Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Supernatural, and the characters thereof do not belong to me. I make no profit and this story was written for enjoyment value only.


CHAPTER NINE: Move Lespri A (The Demon)

Salvation, Iowa

October 30, 2006 (1:30pm)

The motel room was dim, even with the early afternoon light creeping through the tattered drapes. Sam sat at the table, eyes closed and rubbing at the pounding behind his temples, yet still aware of the penetrating gaze of his father boring into him.

"A vision." The tone was so flat that Sam nearly shuddered. That tone of voice from John Winchester never boded well for anyone.

"Yes." He sighed, pain filling every movement he made. "I saw the demon burning a woman on the ceiling."

There was a pause of silence before John spoke again." And you think this is going to happen to this woman you met because..."

Sam finally opened his eyes and met his father's unreadable expression. "Because these things happen exactly the way I see them."

"They started out as nightmares," Dean explained from where he sat on the edge of the bed. "Then it started happening while he was awake."

Sam watched as his brother got up from the bed and walked to the counter behind Sam. He couldn't see what the older man was doing but he knew, whatever it was, was for Sam's comfort and relief. It always was. Seeing the expression shift slightly on his Dad's face, Sam winced at what he was about to say. "Yeah, it's like the closer I get to anything to do with the demon the stronger the visions get."

Another poignant pause filled the space between them and then John snapped. "All right. When were you going to tell me about this?"

Both boys looked at their father, both silently supporting the other as Dean answered. "We didn't know what it meant."

They could tell John was furious, but the man kept the anger boiling just beneath the surface. He looked past Sam and turned his gaze disapprovingly at his oldest son. "All right, something like this starts happening to your brother, you pick up the phone and you call me."

"Call you?!" Sam barely contained the flinch when he heard the coffeepot and a cup suddenly slam into the counter behind him. Dean stalked past him and came toe to toe with their father. "Are you kidding me? Dad, I called you from Lawrence! Sam called you when I was dying! I mean, getting you on the phone? I got a better chance of winning the lottery."

Surprisingly, John was the one to take the step back. "You're right. Although I'm not too crazy about this new tone of yours, you're right. I'm sorry."

Taking the win where he could get it, Sam broke in before Dean could comment on his 'new tone'. "Look guys, visions or no visions, fact is, we know the demon is coming tonight. And this family's going to go through the same hell we went through."

"No, they're not," John said with the utmost sincerity. "No one is, ever again."

The moment was broken when Sam's phone started to ring. He glanced at it before answering. A pleasant jolt of surprise ran through him when he saw Harry's name and number on the display. It was the first time since Chicago that the other hunter had initiated contact with either Winchester. "Harry?"

"Fvahm!"

The choked and muffled exclamation had the faint smile he had worn when he answered vanish in an instant. A cold ice fist wrapped itself around his stomach and started twisting. He flicked the call over to speaker when his brother and father noticed the sudden change in his demeanor. "Harry, that you?"

The voice that responded the second time was not Harry. "Sam?"

Sam was suddenly very angry. "Who is this?"

"Think real hard it will come to you."

Sharing a look with Dean his mind raced through dozens of possibilities. It was when Dean's eyes widened and he mouthed a name to his younger brother that the ice fist on his stomach moved to his heart. He inhaled sharply, knowing that if the bitch was still alive and using Harry's phone... "Meg. Last time I saw you, you fell out of a window."

"Yeah, no thanks to you." She sounded like she was actually pouting. "That really hurt my feelings by the way."

"Just your feelings? That was a seven story drop."

The woman on the other end laughed. "Let me speak to your Dad."

Sam glanced at John but didn't hesitate with his answer. "My Dad? I don't know where my Dad is."

"It's time for the grownups to talk Sam." The way Meg spoke left no doubt with Sam that the situation was grave and was not the best idea to mess with her. "Let me speak to him, now!"

John took a silent step closer to the phone, apparently coming to the same conclusion as his son. "This is John."

"Howdy John," Meg greeted, suddenly pleasant and cheerful. "I'm Meg; I'm a friend of your boys. I'm also the one who watched Jim Murphy choke on his own blood."

That stopped all three Winchesters and Sam watched as Dean slumped onto the edge of the bed, his hand over his mouth in disgust. John didn't look to be faring any better. Sam knew the feeling; the thought of the kindly preacher dying like that made him ill. Pushing it aside for the moment, Sam focussed on the commotion he heard in the background on the other end of the call. When it quieted, Meg was back.

Whatever had happened seemed to have amused her greatly if the tone of her voice was any indication. "Still there John-boy?"

The oldest Winchester inhaled slowly, calmingly, before answering. "I'm here." The words were thick with emotion uncommonly expressed by the typically unmoveable man.

"Well, that was yesterday," she went on amiably. "Today I'm visiting another old friend of yours. He wants to say hi."

Sam's stomach roiled at the implications of her words and the evidence of the number on his phone. The frantic voice that shouted over the line only confirmed his fear.

"John, help Harry! Please! Whatever you do-"

Dean leapt from his seat and started pacing as he listened. The pounding in Sam's head was forgotten. John's face paled. The bitch had their friends.

"Caleb? The older man's voice was menacing and his teeth were gritted behind his lips as he snarled at Meg over the phone. "You listen to me. He's got nothing to do with anything. You let him go!"

"We know you have The Colt, John."

John barely hesitated before he responded. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Dean and Sam stared at him with utter disbelief.

"Oh," Meg said casually. "Okay. Well, listen to this."

The sudden wet gasps and choking echoing in the motel room were nowhere near as chilling as the heart wrenching cry that came from the speaker of Sam's phone. All three men were horrified at what they were hearing and what they knew had happened.

"Caleb?! John shouted, and Sam could see the desperate hope that their conclusions were wrong. "Caleb!"

"You hear that?" Meg demanded breathlessly over the gruesome noises. "That's the sound of your friend dying in front of his son!"

Dean had gone green as he listened to one friend as he died and the other screaming and crying in despair. The sounds continued for another few seconds, the choking petering out until the only sound they heard was Harry's muffled sobs.

Sam's hand was shaking and he quickly set the open phone down on the table. He couldn't tear his eyes away from it or from his father's hunched over frame as the older man clutched at the edge of the table with white-knuckled fists.

"Now," Meg's calm voice came over the line, "let's try this again. Say hi, Harry."

"You bitch," Harry's voice was so broken it felt as if someone had reached in and tore out Sam's heart. He and Dean shared a knowing look; knowing how they would feel if they had been forced to watch their father die so horribly. Despite that, Harry's next words had them hopeful that their friend wasn't completely broken. "I'll have you begging for Hell, you fucking bitch!"

Meg almost seemed to hesitate, but her voice was steady when she spoke again. "We know you have the gun John; word travels fast. So, as far as we're concerned, you just declared war. And this is what war looks like. It has casualties."

"I'm going to kill you, you know that?" John growled as he lifted his head. Sam was certain his phone would explode just from the look of loathing the older man leveled it with.

"Oh John please," the woman spat derisively, "mind your blood pressure. So this is the thing: We're going to keep doing what we're doing. And your friends, anyone who has ever helped you, gave you shelter, anyone you ever loved; they'll all die unless you give us that gun. I'm sure I don't have to tell you whose neck is in the noose right now."

Both boys snapped their heads to their father, watching him and wondering if he would try lying to her again. John was obviously thinking, and hard, when Harry's shouted "Let her kill me, John! Don't give the cunt what she wants!"

Sam saw the instant his father considered it and was on his feet, glaring at John with everything he had. The man stared right back at him, startled when Dean sidled up to his brother's side with the exact same expression on his face. Neither would ever forgive him if he didn't at least try to save their friend.

"I'm waiting Johnny; better answer before the buzzer!"

No one in the room doubted the honesty of Meg's ultimatum.

"Okay." John said, as much to Meg as to his boys.

"John, no!"

"Sorry? I didn't quite get that." The smugness dripping from her voice belied that statement.

"I said oaky," John acquiesced defeated. "I'll bring you the colt."

"There's a warehouse in Lincoln," the woman told John, "On the corner of Wabash and Lake. You're going to meet me there."

"It's going to take me about a day's drive to get there," John tried.

A pain filled groan grated across their already fried nerves, the unspoken threat all too clear. "Meet me there at midnight tonight."

"That's impossible," John snapped, ignoring the glares directed at him by his children. "I can't get there in time and I can't just carry a gun on the plane."

"Oh. Well I guess Harry dies, doesn't he? If you do decide to make it, come alone!"

The sudden dead air signalled the end of the call, though no one moved to close Sam's phone. Dean was staring at his Dad, shaking his head at the man. "You just heard her slice Caleb open and still you tried to play her?! First Jim, now Caleb... Do you want Harry to die too?!"

"Of course not!" John snapped at his oldest son. "But I don't want to just hand over the only leverage we've got to a goddamn demon!"

"You think Meg's a demon?" Sam asked quietly, still reeling from everything that had just happened. Guilt was rapidly replacing the icy dread that had filled him during the entire call; he had been an ass to his best friend and now he might not get the chance to make it right. That did not sit well with him in the least.

"Either that, or she's possessed by one." John clarified with a shuddering sigh.

The quiet of the three uncertain hunters filled the room until Dean asked the question they were all thinking. "What do we do?"

"I'm going to Lincoln." John answered readily, already moving to gather his things from the room.

Both sons stared at him, no longer in anger but in confusion. "What?" Dean asked.

"It doesn't look like I have a choice." Their father turned and looked at them and the resolve in his face was comforting. "If I don't go, Harry dies. I've already lost two friends today, I won't lose any more."

Sam was grateful, but a nagging doubt about the decision wormed its way up through the building guilt. "Dad, the demon is coming tonight. For Monica and her family. That gun is all we got, you can't just hand it over."

"Who said anything about handing it over?" John looked between his two boys and explained. "Look, besides us, and a couple of vampires, no one's really seen the gun. No one knows what it looks like.

Sam was pleased to hear that, but Dean obviously was not. He gaped at John like he'd never seen the man before. "So what, you're just going to pick up a ringer at a pawn shop?"

"Antique store," John corrected as if it were the most obviously answer.

Dean snapped. "You're going to hand Meg a fake gun and hope she doesn't notice? You're going to bet Harry's life that she's that stupid?! She will kill him Dad!"

"I know that!" John roared. "I know that, and I honestly don't want that and I will try my damnedest to see that it doesn't happen. So long as it's close she shouldn't be able to tell the difference."

"Yeah, but for how long?" Dean pressed furiously. "What happens to Harry when she finds out?"

"What do you want me to do, Dean?" John demanded. "Just hand the real colt over to her?"

"Yes!" Dean bellowed, surprising Sam and stunning John into silence.

Sam stepped toward his irate brother. "Dean-"

"No, Sam," Dean shook his head. "Dad gambled once today and it cost Harry Caleb. Harry had to watch his father choke and drown on his own blood and could do nothing to stop it. We've fucked up enough with Harry; I won't do it again."

"This is The Demon," Sam practically pleaded, desperate to ignore the guilt now churning in his gut. "Dean, this is what we've been hunting for our entire lives! It killed Mom! It killed Jess-"

"But killing it won't bring them back," Dean countered easily, "will it? We don't even know for sure that it will work on the goddamn thing. But it will get Harry back."

And honestly, Sam couldn't argue with that. As much as he wanted to avenge Jess' death he had moved past it. He couldn't do anything about it, and there would be other ways to get at the demon. However... "But what about Monica and her family? We can't just leave them to the demon."

"I only need to buy a few hours," John finally said, "that's all."

"You mean for Sam and me," Dean frowned. "You want us to stay here and kill the demon by ourselves?"

"No, Dean," John shook his head. "I want to stop losing the people we love. I want Sam to go to school; I want you to have a home; I want you both to have friends. I want... I want Mary alive. I just want this be over."

He started packing up his gear again. "I promise you both: I won't let her kill him."

Lincoln, Nebraska

October 30, 2006 (11:00pm)

It was hard not to lose himself inside the grief. Memories of Jim and Caleb were flooding his thoughts and he couldn't shake the heartache every time he thought of the two most important people in his life. He wanted to crumble, to give in to the overwhelming pain and loss that was a thousand times worse than when he lost Sirius and Hermione. He wanted to cry and scream and, God help him, he wanted to die!

But, for the same reasons he didn't step off the astronomy tower all those years ago, he couldn't bring himself to give in.

Harry huffed through his nose and shifted in his bindings. His back was pressed uncomfortably against a large pipe running parallel with the wall. A rope, looped between the small links of chain between the handcuffs tight around his wrists, stretched his arms above his head and was secured to the narrower pipes running along the ceiling. Several strips of heavy-duty tape sealed his lips.

He had woken as he was being manhandled into this position, his hands already cuffed and his mouth gagged. He had kicked and struggled but, with Meg's demonic powers still trapping his own magic inside his core, the fight had been short lived. The bitch had just sat in a folding chair not too far from him, watching him with unrestrained amusement as he was imprisoned. Once he was in place, the other demons left the area leaving him and Meg alone. He had continued to struggle, much to her entertainment, and tried to work free of his restraints. But, when the blood had tricked down his arms from the now open wounds on his wrists, he stopped.

That had been hours ago and still she had yet to say anything to him. He had tried glaring at her but she only smirked back. He had tried wrestling his powers against hers but while he had been unconscious she had successfully dug her claws in and he could not shake her oppressing strength. So he had closed his eyes and tilted his head back, resting it against the thick pipe behind him and tried not to give in to the grief coiling just beneath the surface.

"So this is him?"

A new voice and presence had him opening his eyes and staring at the man that joined them. He was an older man, late fifties at least, with heavy laugh lines and short graying hair. His skin was pale, with a cleft in his chin, but it was the gleaming yellow eyes that had Harry bucking in his restraints when the man drew nearer.

Meg got up from her chair, a pleased smile on her lips as she stood behind the Winchester's yellow-eyed demon. "So it would seem. It's gotten a little easier, but it's still taking most of my concentration to keep him subdued."

Harry stiffened when the man stopped right in front of him, flinching when a heavy hand ghosted over his head and down the side of his face. He cursed Yellow-Eyes as he tried to move away from the touch, but the tape successfully muffled his colorful protests.

The thing's eyes were closed and it was inhaling deeply. "Xezbeth actually did it," he exhaled in amazement, stroking Harry's head like one might a pet. "He's so strong! I can feel it even with you holding him back! This- This is what I have been striving for!"

"He's disgustingly pure though, for a Cambion." A second man stepped in to the dim lighting, startling Harry as he hadn't seen him hiding there. This man was tall, younger, muscled and dark haired. His solid black eyes were sneering down at Harry as the new demon stopped beside Meg.

"He's not a true Cambion," Yellow-Eyes pointed out without turning away from Harry. "Xezbeth's blood called forth the demon blood that lay dormant for millennia. He's still mostly human, but the power he wields! It's intoxicating. It's what Xezbeth was learning when he targeted the Wizards. The way they use their powers, the things they can do; no demon's magic has been able to match its precision and versatility."

Yellow-Eyes' pulled Harry's sleeve down his arm, exposing the wand and holster strapped to his forearm. Fingers ran over the slender piece of wood and the Demon hissed when its fingers blistered, pulling them back quickly.

"We can't touch it," Meg informed the thing, showing her own fingers that were slowly healing. "Whatever it's made from, that one and the one on his leg, no one can remove either of them. It's why I'm keeping him locked down."

Harry glared at the trio of demons with satisfaction. It was no wonder they couldn't stand the touch of the wood infused with phoenix feathers. Even if he couldn't tap into his magic to use them, it was reassuring to feel the wands against his skin.

"It would be such a waste to kill him," Yellow-Eyes said with a frown.

"Can we ride him?" Meg asked eagerly.

Oh hell no! Harry's eyes went wide as he understood they were talking about possessing him. His fight began anew, the scabbed over abrasions under the cuffs breaking open as he pulled futilely against them. His eyes narrowed and he cursed the other man when he looked intrigued and drew closer, the black eyes swirling as the demon inside prepared to jump hosts.

"Not this one, Tom." Surprisingly, he was saved by Yellow-Eyes. "It was tried eons ago and maybe now, with the demon blood diluted, it may be possible with a different Wizard. But Xezbeth has marked this one. You would burn up before you could sink your teeth into him."

"A shame," the other demon - Tom - said with visible disappointment. His black eyes solidified once more as they roamed up and down Harry's struggling body. "It might have been fun riding him back to those Winchester shits. So are we going to kill him then?"

Yellow-Eyes chuckled and actually shook his head. "As far as Johnny is concerned, the Wizard will die whether he gives us what we want or not. I doubt the man will, however. He's been hunting for the Colt ever since he heard of it. He won't give it up; especially for someone as tainted as our Harry here."

Harry glared at the demonic trio, a muffled 'fuck you' snarling through the tape much to their amusement. It was Meg who asked, "So if we can't kill him, and we can't ride him, what do we do with him?"

"There may be ways to control his powers," Yellow-Eyes admitted as he finally tore himself away from Harry and turned to the other two. They walked away from him and he relaxed a little, though with Meg's power still trapping his core it was hard to do so completely. "We'll hold on to him for now; keep him well guarded and restrained. I need to find out a few things first. It's a shame Xezbeth is back in the pit, he would have known what I needed. Still," he looked back at the helpless Harry with an excited smile, "he may be more ideal than any of the other children! He's stronger, well trained, a far better General than any of them could hope to be - except for maybe Sam. If we didn't need the Colt and I hadn't invested so much time and energy cultivating the Winchester boy, I'd almost say 'Fuck it!' and use the Wizard."

The yellow eyes watched him for a moment longer before the demon actually sighed and turned away. "Ah well. It's almost time; I've got to go."

Staring defiantly, Harry watched it go but the other two remained. Tom turned his full attention to their bound captive and approached him. When he got close enough, Harry kicked out with one of his free legs but the strike was easily missed. Suddenly, Tom was pressed right up against Harry; his hand wrapped tightly around the struggling man's throat and forcing his head back to look the taller demon in the eyes.

"What are you doing, Tom?" Meg asked with a bored air as she retook her spot on the chair.

"What's it like?" Tom tightened his grip, stifling Harry's breathing, and tilted his head down until his nose was nuzzling the spot right behind Harry's ear. "Touching that kind of power inside a pathetic little human."

Harry gritted his teeth and closed his eyes when the demon began practically rubbing his face up and down the side of his neck. He choked as the lack of air became painful and he felt his magic flaring under Meg's control.

"I don't think he's so pathetic!" The girl gasped, drawing Tom's attention away from the Wizard as she rocked in her chair. Her eyes flashed between blue and black and Harry felt the pressure of her power forcing his own to submit again. "You should have felt him after I slit his dear old dad open." Harry cringed at the image that flashed across his memory and his magic buckled.

Meg was panting for breath as she righted herself in the chair. She chuckled. "It's intense. He's almost shaken me a couple of times and even now it's a fight to keep him pinned down. He could be a god among men, and yet he languishes in obscurity. Father's right: if we can control this, there will be no stopping us. Now let him go, he's turning blue."

Tom looked back at Harry and reluctantly stepped back, taking his hand away from Harry's throat. Drawing in what little breath he could through his nose, Harry tried to refill his lungs. Tom regarded him briefly before turning away. "Should you ever need a break, dear sister-"

"You'll be the first to know." The pair was distracted by the entrance of another demon. The thing leaned down and whispered something in Meg's ear who smiled and got from up from her seat. "Winchester's here." She shared an eager smile with Tom before moving toward Harry. She placed a slender hand on his head and caressed his hair once. "Be a good boy while I'm gone, Baby."

His head suddenly slammed into the thick pipe behind him and stars exploded in his vision. He felt his body go lax and the cuff dig into his bloodied wrists as he slumped in his bindings. Unconsciousness encroached on him once more and he embraced it welcomingly.

oOOooOOooOOooOOo

John moved quickly through the warehouse, cognizant of the screams and yells coming from the demons scrambling to get out. At first he had thought to bless the water in the tower, plan an escape route where he could flush the Holy water into the underground passages. But then he saw the water tanks for the fire suppression system and realized being able to move about and find Harry was the key to saving Caleb's son.

When the exchanged went sour, as he knew it would, he had bolted and set off the smoke bomb he had rigged beneath the fire alarm. In less than a second the sprinkles turned on and the entire building was being drenched in holy water.

It was a strange feeling, rushing through a demon infested building to find the Wizard. Even after planning and executing the operation a decade ago to protect Harry from the English magic users, John had made it a point to avoid the Reaves' as much as possible. He'd only agreed to help with that situation because he owed it to Harry for what he did for Dean. But over the years, watching Dean and Harry grow closer even as Sam pulled away from them both, seeing the man Harry had become and what his magic could do, John had found his indifference to the boy became more a habit that his true feeling.

When he heard Caleb pleading for John to save his son, only to have to listen to the boy screaming as the demon bitch killed his father, the last of John's reticence about Harry had faded. He could not, in good conscious, let the man die. Not when John had a chance to save him.

The sounds of pain coming from the demons faded the further he moved into the warehouse and he could only hope he was moving in the right direction. The shower of water would not last much longer but the standing water covering the floor would hopefully buy him the time he needed to get him and Harry, no matter the younger hunter's condition, out.

A low pitched moan drew John's attention down a darkened hall and to another large open space with dozens of pipes running along the walls and ceiling. The sprinklers sputtered as the water finally ran out just as John saw the figure writhing in the puddles that had collected on the concrete floor. The smoldering body lay a few feet from a second body hanging limply by its arms tied to the pipes in the ceiling.

"Harry!" John bolted to Harry's side, ignoring the demon on the floor, and quickly pressed his fingers into the unconscious hunter's pulse point on his throat. He breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the steady, if weak, beat of the other man's heart and readily began assessing the damage done to his boys' friend.

Blood, both dried and fresh, had been washed from various spots on his body and his feet resided in a puddle of blood tinted water. His arms were streaked with pale pink water and John could see the blood still seeping from beneath the cuffs that cut viciously into the skin of his wrists. Two ragged gashes on his cheek were oozing blood through thick scabs, indicating the wounds were several hours old but irritated by the high pressure water that had fallen. There were no burns to his skin which alleviated John's fear that the boy could have been possessed during his captivity. There was a nasty lump at the back of Harry's head and John's hand came away wet with blood and water when he checked it. However, the man had reacted to the touch and shifted his head, moaning against the tape gagging his mouth.

"Harry?" John called quietly. He wrapped an arm around the rousing man's waist, taking some of the weight off the damaged wrists, and went to work on the rope suspending him with a knife from John's boot. "Come on, kid."

Green eyes flickered open and John could feel the muscles of the man's leg's trying to get beneath him again. They gave out barely a second later and the body went slack again.

"Shit," John cursed as he sawed the knife through the last strands of the rope. The arms dropped for the first time in god knew how long but there was no response from Harry. Not taking the time to uncuff the unconscious man, John lifted Harry into a fireman's carry and moved as quickly as he could back the way he came.

He tried not to think about what it meant when he didn't come across anyone; no demons, no bodies, nothing barred his was as his found an exit and stepped out into the night air. It was crisp against his wet clothes but it slow him down. He just hoped it didn't exacerbate Harry's condition. It only took him a few minutes to weave his way through the dark between the different buildings to where he had hidden his truck.

Seeing all four tires slashed was not a promising sight.

Barely pausing, John opened the gate to the truck bed and shifted Harry's body off his shoulder and into the back. He hopped up and shifted Harry around so his unconscious frame was hidden among his supplies. He didn't bother removing the cuffs from Caleb's son's wrists but he did gingerly pry the tape from Harry's mouth.

Lifting his spare phone from his gear, he quickly sent off a text with coordinates to Dean's phone. He then tucked it between Harry's hands and ran a hand over dark damp hair. "Look out for my boys, Harry."

John pulled a heavy canvas tarp over the injured hunter and secured it in place, ensuring there were enough airways to keep Harry from suffocating. Climbing out of the truck he inspected his work and, once satisfied that Harry was well hidden, started running.

Lincoln, Nebraska

October 31, 2006 (05:30am)

"Thanks, Bobby. We'll let you know if we find anything."

Dean looked up from the city map spread out over the hood of the Impala. Sam shut his phone as he walked back and Dean watched as Sam reared back and threw the phone through the open door of the car. "FUCK!"

That did not bode well for the answer when Dean asked, "What'd he say?"

Sam sighed, resting his elbows on the top of the car and burying his face momentarily in his palms. When he looked at his brother he was calmer but no less angry. "He's still in Minnesota but is heading out in about an hour. The cops were suspecting a vagrant killed Pastor Jim, and Bobby's confident he'll be able to get his body released to him in a day or two. He's listed as next of Kin and in Jim's will it states he wants to be cremated before being interred."

"But Caleb and Harry were notified before Bobby," Dean scowled. "And you said 'were suspecting'."

"No one from the Sheriff's office called anyone," Sam informed him. "That led Bobby and the Sheriff over to Jim's place where they found Caleb's truck in the drive and his body tied to a chair inside Jim's living room. Bobby told them about Harry and now they've got a BOLO for him."

Dean frowned. "They don't think he had anything to do with their murders, do they?"

Sam shook his head. "No. Caleb and Harry were well known around town, so it wasn't hard for Bobby to convince them that Harry was in trouble. According to Bobby they're treating Harry's disappearance as a kidnapping and now the Feds are getting involved."

"Whoever called Caleb set him and Harry up. Meg or one of her flunkies. She may have been able to take Jim out on his own if she caught him by surprise, but Caleb and Harry? She couldn't have done that by herself."

"Looks that way," Sam agreed.

"Yeah, and we knew all of that, or at least suspected." Dean grunted, having hoped the grizzled hunter had heard from Harry. Or their Dad. Even after Meg had answered their Dad's phone he'd been hoping that she'd been bluffing. She hadn't said anything about Harry and the oldest Winchester son refused to believe their friend was dead. There was a chance they'd both escaped and the bitch was just playing with Dean and Sam. But the longer they went without contact from either one...

"We stick to the plan, then." He jabbed a finger at a spot on the map. "This is the warehouse that bitch wanted to make the exchange at. Dad would have got there early to scope out the area."

"And the coordinated Dad sent you brought us here." Sam walked over to stand beside his brother, pointing his finger at the alley they were parked in. "Three blocks between here and there."

"So whatever he wanted us to find will be around here somewhere." Dean folded up the map while Sam reached into the car and retrieved his phone. Once the Impala was locked up the brothers headed out. They hadn't gone far when they saw the side alley partially blocked by a large red construction dumpster. Down the alley they found John's truck.

Seeing the state of the tires, Dean cursed and kicked the torn up rubber in anger. "Goddamn it!"

Sam was looking through the windows as the doors were still locked "None of his stuff is missing. Do you think he made it back here?"

"They made sure it didn't matter either way," Dean huffed. He climbed into the back of the truck with the intent of searching the items beneath the tarp. "He wouldn't have sent us those coordinates if there wasn't - Shit! Harry!"

While he expected a number of things, he had not anticipated finding the unconscious and bloody body of his friend. He was vaguely aware of Sam opening the tailgate but focused on checking the injured man's vitals. "Fuck, he's cold," He hissed. "But the pulse is there, breathing's good. He's got one hell of a lump on the back of his head though. Goddamn! His wrists..."

"Dad must have hidden him here," Sam said quietly as he watched Dean delicately picked the locks of the blood stained cuffs digging into Harry's savaged wrists.

"Then lured them away from the truck, letting himself get snatched."

When the first cuff opened, Dean gently pried it opened and pulled it way from the wounds. All the while, Sam watched Harry's face for any kind of reaction. Seeing none, the young hunter frowned." He's unresponsive, Dean; he needs a hospital."

"No hospital," Dean muttered as he went to work on the second cuff. "Harry's magic reacts badly with normal treatments. They'd more likely kill him than help him." The skin on the other wrist was just as bad as the first and Dean tossed the bloody restraints aside in disgust before fishing through his Dad's gear for the first aid kit. "Caleb hasn't - hadn't taken Harry to a hospital in over two years. Not since he flatlined after being given a local anesthetic for some stitches."

Sam blanched. "I didn't know that happened."

Sparing him a quick glance, Dean shrugged and went back to work treating their friend. "It was a while ago. We'll take him to Bobby's; the old man will know how to help him."

"You mean when I wasn't talking to you both." Sighing, Sam hopped out of the truck. "I'll go get the Impala so we don't have to move him too far."

Dean didn't comment or stop in his work. He was taping a thick pad of gauze over the gashes on the younger man's face when his eyes caught a flash of gold around Harry's neck. The pendant the wizard wore had shifted and clinked against the metal of the truck bed. He fingered the little golden face and narrowed his eyes in confusion. The pendant was identical to the one Dean wore; the one Sammy had gotten him for Christmas one year when they were kids. In all the years since, he'd never seen the image again or any reference to it, despite Sam's insistence it was for protection. Hearing the Impala nearing, Dean tucked the necklace back beneath Harry's shirt.

"Bobby will be waiting for us," Sam said when he climbed out of the driver's seat.

"Good. Let's get the hell out of here."