Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural and I am not making any profits off of this story. It all belongs to the CW and Eric Kripke so, please don't sue and please don't be offended by the language or situations the characters find themselves in.

Statue of a Son

" I don't wanna go on the hunt Dad, I have something important that I have to be at tomorrow!!!" Yelled thirteen year old Sam Winchester as he glared defiantly at his father John who was standing across from him.

" Damn it Sam, this is not up for discussion, there is a black dog out there in the woods that needs to be taken care of before it kills anymore people, that is way more important than some school play." Countered John, frustrated as Hell to once again find himself in a screaming match with his youngest boy in the living room of the shabby, run down house they were staying in.

" It's the Winter Show and I have one of the big roles in it!!!" Cried Sam, wanting his father to relent and let him go to the show.

His father and his brother could take care of this black dog just fine, they didn't need him.

From where he sat on the couch, Dean Winchester heaved a deep sigh of annoyance and woe at once again because any second now he was gonna be dragged into this newest argument between the two members of his family and quiet frankly, he just didn't have it in him to play mediator and keep the peace between the two block-heads today.

" Any second now, Sam gonna start harping about his precious need for normal and then that's just gonna piss off Dad some more." Thought Dean with a small grumble.

Sure enough...

" Why can't we do something normal for just one night?" Asked Sam angrily as he send daggers his father's way.

" For Pete's sake, Samuel Winchester, why are you so obsessed with normal when the Hunt is far more important, people's lives are at stake. What we do is far more important than something as meaningless as a school play!" Shouted John as he glared back at his youngest boy.

Sam bit back the wave of hurt that washed over him at his father's harsh words and battled to keep his face straight.

" But my play is imp-" Sam began, but John was hearing none of it.

" Why can't you be more like your brother? Dean understands that the hunt is a hell of a lot more important than prancing around on a stage and being an public embarrassment!" Yelled John.

Being compared to his older sibling made Sam's last nerve go haywire as his anger boiled over.

" WELL I CAN'T BE DEAN BECAUSE I'M SAM DAD, SAM NOT DEAN!!!!" Screamed Sam.

Sam watched as his father stood with steam all but shooting out of both his ears while Dean looked exasperated to the max as he rolled his eyes and stood up from his seat to dutifully step in to defuse the fiery situation.

The look on Dean's face said it all for Sam that, his big brother had sided with his father and that he too thought that Sam's play just wasn't important by anyone's standard.

" YEAH WELL, IT'D BE A HELL OF A LOT BETTER IF YOU WERE MORE LIKE DEAN, AT LEAST THEN YOU WOULDN'T BE SUCH A WHINY LITTLE BRAT WHO SCREWS UP LEFT AND RIGHT!!!" Roared John, his famous temper blinding him to the serious amount of damage his words would surely cause his youngest child.

At these words, Sam felt his thirteen year old heart come to a screeching halt in his chest before he felt it splinter at his father's harsh words.

His father thought he was nothing more than a screw up, he'd just screamed it out for the whole world to hear.

With his eyes burning and his throat closing up on him, Sam battled to still look pissed off and stubborn when all he felt now was pain radiating from the center of his chest.

" Oh whatever, forget I said anything." He mumbled with as much heat as he could muster before he promptly turned his back on his family and all but fled upstairs to the room he and Dean shared, leaving his still fuming father and still annoyed brother in his wake.

He slammed the door shut and then made his way over to his bed where he promptly collapsed heavily onto it.

Sam sat with his big, hazel green eyes swimming in fresh tears as his father's angry words and his brother's annoyed and slightly resentful face assailing his mind without mercy.

Inside his heart, already cracked and aching from the latest wounds inflicted by his father and his brother, Sam felt his anger and his hurt swirl around in a destructive vortex.

Then, a single hot drop of salt escaped his eyes and with a noise of disgust at his own weakness, Sam viscously wiped the track of wetness from his cheek and used ever ounce of his will to keep his body from giving in to it's basic urge to weep and give in to the grief he was feeling.

" No, I won't cry, if they see me cry they'll just say that I'm a baby and that I need to suck it up. No, I won't cry ever again." Thought Sam angrily.

So, he sat there and used every ounce of his will to snub out as much of his heart-break as possible and bury it as deep inside as he could.

Winchester's don't cry.

It was in that moment Sam Winchester decided to stop being himself, to stop being the kid he was and become a sufficient hunter like his brother was.

After all, the only thing his father wanted a carbon copy of his perfect first born son. John Winchester didn't want and certainly didn't need as he put it ' a whiny little brat who screws of left and right.' for a son now did he?

It was in that moment that Sam decided to give up everything that made him feel happy and just focus on the hunt and what supernatural being needed to be killed or sent packing straight to hell.

He'd stop arguing with his father, he take orders without question and simply be there, that's all.

Sam's thirteen year old mind reasoned that, this would make John Winchester happy, and it would make Dean happy because there wouldn't be any more battled to be fought or broken up.

With a small sigh, Sam staved off his tears and forced his heart to repair itself as best as it could.

But, Sam did lament that he wouldn't be able to go and participate in the Winter Show, and unlike what John and Dean were both led to believe, he didn't just have a big role in that play, he was supposed to have been one of the leads.

He'd wanted it to be a surprise for when his family would be there and they'd see that he was actually good enough to be one of the main stars of the entire stage production.

All he'd wanted was to prove some of the mean kids at school who'd decided to hound him wrong by showing them that his family did care about him, that they would be there for him.

Well, so much for that idea.

Instead of even giving him a chance, his father had simply brushed off what was important to him as some meaningless waste of time.

No, it had become very clear to Sam that, he shouldn't even bother to try and seek any kind of approval or praise from his dad or even his brother anymore in regards to any of the 'normal' things he loved to do cause all it would get him was a pissed off father, an annoyed older brother, and another deep crack to his already battered heart.

The two of them had made it clear that they just weren't interested in any of the things that made him happy, like school plays and soccer games.

It had been made pretty clear that whatever he did that made him feel good and proud of himself just wasn't worth the time the two people he loved with all his heart.

No, thirteen year old Sam Winchester vowed to never cry again and just be the good, obedient little soldier his father wanted.

Cause being himself just wouldn't cut it in the Winchester family.

The next night...

The woods were black and ominous as they loomed on either side of the black top road.

The air was cold and still, not a sound penetrated it.

The grip of Winter was unyeilding and harsh, with a fresh coating of frost over everything.

Then, the deep rumble of a car engine shattered this deathly silence like glass.

A pair of bright beaming headlights illuminated the soft darkness as a sleek black 1967 Chevy Impala came around the corner and thundered onward.

Behind the wheel was John Winchester, looking grim and determined as he drove.

The oldest Winchester spared a glance to his right and eyed his oldest son.

Dean sat with his entire being all but humming with excited energy. John Winchester could tell that the boy was eager to kick some supernatural black dog butt back to Hell.

Then, John's gaze shifted to the rear view mirror, in it's reflective surface, he eyed his youngest son Sam, where he sat in the back seat.

Unlike Dean, Sam was a picture of dejection and muted anger.

He hadn't spoken a single word to his father nor his brother since the huge argument that had happened the night before.

John felt a small pang of regret in his heart as he remembered the words he'd screamed at his son and as he looked back upon his action, he knew that he was wrong to say such things to his youngest.

But, in true Winchester fashion, John shrugged off the feeling as they drew nearer to where their intended quarry was believed to be hungry and waiting.

From where he sat in the back seat, Sam felt empty and desolate save for the dull ache of his heart every now and then.

He couldn't get the disappointed looks of his teacher and his fellow classmates out of his mind when he'd told them that he wouldn't be able to be in the play tonight.

He sat there stewing but tightly keeping his mouth shut from saying any of the words he wanted to speak so badly and instead, he felt himself grow cold and distant.

He couldn't bother himself with something so meaningless as his father had put it.

After all, killing something evil was more pressing.

As he sat there, Sam felt a thick darkness settle over him.

He'd show his dad that he wasn't some whiny little brat who always screwed up.

He'd show Dean that he was just as good if not better.

He'd show them both what kind of hunter he was.

TBC