Disclaimer:Harry Potter and all recognizable items from it belong to J.K. Rowling & Warner Brothers. Supernatural and all recognizable items from the show belong to Eric Kripke and Warner Brothers. Anything else that you don't recognize and is original material is all mine. I can only wish I was as creative as to think of these brilliant additions to pop culture first.
Genre: Action/Romance/Drama/Suspense
Rating: MA (for a reason)
Warning: Will contain major SLASH themes. Canon-Compliant up until Book 6 of Harry Potter, and changes Supernatural to include Harry and that J.K. Rowling never published the Harry Potter series LOL. All lyrics at the beginning of chapters, as well as story titles, belong to their respective authors.
Summary: The war against Voldemort ends and Harry is victorious, but at what cost? Harry passes through the veil after Sirius ends up in a world without any Wizarding society. Harry starts his new life and attends university with Sam Winchester. Harry becomes an intricate part of the lives of the Winchester brothers before his secret is revealed.
Author's Note: This chapter is a thank you for helping me win the 2009 Nation Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) competition! I chose to write chapters from this fic for that story and I am proud to say that at 11:25pm last night I WON!!! I've tried to accomplish this feat for the last three years and I've finally won.
I owe it all to this story and all of your supportive reviews! So thanks!
As always, check out the author's notes at the end for more information.
*This chapter rated MA for bad language, good sex, and mediocre cliffhangers.*
You Leave the World Behind
Moriarty's Minion
Chapter 7:
"Be Careful What You Witch For"
"I thought I knew you well,
but all this time I could never tell.
I let you get away,
haunts me every night and every day.
You were the only one,
the only friend I counted on."
- Foreigner, That Was Yesterday
THEN…
Dean felt his blood run cold. "Did you see it, Harry?"
Harry nodded. "I tried to stop it. I tried to… fight it. I don't think it was human, Dean."
Dean's hand tightened on Harry's. "I need you to listen me and believe me, Harry. Can you do that?"
Harry nodded slightly, trying not to move anything below his neck.
Dean leaned in closer and put his mouth to Harry's ear.
"Do you believe in demons?"
NOW…
"Demons?"
Dean nodded.
"Demons?" Harry asked again. "Demons are real?"
Dean listened carefully for skepticism in Harry's voice, but found only wonder and fear. Harry never failed to surprise him.
"How do you know that they are real, Dean?"
"Do you remember what I told you about my mom?" Dean asked. "About what happened to her when I was younger?"
"She died in a fire," Harry recalled, taking Dean's hand in his. Dean smirked at the irony of Harry trying to comfort him, when it should be the other way around. "Or did she?"
"Now you're catching on."
"You mean what that thing, that demon," Harry corrected, taking a deep gulp of air as the pieces fell into place. "that killed your mom was the same one that… that killed Jess?"
Dean nodded. "Dad said he found Mom pinned to the ceiling and everything. Never realized how horrifying a sight that was until this week."
Dean let Harry digest the revelation for a moment, waiting for Harry to ask the inevitable question. "What else is real?"
"Lots of things," Dean replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Vampires, Werewolves, Poltergeists. Pretty much everything that scary movies were founded on."
"What about magic? What about witches and wizards?" Harry asked suddenly, eagerly leaning towards Dean. Dean recoiled at the gleam in Harry's eyes. He didn't like the idea of Harry thinking witches were some earthy chicks in robes who worshipped the Gaia or something.
"They're human, like you and me and Sam," Dean explained carefully. "But they worship demons. In return, the demons give them powers and abilities to serve them and wreak the occasional serving of havoc on innocents."
Dean was pleased to see Harry taking the idea of witches more seriously now.
"So are they all evil or just some?" Harry asked, a twinge of hope in his question.
"Every last demon ass kissing one of them," Dean said vehemently. "No good can come from worshiping demons, Harry. It's not like there's a demon to worship that wants people to give candy to kindergartners."
"Unless the candy has been poisoned," Sam interrupted, entering the hospital room. Dean dropped Harry's hand immediately and leaned further back into the hospital chair. Harry smirked at him as Sam took the empty seat on the other side of the bed from Dean.
Sam was still wearing the nice suit he'd purchased for his girlfriend's funeral. Dean had elected to stay and wait on Harry to regain consciousness. Not that Sam had asked Dean to come to the funeral.
"I thought you were at the funeral?" Harry asked, taking Sam's hand in his other hand and giving it a friendly squeeze. Sam returned the gesture with an exhausted smile. Dean tried to fight the jealous rage that filled his chest at the gesture.
"I was," Sam explained to the pair, "but I couldn't bring myself to stay long. Had to get back and check on my buddy, right?"
Harry returned Sam's smile with one of his own, one that Dean knew was false. Dean realized that Harry didn't buy Sam's excuse for leaving early and was just playing along to make his little brother feel better.
"I see you two are getting along nicely," Sam commented. For one panicked moment, Dean checked to make sure he really wasn't still holding hands with Harry.
"Why do you say that?" Dean demanded, ignoring the warning look Harry sent his way.
"You don't talk about hunting to just anyone, Dean."
"Oh, you know Dean. He just loves doing the emotional therapy session, don't you, Dean?" Harry interrupted, trying to smooth over the awkward moment.
Dean smirked. "Hey, man, sharing is caring."
Sam laughed.
"I'm glad," Sam said. "It's going to make our road tripping a lot easier if the two of you get along from the start."
Dean's face turned red in outrage. "You want to take him with us?"
Harry's face, which had brightened slightly at the invite, was now dark and angry. "What, not enough room in the Impala for three, Dean?"
Dean wasn't sure where in the room to look. Sam seemed shocked by Dean's rude outburst, and embarrassed by him. Harry did an impressive job of looking emotionally damaged for someone already physically damaged and in a hospital bed. Both were waiting for an answer.
"I thought he was your friend, Sam?" Dean inquired, shooting for a different attack method.
"He is."
"I am."
Dean might have thought the way they answered his question at the same time funny had they not looked so murderous.
"I'm just saying, Sammy, that you've made it very clear that this isn't the life you would have chosen for yourself," Dean explained. "So why would you choose it for you friend?"
"And I don't get a vote?" Harry asked, interrupting so that Sam wouldn't have to respond to a question he clearly didn't have the answer to. One look at Sam's stricken face was enough to realize that.
"No, Harry, you don't." Dean tried to fill his simple answer with everything he was feeling at the moment. Didn't Harry understand anything? It wasn't Sam who didn't want this life for Harry, it was Dean. If Dean was willing to drag Harry into the hunter lifestyle, effectively shortening his life expectancy by fifty years or so, he wouldn't have bailed a year ago. Hell, he wouldn't have left at all.
"Than why tell me about what's out there at all, Dean?" Harry asked quietly, clearly having received some part of Dean's mental turmoil. "Why not just lie? Tell me I was crazy for seeing a pair of yellow eyes glowing in the dark?"
"Because you're my friend, Harry," Sam said, this time answering in Dean's place.
"What does that have to do with it?" Harry inquired.
"Because I'm a Winchester. Because being in the life of a Winchester… it makes you a target," Sam said, his voice breaking on the last word. "Just like it did our mother. Just like it did Jessica."
"We're not cursed, Sam," Dean snapped at him.
"Unless you and Dad picked up some new friends in the past few years, Dean, than I think you should take a look at why our family is made up of loners."
"It's not cause we're cursed."
"Right," Sam replied sarcastically. "It's cause everyone we like is dead."
Dean looked away from his younger brother. When they were six, Sam had asked if their family had been cursed. Dean didn't believe it, but Sam had always held on to the notion.
What a way to grow up, Dean thought to himself.
"And because you're a target," Sam continued, unaware of the mental somersaults going through Dean's mind, "is all the more reason to keep you safe."
"And hunting is safe?" Dean asked.
"No, being prepared is safe. Hunting is just practice. Practice makes perfect."
"You sound like Dad," Dean accused.
"Since when is that a negative in your eyes, Dean?"
Harry cleared his throat, catching the attention of the two brothers who were fighting over his future but clearly having forgotten he was present. The brothers flushed slightly.
"If you two could put a sock in it for a minute, please," said Harry. "You keep talking about 'hunting' but you didn't explain what that was yet. I'm assuming you don't mean like rabbit or deer season or something?"
Sam and Dean connected eyes over the top of Harry's hospital bed. Dean nodded at Sam to continue. If Sam was going to drag Harry into this, despite Dean's objections, then he ought to have to deal with all the explanations that went along with it.
Sam sighed. "Dean explained about our mom?"
Harry nodded.
"After she was killed, Dad became absolutely driven. Almost everything he did was about finding out what killed Mom."
"How'd he do it?" Harry asked.
"Stubbornness," Dean inserted wryly. Even Sam smirked.
"That and, according to Dad's journal, someone from Missouri," Sam continued.
"Missouri?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, I don't get the reference either," said Dean. "But whoever they were, they were remarkably informed. Usually the only way to find out about the supernatural world is from another hunter."
"Like I am," Harry said, smiling at the brothers. "Good thing I've got two hunters to learn from."
Sam shook his head. "Nah, Dean over there is the real hunter. He and Dad have been hunting since before I could talk."
"Don't listen to him, Harry," Dean ordered, "Sam's just as much of a hunter as me. Probably more so, since he had me and Dad training him up all his life."
Harry let the brothers share a moment of peace and a smile before breaking into the conversation again. "So what exactly do you do when you hunt?"
"We find the bad things," Dean said proudly, "and we kill them. No matter what it takes."
"You kill the bad things," Harry clarified, swallowing deeply, "meaning demons and werewolves and… and witches."
Dean saw how Harry swallowed thickly and realized he must have presented his occupation in the wrong light.
Sam must have come to the same conclusion since he quickly added, "They all deserve it, Harry. The only way we can even track these things down is by how much damage they cause and how many people they kill before we can get to them."
Harry nodded. "So how many hunters are there?"
"It's not like there's a guild, Harry."
"What my brother means," Sam said more tactfully, "is that we don't really know. There are only a few main hubs that hunters go to. Most of the time you only hear about something getting wasted and know that another hunter got to it first. Every now and then you run into a hunter on a job, but that's pretty rare."
"And this is what you did growing up?" Harry asked incredulously. "What about school?"
"What about school?" Dean echoed the question back. "Fuck school. We got a real world experience."
"We moved around a lot," Sam answered, shrugging the question off even though it was apparent to everyone in the hospital room that it was not a topic he dealt with easily.
"So I would hunt these things, too?"
"No," Dean responded immediately, already shooting a warning glare at his younger brother.
"It's up to him, Dean."
"What about college?" Dean demanded.
"Dean," Harry rounded on his ex-lover. "Not five minutes ago you said, and I quote, 'Fuck school'. Are you really going to stand there and pretend to be the poster boy of education?"
"Maybe not of education," Dean muttered.
"What's a matter, Dean, don't want me around? Besides, without Sam and – and Jess, I don't think I would even want to go back."
Dean tried to ignore the hidden pain in Harry's question. Of course, Dean wanted Harry around. He just didn't want it enough to risk Harry's death. Apparently his little brother was selfish enough to run that risk.
"He won't be safe with anyone else," Sam argued. "The Yellow-Eyed Demon has seen him, Dean. As soon as he knows he's alive, he'll be a demon magnet."
"He'll be a demon magnet with us, Sam," Dean countered. "Or did you forget about that?"
Sam held up the tie he'd worn to Jess's funeral. "No, Dean, I haven't forgotten."
Dean looked away from his brother. He hadn't meant to throw his fiancée's death in the man's face. Why anyone bothered putting up with him Dean had no idea. The only person more likely to be blunt with someone than Dean was Bobby.
Dean snapped his head up to meet's Sam's questioning gaze.
"What, Dean?"
Dean glanced at Harry before turning back to Sam. "I think I have another idea."
"Oh, goodie," Harry said, mockingly clapping his hands in excitement.
"Shut it, Harry."
Sleep Easy Seaside Motel & Bar
As soon as Dean opened the motel door, Harry bolted for the bathroom as fast as his injuries would let him.
"Dibs on the loo!" he shouted to them as he slammed the door behind him.
"The loo?" Dean asked Sam in amusement.
Sam shrugged at him, chucking his duffel bag on the bed closest to the bathroom. "Sometimes he slips on the American lingo."
"After four years of living here?" Dean asked.
Sam looked at him oddly.
"What?" Dean asked, checking to see if he'd spilt any of his lunch on his favorite jacket.
"How did you know how long Harry's been living here?" Sam asked, watching his brother closely. "I don't think I ever mentioned it."
Dean shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "He must have said it in the hospital or something."
Sam was interrupted from inquiring further by Harry's reemergence.
"Next time I say we make pit stops on the way."
"Maybe if you'd have pissed before we left you wouldn't have had to hold it for so long," Dean suggested as he sat on the bed next to Sam's. "Besides, we're halfway to Bobby's now."
Harry looked between the two brothers and then at the beds they were sitting on. "Uh, Sam?"
"Yes, Harry?" Sam asked, wondering where Harry was going with his question.
"Is there a reason you got a room with only two beds and no couch?" Harry asked pointedly.
Sam looked around the room, suddenly realizing his mistake. He laughed. "Sorry, Harry, I guess you'll have to bunk with one of us."
Dean shifted uneasily. "Looks like roommates are splitting a bed."
Harry eyed Dean for a moment, before a distinctly Marauder gleam entered his eye. "I don't know, Dean. As you so often like to point out, Sam is kind of a big guy. Might be more comfortable, for both of us, if I just slept with you."
Dean choked at the double meaning of Harry's last words.
"You okay, Dean?" Sam asked, worriedly.
Dean waves him off. "Just a little cough."
"I don't mind, Harry," Sam offered diplomatically. "I make room for Jess all the time."
There was silence as everyone registered Sam's slip in tense.
"I mean…" Sam started, before Harry put a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"It's alright, Sam. Dean doesn't mind. Do you, Dean."
Dean glared at Harry's pointed comment before nodding reluctantly.
That night…
As Sam slept peacefully in his own bed, Harry was disturbed by Dean's constant shifting of position.
"Is there a problem over there?" Harry asked quietly, rolling over to face Dean.
"No," Dean whispered sternly. "Just not used to sleeping with someone else in the bed."
"Well I know that's a lie," Harry chuckled suggestively.
"Will you be quiet?" Dean whispered, clearly panicked. "In case you've forgotten, your friend, and my brother, is asleep not five feet away."
"Doesn't that make it more exciting?" Harry teased, putting a hand on Dean's stomach.
Dean slid further away. "Go back to sleep, Harry."
Harry eyed the conspicuously large bulge below Dean's waist. "Do you require some assistance wrangling Big Dean, Dean? Luckily for you, I happen to be quite an expert in that department."
"I can't help it," Dean said frustrated and obviously exhausted. "This is what happens when you get too close to me."
Harry smirked. Dean blushed as he realized what he had just admitted to.
"So if I were to get closer," Harry asked as he slid over to Dean's side of the bed, "that would keep you, for lack of a better word, 'up' all night?"
Dean closed his eyes at the contact. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"I'm sorry, Dean. It's just – being cooped up in that hospital room with you next to me. Especially when it had been so long since we last…" Harry trailed off with a sigh. He pulled his hand away from Dean. "I guess you're not the only one having trouble staying… deflated."
"For lack of a better word?" Dean echoed Harry's words with a smile. Harry chuckled.
They smiled at each other in amiable silence.
"It's nice having you back, Dean."
"Right back at ya, Harry."
The Next Morning…
"Ready to see your new home?" Sam asked excitedly from the passenger seat. Dean merely grumbled something unintelligible at his brother.
Harry looked out the rear window in time to see a run down sign declaring that it was only one mile until they reached Singer Auto Salvage Yard.
"You have no idea," Harry responded.
A few minutes later they were pulling up the dirt road towards what was clearly a junkyard of some kind. Scraps of metal littered the ground around the road, increasing in size and quantity as they approached the house.
"I know it's not much, but," Dean shrugged. "you'd be surprised how good it can be here."
"I love it," Harry said, making sure not to include any trace of sarcasm. The house was rundown and eccentric… it reminded Harry of the best parts of The Burrow. If there was any doubt that Harry would like it at Bobby's, the Winchesters had none now.
Dean met Sam's eyes and they shared the same question: Who likes Bobby's this much?
"It reminds me of home," Harry said in response to the unasked question.
A middle-aged man stepped out of the screen door and onto the porch. There was a shotgun in his hand and a dog at his side. He was dressed in red and brown flannel, jeans, and a trucker's hat. When the Impala came to a stop the man spit some tobacco down the front steps. Harry was eerily reminded of some of Mad-Eye Moody's more interesting characteristics.
Of course, Harry always knew the best way to get to old Mad-Eye.
Harry plastered a large grin on his face before his hand even reached for the door handle. He slowly extracted himself from the car, careful not to tear any of his stitches, and grinned up at the man.
"Bobby, I presume?"
Bobby pursed his lips in response. Instead of answering Harry, he turned to look at Dean and Sam.
"Been a long time since I've seen this pair of Winchesters," he said.
"Hey, Bobby," Sam greeted warmly.
"Don't you use my first name, boy," Bobby ordered. "That's for people who have called me in the last year and pretty women. Unless you've picked up a damn phone or undergone a certain surgery in the last year, you can call me Mr. Singer."
Dean laughed. Harry smiled over the hood of the car at Sam's embarrassment.
"Oh, I like him already," Harry told Dean loudly.
"Bobby," Dean said, taking Harry's hint, "this is Harry."
"You can also call me, Mr. Singer," Bobby replied, before pointing the shotgun at the steps in front of them.
For the first time Harry noticed a glass on the steps.
"What's that?" Harry asked, confused.
"That's not necessary, Bobby," said Dean.
"Don't tell me what's necessary and what isn't, boy," Bobby told him. "When you're a hunter with bones as creaky as mine and hair as grey as mine, then I might take your advice. Until then, shut up and do as your told. Idjiot."
Harry took up the glass and looked at the brothers for guidance.
"It's holy water," Sam explained. "He's making sure you're just as human as the rest of us."
Harry wondered for a minute if the holy water would hurt him in some way. Could it detect his magic? Did it somehow make him less than human in this world?
With one last look at Dean, Harry downed the glass. Harry was tempted to fake a seizure of some kind but the way Bobby's hand was gripping the shotgun made Harry rethink his Marauder instinct. Better safe than with bullet holes, he told himself.
Apparently satisfied, Bobby turned around and went back inside of the house. The dog followed him, the screen door shutting behind them with a clang.
"At least he acknowledged my presence this time," Harry said hopefully.
"Yeah," Dean recognized. "Just don't get used to it. Bobby takes a bit to warm up to people."
"And then some," Sam added, grabbing the luggage from the Impala's trunk.
Four Days Later…
Dean was almost sad to see the note his father had left for him and Sam in his journal. Apparently his father wanted them to know he went to Black Water, Colorado. Which meant two things to Dean. First, that the brothers would be pursuing their wayward father there. Second, that it was time to leave Bobby's and that meant leaving Harry.
Everything had been going so well over the last couple of days that Dean had almost forgotten his father was missing. Dean had also almost forgotten that Sam's girlfriend had been slain by the Yellow-Eyed Demon. Dean had almost forgotten that he and Harry were no longer an item, despite their minor flirtations during the last few days.
Almost forgotten, being the key point.
To Sam and Dean's complete shock Bobby had taken to Harry the very next morning. Dean had woken up to the sound of Bobby laughing and the smell of fresh food in the kitchen. Dean smiled in memory of just how good of a cook Harry was. Then Dean was distracted by Big Dean and the memory of Harry's favorite past time: eating his food off of Dean.
Dean dressed when he was done tending to Big Dean's needs, and walked down the stairs to the kitchen. The kitchen was modest but Harry had obviously worked his magic. The small kitchen table was filled to the brim with pancakes, waffles, and toast. Sam was already filling his cakehole with as much homemade food as possible. He was also smiling, which pleased Dean to no end. His brother hadn't given a genuine smile since the funeral.
Harry was pouring Bobby a large cup of coffee. When the older man wasn't looking, Harry winked at Dean and poured a small amount of sugar in the coffee cup. Bobby was belly laughing deeply at whatever joke Harry had just told him.
"Morning, Dean," Sam greeted around a mouthful of waffle.
"Better eat what you can, Dean," Bobby warned him, "Sam, A.K.A. 'The Black Hole' over there isn't leaving you much."
"What?" Sam defended his hunger. "I forgot how good Harry could cook. Not my fault Dean stayed in bed so long."
Dean smiled as he sat down and pulled an empty plate towards him. Harry automatically loaded the dish with a stack of pancakes. He passed Dean the syrup and a small bowl of chopped up bananas.
"Banana pancakes are Dean's favorite," Sam said, unaware of the heart attack his innocent comment was giving his brother and his best friend.
Dean froze, his fork outstretched to spear some chopped banana pieces, as the weight of Sam's words hit him. Harry was a pro at lying, apparently, as he just kept on moving around the table as if nothing had jarred him. His eyes did flicker towards Dean's face though.
"Oh," Harry said, his voice coming out high-pitched. He cleared it. "I didn't know. Funny coincidence that."
"Yeah," said Bobby, looking between Dean and Harry's faces. "Coincidence."
Bobby took one of the pancakes off of Dean's plate and put it on his own. He drowned it with syrup, nodded at Harry, and said, "I guess Potter can stay."
"Oh, sure," said Harry sarcastically. "Now that you finally drove me to a store to let me buy supplies and cook now I can stay."
"Yup."
"Did you find anything in Dad's journal?" Sam asked, finishing buttering his toast and then reaching for the jam.
Dean paused for a minute, immediately alerting Harry that something was off.
"Yeah, Dad left us some coordinates."
Bobby glanced at Harry, gauging his reaction. "Where did that old bastard get off to?"
"Some uber-woodsy place in Colorado."
"Are you going to go after him?" Harry asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Of course," Sam answered. "You know wherever Dad's gone, he's hunting that yellow-eyed bastard."
Dean looked across the table at Harry. "That would be a 'yes' in Sammy speak."
"How soon?"
"It'll take a bit to get there, and we'll need time to prepare so… probably a day or two from now." Dean answered, trying to ignore the turmoil in Harry's eyes.
"And then you'll swing by here again?" Harry asked pointedly.
Sam smiled. "Don't worry, we won't leave you alone with Bobby for too long."
Bobby harrumphed in response.
"How long will it take?"
"Hopefully not too long," Dean answered. "I can't promise you anything though."
"No," Harry said, his voice like ice. "You can't."
Harry stalked away from the table, dirty dishes loaded up on his arms. Dean's only indication that Harry wasn't fine was the amount of effort he was putting into washing Bobby's dishes.
"What was that about?" Sam asked the table, staring at his friend's retreating back.
"Just eat, Big Foot," Bobby said, passing the plate of toast to the younger Winchester.
Later That Night…
Dean found Harry on the front porch.
He was sitting on the top step, wrapped tightly in one of Bobby's old blankets. The thing had more holes than Swiss cheese, but it was thick. Harry smiled at Dean's approaching figure, patting the wood beside him.
"Nice blanket," Dean mock complimented.
Harry laughed. "It's warm enough."
"Bobby seems to like you."
"I like him, too."
They sat in silence for a moment before Harry scooted closer to Dean. Dean took a cautionary glance behind them before wrapping an arm around him. Harry put his head on Dean's shoulder.
"Be safe out there, okay?"
"I will."
"I'm worried about Sam, Dean."
"I know. I am, too."
"He's really gung-ho about hunting this demon, Dean," Harry explained. "It's not like him to be so… bloodthirsty."
"He reminds me of Dad."
"Is that a good thing?"
Dean shrugged. "Dad was alone with two kids when Mom died. I think that Sam's got a much better chance now that he has us with him."
"Damn right."
Harry tentatively put his hand on Dean's leg.
"Harry, don't," Dean warned, but he did not make a motion to withdraw his leg from Harry's reach.
"Why not?" Harry asked, his lips so close to the sensitive portion of Dean's throat that he could feel his breath. "Now that you're leaving, you don't want me?"
"I do want you, Harry, but there's no reason to rush this."
"You're leaving in a few days for God knows how long, Dean," Harry pointed out with a chuckle. "When else am I supposed to seduce you?"
"I'm coming back."
Harry moved away from Dean, shaking his head sadly. "It's always something, Dean."
"What does that mean?" Dean demanded.
"First, we can't be together because you're Sam's brother." Harry said, adding a finger to represent a new tally against Dean. "Then, I find out you're Sam's brother, and you take off because you lied about being a hunter. Now, I know about Sam and I know about your hunting and it's still not good enough."
"That's not fair, Harry."
"No, it's not."
Harry stood and made to move back into the house. Dean ignored every cautious bone in his body and leapt up after him. He spun Harry around and pressed him up against the front door. Harry's mouth found his, and then his fingers were moving through Dean's hair.
"You better come back," Harry ordered him, before returning to his assault on Dean's lips.
Dean felt his way down Harry's pant leg, grabbing the younger man firmly. Harry gasped and moaned loudly. A light in the house clicked on, dragging Dean's attention back to reality. He froze in panic as he heard footsteps moving down the rickety staircase.
Harry took one look at Dean's stricken face and cursed out loud. He grabbed Dean's hand and dragged him off the porch. After a few moments of walking they entered the junkyard behind Bobby's home, easily losing themselves in the discarded auto parts.
"Where are we going?" Dean asked.
"Away from the house," Harry snapped at him immediately. "That's what you want, right? To not have to be seen with me?"
Dean kicked a small metallic object into the distance. "Damn it, Harry. It's not that simple."
"Telling your brother that you're gay?"
"I'm not gay," Dean returned angrily.
"Oh, was that a different Dean Winchester with his tongue down my throat a few minutes ago?" Harry asked sarcastically.
"It's complicated."
"So I hear."
Harry sat on the hood of a battered Pontiac. "I thought it would be different between us this time."
Dean sighed. "I know you did. I'm sorry."
"Than fix it, Dean." Harry ordered him. "I want to be with you. I spent the last year kicking myself for letting you go without a fight. I have you back now, and I'll be damned if I just sit here and let you drive me away because you're afraid."
Dean wouldn't meet his eyes.
"Come find me when you're ready to grow up, Dean," Harry implored him. "I want to date you, Dean, not just fuck you."
Harry disappeared in the direction of the house.
"Me, too, Harry," Dean whispered to no one. "Me, too."
The Next Night…
The bedroom was so hot that Dean felt like his whole body was on fire.
Dean tried shedding his usual night apparel, but even without his shirt and pajama bottoms he was still too warm. His bed sheets and comforter had long ago been discarded and banished to the floor. The small window, the only window in the bedroom Bobby had assigned to him, was open and completely unhelpful. Dean rolled over to the other side of the bed and looked at the clock.
"3:14," Dean muttered to himself. "Only 3 minutes since the last time I checked the damn thing."
Dean turned towards the door as a creaking floorboard sounded outside of his room. Dean's heart started to beat loudly. He hoped it was Harry coming to see him again. He also feared that it was Harry.
Harry had made it perfectly clear what he wanted from Dean. Of course it was the one thing Dean had little faith he was capable of giving: a relationship. Harry was the closest he'd ever come to letting someone in completely. He knew about Dean's history, his complicated relationship with Sam, and even about his man-whore ways.
So why can't I fucking date him? Dean mentally asked himself angrily.
When the floorboards creaked again, Dean sprang into action. He flung open the door and found Bobby's dog glaring up at him. Dean's heart sank.
"Scram, Mutt."
The dog growled at him but continued on its course down the hallway and into the living room area. Dean looked at the door across from his and willed it to open. To his great disappointment Harry's door refused to follow his mental orders.
"Screw it," Dean said, and padded barefoot across the dusty floorboard and stalked up to Harry's door. He waited, hand raised to knock, before summoning his courage and knocking on the door softly.
Harry opened the door immediately, startling Dean.
"Dean," Harry breathed in greeting, a smile of relief spreading across his handsome features.
Dean entered the room and cupped Harry's face in his hands. As Harry wrapped his arms around his broad shoulders, Dean locked their lips together. He felt Harry's smile against his own lips and took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside.
"When I said I wanted an answer, I didn't mean in the middle of the night," Harry joked, before raking his gaze down Dean's sweat covered body. "Not that I don't like the presentation."
Dean had forgotten how naked he was in just his boxers, not that they were much help with the sweat making them cling to his body. Instead, they looked skintight.
"Couldn't sleep," Dean responded, closing the door quietly behind him and locking it.
"Planning on staying?" Harry asked hopefully.
Dean led him to the bed and laid him down. Harry ran a hand down the firm muscles of Dean's chest and abdomen. Dean grabbed his hand before Harry's skilled fingers could reach the waistband of his boxers.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked, his eyes questioning.
Dean climbed into the bed next to him, sitting his back up against the headboard. Harry complied limply when Dean pulled him flush up against his body. Dean made sure to leave Harry's head on his chest.
"Dean?" Harry asked again when the older man remained non-responsive for a few minutes.
Dean swallowed. "If I look at you, I won't be able to get through this, okay?"
Harry nodded his head slowly against Dean's frame. "Okay."
"I know what you want from me, Harry." Dean's hand tightened around Harry's side. "I would be lying if I said I didn't want you, but if I mess this up… if I mess us up, I don't want to lose you as my friend. I don't want to make Sam lose his friend."
Harry kissed his stomach in reassurance, but didn't interrupt.
"I've never been good with monogamy. I've never been good with telling the truth or anything. I have to lie because everyone I tell the truth to thinks that I am crazy. You're the first person who's ever stuck around, even when I tried to push them away."
Dean felt water building in his eyes. "And you have no idea how messed up I am right now. I just got my brother back, and there's nothing I wouldn't do for him. His girlfriend's dead and I can't do anything to help him feel better. I'm his big brother and I can't help him. My Dad is missing, and I, I… I think he's dead. And I swear to God, Harry, if you tell Sam that I'll never speak to you again."
Harry snuggled closer in response, turning their spooning into a semi-hug. Dean didn't realize how long it had been since someone had hugged him.
"And I've never wanted anyone like I want you. And I know I shouldn't say this, but I've always loved women. I still do. I don't know why you're the exception, but I'm happy you are. I don't know what that makes me, okay? But I'm working on it."
"I want to love you, Harry. I want to be there for you and I want to try to make us work. But you have to know," Dean said, finally turning Harry's head up to face him. "I will mess this up. I will hurt you in some way. But you can't hate me, Harry, you just can't. You're the first friend I've made since the sixth grade. Sammy needs you. I need you."
Harry just stared at him, making Dean even more disgusted with himself for his speech. For the life of him, Dean couldn't figure out why he was tearing up. Worse yet, he couldn't stop it.
"Can I talk now?" Harry asked gently.
Dean nodded shakily.
"There's a lot I could say to try to make you feel better, Dean," Harry said slowly. "Like how I'm just as likely to hurt you. How I would never leave Sam no matter what happened between us. That your friendship over the last few years meant more than all the fantastic sex combined."
Dean snorted in amusement. Harry smiled at him.
"But more important than that," Harry continued, cupping Dean's face. "I promise that I'm not going anywhere if you don't."
"So I guess this means that we're… what, dating?" Dean asked, laughing at himself. "Boyfriends?"
Harry laughed at the awkward term. "Let's not use that word, it doesn't really fit us."
Dean smiled. "Deal."
Harry kissed him on the lips before going after the flesh on his neck. Harry moved down to his chest, then sucked on each nipple. Dean moaned as Harry's mouth slipped lower and lower worshiping whatever flesh it could find.
He didn't even notice when Harry flung a hand at the walls around them, protecting the noise of their amorous lovemaking from awaking the rest of the household.
The Next Day…
Lawrence, Kansas
Missouri opened the door before John had a chance to knock. She smirked as she saw his arm was still poised to knock.
"Missouri," John greeted before stepping past her and into the house.
"I don't care how far back we go, John Winchester," Missouri warned as she closed and bolted the door behind her, "but you should know better than to just barge into a woman's home without so much as a 'may I come in'."
"Did you see me ask in your vision?" John asked, eyebrow raised.
"Of course I did."
John smirked. "Well then why go through the motions?"
Missouri frowned and poured him some ice tea. She waited until he took a sip before asking, "Did you know that one of your sons is sleeping with a man?"
John spewed out his mouthful of ice tea and began to cough.
"What?!?" he exclaimed.
Missouri smirked. "I was going to build up to that with some small talk, but, as you said, why bother going through the motions, right John?"
As John stared at her open mouthed, Missouri took a petite sip from her glass.
"Is it Sammy?" John asked.
"Uh-huh, John Winchester," Missouri tutted at him. "I ain't dragging one of your boys out of the closet before he's ready."
"I'm their father, and I deserve to know."
"You going to love them any less?" Missouri demanded.
"Well, no," John backtracked. "As long as they are with humans I suppose I can't complain. Love is love right?"
"How very progressive of you, John," Missouri complimented him. "Just remember that you said that in the future."
"Is that the reason I'm here, Missouri?" John questioned. "You're concerned about my parenting habits?"
"Oh, Lord knows I've tried to change your parenting skills since day one, John Winchester," Missouri recalled. "That's never stopped you from dragging those poor boys from state to state killing every evil thing that came across your path."
"Says the woman who set me on that course."
"I didn't set you on anything, that was your choice the moment you left my house that first night. Don't you blame me for just trying to inform your ignorant ass."
John took a long gulp of ice tea. Missouri tossed a wooden coaster onto the table in front of him. John nodded his head in thanks.
"Why did you call me again?" John asked in his most polite voice.
"You were never very good at small talk. Ever just try asking someone how they are?"
"You're not going to tell me until I ask, are you?" John asked. "Fine. How are you, Missouri?"
Missouri waved a hand dismissively at him. "Oh, don't even ask. I've got such horrible migraines from my visions lately and my mortgage is out of control. Rather this economy is out of control. Plus, this house is just falling apart and I can't afford to fix it up. Which means I have to fix it myself. I may be a working woman but that doesn't mean I'm capable of fixing the plumbing and painting the house! That's what a man's for. Only I can't find the time to find a man because I'm too busy keeping my third eye trained on your funky eye colored demon! Even when I do go on dates, my damn migraines keep interfering. Did I mention the migraines?"
"Missouri," John growled angrily. "I asked how you were, not for your life story."
"A polite person would offer to look at the faulty sink," said Missouri.
"As you just took the afternoon to point out to me, Missouri," John retorted. "I am not a polite person."
"It's fine," Missouri said, waving away the issue, "your boys will be here soon enough. They'll help me out."
John sat up straight. "My boys are together? Since when?"
"Since that demon of yours killed poor Sam's girlfriend," Missouri said sadly. "She was such a sweet child."
"The demon went after Sam?"
"If you bothered to check your messages," Missouri lectured, "or called your children every now and then, you'd know all this."
John was already whipping out his phone. "I sent Dean after some of my leftover hunts. I didn't know he'd get Sammy… or that this would happen."
"It was always going to happen, John," Missouri reminded him. "I keep telling you what's coming. No matter what you do, your boys will be at the center of this."
Missouri took the glasses to the kitchen while John listened to the messages Dean and others had left him. A few minutes later John followed her into the kitchen, shrugging his coat on.
"Leaving already?" she inquired.
"You said the boys were on their way, I need to leave."
"Not even going to ask why they're coming to Lawrence, Kansas before you hit the road to avoid your children?"
"Just tell me, Missouri. I'm not in the mood."
"Your wife's spirit is in your old home, John."
"Mary?"
"That was her name, sweetheart."
John leaned heavily against the countertop. "The boys are coming to exorcize her?"
"Not exactly," Missouri explained softly. "Mary is keeping the current residents safe from something else… something very evil and cruel."
"The demon?" John's hand went to his gun.
"No, John, try to stay on point."
"Try to get to the point, then."
"The point is that the boys are coming to get rid of the spirit."
"I can do that right now."
"No," Missouri said firmly, stepping in front of the door. "The boys need to be here, so that you can go to Singer."
"Bobby?" John asked, incredulously. "I haven't spoken to Bobby in almost a year."
"And whose fault is that, John Winchester?" Missouri snapped. "It doesn't matter anyways. It's not Bobby you're going to go see."
"Than who?"
"One of Sam's friend from Stanford named Harry Potter," Missouri said.
"Sam brought one of his friends from school to meet Bobby?" John asked angrily. "I taught him better than to use hunting as a means of impressing his friends."
"Harry isn't just some college buddy, John." Missouri settled her hands on John's shoulders to keep him focused. "He survived the demon's attack on Sam's girlfriend. He's important to what you're trying to do. He's at the center of all of this."
"Okay," John said, nodding his head to show his acceptance of the plan. "Talk with this Harry Potter. Got it."
John was at the door when Missouri's voice stopped him. "Oh, and John?"
"Yeah?"
"Be nice to the boy," Missouri advised. "He's going to be a big part of your family's life. A very big part."
"I'm always nice," John said, closing the door behind him.
"You better be," Missouri muttered, already compiling a mental list of chores for the Winchester brothers to complete upon their arrival. "This one ain't going to take none of your crap."
Three Days Later…
Singer Auto Salvage Yard
Harry groaned as Dean's alarm went off.
"Dean," he muttered tiredly. "Turn that fucking thing OFF."
It was Dean's turn to groan. Instead of turning off the alarm, he smashed the damn thing. The motion moved Dean's bed sheet off of Harry, so he snuggled in to Dean's side for warmth. Dean wrapped an arm around the younger man's shoulder.
"Remind me again why we set that for 4AM?" Harry asked into Dean's chest.
"So you can go back to your room before Sam wakes up," Dean answered, stifling a yawn in the process.
"Sure you don't want to just come clean with your brother?" Harry asked.
"Harry," Dean said warningly. "We talked about this for like 2 hours last night."
"No," Harry corrected, poking Dean in the side. "We discussed it for about 10 minutes before you started taking my clothes off."
Dean smiled at the memory. "What can I say? I like you to be all natural."
"You realize we really will have to talk about this at some point, right?"
"Why?" Dean whined. "Every time we talk we break up. I'd rather not do that again. Although I do like all the make-up sex."
"I think that's because you do most of the talking and then we break up," Harry thought aloud. "Maybe if you'd just do what I say we would have been having a lot more sex this past year."
"But I like it when your mouth does other things," Dean complained suggestively.
Harry punched him in the gut. "Don't be crass, Dean. It's too early."
"Ouch," Dean said, rubbing his stomach. "Wendigo beat me up last week, Harry. I really don't need your help getting more bruises."
Harry scrunched his face up in apology. "Sorry."
"It's alright." Dean replied, rolling on top of Harry. "I might know how you can make it up to me."
"Oh, really?"
Harry giggled at Dean's movements before recasting his silencing spells around the room. Dean kissed his way up from Harry's neck back to his lips. His hands traveled up the front of Harry's chest then slowly came back down.
Dean undid the fly to Harry's boxers and reached into the material stroking him firmly. Harry whimpered against Dean's mouth, thrusting into the hand wrapped around him. He quickly unfastened Dean's underwear as well, and Dean abandoned his actions long enough to slide them off himself.
Dean grabbed Harry under his rear and flipped the younger man onto his front. Dean usually enjoyed being able to look Harry in the eyes when he was inside of him. However, Harry's labored breathing indicated that he was enjoying being dominated in this manner.
Dean reached into the familiar dresser drawer and retrieved his condom and lube.
"Ready?" Dean breathed the question into Harry's ear
Harry nodded against the pillow.
A few hours later Harry awoke to the feeling of Dean's bare chest rising and falling under his cheek. It was a most ideal way to wake up, much better than waking up to the alarm clock.
He shifted a bit so that he could look up at Dean. Dean's face was relaxed, and the sunlight made his features glow. Here and now, Dean was god like. His performance earlier in the morning only intensified the impression.
Or at least it did until Dean lifted one eyelid and smirked back at him.
"I'm sorry my beauty is too great to sleep next to," he said proudly. "I'm happy you've discovered the joys of watching me sleep."
"You're so handsome. I can't help myself." Harry said honestly.
Dean's smirk evaporated at Harry's words. "You really mean that, don't you? I think I could get used to this whole domesticity thing."
Harry nodded. Dean leaned down and kissed him softly on the lips.
"How long were we asleep?" Dean asked.
"Don't know," Harry answered. "It's not getting dark out or anything, so we can't have overslept that long."
"Shit," Dean muttered, glancing at his watch. "Sam's already awake."
"I can always sneak out through the window again," Harry offered sheepishly. "I'm sorry. It's my fault we fell asleep."
"I remember it a bit differently," Dean responded. "And no window exits again, Batman. You almost broke your neck last time."
Harry and Dean hopped out of bed and began getting dressed. They tossed each other articles of clothing that were strewn haphazardly around the bed.
"So when are you and Sam coming back again?" Harry asked, pulling his jeans back on.
Dean shrugged. "Sam says we have to go back to Lawrence."
"Kansas?" Harry asked incredulously. "Like your hometown?"
"The one and only."
"Is this one of his visions acting up?"
Dean nodded. "Involves our old home, too."
Harry decided to change topics. Dean would bring it up if he wanted to discuss Sam's psychic abilities more. "What about your Dad? Trail still cold?"
"We'll find him."
"Just be careful, Dean."
"Aren't I always?"
Two Days Later…
"Harry!" Bobby shouted up the stairs. "We've got company!"
Harry grabbed the shotgun from under his bed and bolted down the stairs. It had been two weeks since he'd left the hospital. His wounds were no longer sore thanks to the mixture of Muggle medicine and his magical healing abilities. The moment he had been feeling good enough to move around Bobby had started his physical training. Before that Bobby had him steadily reading through the massive library on the occult that had accumulated over the years.
"Who is it?" Harry asked, looking out of the living room window through a built in cut in the blinds.
"I don't believe it," Bobby muttered, unlocking the front door. "That son of a bitch."
"Wait, Bobby," Harry called after him, scrambling out the door. "Who is it?"
The mysterious black truck pulled up and stopped right outside of the front steps. A middle-aged man stepped out of the drivers seat.
The stranger stared up at Bobby. Bobby stared right back, his dog growling next to him. When the stranger's eyes met Harry's, the wizard couldn't help but use a bit of instinctual legilimency to discover his identity.
"John Winchester."
Author's Notes: You guys continue to dominate with reviews! As a thank you, I'm writing more each day than usual, so hopefully there will be faster updates to come. Having said that, I should warn you that the next two weeks are the last in my fall semester which means one thing: FINALS!!! They are scary, and they take lots of studying and preparation. This will seriously eat at my writing time.
Once my finals are done, I will be free on Winter Break for about a month and writing every single day. So at least there's that to look forward to. If you check out my profile, you can see the progress of chapters and such. We're now over halfway done with the story. I expect to be done sometime around January. Not to worry, I already have the sequel planned out down to the chapter titles :)
I want to thank everyone who reviewed. You made my Thanksgiving Day so much more enjoyable than it would have been. It was nice to get all those reviews popping up on my iPhone all day. It was really touching that you took some time during your holiday to review so… THANKS!!!
As far as I can tell everyone is excited to not be sticking to episode by episode of the series. I will use certain selections but only if they serve a purpose in the story. These episodes may not be in the same order as they were aired on television.
This chapter is the last one that sets up plotlines so I apologize if it felt a little empty of "progress". I tried to make up for that by giving you some nice Harry/Dean moments. We're reaching the end of the story now so expect more cliffhangers, more climaxes, and big revelations in almost every chapter. Most of my character development and scene settings are done now that this chapter is complete.
We're on our way to the finale of part one! Who's excited?
Please let me know what you thought of Missouri and Bobby! I tried my best with them, but I need some reassurance or HELPFUL advice on how to improve them.
As always, it's only polite to leave a REVIEW!!!