Disclaimer: Not mine. Not at all.
So every fic I write has a play list. Mostly they all have the same music but I give thee the play list!
We Are Young
Alone In December
Young and Aspiring
Down, Set, Go.
When The Sun Sleeps
A Boy Brushed Red, Living In Black and White.
Guys Like You Make Us Look Bad.
God Wears Gucci.
We'll Sleep When We're Dead.
What's Left Of Me.
Hey Baby, Here's That Song You Wanted.
In Fear and Faith
The Taste of Regret
Reviews are appreciated. When I know people like my story it makes me write quicker.
Many who came in contact with Samuel Winchester would imagine that he was the pride and joy of his family. Intelligent, immensely so, polite and well rounded. He excelled in everything that came his way in school, never faltering even the smallest bit. He was a natural athlete, always picked first in P.E. Many wondered why he never went out for any teams. He was one of the most polite young men that many adults have come in contact with. Always "Yes Ma'am, Yes Sir", never giving lip like many children. He was rather shy, never the one to speak first, but there was a certain charm around the boy that no one could not notice and respect.
Anyone who came in contact with such a remarkable young man would have no doubt in their mind that he was the light in his parents eyes.
Had Sam heard these musings for himself he would have scoffed. The light in his father's eyes? Hardly. John Winchester rarely even smiled at his youngest son, let alone considered him his pride and joy. John rarely spoke in anything but loud tones with Sam. Always yelling, reprimanding, always making it known how much of a failure Sam was.
Those on the outside looking in would think Sam was the golden boy of his small family. That his father would constantly be proud. Those on the outside looking in though, did not know of the secrets of the Winchester family. John Winchester did not measure success on school, sports, and friends. John measured success on how quickly his sixteen year old could load a gun and how quickly he could take down a snarling werewolf. John was anything but proud of his son's scholarly achievements. Sam would even say he was disappointed.
Most children who bring home A+ report cards would receive a large smile and a lot of praise from their ecstatic parents. Who doesn't want their child to succeed in school? When Sam was younger and he had not yet learned to hide his good grades from his father, he would come bounding in the door, the paper held tight in his hands, excited to show his father his good work.
John would simply glance quickly at the bright yellow stars adorning the paper and cast it aside without a second thought.
"If you had spent the amount of time you spent studying for this test on training, I might actually be able to call you a Winchester."
Sam had learned quickly that trying to gain his father's pride on school work would be worthless.
Slowly trudging to his bedroom with tears running down his cheeks, the child would find praise in his older brother, Dean. Dean always took the papers that John could care less about and congratulated Sam on a job well done.
"I'm proud of you kiddo." Dean would say, beaming. "You worked hard on this."
Sam had simply nodded. That was the last either of the older Winchester's heard of Sam's school work because at age eight, Sam Winchester learned that to gain praise from his father he had to become a good hunter.
An outsider looking in would say Sam was a perfect athlete. Strong, quick minded. Able to lift twice his weight. Strong, albeit, rather clumsy, Sam was the outsider's picture of athletic.
To John Winchester, Sam was weak and a liability. No matter how hard the boy pushed himself into every training session, John was never satisfied. Always angry at Sam's lack of improvement.
"For the love of God, boy! Could you be any more clumsy? I don't understand how you are even a Winchester!"
John repeated that praise many time as his son was growing up. He didn't understand how his youngest son was a Winchester because Winchesters didn't falter, didn't misstep and tumble to the ground. Winchesters weren't failures.
That is all John made his youngest son feel like. A failure. Not fit to have the last name that John and his pride and joy of an older son did.
Dean always received John's praise and smiles. Dean was perfect in his father's eyes. Never quitting, never faltering, always alert and one of the best hunters John had ever come in contact with. The eldest Winchester was proud to tell other hunters that Dean was his son. That he had molded that young man into the success he had become.
John barely introduced Sam. A quick, "This is Sam", and that was it. When John would introduce Dean he would bring his eldest son to his side and clap him appreciatively on the back.
"This is my son, Dean. He's the one that took down that coven of vampires. Couldn't be prouder."
Sam was left in the shadows while John basked in the glory that was Dean.
"Look sharp, Sam!"
Sam cried out in pain as he was once again knocked to the ground. Their father had ordered a sparring match between Sam and Dean and Sam was being pulverized by the twenty year old.
A look of guilt was evident on Dean's face as he gently helped Sam up.
"You gotta block me, kiddo." Dean said, smiling slightly. "I know you can do this. You're doing better than ever before. I know you can take me down."
While Dean gave praise, John dished out reprimands.
"Samuel! How many times are going to get knocked down on your sorry behind? Look sharp! For once in your miserable life, do something productive. Make me feel like you actually are worth something to this family."
Sam's face grew red in embarrassment. He was trying, he really was, but he was still messing up. Running a hand up and down his arm, Sam mumbled a quiet, "Sorry, Sir."
Dean clapped Sam gently on the back. "You're doing better, Sammy." He mumbled.
"Don't lie to him, Dean. He's a disgrace to the Winchester name." John glared at his youngest.
Sam's head dropped lower and he desperately fought to keep his tears at bay. He was too old to be crying like a little girl.
"Get out of my sight and go to bed. Dean and I have to discuss the next hunt and whether to take your sorry butt along."
Even though it was only six in the evening and even though Sam was starving, having not eaten anything since early that morning, Sam nodded, quickly scrambling up the stairs to the room he and Dean shared. He avoided the sad look Dean gave him as he passed. Why was he such a failure to his family? He was nothing more than a burden.
Sam knew Dean would not be back for awhile as he and their father had a lot to discuss. Sam was never included in these conversations. He had asked his father a few years ago why and John had simply replied with, "If you could pull yourself together and actually make me proud, you'd be given the opportunity to discuss important matters with me and your brother."
John didn't seem to understand how hard Sam really tried. No matter how hard Sam pushed himself it was never good enough.
Curling up on the bed, Sam felt his body begin to shake with soft sobs. He hated himself already, crying like a little girl did not help him feel any better about himself.
Sam let out a gut wrenching scream into his pillow, punching the bed. He was sick and tired of being pathetic. He tried so hard but he couldn't make his father proud. He was a liability on hunts and he was worthless as a hunter. He knew he just took up space. Another mouth to feed.
He wondered if his mother would be as disappointed in him as his father was. Would she despise his presence as much as her husband. Would she think Sam was nothing more than a burden to the family. Sam believed so.
Sam's stomach rumbled and he curled up under the blankets, ignoring it. There was no time for that.
Pressing his tear stained face into his pillow, Sam found himself drifting off.
Dean slowly opened his bedroom door, careful to not wake his sleeping brother. He smiled gently when he saw Sam curled on his side under the blankets, his breathing even and deep.
Unable to resist, Dean sat on the bed beside the sixteen year old and ran his hand through his long hair. He frowned when he saw the very noticeable tear tracks on Sam's pale cheeks.
It hurt Dean to see Sam constantly put down by their father but, as Dean had tried to tell his brother, it was only because John was trying to protect him.
"Dad, don't you think you're being a bit hard on Sammy?"
John had paused and glared up at his eldest son. "I wouldn't be so hard on him if he would get his butt into shape. He's a liability and you know that. He's not even worth to have around if he can't keep you and himself safe on hunts."
Dean frowned. "He's improving, Dad."
"Barely." John had scoffed. "I'm only doing what's best for him, Dean. He needs to sharpen up. It's too dangerous out there for him to be clumsy. Now, back to more important matters, the poltergeist.."
Dean agreed and even though he thought his father was being way to hard on his sensitive brother, he agreed that it was for Sam's benefit and safety.
Dean was snapped out of his thoughts when Sam let out a soft whimper. Dean heard this from Sam often, nearly every night. Sam had frequent, vivid nightmares that left him screaming in the middle of the night. Dean had tried to talk to him about it but Sam had shut down.
"It's nothing, Dean." Sam had mumbled.
Dean didn't believe him for a second but that was the Winchester way. Get over it without any chick flick moments.