Chapter 5
Three weeks after they settled at Bobby’s Harry let slip that his birthday was on the 31st.
Dean panicked.
Every single year, no matter what happened, his father not being there, he got wounded on a hunt, Sam was at college, Dean got him a present. Whether he gave it in person, like when they were growing up, or sent it by letter, like during Sam’s college years which felt a bit stalkerish to Dean seeing as he had to find which dorm he was staying at the time, he got him a present. So, when Harry said his birthday was in three days casually, like it didn’t mean anything, Dean knew he had to do something for it.
He had given Sam a look, making sure he heard Harry’s off-hand comment; he did.
That is why Dean is currently slamming the gas down and speeding a little down the freeway heading to a little shop in Maryland. He had given the rundown of Harry’s training regimen to Sam for the next few days, he wished he could have been the one to teach him his first grapple, one of his favorite memories with his father was when he let a ten-year-old Dean take him down. Of course, Dean now knows his dad let him win, but at the time he had felt like he had done the impossible. But he had a mission. He was driving to his favorite gun shop, one that had been open since his father just began hunting, one that rarely if ever changes its stock, to go pick up two guns, a Beretta 92 and a Colt 1911, both chromed and both with Mother of Pears grips. Exact copies of Dean and Sam’s go-to handguns.
It had taken a while to settle on what guns exactly he would get him, he knew he would be getting him a gun, his fascination with them was obvious, which one was the question. He had deliberated between a shotgun, which Harry would be learning to handle soon, or a handgun. He’d ended up choosing the handgun because it was easier to conceal and transport with. Dean assumed when Harry went back to Scottland for school, as had been made clear he would be doing with how much the kid obviously loved the school, that he and Sam would be holding onto it, unless Harry could somehow take a gun with him to the UK which he doubted, and he didn’t want to lug around a shotgun that he wouldn’t use. He’d ended up choosing to get copies of Dean and Sam’s favorite guns because he thought that when he grew up to not be a hunter and therefore, they wouldn’t see him much, that he’d like something that reminded him of them. Dean certainly did when Sam left for college.
He drove straight for 24 hours, stopping only at the occasional gas station refuel both his car and himself, and to empty out his tank, before continuing to drive.
He paid for the dingiest, cheapest motel he could find and crashed.
He got up bright and early, got then guns, then drove those 24 hours straight again.
He was only just realizing how much he cared about the kid.
-----
Harry had woken up early, right at the same time as Dean, helped wake up Sam, and got ready for the run.
After a day or two of living with them his brothers had noticed Harry only had two pairs of clothes and, without asking, grabbed him a couple pairs of flannels, band t-shirts, jeans, underclothes, and two workout outfits. Harry felt like he was gonna cry when he saw them, but thankfully didn’t, that would have been terribly embarrassing. Though they were obviously thrifted, they weren’t threadbare and barely held together like his aunt had bought the few times he needed something when he couldn’t use Dudley’s castoffs.
So he’d smiled and put on his workout equipment, went on his run, then had breakfast. He got up exactly thirty minutes after they got back inside, the pattern they had stuck with since he got her, to go practice his shooting, when Dean put up his hand to pause him.
“What?”
“It’s your birthday, right kid?”
Harry spent a moment doing the math in his head then slowly nodded, “Yeah? So?”
Dean pursed his lips then reached down bellow the table and grabbed something, revealing it to be a box with some messy wrapping paper. He handed it to him saying, “Happy birthday!”
Harry felt his heart warm, he shot a glance at Sam and saw no surprise in his eyes, he had known.
“Thank you!”
Harry tore through the paper, capturing that exact same feeling he had on Christmas in first year when he realized that he got presents too.
Carefully opening the box revealed two objects he recognized as the guns Dean and Sam, without fail, always had on them.
“We got holsters in the other room, the maintenance equipment needed, and extra ammo in the other room. We thought it would be kind of awkward to wrap those too.”
Harry looked in awe at Dean. This might be the greatest thing he’s ever been given, only rivaled by his invisibility cloak.
Dean rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly before saying, “I thought if you had guns of your own you might have a reason to get better at shooting. Your like a dementia ridden grandma out there.”
Harry realized he must’ve been showing too much emotion that wasn’t anger or sadness, something that always threw Dean off.
The rest of the day was spent trying out his new guns, they were beautiful, eating pizza they ordered and binging a bunch of old western movies when Harry admitted he’d never seen one.
It was the best birthday he had ever had.
_____
“You wanna conjure birds? Looks like… ‘Avis’” Ron was reading from an old book in an abandoned classroom after lights out with Harry and Hermione. He wanted to crash so bad, but Harry needed this. Ron thinks Harry might just crumble without Hermione’s insistence that they train him; it was Ron’s job to help her.
Harry looked up from where we was keeping up a protego, sweating his brain out from the strain. Finally he let the spell go, gasping slightly. Hermione jumped in, “almost five whole minutes! That’s great!”
Ron didn’t think Harry agreed. He looked like he thought he failed.
Ron tried again, “Birds? Yeah?”
Harry breathed in then answered, “Sure, yeah. Sounds great.”
Ron took it. He pushed Harry into a seat and let Hermione begin to lecture him on the theory behind it, letting him think about the last few weeks.
Harry was destroyed. Ron didn’t know if he would ever recover. He didn’t even know what caused it. Hermione was convinced it was the car accident, saying that she though that, maybe, his family had died in it. The more time passed since the start of term the more he believed her.
Harry had began talking as little as possible, ghosting through life like supporting himself tool all the energy he had. It felt like everyone in the castle was collectively holding their breath for what Harry would do next.
Ron thinks they should mind their own business.
Ron’s mum had sent him a half dozen letters so far asking ‘How is Harry?’ and ‘Could Ron please look out for him?’ like Ron didn’t already know to.
Ron zoned back in to see Harry having got into position across their poorly transfigured target.
“Avis!”
A chunk of flesh and feathers shot out of Harry’s wand, slamming into the target. Ron winced.
_____
Harry couldn’t believe it’s only been a month since he got to Bobby’s, his Latin’s is great, Sam says seeing as he’s had a month of practice, he kept up with Dean and Sam in their run! Until they revealed the were going slow so he wouldn’t be left behind, he was once again dying. He hits almost all his shots! Turns out being a Seeker does have some application to the real world after school! He hasn’t come close to being to take down Dean in sparing, let alone the monster that was Sam, with his height, but Dean says he’s making progress, so that something.
All in all, life’s looking pretty good.
Until one morning Bobby pulled Dean to another room during breakfast to talk.
-----
Dean didn’t know he could feel this relaxed. He didn’t think he has ever felt anything close to this. It’s been a month since they found Harry, and he couldn’t be gladder. Sam’s be content, he has all the books and nerd shit he could want here. Harry’s funny as hell to mess with, he’s got a quick tongue when he’s not thinking too hard but gets flustered quite easily. Deans got them safe and sound, teaching Harry and sparing with Sam is enough work that it has him occupied, along with helping Bobby once in while on a car, he’s great.
Then Bobby pulls him aside one breakfast.
“Dad emailed you?” Dean, incredulous.
“Yeah, he’s got a job, says he only trusts you kids enough for this.”
Dean groaned and let out a “fuck.”
-----
Harry watched as Dean walked back in, whispered something to Sam, and they both got up and left the room.
Harry felt like the world was coming back into focus, that this last month had been a dream that’d he’d just been violently woken from.
-----
Sam stared at Dean after he finished. “No! You said no jobs. That’s what I agreed to, no jobs while Harry’s here.”
Sam tried to match his words with a look serious enough to tell Dean that he meant them.
“Dad said he only trusted us! He needs us!” Dean looked like he was trying to convince him through sheer force of will.
“No jobs.”
Dean countered with, “we can have Bobby watch him!”
Bobby broke in with a gruffly, “I ain’t no babysitter. If your gonna take him in, then you gotta’ take him, you ain’t goanna ditch him with me.”
Dean shot a pleading look at Bobby, but Sam could see he was dead serious.
“Fine! He’ll stay in the motel!”
Sams mind went to how he felt every time he was left in an old, dingy motel, smelling the rot and hearing the noises the other occupants made while hoped and prayed his family would come back safe.
“No motels.”
“Fine! We’ll get a hotel!”
Sam opened his mouth to say that no, there wasn’t gonna be a motel OR a hotel. That they weren’t going, but Dean already bolted to the door to the hallway, swiftly making his way back to the dining room where Harry was waiting. Sam followed and heard Dean saying, “quick kid, we need to leave in 20, Sam and I have a job we need to take care of. Pack everything, we don’t know how long we’ll be gone for.”
-----
Harry was sure this is what it felt like to hear your parents arguing.
The atmosphere in the car was tense, Dean seemed to be trying to keep some of the relaxed air of the hour before but whatever had happened when they talked in the other room must’ve shaken him. Sam hadn’t spoken yet, shoulders tense and looking straight ahead from the passenger seat.
The word ‘job’ was rushing through Harry’s mind, add that to the guns, hand to hand experience, and unsettling amount of scars his brothers had, Harry was pretty convinced they were serial killers.
Harry might be okay with that.
He’d certainly much rather have his brothers not be serial killers… but- everyone has their faults, right? This is Harry’s one chance to have a living, breathing, family. He wasn’t going to give that up for anything. Maybe that made him a bad person, but since the past few years he’s probably saved quite a few lives, he thinks it balances out.
Harry decided he would try to break the tension.
“I brought the Latin books, you wanna read for a bit?”
It was silent for so long that Harry was almost convinced Sam didn’t hear him, until he heard, “sure kid.”
Harry called it a success as they spent the next few hours reading quietly. Dean had turned some music on, and though the tension was still there, it had lessened some.
-----
They had crashed for the night and agreed to leave in the morning. Sam thinks he was past anger, and at acceptance. That’s not to say he wasn’t still pissed as Dean, he was, but he’s accepted it. They had found a nice hotel near the shopping district and set up.
Harry was under strict instructions to not leave the hotel room except for emergencies and if they were with him. They gave him a phone number to call with the home phone and they left. They had no idea what was the monster they were fighting this time, and he wasn’t taking any chances.
They had no leads and were scrambling to find something to tell them why they were here when the noticed that the local playground was almost entirely empty, only housing one lonely child. Questioning the mother, they found out a strange case of pneumonia was spreading through the town, one that wasn’t being effected by any medicine that was used.
They decided that this must be what they were looking for and geared up to go check out the hospital.
“Dean?”
They had interrogated the doctor in charge kids, Docter Hydecker. He said that the disease was strange in that it infected the youngest child of a family before making its way through till the oldest. Dean had tried to get a conversation with one of the victims, ‘Bethany,’ but had found out that only a few days after getting infected they fell into a comatose state. They had deliberated then decided to check out the kid’s house while the parents were busy sleeping by their kids bedside.
Dean knew he had been staring for a while, but it Sam calling his name for him to snap out of it.
“You okay?”
Dean had found something recognized, a black handprint stained into the window seal by Bethany’s bedside.
~~~~~
His dad was leaving them for a hunting trip, having packed everything. Dean had spotted a polaroid of a black handprint, making him buzz with curiosity about what his father was hunting.
“Don’t answer to anyone, you hear me?”
“Yes dad! I get it.”
His father had been at the door for the last 10 minutes, grilling him about the rules he would follow while he was gone. Dean was done, he already knew this stuff, he’d been doing all of it for years at this point, dad didn’t need to repeat himself.
Dean looked down at him, seeming to consider for a moment, before speaking, “Just watch out for your brother, okay?”
“Yeah, I know!”
~~~~~
Sam had looked over his shoulder, spotting the handprint, glancing at Dean he questioned, “You recognize it?”
Dean paused for a moment before speaking, “Yeah. I know what we’re dealing with.”
Sam must’ve heard the silent meaning behind his words and didn’t push for more.
“We’re dealing with a Shtriga. Dad faced one almost twenty years ago.”
Dean left it at that.