Training is exhausting. I'm really not kidding. Since it's a vampire nest that is being dealt with, I have to take both my skills with a crossbow, and a machete into consideration. I'm not as skilful compared to my Dad and brothers, partly because I'm only allowed certain weapons, until I get a little older that is, even though I began weapon training when I was only ten.
Dean has ventured out, in order to obtain dead man's blood, which is a known toxin to vampires. Ignore the whole garlic stuff, because the quickest way to render a vampire helpless, is to shoot it with an arrow soaked in the blood, before swiping it's head clean off with a sharp blade.
I sat on my bed, whilst sharpening my machete, until Dad came over, and took it out of my reach. Sam was sitting at the kitchenette table, reading over Dad's journal once again. I put my hands out to the machete.
"It's not sharp enough yet, Dad" I remarked.
Dad shook his head at me, which made me slightly confused as to why the weapon had been removed from my hands.
"You're staying here," replied Dad. "It's too dangerous. I don't want you getting hurt."
My mouth dropped open in outrage. Dad always pulled this sorta crap on me. Was it because I was a girl, and not able to defend myself? I doubt so, because of all the times I was suspended from school for fighting.
"Dad!" I protested. "That's not fair! I can handle myself in a fight, you know I can. Besides, I've been in worse situations."
Dad shook his head once again, remaining firm. Sam gave me a sympathetic look from the kitchenette table.
"Chrissie, you're my little girl, and I don't want to see you getting hurt, or worse," said Dad, as he placed his hands on my shoulders. "You'll be safer here."
Letting out an animalistic growl, I shrugged off my father, before storming into the bathroom. I nearly took the door of the hinges when I slammed the door. For the next few minutes, I glowered at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I had lost some weight, but that's no surprise to me, as I've always been a skinny looking runt. My developing chest is still small, but I doubt I'll be a busty brunette, like those models in the dirty magazines Dean reads. No wonder Dad still thinks I'm a little girl, is because puberty is either late, or just caught up in traffic. I wish I was taller. I hate being only 5'1, though I was shorter only a couple of years previous. Dean always jokes that I hold a family record for the 'shortest' growth spurt, as I only gained three inches in height from the age of eleven to thirteen.
I can hear the mumble of Sam and Dad's voices from the other side of the door. Suddenly, my head begins to spin, and a searing pain flashes through my brain waves. I slumped onto my knees, as I clutch my burning head. My eyes flash a violet colour, as I enter a vision. However, this vision is different from my usual one. I see a blurred outline of a hanging body, tied up by the arms. It is no question, on who the body outline belongs too. Very tall, with a headful of hair, and long limbs like a giraffe. It's Sam. More outlines gather around him, before I hear Sam let out a bone rattling roar of agony. I gasp loudly, as I come out of the vision. Slowly, I climb shakily to my feet. I need to warn my brother. I need to come on the hunt. Something bad is going to happen.
A:N Posting this whilst on lunch break, in the library of the college that I attend. Wanted to update before my Communtion/Literature 1 class at 2.15pm. Enjoying season 9 so far, and happy about season 10 being annouced.
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