that they did look pretty worried at his odd behavior. He gave them a completely natural smile and felt another flutter in his stomach as Dean gave him another one of 'those' looks.

"Sorry, what were you saying?"

"We were just wondering why you got thrown across the room. It would also help if you explain why you're staring at a blank piece of paper…"

"Oh, that," Harry said, wincing as his side reminded him of his recent fall. "That was my magic being…helpful. Sorry, if I scared you."

"Helpful?" Sam repeated.

"Yes. Great, isn't it?" Harry tossed the map back into the trunk and then moved to start tossing his clothes back in as well. The brothers watched him silently as he closed the trunk with a snap.

"Couldn't you have used magic to do that?" Sam asked. Dean stood and walked to the small refrigerator and Sam took his seat on the bed. Harry sat on his trunk and looked at Sam.

"I guess I could have," he answered.

"But you didn't."

Harry shrugged. "I'm used to doing everything the normal way."

Sam looked thoughtful as Dean came back and handed him a beer. Harry accepted his bottle of Coke without comment, but inwardly rolled his eyes as he thought about all the drinks he had with Ron and the others.

"Can I ask you something?"

Harry noticed Sam was trying not to look at his brother as he spoke. Curious, Harry nodded.

"Why don't you trust us?" Dean rolled his eyes but didn't say anything. Harry thought about how best to answer.

"I'm not very trusting to begin with. It's nothing personal, not really. It's just common sense to not trust someone who has the power and motivation to kill you."

"We wouldn't hurt you after you saved our lives," Sam protested. Then, thoughtfully, he continued, "I can't explain why but I trust you. I know you won't do anything to hurt us." He gave Dean a glare to stop any comments.

Harry was a bit shocked at the declaration. Why did Sam trust him so much? It was the same at the hospital when Sam confessed to being a hunter so easily. Harry just thought he had a trusting personality but that couldn't be too smart considering his profession.

"You shouldn't," Harry said. At their confused looks he elaborated, "Trust me, I mean. I may not try to harm you but I do have the power to and that's really all that should matter."

"You sound like Dean," Sam said, sounding put out.

"You should trust his judgment then," Harry said, ignoring the glances he was getting from Dean. "You're very trusting. For a hunter."

Sam smiled. "Well, you're pretty trustworthy. For a witch."

"Wizard," Harry corrected.

"What exactly is the difference?" Dean asked.

"Gender," Harry said. Sam laughed and Dean rolled his eyes at the answer.

"I meant the difference between what you are and the witches we've seen." He didn't quite meet Harry's eyes when he asked that.

How much did Harry want them to know? For some reason, maybe due to the attraction he felt toward Dean, Harry really wanted to prove he was as trustworthy as Sam believed him to be. Harry didn't really see the harm in telling them about his world, not if said world didn't even exist. Besides, it could help save them if they realized how dangerous Bella could be.

"The biggest difference is that I didn't sell my soul for my magic. It's been in my family for generations."

"It's hereditary?" Sam eagerly awaited more information. Harry thought of Hermione and smiled faintly.

"Yes. I've had my magic since I was born. That's what makes actual witches and wizards far more dangerous than your knock-offs. We've always had power while witches," Harry mimicked quotation marks with his fingers in the air, "were born without an ounce of it."

"So, not all of you are evil?" Sam asked hopefully.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course not. Honestly, we're as human as you are. We just happen to have special abilities. It's your witches that are completely loony."

Harry set aside his drink and pulled his trunk open. He rummaged around for a bit before recovering a thick book Hermione had insisted he read during their first year. He turned to the brothers and hesitated. It couldn't do any harm to tell them more. Harry's world didn't exist here so it wouldn't matter what they knew.

He handed the book to Sam. "You look like you might enjoy reading that."

"What is it?" Dean glared suspiciously at the book as Sam opened it carefully.

"Wizarding World?" Sam asked, glancing at Harry in surprise as he read the first page.

"Yup. That should tell you most of what you want to know."

"And you're just gonna let him read it? Just like that?"

"Sure. Why wouldn't I?"

Sam looked up. "Well, it sort of says not to in here." Harry tilted his head in confusion. "It's very clear about hiding the existence of your world from…well, I'm guessing a muggle is someone like me. Won't you be in some kind of trouble for even talking to us about this?"

Harry shrugged. "That would be assuming that my world exists here which I'm seriously starting to doubt." He got matching blank looks in response but he remained silent.

"How exactly did you end up in America?" Dean asked carefully.

"Well, Bella and I sort of got landed here. Magically. At first, I thought I just got transported to a different continent. Now, I'm not so sure it was that simple."

Dean looked like he was going to ask more but was interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing. Harry watched Sam read as Dean moved to answer the call. Harry smiled when he saw that Sam was wide-eyed and practically drooling at all the information.

Dean joined them again, bouncing around with joy. Harry raised an eyebrow at his childish nature but all he got in return was a cheerful wink.

"Werewolf," he announced after a moment.

Sam looked up at his brother and promptly rolled his eyes at Dean's enthusiasm, apparently realizing what the other man was talking about. Harry, on the other hand, was extremely confused.

"Werewolf?" Harry questioned.

Dean nodded heartily. Harry watched him practically skip over to his duffel bag. He turned to Sam, hoping he would get a better answer from him. He raised an eyebrow at him and Sam gave Harry a sympathetic smile.

"He's talking about our next hunt."

Harry's eyes widened in alarm. "You're going to hunt a werewolf?"

"Don't worry, Harry. We've done this before."

Harry's eyes widened to a painful size at that point. "It isn't you I'm worried about."

Sam looked startled at his statement but couldn't say anymore as Dean chose that moment to stand in front of him with an impatient look on his face.

"Dude, werewolf," he said.

"I'm coming with you," Harry announced as Sam stood. Dean turned to him with a frown.

"No," he said firmly.

Harry walked to where Sam was waiting at the door. Dean didn't move from his spot by the bed as he glared at Harry.

"Harry," he began warningly. Harry ignored Sam's smirk as he turned to face the approaching Dean.

"I wasn't asking for permission. I figure I owe you one for the time you went after Bella when I specifically told you not to." Harry smiled up at Dean as the older man attempted to loom over him.

"Dean, just let him come. It's getting late," Sam said. He opened the door and walked out toward the car. Harry followed.

"But-"

Harry turned and shot a smirk at Dean, who was standing in the doorway.

"Dude, werewolf," Harry said in a perfect imitation of Dean.

He glared at Harry for a moment before shouldering his duffel and following them to the car. He ignored Sam's laughter as he got into the Impala.

"Damn Englishmen," he muttered sullenly.

*******

Harry eyes the arsenal in the trunk at a distance. He had trained with enough muggle weapons to know exactly what a gun was capable of doing and it made him anxious to be around so many. Sam gave him a curious look as Dean handed him a gun. He watched as Harry shifted uncomfortably, eyes unfocused.

Harry remembered the times Shane had taken him on practice runs to hunt down stray Death Eaters. It was a great way for Harry to learn to move about without magic and everything had been going smoothly until they had actually run into Voldemort's unfortunate followers. Harry's stomach shifted as he recalled the blood and other more… disturbing things that had resulted from a few shots from Shane's gun.

He shook his head as he glanced around at his surroundings. Dean had driven them to an old farm a few miles from the actual city and it had taken them almost an hour to maneuver around the old farm equipment and finally come to a stop a short distance from the farmhouse. Harry could barely see it through the unattended grass. It also didn't help that the sun was well on its way to setting.

"Alright, come on. We have to get in there before it changes," Dean said. Harry noticed that he was in full 'hunter' mode. His eyes were alert and he was practically shaking with anticipation.

Dean turned to Harry and hesitated for a moment before handing him a gun. Harry stared at the object and looked back a Dean. It must have taken a lot for Dean to willingly give him another weapon that Harry could use on them. Harry appreciated the small show of trust but shook his head at Dean and went to stand by Sam before the other man had a chance to comment.

"You're not ok with us doing this, are you?" Sam asked quietly. Harry couldn't read his expression.

"No," he answered. He felt Dean join them as they looked at the blazing sky illuminating the seemingly abandoned home.

Dean gave them both a look before starting toward the house. Sam fell into step beside him but Harry followed at a slower pace.

Harry's thoughts were bordering on frantic. He shouldn't allow them to kill an innocent person! It wasn't the fault of the victim that it had been changed. If only he knew how to brew the Wolfsbane Potion… but even if he did, he would never find the ingredients. He felt that same sense of helplessness that had haunted him for years during his war with Voldemort.

They finally reached the house and Harry still couldn't think of a proper solution that wouldn't involve some poor soul's brains splattered everywhere. So, instead he chose to seek out the werewolf in the depths of the house and ignored the sinking feeling he got at the thought of how it's life would be ending in a few moments.

He frowned as he caught a small pulsing coming from somewhere beneath the home, probably the basement. It didn't feel like that same pulse he got when he was searching out Remus or any other werewolf he had come across. He came to a stop beside Dean, who was sweeping his eyes over the area with a trained eye.

"Are you sure it's a werewolf?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"Positive." Dean continued to glance around as Sam moved a few steps away to be able to see the side of the house.

"Well, it sure doesn't feel like one," Harry muttered as he walked over to where the front door was dangling precariously on one of its hinges. He felt Dean follow close behind as he gave the door a push and walked inside.

The inside was not what Harry expected at all. The walls were a sparkling white and everything was incredibly clean, almost sterilized in its perfection. Harry felt filthy just standing in the beautiful living room. Sam and Dean paused behind him, probably thinking along those same lines, but continued on to investigate the rest of the house.

Harry watched them disappear, feeling the pulse coming from below more strongly now that he was inside the house. He glanced guiltily at the brothers' retreating forms as he searched for a door that would take lead him to the basement.

He walked through the hallway leading to the kitchen and felt his heart constrict as he noticed the walls were covered in pictures of a smiling family. The woman had beautiful auburn hair and a heart shaped face while the man was more rugged looking. The child on the other hand, was a gorgeous little girl with her mother's feminine looks but her father's intense eyes. They looked happy in every picture.

Harry found the door in the spotless kitchen. It was locked. He hesitated as he felt the pulsing grow more insistent. Shooting a glance at the kitchen doorway, Harry used a push from his magic to open the sealed door and carefully walked down the narrow staircase.

He had a difficult time focusing on the stairs as he listened for any sound from below. After the second time he tripped, however, Harry paid attention to putting one foot in front of the other. Oddly, the moment where he tripped in the basement of the inn came to mind. He blushed as he remembered Dean's body pressed against his own and had to make a conscious effort to rid his mind of any stray thoughts.

Harry reached the bottom and was greeted with more darkness. He used a few charms to sharpen his vision and was deeply surprised by what it revealed.

In the center of the room, chained to a rusty boiler, was the little girl from the pictures. Or, Harry assumed it was the girl. There wasn't much left of her small body to know for certain.

Harry approached the figure, swallowing thickly. He stopped a short distance away, feeling sick to his stomach as he noticed the puddle of blood around the young girl. There were flecks of her torn flesh sitting in the dark liquid. It looked mostly fresh.

"Harry."

He jumped in surprise, and fear, as he heard Dean's voice carrying down the stairs. Harry cast a Lumos to light a few feet as Dean reached him, followed closely by Sam who was supporting a familiar looking woman. She looked on the point of death and seemed to be half asleep as she was carried down the stairs.

"Is that the werewolf?"

Sam shook his head. "The sun's already set and she hasn't changed. We found her tied to the bed but she hasn't said much."

Harry nodded and eyed the woman in concern. Sam twisted her to a more comfortable position and Harry realized, with a shock, that it was the woman from the pictures.

He was about to turn to Dean when her head shot up and she stared around the room frantically.

"No…" she moaned brokenly.

"What?" Sam asked gently.

She whimpered and shook her head violently. "He's still here." Her eyes fell on the mangled corpse of her daughter and she whimpered again, tears streaming down her gaunt face.

"What is she-"

Dean was interrupted by a sudden growl coming from the depths of the mostly darkened basement. Immediately, Sam placed himself in front of the crying woman and Dean, much to the wizard's amusement, stepped in front of Harry. The growling was followed by a crashing noise at their left, causing them to turn in alarm. Then there was silence.

The brothers remained still, both facing the space beneath the stairs. Harry, having been molded for combat, felt the air shift before the werewolf had a chance to leap. Harry turned and raised his arm, falling into a firm stance, casting a Mobilicorpus and catching the animal in midair.

He was startled to find that the werewolf looked nothing like an actual werewolf. The rugged man from the picture retained all his features, right down to his unshaven face. The only difference Harry could see was the mouthful of sharpened teeth and the crazed animal look in his dilated eyes. Harry was effectively frozen to the spot, mouth agape in disbelief.

"That's a werewolf?" he asked incredulously.

Sam was busy leading the woman back upstairs but Dean was next to him, pulling Harry to stand behind him as he trained his gun on the motionless animal.

"Yes, now run!"

"From the werewolf without fur?" Harry asked, still in quite a bit of shock.

"Harry!"

"Alright, alright…" Harry moved back a few steps but didn't leave the room. Dean shot him a warning glare. "The spell will hold for a few minutes."

Dean relaxed a bit but kept his gun raised.

"Are you going to kill him?" Harry asked quietly.

Dean gave him an unreadable look. "He killed his daughter and locked up his wife for dessert. What else would I do with him?"

Harry shrugged as he eyed the creature. He turned back when he heard Dean sigh and caught the man rolling his eyes.

"What?"

"You're pretty good at facing down an evil witch but killing a werewolf makes you squeamish. You're just like Sam."

Harry paused as he thought over Dean's words. Why was he being so hesitant about killing this creature? It had murdered its own daughter and was probably planning to do the same to its wife. So why did he feel so heartbroken at the thought of killing it? The answer was simple. Because of Remus, Harry would never feel right condemning another person to death for reasons they couldn't control.

"I had a good friend. He was a werewolf," Harry said.

Dean finally turned to look at him. "And he never hurt you?"

"Never. But, I guess that had more to do with the potion he was given to keep his mind during the change."

"Would you happen to have this potion now?"

Harry shook his head and turned away from Dean. He could feel a lump form in his throat as he realized that this man was going to die and Harry would have to stand by and let it happen. It was like being back home, hearing about all the deaths but not able to do anything to prevent them. Helplessness settled painfully in the pit of his stomach.

"Well, then we don't really have a choice." Dean pointed the gun directly at the creature's heart but hesitated. He turned to Harry again.

It was a millisecond later that the spell wore off and the animal was about to continue his flight, this time directly to Dean. Without thinking, Harry blinked in surprise and felt his magic take control of the gun in Dean's hands then pull the trigger. There was a loud growl, followed by a sharp gunshot, and then the creature crumpled to the stone floor.

Dean looked at the gun in his hands then at the fallen figure on the floor before his gaze fell on Harry. His eyes were wild from the sudden shock of adrenaline that had coursed through him at the attack and Harry could feel the same affect on his own body. His heart was pounding frantically and his hands were clenched into tight fists to keep them from shaking.

"You ok?" Dean walked those few steps to shorten the distance between them and Harry felt himself do the same.

Harry nodded as he came to a stop a few inches from Dean and took a shaky breath.

"Sorry for distracting you," he mumbled, green eyes sparkling as Dean caught his gaze.

Dean shook his head as he brought his hand up to brush against Harry's cheek, wiping a speck of blood from his skin. He kept his hand there and Harry felt his eyes almost completely close as he leaned into the caress.

Dean leaned forward that fraction of an inch and Harry found himself a breath away from the other man's face. He felt his lips part of their own accord and a shock of arousal went though him as he saw Dean's eyes flicker toward his mouth. Harry brought a hand up to brush against Dean's back as he pressed against the other man fully.

As if waiting for that exact signal, Dean's lips descended on Harry's with a fury. Harry barely registered the soft feel of the mouth against his own before a tongue pushed past his parted lips and expertly turned his legs to goo. Dean's hand against his cheek moved to the back of his neck and was used to tilt Harry's head back to allow him better access. Harry moaned softly and brought his other hand to get a hold of Dean, balancing himself enough to give as good as he got and he was thrilled to feel Dean's other hand grip his waist and pull him closer.

If he wasn't already aroused, the feel of Dean's hot flesh against his own with only pants separating them would have definitely done the job. He gasped a bit before pressing closer, rubbing against Dean almost wantonly and he heard Dean groan at the feel.

Then Harry heard the footsteps. He pulled away from the kiss, another thrill of arousal coursing through him as Dean attempted to pull him closer and reclaim his mouth. Harry dropped his hands and tried to pry Dean's hand from his waist.

"Sam's coming," he whispered.

Dean looked confused, his eyes still clouded with lust but finally he let go of Harry and muttered, "Damn it." He shot another look at Harry before retrieving his fallen gun and following Harry to the foot of the staircase. Sam's face appeared at the top, clearly visible with the kitchen light shining above him.

"I put her in the car but she isn't doing so good. We should probably drive her to the hospital now."

"Be right up," Harry said. Sam nodded and disappeared from sight.

Harry glanced at Dean who had his attention focused on Harry's backside. He glanced up as he felt Harry's stare and, rather than look sheepish, he gave Harry a lustfilled look and stepped right behind him. He aligned his hips with Harry's and he had to bite back a moan as he felt Dean's still hard arousal rubbing against him. He fought the urge to spread his legs and instead started climbing the stairs.

He shivered as he felt Dean's heated gaze on his back.

*******

"It was lucky for her that we got there when we did," Sam said , not sounding very pleased.

"We did what we could, Sammy. She's alive."

Sam didn't respond but Harry knew he was thinking about the two people they didn't save, one of them an innocent little girl. Dean changed the subject but Harry stared out the window of their room, emptying his mind of the events of the night and taking particular care of ignoring the small… incident with Dean. His success was short lived as he felt a lull in the conversation, meaning a question had been directed to him.

He turned back to the brothers. "Sorry, what?"

"We were wondering how old you are," Sam said.

Harry frowned in thought. "I should be seventeen by now."

Sam gave Dean a look which Dean promptly ignored. "I figured you were younger than Sammy." He didn't sound very disappointed.

"You're just mad I'm still the only 80's child," Sam smirked.

"Dude, the 80's had the worst music," Dean said with a grimace. "I barely escaped being one of you techno douche bags."

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother but didn't comment. Harry, on the other hand, was pretty confused.

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked cautiously. He had a sinking feeling that something was wrong here.

Dean groaned. "Don't tell me you like all those fruity bands."

"Not that. What you said before about when Sam was born," he said hesitantly.

His wary mood seemed to be piercing through their teasing. They shared another look before Sam answered.

"I was born in 1983."

Harry's mind went blank for a few seconds before it tried to process the information. The sinking feeling turned into a minor panic attack and he had to shake his head to clear his jumbled mind.

"But you're older than me," he said frowning.

Sam tilted his head in confusion. "Yeah…" He gave Harry a questioning look.

Harry shook his head again and willed himself to remain calm. "I was born in 1980. So how are you older than me?"

Sam and Dean looked completely startled at his declaration and Dean started to protest at Harry's claim but Sam stopped him.

"Harry, what year is this?"

"1997," Harry answered.

The looks he was getting told Harry all he needed to know and he felt the weight of the silence steal his breath away and he very nearly started hyperventilated. He focused instead on the brothers. Dean was walking over to him with a newspaper. He handed it to Harry and sat beside him on the bed as Harry took in the date printed at the top corner.

August 16, 2003

Harry decided it was about time for a panic attack so he wasn't sure if he appreciated the loud interruption. Their was a sharp crack in the air beside him and a small feathered object pummeled into him at full speed, knocking him to the ground. Unfortunately, he was still holding the newspaper so there was nothing to keep the edge of the nightstand from striking his head on his way down.

As darkness claimed him, Harry couldn't hold back his disappointment at not being able to throw an epic tantrum.

*******

Note: I know the date is off but I couldn't bring myself to make Harry so old so fast. It really doesn't matter much since I'm being picky about what Spn stuff to include but don't worry, Sam going to college still happened but Dean just came along a lot sooner. I'll be happy to answer questions. Thanks very much for reading!