Summary: Sam is left behind on a hunt... again, and waits for his brother and dad to return. Probably just a one-shot...

Sam checked the clock again. It was 3am. He had to be up in 3 hours but he couldn't bring himself to sleep. His leg started jiggling again as he sat at the dining table eyes flitting between the door and the clock. They were supposed to be back hours ago.

"A simple salt'n'burn." Dean said.

"Be back before you know it." Dad said.

Well if it was so simple why couldn't he go too, and if they would be back before he knew it he would be asleep in his bed like most 14 yr olds were at this time of night, dreaming about girls and football, instead he was sat in a crappy motel room with peeling wallpaper gripping a glass of water so hard the glass was likely to break.

Dean would tell him to stop being such a baby but he couldn't help it, his mind never stopped, ever, and right now it was on an endless loop of bloody and terrible ways a 'simple salt'n'burn' could go disastrously wrong.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut as another image of his father and brother lying bleeding and broken in an unknown cemetery flashed before his eyes. Gritting his teeth his helplessness turned to anger.

Why couldn't he go with them? He wasn't a kid anymore, he was 14. He's been on hunts before. Even when it was dangerous he had been allowed to go and he just sat in the car doing his homework. Sure he had worried then but he had at least been there. He knew where they were.

Now he was left behind, shut away. Told to stay back, and be quiet. And he was sick of it. He had thought when he learnt what the big secret his dad and brother were keeping from him was, that it would be OK. That he would become part of the team. The Winchester boys saving the day, kicking ass.

But the reality was becoming clearer and clearer as the years went past. The Winchester boys did save the day, did kick ass. But too bad Sam wasn't one of them, not in any real sense anyway. Sure he shared a house, shared a last name, shared the last slice of pie. But he wasn't one of them, wasn't part of the team.

It was the Winchester Boys, hunters extraordinaire, and their geeky sidekick that got in the way and needed to be rescued.

An just like that his anger faded back to a deep seated pain that he held in his chest, that got deeper and deeper every time he caught his father disappointed stares or every time Dean rolled his eyes when he talked about school.

Because he knew why he had been left back today and it wasn't his fault. It had been his freaky long legs that had gotten in the way which meant that he tripped on a tree root, which meant that the Adlet caught up with him, which meant his Dad had to drop back to save his ass and break the plan, which meant the hunt was a lot longer and messier and painful than it should have.

And when it was over and Sam had stood in front of his father, head down, freaky long limbs wrestled into submission as he stood as straight as he could. He had taken the verbal beating, taken the promise of an extra training session with a nod of his head and was sent out to unload the car. When he got back in he laid out the guns on the table set up to be cleaned and watched from under his bangs as John tended to Deans ripped arm. Sam watched as his Dad gently stitched up the cut and said something that made Dean grin, a real proper grin, before patting him proudly on the back.

A burst of jealousy had ripped through him so fast it made him fumble the gun he was taking apart. The resulting noise broke whatever moment his brother and father were having, each sending him an identical glare of exasperation. Sam dipped his head back down and carried on with the guns, gritted his jaw and didn't say anything for the rest of the night.

Sam sat up quickly from the table and began to pace. It wasn't fair. It wasn't. He just wanted to be part of something, part of them, part of the family.

Maybe he wasn't as fast as Dean or as strong as their father, but there had to be something that he could bring to the table apart from books.

And as soon as they got back he was going to tell them. Tell them that he was a part of this family too and he deserved some recognition for his input to the hunt. He deserved a proud smile or a pat on the back. He deserved to be taken for beers after a hunt well done instead of being told to stay behind and not get into trouble.

He was 14 for gods sakes, when Dean was fourteen he not only looked after himself but his ten year old brother. He had responsibility and gained his father's trust and pride.

Sam didn't have a younger brother to look after to prove himself, but that wasn't his fault, he should at least be given a chance! And he would tell them that, as soon as they got back. And they would be back, they would be fine and Dean would gripe at Sam for being a mother hen worrying all the time and Sam would roll his eyes and bat his brother's hands away when he tried to ruffle Sam's hair. (And one day Sam was going to be taller than Dean and see how much Dean likes his hair ruffled) And he would tell them… as soon as they got back.

Sam sat back in his chair, eyes on the door, shot gun by his foot, and waited.

Left me know what you thought, comments are love and all that. May turn into a two shot if it is wanted.