Faith: Edited

A/N: I don't own Supernatural nor Harry Potter

Chapter 7

Repent ye therefore, and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out, when the times of refreshing shall come from the presence of the Lord

Acts 3:19

Kripke's Hollow, USA

Kripke Elementary

The sun was shining brightly upon cherub-like faces that were pulled into looks of concentration, as Mrs. Hailey's third-grade art class was busy imitating their inner Picasso. The room was alight in a soft glow of natural light, walls covered in different drawings. Shelves of various art supplies lined the walls and a window stretched out along the west wall opposite the door.

Four by four tables dotted the room. Six total with twenty-two students in the class roster. Only twenty-one students were present that day. The teacher, Mrs. Hailey, walked around the classroom. Giving little encouraging comments to each child she passed. The drawings were primitive at best, being that it was a group of eight to nine-year-olds that were drawing. All except for one. A child wearing a batman t-shirt and jeans sat alone at a table in the back of the classroom. A basket of crayons sat in front of him.

The child was roughly smacking the crayons on the paper, sounding out a rhythm similar to Morse code. Where the other children gently drew with the crayons, this child was hitting the paper repeatedly in hard taps with such force it rocked his small body. Every once and awhile a small head would glance in the child's direction.

Then they would soon lose interest and go back to their work. Mrs. Hailey, believing the child to be distracting his fellow students, slowly made her way towards the child. As she walked over, she could see many different crayons scattered about the table in careless heaps. Whites, blacks, greens, greys, and browns. The child reached for a soft yellow as she neared him.

The crayon receiving the same treatment as the rest. She was about to reprimand him when she arrived at his table. She sucked in a breath. There staring back at her from the paper was a crude outline of a beautiful black-haired man. Wings stretching out across a desolate cityscape. Sun illuminating feathers in a golden hue and the most amazing green eyes that bored into her own amazingly lifelike. The brown-haired child was dotting out the shape of a lightning bolt upon the man's forehead. Mrs. Hailey crouched down.

"That's beautiful Chuck. Who is this supposed to be?" She asked in awe.

"My hero." Answers a melodic voice.

"Your hero? Like Batman?" Mrs. Hailey laughs. Chuck nods as he sticks his tongue out in concentration. Making the hits on the paper a bit harder than before.

"He's going to save us all." A smile spreads across the teacher's face as she watches him.

"Is he now? Where did you get that idea from?" She asks with a chuckle.

"I saw it in a dream." Chuck glances at the teacher from the corner of his eye.

"That's nice dear." She says as she ruffles the child's curly locks. She turns to walk away, Chuck frowning calls after her.

"Don't take the train home today Mrs. Hailey." The teacher freezes, her head whipping around to stare at the little boy. She hesitates, then asks.

"Why? What's going to happen on the train?" Chuck swallows and explains quietly.

"The sky will rain fire and many people will die." Alarmed, Mrs. Hailey walks briskly to the child and squats down.

"Chuck! Don't say things like that! Nothing is going to happen to the train." She says firmly. Chuck panics and shakes his head.

"No! It's true! I saw it! I saw it in a dream!" He said desperately trying to make her see. Mrs. Hailey grabbed Chuck gently by the shoulders. Eyes boring into his.

"Chuck, dreams are just that. Dreams. They're not real. Nothing is going to happen to me or the train. Nothing. You just had a nightmare. It's not real. I am going to call your mother to let her know you aren't feeling well. Perhaps you are coming down with something if you are having such morbid dreams." The teacher declared placing her hand to the boy's forehead. Standing up she turned to walk away.

"Your baby dies. I saw it. You had red spreading over your tummy and you were crying. Saying not my baby. Not my baby. Then fire rained down on you. I woke up after that and my bed was smoking." Chuck whispered. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

Mrs. Hailey turned around to look at the child in horror. She stared at the boy in disbelief. Her hand resting on her stomach. She back away from him on shaky legs. "Don't take the train," Chuck repeated. Mrs. Hailey turned and fled from the room, collapsing in the hall. Vomiting on the laminate flooring. The children's cries calling out to her. Icy fear shot down her spine. For she was three weeks pregnant and she had not told a soul.

Greenwood Diner

Greenwood, Mississippi

The restaurant was busy, waiters and waitresses scurrying around table to table taking orders. Calls of order up filled the room. Smells of fresh coffee and food permeated the air. Up in the corner of the ceiling, a television silently played the new station, a train caught in a collision with a car the day before. Exploding. Ninety people were found dead. Forty injured. Seventeen still missing. A middle-aged, gruff man sat in a booth at Greenwood diner, home of the best Apple Pie.

A newspaper spread out before him, a thick journal to his right, and a steaming mug of coffee above it. Two children ages 5 and 9 sat in front of him chowing down on a stack of pancakes. The older of the two staring hungrily at the picture of apple pie in the window as he put the fork of food in his mouth. He swallowed. Dirty blonde hair framing his hazel eyes. He glanced at the man in front of him as he drowned his plate in syrup.

"Hey, Dad. Can we g…"

"No." The man said without looking up.

"Just a sli…"

"No." The man repeated as he took a sip of coffee, sighing softly.

"Come on Sammy help me ou…"

"No Dean and that's final." Said the man, glancing up at the child sternly beneath his brow.

"But Dad! It's pie! PIE! The gift of the gods! Not just any Pie. Only the BEST APPLE PIE IN THE WORLD!" Dean declared making large hand motions. Hands almost smacking his little brother who was giggling hysterically at his brother's antics. John Winchester cracked a smile. His eyes lit up in fond amusement before his expression became stern again as he saw the child had gathered the attention of the restaurant.

"No Dean." The child huffed, sulking. Bottom lip put out in a pout as he took another bite of his breakfast. Sammy smiled a toothy grin at his brother. Brown eyes glinting in amusement, pearly teeth shining. Dean stuck out his tongue at the boy in annoyance. Sammy huffed and turned to his father.

"Dad? When's Uncle Bobby coming back?" He asked in his best innocent voice.

"In a couple of weeks, he has some things to take care of in London first," John answered gruffly.

"Oh. So what are we gonna do til then?" Dean asked around a mouth full of pancakes. Syrup dripping down his chin. Sammy gagged from the corner of his eyes. Dean grinned at him, cheeks puffed up like a chipmunk.

"You two will be going to school for a bit here while I take care of some things in town." Dean translated that in his head.

You'll be out of the way while I go on a hunt.

Dean sighed. Sammy glanced at his brother out of the corner of his eye, seeing his down expression he widened his eyes. Widening them enough so they started to tear a bit, scrunching his eyebrows, he stared at his father. Opening his mouth he asked in a wobbly voice.

"So…Pie?" He asked hopefully. Staring at his father. John Winchester sighed.

"How many times do I have to say it? I already told your brother no Sammy. No means n…." He cut off as he glanced up, locking eyes with his youngest son.

As he watched tears started to build in his eyes. He panicked but tried to keep stern. They stared at each other not blinking for a full minute. Until John blinked, slumping in his seat he rubbed his face. Catching the trembling of a bottom lip through his parted fingers.

"Fine." He sighed out. Sammy smirked and put his hand underneath the table. Dean silently pressing a quarter into his palm.

Sammy 28: Dad: 0.

"Yeah Pie!" Dean shouted. Eyes laughing.

Inwardly he cackled. No one could say no to Sammy's puppy face.

The Virgin Komi Forests

Ural Mountains, Russia

Ascha blinked his eyes open sleepily. Enchanting green gazing up at the lightning blue above him. A beautiful trilling sounded somewhere close to his head. Something combing gently through his hair. Water lapped at his feet, he splayed his fingers in the dirt, his treasure pressing into his palm. Calmly he breathed as he felt for the wrongness in the air. The dark one was off somewhere in the trees behind him.

Ascha smiled as he basked in the peacefulness around him. He could feel so much life surrounding him. A blazing star perched by his head. Tears gathered in his eyes, sliding down his cheeks at its beauty. He didn't want to break the moment. But the shining life force must have sensed his waking for the soft carding of his hair stopped. A soft questioning trill was directed at him. The whispers forming it into words.

I know you're awake hatchling.

Ascha sat up to look at the brilliant life that spoke. His mouth opened in wonder as he gazed upon the creature. A magnificent bird stood proudly where his head had been. A nest of ash around his feet. A long-burning red-feathered tail stretched out behind him, a red, golden black comb standing atop his head. Red burnished plumage cascading down his back that glowed gold in the sunlight. The wind tousled its feathers. Creating the illusion of flickering flames.

So beautiful. Harry breathed out. The creature preened at the praise. Puffing out its chest.

Thank you hatchling. I am Fawkes. The being trilled.

Fawkes. That's a pretty name. Ascha said bashfully. Looking up at the pretty bird through his lashes. Hands folded over his treasure.

Why thank you. Fawkes cooed.

I've never seen your kind before. Ascha declared, puffing out his cheeks, eyes shining in delight.

Of course not hatchling. I am a Phoenix and my kind generally doesn't show themselves to non-magicals. The bird sang out.

Oh. Ascha's head fell in disappointment. Toes pressing into the dirt.

Do not be upset hatchling I won't leave. The Phoenix sang.

You. You'll stay with me? The dark-haired boy asked hopefully.

Yes. Fawkes agreed.

Why? No one ever wants to be around me. I'm a freak. Ascha exclaimed sadly.

No, you are not a freak. If you are a freak, then so too am I. Do you think I am a Freak? Fawkes spoke out firmly.

NO! Ascha denied horrified. How could this magnificent creature be a freak?

Then you are not a freak. Ascha scrunched his face up in confusion.

Why would you be a freak if I was one? The child asked. Cross digging into soft flesh.

Because hatchling, we are two pieces of a whole. Ascha widened his eyes in surprise. Tilting his head in curiosity, he asked.

What do you mean? Eyes wide in question.

Don't you worry about that now, hatchling. You will understand in time. Come, I sense your companion returning. The bird cooed out. Flapping its large wings it took flight to settle on Ascha's white-robed shoulder. Revealing the dark one emerging from the depths of the forest. His clothes were askew, suit jacket ties about his waist, leaves tangled in windswept hair.

He was carrying an armful of thick logs. Upon seeing the child, red eyes widened and he gave a surprised shout. Dropping the logs, one landed on his foot. A slew of words flew from his mouth in angry mutters as he hopped on one foot in the clearing. Ascha blinking in astonishment. His eyes followed his every move. Wondering what the words meant, he proceeded to try to sound them out.

"Blllloooddyyy…Chiickeeeeen….appeaaarrr-i-ing ou—ttt ov fu…" The dark one shouted. Running to Ascha waving his hands, hopping on one foot made for a comical sight as he was saying something to the child in English. At Ascha's blank look he repeated himself.

"Oh for the love of…stop. Don't repeat those words. They're bad. Bad."

"Bad?Bad?" The child asked head tilted to the side. Black hair falling over the lightning bolt scar, the Phoenix copied his expression. Tilting his head, feathers glowing in the sun. The dark one rose his eyebrows in surprise.

"Yes Bad. Now, where did the chicken come from?" The dark one asked. Fawkes bristled his feathers, squawking in annoyance.

"Oh! Fawkes was here when I woke up! He said he is going to stay with me! Isn't that great!" Ascha said excitedly, oblivious to his feathered friend's reaction, eyes burning in happiness. He threw up his hands in exclamation.

"Yeah, great." The dark one muttered as he eyed the new development in suspicion. Shaking his head, he rubbed his foot, lips pursed. Scowling he glared at the bird and started picking up the logs. The child had been shivering in the night for the last couple of days. He would have to find some extra clothing for the kid. A wet robe just wasn't going to cut it. Neither would the dirty jacket he wore. The logs should be enough to keep the child warm that night, but it was only a temporary solution.

The dark one-eyed the child from the corner of his eye. Ascha trilling away at the red-feathered menace. Bird calls exchanged back and forth. It seemed another ability had cropped up. Something else for him to train. Looking out into the lake, he thought about what he would feed the child. He had given him berries he found in the forest that he tested to make sure we're safe. But that wouldn't hold for long. Perhaps the water would yield out some fish. So distracted by his planning, he failed to realize he was worried about another's wellbeing.