A/N:

So... I guess this is a little late. I honestly wanted to update this story long before now but I guess that's life. I'll try harder next time! Also, I'm totally freaking out! Almost 300 people are following this story! Thank you all so much. :3


Perturbed by the man's sudden demeanour change, Harry flinched away from the man. He seemed angry- really angry.

His flinch, unfortunately, jarred his injuries which had been exacerbated by the demon possession and, in too much pain, Harry collapsed back down to the ground whimpering pathetically.

Bobby seemed to remember his injuries and sighed before carefully lifting Harry up from the ground, intent on taking him to his truck to take him home.

Harry squirmed in his arms for all of two seconds before he realised through his pain-hazed mind what was happening and he stilled, exhausted.

Lacking the energy to even insist that he walk himself, Harry settled for being carried like an infant and relaxed minutely in the burly man's arms. It didn't take long until the two had made their way to Bobby's pickup and Harry was loaded gently in the passenger seat and soon they were on their way, presumably to Singer's Auto-salvage.

It hadn't taken long to arrive at Bobby's home, thank god. The journey had been so silent and awkward; Harry hadn't known what to do! Silence had permeated the awkward atmosphere but it had given Harry time to think about what he was going to say. If Bobby was a hunter then it was likely that he would just kill Harry if he came clean about his magic. At the same time, Harry didn't really want to mislead the man who had saved him from a demon possession and was about to heal his injuries. He had decided to just go with the flow and worry later.

The only time the silence was broken was when Bobby had asked Harry if he had any luggage with him. Responding in the positive and explaining that the demon had left it behind, Harry was shocked when the gruff man went out of his way to pick up the small-ish suitcase.

After arriving at the auto-salvage, Harry's suitcase had been unloaded and taken inside while Harry waited patiently in the car. After about five minutes of waiting, Harry got bored and decided that the man must want him to go inside by himself so, despite the pain, Harry clumsily opened the truck door and tried to step out. Unfortunately, the truck was too high up to just step out. On any other day Harry wouldn't have hesitated to simply jump down but as it was, it was too painful.

Luckily for him, just as he was about to risk more pain and jump out, Bobby reappeared holding a small shot glass and a heavy looking crowbar.

"Drink this." The man said gruffly, holding the shot glass for Harry to take. Unwilling to make an enemy of this man, Harry did as instructed and grimaced at the odd tasting water. Next, the man had him hold the crowbar for a reason that Harry couldn't quite comprehend.

Seemingly satisfied, he lifted Harry from the truck with an annoying amount of ease. Standing at a meagre 5"1" and weighing less than 6 stone, he was hardly a force to be reckoned with. It annoyed him really- everyone always drew attention to the petite hero.

His first thoughts of Bobby's house were 'Dirty' and 'book-filled.' It was almost as if the man owned a library rather than an auto-salvage though Harry was sure it was the latter due to the sheer amount of rusting metal piles he had glimpsed on the way in.


Bobby was in out of his depth. He had gone out for a beer and returned with his "friend's" wayward spawn; he hadn't expected this at all. To make matters worse the child was injured quite badly. Most concerning was the week-old bruise the marred the boy's face. The demon couldn't have made the injury and the sheer number of old scars hinted at an unsavoury home life at best.

The boy himself couldn't have been more than thirteen years old and his accent spoke of British origins. If he had estimated the age right, then this boy was younger than Sam- Mary couldn't have been his mother, however, a niggling feeling up his spine told him better. He had seen pictures of Mary and the boy was almost a perfect likeness to her.

Having already checked the boy for being a shape shifter or werewolf, silver crowbar, and having checked the demon had been fully expelled, holy water, Bobby was satisfied the boy wasn't currently harmful to him though he sighed in relief when the boy made it over the salt line with no problem.

Dumping the boy down on his sofa, Bobby made a quick trip to his kitchen which held all his first-aid equipment. John would surely kill him if this boy was truly his child and he hadn't healed him up as soon as possible. John had his flaws but he cared about his family.

"So, boy," The gruff man started, making a note of the slight flinch the boy gave at the appellation, "Where are you hurt?"

A pensive expression overtook the child's face, ageing him slightly.

"And while we're at it, what's your name kid?"

The boy seemed unsure for a moment before steeling himself, "My name is Harry." The boy stated simply, "Um…All over I guess."

Concerned, the gruff man leant forward from where he had seated himself in front of Harry, noting when the child flinched and almost cowered away from him. It was rather worrying that the child seemed this wary.

"Well then, Harry, how old are you? I need to know so I can estimate the amount of medicine I can give you." And to see if john cheated was left unsaid.

"Erm…" The boy mumbled, face down and going red.

"Sorry kid didn't quite hear you." Bobby coaxed.

The boy- Harry he reminded himself- sighed. "I'm fifteen, almost sixteen.

Bobby gasped- the kid could be Mary's and boy was he small. Were all Brits like this or had it been a result of poor eating habits? Neither John nor Mary were small as adults from what he could tell. Dean and Sam were a lot larger than this kid who must have been the middle child.

Regaining his composure, Bobby continued gaining his information while subtly sorting out his first aid kit for use.

"So… how come's your daddy never told me about you then." He was desperate to find out before he called John. If this was a false alert or a trap, both of which seemed unlikely, he didn't want to bring John into this. The man already had two teens to look after.

The infuriating child simply shrugged. "Well, I didn't know until a few days ago myself. It's a long story. Tell me, do you believe in magic?"

The next hour passed mind-bogglingly quick. Bobby was left feeling slightly overwhelmed by the wealth of information the kid had. He was a treasure trove of intel.

Witches and wizards. Natural-bornes. He had known about their existence but with their secretive nature he had never been able to find out much about them- until now that is.

The story the boy had spun seemed impossible but it had been told with so much fervour and emotion that he had a hard time questioning it. He didn't trust the boy much but it was obvious that he wasn't lying. It left a sour feeling on his tongue. If he was to be believed then this boy had lived through hell then had found that the people he had always wanted to meet, the people he had admired, had been low-life scum that kidnapped children.

One thing was sure, John wouldn't believe this. Oh, the man knew about the existence of natural-bornes but to be spelled into forgetting your own child? Incomprehensible.

The next shock came when Bobby had started to tend to the teenager's injuries. He'd had the boy strip leaving his underwear on for modesties sake. He almost wished he hadn't. Numerous laceration dotted and defaced the youths back. His torso had been one big bruise of varying shades. The most startling discovery were the cracked ribs. Harry had been lucky they hadn't simply broken when he had fought against the demon.

Unfortunately, Harry had been curiously tight-lipped about the whole thing so Bobby had been unable to find out who had done this. From the brunet's story, he lived with his aunt and uncle. That part had mostly been skated over much to his despair. His gut was telling him that most of these injuries weren't caused by a brief stint as a meat-suit.

After applying topical solution after topical solution and shoving a cocktail of pills down the emerald-eyed boy's throat, Bobby Singer was officially satisfied. It would be a while until he was completely healed but at least the boy wasn't in any immediate danger- yet.

Next on the agenda was to contact John Winchester. Not only was this an almost impossible feat but he would also have to persuade John into visiting and not killing his own blood unknowingly.