"It's alright to cry,
even my dad does sometimes.
So don't wipe your eyes,
tears remind you that you're alive...

"It okay to shake,
even my hand does sometimes."–Ed Sheeran "Even My Dad Does Sometimes"

"Sammy?" I murmured. I stood at the entrance of the doorway, taking in the sight of my brother's body. He was limp and sobs were wracking through his fragile, thirteen year old body. I looked around the room for a danger that wasn't there. "Sammy, what's wrong?"

"N- nothing. I'm fine." He lied.

"You sure as hell don't look fine."

"Just leave me alone, please Dean. I want to be alone."

But I didn't, instead, I walked up to where he was lying on the bed, face down, crying into the motel pillow, and I sat down next to him, my hand on the crook of his back.

"What happened? Here get up and look at me" I put my hand under his underarm, trying to hoist him up so he would look at me.

"Nothing Dean" he was refusing to look into my eyes, so I put my hand under his chin, forcing him to look at me.

"Tell me the truth."

"There is this boy; he has been picking on me. He won't leave me alone."

"Geez Sam, why don't you just hit the little prick?"

He sniffled, tears spilling from his eyes- it was a waterfall I didn't want to see. I just wanted his tears to stop.

"Because he is a lot bigger then I am" My eyes narrowed in anger.

"How old is he?"

"17 I think."

"Who is it?"

"It doesn't matter"

"What has he been saying?" I asked him, I hated seeing him like this so I wrapped my arm around him and he cried into the crook of my neck.

"That I'm a loser. He pushes me down on the ground and he kicks my books away. He ripped up my favourite book and threw it in the bin. It was the one you got me, Dean. He told me to go kill myself."

I was pissed, beyond pissed actually. I wanted to find out who this fucking kid was and rip him to pieces. He thinks he is so tough ganging up on a kid 4 years younger than him? I've ganked wendigos, ghosts- demons even; one shit face asshole has got nothing on me. I'm going to kill him.

"Don't you ever listen to those little shits, you hear me?" I put him at arm's length so I could look him in the eye. "You're not a loser." He wiped his tears, shaking slightly. "You're the coolest little nerd I've ever met."

I wiped his tears away with the pad of my thumb.

"But I'm weak. Men don't cry."

"It's okay to cry, even dad does sometimes." I admitted. Sam had never seen that side of dad. He only ever saw the strong side of him, the one that was focused on killing the thing that killed our mum.

"I'll tell you the same thing dad told me when I used to cry: it's okay to cry, because tears can remind you that you're alive."

"You used to cry?" He asked- he looked more childlike then I have ever seen him in his 13 years of existence. His eyes were wide and his mouth was agape slightly as he looked up at me.

"Yeah, all the time; I felt like giving up."

"Why?"

"Because, when you're a hunter you see the world as a different place. You know you're not as safe as you were when you didn't. You thought that the only monsters in this world were human, but that's not true. There are ghosts and demons, who the hell knows what else there is out there Sammy." I took a breath and I looked out the window of our beat up motel.

"I used to cry all the time because I wanted mum, and then she'd be there. But then I woke up and it was just a dream. I wanted it to be real, but it wasn't."

"I don't even remember her"

"Maybe it's for the best Sammy. You can't miss what you don't remember."

His tears had stopped falling but he still looked a little worse for wear as he looked down at the blankets.

"Look at me Sammy." When he looked up, I began talking.

"Don't you ever listen to someone like that, ever, you hear me?" He nodded his head. "They're wrong. You are not a loser. You're the coolest little dude I've ever met and if they can't see that well then there is something wrong with them. You're going places, you're the smartest person I know and I could not have gotten a better little brother, even if you are annoying. You'll meet that douche bag in 10 or so years and he'll be a fat taxi driver with no wife or kids. He'll hate life. He may be popular now but nobody wants to put up with an asshole like that. Those who hate you fall under two categories. The stupid and the envious: the stupid will like you in ten years time, the envious, never"

"That was deep, where'd you steal that from?"

I chuckled. "The Libertine, but it came in handy"

That night Sam slept in the same bed as me, he didn't want to be alone, and that was understandable. So I let him.

After that night, that guy never bullied Sam again. I made sure of it.