Fallen

Chapter Twelve

After the three of us have finished our lunch, the boys tell me to follow them. They lead me down another hallway and we end up in a big shooting range. I get excited but nervous. I've never held a gun before in my life. And I've only ever killed one person, but a demon isn't even technically a person, right?

We walk to a section in the middle of the range. Dean sets his silver handgun with a white plated grip down on the counter and begins to show me the works on a black pistol. He shows me the basics such as the safety, the magazine and magazine release, the slide and the sights. Some of the stuff I already knew.

     Then Dean holds the black pistol out to me with the handle facing me. "You know how to hold one?" He asks.

"I've watched my fair share of cop shows," I say. I carefully take the gun with my right hand. My fingers wrap around the handle and I turn to face the silhouette target. I place my left hand so that the magazine rests on my palm and bring the gun up in front of myself.

"Here," Sam says from the other side of me. He walks around me and puts his hands on top of mine from behind me. Chills run up my spine. This feels like something straight out of a cheesy romance movie. Sam moves my left hand so that it's on top of my right with my thumb resting on the side the gun just above the trigger. Then he moves his hands to my shoulders. "Relax your shoulders," he says. I didn't even realize how tense I was. But his being so close to me probably wasn't helping. Then he steps back to where he was originally standing. "Keep your arm straight, but don't lock your elbow." He adjusts my arm.

     "Keep your feet planted," Dean adds. "It'll take you a few tries to get used to the recoil."

     I do as he says and plant my feet. Then I pull the slide back and let it return to its original position. I line up the sights of the gun and move my finger to the trigger. I take a deep breath and pull the trigger. The recoil wasn't as bad as I was expecting. I take my finger off the trigger and lower the gun to see where my bullet hit. There's a small hole in the target a few inches away from the silhouette's head. I'm excited that I actually hit it, but at the same time, I'm a little disappointed in myself.

     "Not bad for your first shot, kid," Dean praises.

     "I can do better," I say, raising the gun. I line up the sights and pull the trigger. I lower the gun again. This time, I hit the silhouette's neck. That's more like it. "Well that's one way to get the job done, right?" I say.

     They both look a bit dumbfounded. "Uh... Yeah," Sam stutters.

"You're a fast learner," Dean says.

I smile. "Hopefully, it'll be that way when I start angel training," I say. "Have you guys heard anything from Castiel?"

"No," Sam says. "But I'm sure he'll be back soon."

"He better be," Dean mumbles.

I frown. I thought we were getting along, but I guess I was wrong. I try to hand the pistol back to Dean, but he stops me.

"Hang on to it," he says. "Never know what might happen."

"Thanks," I reluctantly say.

The rest of the day is relatively uneventful other than the boys telling me everything they know about every kind of monster they've ever dealt with. They tell me all about the literal hell they've been through. They tell me about the Leviathans and how my father was the reason they were even on Earth in the first place. Finally, they tell me about their most recent obstacles: the Trials to close the gates of Hell, the demon Crowley, the tablets, and their prophet friend Kevin.

I tell them that I'll help in any way that I can, and that's the end of it. By then, it's late at night. They tell me that we'll practice shooting again tomorrow, and we all head to bed.

I pull my car into the apartment complex and park in my usual space. Today was another long day at work. It was one of those days where about six crazy people came in reeking havoc for no reason other than sheer ignorance. Yay for working retail. I get out of my car and head to the apartment. Just before I get to the door, I realize that something isn't right.

What am I doing here? Where are Sam and Dean? Why aren't I at the bunker? I check my bag that's over my shoulder and see that all my old junk is in it. There's no clothes, no toiletries, no shoes... and no angel blade.

I'm pulled from my thoughts when I hear a blood-curdling scream come from my apartment. I drop my bag and run the short distance to the door. I sling the door open and see my mother strapped to a chair, just like she was the day Castiel found me. Only this time, her wounds are worse. Her face is swollen to the point where I can hardly recognize her. She's covered in blood, and there's a pool of it on the carpet underneath her.

A man wearing an all black suit stands next to her. "Hello, darling," he says in a British accent.

The sight of my mother brings tears to my eyes. "Mom-"

I take a step closer, but a different man reaches from behind her and puts a knife to her throat. "Ah ah ah!" The British man says to me.

"What do you want?!" I yell at the man.

"Truthfully, I would love some demons who know how to do their job THE FIRST TIME AROUND," he yells the end of his sentence at the man behind my mother. I'm assuming he's a demon. "But we can't always get what we want, now, can we?"

"Leave her alone," I growl.

"Or what? You'll kill me? In case you haven't noticed, sweetheart, your little angel stick is back in the real world." The real world?

My teeth clench. "Do not call me sweetheart." The nickname makes me think of Dean. God I wish he were here right now.

The British man laughs. "I've got a knife to your mother's throat, and that's what you're worried about?"

"What is this? Who are you? What do you want from me?!"

"Please, darling, one question at a time, you're making my head spin," he says in the same emotionless tone he's been using this whole time. This man is snarky and sarcastic, and it pisses me off.

"Just let her go," I try to negotiate with him. "She has nothing to do with this." Whatever this even is...

"I'd love to, but the thing is: all this has already happened. I just wanted to show it to you," he says. "To show you that I mean business, of coarse." He nods to the demon holding a knife to my mother. The demon drags the blade across my mother's throat, sending blood dripping down her neck.

The sound of my loud scream fills the entire room. My face is drenched in tears and my sobs are as loud as my scream. My vision is almost too blurred to see Sam burst through the door with a gun in his hand. When he sees me, he sets his gun down and rushes to my side. He sits next to me on my bed and wraps me in his arms.

"Shhh, it's okay, it's okay, calm down," he says as he strokes my hair. "It was just a dream, you're okay." He starts to slowly rock me back and forth in his arms. "You're okay, I've got you." Eventually, my heart rate slowed and my breathing went back to normal.

"It was real," I whisper. Tears still roll down my face.

"It was just a dream, Celeste," Sam says. His voice is soothing, but I'm not convinced.

"It was real."