Chapter 9: Managing Mistakes
Harry was halfway through freshman year when he decided he'd ask Sam and Dean if he could finally go on a hunt. I want to help out, and besides, I'm not a fucking little kid anymore. I can handle myself in a fight. He smirked slightly, thinking of how he'd managed to flip a particularly dumb and aggressive jerk of a jock over onto a picnic table when the knuckle-dragger decided to try and make a name for himself by picking on the new British kid. It hadn't hurt him-but definitely had marked to the other teen that Harvey Winchester wasn't one to be trifled with. Even if somehow it ends up where I can't use magic I still know how to defend myself, and all about different monsters. It's total bullshit that I can't do it. Hunting was the one thing that he'd been completely banned from from the time that Sam and Dean had made him a Winchester-he could learn and train in case of an emergency, but legitimate hunting was off-limits. If only I could prove that I can handle it…
Most recently the three were staying in a mountain town in northern California called Parson's Peak. It wasn't too different from many of the other places the Winchesters had been, and Harry was fairly used to the routine. Sam and Dean tried their best to not move more than once per quarter (sometimes longer than that if they could manage it), and for the moment Harry was attending Parson High. Harry was the new kid with a foreign accent, tattoo, and wiry-but still fit-physique, so naturally he'd been slotted into the upper half of the freshman year social standings. It always struck him funny how the same few things seemed to make people popular no matter what school he was at, I mean, as long as you have the right look and attitude popularity is a given. He certainly didn't try to be popular-given how vain and shallow a lot of the popular clique was-but he didn't hate being moderately well-off in his social standings. It probably helps I have contacts now, too. Harry had switched from glasses in middle school after it was shown to be a hazard in combat-not being able to see was a real risk, and the French benefit of not looking like a dweeb isn't bad either.
In any case, while he was at school Sam and Dean were investigating a series of disappearances. Over the last few weeks people had been randomly vanishing without a trace from around town, often in areas where someone should have heard or seen them get attacked. Harry was allowed to help with research, but it wasn't the same thing as actually going on the hunt once they figured out what was causing it. It was a chilly Thursday afternoon when he got back to the apartment they were renting and discovered that Sam had made a breakthrough. The tallest Winchester had a map of the town on the dining table and was marking in red marker a series of lines as he copied them from a much older map.
"What's with all the maps?" Harry asked, glancing over Sam's shoulder, trying to decipher what Sam was doing.
"Braniac thinks he might have an idea, but won't say it until he's sure it checks out." Dean replied, taking a sip from a coffee mug.
Sam scowled slightly, looking up, "I want to make sure my idea is right before I lead us on some wild goose chase." He leveled a glare at Dean, "After all, I don't want to have to, I don't know, wade through ankle deep sewage without cause." Sam was, of course, referring to a hunt where Dean had suspected vampires were using a sewage system to hide and stalk victims. They'd actually been using the human sister of one of the vampires to do their bidding and get new blood.
Dean rolled his eyes as he set down the mug, "That was one time." He held up a finger and sighed, "I said I was sorry."
Sam huffed, but conceded he wasn't going to continue holding a ruined pair of boots against Dean. "Fine, take a look." He gestured the other two over, "I think it might be using the old mine tunnels under the town." He pointed at the map. "Most of the places where people disappeared are near old entrances. Pop out and grab a quick bite to eat, then return back underground."
"So, what do you think it is?" Harry asked.
"Honestly, it's hard to say. There's no trace of the victims left behind, so it must be pretty fucking smart, but if I had to put money on it I'd say a wendigo." Dean said as he looked at the markings on the map.
"A wendigo? Wouldn't there be a cycle then, disappearances every few years in a cluster?" Harry asked, thinking back to the note cards he'd memorized with Sam and Dean.
"Normally, but since the town records burned down in the 90s there really isn't much evidence to look through."Sam replied.
"I guess that means we're gonna have to interview some locals." Dean remarked, which means we'll have to track down some old coots and try to get them to talk. Fan-fucking-tastic.
***SPN-HP***
"Well, it looks like you were right." Sam said as he hung up his jacket and turned to Dean, "Disappearances about every 32 years. Looks like we've got a wendigo." The brothers had returned from their latest round of interviews, Sam had been talking to a few men at the local diner while Dean had interviewed some people from the historical society. They'd been asking around, and while some of the locals were a bit cagey answering questions, most were reassured when they explained it wasn't for a news story-just a book on local history.
"We got enough flares?" Dean asked off-hand as he started rooting through his bag to check the flashlights and headlamps were all working.
"Not sure." Sam replied, "Harry, would you mind checking the trunk?"
Harry looked up from the book he'd been reading, he'd recently been doing some research of his own for a few new spells to try with Sam, "Yeah. Back in a minute." He marked the page and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. But instead of walking down the hall to go to the stairs that led out to the parking lot he hovered by the door a moment, muttering a spell as he flicked his wand, then held it up to his ear. Sam and Dean's voices were clearly heard, even as he did start walking down the hall. Sam's got to start remembering to use the imperturbable charm… He smiled as he went to the car, listening closely to what they said.
A few seconds after the door shut and Harry's footsteps started down the hall he heard them start talking again, "Why do you always do that?"
"Do what?" Sam replied.
"Make him leave when we start planning stuff."
Even without the visuals Harry knew Sam's bitchface silence, "Because I don't want him to get any ideas. We both know he wants to start hunting, if he isn't around to hear about all the specifics, maybe he'll lose interest."
"I guess…" Dean said, sounding unsure. "Anyway, when we go and gank this bastard, I guess you'll be using incendio?"
"Either that or Lacarnum Inflamari, but that one's a bit more… difficult. I'm not really comfortable using it, given how easy it is to misaim." Sam replied. "Do you think we should call Cas? Wendigoes aren't exactly a cake-walk."
Dean sighed, "No, he's busy right now with stuff in heaven."
Even though Harry wasn't in the room he knew Dean was feeling at least slightly bitter about Cas' new role in heaven taking up so much of his time. With the "restructuring" going on Cas was busy making sure things were transitioning smoothly. The last few months had him staying in heaven almost constantly and left Dean neglected on earth. While Dean understood it was important, he still was a bit miffed that his boyfriend was busy all the time. By the time Harry got to the Impala he was out of range, unfortunately subausculto only works so far, but he didn't suspect there was much more significant he needed to hear. After checking the trunk and counting the flares he returned to the apartment, where Sam and Dean were finishing their hastily discussed plan.
As soon as he opened the door it was evident that the two had stopped their conversation, the slight murmur of voices from the hall having stopped as he pushed open the door. Fuck it, nothing's going to change if I don't at least try… "There were eight flares, more than enough."
"Good." Sam said as he took the folded up plan and stuck it in his jacket pocket.
Harry exhaled, "Maybe you guys could use some extra help? I know wendigoes are a royal pain, and since Bobby and Cas aren't here…" He shifted his weight slightly as he scuffed his foot on the floor.
"No." Dean replied firmly.
Harry frowned, "Why not? You've been training me for the last four years, plus, I don't know, I'm fucking magical… Besides, you and Sam hunted way younger than I am."
Dean and Sam exchanged a quick glance before Dean responded, "We're training you to keep you safe in case anything comes after you. Same with magic. You know how many assholes are gunning for us, and you're not going into the firing line."
"We were hunting earlier than you because our dad thought it was the best for us, whether it was or wasn't, doesn't matter." It clearly wasn't. "We're doing what we think is best for you-keeping you safe and out of harm's way." Sam added.
"I can handle it! I'm not just a little kid!" Harry started raising his voice, "I don't know why you train me and make me practice if I'm never going to use it! I just want to help! Is that too fucking much to ask?!"
"We're trying to keep you safe!" Dean replied, his voice also rising to match Harry's volume.
"Yeah! By keeping me locked up tight and never letting me do anything besides research!" Harry started growing red.
"We're trying to give you a normal life!" Sam replied, "Neither of us got that chance, and we're trying to make sure you turn out normal!"
"Normal?!" Harry scoffed, "No one in this family is fucking normal!" Harry could feel his fingers digging into his palm.
"That's it! You're grounded!"
Harry blinked. Both brothers had said it at the same time, then quickly done a double take as they looked at the other. The room had suddenly fell silent, even though Harry's ears were still ringing.
"That's right, you're grounded." Sam said, his voice coming back to normal. "After training you're not leaving this apartment for the next week."
"What?!" Harry spat in disbelief. Before he scowled and replied, "Fine. Won't be much different than normal anyways." He skulked to his room as he muttered about never being allowed to hunt before loudly slamming the door.
Dean winced as the door slammed, a feeling of guilt clawing at his chest. When he turned he saw Sam bearing a similar countenance. Neither had wanted it to happen, but we have to keep Harry safe. Right?