“What did you wish for?”
July 21st
Harry darted in the rest stop loo and checked under all the stalls before taking one and slipping his mirror out of his backpack.
Harry’s eyes were too bright, his cheeks flushed, but hellhounds?! That was brilliant!
Hellhounds weren’t people, they were just… Harry didn’t actually know what they were, really, but Fluffy had to have been some sort of hound from hell. And maybe Sirius would know more about them, something Harry could use to help his brothers.
Then, when Harry was safely back at Hogwarts far away from any consequences of his actions, Harry could tell Sam and Dean that a wizard helped them kill hellhounds.
Sirius answered after only a few seconds and the first thing he did was yelp.
“What happened to your face?” Sirius demanded, reminding Harry of the black eye he had.
“Er… fell,” Harry said lamely, reusing an old excuse and pushing past it quickly. He didn’t have long, they were on their way to question a man who Sam thought started the hellhound attack.
Sam was actually rather brilliant. They had only been on the case for two days before Sam connected the three ‘victims’ to a single pub. When they went to check out the pub, Dean discovered it sat on a crossroads where the grass was all dead around one spot.
Which, okay, that was rather brilliant too, Harry supposed.
When they dug it up, there had been plants and bones inside a metal box. Sam said it was used to summon a crossroads demon.
An actual honest to God, demon.
The demon seemed to be collecting the lives of the people who made deals with it, so Sam wanted to find the original bloke to summon it to try and figure out who else needed protecting.
It was brilliant and didn’t involve anyone shooting anyone and Harry was having an excellent time. Sure, Sam and Dean were snapping at each other and they went to a ‘crime scene’ that made Harry vomit with all the blood and the destroyed body, but overall it was interesting at least.
Harry filled Sirius in quickly then crossed his fingers out of view when he asked if Sirius knew a muggle method to kill a hellhound.
“Why do you need to kill it?” Sirius asked, scrunching his face up. “I mean… just play music and put it to sleep?”
Harry mentally whooped, thrilled that Sirius confirmed what Harry had been hoping. Fluffy was easy to avoid with music, clearly hellhounds would be more of the same.
“Thanks, Sirius,” Harry said, beaming. “We’re off to interview another bloke, I’ll talk to you later.”
Sirius looked bemused when Harry disconnected abruptly, but Harry was busy skipping back outside to care much.
Back outside where Sam and Dean were sniping at each other again. It was like last winter with Ron and Hermione all over again, except his brothers were arguing over demon deals instead of a rat.
“A standard deal offers ten years,” Sam was saying, reading from their dad’s journal. “It doesn’t make sense…”
“It does in this case,” Dean said, stressing his words hard. “The lawyer, architect, and doctor all asked for their careers ten years ago, Sam.”
“I’m not talking about them,” Sam snapped.
“Well you should be since you wanted to work the case so bad.”
“Er…” Harry walked up and looked between them uneasily. Something about demon deals had them both in rubbish moods, but Harry didn’t know what it was because they didn’t talk about it.
Which was annoying, really. Harry could finally see what Hermione meant when she said it was better to talk things out. Harry didn’t want to do it, but he’d like it if Sam and Dean did so Harry could at least understand why they were upset.
“Ready?” Dean asked, already opening the car door. “We should be there soon.”
“Alright.” Harry slid in the car after Sam did and sat behind Dean while his brothers began arguing some more.
“If Dad made a deal, why didn’t he get ten years?” Sam asked. Sam held his hand over the volume control for the radio, forcing Dean to either sit in silence or answer him.
Harry’s eyebrows shot upward on his face. Their dad made a demon deal? The same bloke that hated all things unnatural? That was interesting.
“We don’t know that he did,” Dean said tersely, clearly wanting Sam to drop it. “For all we know, it was a heart attack.”
“And the Colt just disappeared in thin air?” Sam sounded skeptical. “C’mon, Dean. There’s no way that Dad didn’t make a deal with Azazel. I just don’t get why he didn’t get ten years.”
“I DON’T KNOW!” Dean whipped his hand out and pinched the back of Sam’s hand hard, forcing him to let go of the radio. “Just shut up about it, Sam. Jesus.”
Sam looked hurt when Dean cranked the radio as loud as it would go, blaring the rock music he liked. Harry settled back in his seat, using the book about creatures from Bobby to cover his face, just thinking.
So their dad made some sort of a deal with a demon, the demon that killed Sam and Dean’s mum and Sam’s girlfriend. But he didn’t get ten years and Sam didn’t understand why. Dean didn’t want to even talk about it, which was a shame because Harry understood basically nothing.
Except… Harry turned his attention back to his book… Harry understood that he was going to get top marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Care of Magical Creatures that year. Hermione really didn’t know what was coming.
It only took another hour of driving before they got to a rather rundown looking apartment building. Dean parked the car and laughed when they all climbed out to look at where the original bloke who made a deal with the demon lived.
“He better have like fifty virgins in there,” Dean said. He stuffed his hands in his jacket pocket and smirked when Sam rolled his eyes. “What? At least the others wound up rich.”
“Rich and dead,” Harry reminded him. Harry wasn’t likely to forget how the woman doctor looked, her body all shredded from hellhound claws.
“Rich and dead is still rich,” Dean countered. They followed Sam’s lead up to the door of the building, debating the issue the whole time. “Ten really good years? I dunno, might be worth it.”
“Worth being ripped apart by dogs?” Harry asked, scandalized. “Ten years is nothing. Who cares about money?”
“Especially if you get a one way ticket to hell in the demon’s pocket,” Sam added.
“Wait, is hell real?” Harry asked, pleased that he kept up just fine when his brothers stormed up the stairs of the building.
Maybe running was good for something after all.
“Where do you think demons come from?” Dean asked. “You make a deal with a demon and you get ten good years followed by an eternity of torture and pain.”
“So is Heaven real too?” Harry asked, thinking of the programs Aunt Petunia used to watch. Harry didn’t think his aunt was religious, she just liked hearing the one bloke yell about sinners going to hell while she sent Harry pointed looks as he did his chores.
“Who knows?” Sam shrugged. They turned off the stairs on the third floor and it looked just as rundown and battered as the rest of the building.
Whatever the bloke asked for, it clearly wasn’t money.
Harry was told, again, to keep quiet and be ready to run when Dean beat his fist on the door of the man they were looking for. Since Dean said that every time they did anything, Harry mostly ignored him and thought about demon deals.
Was there anything Harry wanted badly enough to trade a whole life for, plus what sounded like an eternity of torture? Harry had money, he didn’t need promises of a great career… It would be great if a demon could make it so Harry never killed all those people, but that would be changing the past, not the future. Maybe a few months ago he would have considered it if it meant he could have a family, but Harry had one.
And ten years with a family would only make it that much worse when the time was up.
No, Harry didn’t think he’d ever wanted anything so badly that he would make a deal with a demon. Which made the fact that John Winchester did it that much more curious.
When the man they were looking for opened his door, Sam stuck his foot in it to keep him from slamming the door shut in their faces.
“We know about your dream and we’re here to help you,” Sam said in a rush.
The man didn’t seem to want their help. He scowled fiercely at them and tried to shove Sam away so he could close his door.
“I don’t need your damn help,” he grunted, giving up on moving Sam pretty quickly. All he did was lift a hand to shove Sam away and Dean made a quiet noise in the back of his throat, changing the man’s mind immediately.
“If you don’t let us help you, you’ll die, and soon,” Sam said earnestly. “Please? We just want to help.”
“I know what’s comin’ for me.” The man had a gruff voice of resignation and Harry wondered if he had asked for something really important, more than just a fancy career like the others did.
“And you’re cool with being puppy chow?” Dean asked him, lifting a brow. “Because if you don’t let us help you, that’s what’s coming. It’s not some glorious ascent in the light, it’s hellhounds.”
“Boy, you think I don’t know that?” The man glared at Dean. “They’ll come for me like they did Sherry, Marcus, and Nate. I’m not stupid. She was real clear on the risks.”
“So not stupid, but arrogant,” Dean said. “You think you can fight ‘em off?”
Harry didn’t think the man thought that at all.
“You’re ready to die,” Harry guessed shrewdly, seeing he was right when the man looked at him. There was just resignation in his eyes, so strong that Harry couldn’t help his next question. “What did you wish for?”
“‘Wish for’?” The man made an angry noise, one that Harry wasn’t bothered by, not with the way the man suddenly looked more tired than Harry had ever seen anyone look.
“I traded my soul for my music.” The man backed away from his apartment door, a silent invitation that the three brothers took.
Harry looked around the living room they entered with interest. There was a golden instrument gleaming on the table and posters covering the wall. The man in the posters, being praised for his jazz music, had to be the man when he was younger.
“You traded your soul to be good at jazz?” Dean asked disbelievingly, coming to the same conclusion Harry did. “And you still live in this shit hole?”
“I traded my soul to be the very best.” The man ran his hands on the golden instrument reverently. “I asked that demon to make me the best saxophone player in the world. I figured ten years on top were better than none. But she kissed me, sealed the deal, then screwed me.”
Ew.
Harry wasn’t naive, he knew people had sex, but with an actual demon? That was disgusting. Demons were just evil souls in stolen human bodies, it was sick.
“Ahem.” Sam cleared his throat and looked down at Harry when the man glanced at him.
“I didn’t sleep with her, Jesus.” The man sank down in a chair by his table, keeping one hand on his instrument. “She screwed me on my deal. I was best damn player in the country, but it didn’t matter, did it? I played until I was blue in the face and I never got a record, never got signed by any labels. It was just me and my sax, for ten years.”
That was a dumb wish then.
“So you knew it was a demon you made the deal with?” Dean asked, sounding as unimpressed as Harry was.
“The black eyes were a little hard to miss,” the man drawled.
“Do you know who else she made deals with?” Sam asked. “You mentioned some of the others, was that it?”
“Nah, there were five of us.” The man took a deep breath and started counting them off with his fingers. “Me, Sherry, Marcus, Nate… who was that other man? Nice guy… oh!” The man snapped his fingers and sagged further in his seat. “Alex Couters. Good man. If you boys want to help anyone get out of their deal, it should be Alex.”
Sam tried arguing against it, but they were rather pointedly told to leave not much longer. Harry gave his brothers incredulous looks when they did just that, Sam guiding Harry by the shoulder.
“We can’t leave him!” Harry cried when they were in the hallway once again. “Those hellhounds will kill him.”
“Yeah, they will.” Dean sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “We can’t help him if he don’t want it, kid. We’ll just see if this Alex wants our help.”
Bollocks to that.
Harry ducked out of Sam’s grip and threw the man’s door open before either of his brothers could stop him. Then man hadn’t moved at all, except to light a cigarette he held in his fingers.
“When they come, play music for them,” Harry told him seriously. “Then when they’re asleep, run.”
The man held Harry’s eyes for a moment before he smiled sadly, a shadow of the young and handsome photos of himself on the walls.
“I’ll do that,” he said.
Harry nodded and then pulled the door shut, relieved to have given the man at least something of a weapon to use.
Even if it did get Harry in a tight spot with his brothers.
“Music, huh?” Dean asked casually once they were in the car, headed to go find the other bloke that made a deal. “What makes you think that’ll do anything to hellhounds?”
“Er… I read it,” Harry lied confidently, thinking of the hundreds of books Bobby owned. There was no way—
“I’ve read every book in Bobby’s library and never heard of using music to distract a hellhound,” Sam said, bursting Harry’s lie immediately. “What book was it?”
“I don’t remember,” Harry said, suddenly vague. “What happens if we get to this other bloke’s house and he doesn’t want help either?” he asked quickly.
Sam looked suspicious, but Dean let the topic change without any fuss.
“Then we stick around for a day or two, make sure nobody else is on a demonic hit list, then it’s sweet home California for us,” Dean said. “Hey, Sammy, why don’t you message some of your college buddies? Tell ‘em you’ll be back in town soon?”
“What happened to it was better if I cut off contact?” Sam asked. “And, for that matter, they all think you’re a dead serial killer, Dean.”
“Why do they think that?” Harry asked, already beginning to grin at what he was sure would be a ridiculous story.
It was.
Apparently Sam and Dean went to help one of Sam’s mates from college when her brother was attested for a murder he swore he didn’t commit. Harry’s brothers discovered it was a ‘shifter’, a creature that could take on the appearance of anyone it pleased, just in time for it to impersonate Dean and go on a killing spree.
“We killed it when it was still hiding behind my handsome face,” Dean said, sounding much more smug than Harry thought he should. “I’ve got a headstone somewhere.”
“But now everyone thinks you’re a murderer?” Harry pointed out, thinking of Sirius. “How are you going to get a job or - or do anything?”
“That’s future Dean’s problem,” Dean said calmly. “This Dean just needs to finish this case and then worry about nothing at all for a while.”
Harry couldn’t fault the logic, even if the similarities between Dean and Sirius grew with his evasive response.
Sam found the address of the man they wanted. Or, more accurately, Bobby did when Sam called him with the name.
“Bobby wants to know if we’re coming back after this case,” Sam said after he hung up.
“I told him we got other places to be,” Dean said.
“Why are you so hell bent on California?” Sam asked. “I can get my transcripts emailed, dude.”
Harry laid his head on the window, preparing himself for another argument between his brothers. They didn’t seem bothered by it, but it was driving Harry mad. Did all brothers fight so much?
Probably not. Ron didn’t fight with his brothers every single day.
“So? Maybe I just want to go do something normal,” Dean said. “Did you ever think of that?”
“Maybe I don’t want to go back to Stanford, did you ever think of that?” Sam asked tightly. “Did you think maybe I don’t want to see my friends, the ones I only met because they were Jess’s friends first? Maybe I don’t want to drive past our house, go on the campus where we met. Did you think of that?”
Clearly not, based on the way that Dean immediately went silent.
Harry didn’t think of that either, really. He knew Sam seemed more interested in hunting than going to California, but he didn’t think of why that might be.
“Sammy…” Dean finally said, his voice low and pained.
“Forget it,” Sam said abruptly. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s just finish this case.”
Harry thought Dean might push the issue, but he didn’t. They spent the rest of the car ride with only music playing, Sam occasionally giving directions, and a heavy feeling of tension weighing on them all.
Hermione was right, people really should talk things out on occasion.
Alex Couters lived in a nice house, much nicer than the last one they’d been at.
He also opened his door with a shotgun in his hands, causing Dean to shove Harry behind him immediately.
“Easy,” Dean said immediately, shifting to keep his body between the gun and Harry.
Harry didn’t even think Dean liked him.
“Shit. Sorry.” Alex lowered the gun, though neither Dean nor Sam relaxed. Alex was another normal looking bloke, not someone Harry would think would go around making deals with demons.
“You got salt in there?” Dean asked. “‘Cause I gotta tell you, man, I don’t think the standard shit’s gonna work on hellhounds.”
“Who are you?” Alex demanded, raising the gun again.
Honestly, muggles were obsessed with guns. Or maybe it was an American thing?
“People who want to help,” Sam said earnestly. “May we come in?”
It had to be Sam’s genuine honesty that made Alex lower his gun again and let them inside. He looked suspicious, but much less so when he saw Harry in the light of his foyer.
“How’d you know about my deal?” Alex asked, his eyes flickering to the door while he spoke.
“Doesn’t matter, I don’t think we have time to hash it out,” Dean said curtly. “It expires today, right?”
Alex swallowed and looked at his watch.
“Two hours,” he said.
Harry sort of listened to his brothers interrogate the man, but mostly he looked at a photo hanging up right in the center of the foyer, beside the staircase.
It was the man, a woman Harry assumed was his wife, and two kids. They were all posing outside with nice clothes on and bright smiles. They looked happy.
“What did you wish for?” Harry asked idly, looking at the kids in the photo. The girl looked around Harry’s age, the boy only a couple of years older.
The silence from the three adults caught Harry’s attention and he turned to look at them before looking back at the photo and ducking his head.
“It’s just… you’ve got kids,” Harry said, a little reproachfully. It wasn’t just Alex’s life that would end when his ten years ran out, his kids would be devastated.
Probably.
Unless he was a rather shitty parent.
Alex looked past Harry to the picture he’d been looking at and his eyes went soft and sad.
“Julia, my little girl,” Alex said quietly. “I sold my soul the day the doctor’s said she wouldn’t survive the week.”
Oh. That sort of changed things. Alex didn’t ask for money, a big career, or musical talent. All he wanted was his daughter to live.
That was the sort of thing that made Harry think he would sell his soul as well. Not that Harry had kids, but if someone he loved was dying… yeah, maybe.
Sam and Dean clearly felt the same way Harry did, that Alex shouldn’t die and go to hell because he loved his kid. Dean offered to go summon the demon, try and get Alex’s deal destroyed while Sam offered to stay with Alex to try and keep the hellhounds away in case it took Dean longer than two hours to end the deal.
Then they both looked at Harry who only stared back at them.
“You’re summoning a demon, he can stay with me,” Sam said to Dean.
“Dude, we know hellhounds will be here soon,” Dean argued. “As long as he stays out of the devil’s trap, he’s safer with me.”
“I’ll stay with Sam,” Harry offered quickly, wanting to be useful.
“Dean’s right,” Sam shook his head at Harry. “Go with him, I’ll see you guys soon.”
Harry didn’t like it, but he wasn’t exactly being given an option. If his brothers were going to misunderstand how old he was, it would be nice if they had mistaken his age for sixteen or something where he would be taken more seriously.
Dean didn’t seem worried for Sam, he just led him outside and opened the boot of the car. Harry peeked past his brothers and saw an impressive assortment of weapons inside. A few of them that Harry could even identify, thanks to Sam’s training.
“Stay safe,” Dean said, clapping him on the shoulder after Sam grabbed a gun and a black bag that Harry thought held the ammunition.
“You too,” Sam said.
“And don’t forget the music thing,” Harry added seriously. He scowled when Sam’s lips twitched in amusement. “It’s a real thing,” he hissed.
“Alright, alright,” Sam conceded, still too amused for Harry. “If I can’t land a shot, I’ll start singing.”
“They’ll definitely eat you then,” Dean laughed.
Every time Harry thought he understood his brothers, they confused him again. They had been fighting nonstop, then when their case actually became stressful, they start laughing and making jokes.
“Are you not worried about Sam?” Harry asked Dean when the two of them got back in the car. Harry sat up front since Sam was gone and was practically being held back in his seat by the sheer speed that Dean drove.
“Sam? No,” Dean said. “The hounds aren’t after him. They’ll kill him if they have to, but Sam’s smart enough to know when it’s a lost cause.”
“When is it a lost cause?” Harry asked, thinking of those happy kids in the picture.
“When the heart stops beating,” Dean said grimly. “If we do our job right, it won’t come to that. And, while we’re on the subject, guess what your job is?”
“Stay quiet and prepared to run?” Harry guessed bitterly.
“Bingo.”
Harry was never going to be able to show how useful he was if he kept getting pushed to the sidelines. If he could just help one time, help save one life, then… then maybe his brothers wouldn’t hate him when they found out what he was.
Alex Couters was down to less than thirty minutes when Dean peeled in the parking lot where the demon was originally summoned, sending gravel flying. Dean yanked open the compartment in front of Harry’s knees and placed a silver phone in his lap.
“If anything happens to me, take this phone in the bar and call Bobby, got it?” Dean asked.
Harry’s throat went dry suddenly, just then realizing the risk Dean was taking. He was going to summon an actual demon.
“I…”
“Say it back to me,” Dean said. “‘I will haul ass in the bar and call Bobby’. Now, Harry.”
“Yes, fine,” Harry said, somewhat shakily. “I’ll, er, haul arse in the pub and call Bobby.”
Dean snorted and bent down to grin at Harry after he got out of the car.
“You’re so British,” he said, not unkindly. “Wait here. If it’s not to go inside and call Bobby, don’t leave this car.”
Harry nodded and barely managed to make his mind work before Dean closed the door.
“Be careful,” Harry said.
Dean paused just for a second before he nodded and took off with the car door slamming shut behind him. Harry tried to follow him through the night, but as soon as Dean crossed the street, he was out of Harry’s sight.
Harry cracked his window enough so he could at least hear if Dean screamed or something terrible happened and then he waited… Harry watched the clock, waited, and realized exactly how much danger his brothers put themselves in to protect other people…
They were both Gryffindors, for sure. For the first time in Harry’s life though, he didn’t mean it as a compliment.
Every muscle in Harry’s body was taut while he listened to the wind carrying him snatches of Latin that Dean chanted to try and summon the demon…
“Daemon, esto subjecto voluntati meae…”
Harry wondered what hellhounds looked like and could only imagine one headed versions of Fluffy… attacking Sam…
“Well, well, well… Dean Winchester.”
Both of Harry’s brothers could be dead… ripped apart by hellhounds… destroyed by a demon… in the next twenty minutes.
And Harry was sitting in the car like a child.
Harry turned in his seat, scrambling for his wand out of his bag, then climbed out of the car as quietly as he could. Harry listened hard to Dean talking to the demon (who sounded like a woman) as he went around back and very quietly opened the boot.
Harry didn’t have as good of aim as his brothers, and his spellwork was average for a soon-to-be fourth year, but between the small pistol he grabbed that was loaded and his wand, he felt mildly less useless.
The conversation was louder with Harry outside the car, so he leaned against the side of the car with the gun in one hand and is wand clenched in the other.
“Awe, following in Daddy’s footsteps? Making a deal of your own?”
“I’m offering you a deal, actually. Destroy Alex Couters’s contract and I don’t send your ass back down to hell, bitch.”
Dean was sassy, Harry tried to remember the very high stakes and not grin about it.
“Mmm, counter-offer, how about I rip the throat from your body instead?”
“Yeah? Come and get it.”
There was a rustling sound then a snarl from the woman that the demon must have been possessing.
“You and your Devil’s Traps. It’s real cute, Dean. Too bad it won’t save Alex though. My hounds should be collecting his soul for me right now.”
Harry could feel himself going pale at the thought of the demon’s dogs attacking Alex while Sam was there…
Please let him be okay, please be okay…
“Yeah? Fine, guess I got no use for you then. Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio…”
“I’m surprised at you, Dean! I really thought you’d want to know more about dear old Dad. I heard about him, you know?”
Dean’s chant slowed down enough for the demon to try and distract him, probably to buy herself time…
“You know what they say about cops who go to jail, right? That’s nothing to what demons do when a hunter of John’s prolific reputation joins us. Ooh, go ahead, send me down there. I’ll be sure to tell him you say hello before I claw my way back to kill Alex myself.”
Harry was wincing and chewing his cheek until he thought he tasted blood. Was John being tortured? Why was he even in hell? Did he really make a deal?
The demon made it sound like he did, but Harry figured demons were probably almost as trustworthy as Draco Malfoy.
Dean didn’t sound concerned, or he did a good job at hiding it. His voice carried back to Harry, cool and disinterested.
“Cool story, bitch. Where was I? Oh, omnis incursio…”
Harry’s heart was thumping hard in his chest and sweat broke out on his brow while Dean made his way through his chant.
How did Sam and Dean live their entire lives like they did? The adrenaline never bothered Harry when he was the one doing things like going after Quirrell or fighting a basilisk, but it was agony knowing that it was his brothers who were risking their lives.
Maybe not Dean as much, Bobby said that almost no demon could escape a devil’s trap (which Harry thought was just a rune, something he wanted to ask Hermione about when he was back at Hogwarts). But if Dean didn’t get rid of the deal Alex made, then Sam could get hurt trying to protect Alex.
“STOP! STOP! the demon shrieked suddenly after the air became thick with the smell of something rotten. “You want Alex’s contract destroyed? Done.”
How did he—
“How do I know you’re not lying?”
“I’m a crossroads demon, Dean. If I don’t have my word, I have nothing.”
“Then you won’t mind if I make a quick call.”
Harry waited anxiously while he assumed Dean was calling Sam. Sam had to pick up, he had to be okay, he couldn’t be —
blood and screaming, fire and ash in Harry’s mouth.
— dead, he just couldn’t.
“Sammy?”
Dean’s voice was so filled with relief that Harry took his first real breath. Sam was fine, Dean was fine.
Dean asked about the hellhounds and chuckled at whatever Sam said.
“Yeah, I’ll tell him,” Dean said. “See you soon.”
It didn’t take much longer for Dean to finish with the demon. She taunted Dean about John being in hell, she said it was Dean’s fault, she said Dean hated himself for living while John was dead.
It was cruel and made Harry shake with anger, wishing he had asked Sirius for a curse to use against demons. Even if it would get Harry in trouble, he would use it if he knew one.
Dean sounded calm when he resumed his chanting and he caused the night to explode in black smoke and the rotten smell from before. When he became visible to Harry though, his shoulders were no longer squared with determination, but slumped.
Harry didn’t have time to get back in the car or return the gun he held when Dean strode through the smoke back to him. Harry did think to stuff his wand in the back of his jeans just before Dean spotted him waiting for him.
“Dude…” Dean looked resigned when Harry only raised his chin challengingly, refusing to apologize for wanting to do anything.
“You can’t shoot a demon with a Glock,” was all Dean said though. When he walked around the car and silently got in the driver’s seat, Harry scrambled to join him.
Dean won; he defeated the demon, saved the bloke who had made a deal for his daughter. Thanks to Dean, that family wouldn’t be destroyed.
Harry had never seen a person look as defeated as Dean did. Dean dropped his head to the steering wheel and even though his breathing was quiet, Harry could hear it shaking.
“Is this another time where I pretend I didn’t hear anything?” Harry asked him tentatively. Harry wanted to reach over, touch his shoulder or something, but he didn’t think Dean would much appreciate it.
“Pretend whatever you want, just do it silently,” Dean said, his voice choked with emotion.
Harry did stay silent, but he also reached out and slowly put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean didn’t shake him off and they sat there like that for a long time. Harry thought about what the demon said, what he had picked up on from his brothers.
Maybe… Maybe John had made a deal like Alex did. Maybe he traded his life for Dean’s. It would be the first nice thing about John Winchester that Harry heard if it was true.
“My mum died for me,” Harry whispered, finding the words easily enough in the dark silence that filled the car. Harry couldn’t hold everyone to the standard that was Lily Potter, but she screamed ‘NOT HARRY!’ in his dreams and saved him even when she knew it meant she would die. “And Alex was going to die for his daughter. I think- I think if it helps any, that’s probably just what people do when they have the choice.”
Harry would give anything to have his mum, but he doubted that she was in heaven (because if heaven and hell were real, Harry just knew that heaven was where his parents were) thinking she made the wrong choice. If the roles were reversed, if Harry could have offered his life for someone he loved, he would do it.
That was a noble death, one that Harry would make for Ron, Hermione, Sirius, or- or his brothers.
It was what Harry thought family would do.
“You would do it for Sam,” Harry said, sure he was right. Even though they argued over half the time they were together, Harry didn’t doubt that they loved each other fiercely.
It made him sort of sad, really. They would never like Harry as much as they did each other. They had too much shared history, too many memories and inside jokes.
Dean took a deep breath and then tilted his head back, resting it on the back of his chair. His eyelashes were wet, but there weren’t any tears on his face.
“And you,” Dean said without opening his eyes.
“What?”
Dean opened his right eye and fixed it on Harry’s.
“Sam and you,” Dean clarified. He cleared his throat. “I’d die for either of you.”
Harry abruptly dropped his hand, a hard wave knocking the air from his body. Dean would… he’d die for him?
“You don’t know me,” Harry said bleakly, hating that it was true. If he did… Dean would change his mind. Not about Sam, Harry thought that Dean would die for Sam without hesitation. But Harry?
Harry was a wizard, a freak, evil in Dean’s book.
“Doesn’t matter.” Dean rubbed his eyes with one hand while his other hand turned the car on. “You’re my family, and, like you said, that’s what I’d do if I had the choice.”
Harry bit his lip hold back the truth he wanted to scream —
“I’M A WIZARD! IT’S MY FAULT THOSE PEOPLE ARE DEAD!”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
It was only quiet for a moment and then Dean suddenly chuckled as he drove the car back to the highway to get to Sam.
“Hey, by the way, whatever book told you to sing to hellhounds was crap,” Dean said so casually that Harry recognized it as a sign to change the subject. “Sam said he nearly lost his leg while singing to one of those hounds.”
Yeah, that figured.
Harry really needed to stop getting advice from Sirius.