I don't want to make this AN too long so let's get right off the bat.

Firstly, thanks for reading. I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters, asides from my brand new OC.

Second; HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SAMMY!

The story starts slightly prior to the pilot episode, but soon transcends to the fourth season.

Thanks for your time, and enjoy!

-One-

Doves in Hands

Stanford, California

October 21st, 2005

7:56 p.m

I always forget that stupid bump in the road, Sam thought, swearing quietly as his car gave a small jerk as he drove down the nearly deserted backroad, which was shining with the remnant puddles of previous rainfall. The long branches from the trees on the side of the road were blowing ghostly in the strong winds, flying flecks of raindrops catching the light of the moon. He ignored the wind battering against the windows, its force so strong that for a few seconds it temporarily swerved the car a few centimeters.

As he heard his cell phone ringing, he struggled to root through his bag while keeping his eyes on the road, smiling a little as he saw the caller ID.

"Hey, Jess. I'm almost there."

"Oh, great. Did you get the popcorn and Twizzlers?"

"Yeah," he laughed, "I'll be there soon."

"Awesome. Sarah and Fred are going to be here in ten-ish minutes and I already got out the Scrabble and Monopoly, also all the geekiest movies I could lay my paws on."

"You're really set on this, huh?"

"Yes," she answered simply, "Geekends are about the most exciting thing to be invented since Snickers ice cream. Anyway, I thought you liked Star Trek?"

"More of a Star Wars fan, honestly."

"Traitor," she scathed lovingly.

Sam could hear the grin in his own voice as he spoke next, "Alright, I submit, but you have to consider calling it something other than Geekends; it's not the best incentive."

"Says you," she said, "I just want you to have fun tonight; you deserve it, working your butt off the way you have been lately. Drive carefully, okay? I'll see you in a few and I love you!"

"Love you too, Jess," Sam smiled and he hung up.

Now with only the radio for company, Sam listened vaguely to Happy Together by The Turtlesplaying softly, not nearly loud enough to overthrow the sound of the first few sprinkles of rain tapped loudly on the windshield or the roaring wind outside that was making its haunting howls more pronounced. He eyed the clouds above, which were thick, roundish, and had waves of white light flickering through them, proving a thunderstorm was on its way. He was soon having to squint his eyes and lean forward in the leather seat, slowing down almost twenty miles per hour. The wipers were making that loud squeaking noise and soon the windows were fogging up, making vision next to impossible.

'I can't see me lovin' nobody but you for all my life; when you're with me, baby the skies will be blue for all my life,' sang the radio, now barely audible due to the loud rain and bad reception.

"Damn it," Sam whispered. I can't see anything. The only reason he wasn't crashing was because he could still make sense of the double yellow lines in the center of the road, giving him an idea as to where the car was. He couldn't even hear his phone ringing and only noticed because it lit up again, but he thought he might crash into a tree if he didn't give the road his full attention.

The rain was becoming so powerful and fierce that it merely looked as though a billion different lines were painted in the scenery, obscuring ten feet in front of him.

I'll just stop by the gas station up the road and give Jess a call, tell her I'm going to be a little late.

Though as the moments pressed on, Sam wondered if he would even make it that far.

There was a flash of white light that blended out every rain drop cleanly, lighting up the entire road only for a mere second. But in that second, Sam swore he could see something falling through the tall tree branches that hovered over the road.

"Fu—!" Sam slammed his foot on the brake so hard that it felt as though his seatbelt was compressing his organs and bones together. The car, no doubt due to the thick puddles of rain on the road, skidded an extra foot until the shape of whatever just fell was concealed completely by the hood. With panicky fingers, he put the car into park and took off his seatbelt, scrambling out the door and into the insane downpour of the storm.

It was hard to see even in the light of the headlights, but the next near blinding flash of lightening revealed that it was a person. The person, a girl, was lying on her back with her arms crossed over her chest and her hands folded as though she were holding something. She was completely naked, her light hair clinging to the road, swaying to the right of her body with the direction of the small stream that picked up.

Sam bent down, checking her pulse with two fingers he fought to keep sturdy. Her pulse was not only pumping, but pounding so hard against his fingers it was as though she had just crossed the ribbon of a twelve mile marathon.

Is she drugged up? Sam wondered fearfully, sweeping his wet bangs out of his face and squinting his eyes at her folded hands that appeared to be twitching. It looked like she fell from the sky, though.

"Hey, can you here me?" he asked quickly, violently shaking his jacket off. He did not get an answer, but as he made to put the jacket over her pale, nude body, her hands began twitching again, like whatever she was holding within them was trying desperately to free itself. He made to unravel them, but before he could, the thing wriggled from under her fingers and at last broke free.

It was a bird, a dove, flapping its instantly damp wings dully and attempting to fly away, but the heaviness of the rain weighed it down immediately. Sam stared at it for only two seconds, allowing himself no time to ponder the strangeness of it and hastened to wrap his jacket securely around the girl and scooping her up into his arms. She was very light so he had no struggle getting her into the backseat of his car.

.

Sam barely kicked in the two front doors of the hospital before calling, "Hey, I really need a doctor over here!"

Several people in mint-green scrubs attended to him almost at once, helping her body onto a rolling stretcher and shooting questions at Sam as he jogged to keep up.

"What happened?" one female nurse asked him.

"I'm not sure; I was driving and it looked like she fel—she was in the middle of the road."

"You don't personally know her?"

"No, I just—no, I don't."

"What were you doing driving on a night like this?"

"I was making a quick trip to the grocery store; the weather wasn't as bad when I left my apartment."

"She didn't have anything on her? Wallet, or ID of any kind?" shot a third male nurse at him.

"No," replied Sam edgily, eyes locking onto the girl's face which was as peaceful as though she had just taken an afternoon nap. He took a moment to register to what he thought was blonde hair in the darkness, was actually straight locks of pure white hair. "No, she was completely—completely naked when I found her. I just checked for a pulse and then came here."

A firm hand on his chest kept him from following the stretcher through the next pair of double doors. A female nurse had stopped him and he obeyed calmly, but his eyes followed the stretcher until the doors closed.

"We're going to run a few tests on the patient, see the possibilities if this was a rape, a hit and run, or something else. You may not know her, but we'd like you to stick around so we can ask you a few more questions. That alright?"

Sam opened his mouth, paused, and then nodded. His fingers were twitching anxiously; he was desperate to get a hold of Jess and let her know what was going on and why he wasn't at the apartment yet.

"Great, thank you. What's your name?"

"Sam Winchester."

"Well, Sam, you've been a real hero tonight."

Sam only frowned and gave a half-nod of thanks. "Um, if it's alright, I'd like to make a quick call before we get to the questioning?"

"Sure."

Jess freaked of course, somehow misunderstanding Sam into thinking that he was the one in an accident.

"No, really; I'm alright, Jess," he assured her, glancing around a corner and combing his fingers through his damp hair. "It was this girl in the middle of the road."

"Girl? In the road? Who is she, do you know?"

"No idea. I just made sure her heart was beating and then rushed to the hospital. They're running tests on her now."

"Ohmygosh," Jess breathed. "I'm so glad no one got hurt, I mean hope she's okay. I think I should head over there."

"You don't have to worry about it, Jess," he dismissed, "I just want to make sure she's not in a coma or anything and then I'll head out. I think I'm going to mess that double-date."

"Don't even worry about it, Sam. Just make sure that girl is okay. Damn, that is so weird . . . are you sure you don't want me to come down there?"

"I'm sure; it's still pouring out there and I don't want anymore accidents happening. I'll keep on giving you an update, alright?"

"Alright, you knight in shining armor, you. I love you."

"Love you, too."

The questions the doctors inquired of him were very basic; has he ever met the girl before, what condition was her body in, did she have any bruises or cuts, or any blood to speak of. The doctors left off a vague hint that the local police department was going to have to be involved and that Sam was going to have to answer all of the same questions all over again. Sam didn't mind very much, but as he checked his watch to see that it was nearly ten, he was becoming very anxious to see Jess.

Sam sat in the lobby, twiddling his thumbs together and gazing unseeingly at the abnormally loud clock on the wall opposite him, an approaching figure in a long white doctor's coat dragging his attention away from it. He stood up, swiping a hand down his tired face and blinking rapidly in attempt to make himself more awake.

"Sam Winchester?" the middle-aged doctor inquired, folding his clipboard under his arms. As Sam nodded, the doctor continued, "I'm Dr. Schultz. We've run all the tests we could think of on the victim and so far, not a one came out positive. There's no traces of seamen, no strained tissue, or any sign of a struggle, so we've ruled out the possibility of rape. In fact, there's no marking, bruising, cuts, or any indication that she was hurt at all. All of her vitals are in good working condition and her blood sugar is fine, a little dehydrated though. Her bloodstream is completely clean, too. You say she was just lying in the middle of the road in complete nudity?"

"Yeah," said Sam, putting his hands in his back pockets and frowning.

Dr. Schultz breathed out heavily so his bushy white mustache ruffled. "Well, hopefully we'll have some answers when she wakes up."

"So she's okay? I mean, she's not in a coma?"

The doctor gave him a small smile. "No, son. She's going to be just fine."

Sam sighed out in relief. "Okay. Thanks a lot, doctor."

"No, thank you. Who knows what might have happened to her if you hadn't found her when you did? Anyways, I assume you want some kind of update with her when she wakes up?"

"Yeah, that'd be fine."

"Right, well you can leave your contact information with my assistant, Judith, here . . ."

The storm took an abnormally quick amount of time clearing up, considering how bad it was but by the time Sam finally left the hospital, there were still a few sprinkles of rain drizzling on the windshield. Sam nearly fainted out of joy when he opened his apartment door only to find Jess had made him a steaming bowl of tomato soup and hot mug of herbal tea.

"Thanks so much, Jess," he sighed as he sat at the table.

"Anything for the guy who saves stranded girls on the road," she said, running her fingers through the still-damp locks of his hair before kissing him gently on the temple and sitting beside him. "Was it a long night? Did they find anything out about her?"

"Nothing, but they're going to give me a call when she wakes up, but they didn't clarify for when that might be."

"This is some weird crap going on. I'm just glad everyone's okay. Anyways, you must be exhausted. Want to get an early night?"

With sweet alleviation, after Sam was done with his dinner, he changed and crawled into bed after Jessica, holding her tender body gently under his arms but thinking hard over the events of the last few hours.

Sam tried to think of any logical explanation, any at all, that could answer the cause for the girl in the road. Admitting it was of anything of that world threatened to break down the walls he had spent so long maintaining. What if whatever the girl said when she woke up meant he had to look into it? Sam had sworn he had let that life behind when he left his father and Dean nearly four years ago, but if something was out there hurting people, could he just let it go?

Sam felt as if he had been sleeping for twenty minutes when someone was gently shaking his shoulder and he opened his eyes to meet Jess's smiling blue orbs.

"Hey, sleepyhead," she cooed, "I would've let you sleep in, but the sheriff's here to talk to you."

"Huh?" he said, sitting upright and blinking rather rapidly.

"About the girl? Remember?"

"Right, right," he murmured, grudgingly tossing the blankets off himself. "Hey, did the hospital call?"

Jess smiled. "Yeah, they did and they say she's awake and really anxious to meet you."

.

Sam would have dropped by the hospital immediately after the sheriff had bombarded him with the identical questions the doctors had asked him, but he had three of his college classes to attend to before he could meet the girl.

It was roughly a good day; Professor Stewart had graded his paper with a 97 with a small note at the top, 'Very astute piece of writing, though if the case were malum prohibitum you would have more luck defending your client who performed a white crime opposed to a dangerous one.'

After having lunch with Jess and Brady, he announced he was going to at last go to the hospital and meet the mysterious girl. The doctor behind the counter recognized him from the other day and smiled warmly at him.

"Sam Winchester, right?" And as Sam nodded, "Right, well, she's awake, and she says she's dying to meet you. However, there are some technicalities that we didn't foresee."

"Like what?"

"Like she says she's suffering from total amnesia," Dr. Schultz replied and Sam raised his eyebrows.

"Completely?"

"Can't remember anything, not even her own name. We've taken it into consideration that when she ended up there she might have hit her head, or suffered highly on a traumatic level. Either way, we're appointing her a head scan soon. Would you like to see her?"

Sam nodded.

.

The girl was sitting completely upright in the hospital bed with her arms folded uncertainly in her lap, eyes flickering around the room until Sam entered who she anchored her gaze immediately on. She gave off an almost comical impression that she had not the faintest idea as to how she had ended up there. Her expression barely shifted as Sam edged his way awkwardly closer, smiling slightly as he pulled up one of the plastic chairs but not sitting on it yet.

He was not sure of her eye-color until she shifted a little so her gaze caught the glare of the white light above. It appeared to be a very dark green with a heavy black line that rimmed them. The whites of her eyes were unusually clean of any veins, making the green more pronounced.

There was a slightly youthful look to her that Sam struggled to grasp the reason behind. Was it that she seemed to open her eyes more so than others, giving off the illusion that they were bigger? Maybe her pale skin that had little to no healthy flush in it that gave Sam the impression of a porcelain doll. Under her right eye, on the top of her cheek bone was an imperfect beauty mark, taking more of a sideways oval shape than circular. The bottom of her lip was bigger than the top, and as they parted Sam could see her bottom row of teeth were slightly crooked in some places. Her cheekbones were high, jaw slightly narrow, and high upper eyelids that only did more work on making her look younger.

Despite her young look, Sam thought her to look at least in her late teens to early twenties.

Though of course the strangest feature about her was her pure white sheet of completely straight hair. Sam had a feeling if he held up a sheet of printer paper to it, her hair would have made it look gray.

Her button nose crinkled slightly as he sat down before her, folding his arms in front of him and trying to smile gently again. "Uh, hi."

She watched him, her lips working oddly, as if she was trying to remember how to smile. "Hello."

"Um, my name is Sam Winchester. I guess, uh, I guess I'm the one who found you."

Again, her eyebrows twitched to frown, but she looked as though she were struggling to remember how to form the expression. "Oh."

"They told me you said you can't remember anything."

"Anything at all," she confirmed, sinking a little further back into the mattress, her unblinking gaze still on him. "Even words. I couldn't answer the question they asked 'who is the president'. I can't even remember what a president is."

Sam's eyebrows rose against his will. "What's the first thing you remember?"

"This bed," she said, shifting again. "A beeping noise, a pain in my skin. The unfriendly white light above. I've asked them to turn it off but they say they need it for more testing. I don't want more testing. I want to go somewhere else."

The use of her words, the simplicity of them; they too gave off a slightly juvenile approach. Sam smiled again for some reason.

"Where would you go?" he asked her.

She looked stumped at the question. "I don't know the answer. The people here; they give me these small pills filled with white powder and tell me it will make me feel better. It makes me tired, which make my eyes shut . . ." She continued to watch him in a way that made Sam almost feel as if his privacy was being disturbed. "They told me you saved me, Sam Winchester. I can't fully remember what that means, only that I owe you in some manner."

Sam lifted up a quick hand, chuckling uncertainly. "Whoa there. Don't worry. You don't owe me anything. I couldn't just leave you there in the road. I'm just glad you're okay."

"I would like to say I am, if I could remember what 'okay' really meant. Do you know?"

The left corner of Sam's lips twitched upward with precariousness. "I guess you got me there." He noticed that her lips seemed to keep mainly parted, revealing the bottom of her front teeth. "I'm going to guess you don't recall a name?"

"Nothing. They've been calling me patient 'one-eighteen', but I have no recolle—recollec . . . I, uh, still have no memory. None. I still have to look every five minutes in the mirror to remember what I look like."

Sam frowned, sitting up straighter. "What's that like?"

"Funny. I can't remember a name, but I can tell that I like the way you wear your hair." She looked at him. "Is that weird?"

Sam smiled timidly. "I think it's a good sign, actually. Well—do you know any names? I mean you have to call yourself something until you remember."

For the first time, she smiled, and the simple action was very effective in changing the light on her face. The apples of her cheeks became very bold when her lips stretched upward, and this small change made her eyes seem brighter somehow. "I like your—confidence, Sam Winchester. The white-coated men and women say the possibility of my memories returning are entirely unpredictable. I would prefer to have them back; it's a struggle not to remember who I am, the things I like and dislike, my favorite food and music. I am not much of a person without them."

"I'm sure it'll come to you eventually," said Sam, leaning back in his chair and wondering if he believed his own words.

"I don't know that. They've sent out pictures of myself in case anyone recognizes me, but they say I might have to be transferred to a hospital in a place called Colorado to see more doctors, ones that are more suited to dealing with my condition."

The loony bin, Sam thought before he could stop himself. "How do you feel about that?"

"I don't like the idea of more doctors, but I want to remember." She paused. "Even a name."

"Well, what do you want to call yourself in the meantime?"

"It should mean something. At least, I think it should." She got a very strange glint in her eye, smiling in a way that was much too mischievous for a girl who probably couldn't even remember what that word meant. "You should name me."

"What?" Sam laughed.

"I'd rather you than me; I don't know any. You seem like a nice, tall person; you could probably come up with a good one."

Sam looked at her childishly expectant face carefully, wondering why he was smiling so widely. "What if I gave you a really stupid one and you wouldn't know it was stupid?"

"I wouldn't mind; I would just be glad to have something that yougave me."

They eyed one another for a few moments, up until Sam chuckled again and scratched his chin with a small shrug. "Um, I don't know." His eyes fixed on her hair, trying to think of some name that could relate to it, but all that came to mind was Storm from X-Men. Storm. Well, he did find her in a storm, maybe that was some kind of sign, and he did kind of like it. He coughed, "Uh, what about—how do you feel about Storm?"

"Storm?" The sparkle returned to her eyes, but her lips were closed this time when she smiled. "I like it. My name is when the rain falls. Thank you, Sam Winchester."

"Just Sam," he smiled. "Hopefully you can remember everything soon."

"Are you leaving?" she asked as he stood up.

"Yeah, I probably should. But I'm really glad you're okay, uh, Storm."

She looked confused as to what to feel, but she was frowning at the mattress. She glanced back up at him. "Will you be able to visit again?"

"Um, maybe," he said, seeing no reason why he couldn't.

She smiled shyly and her eyes flickered, as though embarrassed to make eye-contact. "I'd like that. I want to see your face again many times in the future."

Sam chortled, "Alright. I'll try my best."

.

Later the next day as the aging nurse named Betty was checking Storm's blood pressure, she said with a minxy wink that collided oddly with the wrinkles around her eyes, "Saw that cutie-patootie visiting you earlier. Now that's what you call Prince Charming, I suppose."

"He is charming," Storm agreed, "A prince—I haven't asked."

Betty looked as if she wasn't sure whether to inform the amnesiac girl of the fairy tale, but as Storm looked up at her, she merely smiled tightly and made to remove the band from her bicep.

"Can I take a walk?" Storm asked.

"A walk where?"

"Somewhere—anywhere that isn't in this room. I'd like some air."

"Patients aren't permitted to exit the establishment. If you want to stretch your legs, you can walk around the hospital for a bit."

Storm nodded, desperate to get out of the tiny square room and away from the whites tiles, white walls, and the lights that left temporary specks in her vision. Though admittedly, wandering the narrow corridors was not much better. The perfectly symmetrical walls and tiles made her feel vaguely dizzy and the stares she got from the other patients who were eying her hair were making her feel out place.

Nearing the front of the hospital, Storm discovered the gift shop which was more like a miniature book store. Grateful she could at least remember to read, she entered it and asked the tired looking man behind the counter if she could stay for awhile and browse the shelves of novels and magazines. He gave a noncommittal grunt of approval and Storm happily indulged herself in several different books which ranged from cooking ones to the children's section.

After awhile of being stuffed in the dark corner of the deserted shop, Storm found herself surrounded by tall towers of books of almost every genre. Currently she held one that helped identify certain breeds of birds. It had captured her eye at once and sometimes she found herself guessing the name of bird before she even read on it, making her wonder if she was some sort of bird keeper before the incident.

A pair of old sneakers appeared in her vision, and her eyes lifted up along long legs and pronounced torso, which then led to Sam Winchester's face which was split in a small, friendly smile.

"They told me I could find you here," he said, shifting a heavy-looking black book bag over his shoulder, surveying her criss-crossed position.

"I'm glad you came again," she said, lowering the book into her lap.

"Yeah, of course. I'm guessing no snappy miracles of getting your memory back happened as you slept?"

"Nothing. It's a little disconcerting, but only if I think about it for too long." She stood up, pointing at his bag. "What's that for?"

"Oh, I just came back from college. You remember . . . ?" Sam was uncertain whether it was rude or not to ask if she remembered what college was, but she smiled.

"I do. What are you studying?"

"Mainly law, with a few other side classes of criminal justice. I—just wanted to see how you're doing. About the same?"

"More or less."

Sam watched her handle the book. "Oh, you like birds?"

She looked down at it, and then back at him. "I think I do, which I guess is a good sign. The doctor also suggested I go through a baby name book and see if I find mine."

"Here," said Sam, indicating for her to hand him the book. With only the slightest of pauses, she did and Sam placed the book on the counter, pulling out his wallet.

"You're buying me the book?"

"I mean, you have to have something to keep you occupied in here," he said, handing it back to her after a quick 'thanks' to the cashier. They walked out of the book store together.

"Thank you," she said seriously, meeting him dead in the eye and gratefulness hanging to every breathy tone. Sam laughed uncertainly.

"Don't worry about it. Worth every four dollars and fifty cents." Storm giggled. "So do you know what's next on the agenda?"

"They're going to run a CAT scan—which for the life of me I really have no memory of, and I'm just imagining someone placing a cat over my face."

"Not sure that's how it works," smiled Sam as they started walking their way slowly down the hallway. "It's a big machine that they put you under and do an X-ray of your brain. They'll probably be searching for places that you could have bumped your head and ended you up with memory loss."

"My nurse also said that something very traumatic could have made all of this happen, which makes me a little wary of remembering. If something so bad happened that my brain forced me to forget it, maybe it's safer turning a blind eye."

Sam had no response to this.

.

As it turned out, Sam did visit Storm frequently the next few days. The longest he stayed was a good half an hour or hour on a rainy day. She never asked much of him, but she did request things one that lost their memory would only require. For instance, she came up with a game in which Sam would pick a word from the dictionary and she would try to guess what they meant. Depending on the word, she was about fifty-fifty with getting them correct. She was particularly confused when Sam found the word 'apple-knocker'(an ignorant or unsophisticated person)and was convinced he was making it up until he showed her the page it was listed on.

Sam had brought a playing deck of Uno cards that had been stuffed in the back of his closet in the apartment for the longest time and knew she would thoroughly enjoy them. It didn't take much to please her; he could hold up his fingers to a light and make a shadow puppet and she would call him a glorious, tall, nice person. She nearly lost her head completely when he told her she could keep the cards.

Sam could understand her behavior; apart from a vague idea of common sense, with no memory to recall the world before, everything was shiny and new to her, resulting in a slightly youthful behavior.

He didn't mind spending time with her, in fact, he enjoyed it almost as much as she seemed to. He liked that she liked little things, such as when she expressed the feeling that it was fun for her to watch him do his homework, how when he really concentrated the wrinkles between his eyebrows when frowning would form an upside down 'U'. He liked that she would never eat her Jello, but poke at it with her spoon for nearly five minutes just to watch it wiggle. He liked how curious she was almost about everything, mostly about the things he did. She said she liked to hear him talk about his college classes even if she knew nothing about them, but just enjoyed seeing how his eyes lit up when he spoke of something he had a passion for.

Within the first week, Storm had discovered that she liked things such as writing and drawing, with little patience for math and science. Though she was not very good at either, Sam was able to make out a sort of bird on the printer paper the doctor had given her to draw on. Her handwriting was a little messy, but she was glad she could at least remember how to spell.

On Friday, Sam finally thought it a good idea to bid to Jessica's curious desires and introduce the two. Storm liked Jess a lot, greeting her with a compliment on her long, curly blonde hair and left it off on an inquiry as to why she was the only one with white locks.

On a chilly Sunday afternoon, Sam sat beside her bed, playing Uno which was usually how they started their visit. The wind lashed against the window and the open blinds revealed the gray clouds that were almost identical to the ones that had been in the sky the night Sam found her.

"Dr. Schultz told me yesterday that I'll be transferred to another hospital on Wednesday," Storm started carefully as she placed her red card over the one Sam had just placed in the pile. His gaze lifted.

"Oh, um . . . do you still not want to go?"

"This past week, the reluctance has built. I've enjoyed our time together—more so than you can imagine, Sam Win—" She cut herself off with a guilty smile. "I can at least say that I will always have the name you gave me; this is a strange comfort."

Sam sat back in his chair, fondling the cards softly between his fingers and trying to smile, but it almost hurt to try and force it. He sincerely wanted Storm to get better; he wanted her to remember her life, her likes and dislikes, for her to return to her family. He supposed he was merely disgruntled at how little he had to offer her, or just the small part he had played for her. He wished he could help to any degree, but he knew there was nothing he could do. He guessed he had made her stay at the hospital a little more enjoyable, but the week had flown by much too quickly and Sam was sad, even mortified, that they would be taking their own paths soon.

Knowing she would be gone in the next few days, Sam found himself strangely thinking about all the things that he would be missing about her; her slightly crooked teeth, how when she laughed she really gave it her all and resembled something like a chicken that had too much bird feed stuck in its throat, her unbreakable interest in whatever he had to say, or how she had a very specific way of speaking and that honesty was something she never left out, whatever she might say.

The next few days that felt much more like three hours, the weather had not submitting to a warmer climate and on Sam's last visit to Storm, the gray atmosphere that could be seen outside of her room window had never been so miserably pronounced. He rattled his knuckles twice on the door even if Storm had already acknowledged his presence. Opposed to her general position under the covers, she was sitting on the edge of her bed with a paper and pencil, using the bird book as a hard surface.

"Hey," he greeted.

"Hi."

"Guess this is my last chance to see you."

"I'm being flown to Colorado with an escort tomorrow—so yes." In a pause where the only noise was the wind was battering so fiercely against the glass window it was as if it was trying to force itself inside, they measured each other carefully with one another's stare. "I'm sad about this."

His lips twitched, but his face seemed very unwilling to permit a smile. He handed her a small slip of paper. "It's my phone number. Keep in touch."

She took it with all her ten thin fingers, examining it longer than necessary. She looked up with a sad smile. "I will. I have a piece of paper for you, too."

She handed him the paper she had just been drawing on and Sam let out an appreciative chuckle. It was more or less better than a child's drawing, but Sam knew he could hardly do better. He could at least make out the scene of a girl, obviously Storm, sitting on a bed and an exaggeratedly tall male sitting beside her. Both were holding Uno cards. They were unnecessarily labeled 'Storm' and 'Sam Winchester.'

"This is great. Thanks."

"Now's the part where you tell me you'll hang it on your refrigerator," she said and Sam laughed.

"Yeah, obviously. This is top quality refrigerator material."

He fondled the paper softly. He still hadn't sat down, but he had a feeling this wasn't going to be one of those visits where they play cards and read books together.

"I'll miss you, Sam Winchester."

His gaze lifted to hers and his chest tightened. He nodded softly. "Yeah. I'll miss you, too."

"If we're lucky, maybe we'll meet in the near future. Maybe I'll become a law student and take the same classes you do."

"You could," he said half-heartedly still with that strained smile.

"Will you always be here?"

"I don't know where else I'd be."

"I'll come back here knocking on the door like in that movie with the guy and the ax! Heeeeere's Stormy!"

"Yeah, but if you hack at the front door with an ax, I think you might scare Jessica."

"Maybe a little. I'll do it very discreetly."

A breathy laugh left his nostrils. "Alright."

"I want you to take good care of yourself, because I like the way you are, so don't change."

"You take care of yourself, too. Make sure to call and tell me if there's any progress with your memory."

"I'll call everyday, if you want."

"Don't strain yourself."

There was a knock on the door and a young male nurse poked his head in the room. "Stor—um, miss? There's a few papers and discussion we need to go over before you leave early tomorrow. If you could come with me?"

Storm got to her feet, but she was still staring up at Sam, smiling. "This is the goodbye scene, then?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I suppose it is."

Sam was surprised when she suddenly hugged him, but was pleased all the same. Storm was not that short, but she still had to stand on her tippy toes in order for her face to be even somewhat level with his. Her lips just barely tickled the side of his cheek before she withdrew shyly, giggling in a terrified sort of way.

"Goodbye, Sam Winchester."

.

Sam was thinking hard all the way to his car, not even realizing he had missed the ignition several times before finally starting the engine. His brow was severely furrowed as he rolled out of the parking lot, turning on the windshield wipers as the next storm approached.

Then, with a jolt, he suddenly realized that he had been so caught up in everything, that he had completely forgotten about what had happened when he found her in front of his car. He hadn't mentioned to her that he had found a dove in her hands, but what with everything else, this trivial matter slipped from his mind entirely. Anyway, it was too late now, but he wondered vaguely where the bird was now, and why she was holding it in the first place.

Sam breathed out heavily, his chest rising and falling.

Wow, he thought, I really am going to miss you.

Thoughts? :]