Disclaimer: Don't own them
A/N: This came to me on the drive home. I know the homemade emf meter was later than this. But it fit so I'm using it.
Dedication: This is dedicated to all those out there that suffer from the G.L.O.S.S (Good Little Obedient Soldier Syndrome) You're not alone.
Apparently I'm not the perfect soldier. If I was, thoughts like these wouldn't exist. Add another heaping pile of guilt to my already full plate. Have you ever wished you could be who you really are? I have. Every one looks at me, and thinks I have it all together. But boy are they wrong. Every time I look at Sam lying in this hospital bed, I wish I could be someone completely different. I wish that I had been more forceful about Sammy not going on this hunt. He's 13 for crying out loud. He should be playing soccer. Not chasing supernatural beings, especially Werewolves that are out for blood, which is pretty much all werewolves… I wish I could have said no, instead of my patented 'yes sir'.
As I brush the hair out of Sammy-boy's eyes, the tears well up behind my eyelids. I force them back, I won't cry here. People don't see me cry, unless it's something big, then they might get a tear or two. Sammy assumes I just don't cry, but that isn't true either. Sometimes when I'm alone I do. Like I will on the drive home from the hospital after Sam wakes up. See, the thing is, if no one sees you cry it didn't happen. A trick I learned long ago. As long as Dad didn't see, he couldn't be disappointed. If I didn't argue back, Dad would be happy. Dad's had so much disappointment and unhappiness in his life that if I can grant him a little reprieve from it, why shouldn't I try to please him? But it's times like these, where the things I hold dearest are falling apart, I can't help but wonder, what is it costing me to please Dad?
Sam thinks I don't question Dad. I don't. Technically. I mean not verbally. I learned long ago that disappointed him, that he thought I was better than that. And of course being the good son, who always got the extra cookie, I stopped questioning, because next to taking care of Sammy, pleasing Dad was top priority. Let's face it. I live to hear the praise of those people I love and trust. I do. One time I made this EMF meter out of an old walkman, I was so proud of myself. It takes a lot to do that, and I did it in a relatively short time. Sam took one look at it, and then made fun of it. Crushed me. He doesn't know that though. Cause I'm a black hole of emotions apparently. While I wouldn't change that necessarily, being able to show a little bit more emotions with out judgment being placed on me would be nice. Or maybe having the freedom to release what I'm really feeling is a better choice of words. Dad wouldn't even look at it at the meter. That hurt more, sense I made the Damn thing to help him out in the first place.
I look back and think, this isn't me. The inner me, is so much stronger than this. I have so many views and opinions and desires. But I can't achieve them and please Dad at the same time. So I keep my mouth shut and cave in to what is wanted of me, which turns into what is expected of me eventually. I realize now it was a very slow process, this achievement of the "good little soldier" and that I can't change it. Ever. Cause as much as I hate it and want to break free, the pain it would ultimately bring isn't worth it to me. The most that will ever change is the occasional speaking of my mind. What they do with that is up to them, I won't push, unless Sammy's life is at stake. After tonight, I'm making sure this doesn't happen again, even if it means my death.