Glory And Gore

Chapter Two

It was both Rory and Cas. Cas seemed nervous, still not quite meeting her gaze. Rory was more relaxed than he had been earlier at least, dipping his head towards her in greeting. When he peered closer, his brow furrowed into concern.

"You alright?" Rory asked, and Levy nodded, standing up straight and wiping her hands. She had nothing to say in reply to that. "Okay... I see you waited for us."

"Uh, yeah. Yeah." Levy took a breath and steeled herself. "I figure we can line the ammo up with what it goes with- make it easier in emergency situations. Keep a tight ship around here, get someone to check every morning when we get up and every night before bed."

Rory brought his lips together and nodded. "Sounds like a good plan to me. What do you think, Cas?"

Cas was silent for a time, and Levy looked towards him. His head was down, and he seemed lonely, down. As if realizing his opinion was actually asked for, he said, "Yeah. It works."

Levy wanted to say something. She wanted to say that taking a life wasn't as easy as she or Shane or even Maverick made it seem. Rory, from what she'd heard, had been in a life or death situation, but she didn't know how he'd handle himself otherwise. Levy's nightmares were just contained compared to Cas's.

The truth of it was, Levy didn't remember killing those people. She knew she did. She had their blood on her for a reason. Fresh blood. Sometimes, her nightmares would show flashes. Mrs. Tabby's face. Mr. Ken crying. Levy didn't remember the details. She just remembered she did it.

But she didn't know how to say it. Didn't know if Cas would want her to say something. So she ducked her head and got to work.

"Cas, start on the rifles. Rory, I want you on shotguns. I'll take the handguns."

Two hours later, everything had an ID number, label, a proper spot, and rough estimation of ammunition. Cas found a clipboard for Levy to use, and she made several weeks' worth of pages to check off on. She did it diligently, leaving a spot for ID numbers, boxes, and a spot to initial. Levy supposed high school clubs did have some uses.

"Good to go?" Rory asked as she finished up the writing and ran a hand through her hair. She still hadn't grabbed those damn ponytail holders.

She nodded. "Oh, uhm..." She had to try. Or else Shane would keep being an asshole. "Rory, earlier when you... threw the knife... Where did you learn how to do that?"

His eyes lit up, and he cleared his throat to seem cool. "Well, my, uh, friend from way back when had anger problems. He ended up with some court mandated anger management, and what worked best for him was transference. Transferring his anger from the situation he was pissed about into something else. He'd ask me to accompany him to those ax and knife throwing places at least once a week."

Levy nodded. She was tempted to ask if he would show her, but she didn't.

As if reading her mind, or maybe just going along with his talkative personality, Rory asked, "What about you? You're wicked good with that sword."

Levy's hand drifted to the hilt. "My parents were rich. Super rich and living in a small town. When I was younger, I saw this movie, and I thought the warrior was so cool. I wanted to be like him, so they found a way for a tutor to come in and teach me. I kept up with it through middle school. I was just stopping in high school- didn't fit the crowd I was with- and then... this happened."

"Hunh." Rory leaned against the wall next to her as she organized stupid shit on the desk, needing something for her hands. "Archer has been wondering if he could learn. He's not good at throwing, but he doesn't wanna rely on guns all the time. Could you maybe... teach him?"