We stand in a clearing in a forest somewhere off the highway. There are birds chirping and orange sun beams shine down between thick leaves. Dean is instructing me on different ways of self-defense and how to throw a punch or serve a kick strong enough to disarm an opponent. We have been doing different exercises the whole day and currently I am learning to throw my opponent to the floor.

"You're a quick learner," he groans as he lies down on the ground where I managed to flip him over when he attacked from behind me. Sam laughs from where he's leaning on the car. Dean lifts his head to look at him and say, "Shut up."

"I did take some martial arts classes back home," I answer modestly.

Dean finally gets back up and I have to crane my neck to look at him. "Why didn't you tell me that before we started this?"

"Well, I wasn't very good at it," I smile innocently. "You're a good teacher."

"Oh yeah?" Dean asks skeptically. "For that compliment, I'm letting you off the hook."

I can't help the grin that widens on my cheeks. I am only in my t-shirt and jeans, having taken off everything else because they only serve as resistance. I'm sweating and a cold wind sends me shivering.

"Maybe, we should rest for now," Dean decides, walking to his car. He takes a swig of water from a mineral water bottle and tosses me a towel.

I wipe down most of the sweat on my arms and neck, pulling my hoodie back on. The day gets darker and we decide to go for dinner then rest at a motel for the night. At the motel, Dean takes a little longer than usual to get his things out from the car. Having settled in myself, I go back out to see if he needs help.

I walk to where he has his head inside his car boot. He has the secret compartment open. I look at all the weapons inside, knives of all sizes filled up one side while guns strapped into place took over the rest of the space. He loads a silver gut and pocketed it before throwing a few more into his duffel bag.

"What are you doing with all that?" I ask when he passes the heavy duffel to me.

"I'm gonna teach you how to use them all," he answers simply.

I learn to load and disarm a revolver a few times, Dean seems satisfied that I can wield it safely enough. We move on to a semi-automatic pistol and I load and unload that too. Dean shows me how to use them and some precautions to take.

The pistol is a lot heavier than it looks. I couldn't carry it with one hand without my arm shaking and giving way not five second later. I use my left hand to support my right when I hold the pistol up. I lift it up a few more times until I cannot feel my arms anymore.

"Can we stop now?" I ask, worn out and tired.

"Yeah, we can," Dean nods. "Unload everything and keep them before going to sleep," he instructs. He says this in a no-play tone and I don't waste a second.

I unload every gun and double check to make sure. I keep the bullets back in their boxes and toss them into the duffel bag. Dean and Sam get ready to sleep, bickering quietly over who gets the bed tonight. I smile to myself when they resolve to rock, paper and scissors to decide. I brush my teeth and comb through my hair before changing into a clean t-shirt and my boy shorts in the bathroom.

When I come back out, Dean is grumbling as he lays down blankets on the carpet to serve as his bed for the night. Sam laughs smugly as he makes a big show of lying down on the bed and making himself comfortable. Dean sits with his legs propped up and supporting his elbows. He doesn't look happy and Sam falls back onto his bed and moans.

Dean catches my eye and I raise an eyebrow. "I have to sleep on the floor," he whines.

"If you want, I can switch with you," I shrug. "I don't mind."

"Really?"

I nod and he dives into the sheets face first. I cock my head as I watch him stretch like a cat, content with his comfort. I laugh to myself as I settle into the makeshift mattress Dean had made. Being closer to the ground, I could smell the stale carpets and see the stains on them as well. I ignore the rough conditions and lay my head on the pillow. I close my eyes, tired, and the world goes black.

I dream about what happened when I died. The day of training had taken my mind off it but now it haunts my sleep. I can hear the crash of the door coming down. I can hear Jessie's voice down the hall. I remember the secret room full of weapons and odd things. I remember its stony prison-like walls with that one window. I run into the forest, so dark and so quiet. I hear the gunshot and I can see my wound, but I don't feel the pain. I see my mother, but it's not her anymore. She holds the gun to my chest and pulls the trigger. In my fading vision, I see my dad. I see him stab her. The last I remember is my mother's terrible shriek when she was stabbed.

I open my eyes and find myself in cold sweat. I am panting from the memory of running. Adrenaline pumps through me along with a wash of grief. I wipe away the stream of tears on my cheeks. I hadn't noticed I was crying until then and I let out a sob.

I don't want any of this. I am stuck in a place I happened to have gone to in my dreams. Apparently, it's all real and not just my overactive mind. I am stuck with these two men I barely know. I don't want to go anywhere without my father. I don't want my mother to be dead. I don't my father to be in danger halfway around the world. I want to go home. I want a simple, with my family and a home. Now, that's all gone.