If there is one thing I hate, it is the taste of blood in my mouth. Spitting the foul red fluid onto the dusty ground I glare at my opponent.
"That the best you got?" I sneer, fists raised in their defensive positions. My head is pounding and I was starting to lose sight out of my left eye thanks to the strong right hook it received a few minutes ago. He shook his head solemnly as he to prepared for the fight to continue. Focus Rae. I encouraged myself. I didn't want to mess up, not today. I blinked and he was gone.
Shit...
I felt the impact of the blow in my spine. The force knocked me to my hands and knees. I took the opportunity, however, to take out his legs from underneath him. A grin of satisfaction crossed my face as I heard him hit the ground, knocking the air from his lungs. Hoping to have a moment to refocus my energy, I was quickly brought back into reality. I was dragged backwards by an invisible force and was on the receiving end of yet again, another punch. It connected with my jaw. That's gonna hurt for a while!
He grabbed me by the front of my flannel shirt, "Do it now!" He ordered.
"I can't!" I snapped back, my hands latching onto his wrists for support.
"Rachel-" He was cut off by a new voice.
"For God's sake, will you stop beating the shit out of my kid, Cas?" Dean stood, holding the screen door ajar from the back steps of Bobby's. Castiel set me back on the ground. Dean waited, "Are you going to heal her or not?" Cas looked at me. His cheekbone was starting to bruise and a dusty boot print stood out on his white shirt. At least I had landed a few solid hits this time.
"Do you want to try it yourself?" I smiled, painfully, and nodded slightly.
"Do you remember?"
I nodded again, closing my eyes, I tried to bring out the energy. Scowling, I kept searching. Nothing. A familiar pressure was placed on my shoulder. I opened my eyes, Castiel smiled slightly.
"Next time." He states. Placing two fingers on my forehead, I can feel the healing corse through my body. That was definitely something that sucked. I could feel the healing take place now. It wasn't just a "Snap of the fingers" kind of deal. In fact, it was the opposite of what it used to be. It was painful.
"Thanks," I said, as his fingers left my forehead. He nodded.
"We will work on the rest of this lesson tomorrow."
"Whatever you say Cas." I sighed, rubbing my jaw. Yeah, that was still going to be sore... The two of us walked towards Dean. Cas entered the house first and Dean and I brought up the rear.
"So, how's it going?" He asked genuinely.
"Besides getting my ass handed to me every day? Just peachy." I emphasized the last word. Dean frowned.
"Not what you expected?"
"I didn't know what to expect Dean." I shake my head, " However, I am developing a great right hook, if I do say so myself." I smirked, "If I could just get that last part down, then we could call it good and move on but...I don't know...It's harder than you'd think." Dean chuckled.
"I'm just surprised that you were wanting to even do this stuff..."
"Well when you are cursed, I guess it only makes sense to make the best of it." Dean frowned. I sigh again. Truth be told, I wasn't taking my own advice. This was not the "best of it", in fact I'm pretty sure I was still in the pits of the ordeal. I wasn't sleeping very often anymore, and I felt like I was in constant "fight or flight" mode. Maybe it was only anxiety that was behind my unease.
Dean watched me quizzically and I smiled, attempting to be genuine. It had been months since I had...kicked the bucket...and everyone in the house had been on constant "Rachel Watch". It was to the point where I wasn't sure whether I was being checked on for my well being, or if I was being held prisoner in my own home. Sometimes, I think it's actually the same thing.
"I'm going to go shower...and probably nap for a while." He nods at my statement.
"Okay, just call if you need something." I give my dad a sarcastic double thumbs up before turning around and head downstairs.
I strip off the dust covered flannel as I approach the thick iron door. It groans as I pull it open. We need to oil the hinges. I note to myself before stepping inside. Tossing the cover shirt aside I walk towards the metal lockers that served as my dresser and grabbed a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt. Making a bee-line for the bathroom, I couldn't wait to wash off today's practice.
The water was just hot enough to sting but not burn. It relaxed my sore body and that was all that mattered. Scrubbing the shampoo into my hair, I attempt to distract my mind by focusing on the tap of the water against me. Humming quietly, I wished Bobby's house had better water pressure. I watched in exhaustion as the dust and blood stained the water a murky brown. I remained there until the water ran cold.
Emerging from the bathroom, clean and dressed, I rubbed the towel against my hair. It was too long for my taste, I'd probably get it cut back to my shoulders or shorter. Where I was going to get it cut, would be a hunt all on its own.
Leaving my towel on the banister, I go into the den. I wonder who is home...
I try to recall where everyone was. Bobby out on a hunt in Nebraska, some sort of poltergeist in a nursing home I think... and Bentley was on a food run, so that meant that Cassidy was probably with him. She had mentioned something about needing a power strip for my laptop, or something like that. I lose track of her various projects. Sam and Dean were here and so was Cas. Moving books off of the couch, I stretch out into a comfortable position. I had been up since 5 a.m. and based on my watch it was Nap:30. I was gone as soon as I shut my eyes.
A loud banging echoed through the house and I opened one eye. Fight or Flight mode kicks in as I register the sound. It wasn't a gun shot, thankfully. I contemplate my next move. One of the guys probably dropped something in the kitchen. Closing my eye again, I start to fall asleep again. Another loud bang echoed through the house.
"Guys! Could you possibly be quiet?" I shout, rolling over. No one replies to my question. With a sigh, I sit up, pushing the hair out of my face.
"Guys!" Still nothing. Grumbling, I get off the couch and head into the hallway. The door to the basement was open. No wonder they couldn't hear me! Shaking my head, I go to the kitchen to warm up coffee. Footsteps thump up the stairs.
"What were you doing down there?" I ask, back turned to whoever was coming up the stairs. They set something down on the table. It sounded like one of the rifles.
"Are w-"
"I hope you don't mind, I helped myself to your semi-automatic rifle." The voice didn't belong to anyone that I knew. I straighten up. It didn't belong to anyone that was supposed to be in my house. Whipping around, the frying pan from the stove in hand. My eyes lock onto the boy before me.
"What do you want." I demand. I don't care who he is, only why he is here. He smirks.
"Coffee would be great thanks." He takes a seat at the table. Not making a move for the gun. I remain still.
"What do you want." I demand again. He looks at me.
"It is bad form not to introduce ourselves."
"What do you want." This guy was getting on my nerves. Clenching my jaw, I stare him down.
He stands up. Pushing the chair back in one quick motion. I drop into defense position, low and balanced.
"Turner," he states, "Jesse Turner." Jesse begins moving around the table. I, in turn, move away from him, keeping the distance between us. He smirks again.
"What do you want." I repeat. I would not acknowledge him beyond those four words.
"Do you know what the best part of this is?" He asks, raising an eyebrow. I blink and he is gone, sending my anxiety through the roof. "Is that I am limitless." The voice comes from behind me. I swing around preparing to hit the boy. The frying pan hits into the cupboard, fracturing the wood. His laugh echos and I am pissed. I hated the evasion bullshit.
The frying pan is ripped from my hands, leaving me without a weapon. I search my pockets for my knife, it isn't there. Jesse stands across the kitchen from me, arms folded on his chest, legs crossed nonchalantly at the ankle, leaning on the door frame. I can feel the heat boiling under my skin. I am seething with rage.
"What do you want!" I snap, feeling the ache in my shoulders.
"I want to see you, Rachel Winchester." He flickers before reappearing in front of me. "I want to see what you can do." I swing with that right hook of mine, but the asshole disappears again. I clench my jaw.
This guy was not getting out of here on good terms. I try to signal in on his energy, like Cas showed me yesterday, but nothing seems to be registering.
"Soon." He is behind me again, and again I take a swing.
I roll off the couch, smacking my head on the coffee table. It splits the skin instantly. Profanity slips my mental filter. I'm on my feet in a matter of seconds and am ready to fight. Where is that piece of shit? I storm into the kitchen ready for round two, taking Bobby's hunting knife from the desk.
Sam, Dean and Cas are all on their feet, hands reaching for their guns. They stare at me, blood oozing down my forehead, blade in hand.
"Rach-?" Dean starts but I cut him off. I can feel my anger radiating off me.
"Who the freaking hell is Jesse Turner?"
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Author's Note:
I KNOW I SAID SUNDAY BUT OH MY GOSH SUPERNATURAL SEASON 11!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Have a good night my kick ass friends!
Hellatus is over!!!!!!!!
-Rachel