Big thanks to my friend (you know who you are) for encouraging me to continue writing even if no one ends up reading...
Here goes...
I could describe the whole process of Sam, Dean, and Bobby grilling me and me having zero answers, but that just doesn't seem worth it. The bottom line is, when I black out, apparently I don't just pass out, like I thought, I actually draw major demonic attention to myself and then blow the bastards into the next century.
I mainly spent the rest of the day sitting awkwardly in Bobby's kitchen while the guys argued about what to do with me. I pretended to study the table intensely as I eavesdropped on their conversation. (Yes, eavesdropping is wrong, but you know what? They were discussing my life, so I think I get a pass.)
"The way I see it, we've got one option," Dean growled. "Waste her."
"You don't wanna kill her," Bobby retorted. "She's too potentially valuable. She could really make a lot of jobs easier."
"Whoa, whoa!" came Sam's voice. "You wanna use her as a weapon? She's a person! A person who's whole life has just been turned upside down! She's not a gun to fire, she needs our help."
"Or she's a wacked out psycho bitch who's been sucking demon blood with her wine coolers." I could hear the edge in Dean's voice and immediately knew the blood drinking was something they'd run into before.
Sam sighed. "Dean, she's young. She's got her whole life ahead of her. You tried to pick her up less than 48 hours ago! If we could help her find a way to deal, she might have a chance at continuing on with her life."
Dean groaned. "Sammy, she's a freak!"
"So am I!" Sam yelled.
"But you, we know! You, we can handle! You, we trust! That, in there, is strange and dangerous! She needs to be stopped, Sam!"
"You don't know that she'll hurt people!" Sam barked. "She has saved so many lives already, without even knowing it! Dean, look into her eyes and tell me she's evil!"
"She's a monster!"
"Am I a monster, Dean?"
"No, but that's different! You're two different people! She's a monster!"
"So what if she is? That doesn't mean she'll hurt people!"
"That's the definition of a monster, Sam," Dean grumbled, exasperated. "They always kill. She may not have yet, but she will. Just like Amy."
There was a long pause and I felt the thick tension seep into all of the air in the house, almost making it harder to breathe. Finally, Sam spoke again.
"That's not fair, Dean... Amy was... Look, we... We don't know what Diana is..."
"We know that she's powerful and that she's a demon magnet. That's good enough reason for me to plant a bullet in her brain."
"I won't let you kill her, Dean. She doesn't deserve it."
"Well then what the hell are we supposed to do with her?" Dean demanded. "We can't let her roam free, going on a rampage every time she gets a headache or stands up too fast."
"Train me." My voice rang out, high and clear above the thick tension, low voices, and insane levels of testosterone. They turned to see me standing in the doorway. Dean's mouth set into a hard line, his jaw tensing, and Sam suddenly looked apologetic and guilty. Bobby rolled his eyes and muttered an insult at them, annoyed.
"What?" Sam finally asked. "Diana, you don't know what you're asking. Just go back in the kitchen. We'll take you home soon."
"No," I replied, folding my arms and shifting my weight so that I was leaning on the doorway. "Train me."
"Listen, kid," Dean spat. "You're getting off easy if we take you home. Just count your blessings and go quietly."
I raised an eyebrow at them. "You want me to go home? Where a flesh eating creature ripped my roommates to shreds? Where I'll have no one to watch me if I black out again and make sure I don't hurt anyone? Where I could be a potential threat to an unsuspecting town of decent people who don't deserve the agony I might put them through? Where there'll be no one to chain me up if I go mad dog on the place? I mean, I am a monster, right, Dean?"
Dean's jaw tightened further and Sam's eyes slid to him slowly, in some thing like what I think is an I-told-you-so look.
"When you say, 'train you,' what is it you mean, exactly?" came Dean's gravelly voice as he turned his dark gaze from me, to Sam, then back again.
"Teach me how to be like you. You know, to fight demons and help people."
"Look, Diana," Sam sighed. "I get what you're trying to do. It's nice that you want to help, but you really don't know what you're getting yourself into. You just need to go home, finish school, and get back to some sort of normal life, okay? It's really what you'll want in the long run."
"Look, Sam," I replied, with edge in my voice, tired of him treating me like a child. "I get what you're trying to do. It's nice that you want me to have a simpler, happier life than you think I would if I did this, but, again, I'm not six. I know what I want and I can decide things for myself, thank you very much. As an adult, I make my own choices and, right now, I'm choosing to become a hunter."
"This is ridiculous," Dean rolled his eyes, turning away.
"Why? I'd be more back up for you and you could keep an eye on me and not have to worry that I'm going to hurt anyone. I can handle it. I won't be a burden, and if I am, just dump my ass and I'll figure myself out. Look, all I'm asking for is a chance to finally understand what is going on inside my head and to find a way to at least control it, if not use it to help."
"She's got a point," Bobby sighed. After a moment of consideration, Dean spoke again.
"We get on the road and we disappear," he said, stepping closer to me, arms folded, his face stony. "No family contacts."
"Haven't any."
"No friends."
"Died yesterday."
"Hard physical labor."
"Whip me into shape."
"Long hours of research."
"I practically lived in a library."
"Crappy motels."
"Fine."
"Crappy food."
"I can cook."
He raised an eyebrow at me. "But can you make pie?"
I cocked my head to the side, somewhat confused, a bit curious, but mostly amused. "Name it and it's in the oven."
Dean offered a very small half smile and I felt his icy defenses melt just a tad. He extended his arm and we clasped hands.
"Welcome to hell."
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