Hello everyone, I really should be revising, or updating one of my other stories… But this came to me in a dream (after continuously watching season 1 of Supernatural)!

NOTE: Voldemort was defeated completely when Harry was fifteen-months-old. Also, when I say 'she' in reference to Harry for the start of the story, it's not accidental.

* * *

"Soul Music"

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, et all are property of JK Rowling, and Bloomsbury, and Warner Bros and all those other nifty people that make it so we can read and watch the Potterverse whenever we feel like it. I make no money from this, just so you know. Supernatural is also not mine; I make no money from series and am certainly not the creators/writers/directors.

Summary: [Dean/HP] While traveling through San Francisco, the brothers stumble across Harry Potter singing in a bar. When Harry takes a man home that night, and the next morning the man is found horribly murdered, Sam can't help but become suspicious. Dean, wanting to spend more time with Harry, agrees to investigate, but what he finds might not be anything he likes. Crossover. AU.

Warnings: Slash. Dean/HP. Violence. Cross over. AU. Language. Character Death (minor). Song Lyrics.

Rating: NC-17 for violence and sexual situations.

A/N: So this would be my first Supernatural fiction (even though I should be revising), I seem to have become obsessed with crossovers. This doesn't take place in any of the seasons that I know of – I've only seen up to season 2.


Words: 10,715

Chapter 1/1

Soul Music

Trees whizzed passed. Sam turned his head away from the window, looking briefly over at his brother who was driving before he turned away again. He watched the road. The white dotted lines that marked the different lanes blurred together, becoming one continuous column as the Impala sped along the highway.

Their last hunt hadn't gone as easy as they had planned. As a result, they had agreed that they would take some down time, to just relax, heal a little bit. Then they'd move on, and find some other son of a bitch to kill. Sam snorted. Lord knows they'd never run out of evil to send back to hell.

"Thinking hard, Sammy?" Dean asked. He looked over at his brother, and smiled. Dean reached out for the radio, switching it on, and fiddling with the frequency settings. When he found a station he liked, he let it play. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the music. "What you thinking about?"

Dean Winchester was the elder brother. He was of average height, with dark hair and eyes, and he was handsome. Sam was taller than Dean, his skin fairer and he was blond and blue eyes. But he was also a very good-looking young man. Neither lacked for female attention, though Dean was more likely to take someone up on his or her offer than Sam was.

"Just our next hunt. I'm sort of itching for something to kill." He watched his brother's face, but Dean remained expressionless.

"Sammy, this was your idea. If you don't want to-"

"No! I do. I do, it's just, you know?" He didn't know how to explain it. Their last hunt had gotten someone killed, a friend of theirs. And they had destroyed the demon eventually, but that didn't change the fact that someone died, and Sam had been the one to kill them. Being possessed by a demon was not an experience Sam Winchester ever wanted to repeat.

"Yeah, I know." Dean sighed and looked back at the road.

They drove for half an hour in silence. Sam continued to stare out of the window, and Dean watched the road ahead of them, occasionally glancing in the rear view mirror. Once in a while, Sam jumped. Dean was used to it so he didn't so much as look over. Since Sam's girlfriend, Jessica, had been murdered a few years ago Sam hadn't quite been the same. On top of developing psychic abilities, he sometimes thought he could see her ghost watching him.

The blond haired woman at the side of the road, smiling sadly, was just a figment of his imagination. However, the dark haired figure walking along the Golden Gate Bridge at 4 in the morning was very real and alive.

"Dean, Dean, pull over!" Sam shouted, even as he began rolling down the window. "Hey! Miss!" The person turned their head, and smiled softly, but didn't come any closer to the car. He was walking at the edge, every once in a while he leant over the side and looked down at the black water below him. "Come away from the edge ok, it's not worth it. Whatever is wrong, I'm sure it'll work out."

"What are you talking about?" Harry Potter pushed his waist length hair back, pulling strands off of his face and tucking them behind his ears.

Dean continued to sit behind the wheel, but his eyes widened as they roamed over Harry's face before moving down to eye the boy's thighs and ass. Sam had jumped out of the car, and he had Harry by the shoulders. "Look, suicide is not the answer!"

"Suici-? What? No!" Green eyes lit up in amusement and he laughed. He only looked two or three years younger than Sam, which in the Winchester's opinion meant he was too young to be out alone this late at night. "I'm not trying to kill myself. I'm in San Francisco for work, but I live over that side. My car broke down so I decided to walk." He pointed across the Bridge, back the way Dean and Sam had come, and shrugged.

"You walked?" Dean asked, leaning out of the window.

"Well I'm not going to hitchhike! Do you know how dangerous that is? And the buses don't run this late, not even for me." Harry scoffed. "Now, thank you for your concern, but I have to go." He smiled at Sam, nodded at Dean and turned away from them both.

"Can we give you a lift?" Sam asked. His forehead creased in worry, not comfortable with letting a young girl walk around on her own.

Dean leered as Harry turned back around. "Can I see you again?"

With one more smile at Sam, Harry shook her head. He raised an eyebrow in Dean's direction and laughed. "The Moss Room, tomorrow at 7pm."1 Harry gave him a small smile, half amused and half curious. Dean was attractive – no question about it – but Harry wasn't sure how Dean would react when he found out that she was actually a he. "See you around boys."

He turned away from them and kept walking. The two brothers watched him go, and reluctantly Sam got back in the car. "Keep driving, Dean."

"She was, well, she was! Wow!" Dean whistled, then put the car in gear and hit the accelerator. "I think I'm going to like this vacation."


The Moss Room was pretty crowded by the time Dean and Sam arrived. It was dark inside, but they could see well enough. A few posters covered the walls, pictures of singers, famous and local, and one of them was of Harry. Dean stood for a moment, admiring the portrait. "Come on," Sam called.

Dean followed his brother to the bar, ordered two beers and then tried to find somewhere to sit. "She said she'd be here, man." Dean moaned. He laid his head in his hands on the table, glancing up at the stage with a sigh. "I've been stood up!" Sam patted him on the shoulder consolingly, offering him a sympathetic smile as he tried not to laugh.

The man that was singing on stage stopped, the song was over. He gave a bow, and a handful of people cheered happily for him. As he walked off of the stage, he stopped, turned back to the microphone and shouted, "Harry Potter!" The Moss Room burst into applause. Two people actually stood up on the table and started screaming Harry's name.

Dean and Sam looked at each other and shrugged. "He must be able to sing," Sam said with a chuckle.

"Either that or he's almost as hot as I am." Sam smacked Dean's shoulder. Though, secretly, he was amused by the comment. "I don't believe it," Dean said as Harry walked out onto the stage. "It's her!"

Harry started in on the first song immediately.

I see nothing in your eyes, and the more I see the less I like.
Is it over yet, in my head?
I know nothing of your kind, and I won't reveal your evil mind.
Is it over yet? I can't win.

His voice was soft and magical. Sam tensed as the words washed over him, his fingers digging into the table. He looked over at Dean. His brother, like pretty much everyone else in the bar, seemed completely entranced by Harry's singing; their eyes glazed over, their mouths parted, cheeks flushed, while their bodies swayed along with the music.

So sacrifice yourself, and let me have what's left.
I know that I can find the fire in your eyes.
I'm going all the way, get away, please.
You left a hole where my heart should be.
You got to fight just to make it through,
'cause I will be the death of you.

You take the breath right out of me.

"Sam, wow," Dean breathed. He didn't take his eyes off of Harry, nor did he turn his head even an inch in his brother's direction as he spoke. "Can she sing, wow."

Sam cringed at the tone Dean was using. He sounded as if Harry was air and water and everything else Dean needed to stay alive. His brother was positively in awe of this strange girl, and Sam didn't like it one bit. It reminded him a little of Meg. But on the other hand, the girl didn't seem evil. But the way her voice was captivating everyone was a bit like Andy Gallagher and how he could control people with his mind.

"Dean, do you think she could be like me? Psychic? Like Andy and Max?" Dean didn't answer him.

This will be all over soon.
Pour salt into the open wound.
Is it over yet? Let me in.

So sacrifice yourself, and let me have what's left.
I know that I can find the fire in your eyes.
I'm going all the way, get away, please.

Harry's body swayed side to side as he sang. Green eyes, which were naturally bright, seemed to be glowing, luminous in the dark.

Sam's own eyes narrowed. There was something supernatural going on here, and he would get to the bottom of it.

You take the breath right out of me.
You left a hole where my heart should be.
You got to fight just to make it through,
'cause I will be the death of you.

I'm waiting, I'm praying, realize, start hating.

As he drew close to finishing the song, he grinned widely, throwing his arms wide. His eyes landed on one person specifically, a man who was standing at the very back of the bar close to the exit and half hidden by shadows. Harry's smile dropped. He sang the last few lines the tone of his voice grew colder, and a few people in the audience shuddered.

Chills danced up Dean's spine and he twisted in his seat a little, trying to escape the harshness and anger that had suddenly become a part of the song.

You take the breath right out of me.
You left a hole where my heart should be.
You got to fight just to make it through,
'cause I will be the death of you.

"Well that was different," Dean commented after Harry had left the stage, three songs later.

"I think something supernatural is going on."

Sam didn't get an answer because Dean had spotted Harry and had begun walking towards him. "Hey, Dean Winchester." He said, holding his hand out, when he stopped in front of the younger man. "I didn't get your name last night, but now I know it." Dean gave a nervous laugh and scratched at the back of his neck. "You know, I'm usually good at this."

"This?" Harry asked, his voice just as musical as when he was singing.

Sam watched them talk, eyes narrowed. He put his hand to his head, trying to force himself to have a vision of Harry killing someone. He just needed to know if this girl was dangerous or not.

"Talking to girls, you know." Dean shrugged. Harry gave a small laugh but didn't say anything. "Harry's a strange name for a girl, isn't it?"

"It is." Harry agreed. "Fortunately, I'm not a girl." Harry had gotten used to being mistake for being a girl. Ever since his magical inheritance when he turned 17, men and women had been mistaking him for a member of the fairer sex. He had also gotten used to men becoming offended and verbally abusive when they realized they had hit on a man. He'd since learnt to just walk away while their brains were still processing.

When Dean finally opened his mouth to say something, Harry was gone. He spotted Harry again an hour later, talking to a tall brunette man at the bar. The man had his hands on Harry's waist, and the petite singer didn't appear to be discouraging him. Dean's eyes narrowed.

"Dude, you're staring at him."

"Am not," Dean insisted.

"You've been staring at him for the last hour, man."

"I thought he was a girl."

"That was the hour before last. For this last hour, you were staring at him, knowing he was male. There's nothing wrong with liking men, Dean. Just not him, ok? There's something weird going on with him." Sam looked over at his brother pleadingly, a small pout on his lips.

"Fine, come on. We'll go, and leave him to it."

They finished their beers and walked towards the door. The man Harry had been glaring at shouldered Dean as they passed him. Dean turned around to say something, but the man was already walking towards the bar, and Harry and his friend. "What was that about?"

"Jealous boyfriend, ex-lover, maybe?" Sam suggested, not really concerned.

"Let's go back to the motel."


Harry went home with David. That was the brunette man's name.

David was renting a room in a house downtown. The couple that owned the house had gone away for three months, touring the west of America and they wanted someone to keep an eye on the place. David was a nephew of the man's wife. He was more than happy to keep an eye on the place, paying barely any rent, and have somewhere to live for the summer. He was taking a year off work to travel and have fun.

He looked over at Harry as he opened his aunt's front door.

Oh, he was definitely having fun tonight.


Harry lived across the Golden Gate Bridge, towards California, in Marin County. He owned a modest two-story house close to the Sausalito Hotel, complete with a picket fence and a backyard. When he was finished with David, he called a cab and gratefully accepted the cab fare David handed over. Some people might feel cheap or whorish taking money after sex, but not Harry.

Harry had given David two free passes into Tiziano for three nights after, in return. Tiziano was a nightclub a few blocks away from The Moss Room, and it was fifteen dollars admission whenever live music was playing, and ten on a normal weekend night. Twenty dollars when it was Harry Potter singing. The cab fare worked out cheaper.

"I'll see you there?" Harry asked softly, just before he got into the back of the taxi.

"Yeah," David promised, and then went back into his aunt's house.

Harry let himself into his house and went to bed. At the same time, someone was letting themselves into David's house uninvited.


"Shit!" Sam cursed as he looked over the paper the next morning. "I don't believe it. Isn't that the guy who was at the bar with Harry last night?"

"Yeah the lucky bastard," Dean hissed, sipping at his coffee. "What I wouldn't give." He continued to mumble to himself.

"Not so lucky, bro." Sam handed the paper over.

Dean took it, and began reading out loud. "David Brookmore, 26, was found murdered in his home early this morning. Mr. Brookmore, who was housesitting for his aunt and uncle, the Saxtens, was last seen alive leaving The Moss House with local celebrity Harry Potter. Neighbours alerted the police after hearing glass smashing in the early hours of the morning. It is believed that Mr. Potter is not a suspect. Taxicab records show that Mr. Potter left the house an hour before the time of death. At this time, there are no other leads."

Dean turned the page over. On the back, in a small box at the bottom of the page, that began 'continues', he read, "the victim died at the scene, after having his heart ripped out of his chest. Police have not yet found the missing organ."

"Damn." Sam sighed. "I knew there was something wrong with him."

"Come on, man. Harry wasn't there. Cab records?"

"Dean! Come on, you know what the supernatural are capable of. What if he can be in two places at once? Or he ripped David's heart out with the power of his mind, or something?"

"Fine, fine, Sam. We'll do a little digging. Ask around. See if anything strange has happened to him in his life." Dean continued to flip through the paper. "Hey look. He's singing in Tiziano tonight. Wonder where that is?"

"You think it's worth checking out?"

"What the hell? Twenty dollars per person?!" Dean screwed the paper into a ball and chucked it into the bin beside him. "What a rip off."

"You still want to go, don't you?"

"Hell yeah, Sammy." Dean grinned. It had been a while since Sam had seen his brother so genuinely excited about something that didn't involve killing things. It was because of that reason alone that Sam agreed to go see Harry singing, and he offered to pay.

They spent the time between their morning coffee and when Tiziano opened camped out in the local library. Sheets of paper were strewn across the desk in front of them. Sam was typing on his laptop, searching for house fires or signs of an electrical storm or anything else that would indicate their yellow-eyed demon had visited San Francisco in the last fifty years.

A newspaper clipping popped onto the screen. A picture of Harry shouting at a red haired man took up half of the article. "Isn't he the guy who shoved you at the bar last night?"

"Yeah. That prick." Dean glared at the photo. "Potter breaks up," Dean read. "Ex-lover was right, Sam. But you think if Harry was killing people he would start with the jealous stalker type?"

"Nathan Baltimore," Sam read off the name of Harry's ex-boyfriend. He closed the screen, not seeing anything of importance, and continued searching. "Nothing about Harry Potter that's out of the ordinary, I guess. He's twenty-one. Moved here when he was seventeen, alone. His parents are dead, and he has no other relatives. He has a green card, owns his own house. No one has died in the house since it was built; it wasn't built on unholy ground or on a Native American burial ground, or anything like that. Nothing weird going on with the house. Same for the victim's house. Completely safe, unhaunted house."

"So, we have nothing?" Dean asked. He raised an eyebrow at his brother, and contemplated teasing Sam about making up a hunt where there wasn't one.

"Harry Potter showed up, out of the blue at the San Francisco police station. He was wearing," he turned the laptop over to Dean, "just look." A picture of Harry in traditional Wizarding robes took up the screen. There were two policemen in the photo and they seemed to be holding the boy up. Harry, though he was seventeen in the picture, only looked around fifteen. Dean's heart clenched at the pain he saw on the boy's face.

"He's scared." Dean said. "Do you think he was running from something?"

"He isn't old enough," Sam muttered to himself. "The power always manifests after the 22nd birthday. He isn't old enough."

"Maybe it's something else? Possession? He'd have to be strong or have claws to rip a heart out of someone's chest, especially if the person was still alive and struggling. Harry doesn't look all that strong. Could be mind control again? Another one of you psychic types out there Harry might have gotten on the bad side of?"

"You don't think it was him, do you?" Sam said softly.

"I don't."

"Then I trust you. But we should keep an eye on him just in case. Something is wrong here." The blond ran his hand through his hair and went back to surfing the Internet.


"Look, Nathan, I don't want you here." Harry stood outside of Tiziano, with his hands on his hips. Beside him, a queue was forming, people waiting impatiently in line to pay and head inside to see Harry. None of them seemed to realize that their idol was standing right beside them.

Harry used to be a Wizard. Unlike the magic users Dean and Sam had encountered before, Harry's magic came naturally to him. He didn't have to kill anyone, or make any sort of sacrifice to receive his magic. He had had it since he was born, just like his parents had. He had grown up away from magic, away from the world he had later grown to love. The magical community of Wizarding Britain became a new home to Harry, a fabulous world that he could lose himself in, where he never again had to be the neglected child of his past.

When children turn seventeen in his world, they always came into a magical inheritance. Gaining any dormant traits their parents may have had, the magic of the night unlocking any recessive gene that hasn't showed up in their family for generations. Harry inherited more than he had expected. What he became was something that he had never considered. A magical creature that was treated little better than Werewolves were. He could have a job, and a wand, and go out on his own, but only if he had a master. Someone to collar him and control him and keep him from killing people.

Harry had never killed a person in his life, and he had no intention to. Nor did he have any desire to live life as someone's pet. So he left England, and came to America. He had thought they were going to catch him, drag him back. Despite the fact that he was their saviour, he was terrified of them. The American Wizengamot granted him a green card, and transferred all of his parents' money over into American currency. And then they left him with the Muggles because they couldn't guarantee that American Wizards would be any kinder to his species than their English counterparts.

"Harry," Nathan said, reaching out a hand to touch the raven-haired male. "Don't be like that, baby."

"I told you last year, I never want to see you again. Stop following me everywhere."

"I love you, Harry!" Nathan cried. He grabbed Harry by the shoulders and shook him harshly. "I love you."

"You want to control me, own me. You don't know what love means." Harry pushed Nathan away, and the red head stumbled backwards.

"Easy there," Dean said, catching Nathan from behind.

"Get out of my way!" Nathan shouted, shoving Dean aside, before he took off running. He would come back later, once Harry let his guard down a little.

"Rude," Sam mumbled as he watched Nathan run off. "Hello again."

"Hey," Harry gave them both a soft smile. The bouncers had finally walked towards them, as Harry let down his notice-me-not charm. He silently wondered how Dean and Sam could see him through the charm. They would have had to have been looking specifically for him in that area, but why would they be doing that unless they knew the charm was there? "Are you coming inside?"

"Uh, yeah, hang on I just have to pay." Sam pulled his wallet out of his trouser pocket.

"It's on me." Harry offered, waving at the bouncers. The two men walked back to guarding the queue and Harry led the brothers into the nightclub. "Hey, I'm starting in a little while, so I'll talk to you after?"

"Yeah, we'd like that." Dean smiled warmly at the ravenette. "This is my brother Sam, by the way."

"Nice to meet you." Harry said, reaching out to shake Sam's hand.

Dean had gone through two beers before Harry came out onto the stage. It was the dais where the DJ usually played from, but it had been converted so that Harry and a band could play there for the evening. The music started, and Dean sat up straighter on his chair, grinning widely as Harry caught his eyes.

Good morning day
Sorry I'm not there
But all my favourite friends
Vanished in the air
It's hard to fly when you can't even run
Once I had the world, but now I've got no one

Harry started. His eyes slipped closed as he lost himself in the music. And just like the night before, everyone was utterly spellbound. It was like a charm had been set over the room, and everyone inside had fallen under its spell. Sam watched it all, unaffected, with a frown. Only one other person in Tiziano seemed to have escaped the magic's effect, and that was Nathan Baltimore.

If I needed someone to control me
If I needed someone to hold me down
I would change my direction
And save myself before I
If I needed someone to control me
If I needed someone to push me around
I would change my direction
save myself before I drown… drown.

Nathan stood stiffly, drink in hand, glaring at any man who dared look upon his Harry.

The glass in his hand cracked as his fist clenched around it. In his anger, he squeezed the barstool, not noticing how the metal bent and twisted in his grip. Rage settled over him as one man in particular caught his attention.

The man was around twenty, with shoulder length blond hair and a wide smile. He climbed up onto the table and pulled off his shirt. He threw it at Harry, who caught it deftly on stage, never once breaking his song.

Across the man's toned chest were the words, 'Fancy a Ride? 109 2133 4821'.

Good morning day
Sorry you're not here
All those times before
Where never this unclear
It's hard to walk when you can't even crawl
Once I had this world, but now I've lost it all

"That arrogant son of a bitch," Dean cursed, eyeing the blond on the table beside them.

"You're jealous?"

"Damn straight I am, bro. Shit. I'm not gay. I have never fancied a man before. But I can't help it; he's just, everywhere, in all of my thoughts. I can't get him out of my head." Dean rubbed at his temples, frowning. "It's bullshit, man."

"Dean, if you want him? Might be easier to protect him if you spend the night?"

"I don't want to treat him like a whore, Sammy." Dean sighed. "I think, maybe with time, he could be important to me. It's like I have this feeling, and you know I always follow my feelings. I think I could love him."

"We won't be here that long, bro," Sam said sadly.

Dean turned his head away, just as Harry looked over at him. "I know."

Sam looked away from the stage, his eyes travelling around the club. The blond from the next table was stumbling towards the bathroom. A red haired man was heading in the same direction. For a moment, Sam thought it might be Nathan, but then he dismissed the thought. Nathan took off earlier: he wouldn't have come back, right?

If I needed someone to control me
If I needed someone to hold me down
I would change my direction
And save myself before I
If I needed someone to control me
If I needed someone to push me around
I would change my direction
And save myself before I drown. 2b

Harry did three more songs, different from the night before. After about five more beers Sam managed to convince Dean it would be fun to dance on the table. Sam was practically wetting himself with laughter as Dean twisted and gyrated to Harry's cover of 'Zombie'2c. When Harry finished singing, Dean was too drunk to tell the end of one song from the start of another, and so he was still dancing when Harry slipped into the chair beside Sam.

"Hello, are you having fun?"

"Oh yeah!" Sam said, snapping another photo of Dean with his camera phone. "You're very good. Have you always sung?"

"No, not always. It sort of came to me after I moved here. I wasn't dreadful before, I just didn't enjoy it as much, I suppose. And no one else did either. Did you enjoy it?"

"It was good." Sam admitted, watching Harry warily.

The younger man chuckled. "Really, only good?" He looked up at Dean. "Dean, did you like my singing?"

The man stumbled off of the table. Harry caught him. The twenty-seven year old pressed himself against the younger brunette, and licked his lips. "Was spectacular, stupendous, stunning, seriously fantastic." He leant forward, his lips inches from Harry's.

"That's the reaction I usually get." Harry said with a chuckle.

Dean pressed their mouths together. It wasn't passionate, or romantic or anything else Dean usually boasted being good at. He was very drunk, and the kiss was wet and messy, but Harry didn't mind. He smiled into the kiss, and flicked his tongue out to trace the seam of Dean's mouth. The elder man pulled back with a moan, and Harry helped him into his seat.

"I feel like I just took advantage of him."

"He's been waiting for that kiss since he saw you on the Bridge."

"Do you think it'll disappoint?" Harry asked, casting a look in Dean's direction. He was slumped over the table, his head still bobbing even though he looked like his had passed out.

"Only if he wakes up alone." Harry's eyes widened, looking over at Sam in shock. "You don't have to do anything. Just stay at the motel with us tonight? That way Dean can spend some time with you in the morning?" And we can keep an eye on you, Sam added silently.

Anything Harry would have said was cut off as screaming started up in the direction of the men's bathroom. "Stay here," Harry said. Sam looked between Dean and Harry, unsure which one needed his protection the most.

A handful of bouncers had appeared beside Harry, and they pushed passed him and the other singers and band members that were crowding around the stage. Harry felt an arm drape around his neck, and he smiled at Blaise Zabini. The man was a fellow Wizard. They had never been particularly close at school, but after graduation Blaise had wanted to pursue a musical career against his parents wishes. He had been travelling as a manager for a band when he ran into Harry performing in the Rockit Room. After figuring out what Harry was and why he had left England, Blaise dropped out of the band and hung around as Harry's manager. He shared the house Harry owned, though he paid no rent he did contribute to the bills.

"What's going on, B?"

"Don't know. Stay here, out of the way."

"I'll stay safe," Harry promised, hearing the silent message in Blaise's words. Blaise was probably the only person other than Harry who knew what Nathan was capable of. Blaise could only hope that Nathan wasn't doing that again.

Sam appeared by Harry's side ten minutes later, just as the paramedics were beginning to arrive. "Dean's in the car. Will you come with me?"

"B, are you coming home tonight?"

Blaise shook his head. He owned half of Tiziano and he needed to stay around and deal with the insurance and the police and the dead body in the men's room. "I'll see you tomorrow. Go check into a motel or something. I don't want you at the house on your own, got it?"

"He'll be with my brother and I. We'll look after him." Sam promised.

"You'll probably get hurt around me," Harry whispered as Sam led him out of the nightclub.

"We can take care of ourselves, and you, I promise." He helped Harry into the front seat of the Impala, before moving around to get behind the wheel.

"Do you want me to drive?"

Sam shook his head and started up the car. Dean gave a moan and sat up. He had been sprawled in the backseat but now he held onto the back of Harry's headrest. He leant around the chair to press a kiss to Harry's cheek. "You come with us?"

"Yes." Harry said with a smile, eyes glowing in happiness.

"Mmm, good." Another kiss to Harry's cheek followed before Dean collapsed backwards, unconscious.

At the side of the road, Nathan watched them. His eyes were narrowed, and his clothes were dripping wet. He turned, punched the wall, and gave a satisfied smirk as the concrete cracked. A spider's web of fissures spread out from where his fist had impacted and Nathan walked away. Following the Impala down the street until he lost sight of it.


Sam left Harry and Dean sleeping, in separate beds, and headed back to the Tiziano. They hadn't checked out the house the first victim was killed in, but Sam was determined to get a good look at this place.

"Hey, Blaise right?" Blaise was tanned, with hazel eyes and black hair. Mediterranean looking; possibly Italian. "I'm Sam Winchester, a friend of Harry's." He held his hand out but Blaise only looked down on it with a sneer.

"You aren't a friend of Harry's. You're the brother of a man who was eyeing Harry at The Moss Room four nights ago." Sam's mouth dropped open. "I'm his only friend, he tells me everything."

"That's a little hard to believe. I'm sure he has a lot of friends."

"Harry has acquaintances. But I'm the only one he trusts, so I'm his only friend. Though he seems to trust your brother, somewhat. I've no doubt, that if not for Dean's presence in the car earlier tonight, Harry would never have gone with you." Blaise's eyes narrowed. "What is it you want?"

"Look, to be honest? We're investigators. We were passing through. We're on a holiday of sorts. Harry caught Dean's interest, so we decided to stay a little longer. Then that man was killed. I got a little suspicious, and now someone else has died. Both of them somewhat connected to Harry. I'm worried he-"

"Might be killing people?" Blaise asked, his voice tightly controlled but Sam could tell he was angry.

"-Might be a target." The blond finished.

"Well," Blaise said with a shrug. He seemed to have calmed slightly as well. "Why didn't you say so? The man's name was Adam Harvey, turned 20 two nights ago, and the blond that threw his shirt at Harry during 'Drown'."

"That twat? What happened? I saw him going into the bathroom with a red head but," Sam shrugged, looking passed the police tape. Blaise held a section of it up, waited until Sam had stepped under it and then followed.

"A red head?" Blaise actually growled.

"Holy shit!" Sam said, his eyes widening as he looked around.

"That's where they found him." Blaise pointed to the third cubicle. There were two urinals on the wall, and three stalls. Sam walked to the third one and gasped. The whole bowl of the toilet had been smashed until all that was left was a small porcelain pocket, filled with water. "He drowned in that."

"How was it broken?" One of the urinals had been ripped from the wall, and Sam could see the pieces littered across the floor. Water was trickling down the wall, sluggishly falling to join the puddle that had already formed.

"Some of the pieces look like play-dough after a kid has squeezed it." Blaise pointed and Dean ran the EMF reader over it. There were indents in the sides of the porcelain, shaped like fingers, as if a fist had closed around the bowl of the toilet. "The police think it might be someone on steroids or PCP." Blaise shot Sam a look. He could tell that Sam wasn't entirely Muggle.

"Oh, and what do you think it was?"

"Personally, Nathan Baltimore. But I don't know how to explain the super strength." Sam frowned. Blaise pushed open the door to the second cubicle. "Look at that."

"Shit on Satan." Sam cussed.

There was a hole in the wall, shaped like an adult. Whoever had killed Adam Harvey had beaten through the wall to escape the nightclub. "I can't get my head around it man. Think of the insurance premiums. What do I claim under? Act of god? Cause that sure as hell wasn't a human!" Sam gave the other man a wide-eyed stare, unsure of what to say. "So what kind of creature do you think it is?"

"I'm sorry, what?" Sam stuttered.

"Don't act stupid, Muggle. I know you aren't completely normal. Now, tell me, what is Nathan, and how do I kill him?"

"He might be human," Sam protested.

"If he hurts Harry, then I'm going to kill him. Human or not." Blaise promised.

"Um, I'm going to go back and check on Harry and Dean. I'll get him to ring you or something." Sam told him as he backed out of the bathroom. He got into the Impala and drove off.


Dean woke with a groan. His whole head was throbbing and the sunlight that was streaming in through the window wasn't really helping. There was something though that cheered him up suddenly. Dean felt a smile stretch over his face, as he sat up in the bed, stretching his arms above his head.

"Cause it's you and me and all of the people with nothing to do, and nothing to lose. And it's you and me, and all of the people, and I don't know why, I can't keep my eyes off of you,"2d Harry sang softly, his eyes fixed on Dean's face. "Good morning."

"Keep singing," Dean asked softly. And Harry did. As Harry sang, Dean felt his hangover melt away. Harry was happy that morning, and so was Dean, now that he had heard Harry singing. "What are you?"

"Siren."3 Sam said suddenly. Dean's head snapped around to look at his brother. Sam was sitting at the table, his laptop open in front of him.

"What's a siren?" Dean asked. Harry tensed up, his entire body stiff and unmoving, his face was pale and if he were to start singing then anyone who heard him would have felt overwhelming terror without knowing why.

"In Greek mythology, the Sirens were three dangerous bird-women, portrayed as seductresses, who lived on the flowery island of Anthemoessa." Sam told them, reading straight off of Wikipedia. "Some cultures believe they were birds with the faces of women, others believe they were women with the wings and legs of birds. Some even claim that they are really mermaids, only they grow legs when they step out of water."

"We aren't sea creatures," Harry told them. He spoke softly, still a little afraid. It had been a long time since he had faced someone who was only learning about what he was. "Traditionally, if a ship strayed too close to the island of Anthemoessa, the Sirens would sing to the sailors, luring them into the water. Once they had drowned, the Sirens would drag them onto the island and feed on their flesh. The corpses would then be left back on their ship, and their ship pushed away from the island and let to sail across the water until another ship spotted it."

"Sirens are always girls." Sam pointed out.

"Yes." Harry agreed, "but sometimes males can carry the recessive gene. In my family, my father's ancestor married a female siren. A couple generations of only male children later, and the siren gene was still there, only recessive. Eventually, when my mum and dad had me, I was magically powerful enough to be considered a bearer. Meaning, even though I'm male, I can have children naturally. Apparently the siren gene took that to mean I'm female where it counts."

"So…" Dean said slowly, "You're a mythical creature who can get pregnant, and drowns men, and eats them?"

"The victim last night drowned." Sam pointed out.

Harry's mouth dropped open. "I was with you the whole time! And I'm not a cannibal!" He stood up and slipped his feet into his shoes.

"Hey, hey," Dean said, jumping from the bed. He grabbed Harry's hands and held them tightly. "Don't leave. We're sorry. It's just, usually, when we run across something supernatural, it wants to kill us."

"Blaise thinks it might be Nathan." Harry whispered, looking away from the others.

"Can you tell me about him?" Dean asked. He shared a look with Sam over Harry's shoulders, and Sam nodded. Sam began to look at his laptop again, searching for anything that could make Nathan their killer. "When did you meet him?"

"We met at the Hayes & Vine, it's a wine bar in Marin County. It was about a year ago, and he seemed really nice. He was celebrating his twenty-second birthday the night I met him. Later on, he used to say it was like fate, that we met that night. He said a lot of things happened to him that night, but I was the best of them." Harry took a deep breath and sat on the bed beside Dean.

"After about five months he used to get really angry for no reason. I had my own place, but he didn't like that I shared with Blaise, and he didn't like that I wouldn't move in with him, and he didn't like how I wouldn't let him move in with me either. We were out one night, and I honestly thought he was about to hit me. I froze, didn't duck, but he didn't hit me. He hit the wall; purposely he said, he promised he would never hurt me. I was so scared. I've seen some weird shit, believe me, I am one of the weird things. But, damn, there was a hole in the wall."

"Like he had super strength?"

"Yeah," Harry said looking over at Sam. "What is it?"

"After the first guy died, I came across this but ignored it since it was about Nathan and not you. But… Have a look Dean."

Dean walked over to the laptop and read off of it. "Well fuck." Nathan Baltimore, born and raised in San Francisco. Moved to Marin County around the same time Harry did, and his mother died in a fire in his nursery on the night he turned six-months-old. "He's one of them, Sammy."

"Only, I see visions of people about to die, and he gets to be the Incredible Hulk!" Sam slammed his hand on the table, looking guilty when Harry flinched. "That's not fair."

"Well at least we know what we're dealing with." Dean said.

"I don't," Harry told them softly.

"It's a long story, sort of a family thing," Sam started.

But Dean interrupted him. He told Harry everything: about their mom, their dad, the Yellow-eyed demon, and Max, Andy and the others like them. When he was finished he smiled softly at Harry. "Starting to regret meeting us yet?"

"No," Harry whispered softly. When Dean grinned at him, Harry allowed a blush to spread across his face. "I'm very pleased I met you. Both."

Dean and Sam chuckled at Harry's pause in speech, and the boy blushed brighter. "That's good to know," Sam said, "It's nice to be included once in a while."

"Ok, seriously. What are we going to do about your nutter ex-boyfriend?" Dean asked, shooting a worried look in Harry's direction. "We can't kill him if he's human."

"Blaise offered to, if he hurts Harry." Sam told them, rolling his eyes at the annoyed expression on Dean's face. "You and Blaise good friends, Harry?"

"We went to school together, but we never really spoke. He showed up about three years ago. I'd already been here for a year. He just never left."

"Lover?" Dean asked. Harry could practically feel the jealousy rolling off of him in waves.

"Blaise and I? Never. Just very good friends."

"Good friends, like you'd miss him if he died. Or good friends, like if you died he'd bring you back from the dead?"4 Dean smacked Sam on the shoulder, but the blond carried on looking at Harry, waiting for an answer.

"You don't mess with Necromancy. It'd be a shell, not a person. A horrible, violent shell of what you once were." Harry shook his head. Thoughts of Inferi going through his mind. When they had learnt about the walking undead in classes, he had never expected the teacher to actually make a few and attack the class with them. He shuddered. It hadn't been pleasant.

"That's good to know." Dean said.

"Yeah, bro, now you can sleep at night." Sam paused, trying to look completely innocent. "And have a cold shower the second you wake up." Dean looked like he was ready to kill. Harry laughed though, and they turned back to him.


"Right so a month after I broke things off with Nathan, about half a year ago now actually. I was singing; um, 'stab my back, it's better when I bleed for you'2e is the only line you really need to know. Nathan kept texting me that line, over and over, and then he followed me home one night. This guy, I brought him home with me, and well obviously you know. He left anyway; I didn't see Nathan around, so I thought nothing of it. The guy I slept with was murdered the next day. Stabbed in the back fifty-seven times with a screwdriver. Nathan wasn't even charged: there wasn't enough evidence." Harry was shaking by the time he had finished. Dean took him into his arms, holding the younger man against his chest.

"You sure know how to pick them." The brunette joked, pressing a soft kiss to Harry's forehead. "We'll protect you, I promise."


Sam wasn't sure how they were going to deal with this mess, but one thing was for sure. Dean seemed to agree with Blaise. Anyone who tried to hurt Harry was going to get wasted. The brunette Winchester tucked a Smith & Weston into the waistband of his jeans, and covered the bulge with his jacket. "I'm ready, bro." Sam nodded at him, patting down his pants pocket, where he had another gun tucked away.

Harry frowned at them both. "We're only going to dinner. It'll be fine."

"Look, three men are dead because of Nathan Baltimore. I'd rather you not be a forth." Dean grabbed Harry's face. His thumb lightly stroked over the boy's check. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, as he leant his face towards Harry's. The younger man moved onto his toes, raising himself higher so he could actually reach Dean's mouth. Sam watched them kiss, smiling softly. He turned his face away after a while, content just to let them be, but when they showed no signs of stopping he cleared his throat loudly.

"Can Harry have his tongue back yet, Dean?" He asked, opening the motel room door. "Come on, let's leave!"

They piled into the Impala. Dean was driving.

The Thanh Long Restaurant was busy when they pulled up outside. A valet held his hands out for the car keys, and Dean reluctantly parted with them. "Not one scratch," he warned the teenager who was waiting impatiently at the curb. "Do you hear me?"

"Dean!" Sam hissed, elbowing his brother. "Chill out." He nodded his head in Harry's direction. The younger man had already entered the restaurant, his arm cradled in the crook of a waiter's elbow. Dean narrowed his eyes and followed them, Sam trailing after him.

"I'm sorry, do you have reservations?" The Maitre D' asked, holding his hand out to stop the brothers from entering. Sam sighed as he caught a glimpse of what everyone inside was wearing. Dresses, and dinner suits, and ties, and formal shirts. Even Harry had dressed up nicely, where as Dean and Sam had just thrown their jackets over their t-shirts and jeans. "I think the Rockit Room would be more to your tastes, sirs. They'll be beer, and sports, and," he waved his hand as he tried to think, "and snacks at the Rockit Room."

"We're with him," Dean said pointing inside. Harry was sitting at a four-person table with Blaise opposite him. He was looking around questioningly, unable to spot Dean or Sam. "HARRY!" Dean shouted, and the brunette's head snapped up.

Harry waved at them, beckoning them inside. The Maitre D' frowned, eyeing their clothing with distaste, but eventually moved out of the way to let them pass. "Thanks Harry," Sam said, sitting down beside Blaise.

Dean took the empty chair beside Harry. He took hold of Harry's hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. "My hero!" He murmured. "If not for you, we would have had to wait outside all night. That would have been lame."

"You could of gone away," Blaise said, throwing a glare at Dean. "I'm afraid I don't approve." The Italian told his friend.

"Blaise. I haven't liked someone in a very long time, ok?" Harry pouted. "Play nice?" He turned to Dean, "what are you ordering?" He held over his copy of the menu, making Blaise share his with Sam.

"Uh, I can't read any of this." Dean moaned. Harry let his lips twitch into a smile for a brief moment. He waved his hand over the menu and the words changed immediately into English. "How did you-?"

"Magic," Harry told him simply. Before Dean could protest or argue, he tilted his head up and claimed the other man's lips again.


(Slash Scene Starts)

Hands tangled through his hair, pulling his head up for another kiss. Harry moaned as Dean's fingers tightened in his hair. Harry's hands moved to grab Dean's shoulders, drawing their torsos closer together. A cry escaped him. Dean's hands were on his arse, lifting him up. Harry jumped, his legs locking around Dean's waist, ankles hooking at the base of Dean's spine. His hands moved up to cup the man's face, their lips still pressing against each other's, over and over. Tongues tangled, tracing lips and gums and teeth; hands roamed, shedding clothing and stroking over sweat slicked skin; moans and groans rent the air as Dean pressed his hips harder against Harry's.

"Dean, Dean," Harry whispered.

The man moaned into Harry's mouth, reclaiming it and pressing the Siren against the wall. They were both shirtless. Panting, Harry pulled back.

"Bedroom." He whispered. His cheeks were flushed; eyes glassy; and Dean thought he was the most perfect creature he had ever seen. "First room, top of stairs."

Dean carried him up the stairs. The door opened easily, and Dean walked inside, not bothering with the light switch. He lay Harry down on the bed. Dean took off his shoes, before crawling towards the Siren, who lay sprawled where Dean had left him, still panting. He pulled off Harry's shoes and socks, and unzipped his own jeans. The gun fell to the floor with a soft thump.

Harry's hands trembled as he pushed down his slacks. He wasn't wearing any boxers, and Dean bit back a groan as the Siren's pale skin was revealed to him. His own jeans were open, but still on him, hanging loose around his hips. "You are beautiful," he whispered. He pressed his face to Harry's thigh, spreading the boy's legs wider as he settled between them.

His tongue flicked out over Harry's cock. The Siren was hard. Harry bucked his hips, thrusting closer to Dean's mouth, which opened and swallowed the boy's member to the root. Harry gave a cry, and then muffled a second by pressing his hands over his mouth.

"I want to hear you," Dean said, pulling back. When Harry's hands were away from his face, the Hunter lowered his head again, taking his lover into his mouth. This was his first blowjob given, but from the noises Harry was making he seemed to be doing a good job. His fingers moved lower. He scratched his nails lightly against Harry's perineum and the boy's hips lifted off the bed again. Dean pressed a finger against the Siren's opening, and then pulled it back shocked.

"Anatomically built for sex and child bearing," Harry panted out. "I come ready lubed."

"I was just going to assume," Dean said as he crawled up to lay on top of Harry fully, "that you were very eager, and that's why you spent so long in the loo in the restaurant." He shimmied out of his jeans and kicked them off the end of the bed. "Do I still need to, you know?"

"Prepare me? No." He raised his head again, and Dean met his kiss fervently. "Inside now," Harry panted as Dean trailed kisses along the column of his throat.

"Thank god," Dean moaned. He spread Harry's legs wider, encouraging the Siren to wrap them around his waist. He took himself in hand, and lined himself up with Harry's entrance. "Ready?" He asked, before thrusting forward slowly. He penetrated the other man slowly, inch by agonizing inch. Harry groaned, his hands on Dean's shoulders, the nails digging in to the skin of his back. He tightened his legs and thrust upwards, forcing Dean to enter him quicker.

"Ride me," he demanded. Dean let out a chuckle, and drew back. Then he thrust forward again, a smug grin on his face as Harry cried out, "DEAN!"

They moved together. Their pace hurried, furious and intense. But neither had anything to complain about. They clung to one another, their lips brushing lightly at times, and at other times meeting as passionately as other parts of their anatomy.

Harry came with a cry, his back arching as he tightened his hold on Dean with his arms and legs. Dean's hips jerked sporadically. His hand clenched around Harry's shaft, milking it as the Siren rode through the aftershocks. Dean pressed his face against Harry's neck, panting harshly.

"Come for me, Dean," Harry whispered.

With a groan, the brunette orgasmed. One hand fisted the sheets beside Harry's head, the other pressed against Harry's stomach, smearing the Siren's come across the boy's skin. He rolled over, not wanting to crush the much smaller man, and then smiled. Harry curled up against him, his head in the crook of Dean's arm, and his own arms wrapping around Dean's chest.

(Slash Scene Ends)

"I thought you said you could get pregnant?" Dean asked slowly, his eyes going round.

"I can. Don't worry. I have that thingy inserted under my skin. It releases hormones for three months at a time, telling my body it shouldn't release an ovum."

"How do you-? Why would-? Only girls get those." Dean stuttered.

"You aren't the only person who has mistaken me for a female. My doctor thinks 'Harry' is short for 'Harriett' and I've never corrected him." Harry shrugged. "Now go to sleep."

"How am I supposed to sleep now? I'm on a high!" He squeezed Harry against his chest before releasing the Siren. "I don't want to lose you."

Harry didn't reply to the last comment. Instead, he began to sing. "Rock-a-bye baby, in the tree top, when the wind blows the cradle will rock. When the bough breaks the cradle will fall, and down will come baby, cradle and all." By the time Harry had finished, his magic had already washed over his lover. Dean was fast asleep.

In the next room over, Blaise rolled his eyes. He turned off his headphones, listened for any more noise. When he was satisfied that Harry was satisfied, he lay back and prepared to go to sleep. He and Sam had left before the other two, leaving Harry and Dean to their conversation. The cab had only begun pulling away from the house when the two had attacked each other, kissing and groping. Sam actually regretted peeking out of the guest room window to check on his brother. Coupled with what he had just heard, Sam really didn't want to deal with anything else that went with 'Dean' and 'sex' ever again.

Blaise woke up four hours later when he heard Harry screaming.


Harry's eyes snapped open. He knew instantly that something was wrong. He reached over Dean to switch on the bedside lamp. It turned on, but the light kept flickering. Shaking his head, Harry turned it back off. He waved his hand instead. Since his inheritance he had become very good at using wandless magic.

"Lumos," he said, and the room lit up completely.

Harry held back a scream as someone climbed onto the bed beside him. The other man's hand was clamped over Harry's mouth, but green eyes widened in fear and recognition as Nathan moved to straddle his ex-boyfriend. Nathan pulled down the sheets covering Harry, and let his eyes rake over all of that pale skin.

"You are beautiful," he wheezed. His chest heaved, as lust coursed through him. "I've missed you so much. I love you so much. Why would you betray me? You were supposed to be with me, always with me. He promised me that you would belong to me."

Rage welled up inside of the Siren. He didn't belong to anyone, he wasn't an animal or a pet and he needed no master. He bit down on Nathan's hand. The red head cried out, and Harry shoved as hard as he could. Nathan fell to the floor. "I belong to no one!" Harry hissed.

Nathan grabbed him, his hand fisting into Harry's hair. "You will belong to me. He promised." He dragged Harry from the bed. The brunette screamed; he could feel the hair ripping from his head. No doubt, Nathan was strong enough to lift Harry one handed, but Harry's hair was strong enough to resist gravity.

Dean rolled out of the bed. Harry hadn't even known he was awake, but the Hunter was now crawling across the floor, reaching for the gun he had discarded earlier.

The door slammed opened, banging off of the wall. Nathan turned around, holding Harry in front of himself as a shield. The Siren trembled, tears spilling onto his cheeks as Blaise lowered the gun he had been aiming previously. Sam looked into the room, eyes wide. He lowered his gun as well. His was only loaded with rock salt, but he couldn't fire it without hitting Harry anyway. Nathan smirked at them both.

"He promised me. He told me I was special, and that Harry was meant for me. I was special, and I deserved someone just as special, he said. Harry belongs to me because I'm special."

"This guy, he didn't have yellow eyes did he?" Sam asked trying to keep Nathan's attention on them.

"He doesn't belong to you, you freak," Dean hissed.

He had been crouching behind the bed, and he stood now, his own gun held in his hand. He took a deep breath and fired. Nathan's head exploded, brain and bone shards flying across the room from the force of the impact. Harry screamed again. He dived to the floor, his arms above his head protectively. Blaise ran to him, scooping the naked boy into his arms.

"It's ok, it's ok," he whispered, knowing that he was lying but not being able to help himself. "It's ok."

"It's a good thing he's so short," Sam said, trying to lighten the mood. Dean ignored him, pulling on his jeans.

He knelt down in front of Harry. "I'm sorry." He whispered. "Do you want me to go?" He held his breath, waiting for Harry's answer. Though it almost broke his heart to ask, he needed to know if Harry was going to be like Cassie. It was better for him to cut ties now, instead of later. Dean wasn't ready to fall in love again only to get drop kicked in the heart.

"Stay with me," Harry whispered. It was barely audible, and Dean wasn't sure he had even heard the Siren correctly. But Blaise was suddenly pushing Harry forward, offering the boy to Dean, and the Hunter took the burden unhesitant. He cradled him. "Don't leave me, please." Harry begged as he wrapped his arms around Dean's neck, holding him tightly.

"I won't. I won't, unless you want me to." Dean promised.

No one got anymore sleep that night. Blaise went downstairs, and came back a while later with three mugs of black coffee. Dean drank his while holding onto Harry, who remained awake and silent though he had stopped crying. Sam drank his while sitting on the edge of Harry's bed looking at weapons for sale on e-bay. And Blaise drank his while standing in the threshold of the room, observing Dean who seemed to care about Harry very much.

Blaise admitted he didn't like the Hunter at first. But Dean was starting to grow on him.


Three weeks later.

"I was thinking," Dean said as he walked into Harry's bedroom. "Why don't you come with us for a while?"

He and Sam had practically moved in with Harry and Blaise after the night Nathan died. Harry and Blaise had used magic the next morning to clean everything up. The body had disappeared, the blood and brains had vanished and no one was asking questions about Nathan Baltimore's disappearance. Sam was a little wary, understandably, but he let it drop after Dean purposely drove a mile and a half with Sam's bag strap caught in the door, and Sam running down the street attached to the Impala.

Harry looked up at him with a wide smile. He was composing a new song. The words were already written, and now it was just a matter of adding the right music at the right time.

"You know we're leaving tomorrow on a hunt? Well we don't know how long we'll be, so I was thinking maybe you could come with us for a week or two. See how you like it? If you hate it, we'll bring you straight back. We could drop in every month for a weekend; spend some time together if not. If you don't like that, then just tell me to go fuck myself." Dean trailed off nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

"I would love to."

"Tell me to go fuck myself?" Dean squeaked. He wondered if that was considered a break up?

"No, silly," Harry said as he stood from the bed. He took hold of Dean's hands, and pressed a chaste kiss to the Hunter's lips. "I would go anywhere with you."

"It'll be dangerous."

"I can take care of myself. And anyway, Blaise will be coming, so it'll be just like going on tour."

"What? Blaise?" Dean chuckled. "Uh, no, I think, no." He was shaking his head frantically. Blaise might have warmed up to him a little, but they were anything but friends.

"Yes, Blaise. We can't split him and Sam up now!"

"Sam and Blaise? Sam is straight, Harry, very straight." The Winchester chuckled again, moving forward to pull Harry against his chest. "Very straight."

"So were you once," Harry whispered, punctuating each word with a kiss to Dean's mouth.

"You have a good point," Dean conceded, trying to draw Harry into a deeper kiss. "But Sam is still straight."

"And he loves Blaise," Harry said while reaching down to stroke Dean's growing erection through his jeans.

"Yes," Dean agreed, thrusting his hips forward.

"Great!" Harry exclaimed, pulling away completely. "I'll just go ask Blaise if he wants to come with us for a few weeks." He practically skipped out of the room.

Dean watched him go. He blinked three times, just to be sure, and then flopped back onto the bed. "Bloody unbelievable." He moaned, looking down at the tent in his pants with a frown. "Unbelievable."

"I love you too," Harry shouted up the stairs. Dean smiled to himself. He was happier than he could ever remember being, even with Cassie, or when his mom was alive. If bring Blaise along on a hunt was what it took to be happy, then it was a very small sacrifice to make.

"I love you," he breathed quietly.

He didn't need to shout. Harry already knew.

The End

* * *

1 – All of the places mentioned actually exist in San Francisco. I don't know if I got their purposes correct, for example I don't know if The Moss Room actually permits live bands, but that is artistic license for you.

2 – The songs:

a "Breath", by Breaking Benjamin;

b "Drown", by Three Days Grace;

c "Zombie", by The Cranberries;

d "You and Me", by Lifehouse;

e "Stab My Back", by The All-American Rejects.

3 – Sirens are always female, but I didn't want to make Harry a girl (despite the fact that the Winchesters thought he was one anyway). See wikipedia for more information.

4 – See: Season 2, "Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things".

* * *

Thanks again for reading. Please leave a review… Muses are like Sirens. If you don't feed my muse, I'll set her on you!