SAMMY
Always the smallest.
Always picked on.
Always cheated.
Until Sammy came to town. For some reason, Sammy defended him. Stood up for him. Tried to show him "a better way".
He found himself listening. Changing. Becoming happier.
Until Sammy vanished. Not a word. Not a trace.
The defending stopped. The cruelty returned - worse than ever.
He grew. He wed. Had children. Threw himself into business. Learned that cheaters did, in fact, prosper. Very, very much so.
There was nothing he wouldn't do for his business. Up to and including murder. Larceny. Sexual blackmail.
If it got him ahead, what else mattered?
Finding himself in Hell wasn't much of a surprise. Finding himself able to embrace the power in Hell was a bit of one, yes.
So he rose through the ranks. He became Hell's best businessman.
And more.
After that whole unpleasant business with the Apocalypse was come and gone, he found himself in a too-familiar churchyard, gathering too-familiar bones. Once he'd secreted them somewhere safe, he returned to the churchyard.
He'd glimpsed something during the showdown with Moose and Squirrel. Something that wouldn't let him alone until he checked it out.
He walked over to the grave and put his hand on top of it. A jolt of power and the weathered words revealed themselves clearly.
SAMUEL LYWELLEN
1648-1657
"...so that's where you went," he whispered. His eyes flared bright red as he used his power to see into the grave.
And found a child's skeleton awash with broken bones and a caved-in skull.
The next time he met with Castiel, he informed him, "You owe me a favour. I'm cashin' 's a kid - I need to know if he's in your neck of the woods."
"For what purpose?"
"Information, you feathered moron! Just find out!"
Two weeks later, an angel appeared at his gate. He went out himself to see what she wanted.
"I bear a message from Castiel," she said. "The child you enquired about is safe and happy in Heaven."
He bowed his head. "Thanks, mate," he said, his voice strangely soft.
Her eyes narrowed. "What is your interest in him?"
"You wouldn't understand," he said, vanishing.
Inside, he held a drink toward the sky. "To what might have been," he said as he drank deeply.
And in the Heaven of a young boy who'd known nothing but pain, a beautiful sunny day rang with childish laughter.
"Come, Fergus!" he called. "It's gettin' away!"
"Worry about your own legs, Sammy!" Young Fergus laughed. "We'll get that rotter yet!"
Their laughter - happy and free - rose as the two children ran after the dog that had slipped its collar and led them on a merry chase over the highlands.
END