The Juniper Tree (The Dresden Files/Supernatural) 2/4
Title: The Juniper Tree
Author: ‘Drea/placeofinsanity
Rating: R (for gore, some language and implied sexual content)
Word Count: 12,370 (bitches )
Kink: Endearments, loss of control, magical themes...
Fandoms: Supernatural/The Dresden Files
Pairing: Harry/Bob, Harry/Sam, Sam/Dean
Summary: “We’re asking for help from a wizard who advertises in the yellowpages? ”
Thanks To: My lovely betas: thebunnybag , asexyzombie , rayn_firehawk and sixthbrightest
Artist: aramuin , thank you so much for the AMAZING art.
Notes: I hate Season Four Ruby. I hate her. This is your only warning. Also, the kinks are kind of hidden. Have fun finding them.
Part Two
The Angel
Sam went to knock on the door of Louis Alloui’s suburban home, but Dean caught his wrist just before his knuckles hit. “You really just trust that Dresden guy?” he muttered. “You seem to just follow his orders.”
“I’m not just following...” Sam sighed and turned to face his brother. “I know him Dean, he’s trustworthy.”
“That’s just it, Sam How do you know him?”
Grunting in frustration, Sam pulled Dean back towards the car and out of ear shot of the doorway. “Look, when I was trying to get to Standford, I hitch-hiked for the wrong guy. Harry just happened to be there and got me out of what could have been a really bad situation.” Dean raised an eyebrow, clearing wanting to know what the situation was. “You don’t need to know what,” Sam said firmly. “Just know that Harry saved my life.”
Dean pursed his lips. “All right Sammy. If you’re sure.”
“I am, Dean. Promise.”
Sam did not want to be reminded of the night that Harry had to save him from the drunken truckers. The whole experience, in his mind, was easily forgotten. He was certainly not going to tell his brother. Ever.
Dean fell silent, but kept brooding quietly, his face set in an impassive scowl. Sam smacked him hard in the arm. “If you keep making that face,” he growled, “you’re going to scare them.” He knocked before Dean could make a protest, grinning smugly when the expression smoothed away.
Patricia opened the door. “Can I help you?” she asked, her voice trembling, and her eyes red.
Dean’s nostrils flared when she leaned in close, and Sam gave him a perplexed look. “We’re associates of Harry Dresden, I believe you met him this morning?” Sam said, when Dean didn’t say anything.
“Oh, yes...” Patricia murmured faintly. “Please, come in.” They followed her through the door and into the sitting room. “Has he found the boy?”
“...No,” Sam lied, “we just had a few more questions for you.” She nodded at them to go on. “Did Cavin get bullied at school?” he asked, and Patricia shook her head rapidly.
“Everyone loved Cavin. And I know that most people say that about children who were being bullied, but he had lots of friends.”
Dean’s nose twitched again and he sneezed. “Sorry, excuse me. Mrs. Alloui, does your husband have any enemies? Anyone that might want to hurt him or his family?”
She took her time answering that one. “Not that I know of. I can get him?”
The eldest Winchester smiled charmingly. “Please.”
Once the woman had left, Sam turned to Dean and gave him another confused look. “What’s up with you?” he asked.
“Menthol,” Dean murmured. “She’s covered in menthol. I’d bet my life that those tears aren’t real, she’s using a glycerin stick.”
Sam grinned. “Good...nose.” He frowned a little at the phrasing but erased the expression when Louis and Patricia entered the room. It was then that he made his move. Sam opened his curled fist and let the two shards of vibrating crystal out.
One flung itself at Louis’ stomach, and the other at the ribbon around Patricia’s neck.
The Professor had been right.
Louis Alloui had eaten his own son.
Right.
*
Harry limped into his office several hours after Sam and Dean had returned. He was dripping blood and mud everywhere, and figured that he’d cracked a rib or two.
Sam gaped when he walked through the door. “Shit, Harry. What the hell happened to you?”
“I got turned into Harry Potter,” he grunted, collapsing into his rickety desk chair. “The Juniper Tree that The Professor showed us? Whomped the willow right out of me.”
Sam winced. “Here, lets get to the lab, I’m sure Bob will want to look at those bruises.”
“I’ve had worse,” Harry protested. “Besides its not like he can really do much, other than make sure I’m not bleeding internally.”
“Yes,” Sam said, snippy, “and the last time you refused him, you were in fact, bleeding internally.”
Dean whistled under his breath. “You get into a lot of trouble, don’t you Dresden?” Harry’s grin was a little pained. “Dude, and I thought Sam was bad.”
Harry turned to give Sam a Look, he’d learned it from Murphy; it was the stare you could only perfect if you’ve been given it more that twenty times in your life. Sam squirmed, and shot Dean a glare. Dean was more than happy to extrapolate on Sam’s many problems. “You shot me in the chest with rock salt, you’ve picked up a Demon groupie, the Angels hate you...” Dean rattled off, grinning to show his brother he didn’t really mean it.
Irked, Sam scowled. “Ghost disease,” he said succinctly.
Harry snorted, breaking the suddenly tense moment. “You two are worse than me combined.” He paused, turning to look at Dean. “Angels?”
“Yeah I have an Angel,” he gloated. “Well, it was a little freaky at first, because he definitely Touched By an Angel’ed at me, but Castiel is pretty cool.”
“Angels,” Harry muttered. “We don’t get Lord-y mumbo jumbo around here for decades then you have to go and screw it all...up.” He trailed off when Power slammed into his wards and the foundation blazed white - white? They usually blazed red when he was under....attack...
Standing in the middle of the room, clutching a hand over his heart, stood a man with wings. “Castiel!” Sam cried, surprised.
“That’s your Angel? Does he have a pager?” Harry asked, trying for amused and only sounding brittle.
The man turned, large dark feathered wings stirring the air around him. “Sam,” he said. “What is this place? Why can’t I...” a pained look crossed his face as he tried to pull in his wings and failed.
“This is my home,” Harry said, curling one arm around his ribs. “And it is warded against intruders. Those who enter without permission leave the majority of their power at the door.” He raised one sardonic eyebrow. “That includes angels.”
Bob burst through the door a moment later, having felt the disturbance of the wards. “Cas,” Dean said as Bob drew up in shock. “What the hell?”
The angel had managed to stand up straight, though his wings twitched with every breath. “Dean, I had to come...” he panted. “You are standing on top...of a Seal.”
Slowly Harry’s eyebrows raised. “Well, duh,” he muttered. “You think I set up in the heart of Chicago for fun?”
Castiel, Dean and Sam all turned as one to look at the wizard. “You knew...that this is a Seal?”
Dresden rolled his eyes. “My lab is built over a Holy Place in Undertown. I have wards and protections all the way down to the bottom of it. Let me show you.” He jerked his chin at the only clear wall. “Bob, please.”
The ghost stepped around Sam and pressed a hand to the wall. Gold fire bled out from his palm to form the outline of the door. “The only way down is through here,” the ghost said, backing away. “Harry...if...your friend there, managed to get in, perhaps the evil he warns about can as well?”
Pinching the skin between his eyes, Harry groaned. “Stars and stones,” he growled. “Bob do you think you can come up with a better formula?”
There was clearly a smile in the ghosts voice. “Of course I can. Show your friends Undertown, and I’ll figure out the right things you need.”
Castiel, pulling his wings in as far as he could, stepped through the door followed by Sam and Dean. Harry rolled his eyes at their backs and sealed the door behind them. “Sam,” he murmured. “What did you find at the Alloui’s?”
“Louis definitely ate his own son,” Dean said grimly. “And the wife? Definitely hiding something.”
In the gloom Harry turned to look at Sam. “She was using glycerin sticks to stimulate her tear ducts,” the youngest Winchester said. “Dean noticed that she smelled like menthol.”
“You sure?” he asked Dean.
He nodded. “Well, her eyes were...shiny. Like, she’d applied lip gloss to them.”
A feather brushed Harry’s cheek when Castiel turned. “You are aware of our world? And you help them?”
Exchanging a look with Sam, Harry said, “what part of ‘I’m a Wizard’ didn’t you get?” Twitching his fingers, Harry lit the lamps with a murmured ‘fuego’ and he grinned. “This, however, is my first time really helping The Winchester boys. I’ve known Sam for a fair few years though.”
Castiel looked confused, but nodded, dipping his head. “I see.”
Harry sighed. Today was definitely not shaping up to be a good one.
The night wasn’t looking much better.
And Mister was still MIA.
*
Undertown glowed with watery-green light, though deep underground, the light came from the stones above - each stone was formed in a circle. Harry motioned for everyone to to stay put and be silent. He pressed his hands into the greenish light and parted it. It closed like a curtain around him though he was still visible.
The light intensified until it was too bright to see and when it faded, Harry stood facing them. And impossibly, a huge set of white wings was supported behind him. The three spectators stood transfixed, until Harry moved and destroyed the illusion.
The wings hung there, in the wintry light. “Whose...?” Castiel asked, his own wings shivering.
Harry spread his hands, words appearing in a green light. “These are the Wings of the first Fallen.”
Violently, Castiel jerked back. “Lucifer ” he hissed.
The light winked out and Harry stepped back through the circle. “Yes,” he said gravely. “This is where he Fell. All the Wardens know of it. I just happen to be Warden of Chicago now.”
“So all the evil?” Castiel murmured, “all the wrong? It is caused by his Grace?”
The curtain of green light closed, and the image behind the circle was lost. “Don’t worry, Angel,” Harry said sassily, “no one can get to it without their power intact. You couldn’t even get through my wards without mishap.”
“But Lilith will be here,” Dean said. “Right?”
Again Harry rubbed his temples, and said, “I think you’re going to have a lot of explaining to do.”
*
Harry rolled over in surprise when a body got into bed with him. The clock on his bedside table stated it was four in the morning, he’d only been there for about two or so hours. “Sam?” he murmured sleepily. “Everything good?”
“I have something to confess...” Sam whispered against his neck. “You aren’t going to like it.”
Harry pulled the covers up over them and curled up. “Then tell me,” he yawned, “in the morning.”
Sam chuckled, leaving a kiss against the warm skin of his back. “Kissing now, talking later?” he repeated, amused. Harry grunted.
“Too tired to kiss,” he murmured into the pillow.
Warmth bled up his spine as Sam arched against him, rubbing his hips into Harry’s. “Too tired for this too?”
“We have no walls,” Harry reminded. “And now we have more than Bob.”
Sam’s hand slid around his hip. “Maybe Dean will join.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Harry murmured sleepily, before his eyes popped open and he turned sharply to look at the other man who was grinning unrepentantly. “What?” the wizard said, deadpan, “was that?”
Sam’s grin widened. “It woke you up, didn’t it?” he said, laughing. “Dean’s out like a light down stairs.”
“And you’re keeping secrets from him,” the now-awake Harry said. “This have something to do with the demon in you?” Sam’s grin dropped off his face and he paled, suddenly stiff in Harry’s arms. “I have wards for a reason,” the wizard reminded him gently. “I knew the moment you walked through the door.”
Though Sam knew Harry wouldn’t spill his secrets, especially not to someone he’d known for less than twenty-four hours, the youngest Winchester shivered under Harry’s gaze. He wasn’t afraid to meet the wizards eyes, they’d Soul Gazed long ago, and the danger had already passed, but the confused recrimination he was certain to find there was terrifying enough. “It’s...something that I’ve had to do. Something...to defeat Lilith.”
“The enemy of my enemy, hm?” Harry mused. “Look. I can’t say I’m pleased with you, especially considering how the wards fluttered when you walked in. But,” he added when Sam’s face fell, “I want you to have Bob research this demon. And what may or may not be happening to you. Got it?”
“Yeah,” Sam said. “I got it.”
Trying to placate him, Harry nuzzled into the hollow of Sam’s throat, feeling his pulse beating rapidly there. Laying a gentle kiss on the bronzed skin, he murmured, “go to sleep Sam. I’m not angry with you.”
Sighing, Sam wrapped his long arms around Harry and drifted off to sleep. They had a lot of work to do in the morning.
-
By noon, Dean had five devils traps down, one at the floor of Harry’s front door, covered by a throw rug they’d found somewhere in a box, and one on the ceiling, a mirror image. He laid the same at the back door, and one under the stairs leading down to the lab.
Sam had mixed salt in with the paint and had begun tracing the modified wards around the office, living area, and lab. That was what Murphy walked in on, just a little before one in the afternoon. “What the hell?” she said, stopping at the doorway. She stood there frozen for so long a moment that Dean whispered, “christo” just to make sure.
“Harry ” she called instead of answering, stepping out of the circle and into the office. “There are strange men in your office painting things and talking in bad latin ”
The man in question leaned over the balcony of his bedroom. “I know ” he called back. “We’re...renovating.”
“Renovating,” she repeated. “With pentagrams and paint?”
He smiled angelically at her. “It’s all the rage. Hold on a sec, Murph, I’ll be right down.” A few seconds later, he clattered down the stairs and jogged into the office. “Anyone seen the cat?” he wondered.
“Is that some sort of non-sequitur?” Murphy growled. “Dresden, I want answers.” She eyed Sam and Dean. “Starting with the guy who isn’t Sam.”
The younger Winchester waved sheepishly. “Hey, Murphy.”
“The idiot in the corner is his brother,” Harry said. “I told you about him the other day.” She nodded, giving them both significant looks.
“They’ve been helping me on the case.” Murphy gave him her full attention and Harry gestured to the desk. “I found his body. But,” he warned when she opened her mouth, “you can’t get to it. It’s pulled a Whomping Willow.”
“You hate Harry Potter.”
He gave her a flatly unimpressed look. “I know. Doesn’t make what happened any less true.” She suppressed a chuckle. “The boys over there, found that Cavin’s blood is on the red ribbon around Patricia Alloui’s neck. And that Louis seems to have...eaten...at least a part of him.”
Murphy looked a little green around the gills. “...Oh shit,” she swore softly. “How are we going to get any of that as evidence?”
“If we can get the ribbon that would at least place Patricia at the scene of the crime,” Harry said thoughtfully. “Sam, Dean, any ideas on the amazing, moving tree?”
“We’ll check it out after we finish w-uh, redecorating,” Dean said. “Which park?”
Harry scribbled down the directions while Murphy called Kirmani and told him to pick up the wife on some faked charge. They argued for a moment before Murphy clearly won the argument by hanging up on her overzealous partner.
“I need to get back,” Murphy said, “I’ll call you when we get the ribbon off her.”
“Thanks, Murph.”
She waved to Sam and exited without comment, and Dean sighed with relief. “Dude, you’ve got some serious balls to be working with the police.”
Harry snorted. “I don’t have a record,” he reminded Dean with a smile. “I’d stay out of her partner’s way though. Kirmani can be a douchebag.”
When Sam emerged from the lab twenty minutes later, he had paint on the end of his nose. Both Dean and Harry hid a smile from him and looked away, which Sam took immediate notice of. “What?” he said.
“Nothing, Sammy,” Dean said, still grinning. “Lets get you cleaned up and we can check out the park with the Whomping Willow.”
“I am never,” Harry said, his voice heartfelt, “going to live that down.”
*
“The Demon they face is a powerful one,” Bob said from behind Harry. “Her name is Lilith, and in folklore, she was the first wife of Adam.” Harry winced. “Exactly. We have a lot of conflicting information about her, but I do know that she herself is a Seal, just like your Grace is.”
“A Seal herself? Stars and stones.” Harry rubbed a tired hand across his brow. “Sam thinks he needs to destroy her.”
“That is disturbing news,” Bob murmured gravely. “The demon that he has been...seeing, Ruby, her name, she was an underling of Lilith’s once upon a time ago, and is not to be trusted. You need to get that demon blood out of your Sam as soon as possible.”
“Shit,” he swore. “This is not good. How do we do that?”
Bob looked smug. “Look in my Grimoire from the 1300s,” he said. “I have a cleansing spell in there.”
Harry raised a single eyebrow. “Your Grimoire has a cleansing spell?” he asked pointedly.
The ghost shrugged immaterial shoulders. “I had to purge myself somehow,” he said. “You think I wanted to walk around with all that demon blood in me?” He shuddered delicately. “Red Courts are little better.”
“This situation keeps getting better and better,” Harry muttered. “All right, I’ll look up the spell. Anything else I should know?”
“Yes,” Bob murmured. “Dean is jealous of you.”
Harry swivelled to face him. “What?” he asked blankly. “He is not.”
Bob snorted, wrapping one arm around himself to rest his elbow on. “Harry, I realize that you are quite blind to the matters of the heart, but certainly you aren’t that oblivious?” Harry merely blinked at him. “Dean woke before either you or Sam this morning, Harry,” Bob said, succeeding at keeping any sadness out of his tone. “He couldn’t find his brother and panicked, going up the stairs to find you. Well. He found a bit more than that, hm?”
“We didn’t do anything,” Harry said automatically. “We were just sleeping.”
Bob gave him a significant look. “Harry, if someone else was just sleeping with Susan how would you feel?” he asked, pointedly.
“I’d hate it,” was the immediate answer. “Stars and stones,” he murmured right after, awed. “That explains a lot.” He lowered himself into the chair before him, rubbing his mouth with one hand. “You think that Dean has feelings for Sam?”
Though Bob clearly couldn’t have been leaning on the wall, he gave the illusion of lounging gracefully to answer. “Yes,” he said slowly, “I believe that his feelings are reciprocated,” he added. “When Sam was here, and your relationship blossomed, Sam didn’t touch you nearly so much as he does now. I believe he is making a point.”
“You’re probably right.” He tapped a long finger against his desk. “So what do I do?”
Bob smiled. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
Well. That was disgustingly unhelpful. Harry raised an eyebrow. “You seriously want me to pretend that I won’t be noticing?”
For a ghost, Harry thought, Bob sure sighed a lot. “No,” he said patiently. “I want you to notice and pretend to not care.”
That logic was infinitely beyond him. “Uh. Why?”
“Because it will, as you say, piss Dean off. Perhaps enough to say and do something about his painfully obvious attraction.”
At this, Harry finally laid down his objection. “You realize they are brothers, right?” he asked carefully.
Bob waved an elegant hand. “Yes, but who else do they have? Who else could either of them say they trusted implicitly other than the other? Who else understands what they have been through? Who else will always be there?”
Harry studied Bob silently for a long moment. He’d been taught under Bob for years, almost twenty five, and had long since learned to discern Bob’s mercurial moods. Bob, for all intents and purposes, was hiding something. Though it was impossible for the ghost and the wizard to Soul Gaze, Bob’s eyes were downcast, staring at the floor. There were tight lines at the corner of his eyes, and his mouth was drawn ever so slightly, betraying himself. “Sounds a bit like you and I,” Harry said, only half joking.
Bob’s head came up instantly. “A bit, yes, except for we are not brothers. And I,” he added painfully, “am dead.”
With that, the conversation ended, and Bob dissolved into orange and black motes of dust and fire, swirling away into his cold, lonely and empty skull.
“Stars. And. Stones ” Harry growled, before heading into the lab to do some last minute research. Who knew when that Angel - Angel - was going to come back. There was just too much to do.
And they had no food in the house.
Or money.
And the damn cat was still missing
*
The leaves of the Juniper tree were rustling. It wasn’t exactly a strange phenomenon, as Chicago was called the windy city for a reason, but the leaves were rustling in the opposite direction of the blowing wind. “All right,” Dean said when the tree came into view, “that’s just scary.”
Dryly Sam said, “are you going to start bitching about how we never deal with nice trees?”
“No,” Dean replied sourly. “I was talking about the bleeding bark.” He pointed, and in between the knobs of bark, dark red blood oozed down the trunk into the mud. “I feel like we’re in Sleepy Hollow or something.”
Sam didn’t respond, he just rolled his eyes, and took a step forward into the mud. The tree reacted violently and slammed a thick branch into his chest. Sam flew backwards, and Dean pulled out his gun and shot at the center of the tree.
The sound that emerged was like nothing either of the Winchesters had ever heard before. It was the sound of trees screaming, breaking, bending, and the center of the tree opened up and, vomiting noxious red liquid, exposed the screaming head of Cavin Alloui.
It was clear that the body of the boy had been sucked up into the tree, though there was flesh missing from his arms, they were splayed out at ninety degree angles, surrounded entirely by wood pulp and bark. His waist was cut away, but the tree encircled it. Blood oozed from the boys wounds, and the frightening cadavers head twisted this way, and that with pain.
“Holy shit,” Dean breathed. The head came up, a parody of life in its death glazed eyes.
“Help me,” the boys mouth said. “Help me.”
Then the tree wrapped in on itself and the leaves twitched again.
It was obvious that it was a warning.
Sam limped back to Dean’s position just outside the circle of mud. “That,” Sam said, wheezing, “sucked.”
“Anything broken, Sammy?” Dean asked automatically, relaxing when Sam shook his head. “So what do we do about...?” he gestured. “Can we even do a salt and burn?”
“I don’t know,” Sam murmured. “I’ll look up the tree in one of the libraries. Look, there, on the center part of the trunk? There’s a spray painted red x. This tree was once marked for being cut down.”
Dean looked at it for a moment. “It’s clearly a healthy tree.”
“So why was it marked for demolition? Exactly.”
They backed away from the tree as it rustled another warning before falling still. The last they saw of it before turning around and leaving the park was a dove landing on the top most branches. They heard the crunch and the squawk after.
“Do you even know how to get to the library, Sammy?” Dean asked, as they got into the impala.
“Um. No, but it shouldn’t be that hard.”
They found the library with little trouble and Sam immediately burrowed himself into the reference section. Dean surfed around on the internet for a while, quickly growing bored with waiting.
A few college girls wandered by him, giggling when he followed their movements with his eyes. Until Sam dropped something in front of him. “Look,” Sam said urgently.
A newspaper lay there, the date only marked several weeks beforehand on the top of the corner. The picture of the dead tree looked up at him. “It’s a Juniper tree,” Dean said dumbly. “And it was dead less than a week ago.”
Another book fell in front of him. “Grimms fairy tales,” Dean murmured. “Grimms fairy tales? Shit ” He opened the book to the marked page and read it quickly. “The Juniper Tree, blah blah blah...mother killed the son, fed him to the father...and oh god...” He looked up at Sam in horror. “You think the mother?”
“I know the mother did it.”
“Shit ” Dean swore again. “We should take this back to Dresden.”
Sam couldn’t imagine that Harry was going to be pleased with their findings.
He wasn’t wrong.
*End
| Part One | Part Three | Part Four |
Author: ‘Drea/placeofinsanity
Rating: R (for gore, some language and implied sexual content)
Word Count: 12,370 (bitches )
Kink: Endearments, loss of control, magical themes...
Fandoms: Supernatural/The Dresden Files
Pairing: Harry/Bob, Harry/Sam, Sam/Dean
Summary: “We’re asking for help from a wizard who advertises in the yellowpages? ”
Thanks To: My lovely betas: thebunnybag , asexyzombie , rayn_firehawk and sixthbrightest
Artist: aramuin , thank you so much for the AMAZING art.
Notes: I hate Season Four Ruby. I hate her. This is your only warning. Also, the kinks are kind of hidden. Have fun finding them.
Part Two
The Angel
Sam went to knock on the door of Louis Alloui’s suburban home, but Dean caught his wrist just before his knuckles hit. “You really just trust that Dresden guy?” he muttered. “You seem to just follow his orders.”
“I’m not just following...” Sam sighed and turned to face his brother. “I know him Dean, he’s trustworthy.”
“That’s just it, Sam How do you know him?”
Grunting in frustration, Sam pulled Dean back towards the car and out of ear shot of the doorway. “Look, when I was trying to get to Standford, I hitch-hiked for the wrong guy. Harry just happened to be there and got me out of what could have been a really bad situation.” Dean raised an eyebrow, clearing wanting to know what the situation was. “You don’t need to know what,” Sam said firmly. “Just know that Harry saved my life.”
Dean pursed his lips. “All right Sammy. If you’re sure.”
“I am, Dean. Promise.”
Sam did not want to be reminded of the night that Harry had to save him from the drunken truckers. The whole experience, in his mind, was easily forgotten. He was certainly not going to tell his brother. Ever.
Dean fell silent, but kept brooding quietly, his face set in an impassive scowl. Sam smacked him hard in the arm. “If you keep making that face,” he growled, “you’re going to scare them.” He knocked before Dean could make a protest, grinning smugly when the expression smoothed away.
Patricia opened the door. “Can I help you?” she asked, her voice trembling, and her eyes red.
Dean’s nostrils flared when she leaned in close, and Sam gave him a perplexed look. “We’re associates of Harry Dresden, I believe you met him this morning?” Sam said, when Dean didn’t say anything.
“Oh, yes...” Patricia murmured faintly. “Please, come in.” They followed her through the door and into the sitting room. “Has he found the boy?”
“...No,” Sam lied, “we just had a few more questions for you.” She nodded at them to go on. “Did Cavin get bullied at school?” he asked, and Patricia shook her head rapidly.
“Everyone loved Cavin. And I know that most people say that about children who were being bullied, but he had lots of friends.”
Dean’s nose twitched again and he sneezed. “Sorry, excuse me. Mrs. Alloui, does your husband have any enemies? Anyone that might want to hurt him or his family?”
She took her time answering that one. “Not that I know of. I can get him?”
The eldest Winchester smiled charmingly. “Please.”
Once the woman had left, Sam turned to Dean and gave him another confused look. “What’s up with you?” he asked.
“Menthol,” Dean murmured. “She’s covered in menthol. I’d bet my life that those tears aren’t real, she’s using a glycerin stick.”
Sam grinned. “Good...nose.” He frowned a little at the phrasing but erased the expression when Louis and Patricia entered the room. It was then that he made his move. Sam opened his curled fist and let the two shards of vibrating crystal out.
One flung itself at Louis’ stomach, and the other at the ribbon around Patricia’s neck.
The Professor had been right.
Louis Alloui had eaten his own son.
Right.
*
Harry limped into his office several hours after Sam and Dean had returned. He was dripping blood and mud everywhere, and figured that he’d cracked a rib or two.
Sam gaped when he walked through the door. “Shit, Harry. What the hell happened to you?”
“I got turned into Harry Potter,” he grunted, collapsing into his rickety desk chair. “The Juniper Tree that The Professor showed us? Whomped the willow right out of me.”
Sam winced. “Here, lets get to the lab, I’m sure Bob will want to look at those bruises.”
“I’ve had worse,” Harry protested. “Besides its not like he can really do much, other than make sure I’m not bleeding internally.”
“Yes,” Sam said, snippy, “and the last time you refused him, you were in fact, bleeding internally.”
Dean whistled under his breath. “You get into a lot of trouble, don’t you Dresden?” Harry’s grin was a little pained. “Dude, and I thought Sam was bad.”
Harry turned to give Sam a Look, he’d learned it from Murphy; it was the stare you could only perfect if you’ve been given it more that twenty times in your life. Sam squirmed, and shot Dean a glare. Dean was more than happy to extrapolate on Sam’s many problems. “You shot me in the chest with rock salt, you’ve picked up a Demon groupie, the Angels hate you...” Dean rattled off, grinning to show his brother he didn’t really mean it.
Irked, Sam scowled. “Ghost disease,” he said succinctly.
Harry snorted, breaking the suddenly tense moment. “You two are worse than me combined.” He paused, turning to look at Dean. “Angels?”
“Yeah I have an Angel,” he gloated. “Well, it was a little freaky at first, because he definitely Touched By an Angel’ed at me, but Castiel is pretty cool.”
“Angels,” Harry muttered. “We don’t get Lord-y mumbo jumbo around here for decades then you have to go and screw it all...up.” He trailed off when Power slammed into his wards and the foundation blazed white - white? They usually blazed red when he was under....attack...
Standing in the middle of the room, clutching a hand over his heart, stood a man with wings. “Castiel!” Sam cried, surprised.
“That’s your Angel? Does he have a pager?” Harry asked, trying for amused and only sounding brittle.
The man turned, large dark feathered wings stirring the air around him. “Sam,” he said. “What is this place? Why can’t I...” a pained look crossed his face as he tried to pull in his wings and failed.
“This is my home,” Harry said, curling one arm around his ribs. “And it is warded against intruders. Those who enter without permission leave the majority of their power at the door.” He raised one sardonic eyebrow. “That includes angels.”
Bob burst through the door a moment later, having felt the disturbance of the wards. “Cas,” Dean said as Bob drew up in shock. “What the hell?”
The angel had managed to stand up straight, though his wings twitched with every breath. “Dean, I had to come...” he panted. “You are standing on top...of a Seal.”
Slowly Harry’s eyebrows raised. “Well, duh,” he muttered. “You think I set up in the heart of Chicago for fun?”
Castiel, Dean and Sam all turned as one to look at the wizard. “You knew...that this is a Seal?”
Dresden rolled his eyes. “My lab is built over a Holy Place in Undertown. I have wards and protections all the way down to the bottom of it. Let me show you.” He jerked his chin at the only clear wall. “Bob, please.”
The ghost stepped around Sam and pressed a hand to the wall. Gold fire bled out from his palm to form the outline of the door. “The only way down is through here,” the ghost said, backing away. “Harry...if...your friend there, managed to get in, perhaps the evil he warns about can as well?”
Pinching the skin between his eyes, Harry groaned. “Stars and stones,” he growled. “Bob do you think you can come up with a better formula?”
There was clearly a smile in the ghosts voice. “Of course I can. Show your friends Undertown, and I’ll figure out the right things you need.”
Castiel, pulling his wings in as far as he could, stepped through the door followed by Sam and Dean. Harry rolled his eyes at their backs and sealed the door behind them. “Sam,” he murmured. “What did you find at the Alloui’s?”
“Louis definitely ate his own son,” Dean said grimly. “And the wife? Definitely hiding something.”
In the gloom Harry turned to look at Sam. “She was using glycerin sticks to stimulate her tear ducts,” the youngest Winchester said. “Dean noticed that she smelled like menthol.”
“You sure?” he asked Dean.
He nodded. “Well, her eyes were...shiny. Like, she’d applied lip gloss to them.”
A feather brushed Harry’s cheek when Castiel turned. “You are aware of our world? And you help them?”
Exchanging a look with Sam, Harry said, “what part of ‘I’m a Wizard’ didn’t you get?” Twitching his fingers, Harry lit the lamps with a murmured ‘fuego’ and he grinned. “This, however, is my first time really helping The Winchester boys. I’ve known Sam for a fair few years though.”
Castiel looked confused, but nodded, dipping his head. “I see.”
Harry sighed. Today was definitely not shaping up to be a good one.
The night wasn’t looking much better.
And Mister was still MIA.
*
Undertown glowed with watery-green light, though deep underground, the light came from the stones above - each stone was formed in a circle. Harry motioned for everyone to to stay put and be silent. He pressed his hands into the greenish light and parted it. It closed like a curtain around him though he was still visible.
The light intensified until it was too bright to see and when it faded, Harry stood facing them. And impossibly, a huge set of white wings was supported behind him. The three spectators stood transfixed, until Harry moved and destroyed the illusion.
The wings hung there, in the wintry light. “Whose...?” Castiel asked, his own wings shivering.
Harry spread his hands, words appearing in a green light. “These are the Wings of the first Fallen.”
Violently, Castiel jerked back. “Lucifer ” he hissed.
The light winked out and Harry stepped back through the circle. “Yes,” he said gravely. “This is where he Fell. All the Wardens know of it. I just happen to be Warden of Chicago now.”
“So all the evil?” Castiel murmured, “all the wrong? It is caused by his Grace?”
The curtain of green light closed, and the image behind the circle was lost. “Don’t worry, Angel,” Harry said sassily, “no one can get to it without their power intact. You couldn’t even get through my wards without mishap.”
“But Lilith will be here,” Dean said. “Right?”
Again Harry rubbed his temples, and said, “I think you’re going to have a lot of explaining to do.”
*
Harry rolled over in surprise when a body got into bed with him. The clock on his bedside table stated it was four in the morning, he’d only been there for about two or so hours. “Sam?” he murmured sleepily. “Everything good?”
“I have something to confess...” Sam whispered against his neck. “You aren’t going to like it.”
Harry pulled the covers up over them and curled up. “Then tell me,” he yawned, “in the morning.”
Sam chuckled, leaving a kiss against the warm skin of his back. “Kissing now, talking later?” he repeated, amused. Harry grunted.
“Too tired to kiss,” he murmured into the pillow.
Warmth bled up his spine as Sam arched against him, rubbing his hips into Harry’s. “Too tired for this too?”
“We have no walls,” Harry reminded. “And now we have more than Bob.”
Sam’s hand slid around his hip. “Maybe Dean will join.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Harry murmured sleepily, before his eyes popped open and he turned sharply to look at the other man who was grinning unrepentantly. “What?” the wizard said, deadpan, “was that?”
Sam’s grin widened. “It woke you up, didn’t it?” he said, laughing. “Dean’s out like a light down stairs.”
“And you’re keeping secrets from him,” the now-awake Harry said. “This have something to do with the demon in you?” Sam’s grin dropped off his face and he paled, suddenly stiff in Harry’s arms. “I have wards for a reason,” the wizard reminded him gently. “I knew the moment you walked through the door.”
Though Sam knew Harry wouldn’t spill his secrets, especially not to someone he’d known for less than twenty-four hours, the youngest Winchester shivered under Harry’s gaze. He wasn’t afraid to meet the wizards eyes, they’d Soul Gazed long ago, and the danger had already passed, but the confused recrimination he was certain to find there was terrifying enough. “It’s...something that I’ve had to do. Something...to defeat Lilith.”
“The enemy of my enemy, hm?” Harry mused. “Look. I can’t say I’m pleased with you, especially considering how the wards fluttered when you walked in. But,” he added when Sam’s face fell, “I want you to have Bob research this demon. And what may or may not be happening to you. Got it?”
“Yeah,” Sam said. “I got it.”
Trying to placate him, Harry nuzzled into the hollow of Sam’s throat, feeling his pulse beating rapidly there. Laying a gentle kiss on the bronzed skin, he murmured, “go to sleep Sam. I’m not angry with you.”
Sighing, Sam wrapped his long arms around Harry and drifted off to sleep. They had a lot of work to do in the morning.
-
By noon, Dean had five devils traps down, one at the floor of Harry’s front door, covered by a throw rug they’d found somewhere in a box, and one on the ceiling, a mirror image. He laid the same at the back door, and one under the stairs leading down to the lab.
Sam had mixed salt in with the paint and had begun tracing the modified wards around the office, living area, and lab. That was what Murphy walked in on, just a little before one in the afternoon. “What the hell?” she said, stopping at the doorway. She stood there frozen for so long a moment that Dean whispered, “christo” just to make sure.
“Harry ” she called instead of answering, stepping out of the circle and into the office. “There are strange men in your office painting things and talking in bad latin ”
The man in question leaned over the balcony of his bedroom. “I know ” he called back. “We’re...renovating.”
“Renovating,” she repeated. “With pentagrams and paint?”
He smiled angelically at her. “It’s all the rage. Hold on a sec, Murph, I’ll be right down.” A few seconds later, he clattered down the stairs and jogged into the office. “Anyone seen the cat?” he wondered.
“Is that some sort of non-sequitur?” Murphy growled. “Dresden, I want answers.” She eyed Sam and Dean. “Starting with the guy who isn’t Sam.”
The younger Winchester waved sheepishly. “Hey, Murphy.”
“The idiot in the corner is his brother,” Harry said. “I told you about him the other day.” She nodded, giving them both significant looks.
“They’ve been helping me on the case.” Murphy gave him her full attention and Harry gestured to the desk. “I found his body. But,” he warned when she opened her mouth, “you can’t get to it. It’s pulled a Whomping Willow.”
“You hate Harry Potter.”
He gave her a flatly unimpressed look. “I know. Doesn’t make what happened any less true.” She suppressed a chuckle. “The boys over there, found that Cavin’s blood is on the red ribbon around Patricia Alloui’s neck. And that Louis seems to have...eaten...at least a part of him.”
Murphy looked a little green around the gills. “...Oh shit,” she swore softly. “How are we going to get any of that as evidence?”
“If we can get the ribbon that would at least place Patricia at the scene of the crime,” Harry said thoughtfully. “Sam, Dean, any ideas on the amazing, moving tree?”
“We’ll check it out after we finish w-uh, redecorating,” Dean said. “Which park?”
Harry scribbled down the directions while Murphy called Kirmani and told him to pick up the wife on some faked charge. They argued for a moment before Murphy clearly won the argument by hanging up on her overzealous partner.
“I need to get back,” Murphy said, “I’ll call you when we get the ribbon off her.”
“Thanks, Murph.”
She waved to Sam and exited without comment, and Dean sighed with relief. “Dude, you’ve got some serious balls to be working with the police.”
Harry snorted. “I don’t have a record,” he reminded Dean with a smile. “I’d stay out of her partner’s way though. Kirmani can be a douchebag.”
When Sam emerged from the lab twenty minutes later, he had paint on the end of his nose. Both Dean and Harry hid a smile from him and looked away, which Sam took immediate notice of. “What?” he said.
“Nothing, Sammy,” Dean said, still grinning. “Lets get you cleaned up and we can check out the park with the Whomping Willow.”
“I am never,” Harry said, his voice heartfelt, “going to live that down.”
*
“The Demon they face is a powerful one,” Bob said from behind Harry. “Her name is Lilith, and in folklore, she was the first wife of Adam.” Harry winced. “Exactly. We have a lot of conflicting information about her, but I do know that she herself is a Seal, just like your Grace is.”
“A Seal herself? Stars and stones.” Harry rubbed a tired hand across his brow. “Sam thinks he needs to destroy her.”
“That is disturbing news,” Bob murmured gravely. “The demon that he has been...seeing, Ruby, her name, she was an underling of Lilith’s once upon a time ago, and is not to be trusted. You need to get that demon blood out of your Sam as soon as possible.”
“Shit,” he swore. “This is not good. How do we do that?”
Bob looked smug. “Look in my Grimoire from the 1300s,” he said. “I have a cleansing spell in there.”
Harry raised a single eyebrow. “Your Grimoire has a cleansing spell?” he asked pointedly.
The ghost shrugged immaterial shoulders. “I had to purge myself somehow,” he said. “You think I wanted to walk around with all that demon blood in me?” He shuddered delicately. “Red Courts are little better.”
“This situation keeps getting better and better,” Harry muttered. “All right, I’ll look up the spell. Anything else I should know?”
“Yes,” Bob murmured. “Dean is jealous of you.”
Harry swivelled to face him. “What?” he asked blankly. “He is not.”
Bob snorted, wrapping one arm around himself to rest his elbow on. “Harry, I realize that you are quite blind to the matters of the heart, but certainly you aren’t that oblivious?” Harry merely blinked at him. “Dean woke before either you or Sam this morning, Harry,” Bob said, succeeding at keeping any sadness out of his tone. “He couldn’t find his brother and panicked, going up the stairs to find you. Well. He found a bit more than that, hm?”
“We didn’t do anything,” Harry said automatically. “We were just sleeping.”
Bob gave him a significant look. “Harry, if someone else was just sleeping with Susan how would you feel?” he asked, pointedly.
“I’d hate it,” was the immediate answer. “Stars and stones,” he murmured right after, awed. “That explains a lot.” He lowered himself into the chair before him, rubbing his mouth with one hand. “You think that Dean has feelings for Sam?”
Though Bob clearly couldn’t have been leaning on the wall, he gave the illusion of lounging gracefully to answer. “Yes,” he said slowly, “I believe that his feelings are reciprocated,” he added. “When Sam was here, and your relationship blossomed, Sam didn’t touch you nearly so much as he does now. I believe he is making a point.”
“You’re probably right.” He tapped a long finger against his desk. “So what do I do?”
Bob smiled. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
Well. That was disgustingly unhelpful. Harry raised an eyebrow. “You seriously want me to pretend that I won’t be noticing?”
For a ghost, Harry thought, Bob sure sighed a lot. “No,” he said patiently. “I want you to notice and pretend to not care.”
That logic was infinitely beyond him. “Uh. Why?”
“Because it will, as you say, piss Dean off. Perhaps enough to say and do something about his painfully obvious attraction.”
At this, Harry finally laid down his objection. “You realize they are brothers, right?” he asked carefully.
Bob waved an elegant hand. “Yes, but who else do they have? Who else could either of them say they trusted implicitly other than the other? Who else understands what they have been through? Who else will always be there?”
Harry studied Bob silently for a long moment. He’d been taught under Bob for years, almost twenty five, and had long since learned to discern Bob’s mercurial moods. Bob, for all intents and purposes, was hiding something. Though it was impossible for the ghost and the wizard to Soul Gaze, Bob’s eyes were downcast, staring at the floor. There were tight lines at the corner of his eyes, and his mouth was drawn ever so slightly, betraying himself. “Sounds a bit like you and I,” Harry said, only half joking.
Bob’s head came up instantly. “A bit, yes, except for we are not brothers. And I,” he added painfully, “am dead.”
With that, the conversation ended, and Bob dissolved into orange and black motes of dust and fire, swirling away into his cold, lonely and empty skull.
“Stars. And. Stones ” Harry growled, before heading into the lab to do some last minute research. Who knew when that Angel - Angel - was going to come back. There was just too much to do.
And they had no food in the house.
Or money.
And the damn cat was still missing
*
The leaves of the Juniper tree were rustling. It wasn’t exactly a strange phenomenon, as Chicago was called the windy city for a reason, but the leaves were rustling in the opposite direction of the blowing wind. “All right,” Dean said when the tree came into view, “that’s just scary.”
Dryly Sam said, “are you going to start bitching about how we never deal with nice trees?”
“No,” Dean replied sourly. “I was talking about the bleeding bark.” He pointed, and in between the knobs of bark, dark red blood oozed down the trunk into the mud. “I feel like we’re in Sleepy Hollow or something.”
Sam didn’t respond, he just rolled his eyes, and took a step forward into the mud. The tree reacted violently and slammed a thick branch into his chest. Sam flew backwards, and Dean pulled out his gun and shot at the center of the tree.
The sound that emerged was like nothing either of the Winchesters had ever heard before. It was the sound of trees screaming, breaking, bending, and the center of the tree opened up and, vomiting noxious red liquid, exposed the screaming head of Cavin Alloui.
It was clear that the body of the boy had been sucked up into the tree, though there was flesh missing from his arms, they were splayed out at ninety degree angles, surrounded entirely by wood pulp and bark. His waist was cut away, but the tree encircled it. Blood oozed from the boys wounds, and the frightening cadavers head twisted this way, and that with pain.
“Holy shit,” Dean breathed. The head came up, a parody of life in its death glazed eyes.
“Help me,” the boys mouth said. “Help me.”
Then the tree wrapped in on itself and the leaves twitched again.
It was obvious that it was a warning.
Sam limped back to Dean’s position just outside the circle of mud. “That,” Sam said, wheezing, “sucked.”
“Anything broken, Sammy?” Dean asked automatically, relaxing when Sam shook his head. “So what do we do about...?” he gestured. “Can we even do a salt and burn?”
“I don’t know,” Sam murmured. “I’ll look up the tree in one of the libraries. Look, there, on the center part of the trunk? There’s a spray painted red x. This tree was once marked for being cut down.”
Dean looked at it for a moment. “It’s clearly a healthy tree.”
“So why was it marked for demolition? Exactly.”
They backed away from the tree as it rustled another warning before falling still. The last they saw of it before turning around and leaving the park was a dove landing on the top most branches. They heard the crunch and the squawk after.
“Do you even know how to get to the library, Sammy?” Dean asked, as they got into the impala.
“Um. No, but it shouldn’t be that hard.”
They found the library with little trouble and Sam immediately burrowed himself into the reference section. Dean surfed around on the internet for a while, quickly growing bored with waiting.
A few college girls wandered by him, giggling when he followed their movements with his eyes. Until Sam dropped something in front of him. “Look,” Sam said urgently.
A newspaper lay there, the date only marked several weeks beforehand on the top of the corner. The picture of the dead tree looked up at him. “It’s a Juniper tree,” Dean said dumbly. “And it was dead less than a week ago.”
Another book fell in front of him. “Grimms fairy tales,” Dean murmured. “Grimms fairy tales? Shit ” He opened the book to the marked page and read it quickly. “The Juniper Tree, blah blah blah...mother killed the son, fed him to the father...and oh god...” He looked up at Sam in horror. “You think the mother?”
“I know the mother did it.”
“Shit ” Dean swore again. “We should take this back to Dresden.”
Sam couldn’t imagine that Harry was going to be pleased with their findings.
He wasn’t wrong.
*End
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