325Story Name: A Break in the Pattern
Chapter Name: Almost There
Warnings: Massively AU, some OOC occasionally, blood gore and murder, slash, het, torture, cursing, monster madness, graphic imagery, general strangeness, and Super! but not God!Harry.
Summary: Dean Winchester is a Hunter. He and his brother, Sam, find monsters and kill them. His job is dangerous and there are times when he doesn't think he's going to make it. Dean and his brother have already died once, and they are the only family they have left. Until Dean comes across earth-shattering news: he has a twin brother. Enter Harry Potter, a wizard of extraordinary power and the younger twin of Dean Winchester. Harry hasn't had an easy life but he never expected this to happen. Evil Dark Lords he can deal with, finding out that his life has been a sham from the beginning? Not so much. The brothers and Harry have their work cut out for them. Especially since Lucifer is trying to start the Apocalypse.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Supernatural. If I did, well, things would be a whole heck of a lot stranger than they already are. And that's saying something. God I love Kripke's mind.
Authors Notes: I am so sorry that it has been so long since I last update. Honestly, I hadn't thought it had been that long. Damn, time flies when you have writer's block and college work. Guess real life stole a lot more time than I thought it did. I hope you aren't too angry, but I understand if you are. I will try not to have that much time between updates again, but I really can't make any promises. Real life always comes first. But please, enjoy this chapter. I pumped it all out in two days, I'm so proud of myself! I'm not the fastest typer. Also, the poll will be closing down sometime after I post this. Maybe a few days later or something, so make sure you vote! I will stop this now and let you get on with the chapter. Thanks, and review!
September 4, 2008
Sioux Falls, South Dakota
Dean was eating up the carpet in Bobby's den, pacing back in forth, head attached to a cell phone. He needed to get this right the first time, but was pretty sure he knew what he was doing. After all, he had practically raised Sam, he knew everything about his brother. No matter how stupid or insignificant it may seem, if it had any meaning to his little brother, he knew it. Including whatever fake name he might happen to be going by at that time. Which was why he was currently on the phone trying to get the person on the other line to bring up an account name that his brother used so that he could hunt down the bigfoot.
"Yeah, hi, I have a cell phone account with you guys and, uh, I lost my phone. I was wondering if you could turn the GPS on for me." He waited a beat, listening to the person on the other end of the phone. "Yeah. Name's Wedge Antilles. Social is 2474." Another pause, the person on the other end activating the software. Thank you, Jesus!
"Thank you." He says instead to the person and then hangs up the phone. He shoves it into his pocket on the way to the laptop sitting on the table. He sits down on the floor beside the table, forgoing the empty chair beside it.
Bobby blinks a moment, sitting in another old chair next to the computer, equal parts amused and confused. "How'd you know to use that name?" Because he didn't know many people that had more ID's than the Winchester brothers, and he wouldn't have the first clue as to which name to look for. Hell, he didn't even know about that name. Wedge Antilles? Poor kid needed help.
Dean huffs at the question and gives the older hunter a look. "You kiddin' me? What don't I know about that kid?" Because I practically raised the gigantor. I know everything about him and then some. The kid can't hide anything from me. Not even if he wanted too. He thinks as he starts typing into the computer to bring up the GPS coordinates.
Knowing that it will take a few moments before the software settles down with the location, Dean picks up one of the many empty liquor bottles scattered around the house. This one was right next to the leg of the table, laying on its side like it had fallen off. "Hey, Bobby? What's the deal with the liquor store? What, are your parents out of town or something?" he asks, teasing, because he doesn't ever remember the house being quite this messy. Bobby was pretty good about keeping empty bottles thrown away and the research room in a somewhat tidy order.
The look that Bobby gives him makes Dean wish he had kept his mouth shut. "Like I said," he starts off in a low tone. "Last few months ain't been all that easy." The unsaid words 'you died' echo in the room. They had been spoken before, and no one there really wants to hear them again. Even worse, the words 'we buried you' echo in the empty air as well.
"Right." Dean responds and puts the bottle down, dropping his eyes away from Bobby's face. He can't even meet Bobby's eyes after that. He feels like a shit now, wishes he hadn't said anything, or even though about saying anything. This must be what foot-in-mouth syndrome feels like…
The laptop gives a soft beep and, relieved at having something to do now, Dean turns towards it while Bobby gets up and comes over to look. The monitor displays a city map with a small arrow pointing to a star. The locator reads: 263 Adams Road, Pontiac, Illinois.
Dean blinks at the monitor and frowns. "Sam's in Pontiac, Illinois." That location is eerily familiar, he thinks but it doesn't take long for him to put two and two together and get one big stinkin' problem.
"Right near where you were planted." Bobby says staring at the location before casting his gaze over to the older Winchester sitting in his house. Dean's body is tense as he looks at the screen and Bobby almost wishes he knew what he was thinking.
"Right where I popped up. Hell of a coincidence, don't you think?" because he thinks it isn't. There is no way Sam could have been that close and not have done something about it, especially not when Dean wakes up six feet under as good as new. No, Sam had something to do with it, and he had to be there for it to work. Dean wants so hard to be angry about it, to rant and rave about how stupid his little brother was, but all he can feel is relief that he will see him soon
Of course, Bobby has to go and pop his happy bubble by saying, "Be a while before we can get there." And it will be. Even if they drive all night it will still be the next day before they can get there, at least. Breaking a few speed limits along the way is just a given.
"Well then, we best get moving." Dean says as he lowers the lid on the computer and stands up from his spot on the ground. He pats the pocket of his jacket for his keys before realizing that he doesn't have the Impala with him. He turns to Bobby, chagrined, and manages to get out, "Oh, let's take your truck."
"What about the car you came here in?" Bobby asks but goes ahead and starts looking around for his keys.
The embarrassed feeling rackets up a notch and Dean's face can almost be seen turning red, he swears. "Only if you want to walk there." He grumbles, because he is certain the that monstrosity would stop dead halfway there, if, by some god-given miracle, it even started again in the first place.
"Right." Bobby grunts and starts searching harder, trusting Dean's judgment. If Dean thinks a car won't run, then there is no sense in even trying "Let me get the keys."
September 5, 2008
Sioux Falls, South Dakota
Singer Auto Salvage Yard. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting but this, this was not it. Maybe he thought he would see a garage with a couple of wrecked up cars to be used for parts, not much for a small town but really… this was not what he had first imagined when Missouri told him about it.
Cars were piled everywhere. Towers so high it was almost unfathomable to believe they would keep standing for long, surely they would topple over and crush everything underneath them. He gives a huff at the mess, the parts strewn every which way across the yard, and calmly slips off his bike after putting the kickstand down. Green eyes shot over to the bike, compared it to everything else, and almost cringed, feeling the wreck and rust almost reach out to grasp his pride and turn it into a husk of what it once was.
If Missouri hadn't told him to come here, God only knows he would never have set foot here otherwise.
He still felt like hopping back on and roaring out of there as fast as the Suzuki GSX-R1000 could go. And he knew from experience that it could hit pretty high speeds, faster than normal because of the magical components and tinkering he had put in on it. But really, that was beside the point. But the Firebolt had nothing on this baby.
Bracing himself he took several steps away from the gleaming black and silver bike and stopped on the front porch. Harrison knocked loudly on the door after looking around for a moment and not seeing a doorbell. A minute later and no sound of footsteps had him knocking once more.
"They are not here, Harry Potter."
The blast of red light shot from the palm of his hand and rushed towards the figure that had not been behind him a moment ago. The strange man raised his own hand and casually brushed the low-powered stupefy away before it made contact. Harrison glares at the figure for a moment, angry at him for sneaking up on him and angry at himself for being snuck up upon. He was usually more aware of his surroundings. Things didn't sneak up on him. Not normal things anyway, which led to the question, who was this man?
Or, rather more to the point, what was he?
He looked familiar, like Harrison had seen him years before, but that couldn't have been possible. Nobody knew where he was. And he checked himself for trackers every chance he got. He was clean of any magical or mundane way to track someone. But that didn't explain the way he felt like he knew the man.
"I apologize for startling you, Harry Potter. That was not my intention." The dark man says and steps forward, hands going behind his back, presumably locking together behind the long coat. And that's another thing Harrison notices about the man. His attire is wrong for being in a junk yard in South Dakota. One does not wear a dark suit with a dark long coat –trench coat? Harrison thinks they are called- over that. But the man looks so familiar…
"Who are you?" he can't help but ask because it is driving him nuts. He knows this person, whoever he is. And they didn't always get along. The beast inside of him is digging vicious claws into his skull growling danger, enemy, fire.
"I am Bahram. I am an angel of the Lord." The dark man says, eyes gleaming with Power. And stretches wide his wings. Harrison sees them and feels a shudder work its way down his spine. Angels! A part of him screams in delight, he always knew they were out there. After all, if demons exist, then so too must angels.
Another part of him, the beast inside, gets angry. If angels exist then why did they never do anything? What was the point of being a figure of light if they just stood back and let the dark take over, and let everyone depend on a child to save the day? But that is an old ache, one that had long since been, if not forgotten, then at least pushed aside and ignored. An old pain, that could not be brought back up for fear it would hurt even worse the second time around.
So he ignores both voices and instead goes for the only other option open to him. Arms crossing he levels a blank look at the Angel. "So, Bobby isn't here. Where did he go then?" he really wants to ask something else though, like do angels have to take over a human form like demons, and, if so, who is he wearing? And damned if that doesn't sound like he is asking some famous tramp on a red carpet what dress they are wearing. Now he needs to rip his brain open and inspect it to see if Hermione did anything to him the last time he was there because he usually doesn't have random thoughts like that. Random thoughts, yes, all the time, but about that? No, not at all.
And not only that, why is the angel there? Why now, of all times? Why here, of all places? If an angel was going to come to him he would have preferred it have been many years ago, when he still had faith and when he had a whole world depending on him. When there were still people alive that he cared about saving.
Bahram tilts his head as though he asked something that he did not understand. "To Samual Winchester." Is what he says though.
Harrison almost feels his ears perk up at those words. His brother, the one still alive. "Do you know where he is?" he asks, fighting to keep the hope out of his voice and failing a little bit. He wants to find his brother, needs to find his brother and keep him safe. Hide him away from all the dark things that want to kill him. Make sure that he survives and lives another day. And man, I haven't met the guy and my protective instincts are already howling at me.
The Angel nods his head. "Illinois. A place that is the name of a car." Is what he says and Harrison can feel his hope leech away just a bit.
A state, he can work with that, but 'a place that is the name of a car'? There has to be a hundred of them, at least, and how is that supposed to help? "Can you be a little bit more specific?" he asks, voice a low growl in the back of his throat.
The Angel narrows his eyes but responds. "It is on the computer inside." His voice is short, like he did not want to answer. "They did not leave long ago, it should still be on." And Harrison wants to know why, but he has to leave. Has to find Sam and he doesn't have the time to waste on a surly angel.
So instead he nods his head and turns back to the house. With a silent alohomora he reaches out and unlocks the door. Walking in he is unsurprised to see that the clutter outside is mimicked on the inside. Books lay everywhere once he walks into the living room and it looks like the place hasn't seen a duster in over a decade. Nose wrinkling in disgust he casts his eyes around before stopping on a desktop that looks like it hasn't been used in a while.
Eyes narrowed, he steps forward, intent on at least checking it out before writing it off as a bad job, but the voice of Bahram interferes.
"The laptop." He says, causing Harrison to turn around. The angel is standing beside a table where a laptop lays, lid not-quite closed.
Harrison gives a quiet grunt of acknowledgment before stalking over to it and lifting the lid the rest of the way. A push of a button and the computer boots up already logged in and left on the last thing the user looked at. A map of Illinois with GPS coordinates pointing to a town called Pontiac, location 263 Adams Road, along with a name that says Wedge Antilles.
"Who is that?" Harrison mutters under his breath for a moment before he realizes it has to be a fake name. Then he almost wants to smack himself in the face because he never would have found Sam if he went looking for him under his real name. Stupid, stupid mistake, you are not cut out for this kind of thing, his mind snaps at him. But maybe it is a good thing the Angel told him to look at the computer instead of just telling him the name of the place. And doesn't that thought hurt, that he needs to thank an angel, and how far had he fallen when the thought of thanking an angel hurt?
So he looks up, green eyes meeting dark, and says, "Thank you."
Bahram nods in response. "It is my pleasure, Harry Potter."
The minor twitch in his eye is starting to become an annoyance when he hears that name. "Please, call me Harrison. I don't go by Harry anymore." He says darkly. He won't go by that name anymore, not since they called him that. And, after everything that has happened to him, he doesn't really feel like a 'Harry' anymore, anyway. Just like Hermione said. She was always right.
"Ah." The Angel says with a blink. "Very well then. I will leave you to your search."
"Wait." Harrison says before the angel can disappear. "I need to know, is that your true form or a human body?" And why, either way, are you here, talking to me, when so many people needed you years ago?
The dark head shakes. "My true form would burn your eyes out of your head. This is a host body born for me. You knew him, I believe. His name is Blaise Zabini."
Harrison almost feels the breath sucker-punched from his body while the animal inside his head starts growling about fire once more. And it makes since now because Blaise was one of the three Slytherin's in the Come-and-Go Room back during the war, when they were searching for the Horcrux and found themselves running from feindfyre. That is why he looks so familiar. It had been years, and Blaise had grown up since last Harrison saw him, but he can see it now.
He has so many questions he wants to ask but not enough time to ask them. He has to get to Sam before the First Demon does. But he has one more question before he can leave. The only one he can think of, the only one that is important. "So, why are you here?" Now, and not when I needed you most…
Bahram blinks. "I am your angel. Where else would I be?" he says before disappearing in a flutter of wings. Not even giving Harrison time to answer that question, let alone comprehend the answer he was given.
His angel. His angel. That explains so much but at the same time, at the same time… It leaves even more questions. And the anger sets in almost as soon as the shock does. His angel, if he had an angel this whole time, and doesn't that just beat all. He had read a bit about angels, another book that Hermione shoved his way, and the only angels that are attached to a person are Guardian Angels. And if Bahram was a guardian then where was he? Where was he when Harrison's world was torn apart? He won't be getting an answer anytime soon. Not unless the air has a habit of answering questions.
So he does the only thing he can and shoves the problem and the anger to the back of his mind, where the animal can hold it and keep it burning. He can only worry about one thing at a time and right now he needs to get to Sam. He need to protect his brother, needs to find out about Lilith.
Only then can he see if it is possible to seriously injure an angel. He would attempt to kill it if it wouldn't damn him or something like that.
He closes the lid of the computer and heads outside. A short glance about reveals that the angel didn't just transport himself outside to wait and is indeed gone. Harrison gives a soft huff but gets on his bike and roars away.
Moments later he is on a highway, Notice Me Not charm going full blast as he breaks as many speed limits as possible and throws in a few traffic violations as well. If I keep this up I will be there by nightfall, he thinks as he pushes the bike to two hundred miles an hour. Let's just hope I don't run into anything between now and then. I would hate to have to obliviate a police officer if the charm wears off.
September 5, 2008
Pontiac, Illinois
It was a small motel, not really some place Harrison would stop at for the night, but, then again, he was just a little bit spoilt nowadays. It didn't take much effort for the desk clerk to give him the number of the room. A little confundo can go a long way. He usually doesn't like using magic when he can get things done some other way, but being this close to his brother, he couldn't wait. So he used a bit of magic to make things move along faster. He would feel bad about using it on some poor unsuspecting muggle later.
Maybe.
But the motel isn't that bad; at least it is clean and kept in a relatively maintained state. The dark carpeting in the hallways might need to be deep-cleaned, though, he notices as he walks towards his destination. Or he might be the only one strange enough to notice. Soon he finds himself in front of a wooden door with a heart and the number 207 located on the front.
He is pleased to see that there is not a peephole in the door, so Sam will actually have to answer to see who it is. He likes that way better than to have a chance where he will be ignored just because the person on the other side of the door doesn't feel like talking to him because of who he is. That always ticked him off. He could never get over it.
Although, he is a bit of a hypocrite. He has a peephole and he'll be damned if he is going to answer the door if there was a reporter or someone like that on the other side. Not that it happened after he got his new place and no one knew where he lived. But before that he couldn't get three feet out of his house without a group of reporters popping up and shoving their Quik Quotes Quills in his face. God, he hates reporter. Skeeter ruined him.
Maybe he is getting a bit off topic now that he is staring at the door with his brother on the other side. All his life he had dreamed he had some other family. And now he has that chance.
Raising his fist to the door he knocks a few times and steps away. A short second later he hears footsteps coming towards him and hears the locks click unlocked. Another heartbeat passes before the door pulls open to reveal a rather fit and really tall young man, taller than him, Harrison is reluctant to note, by at least four inches, with brown shaggy hair and hazel eyes.
Hazel eyes that are currently widening to the size of dinner plates and full of both hope and grief. Harrison feels his heart twist a bit, because Dean's death had not been easy on this man. The dark circles under his eyes are testament to that. But the word that comes out of his brother's mouth is enough to make him want to rip the offending organ out of his body and smash it until he can't feel anything ever again. Because nothing is worth the heartache he is going to cause Sam, even if, hopefully, it won't be so bad later on. Once they get to know each other.
"Dean?" the hope, the anger, the relief, the grief, so many emotions in one word. As Ron once said, nobody can feel that much at one time without exploding, and this man looks like he might. Or at least fall to the ground in a faint.
I did not see this one coming.
Chapter length: 3859 words
Another Note: Just a reminder, the poll will be closing down some time after this chapter, so go and vote if you haven't yet or drop a line in a review. Do note, the final decision is mine to make. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter, again, so sorry for the wait. Hopefully it won't happen again. I think the writer's block is over for now. So please, review, I love hearing from everybody!