Dean Winchester (of_little_faith) wrote in blood_red_sky, @ 2011-12-15 14:24:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | castiel, dean winchester, harry dresden, jo harvelle |
panic switch (dean, harry, cas, jo--cont'd in comments)
It'd been over a month.
At first, Dean figured she just needed a little bit of space. It wasn't like being Molly was stress-free, or like the walking dead taking over the town on Halloween night was a barrel of laughs. And then Sam came back. Dean forgot to worry, he was so glad. But once that settled down, Dean tried to track her. He tried checking the GPS in her phone, and looking for her via credit card receipts, and checking motels in an area in York and around.
Jo didn't want to be found.
Cas seemed busy again, too.
So Dean went to Harry.
It was just before noon when he knocked on the door to Harry's house. He didn't want to deal with Phaedra, even if she might be able to help. He was pretty sure her boyfriend was a little bit of a tall glass of crazy, and right now, all he could think about was getting answers about Jo. Maybe she'd checked in with Harry. But if not, he WAS the wizard.
It was before noon, but Harry was awake. There was a pile of books on the kitchen table, sitting beside a large mug of coffee. He'd been working, doing some research for the project Molly wanted, beefing up his own enchants, and looking into Murphy's case. He even seemed to be in something of a cheerful mood as he opened the door.
"Hey, Dean," he said, taking down the wards to invite the hunter in. "What's going on? Fresh coffee on the pot if you want some."
From behind Harry came an old grey tomcat who shoulder-checked Harry hard enough to make the tall wizard stumble a bit, then vanished out the door. Harry watched him go and called out, "Hey! Take care of my cat!" after the tom. The feline stopped at the edge of the porch, twitched his tail, and then sped off.
Offering a Winchester coffee was always wise. It also usually got you some kind of brownie points. Dean nodded and headed inside, right for the coffee pot.
"You, uh, talk to cats now?" he asked, filling up a mug. "That a wizard thing or a crazy cat man thing?"
Once he had his cup of coveted caffeine, Dean leaned on the counter, eyes darting toward the doors he knew Phaedra was behind before opening his mouth again.
"Somethin's going on with Jo," he said, simply. "I haven't seen her in over a month. She cut outta here after the fair, and I figured that made sense, y'know, considering. I tried tracking her. I get nothing."
"Neither. Mister's on an escort mission. I want his escort to make sure and take care of him." Since Bob was a spirit, he couldn't travel during daylight hours. As a result, if the skull was needed for recon during the daylight hours, he simply possessed the cat. Harry suspected Mister tolerated this because he got to go out and see new things. The shoulder-check had nothing to do with the spirit, and everything to do with the cat himself.
Harry frowned when Dean mentioned how long Jo had been gone. "A month? Why didn't you say anything sooner?" Harry flipped to a new page in his notebook and started to jot down a few notes. "I know she helped Molly take down a troll not long after the fair, but that was still weeks back. You have anything of hers? Maybe some hairs from a brush? Nail clippings?"
"I'm gonna assume Mister isn't a person."
He gulped down about half of the black coffee.
"Gee, Harry, I dunno. Maybe 'cause my damn brother came back from Hell?" He gave Harry an obnoxious smile. "Kinda distracting. Oh, and maybe because an angel in a trench coat decided to show up again, because he fucking felt like it?"
He set the cup down, annoyed with himself for not having said anything sooner.
"You're weird," he said in response to Harry's question. He licked his lower lip. "I think she took her hairbrush with her. I think I've got a tooth brush."
"Mister is my cat." Harry listened to the excuses, and the frustration behind them. He understood, far too well. So that was enough asking about that. "Angel in a... never mind. Think I saw him once." Harry took a breath, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "Thaumatergy is one of my strong points. Connecting a little thing to a bigger thing. If I took one of your hairs and used a tracking spell, I could find you nearly anywhere. A lot of my PI work was in finding lost things. People have their own kind of energy that can be tracked if you have something of theirs. It can also be used in less helpful ways. I burn any hair, nail clippings, or blood that comes off of me so no one can use it against me."
He grabbed his duster and checked the pockets. They held his usual supplies, more than enough for some basic tracking spells and defensive measures. Harry picked up his staff and nodded towards Dean's mug of coffee. "Take it with you. Let's go see if I can find anything useful in the room."
He didn't like the idea that he could be so easily tracked. Cas had gone to great pains to make sure he was hidden from the entirety of Heaven, but Harry could find him with a little bit of hair? Didn't seem right. Dean resigned himself again to disliking magic.
Mostly. He'd flat out hate it if he couldn't find Jo with it.
He didn't need to take the coffee with him. The mug was empty by now. He shrugged and followed Harry when he started to leave, offering an exaggerated and sarcastic wave in the direction of Phaedra's room.
Harry saw the flicker of disapproval on Dean's face, and chuckled a bit. "Don't worry, man. Like I said, finding things is a specialty of mine. There are plenty of ways to sidetrack a spell if you're not a professional. I've just been doing these long enough to have figured out the tricks behind it."
He was certain he would be able to find Jo. The ones he couldn't track weren't in York - the Sidhe, the skinwalkers, the Denarians. He wasn't about to tell Dean those few possibilities unless they became relevant; it would mean more trouble than ever if any of those were in town.
He snorted a bit at Dean's wave, and locked up the house behind them as they exited. "Your car or mine?"
Dean arched an eyebrow and looked at Harry very seriously as he walked across the yard.
"If you ride in my car, are you gonna fuck up the transmission or fry something?"
Because, wizard or friend or not, no one got away with hurting the Impala. He smirked at his second thought, once it popped in there.
"Do you even fit?"
He opened the driver side door, waiting for some kind of answer. The familiar squeak made things better, somehow. It always did.
Harry looked from the Impala to his Jeep, and back again. "My last car was an old Volkswagen Bug," he said. "I managed to squeeze in there." He opened the passenger door and slid into the Impala. "I'm better with older models. Once got to borrow a 1929 Rolls Royce Silver Wraith. Felt like I was driving a freaking air craft carrier. Your car will be fine; it's a short ride." If it was a newer car, there might be trouble, but for a classic like this, it'd be an hour or so of constant driving before anything got wonky. "First thing would be the radio. I haven't been able to use cassette tapes since I was thirteen."
Dean shrugged. If Harry was wrong, he'd bitch and moan about it to no end. And then probably break something.
When he turned the engine over, the radio went on. Sam'd rigged the Impala up for an i-Pod while Dean was in Hell. Dean never really undid that, even though he considered it blasphemy. He just found good classic rock stations, and when those weren't available, secretly used the i-Pod. Happily, this part of Pennsylvania had a good station, and turning the key started "Don't Stop Believing" some where around the cheap perfume part.
It wasn't a long drive anywhere in the actual town. Dean realized he did a lot of driving people to and from the Phoenix. He felt a lot like a fucking taxi.
Once they were there, though, it'd all be cake. Hopefully.
He pulled into the lot, cut the engine, and nodded toward the building. He figured Harry'd have the decency not to break the salt lines, or anything else he and Jo had set up. "Home sweet motel."
Thankfully, the radio continued to work the entire drive. Harry was pleased with the choice in music, and found himself drumming his fingers against his leg along with the tune. He followed Dean to the room when they arrived at the Phoenix, and paused after Dean had opened the room.
The salt lines weren't entirely unexpected. Harry sighed softly as he spotted it, and reached out with his magical senses. That confirmed his suspicion. "Dean?" he said. "I, uh..." This time, he groaned. "Hell's bells. I need you to invite me in."
Go figure.