hells_half_acre (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hells_half_acre) wrote2009-07-17 01:50 am
hells_half_acre) wrote2009-07-17 01:50 am
Entry tags:
Fic: Damned Demented Demons 21/32 (SPN/HP)
Title: Damned Demented Demons 21/32
Author: ME!
Fandoms: Supernatural/Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13 (for swearing)
Warnings: Spoilers for all Harry Potter books, Spoilers up to 4x17 for Supernatural (but takes place around 4x11).
Disclaimer: Sam and Dean belong to Kripke, Harry Potter belongs to Rowling.
A/N: I thought that the Battle of Hogwarts took place in Spring 1997...so that's what I based my timeline on. Since then I've seen that most sources have it in 1998. Ah well. In this story it's 1997. The events of the story take place sometime in early 2009.
A/N to chapter 21: This chapter ended up being fairly serious. Sorry?
Summary: In which Harry finds out that things are worse than he thought.
Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20
"They know about what?" Harry blurted out, then regretted when it seemed to cause Sam and Dean to go into silent-mode. Harry vanished the memories in the pensieve, while he observed the silent exchange. Harry really was impressed with the way the two seemed to have whole conversations with nothing but eyebrow movements and intense looks...though there was still the occasional word.
"How much?" Sam asked.
"Enough," Dean answered. Sam made a frustrated motion with his hand, and Dean continued reluctantly, "like Anna, only without the radio."
"So...then...us?" Sam asked.
"Yeah," Dean nodded with a grimace.
Harry watched Sam sigh and sit down at the table, reaching cautiously pastthe pensieve in a request to see the papers Dean had been studying. Dean handed them over without a word.
"Someone want to tell me what's going on?" Harry said, figuring he had given them more than enough time to pretend he wasn't in the room. Of course, this just launched another silent brother-to-brother conversation or maybe it was an argument, Harry couldn't tell. If it was an argument, he wasn't sure who was on his side. He really wished he had had more time to look over the file before he handed it to the Winchesters, but he had assumed the only interesting piece of information was the page on the prophecy, which still lay folded and hidden in his shoulder bag.
"How much do you know about Revelations?" Dean finally asked him reluctantly.
"Um, it's the part in the Bible where the world ends? The four horsemen and all that?" Harry answered dread pooling in his stomach as he pictured the folded piece of paper hidden in his bag.
"Yeah, that's the one. Ok, how do I explain this..." Dean sighed and fell silent in thought.
"There are 66 seals," Sam spoke up and Dean scowled at him. "Lilith is breaking them."
Harry nodded, recognizing the name of the demon that the Winchesters were hunting, the one that had held Dean's contract. He was secretly excited to maybe finally learn what exactly the Winchesters were involved with, after having spent nearly an entire week with them - whoever said Hunters were secretive had not been joking. He wasn't quite sure exactly what kind of seals Sam was talking about though.
"The seals are like locks on a door," Dean added in, as though reading his mind.
"What's behind the door?" Harry asked.
"Lucifer," Dean stated. Harry suddenly found himself sitting on the edge of the bed that he had previously been standing next to, his thoughts going mile a minute. It's not like he didn't realize what the two lines of the prophecy probably meant. It's just that it had all been speculation on his part then, and now it was real, and not only that, it was already happening.
"So..." Harry started, trying to figure out how to form the correct English sentence. "What you are telling me is that this is the apocalypse?"
"No, no!" Sam said, "Not yet. I mean, we can still stop it from happening. All we have to do is kill Lilith."
"May I please see the file?" Harry asked, but it really wasn't a question; and judging by the speed in which the file appeared in his hand, Sam knew full well that it hadn't been a question.
Harry read over the papers in his hand, wondering if Draco had read them - if he had, he must not have looked closely or why wouldn't he have shown this to Harry first. Though, maybe he just hadn't understood them - it was fairly convaluted. The Rising of the Witnesses, and a date...the mention of a counter-spell emanating from Sioux Falls, South Dakota. The words Singer Auto Salvage.
Harry felt Dean sit down beside him on the bed, close but not touching. Harry didn't stop reading, but a cautious finger worked its way into his field of vision, pointing at the word 'Singer'.
"That's Bobby," Dean's voice said softly. Harry nodded, wondering who the hell Bobby was. Then he remembered the brief conversation in a diner that felt like weeks ago - 'We need a British version of Bobby....a demonlogy expert...'
"You were there?" Harry asked.
"Yeah..." Dean said. "It's when Cas told me about the seals."
Harry nodded and read further. Samhain and Halloween, a place name, some information gathered afterward about deaths and disappearances, then the confirmation that the Winchesters had been there too - that memories had been extracted from a bunch of Muggle teenagers that clearly showed Dean rescuing them from a gated crypt, where their white-eyed teacher had locked them in with the hungry dead.
"We, uh, kind of messed that one up," Dean said softly, pointing at the information, and left it at that.
There were more, other seals that had been broken without the Winchesters around - some off continent. Not anywhere close to 66, but a disturbing number nonetheless.
"And you didn't think it important enough, when I asked..." Harry began, and stopped, then tried again, "You didn't think that maybe you should have mentioned the apocalypse when we spent nearly three days trying to tie Dementors to demons? When I asked what you were up to? I mean, fuck. The apocalypse? I think that's sort of important!"
"Do you think the Dementors are here because of that?" Sam asked, but Dean cut him off.
"It's not the apocalypse. It's just the signs," Dean said. Harry leveled him with a disbelieving look.
"I need to call my wife," Harry said.
"I don't think that's a good idea," Sam said.
"What?!" Harry asked in disbelief and a growing anger. "Not a good idea? You are telling me we are two dozen or so locks away from Lucifer walking the earth, there are demons after me for some unknown reason, and I can't even call my WIFE to check on my CHILDREN!"
"Dude," Dean said placatingly, "You can call your wife. Of course you can call you wife." Harry watched Dean glare at Sam while Harry took a deep breath.
"You're bloody well right, I can," Harry muttered, standing to retrieve his communication mirror.
"Just don't tell her about the apocalypse, ok?" Dean said, "Just...there's no reason to panic."
"Right," Harry said. "I don't think...I don't think I want to tell her anyway. It's just...how are we going to fix this?"
"We aren't going to fix it," Dean said. "Me and Sam are going to fix it. This doesn't have anything to do with you."
"It has something to do with him, Dean," Sam interjected, "which was why I wanted to interrogate those demons. We need to know why they want him."
"Why does it matter?" Dean asked. "All that matters is that they don't get him!"
"It matters," Harry answered before Sam could respond, "because otherwise we don't know how long you have to bloody protect me from them! A day? A week? Until the bloody Rapture!?! My whole LIFE?! Well, maybe that won't be so bad, maybe it'll be much shorter than I thought! All the more reason to call my wife!"
"Exactly," Sam said, "we don't have time for this. I'm going to find Ruby and ask her if she knows what's going on." Sam was already shrugging on his coat by the time he completed his sentence. "I won't be long."
"Sam, we can figure this out without your goddamn demon girlfriend!" Dean bit out roughly.
"You're dating a demon?" Harry asked in disbelief, suddenly realizing that he had assumed this Ruby person that Sam kept wanting to consult was another Hunter, but if she were a demon...well, Dean's disapproval of her made all the more sense. And sickeningly, so did the first line of the prophecy.
"I'm not dating her, I'm using her," Sam said roughly. "I know what I'm doing."
"Do you?" Harry asked, because he couldn't help but think of the message he had tried to convey to Sam in the pensieve - it was all about choices. But then, with angels pulling Dean from hell, and demons possibly pulling Sam into it...maybe Harry was too late on all accounts, maybe he was just trying in vain to fight against a prophecy that was already unfolding, unstoppable the way only prophecies were.
"I won't be long," Sam said, and walked out the door, ignoring Harry's question and Dean's stern "Sam!" that followed him out.
Harry turned to Dean, not knowing what to say.
"Call your wife, then meet me by the car," Dean ordered, grabbing his coat and keys and storming out the door.
"Yes, sir," Harry said to the empty room.
*
By the time Harry came out of the motel room, Dean wasn't quite sure if he had built himself into such a rage that he felt numb, or if he had calmed down and felt numb - either way, he could deal with numb.
"Ginny says hello," Harry said, and gave him some strange half-smile. Dean smirked, remembering the look on Harry's face when he realized that Dean was chatting up his wife.
"Next time you talk to her, be sure to give her my best," Dean drawled slowly, then straightened from where he was leaning against the hood and made to get into the car. "Do you play pool?"
"Uh, no," Harry answered, and they both slipped into the Impala.
"Well, I'm running low on cash, so I'm going to go see what games I can find. You can watch." Dean informed Harry. He watched Harry nod in acceptance, then mulled over what to say next, knowing that something had to be said.
"Ruby...she's helped Sam before, when I was...well, she might know what they want with you," Dean said haltingly. "I'm sorry I didn't think of the time thing before. It's just..."
"It's just that you've always had your family with you when hunting," Harry finished for him. "You forgot that I might want to get back to mine."
Dean winced, but Harry wasn't angry, just understanding...and more importantly, he was right.
"Yeah well..." Dean started, focusing on the road, "When we were young, Dad used to go out alone and leave Sam and I behind. Then, when Sam got a little older sometimes just Dad and I would go, it's just, it's been awhile since those days."
Dean saw Harry nod out of the corner of his eye, and was thankful the wizard seemed to be accepting of the situation, or maybe just resigned to it.
"Everything alright at home?" Dean asked.
"My kids miss me," Harry said. "They're too young to worry though, which is nice, considering I couldn't answer my wife when she asked when I'd be back."
Dean knew that was Harry's way of telling him that he was still a little pissed off.
"Thankfully, Teddy's at school," Harry continued. "He always worries the most, but school should distract him."
"Ok man, I get it," Dean said, hunching his shoulders a little, feeling genuinely horrible. "You been taking lessons from Sam or something?"
"Did I mention that both Teddy's parents were killed in the war?" Harry continued, as they pulled up to a red light, "I'm really the closest thing he has to a father. I couldn't imagine what it'd be like for him if I died..."
Oh god, Dean thought, how much of this guilt-trip was he expected to take.
"...it'd probably destroy the kid. He'd keep his hair black and face pale...write depressing poetry..."
And that's when Dean clued in, whipping his head to glare at Harry in the passenger seat. Sure enough, Harry had what could only be described as a shit-eating grin on his face.
"You fucking bastard!" Dean exclaimed. Harry laughed.
"You should have seen your face!" Harry said.
The car behind them honked and Dean was forced to bring his attention back to the road. He muttered a curse under his breath when Harry just laughed more. Dean found himself fighting to keep a small smile off his face, not wanting to give Harry the satisfaction. They pulled up to the bar a moment later.
"Ok man, just follow my lead," Dean told Harry. Harry nodded.
The place was the usual - dark, health-code-violating amount of dinge, slightly rougher looking crowd...definitely not a wine bar. There were darts and pool, and Dean could make money at either, but pool was always the safer bet...and there was Harry to consider.
"Two shots of whiskey," Dean ordered at the bar. He handed over the money and knocked back the two shots as soon as they appeared. He turned to see Harry giving him the raised-eyebrow look.
"What?" Dean said innocently, "buy your own damn drink." But despite his words, he turned to the back to the bartender and ordered two beers and handed one to Harry.
"I can pay for them if you want," Harry told him.
"Nah, gotta spend money to make money," Dean said. He spotted a free pool table in the back of the room. "Come on, I'ma teach you how to play."
Dean racked up and let Harry break. Giving him pointers here and there, but mostly just letting him figure it out. He purposefully missed many of his own shots to lengthen the game. Harry was doing pretty well for his first time, and Dean made sure to tell him so, heaping on more praise than may actually have been deserved. When Harry missed, Dean would always assure him that it had been a hard shot, even the times it hadn't been. When he caught Harry blushing a bit yet looking genuinely confused as to why Dean was being so complementary, Dean gave him a wink. Harry's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't say anything.
It all paid off when the guys at the table beside them finally fell for the bait. Casually remarking that if Dean thought Harry was so good, maybe they should put a little money on a game. Dean made sure to order another beer for himself and let his speech drawl a little more than usual, not slur though, not yet.
He let them play just Harry first. It looked like Harry was trying his hardest. Dean honestly couldn't tell if he actually was trying, or if he had clued into the real game, but whichever it was, it was exactly what Dean had hoped for. Harry lost somewhat spectacularly, and Dean made a show of being goodnatured. Saying that Harry had done a pretty good job for his first time out, and not to worry about the money...that Harry could buy Dean another beer to make up for it.
"Man, it's too bad that was the last of my cash," Dean said in disappointment. "I bet I could have made that money back if I played you."
The guys laughed, and once again Dean couldn't tell if Harry was just being himself, or if he had actually picked up the hint, but the next words out of his mouth were the ones Dean had been hoping for.
"I could spot you the money," Harry said. "I mean, it's the least I could do..."
"Ah man, you don't have to do that," Dean said.
"No no, I don't mind," Harry said. "If these fellows are willing to give you a chance to win it back..."
The guys all made an obvious show of pretending to consider it, even though Dean knew they were chomping at the bit to make more money off of him and Harry.
"Only..." Harry said, and Dean's attention whipped back to him, afraid that maybe he didn't know the real game being played afterall, "Only, I'm not really good with exchange rates...I don't know...I mean...is four-hundred too small to bet?"
*
"Dude! That was AWESOME!" Dean said as soon as the poor bastards had left the bar without a penny to their name.
"I figured it was the only time in my life that I could play the part of the naive foreigner," Harry said with a smile.
"Come on," Dean said, "let me buy you a shot."
"No, thanks," Harry said.
"Suit yourself," Dean said and ordered himself three more shots, knocking them back quickly. He made a point not to look at Harry after he placed the last empty glass back on the bar. "Let's go before those dudes decide to get their money back by force."
There was a moment's pause, and then Harry said softly, "maybe I should drive."
Dean gave him a narrowed look, because he knew what Harry was suggesting. And he also knew that wizards didn't drive, Harry had told him as much.
"You don't even know how to drive," Dean said as they walked out into the damp night air. "Wizards don't drive."
"Yeah, well, I'm not most wizards," Harry said. "Come on mate, I've been dying to drive your car since I saw it. It's only a couple of blocks and the streets are practically empty..."
God, Harry could whine just like Sammy too, Dean thought.
"Fine," Dean said, "but don't tell Sam, and I'm only letting you because you did that thing with the magic and I owe you one." That had sounded much better in Dean's head...maybe Harry should drive.
Harry happily took the keys and slid into the drivers seat, carefully pulling out of the parking lot and onto the road. They traveled for several minutes in silence.
"You drive like an old lady," Dean said. "Guess I had nothing to worry about."
"Oh shut it," Harry said. "I said that I could drive, I didn't say that I drove often."
"You bastard! I take it back, I'm driving!" Dean declared. Harry laughed.
"Too late!" Harry said as he pulled into the motel parking lot, giving Dean an evil grin.
*
Harry was reading at the table when Sam finally walked in about two hours after Dean and Harry had gotten back from the bar. The lights were all off except for the small desk lamp, and Harry watched as Sam paused in the doorway and then shut the door softly behind him. Harry gave him a nod in greeting.
"Did you walk or drive?" Sam asked in a whisper.
"Drove," Harry answered, and watched the small line appear between Sam's eyebrows, before he added. "He let me drive, but I'm not supposed to tell you."
Sam looked relieved at that, and that was enough confirmation for Harry.
"He does it often then?" Harry whispered.
"It's the dreams," Sam answered, and Harry just nodded in response. He figured there was no point in discussing it. All war veterans knew the symptoms. He glanced over at Dean, who was passed out on the bed and snoring softly.
"Did you find out anything?" Harry asked, changing topics.
"Yeah," Sam said in a breath, "we'll discuss it in the morning, though. I don't want to wake him."
"Alright," Harry agreed, carefully placing the book down. "I'm going to bed then."
"Thanks," Sam said after a moments pause, but Harry didn't respond, because he honestly wasn't sure what Sam was thanking him for.
*
The next morning broke early, just before sunrise, when Sam was startled awake by Dean's hitching breath.
"Dean!" Sam said. "Wake up!"
Thankfully Dean did wake up, but so did Harry. Sam watched Harry fumble for his glasses beside his makeshift bed, while Dean calmed down.
"Ruby know anything?" Dean asked.
"Yeah," Sam answered, voice rough from sleep, knowing that sooner or later he would have to break this news - It might as well be at some ungodly hour of the morning with all of them working on far less than a full night's sleep.
"Harry's a seal."
Chapter 22
Masterpost
Author: ME!
Fandoms: Supernatural/Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13 (for swearing)
Warnings: Spoilers for all Harry Potter books, Spoilers up to 4x17 for Supernatural (but takes place around 4x11).
Disclaimer: Sam and Dean belong to Kripke, Harry Potter belongs to Rowling.
A/N: I thought that the Battle of Hogwarts took place in Spring 1997...so that's what I based my timeline on. Since then I've seen that most sources have it in 1998. Ah well. In this story it's 1997. The events of the story take place sometime in early 2009.
A/N to chapter 21: This chapter ended up being fairly serious. Sorry?
Summary: In which Harry finds out that things are worse than he thought.
Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20
"They know about what?" Harry blurted out, then regretted when it seemed to cause Sam and Dean to go into silent-mode. Harry vanished the memories in the pensieve, while he observed the silent exchange. Harry really was impressed with the way the two seemed to have whole conversations with nothing but eyebrow movements and intense looks...though there was still the occasional word.
"How much?" Sam asked.
"Enough," Dean answered. Sam made a frustrated motion with his hand, and Dean continued reluctantly, "like Anna, only without the radio."
"So...then...us?" Sam asked.
"Yeah," Dean nodded with a grimace.
Harry watched Sam sigh and sit down at the table, reaching cautiously pastthe pensieve in a request to see the papers Dean had been studying. Dean handed them over without a word.
"Someone want to tell me what's going on?" Harry said, figuring he had given them more than enough time to pretend he wasn't in the room. Of course, this just launched another silent brother-to-brother conversation or maybe it was an argument, Harry couldn't tell. If it was an argument, he wasn't sure who was on his side. He really wished he had had more time to look over the file before he handed it to the Winchesters, but he had assumed the only interesting piece of information was the page on the prophecy, which still lay folded and hidden in his shoulder bag.
"How much do you know about Revelations?" Dean finally asked him reluctantly.
"Um, it's the part in the Bible where the world ends? The four horsemen and all that?" Harry answered dread pooling in his stomach as he pictured the folded piece of paper hidden in his bag.
"Yeah, that's the one. Ok, how do I explain this..." Dean sighed and fell silent in thought.
"There are 66 seals," Sam spoke up and Dean scowled at him. "Lilith is breaking them."
Harry nodded, recognizing the name of the demon that the Winchesters were hunting, the one that had held Dean's contract. He was secretly excited to maybe finally learn what exactly the Winchesters were involved with, after having spent nearly an entire week with them - whoever said Hunters were secretive had not been joking. He wasn't quite sure exactly what kind of seals Sam was talking about though.
"The seals are like locks on a door," Dean added in, as though reading his mind.
"What's behind the door?" Harry asked.
"Lucifer," Dean stated. Harry suddenly found himself sitting on the edge of the bed that he had previously been standing next to, his thoughts going mile a minute. It's not like he didn't realize what the two lines of the prophecy probably meant. It's just that it had all been speculation on his part then, and now it was real, and not only that, it was already happening.
"So..." Harry started, trying to figure out how to form the correct English sentence. "What you are telling me is that this is the apocalypse?"
"No, no!" Sam said, "Not yet. I mean, we can still stop it from happening. All we have to do is kill Lilith."
"May I please see the file?" Harry asked, but it really wasn't a question; and judging by the speed in which the file appeared in his hand, Sam knew full well that it hadn't been a question.
Harry read over the papers in his hand, wondering if Draco had read them - if he had, he must not have looked closely or why wouldn't he have shown this to Harry first. Though, maybe he just hadn't understood them - it was fairly convaluted. The Rising of the Witnesses, and a date...the mention of a counter-spell emanating from Sioux Falls, South Dakota. The words Singer Auto Salvage.
Harry felt Dean sit down beside him on the bed, close but not touching. Harry didn't stop reading, but a cautious finger worked its way into his field of vision, pointing at the word 'Singer'.
"That's Bobby," Dean's voice said softly. Harry nodded, wondering who the hell Bobby was. Then he remembered the brief conversation in a diner that felt like weeks ago - 'We need a British version of Bobby....a demonlogy expert...'
"You were there?" Harry asked.
"Yeah..." Dean said. "It's when Cas told me about the seals."
Harry nodded and read further. Samhain and Halloween, a place name, some information gathered afterward about deaths and disappearances, then the confirmation that the Winchesters had been there too - that memories had been extracted from a bunch of Muggle teenagers that clearly showed Dean rescuing them from a gated crypt, where their white-eyed teacher had locked them in with the hungry dead.
"We, uh, kind of messed that one up," Dean said softly, pointing at the information, and left it at that.
There were more, other seals that had been broken without the Winchesters around - some off continent. Not anywhere close to 66, but a disturbing number nonetheless.
"And you didn't think it important enough, when I asked..." Harry began, and stopped, then tried again, "You didn't think that maybe you should have mentioned the apocalypse when we spent nearly three days trying to tie Dementors to demons? When I asked what you were up to? I mean, fuck. The apocalypse? I think that's sort of important!"
"Do you think the Dementors are here because of that?" Sam asked, but Dean cut him off.
"It's not the apocalypse. It's just the signs," Dean said. Harry leveled him with a disbelieving look.
"I need to call my wife," Harry said.
"I don't think that's a good idea," Sam said.
"What?!" Harry asked in disbelief and a growing anger. "Not a good idea? You are telling me we are two dozen or so locks away from Lucifer walking the earth, there are demons after me for some unknown reason, and I can't even call my WIFE to check on my CHILDREN!"
"Dude," Dean said placatingly, "You can call your wife. Of course you can call you wife." Harry watched Dean glare at Sam while Harry took a deep breath.
"You're bloody well right, I can," Harry muttered, standing to retrieve his communication mirror.
"Just don't tell her about the apocalypse, ok?" Dean said, "Just...there's no reason to panic."
"Right," Harry said. "I don't think...I don't think I want to tell her anyway. It's just...how are we going to fix this?"
"We aren't going to fix it," Dean said. "Me and Sam are going to fix it. This doesn't have anything to do with you."
"It has something to do with him, Dean," Sam interjected, "which was why I wanted to interrogate those demons. We need to know why they want him."
"Why does it matter?" Dean asked. "All that matters is that they don't get him!"
"It matters," Harry answered before Sam could respond, "because otherwise we don't know how long you have to bloody protect me from them! A day? A week? Until the bloody Rapture!?! My whole LIFE?! Well, maybe that won't be so bad, maybe it'll be much shorter than I thought! All the more reason to call my wife!"
"Exactly," Sam said, "we don't have time for this. I'm going to find Ruby and ask her if she knows what's going on." Sam was already shrugging on his coat by the time he completed his sentence. "I won't be long."
"Sam, we can figure this out without your goddamn demon girlfriend!" Dean bit out roughly.
"You're dating a demon?" Harry asked in disbelief, suddenly realizing that he had assumed this Ruby person that Sam kept wanting to consult was another Hunter, but if she were a demon...well, Dean's disapproval of her made all the more sense. And sickeningly, so did the first line of the prophecy.
"I'm not dating her, I'm using her," Sam said roughly. "I know what I'm doing."
"Do you?" Harry asked, because he couldn't help but think of the message he had tried to convey to Sam in the pensieve - it was all about choices. But then, with angels pulling Dean from hell, and demons possibly pulling Sam into it...maybe Harry was too late on all accounts, maybe he was just trying in vain to fight against a prophecy that was already unfolding, unstoppable the way only prophecies were.
"I won't be long," Sam said, and walked out the door, ignoring Harry's question and Dean's stern "Sam!" that followed him out.
Harry turned to Dean, not knowing what to say.
"Call your wife, then meet me by the car," Dean ordered, grabbing his coat and keys and storming out the door.
"Yes, sir," Harry said to the empty room.
*
By the time Harry came out of the motel room, Dean wasn't quite sure if he had built himself into such a rage that he felt numb, or if he had calmed down and felt numb - either way, he could deal with numb.
"Ginny says hello," Harry said, and gave him some strange half-smile. Dean smirked, remembering the look on Harry's face when he realized that Dean was chatting up his wife.
"Next time you talk to her, be sure to give her my best," Dean drawled slowly, then straightened from where he was leaning against the hood and made to get into the car. "Do you play pool?"
"Uh, no," Harry answered, and they both slipped into the Impala.
"Well, I'm running low on cash, so I'm going to go see what games I can find. You can watch." Dean informed Harry. He watched Harry nod in acceptance, then mulled over what to say next, knowing that something had to be said.
"Ruby...she's helped Sam before, when I was...well, she might know what they want with you," Dean said haltingly. "I'm sorry I didn't think of the time thing before. It's just..."
"It's just that you've always had your family with you when hunting," Harry finished for him. "You forgot that I might want to get back to mine."
Dean winced, but Harry wasn't angry, just understanding...and more importantly, he was right.
"Yeah well..." Dean started, focusing on the road, "When we were young, Dad used to go out alone and leave Sam and I behind. Then, when Sam got a little older sometimes just Dad and I would go, it's just, it's been awhile since those days."
Dean saw Harry nod out of the corner of his eye, and was thankful the wizard seemed to be accepting of the situation, or maybe just resigned to it.
"Everything alright at home?" Dean asked.
"My kids miss me," Harry said. "They're too young to worry though, which is nice, considering I couldn't answer my wife when she asked when I'd be back."
Dean knew that was Harry's way of telling him that he was still a little pissed off.
"Thankfully, Teddy's at school," Harry continued. "He always worries the most, but school should distract him."
"Ok man, I get it," Dean said, hunching his shoulders a little, feeling genuinely horrible. "You been taking lessons from Sam or something?"
"Did I mention that both Teddy's parents were killed in the war?" Harry continued, as they pulled up to a red light, "I'm really the closest thing he has to a father. I couldn't imagine what it'd be like for him if I died..."
Oh god, Dean thought, how much of this guilt-trip was he expected to take.
"...it'd probably destroy the kid. He'd keep his hair black and face pale...write depressing poetry..."
And that's when Dean clued in, whipping his head to glare at Harry in the passenger seat. Sure enough, Harry had what could only be described as a shit-eating grin on his face.
"You fucking bastard!" Dean exclaimed. Harry laughed.
"You should have seen your face!" Harry said.
The car behind them honked and Dean was forced to bring his attention back to the road. He muttered a curse under his breath when Harry just laughed more. Dean found himself fighting to keep a small smile off his face, not wanting to give Harry the satisfaction. They pulled up to the bar a moment later.
"Ok man, just follow my lead," Dean told Harry. Harry nodded.
The place was the usual - dark, health-code-violating amount of dinge, slightly rougher looking crowd...definitely not a wine bar. There were darts and pool, and Dean could make money at either, but pool was always the safer bet...and there was Harry to consider.
"Two shots of whiskey," Dean ordered at the bar. He handed over the money and knocked back the two shots as soon as they appeared. He turned to see Harry giving him the raised-eyebrow look.
"What?" Dean said innocently, "buy your own damn drink." But despite his words, he turned to the back to the bartender and ordered two beers and handed one to Harry.
"I can pay for them if you want," Harry told him.
"Nah, gotta spend money to make money," Dean said. He spotted a free pool table in the back of the room. "Come on, I'ma teach you how to play."
Dean racked up and let Harry break. Giving him pointers here and there, but mostly just letting him figure it out. He purposefully missed many of his own shots to lengthen the game. Harry was doing pretty well for his first time, and Dean made sure to tell him so, heaping on more praise than may actually have been deserved. When Harry missed, Dean would always assure him that it had been a hard shot, even the times it hadn't been. When he caught Harry blushing a bit yet looking genuinely confused as to why Dean was being so complementary, Dean gave him a wink. Harry's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't say anything.
It all paid off when the guys at the table beside them finally fell for the bait. Casually remarking that if Dean thought Harry was so good, maybe they should put a little money on a game. Dean made sure to order another beer for himself and let his speech drawl a little more than usual, not slur though, not yet.
He let them play just Harry first. It looked like Harry was trying his hardest. Dean honestly couldn't tell if he actually was trying, or if he had clued into the real game, but whichever it was, it was exactly what Dean had hoped for. Harry lost somewhat spectacularly, and Dean made a show of being goodnatured. Saying that Harry had done a pretty good job for his first time out, and not to worry about the money...that Harry could buy Dean another beer to make up for it.
"Man, it's too bad that was the last of my cash," Dean said in disappointment. "I bet I could have made that money back if I played you."
The guys laughed, and once again Dean couldn't tell if Harry was just being himself, or if he had actually picked up the hint, but the next words out of his mouth were the ones Dean had been hoping for.
"I could spot you the money," Harry said. "I mean, it's the least I could do..."
"Ah man, you don't have to do that," Dean said.
"No no, I don't mind," Harry said. "If these fellows are willing to give you a chance to win it back..."
The guys all made an obvious show of pretending to consider it, even though Dean knew they were chomping at the bit to make more money off of him and Harry.
"Only..." Harry said, and Dean's attention whipped back to him, afraid that maybe he didn't know the real game being played afterall, "Only, I'm not really good with exchange rates...I don't know...I mean...is four-hundred too small to bet?"
*
"Dude! That was AWESOME!" Dean said as soon as the poor bastards had left the bar without a penny to their name.
"I figured it was the only time in my life that I could play the part of the naive foreigner," Harry said with a smile.
"Come on," Dean said, "let me buy you a shot."
"No, thanks," Harry said.
"Suit yourself," Dean said and ordered himself three more shots, knocking them back quickly. He made a point not to look at Harry after he placed the last empty glass back on the bar. "Let's go before those dudes decide to get their money back by force."
There was a moment's pause, and then Harry said softly, "maybe I should drive."
Dean gave him a narrowed look, because he knew what Harry was suggesting. And he also knew that wizards didn't drive, Harry had told him as much.
"You don't even know how to drive," Dean said as they walked out into the damp night air. "Wizards don't drive."
"Yeah, well, I'm not most wizards," Harry said. "Come on mate, I've been dying to drive your car since I saw it. It's only a couple of blocks and the streets are practically empty..."
God, Harry could whine just like Sammy too, Dean thought.
"Fine," Dean said, "but don't tell Sam, and I'm only letting you because you did that thing with the magic and I owe you one." That had sounded much better in Dean's head...maybe Harry should drive.
Harry happily took the keys and slid into the drivers seat, carefully pulling out of the parking lot and onto the road. They traveled for several minutes in silence.
"You drive like an old lady," Dean said. "Guess I had nothing to worry about."
"Oh shut it," Harry said. "I said that I could drive, I didn't say that I drove often."
"You bastard! I take it back, I'm driving!" Dean declared. Harry laughed.
"Too late!" Harry said as he pulled into the motel parking lot, giving Dean an evil grin.
*
Harry was reading at the table when Sam finally walked in about two hours after Dean and Harry had gotten back from the bar. The lights were all off except for the small desk lamp, and Harry watched as Sam paused in the doorway and then shut the door softly behind him. Harry gave him a nod in greeting.
"Did you walk or drive?" Sam asked in a whisper.
"Drove," Harry answered, and watched the small line appear between Sam's eyebrows, before he added. "He let me drive, but I'm not supposed to tell you."
Sam looked relieved at that, and that was enough confirmation for Harry.
"He does it often then?" Harry whispered.
"It's the dreams," Sam answered, and Harry just nodded in response. He figured there was no point in discussing it. All war veterans knew the symptoms. He glanced over at Dean, who was passed out on the bed and snoring softly.
"Did you find out anything?" Harry asked, changing topics.
"Yeah," Sam said in a breath, "we'll discuss it in the morning, though. I don't want to wake him."
"Alright," Harry agreed, carefully placing the book down. "I'm going to bed then."
"Thanks," Sam said after a moments pause, but Harry didn't respond, because he honestly wasn't sure what Sam was thanking him for.
*
The next morning broke early, just before sunrise, when Sam was startled awake by Dean's hitching breath.
"Dean!" Sam said. "Wake up!"
Thankfully Dean did wake up, but so did Harry. Sam watched Harry fumble for his glasses beside his makeshift bed, while Dean calmed down.
"Ruby know anything?" Dean asked.
"Yeah," Sam answered, voice rough from sleep, knowing that sooner or later he would have to break this news - It might as well be at some ungodly hour of the morning with all of them working on far less than a full night's sleep.
"Harry's a seal."
Chapter 22
Masterpost
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Pool shark Harry and Dean make me laugh too, though. I'd love to have a game with them (though, not for money ;)
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