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Rachel has yet to find what useful purpose Dean serves to this world or any other. So far his driving skills, propensity for violence, and taste in music has been far outweighed by the pure annoying of his personality.

The number of punches she's dealt his shoulder has multiplied ever since she hit her head, too. Maybe Jo was attracted to men that tried to baby her but Rachel would take a monster over a concerned individual any day of the week.

Which is why she had no problem with stealing one of Dean's guns after they'd made camp and he'd gone off to-- do whatever it was he was going to do. Se has her own, of course, but it doesn't serve her purpose.

It isn't shiny.

"Mort?" Rachel frowns and glances over her shoulder to make sure no one's around to see her acting like a crazy woman, talking to a gun. "C'mon, I need to talk to you."

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"Why the hell shouldn't I when you've been attacking me since I met you?!" Rachel growls. "And shut up! I don't have a problem, I don't regret anything I've done!"

David.

"Which is why I'm not walking away from you!" Steph throws her hands up, frustrated. "If you can't see that it's a problem, then I'm not letting you one foot closer to my family on the farm!"

Rachel freezes, staring at her with narrowed blue eyes and a dropped jaw. Her brows lift sharply and her hands find her hips again. "What do you think I do, go from town to town killing random people? Unless you've got a family full of murderers, I don't give a damn who's living at the little farm on the prairie! We're not even going there!"

Edited 2008-09-08 01:30 (UTC)

"Good," Steph snaps. "Don't. I mean it."

She stays right where she is, planted firmly in the road in front of her bike, in a clear statement: you go there only if you go through me.

"How the hell do I know how you define murderers?"

"Because I've been telling you this entire time maybe?" Rachel growls. "I can't believe you, you moron, this entire world is filled with monsters and real killers and you're out to get me?! What's the matter, the real threats too much work for your precious little morals, you've got to mess with someone you don't think will fight back?!"

"I'm not out to get anyone!" Steph snaps back. "I'm trying to help you! I don't think you're beyond hope!"

Although she's starting to.

"And stop calling me precious!"

"You don't think I'm beyond hope but I'm a monster who's out to kill your family?! Let me go ahead and replace all those 'precious' with moron!"

She doesn't need this, not this to go along with everything else.

"Is this how you help everybody? Insulting them?! Why, you must be the best damn superhero in history, you-damn-moron!"

"Shut. Up," Steph hisses, pity gone because hurt fury is taking over. "Stop twisting my words! Why can't you understand that killing. is. bad? It's not complicated!"

"Probably for the same reason that you can't seem to understand that a slap on the wrist doesn't stop anyone from hurting anyone! Get back on your high horse and get out of my sight, you're not doing anything but pissing me off!"

Steph glares.

Then she turns her back, pointedly, and walks her bike over to the side of the street; where she settles herself against the wall, arms folded, pointedly watching Rachel.

Not. Going. Anywhere.

Rachel is having a hard time breathing. Her chest hurts, her eyes burn, her hands fisted tight at her sides.

She's not a monster. Tobias told her that plenty of times and he wouldn't lie. She isn't.

...or she wasn't, with him.

"Get on your bike," Rachel growls softly. "And go."

"Not until you do," Steph says flatly. "I'm out of surveillance cameras, so you're gonna have to put up with it."

"I can't- I'm not leaving yet," Rachel snaps angrily, and is careful not to glance back at where the Impala sits in the darkness.

And maybe she should just leave without Dean anyway.

"Get out of here, Steph, or I swear to god, I'll convince you to."

Steph wants to go. She wants to get home and make sure everyone's safe, and then she wants to go out and beat the punching bag into shreds, and she wants to convince herself that Rachel's utterly wrong.

Most of all she wants to convince herself that she'll never end up like that.

"What will you do if I go?" she asks, voice so calm it's obviously an effort.

Rachel scoffs, looking away from Steph and crossing her arms over her chest - tight and angry. "I'll do something horrifically evil like eat dinner and go to bed. Jesus Christ."

"Like I could take your word for it," Steph points out glumly, "even if I liked you. I don't wanna stay here either. I've got plenty of better things to do. But you're a danger and you're close to the farm."

"Stop saying that, I'm not a danger to little kids and their parents!" Rachel roars, stepping closer to Steph again, the urge to attack unbearably strong. "I've been to the damn farm before and I haven't hurt anyone! I don't just kill people! I'm more worried about a place like that that trusts people like you!"

"Oh, yeah, because you're doing such a good job of convincing me you're calm and peaceful," Steph snorts, folding her arms. "I can't guarantee none of my family have never killed anyone. Or committed crimes. The difference is I don't think they should die for it!"

"So basically, you can decide who's allowed to live or die but no one else can? God, you're ridiculous! What makes you think I've ever killed anyone just because I felt like it?! What makes you so sure their reasons and mine were so different?!"

She doesn't want to kill Steph.

She just wants to beat her senseless.

And Rachel's still walking closer.

"No!" Steph snaps. "Will you stop doing that? You're twisting what I say into what you think I should say! I'm saying that nobody gets to decide who lives or dies! No matter what they've done!"

In typical Steph-fashion ... she's not budging an inch.

"Nobody... except your family?" Rachel growls, coming close, getting right in Steph's face. "Lemme ask you this, did you interrogate them the same way you've been doing to me?! Did you give them the third degree about why and how and when and what else they could have done? Did you?!"

Steph narrows her eyes right back. "No," she says flatly, "because I trust them. You've never shown me one single reason to trust you."

At her side, her hands twitch slightly, itching to form a fist.

"Yeah, you're right, I just fought alongside you against a whole damn army of zombies!" Rachel snaps.

She is not a monster. She's not. She doesn't just kill. She's a hardened warrior, a soldier, she does what's necessary, not just what she wants, she knows what she's doing and she does it for a reason.

"I don't need or want your trust!"

"Yes, and then when we'd won you killed three unconscious, helpless men," Steph points out, growls really. "And acted like it was something you were proud of! My worst nightmare is to end up like you!"

"I killed three unconscious men that, when conscious, had killed enough people to splatter the whole damn mall with blood!" Rachel explodes.

And swings hard to punch Steph across the cheek.

"Good! You're the worst excuse for a warrior I've ever met, I'd hate to see what you'd do with real power behind your bullshit!"