Author's note: Hope you like the new developments. Thanks for reading and please, please review!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is Not Going to Be My Life

John called the boys in a couple hours later, pleased to see that they both looked relaxed but not exhausted. He set them to work cleaning the weapons, preparing for the hunt. They set to, following a familiar rhythm, the silence broken only by the sound of their light hearted conversation.

"I totally beat you!" Sam was saying, his voice cheerful and cheeks flushed with the exertion of the game.

"No, way man. You fouled me!" Dean replied for the sake of argument.

"You're such a baby. I barely touched you."

"Whatever, cheater."

"I didn't cheat! You're the one who cheated. You were totally out of bounds when you made that shot."

"Yeah, but I get extra points for style," Dean answered, smirking. "You gotta admit, that was priceless."

Sam rolled his eyes but let it go. The two of them made quick work of the equipment, their expert hands working over the weapons, sensitive to any change or resitance that might cause them problems later on.

"Finish up, you two," John ordered. "I want to get out of here in 30 minutes."

He and Pastor Jim had decided to scope out the woods in the morning, taking the afternoon to get as much information as they could from the locals. The two hunters had a debate going, Jim thought that the disappearances were caused by a creature, a wendigo or a black dog. John thought the signs pointed to curse of some kind, probably tied to the woods where the disappearances had taken place. They would find out tomorrow when they got a look at the site.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked. His voice was more relaxed and he seemed to be showing the proper respect, but both John and Dean tensed a little at the question. John looked exasperated. Everything about the eleven year old seemed to be against protocol.

"Dean, you are going to talk to the daughter of Michael Crandell,¨ John said, consulting his notes momentarily. "Laura Crandell. Her father and twin brother went missing a week ago. Crandell was last seen heading out of town with his teenage son, age 17, some kind of local baseball star. The girl goes to the local high school, works at soda shop on 5th street. I´ll drop you off. See if you can´t get some information out of her."

"Yes, sir." Dean responded, grinning in satisfaction. Sam rolled his eyes.

"I mean about the hunt." Said John, ammusment evident in his voice.

"Yes, sir," Dean said, ducking his head and blushing.

"I am going to talk to the local police to see if they know anything."

Dean snorted, indicating how likely he thought that was. Sam looked uncomfortable, knowing that his father planned on impersenating a federal agent. It made him nervous, but he knew better than to say anything about that. He also knew his father had purposefully held his assignment till the end, an indication of irritation or dissipointment that had not escaped the younger boy. Sam struggled with his emotions as he waited impatiently. A familiar tension returned to his chest, but he refused to give his father the upperhand.

John gave him a hard look, one that made Sam squirm, feeling like he had failed some test because he hadn´t understood the question. "You and Jim are going to visit the Hansons. Their the closest relatives of George Paulson, the man who went missing yesterday.

That´s all you´re going to tell me? Sam thought, incredulous. There was an awkward pause in which Sam was on the recieving end of two expectant glares. "Yes, sir," he yelped as Dean pinched him.

Moments later, John and Dean headed out while Jim finished some church business. Sam sat on the porch, feeling fairly abandoned. A year ago they would have tag teamed it. Dean would play backup, storming in with a Where the hell were you? or maybe that tender Jeez, kid, what happened to you? that would get the girls talking. Dean was old enough for a fake id, which put a lightyears difference between the brothers. Now Dean spent most of his time messing around with the high school girls when he wasn´t training with Dad and he had made it clear that Sam was to make himself scarce when he was talking to a girl. He´s so perfect, Sam thought bitterly. Even more disturbing was thought that quickly followed: They don´t need me here. It was like he had been written out of the family script.

Sam remebered when Dean had first explained the game to him:

"See that girl over there?" asked Dean, leaning down to look the four- year- old in the face.

"Yeah," Said Sammy, watching the girl refilling coffee across the street.

"Well," Said the eight year old. "I want you to go over and tell her that you´re lost. That you´re looking for your dad, okay?"

"I´m not supposed to cross the street by myself. Dad said," Sammy protested.

"I´m going to be right here." Dean said, exasperated. "Just wait till I say to go."

"But Dean, Dad´s not lost. He´s right there in the car," Sam looked confused.

"It´s just pretend Sammy. We want to talk to that girl about the, about the ghost that killed that other girl, remember?"

"Oh" Sam said, now completely lost. "Won´t Dad be mad?"

"No way, Sammy. He´ll be proud of you."

"He will?" Sam asked, incredulous.

"Sure. I promise. Just do what I said, okay?"

"Okay," said Sam, turning resolutely to the street. Dean smiled proudly and when the coast was clear, he gave Sam the signal. The four year old scrambled across. Sammy wandered down the street, stopping to pet the dog that was resting outside the café before he headed inside. Sam knew that Dean was watching anxiously and he looked back to reassure him before he let the door close behind him.

He got a couple of curious glances, but Sam didn´t respond. His eyes sought out the girl Dean had pointed to. She wore a name tag that said Jenny on her uniform. Sam wasn´t scared, he was too young to know all the bad things that could happen. All he wanted was to make his Dad proud, so he went up to the woman. She didn´t look down and nearly tripped over him. At least that got her attention. Brown eyes glared down suspiciously, causing the four- year- old to shrink back.

"I´m looking for my Dad," Said Sammy, his small voice trembling.

"Well, is he here?" She asked curiously, abandoning the coffee pot and bending down. Her face was way too close to Sam´s and he could smell the coffee in her breath.

"No." It came out as a kind of a wail. "I´m lost." Sam summoned tears, the ones that never seemed to work on his father but always had his babysitters bending over backwards to cheer him up. He ran one chubby fist through his unruly hair.

"It´s okay," the woman said, patting his head uncertainly and looking around the cafe. Sam looked mornfully at the door, but allowed her to lead him to the counter and accepted the chocolate milkshake she offered, trying to remember to look sad. "What does your dad look like?" Jenny questioned.

Sam thought for a minute. "He´s really tall," he said seriously. When Jenny looked like she was hiding a laugh, Sam let his eyes fill again. "I just want my dad," he said mournfully.

Before he had time to really panic, John had came striding in, Dean at his heels. He picked Sammy up, pulling him into a hug that was so tight it caused some of the brimming tears to fall. Sam was a little scared that despite what Dean said, John was going to yell at him. He clung to his father´s jacket and, to his surprise, John kissed his head gently and ran a comforting hand through his hair before pulling him out so their eyes met. "Don´t you ever scare me like that again? Do you hear?" He growled gently, but Sam could see that his eyes weren´t mad.

"Yes, sir." Sam responded, ´cause he didn´t know what to say. He wanted to ask if John was proud of him, but Dad pressed him firmly into his shoulder for another long hug, whispering a comforting "Shhh," in the boy´s ear, which was also an order to stop talking.

Sam got to sit on his dad´s lap for the rest of the afternoon and he got another milkshake. He didn´t really understand what the woman was talking about, but John and Dean were riveted, so he kept his mouth shut and dozed until Dad was ready to go.

He woke when Dad shook him, prompting gently, "Sammy, what do you say?"

"Yes, sir?" Sammy guessed, drowzily.

"Thank you." John supplied, sharing a smile with Jenny.

"Thank you." Sammy responded dutifully.

Dad carried him across the street, buckling him into the back of the impala and running a hand through the four year old´s hair.

"Did I do good?" Sam asked sleepily as John started the engine.

"Yeah, that was really great, Sammy" Dean said enthusiastically, but Sammy wanted to hear his dad say it.

"DAD, was that good?"

John´s eyes met Sam´s through the mirror of the impala. "Don´t yell," he said firmly. When the boy looked wounded, John added "That was fine, Sammy."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I still haven´t managed to make John proud, thought the eleven-year-od as he waited obediently for Pastor Jim to finish his business before they could head out.