Disclaimer: I don't own anything of Supernatural or Angel Sanctuary. All OC's are made up within 2 seconds and any resemblance to any person living or fake is coincidental. Except the teachers. I may have refenced a few of my more memorable teachers from back in my own high school days. Hoggard High and other places mentioned are based off real locations but I still don't own anything to do with any of them.

Warnings: yaoi SLASH GabrielxSam

Notes: Sam is 14, Dean is 18. This is an idea I had based off John Winchester's journal. (By Alex Irvine) He has a few notes about the Trickster in it that made me think that maybe he'd had an encounter with him before. But there weren't any details so I made my own up. Enjoy.

Chapter 1: School Daze

Sam Winchester heaved his heavy backpack over his shoulder and trudged in the light rain after his older brother Dean. The cool water hitting his face and slowly dampening his clothing. Dean's hands were shoved into his heavy leather jacket that had once belonged to their dad since he had stopped bringing books to whichever school they were attending at the moment, or any previous school for the past year.

The unlucky high school that the young traveling hunters attended at the moment was John T. Hoggard High, home of the Vikings in Wilmington, NC. Dean cast a backwards glance at his little brother, ruffling one hand through his own short hair to make the spikes stand back up after the rain had soaked them down. Sam knew that look; the look that said Dean was worried about him, but not so much that he'd make it vocal. He'd just check up on him every half a minute by peeking at him nonchalantly until he was satisfied that his little Sammy wasn't going to go into 'mope mode'.

Honestly, Sam was just happy that Dean was here. He'd just started high school as a freshman, right as Dean was finishing his as a senior. The age difference was unfair. Because of the four year gap Sam hadn't been able to spend any of middle school with Dean and as a result Dean acted like a mother hen, racing to Sam's school after his own got out to walk him home, barging him with questions about how his day was and if there was anyone whose ass needed a good old fashioned Winchester kicking.

But that'd all be over soon. Even though Dean joked about failing so he could spent an extra year going to high school with Sam and checking out all the fine illegal ladies without being considered a pervert, Sam knew that Dean would either graduate this year, or he'd drop out and get his GED. Their dad wasn't wasting any extra time with them in school and had made it quite clear that he wanted Dean fully in the family business before he turned 19 - high school diploma or not. Besides, what poltergeist cared about diplomas? It's not like they'd ever walk into a haunted house and just announce they had straight A's and hope the spirit used to be a school principal and would be so proud it'd stop haunting people.

They finally reached the stairs to the cafeteria and Sam shook his wet bangs from side to side like a dog after a bath, shrugging his backpack back onto his shoulder once again and letting out a deep sigh.

Dean gave him one more second glance before throwing on a cocky grin and nodding a good-bye. His boots squeaked across the linoleum flooring as he walked over to his current girlfriend of the week, a tall ginger girl with hair to her waist and freckles covering her face below her dark brown eyes. There was no telling what tastes Dean had in girls. It seemed like he was making a personal goal to collect kisses and other un-mentionable things from every different hair color, eye color, cliché he could find. Last week had been a blonde from a group of Goths, her blue eyes heavy with black eye shadow. And the week before that a shy Asian with glasses that defied her geek appearance by being a cheerleader. Sam didn't even know the current ginger's name, but she was dressed in a sporty stoner way, as if to tell the world she'd just rolled out of bed and threw on her comfiest clothes that weren't PJs.

Sam found a seat by the window, the rain coming down harder now and blanketing the shatter-proof glass making the world outside look distorted and blurry like it was under a waterfall. He debated for a second about going through the narrow lines to get breakfast, but decided against it for lack of energy to get up and make his way over. He knew he'd need it to get this low energy up later for gym class, but since it was raining they'd be forced to stay indoors and how much exercise could they get indoors? Not enough to make Sam debate anymore about getting out of this spot and he folded his arms on the table and used them as a damp pillow, resting his head on them and relaxing until the bell for 1st period rang.

He never saw the new student walk in, surprisingly dry for someone who just walked through a thunderstorm to get to the safety of inside the school from the bus ramp. The kid's olive green eyes found the young Winchester, slumped forward on the cafeteria table and let a smirk fall across his lips.

SPN SPN SPN

Sam sat in 1st period Algebra towards the back of the room, near the door. His middle-aged teacher Mr. Christener was rambling on something about his dog Baxter grading their tests from yesterday and in the past few weeks that Sam had been here he'd been slowly growing more and more positive that Baxter was imaginary and Mr. Christener was just a very lonely and possibly insane man.

His jacket hung on the back on his chair as he copied fractions off the white board, resisting the urge to lay his head down on the desk and fall back asleep like he had in the cafeteria. His resistance was fueled by the reminder that Mr. Christener was indeed most likely mentally unstable and liked to sit on the floor next to sleeping students and stare and whisper their name over and over until they finally woke up. A tactic that left the student feeling un-nerved the rest of the day as if someone were constantly watching them. Besides, he'd be able to sleep through English. His pregnant teacher Mrs. Mott was so far along that in-between the morning sickness and the mood swings, she didn't care what the students did as long as they were quiet and he'd be able to catch another nap through her class.

He was drawn out of his thoughts by the principal knocking on the polished, wooden door and poking his shiny, bald head into the classroom, his deep, gentle voice calling Mr. Christener out into the hallway.

When he returned, a kid about Sam's own age followed him into the classroom. He stood about Sam's height, probably a little shorter thanks to the recent growth spurt he'd been having. He had brown hair with a dark ginger tint to it that had long bangs to his chin and parted down the middle framing the face and short in the back, spiking out in a hairstyle that Sam was pretty sure he'd only seen on girls. His olive green eyes had flecks of brown in them that almost changed their color in the right light and seemed to penetrate Sam's own hazel eyes that could never seem to decide between green or brown themselves. Some people even swore his eyes were blue and he remembered how Dean had put an end to the debate by deciding that Sam's eyes were like a mood ring, and mocked surprise every time Sam would pout and tell him they'd just turned blue. They hadn't of course - but it put an end to Sam's constant staring into the mirror trying to figure out what color his eyes were.

"Class, this is Gaybe Norsen. He's new to our class." Mr. Christeners eyes met with Sam's, sharing the same thought of 'another new student this month?' He turned to write Gaybe's name on the white board with a green pen and several students immaturely snickered and whispered "Gaaaaaaay. Be. Be. Gay." mocking the poor kids name. Sam rolled his eyes and Gaybe toke a seat a few rows over next to the windows. He felt bad for the ginger kid to automatically get made fun of on account of his name - which he had no control over, but surely it didn't help to have a girly haircut and jeans that tight. Sam shook his head away from Gaybe's tight jeans and the black converse that peeked out at the bottom and looked like someone had drawn over the few white spots on the shoes with sharpies. He had a tight faded grey Star Wars shirt on and Sam found himself wanting to talk to him once class was over just to have someone to talk to about his favorite nerdy movies that Dean refused to admit he liked. Besides, with the way things were going so far it sounded like he'd need a friend. And Sam needed one too.

Not that it'd matter. In a couple of weeks, or maybe even less, their dad would be back and they'd be up and onto a new town and new school and he'd probably never seen Gaybe again. Just like Barry. He sighed wondering how Barry was and let his gaze wander back to the white board where Mr. Christener was writing out and explaining the radius and circumference of circles. He never even noticed olive eyes turning and staring back at him.

SPN SPN SPN

Sam hadn't had a chance to talk to Gaybe, the kid was quick and got from his seat to the door faster than Sam could blink - he'd almost swear that he had teleported or had Scotty beam him up. After a not-so-peaceful sleep in Mrs. Mott's class and a harsh thump on the shoulder from Dean followed by a shrug and a look that plainly said 'Well pay attention and wave to your big bro when you see him and maybe next time I won't have to hit you,' Sam headed into the large gymnasium for P.E.

The rain still poured down outside, making itself known through the windows above the bleachers and the humming of the water hitting the rooftop in a thrumming metallic sound. The gym teachers had opted to set up the volleyball nets in the middle of the gym so Sam heaved a sigh of relief that it wasn't dodge ball or basketball. Just volleyball, a sport that unless your playing against people who actually care and know how to play, you just stand around and stare at the ball as it comes towards you, hoping to deflect it to another unlucky student before it beans you in the face.

Sam stood out against some of the other students in his jeans, wearing the light blue t-shirt uniform but refusing to wear the dark blue uniform shorts. But as long as he was in a t-shirt and sneakers the couches let him participate so there was no reason to humiliate himself by showing off his skinny legs. No one wore shorts in his family and he wasn't about to be the first to start. It was too dangerous to run through the woods or abandoned houses in anything that didn't completely cover you to protect from branches, rusty nails or whatever claws the enemy had.

The only other person not wearing shorts was Gaybe who was suddenly right next to Sam completely invading his personal space and Sam allowed himself a shocked step backwards at the sudden appearance of the new ginger kid.

Gaybe simply shrugged. "Coach said he didn't have time to dig out a uniform for me today." His voice was casual, as if him not being in gym uniform was the reason Sam was so shocked to see him standing there. "You're in my algebra class." It was a statement, not a question.

Sam nodded and Gaybe mimicked his action as if mocking him. Sam tilted his head, and Gaybe did the same. Yep, defiantly mocking him.

"Why are you doing that?" He asked.

"Doing what?" Gaybe kept his head titled and smirked, not even flinching when the coach's whistle sounded loudly across the gym.

"Aulrighty kiddos, to your positions for warm-ups!" Couch Gayle announced as the students filed to one side of the classroom. "Winchester! Grab your stuff and head to the office, you've just been checked out."

Sam's mind blanked out for a second before his feet started to move back towards the locker room, ignoring the 2nd whistle sounding as everyone started stretching out their muscles. He stopped and glanced backwards as a chill spread up his spine making him feel like he was being watched but when he looked back all he saw was everyone with their arms over their heads, pulling on their wrists.

He made it back to the locker room and threw open his door that he never bothered to keep a lock on, not noticing that it was hanging open an inch as if someone else had already opened it. He didn't even bother taking off his gym shirt as he quickly opened his locker and grabbed his book bag, a million reasons why he was being checked out of school racing through his mind.

Dean stood outside the attendance office waiting for him and gave him a slight nod of the head and he approached.

"What's going on Dean?"

Dean gave him a smile, the smile that lied when he told Sam everything was going to be ok when he was worried about something.

"Not much, dad is back in town and wants us back at the hotel."

"Is the hunt over?"

Dean paused looking thoughtful before shaking his head no and Sam let the conversation drop knowing that Dean didn't have anymore answers for him. Their dad never filled them in on more than they needed to know so the only thing that Dean probably knew was that dad was at the hotel and wanted them there ASAP.

The rain was still coming down as they walked out to the student parking lot where the Impala stood out from the rest of the cars in its sleek, black, classic beauty. Dad had given Dean the beloved car for his 18th birthday since it was the only thing he really could give Dean as a 'becoming a man' gift and even though the school was less than a block away from the motel, Dean insisted on driving the car everyday. Sam was really going to miss riding to school in it when Dean started going away on his own hunts after graduation. He was going to miss the leather smell of the interior that Dean was currently complaining about getting wet as they settled in and fastened their seatbelts, and mostly, he was going to miss the way Dean treated it better than any girlfriend he ever had. He was going to miss Dean period and he shut off the emotional pain that he'd been having constricting in his chest every time he thought of Dean going away.

SPN SPN SPN

They arrived at the motel within minutes but longer than it should have taken thanks to other driver's inability to drive over 30mph while roads were wet even though the speed limit itself was only 45. John's big, black Chevy truck was parked in front of their room, the arsenal in the trunk completely hidden from anyone who didn't already know of its location.

Dean walked in first, making a big show of shaking the water out of the Impala's keys and hanging the leather jacket in the shower to dry as he wiped the dripping water off of it with a towel, to show John that he was taking good care of his car and jacket in case he ever had any 2nd thoughts and debated taking either away from his oldest son.

Sam simply dropped his bag on the floor before peeling his own tan jacket off and dropping it to the soggy pile next to the door. John didn't look up at either of them, simply kept rifling through the papers that lay around the motel room that hadn't been there when they had left for school this morning.

Dean came back into the room breaking the silence. "Yo dad, the hunt over already?"

John shook his head which perked Sam's curiosity and he sat down on his bed, which was conviently not the one covered with papers. John never came back without finishing a hunt, and he never toke a break. Ever since his boys were old enough to fend for themselves without John having to check in on them everyday he'd drop them off in one town close to a school and then go a few towns over for a hunt so that it'd be safer in case anything he was hunting tried to go after him and follow him home or to keep Sam and Dean out of any accidently cross-fire or keep them from becoming potential targets. A million different reasons why John tried to keep his hunts far from his boys. It didn't make sense for him to be here now.

"The damned thing moved. I tracked it back here." John let another paper drop to the floor as he considered it useless, clearly agitated that it had moved to the town his sons were in, placing them in potential danger that he had tried to keep them out of this time.

"Figure out what it is yet?" Sam asked, remembering that his dad had only a few leads to go on when he left for the hunt, but enough strong details that there was something that needed to be stopped a few hours away in Greeneville, North Carolina.

John simply shook his head. If he had any ideas on what it was when he left, or what it was now that he tracked it back here, the only person he was sharing with was his journal. Sam hated the need to know basis that he kept them on. Now that he was here they could help out, not that Sam wanted to, but he wouldn't even hint at what they were up against. What if it found them and they needed to protect themselves? They'd be screwed. And all thanks to John's closed off thought process.

But for something to escape their dad and make him re-track it, and the way he shuffled through the mountains of computer print-outs, faxes from Bobby and probably either Jim or Caleb, and newspapers, whatever it was, it had him unnerved and on edge. There was a sawed off shotgun lying across his lap and Sam didn't fail to notice the salt laying across the doorway and windows.

Sam leaned out of his chair to grab a discarded newspaper lying on the floor. The date read June 10th, less than a week ago and had a large photo of a closed off crime scene on the front page, with pictures of two college guys that had apparently been found dead outside of their dorms. The two guys, Malcolm Sweeny and Peter Monroe had been previously arrested for drugging a girl's drink at a party with PCP and then pretended their dorm was haunted in order to get the girl close to them when she got scared. However their plan backfired when the girl started hallucinating and jumped out the window - killing herself.

Apparently Malcolm and Peter felt guilty and jumped off their own dorm building the week after they were released for the prosecutor not being able to find any hard evidence to pin on them to keep them in custody. But if dad had kept this newspaper, it meant he thought it had something to do with the supernatural. There must be something more to the story, something that made them jump or perhaps even chased them over the edge.

There was a silence in the room as all three Winchesters were silent, thinking about the case.

Dean stayed up late, checking the ammunition and cleaning the weapons while John continued flipping through the files. He hadn't spoken since they'd first arrived hours ago, surprising Sam by not asking him to do research. He knew his dad was really worried if he was going so far to keep Sam out of the loop to keep him safe that he wasn't even asking him to look anything up online in case he risked letting his son know anymore than the grisly details he'd found in the newspaper John had carelessly left on the floor.

Sam curled up under the covers, letting his eyes droop shut, watching his brother clean the bullet clips and being lulled to sleep by the steady repetitive motions of his hands as they worked over the lethal metal. Dean never had to even do anything, just be in the same room, to make Sammy feel safe as he drifted off to sleep.

SPN SPN SPN

The next morning Sam woke to the smell of coffee and dark circles under his dad's eyes making him wonder if the eldest Winchester had slept at all the previous morning. Dean was sprawled out across the bed on top of both the covers and the papers John had been trying to read and still fully dressed even down to his boots.

John, noticing Sam waking up nodded to Dean. "He just passed out a few hours ago. I'm going to keep him here to help me..." He trailed off before adding as an after thought. "Need a ride to school?"

Sam shook his head declining but John shook his as well. "Nah, I'll give you a ride. Get yourself ready."

He sighed, remembering that whatever hunt his dad was on had him worried. Drill Sergeant or not, he was still his dad and Sam was still his baby boy. John probably had a list of things that could happen to Sam walking to school on a normal day much less a day that was being stalked by an unknown supernatural entity making that list multiply.

But Sam hated riding in the truck with his dad. He'd practically grown up in the Impala so the Truck's interior felt foreign and wrong to him. Plus his dad liked to use it as a cage to trap Sam in for uncomforble conversations so that Sam wouldn't be able to get angry and storm out halfway through. Although more than once he thought about just opening the door and rolling out of the moving vehicle just to get away from the heated debate. Surely a few scratches and broken ribs would be worth it.

A few minutes after the truck started moving and pulled out of the motel parking lot it started.

"So. How's school." John rarely asked questions and just formed everything as a statement, a demand, leaving no options to say no.

"Fine." If his dad wasn't willing to share any information, neither was Sam.

"How are your grades."

"Good." Sam answered even though the voice in his head wanted to argue why did John care about his grades?

"Make any friends?"

Sam instantly thought of Gaybe but glared at his dad out of the corner of his eye instead. "No. What's the point? We'll be gone soon." The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them and remind himself he was only giving his dad one-word answers this morning. John must have picked up on the teenage malice in his voice however because he was silent the rest of the ride and didn't even say bye or have a nice day as most parents would when Sam jumped out of the truck's cab, slamming the door behind him.

He briskly walked into the cafeteria, missing the absence of his older brother beside him and hating the feeling in his gut that he got when he had to remind himself that he'd have to get used to that feeling for the remaining three years of high school.

Slinging his backpack onto the same table he'd sat at yesterday with a loud thump by the windows, that he always sat at, he glanced up at the clock in the corner. He'd been so busy trying to sneak a look at what his dad was up to and running to the store to try and get Dean to eat something in-between polishing knives that he had forgotten his algebra homework. For some reason when he'd left early, the knowledge that he wouldn't have any biology homework for missing that class overwrote the fact that he still had algebra homework to finish for Mr. Christener's imaginary dog to grade.

He had time to get at least half of it done, which was better than nothing so he unzipped the giant blue fabric and went to dig out the massive textbook. His hands met something soft, like cotton fabric at the bottom and he gripped the item, pulling it out.

In his hand he held Gaybe's Star Wars shirt that he had been wearing yesterday. How the hell had that gotten in there? He thought back to when he was leaving yesterday to how his locker had been open. Maybe Gaybe had mistaken their lockers on his first day here? But theres no way he would have mistaken his book bag too since he remembered Gaybe had a black messenger bag. And wasn't he wearing this very shirt in gym class yesterday because the coach didn't have time to get him a uniform before the bell rang? Sam stared at the t-shirt in his grasp not understanding in the slightest how it came into his possession. None of the facts made any sense and it made his head feel jumbled just trying to think about it.

"Is that my shirt?"

Sam jumped and looked up to see Gaybe sitting down across from him and grabbing the fabric from him.

"It iiiiiiis my shirt. I wondered where it went." Gaybe's voice rang out in a sing song tune that made it seem like he hadn't really wondered where his shirt vanished to. He leaned forward, raising an eyebrow. "Did you steal it?"

Sam sputtered. "Wha? What, no, of course I didn't! I don't know how it got there..."

"You're not a very good thief you know." Gaybe waved one finger in the air as if telling off a four year old for trying to eat a Lego. "You shouldn't have brought it back."

"But I didn't steal it! It just appeared in my book bag!" Sam protested.

"Right, right, because things just appear out of nowhere." Gaybe bit his bottom lip smiling, as if he was trying to hold back a laugh and he pressed the clothing article to his face and inhaled. "Mmmm it smells like you now."

Sam gaped, fully aware that his mouth was hanging open.

"Dude. That's weird."

Gaybe let out a laugh and Sam found himself liking the way he laughed. It sounded genuine, warm and friendly and calmed him although he still thought it was full out weird that a guy he'd barely met was sniffing a t-shirt because it spent the night in his backpack.

Glancing back at the clock Sam realized he'd stalled far too long and finished pulling his books out of his backpack that now held only his own possessions. Gaybe across from him plopped his own messenger bag onto the table and pulled out a manga while Sam worked.

He couldn't keep his hazel eyes from flickering up to the ginger brunette across from him absorbed in the Japanese comic and found himself trying to make light conversation that wouldn't distract him too much from his work.

"What're you reading?"

Gaybe looked up, flipping the paper back book closed to show Sam the cover.

"Angel Sanctuary."

"Is it interesting?" He asked as his eyes skimmed the line of numbers down the page in front of him of common denominators.

Gaybe sighed and rolled his olive eyes. "Yeees and its bullshit. Look at this." He put the manga down on top of Sam's work and tapped a picture of a women sitting in a chair in the middle of a black and white garden. "That's Jibril."

"Neat?" Sam raised an eyebrow wishing he'd get his book off his textbook. He only had 15 minutes left before 1st period.

Gaybe huffed, irritated. "It's supposed to be Gabriel. But the loony author made him a girl and calls it Jibril! Can you believe that? And she made Michael a midget! A Raphael a womanizer! Can you believe that?" He threw the offending book over his shoulder, not caring if it hit anyone or not. It landed with a loud plopping noise and lay open on the floor. Gaybe snickered. "Actually it's kind of funny...high and mighty Michael a midget...pfffffffffffft. But really...Gabriel a girl? Really?" He raised both his eyebrows and looked at Sam with what must be the kicked puppy dog expression Dean always mocked him for having.

"Well..." Sam looked back and forth between Gaybe's puppy eyes, the clock and his forgotten textbook. He chose Gaybe. "There's lots of lore that says Gabriel WAS the female arch angel."

"Yea well there's lots of lore that's bullshit."

Sam smiled at Gaybe's expression that changed from puppy left in the rain, to dejected puppy when mom brings home a new kitty as he continued to mutter obscenities about bullshit, the bible and cracked out Japanese novelists.

"Gaybe...hey, wait. Gaybe. Gaybe...riel? Were you named after the arch angel Gabriel?" Sam toke a guess at why a 14 year old would be offended by something as trivial as this.

Gaybe looked like he was about to say something but merely shut his mouth and grinned at Sam like the Cheshire cat and looking highly amused with himself.

The bell rang and Sam jumped up scrambling to shove all his work back into his bag muttering 'crap crap crap' over and over again. He looked up after successfully, and haphazardly, managing everything back inside even if the zipper wouldn't zip closed to see if Gaybe wanted to accompany him to class.

Except Gaybe was gone.

He stopped to scoop up the fallen manga Gaybe had earlier thrown, thinking that it was probably a library rental so he should return it even if its owner didn't seem to care and toke off to algebra class.

He walked into class, expecting to see Gaybe by the window so he could return the book but he was missing. Maybe he'd stopped by the bathroom?

But Gaybe didn't show at all during class.

Mr. Christener started walking around collecting everyone's homework and Sam dug out his wrinkled papers, still figuring that something was better than nothing, even if he only had a few questions finished.

However when he smoothed out the papers he had to take a double take. Flipping the papers back and forth, looking at both sides.

Both sides that were completely filled out and by the looks of it, 100% correct. When had he done this? He didn't have time to marvel it as it was pulled out of his grasp by the aging teacher and was left to sit there the rest of the class period, looking at Gaybe's empty seat and wondering if he was loosing his mind.

End Chapter 1

This was originally going to be a one shot but I got more into it than I thought I would and I'd like to flesh it out better so it'll have another chapter or 2 coming up. Although I'm sure you've all already figured out who Gaybe Norsen is and what John is hunting.