Soul Music

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.

XXX

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.”

XXX

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 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.

“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. 2a

“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.”

XXX

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.

XXX

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.

XXX

“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.

XXX

“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
And 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.

XXX

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;

TBC...