“Wow. Wow.”
October 31
“Please, please, don’t leave me here with him,” Harry begged. “Can we play rock, paper, scissors? If I win I go with you?”
“Nope.”
“I’ll do the dishes for a week?”
“Not a chance.”
“I’ll wash your laundry for a month.”
Dean paused, his fingers toying with the silver bullet he had been loading in his gun. Dean looked thoughtful, Harry tried to look pleading, he even stuck his lower lip out like a child.
“You mad at Sam?” Dean asked as he slowly loaded the bullet in the clip with careful precision.
“What? No,” Harry said truthfully. Sam had hurt Harry when he wouldn’t stop fighting with Sirius for Harry, but Harry wasn’t angry about that anymore. It wasn’t truly personal, Harry wanting to go with Dean, it was just that Sam and Madison quite obviously didn’t want Harry left with them and it was uncomfortable.
Since they met Madison the day before, she had become the center of ‘Sam’s investigation’. It made sense - the first person who had died had been Madison’s boss. The second person had been found smack between her house and her workplace. A third person had been killed the night before, one of Madison’s neighbors.
Sam thought it was Madison’s ex-boyfriend, some bloke that Dean planned to track down while Sam kept a watch on Madison. Harry was still skeptical about what they were hunting, but he knew that he would rather go with Dean than stay with Sam and Madison.
Even facing a fully grown werewolf again would be preferable to watching his brother be flirted with.
Dean nodded, taking Harry at his word. Harry waited for him to make up his mind and Dean eventually answered him as he slammed the clip in place on his pistol.
“You swear to follow orders?” Dean asked, staring Harry down and watching closely for any sign of deceit. “Werewolves aren’t something to screw around with, kid. You’re not getting bitten on my watch.”
“I swear,” Harry said quickly. It wasn’t dark yet, but it would be soon. Dean wanted to track down the ex-boyfriend before the moon was fully risen in the sky and even if Harry didn’t know that it was a werewolf they were tracking, it was a full moon night.
“Fine.” Dean tucked his gun in his waistband and Harry could have cried when Dean reached in the boot of the Impala and pulled out Harry’s invisibility cloak. “Don’t make me regret this,” he warned as he handed it to Harry. “You want a gun or can you use your wand?”
Harry hesitated and some of his glee over having his cloak back in his hands diminished. As much as Harry didn’t enjoy the idea of using a gun… his wand was a bit useless to him.
It had survived the crash, thankfully. Harry had been disappointed to discover his clothes had been completely destroyed, even Sirius hadn’t been able to repair Harry’s favorite shirt fully. Harry’s wand had been bloodied, but without even a crack in the wood.
And as soon as Harry tried to use it, he realized that he had a major problem.
At first it had been his memory. Harry couldn’t remember any spells to use and that had worried him. As his memory returned, just as he had been told it would, so did the list of spells he knew. But, like names, there was something wrong with Harry’s ability to name a spell.
Harry knew in his mind that if he held his wand and said ‘lumos’ that his wand would produce a light. Harry knew that, he remembered doing it multiple times in the past. Lumos would light his wand, Nox would extinguish it. Harry just… couldn’t say it.
If the words were written down on a sheet of paper in front of him, Harry could read them off. But when Harry needed a spell that he wasn’t actively reading from his own notes, it wouldn’t come.
Which meant unless a werewolf was considerate enough to let Harry dig out his list of spells and reactions from his pocket, his wand was useless.
“Gun,” Harry said flatly, looking away when his decision set off ‘a look’ from Dean. Dean and Sam were painfully aware that Harry wasn’t exactly singing their names, couldn’t even get his mouth to form the sounds unless he heard one of them use the name just before he said it, but Harry had kept quiet about his spellwork. It wasn’t that Harry thought they wouldn’t be as concerned by it as Harry was, it was just that none of them could fix it, so why bother?
Dean said nothing as he loaded another small gun with silver bullets and slid the safety on before passing it to Harry. Harry was grateful for the quiet, it was a bad enough day without comments about his messed up brain.
Harry had tried to call for Sirius that morning, just wanting to say hello and see if he was handling the day alright. Sam had written down Sirius’s name on a scrap of parchment for Harry to tape to the backside of the mirror, so Harry could call Sirius without assistance.
Sirius didn’t answer. He hadn’t answered since he left Sioux Falls. It hurt Harry as much as it pissed him off. Sirius hadn’t really started most of the fights between him and Sam, but Harry thought that Sirius had intentionally picked on Sam some. What did Sirius expect Harry to do? Suggest Sam be the one to leave their home?
Harry told himself that Sirius would answer that morning, he had to - it was Halloween. But when he didn’t, the mirror had shaken in Harry’s hands with the force of how much he wanted to break it. It was petty of Sirius to ignore him, worse to do it on Halloween, Harry thought.
It should have been a Sirius-issue, but it was quickly becoming a Harry-issue as well.
Harry couldn’t worry about Sirius though as he followed Dean inside Madison’s house to tell Sam they were leaving. Madison had given Dean a description of her ex-boyfriend and Sam had found his address and car description online for them to use. Harry tried to tell his brothers that if the bloke was a werewolf, a picture of him wouldn’t help find him once he was turned.
Truthfully, Harry was beginning to think they were talking about two entirely different types of werewolves. It would have been a good question for Professor Lupin… if Sirius would answer.
Sam was absolutely guarding Madison inside her house… as he lounged on her couch and smiled goofily at her. Harry shook his head in mild exasperation. Why would Sam not date the auror but would make starry eyes at the boring muggle girl?
It wasn’t just that she was a muggle, Sam was mostly muggle, it was that Sam would have much more in common with an auror than a law assistant. And Harry privately thought the auror (whose name he was sure he would remember as soon as someone said it) was prettier too.
“Oh, Samantha,” Dean sang the name with a teasing grin once he and Harry made their way inside. “Change of plans, baby bro, I’m taking Harry and you’re on babe watch solo.”
Sam turned red, but Madison was unflappable as she quirked an eyebrow at Dean.
“You’re taking your son to go look for my ex, who, by the way, you think is raising some sort of wild animal to attack people in an attempt to get to me?” Madison looked from Dean to Sam. “Am I getting that right?”
“You forgot the part where you’re so grateful to have been rescued from a painful death that you sleep with Sam,” Dean said, embarrassing everyone in the room except for himself. Dean’s hand landed on Harry’s shoulder while Sam death-glared at him. “Other than that? Yeah, you nailed it, sweetheart.”
“Shouldn’t Harry stay here?” Sam asked. “Where it’s safe?”
“It’s not safe if Madison’s the target,” Dean pointed out. He winked when he added, “Plus you two crazy kids are making him uncomfortable.”
Sam looked at Harry for confirmation and Harry only looked at the ceiling, forcing himself to study it as if he would be quizzed on the precise locations of every speck of dust. It wasn’t all that dusty, actually, not like Harry’s bedroom ceiling at home.
Harry had spent a miserable few days dusting the ceilings at the Dursleys house… it was odd to think of that and compare it to how little cleaning he did with his brothers. Harry kept his room tidy enough (better than Dean’s, sloppy compared to Sam’s). Harry washed dishes if Dean didn’t beat him to it, he did laundry for whoever needed it done when he did his own. But… they really didn’t make many messes that ever needed cleaning.
It might have been because they were on the road as often as they were home or perhaps that Dean wasn’t obsessed with cleanliness like Aunt Petunia. Harry couldn’t be certain of which factor weighed more heavily, but it was an overall improvement.
Sam rolled his eyes when he saw that Harry wasn’t going to get in the middle of his and Dean’s disagreement - Dean already said Harry could go with him.
“Fine,” he said. “Dean, will you just be careful? Please?”
“Me?” Dean’s hand tightened on Harry’s shoulder for a moment “I’m always careful, Sammy. It’s you and Harry that can’t be left alone.” Dean gave Madison a winking smile that wasn’t returned. “Don’t worry, you’re in good hands.”
Madison seemed skeptical, but Dean and Harry were already leaving.
“Oh, shit, hold up.” Dean paused on the porch and ran back inside, his hand fishing for something in his pocket as he ran.
Harry waited patiently, looking through the trees for the moon. It wasn’t all the way up yet, only partially. With any luck, Harry would get through the night without anything dramatic (a troll attacking Hermione, the Chamber of Secrets being opened, Sirius Black attacking a painting) happening.
It was a good ideal to have, but it also made Harry a bit sad.
Harry hadn’t even known that his parents died on Halloween until he’d been eleven. Then every Halloween after had been dramatic enough that Harry didn’t have much time to think about it. But James and Lily Potter had been dead for thirteen years and that- that was sad.
Harry never got to know them outside of photographs and a memory he wished he didn’t have. Harry knew of them - he knew James was funny, outgoing, brave. Lily had been intelligent, witty, protective.
In a very strange way, a very strange way that Harry would never speak aloud because the thought startled even himself as soon as it made itself known in his mind… but they were sort of like Dean and Sam.
Dean was outgoing, brave, funny. Sam was intelligent, witty, protective.
Dean was also annoying, arrogant, and immature while Sam could be petty, moody, and stubborn.
So maybe not so much like Harry’s parents then.
Dean was chuckling when he rejoined Harry and urged him to head toward the car.
“It’s a shame you’re the baby,” Dean told Harry when they were both in the car. Harry had very nearly taken the backseat, not keen on flying through a windshield ever again, and only took the front when he thought Dean might laugh at him got sitting in the back.
“Why’s that?” Harry asked, not really paying much attention to the conversation. Harry buckled his seatbelt then subtly checked to make sure it was buckled. When Dean put the car in drive, Harry tugged on it again and pretended that he was sweating because California was too hot for a leather jacket.
“Because you’ll never find the simple joy in embarrassing the hell out of your little brother,” Dean said, the picture of ease as he drove. “It’s really an art form, kid, and—” Dean looked over at Harry then did a double-take. “Dude, you look sick.”
Harry felt sick, actually. His skin was clammy and his stomach felt queasy. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly, refusing to sick up in Dean’s beloved car.
Closing his eyes didn’t make it any better, it only made Harry think of Sam screaming when Harry slid across rough pavement. Harry didn’t remember what exactly it felt like to smash his head on the ground, but he imagined it had hurt like hell.
It was… what if Dean wrecked? What if Dean were the one to fly through a windshield? Harry heard what everyone said, what they never said to his face, it had been a close call, maybe closer than Harry had been to death before. Harry nearly died and he couldn’t get any names out properly and what if it happened again? What if it wasn’t a broken wrist or a few days in the hospital?
What if it was a funeral and Sam being the one to lose two people on Halloween?!
Dean put his hand on the back of Harry’s neck and slowly, but with firm pressure, shoved down until Harry’s forehead was resting on his knees.
“Tuck your head and breathe,” Dean said, sounding very far away despite the warmth of his hand on Harry’s neck. Dean’s thumb moved side to side in a rhythmic motion. “And for the love of God, don’t puke in my car.”
Harry tried to work his facial muscles in a smile then focused on breathing when he found he couldn’t do that. The car didn’t seem to be moving very fast… Dean was a good driver…
Weren’t Harry’s brothers in a car accident not long before Harry met them?! It was what pushed Dean to nearly die himself, the event that caused John Winchester to trade his soul for Dean’s life? Who had been driving?!
If it was Sam then Harry would never ride in the passenger seat with him again, if it had been Dean then Harry would never ride in the passenger seat with anyone again. Harry would ride in the backseat until he was old enough to drive himself… maybe even then he would only fly… could Harry do that? Just travel on his broomstick beneath his cloak everywhere?
Harry never wrecked his broom when there weren’t possessed teachers, bewitched bludgers, or Hufflepuff-loving dementors around?
It was Harry’s own thoughts about flying that managed to make his stomach settle and the strange buzzing in his ears to diminish. Only then did Harry realize that Dean still had a hold of the back of his neck and was singing quietly.
“There a lady who’s sure all that glitters is gold… and she’s buying the stairway to Heaven…”
Harry listened to Dean sing for a few extra seconds to be very sure he wasn’t going to get sick before he lifted his head up. Dean immediately pulled his hand back and Harry tried to find a rational explanation for the fear that had made him actually feel sick.
“I…” Harry latched on to the first thing he thought of. Then he felt less sick when he realized that he knew what he wanted to say and still couldn’t say it. Halloween. It was one word. Simple, right in his thoughts.
“The day or the car?” Dean asked, watching Harry from the corner of his eye - as if that would help Harry not worry about them wrecking.
Harry tugged on his belt clip, it was secure, and shrugged.
“Both,” he said. It might have been true enough, Harry didn’t extend too much time analyzing his thoughts or feelings… that was what his friends were for when Harry found time to send them lengthy letters.
Somehow, despite Harry not seeing Ron or Hermione as much as he used to, Harry probably told them more in the letters he wrote than he ever did in person. It was easier to convey things in letters when Harry had plenty of time to find until right words.
Much simpler than conversations tended to be.
“Ah.”
Dean didn’t really do much more talking than Harry did, but Harry didn’t think he imagined that the car slowed down some. They must have driven a ways because they were in an unfamiliar business district, moving down busy streets and passing crowds dressed up for the holiday. There were a lot of pubs with rowdy crowds overflowing out the doors, laughing and drinking with their friends.
“You know what’s going to cheer you up?” Dean slowed the car down even more and he pointed out Harry’s window to a blue car parked in an alley. “That’s the douche bag ex’s car.”
“Which… what? Proves I’m right about him not being a werewolf?” Harry asked blankly, unsure how finding the bloke’s car was meant to ‘cheer him up’.
“Nope.” Dean pulled the car over and parked it not far from the other car. Perhaps that was what was meant to cheer Harry up? Getting out of the car?
“I’m pretty sure if I was a douche bag who lost a hot babe like Madison, I’d be spending my night in there.” Dean pointed to a pub that was indistinguishable to Harry, just another dark doorway lit up with a neon light.
“And if I were a fourteen year old with an invisible blanket…” Dean grinned widely at Harry and Harry wanted to be excited about whatever was making Dean grin, but he was mostly lost. “C’mon, kid, time to pop one of those cherries.”
Harry didn’t get the joke until they were inside the pub and Harry realized suddenly, all at once, that it wasn’t a pub at all… it was a - a…
“Strip club,” Dean said happily. He looked through the room of topless women and somehow managed to find the bloke they were supposed to be tracking (Harry forgot entirely what the point of anything was the instant he stepped inside).
“We’d be shit hunters if we didn’t babysit the suspect, huh?” Dean muttered from the corner of his mouth while he walked around the edge of the room, Harry following behind him from beneath his cloak.
“Yeah,” Harry breathed, his eyes wide and his face hot and clammy… not at all sick.
It was something out of a dream that most teenage boys probably had. There were a dozen women, each one more beautiful than the others, walking around in high heels and not much else. There were two women dancing on a stage that took up the center of the floor, twirling around poles and flashing coy looks to the crowd.
Harry was going to die.
Dean found two chairs right up by the stage, directly across from the bloke they were meant to be tracking. Dean left Harry there for a few minutes, muttering something about getting a drink… or cash? Harry wasn’t sure.
The entire building could probably have caught on fire and Harry wouldn’t have noticed. As long as the woman that was dancing, making faces as if she were dancing just for Harry, even though she couldn’t even see him, still danced then Harry would be content. It was even better when Dean returned and slipped a cold bottle beneath the cloak for Harry.
“‘Not Your Father’s Root Beer’,” Dean told him quietly, already settling in his seat with his eyes also riveted to the stage. Dean held his hand up for a moment, flashing a bill to the woman. “When you’re twenty-one, I’ll buy you a lap dance.”
Harry was sure that a lap dance would be better if it were his lap that the woman danced on, not his brother’s.
Either way… Harry decided that he was going to start spending Halloween in a strip club instead of having something terrible happen. It was a bloody amazing distraction. It got better when Harry saw a woman with her hair pulled up in two poufs on the top of her head and cat whiskers drawn on her face.
She looked a bit like Hermione… cat whiskers and all…
Harry wished he could tell Ron about it, but with Harry’s luck, Hermione would somehow find out what Harry said and be upset somehow. If she were there, she wouldn’t be.
It didn’t seem to be legal to be upset in a strip club. There was probably a rule against it… like fourteen year olds drinking and being inside, but a rule that was much less easily dodged around.
When Madison’s ex left the pub, Harry had been so distracted by the dancing women that Dean had to shake him to get him to follow them out the door.
“Wow. Wow.” Harry didn’t know what to say when he slipped outside, following his brother. Was the world dimmer outside? Less colorful? Not as glittering?
Would anything be the sa—
Oh, it was just dark.
“Shh.” Dean pressed a finger to his lips and followed the bloke toward the alleyway where his car had been parked. Harry followed behind him, not very concerned.
The full moon was high in the sky, if the bloke were a werewolf then he would have transformed already.
The bloke bypassed his car, leading them further in the dark alley. Harry felt uneasy, the little hairs on the back of his neck stood up, but then the bloke stopped midway and dropped his trousers to piss on a rubbish bin.
Ugh. Harry looked away and that was when he saw a shadow at the far end of the alley shift, there was a growl, and something lunged from the far end of the alley.
Dean shoved Harry backward as the creature lunged toward the bloke. Harry stumbled, but didn’t fall. He was too shocked by the sight of the creature.
It wasn’t a werewolf, or at least not one like- like that one werewolf professor had been. The thing was tall, their neck elongated. Harry could only yell out a warning when it stuck deep claws directly in the back of the bloke, ripping him open before he even knew it was there.
Dean pulled his gun and fired at the creature that looked more human than monster - Harry yelled another warning- it was a human? The thing ripped its claws down the bloke’s back, causing a screech from the man that cut off in a gurgle, and then whipped its head toward Dean.
It was a woman. Her face was distorted, fangs bared, long and dark hair tangled around her face. Dean fired at her again, his aim steady and the bullet still only grazing her arm. She howled before turning and running away, leaping over rubbish bins and immediately disappearing in the night.
Harry didn’t need to ask Dean why he had only shot at her arm, instead of her chest as he told Harry they should do when facing a werewolf…
Even with the wolfish characteristics rearranging her face and twisting her appearance… Harry knew precisely who she was and the silent ringing in the alleyway told him that Dean knew who she was as well.
Madison.
The muggle woman who they left alone with their brother.
Dean took off after Madison, leaving Harry to chase them. Harry faltered for a second beside the body collapsed on the ground, his blood still pouring and his eyes staring unseeingly up at the sky.
That couldn’t be Sam, it couldn’t be.
Harry nearly forgot about the phone that Bobby gave him while his mind whirled with concern for Sam. Dean had climbed the rubbish bins to chase Madison and Harry struggled to keep up while he tripped on his cloak and tried to get his phone from his pocket.
Dean jumped from the bin, caught himself without even dropping his gun, and continued the chase. Harry tripped on the hem of his cloak, rolled when he hit the ground, he skinned his knee and quickly got to his feet. Dean was already gone though, shouting over his shoulder for Harry to meet him back at the car.
“Yeah, sure,” Harry yelled back. Harry wasn’t worried about Dean; werewolves were fast, Dean would never catch Madison to get hurt. It was Sam who had Harry’s heart racing and his head spinning- had Madison hurt him when she transformed?
Harry backed to the side of the alley and leaned against it after ripping his cloak off. Harry laid it over his shoulder and ignored his trembling fingers as he opened the phone. It was easy to find Sam’s contact and press the call button, Harry only had three numbers programmed in his phone.
It rang… and rang… and rang…
“You’ve reached Sam Winchester. If you need my assistance with a problem, please leave a detailed—”
Harry hung up and dialed again. It did the same thing, ringing over and over before eventually going to voicemail.
“Call me, please,” Harry said, leaving a voicemail that time. Harry disconnected and started calling again while he started making his way back through the alley to find Dean’s car.
By the time Harry found the car, he had called Sam seven times and Sam didn’t answer a single time.
If Madison killed Sam then Harry - Harry would… he didn’t know, but she would regret it. It was shocking that she was a werewolf, Harry didn’t think that necessarily made her any more of a monster than Professor Werwolf-Bloke was, but if she hurt Sam?
Harry would kill her himself.
Dean was pale and shook his head silently when he met Harry back at the car. Harry’s stomach sank and he furtively looked up at the full moon before taking the passenger seat once more.
Harry buckled in and then gripped the door handle tightly with his right hand while he repeatedly called Sam with his left hand. Dean leaned past Harry to grab the window control handle and he began cranking it down while he moved the car away from the curb.
“Stick your head out the window, pretend you’re on a broom if it helps.” Dean’s voice was curt, Harry wasn’t offended. Harry figured he was thinking of the same thing Harry was - Sam.
“I’m about to fuckin’ fly, so just aim puke out the window and don’t bitch.”
Harry nodded, the phone pressed to his ear while Sam’s voicemail played once again.
It was a neat trick to make Harry’s panic over being in the car disappear. Apparently all he needed was a much worse disaster to envision.