Title: Never Gonna Give You Up 1/3

Author: theblackrose16

Beta: elsa_kallan

Artist: v_son_sayian

Summary: Sam has always believed in angels and nothing anyone has said has ever convinced him otherwise. Dean has always wondered how his brother could be so sure, to speak as though he knew beyond a doubt that there are good forces in the world, that angels do exist especially with all the crap that they've dealt with on a daily basis. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that Sam has a guardian angel he never told anyone about?

Genre: Semi AU | Slash

Pairings: Sam/Gabriel, hints of Dean/Castiel

Warnings: slash, references to child abuse/molestation, violence, character death, language, adult sexual situations, spoilers for season 1 through 5

Rating: PG-13, NC–17 for later on

Word Count: 9, 026 this part (23, 075 total)

Written For: sabriel_mini bang 2011 on livejournal.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

~XOX~

Part 1

"SAM?" Dean yelled, desperately searching for his brother. It was dark and all the buildings looked run down and were made of rotting wood. The town was completely abandoned, no surprise there. It gave him the creeps, which was saying something considering some of the things that he had come across as a hunter, and he just wanted to grab his baby brother and get the hell out of dodge, preferably somewhere on the other side of the country.

Sam turned from where Jake was lying sprawled on the ground where he'd been knocked down; to the direction in which the shout had come. Sam stumbled forward, exhausted as Bobby and Dean walked around the corner coming into view from the shadows of the buildings.

"Sam," Dean breathed in relief upon seeing his brother alive and relatively in one piece, he'd really been worried this time.

"Dean," Sam called out in answer, walking towards his brother, not noticing Jake getting up behind him and grabbing the knife from the mud where it had been knocked to during their fight just minutes before.

"Sam, look out," Dean yelled, seeing the threat but it was too late.

Jake grabbed Sam roughly by the shoulder with one hand and thrust the knife into his lower back near his spine with the other, not hesitating in the slightest. Dean and Bobby ran as fast as they could to try and stop him even though they already knew it would be futile.

"NO!" Dean's scream contained disbelief and blind panic.

Sam groaned as he dropped heavily to his knees in the mud, his body quickly beginning to shut down. He could feel the cold fingers of death already creeping up on him.

Dean fell to his knees in front of Sam, clutching desperately at him by the lapels of his favourite, hisonly, light brown jacket as Bobby chased after Jake holding his rifle upon seeing Dean had a hold of Sam.

"Sam, whoa, Sam, hey," Dean murmured to his younger brother, attempting to be comforting and soothing.

Thunder rumbled across the dark, cloudy sky ominously.

"Come here, come here. Let me look at you," Dean spoke, patting his right hand along his brother's back searching for the damage done by the knife while holding him up with his left. He pulled his hand away and looked down feeling something wet on it. His hand was covered in so much blood. Dean leaned back slightly to look at Sam's face as he spoke pleadingly.

"Hey, look at me. It's not that bad. It's not even that bad, alright? Sammy? Sam? Listen to me. We're gonna patch you up," Dean rambled, panicking, not sure of who he was trying to reassure, himself or his younger brother.

Sam's eyes rolled back, fluttering, his head lolling back and forth like a giant rag doll since he didn't have the strength to hold it up anymore. Dean's face was swimming in and out of focus before his eyes.

"You're gonna be good as new. Sam! I'm gonna take care of you. That's my job. Watch over my pain in the ass little brother. Sam! Sam?... Sam?... Sammy?" Dean shouted, his voice increasing in volume with each shout, patting Sam's face in the hopes of getting a response, any response.

Sam was barely conscious, hanging on by a very thin and frayed thread.

People say that when you're dying, your life supposedly flashes before your eyes. For Sam though, his last thought was that for the first time in his life, something was missing, something big. He felt alone and cold as death came to claim him. The warmth and safety he had become so accustomed to feeling, especially when he was in any kind of danger, was completely and utterly absent.

It had always been there for as long as he could remember. The first time he could clearly recall something unusual happening, he had been roughly four years old. Sam remembered that for some reason or another his dad and Dean had not been there.

Most likely, Dean and Dad had put him to bed in their motel room and gone on to hunt whatever it was that had brought them to that town. Whatever the reason, he remembered waking up alone. Then being afraid, so terribly afraid but Sam can recall he hadn't cried because big boys weren't supposed to cry. The next thing Sam can remember is a feeling of warmth and being safe, surrounded by light.

Later, when he had been a bit older and had asked his brother if he remembered the hunt and what had happened, Dean had told him that there had been a vengeful spirit preying on children. Dean had gone with their dad to act as bait but it had never showed. Somehow though, the thing had been stopped and put to rest but not by them. Dean and Dad were both clueless as to what had happened although Dad thought that maybe another hunter might have taken care of the problem.

After that, anytime he could remember feeling alone or scared, a sense of warmth and safety would wrap around him.

The next significant event he could remember was when he was six years old. Sam had been separated from his dad and Dean when they had been walking back to the motel that night. It had been one of the rare evenings that Dad had taken them out for ice cream. He couldn't remember what it was that had attacked them but he did remember that someone had saved him even though, try as he might he couldn't remember his rescuer's face..

Sam was yanked into a dark alley as he ran in the direction of their motel, trying to get away from the monsters chasing him down the street badly lit street. They threw him further into the alley and he backed up until he hit the cold, brick wall behind him. A dead end and now he had nowhere else to run to. He was trapped. He closed his eyes tightly, terrified but then he heard another voice.

"What do you chuckleheads think you're doing?"

Sam peeked through his eyelashes hesitantly to see a figure of a man standing between him and the monsters. He cried out as the monsters raced forward and killed the man. His body falling backwards, taking Sam to the ground as well, his little body hidden underneath his body.

His little body shaking with terror, Sam slowly opened his eyes and was stunned to find caramel eyes sparkling with humour staring right back at him.

"How come you aren't dead?" Sam whispered, utterly confused and a small frown marring his forehead.

The man above him winked, leaned forward and whispered in his ear, his breath tickling him slightly.

"It's a kind of magic."

Suddenly, the man was standing up and by the time Sam was on his own feet, the monsters were dead and he was once again clean and tidy with none of the scratches or dirt that he had gained during his hasty flight to outrun the monsters.

Sam cautiously made his way over to his rescuer, after all, Dad and Dea had told him to stay away from people that he didn't know but the man had saved him. He had brown hair and was holding two red lollipops in his one hand. He squatted down in front of Sam as he eyed the stranger warily.

"Here you are, kiddo," the man said, offering one of the lollipops to him.

Tentatively, Sam reached out and took it before shyly smiling up at the man.

"SAM?" he heard his dad shout.

"Here, Dad," Sam called out.

"I gotta go, kiddo," the man said and with the snap of his fingers he disappeared.

As time went on, Sam forgot what the man's face had looked like but he didn't forget his rescuer. At school, he learnt about angels. Out of all of the angels, Gabriel was Sam's favourite. He didn't want to bother Gabriel with his problems though. Sam was sure that the archangel had better things to do than listen to a child but he did pray to Gabriel everyday, just to tell him about his day and thank him for the man who had been sent to save him. Sam didn't have any friends beside Dean since they moved around so often, so he enjoyed telling Gabriel about his day even if he never expected the angel to respond.

The next time Sam remembered seeing his rescuer, he was about ten. His Dad, Dean and hewere inNevada at the time. They had been there for two days when it happened.

Dean was going to kill him was his utmost thought. His brother had told him not to leave the motel room but had he listened? No, he just had to have his jelly beans. Dad had left to go and hunt and Dean was down in the game room playing pool. Sam had been sitting in the room by himself reading one of his favourite books that Dean had gotten him when the need for jelly beans came over him. Ignoring both Dad and Dean's warnings, he had walked down the road to the corner shop to get his sweets.

A howl from close by had Sam practically running to get back to his room. He tripped over his own feet and landed on the ground. As he pushed himself up, Sam's attention was caught. Crap! It was a full moon which meant that a werewolf was probably after him. It fit the description of what their dad was hunting. The moon shone above him in full view now. It seemed almost as if it was laughing at him, mocking him for his stupidity. Just then another howl sounded, this time from right behind him along with the thumping of galloping foot steps.

A heavy weight and sharp claws slammed into his back, sending him face first into the ground, claws ripping into his back through his denim jacket, ripping a scream from his throat.

Just as suddenly as the attack happened, it was over. The weight on his back was flung off of him and then there were several growls and yelps followed then by silence.

Gentle hands ran along his back, taking the pain away with them. When they reached his shoulders, the hands carefully turned him over. Sam rolled over with the help, curious to see who had rescued him from being a wolf snack. The man's face was obscured by shadows making him unrecognisable though.

"You just can't stay out of trouble can you, kiddo?" Sam blinked as he recognised that voice instantly.

"It's you," he breathed.

"Come on, we gotta get you back before your big brother freaks," the man informed him before snapping his fingers.

A moment later, Sam was sitting on his bed in the motel room and his rescuer was nowhere in sight. It was a good thing he was sitting since he probably would have fallen over.

On shaky legs, Sam made his way cautiously to the bathroom and over to the mirror. There wasn't even a smudge of dirt on him. Sam was 100% sure that that werewolf had taken several chunks out of his back but when he shed his jacket and shirt, which no longer had any holes in he absently noticed, he stared at his reflection with a slack jaw. Not a single scratch was visible. There weren't any scars. Nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada.

Sam shook his head dazed, stripped out of his jeans and walked under the somewhat warm sprays of the shower. Though he looked clean, Sam still felt dirty, like the mud and blood was still all there, just invisible. Once he was sure he was clean and smelled of soap, Sam simply stood under the somewhat warm water, closed his eyes and prayed.

'Thank you. Thank you, Gabriel for sending me my own guardian angel. He saved me again tonight. Thank you that even though you must be so busy, you still looked out for me.'

"Sammy?" Dean's call broke Sam out of his thoughts as Dean shut the door to their motel room.

"In the shower. Be out in a minute," he replied loudly to be heard through the door.

Sam continued to speak to Gabriel everyday, the conversations always one sided, but it was another three years before he saw his mystery guardian angel again. Dean had started hunting with their Dad, tagging along on at least on the easier hunts. They had been inNebraskaat the time; hunting what Dad had been sure was a poltergeist. Sam had gone to the town library to get out of their motel room for a while. He had been feeling restless and just wanted some space ad a change of scenery.

Sam glanced up from the book he was reading when he heard a noise.

"Is someone there?" he called out to the supposedly empty room, the librarian had stepped outside for a smoke.

Shrugging absently when he heard nothing in response, Sam went back to reading his book. Without any warning, all the lights flickered and then went out and he was suddenly slammed by an invisible force into the wall behind him. He groaned out loud when his back hit the wall hard.

"Who's there?" he called out again into the darkness of the room, "What'd you want?"

A laugh echoed through the room making the hairs on Sam's arms stand up. It sounded eerie with a mocking edge to it.

Sam looked around the room, desperate to see who had him pinned. Suddenly, it felt as though he was being stabbed in the chest with several sharp hunting knives simultaneously. He threw back his head and screamed in pain.

Out of nowhere, Sam regained control of his body, the pain immediately stopped and he fell to the ground in a heap of limbs.

Panting, Sam glanced up. Standing in the shadows with his arm outstretched towards his direction, Sam could make out the figure of a man. There was a shriek as the poltergeist was forced to take form and then disappearedas though it hadexploded, similar to a salt and burn.

The poltergeist gone, the figure slowly made its way over to him. An outstretched hand helped Sam to his feet.

"What are you?" Sam whispered.

The figure tilted its head even though Sam couldn't make out his features in the darkness of the room.

"Does it matter, kiddo?"

"I'm not a kid. I'm thirteen," Sam objected.

The man looked him up and down. Even though Sam couldn't see him, he could tell that the stranger was amused by his objections to be called a kid.

"You may be getting taller and taller every time I see you, kiddo but you're still young to me. Time to go, toodles," the man said, raising a hand to snap his fingers.

Recognising the gesture, Sam reached out to grab him before he could once again disappear, "Wait," but it was too late.

With a snap of his fingers, the man was gone in an instant and the lights flickered back on. The library looked the same as it had before the lights had gone out but Sam no longer felt like hanging around.

Gathering his stuff and stuffing them into his backpack, Sam hastily made his way back to the mote where they were currently stayingl.

A few minutes after he go to the room, Dean with Dad right behind him, came back.

"Did you find it?" Sam asked with his back to them, struggling to keep his emotions in check.

"No. We'll stick around for a while but if it doesn't show then we'll move on," Dad spoke gruffly.

Sam nodded. He knew that he should say something to Dad or at the very least Dean, but he didn't know how to start. Whoever or whatever had saved him obviously was very powerful and would be more than a match for Dean and Dad should they go after him. There was also the fact that despite his protector not being human, he hadn't done anything wrong. In fact, he had done just the opposite, protecting and healing him when he'd been in danger. Dad would want to hunt him down regardless, so for now, he wouldn't say anything to anyone.

When he was fifteen, their Dad dropped him and Dean at some motel inMiami, enrolled Sam in the local high school and then disappeared for a number of weeks on a hunt "off the grid". He and Dean lived in the motel with Dean looking after him and working odd jobs at the local mechanic since he was now nineteen and had finished school.

Sam had been at his new high school for two weeks now. He loved school and knew Dean would call him a dork for saying so, but that didn't change the truth that Sam really enjoyed being able to go to school and learn. The school's football coach had approached him a couple of times about joining the team but Sam wasn't much of a sporty person despite all the training that Dad put him and Dean through. They'd be moving soon anyway and the coach gave Sam a bad feeling. He couldn't explain why, maybe he was becoming paranoid these days but he avoided the coach whenever it was possible.

Over the next week, Sam constantly felt as though he was being watched when he was at school or walking around town. It was a slightly creepy feeling, like eyes at the back of his neck. Whenever he looked around, the football coach seemed to be around nearby giving Sam an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

On Friday for last period, Sam's class had played a game of dodge ball for P.E. Having been trained to be a hunter by his dad, ex-marine extraordinaire, the game was a lot of fun, with him coming out as the last man standing. Sam preferred to shower last as it helped avoid all the questions he got about the scars he had from various hunting accidents. He didn't like making up lies, they got difficult to remember and someone always asked what had happened to him.

The locker rooms were quiet and deserted, though Sam could hear the chatter of students coming from outside as everyone said their final goodbyes before splitting up for the weekend. Sam made his way to his locker with only a white, fluffy towel wrapped around his waist, for the first time not noticing the beady eyes following his every movement.

Sam dressed quickly and efficiently, missing the figure of the football coach creeping up behind him as he pulled his black shirt over his head. His hair was wet, the occasional drop falling in his eyes and Sam ran his fingers through it in a vain attempt of getting it to behave somewhat.

A voice echoed through Sam's mind, startling him as the customary warmth wrapped around him.

Move. Now. Get out of the locker room and don't look back.

Sam didn't even question his automatic compliance with the order. His protector had never steered him wrong before and Dad had gotten him and Dean so used to following orders in that tone of voice that conveyed that they were in danger and would tolerate no nonsense. He pulled his dark blue hoodie down with one hand, grabbed his bag sitting at his feet with the other and tore out the locker room.

He didn't see a man with brown hair appear where he had previously been standing, directly in the football coach's path. He didn't see the hard, cold eyes that stared at the coach as if see right through to his soul. He didn't hear the man speak in a voice that was terrifying enough to make even the strongest man begin to weep and plead for his life, it was so full of power and rage.

"You were dead the moment you thought to touch him," the man uttered quietly and calmly, which was in direct contradiction with the fury vibrating from him.

The football coached backed up against the red lockers as the menacing figure advanced on him. Sam didn't see the coach die but when he got to school the next day, he heard about it.

Everyone was whispering. Girls and boys huddled in groups in the hallways. No one raised their voice, yet the entire school was abuzz.

"I heard that they found him in the boys' locker room."

"Did you hear?"

"Coach White is dead."

"I heard he killed himself."

"Why would he kill himself?"

"I overheard the secretaries talking. Apparently, the school was beginning an investigation into Coach White."

"What? Why?"

"Terry said that he was behaving inappropriately with some of the guys on the team."

"I'd say it's more than inappropriate. He was touching them. Kerry even said she overheard Mrs Kruger say that Coach White had nearly raped one of the guys on the team."

Hearing the whispers, Sam went cold, icy cold. His stomach dropped and his heart missed a beat as he froze on the spot. The coach had been watchinghim. His weird, beady eyes following Sam everywhere he went. It had never crossed his mind that that was whatwasbehind the looks he had been receiving. Feeling shaky and unsteady on his feet at his sudden realisation, Sam made his way over to a bench and sat down. He rubbed his hands over his face and prayed.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. That could have been me. I could have been the one that the Coach hurt. Thank you whoever you are for getting me out of there."

He had come far too close to becoming another one of the coach's victims.

When he got home to the motel where they were staying that day, he put up with Dean's fussing and mother-henning. His brother had heard about what had happened from the gossip around town and had been waiting for Sam after school, incredibly worried and tense. He was extremely thankful to his stranger that he could reassure his brother. Sam was exactly the coach's type. He never told Dean how close he had come though. Instead, he took several somewhat hot showers, scrubbing until his skin was almost raw. Nothing had actually happened but he felt dirty.

The next time Sam heard the voice of his protector, he was seventeen. It was two years after the thing with the football coach. Dean and his Dad had been researching their latest hunt when Sam got a sudden craving for gummi bears.

Sam looked up from the book he was reading on his bed.

"Dad, I'm gonna go to the shop."

John looked up from the table where he was reading his book on skin-walkers to glance at his youngest son.

"Alright, son."

"You getting sweets again, Sammy? Careful or you're gone get fat, you girl," Dean teased, sitting opposite John.

"Jerk," Sam snapped, walking to the motel door.

"Bitch," was Dean's immediate response.

Their father merely rolled his eyes at their actions.

Sam made his way to the shop but when he was standing on the opposite side of the street, he was filled with this feeling of dread. It was confirmed when he once again heard someone whisper in his mind.

Not that one. Go to the one two streets down

The young brunette bit his lower lip in thought. It wouldtake longer but after all this time he would trust his faceless protector.

Half an hour later, Sam returned to the motel, a slightly thoughtful frown marring his face.

"Hey what took you so long?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. He couldn't very well tell Dean and Dad that the voices in his head told him to go to another shop.

"I…uh… I took a um slow stroll."

Dean nodded and went back to polishing his gun as Sam flopped down, face first onto his bed.

The next morning when their Dad brought them breakfast, Sam noticed him look at him strangely.

"Dad, what is it? Did I forget something?"

"No, Sam. It's just that the corner store was robbed by three guys carrying shotguns yesterday."

Sam paled. That explained the feeling he had gotten and why he'd been told to avoid the shop. Another close call averted thanks to his invisible guardian.

"You're lucky, bro," Dean said quietly, patting Sam on the shoulder.

Sam nodded, unable to find his voice at that moment even if his life depended on it. Instead, he nibbled on a slice of buttered toast, his appetite gone with news his dad had brought.

Not many people can say that their lives have had defining moment that they can put their finger on. The same could not be said for Sam. He remembered his own personal catalyst, the day he decided to leave his old life behind and strike out on his own. Some might call it running away but Sam preferred to think of it as strategically readjusting his position in the world. And if it happened to put a significant distance between him and his family, landing him on the other side of the country, well then, all the better.

The day started out as all days did. Dad was gone by the time he woke. Dean had his face buried in his pillow, snoring like a buzz saw. And Sam was hungry. They had arrived in town two days prior. Dad still wasn't sure what exactly they were after but something was killing the young men of the town.

Sam groaned, rolled out of bed and grabbed one of the pillows. He took a step forward and then hit his brother over the head with the pillow. Startled, Dean shot up, grabbed his knife and glanced around wildly looking for thethreat. Seeing his brother grinning sleepily at him, he swore.

"Dude! What the fuck?"

"Dude, breakfast."

Dean grumbled under his breath as he stumbled into the bathroom. Sam chuckled quietly as he sat down at the small table by the window to eat the breakfast that Dad had left for the two of them before he had headed out.

Once they were both showered and had eaten, Sam picked up his knapsack from the foot of his bed and slung it over his shoulder.

"Dean, I'm gonna head to the library. See if I can't figure out what we're looking for."

"Sure, geek boy," Dean waved him off, absorbed in whatever it was that he was looking at on the laptop.

Hours later, Sam rubbed his tired eyes. He was sitting at one of the back tables in the library with a pile of books on either side of him. It looked like they were hunting something called a wendigo but there was very little information on them in any of the books and what little he could find wasn't very helpful. The lore in the books all disagreed with each other on how to kill a wendigo which was just perfect.

Sighing, Sam stood up and began to pack up. Maybe Dad would have a better idea or he or someone else had run across a wendigo before.

"Hi, do you need some help?" a woman asked from behind him.

Sam turned around quickly.

"Hi, um… I was just going to pack up."

The woman was about 5'5", had long black hair and glasses. She was dressed in blue jeans and a red tank top.

"Well, then maybe I could help put them away," she offered.

"Thanks," Sam gave her a smile in gratitude.

Each carrying a pile of books, the pair walked to the shelves to return the books.

"So I haven't seen you around here," the girl started.

Sam bit his lip, thinking of an answer.

"I'm on a road trip with my father and brother. We just stopped here for a while."

They walked to the entrance to the library.

"I'm Natalie by the way. It was nice meeting you," she stuck out her hand to shake.

"Sam, it was nice meeting you too," he shook her hand and slowly made his way back to the motel.

This was getting ridiculous. Dean had been teasing him already for his lack of girlfriends in whatever town they were in. The truth was that he just didn't have any interest in anyone whether they were female or even male and yes he had considered guys when he had realised his lack of interest in the girls around him.

Sam was afraid to look too closely as to why he had no interest in anyone. It would force him to acknowledge things he would rather not so he shoved them out his mind and focused on other thing, remaining oblivious to the attention other people gave him.

Now was a perfect example. A cute girl had come over and spoken to him, flirting and offering to help and he hadn't even thought, not for one second about trying to get her number let alone ask her out. No. It was better if he just ignored it.

That night, John. Dean and Sam headed for the forest on the outskirts of town. Dad had agreed with Sam that it was probably a wendigo. They liked to hang around in the forest and they could be killed with silver bullets and then you had to set the body on fire. Which was just great, nothing like a monster barbeque to end the day.

They split up, each moving in a different direction in hopes of finding the wendigo faster before it killed someone else.

Sam walked around a clump of trees and saw a figure standing ahead of him. Getting closer he noticed that he figure was naked and then he saw it's face.

"Natalie?" he was shocked.

"Hello, Sam," she greeted him, an evil little smirk playing around the corners of her mouth.

Leaves and twigs crunched under her feet as she walked towards him. The pale light from the moon was barley enough for Sam to make out her features which appeared to be rapidly changing.

"Thank you for coming to find me. It makes killing you so much easier. Now I don't have to hunt you down."

"What?"

Suddenly, she shifted completely and lunged forward. Sam fired his gun loaded with silver bullets at her. When that didn't slow her down, he turned and ran; sure that Dean or Dad would have heard the shots and would come investigate. Looked like silver bullets didn't work on her.

Dean appeared form behind a tree in front of Sam.

"Dean the bullets don't work!" he shouted a warning to his brother.

Dean shifted the gun in his hand, pulled out a flare, lit it and with deadly accuracy threw it at the wendigo pursuing his baby brother.

Sam stopped next to his brother, panting slightly. Their dad came barrelling through the trees.

"Everyone ok?"

"Yeah, Dad. Sammy here played bait while I fried the thing," Dean quipped.

John shook his head at his boys.

Later that night while Dean was in the shower and Dad had gone to grab a late night snack, Sam sat on his bed in the motel. The only light coming from the street lamp outside and the sliver peering out from under the bathroom door.

"Glad to see you're okay, kiddo," a voice spoke softly from the shadows.

Sam's head shot up, glancing around searchingly but he was only able to make out a vague shape in the shadows in the corner.

"What are you doing here?" the young brunette asked confused.

"Just wanted to check that you were alright after facing that wendigo tonight."

"I'm okay, didn't even have a chance to catch me," he reassured his invisible protector.

"Get some sleep, Sammy," the figure said gently before snapping and disappearing as suddenly as he had appeared.

Sam reached over and put his bed side light on. He stood and stretched when his gaze fell upon Dad's journal lying open on the table. Curious, the tall, young man ambled over to see what page was open.

Sam read the page and froze.

The Wendigo (also known as Windigo, Weendigo, Windago, Windiga, Witiko, Wihtikow, and numerous other variants) is a mythical creature appearing in the mythology of the Algonquian people. It is a malevolent cannibalistic spirit into which humans could transform, or which could possess humans. Those who indulged in cannibalism were at particular risk, and the legend appears to have reinforced this practice as a taboo. The Wendigo targets young people that are in love. It will bypass other easier targets to hunt a person in love.

Sam felt numb. The last two lines echoing through his mind.

"The Wendigo targets young people that are in love. It will bypass other easier targets to hunt a person in love."

All the feelings he had tried again and again to ignore and force away came rushing back. He was in love. He was in love with a man he had never actually seen before. Sam laughed hysterically. He was in love with a man he had never seen before that wasn't even human.

He had no idea how his Dad and Dean were going to react to the fact that he was in love with a man but he knew how they'd react to the non-human part. They'd insist he was under some sort of spell, be pissed that he had never told them about his guardian before and then hunt him down and kill him.

Sam couldn't accept that. He was terrified of their reactions. Grabbing an envelope from the bottom of his bag he made his decision. In the envelope was an acceptance letter from Stanford for a full ride. He wanted out of hunting, couldn't accept that he was in love with a man and even worse a man who wasn't even human. He had to get away. Maybe his guardian wouldn't find him at Stanford. It was a useless hope but it made Sam feel better to think that he might be able to get completely away from everything.

Hearing the bathroom door and then the front door open and close, Sam took a deep breath and braced himself to confront his Dad and Dean.

He had been at Stanford for about a month before he had met his now best friend, aside from Dean that was. Her name was Jessica Moore. They had English together among a few other classes. One day she had sat down beside him and declared that they would be best friends, and that was that. Jess was blonde and tiny compared to Sam but the two of them became inseparable. Everyone thought that they were dating. After a while they got tired of correcting everyone and just gave up.

Jess had told Sam early on in their relationship that she was bi but she wanted to focus on her studies at the moment. She never pushed or pried at why Sam next to never talked about his family or about the fact that after four months Sam had stopped dating all together. Sam got the feeling that she had her suspicions but she never pushed for any information. Something which Sam was eternally grateful for and made him value her friendship all the more. He had trouble sorting out how he felt never mind trying to explain it. Over time with Jess' help Sam slowly began to accept himself.

Sam had been at Stanford for three years before something even remotely unusual happened, at least unusual in his realm of weird possibilities. He and Jess were then living in a house off campus, had been since the beginning of their second year. It had been the day of Sam's twenty first birthday. Jess had had to go home for the weekend for her Gran's eightieth birthday. Sam had assured her that he would be fine on his own and that she should go and enjoy herself.

That evening, the first thing Sam did was head down to the liquor store to buy a six pack of beer and a bottle of tequila. He was twenty one and could legally drink now. Not that he hadn't before, but now it was legal. He had a huge project due during that week, but right now Sam was feeling sorry for himself. He sat on the sofa in the living room and was halfway through the bottle of tequila when he couldn't stay inside anymore.

Stumbling, Sam made his way over to one of the on campus gardens that the horticultural department were responsible for. The tall brunette found a bench under a tree and sat down, miserable.

He missed Dean. When Dean had turned twenty one, Dad had taken him out for a celebratory drink. Since then, Sam had been looking forward to celebrating and getting drunk with Dean on his own twenty first. It would have been so much fun bonding with Dean. Instead he was sitting in a garden on a bench under a tree all by himself, drunk on his twenty first birthday. He had drunk three ofhis beers and grabbed a fourth to drunkenly toast to himself.

"Happy Birthday to me," he toasted to no one, taking a large swallow.

Directly after swallowing, he heard a voice.

"Don't expect me to sing to you, Sasquatch and if you've finished all that beer without me, so help me, I'll…"

Despite being somewhat drunk off his ass, Sam would recognize that voice anywhere.

"You. Didn't think I'd see you again," his words slurring slightly.

The figure moved to stand in front of him. Sitting down, Sam was forced to look up, a very rare thing, to squint at his visitor. Suddenly, he had what he thought at the time was a brilliant idea.

"I wan' my bir'day kiss," he informed his guardian before his eyes drooped shut and he face planted into the other man's chest.

The man sighed, running gentle fingers through the long brunette locks.

"What am I going to do with you, kiddo?" he whispered, placing a soft kiss on Sam's forehead before snapping his fingers and taking Sam home.

The next morning Sam awoke with a vicious headache. Gingerly, he looked around and was surprised t find that he was in his own bed with absolutely no recollection of how he had ended up there. Sam squeezed his eyes shut as he desperately tried to remember.

His eyes shot open when he did causing him to wince when the light hurt his eyes. He had come last night. His faceless guardian. Vaguely Sam recalled lips pressed to his forehead in a gentle kiss and groaned.

This couldn't go on. He had been running for years and it hadn't done or changed a thing. Maybe it was time for him to face his problems. Sam groaned again. Maybe he could face his problems starting tomorrow. Right now he felt as if an entire circus was doing a tap dance routine in his head. With another groan, Sam buried his head under a pillow.

A year and a half later, Sam had made peace with himself. He had finally accepted that he was gay. Jess had been a huge help through it all. He hadn't told her all that much. Just that there had been someone back before he had come to Stanford. Sam accepted that he was in love with someone he had never really seen before and could never have. It hurt but he had learned to live with it. He also missed Dean and his Dad but especially Dean. Sam wanted to get his law degree to help his family out and then he wanted to go back to them. However, the best laid plans…

Sam jerked awake, glancing around his room, confused as to what had woken him. Cautiously he sat up in bed, becoming alert when he heard a crash. Carefully he made his way to the kitchen where the noise had originated. He crept forward when he saw a figure in the shadows and grabbed it from behind.

Immediately a fight broke out and moved in to the living room. It ended with Sam being slammed onto his back by his assailant.

"Easy tiger," the figure said, placing a hand on his chest.

Panting, Sam looked up in shock.

"Dean?"

His brother chuckled.

"You scared the crap out of me," Sam told him.

Dean cocked his head smugly.

"That's coz you're outta practice."

Sam wrapped a leg around his brother and flipped him over, reversing their positions, eliciting another chuckle from his older brother.

"Or not. Get off me."

Sam stood up, pulling Dean with him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sam asked, bewildered.

"I was looking for a beer," Dean quipped.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sam asked again, this time more serious.

Dean reached out and patted his younger brother.

"Okay, alright. We gotta talk," Dean informed him, his face shrouded in shadows as neither had switched the lights on and yet Sam could still read his brother perfectly.

"Uh…the phone?"

Dean was quick to respond.

"If I had called, would you have picked up?"

Sam had to concede there. He wanted to finish his degree before contacting his family or he might have been tempted to return to them without completing it.

Suddenly, the lights turned on, causing them all to blink as their eyes adjusted.

"Sam?" Jess asked hesitantly.

"Jess, hey," Sam greeted her, apologetic for waking her.

"Dean this is my best friend, Jessica."

Jess walked further into the room, "Wait, your brother, Dean?"

"I love the smurfs," Dean commented, pointing at the young woman's sleeping top.

"Just let me put something on," Jess said, slowly backing out the room.

Dean stepped forward.

"No, no, no. I wouldn't dream of it. Seriously. Anyway, I gotta borrow your friend here. Talk about some private family business. But uh… nice meeting you."

Sam got Dean's drift.

"Jess, we're just gonna go talk outside. Don't worry."

Sam grabbed a jacket by the front door as he and his brother headed outside.

"What's Dad done this time?" Sam asked exasperated.

"He went on a hunting trip and I haven't heard from him in a few days."

"He was alone? Where were you?" Sam asked as they reached the Impala.

"I was doing my own gig," Dean informed his little brother as he popped the Impala's trunk.

It was cold outside and as they talked, little puffs of breath could be seen escaping into the night.

"Dad let you hunt alone?" he asked his older brother surprised.

"I'm twenty six, dude," Dean informed his brother, insulted at the implication that he couldn't handle it alone.

"I dunno, Dean," Sam started unsure of how to tell his brother that he was afraid he would never come back if he let now.

"Dad's in trouble now, Sam. I haven't asked you for anything, haven't bothered you for nearly four years. You can't live some normal apple pie life," Dean told him.

Sam knew this but got angry at the idea that he couldn't have a normal life. Sure his brother was right, he had run just not for the reasons that Dean thought but that was beside the point.

"I was just going to college. Dad's the one that said if I left to never come back," Sam retorted.

"Well, Dad's in real trouble now if he's not dead already, I can feel it," Dean argued, completely serious.

Dean looked at the ground before looking back up.

"I can't do this alone. I don't want to."

Sam sighed deeply.

"What was he hunting?"

Dean turned back to the Impala's trunk and began to rummage around amongst the guns, amo and rock salt.

"Alright, here we go."

They ended up hunting a lady in white and finding Dad nowhere. The only link they did have was their Dad's journal that had been left behind with some co-ordinates. Sam insisted on returning to tell Jess that he was going with Dean to look for their Dad in person and he also wanted to pack up his stuff and put it in storage for now. Unfortunately things did not go as planned.

"Jess?" Sam called out as he walked inside, Dean right behind him. Further in the house the sound of the shower could be heard running.

"Jess?" Sam called again not wanting to scare her when she realized that there was someone else in the apartment.

Not hearing a reply, Sam walked towards his room intent on dropping off his bag when he froze at the sigh the before him.

A man with yellow eyes was standing in front of a clearly terrified Jess. She appeared to be held immobile as the creature slowly lifted her up the wall.

A shot rang out as Dean appeared behind Sam, firing at the thing holding Jess. Sam ran forward to grab her.

"Hello, Sammy. This is a surprise," the creature greeted him.

Sam was scared now. The thing knew his name and nothing Dean shot at him was working.

"Let's get outta here, Sammy," Dean shouted.

Sam agreed with his brother's sentiments whole heartedly. He grabbed Jess by the elbow and tugged her out of the room and down the hall as fast as possible, Dean hot on their heels.

The three ran for the Impala and as soon as Dean started the car, he swung out the parking lot and down the street.

"What was that?" Jess asked, shocked from the backseat.

Sam and Dean glanced at each other. They had a lot of explaining to do.

Jess took the news that demons, ghosts and all manner of other creatures existed rather well. The three of them had headed straight for Bobby's from Stanford. They spent two weeks there settling Jess in. She couldn't see herself returning to her old life, not with everything she now knew. So it had been decided that she would stay with Bobby, help with research while he trained her for the time being. She had four years of medical school under her belt already but with everything that had happened, was unsure if she wanted to continue to become a doctor or to become an advanced paramedic, but there would be time to decide later.

Sam and Dean spent the next two years hunting any number of monsters while searching for their Dad and hunting the thing that had killed their mother.

When Dean had been electrocuted, Sam had been desperate. He was reminded that while it seemed he had a permanent guardian angel the same could not be said for others. For the first time, Sam wished that he knew how to find or contact his invisible protector.

There were other hunts and incidents where he once again wished that he had help, like when Meg lured them out and had shadow hounds attack them and Dad. But then again things could have gone so much worse. They could have ended up trapped or have been unable to light the place up thereby chasing the shadows away. So maybe his protector was still around just not revealing himself. When Sam thought about it, it made sense. Dean and Dad would not just graciously accept help. They were far more likely to shoot the help as well as the demons. That would be an inconvenience. He knew it wouldn't kill his guardian but it would more than likely piss him off.

About a year in, Dean ended up in a coma and John made a deal trading his life for Dean's. Surprisingly, or not so much to Sam, he was relatively uninjured, just some cuts and bruises but he was used to getting a little extra luck and help by now. His only regret was that there hadn't been a way to ask for help with first Dean and then his Dad.

With Bobby and Jess's help, Dean and Sam continued hunting for the Yellow Eyed Demon. They came across other psychics, each with the same story as Sam with only slight variations. He and Dean were still flying blind so to speak when it came to what was going on.

It all led up to Sam being kidnapped from a diner and dumped, unconscious in Cold Oak along with four other psychics, two of which he had met before. Yellow Eyes appeared to Sam in a dream and told him that they were all there to have a knock-down, drag out fight to the death and only one of them would be getting out alive.

Sam had held out a hope that his guardian angel would sense just how much trouble he was in and lend a hand in some way, but that hope was quickly dashed when the demon laughingly informed him that there were wards that he had placed around the town that would only drop when there was just one psychic left alive in the town, nothing was getting through. He'd also been only too happy to tell Sam, or rather show Sam, how he had made him drink demon blood when he had been just six months old.

He and Jake had been the only ones left alive. Ava, it turned out, had gone over to the dark side a while ago and had taken out the others before Jake had snapped her neck when she had tried to kill Sam after he had confronted her.

Sam hadn't wanted to fight him, but Jake hadn't been willing to listen to reason.

Sam's body was aching. Finally he managed to knock Jake to the ground but then he couldn't kill him. He looked down at the soldier sprawled in the mud and couldn't bring himself to kill another human being especially when it was exactly what Yellow Eyes wanted. Dean shouting for him prompted Sam to drop his make shift weapon and turn in the direction of his older brother's voice as he came into view.

"SAM?" Dean yelled, searching for his brother.

Sam stumbled forward slightly as Bobby and Dean walked around the corner coming into view from the building's shadows.

"Sam," Dean breathed in relief upon seeing his brother alive and relatively in one piece.

"Dean," Sam called out, walking towards his older brother, not noticing Jake getting up behind him, grabbing the knife from the mud where it had been knocked in the fight just minutes before and advancing towards him.

"Sam, look out," Dean yelled, seeing the threat but it was too late.

Jake grabbed Sam by the shoulder and thrust the knife into his lower back by his spine. Dean and Bobby ran to try and stop him even though it was futile.

"NO!" Dean's scream contained disbelief and panic.

Sam groaned as he dropped heavily to his knees in the mud. He could feel the cold fingers of death already creeping up on him. Dean fell to his knees in front of Sam, clutching desperately at him by the lapels of his favourite, his only, light brown jacket as Bobby chased after Jake holding his rifle upon seeing Dean had a hold of Sam.

"Sam, whoa, Sam, hey," Dean murmured to his younger brother, attempting to be comforting and soothing.

Thunder rumbled across the dark, cloudy sky ominously.

"Come here, come here. Let me look at you," Dean spoke, patting his right hand along his brother's back searching for the damage done by the knife while holding him up with his left. He pulled his hand away and looked down feeling something wet on it. His hand was covered in so much blood. Dean leaned back slightly to look at Sam's face as he spoke pleadingly.

"Hey, look at me. It's not that bad. It's not even that bad, alright? Sammy? Sam? Listen to me. We're gonna patch you up," Dean rambled, panicking, not sure of who he was trying to reassure, himself or his younger brother.

"Sam, whoa, Sam, hey."

Sam's eyes rolled back, his head lolling back and forth like a rag doll as he didn't have the energy to keep it up anymore, Dean's face swimming in and out of focus.

"You're gonna be good as new. Sam! I'm gonna take care of you. That's my job. Watch over my pain in the ass little brother. Sam! Sam? Sam? Sammy?" Dean shouted, patting Sam's face in the hopes of getting a response.

"Sam?" Dean started panicking though he tried not to show it, looking desperately for any signs of life in his baby brother and getting none.

"No, no, no, no, no, no," Dean muttered, pulling his brother's body into a tight hug.

"Oh god," Dean cried, cradling the back of Sam's head, his other arm wrapped tightly around Sam's back.

"No," Dean sobbed, rocking his and Sam's body as he cried almost silently.

Dean continued to sob as he clutched his baby brother's now lifeless body close to him. He didn't notice the gun shots as Bobby tried to catch up with Jake to take him down and failed, Jake disappearing into the darkness. He didn't notice when Bobby reluctantly returned and placed a hand on his shoulder in an effort to provide some comfort as the older man tried to also not break down in tears at the death of his adopted son.

All Dean knew was that Sam was dead, and he had failed to protect his little brother when Sam had needed him most and now he was truly alone in the world. Sam was dead and now he was alone echoed through his mind as Dean hugged Sam's body closer.

A loud clap of thunder echoed around them as it prepared to rain like the world itself was in mourning.