Rachel was tired. Not the cute, sleepy kind of tired though. The 11 cups of coffee and aching eyes sort of tired. The kind of tired that made her grumpy and short tempered and lose the colour from her face and the spark from her eyes. She was tired of life and she wanted to sleep for a very long time until it was all okay. But it would never be okay. Sleep couldn't bring her mum back and it couldn't make her more popular and it couldn't make her prettier and it couldn't give her the apple-pie life she yearned for. But she tried to sleep anyway.

Rachel and Sam had been in this town for a few weeks while Dean and her dad were on a hunt so much to her disappointment she had been made to go to school for the duration of their stay. Rachel hated school. She loved to learn like Sam and just absorbed knowledge but the hours of enclosed walls with shallow students who rejected any sign of abnormality and set out to make her life a living hell because she preferred books to make-up and the library over the mall were soul destroying. As a 15 year old hunter she could take down shapeshifters, gank demons and defeat ghosts but other teenagers, who threw insults at her, made her feel useless and weak. Rachel would never let on she was having a hard time to her brothers or dad, they were blissfully oblivious about it. But, nevertheless, the hate kept coming and her self-esteem was non-existent. Rachel was a Winchester. She refused to complain and just ignored it, letting the worthlessness build up in her gut until she felt like she'd explode.

She turned her head. 3:07am shone at her in vivid green light from the clock on the bedside table. Rachel fisted her pale hands into her dark brown hair in frustration that she couldn't let go of her consciousness. Her day had been long and tedious. This high school was like the others. One particular boy, Owen, decided it was his job to tell everyone that she was a whore and shoved her into a locker, earning a bruise on her shoulder. Sam had been particularly grouchy and complained to his sister about their deflating funds and stalked off to his room grumbling about Dad's lack of communication of how long he and Dean would be gone. Rachel was left in the kitchen with only the slamming of Sam's door as a farewell. She skipped dinner, not feeling the need to waste money, and crept to her own bed. 3:29am passed and the youngest Winchester was still turning in her bed. It was quiet and her churning thoughts were distracting. She felt personally responsible for her mother's death. If she hadn't cried that night then Mary Winchester wouldn't have come into her room and been killed by the demon. None of her family had ever blamed her but in the pit of her stomach she knew it was her fault. Rachel had continually failed her family. She had tripped up on hunts and got research wrong that could have been fatal. She was genuinely surprised that her brothers hadn't rejected her. All of her self-loathing bubbled to the surface and she had an itch in her left arm. Rachel had gained a nasty habit to help reduce the pressure under her skin that stemmed from her worthlessness. No longer ignoring the ache in her chest she slipped out of bed and padded to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Rachel slipped the blade out of her pocket that she had taken from under her pillow and held it in her palm, considering if this would be a good idea. Her self-control was slipping and she pressed the cold metal against her forearm lightly. She breathed deeply, her chest heavy for a release and she drew a thin line into her skin. Beads of crimson collected in the shallow valley of broken flesh, dark in contrast to her pale arm. That was for not being enough. Another for being a burden. And again for being weak. Once more for the bruise she got today. Oh, one for pretending to be okay when Sam asked. Yet again for being pathetic. A final one for just being alive. Placing the blade in the sink gently she gazed transfixed at the 7 neat red lines in between the scars of her previous cuts. Letting go of a breath she hadn't even realised she was holding in Rachel let her shoulders slump, partly in relief of having a lighter weight on her shoulders but partly in guilt that she was a freak for what she'd just done. She couldn't let people know that she did this, especially her family; they'd probably hate her more. Pushing the thoughts aside she grabbed some tissue and wiped her arm clean before shrugging on a loose sweater and tiptoeing back to bed with her knife. Rachel slid the blade under her pillow for safe keeping next to her gun and fell into a weary slumber.

o-o-o-0-o-o-o

"Morning" Sam mumbled to his sister as he emerged from his room the next morning, hair sticking up at odd angles and rubbing his eyes.

"Hey Sam" she murmured back. Rachel was finishing off a piece of homework at the table and nursing a cup of coffee. A comfortable silence settled as Sam made some toast but he carefully scanned the young Winchester in big brother mode. He noticed his sister's clothes fitted a little less well than a week ago and her eyes were less bright. Sam cocked his head slightly to one side as he observed the dark circles under her eyes, her pale skin and unwashed hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. He hadn't properly taken in his baby sister's appearance for a while, he had been so caught up in trying to keep the money going and simultaneously attempting to keep up with school work. A pang of guilt hit him with the realisation that he hadn't been paying attention to Rachel's wellbeing as much as he'd like and something was definitely wrong judging by the hunched shoulders and glazed eyes.

"You alright, Ray?" Sam's voice startled Rachel. When he usually asked her that question it was light, a passing question that was probably not meant to be answered truthfully, like a brotherly obligation to ask it at least once a day. But this time Sam's eyes were a little wider, his eyebrows slightly furrowed and his tone genuinely concerned. Rachel realised that in her tired state she wasn't keeping up her usual content façade so she quickly forced her lips into a smile and nodded. Sam's frown deepened as the smile didn't reach her dead eyes and he was about to push further when his sister scuttled out of the room muttering an excuse. Something was wrong and it worried him but he didn't have the time right now so decided to pick the subject up after school.

John had gone with Dean in the Impala and had left his truck for Sam to use. Rachel and Sam drove to school in silence, both deep in thought. Sam was trying to come up with a theory as to why his sister was so… off. He didn't think she looked physically ill and he couldn't think of anything that she could be intensely worried about but Sam couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something. As they pulled into the car park Rachel slowly started to gather her stuff and leave the car but Sam grabbed her shoulder.

"You know you can tell me anything, right? Just, you know, in case something is bothering you. I am your brother, Ray. I do worry about you." Sam's words held worry.

"It's fine Sammy. Don't worry about me." Sam noticed her forced smile again and he sighed and loosened his grip on her shoulder. She slipped out of the truck and walked into school followed by a frowning Sam.