💔 // from john?
75. Your muse kills mine.
they have been hunting together for a while now. john being back is hard enough of the winchesters, not mention having to explain everything as well. including sam’s unfortunate role as lucifer, to dean’s michael. the tension had been running high, thick enough to cut a knife with. to take the tension out of the room, sam had agreed to go on a hunting trip with his father. there was a local werewolf nest in the area that needed to be taken care of. might as well take their anger out on monsters, versus each other.
sam’s stopped by his father, and his father’s gun. sam stops in his steps, staring down his father. he’s so confused. “dad?”
“you’re not my son.” he grunts, pulling the hammer back, and readying his aim. sam goes to open his mouth again, and his monster-hunter father doesn’t pause.
the gun goes off with a loud
BANG
what feels like liquid fire running through his stomach is actually the bullet, entering his body. his chest heaves, before doubling over in pain.
sam falls to his knees, gasping in agony, staring wide-eyed at his father, terrified. “d-d—”
“DON’T.” john barks at him, watching him with lifelessness. sam should’ve known better– he’s the enemy. “you’re the reason your mother’s dead, the reason dean’s given his life–” he pauses, shaking the emotion from his face and voice. “sam, you’re a monster; just like the ones we hunt.” he walks up to his son, watching him writhe against the ground like a bird watching a worm crawl from the dirt. “so many people would be alive if you weren’t sam. i can’t have you crawling the earth damning everyone.” he pauses in thought for a moment.
black is starting to encompass sam’s vision as he hears the footsteps trail away from him.
he’s just been left to die, like an animal in the wild.
and it’s only getting colder.
