-1Chris kinda enjoyed being kidnapped, if all possible child molesters/rapists/murderers/kidnappers/paedophiles were like Sam, well, maybe things wouldn't turn out so badly. That sounded really weird, but whatever. Chris liked Sam, a lot. His eyes, especially, Chris liked people's eyes. Sam's were particular nice. They were a deep brown, like vats of melted chocolate, but flecked with darker hues here and there. And they were beyond expressive, Chris guessed that Sam was one of those people that didn't hide their emotions, and even if he tried, his eyes would betray him immediately.

Just something that Chris noticed.

Sitting on the bed, propped up on his elbows, Chris listened rapidly to all the information that Sam was spouting out, family history, some girl called Jessica, Sam and Dean's parents… everything that Sam was quietly carrying around on his shoulders.

Sam was opposite Chris, talking raptly still until he realised that the kid was staring at him. Breaking into a grin, Sam cocked his head slightly. 'Man, listen to me going on.. Sorry, I'm sure I'm boring you.'

Chris looked vaguely scandalised, shaking his head defiantly. 'Definitely not! It's actually really interesting, all the hunting you've done and stuff.'

Sam looked down at the bed sheets, before raising his head. 'Really, you think so?'

'Oh yeah! Man, I could learn so much from you.. And Dean, I guess..' Chris replied, nodding enthusiastically.

'So did you brother teach you about hunting?' Sam asked simply, regarding the boy with a curious expression, that quickly turned to alarm as Chris' features began showing an ocean of sadness. 'Chris? What's wrong?'

Chris swallowed the lump in his throat, fighting the churning in his stomach before he replied with a secret that nobody knew. 'My, uhm, my brother died about half a year ago..'

Sam's face paled, and he reached out and patted Chris on the knee gently. 'Shit, Chris, I'm so sorry.'

'It was a demon that did it,' Chris continued, eyes glazed over, obviously he wasn't in the room right now. 'Some crazy satanic-driven guy who, I dunno, embraced some demon spirit, I think. He was 10 kinds of crazy though, thought that by sacrificing a 'pure soul' he'd ascend to something beyond evil, I guess.'

It was Sam's turn to listen, feeling the sympathy, and dare he say it, sympathy for the boy rocketing skywards.

'But my brother, Matt, still went after them, I tagged along, of course, I couldn't leave him. But he was too strong for us.. Way too strong, he tied me up, man, so tight, I couldn't move, could barely breath..'

The hand that Sam patted Chris' knee was now resting there, a pitiful sign of support, but was apparently comforting because Chris' ragged breathing calmed a little.

'He took Matt to this altar thing, strapped him down onto it, there were all these symbols everywhere,' Chris held up his wrist where the engravings were, they shined slightly in the dim motel light, no longer oozing blood though. 'Symbols like these, I'd never seen them before.. He carved them into Matt, too, but not on his wrist, on his chest. He screamed, oh god, he screamed.. And then he killed him, right in front of me. Dagger through the heart, there was so much blood..' Chris fumbled for something in his jeans pocket, pulling out a ripped and tattered piece of paper, he handed it to Sam slowly, as if hesitant to reveal it. 'I don't remember anything after that, it's all just a big blank.'

Sam held the paper in his hand, humbled that Chris would trust him with whatever it was, slowly, he opened it and realised that it was a picture, a beaten one, but a picture nonetheless. Sam studied it for a moment, instantly recognising Chris, but he was drastically different. He had a medium length, choppy brown hair, the grin on his face looked oddly strange, as if the Chris that Sam knew wasn't capable of such a feat. He looked fuller as well, just happier though. Next to him, his muscular arms strung across his brother's shoulders, stood Matthew Hunter. He was a handsome guy, the same features as his brother, but much more defined, he had grown into his lean frame, and his hair was cut short, however it was the same colour as Chris'.

'It was taken two weeks before he died,' Chris said numbly, before reaching out quickly and taking back the photo, stuffing it back into his pocket, but not before Sam caught Chris staring longingly as it.

'I'- I'm uh, really sorry Chris, I didn't know..'

'Well know you do,' Chris said finally, and even though Sam could almost feel his heartache, the boy broke out into a smile. It was at that moment, Sam knew; fuck Dean, fuck rules, fuck everything else; Chris was staying with them. They needed someone with as much resilience as Sam and Dean put together.