Chapter 7

Ooooo~ Thank you all so much for your reviews! Here's the next chapter~!

Apocalypse Begin

Well, Bedford here we come…

Harry sighed as he relaxed into the back seat of the impala. The Siren in Bedford was an absolute bitch. First it had seduced Dean, and then told him to kill Sam. Harry who had come over to see what the fuss was about was absolutely pissed when he had discovered Dean holding a knife to his younger brother's throat.

Then the man (Nick was his name if he remembered the information from the Winchesters correctly) literally spit in the younger brother's mouth. Then that bastard told them to fight and they did.

So Harry had tackled the Siren and sent murderous punches (full of his magic) straight at the bastards beautiful mug. The brothers at that point decided protecting the Siren was more important and stopped their squabbling long enough to take Harry down.

Nick had stood and wiped the blood from his bruised face and ordered, "Kill him."

And Harry had no doubt they would have too if Bobby hadn't saved the day by ganking the monster. Especially because of the axe that was almost embedded in his face.

"Harry?"

"Yeah Sam?"

"I really am sorry you know."

"Don't worry about it. It's like Bobby said. That was one nasty creature and neither you nor Dean are at fault."

Sam was silent and Harry could see his face was still full of remorse. And Dean's hands were clenched so tight on the steering wheel his knuckles were white. The wizard gave a grunt of exasperation.

"Look if it's any consolation, I forgive you both. You don't really need it but now you have it. Can we please get over the pity party?"

No one said anything for the rest of the ride.

It was much later as they were passing into Greybull, Wyoming that Harry started to feel extremely ill. Something was not right in this town. The balance was, well… unbalanced. There were so many deaths that should have occurred but had not. And it was making him quite sick.

Much later after Dean yelling at him not to puke on his baby, they had found a motel. Sam laid him on the bed and sat vigil while Dean hesitantly put some wet cloths over his head.

"What do you think is wrong with him?"

"I don't know. It happened right when we crossed the city line. That can't be a coincidence," Sam answered solemnly.

"Yeah…"

"Just… start the… case," Harry croaked weakly. "It's the deaths… unbalanced…"

"The deaths are unbalanced?"

"Well nobody has died here in quite a while. It's why Bobby gave us this case, remember," Sam said slowly.

Dean grunted but pulled up the address of the survivor of the point blank shooting. "Well, here we come, Jimmy!"

It was night time and Harry still hadn't gotten better. It was seriously freaking Dean out. And there was, maybe, a little worry in there too. Not that he'd say so. But Star was his baby brother's friend. One that had even saved Sam's life. It wasn't that easy to forget something of that magnitude.

And now when the pastor was down and out for the count they couldn't do anything. Except solve the case according to Harry…

The door opened and Sam strolled in with a greeting on his lips.

"Anything," asked Dean.

"That cancer survivor? He was clinically dead. His wife pulled the plug and now he's taking them out for their twentieth anniversary."

Dean glanced at Harry before refocusing on his brother. "Any sign of a deal?"

"No. What about you? Found anyone dying around here?"

"Not since Cole Griffith."

Harry moaned and tossed lightly as if in a nightmare. They both looked over concerned. The look on Sam's face was a bit heartbreaking. It was as if his brother's world was starting to crumble. It was sort of scary how attached Sam was to the pastor for only knowing him about a month. (Maybe more considering their past encounters.)

"He dropped ten days ago," he said to distract Sam. "He was the last death I could find."

"So what are you thinking?"

"Eh. Maybe it is what the people say it is."

Sam went to the laptop scoffing along the way. Dean stood and moved to the bed with their third party member.

"Miracles? Dean, in our experience, when do miracles just happen?"

"Well the pastor is one hell of an example…"

"Excluding him."

"Well, there's no deals. There's no, uh, skeevy faith healers," Dean said as he went to the small kitchenette and poured himself some coffee. "I mean these souls just ain't getting dragged into the light."

Epiphany lit over Sam's face and he shared his idea with his brother. "Maybe, 'cause there's no one around to carry them."

Dan made his way back over to his brother asking, "What do you mean?"

"Well, grim reapers- that's what they do right? Schlep souls? So if death ain't in town-"

Harry thrashed again on the bed.

"Then nobody's dyin'. So what? The local reaper's on strike? Playing the black nine? I don't know, Sam."

Harry thrashed again and his mouth opened in a silent scream before he sat up straight and gasped in a shuddering breath. His green eyes glowed a poisonous green and even his tan skin seemed to be glowing. Before it died down.

Harry was lost. His senses were gone. There was nothing there but the feeling of absolute wrong. Death was not in this town. The reapers were missing and it wasn't because of going on strike like he heard an echoing voice say. No something else was happening and…

And! The scythe! Death's scythe. It was here! In this town, where reapers were missing and it was almost winter solstice… Yes something was very wrong but he couldn't remember exactly why.

The wizard sat up with a gasp and sucked in as much oxygen as his starving body needed. Sweat soaked through his shirt and pants and a cold wet towel lay across the blankest by his feet as if it had been flung there.

"Harry!"

Sam was at his side in an instant and Dean approached more slowly. "You okay midget?"

"Water," he rasped pleadingly.

Sam looked at Dean who nodded and fetched a glass and then handed it to Harry. The Master of Death sipped his water carefully and let out a sigh as the relief spread through his throat and stomach.

"What happened," Dean asked.

"The… the air around here is stifling. Something is missing… The reapers, they… they're gone. There must be balance but death is not here to keep it."

Sam looked confused and Dean asked if he'd been listening in on their conversation. Harry shook his head.

"Then how did you know?"

"I can feel it."

"Got to give a better answer than that short stuff."

Harry huffed before slowly sipping more water. "You know I might be an angel. And I might be. If I am, though, I know for a fact that I am the Angel of Death."

"Whoah! First you're a pastor porn star and now a death angel?"

Harry just glared at Dean balefully.

"We should talk to someone who might know what happened to the reapers," Sam cut in.

"Well, last I checked, huggy bear ain't available."

Harry looked confused and Sam just sighed. "No, dude, the kid."

"The kid? The kid's a doornail."

"What kid?"

Dean was the one to explain. "The last person to die in this town."

"Exactly. If he was the last to die, he might have seen something. We should talk to him."

"I love how matter-of-fact you are about that. Strange lives." Dean slurped some more coffee.

Harry couldn't agree more.

The Master of Death sat watching Dean and Sam set up the ritual to summon a ghost. It had taken much bribing and wheedling on his part to allow him to come as Harry was still very ill. He didn't want to miss this though. He needed to know what was going on.

"You sure this is gonna work?"

"No, but if his spirit's around this should smoke him out," replied Sam.

The preparations continued.

"This job is jacked."

"Why," Harry asked.

"You want me to gank a monster or touch a corpse, hey, let's light it up, right? But this? If we fix whatever this is people are gonna start dropping dead. Good people."

"It's the natural order of things Dean. Everyone dies someday. Others sooner than later."

"Look, I don't want them to die either. But Harry's right."

"You're kidding right?"

"What?" Harry was confused too.

"You don't see the irony in that? I mean, you and me, we're like the poster boys of the unnatural order. All we do is ditch death."

Harry wanted to say that it was supposed to be that way but he didn't think Dean would appreciate that so kept his mouth shut.

"Yeah but normal rules don't apply to us do they," Sam argued.

No they don't…

Dean stared but finally said, "We're no different than anybody else."

Not true…

"Look, I know you want to think of yourself as Joe the Plumber, Dean but you're not." Harry snorted in laughter but Sam continued ignoring him, "Neither am I. The sooner you accept that the better off you're gonna be."

"Ah. Joe the Plumber was a douche."

"You going to help me finish this?"

Dean stood to help when a loud shout reached their ears. Sam and Dean spun around and Harry perilously pulled himself from his seated position in the grass. The wizard leaned on a tomb inconspicuously as, what looked like, the gravedigger came closer with a flashlight.

"What are you doing here?"

"Uh…" Sam glanced at Dean. "Just take it easy."

"What the hell is this?"

Dean started stuttering, "Okay this-this-this is not what it looks like."

"It looks like devil worship to me." Was that amusement in those eyes? The hell?

"What? No! No, this is not devil worship. This- this is-this is, uh-… I don't have a good answer."

Harry narrowed his eyes as the man's form seemed to flicker giving way to the nasty for underneath.

"We're leaving," Sam said turning to Harry to help him walk.

"Sam," the wizard hissed urgently. "Demon."

Sam's eyebrows scrunched.

"You're not going anywhere." Now both brothers were wearing cautious expressions. Sam more so due to Harry's warning. "Ever again. Sam."

The man looked at Dean, his eyes flashing white and the older Winchester all but recoiled.

"Alastair. I thought you got deep-fried, extra-crispy."

Harry knew that name. It was most prominently displayed in his most recent dream. An angel that had been friends with Harry's angel self. But now Alastair was twisted and Fallen. That did explain the black wings the demon was sporting, though."

"Nah. Just the pediatrician I was riding. His wife's still looking for him. It's hilarious. Anyway, no time to chat. Got a hot date with death."

Dean was sent flying and Sam was supposed to follow but nothing happened. Harry, thankful that he had mostly yet to be noticed, sunk down slowly behind the tombstone he had been leaning on. He was getting a nagging feeling the more he focused on Alastair. Like he was carrying something familiar…

"You're stronger, Sam. You been soloflexing with your little slut?"

"You have no idea!"

Alastair fled before he could be exorcised by Sam.

On the car ride back, Harry fell asleep but not before giving his warning again. "Sam, I know I told you before if you aren't careful it will consume you. I don't want to lose a friend…"

The next morning Harry was rudely awakened when Sam barged in his room (they had bought it for him now that he seemed a little better and could handle himself) and dragged him into theirs. Then he explained their crazy idea of turning into ghosts to find Cole. And, conveniently, before he could ask any questions, a knock sounded at the door.

"I can't even begin to tell how you how crazy you guys are," the woman said.

"Pamela, how are you doing?"

"Aw, just fine, grumpy," she said removing her glass and hanging them from her shirt. "So, which one of you braniacs came up with the idea of astral projection?"

Harry was curious too. But when Dean raised his hand he couldn't help but snort, "What did you have a concussion?"

Dean glared.

"Of course. Chachi. So, let's be clear. You want to rip your souls out of your bodies and take a little stroll through the spirit world."

Harry didn't know why they wanted to bring him along and he was grateful for it but he wasn't sure it was a good idea. Last time he became a spirit he had wings and according to his dreams people eyes would burn out if they saw the true form of an angel. He would rather not blind anybody.

"Do you have any idea how heavy-duty insane that is?"

"Maybe but that's where the reaper is, so…"

"So, it's nuts."

"Not if you know what you're doing."

"You don't know what you're doing."

"No, but you do. And so does the midget over here."

"Oi!"

"Yeah, I do," Pamela said ignoring Harry's outburst. "And guess what? I don't know if I want to be hauled into your angel-demon, Soc-Greaser crap."

"Look, I'd love to be kicking back watching Judge Judy, too," Dean sneered. "We're talking the end of the world here, okay? No more tasseled leather pants, no more Ramones CD's, no more nothing." Dean paused. "We need your help."

"I still don't know why you guys are including me. I'm not a psychic like I'm assuming she is."

Sam sighed and rubbed his head. "You said you think you're the angel of death," Pamela looked at them oddly, "so who better to navigate the realm of the dead?"

"Alright, alright fine…"

Hours were spent getting props and ingredients for the ritual while Harry ad Pamela meditated. Finally everything was ready and Pamela pulled herself from her trance with a question on those plump lips, "Tell me something, geniuses. Even if you do break into the veil and find the reaper, how you gonna save it?"

They both glanced at Harry before turning back to the psychic.

"With style and class," Dean replied in a cocky manner.

"You're gonna be three walking pieces of fog that can't touch or move anything. You'll be defenseless, hotshot."

"I seem to recall a bunch of ghosts beating the crap out of us," Sam piped in.

"Yeah, well, they had plenty of time to practice."

"Well, then, I guess we got to start cramming," Dean said.

"Wow, couple of heroes alright." Pamela patted a bed. "Lie down and close your eyes."

After everyone was situated (the beds pushed together, the two Winchesters lying straight and Harry at the foot) she started her chant. "Animum vult decipi, ergo decipiatur. Vis, vis, vis. Okay. That's it guys. Show time."

Harry slowly watched as the world faded into shades of blues and greys. There was a light radiating from his body but no wings, luckily. Though his back did feel very itchy as if there was something trapped underneath the skin.

"Whoah, human glow torch here!"

Harry glanced at Dean in annoyance and looked over to see Pamela whisper something in Sam's ear that caused him to grin. He must have missed some conversation while he was examining himself.

"Seriously, dude, why are you glowing?"

"How should I know," the wizard snapped.

Later they were walking down the street when a jogger went straight through Sam. Harry, having learned to look for it could see the mischievous glint in Dean's eyes. The older brother stuck his hand straight through the bigger one's chest.

"Am I making you uncomfortable," Dean asked grinning.

"Get out of me."

Harry laughed at how inappropriate that sounded and Sam glared at him as well.

"You're such a prude. Even the pastor is better than you! Come on."

Hours later

They were still searching and nothing was to be found. Dean was complaining and Sam was complaining about Dean whining. When Sam glanced up he said seriously, "Hey. Three o' clock. Kid in the window."

And there he was. The same boy they had showed to him in the picture. He wanted to put the boy to rest and his back itched even more so than before. It was really starting to get on his nerves. So when the Winchester went into the house to speak to Cole Harry didn't follow. Instead he turned and followed the itch that sort of felt like a tug. Sam and Dean wouldn't notice his disappearance for a while he was sure. He'd been quiet enough being ill lately…

Harry had been right. The Winchesters didn't notice his absence until midway through their chat with Tessa the Reaper when they turned to ask him a question and he wasn't there.

"Shit! Where'd the kid go?"

"Cole," Tessa asked.

"No. No, Harry. He… he was here with us. Um… he's got-uh, some powers that are useful here."

"I'm not leaving town, Dean."

"Well, then, could you hold off until we fix this? Please."

Dean though wasn't really paying attention to the conversation anymore. Instead he was freaking out about losing Harry. The pastor had followed them into house, right?

Sam was thinking the same thing so when Tessa agreed; Sam said he would talk to Cole. The boy was smart. He would most likely know if Harry came in and maybe even what happened to him.

Harry meandered through the town slowly. He was in absolutely no rush. He didn't know what the itching meant and if it was bad he would need a plan. Hence, the meandering mostly focused toward the tug. He had tested touching things on his way and it was like he wasn't even dead. That would definitely come in handy.

Harry didn't know how long he'd slowly been going towards the pull but he had finally arrived at what looked like a funeral home that was covered in glowing blue diagrams and lines and the sky was dark. The moon was just starting to come out and Harry shivered. That was an ominous moon.

Cautiously he entered only to throw himself against the wall as black smoke tore through the hallway and out the door. The wizard sucked in a shaky breath and pushed onwards. The pull was getting stronger and the itch even worse. In the middle of a large room was a square with triangles on each side forming an eight pointed star with squiggles at each point.

A trap. A sacrificial trap that the two reapers in the middle of would not be able to escape. The itch stopped and Harry thought it was the reapers he was here for until it started up again pulling him in another direction. The next room he came upon (about thirty minutes later) housed two demons. One was Alistair, the one from the graveyard, but he didn't know the second one. Must be a minion. The glow around him had receded thankfully, keeping him from being found.

Harry was not a stupid man. He knew he should not take on a fallen angel with no help. Especially not with his powers bound. That would be tantamount to suicide. Though, he wondered if he would stay dead or if death would push him back into the living again. So he waited. He waited until he left and slowly followed behind. Eventually he lost him because Alistair seemed to be one paranoid son of a bitch even though he was arrogant. But the itching pull was still there. So he followed it.

Gunshots made Harry move a little faster and Harry figured he was going the long way around to the main room he had been in before. When he could see the glowing sigils again the itch in his back became a painful burn. The wizard staggered forward.

Vaguely, through the pain, he could hear chanting. Chanting that was wrong, wrong, wrong. Chanting that needed to be stopped. So he did. Barreling into the room at full force, Harry tackled Alistair causing him to drop the stirring reaper.

Then his eyes landed on the scythe held in the demons hands and the burning abruptly stopped, though it still faintly itched.

"Harry!"

"That doesn't belong to you," Harry snarled reaching for the scythe. Death's scythe.

Sam and Dean could only watch in growing horror as the pastor practically wrestled with the demon to get the object in his hands. Sam looked everywhere, hoping to see something that could help. There was a chandelier above the reapers trap. If they could knock it down…

Dean agreed and they both mentally focused on tearing the chandelier from its hooks.

Harry still wrestling with Alistair and could not be thrown into the wall because every time the demon tried, Alistair started to fly with the wizard because of Harry's grip. Eventually the demon stropped trying but that didn't mean his punches were any less powerful.

In a deep part of Harry's mind he was very grateful he hadn't attacked alone. He never would have won. But now. One-on-one. With the spiritual version of adrenaline, he could be equally matched. A shattering sound caught both of their attention just in time to see the reaper trap broken. Harry felt light hands on his back, saw Alistair's enraged face, and was whisked away.

Harry landed next to Dean and the two reapers.

"Where's your brother," Tessa asked.

"I don't know. We'll go find him, you get out of here."

The two left but not without a scrutinizing gaze from the older one sent at Harry.

Harry followed Dean as they wandered down a nearby alley looking for Sam. The itchy feeling intensified and Harry swung around to see Alistair.

"You can't run. Dean. You or your friend," he said with a malicious grin. "Not from me. I'm inside that little noggin of yours."

Blue-white lightning flashed and Harry's knees grew weak. He turned and collapsed as Castiel appeared wearing a frown.

"What the hell?"

"Think again," the angel said almost vindictively. "What just happened? You and Sam just saved a seal. We captured Alistair. Dean, this was a victory."

Harry wanted to melt into a pile of goo and the reform into a spring-loaded octopus so he could attach himself to his younger brother. Castiel was actually a lot younger than he had first thought. Barely 2,000 years old. Maybe not even that yet.

He couldn't help but wonder if Gabriel had spoiled Castiel as he had Harry. If he had, then why did his brother seem so cold? Like he was broken and hollow… It wasn't right.

"That script on the funeral home-we couldn't penetrate it."

"That was angel-proofing?"

"Why do you think I recruited you and Sam in the first place?" Castiel briefly glanced at him but there was no interest there. It hurt.

"You recruited us?"

"That wasn't your friend Bobby who called, Dean. It wasn't Bobby who told Sam about the seal."

So killing his, er… Death's reapers was a seal then?

"That was you?" Castiel looked down. "If you want our help, why the hell didn't you just ask?"

"Because whatever I ask, you seem to do the opposite."

"So, what now, huh? The people in this town, they just gonna start dying again?"

"Yes." It was Harry who answered this time and Castiel's gaze turned to him. Then they narrowed in suspicion. Harry didn't like that look directed at him from his younger brother not at all. "I already told you, Dean. Everything dies eventually."

"Then why am I an exception!?"

"You're different."

Tessa appeared asking for Dean's help before whisking him away. So, Harry was left alone with Castiel. He knew the angel was going to leave. And he really didn't want that. So Harry flared his magic just as Castiel spread his wings to take flight.

The angel's gaze which had been heavenward immediately snapped back onto Harry.

"Who are you?"

"I don't know…"

AN: So Castiel finally appeared! Bet it's not what you were hoping for. If anyone wants to give ideas on how Cas reacts to Harry it would be appreciated. Review please~!