"See? It's infuriating! Poor Ron. Poor Hermione. Poor everyone!"

"Yes, we get it, you don't like the movies.", Dean rolled his eyes at a very much ranting Harry and reached for another handful of popcorn. Looking for the Darkness was going nowhere. Dean had even asked Crowley for help, when he had... eh... handed over Rowena's body. But that hadn't gotten them far, either. So now the four men had decided to try and recharge and enjoy what they could for as long as possible. Which, right now, meant a movie night to annoy Harry and entertain the others.

"Don't like them. Don't like them?!"

"Harry," Sam tried to intercede, buuuut it was already too late, Harry was working his way up to a full lecture.

"Hate them?", Dean offered.

"Resent?", Cas tried, his voice neutral, but Sam could see the happy spark in his eyes.

It was a little out of character, how they had all taken to Harry so quickly, but... Sam remembered how he had felt, when he found out Angels and God actually existed. How he had felt, for a brief time, like finally, finally there was someone in their corner. How they could be sure to be on the right side... they had all been let down. Him. Dean. And especially Cas, abandoned by a father he was told to love, but had never met. And in a weird way, Harry, with his grandfatherly looks, his teasing comments and yet weirdly protective habit of making sure they ate well, felt like someone finally took an interest in them, not because he NEEDED them, but because he liked them.

Sam wondered briefly if Henry would have been that kind of grandfather, if he'd gotten the chance.

Deep in thought, Sam had blocked out the banter next to him, until Harry very forcefully yelled: "He doesn't even LOOK like me!"

"Oh yeah? Well, he is an actor.", Dean offered.

"Which means nothing, considering we once visited a world, where our lives were a TV-Show and we were actors. Actors that looked like us, obviously.", Sam jumped right back into the fray, "Maybe somewhere out there, there is a Harry Potter that looks like Daniel Radcliffe."

"You did? That's fascinating.", Harry's face lit up, "Which book is that? I just finished number 100."

"Which one is that?", Dean frowned, "I didn't read the later ones."

"Where you go to the future. And don't deflect."

"The books stop before that happens.", Sam explained.

"Bummer. Damn, this is all depressing. Like... I read those books about me, but these movies are so different. What's the point of making movies, if you get everything WRONG? And WHY do they insist on romanticizing Hermione and me? Can we talk about the weirdness? We would never have worked out. "

"That's what bothered you most?", Castiel asked.

"Eh, yeah? She was like my sister. Just... no."

"At least she was only LIKE your sister.", Dean mumbled under his breath and judging by his mortified expression, he hadn't planned to say it out loud.

Harry's whole face lit up, and he actually pressed the pause button right where Voldemort was hugging Malfoy (Sam really hoped that little scene had escaped Harry's attention).

"Explain.", he told Dean sternly, his mouth twitching slightly, as if he was struggling to hold in a laugh.

"No way."

"Dean.", Harry tried again, stretching the name like their Dad sometimes used to do, when he KNEW something was up.

"Don't push it.", Sam jumped in to defend his brother and his own sanity, "Or I'll start reading you something involving you and a suddenly sexy, leather pants wearing Draco Malfoy."

Harry went a little pale, his gaze darting around between the three of them. Finally he said: "Fine. But at least tell me if there is some good stuff about the two of you out there. Or did you guys only work it out after the books." And he gestured between Cas and Dean.

Sam choked on his beer and Dean, who had just been in the process of throwing popcorn in his mouth, jerked so violently, he missed and hit himself in the eye.

Cas just stared at Harry like a goldfish. No one moved. No one spoke. Harry kept staring between them, before saying: "Aaaaaaanyway, change of topic. I still don't know why I don't look human anymore. I did lots and lots of diagnostic spells, and even I don't register myself as human anymore. I basically get an error message."

Surprisingly enough, Cas was the first one to recover.

"To me, you look a little like Angels do, but much brighter. It hurts a little to look at you. Too long and I get a headache."

"I hurt you?", Harry looked at him with concern, "Why didn't you say so before?"

"I can manage."

"Yeah, but there are ways to disguise auras and energies and... I'll do some research."

"Well, if you are the Master of Death, maybe you are the new Death now.", Dean returned to the conversation.

"He doesn't look like Death.", Cas offered, "He looks completely different."

"Maybe we are looking at this completely the wrong way.", Sam had been thinking about this for weeks now, "The title is old, right? And the meaning of words change over time. Master doesn't have to mean boss, it could also be something like leader or teacher."

"So I should teach Death?"

"You said, Death always did his job before and didn't interfere. He definitely interfered here, maybe that's why you were summoned?"

"But Death has helped us before.", Dean interjected, "He returned your soul from the cage. As a favor, basically."

"He did what? That's quite... something."

"Maybe it's the teacher of death.", Cas wondered, "You said, you'd be summoned by people asking for your help. Instead, you informed them that death was part of human life and nothing to be feared."

"But that wouldn't explain my power surge..."

"Now that Death is dead himself, it might be your responsibility to teach the new Death."

"Depressing thought. I'm a terrible teacher."

Sam laughed, but Cas nodded gravely.

"Last week, when you were both asleep, Harry tried to teach me how to bake pie. I fear I now know less than before."

"Oi. Rude, young man!", Harry chastised.

"About that... who of you is actually the older one?", Dean asked, leaning forward and reaching for another handful of popcorn. His eye had stopped watering, too.

Harry and Cas looked at each other.

"I don't know how old I am.", Harry admitted.

"Neither do I. Especially not when it comes to Earthly years. Heaven is... different.", Cas explained, a strangely wistful look on his face.

"I am sorry, Harry, that I cannot ask my brothers and sisters for information about your status. I fear they would not welcome me."

"I don't need their help.", Harry grumbled.

"You're now what? The only Angel that can actually fly? You could just show up in Heaven, and they could do nothing against it, right?", Sam asked carefully.

"They would all want to know how I did it. Maybe we could trade them for information?", Cas wondered.

"I'm not healing other Angels.", Harry declared.

"Of course. I imagine that would be very taxing."

"No. That doesn't bother me. But they tortured you, and I'm not going to lift a finger to help them."

Sam felt a sudden surge of warmth at Harry's words. It was nice to know it wasn't just them that felt like Harry belonged. He obviously felt the same way.

"You're such a mother hen.", Dean muttered, but they could all hear the affection in his voice.

"Is that supposed to be an insult?"

"Not if you don't mind being called an old woman."

"Although I'm old, I don't identify as a woman. But I don't think it would be an insult, either. Dean, dear, are you showing us your deepest insecurities here?", Harry asked, his voice forcefully calm, but Sam thought he might burst into laughter at any second.

Dean had turned a little pink.

"You're an ass."

"Well yes. And I'm in good company."