The Madness of Mr Crouch

John spent all of Sunday in bed, too shaky to move much. Sherlock brought him food and water, and wandered about the room thinking to himself.

'What?' John whispered, his voice all but gone, as Sherlock made his third lap of the room.

'Why wouldn't Trelawney just repair the crystal ball?' he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

'Is that really what you're thinking about right now?' John croaked incredulously.

'It just doesn't make any sense.'

'Nothing about anything currently makes sense.' John massaged his throat. 'Are you sure there's nothing Cas can do about this?'

'I sent a first year to get him. He should be here soon.'

In the meantime, John drained his cup of water, wincing with every swallow.

By the time Cas arrived, he'd managed to push himself into a sitting position.

'Try this,' Cas said, passing John a watery silver potion, before sitting on the edge of the bed and examining him. 'How are you feeling today?'

'Weak,' John admitted, then downing the potion.

Cas ran his wand over John, muttering under his breath.

The potion instantly soothed John's throat as he swallowed it. 'Wow, thank you.' His voice was still quiet and croaky, but it didn't hurt anymore.

'I don't think I can help with anything else,' Cas said thoughtfully. 'It all appears to be connected.'

John shrugged. 'It was worth a go.' He looked into Cas's face. It was worn and sombre as usual, and before he could stop himself, he reached out to touch his hand. White light filled his vision, backed by an almost unbearable sadness.

Cas yanked his hand away. 'Don't do that again,' he growled before running out of the room.

'Sherlock-'

'I'll get him.' Sherlock chased after Cas.

Soon, John felt a tickle in his mind and followed it until he found Sherlock and Castiel.

'He didn't see anything,' John heard Sherlock say. 'It's all right, Cas.'

Cas didn't look all right. It was hard for John to focus in his current state, but from what he could tell, the colour had drained from Cas's face.

'I can't let him see-'

'See what?'

'My secrets are my own, Sherlock,' Cas said firmly.

Sherlock nodded. 'I understand, but he can't control what he sees.'

'He can control whether or not he touches me. I don't like to be touched.'

Tell him I'm sorry, John sent to Sherlock. Then he saw the chaotic, white aura rising around Cas. Tell him Gabriel's in the library. Exhaustion finally forced him to let it go, and he fell back against his pillows, having lost what strength he'd gained back.

'You shouldn't have done that,' Sherlock said when he returned.

John merely shrugged.

'I'm going to get dinner, do you want me to bring you some.'

'Why even ask? You already know.'

'It's polite to ask.'

'Since when do you care about being polite?'

Sherlock just sighed and left again.

John groaned to himself, only realising once Sherlock was gone that he was being a touch grouchy.

He napped through dinner, but woke up when the other Gryffindor boys began getting ready for bed. Sherlock was there too, throwing some food into Dolly's tank. He rolled over and nearly jumped out of bed when Trevor croaked loudly in his face.

'Sorry!' Neville said, hastily coming over to grab the toad.

'Neville-' John stopped, pain blooming in his chest when he saw Neville. The same vision of a couple and the four shadowy figures floated past him. He shoved it away as hard as he could, but not enough to stop the terrible spasms. He was crying when it went away, and all the other boys but Neville were pointedly not looking at him, and talking quietly to each other.

John looked up at Neville and suddenly he knew who the couple in his vision were.

Neville seemed to understand what had just happened, and he aggressively shook his head, looking more than a little ill. He crossed the room back to his own bed and drew the curtains.

Sherlock did the same with the curtains on John's bed and climbed in next to him. John didn't say anything else, he just pressed himself against Sherlock and cried silently until he fell asleep again.

Much to Sherlock's dismay, John forced himself down to breakfast the next morning. His voice was still all but gone, but he was determined to get himself through the day.

'It's an easy day,' he tried to reassure Sherlock, but his hoarse, cracked voice did nothing to help things. 'Molly will help me in Herbology, and later is Magical Creatures.'

'You seem awfully confident that Magical Creatures is going to be an easy lesson.'

'Why wouldn't it be? There are no more Skrewts.' Despite his assurances to Sherlock, he wasn't quite able to stomach more than a few mouthfuls of food.

Castiel was conspicuously missing from the Hall, as was Gabriel, a fact that was not lost on either Sherlock or John, or Dean when he came down, scanning the room while he shovelled bacon into his mouth.

Hundreds of owls flew threw the Hall half way through breakfast, and Hermione looked up eagerly.

'I've taken out a subscription to the Daily Prophet,' she said at John's questioning look. 'I was getting tired of having to find everything out from the Slytherins.'

'You found some things out from me,' John croaked.

'Right, but this way is easier.'

'Looks like you've got one,' Ron said, pointing up at a grey owl soaring towards them.

'But it doesn't have a newspaper,' Hermione frowned.

The grey owl landed in front of her, closely followed by four barn owls, a brown owl and a tawny, all of whom were jostling close to her trying to deliver their letters first.

'Oh, really!' Hermione spluttered, opening the letter from the grey owl. 'It's - oh, how ridiculous-' She thrust the letter at Harry, which John reached over and grabbed from him. It was not handwritten, but composed from pasted letters that seemed to have been cut from the Daily Prophet.

You are a WickEd giRL. HaRRy PottEr desErves BetteR. gO Back to wherE you cAME from mUggle.

It took a moment for the emotions to filter through, since the note was not handwritten, but John put the letter down when he felt a certain instability from it. A vaguely threatening energy emanated from the rest of the letters, especially from the one Hermione was about to pick up.

'Don't!' he said as loudly as he could, but it was too late.

A yellowish green liquid that smelled strongly of petrol gushed out of the envelope over her hands.

'Undiluted Bubotuber pus!' Ron said, gingerly picking up the envelope.

'Ow!' said Hermione, tears pricking at her eyes. She tried to wipe it off with a napkin, but there were already so many sores all over her fingers that she looked as though she were wearing a pair of particularly knobbly gloves.

'You'd better get up to the hospital wing,' Harry said. 'We'll tell Professor Sprout where you've gone.'

Hermione ran out of the room, and John rested his head in his hands.

'Are you sure you want to do this?' Sherlock said.

'Yes,' John said in what was meant to be a firm voice, but came out as more of a cracked whisper. 'I just need this to stop being so… constant.'

'I'm not sure if that will happen.'

'Well, I can always hope.'

Sherlock smiled uncertainly.

'Better go,' John said as the others got to their feet. 'See you later.' He gave Sherlock a quick peck then followed the others out, albeit slightly shakily.

Hermione didn't turn up for Herbology, and John relied on Molly heavily as his energy waned. It was all he could do to walk down to Hagrid's hut, and sit down in front of it with a thump.

You can stop he heard Sherlock whisper in the back of his mind. He was too tired to send anything back, but he wanted to stay.

Hagrid had set crates out around his hut, and inside were a number of fluffy black creatures with long snouts. Their front paws were curiously flat, like spades, and they were blinking up at the class, looking politely puzzled at all the attention.

'These're Nifflers,' said Hagrid, when the class had gathered around. 'Yeh find 'em down mines mostly. They like sparkly stuff… there yeh go, look.'

One of the Nifflers had suddenly leapt up and attempted to bite Pansy Parkinson's watch off her wrist. She shrieked and jumped backwards.

'Useful little treasure detectors,' said Hagrid happily. 'Thought we'd have some fun with 'em today. See over there?' He pointed at the large patch of freshly turned earth he had dug. 'I've buried some gold coins. I've got a prize fer whoever picks the Niffler that digs up the most. Jus' take off all yer valuables, an' choose a Niffler an' get ready ter set 'em loose.'

John picked one up and was strangely comforted by the small, fluffy animal.

It was nice to relax and just watch the Nifflers diving in and out of the mound of earth. Ron's Niffler seemed to be the most efficient, running back and forth, and spitting gold coins out into his lap.

Hermione returned towards the end of the lesson and, surprisingly, bringing Sherlock with her.

Hagrid gave him a quizzical look, but in the end just left him to it.

He said down beside John and held his hand.

'I'm all right,' John mumbled, barely coherently.

'Of course,' Sherlock said soothingly.

John leaned his head on Sherlock's shoulder. 'Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.'

'Perhaps not.'

'What are you doing here? Did you leave Transfiguration?'

Sherlock nodded.

'Bet McGonagall loved that.'

'I didn't give her the chance to say otherwise.'

They sat together for a while longer, while Hagrid awarded Ron his prize, which turned out to be a large slab of Honeydukes chocolate.

'Do you want to go back up to the castle?' Sherlock asked eventually.

John sighed. 'Yes.'

Sherlock quickly told Hagrid that they were leaving, then accompanied John back across the grounds.

They bumped into Cas and Gabriel along the way, Cas looking almost as tired as John felt.

'I won't ask if you don't,' Gabriel said, hovering protectively.

'Seems fair to me,' said Sherlock, and they went their separate ways.

John decided to give himself some rest that week, though Hermione kept him up to date on his homework. He did make sure that he went down for meals, just so that he wouldn't go stir crazy sitting around in Gryffindor Tower all day.

Hermione continued to receive hate mail every day. She threw most of them away, but there was nothing she could do about the Howlers that exploded at the table. This unfortunately had the added effect of, once again, driving Castiel away from the Hall.

Their workload mounted ever higher in the run up to the Easter holidays and John struggled to keep up. Sherlock didn't bother, as usual, and instead began giving John his best 'I'm bored' pouts when John insisted on spending his free time in the library. When they did catch glimpses of Castiel, it was in the library, but he always had a glazed over look in his eyes. He and Gabriel disappeared home for Easter, leaving Dean to become extremely agitated in the meantime.

Mrs Weasley sent them all Easter eggs towards the end of the holidays, which John happily ate.

There had been no major incident so far, and he was starting to feel almost normal, until Castiel returned to the castle.

John was on his way to the library, dragging Dean with him and insisting that Dean do some homework. 'You've got your O. W. Ls, Dean,' he said.

'Yeah, and so far, you're the only one that gives a crap,' Dean complained.

'Hermione would skin you alive if she knew you hadn't been studying, and you know it. You're just lucky I haven't told her.'

Dean snorted. 'Please, you're only doing this because Sherlock won't come with you anymore and now you can't have your secret makeout sessions in the Restricted Section.'

John's face heated.

'I gotta tell you, John, I'm not really in the market for secret makeouts, so-'

'Shut up,' John snapped. 'I'm only trying to help you, but if you're insisting on being a reckless idiot, feel free to go back down to Katie Bell and pretending to do your homework.'

'First of all, I don't hang out with Katie anymore,' Dean said, folding his arms. 'Second of all, my whole personality is being a reckless idiot, and that's exactly how I like it, thank you.'

'You don't hang out with Katie anymore? Why not?'

Dean shrugged. 'It didn't work out. No big deal.'

'Oh, I'm sorry.'

'Like I said, no big deal. Are we going to the library, or what?' Dean walked ahead, and John smirked behind his back.

They got no further than a few steps, however, when they came across Cas and Gabriel, on their way to the hospital wing judging by the look on their faces, and they grey pallor to Cas's skin.

John took one look at him and swayed violently.

Dean grabbed him to stop him from falling, and looked to Cas for help.

Cas took a step towards them, but Gabriel stopped him with a hand to the shoulder. Cas hesitated for a moment, then pulled away from Gabriel.

Gabriel opened his mouth to protest, but Cas shook his head.

Dean held John up while Cas ran his wand over them. 'Cas?'

Cas ignored him and continued to examine John.

'You don't look so good, dude,' Dean continued.

Cas put away his wand, seemingly satisfied with John's condition, then went back to Gabriel without a word.

'I'm fine, by the way,' John said grumpily, extricating himself from Dean's grip. He too had turned slightly grey.

'Did you see anything?'

'No. Cas is… he's sort of blurry?'

'Blurry? What does that even mean?'

John groaned and held his stomach. 'I don't know. All I know is that it feels awful to look at him right now.'

Dean bit his lip. 'I guess we're not going to the library, then.'

'Congrats. You win,' John said grimly, pulling himself together.

During May, John continued to try and fight past the curse on his visions, but the barrier seemed as impenetrable as it had been all year. He went up the the North tower twice more to look at crystal balls. Though he was still drawn to them, every time he picked one up, the energy from it made it almost impossible to keep a good grip on it. A far cry from how easy it had been to see shapes inside the year before, when they had been studying the crystal ball in Divination.

'I think it's the curse,' John said to Sherlock, as they were walking around the lake one afternoon. 'The crystal is trying to tell me something, but the curse won't let it.'

'That sounds just ridiculous enough to be true,' Sherlock said, squinting into the water for signs of Kelpies.

'Do you have any better ideas?'

'We just don't know the nature of this curse. What does it do exactly?'

'Find the caster for me and I'll ask them myself.' John regretted letting it come out so sharply when Sherlock's mouth tightened. He had had as little luck as John in discovering who was doing this to them.

At the end of the month, Harry was called down to the Quidditch pitch with the rest of the champions, to find out what the final task would be.

John had been twitchy that day, but he couldn't see why, so he decided to wait for Harry to come back to the common room before he would make his next step.

Dean was not so patient, and instead went to track down Castiel, who had spent the month avoiding them all. He wasn't in the hospital wing or Ravenclaw Tower, but it was a warm evening, so he went out into the grounds and down to Hagrid's hut.

He found Cas sitting outside, barefoot, and paying with the Nifflers. He sat down beside Cas, but waited for him to speak first.

'I like Nifflers,' he said eventually. 'They're fluffy.'

Dean patted a couple of the Nifflers that had come to investigate him. 'They are,' he agreed. 'Cas, you know I'm your friend, right?'

Cas looked up at him, surprised. 'Of course,' he murmured.

'And you know I wouldn't do anything to hurt you?'

Wrinkles creased Cas's forehead. 'Where is this going, Dean?'

'What's going on with you, Cas? You can tell me, I promise.'

Cas looked away and gently picked up one of the Nifflers.

'It'll be all right,' Dean urged. 'Whatever it is, you shouldn't have to deal with it alone.'

'I have Gabriel,' Cas muttered stubbornly.

'You know what I mean, Cas. We're your friends. I'm your friend.' Dean noticed a slight tremor in Cas's hands, and his shoulders tensed tightly. 'Take your time.'

When Cas finally looked back up at Dean, his eyes were wide and fearful, and he took three short breaths before he opened his mouth. 'I-I-' He closed his and steadied his breathing. 'It's-' He was cut off by a shout from the Forest, and Dean leapt to his feet, wand drawn. Cas followed his example and they walked warily towards the voice they had heard.

Cas had been in the Forest before, and though not exactly comfortable with it, was at least familiar with it. 'Lumos,' he muttered.

Dean shielded his eyes, momentarily dazzled by Cas's unusually strong charm. 'It came from around here, somewhere,' Dean muttered.

They stumbled along the edge of the Forest, guided by the light of Cas's wand, until they came across a pair of feet. Cas held his wand higher, and cast the light over the Durmstrang champion Viktor Krum.

'What in the world-?' said Dean.

Cas dropped down next to Krum and ran his wand over Krum's prone form. 'Rennervate,' he said eventually.

Krum opened his eyes. He looked dazed and began mumbling something in Bulgarian.

'I'm sorry, my Bulgarian is limited,' Cas said to him, lowering his wand slightly.

'What are you doing down here?' Dean asked. 'What happened?'

'Here!' They turned around and saw Harry hurrying towards them, accompanied by Professor Dumbledore.

Krum tried to sit up, but Cas made him lie still. 'He attacked me!' Krum said in English when he saw Dumbledore. 'That old madman attacked me! I vos looking around to see vare Potter had gone and he attacked me from behind!'

Dean fought the urge to ask questions, since Dumbledore had the situation in hand.

The sound of thunderous footfalls reached them, and Hagrid came panting into sight with Fang at his heels. He was carrying his crossbow.

'Professor Dumbledore!' he said, his eyes widening. 'What the-?'

'Hagrid, I need you to fetch Professor Karkaroff,' said Dumbledore. 'His student has been attacked. When you've done that, kindly alert Professor Moody-'

'No need, Dumbledore,' said a wheezy growl, 'I'm here.' Moody was limping towards them, leaning on his staff, his wand lit.

Now that enough people had their wands lit, they could see each other clearly, and Dean saw Cas wearing a look of bewilderment that he was sure was echoed on his own face.

'Damn leg,' Moody continued furiously. 'Would have been here quicker… what's happened? Snape said something about Crouch-'

'Crouch?' Hagrid said blankly.

'Karkaroff, please, Hagrid!' said Dumbledore sharply.

'Oh yeah… right y'are, Professor…' said Hagrid, and he turned and disappeared into the dark trees, Fang trotting after him.

'I don't know where Barty Crouch is,' Dumbledore told Moody, 'but it is essential that we find him.'

'I'm onto it,' growled Moody. He pulled out his wand and limped off into the Forest.

Once he was gone, Dean could no longer contain himself. 'Okay, what did we just walk into?'

'What are you two doing down here?' Dumbledore asked, ignoring the question.

'We were visiting Hagrid's Nifflers, and then we heard Viktor yelling, so we came to look,' Dean said.

Dumbledore and Harry didn't say anything else until Hagrid returned with Karkaroff. He was wearing his sleek silver furs, and he looked pale and agitated. Dean couldn't be sure in the low light, but he thought he saw Cas narrow his eyes at Karkaroff.

'What is this?' Karkaroff cried when he saw Krum on the ground. 'What's going on?'

'I vos attacked!' said Krum, sitting up and rubbing his head. 'Mr Crouch-'

'Crouch attacked you? Crouch attacked you? The Triwizard judge?'

'Igor,' Dumbledore began, but Karkaroff had drawn himself up, clutching his furs around him, looking livid.

'Treachery!' he bellowed, pointing at Dumbledore.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Cas back away slightly, and discretely placed himself between Cas and Karkaroff.

'It is a plot! You and your Ministry have lured me here under false pretences, Dumbledore! This is not an equal competition! First you sneak Potter into the competition, though he is undreage! Now one of your Ministry friends attempts to put my champion out of action! I smell double-dealing and corruption in this whole affair, and you, Dumbledore, you, with your talk of closer international wizarding links, of rebuilding old ties, of forgetting old differences - here's what I think of you!'

Karkaroff spat onto the ground at Dumbledore's feet.

Dean bristled, but moved closer to Cas instead of Karkaroff, as he heard Cas inhale sharply.

Then, in one swift movement. Hagrid seized the front of Karkaroff's furs, lifted him into the air, and slammed him into a nearby tree.

'Apologise!' Hagrid snarled, as Karkaroff gasped for breath, his feet dangling in mid-air.

Dean turned to Cas to make sure he was all right.

Cas had his eyes closed and his hands over his ears, but he was breathing rhythmically in the way that Dean had taught him.

'Hagrid, no!' Dumbledore shouted.

Dean looked back over his shoulder to see Hagrid remove his hand and Karkaroff slump to the ground in a heap. He hesitated a moment, then touched Cas on the arm

'It's all right,' he said as Cas jumped. 'It's all right.'

Cas looked around at everyone and lowered his arms.

'Kindly escort these boys back up to the castle, Hagrid,' said Dumbledore sharply.

Hagrid glowered at Karkaroff. 'Maybe I'd better stay here, Headmaster…'

'You will take them back to school, Hagrid,' Dumbledore repeated firmly. 'Take them right up to Gryffindor Tower. I want you all to stay there - unless you need to be elsewhere, Castiel?' Dumbledore gave Cas a meaningful look.

'No, sir,' Cas whispered, shaking his head but avoiding Dumbledore's eyes.

'Good. Tell Sherlock that he is to stay there tonight as well. Anything you might want to do - any owls you might want to send - they can wait until morning, do you understand me?'

'Er - yes,' said Harry.

'I'll leave Fang with yeh, Headmaster,' Hagrid said, still staring menacingly at Karkaroff. 'Stay, Fang.'

Hagrid lead the way with Harry, and Cas and Dean fell slightly behind.

'Are you okay?' Dean whispered to Cas.

'I think so,' he whispered back.

'You did really great.'

'Thank you.'

Dean grinned. 'Your Bulgarian is limited?' he said, sniggering.

'Yes,' Cas said. 'I don't understand the joke.'

'How many languages do you speak?'

'I'm fluent in only English and French,' Cas said.

'Oh, only.'

'I also know a fair amount of Welsh.'

'Welsh? Is that even a language?'

'Yes, it's a language. I live in Wales, it doesn't hurt to know a little of the language.'

'Say something in Welsh.'

'Dean, please.'

Dean just laughed.

Hagrid finally spoke as they strode past the lake. 'How dare he,' he growled. 'How dare he accuse Dumbledore. Like Dumbledore'd do anythin' like that. Like Dumbledore wanted you in the Tournament in the firs' place. Worried! I dunno when I seen Dumbledore more worried than he's bin lately. An' you!' Hagrid said suddenly angrily to Harry, who looked up at him, taken aback. 'What were yeh doin', wanderin' off with ruddy Krum? He's from Durmstrang, Harry! Coulda jinxed yeh right there, couldn' he? Hasn' Moody taught yeh nothin'? 'Magine lettin' him lure yeh off on yer own-'

'Krum's all right!' said Harry, as the climbed the steps into the Entrance Hall. 'He wasn't trying to jinx me, he just wanted to talk about Hermione-'

'I'll be havin' a few words with her, an' all,' said Hagrid, stomping up the stairs. 'The less you lot 'ave ter do with these foreigners, the happier yeh'll be. Yeh can't trust any of 'em.'

'Whoa, whoa, uh, hello?' Dean said, he and Cas stopping in their tracks.

'Excuse me?' said Cas, folding his arms.

Hagrid at least had the sense to look abashed, but did not apologise.

'You know what, Hagrid, I think we're good here. You can just go back to your hut.'

'But-'

'No, really, we foreigners don't need your help. Come on, Cas.' Dean stalked away with Cas, leaving Harry and Hagrid behind at the bottom of the marble staircase.

'Dean?' Cas murmured.

'What?' Dean snapped, regretting it immediately. 'Sorry.'

'Are you all right?'

Dean snorted. 'Shouldn't I be asking you that?'

'Dean.'

Dean stopped and sighed. 'I dont know, it's just hard, I guess. I never really feel like I belong here, you know?'

Cas gave him a sympathetic look.

'It's all right for you, you've got citizenship. They're stuck with you. I was all set to go to Ilvermorny. I had the uniform and everything, but then my dad decided I was coming here.'

'I'm sorry, Dean.'

'People think I don't see the looks they give me…' Dean shook his head.

'I understand. I see them too.'

'But hey, if I'd gone to Ilvermorny, I wouldn't have met you.'

'That's very nice of you, Dean.'

'Yeah, and who else would I get to make fun of for knowing Welsh?'

Cas rolled his eyes and followed Dean up to Gryffindor Tower.

As Dumbledore had suspected, Sherlock was already there, with John, Hermione, and Ron.

'Where's Harry?' Ron asked.

Before Dean could answer, Harry climbed through the portrait hole.

'There you are,' Dean said. 'Now can you tell us what the hell is going on?'

Harry sat down on the sofa in front of the fire.

'The third task is a maze,' he began. 'That's what they needed the Quidditch pitch for. It's going to have obstacles and things, and the first one to the Cup wins.'

Dean's face lit up. 'What kind of obstacles?'

Harry shrugged. 'Bagman said Hagrid would be lending them some creatures, and there would be spells in place.'

'Dude, I can totally help you with that. I know lots of defensive spells.'

Harry smiled. 'As long as they keep me alive, I'll take anything I can get.'

'Then what?' Dean said. 'What happened in the Forest?'

'I was just talking to Krum and Mr Crouch just appeared out of the Forest, but he was acting really weird. He didn't know where he was and he kept talking like Percy was there. But he would switch and say something about warning Dumbledore, and he mentioned his son, and Bertha Jorkins.'

John, who had been leaning against the back of the sofa, grunted as though he had been kicked, and his fists curled up. 'I'm fine,' he forced out. 'Carry on.'

'So I left him with Krum to go and get Dumbledore, and I ran into Snape-'

Ron groaned dramatically.

'Let me guess, he did his Snape thing?' said Dean

'Obviously,' Harry frowned. 'But then Dumbledore came down and I brought him to the Forest, which is when we found you two and Krum.'

'He was already passed out when we got there,' Dean told the rest of them. 'We heard him get attacked, but we didn't see who did it.'

'You said he mentioned his son?' Sherlock said. 'John?'

'It's blocked,' John said. 'That's weird. Why would Mr Crouch be hidden from me?'

'That makes all the tasks, that - thing - you saw the other day, and Mr Crouch,' Sherlock said, mostly to himself. 'What's the connection?'

'Whoever attacked Mr Crouch and Viktor is whoever put Harry's name in the Goblet,' Hermione reasoned.

They all continued to discuss what had happened, but Dean saw Cas shrink into a shadowy corner of the room.

'I'm pretty sure I could sneak you outta here,' Dean said, coming over to him.

'That won't be necessary. I won't sleep tonight anyway.'

'All right. I'll stay up with you.' Dean conjured them both a blanket each, and sat with him.

'You can't do that, we have classes tomorrow.'

Dean shrugged. 'So I'll fall asleep in History of Magic, what else is new?'

Cas frowned, but didn't argue any further.

Welcome back everyone! Thanks to Morgan Teri Befan, VegasGranny, DaughterofMagic3 and Morgause Pendragon for the reviews :) see you again next time!