Chapter 19
Dean knew it was stupid.
Didn’t mean he stopped doing it.
He sat on a chair he pulled from the kitchen into the living room where, amazingly, his dad and Bobby both sat, not at each other’s throats, along with Sam. He wasn’t doing anything, not really, just… watching. For what, he didn’t exactly know, but it felt like the second he stopped would be the second it happened.
Yesterday, they all had been inches from death, Yellow-Eyes seconds away from winning. Dad’s tackle was all that saved them, though it didn’t change the fact that the door to Hell had been open releasing hundreds of ghosts and demons into the world.
They had lived though.
Harry had proved that wasn’t a guarantee.
So, he sat, watching as Sam scrolled on his laptop, his dad detailing yesterday’s events in his glorified scrap book, Bobby grumbling as he annotated a dusty old book, making sure that they continued to.
A knock interrupted his vigil.
A look at Bobby said he was thinking the same thing; the dogs hadn’t barked. It was someone they recognized.
The look Bobby gave him said he didn’t know who it was.
Dean stood and went to see who, or what, had decided to disturb them, dipping his hand in the bowl of holy water and grabbing the silver knife. He glanced to make sure the shotgun was in easy reach by the door and threw open the door.
The kid- it was a kid, stumbled back to avoid being hit.
“Merlin!”
It- it was Harry. Short, though a little taller then he remembered, a thin, runners build, wild hair an exact copy of his just darker and longer, same facial features, even the same weird curse word.
That was where the similarities ended.
He looked like shit. Scars covering the skin he could see, a large scratch dug across his eyes, ear missing, and- were they bleeding? Then he spotted the bite, large and almost artistic in the way it centered on his throat, like the beast- the hellhound had wanted to mark him as prey.
They both froze for a second, then Dean acted.
He brought down the knife in an arc, aiming for center mass but catching only air as a moment before the monster stumbled backwards.
“Dean! What-”
Dean pushed his advantage, forcing it back, further towards the porch steps.
“Christo.” When the black in his eyes didn’t appear, his target shifted from demon to shapeshifter in his mind.
“I’m not a demon!”
He swung the knife from left to right in a flash, once again a hairs breath from hitting.
Sam’s worried voice came from behind him, “Dean?”
There! It tried to take another step back, catching only air as it tumbled backwards down the short set of steps eliciting a groan of pain.
Dean went to follow but a strong pair of arms held him back, wrapping around his chest from under his armpits.
“Sam! What the hell!”
“Harry?” Came Sam’s awed voice from right above him.
“Hey Sam.”
“The hell er you idjits doin’?” Bobby squeezed around them to get a look at the thing holding their attention before stopping in his tracks.
He tensed and asked, “What is it?”
“Shapeshifter.”
“I’m not a shapeshifter you asshole!”
“Did you test him?” Dad said, strangely calm.
“He avoided the silver knife.”
“You tried to gut me!”
Bobby unwrapped his grip on the silver knife and tossed it at the monster, which promptly caught it like it was second nature.
“Prove your human.”
The monster, with no hesitation, took the blade in his right hand and slit his left palm, edge to edge. Showing off his red blood like a trophy.
“Christo.”
The kid’s vivid green eyes didn’t change.
“Harry?” Dean said, almost not believing what he was seeing. Sam’s grip slowly released him.
The kid- Harry, stood up, wiping his knees like they had imaginary dirt on them.
“Yes.”
Dean bolted down pulled Harry into a bone crushing hug. He felt Harry try to return it.
“Fuck!” He exclaimed as he let go and forced Harry’s face to the side to get a look at his right ear.
“What happened?”
“Car accident. Er- another one.”
Reminding him, he started examining the rest of him, “How the hell are you here?”
“Could I come inside? It would be easier if we were sitting down.”
-----
Sam couldn’t think.
Right next to him, in the center cushion of the couch sat his real, breathing, little brother.
The fact that Dean was man handling him to bandage his hand helped it a bit.
“Dean, let the kid breath.”
Like a good soldier following an order from a superior officer, at his father’s words Dean dropped Harry.
His father looked a bit like Sam felt, bewildered. Though he hid it well.
“Harry, tell us what happened.”
That seemed to stump him for a moment, then that moment turned into a few seconds, then half a minute. Sam half wondered if Harry had forgot what he was being asked.
“I woke up in a grave.”
The room was silent.
“It was next to my parents in Godric’s Hallow. I dug myself out.”
Harry was inexplicably calm.
“It had been four months since I died. I- I don’t know how I… woke up. But I think it’s related to this.”
He slid his leather jacket down, the side with the new, dark leather, and showed a strange mark on his hand, almost like he had shaken hands with the sun, the color of paper. Like bleach.
He looked up at them, face turning to each of them individually for a few moments. The pale scars littering his face stood out to Sam. Just how did it feel to be torn apart?
“I need to know. Did you make a deal?”
Sam’s eyes widened as they darted to Dean.
He- he couldn’t have. Wouldn’t have.
His mind unwillingly went to those months after the car crash. Days had gone by where he hadn’t seen him at all, hours and hours spent in Bobby’s garage alone, repairing the Impala. He could have, couldn’t he?
Dean was silent.
“Dean?” He heard himself say.
“They refused.”
It was suffocating. The silence.
“They wouldn’t deal.”
Dean’s eyes met his stare, his eyes- they were watery. He shifted them to Harry.
“They wouldn’t deal. I didn’t save you.”
“Good.”
“What?” Came Dean’s shocked voice.
“Good!”
Harry was breathing heavy, face twisted in anger, body tensed like he was close to throwing himself at Dean.
“I saved you Dean! I made that choice! That decision! You don’t have any right to take that away from me!”
“You’re a kid! You didn’t know what you were doing!”
“I knew exactly what I was doing! Till the very end and even now, I’d take eternity in Hell over you dying!”
Dean geared up to respond but was cut off by a high-pitched screeching that rapidly rose in pitch and volume.
Sam barely heard Harry yell, “Cover your ears!” before the noise drowned it out.