Just a little something that my mind came up with. I just don't like the fact that John and Dean doesnt understand why Sam needed that normal life, so my brain decided to come up this! Hope it's good xx

He tries so hard. He really does. He tries hard to fit in with his family. He tries hard to ignore the feelings of loneliness whenever he's left alone in a dirty, cold motel while his Dad and brother go on yet another hunt. He tries to ignore the cold dread that runs through him every time he sees his Dad looking in the newspaper, every time he sees Dean get that little spark in his eyes when their Dad says he's found something.

He tries so hard to not want to be normal. Tries hard to not imagine what it would be like to live a normal life, tries hard not to imagine what life was like for Dad and Dean. They had that. That taste of normal. They once had people they called friends, they once lived in the same house for more than a month tops. Dad had known what it was like to love someone. Dean had known what it was like to have a mother.

Sam didn't know what any of that was like.

Was it wrong to be a little jealous of them? They got to have it, but he wasn't allowed.

Was it wrong to be a little annoyed at them? For not allowing him to have that.

Was it wrong to feel that little spark of hate every once in a while?

He didn't hate them. Not really. He just hated that they made him move from place to place, hated that they made him leave people and places behind, hated that they wouldn't understand, that they didn't want to understand. Instead his feelings get passed off as those of a hormonal teenager which would soon pass.

He hated that his Dad would look at him sometimes like he didn't belong there. Didn't belong in that business, didn't belong in their little hunting world…Didn't belong in their little family.

He tries hard to ignore the looks, ignore the obvious put-on annoyed sigh that his Dad makes sure he hears.

He would lie in bed sometimes. A bed that wasn't his own. He would lie there and listen to the outside world and he wonders. Just wonders about everything and nothing at the same time. Wonders what it would be like to come home from a school that he's been in all his life, saying "I'll see you tomorrow" to friends that he's grown-up with, wonders what it would be like to come to a house that he was actually able to call 'home' instead of just 'that place I'm just staying in for a while.'

He wonders if he would be happier with a stable life or if he just wants that life because he knows he can't really have it.

Is his Dad right? Is this just one of those 'I-know-I-can't-have-it-so-now-I-really-want-it' situations?

Nah, he knew it wasn't. He craved for that life. Dreamt about it, prayed for it, wished it would happen.

It wasn't just the normal he craved for. He wanted to stop the dead-weight of cold, hard fear curling into his stomach every time his Dad and Dean went out.

Would this be the last time? The last time he ever saw them? The last time he ever spoke to them? Would this be the time when he would be alone for the rest of his life because they didn't make it back? Would this be the time when he would have to make the call to Pastor Jim, telling him to come pick him up? Or would this be the hunt where Pastor Jim or Bobby would call him, speak the dreaded words?

He wanted…needed…to stop those thoughts running through his mind. But they instantly came as soon as Dad said they were leaving. He couldn't handle it anymore. Couldn't handle the jumpy, shaky feeling he gets that run right through to his bones. Couldn't handle the frozen dread every time the phone rang.

And he tries.

He tries to stop the tears that always come out when he's curled around his pillow at night. He tries to stop being scared for all of them. He tries to stop wondering if his mum would be ok with this or not.

He tries not to care. Tries to accept it. But he never can. How does one accept that their family, the only family he has, might die every time they walk out the damn door?

He knows. Knows that this life will eventually drive him insane. Knows that it's already starting to when he finds himself in the bathroom one night, knees drawn to his chest, tears streaming down his face, arms wrapped around himself, rocking backwards and forwards with pictures of his Dad and Dean ripped apart and slowly dying in some out-in-the-middle-of-nowhere woods.

How could anyone accept that?

How could they expect him to accept that?

But there's nothing he can really do. He can't make his Dad and Dean understand that this life is slowly destroying his very soul, destroying who Sam Winchester is.

There's nothing he can do but sit there at night and will away the fear and the dread and the loneliness and the disappointment and the depression and the everything in-between.

There's nothing he can do but try.

So he tries.

And sometimes it's not enough.

He guesses he'll just have to try that little bit harder.

Alright guys, let me know what you think please. Thank you xx