On May 2nd 1997 Sam Winchester turned 14 years old.

This birthday was unlike other birthdays, he awoke to find himself alone in the motel room him, his dad and Dean were sharing and his heart sank into the ground. His mind automatically went to the worst case scenario and he jumped out of bed to look for any sign of a break in or attack; nothing. A piece of paper that was laid on the scruffy dresser caught his eye.

Sam,

Duty calls, back later/tomorrow.

Dad.

Sam began to tear up as he angrily screwed up the paper and threw it at the wall, he flung himself down onto the bed and began to sob into his pillow. His own father and brother forgot his birthday, they just forgot. If it wasn't bad enough that they forgot; they went on a hunt without even saying goodbye!

A few days ago him and John had had a huge argument but this time it was worse. Dean joined in alongside his father. The argument was pretty fucking stupid if you asked Sam, but they took it pretty God damn serious. Sam was an hour late home from school because he got detention, he didn't have a phone so he couldn't exactly call. John exploded when he got home.

One thing did get to him though, just one sentence, four words spoken by the person he loved the most.

"You're such a burden" Dean shouted at him before freezing on the spot to look at John who was gaping at him in disbelief.

Sam let out another Sob at the thought and buried his head further into the pillow and went into over think mode, this never ended well.

What if Dean was right?

I bet they both think that, someone had to say it.

It'd be better if I wasn't around.

If I hadn't been born mom would still be alive and they'd be happy.

All my fault.

Everything is my fault.

I wish I had died in that fire instead.

No one wants me around.

Maybe I should give up.

You've felt like this for too long now.

Sam's brain was running dangerously fast, he couldn't stop hearing the same sentences repeated no matter how hard he tried to occupie his brain.

Better off dead.

Better off a quitter.

They'd be better off if you weren't with them.

Burden.

Sam's crying came to a halt when he was washed over with a sea of calmness, he sniffled and stood up from the bed. The amount of times people have told him 'It's going to be okay' when its not, but this time it's different.

"It's going to be okay - I have a plan," He said out loud to himself. "I can't do this anymore." He concluded before giving a deep sigh and getting dressed. He had his heart set on it, his inner demons have won and he did nothing to stop them. May 2nd 1997 would be the day that he died, he was sure of it.

He mentally listed through the various ways he could do it, putting a bullet through his head ended at the top. He didn't want Dean or his father to have to find him...dead, so he decided to call them before hand and walk to somewhere they wouldn't find him. If they decided to look which he doubted, they would never find him nor know that he took the easy way out. His watch read about 7pm now, he had spent good few hours pondering dangerous thoughts. It was like something inside of him had snapped, maybe that argument finally pushed him off the edge.

The strange thing was, he wasn't at all scared. He was about to end his own life and he was the calmest he had been in years. He swallowed a lump that was forming in his throat and got out the cell phone that his father made him keep in the motel, hence why he didn't have it at school. He typed in Deans number and let it ring.

"Sam, did you not read the note?" Dean started angrily over the phone.

"Yeah..I just rang to say..." Sam spluttered, trying his hardest to cover up his choked sobs.

"I haven't got all day, Sammy."

"Goodbye. I called to say goodbye," Sam sighed, the sea of calmness flooding over him again.

"What? Sammy? Shit are you okay?" Dean asked sounding a little worried, Sam fought the urge to laugh at this. It's not like he gave a shit.

"I will be, Dean. I love you, tell Dad I love him too." Sam concluded and began to walk over towards the shotgun his father kept in every place they stayed, just for protection.

"Sammy, what are you talking about? Sam?!" Dean shouted down the phone at his younger brother, his big brother instincts kicking in.

"It'll be okay now, Dean. You'll be happy, at last." Sam picked up the gun and waited to hear his brothers voice, just one more time.

"Don't you fucking dare do this to me, Sammy! Dammit! we'll be home soon!" Dean screamed down the line, Sam sighed and flipped the phone shut knowing that will be the last time he ever heard his brothers voice. Yet he still did not shed a tear, his mind was being put at...rest?

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"Don't you fucking dare do this to me, Sammy! Dammit! we'll be home soon!" Dean screamed down the phone.

"What the fuck has happened?" John shouted, speeding up in the Impala to get to the motel faster. We were about 15 minutes away now but if we hurried we could make it in 10. I couldn't stop shaking, I felt like my stomach had been twisted in every way possible and my vision was blurred from the forming tears.

"Dad...I think Sammy's going to...kill-" Dean managed to splutter out in a strangled voice before smashing his hand against the car door and giving a sob filled growl.

"Jesus Christ, Sammy."

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As Sam held the Gun in his hand tears washed over him, not like a wave of them; more like a tsunami tide. He sat there for a few minutes sobbing hysterically into his hand that wasn't holding the gun. Maybe he wouldn't go off and hide after all, they'd probably just find him here with a hole in his head and burn his body.

He couldn't stop crying, his head was throbbing and he felt like if he tried to reason with himself about doing this again he'd be sick.

He sat here for what felt like hours although it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. He slowly lifted the gun and gently situated it under his small chin, this was really it.

"So this is it, huh?" He said out loud to himself, trying to calm his sobs. He shakily brought his hand up to the trigger and rested his index finger on it. His body heaved with sobs again as he thought of Dean. His light brown hair, green eyes and the sprinkling of freckles over his nose.

Sam took a deep breath and moved his hand so he could pull the trigger.