I AM SO SORRY FOR HOW LONG IT HAS TAKEN ME TO UPDATE! REALLY! I AM! So, here's the chapter now, and I seriously hope you enjoy it! :D


Chapter XI: I Fight for You.

By the time Sam is going back to Hogwarts, where he'll stay until the Eater Holidays, which Sam has assured Dean he'll be home for, stating that he'll need a break from the school by then, Dean's firmly decided that Sam going back is definitely a good thing, and that trying to get in contact with Cas is definitely a bad thing.

The Boxing Day dinner was amazing in Dean's mind, and he still has no idea what he was fretting over; Jess is awesome and he knew that. He was just overreacting a little. But his brother couldn't stop smiling and laughing, and Dean didn't find himself thinking about how he's going to lose his brother to Jess, because the way Jess joked with Dean made him certain that she thought family was just as important as the Winchesters did.

Sam and Dean don't say anything about it, but there's definitely an unspoken agreement that this year's Christmas, for all the burnt food because Ellen entrusted the turkey to Bobby, who in turn forgot all about it, and that the only upside was the pie that Dean made himself, was definitely better than last years.

They know that now Dad is gone, the days of Christmases in sleazy and disgusting motels are long gone. They're always going to have a home to celebrate it in, whether it's at Bobby's or the day they get their own house, and they're always going to have each other to celebrate it with, which seems to settle something in both Sam and Dean; something they didn't even realise had been stirring.

So, with that realisation, he's more than happy to drive Sam back to the train station, more than happy to walk him to the train and wave goodbye to him as the scarlet train slowly pulls away, cloaking the platform is smoke and shielding the train from Dean's view, and by the time it clears, the train is gone.

As with Cas, he's definitely not going to try and contact him. Dean's been so busy fixing cars for Bobby; not using magic, not even paying that much attention to the magical world, seeing as all he does know is fix cars and sometimes cooks for the others, and he doesn't even read the Daily Prophet anymore, having cancelled his subscription the second he heard the Death Eaters took it over.

Sam is quick to catch him up to date, however, and he explains to Dean that not just are they using the Muggle-borns as testing subjects, they are also interrogating them, asking them how they got their magic and if they cannot prove they have a witch or a wizard somewhere in their family tree, they're getting thrown in Azkaban.

And that's what sealed Dean's thoughts. He can't try to get in contact with Cas, because he knows Cas, and even though he's hurt him, if Dean had to turn around and say he wanted to meet Cas, he'd come, no matter what. He'd come out of hiding just to see what Dean had to say and he's not about to put Cas in danger; he's done enough to him already. He knows he needs to do this for Cas.

He also knows it'll make Dean look like he doesn't care about him, but it's the exact opposite, he needs to make sure that Cas doesn't get caught and interrogated by the Ministry and Death Eaters and then thrown in Azkaban when he can't produce a magical ancestor.

He can't hurt him again.

Dean shakes his head and picks up the wrench from the toolbox lying beside him. He needs to just focus on fixing up this car. This is something he knows how to do; there's no second guessing when it comes to fixing a car, because it's second nature to him now. He doesn't need to think anything through, not really, he doesn't need to have sleepless nights trying to figure out what the best decision is.

Cars are simple, and he's got plenty of them sitting around, just waiting to be fixed. He's got a Ford with a weird sound coming from its engine, he's got a Dodge who's windows are stuck and won't budge, and he's got his Chevy Impala to fix up.

He's ashamed to look at her, every time he walks by the once pristine black form of his baby, and sees the dents he put in there; sees the tarp that cover the windows he shattered in a fit of rage.

Baby really should be his priority, and he wants her to take priority, but every single time he goes near her with a wrench or something that's heavy and metal in his hand, he gets the strongest urge to carve more dents into her body.

That's normally when he drops it, letting it clatter and clang as it hits the ground, before he turns and runs back to the workshop where the other cars are. He doesn't get the urge to destroy any of them more than they are already. He just gets the urge to fix them.

Maybe it says something about him; maybe it's trying to get him to realise that the person he needs to fix is himself, and the only thing stopping him is himself.

But he usually scoffs when that thought comes into his mind, and he reminds himself that he's not in a chick-flick; he doesn't overanalyse things, and he doesn't have a huge moment of revelation before everything slots itself into place.

He's in the real world, the same damn thing he told himself he needed to prepare for by practising Defensive spells.

Yeah right. He didn't need to know how to protect himself from Dark Magic… he needed to know how to protect himself from his worst enemy; he needed to know how to protect himself from himself.

~oOoOoOoOoOo~

He didn't really expect to get a letter from Sam. Hell, he didn't think he'd hear a single peep from his younger brother, let alone anyone, so maybe that's why it surprises him when he wakes up one morning and finds an owl perched on the ledge outside his bedroom window.

Dean grabs his wand on instinct; sure, it's just a defenceless owl, but who knows who could have followed it. He just needs to be sure; having the piece of his wood in his hand once again makes him feel whole once more, he's missed feeling the weight in his hand. It's like a piece of his arm had been hacked off, but now it was complete once more.

He slides the window open, raising his wand slightly when it hops inside and extends his leg towards him, revealing a small piece of parchment tied to its leg. Dean frowns but reaches out and unties it, letting out a shaky breath when the owl hoots and turns and flies away, meaning that it wasn't waiting for a reply or anything, and clearly wasn't waiting for someone to follow it.

Dean sets his wand down, deciding that there is no threat at all, and unfurls the piece of parchment in order to read the scrawl on the piece of parchment.

Dear Mr. Winchester,

We have tried to conduct an investigation into one Castiel Novak, born 18th September 1978, but we have been unable to locate him. It has come to our attention that you were the last Wizard to see the Muggle-born. It is vital that we carry out this investigation, if we wish to get to the bottom of these people who steal Magic.

If you could come to the Ministry of Magic, or send an owl back to me personally, we would be entirely grateful.

Please do not ignore this message, or their will be consequences.

Yours sincerely,

Madam Undersecretary, Dolores Jane Umbridge.

Dean frowns at the letter in his hand, his eyes darting between the words "Castiel Novak" and "Dolores Jane Umbridge", trying to understand what exactly is happening.

'The old boot,' he hisses, before he crumples the letter up, smashing it between his hands until it's creased and torn. He holds it in his hands, squeezing it with all his might as he tries to fight the boiling anger inside him.

The old cow that made him rewrite his mother's death report, as well as those of his grandfather and grandmother that he didn't even get to meet, for detention is writing to him, and asking him to give up the location of Cas.

Who the hell does she think she is? In fact, who the hell does she think Dean is? Why the hell does she think that he'd give up Cas' location… if he knew where he was, that is. Which he doesn't, and now he knows why he doesn't, because shit like this happens. He's thankful that he didn't even bother writing or calling Cas, because what if they came in and arrested him, took him to trial and shoved Veritaserum down his throat? He'd spill it out, whether he wanted to or not, and then Cas would be caught and thrown in Azkaban, all because of him.

But now that he doesn't know? He can march up to that old toad and tell her he doesn't know, and no matter what torture she inflicts on him, he would still be telling the truth. He wouldn't run the risk of endangering Cas.

'Who was the owl from?' A voice asks from his door, and Dean's head shoots up to find Jo leaning against the frame, arms crossed over her chest and her brown eyes narrowed slightly.

'Madam Undersecretary Dolores Jane Umbridge,' Dean answers, letting the sarcasm seep into his voice without even trying to fight. 'She's telling me to write back and let them know where Cas is so they can investigate him.'

He scoffs, unclenching his hand from around the letter and spreading it out. There's a tonne of creases but it's still legible, so he hands it to Jo to let her read it.

She steps into his room when he extends the letter to her, and she carefully takes it from his grasp, reading over the cursive scrawl that is surprisingly not written in pink ink.

'"People who steal Magic"? Has she finally went cuckoo?' Jo retorts, a grin pulling at her plump lips as she hands the letter back to Dean. 'Do you know where he is anyways?'

Dean's smile from her previous comment falls off his face. He turns away from her, shaking his head softly before he does. He walks over to the fire in his room and after only a brief moment of hesitation, he throws the parchment into the flames, watching as it darkens and curls in on itself as it burns.

'What happened with you guys?' Jo questions after a moment, and Dean sighs and turns back to her.

He shrugs, hoping that Jo will just drop it and leave him alone, but he should've known that she wouldn't do that. This is Jo he's talking about; the determined, pain-in-the-ass sister that he never really wanted, but loved nonetheless.

'Yeah, I'm not falling for that. You may be able to trick Sam with the whole "we drifted apart" shit, but not me. I saw the way you were with him. I know how determined you were to have him in your life, so man up and tell me what happened, otherwise I'm going to tell my mother you got a letter from the Ministry.'

Dean whips his head around to glare at her, his eyes narrowed as he studies her face.

'You aren't serious.'

'Oh, I am,' Jo grins as she crosses her arms back over her chest. 'I want to know what happened with you and Cas that caused him to take a different boat back across Lake on our last day of Hogwarts. I want to know why it's been so long and you still wince every single time his name comes up. I want to know Dean, and you are going to tell me, one way or another.'

Dean studies her for a few more minutes, unable to decide whether he can get away with just walking out the room, or shutting the door on her face, but then he remembers all those times that she's punched him and it's left the sorest bruise he's ever had.

Or those times that she's somehow managed to tackle him to the ground and keep him there, even though she was, what? 120 pounds… then again, she was 120 pounds of feisty determination. He's already established that in those conversations with Ash over who would win a fight between Angelina and Jo.

He sighs and moves over to sit on his bed again, his eyes flickering briefly to the letter that has nearly disappeared completely.

Jo takes a moment before she moves over and sits down beside him, bumping her shoulder into his with an encouraging grin on her plump lips.

'I'm your friend Dean, no matter what you tell me, I'm still going to be your friend; your sister.' She moves her hand so it's resting on Dean's knee, a comforting weight that seems to seep into Dean's bones and make it okay for him to finally get what's been eating away at him for so long off his chest.

'We kissed.' Dean says, before the rest of the words come out in a rush. 'On the night before we went home from Hogwarts on our last day, we were up on the roof and I don't know what happened, but we ended up kissing and… and…'

'And…?' Jo prompts, before a wide grin spreads onto her lips. 'You enjoyed it, didn't you? You did! I knew you fancied him! I bloody well knew it!'

'Will you shut it, Jo?' Dean snaps before he stands from his bed, storming over to the window where the owl had stood not that long ago. He runs a hand over her face as he feels tears sting his eyes. He is not going to fucking cry, that is just something he is not going to do!

'What do you expect? I kept telling Ash that you had something for Castiel, but he kept denying it. I'm just glad that I get to prove to Dr. Badass that I was right. Again.'

'Seriously? That's all you've got to say on the matter? I just told you that I kissed Cas, and your first instinct is the fact you were right?' Dean snaps, turning around to face his sister once more. He has more words on the tip of his tongue, but they die the second his eyes meet hers. There's something in those brown orbs that make Dean's shoulders slump, for his head to hang low and for a stray tear to fall down his cheek, leaving a wet trail.

'What do you want me to say, Dean?' Jo says softly, as she moves forward and cups his cheek with tenderness. She wipes away the tear and its trail with her thumb, smiling softly when he leans into the touch. 'That you shouldn't because he's a guy, and "man must lie with woman"? You know the bible was written by snotty old dicks, and anyone that believes that are a bunch of pretentious bastards.'

She chuckles along with Dean, though both of their laughs are short lived, dying on their lips a second later.

'I know you Dean. This isn't the first time you've kissed a guy, but it's the first time you've reacted like this. What's so different about Cas? It's not the fact he's got a dick, I know that for a fact… so tell me Dean, and don't hide behind your bullshit. Your dad isn't here, you don't need to be that man anymore.'

Dean's bites his lower lip, chewing it with his front teeth, and it isn't until Jo softly slaps the side of his head does he release it with a startled yelp.

'What?'

'You're bleeding, you idiot,' Jo declares and it's then Dean tastes the distinct metallic tang on his tongue, and he grimaces. 'You didn't even notice, did you?'

Jo's grin widens a little when Dean shakes his head, and she moves her hand so it's resting on his shoulder instead of cupping his cheek, finding the gesture far too intimate for now. There was once or twice they thought about it; nearly once they went all the way, but they realised it just wouldn't be right. They were meant to be brother and sister. But they were both relieved when they found out the other felt the same; halfway through unbuttoning each other's shirt, with their lips still attached to each other, they collapsed into giggles and decided not to do anything like that again.

'I'm scared,' Dean admits after a minute of silence. His eyes are still cast downwards, and he doesn't raise them to meet Jo's, not even as she squeezes his shoulder; encouraging him to go on.

'Of what? What has the mighty Dean Winchester got to be scared of? Did you try to go further than kissing and couldn't get it up? Is that what it was? Cause that happens to a lot of people, Dean, in fact I hear it happens to one-in-three men!'

'Why am I even talking to you?' Dean groans as he shrugs off her hand and goes back to sit on his bed again. He buries his head in his hands, not even bothering to lift it when he feels the bed dip beside him.

''Cause I'm the only one that's offering to talk to you? I've seen the way you look whenever you think the conversation could steer towards why you and Cas don't talk anymore. Sure, you look scared shitless, but you look hopeful. As if all you need is someone telling you that you're fucking stupid will make you work it out.' Jo grins. 'Tell me.'

There's a pause. Dean takes a deep breath in through his nose, and when he lowers his hands away from his face he lets it out in a sharp, shaky exhale.

'I think he was the one that started the kiss, and he went to unfasten my tie or pull me closer or something, and I don't know, I seemed to remember who I was kissing.'

'Yeah, it was Castiel Novak, the guy you've been crushing on ever since you laid eyes on him that first day of Fifth Year. Why the hell did you stop?'

'Because he's my best friend,' Dean snaps, ignoring the voice in his head that snaps "he was your best friend; he's not anymore". He shakes his head softly, running his hands through his short, blond hair. 'What if we kissed and we got together and it didn't work out? I'd lose him, Jo, and I can't lose him.'

'But Dean-'

Dean scoffs, 'Yeah, I fucking know! I've already lost him and I didn't even have the chance to see if we could've worked. You don't have to point it out, Jo, I already fucking know!'

Jo's soft chuckle seeps in through his rant, and when he looks up, he finds her shaking her head, pale blonde locks falling over her shoulder with the movement.

'That wasn't really what I was going to say… though it is a fair point. No. What I was going to say was, why wouldn't you two work out? You said it yourself, you were best friends. Do you know how rare it is to fall in love with your best friend? You've built the trust already; you know each other's secrets, you've been through everything together already that the only difference would be you'd share a bed and fuck. What would be so wrong about that? Why would that change a thing? To me, it'd be better, not worse.'

And with those words, Jo pats Dean's knee once more before she stands from the bed, walking out the room with the advice to "think about it", before disappearing completely.

~oOoOoOoOoOo~

He hums along to the song on the radio, finding it amazing that there's actually some decent music to listen to on the damn thing, instead of having to dig out his cassettes in order to have something good to work to.

There's something about this, humming along to classic rock as he fixes another car that makes him feel better. Sure, what would really make him feel better would having the war over, his brother home and Cas as his friend again - maybe even something more.

His talk with Jo definitely helped him realise just how fucking stupid he was for running away from Cas; leaving him on the roof without so much as an explanation why he needed to go. Maybe if he had stayed and talked it over, told Cas that he was just scared of losing him, then maybe he'd still have Cas in his life. Maybe he wouldn't be getting some stupid letter from the Ministry of Magic every week.

Those letters have grown from the soft, polite questioning tone to a more demanding tone, threatening imprisonment for interfering with an "official Ministry investigation". Dean still burns every single one of those letters when he gets them, watching them turn from white parchment to black crisp. He knows that one day, they're just going to lose their patience with sending him letters and they're going to send someone to arrest him; force him to London and to the Ministry itself and ask the questions they've been wanting an answer to.

But he's ready for them. He's been ready for them ever since Cas told him he was a Muggle-born and Dean realised his life would be in danger the second he stepped out of Hogwarts.

He wants to talk to his friend; wants to assure him that when it's all over, whether Voldemort wins or the "good" side wins, they're going to have a life together, whether they're just friends or something more, they're going to be in each other's lives, like they silently promised to do the first time the moment they became friends.

He needs to be patient, however, needs to realise that he can't just call Cas up, tell him that he fucked up big time and beg Cas to at least try and hear him out. That's his plan for when everything is over and the good guys have won.

It's a different story if it ends with the bad side winning, of course, because no doubt he will be dead. Cas will probably be dead too, but he has a feeling that even in death, he'd storm through all of Heaven, desperate to make Cas understand why he did what he did.

Happy ending or sad ending, Dean's determined to make things right.

~oOoOoOoOoOo~

'Bobby, am I good for a break?' Dean questions, throwing his spanner back into the toolbox after emerging from under a gorgeous Mustang that just needed a little tuning. He picks up the small rag of fabric before walking through to Bobby's office, cleaning his hands from the oil that covered them.

Bobby normally can hear him from his office, something that has always come back to bite him in the ass whenever he decides to sing along to a pop song that he normally says he hates. But now, he's not getting a single reply and it's a mixture of annoying and worrying. Bobby always replies; no matter what he's doing.

'Bobby?' He calls, sticking his head in through the office door, only to find it empty. Panic eats away at his chest, spreading through his whole body like wildfire. Why the hell isn't Bobby in his office? Where the hell is Bobby?

He throws the oil-stained rag onto the nearest surface, before he starts running towards the house that's honestly only held together by hope. He bursts in through the door, surveying the room with wide, frantic eyes, and when he hears noises coming from the kitchen, he slips his wand out of his jean's pocket and slowly makes his way to the room.

However, the second he can see it, he sees the familiar sight of Ellen preparing pie with help from Jo, who's cutting and slicing the apples.

They turn when they hear him step into the room, and his eyes land on Jo first, and he hates the way her eyes glitter with the knowledge of his secret. She hasn't told anyone, and hasn't even brought it up again, but she still knows and every time she looks at him, that's all he can see in those brown eyes.

'Dean? What's wrong, you look like you've seen a ghost, love.' Ellen says, sitting down the bowl with the pastry and taking a step over to him. He finds it amazing that despite the fact she's magic, she doesn't use it when she cooks or bakes. It reminds him of his mother; she never used her magic when it came to baking either. She never trusted it to get it right, she would say to him, as she let him like the batter of the cake mix off the spoon.

He always thought Ellen and Mary would get on well.

'Where's Bobby?' He asks instead, not even bothering to say anything to ease her concerns.

She cups his face, and he leans into the touch, sighing softly at the motherly touch. God bless Ellen Harvelle, he thinks.

'He's away to the store. I'm sure he told you.'

'He did. I was there.' Jo adds, and Dean can't help the frown that appears on his face. Bobby told Dean that he was heading out? Why can't Dean remember that? 'You must've been spacing… thinking of spending a night on the roof or something.'

Jo's eyes are dancing and sparkling with mischief when Dean's gaze meets them, but there's warmth under there too. She's not being mean, he reminds himself, she's being his annoying little sister, and with that knowledge, he rolls his eyes and shoves her on his way past as he leaves the kitchen.

'Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes, Dean! Don't do anything that won't take long!' Ellen's voice follows him from the kitchen, and he waves his hand over his shoulder to let her know that he's heard her.

He makes his way into his room, shutting the door behind him with a small sigh as he reclines his head against the wood. That night on the roof. He hadn't even been thinking about it when Bobby apparently told him he was leaving, he hadn't really been thinking about anything. But now that Jo had brought it up… it was all he could think about.

Cas.

How could he be so fucking stupid to walk away from him that night? He wanted to kiss him; he wanted to move closer to him, and now here he was, stuck in his room with no freaking idea where his (ex) best friend is.

He needs to see him again, someway or another, he needs to see his friend's face again. He can't really remember what he looks like. Whenever he thinks of him, it's blue eyes and dark tousled hair and soft pink lips. Though he doesn't try to think of those pink lips.

Dean's eyes fly open the second he remembers the photo they took together, once they had sat their final OWL exam. He should still have that somewhere.

He moves away from the door, heading over to his bedside chest of drawers, pulling open the third and last drawer where he keeps all his little memorial things; the photo of his mother, the photo of their family before everything went to hell, his letters from Cas that he's still not reread. Everything that's happy, and so too sad for him to look at gets put in this drawer.

He sifts through the parchment and other photos, hoping to find the one he's really looking for, but before he can get far, something burns his fingertip, and he pulls his hand out of the drawer with a gasp, his finger automatically going to his mouth to ease the burn.

His frown is deep when he extends his hand back into the drawer, moving everything out the way, carefully trying to find whatever the fuck burned him.

When he sees it, his eyes widen in understanding; the coin from Dumbledore's Army. Sure, it looks just like a normal Galleon, but Dean knows that a) he'd never put any money in this drawer, when they're as broke as they are, and b) that it's the only coin he owns that burns like that.

It usually burned when a new meeting was being held, the writing on the coin changing to show the date, but Dumbledore's Army has long been broken up. Why would anyone want to summon a meeting, when half the people have left and the leader was God-only-knows-where hiding from that fucker, Lord Voldemort.

His curiosity is too great to ignore, so Dean pulls the coin out, only to drop it a moment later with a gasp as he reads the words that have formed on the metal:

WAR AT HOGWARTS.


Sorry for the cliffhanger, but uh, yeah!

Review?

~Charlotte.x