"Hey Sam."

Sam looked over his shoulder at the quite voice behind him. A meek Jess stood behind him in the dusty main road. Sam felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck that had nothing to do with the late summer heat.

"H-hi Jess," Sam stammered out. "What are you doing here?"

Jess tossed her long blond hair over her shoulder. It was in its normal style, a single braid going down her back with bits of ribbon and wild flowers braided into it. Sam had a small collection of flowers that had fallen out of her hair in his room. Sometimes at night when he couldn't sleep he'd drag them out from their hiding place under the bed and smell them; thinking of Jess and her cornflower blue eyes.

"I was just here with my mom, and I thought I'd say hi," she nodded further up the street. Sam unwilling tore his eyes from Jess to see her mother at the stall of another vender. "Well I should be getting back. Nice seeing you!"

"Bye!" Sam croaked out, watching Jess's gold hair disappear into the crowded street of their town's market.

Sam sighed turning back the stand of homemade soap he had been looking at earlier. The old man running the stand smiled sympathetically at him. "If you want to impress her, try this." The man handed Sam a bar of soap the smelt like wild flowers and honey. Sam inhaled the sent, loving the sweet smell but he set the soap down back on the table. Instead he grabbed a bar of light pink and white soap from a basket labeled Anise.

"Sorry I can't, but I'll take this."

The man raised an eyebrow, "Are you a hunter?"

"Um, yeah. My brother and dad think using this soap helps keep the animals from smelling us." Sam shrugged, handing the man money to pay. "I don't think it really matters but it smells okay so whatever."

"Well you be careful out there. I heard there are all sorts of monsters out there in the woods. I even heard a rumor there is a flock of angels living just on the edge of the forest. They may look pretty, but they're vicious."

"Alright, I'll be careful," Sam faked a smile at the old man, making a mental note to warn the angels to be more cautious.

Sam set off down the busy street running over the mental list of things his family needed. He had gotten their weekly supply of mixed vegetables and he even managed to get few fruits that were on sale because they were on the verge of spoiling. He had picked up a replacement wet stone for sharpening knives; their old one was a mere sliver of rough stone worn down from over use. Sam had bought a ball of thick braided string to be used for setting snares and various other things. Looking up from his basket Sam knew he still need a handful of items, like thread and spare cloth patches for mending holes in their clothing.

"Heya Sammy," a large hand smacked him across the back hard enough to send him stumbling forward a few steps before regaining his balance.

"Garth," Sam coughed struggling to regain his breath. "What was that for?"

"It was the payment for the last bet you won." Garth said his mouth full of an apple he had snatched from Sam basket. Sam eyes the fruit for a moment, deciding whether or not to try to steal the fruit back. He decided against it. "Just kidding, I got you this." Garth held out one of his spindly hands, in the palm of it was a small wooden cylinder.

"What's this?" Sam asked taking the thing into his own hands, examining it.

"It's a whistle, so you can do this," Garth put two fingers to his lips and blew out a long breath that sounded sharp, like a crying squirrel. A few people in the market stopped and looked over in the pair's direction.

Sam put the whistle to his lips and blew into it lightly; a softer, quieter version of Garth's whistle came out. "This is pretty cool, but what do I use it for?" Sam asked.

"Ah young naïve Sam," His eyes bright with enthusiasm, "there are endless possibilities! I know you like hunting-"

"I don't like it, I have to hunt."

"Whatever, say you're out I the woods and you injure yourself and can't move. You can blow the whistle, until someone finds you. It's much loader than your voice and your voice would go horse before the whistle stopped working. Or with a little practice you could mimic bird calls. You could also use it as a signal when you're standing under Jess's window-"

"Garth!" Sam punched his friend's boney arm though his too big jacket.

"Ow! Hey I just think you two would be a cute couple. I see you looking at her, and she looks at you too you know."

"Really!?"

Garth smirked; proud he had finally ensnared his friend in his trap. "Of course she does, all the time in school when she's not looking at the board."

Sam's smile faded. Garth had stopped going to school four years ago, he couldn't have known whether or not Jess looked at him. "Jerk." Sam cried as he tried to swing at his friend again, but Garth danced his thin frame out of Sam's reach.

Garth laughed at his friend's halfhearted attempts, "Alright Sam, where to?" He asked, resuming eating his stolen apple.

"I'm going to get spare clothing scraps, you can get lo-"

"Great, I haven't seen Charlie in ages. To the Bradberry shop!" With that, Garth melted into the throng of people, his gangly body easily slipping though people.

Sam sighed, watching his weirdest friend motion for him to follow. He picked up his pace, trying to politely move through the busy market as fast as he could. Garth had no such regard, shoving though groups and knocking things over. He acts like he was raised in a barn, Sam thought. Which he, not so surprisingly, actually was. Garth and his older cousin had been living in the loft of Thompson's barn since he was six, but somehow they always managed to get by. Granted Garth was underfed, he was always skinner than either Dean or Sam had been even in their worst winters, but he was happy and he had a knack for getting what he wanted. He's been caught stealing four or five time but by Sam's account that was a pretty good record. There were times when Dean or his father had tried to tell him to stay away from Garth because he was a bad influence, but Sam never really listened. Garth was fourteen, three years older than Sam, and he was parentless with a cousin that was only there half the time. He stole out of necessity and never took more than he needed. Garth was a good kid, Sam knew he wasn't a bad influence.

"Took you long enough," Garth joked. He was leaning against the door from of the Bradberry Clothing Emporium. He opened the door, a bell signaling their arrival, and gesturing for Sam to enter first.

"So how have things been with you and Lisa?" Dean asked. He sat the Bradberry's kitchen table drinking a mug of tea and counting his money. He had just sold a stock of various animal meat and hides to the Bradberrys.

"Oh my God, it's been wonderful! She made me this for our two month anniversary." Charlie returned to the kitchen from putting the animal hides up and sat down at the table next to Dean. She extended her right hand for Dean to see; on her index finger there was a chunky brass ring.

"That was sweet of her."

"I know," Charlie sighed love struck. "And we even kissed! I owe you Dean Winchester."

Dean laughed at his friend's enthusiasm. He knew Charlie had never been in a relationship before and he was enjoying every moment of her happiness. "I didn't make her like you, I just told lisa you were interested-" A bell sounded from downstairs cutting Dean off.

Charlie moaned before getting up a jogging down the stair separating her home from the family store. Dean stood and scooped the coins off the table and into his pocket and poured the remainder of his tea in the sink. He turned on the faucet to wash his mug and set it onto the counter to dry. The Bradberrys were a well off family, it only being Charlie and her two parents. Their home was luxurious, filled with extravagances most people in their small town couldn't even dream of having. Dean's favorite of these was thickly carpeted floors, electricity, and running water. When he was little he'd listen wide eyed to the men at the local pub tell about how in demon run cities everyone had these commodities and more.

The Bradberrys had made their small fortune by selling fairly priced clothing and raw fabric. Dean was in semi-shock at seeing his brother and his odd ball friend Garth standing in the shop front. He knew neither of the boys could afford anything in the shop. Yet here Garth stood harassing Charlie, per usual of the two.

"Aw come on Charlie, I think you and Kyler would make a good couple," Garth said, he had Charlie cornered in between two clothing racks. Sam stood by awkwardly, obviously unsure of what to do.

"Garth, I don't want to date you're creepy cousin. Besides I bet he's dead. He's been in the woods a month and the angels probably got to him by now." Charlie tried shoving passed Garth but he wouldn't budge.

Dean stood directly behind Garth, arms crossed over his chest, loudly cleared his throat. Garth turned and jumped at the sight of the older Winchester. Dean had a year, five inches in height, and thirty pounds on Garth; he could easily pummel the kid. "I think you should leave now." Dean's voice rumbled out of his chest like thunder.

Garth's eyes skirted from Dean to Sam to the door then back to Dean. "Alright, Sam you commin'?" He tried to make his voice light and cheery. Sam shook his head "no" before Garth sighed and trudged out the front door, making the bell chime again.

"Thanks," Charlie breathed. "That kid creeps me out."

"Charlie, what were you saying about angels?" Sam asked.

"What? Oh well nothing really. I was trying to scare Garth."

Dean had caught Charlie's motion as well and began interrogating her alone with Sam. "So you were lying to him?"

"Well not exactly, I mean I've never seen angels myself but my father came home swearing up and down last week that he saw a pair of gray wings flying through the trees that were too big to belong to anything else." She looked at the brother exchange glances. "Why? Have you two been seeing angels as well?"

"No, no," Dean started, unsure of how to finish his lie. "I just don't understand why it would be bad if there was a flock hanging around here. They seem nice."

Charlie started laughing so hard she had to grip the clothing rack next to her to keep her balance. "Dean Winchester, I knew you didn't pay attention in school," she wiped a tear from her eye, "but I thought you'd at least know what could kill you. Any supernatural book will tell you angels are some of the most brutal monsters. Sure they look human, but they are incapable of remorse and will rip you apart with a smile."