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Title: Semiautomagic (part two)
Rating: R
Pairing: slight Sam/Dean
Author: geekwriter143 (aka sneaky_sena)
Recipient: shay_renoylds
part one is here

"This blows," said Dean, flipping a yellowed page in one of the books Harry had brought out. He'd grabbed everything that had to do with Bavaria and the surrounding areas, everything that dealt with dark magic and cursed objects and spells surrounding the summer solstice. Dean was slumped over the book looking glazed over. "My eyeballs are going to fall out."

"I'm pretty sure you're exaggerating," Sam said. Unlike Dean, he seemed alert and interested, flipping each page and scanning it quickly, pausing every once and a while to reread things and take notes.

For his own part, Harry was with Dean. He was exhausted and they were getting nowhere. "I say we sleep on it and start up again in the morning."

"Hallelujah," said Dean, closing his book with a thump. It startled Mouse, who had been dozing against Dean's legs. He'd taken an immediate liking to Dean the moment they'd walked in the door, which Harry took as a good sign. He trusted Mouse's judgment.

Sam cracked his neck and leaned into the candlelight illuminating his book. Harry didn't bother with electric lighting since he just made the bulbs blow out, anyway. "I'm going to stay up for a while," Sam said. "You can have the couch."

Dean yawned and stretched and headed over to Harry's couch. "'kay, but wake me up in a few hours and we'll switch."

Sam nodded and looked back down at his book, engrossed.

Harry was happy to climb into bed and fall into a dreamless sleep where he didn't have to worry about just what sort of dark magic he'd delivered into John Marcone's hands.


When Harry awoke and trudged out to the kitchen to stoke up the stove and make some coffee, Dean was still asleep on the couch, Mouse sleeping on the floor next to him. Sam was sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, hands on his knees, breathing slow and deep.

Harry didn't say anything to disrupt Sam's meditation. He looked at the two of them, younger than he was but harder, somehow. He wondered what Dean was dying of.

After a few minutes, the energy in the air changed and Harry knew Sam had become aware of him. "Do you ever draw a circle, first?" he asked softly.

Sam opened one eye, smiled at Harry sleepily, and shook his head. "No. I wouldn't know where to start."

"It's easy," Harry said, getting a container of salt from the kitchen. "I'll show you. Believe it or not, salt's one of the strongest magical substances."

Sam grinned at him. "Yeah, I know. I know a lot about things that repel or destroy demons and spirits. It's my powers that I'm clueless about."

Harry poured a line of salt around them in a circle. "Now you have to imbue it with a little bit of your life force. Do you want to try?"

"I guess. How do I do that?"

"By concentrating your will. A drop of blood makes it easier but it's not strictly necessary."

Sam shook his right arm and Harry was a little surprised to see a blade appear in his palm. He nicked his finger quickly and efficiently, a cut just large enough that it bled one single drop. He let the drop fall onto the salt, took a deep breath, and a barrier went up around them like a gate slamming shut.

"Huh," said Sam.

"It will keep magic energy both inside the circle and out of it. Humans, though, will be able to walk right through it without even noticing it's there."

Sam reached up and held his hand out flat, as if he was feeling the circle around them. "I'm guessing I just break the salt line to get rid of it?"

"Smart kid."

Sam shrugged, then smiled. "It's quiet in here. Quieter than the bar, even."

"You get other people's thoughts, don't you?"

"I don't know. It just...buzzes in the back of my head. It's nothing I can really see or hear, it's just there. I don't ever really notice it until it's gone."

"How much do you know about magic?" Harry asked him.

Sam shrugged again. "Little to nothing."

"How old were you when your powers started to manifest?"


"Really? That late?"

Sam shrugged. "I thought I was normal until my girlfriend died pinned to a burning ceiling. I'd been having dreams about it for weeks but I thought...I thought they were just dreams."

"Have you had other prophetic dreams?"

Sam nodded. "And I have visions while I'm awake. They're not the future, not exactly, they're just...possibilities. That sounds stupid."

"No, it doesn't. And it's good you can tell the difference between the two. Messing with time is in violation of the laws of magic."

"Are you two going to put on white robes and start chanting Hari Krishna?" Dean asked groggily from behind them.

"I think the Hari Krishnas wear saffron robes, actually."

"Whatever. I told you to wake me up, bitch. You didn't have to sleep on the floor the whole night."

"I didn't."

Dean scowled. "Damnit, Sammy, you need to sleep."

"I know that, and I think maybe I'll be able to. Harry just showed me how to create a circle."

"Um, salt line?" Dean asked. "Didn't you learn how to do that when you were five?"

"Not just a salt line, but an even stronger barrier based on the line." Sam reached out and brushed a bit of the salt away and Harry felt the circle dissipate. Sam pushed Dean over a bit and sat on the couch next to him.

"You can use chalk, sand, even marker if you have to," Harry told them. "Do you two know any of the laws of magic?"

"The bunny's already in the hat," Dean said.

Harry smiled. "Not that kind of magic. There are seven laws, upheld by a governing council of wizards, and breaking any of them carries a death penalty. I hate to have to ask, but have you ever killed anyone with your powers, Sam?"

Sam shook his head. "No."

Have you ever transformed a person into something else?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't...I don't even know how to use what little power I've got. I couldn't do something like that even if I wanted to."

Harry decided not to tell Sam how wrong he was. "Have you ever invaded someone else's mind? Ever bound someone to your will?"

"No. God."

"Ever opened the Outer Gates?"

"The what?" Sam asked. "I don't know what that means."

"We'll take that as a no, then, because you'd know if you'd done it. Have you ever summoned or bound the dead? Ever brought someone back to life?"

Sam shook his head.

"I have," Dean said. He crossed his arms over his chest. "They gonna kill me for that? Because they can try."

"Dean," Sam whispered.

"What? What, Sam? I'm not sorry that I brought you back. I don't regret it and I won't regret it. Ever. So if this council has a problem with that, they can come at me with whatever they've got."

"You were dead," Harry said softly.

"Two days," Sam whispered.

"You're not a zombie. You're not under anyone's control."

Sam shook his head.

"You don't have any power," Harry said, looking at Dean. "How could you bring him back so completely? It's not...it's not even possible."

"Made a deal with something that has power," Dean said simply.

"The only thing that would ever have that much power would be...Hell's Bells. You invoked an Outsider?"

Dean shrugged. "Outsider, crossroads demon, whatever you want to call it, I did it."

"Wait," said Harry. "Like the blues song?"

"'Went down to the crossroads, fell down on my knees."

"And that worked?"

"Yeah. It worked."

"Hell's Bells," said Harry. "How did you manage that sort of magic?"

"Chicken bones and a picture and stuff in a box, bury it, wait for midnight," Dean told him. "It's not like it's hard. Anyone can do it if they're willing to make the deal."

Harry frowned. "That's why you're dying. You traded your life for Sam's."

Dean nodded once. Sam pushed up off the couch and strode across Harry's apartment in a few long strides. Mister was lounging on the bookshelf and Sam buried his fingers in his fur. Mister purred appreciatively.

Dean looked chagrined. He reached down to pet Mouse, who hadn't left his side. "Hey, boy," he said softly.

The willingness to sacrifice your life, your very soul, was extremely powerful magic that even non-magical humans were capable of.

"You wanna go pound the pavement, work the kinks out?" Dean asked.

Mouse's ears perked and he went to retrieve his leash.

Sam didn't look away from the big gray cat even as Harry lowered the wards and let Dean and Mouse outside, explaining that when he got back he should just knock and not try to enter before Harry told him it was all right.

Harry could feel the power building in Sam, could feel the energy of pent up grief and terror and energy radiating from Sam's body.

"Touch the ground," Harry told him. "Send all of that into the earth."

Sam looked slightly confused but he did as Harry said and with a long exhale of breath sent his energy build-up into the earth.

"That's..." Sam began. "I set a lamp on fire, once. I wish I'd known that, then."

"It happens," Harry said with a shrug. "I've already got an apprentice and I'm not sure what it would be like trying to teach two people. You're not nearly as much of a handful as she is, but--"

"It's OK," Sam told him. "I don't expect you to take me under your wing or anything. I just...knowing how to keep from setting things on fire will help a lot." He stepped into the salt circle still on Harry's floor, used his toe to nudge the salt back into place. "Just want to see if I can do it without the blood."

It took a little longer, but Sam managed to raise the circle just as strongly as he had the first time. He sat crosslegged in the center and placed his hands on his knees, took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Harry picked up one of the books they'd been going through last night and had deciphered a few pages of Latin when there was a knock on the door.

"That was a short walk," Sam said, opening one eye and reaching out the break the salt circle with his fingers. "The way Dean loves dogs I assumed they'd be gone for a lot longer."

"It may not be Dean," Harry said. "I called a friend last night. He could be good backup."

When Harry got close to the door he heard Thomas saying, "It's very, very early, Harry, so I hope you don't expect me to wait for long."

Harry grinned and took down the wards, opened the door and invited Thomas in. They were half-brothers, though they had told very few people about the blood ties between them.

"Sam," Harry said, "Thomas. Thomas, this is Sam."

"Hello," Thomas said.

"H-hi," Sam whispered as he got to his feet. He swallowed hard. His pupils had dilated and he was gazing at Thomas with undisguised attraction. He took several shaky breaths and touched the tip of his tongue to his lower lip.

"Thomas," Harry said sharply. "Stop it."

"I'm not doing anything. It's a pleasure to meet you, Sam," Thomas said. He licked his lips, then looked away. His skin had paled a shade and his eyes had grown fierce. He shook his head. "I'm just on my way to work. I got your message so I stopped by."

"We can talk later," Harry said. He knew what his brother looked like when he was hungry. Thomas was a vampire. He wasn't a Black Court vampire like the one Sam had killed in the alley. He was a vampire of the White Court, beings that fed off emotion instead of blood. Thomas had curbed that desire and hadn't fed through lust in years; instead, he fed of the intimacy he gained through the washing and styling of rich women's hair. It was a solution that rarely failed to make Harry laugh, but there was nothing funny about Thomas' hunger at the moment.

"Yes," Thomas said, swallowing hard. "I haven't...I didn't work yesterday and I should...it was very much a pleasure to meet you, Sam." He held out his hand and Sam shook it eagerly.

Harry was just about to break them apart when Thomas jerked his hand back and cradled it to his chest. There were small blisters forming on his fingers and his palm. Sam was in love; it was one of the White Court's few weaknesses.

"What are you?" Sam asked, his voice shaky. His breath was still coming fast. "Incubus," he whispered.

"For all intents and purposes," Thomas told him. "Harry will explain. I must go."

After Thomas was gone, Harry once again installed the wards on his front door. When he turned around, Sam was sitting on the couch catching his breath.

"Holy shit," said Sam.

"I didn’t realize that you were..." Harry began. "If I'd known that you'd be so attracted to Thomas I wouldn't have asked him over, not when he hadn't fed."

"You're friends with an incubus?"

"He's a vampire, actually. White Court. They feed off emotion. Fear, despair, lust."

"You're friends with a vampire," Sam said. He shook his head as if to clear it. "A really, really hot vampire."

"He's one of the good guys."

Sam nodded, pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He dropped his hands and looked up at Harry. "We probably shouldn't tell Dean. He has this thing about vampires."

"All right," said Harry.

"And, um, we probably shouldn't introduce them. Because, uh, I'm the restrained one and even I wanted to rip my clothes off. Dean probably would have ripped his clothes off."

Oh. Oh. Harry felt like an idiot. That's why Sam and Dean hunted together. That's why Sam had been protected from Thomas. He and Dean were in love. "You're protected from them," Harry said softly. "Both of you. Because you're in love. It hurts them."

"The blisters," Sam said.


"I wanted to go for it anyway. I wasn't even thinking about Dean."

"It happens. You should see Thomas' sisters. I'd be lying if I said my blood didn't rush south every time I met them."

"Definitely don't introduce Dean to Thomas' sisters."

"He'll still be protected. He is the one you're in love with, isn't he?"

Sam sat on the couch and looked down at his hands. "Don't tell him that, either."

"Sam, crushes don't count. Only true love protects you from the White Court. He has to love you back."

Sam looked up at Harry and grinned. "Oh, I'm not worried about that. He just turns into a little bitch every time somebody figures out he actually has modes that aren't sarcasm or ass-kicking, and I don't feel like dealing with him pouting in the corner for a week."

Harry laughed at that. "So, Thomas is out for backup. Both of you are going to need to concentrate and, well..."

"He's really hot," Sam told him.

"OK. Plan B, then. Karrin Murphy, a friend of mine on the CPD--"

"No cops," Sam said quickly.

"Anything you need to tell me?"

"Just that most cops don't really understand what it means when they see the same two guys at unexplainable crime scenes across the country over and over again."

"She's good backup."

"We don't need backup. We're used to working alone."

"Marcone's a serious player, Sam. He's not just going to let you waltz in and--" Harry lifted his head when there was a quick rap on his door.

"It's Dean," he said.

Harry undid the wards, forced the door open, and let Dean and Mouse inside.

"I was just telling Harry that we don't need backup."

"You find out how to destroy the thing yet?" Dean asked.

"Not yet, but Marcone's going to have it under heavy guard, both physical and magical protection."

Dean shrugged and ruffled Mouse's fur. He wandered into the kitchen and snagged a bag of chips out of Harry's cabinets. "You have a lot of chips," he said.

Harry shrugged. He had a unique cleaning service--fairies. The only problem was that they sometimes had strange opinions on what food to stock in his cupboards and ice box. He also couldn't tell anyone about them. If you told people that fairies were cleaning your house, they'd never come back again. He didn't know why, it was just the way it worked.

"So we find out how to smash the thing, I take the guards, you take the magic, Sam picks the locks, and we're golden," Dean said easily.

"I don't think you understand," Harry began.

Dean sat on the couch next to Sam and bumped their shoulders together. "He teach you how to use the force, yet?"

Sam laughed and shook his head. "We were just meditating."

"You meditate all the freaking time."

"It is the sort of thing that works best the more you practice."

Dean shrugged. "Whatever. Hey, coffee, sweet."

They settled down over Harry's books again and had been reading for hours when Sam said, "I've got it." Both Harry and Dean came to look over his shoulders. "It's the locket of Count Palatine Otto-Heinrich. In it, he trapped forever the power to blot out the sun."

"Explains why the damn vamps want it," Dean said.

Harry nodded. "And it helps explain why they'd try to open it on the summer solstice. It's when power tips from the lighter summer court to the darker winter court. They could possibly bring a dark, endless winter to the entire world."

"Dude, I hate the end of the world," Dean grumbled. "Why can't people just use dark magic to get hot chicks and free World Series tickets? Does it tell you how to destroy the damn thing?"

"Uh, the point is not to destroy it. As long as it's intact, no one can use it."

There was a knock on Harry's door and a voice saying, "Harry, it's Michael. I was on my way to the store to pick up something for Charity when I got the feeling that I needed to see you."

Harry shook his head and smiled. His good friend, Michael, was one of the Knights of the Cross, three men who wielded swords of God. The order had originally been created to fight fallen angels, but the members used the power of their swords to fight all kinds of evil. They also managed to show up without being called whenever you really needed them.

"Nice armor," Dean said dryly after Harry had opened the door.

"Michael, this is Dean and Sam. They're...well, I'm helping them out."

"Ah," said Michael with a nod. "What are we fighting?"

"Possibly Black Court vampires, probably John Marcone, and maybe something or someone else we don't yet know about. Are you sure you want to help? Won't Charity be mad when you don't come back from the store?"

"I called her and she's not pleased that I won't be coming back with the cheddar cheese, but she understands. It's a pleasure to meet you Sam, Dean. Shall we go?"

"Let's mount up," said Dean.

"Maybe we should do more research," said Harry.

"A guy wearing a full suit of armor just showed up at your front door with a feeling that you needed help," Sam told him. "I think that means now's the right time."

Harry couldn't really argue with that. He put on his duster, secured his blasting rod inside it, grabbed his staff, and slung a katana

They took Dean's car. He refused to ride in Michael's minivan, and once Harry saw the extreme arsenal of weapons in the trunk, he thought it was probably a good thing they'd taken Dean's car.

Dean parked in an alley two blocks from the Olcott Trucking warehouse and they made their way as inconspicuously as they could through the late afternoon shadows.

Harry figured the sight of four men slinking through the shadows, wearing things like black leather dusters and hoodies bulging with weapons and katanas slung over their shoulders and suits of armor would either make people call the police immediately or immediately try to forget what they'd seen.

There were no security cameras around the warehouse. There were no guards on the roof. The wards protecting the place were weak enough for Harry to disable them within 30 seconds, and 30 seconds after that Sam had picked the lock. The ease with which they entered made Harry uneasy.

The locket was sitting on top of a pedestal. Not in a safe or even a cage, just sitting open where anyone could grab it--unless the real wards were around the locket.

Harry took a deep breath and readied his Sight. When he opened his third eye he saw things as they really were, and it wasn't always pleasant. The things he saw were vivid and strong and he could never forget them, not ever.

The necklace had no power surrounding it. Harry reached to pick it up and felt nothing except a slight pulse of expectation that had rubbed off on it. There was no dark power inside it, and definitely not enough dark power to do something as sever as blot out the sun.

"So?" Dean asked.

"It's..." Harry turned his head to look at him and nearly gasped.

Dean shone golden with light despite the deep wounds crisscrossing his body. His chest was ripped to shreds, oozing dark red blood. Through the shredded skin, Harry could see his heart. It beat a strong and steady tattoo, refused to stop despite the wounds. Its glow was bright enough to make Harry look away. He was made of defiance and rage and beneath that all, a fierce love so strong it kept his heart beating through sheer force of will.

Where Dean was light, Sam was dark. He was fear and sadness that sunk deep into his bones. He was weeping. He would have been made of pure desperation if not for the vines of hope that twined around him. Emerald green, the vines twined around his limbs and into the dark hole in his chest. They sprouted from his skin and bloomed with flowers shining with the golden love that made Dean's heart beat.

The light of Dean's love made the vines of hope grow all throughout Sam. The glow of the flowers on the vine kept Dean alive. The men were inexorably linked, neither able to survive without the other.

Harry leaned back and released his Sight.

"Dude, did you just blow your own mind or something?" Dean asked.

Harry shook his head, "No. No, it's--"

Just then, a rip opened in the boundary between the human world and the Nevernever, and five vampires came barreling towards them.

"Son of a--" Dean said, reaching for the katana he had slung over his shoulder. He knew how to handle a sword and cleanly lopped the first vampire's head off. At the same moment Dean went for the sword, Harry shook down his shield bracelet on his left hand and raised his right hand, letting the kinetic power in his rings release and send two of the vampires flying backwards. When he glanced to his left, he saw Michael wielding his sword with calm, righteous power. On his right, Sam had released two long, curved blades from his arm sheaths and was fighting with focused intensity.

It didn't take long before all five vampires had been killed. Harry caught his breath and lowered his shield. The four of them were panting, wary, waiting for the next strike. Slowly, the rip in the Nevernever closed.

"That was too fucking easy," Dean said, holding the katana at the ready.

Sam nodded in agreement, catching his breath. It had taken him several blows with each knife to behead the vampire and he was splattered with blood.

"It does seem...odd," Michael said, holding his sword at rest but still tense and ready to use it the moment he needed to.

"It seems like a setup," Harry said, backing slowly towards the door. "The locket is powerless and we got in way too easily."

"Son of a bitch," Dean said. The four of them turned instinctively so that they were covering one another's backs as they edged towards the door.

"It's all right, Dresden," came a cool voice from the corner.

Harry startled, then wanted to snarl as he saw Marcone standing there with his Amazon bodyguard. They'd been behind a veil the entire time.

Harry stepped forward, wanting to punch Marcone in the face. "What the hell is this about?"

"I couldn't afford to let this get out, the existence of the locket," Marcone said. "Even my own people could have been...corrupted. I needed you to destroy its seekers so that no one asked too many questions."

The realization that Marcone had just used him to get rid of his enemies filled Harry with rage that he wasn't about to ground into the earth.

"Harry," Michael whispered, setting his hand on Harry's shoulder.

Harry shrugged it off. "You son of a bitch. If you want me to do something, you'd better well come to me and tell me about it. I don't appreciate being manipulated."

"I needed the Black Court children to think that I was stealing the locket for my own purposes. They were weak but not stupid. I needed them to think I was going to have to fight you as well."

"The locket is worthless," Harry snapped.

Marcone nodded. The knowledge didn't shock him. "The real locket is back where it belongs."

"In one of your damn vaults?"

"It's safe around the neck of Mother Summer," Marcone said. "I'm the last person who wants eternal darkness and ice."

"Hard to make a profit when vampires rule the world."

Marcone shrugged, not bothering to deny it. Harry's rage settled down into dull anger. If Marcone was telling the truth, and Harry knew he was, then the locket was safe. The Queen Mother of the Summer Faerie court was probably the least likely being to ever allow the locket to be opened and its dark power to be used.

"Who's this dude?" Dean asked.

"John Marcone." Harry said his name like a curse.

"Dude," said Dean. "Your strip club on Kinzie Street is awesome."

"Gentleman's club," Marcone corrected with a hint of a smile.

"You're such a pig," Sam said with fond exasperation.

"They've got saunas, Sam. I told you you should have come with me. A sauna, deep tissue massage, and a lap dance all in the same place? That's quality right there."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Marcone said. "I was quite impressed by your fighting skill. Both of you. I might be interested in making a business arrangement."

"Sorry," said Dean. "Free agents. We don't work for anybody."

"I'm a very generous employer."

"Yeah, and we don't work for anybody."

Marcone shrugged and shook his head as if Dean was giving up the chance of a lifetime.

Harry still wanted to punch Marcone in the face but he forced himself to resist. He was going to fume over the way Marcone had manipulated him for days, but things had worked out for the best and he didn't think he'd even pulled the stitches in his shoulder.

They left the warehouse still tense and ready for a fight. None came. Michael sheathed his sword, Harry tucked his shield bracelet back into his sleeve, Sam slid his knives back into their sheaths, and Dean sliced the katana through the air before returning it to its scabbard. It sang as he did so, a clear, beautiful tone. Harry and Michael exchanged a glance.

Back at Harry's apartment, cleanup was minimal. Sam, who had needed to get closer to the vampires than anyone else, had a few nail scratches on his cheek, but nothing the needed stitches. The rest of them had come out of the fight completely unscathed.

"Those vampires were young," Harry said as the four of them sat back and drank ice-cold bottles of Mac's best ale. "Mere months old."

"They were easy to kill," Dean said. "Last group of vamps we came up against were tougher."

Sam cleared his through.

"Fine. The last group of evil vamps we cam up against were tougher."

Harry leaned back in his chair as Sam and Dean told them stories of decades-old vampires in the west of the country and of Black Court vampires who had made the conscious decision to stop feeding on humans. While they talked, they cleaned their weapons. Their movements were precise and second-nature, and Harry suspected that the cleaning was a ritual after every fight.

Once Dean had wiped the blood off the katana and polished it to a sheen, he sheathed it and tried to hand it back to Harry.

"It's yours," Harry said softly.

Dean looked down at the katana, then back up at Harry. "You're giving it to me?"

"It belongs to you," Michael told him. "It's one of the three Swords of the Cross, brother to my own and one other."

Dean raised one eyebrow.

"God sent to us three holy swords to be used to fight evil and serve the righteous and just. Mine is Amoracchius, love. An honorable man named Sanya possesses the one known as Esperacchius, hope. Your sword, Dean, is Fidelacchius, faith. It chose you because of who you are, because of the power of your own faith."

"But I don't have faith in anything," Dean whispered, shaking his head. He moved to hand the sword back to Harry.

"You do," Michael said kindly, "though you may not yet know it. God has chosen you for a purpose."

Dean looked at Harry. Harry shrugged. "Look, I don't go in for the whole religion thing, but the swords are powerful magic and they choose their owners. Fidelacchius has chosen you."


"A magic sword of the righteous used to fight evil?" Sam asked. "Dean, if you turn that down you will be the stupidest bastard ever to walk the face of the earth. Fighting evil is what we do. Why the hell would you want to give up a weapon like that?"

"Because it's a mistake. I don't have faith, Sammy, I don't even believe in God. You know that. Maybe it's meant for you. You're the good one, you're the one who believes, you're the one--"

"Who thinks you're a fucking idiot." Sam's tone was exasperated but fond. "You've given your entire life--literally--to the cause of hunting down evil and destroying it, and now you can. It's like the Colt, Dean, only this time we won't run out of bullets. That sword can hurt anything evil, even demons."

"That is pretty fucking cool," Dean said.

Harry reached out and patted Michael's arm. He knew how uncomfortable curse words made him.

"So stop being an idiot."

"But I'm going to Hell," Dean said. "Soon. I sold my soul to a demon."

Harry expected Michael to bristle at that, but he didn't. Instead, Michael placed his hand on Dean's shoulder and shook his head. "It's a debt that the evil thing cannot collect."

"I can't fight it," Dean told him. "If I try, Sam dies and--"

"I don't mean that you need to fight it. I mean that the deal was never valid. Your soul does not belong to you, Dean, therefore you didn't have the right to bargain with it. The contract is void and has been since the moment you made it."

"Are you going to start spouting some hocus pocus about how my soul really belongs to God?" Dean asked with a frown.

Michael smiled and nodded. "Yes. Exactly. Your soul belongs to God and you cannot bargain with what you do not own."

"He actually has a point, Dean," Sam said.

"Have you ever actually met me?" Dean asked. "Do you really think that God wants a single thing to do with my soul?"

Sam curled his fingers around the back of Dean's neck and leaned down to kiss him for a long moment. "Yes," he whispered, touching their foreheads together.

Harry looked away and told himself that there was nothing to be uncomfortable about. He was confident in his own sexuality, so the nature of Sam and Dean's relationship was of absolutely no consequence. He noticed that Michael was also ignoring Sam and Dean's show of physical affection.

"Wait," said Dean. "Do I have to wear a suit of armor, because I'm not down with that."

"Armor doesn't make a knight," Michael told him.

"So I'm a knight?" Dean asked. "Does that mean people have to call me Sir?"

Sam groaned and rolled his eyes.


End Notes: You'll notice that the prompt--Sam and Dean crossing one of the White Council's initiatives and needing Harry's help to get out of it--never happens in this story. That's because this story spiraled out of control and the place where I planned the White Council getting involved doesn't happen for months after the beginning of this story. Yeah. It got really long in my head and I ran out of time to write the entire thing. I don't know if I'll end up writing all the swirling plot ideas I've got, but if I do, one day the White Council will get their panties in a twist and try to come after our boys, I promise.


Aug. 21st, 2007 08:10 pm (UTC)
Oh, God, I love you! I adore Supernatural and I adore the Dresden Files, especially the book!verse and... *squees* And it has Sam/Dean and Thomas in it and I love Thomas and the descriptions of Sam and Dean as seen through the Sight were gorgeous and I love that Dean got Fidelacchius and and and *flails*

This was absolutely awesome. Yes, it was.