Walking on sunshine
Title: Walking on sunshine
Author: sa_kun
Fandom: Supernatural, Harry Potter
Characters: Dean, Harry, Sam, Castiel
Rating: PG.13
Word Count: 2684
Prompt: 099
Summary: Harry's curse is reversed. Castiel helps.
Disclaimer: Not mine
Author’s Notes: Dean POV. Spoilers from Deathly Hallows. Title from this song by Katrina & the Waves. Continued from I heard of a girl.
"So," Sam says.
Dean grins at his little brother. "So," he says back, just to annoy him. Sam's mostly looking at the hot-ass chick next to Dean, though.
"Are you feeling okay, Dean?"
"I didn't put a spell on him," Harry says. "Do they serve tea in this place?"
"Uh, probably," Sam says. "Who are you?"
Harry looks up. He's got glasses on now, and Dean kind of wishes he'd known about that before because, Jesus, this chick is lining up kinks Dean didn't even know he had. "I'm Harry," he says. "Dean caught me trying to lift a knife of yours."
"The one with the fancy writing on it," Dean pipes in.
Sam sits straighter at that. "So you're a thief who deals in occult objects."
"Blimey! No, I'm not. I need it to break a curse. I was going to give it back."
"If you didn't break the knife in the process."
"Yes," Harry says. "Assuming it held."
Sam nods. Before he can say anything, though, the waitress comes along and they turn in their orders. "So, what's the curse?" he asks.
"Like I said, my name's Harry, and I'm actually a bloke."
Sam's eyebrows shoot up. "Huh," he says, then glances at Dean.
"Don't!" Dean gets out.
"Wasn't gonna," Sam says, but there's that glint in his eyes, the one that says yeah, I'm so gonna mess with you, bro. "Just, if I'd known you were into that I'd've told you to get a room with Cas ages ago."
"Sam."
"Dean," Sam says, tone sweet and mocking and annoying.
Harry's grinning. "You two remind me of someone I used to know so much," he says. "Who's Cas?"
"He's actually called Castiel," Sam starts.
"Castiel?" Harry interrupts. "That name sounds vaguely inhuman."
"I am an Angel of the Lord," Cas says, and they all jump, because, Jesus, someone needs to teach that guy not to fucking appear out of nowhere with no warning like that real fucking soon.
Harry's eyes are huge and round. Dean wants to laugh, 'cause the guy's never looked more like a chick than he does right now, which should be wrong, right?
"Right," Harry says. "Of course you are."
Cas tilts his head to the side, look in his eyes considering. "You're Harry Potter." Then he leans over the table, eyes on Harry's. It wouldn't be weird if Harry wasn't leaning over the table as well, staring straight back at Cas like the chick won the fucking championship in the awkward-staring-at-strangers category right next to the angel.
Sam's staring at Dean, the look in his eyes screaming seriously? Dean stares back, screaming seriously? What the fuck? because fuck if he knows.
"You picked him up in a bar?" Sam asks, and Dean thinks it's just typically Sammy to get the fucking pronouns right on the first fucking try. Fine, so Dean only got them wrong once out loud after Harry'd come clean, and the lashing he'd got for that one sure made him remember to get it right after that (yes, even in his mind, dammit: Harry was fucking scary when he wanted to be. Which, heh, was really way too hot). "Seriously?"
"Dude, he's the hottest fucking chick I've ever seen," Dean protests. "You shoulda seen him, man. Seriously, he's a gay guy, right, so he makes an awesome chick 'cause he knows all about the right buttons and how to press them, yeah?"
"Yeah," Sam says. "I know."
"No, you don't," Dean counters, feeling a little smug.
Sam just smirks, though. Dean's eyes may or may not have bugged out a little at that, because, Sammy? His baby brother Sammy? Hooking up with guys? Since when? "Yeah, Dean, I do," Sam says.
"You-"
"Stanford?" Sam shoots back and rolls his eyes. "It's not important, seriously. It happened a couple of times, that's it." Sam shakes his head, then looks back at where Harry and Cas are still caught in the weirdest fucking staring contest ever. "I get Cas not blinking, but Harry?"
"Yeah, I don't get it."
"You sure he's human?"
"He got into the motel room, his eyes don't flare. Seriously, though, what kind of monster wears glasses?"
"The real deal?"
"I went blind just holding them in front of my face, I swear."
"Isn't it kinda weird that Cas knew his name just like that, though?" Sam snaps his fingers to make his point, and Dean has to agree with it. Dude's an angel, sure, but he's not all that into bothering with the names of strangers, is he?
"'Less he's a prophet?"
"Yeah, I guess." Sam shrugs, Dean echoes the sentiment, and then the food arrives. Dean digs in, Sam starts buttering up his toast, and the staring contest goes on.
"And, you know, how often does he come when you say his name, anyway?"
"Well, you're the one with the expert opinion on that one, Sammy," Dean starts, leer only just starting to creep out when Sam glares and kicks his leg under the table, and Dean can't exactly let that go, can he?
"Jerk," Sam bites out.
"Hey, you're the one who goes for guys, not me. Bitch."
Sam rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Seriously, though, how often does Cas even appear when you just say his name? I mean, I get when we call him on purpose, but just a casual mention?"
Dean shakes his head. "Yeah, I know. Seriously." It's a bit weird, is all. Usually, Dean has to at least pray or try and call him on his phone or something. Just saying the guy's name almost never works (unless it's Dean who's doing the saying but even then he kind of really has to need Cas to drop by, so, you know).
Dean's almost done with his food when Cas goes, "Huh," and leans back.
Harry blinks, shrugs, then digs into his plate of scrambled eggs and toast. Dean looks between them, catches Sam's eye, then says, "You guys done now?"
"The knife wouldn't have worked," Cas says. "He needs an angelic blade."
"You got that from fifteen minutes of eye-fucking?"
"We weren't," Cas starts, but Harry laughs and says, "Dean, that's not eye-fucking. You need to be tied naked to a bed for that. I can show you after I turn back, if you want."
Dean feels himself go red. Sam chokes on his coffee, the bastard, trying not to laugh. "Oh, fuck off," he mutters. "You know I'm not into guys."
"You protest a lot, though," Harry says, pilling scrambled eggs on toast, stacks another one on top, then eats it like a hamburger. Brits are weird, man. "So, an angelic blade? Where do I find that?"
"I have one," Cas says.
Harry lights up. He almost looks innocent, too, when he asks, "Is it big?"
"It's a respectable size," Cas says, straight faced like always. "Would you like to see it?"
"Can I touch it?"
Cas is reaching into his pocket to pull the blade out, when Sam butts in with, "Not in public, man, that shit's private," and Dean loses it. Okay, so maybe it's not that funny, but it's been forever since he laughed with his best brother, his best buddy, and the chick he banged last night all in one place. In fact, he doesn't think that's ever happened before. He knows he's not the only one laughing, and it only gets worse after he sees the grinning angel high-five a laughing Harry, but that's okay.
In the motel, Sam and Harry sort through their supply of herbs and shit while Dean tries his best to draw out the magic circle Cas left detailed instructions for. He's fairly sure Cas'll touch up on it when he gets back from his own supply run for the stuff that's so rare him and Sam's never even heard of it before. Harry had, though, which, again: weird.
"So, how long've you been like this?" Sam asks.
"Too long," Harry says. "My family back home said there wasn't a way to reverse it, but I didn't agree."
"They know about the supernatural?"
Harry shrugs. "There's a community of us over there. We live separate from normal people, trying to keep it all secret. It's not ideal, but it works. When they started pushing me to get married, settle down and have kids, I decided to see if I couldn't find a cure somewhere else."
"Why'd they push for that?" Dean butts in. Sam and Harry both look over at him, then go back to chopping and grinding herbs and bones or whatever.
"Because I'm gay. They didn't really see what the big issue was. My body's female now, so why not go for a shot of 'normal'? It doesn't work like that, though. I'm a bloke, not a woman. I haven't felt normal since I was cursed. I feel wrong, uncomfortable in my own skin. It's like I don't fit any more. It's weird and disgusting. It's… I don't like it."
Cas comes back right around then, a sack of cloth in one hand and a duffle in the other. Harry grins like Christmas came early or something. "You got my things?"
Cas inclines his head. "You asked me to."
Harry just shrugs and smiles, as if he isn't used to people doing things for him. "Thanks, mate. Did you find everything we need?"
"Yes."
Harry's smile gets a bit wider, he says thanks again, then takes his bag and goes into the bathroom.
"So, Cas."
"Dean."
"How'd you know the guy, anyway?"
Cas does his version of a shrug. "It's not of import, to tell you the truth." He starts pulling stuff out of his bag, packets of herbs, and bones, and bottles of liquid. "He saved his world, and this one in the process some years ago now. My garrison was charged with watching this planet, as you know, and we observed him and his people along with everything else." Cas looks up and more or less pins Dean down with his gaze. "He is a very brave and righteous man, Dean. He died to save us, just as you both have." Cas frowns down at the bowl on the table. "I need his blood," he says, then disappears.
Sam and Dean wince at each other when they hear Harry's outraged squawk from inside the bathroom. Whatever happens next sounds a lot like a smaller war, with muffled bangs and curses drifting out through the door. In the end, the door flies off its hinges and Cas stalks out after it, trench coat painted in more colours than Dean can readily name with his hair bright green and even more fucked up than usual.
"Uh," Sam starts while Dean stares at Harry, who's glowering in the doorway, arms crossed and holding onto a stick that's got smoke coming out of it with one hand.
"It's not wise to surprise a wizard," Cas says, eyes fixed on the bowl that he's pouring a vial of what's got to be Harry's blood in it.
"You don't bloody well sneak up on someone from behind, you moron," Harry calls after him.
"Wizard?"
"Like, a witch?" Dean demands, inching for his gun.
Harry rolls his eyes. "No. Well, yes, but not like that. We don't make deals, we inherit it from our parents or something. How the first wizards came to be, nobody knows."
"Like, that stick's a wand?"
"Yes," Cas says. "Harry, you need to light this on fire."
"Incendio," Harry says, pointing his stick at where Cas is holding up an honest to god torch that looks like it came straight out of an Indiana Jones movie. The beam of light shoots from Harry to the torch, lightning it on fire faster than the speed of light (no, not really, or else he wouldn't be able to fucking see it, would he?).
"Good," Castiel says, then trusts the burning torch at Sam. "I need you to hold this. Harry, I need something that belonged to your parents."
"Right," Harry says. He waves his stick again, and the duffle comes out floating in the air, over to the bed.
"Right," Dean echoes. "No con."
Harry kind of pauses at that, then he sends Dean this sort of half-and-half look of apology and apprehension. He says, "I could get arrested for this."
"Oh, 'for this'?" Dean bites back, air-quotes and all.
"Unauthorised use of magic around Muggles. Normal people. Like you." Harry says most of this to the bag he's got opened up on the bed. Even with all the bullshit carp about magic and wizards, Dean can't make himself not move over, either, because, dude.
"That is an awesome bag."
Harry flicks a grin over his shoulder. "Yeah?"
"Hell, yeah."
"What?" Sam asks, stuck in place carrying a torch for Cas. Heh.
"It's like a fucking TARDIS, man," Dean says, all blissed and freaked out. He kind of wants to stick his hand in there, except for how he's not sure if it'd come out again. That thing goes on forever.
Harry sort of freezes at that, though. "How the fucking wank did I never think of that? I could make an honest to Merlin TARDIS. Dean-"
"Harry," Castiel says.
"Oh, right. Um. The Cloak belonged to my dad. I don't have anything that was Mum's. Something of mine I can't live without'll have to be my glasses, because I'm blinder than a mole without them. Would that work?"
"That's what you were planning to use before?"
"Yeah."
"Then it's good enough. It's mostly about intent. Except, of course, for the element of vanquishing evil. Why didn't you use the Elder Wand?"
"Because it's not purely one thing, is it? It needs someone to say a spell, to mean it, and it's not just an object, either. I mean, the core was a living creature at some point. I just figured it would be better not to mix it up with this ritual. A blade is more straightforward in that sense." He slides a glance to Dean, then. "Can I trust you not to jump into my bag?"
Dean shrugs. "Maybe."
Harry laughs, then holds up something that's shiny and smooth. Which he drapes over himself. Dean may or may have dropped his mouth open at this point, because, seriously? Seriously? A fucking invisibility cloak?
"Jesus," Sam spits out, eyes likes saucers.
"I want that, so bad. Holy fucking shit, man, gimme that!"
Harry just laughs, though, pulls it off and walks over to Cas. They start talking a lot of Latin, then, which Dean tunes out and Sam sucks up like the giant sponge of a geek he is. It ends with Harry's glasses, cracked and smashed, in the bowl and Harry's awesome cloak of awesome that Dean is so testing out as soon as he can pry it off of Harry in a ring outside of it.
"Uh, guys?" Sam butts in, still with the torch.
Harry grins. "You're the ideal I'm striving for, Sam. The light at the end of the tunnel." They move around a bit after that, Harry positioning Sam where he wants him, painting all kinds of symbols on the handle of the torch, on Sam, on Harry. In the end, Harry gags down a god awful concoction that Cas cooked up at some point - honestly, it smells so bad Dean almost gags and he's feet away, and he doesn't even have to put it into his mouth.
Harry grips onto Cas tight after he's choked it down, eyes clenched tightly shut, and he's kind of weaving like a drunk where he's standing, as if he's seconds away from collapsing or something. Cas, of course, being the sensitive, caring guy that he is, manhandles Harry around, slams his hands down on the table on either side of the bowl that is sort of oozing, sort of smoking some really weird, toxic-coloured thick mist, then shoves Harry's face down in it and starts chanting in fucking Enochian or something.
Yeah, like Dean said: caring guy, that Castiel.
Author: sa_kun
Fandom: Supernatural, Harry Potter
Characters: Dean, Harry, Sam, Castiel
Rating: PG.13
Word Count: 2684
Prompt: 099
Summary: Harry's curse is reversed. Castiel helps.
Disclaimer: Not mine
Author’s Notes: Dean POV. Spoilers from Deathly Hallows. Title from this song by Katrina & the Waves. Continued from I heard of a girl.
"So," Sam says.
Dean grins at his little brother. "So," he says back, just to annoy him. Sam's mostly looking at the hot-ass chick next to Dean, though.
"Are you feeling okay, Dean?"
"I didn't put a spell on him," Harry says. "Do they serve tea in this place?"
"Uh, probably," Sam says. "Who are you?"
Harry looks up. He's got glasses on now, and Dean kind of wishes he'd known about that before because, Jesus, this chick is lining up kinks Dean didn't even know he had. "I'm Harry," he says. "Dean caught me trying to lift a knife of yours."
"The one with the fancy writing on it," Dean pipes in.
Sam sits straighter at that. "So you're a thief who deals in occult objects."
"Blimey! No, I'm not. I need it to break a curse. I was going to give it back."
"If you didn't break the knife in the process."
"Yes," Harry says. "Assuming it held."
Sam nods. Before he can say anything, though, the waitress comes along and they turn in their orders. "So, what's the curse?" he asks.
"Like I said, my name's Harry, and I'm actually a bloke."
Sam's eyebrows shoot up. "Huh," he says, then glances at Dean.
"Don't!" Dean gets out.
"Wasn't gonna," Sam says, but there's that glint in his eyes, the one that says yeah, I'm so gonna mess with you, bro. "Just, if I'd known you were into that I'd've told you to get a room with Cas ages ago."
"Sam."
"Dean," Sam says, tone sweet and mocking and annoying.
Harry's grinning. "You two remind me of someone I used to know so much," he says. "Who's Cas?"
"He's actually called Castiel," Sam starts.
"Castiel?" Harry interrupts. "That name sounds vaguely inhuman."
"I am an Angel of the Lord," Cas says, and they all jump, because, Jesus, someone needs to teach that guy not to fucking appear out of nowhere with no warning like that real fucking soon.
Harry's eyes are huge and round. Dean wants to laugh, 'cause the guy's never looked more like a chick than he does right now, which should be wrong, right?
"Right," Harry says. "Of course you are."
Cas tilts his head to the side, look in his eyes considering. "You're Harry Potter." Then he leans over the table, eyes on Harry's. It wouldn't be weird if Harry wasn't leaning over the table as well, staring straight back at Cas like the chick won the fucking championship in the awkward-staring-at-strangers category right next to the angel.
Sam's staring at Dean, the look in his eyes screaming seriously? Dean stares back, screaming seriously? What the fuck? because fuck if he knows.
"You picked him up in a bar?" Sam asks, and Dean thinks it's just typically Sammy to get the fucking pronouns right on the first fucking try. Fine, so Dean only got them wrong once out loud after Harry'd come clean, and the lashing he'd got for that one sure made him remember to get it right after that (yes, even in his mind, dammit: Harry was fucking scary when he wanted to be. Which, heh, was really way too hot). "Seriously?"
"Dude, he's the hottest fucking chick I've ever seen," Dean protests. "You shoulda seen him, man. Seriously, he's a gay guy, right, so he makes an awesome chick 'cause he knows all about the right buttons and how to press them, yeah?"
"Yeah," Sam says. "I know."
"No, you don't," Dean counters, feeling a little smug.
Sam just smirks, though. Dean's eyes may or may not have bugged out a little at that, because, Sammy? His baby brother Sammy? Hooking up with guys? Since when? "Yeah, Dean, I do," Sam says.
"You-"
"Stanford?" Sam shoots back and rolls his eyes. "It's not important, seriously. It happened a couple of times, that's it." Sam shakes his head, then looks back at where Harry and Cas are still caught in the weirdest fucking staring contest ever. "I get Cas not blinking, but Harry?"
"Yeah, I don't get it."
"You sure he's human?"
"He got into the motel room, his eyes don't flare. Seriously, though, what kind of monster wears glasses?"
"The real deal?"
"I went blind just holding them in front of my face, I swear."
"Isn't it kinda weird that Cas knew his name just like that, though?" Sam snaps his fingers to make his point, and Dean has to agree with it. Dude's an angel, sure, but he's not all that into bothering with the names of strangers, is he?
"'Less he's a prophet?"
"Yeah, I guess." Sam shrugs, Dean echoes the sentiment, and then the food arrives. Dean digs in, Sam starts buttering up his toast, and the staring contest goes on.
"And, you know, how often does he come when you say his name, anyway?"
"Well, you're the one with the expert opinion on that one, Sammy," Dean starts, leer only just starting to creep out when Sam glares and kicks his leg under the table, and Dean can't exactly let that go, can he?
"Jerk," Sam bites out.
"Hey, you're the one who goes for guys, not me. Bitch."
Sam rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Seriously, though, how often does Cas even appear when you just say his name? I mean, I get when we call him on purpose, but just a casual mention?"
Dean shakes his head. "Yeah, I know. Seriously." It's a bit weird, is all. Usually, Dean has to at least pray or try and call him on his phone or something. Just saying the guy's name almost never works (unless it's Dean who's doing the saying but even then he kind of really has to need Cas to drop by, so, you know).
Dean's almost done with his food when Cas goes, "Huh," and leans back.
Harry blinks, shrugs, then digs into his plate of scrambled eggs and toast. Dean looks between them, catches Sam's eye, then says, "You guys done now?"
"The knife wouldn't have worked," Cas says. "He needs an angelic blade."
"You got that from fifteen minutes of eye-fucking?"
"We weren't," Cas starts, but Harry laughs and says, "Dean, that's not eye-fucking. You need to be tied naked to a bed for that. I can show you after I turn back, if you want."
Dean feels himself go red. Sam chokes on his coffee, the bastard, trying not to laugh. "Oh, fuck off," he mutters. "You know I'm not into guys."
"You protest a lot, though," Harry says, pilling scrambled eggs on toast, stacks another one on top, then eats it like a hamburger. Brits are weird, man. "So, an angelic blade? Where do I find that?"
"I have one," Cas says.
Harry lights up. He almost looks innocent, too, when he asks, "Is it big?"
"It's a respectable size," Cas says, straight faced like always. "Would you like to see it?"
"Can I touch it?"
Cas is reaching into his pocket to pull the blade out, when Sam butts in with, "Not in public, man, that shit's private," and Dean loses it. Okay, so maybe it's not that funny, but it's been forever since he laughed with his best brother, his best buddy, and the chick he banged last night all in one place. In fact, he doesn't think that's ever happened before. He knows he's not the only one laughing, and it only gets worse after he sees the grinning angel high-five a laughing Harry, but that's okay.
In the motel, Sam and Harry sort through their supply of herbs and shit while Dean tries his best to draw out the magic circle Cas left detailed instructions for. He's fairly sure Cas'll touch up on it when he gets back from his own supply run for the stuff that's so rare him and Sam's never even heard of it before. Harry had, though, which, again: weird.
"So, how long've you been like this?" Sam asks.
"Too long," Harry says. "My family back home said there wasn't a way to reverse it, but I didn't agree."
"They know about the supernatural?"
Harry shrugs. "There's a community of us over there. We live separate from normal people, trying to keep it all secret. It's not ideal, but it works. When they started pushing me to get married, settle down and have kids, I decided to see if I couldn't find a cure somewhere else."
"Why'd they push for that?" Dean butts in. Sam and Harry both look over at him, then go back to chopping and grinding herbs and bones or whatever.
"Because I'm gay. They didn't really see what the big issue was. My body's female now, so why not go for a shot of 'normal'? It doesn't work like that, though. I'm a bloke, not a woman. I haven't felt normal since I was cursed. I feel wrong, uncomfortable in my own skin. It's like I don't fit any more. It's weird and disgusting. It's… I don't like it."
Cas comes back right around then, a sack of cloth in one hand and a duffle in the other. Harry grins like Christmas came early or something. "You got my things?"
Cas inclines his head. "You asked me to."
Harry just shrugs and smiles, as if he isn't used to people doing things for him. "Thanks, mate. Did you find everything we need?"
"Yes."
Harry's smile gets a bit wider, he says thanks again, then takes his bag and goes into the bathroom.
"So, Cas."
"Dean."
"How'd you know the guy, anyway?"
Cas does his version of a shrug. "It's not of import, to tell you the truth." He starts pulling stuff out of his bag, packets of herbs, and bones, and bottles of liquid. "He saved his world, and this one in the process some years ago now. My garrison was charged with watching this planet, as you know, and we observed him and his people along with everything else." Cas looks up and more or less pins Dean down with his gaze. "He is a very brave and righteous man, Dean. He died to save us, just as you both have." Cas frowns down at the bowl on the table. "I need his blood," he says, then disappears.
Sam and Dean wince at each other when they hear Harry's outraged squawk from inside the bathroom. Whatever happens next sounds a lot like a smaller war, with muffled bangs and curses drifting out through the door. In the end, the door flies off its hinges and Cas stalks out after it, trench coat painted in more colours than Dean can readily name with his hair bright green and even more fucked up than usual.
"Uh," Sam starts while Dean stares at Harry, who's glowering in the doorway, arms crossed and holding onto a stick that's got smoke coming out of it with one hand.
"It's not wise to surprise a wizard," Cas says, eyes fixed on the bowl that he's pouring a vial of what's got to be Harry's blood in it.
"You don't bloody well sneak up on someone from behind, you moron," Harry calls after him.
"Wizard?"
"Like, a witch?" Dean demands, inching for his gun.
Harry rolls his eyes. "No. Well, yes, but not like that. We don't make deals, we inherit it from our parents or something. How the first wizards came to be, nobody knows."
"Like, that stick's a wand?"
"Yes," Cas says. "Harry, you need to light this on fire."
"Incendio," Harry says, pointing his stick at where Cas is holding up an honest to god torch that looks like it came straight out of an Indiana Jones movie. The beam of light shoots from Harry to the torch, lightning it on fire faster than the speed of light (no, not really, or else he wouldn't be able to fucking see it, would he?).
"Good," Castiel says, then trusts the burning torch at Sam. "I need you to hold this. Harry, I need something that belonged to your parents."
"Right," Harry says. He waves his stick again, and the duffle comes out floating in the air, over to the bed.
"Right," Dean echoes. "No con."
Harry kind of pauses at that, then he sends Dean this sort of half-and-half look of apology and apprehension. He says, "I could get arrested for this."
"Oh, 'for this'?" Dean bites back, air-quotes and all.
"Unauthorised use of magic around Muggles. Normal people. Like you." Harry says most of this to the bag he's got opened up on the bed. Even with all the bullshit carp about magic and wizards, Dean can't make himself not move over, either, because, dude.
"That is an awesome bag."
Harry flicks a grin over his shoulder. "Yeah?"
"Hell, yeah."
"What?" Sam asks, stuck in place carrying a torch for Cas. Heh.
"It's like a fucking TARDIS, man," Dean says, all blissed and freaked out. He kind of wants to stick his hand in there, except for how he's not sure if it'd come out again. That thing goes on forever.
Harry sort of freezes at that, though. "How the fucking wank did I never think of that? I could make an honest to Merlin TARDIS. Dean-"
"Harry," Castiel says.
"Oh, right. Um. The Cloak belonged to my dad. I don't have anything that was Mum's. Something of mine I can't live without'll have to be my glasses, because I'm blinder than a mole without them. Would that work?"
"That's what you were planning to use before?"
"Yeah."
"Then it's good enough. It's mostly about intent. Except, of course, for the element of vanquishing evil. Why didn't you use the Elder Wand?"
"Because it's not purely one thing, is it? It needs someone to say a spell, to mean it, and it's not just an object, either. I mean, the core was a living creature at some point. I just figured it would be better not to mix it up with this ritual. A blade is more straightforward in that sense." He slides a glance to Dean, then. "Can I trust you not to jump into my bag?"
Dean shrugs. "Maybe."
Harry laughs, then holds up something that's shiny and smooth. Which he drapes over himself. Dean may or may have dropped his mouth open at this point, because, seriously? Seriously? A fucking invisibility cloak?
"Jesus," Sam spits out, eyes likes saucers.
"I want that, so bad. Holy fucking shit, man, gimme that!"
Harry just laughs, though, pulls it off and walks over to Cas. They start talking a lot of Latin, then, which Dean tunes out and Sam sucks up like the giant sponge of a geek he is. It ends with Harry's glasses, cracked and smashed, in the bowl and Harry's awesome cloak of awesome that Dean is so testing out as soon as he can pry it off of Harry in a ring outside of it.
"Uh, guys?" Sam butts in, still with the torch.
Harry grins. "You're the ideal I'm striving for, Sam. The light at the end of the tunnel." They move around a bit after that, Harry positioning Sam where he wants him, painting all kinds of symbols on the handle of the torch, on Sam, on Harry. In the end, Harry gags down a god awful concoction that Cas cooked up at some point - honestly, it smells so bad Dean almost gags and he's feet away, and he doesn't even have to put it into his mouth.
Harry grips onto Cas tight after he's choked it down, eyes clenched tightly shut, and he's kind of weaving like a drunk where he's standing, as if he's seconds away from collapsing or something. Cas, of course, being the sensitive, caring guy that he is, manhandles Harry around, slams his hands down on the table on either side of the bowl that is sort of oozing, sort of smoking some really weird, toxic-coloured thick mist, then shoves Harry's face down in it and starts chanting in fucking Enochian or something.
Yeah, like Dean said: caring guy, that Castiel.