Excessive Mark Pellegrino feels at the moment, started watching Lost with the last episode of Season 5, after only watching the first 1.5 seasons. Jacob is a bamf.

They were there. The two lights were just below him, only a hundred feet away. Straight down a sheer cliff face, with no visible path to the bottom. How could he reach them?

Jump, whispered a voice, not the woman's. He recognized it vaguely as the one who had sent him here.

"Jump? Are you serious? That's got to be a hundred feet."

Trust me, kid, insisted the angel. You can make it.

"No I can't!"

From out of nowhere, an invisible force collided with the small of his back, and Aeden toppled forward, over the edge, and straight down to the unforgiving ground below, screaming all the way.

oOo

They heard a scuffling and screaming from somewhere above. Dean tensed, but already the brief surge of energy was leaking away. He seized onto a shallow outcropping to remain standing, but dodged out of the way just in time to avoid a fiery red ballistic missile crashing into the ground where he had just been standing.

"Nnnn," came a pained groan from the shadowy heap on the ground. It unfolded itself and seemed to inflate into the scrawny figure of a young, albeit tall, boy. His skin was mottled by more cuts and bruises than even Dean bore, and his right arm dangled uselessly at his side.

Cas got to his feet and shoved Dean back behind him. Always the protector.

The young boy, however, did not seem to pose much of a threat. He beamed in all-encompassing relief when he caught sight of Dean and Cas, and tears streamed from his eyes. He moved forward and wrapped one arm around a bewildered Cas' waist.

"I found you." The boy released Cas and looked up at the sorry pair. "I found you."

Through his blurred vision, Dean could make out that the kid had about the reddest damn hair he'd ever seen, and that he was young, despite being well over five feet tall.

"Who the hell are you?"

The kid shook his head in a loose sort of way, letting out an exhausted breath as though he were shaking off the question. "Come with me."

Three words. Three words from a stranger in the place worse than hell, and the angel and the human trusted him with their lives. Some would call it magic. Some would call it intuition. Me? I say it was the sheer relief of running across another human, a speck of innocence in the vast ocean of evil which surrounded them.

He held out his hands to Dean and Cas, who each took one gingerly but without question. The black bluff vanished.

oOo

Three months. It might as well have been three years. Each picture of Aeden, grinning proudly next to a fish or a tree, or amongst jersey-clad soccer players, now seemed to leer at Sam, taunting him. A face in a picture takes on a certain quality when you look at it long enough. The upturned corners of the mouth start to turn down, the eyes look away from the camera, at something just out of view. They become distant and unknowable.
This is the only smile Sam Winchester has known for three months.

It was the first time he'd left the house for any prolonged period of time since Aeden disappeared. He sat hunched on a bar stool with a crooked line of empty shot glasses before him, running his thumb over Aeden's face in the family picture taken the year before at Lake Taho. He'd done this so many times the spot was now becoming blurry and faded.

The bartender, a pretty girl with curly, caramel colored hair sidled up on the other side of the bar.

"Another for ya, sweetie."

Sam shook his head without looking up, making his bangs fall forward, hiding his face.

"That's a pretty picture," the woman said. "Some red hair that kid's got goin' on."

Sam didn't reply.

"Sweetheart, you should go home."

"Nobody's there," Sam whispered. It was close enough to the truth. Mealla had become a sort of ghost, floating from room to room. She was stronger than he was. She hadn't yet started throwing books at walls. But the silence was killing her, and he knew she still blamed him.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," said the bartender. "Get on outta here. Go back home."

He was too out of it to even register the oddness of her comment. He dug into his wallet for some bills, but she held up a hand.

"Don't pay. Just go. You don't have a lot of time."

"A lot of time for what?"

"Sam! Git!"

Obediently he stumbled out of the bar, not pausing to wonder how she knew his name.