So this is yet another one-shot inspired the Creative Writing Club's prompt: write a piece inspired by your favorite song. Now, I've got many favorite songs, so I went with Awolnation's "Kill Your Heroes." It's a very, very, very, (1,000,000 more 'very's inserted here) good song, so I suggest you listen to it... just not while you read this fic, because what I thought I was writing turned into something else.

That "something else" is dark... *looks around innocently* ... I'll admit, I'm not very sorry about it... xD

Anyway, I do not own Supernatural or Awolnation's "Kill Your Heroes," and SPOILER ALERT for basically anything up through all of season three.

I hope you enjoy this fic (no matter how dark it is)!

maybe then, would be now

Sam had thought that John understood. That's the one thing that always came up in his mind, whenever he got distracted and suddenly began thinking about those last few days, those last few hours before he left for Stanford. The problem was, until he found out about what was really out there, about the monsters and the blood and the demons, about John's hunter journal and his mother burning on the ceiling above his crib, his dad really had understood. At least, it seemed like he had.

John would attend his parent-teacher conferences. He would walk Sam to school if he had time, and if he didn't, he would drive. He encouraged Sam to do his best in school, to get good grades so Sam could be whatever he wanted when he grew up. Sometimes, John would have to leave for the night, or for a day, but it would always be with a hug, quick kiss, and "Bye, baby boy, be good for Dean."

Sam would respond with an enthusiastic hug back, scrunched up nose at the kiss, and "Not a baby, Daddy, but 'kay."

That was when Sam was four, when he was five, then six, seven, and suddenly eight rolled around and it became, "Dean, look after your brother. Bye, Sammy," because for some reason Sam had thought it a good idea to pester his brother until he showed Sam Dad's journal and explained just what a "wendigo" was.

Sam was eighteen when he wished to be "baby boy" again, wished he hadn't scrunched up his nose, wished he had lived his whole life without ever questioning John's job as a marketing salesman, wished he actually believed himself when he said he could live until eighty if he wanted to. Sam didn't want to. Not anymore. Not as Sammy, anyway. Not without Dean, who was suffering in hell because Sammy had gotten himself stabbed in the back, had his spinal cord ripped clean through, had his face deathly pale because he was dead, had literally died in his brother's arms. Sam wasn't Sammy. Not anymore. Now, Sammy was Sam. Not Sammy, who even at eighteen had wanted to be "baby boy." Not Sammy, who glued his brother's hand to his beer bottle - he didn't even have a brother, not anymore. Not Sammy, who hadn't shot Azazel when the demon had been possessing John because the demon had been possessing John.

Sam, who wished he could go back and shoot his father in the head, kill Azazel, kill his father, save Dean, because as it was now, they were all dead anyway, and maybe if Azazel had died then, Dean would be alive now.

Maybe his daddy would understand again.

So... yeah... that just happened. xD I do hope you all liked it, and please review! :)