Special Thanks to Emilyrose for consistently reviewing,

it always brightens my day :)

I grunted when I hit the ground, the impact having knocked the wind out of me. I struggled to lift my head again and try to scramble to my feet, but as soon as I had propped myself up on my elbows, Dean's gun was pointed at my forehead, his finger on the trigger. In another split second, Sam had a knife at my throat and I froze under the blade.

"I hate to break it to you," he hissed in my ear. "No one fights fair."

After a couple more seconds, the boys slowly lowered their weapons and I was allowed to stand. Sam tossed his knife down on the table and handed me a bottle of water. Dean set his gun down as well, then folded his arms.

"Demons don't abide by any kind of honor policy," he said gruffly, staring me down. "They'll use any weapon they can get their hands on. And your mission is not to wound, but to kill. Always kill first, ask questions later. That means you use knives, machetes, guns, stakes, pipes, anything. Got it?" I nodded. "I'm gonna go get food. Work on your swing." I nodded again and he marched out of the junk yard.

I set the bottle of water down and grabbed the scarecrow Dean had fashioned together to be a dummy for me to beat on. It had been about a week since I asked them to train me and, luckily, demon activity was low, so I had a lot of time to learn to fight and study the Winchesters' father's journal and Bobby's various books.

I started on the scarecrow by throwing punches at it, then grabbed a machete and worked on swinging it to hit my targets. No matter how hard I swung, I could never hit where I wanted to and I began to get really frustrated. Finally, my frustration overcame me and I began hacking the dummy to pieces.

"Hey, easy," Sam laughed, clasping my shoulders in his large hands. "This is a dangerous weapon. You need to be careful with it."

"I've been aiming for the neck! Just the neck! Why is it so hard to behead an inanimate scarecrow?" I growled, exasperated.

Sam smiled at me. "You're thinking about it too much. You need to relax. Here, let me show you."

He slid his hands down my arms until they wrapped around my fists, locked around the handle of the machete.

"First, you need to relax your grip. You're trying to swing the blade, not choke it. Your stance is good, now lock your eyes onto your target. Don't let anything get in the way of that, no distractions. Just the blade, and the target. Now, envision the blade making direct contact with your target. See it in your mind."

His low voice filled my head and molded my thoughts, altering my focus so that I couldn't see anything but the neck of the scarecrow, couldn't hear anything but his low, patient instructions, and couldn't feel anything but the handle of the blade in my hands.

"Swing."

Swish. Crack. Thud.

The next thing I knew, the scarecrow's head was on the ground. I gasped.

"How did you do that?" I asked, looking back at Sam.

"You did it," he replied, offering me a small smile, and for some reason, I felt myself start to blush.

"Listen, Diana," he said, pulling away from me. "I wanna apologize for Dean's behavior. He's a good guy, he's just very cautious, you know?"

"You don't have to explain your brother's actions, Sam," I sighed. "I know why he treats me the way he does. I heard you guys talking the night that I asked to be trained. I know what he thinks of me."

I turned my back to him, setting the blade down and rubbing my wrists, sore from being jarred by decapitating the scarecrow and throwing punches at the guys all day. I heard him exhale behind me.

"Diana, I am so sorry."

I shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I get it. I'm a freak. I could hurt people. Probably kill them. And without even knowing. He's right." I paused, the realization finally sinking in. "I'm a monster."

"No, don't say that." Sam strode to my side, grabbing my shoulders and turning me to face him. "Do not say that. Ever. Do you hear me? You are not a monster. You are a good person who has suffered a lot. And you've just given up your life to help people. Diana, you are anything but a monster."

"Sam, I'm insane! I black out and don't remember what I've done, which is apparently a lot of damage!"

"Yes, but to the bad guys!" Sam sighed, dropping his head, then looked up at me again. "I understand what it's like to feel like a freak. I'm a freak too. I… I've been to hell and back… Literally. And I've had… special abilities too… I used to be able to exorcise demons just by willing it… Kind of like you do, except I was conscious."

I stared, slack jawed at him. "You… You know what I'm going through… You know what this is… And you didn't even tell me…?"

He held up his hands, as though to stop me. "No! No, no, no! Not at all! What I mean is, I had a similar thing happen to me, but it was not exactly the same. I mean, my abilities came from… ingesting demon blood…"

I felt my eyes widen and my jaw drop. "You… Drank demon blood…?"

Sam looked down and nodded. "It's not something I'm proud of… But yes… It happened… And, as a result, I acquired exceptional strength, physically, mentally, and supernaturally. It was addicting… But it was warping my judgement… So I had to stop… And the powers faded."

"I… I'm sorry… I had no idea…" I whispered, shocked. Tentatively, I reached for his hand, taking it in mine and squeezing it. "Thank you, Sam… For sharing that with me and for reminding me that my situation doesn't define me, my choices do." He forced a half smile and nodded. "And for the record? You're not a monster either."

"I'm definitely a freak, though," he smiled. I returned it genuinely and shrugged.

"We both are."

Another moment passed, and then Dean came back, hollering to us that there was food in the house. The second his voice rang through the air, Sam dropped my hand and we started towards the house at a faster pace than normal, staring at the ground.

After some Chinese take out and a couple of beers, Dean was grilling me on the differences between windigos and werewolves when Bobby's phone rang. He spoke in a clipped tone, using as few words as possible, then hung up and turned to us.

"Got a tip off about some disappearing kids down in Massachusetts somewhere. You boys up for the trip?"

The guys shrugged and then Dean shot me a discreet look. After a moment, he turned to me visibly.

"All right. Let's see how you do on the field."

Review?