“You’ve killed him.”
“WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU DO THAT?!”
Harry screamed as he shoved Gabe in the chest, not even knocking him off his stance. Gabe only stared at Harry with an infuriatingly calm expression, one eyebrow mildly raised.
“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU’VE DONE?!” Harry pushed Gabe again and when that didn’t work, Harry settled for merely hitting him in the chest.
Gabe let Harry hit him twice, as hard as Harry could, before he stepped away and rolled his eyes.
“Oh, sure, you’re trying to sell your soul to a demon, but I’m the bad guy here.” Gabe scoffed at Harry and shifted when Harry began to eye the broomstick he held behind his back. “Don’t even think about it,” Gabe warned him. “The only place you’re going is home.”
“I CAN’T GO HOME WITHOUT SAM!” Harry screamed. It felt as if Harry’s chest ripped then, a jagged tear right down the center of him. Harry sunk to the ground, not caring at all about the pavement digging in his limbs, and clutched at his hear tightly as he tried to hold himself together.
Harry had been right there, right there.
The demon Crowley had his hand out, all Harry had to do was reach out and take it. Harry could have had Sam back and Dean —
Harry felt the tear in his chest deepen when he realized what Gabe had done when he swooped in and snatched Harry from the deal he nearly made. Gabe sentenced Dean to death… six months. Harry had been willing to take it, he would have done it happily.
Harry never wanted Dean to have to face it.
“You’ve killed him,” Harry groaned, unable to so much as move from the curled position he had taken on the ground. How was Harry supposed to stand when everything hurt so badly?
Sam might live, Harry didn’t know for sure because demons lied, but even if he did… they would lose Dean.
Six months. That was what Harry was going to face.
Instead… it was going to be Dean.
“You’ve killed him,” Harry repeated, crying it to the ground. “You’ve killed him. You’ve killed him.”
Harry wasn’t even aware he was saying it anymore. All Harry could picture was Sam’s body replaced with Dean; Sam’s broken heart, Dean’s silent one.
It would be one brother for the other… and they were the two that hadn’t lived apart before.
“Okaaay, Baby Bear, you’re missing the point here.”
Harry felt a hand touching the top of his head and then there was a rush of air, just for a second, and then Harry shivered.
“Harry? Kid?!”
Harry picked his head up and saw that he was suddenly out of the field that Gabe had originally taken him to and was instead on the ground on a gravel road. And staring at Harry, rushing toward him with a decidedly unhappy look on his face was Dean.
“Where the hell have you been?” Dean demanded, reaching down to grab Harry by both shoulders and haul him to his feet. When Harry thought Dean looked angry enough to swing, Harry shoved him away.
“Where have I been? Where HAVE YOU BEEN?” Harry yelled, his voice cracking. “You sold your soul?!”
“Yeah, I fucking did.” Dean was scowling at Harry, his chest heaving. “And you know what? I’m glad I did because what the fuck were you thinking? WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!”
“THAT SAM NEEDS YOU!” Harry screamed right back. “HOW COULD YOU DO THAT? WHAT’S HE GOING TO DO WITHOUT YOU?”
What was Harry going to do without him? Without Sam? Harry didn’t want to be a Winchester without Dean or Sam.
“You’ve got no idea…” Dean yelled, just a scream up at the sky, then he crossed the two steps to get to Harry. Harry lost his breath when Dean grabbed him by the shoulders again and yanked him toward him.
“You’ve got no idea what you almost did.” Dean had Harry locked against him and Harry was grabbing him desperately, trying to hold him tighter than Dean was him.
Six months.
“Six months,” Harry said, an embarrassing whimper of pain. “You gave them six months.”
“And it’s nothing to what they gave me,” Dean told Harry, his voice a quiet growl. “Kid, listen to me, you do not get to sell your soul, do you understand me? No matter what happens to me, no matter what happens to Sam… you will not sell your soul. You do not spend your eternity in Hell.”
Sam…
“Do you —” Harry felt stupid about the tears that were choking him and he tried to squirm out of Dean’s hold so he could wipe his face and clear his throat. Dean had to duck his own head though, which made Harry feel mildly less stupid.
“We should get home,” Dean said gruffly, avoiding eye contact the same way Harry was. “Let’s just… see if any of this shit made a difference, kid.”
Harry nodded and then it clicked in his mind what Dean meant…
They needed to get home to see if it even worked. If… if Sam was alive or not.
“Yeah, let’s go,” Harry agreed. Harry didn’t see Gabe anywhere and Dean didn’t mention him, but if Gabe lost Harry’s broomstick and cloak then Harry would find a wooden stake to kill him with.
The drive home was quiet and strained —
Dean was mad at Harry, Harry was mad at Dean. Harry figured that they both had plenty more to say about what happened.
Harry didn’t want to lose Dean anymore than he wanted to lose Sam. Harry never would have traded one brother for the other, he would have thrown himself in the flames happily.
Six months… it was no time at all.
Harry wouldn’t even have a year with Dean when his contract came to an end. It wasn’t enough time, it wouldn’t have been no matter how long of a contract it was.
Dean had his jaw locked and one hand clenched on the steering wheel while they drove. Harry looked at him from the edge of his vision and thought Dean looked angry, tired, but not scared.
Harry wouldn’t have ever traded Sam’s life for Dean’s… maybe - maybe Dean felt the same way.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said quietly. Dean wouldn’t trade Harry for Sam and Harry… Harry had wanted to be the one with the timer above his head and instead he had only shortened the time that Dean might have had left.
Dean let out a heavy sigh when Harry reached over and grabbed his wrist that rested on his leg.
“It’s fine,” Dean said shortly, clearly not fine at all.
Harry nodded again and fell silent for the rest of the drive. Harry kept a hold of Dean’s wrist and slid his fingers around until he could feel Dean’s pulse beneath his index finger.
It was steady, fast… for six more months.
When the car pulled in their driveway, Harry could feel his heart jumping up into his throat. There were four people on the lawn and one of them stood taller than all the rest. The headlights washed over them and it —
“Sam.” Dean said Sam’s name like a sound of pain and joy. Harry could only swallow and prepare himself to rush to his brother, reassure himself that it was Sam who stood there with a wide smile on his face.
“Kid, wait.” Dean twisted the hold Harry had on him until it was Harry’s wrist being held tightly by Dean. Harry glanced at him, feeling torn between the desire to grab Sam and the need to stay with Dean.
“If Sam asks…” Dean swallowed and his eyes too ticked out to where their brother waited. “We - we just went for a drive, got it?”
“We’re not..?” Harry shook his head, suddenly exhausted and unable to understand his brother. “You’re not telling Sam what happened?”
“No.”
For the first time in his life, Harry could see what he must look like when he was at his most stubborn. It was an irritating look in a mirror and Harry knew it would be pointless to waste time arguing.
And if it were Harry? Would Harry want to know…?
Yes, he would. Harry would want to know that every second counted with his brother.
“Fine,” Harry agreed. It wasn’t that Harry thought Dean was in the right, it was that Harry wanted out of the car and knew Dean would lock the doors until Harry agreed.
Dean turned the key for the car off and Harry flew.
“SAM!”
Quicker than a Firebolt, more instantaneous than a portkey… Harry crossed the lawn, jumped over the lump of something that laid on the ground, and threw himself at Sam.
Sam was standing, his hand was on Harry’s back, Harry could hear his heart beat in his chest and his lungs filling with air.
Harry wished he had been the one to make the deal, but Sam was alive.
“Dude, no more dragons.” That was Sam’s voice, a little amused with a layer of worry beneath it when Harry wouldn’t relent his hold on him.
Dean didn’t make it any better when he joined them long enough to place his hand on the back of Sam’s neck, his thumb casually feeling for a pulse.
“No more dragons,” Dean agreed. “Who the hell is that?”
Harry didn’t let go of Sam, he just shuffled to the side of him with his hand still clenched in the back of Sam’s torn and bloodied shirt. Sam kept his arm around Harry’s shoulders and gave him a worried look that Harry missed.
Because what Harry missed in face of seeing his brother back from the dead was the dead body in the middle of their lawn. Harry had also missed (not cared about) Tonks, Sirius, and Bobby all standing around as well.
Sirius had been the one to fetch Harry from Hogwarts and Bobby had been at their house when Harry left. It was Tonks and the dead man on the lawn that Harry didn’t understand the presence of until Sam explained.
“That,” Sam kicked his boot out, hitting the dead and charred body in the throat, “is the yellow-eyed demon. Tonks killed him.”
Harry’s eyes flew from the dead demon that had killed Sam and Dean’s mum and Sam’s girlfriend to where Tonks stood. Tonks was huddled in Sirius’s side, her hair a very pale shade of pink, and she looked actually pained when she tried to grin at Harry.
“I made a bit of a mess of it,” Tonks said, focusing only on Harry it seemed. “But…” Tonks raised her hand and mimed shooting a gun. “He’s definitely dead.”
The demon was dead, Sam was alive.
Dean had six months.
Harry felt weak suddenly and his knees shook with exhaustion. It felt surreal, standing in his lawn with everyone while he clamped down on saying anything of importance. Harry couldn’t tell Sam what Dean did, Harry couldn’t apologize to Dean again.
It was a blessing of sorts when Sirius spoke up.
“Harry, I’ve got to take Tonks home. Come with me,” Sirius said abruptly. Out of everyone, Sirius seemed the least shaken by the events of the night.
Of the day?
Had a full day not even passed since Harry woke up preparing to tackle a dragon?
“No,” Harry said, flatly refusing to leave either of his brothers.
“It wasn’t much of a question,” Sirius said. Sirius sounded serious, much more than he usually did.
Harry blinked at him balefully from beneath his brother’s arm.
“I’ll stay here,” Harry said firmly.
Everyone looked back and forth as Harry and Sirius argued, probably just as confused by Sirius’s demand as Harry was.
“I’m asking for ten minutes,” Sirius said. “I don’t think that’s much.”
Harry was tired; he had faced a dragon, seen his brother’s dead body. Harry summoned a demon, had been stopped by a God. Harry had lost Sam, would lose Dean.
If Sirius thought that Harry had ten minutes to give him just then, he was wrong.
“If Harry doesn’t want to go—”
“You shut up,” Sirius snapped, speaking over Dean. Dean’s eyebrows flew upward and Sirius scowled darkly. “I owe you a bloody concussion and I’ve got as much of a right to ten minutes of Harry’s time as anyone.”
Dean sighed and Harry felt something squirm inside of him. When Harry looked past Sam to Dean, Dean nodded at him.
“Ten minutes, kid,” Dean said, saying more with his eyes than his words. “Sammy needs a shower anyway, he smells like ass.”
It wasn’t just Sam that Harry didn’t want to leave, but Dean was urging him to go.
What was the worst that would happen in ten minutes? Sam would die again? Dean’s six months would be dropped to sixty minutes?
“I guess you and I can hide the body,” Bobby told Dean, giving him his own scrutinizing look.
“I’ll drag it to the garage and burn it tomorrow,” Dean said, not looking at Bobby at all and instead giving the dead body a filthy look. “I’m beat, man.”
Sirius held a rather impatient hand out to Harry and Harry had to force himself to slowly release Sam.
“I’ll be right back,” Harry swore to him. “Will you - will you wait up?”
Because if Harry returned to find Sam with his eyes closed, he would be sick.
“Yeah, of course.” Sam grinned at Harry and Harry was he one to close his eyes for second when Sam ruffled his hair teasingly. “I need to hear about your crazy day,” he laughed.
It took Harry a moment to realize that Sam meant the dragon and not the demon and God he had just been with.
Harry thought that morning there was a good chance he would die… instead, Sam died and Dean signed a contract that would end his life in six months.
If it wasn’t something out of Harry’s worst nightmares - the ones where he had everything then lost it with a single bang - it might be… no, even in the sickest possible way, it wasn’t funny at all.
Harry let Sirius apparate him to London with Tonks. Tonks still seemed shaken and sick and brushed off Sirius’s offer to take her directly home.
“I need to go talk to Madam Bones tonight,” Tonks said quietly as they stood together outside of Grimmauld Place.
“Or you don’t,” Sirius insisted. “Merlin, Tonks, no need to throw yourself in a fire you didn’t make.”
“If they find out and I didn’t come clean…” Tonks trailed off significantly and Harry wondered what they were talking about.
“Who’s going to tell them?” Sirius asked. “You’re going to throw your job away for nothing. It wasn’t your fault.”
Tonks chewed on her lower lip and her eyes flickered to Harry’s face for a second before she looked back at Sirius and tipped her head in a short nod.
“Maybe I’ll sleep on it,” she said. “I - yeah, I think I’ll just go to mum’s. Thanks, Sirius. Night, Harry.”
Harry raised his hand and his farewell was lost to the sound of Tonks apparating away.
“You, inside,” Sirius said, his hand tight on Harry’s shoulder. Harry didn’t know what Sirius’s problem was, but Harry was nearing his limit on dealing with it.
Harry loved Sirius, but Harry needed to get home. Even the few minutes he had been gone had his chest feeling tight when there had been too much of Sam dead and only a minute with Sam alive.
“What is your problem?” Harry demanded once they were just inside the front door. Harry wasn’t going any further and he wasn’t going to say anything else until Sirius explained himself.
“Where were you tonight?” Sirius asked, crossing his arms and staring at Harry hard.
Harry pulled his cloak on and grabbed his broomstick from his closet. Harry had John Winchester’s journal in his bag and the determined thought in his mind that he could not fail.
A djinn would only give Harry a fantasy, a demon could reverse death for a price.
What was Harry’s soul compared to Sam’s life?
“That’s not your business,” Harry said, a slight quiver giving away the finality to his words.
“Not my…?” Sirius shook his head like he couldn’t comprehend that Harry wouldn’t tell him. “It damn well is if you sold your soul!”
Harry’s breath caught and the denial he had got stuck somewhere on its way out. All he could do was shake his head and wrap his arms around himself.
“Did you?” Sirius gentled his tone and bent down to try and get their faces on the same level. “Harry, please… tell me.”
“I didn’t!” Harry yelled, shaking his head harder until he could feel a tear fly off his cheek. “I was going to! I would have! And Dean - Dean…” Harry’s throat swelled and when it all crashed down on him again, Sirius caught him.
“Dean did?” Sirius asked, holding Harry tight and keeping him together. “You’re sure?”
Harry nodded in Sirius’s chest and pulled him closer when Sirius tried to pull away. Harry wasn’t five, he wasn’t the one who died or the one who sold his soul… Harry just needed his godfather for a minute.
Sirius didn’t try and pull away again. He let Harry hold on to him and when Harry could hear what he was saying, it was the same thing over and over.
“Oh, thank God.”
It wasn’t God that kept Harry from selling his soul, though Sirius wasn’t as far off the mark as he might have thought.
Harry stayed with Sirius in the dirty and dark parlor of Grimmauld Place for much longer than ten minutes. When Harry had a hold on himself, enough of one to be embarrassed about his behavior, the story was easy to spill. Sirius swore he would keep it to himself and Harry had an unfair thought that Sirius might not remember later to tell anyone.
“Oh.” Harry had just finished telling Sirius about how Gabe interrupted him before he could accept Crowley’s deal. Harry raised his hand to touch the side of his head, the scar he associated with every moment of confusion he had.
Harry thought about his girlfriend - Hermione. His neighbor - Bobby Singer. Harry’s professor - Dumbledore. Harry lived in Sioux Falls. The village beside Hogwarts was called Hogsmeade.
And Harry shouldn’t know any of that.
Sirius was sitting down against the wall across from Harry and only tilted his head when Harry tried to puzzle it out.
Gabe.
It had to be.
“I think Gabe fixed my head?” Harry said, half-certain that had to be what happened and half-sure he was asleep. Maybe it was all a horrible dream and Harry would wake up in Hogwarts after having faced the dragon.
There was a fizzle just in front of Harry, a small burst of lights and sparks that looked like glitter. When the sparkles disappeared, there was a cupcake on Harry’s knee. It had pink frosting with green letters on top, reminding Harry of his first ever birthday cake.
‘Ur Wlcm’ was written in an elegant scrawl and Harry thought it meant ‘You’re Welcome’.
“I guess Gabe definitely did,” Harry said, rolling his eyes at the cupcake.
Another cupcake appeared the moment that Harry decided to throw the first one at the wall. The second cupcake had green frosting and a pink drawing on top. Harry couldn’t make sense of what it was meant to be until he turned it and saw it was a smiling face.
“And Gabe is…?” Sirius gave the cupcakes a funny look, clearly as unamused and confused by them as Harry was.
“Trickster God,” Harry said, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “And a giant bag of dicks.”
“Mm. I dunno.” Sirius reached across to grab one of the cupcakes, the one with the smiling face on it. “I like him.”
Sirius would, wouldn’t he?
“I hate him,” Harry said, glaring at the ceiling for all he was worth, hoping Gabe could see that. Fixing Harry’s brain and dropping pastries on Harry’s private conversations weren’t going to earn him any forgiveness.
“He stole my broom,” Harry told Sirius. It was a petty complaint, but as Sirius had been the one to buy the broom. “And my cloak.”
And the instant Sirius’s jaw dropped, showing a disgusting mouthful of frosting and cake, Harry’s broom and invisibility cloak were returned to him.
Harry still hated Gabe.
Sirius offered to let Harry stay at his place, the three bedroom cottage he shared with Lupin. Harry turned him down, though he tried to do it gently.
“I’ll stay sometime,” Harry said. “I can’t now though.”
Sirius seemed understanding enough, except he also mentioned how he had been decorating a bedroom to be Harry’s. It unhelpfully made Harry think of the bedroom from his djinn trip, the one decorated with photos of Harry and the family he never got.
The brothers that Harry had lost and would lose.
Their house was quiet when Harry slipped in with his broom in one hand and his cloak over his shoulder. It sounded like the shower was running on Dean’s side of the house though and so Harry went to find Sam.
Sam wasn’t in his bedroom and that caused Harry a moment of panic until he noticed a light on in his own room.
“Hey.” Sam was sitting at Harry’s desk, carefully stroking Hedwig’s feathers.
“Hey.” Harry felt the tension melt from his shoulders and it made it easier to flop down on his bed. Harry still had his jeans and boots on and Sam grinned as he kicked his shoes to the floor.
“You’re as bad as Dean,” Sam said. “Slobby.”
Harry hadn’t considered it much, not as compared to as many times as his brothers brought it up, but Harry thought his and Dean’s similarities ran a lot deeper than just messiness.
“I’ll put them up later,” Harry said. It was hard to not stare at Sam, to watch his chest move with proof of his life. Harry focused on Hedwig instead. “Er… how - how do you feel?”
“Me?” Sam stretched his neck out and there was a crease between his brows for a second. “I… feel fine. I feel bad though, Dean said that Tonks saved my life and she left before I could say thanks.”
Harry was sure he turned a funny color at that and when Sam looked too curious at Harry’s reaction, Harry cleared his throat.
“Er… I’m sure she was just tired,” Harry said a bit lamely. “What - what exactly happened?”
Dean had been brief and Harry had seen enough blood and injuries on Sam to know that whatever it was, it hadn’t been good. It had been about as terrible as it could be.
Sam’s eyes went unfocused and Harry wondered what all had happened that ended with Sam dead and Dean selling his soul.
“Uh… you know…” Sam trailed off and didn’t seem like he wanted to talk about it.
“Yeah,” Harry nodded his head slowly and settled back against the pillow to watch his brother from the corner of his eyes. “I know.”
There were some things that were so bloody awful that they couldn’t even be talked about.
Harry didn’t mean to, but he must have fallen asleep. It had been quiet and dark in his room when his eyes closed and it was daylight when he woke to the sound of glass shattering. Sam wasn’t in Harry’s room anymore and Harry didn’t look for him before he ran to the living room where it sounded as if a window broke.
“Feathered bastard!” Dean was wide awake and screaming out their very broken front door. The little glass window on the door was what had apparently been broken and Harry saw an eagle flying across their lawn.
Sam was awake, dressed, laughing as he held a thick envelope and watched Dean flip off a bird. Harry grinned at Sam automatically, then felt sick when he saw Dean.
They had already lost one day.
“Next time, leave the door open,” Sam said, grinning broadly at Dean.
“‘Next time leave the door open’,” Dean mimicked him, not seeming amused at all. Dean threw himself in his recliner and Harry drifted closer to Sam, assuming the letter he held was for him.
Sam looked at the envelope and when Harry held a hand out, Sam shook his head with a sudden frown.
“It’s for Dean,” Sam said, catching Dean’s interest immediately. “It’s from MACUSA?”
Dean went stiff in his chair and Harry didn’t know why MACUSA would be writing to Dean. Sam didn’t hand it to Dean, he opened the envelope and began reading whatever the letter was. A slip of paper fell out from it and Harry automatically bent down to pick it up.
“Dean…” Sam sounded strangled and Harry was too confused by the paper he had to take note of Sam’s tone.
It looked like a bank check? One made out to Dean Winchester for a bloody lot of money.
“What is it?” Dean asked, looking from where Harry’s eyes went wide to Sam’s pale face. “Dude? What?”
Sam lowered the paper he read and stared at Dean for a very long time. Harry couldn’t imagine what was happening, but he doubted it was anything good.
“MACUSA is sorry for your loss and has sent you my life insurance benefits,” Sam said slowly and without emotion. “According to them, I died yesterday.”
Oh.
Oh.
“Oh.” Dean shared Harry’s exact thought and if Harry could read guilt on Dean’s face, then Sam definitely could.
“Is it a lot?” Dean asked with a sudden smile. “Because here’s what I’m thinking… Vegas.”
It was a lot, actually. It was nothing when compared to the value of Sam’s life or Dean’s soul.
And judging from the look on Sam’s face, Harry didn’t think that Dean would get to spend it at Vegas.