Harry woke up in a weirdly windowless room and a damp bed.

Why did he wake up in a damp bed? The last time he could remember that happening, one of his grandsons had been staying over and slept in their bed, because he was scared of the thunder outside. And then he'd had an Oopsie in the middle of the night.

Who'd had an Oopsie now?

Had he had an Oopsie?

And why the hell was he thinking about Oopsies that much? Get a grip, Potter!

Harry swung his legs out of bed and realized that he was still wearing his clothes, but not his shoes, and he was hungry. STARVING. He concentrated for a second and found two human energies in his range (probably the brothers) and two... not human signatures.

Mh. Apparently the Winchesters had indeed taken him home. The last thing he could remember was falling asleep in their car.

Okay, he thought, just follow their signatures and get an update on why the hell he was in a weirdly wet bed.

There was a problem, though. He opened the door to his room, and the way towards Sam and Dean was blocked by a wall. Great. That was the problem with this particular one of his powers: he could only tell the direction, and that often didn't work out well in houses... caves... mazes... anything that wasn't an open field, really.

Okay, what now? Go right, go left... go right, he decided, and walked along a pretty impressive corridor in an effort to find SOMEONE. Or food. Or even a damn window. What was this? Were Sam and Dean doomsday preppers?

Well, they might, actually, Harry thought, with their apparent habit of pissing off anyone and anything.

Uhhhhhh, a kitchen!

Happily, Harry walked into the room, his nose expertly revealing the coffee pot.

It was cold, yes, but magic was a marvelous thing.

He located a mug, poured himself some quickly reheated coffee, and happily started to raid the fridge.

Pickings were a little slim, but he decided that for now the unopened package of beef jerky on the counter would do.

After finishing his coffee, he started on the jerky and continued exploring. He was contentedly munching along, when one of the weirder energies turned out to be a sickly looking man chained to the floor in what looked like a war room.

Oh, Harry noted, an Angel! He hadn't really expected that, but why the hell not.

"Whatcha do to end up in chains?", he called loudly and came closer.

The man looked up in surprise, almost shrugging off the blanket around his shoulders, and looked at him with wide, slightly mad looking eyes.

"Well, shit. Someone did quite a number on you."

"I was cursed by a witch and tortured by Angels.", the man groaned out.

"That sucks. You need help with that?"

The Angel looked at him with a strange mixture of hope and horror.

"You are NOT human.", he declared.

"Sure I am."

"Your energy is all wrong."

"Is it? No one ever mentioned that before. Not even the Angels I met along the way. So? Need healing?"

"I could be an enemy. I'm chained, after all, so why help?", the Angel asked, narrowing his eyes, before he seemed to fall into a fit, groaning loudly and looking like he tried to crawl in on himself.

"Possible. But someone here made the effort of putting a blanket around you for comfort. Somehow that doesn't strike me like something you'd do for a foe.", Harry explained, when the Angel was back to looking at him.

"True. A witch cursed me with an... attack dog spell, she called it. Sam and Dean are trying to get her to lift it, but it just... cuts deeper."

Finally, Harry put the jerky down on the table next to the man and knelt down beside him, trying to gauge the extent of the damage. The curse was child's play. No witch in this world would ever even come close to a wizard of his kind. But he had never healed an Angel before and this one... well, he didn't seem to have an easy time of it.

"I am Castiel.", the Angel said, "You must be Harry. The Master of Death? I have never heard that title before."

"No, you wouldn't have.", Harry answered, only halfway listening, his mind trying to come up with where to start this healing marathon.

Castiel shook again, and Harry could practically see that stupid curse trying to destroy him.

He put his hand on Castiel's arm and cast a simple Finite Incantatem. Wow, it had been ages since he had done that.

Castiel shook his head like a wet dog and opened his eyes again to stare right at Harry.

"It's gone. You just... just like that."

"Yes.", Harry agreed, still mostly occupied by the task in front of him.

Castiel's gaze wandered a bit through the room, as if unsure of what to do next.

"You ate Dean's jerky. He won't like that."

"Oh, he won't? That makes it taste even better. Castiel, this might take a moment, and it won't be pretty. You might be more comfortable, if I made you unconscious."

"No, I can take it."

"Don't be daft. I won't knock you out without your consent, but seriously: you won't want to feel this."

Castiel looked at him, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Do Sam and Dean often bring strangers back here?"

"No."

"Do you think that they trust me enough to bring me here and NOT chain me up, you can do the same?"

Another couple of moments of silent staring.

"They probably thought chaining you up would do them no good with your powers."

"True, but apparently I slept deep enough that they actually had to carry me to bed, so they could have just... I don't know, dropped me off somewhere."

"You have been asleep for several days. They tried to wake you when I got here, but nothing worked. Dean gave up when he dumped a bucket of water on you, and you still didn't wake."

"That explains the fear of an Oopsie."

"What?"

"Never mind. Castiel, I promise you, I only want to help you. I am not going to hurt you. I honestly wouldn't need you unconscious for that."

Silence.

"It would make healing you easier, because I wouldn't have to worry about you dying on me halfway through due to pain or something."

"Very well. If it helps you."

"Stubborn, proud men." , Harry sighed under his breath and sent Castiel into dreamland. Good thing his past meetings with Angels had been a little more hostile. At least that way, he knew how much force to put behind his spell.

15 minutes later, Harry studied Castiel and was really rather proud of himself.

"Good as new!", he declared, when Castiel blinked awake and Harry removed his chains.

Castiel just stared at him.

"What? Did I mess something up?", Harry asked, taking another close look at the Angel within the vessel, "Looks fine to me. Any complaints?"

Castiel's eyes suddenly flashed a silvery blue, dark shadowy wings appearing on the wall behind him.

"Okay. Show off."

"You... fixed me."

"I thought that was understood? What am I missing here?"

"You... fixed my wings and my link to heaven. You... fixed everything.", Castiel's voice was so disbelieving, Harry felt like they all really needed a good beer and story time around a campfire.

"Yeeeees." , he tried again.

"Thank you.", Castiel told him, his voice so full of honest gratitude, it made Harry a little uncomfortable.

"You are welcome. You should know, though, that if I miss read the situation, and you actually mean those two boys harm, I won't go easy on you. I am quite fond of them."

"So am I.", Castiel stated matter-of-factly, and Harry felt like they had just found some common ground and understanding.

"Do you know where they are in this maze of a thing? We should probably let them know they can stop threatening that witch or whatever."

"Yes, they are in the dungeon. This way.", Castiel let the way and when they passed by the kitchen, Harry made a quick pit stop. He'd had something savory, now he really needed something sweet.

They ran into Sam right outside the kitchen.

"Cas? What? Harry?"

"Harry has healed me.", Castiel informed the taller brother with that weird deadpan voice of his.

"Hi, Sam, thanks for letting me crash here. And sorry for falling asleep on you for so long."

"Yes, no. I mean, you're welcome. What exactly happened?"

"Woke up. Found Cas. Healed him. Came to find you."

"No, I mean with your weird sleep?"

"Oh, not sure yet. That'll take a bit of research and experimenting, I guess. So, what's up with that witch?"

"Ehm. Rowena, she's a powerful witch. Old. Made off with the Book of the Damned, which is bad news. We need it back."

"Okay, cool. Is she an ally, an enemy? Do we care what happens to her?"

"Ehm. She has helped us, but no, not an ally. More of an enemy of my enemy thing."

"Okay. Lead the way then.", Harry grinned. Damn, this world and these brothers were extremely entertaining.

They made it to the dungeon right on time to hear a confident Scottish voice say: "Call him. If I'm dead, you've got a big fat pile of nothing. No book ever. And your friend with the bent halo? He goes foaming-at-the-mouth mad and dies. Your turn!"

Harry already didn't like her.

Sam stepped in first, followed by Castiel and then Harry, who turned towards Castiel and said: "You feel like going mad and dying any time soon?"

"No. At least not right now.", Castiel informed the room, his eyes narrowed at Rowena. Dean had his feet up on a table and almost broke his neck to look at them.

"Oh, hey, it's Sleeping Beauty. Wait. Are you eating my pie?!"

"It was in the fridge and I got hungry.", Harry shrugged and took another spoon full.

"Dude. That's my pie. Not cool!"

"It wasn't like there was a sticky note with your name on it or anything."

"Would you have cared about a sticky note?", Castiel asked thoughtfully.

"Yes! I would have eaten the pie immediately and not have the jerky first."

"You ate my jerky, too?!"

"Guys!", Sam yelled, sounding remarkably like Hermione had often done, when they had been sitting around their kitchen table, drunk some whiskey and talked about Quidditch. Good times, "Can we deal with one problem at a time?"

"Oh yeah, sure. Your so-called witch. She has something we want, right?"

Everybody was turning towards Rowena, whose eyes were wide in terror and glued to Harry's face.

"Hi, Rowena, I am Harry."

"You... what are you?", her voice an odd mixture of fear and reverence.

"Usually no one asks me that. Like... what's up with this world? I'm a human. Wizard."

"No, you're not. You... you are so... bright."

"Told you.", Castiel indeed told him.

"Do I really not look human to you guys? Like... that's a new development."

"That Reaper definitely thought you looked human.", Sam agreed.

"That was before his weeklong nap, though.", Dean noted.

Harry's mind was racing. Was it possible? He hadn't really had the time to think about the implications of being the stupid Master of Death, if Death was dead. But that didn't mean he changed species, right?

Then again, returning thousands of people to life was sorta, kinda a new thing, too. This was... worrying. If you spend millennia thinking you were one thing and the world worked a certain way, having that thrown into question wasn't exactly something to celebrate. On the other hand, he HAD been getting bored with it all.

"That's a problem for another day.", he declared to the room at large, "We have more immediately solvable problems. Like this book thing. You have it. We want it. Tell us or I'll filet you and make it last for days."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam stare at him in disbelief, but he really didn't care. He didn't like these unnatural witches. Perverting themselves to get a tiny grip on a power they had really no business meddling with.

Rowena was still staring at him, as if to desperately reach for SOMETHING.

"If I am dead, that means you'll never find the book."

"True.", Dean agreed helpfully, "But we have the Codex and without it, no one can read that thing, so we're good."

"And if you have hidden it so thoroughly, once you are dead, no one can get to it anyway.", Castiel reminded her.

Ohhhh, these guys knew how to team work, all right.

"Now, boys, have we not helped each other out before? This is all a bit too macho, don't you agree? I'm not unreasonable, after all."

"I am, though.", Harry told her coldly and walked over to lean on Dean's table, "We really have bigger fish to fry, so no one wants to waste time on you."

"None of this HAD to happen. Really. If only Samuel over here had held up his end of the bargain.", Rowena tried again, desperately trying to act in control. But Harry could feel it. Almost taste it in the air. The terror she was trying to hide. And the weight of all those years on her soul. She was old, Sam had said, way past her natural life span. A cheat, who had given up her soul, her humanity, for a little power and a longer life. Pathetic.

"What bargain?", Dean growled, giving Sam a suspicious look.

"Oh, just that thing between Sam, Crowley, and I."

"What thing?", Dean asked sharply, and Harry rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Don't let her do this, Dean. She knows she has no other choice but to tell us or die.", he tried, but from Rowena's triumphant look, he knew she had found an in.

"Oh, surely, you knew Sam made a deal with me to kill my son if I removed the Mark of Cain from your arm. Well, is the Mark gone? Yes. Is Crowley dead? No."

Harry could hear Dean starting to speak behind him, but Rowena's words caused a sudden surge of disbelieving anger to coil in his guts.

"Your son? You wanted Sam to kill your son?"

Images of his own children flashed before his eyes. Wilde rides on brooms. Jumping into puddles. Dying of old age. So, so long ago and still he missed them. And yet here this... abomination was calmly talking about killing her son.

"Yes, but somehow the little bugger still lives.", Rowena chirped, and Harry felt that white-hot anger again. What was happening to him, damn it? He wasn't usually like this! Hadn't been for thousands of years. He was in control at all times. But not here. Not in this world. Not with these people.

"And why do you want him dead?", Harry asked, his voice still sounding conversational, but inside he was raving.

Rowena looked straight at him, as if she was proud of what she was saying. As if she should be commanded for it.

"Because I hate him."

"What for?"

"Existing."

That one word was spoken with so much conviction, so much hate, Harry felt more old memories, thought long buried, resurface. Of the Dursleys' hate for him. Of those lonely, lonely years. Rowena had barely closed her smirking mouth, when Harry's anger boiled over and the light vanished from her eyes and her soul left her body.