Title: The Night Chicago Died

Author: Ghostey

Disclaimer: Ghostey does not own anything pertaining to Dresden Files or Supernatural

Genre: Gen

Pairing/Characters: Features the Winchester Boys, Harry Dresden, Karrin Murphy. May have slight implications of Harry/Karrin, because that would rock. Alas, it isn't cannon, because Harry and Karrin are romantic masochists

Rating: (please refer to the rating system we use below) T, possibility of changing to M

Spoilers: (if any) Set 2nd season Supernatural and ermm right before Proven Guilty I suppose

Summary: Harry Dresden (Chicago's only professional wizard) tells us a case he works on with none other than the Winchester Boys.

A/N: (if any) Only note is this is bookverse Dresden, with the notable exception of Bob as a ghost, mostly because of my love of Terrence Mann. Oh, and POV is Dresden's. Because anything involving the Chicago wizard has to be told from his perpective.

The Night Chicago Died

Chapter 1

In my line of work, you come across a great number of interesting people. We have the "good side" with my associates like Bob, a spirit akin to a supernatural encyclopedia, some people of the White Council such as Ramirez, my brother Thomas, the Alphas, who are my personal favorite group of teenage mutant ninja werewolves, and I can't forget Michael Carpenter who is literally the Fist of God. Opposite of that we have… well certainly A) anyone trying to kill me. B) Vampires, regardless of the Court they're in… Red Court, Black Court, White Court, whatever. All vamps have it out for me, but the Red Court especially. C) Faeries, usually, but not limited to, the Winter court, my godmother, and the Summer court – usually in that order. And D) Demons, Demons are malicious little S.o.B.s that I try to limit my interaction with. Oh, and I suppose I should mention my own little conspiracy group that I have labeled "The Black Council," which oh so clever because they're my Templar Knights of the White Council.

But those are all the beings that have some sort of connection with the paranormal. In terms of "normal" people in and around the Windy City I have people like Lieutenant Karrin Murphy and the rest of Special Investigations who try their best against the dark things in the world which I so "eagerly" entangle myself with.

There are some people however, scattered about the world don't just try their best against monsters and the like – they are the best when it comes to mortals on the front line without any magical abilities. I personally have only come across a few in my lifetime, being that generally most of them see only in black and white, and to some I'm considered somewhat supernatural I suppose… with that being said, they fall under the category of A and I like to avoid that list under A. Other times, there are those who recognize that not everyone associated with the occult is a bad guy - two of those people were John Winchester and his son; I had worked with them on some nasty business nearly four years ago.

I had lost touch with them somewhere along the line; I supposed they were still gallivanting around the country doing the odd businesses the stationary crime fighters like myself can't get to. It was interesting to work with the hunters, for they carried a dark sense of oppression that I suppose I carried sometimes as well, but they bore it the whole freaking time. John refused to fill me in on his past, which was fine by me, because I wasn't going to tell him my own story, but the son, Dean, that's what his name was, was more personable than the father.

Dean was only a couple of years younger than I was, and the evening after we… took care of things… I decided to take the Winchesters to McAnally's pub, celebrate the evening. Dean agreed to go whereas his father just smiled grimly and said he was going to turn in.

When we got there Dean lit up at the sight of the menagerie of people in the bar, immediately the kid started to clean up the few drunks hustling pool but before things would start to explode I gently dragged Dean to a booth in the corner.

Dean seemed like a nice kid, but his ease in the presence of so many people was a façade, his eyes darted around the room dangerously. I looked at him and smiled. "Don't worry," I said, "No one's going to kill you."

He had laughed, which was something I hadn't heard throughout the entire hunt with his father, they had seemed stressed about something the whole time, and I couldn't pin it down what they were worried about. Primarily it was John who seemed anxious and it must have only started to rub off on Dean. But with his laugh, seeing the stiff false mask melt into something more relaxed, I ordered two steaks and two ales, and when they were done I got up and brought the two plates back to our table. I had wolfed down the food, I had been starving after the case, but I remember Dean savoring the food and the environment.

Finally, he ventured carefully saying, "You know? I never knew there were people like you."

It had been my turn to laugh, "There are a lot of things out there, and knowing what you do know, don't you think that anything's plausible?"

"But "professional" wizards? Heh, I guess I learn something new everyday."

After we finished our meal Dean and I played pool the rest of the night, and he pretty much wiped the floor with my ass. He had looked at me with mirth and said that he went easy on me, and I didn't doubt him for a second. I scrape by with my meager income consulting for Chicago Special Investigations, but hunters usually received no payments of any kind, so surprisingly enough there are people who are even more broke than I am challenging spooks and haunts. I suspect that some form of illegal scam involving credit cards has something to do with their income.

We parted ways, telling him to keep in touch and that if he was ever in the Chicago area to drop me a line. "I am the only one under "Wizards" in the phone book, you can't miss me," I told him before he disappeared down the dark Chicagoland streets.

That night, I trouped down to my lab when I got to my apartment. I hadn't had much of a chance to investigate the Winchester family while working with them. This was something I tended to do in my practice, work with people I didn't know whether or not to trust, but that comes with the job. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, my ever so helpful assistant materialized in the middle of the room, folding his arms.

"Back so soon? I was worried that you would leave for the wide road without me," Bob said, following me as I sat down heavily in the chair. I was filled with… gosh, I remember being tired, elated, happy, content, broody, and curious all at the same time that night. The night out with Dean had put me in an overall good mood, because I didn't go out with friends much anymore, or in fact saw people as friends. It was a prerogative for wizards to be hermits and hate the world. "Did you have a good time?" Bob said to me patronizingly.

"I'm fine," I said as flatly as I could. I looked up at Bob who had a mild look of curiosity on his face. "Tell me, can you find out anything about the Winchesters? Do you know anyone in the Nevernever that might know their story?"

Bob smirked slightly, "Why would you like to know Harry?" I was going to answer him, but he said before I could, "Yes, I can see what I can dig up on them if you're so interested."

"It won't be pretty," I said, recalling how John avoided the subject of him and Dean's past when I even broached the subject.

"It never is," Bob replied knowingly.

Later that night I could recall Bob coming back and telling me what he could find out, how it wasn't just John and Dean, but there was also another son, he didn't find out the name. They were big time hunters, heavy hitters, and even in the Nevernever their names were spoken in hushed tones like legends or something like that.

It seemed impossible that one family, one mortal family could gather that much fame in such a short amount of time, but somehow fitting – they did what they could to stop anyone from getting hurt because of the black sheep of the universe, and they were damn good at it too.

It was kind of like how I was, people knew me (as evidenced by those who try to kill on a regular basis) and people respected me. So then it didn't seem so implausible and I could respect the Winchesters so much more.

But all that had been a long time ago, and I didn't think much of them for years, I had my own problems to deal with, such as evil sorcerers and/or necromancers, kind of starting a war between the White Council and vampires, Susan, and a wicked battle for Middle-Earth (joking – it was over Faerie, long story) and so forth. They vanished from my mind as quickly as they had blown into it like tumbleweeds.

As usual, I was at wits end with no jobs, no rent money, and seriously… I was running low on just about everything in my kitchen, most importantly coffee, coca cola, and cocoa puffs, even my cat, Mister, was suffering because I had no Coke in the fridge. It was evident, he hissed at me the other night when I didn't give him any soda for dinner, because I didn't have any myself.

While I contemplated calling Murphy as to whether or not she had any potential cases that may have needed… someone of my profession and knowledge, I descended the steps to my lab. Plunking my butt on the chair I had there I sat waiting for something to waltz my way and provide me with the cash I so desperately needed.

Mister perused onto my lap and I absentmindedly tickled my fingers underneath his chin. I knew what he wanted… food. Like I did. But being the sucker I am I'd been feeding Mouse and Mister more than I had eaten myself so neither my dog nor my cat had any right to complain.

Behind me, I heard Bob say, "It might interest you to know that your friend is back in town."

I was puzzled, my friends included the Alphas, Murphy, and Michael, all of who lived in Chicago with me, there was no reason for them to skip town and be… dare I say it… worthy of mentioning by Bob.

"I meant that Winchester boy," Bob said apathetically, "I had forgotten to mention it to you the last time they were here, so I made sure of it this time."

I got up hastily, brushing myself off as if John and Dean were waiting for me beyond my door at the very moment. "When were they here last?" I almost felt betrayed at the fact they hadn't contacted me, but then again, I wasn't bursting at the seams to contact them either.

"Oh, about a year and a half ago, maybe… perhaps a year or so?" Bob's tone had turned to one aloof and it seemed floaty.

"What were they doing?" I asked him.

"Oh, their job. You were busy doing other things, and you failed to notice the case they had been on, mind you they probably had a job far worse than yours I'd imagine."

I gritted my teeth; Bob never ceased to amaze me in his capacity to irritate me while still being the first person I turned to when I was feeling jaded.

"They had a run in with some Daevas. You had turned the case down when Miss Murphy asked you because you were fixing some issue with Michael or something like that."

"Daevas?" I said incredulously, "Those haven't been around for… what's it been?"

"Since the decline of Zoroastrianism."


"Besides which, they left soon after they got here."

"And they're here now?" I asked impatiently.

"Need I repeat myself Harry?" Bob replied in a tired voice, "Honestly, sometimes you should listen to someone who is hundreds of years your elder."

I laughed. "You need to get out more," I said with a grin plastered on my face.

Bob shot me a glare and dissipated back into amber light and into his skull. He was pretending to be sulking, but I knew better than that. I patted the skull on the head (literally, what else could I have patted?) and stalked my way up the stairs to the main portion of my living room.

I debated whether or not to see if I could talk with them… surely one of them had left something I could have traced or used to find them. Neither had left me a phone number to reach them by, and I got the feeling that if they didn't want to be found no civilian means could, therefore, I needed to use magic.

I looked around the apartment, trying to recall what it was that John had left, because he did… I remembered it. Oh, right, John had left a relic he had been carrying with him for some years. He must have not known what to do with it so he left it in my capable hands to figure out. Honestly, I had completely forgotten about the task and I felt guilty about it then. Peeking my head into the stairwell, I yelled to Bob, "Find that thing of Winchester's!"

He materialized through a bookcase and gave me a funny look. "Do you mean the father's knickknack you abandoned or the toiletry bag they left behind?"

I gave him a stunned look, "No kidding?" I was surprised, that would make it easier to track them down, and personal items like that… hopefully there would be hair or something.

"Why would I?" he returned, feigning surprise in the fact that I would question him. "It's underneath the sink… I believe you used their toothpaste when you ran out two months ago."

I practically ran to the bathroom, using my long strides to me advantage and rummaged around the cabinet until I found a drab, well-worn bag containing toothbrushes, a hairbrush, and spare bits of dental floss.

The darker hair would be John's, I assumed, so I picked off two or three strands for my spell work. It only took a moment for the spell to take effect, and it took less than a moment for my crystal to fizzle out and die.

Well then… I sat back into my chair and let out a deep breath. For my spell to simply not work like that only meant one thing – John Winchester was dead. I looked at Bob who shrugged at me sympathetically. "Wow… I didn't think that he would be…"

"I should have told you earlier, there are two Winchesters in Chicago at the moment, but it's the son and the younger brother," Bob elaborated.

The excitement in my chest quieted down with the sobering notion of the elder Winchester's demise, and I used the same spell I have earlier for Dean. It worked, this time, thankfully and I got up to follow where it would lead me. I put on my old black duster and told Bob I would return later that evening.

Funny thing about crystals is that they don't follow a straight line, nor do they follow the roads and streets of Chicago – they turn, and twist, without reason or rhyme but eventually it would get you to your destination. I expected that, but to my general surprise it was completely rigid and didn't stray from one direction, hell, it didn't even sway back and forth in a pendulum motion as I walked down the sidewalk, as if the string was a wire as solid as a pole. This meant that I zigzagged repeatedly before coming across an old hotel on the outskirts of town.

Chicago is a great city, with Lake Michigan lapping up against it and one can get virtually anywhere by walking, but I really dislike it when I get to the bad parts of town. Don't get me wrong, I usually do business with the "bad parts of town," but this was a bad cheap part – kind where faeries are prevalent and vampires usually haunt the corners waiting for homeless or nondescript persons to wander by.

It's really no surprise that the tracking spell led me here…

I marched up to the black Impala parked and eyed it with interest; the Winchesters had a nice taste in vehicles, Dean had been sure to rub that one in my face when we had first met. I had been getting into my own awesome car, the infamous Blue Beetle, when this beauty rolled down my street. The Beetle isn't so much blue as it once was, but it's the thought that counts, and it works, and it has survived a hell of a lot of beatings.

Their car had style. My car had stamina… which is what I told myself back then every time I saw it. I'm not jealous. I don't get jealous. What are you talking about?

The crystal pointed straight at one particular door, so I decided to just knock and see if he'd answer. Now, I know what you're thinking, hunters are jumpy, and they'll just as soon shoot you then ask questions as they would skip out of town the minute they'd finished their job.

I hoped that Dean wouldn't shoot me… that would have really ruined my day.

I knocked twice, proclaiming oh so cleverly that I was room service.

There was silence at the door for a moment, and I gave an impish grin to the lookout which I know someone was peering out of.

A tall dark-haired young man answered with a questioning look, "May I help you?"

"Is Dean there?" I ask, and as soon as it was out of my mouth I regretted it. More specifically, as soon as I pressed up against the door frame and realized this fact that I regretted it. I hate it when that happens, which is actually more often than I'd like to concede to, but still, come on, it always sucks.

"Hey now, I just wanted to talk to Dean Winchester," I mumbled out, and the only thing I got in response was to be pushed even harder. I could have used magic, but I didn't want to hurt the kid, heck, chances were this was the brother – seriously, and from what I gathered from their past I doubted that they liked buildings catching fire, a practice which I'm particularly good at.

I felt myself being shoved to the ground and a knee dig itself in my back. I heard the all-too familiar click of a handgun and the cold barrel butt up against my back.

Somewhere, I couldn't tell from which direction "Whoa now, Sammy… hold your horses."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw another figure move cautiously. It bent down low and whispered a small 'Cristo.' I knew that meant they wouldn't kill me for now at least, now to make sure Dean recognized me.

"Dresden?" the other figure choked out. I heard a playful punch, and then "Dude, get off him."

Oh, I loved the fact that the knee wasn't in my back; I was probably ten seconds from paying them to get off me. I brushed myself off and grinned, "Dean! Good to see you back in town. Good job with that Daeva case too, I heard about it through the grapevine."

Dean just smiled. The younger one looked confused as hell.

"Eh, messy business," Dean mused. I'm not one to make judgments, that's someone else's job, but Dean was obviously hiding something. I didn't want to press the issue - the look on his face was easy to read as one of a fake smile with sadness lurking underneath.

"Still, nonetheless, good work, I'm sorry I wasn't there to help out."

"Truth be told I hadn't even remembered to call you the case came so hard and fast."

"Umm… Dean?" The younger one ventured hesitantly.

A sobered for a moment, "Dean, I'm sorry about your father."

That shut the other one up. His mouth went from suspiciously open to clenched shut in a fraction of a second. The young man stared at me with calm, brown eyes, but I didn't look away from Dean.

The older brother was looking down at the floor, "It's no problem, it's… it's just rough you know?"

"Your dad was a good man. One of the best I knew," I said comfortingly. "It's a shame I didn't get to see him again before he died."

Dean didn't reply. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, so I held his shoulder, "Emotions are powerful things Dean, don't let them rule you. Resignation is one of the worse."

"Excuse me," the younger one found his voice and interjected, "Do I know you?"

I quietly laughed and made my way to the door, I wanted to give Dean space, I suppose I had opened up old wounds so I thought that I'd see him again the next day or some deal like that. Besides, the walk over had taken a little over an hour, the sun was setting, and Bob was expecting me back home before it got to be too late. "I'll be getting out of your hair now. If you want to get lunch somewhere or if you need any help look me up. Your brother knows where to find me."

I closed the motel door behind me.

After all, I'm Chicago's only professional spell caster. You'll find me under Wizards in the yellow pages. HARRY DRESDEN – WIZARD. Lost items found. Paranormal Investigations. Consulting. Advice. Reasonable rates. No love potions, endless purses, or other entertainment.