15. Hunter 101

I was consciously aware that the car was moving under me. I groaned inwardly and stretched. I picked my head up and looked in the rearview mirror. My hair didn't look too bad, barely ruffled. My body felt heavy, as did my eyes.

Why couldn't I just fall back asleep?

"Oh, good, you're up."

"Morning." I yawned. My nose detected an odor. "Do I smell food?" I looked in the backseat.

"At your feet, Dakota. I was going to put it in your lap, but—"

"You figured the floor was better?" I reached down to pull food out of a small box. I pried open one of the bags and pulled out a bagel breakfast sandwich and a small thing of milk. "I'm guessing you ate already."

"I did."

I downed a little of the milk first, wiping the moustache off my top lip. "Thank you, for this."

"Think of it as a thank you for being here for me."

I barely managed a smile, partially because I didn't want food falling out of my mouth. "Well, that's what friends are for, Sammy. And I really don't have a choice in this anymore, so I'm stuck with you."

"That's not such a bad thing," he told me modestly.

"You know what is, though?" I bit into the sandwich. It was car temperature, barely warm. At least it wasn't cold. "I have no hunting supplies, let alone proper training."

"You want to become a hunter?"

"I want to learn some basics. Since this apocalypse has started, I'll need to step up my game. No more strictly research. I'll be thrown into battle." I took another swig of milk. "God, I almost forgot what milk tasted like!"

"Just how long have you been living like that, Dakota? On your own?"

I let my breakfast settle a little bit. Sam wanted to bring this up again now? "A little while now." I swallowed another bite of sandwich. "We've been over this, Sam."

"Not in great detail."

"That's because I don't want to talk about it."

"All right, then maybe this is something you'll want to talk about: we're meeting up with Dean."

I looked at him. "When did this happen?"

"While you were sleeping. We're on our way there now."

"Gee, you didn't think to tell me this first hand, Sam? You might as well have just waited until I saw the Impala!"

"You're cranky."

I rolled my eyes. "So, he called you?"

"Yeah."

"I wonder what changed his mind."

"Don't know. Keep eating."

"Don't do anything to make me lose my breakfast in any way."

Sam almost laughed.

* * *

After another hour or two of driving, the Impala and its driver were in sight. Sam slowed the car down to a gentle halt then cut the engine. Out of my window, I could see we were near a bridge. Sam and I both got out of the car. I lingered towards the back, letting the brothers approach each other.

"Sam," Dean said. He looked at me. "Dakota."

I rolled my eyes at the way he said my name. Dean pulled out a knife, and I saw Sam stiffen with anxiety. Dean turned it and held it out for Sam, hilt towards his little brother.

"If you're serious and you want back in...you should hang on to this," he explained. "I'm sure you're rusty."

Sam took the knife from his brother.

"Look, man, I'm sorry. I don't know. I'm...whatever I need to be. But I was, uh—wrong."

"What made you change your mind?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"Long story. The point is...maybe we are each other's Achilles heel." By this point, I knew this conversation was brothers only. I still listened. "Maybe they'll find a way to use us against each other, I don't know. I just know we're all we've got. More than that. We keep each other human."

"Thank you," Sam said. "Really. Thank you. I won't let you down."

"Oh, I know it. I mean, you are the second-best hunter on the planet."

Sam nodded. "So, what do we do now?"

"We make our own future."

"Guess we have no choice."

"While we're making our futures, I've got something we can do," I piped, walking towards the brothers.

"And what's that?" Dean inquired.

"She wants a little training," Sam spoke for me.

"Define 'a little.'"

"Enough to help me survive on my own," I said.

"You really think you'll be up for something like that?"

"It's either I take on some training of my own, or I have you two save me all the time. I'm not about being a damsel in distress." I sniffed. "I don't care who gives me pointers on what, as long as I can learn fast."

"Don't think it's gonna be easy."

"I know it won't be. I know what you're up against." I shrugged. "Now, are we just going to stand around here, or am I being taught a lesson or two?"

"You will all right," Dean snarled.

"Play nice," Sam interjected.

"I will if your brother does," I told him neutrally.

Dean cracked his knuckles. "All right, Dak, you better pick your poison, 'cause we're starting right now."

* * *

From the time we'd all reunited, my Hunter 101 had begun. Dean wasn't too thrilled about teaching me, but he was nice about it. He was more of the hands-on kind of person while Sam was busy teaching me about the vast dictionary of monsters and what their M.O.s were and such. The first day was the most difficult, as a lot was thrown on me.

So between cases, I went to hunting school. While the boys actually went on the cases, I confined myself to the motel we were staying at to brush up on some skills and learn some new ones. Unfortunately, I wasn't too keen on being left alone, not since the incident with Lucifer back in Oklahoma. Every day he didn't show up made me ease up just a little bit more.

Sam and Dean finally managed to get some time to themselves, which they devoted to my studies. Today I was spending some quality time with Dean. I was a bit wary of that, considering he had me out in a field, just the two of us, pretty far away from any road. Not to mention that he had all kinds of weapons stuck in the back of the Impala.

"There's no time like the present," he told me as he was rummaging through the trunk. "I can teach you all I want, but the best way is for you to teach yourself."

I looked around the open field, eyed the fence. From afar, I could hear loud car mufflers roaring on by. A gentle breeze ruffled my hair.

"Here, get this loaded and ready." Dean handed me a small handgun, not a rifle like I had expected. Maybe a rifle was for another session.

I went over the steps in my head as Dean set up my targets: old beer cans and bottles. I could be shooting at worse things, like animals or people. I held the weapon at my side, waiting as he finished up the lineup on the fence.

"All right, show me what you're made of, Dak." He stepped far away from my targets.

I raised the gun, pretended to take the stance I saw in most movies: both hands on the weapon, legs spread apart, an intense look on my face.

"We don't have all day, just shoot."

I did. I fired a few rounds. All missed. The closest I got was actually chipping the fence. I huffed, not entirely surprised that I wasn't an expert. Still, I knew Dean was going to have some harsh notes for me.

"Next time, don't pressure me," I snapped as he came to me.

"You don't think you will be? If you're being attacked, they won't let you get into whatever you're trying to do here." He gestured. I straightened up. "You got to shoot the moment the chance comes. Once you find your rhythm, you'll have the precision of a sniper...maybe."

"Mind giving me pointers on what I'm doing wrong instead of biting my head off?"

"You don't have to do the movie stance, for one thing. Both hands on the gun is good, at least you're common sense smart. Your issue is accuracy. Just get into position, let's start there."

Since I didn't know the proper standstill stance, I took the "movie" stance once again.

"You don't need to be so locked tight, Dak. Loosen your arms a bit." He nudged my elbows until they bent a little bit. "And lower this." He made sure the gun was a little lower than I had it. "It doesn't need to be eye level. I know you may think it'll help your accuracy, but it won't. Just take some time to focus. No distractions."

Once Dean was away from me, I took a few moments to gather my bearings. I fired. So close—just missed the bottle. I readjusted my footing, as though that would help me some. I fired again. Still a miss, but I was getting closer.

"How does this help me? I'd be better off hitting flour sacks," I said.

"Well, I don't carry flour with me since it doesn't have any use in hunting. Besides, hitting small targets will help you in the long run. If you can hit those, hitting something bigger won't be an issue."

Good point, I noted.

I shot all the rounds until I emptied the gun. In the end, out of seven bottles and cans, I only grazed one can.

"Got anything else I can try and shoot at these with?" I hung the gun at my side.

"I think you've done enough for right now." I handed Dean the empty weapon once he had his hand out for it. "Hey, listen, thanks for looking out after him like you did."

"Yeah, sure," I said absently.

"No, I mean, Dakota." He looked at me. "I still don't know a lot about you, but I think you're okay enough."

"But you'd still take me out if you got the chance to."

"I hope I don't have to, but yes I would."

At least he was being honest.

As we headed to climb in, I opened the back door. I looked up to see Dean giving me a weird look.

"What?" I asked.

"Nobody's up front, you know. I told you this on the way here."

"I know, but, I don't know...the seat feels almost sacred, like nobody but Sam should sit there."

"You're your own level of weird, Dak."

I rolled my eyes as him as I moved up to shotgun. Dean cranked up the radio, with rock blasting through the stereo. I rolled down the wind, letting the air dance around in the Impala as we headed back to the motel.

**So, it's official: Dakota is a hunter in training (sort of)! I figured the boys' roles fit: Sam is more about the books and Dean isn't. I like it though, when Dakota and Dean are together. You can see bits of the alliance growing. I can't say friendship, because Dean's absolutely still guarded around her.

I mean, can you blame the guy with his track record (and especially Sam's) when it comes to trusting women?**