A/N: Have you ever had a ridiculous idea that just wouldn't let go? This fic was the product of a crackish idea that was planted in my head and then started talking to me. I had to shut it up. The weird thing? I firmly believe that Harry and Murphy need to stop being difficult and get together (though I've only read up to Small Favor, and right now her pining for Kincaid is irritating me. I'm also not sure w.t.f. Harry is doing with Luccio. No way is that going to end well.) But c'mon. Harry/Marcone is a lesser Harry pairing evil. I could have made him have an affair with Charity.

Disclaimer: I think this proves quite well that I own neither Supernatural nor The Dreshen Files. I merely have an overactive imagination, and whether I even own that is highly debatable.

Michael wheeled himself up the aisle with difficulty. He realized that it would have been easier with Charity's assistance, but Michael wanted a moment of privacy. He wasn't sure why, but for some reason he wished to be alone in the church.

He finally maneuvered himself in front of the alter. Michael bowed his head.

"Lord, it's me. Michael. I wish to thank you for my continued recovery. My children are thrilled that I'm home with them, despite my condition. I managed to move my leg after Harry puked on it-little Harry, not the wizard." Michael paused. "Though it is on the subject of the elder Harry that I ask your guidance. I worry for Harry. He has been embroiled in much, and while I have faith in him, I cannot help but fear that he has been digging himself into deeper matters than he can handle. Just paying his rent is beyond him, and unfortunately, beyond me. I have heard rumors…but I hesitate to trust them. Lord, I merely wonder if perhaps Harry has more on his shoulders than he can handle."

"Your concerns are valid." Michael blinked. Then blinked again.

A man in a trench coat had appeared in front of him. A ratty trench coat. He was of average height and had brown hair. His eyes were icy blue, and he was staring at Michael with a slightly creepy gaze.

"I beg your pardon?" Even when strange homeless men snuck up on him in churches, Michael made it a point to be polite. No longer being a knight of the cross was no excuse to skimp on manners.

"My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord." Michael's mouth dropped open. The candles in the church made the man's shadow stretch out behind him, almost up to the altar.

The shadow had wings.

"Michael?" Michael started. Castiel had vanished. Father Forthill trotted up the aisle, looking concerned. "Charity sent me to find you, she said something about Molly and Alicia and softball." Forthill peered closer and frowned. "Michael, are you feeling quite alright?"

"Yes, thank you." Michael sighed. "Merely trying to interpret a few messages."

"I wish you luck." Forthill chuckled. "May I help, or is this higher up on the chain?"

"Recent events make me wonder if it isn't above all of us." Michael smiled weakly. It wasn't every day he was confronted with an angel.

…well, there was that one time, but he wasn't completely sure she had been an angel and besides that was by a strip club. Michael was unsure if it counted.

Far more worrying was the implication that his concerns over Harry's welfare were absolutely true, and severe enough that a genuine angel was called in. Michael made a mental note to call Sanya.

"We can all help." Forthill said reassuringly. "Even right now, you can help serve God by making sure that a dedicated priest of his doesn't die."

"Charity was that angry eh?" Michael smiled wryly. "I promised to make cookies for the softball game. I suppose I should get going and tell her that they're cooling." Forthill politely moved into a pew to let Michael past.

Michael rested his head on his hands in his customary evening prayer. He was half expecting Castiel to come back, and the other half was dreading it. He was in a wheelchair, surely the lord had no perilous task to drag him from his children now?

"No. While I assume that any time spent on this will lead you to be separated from your various children for small increments of time, you would still be in Chicago, barring extraordinary circumstances and lapses in John Marcone's judgment." Michael sighed. Castiel was standing off to the edge of the bed, looking deadly serious. "If necessary, I am prepared to fly you home each night to ensure that you do not spend undue time away from your wife."

"I…" Michael breathed in deeply. "I am always willing to serve the Lord in any way possible. What must I do?"

The angel shifted. "The wizard known as Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden is important to us. He must be brought into tighter alliance with John Marcone, and as neither party is moving themselves to action, their romantic lives must be put in the hands of trustworthy members of the church."

"What?" Michael thought that through. "You're saying that…God wants me to set up Harry with the Crime King of Chicago?" Killing Denarians had been so much easier than this.

"What on earth?" Castiel grimaced. Charity, in her nightdress, had appeared in the doorway. She'd been in the bathroom while Michael prayed, and come into the room to see a strange man looming over her husband. "Michael, who is this?"

"My name is Castiel, and I carry a message from God." Castiel shot Charity that piercing stare. "I am tasked with aiding your husband in the coupling of Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden and John Marcone."

Charity's mouth fell open. Michael held a quick mental debate over the wisdom of telling her that she was frothing and decided against it. Never say that he learned nothing from twenty years of marriage.

"My…sir." Charity bowed her head, managing to look dignified despite the toothpaste dribble and revealing underclothes. "Whatever I can do to help."

Castiel glared at a wall. "The same applies to your daughter?"

Molly Carpenter flickered into view, looking guilty. Michael shot her a severe look.

"But Dad! There was a little whoosh and I heard speaking, and you were in the room with some homeless dude, and I couldn't just leave you!" Molly shifted her weight. "I totally want to help out. Harry hasn't been laid in like, five hundred years and maybe if he let out a bit of the sexual tension in their weirdo relationship he'd be less inclined to lecture about beads! Or stalk around muttering about personality disorders and onions."

Castiel blinked. "I was told only to recruit the former knight of the cross. If he is willing, you may take part in our quest."

Michael sighed, but nodded. "Molly, just don't use neuromancy. And don't tell Harry about any of this. You know how he'll react."

"You mean stare at us, make a bad joke and stomp off to shower?" Molly crossed her arms. "I'm not that stupid."

"You are however, young, and need to sleep." Charity jerked her head at the door. "Go to bed. And no using magic light to read beneath the covers." Molly nodded innocently.

"I would never do something like that Mom." Not now that Harry had showed her that see in the dark potion. That alone meant that she owed it to her mentor to get him laid. "I'll just go to bed." With one final speculative look at Castiel, Molly wandered off to make a list of questions she intended to put to the angel the next day.

"As for you, sir angel-" Castiel put up a hand.

"I am aware of the human necessity for eight hours of sleep." He frowned. "Theoretically at least. Most humans I have encountered seem to go by on substantially less."

"Of course, as an angel you promote sleep." She said it loudly, in case Molly was still within earshot. The angel slowly nodded. If Charity didn't know better, she would say that was a guilty look on his face.

"Of course madam. We will meet in the morning at the time of your convenience." Castiel vanished. Charity glanced at Michael.

"That did just happen right?" Michael nodded.

"I'm afraid it did." Charity let out a whush of breath.

"Dear, I believe it might have been less trouble if they told us to just kill Marcone." Charity swallowed. "Tomorrow will be a difficult day."

Michael and Charity sat on their couch, waiting. Molly was cross legged, with a notebook, eagerly awaiting for their angelic visitor. Her parents waited with more trepidation.

Whoosh

"I…am I late?" Castiel looked vaguely uncomfortable at the sight of all of them. "I was delayed." Molly sniffed.

He smelled like bacon and a hotel room. She scribbled that down. Molly had decided that an essay about an angel would be the perfect extra credit to make Harry teach her about Hrothbert of Bainbridge, a person who had come up in her reading once and of whom Harry was avoiding speaking.

"Not at all." Michael gestured to the coffee table. "We have scones, if angels eat."

"I've eaten." Castiel frowned. "What is your plan?"

"Well for one, we need to get them into the same room." Michael shrugged. "I've met Marcone once, when he was captured by the Denarians. Looking back, he was giving a Dresden a longing look, but I was busy at the time."

"We should ask Thomas." Molly spoke up. "He'd be thrilled to hook Harry up with guy, it'd be hilarious to him." Castiel nodded emphatically.

"That would correlate with the behavioral patterns I have seen." Michael sighed.

"I'll get Harry's emergency contact information, I think Thomas's business is listed there. Charity, could you watch the kids?" Charity bristled.

"I should come. You might need assistance, and Father Forthill is probably available." Michael knew that Charity didn't get along well with Thomas when they weren't in a life or death situation. She was still annoyed with the vampire for taking him to a den of iniquity.

"I'll have Molly with me. And dear, Thomas and you don't get along. We do need him in a good mood." Charity nodded grudgingly.

Thomas's first reaction was to laugh. Hysterically. For a ten minutes. While his customers stared in bewilderment and whispered behind their hands about the new attractive men visiting Toe-moss at work.

"Wait, wait." Thomas's giggles finally stopped and he held up a hand. "This guy is an angel."

"Yes." The angel stared at him. "Your brother's mental state may determine a great deal of things. This is necessary."

"But…" Thomas shrugged. Aside from how weird it would be to set Harry up with a dude, Harry was already in a relationship. With him. "I need him as my cover. I'd go out of business if my clients thought I was straight."

"You can tell them," Castiel paused, his eyes going out of focus as if he'd just gotten an idea and was wondering whether or not to use it. "Tell them that you are engaged to Sam Winchester. A photo can be procured, if absolutely necessary."

Thomas shot the angel a weird look. He didn't know a Sam Winchester.

But then again, this was an angel. He must have some sort of purpose in pulling these names. Or perhaps Sam Winchester was some sort of angel code for: person who'd date a demon. Or maybe it was just the heavenly dump man. Whatever. Gotta trust the angels.

Well, gotta at least comply with the angels so they don't smite one's ass.

"…okay, fine." Thomas thought. Harry did yammer about Marcone's eyes whenever the man came up in conversation. Which was surprisingly frequently, when he thought about it. And Harry had gone to interesting lengths to make sure Marcone was safe. And he had a creepy ability to figure out Marcone's psyche. Perhaps heaven wasn't entirely crazy.

"You must aid us." Castiel stated. "If Harry Dresden were to become unhinged, things would go badly for this city. We cannot afford any more major league chaos. John Marcone and he coming together would form an unshakeable protection for the area, and guarantee that two extremely important personages were still on the side of the light."

"And Harry desperately needs to get laid." Molly added. Thomas nodded agreement.

"That alone is enough reason for me to help you guys." Thomas rested his chin on his hands. "Of course, Harry is bound to object to this."

"Covert action will be necessary." Michael agreed.

"Wait, did you say Sam Winchester?" Molly interrupted. Her expression was suddenly intrigued. It was as if something had just clicked, and it opened up a world of possibilities.

"Yes." Castiel nodded. Molly's eyes had taken on a strange gleam.

"Dad, can we stop at the library on the way home?" Michael stared at her. "To…do research. There are some books I'd like to check out. And perhaps I could crash a couple of computers, so Harry will get mad and we'll go somewhere out of the city to work on training. That'll get him away from his apartment for sure." Molly was getting to be quite proud of her ability to bullshit on the fly. "While he's away you can break in and then, hopefully you can plant something so that he has reason to go hunt down Marcone. That will at least bring them into contact. From there, we can lock them in a room, well no we can't do that because Harry would blast his way out and Marcone can get his way out of ropes forty feet above a pit with a werewolf around, Harry talks about that all the time so no to that idea…" Molly realized she was rambling. Maybe she wasn't as good at the bullshit as she hoped. "I can't come up with all the ideas!"

"I can make pointed comments whenever they interact." Thomas offered.

"Doesn't work." Castiel muttered. He looked grim. Molly wondered.

"I may be able to talk to them both." Michael shrugged. "May I speak with John Marcone first? I would like some sort of proof that he isn't just going to mess with Harry's mind even more. If that's okay with you sir."

"You can't talk to Marcone!" Thomas yelped. "He'll talk to Harry! And if Marcone proposes it, it'll end up sounding like prostitution, and Harry will storm off in a huff." Thomas frowned. "No no, we need to talk to someone in Marcone's inner circle."

"Demeter." Molly said. "Harry said if he went missing and I suspected Marcone that I should contact her. Apparently she works at some gym he has membership to." Thomas giggled.

"I know the woman. Alright, how about Michael and Molly get to the library and start getting Harry away from the apartment. I'll plant some hair or something in Harry's apartment, and Michael can talk to Murphy about making sure Dresden ends up okay in this whole deal. She'll look after Harry if anything bad happens." Thomas glanced at his watch. "And I need to get back to my clients. Sir." he added for Castiel's benefit.

"Should help be needed, I am at your disposal." Castiel said gravely.

"You're joking." Murphy said flatly. Michael had cornered her in her office. Molly sat on the floor nearby. She got the job of chauffeuring her father around town.

"I would never joke about an angel." Michael replied. "I thought it prudent to warn you about this particular development in Harry's love life. I know you have feelings for him."

"Dresden and I wouldn't work out." muttered Murphy. "But no way in hell am I letting you set Harry up with Chicago's biggest criminal!"

"Murphy, this is God's will."

"Marcone is a criminal." Murphy repeated. "Harry's duty would be to arrest him the minute Marcone let down his guard!"

"I've noticed Harry taking a different approach." Michael said dryly. Murphy scowled. "And good luck arresting Marcone."

"They got Whitey."

"When he was 83. And not a member of the Accords." Michael paused. "I'd also like to point something out to you."

Murphy raised an eyebrow.

"Has it occurred to you that if Harry is sleeping with Marcone, you have someone poised to give you information? If they broke up, Harry could probably give you enough information to cripple him."

"Please. Marcone doesn't plan things short term like that…" Murphy trailed off. "I guess he is a little like Harry."

"I bet Marcone would be more than willing to give the police information on his enemies, if he had an informant the police could trust. It would cut down on crime."

"But he's a criminal."

"Yes." Murphy squawked when Castiel appeared at Michael's shoulder. "But one who has been known to take risk to prevent bloodshed. Dresden would encourage this." Castiel stared at Murphy. She was gaping. "As a protector of civilians, you should see this as a favorable alliance."

"They could be allied without sleeping together." Murphy suggested weakly. Molly looked up from her paperback to glare.

"Karrin, Dresden doesn't go halfway." Michael reminded her gently.

"And come on. Those two need to jump each other like now, or they're just going to keep having an argument every single time they're in the same room." Molly added. Murphy sighed.

"Fine. I'll do what I can to-"

"Remember those walls I built, well baby they're tumbling down, they didn't even put up a fight, they didn't even make a sound. I swore I'd never fall again, but this don't even feel like falling"

"I have to take this." Castiel whipped a cellphone from his pocket. He strode off, phone tightly pressed to his ear.

"A messenger of god has a cellphone." Murphy deadpanned. Molly giggled and went back to her book.

Thomas crouched behind his new car. He'd bought himself an SUV just for the occasion, so Harry wouldn't notice. He fingered his pentagram, waiting.

A slamming door.

"You managed to not only blow out the lights of an entire library, obviously neglecting the control you supposedly mastered a year ago, but I had to find out from your mother who wants to know if she should stop letting you drive Michael around-" Thomas smirked.

There they were. Harry was stomping out to the beetle, ranting. Molly hurried after, looking suitably sulky. Thomas waited until Harry had driven off (in that ridiculous car, despite Thomas's offers to buy him a new one). Thomas shook his head in despair and entered the apartment.

Hmmm. He'd come equipped with a bit of hair from one of Marcone's thugs, and a bag to carry off some stuff, but what would a crime lord steal?

Thomas glanced around the living room distastefully. Certainly nothing from here. Hopefully, Marcone would be able to refurnish it. The lab then. He could rob something magical, something Harry would instantly notice.

He had opened the trapdoor and climbed into the lab.

"Well well." Thomas froze. He'd completely forgotten about that witness. "What are you doing, Mr. Succubus?"

"Ah…" Thomas winced. Lying to a spirit of knowledge, or convincing said spirit to lie to a master that had the power to crush them if they were caught in a lie, would be difficult. "Honestly? I'm setting up Harry with John Marcone because a literal angel told me to."

"Really?" Bob's eyes glowed. "That's great!"

"…is it?"

"Yes! God, the sexual tension, the money, the romance Harry so desperately needs, the numerous prostitutes Marcone employs who would totally love to polish a skull if he paid them…" Bob's tone went lewd. "Getting Harry laid for once in his life.

"Okay." Thomas decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Gift skull. Whatever. "Well, I'm planting evidence to suggest that Marcone paid someone to break into Harry's apartment so Harry will rush downtown to confront him."

"That is what you call a plan?" Bob snorted. "Suddenly I find it believable that you and Harry share genetics."

Thomas glared. "I suppose you have better ideas."

"Obviously." Bob hopped over to a novel. It fluttered open. "Harry accidentally picked me up a gay romance last week, and it's just given me loads of ideas."

Thomas swallowed. God help his little brother.

"How did you get in here?"

"The people you employ are mostly women." Thomas said dryly. "I assure you, it wasn't difficult." Demeter watched him with hooded eyes.

"Your intentions then."

"I want you to get Marcone somewhere. Somewhere private, where he wouldn't be disturbed."

"And why should I comply?"

"For one, you've informed against Marcone to people far more frightening than little old me." Her eyes widened. "It would be tragic if Marcone found out and decided you really weren't worth it." Thomas held up a hand when she tried to speak.

"There's another reason. I doubt you want to be Marcone's whore forever-probably, you don't even want to be that now. What I'm doing is setting him up with someone who'll keep him occupied his whole life, ensuring that you'll be dumped. Still provided for, because Marcone won't just leave you out in the cold when you did nothing wrong, but no longer sleeping with Marcone."

"You're putting him with Harry Dresden."

"How did you know?"

"Marcone talks to the people he sleeps with. I've heard him talk about the bounties on Harry he's taken care of, the way Harry fights, whether Harry might work with him if not for him, and rant about the latest thing he'd decided must have been a Dresden Doing." She shot Thomas a cynical look. "Believe me, when the first thing a man talks about post sex is another man, you figure things out fast."

"So you'll help."

"I would gain, and there is little now for me to lose. I can persuade John that meeting me at his lakeside mansion would be fun. He could be there by noon tomorrow."

Thomas nodded. "Good idea. And don't go telling Marcone any of this. It's the will of heaven."

"I find it worrying that you don't appear to be lying." Thomas grinned and left. Demeter picked up the phone to call Marcone, feeling vaguely perturbed.

Harry was a private detective. This meant he noticed suspicious things for a living. That being said, he would have to be blind to miss the way Molly was glancing at him from under her lashes every few seconds.

"Okay grasshopper. Out with it." Molly twitched. "Something's wrong."

Molly burst into tears. Harry stared.

"Christ, was it something I said?" Molly sobbed harder, shaking her head. Harry hurriedly crouched down next to her, folding her into his arms. Mouse ambled over and plunked himself down beside them both.

"I-I can't tell you…" Molly was almost wailing by now.

Crap, whatever had her this distraught had to be big. Good. That would give Harry more time to beat the crap out of it. He had been hunting down a scourge of blampires, and if they were the cause then God help them.

"Okay, shh, shh." Or maybe a Fae queen? But Molly had been out with her father all day, and Michael would have noticed something wrong.

"H-he…" He? Nicodemus maybe?

"Who Molly?"

"M-m…" Molly peeped at him through her tears. "He didn't want me to tell you." Harry put on his macho face.

"Whoever he is, I'll make sure you're safe. I'll put all the wards up and Mouse will protect you." Molly nodded, trembling. "Now, who threatened you?"

"M-Marcone." Molly buried her face in Mouse's fur. Harry's entire body went tense.

"Marcone?" He sounded incredulous. "But why would he…"

"I-I don't know. He wanted me to work for him…the big guy said something about a lakehouse. He was scary." Molly whispered, her voice muffled by Mouse's fur.

"Bob!" Harry was beyond furious. Nobody fucked with his apprentice. Least of all Marcone, who he'd sort of trusted! "Marcone have a lakehouse?"

Bob quaked in his skull. Sheesh, and they talked about women scorned…

"My Norse buddy says it's an hour Midwest of here, in the housing complex by lake Michigan that Marcone's working on, apparently the only house with working utilities…" Bob had barely finished before Harry went storming out.

As he passed the hearth, Harry snatched Amoracchius and Fidilacchius. Marcone had a Valkryie in his service after all, best to be prepared for anything. Plus the whole black court business he was trying to wrap up.

Whatever. Vampires could wait, he had a crime lord to beat senseless.

Dresden kicked down the door and roared "Marcone!"

To his credit, the crime lord in the expensive and well fitted suit only blinked twice. Dresden, hellbent on inflicting property damage, was not what he'd expected to come through the door. He'd expected a scantily clad brunette.

Ah well. Dresden was almost always more fun than scantily clad women. The ideal of course, was a scantily clad Dresden, but Marcone was long since resigned to the fact that Dresden wasn't going to oblige him. He'd just have to be content ogling the figure Dresden cut in the coat.

"May I help you, Dresden?"

"I want to know exactly what you were thinking harassing my apprentice!" Marcone blinked again. Dresden noticed.

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about."

"Molly? I'm sure you know who she is, and that an hour ago she broke down crying because of something you said to her-" Harry frowned. "Wait. That doesn't make sense."

"Nor does it that Demeter is now extremely late." Marcone sighed. "I think we've been set up."

"Someone wanted us here, someone who threatened Molly into lying to me." Dresden bared his teeth. "Someone wants us out of the way."

"I concur." Marcone pulled a gun from under the table. "Am I alone in not wanting to comply?"

"Shall we make trouble, John?" Marcone loaded the gun. Barrels clacked into place in a vaguely ominous way.

"It would be my pleasure." Dresden readied his blasting rod. They strode to the door, and noticed the problem at the same time.

"The door should be open."

"You're hard on doors, it should be hanging off one hinge." Marcone muttered. Harry cautiously tried to open the door. It refused. Harry swore and tried the lock-it wasn't locked. It just wouldn't open.

Marcone cursed at his cellphone. "All I get on communications is static. Someone probably took out Hendricks an Gard."

"Great." Harry began trying windows. "I think we're locked in."

"They won't be able to get out?" Thomas asked. Michael crossed his arms and eyed Thomas.

"Castiel is preventing it. He is a member of the heavenly host. You don't think he can keep a wizard and a human in a house?"

"I assure you, Castiel has more than enough power to keep a few doors shut." Gard said. She sipped her lemonade. Michael was impressed, though not surprised, that Castiel had convinced her to side with them. And Gard had persuaded Hendricks, who was also sprawled on the grass by the lakehouse.

Marcone had chosen an excellent location for his lakehouse. On one side were woods, with a road winding through them, and on the other, undeveloped lakehouses. A few were just basic structures and basements.

He had to give his daughter props. She had managed to veil him, Gard, Hendricks, Thomas, Mouse, and Bob-in-Mister's-body. Everyone involved had insisted on watching.

Michael himself was, of course, above spying. It wasn't knightly. He was not however, above listening to his daughter's spy report.

"They're testing windows in awkward silence." Molly said crossly. "They've even decided it was probably the work of a black scourge in town. They almost as bad as-argh!" Molly threw herself onto the grass and went back to her novel.

Michael wasn't sure he'd ever seen her read this much-whatever new series she'd discovered must be intriguing. What was it called? Super something or other…

Irrelevant. He could make sure they weren't unholy books later. For now something had to be done to prompt Harry and Marcone.

"Bob." He nodded to the cat. Eyes dancing merrily, Mister went on the offensive.

I could SO see Molly as a SPN fan girl

Harry was forced to admit, after much testing, that the doors and windows were not going to open. Also that he was starving. And Marcone had a table with food.

It was vaguely disconcerting to be eating food intended for Marcone's mistress. So, rather than look Marcone in the face, Harry mused on possible ways to get out.

"I wonder if I could blast through the roof?" Harry thought out loud. "I could send up a flare up for Gard and she'd pick us up in the helicopter."

"Hmmm…" Marcone slowly chewed a bite of pigeon. "That's an excellent idea. I'll show you up to the roof."

Marcone rose and walked to an ornate staircase. Harry thought that staircase belonged in the Cinderella castle at Disneyworld, not anywhere near Chicago. It was a nice train of though to distract from how well fitted Marcone's suit was. Particularly around the backside.

He was a detective, he was trained to notice details!

A grey blur slammed into Marcone'e legs. He lost his balance-whatever the hell that thing was, it had to weigh thirty pounds! Marcone stumbled backwards. When he hit Harry, the detective's arms wrapped round his chest on reflex. Marcone blinked and looked up.

Harry blushed. He would later deny turning a shade of red that Bianca's flame dress wished it could be.

Damn arms. Damn chivalrous reflex. Damn Marcone for being catchable.

"Was that your cat?" Marcone extracted himself from Harry's embrace.

"That was. How in the hell did Mister get here?" Harry glanced at Marcone. Marcone had the same look he got when he was about to win. "What?"

"I know how to get us out." Harry grinned.

"How?" Marcone stepped closer to Harry and decided to go for it. He would later deny that the decision wasn't entirely based on logic.

"Like this." Marcone reached up and put a hand on the back of Dresden's neck and pulled the wizard down to his level. Then he kissed him.

Harry, as used to the inexplicable, unexplained, and downright loony as he was, was blindsided. Hs very treacherous lips of course, knew how to react, and his equally traitorous hands automatically went on Marcone's hips, and the all around evil libido happily sprang up. So for perhaps one minute, he stood making out with John Marcone. John fucking Marcone.

That was about as much time as it took for brainpower to return and him to step away, sputtering.

Marcone sighed and crossed his arms. He was not hurt at the look on Harry's face.

"Eh?" Harry croaked out.

"This whole thing is a set up, engineered by your inner circle. Obviously." Harry thought furiously. "No one coerced your apprentice. Someone must have coerced Demeter, and how I have no idea…but they're under the impression we're horses who will, when put in an isolated space together, inevitably mate."

"Mate?"

"If they only wanted us out of the way, it would have been smarter to keep up separate. And this is a romantic setting."

He was going to kill his apprentice. Screw child protection laws. Michael would forgive him, he had loads of replacement children. Then he would smash Bob's skull into powder and feed it to Thomas, who undoubtedly had a hand in this.

Harry stormed towards the stairs, intending to channel his rage into a blast that would be seen for miles. Then he paused.

"If Molly is in on this, she'd know the first thing I'd so would be blast a way out. So they'll have prepared for that." Marcone concealed a smile. "We're stuck here."

"It would seem so." Harry snarled and shook his fist at the window.

Castiel, from his all seeing vantage point, winced. As Dean would say, Molly was in for a world of hurt.

"I suggest making the most of it." Harry eyed Marcone. "We could convince them that something had happened. I have a hot tub that I'm sure would be just to your tastes."

"I'm not going to get into a hot tub with you while trapped in a ridiculous mansion by my demented apprentice." Marcone rolled his eyes.

"You realize your issue Harry? You're too stubborn. You refuse yourself pleasure through pure contrariness."

"Oh, because getting in a hot tub would help the situation?"

"It might." Harry glared. Marcone glared right back.

"It's not pure contrariness, it's not letting someone else dictate my life, own me, or otherwise control me! And the list of people who've tried to do that includes you." Marcone snorted.

"You know, you were the first person who wouldn't work for me?" Harry blinked. "You actually had the guts to say no, to my face. And you were the first person who could turn out to be an enemy that I didn't kill."

"Really?" Harry hated how easy it was to get drawn into these conversations with Marcone.

"It may interest you that you're the only person I know who also treats me as a real person. It makes me rather fond of you." Harry stiffened.

"Yay for me."

"Stubbornness and withdrawal when talk anywhere near emotional comes to a head. It's not wonder you're unable to keep up relationships."

"I've had plenty of perfectly happy relationships!"

"Correction. You had a woman betray you multiple times, you had a woman who ended up with a partial conversion to vampirism, you hallucinated a woman in Bock's store, and you went out with the captain you consistently keep secrets from." Marcone added as an afterthought "And you lost a potential mate to an ancient evil demon. I would not deem any of those successful."

Harry stared. "How the hell do you know about Sheila?"

"I keep tabs on those I protect."

"That was ages ago, and the only person there was Bock." Marcone shrugged. "You bribed Bock?"

"Bribe is a strong word. I prefer persuaded."

"I keep you points for persistence." Harry sighed. "I'm tired."

"Hot tubs are excellent for that."

Lasciel's hot tub had nothing on Marcone's. It was a massive, marble thing with golden faucets and more bath soaps than Harry's ever seen in his life. Harry groaned, noting that Marcone stayed within the bounds of propriety and stayed on the other side of the hot tub.

"Someday, I need to get hot water in my apartment." Harry said. John stiffened. He'd never heard Harry sound that pleasured.

"I could arrange that."

"If you're trying to bribe me into being your mantress, it won't work."

"Mantress." Marcone sighed. "No one else says such exciting things to me Harry."

Harry rolled his eyes. True, Marcone had gotten him into a hot tub by sheer force of charisma, but he wasn't about to bend over for the man. Little Harry could ignore those shoulders. And those eyes.

"You know, it would be nice if you stopped hating me long enough to consider the possibility of a relationship."

Harry hadn't been able to hate Marcone in years.

"For one, we're just trying to get them to let us out. Secondly, you're a guy. I'm straight."

"Everyone was bisexual until society kicked in. Think how the wardens would react." Harry chuckled. John emphatically told Little John to shut up.

"Point." Harry leaned his head back. Life before John Marcone started interfering with things was simpler, but it was almost hard to remember. John had been hovering around forever, it seemed. "Let's say, hypothetically, that I agreed to this. What would it be like?"

Little John cheered. John began inching around the hottub towards Harry.

"Oh, I can assure you. It'll be fun."

When, a good while later, Harry had been persuaded that "gay relationship with crime lord" really wouldn't be so bad, he noticed something.

"John. The window is open."

The front door proved to be unlocked as well. Harry stormed out shoulder to shoulder with Marcone, Amoracchius in one hand and his staff in the other. They stopped short.

"Michael?"

"Hendricks…"

"Boss, there's an angel."

"Harry, I apologize for the subterfuge but it was the will of heaven." Molly stayed behind her father's wheelchair, hoping that Michael could diffuse Harry's anger. "The man in the trench coat is Castiel. He is an angel of the lord, sent from heaven for this task."

Marcone stared at Castiel with honest curiosity. Night was just falling.

Harry's head whipped up. "Guys, I sense-"

Just then, because Harry Dresden's life was never complete without some sort of fight against evil, a scourge of black court vampires surged from the basement of the house under construction. Molly grabbed her father's shoulder and they both disappeared.

Marcone yanked Harry down at the same instant Harry activated his shield. Hendricks, Gard, and Thomas opened fire.

Castiel raised a hand, about to administer some wrath of God, when a gun fired and two total strangers burst onto the scene.

"Dean!"

"Cas!"

"Cas?" Michael mouthed incredulously.

"Harry, duck!" Harry raised his shield as a blampire flung itself at him. He lunged with Amoracchius and managed to spit one vamp. Marcone pulled him out of the line of fire from Gard's gun-two vampires were sneaking up from behind. Harry swore, and Ammorrachius went flying from his hand.

A pack of vampires had ganged up on the two random strangers, and one sent the tall one flying into a wall and the short one sailing past Harry.

A vampire bounded for the short one. He groped on the ground for a weapon, and his hand found Amoracchius's hilt.

White light blazed. The vampire nearest didn't have time to shriek before it was disintegrated. The light momentarily blinded all combatants.

Except of course the vampires, which it killed.

As soon as the light turned to a moderate glow, Castiel rushed to the side of the short one. "Dean!"

"Oh hello Cas, nice to see you, I've just been tossed into a wall but no go check on my randomly light emitting brother." The tall one grumbled.

"Cas, what the hell?"

"You've just been chosen as the next knight of the cross." Castiel and the short one locked eyes. The ensuing stare down made Harry feeling voyeuristic.

"…fine." Dean shrugged and waved the sword carelessly. "I've done stupider things."

"Not to be rude, but who the hell are you two?" Thomas asked. He held out a hand to haul the tall one to his feet.

"I'm Sam Winchester and that's my brother Dean. We were looking for Cas when we came on the Scourge's trail and followed it here."

Thomas stared in fascination. "You're Sam Winchester?"

"Um, yes?"

"The angel told me to tell all the customers who have to believe that I'm gay that I was dating you."

"I…what…you…" Sam turned and glared Castiel. The angel was off in his happy "I'm with Dean, screw the rest of the world" bubble. "Jerk."

"Did you just call an angel a jerk?"

"No, that was directed at Dean. Castiel knew Dean would find it hilarious to tell people that I'm supposed to be dating a succubus". He widened the glare to encompass both of them. "Ha ha. Only one person in the family can be in a weird gay supernatural relationship."

"Who…" Thomas stared at Cas. The angel was touching Dean's shoulder and smiling. "Seriously?"

"Yes. I can and will kick your ass if you make one rude comment."

"I just set my wizard brother up with a male crime lord. Weird is my thing." Sam clapped him on the shoulder. He was about to say something in agreement when a blonde blur knock into him.

"OhmygawdSam!" Sam choked as the random blonde hugged him. "You poor thing! Obviously all you ever needed was a hug! If your idiot family would just hold hug orgies nothing bad would ever happen!"

"I beg your pardon?" Molly released him and smiled adoringly. Sam gulped. "Look there's Dean and Cas!"

Molly bounded off to administer more hugs and advice. Sam wiped his forehead.

"Who was that girl?" Thomas snickered at Sam's expression.

"Harry's apprentice. She's been reading a book series about you." Sam's horrified look grew. "I got to listen to a rant about sexual chemistry and the merits of something called wincest vs. destiel."

"No, dude. Stop. Stop right now." Thomas's face said he was puzzling it out. "Dude, don't go down that road."

"Winchester incest?" Thomas broke down into a laughing fit. Sam scowled.

"Shut up. Just…shut up." Why did Dean have the compulsive need to follow Castiel around? Why did Castiel have to understand Dean's sense of humor perfectly and act on it? Why was it necessary for the angel to even get into situations where there was a wizard being set up with a criminal who had a vampire brother who had a reputation to uphold about gayness?

Dean and Cas were grinning at each other stupidly. The wizard and the crime lord were both still crouched on the ground, muttering together.

Oh right. Love.

A/N: Just to clarify, I have nothing against wincest. I think it's unavoidable in this fandom and therefore have decided that they're both pretty, who am I to dislike them being pretty together? I do however, mock it. The character's reactions were just so asljnougfhdfllolz.

Oh, and I think Molly reacted exactly the same way I would if Dean and Sam randomly showed up. Those boys need to hug it out. As do Dean and Cas.

There also may be a sequel to this. I have more crackish ideas about Harry and Marcone…and thank God Sofuzzles is awesome. I wouldn't be able to look her in the face after writing this is she didn't have a good sense of humor.