Sam Winchester was unhappy. He was more than unhappy, he was miserable. Miserable in the way that totally drains you so you can't even cry anymore, miserable in such a way that he did nothing but lie curled up on his horrid motel room bed, telling Dad and Dean to go away every time they tried to talk to him.

It had been an even worse week than usual. His life was bad enough already, in his opinion. He had no real home, no friends for longer than a week or so, and he was constantly arguing with his dad. He heard other kids at the schools he went to moaning cause their parents wouldn't let them have a new computer game or stay out late. Sam Winchester would have done anything to have those problems. In a way, despite how awful this week had been, it was almost nice to have a normal problem like the boys in his class picking on him. Had it been just that, he could have coped, but Dad was in a bad mood and drinking, yelling at he and Dean for any slightly disturbance. Sam knew he was just frustrated with the difficult case he was working, but it was still mean.

They were in Maryland, staying at a motel just a few blocks away from the local school where he and Dean had been sent. Well, schools. He didn't even have Dean as company, as he was attending the middle school, while Dean was at the high school. Instead, he was left with a bunch of boys with a habit of flicking elastic bands, and bitchy girls who took great enjoyment in commenting on his second-hand clothes.

Sam Winchester was lonely. He knew that was silly and kind of pathetic and Dean would tell him to buck up cause he was better than them anyway. He didn't know about that, but being the outcast just wasn't fun.

A less than enjoyable day at school had just ended and Sam trudged his way home- well not home, but back to the motel- scuffing trainers on the sidewalk and dragging his feet. He was no more eager to get back than he had been to go to school that morning, though he'd practically run out of the school gates, he'd soon slowed to this moping walk.

Hands stuffed in his pockets, he uninterestedly examined the streets as he walked. Maryland seemed nice enough, though a little dull. It was a small place, and beside the schools and main shops, there seemed to be nothing but dirt roads leading off round some fields. Through the trees, he could see the top of some building about a mile away. He'd seen an old sign driving into town that told him it was St Mary's convent, though apparently now abandoned. It did look old from what he could see, but something about it still had some appeal to him. It was one of those buildings that had character, he supposed.

Sighing, Sam sat down on a bench at the side of the road, slinging his bag onto the seat next to him. He ignored a couple of girls from his new class who giggled as they passed, commenting loudly on his baggy shirt and worn jeans (both hand-me-downs of Dean's). "He looks like he's homeless," the blonde girl said, her and her friend covering their mouths as they dissolved into hysterics and hurried off.

Sam scrunched his face up, determined not to look upset. They'd been short of money recently, and he'd been getting taller, but Dad had said they couldn't afford new clothes, so he'd had to roll the cuffs up on some of Dean's old stuff which was still a little big. "I wish you were homeless," he muttered, though the girl had long gone. "Then maybe you wouldn't find it so funny."

It was a little cold out, but Sam had his jacket, so he decided to stay on the bench a while to finish his homework. The other students had mostly passed by and gone home by now, and Dean had been chasing some girl in his year, so he had no reason to head back to the motel for a while.

He sat cross-legged, notebook balanced on his knee while he worked out maths equations. Sam actually found them quite easy, though the rest of the class had groaned when handed the assignment.

The air was slowly growing a little more chilly, but it hardly bothered him, though the breeze made his pages flutter. Though it was starting to get late, he would have been happy to stay there a while longer, but a crashing sound and distressed shouting from a block away made his jump up, clutching his books to his chest.

He hesitated only briefly before stuffing everything in his backpack, swinging it onto his shoulder and running toward where he could still hear the commotion. His mind was racing, wondering whether he should call Dean, call Dad. It could have been anything; a poltergeist, maybe, or a vengeful spirit, or...

What he found was surprising, though perhaps not supernatural. A house on the block was strangely sagging, one of the pillars outside its entrance broken, a large crack running up the wall. It looks dilapidated, though it was fairly modern and the houses either side were fine.

As Sam got closer, he could see a crowd of people looking up at it in disbelief. Neighbours had come out to look, one shaking his head to the distraught-looking man stood beside him. "I don't know what to tell you, Rich. Looks like severe structural damage. You must have spotted cracks in the wall or something. Why the hell didn't you get it checked out?"

"There was nothing," the other man insisted. "The house was fine. Absolutely fine."

Sam frowned, though a loud, piercing cry quickly caught his attention. He turned his head to find the girl who had commented on his clothes, sobbing into her hands beside what must have been her mother.

"There's no way you can live here, mate," the neighbour continued to tell her dad. By the looks of his tool belt, he worked as a builder. "It's completely unsafe."

Sam didn't know what to think. He had wished the girl homeless, and now, suddenly, she was. He wondered if he had made it happen, but quickly cast the idea aside as silly. Of course he couldn't have made it happen... right?

Feeling a little awkward watching the crying family, Sam hoisted his bag up his shoulder and moved on back to the motel.

Dean was in a foul mood when he returned. Something about missing meeting up with a girl because he'd been given detention. He'd forced a smile and greeted him "Hey, Sammy", but Sam could tell he was in no mood for conversation.

After finishing the last two questions on his homework and eating dinner (take-away, of course) with Dean, Sam had very little to do, so he sat on his bed reading until he felt tired enough to go to bed.

Crawling under the covers, he sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, eager to slip into unconsciousness to leave this day behind, but not particularly eager to start the next with another day at that horrid school.

He drifted close to sleep, squeezing his eyes shut tighter when he heard their father stagger in about one in the morning, grumbling as he threw his bag down. Sam pulled the covers right up over his head.

Morning came far too soon and before he knew it, Sam was trudging out of the door with Dean on their way to school.

"So the high school sucks, how's the middle school?" Dean said.

Sam shifted uncomfortably. He knew how his brother would react it he told him he was being bullied. He would sort it, no doubt, but not without isolating them even more. Sam wasn't sure which he preferred; bullying where people at least acknowledged his existence, or the wary, silent looks when people had seen what they could do to anyone who crossed them.

"It's okay," Sam replied.

They were heading down the road where the old convent was visible. Sam studied the points of its roof, visible above the treetops. He could see the cross, made of stone. The trees shifted in the breeze around it.

"Man, why the heck's it this cold in Autumn?" Dean moaned, turning the collar of his jacket up. "Damn crazy weather."

Sam rather liked the cold, actually. It made him feel awake, alert, powerful.

"Where are you going?"

Sam stopped, blinking himself back to reality to find himself halfway across the road toward the convent. He couldn't remember making any decision to do such a thing, and slightly startled, quickly scrambled back to the sidewalk where Dean was.

"Sorry," he blurted. "Got the way mixed up. Must have been thinking of our last school."

Dean frowned, but merely shrugged and carried on walking. Sam followed, though not without glancing over his shoulder several times.

By lunchtime, it was clear that this day of school would be no better than the last. He had been tripped in the corridor, had paper flicked at his head all through maths class, and the girl whose house has abruptly collapsed had been in an even more wretched mood, making nasty loud comments about him, and several other of the resident 'uncool' kids, to her friends.

Sam sat on the end seat of the table on his own. Occupying the other seats were two boys with trading cards, whom Sam had ascertained were not of the character to tease him and would allow him to sit near them, but made no great effort to speak to him either.

Sam wished he had a friend. He sometimes had friends at school. From school to school. Friends that were fun to be around, that he could share a laugh with, but could never get to know, and certainly couldn't allow to get to know him. Not really. And then he would have to move on, and he never saw his friends again. Sometimes, Sam just wanted to tell someone everything, to have someone be a real friend, to hear about the hunting, and what happened to his mother, and everything, and not look at him like he was a freak.

The light above him flickered and Sam snapped his head back, tensing as he watched the bulb flash before resuming its steady glow. It had caught the attention of the other students, but they all quickly shrugged it off, clearly presuming it was an electrical fault and nothing more. Sam frowned, examining the wire connected to the light. It did look rather old. There was no ectoplasm, no smell of sulphur. He told himself to stop worrying. There was- he had to remind himself sometimes- a normal world where lights flickered and it didn't mean danger.

Sam lowered his head. He sighed, but it caught in his throat with a jolt as he nearly jumped right out of his chair upon finding someone sat opposite him.

"It's alright."

He hadn't heard the man sit down. Why was he sitting with the students anyway? The teachers ate in the staffroom. Then again, he wasn't dressed like a teacher, nor did he look like one. Well, Sam supposed teachers didn't really look like anything, but he didn't give the vibe of someone about to give you homework. He didn't give any kind of vibe that Sam had felt before, though he knew he should have maybe been disturbed by the way the man was looking at him. He wasn't.

"Erm, hi," Sam said.

The man smiled. "Hello, Sam. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to come to you, but it's hard to get through."

Sam frowned, unsure what he meant. "Sorry?"

"Ssh," the man whispered, holding his finger to his lips. "It's okay. You don't have to speak aloud. I can hear your thoughts. I'm always listening for you, Sammy."

"What?" Sam heard giggling to his right, turning to find a group of girls on the next table laughing behind their hands at him.

"He talks to himself," one hissed to her friends, before they laughed all the louder.

Sam flushed and turned away, shoulders hunched.

"Don't mind them, Sam," the man continued. "You are something more special than they could ever understand."

Sam stared fixedly down at the tabletop. "They can't see you," he whispered. "I'm going mad."

"No, Sam," the man insisted. "You're right they can't see me, but that's because I'm not here for them. I'm here for you."

Despite his efforts, his gaze slid upward to look at the man again. "Are you a ghost?" he said. He glanced at the salt on the table.

The man smiled. "No. I'm a... projection. I'm sorry, Sam. I wish I could be here properly for you, but it's not time yet."

"Time for what?"

The girls giggled again.

The man shushed him. "In your head; it's okay," he reminded gently. "You'll know when the time comes," he said. "For now, I've come because you're lonely and sad, and I cannot allow that. Not when you are so wondrously close that you're within my reach."

What do you mean? It was strange to think his words, but sure enough, the man seemed to hear as perfectly as if he'd said them aloud.

"I can't tell you too much yet, Sam," the man said. "I wouldn't want to. Not yet. You're still so young. For now, just let me make you happy, Sam."

Who are you?

The man smiled. "For now, you can call me Hêlêl."

"Isn't that-" Isn't that a hebrew name?

Hêlêl smiled. "You are very clever, Sam. It's a Hebrew version of my name, yes. It means Morningstar."

The bell rang before Sam could think too much on that. The students around them instantly began gathering their things and making their way back to class.

Sam shuffled off his seat, picking up his rucksack. I... I have to go to class.

Hêlêl stood, moving to stand beside him. "Let's go then, Sammy."

Sam looked up at him. "You... You can't come with me."

Hêlêl chuckled softly, petting Sam's hair with one hand. The touch made his skin tingle.

"That's the thing about having a friend no one else can see, Sam," Hêlêl said. "I can come with you wherever you like."

Sam still looked unsure, but Hêlêl was a lot taller and stronger than him and he supposed he couldn't really stop him, so he led the way to his History class.

Hêlêl followed him right into the classroom and to his desk, the other students milling about them as if nothing was amiss. The teacher was stood at the front of the room, writing the day's topic on the board, entirely unaware of the strange man in her class.

Sam busied himself with opening his text book and gathering his paper and pen for the lesson. He was incredibly conscious of Hêlêl stood behind him, but when Hêlêl placed both hands gently on his shoulders, he found himself relaxing.

"That's not actually correct," Hêlêl whispered to him after a while, now kneeling so his icy breath tickled Sam's ear, arms resting on the back of his chair. "Your teacher there has a few details out of place."

Sam found himself no longer listening to the teacher as Hêlêl whispered in his ear stories of the actual events of the Roman empire, recounting them with the same detail as if it were a mere hour ago.

How do you know all that?

"I watched it happen. It was fascinating to see everything build up..." He paused, sighed. "Until humans tore it all down again in war. It is a shame, what destructive creatures you are."

Sam wasn't sure what to say at that, so instead he busied himself making notes from the board. Hêlêl said nothing, but spent the rest of the lesson stroking his hair as he worked until the bell rung and they made their way out and toward gym.

Hêlêl remained with him while he changed and followed him into the gymnasium, standing behind him, hands on his shoulders as he lined up with the other boys to be picked for teams.

Sam was quite good at sport, but regardless, talent meant very little in the high school social hierarchy and he knew he would be picked last.

Hêlêl noticed his downcast expression as the other boys were all selected around him. He knelt down to Sam's height, gently placing a hand on the back of his head and turning Sam to face him. "They are pathetic humans, Sammy. Don't let it bother you. You are above them."

Like was quickly becoming true with many things Hêlêl said, Sam wasn't sure what to think of that, and remained merely staring blankly at him until the coach snapped at him to join the blue team who were one player short.

They were playing basketball. Sam stood in one of the horrible blue school bibs, Hêlêl hovering behind him just outside of the court.

Sam couldn't help but feel happy about that. This wasn't a proper game, but he had occasionally played for the school team in various sports, or been in plays, or whatever else. He would look out and see everyone else's parents and family friends watching, cheering them on. Dean would be there for him, waving, but as much as Sam appreciated his brother's presence, he couldn't help wishing he could have more like the other students.

Hêlêl was here just for him.

The game began and though Sam felt more eager than he usually did for gym, his peers showed no enthusiasm to pass to him. Sam was fairly tall for his age, but no matter how much he jumped he couldn't grab the ball.

Sam was beginning to get frustrated. He stopped, shoulders sagging as he paused in the middle of the court, watching the ball fly over his head to another boy in a much worse position to catch it than he was.

The ball was set to fly right into the boy's waiting arms before it veered suddenly off course and slammed into the boy's face instead, throwing him onto his back. The ball rebounded off the floor and straight into Sam's hands.

For a few moments, Sam just blinked at it, before turning his head to look at Hêlêl, who smiled back.

"Come on, Winchester," the coach called. "Play on. Get moving!"

Sam jumped, bouncing the ball ahead of him as he headed down the court. He threw the ball to a teammate, running forward to get in a good place for the next pass. However, the boy now holding the ball purposefully blanked him, throwing it to another boy behind Sam, but the ball dipped abruptly in the air, just enough for Sam to catch it. He pivoted on the spot, throwing the ball up and straight into the net.

"Nice form, Winchester!"

Sam smiled, heading back to his position on the court. He caught Hêlêl's eye, who merely winked back at him.

"Did you do it?"

"Do what, Sammy?"

"Did you..." Sam shifted uncomfortably. "Did you make the ball hit that boy? Did you make the ball come to me instead?"

Hêlêl smiled. "They weren't treating you fairly, Sam. I merely evened the playing field."

Sam said nothing, facing forward as they walked down the street back to the motel. "How do you do it, though? Ghosts... Ghosts can make things move without touching them."

"I told you, Sam. I'm not a ghost."

"But you're not a human. You're... something."

"Does that have to be a bad thing?"

Sam considered it. They hunted the supernatural because it hurt people; angry spirits pushing people down stairs, demons going on killing sprees, vampires feeding on people. Hêlêl hadn't hurt anyone. Well, not really. The boy on the basketball court had deserved it, and it had only been a push.

"I guess not," he answered eventually. He looked up at Hêlêl. "Could other people see you if you wanted them to?"

"No," Hêlêl said. "Not in this state. I told you, it's difficult to come through."

"Why can I see you then?"

Hêlêl smiled down at him. "Because you and I share a special connection, Sam."

"What connection?"

"Again," Hêlêl said, "now is not the time for me to tell you. Stop worrying, Sam. I came to you to cheer you up."

Sam had more questions, but he didn't want to make his new friend angry with him, so he chose to drop the matter. "Are you gonna come all the way back to the motel with me?"

"Do you want me to?"

It was slightly alarming for Sam to realise just how much he did. "Yes. Please."

Hêlêl put a gentle arm around his shoulders. "Then of course I will."

Dean wasn't back yet when they entered the motel room. Sam left his bag on the sofa, unzipping his jacket whole Hêlêl hovered over him. He spent a purposeful amount of time hanging it up, before shyly turning to face the other. "Erm, what shall we do?"

"What do you want to do, Sammy?"

Sam wasn't sure. He'd never had a friend round to play before, though Hêlêl was an adult and probably wouldn't want to play some silly kid's game anyway. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I usually just read when I get home from school."

"You can read if you wish."

Sam shuffled on his feet. "Won't you get bored? I..." He pressed his lips together, unable to find a suitable way of saying he didn't want to give Hêlêl a reason to want to leave.

"It's alright, Sammy," Hêlêl said, kneeling down to his height, having apparently sensed his apprehension. "I'm not going anywhere. I can sit merely sit with you while you go about your normal business, or we can do something together. Whatever makes you happy, Sam."

Sam was rarely given such a choice. He and Dean sometimes played cards or paper games, but his brother had little tolerance for some things Sam enjoyed.

Sam glanced over at the duffel bag at the side of the room. It travelled with them, containing a few things he and Dean couldn't fit in their own bags of clothes and toiletries. Dean's things were magazines and boxing gloves and a few tools for fixing the Impala, while Sam still toted around some old toys and games, though he wasn't sure whether Dean or Dad would laugh at him for still wanting to play with such things at the age of eleven.

"I have a chess set," Sam suggested cautiously. "I tried to get Dean- that's my brother- to play it with me, but he said it was too complicated. Do you know how to play chess?"

For a few moments, Hêlêl just stared at him. His gaze made Sam feel somehow violated. It was like Hêlêl was reading his thoughts, but his friend soon smiled and nodded and Sam felt reassured.

He found the chess set and laid it out on the table, placing all the pieces carefully out on the board. "Do you wanna be black or white?" he asked Hêlêl.

"I am rather fond of white," Hêlêl said, taking the seat opposite him.

They had both taken four of the other pieces when Dean returned, lugging two bags of shopping.

"Hey, little brother, spaghetti okay for dinner?"

"Yeah, great," Sam said distractedly, arms folded on the table as he stared intently down at the board, contemplating his next move.

Dean deposited the bags on the counter and frowned over at his brother with clear confusion. "Why are you playing chess by yourself?"

Sam paused, glancing at Hêlêl, then his brother. He wished he could introduce his new friend to his brother; maybe they could all play a game together. But when he looked back at Hêlêl, he was shaking his head, his expression sombre.

"I'm just practicing," Sam said.

Dean pulled a face, but shrugged, turning away to sort out the shopping. "Whatever."

"Sorry, Sam," Hêlêl said. "But like I told you, I'm here for you alone."

"I-" Sam cut himself off when Dean glanced over again, covering his mistake with a cough. When Dean turned away again, he continued in his head. I know, but Dean's my brother and we're really close. I tell him everything.

"That's good, Sam," Hêlêl replied. "But I'm afraid you can't tell him about this. It's okay. He just wouldn't understand is all."

He might, Sam suggested hopefully. Big brothers always try to understand.

"Not always," Hêlêl said, sounding surprisingly dejected.

Sam hoped he hadn't made him mad. "Do you have a brother?"

Hêlêl moved a piece on the board before replying. "I have lots of brothers, and lots of sisters, too. But I do have a very special big brother, just like yours."

Where is he? Can he maybe come visit, too?

There was a bitter quality to Hêlêl's smile suddenly. "No," he said. "He doesn't really like me anymore."

...Oh. Sam frowned. That was a sad idea. He couldn't imagine how he would feel if Dean ever didn't like him. I'm sorry. Why not?

Hêlêl raised and lowered one shoulder in a lazy shrug. "We disagreed on some things."

Having put the shopping away, Dean headed toward the bathroom. Sam watched him go, waiting until the door was closed before jumping up from his chair and hurrying round to the other side of the table to put his arms around Hêlêl.

There was a brief hesitation, as if Hêlêl almost couldn't remember what to do with a hug. But eventually, his arms came around Sam, too, and Sam could have sworn that, briefly, there were wings surrounding him, too.

Hêlêl had sat by his bed when he went to sleep, and was there when he woke up in the morning.

Sam offered him some breakfast, but Hêlêl said he didn't need to eat, so instead waited patiently for Sam to finish before they walked to school together.

Dean wasn't with them this morning. Dad had woken him early, saying he needed his help on a hunt so he was skipping school for the day. Dean had made breakfast for Sam, reminded him of the safety precautions their father had instilled in them years ago, and left with Dad in the Impala, promising he'd be back to make Sam dinner.

Usually Sam hated when Dean had to go hunting too. Especially when he was at a rubbish school like this one, it was nice to at least enjoy his brother's company before having to go to class. However, today it wasn't so bad, because he had Hêlêl.

"So what lesson do you have first today, Sammy?"

Sam reached into his jacket pocket and took out the paper timetable he'd been given on his first day. "Religious Studies," he read off the page. He frowned. "The teacher's really strict. She went to one of those school's taught by nuns so she teachers things really by the Bible."

"Well that's silly," Hêlêl said. "Because the Bible's all wrong anyway."

"Is it?" Sam looked up at him curiously. "How do you know?"

Hêlêl just smiled in response.

Once they got to class, Sam flicked through the copy of the Bible that was handed out to each student, wondering just how much was wrong like Hêlêl said.

The teacher, the straight-backed and stern-faced Ms. Manners was busy writing on the board about the seven deadly sins.

"There are lots of ways you can sin," she said. "Many things represent these seven and people don't even realise. Greed, for example, was Satan's sin. He wanted more, to be more than God."

"No."

Sam jumped slightly in his chair, alarmed by the sudden malice in Hêlêl's voice. He twisted his head to look at him in shock, eyes wide.

Hêlêl was positively glaring at the woman, but seeing Sam's face, he seemed to force himself to take some semblance of control and smiled reassuringly. "Sorry, Sam. This woman is even more ignorant than I thought. Though sadly, many are."

It's okay. He sensed that Hêlêl was still angry, so he reached out and took his hand, ignoring the bewildered look from the girl on the next desk.

Hêlêl seemed to appreciate the touch, kneeling down so he could speak to Sam either.

What did Satan want then? Sam wondered curiously.

"Nothing but what was fair," Hêlêl said. "But he was treated very unfairly."

But he's the Devil, Sam frowned. So I thought he was bad.

Hêlêl shook his head. "Just because people tell you something is bad, Sammy, doesn't mean that is necessarily the case."

Sam supposed that was true. People said he was weird and strange, but that didn't make it so, right? At least Sam had always hoped not.

He kept hold of Hêlêl's hand and squeezed it tight for the rest of the lesson.

The next two days were some of the most enjoyable times Sam had ever experienced. Hêlêl sat with him at school, whispering in his ear added details to all his lessons, or stroking his hair with such affection that it made Sam blush. When they returned to the motel, they would play chess, or sit together while Sam read, making sure to think the words clearly in his head so Hêlêl could enjoy the story, too. On their third night together, Sam even worked up the courage to ask Hêlêl to sit in bed with him, snuggling down in his friend's lap where he drifted into the most comfortable sleep he could remember.

"Why are you so happy?" Dean asked him at breakfast.

"I made a friend," Sam said. "We get on really well."

"Yeah?"

Sam nodded. "It's like... like he really understands me."

Dean looked a little surprised by the comment, but shrugged and smiled, reaching across the breakfast table to ruffle his brother's hair. "In that case, I'm happy for you, Sammy."

Sam was happy, too. So much so that he was smiling all the way to school, holding Hêlêl's hand as they walked, only vaguely listening to Dean fill him in about how Dad was getting on with the hunt.

They had Religious Studies again today, with the horrid bossy teacher who Hêlêl said got almost everything wrong. He told Hêlêl that he could tell him all the right things instead, but his friend just smiled in response.

When they got to class, there was a substitute teacher waiting.

"Where's Ms. Manners?" a boy asked, just as Sam was wondering the same thing.

Their substitute, a tall, skinny man, sighed, shaking his head. "I'm afraid Ms. Manners had an accident at home. Poor dear took a fall right from the top of the stairs, so she won't be teaching you for a while."

Sam tensed, looking up at Hêlêl who winked back at him. Sam bit his bottom lip, turning away and sliding into his chair.

"You seem troubled, Sammy."

Sam shifted uncomfortably, looking out at the school yard they were sat at the edge of, under a large tree. Dean had made him lunch this morning, so Sam had decided to eat outside where he could talk to Hêlêl properly.

He placed his sandwich down, raising his head. "Did you make Ms. Manners fall down the stairs?"

Hêlêl showed no signs of being uncomfortable at such a question. "Does it matter?"

Sam stared down at the grass. "That's not very nice, Hêlêl," he muttered.

"But she never treated you very nicely," Hêlêl pointed out. "Like the boys on the basketball court, or the girl that made fun of you."

Sam slowly raised his head. "That was you?" he said cautiously. He had wondered, but he hadn't wanted to ask in case he had it all wrong. "You wrecked her house?"

"It was what you wanted."

"I... I didn't mean it literally. I didn't really think it would happen."

"I can make things happen for you, Sammy."

"No." Sam shook his head. "Please, Hêlêl, I don't want you to hurt anyone. It's okay."

"It's just fair, Sam. I would not harm anyone anymore than they deserve. But people who do bad things should be punished, don't you think?"

Sam supposed he had a point. Sam wanted to be a lawyer when he grew up because he liked things to be fair. Sam believed in justice. He believed that one day he would get a nice, normal life like he deserved, that they would find what had killed their mother, that Dean and Dad would be happy.

"I like things to be fair," Sam said eventually. "But please, Hêlêl, no more, okay?"

"Whatever you say, Sammy." His friend smiled, reaching over and brushing Sam's hair back from his face. "But there is nothing wrong with a little divine justice."

"Divine?" Sam knew vaguely what the word meant. It was to do with higher powers, something above.

Hêlêl smiled. "Yes, Sammy, divine. I am an angel, after all."

Sam's eyes went wide. "An angel?" That reassured him. Angels couldn't be bad.

Hêlêl nodded. "Your own personal guardian angel, Sammy."

Sometimes Hêlêl said strange things and worried him, but none of that mattered when Dad came home drunk and yelled at him for not having put the latch on the door properly. Dean told him it wasn't his fault and made him hot chocolate after dinner, by which time Dad had sobered up and gone out on the job again.

Sam felt miserable and got out the chess set, laying all the pieces out neatly.

"You know I don't know how to play that, Sam," Dean said.

"I'm not going to play with you," Sam replied firmly. "I'm playing with Hêlêl."

Dean frowned. "Who's Hêlêl?"

"My friend."

"You invited someone over?"

Sam shook his head. "No, he's already here. You just can't see him."

Dean said nothing, though his eyes had gone wide, but Sam ignored him in favour of contemplating his next move. Hêlêl had taken one of his knights already and he wanted to make just as good a maneuver.

There was a whiny, screeching noise, and Sam looked up to find Dean had taken out the EMF meter. It was spiking rapidly, the needle straining as Dean looked alarmed.

"It's okay, Dean," Sam said. "He's not a ghost. He's an angel."

"There's no such thing, Sam." Dean was frowning down at the EMF meter. "I salted the doors and windows," he said.

"Angels aren't bothered by salt, Dean."

"There aren't any angels, Sam," Dean said firmly.

Sam looked up at him with a pout. "You're just jealous," he declared. "Cause I have a guardian angel and you don't."

Dean told Dad when he got back. The two of them spent a while frowning at the EMF meter and muttering, while Sam ignored them, snuggled up against Hêlêl in front of the TV.

"Sam," their father said, sitting down on the nearby armchair and looking at him sternly. "Turn that off. I want to talk to you."

Sam sighed, but pressed the power button on the remote, nonetheless.

"I want to know about your friend, Sam."

Sam looked up at Hêlêl who smiled back, an arm around his shoulders. Sam shuffled closer to him before answering. "Okay."

"So, your friend is here? Right now?"

Sam nodded.

"You know Dean and I can't see anything, right?"

"I know," Sam said. "But he's my friend. Only I can see him."

"You remember the ghosts we've hunted-"

"He's not a ghost," Sam cut in. "He's an angel."

They didn't seem to believe him, and Sam found himself being made to swallow salt and holy water, as well as watching his father throw salt where Sam told him Hêlêl was. Sam grinned in amusement, watching Hêlêl brush the salt off himself with a roll of his eyes.

Eventually, his father sighed, seeming almost disappointed. "Sam, I know it's hard moving around like this, but you can make friends if you try. Real friends."

"Hêlêl is my real friend."

"Dad," Dean spoke up. "Should I get the rock salt gun?"

Their father shook his head. "I don't think that's necessary, Dean."

"But what is it?"

Sam watched their father stand up and lead Dean across the room to talk to him privately.

"I don't think it's anything," he said. "Sammy's never been happy with all this moving around. I think he just wants a bit of attention. Have you been ignoring him lately?"

"No," Dean insisted. "But what are you saying? That he's making it up? What about the EMF meter?"

"There are power lines nearby," their father said. "The room's secure. I've done all the checks. Let him have his little imaginary friend if it makes him feel better."

Dean frowned. "You always told me imaginary games were stupid."

Their father declined to comment, heading back to the table to continue his research. "I've nearly cracked this case," he said to them both. "But I want to get on. Get yourselves to bed, both of you."

Dean obediently headed toward his bed, though not without muttering angrily as he undressed. Sam followed, jumping up off the sofa and over to his own bed.

He crawled under the covers as Hêlêl sat on the edge of the mattress beside him.

"Go to sleep, Sammy," Hêlêl said. "I'll be right here when you wake up."

Sam smiled, shuffling closer so Hêlêl was within touching distance. He closed his eyes, drifting off to a voice whispering in a language he didn't understand.

"I wish you could meet Dean and my Dad," Sam said. "Properly, I mean. I think Dean would like you."

Hêlêl shrugged, holding Sam's hand as they walked to school, sans Dean who had been taken hunting again. "I'm sure your family is... nice, Sam, but like I said, I'm only here for you."

Sam had to admit, he was flattered by that idea. There were very few things that ever happened just for him, so that Hêlêl only seemed to care about him gave him a selfish sense of happiness that he couldn't quite bring himself to feel bad about.

Hêlêl made him feel special. Not in the way that Dean did, or a teacher when he did well in class. Hêlêl made him feel special simply for being him.

Sam imagined this was what having a girlfriend- or a boyfriend, he supposed- would be like. Hêlêl made him blush, made his stomach flutter, and Sam found himself doodling Hêlêl's name down the side of his notes in class.

"Hearts, Sammy," Hêlêl commented. "I'm honoured."

Sam tinged pink slightly, unable to look at him. Well I love you, Hêlêl.

"I love you too, Sammy. More than you know."

They spent the school lunch break sat at the edge of the school fields again. Once he'd finished eating, he lay back on the grass with Hêlêl, looking up at the clouds as they passed.

A couple of other student passed by, giggling and commenting to each other as they pointed at him, but Sam just didn't care anymore. What did they know? He had a guardian angel and they didn't.

"Is Heaven really up there?" he asked.

"Yes," Hêlêl said. "Larger than you can imagine."

"Can you see it?"

Hêlêl's smile faltered a little. "Not anymore."

"Why?" Sam asked, leaning up on his elbows and looking over at his friend.

Hêlêl merely shook his head, declining to answer and instead leaning across and pressing his lips against Sam's.

Sam was too shocked to respond, mouthing hanging open a little, but Hêlêl didn't seem to mind.

"You are too beautiful, Sam." Hêlêl lay back down beside him, turning onto his side so he could see him properly. "You're going to be perfect."

"For what?"

"That doesn't matter for now."

Sam agreed. Nothing mattered for now. He didn't care about hunting, or schoolwork, or being popular. He cared about Hêlêl and that they would be together forever.

Dad and Dean returned a little cut up and bruised, but smiling.

"Alright, we finally got that son of a bitch," Dean exclaimed, throwing his jacket over the arm chair. "Man, you got of give some of these monsters credit, they're tricky bastards."

"Never give a monster any credit, Dean," their father said, brushing himself off. "Hurry up and take a shower so I can go in after you. Then get packing. There's what looks like a wendigo going round a couple of states away so we need to get a move on."

Sam pushed himself up from where he'd been lying on his bed reading, Hêlêl beside him. We're moving on, he told his friend. Dad likes us to be packed quickly, so I better get on. You can sit in the back of the car with me. Our car's a classic, you know.

Hêlêl simply nodded, though there was a strained quality to his smile. Sam thought maybe angels weren't used to traveling in cars so he was unsure about it, but he was sure Hêlêl would enjoy road tripping with them, so he brushed it off and went about gathering his things.

Dean returned, freshly-showered to join him in packing, while their father disappeared into the bathroom, gathering both their bags and taking them out to the car. Sam was about to follow when Hêlêl stopped him, pulling Sam around to face him in the now empty motel room.

"Listen, Sammy."

Sam frowned, watching as Hêlêl knelt down before him so they were eye-to-eye. "What?"

"I'm afraid there's something I have to tell you, Sam." Hêlêl paused to brush Sam's hair back from his face, gaze running over him affectionally. "I can't go with you, Sammy."

"What?" Tears sprung to Sam's eyes. "No. No, you have to come. Please."

Hêlêl sighed. "Believe me, Sammy. I wish more than anything I could. I'd like nothing more than to watch over you until you're ready, but it's out of my hands. I told you about how hard it is to come through, and I can only get to you now because you're so wonderfully close to me. But as you get further away, I won't be able to follow."

"No. No."

"Yes, Sam," Hêlêl said gently. "Don't cry now. It'll be okay. Because one day..." He sighed again, as if talking of a wonderful dream, like someone imaging their perfect life. "One day, you'll come back to me. And then you'll be ready. And then, I can tell you everything, and all this will make sense and you'll understand."

"What?" Sam's voice was thick, choked with tears. "No, I want to understand now. What are you talking about, Hêlêl?"

But Hêlêl merely shushed him, pressing a finger to his lips. "Hush, Sam. It is too much to put on you now. When the time is right."

Sam shook his head, reaching for Hêlêl's hand, gasping when he saw it seemed to be fading. He could almost see right through his friend.

"It's okay, Sam," Hêlêl insisted. "I've indulged in spending so much time with you; my power is waning a little now. I can't keep up this projection much longer. So listen to me before I have to go."

Sam nodded shakily.

Hêlêl smiled. "God boy. My Sammy. My friend. My..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "In time," he declared. "For now, I just need you to know. I need you to know that I love you, that I will always love you. And that when you finally come back to me, I'll be waiting. And then, I will give you everything, Sam. Anything you want. I want you to be happy, Sam."

"But..." Sam sniffed, trying to compose himself. "When will that be? When will I know?"

"It will happen," Hêlêl insisted. "Everything will play out just as it's supposed to. And you will say yes to me, I'm sure of it."

"I'll do anything you want, Hêlêl," Sam said quickly. "I'll say yes to anything you want me to."

Hêlêl's eyes seemed to glitter at those words, but he merely smiled at Sam and refused to elaborate. "You don't know how much that means to me, Sam," he said instead. "Now come along, I'll walk you out to your car."

Sam wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, snuffling, but determined to be brave for his friend as they headed outside, hand-in-hand.

Dean was already waiting in the passenger seat, going through the box of tapes to pick their music for the journey. The motel room door opened again just as Hêlêl was helping Sam into the back of the car, their father not bothering to spare them a glance as he deposited the rest of the luggage in the boot.

"I'll see you soon, Sam," Hêlêl said, leaning down and pressing a last, gentle kiss to Sam's forehead, before he pushed the car door closed.

Sam pressed his palms to the window, forehead against the glass almost as if he were trying to step right through it, as the engine started and the Impala slowly made it's way out onto the road.

Sam leant over the seat to see out the back window, watching as Hêlêl's figure got further away in the distance. Just before the car turned the corner and he was out of sight, Sam gasped as he seemed to evaporate into thin air. He quickly tilted his head upward, wondering if he could see angel wings shining somewhere up toward Heaven, but the late afternoon sky remained clear.

Eventually, Sam turned round in his seat, feeling drained as he leant back against the upholstery, eyes damp, and with a sudden sensation of emptiness, like someone had cut him in two. He shook of Dean's queries as to whether he was okay, staring out the window and the world floating by them, wondering when he would see Hêlêl again and what Hêlêl wanted him to agree to.

Whatever it was, at that moment, Sam had no doubts in his mind that he would say yes.