Side Story 1: The Journey Before
1997 Motel Apartment
"…I will be back by tonight. Sam, practise your gun stripping till I come back," John said as he packs his bag.
"Erm…Dad? I kinda promised that I'll go to my team's soccer match this evening…"
"No, you will be practising gun stripping - till you can do it with your eyes closed."
"But…but… Can't I do it tomorrow…no..tonight. I'll do it tonight. And tomorrow. I swear I will…"
"Sam! I said practise now. If you've done more practices like I told you to, you wouldn't have problem with it yesterday!"
"That was an accident! And it was just for a moment! It just somehow got stuck when I'm…"
"Enough! This is an order. You, Sam Winchester, will practise gun stripping from now until I come back. Sometimes a second is all it takes - to save you or kill you…or us," John gave him a stern look which shuts him up at once. "Dean, make sure he does it right," John ordered.
"Yes, sir…" Dean replied and the door swings shut. Sam stood there dejectedly, facing the closed door.
"Come on, Sammy, you heard him," Dean walked to the table that is littered with firearms and began fiddling with one of them.
Sam drags himself to the table and stared resentfully at the guns.
"Want me to show you how to do it?" Dean asked.
"I know how to strip a gun, Dean," Sam said sulkily and picked up the nearest one.
He dissembled the gun half-heartedly, sighing as he did so.
"Hey, just do it properly. It's important to know how to handle your weapon in a hunt," Dean said reasonably.
"Then I don't want to hunt!" Sam dropped the parts in his hands and glared up at Dean. "Why must we learn how to hunt, Dean? Why must we become hunters like Dad? Why can't we just live a normal life like everyone else?" Sam ranted heatedly.
"Because we know what's out there! We save people. And we have to find the thing that killed mum, remember?"
"You think mum would have wanted this for us? Risking our lives fighting monsters? You think she would want us to go the same way she did?"
Bam! Dean slams the rifle he is holding back onto the table. The two of them glower at each other. Sam is still breathing heavily from the intensity of the conversation and he noticed Dean's right hand had tightened into a fist.
"Keep practicing on that damn gun," Dean commanded before walking away.
Sam continue to glare after him for a moment and then went back to disassembling the weapon.
Dean sat down at the sofa and started cleaning his own gun. The things that Sam had shouted at him earlier on are still ringing in his head. Although it is important to learn hunting and find mum's killer, Dean wants Sam to be happy. He truly wishes, from the bottom of his heart, that Sam can be a normal kid - going for a stupid high school soccer match when he wants to and having a good time with his friends, just like everyone else.
Time ticks by and Sam becomes increasingly sulky as the hour hand moves closer and closer to 5. He has been practising with the guns for two hours straight and although he still can't do it with his eyes closed, he's getting pretty good.
"Oh crap!" Sam looks up to see that Dean had accidentally spilt some oil onto himself while oiling his gun. He sees him shrugging off his stained shirt; uses it to clean away the oil on his hand; tosses it into the basket of dirty laundry; and goes straight into the shower.
The gushing sound of the water sounded from the bathroom. Sam's eyes flash up to the clock. He'll be able to make it if he leaves – right now. He looks to the bathroom; and then to the clock; and then to the gun in his hand; and then back to the clock again. What shall he do? Dad and Dean will both be so mad at him… But he did promise.
Sam drops the gun in his hand and grabs his bag, his soccer attire already inside. He then pockets his lock-picker in his back pocket – a habit ingrained into him by Dad and Dean. Then, as quietly as possible, he unlocks the door and slips right out, closing it as softly as he can. As soon as he is out, he runs flat out towards the field where the match is held.
The rushing water in the bathroom cuts off abruptly. Dean got out of the shower to find himself all alone in the house, the gun and it's parts strewn carelessly on the table. He goes over to the door to lock it back up and replenishes the salt line below it.
He sighs to himself, hoping intensely that Sam will be back before Dad does.
Dean sits by the door staring at the line of salt crystals and he smiled a small smile that nobody saw.
Just watched episode 12x20, can't wait for more! XD
Preview
Coming soon… Chapter 3: I Don't Regret This, Sam