Sam had known he was different before he truly understood what that had meant. Being one of Yellow Eyes’ chosen had given him visions, and much later, he’d realised he could do things others couldn’t.

Sam knows what he should’ve done — he’d grown up in a family that hunted the very thing he was, believing that all witches worked closely with demons and were not to be trusted. Despite that knowledge, Sam practiced in secret. He had the ability to help people, to work with charms and spells and rituals that would keep the very evil he’d experienced first hand away from those too weak to defend themselves.

Sam ran when he turned eighteen, and he did not look back.

Dean found him, years down the line, after their father went missing. Dean, his own brother, whose face twisted into something dark when he’d seen the hex bags and charms littering Sam’s home. It had taken some convincing, but Dean had finally learned that what Sam did was not evil. Witches could be good. Sam was living proof of that fact.

You had come to him not long after. He could sense your magic long before you’d arrived at his door. Sam had heard stories of familiars, but he’d never encountered a witch that had one before. They were rare, but he had one. It made him feel as though he was right in pursuing this, in helping people.

You tended to favour your animal form more than your human one, but Sam didn’t mind. He was a little freaked out when you first started communicating telepathically when you were unable to talk to him, but the novelty quickly wore off. It’s hard to be surprised by many things, in Sam’s line of work. Besides, you were good company, and your very presence amplified his magic and left him less worn out after a ritual.

Sam had come to enjoy your presence.

The air is thick with magic when you finally decide to show up. Sam could sense you wondering around his home, and then you appeared in his spell room, approaching his side.

“I was wondering when you’d show your face. I think I should get you a little bell.” Sam teases without turning to look at you, carefully drawing symbols on the carved wood surface of the table with chalk, the flickering candles lighting up his features.

“Glad you’re here. This is gonna be a big one — I was sensing malevolent beings nearby. I’m hoping to be able to pinpoint the source to work on a banishing spell. You feel like it?”