After lunch Sam took Dean to the back of Bobby's house, setting up a row of rusted cans on the edge of a fence. He then handed Dean a shotgun which Dean just stared at for a few moments.

"You ever shoot a gun before?" Sam asked, coming back to his side.

"Only a BB gun." Dean told him, turning the gun over in his hands. "I mean, I know the whole point, aim, shoot, but that's it."

Sam smiled slightly and wrapped his hands around Deans wrists, manipulating him around until he was holding the shotgun properly. He used his knee to bring the shotgun up towards his eyes.

"You just put this piece in the back in the middle of the other two in front." he told him. He moved Deans shoulders around so that his shoulder was pressed into the back of the shotgun. "There's going to be recoil so you have to be able to absorb it."

"And the little guns?" Dean asked, shifting himself to get a bit more comfortable. "Same recoil?"

"Not as much but still plenty." Sam said. "Makes the wrists hurt to all hell at the end of the day."

Shaking his head Dean pressed his feet into the ground, bringing the shotgun up again, putting everything into place like Sam told him to, the back of it pressed into his shoulder.

"Alright, so just shoot the cans?" Dean asked, ignoring the discomfort in his shoulder.

"Just shoot them, if you can't shoot an intimate object, you can't shoot a moving target." Sam said. "Just try your best."

Dean nodded, trying to put everything in order like Sam told him to. Taking a deep breath he lined it up with the cans and then pressed on the trigger, shooting it and immediately slamming it against his shoulder.

Swearing he brought the gun down and rubbed at his shoulder, groaning and gritting his teeth. When he looked up at the cans he swore again, he had missed them all completely.

Next to him, Sam was laughing, shaking his head and grinning. "Nice try." he told him. "And it's okay, it's hard to do it the first time."

"Yeah, yeah." Dean muttered, bringing the shotgun back up, trying to get everything into place. Sam reached out and corrected it, moving the gun and putting his leg between Deans legs to move them apart.

"You're thinking too much, just focus on the targets." Sam told him. "Clear your mind and just shoot."

Letting another deep breath out, Dean moved into place again, pressing the trigger. This time the recoil was expected and didn't hurt as much, and the bullet hit the side of the can but at least it hit.

"You're doing better, just keep trying." Sam said. "That's the thing with everything, keep trying. After this we're doing knife work."

"Wouldn't mind using the knife right now instead of this." Dean said, rubbing at his shoulder once more. "What are we going to do with that?"

"Knife throwing and moving onto machete uses." Sam told him. "We got logs for you to practice on so you can get into the swing of things, literally."

Remembering what Sam had said about vampires, that you chopped their heads off, he couldn't help but shiver slightly at the implications.

But it was necessary, it had been discussed over lunch that John and Dean were going to get the speedrun of training to become hunters. Mary looked like she had swallowed a lemon at that and Sam had trouble looking at any of them, but it was a decision that neither of them were budging on.

Mom and dad were inside reading up, Mary was catching up on the things that had changed over the last few years, and giving John the sparknotes version of everything.

Shaking his head Dean brought the gun back up, aiming, and pulling the trigger, gritting his teeth against the recoil.

Inside the house Mary glanced outside at the sound of gunshots, feeling John flinch next to her with each one.

It's been so long that something happened to trigger him like this that she had actually forgotten about it.

"Want me to find some earmuffs or something for you?" she asked, turning back to him.

John looked pale, hands trembling as he gripped at the book. He swallowed hard and used his arm to wipe the sweat off of his brow.

"No." he managed to get out. "I'm fine, just need to-" he stopped and closed his eyes when another shot went off, shaking hard. "-get used to it."

Mary wrapped her arm around him, pressing close into him. "I'm sorry." she said quietly, reaching out to entwine their fingers together. He gripped back at her tightly, taking a deep breath.

Bobby came over holding a glass of something, it didn't matter what, it was alcoholic and strong and that was all that John needed. He took it with a shaking hand and half drained the glass.

"Sam told me you were in Vietnam." Bobby said. "PTSD?"

"Yeah." John said lowly, gripping at Marys hand tightly, she gripped back just as much. "Went to a therapist a while back but now-" he flinched at another shot. "Didn't really have this before."

He swallowed the rest of the drink, slowly breathing out, steeling himself as another gunshot rang. "I just gotta get used to being in this again."

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