Author's notes: My father has been very ill and I was stressed and uninspired. To make up for the large wait time, this is a very long chapter which I hope you will enjoy. and hopefully updates will be a bit quicker from now on.

Warnings: Implied teacher perversion. Pretty tame.

00—Chapter Nine—00—

After School Special

Bobby was half asleep when he heard the intruder.

The odd squeaky pop reverberated around his house, snapping him abruptly into consciousness and sending his hand to his gun.

It was a reflex to grab his gun, one honed by years of fear and danger and the familiar handle was a heavy and comforting weight in his hand as he swung his legs over the edge of his bed and started silently down the stairs, stepping over the loose floorboards and around the creaking nails until he was stood, poised at the entrance to the kitchen with his gun cocked

Bobby had been woken up too many times by demons seeking blood and death and vengeance to ever sleep peacefully but he didn't expect to barrage into his kitchen to see a small, hunched over shadow flinch away from his presence and crouch behind his table, staring up at him with owl like green eyes, full of wary, apprehensive resignation. Déjà vu hit like a bullet.

Bobby had only ever seen one person with eyes like that.

Harry's pale, familiar face was glowing white in the darkness of the kitchen, looking bruised with weariness and a full of a familiar tumult of old, worn out emotion. "Bobby?" he asked hesitantly, uncertainly and uncurled from his defensive knot of sharp limbs.

Bobby was oddly glad as he stared at the familiar form that his large wooden table was still between them, separating them. It was hard enough seeing the dimly lit outline of the boy without getting too close to see the false emotion in his eyes. His gun felt cold against his fingers as he lifted it up again and pointed it at Harry's head. "What are you, why are you here."

Emerald eyes blinked blankly at him and for the first time Bobby noticed that the white's of the man's eyes were raw and red veined as if he'd been crying and he was dressed in clothes that were too long and too large for his painfully thin form, the material drooping over his fingertips and slung low, hanging off the sharp edges of his hip bones.

"It's me, Harry," the boy's voice was quiet and cracking as if he was tired or hurt and Bobby felt his heart ache even as his brain told him just to shot the demon, or whatever it was that was masquerading as the younger man.

He clicked the safety catch off the shotgun. "You're not Harry."

Green eyes widened in alarm and the man stumbled back a step in surprise, his hips hitting the counter with a crack. "I am!" he croaked, "I was just with Dean and Sam."

"Harry's the vessel for an angel, why should I believe you're him and not some shapeshifter or demon?"

If it was a demon it had certainly done a good job Bobby thought, he had all the mannerism right all those little quirks that only once you were familiar with someone you noticed, but Bobby had lived long enough not to hope too much. His Harry, the kid he had fed and clothed and thought of as a son all those years ago was further away from him than his dead wife. Angels didn't just let people go and live their own lives and Castiel had made it clear that Harry didn't think much of him anyway.

"Because I remember living here, I remember how you acted like we were having conversations even though I refused to talk for a month. I remember the room, my room at the top the house; it has salted metal plates that you put behind the wallpaper because I told you I was scared they would come and get me while I slept."

The man's voice quivered and his fingers were bone- white as he gripped the edges of the table, swaying forward. "Your wife died but you've never stopped saying goodnight to her and every night you held me when I had nightmares but never once asked why I had them, even though I think you probably guessed anyway."

Bobby felt his certainty waver and his gun wobbled in accordance; no one but him and Harry had been there for those memories and he had never told anyone about his time with the boy.

"You saw my magic," Harry lifted a hand and the pale flesh glittered with a burst of golden sparks that ran down the length of skin between his elbow and wrist before shimmering away to nothing around his knuckles, leaving the skin golden and glittery. "You didn't do anything because I told you it protected me and you said..."

"Looks like no one else ever did." Bobby repeated hollowly and Harry wide eyed panic dimmed and he looked away with blushing embarrassment.

"I came here because my magic brought me here. I don't have anywhere else."

Bobby dropped the gun and strode around the table in three massive, desperate steps; sweeping up the boy in the hug he'd waited for since Harry had disappeared. The younger man was all bird bones and quivering tendons against him and even as Bobby winced at how fragile Harry felt in the circle of his arms, something in his chest that'd he long forgotten was even there released and relaxed and his breath came easier than it had in a long time.

"Bobby, I'm so sorry. Everything's so messed up and I don't know what to do." Harry whispered brokenly into the scratchy material of his shirt and Bobby held him tighter at his broken confession, rewarded when he felt the kid hesitantly reach up to return the hug, his thin hands curling up into white knuckled fists at his back. It still saddened him to realise how unfamiliar Harry was with hugs.

Sighing, Bobby released him, holding him at arm's length to stare at him critically, taking in the starved edges of his face and the circles of bruises pressed beneath his eyes. Harry cheeks were flushed with the remains of fever and the clothes he was wearing drooped with excessive material. Bobby felt a grin tug at his lips, "Boy, what the hell are you wearing?"

Harry pulled a face and it was like no time had passed since he'd left, he certainly still had the look of skinny, unfinished teenage and his face had barely aged a day; still hairless and unlined despite the broken maturity of his eyes. For a moment Bobby held the unrealistic fantasy that they could just pick up where they'd left, that Harry would slip back into his life and his home as if he'd never left. It was stupid really, but even Bobby was allowed to dream.

"Dean's clothes," Harry answered and even Bobby didn't miss the familiarity in the way Harry said Dean's name.

Bobby quirked an eyebrow, "Do I want to know?"

Harry's cheeks flushed bright red, "I didn't have any others! He lent me them."

"Uh huh..."

-00—

"You know I'm getting really sick of not knowing where people are."

The look Sam was sending Dean; face soft and bright with sympathy was one that his brother usually directed at distressed victims and mothers, but it felt odd, a little too strained and vacant as if his brother wasn't quite there. "Don't worry we'll find him." Sam replied quietly and stared past him to the hazy midday landscape of sun soaked metal and rust flaked gravel of Bobby's junkyard with an expression Dean didn't understand.

Dean felt a frustrated grunt escape him and he shouldered his way angrily out the impala, "Who just disappears in the middle of nowhere anyway? What if the angels took him, they did say they'd smite him."

Sam shrugged as he got out the car and Dean watched him slowly breathe in the familiar rust filled air, "I don't know, but maybe Bobby will be able to help us."

Bobby's sun soaked junkyard was sprawled out before them in a maze of car skeletons and hot, humid air, and it was all so familiar and safe that for a moment Dean was content to just stand still and breathe in the smell of the place and bask in the relief that it created.

Harry was missing, Castiel was brain washed, his dad refused to get in contact, and Sam felt like a stranger half the time; but even so he felt something in his stomach loosen and relaxed a little with each inch he got closer to Bobby. He wasn't a kid anymore and knew Bobby was fallible and flawed and all too human, but the hunter had never failed him yet and, despite his own reality checked cynicism Dean was relieved that they were here. He was relieved to have someone to help him.

Dean stuffed his hands into his jeans and started to stride up towards the looming, white wash house. "You coming?"

"In a minute" Sam called slightly too harshly back and Dean glanced over sharply to see his brother busily hunched over his mobile before rolling his eyes in exasperation and continuing onwards to the house; leaving Sam to fade to a faint shadowy smear in the distance as he started up the porch steps.

Sam had been growly steadily more vacant ever since Harry had left, his hands twitching and his cheeks hollowing and Dean knew enough to know it had nothing really to do with Harry's disappearance or their dad's absence. He just didn't know what that left; there was too many secrets between them now-a-days.

"Hey Dean."

Harry was waiting for him, green eyes staring up at him patiently from the house's entrance and Dean wasn't all that surprised somehow. He watched silent and unmoving for a moment as Harry straightened up, content just to taking the man in, unconsciously reassuring himself that he was still in one piece, still alive.

Harry without Castiel moved different, he was oddly graceful in a thoughtless, boneless way. But the tendons in his hands were strained, pulling against the thin skin of his hands and his mouth which Dean remembered as being a coloured smear, moved and twisted with his emotions, curling at the edges of his lips in a mixture of hesitant greeting and defensive humour. "I thought you'd be here earlier."

"You disappeared." he started quietly and Harry shrugged, swaying into the doorframe and leaning into it defensively. "You disappeared." Dean repeated "I thought the angels had taken you."

"I told you the angels can't hurt me."

"Which is something else that I don't understand" Dean said sharply, feeling the relieved shock of seeing Harry alive and well fade into irritated confusion, "But you disappeared."

"I was angry." Harry's answer was brittle and Dean wondered if he was trying to convince himself or Dean. Dean had been there for Castiel's re-introduction and knew how much the angel's words had hurt Harry; he knew that it hadn't been anger that had made the man run. It was never anger that made people run; it was all the other emotions.

"And you came here?" he asked after a moment, stepping up to the porch so he had inches over Harry and other man would have to tilt his head back to stare at him in the eyes. Harry did as well, refusing to break eye contact first; but he seemed to recoil away from Dean, pressing himself into an impossibly thin line against the peeling doorframe and making Dean remember how small the other man actually was behind his bravado and hard faced glares.

"You came here." Dean repeated quieter, his voice gruff with odd hurt distance and for a moment Harry swayed forward slightly, leaning in automatically towards the broken edges of his voice, his fingers twitching to offer comfort.

"And where else would he come?" Bobby's gruff, accent heavy voice rumbled between them and they lurched away from one and other as the older hunter appeared behind Harry, one hand coming to rest in the small of the younger man's back and stare with sharp, button blue eyes at Dean. "Well, you coming in?"

Dean felt himself being stripped and seen right through as both Bobby and Harry turned to stare up at him and wondered dimly what it was they were seeing.

-00—

It was odd watching Harry and Bobby interact.

He knew they had been close; the room at the top of the house attested to that, but knowing and seeing were two entirely different things and Bobby was well, almost fussing. Bobby had always been as gruff and emotionally stunted as his father and for the first time Dean had to wonder if it had been an act of defence rather than a natural inclination or maybe there was just a lot more to Harry and Bobby's story than he could ever really hope to understand.

The two men moved around each other seamlessly, in a way that reminded him of how he and Sam had been; repeating cycles of well practised movement that spoke of long cohabitation despite that Harry had only disappeared two days ago. They plodded around Bobby's kitchen, which looked cleaner than it had looked in years and made coffee (bobby) and tea (Harry) while maintaining a level of comfortable silence only interrupted by Dean's own comments before sitting down opposite him.

In the brighter kitchen light Harry was every bit as attractive as he remembered; his face had lost all traces of fever and angelic interference and was bright with health, his skin pale gold. His cheeks were still sharp but without the strained gauntness Dean had beginning to associate with the man, but otherwise was as blade like as ever, the bones of wrists too prominent as he pushed the too long strands off his hair away from his face and his collar bones fragile and protruding in the dip of his shirt.

"You can stop staring now." Harry interrupted tartly and their gazes met for a second, Harry's expression bright and darkly amused beneath the lazy curl of his eyelashes.

"Scared you might disappear again on me." Dean meant it as a joke but his voice was harsher than he'd intended and Harry stiffened, crossing his arms defensively in one unconscious practised movement.

"Who would want to leave your charming company?" Harry voice was verging on acerbic and Dean found himself scowling back into Harry's too bright eyes, admiring the colour of them unconsciously. He'd never met anyone with eyes as green as Harry's and without Castiel's presence he sworn they seemed greener, deeper instead of the star lit emptiness of the angel's stare.

Bobby coughed and rolled his eyes, his hand cuffing Dean around the back of the head before moving round the kitchen, pausing at the window to stare outside thoughtfully. "Sam not here?"

"He's on the phone." Dean answered, glancing back to see Bobby hesitate at the window as he watched Sam, his eyes pale and thoughtful. "He said he'd follow."

Bobby fingers drummed against the frame for a moment and his eyes were trained and narrowed as his watched his brother in a way that made Dean feel a familiar defensive, protective instinct rear its head even knowing he had probably been thinking exactly the same thing as Bobby just a few hours ago.

"Bobby?" Harry asked but when Dean spun back around it was him that Harry was watching, not the older hunter and Dean felt his skin prickle uneasily. Sometimes when Harry stared at him he felt as if the younger man could see right inside his head and read all his thoughts. Dean looked away unsettled, and the conversation started up again.

Bobby shrewd, pale eyes fell on Harry, flickering thoughtfully as he gulped his coffee.

"Dean," Harry said with sudden intent and when Dean turned to him, Harry's eyes were circles of too bright, too sharp green glass that were hard against the softness of his eyelashes. "I want to come with you; to help you stop Lilith from breaking the seals, to stop Lucifer from rising."

Dean hesitated and stared at Harry, he had never hunted with someone who wasn't family or as close as and he wasn't certain about so many things about Harry; but he was their link to the angels and to his dad. "At this point we need all the help we can get, I'm not about to turn you away.

Harry's eyes didn't leave his face but his lips twisted in a crooked, mockery of a smile that Dean found himself returning. Even if neither of them were being entirely honest then they were at least acknowledging their own untruthfulness.

Bobby sighed and his forehead was full of lines of tension once again. Dean pretended not to notice when Harry reached out and pressed his hand against Bobby's forearm in a gesture of intimate comfort. Bobby reached out and grabbed Harry into a hug, tucking his chin in the dip of Harry's skinny shoulder, whispering fierce little words into the boy's hair that Dean pretended not to hear.

He wondered if his father had looked that stricken the first time he had left him behind.

-00—

Having another person hunting with them meant logistically things had to change.

Dean hadn't really thought about it when he'd agreed to Harry coming with them. He was in some ways still seeing Castiel and thought the man would disappear unless needed; except he didn't and after the first six hours Dean wondered if he would ever get used to looking into his rear view mirror and seeing Harry's big shatter glass eyes, lit up electric green by the sun and staring back at him all emotional and human.

The first night away from Bobby's was an experience as well. The hotel manager had paused and given them that 'look' when Dean had asked for two doubles and it had taken Dean a moment to remember Harry hovering hesitantly behind them, looking underage and victim-like with his too thin face and his too big eyes.

Harry had intervened and asked for a single room and the manager had asked for I.D which he hadn't been able to provide. They had had to leave hurriedly and ended up sleeping in the impala which Dean had not been happy about and had made his displeasure known before dozing into a fitful sleep.

His sleep was plagued as always by half remembered images of blood and hellfire.

Dean woke up abruptly to see Sam tapping away at his laptop on the hood of the car and Harry watching him from the back seat with dark, half mast eyes that stared at him far too knowingly.

"Is it just me you like to watch sleeping?" he asked, rubbing the sleep and hellfire from his eyes.

Harry shrugged, one sharp shoulder pressing up almost to his chin, "You were having nightmares."

Dean scowled, hating that anyone had seen him vulnerable. "Yeah, well you go to hell and we'll see how you manage."

Harry scowled right back, all traces of pity wiped away in his irritation and Dean was reminded once again this wasn't Castiel who could take his sharp comments and retorts unaffected. "That's not what I meant." The other hunter snapped at him and detangled himself from the backseat, half crawling, half rolling over into the front of the impala and nearly kicking Dean in the face in a move that Dean thought was entirely intentional.

"Sure." Dean rolled his eyes and tried to rub out the kinks from his neck, wishing they had managed to get beds last night, "Where is your I.D anyway?"

Harry glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes, the green of his irises almost luminous in the golden edges of the dawn, "I never had any, or if I did they are still in England and I haven't been out of America since I was fourteen."

Dean was almost tempted to ask about that but Harry's shoulders were tense and drawn up and Dean's eyes were locked on Harry's quivering tendons that made the glitter smeared skin of his hands taunt and his fingers curl up like claws. "I'll make you some fake ones if you like."

"Yeah?" Harry's head spun a bit too fast at that and his eyes were wide and liquid looking beneath the drooping curls of his hair. His voice was soft and hesitant and Dean almost didn't catch his mumbled "thanks", before Sam was rapping loudly on the window screen.

"Guys," Sam's smile was stretching out his features and dimming the vacant look that Dean had seen almost constantly on his brother's face for the past few days. "I found us a case and you'll never guess where it is."

-00—

"So what's up with this case?" Harry asked as Sam walked towards the entrance to Truman high.

Dean shrugged, "Geek kid drowns a cheerleader."

"You're average high-school drama then."

"It's just like High School Musical but with more blood." Dean quirked and Harry mouth rolled up into a smile that was quickly becoming familiar. "Sam thinks it's a demon possession but I just think he just wants to go back to school."

"You used to go here?" Harry asked, eyebrows rising as Sam's lumbering form reappeared at the school's entrance.

"For a couple of months," Dean drummed his fingers along the steering wheel, remembering dimly the yellowing white washed halls and the cold stares of kids who thought he was trailer trash and teachers who thought he was a thug. "This school was just one on a list of many."

Harry watched him silently, his gaze thoughtful beneath the curl of eyelashes as Sam let himself back into the front seat and Dean felt as if Harry was seeing right through all his bravado and into all those memories and feelings that high school had left him with.

"So what's our cover?" Dean asked Sam quickly, trying not to focus on the shadowed, silent stare Harry was levelling at him, "F.B.I? Homeland security? Swedish foreign exchange students?"

"I have a better idea." Sam answered slowly and smiled in a way that meant he wasn't going to like this.

-00-

"You look ridiculous"

Dean pulled at the sport's whistle around his neck and blew it sharply into the man's face, enjoying Harry's wince at the sound. "Don't talk back to your teacher."

"A gym teacher isn't a real teacher anyway" Harry replied sulkily, rubbing his ear, "And why do I have to be the student? I want a whistle."

Dean grinned and waved his own whistle tauntingly. They might have been on a hunt but despite his trepidation at having Harry tagging along it had been oddly fun so far. Harry's slightly too sharp wit slipped to almost childish humour the longer they spent together, which suited Dean just fine. It was fun having someone to banter with, especially now that his brother was so distant and irritable. Sam had so far ignored them but Dean could see the muscle in his jaw twitching and Dean was just sad he kind of expected it now.

"Because we need someone who can talk easily to the other kids and you're the only one of us that looks close to seventeen." Sam replied with forced levelness, as he climbed into his borrowed janitor's uniform.

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair nervously, "This is quite possibly the stupidest idea anyone has ever had. Why couldn't you just pretend to be F.B.I?"

Dean twirled his gym whistle around his finger even as Harry battered it away lazily and glanced over at Sam, because despite how fun it was to tease Harry about his youthful features he did have a point, there was no need to go to all this trouble.

Sam buttoned up his jumpsuit quickly. "It's all set up now, let's just do it."

"Besides," Dean said helpfully still twirling around his whistle. "The other kids will love the accent."

Harry just sighed again.

-00-

Dean liked playing at gym teacher.

He liked the power and the whistle and he kind of liked the kids as well, though he'd never admit to it. So despite the stupid outfit, he figured he'd gotten the better deal, and watching Sam plodding around mopping up sick, unclogging toilets and trying to find any trace of sulphur, only confirmed it.

Being a Gym teacher meant he also had a large portion of his day free or at least unsupervised and so he was able to keep an eye out for Harry. Despite his early teasing he was slightly worried for the younger man. Harry was in his late twenties and it didn't matter how youthful his face was, his eyes gave him away. Harry's green eyes were fierce, sharp and defensive; especially the more uncomfortable he got and from his expression that morning as he walked up through the front door, he was definitely uncomfortable. Dean hadn't met many teenagers with eyes like Harry's and he was worried someone would call him out.

But no one questioned Harry's age and Dean had been right they did love the accent. Dean had passed Harry's home room to see the man wide eyed and cornered by a gaggle of teenage girls, leaning provocatively all over him and demanding he say random words for them. A line of jealous young jocks watched, flitting between awe and jealousy and Dean found himself snickering all the way back to gym.

The next time Dean saw Harry again, he'd managed to ditch all his admirers and was following a tall, skinny girl who was balancing what looked like an entire library in her arms. She seemed vaguely confused by Harry's presence (as was Dean) and kept glancing at him from beneath the edges of eyelashes as he followed her silently.

Dean stared at Harry openly, recognising but not understanding the bittersweet longing that had painted itself across his features. The skin around Harry's eyes was pinched and puckered and his hands twitched at his sides as if he wanted to touch the girl but wouldn't allow himself. Dean felt as if he was intruding on Harry's privacy as he watched and only hesitated a moment longer before stepping out past them and drawing Harry's attention immediately.

Harry excused himself and caught up to Dean, all of his early emotion gone from his face as he fell into step beside him.

"I hate high-school," Harry huffed and Dean grinned down at him, trying to resist the urge to ruffle his curls.

"Aww. Are the other kids being mean to you?" Dean teased, automatically leading Harry towards the mostly deserted sports corridor; side stepping a young teacher who frowned at them judgmentally as he went past.

"No they love me," Harry replied glumly, "But the teachers think I'm an idiot."

Dean glanced down at him, "Why?"

Harry raised one sharp shoulder, his forehead crinkling in embarrassment. "I haven't been to school since I was fourteen. I don't know anything I'm meant to know."

Dean didn't reply straight-a-way, instead he found himself staring more intently at Harry; there was so much about the younger man he didn't know but somehow he forgot they were practically strangers, maybe it was because he was used to Harry's body walking around even if the man inside was new to him. Dean found himself biting his lip as he asked "isn't that when you came to the U.S?"

Harry nodded and his gaze was sharp and challenging, daring Dean to ask what had happened.

Dean didn't want to ask despite his curiosity. He knew from his own experience that some things couldn't be said just because other people wanted to talk about them and from what he had pieced together of Harry's life so far he guessed the truth was painful enough for it to actually be a big deal when he did decide to tell people. Dean didn't think Harry had even trusted Bobby with that knowledge yet. He wanted to know but more than that, he wanted for Harry to want to tell him. It was an odd desire and Dean didn't really want to think about the whys behind it.

Instead of trying to answer he just smiled, a crooked little half grin and asked Harry about the cheerleaders.

Their conversation quickly deteriorated into a series of bad insults and by the time the bell went for the next class Dean's face hurt from grinning and his forehead hurt from scowling. It was hard to tell if Harry actually meant anything he said, his wit could be cutting and Dean got the feeling Harry was just as confused and unsure about their friendship as he was.

Harry sighed and stared at the ceiling bleakly, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Are we nearly done yet? I don't think I can handle being a teenager for much longer."

"Sam said he couldn't find any E.M.F in the school," Dean shrugged, "Whatever happened here I don't think it was supernatural. We should be out of here by tomorrow; then we can focus on more important things."

Harry brightened a bit at that and turned to leave looking a bit lighter. He paused at the entrance to the corridor and frowned in confusion for a minute. "Oh by the way what is a homecoming? Who's coming home? And why do people want to me to be there?"

-00—

When Sam found him, his brother had blood coating his hands and sprayed down the front of his borrowed overalls. Harry slid out into to corridor seconds behind Sam, looking icily calm and hard eyed in contrast to Sam's shocked, darting expression but for the first time since Bobby's, Dean barely noticed him.

Familiar panic at seeing Sam and blood washed through him and Dean jerked forward, searching his brother for any obvious wounds. "Sammy?" he demanded

"It's not mine." Sam whispered as Dean stepped up, running his hands through the blood, feeling relief at the undamaged fabric of Sam's clothing. "Kid stuffed some jock's hand into a blender."

"It was a possession," Harry interrupted, causing both brothers to stare at him. "There was ectoplasm."

"So, we got a ghost in the building?" Dean asked.

"No E.M.F in the school," Sam frowned in confusion and Dean could literally see the wheels moving and spinning behind his eyes. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair in a sign of momentary defeat, "But maybe we can see if somebody died bloody around here or something?"

"No, not in the school," Harry interrupted, still as cold as ice and his untouched expression was enough to make Dean more than a little creeped out, he hadn't imagined Harry to be so apathetic. "The possessed boy just now and the girl that drowned the cheerleader they take the same bus and the bus just got a new driver." Harry continued calmly.

"How do you know that?" Sam asked with a frown and Dean glanced between them torn between worry for his brother and curiosity at Harry's answer.

"Gossip; you wouldn't believe how quick the kids made that connection." Harry said with a grimace. "Actually they're placing bets on which kid will snap next; they think it's some sort of 'revenge of the nerds'."

"Ghost possession," Sam rubbed his bloody hands against his legs, wincing in disgust, "It's pretty rare but if a ghost gets angry enough they can take control of a person's body. There's lore about spirits possessing people and riding them for miles, then whenever they leave the body, they're bungeed back to their usual haunt. But until then, the ghosts can go wherever they want. "

"So spook grabs a kid on the bus and walks right into Truman? Great ghosts' getting creative." Dean ran a hand across the back on his neck, rubbing at the sudden tension in his muscles.

"Do you know who the bus driver is?" Sam asked Harry and this time his voice was steady and he'd managed to wipe all traces of the blood off his face, smearing it instead along the lines of his overalls. Dean glanced at him with a wince.

"Some old guy called McGergor." Harry shrugged and would have continued but Sam had gone so tense that he seemed to suck up all the air in the hallway.

"McGregor." Sam repeated hollowly "I knew his son; Dirk McGregor."

"The kid that used to bully you?" Dean asked; the memory of his anger at someone hurting his brother coming quicker and sharper than anything else he remembered about the school. Sam nodded, still thrumming with tension, his brows drawn into a low pensive line.

Harry glanced over at Sam and tilted his head back to be able to see Sam's face properly, his eyes racking over Sam's muscular arms and his massive hands "You got bullied?" Harry asked slowly with something like suspicious disbelief and Dean felt a smile tugging hard at the corners of his lips.

Sam gave Harry twisted, half amused smile. "I didn't get my growth spurt till I was fifteen."

"It's alright Sam," Harry said, the red coloured smear of his mouth shaping something that looked suspiciously like a pout, "I'm still waiting for mine."

-00—

Dean and Sam went to see Dirk's father, leaving Harry to the non-violence assembly that had abruptly been called.

Harry had sighed and had been dragged off by a couple of very pretty cheerleaders looking for all purposes as if he was going to gallows rather than to sit squeezed between two beautiful young women. Even Sam had spared a laugh at Harry's misery and they had cracked jokes at his expense the entire journey to the McGergor house, where they hoped to speak to Dirk's father. It was almost like old times, the odd, resentful distance between them disappearing and Sam felt more like his brother than he had in a long time.

It didn't last for long.

It turned out Dirk had had it rough; a dead mother, an absentee father and not a lot of money and suddenly he wasn't the bully that Sam had faced to protect his friend but an angry, hurting kid that reminded Sam too much of himself. Except Dirk hadn't gotten past it and had killed himself. The more they heard, the more Dean wished Sam hadn't come; still wanting to protect his brother, stupid and unrealistic as it sounded.

By the time they left, all traces of the happy brother Dean knew had gone, replaced with the brooding, angry man whom Sam was becoming and Dean had to be content to listen to the angry little huffs of breath that Sam released against the window of the impala, watching darkly at the condensation if left on the glass.

"Sam..." Dean started and Sam snapped upright, his eyes black and shadowed.

"He was just as scared and miserable as everyone else and I made it worse." Sam hunched in on himself turning his back to Dean, his shoulders a solid wall between them and any comfort Dean could have offered.

Dean sighed and gripped the wheel tighter and remained silent until they arrived back at Truman high school.

The sun had rolled over the edge of the horizon and the only light was the yellow bulbs of the streetlights that flickered sickly, illuminating the empty steps and the figure that was sat waiting for them. Harry was crouched down, looking tiny against the looming backdrop of white and off coloured red painted walls, his limbs tucked in close against his sides and his eyes narrowed into slits of electric green.

It took Dean a moment to realise the younger man wasn't glaring at them but at the shadowy figure that was hovering behind him. For one sick, frozen moment Dean thought it was Dirk but the streetlights wavered, the spill of light expanding and the pale waxen features of some teacher whose name he couldn't remember swam into view; the man's eyes dark behind his glasses.

Harry twisted as the man reached out for him, moving in one slinky dangerous movement that spun him around and sent him to his feet so he was standing on the steps facing the teacher, his back to the impala and Dean. The man said something that Dean couldn't hear but the way he reached out for Harry, his fingers stroking the boy's cheek and his eyes bright and greedy said more than enough.

Dean felt an unfamiliar sick feeling settle into his stomach. Harry didn't move against the teacher's advances and Dean couldn't see his face to gauge his reaction as the teacher swayed forward; his other hand resting possessively on Harry's thin narrow shoulder, his thumb stroking the delicate line of Harry's collar bone. Harry glanced sideways at the man's thumb, watching the movement, his eyes unreadable.

"Dean." Sam glanced over at him his own emotions mirrored on his brother's face. "Shall we...?"

Dean turned back to Harry, his hand already reaching out for the door but the teacher suddenly recoiled away from Harry, stumbling backwards and tripping on his own feet and falling ungracefully into a heap at Harry's feet.

The younger hunter crouched down in one liquid, cat like movement, his face still hidden as he whispered words at the teacher. But it didn't matter because Dean could see the shock and fear that bled across the waxen features of the man's face. Harry whispered, angry dangerous little mutterings at the man and seemed to grow and loom with every second, pressing the man against the stone steps with a hand that Dean could have sworn glowed oddly bright despite the darkness, glittering gold and sparks.

Then it was over and Harry was back on his feet and walking away from the man in angry jerking strides that still seemed more natural and loose limbed than anything Castiel had managed. He stopped at Dean's window and his face was golden and his eyes unnaturally bright and sharp with anger.

"You okay?"

"Just peachy." Harry growled lowly and yanked open the impala, throwing himself into the car and sitting jack-knifed as Dean pulled away from the school.

Dean glanced in mirror and studied Harry with something that verged on apprehension, the hairs on his neck prickling as he ran his eyes over the boy's claw like hands and the thrumming tension in his limbs and he wondered how Harry, who always seemed so small and breakable, could suddenly become so intimidating. Despite Harry furious expression, Dean couldn't help but notice how attractive he looked; his pale, paper thin skin was luminous as if he had somehow captured the sun under his flesh and his eyes were shockingly bright beneath the swaying curls of his hair, electric green that Dean could have sworn were full of bolts of lightning.

"Well?" Harry asked finally, the storm clearing from his face.

"It's the bus driver's son; the boy was cremated but there's a lock of hair that the driver kept for sentimental reasons." Dean answered finally, his eyes still darting to the mirror to study the other hunter.

Harry sucked in his bottom lip thoughtfully and when he released it, the mouth was bright candy red and curling softly against the shock of his flushed, golden skin. "And let me guess, the hair's on the bus?"

"Got it in one." Dean answered and Sam's exhalation beside him was tight with emotion and memories.

-00—

"Do you have everything in that boot?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows as Dean unrolled their homemade traffic spikes along the road.

"Boot," Dean scoffed mimicking Harry's accent and peered into the darkness for any signs of the oncoming school bus. The headlights of the bus wavered on the horizon and the familiar feeling of adrenaline hit him as he skidded back to their hiding place, his breath coming in short, low pants as he waited, crouched and coiled up in preparation.

The bus hit the spikes and the tyres burst open in four violent screeches, the bus skidding to a shuddering halt before them. Sam, with his longer legs and powered by his guilt and anger got to bus first, just as the driver emerged into the dark road. He cocked his gun and called out Dirk's name and the driver spun to stare at them, his nose bleeding ectoplasm and his eyes shadowed and dim with possession.

"Winchester." The possessed man hissed, "What you gonna do, shoot me?"

Dean threw the salted roped around the man and watched him struggle futilely against the bonds for a second before joining Harry as he scrambled abroad, much to the shocked, wide eyed expressions of the jocks.

"Hey aren't you that new student?" one of the youth was asking Harry, as Dean appeared next to him. Harry turned his back to the kids and rolled his eyes in exasperation, leaving Dean to smile crookedly at the students.

"Not really, we're like 21 Jump street."Dean grinned and gestured to Harry who was rooting frantically through the Bus driver's meagre possessions. Dean glanced at his narrow back and turned back to kids, "The bus driver sells pot. Yeah..."

"Dean," Harry said lowly, appearing at Dean's shoulder and curling a hand around his upper arm, drawing him away to the front of the bus and the scattered mess of bible pages and licenses that now littered the driver's seat.

"Dean, Harry?" Sam called; his voice raw.

"It's not here." Harry hissed, gesturing and for one long minute, they just stared at each other blankly, in the lull of the jocks' murmuring. Harry's eyes were bright, luminous green against the darkness of his hair and the pressure of the night around them; the only colour in the entire bus and for a moment they were open and vulnerable without the glassy, cold walls the younger hunter usually hid behind.

"The bus driver," Dean interrupted the silence suddenly, scrambling past Harry and outside, just in time to see Dirk breaking through the salted ropes and Sam shooting at him, expelling the ghost in one angry black wave out of the driver's body.

Dean and Sam froze as the driver slumped unconscious to the ground and waited for Dirk to make the next move.

"Shit!"

Harry's voice cut through the silence and seconds later he was flying backwards past them from the bus's entrance and skidding down onto the road with a grunt of pain that ended up choked and wet sounding. Dean and Sam moved as one to help as the massive shadow of empty eyed student that plodded down the bus's steps towards them, his lips curling into a grimace of anger.

"Winchester."

Dirk's newly possessed body moved faster than either of them expected and Dean's shot went wide, allowing the ghost to leap at Sam, using his greater weight to throw his brother to ground. The student's meaty fists clawed and pummelling Sam mercilessly.

"Get the hair!" Sam cried, from beneath Dirk, trying to fight off the jock's attacks.

Dean winced at the cracking sound that came as another of Dirk's hit landed but skidded onto his knees alongside the still unconscious body of the driver, running his hands frantically along the inside of the man's jacket searching for pockets that could hide Dirk's lock of hair.

"Sorry dude this isn't what it looks like" he muttered at the driver gave a groggy noise of protest. The pockets were empty of hair and Dean had just moved onto to skimming the man's legs when Harry darted past him, his face white and already blossoming with fresh bruises that grew like spilled ink, spreading across his forehead in hues of purple.

The younger hunter ran towards the two grappling men and spun on heel, using the momentum to swing up his opposing leg and slam his foot into the possessed jock, knocking him clear off Sam despite his size. For a second Dean was frozen in shock, staring disbelieving as the mass of fat and muscle flew sideways, propelled by Harry who looked tiny and painfully thin as he leant to help Sam upright.

For a second, Harry's skin seemed to sparkle glitter gold again but Dean didn't glance at him and instead yanked off the driver's boot, grinning darkly at the tied lock of hair tumbled into his hand. "Everything in the boot," he muttered to himself, oddly amused.

The lumbering jock staggered upright, leaning heavily on the bus behind him but before he could say anything Dean set the hair alight and the ghost exploded in fire and black air and the youth tumbled forward unconscious before them with an echoing thump.

"Thanks." Sam murmured and his gaze rested, despite his swelling eye on Harry who's skin had lost the odd golden luminous quality Dean thought he'd seen.

Harry's eyes slanted away from Sam, to stare at Dean. The bright emerald shocking beneath the dark, feathery lines of his eyelashes and his mouth was red and wide as he grinned up at Dean. There was only the harsh sounds of their breathing and Harry's sparkling eyes and Dean felt himself relax properly for the first time since the case had begun and smiled back, warmth uncurling in his belly.

—00—

Dean didn't knock before entering Harry's motel room. It was stupid he supposed but years of living only with family had made him forget common courtesy and he entered the single room to Harry's cut off surprised curses.

Harry was sprawled on his stomach across his bed, papers and books spewed around him. He was back in Dean's too large, low slung jeans and a t-shirt that slipped off his shoulder as he pushed himself upright to stare at the Dean and Dean felt his eyebrow quirk at the sight of him.

Harry glanced at him with a frown and he moved in one fluid, boneless movement, rolling upright until he was sitting cross-legged and scowling, circled by paper and books and scribbled on notepads. "No please just come right in."

Dean shot him a quick, sharp edged smile and kicked the door closed with his foot. "I just wanted to ask if you wanted Chinese, we're ordering."

"Oh. Em." Harry floundered for a minute and didn't notice as Dean moved closer tilting his head to glance over at the research spread out around him.

Dean felt his shoulders tense and grabbed a sheet of paper skimming the paper. Michael and Lucifer and vessels popped out at him and he frowned in realisation. "You're researching angels?" he said suddenly and Harry shot forward snatching the paper out of his hands and rocking back onto his heels in one dangerous, defensive movement, his eyes dark but wide and apprehensive as if he'd just been caught doing something he wasn't meant to.

Dean hesitated, licking his lips thoughtfully and some the unanswered questions about why Harry was with them. "You didn't come with us to help with Lilith, you came to find Castiel."

Harry rocked back further, clutching the paper to his chest like a life line. "The angels are here because of you and Sam, if he comes back it will be to you, then I can speak to him, help him."

"Oh." Dean said dumbly and was surprised by the odd tight sensation of hurt that Harry's words sparked. "Why didn't you just say so?"

"I didn't think you'd let me come," Harry answered quietly.

Dean paused and pressed his lips together, feeling the blood drain away from them. "I want to help him, he's my friend too you know."

"Sorry Dean." Harry shuffled forward again, his limbs losing some of that nervous energy and relaxing a little. He paused and looked away from Dean. "I don't trust people easily, it just seemed better to play everything close to the vest."

"He mean that much to you then?" Dean asked finally and Harry's gaze darted back up to him, the green of his irises a thin ring that bled into dark, longing pupils.

"He was all I knew for three years. He knew my every thought and feeling and memory and I knew him. I shared everything with him, all the good things and all the bad things, things I couldn't speak aloud. He was more than my friend, there is nothing close to that level of intimacy; it's not natural." Harry paused and turned his gaze away, his cheeks flushing and his eyes flickering half shut, lost in memories and regret. "Now, I just feel empty."

Dean felt his finger twitch as his sides and he moved awkwardly and rested his hand on Harry's shoulder, feeling the bird bones of the man's back move and flex as he turned to stare up at Dean. Harry's face was pale and painfully open; his eyes too wide and childlike in his thin face. "It's my fault he's gone, they took him away because I asked him to help John. I have to get him back, I have to help him."

"We'll get him back." Dean murmured and a shudder ran through the length of Harry's body leaving his quaking beneath Dean's hands. "I promise, we'll help him, together. But you don't need to keep things from us."

Harry nodded up at him but his mouth was tight and his lips pressed bloodlessly together and Dean wondered what other secrets he was keeping from them and if the next ones were going to be so easy to accept.

Thank you very much for the splurge of reviews for the last chapter, it is truly gratifying to hear that people are reading and enjoying. Please keep the reviews coming, questions will be answered if asked. I'm actually not sure what a homecoming entails so that is much my question as Harry and I think education in America is mandatory till eighteen but if it's not please excuse any mistakes.

next chapter: Sex and violence-Sirens apparently have odd effects on Wizards, more secrets are revealed and Castiel returns.