Strange is my middle name, if you wanna be sarcastic. I had always been a tad on the bizarre side but now I had officially hit the home run in freaky behaviour. This was the start of a screw loose. These…visions scare me. God I sound the total wuss now. Hunters are never scared, they can't afford to be. At least that's what Dad told me. Would it be wise to announce to him that there was a second psychic in the family? Probably not, I have a terrible habit of making people worry about me. Still, like always I had to shove my problems into the shadows to avoid trouble. Whether that is a healthy thing to do is another question yet to be investigated.

The distressed wail echoed throughout my mind, erupting through my ear canal. Panting and gasping in fright I shot up, eyes wide with horror. My sleep pattern had been disturbed once again, cold sweat gathered on my brow. Shivering, I slowly climbed out of the bed I was sharing with the Sasquatch. Cautiously I padded barefoot towards the bathroom, when suddenly a giant hand tapped me on the shoulder causing me to spin round. My first reaction was to yelp in surprise but another large hand hushed me by compressing against my mouth. The light in the bathroom had already been flicked on so I could see the culprit's face. It was Sam.

"Nightmare?" he questioned, removing his hand from my mouth.

I nodded, embarrassed that I had woken him. Scratching the back of my neck I looked down at my feet. Aware of my mental suffering, my brother escorted me into the bathroom. The toilet seat became the therapist's couch. Hanging my head in shame I continued to stare despondently at the tiled floor as my big brother studied me with concern, balancing on his haunches. Pressing my hands together I gazed up at him through my heavy bangs.

"What was it like? Being normal?" I asked simply.

Kids at school would call me names all the damn time during recess but then they would end up brawling with me at the side of the swings. Bullying was a pain during my time at elementary school but stubborn as I am, I never expressed any sign that I was giving me grief. The name calling had obviously buried into my memories. Freak. Weirdo. Loony Tunes. Even the teachers regarded me as an odd ball, hell bent on creating chaos during class. I was the kid with no Mom and lived in a crappy motel room. Gym class was a nightmare, especially when we were playing Dodge ball. Mainly because I was being pelted by the other kids, that was until I inherited my strong throwing arm which resulted in me getting my revenge on those little bastards. Apart from that it was like ethnic cleansing, me and the fat kids were always last to be picked for teams. Then again my growing cat like reflexes and powerful right arm gained me a reputation in basketball (excusing my height) and baseball. At the end of the school day I would watch everybody being collected by their mothers. The hole in my soul would grow bigger as it was something I would never feel and experience. What was it like to have a Mom that would sooth your angst, to wash away all your fears. I wouldn't know.

"It was safe and you had the freedom to live," said Sam. "Yet during my time at Stanford.."

"I'm not asking about Stanford," I interrupted. "I'm asking before I was born."

Sam seemed perplexed by my sudden request but he knew the angle of it. It was a constant question I had asked during my childhood. His answer was always the same. Externally it would put a tiny smile on my face but internally it would make me feel worse.

"Life was different," he started. "Mom would be baking while Dad would be washing the car with Dean. I would make snow angels and snowmen during the winter. Matching sweaters were a theme during Christmas and Mom would make tomato rice soup whenever one of us got sick. We would go to the pizza parlour if my soccer team won a game and one summer we even travelled to Yellowstone National Park."

My heart was breaking at the thought of having a peaceful life in Kansas in the perfect house. Then the wailing new addition came along and jinxed everything. Mom and Dad should've stopped at two kids. Why bother with a third. It would only bring them bad luck and misery.

"In fact each birthday I'm reminded of one thing. It was the day you came into my life," he said with a caring smile. "I wouldn't have it any other way. My little shadow keeps me alive."

Ah geez!, the yeti was tugging at my snapping heart strings. True, he's entitled to his opinion but I think differently.

"Sorry I ruined everything for you Sammy," I said in a broken whisper. "I'm so sorry."

Sam cupped my face with his hands as tears began welling in my green eyes. Dammit! The Great Wall of Me was tumbling down again. I should really fire the minions who construct the thing for they do a pretty crap job.

"Oh sweetheart," he said softly with a hint of sadness at witnessing my dismay. "Don't think like that. Ever."

I gazed at him miserably as he continued his Big Brother Monologue Moment:

"Listen to me, if you need to talk I'll be hear for you. I'm travelling down the same road as you. Whatever life throws at you, remember one thing and one thing only. Your not alone and you never will be. "

I was too young when Sam first experienced visions though I do remember them vividly. Dad was never around to help him cope. Thinking I might be heading down the same route, I was mistaken. My dopey big brothers never let me outta their sights and as sure as hell if I was suffering by any means, they would be there to support and comfort me every step of the way down the long dark highway of life. As much as I thought I was alone in the universe a vast majority of the time, deep down I knew otherwise.

My face crumpled as tears leaked from my eyes. Vainly I tried turning away to save myself from embarrassment but Sam had seen the tears escaping.

"I wanna be normal Sammy," I said as the tears streamed down my face. "I wanna be normal so bad."

"You are normal," my brother insisted, catching the tear drops with his thumbs. "You're my gorgeous baby sister whose gonna become a heart breaker when you reach my age. Take it from me, there is nothing wrong with being slightly weird. There's time that you remind me of myself."

Come to think of it he was kinda right. Apart from the identical wild brown hair, dimples and sharing May 2nd as a birthday, Sam and I share similar personality traits. Sensitivity, inquisitiveness and a slight rebellious streak.

My breathe began hitching as I could feel more repressed emotions emerging.

"Help me Sammy," I uttered brokenheartedly. "Please."

Sobs then racked my body, shoulders trembling as I wept openly. I coved my face with my hands. So much for not breaking down. Pulling me into an embrace, Sam turned into the protective Mother Hen again. My fingers curled around the material of his flannel t-shirt, head buried in his collar bone. He rubbed my back, in an attempt to ease my anguish, muttering words and phrases of security as I cried in his arms.

"I'm here baby," he kept repeating. "I'm always here."

In all honesty, I do still have a Mom. It's always been Sam. Just don't tell him I think of him as a mother figure. I think he would be pissed if he thought I pictured him in a bra and apron like some house wife.

Well what did you folks think of this chapter? Was it mushy enough or is more mush and fluff required? Did you read this chapter with a box of tissues?

Heck I'm blowing my own trumpet here ain't I. Trust me you will be in for a possible weep fest in future chapters to come. That is if I write them good enough to make you feel like that.

Anyway I'm rambling.

Please review.

(p.s. If you have any ideas or queries just PM me. You can also find me on Twitter under the name of littlegemini93, coincidence that I've used the same name again, what can I say, I just like the name)