Thanks again to Alyssa Ray for helping me with this chapter :)

I swung the door open with such a force, I thought it would come off it's hinges. Marching inside, a large rifle slung over my bony right shoulder, my feet stomping with each step as I traveled up the stairs.

"I can't do it!" I whined.

Target practice, once again, was a major failure on my behalf. Yet again, my hands continuously shook and my posture was wrong. My brother was two steps behind me, he seemed to think otherwise.

"Yes you can, you just need to push yourself kid," he said. "Focusing is half the battle."

I spun around, pausing on the stairs. Even at eleven years old, I was critical about myself and my performances at anything. This evening and my current failure had but me into a bad mood.

"I can't fire a gun to save myself," I complained loudly "I'm a crap shot."

Not with this rifle anyway, it was nearly bigger than me. No wonder things kept going wrong.

"Practice makes perfect, baby girl," said Dean. "Just stay on top of your game."

Moodily I marched into my temporary bedroom, slamming the door behind me, expressing my annoyance. I paced up and down the room, mumbling angrily to myself, before flopping onto my front on the lumpy bed. I buried my face into the pillow. Dean followed close by.

"Can I come in?" he asked, to which I didn't respond.

I wasn't in the mood for this crap, more so being lectured by my big brother.

"Come on Chris, snap out of it," came his voice. "You think your gonna shoot once and be a perfect shot? You may have my blood kid, but you have a lot to learn. You'll get there, you just need to be patient. Come on, stop feeling sorry for yourself."

Tell that to my brain.

"Dad's been teaching me how to fire weapons for a year already," I mumbled moodily "And I still can't get it right."

Probably never will my brain sneered.

"We'll keep working at it, you can't have this attitude though, that's got to change," Dean added. "The attitude stinks Chris, and truth, it's only gonna hold you back."

Huh, that was nice to know. I lifted my head from the pillow and curled onto my side, facing his direction. My eyes filled with doubt and insecurity as I glared at him.

"I can't do it!" I screamed, getting up from the bed, my hands clenched into trembling fists. "Just forget it, I'm obviously not like you, what happened with Kira was a fluke."

I kicked the foot of the bed angrily, venting all my repressed emotions before slumping onto the bed again, my head hanging. The emotions continued to bubble and boil away.

"I just can't do it," I confessed sadly, burying my head in my hands as the emotions began to overwhelm me. "It's too hard. And…"

My brother sat down next to me, studying my sorrowful expression with his concerned gaze.

"And what Chris?" he questioned.

Tears filled my eyes, threatening to overflow and spill down my cheeks. That would be the last thing I would need, it would make me even weaker than I already was.

"And," I continued, my voice wavering. "I don't want to disappoint you, or Dad. I'm never gonna be good enough for either of you."

Like the stupid baby that I was, I began to cry, throwing myself into my brother's arms.

"It's okay, Chrissie, you can do this," Dean cooed as he rubbed my back. "You should have seen me my first few years. Besides training is much different from taking a few shots with Dad."

I continued to weep like some over-grown toddler.

"Dean, I just want to be good at something. I should be able to make those shots, but it's hard when you make me do them over and over," I sniffled. "Then you go all Mr. Drill Sergeant on my ass. Why do you do that? I try, but I just can't do anything right."

I gazed up at him, tears streaming down my face. I bet I looked pathetic, well I felt pathetic so it wouldn't surprise me.

"This is for real Chris, you need to be ready, prepared for anything," Dean reminded me. "You can do it, you just have to push yourself. It's my job to push you. You need to trust me and trust yourself."

I choked on several sobs as my head lagged forward.

"You're right," I whispered. "I just don't know how to get better. I can't do more than I already am. I'm sorry."

Dean pulled away from me gently, forcing my chin upward so that we were eye to eye.

"That's why it's called training. It's hard on your body and your mind for a reason," he explained. "You are pressing your body passed it's limits to take it to another level. You are a natural hunter in so many ways, you just need to train to have the confidence and the stamina to survive in what we do."

He was right, yet my juvenile mind still was clouded in self doubt and angst.

"It's not a game Chris," my brother added seriously. "It's risk your life stuff, and I will under no circumstances put you out there for real without being able to protect yourself. But Chris you can do this, honey. I wouldn't set you up for failure. I promise."

Unlike Dad, Dean was able to keep his promises, so I knew that I could put my faith in him.

"I know Dean, I just don't think I'm ready anymore," I whispered. "Maybe we should just forget it for a while? Go back to the way things were before."

Ha. That statement had no hope in becoming a reality. The day I learned the truth spoiled all things normal for me. Then again, I never had the normal life, even before I knew the truth.

"No go kid," Dean replied shortly. "You are going to get your ass back out there tomorrow and try again, and if I have to get all drill sergeant on your ass again I will!"

I twisted my baseball cap front ways, tugging it down so it cast a shadow over my eyes, expressing my sad mood. I sighed, to which a tear fell down my cheek.

"Whatever Dean," I replied halfheartedly. "Stupid guns."

I removed myself from the embrace in order to curl up onto my side on the doughy mattress, my watering eyes focusing into space. Thankfully my pelvic wound had healed up in a matter of days, so it no longer caused me pain. Dad came back like he said, and I found moving away again. This time we were in Montana and just like always, Dad ventured off again. Anyways, I knew I was fighting a loosing battle, I didn't even know why I was even trying. Dean could be a hard ass when he wanted to be, and he obviously thought now would be as good a time as any. I rolled over and ignored him, hoping he would just leave me alone. I'm as stubborn as a mule most times.

"Go ahead and feel sorry for yourself," I heard my brother sigh. "This is happening Christina for every reason I have ever listed and more! It's too late to turn back."

After that statement was made, I heard my bedroom door close. Now I could have peace with my fragile and warped mind. Good times.

At around five o'clock in the morning, I woke up from my sleep. I got out of bed and yanked my hand-me-down clothes back on. Venturing over to my bedroom window, I opened it before making my way down the drainpipe, the rifle slung over my shoulder.

The drain pipe was weaker than I had anticipated, and it came away from the cabin wall, causing me to fall down alongside the damaged pipe. I landed awkwardly in a large bush with a thud.

"Owww" I groaned, as I clambered to my feet, brushing myself off.

I carefully picked up the rifle, giving the window a quick glance to make sure Mother Goose didn't hear the racket I had made. I was glad that I hadn't broke the rifle as that would get me into serious crap. Then again I would be in crap regardless since I was sneaking out.

I wandered off in order to find the entrance to the nearby woods, which was the location of my current target practice. Minutes later, I found the right spot. I could feel the scars on bark of several trees, caused by my wayward bullets, as I ran my hand over the mossy surface. Sighing, I then focused on my personal mission and began firing at the tree. My aim was on the bulls-eye target that had been carved into it's bark.

My hands kept shaking whenever I pulled the trigger, and my posture was never right to which I was constantly correcting myself. It was hard due to the lack of light, which made it difficult to see the angle I was shooting at. The sun was beginning to make an appearance, yet the moon was refusing to go away.

"C'mon dammit," I scolded myself crossly, after missing the target once again. "You can do this, it's in your blood remember."

The sound of a tree branch snapping caused me to freeze suddenly. I wasn't alone. Using my instincts, I crouched down low and crept cautiously behind one of the trees, the rifle still in my grasp. I knew it was a huge risk sneaking out alone, and now I was gonna suffer the consequences.

The footsteps get closer, coming from behind me. Quickly yet as swiftly as possible, I scurried away from the trees and hid underneath a wooden picnic table, were I waited in anticipation and dread. My grip on the rifle grew tighter as the footsteps came closer yet again. I was trapped, making sudden movements now would only give me away and I couldn't afford to do that.

A shadowy form was coming towards the picnic table. Was my mind playing tricks on me again or was this figure real. Would it be wise to shoot or not? I shifted my position under the table, to the point were I was half under the table, my fingers released the safety on the rifle, and waited on the trigger. A raucous shriek by a passing crow startled me, causing me to fire the gun, next came a surprised yelp allowing me to detect the figure's location. Like a cat, I pounced out and clomped the stranger across the head with the butt of my rifle.

The dark figure fell to the ground with a thump, followed by a groan. A very familiar groan. I froze again.

"Uh oh," I moaned. "I'm in so much trouble."

The figure laying on the ground, half concussed continued to whine in pain.

"Dean?" I asked, nudging the form slightly with my foot. "Dean is that you?"

I waited for my reply to my question. If it was him, I was gonna be in so much crap.

"What the hell Chris!" came the annoyed grunt.

Ah nuts! It was him. Perfect, how was I gonna explain myself this time. All I can say is, I'm glad it wasn't Dad.

"Uh, I was practicing my technique…sir" I gabbled in reply, clutching the rifle to my chest as I quaked in my scuffed boots.

Using the word sir was for added effect, in hope that it would lessen the wrath of fury from my big brother. Then again, probably not. Dean sat up, holding his head. It may have still been dark but there was enough light from the sun coming up. From the look on his face I knew that I was in deep shit.

"I'm so sorry," I gulped nervously, backing away slightly. "I know it was dangerous, and I'm sorry that I hit you, but it was something that I really needed to do Dean, I'm so sorry."

Man, I really wanted to beat myself up with my rifle, that way no one else will get the privilege in doing so.

"You're not gonna belt me are you?" I asked. "Whenever I mess up, Dad takes his belt to me. If you do, make it quick."

My brother crouched down on his haunches, leveling himself with me as he took the rifle out of my hands.

"Chris, why would I do that? I'm not Dad," he said. "I have no intention of taking my belt to you. Ground you for doing something dangerous, yes, but belt you, of course not."

I sighed, hanging my head in shame, my baseball cap twisted to the right side expressing my frustration and anger. You could say that my baseball cap was like my own unique mood ring, as each position reflected my moods.

"But I deserve it" I stated in a matter of fact tone.

I broke the rules so therefore I deserved punishment. It was the strongest moral I was raised on growing up, if you did something wrong then you get a smack. At least, that was the case in Dad's rule book.

"I'm not gonna lie, what you did was dangerous and stupid," admitted my brother. cupping my chin, he forced me to look at him. "You know not to leave without telling me, forget about the fact it was the middle of the night. What if it wasn't me who found you? You know better than that Chrissie."

I looked up at my big brother and nodded. I then turned and started to walk back to the house. Dean's strides caught up to mine in no time, and he put an arm around me and squeezed.

"Grounded, huh" I said softly, as I scuffed my feet as we walked in time with each other.

"Yup" was Dean's only reply.

I sighed again. Ah well, I knew that was gonna be the end result. Next time it would be wise to go unnoticed. I should be so lucky.

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