Hold My Gun
Originally posted by hoodieofcomfort at Hold My Gun
Title: Hold My Gun
Rating: G
Pairings: Weecest
Word Count: 1,050
Warnings: None
Summary: Dean teaches Sam to shoot.
Dean knew this day had been coming, he knew it ever since Sam turned eight and started asking the questions he’d begged him not to. He didn’t want this day to come, had prayed it wouldn’t. He kept hoping that one day dad would come home and he would have killed the thing that killed their mother and Sammy would never have to start hunting like he did. But that day hadn’t come and as he pulled his guns out of the back of the impala along with a trash bag full of tin cans and headed into the woods with his brother, he began to wonder if it ever would.
“What’re we doing today, De?” Sam asked skipping ahead. He knew the place by now. He knew where they would go to practice shooting. Normally, it was just Dean that would do the shooting. Sam would have to sit back and watch. But today was different. Dean just hadn’t told his brother that yet.
“We’re gonna be shooting today,” he said, struggling to control his nerves.
Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. “I know that.”
Dean took a deep breath and said, “You’re gonna learn to shoot today.”
Suddenly, Sam’s enthusiasm vanished. “Didn’t dad say that guns are dangerous?” he asked, his skipping slowing to a regular walk as they came into their usual clearing where a wooden fence had started being built, but only got a few feet before it was finished.
“Mhm,” Dean said in response to his brother’s question. He set down the guns and walked up to the fence where he set down the trash bag and began pulling out the tin cans, balancing them on the fence posts at regular intervals.
“Then why are you teaching me to shoot?” Sam asked, sitting down behind the log where they would be firing the guns.
Dean sighed and didn’t answer. He wasn’t angry at Sam for asking that question. His feelings weren’t even hurt. He’d begged his father to do it instead, but John had another case to work in town before they left, which meant it was Dean’s job to show his brother how to shoot a gun. It was beginning to seem like it was Dean’s job to show his brother most anything. He didn’t mind, he enjoyed spending time with Sam, but he was worried that he would do something wrong and one of them would get hurt.
Pulling himself together, he forced a smile onto his face as he spun around, picking up the trash bag that was full of the tin cans that wouldn’t fit on the fence. He headed back towards Sam and said, “Because dad’s busy.”
Sam’s shoulders slumped. “Dad’s always busy.”
“Good thing too,” Dean replied, pulling out one of the smaller guns and loading it. “Otherwise we wouldn’t get to spend so much time together.”
Sam smiled, then Dean handed him the loaded gun and his smile vanished. “What do I do?” he asked, sounding like the scared child he used to be. A memory flashed across Dean’s retinas, a memory that he’d been struggling to block out for years, but had never managed to: Sam lying on a motel bed, a creature in a black robe bent over him. He blinked and forced the images away. Sam was safe now and that memory didn’t matter. What mattered right now was that Sam learn how to shoot, so he could defend himself if Dean wasn’t there to do it.
He took a deep, steadying breath and moved closer to Sam, wrapping his fingers of both hands around the weapon. He placed hands over his brother’s and stretched Sam’s arms, so they were held all the way out in front of him. He aimed the gun at one of the tin cans and said, “I want you to try to hit the cans. Just pull the trigger when you think you’re ready.” He moved so he was still behind Sam, but far enough away that his brother could properly shoot at the targets he’d set out for him.
Sam took several deep breaths before he fired.
And missed.
He fired again and missed.
By the fifth time he’d fired and missed, he had frustrated tears in his eyes. He kept falling back into Dean’s lap from the kick of the gun and he couldn’t hit any of the tin cans Dean had set out for him.
“It’s okay, Sammy,” Dean said, trying to look into his brother’s eyes, while wiping his tearstained cheeks with the sleeve of his hoodie. “I didn’t get the first time either.”
Sam shook his head. “Nuh-uh,” he said, his voice wavering as he struggled to stop crying. “I bet you got it the first time. You’re the best at everything.” He didn’t say this as though he were envious, but as though it were a fact. Dean found himself wishing that he was everything his brother thought he was, which was why he didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say.
He turned him around and said, “Look. Just keep trying. We have all day. We’ll stay out until you get one, okay?”
Sam nodded and turned back around to face the tin cans, determined to make his brother proud.
It took several more tries and several more reassurances from Dean before Sam hit any of the cans. Dean even had to reset them several times. But, finally, just as the sun was reaching its peak in the sky, one of his bullets clanked off of one of the cans. The two boys cheered and whooped and kept practicing with the same gun, until it started getting dark and cold out. Then Dean told Sam they’d come back tomorrow and try with a different gun, while still practicing with the first gun. Dean was still nervous. He was still worried that something could happen to his baby brother, but at the same time, he felt as though a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. If something came into their motel room in the middle of the night and tried to go after Sam, his brother would be able to defend himself if Dean were otherwise incapacitated. It was his job to protect Sammy and this was just a part of it.
Title: Hold My Gun
Rating: G
Pairings: Weecest
Word Count: 1,050
Warnings: None
Summary: Dean teaches Sam to shoot.
Dean knew this day had been coming, he knew it ever since Sam turned eight and started asking the questions he’d begged him not to. He didn’t want this day to come, had prayed it wouldn’t. He kept hoping that one day dad would come home and he would have killed the thing that killed their mother and Sammy would never have to start hunting like he did. But that day hadn’t come and as he pulled his guns out of the back of the impala along with a trash bag full of tin cans and headed into the woods with his brother, he began to wonder if it ever would.
“What’re we doing today, De?” Sam asked skipping ahead. He knew the place by now. He knew where they would go to practice shooting. Normally, it was just Dean that would do the shooting. Sam would have to sit back and watch. But today was different. Dean just hadn’t told his brother that yet.
“We’re gonna be shooting today,” he said, struggling to control his nerves.
Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. “I know that.”
Dean took a deep breath and said, “You’re gonna learn to shoot today.”
Suddenly, Sam’s enthusiasm vanished. “Didn’t dad say that guns are dangerous?” he asked, his skipping slowing to a regular walk as they came into their usual clearing where a wooden fence had started being built, but only got a few feet before it was finished.
“Mhm,” Dean said in response to his brother’s question. He set down the guns and walked up to the fence where he set down the trash bag and began pulling out the tin cans, balancing them on the fence posts at regular intervals.
“Then why are you teaching me to shoot?” Sam asked, sitting down behind the log where they would be firing the guns.
Dean sighed and didn’t answer. He wasn’t angry at Sam for asking that question. His feelings weren’t even hurt. He’d begged his father to do it instead, but John had another case to work in town before they left, which meant it was Dean’s job to show his brother how to shoot a gun. It was beginning to seem like it was Dean’s job to show his brother most anything. He didn’t mind, he enjoyed spending time with Sam, but he was worried that he would do something wrong and one of them would get hurt.
Pulling himself together, he forced a smile onto his face as he spun around, picking up the trash bag that was full of the tin cans that wouldn’t fit on the fence. He headed back towards Sam and said, “Because dad’s busy.”
Sam’s shoulders slumped. “Dad’s always busy.”
“Good thing too,” Dean replied, pulling out one of the smaller guns and loading it. “Otherwise we wouldn’t get to spend so much time together.”
Sam smiled, then Dean handed him the loaded gun and his smile vanished. “What do I do?” he asked, sounding like the scared child he used to be. A memory flashed across Dean’s retinas, a memory that he’d been struggling to block out for years, but had never managed to: Sam lying on a motel bed, a creature in a black robe bent over him. He blinked and forced the images away. Sam was safe now and that memory didn’t matter. What mattered right now was that Sam learn how to shoot, so he could defend himself if Dean wasn’t there to do it.
He took a deep, steadying breath and moved closer to Sam, wrapping his fingers of both hands around the weapon. He placed hands over his brother’s and stretched Sam’s arms, so they were held all the way out in front of him. He aimed the gun at one of the tin cans and said, “I want you to try to hit the cans. Just pull the trigger when you think you’re ready.” He moved so he was still behind Sam, but far enough away that his brother could properly shoot at the targets he’d set out for him.
Sam took several deep breaths before he fired.
And missed.
He fired again and missed.
By the fifth time he’d fired and missed, he had frustrated tears in his eyes. He kept falling back into Dean’s lap from the kick of the gun and he couldn’t hit any of the tin cans Dean had set out for him.
“It’s okay, Sammy,” Dean said, trying to look into his brother’s eyes, while wiping his tearstained cheeks with the sleeve of his hoodie. “I didn’t get the first time either.”
Sam shook his head. “Nuh-uh,” he said, his voice wavering as he struggled to stop crying. “I bet you got it the first time. You’re the best at everything.” He didn’t say this as though he were envious, but as though it were a fact. Dean found himself wishing that he was everything his brother thought he was, which was why he didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say.
He turned him around and said, “Look. Just keep trying. We have all day. We’ll stay out until you get one, okay?”
Sam nodded and turned back around to face the tin cans, determined to make his brother proud.
It took several more tries and several more reassurances from Dean before Sam hit any of the cans. Dean even had to reset them several times. But, finally, just as the sun was reaching its peak in the sky, one of his bullets clanked off of one of the cans. The two boys cheered and whooped and kept practicing with the same gun, until it started getting dark and cold out. Then Dean told Sam they’d come back tomorrow and try with a different gun, while still practicing with the first gun. Dean was still nervous. He was still worried that something could happen to his baby brother, but at the same time, he felt as though a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. If something came into their motel room in the middle of the night and tried to go after Sam, his brother would be able to defend himself if Dean were otherwise incapacitated. It was his job to protect Sammy and this was just a part of it.