Hey guys! So this is the first fanfic I've ever written (this series started in 2012, how crazy is that?) and now I'm finally going through older chapters and editing them, trying to improve them as best I can and thought why not share them on more sites for you lovely humans to enjoy? That's how we find ourselves here! Haha! I'll try to update (new chapters and old) as soon as I can each time I post, please give me your honest thoughts and feedback! It is always welcome, even criticism, I think of it as 'constructive' haha!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters of the television show Supernatural or any of the character that are mentioned or shown on the show. I do not own the ideas of the television show Supernatural. I do own the characters that I, myself, have created such as Natalie and other OCs.
I'll be work along the actual story line of the show, but I will also be adding a lot of my own ideas, so please bear with me! Most of the story will be done in Natalie's point of view but it will switch from character to character too and I will state as such, I also may do random crossovers too at some point!
Note: Natalie and Sam have a five-year age difference and Dean has a three-year difference between him and Sam, which means there's a eight-year age gap between Natalie and Dean!
P.S. This chapter has been edited (in 2016 on my user ZombieliciousXIII) and I'm working my through the chapters, so please bear with me as the formatting of events and even details of the story may change once they've undergone editing - all edited chapters will now have titles!
All right enough from me and back to the story!
(Natalie's P.O.V)
I remember the first time I'd ever seen Sam cry, I was five years old…it was terrifying.
I had heard the sound of yelling and shouting coming from the living room, I remember it scaring me to the point of wanting to hide away until it'd all stop. Being a child, back then I never understood what every fight that happened between Sam, Dean and our father meant, and to me our dad just seemed like a scary person. I wanted to hide, but not under the bed - not that there was any room under there - or in the closet, I wanted to hide under the bed covers with Sam like I we had done every time I was scared in the past. I remember hearing a loud crash coming from the living room, which caused my fear to heighten and I refused to stay still any longer, scared that something was wrong but more so that I needed to see Sam - I needed comfort.
"Smam!" I yelled as I shot up to run out of our room, leaving my horrendously colored picture of Elmo unfinished.
I had arrived into the living room just in time to see my brother running passed me into our room, I turned and began to run after my older brother, as fast as my little legs would take me. I remember not understanding why Sam was crying and running away from our father and Dean, who both looked angry and upset, but it hadn't mattered to me because all I had wanted was my brother - all I wanted was Sam. Looking back, it must have had something to do with the 'discussion' that he had with them, and despite the vague memories it was of it was clear it seemed more like an argument than any kind of sit-down-conversation I had ever seen.
"Smammy!" I had yelled again, trying to get my brother's attention.
I remember 'Smam' being was as close as I could come to saying my older brother's name, it was something that continued on until I was seven.
The door had slammed shut nearly hitting my face, I remember jumping back in fright that I'd stumbled backwards and began to cry, back then at that moment I had thought Sam was angry at me too. I had managed to stand back up despite being scared, as a child I didn't understand that sometimes people liked being alone when they were sad, because back then when I was sad all I wanted was to do hug Dean and Sam until I felt safe and happy again. Going onto my toes I reached and pulled on the door handle pushing the barrier open, running up to my older brother only to stop in front of him.
"Smam?" I asked timidly, hiccuping as I cried watching my brother do the very same.
I had stood in front of him, his sobbing was all I heard and as I watched his shoulders shake with every cry I remember feeling less safe and more scared. I couldn't see his face, unable to see if he was angry at me too like he was with Dean and dad, they'd all been angry with me at some point and as a child I knew that when someone yelled at you or gave you a mean look it meant they were unhappy with you, and I remember feeling scared that Sam would look at me harshly.
"I-I'm sorry, Smam…please don't be mad at me…don't cry…please Smammy…" I pleaded, gripping the hem of my shirt as if he'd just scolded me instead of crying before me.
Sam looked up at me with tear stained cheeks that were continually watered by fresh tears, a red nose that matched with his puffy blood shot eyes, and I remember feeling myself flinch thinking he was about to yell at me.
"H-Hey Nat," my brother croaked, trying to smile. "Don't cry baby…please…don't cry. You're t-the last person…I-I'd wanna to see crying…." He sniffed, I barely understood what he was trying to say as he choked on every word that left his lips.
I recall Sam kneeling down from the bed in front of me so that he was close to my height, wiping his face of tears, and looking back I knew he was trying to seem strong like Dean, tried smiling at me so that I wouldn't cry anymore despite his obvious sadness. He'd reached his arms around me and pulled my small frame in for a bone crushingly tight hug, but I remember not caring as my lungs were squeezed, because back then to me hugs meant you weren't angry or sad anymore and I wanted Sam to be happy - I wanted to be happy again. Thinking back, I remember that it scared me to no end seeing Sam - or Dean - sad because when he was, I felt as if the world were no longer safe, as if a wall that had once protected my castle had crumbled into dust - back then I didn't understand the aching feeling I'd felt, but now I do…it was fear.
"Sma-" my question was cut off by my eldest brother, Dean, who had been standing by the door and it seemed as if he had been standing there for a while and probably, judging by his face, he was too upset to say anything - but back then I didn't care, I'd just wanted Sam.
"Hey…I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean had said, walking over to us. "I begged him not to tell you but the he didn't listen, I'm so sorry Sammy…" his voice broke midway through his last sentence, to my young mind I didn't understand what any of Dean had said meant, and it wouldn't be until years later that I finally would.
Sam let me go as he stood up to walk over to Dean, who didn't hesitate at all to pull Sam into a hug that looked much like the one Sam had given to me not to long ago. I remember watching as Sam buried his face into Dean's chest and began crying harder than before, and just like that my small-self had felt bad all over again. It wouldn't be until much later that I'd learn what an amazing brother Dean really was to us, but looking back at how he treated Sam and I it was clear we were lucky to have him. Dean had known better then to talk with Sam about what happened in the living room and continued to hug his brother, rubbing his back soothingly and doing his best to comfort him - as a child I'd never understood that sometimes being able to cry freely was a good thing, after all what was their to say? Finally, Sam began to calm down and the small room fell silent again, the only sounds that could be heard consisted of Sam and I's sniffling.
I just wanted to be hugged.
"It's not your fault," Sam states, looking up at his older brother.
"What?" Asks the blond, confusion clear on his face - back then I knew that face meant you didn't know something, I had often made it when I didn't understand things.
"It's not your fault…it's mine, you warned me not to read dad's journal but I did, I should have known better but I did it anyway," Sam continues, leaving me in the dust as to what they were talking about. "B-But it's better that I know… about everything," the brunet finishes, wiping his remaining tears away.
"Sam…it's not-"
"It is Dean and you know it," Sam says in with a stern voice, then softened his tone in his next sentence. "Besides, as long as you guys are by my side I should be fine, right?"
I remember watching them in confusion, but the moment Sam turned and smiled at me I had almost instantly felt better - I loved seeing my brothers smile. The brunet lifted me off the floor as if I were as light as air, I smiled and laughed happily while wiping my face clean, and upon seeing Sam smile at me brilliantly it instantly stopped my tears and caused me to smile back even wider.
Dean paused before grinning as well, "you got that right Sammy, I'd never let either of you get hurt, I'd rather die," he let out a small chuckle as he walked over to us, bringing us into a group hug.
"Listen dad left for another gig so it's just us, wanna order pizza? My treat," I squealed happily recognizing the word 'pizza'.
"Yay De! Pitta!" Sam and Dean began to laugh at me.
"It's 'pizza' Nat," Sam corrected, still grinning happily.
"Ok then 'pitta' it is, but first, Sam please clean Nat's face it's covered in snot," Dean ordered as he released us from the hug, heading towards the door leaving the room.
"Why me?!" Sam yelled after Dean, I had no idea why they were yelling but I remember not feeling fearful of the tone they were using at that point - plus their smiles kept me calm.
"'Cuz I'm the eldest and I said so," Dean answered bluntly, smirking before walking out of the room.
Sam let out an aggravated sigh while rolling his eyes only to look back at me, "okay Nat let's get you cleaned up so we can eat some pizza, yeah?"
I looked at Sam slapping both of my hands onto each side of his face, holding it so that his eyes met mine.
"You not sad anymore, Smammy?" I asked, looking at him to make sure he wasn't crying anymore.
I remember Sam giggling at what was supposedly my 'serious' face, "no Nat, I'm not sad anymore."
"Good!" I laughed happily, hugging my brother once more.