Title: Celtic Stars and Crooked Scars

Characters: Harry Potter, Dean, Sam

Rating: M (for language only)

Warnings: Language, non-descriptive torture, and blood.

Spoilers: None, though this happens in Season 3, so knowing up until then might be helpful.

Word Count:1,036 (~13,000 total)

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter series or Supernatural. Nor do I own the lyrics at the end.

Summary: Dean finds himself captured by a real psychopath, and meets Harry, a boy who has been chained up for years. It's a desperate attempt at survival and time is ticking away. Tick tock, Dean, tick tock.

Author's Note: This is a very short little piece I wrote. It's not necessarily an epilogue, but since I'm thinking about writing a longer sequel, this is more of a little peek at what (might) happen.

Harry unintentionally winces when the iron rod swings a little two close to his head, then quickly half-steps away. His focus is solely on the being in front of him. The corrupted, blackened creature grins, wiping blood reverently from the mouth of whatever human it's currently possessing.

"Oh, poor, poor child. All alone with no one here to help you." It mocks, the heated words spilling from its lips in a cacophony of hate and disgust.

The words are lethal to Harry, who glares and desperately tries to ignore the blind panic that the mocking tone and whimsical words that spring from the ugly demons' lips. The feeling the words strike in him is unmistakeable — fear.

He hates being afraid.

The young boy simply presses his lips tighter together, keeping low to the ground as his eyes seeks a weapon — any weapon. Of course, there is nothing around that could so much as hurt the host body, let alone kill a bloody demon. He feels familiar helplessness — his fate is completely in the hands of whatever demon is after him now.

More than anything else, he hates being at the mercy of a demon who clambered up from Hell on a whim.

Harry ducks below another swing the demon takes, almost in a casual fashion. The hatred reflecting in both sets of eyes is unmistakeable. He bristles slightly as the demon smiles and swings once more.

Harry knows it's playing with him.

It likes the fear it sees in the boy's eyes. It hungers for the cries of pain and tangible dismay he gives off as he tries to flee from the situation. The fear in the air thickens when Harry realizes there is nowhere to escape. He's locked in a room with a demon for the second time in his life — terrified.

Alone.

And this time, the demon is real.

"What's your name, little boy?" The demon's endless black eyes glitter in the false light, completely mad as all demons tend to be. "And why would such a young child be with the Winchesters?"

Harry stays quiet — he's not going to give into the demon's demand for information.

Not without a fight.

"Not going to tell me? Are you sure that's a wise idea?" The demon drops the rod in one corner, but there's no way Harry is fast enough to run past the demon and get it without being killed in the process.

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers." He mutters cheekily, not caring whether the demon hears him — Harry's just so tired of fighting for his life. For once, he just wants to be left alone for awhile...a few days even.

The constant taunting and tormenting is making it a little hard to forget that he's in a life or death situation.

He wants to forget.

He wants to forget everything. He wants to let his past leave him. He wants Calem's constant presence within his head — taunting him — to go away. He wants his entire past erased — from the moment he was dropped off at his aunts house up to the second he was rescued from the god-forsaken underground cavern by Dean.

But the memories don't leave.

They never do.

They never will.

Harry isn't naïve. He knows he'll be plagued by those memories for the rest of his life. His past will never leave him. It will never let him live in peace, secluded from his inner demons.

'You were alone all those years...and now you're alone again." How does it know about those years? He's only ever talked to Sam and Dean, and they both know so little about what really happened.

Harry tenses inwardly at the words, but he remains emotionless on the outside. The smug words spoken by the overly cocky demon cannot be true — he isn't alone. Not anymore.

He isn't.

Any second now, the door will burst in and he will be rescued. Dean would never leave him alone with a demon. Dean's a Hunter — he saves people.

But the door stays shut — sealed from the inside.

He is alone.

Again.

A small boy opens his eyes in a panic, his breathing heavy and erratic in the stillness of the motel room. The overwhelming darkness laps at his eyes, nearly sending him into an attack. His eyes adjust slightly to the poor lighting in the room and he immediately turns his attention to the other bed, where both Dean and Sam should lay.

Neither are there. The bed is a mess — its covers are thrown over the side of the bed and the two pillows lay askew. The two Winchester boys are very noticeably gone.

His mind tries desperately to rationalize what was going on — it hasn't been long since they rescued him from Calem and allowed him to travel with them for awhile. It was a temporary arrangement from the start.

Harry knows though; their arrangement has expired and they left him.

His hands tremble and he wants to curse his body for its lack of strength and the tremendous amount of instability it seems to contain. Abandonment seeps into his bones, but he doesn't cry. He can't. He's too old to be crying just because someone left. He should know by now anyway.

Everyone always leaves him.

Always.

My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
'Til then I walk alone

(Boulevard of Broken Dreams ~ Green Day)

This is a short little snippet for you. The sequel (if I get around to writing it) would start earlier than this and be around 15 chapters in length (subject to change). Right now, I'm concentrating on my other story, but I'm going to try to get to this one. I really, really want to continue this, but I find myself lacking both time and inspiration right now.

Chao. Review.