The Supernatural Crossover Attempt
Notes:
- Harry, son of Crowley and Lily Evans-Potter, James step-father
- Crowley impregnated Lily, Lily married James 3 years later
- Lily infertile, made deal with Crowley to have a child only instead of selling her soul she agreed to carry Crowley's child
- Magic AU - natural wizards but no government, no Voldemort
- Crowley and Harry on good terms – sees Crowley as father, James as Uncle
- Harry – Lily’s kind heart, Crowley’s biting sarcasm; green eyes can turn red
- Overprotective!Crowley, Alive!Lily/James
- Demons can’t affect natural witches unless summoned. Natural witches are descendants of demon-deal witches.
10 yrs Hell = 1 mth Earth
122 days Hell = 1 day Earth
5 days hell = 1 hr earth
1 day hell = 12 min earth
Harry – 25 (1963 Buick Riviera)
Sam - 26
Dean – 30
Lily – 46
James – 49
Sebastian – 17
"My mom is a pure witch, not one of those deal-making knock offs."
"Yeah, and how do you know that? She made a deal to get you, didn't she?"
"Because you're only allowed to make one deal, one contract, in your lifetime. It's a binding rule set up in such a way that once you make a deal, you can never summon any other crossroads demon but the one who holds your contract, and because a human has only one soul, they cannot sell it again. In this way, you cannot keep making deals to extend your life. My father would be upset if I told you this, but deal making has very strict rules. Oh, you can wish for anything; wealth, fame, power. But there are things even wish granters can't do."
-
Prologue
-
October 31, 1979
She pulled her jacket closer to her body in an effort to create just a bit more heat in the freezing air of late fall. Winter seemed to be shoving it’s way forward, despite that fall still had over a month and a half to flourish. She glanced around, biting at her lip, before checking the box one last time. She breathed in deeply, closed her eyes, and buried the box before she could change her mind.
This was possibly one of the worst decisions she could have ever made. Certainly, if her mother ever knew – if she had been alive to know – she would possibly end up in a hole right next to the box. But then, her mother had never liked her anyway, not since her father had told her the truth. Her mother had been a Hunter. Her father was a natural born witch.
Nevertheless, she was desperate.
The doctor said it would be impossible. She would never be able to reach a dream she’d had since she was five years old. All due to one small defect, a genetic quirk passed down from her paternal grandmother. All right, she could handle that. Then the agency rejected her petition because she was only twenty-one. Then another. And another. The fourth accepted… however, she was waitlisted for eight years. That she couldn’t accept.
She vowed from the moment her cousin Pearl brought home baby Sara that one day she would be a mother, that she would have her own baby, her own child to love and to raise. She wanted one so badly. So she decided that if nature and the government would thwart her, she would turn to her father’s side of the family and use magic.
She researched for months before she found the ritual to summon a Crossroads Demon; a wish granter. She didn’t hesitate. Within a week the necessary items were gathered and a place chosen to perform the ritual.
And so here she was, holding her breath and awaiting the arrival of a demon.
“Now then. What’s a pretty lit’il thing like you doing in such a dreary place like this?”
She turned, almost making herself dizzy. Her heart jumped into her throat. A man stood behind her, slightly overdressed for the location with his black suit and heavy overcoat, looking as though he appeared from nowhere. But then, she realized, he did appear from nowhere.
He walked forward slowly, hands in his pockets, features set in what looked to be a permanent smug look.
“Well? I dun have all day, luv.”
“I want a baby,” she blurted out. He raised an eyebrow and her face flushed. “I mean, I want to be a mother. Always have. But I’m infertile, and the only agency that didn’t turn me away said I’d have to wait eight years for a viable adoption, and I just can’t wait eight years, and… please,” she clutched at her jacket, shivering. “I don’t care what I have to give up, what I have to sell…. As long as I can have a baby.”
He eyed her with slightly more interest than he showed before, considering. “What’s your name?” She looked startled.
“Um… Lily. Lily Evans,” she said slowly, brows furrowing in confusion. He smirked.
“Well, Miss Lily – may I call you Lily? – I believe we might be able to make a deal. Of course,” he added, “there is a price.”
She nodded, determined. “Anything.” He smirked.
“You want a baby, eh? Well, I want an heir.” She paled. “You may have your child, so long as you carry mine. Oh, don’t worry,” he said, attempting to look reassuring. “I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of, and that the child will want for nothing. You’ll even get to keep your soul until you die a natural death – after which your soul belongs to me, of course. So, then. Do we have a deal?”
Lily swallowed. “You… you won’t take the baby away? He or she can stay with me?”
“Like I have time to watch a crawling, drooling poop machine,” he said with a sneer. “No, you’ll do all the raising. I’ll just… pop in now n’ then. Kid’s gotta know who his father is, after all.”
Lily considered. It didn’t take her much time.
“What’s your name? I should know the name of the father of my child.” The demon gave her a wicked grin.
“Call me Crowley, luv.”
“All right. Then, Crowley, we have a deal.”
Crowley laughed darkly, laid a hand on her shoulder, and without another word they disappeared as though they had never been.
-
Three weeks later, to the astonishment of her obstetrician, Lily was declared pregnant.
-
Chapter One
-
When Harry was five, he noticed something rather unusual about his family. Unlike most of the children in his kindergarten class, his father was not the man his mother was married to. They lived in a very small town where such an occurrence was unusual but not unheard of, and in fact, it was mostly a rumor – albeit true – that his mother Lily had had a child out of wedlock at a young age and married his well-to-do stepfather a few years later.
Of course, this was not the unusual thing. What was unusual about his family, and the reasons the rumors had not yet proven true, was that his father would visit him at night, usually long after his mother and step-father had gone to bed. He had always done so, for as long as Harry could remember.
When he had finally asked his mother why, she had gone very silent for a long time, her lips pinched in a manner he recognized as her ‘I’m upset and trying not to show it’ face. She told him that his father worked odd hours, but that she would make sure he showed up during the day from then on – like a normal person. (She said the last part very quietly, so he thought perhaps he wasn’t meant to have heard it.)
That night she sent him to sleep over at his friend’s house, and from then on, on every Saturday, his father would pick him up during the day and take him out. Of course, he still showed up during the night, but Harry promised he would keep it a secret.
-
When Harry was eight, his mother sat him down and very gently told him that she was a witch and his father was a demon. He told her he already knew. This time he received her ‘That man is going to get it’ face, like the one she made when she found out his father was still visiting him in the middle of the night, or when James, his step-father, played pranks on their grouchy old neighbor Mr. Gerstein, who was always yelling at the paperboy for throwing his paper on the grass.
Harry very quickly reassured his mother that his father only told him about his demon heritage. He found out about being half-witch from her father’s journal up in the attic.
Nevertheless, Lily Potter was not happy to know that his father had been teaching him to use his combined gifts, seeing as he was… well, to be polite, a demon with very loose morals. She insisted that Harry commit part of his weekends – the part that was not already devoted to his father – learning from her the ways of natural witchcraft. Harry didn’t much like having his weekends taken away, but the magic lessons more than made up for it.
-
When Harry was eleven, he went to Hell for the first time. It had been a very bad day. Lily and James, wanting a child between the two of them, finally signed the papers to adopt another child just a few weeks before. While becoming a big brother to a very cute two-year-old was in no way a problem (and in fact, Harry would do his father proud against any who would dare harm his new brother), the stress of having a new toddler in the house and the random outburst of magical puberty had been steadily driving James and his mother up a metaphorical wall.
Harry didn’t really see what the big deal was. One accidentally blown up lamp, and off to his room he’s sent with a firm scolding ringing in his ears. All he remembered from that time was wishing very hard to be with his father and away from all of the tension, and the next thing he knew, the air was thick with the smell of sulfur and he’s peeling off his sweater as though it were the middle of June and not a snowy, freezing January afternoon.
Luckily, his father managed to find him before anyone else did and hid him away in the corner of Hell he had wrested for himself.
Harry found he didn’t really like Hell all that much. No one did, according to his father, not even the demons who lived there – well... the sane ones at least. It never became one of his favorite places, but the three days he spent with his father there were the best he’d ever had.
The fact that his mother never found out made it all the better.
-
The first time Harry’s demon half actively surfaced, he was sixteen and a careless driver nearly struck his little brother as he was riding his new bike across a crosswalk. He felt no remorse when his magic flattened a tire and jammed the steering of the car, which in turn caused it to crash into a stop sign. The driver got no more than a nice bruise, a hefty fine, and a large repair bill, but his mother was furious when she found out.
His father bought him a car.
-
The first time he really fought with his father, he was nineteen and his boyfriend of two years had cheated on him with a girl and called him a fag in front of what must have been half his college dorm in an effort to save face. His father wanted to track the guy down, trick him into a deal, and forcefully bring his soul down to hell via his hellhounds, but Harry firmly put his foot down.
They argued for half an hour. Harry said it wasn’t worth it, and that the girl was such a slut she would probably give him syphilis. His father didn’t care. In the end, Harry had to threaten to ward his room with devil traps (the ones that affected his father, but didn’t work that well on him) before his father dropped the subject… by leaving the room and not speaking to him for a month.
-
When Harry was twenty-five, Lucifer escaped from his cage and the apocalypse threatened the world.
-
Two
-
“Great.” Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust at the two bodies laying in the driveway. He sighed and flicked his hand sideways, the bodies flying carelessly into the bushes and out of the way of his car. “Hunters,” he muttered, getting back into the driver’s seat. “They never clean up after themselves.”
He bit his lip as he parked, eyeing the open door with trepidation. He wouldn’t bother hoping his father was okay, he could take care of himself. He was more worried about what he would find inside. Usually, he had no problem with Hunters. He ignored them, and they left him alone, never knowing there was anything less than human about him. Of course, that had something to do with the fact that he never killed anyone or did anything to draw their notice, but still.
He moved quickly and silently as he entered the mansion. It was dark; Harry suspected the power had been cut to make it easier to sneak in. He walked cautiously toward his father’s study, the most likely place to find him if he had ‘company’. When he came across the second pair of bodies and the half turned rug with the devil’s trap, he grimaced. Admittedly, it was more at the destruction of an expensive Persian rug than the death of more of his father’s henchmen. He didn’t like any of them anyway. They always leered at him.
He could hear his father’s dulcet tones from behind the closed door of his study and stifled a laugh at what he heard.
“So how about you don’t miss?! Morons!”
Ah. The Winchesters. Figured.
He opened the door louder than he intended to and stared as three people whirled to face him, the tallest one – a Winchester – lifting a shiny gun to point at his forehead. Almost immediately, the man was flung into a wall via his father’s powers.
“Hey!” shouted the other Winchester, running to his brother’s side. “What the hell, man?”
“Rule one of this little partnership,” his father growled, “do not ever - and I mean ever - point a gun at him!” Harry smiled at the bemused look the brother shared. “Harry!” His father rounded the table and threw an arm over his shoulder, guiding him to the bar behind the desk. “Come in, come in! Have a drink. How are you? How’s your mother?” He paused and narrowed his eyes at him. “Does she know you’re here?”
“No, thank you. Good. Great. She thinks I’m still at school.” Crowley grinned.
“Excellent! So tell me, why exactly have you traveled halfway across the country to come see me, eh? Not that I’m not happy to see you of course.”
“What…” said one Winchester.
“…the hell?” finished the other.
The two turned, somewhat surprised to see them still there. They brothers both wore expressions of extreme confusion.
“You must be the infamous Winchesters,” Harry said with a smile. “I’m guessing the destruction of the rug in the hallway – which more than likely costs more than you two manage to steal in a year – was your doing?” The taller of the brothers managed to look a little contrite, though the other just gave him a stubborn look.
“Maybe. Who the hell are you?”
“Don’t answer that.” Crowley narrowed his eyes pointedly. “They were just leaving – weren’t you, Dean?” Dean glared at him.
“Not without the bullets.”
“Bullets?” Harry looked at his father in question, before it dawned on him what they must have meant. “For the Colt. The Colt. You’re giving them the Colt? Are you insane?” He looked at his father like he’d grown a second head. Crowley shrugged.
“They want to kill Lucifer. I want them to kill Lucifer. Seems like a good idea.”
“So it’s true then.” Harry sighed and leaned against the desk. “I’ve been seeing the signs,” he said solemnly. “I figured he must have escaped from the pit when one of the Horsemen showed up at Princeton. Half the hospital came down with malaria. I left as soon as I figured what was going on, but….” Harry shook his head. “I didn’t want it to be true. That’s why I came to see you, Dad.”
“Hold up,” said Sam, flicking his eyes between the two. “You have a kid?”
“Seriously?” Dean looked both horrified and amused. “Someone actually slept with you?”
Crowley rolled his eyes. “No, he appeared out of thin air,” he said sarcastically.
“To be fair, you didn’t really give Mum much of a choice,” Harry quipped.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” the three other men said at the same time. They gave each other strange looks, looking slightly uncomfortable.
“Look, I am perfectly fine knowing that the only reason I was born was because Mum made a deal and you just happened to be the one that answered the summons, really I am, but can we get back to the point?” Harry said in annoyance. “What exactly is the plan to get rid of Lucifer? Because honestly, I can only see one end to you teaming up with them,” he waved absently at the brothers, “and to be honest I don’t quite like the odds. I would kind of like to live long enough to see my next birthday, you know.”
“I feel like I should be insulted,” Dean muttered.
“I think that’s because we were,” Sam whispered back.
“Look, fun as this fucked up family reunion is, I would really like to get out of here; so can you just hand over the ammo so we can go? And by the way,” Dean pointed at Harry, “we are perfectly capable of ganking the devil, got it?” Harry rolled his eyes.
Crowley tossed Dean the velvet case containing the Colt’s bullets and looked pointedly at the door. Harry watched the brother’s leave with a peculiar look on his face. His father narrowed his eyes at him.
“I know that look,” he said, sipping at his brandy. “I also know I don’t like it.”
“I have no idea what you mean.” Harry rounded the desk and poured himself a glass.
“Bullshit. You’re thinking of doing something stupid, reckless, and dangerous.”
“Okay, maybe a little.”
“Well, stop.” Crowley put his hands on Harry’s shoulders. “I want you to stay out of this, Harry. Stay away from this, away from the Winchesters, and as far away from Lucifer as you can get. Go home, Harry. Go back to London and stay there until I come and get you.” Crowley grabbed his chin as Harry scoffed and tried to look away. “I mean it. Bad things are going to happen. I may be a demon, but you are my son. If there is one thing I want aside from an endless supply of souls to deal, I want you safe.”
“I know, Dad,” Harry said softly. “But you know I can’t just stay away. I want you safe too.”
Crowley growled and paced for a few moments before sitting down and leaning back in his chair.
“They’ll be in Sioux Falls. And how do you know they won’t just shoot first and ask questions later, eh?” Harry grinned and showed him something in his hand.
“I don’t. But I have a feeling they might hear me out at least, especially when they realize you gave them an empty bullet case.”
Crowley laughed.
-
Three
-
Singer Auto Salvage was a dump. Not that Harry expected anything less, of course. There were piles and piles of cars in various states of destruction, most nothing more than glorified shells. The best car in the place was a shiny black Impala, parked in front of a slightly run down two-story home. Harry parked next to it and got out, casting a cautious eye around.
The front door of the house opened, and for the second time in as many days, Harry faced the muzzle of a gun. He smiled at the man behind the trigger. Dean Winchester glared back at him.
“The hell do you want?”
“As cliché as this sounds, it’s not what I want, but what you do.”
“Yeah? Well I don’t think I need anything you might be offering, so why don’t you go on home?” Dean shot him a smug smirk and slammed the door shut.
Harry sighed. “Hunters,” he muttered. He disappeared.
The inside of house was slightly nicer than the outside, which wasn’t saying much. The first person to notice him was a dark-haired man in a trench coat, who jerked around to face him, causing a chain reaction. Five guns pointed at him this time, one from each of the Winchester’s, two women, and an older man in a wheelchair.
“I really think you do, Dean.” He leaned against a wall with his hands in his pockets and crossed his ankles nonchalantly. “May I call you Dean?”
“No,” said the elder Winchester, gritting his teeth. “Now get out.”
“Wait, how’d you even get in?” asked his brother. “This house is warded against demon entry.”
“He’s a demon?” said the man in the wheelchair. Bobby Singer, Harry assumed. Bobby cocked his gun.
“No.” The man in the trench coat stood. “Not completely.” Harry shrugged, nodding in agreement.
“My mother was as human as any. Suppose that makes me only half demon. Not quite sure how it works myself, but you know, the whole mental imagery thing about your parents having sex.” He shuddered. “Yeah. So was not going there. Ever.”
“That still doesn’t explain what the hell you’re doing in my house,” Bobby demanded.
“Oh, right!” Harry took a small black case out of his pocket and flipped it open. “I believe that pretty new gun of yours needs ammunition, correct?”
“What?” Dean dug frantically through his pockets before he found the case Crowley had given him and opened it. It was completely empty. “Fuck!” He threw the case at the wall. “That bastard never intended to give us the bullets, did he? What, does he want a deal for our soul? Is that it?”
“No. I think he thought it would be funny.” Harry grinned. “You can have them. No soul required.”
“Yeah? And what’s the catch?” The older of the two women finally spoke up, glaring at him suspiciously. “No way a demon would give us anything for free.”
“Half demon,” Harry corrected. “And you’re right, I do want something.”
“Well, that figures,” muttered Sam. “So what do you want?”
Harry rocked the case back and forth between his fingers. “I want to help. Without arguments and without having to worry if I’m going to be shot in the back.”
“And in what possible way do you think you could help us?” asked Bobby. Harry shrugged.
"I'm a med student. Considering your determination to go through with suicide by supreme evil, I figure I could at least try to keep you alive while you attempt to,” Harry grimaced, “gank the devil.” He raised his eyebrow. “Seriously? Gank? Who even came up with that word? It sounds like an extremely uncomfortable body function." In the back of the room, the younger girl coughed, hiding her mouth behind her hand, though unable to hide her amusement.
“That still does not answer why you, a half demon, would want to help us,” said Trench Coat Man.
“Gee, thanks. I assume that because my father is a demon that I’m automatically supposed to be some evil bastard, is that it? Well, in case you missed it, my mother is human. She raised me to always do what I believed was right.”
“Your mother made a deal with Crowley,” Dean pointed out. “That doesn’t say much about her character.”
“She is a good woman,” Harry growled.
“Who made a deal with a demon.”
“She was desperate for a child and had just been told that she would never be able to give birth. Who are you to judge?” he snapped. “Didn’t you also make a deal? And not only that, but your deal started the apocalypse. Take a good long look at yourself before you dare lecture me about fucking character, asshole.” The room was silent, tension thick and palpable in the air. Harry sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “So will you let me help you or not, because otherwise I should really head home to London and make sure my family is somewhere safe.” He held up the bullet case and shook it back and forth. "Going once… going twice…"
"Wait." The taller of the two brothers took half a step forward, hand raised almost as if to stop him from leaving. "Just… wait a minute."
After a moment of silent communication within the group of hunters, Harry was banished to the furthest corner of the room while the others congregated in the kitchen and talked in furious whispers. Harry amused himself by watching them and making up their conversation in his head before he grew bored with that and switched to conjuring up a ball of light and tossing it into the air like a softball. After ten minutes, when the verdict still hadn’t come it, he began to throw it against a wall like a bouncy ball. Twenty minutes after the discussion started, they returned to the sitting room. He vanished the ball and faced them expectantly.
“You get one chance, boy,” Bobby said in a low voice; Harry grimaced at the nickname. “One screw-up and it’s curtains for you, got it?” Harry grinned and bounced on the balls of his feet.
“Excellent. I'll just return after work then, shall I?"
"Hold up there, Spawn. The ammo. Hand it over." Dean held out his hand expectantly, arrogance written all over his features. Harry narrowed his eyes, his grin a little sharper than before. The experienced hunters in the room tensed as the air around the half-demon seemed to warp and shimmer a little like air on a hot day.
"Let's get one thing strait, here," he said calmly, tossing the bullet case lightly in the air. "My name is Harry. It is not Boy. It is not Spawn. Harry. I offered you my assistance - mostly freely - only because, as the only few actually trying to stop the apocalypse, you need all the help you can get. Since you no longer have the excuse of not knowing my name, 'conveniently forgetting it' will have consequences. One of which may be that I, and the bullets, simply… disappear. After all," he purred, eyes locked with the elder Winchester (whom looked as though he was doing his best not to shove his fist in Harry's face - or just shoot him), "your agreement with my father was for the gun. Nothing else. Got it?" he mocked.