Unfound
Chapter Thirty-Three
"Hey," Sam said as he came into the kitchen where Dean was eating a midnight bowl of cereal.
Dean grunted in reply.
"You know, you should thank Harry that I bought that candy-for-breakfast in the first place," Sam said. "You would have thought that he would have gotten over the American cereal aisle by now, but no, he's determined to try each and every different kind."
"I was wondering why there were so many. Why don't you ever give in when I ask?"
Sam crossed his arms over his chest. "Because you're a jerk. That didn't grow up deprived of nice things."
"Hey!" Dean protested. "That's not true, and you know it."
Sam shot him a bitch face. Because, of course, Dean would only admit that when he was trying to win an argument.
"I get it," Dean said. "He's turned the sad eyes on you didn't he?"
"Yes! I don't know if it's the Oliver Twist British accent or the look like I just told him we have to put his puppy down, but it gets me every time."
Dean laughed. "Payback's a bitch, ain't it?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Sure, Sammy." Dean moved his bowl over to the sink.
"You seem to be doing better," Sam said carefully, not wanting to set Dean off.
"What do you mean?" Dean asked sharply.
Sam considered. "You've been…moody recently."
A dark look crossed Dean's face. "Yeah. We lost Mom and Cas and now Missouri. Not a whole hell of a lot to be cheery about."
"You don't…"
"Stop. Just stop, Sam. I'm dealing with it, ok?"
"I think maybe it would help if…"
"No," Dean cut him off. "It's late. I'm going to bed."
He fled the room and Sam sighed. Of course, he thought. Repression was Dean's favorite coping mechanism. He didn't know how he, the youngest, ended up having to be the voice of reason to two brothers, and yet, here he was.
III
Whatever this place was, it was amazing, Sirius thought as he wandered through the corridors of the wizarding section of the Bunker. Sure, he wasn't thrilled to be stuck here, and he wouldn't admit it if anyone asked, but it was nice to have a safe, clean, and warm place to be without fear of monster attacks or being at the mercy of a demon. The bed was lovely and almost too soft. And the showers. Well – Sirius hadn't had a proper shower since before he had fallen through the veil and he was pretty sure none of them had been that good.
Also, whoever was in charge of food (Sirius assumed most of it was take away) really knew what they were doing. His godson snuck away every so often to bring him meals and Sirius didn't have one complaint. It wasn't as fancy as the food he had gotten at Crowley's but it was comforting. His favorite was the full English breakfast that he had been brought that morning.
Sirius had been worried about it being dull like Grimmauld Place had been all those years ago, but there was so much to see here that he was yet to be bored, even for a second.
First, there were the books. Although he hadn't been much of a reader before, he had a new appreciation for the written word, having been away from it for so long. The theoretical magic they discussed was fascinating and far more advanced than anything he had thought was possible.
Second, there were the artifacts. The halo of an angel. Peter Stump's belt. The necklace of Harmonia. His mother would have killed to have some of these magical items. He actually wasn't completely convinced that his family hadn't killed for objects with half the magical power of what he saw here. He knew better than to touch any of them.
Third, and best of all, for the in-between times, there was Harry. His godson was both everything he ever hoped he would be and nothing like he could have ever imagined. Over the course of a week, he got the full story about the war and the Winchesters. And since it was Harry telling it, he was pretty sure that he was downplaying his role and importance in all of it. He was as brave and fierce as his mother and as loyal and hilarious as his father. Sirius knew that Lily and James would be so incredibly proud of him.
At the same time, though, Harry certainly had some blind spots. The biggest being his brothers. (The second biggest had to be the so-called Archangel Gabriel, who seemed just as bad as the Winchesters.) Sirius didn't understand why Harry couldn't see that they had treated him like absolute and complete shite. That was evident from even the watered-down version of stories that Harry told.
Everything from being rejected for circumstances literally out of his control (like angels wiping the minds of his family), to keeping secrets from him, to letting him bloody sacrifice himself. And they had made him believe that they bound his magic for his own good. Sirius could tell that Harry, while not happy about the situation, still believed his brothers were in the right.
Harry's ability to forgive was easily his biggest weakness.
Thankfully, Sirius's ability to hold a grudge was strong enough for both of them. He knew what he needed to do. He needed to stay here (which was actually not the hardship that he had originally thought it would be) and remind Harry of his worth. He'd have to be subtle. And he couldn't lie – finding a lie would bring it all come crashing down around him.
III
Harry handed Dean a cup of coffee without saying a word. He knew better. Dean took it gratefully and gave him a grunt of appreciation while they both sat, silently, at the breakfast table.
Dean put his cup down having drained it.
"So, I thought today you might help me with my aim," Harry said casually.
"Your aim?"
"Yeah. With a gun."
"You want to use a gun?" Dean asked, wondering if he was still asleep, and dreaming. Although this wasn't use usual genre of dream.
"Well, no, but my magic doesn't seem to be coming back anytime soon, and I figure you're about at the end of your rope of being stuck in this Bunker and will probably want to take another case again soon." It had been a week since Dean had gotten back from his last case and Harry knew that he must be itching under his skin.
"You think that you can learn to shoot well enough to join me on a hunt? In what, a couple of days?"
"First, I already know how to shoot a gun. I've had lessons."
Dean snorted. "Yeah. Twenty years ago."
"Are you saying that Dad wasn't a good teacher?"
"Dad was a great teacher. The problem isn't in the teacher, it's in the student. You were an annoying little brat who didn't want to learn than either."
"Well, now I'm a big annoying brat," Harry flashed him a grin. "But if you think that you're not up for the challenge…well, I'm sure that Sam would be more than willing. He'd probably be better, in any case. He's the better shot, isn't he?"
"I'm not that easily baited," Dean shot back.
"No? Well, fine. As soon as Sam gets back from his run, I'll ask him. You go about your day doing whatever you've been doing to keep yourself occupied. Sam told me that you've washed and waxed Baby two times this week already, but maybe a third coat is needed."
"You wait one goddamned second," Dean growled. "First, I haven't washed and waxed her twice in one week, that would be idiotic. I've been fine-tuning her…you know, it doesn't matter. Grab your gun and meet me in the shooting range." He stood, angrily, and stomped out of the room.
III
Sam rubbed his face – exhausted from looking through what felt like thousands of books. He had returned from his run with Harry and Dean nowhere in sight and Jack holed up in his room. When he checked, it wasn't Netflix anymore, it was a never-ending black hole of cat videos. The kid seemed happy enough so he had let him be.
It bothered him that Harry's powers weren't back. It just didn't make any sense. Gabriel had said that the spell should wear off when the poison left Harry's system. And while there was no way to confirm that it was completely gone, it had been ages since he was last injected with it. So, Sam had started looking through the lore on Nephilim for what felt like the millionth time.
There was almost nothing. Sam slammed the book shut.
He decided to go find Harry and Dean – hoping that the two of them hadn't murdered each other. Harry had been less combative since Dean had come back from the case with Teddy but that didn't mean that he wasn't still prone to what could best be described as temper tantrums. Sam wanted to do some research in the wizarding section of the Bunker, thinking there might be something there, but Harry had been vehemently opposed saying that it was his angelic powers that were down, not the wizarding ones.
Harry had lashed out and tried to pick another fight about having his powers bound. It had proven effective, because Sam really wanted to avoid hurting his feelings. And now that he thought of it, that was a little suspicious.
That actually gave him an idea. Rather than go and find his brothers, he could sneak into the wizarding area now. Not that it was really sneaking. This was his home before it had been Harry's and his brother didn't have any sort of claim or rights over all things magical. And what Harry didn't couldn't hurt him.
As he stood, he heard the sounds of his brothers coming towards him. They were loud and it sounded like they were arguing. Guess that plan is out the window, he thought, not looking forward to having to mediate another fight.
"How can you possibly say that?" Dean was saying angrily.
"It's not that big of a deal!" Harry argued back.
The two of them entered the library.
"Not that big of a deal? NOT THAT BIG OF A DEAL? Weren't you the one who wouldn't shut up about how apple pies are British? Not American? How dare you claim that piece of Americana and then shame it by saying that your fancy pansy limey dessert is better?"
"It's a tart, Dean, that's basically still a pie," Harry wasn't backing down.
"You're a tart," Dean shot back.
"Fantastic comeback, the one really stung, you know – " Harry stopped talking when he noticed Sam, who was looking at the two of them with amusement. "Sam! You can set the record straight. You've had Molly's treacle tart, right? Could you please tell Dean that it's better than apple pie?"
"Don't you dare, Sam," Dean warned, pointing a finger at him. "I will kick you out of this Bunker."
Sam gave them both a bitch face that neither had to interpret because he came right out and said what he was thinking. "You're both wrong."
That snapped both of their attention to him.
"What?" They asked together.
Sam smirked. "Look, you know I don't have much of a sweet tooth, but a Greek yogurt smoothie with straw – "
"I can't hex him right now, but I'd like to," Harry said to Dean, turning away from Sam.
"Please, you don't need magic to get Sam in line," Dean said. "Just do this," he walked over and smacked Sam upside his head.
"Hey!" Sam moved to put Dean in a headlock, but he ducked out of the way, making Sam stumble a little.
"The trick is to use his height against him," Dean instructed, ducking another attack and moving behind Sam to hit him upside the head again.
Harry watched with interest. "So, what you're saying is that if I do this…" Harry strode over to Sam, copied Dean's movement, and struck Sam on the head before moving out of the reach of his younger brother's considerable arm's length.
"Real mature," Sam said, annoyed to be ganged up on by both his brothers. "This is stupid. I'm going to go find Jack. He's not even a year old and he is less whiney and annoying than the two of you."
Dean and Harry looked at each other and decided with one mind what to do next.
Harry rushed him from the front, swaying him slightly off balance, while Dean used that to his advantage to pull Sam into the headlock that he had tried to do on him earlier. Sam struggled as Dean's grip got tighter and Harry jabbed him in the stomach, making him stay doubled over.
A voice cleared its throat.
Jack had emerged from his room, at last, to find the men that were supposed to be his guardians tangled together in what looked, to him, to be a fight to the death.
Dean released his hold on Sam's neck and backed away, embarrassed.
"Hey, Jack," Harry said cheerfully.
"What – what are you three doing?"
"Nothing," Sam and Dean said at the same time.
"Uh – ok. Have any of you heard from Ted?"
"I talked to him a couple of hours ago," Harry said.
"Oh."
"What's up, Jack?" Sam asked.
"I just – I was hoping that Ted would be coming back today."
"He's just finished up a shifter case with Claire," Harry said.
Jack scowled.
"And you're just letting him hunt now?"
Harry glanced at his brothers who were no help at all. "Letting is a bit of a strong word," Harry said. "I would prefer he didn't, but, as he loves to point out, he's of age and I can hardly stop him." It was more than that, of course. When Ted came back to the Bunker, Harry wasn't sure how long he'd be able to hide Sirius from him. And letting a third person in on the secret could jeopardize everything. It was a minor miracle that Jack hadn't spilled the beans yet.
"You know, I've thought that was strange too," Sam said. "I haven't heard you have one argument with him about safety or needing to come home since he left. Why the change of heart?"
"I didn't have a change of heart," Harry insisted. "I'd really rather he didn't. But you are always so quick to point out that he's in his twenties now, Sam."
"You know," Dean said, making a connection he hadn't before. "Your bitch attitude has lessened recently. What gives?"
"I can't be in a good mood?" Harry asked.
"No," Sam and Dean said at the same time.
Harry groaned. He hated it when they talked at the same time. "Look, if it will make you all happy, I'll call Teddy now and tell him to hightail it back here."
"Yes, please," Jack said before either Sam or Dean could call attention to the change in topic. Harry left to go get his phone.
Jack looked pleased. "Tell me when Ted gets back?" He asked, before going back to his room. He couldn't wait to have his friend back. He had so much to tell him and he had a surprise that he wanted to get ready for.
"Where were you two?" Sam asked Dean.
"Shooting range. Harry wanted me to show him how to shoot."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Dunno. Guess he figures that his powers aren't comin' back anytime soon. He wants to be able to go out on cases with us."
Something about that didn't sit quite right with Sam. "Do you think he can hack it?"
"Yeah. If you ever tell him I said this, I will deny it, but he's a great shot for someone who hasn't handled a gun since he was a teenager. Hell, he's a great shot for a hunter. But not as good as me."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Of course not. Have you noticed – "
"That he's been acting differently? Yeah. Strangely happy for someone who used to be a nuclear warhead and now has to settle for the equivalent of a bow and arrow."
"He's stopped trying to get out of the Bunker too. While you were gone not only did he manage to break into the garage, he made at least eight attempts to leave – that I know of. You come back, without Teddy, I might add, and all of a sudden, he's Harry homebody."
"And he's not even upset that Teddy's hunting!"
Sam frowned deeply. "He's also been spending a lot of time in his room. Something is up."
"Maybe," Dean said, not really wanting to let go of the one good thing that had happened since they had dealt with the Devil.
"Do you think that you could take him out for a couple of hours?" Sam asked.
"Take him out?"
"Yeah. Maybe on one of your famous bar crawls that you never shut up about?"
"In Lebanon?" Dean asked, disbelievingly.
"Further away would be better. Maybe Wichita? Or Lincoln?"
Dean was giving that some thought. "I bet he can't hold his liquor like he could before," he considered. "That could either make it way more or less fun."
"I don't care how much fun you have," Sam hissed. "I just want him out, for a little bit."
"And the kid?"
Sam sighed. Dean had still not warmed up to him. "You could take him with you."
"Could I? He's not even a year old – doesn't seem very responsible for us to take him on a bar crawl," Dean pointed out smugly, using the argument that Sam had used on him many times in the past relating to his behavior towards Jack. "Nah, I think it's better if we leave him with you. And without Harry here for you to argue with, you'll finally get that quality time you were looking for." He smirked and went to go find Harry.
Sam internally groaned. Yeah, he had totally walked straight into that one.
III
Sirius smiled when he heard the door open. He was sitting in one of the comfy chairs by the bookcase looking through a book.
"Hey, Harry, you'll never believe what I just found…" he stopped at the look on his godson's face. "What's wrong?"
"What?" Harry asked. "What makes you think that there is something wrong?"
Sirius stood and folded his arms over his chest. "You may look more like John Winchester than anyone else now, but that expression of guilt has James written all over it. You're not breaking up with me, are you?" It came out without Sirius thinking – he used to ask James that question anytime he saw that particular expression. Nothing could get him to confess quicker.
"What?" Harry repeated. "No. Of course not. It's just – Dean wants to take me on a case for a couple of days and I couldn't think of a reason not to go."
The trick worked on Harry too, it seemed. "A case?"
"Yeah. Shouldn't be a big deal – he thinks it might be a Chupacabra in Nebraska. Which, is a little far north to find one, but they should be easy enough to kill."
"A Chupacabra," Sirius repeated back to him.
"You going to keep just repeating back what I'm saying to you?"
"I'm just trying to make sense of it all. Why, in the name of Godric Gryffindor, would Dean take you hunting? You can't do magic!"
Harry scowled. "I'm not useless without my magic. I've got a gun."
Now Sirius was even more concerned. "A gun? Those are dangerous, Harry!"
"Not any more dangerous than a wand," Harry argued. "Dad gave me one when I was fourteen. Dean gave me a refresher on how to use it. It's pretty easy, actually."
"Harry, wizards don't use guns," Sirius said. "And without your magic, you won't be able to ward against bullets! You could die. What the hell is Dean thinking?"
"Dean is thinking that I'm a grown man who can handle himself in a fight," Harry said, crossing his own arms, not liking where this conversation was going. "I'm just letting you know that I'm going to be gone for a couple of days. I'll bring you food that you can put in stasis so you won't starve or anything. But we're leaving Sam and Jack here, so you should be extra careful. I've had to shoo him away from this part of Bunker several times now."
"And you don't think my wards can keep him out?" Sirius scoffed.
"I'd prefer that he not even try and find that he can't get in here," Harry said. "If he gets suspicious, I don't doubt that he'd find a way."
"You told me that he just started learning magic a couple of years ago."
"He did. But he's smart. Sirius, I mean it. Stay here."
Sirius ground his teeth. He didn't like to be ordered around by anyone, especially not someone whose diapers he had changed. The worst part was that if Harry hadn't ordered him to stay, he would've without issue.
"Where else would I go?" He finally said, exasperated.
"I don't know. But I don't want you to forget that Sam is a dangerous man. So is Dean. Don't think that you can take them one because you're a wizard."
"I don't think I can take them on because I'm a wizard," Sirius said. "I've taken on Leviathan. And countless other creatures that you can only imagine. I'm not weak, Harry."
"I didn't say you were."
Sirius disagreed.
"If you need anything – you can text me. Or, if it is something more immediate, Jack. But try not to involve him too much, if you can avoid it. I'm not sure how well he can keep a secret."
"Well, he's a baby, so I don't expect much."
"Good."
Sirius was annoyed, but more than anything, he was worried. While Harry was here in the Bunker, he knew that he was safe. Sure, his wankers for brothers were around, but he didn't think they would do anything to him while he was here. Out in the world though… "Just – promise me you'll be careful," Sirius said.
"I promise I won't do anything you wouldn't do," Harry said with a cheeky grin.
"Brat," Sirius said with fondness.
"Now, why don't you show me what you were talking about when I got in here. I should have a little bit of time. Sam is giving Dean a rundown of the lore and that'll take them ages."
Sirius' eyes lit up. "Right, so there was this one American wizard who…"
III
Ted had a lot on his mind as he came into the Bunker. He had just wrapped a case up with Claire. The two of them had made a great team. Not only were they able to stop a killer, but they were also able to make the call that the Shifter that was acting as a therapist wasn't a threat to humans and they were able to help her cover her tracks so that no other Hunters could come after her.
Working with Claire was about a million times better than working with Sam and Dean or Harry. It was even better than working with Ben, although that was a close call. He and Claire just got each other. So much so that Claire had asked if he wanted to keep hunting with her. Permanently.
And Ted was considering it. With Claire, he was an equal – they were peers. She trusted him more than anyone else had before. And it was good work. He had inherited enough money that he didn't really need a job and if he could spend his time-saving people with one of his best friends then – well, he couldn't really see the downside of that.
However, he couldn't just take off. He had said some hurtful things to Harry that, while true, wasn't how he wanted to leave living in the Bunker with him. He had missed out on so much time with Harry that he could hardly believe that he was considering not spending as much time as possible with the man. But it was what was natural.
"Ted," Sam said when he got downstairs. Ted hadn't even noticed him standing there.
"Oh, hey Sam," he said. "I was lost in thought. You doing research for a case?" He looked at the book that was sitting directly in front of Sam.
"Not really," he replied. "Just trying to figure out what the hell happened with Harry's powers. They should be back."
"Find anything?"
"Not a thing," Sam replied tiredly. "You back for good now? Jack's been missing you."
Ted felt a tug of guilt in his stomach. He had more-or-less forgotten about Jack. That was another reason he couldn't just strike off with Claire. He didn't want to abandon him.
"Yeah. I think so," Ted said, not really wanting to get into it. "Where is everyone?"
"Jack's probably in his room," Sam said. "I made Dean take Harry out of the Bunker for an overnight trip. Dude's been stuck in here for too long."
Ted gave Sam a sharp look. "You're not worried he's going to make a run for it?"
"He might. But he's with Dean, so I don't think he'd get too far. And he's seemed less of a flight risk recently."
"Really?"
"Yeah," Sam closed his book. He was about to say more, but Jack came into the room.
"Ted!" He called out.
"Hey Jack," Ted said.
"I'm so glad you're back. I have so much to tell you – first have you watched Mindhunter? It's about the psychology of serial killers. I think that you'd really like it."
"I haven't," Ted said with amusement. "But it sounds great, maybe we can watch it together sometime."
Jack beamed. "Do you want to start now?"
Sam cleared his throat. "Maybe the two of you should watch something a little less…dark?" He was mildly concerned to hear about Jack's interest in serial killers, not that he was one to talk, he had binged the entire first season in a couple of days.
Jack looked disappointed.
"You know – I heard The Defenders just came out," Ted said, trying to steer them away from an uncomfortable conversation. "Remember, I told you about Jessica Jones?"
"Oh yes, and the Doctor that is the villain?"
Ted laughed a little. "Yeah. Maybe we can start on that. Want to join us, Sam?"
Sam shook his head. "Nah, I have some work to catch up on. You two go ahead."
The smile returned to Jack's face and he quickly hauled Ted out of the room. Sam mouthed, "thank you," to him. Ted just winked.
Sam sighed when they left the room. He really did have work to do and now would be an ideal time to start.
III
It had been a couple of years since Dean had been to Lincoln, but he never forgot a good bar once he had visited it. Especially when it had his brother's name.
"Harry's Wonder Bar?" Harry asked as they pulled into some street parking.
"Best bar in Nebraska," Dean said proudly.
"Alright," Harry said, not questioning Dean's taste in bars. "You know – it's not very late. We could start at the police station and start…"
"Why the hell would we start at the police station?"
"Um, for the case. You said that there was a supposed siting of a Chupacabra. I know that they don't normally kill humans, but I'm sure that the…"
"There's no Chupacabra," Dean said, getting out of the car.
Harry sat, stunned for a second. "Wait, what?" He asked as he followed a couple of seconds behind, Dean already two steps away from the front entrance of the bar. "Dean!" he called out after him.
Dean was inside the bar before Harry could question him further. He ordered both of them some beers and took a seat at the bar.
"I thought we were here for a case," Harry hissed, trying not to be overheard. "I'm in a suit and everything."
"I know," Dean said casually, sipping on his beer.
"You let me read that entire book about them on the way up here."
Dean shrugged. "Not my fault that you decided to take a page out of Sammy's book with the nerd research." He proceeded to laugh at his own joke. "Get it? A page because…"
"I get it," Harry interrupted. Dread started to fill his gut. "Then, why are we here?"
"Look, man, you've been cooped up in that Bunker for too long. Sam and I thought that you could use some fresh air. It was his idea but I've learned to never question when Sam tells me to go have fun. It's so rare."
Harry stood up. "I'm going back," he said, starting to walk towards the door.
Dean scrambled off his bar stool to get in his way. "Come on, Harry, just relax for a second."
Harry didn't want to, but he didn't have a way back without Dean. And he wasn't suicidal enough to try and steal the Impala. He'd save that for the next time he needed to die to save his brothers.
"There a problem here?" the barkeeper asked as they sat back down.
"Nah," Dean responded. "Just a little disagreement between brothers. Nothin' a beer or two can't fix, right Harry?"
Harry didn't respond, he just picked up his beer and chugged. "He's buying," he said at the end of an impressively long drink.
"That's the spirit," Dean said, slapping him on the back. "Another round for us. Maybe something better – what whiskey's you got?"
III
After another annoyingly empty round of going through the most obscure books in the main library of the Bunker, Sam decided it was time to up his game. Now that he didn't need to keep his eyes on Jack it would be safe.
Sam trusted Ted enough to keep an eye on Jack and nothing crazy would happen while they were together. (Crazy being a relative term for a Winchester – nothing apocalyptic was the bar for crazy for him at the moment.)
He was going to use this time to do some research in the magical library of the Bunker. He hadn't wanted to go in there with Jack around because he wasn't sure what was in there and didn't want the Nephilim to get into anything dangerous. He really hadn't had time to catalog it and the Muggle artifacts in the Bunker were dangerous enough without the added level of magic.
He went over to the door, wand in hand. He muttered the words, placed his hand on the doorknob, ready to enter, only to walk smack-dab into the door, which hadn't budged. Hmmm, he wondered. Did I do the spell wrong? It had never been a problem for him before. He tried again. Same result.
Just to check to make sure that he hadn't somehow destroyed his magical core again he muttered a quick Lumos. His wand lit up. Nox. No issue. Something more complicated then. With everything going on, this would be a little more difficult, but he had been practicing. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, he thought. Every time one of his brothers came back when he never expected to see them again. Finding the Bunker. Flying.
The familiar form appeared in front of him – fully corporeal.
When he had first conjured the animal, he had thought it was just a copy of Harry's stag. But as the being had gotten clearer and clearer he noticed that he wasn't looking at ordinary antlers. They didn't branch out in the same way – there were only two, slightly twisted. And they were pure black. He had almost laughed and then groaned when he had first seen it. It was an Impala. Aepyceros melampus petersi, he had discovered after doing some research.
Well, then there was nothing wrong with his magic. But that did give him an idea – he whispered a couple of words to his Patronus and sent it off to Teddy.
It didn't take long for the young man to come dashing down the hallway.
"Wicked, Sam," he said. "I didn't know that you could make a Patronus. That's really advanced magic, you know. Not all wizards can do it."
Sam blushed a little. That compliment helped abate some of the embarrassment of having to ask for magical help from someone so much younger than him. "Harry could make one when he was thirteen," he responded.
"Yeah, well, that's Harry, isn't it? Doesn't matter. What do you need help with?"
"I can't get in here," Sam said, indicating to the door that led to the magical wing of the Bunker. "It's warded, of course, but I thought that I had set them correctly to let me in, but now I seem to be blocked."
"What's the spell?"
Sam told him.
Teddy tried it as well – with no result. "That's odd," he said, he started muttering some other spells and charms with complicated wand movements. "We've been locked out," he said.
"Well, yeah, I figured out that much, but…"
"No, I mean specifically. You and me. These wards were constructed specifically to keep us out."
"What?"
With a couple more spoken words, runes began to glow in the air in front of them. "You see this rune, here?" Teddy asked.
"Yeah, that's Algiz, it's the Elder Futhark rune for strength and protection."
Teddy snorted. "Yeah, it's that, but it also means Elk."
"Elk?"
"Or, what's another word for an elk?"
Sam had to think on that for a full ten seconds before it clicked. "No," he said in disbelief.
Teddy grinned. "Yep. This ward specifically prevents, Moose, from entering this space."
"And that works?"
"Don't look at me, I only took Ancient Runes for a term before I dropped it."
Sam was more than a little disgruntled. "And which rune represents you? As far as I know, there isn't a rune for a stuffed bear."
Teddy made a face. "No, this one is mine," he made another rune highlight in front of them.
Sam squinted, "Son of… I don't recognize the name that it's supposed to represent."
"That's because it's not a name," Ted scowled. "It's a Sowilo. It's not written in Elder Futhark, it's in Younger Futhark, which was just sloppy, honestly."
"It's a lightning bolt," Sam said, recognizing the shape to be extremely similar to the one that was in the middle of Harry's head.
"Yeah."
"You think Harry did this?"
"Who else could have?"
Sam shook his head. "I've been in here since Harry's magic was bound," he explained. "There's no way that he could have made those – I mean, he could have drawn them, but that's not really his…style."
"You mean it's too clever for him to have thought of?" Teddy asked with amusement.
"I didn't say that," Sam said a little too quickly.
"Well, I didn't do it, and neither did you, so…"
The uneasy feeling that Sam had earlier about Harry returned. Something was off. He remembered the number of times in the last week that Harry had distracted him or kept him away from this part of the Bunker. It just didn't make any sense… "Well, we'll just have to ask him when he gets back."
"And when will that be?"
"I hope tomorrow," Sam said. "Dean knows better than to drive after a bar crawl."
Teddy wasn't so sure that was true, but he shrugged it off. "Well, then, what's for dinner? You know that Jack hasn't ever had Dairy Queen before? We should go get him a Blizzard." Of course, Ted had also been deprived of the ice-cream chain most of his life, but he didn't see any reason to make Jack live without it.
Sam wrinkled his nose in disgust. "That's not very healthy. I bet he's never tried frozen yogurt either and that would be…"
It was Ted's turn to make a face. "Come on, Uncle Sam," he begged.
"Don't think that you can call me 'Uncle,' and get whatever you want," Sam said but he already knew it wasn't true as soon as the words came out of his mouth.
Teddy just made puppy eyes at him that Sam suspected were a copy of his own. "Fine," he said.
"Yes! Jack, he said yes!"
Sam rolled his eyes. He'd have to come back to this later.
III
Behind the door, with a listening charm, Sirius had heard it all. He grinned when he heard that Sam and the boys were going out.
Part of him wished Harry was still here to introduce him to Teddy. He wondered if the boy resembled Tonks or Remus more, but he couldn't wait to find out. He was certainly clever like Remus to figure out what was going on with the wards that kept the two of them out, specifically. He'd have to change some things up to keep them guessing because, even though he was sure that Harry was exaggerating, he didn't want Sam figuring out how to break through the wards.
Once he was sure that everyone had left the Bunker and that he was alone, Sirius snuck out of the area he had been living in. First, he racked his brain to see if he could come up with another rune to describe Harry's younger brother. He had taken Ancient Runes at Hogwarts, of course, but mostly because it was an easy "O" as his tutors had taught him runes alongside as English when he was growing up. He thought of just the right word and laughed to himself as he changed it.
At this point, he knew that the right thing to do would have been to go back behind the wards, where he wouldn't be discovered, but this was the first time that he was getting the chance to explore the Bunker. He could always apparate right outside the door when he heard people coming.
Actually – better than that, he set up a quick alarm ward that he had mastered while pulling pranks in school. It had only worked reliably for about three months of his third year – when McGonagall had figured out that the Marauders had been using it and had issued them detentions when they had forgotten to remove them after a prank. It was crude but it would do the trick.
He started by wandering the gray hallways. This place was depressing. Everything was uniform and sterile. Even some house-elf heads would have livened it up a bit. Sirius was thankful that the wizards that had worked on this place had made their section more interesting.
He found the kitchen and what looked like a war room with a large map table in the center. There was a scimitar on display in the library that he couldn't help but wield briefly, before he cut his arm on it a little bit. With a frown and a quick spell, he healed himself.
There were many books out here too, but Sirius had enough of those to keep him occupied in the part of the Bunker he had to spend his time in, so he disregarded those.
Next, he started looking in the rooms. There were storage rooms, rooms filled with Muggle technology that he did not understand, and even something that resembled a dungeon, which made him shudder. Most interestingly though, were the bedrooms.
There were many of them – around 20 was his final count. But it was pretty quickly obvious which rooms belonged to which resident of the Bunker.
The room with empty beer bottles and a vinyl collection that Sirius couldn't help but envy had to belong to Dean. The two of them had talked in depth about music during their time in Purgatory. It was one of the few things that he had really bonded with the man over. In the drawer of the bedside table, there was a stack of fading photographs. One was of Mary with a young Dean. Pictures of various sorts featuring Sam and other people that Sirius didn't recognize. There was one picture that stood out more than the others. It was a magical photo. Harry and Dean looked slightly younger and engaged in a fight where they flung paint on each other. It made Sirius's heart ache. This was what Harry needed – brothers who would mess with him but still love him. And the look of pride on Dean's face was enough to know that this was a true moment of happiness for both of them. Knowing how important those probably were to Dean, Sirius placed them back carefully. He'd think about what they meant later.
Which meant the stark room with almost nothing on the walls, books on the desk, and papers stacked neatly into trays had to be Sam's. Sirius knew the youngest Winchester the least, but this seemed to fit the personality that Harry had described to him. He didn't have anything on his walls, but through rifling through some of the papers, he had also found some moving pictures, which he wasn't expecting. They were tucked away in an envelope with the name "Sam" written on it by someone who was obviously not the man himself. They were all various scenes of Hogwarts. Sirius swiped them to give them a closer look later.
The boys' rooms were also obvious. Teddy had covered his walls in colorful, moving posters. Including several that had to be of his favorite Quidditch team, Holyhead Harpies. (There was no accounting for bad taste, Sirius thought, still having a preference for Puddlemere United.) One of the posters particularly stood out – it was signed, and on it was a familiar looking beautiful red-haired woman, with a chaser bat in her hands. It was Ginny Weasley! It looked like this was hers from the National Team. Sirius was impressed. Harry had failed to mention she was on the National Team. Come to think of it, Harry hadn't mentioned her much at all.
Teddy's walls were also plastered with moving wizarding photographs that Sirius very much enjoyed looking at. A group of Hogwarts students, all clad in Hufflepuff yellow and black. The young man standing with various kids with shockingly red hair, whom Sirius had to assume were all Weasleys.
He noted where Harry's room was and decided to skip it to give his godson privacy.
Of course, he had spent time in Jack's room, so he hadn't need to snoop as much in there. Plus, he wasn't sure what the powerful young man would be able to sense and he didn't want to risk getting on his bad side.
Sirius didn't know how much time he had left, but he was sure as hell going to use it to cause some mischief. He wasn't a Marauder for nothing, was he?
He knew that he had to be careful, but he loved to think of the confusion on the Winchester's faces, so he went with both Muggle and wizard pranks.
He switched the salt and sugar with a quick flick of his wand. He vanished all the coffee and made sure that there was only loose-leaf tea available. (As was only proper.) He resized all the cups so they were half their normal size and threw a quick notice-me-not so that, hopefully, the drinker wouldn't notice until the cup was overflowing or they finished their drink just a little too quickly. Finishing up in the kitchen, he cast a charm that anyone who opened a beer or a soda would have it burst open and spill as if it had been shaken just before.
All of this was amateur hour, of course. He wanted to slightly inconvenience those who lived here so as to not bring too much suspicion. He was hoping the brothers would blame each other for most of it.
The alarm that he set was tripped while he was putting some finishing touches on the shared bathrooms and showers. He cursed to himself, having not gotten to the bedrooms yet. He had some really fun ideas for those.
But as the voices rang, he quickly and carefully slid back into his section of the Bunker. That was fun, he thought. He couldn't wait to hear about it later.
III
For the first part of the evening, it felt like old times. When he and Dean were living in the same neighborhood, raising children together, and drowning their trauma and sadness in a drink. Of course, now two beers and a finger of whiskey were enough to make Harry tipsy, when, before, he would have been able to drink that much in under twenty minutes and not feel a thing.
They laughed and remembered and, for just a little bit, all the tension that had built up around their relationship – Castiel and Sirius and self-sacrificing, didn't exist. At least, for Harry, it felt that way.
But Dean had more in mind than a fun night out at the bar.
He had always known that the world was dark, but with the recent losses they had suffered, the inky blackness had clouded his vision and nearly pulled him under. The anger and frustration and total devastation sometimes came out in shouting matches with his brothers. Other times, numbness scared him into thinking that he would never feel anything ever again.
Dean couldn't handle another loss. He couldn't. It would either lead to him working himself to death or turning into the sort of monster he hunted.
Molly had made him aware of the thin line that his middle brother was skating on. From the outside, it looked like Harry was doing fine. Even without his powers, there was an air of confidence and ease around him that would have fooled just about anyone.
But not him. Not anymore. Never again.
Dean knew that he would be able to pull himself from this dark place, eventually. He'd been here before.
He wasn't sure that Harry could. And he wasn't willing to risk it.
"Why don't we get a table?" He asked Harry, who raised an eyebrow but agreed. This was too serious of a conversation to have surrounded by others. Dean flagged down the hostess and got them a booth in a quiet corner of the bar.
When they got there, Dean downed the double he had just ordered and worked up the courage to speak. He'd almost prefer to face Lucifer again than have this conversation. But he would do whatever it took.
"Harry, I want – no, I need…" You can do this Winchester, he thought, "I need to apologize."
Whatever Harry had been expecting when they had moved back here, it wasn't that. The serious tenor of Dean's voice made him tense, so he tried to play it off as a joke. "What for? Tricking me into an evening out? It's hardly the first time and I doubt it'll be the last."
Dean shook his head. "No. Not that."
Harry waited.
Dean took a deep breath. "I need to apologize for what happened when you…when you died."
"Oh, come on, Dean, we've been over this, I don't blame you…"
"No, let me get this out," he growled. "I know you don't blame me. That's the problem. You should. You should blame me and Sam and Castiel and hell – the sons of bitches that took you away from your true family – twice, and Chuck for forcing you to live the life you've lived."
Harry sighed. "You know…"
"I know," Dean interrupted, "that you turn all that anger inward. And I know because I have the same god-damned genetics and shitty coping mechanisms."
"You had a tough childhood too and…"
"Fuck Harry, just let me talk." This wasn't going well. Harry opened his mouth to argue but closed it again.
"It's not just what happened when you – when you died. It's everything after. When you got back we should've slowed down. We should've, I don't know, stowed our crap for a little bit, and talked, like human beings. Instead, we… not we, I treated you not like a brother."
Harry didn't know what to say.
"Molly told me…" Dean couldn't finish that sentence.
"What did Molly tell you?"
"Lots of things. Things I didn't want to hear, mostly."
Harry laughed dryly. "That's her specialty." He finished the beer he had been sipping on. "But give it to me."
"She said – and rightly so, she said that you see yourself as a weapon that needs to prove yourself to…to…"
"To what?"
"I'm getting to that," Dean needed another drink. He couldn't believe what he was about to say, "to feel worthy of lo..." he couldn't quite make the word come out, it was just so god-damned cheesy. He cleared his throat, "To feel worthy of being a part of this family. And I didn't let myself believe that until – well until you asked me to teach you how to shoot a gun."
"I asked you to teach me how to shoot a gun because I want to contribute."
"Yeah, I got that. But you don't have to."
"Contribute? What? You expect me to just sit around the Bunker all day? Playing house instead of being out there, helping you and Sam? Instead of helping to get Mom back? Instead of being…"
"This isn't about what I expect," Dean said, feeling like this conversation had gone off the rails. "This is about making you understand that you have a place in this family. No matter what. No questions asked. No matter what powers you do or do not have. No matter what your ability to shoot a gun is. No matter if you live with us or return to England."
Harry scoffed. "Right. You two really want me around when I'm of no use? I'm deadweight. A burden – someone you have to protect like Jack. Of course, I want more than that."
"Yeah, I get that," Dean said. "But you don't have to."
"Come on, really, because…"
"No, man," Dean wasn't going to let him finish that sentence. "Harry, we need you for you. We don't want to lose you again. We can't. Not after…"
Harry looked down. "She's not gone," he said in barely a whisper. He refused to accept that until he saw her dead body himself.
Dean shook his head. He didn't want to argue about that now. In his heart, he knew their mother was gone and that he needed to keep the family that he had left. It had taken him time to truly process what Molly had said, but he was going to do this right. He waved Harry's comment off. "That's not what I'm trying to talk to you about. Look, it's our fault that you are…well that you are the way you are now. What kind of shitty brothers would we be to cast you out because of something we did."
Harry didn't say anything and the sinking in Dean's stomach went lower. Molly had been right.
"That's something else I gotta apologize for," he said. "We…I shouldn't have gone along with it, but you were…" he didn't finish the sentence. But when they rescued Harry from that terrible place, he thought that they were going to have to watch him die. "You scared the crap out of us."
Harry snorted. "I've survived a lot worse."
"Have you? You didn't survive the last time when it counted," Dean shot back at him. "You couldn't see yourself. You looked like death before the little stunt…" he stopped himself. That wasn't useful. "In any case, it seemed like the only solution at the time. But there's always another way."
Harry just shrugged that off. Honestly, he thought, maybe it'd be better if I just returned to England and let Sam and Dean be. He didn't dare say that. "Well, now you've got yourself a useless brother, cheers, mate," he raised his empty beer bottle.
"You are not useless," Dean slammed his glass down, causing people in the bar to stop for a second and stare at them.
"It sure as hell feels like it."
Dean was floundering for words. He wasn't equipped for this. He should've had Sam… he stopped that thought. No. This is your mess, Winchester. Clean it up.
"Then some things gotta change," Dean said. "You picked up using a gun faster than I could've ever thought. You're not sick anymore, if you want, we can teach you more. You can't cheat at hand-to-hand combat anymore, but you already know the basics."
"I didn't cheat," Harry said, smiling a little, despite himself.
"Uh huh, sure," Dean said. "Well, now I'll know that for a fact, won't I?"
"I suppose."
Dean thought he was almost there. But he was going to go in one more time. "Harry, man, you've got to know that family is what is most important, at the end of the day. To Sam and me. It doesn't matter – it doesn't matter what you are. You're our brother and we're not going to let you die. Not again. And you ain't got to prove nothing or be useful or be a big, powerful, Angel of Whatever, just… you've gotta be here. You just have to keep going. That's enough."
That cut deeper than Harry expected. Dean was getting to anxieties so deep that Harry rarely allowed himself to think of them. To his horror, he began to feel tears form in his eyes.
Dean could see that. "I'll go get us another round, yeah?"
"That'd be good," Harry managed to choke out. Dean stood up. "And Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
Dean smiled. "You're welcome."
"And you better make that a double."
Dean mocked saluted him and said, "You got it," before walking off to give Harry a little bit of privacy.
So, I know I said last week that the plot was beginning to roll out, but I realized that I needed this chapter where we kind of see a little bit of evolution and growth in the brothers' relationship. Especially since I skipped the therapist episode! I'm actually really pleased with it.
The little game that they play (slapping Sam on the head and then hitting his stomach) is inspired by the sort of play fight I play with my brother and sister. (Especially since my brother is six foot four to my five foot two.)
I spent a long time trying to decide what Sam's Patronus would be. I kind of love it, even though it's cheesy. I feel like it's the perfect representation of both his brothers.
Thank you, thank you, thank you to all reviewers, commenters, and lurkers. Please keep reading – even though I am about to go away for a month! I promise I'll be back. I've always known how this fic would end, but I think I've now mostly figured out how I'm going to get there.
See y'all next week!
