Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural... Sadly :(

We both knew basic gun safety. Oh, did we know. Everyday it was drilled into our thick skulls. 'Never run with the safety off!' Dad would bark at us. And I never did, until Today. 'Never point it as something you aren't plannin' to shoot!' He yelled. And I never did, until today.

It's a chilly fall day, the trees are vibrant oranges and reds, it would have been beautiful any other time, but I'm upset today so that dampens the mood. Dean and I had gotten up at the crack of dawn and have been out hunting all day. Dean of course has caught two rabbits and a squirrel, I on the other hand, am coming back with nothing but my foul mood. Dean had offered to give me his rabbits and tell dad that I caught them, but I just glared at him. I don't need or want his help, but he was persistent, so I finally relented and took a rabbit, albeit begrudgingly. It annoyed me to no end that he was willing to do so much for me.

Dean is a great big brother, probably the best there is, but sometimes he's too much. I don't need someone to baby me, I'm almost fifteen, not a kid. But Dean is always trying to... Help isn't the right word, more like ease my responsibilities. It get's on my nerves. So, I make snide remarks and am rude, in a futile attempt to get him to back off, but it never works. He's always right there, ready to assist. Sometimes I wonder what he would do if nobody needed him. He'd probably implode or something like that.
But even though his mother-henning drives me crazy, I trust him with my life and I just hope, someday he can say the same about me.

We're heading back to the cabin we've called "Home" for the past few weeks, when Dean decides to break the silence. "You good, Sammy?" Dean asks, concern lacing his words. "You've been acting all weird lately," I just roll my eyes in response, not deeming his question worthy of my words. He waits for a few seconds, but when my answer never comes he huffs in annoyance and speeds up to a more brisk pace. I assumed that meant he would drop the subject and we would continue on in uncomfortable silence. But alas, I was wrong. His eyes keep sliding over to me every few minutes, checking on me. After catching his eye on me a couple of times, I'd finally had enough. I stop walking and cross my arms defensively across my chest. He notices my absence from his side immediately and also stops, mimicking the same stance as me perfectly, causing me to be even more angry.

He scrutinizes me for a few seconds before looking me dead in the eye. "Yeah, Sammy?" He says with a lazy smile, but I can see he's tense from what can only be concern. I resist the urge to roll my eyes at the nickname. "It's Sam and I was wondering what your problem is?" I demand, wincing at how harsh it came out, but sticking with it.
He looks at me like I'm insane, dragging a hand through his hair, making it stick up in crazy ways, as he responds. "M-My problem?" He says with a harsh laugh. "What's your problem? You've been acting sad and quiet for days now," He comments. "And you want to know what my problem is?" He says, causing me to look away from his intense stare. I start to shuffle my feet, an uncomfortable feeling settling itself around me. "Sammy, what's wrong?" This time his words are much softer, his voice having a calming effect on me, whether I like it or not.

I look up into his eyes and find that I cannot lie, I never could to my brother. "I'm just tired, Dean. Tired of the hunting, and researching, and the- the moving every few weeks," I rant, my breathing speeding up with each word. "I'm tired of it, Dean. You gotta understand that," I say, my eyes pleading that he would see what I meant. "I just- I just want to be normal." I conclude, whispering the last word like it's forbidden to say. Dean hung his head down low and started massaging his temples, as if warding off a headache.

After a minute or so of us standing there, Dean looking disappointed and me looking apprehensive, Dean looks up and locks gazes with me. He opens his mouth and then closes it again. I wait patiently for his reply, knowing it won't bode well for me, although I can get some comfort knowing he won't tell dad about what I said. "Sam," He starts. "Maybe, I could talk to dad, see if we could stay here until the school year ends." I stare at him with shock, my jaw is probably on the floor. "Would-would that make you stop being such a whiney brat?" I nod numbly, ignoring the jab at me.

My mind is whirring with the possibilities that could happen with Dean on my side. I've always known, that if it came down to it, Dean would put me above all else. Above himself, above dad, hell even above every other person on the planet. That fact both comforts me and scares me. "Now, can we get back to the cabin, I'm starving." Dean says with a small smile. "Yeah," I say and start to walk back, but Dean puts out an arm across my chest, effectively stopping me. I look at him and see a smirk and evil glint in his eyes. "Bitch," He says. The second it registers, he has already started running back to the cabin. I know a race when I see one. "Jerk." I mumble as I take off after him.

If only I had known then what I know now, I wouldn't have ran after him. I'm dashing through the forest, dodging trees, and balancing on uneven ground. My only thought is on catching up to him. My breathing is speeding up from the rate at which I am moving, that's when i feel something hit across my leg. I look down at my feet and see that my shoe lace is untied. 'Crap' I think. 'If I stop to tie that then I'll never catch up to Dean' I decide to just fix it once we get back to the cabin, quickening my run.

Dean looks so far away, his well muscled body moving much quicker than my awkwardly long legs that I'm still getting used to. But just as I suspected, I start to gain ground on him, not because I'm getting any quicker, but because he's slowing down. He always shoots ahead of me, and once he realizes that I won't catch up, he slows down to make it a close call race. 'Typical'

I'm fifty feet away. Forty-five. Forty feet away. And then it happens, I feel my foot get caught on something and time slows down. My breathing hitches, and my muscles tense, awaiting the impact of hitting the ground face first. 'This is gonna hurt' Right as I hit the ground my fists clench, which was the worst thing I could have possible done. I hear a shot, a loud, ringing, lone shot. I slam into the dirt hard, knocking my head on it. I feel dazed, confused, and a bit nauseous.

My muddled brain is trying to figure out who's shooting at me. 'Drop to the ground!' My mind is yelling at me. 'Oh, wait, I'm already on the ground' I cling to the dirt tightly, cautiously peering up to look for Dean. I don't see him at first but then his boots catch my eye. He, too, is on the ground, I try to yell out to him, but the ringing in my ears is so intense I can't tell how loud I'm being.

After laying in the dirt for a minute or so, my mind starts to clear, and my stomach clenches at what I realize happened. 'Oh, my god. I shot Dean. I shot Dean.'

Please tell me what you think :)

A special thanks to Pat, for inspiring this story.