Hello guys! I'm finally posting a story, heh. Enjoy!

Beginning

"C'mon, Dean, hurry up before it rains!"

Dean Winchester almost groaned as he begrudgingly followed his brother into the field. The golden wheat that grew partially to his waist and certainly to Sam's made a shushing sound as they walked through it, and as he glanced up at the dark and brooding sky he saw that Sam wasn't exaggerating. It really did look like it was going to rain soon.

"You're sure you want to do this today?" the older brother inquired. Caution laced his tone strongly, but Sam didn't seem to notice it as he only sped up his pace, his grocery bag of empty soda cans clanking even louder as he tugged it along.

"Yeah I'm sure- I gotta, don't I?" replied the nine-year-old, far too chipperly. "Dad said so."

Ah, yes. Their father himself was behind this, and Dean could honestly say that he was... well. He was conflicted.

Their dad had left for a hunt yesterday in the next town over. A dangerous spirit or something along those lines- he'd been too rushed to be specific. He was on his way out of the small house they were staying in temporarily when suddenly Sam had bolted to the front door.

"Wait!" he cried. John paused, confusion etched into his features. Even Dean was surprised.

"What is it, son?"

"I-I...," Sam hesitated, his shoulders slumping. His gaze darted to the floor. "I'm scared...,"

"Scared?" Judging by the way he spoke, it was clear that John was not expecting him to say that. "Scared of what?"

"...The thing in my closet," the youngest Winchester answered quietly, his fists clenched. Dean's eyes immediately grew wide in alarm, and John steeled himself.

"What thing?" Dean felt compelled to ask, his protective nature taking over. His little brother didn't know it, but it could very well be something dangerous. Sam seemed reluctant to elaborate, but finally mumbled an answer.

"I... I don't know what it is. B-but I feel it watching me every night...,"

Dean was going to tell Sam that he was just imagining it, convince him that nothing was there and then look into it when he wasn't around. He wanted to keep his brother's innocence concerning what was in the darkness for as long as possible. But it seemed John had other plans, as he squatted down in front of his youngest son before he could speak. Dean's heart stopped and his eyes nearly popped out of his head as he watched his father pull a .45 out of the duffel bag on his shoulder, holding it out to Sam.

"Sam, if you think you see something in your closet, or anywhere else, don't hesitate. Shoot."

The nine-year-old took the gun with wide eyes, cradling it in his hands like it was made of glass. He looked back up at his father uncertainly.

"You need to be able to defend yourself, son, like Dean and like me," John continued. "Do you understand?"

Sam nodded slowly, looking back down at the .45.

Dean's eyes met his father's, and even though he was trying to express how not-okay he was with this without speaking, the older man's expression said that no argument would be strong enough to change his mind.

John redirected his gaze to Sam. He cupped the back of his head,

"Get good with that, Sammy. I'll see you boys later."

Dean understood completely why their father had given his little brother a gun. There was a very real chance that neither him nor their dad would be there to protect him one day, and then who would take care of him? The kid needed to be able to defend himself, and defense meant a weapon. It made sense.

But, at the same time, Sam was nine. He hadn't even reached double digits yet. That was too soon to be handling a gun in Dean's opinion. Sure, he himself had been trained in firearms at a young age, rather close to Sam's current age actually, but that was different. Dean was forced to learn because he was the only one capable of protecting both himself and his brother while their dad was away. He had no choice- Sam, however, did.

His thoughts were interrupted when they reached a bare spot in the wheat field. The small clearing had a tree that lay fallen next to its stump, its rotting wood somewhat of a contrast against the dark sky.

He watched as Sam ran to the tree, eagerly setting up a row of cans on top of it. He placed a few on the stump too, for good measure. Then he went over to Dean, who had his arms folded.

"Will that work, Dean?" the younger Winchester asked. His eyes were sparkling hopefully, craving approval from his older brother. Dean nodded and smiled slightly.

"Yeah, that's great," he replied, his brother's joy at the praise making his smile grow a bit wider. He took a deep but quiet breath, "Are you ready to learn how to shoot a gun, Sammy?"

Sam nodded eagerly and Dean began teaching his brother the basics of handling the weapon their father had given him. He couldn't help the constant feeling of dread that lingered in his chest as he did so, but that was okay. There was nothing he could do to soothe it anyways. As far as the hunting life went, Sam officially had one foot in. Dean would never be able to pull it back out, and Sam would never have the chance to walk away again, not completely anyways. Soon enough his little brother would be aware of the truth, of what really lurks in the shadows of the earth, and soon enough, he'd be killing them just like him and their father. For now, it was simply self defense. It was shooting a gun at cans to improve aim. But it wouldn't stay that way.

This... this was just the beginning.

-o-o-o-

Did you like it? I wonder if the show actually went into detail about the thing in Sam's closet, and the fact that John gave him a gun? (I hope not. I can't remember though. If it did... whoops...)

Thanks for reading!