A/N: Hope you enjoy this story, let me know if I should continue it It's my first time writing a supernatural fanfic, so please excuse me if the characters seem a bit off, I'm still trying to find my feet, so to speak XD As always, favourites, follows and reviews are much appreciated if you like the story, they let me know if it's going ok :) Oh and to the readers of my other story, I am working on a sequel; it should be up sometime in the near future ;) Well, that's it from me, hope you like the story!

Chapter 1: Mistakes

Three hunters sat in a small motel room, its walls lined with tacky beige wallpaper and a stained carpet. Silence was draped across the room like a shroud, as the small family sat cleaning guns, preparing for the evening's hunt.

"Um…Dad…" Sam started, not quite sure how to word what he wanted to say.

"What?" came his father's gruff reply from the bed opposite. Dean looked anxiously between the pair; as if he was worried he may soon have to act as peacemaker between them, as he had many times before.

Sam took a deep, slow breath, before breaching a subject that couldn't be avoided. It was like the proverbial elephant in his and John's relationship, a subject that Sam had unsuccessfully tried to bring up many times before.

"It's- It's about college…" He began, slowly gaining in confidence. He couldn't stay silent any longer. "I've been offered a place by Stanford, and… I accepted."

John slowly put down his gun, his face hidden in shadows. Sam's heart sped up at the tension, fearful of his father s response. The silence was even worse than shouting; at least when John was shouting, Sam knew where he stood. But when it was silent, Sam had no idea what his father was thinking, and he hated not knowing. That was one of the reasons he drunk in knowledge greedily; he never wanted to be in a position in which he knew nothing.

After several minutes of silence, Dean decided to speak up. "Sammy…"

"No." His father interrupted, silencing his eldest son with a meaningful glare. Dean, as John knew he would, backed down without a fight.

"You aren't going to Stanford Sam. I won't allow it."

"You can't stop me!" Sam shouted, outraged. His father was always telling him what he could and couldn't do, and he was sick of it. He had never understood how Dean could just take the man's orders and say nothing. Did he not ever think that maybe their dad was wrong? That maybe he could actually be wrong for once? Was that really that difficult to imagine?

"I can and I will. You are not walking away from your family. We need you more than you think you need an education. How on earth will a degree from Stanford help you with hunting?"

"Did you ever stop to think maybe I don't want to be a hunter?" Sam yelled angrily.

"Sam…" Dean warned, knowing they were approaching a touchy subject; one which he knew would end with him being the one awkwardly trying to diffuse the tension.

"No Dean, I'm fed up of this. You always just agree with him, no questions asked. You'd probably shoot me if he told you to!" Sam shouted, but instantly regretted his words as his face filled with colour. "Dean, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

"Yes you did." Dean replied coldly. After all he had done for the his little brother, how could Sam even imagine that he'd ever hurt him? There was nothing Dean would place before his baby brother, not even their dad. Heck, he'd basically raised the kid! "I can't believe…" Dean growled, but was once again silenced by his father interrupting him.

"It doesn't matter. You're not going, that's final. How are we meant to keep you out of trouble if you're not with us? What if your next mistake ends with someone from that college dying?" John stated coldly, bluntly.

"Next-Next mistake?" Sam spluttered, infuriated. "What do you mean next mistake? There wasn't a last one!"

John seemed to falter slightly, as if questioning what he had just said, before strengthening his resolve. If hurting his son's feelings was what it took to make him stay, then so be it. "Yes, your next mistake. I have no doubt that you'll make one. Whether it's tomorrow, or in a year's time, it doesn't matter, but it will happen. It'll get someone killed, someone who would've lived if you just stayed with Dean and me!"

Even Dean was shocked at his father's words. He knew John wanted the kid to stay, but he had gone way too far. He was about to speak up, but was beaten to it by Sam.

"Is that what you think?" Sam asked quietly, the fight completely gone from him. Instead, his face was filled with sorrow, his puppy eyes almost pleading. Dean's heart broke at the sight of it. Yep, his dad had definitely gone way too far, and Dean was well and truly pissed.

"I... I've tried to be the son you wanted, to be more like Dean. But it just isn't me! Every day in training I try my best and yet it still isn't good enough, you still think I'll get someone hurt. I just can't take it anymore." Sam mumbled, his eyes glued to the ground as if he was scared to look at his family.

"Ah Sammy…" Dean started, taking a step towards his brother to comfort him. His heart shattered into even smaller pieces when his brother flinched.

"I should… I should go…" Sam whispered, stumbling backwards in a bid towards the door.

"Samuel. Stop right there." John said. He would not just stand there and let his son leave, not like this.

"Yes sir." Sam gave up any hopes of escape. If he couldn't leave, then he'd have to prove to his father that he wasn't a mistake. He'd try even harder than before to be the perfect son. If that meant no arguments and being the soldier John wanted, then so be it.

"I'm going to get some more rock salt. You better still be here when I get back. "John said coldly, before leaving the room. Sam turned away from his brother and slumped down onto the motel bed.

"Sammy," Dean started tentatively," He didn't mean it, he was just scared…"

Sam laughed humourlessly. "Dad- scared? No, he was right: I'm just a mistake waiting to happen."

"No you're not Sam! He just-"

"Dean, save it. I'm tired, I just want to sleep- please?" He pleaded quietly with a weak smile, before closing his eyes, making it evident that the conversation was over. But that didn't stop Dean from worrying about his baby brother.

SPN-

Sam pulled his thick jacket tighter around himself, trying to block out the cold winter air. It was seven in the evening, and it was time for the hunt to start. The first flakes of snow were beginning to drift down from the dark night's sky, the only light in the derelict room coming from the bright orb that hung in the inky blackness, surrounded by thousands of small lights. Frost had already covered the ground, giving the world a tint of white, a slight glow. It made the graveyard seem pure; ironic considering they were hunting a ghost. No doubt the frozen ground was making the digging difficult for Dean and John, and yet they showed no sign of complaint. They knew what needed to be done and they did it. No moaning, no whining, just silence as the two men worked, sweat glistening on their brows despite the briskness of the air. Sam looked on sadly from his spot in the abandoned building above. Why can't I be more like them? He thought miserably. Why am I so different? He hadn't dared to say anything else about Stanford; the idea of going there had been firmly pushed aside. All that was left to do now was to let the college know he had changed his mind, that he wouldn't be coming after all. The thought pained him, but he couldn't risk getting someone hurt just so that he could have a couple years away from a job that he'd get dragged back into anyway. He might as well keep up the training and maybe one day he wouldn't be such a burden.

His father's earlier words had hurt him more than he was ever willing to let on. If only he could be more like Dean, maybe his father would like him more. Maybe he wouldn't see Sam as a mistake.

He pulled the gun closer to his body as his dad and Dean continued to dig up the grave below of the spirit that was supposedly murdering teenagers. Sam had been told to go to the second floor on the building that overlooked the graveyard, to keep watch for the spirit and warn his family if it appeared. It was unlikely that it would just stand by and watch its remains burn. But surprisingly, nothing happened as John threw a lighter onto the salted corpse, making it go up in flames. Sam watched on as Dean made his way into the building to find him. Instead of just standing uselessly waiting for his brother to find him, Sam began to walk towards the door before freezing suddenly. He had a bad feeling, which was justified when he felt the air get significantly colder. Sam panicked briefly, realising that the ghost was in the room with him, but his hunter instincts quickly kicked in as he raised his rock salt-filled gun. He almost shouted out to warn his brother, but thought better of it, believing that it would just make him look weak.

He saw the spirit flicker into view a few feet from where he was standing, its appearance shocking him. It was a boy, no older than himself, covered in scars and ugly blue bruises. One scar was particularly noticeable; it stretched across the spirit's face diagonally from his forehead to his chin. Sam almost felt pity for the spirit. As always, he'd been the one who'd had to do the research, and he couldn't help but relate to the spirit. The ghost was of a 16 year old teen, Brian Hendrick, who'd accidently gotten his younger brother hurt. He wasn't watching him when he was playing around a road, and before Brian knew it, a car had slammed into his baby brother's small form. The little boy survived with just a few broken bones, but their dad never forgave Brian. He brutally abused Brian, told him that it was his fault, that he was worthless; a mistake. He had twisted the poor teen's mind to the point where Brian actually felt he deserved punishing. He died 2 years after his brother's accident, when his dad had one too many to drink and beat Brian to death. With a story like that, it was no wonder the teen's spirit had lingered on as a ghost, punishing those who felt they were a disappointment to their parents. Because of him, four teenagers had been murdered, and as sorry as Sam felt for the kid, it was time to put him to rest. He deserved peace after what had happened to him. Sam felt he kind of understood what it was like to not feel wanted, to feel like a disappointment. But Sam knew he had it nowhere near as bad as this kid had, so he thought himself lucky. It was cases like this that reminded him not all monsters were supernatural, that sometimes the ones that hurt you the most were the ones who were meant to care for you.

Sam was shaken out of his thoughts when the spirit materialised in front of him, but he paused for one fatal moment, feeling pity towards the twisted soul that stood before him. That minute pause was all it took. In seconds he felt himself flying through the air.

Dean walked into the room just in time to realise they'd burned the wrong corpse, and to see Sam flung out of the window and towards the pavement waiting below.

"Sammy!" He screamed as his baby brother disappeared from sight.