A/N Hello! I am a long-time SPN fan and fanfic reader, but a new writer. I'll probably have some mistakes so bear with me please(or write a comment). I'd also appreciate if someone would at one point offer to beta for me. This idea hasn't left my head for ages so I decided to finally set it free from the confines of my mind.

What you may want to know... There are going to be spoilers up to season 11(don't know about season 12 yet). I won't meddle with whatever the awesome writers of Supernatural have planned for season 12. It's gonna be cannon...I think. :)


Chapter 1 - Fighting against the Life

At the age of seventeen Sam knows he's different. He had always been strange from everyone else; at least from the normal people.

However, this was something else entirely. He was different from his family – from his overbearing father and his loyal, protective older brother.

Needless to say - it hurt. He was annoyed and easily irritable in the day, but at night, when his brother was sound asleep and his father had finally collapsed from exhaustion, it hurt. It hurt so bad Sam could have cried, but he didn't. He was a Winchester. With that name came honor, pride, and utter stubbornness. Winchester men didn't show weakness, they buried it deep inside and locked it with thousand different locks and hoped that they accidentally didn't rip them open.

So when a new hunt came up and John gruffly ordered them to pack their stuff as quickly as possible and leave the God forgotten hole, which was their motel room, Sam made a face, growled under his nose, but complied. He would have said a word - or ten - to John, but the warm squeeze on his shoulder tied his tongue in knots and he did what he had done all his life. He listened to his brother.

However, the fact that with every day it seemed to get harder and harder added to the already existing pain in his heart.

Eventually, they found themselves in Lebanon, Kansas, where his dad thought a poltergeist was terrorizing the local church. There were no dead bodies, but that was just a matter of time. It was always a possibility. One they couldn't always avoid and which brought so much unnecessary pain and heartbreak in Sam's life he sometimes felt like drowning in it.

"Got us a room." John Winchester pulled open the door and sat down, handing the key to Dean. Sam noticed number eleven on the grayish key-ring as it was passed in front of him. Great. In front of him was another night of trying to share the room with two grown men. Lately, he seemed to prefer abandoned scary houses with a lot of space rather than cheap, small motel rooms.

"What's the plan?" Dean asked while John steered the black muscle car to the parking lot in front of their room. Sam noticed that the number consisted of two different colored digits. He didn't have to be a genius to know what that usually told about the room. He hoped the job would be easy enough and they will be out of the dump by the start of the next week.

"…am? SAM!" His father's sharp shout pulled him back from self-pity and he glanced outside. Dean was already at the door trying to open the door while balancing out the weapons' bag and his own duffle. "Stop dreaming." John grumbled and Sam tried not to think about the shadow of disappointment, which seemed to never leave his father's features. At least not when he spoke to him.

"Get some shut eye, boys!" He ordered once they were settled inside and had done their routine security measures. "I'll go gather some information on the church."

"At the bar?" The words slipped past Sam's lips before he had a chance to think them through.

"Sam!" He heard Dean hiss at him, but his eyes wouldn't leave John's suddenly enraged face.

"What did you say?"

"It 10pm." Sam decided to go for the kill. "Where else would you go?"

"Do you think you're being smart?" Sam tried to mask the shivers that ran down his spine at his father's voice. The room suddenly got even smaller than it already was.

"Just forget it." He considered his options and decided to give up. "Do what you want."

Sam turned away before John could insist on starting a fight and quickly locked himself in the bathroom. Only seconds later he heard the front door shut as well and sighed. Now dad would definitely be gone for the whole night.

"What's the matter with you, Sam?" He heard Dean's annoyed voice and allowed his head to thud against the dirty white tiled wall. "What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing." He whispered to himself, fully acknowledging the fact that he was trying to fool himself. Dean couldn't hear him. No one could. He bumped his head against the wall one more time and squeezed his eyes shut.

The pain was getting worse. He couldn't take it anymore. This was not his life. He couldn't pretend to be okay with it anymore. To deal with the pain, gore, and fear which came with their lifestyle. It was eating away at him. He was betraying himself.

And there was something worse.

By having these thoughts alone, he felt like he was betraying Dean. The most important person in his life. The one who kept taking care of him, who supported him and loved him no matter how many stunts he had pulled.

The problem was that Sam knew; if he went through with his plan, which was still foggy and uncertain around the edges, he wasn't sure Dean would take him back anymore.

In the world he was living in the word 'university' could be just as dangerous as a silver knife to a shapeshifter. For him it wouldn't cut flesh, it would tear apart something much, much deeper and more valuable.

"Sam?" The voice outside changed its tone to worried and Sam just barely swallowed a sob. If Dean knew what he thought about he wouldn't worry anymore, he would probably rear back and punch him. "Dude, don't monopolize the bathroom."

Sam let out a pathetic laugh at his brother's weak attempt at humor and gathered himself together.

"Wait a minute." He flushed the toilet and rinsed his face before stepping out again and meeting face to face with searching green eyes.

"Finally." The snickering tone didn't match his serious eyes, but Sam played along. "What? Did you turn into a girl and locked yourself in the bathroom to cry?"

"Yeah, right." Sam pushed past him roughly. "Jerk."

"Bitch." Dean barked before disappearing behind bathroom's door.

They didn't talk about it anymore. Dean didn't go out that night and Sam didn't ask why. It was late and they were both tired so they each slumped in their own bed and tried to fall asleep. Sam was used to the thin motel walls and the sound of an occasional car driving by, but for some reason, even the annoying fly buzzing in the corner of the room felt too loud. It was quiet enough to lull Dean to sleep, but it felt like on the edge of deafening to Sam.

It was no wonder that when he heard the door slam open and their father stumble inside, dawn had already started to creep into the dark room through the gap in the curtains.

Sam listened as his father shuffled around, but didn't show that he was awake. When the grunts finally stopped and John seemed to have settled, Sam quietly sniffed the air. The heavy aroma of alcohol didn't surprise him. He sighed and turned to the other side. He doubted he'd fall asleep, but it didn't hurt to try.

The morning was…bearable. Sam had barely slept an hour, dad was hungover and cranky and Dean was visibly annoyed at the tension between his family members. Dean's solution to that was sending Sam to get them some breakfast, which in their family meant 'go take a breather'.

When Sam returned with three coffees and a bag of sandwiches, dad wasn't smelling like someone had spilled a bottle of whiskey over him anymore and Dean was running through their fake IDs.

"So?" He set the food down on the table in front of both his family members and sat down on the bed. "What's the plan?"

"Nuns, Sammy." Dean snickered.

"Dean, you know they are called nuns for a reason, right?" Sam squinted at his joyous brother, fully aware that Dean was trying to distract him from starting another brawl with dad.

"Sam's right, Dean." John scolded the middle Winchester, not even bothering to lift his eyes from the worn-out journal in his hands. "No fooling around."

Dean winked at him secretly and Sam just huffed out a breath. It didn't go unnoticed to him that he still hadn't gotten a clear answer.

"I and Dean will go and check out the church." Their dad seemed to finally notice the unrelenting death stares Sam was giving him. "I want you, Sam, in the library."

It was nothing new. Sam was well aware he was the best when it came to research, but that didn't mean he enjoyed being continuously sidelined.

John must have sensed the dissatisfaction radiating from Sam because he shot him a challenging look. Sam was just too tired of the never-ending arguments so he clenched his teeth and looked sideways at his brother, who was munching on Sam's sandwich.

"When do we leave?" Dean inquired, finishing his food.

"Now." John put down the journal and stretched his arms. He hadn't even touched the coffee.

"Now?" Sam shouted. He had thought they'd give him at least some time to research before heading for the haunted church.

"Yes." John's answer was sharp and short. It was meant to end the conversation, but Sam refused to give his father such pleasure. There went his hesitation to start another fight.

"At least give me some time to check out the history of the place." Sam exclaimed. He had somehow ended up on his feet and was now looking down at John.

Bad idea. John Winchester did not like being looked down upon.

"And sit around doing nothing?" His father was up on his feet, though it didn't matter much. Sam had outgrown the man a couple of months ago.

"You can go interview some witnesses or something." Sam decided not to mention the fact, that they could go do research together.

"Don't teach me how to do my job!" John growled.

The poor choice of words and his father's authoritative way of speaking pushed Sam just that one inch further for him to topple over the edge.

"THIS IS NOT YOUR JOB!" Sam shouted back waving at their motel room with its yellow wallpaper and bed sheets, which had long since lost their original color. He just barely heard Dean's loud gasp over his own erratic breathing.

"What?" John squinted at him and Sam involuntarily stepped back.

"Dad stop it!" Dean was suddenly between them. "Sam's not thinking straight."

"I am thinking fine." Sam shouted at Dean's back. If he thought that fighting with his father hurt, then having Dean take John's side was unbearable.

"Just for once can you not argue and just do what I order?" John shouted back, despite Dean's efforts to keep him quiet.

"Order?" Sam screamed back. "I am not a soldier! I am your so…"

Sam didn't finish. A faint sound interrupted his train of thoughts and he looked around. Dean and Dad seemed to have noticed it as well because they didn't try to keep arguing.

A wail-like sound reached his ears although it could barely be heard.

"Do you hear it?" He whispered, trying to find the source of it.

"What is that?" Dean looked to John for answers, but for once, John seemed just as baffled as they were.

Even if he knew something, he couldn't have answered. The sound steadily grew louder and more intense till they had to cover their ears.

"What the hell!?" Dean yelled, slamming palms over his ears.

It felt like something was splitting Sam' head in two. He let out a shout of pain and crumbled to the floor.

"SAM!" He saw Dean's mouth move, but couldn't hear anything over the deafening sound.

He squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ears, trying to cover as much of his head as possible when he felt rather than saw his surroundings light up.

He felt someone cover his head with his own body, but couldn't focus on who it was. The ear-splitting noise and the blinding light left him numb and vulnerable.

Sam felt like his head would explode. He felt his own lips moving and screaming for his brother and father, but he was deaf to his own screams. His senses were overwhelmed and he knew he was rapidly losing the fight to stay conscious.

Then it stopped.

Before Sam could slip into obliviousness, it stopped.

The sound suddenly vanished and the light disappeared, leaving three sets of heavy wheezing filling the quiet of the room.