Sam's mind was going a mile a minute. School was easy, but he can't help getting annoyed when people like Roy and Kurt antagonize him 24/7. He's been held at this school for just over a month. Apparently dad was having trouble catching the monster that ran these streets, and it doesn't look like he'll find the thing anytime soon. He usually likes to stay at schools for as long as he can, but this time was different. There's two guys, Roy and Kurt. They always find ways to get under his skin, or make him mad. They recently started to get physical, and Dean noticed. That part didn't last long, but they just went back to words. Whoever said "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me" is a load of crap. Just because it rhymes doesn't mean it's true.
It's close to the end of the day, so he can get out of this hell soon. But instead of being able to walk home and clear his overly clustered mind, Dean has to pick him up.
He's fourteen years old, yet his father didn't trust him to walk home along. But John would never admit that. He'd always pull the,'I trust you, just not other people' card. It's really just one more dumb excuse his father used, and one more way to tell him not so suddedly that he didn't trust his son.
So when he walked outside of the building that reminded him of a prison, he could see the Impala sitting in the first row of cars. Dean had stepped out of the car to smoke. His father would kill Dean if he found out, and Dean would kill Sam is he squabbled. It was a perfect triangle if rules the other doesn't know about.
He stepped up to the car and opened the door. He stepped inside while throwing his bag in the back. Not caring that there is a folder full of homework he won't be able to get done because he'll be training instead of living his life. He usually found himself in a fight about that stuff with his father, but the already pounding sensation in his head told him it wasn't worth it. Not today anyway. He'd be the soldier his father wanted, and not the son any other man would want. But only for today.
The smell of Dean's leather jacket mixed with gun powder filled his nose with a sensation of home. Although the strong smell didn't help his headache, it felt nice to be so close to his brother.
They didn't really speak on the way home, or in other words to the crappy motel they were taking residents in. It wasn't really 'homey', but it'd do.
The second they stepped into the room, their father was barking orders to get to the field and out of site to train. Even though he wanted to sleep and ease his mind from all the things that was tumbling in his head, he just nodded and said "Yes sir",just to not start anything. He really couldn't handle another screaming fit, and anyway, he was afraid they'd get kicked out if they disturbed the neighbors one more time.
His father decided to drive while Sam and Dean enjoyed the ride. The field they normally trained at was only ten minutes away. It was out of sight from anyone who wondered the streets or old dirt roads. Trees rimmed the whole place. It was perfect. The minute they stopped, their father got out to grab things from the trunk while the two other boys got out to find their traditional spot to train. They started off with shooting. Their father would set up his glass beer bottles on a log, then they'd have to aim and shoot. It wasn't the worst thing to do, although it would eventually get painful to hear. Even with the little rubber earplugs in, the sound was still excruciating. It made the headache worse. By the time he was to his 11th bottle, sweat beaded his face.
" Sam! You need to aim higher. You're too low, now you're just wasting my bullets," his father belted. In fact Sam has only gotten six out of the eleven he had aimed for. Dean could get at least nine.
" Yes sir, sorry sir," Sam said, keeping the agitation out of his voice. John was kinda surprised to not hear a snide comment come out of his son. He expected something like,"I'm trying or Id like to see you try when you're this short"
And anyway, he was pretty good for his age. Better than any kid his age should be. But then thoughts of demons and vampires creep in and tell him it's better for them to be prepared, then be monster chow. He looked back at his son. Same blinked at the bottles. Little did he know, Sam was trying to get the sudden blurriness to leave.
" Shoot the damn thing already!" John yelled, probably still a little drunk. He always was.
Sam shot the gun again, but he missed. He tried again, and missed again. The third time he hit a bottle, the blurriness and vertigo having subsided. He hit the next two, then gave the gun to Dean. He hit all but one. His father smiled at Dean, his obviously favorite son.
Well I'm sorry Sam though, Dean has had almost six years extra of practice.
They didn't start training Sam until a he was like nine. Dean started at about four. He can't be as good as Dean, it was just simply not possible.
![Dead On Arrival [Destiel] by NickyMicky26](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/22876164-80-k5300.jpg)
They put the guns away, and did a lap around the whole field. It was at least a mile. Despite the countless times he's done it, this time especially took him down. Dean finished a whole two minutes before he did. His arms and legs getting heavier and heavier each step he took. By the time he finally got back to his father and brother, they had to start wrestling/sparing.
" Do we have to?" Sam finally allowed his tiredness to show. Sweat laced his face, his skin was pale, and his cheeks sunken in.
" Yes, training is not optional, it's mandatory. Now hurry and fight your brother."
John said angrily. Dean gave Sam a shrug. He could see his little brother was tired, but he couldn't let his father see him go easy on the kid. They got into the fighting stance, and Sam raised his fist to lay down a punch, but it was easily blocked by Dean. As a counter attack, Dean karate chopped Sam's side. He stumbled, but regained his stability. A wave of dizziness came over him, had he had enough water to drink today? He didn't know, all he knew was that his brothers fist was coming at him. He just barely moved out of the way.
Sam decided to lay a punch in his brother's chest area, but got kicked in the side before he had the chance. He fell to the ground and coughed. Every ounce of air was ripped from his lungs. He couldn't help the feeling of nausea to creep into this throat.
Dean ran to his side.
" Oh my god Sam! I'm so sorry!" Dean said as he kneeled down to his sprawled out brother.
Through the slight gasps, Sam managed to say
" It's- Kay"
" Here, let me help you up," Dean said stretching out his hand after he stood up. Sam reached up, but moving that fast made his head spin. When he got on his feet, Dean had to hold onto him so he would fall over again.
" Dude, are you okay?"
" Y-Yeah, just a-little dizzy,"
" Maybe we should call it a day?" Dean half demanded and half asked his father.
" I guess, let's go home," John said grabbing the left over equipment while Dean lead Sam to the car.
He opened the door, and let Sam climb in. He stood outside of the door while Sam leaned against the sat in front of him, his legs outside the car door. Dean kneeled in front of him with an opened bottle of water. Sam's shaky hands grabbed the bottle, and he took a small sip. The water seemed really cold, and he couldn't help a shiver. Dean saw, and concern started to really take form. He placed his hand on his brothers forehead and felt the heat radiate off. Sam winced at the coldness of Dean's hand.
" I think you have a fever," Dean said now placing his hands on Sam's cheeks.
Sam took another sip of water, but it instantly turned its way back up. He put his hand over his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut. He hated to puke. Hated it. It was the worst part about being alive, of even existing.
Dean could see his brother's urgency, and knew what was coming. He grabbed Sam and pulled him away from the Impala, and Sam instantly started to puke. He leaned on Dean, but he was far enough away to not puke on him. Dean rubbed Sam's back.
" It's okay,"Dean soothed. John came around to see what all the commotion was. Sam was bent over Dean throwing up everything he had rated for the past two years. John looked at his soon with pity.
" He has a fever," Dean said, looking at John.
" Okay, well when he's done, get him in the car so we can take him home,"
Dean nodded and moved the bangs out of Sam's eyes. They sat there for about five minutes, and all the puking had stopped. The only sounds left were Sam's heavy breathing and crickets.
" You done?"
Sam nodded.
Dean lifted his brother up, but he couldn't stand on his own two feet. Dean had to pick him up bridal style and put him into the car. Dean got in the front, and John drove.
John looked in the rear view mirror. Sam was leaning heavily in the back seat. His face was pale and sweaty. His eyes were closed, but lines of pain creased his face. Sam looked really sick, and he was starting to feel bad for making him train. They had to stop two times for Sam to throw up the little water left in his stomach.
