Sam sat on the on ground, shoulders and back hunched forward, resting his elbows on his knees, determinedly staring into space and ignoring the shouting from into the motel room coming from his dad and Bobby.

Jack was a comfortable, if not freezing, presence at Sam's side, offering silent support while they waited for the chaos to end. Jack was covering his ears and drawing frost patterns with his toes. It wasn't like they could talk to each other with the shouting going on through the wall at their back.

The other people staying at the motel would either glare at their door or would keep their distance. Some people would smile sadly or sympathetically at Sam, but no one tried to intervene in the argument between the two older hunters from inside the room.

This particular motel was a small, roadside building. Doubtlessly it saw a lot of arguments and shouting. People didn't come to this place for a nice family holiday.

Sam let his eyes flick down to his watch with a sigh. They had been arguing for almost an hour and a half without stop. It was almost impressive.

He shot a look at the door, chewing on his bottom lip worriedly. He was concerned that either his dad or Bobby would grab a shotgun and shoot at the other. Even if no one was hurt, they would have to run out of another town to escape the authorities that would probably be called. You never knew in a place like this.

Sam considered calling Dean for a brief moment. He might be able to talk some sense into John over the phone, but Sam dismissed that idea before he had even begun to fully form it. Dean was probably every busy with his own hunt. And, if he was entirely honest with himself, Sam knew, deep down, that calling Dean would make this just one more thing that Dean could do that he couldn't.

Jack glanced over at his friend and slowly pulled his hands from his ears, noticing that Sam wasn't ignoring the shouting anymore. He wondered if one of the hunters had killed the other.

But, no, if anything the shouting was even louder now.

The motel room door abruptly slammed open, making both of the teenagers jump. John strode out of the room, fuming. He was about to slam the door shut when he spotted Sam sitting on the ground outside. He left the door open a sliver and stared down at Sam, open mouthed. John looked regretful and sheepish for a moment. Sam wondered for a moment if his dad was going to apologise. John closed his mouth with a snap and stalked off, away from the motel room.

Sam rose to his feet slowly. Stretching out his tense muscles after sitting in the same place for so long. Jack jumped to his feet much quicker, being used to the cold and stillness. The pair shared a look before the crept into the room together.

Bobby glanced up from his overflowing duffle as they entered. "Sorry about that, boys," he apologised.

Jack dropped down onto the closest bed, the springs creaking loudly even with Jack's slight weight. Sam remained standing by the door and crossed his arms, rubbing stiff hands up and down them to try get back some warmth into his skin.

"I thought you two were going to kill each other," he muttered.

"Yeah," Bobby agreed. "It got a little loud. More than a little."

Sam nodded, flicking his gaze across the room, picking out where clothes and furniture had been thrown and kicked. His gaze fell on the winter spirit who had flopped down onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "Are you alright, Jack?"

Jack only hummed in response.

"Jack?" Sam tried again.

"Something wrong, Jack?" Bobby asked.

The spirit sighed. "You're fight. The other spirit's are fighting. Everyone's fighting. And no one will talk to anyone," he huffed. "Everyone is angry at everyone. And they've all yelled at me."

Bobby hummed and moved closer to the spirit. "Why are they fighting?" He asked, gently.

Sam thought, not for the first time, that Bobby would have made a much better father than his dad did. He wondered why the older man had never had kids. He was good with them.

Jack shrugged. "I don't know, I don't really care. I just make snow. And cold."

"Jack, are these spirits… do you - are they bullying you?" Sam stuttered.

Jack slumped. "I've tried to keep out of their way, I haven't even broken into the North Pole for months, but everyone's still mad at me."

"We're not mad at you," Bobby reminded him.

Jack propped himself up on his elbows to stare at the two hunters who believed in him, who liked him. A small smile tugged at his lips. At least he had some people who liked to have him around.

Sam dropped down on the bed beside his best friend. He nudged Jack with his shoulder and smiled. Bobby watched the pair with a half smile before he began to toss his weapons and his clothes more neatly into his duffle. He wanted to leave early tomorrow and he wanted to be ready.

He dropped his bag on the small lump couch in the corner of the room, where Sam had been sleeping for the past few days. "You take my bed," he insisted of the two teens.

Sam considered arguing for a minute, but he caught the deliberate glance at Jack that Bobby sent him. The normally energetic spirit looked increasingly ragged. The bullying from the other spirits must have gotten to him, Sam decided.

He sighed and lay down in the bed next to Jack. On the rare occasions that Jack had stayed over with Sam, he always slept on top of the covers and faced Sam. Now Jack was staring at the ceiling looking lost in his thoughts. He wasn't used to seeing the spirit so pensive.

Sam lightly poked him in the ribs. "Goodnight Jack," he said, quietly.

"Night," Jack replied distractedly.

Sam frowned at the spirit's lack of response, but he figured Jack would sleep soon.

~An Unlikely Friendship~

Jack startled when he heard a noise from outside the window. He hadn't been sleeping but the noise had knocked him out of his daze. He heard the noise again which proved he hadn't imagined it.

He glanced at Sam, relieved to see the young hunter still sleeping.

Jack slipped off the bed and crept to the door. He grabbed his staff as he walked and cautiously opened the door. He pointed the staff at the person - a spirit, Jack realised instantly – but faltered slightly when the spirit smiled at him. The autumn spirit. An older boy dressed in browns, greens and reds.

"Get some sleep, Jack. The others won't bother you tonight," the older spirit promised.

A small breeze picked up and ruffled Jack's hair, as though the Wind agreed with Jack's almost, kind of, maybe, friend.

"Go," the spirit insisted, kind and gentle. "They won't get past me." A second breeze picked up, making the spirit chuckle. "Or the Wind," he added, bemused.

Jack nodded slightly and slunk back into the room. It was a relief that he would finally be able to sleep. Ever since he had become the unofficial whipping boy in the spirit world he hadn't gotten any sleep. He had been beaten up too many times to even think about letting his guard down that much. But with the autumn spirit and the Wind watching his back he was confident in catching a few peaceful hours of sleep.

He laid down on the bed beside the sleeping hunter and for the first time in almost a month Jack Frost slept.