A/N: Once again, thank you for all of the support! I'm actually a bit surprised at how y'all have been receiving this story. Needless to say, I'm ecstatic. Thanks for everything!
Screaming. Crying. Wailing. Flailing. Grunting. Groaning. Twitching. Itching. White eyes. Black eyes.
Screaming.
Screaming.
Screaming!
"Sam!" she gasped, jolting into consciousness and bumping her head on a hard object. She hissed and groaned at the sudden pain on her forehead and inside her head. A headache ripped and roared in her skull.
Frankie sat up with her head in her hands. She opened her eyes and glared around for whatever had hit her when she woke up.
And that was when she noticed that she was in a car.
She didn't panic. It wasn't moving, and she didn't think it would be going anywhere anytime soon. She shifted in the backseat, looking to the driver's side to find no steering wheel present. She sighed, relieved. She must be in one of Bobby's gutted Junker cars.
However, as relieved as she was at not being in a moving car driven by some unknown kidnapper, she was rifling through her brain trying to remember how she ended up in a broken down vehicle. She scoured the inside of the car to see if any dent or scratch could trigger her memory. Nothing came up.
She tried retracing her steps. What was the last thing she remembered before going to sleep? She remembered Sam, obviously. That nightmare wasn't just a nightmare. She remembered running out of the house until she fell and started crying. Not a great memory. Then she remembered speaking out to someone or something… who was it? Ah, that's right. God. She prayed to God. She didn't think it would work, but she tried anyway.
Things were a bit fuzzy after that. She swore that something happened, but she couldn't seem to see passed praying helplessly to the sky. She took a deep breath to clear her thoughts. She looked through the glassless window where daylight was shining through the dust. It was bright out, noon most likely. Maybe a little after. How long had she been out? What happened to her last night?
When she breathed in, something – dust perhaps – flew into her nose, causing her to violently sneeze. It gave her head a particularly painful throb in response. Annoyed at the car for having dust, she shuffled across the backseat and opened the door with an ungodly screeched from the unoiled hinges. She stepped out into the fresh air where she was greeted with a chilly breeze. She grasped and rubbed her arms. She was freezing. Above her head, she heard the cry of a hawk and looked up in time to see it fly passed her.
Fluttering.
Frankie's eyes widened when a memory from the night before filled her mind. She remembered hearing a bird fly above her just like the hawk had. But… was it really a bird? Granted, the fluttering wings sounded way too big for any hawk flying that close. And when she had turned around she saw…
"Castiel," she whispered. She inhaled a deep breath when she remembered every moment, every tiny detail, before it was lights out. Castiel walked up to her and told her not to speak of him being there. Then he had touched her forehead, and that was the last of her consciousness.
He put her to sleep? He put her in the car? The hell was his problem? Why go through that trouble? And for what?! Frankie was overwhelmed with confusion and frustration at the angel. She had prayed for a guardian angel, someone to help out in the tough moments she and the others were going through, but what she got was a guy with a stern look that Vulcan nerve pinched her forehead and shoved her into a car that nearly gave her asthma.
She looked back at the old rust bucket. Narrowing her brows, she channeled the stress and confusion she was feeling towards Castiel into a hard kick to the side of the car. "Damn angel," she grumbled.
All of a sudden, the sounds of an engine hit her ears. She snapped her eyes over to the car she had just assaulted. Did… did she just Fonzie the car with her foot? That proved to not be the case, though, when the sound of a truck engine rumbled far behind her out of the maze of cars. She whipped her head around. That must be the direction of the house.
She gave her chilly arms another set of rubs as she made her way to the truck. Just when she got to the exit of the piles of junkyard cars, the engine cut off and she saw the image of Bobby's house.
"No. Yes, I checked. No dice." Frankie darted her eyes towards the sound of Bobby's voice. He hopped out of his truck and shut the door with a soft slam. He sounded frustrated. "I went up and down three times, Dean. If she was on the road she's not there now." By the sound of it, he must have been looking for her. "I know it'll be dark soon. Why else ya think I'm so damn jazzed, ya idgit?" he snapped.
Frankie realized that she shouldn't just stand there while Bobby fretted over the phone with Dean about her whereabouts. She pushed forward, walking towards the man. The sound of her feet – shoeless feet no less; it was a wonder how she wasn't sick yet – shuffling the gravel caught the man's attention.
"Fer Pete's sake!" he snapped, turning on his heels and marching towards the girl. Frankie was worried that he was pissed at her by the sound of his voice and the vigor in his step. "I found her. Call ya back," he spoke into his cellphone before shoving it in his pocket. "The hell you run off to? We've been lookin' for ya fer hours!"
Frankie was speechless. It wasn't like she didn't have an answer for him. She just didn't have the energy to put up a force against his apparent anger at her. With the emotional rollercoaster that was the night before mixed with the cold drawing out her strength, she didn't have much to work with.
She must have been visibly shivering, because Bobby placed the back of his knuckles against the bare skin on her arm. "Yer a damn block of ice, kid. Get inside." This time he spoke much softer, which eased the anxiety in Frankie. He placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her inside the house.
He motioned for her to sit on the couch. Frankie complied without a word. He draped his blanket over her shoulders. She received it by clutching the edges and tucking them around her. Bobby disappeared upstairs for only a minute or two before he came back down with a heavy quilt, which he dropped on her shoulders. It was an unneeded weight, but it was warm.
Bobby's next mode of action was to light a fire in the fireplace behind the desk. The moment the flames formed in the pit, Frankie felt the heat on her face. She smiled gratefully up at the man.
Now done preparing her a warm space to settle, Bobby's face took a stern turn. Frankie knew she was about to be reprimanded. "Now that yer all cozy," he began, sitting himself down in the desk chair, "mind sharin' where you ran off to last night?" Frankie shifted wordlessly in the blankets for a few quiet moments before Bobby let out a sigh and tried again. "Look, I ain't mad at ya. I know why you ran. You don't need to explain that." Frankie raised her eyes to see that Bobby's were downcast, pointing to the floor. "Seein' Sam like that… I get why ya did it." His eyes then flicked back up to her. "What I just wanna know is where you were all day."
Frankie's gaze lingered on the man before shifting to look out the window. How long had Castiel made her sleep? Aside from that fact, Frankie wondered just how much she should tell him. Castiel just told her to keep silent about his presence there, not that he had placed her in a damn car. And aside from that fact, she wondered why Castiel would order her silence anyway. Why would he entrust her with keeping his secret? He didn't know her.
Or… did he? That lingering look he gave her at the warehouse still bugged her.
She darted her eyes back over to Bobby when she realized that he was sitting back and waiting for her to speak. He hadn't let up on the question. "The cars," she finally answered. "I ran out into the cars and stayed there."
"You can do better than that," the older man brusquely muttered, crossing his arms. Frankie sent him a confused and indignant gaze. "That was the first place we looked. We checked four or five times. You weren't out there."
Frankie adjusted the quilt on her shoulders so it wouldn't slide off. "I spent the night in one of the cars. The blue Cadillac in that direction. Late 80s, I think."
Bobby looked out the window in the direction in which she had gestured. It seemed as though he knew which one she was referring to even though it was nowhere in the viewing vicinity. When his eyes returned to her, they had the tiniest hint of approval in them as he sat back in the chair. "'87. You know yer stuff."
Frankie gave a half shrug. "Had a babysitter when I was a kid in Bama. He was a mechanic. Talkative." Bobby snorted and nodded, looking as if he knew the type.
"Explains why yer shakin' like a hooker in church. Th' hell were you doin' sleepin' in there anyway?"
This was where Frankie's mind went blank. How could she explain sleeping in the back of an old car in a believable way? With a clenched heart at the memory, Frankie settled on the reason she ran in the first place.
"I couldn't go back inside after that. What I saw was…," she trailed off. She didn't need to say the word. Bobby understood. "So when I got tired I just crawled into the nearest car and curled up. It didn't take much to fall asleep. I was tired to begin with."
It seemed good enough for Bobby. He didn't question her any further on her choice of a bed, leaving them to sit in mild silence.
And then Frankie's ears finally caught up to her.
"It's quiet," she noted aloud. She glanced up to Bobby, slight hope in her eyes. "Did Sam finally stop yelling?"
Bobby didn't need to say a single word for Frankie to figure out that something was amiss. His face alone spelled out that something was terribly wrong. "Sam…," he sighed while looking down at his crossed arms, a look passing his eyes that resembled guilt, "… is gone."
Frankie froze, her shivering from the cold long gone and replaced with stunned rigidness. "What?" she breathed out, hoping that she heard him wrong. He nodded.
"He escaped last night. Wasn't too long after we stopped lookin' for you before restin' on it." Frankie's eyes slowly lowered to the floor. No, he couldn't have. "Don't know how the hell he did it. We strapped him down. We cuffed him to the bed. Only thing we could think of was he had help from his demon buddy, but even then she couldn't-"
"Woah, woah, hold up," Frankie blurted, waving a hand for him to stop. "Sam… is friends with a demon?"
"Yep. You'd think we taught him nothing," the man sighed. "Her name's Ruby, or so she says. Can't trust the bitch for a second."
Ruby. Another name dropped by her brothers in the Impala. That explains the awkward silence after Dean mentioned her.
Frankie shook her head. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. After everything Sam said about protecting her from demons, keeping her away from them, now he's best friends with one? What else was wrong with him?!
She blew air out of her mouth as she leaned forward, holding her head in her hands. "What's happening?"
"You got me. Things are going up in flames fast. Sam's gone rogue, Dean's off to find him, no one knows how many seals are left, all of Hell's about to break loose. Literally." Frankie shut her eyes as a hefty sigh slithered out of her nose. "No doubt th' red carpet's being rolled out for the Devil as we speak."
"Jesus Christ," Frankie mumbled, bringing her linked hands to her mouth.
"Yep. Really could use him right about now."
Frankie stewed in the fear of the impending apocalypse for a few moments before getting her mind reeling for ideas. "What about Lilith? We can still kill her, right? That should stop it?"
The shake of Bobby's head was not reassuring. "Sam's gone AWOL and Dean's off lookin' for him with the knife. As far as we know, they're the only two who can off her." Frankie snapped her eyes down to her bag not two feet from Bobby. "But Dean's the only one who should." Frankie tilted her head in confusion.
"What do you mean?"
Bobby pressed his lips together, giving his beard a scratch. "You were takin' a breather when he told me… but while we were researchin' and organizin' yesterday, Dean signed away his freedom to be Heaven's call boy."
Frankie was taken aback by the news. She knew she should have gone into the house sooner to see what they were arguing about. "He did what?"
Bobby nodded. "The angels think he should be the one to kill Lilith, not Sam. If Sam tries to get strong enough to kill her, then…"
Frankie leaned closer to the man after he stopped speaking for a few seconds. "What?" she asked, worry coating her voice. As frustrated as she was about Sam escaping instead of getting better as well as him being friends with a demon, she worried a great deal about him. If anything were to happen to him, well… Frankie couldn't afford to lose another relative, no matter how long she had known him. "What'll happen to him, Bobby?"
The man lifted his hat off of his head to scratch his scalp. "He needs to drink gallons of demon blood to be anywhere close to bein' strong enough to kill Lilith, and if he does that… it would change him forever. He'd become a-"
"Demon?" Frankie finished for him. Her voice cracked with fear at the thought of her brother becoming something that could kill her in unspeakable ways.
Bobby took a moment to sigh and lower his head. "More or less."
Frankie could feel her heart picking up its pace in her chest. She had only just met her brother and now she was being told this. She thought back to the first time she met Sam. He seemed so nice, so normal. She would have never thought in a million years that he was harboring a severe demon blood addiction and was on the verge of becoming the very thing he swore to kill.
She wondered how things would have changed had she known that beforehand. She would have never agreed to meet him. She would have never met Dean or Bobby. She would have never known about the true existence of monsters or that demons and angels were actually real. She wouldn't have had a clear hunch that God was still around. She wouldn't have known about her family's hunting business and she would never have had to worry about the very things she was fretting over now.
But here she was, on Bobby's couch being told that Sam was on the verge of becoming a monster. And if she dug real deep inside herself and gave it a thought or two, she wouldn't have it any other way. Knowing now what she did, she had the chance to step up and help him. It wasn't like she actually stood a chance, but she was sitting on that couch, alive and available to help. The apocalypse was pounding on the back door. There were no more excuses. She was tired of being told to sit on the sidelines. She was tired of having emotions.
It was time to step up and be a hunter.
"Well I guess we better get out there and bring him back."
Bobby grunted as he hoisted himself out of his chair. "That's what Dean is off to do."
"Then let's get in a car and go help him," she advised with a nod.
"Not a good idea. Our job is to stay put and rustle up anything on the seals."
"Fuck the seals," Frankie bit. Bobby snapped his head over to the girl, surprised at her outburst. "Lucifer's most likely gunna break free anyway. Like you said, all of Hell is about to break loose. Right now, we need to worry about Sam."
"What do you think I'm doin'?"
"Dean can't go alone. You said Sam has a pet demon in his pocket. If he's as crazy as he was in the panic room, then he's not gunna go easy. Dean really doesn't need to tackle both Sam and a demon at the same time."
"You think I don't know that? I know it's not gunna be a pretty fight, but if anyone stands a chance of gettin' through to Sam it's Dean. We'll only make it worse."
"How is having backup worse?"
"It's worse when only one person is capable of providin' that backup!"
"Bobby, you're not even trying!" Frankie shouted, standing from the couch. The blanket and quilt fell to the floor behind her. "Their lives could be in jeopardy!"
"Their lives are always in jeopardy. That's called bein' a hunter!"
Frankie clenched her jaw at his harsh tone, but she didn't buckle. She put on a serious face of her own as she held her ground. "Then I guess I've got a lot of catching up to do."
She turned away from the confused expression that infiltrated his face and sat back on the couch to shove on her shoes. "What th' hell does that mean?" Bobby asked as he watched her get up and grab her denim jacket. "Where're you goin' now?"
"I'm going for a walk," the girl grumbled as she walked through the kitchen, heading for the back door.
"Oh no yer not. I just found ya. Yer not runnin' off again." She stopped in the threshold of the back door. Before she walked out, she turned to shoot him a challenging look.
"I'm not gunna be under house arrest while Lucifer is on the verge of being set loose." She turned and walked through the door, shutting it firmly behind her without another word from Bobby.
It began to drizzle outside, but Frankie was sheltered by the looming trees above her. She decided to take a long walk through the woods behind Bobby's house so she could clear her head and think about her next move. If she was going to step up and be the hunter she knew she could be, she needed to start thinking ahead instead of in the moment.
'Okay,' she thought as she kicked a rock down the path. 'Lucifer's about to be freed, Sam is slowly deteriorating, and Dean is gone. What am I gunna do now?' The only thing she saw was Sam's eyes rolling in the back of his skull. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to push the image away. 'What am I gunna do…,' she thought again.
She saw Dean's stunned face with a bullet hole in his forehead. She shook her head and opened her eyes to watch her feet kick rocks and sticks. 'Dammit, just think of a plan already!'
Walking and thinking wasn't working. She had too many thoughts roaming in her mind. She needed some space to relax and think. If she didn't work out a proper plan soon, she would be left behind when the battle for Earth came knocking on Bobby's door.
Frankie lifted her eyes from the dirt below her. She spotted a creek up the path and headed over to it. It was calmly flowing, the water gliding over the rocks like a sheet. She could see a few fish swimming together in small clumps. It seemed peaceful enough. She looked around for a place to sit and found a moss covered rock just out of reach of the water.
Frankie sat on top of it. She tucked her feet underneath her legs and closed her eyes, breathing in and out several times to clear whatever she could of her mind. It seemed like it was working enough. The water relaxed her, and the birds chirping in the distant created a soothing mood. The rich smell of the plants and lichen around her helped to ease the distress pulsating through her subconscious.
'Alright. Don't think about Sam or Dean. Don't think about Castiel. Don't think about Lucifer. Let's just think about what we need to do to be a proper hunter.' She paused her thoughts to let out a long breath. 'Okay. Demons are the biggest problem we're facing right now. What do I know about demons? Well, they don't like salt and they don't like Holy Water. How the hell am I gunna get my hands on some Holy Water…? Okay, what else? Uh… oh! Christo. Gotta remember that one. And what else can hurt them? Well, I guess… my machete.'
Frankie momentarily opened her eyes at the thought of her mother's weapon. It still confounded her how such a nonviolent woman could possess something like a blade of that stature. A simple knife would do. Maybe even a baseball bat would suffice, but her mother chose a machete.
She didn't think it to be true, but Frankie wondered if there was more to her mother than she initially thought.
She closed her eyes again to delve back into a thoughtful state. 'Okay. So I gotta work on my blade handling skills and my strength. Can't end up like I did with those other demons. Maybe I could sign up for a gym membership or something.'
A gust of wind blew through the trees, giving Frankie a chill. She glanced up to the swaying branches above her. When she turned her head to go back to meditating, a particular branch caught her eye. It was just the right height from the ground for her to grab, but was high enough so that her feet wouldn't touch the forest floor if she hung from it.
Her mind reeled for a few moments, thinking over an idea that came to her. She needed to work out, but she really didn't want to have to pay for a gym membership. Therefore, she'd use God's gym.
Satisfied with the idea, Frankie hopped off of the rock and walked over to the tree branch. She observed it. It seemed stable. With a grab and a shake, she found that it was sturdy enough to hold her, or at least she hoped. She took a moment to let out a few readying breath and swung her arms around to make sure they were loose enough. She threw in a few stretches, too. Can't be too careful when working out. She crouched down to jump and leaped up to grab hold of the branch.
The bark scraped and pinched the soft palms of her hands, causing her to let go and plummet to the ground with a small squeal from the shocked girl.
She sat on the ground in a daze, blinking and thinking over what had just happened. She raised an annoyed scowl up to the tall tree. "Ow!" she shouted at it. She rubbed her hands together. Curse her un-calloused skin!
She lifted herself off of the ground, dusting off her pants. She sent a challenging glower up to the branch. 'So that's how you wanna play, huh?' she thought. She clapped her hands together before jumping and grabbing it once again, this time preparing for the pins and needles in her hands. She clenched her teeth against a particular piece of bark diggin into her palm.
Her body swung for a few moments before she was left hanging off of the branch. Her arms were already aching from supporting her weight. She looked ahead, puffing out a few breaths to ready herself. With a sharp inhale, she flexed her arms to pull herself up.
"Goddammit!" she groaned through clenched teeth. She wasn't moving. She was pulling and pulling, but she wasn't getting any closer to the branch. 'This was so much easier in middle school!'
Finally, she let go, dropping to the ground in defeat. "Nuh uh," she panted, lifting her gaze up to the fiendish branch. "I ain't giving up on you." After taking a minute to catch her breath, she did a few more stretches. She rolled her arms to loosen up her shoulders and touched her toes, working to stretch out her back, too. She needed to do this. She had to do at least one pullup.
After deeming herself fully loosened and stretched, she narrowed her eyes on the branch and grabbed it once more. This time, she tried to use her swinging to her advantage and rocked her body back and forth to try and get use the momentum. It wasn't working too well. Beginning to feel defeat crawling on the back of her neck, she wildly flailed her legs, kicking them frantically in the air, and let out a series of struggled growls.
She changed the position of her hands and tried that. It didn't help much either. She brought her knees up to her stomach, but that made things tougher. She wouldn't give up, though. She was stubborn. She stopped flexing and relaxed her arms, letting her body hang freely on the branch.
She sighed and lowered her head. Man, she was weak. She was sure that Sam and Dean could have done a set of a hundred by then.
Sam and Dean. Apex hunters. The class standard. She had to be as good as her brothers. If she wasn't, she wouldn't survive, and she needed to survive. If she was going to do this, she needed to be resilient. She couldn't give up.
She tried again. She pulled and rocked and growled. She relaxed again, and then tried it once more. And then she relaxed. And then she tried it again. She kept repeating her actions until her previously sprained wrist began to ache with each pull. Soon, it burned with pain. She knew she was screwing it up in more ways than one, but she wasn't giving up.
She let out a wild growl that turned into a snarl. As the roar ripped through her throat, she began to get a little higher, the branch began to get a little closer, and her wrist began to hurt even more. Her voice resembled more of a scream by the time her arms bent halfway. Her forehead had just barely reached the branch when her wrist gave a small pop, sending her entire body plunging to the unforgiving ground below.
She lay there in the dirt, defeated by a bum wrist. Her eyes fluttered closed. Of course she couldn't do one pullup. She really shouldn't have expected to after years of sitting around and not exercising. That only meant that she would have to work harder.
She sat up, idly rubbing her wrist. Her eyes lifted up to her enemy, the branch. She wouldn't let it get the best of her. Sure, it won this battle, but there would be more battles and she'd be damned if she didn't prevail. She just needed to get smarter, bulk up, and take things slowly, even if the entire world around her was moving too fast.
Frankie made the trek back to the house. She stopped every half mile to clear her mind of intrusive thoughts and to think about her undeveloped game plan. When she finally reached Bobby's house, it had stopped drizzling. Her clothes were cold and damp, but Frankie pushed passed the negative feelings, especially when she walked into the warm house.
She immediately headed for the freezer. She took out an icepack and a cloth from a drawer, placing on her stinging wrist. Granted, it didn't hurt nearly as bad as a few days ago, but she didn't want to take any chances of it swelling up again.
It didn't take long at all for Bobby to appear in the kitchen. When he laid his eyes on Frankie, he wore an expression of relief. As far as she could tell, he didn't look aggravated anymore. They both had taken time to cool off.
At first they didn't say anything, though Bobby sure did want to speak up. He looked as if he were trying to find the right words to say after the lightly heated conversation they had earlier, but he eventually found something to say.
"Gunna make a trip to the store, figure somethin' out fer dinner. Yer welcome to come if you want." Frankie was relieved that they wouldn't have to continue where they left off. Before she could answer him, though, he finally spotted the icepack on her wrist. "You get hurt?"
"No," she immediately answered. "Just stung a bit. I didn't want it to start swelling, so… I'd love to go into town. It'd be nice to get out of the house for a bit."
Though suspicious about her suddenly hurting wrist, he gave an agreeing nod and turned to fetch his keys. "Why don't ya change out of those clothes. I don't want ya gettin' sick."
"Yeah, I don't either," Frankie muttered back with a light chuckle following her response. She followed Bobby out of the kitchen and into the living room. The man told her that he would be waiting for her outside by his truck when she finished.
Frankie went upstairs to toss her bag into the guest room. No matter what Dean said in regard to who got the guest room, she would be using it that night. She changed into a blue plaid button up shirt and dry jeans. She swapped out her filthy socks for some dry, clean ones, but she could still feel the dampness from her only pair of shoes through them. Finishing up her change by tugging on her denim jacket, she zipped up her bag and headed outside to meet Bobby.
She sent a half smile his way and he returned it as he rounded his truck. Frankie hoisted herself inside the truck as he settled behind the wheel and turned the ignition. In no time, they were off to town, leaving the looming negativity of the house behind them.
For the most part, the drive was quiet. The only sound that filled the air was the low rumble of the truck and the passing cars down the highway. Frankie didn't register the quietness, though. She gazed outside the window, watching the world pass by.
All that she saw, all that was around them would be overrun with demons under Lucifer's control. All the people that drove passed in their cars, all the families enjoying themselves in the parks, every animal that carried on their normal everyday lives would be in direct danger. But Frankie wondered, would any of them be aware that the apocalypse was going on? Would any of them know that Lucifer was freed or that demons were stalking in the shadows?
If she had never pursued John, she would be among those people. She would be a civilian. She could even have been the vessel for a demon. The thought gave her goosebumps. An evil thing controlling her body, killing people, torturing others, and working to bring Hell on Earth… she couldn't imagine a worse existence. It made her own life seem like paradise.
"How you holdin' up?" Bobby asked. Frankie didn't break her gaze from the window as she spurted out the simplest answer she could.
"Fine." Frankie didn't care if it was a lie. As long as she didn't have to go back down that emotional road, she would be content.
"Kid."
She wanted to stay glued to the window, but the firm tone in Bobby's voice pulled her from the glass. She turned her head over to see him looking over to her, seriousness shrouding his eyes.
"How are you really holdin' up?" he asked again. Frankie looked back at him blankly. What was she supposed to tell him? She was freaked out by Armageddon and was still trying to process it while also struggling with her brothers and whether or not she was really cut out to work beside them in the field? No, simply saying she was fine was much easier.
"Look," the man continued, huffing out a sigh as he looked back at the road. "I'm sorry you had to see Sam like that." Frankie internally winced at the memory. "I wish you could still see him as a normal human with normal human problems. We tried keepin' you away from all this, but-"
"I get it," Frankie blurted, voice just a little louder than his own to carry her message. "Bobby, I get it," her volume lowering when she had his attention. "I asked for this. I kept pushing for this. Knowing what I do now is my own fault. Anything I feel over the apocalypse or Sam or demons is my fault. I'd just like to deal with it on my own and look ahead if that's okay."
Bobby was quiet for a moment. Frankie could see that he was glancing over at her in the corner of her eye. "Yeah, that's okay," he finally said, his voice low and careful. "Everyone's got their own way of dealin' with this kind of stuff. But lettin' it fester can have some real bad effects on people." The air went still and awkward. Frankie knew what he was insinuating, but she really didn't want to have a sit down with him and talk about her feelings. That was the last thing she needed. Whether it would help her or not, it would only make herself look weak in their eyes. "I guess what I'm sayin' is that… if you need someone to listen, I'm one of the few people on Earth who will understand."
"I'm fine, Bobby," she clipped. She hadn't meant for her voice to be as touchy as it was, but it got her attitude on the subject across pretty well. It took the man a few long moments to decide that pushing the conversation any further wouldn't result favorably.
"Okay, then," he understandingly uttered with a nod of his head. Frankie knew that he was only making his voice sound okay with leaving the conversation there. She knew that he was worried about how she was dealing with everything she had gone through. And honestly… she was a little worried about it herself.
They reached town. Bobby parked the truck in front of a small grocery store among a collection of other small shops. When they exited the truck, Frankie intended to follow Bobby right into the grocery store, but another store caught her eye.
Across the street was a small bookstore. A small need to head inside of it grew in Frankie's chest. If there was one place that brought her peace, it was an establishment filled with books, and she needed some damn peace.
"Hey, kid," Bobby called from in front of the grocery store. The girl whipped her head around to him. When she saw him, the peace fled from her. Even though he wasn't the cause of it, he represented the negativity that she had just been through in the past twenty-four hours. She pressed her lips together as she walked up to him.
"Yeah, uh… I was actually thinking of going across the street to that store over there." She pointed behind her at the bookstore. "I've been in the market for some new reads."
"Really?" Bobby said, disbelieving, "I've got lots of books back at my place, y'know. Yer free to read 'em. Well… some."
Frankie faked a smile. "To be honest, Bobby," she began, her pleasant voice just as fake as her smile, "I'd rather not be reminded of the creatures who may wanna rip off my skin for bedroom curtains."
Bobby inhaled a long breath with an understanding expression. "Yeah, you got a point there," he exhaled.
"I just kinda want a… normal story, y'know? So, I'm gunna head over there, okay?"
Bobby nodded his head, a vague suspicion hiding behind his eyes. "Alright. You want anythin'?" he asked while motioning his head towards the store.
'Soda and Skittles,' her mind immediately said. She quickly hushed the voice, though. 'No. We need healthy stuff now. If we're gunna fight against demons, we don't need caffeine and rainbow sugar coursing through our veins.'
"Just some bottled water is fine. Oh, and maybe some cereal bars. Please."
Bobby gave another nod, and then Frankie was off. She headed towards the store and looked both ways before crossing the street. She had been walking a little faster than she normally did. She couldn't get to the bookstore faster. In her eyes, the faster she got inside, the faster she felt a little relief from the weight of the chaos around her.
When she walked through the door of the shop, she was immediately hit with the familiar smell of books old and new. Her eyes shut in bliss. She loved that smell.
"Evening, ma'am," a young man chimed from the register.
"Evening," she greeted back was a smile, this one not so forced.
"Can I help you find anything today?"
Frankie shook her head as she already headed for the isles of books. "Not today. Another time, maybe, but today I'm just browsing."
"Of course," he idly answered before going back to his own business.
Frankie took her sweet time with examining each rack, each novel. Just as she predicted, she felt calm among the plastic covers and fresh pages, just as much as she was among the old editions. In there, the apocalypse didn't bother her nearly as much as outside. Inside the store, things were simple. Books were books, and she was a bookworm. Nothing more to it.
She walked through the romance section, the historical fiction area, the sci-fi aisle, but she chose to overlook the horror genre. Well, at least she did at first, but she couldn't deny the call to examine at least one section of the aisle. She looked over any book that didn't have the words "angel" or "demon" on it. There was one book, however, that particularly caught her eye.
She picked up a copy of a book titled Supernatural by Carver Edlund. There was a particular reason that she picked up that book and it was because it looked like it belonged more in the romance department. The cover depicted two hulking men, one shirtless and looking an awful lot like Fabio. She shook her head and placed it back on the shelf. She didn't need a tale of two muscular dudes with guns dealing with the supernatural. She had enough of that already.
She kept looking through the store. Nothing really caught her eye. Nothing made her want to stay up to all hours of the night just for one more chapter. That is until she reached a very different section of the store.
She rounded the aisle into the hobbies and skills section. It at first was nothing special, but a book with a cover showing a man in camo holding a knife drew her closer. She walked over to that part of the shelf. Looking at a few surrounding books, she came to the conclusion that they were all about hunting.
'Huh,' she said in her mind. 'That kinda appeals to me.'
She gazed at the books while crossing her arms. The section was the first that made her consider a purchase. She'll admit it – she didn't know what she was getting into. She may know a thing or two about monsters and demons, but she didn't know the first thing about how to fire a gun or handle a knife. There was much more to it than pulling a trigger or swinging around a blade.
She picked out a book that gave enough info on how to defend with blades of every size – perfect for her machete – and one about the how-to of firing a wide variety of guns. She walked down the aisle to find that it split into another genre. The second half was all about health and fitness.
'Whuduya know. That appeals to me, too.'
She was at first a little disappointed. Most of it was about having a healthy diet. Leafing Behind an Unhealthy Life: A Beginner's Guide to Kale Recipes, Putting Down the Fork, Picking Up the Pace: 100 Ways to Work Your Cardio, and The Quinoa Bible were a few notable examples. She wasn't one to roll her eyes at an entire genre of literature, but the past week was all about firsts.
It wasn't until she reached the end of the aisle that she found something actually useful. She spotted a book that was all about working out for the people who couldn't afford constant trips to the gym. Flipping through a few pages, she was met with a few tips that could be converted for use out in the woods, away from Bobby and Dean who would immediately pick up on the fact that she was conditioning for the apocalypse.
She grabbed it and headed to the checkout. The young man greeted her with a smile. "Find everything okay, ma'am?"
Frankie chuckled quietly to herself. "A little too well, if you ask some."
The man ignored the vague response and continued on with his work. As he did so, Frankie examined the contents of the counter. On it was a small display of cheap journals for a few dollars. Frankie looked at one with a sunrise on the cover. The sky was orange on the horizon, but a pale blue above the bright star peaking over the mountains. A faint, content smile sprouted on Frankie's face. There was something about a sunrise that filled her with a positive energy, a hope. She took it off of the display and placed it on the counter beside the others.
"You're a fresh face," the cashier noted aloud. Frankie lifted her gaze up to the stranger scanning her books. "New in town?"
Frankie took in a deep breath and let it out with a nod. "Relatively. I've been here almost a week."
"Just visiting?"
Frankie hesitated before answering with a light sigh. "Hopefully not."
The man didn't respond further to that comment either. He was a good conversationalist. He did, however, comment on her choices of books as he bagged them. "Trying out your hunter's legs?"
"Oh, you have no idea," Frankie deadpanned. It got an ignorant chuckle out of the man.
"Hey, you can learn a lot as a hunter. It's a rewarding hobby."
Frankie nodded with the man. She looked off to the side when she thought about the hunters she knew. "Some I know would think of it more as a job."
The cashier sent Frankie an agreeing smirk. "I like the way your people think."
Frankie nearly went to say something, but she could tell that it would have some pettiness in it. She didn't want to give the effort. The cashier gave her the amount and she paid it with her card. If she had known that she'd find books that would be helpful to her in her current predicament, she would have brought more cash.
"Here you are," huffed the cashier as he handed her the bag of books. "Good luck with your hunting! I know you'll do great!"
Frankie stared at the man. She realized something about the young cashier wishing her luck. He was the only person on the planet who believed in her. Sure, he didn't know that she was planning on hunting ghosts and wendigo, but he did think she would make a great hunter, and that was close enough.
"Thank you," she said with grin. He nodded to her as she turned and exited the store with a newfound determination to do the stranger bookstore cashier proud.
The drive back to the house was wordless. Bobby could tell that Frankie wasn't in the mood to talk, so he decided to fill in the silence with the radio. Frankie on the other hand was spending the drive over looking out the window and thinking over her plan.
When they finally arrived back to the house, Frankie helped Bobby bring the groceries inside. After that, he was on his own. It wasn't like Frankie wanted nothing to do with Bobby. It was quite the opposite actually. She had been dying to cook with him again, but he had been so busy with researching the seals. This time, though, he insisted that she relax and read her new books, that he would cover dinner. Frankie was reluctant, but ultimately agreed.
So Frankie went to work. She broke out her books, opening up the knife book to the machete section. She opened her journal and got a pen off of the desk. She jotted down any information that seemed useful to her.
- Machetes are used for chopping and hacking
- The "bulge" is the area that carries the most force, lead with this
- When swinging, lead with the elbow and flick the wrist
She made a list of things to keep in mind for using a blade of her size. The book also told her that her machete was Bolo, around fourteen inches. It helped to know a little about the weapon you were using.
When she was finished scanning through her book on knives, she moved on to the fitness book. Around this time, the air was filled with the smell of Bobby's cooking. It made thinking healthy really difficult.
She flipped to a new page of her journal, having written a page's worth of machete tips, and began noting ways to turn the forest into her own person gym. She made a note to use variously sized rocks as medicine balls and using logs as dumbbells. The book also mentioned that hiking and running were ways to work cardio and strengthen leg muscles, two things that would have worked in her favor battling the demons.
Halfway through her notes for her outdoor gym, Bobby came into the study and set a TV tray down next her. She lifted her head up in time to see the man set her food down on the tray before walking back into the kitchen. She was confused. She was about to question why he wanted to isolate himself from her, but he shortly came back into the room to drop off his own plate on his desk.
He sat himself down and took a few bites out of his food before delving back into his research. Frankie was relieved. She knew she had been standoffish, but she hoped she wasn't coming off as too bitchy. Bobby's decision to eat together while doing their own individual studying let her know that he wasn't going to push her for a conversation or an obligation to talk about how bad things were, and instead just wanted to get back to work.
Frankie gave a small sigh in relief before eating some of the meal and continuing her studying.
Frankie woke up to a furious beeping from below her. She groaned, tired and annoyed as she reached over to the nightstand to look for the alarm clock. She felt a lamp, her phone, and her journal before finally feeling the noisy clock. She gave it a hard smack and turned off the terrible sound.
She growled at her drowsy state as she lifted her head to look out the window. Dark. The sun had yet to wake up. She puffed out a breath of air, blowing the strands of hair curtaining her face.
She had to get used to waking up early now. If she was going to get anywhere with her training, she had to wake up before the sky did. She angrily pushed herself to sit up on the bed and throw off the covers. She swung her legs off the bed and onto the floor, rubbing her face to wake it up. It was hard. She wasn't much of a morning person.
She reluctantly stood up and turned on the lamp. She then snatched her bag and took out a tank top and jeans. After changing into her clothes, she headed into the bathroom to pull what little hair there as to work with up into a ponytail with her toothbrush in her mouth. One had to multitask these days.
With her hair up, however, Frankie had a full view of her ear. She froze when her eyes landed on it. It was uglier than the last time she saw it. It made her nauseous to stare at it the way she was and she considered covering it up, but she decided that everything would be solved if she just didn't look at it. Well, that was the momentary solution anyway.
Once her hygiene was taken care of, Frankie reached under the sink for the first aid kit and took out some bandages. She began wrapping her hand and wrist into a compress to avoid any further injury to it while she trained.
With a shake of her head to wake herself up even more, she went to grab her stuff to head out and start her personal training, but she realized that she didn't have a proper bag to carry it all in. She didn't fret. There had to be some extra bags in the house. When she opened the guest room's closet, she found a worn backpack. It had frayed stitches and ripped fabric. Oh well. It was fine with Frankie.
She stuffed her journal, books, and machete into the bag before heading downstairs. When she reached the kitchen, she stopped and put a few bottles of water into her bag. She then took a page out of her journal and wrote a note for Bobby.
Went for a hike through the woods for a bit.
Be back for lunch.
~ Frankie
It was placed on the fridge by a magnet in full view for him when he woke up. After that, Frankie was heading out the door to begin her training as a hunter, grabbing a few cereal bars on her way out of course.