Author's note: Some friends and reviewers have pointed out that the last chapter was kind of overwhelming and I agreed but I quite like long chapters so i thought i would continue like that but, well, i had forgotten how heavy the last episodes of season 4 were. I can't skip any of them and they're all important and full of stuff so, i've decided to put them into three chapters instead of one. Sorry (not really) if it upsets anyone. Anyway, tell me what y'all think. :)

Warnings: torture scene, typical canon violence, language, oral sex (you'll see ;)) and maybe others...:p

Episodes: Episode 16, "On the Head of a Pin" and episode 17 (AU), "It's a Terrible Life".

Disclaimer: I do not own neither Harry Potter nor Supernatural.

You Know That I'm No Good.

Dean looked into the rearview mirror to Harry's prone form, it had been two days since they had saved the seal and the green-eyed hunter had been in and out of it for the majority of those 48 hours. To say Dean was worried was an understatement, they had wanted to bring him to the hospital with Pamela but Harry had managed to say 'no' between two painful gasps, hissing distinctly: 'magical exhaustion' before going back to his current state.

With Harry out for the count and Pamela still in a coma, Dean had wanted to stay for a little while longer but Sam had had none of it claiming that Ruby had another lead and they couldn't afford to slack off, Dean had very much wanted to punch his little brother (it was beginning to be a worryingly recurrent thought) but had restrained himself.

It had been a close thing.

But the thing was, Dean just didn't really give a rat's ass anymore; he didn't have the will nor the force to rant and rave at his gigantic brother, he was just so freaking stubborn, it was useless and Dean started to think that it was what giving up must felt like. Sammy didn't look up to him anymore, God forbid actually listening to his older brother. He wasn't even ruffle by Ruby's ever growing presence among them, he was just so damn tired, of fighting his brother, of his secrets, of him never being able to say the right things, of being afraid Sam would really fuck up one day and he wouldn't be able to stop him, of putting friends in hospitals or in an early grave, of Harry being in danger, of Harry almost dying (again) for Christ's sakes, of him being unable to protect the younger man, of having his palms sweating and his heart beating frantically every time he thought about the dark-haired male actually leaving them…

And all this for saving the world, he snorted, like they were doing an awesome job of it so far. From his point of view, the world was screwed the moment the angels chose them to save it.

"Like I said, I'm just getting tired." Dean sighed out at his frustrated brother, not even looking at him because he could all but picture him in his mind, hands clenching on the steering wheel, the muscles of his jaw twitching, eyes narrowed and tan features tightening… It was like he didn't even care about dragging Pamela into their mess for her to finish in the urgency service, Harry was an all other story though, he knew Sam worried about their little addition, the panic in his voice every time something happened to him was telling. In fact, Dean was pretty sure that other than killing Lilith, Harry was honestly the only thing his brother cared about.

And that was good in Dean's books, anything to glimpse at who Sammy used to be, but the intense obsessive glint Dean could discern in his hazel orbs every goddamn time they rested on the emerald-eyed man was unsettling to say the least and Dean wasn't sure he liked it.

"Then get angry." Sam snapped back at him in annoyance and Dean looked out the window and into the dark night thinking idly that his little brother didn't disappoint.

Harry had woken up sometime after they had passed the city line, scratching at his bleary eyes and hair in disarray and Dean couldn't help but think that he made a damn cute sight. Sam seemed to think so too, he thought catching his brother's little smile and his eyes constantly shifting to the backseat.

"Alright there squirt?" Dean asked softly.

"Hmm." Harry answered groggily.

"You recovered?" Sam asked and Dean was startled at his tone, the deep concern shining out of the question reminding him of how things used to be and he was once again freaking grateful for the English runt's presence just so that he could see that sort of expression smoothing out his brother's usual jadedness.

"Yeah." Harry croaked before coughing and Dean turned in his seat, passing him a bottle of water, "Yes, I think so." He added after drinking half the bottle and both of the brothers gazed at him skeptically, "I swear, I'm as good as I can be right now." He exclaimed exasperatedly catching sight of their expressive stares.

"Yeah, well, don't do that again." Dean ordered and he expected to be obeyed on that point, he couldn't live through that a second time, not in this lifetime even if he was pretty sure it was going to happen again, Harry had a hero complex that could rivaled with his and a stubborn streak as bad as Sammy's but Dean could still dream.

"I wasn't about to let her die if I could do something about it." Harry said fiercely and Dean let out a tired exhale, slumping in his seat.

"You could have died!" Sam shouted, his eyes wild and off the road.

"She would have died!" Harry ranted right back without missing a beat. "I'm not worth more than her." He muttered.

"Yes you are." They both said with an intense certainty that obviously took Harry aback taking in his startled expression and wide astonished eyes.

"We're not saying we're not happy she's alive, we're saying it wasn't worth losing you. Sometimes it's just people's time and you gotta let them go." Dean winced at his own words because if that wasn't hypocrite of him to say then he didn't know what was. After all, all three of them were like the poster boys for evading death.

Harry dropped his eyes onto his lap, apparently overwhelmed by what they were saying and the staring contest they were having, defeated by the famous Winchester temper. Good.

"Where are we going anyway?" Harry asked after some time had passed in thoughtful silence, blatantly changing the subject onto safer grounds.

"We gotta lead on Lilith." Sam said, determined eyes on the black asphalt and moonless night in front of him.

And that was that.


"Home, crappy home." Dean grumbled humorlessly as they entered the motel room.

Harry was behind him, chuckling softly and Sam's lips were twitching like he wanted to smile but, for some reason, forced himself not to. Until Harry felt his skin buzzing and his magic twirling inside of him in the usual way he felt when the angels' overwhelming presence was near.

He stopped dead at the threshold, both of his hands shooting out to grip both of the brother's arms who looked at him questioningly before grim understanding washed over them when he turned the lights on.

Uriel's perpetually arrogant eyes swept over them with contempt and both of the brothers moved as one remembering the last time the angel had fought with Harry, flashback of two anger-filled orbs staring at him gleefully and heavenly fury squeezing his neck made him clenched his fists, eyes narrowing and magic swirling around him.

From his point of view he could see Castiel hidden on the other side of the room and Harry calmed somewhat at the other's presence. Shoulders still as tensed as the brothers and eyes as wary because in their recent experiences, well, the angels being here couldn't mean anything good.

"Winchester." Uriel said smirking and staring at Dean, rolling the r of their name like he was disgusted to even say it, "Winchester." He added practically purring, tilting his head in Sam's direction before he sneered and his eyes flashed as they paused on Harry, "Potter." He spat and Harry hadn't thought it was possible for someone to sound more disgusted than Snape when uttering his name but apparently he had been wrong. Dean gripped his arm at the tone like he wanted to ground himself or he would jump on the righteous prick right then and there, Sam moved even more in front of him, his tall stature blocking the other's possessed orbs from reaching Harry.

"Oh come on." Dean exclaimed, he had probably wanted to come off as sarcastic but it sounded more exhausted to Harry's ears and he glanced at the older man, viridian eyes bright with worry.

"You are needed." Uriel stated.

Harry snorted and Uriel's grace-filled eyes snapped to him and he started to open his mouth, no doubt to say something that will make Harry want to push the Gryffindor's blade right through his heart.

Harry wasn't even sure he would regret it.

But Dean cut the imposing man off, "Needed." Dean repeated hollowly, letting out an incredulous humorless chuckle and Harry wondered what the hell had happened while he was out, "We just got back from needed." His voice hard as steel and even deeper than usual.

"You mind your tone with me boy." Uriel whispered threateningly, his seemingly calm demeanor even more frightening as Harry could see the fury growing from the waves of pure white steadily filling the space around them.

Dean didn't seem to feel it though or perhaps he did but had decided to ignore it in favor of recklessly approaching the angel with pounding steps, "No you mind your damn tone with us." He barked, eyes wide and locked on the black-skinned man, fists clenched in barely restrained rage.

Harry was about to intervene because he didn't want to test how far Dean could push them until they would snap and attack but Sam beat him to it, big arm stopping Dean's advancing body and strong hand resting on Dean's broad shoulder trying to uselessly chill his brother out.

It wasn't working.

"We just got back from the hospital where our friend Pamela is in a coma." Sam said, the accusation loud and clear.

Harry sidestepped the brothers, putting him in full view of the angels and trying to catch Castiel's baby blue eyes in vain. The other was in some sort of soldier's stance, not intervening, eyes blank and bright on the opposite wall, something was clearly going on and Harry didn't like it one bit. He had thought that Castiel was Uriel's superior but right now, it seemed awfully like the other way around and that, that wasn't a good omen.

"Pamela, you know sykick Pamela, you remember her." Dean said sarcastically, dead eyes and fake smile pulling at his face and turning his features into something ugly. Harry flinched, "Cas, you remember her. You, you burn her eyes out. Remember that? Good times." Dean exclaimed exuberantly staring at Castiel's eyes, which Harry could see were flashing in guilt, meaningfully before snapping them back onto the suited man, voice calmer, horrifyingly calm, "Yeah and then she almost died saving one of your precious seals. She would have too if it wasn't for Harry. He could be freaking dead by now cause he saved her." Dean snorted staring at them with dark green eyes, "And you call him a fucking abomination, he's more of an angel than you both could ever hope to be." He stated finally, breathing roughly through his nose.

Harry had his eyes growing wide at the sentence spilling out of the older hunter's mouth, that was what Dean thought of him? Because if it was… Then he was in for a surprised wake-up call, Harry was as far from an angel as anyone could be, he thought, eyes downcast and mouth in a thin line.

But if it was what Dean wanted him to be or thought he was than Harry would do his bloody best not to disappoint him.

Harry turned his eyes onto Sam who for his part was staring at his brother with stormy hazel-grey eyes like he had just figured something out, something big judging from the wideness of his orbs and the little o shape his lips had taken.

"-For five freaking minutes!" The shout startled Harry out of his raging thoughts and he realized Dean had been far from over and had just finished ranting, eyes flashing dangerously, brows furrowed and limbs trembling like he was two minutes away from shooting something.

"Look, could you just tell us why you're here for and be gone. Now isn't a good time." Harry intervened trying to placate the two volatile men before Uriel spontaneously decided to cast Dean back into the pit.

"Shut your mouth." Uriel growled, lips pulled back and two rows of sharp, blindingly white teeth showing, "You aren't the one we need." He spat.

Harry took a step back at the sheer force of the heavenly anger coming his way and battering on his magic.

"Uriel." Said a gravelly voice in warning. The man turned before snorting and fixing Castiel with an indecipherable look.

"Yeah Cas, keep your dog on a leash." Dean said darkly, one of his calloused hands coming to rest on Harry's shoulder and squeezing tightly in reassurance and comfort, Sam a warm presence at his back.

Uriel nonetheless calmed, shrugging his shoulders off the power rolling smoothly on them, raising glaring black eyes at Dean for his remark, "We raised you out of Hell for our purposes."

"Yeah what were those again?" Dean asked in a perfectly controlled voice, "What exactly do you want from me?" He added, hissing between painfully clenched teeth.

"Start with gratitude." He responded condescending.

Harry was but not to him and he pleaded in his mind for Castiel to turned around and look at him so that he could see the thankfulness shining out of his green orbs.

He didn't.

Dean grinned and it was more of a grimace.

"Dean, we know this is difficult to understand." Castiel said in his familiar grave voice, like his vocal chords had been filled with rocks and Harry felt relief wash over him. The angel leveled his sapphire eyes on him, nodding like he had read his thoughts, for all Harry knew he probably had, the lithe male smiled genuinely back at him.

Neither of them noticed two narrowed black orbs watching them keenly.

"And we don't care." Uriel interrupted pointedly staring the other angel down who returned to his blank state, a statue standing awkwardly and out of place in the middle of their motel room.

Harry felt his anxiety growing tenfold at the wrongness of the exchange. From the corner of his eyes he could see both of the brothers shifting their eyes from one male to the other, apparently coming to the same conclusion as him if the tightening of their faces were anything to go by.

"Now, seven angels have been murdered, all of them from our garrison. The last one was killed tonight." Uriel finally declared and all three of the hunters shifted to attention at the worrying news.

"Demons?" Dean asked exasperatedly.

The answer was obvious.

"How are they doing it?" Dean asked lips' twitching into the mockery of a smile like the thought of demons getting the upper hand on angels was more amusing than anything.

"We don't know." Uriel said sighing and it was probably the first time Harry had seen something close to a real emotion on the man's usually smooth face, something like regret.

"I'm sorry but what do you want us to do about it?" Sam asked, eyebrows rising at the edge of his airline, "I mean the demon with the juiced ice angels has to be out of our league right?" He added smirking like he was humoring them and Harry could hear a bit of smugness creeping in that was uncomfortably close to the tone he had used under the Siren's influence. Harry could see the taint growing according to his voice like it was somehow influencing him.

Harry really needed to act and soon because the thought was deeply disturbing.

"We can handle the demon, thank you very much." Uriel said.

"Once we found whoever it is." Castiel added unhelpfully.

Dean started to pace, "So you need our help, hunting a demon?" Dean asked smirking, just to be sure and Harry could see how the thought stroked the man's ego. He couldn't stop his lips from twitching upward.

Dean's suddenly sparkling green orbs caught his and his smirk widened significantly as he winked at him.

Harry's little grin turned into a full blown one.

Castiel finally moved, placing himself next to his fellow soldier but still a little bit behind and Harry felt his smile sliding off as fast as he had appeared at the submissive action, "Not quite. We have Alastair."

Cas announced and Harry felt some of the tension-accumulated melt away at the first good news the angels had ever said to them.

"That's great right?" Harry asked attentively because he realized quickly the angels weren't the best at delivering good news and he didn't trust them not to have another other shoe just waiting to be drop on them.

"Yeah, you should be able to name your trigger man." Dean added, nodding from his spot at the table.

"But," Not great then… Harry knew it, he thought bitterly, the anguish rose up again, "He won't talk. Alastair's will is very strong. We arrived at an impasse." Well, weren't they sugarcoating it, Harry saw where Cas was going with this a mile away and he felt his guts churning and turning in distress.

He took two steps, hands uselessly coming up in front of him like he could somehow stop them from even asking it, "No." He said and he was surprised by how low and cold his voice came out.

"Harry?" Dean asked in surprise.

"They want you to torture him Dean." He stated coldly, glaring at both of the angels and not at all quelled by the furious black eyes regarding him. Turning a pleading gaze on Castiel, foolishly thinking the likeable angel could do something with Uriel there. Things had changed, Cas wasn't the superior anymore but he tried anyway.

"What?" Dean asked, a loud intake of breath whooshing out of him.

"You happen to be the best qualified interrogator we've got." Uriel stated and Harry winced, eyes closing in despair.

"Dean, you are our best hope." Castiel said and Harry hated him a little bit right now.

Dean leveled his gaze on them, the green of his eyes had all but turned black at the suggestion, hands clenching the table so hard Harry heard it cracked, desperate orbs shifting to Harry looking for something that he hoped Dean would be able to find as the younger hunter tried to show with only his eyes that he would accept and support whatever Dean would choose to do.

Apparently Dean was glad with what he had found as he let a small smile gracing his tan features for one second, so fast Harry thought he had imagined it before turning and glaring at their surprised guests, "No. No way. You can't ask me to do that Cas. Not this." Dean articulated sharply.

Harry saw Uriel smirking, eyes glittering in sick pleasure as he prowled towards the tortured hunter, slow steps and rolling shoulders like a feline. The younger man saw this as if in slow motion, "Who said anything… About asking?"

Harry realized it before it happened and he launched himself, gripping Dean's jacket in his desperate grasp.

They were whisked away out of their room and into an abandoned warehouse before Harry had the time to say Merlin.

Despite the alarming situation he couldn't help but to be grateful for his quick (quidditch) reflexes, Dean didn't have to do this alone and maybe it would bring closure from all those years downstairs to Harry.

Yeah, maybe


"Fascinating." Dean said with what he had wanted to come out as snarky but was more of a breathy gasp as Harry and him watched Alastair strung and bound six ways from Sunday in a scary reminder of the racks down in the pit, "Come on Harry we're out of here. Show us the door." He said keeping his eyes fixed on the opposite wall, trying to walk, run in the other direction as fast as his feet could carry him.

He wasn't ready for this, wasn't ready to face it.

He probably never will be.

Dean had never claimed to be healthy psychologically wise, he thought with a hint of dark humor.

"Where are you going?" He heard Castiel's gravelly voice like in soundproof.

"We'll hitch back to Chayenne. Thank you very much." He exclaimed sending his best threatening glare Uriel's way because he could and he hated the smug son of a bitch.

Dean suddenly realized that he kept saying 'we' but he wasn't hearing the familiar quiet steps of Harry behind him and he stopped in his tracks. Turning back around to found the squirt still standing, muscles coiled, hands clenched and shoulders drawn up in front of the little window.

Damn it.

He went back on his steps and as soon as the immobile wizard was in arm's reach gripped his shoulder tenderly to get him out of his daze that Dean was sure was far from pleasant, "Harry." He said softly.

The smaller man turned and looked up at him and Dean was startled by the cold, somewhat distant gaze he was subjected to that had no place in the green gems, it reminded Dean too much of all those times Harry had healed him down-under after he had spat on his face.

"Harry, come on. Snap out of it, we're going." He said desperation and anguish coating his words that, fuck, that he hated showing while the winged assholes were in the room.

Harry shook his head to get rid of whatever memories he had been trapped into and nodded his head meekly; Dean smiled sadly, tucked him under his right shoulder and with pounding steps walked out.

Uriel's ugly smiling mug appeared with a flutter of wings right in front of their path.

He should have known it wasn't going to be that easy cause when was it ever?

Dean had resigned himself to the fact that he had no choice and he wouldn't leave this place if he didn't take up a knife and carve deep into Alastair's meat-suit so he had send Cas on an errand for all the tools he remembered having downstairs.

That had been slightly disturbing but what else is new?

His hands had been unsteady, his breathing ragged, his eyes glassy, his throat constricted, his tongue had been a useless knot in the back of his mouth and he would have probably collapsed in a heap on the dirty floor if it hadn't been for Harry's quiet but strong presence at the edge of his vision, his accented voice like a soothing balm on his agitated nerves.

So he had taken a deep breath, in and out and in seconds the walls he had built back when he had been nothing more than a child to take on all the shit life had thrown at him rose up around his heart and mind, feelings just a far away notion now. He knew from Harry's widening eyes what he must have looked like, blank, distant orbs and determined jaw, well, he had been raised a soldier first and foremost after all.

Cas being gone for the time being, they were finally alone but Dean persisted in his tortured silence cause he didn't know what to say except, "When Cas comes back, I want you to go with him, back to Sam. Is that clear?" Dean ordered more than asked and he was startled by how alike with his dad it made him sound.

He hated it.

"What?" Harry breathed the word out in clear disbelief.

Dean forced himself not to look in those puppy-dog eyes that were worst than Sam had ever achieved cause he didn't want to fold on that matter, couldn't back down from that. It was not an order he expected to be questioned or challenged upon. He couldn't do it with Harry watching, he didn't want the smaller male to see him that way ever again, he just, he couldn't

"I said," He repeated through gritted teeth, "you aren't staying here."

"But Dean-" Harry started but he didn't let him finish, didn't care about what he would say.

"No." And a resounding one at that. "You listen to me-" He continued, aware that he could slip the longer he argued with the younger hunter.

"No you listen!" Exclaimed the other man and Dean could feel a forceful tug on his arm that forced him to bore down into two emerald pools that were all but glinting in stubbornness, damn it, he knew it, he was already feeling his walls slowly but surely coming apart, "You saved me, took me in, helped me more than anyone ever had before, than anyone ever tried to, protected me, took care of me, supported me and comforted me, taught me how to live again, you have been more of a family to me than I have ever had, than I've ever hoped to have so… I'm staying. Because that's what you taught me familydoes: they have each other's backs. They don't walk out on each other." Dean stared; mouth dry and wide-eyed, he couldn't look away, stunned, barriers all but forgotten in front of the whirlwind of raw emotions coming his way from the lithe male gripping him almost violently, holding him locked in place with painfully honest orbs and willing him to just see, "Let me help you for once, let me do the same for you." Dean was opening his mouth to respond to that but apparently Harry knew him well, probably too well because he stopped him before even a sound could come through, "And no, don't even think it. It's not because I feel like I need to repay you, it's because I want to." The messy-haired male said sternly.

"Am I making myself clear?" He teased after a moment of ringing silence passed between the two of them, green eyes dancing in mirth and mischief.

Dean just nodded, winded, like the air had been punched right out of him, blinking slowly in wonder, mouth agape and at lost for words, "Okay," he managed to croak out, "Fair enough." He got out coughing.

Harry eased his hand out of his checkered flannel saying, "Good," before going to sit on the metal table like nothing had just fuckinghappened.

Dean stayed rooted to his spot until Castiel came back; torture devices already disposed on a rolling plate, he dryly swallowed back the bile he could feel raising in the back of his throat, he looked up and locked his eyes onto trusting viridian eyes. He nodded trying to convey too much in so little time because now was totally not the moment for a chick-flick and he wasn't good at them anyways so he dearly hoped his eyes would do the job. Harry seemed to have the uncanny and slightly unnerving ability to read Winchesters like they were open books and Dean wasn't disappointed: the other seemed to get it as an understanding wry smile pulled the other's youthful features into something sharp and entirely too familiar.

Let's get this show on the road, he thought, as an identical grin appeared on his own face.


Harry watched Dean's back as he pushed the door with his cart, slowly being engulfed by the darkness of the make shift cell, he gulped painfully, a stinging behind his eyes that he tried in vain to stop. He blinked furiously, pushing his hands onto his orbs until he saw stars. He was desperately trying to steel himself to follow the American man in because he had meant each and every words he had said earlier and he had never been more determined to follow them but Merlin it was hard, to be honest he didn't really want to see what Dean would become in there, seeing the spark all but vanishing from the usually lively hazel-green eyes of the taller man had been more than enough and he definitely didn't want to hear Alastair's nasal voice oozing taunts at him anytime soon but he had to.

Had to, for Dean.

He repeated those words like a mantra in his mind.

Harry couldn't help but to be slightly skeptic about Dean's aptitude to crack the demon, Alastair had billions of years and years of torture under his belt, an eternity surrounded by it really and he knew first hand how the white-eyed monster could apply it to the best of his hellish abilities, Dean only had ten and again, Alastair was a bloody demon for Merlin's sakes.

It's not that he didn't trust Dean to achieve his task; just that he wished he didn't have to in the first place.

Couldn't they have found someone else?

But he supposed it couldn't be helped by now, Dean was inside and had already sharpened his knives, besides it's not like the angels were notoriously known to admit to there wrongdoings.

Thinking of angels made him turned to Castiel with suspicious jade eyes because the angel's behavior had been really weird for lack of a better word to describe the submissive demeanor he had adopted when Uriel had been in his vicinity and he wanted to know what was happening with their savior before going in because he had the inkling clue that when the door would click shut behind him and he was in, well, he wouldn't be out for quite a long, long, excruciating time…

"What's going on Castiel?" He asked softly trying to catch the familiar blue eyes but the other seemed determined not to and it made him smiled amusingly, what a human gesture, he thought.

"I don't know what you mean." The angel answered articulating the words in the way Harry was growing used to, like the language was somehow unfamiliar to the otherworldly man, like he was tasting the vowels as he said them, still annoyingly avoiding his gaze.

"Since when do you answer to Uriel? I thought you were his superior." He insisted because two could play this game.

"I am." The other responded blankly and Harry was starting to get seriously frustrated by the lack of emotions he had been getting used to hear or see on the angel.

Harry snorted obnoxiously loud, "Didn't seem like it." He stated rudely trying to get a rise out of the man, to ruffle his feathers, as Dean would surely say, Harry thought, lips twitching.

Ah, there! He thought triumphantly seeing irritation flashing bright and blue and there in the sapphire orbs of the winged man who suddenly let his arms fell from where he had crossed them on his chest in a defensive move, standing up from his hunched position on the table and turning, staring at Harry with his uncomfortably intense and knowing stare.

It was like the man could see right through him with his eyes as old as the earth and as blue as the ocean, Harry shifted uncomfortably under it, it was easy to forget that the man had seen the creation of all things when he was all but swallowed by his clothes and looking out at the world around him with perpetually puzzled and confused orbs but being put under that sharp steady gaze, Harry was certainly reminded of it.

"My superiors have begun to question my sympathies." Castiel said sighing in an entirely human way, shoulders slumping and Harry realized for the first time how tired the angel looked.

"Cas?" He asked softly, stumped by the other's answer.

"They think I've begun to grow too close to the humans in my charge." Castiel said staring at him meaningfully and Harry's eyes widened in surprised understanding. "Dean and you, Harry." He said confirming what he had already gathered.

"Is it that bad?" The green-eyed man questioned, his voice even softer like he was coaxing a startled animal.

"Emotions, Harry. They know I've started to feel and it's a floodgate to doubt. They feel it's going to impair my judgment and they, we, I cannot afford that." Castiel said the blank stare back in full force like he realized he had slipped while saying those very words.

Harry nodded but a bitter tang flooded his mouth at the information he was being given, he really disliked Castiel's superiors, angelic pricks…

"I know this is hard for both Dean and you but for what it's worth I'm so-" Castiel started his voice deeper and echoing on the walls of the empty warehouse but Harry cut him off because it was far from being the other's fault.

"I don't blame you Cas and I'm pretty sure Dean doesn't either, it's just… orders are orders right?" Harry stated in bleak derision, already turning around and into the room that wasn't yet filled with screams and consequently not seeing the sad stare dimming the blue orbs as they watched his retreating back.

Harry opened the door and it seemed so, so heavy, it was like a weight he wouldn't be able to possibly lift, then Alastair's self-satisfied drawling tone reached him and he stopped, impossibly still at the threshold, closed his eyes, gathered all his will power, raised all his shields, opened his eyelids to reveal two hard-edged orbs and plowed on…

… For Dean, he reminded himself, nodding decisively and taking another fateful step, the door clinking shut a resounding noise in his eardrums.

For Dean.


"Damn it!" Sam screamed helplessly at the suddenly, dreadfully empty room.

Getting out of his shock of seeing both his brother and Harry disappearing right from under his nose to God knows where with practiced ease, he quickly pulled out his phone from his pocket.

His fingers scrolling the contacts till it rested on Bobby, he thought about calling the older hunter for help, he really should, he thought, but he saw himself passing it with only a flicker of guilt rushing trough him that he stamped on as fast as it had appeared.

He called Ruby.

Because, honestly, who else is there?

Fucking angels and their stupid, useless plans, Dean couldn't do it Sam knew he couldn't. He had been able to observe his brother for weeks now since they had talked about what had happened to him and Harry down in the basement and Dean wasn't what he used to be, wasn't the headstrong man Sam had looked up to for most of his life. He was nothing more than a shell of his former self, something had happened to him downstairs and it made him weak, stronger than most but weaker than Sam. He was almost constantly drinking, his flask of whiskey never too far from reach, barely sleeping, tired like Dean had himself declared earlier, more prone to back down, his brother was running on fumes and they couldn't afford that at all, it was war, goddamn it, couldn't he see that? And in wars, you gotta do anything you can to get the job done, even things you don't wanna do.

For fuck's sakes, their own father had taught them that.

Sam didn't understand his brother and he sure as fuck didn't admire him anymore.

He didn't understand what drove him, what could get him to act and fucking do something, cause it wasn't revenge that was doing the job for his older brother, Sam was pretty sure on that point, he could understand revenge, anger, rage, hell: it was what worked for him. But it wasn't that that he could see in his brother's speckled green eyes, no it was more akin to something like resignation and Sam knew that was too close to defeated than anybody, particularly him was comfortable with.

Sam hated it and that's how he was certain that Dean wouldn't be the one to kill Lilith.

He would.

He didn't care about what the angels were saying and maybe, maybe he was a bit jealous that Dean had been chosen by them, of course he would be the one favored by the winged morons while Sam had to deal with demon blood and being constantly called "special" or "chosen" by black-eyed bastards…

Plus, what made him clench his large hands into fists, made him grind his teeth noisily, made him turn his eyes a few shades darker and his muscles coiling and rippling under his layers of flannel was that, that stupid, reckless, beautiful boy had been taken with him, well, more like he had jumped on Dean the moment the wizard had realized what Uriel was about to do… Jealousy flared in the pit of his stomach that he didn't bother to tackle down, figuring that he could work with that, it would turn into righteous anger soon enough, he thought with a smirk.

Since Dean had announced with his rough voice earlier that he thought Harry was an 'angel', well, Sam had been able to see that Dean's parental feelings for the younger man were shifting, shifting into something deeper, into something that could lead to an all other path.

A path Sam didn't want them to follow.

His older brother wasn't aware of it yet as far as Sam could see but he knew, he could see it happening day-by-day, Sam wasn't completely blind to his brother's actions and Sam had to act and act fast because, for Harry, against Dean

…He didn't fool himself into thinking he stood a chance.

Thinking of them made him realize that, Jesus, God, fuck: it was probably a given by now that Harry would have to endure seeing someone being tortured, even if it was Alastair, Sam knew, it wouldn't do a lick of difference and the green-eyed man would have a panic attack for sure because he had thought wise to go and help Dean through it, he snorted.

And Sam…

…Sam wouldn't be here for him.


He punched one of the awfully colored walls in his rage with enough force to put a dent on it and he eyed it self-satisfyingly.

Curling and uncurling his damaged knuckles relishing in the little sting of pain that grounded him to what he needed to do, what he was about to do.

Two sharp knocks on the door and Ruby's familiar scowling face startled him out of his darkening thoughts.

When she straddled him, intent on kissing him, he reluctantly let her, closing his eyes and imagining soft plump red lips, the natural scent of ozone and lightning and just earth that seemed to clung to Harry, silky dark messy hair sliding between his long fingers, all the while trying to valiantly block his nose of the smell of sulphur invading his nostrils, surrounding him, coating him like a blanket and just plain reeking.

And as she slowly, tauntingly so, cut her arm, crimson blood welling up like a damn fountain and tainting her pale unblemished white skin until only red filled his vision. As he pounced on it, lips pulled and teeth bared, sucking and suckling on it like a man thirsty for water, feeling the rush, the sheer coppery-tanged power steadily filling him from the inside out, he convinced himself it was for those same emerald gems that he needed it.

Closing his eyes against the harsh reality of what he was actually doing and projecting a perfectly detailed image of those bright, vibrant viridian orbs staring up at him in adoration and pride and love as Sam saved him.

However, he couldn't quite manage to lie to himself that much.


"-John Winchester-" That was the first thing Harry heard entering the damp room, the demon was smiling from ear to ear, eyes glittering in the dim lights as he goaded Dean with his crooning voice.

Harry tuned him out.

He stayed, for now, hidden in the shadows, quickly shifting his eyes from the sight of Alastair attached to the angels' rack onto the spiky-haired man's hunched back who was going through the weapons uselessly, he was stalling, the younger hunter knew that Dean had known which sharp objects he could use the moment he had sent Castiel with that list.

"Oh, I almost forgot, I had Harry before dear ol' John." Harry was startled out of his slight trance at the mention of his name, ripping his gaze away from that blue shirt and snapping them on burning pupil-less ones, "You thought I wouldn't see you hiding there darling? Tsk tsk tsk, not really becoming of a savior is it?" He said in that hateful fake disappointed tone of his.

Dean dropped what he had been getting, the clattering echoing loudly around them.

Harry stepped out of his corners slowly, warily, "You know I offered him the same deal as you and your daddy." Alastair announced, each word pronounced like he was already enjoying the impact they were going to have.

The green-eyed man froze, his eyes widening as Dean whipped around pinning him with his, dark green, almost black eyes and Harry flinched away from them staring at the gleeful demon, "What did you just say?" He asked harshly, his eyes narrowing into two chips of ice.

"Oh you probably don't remember. It was thousand years ago give or take after all." He nonchalantly said.

Harry had kept one eye on Dean as he questioned his long-time torturer and he saw with some relief that the betrayed glint they had gotten, went away as fast as it had come.

"But you never broke, feisty little thing you are and at some point I just stopped asking. Besides you were too much fun on the rack, it would have been a shame. And I really do mean it." Alastair drawled chuckling.

Harry felt his head spinning, his eyes glazed over and he whispered, "Why? Why did you need me in Hell? Why did that demon approached me? Just why?" He asked firing questions after questions that were all but burning the tip of his tongue in their intensity.

"Oh aren't you just precious… Men, well, boys really, like you, there aren't many out there in this cruel, cruel world. You're special, a rare treat to have in the pit, didn't you know?" Alastair asked like it was common knowledge that he was demons' bloody caviar.

Harry was so enraged; he could feel his magic fleeting along his skin like it was static current, making it tingle all over, the wood of his wand pressing into his wrist like it was begging for him to take it out and use it.

He did.

Smoothly dropping it out of its holster and pointing it at the bound and vulnerable wanker, without even getting him the time to taunt him further he whispered coldly and without intonation, "Crucio."

And he watched with vindictive eyes as the one who had tormented him years after years in a seemingly endless vicious spiral, turned, twisted and writhed in the chains' hold, bending awkwardly in his bounds and muscles obviously straining. Screaming deep guttural, gurgled noises of pain.

A familiar rough voice croaking, "Harry." And a familiar calloused hand on his shoulder stopped his concentration and his arm dropped to his side, the red haze his mind had turned into drifting, his stick of wood falling uselessly from his slack fingers and to the ground.

He turned lost dead eyes to the hazel-green ones of Dean, fully prepared to see disgust, rejection or worst: fear. But only saw an expected wariness that was quickly overwhelmed by understanding. He didn't deserve that, he had just, he had just, Merlin even during the war he hadn't used that spell, at least not successfully but here it had come so effortlessly, scarily so. Hell had screwed him up in more ways than one and he didn't want to discover the other ways it had if that was the result.

He was quickly working himself up for a full-blown panic attack when Dean's deep baritone pierced through, "Harry. I know you want to stay, I get that, and you can but let me hold up my part of the deal okay? I don't want you to get your hands bloody." Harry nodded weakly as he bended down pocketing his wand as they both ignored Alastair's delighted praises and wheezing laughs in the background.

"Let me go all Guantanamo on him. I am the big bad American here." He said, his joke falling flatly but Harry chuckled nonetheless for just the sake of trying to lighten a situation that was as heavy as it got. He had always been impressed by the older man's skill at doing that.

Dean flashed a quick fake smile before turning around and grabbing the holy water with a one-minded focus that told Harry that it was on.

"So see Dean, your dad never broke. Green-eyes never broke but you, you, daddy's little girl broke in thirty…" He said mockingly with a snort.

Harry saw Dean almost crushing the bottle of alcohol he had taken, gulping the amber liquid as if it was the only thing holding him together. Before putting it down with a final violent smack and like it was his cue Dean became blank-faced even as he saw all the twisted feelings from guilt and shame to revenge, hate and rage bordering on fury storming the swirling dark green eyes that were glowing in promised pain.

Harry looked away.

"You know something Alastair. I could still dream. Even in Hell. And over and over you know what I dreamt? I dreamt of this moment. And believe me, I got a few ideas." Dean said as if he was talking about the weather, picking up a scary looking syringe full to the brim with holy water and advancing on a, Harry could smugly see, wonderfully silent Alastair with purposeful steps.

Stopping inches from his face, "Let's get started." The other man whispered darkly with smoldering orbs.

Indeed, thought Harry.

It began.

"I carved you into a new animal Dean." Alastair snarled in Dean's face.

Couldn't he just shut up?

Harry thought desperately because he couldn't help but think that statement was true, he hated himself for it but he couldn't very well deny what he had seen in the past twenty minutes? He didn't know. It could have been hours for all knew. Dean was not himself, well, it was a part of the man, obviously, but that wasn't Dean. That was a piece of him he had left in the pit, a twisted, rotten piece he had been forced to find again.

He had lost chunks of himself down there too, some he would never found back, some he hoped he wouldn't. But he hadn't ever taken up a knife, not once and that was the gist of it wasn't it? He didn't remember the deal Alastair said he had proposed to him during his two first centuries, the bloody bastard should have continued, he knew he would have said 'yes' at some point in the third, he thought cynically.

He couldn't judge Dean and he wasn't, he just bloody crucioed the talkative moron and it could have been him on that rack being carved into by the handsome man and he hadn't cared, still didn't.

But damn it, it was hard seeing him like this, obviously reveling in every bit of the gurgled noises, screams and blood coming out of Alastair's borrowed body (wasn't a dark part of his own mind enjoying it too, hell, the pleasure he had felt when he had casted the blasted curse for one, the way he had thought about that precise moment for years while on his rack…)

He just wanted it to stop, for all of their sanities, Harry was already having a hard time keeping a tight leash on his memories, he had gotten better after the talks they had but it was a bit of a stretch right now (in here). The fact that Dean tortured in an all-different way he used to be tore open helped a bit.

Not that much.

And Dean was all but gone right now as he lifted his head from where he had put it between his two hands and watching him forcing the blade deeper, twisting it till he was millimeters away from the demon's pained face, "Maybe you're right. But now it's my turn to carve."

There was only so much a man could take before he snapped and he thought Dean might just be on his way to.

"It was supposed to be Harry. He was supposed to bring it on. Then when that didn't work: your father. But in the end, it was you."

How the bastard could still talk with his throat hanging out was a mystery, let alone laugh but Harry stood at the mention of his name, the hope for some answers raising its awfully bright head before he squashed it down viciously. He couldn't bring himself from asking though, he had always been too curious, "Bring what on?" He whispered hoarsely, his voice scraping and foreign like he hadn't used it in a very long time.

Both of their heads turned and snapped to him, one grinning maniacally, always grinning, the other surprised like Dean had forgotten he was even there in the first place and he probably had, losing control of memorie lane could do that. Then the experienced hunter looked from the battered demon's form, his hands drenched in blood, the used equipment on the table and back to Harry then back down to his hands. His shoulders slumping, his gait loosing the edge it had had, his eyes closing tightly and Harry couldn't bear to watch the shame and guilt suddenly painting his stance.

He walked to Dean and grasped his hands in what he hoped was reassurance, squeezing them tightly once, twice, finally feeling an answering one and seeing Dean's eyes opening and searching, Harry nodded tightly even if it wasn't enough, won't ever be enough. It seemed to do the job thought as the other man nodded sharply back as Harry let go of his hands, trying to forget the feeling of the crimson liquid sliding between his knuckles to focus on Alastair's stupid, ugly smirking face.

"Bring what on?" He repeated loudly.

"I've reintroduced the same offer, same as witch-boy, same as your father. And finally you said: 'sign me up'. Oh the first time you picked up my razor, the first time you sliced into that weeping bitch. That was the first seal." Alastair said with sick pleasure shining out of his grey eyes from his livid and bloodied features, staring at the man behind him that was already back in control, or as much as he could be, and putting salt on an another knife.

Harry choked on air at that because demons lie but sometimes they bend the truth because why lie when the truth hurts so much more? And it made sense; it all suddenly came together in his mind in a horrifying puzzle that he found rapidly he had never wanted to solve.

Dean only had a fraction of fear widening his eyes to show his reaction before he came face to face with the gloating fucker, "You're lying." He heard the older male deny vehemently.

Merlin, Morgana and fuck, fuck, fuck, Harry whished the white-eyed monster was but he could feel it in his guts he wasn't, he wasn't.

"And it is written that the first seal shall be broken when a Righteous Man sheds blood in Hell. As he breaks, so shall it break." Alastair gravelly said in an unexpectedly solemn voice that resonated, bouncing on the metal walls of the enclosed, suffocating space and echoing in his head over and over and over again till he shook it violently, gripping his hair in a painful grip that he reveled in at the moment, keeping him focused, there, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"The only way to get the others to follow." Alastair sing-sung and why hadn't they killed him already?

He couldn't care less about the world, well he did but he had known it was slowly going down the drain for a long time now but Dean, Merlin, bloody fuck, goddamn it, Dean. He was going to kill himself over this, he was going to drown himself in an endless pit of guilt and despair and that, that was a sure road to death and sacrifice, he could tell from experience.

Harry glanced up from where his eyes had fallen on the white lines of the devil's trap to look at his retreating back, distancing himself, he made his way over, turning around the older man to be able to see him, drowning out the inane accusations of Alastair as he did so.

Facing Dean, he could see the man wasn't able to as his full lips trembled softly, his eyes closing in despair under the overwhelming blame, Harry gripped both sides of his head firmly in his, sliding his fingers through the cropped hair softly. It didn't relax him, how could it? But the other opened his eyes, eyelids fluttering softly to show utterly drained watery orbs, "Hey, hey, Dean it's okay, well, it's not but you didn't know, you couldn't have known. We'll get through this; we'll fix it, you, Sam, and me we'll show them. Right?" He rambled, smiling wobbly at the end with his own teary eyes.

"Yeah." He whispered gulping visibly, eyes still glazed, "Yeah we will." He said, a spark shining through and Harry's smile turned sincere.

Louder, Dean said, "No, I don't think you're lying." He nodded to Harry, who let his arms fall away, "But even if the demons do win," He declared fiercely and Harry observed him, sort of oddly entranced by the taller man, "You won't be there to see it." The hunter finished darkly, clenching his jaw and putting the knife in striking position.

As he turned around, Harry got out of his dazed state only to see empty chains, "You should really tell your plumber about the pipes."

His eyes widened and as he suddenly felt a sharp blade sliding through his stomach like butter and he heard a breathy shocked, "Harry", when he hit the slightly wet ground, the only thought that was passing through his head was,

Bloody angels.


When Sam arrived at the warehouse Ruby's blood was pumping through his veins from his hands to his eyes, mixing with his own already tainted by Azazel's and it pulsated inside of him in big black powerful waves that wanted to jump out of his skin and attack.

Most of all: it felt fucking good.

So when he blasted the doors open and strode in and he saw Harry with a knife sticking out of his side and making a rather impressive puddle of blood beneath his prone form, his brother unconscious, battered, bruised and bloodied with his limbs bent in impossible ways.

Well, he didn't think, he just acted, his hand shooting out in rage and pushing Alastair away from the weakened angel squeezing the demon from the inside out, reveling in the effortless way he could make him suffer, the power he had in the palm of his hand, just a flick of his wrist and he would be dead.

Speaking of which, "I'm stronger than that now. Now I can kill."

He waited till the vessel's eyes rolled in the back of his head, the demonic white showing than he flung him harder and watched in smug satisfaction as lights flickered in and out of the meat-suit, a last gurgled scream and then nothing.

Sam bored down onto his corpse, smirking.

Until Castiel moving towards the unconscious bodies littering the floor made him go back to reality, the adrenaline leaving him so fast he got whiplash, running and dropping next to Harry not glancing at Cas for fear of what he would see in those heaven's orbs.

"Take us to the hospital." He ordered while he grabbed the hilt of the blade imbedded in Harry's fragile skin, painting his clothes in a thick red color that made him want to puke, shutting his eyelids and ripping it out before he dropped his jacket and pushed it on the wound trying to stop the never ending flow.

And suddenly they were in front of emergency doors, Cas nowhere in sight and Dean and Harry on either side of him on the concrete apparently trying to challenge each other for the one who could bleed out first.

"Help! I need help here!"

God, he hated hospitals.

With Harry in surgery and Dean breathing through a tube Sam was restless, couldn't sit still watching his brother lying there on the bed, looking so weak and thin didn't really do anything for his nerves (and if he took a sip out of Ruby's vial, nobody had to know).

So when he saw Castiel in all his angelic, trench-coat glory he shot out of the uncomfortable chair marching into the hallway, "Get in there and heal them. Miracles now." He hissed fuming.

He didn't even bother listening to the other's response, eyes flashing black; "You and Uriel put them in there because you can't keep a simple devil's trap together."

There were no excuses and he cut the man off before he even thought of uttering one, "This all thing was pointless, you understand that? The demons aren't doing the hits. Something else is killing your soldiers."

"Perhaps Alastair was lying." Castiel said his tone belying the creeping doubts Sam could see in his blue eyes.

He stopped that train of thought quickly cause he was damn sure Alastair wouldn't have lied when he had had him choking on his own thick smoke.

"No he wasn't."


Dean woke up groggily, too familiar beeping noises and the scent of chemicals assaulting his ears and nostrils; lights suddenly blinding him and he quickly shut his eyes against the onslaught, fucking hospital then.

Oh how he loathed them.

The events from earlier suddenly caught up to his fuzzy brain and he sat up, pain laced through all his limbs as he tried to call Harry's name out but a freaking tube had been shoved up his throat.


He violently ripped it away coughing his lungs out.

Great, just fucking great.

"You shouldn't do that." He heard Cas's gravelly voice from his left and he rolled his eyes, dropping back onto the uncomfortable pillows tiredly.

"Harry?" He asked in a painful dry whisper.

"Sam is in his room. From what I understand he will be fine." The angel answered with his lifeless tone.

Dean clenched his fists relishing in the lightning pain shooting up his arm, hating himself, Alastair and the damn angels for the fact that Harry had to come in here in the first place. "You need to learn how to manage a damn devil's trap."

"Uriel is dead." Dean didn't care; he just wanted Harry to wake up and be fine and Sam to, well, he didn't know what he wanted his little brother to do or be anymore. "It was disobedience, he was working against us."

Dean stayed silent because he didn't know what he could say, he didn't give a flying fuck about the son of a bitch, didn't need to know about how he died, didn't want to know, he didn't even feel tired, just numb, apathetic…

"Is it true?" He asked because he might as well take the hits while he was already down and beaten up, it probably couldn't get worse anyway, "Did I break the first seal? Did I start all this?"


Dean shut his eyes tightly trying to deny the harsh truth that was being beaten into him by the angel.

Castiel's rough voice drowned out by the chorus of hisfaulthisfaulthisfaulthisfaulthisfaulthisfaulthisfaulthisfault that was being screamed at him from all sides in his messed up mind, caught in an endless loop of guilt that churned and turned his insides and he couldn't help but be glad he had ended up in the emergency service, he fucking deserved it.

He didn't think his self-loathing, his fucking self-worth could drop even lower but apparently he was being proven wrong.

"The Righteous Man who begins it, he's the only one who can finish it. You have to stop it."



"Lucifer? The Apocalypse? What does that mean?" He muttered incredulously. "Hey!" He raised his voice and he was surprised he could still feel angry, it was reassuring in a way, "Don't you go disappearing on me you son of a bitch, what does that mean?" He cried out, his eyes stinging and burning.

"I don't know." Oh fuck that.

"Bull!" The guy really thought he could spout sentences after sentences filled with grand words like Fate and Destiny without finding him a proper answer; he would even go with a lie at that point.

"Dean they don't tell me much. I know: our fate rests with you." Cas said with a dreaded finality.

Dean looked away, his anger curbed and forced back into him forcefully, he distantly realized he was crying, he didn't do anything: just let them fall, let them all fall, "Then you guys are screwed. I can't do it Cas. It's too big. Alastair was right; I'm not all here. I'm not strong enough. I guess I'm not the man either of our dads wanted me to be. Find someone else. It's not me."

Not him.

He wasn't buying that prophecy crap.

What was the point? He didn't see it anymore, they were just struggling sluggishly through thick shadows and infinite darkness all of the damn time for everyone and everything…

He tried not to feel like a coward as Harry's teary green eyes full of hope and admiration flashed in his mind from when he had said the exact opposite.

It didn't really work.

He didn't go to sleep that night.


They checked out.

Nobody talked.

Nobody looked at each other except for furtive glances that didn't answer any of their questions, demands, worries and a million other things…

They found the first motel room and all crashed into their beds.

They just didn't want to think for a couple of hours.

Familiar and by now, despised, pure white light engulfed their bodies.

It didn't seem like their wish was going to be granted anytime soon.

Harry woke up with the familiar weight of his husband lying on his chest; he smiled fondly at the tuft of, for once, messy and not sleek blond hair tickling his bare torso.

"Morning." He heard the man muffle into his skin and he shivered at the sensation.

"Hey." He said back with a rough sleep-induced voice and when he saw the other wasn't moving he shook him up, "Come on, get up Malfoy." Harry said using the surname teasingly.

The blond-haired man whined loudly, "You're such a pain in my ass Potter."

Harry's green eyes glittered with mirth before he said with a very serious tone, "I know I was last night."

Draco's head shot up with a scowl firmly in place, furrowing his brows but his grey eyes had a certain light in them that made him grin widely as he bent down to kiss it softly away, "Gotta go to work."

His husband's only response was to put his elbow on his firm stomach and put his head onto his hand, bending it sideways as he looked at him with big pleading eyes and a rather cute pout twisting his lips, "Can't you call in sick?" He asked petulantly.

Harry dropped his head back on the pillow laughing huskily, "You spoiled, lazy git." He muttered before gripping the rather long shining hair, shifting his weight so he was on top and dropping his mouth on the full lips beneath him, slipping his tongue in without asking permission, forcing the other's tongue into submission easily and mapping out the familiar dips and crevices thoroughly. He stopped smirking down at the dazed orbs of his lover; "I'll make it up to you."

"Promise?" The other asked pouting once again.

"Promise." He nodded before putting another small and tenderer one, kissing the pout away and jumping out of bed into the shower.

"Beside don't you have to see Hermione today, something about the new magical creatures laws?" He asked uncertainly as he walked towards the bathroom.

He laughed lowly when he heard the rather loud groan.

Harry heard the shower's door opening and turned to see Draco already on his knees looking up at him with heated grey eyes, his cock hardened fully at the sight, "Draco?" He asked roughly.

The other only smiled slyly before engulfing his member into his sweet, hot, wet mouth, his pink lips stretching around his girth and Harry dropped one hand, gripping his hair and Draco only hummed sinfully and the green-eyed man moaned, "Merlin, fuck." And he began thrusting wildly into the heated cavern surrounding him

He didn't last long and Draco smirked arrogantly up at him with his face covered in come and he groaned, his member twitching in interest but he convinced himself to quickly washed them both up.

As Draco got out of the tiled room to get dressed, Harry following him until he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror.

He stopped, staring.

He looked young, really young like he hadn't aged a day since the final battle; he actually didn't look anything from what he did yesterday. Most of his scars were gone replaced by new ones, one in the lower left of his stomach looked particularly fresh, and he didn't, he didn't have that one going to bed last night, he knew he didn't. It looked like a knife wound and he hissed as he poked it.

"Harry?" He heard Draco asked from the bedroom.

"Yeah." He answered absently.

"We received letters from the kids." Harry perked up at that, his eyes shining excitedly in the mirror before he saw his left hand was free of the words that had been carved into it since fifth year, he touched the smooth skin in awe.

He looked back up into the mirror and yes; he still appeared to be an eighteen years old teenager, what in Merlin's name was going on?

Green eyes so different than his own, shaggy-brown hair and a black gleaming car were suddenly flashing one after the other before settling again on those golden-speckled green orbs surrounded by freckles and Harry shook his head sharply. He was once again alone in his own mind and in the mirror, the moment gone but not forgotten.

What the hell was that?

Why did he look like that?

And more importantly why did those images (memories?) made him feel like he was missing something?

Thinking of missing made him realize that yes, there was a hole in his chest or it at least felt like one, like he was missing a limb…

"Harry!" He heard the call of his name and he decided that he'd investigate and take care of whatever new weird problems he seemed to have later.

He was already late as it is.

Harry flooed to the Ministry in a strange state, he had asked his husband if he didn't look different to him but only got a blank stare and an exasperated, 'you look fine, really I thought I was the one full of himself.' The news of the children coming tonight had got right passed his head even if he was inwardly pleased, he just couldn't concentrate, this all day was starting to give him a headache.

He arrived to his office, saying hello and the normal small talk as he crossed people he worked with every day not a single soul had said a word about his appearance even thought he knew he looked emaciated, gaunt, pale, too young and like he had bled out and almost died sometime during the night.

Harry saw a note convoking him to the boss's office so he went; it was like he was doing everything on automatic, he realized he was in shock or something like that. Merlin, he needed to focus, he was an Auror for crying out loud. He couldn't afford not to have his head in the game (strange way of thinking, he thought. That sounded vaguely American, it sounded weird even in his head like he wasn't the one who was supposed to say it.)

Oh for Merlin's sakes, he took a deep breath before knocking on the door, which opened under his closed fist, he entered cautiously only to see that it wasn't Amelia behind the desk but a man he had never seen before wearing a black muggle suit, he tensed, his wand already dropping into his hand.

The other lifted his head and smiled like he wanted it to be reassuring but only managing to creep Harry out even more, his magic sizzling in warning wasn't helping either. "Ah Mister Potter, an honor to meet you, I'm sorry for the short notice but I'm replacing Lady Bones for the day. I'm afraid she's home sick."

Harry felt rather foolish now, "Oh." He said lamely, "I hope she's okay then."

"She is, she is. She'll be back in no time, strong woman that one." The other stated.

Harry nodded silently not knowing what to do now and feeling oddly out of place, his magic was still restless and he tried to contain it as much as he could, he didn't need to deal with his temperamental magic ('mojo'? Where did that come from?) on top of everything and certainly not in front of his surrogate superior.

"Only paperwork for you today Harry. I'm sorry I've been informed you don't like it but it's been quiet lately." The gray-haired man informed him.

Harry hid his disappointment, he had wanted a distraction but it seemed as if it wasn't meant to be, "That's never a good sign." He nevertheless said.

The other chuckled like he was a master pleased with his dog, "Quite right boy, quite right." Harry bristled at the tone.

"Thank you sir." He said stiffly but still politely before shutting the door and heaving a breath, his magic suddenly calm as the Black Sea, huh, he thought as he looked back at the now close door with narrowing eyes but as soon as it had come it disappeared in a flash of encompassing white light and he walked back to his office with confused orbs.

Nice bloke, he thought, didn't get his name.

Harry passed the day in a sort of daze signing forms and closing cases he hadn't had the time to, boring was not enough of a word to describe it. And he kept having the uncomfortable and rather disturbing feeling that he shouldn't be here, that he wasn't meant to do that, that it wasn't who he really was, it was itching at his mind and his magic and it wasn't a good feeling.

As soon as the day was over he hurried home to welcome Scorpius and Rosalie, if nothing else they were sure to take his mind off things.

Eleven years old Rose jumped into his arms as soon as he stepped out of the fireplace, "Dad!" He laughed as he got her off the floor and began twirling her around in the air, she squealed and he kissed both of her cheeks soundly.

"Hi my little princess." He said when he put her back down.

"I'm not little. Not a princess." She said with pouting lips and her grey eyes bright.

"Oh you're not?" He inquired amusingly.

"No I'm a witch." She answered doing an impressive imitation of her father as she sniffed indignantly.

"Can't you be a witch and a princess Rosie?" Harry asked curiously.

"No you can't, I'm a witch and I'm going to be a Quidditch player just like you and Papa." She stated self-importantly.

He only laughed softly, "Alright sweetheart, now tell me: where is your brother?"

"He's doing some boring stuff with Papa in his office." Harry nodded taking her smaller hand in his and forgetting whole about his earlier anxieties and ponderings.

He went to bed exhausted after having taught how to seek the snitch to an over-excited Rose and talked, more like scolded for a long time a righteous Scorpius who had been severely punished for sending a rather dark curse to a student who had insulted Harry. That's why he had been sent back from Hogwarts, Draco had asked for Rose to come too.

Even if he hadn't been proud of what Scorpius had done, he was glad to have the excuse of seeing them, all those months with them away in the Scottish school makes the house feel empty and colder.

He felt the bed dip beside him and he lifted his arm so that Draco could slip in his usual way, "You know what?" He heard him mutter though a yawn.

"Hmm?" He murmured, eyes already closing and mind miles away.

"You'll make it up to me another time."

"Agreed. Night Blondie." He said softly, tenderly caressing his naked back.

"Good night Scarhead." The other said as the soothing motions of his hands brought them quickly into the dreams' realm.

That night he had dreamt of bloodied cells and taunting pupil-less white orbs, of a sleek beautiful car surrounded by trees as it (she?) sped along an unknown highway (home?), of him and two men (muggles?) laughing and talking and crying and suffering, of 'Sammy' as he heard the rough cry echoing in his head, of his own accented voice saying 'Dean', of another calling softly 'squirt' with a southern drawl, of hotel rooms and corny looking restaurants, of monsters he had never seen before lurking in the dark, of the flapping of wings and blue blue eyes, of desperate pained green-eyes shining out of a torn-up face…

He had woke up gasping and sweating claiming he had had a nightmare and the knowing look in the grey eyes regarding him made him look away.

Another day, another daze and the feeling scratching at the back of his head turned into a full-blown wrongness that had him running for the toilets and splashing copious amounts of water on his face.

He kept his head down; didn't want to see his face reflected back at him in its lie (truth).

He was getting ready to go back home, his brain full of questions with no answers thinking morbidly that he should be an experiment in the Department of Mysteries or something when the sight of his replacement boss passing in front of his office had him unexplainably going after him in a rush.

He followed him back to Miss Bones' bureau and entered when he saw the beckoning sign of a slightly wrinkled hand, closing the door behind him having the strange foreboding thought that he was sealing his own fate while doing so.

"What can I do for you Mister Potter?" The man questioned pleasantly.

"What's going?" Was what came out of his mouth in a breathless, anxious voice, eyes darting nervously and slapping himself in his mind for the idiotic question.

"Ah." Was his answer, "So you've realized. Well, that was no fun." The other said with a disappointing frown twisting his features when suddenly the world took a greyish unnatural complexion and he looked around wondering what kind of magic was at work before fixing the stranger.

And he remembered.

Harry stumbled on his feet, hands trembling and eyes wide, "Merlin" he whispered astonished before realization set in, "You're an angel aren't you?" The younger male asked with dread.

"Bingo!" The almost bald man said cheerfully clapping his hands, "I'm Zachariah. I'm actually Castiel's superior." He stated pompously and now Harry could see it, the vessel in front of him all but shining in heavenly possession, the muddy blue eyes of the man blank and full of starlight.

Harry stared at him speechless for quite some time before speech came back to him, "What? Why?" He said confusingly, his brain a jumble of thoughts and one in particular that he embarrassingly couldn't get out of his head, Malfoy sucked my prick, he thought hysterically.

"I had to show something to our favorite boys, mostly Dean and I couldn't have you getting in the way." The polite man from earlier had gone to be replaced by the stony eyes of a general.

"What did you do to them?" He demanded with narrowed green eyes.

"None of your business." The angel scoffed.

Harry could see he would get nowhere with this line of questioning and he figured he could simply ask Dean or Sam later anyway, when, not if, he would be able to.

"I'm in my head aren't I? I'm dreaming." Harry stated because what else could explain these last two days?

"No: Real Wizarding World, real people. I just tinkled with some memories, including yours obviously and ta-da!" He exclaimed grandly with a proud smile.

"How? Malfo-" He muttered, his mind a blank.

"Oh that, interesting huh? You had some fun I reckon, shouldn't you thank me for that?" Harry blushed and glared mutinously up at the man. "Like I said, real children and real husband, I just plucked his wife, put her somewhere else and put you in her place. Everything back in order now."

Harry nodded weakly even if bile was raising up that he swallowed back painfully stopping a whimper before it could come out because it was like he had raped his high school rival, kind of at least, Merlin this was fucked up and he was preparing himself to curse the angel, noticing his wand had come out during the altercation, or scream at him for all he was worth when the other slapped his hand on the wooden desk startling him.

"Now let's get down to business." Harry raised his eyes that he had dropped after he had realized the full extent of the mind-fuck that had just occurred to gaze at the serious expression adorning Zachariah's face, "You're a pain in my side Harry and you shouldn't have ever came out of Hell."

"So they keep telling me." He whispered sarcastically, Dean would be proud.

"That's because it's true." The suited man said pointedly showing him he had heard, Harry only stared at him unimpressed, "Now I'm gonna give you a choice." He said pausing dramatically and Harry rolled his eyes,

"Well go on, let's hear it." He said impatiently but he gulped discreetly when he saw Zachariah's fist clenched and unclenched and his clear eyes narrowing in contained wrath, Harry had to remember this was Castiel's commander or whatever and it wouldn't do well to piss him off too much. The angels didn't need him, he reminded himself as Zachariah bored down on him like he was dirt on the man's shoe, they needed Dean.

"Either you stay here having, approximately, the life you should have had or you go back to the Winchesters and their flashing car and you prove to me you're worth keeping alive by convincing Dean to accept his role and his Destiny." Zach, as Harry had dubbed him in his mind, waited a beat for it to print itself in his brain before adding, "Am I making myself clear?" He asked unnecessarily.

"What makes you think I can make Dean do anything?" He asked incredulous because the hunter was, no doubt, the most stubborn and headstrong man he had ever met, well except for his little brother he thought with a little private smile.

The older, billions of years older really, man only snorted in an undignified manner, "You'd be surprised." He said lowly like he was talking to himself.

Harry looked at him quizzically but ignored the comment for now.

He thought back to Draco and his relaxed smiles that, now that he thought about it, seemed alien on the blond man, to the feeling that had swelled in his chest when he had taken Rosalie in his arms, his pride when gazing at Scorpius, just, family, normality… but the kids hadn't resembled him in the least, he didn't feel anything for Draco (and the aristocrat boy certainly didn't) other than all the emotions the boy he remembered had left him with and they weren't all that good.

-And well he had been tortured for one thousand years, kind of put a damper on things like being normal (when was he ever?) or being a father… he thought with an ugly up-turn of his lips.-

Then he thought about Dean's sometimes booming laughter, his wide teasing smiles and ridiculous expressions, the way his green eyes would sparkle happily at the most simplest things, the way he would hum songs absently while driving, his inappropriate dirty jokes and heroism, his over-protectiveness and deep, warm comforting voice, he thought about Sam's little smiles and quiet laughs, his mischievous cat-like eyes when he would have a particularly rash plan during hunts, his unstoppable thirst for knowledge, his tall sometimes awkward gait when he was around people, (the taint that Harry had to stop from growing), the scent of leather, blood, sweat, gun oil and whiskey that clung to the backseat of the Impala that had become his home, the sometimes disgusting motel rooms, the bad dinner food that he had grown fond of…

Harry smiled peacefully and pierced the other with decisive green eyes, "Bring me back." He ordered.

The angel nodded unsurprised like he had known all along he would choose that option, "You know what you have-"

He cut him off stonily, "I heard you the first time. Now, bring. me. back." Enunciating the words through gritted teeth.

Next thing he knows he's engulfed by the familiar leather encased arms surrounding him in warmth he hadn't realized he had missed, "Thank God you're here squirt." He heard the man say in his messy hair with staggering relief filling his tone.

Dean let him go after squeezing one more time before the taller man took a step back and inspected him from head to toe, scrutinizing him for any new wounds; he went and dropped on his bed tiredly when he was satisfied.

Harry was then gripped in another smothering hug, crushed between the two heavily muscled arms of Sam that left him out of breath when the tallest male stepped away, gripping his shoulder lightly and looking down at him with concerned hazel orbs, "What happened to you? Where did the new dick with wings take you?"

He was preparing himself for a long explanation when Dean gazed up with a smile and twinkling eyes, snorting and saying, "Did he make you a vegan freak too?"

Harry suddenly grinned widely: it was good to be home.