likely_evil | 50prompts: Click, Click, Boom.

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50prompts: Click, Click, Boom.

He had accompanied Jo to the shooting range, intending to just sit back and watch her fire her weapon at the targets and few times and then go out for lunch like they had intended. That was the plan, and as the days of him being off the habit passed - minus the one setback - following a plan helped Sam get through each day.

He was working himself, writing in a little journal that he had brought to write out how he was feeling when he started to get an urge. It was a secret journal that no one was supposed to be able to look in but him, and he always kept it hidden in his back pocket.

Lately, there were two major topics. Dean, of course, and how Sam was afraid to face him. The other was about the woman who stood in front of him, firing her gun at the target until it started to make the clicking noises of an empty chamber. He knew that the feelings that were surfacing were reminiscent of those from when they had been teenagers, but still. Sometimes when he looked into her eyes, he wondered if she was feeling the same things he was.

"Seriously, Harvelle? You think you're gonna be able to take out one of the Kings with that little pea shooter you're always carrying?" Detective Megan Damon walked over, her short cropped blonde hair cutting a sharp angle around her face as she pulled off her goggles. She pulled out a larger semi-automatic, holding it up for Jo to see. "A girl's gotta make a statement, after all, when you're running with this crowd."

Meg turned and put her goggles back on, turning to the target and firing off a round until the click click made her stop. Most of the shots were in the stomach and face, nearly perfect. Jo watched, trying not to scowl as Meg leaned back, blowing smoke from the end of her gun. "That's how it's supposed to be done."

"Well, I guess that just means I need to come here more often and practice." Jo grabbed her bag and looked over at Sam. "I'm done. Let's go."

"What's the rush, Harvelle?" Meg put a hand on Jo's shoulder. "We hadn't even gotten to the friendly banter and innocent betting yet."

"Not in the mood."

Sam watched from his spot as the two women exchanged words, and a few of the men gathered to listen as well. Soon his view was blocked and he stood up, sliding his book into his back pocket and pushing through the crowd a bit to get closer.

"I'm not going to play your games, Meg."

"What, afraid you'll lose?"

"To you?" Jo scoffed. "Yeah, right."

"Then what about it? One little round between you and me. You win, and you can name your prize. I win..." Meg looked over at Sam, licking her lips. "I win and I get to take your little charity case for a spin."

Sam's eyebrow rose as he watched Jo's temper raise. "No deal." She started to push her way past the crowd, grabbing Sam's hand and tugging him alone.

Meg started to laugh, as well as a few of the others around her. "That's it, Harvelle. Run away. Just because your daddy was good, that doesn't mean shit when it comes to you."

Sam felt Jo's hand tense around his and he stopped her. "Jo..."

"No, Sam. I want to go."

He shook his head. "Please. One minute?"

Shaking her head, she crossed her arms. "She's a bitch, Sam. Not worth the time."

"Jo, I promise. One minute."

She looked up at his puppy eyes and sighed. "Fine."

"Give me your gun."

"What?"

"Trust me?"

Jo bit her lip, then handed Sam her gun and the goggles. Sam went back over to the group gathered and made his way over to Meg. "I'm not some charity case. I'll take your challenge."

Meg tilted her head and a few of the guys laughed before she nodded. "Too easy. You realize if I win, which I will, you're going to be my little boy toy, right?"

"Yeah, I got that. And if I win, you're going to apologize in front of everyone here to Jo, and then leave her alone from now on. Deal?"

"Sure thing, sparky."

"Ladies first."

Sam watched nervously as Meg took her round, getting some very good scores. He felt Jo slowly slide up beside him, nervous. Finally Meg leaned back and the group cheered as her final score was tallied. "Alright, junkie. Beat that."

A new target was put up. Sam put his goggles on, taking up the familiar feel of the weapon in his hand as he got the weight set in where his shoulders and arms held themselves. He remembered Dean helping him learn when he was a teenager, just after Dean himself went to the academy.

We're all naturals, Sammy. Part of being a Winchester. Just feel the gun and she'll guide you.

Dean didn't know about how true it was. Sam didn't even need to aim. Even when he was high as a kite he always had perfect aim - something that a few dealers learned as their last lesson in life. But right now, this was about honor and respect. And it was something that Sam knew he could do.

He heard the clicking before he realized he had fired his first shot. No one really spoke as the target came back with the center of both areas completely blown away. Not a single shot in anything outside the deadly areas.

Smirking, Sam blew off the imaginary smoke and looked at Meg. "Boom."

"How did you?"

Jo smirked, taking the gun from Sam and putting it back in her holster. "Detective Damon, meet Sam Winchester; John Winchester's younger son."

"Dean's kid brother?" One of the men in the crowd asked. Sam nodded, and suddenly the gathering turned into stories about Dean's antics in the force from when he had first joined all the way through recent times. Sam listened, watching the faces of all those who held admiration for his big brother. Things that people probably never told him to his face. And suddenly Sam learned more about his brother's last decade of life than he knew, and there was a smile on his face.

"We should go, Sam," Jo said after awhile. "You haven't eaten yet."

"Well, there's one thing left to do." He looked over at Meg. "I think you owe Jo an apology."

Meg scowled, then took a deep breath. "I was just teasing you, Jo. No harm was meant in it. Just some friendly competition."

Jo shrugged a bit. "It's cool."

"And about her father?" Sam gave Meg a look.

Meg rolled her eyes. "I guess I was wrong about that too. If he can be as good as his dad, then you've probably got a lot of talent from yours too. I didn't mean to disrespect him like that."

Jo smiled and nodded, then pulled Sam back out to the parking lot. Sam stopped at the passanger door and his fingers played on the top of the hood, making Jo stop before she got in. "Sam?"

"After lunch... can we go to Dean's? I think it's about time I saw him."

Jo smiled at that. "Why don't we get something to go then and bring Dean some lunch as well?"

"He just might like that, as long as we remember to get him a slice of pie."

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Dean wasn't exactly mobile at the moment. He could make it from the bed to the couch and back to the bed again but any more than that, and he was pushing it. The physical therapy was helping, slowly but surely, but the emphasis was on the slow part of that statement. At the moment, he was stretched out on the couch with a blanket over his lap, watching TV aimlessly.

His fingers were itching for a bottle. Itching in a way that he hated, because he couldn't do anything about it. He was on the pain meds, for one -- not that that would have stopped him to begin with -- but he also knew that Cas had tossed all of his booze done the sink, and going out to buy some more? Not an option. The only thing coming in to the house was whatever Cas brought him, and Cas was planning on keeping him sober.

Needless to say, it sucked.

But he was sticking with it for the time being, flipping through the channels, looking for something that would at least be remotely interesting and not bore him to tears.

After assuring Jo that he would call when he needed her to come get him, Sam grabbed the bag of diner food and started upstairs. He had been to his brother's place a few times, but the last time he had been here wasn't the easiest of memories.

Still, Sam slowly made his way up the four flights or stairs until he got to the apartment. He knocked on the door, looking around a bit at the dingy hallway.

Dean groaned slightly at the knock on the door. Cas wasn't around to get it, which meant Dean was going to have to get up. He'd just shout for them to come in, but the deadbolt was shut and he didn't know who it was yet.

He shifted into a sitting position, one arm bracing his side slightly, before using the other one to brace himself to his feet. "I'm coming!" he shouted through the door, slowly making his way across the room. He was about halfway through before he realized if he should figure out if making it the rest of the way was even worth it.

"Who is it?"

Sam took a deep breath and licked his lips.

"Dean... it's me." He paused a moment. "Sam."

Now to see if Dean would let him in.

Dean straightened slightly at that, a little surprised. He had been relatively certain that Sam was never going to speak to him again, handing him over to a bunch of cops, but if Sam was at the door, he wasn't going to turn him away.

"Give me a sec," he replied, before dropping his voice slightly, but if Sam was listening he could hear it. "Feel like a friggin' toddler."

Sam wasn't paying attention, instead just looking down the hallway and fidgeting nervously. He needed to find some gum. He was getting antsy and if he couldn't write he needed a piece of gum or something.

He also was hoping that no one here would remember him from the last time he lived here. The next door neighbors hadn't liked the idea of a junkie in this place. And while Sam had been clean for almost 2 months now between the hospital, Cas and Jo's... he still bore the scars under his baggy clothing.

Dean managed to make it to the door in the next few minutes, flipping the bolt quickly and opening the door, moving enough so that Sam could walk inside. He wasn't going to have a conversation in the doorway, not in the state he was in. He was hurting and he needed to get back to the couch before his legs gave out on him.

Sam ducked in, looking around the apartment quickly before looking back at his brother, about to thank him for letting him in when he saw the condition that Dean was in. "Oh shit, Dean... I... here, let me help you sit back down."

Yeah, instant little brother guilt in making Dean hurt to do something for him. Never goes away.

"Hey, no -- it's fine. I could use the exercise. Physical therapist says I should try to get up when I can -- just doesn't make it fun."

Dean waved a hand slightly as he shut the door, before starting to make his way back to the couch again. He knew if Sam insisted on helping, there was little he could to do stop him, and of course, he didn't mind, but he had to at least put up a show that Dean was okay on his own.

Sam sucked on his lips a moment, hedging back and forth between whether to help or not, and then figured Dean would rather he not and just hovered in case he was needed.

Jo and Cas could tell Dean just how good Sam was now at hovering.

"I... I thought that you might be hungry and brought you some lunch. Burger. Fries. Apple pie?"

"Awesome," Dean nodded as he made his way back, settling himself back on to the couch, before gesturing him to have a seat. "I'm starving. And Cas cooks all this health food crap. I haven't had a decent meal since before I landed in the hospital."

He cringed inwardly as soon as he said it, but it was the truth. He didn't want his brother feeling worse about this whole mess when really there wasn't a choice at all.

Sam looked down a moment, knowing that Dean hadn't meant anything beyond it, but still. Sam's fault. All Sam's fault.

"Well, I'm sure your heart thanks him for it." He focused on pulling the Styrofoam containers out of the bag and put them in Dean's reaching distance. There was even a spork for the pie.

"All he cooked for me was carbs, protein and vegetables."

"Same here, but it's none of the fun carbs." He balanced the container with the burger in his lap before picking up the burger and taking a large bite. He gave a bit of a happy groan at the flavor, before leaning back on the couch and letting himself swallow, before speaking up again.

"So, what brings you by?" Dean wasn't stupid. Given their history, he knew that it would take a lot more than lunch to get his brother at his front door. "Saw the pie and thought of me?"

And there's Dean, right to the point. Sam fidgeted some more, his fingers drumming on his knees.

"I... I haven't seen you since just before you woke up. I just... wanted to make sure you're doing ok."

Dean swallowed slightly before nodding a bit. "I'm alright. Could be worse." Had been worse, but Sam didn't need to hear that. "You doin' okay? Cas said something about you spending time with Jo?"

Sam might have blushed just a bit. "Yeah, she's letting me crash there for awhile. Helping me keep my nose clean."

He sighed and looked up at his brother. "Dean... I'm sorry..."

Dean smirked a bit at that, nodding as he ate. "Well, good for you."

His face sobered slightly when Sam started to apologize and he held up his hand, giving his brother a firm look. "Don't, Sam. What happened to me is not your fault. And even if it was, I would have made the same choice anyway." He shrugged a bit. "You're my brother. It's kind of a no-brainer."

"But if I had just stayed clean, like he tried so hard to help me with..."

His fingers moved faster, and then edged up to the crook of his arm where the sweatshirt hid the track lines. "I put you through hell, Dean. A couple of times over. How can you not be furious with me?"

Dean cocked an eyebrow in his brother's direction as he chewed on a french fry. He knew the answer to that lay somewhere in the realm of Dean thought he'd failed Sam for a large chunk of that, but that wasn't what Sam needed to hear. He knew at least that much.

"Sam, you really think you're the only one Dad's death screwed up in a big way? I'm not exactly perfect. I don't get room to judge."

"It wasn't just Dad's death, Dean."

Sam looked up at his brother. "You beat yourself up so much, and I was stupid. I should have been helping you..."

He wasn't going to tell Dean that it was his belief that Dean had gotten Dad killed that had started him on his own self destruction. Not when Dean was like this.

Dean's eyes dropped the food in front of him. He could still remember as clear as day the way his father looked when he took that bullet for him, and he still hated it. He was supposed to have died that day, and he didn't. He'd been trying to make up for it ever since, but it wasn't quiet seeming to take. His life only kept getting harder and he kept having to live through it.

"You lost your Dad, too, Sam. I didn't blame you."

It was what he deserved for not dying when he was supposed to.

"I know you don't. But I want you to. I was stupid and selfish and didn't see you were hurting. All i cared about was myself. We should have been helping each other, and I left you alone because it was easier to just blame you."

Sam took a sharp intake of breath. He hadn't meant to say that.

Dean crumpled a little more under that. He always knew, on some level, that Sam had blamed him but he had never heard Sam actually say it when he was sober. When he was high it was easy enough to blame it on the drugs. Sober meant that that was what Sam actually thought, and that always made it harder.

"Yeah, well -- wasn't like there was a reason not to. Blame me, I mean."

Sam chuckled sadly. "You'd be amazed at how clearly I can think when I'm not high, Dean. It wasn't your fault. Dad was being Dad, and you... we meant the world to him. He always said he would gladly take a bullet for us. I know I would for you. You obviously will take one for me. Hell, you're in that couch right now recovering from a punishment I should have taken."

He leaned closer to Dean. "I'm sorry I blamed you, Dean. It wasn't your fault. Dad would rather you be here still, so stop beating yourself up about it. And me doing what I did to myself was my fault, not yours. I need you to see that. I need you to blame me for this, and not yourself."

"Why?" Dean said softly, looking up at his brother again. "Alastair's been gunning for me for a long time. This would have happened whether you were involved or not. And you're my brother, Sammy. It's my job to protect you."

50prompts: Click, Click, Boom.

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