Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, as much as I wish I did.

A/N: this chapter is a bit longer than the others, but since I am off school for a little while, hopefully I will able to upload another chapter. Now let's get into the story!

Chapter 8

In the first few days, it was like Tara didn't know how to act around the Winchesters, and vice versa. Tara knew that the brothers wouldn't hurt her, but she couldn't immediately trust them either. That would override the protective barriers she had built over the past 10 years. They were kind enough; Dean had driven her to the bunker while Sam had driven her pickup truck. They said they wanted her to rest, but after a day of 'healing', she found she couldn't sit still. She needed to do something, to help someone, anything. She decided to respect the brothers' wishes for a little while longer, but by the end of the week she was being driven up a wall.

It was 6:30 a.m. on a Monday morning, and Sam Winchester had tiredly stumbled out of bed. Dean, always the late sleeper, wouldn't likely be up until 6:45 or 7:00. So Sam trudged down the hall towards the kitchen, sleepily rubbing his eyes. Suddenly he smelled freshly brewed coffee, and he turned into the kitchen to see Tara, holding a coffee pot and cooking a pancake in a frying pan.

Sam looked at the teen, confused. "Good morning," he said, although it sounded more like a question when he said it.

Tara turned her head and grinned. "Good morning," she replied. Looking Sam up and down, she stated, "You look tired."

Sam snorted. "No kidding. What are you doing up this early?"

She poured the coffee into a coffee mug. "You and Dean get up this early. Why shouldn't I?"

"You're supposed to be taking a break."

"I did take a break. I took a break all week. Now I'm ready to get started again."

She held the coffee out to Sam, and he took it gratefully. "You didn't have to make breakfast."

She shrugged her shoulders. "It's the least I could do. Besides, who said the pancakes were for you? Not all of us can run on coffee alone for seven days straight."

Sam smiled a little and took a sip of his coffee. Footsteps could be heard echoing down the hall, and this only made Sam's smile widen. Figures, he thought, shaking his head. Dean can sleep through the apocalypse, but he gets up for food.

Sure enough, Dean came into the kitchen only a couple of seconds later. "Something smells awesome," he stated.

"Good morning to you too, sleepyhead," Sam mumbled, while still smiling.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

"That 'awesome smell' is the smell of a real breakfast," Tara said, flipping a pancake, "unlike whatever crap you have been eating."

"I didn't know we even had the stuff to make pancakes," Dean admitted. "And I didn't know you could cook."

"Well you haven't exactly given me a chance. And I had to eat something while I was hunting."

"You could've had diner food. It's some of the most underrated stuff in America."

Sam shook his head. "Don't listen to him. The kind of food he eats is diabetes waiting to happen."

"Better than whatever rabbit food you eat. I'd take a beer and a burger over your salad any day."

Tara took the pancake out of the pan and put it onto a plate. "First pancake's done. Not my best work, but it looks edible. Anyone want it?"

"I'll take it," Dean said, and he started devouring it like he hadn't eaten in weeks. Tara just stared, a little surprised, and Sam sent an apologetic smile her way. "This is really good," Dean said, except his mouth was a little full, so it sounded a bit muffled. Tara did her best to suppress a grin and turned back to the stove, pouring out the batter for another pancake.

It was surprising how quickly Tara could fall into the routine the Winchesters followed. She woke up early, and researched alongside them for hours at a time. Due to her injuries, however, they refused to let her go to bed at the same late hours. "After all," Sam had said, "you do still have a concussion. You may not act like it, but you do need to rest once in a while."

Tara didn't understand how the Winchesters could work so much and sleep so little. She could see how tired they were, yet they never took a break, not even for a second. She could see guilt hidden behind their eyes, and a deep sadness, one that cuts them to the core, and as much as she wished she could help, she knew from personal experience that there were certain things that could never heal.

It was dark, and Tara was running. She heard screams from behind her, and no matter how fast she ran, or how far, they followed her, like ghosts. The ground was wet, and her feet sunk deeper with every running step. The darkness encircled her, encompassed her, until she didn't know which was up or down. Despite the dark abyss, she could feel the heat of the fire at her back. The dark world was suddenly alight, and she was surrounded by flames. The air was nothing but smoke, and she choked and coughed, struggling to pull in a breath. A figure appeared, clothes stained with blood, but wearing a twisted grin all the same. Purely black eyes glinted in the firelight, creating a haunting image. When the figure spoke, it's voice was deep and acidic.

"It's your fault."

Tara felt her insides go cold. "No, no, that's not true."

"You could've saved them. You could have saved them, but you ran. Now it's time for you to burn."

"No! No, please, no!" Tara cried, pleading with no one, tears streaming down her face. The floor gave out beneath her, and the flames covering the ground quickly approaching, and her final panicked scream could be heard before she hit the ground.

"NO!"

Tara sat up in bed, in a cold sweat, tears staining her cheeks. It wasn't real, it was just a dream, she told herself, taking deep breaths and attempting to regain her calm. She reminded herself that the bunker was the safest place on earth, and that none of the things that once haunted her could get to her here. They'll still find a way in, the voice in the back of her head told her. When this place burns, you will have only yourself to blame.

Tara shook the voice away, and glanced at the clock on her nightstand. The soft bluish glow of the alarm clock met her eyes, and the black numbers read 4:05. She groaned and attempted to rub the sleep out of her eyes. She knew that there was no way she was falling back asleep after the night she'd had, so she might as well do some work now and pray for sleep later. Pulling herself (and her heavy cast) out of bed, it suddenly struck her that even Sam and Dean would be asleep at this hour.

The silence in the bunker was deafening. Tara had never experienced the bunker like this, and even though she knew that the brothers were in their rooms right down the hall, she couldn't help but think of how empty it felt. There was always something going on somewhere, and Tara suddenly decided that she never wanted the bunker to look this deserted again.

Stumbling clumsily down the eerily quiet hall, she was surprised to find the library light on. Peeking inside, she saw Dean, still slumped over a book, barely awake.

"Dean?"

Dean glanced up. He looked absolutely exhausted, yet he showed no sign of surrendering to sleep. "Pulling an all-nighter?" Tara asked in a quiet voice, afraid to break the sullen silence that had enveloped the bunker.

Dean avoided the question entirely, asking her, "What are you doing up?"

Tara simply shrugged her shoulders and attempted to hide the fear on her face. "I couldn't sleep."

Dean studied her more carefully, and noticed her red-rimmed eyes, and her uneven breathing. "Were you crying?" he asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," Tara said without skipping a beat. "It was just a dream."

"Yeah, I get it. Nightmares can be pretty rough." Dean's voice was surprisingly gentle, and he showed genuine worry (although he tried to hide it) when he asked, "Anything you want to talk about?"

Tara didn't want to share any of her nightmares, not because she didn't trust the Winchesters, but because she didn't want to become even more of a burden then she already was. "If it's all the same to you, I would rather not."

Dean nodded, understanding. He was still uneasy, however. By the looks of it, Tara's nightmare had been severe, and he knew what hell a nightmare could be. He'd experienced plenty of nightmares, some of them more terrifying than their day-to-day lives, and he knew what kind of an effect they could have on someone. It was worrisome to think that this teen, this kid, had gone through something so terrible that it would continue to haunt her in her dreams. He made a mental note to find out what had happened, but tonight was not the night for that.

"I guess I couldn't convince you to go to bed?"

"Not tonight, not for a million dollars."

"You know, I was going to do some target practice. You wanna take a couple shots?"

"Won't that wake Sam up?"

"Sam? Nah, he'll be fine. The shooting range is pretty much soundproof and it's not near any of the bedrooms."

Tara snorted. "What's so funny?" Dean asked.

"I didn't even know you had a shooting range."

Dean chuckled. "Come on, let's go."

"Give me a little while. This cement that covers my leg makes walking a bit difficult."

Once at the shooting range, Dean snagged a handgun off of the wall. Handing the gun to Tara, he said, "Show me what you got."

Tara inspected the gun in her hands, and then looked at Dean. "Is this a test?"

"No, of course not. It's not like I'm going to kick you out if you miss. Just take a shot." Dean didn't expect much; this kid was a hunter, but she was still a kid. It was dangerous for anyone out there, let alone a teen. He just wanted to make sure that, if she insisted on continuing to do this, she could at least be prepared.

Tara shrugged her shoulders. "Okay, have it your way." She raised the gun with both hands and fired. The bullet hit dead center of the target's forehead.

Dean was doing his best not to seem surprised. Apparently, he didn't do it very well. Tara spotted the look on Dean's face, and tried not to laugh. "News flash: I'm a hunter. I know how to handle a gun."

She raised the gun again, this time with one hand, and fired. Dead center. With a glance back at Dean, she switched hands. She raised the gun, fired, and hit the target right in the middle of the forehead.

"Okay, okay, I get it, you know what you're doing."

"I'm sorry, what?" Tara turned her head to look at Dean, but the raised gun stayed in place. Keeping her head turned, she fired the gun. The bullet hit dead center.

"Now you're just showing off."

"Well, duh. It's not every day you get to prove a Winchester wrong."

"How did you get so good, anyway? I thought you said you've only been hunting for two years."

She finally lowered the gun. "If I was going to do this, I was going to do it right. Nothing half-assed." Tara shook her head and put the gun down on a table. "I wasn't about to die on my first hunt. So I studied. I practiced until I couldn't get anything wrong."

"Where did you get a gun? Isn't it illegal to have a gun if you're under 18?"

Tara snorted. "A lot of the stuff we do is illegal. The gun was just a matter of finding the right person, a person who just happened to be able to overlook a fake ID. After that, all I had to do was practice."

Dean rubbed his face. "You worry me, kid."

"Like you didn't know how to fire a gun when you were my age."

That's what worries me, Dean thought to himself. The last thing he wanted was another kid to have his childhood.

Tara handed the gun towards Dean, looking at him expectantly. "What's this for?"

"I took my shots. Now it's your turn."

Dean smirked. "No problem." He took the gun and rapid fired bullets into the target's head.

"Not bad."

"Not bad? That was awesome."

"What the hell?!"

Tara and Dean turned around to see a very tired Sam looking at them with annoyance. "It is four in the fucking morning."

Dean looked startled. He was normally the one who cursed. Tara looked just as shocked as Dean. "I thought you said this wouldn't wake him up?"

"I might have slightly exaggerated how soundproof this place is."

"Is it even soundproof?"

"Apparently not."

Sam still looked pissed as hell, staring daggers at the two of them. "What are you two even doing up this early?"

Dean shrugged, looking sheepish but also slightly smug. "Technically I never went to bed."

"That doesn't even matter," Tara pointed out.

Sam, obviously still tired and confused, rubbed his eyes. "Okay, fine. Tara, what were you doing up this early?"

Tara seemed to shrink into her shell. "Just a bad dream. Not important."

A moment of awkward silence ensued, before Tara broke it. "I… I'm gonna take another shot at sleeping. Sorry for waking you up, Sam. It won't happen again."

She walked out of the shooting range with her head hung low.

"What happened, Dean?" Sam asked, no longer angry but instead concerned. "What's wrong with her?"

"Every hunter has a backstory."

"But she's just a kid."

"We were kids once too, Sammy."

The words, although simple, made a point that Sam couldn't possibly argue with. One night was all it took. One night to forever alter their futures and give them burdens to carry for the rest of their lives. They had no time to be kids. That was one of the main reasons they made the sacrifices they made. If they could stop one kid from having their childhood, it was a job well done.

The Winchesters couldn't give Tara a normal life, but maybe they could give her a piece of it.

Sam looked at his brother, a knowing look on his face. "I have an idea."

Tara came to back to the library two hours later, fully dressed, and hair wet from a shower. She entered the library to see Sam and Dean hunched over a phone on speaker. Seeing Tara, Sam said into the phone, "Okay, talk to you later. Thanks." He hung up and both brothers turned to Tara. She looked at them cautiously. "What's going on, guys?"

"Have a seat," Dean said, gesturing to a chair. Tara hobbled over, leaning her crutches against the table.

"That was our friend Jody," Sam said. "She's a hunter, and she lives up North, in Oregon. We asked her if she would like to take you in."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No, you've been great," Dean assured her. "Jody has two other girls, Alex and Claire, about your age. They've been through some…bad times…too. You could go to high school, have a normal life, if you wanted to."

"Not for forever, just until you get better," Sam explained. "The bunker is amazing, but you can't live a normal life here. Nothing near here is anything close to normal. This life is tiring and it's hard, and the kind of weight you start to carry hurts like hell. We don't want you to have that kind of life. It's an offer, a new beginning, if you want it."

For a second, Tara was speechless. Then she found her voice. "I-I'm sorry. Really, I am, but I can't take you up on that offer. It's really nice of you to offer, and it's more than I can ask for, but I can't. If you want me to move out, I will, you don't have to sugarcoat it. It's okay, really, it is."

"No, we don't want you to move out, it's just— "

"Just what?"

"This life takes a toll on you," Dean said, looking the teen straight in the eye. "There's only one way this ends, and it's never pretty. We want to give you a chance to get out."

Tara looked back and forth between Sam and Dean, reading their expressions. Instead of the annoyance she was expecting, she saw only sincere, caring looks. She was thrown for a bit of a loop.

"I know the cost," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I gave up on a normal life a long time ago. There's no going back for me."

"You could. We want you too."

"Yeah, but I don't want a normal life." Her voice was gaining confidence. "I lost everything I loved and cared about. I was tossed around from foster homes to group homes to orphanages, looking for a normal life, and none of them worked out. After what happened to my family, my home, I just can't go back and pretend like it never happened. I've seen too much, and I can't just ignore it. I know I'm not going to live long. I know my abilities won't keep me alive forever. But who cares? I get to help people and make a difference; I've done more good in two years of hunting than some people have done in their whole lives." She took a deep breath. "Normal isn't an option anymore. I'm done trying to chase an apple-pie life. I've made my choice, and this is it. There's nothing else for me to do but hunt, so that's what I'm going to do. I'm sorry if that worries you, but I can't—I won't—go back."

As Sam and Dean exchanged surprised looks, Tara's eyes remained fixed on her fidgeting hands. She didn't raise her head, even when Sam said, "We don't want to force you into anything. You said no, and we can respect that."

The last part finally caused Tara to look up, looking Sam right in the eyes. It was the first time that she could remember where someone had actually listened to what she said. Even when she went hunting, everything she said was normally disregarded. Shut up, kid, the grown-ups are talking. She knew that she wasn't an adult, and that her judgement could be questionable at times, but she hated when the other hunters treated her like an outsider and a freak.

"You guys aren't like most other hunters, are you?"

Dean snorted. "No kidding. How many other hunters have died more than once?"

A smile quirked the side of Tara's mouth. "Thanks for the offer, guys, but it wouldn't have worked out anyway."

"And why's that?"

Tara's half-smile broke into a pride-filled grin. "Because I already graduated high school."

Dean looked more than a little bewildered while Sam looked impressed. "Wait, hold on," Dean said, putting his hands in the air. "You graduated high school when you were fourteen? How?!"

Tara simply shrugged, grin remaining in place. "I was a bit ahead of everyone else. Reading was big in my family. I learned to read by the time I was 3, and I read everything. When the teachers found out what I could do, and what I had learned, they let me skip a couple grades."

"So you're telling me," Dean said, still in a state of disbelief, "that because you read a lot you got to graduate high school when most would be starting it?"

Tara blushed. "Pretty much."

"Kid," Dean said with a smile filled with admiration, "you're awesome."

Tara felt her face go hot, and she knew she was probably as red as a firetruck. She wasn't used to getting compliments, and although she felt like she should say something, she was speechless.

Dean shot the teen a reassuring smile when he saw her obvious nervousness and embarrassment. "I guess I'd better call Jody and tell her that she's not going to have another houseguest." He dialed a number and quietly left the room to talk to Jody.

"You're a surprising kid, you know that?" Sam commented.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"So far, I'd say it's worked in your favor." Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "You understand why we wanted you to go, right? We weren't trying to chase you out or anything."

"Yeah, I think I get it. A hunter's life isn't the prettiest."

Sam snorted. "That's the understatement of the century." His face turned serious, and his eyes held pain within them. "I get why you want to do this, I really do, but promise me something."

The tone to his voice was so unlike Sam that for a second, Tara felt scared. "What is it?"

"Promise me that if things get too dangerous-if it's a last-stand, guns blazing kind of thing—promise me that you'll run."

Tara's face went white. "What?"

"If something happens, if you have the chance, I want you to get out as fast as you can. Run and don't look back."

"You know I can't promise that."

Sam rubbed his hand across his eyes. "Yeah, I know. It's just… me and my brother don't want to see you get hurt. Some pretty ugly stuff tends to happen in this line of work."

He wasn't telling her something. She could tell. The pain and loss he tried to hide behind his eyes flashed like a neon sign; you'd have to be blind not to see it. Her own words flashed across her head, every hunter has their backstory. Tara was beginning to suspect that there was more to the Winchesters' backstory than the legends she had heard. No shit, Sherlock, she thought to herself. Real life heroes are never like their stories.

"You don't have to tell me about the ugly stuff. I've seen a lot of it."

The hardened look that appeared on Sam's face surprised her. The words he spoke had a darkened tone that she had never heard him use. "Not all of it. You don't want to see all of it."

Sam, through his dark reflection, suddenly realized how scared Tara looked. Good job, Sam, he thought to himself. Now you've terrified the kid.

Dean broke the tension in the room when he came through the door. "Jody's been told. Although she is a little mad at you, Tara. She says she had a room all prepared."

Tara shrugged her shoulders. "I would cover all costs, except I'm a teenager and have no money."

The smirk fell from Dean's face. "She also says she has a hunt."

Sam and Dean shared a glance, and Tara knew exactly what was up. "Guys, come on, really?" She laughed a little bit.

"We don't have to go. We can find someone else— "

"No, you guys should go. You've been looking for something like this for weeks."

"But you'll be here alone— "

"In the safest place on earth!" Tara shook her head, an amused smile spreading across her face. "You can't take me with you, because I'll be a liability, but you can hunt on your own." When she saw the doubting glances on both faces, she added, "Guys I'll be safer here than on any hunt I've ever been on. I've got plenty of food, water, and a library to die for. I'll be fine."

"I guess that settles it then," Dean said. "I'll go pack."

Sam watched his brother leave, then turned back to Tara. "You sure you're okay with this?"

Tara rolled her eyes. "Yes, Sam, I'm sure."

"Absolutely sure?"

"Go pack, dumbass."

It took less than 20 minutes for the boys to pack for the hunt. As they walked towards the exit, Dean was giving Tara the ground rules.

"No parties, and I mean it. This is a secret base, emphasis on secret."

"Yeah, like I have friends to invite."

"The hunt shouldn't take more than a few days. We'll call you every day to check up on you. If we miss a call, call Jody or Garth. No matter what happens, do not come after us. Got it?"

"Yeah, I got it."

"There's food in the fridge and extra money if you run out." Turning to Sam, he asked, "Ready to go?"

"I think so." To Tara, he said, "Stay out of trouble while we're gone."

Tara gave a small smile. "I'll do my best."

The brothers walked up the stairs towards the door. Dean turned and gave a wave. "Catch ya later, kid."

Tara gave a half-salute. Sam cast one last worried glance in Tara's direction, then shook his head, as if to shake the fearful thoughts out of his mind. The bang of the shutting door echoed through the halls of the bunker.

Tara turned from the bottom of the staircase where she had been standing, gazing out at the expanse of books on the shelves in the now-deserted library. All of them held secrets she couldn't even begin to imagine.

With a smirk, she thought aloud, "I'd better get started."