Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, my coffee would be obscenely expensive and my sister would worship me. As in, no, no I don't.

Summary: Sam's got an angel and a devil on his shoulders. Well, okay, Dean and Cas are a bit too big for that.

"Get a burger, Sam," Dean urged as they walked towards the diner counter. "C'mon, what harm can it do?"

"Besides give me a heart-attack halfway through eating it?" Sam muttered beneath his breath.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Wimp."

Sam ignored him and got a salad.

Dean wrinkled his nose. "Dude, how can you eat this stuff all the time?"

"We've been through this, Dean. It's good for you."

"It truly is, Dean," Castiel agreed. "Do not forget to drink your water, Sam."

"I won't."

"You're such a mother-hen, Cas," Dean complained.

Castiel furrowed his brow. "I am not-"

"Dude, it's just a saying. I don't mean it literally."

"I see," he said doubtfully.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, right. You really need to learn a little thing I like to call sarcasm."

"I will try."

"You do that." He turned back to Sam. "So, we going to meet up with Dad?"

"Yeah, after I eat," Sam answered, taking a bite of his salad. "Why do you call him that, anyway? I mean, it's not like he's actually your father."

Dean shrugged. "It entertains me."

"It would," he mumbled.

"Well, yeah. Also, You might want to move to another table, some people at the one next to you are startin' to stare."

Sam sighed and got up, taking his salad and water to a table outside.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Cas apologized.

He smiled briefly. "Don't worry about it, Cas."

Dean slid into a chair and gently slapped Sam's cheek. "Drink your water, Sammy. It's a vengeful spirit, right?"

"It's Sam, and yes. Don't worry about me, Dean, I'll be fine."

"Me? Worry? Yeah, right. Do you even know me?"

"No, Dean, I've only known you for . . . oh, that's right. The whole of my life."

"Smartass."

"That's me," he said wryly. "Sam Smartass Winchester."

Dean chuckled. "Just eat your soul-sucking greens already."

"Yes, master."

All the air rushed out of Sam's body as he hit the wall, and then the ground.

"Sam!" he heard his father shout. He groaned, rolling over onto his knees.

"You're okay. You're okay, Sam," Dean said urgently as he kneeled beside him, as if he could somehow will it to be true.

"You will be alright," Cas assured the young hunter.

"I'm fine," Sam coughed out, pushing himself up just as the spirit gave a shriek and appeared in front of him.

Dean turned sharply, eyes flickering demonic black, on-and-off. "You don't touch him."

She screeched.

"You don't touch him!"

The ghostly woman flickered several times, alarming her into jolting back. Then she shrieked, enraged, and tried to score Sam's face with her claw-like nails.

Dean cursed. "You don't touch him, you don't touch Cas, you don't touch me. You don't touch!"

She disintegrated, breaking off into fragments and pieces that burnt up, leaving nothing but the faint, lingering smell of smoke, ash and sulfur.

There was a pause.

Then, "Okay, the burning thing? Not me," Dean said blandly. "Looks like good old John finally managed to burn her bones." He let out a snort. "Took his freakin' time."

Good-old-John appeared at the top of the stairs and rushed to Sam, patting him down the moment he got there. "Are you hurt anywhere?" he demanded.

Sam pushed his father's hands away. "I'm fine, Dad. Is it done?"

"I burned her bones. You're sure you're alright?"

"Really, Dad, I'm not hurt too badly, just a few new bruises," Sam sighed. "Let's just get out of here."

John looked hard at him before deciding that he was telling the truth, and they left, Dean helping him down the stairs and to the car, no matter how Sam protested.

"Don't be so stubborn, Sam," Dean said as he slid in on Sam's right. "I know for a fact that your back's bruised all to hell."

"Let it go, Dean," Sam said beneath his breath. "I'm gonna be fine,"

Dean turned to Castiel, exasperated. "Cas, do somethin'."

The angel nodded and reached out to gently pressed a hand against Sam's back, healing the bruises that were already appearing.

Sam exhaled, then said, quietly enough that John wouldn't hear, "You didn't have to do that, Cas."

"I know, Sam," he said. "But . . . this is what friends do, isn't it?"

"Yeah, Cas," Dean assured. "It's what friends do."

Cas smiled quietly, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

Sam leaned back in his seat, letting his head rest against the back.

An angel to the left of him, a devil to the right.

There was no 'pretending normal' for this kind of thing.

Well, that was interesting. I'm plannin' something like it again a few chapters later, too. Look forward to it. I know I am.

Next up: That encounter with a Djinn all those years ago, with the 'normal life'? Looks like it happened again. To Dean. Again.

Weird Randomness!

0000

"Sam? Who're you talkin' to?" John enquired.

Five-year-old Sam Winchester gave his father a big, proud smile. "My friends."

John stared down at him. Then he turned to get his gun and the salt. Before he could leave, Cas grabbed him and pressed a hand to his head. John was out like a light. Cas caught him before he could fall. "He won't remember any of this. You should be more careful, Sam. Telling John of our existence too soon would be a grave mistake to make."

But Sam was looking up at the angel in awe. "Are you a Vulcan?" he breathed.

"That's right, Sam," Dean said instantly, clapping Castiel on the shoulder. "Cas here's a Vulcan. That's why he's so antisocial and wouldn't understand a joke if it bashed in the face."

Castiel stared in consternation. "Jokes can do that? Why do humans put one another in such danger?"

"Wow," Sam said wonderingly.

Dean smiled smugly. "It all makes sense now, doesn't it?"

"I don't understand," Cas said.

Dean snorted. "Story of your life."

"Someone wrote a book about me?"

0000