CHAPTER SIX IS FINISHED! YAY! Now titled: When I Look into the Mirror (My Reflection Tells me Lies). Happy reading!
Sam scowled at his trembling hands, clenching them hard in an attempt to stop the shaking.
He wished he knew what the hell was wrong with him, because this had never been an issue before, and he had enough trouble shooting a target as it was. He didn't need any more complications. The gun felt heavy in his unsteady fingers, and he hated it.
Trying to tell John that Sam shouldn't shoot a gun was like trying to tell Dean that he shouldn't have sex. It was damn near impossible. But Jesus Christ, if Sam couldn't hold the gun steady, he shouldn't be trying to shoot. He'd get someone killed. Time and time again over the past week he'd tried to explain this to his father, and time and time again John's answer was the same. You're a big boy, Sam. Deal with it. We need you on back up.
Except he wouldn't be very good back up if he shot Dad or Dean instead of whatever it was they were hunting, now would he?
Sam's gaze landed on the gun next to him and his scowl deepened. Stupid gun. Stupid silver bullets. Stupid werewolf and its need to be shot with stupid silver bullets from the stupid gun.
"What're you brooding about back there, Sammy?" Dean teased from the passenger seat of the Impala.
"Shut up," Sam replied automatically, turning his scowl on his big brother. Dean grinned back at him.
"Come on, Sasquatch, get psyched!" Dean's grin widened. "We're hunting werewolf tonight!"
Sam scowled out the window. Yes, tonight they were hunting a werewolf, and Sam had been put in charge of shooting said werewolf by their foolish father who didn't understand that you can't force someone with shaking hands to try to shoot something. It was just not a good idea. At all.
"All right, boys, we're here," John stated, turning off the engine and interrupting Sam's scowling session. "Dean, you ready?"
"Yessir," Dean enthused, beaming with excitement.
"Good." John turned to his younger son. "Sam?"
"Yes sir," Sam mumbled.
"Good," John said. "Make sure you keep it that way."
Sam sighed and barely contained an eye-roll.
The traipsed through the forest a ways before John ordered Dean and Sam to go one way while he went the other. The gun in Sam's hand trembled in time with the spasming muscles.
"Shh," Dean hissed suddenly, stopping Sam with a hand on his chest. "Hear that?"
How could Sam not? The howling sounded like it was coming from right next to them. A branch snapped somewhere in the distance.
Please don't let me shoot Dean, Sam prayed silently as he cocked the gun. Please, God, don't let me shoot Dean.
"Sam, in front of you!" Dean's yell had Sam's head snapping up.