Author's notes: this is a bit of a filler chapter. It is needed to explain much of the plot later on concerning Sam and Dean, however it means there isn't much Harry. Next chapter will make up for it, I promise so bear with me and don't skip.

Warnings: none. Unbeta'd so please no comments on mistakes as they will be corrected.

--00— Chapter Three—00--

Metamorphosis

The thought was like poison.

Once the question of Harry's origins was placed into his head, Dean couldn't let it go. It wormed and burrowed until he spent the nights lying awake and running over every encounter he had ever had with the angel, trying to find some vital clue that he had been too stupid to notice the first time.

Sam didn't help, he was already wrapped around Ruby's little finger and was leading a campaign against Harry and Castiel that was making more and more sense the more Dean listened. "What if the angels aren't real? What if this, Harry is just playing us all? Who would ever suspect an angel?"

"Bobby knew and trusted Harry," Dean responded but knew even before Sam replied that anyone could make mistakes, even Bobby.

"It's been... How many years since Bobby has seen him? Anything could have happened. He could be possessed by a demon," Sam gestured wildly and Dean wondered how Sam could use that excuse when he was playing nice with his own demon-bitch.

"He's not a demon; the devil traps didn't hold him."

"Well something else then." Sam sighed and slumped on the motel bed, his eyes bright with conviction behind the too long strands of his hair "Just... maybe we should check into him and Castiel before we accept anything they say"

Dean's jaw tightened and he glanced over at his baby brother and at the familiar, intelligent exasperation lining Sam's features and didn't recognise him at all. "This doesn't mean that what you are doing is right."

Sam stared up at him, hard eyed and full of stubborn conviction and irritation. The smear of his mouth narrowed and Dean wasn't sure he was ready for his brother's reply.

Dean was glad when the phone rang to interrupt their conversation.

--00—

When Dean was twelve he had figured out how to identify a hunter half a mile away with a single glance at their faces.

His certainty was because of the odd expression they all had, it was a look full of dark, angry humour and nearly overwhelming weariness. It made their faces sharper and their skin quicker to line. It made them rougher and their eyes hard, as if their emotions were slipping away overwhelmed by their dogged determination to kill instead of be killed. It was a look that only prostitutes, veterans and hunters had and Travis was the original poster child for it.

"Dean!"

"I told we should have hid the beer" Dean murmured over his shoulder as they stepped into the motel room. Travis's worn, grizzled face folded up into a smile of yellow teeth and sincere amusement and he lumbered off the chair and grabbed at Dean, enfolding the younger man in a bear hug that smelt of beer and cigars and old blood. The man had barely changed since the last time Dean had seen him and he breathed in the man's smell, his chest hurting at the memories of his childhood and his father that flooded his mind.

"Ah good to see you" Travis grinned slapping Dean on the back once more before grabbing at Sam as well. His brother looked like a rake, all unfinished limbs in the circle of Travis' arms and he grinned awkwardly into the pepper and salt hair of the older hunter.

"Gees, you got tall kid," Travis laughed at Sam and looked between them, his face full of memories and that odd combination of pride and sorrow that Dean had seen on Bobby's face every time they had staggered back to his after a close call with some evil creature. "John would have been proud of you. Sticking together like this"

Both of them winched at that, "Yeah we're thick as thieves," Dean said softly but his biting remark wasn't quite as harsh as it probably would have been if the question of Harry and Castiel hadn't been so heavy between them.

Travis, oblivious to the rising tension, lowered himself into the motel chair once again, gesturing at them to sit next to him even as he resumed drinking their beer.

"Thanks for helping out an old man. I'm a little short handed" he grinned darkly over the damp rim of the beer, gesturing at his cast encased arm. No one asked how it had happened and if Dean had thought about that more, the very fact Sam didn't say anything would have depressed him. He had grown pretty adept at ignoring a lot of things Sam did or didn't do now.

"So what are we hunting?" Sam asked, hunching over the table.

"Boys, we got a rougarou on our hands"

"A rougarou? Is that made up," Dean frowned, trying to control the slight amused twitch that was threatening the corners of his mouth as he glanced over at Sam's subtle expression of disbelief. "He's making that up."

Travis sucked at the beer bottle and rolled his eyes "I'm not. They're mean, nasty little suckers, the works. Start out human for all intents and purposes; but they get ugly soon enough."

Sam's wide eyed expression had narrowed and shortened and his eyes were sharp and uncomfortable as he listened to Travis, shifting so much that he brushed up against Dean nervously. "So what they go through a kind of metamorphosis?"

"Yep, like a maggot turning into a bull-fly. But most of all they're hungry" Travis titled the beer bottle back into the wrinkled line of his mouth. "For mostly anything at first... but then they want the long pig and after that first bite, there's no coming back"

"Long pig?" Dean could have guessed what Travis was referring but he found his mouth ran with his thoughts and looking at the crinkled disgust spreading across Sam's face was enough for him to wait for an answer.

"He means human flesh"

"And that is my word of the day"

--00—

He always went back to Bobby in the end.

Before his Dad had died, John had held pretty much the same infallible position that Bobby now occupied in his mind, except maybe with more fear. But now Bobby was his first stop and it probably said a lot about how hesitant he was when it came to angels and Harry that it took him so long to call.

"Bobby?"

Bobby's drawling voice crackled awkwardly over his mobile and Dean sighed and lumbered across the motel room trying to get a better signal.

"Is everything okay Dean?"

"Yeah, it's great. We're hunting a long pig craving rougarou" Dean joked half-heartedly. Even if he wasn't feeling the jokes too much himself lately, he was pretty sure it was important to keep them up, even if he was less sure exactly why.

"Boy, I have no idea what the hell you just said" Bobby sighed and there was an odd scuffling background noise. "Is Sam there with you?"

"Yeah, he's gone researching or something" Dean paused and his lips suddenly felt dry as he waited, "Bobby, I need to know about Harry"

The phone buzzed with Bobby's silence and Dean waited, listening to the rhythm of the older man's breathing and hoping he hadn't pushed him too far with this one.

"He was a good kid, one of the best. He had this really odd British accent and he used to have nightmares, screamed about green lights and red eyes. His back was a map of scars but the only one he ever noticed was the small lightning bolt on his forehead" Bobby trailed off and Dean could hear the misery in his silence. He closed his eyes at the older man's pain, rubbing at his forehead wearily, sometimes it felt like everyone was unravelling too fast all around him.

"Look Dean, I don't really know who he was, he never said anything about where he came from and I never asked, but he was a good kid, a good person. Now what's this all about?"

Dean didn't have any great skill with language, he couldn't make people tell him everything without asking and he didn't have Sam's big, sympathetic eyes or his mumbling sincerity. But as he asked the next question he wished, not for the first time, he did. "Is he human?"

"Excuse me?"

"Bobby, is he human?" Dean demanded, desperate for the conversation to end. "A demon mentioned him being something we should hunt..."

"Yes because of course demons never lie!" Bobby snarled and there were more violent noises that echoed angrily through his mobile. "Dean I love you and Sam but I swear if you harm one hair on that boy's head, I'll..."

"We won't hurt him, I just need to know."

There was a pause, a pause that that told Dean everything that he knew Bobby would be unwilling to tell him. "Never mind Bobby"

"Dean." Bobby interrupted hastily before he could hang up, his accent heavy on his vowels as he spoke. "I know what you're thinking, but leave it. He's a good person, he's not evil or a demon or anything like that."

"I won't hurt him" Dean repeated and there was enough sincerity in his words that he hoped he wouldn't have to go against his word.

"Your Daddy said that too."

It was Bobby that hung up.

--00--

Sam was pouting again.

Or rather he was staring blankly out the front of the impala, turned slightly away from Dean as if he blamed him for the need to burn the rougarou alive, or rather the man Jack.

He knew Sam wasn't comfortable with the rougarou situation, especially since their intended victim was still an ordinary man for all intents and purposes. Not that Dean doubted he was wouldn't change, Travis had said they always changed and as much as Sam might hope he didn't, Dean wasn't prepared to let a monster go on the rampage because of only hope. Just because Sam saw himself mirrored in this situation didn't mean they could just wait until some innocent bystanders were eaten by the monster and Dean was starting to get angry that Sam couldn't distinguish the difference.

He tried not to tell himself he was seeing too much difference.

"Maybe he can fight it off" Sam said sharply, turning to burn holes into Dean with the intensity of his gaze.

"Yeah and maybe he can't" Dean retorted softly, not bothering to glance over. Sam hated being ignored and dismissed; it was a trick their father used to pull. But he couldn't make himself look at his brother at the moment, there was too much worry and confusion churning up inside him and Sam's anger never helped. "You sure you aren't letting your emotions get in the way here"

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, except it wasn't actually a question, more like he was daring Dean to continue.

Dean shrugged, rolling his shoulder beneath the worn material of his jacket, "You know, nice dude, but he's got something evil inside of him. Something in his blood, maybe you can relate" he finally turned to stare at Sam and wasn't surprised by the mixture of anger and hurt that was painted and burning across his brother's features.

Sam turned away from him and sucked at his lips and pressuring them until they were a line of bleach white against the colour of his face and the spasming muscles beneath his skin was like his emotions were literally bursting out of his flesh and Dean didn't have a clue what those emotions were anymore.

"Stop the car." Sam exhaled and spun back around, his voice rising to an emotional hiss "Stop the car or I will!"

Dean hated that Sam could even make that threat and hated Sam more for actually making it. He didn't think he'd ever have the words to express the unfairness of their relationship but he supposed he had never really noticed it before. His fingers were tight around the wheel as he pulled off the road sharply.

Sam was flying out his seat before the Impala had even rolled to stop. He staggered upright, breathing so heavily it moved the long strands of his hair across his face and glared once more at him before turning away from the Impala, chest heaving with a tangle of feeling that Dean wasn't even going to try and understand.

The lake glittered, wide and untouched purity before them and Dean was darkly amused by the beauty of their surrounds and the ugly conversation that was taking place in them.

"I am sick of you treating me like a freak," his brother snapped, hands on hips and the muscles in his jaw still moving against the lines of his flesh angrily. "Or worse; an idiot. I know the difference between right and wrong Dean."

"Do you?"

Sam's anger had smouldered down to ash and Dean could see the edges of wear and pain it had left in its wake, driving roads of age into his brother's previously entirely smooth skin and shadowing his eyes until there were smears of colour pressed beneath Sam's desperate gaze.

"Of course I do. But I have demon blood in me. This disease pumping through my veins, and I can't ever rip it out or scrub it clean! I'm a whole new level of freak! And I'm just trying to take this - this curse... and make something good out of it. Because I have to." Sam shuddered to a stop and seemed to fold in on himself, tucking his hands around his body and curling his shoulders forward protectively.

He almost reminded Dean of a child.

His heart ached for his brother suddenly. He understood feeling like a freak and making do. Seeing Sam so tried and uncertain was oddly comforting because despite the pain his brother was in, it was better than the cold certainty he had been previously wearing. It had reminded Dean of a demon's mentality

Confusion was human and as long as Sam was confused about his mojo and what to do with it, he was still Sam, still human and Dean was sad how desperately he needed confirmation of that.

He reached up and slapped Sam's arm awkwardly "Okay, okay, let's just go talk to this Jack then, maybe we can help."

His brother didn't thank him, but his face was painted in colours of gratitude and desperation and it was more than enough for Dean in that moment.

--00—

It didn't work.

But there again, Dean hadn't ever thought it would. The world was ugly and people were disappointments and he had never expected anything else, not even from himself or those closest to him. To do so was asking to be hurt.

Like Sam was.

His brother was made up of shadows and slashes of too bright light, his face hidden protectively behind the curtain of his hair as he stared out of the impala, watching the small spills of yellow light from streetlights that passed them in a blur of sickly colour.

"Sam..."

"Don't" Sam said faintly, his voice quivering with emotion and things unresolved. Dean knew that voice and it didn't matter how angry he was at his brother, or how much Sam had been scaring him lately with his freaky mojo crap, he hated hearing his brother in pain.

His mouth was dry and his lips locked and Dean hated that he didn't have the words to make it better. He didn't have the words to tell Sam that he had to kill that man, that the being that had killed Travis had been completely evil or that it was over and now everything would be fine.

Dean didn't have the words to lie.

--00--

"Dean"

Dean flinched in awareness suddenly and spun around the sound of Harry's soft voice. The angel had perched himself, stiffly in the passenger seat, his thin limbs folded in towards his body and his head titled patiently as he waited for Dean to notice him.

"Jesus, can't you knock or something?"

Castiel frowned slightly, his vessel's forehead knotting in confusion as he stared almost inquisitively at Dean, his glowing eyes blank with a lack of understanding "No,"

"Why are you here, last time you appeared it was for a confusing little pep talk about my brother"

"Dean..." Harry's face was glitter gold in the darkness of the impala, his skin glowing faintly with smears of power that Dean wasn't sure were consequence of Castiel or Harry anymore. Harry's hair was curling in limp waves of colour against his face, shadowing the angelic radiance of his eyes and falling heavily against the sharp edges of his cheekbones. He looked tired Dean realised suddenly and hated himself for even the small spark of worry this caused.

"Dean, I know you have been having doubts about me, but..."

"No, stop talking right now" he interrupted, pointing at the stiff figure beside himself angrily "this night has been hard enough without your divine intervention. We had to burn a man alive and we lost a friend, a good hunter that was fighting your battles. Where were you when I nearly became munchies for a hungry cannibal?"

Castiel sighed and Dean watched as he glanced over into the backseat, his eyes blank and unreadable as he stared at Sam's sleeping body. His brother had folded himself miserably into the back seat of the impala, his feet hanging awkwardly over the upholstery and pressing against the small, frost covered windows. He looked about as small as he could with a muscular, 6'4 frame, worry making him pathetic.

"This hurts now but this is a good thing, Sam needed this Dean"

Dean snarled softly, unwilling to wake his brother even as his anger bubbled hot and poisonous through his chest, "What? He needed to burn a man alive? Or he needed to have any sort of hope of a normal life smashed out of him?"

Castiel was unmoving, his face cold and emotionless as he stared at Dean in silence. Harry's brilliantly coloured eyes were full of light and angelic apathy and patience.

"Well" he demanded sharply, his hand moving towards the angel again, running close enough to Harry's face that he could feel the heat of the other man's skin.

"He needed to realise he was playing with fire," Castiel finally spoke, his voice soft and certain and entirely inhuman. Whatever sharing system Harry and Castiel had going on, it wasn't in action tonight. There was nothing human in Harry's bright gaze, the emerald glass of his eyes were full of burning stars and angelic magnificence and absent of any human flaw or sympathy.

"He didn't need it like this"

"This is what you both have been given" Said Castiel softly, "You don't need it, but you will adapt to it"

Dean's mouth twisted thoughtfully and he glanced over at Castiel, staring at the young, beautiful face of the angel's vessel and looking at the lines of wear that were being etched into his skin and the waxen thinness of flesh. He couldn't help but wonder exactly what the angel had been doing in his absence.

"And what was Harry given? What is he in all this?"

Castiel looked up at intensely from beneath the dark curls of Harry's hair, his eyes placid circles of light. "Harry is broken; he is in pain all the time. His soul is torn and bloody and he screams inside my head constantly, unable to accept what life has given him. He is full of human weakness and illogical emotion." Castiel paused and stared hard at Dean as if he was trying to find something in the odd expression that passed over Dean's features "He is very much like you."

Dean stared at Castiel thoughtfully. "I am nothing like that."

"You are," Castiel said with soft, certain conviction "You are both good men, and you are both broken."

--00—

Sam had clambered back into the front seat a while back.

Not that the conversation was any better than it had been with the angel. His brother was staring blankly out of the window once again, his eyes pale and glazed and his shoulders a curled up barrier between them.

"Look Sam," Dean started hesitantly, waiting until Sam shifted to stare silently at him, his features expectant and miserable. "I know I've been hard on you lately."

"Don't worry about it," Sam started to turn away again and Dean grabbed at his shoulder gently before he could resume his silent contemplation. Sam glanced at his hand with a quirked eyebrow, his tired face soft and thin in the twilight.

"It's just, your psychic mojo thing. It scares the crap out of me."

Sam's jaw clinched and he pulled away, his shoulder bumping against the window in his haste to get away from him. Dean sighed, understanding he had messed up things between them once again but not sure quite how.

"I know, but I can't keep explaining myself to you. I can't make you understand."

Dean didn't think Sam would ever understand how patronising and unfair that sentence was and had to keep his lips tightly pressed together, rubbing the softness of his mouth against his teeth to control his anger. Shouting didn't make things better, especially when it came to Sam; no matter how wrong he thought his brother was.

"Besides," Sam continued, "it doesn't matter anymore. These powers...they're playing with fire. I'm done with them. All of them."

His anger died at that and Dean felt hope smoulder in its place as he stared hard at his brother's fierce, not quite apologetic expression and revel in the worn sincerity of Sam's features.

"Really? That's a relief. Thank you." he tried to smile at his brother, but Sam titled his head away purposely as if he thought Dean didn't know the pain and fear this was igniting in him

"Don't thank me." Sam said quietly, his voice grainy with emotion that sounded a lot like fear but more like anger "I'm not doing this for you or for the angels or for anyone. This is my choice."

Dean was silent as he glanced over at his brother, his gut twisting nervously and he couldn't help but wonder if they had really made as much progress tonight as Castiel had believed.

--00—

Dean didn't sleep much anymore and when he did it wasn't for more than a couple of hours before he jolted in consciousness, pain and fire burning threateningly behind his eyelids, dragging sleep hopelessly away from him.

Sometimes he was surprised Sam didn't notice, but he supposed lately Sam had had enough of his own shit to deal with. Whatever the case he was grateful Sam didn't wake up as he slipped out from the tangled mess of his sheets, uncoiling himself from the ropes of his dreams and padded softly to his brothers computer.

He only hesitated a moment before grabbing the laptop and his mobile and slipping away towards the impala.

He had promised Bobby he wouldn't harm Harry but that didn't mean he wasn't going to find out everything he could about the young man. His flicked his phone open and scrolled through the numbers, pressing it against his ear impatiently for it to connect.

"Hey Ash, I need your help finding some dirt."

Okay, so the pairing poll was interesting and is still up if you haven't voted. Ultimately the pairing will be determined based on what fits the story best as some times characters just don't want to paired together. Special nod to IchigoPudding who left many reviews ardently supporting Castiel/Harry pairing and some very good reasons as why this pairing is better than Dean/Harry.

Next chapter. Yellow Fever:- Dean finds out about Harry's past.

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