Max was very efficient in the clothing store. Bobby gave her a budget, and Max went to town weighing her options, checking for utility and durability, and tallying up everything she needed. When she was done, she had four pairs of jeans, eight shirts of varying sleeve length, a light jacket, underwear, socks, pajamas, and a new pair of shoes. Bobby insisted she get a backpack for her clothes in case they ever needed to hit the road. And even then she came in severely under budget, so Bobby made her get a new bed set including curtains, blankets, pillows, and a round chair that he seemed kind of leery about but that Max had always thought looked cool.

The grocery store was less efficient. Max wasn't very forthcoming with favorite foods because Bobby eventually gave up asking her what she liked and started piling the cart full of junk food and sweets—things that apparently all kids loved. It was towering over with Doritos and Ding Dongs until Max asked if she could get some bananas. After that, Bobby put some of the junk food back and rounded the cart out with all of the food groups.

They were about to head out when Max asked if she could get some milk. Bobby said yes and was very surprised when Max came back with two gallons of whole milk.

Max had researched at the library in Los Angeles that the tryptophan in milk helped calm down her shakes.

When they got home, Max had been hiding her tremors as best as she could, but it was bad enough that she had gotten out one of those coffee mugs and filled it full of milk before all of the groceries were carried in.

She downed three mugs full before the tremors had subsided.

Now she sat leisurely at the table while Bobby emptied the bags into the cupboards.

He kept glancing at her as he came back for more food to put away.

Max ignored it as she sipped at her milk. It was pure, creamy heaven.

Bobby came back to the table and opened the plastic pink solo cups he had bought for her. Apparently his drinking staples consisted of coffee and beer. He gave her another look as he wadded the plastic up and threw it in the trash.

"So," Bobby said slowly, as he put the cups away. "You like milk."

It wasn't a question, but Max met his gaze and answered. "Yes."

Bobby grunted and went back to putting things away. He took out a pocket knife and sliced open the container on the bottled waters. "Well good. It's nice to know you can say you like something or not."

He eyed the gallon container that Max had kept by her side. It was already a third gone.

"We'll get more from now on," he said gruffly.

Max gave a very large, very feline smile. "Good."

Bobby turned around quickly and cleared his throat. "Good," he repeated.

Max just smiled as she watched his back while he wrestled some frozen pizzas into the freezer. After he was done, he looked deeper into the freezer, checking inventory. He closed the little freezer.

"C'mon kiddo," he said, heading out the backdoor.

Max hopped up to follow him, feeling rejuvenated and curious. She trailed him as he navigated around a row of cars and walked up to a shed/garage type building. He flicked on a light. Inside there was a truck and a small white car. Against one wall, there was a wooden bench that spanned every thirty feet of the length of the garage. It was covered in tools. Bobby headed to the other side of the garage and walked up to a large, box freezer. He pulled the lid up. Inside, there was maybe twenty white packages with labels such as steak, ground meat, chuck, ribs, and roast.

"Hmm…" Bobby said. "Looks like we're gonna have to go hunting soon." He put the lid back down. "How about tomorrow? I'll take you hunting and we can see how good a shot you are."

Max fidgeted a little. "I don't really like guns."

"You don't?" he asked. "But John said…"

"I know a lot about them like how to take them apart and clean them. I had a lot of experience with them. But I…" Max certainly hoped she could keep up with all the lie and half-truths she was telling. "I watched one of my friends get shot. I haven't touched one since."

"Hmm…" Bobby said. "Well, that's going to be a problem. I reckon you're not too fond of knives anymore either, are you?"

Max shook her head.

"Well that puts a big dent in what hunts we can take you on. Most supernatural creatures are either killed with a knife or a gun," he said thinking.

Max felt ashamed. She wanted to help people, but she didn't think she could do it.

Bobby's eyes followed along his wall until they rested on something. "What about a bow?"

Max followed his gaze. On the wall was a simple bow. At Manticore, they had taught them how to use crossbows, but they never taught them how to use regular bows and arrows.

Max shrugged. "My grandfather taught me how to use a crossbow."

"It's a lot different than that," Bobby said, walking over and getting the bow down from the wall. "Crossbows are almost like guns. Some states don't even let you use 'em in archery contests. It'll take some getting used to, but we'll give her a go. Gotta start you somewhere. We'll practice in the morning. I have some targets somewhere I can dig up."

Bobby dusted the bow a little. "C'mon. Let's go inside. I'll show you to your room, and you can put away those clothes we picked up."

He took the bow in with them and sat it down on the kitchen table as he picked up the bags, leaving Max with just pillows to carry.

Max followed him up creaky stairs to a narrow hallway. There were two doors.

"First door's the bathroom. I have my own downstairs with me, so feel free to take over. The second door is your bedroom." He opened the door.

Inside was a small room with two windows that faced the front yard. There was a double bed, a closet, a desk with a chair, a bedside table, and a dresser.

"I know it's not much," Bobby said, placing the bags on the desk. "But it's all yours."

Max's throat felt a little tight and her eyes stung. "Thank you, Bobby."

He smiled at her. "No problem, kiddo."

She just kept standing there, looking around and wondering when her life had gotten so much better.

"Well," Bobby said. "Let's get these old blankets off your bed, so you can put your pretty purple ones on."

Max nodded and moved to help him. She didn't necessarily pick out the blankets. She had been ready to pick up a white quilt that was thin, yet warm so that it could be used year round. She didn't even necessarily like the color purple, but, after Bobby had turned down the quilt, Max had studied his line of sight and picked out one of the more "girly" blanket sets he had been eyeballing.

It had made him smile anyway, so Max didn't mind them too much. If she got too hot, she could just kick the thick comforter off and use the sheets.

Bobby held the old blankets and hovered in the doorway. "Well, I'm just gonna go put these in the laundry. I think I'm gonna stay up and check the arrow, make sure it's good to go in the morning. You rest up and I'll see you bright and early in the morning."

Max nodded her head. She finished making the bed and stepped back to admire it. It wasn't too bad actually. She actually did like the colors a bit. It made the old, wooden room seem alive again. She went about putting all of her clothes away. They easily fit into the dresser. Next, she decided to put away the toiletries and use the bathroom. She grabbed the bag of toiletries and some pajamas.

The bathroom had a sink, mirror, toilet, and shower. Everything she needed. She went about putting everything away. Bobby had even gotten her new purple towels to go in the bathroom. She felt he was having more fun with the shopping than she was when he tried to get her to pick out a bathroom rug. Thankfully, she had talked him down from that.

Just for good measure, Max went ahead and wiped everything down. When that was done, she took a shower and brushed her teeth. After that, she went back to her room, turned off the lights, and laid in bed, listening to the sounds of Bobby tinkering in the kitchen as he sipped at a beer.

She closed her eyes and tried to go to sleep.

After an hour, she was still awake, and so was Bobby.

She padded down to the kitchen on silent feet, subconsciously missing all of the creaky spots on the stairs.

She stood in the kitchen doorway, watching Bobby work on restringing the bow. He kept adjusting the tightness by turning the knob at the top and then pulling the string back. It seemed very similar to tuning a guitar.

He put the bow down and reached for his beer. As he did, his eyes wandered and landed on her, causing him to jump and nearly spill his beer.

He pointed at her. "We're getting a cowbell for you."

Max almost smiled.

Bobby took a sip of his beer as he assessed her. "Can't sleep?"

Max shook her head no, but didn't offer an explanation. He would probably assume it was nightmares or something. And part of it was, just not all of it.

He picked the bow back up and nodded at the chair across from him. Max came in and sat down.

Bobby went back to tuning the bow while Max watched.

Finally, about an hour later, Bobby was yawning, and Max was wide awake.

"Well kiddo, I'm gonna head off to bed now. I already set up the targets outside, so we're good to go. Be ready to be up bright and early."

Max went upstairs, got in bed, and stared at the ceiling.

It was another three hours before she fell asleep.

DASDASDASDASDASDASDASDASDAS

Apparently bright and early was not any time before eight o'clock in the morning.

Max was dressed and ready to go for the day by five, but Bobby was still in his bedroom, snoring. Max went around the house checking for creaky boards, hidden cupboards, and forbidden objects. All in all, it was a rather boring house. At least, it was until she got to the study. There were tons of books, half of which looked ancient. There was a fireplace and a desk, but that was all there was room for. Books were piled high on window sills and tables, and when those were filled up, in great, towering stacks on the floor.

There was a door in there, but it was locked. From her mental blueprints she had made of the house, either it lead to a closet or was the entry to a basement. Max put her ear up to the door and knocked. It echoed and disappeared.

It was definitely a basement.

She decided to save that for another time. Right now, she was dying to go through Bobby's library.

She started with glancing through all of the titles, remembering locations of the ones that she wanted to read first.

None of the books that she had skimmed through at the library were in Bobby's collection. Max was only surprised by the fact that not a single one of the two hundred books were good.

Max walked over to the desk, noticing some books that were out and open. One was open to a section on summoning and trapping rituals. She picked up pieces of notebook paper that were scattered across. The handwriting was a messy scrawl and form of short-hand with only the necessary words written down.

She put them aside and started sliding books around. There was a thick layer of clutter on the desk. Her hands hesitated when they ran across something soft. She dug down until she found it again and pulled it out. It was some sort of animal hide-bound book. It had several slips of paper sheathed among the pages of the book, being held in by the string that tied the book shut.

Max sat down in the chair and untied the book. She opened it to the first page. There was a handwritten passage on the first page along with a picture of a brunette lady. Max looked the photo over for a second before placing it down. She read the passage. It was done in the same masculine handwriting that had written the notes, but it was much more legible. It was a story of sorts.

About Bobby's wife.

Max skipped ahead in the book, feeling wrong to invade his privacy like that. Two pages later, the passage was over and there were handwritten notes, not the shorthand thankfully, about demons. Max leaned back in the chair and started reading. All of the stuff she had researched already had only been theoretical. Bobby's book was dense, meticulous, and practical. Everything in here had been tried and tested by Bobby himself. He was definitely a researcher.

Max began absorbing every word.

While Bobby seemed to specialize in demons, he also faced off with many other things. Max learned invaluable information. Everything Bobby had researched and done in the past ten or so years, Max now knew. She saw what he meant when he said that she would have to get over her aversion to guns and knives. Majority of the things were killed by one of the two. She couldn't really kill anything as it was. She could shoot flaming arrows into Wendigos, incapacitate vampires temporarily with dead-man's-blood tipped arrows, and pour salt lines to keep things out. Anything else required a gun or stabbing.

Max frowned.

Maybe she could just work with a partner. Max was good with memorization spells. She already had all of the rituals and Latin verses from Bobby's book memorized. Surely she wouldn't be hurtful to the cause if she was on a team. She could pull her own weight. Maybe Bobby could do all the shooting with her as his personal bodyguard.

Not that she would be able to be a very effective bodyguard until she explained to him why she was so strong, fast, and capable.

Bobby's breathing changed from the other room. Max scrambled up out of the chair and buried the journal back under the pile of papers just as she heard him get out of bed.

Max decided to go into the kitchen and look busy. She may not be able to cook a thing, but she certainly could wash dishes.

That's how Bobby found her when he came out in his housecoat and slippers.

He stopped mid-yawn when he saw her. "How long you been up, kiddo?"

Max shrugged her shoulders. "Since five. I thought you said we were getting an early start."

"Yeah," Bobby said as he headed towards the coffee-maker. "8 a.m. is an early start for you young people."

Max didn't really want to have to stay in her room until after 8 everyday just to pretend she was normal. "I'm used to getting up early."

"Oh," Bobby said uncomfortably. He pulled out an iron skillet and put it on the stove. "Well, I don't have a whole lot for you to do that early."

He went to the fridge and got out some eggs and bacon.

Max very hesitantly supplied, "I like to read." She gauged his reaction.

He didn't even blink an eye. He just cracked an egg on the side of the pan and poured it in with a loud sizzle. "What do you like to read?"

"Anything," Max said.

"Well," Bobby said, turning to her as he threw the shell in the trash. "I gotta lotta books around here. Feel free to help yourself to all of the ones that don't have demons or witchcraft in them. Those, I prefer you ask me before you read. Other than that, we'll see if we can get you down to the university library and check some books out."

Max nodded, excited.

"Good then," Bobby said. "That's settled. Now make yourself useful and cook us up some buttered toast."

Max burnt the first four batches. After that, he sent her to the cutting board to cut some apples. Max thought he was going to make her use a knife, but instead he pulled down an apple slicer.

"Don't burn these," he said grumpily but placed the cutter gently down in front of her.

Max grinned when he went back to cooking the bacon and eggs, mumbling to himself about how cooking toast was practically foolproof.

It didn't take them long to finish breakfast and head outside. Sometime before Max had come down last night, Bobby had drug a car bench seat out into the pathway behind his house. Attached to it was a large target with numerous rings on it.

Max followed Bobby until he stopped about twenty feet from the target.

"Alright, kiddo," Bobby said, turning to her and handing her the bow. "I don't know how you learn best, but I can give you some of the fundamentals of shooting arrows if you want."

Max shook her head. "My grandfather taught me enough about crossbows."

"Okay then," he stepped back. "Well, have at it. I hope you don't mind me watching. I want to get a good idea of your skill levels."

Max nodded. Normally, like with throwing the rocks yesterday, she would play down her abilities, but he was assessing her to see how well she would do on a hunt.

Max recalled everything she had learned about bows from Manticore, which wasn't a whole lot. They had taught them how to use crossbows, but, like Bobby had said, they were a lot different from regular bows. She decided to just shoot and see what happened. There were only so many technicalities and physics you could study before you had to just actually do it and go from there.

She notched her arrow, pulled back on the quiver, aimed, and let the arrow loose. It shot from the bow with amazing speed. It hit the seat with a solid thunk, but it was in the far corner and nowhere near the target.

"Good, good. That was a great first shot. It might help if you stand like this," Bobby said as he corrected her form a little.

Max shot again. This time, she watched its trajectory with her faster than normal reflexes, noting the way the arrow sliced through the air. Its path was affected a little by the air itself because it was slower than the crossbow. It hit the seat a little closer to the target.

"Good," Bobby said. "Your form is good. Now all you have to do is figure out the…"

But Max had already learned how the arrow would sail through the air, and she let another arrow loose before he could finish his sentence. It went through the air. Max watched its path curve until it was heading directly into the bull's-eye.

"…the aim," Bobby finished slowly, staring at the arrow. He gave her a sharp look. "Do it again."

Max did it. It hit the center of the target once again, making the other arrow quiver.

"You sure you haven't done this before?"

"No," Max said.

"Okay," Bobby said, still giving her a look. "Let's step back a bit."

They stepped back to thirty feet.

Max shot. The arrow was a little off, having to travel a farther distance, but she corrected that on the next shot and was brushing the other two arrows on the bull's-eye.

"Farther," Bobby said and walked back to sixty feet.

Max didn't even need a practice shot this time. She had two distances to go off of, so she had done the calculations in her head.

This time, Bobby walked back to about sixty yards. They were right next to the back door of the house.

Max shot and got the center.

"Again," he said.

Max shot it again. It went in.

"Well, hell's bells," Bobby said. He patted her on the back. "You're a natural, kiddo."

Max smiled and thanked him.

"Is there anything else you're that good at?"

"I'm decent at hand-to-hand combat and excelled at escape and evade."

"We'll have to test that out."

Four hours later, Bobby had tested her endurance, reflexes, and agility—all of which Max had passed with flying colors, which, in her opinion, meant playing back her abilities to keep him from getting suspicious but still impressing him.

"Your grandfather must have been one tough drill sergeant," he said to her as they were heading in for lunch.

Max stiffened up a little but relaxed when she realized that he was just kidding.

"Did John tell me he was in the army?"

"Yes," Max said, remembering her story. "He was a ranger."

"Huh," Bobby grunted. "Well, that explains it. Those are tough people."

"Yes sir," Max said.

"Well," Bobby said, pulling out some food. "How about chicken noodle soup and cheese sandwiches for lunch, then I'll grill you on your knowledge about the supernatural?"

Max was glad she had read his journal earlier.

Max gave him quick, concise answers back as she watched him brown the bread and melt the cheese.

"Huh," Bobby said. "Your granddaddy was extremely thorough."

"He wanted to make sure I was prepared to deal with anything," Max said.

"Well," Bobby said as he flipped the sandwiches with a metal spatula. "Normally, I don't agree with takin' kids on a hunt."

Max waited with baited breath, hoping there was a 'but' in there. She didn't want to keep just ignoring her training. Even if she never told Bobby her secret, she would still be able to help save lives with 'normal' human abilities.

Bobby looked up and smiled at the look on her face. "But," he drawled. "I might know of a ghost or two somewhere that I could use your help on exorcising."

Max grinned unrepentantly.

"There are conditions," Bobby warned, pointing the spatula at her.

"What kind of conditions?"

"Conditions like, you follow my lead and always listen to what I tell you, no matter what, or you don't get to go on hunts. And," he added, "you have to learn to trust me. I don't expect you to trust me now because you don't even know me, but that's okay. That's where the 'followin' orders' part comes in."

Max nodded quickly, happy to oblige.

"Now before you go sayin' yes, know that's not all. You are going to be home-schooled for your education, supernatural or otherwise."

"I'm good at math," Max volunteered.

"Good," Bobby said, putting a plate and bowl of soup in front of her. "I suck at it. You're also going to keep up on your training."

Max agreed quickly to that. It was something she did anyways to keep herself prepared in case Manticore found her.

"And…" Bobby said, "Later on, if you are ever going to want to hunt anything besides a ghost on your own, you are going to either have to get over your aversion to knives or guns."

Max paused as she ate her soup. Of course that made perfect sense, but she still couldn't get past the images of her sisters anytime she thought of a knife or a gun. Maybe she was permanently scarred.

"Now that that's out of the way, I know someone who I can call to help see where you are on hand-to-hand combat. One of John's boys."