This was definitely the worst day of Sam's life. Well, excluding the day his mom died, of course, because even though he didn't remember her he still wished he had a mother. But this was a pretty close second! The 12-year-old stared in horror at the woman standing in front of him, who had an oh-so-clear smile on her face. A smile that definitely meant something horrible and probably painful was in store for Sam. Great, only two weeks into knowing the supernatural existed and he was already captured by a witch. A damn witch!

She didn't look like the typical story-book witch, Sam couldn't help but notice- probably because his defense mechanism so far seemed to be "don't think about the danger." She was actually quite pretty. Wavy dark hair that almost seemed like it was navy blue when the light hit it, and brown eyes that had shades of lighter colors inside them. Her face was void of any moles or warts, and her nose was petite rather than bulging from her face like a bowling ball. And her body... well it seemed like the kind of thing that would get his older brother's attention. Not that Sam really should have been surprised about the woman's looks, if he were a witch he would have made himself hot too. Why have magic if you can't use it to your advantage? And if she looked like a stereotypical witch, no one would trust her.

But Sam would be damned if people didn't trust a pretty woman- especially one feigning distress. Which was probably how she was getting the hex bags into mens' cars. Pretending her car broke down, or acting like a helpless hitchhiker. Those who didn't do it out of the kindness of their hearts for a poor stranger did it because the seemingly poor stranger was hot and they were probably thinking of some form of payment she could get them back with. Not like that ever happened. They were dead within an hour of the hex bag being placed, all of them in car accidents that could seem like random tragedies to anyone but the untrained eye. The cars were usually too totaled for anything but the junkyard, so no one ever found the hex bags, and what would anyone do even if they found one? It was horrifying and creepy, but no one would be willing to believe someone would actually preform witchcraft on someone. Most human minds were incapable of grasping such a subject in anything more than fairytales.

How had Sam even got himself into this situation? All he'd done was walked downstairs to the soda machine. He just wanted a damn Coke! But in the span of the two minutes and thirty-seven seconds (Dean had counted earlier) he'd managed to get drugged, and taken away by a witch. That couldn't be a coincidence. This woman had to know who he was, and that it was his father that was hunting her right now. Which meant whatever she was about to do, was going to hurt. A lot.

Her sudden movement snapped him out of his thoughts, the bracelets on her arm making a soft chiming sound as they hit each other. She was currently drawing something in the dirt with a stick, and if he weren't tied to a tree right now he might have thought she was playing the child's game where you drew pictures in the sand.

Sam tried once more to reason with her, but all the words were muffled against the gag she'd long since put in his mouth when she realized how loud he could yell. Not that it mattered anymore, Sam was pretty sure they were too far into a woods for anyone to hear them. At least, no one who gave a damn about the twelve year old probably about to die. Anyone close enough to hear would scurry off and be grateful they weren't him. Because that was how people worked. They looked out for themselves, before anyone else. And while sometimes Sam agreed with it, other times he was left baffled at how greedy and awful humanity could be.

He watched in absolute horror as she took a step closer to him. He wanted to back up, but his back was already pressed too roughly to the back of the tree behind him. He was virtually trapped. His heart pounded in his ears and he silently began screaming for Dean and his father, hell for anyone, to come save him. She stopped when she was standing right in front of him, kneeling down so she could meet his eyes head on. The smirk on her face was far from the sweet smile she'd tried to pull on him when they first met.

"Can you come outside with me for a moment? I need a second set of hands to keep my hood up while I see what's wrong with it."

"I think my brother would get mad at me if I don't get back... sorry."

He caught a shiny glint out of the corner of his eye and he didn't need to turn his head to know that it was most definitely a knife. Oh shit. Oh shit. Immediately, he began babbling again through the gag to try and convince her to stop. He wasn't even sure what he was saying, and she couldn't hear it through the gag, so it was worthless all on its own. Stupid gag. Stupid creatures. Stupid everything! He was going to die out here, and he knew it. No Dean to save him, no dad, no anyone.

"This will teach your daddy to stop messing with me, now won't it?" She asked tauntingly, her sugary voice sounding sickening when paired with the horrifying words.

Sam struggled against the cuffs behind his back, rubbing his wrists until they were raw from the cool metal. He wanted to tell her no, that his dad wasn't going to learn just because she killed him. In fact, it would probably only fuel him further, like it did with the yellow eyed demon. But he couldn't say anything. Not only from the gag, but because he was so terrified that his voice was literally not working anymore. How lovely.

She moved the blade quickly, slicing along his arm and smirking proudly at the cry of pain that escaped the small male. She caught the blood that flowed out, and Sam realized with a sickening feeling in his stomach that this was far from over. His dad always taught him not to show these things fear, or anything fear. But hell, this was not what he was prepared for! He barely even knew these things existed, much less how to deal with them. He hadn't learned that much yet. And she was much stronger than he was.

Sammy. He heard a voice whisper. For a moment, he thought it was the witch. But it couldn't be. The voice was too low. Sam looked at the woman cautiously, but her back was turned away from him. So... who was it? He looked around, but saw no one. Dean maybe? Though the voice didn't seem to resemble his brothers too much.

Sammoose, I need you to do something. The voice said, and Sam was almost sure he was imagining it at this point. Great, going crazy right before he died. He wondered if that was the way it went with all Winchesters- or hunters in general- or if it was just him. He didn't know which one he was hoping for.

Nonetheless, he found himself listening for the voice's next appearance. It was soothing, in a really weird way. The tone was gentle, almost like it was speaking to a frightened animal, which Sam admitted was probably what he seemed like right now with how badly he was shaking. She was a witch, she had the power to do absolutely anything to him, and he had no idea how to even defend himself against that.

Close your eyes Sammoose, okay? Don't open them until I say. The voice replied, almost as if it was clear Sam was listening. In response, the pre-teen shut his eyes tightly. He didn't know why he bothered listening to a voice, but there wasn't much else he could do. And if the voice might possibly be able to help, then why not give it a shot? Not like he had any other options here, especially if he was listening to a talking tree by the sound of it.

There was a bright flash that burned through Sam's eyelids, but Sam kept them closed. He didn't know what was happening, but he wasn't sure he wanted to.

"You can open your eyes now kiddo." The voice suddenly said, only now, it seemed much closer. Not the whisper it seemed to be previously. Hesitantly, Sam opened his eyes, peeking out at the mysterious presence.

The first thing he noticed, was that the witch was gone. As if she'd never been there in the first place. The second thing he noticed, was the boy standing in front of him. He looked around Dean's age, maybe a little younger. Freshly 15 at most. He had brown hair and dark eyes that were looking directly at him with a mixture of curiosity and worry. Yet his overall appearance was calm, letting Sam know the danger was most likely gone now... thankfully.

The strange boy untied the gag, and Sam let out a soft sigh in content at the stupid thing being removed. His mouth hurt like all hell. He licked the corners of his mouth, wincing when he felt how raw they were. "Where is she?" He asked, his voice sounding hoarse.

"Taken care of." He replied simply, and Sam wasn't entirely sure that's what he wanted to hear. A more specific answer would have been better, but the older boy didn't seem to be willing to do so just yet. If at all.

"Who are you?" Sam prodded gently, trying to get a grasp on the situation. Unlike his slightly-more-reckless older brother, he was much more analytical. He wanted to see if there was a chance that this guy was planning on finishing the witch's job.

"Gabriel." He replied with a lopsided grin. It looked much more attractive than Sam would have liked to admit. He fought the urge to look at the ground, knowing that taking his eyes of- Gabriel, might be a bad idea.

"How do you know my name?" He asked testingly, his throat aching slightly. How long was he out? He was thirsty.

Gabriel didn't even blink, if anything his smile widened slightly at the question, although Sam had no idea why that would have happened. Did he say something funny?

"Nice observation Sam-o." He complimented. "I'm your guardian angel. Well, I'm a lot of peoples' guardian angel, but you're the most interesting." He responded.

Before Sam could challenge the statement the older boy snapped his fingers, and Sam felt the cuffs disappear. He immediately pulling his hands in front of him, rubbing his scuffed up wrists. There was a small trickle of blood from him struggling so much and he noticed Gabriel's smile fade for a moment as he seemed to take in Sam's bruised appearance.

"Dean doesn't believe in angels." Sam told him slowly, as if that disproved what the older boy said. He was mostly trying to wrap his head around what was going on.

"Yeah, I'm aware. But you believe in us. You pray a lot." Gabriel replied distractedly, taking Sam's hand and holding it up as he tsked at the rubbed-raw wrists.

Sam didn't respond to that. It was true. He often found himself praying- especially as of recently. Praying for his dad to come back safe from his "job," praying for Dean to just smile something other than the flirty smile he got around girls, praying that there family would survive whatever revenge-filled rant his dad was on, and pretty much everything else. Until now he'd never gotten a response, although he felt a bit of joy in his chest whenever Dean really smiled.

Gabriel snapped his fingers again with the slight shake of his head and almost as quickly as the cuffs disappeared, so did the bruises. And the scratchy feeling in his throat. He took a deep breath, happy when it didn't make his throat feel as if it were on fire. He gave Gabriel a timid smile, one that Gabriel returned easily.

"Come on, how about we get you back to your family. Sound good?" Gabriel asked, his tone suggesting he was talking to a scared kitten. Sam nodded. He didn't know where he was, and he was pretty sure he couldn't find his way out on his own.

"Does everyone have a guardian angel?" Sam asked as they walked. Gabriel paused for a moment, turning his head to look at the only-slightly-shorter boy.

"Technically yeah. It depends on the day of the week you were born. But Micheal and Lucifer are both in the cage, and I don't do much rescuing since I left. I don't know about the others." He replied, his voice sounding torn.

"Left Heaven?" Sam asked, trying to keep his mind off the fact that he was following a complete stranger (Claiming to be an angel, nonetheless) into what could very well be further into the forest.

"Yeah. I couldn't stand watching what they were becoming. So I left. Became a trickster- a pretty powerful one considering I'm an archangel." Gabriel replied, attempting to change the subject.

Sam tensed slightly. Trickster? Dean had told him that those were pretty bad. They killed people all the time! Gabriel must have noticed his tension because a moment later a knife fell into the archangels hand. Sam took a step back, watching warily. To say he was surprised when the older boy placed the knife in his hand would have been an understatement.

"That's an angel blade. It can kill anything, even me." Gabriel replied to the confused kid. "You gotta aim for a place that would kill a human though, not like the leg or anything. If you think I'm about to hurt you, then use it."

Sam nodded slowly, clutching the knife tightly in his hand. "Why..."

"Because I trust you, and I don't like the way you're looking at me like I'm that witch you just nabbed ya." He responded easily, giving him that smile again. This time, Sam's smile was less shy.

* * * *

When they got to the motel, Sam was standing a lot closer to Gabriel than previous, the knife in the pocket of his hoodie, although he didn't expect to have to use it. Gabriel wasn't innocent, but he was far from a random attacker. The only time Sam had caught him doing something the entire way to the motel was when the grouchy store owner tripped on a rug after shoving a kid out to the sidewalk. And that was well deserved.

Dean hugged the crap out of him when he stepped through the door, giving Gabriel a distrusting look. Gabriel only held his hands up to show he meant no harm.

"Dean!" Sam frowned. "Gabe saved me." He said quickly, to keep Dean from yelling the other boy out of the building. Dean gave Gabriel a surprised look.

"Are you a hunter?" Dean asked slowly, giving Sam a protective look. He always gave Sam that look, as if he was something like what their father should be.

"Something like that. By the way, the witch is taken care of, no need to stick around looking for nothing." He replied in slight amusement. "Bye Sam." He added, giving Sam a small wave before turning.

Sam waved slightly before remembering. "Wait, your knife!" He called, but Gabriel only gave him a wink from the doorway.

"I'll just get it back from you next time. Just make sure you take care of it for me, alright?" He asked, before disappearing down the hall. Dean scowled, but Sam didn't even notice, too busy grinning over the fact that Gabriel just said, 'Next time.'

He wondered if Dean would be able to explain why Sam's stomach was doing weird flips. Maybe it was just an angel thing?