The Inevitable End || Supernatural & Harry Styles

Chapter 4

Dean's expression turned sour as he acknowledged Harry's words. He wanted to talk? Now? About what? He said nothing as his eyebrows raised and his posture became rigid. Sam watched the interaction between the two of them, clearing his throat. The air felt heavy, and it felt as though Harry was holding his breath.

His chest quickly fell and rose as he held back the need to scoff. "Last time I checked, you weren't in the mood for talking."

"Yeah, well, now I am. Consider yourself lucky." Harry said. He leaned closer to the table, his open palm landing on the back of Dean's chair. Dean scoffed, a deep chuckle resonating from the back of his throat.

"Lucky? Buddy, we don't need you."

"You do need me," Harry insisted. "If you're interested in solving this case, that is. No? Then I'll just leave you two to it."

"Wait!" Sam exclaimed. "Why don't you sit down and tell us what you know."

"I'd love to but first you'll have to do something for me." Harry said, a smirk tugging at the end of his lips. Dean wanted to punch his smirk away. He smiled at the image, mouthing the word, yes.

"Of course, I wouldn't expect anything less. What is it that you want?" Dean asked. Even as he was asking, he knew he didn't want to hear anything else come out from Harry's mouth. And yet, a small part of him wanted to know what Harry wanted.

"It's just a small thing," Harry said simply, shrugging his shoulders. "Give me the files you stole. They are my files, after all." His lips pulled back into a fleeting grin, his eyes darting to look at the files that sat before Dean.

"No, absolutely not--" Dean began as Sam interrupted.

"Deal," Sam said, never looking away from Harry. He ground his teeth; he never enjoyed having to compromise. He much preferred to be the one in control but sometimes compromise was necessary. It was something his brother still couldn't understand. "Dean, give him the papers."

"Seriously, Sam? This is our only lead."

"Lead to what? The files are irrelevant. You said it yourself, there's nothing important in them." Harry said. He sounded cool and sure of himself as if there was in fact nothing in the files. But Dean's gut told him otherwise. He wanted to solve the case, but not with his help.

Dean reluctantly handed the files over to Harry, who gladly snatched them up. "Alright," he said, pulling back a chair. He dropped down into it and faced Sam. "Down to business. I think I know who killed that man."

"You don't hold back," Dean muttered. He crossed his arms over his chest, feeling as if the entire conversation was a waste of his time. Sam was a fool to think that Harry could be of help to them. They had solved plenty of cases on their own, without the annoying interference of outsiders.

Harry's lips grew into a thin line. "I didn't think now was a time for playing games."

"Okay, who do you think it is?" Sam asked, wanting for the conversation to move around and for the two of them to stop snapping back at each other. He stared at them as Harry unbuttoned his coat and took it off.

"A cult." He simply replied.

"You mean the guys you've been hanging out with?" Dean quickly asked. He watched as Harry's expression stayed neutral and crossed his legs, waving his hands as if dismissing Dean's words.

"No, they're fine. There's a different group of people in Prescott. I've been looking into them. I could take you to them and you can decide for yourself," he said. Dean stared at him, trying to decide if what he was saying was true or simply a load of crap.

"Why all this camaraderie, all of a sudden?" Dean asked suspiciously.

"Because, I wanted my files. And that man that died, he was my friend," he said quietly. He paused for a second, before clearing his throat. "Neither of us will get very far in this case if we don't help each other out. So, when do we leave?"

(--)

Dean threw his clothes into his bag rather roughly, catching Sam's attention. He scoffed, putting some clothes in his own suitcase. He shut the suitcase, zipping it closed as Dean grabbed a few more items and rolled them into a ball.

Sam put his suitcase beside the bed. "What is your problem, man? Is it the fact that there's a third person in on this case or is it that he just knows more than you do?"

"I'm telling you, Sam, there's something off about him. I don't trust him." Dean said. Sam eyed him, he had to trust someone. And if Harry was bad as he claimed, then why was he helping them? It made no sense.

"I'm telling you, Dean, you're being paranoid. Not everybody is out to get us, you know." Sam said. He shrugged his jacket on, walking towards the hotel door. He grabbed the keys from the table and walked out. After a moment, Dean followed.

"I trust you to have my back out there, no one else. I'm not new to this scene, Sam. I'll go along with this for now, but don't expect to put my life in his hands." Dean replied. They put their bags in the trunk of the impala and made their way to the their seats.

"That's not what I'm asking of you." He said, as he opened the passenger door and slammed the door. Dean closed his eyes at the sound and said nothing of it.

"Well, good." He said, as he opened the driver's side and gently closed the door.

"Good." He said, as Dean turned the ignition on and drove out of the parking lot.

They met up with Harry at the town square. Few people were out in the dreary cold, so they found themselves mostly alone. They pulled up next to Harry, who was standing under a lamp post, not looking a bit bothered by the cold. He took his sunglasses off and raised them to the top of his head.

"You're all ready, then?" Harry asked, opening the back door to the car. Dean watched him as he shoved his bag at the back of the trunk and took a seat. He looked away, towards the street.

Dean looked ahead, a grim expression on his face. "All ready."