Aaaaaand guess who's back! I wasn't gone for long this time, was I?

By the way, for SOME STRANGE REASON people seem to like this story better than my other HP/Spn crossover. I'm flattered, guys, I really am, but I do wonder. I myself consider Vessel to be better (or that could just be because I have a much more detailed plot laid out, but still). I'm not saying - I'm not even considering - abandoning this one, but please take a look at Vessel as well if you haven't already!

Many grateful thanks to white collar black wolf, Child of Music and Imagination, Zaidee, Shebajay, Akayuki Novak, PrincessAnime8, PandasWearGlasses, godess bubbles, SaiyukiLover232, Von, Guest, Kittens Kat, and lunaz for your marvelous reviews! More today, please (not so hint hint)?

And now, on with the show!

"He's hiding something," said Bobby firmly, taking a sip of his coffee.

Dean toyed with his pistol and pretended to examine it closely. He knew what Bobby said was true. He'd known ever since he'd seen Harry, still clutching Sam in the yard. Harry had looked far too white-faced and traumatized for a boy who had seen a simple accident.

"He looked pretty scared," Bobby pushed.

Dean stuffed the gun into the back of his pants.

"All right, Bobby," he said tiredly. "I get what you're trying to tell me. I'll go talk to him."

He walked up the creaky wooden stairs, knowing full well that Harry was in the bathroom behind a closed and locked door. He'd been in there for about half an hour already, and to tell the truth, Dean was actually starting to feel worried about the kid.

He lifted his hand to knock, but paused. There was the muffled sound of crying drifting through the solid wood.

"Harry?" he called. "You in there?"

There was a short scuffle.

"D... Dean?"

Dean frowned.

"Yeah, it's me. What's the matter?"

He heard a faint sniffle

"Nothing," Harry replied, his voice still muffled. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"Don't give me that crap," snapped Dean irritably. "I'm coming in."

"No!"

But Dean had already snatched the key from above the door. He threw it open quickly.

Harry stood in the middle of the bathroom rug, looking very small and forlorn, his dark hair pressed against his forehead and tears slipping slowly down his cheeks. He was clutching his arm tightly, and to Dean's alarm, blood was seeping through his white fingers.

"What the hell!" Dean exclaimed, blood pounding in his ears, and he was suddenly terrified, as terrified as he would be if it had been Sammy.

He grabbed Harry's arm, but gently as he didn't know the extent of his injuries. Harry gave a cry of pain and tried to pull away. Dean eased his fingers away from the wound.

There were five, deep, jagged nail marks. From the tools and bandages that lay strewn over the counter, Harry must have been trying to fix it up himself. The blood had only just begun to clot, and in his haste, Harry had torn the beginnings of the scabs, reopening the wound.

"You're an idiot," said Dean, busying himself with alcohol and clean gauze pads. "Why didn't you just ask for help?"

Harry hissed and flinched as the stinging liquid burned his open flesh. He discretely rubbed away a tear and Dean pretended not to have seen.

"I didn't..." Harry started, and halted uncertainly.

"You didn't think!" Dean exploded.

Harry bit his lip, looking suddenly exactly as young as he was. Dean took a deep breath and forced himself to remain calm.

"You could have gotten an infection. Complications. Don't you ever do this again, Harry. Now what happened?"

"I fell and scratched myself," said Harry, his voice trembling.

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Sure. That's the oldest excuse in the book. Out with it. These are nail marks. Who attacked you?"

I'll kill it. But he didn't voice that thought out loud.

"I don't know."

"Come on."

"No, I don't," Harry insisted, sniffing and wiping his face carefully with his other sleeve. "It grabbed me and then I hurt my head so I don't remember anything until I woke up and Sam was hurt."

Dean looked at him suspiciously, trying to find some sign that he was lying, but he didn't know Harry's giveaways. He sighed, wrapping a final length of gauze around the ugly marks.

"All right, whatever. You're lucky nothing worse happened to you."

Harry sniffled again, wetly, and examined the bandage almost wonderingly.

"Thank you," he said, very quietly.

Dean remembered their – or really his, he realized now – earlier animosity and suddenly felt awkward.

"Forget it," he said gruffly, and hurried out.

Sam was all right. Harry was so relieved that he was happy just staring at Sam as the younger boy slept on the bunk beneath his own.

Sam had a twisted ankle and a small cut on the top of his head, but when all was said and done he was all right. Harry happily kept watching him.

Then, with a jolt, he remembered the man. Now that he thought back to it more carefully, the man hadn't really been a man, but a boy. Granted, an older boy, rather older than Dean, but certainly not near John Winchester's age. He suddenly felt profusely grateful towards him.

"Thanks, if you can hear me," he said, out loud. He half expected to see him pop in out of nowhere. "I couldn't have gotten Sam out of that without your help."

"It was nothing."

Badly startled, Harry spun around, tripping over his own legs and falling with a plop back onto Sam's bunk. He gaped at the apparition.

His self-proclaimed guardian was a boy. He had shock of dark hair and glittering blue eyes, and his face was impassive. He was rather tall for the teenager he was, but appeared to have grown a great deal recently as the cuffs of his pants brushed his ankles.

"You!" Harry exclaimed. "You're the one who... the one that... Why are you here?"

The boy looked puzzled.

"You were speaking to me," he stated, as if that explained everything.

"I... I didn't think you'd..." Harry spluttered. He waved his hands helplessly. "How did you get in here?"

"I flew," said the boy, poker-faced.

"You... flew?"

Harry wondered faintly if this was how people felt when they were about to have a heart attack.

"Yes."

He didn't offer any further explanations.

"How?"

Although the boy's face had up until then been mostly expressionless, he was beginning to look disgruntled.

"With my wings."

"You have wings?"

The boy didn't seem to find his echo worth answering, instead approaching him and taking his bandaged arm in his hands.

"You were injured."

"Yes. But," Harry added quickly, "I'm okay now. Dean took care of it."

"I can heal you instantly."

Harry pulled his arm back, holding onto the bandage almost protectively.

"No," he said, feeling rather foolish but very determined. "It's okay. I don't want you to. The bandage works. But you can fix Sam."

The boy looked puzzled again but vaguely tolerant.

"Very well."

He pressed two fingers to Sam's head. A golden glow seemed to flow through Sam's body and then wisp out. Sam made a small, sleepy sound and turned over. Harry was startled to see revulsion on the boy's face as he straightened.

"What's the matter?"

The boy blinked at him but didn't answer.

"What are you?" Harry asked.

He just received a small, stiff smile in return, and then he was alone again in the silence of the dark room with Sam slumbering peacefully beside him.

When Bobby checked the back of Sam's head that morning, he was surprised to find absolutely nothing. There wasn't a single scar or blemish where the cut had been the day before.

But Harry looked oddly knowing.

So I noticed that one of you guessed Balthazar. Really, really close! I was kinda sweating when I saw that review. Just a step away! I'm sure you all know who this mysterious personage is now. If you don't you can PM me, I guess, but I really think you should know.

Please review! I read every single one of your reviews and I'd be super grateful if you could pop even the smallest line... or lots of feedback if you have the time! Critical, complimentary, anything will do!

Anyway, thanks for reading!