10AN: Supernatural/Harry Potter crossover. 11 year old Sam Winchester is shocked when he receives a letter telling him that he is a witch. While Sam may be excited more than scared, the same cannot be said for his father and older brother. Marauder's era, because I like the characters better. Eventual pairings. Sam and Amy will have a pairing, as will Dean. Not sure with whom, because Amy dislikes Sam at the moment and Dean is a squib. Amy is NOT an OC, and she really is a kitsune.
Wands And Rock Salt
John had married her knowing she wasn't completely human. Oh, she was a hunter of monsters, but she had gone to a special boarding school in England during her teen years. She had told him, finally, when she was heavily pregnant with their first child. Tears rolled down her eyes, searching John's for the hatred she knew she would find.
John had simply shook his head and embraced her, soothing her, telling her that their family would be a new beginning. That she could leave hunting and being...what she was...behind and have what she'd always wanted. Normalcy.
Her parents had known of course. Samuel and Deanna were both witches as well. Or, as she had told John, Samuel was a wizard. Unlike what John had believed, even before he had knowledge of the evil in their every day lives, males were always wizards. John remembered that day like it was yesterday. Her tears soaking his shirt, her heavily pregnant belly, holding his precious Dean, pressed against him.
It was heartbreaking, seeing her tears, knowing she believed John would want to kill her. After, though, it was perfect. In the morning, John watched her standing above the trash can in the kitchen, with a huge smile on her face. Her hands trembled a bit, she pressed them tightly against her stomach, as if asking Dean for strength.
Then John watched in shock as she pulled a long, thin willow stick out of the pocket of her apron. She held it up, tears glistening, but the smile never leaving her face, and broke it in half and watched it drop from her hands into the trash.
She had turned and saw John. She ran to him and breathlessly told him it was over, it was all over. She wasn't a witch anymore. Her last spell had been to seal her magic.
For years, it was the perfect marriage. They were happy, Dean was happy. He was all they'd ever wanted. The perfect son, almost the spitting image of John, if it weren't for his dark blonde hair. Their joy increased ten-fold when she became pregnant with their second child, whom they had decided to name either Samuel or Samantha, after her father.
The months passed without incident. The pregnancy with Sam had been just as easy, if not easier because she knew what to expect. Sam was born, officially named Samuel Winchester. He was just a baby, but to John's delight, and her's, Sam's eyes were his mother's.
For almost a year, it was wonderful. Dean loved being a big brother, he even slept in Sam's room sometimes. Whispering words to his baby brother that neither she nor John had ever figured out. One night, John was on a business trip, leaving his wife alone in their home, safe, he thought.
John completed the trip without incident, but couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Something was off. He could feel it in his very soul. He pulled his car onto the road leading home, as he approached the three-way crossroads, he saw a figure standing in the middle. John's heart skipped a beat as he remembered her books.
Crossroads were home to a special kind of demon. An evil worse than that of normal demons. Demons who took souls in exchange for granting a wish. Why would one be here, coming to him of his own volition, now? It just reinforced John's gut feeling that something was terribly wrong.
John lifted the passenger seat of the car and pulled a bottle of holy water and a bag of rock salt out. He stashed them in his jacket. He doubted the demon meant harm, most Crossroads demons would never outright attack anyone. They sent their precious Hellhounds to do the dirty work. Still, it didn't hurt to be cautious.
John opened his door and stepped out, approaching the obviously male Crossroads demon. His hand clenched over the bag of salt.
"What do you want? You know she's not a hunter anymore! And I want nothing. My life is perfect! What would you possibly think you could offer me?" His heart sped up as the demon approached and stepped into John's headlights.
It cast the demon in a very wrong looking bright gold light. As unflattering as the light was, at least he could see this demon now. He looked like a heavy set human, a wealthy one, with a slightly balding head, and a pristine black suit. Even his eyes looked normal. Of course, that was on par for demons. They didn't flash black or red until they killed or sealed a deal.
"I only come to offer it to you in person because, well, this would be a big deal. It might even impress my little princess, Lili. She's Queen of Hell right now, you know. It would definitely increase my standing with my mates." The demon laughed. He had a thick Scottish accent.
"Anyway, where was I? Oh yes. Deal of the century. Your soul, for something you want even more." The demon smiled and seemed to conjure a glass of whiskey out of nowhere.
"You have nothing you can offer me. She's happy being normal. We all are. No power, no money, we just want to be normal. Leave!" John heaved holy water at the thing, which it dodged easily and looked at the ground with distaste.
"Really, John Winchester. All I want is your soul. Isn't ten years of normalcy better than what you've had so far? I'm really bad at comparing hell years and earth years, mate." The demon's eyes finally flashed red as a sneer crossed his lips and those crimson eyes narrowed. He looked as if he were moving in for the attack.
John's fear increased, his heartbeat almost leaping from his chest. Why? What would prompt the demon to say such a thing? Sam and Dean were fine. She was fine. This demon was lying. It was a demon after all. John ran to the Impala and slammed on this gas. The Crossroads demon stood in his path until he almost ran over it, when it dissolved into a cloud of red smoke and vanished.
This was odd. Wrong. No demon, not even the high ranking ones, had red smoke. What kind of Crossroads demon was that? Would he tell her? No, John decided. Normal. One demonic encounter that ended without incident wasn't worth mentioning.
John saw the fire before he'd even reached their road. His pulse quickened. He tried to calm himself. It could just be a brush fire. Those weren't rare in Kansas, or at least they weren't uncommon. Still, he punched the gas, the Impala raced over the gravel road as fast as it could go.
The car, some type of Impala, despite being a bit out of date, still ran like a race car. John sometimes wondered if her magic had something to do with it. She had still used magic when they were dating after all. And she had loved the Impala almost as much as she loved John. Either way, there was simply something odd about the car.
John stopped thinking about the car as soon as he turned in their drive. The house was ablaze. At least, the second floor was. Oh god. Sam and Dean. He was sure his wife would have got them out, but what if she'd fallen asleep on the couch again? John raced into the house, coughing into the smoke billowing from the upstairs.
Recklessly, John ran.
"Daddy! Daddy! It's Sammy! Something was in his room, help him daddy. Help mommy!" He felt a small hand grab his leg. Dean. Dean was crying, tears leaking from his face. His bedshirt, which read "World's Best Brother", was so covered in smoke and burns that John was startled Dean was even alive.
John stopped for a split second. "Dean, go. GET OUT! Get out of the house and run. Run until you can't feel the heat anymore."
"But dad-" Dean started to protest. John slapped him. The first time he'd ever hit his son. Dean's eyes widened in real fear and he ran. John could have sworn he saw a flicker of inky black, a flash of blue eyes, and a pale hand on Dean's shoulder. A...guardian angel? No, it couldn't be.
John raced up the stairs. He ran to Sam's room, where the fire was coming from. Dear lord, please not Sam! Please not my son! Sam was crying, furiously, almost angrily. John screamed at what he saw. A dark man, with odd, yellow eyes standing over Sam's crib, blood leaking into the baby's mouth.
The fire billowing around the room didn't even come near Sam and the odd man. It...almost seemed focused on the ceiling. John didn't look, he ran for Yellow-Eyes, the bag of salt already out.
"Too late, buddy. It's done. For what it's worth, though, I did ask her to leave the room or to at least move so I could get to dear Sammy." The yellow-eyed monster smiled and a cloud of black smoke spiraled out of the broken window.
John looked at Sam. The fire was fading. What had that been about? He would have to ask her-John's eyes finally fixed to the burns on the ceiling. He screamed at what he saw. Screamed and screamed. John Winchester never stopped screaming.
She was stuck to the ceiling, her blackened, burned body barely recognizable. Her mouth open in a silent scream. Mary Campbell Winchester was dead. Nothing more than a piece of seared meat on the ceiling. She had been burned alive, had felt and smelled her flesh burn. The demon hadn't even given her a clean death.
Sam Winchester, whose tiny baby gaze was fixed on the ceiling, began to scream and cry, matching John's never ending screams.
10 years later -
Ten year old Sam Winchester sighed in frustration as he fiddled with an army man that he'd somehow managed to stick into the tiny hole. His dad would kill him! He didn't think it would have fit. The hole was far too small to hold his toy, but it was almost like it had widened when it sensed Sam's intentions.
He dug and dug at the hole with a fierce dagger that had been his birthday present two years ago. His father only ever got him weapons. It was Dean, his beloved Dean, who got him toys like he wanted. For his tenth birthday, John had gotten him a pistol and told Dean to teach him how to use it.
Dean did, but in his own way. He made it a game. Sam's eyes teared up at the thought of Dean. Dean had dealt with this far longer. He had known what a normal life was and had it ripped away. To Sam, this was normal. To Dean, he knew it wasn't.
When Dean was gazing out the window, or sitting on the dirt gazing at the stars, Sam saw the haunted look in his eyes. He never asked Dean what life was like before hunting. He didn't want to know about what he couldn't have, or that haunted look would be his. However, his curiosity got the better of him.
"Dean...what was it like? You know, before. When mom was still alive?" Sam asked his big brother, who was holding him in an embrace so tight it almost hurt Sam.
Dean's grip tightened. Sam wheezed."I...Sammy...it was...great. That's...I can't tell you any more than that. I was just a kid, Sammy. Only dad really remembers, and he won't talk about it, ever. If you ask him, he'll hit you, Sammy." Dean pulled Sam into his arms, almost crushing his little brother to his chest, as if he could protect Sam from all future harm just by hugging him.
Sam decided to try another question. "When you're alone, is it mom that you talk to?" Dean's green eyes widened. Apparently he hadn't known Sam had ever cared enough to listen.
Dean's grip loosened enough for Sam to escape. He wriggled out of his brother's arms and sat on the ground next to him, nuzzling Dean's shoulder.
Dean shook his head at Sam. "I guess I should have told someone before, but a fifteen year old guy who believes in this sappy shit gets made fun of." Dean shook his head again.
"When I was a kid, the house was burning, the demon was killing mom, and going to kill you. I met someone. Someone who saved me." Sam's dark eyes were rapt with attention. He'd never heard this story of the night of mom's death.
Dean ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair. "Sammy, he told me he was an angel. We talk, that's all. I don't even know his name, or if he really is an angel. He's probably a crossroads demon trying to get me to wish mom back to life. I just talk to him. And he just listens. Demon or not, he seems to...sympathize. He says he lost his father."
"An angel!?" Sam squealed. The Bible had always been his favorite book, despite John telling him that it was only to be used for exorcisms and demon killing. "A real angel? I bet it is, Dean. I bet it really is! I bet he's your guardian angel!"
Sam's excitement was contagious. Dean laughed and picked up Sam, swinging him around under the stars. "All this nonsense aside, what do you want for your eleventh birthday tomorrow? Don't say a gun, because I know better!" Dean pulled his little brother into the motel room. John was once again chasing a lead on the demon known only as Yellow-Eyes.
Sam's excitement faded. He looked away from Dean. He could never tell Dean what he really wanted. What he'd wanted since he was nine. "Come on, Sammy! Tell me or I'm gonna tickle it out of you! You know I can!" Dean darted forward.
Sam jerked out of the way, tears trailing down his cheeks. Dean blinked. How had he made Sammy cry? He was always trying to be the perfect brother.
Dean gripped Sam by the shoulders. "Sammy, whatever is wrong, you have got to tell me. If dad finds out, I don't know Sammy. It would be better if you told me. I might be able to fix it without dad ever knowing."
Sam reached into his back pocket and pulled out a very crinkled letter that seemed written on parchment rather than real paper. He handed it to Dean silently. Dean opened the letter and read it. To Sam's relief, his face showed no rage or anger. He simply glanced back up at Sam.
"Where did this come from? Was it a demon?" His voice was calm, but Sam could always feel it when Dean was scared. It was disconcerting.
"N-no." Sam whispered. "A bird...a bird came to the motel room this morning while you were getting breakfast for us. It was some kind of owl. I know it wasn't a demon. I...I fed it a cracker dipped in holy water."
"If this is real, I know why you didn't want to show dad. Sammy, you want to go, don't you?" Dean's voice was thick. Sam felt his sadness. He thought Sam was wanting to leave him.
"I don't want to leave you, Dean. Maybe, if it is real, you could come with me. The..the person who wrote the letter, Albus Dumbledore, he seems nice." Sam tried to calm Dean before his sadness made Sam sad.
Understanding crossed Dean's face. "Dad. You want to leave dad. I can't believe you, Sammy. Dad already lost mom! If he lost you too, I think he would, well, lose it! He'd kill himself, Sammy!"
Sam, as what he expected was a budding empath, could tell Dean wasn't really angry at him, just upset at the thought of Sam possibly leaving. Sam held back tears.
"I do want to leave dad. He doesn't care about me. I can hear his thoughts, Dean! Every time he looks at me, he sees mom! He thinks I'm a spitting image of her! It makes him so sad, Dean. I don't want to keep hurting dad."
Sam didn't voice the real reason he wanted to leave John. A few months ago, when what he thought were psychic powers, had first manifested, the first thought he'd heard from John was If you were never born, Mary would still be alive. It had almost killed Sam. He'd wanted to leave ever since hearing what John really thought of him. Hogwarts was a way out. A way to save himself and John. Maybe even Dean, if he could contact the letter writer somehow.
"I'm going, Dean. And you're going to be there with me. Maybe not at first, but when I learn real magic, I'll...I'll magic you to me. I won't leave you, Dean. You're my big brother." Sam managed to choke out.
Dean simply shook his head and ran to the bathroom, locking himself in. Sam could hear him crying, and then his voice, talking to the angel. It was a language Sam didn't understand. He had no idea what they were saying, but the angel at least seemed to be calming Dean down.
Sam wrote a response to the letter as fast as he could, saying he wanted to go, and opened the motel window. The black-feathered owl with the sparkling green eyes was waiting for him, almost as if it knew. Sam noticed that the owl's pure black wings were tipped with silvery white. How odd. The owl nodded to him and took the letter, spreading those beautiful silver tipped black wings.
If anything was an angel, it had to be that owl.
Diagon Alley, a few months later -
To Sam's surprise, John hadn't been furious at all. He was just...the only word Sam could find for it was heartbroken. He'd cried when he read Sam's letter, and the entire night, after getting drunk and passing out on the ugly motel sofa, he'd screamed. Not aloud, but in his head. All Sam heard from his father's dreams, or rather nightmares, was one word screamed over and over. Mary Campbell. Mary Campbell.
Mom. That was when Sam found out that mom had been a witch. Finding out that Sam, who already looked like Mary, had also inherited her gifts, had broken John. John was on the path to drinking himself to death.
He had tasked Dean with getting Sam all of his school things. Because of the...muddled legality of their work, they had more than enough money. The trip to England was rather enjoyable, at least. Dean had insisted on flying first class.
John had refused to come, sleeping in the Impala outside a scorched house in Lawrence, Kansas. Dean was excited about England. Especially the girls. He had said he'd heard so much about how 'British chicks were easy'.
Dean was staying in the town near Sam's school, until summer, when they would both join their father in a small roadhouse where he would be staying with an old Welsh hunter so he and Dean could continue to hunt.
John had said he simply needed some time alone in Lawrence until he came to England.
Sam hefted his pack up his shoulders. As of now, it just had books in it. His Bible, a journal given to him by John (he said it had been Mary's), and the assigned school books. All he needed now was a wand. He wanted a pet, but neither he nor Dean were sure where to go. Dean was a 'muggle' as they said, after all.
Of course, some who learned of Dean's lineage called him something else. Squib. It sounded stupid, really. Once Sam figured out what it meant, however, he realized Dean really was a Squib. A non-wizard born to a witch from a long pureblood line, the Campbells. Despite Sam's own halfblood status, no one seemed to insult him or say anything. At least not in any of the bookstores.
He and Dean entered Ollivander's, a wand shop. Or, it appeared, the only wand shop. Dean sneezed and said something insulting after inhaling a bit of dust. There was another witch in there, a young girl Sam's age. She had red hair and bright green eyes. Her green eyes were even brighter than Dean's, which was something.
She was waving around wands as the old man behind the counter watched. Eventually, it seemed she found her wand. She was alone, but apparently had gold and paid for the wand. She turned and saw Sam and Dean.
"Oh, hello! I'm new to Hogwarts too." She said brightly. "My name is Lily Evans! What's yours?"
"Go away." Dean said.
"Dean! Don't be an asshole!" Sam snarled. "My name is Sam. Sam Winchester. Don't mind my brother. He's just...just an angry muggle." Sam and Lily giggled as Dean glared at them, but not without humor. Dean always had a good sense of humor about himself.
Dean glanced around the store, and noticed a buxom witch with thick black curls almost cocooning her dark, lidded face. She looked possibly around Dean's age. He immediately started chatting her up. Sam looked away.
"My brother is...well, he's a bit of a...pig. Sorry." Sam blushed.
Lily smiled. "It's alright. My sister...she's...a pig too." At this last word, Sam could feel her sadness.
"Your sister isn't as cool with magic as Dean, is she?" Sam said, being nosy.
"Lily!" It was a boy with shoulder length, oily looking black hair, already wearing black robes that looked too large on his thin frame. "You. Leave Lils alone. She doesn't like talking about her sister, right?"
The boy grabbed Lily's hand and rushed her from the store. Lily glanced back at Sam and shook her head slightly before leaving with the boy.
Sam felt a cold hand on his shoulder. He jumped and whirled, facing a man with huge, almost bulging eyes. He relaxed. It was just the store owner. He had thought of a ghost or demon for a moment.
"Here for your wand. Come, come." Ollivander steered Sam toward the desk where Lily had gotten her wand.
A loud crack distracted both Ollivander and Sam. Sam winced. Dean had just been slapped, hard, across the face by the witch with the thick black hair and ample buxom.
"Filthy squib! How dare you lead me on! I thought you were a wizard." She slapped Dean again and stalked out, joining another young woman with white blonde hair.
Sam smiled and turned back to Ollivander. "Brother is what you guys call a Squib. I guess he just figured it wasn't something to mention when trying to pick up wizard chicks."
Ollivander appeared to not have noticed anything after the initial smack. "Hold out your wand hand. It is the hand you write with."
Sam held out both hands. Thanks to his father's rigorous training, he was ambidextrous. Ollivander raised an eyebrow.
"Hmm. We rarely get wizards or witches who don't have a preferred wand hand. This at least gives me a more unique selection. Some of the most powerful wands are ones that can only be used by people like you." Ollivander went through his shelves and put several wands in front of Sam.
Sam tried a few. Either nothing happened or the wand did something hilarious, like setting Dean's pants on fire. That was apparently not a desired effect and Ollivander dug into his desk and picked out a dusty wand. Ollivander polished it quickly, showing it's real colors and giving it a nice sheen.
"I've had this one in here for ages. It's almost the same type as your mother's." Sam gasped, as did Dean, who fell over a stack of wands causing his pants to catch fire again.
Dean smacked his ass a few times to put out the fires before turning to Ollivander. "You knew Mary?" He glared at the wandmaker.
"Oh yes. Mary Campbell. A great witch, powerful, compassionate. So sad, what happened to her. Burned to death in a fire...her wand must have been out of reach, otherwise no one could kill Mary Campbell with fire, not even Fiendfyre."
"What else do you know about her? You knew her even before dad did!" Dean grabbed Ollivander. The wandmaker muttered something and Dean was forced back against the wall.
"Mary's squib son. I'm sorry, I only knew her from when she came to get her wand, and her death announcement. Beautiful blonde American girl. Lovely accent. Sweet voice. Talented. Saw her name in the paper a few times for awards when she was in school. That's all, Mr. Campbell."
Dean bristled. "Winchester. I'm Dean Winchester. John Winchester's son."
"And yet, you are also Mary Campbell's son." Ollivander smiled and turned back to hand Sam the wand he'd found. It was a pale, almost white color. "A hard-to-acquire wood of white birch, with a thestral tail hair."
Sam waved the wand with his left hand, motioning as if he were spinning to shoot a demon who had snuck up on him. Warmth exuded from the wand, trailing through his arms and pale white sparks flew from the wand's tip. To Sam's secret dismay, the white sparks faded and did not catch Dean's pants on fire.
Ollivander pondered this for a moment.
"Very odd, indeed, that. A thestral wand...tell me, young man, have you seen death?"
"Death, sir? I...no. I mean, I've never met him, not yet. Dean and I met a Reaper once but-" He stopped when Dean stepped on his foot.
Ollivander laughed. "I don't mean the real Death, child. There is no such thing! I mean, have you ever seen anyone die?"
Elsewhere, Death pondered over why so many people thought he didn't exist. He ate a pickle chip and sighed.
Sam paled. He had seen people die. Countless times. Failed hunts. Amy Pond, the pacifist kitsune, killing her mother. Molten flames circling him, vile yellow eyes, a woman screaming as the flames ate at her body... "Yes. Yes, I have seen death." He whispered. Dean put an arm on Sam's shoulder.
"Here. Keep the change." Dean scooped up Sam's wand, put it in a gift box he'd found on the ground, tossed a pile of gold on the counter, and rushed his Sammy away from the strange man.
As soon as they exited the store, Dean ran into the dark haired witch again. He put his usual "I'm going to seduce you" grin on his face and flung a streak of pick up lines at her. The witch looked disgusted.
"Oh, disgusting! The Squib is talking to me again, Cissy. Let's go before we catch the Squib disease!" The dark witch rushed the pale woman, Cissy, away from Dean, who still looked distressed.
"She is SO hot. I think I'm going to ask your Headmaster if I can't at least stay at your school as like, a body guard or something. I WILL seduce that woman!" Dean sounded determined. When he found a woman he wanted, by God, he would get her. Sam had never seen him fail yet.
They were headed back to the rather nice hotel room Dean had paid for in Diagon Alley when he noticed a pet shop. He led Sam back to the room and told him he was going to get some drinks at a bar he had discovered. Dean always had a way of managing underage drinking, so Sam paid it no mind. Besides, he didn't even know the drinking age in England. Dean very well could be legal.
Dean exited the hotel. He got several looks, but apparently even Squibs were allowed in Diagon Alley if they had enough magic to find it. Dean had, so no one said anything to him. He headed to the pet shop. He had never really got Sam a birthday present. Just another set of plastic army men. A pet would be more heartfelt, a better gift from someone who was a very clingy older brother.
He sneezed as he entered the pet shop. So much dander! Don't wizards ever clean up? Dean sneezed again and wiped his nose on his sleeve before finding the shop owner. The man's eyes raised in confusion. "You're not a wizard, not a real one. What would you be doing in the Magical Menagerie?"
"Yeah, I get it, I'm a Squib, haha, laughter, insults, let's talk sales now. My brother is NOT a Squib and he's starting Hogwarts. I want to buy him a pet. Suggestions?" Dean snapped at the shop owner.
The man blinked several times. "Well, does your brother have a favored animal?"
Dean was startled for a minute. What kind of horrible sibling was he? He didn't even know Sam's favorite animal! He popped a Xanax as a panic attack tried to start. "I don't think he has one. He was admiring the owl who sent him his letter, but I know he's always wanted a cat or dog, too. And frogs, well, they're pretty neat. Sam has a nice collection of plastic frogs." Dean was so ashamed right now.
"Well, owls are very useful, but not required, as Hogwarts has an owlery for students. Dogs aren't allowed in Hogwarts, cats are a bit difficult at times, especially for a new owner. Toads, hmm. They aren't popular, but these are magical toads. Some of their secretions can be used as free potions ingredients. We also have rats. How does the little guy feel about rats?"
Dean snorted. "HATES them. Like, bad. He killed a small mouse with a shotgun once. Maybe a toad would be good?"
"We do have other animals, but they aren't standard Hogwarts pets. They're allowed, but most people prefer owls, cats, rats, and toads." The man took a white cloth off a cage, revealing a beautiful dark blue bird Dean had never seen before.
The man snorted. "I was told this was a phoenix when I was sold it, but it hasn't had a burning day in the three years I've had it. It's very smart and very attractive. Perhaps your brother would be interested in a unique tropical bird?"
Dean looked at the bird. It really was attractive. It's feathers were dark blue, with silvery feathered tips. They almost looked like real silver. It was indeed a gorgeous bird.
"How much?" Dean asked.
"I've been wanting to rid myself of the thing for ages. I swear it gives me the evil eye every time I try to feed it. Take her, she's yours. Yes, I checked, it's female." He handed the silver-blue bird to Dean and ushered him out of the store.
The blue bird squawked loudly as Dean stepped into the sunlight, holding the cage precariously. It was large, since the bird was so large. Dean felt a shard pang in his shoulder. He glared around. The bird gave him a dignified look as she appeared to deny having bitten Dean. She put her head in her wing and seemed to go to sleep. Thank god. I just hope she doesn't hate Sammy as much as she hates me.
Back in the motel, Sam was getting bored. Dean had left a small sack of gold, Galleons, he reminded himself. Sam had seen an ice cream shop near the inn. He dug out several fat pieces of gold. Surely ice cream wouldn't cost much more. He headed to the shop, watching.
Wondering what it would have been like, growing up with Mary and living as a future wizard. Different. No hunting. No killing. Sam shook his head violently and bought a plain vanilla cone from the wizard at the ice cream stand. It had only been a few silver pieces, so Sam had gotten a lot of change back.
"Excuse me? Sir? What's the cheapest thing you have? I'm so hungry..." Said a soft female voice. A familiar female voice.
Sam's eyes widened and he turned. Amy. Amy Pond, with her long blonde hair done into twin braids, her blue eyes wide and a slight flush of embarrassment on her lovely cheeks as she asked what was cheapest. Sam came to her rescue.
"She's my friend. I'm buying. Just get whatever you want, Amy." She jumped, startled. Normally, startling a kitsune was a very bad thing, but he knew Amy. Knew she wouldn't hurt a fly.
"Sam Winchester. Oh my God. You're...you're a...you're here." She sounded more frightened than happy. "Dean is here too then. I'm sorry, I can't stay!" She ran.
Sam, being a hunter at heart, ran after her, easily catching up. Kitsune or not, she was fast, but Sam was faster. He grabbed Amy by the shoulders and held her against a wall, careful not to harm her.
"Amy! It's Sam! Why would you run? Dean isn't even staying! If he saw you, so what? He can't shoot you in broad daylight with all these people around!" Sam said.
The young kitsune's eyes were cold. "It isn't Dean. It's you, Sam." She tried to pull away, her hard eyes never leaving Sam's.
"What...? I never did anything, ANYTHING, to you, Amy! Why do you hate me all of a sudden? We were best friends. Or the nearest thing people like us can have. You were my first kiss, dammit."
He noticed most English wizards did not swear, but having lived around John and Dean his entire life, swearing was second nature.
"I don't care, Sam Winchester! You're a hunter. Until the day you die. As you get older, it gets stronger. Just like my hunger. Just like a kitsune, ME, Sam! One of these days, I will falter and kill someone. In Hogwarts or not. I can't even believe the Headmaster is letting me in, okay?" Amy fought the tears welling in her pale eyes.
"Go away, Sam. Go away, and never, ever speak to me again. I don't need your kind of help. Your help kills people." She shuddered and took a deep breath. She rushed Sam, caught him off guard, and pressed her lips tightly to his own.
"Go, go now, Sam. My Sammy. I hate you. Get the hell out of here!" She shoved Sam to the ground and ran. Sam followed, but as soon as he rounded the corner, he realized Amy had used her kitsune speed and vanished.
He touched his lips, where Amy's had been moments ago. He was only 11, but they had kissed before. It felt...nice. He would have to find a way to get Amy to forgive him for his family, somehow. If he'd ever felt romantic love, he would have felt it toward Amy, kitsune witch or not.
R/R, please. Even if you don't like it, let me know what I can do to make it better. Young Sam may be a bit OOC, but I tried to keep Dean completely in character, even when hitting on Bellatrix.