I'm Alive!

"I have done something that I might come to regret."

Sam and Dean glanced at each other, brows raised.

Castiel sat hunched over in a chair, elbows on his knees and fingers laced together in front of him. He hadn't looked up at them once since appearing in the motel room in the middle of their late night research session. He certainly looked perturbed. He had creases on his forehead and his voice had dropped even lower than usual. He kept getting lost in his thoughts, which made him trail off with his sentences.

"Look," Dean said with an abrupt sigh. "Either tell us or go sulk someplace else."

The angel finally lifted his head, only to glare at the brothers. "Let me think," he growled.

Sam threw his hands up in defeat and decided to return to his laptop. Dean just scoffed at Castiel's audacity to interrupt their work and then order them to butt out of his business. "Entitled brat," he muttered under his breath.

Castiel knew he was in trouble the moment he had intervened with the Reaper. He hadn't realized the full extent of that trouble until… well… now. Yes, he had brought Dean and Sam back to life a handful of times, but they were different. They were instrumental in the inner workings of shifting dynamics between angels and demons. The Winchester brothers were exceptions.

Harry Potter had to be an exception too.

"I interfered with Death's work."

Sam froze while Dean didn't look the least bit surprised. "So?"

Castiel let out a slow breath before shaking his head. "It was not my place to interfere. And yet…" He trailed off again.

"You've helped us out a bunch of times," Sam reminded him carefully.

"For the greater good."

"Okay then…" Dean tapped his shoe to fill some of the silence in the room. Could Castiel really be in a bind right now? Was this a big deal?

Castiel stood up, sliding his hands into his pockets. He was expecting a visit from Death any time now. "His soul was reaped. But I pulled him back to life." He cleared his dry throat. "He was supposed to die."

When Harry woke up again after his harrowing experience with the most awful nightmares he had ever had, he found his best friends, Ron and Hermione, on either side of him. He stared at their blurry faces for some time to figure out the situation, and then his eyes lit up. "I'm alive," he croaked.

"Yeah, mate." Ron squeezed his hand tight. "You scared us for a bit though. Don't do that again, alright?"

"What happened?"

They explained the circumstances in light detail. He had been caught in a wand fight between his Auror team and fleeing Death Eaters. He had suffered multiple broken bones, which were easy enough to fix, and a head injury, which hadn't been so easy to fix. But things were looking up now.

"Was anyone else hurt?"

"Not as bad as you." Hermione patted his arm. "Don't think about that. Think about getting better."

"Okay." He would gladly think about getting better. "I thought I was going to die. So this feels great."

"I don't doubt it," Ron scoffed. "You're on more pain potions than an elephant can handle."

"Oh… That must be it. Yeah." He scratched his itchy head over the bandages.

"Your hair keeps growing back even after the nurse cuts it short. Fifth time already."

He laughed in disbelief. "Really? That hasn't happened in forever."

He had a flood of visitors that day and he was glad for that. He wanted to get an eyeful of everyone while actually being able to touch them. Molly hugged him as tight as she dared, not saying a thing the whole time. He was glad to see her ecstatic smile and feel her fussing fingers on his bandages. Teddy had clambered right up in bed despite Andromeda's tsks, and he had refused to leave even after a whole hour. Harry didn't mind at all. He squeezed his godson in his arms over and over again. Arthur and Hermione were kind enough to bring over some books for him to read during his stay. He would need to go to rehabilitation therapy sessions to help with his motor skills that had been damaged by the head injury. Molly spoon-fed him her own homemade soup and he was still hooked up to an IV bag. He couldn't hold utensils or his wand, and he was definitely not ready to get out of bed yet. He was never one for all this attention, but if it made his friends and family happy, he would gladly sit still and let them fawn over him. It was the least he could do after worrying them half to death.

Castiel watched all this, hidden from mortal sight but still plainly in the room. He had brought so much joy to these people. Was that wrong?

He turned away and bowed his head.

Death stood before him, his weathered face set in a grim expression. His dark suit hung on his almost skeletal frame, giving him a sharp appearance that complimented his sharp nose and chin. He scraped his black cane across the floor of the hospital room absently, prompting the subdued angel to look up. Once their eyes met, Death tilted his head. "Have you had sufficient time to find an excuse?" he asked. His words were mocking and his tone bored, but his sunken gaze pierced Castiel, almost eager.

"I have no excuse…"

"Hmm." He was slightly disappointed. "You do not want to defend him now?" He laughed drily. "You were fierce with my Reaper. Where has that fierceness gone?"

Castiel glanced at the bed where Harry was laughing at Teddy's excited stories about all that he had missed over the past week. Ron and Hermione were trying to beat Teddy's tales with some of their own. Molly and Andromeda were sitting on the couch, speaking quietly amongst themselves. All that silence from before had fled now to make room for chattering and bickering.

"If you had not interfered," Death murmured, "he would have died."

"Yes," Castiel understood.

"Why did you wish to watch him die, Castiel?"

The angel had wondered this for many days now. He did not know what had compelled him to walk into this hospital room that Monday afternoon. But he knew what had compelled him to keep coming. There was something about Harry Potter. "Morbid curiosity?" he guessed weakly.

"Did you know that this man is the Master of Death?"

Astonished, Castiel turned to Death again. "You cannot believe that," he mumbled, his eyes quickly studying the ancient face for an answer. "It is just a legend."

Death smiled wanly. "You are right. It's just a story. The three Deathly Hallows are hardly enough to defeat me."

"… Then I don't understand."

"But wouldn't such a story pique your interest?"

Castiel straightened as he realized what Death was hinting at. "You were simply testing him… Was this a test?"

"Yes."

"Then you know that he is not the Master of Death."

Death rolled his eyes. "I did not manage to reap his soul," he reminded the angel begrudgingly.

"You could have," Castiel argued. "If I hadn't intervened, he would-"

"But you did intervene."

His words caught in his throat.

"You intervened," Death repeated himself. "Now I ask you… If I were to test this man again, would you intervene again?" He knew that, of all other angels, this one was different. This one was starting to care for mortals, ever since the Winchester brothers. This one was capable of great and terrible things. "What compelled you to stop me?"

Castiel blinked when Death vanished from his sight.

"Man, I missed you guys," Harry sighed as he hugged Teddy tight and beamed at his best friends. "I thought I wouldn't get to say goodbye."

"Shut up, Harry," Ron and Hermione retorted in unison.