Another curse through a hushed breath and Abigail slowly pulled out her gun, holding it steadily in both hands. She looked at the metal glistening in the midday sunlight and let a smile form on her lips. She had to admit, she loved the adrenaline, even if the odds of this fight were against her. Her heart was racing as she attempted to calm her shaking hands, closing her eyes. She could hear the floorboards creaking just beyond the wooden door and imagined the pair ready to storm into the room at any second, weapons loaded and aimed straight for her. Shoot first, ask questions later.
Leaning against the back of the chair she remembered how that was the first thing Bobby had taught her, and that the gun that rested in her hand was one he'd given her. Since then it had accompanied her everywhere. To people like them, their gun was the most important thing they carried. Some would be known just by the gun they owned, most with their own specific markings to make them personal to each and every owner. This gun was hers, a constant reminder of the sacrifices she must make in life for other people.
The study's door burst open, thundering against the thin wall and echoing through the old house. Abigail's thoughts were interrupted and her fluttering heart stopped dead as she clenched every muscled in her body. The floorboards creaked as two sets of footsteps edged closer, but in separate directions. Step. Step. Step. Silence.
Step.
It was only then that she realised she'd been holding her breath. With a hasty exhale and a deep gasp she threw herself out from behind the chair, gun outstretched, immediately regretting her poor timing. She hadn't had time to prepare a decent assault and now she was left vulnerable, even if she refused to let her opponent sense even a drop of fear about her. Standing before her was the taller of the two, his glimmering gun flitting between her head and her chest. The moments passed like hours, timed by the racing of Abigail's heart.
"What are you doing here?" He half yelled, torn between being calm and collected, or taking the aggressive route.
"I could ask you the same." She replied, attempting to steady the adrenaline that was present in her voice.
Their eyes locked and for a split second Abigail thought she saw something familiar. But it was only for that fraction of a second as in the moments that followed, most conscious decisions were forgotten and instinct took over.
Strong hands grabbed her from behind, one hand pushing her arm up to the ceiling and disarming her, while Sam hastily dropped to the floor in case the gun should discharge, and the other gripping her other arm as it wound around her waist. Shit.
The gun skittered along the floor and Sam kicked it to the far corner of the room, checking that Dean had the intruder secured before disappearing off in search of anyone else as Dean had previously ordered. The last thing they needed was a surprise attack half way though an interrogation. However, the second Sam left the room the girl's arm came back down with speed, expertly striking Dean's ribs with her elbow with sufficient force for him to loosen his grip on her slim waist.
"Bitch!" Dean breathed, forcing a gulp of air into his now winded lungs.
Quick thinking prevailed as Dean shot his leg out in time to bring the girl, who was now about to make a hurried escape, down to the floor with a thump. Cracking her head on the floor with unexpected force caused her to pause, and left Dean with a moment to notice the trickle of blood running slowly down her forehead. He shoved her onto her back, straddling her and managing to pin her down with his weight. She swore at the heavy 27 year old who was now crushing her petite form but his hand shot up to cover her mouth.
"Tut tut! That language is hardly appropriate for a young woman like you." He smirked as he looked down to grab his gun. It was Dean who let out a yell next as the red-haired girl sunk her teeth into his hand, deep enough to draw blood. In a swift instinctual reaction, his now clenched fist collided with her cheek bone.
"My bite's worse...than my bark..." She smirked back, staring Dean straight in his sea-green eyes.
This remark gained her another punch, harder than the first, and she let out yet another curse. He moved just enough to get onto one knee, readying himself to stand up. He still had her pinned with one knee and his arm, or so he thought he had until she burst into life, sweeping his leg and causing him to crash to the floor. Springing up with new found energy, she kicked him hard in the ribs, winding him before pulling out a blade form her belt and backing towards the door. She backed straight into Sam, who dropped the rope he now held (he'd also been looking for something to secure her with, thinking Dean had the intruder restrained) and grabbed her shoulder.
He'd already caught a glimpse of the knife she was holding and just as she began to turn to strike him with the sharpened blade he grabbed the back of her hair. Sam had the strength advantage now and with a thunderous smack he rammed her head into the door frame. The knife fell from her now limp hand and Sam took care in easing her unconscious form to the floor.
"You ok?" he asked, straightening to look at his brother who seemed to be holding his ribs.
"Yeah, I'm good." he replied, casually dismissing his brother's enquiry.
"Course you are. If I hadn't come in and saved you're ass then-" Sam began sarcastically before being cut off by Bobby rushing to the door.
"What the HELL is going on here?" He yelled.
He'd arrived only moments previously and had heard the commotion coming from inside his home. Once inside, he spied the lifeless body curled on the bare floorboards, the blood running down her forehead and her lips, as well as the bruise already forming on her cheek.
The boys began to speak at once, giving rushed explanations as though they were only children, explaining to a parent how something got broken but it wasn't their fault.
Bobby took a long hard look at the crumpled girl on the floor and then to the gun Sam had retrieved from the corner of the room. He recognised the gun immediately, how could he not? He'd been the only to buy it, the one to engrave it with carefully designed initials. As realisation dawned on him, his eyes grew wide in shock.
"Abigail." he breathed.
"Who? You know her?" Dean asked, looking at Sam just as wide-eyed as Bobby.
"Know her? She practically grew up here! What the hell do you think you're doing boy? You treat all your old friends like this?" He shouted, mainly directing his fury towards Dean, who was still looking clueless.
"Erm...Bobby. I don't know any kids who used to live here. I didn't even know you had a chick live here."
"Just get her onto the couch. You idiot." He dismissed Dean's previous comment, shaking his head.
Dean did as he was asked and laid her body on the couch, waiting for an explanation from Bobby. Abigail. That's what Bobby had called her. Abigail.
"Bobby, who is she?" Sam asked, leaning against the small wooden desk, arms crossed.
"You two honestly don't know?"
Shrugs and raised eyebrows from the pair signaled they really had no recollection of the girl.
"She lived here from time to time when she was a youngster. Found her in a burning house back in '87. Poor thing, her parents died. A bunch of demon attacks. She should have gone over to her other family, only she didn't have none. All killed in the attacks. Every last one. She stayed here, hell I don't know why, but i guess i thought it'd be better all round. Turned out to be a real good hunter." Bobby explained, eyeing Dean as though he was meant to realise something, something secret from Sam who clearly wasn't being addressed in this conversation.
"But how come she was here, just out of the blue?"
"No idea, I haven't seen her in...must be nearly 8 years. You kids though, when John used to leave you here for the week back when Sam here was still in diapers, you wouldn't be apart for 2 damn minutes. And when she hit 14, you really had a soft spot for her." He winked at Dean who had that look as though an invisible light bulb had just turned on over his head. It had finally clicked.
"Abigail." he smiled to himself. A smile that soon faded when he glanced over to Abigail's still body curled on the couch and remembered why they'd not spoke since they were teenagers. The reason why he'd forced himself to forget that strange, yet beautiful friend he used to think he knew so well.