Chapter 13: Swan Song

Early September 2010

After months of planning and tracking, a temperature drop of about 20 degrees in a five-block radius of downtown Detroit finally allowed the boys to know where Lucifer was. The gang arrived in Detroit where Sam shared an emotional goodbye with both Castiel and Bobby. He also personally requested Dean never to bring him back once he was in Hell. Bobby told him not to give an inch and to fight with all his strength against Lucifer while Castiel tells him that he will look after Dean and Bobby and that everything will be fine, although he admits he is lying. Sam drinks the demon blood – gathered by Harry discretely with Crowley's assistance - and he and Dean go to confront Lucifer.

They got caught immediately by two goons and taken to Lucifer…

Sam and Dean were held in place by demon goons while Lucifer stared outside. He breathed on the window pane and drew a pitchfork in the condensation. "Sorry if it's a bit chilly. Most people think I burn hot. It's actually quite the opposite."

Dean looked at the devil, "Well, I'll alert the media."

Lucifer turned around, his face covered with red sores. "Help me understand something, guys. I mean, stomping through my front door is... a tad suicidal, don't you think?"

Sam jumped in, "We're not here to fight you."

"No? Then why are you?"

"I want to say 'yes.'"

Pause.

Three… Two… One…

"Excuse me?"

Sam took a breath, closed his eyes, and the two demons holding them dropped dead in flashes of light.

Lucifer whistled, "Chock-full of Ovaltine, are we?"

"You heard me. Yes."

Lucifer stared at Sam, "You're serious."

"Look, Judgment Day's a runaway train. We get it now. We just want off."

"Meaning?"

Sam pointed at Lucifer, "Deal of the century. I give you a free ride, but when it's all over, I live, he lives, you bring our parents back…"

Lucifer interrupted, "Okay, can we please drop the telenovela? I know you have the rings, Sam."

The Winchester's paused, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The Horsemen's rings? The magic keys to my Cage? Ring a bell? Come on, Sam. I've never lied to you. You could at least pay me the same respect. It's okay. I'm not mad. A wrestling match inside your noggin... I like the idea. Just you and me, one round, no tricks. You win, you jump in the hole. I win... Well, then I win. What do you say, Sam? A fiddle of gold against your soul says I'm better than you." (2)

Sam stared at Dean, "So he knows. Doesn't change anything."

Dean tried to contain himself, "Sam."

"We don't have any other choice."

"No."

Sam stared at Lucifer, in fear but not deterred, "Yes."

Lucifer smiled, closed his eyes and bright light emanated from him, nearly blinding Bobby and Castiel who were watching the building blaze with light, then dim.

Dean got up after a few seconds, seeing Sam motionless on the floor. He quickly took out the Horsemen's rings out of his pocket and threw them at the wall, where they stuck.

Dean stuck out his hand, chanting, "Bvtmon...Tabges...Babalon", after which the rings mystically opened up to Lucifer's Cage. Air sucked into it, making a sound which stured Sam awake, causing Dean to come to him.

"Sammy!"

"Dean!"

"Sammy!"

Sam, clearly in pain, groaned as he struggled to get to the hole in the wall, "I can feel him. Oh, god!"

"You got to go now! Come on! Go now, Sammy. Now!"

Sam walked towards the hole and took some deep breaths. He then smiled and turned back to Dean, "I was just messing with you. Sammy's long gone."

Sam turns back to the hole in the wall, raising his arm while Dean watched, "Chdr bvtmon tabges babalon."

As the hole closed, Sam goes up to the wall and removes the Horsemen's rings from the wall. "I told you... this would always happen in Detroit."

Sam began to turn and leave, but he paused as Dean put his hands to his head in oncoming tears, "Then again, I am the 'Prince of Lies.'"

Shock registered on Deans face as he was pushed towards the wall by Sam, his hand stuck out. Dean struggled to push away, but the pressure on his neck was building up. Sam slowly walked up to his former brother, "Rumor has it that your half-brother is currently hosting my brother. Now, I could leave you alive seeing as how now you may actually be desperate enough to say 'yes' to Michael and save your brother – as you are the better vessel. But no, am not taking that chance."

Sam hand slowly closed into a fist, increasing the pressure on Dean's neck. "I am going to enjoy torturing your brother with this memory – over, and over, and over again…"

Dean began to blank out when something teleported into the room. Lucifer didn't have enough time to react before the intruder got his hands on Dean and teleported him out.

Lucifer reacted too late but still managed to push the intruder toward the wall. He walked into the dim light and finally got a good look at the intruder.

"Ah yes, you are… Harry, right? Sam's memory regarding you is rather vague."

Harry smiled, body stuck to the wall, "Very intentional on my part."

"How did you teleport into this room? My presence alone should prevent anyone from entering this room, my will ensures that no one can teleport in."

Lucifer started to look outside, but Harry smiled, "Don't bother. I already teleported Bobby and Castiel safety away. I used the rest of my energy getting in here and rescuing Dean."

The smile that was on Lucifer's faltered into a frown before he resumed and added pressure to Harry. Harry grunted in pain, coughing a little blood before he chuckled, "Go ahead – I made my piece with this. My guardians will understand – they will hate the Winchesters afterward, but they will understand." (3)

Lucifer anger only rose, pushing harder and harder at Harry. The wall began to crack, but Harry kept laughing, "I knew this was coming… told me there was going to be a price… Worth it to end the Apocalypse…"

At that mention, the pressure stopped, but Lucifer came up and grabbed Harry with his actual hands, lifting him up, "Just for that – and your past interferences – I won't kill you. No, I will make it slow… I am a little rusty after all this time… Maybe I'll use as a practice run for what I will do to Dean later."

Harry smile never faltered, "Bring it on. I've been through Hell already… I bet your technique is out of date…"

Lucifer slammed Harry's head against the wall, "Just for that, I am gonna waterboard you… with some hydrochloric acid. Then I will skin you alive while roasting your innards. You mentioned to Sam that you aren't exactly human. Let's see how long your healing lasts before you finally give."

Harry smile finally faltered, but rather than be replaced with fear, he face was replaced with determination.

Gabriel taught him once how to dissociate himself from pain in the rare cases he wasn't around to heal him.

Time to see how long he can hold out.

The fire that Sam summoned in his hand made Harry flinch…

Can't show fear… Can't show pain…

Lucifer put his hand on Harry's chest, burning through his clothes, "Got to clean you up first. The doctors say to use hot water and soap to disinfect – I prefer this method."

Harry didn't do anything – eyes didn't waver, mouth didn't twitch, not a tear was shed. Inside though… the less said, the better. He tried to think of anything to ignore the pain. Unfortunately, only a song came to mind…

"I hurt myself today

To see if I still feel

I focus on the pain

The only thing that's real

The needle tears a hole

The old familiar sting

Try to kill it all away

But I remember everything…" (4)

Bobby House – A few hours later…

The news was playing on the television, "Reports are flooding in – a 7.6 earthquake in Portland, 8.1 in Boston, more in Hong Kong, Berlin, and Tehran. The U.S.G.S. has no explanation but says to expect a six-figure death toll."

Castiel was first to speak, "It's starting."

Dean looked up from his hands, "Yeah, you think, genius?"

"You don't have to be mean."

"So what do we do now?"

"I suggest we imbibe copious quantities of alcohol... Just wait for the inevitable blast wave."

"Yeah, swell. Thank you, Bukowski (5). I-I mean, how do we stop it?"

Castile shook his head, "We don't. Lucifer will meet Michael on the chosen field, and the battle of Armageddon begins."

"Okay, well, where's this chosen field?"

"I don't know."

"Well, there's got to be something that we can do.

Castiel sat down before opening up a beer, "I'm sorry, Dean. This is over."

Dean rushed the angel, grabbing him by the shoulder, "You listen to me, you junkless sissy – we are not giving up! We did not get rescued by Harry just for us to give up so easily! Bobby? Bobby?"

The old man sat in silence, "There was never much hope to begin with. I don't know what to do."

Chuck's House – Night Time

Chuck was typing the words he was saying on his computer, "...but they were never, in fact, homeless. That's a good line."

The phone rang, and he answered, "Mistress Magda?"

"Um, no, Chuck."

Chuck quickly panicked, "Oh, uh, Dean. Uh, wow. I, uh, I didn't know that you'd call."

"Who's Mistress Magda?"

"Nothing. She's a, uh, a – just a, uh... a close friend."

'Yeah, I'll bet – real close. Whatever happened to Becky?"

Chuck rubbed his neck, "Didn't work out. I had too much respect for her."

Dean laughed on the other end of the line, "Boy, you really got a whole virgin/hooker thing going on, don't you?"

"Okay, this can't be why you called."

Dean paused, "Sam said yes."

Chuck nodded, "I know. I saw it. I'm just working on the pages."

"Did you see where the title fight goes down?"

"The angels are keeping it top secret – very hush-hush."

"Aw, crap."

"But I saw it anyway. Perks of being a prophet. It's tomorrow, high noon – place called Stull Cemetery."

Dean made some noise on the other end of the line, "Stull Ceme - Wait. I know that. That's – that's an old boneyard outside of Lawrence. Why Lawrence?"

"I don't know. It all has to end where it started, I guess."

"All right, Chuck. You know of any way to short-circuit this thing?"

"Besides the rings? No. I'm sorry."

Dean sighed, "Well, do you have any idea what's gonna happen next?"

Now Chuck sighed, "I wish that I did. But I-I just – I honestly don't know yet. For a long time now, the visions I had were rather fluid – never exactly set in stone as it were. Don't know why – it just got difficult at times. Now… now I am drawing a big blank."

"All right. Thanks, Chuck."

Outside Boby's House – Night

Dean closed the trunk of the Impala, with Bobby and Castiel walking up to him.

"You goin' someplace? You're goin' to do somethin' stupid. You got that look."

Dean huffed the rest of his supplies into the car, "I'm gonna go talk to Sam, Bobby."

"You just don't give up."

"It's Sam!" shouted Dean.

Castiel came forward, "If you couldn't reach him before, you're certainly not gonna be able to on the battlefield."

Dean chuckled, "Well, if we've already lost, I guess I got nothing to lose, right?"

"I just want you to understand – the only thing that you're gonna see out there is Michael killing your brother."

"Well, then I ain't gonna let him die alone."

Stull Cemetery – The next day

Lucifer in Sam's body stood in the cemetery. There was the sound of wings before Michael in Adam's body appears.

"It's good to see you, Michael."

"You too. It's been too long. Can you believe it's finally here?"

"No. Not really."

"Are you ready?"

Lucifer nodded, "As I'll ever be. A part of me wishes we didn't have to do this."

Michael mirrored the action, "Yeah. Me too."

"Then why are we?"

Michael looked at Lucifer in anger, "Oh, you know why! I have no choice, after what you did."

Lucifer laughed – with subtle overtones of indignation – as he responded, "What I did? What if it's not my fault?

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Think about it. Dad made everything. Which means he made me who I am! God wanted the Devil." (6)

Michael stared in confusion, "So?"

"So why? And why make us fight? I just can't figure out the point."

"What's your point?"

"We're going to kill each other. And for what? One of Dad's tests. And we don't even know the answer. We're brothers. Let's just walk off the chessboard."

Michael thought about it – he sincerely thought it through – but he couldn't change his way of thinking, "I'm sorry. I-I can't do that. I'm a good son, and I have my orders."

Lucifer pointed at his brother, "But you don't have to follow them."

"What, you think I'm gonna rebel? Now? I'm not like you."

"Please, Michael…"

Michael smirked – in pain, not in joy – at the familiar sight, "You know, you haven't changed a bit, little brother. Always blaming everybody but yourself. We were together. We were happy. But you betrayed me – all of us – and you made our father leave."

"No one makes Dad do anything. He is doing this to us. Just look at this," Lucifer turned around and pointed at the tree, one on which Michael finally noticed a boy leaning on – brutalized. "That child is the reason the Apocalypse was almost averted a while back. I don't know what he is or how he was made, but he is definitely God's agent. He has been systematically playing both sides against us to ensure that we would keep fighting each other…"

"Stop lying to me brother. I have been aware of Harry for some time now," Michael's anger was evident – at who, however, was a mystery. "We in the higher echelons of Heaven have been aware of his attempts to stop the Apocalypse from occurring. We never knew how he was doing it or who he worked with besides the Winchesters… but I couldn't blame him for his attempts. I knew he wasn't part of God's plan, but one could understand his desire to make sure we didn't fight."

Michael glared back at Lucifer, "What you did to him, however, for preventing you from escaping and completing the end of the world, was too far. You're a monster, Lucifer. And I have to kill you."

Lucifer looked down in shame, "If that's the way it's got to be... Then I'd like to see you try."

Lucifer and Michael slowly began to circle one another, before hearing the sound of a car engine and music.

"Gunter gleiben glauchen globen

All right

I got somethin' to say

Yeah, it's better to burn out

Yeah, than fade away

All right

Ow gonna start a fire

C'mon

Rise up gather round

Rock this place to the ground

Burn it up, let's go for broke

Watch the night go up in smoke

Rock on Rock on

Drive me crazier, no serenade

No fire brigade, just pyromania (c'mon)"

Dean walks out of the car – after turning off Def Leppard – towards Lucifer and Michael, "Howdy, boys. Sorry. Am I interrupting something?"

Michael attempted to interrupt, but Dean focused all of his attention on Lucifer, "Hey. We need to talk."

"Dean. Even for you, this is a whole new mountain of stupid."

Dean pointed at Lucifer annoyed, "I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to Sam."

"You're no longer the vessel, Dean. You got no right to be here."

Dean looked at his half-brother, "Adam, if you're in there somewhere, I am so sorry."

"Adam isn't home right now."

"Well, then you're next on my list, buttercup. But right now, I need five minutes with him."

The fury was evident on Michael's face; he may make an exception for Harry but not for Dean, "You little maggot. You are no longer a part of this story!"

A voice shouted from behind, "Hey, ass-butt!"

Castiel and Bobby had appeared behind Michael, with the angel holding a bottle from which a flame was burning – a Molotov cocktail. Castiel threw the bottle at Michael, who screamed as he went up in flames.

Dean gave Castiel such a look of surprise at the sight of an angel burning, "Ass-butt?"

Castiel shrugged, "He'll be back – and upset – but you got your five minutes."

Lucifer gave Castiel such an odd combination of expressions, "Castiel. Did you just Molotov my brother with holy fire?"

"Uh... no."

The devil prepped his hand, "No one dicks with Michael but me."

All he did was snap his fingers, but Castiel exploded in a rain of blood and chunks of meat.

Dean – despite the pain he was feeling at the death of his friend – pressured on, "Sammy, can you hear me?"

Lucifer started to show strain on his face; it seemed like the act of killing Castiel loosened Lucifer's control, "You know... I tried to be nice... for Sammy's sake. But you... are such a pain... in my ass."

Lucifer threw Dean into the trees – almost hitting a naked and broken Harry - during which Bobby attempted to shoot Lucifer in the back. When Lucifer turned, Bobby tried to shoot him again in the front, but Lucifer made a twisting hand motion and snapped his neck

As Dean was screaming in pain at the sight of the old man dying, Lucifer pulled Dean in and smashed him against the hood of the Impala. As Dean fell back against the car, spitting blood, he managed to gurgle out a few words, "Sammy? Are you in there?"

Lucifer started punching his former brother in the face repeatedly, "Oh, he's in here, all right. And he's gonna feel the snap of your bones. Every single one. We're gonna take our time."

By this point, Dean's face was almost completely swollen and bleeding, yet he still managed to put out a hand on Lucifer's jacket. "Sam, it's okay. It's okay. I'm here. I'm here. I'm not gonna leave you. I'm not gonna leave you."

As Lucifer was drawing back his fist for another punch, sunlight glinted off the roof of the Impala, catching Sam's eye. Through the window, Sam saw a little green army man stuck in the ashtray.

On April 21, 1967, the 100 millionth GM vehicle rolled off the line at the plant in Janesville – a blue two-door Caprice.

There was a big ceremony, speeches. The lieutenant governor even showed up. Three days later, another car rolled off that same line. No one gave two craps about her. But they should have, because this 1967 Chevrolet Impala would turn out to be the most important car – no, the most important object – in pretty much the whole universe.

She was first owned by Sal Moriarty, an alcoholic with two ex-wives and three blocked arteries. On weekends, he'd drive around giving Bibles to the poor "gettin' folks right for Judgment Day." That's what he said. Sam and Dean don't know any of this, but if they did, I bet they'd smile.

After Sal died, she ended up at Rainbow Motors, a used-car lot in Lawrence, where a young marine bought her on impulse. That is, after a little advice from a friend. I guess that's where this story begins.

And here's where it ends.

…

The Impala, of course, has all the things other cars have... and a few things they don't. But none of that stuff's important. This is the stuff that's important. The army man that Sam crammed in the ashtray – it's still stuck there. The Legos that Dean shoved into the vents – to this day, heat comes on and they can hear 'em rattle. These are the things that make the car theirs – really theirs. Even when Dean rebuilt her from the ground up, he made sure all these little things stayed, 'cause it's the blemishes that make her beautiful. The Devil doesn't know or care what kind of car the boys drive.

…

In between jobs, Sam and Dean would sometimes get a day – sometimes a week, if they were lucky. They'd pass the time lining their pockets. Sam used to insist on honest work, but now he hustles pool, like his brother. They could go anywhere and do anything. They drove 1,000 miles for an Ozzy show, two days for a Jayhawks game. And when it was clear, they'd park her in the middle of nowhere, sit on the hood, and watch the stars... for hours... without saying a word. It never occurred to them that, sure, maybe they never really had a roof and four walls...

All the great moments that Sam and Dean experienced in this Impala started to flashback through Sam's mind. Sam kept staring, his fist slowly unclenching in the middle of the air. As recognition finally dawned on Sam's face, he let go of Dean, who fell to the ground against the Impala.

Sam slowly started to move away from the car, "It's okay, Dean. It's gonna be okay. I've got him."

Sam took out the Horsemen's rings and tossed them on the ground, chanting, "Bvtmon tabges babalon"

The ground caved in around the rings, the air sucked into the hole. Sam and Dean looked at each other as the gap widens. Sam breathes deeply. A voice came in from the trees, "Sam!"

Sam gave a quick glance to Harry leaning against the tree, still laying on the ground, barely holding himself up, "I am sorry… that it had to end this way… I forgive you…"

Sam nodded as he turned back and stared into the hole. Michael teleported back in behind Sam, "Sam! It's not gonna end this way! Step back!"

"You're gonna have to make me!"

Michael shook his head in desperation, "I have to fight my brother, Sam! Here and now! It's my destiny!"

Sam looked at Dean for one last time, closed his eyes and spread his arms. Michael lunged forward and grabbed Sam's jacket, but the taller brother grabbed Michael's arm, dragging them together into the hole. After few moments, the hole closed in a blinding flash of light. The Horsemen's rings burned brightly in the grass on the ground where the hole was. Dean closed his eyes as he leans back against the Impala, the finality finally hitting him.

Dean didn't know how long he was out of it before Castiel appeared next to him.

"Cas, you're alive?"

Castiel nodded, the corners of his mouth slightly rising, "I'm better than that."

He touched Dean on the forehead, and Dean's wounds healed immediately. Dean quickly gave himself a cursory glance before looking up, "Cas, are you God? "

"That's a nice compliment. But no. Although, I do believe he brought me back. New and improved."

Castiel walked up to Bobby and touched him on the forehead, resurrecting him. Dean went up to pick up the Horsemen's rings, which he held in his hand. Dean looked back at the trees, noting Harry falling on the ground completely. Panic showed on the Winchester, as he called for Castiel to go heal him.

Bobby's House – Night

Dean and Castiel stood outside, sitting on the Impala.

"Was it really that bad?"

Castiel nodded, "I did what I could but… Lucifer inflicted years, maybe decades worth of torture upon the child in the few short hours he had him. He brought him near the brink of death, healed him enough to live, and repeated the cycle. The child was already without energy, as he spend it all on teleporting us out of Lucifer's range. Even with his supernatural nature, it will take a significant chunk of time before he recovers naturally."

"Naturally? What about his magic?"

"His vessel is too broken to serve as a functional container. It is why he requested that I put those iron-compound manacles on him. They will burn, but until he regains enough focus and control, there is nothing he can do. Thankfully, since his connection to chaos is currently cut off, he won't be under pressure to perform any magic to survive."

Dean nodded, "At least Crowly didn't snap us when we summoned him to get Harry. He did look like he would kill us without hesitation."

Dean nodded, "I think he believes that out truce is finally over – we are back to square one in his mind. Unless Harry gets involved, as far as Crowley is concerned, I am an enemy in his mind."

Silence permeated the air for a while before Dean asked the stoic angel, "What are you gonna do now?"

"Return to Heaven, I suppose."

"Heaven?"

"With Michael in the Cage, I'm sure it's total anarchy up there."

Dean smiled as he imagined the scene, "So, what, you're the new sheriff in town?"

"I like that. Yeah. I suppose I am."

Dean whistled, "Wow. God gives you a brand-new, shiny set of wings, and suddenly you're his bitch again."

Castiel lost his smile at that, "I don't know what God wants. I don't know if he'll even return. It just... seems like the right thing to do."

"Well, if you do see him, you tell him I'm coming for him next."

Castiel studied Dean's face, "You're angry."

"That's an understatement."

"He helped. Maybe even more than we realize."

Dean's fury was explosive at the implication, "That's easy for you to say. He brought you back. But what about Sam? What about Harry? What about me, huh? Where's my grand prize? All I got is my brother in a hole and Harry is most likely paralyzed for the rest of his life!"

"You got what you asked for, Dean. No paradise. No hell. Just more of the same. I mean it, Dean. What would you rather have? Peace or freedom? If we ask Harry the same question, he would say 'peace' – which is exactly what he fought for."

When Dean looked over, Castiel disappeared. "Well, you really suck at goodbyes, you know that?"

Lisa's House – Night

Dean knocked on Lisa's door, which she opened.

Dean spoke what he could, his voice breaking, "Hey, Lisa."

"Oh, thank god. Are you all right?"

"Yeah. Uh, if it's not too late, I... think I'd like to take you up on that beer."

Lisa smiled, "It's never too late."

Dean stepped in, leaning into Lisa's arm, "Shh. It's okay. It's gonna be okay."

…

Dean sat at Lisa's table with Ben, staring at the plate in front of him.

"You okay?"

Dean gave Lisa a look, "Yeah, I'm good," as he took a drink of whiskey.

Outside Lisa's house, a streetlight burned out. Beneath it… stood Sam, watching the house.

Chuck's House - Day

A manuscript for "Supernatural: Swan Song by Carver Edlund" lied on Chuck's desk.

Endings are hard.

Any chapped-ass monkey with a keyboard can poop out a beginning, but endings are impossible. You try to tie up every loose end, but you never can. The fans are always gonna bitch. There's always gonna be holes. And since it's the ending, it's all supposed to add up to something. I'm telling you, they're a raging pain in the ass.

Chuck typed on his computer.

This is the last Dean and Bobby will see of each other for a very long time. And, for the record, at this point next week, Bobby will be hunting a rugaru outside of Dayton. But not Dean. Dean didn't want Cas to save him. Every part of him, every fiber he's got, wants to die, or find a way to bring Sam back. But he isn't gonna do either. Because he made a promise.

So, what's it all add up to? It's hard to say. But me, I'd say this was a test... for Sam and Dean. And I think they did all right. Up against good, evil, angels, devils, destiny, and God himself, they made their own choice. They chose family. And, well... isn't that kinda the whole point?

Chuck typed "THE END" and took a drink.

"No doubt – endings are hard. But then again... nothing ever really ends, does it?"

Chuck smiled – in his all white ensemble – before vanishing into thin air.

Chicago, Illinois – A few days later…

If you weren't there the first time around, you would have thought that Death hasn't moved an inch since his last encounter with Dean and Harry.

So him eating his pizza - with a fork and knife – when the bell on the door rang wasn't that odd.

Him hearing the squeaking of wheels did.

It was on odd sight, one which on some level Death expected.

Crowley, dressed in his usual black-red suit and tie ensemble, was pushing the wheelchair, making sure not to bump it into the tables and chairs on the way.

In the chair sat Harry – what was left of him. That may have been morbid on some level, but there was only so much left that reminded Death of what he saw the first time around. The eyes were still there: green, dignified, joyful, proud, yet with layers of pain upon them. Everything else was either covered, burned away, or scarred.

While Harry was covered in a heating blanket, Death could still tell that his legs were bandaged and in casts of various lengths. His left arm was at in an angel due to a strap holding up the cast, as it was seen poking out from the side. The right arm still seemed to work, but if the bloody bandages were any indication, it wasn't much better then the other appendages.

His face took the worst of it from what Death could tell. His hair was either sheared-off or burned-off. Most of it was bandaged, but the eyes, ears, and mouth were open. Teeth seemed to be all in the right place ironically, and the ears were intact. Eyes were the same, but Death noted that the right side appeared to have a scar going across it: the bandage covered it, but the eyelids had the tips of healing from top and bottom.

Harry looked at Crowley, his worry evident, "It's alright Dad, I'll take care of this. Come back for me in an hour…"

Death made a cough that Harry noted, "Half hour then. Remember to get something for Gabriel please."

Crowley nodded, making sure not to take his eyes off Harry as he teleported away.

Death went back to his pizza, "So Gabriel still lives. I can only assume that he and Raphael are the only Archangels still around?"

"Michael is in the cage with Lucifer so that one is a toss-up."

Death took another bit of the pizza, "So… was it worth it?"

Harry gave himself a look over, "Castiel and Bobby are resurrected, Dean is still alive, there is relative peace in the world, and Sam made his choice to go into the hole… Speaking of which…"

Harry slowly reached into his pocket with his one working hand, taking out Death's ring and carefully gave it to the Horseman, "Dean wanted to give it back to you, but he had no idea how to find you." (7)

Death reached for the ring, took it, quickly rubbed it clean, and put it on his hand. "I would have sent a Reaper to get it eventually, but this will do."

Death looked at Harry, "Would you like a slice?"

The boy smiled, "I would, but my jaw still hasn't set in yet. For now, I am on a liquid diet."

Death nodded and went back to his plate, "Did the Sight tell you exactly when God should pay attention to the Winchesters?"

Harry shook his head, "Didn't need to – the price was the payment to save them, not to watch them."

Death gave Harry the death-glare: coming from the actual Horseman, it was the epitome of the phrase. "You may have an issue with resurrecting individuals, but God is more lenient – especially since I know how he looks like."

Before Death could correct, Harry interrupted, "That's right – and I know where he has been hiding and I how to track him. Dean's amulet only works when God allows it, but I have my ways.."

Harry leaned forward as best he could, "I may have been able to fool Gabriel and Crowley with the whole 'Prophet of the Lord' shtick, but I know you met his current visage to pass on my message. Now you are gonna pass on a new one - you tell him to leave my family and me alone or else I will find the skeletons in His closest. And if you think I am joking, remind him that I can easily find a way to Purgatory. Better yet, tell him I know where Cain and his mark is." (8)

Death paled, more so than his visage already allowed. Harry leaned back into his wheelchair, "Don't take it the wrong way – I hold nothing against the guy. Maybe it was for the greater good. Maybe he did get tired of all the chaos up in Heaven – I can't blame him; I can relate since I personify the concept. I can even understand why he asked for such a steep price. I knew the second that I couldn't draw in power to escape from Lucifer it wasn't going to be pleasant. The torture was bad but seeing as I took who knows how many lives to make sure the Apocalypse didn't happen the first time around and stop it the second time, it seemed fair at the time."

Death linked his fingers together, thinking about the situation in front him, "I could kill you right now, and it wouldn't bother me in the least. What makes you think I will act as your personal delivery boy?"

Harry lifted his hand to his neck, taking out a chain with an oddly shaped medallion on it. It took a moment for Death to recognize the symbol he hasn't seen in a long-long time: a circle inside a triangle with a line going down the middle of it all.

Harry smiled as recognition dawned on Death's face, "I may not know how to gain access to my lost culture as a wizard, but even some folklore can bleed through in the right places. I started with 'The Pardoner's Tale' by Chaucer and worked backwards from there (9). And if the stories are any indication, you may be cruel to those who screw with you, but you are fair with those who respect you – just like Hades. Since I haven't pissed you off in any way and I have a healthy respect for your job in the grand scheme of things, I may keep what you did under raps from you-know-who."

"What makes you think he doesn't already know?"

"Because if he did know what you did for those three brothers, he would have found out and killed them himself. My guess is whatever magics wizards used to bend the spaces in the world must be high-grade Old-World juju that even He can't get through."

If Death had the capability to show anger, he wasn't using it, so Harry went on, "Now maybe wizards aren't religious, which means that He doesn't have any strong foothold there. But death… Well, death is universal, so you have a foothold everywhere. You are probably one of the few high-rollers in the world who can find them."

Death unlinked his fingers and went back to his pizza slice, "Wizards are not strong nor dangerous enough to interfere with the scheme of things in the world. The power they wield, however, is too… chaotic… not to be wary of."

Harry smiled, "You and a few Pagan gods are keeping a watch on them, aren't you?"

"The gods aren't aware of me, but I look into them from time to time. The last time I needed to get involved personally was during World War II due to the interference from a… dangerous dark wizard assisting the Third Reich." (10)

Harry raised his brow at that phrasing, "Really? You thought he was dangerous?"

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you boy, even if you wield like a sharpened dagger. But if you must know, while their culture and spell methodology are in some ways very backward, their magic works. They may not have access to some of the heavy duty magics of the past, but what the have – in the right hands – works."

Harry nodded, putting away the medals back under his covers, "Let's let bygones be bygones. I returned the ring to you on Dean's behalf, I will keep your secret if you pass on my message to God, and I will be on my merry way to heal up. Hopefully, we won't run into each anytime soon."

Death wiped his mouth before giving Harry a glare, "You really think that you will actually manage to heal from what Lucifer did to you? I may not be a healer, but even tell that you are teetering on the edge of death. Can you even feel anything below the waist?"

Harry winced, "I may not currently be strong enough to draw in chaos to fuel myself, but my body can still naturally heal in part due to Gabriel's essence…"

"No, that won't be enough. This was part of God's machinations child. No simple magics can heal you up just because you will it. And even with your nature… it will take years, even decades. Neither he nor I will let you cheat through that – we will ensure it."

Harry smiled, "Don't worry, I won't violate the letter nor spirit of the deal I made with you and God. I'll just… go to a hidey-hole somewhere far away and wait out for my body to heal all on its own."

Death smirked, "You already have a way around it don't you? A way neither of us considered?"

"Don't make it sound so cheap – I will actually have to wait it out naturally… I just won't look like a freaking adult afterward."

Death finally realized what Harry was planning, "You realize that will be tantamount to solitary confinement for who knows how long. I don't know what you may have gone through with your family and Lucifer, but waiting… that's the worse torture there possibly is out there. It breaks hardened criminals within days. You are still a child; a supernatural one mind you, but still a child." (11)

Harry shrugged, "I'll have stuff to do. Maybe I will catch up on some reading, maybe make a personal tome of spells and secrets. When my other arm heals up, I might take up guitar playing as a form of physical therapy. I always wanted to try painting – Bob Ross has DVDs right?"

Death sighed, "If you believe that it will work, who am I to stop you?"

Harry's smiled disappeared, "I am aware of the drawbacks from what I am gonna attempt – I'll deal with the issues as they come up. Besides, some peace and quiet will be good for me in the long run… hopefully."

"Your funeral, child."

January 2011 - Lisa's House

"Dean, there's a letter here for you."

Harry looked up from his program, "Does it say from who?"

"Someone named… Harry MacLeod"

Dean was shocked, but that was quickly replaced by a smile, "Guess he kept his promise… MacLeod huh?"

Late July 2011 – Harry's House (12)

Even for Massachusetts, the weather was beautiful and warm for that July. So nice that Harry was enjoying a pleasant moment of meditation on the patio – a habit he picked up from his 'incarceration.'

Unfortunately, that was soon interrupted by the arrival of the owl that landed on the table next to Harry.

Harry opened one eye to note the oddity – not because it was an owl, but because it was daytime. He tried to shoo it away, but the big white beast wouldn't leave.

That's when he noted the scroll attached to its leg. Seeing as how the owl didn't leave when Harry got up and approached the bird, he assumed he was in clear to remove it from the bird.

What was written was a definite surprise for Harry – an oddity for him.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. MacLeod,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and

Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Harry re-read the scroll twice to make sure what he was reading.

Finally, he smiled – a trickster smile, no less. "Well now… Won't this be fun."