I've had so many ideas floating around in my brain for what I can possible write for Sam, and after too many attempts, I decided to start a short little series :) So enjoy, tell me what you think :) I'll have the next chapter up soon.

He's twelve when he goes on his first hunt, the gun heavy in his hand, his senses completely alert, his eyes, an impossible mixture of jade and aqua, darting to every sound that his ears pick up. His breath comes out in quick, silent huffs, careful to be as silent as he can. He's waiting in the Impala, as instructed by his father, a command that Sammy didn't take lightly. He wants to help, he knows what to do, he serves no purpose just sitting here looking out while his brother and father kill those monsters.

He tried to convince his dad, but the argument only ended in being shoved in the car, a gun thrown into his lap "just in case", and the stern look that he had seen too many times.

Sam swallows and is careful to stay low, out of sight, an odd feeling rising in the back of his neck. Something's coming, he doesn't know how, but he knows it. He gulps, the gun slick under his sweaty hands. He has no idea what a simple bullet is gonna do to a vampire, but he hopes he'll be able to hold it off while Dean and his father get back.

And just like that, quicker than he can blink, it's there, and he doesn't have time to gasp before he hears glass shattering and something's dragging him from the haven of the car. He's lost the gun, everything going too fast for him to comprehend anything. Through his gasping and pounding of his heart, he can hear a low chuckle, see a flash of dark, hungry eyes, and the fear grips at him as a set of sharp fangs come into view. He scrambles around for the gun, for anything he can use to protect himself, but he's on the ground, about two feet away from the Impala.

The vampire is ready to attack, and the twelve year old just squeezes his eyes shut, waiting for impact.

Then it simply falls, limp and wounded, beside him.

It takes a moment for him to gather his thoughts, trying to breathe as evenly as he can manage as he stares up at the blue sky. He leans up on his elbows, shakes his hair out of his eyes, and suddenly Dean's smirking at him, a crossbow in his hands. "You okay, Sammy?"

Sammy swallows, he can't speak yet, and nods.


He watches the smoke rising from the trees silently, his eyes drooping. He's tired, and he didn't even do anything except get attacked, saved by his older brother, who he's sure isn't gonna leave him alone for weeks, teasing him about it. The poor kid is still shaking, the image of those eyes, and those teeth, unable to escape his mind. He doesn't understand how his father can face those kinds of things every day of his life, risk his life. He remembers Dean telling him that his father's a superhero, and as much as he wants to believe that, he just can't. Sure, his dad fights monsters, which makes him a hero in a way.

But John isn't Sam's hero. He lied to him, he was never around. Hell, he wasn't even the one who saved Sammy from the vampire. That was Dean.

He wishes that he could have a normal life. That his mom was still alive so he could meet her, that his father really was a salesmen, or a lawyer, or a mechanic, or a firefighter. That he could go to one school for his whole life, have lifelong friends. That he could come home to the unknown scent of homemade food instead of take out or cereal. That his father would tell him that the dark was nothing to be afraid of instead of just handing him a gun for protection.

There, sitting in the Impala, waiting for his family to finish off that monster, Sam Winchester hopes he'll have a chance at that life someday.