Viator

It was as Harry and Blaise were setting off for a new hunt the day after they had been visiting Hogsmeade that Harry got a phone call. More specifically, it was a call from Ash.

“You’re workin’ with the Winchester’s right?”

“Uh, sort of, yeah?” Harry replied. “It’s… kinda less formal than you might be thinking though.”

“Ya gotta get to the Roadhouse. I found something big. Can’t talk about it on this line though.”

“You call Dean about it?”

“Just got off the line. See you.”

Relaying the conversation to Blaise, Harry set the kickstand of his bike back down, went to the check-in counter to pay for another week’s stay, went back to Blaise, put a hand on his shoulder, and popped both of them into the back seats of Dean’s Impala.

“Oh, hey Bobby!” Harry called out. “Also, hi Winchester.”

“Jesus, Evans!” Dean yelled out, jolting in his seat ever so slightly. “What’re you doing in my car?”

“Ash called. ‘Parently he found something real big.” Harry replied. “Said he called you as well.”

“Yeah, he did. Why’d he call you?”

“Helped him get some data for his calculations. Want me to pop alla us to the Roadhouse?”

“I swear to God, if you mess up my Baby.”

“Please, I’ve already ‘ported it before.” Harry said, resting his hand against the side of the car, causing the desert vista that was the Roadhouse’s locale to take the place of the flat road.

Getting out of the car, Harry ignored Dean as he checked his car for any possible damage, turning instead to face Booby as they walked up to the establishment’s doors.

“So, what’re you doing out in the field?” Harry asked, hands in his pockets. “Thought you’d retired to researcher.”

“Sam’s missing.”

“Again?” Harry asked. “Damn idjit.”

Turning to face Dean, who seemed to be reassured about his car, Harry yelled out.

“Why didn’t you call again?”

“Family business.”

“Yeah, well, who helped you-“

Harry’s words were cut off, shoved back by the force of the explosion that lit the Roadhouse alight as he was. Grunting in pain as he slammed against the ground, he heard Bobby slam against the ground not far from him. Pulling himself up, he hurried over to Bobby, casting a quick diagnostic charm.

“Well, good news, you won’t die.”

Bobby grunted in response.

“Bad news, you have a broken rib.” Harry continued, quickly waving his wand over his torso and muttering a few words. “Better news, you’re all good now.”

Rushing away from Bobby, he joined Blaise where he was trying to put the fire out. Despite their combined efforts, they failed to put the fire out, forced to watch as the flames destroyed the entire building. Pulling out his phone, Harry dialed Ellen’s number, praying that she hadn’t been in the charred ruins.

“James?”

“Oh thank God.” Harry breathed out. “You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice Ellen. Is Jo with you?”

“Yeah, we just went out on a stock run. What’s wrong?”

“The Roadhouse is gone.”

“What?” She asked, exhaling as she did.

“Ash… he called Dean and I, said he found something. I…” Harry said, voice breaking slightly. “Blaise and I tried to put the fire out, but we couldn’t. It’s all gone.”

“What about…”

“I don’t know if Ash survived. I… I don’t think he did.” Harry responded, making his way into the burned husk of the building, his eyes straying to what used to be the booth where Ash could usually be found sitting.

Wandering over, he kneeled down and moved one of the charred boards aside, seeing the flash of sunlight on a watch face.

“He’s gone.”

“I…” Ellen began, cutting herself off before she said anything else. “Thanks, James.”

Hanging up on Ellen, Harry walked briskly over to Dean, twisted his arm palm-upward, and sliced it open. Wielding his wand, he siphoned blood from the wound, letting Blaise heal him when he had enough. Gently, Harry guided the undulating circle of blood into grooves he cut into the ground, lighting the liquid on fire as it settled in.

“Goddamnit!” He yelled as the flames died down.

“What the hell was that?”

“Sam’s missing, Bobby’s back in the field, obviously I was going to use higher level magic to try and track him. All I got was a fucking name, which means someone is obscuring his location.”

“What name?” Dean asked, voice sharp.

“I dunno, some place called Cold Oak.”

As it turned out, those two words were the magic x that marked the spot because, somehow, Bobby knew exactly where Cold Oak was. They pulled into the town in just enough time to see Sam brawling with a man. In the precious few seconds it took for the contingent of four to process what was happening, and for Dean to call out to his brother, the other man stabbed Sam in the back, twisted the knife, and ran off.

Popping himself and Blaise by Sam’s side, Harry surveyed the wound, rapidly waving his wand, frantic at the sight of abnormal results.

“Darl’?” He asked, the rest of the question unneeded.

“None of them make sense! It’s like… like something is making him die faster!”

“Yeah, I can think of a few bastards that’d do that.” Harry muttered darkly, turning to Dean who had made his way there. “Dean, I need you to trust me.”

“About what?” He asked frantically, holding Sam’s body.

“I can help Sam, but he has to die first.” Harry said, rushing through the explanation. “It’s the only way it’ll work. I’ll tell you everything you want, I just need you to trust me.”

“Like hell I’d-“ Dean began to yell, being cut off by Harry.

“Shit!” Flinging out a hand where his magic had twinged, Harry clenched it into a fist, catching onto Sam’s soul, forming a tether that only he could see. “Darl’!”

In response, Blaise rushed to Sam’s body, separating Dean from it with a few flicks of his wand. Kneeling down, he pulled a potion flask out of his jacket and gently massaged it down his throat.

As Blaise turned his attention to the gaping wound in Sam’s back, Harry gave all of his attention to the metaphysical game of tug of war he was playing with Sam’s soul and the demons trying to pull it down.

“The spinal damage is more than I can fix love.” Blaise called out.

“Poker chip. Whiskey.” Harry grunted out, before muttering to himself. “You broken-soul, sulfur-smelling, swindling, middle-management cucks think you’re gonna win? We’ll fuckin’ see.”

At a yell from Blaise, Harry tugged even harder on Sam’s soul, flinging it back into his body, watching as Blaise used a resuscitation spell on his body.

Sam abruptly sat up, sharply inhaling.

“What the fuck was that?”