This Curse On Our House

by Sonny13

Faith has battles in her bones and nothing left to lose; a dangerous combination, but perfect for a hunter. But she's got demons out for her blood, convinced she can break some kind of curse, and they call her the Child of War - whatever that means. Things might be a little easier if Dean Winchester wasn't so damn frustrating. Dean/OC

4. The Hunter

The Hunter

It was a week before the mysterious Tobias Monroe finally arrived.

Faith spent her time alternating between doing menial tasks around the house for Bobby and sitting by the fire reading from the endless sea of books she was surrounded by. Bobby had some suggestions for which books and chapters she should read, and she read them with an enthusiasm she'd never before had for…well, anything.

Faith had never considered herself a particularly studious person – in high school, she'd spent more time skipping class than actually attending – but she was realising now that maybe it was just because she'd never found the right subject.

Because this wasn't algebra or Shakespeare or biology class – this was the supernatural, a world that lived parallel to them, right beneath their very noses. It was every scary tale and ghost story come to life, and it was as fascinating as it was horrifying – her favourite combination.

She learned about legends she'd never even heard of before, and discovered all the truths about the ones she had. Crosses and sunlight and stakes to the heart did nothing to vampires, and genies didn't live in fancy little lamps or live to grant wishes, but rather they were creatures straight from a horror film, lurking in ruins, feeding off human life force.

With every new thing Faith learned, the deeper her fascination became. She had no idea how all of this had managed to stay out of public knowledge, but it was probably a good thing, she decided, reading about things like changelings and skin-walkers and vengeful spirits. If the world knew, there'd be mass hysteria. There'd be chaos.

No, it was better to let the world live in ignorant bliss. People like Dean and Sam and Bobby (and maybe, one day, even her) fighting these battles, so that all the innocents of the world didn't have to.

The pain of losing Nate was always there, like when he'd died, he'd taken a piece of her with him, leaving a hollow cavern in her heart that she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to fill. But she found it surprisingly easy to distract herself from the pain of the loss, diving into tome after tome of Bobby's ancient books, desperate to keep the stream of information pouring into her head if only to drown out the sound of her own agony.

Faith had always been adaptable. You had to be when you were an orphan. There was no other option. Either you got used to the constant changes of life, or you didn't make it to adulthood in one piece.

So Faith fell into a routine, giving herself over to this strange, new life so much so that she almost didn't notice time passing at all. When, on the morning of the seventh day of her stay with Bobby, there came a knock at the front door, Faith wasn't expecting it to be her new Mr. Miyagi.

"Can you get that, Faith?!" Bobby called through the screen door. He was busy filling Rumsfeld's food and water bowls for the day, and then he had a handful of cars waiting for oil changes and brake pad fittings.

Faith was deep into a thick tome about all manner of hell-creatures, focused on a particularly interesting chapter on hellhounds, but she stood nonetheless and made her way to the front door, the cuffs of her too-long jeans brushing the floor.

When she opened the door, it was to find a man in his early thirties stood on the porch, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a sour look on his face.

"Can I help you?" she asked, eyebrow raised. She hoped he wasn't going to try to sell them something – she knew Bobby well enough by now to know he had an extremely low tolerance for travelling salesmen. And more than enough guns to do something about it.

"I'm looking for Faith Bueller," said the man in an English accented voice that took her by surprise. At the sound of her own name Faith went from mildly curious to on-high-alert. The man was conventionally handsome, with clear blue eyes and a full beard hiding what was sure to be a killer jawline.

He didn't look like a demon, but one could never be too cautious. "Christo," she blurted, muscles straining as she prepared herself to run. The man didn't flinch or wince, and his eyes remained the colour of the sky on a clear summer's day.

He arched a single eyebrow, looking unimpressed. "I'm not a demon."

"Yes, well I know that now," she snapped, irritated by his drawling voice and prim accent even as her heart raced in her chest, pulse loud in her ears. "What do you want?"

"I'm Tobias. You've been expecting me?"

She narrowed her eyes at his tone but held her tongue before she could say something stupid. Apparently, this bearded model was to be her hunting Gandhi, and she didn't want to get off on an even worse foot than she already had.

"Right," she said, forcing a smile that was only just barely polite. "Of course. Hi, I'm Faith."

If possible, Tobias only seemed more unimpressed. "Yes," he said slowly, like he were speaking to the mentally handicapped, "I know."

She swallowed back something truly scathing and stepped aside to let him into the house. He moved past her, dropping his bag to the floor with the dangerous clank of knives banging together, and then kicked the excess snow from his boots.

"Bobby here?"

He spoke so sharply, succinctly, like she wasn't worth the extra time it would take to speak in full sentences. As far as first impressions went, this was one of the bad ones. Faith didn't like him at all. But she reminded herself that liking someone didn't mean you couldn't learn from them. It did, however, make her nervous about what type of teacher he might turn out to be.

He didn't exactly seem the no-homework-and-class-out-in-the-sunshine type.

"He's out the back," she told him, unable to help the way her brow pinched.

Tobias stepped around her and made his way towards the back door without so much as another word. Faith stared after him, half in a state of shock. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting Tobias to be, but this certainly wasn't it.

She closed the door after him, shutting out the morning light. She nearly tripped over Tobias's stupid bag, but she managed the keep from face-planting into Bobby's linoleum floor. Kicking the bag and sneering at its clang, Faith followed the path Tobias had taken to the back of the house.

She watched through the screen door as Bobby fiddled with his current project, attention half on what he was doing and half on Tobias, who was reclined against the side of the rusted old Honda with his arms crossed, looking hardly perturbed by the snow gathering in his hair.

Faith had enough common sense to know not to go storming out there and injecting herself into their conversation, so stepped back into the kitchen and set about brewing some coffee. Bobby's coffee pot was about as ancient as his never-ending supply of books, but it worked well enough, even if what it produced did tend to resemble tar more than it ever did coffee.

She was just pouring the concentrated caffeine into mugs when the screen door creaked and Tobias stomped back into the kitchen. "Hope you like coffee," she said, making an effort to sound polite as she held out a cup for him to take. He eyed it like he half thought she might have done something to it. "Jesus Christ," she muttered, frustration getting the better of her, "it's not poisoned."

He took the cup with a small glare, taking a cautious sip only to grimace at the foul taste.

"Well, it tastes like shit, but that part's not my fault," she said defensively. "Bobby's coffee machine's an antique." Tobias didn't smile, but he also didn't scowl, so she was counting it as progress. "So, what's the plan?"

He seemed to know what she meant without her having to explain it – a small mercy. He didn't seem the type to appreciate idle chitchat. Which was fortunate, because neither was she.

"Just looking at you, I can see you need to build some muscle. If you want to stand a chance in hell against a rugaru or vampire, you're going to need to be strong enough not to blow away in a good breeze. When you're not building muscle, we'll work on creating a foundation of lore and particulars – the best ways to kill or contain each species of creature – and we'll also work on weapons. You've never fired a gun, so we'll start there and work our way up to close-combat weapons such as knives and tomahawks."

Faith tried not to let herself gape. Tobias just took another gulp of terrible coffee, set it on the counter, and then jerked his head at the doorway.

"We'll start with a run."

She blinked. "But it's snowing."

"Evil doesn't care about the weather."

"You should have that printed on a bumper sticker," she said without missing a beat. Tobias did not look amused, and she wondered if he even knew how to smile. "You got here literally five minutes ago. Don't you want to settle in?"

He arched a single brow. "All I'm hearing is a lot of excuses as to why you can't do this now," he said with such steady truth that she had no clue how to respond. "And if you can't do this now, you certainly won't be able to do it later."

Faith stared at him, contemplative. He had a point, she admitted to herself begrudgingly. "Why'd you agree to come do this for me?" she asked instead, because it felt like an elephant in the room. She'd never been the type to pussyfoot around a topic, and this was no exception.

"I'm not doing it for you," Tobias said scathingly, expression twisted like the mere implication had him roiling with disgust. "It's a job."

"But it's not like you're getting paid."

Now his frown seemed almost troubled. "If you're getting into this for the payout, I think you've chosen the worst industry possible," he said dryly, but there was no hint of amusement in his eyes. He wasn't a wise-cracker, not like her. He was just disillusioned to the world. She wondered how long it would take for her to become the same. "Hunters don't hunt for the money – which is convenient, because we get fuck-all for it."

Even if there was any money in hunting, it wouldn't have been the reason she was doing this now. But he didn't need know that. He hadn't unlocked her tragic backstory yet. Faith cocked her head at him, the picture of innocence. "Then what do they hunt for?"

"Every hunter's got their own reason. If you don't know yours, then this isn't the path for you."

Faith stared at him, silently considering. He just stared back at her, unperturbed by her scrutiny, letting her assess him while he did much the same. She wondered what he saw when he looked at her – did he see a hunter-to-be, or nothing but a young woman full of desperation, loneliness, and a score to settle?

"I know my reason," she finally said, not just because it was what he needed to hear, but also because it was true. She knew her reason deep down to her bones, knew it like she knew the colour of the sky or the way Nate had taken his coffee in the mornings. "Are you sure you know yours?"

Something flickered in Tobias's eyes, but his only response was to jerk his chin towards the stairs leading to the second floor of Bobby's house. "Go get changed into workout clothes and sneakers."

"You were serious about that? It's thirty degrees out." Tobias didn't deign to respond, and Faith cast a frown out of the nearby window at where a thin layer of snow was coating the ground. "But…what about the ice?"

"Excuses."

Gritting her teeth so hard it hurt her jaw, Faith turned abruptly on her heel and stormed from the kitchen, abandoning her God-awful coffee on the counter. She changed into the closest thing to workout gear she owned – a pair of sweatpants, the second-hand sports bra she'd found at that Goodwill with Sam, and a loose sweater she could pull over her bare skin to keep it somewhat protected from the chill. Her sneakers were old and worn and would have absolutely no grip on the slick surface of South Dakota's terrain. But they were comfortable, at least, which she supposed was better than nothing.

To finish she tossed her dark hair into a high ponytail, doing everything she could to ignore the photograph of her and Nate sitting on her bedside table. It tried to get her attention, but she was firm, scraping back her hair and scowling at nothing. She didn't need reminding why this was a good idea – or why it was also a bad one. She just needed to commit.

Tobias was still waiting exactly where she'd left him, as if he hadn't wandered an inch since she left. The only sign he'd moved at all was the lack of coffee in his old, chipped mug. "Satisfactory enough for you?" she demanded a tad hotly, but he hadn't given her very many reasons to be bothered with using her 'polite' voice.

Tobias's only response was a sharp nod of his head.

He led the way to the front door, then paused on the porch and began a quick stretch routine. Faith had never really gravitated towards yoga or Pilates – at first because she couldn't afford classes, and then because she'd figured there were better uses of her time – so she had little-to-no knowledge of how or what to stretch. All she could do was copy Tobias and hope her cluelessness wasn't obvious.

The run started out well enough. Faith didn't have a history of jogging for fun, but she was in good enough shape that it took a good mile for her to start feeling the effects of the exercise. Tobias's gait didn't so much as waver from where he was running a few feet ahead of her, but Faith began to stumble and trip, each inhale of icy air like needles scraping the sensitive insides of her lungs.

Two miles from the salvage yard, Tobias turned off the beaten path. The salted patch of road they'd been running on grew slick with ice. It didn't take very long at all for Faith's foot to catch on a patch and disappear out from underneath her.

At the sound of her body thudding against the road, Tobias finally deigned to glance behind him, finding her sprawled – utterly without dignity – in a patch of black ice. "This was a terrible idea," she said, glaring up at him from the ground.

Tobias was without compassion. "Get up and keep running."

So she did. They kept running, and she kept falling, but she always got back up again, if only out of spite to prove Tobias wrong. Just the way he looked at her made it clear that he didn't think she could do this. She couldn't wait to show him otherwise.

But eventually the needles in her lungs turned into knives and she called out a garbled plea to Tobias as she slowed to an ungraceful stop and curled in on herself, hand pressed to the burning stitch in her abdomen. Tobias walked the distance between them, frowning. "It's barely even been three miles," he said in the same way someone might point out she had food on her face.

She tried to glare at him, but the way she was panting like an overheated dog kind of ruined the effect. "I don't like you," she told him scathingly. It had barely been two hours since they'd met, and already she was beginning to resent him. Which didn't bode well for the rest of their working relationship.

"I'm not here to be liked." Her glare intensified and Tobias remained unbothered. "Are you going to keep going?"

"Is this your idea of training?" she demanded through a scowl, straightening her body despite the ache in her muscles and the sharp pinch in her gut that begged her to curl up and rest. "Working me beyond my limits?"

"You don't yet know your limits."

"Clearly, this is it," she snapped, gesturing to her heaving chest and surely blotchy face.

Tobias barely blinked. "This isn't your limit."

"And how exactly do you know that, sensei?"

He took a step closer, blue eyes like driftwood fire in the sunlight. "Someone died, didn't they?" he asked. Suddenly, it wasn't so much that she couldn't catch her breath as it was that she couldn't breathe at all. "I don't know who, or how, but someone close to you was killed by something, and you want to hunt it."

She kept her face expressionless, but it wasn't without effort. "Who told you that?"

"Nobody," he shrugged. "I'm good at reading in between the lines."

Faith said nothing, glaring at him with daggers in her eyes.

"I'm not going to go easy on you," Tobias informed her. "I'm not going to treat you with training wheels and kiddie pools. I'm throwing you straight into the deep end. A hunter is a sword, and a sword is forged in fire."

"Jesus, what are you, a goddamn fortune cookie?"

Tobias's jaw clicked, but otherwise he didn't react. "You want to do this? You want to be a hunter? Fine. I'll make you one. But I don't half-arse anything. If I'm going to make you a hunter, I'm going to make you the best bloody hunter this world's ever seen. And then, just maybe, you might have a shot at getting through the other side of this alive."

There was something in his eyes, though she couldn't put her finger on what. Faith stared at him, weighing him just as he'd weighed her. She thought, suddenly, that it wasn't just general disdain or anger in his eyes, but rather a bone-deep sadness that echoed and rang through him like a second pulse.

"Who did you lose?" she wondered.

And Tobias's walls shot up faster than those safety screens at a bank. "I said I'm not here to be liked. I'm also not here to be your friend. But I will forge you into a hunter. You've just got to trust that my methods are the best way to get you there," he said it in a hard, unwavering voice.

But Faith could read between the lines, too. Clearly, the topic of whoever it was he'd lost was not up for discussion – now or any time soon.

She pursed her lips. "You're not going to go easy on me for even a second, are you?"

"I don't believe in wasting time," said Tobias simply. "Every free moment we have, we'll be working. And if you really did lose someone close to you, then keep them at the forefront of your mind. Let your pain to fuel you. It might be the only thing strong enough to keep you going."

Faith wished could say she didn't see his point, but she did. She saw it with such startling clarity that it nearly knocked her on her ass all over again. She'd been spoiled this last week with Bobby – nothing to fill her time but odd household chores and hours of leisurely reading by the fire. It had been a small slice of leisure she hadn't noticed at the time.

But she had to do this now, and she had to do it properly. Not only for Nate's sake, but for her own. For whatever reason, these demons were after her, and who knew what extent she was going to have to go to, to be able to protect herself? To keep herself alive? This wasn't just a hobby she was taking on; this was a lifestyle change.

This was a full-time job. Survival usually was, and though it was a lesson she'd learned long ago, never had it been shouted so loudly in her ear.

"Are you prepared to commit to doing this?" Tobias asked her, and she realised she'd been silent for far too long. But he didn't look annoyed – he seemed to…understand. As if he, too, had once made the same decision she was making right now.

Faith's mouth pulled down in a frown. "The last commitment I made…" she began, fighting past the tightness in her throat, "…it ended in a whole lotta pain."

"No guarantees this one won't either," he warned her. "But at least you'll be doing something."

He had a point with that, too. Faith knew the time for erring was over with. She had to put everything she had into this, or she wasn't going to come out the other side of it as anything more than a washout with muscle tone.

For the first time in her life, she felt like she had a purpose; a path to follow. So many years she'd just wandered from one place to another, directionless. There was a certain relief, she realised, in having a path before her. In having a purpose in life; a goal to work towards. And if what she'd just recently learned was to be believed – hunting was literally in her blood.

So, with a renewed determination in her heart, Faith thrust out a hand in Tobias's direction. A flicker of surprise danced across his face before his expression shuttered and locked out any hint of emotion. "Alliance?" she offered awkwardly.

He eyed her hand much like he'd eyed the coffee that morning – like he was expecting there to be a joy buzzer stuck to the inside of her palm.

"I'll submit to your torture methods if you agree to try to be nice," she explained, because apparently this guy didn't speak 'Faith' the way Sam and Dean so quickly had. At the word 'nice', Tobias's expression twisted like he'd bitten into a lemon. "I'm not asking you to make me breakfast in bed and braid my hair at night, Tobias," she assured him with a huff. "I'm asking you to try not to be such a jackass. Because if I'm going to be working myself half to death, it'll be nice not to do it with an asshole calling all the shots."

He considered her proposal carefully, eyes narrowed like a lawyer perusing the verbal contract before him, scanning it for loopholes and typos. Finally, reluctantly, he took her extended hand and shook it once.

"Great," she smiled sunnily. "What now, Sensei?"

"Now we run back to the salvage yard," Tobias told her, still stiff as a board, but at least the sour look had melted from his face, replaced by something a little less tortured. "Try and keep up."

And then he was running, heading back in the direction of Bobby's place. Faith had time only to suck in one icy breath before taking off after him. And when a stitch began to burn in her side and her lungs felt like they'd been coated in kerosene and lit on fire, she did as Tobias had suggested and put Nate at the forefront of her mind.

She pictured his smiling face, the way his hair had been so dark that it looked nearly blue in the sunlight. She thought about how he'd smelled, and how he'd laughed and always, always spoken with his hands flapping about. She thought about how those demons had hurt him, and about how they'd probably enjoyed it, too – relished every evil, horrible second.

And she thought that she would very much like the chance to make them pay.

When they arrived back at Bobby's house, Faith was covered in a thin sheen of sweat that seemed to turn to frost in the cool temperatures of the South Dakota winter. They kicked the slushy water from their shoes and headed inside. Bobby was in from the yard now, sat at his desk, poring over some thick tome with a fountain pen in hand.

He looked up as the two of them stepped into the room, eyes flickering from Tobias to Faith and back again. Then he drawled, "Well, you certainly don't waste any time, do ya?"

Tobias's only response was to walk into the kitchen and fill a glass with water from the tap. "I'm gonna head upstairs and shower," Faith said from where she was stood close to the roaring fire, letting its heat slowly defrost her.

"Dress comfortably," called Tobias from the kitchen doorway. "I'm going to assess your combat skills next."

She swallowed back a sarcastic comment and trudged her way up the stairs. The shower was blissfully hot, and though she could have stayed under the spray forever, she found herself unexpectedly eager for the rest of the day. Combat training – this was the start of it all, the day she learned what everyone around her seemed to already know: how to protect herself.

Dressing in her only pair of leggings and an old teeshirt, she braided her hair out of her face and gulped down water from the bathroom tap. She could hear Tobias and Bobby's low voices speaking as she descended the stairs, but they were too quiet for her to hear what they were saying, and they stopped the moment she appeared in the doorway.

"You can use the basement," said Bobby briskly. "There ain't any mats down there, though, so take it easy."

"Will do," said Tobias. Faith wasn't entirely sure she believed him. He didn't seem the type to go easy on her just because there were no safety mats to fall onto. He seemed like the type to think cuts and bruises formed character. He turned and made his way down the stairs leading to the basement Faith had only visited once or twice before.

Faith watched him go, a little bit afraid. "He really is all business," she murmured to Bobby, who huffed his usual, husky laugh.

"He's a good man, Faith," he told her, and he even sounded like he believed it. "And an even better hunter. He's been through a lot."

She arched a brow. "Haven't we all?"

Bobby's expression was placating as he waved her away. Faith sighed, reluctantly following Tobias's footsteps and trudging down the stairs leading to the basement.

It was huge and usually filled wall-to-wall with clutter. To her surprise, the bulk of it had been moved to the sides, leaving a large empty space in the middle of the room for them to work. And just as Bobby had said, there were no mats to soften the hard concrete of the floor. She had the terrible feeling that, come evening, she was going to be more bruise than skin.

"So, what do you know?" Tobias asked her, his stare hard from where he stood in the centre of the room, arms crossed over his chest. "Have you ever taken a self-defence class?"

"No," she told him with a scoff – as if she'd had either the time, or the means, to attend something so official. "But I can handle myself well enough," she added because it was true. Growing up, she'd spent more time on the streets than she had in houses. Faith was no stranger when it came to fighting for her life – or rather, for what little she had in her pockets that day.

Tobias looked – surprise, surprise – unimpressed. "By fighting dirty?"

She arranged her expression into the picture of innocence. "Is there any other way to fight?"

He scowled. "Hair pulling and eye-gouging will only get you so far."

"Don't forget hits to the crotch," she piped. "That's my go-to move for perverts."

"Demons are not your common street pervert," said Tobias with a straight face, as if it wasn't an absolutely batshit sentence to come from his mouth. "You need to know how to throw a punch – a real punch – and also how to take one. We'll start with your form."

Faith swallowed back another wisecrack comment and shifted her stance, telling him without words that she was ready. And so they began.

Four hours later, Faith was so tired she could barely stay standing. She had bruises on her knees and hips from her constant contact with the floor, and her ears was ringing from a blow to the head that Tobias said was an accident, but she didn't really believe. She should have known that what 'not going easy on her' really meant was 'give her absolute hell'.

She limped up the stairs to find Bobby waiting with Chinese takeout for dinner. She and Tobias had been so lost in their sparring downstairs, Faith hadn't even heard the delivery guy come and go.

"You look like hell," said Bobby as he pushed a carton of sweet-and-sour chicken across the small tabletop towards her. She collapsed in the seat opposite him, and despite her aching limbs pulled the carton closer, digging in with the supplied pair of chopsticks.

"Tobias is an asshole," she muttered around a mouthful of chicken. The words, although rude, were said without spite, which was probably why Bobby looked so bewildered. He turned to Tobias, who had taken his seat with a great deal more grace than she had, quietly tucking into the plate piled high with dumplings.

"I take it things went well, then," said Bobby dryly.

"Faith's got good instincts, and she's not as weak as I thought she'd be, so it might not take quite as long as I thought to train her up," said Tobias without looking up from his meal.

Faith frowned. "Thank you?"

"I've got a list of books I want you to read – Bobby, I'm sure you have a copy of each of them here somewhere. They're fairly common texts. You can rest for the night while you read," said Tobias.

It sounded awful, but also miles better than being left alone with her thoughts. "I've been getting through this book I found in Bobby's library on ancient Norse mythology-"

"Not important," said Tobias flatly. She stopped talking and stared at him pointedly. He seemed to realise he was being what she would call a jackass, and remembering their pact out in the snow, bit back sigh. "I just mean that you should be focusing on topics more relevant to north American folklore and myth. You're far more likely to come across a wendigo or skin-walker than a Fossegrimen."

He had a point at that, not even she could deny it. "Give me the list of books," she said. "I'll get started tonight."

And she did. After they ate, Tobias disappeared upstairs for a shower and Bobby went to bed early, claiming the short days made him tired earlier. The fire remained lit, and with a thick tome in her lap conveniently titled A Guide to the Undead, Faith curled up in front of its crackling warmth and began to read.

She recalled skimming a long chapter on vampires, but then everything faded into nothing – that is, until a firm hand shook her from her slumber and she shot awake like she'd been shocked.

"Faith," said Tobias's voice, and she peered up at him through bleary eyes. The fire – which had been roaring last she'd seen it – was now little more than embers. "Sorry to wake you," he said, as polite as he was awkward. "You're on my bed."

He was right – she'd fallen asleep reading on the couch that doubled as a cot for overnight guests. Faith was quick to stumble to her feet. "I'll head up to bed," she said around a yawn that couldn't be helped.

"Be up by seven, okay?" he called after her. When she cast him an incredulous look he seemed to nearly smile, but bit it back just in time. Heaven forbid he be seen looking pleasant. "A run first thing in the morning does wonders. Trust me."

And despite it all, she did.

---

Several weeks passed them by, and before Faith had even realised what happened, the three of them had settled into an easy, familiar routine.

Faith and Tobias would go for a run first thing in the morning. At least four miles – sometimes six if they were feeling particularly energetic – and then when they got back Bobby usually had some sort of breakfast waiting. Bobby would then wander out into the salvage yard to work, and Faith would head down to the basement with Tobias, where they'd work on her strength and fighting skills.

By the end of the first week, Faith could throw a truly wicked punch and was able to successfully dodge most of Tobias's slower hits. By the end of the second week, her body had stopped aching so much after every session, and she'd even stopped grumbling about all the sit-ups Tobias made her do during the day.

"You're making great progress," he told her on the fourteenth morning of their training. They'd just come in from their daily run, and Tobias was enjoying some fancy tea he'd brought with him to Bobby's while Faith was chugging sugary coffee like it was air.

She lowered her mug enough to cock an eyebrow at him in question. "Why do I feel like there's a 'but' coming?" she asked, stomach full of lead.

They'd gotten used to each other, over these weeks. His grouchy personality grew familiar, and he became used to her smart mouth and penchant for trouble. They didn't socialise outside of training, but that wasn't surprising, considering their days were almost exclusively filled with it. Bobby would sometimes warn them not to work themselves into the ground – her in her efforts to learn how to hunt and Tobias in (what she assumed was) his attempt to escape whatever tragedy he'd come from.

Neither of them listened.

"No 'but'," Tobias assured her in the now. "I was just thinking that we might skip our workout and instead head out the back of the salvage yard and start your weapons training."

She stared at him a moment. "You're actually going to let me near a gun?"

"Against my own better judgement," he grumbled. She grinned at him, wide and a little bit wicked. Tobias ignored her, returning his attention to the paper he was scanning – just as he did every single morning. She'd asked him why he even read the damned thing ("It's not 1995 anymore, Tobias. Watch TV like the rest of us.") but he'd yet to give her a straight answer.

She thought maybe it was just an English thing – like all the tea and that sweater-vest she'd caught him wearing once – but then she'd noticed Bobby did it, too. Some sort of hunter thing, then? But why? She'd tried asking, but Tobias just fobbed her off and changed the subject.

They finished breakfast and pulled on jackets before heading out the back door.

Tobias led the way out into the salvage yard, which she'd yet to properly explore – having not had the time. Faith followed him as he wound his way around the graveyard of cars. It had rained the night before, the water washing away what little snow remained. It was still cold, but not quite as bone-chilling as it had been before. As April slowly came to a close, the days grew warmer. Faith was glad for it – she'd always liked the warmer months of the year. There was something so restricting about winter clothes – all scarves and gloves and coats. She missed the tank tops and jean shorts of summer.

The sun was shining, buttery and warm despite the deep puddles of icy water and mud that surrounded them. "Wait here," Tobias ordered her as they reached the very back of Bobby's yard, where there was a large area of empty space.

Faith watched as Tobias began pulling beer cans out of the bag he'd brought with him, eyebrow raised as he lined them up along the roof of a rusted, hollowed-out Toyota. When he circled back around to meet her where she stood, she shot his own unimpressed stare back at him.

"We're going to shoot at beer cans?" she asked dryly. "What are we, twelve?"

Tobias sent her his signature scowl. "Would you just shut up and listen?"

She held up her hands in surrender, watching as he pulled his gun from where it was tucked into the waistband of his jeans. She remained silent as he ran through all the different parts of the gun – how they worked and why they were important.

Finally, once he was done with that, he held it out to her expectantly. Somehow surprised, Faith stared at the outstretched gun without moving.

He huffed impatiently. "Faith, you have to actually touch the gun to be able to shoot it."

The look she gave was scathing, but she said nothing as she took the gun. It was heavier than she'd expected it to be, its weight significant and impossible to ignore. She wondered if it was all the metal, or if it were the invisible symbolism of what she carried – a weapon with the power to end a life with little more than the squeeze of a finger. Despite all that, however, it felt strangely…right. Like she'd been born with a gun in her hands but hadn't remembered until that very moment.

Faith didn't realise she'd been staring down at the gun in silence until Tobias said her name aloud. She looked up, blinking in surprise. His eyes were narrowed. "You're sure about this?" he asked, and she wondered what her face must look like, to garner that question for the first time since they'd started this whole thing.

It offended her, so in response, Faith cocked the gun just like he'd shown her, flicked off the safety with only a slight fumble, aimed as best she knew how and squeezed the damn trigger.

The shot flew wide by only a few inches, hitting the top of the car the cans were balanced across and ricocheting off somewhere to the right. The kickback from the gun jolted her shoulder and the bang from the shot echoed and rang in her head. She blinked, frozen where she stood, her pulse suddenly beating something furious, the feeling of it thrumming in her aching shoulder joint.

"Huh," said Toby, strolling casually forwards, like he had all the time in the world. He reached the hollowed-out car, reaching out to run his fingertip along the dent her shot had made in its frame. It was mere inches from the can – if she'd aimed just a fraction to the left, she'd have hit it dead on.

"That was good, right?" Faith asked, eyes bright.

Toby turned back to her with a frown. "I suppose there's something to be said for beginner's luck," he said, strolling back towards her. "Again."

She aimed, this time taking even more care to aim – which paid off in spades.

The can she was aiming for shot up into the air with a metallic ping, hovering up above their eye line before falling down onto the dirt with a clang. Faith turned to look at Toby, a wide grin on her face. His eyes were narrowed with suspicion that she tried not to take to heart.

"Oh, yes, this whole thing is a giant con," she drawled, utterly sarcastic. "I'm actually an expert marksman and I'm yanking your chain."

Toby didn't look amused. "Well, are you?"

"Of course not!" she said, offended by his need to even ask. "I've never touched a gun before today. Why in the hell would I lie about that?"

Toby said nothing, staring at her hard. Faith said nothing either, meeting his stare with her chin tilted upwards in defiance, just daring him to question her again. Finally, Toby sighed. "I suppose you're just…unusually gifted," he said, brow furrowed as he turned back to their row of cans and gestured for her to keep shooting.

"You could make it sound less like I have some terrible disease," she sniped, aiming and shooting again. She was off by a few inches again, but she didn't mind.

There was something thrilling about shooting a gun. It felt monumental; like a strange sort of christening. It felt somehow right; like she'd been born holding a gun, but it had been taken from her, and now she was finally taking back her birthright.

"It's no small thing, firing a gun for the first time," Toby told her quietly, like he understood what she was feeling. She wondered if he truly did, or only thought he did. "It can…rattle a person."

"Yeah," she agreed, deciding to omit just how right it had felt to fire the gun. She did feel rattled, but not in a bad way. Instead, she felt…alive.

"Come on," he said patiently. "Go again."

Over these weeks, Faith had learnt that, despite his grumpy exterior, Tobias was actually a pretty good teacher. Faith took to shooting like a baby animal instinctively knew how to walk. It might have been strange, but she told herself if was simply because this was in her blood. Her mom had been a hunter, and now she was going to be one too. She was born for this, so it made perfect sense that she'd be able to shoot a gun with near perfect accuracy on her first try.

…Didn't it?

"How old were you?" Faith asked as she reloaded the pistol under Tobias' watchful eye. She wanted something to distract her – and maybe distract Toby, too – from the peculiar nature of her sudden skill.

"Hm?" he hummed, leant against a nearby car and handing her the bullets to slide into the cylinder.

"When you first fired a gun. How old were you?"

Tobias was quiet for a long few moments, long enough that Faith thought he was simply going to ignore the question altogether. But then he spoke, and when he did, his voice was full of quiet reflection. "Seven."

Faith snapped the cylinder into place, flicked off the safety, then shut one eye and aimed at the new line of beer cans stacked before her. "You've always been a hunter, then?"

Tobias shrugged. "It's a family business."

She squeezed the trigger, and the beer can on the far left flew off the car with a resounding bang. Faith nearly smiled. "That's what Sam and Dean called it," she said, the words lost to her own ears over the ringing from the gunshot.

"It's like that for most of us," Tobias admitted, arms crossed as he watched her aim for the next can. "It's not exactly the sort of business you just fall into."

"With me being the exception, I s'pose."

"You haven't fallen into anything," he told her, and she looked away from her task to stare at him. "You've walked into this with your eyes wide open." Faith said nothing, staring at him with her gun still outstretched. Tobias gave a half smile, the closest thing to a real one she'd ever seen him make. "I know I've been working you hard these last few weeks, but you've not complained once. Makes me think you're glad for the distraction."

"My boyfriend was brutally murdered and somehow it was all my fault," she said, flat and without inflection. "Of course I'm glad for the distraction."

She shot at another beer can and it flew backwards as the bullet pierced its metal hull. "Yeah," murmured Tobias, so quiet she nearly missed it over the ringing in her ears. "Me too."

They took a break from shooting practise and while Faith assumed they'd go inside for lunch, Tobias handed her a knife instead. She held it up, an eyebrow raised in question.

"Knife-throwing," he explained. "It's an important skill to have. Might save your life, one day." There was a thick tree stump nearby, tall enough that it came to about Faith's waist. She guessed Bobby had never got around to pulling it out of the ground, so he'd just left it to rot. Tobias gestured to it. "We're not going inside until you can sink a blade into the wood."

"We're gonna be out here all goddamn night."

His only reply was, "Throw it so I can see your form and tell you what you're doing wrong."

"Your favourite pastime," she muttered.

Tobias didn't bother to respond to that, but she thought she saw him smile from the corner of her eye. Faith gripped the knife he'd given her – the blade was smooth and sharp, not serrated in any way, but the handle was chipped. It seemed old and well-loved. She wondered when she'd make the transition from treasuring things like jewellery and photographs to treasuring knives and sidearms and other crude instruments of death, like all the other hunters in her life.

"You ever meet them?" she asked as she assessed the weight of the blade in her hand.

"Who?"

"Sam and Dean," she said, realising it probably hadn't been obvious who she meant.

"Never personally. Came across John once or twice, but his sons were never with him when we did."

She paused, knowing where she treaded next had to be with caution. "We being you and your partner, Oliver?"

Immediately Tobias' walls shot up and his expression hardened like concrete. "Just throw the bloody knife."

Faith got the message loud and clear: Oliver was not a topic up for discussion. Now or anytime soon. She lined up her throw, taking her time to try to aim with intent, then hurled the knife at the tree stump. It cut through the air, hurtling towards the stump, only for the handle to collide with the wood and it to fall uselessly to the ground.

"Well, that was underwhelming," she said dryly, frowning down at the knife where it lay in a shallow pool of mud. She looked up at Tobias, who suddenly looked tired and drawn. "This is the part where you tell me everything I did wrong."

Once again Tobias didn't smile, but it came close.

It took a lot longer than it had with the gun, but eventually – after hours of trial and error – Faith was able to half-sink a blade into the wood of the tree stump. It wasn't perfect, but she suspected Tobias was just getting hungry and wanted to be done with the day. The sun was just disappearing below the horizon when they trudged back into the house, scraping the mud from their shoes and shucking off their jackets.

"You can take breaks, you know?" piped Bobby from where he was sat at the small dining table, halfway through a dinner of pizza from that place in town he favoured. "S'not like you've got guns to your heads."

"She's improving," Tobias made it sound like giving her the compliment physically pained him. But after two weeks with near-constant contact, Faith was able to smirk. She was beginning to get used to his reluctant praise and halfhearted gripes. She was even almost beginning to like them. She picked up a slice of pizza – triple cheese – and took an enthusiastic bite. "With some practise, I'd say she might even turn out to be a decent shot."

She rolled her head towards him with a sugary smile. "You say the sweetest things."

Bobby rolled his eyes at their predictable banter. Over the fortnight they'd trained, he'd been busy with his own work – both at the salvage yard and in the hunting community. Sometimes, when she and Tobias broke for lunch, she'd get the chance to answer one of Bobby's many phones and pretend to be an agent from homeland security or a high-ranking agent in the FBI, in order to corroborate a working hunter's lies.

"Listen, Faith," Bobby began as they ate. "I managed to get ahold of my contact in the Riverton PD," he said seriously. Faith looked up at him in confused, and he clarified, "The town where your mom died, over in Wyoming."

Immediately, like a switch had been flicked, all the levity was sucked from the room. Faith swallowed a mouthful of pizza that suddenly tasted like ash on her tongue.

Even Tobias fell quiet, attention fixed on Bobby. Faith hadn't told him about her mom, or the specifics of the attack in Baltimore, or even about the demons hunting her for reasons unknown. But given how focused he was on Bobby, Faith figured at some point over the last two weeks, Bobby had probably spilled the beans. Traitor.

"And?" she asked, hating how breathless she sounded.

"And the files are there, but he's already got an official warning for improper handling of evidence – another favour I owe him for," Bobby added somewhat guiltily. "Either way, he can't risk being seen with the evidence, or even copying it – so he definitely can't send it up this way. Which means-"

"We're going to have to go get it," Tobias finished with a nod.

"Think you can handle it?"

Tobias shrugged. "I'm not the one you should be worried about."

As one, they turned to look at her. Faith stared back at them wordlessly. It took a few moments for her to find her voice. "You want me to go to Wyoming?"

"Not just yet," said Bobby with a shake of his head. Faith was man enough to admit she was confused, a frown pinching her brow. "Well, for all we know so far, you've been marked for death by something," he told her in his usual, no-nonsense way. "It would be stupid for us to cart you across state lines when you barely know how to shoot a gun."

Faith opened her mouth to argue, but Bobby spoke over her.

"Those files aren't going anywhere, Faith," he said gruffly. "And neither is this mystery; or the danger. You need to focus on learning all you can about this world before you wade into deeper waters. The last thing any of us want is you going off half-cocked and getting yourself killed."

And Faith found she didn't have a good argument in response that. "Well," she said as she picked up another slice of pizza and tried to keep from scowling like a three-year-old told they couldn't have ice cream for dinner, "maybe you have a point there. But I can't hide away in this house forever. They'll find me eventually."

"Of course," said Bobby, sounding annoyed that it had to be said at all. "But they'll have a hell of a time getting in. This place is supernatural Fort Knox. Or, as close as you'll ever get."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" she mused. "You're right," she added, allowing herself only a small sigh as she did. "I need to know more. I need to make sure I'm ready."

"Tobias will know," Bobby said with a nod in Tobias' direction. Her Mr. Miyagi looked up from his pizza with a furrowed brow. "He's been doing this a long time – you can trust he'll know when it's time to spread your wings."

Something occurred to her, and Faith picked at a stray piece of pepperoni to avoid looking at either of them. "What if I'm never ready?" she asked, trying to make it sound casual, like this wasn't the only thing she had left in this world to cling to. "What if I never get up to scratch?"

"Look, Faith," Bobby began, putting his beer down on the table with a quiet thunk, "the only way to figure out why these demons are after you – and to give you a chance in hell at stopping them – is to see these files in person and figure out what the hell actually happened in that barn with your mom way back when. You know that. You'll be ready. Maybe not tomorrow, but eventually, you will be."

Faith knew he was right. It didn't matter that she was afraid; her fear should be secondary. All that mattered was getting the answers to all the questions swimming in her head, unreachable and unanswerable – so far. She didn't know anything about her mom, really, other than that she'd been a hunter and she'd died a horrible death. A death that, for some reason, was still haunting her daughter to this very day. Faith didn't want to live her life cowering in the shadows. She wanted answers, and she wanted vengeance. And, most of all, she wanted freedom.

She finished off the last of her pizza and turned to Tobias expectantly. "Should we head back out?" she asked, because suddenly all she wanted to do was become the best she could be. All she wanted to do was be good enough to kill anything that tripped into her path. To be worthy of the woman she'd always been meant to become.

Tobias glanced out the window. "It's dark."

"So?"

"So, target practice usually goes a lot smoother when you can actually see the target."

Faith frowned, looking out the window too and thinking to herself that it was awfully inconvenient of the sun to only stay in the sky for twelve or so hours at a time. Imagine what she could get done with a handful more hours in the day.

"If you're that keen to train, go down to the basement and run through a workout," Tobias added, seeming to sense she wasn't going to be able to relax, and that he'd be doing them all a favour by giving her something to do.

Faith tried not to look too eager, but she lasted maybe a full minute before she gave up on pretending to be patient and escaped down to the basement. She flicked on the light as she went, illuminating the small space they used to work out and spar in. Bobby told her the other day that he'd ordered safety mats online – they should be arriving within the week.

Faith was halfway to the punching bag in the far corner when she realised she had no tape for her hands. She climbed back up the stairs, intent on asking Tobias where he'd put the new roll, only to freeze in the doorway at the sound of her own name.

"…Faith's definitely eager – perhaps a little too eager," Tobias was telling Bobby in an undertone.

"Can you blame her?" countered Bobby. "When bad things happen and you think it's just random bad luck, the world can seem senseless. Learning there's something to actually fight…it gives a person purpose."

"Speaking from experience?"

"You know I am."

There was a moment's pause.

"She's good, though," Tobias told Bobby, so quiet Faith nearly missed it entirely. "It makes sense that it would be in her blood."

"You might try telling her that," said Bobby dryly.

"I don't want it going to her head," Tobias replied, and despite herself, Faith smiled. It was a small thing, barely there at all, but hearing Tobias admit that she was actually good at something made warmth bloom and gleam in her chest. "She doesn't need me praising her. She needs me training her."

"Boy, anyone ever tell you that you treat hunting like it's the goddamn army?"

Faith's barely-there smile grew wider. Bobby's gruff, no-nonsense attitude had grown on her over the last few weeks. She'd come to not only expect, but look forwards to his flat quips and cool logic. She thought sometimes, in the safety of her own head, that if she'd ever known her dad, she'd have wanted him to be something like Bobby Singer.

"Isn't it?" replied Tobias. "Are we not all just soldiers in a war?"

He was getting philosophical again, so Faith figured the gossip about her talents as a hunter were over – but then Bobby said something that made her holey heart fall to her feet.

"Do you think she can do it?" he asked Tobias, this time so quiet that Faith had to inch closer to the doorway in order to hear. "Think she has the stomach to actually…end something's life? Demon or not, it's no easy thing."

It took a few moments for Tobias to respond, and Faith told herself that she wasn't holding her breath because she was anxious to hear his answer – she was just hoping they wouldn't realise she was eavesdropping.

"I think anyone can become a killer with the right motivation," Tobias said softly. "And I think Faith has more motivation than most." He audibly sighed. "She wants retribution. Far be it from me to keep it from her."

Bobby seemed to sense the need for a change of conversation, and began to talk to Tobias about somebody named Garth and a case concerning succubi happening out east. Faith let out a silent breath and tiptoed her way back down the stairs, making sure to skip the ones she knew would creak.

She tried not to think too hard on their words – their halfhearted speculation on whether or not she was up to the task she'd so stubbornly taken on. As Faith went through some warm-up stretches then began a gruelling set of sit-ups, she reminded herself – over and over – of all the reasons she was doing this.

Because Tobias was right; demons or not, she was still training to be a killer. She was still training so she could successfully end the lives of other living beings in this world (although she could admit the definition of the word 'living' in this context was somewhat blurred). So she could end things that existed – what right did she have to play God?

But then she remembered the feeling in her gut when she'd flicked on the light that night and seen the state of the place she'd called home. And the crude letters painted in Nate's lifeblood like it were nothing more than a child's finger paint. Faith reminded herself that it didn't matter that these things were technically lifeforms – the only thing that did matter was that they had killed Nate, and for some reason, they were trying to kill her.

And she owed it to herself not to let them succeed.

---

And so the weeks wore on, and Faith trained – to use Bobby's words – like someone was holding a gun to her head. She was single-minded in her goals. She would build the strength to convince Tobias she was ready to leave the relative safety of Bobby's property and head into the great wide world.

She began to spend more time working with weaponry than without it. She was good with her hands, but she really excelled when she had a weapon to add to her strength.

"Nine times out of ten, you're going to have a weapon on you when you face something," Tobias told her one day when she asked if she should be working more on hand-to-hand techniques.

"What if I get attacked in my sleep?" she countered.

"You should always sleep with a gun under your pillow."

"What if I'm a restless sleeper?"

"No exceptions."

"Okay, well, what if I've just gotten out of the shower?" she asked, going through the now-familiar motions of disassembling her pistol, barely needing to look to get it done. Tobias had made her do it over and over in the four weeks they'd known each other, enough so that the movements were automatic.

"Faith," said Tobias with one of his long-suffering sighs.

"What, you expect me to take a Glock into the shower with me?" she asked, reassembling the weapon with just as much ease. "It'll get wet, and then it'll be no use to no one."

"Actually, that's a myth," he told her without looking up from the barrel of a shotgun he was meticulously cleaning out. "They're purely mechanical devices, so largely, water won't affect-"

"Forty-two seconds!" cried Faith, holding up the stopwatch with a triumphant grin. "Personal best."

Tobias remained unimpressed. "You'd do even better if you stopped chatting while you worked," he said dryly. Faith made a face but otherwise didn't comment.

And he was right. The next day, she'd cut down her assembly time to nearly half that, and a week after that it was as much second nature as breathing. Once Tobias was confident enough in her ability not to shoot herself in the foot, he let her practise alone. They still ran every morning, and did other workouts throughout the day, but for the most part her afternoons were filled with her own study and target practise. Then, come night, she would take to the basement with Tobias, where they would whale on one another until they were too tired to stay upright.

Things between her and Tobias were strained in the way they always were – Tobias just generally a grouchy guy and Faith with a mouth too smart for most pleasant conversations – but things began to get easier. Faith grew used to Tobias' flat, deadpan way of speaking, and he got used to her sharp tongue and penchant for working herself into the ground. She might almost say they … complimented one another. Faith's wit and energy making up for Tobias' stretching silences and tendency to nap throughout the day.

But through it all, Faith could tell Tobias was hurting. Maybe she was just good at reading people, or maybe she recognised the same grief she saw in his eyes as the grief aching from within her own chest, a constant companion of pain and guilt that drove her to keep training, keep working, keep fighting, until the night came and she was so tired she could do nothing but fall asleep, too exhausted for even the nightmares to reach her.

On the day that marked six weeks of her training, Faith was making a sandwich for lunch when she happened to catch sight of the date on Bobby's dollar-store, tear-away calendar hung up beside the refrigerator.

June twenty-ninth.

The significance of the date wasn't lost on Faith, who felt rather like someone had turned the floor beneath her feet to water. She stared at that date, one word and two otherwise insignificant numbers, and tried to catch her breath.

That was how Bobby found her. She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but her neck felt stiff and her knuckles ached from how hard she was gripping the butter knife she held in her right hand. She wasn't even aware Bobby was there until she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder.

She acted on instinct, both old and new, as she whirled on him with the butter knife. Thankfully, Bobby was still rather spry for his age and managed to catch her wrist before she could sink the dull blade of the knife into the exposed skin at his throat.

"What the hell are you doing, ya idgit?" he demanded, eyes darting between the knife and her wide eyes.

"Sorry," she said numbly. The knife clattered noisily to the floor.

Tobias appeared in the doorway, looking ruffled and tired, but mostly just confused. "What happened?"

Faith winced and looked at Bobby, but he didn't seem angry. Exasperated, maybe, but not angry. "That's what I'd like to know," he said calmly.

"Just tired," Faith muttered, shaking her wrist free of Bobby's grip and turning to the door leading into the salvage yard. "I'll be out back," she added, only barely paying attention, pushing her way out into the early summer heat before either man could say a word to stop her.

The salvage yard was full of old trash to shoot at, and it only took Faith five minutes to gather a small haul. She lined up a dozen or so cans atop the skeleton of an old Honda and pulled out her gun, staring at the pistol without really seeing it.

Had Nate ever shot a gun? She didn't know. There were a lot of things she didn't know about Nate, Faith had realised these last weeks. Not that he'd been keeping anything from her, but just that she'd never asked. You didn't tend to, when you thought you had all the time in the world. You didn't think you only had today. You assumed – like all the naïve do – that you have all the time in the world.

But now he was gone forever, and Faith didn't know whether he'd ever shot a gun, or what his opinion on musicals were. She didn't know whether he'd ever played any sports, or whether he had a favourite book. Suddenly, all she could remember about him was everything that she didn't know, and the not-knowing felt almost worse than the grief itself.

She'd fired the gun before she'd even realised she was aiming it, and with a bang the can closest to her flew high into the air, twirling like crazy before it came rushing down and hit a nearby car with a resounding clang.

It felt good, she realised, to shoot at something. Not that she'd never noticed the satisfaction of it before, but now the gaping wound in her chest was so wide and raw, there was an extra edge to it. The way the sound of it echoed around the salvage yard made it hard to hear her own thoughts, and the way the kickback from the gun rattled up her arm, settling in that hole, filling it with something violent, if only for a moment.

So Faith fired again. And again and again.

She didn't feel time passing at all. She didn't realise it was even getting dark until she heard noisy footsteps crunching in the nearby gravel and came out of her blind stupor with a blink.

Tobias was walking towards her, making more sound than strictly necessary in an attempt to keep from getting a hole blown in his head. He had his hands held up as if in surrender, one of them clutching a bottle of something dark and rich.

Faith turned back to the old beer cans lining the car before her, firing twice, only managing to make of the shots. Tobias was quiet as she flicked on the safety and slipped the gun into her waistband, walking over to the skeleton of a car and gently running her fingertips along the grooves she'd made in its dusty surface.

"You've been out here half the day," Tobias finally said. Faith didn't look up. She didn't even acknowledge that he'd spoken. But he didn't seem offended by her rudeness; now that she thought about it, he never really did. "Want a drink?"

He crossed the space between them and held out the bottle. A glance down told her it was bourbon, the cheap kind – because hunting didn't exactly pay well – but still good. She hesitated only a moment, and only then because she didn't want to seem too desperate, and then Faith grabbed the bottle, flicking the cap off in an effortless move and throwing back a swig of the hard liquor inside.

Tobias very wisely didn't comment. He just leant against the side of the hollowed-out car next to her, tucking his hands into his pockets and turning his stare up at the sky above them.

It was only one day into summer and already the heat was stifling. Faith found herself missing the snow. She'd never been a fan of summer, and she wasn't the type to tolerate the heat very well. Nate used to tell her that the only place she'd be truly comfortable was Alaska. She winced and threw back another mouthful of liquor.

"Wanna talk about it?" Tobias asked after some time had passed. The sun had fully set, the stars visible now, sprinkled across the sky like glitter. Out here, it was so beautiful at night.

Nate had always loved the night sky. He had a telescope back in their apartment, but being in the middle of a city as large as Baltimore, the light pollution was terrible. He rarely saw anything interesting. He'd been talking about planning a trip out west, where they could camp under the stars and he swore to teach her all the best constellations. They'd never made their trip – always putting it off for one reason or another. Funny how none of those reasons seemed to matter at all, in hindsight.

"No," she told Tobias flatly.

"Tough," he replied, just as flat. "It isn't safe to bottle it all up. Next time, you might stab Bobby for real."

"That was an accident," she said hoarsely – just another reason for the guilt to eat her alive.

"I know," he assured her. "But Faith, with all these weapons around – you've gotta talk about what's wrong. You really do. You've gotta be in the right frame of mind, or else you have no business being the one holding the rifle."

She snorted, head spinning just a little. She'd eaten nothing since breakfast, so the alcohol was going straight to her head. Faith didn't care – she'd been working hard this past month and a half, why shouldn't she let loose? Why shouldn't she be reckless, if only for a night? If only for this night, out of all the others?

"You're one to talk," she said, head tipped back against the car behind her. She stared at the stars and distantly wondered how constellations even got discovered – she could barely see shapes in clouds, let alone a billion tiny dots up in the sky.

But Tobias didn't take the bait. "Talk to me, Faith," he said, that stupid accent smooth and as lilting as ever.

She'd have loved to blame it all on the alcohol, but the truth was she was just so tired. So tired to hurting without anyone to share the burden with. So tired of missing Nate. So tired of trying not to think about him or their life together.

"It's his birthday," she found herself whispering, staring up at the stars and imagining, just for a moment, that Nate was staring back down at her from wherever it was truly good people went after death.

"Nathan?" Tobias asked quietly.

She rolled her head towards him. The older hunter looked drawn and washed out in the light of the moon, and she thought he might be rather attractive if he wasn't such an asshole. The thought made her snort and she shoved the bottle of bourbon back at him. He caught it with one hand, arching a brow. "He hated going by Nathan," she told him quietly, watching as he considered the bottle for a beat before throwing back a swig of his own. "It was always just…Nate."

"How old would he be?" Tobias asked gently, and Faith returned her stare to the stars.

She tried to swallow but her throat felt tight. "He'd be twenty-five." Tobias passed the bottle back to her, and Faith gladly downed another mouthful. "He loved birthdays," she told him, and just with that small fact she felt some weight on her shoulders ease. Like by telling Tobias about Nate, he could shoulder the burden of his death, too.

And maybe, this way, Nate's memory wouldn't die with her.

"And you?" Tobias asked.

"Nah," she sighed. "I always found birthdays to be overrated, myself."

They faded back into silence without any tension between them. Faith shut her eyes and kept her face turned to the stars. She took another swig of bourbon then handed the bottle back to its owner. When the silence was finally broken, it was by Tobias, with a question Faith had yet to even truly ask herself.

"Why do you want to be a hunter, Faith?"

It took her several moments to form a reply, and when she did it was more honest than she'd meant to be, but the alcohol had loosened her tongue.

"Because I have nothing else," she whispered, opening her eyes again to stare unseeingly up at the stars. The moon hung to the left, hovering over them like a watchful guardian. It wasn't quite full but would be in only a day or two. "I have literally nothing else. No job, no family, no friends. I figure this is my final shot at doing something that…matters."

Tobias considered that for a moment. "Why are you so alone?"

She shrugged with a sad puff of laughter. "I'm one of those unlucky few who just sort of…slipped through the cracks of life, y'know? Didn't matter how much I tried. How much I wanted to be someone other people cared about. And that was my problem, I guess. I loved the world, but it never loved me back."

She was being unflinchingly honest, and Faith decided to rein it in a little, stealing back the bottle and tossing back another mouthful in the hopes of forgetting they'd ever had this conversation. She was going to be mortified come morning.

"Is it worth it?" she asked Tobias quietly. "This life? Is it worth it?"

Tobias laughed, a bitter, bitter sound. "No," he told her honestly. "But this world's full of monsters, and somebody's got to keep everyone else safe." He paused, considering. "I guess I sort of slipped through the cracks, as well. Only I never loved the world. And I love it even less now that…"

"Now that Oliver's gone," she finished for him.

Tobias' expression shuttered but he didn't dismiss her words immediately, like he usually did whenever she dared bring up his mysterious hunting partner's name. Instead, this time, he took a deep breath, let the words settle between them like dust on a piano, and then nodded. "Yeah," he whispered, as if anything louder might break the peace they'd found.

"I'm really sorry for your loss, Tobias," she whispered back, meaning it with every bone in her body.

He didn't react, but no reaction was better than a bad one, so she simply threw back another mouthful of bourbon and let them fade back into silence. They didn't speak any more after that, but they didn't have to. They'd said all that needed to be said.

Faith went to bed that night feeling like a little bit of the weight on her shoulders had been lifted. She ran a hand down Rumsfeld's fur and tried to keep the room from spinning.

(The dog had taken to sharing her room at night. Bobby had tried to stop him at first, but Faith had assured him she didn't mind – after all, after so many years of sleeping in a room filled by someone else's breathing, it was comforting to fall asleep listening to the old pup's snores.)

She felt like she couldn't let the occasion pass without a work – without some sort of acknowledgement for Nate's sake. He was one of those annoying people who wore a birthday badge on their chest with pride and actually liked standing there while other people sang an awkward 'happy birthday' to you around a fiery mess of cake.

"Happy birthday, Nate," she whispered into the dark, and felt better for it.

The next morning Faith awoke with the hangover to end all hangovers. She stumbled down Bobby's stairs, a hand pressed to her forehead, and found Tobias sat looking all-too chipper at the dining table.

"Morning sunshine," he said brightly. Faith grumbled back at him unintelligibly and his smirk was beyond irritating as he held up a large glass of water and two small white pills for her to take. "Your own fault," he said, just as cheerful. "You should have eaten. It's never good to drink on an empty stomach."

"Thanks, Dr. Phil," she sniped, tossing back the pills and washing them down with water. Last night had seemed to break the last of the tension between her and Tobias. They'd gone from teacher/student, to acquaintances, and now finally to something resembling friends. Despite this, their dynamic hadn't changed in the least.

He was still a grumpy asshole, and she was still a sarcastic annoyance. And she got the feeling they both liked it that way.

She helped herself to the remaining bacon on his plate, trying not to moan like a harlot at the taste of it on her tongue.

"You're ready," said Tobias suddenly.

"For what?" she asked around a mouthful of bacon.

Tobias said nothing, staring at her calmly over the top of his coffee mug. It took a few moments for Faith to realise what he was trying to tell her. She swallowed her mouthful in one large gulp, then downed some more of her water to wash it all down.

"Okay," she said, ignoring the thundering of her pulse and the way her palms grew slick with sweat. "When do we leave?"

"Today," he said it like it were no big deal, as if it wasn't such a huge, momentous thing. Apart from their morning runs, Faith hadn't left the salvage yard and whatever safety it afforded her.

She took another gulp of water in an effort to keep calm. "Are you sure…" she trailed off, realising the question made her sound like an insecure child. Tobias' stare was plain and unfaltering, and Faith knew she had to finish her sentence. "Are you sure I'm ready?" she asked, hating how her voice shook, giving away her nerves.

She didn't want to admit that some part of her – small though it may be – was hoping he would say no. That Tobias would tell her he'd changed his mind, and that they could stay here, safe at Bobby's, indefinitely.

"I'm sure," said Tobias confidently, a look to his eye that told her he knew the shameful wish of her heart.

"Okay," she replied automatically, mouth dry as bone.

He smiled, shaking his head at her in exasperation. "Faith, you said it yourself, you can't hide out here forever. And I know, deep down, you don't want to."

Faith swallowed around the lump in her throat. She nodded, as close to an agreement as she could get. The look in Tobias' eyes softened, and his smile turned less amused.

"You want answers. This is how we get them."

She knew he was right, about the answers and about her not wanting to hide away from the world just because it offered her the illusion of safety. She needed to step out into the open, otherwise she'd never stop hiding. Growing up, she never had been very good at hide and seek.

"I'll pack my stuff," she told him, stealing what remained of his bacon as she turned to leave.

"Faith," he called before she could disappear. Faith stopped in the doorway, turning to look at him expectantly. He opened his mouth to speak, but just as quickly shut it, seeming to change his mind about whatever he'd been about to say. "Bobby said the room's yours," he finally said as if it was what he'd been going to say all along, "so don't worry about packing everything. Just bring what you need."

Faith nodded her head, then slipped from the room, escaping up the stairs where Tobias couldn't see her panic.

In her room she allowed herself one minute of emotion. Stood in the centre of the small spare room Bobby was graciously allowing her to use, Faith shut her eyes and took several deep breaths. She couldn't lie to herself, she was scared. In her mind's eye she could see those words, written in the love of her life's blood on the wall of the bedroom they'd shared.

THE CURSE DIES WITH YOU

She didn't know what it meant, not really – none of them did. But if they were taking bets, Faith would put her money on death threat by the same type of demon who had attacked her that day at the motel with Sam and Dean.

How was one supposed to react to a death threat? She supposed hiding had been a good enough reaction, but she knew Tobias was right; she couldn't hide away forever. Besides, she hadn't spent the last two months shooting at cans and getting her ass handed to her by Tobias night after night just so she could stay locked in Bobby's house like a child afraid of a storm.

She could protect herself now. And if it was kill or be killed, she was prepared to do that, too.

Her minute over with, Faith opened her eyes and set her shoulders. The time for panic was over – now she had work to do.

Once her duffel was packed, Faith took the time to have a quick shower, the hot water working with the pills to wash the last of the hangover from her body. She changed into jean shorts and a teeshirt she'd found in that bargain bin with Dean, then piled her hair atop her head and shouldered her duffel like her heart wasn't squeezing painfully in her chest.

By the time she got back down to the first floor, Tobias had already packed up all his meagre belongings and was sat at the table again with his own duffel at his feet. Bobby had reappeared from wherever he'd been that morning, leant against the counter in his kitchen with a cup of coffee in one hand, talking in low tones with Tobias. They fell silent when she stepped into the room, and Faith tried not to bristle at the sudden gaping silence.

"Ready to go?" Tobias asked, putting down his own coffee and climbing to his feet.

Faith turned to Bobby, who watched them shrewdly from over the top of his mug. "Bobby, I just wanted to say…thanks," she told him stiltedly.

Bobby raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn't react.

"Um, I know you said the room was mine, but I put my stuff in a bag anyway, so if you need it for any reason you can just take the bag up to the attic and I'll come back for it when-"

"Room's yours, Faith," Bobby grunted. "I meant it. S'not like I take in strays every other day, y'know?"

It made her smile. "Is that what I am? A stray?"

Bobby smiled wryly from behind the silver mess of his beard. "Somethin' like that."

She knew he wouldn't want a hug, so she settled for smiling in return and following Tobias as he led the way to the front door. It wasn't until they'd stepped out onto the porch that Faith realised it was pouring rain, the sky a blanket a angry clouds and swimming-pool puddles gathering throughout the junkyard that was Bobby's yard.

"We'll share the driving," said Tobias, the keys to his beaten up old Toyota jingling in his hand. He paused, seeming to reconsider. "You know how to drive, right?"

She sent him an irritated glare. "Of course I know how to drive, you prick," she muttered, gripping the strap of her duffel bag tight and frowning at the small sea that had become Bobby's front yard. The rusted old cars jutted out from the water like islands, and Faith felt a pang at the thought of not looking out the window and seeing them. It might not have been the prettiest of views, but somehow it had become the closest thing to a home she had left.

And now she was leaving it. Maybe that was the curse the demons were referring to – that Faith couldn't hold onto a home no matter how much she wanted to. No matter how much she begged the universe to be kind, for once.

"Oh, also, you'll need these," said Bobby suddenly, and Faith turned to see him holding out a small handful of flat objects. "Fresh off the printer," he added proudly.

It took her longer than it probably should have to realise they were fake IDs. Faith opened the first of them with raised brows.

Agent M. Atwood, her falsified FBI badge read in big letters. She stared silently down at the badge. She'd done a lot of shady shit in the past – but impersonating a federal agent? It was probably bordering on the most illegal thing she'd ever done.

She kind of loved it.

There was a small trove of IDs, several different identities for her to use in a pinch. To Faith, it felt strangely official. Like with the presentation of the IDs, she was being christened a hunter. Nobody else seemed to find the moment ceremonial at all, Tobias just nodding his thanks and stuffing the cards into his pocket, so Faith swallowed back the stupid emotion and just pocketed the fake IDs.

"It probably goes without saying," said Bobby in a tired sort of voice that told her he knew someone who had learnt it the hard way, "but don't get caught with all of them on you at once."

Faith made a mental note not to repeat history. "Gotcha."

Bobby hesitated, and she got the feeling he wanted to say or do something chick-flick-y (as Dean would say). She watched him, waiting for him to bestow his equivalent of a mushy farewell. To her surprise, however, he only pulled a large knife from his waistband, extending it by the blade, the handle held out for her to take.

The blade wasn't a bright silver, but rather a dark metal that had no real shine. The handle was wooden, and engraved with symbols she recognised. "Protection symbols?" she asked, holding the blade up to the light to get a better look.

"More decorative than anything," said Bobby gruffly. "The blade's made of iron. Won't exercise a demon, but a well-placed wound should have it leaving whatever poor soul it's possessing. At the very least, it'll buy you time."

The weight of it in her palm was comforting, and though it wasn't the prettiest thing in the world, it had a certain charm. It felt sturdy and real and reminded her that she could do this. No matter the danger, she would survive. After all, she'd made it this far, hadn't she?

"The blade'll need frequent sharpening, being that's it's iron," Bobby continued, seeming to worry that her silence meant she didn't like it. It was sweet, and made her realise this was about more than a handy way to get rid of demons – over the last few weeks, in between the late-night study sessions and ice he'd fetched for her bruises, he'd come to actually give a damn about her. She'd never had very many people who did. "The hilt's just made of simple oak, but it'll need some polishing now and again, too. But I figure it's a small price to pay for-"

"Bobby," she interjected, and he stopped talking with no small degree of relief. "It's great. Thank you."

He nodded his head once. "Keep in contact, now."

"Will do," said Tobias, shaking Bobby's hand then lifting his bag over his head and jogging through the marsh of the front yard to reach his car. Taking a deep breath for strength – because that one step off Bobby's porch felt suddenly monumental, a point from which there was no return – Faith lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the downpour and hurried across the yard to Tobias' car.

It was an older model, but not a classic in the way Dean's was. Last she'd seen it, it had been covered in dirt, but the rain had washed it clean. Faith threw herself into the passenger seat, cringing at the water that had seeped through her shoes and soaked the socks within.

"Watch it," said Tobias as she shut the door after her. "You're getting mud on the mat."

"Oh, and you're not?"

Tobias pulled a face but otherwise didn't engage. The engine gave a loud, disconcerting putter that they heard even over the roar of the rain hitting the metal roof, and something about the suddenness of the sound made Faith's skin prickle with awareness. She was really doing this; she was really leaving.

They couldn't see to Bobby's porch through the storm hitting South Dakota like a tidal wave of rain, but Faith waved anyway as Tobias took them slowly out of the salvage yard and onto the main road. The rain beat against the windshield, the wipers screeching as they tried to fight it back. It was chaotic and undeniably dangerous, but Faith simply sank down in her seat and she pulled the MP3 player from her bag.

"You're not even going to make idle chatter with me while we drive?" Tobias asked with a sideways glance at her earphones.

Faith looked over at him incredulously. "Really, old man?" she asked scathingly. Tobias cringed at the name, but he'd long since stopped rebuking her for teasing him. He knew he'd only be fighting a losing battle. "It's a long drive. You really want me to pull ten hours of smalltalk out of my ass?"

Tobias opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to think better of it and changed his mind. Faith was curious enough to wait to put her earbuds in, looking across the cab at him expectantly. He could tell she was waiting for him to speak, so he made another face and awkwardly began to speak. "I, uh – well, if you're going to be listening to music…" he shot her another sideways glance, this time layered with sheepishness.

"Spit it out, Tobias."

"I like to listen to books on tape," he muttered, saying it so quickly Faith nearly missed it completely over the roar of the rainstorm.

She raised her brows. "You mean like autobiographies?" His cheeks went bright pink. "Are you blushing? Holy shit," she gasped with delight. "Are they dirty books? Are you listening to mommy porn?"

The look he shot her was so scalding it could have boiled water. "They're science-fiction, if you must know. And they include no porn of any kind."

"Ohh," she said, admittedly a little disappointed. She loved finding new things to tease him about. Still, she wasn't completely without material. "So this is you admitting you're a giant nerd."

"Would you just shut up and put your headphones in? I want to finish this book before we reach the state border."

Faith smiled, shaking her head as she slipped in her earphones, but before she could press play she heard Tobias speak again, just barely audible over the storm and the rumble of his car.

"You can call me Toby, y'know?"

Slowly, Faith took out her left earbud, staring at him in no small degree of wonderment. "Can I?" she asked. "I wasn't sure you even went by Toby. It seems…well, it doesn't seem proper enough for your fancy British ass."

Tobias rolled his eyes and shook his head, but rather than take the bait she dangled before him, he simply said, "Well, clearly this trend of you and I being stuck together day in, day out is getting to be a…thing…so I figure we can be done with the formalities."

A smile began to bloom on her face. "Well, you could sound a touch more thrilled about it," she grumbled even through the broadening stretch of her lips.

Tobias – Toby – tapped his fingers against the wheel in thought. Faith sensed she should keep the buds from her ears, waiting for him to say whatever he was so obviously working himself up to. "You're going to be okay," he finally declared. "I'm going to keep you safe, Faith."

Her throat closed up and her heart grew tight, as if someone had it in a vice. Faith couldn't remember anyone ever saying that to her before; not even Nate. But, in her dead boyfriend's defence, he hadn't exactly known there was anything she needed to be kept safe from.

So, Faith did what she always did when she felt overcome with emotion. She grew violent, reaching across the centre console to punch Toby hard on the arm. He flinched, looking over at her in mild alarm. "I'm going to keep myself safe," she told him primly. "You're just here as…backup."

Toby looked faintly amused. "Am I?"

She let them fade into silence. Toby didn't put on his audiobook, and Faith didn't press play on her music. They just sat in a strangely easy, companionable quiet, no sounds filling the cab of his old car but the steady drum of rain hitting the roof. Finally, when the silence was broken, it was by Toby, his voice soft like he were trying to deliver a blow that wouldn't hurt.

"We're gonna figure out what happened to your mum," he told her, making it sound like a promise. "And once we do, we'll know why these demons have been targeting you. And then we can stop it."

Faith stared at his profile in the muted light of the rainy day. He was staring resolutely at the road, a certain tension in his shoulders that told her he wasn't the type to often offer such words of reassurance. She wondered why he was doing so now.

She wanted to ask him so many things – why he cared, and why he seemed so passionate about keeping her alive, and why he was here with her in this tiny tin car during the middle of a hurricane when he could be literally anywhere else. But most of all, she wanted to ask why he seemed so sad, even when he was making an effort to smile. But Faith knew he wouldn't answer honestly – not in the way she wanted him to – and so instead of speaking any of those questions into being, she reached across the console to punch him on the arm once again.

"Ouch! What the bloody hell was that for?" he demanded, his English accent coming out sharper when he was irritated.

"Being sweet," she said roughly. "I don't like it when you make it hard to hate you."

Toby's only answer was a wry smirk and a shake of his head. As Faith slipped her earbuds into place and he reached forwards to turn on his audiobook, the two of them settled into easy companionship, and she had the sudden realisation that this wasn't an ending; not really.

It was just the beginning.

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A/N: Sorry for the late update this week – I had some technical difficulties with the site, but finally got it working now! Hopefully it won't happen again. I hope you enjoyed!

Drop a review if you feel so inclined. They fuel me like Snickers.