A light breeze blew through the neighborhood, rustling the leaves in the trees and the thick brown locks of young Sam Winchester. With a smile on his face and pep in his step, the 4th grader was the object of pure youthful happiness. He was eagerly walking as quickly as he could to get home to show his father the amazing grade he got on the major math test from the day before. Yes, Sam Winchester, was one, happy, boy.

Not paying much attention in front of him, the boy didn't seem to notice the large kid standing in the middle of the sidewalk, that is until he bumped into him and fell onto the ground. Looking up, Sam was suddenly over come by a deep dread at the site of the school bully, Jacob Manders. At the age of 13, the teen had been held back in the 5th grade for the last 3 years of his life. Yet no matter how long he stayed, it didn't seem like he was getting any smarter. In fact, the way Sam saw it, he seemed only to be getting stupider.

"Hey there runt," he said, a rough slobbery sound to his voice, "Whatcha got there?" Sam glanced down at the paper gripped tightly in his hand, the horrible feeling in his stomach growing worse as he realized what the bully meant. He tried to pull away when Jacob reached down to take it, but the teen just grabbed his arm and pried the paper out of his fingers. Looking at the paper, he laughed a deep crude laugh and proceeded to rip it to shreds; Sam only being able to sit and watch as he did so.

But the bully did not stop there, no. For when the final piece of paper had drifted to the rough cement ground, Jacob pulled Sam to his feet and stole his backpack. The younger boy was about to ask for him to 'please, please, please give it back,' when he took a great heave and successfully threw it over the fence.

"HAH! Good luck getting it back." And with that, Jacob Manders sauntered off.

Sam looked up at the long, wooden posts nailed so tightly together. Oh, if only it had been some other fence. Any fence but this. If it had been any other fence in the neighborhood, Sam could have just gone up to the door, knocked, and politely asked if the nice people could please retrieve his backpack from their backyard. But with this fence, it was a little hard to do that when no one knew where the house this fence belonged to was. It ran a little over a mile long, most of the way from Sam's elementary school to his house. No one seemed to know who could possibly own the property. Even Sam's dad, who had been born and raised in the town, had no clue who its owner was.

And here, poor little Same Winchester, stood, wishing so much that by some miracle he could get his backpack back. And as he stood there, looking at the fence and hoping, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. It seemed that one of the planks had been broken and part of it lie on the ground nearby. Kneeling down, and looking Sam could see his backpack laying on the grass, not too far away, with a forest a few feet father behind it. The young Winchester felt uneasiness as he tried to look around, but not being able to see much more than that. Reaching his arm through the hole, he tried so desperately to grab his backpack. After about 5 minutes of trying this, Sam sighed in sorrow, coming to terms that he just couldn't reach it, and that even if he could, there's no way he could get it through the hole.

He was about to head back home, when he heard a sort of rustling, like someone was walking in the grass. He looked around, but didn't see anybody. The 4th grader was confused, until suddenly he got a strange thought. Turning back to the hole, he saw that now, someone was standing in front of it, on the other side.

Sam jumped back slightly. Then, the person kneeled down so that he could see them. It was a young boy, probably around his age. With golden brown hair, big honey brown eyes, and a sucker sticking slightly out of his mouth, this boy didn't look very strange or unusual. He didn't seem dangerous, so Sam thought it would be rude of him not to introduce himself.

"Hi there. My name's Sam," he said, smiling and sticking his arm back through the hole, "What's yours?"

The other boy didn't answer, didn't even shake Sam's hand; he just turned and pointed at his backpack. The look in his eyes seemed to Sam like he was asking a question. It took him a minute to realize what it was.

"Oh, uh, that's mine." He said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head, "I don't know how but I managed to accidently throw it over the fence." The young Winchester let out a light nervous laugh, the laugh dyeing when he saw a look on the other boy's face that seemed to ask, 'Accidently?'. "Could you maybe throw it back over?" This time, not only did the boy not answer, but actually got back up to his feet. Sam watched as he started walking off, not taking very long to leave his view. He was about to yell at him to please come back and give him his backpack, when the boy came back into sight and made a 'come' motion with his hand. Sam didn't quite understand but got to his feet anyway. Walking for a little bit, within a few minutes they came to an old gate. Unlike the rest of the fence, this looked old and improperly cared for. Sam had almost forgotten about it. And suddenly, he watched as, for the first time since before even his own father could remember, the gate was opened.

Once it was open, the boy swept his arm out in a welcoming kind of motion. Hesitating at first, Sam walked in and immediately ran over, grabbed his backpack, and ran back. He smiled at the other boy. "Thank you so much for letting me get my backpack. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't." The other boy just nodded his head, a large smile placed upon his face.

With one last glance and a slight wave, Sam began his trek home, hearing the creaky sound of the gate being closed. And one thought continued to race through his head, 'Well, that was interesting.'