The Eleventh Hour

Honestly, it was a genuine blunder.

But as much as he didn't intend to have finger painting spiral into utter chaos, he couldn't deny that the end result was brilliant.

It began as soon as they'd started painting. Harry had noticed that the already pitiful supply of paints was severely depleted (courtesy of those wasteful, window-painting crazies); it wouldn't be enough to last between the two of them. So, being the clever wizard he was, he'd mindlessly cast a slightly modified Refilling Charm on the small plastic containers which held the finger paints. At the time he'd brushed off the act as insignificant, synonymous with following rules.

(He would realize this glorious error soon.)

They'd settled into their respective works quietly, making broad strokes with their fingers. Harry had glanced over to his friend's paper, admiring the conglomeration of animals. "That's looking lovely."

"Truly?"

"I wouldn't lie to you, mate."

The angel had beamed at the praise, returning to his project with renewed vigor. In his enthusiasm, Castiel had accidentally knocked over a container... and watched in fascination as the blue paint continued to stream off the table, as if mimicking a waterfall of the same color.

"Uh, Harry..."

"What tricks are you up to now?" a screeching banshee descended upon them – no wait, that's not right – the Mad 'Pudding Thief' Woman had unexpectedly entered the Day Room, blond curls quivering. Bewildered and alarmed by her sudden appearance, Castiel nearly fell out of his chair in his hurry to get away from the finger she pointed in his direction. "Don't you think I forgot –" she had paused mid-sentence, spotting the impossibility that had occurred at their table. Her eyes had gained a crazed glint, and a disbelieving grin stretched her features. "I knew it! They told me it was a delusion... but I saw you vanish. And now!"

Abruptly, the Mad Banshee (no woman could reach such a vocal pitch) had turned on her heel and ran back out of the Day Room.

Now, a sane wizard would have immediately cancelled the charm and cleaned up the mess in a manner that wouldn't invite any more attention. But that would have been quite boring and... responsible. Just, no. Harry much preferred following the compulsions of his insanity. It had proved to be more interesting than the alternative, sane road.

So when the Mad Banshee had returned with a posse of equally mad residents of the ward, Harry had shivered and greeted them with wide, unrepentant arms.

"Come on then! I've faced dragons!"

(The ensuing battle would have finger-paints banned from the grounds.)

It had taken some quick thinking and heavy persuasion to stop Castiel from skittering off like a golden snitch, but Harry had managed to convince him that this conflict was most definitely not life-threatening – "Don't ruffle your feathers, it's just paint." – and that it would be much more fun to actively participate.

They had managed to overturn their table, where they were currently crouching behind. The others, newly christened Team Banshee, had stacked every available chair and couch into some odd fort (which was surprisingly more effective than their own shelter), garnering odd looks from the surrounding Reapers. He studiously ignored them and focused on more important matters.

Armed with nothing more than blue, yellow and black paint, Team Enchanted Feathers could hardly poke their heads out without a stream of paint headed their way. Subsequent method of attack? Throwing hail mary after hail mary and crossing their fingers in the hopes of striking some member of Team Banshee. It wasn't working out as well as they'd hoped, so Harry decided to risk a glance anyway – catching a glimpse of apathetic and disgruntled Reapers – before ducking back down from an incoming splash of purple and green.

All the while, he couldn't stop laughing.

During a brief respite, Harry took the opportunity to catch his breath. Turning to his faux brother-in-arms, Harry grinned at the dopey smile he found. Poking said 'brother' on the forehead, he boasted, "Enjoying yourself, hmm?"

Castiel nodded unashamedly, smudges of yellow and blue wrinkling along with his content expression. "Surprisingly, yes. This dissension is under the illusion of a grave conflict, but the others –"

"Team Banshee."

"– act in a manner which implies playfulness. It's odd, yet pleasant."

Immediately after he spoke, the Mad Banshee gave a perfectly ironic war cry. "Get the Vanishing Man! Destroy him!"

Renewed giggles spilled from Harry's throat, unchecked. "I-I don't, heh, don't t-think that sounds pleasant!"

The battle resumed with gusto, paint flinging across the room and splattering against every available surface. They continued this way, rather sublimely, until the staff happened to stroll past. With that, the battle came to an unfortunate end.

A flood of nurses stormed the Day Room, sedating any who refused to relent their colorful weapons.

(A discreetly cast 'Finite' ensured that the staff would be baffled by the sheer amount of multicolored paints which blanketed the room).

Seeing as Harry and Castiel accepted their fate more calmly than the rest, they were designated only one escort.

The stain.

Harry glared at its smug look, fighting a shiver. "Ruin our fun, will you?"

"Oh, don't be such a sourpuss," the demon cooed, pouting. It turned away, beckoning for them to follow it down the hall. Thankfully, it kept its mouth shut for the rest of the journey through the ward. Interestingly, the halls were crowded with Reapers – each one bowing their head as he passed, an outward show of respect that they hadn't displayed before. As he pondered their slight change in behavior, Harry nearly giggled at the sight of the stain slyly moving around a Reaper in the middle of the hall, attempting to make the move seem natural.

His good humor vanished, however, when they passed Castiel's room in favor of going further down the hall.

Where was that slimy demon taking them?

As if reading his mind – and isn't that a disconcerting thought – it spoke in an irritatingly offhand tone. "I'll be taking Clarence to Dr. Williams, so..." it stopped in front of Harry's room, gesturing for the wizard to enter.

"I don't think so," Harry deadpanned, eyes narrowed in suspicion. He was not insane enough to think that leaving his friend alone with that demon, for any length of time, was at all a good idea. That would be inviting trouble, a habit Harry had long since discarded. Swelling with the instinct to protect, he continued sharply, "Though it suits you, lies and deceit will not work on me."

It raised a brow, giving him considering look. "That's cute, but we really need to get going. Come on, Castiel."

"No," Harry growled, pulling his uncertain friend back to his side.

"Stop this, pretty boy."

Magic thrummed restlessly at his fingertips. Oh, the temptation... but no, bad wizard. Bad thoughts. Taking a deep breath, Harry opened his mouth to respond. Before he could, however, his senses flared.

Someone was coming.

Not a moment later, two bulky figures emerged from around the corner at the end of the hall.

Smithy and Jonesy the Giant!

"Hello boys," the demon drawled, smirking. Interesting... it seemed to know them, or at least have met them before, which didn't bode well for his general opinion of them. On the bright side, they appeared to be just as reluctant to interact with the stain, judging by the grimace on Smithy's face as they approached. The stain continued, "Took you two long enough. Did you stop to pull Timmy out of the well?"

Castiel turned to him, brow furrowed as he whispered a query. "Who is Timmy, and why was he in a well?"

"Don't know," Harry shrugged.

As the pair reached them, they greeted the demon grudgingly and shared a rather awkward reunion with Castiel. The angel either didn't notice or elected to ignore it, giving both men firm hugs. He was especially amused to see them occasionally glare at him. A brief sweep of their surface thoughts – agitation, distrust – revealed that they wanted him to go away or, in Smithy's case, to pummel him into the earth.

They stood in silence for a moment, when Smithy growled, "So, why is the douche that pulled one over on us here?"

The wizard grinned at the acknowledgement. "Surely you're still not sore about that, are you? Harmless fun."

"Fun," the short man smiled threateningly, hands curling into fists.

"Harmless," Jonesy deadpanned.

"Mr. Mortis was just leaving," the demon interjected, sending Harry a thin smile. "Weren't you, cream puff?"

His aggravation with that stain flared to life once more. Damning the consequences, he spat, "Go back to Hell."

(Everyone, excluding Castiel, seemed momentarily stunned by the wording. Delightful.)

"Am I going to have to sedate you?" the demon quickly retaliated, crossing its arms in smug triumph.

At the implied threat, every Reaper in the vicinity surged forward.

'Shock' didn't quite come close to describing the depth of his feelings.

"You shall not touch him," one out of many intoned dangerously, temperature falling unnaturally. They formed a barrier between Harry and, well, everything else. Including Castiel.

"Impossible..." the demon breathed.

"Meg?"

"What's going on?"

"The Reapers..."

"What?"

Under somewhat normal circumstances (a rare occasion in and of itself), he would have found joy in the sudden spark of fear he sensed from the demon, even the unease that Smithy and Jonesy were broadcasting. Truthfully, he basked in it for a moment. Nonetheless, while the Reapers' reaction was not entirely unwelcome, Harry really didn't trust the stain, or the pair of gruff boys, to quickly take advantage of it.

"Aw, I'm touched," he inclined his head grandly to the surrounding Reapers, speaking quickly. "So glad to know you lot, ah, care, but I've got to –"

"Master, it's time."

Immediately understanding what they meant, the green-eyed man groaned. Burying his head in his hands, a muffled, "Brilliant timing," was just barely audible. Sighing, Harry managed to peak around the Reapers – not standing tip-toed, mind you – and made eye contact with Castiel.

"You'll be alright?"

His friend nodded. "My friends can take care of me."

Masterfully concealing the hurt that declaration caused, Harry bit out, "I don't trust them."

"I do."

He stared at Castiel for a moment, gauging the sincerity behind those two damning words. After a moment he glanced back at the stain, noting its carefully reserved expression, and the boys (an odd mixture of wariness and uncertainty coloring their features). Well, intimidation was a tool he hadn't utilized in quite a while... "If something, anything, happens to him –"

"You'll sic these Reapers on us, got it," the demon waved him off, though it seemed much more cautious of him. Even Smithy and Jonesy seemed apprehensive, more so after the stain's statement, though Smithy appeared more livid than anything. Merlin, if looks could kill he'd be dead ten times over.

"We-ell," Harry mused, catching the angel's eye. "If worse comes to worst, I suppose you could always fly away."

Someone choked, but he paid it no mind.

"Certainly," Castiel assured him, a light smile touching his lips. "Unless another battle of paints requires my presence."

Chuckling, he nodded and reluctantly turned to face the Reapers.

"So, uh... time to meet my maker?"

Castiel, Meg, and the Winchesters watched as the odd, green-eyed man vanished from sight.

A/N: Hey, I got a new laptop. And I used it to write an extra-long chapter. Hurrah! But there are no guarantees that future chapters will be as long. Not hurrah.

In other news, I meant to clear up some confusion over what happened to Cas and Harry last chapter, but I couldn't find the right place to put it... since it'll probably not come up again, I'll just explain it here: they were not struck by lightning. Only Kevin has that awesome privilege (note the sarcasm). Nope, they were just wrecked by the sheer power released when the Winchesters opened up the tablet. On the show, it was powerful enough to unleash a thunderstorm (which struck Kevin with lightning), even to stir Cas out of his coma and who knows what else. To quote Sam, "We broke this thing open last night and every maternity ward in a five mile radius got slammed. Looks like any woman in their last month of pregnancy went into labor!"

Since, in my story, Cas has already been awakened by the time the Winchesters roll around, Cas and Harry's reaction to the tablet's unearthing was slightly different. The order of events is a bit different, and will continue to be, because of Harry's presence. If you'd like a list of events that've happened up until this point, just send me a pm and I'll provide it happily.

Also, in this chapter, Meg and the Winchesters wanted Harry to go away because they thought he was just a regular human – as annoying as they find him, Meg didn't want to deal with him and the Winchesters didn't want to involve a (relatively) innocent human. However, this line of thinking is dashed by the end of this chapter.

I hope my thought process isn't as convoluted as I think it is... if anyone still isn't sure what's going on, ask away. I'd be happy to answer, so long as it doesn't spoil anything in the future.

My apologies for the long note, but it was necessary. Until next time, lovely readers :)