Sorry for such a long wait. The summer heat's killing me and also...I had a bit of a writer's breakdown yesterday. Sorry, I was making this about myself again. When really this should only be about the story! This is a quick, short chapter.

Luckily enough, their father seemed also snowed in at the moment, but had the chance to call. Away on business as usual, he wouldn't be back for a few days. And with the snow and wind, maybe more. His eldest son was positive that he'd make it. But Dean being Dean, he gave a concerned look every once in a while at nothing, brow knitted together and green sparks for eyes softer.

His youngest was fine whether or not he came back, not caring about too much about anything at the moment. An odd thing for Sam Winchester. Storms of thoughts and feelings churned and swam through his head, creating a loss of focus. The noises made by Dean playing Xbox in the next room seemed too loud; the bed too hard, and the pillows and blankets too scratchy. His room felt too cold and he couldn't feel his toes.

You'd think if you were tired out of your mind, you would fall asleep in a blink of an eye.

Thankfully, he had gotten out of his soaked gym clothes and into something more comfortable, so there was that mere comfort. Gray sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt were Sam's ideal choice: he liked the feel of the soft fabric.

Staring up at the cream-colored ceiling, which looked slightly fuzzy due to the lack of glasses, the teen tried his best to scrub away all the murky-ness swirling through his cranium. Tinges of anxiety and guilt pinged across his chest, aching worse than his bruises before. His past encounter with the jerks that decided that their time was better spent beating the crap out him felt fresh. And in a way it was.

Floppy chestnut hair flew through the air, as Sam shook his head. That was now in the past, and all he could do now was learn from his mistakes and not do it again. Walk forward and never turn back. Simple as that.

Though...nobody said it was easy.

Leaning his head into a pillow, Sam wanted nothing more than to sink into the darkness and be blank. Sleep seemed far away, angry fatigue gnawing at him, but with no result. Emptiness just seemed the only thing available at the moment.

Until Sam heard a faint buzzing next to his ear. It was his phone, that he only kept at home, never bringing it to school for fear of it being smashed to pieces by someone. God knows John would have his ass for breaking it.

A small mobile, it was plain but effective, the owner sighed before grabbing it and tapped the screen. One tiny crack decorated the upper right-hand corner, made by Azazel himself the first day Sam felt brave and dumb enough to bring it to Kripke High.

The bright light burned the boy's eyes, and he blinked them several times, but it was close enough to where Sam wouldn't have to wear his glasses. There wasn't much point to that, since he'd just take them off seconds later anyways.

Checking the name of the sender, Sam's stomach dropped. Gabriel stood in bold letters above the digital message. No doubt him, Balthazar, and Crowley noticed he was gone after gym class. Admittedly, it is rather hard to lose Sam Winchester, being almost six feet and the like. A lump developed in Sam's throat, and suddenly he was afraid of what Gabriel would think when he'd hear what happened.

He might be pissed. He might be neutral toward it all. While, like Dean, he was protective and loyal, the golden-eyed teen knew fully well people can take care of themselves and not always need saving. To an extent.

Where the hell have you been, kiddo? I heard what happened...you alright?

Without thinking, Sam quickly typed his response, a rushing feeling overcoming him: Dude, I'm fine. It's all taken care of.

Pushing the send button with a calloused finger, the brown-haired teen instantly felt better. Deep down, he felt a small spark of relief and joy that Gabriel seemed so worried about him. Sure Sam didn't like Dean fretting over him all the time, but it was somewhat different when it comes to a person that you seem head over heels for. Annoying older brothers and brilliant crushes were on two different sides of the spectrum.

The buzzing started up again, and Sam's hand desperately reached for it. You would have thought it was made out of solid gold.

Pffft. Bitch please. I'm coming over there, Samsquatch. Just wait for me. By the way, I'm pretty impressed by the way you beat those S. o. Bs up. Didn't think you had it in ya. I would have done it, if you had just asked.

Rolling his eyes, the taller teen scowled, before pushing the buttons with extra and unnecessary pressure: You sound like Dean. And no, you're not coming over. It's snowing like Hell and I'm really not in the mood.

Breathing an exasperated sound through his mouth, Sam ran a hand through his hair. His heart was pounding, this being on the few times he had ever texted someone. He didn't have too many friends, so what could he possibly do on a phone?

The annoying buzzing pierced through the air once more, and no doubt Dean was probably wondering what the hell was going on.

Don't care. Snow can't stop me. Besides, I'm already outside. Dean-o probably doesn't want me inside your house, so get your ass out here before I freeze to death.

A micro growl escaped Sam's mouth, and already he wondered what kind of drug he was on to actually have a crush on someone like this. Obnoxious, pointlessly loyal, and yet worth it.

Grabbing his glasses and climbing out of bed, he pulled on a pair of socks and hopped on a pair of old boots lying around. Adoring a blue sweater on, warmth caressed his frame and Sam felt lighter.

Heading out of his room, he walked past Dean, who had his headset on and yelled commands at the screen. If you poked hard enough, you could get the older Winchester to admit to his love of all things typically nerdy. References were his thing, yet he still called Sam the nerd. Not hearing him, the green-eyed man didn't bother to turn around.

Smirking and tugging on his spare jacket, Sam headed outside into the cold, the two doors slamming behind him. Icy wind nipped at his ears and nose, and snow already started to stick to his lashes and unruly hair. Sparkling white covered everything, and it was hard to see anything. Until a dark silhouette peaked through it all, contrasting greatly, the person's boots making loud noises against the snow.

"It's freezing out here! Damn..." the figure said, its' voice unforgettable to Sam's ears.

"You're an ass, you know that?"

Okay, there's a lil self-promo right here. For those of you who have read I'll Try to Help You, I've added a poll onto my profile here for what I should do next for it! Because I just want to do one more tiny thing for it. Your choices are: Sabriel re-write of the story (where Sam or Gabriel has the stutter and Destiel being the smaller pairing), a wedding chapter, your own request (requires message/contact me) OR do nothing at all and keep it closed and done! Promo over.