For the past five miles, Sam had been jogging. A regular training exercise ordered by John. Dean had kept the pace with him a couple miles back but as soon as Sam started lagging behind he had told Dean to take off. It wasn't as if Sam didn't want Dean jogging with him because he did. It was because Dean didn't need to be punished if he came in .5 seconds after the supposed exact minute that the boys were supposed to make it back to base.
Sam didn't think it was fair. This whole thing. John had driven both boys out to the middle of a field in the Impala, blindfolded. They were expected to make it back to the starting point in less than three hours. It sounded easy, I mean, Sam was pretty good at running and his brother was excellent. But being blindfolded on the way over, it meant both boys had to be pretty damn aware as they drove out to the field, counting minutes and turns. For all he knew, John had looped them around the same block a couple times, trying to throw them off because that's what John did.
Sam huffed, nearly tripping over his feet as his mind wandered. He had a chemistry test on Monday that he still hadn't studied for and how fucked up is it that he wanted to study subatomic particles and elements. But no. Instead he was training and it was only going to get worse. Summer was approaching and that meant no school. No sanctuary.
Sam's stomach turned and he fell into a fast walk, trying not to lose his lunch but also his heart rate. If he stopped now, he didn't think he could keep going. He was too angry, and he didn't feel very good.
The sky was cloudy, and thunder could be heard in the distance. Sam knew if he didn't hurry up, he would get caught in the downpour. The dirt road stretched out in front of him, leaving no end to be seen and Sam closed his eyes for a minute, running over chemistry facts. Anything to keep his mind off of what he was doing.
In 1919, Ernest Rutherford discovered the proton.
Sam stopped, dropping to his knees as his stomach emptied itself onto the grass in front of him. When he was done heaving, Sam wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shakily got to his feet. It was starting to rain, and Sam appreciated the sudden turn of coolness of the summer air. He glanced at his watch, making note that he had a little under an hour to return to "base" or else Dad would be pissed. Sam's head spun as he took a step forward and his hand shot up to his forehead as if he could stabilize the sudden pounding in back of his eyes. God, he felt like shit. All he wanted to do right now was lay down and sleep. In all honesty, he hadn't felt good this morning but shrugged it off, knowing John was never one for "excuses"
Plus, it was manageable this morning, but right now; Sam didn't know how much longer he could last. Black spots danced in front of his vision and the wind grew stronger, blowing his bangs in front of his eyes. God damn it, he was going to get trapped in the storm. Lightning made it's presence and Sam began to run, blindly. His feet pounded the red dirt along with raindrops, and he gripped his head as another clash of thunder nearly made his already throbbing head almost explode. His arms were loose as he ran and if Sam could see himself right now, he probably would laugh at how ridiculous he most likely appeared.
But right now, he wanted to just fall over and not get up. So he did.