Hope everyone had a lovely Christmas and New Year's. It's been a bit insane around here, so it was hard to get any writing done. But I'm back at school now! Hopefully it won't take so long to update next time. Thanks for all of your reviews and alerts. I continue to be amazed by the response of this fic as I was very reluctant in the beginning to even pursue this.

Warnings: May contain spoilers for both HP & Supernatural. Both of which are definitely not owned by me!

Also, don't have a beta, so please forgive any errors! If you would like to offer up your services, feel free to do so!

Just a note: The time lines of both Harry Potter & Supernatural stand as is. Harry turned twenty-three in July of 2003. As of Chapter Four, this chapter, it is approximately March of 2004, some odd seventeen months prior to the beginning of Supernatural Season One. However, things will not progress at the same speed as they did in the series. I'm not certain how they will proceed, but I can say with some certainty that I will not be going episode to episode. Where's the fun in that, anyway?

I also haven't chosen a pairing. I'm thinking Castiel right now, but it really depends on how things progress. It's still fairly early, though, so anything's possible.

Blood of the Father

By Koinaka

By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes:
Open, locks,
Whoever knocks!

MacBeth Act 4 Scene 1 Lines 44-47

THEN

There was a pregnant pause while the three men waited for the call to connect. Suddenly, a wide smile spread on Dean's face. "Sammy," he breathed into the mobile. "It's good to hear your voice."

NOW

Chapter Eight
When Daddy comes a knockin'

After a brief conversation with his brother Sam, that Harry had not been privy to as he had been sent from the room like an errant child, Dean and Bobby had become incredibly tight lipped. They hadn't expressly asked him to leave, but they had made it abundantly clear that they wished he would leave. He had done so only ten minutes later and had not returned.

He spent the following day searching for a more permanent residence. It was an extremely tired but happy Harry that returned to his motel room that night. That happiness soon turned to uneasiness when he'd not been able to reach Hermione by his mobile. She'd called him during the previous night to tell him that she had made some sort of break through, but that she would contact him when she had more information to give him. Hermione was nothing if not reliable, so he found it extremely strange that he was unable to reach her. He'd even tried using the two-way mirrors to no avail.

She was still unreachable when Harry left to pick up the keys to his new home the next day.

Miss Eldridge, the middle aged real estate agent, beamed as she pushed the keys into Harry's outstretched hand. "Here you are, Mr. Potter! We're so glad you've decided to make Spearfish your new home!"

Harry tried to return the smile, but he wasn't feeling particularly sociable. Every minute that went by without hearing from Hermione, he felt more and more anxious. He left the realty office and made his way back to his rental car. "Guess I should think about purchasing my own car," he mused as he slid into the driver's seat. "Or maybe a motor bike. Wonder if Mr. Weasley would be able to enchant it..."

His mind wandered as he drove the three miles between the realty office and his new house. The decision to make Spearfish, whose population was now officially 8,607, his home hadn't been a very difficult decision to make. The thought of staying in motel room after motel reminded him too much of the year he spent camping with Hermione and Ron while they searched for the horcruxes. He had vowed, to himself at least, to never live such a transitory existence again. Maybe it was due to his upbringing, but Harry had always yearned for a home of his own, had always needed the permanence of one. It was for that reason that he had sought out a house instead of continuing to rent a motel room. It would never be the same as Hogwarts, his first true home, or the Burrow, the home he wished he could have had growing up, but perhaps one day, it would be.

The house was a bit of a fixer up, but it had a quaint feel to it that Harry had adored the moment he saw it. It had once been a Bed and Breakfast, but due to low business the owner had been forced to close the doors. With only a little finagling - and a fancy bit of wand work - Harry was able to purchase the entire house with all of the furnishings as well as move in immediately, bypassing weeks of paperwork and negotiations. Perhaps it wasn't the most ethical way to accomplish the purchase of his new home, but it had been quite effective.

Over the course of the day, Harry made several more attempts at contacting Hermione. He left message after message for her, but never got any reply. He tried to tell himself that she was probably perfectly fine, tucked away in her study surrounded by books, but by the time, he arrived home, he was nearly ready to Apparate to the Burrow, consequences be damned. Harry pushed open the front door and stopped dead in his tracks, nearly dropping the two bags of groceries that he had carefully balanced in one arm. Sitting as pretty as you please on his sofa was the demon.

"How did you get in?" Harry asked, dumbfounded, as he watched the demon rise fluidly off the sofa. "You've not been invited." Harry hadn't been pouring over book after book for nothing. He was beginning to know the rules that the demon had to go by.

Harry's knowledge seemed to please the demon because he gave Harry a broad smile and a wink. "Funny thing about your lovely house, Sparky... I don't need an invitation. You see, technically, this isn't your house - yet. Your wand waving may have enabled you to move into the house immediately, but no one can escape paper work - not even a wizard. So, like I said, technically you have thirty days before this house ceases to be public property."

"Fine," Harry snarled. "You've managed to gain entrance on a technicality. Bully for you. What do you want?"

The demon considered him for a long moment. "Is that any way to talk to your daddy? Especially when I've come to make you a deal."

Harry saw red. "For the last time - you are not my father!" he hissed. He drew the Elder Wand out and trained it on the demon, vibrating with anger. The picture frames on the wall shook as his anger escalated. "And there's nothing you could offer me that I would ever want."

The demon, far from being angry or afraid in the least, threw his head back and laughed. "I wouldn't be so sure," he said. "How about the soul of your mommy being raised from perdition?"

"That again?" Harry said, nonplussed. "I'm not falling for that. You see, there's no way my mum's in hell. I've seen her, you know. Twice. So she can't be in hell."

The demon didn't look abashed in the least. "I guess you're not as stupid as I thought you were. Okay, how about this, then? You give me the Elder Wand, and I won't kill any more of your friends."

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. "Any more of my friends? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Not quite as bright as you'd like to think, are you?" The demon mused. "Not like your little friend. You know the one, that pretty little brunette? Smart as a whip, that one, doesn't miss a trick."

"Hermione," Harry breathed, his eyes narrowing in anger. "What have you done to Hermione?"

The demon cut Harry off with a wave of his hand. "Nothing she didn't bring on herself. Like I said, she's smart. A little too smart, if you know what I mean. Couldn't have her spoiling all my fun, now, could I? A shame that she couldn't keep her nose out of things that didn't concern her. I would have liked to make her child into one of my own," the demon paused. "You did know that she was pregnant, didn't you?"

The temperature in the room became stifling as the demon's words sunk in. Hermione had been researching something for him. While researching, she'd obviously discovered something truly dire. Something that she had had every intention of telling to Harry. Something that the demon obviously didn't want him to know. The demon had killed Hermione because of him. The demon had killed both Hermione and her baby because of him.

The demon's smile was beatific. "I think we understand one another now. The Elder Wand, if you please."

Harry closed his eyes in agony. Hermione had been one of his closest and dearest friends, and now she was dead because of him. He wanted nothing more than to give the demon the Elder Wand right that very moment, but he wouldn't. Hermione wouldn't have wanted that. Hadn't she said over and over again how dangerous it would be for any demon to have control over it? "No," he said, his voice scarcely above a whisper.

The demon's eyes widened. "No?" He said the word as if he didn't truly believe Harry had actually said it. "I must have been mistaken because I thought you said no, and I know you really aren't that foolish."

"I'm not giving you the Elder Wand. Is that plain enough for you?"

The demon tutted. "You really leave me no choice then. If you won't hand over that wand, after I've asked so nicely, then I guess I'll just have to keep killing your friends. How about one every day until you've given in, or until I've run out of friends to kill?"

When Harry made no move to give the wand to the demon, he continued. "I wonder who I should kill next? Perhaps your best buddy Ron, or maybe his little sister? Ah, yes," said the demon, noticing when he'd caught a nerve. "Miss Ginevra Weasley... Fiesty little red haired thing. Like dear old mommy, isn't she? A little too Oedipal for my tastes, but whatever floats your boat, Sparky." He gave Harry a wink. "Guess she doesn't really float your boat anymore. You're batting for the other team now..."

The demon continued talking, but his words were drowned out by the roaring of the wind in Harry's ears. Everything around him seemed to be happening in slow motion. He was vaguely aware of a knocking at his door, but all he could think of was how he wanted, more than anything, to hurt the demon like he was hurting now.

The demon fell to the ground with a pain-filled shriek. Harry watched in pleasure as the demon's body writhed and his legs contorted in pain for several long minutes before the shrieks died out and the demon picked himself up off the ground.

When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse and breathless, but he seemed positively elated. "Oh boy, I think this is going to work out nicely. You see what you can accomplish with the right motivation?" His tone turned thoughtful. "You know what? I think I'll let you keep the Elder Wand, for now. Love the new eye color, by the way."

The demon disappeared with a snap of his fingers as the front door burst open to reveal Dean and another boy, this one tall with dark hair.

"Whoa, looks like a tornado hit this place," the dark-haired boy said.

It was only then that Harry took in the state of disarray his house was now in. The many paintings that covered the walls had all fallen to the floor and their frames were now broken. Several of the windows were now broken as well which allowed water from the heavy rainfall currently taking place to soak the rugs nearby.

Harry wiped at liquid running down his face only to realize that it was blood. He looked at his hands feeling oddly disconnected from his body. "I'm bleeding," he said inanely before collapsing on the floor.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Sorry for the wait. I got about half of this written and chucked it because I didn't like it. Still don't, but every time I try it comes out pretty much the same. Please don't kill me!