Disclaimer: Do I own Supernatural? HAHAHAHA! OBVIOUSLY NOT! (sorry I'm really tired, and full from Thanksgiving dinner. Btw, happy Thanksgiving everyone!)

Chapter 2: The Other Side of the Spectrum

1990

"Sammy, come here, I want to talk to you a minute." John Winchester wiped his sweaty brow in frustration as he heard the patter of a seven-year-old's footsteps coming down the stairs. John had, to Sam's dismay, told him to stay home from school that day. He needed to explain to him what really happened, as much as he wanted Sam to keep the innocence he possessed. He had a right to know.

"Hey, Sammy, sit down," he said as his son entered the room, "So…I heard from Dean that you said there was something in your closet."

"Yeah, Dad. I kept hearing scratching in there, but I'm sure its nothing," Sam said, trying to mask the fear he really felt. Stop being a baby, of course there's nothing in your closet, Sam thought to himself.

"Well, Sammy, if there really is something in your closet, you're going to need this," John told him as he took out of his robe a .45 pistol, placing it on the table.

Sam's eyes widened to the size of saucers, "But, but, Dad- that's a gun!"

"I know, Sammy. Look, there is something in you need to know. Well, there's a lot. It's going to take awhile to explain, but I just need you to have that- I don't want anything getting you."

"Dad, I'm sure there's nothing in my closet...Please, stop, you're really scaring me-"

"Look, Sam, you know the fire that killed your mother? It wasn't an electrical fire," John didn't mean to sound so abrupt about it, but it had just slipped out. He didn't seem to realize how much of an effect those two sentences had had on his youngest son though.

"What do you mean? Of course it was," Sam argued, but in the back of his mind all the awful nightmares he had had about that night came flooding back to him, and Dean's words from so long ago- "It was just a nightmare, Sammy. Mom died in an electrical fire, she wasn't on the ceiling or anything, I promise." Why would Dad lie to him all this time? Why would Dean lie to him all this time? No, Dean would never lie to me. Either Dad is lying or Dean didn't know or something…Sam tried to convince himself, but he couldn't get rid of the sick, empty feeling in his stomach.

"Son, it was some kind of evil supernatural being. Dean and I have been hunting it for a couple of years-"

Sam stopped him right there, "You're lying, if Dean had known he would've told me." Or I hope he would've.

"I specifically told your brother not to tell you, Sam. I hardly wanted to tell you, but it's for your own good. Now you can protect yourself, and come hunting with Dean and I."

This was all too much for Sam to process in such a short amount of time. He quickly got up and ran for the door, ignoring his father's cries as he went. He needed air, he just needed to get out.

Sam closed the door behind him, and sat on the steps, breathing a sigh of relief as he noticed his father had left him alone- for the time being. But his relief was not for long as he saw a big yellow school bus drive up their road, and stop at their driveway.

Soon, an 11-year-old boy with green eyes, short brown hair, and a worn out leather jacket stepped off the bus and walked up the driveway, a look of frustration crossing his face as he walked over to his little brother.

"Why the hell'd you get to get a day off of school? Anyways, I thought you loved school! But that could be 'cause you're only in elementary, wait 'til you get to junior high!" he rambled on, any jealousy of not getting a day off of school completely fading.

Sam just stared at him, he had never been so angry with his older brother in his entire life.

"What's eating you?" Dean asked once he noticed his brother was upset.

"I hate you," Sam said through gritted teeth, and proceeded to go inside, slamming the door in his confused brother's face.

After the initial shock had left him, Dean went inside and immediately confronted his father.

"What's up with Sam?" he asked.

"I told him. I told him everything," John answered, not able to meet his eldest son's eyes, but staring at the .45 pistol left on the table.

"Are you kidding me! Why the hell would you do that!" Dean shouted, his confusion immediately turning into pure anger.

"Hey! Don't use that language!" John shouted back, not sure exactly what else he could say.

"Dad, he's only seven!"

"You were only four, Dean!"

"Yeah, but I was there! It was inevitable that I would know about everything! Sam could've gone his whole life without even having to know!"

"Dean, look. He wouldn't have been able to go on without knowing this, I have a feeling that- Look, that isn't important right now. Dean, him not knowing would only have been more dangerous for him, it's better that he knows," John finished.

"Yeah, but, Dad-"

"There's nothing more to discuss, Dean. This conversation is over," John told him with exasperation. He was tired, he couldn't deal with both of his boys hating him right now.

Dean was far from calming down, but knew that his father meant business. He didn't want to get in more trouble than he was probably going to be in soon once his father found out he was near failing a lot of his classes, and not because he was bad in school but just didn't care. Besides, the only reason his Dad even cared about education was it could probably help with hunting.

Dean stomped upstairs, wanting to make sure that his Dad knew that, though he had let the argument go for now, he was still pissed off.

Dean made his way to Sam's room, ready to try to apologize, but stopped outside when he heard sobbing coming from inside. Immediately feeling worse than he had before, he silently headed over to his own room, and lay down on his bed, promising himself he would just solve things later.

In the present day, Dean thought back on this guiltily. He hadn't been able to make his brother forgive him. For a long time. That had been a hard couple of months, watching his once innocent baby brother evolve into a warrior- like he, Dean, had had to do as well.

For seven years, Dean had tried to hide Sam from his and Dad's 'extracurricular' hunting life, but in one day all his work had been ruined, and Sam had never really forgiven him completely for lying to him all that time.

And now, it was as if history was repeating itself. Sam had tried the normal life again, and Dean had let him. And in one day, that had all been ruined for Sam. Again. Dean wished more than anything that it could be different, but deep down he knew that Sam was a Winchester. As much as he tried, and as much as Dean tried to help, he would never be able to escape what he truly was. A hunter.