CONTENT WARNING: This chapter deals with and discusses both suicide AND feelings of worthlessness/ not wanting to live anymore. If this will hurt YOUR mental health, please do not read.
Love, Fate and Prophecy: Bloodright
Part Four: Chapter Seventeen – Bloodright
Season 6 Episode 18 (Frontierland)
"Well, if it ain't Sleeping Beauty," Dean said when Harry finally made an appearance in Bobby's kitchen. Harry rubbed his head sheepishly.
"What time is it?"
"Half-past eleven," Sam said. "We checked on you, but you were out. Everything alright?"
"Uh, yeah. Haven't slept like that in ages. There any tea?"
"Yeah – I brewed some when I heard you stirring," Dean handed Harry a steaming hot cup. The teabag still in. Harry was suspicious – he didn't think that Dean had ever made him a cup of tea. He took a sip and did his best not to gag. It was horrible.
"Sugar and milk, right?" Dean asked. "Is it alright?"
Harry smiled politely. "Great." He took another sip, once again hiding his grimace.
"Uh – there's some breakfast here too," Sam said.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, breakfast burritos."
"You drive into town for these?" Harry asked as he sat down at the table.
"Uh huh, trust me, you wouldn't want Dean making anything," Sam said.
"Hey!"
"It can't be anything he didn't already know."
Harry unwrapped the burrito, which was a little cold, but still one of his favorites. He didn't know how he managed to live so much of his life without Mexican food.
"So, uh, did you sleep alright?" Sam asked.
Harry put the burrito down. "Didn't you already ask me that?"
Sam shrugged. "You know, I don't even know…do wizards dream?"
"Yes," Harry said shortly. He was not in a good mood and that was a particularly stupid question.
"Did you…uh…have any weird dreams last night?"
Sam and Dean watched Harry's face closely as he took another bite of his breakfast.
"No. What's going on here?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Dean said much too quickly.
Harry's eyes narrowed. "Why are you two being so nice to me?"
"We're always nice," Dean said.
Harry snorted. "Did something happen?"
Dean and Sam shared a look. It took everything in Harry not to roll his eyes. They had to make it hard for him to pretend not to know anything.
"No. Dean and I had weird dreams last night, is all. Did you have any weird dreams?"
"Did Bobby and Ellen also have weird dreams? Is there some sort of monster that can cause everyone to have strange dreams?"
"No," Dean said at the same time that Sam said, "Yes."
Sam cleared his throat. "There are Djinn, and they…"
"Yeah, I know what a Djinn is. Did you get attacked by one last night?"
"Oh. No."
"I think that there is something off with you then, mates." Harry decided, three bites in, that he was done with this burrito. He didn't have an appetite. "Is this about Rufus? I know you were close…"
"Uh, yeah, we were. As close as anyone was to Rufus. But that's not it. Harry, are you still wearing a glamour?" Sam finally realized that their line of questioning was going to make Harry suspicious so he changed the subject.
"Can't you tell?" Harry challenged. He was genuinely curious. Because of the events of the last couple of days, he hadn't had a chance to fully process the fact that Sam could tell he was wearing one. He knew that his younger brother's mind was strong, but to be able to see through a disguise, especially one that he put up, suggested that there might be something else there.
"Um, maybe? I think it's still up."
Harry nodded. "It is."
"Remove it," Dean ordered.
"Why?" Harry shot back.
"'Cause it's creepy, that's why. What are you hiding?"
"I think," Sam said, shooting Dean a dirty look, "what Dean is trying to say is that we're concerned about you."
Harry looked to Dean for confirmation. He nodded.
"Oh. I'm fine."
"If you're fine, why are you hiding your face?" Dean asked, tactful as always.
Harry sighed. "It's a force of habit, more than anything. In the past, I've made a lot of public appearances, and after a couple of headlines of how tired I was looking, I started wearing glamours to hide it." This was a lie. Magical photography was disrupted by glamours so everyone would always know if someone was wearing one. Touchups happened after the photo was processed. Harry just didn't want any comments on his appearance. It was a damn shame that Sam was able to see through it.
"There's no paparazzi here, you can take it down," Dean insisted.
"You're not going to leave me alone until I do, are you?" Harry asked.
"Nope."
"Fine. I'm going out," Harry said, his fuse short. It was bad enough that he just lost his family and now had to pretend that he did not. Whatever form of forced sleep that Gabriel had put him in was not restful and he was exhausted. The last thing he needed was overprotective brothers butting into what he looked like. He stood up.
"Woah, wait," Sam said. "Where are you going? At least finish your breakfast."
Harry glared. "A bar. You can have it, I'm not hungry," he flew off.
"Son of a bitch," Dean said.
"Maybe if you hadn't pushed him…"
"Shut up. He's not a child, even though he's acting like one." Dean went to go get his jacket.
"What are you doing?" Sam asked.
"I'm gonna go find him."
"He could be anywhere. Like in the world," Sam tried to reason with Dean.
Dean huffed. "I don't know what's going on with him. It's not like he remembers what happened. He didn't just lose Dad again."
"Dean, he wasn't great even before the alternative timeline. You know him better than I do – when did you first notice that he seemed off?"
"Are the two of you on about me again?" Bobby asked as he walked into the kitchen, having been outside tinkering on cars all morning. "I have a wife, you know. I don't need two more."
"Not you, Bobby," Sam said. "Harry."
"Ah. Yeah, I was wondering when you two boneheads were going to notice."
"Notice what?" Dean asked.
"The boy doesn't sleep. Or eat. There always seems to be a fire that he's trying to put out – either here or back with his people. He's good at hiding it. It's no wonder Death wanted you to watch over him."
"Death asked you to watch over Harry?" Sam asked, very confused.
"Yeah. While you were in your soul-coma. He had been training with Gabriel and had been dying and resurrecting himself over and over again and Death was not amused. I wasn't either, for that matter."
Sam shook his head. "I vaguely remember you saying that I was welcome to shoot him again around when I first woke up. I didn't know that you had specifically been assigned to keep him alive. Dean, is he suicidal?"
Dean snorted. "No, he's dramatic. Like you. Must be something with younger brothers. And he has a penchant for not sleeping or eating enough. Or, at least, that's what Death thinks."
Sam's look of concern did not clear over that.
"Look, I hung around the guy for a whole year. You can see what he's like – nothing sticks to him. Sometimes he gets into a mood, but it never lasts for a long time. Dude's just good at shaking off the bad stuff, you know? Yeah, he just stomped off, but he'll be back in a couple of hours, right as rain again."
Sam couldn't help but wonder if Harry was just very good at hiding what he was feeling. But he also knew that it was unlikely that he was going to convince Dean otherwise, as his eldest brother thought himself the Winchester expert on Harry. What they had experienced in the Titanic-less timeline was beginning to fade in his mind – much like an actual dream, but that Sam had known that Harry very well and he knew that sometimes was wrong.
"Yeah, alright. But if he's not back in a couple of hours…"
"Yeah, yeah, we'll bring out the big guns."
xXxXxXxXxXx
Harry hadn't been discriminating in the town that he picked a bar in. He wanted away from his brothers but couldn't bear the thought of seeing any of his friends and family in England. Having his kids taken away from him was one thing – but he had seen the life that Ginny could have had. The life his best friends could have had. One where he wasn't a barely-functioning alcoholic, but a stable partner and friend. Someone who could be depended on. Not the useless burden that regularly needed to be scraped off the floor of various seedy establishments.
And to think that if his stubborn pride hadn't gotten in the way that John…no…he couldn't even let himself go down that path.
"Another, please," he said to the bartender.
"Sir – you don't appear drunk yet, but this is your fourth double. Are you sure that's a good idea?"
Harry looked at the woman's nametag – it read 'Adrienne.'
"Adrienne, that's your name, right?" He asked, forcing a charming smile on his face.
"Yes."
He pulled out his wallet. Or rather, he conjured it, but there was no way for this woman to know that. From inside he pulled out five-hundred-dollar bills and laid them out on the bar in front of him. "Well, Adrienne, you see this money?" He asked.
"Sir, yes, but…"
"We'll start with what you see here. If you keep my drink filled and don't make any comments, I will double this when I leave. If I get disorderly, you, of course, have permission to cut me off or kick me out, you'll still get the next half. But I assure you that I will not. Is this agreeable to you?"
"Yes, sir," she responded, eyes wide.
"Thank you."
She took the money that he had already laid out and promptly filled his glass. Mercifully, she left without a word.
He got about two more doubles in before someone saddled up next to him at the bar.
"You know," Harry said, "I was wondering if you were going to come to find me or if I was going to have to hunt you down."
"I'm just sorry that I didn't get here earlier, seems like you have quite the head start," Gabriel responded. "Excuse me, lovely lady," he said to the bartender. "Pina Colada, please. You can put it on his tab," he indicated to Harry. Adrienne looked to Harry, who nodded his approval.
"Is this a secure enough spot to talk?" Harry asked.
"I already put up every kind of ward I could think of as I walked in, short of pulling us into another reality, so yeah."
Adrienne brought the drink over to Gabriel, who winked at her.
"You going to explain why I have to live with these memories? Also, don't think that this has distracted me enough not to remember that you owe me a spell."
Gabriel took a deep breath.
"What?"
"About that spell…"
"What about it?"
"I told you it was dangerous, right?"
"Yeah. To me. But if it means that we kill this monster, then, well, no one here would really miss me. If it weren't for the fact that I am trying to keep Sam and Dean safe, I might just call Death now and go."
"Don't say that," Gabriel said harshly.
"What do you care? You've tried to kill me before. You're an archangel, for Merlin's sake, and even you think that this world would be better off without me. Look, I'm not going to…off myself or anything…but if I can go down fighting the fight, I will have done basically all that I'm good for."
"That's Dumbledore talking," Gabriel said.
Harry finished his drink. "What do you know about Dumbledore? He was a great man."
"He raised you to sacrifice yourself."
"'For the Greater Good,'" Harry quoted. "Honestly, I've always thought he was right. I should have fulfilled my purpose and then moved on. It's not like you did any differently with that weapon you gave me."
To Harry's surprise, Gabriel actually looked ashamed.
"Yeah, I'm a grade-A douchebag. I promised you the truth. And I meant it. Are you ready?"
Harry raised an eyebrow. Gabriel took that as a yes.
"When my garrison fell, when wizards were created, it was meant to bring balance. A counter to Lucifer's demons. The natural order was restored. At first, wizards were immortal, just like angels and demons, but unlike demons, wizards bred. Death felt that there were too many immortals on Earth and that they should be his to reap. My Father disagreed, there was a war, many died, but, in the end, they struck a deal."
"I know this already," Harry snapped. "Castiel told me. That one of us would rise above the others and become the 'Angel of Death.' And that wizard would become immortal and defeat the enemies of man. And I've told you, I have no desire to become immortal. Or an angel. You're all a bunch of twats."
"Castiel is an idiot who didn't tell you the whole story."
"Oh?" Harry was certainly interested.
"He might not have known when he told you that story, but he certainly has learned since. If you were to ascend, you would need to do it by defeating a monster of God's own creation. It must be a monster that has the power to destroy all of humanity. That act, presumably, would remove the threat of all such monsters and when done with the proper spell, would destroy all demons on Earth and seal the Gates of Hell."
"That doesn't sound like a bad thing." It honestly sounded perfect to Harry. He might die in the process, but then Sam and Dean would be safe. Forever.
"It would be a disaster," Gabriel said intensely, slamming his fist down on the table. "Because if there are no more demons, there is no more need for wizards."
"What do you mean?"
"As soon as a wizard ascends, that is the beginning of the end of all magickind. The end of the bloodright of the descendants of my fallen garrison. It may not be noticeable at first, but magic will start to fade. First, no more witches or wizards will be born – all children born of wizarding descent will be squibs. It will take a little more time, but witches and wizards will get weaker. It might take a generation, even two, but lifespans will get closer and closer to those of muggles. And eventually, all those that could use magic will die and magic will die with them."
Harry felt sick. "What will happen to our spaces? The villages? The cities? The magical creatures?"
"They'll all die out. The wards will crumble – I imagine there will be a certain amount of chaos as muggles discover the world that was just under their noses."
"That…that would have had been good information for me to have." Harry felt a rush of rage. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't Death?"
"I, of course, can't speak for Death," Gabriel shuddered a little at the thought, "but I presume that the natural order is what is most important to him. The path to becoming the Angel of Death is based very much one of intent. You cannot get on the path by wanting to be."
"Alright. That's Death. You though – you've known. I thought we were friends, Gabriel. Sure, you're a dickwad, but…"
"We are friends," Gabriel said emphatically, interrupting him. "That's why I'm here now. Look, I won't lie, not anymore. My intentions weren't what anyone would call pure. Firstly, because you are one sexy man, Harry Potter, I'd like nothing more than to," the glare on Harry's face made him stop short. "You know. But you're so annoyingly attached to the beautiful Ginevra. Until this nonsense with Castiel, I was plotting your demise."
"You already told me about the lance."
Gabriel winced. "Yeah. That was the first time. You are not the first Master of Death, Harry, but you are the only one that I have been concerned about. And you are the first ever to make it to the second step. The not-quite Angel of Death."
Harry snorted. "You come up with that name yourself?"
"Absolutely not. That had to have been Metatron, that angel was an idiot. But Dad put him in charge of transcribing the tablets and gave him too much artistic license with naming things. You know, it doesn't matter. I would have preferred it be many, many more steps, but you know the Heavenly Father, he loved his threes." Gabriel raised his glass in a mock salute.
"The spell," Harry said, realizing Gabriel's latest attempt. "The one to kill Eve. It would kill me."
Gabriel finished his drink. "Yep. Entering Heaven is the only way to make it work. No loopholes, no ways around it."
"And since all wizards at least start in Heaven when they die…"
"Uh huh. You know, I don't think I gave you enough credit. I always assume that Gryffindors are all brawn and no brains, just like their founder."
"You've met Hermione."
"That was a mistake. Look, that hat is super old, it's bound to make mistakes every century or so."
"And it's the only way?"
"No. It's not. It's not even the only spell."
"Ah." This news should have infuriated Harry, he knew that. But he was too weary to be angry. Of the bad things that had happened to him in the last week, this didn't even crack the top five. There was one thing that was bothering him, though. "And what does Castiel have to do with all of this? You two were working together to what, kill me?"
"No. Castiel would like nothing more than for you to ascend. It would get you out of the way on Earth and might help him with his problems in Heaven. There's also the bonus of further protection of his two little pets. It's win-win for him. Raphael is the one that wants you dead. But it's less personal with him, and more like he's trying to get the world back onto Dad's master plan."
"I thought you were working with Castiel."
"I was working with both of them. Am still, I suppose. I don't care about the war in Heaven. Until two days ago, I just wanted to be sure that you didn't ascend."
"And what happened two days ago?" Harry was finishing what he thought must be his tenth drink. He didn't feel a damn thing.
He had gotten a new perspective on how things could have been. But that's not what he was going to tell Harry. (Mostly because he wasn't ready to admit it to himself.) "Castiel got out of hand. He thought that he could pull one over on me. I don't know exactly what his plan is, but I sure as hell know that it had something to do with having access to 50,000 more souls. I would have been fine with that if he had left that timeline in place. It was perfect. See, I've grown fond of you Harry. More than I even realized. Other issues aside, that timeline was a perfect solution. You weren't carrying the Elder Wand. You were Master of Death in name only. And you were happy. I would get to keep my friend and my people."
Against his better judgment, Harry believed Gabriel. "You're an arsehole," Harry commented.
"Yes, I am. But a damn cute one. Look, feel free to tell me to fuck off. But I told you this morning that I was on no one's side but my own. That was my last lie to you. I'm on your side. If you'll have me."
Harry sighed. Was working with Gabriel the right thing to do? His gut said yes. "Alright, well, we can keep being a team, but I have three conditions."
"Taking a page out of Dad's playbook, I got you. What are they?"
"First, if we are on the same side, we have the same priorities. I've fucked up too much to be of any use to my wizarding family," Gabriel looked like he was going to argue, but a look from Harry silenced him. "That means that we will protect Sam and Dean. If Castiel turns on them, they are going to need both of us."
"Protect the apes, got it," Gabriel said.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Second, you will give me that spell."
"Harry…"
"No. We'll look for other ways, but I need that as a backup."
"It's suicide."
"It's sacrifice."
"Same thing."
The two of them glared at each other for a second.
"Fine, I can't deny that adorable face anything."
Harry ignored the flirtation, as always. "Lastly, and this part is very important."
"I'm listening."
"You like the finer things in life," Harry said.
"I've been known to imbibe from time to time."
"I've seen you drink."
"Not as much as you, but yes."
"I've seen you tipsy. Drunk, even."
"Guilty. But what does…"
"Ever since I became not-quite Angel of Death, it has taken entire bar's stocks of alcohol to get me even woozy. Which is impractical because I have to keep confounding the bartenders to keep serving me. I believe this is an angel problem. I want to be soused. Properly pissed. Show me your ways." Harry didn't want to feel anything.
Gabriel grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."
xXxXxXxXxXx
"I'm just saying, Dean, it's been hours and we haven't heard anything at all. He's not answering his phone or his mirror. I think it might be time to contact his friend…"
There was a loud crash outside.
Bobby met Sam and Dean in the main hallway as the door swung wide open. In tumbled Gabriel and Harry.
Sam rushed to help Harry up off the floor. "Are you ok? Did he hurt you?"
"Who? Gabe? No, Gabe couldn't hurt even…he couldn't hurt…well, it's not that he couldn't, but he wouldn't…"
"Are you drunk?" Bobby asked, astonished.
Harry looked guilty.
"I have finally taught my young protégé everything that I can," Gabriel swopped in, announcing this with great pride. "And, now, I will leave him with you – his loving family – "
"No," Harry said. "Gabe…you promised."
"You weren't serious, were you?"
"Deadly." Harry giggled a little. "You know who we should take with us next time? Death. Maybe that'd make him I dunno…less Deathy."
Sam and Dean looked at each other, wide-eyed. They had never seen Harry like this before. (Well, not that they remembered – Dean had always been equally drunk and often forgot the details of their nights out together.)
"Alright there, buddy, how about we get you…" Dean started, only to be interrupted.
"Nope! Gabe, you said you would. I'm not too drunk to remember. You do what we talked about."
Gabriel gave a dramatic sigh. "Fine, fine. Sam, Dean, I would like to apologize."
"Apologize?" Sam asked incredulously.
"Yes."
"Gabe…" Harry said warningly.
"What? You said I had to apologize and I did." Another glare. "Whatever. I'm sorry that I tortured Sam by killing Dean over and over again. Sometimes the deaths were funny, but I did run out of ideas and sometimes they were just mean."
"And…" Harry prompted.
"But the other part was funny, come on!"
"You promised!"
"I'm sorry that, while just trying to teach them a valuable lesson, that I," Gabriel pulled a piece of paper out of thin air and started reading from it. "Trapped Sam and Dean in TV shows, resulting in Sam getting punched in the nuts, making Sam say that he had herpes, turning Sam into a car, and ruining Dr. Sexy, MD, for Dean."
"Good. You can go now," Harry dismissed him.
Gabriel gave an overly exaggerated bow and vanished.
"He didn't ruin Dr. Sexy for me," Dean said, confused.
"Dean, focus," Sam said, looking pissed off. "What the hell was that about, Harry?"
"I told Gabe that if he wanted to stay friends with me that he had to apologize to you two for all the terrible things that he did," Harry said matter-of-factly. "Did he leave anything off?"
"You're calling him Gabe now?" Dean asked. "And since when are you friends?"
"Since he told me about his plots to kill me. Oh, and removed that pesky secrecy spell that he put on me – he's the one who gave me the lance to kill Michael. He thought that ascending to not-quite Angel of Death was impossible and that trying would kill me. Joke was on him. And the world. Look at me, still alive. The Boy Who Won't Fucking Die."
Harry reached into his robes for a flask – he was beginning to feel the drunk wear off, and he did not want that. As soon as he did, however, Bobby snatched it out of his hands.
"I think you've had quite enough," he said.
Harry summoned the flask back into his hand. This time, Sam grabbed it before he could take a drink.
Dean crossed his arms. "We're going to need you to explain what the hell you just said."
Harry pouted. And summoned the flask again. This time he flew to the other side of the room so that he could down it before anyone else could take it from him.
"Harry…we're very worried about you. Could you maybe…stop drinking and talk to us," Sam said, genuine concern written all over his face.
Harry was going to crack a joke, but he could see just how serious his younger brother was and was overcome with guilt. He was screwing up again – worrying his family when he should be helping them.
"Ok," he said. He sat down at the table.
Dean looked to Sam and mouthed, "How the hell did you do that?" Sam shrugged. Dean silently poured a cup of coffee and placed it in front of Harry as he sat at the table.
"Drink that, you need it," he said, gruffly.
Harry looked down at the cup of coffee and all of a sudden, the thought of trying to put anything else in his stomach seemed like a very bad idea.
"Uh – Harry, you're lookin' a little green there, son," Bobby said.
"I feel a little…oh no…" Harry got up abruptly and flew into the bathroom.
"Not again!" Dean cried out after Harry disappeared. "Where'd he go?"
There was a loud retching sound coming from the bathroom.
"I think that answers your question," Bobby said. "At least he had the good sense not to vomit all over my kitchen."
They all sat and waited until the sound stopped. "I'll…I'll just go check on him then," Sam said.
Dean ran his hand through his hair. "What the hell are we going to do with him, Bobby?"
"We're gonna watch out for him," Bobby replied. "Are you sure that Cas wiped his mind? He seems like a grieving man to me. A fool of one to go out drinking with an archangel, but somethin' happened to him. I think it's more than what happened with Rufus."
"Cas said he did. Don't know why he'd lie."
"I just got a bad feeling about this."
Dean didn't respond.
xXxXxXxXxXx
Harry woke up in the back of the Impala. His head was throbbing and everything seemed to be spinning. No – not spinning, just moving. He blinked a couple of times, trying to make sense of both how he was feeling and where he was.
"Take this," the gruff voice of Bobby Singer came floating in. Loudly.
"Wha?" Harry asked. His eyes had still not managed to focus on a single thing.
"It's water, you idjit," Bobby explained.
"Loud," was all that Harry could get out. But he did finally see the bottle that Bobby was holding out in front of him.
"Oh yeah? You think that's loud?" Dean said from the front seat. He flipped a switch to turn on the stereo – and turned the volume all the way up. The first chords of 'Smoke on the Water,' played so loudly that Harry thought his head might explode.
"Dean!" Sam rebuked. But as he did so, Harry cast a silencing charm.
"Much better," he muttered, as he took a sip of the water.
"Hey! I said no magic in the Impala," Dean yelled. Harry cast another silencing spell.
"Would everyone just…be quiet, for a second," he said. Sam and Bobby smartly didn't say a thing, but Sam was looking at Dean's increasingly red face with amusement. Harry summoned an expandable pouch from one of his pockets. It was one of those things that Hermione insisted that he keep on him at all times. He didn't know what exactly was all in here, but he was pretty sure…yes, there it was. Harry grabbed a potion and downed it as quickly as he could. And then another two. He breathed a sigh of relief. And canceled the silencing spell on Dean.
"ASSHOLE, SON OF A BITCH –" Dean was yelling but stopped when he realized that you could speak again.
"You know, when you call me a son of a bitch, you're insulting mom," Harry said.
"What the hell is your problem, man?" Dean demanded.
"Headache. I drank a lot last…well…I don't know, whenever the hell I was last conscious. Where are we?"
"Just outside of Madison," Sam explained. "We're going to the Campbell base."
"Why?"
"It's where the Campbell family library is. We're hoping that it might have some information on how to kill Eve because we've exhausted all of our other resources."
Harry felt guilty. He knew of a way to kill Eve, but he hadn't had the chance to share it yet. He wasn't sure if he would either. Gabriel had tried to make him promise not to tell them, but Harry had refused. He took out his flask and downed some more alcohol.
"Ain't that what got you into this mess in the first place?" Bobby asked, unimpressed that the wizard was drinking again, but knowing that he couldn't take it away from him.
"Hair of the dog," Harry said.
"I think you've had enough," Sam said, frowning in the rear-view mirror.
"Yeah, dude, how much did you drink? A whole bar's worth?"
"No. Gabriel introduced me to…uh, he said the closest translation would be ambrosia. Something the Ancient Egyptian wizards created. Super strong, best stuff I'd had in years. It certainly did the trick."
"Oh, it's Gabriel now, no more 'Gabe,'" Dean said. "You two seemed cozy."
"He's my friend."
"You sure about that?" Dean asked, nastily. "You did say that he tried to kill you."
"He's not trying to kill me anymore," Harry said, exasperated.
"Yeah, that makes it better," Bobby said.
"It's in the past. It was a…misunderstanding. We've cleared it up."
"You wanna elaborate on that?" Sam asked.
"No."
Abruptly, Dean pulled the car over onto the side of the road.
"Get out," he growled at Harry.
Harry rolled his eyes, but got out of the car, figuring the fresh air could only do him some good. Dean followed closely behind, slamming the door behind him. Sam and Bobby quickly scrambled out, knowing Dean's temper could get out of hand.
Dean advanced on Harry, looking like he was going to attack, but stop just short. "Enough," he said. "We've been putting up with your bullshit for long enough. I've had it up to here," he put his hand over his head to indicate just how fed up he was.
"Do you think you intimidate me, Dean?" Harry taunted. "What are you going to do? Shoot me? Good luck with that." There was something in his tone that was special, that Sam recognized immediately – a taunt that is used universally by younger siblings everywhere that was known to make oldest kids crazy.
Dean glared. "What am I going to do? You know what I'm gonna do?" He was struggling to come up with something that might actually intimidate his brother and then had a stroke of genius. "I'm going call Molly Weasley. Then we'll see where your attitude gets you," he said smugly.
Harry flushed with anger. "You wouldn't dare."
"Wouldn't I? You know, she checks in on me every month or so. Arthur had a phone reinstalled just so that we could chat. Sam, Bobby, and me, we might not be able to overpower you, but I don't doubt for a second that Molly Weasley could get you to spill. And if she couldn't, I'm sure Ginny or Hermione could."
Harry gulped but didn't flinch. Dean wasn't wrong. If Sam wasn't so worried, he might have found it hilarious.
Harry and Dean continued to glare at each other, as if in a staring contest until Dean pulled out his cell phone.
Harry broke. "Fine. What do you want?"
Dean put the phone away. "First, drop the glamour."
Harry paled. He really didn't want to. Dean reached for his phone again. Harry sighed. He let the glamour fall off.
"Balls," Bobby said. Beneath the glamour Harry was skeletal. His cheeks were sunk in and there were dark circles under his eyes. His clothes, which had appeared to fit him moments ago, now hung loosely off his body. No one knew what to say and all three men just stared at him in horror. Harry got annoyed and reapplied the charm.
"Happy now?" he snapped.
"When was the last time you ate?" Sam asked gently, realizing that it had probably been quite some time.
Harry glared at him, embarrassed. "I ate that breakfast burrito yesterday morning."
"That's it?" Bobby asked. "You didn't have more than three bites of that thing. What about before then?"
Harry shrugged.
Dean looked enraged. "Son of a fucking bitch," he said. "Get back into the car," ordering them all back into the Impala.
"What?" Sam asked.
"Just get in the car, Sammy. Bobby – did you pack the cooler?"
"Yeah. It's mostly beer but…"
"Get whatever food is in there," Dean turned to Harry, "I don't care if you think it's crap, you're gonna eat whatever we've got. We're gonna go find a place to get you some real food. Then we'll talk."
Harry was taken aback by Dean's anger. So taken aback that he just listened and silently took the beef jerky and string cheese that Bobby gave him when they were all back in the car. No one spoke for the couple of miles it took for Dean to find an exit with a restaurant.
The second the waitress in the greasy spoon diner came to their table Dean spoke before anyone else could. "We'll take one of each appetizer and side as well as every burger you have on the menu," he said. "And pie."
"Dean, that's too much – " Sam shut up at the look on Dean's face.
The waitress looked surprised but nodded and went about to put their order in. The food came quickly and Dean started piling things onto a plate before shoving it in Harry's direction. "Eat," he ordered.
Harry knew that there was no way that he could eat this much. He was pretty sure that even Dudley, at his greediest, would have balked at the amount of food on the table. But he knew it was important to pick his battles with Dean. And he wasn't convinced that he would win this one. Every once in a while, Harry would stop, Dean would glare, and he would take another bite or two. Eventually, Harry pushed the plate away from himself. "I can't eat anymore."
"You will…"
"Dean, stop, he's eaten enough," Sam defended.
"Fine. Talk," Dean said.
Harry sighed for about the millionth time. "I suppose I should start with the Lance?"
"Seems as good a place as any," Bobby said.
"Alright. Well, Gabriel first told me about it before he confronted Lucifer. It was meant to be used against him, although he told me that it would kill any Archangel." Harry explained his side of the Battle at Skull Cemetery. "And Dean, no magical hospital would have been able to heal me any better than the muggle one you put me in. Gabriel healed me, in disguise, of course."
"He healed you just to try and kill you again?" Bobby asked.
Harry shrugged. "He's a complicated guy. He knew that I was having trouble with my magic. Think of Ben's puppy, Dean. That should not be possible. And I've checked – Pumpernickel is still alive and well. A totally normal dog that I made out of Lisa's breadbox."
"You can create life?" Sam was amazed.
"Not consciously. I tried again, but I've never been able to replicate it. Gabriel thinks that because I don't really want it to work, but I think it was just a fluke accident. I was burning through my wand every couple of days when he finally convinced me to let him train me. That's when he made me this," Harry indicated to the wandblade. "It has my original wand in it, as well as the Elder wand. He says that it can kill angels, but not archangels. I haven't tried it on any demons, but I imagine it would work on them as well."
"Alright, what about all of this stuff about Cas and getting his wings burned?" Dean demanded.
Harry knew that he had to tread carefully here. His brothers weren't ready to accept that Castiel wasn't trustworthy. "There is something in the Ministry that would have helped Castiel with his war in Heaven. But it would have posed a great threat to the wizarding world. Gabriel helped me create some wards to keep him – and any other angel, including Raphael, out."
"What is it?" Bobby asked.
Harry shook his head. "I can't tell you, I'm sorry."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"It means that it's too big to share, especially here, in a public diner. Angels wouldn't be the only ones interested in it. And you don't need to know."
Dean had a lot to say about that but Sam gave him a slight shake of his head. He didn't see the point in stopping the story telling to get in an argument. One that he had a feeling Dean would not win.
"I was in the Hogwarts library, trying to find ways to defeat Eve, when Gabriel came to me again. He has the habit of showing up in the oddest places. He told be that there was a spell – a spell that would kill Eve."
Wide eyes all around. "Way to bury the lead, kid," Bobby commented. "What's the catch?"
"How do you know there's a catch?" Harry snapped.
"'Cause otherwise, you would have told us right away, 'stead of waiting 'til we were forcing you to talk about it. Out with it."
"It is very dangerous to the caster," Harry explained.
"In what way?" Sam asked.
"It would require…well, it would require the caster, any caster, to enter Heaven in order to be complete. I can't become Angel of Death if I'm dead and I can't come back from the dead once I've moved on." Harry was scared to share this information. He couldn't get Gabriel's voice out of the back of his head. Now was going to be the moment where his brothers showed him what he already knew. That he was more useful dead than alive. The rejection would hurt, but would ultimately make the sacrifice easier. He looked down, missing the looks of shock and outrage around the table.
"Well, you won't be using that spell," Dean said, vehemently.
"But if…" Harry was shocked.
"No. We'll find another way," Sam empathically agreed with Dean. It was a lot to take in, but he understood the exhaustion he saw in Harry's eyes now.
"Gabriel says there are other ways," Harry said. "But…"
"No buts," Bobby interrupted. "There's another way, and we're gonna find it. End of story."
It was sweet, Harry thought, that they were pretending that his life meant that much. He knew that Eve couldn't be allowed to continue to roam the Earth, and if came down to his life versus everyone else's the choice was clear. Still, at the same time, it was quite the weight off his shoulders. Fewer secrets made things much less stressful.
"What I want to know," Bobby said, thinking through everything, "is why Gabriel changed his mind? Why tell you now, when you would have done the spell and gone on with it?"
Harry knew he had to be cautious again. He was determined to not lie, but that didn't mean that his family needed the whole truth. "He said that he had a…change in perspective recently. I don't know, I think maybe he got in a fight with some other angels about it. We made a deal, him and I. He promised me three things. Any move we make will be made to protect you first."
"Us?" Dean asked.
"Yeah. You and Sam. Sorry Bobby, but you by extension, I imagine. His goals will be the same as mine."
"What else?" Sam asked, feeling some dread.
"He gave me the spell."
"No!" Dean said.
"Yeah. I have it. Just in case…"
"Well, you can go ahead and forget it."
"We'll see."
"And the last thing?" Bobby asked.
Harry grinned. "He promised that he would teach me how to get drunk again. And, although this wasn't part of the deal, has provided me with my own stash of liquor to draw from. No more drinking entire bars just for a buzz. So, at least, if I'm in the last couple of weeks of my life, I don't have to face them sober."
No one else at the table found that amusing in the least.
"There's another way, there always is," Dean insisted. "And I will take your wandblade before I let you do that spell."
"Yeah, it's fine, let's try to find another way. But at the end off the day, I'll do what I gotta do. And you would do the same."
That may be the case for everyone present, but every man there was determined that it would never come to that. Not if they could help it.
"That everything?" Bobby asked.
Harry nodded. "Yep."
No one believed his lie.
xXxXxXxXxXx
The group made their way to the bottom of the ladder that Sam had found under a floorboard.
"Welcome to the Campbell family library," Sam said.
Harry looked around. Books lined all the walls and it was the perfect amount of space for one person to do some intense studying. "Man, when I was a kid, I would have killed for this sort of space."
"What was that?" Sam asked.
"When I lived with the Dursleys, I used to hide my magic stuff under a loose floorboard. Well, that and food in case…" Harry stopped talking from the looks he was getting from his brothers and Bobby. He flushed red. Silently, he cursed, he had been slowly drinking since they left the diner, and it was showing.
"You had to hoard food?" Sam asked, sounding sad.
"It wasn't really that bad. Dudley was always on these diets and…you know, it doesn't matter."
Bobby and Dean exchanged looks. This confirmed everything that they already believed about Harry's childhood.
Harry was eternally grateful when Dean changed the subject. "So, Samuel collected all this stuff, huh?"
"Apparently," Sam said, also dropping the subject, for now.
"Wow. All right, well, what are we looking for?"
"Well, anything that'll put a run in Octomom's stockings. Pick a row."
All of them started looking through the books. Harry had picked up two when he realized what he needed to be doing.
"What are you doing?" Bobby asked him when he noticed.
"Making copies," Harry replied. "Hermione would kill me if I don't get her copies of these books. This is a treasure trove."
Bobby grunted with approval. "Make two while you're at it – that way we can hide some of 'em in safe places."
Harry nodded and continued with this work. This also got him out of having to read all of the books, something that he usually left to his bookworm of a best friend. It also allowed him to keep drinking because everyone's noses were too buried in books to notice. He feared what would happen if the alcohol completely left his system – he didn't want to have a breakdown in plain sight.
"Bingo!" Bobby exclaimed. Everyone stopped what they were doing to look up at him. "Any of you jokers ever heard anything about a Pheonix?"
"One saved my life once," Harry said offhandedly.
Dean had been about to make a joke about the actors, but that stopped him short. "What?"
"Yeah. I got bit by a basilisk. Should've killed me, but Fawkes was there, so he cried on me and…" Everyone was staring. "I didn't die."
"I'm not even gonna ask," Dean said, finding his middle brother to be exhausting today. "What about them, Bobby?"
"It says here that the ashes of a Pheonix can burn the mother."
"The mother?"
"Great," Dean said sarcastically. "Harry, do you know where we can get the ashes of a Phoenix?"
"Absolutely not," Harry said vehemently. "If you take the ashes of a phoenix, it can't be reborn, it would die permanently. It is taboo."
"Taboo? You worried about breaking some rules for a bird?"
Harry glared. "First, I would have to find a phoenix, which is not easily done, the only domesticated ones have long since vanished. Second, it is more than taboo. Phoenixes are sacred. While we use parts of the phoenix – such as their feathers for wands or their tears for healing, those must be given willingly. No wizard with any sort of respect for magic would purposefully kill a phoenix."
"But what if we burned a feather that a Phoenix gave us?" Sam asked.
Harry shook his head. "That would kill the bird. The answer is no. It is also unlikely that whatever this book is referring to is the same as the creature that lives in my world."
"All right, awesome," Sam said. "Well, let's see if we can find something about a Phoenix." Everyone went back to their various books. Harry kept drinking. Everyone noticed, but pretended not to.
"Guys, guys, guys, guys," Dean said, sounding excited. He had been standing by one of the shelves and he comes and joins Bobby and Sam, who was sitting at the table. He begins to read from the book that he was holding, "March 5, 1861. Sunrise, Wyoming. Gun killed a Phoenix today. Left a pile of smoldering ash."
"Really?" Sam asked. "Whose gun?"
"Colt's," Dean responded, still excited.
"Colt? Colt like – "
"Like the Colt. From Samuel Colt's Journal."
"What?" Sam started grinning like a mad man. "That's his?"
"Yeah."
"Dude, no."
"Dude, yes."
Sam went to grab the book. "Well, let me see it."
Dean defended and moved it out of Sam's reach. "Get your own."
Harry watched this scene with amusement. He loved it when his brothers acted like just that.
"Well, what else does he say about the Phoenix? What does it look like? Has it got feathers?"
"It can't be my time of phoenix," Harry said. "There's no way that a muggle could shoot one – it would just vanish."
Dean frowned. "It just says, 'Phoenix,'"
"Did he say where he tracked it?"
"No."
"So, I guess we got to find one on our own, whatever it is," Sam said.
"I know where we can find one. March 5, 1861. Sunrise, Wyoming. We'll 'Star Trek IV' this bitch."
Harry looked to Sam for an explanation. Sam just shrugged. Bobby looked just as confused. "I only watched 'Deep Space Nine.'"
"It's like I don't even know you guys anymore. 'Star Trek IV.' Save the whales."
No one got it.
"We hop back in time, we join up with Samuel Colt, we hunt the Phoenix, and then we haul the ashes back home with us."
"Time travel?" Bobby asked incredulously. Harry didn't know that muggles could do that.
"Yeah."
"That's the reasonable plan?"
"We got a guy who can swing it." Dean stood up and started to pray. "Castiel. The, uh, fate of the world is in the balance. So, come on down here. Come on Cas, 'I Dream of Jeannie' your ass down here pronto. Please."
Suddenly, an angel appeared, but it wasn't Castiel, it was a blonde woman. Harry drew his wandblade.
"Jeannie?" Dean asked.
"Rachel," the woman responded. She frowned at Harry. "There is no need for that, wizard. I understand that you need some assistance? How can I help you?"
Harry lowered his wandblade but kept it in his hand.
"Well, uh, we kind of need to talk to the Big Kahuna," Dean said.
"I'm here on Castiel's behalf," Rachel explained.
"Where is he?" Sam asked.
"Busy."
"You know, if Castiel can't come down here, I could always call…" Harry started.
Dean cut him off, "Busy?" He asked, not believing what he was hearing.
"Yes."
"Well, we've got a line on the mother of freaking everything so – "
"I'm sure your issue is very important. But Castiel is currently commanding an army, so…"
"So, we get stuck with Miss Moneypenny."
"So, you need to learn your place."
"Look, I don't know who you think you are…"
"I'm his friend."
"What, and you think we're not?" Sam demanded.
"I think you call him when you need something. We're fighting a war."
"Really, guys, Gabriel's not commanding anything, and…"
"We get that," Sam said to Rachel, ignoring Harry. It was annoying.
"Clearly, you don't, or you wouldn't call him every time you stub your toe, you petty, entitled little pe –"
"Rachel, that's enough," Castiel said, appearing at last.
"I told you I'd take care of this," she said, angry.
"It's all right. You can go."
"You're staying?"
"Go. I'll come when I can."
She left.
"Wow. Friend of yours?" Dean asked.
"Yes. She's, uh, my lieutenant. She's…committed to the cause. Now, what do you need?" He crinkled his nose. "And why is Henry so drunk?"
AN – Hello again everyone! I'm going to try and make my AN's much shorter, but, as you all know, I am extremely long-winded so I may or may not succeed.
Please note the updated tags on AO3. I realized, after writing this chapter, that Harry is sounding very suicidal. He doesn't think of it that way, but that is, ultimately, what he's contemplating here.
That special tone of voice to annoy older siblings is one perfected by this author. I am the youngest of three and I am very good at annoying my older brother and sister with my tone of voice only.
Harry's hangover is brought to you by drinking over the age of 30. I do not condone self-medicating with alcohol, but I do understand the overwhelming anxiety that alcohol can take the edge off of. If you are of a more advanced age (like myself), I want you to imagine Harry's hangover like the first time you woke up with a hangover after drinking like a 22-year-old as a not a 22-year-old.
This story is going to end early Season 7 (currently, the plan is episode 3, but that could change slightly) I, personally, really don't enjoy Season 7 as a whole and hate Leviathans specifically so I won't be going there. If I someday write a threequel, it will take place in a later season – I haven't decided which yet, but definitely between seasons 8 – 10. If it weren't for As Time Goes By or LARP and the Real Girl, 8 would be out entirely as a thought as well. I may just have to timestamp an episode or two.
Thank you, as always for the amazing comments and reviews. I write this story because it amuses me and makes me happy but I think I would have given it up ages ago if it weren't for the feedback and support I get from all of you!
The next chapter is currently called, "Save the Whales," which will not stick. To tease it a little, I will tell you that (by coincidence only) a certain character will be making a return to this fic on what is page 666 of my word doc.