shatterverse | (no subject)

Tobias was off hunting, which meant Rachel had some time to do some training. Her gun is at the bottom of her bag back at their campsite - which is where it's been since even before Tobias arrived. She hasn't lifted it in ages, much less practiced shooting, but there have been other things to do.

Forget the job at the farm. She didn't understand it anyway.

Morphing was all well and good but the difficult part only lasted thirty seconds, a few minutes at most. After that, her mind is free to wander. Rachel wants to be distracted, occupied but hiding behind the mind of her morph is... not an option. Not right.

It was stupid. A couple of ghosts and she already knew she couldn't fight them. What was she going to do? Research? Watch and learn? They didn't need her for that.

Gymnastics was good to keep her mind occupied. If she worked hard enough, she'd be too focused on her body to think much. And things are fine anyway, she'll stress herself out over nothing.

She didn't want to go anyway.

She'll work up to gymnastics. Right now, she's running on the road out of Metropolis, working up her heart rate, stretching before trying anything new.

It was a stupid job.

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A little way into the woods, there's a shooting range set up. Primitive and uncomplicated; Dean's just picked the biggest clear space and painted targets on the trees.

He doesn't have a silencer; he won't be hard to find. Gunshots, in a world gone silent and dead, tend to stand out.

That they do, and they are eardrum-splicing even for human senses.

Rachel slows her run as she comes closer, trying to peer into the trees. The shots are coming too often and too steady and there isn't a single noise of protest. That's enough for her to realize it's a shooting range.

She makes a face, looks around to see if anyone's coming and starts a slow walk into the woods toward the sound.

Dean's focused, intent. The trees are suffering; his shooting is very accurate. The EPA would be pissed. If, you know, they weren't all dead.

He still looks up sharply when he hears someone coming.

"Who's there?"

Rachel walks into the clearing, lifting a brow at the condition of the trees as she crossed her arms. "What, did you think you were being quiet?"

After her last discussion with Tobias, she briefly wonders if Dean is shooting at the trees hoping to catch a hawk.

"Quiet like you're sweet," Dean agrees cheerfully, snapping off a couple more shots.

"And like you're subtle."

Rachel watches him for a few minutes, getting control of her breath. He fires off the gun so easily, hits what she assumes is his mark every time - and assumes so if only because he doesn't look disappointed after every shot.

She thinks briefly of the gun she left at the campsite, wonders how long it'll take before Tobias finds it.

And, for completely unrelated reasons, turns to go back to the road.

"It was nice seein' you!" Dean calls after her, without turning around from his shooting.

Rachel scoffs, scowling at the trees ahead. "Yeah, you're my biggest fan lately."

The shots stop, and Dean frowns, getting back to his feet. "Hey. Hey Rachel, wait."

Surprised, Rachel pauses and turns to look at him suspiciously. "What?"

Dean sighs, running a hand through his hair and jogging over towards her.

"Look -- about that hunt, at the farm."

Rachel arches a brow, hands on her hips and waiting for him to stop in front of her.

"The one you told me to stay out of."

"Yeah." Dean is unabashed. "That one. Look, Rach, it's -- it's not personal, okay?"

If possible, Rachel's disdain actually doubles. "Of course it isn't. I can see how Jack, who's a stranger to everyone, would be way more trustworthy than a guy who fought a war with me for years."

Dean tips his head back and rolls his eyes, and readjusts the conversation in his head up a few notches.

He forgot how talking to Rachel was more like fighting a war than anything else.

"Jesus, get over yourself. I've known Jo for years. I trust her to trust Jack. I don't have a fucking clue who you even are, and I trust you in spite'a that. But fuck if I'm gonna trust some dude who's only got one word to say t'me and that's asshole."

"You could try acting like less of an asshole," Rachel suggests, not backing down for a second. "That might help. And you know exactly who I am, I'm the girl that's still trying to figure out why I saved your ass in the first place."

"I don't remember you ever saving my ass," Dean says, throwing his hands in the air. "Except for all the times I saved yours. Jesus. Okay. Whatever."

He turns to go back to his mark.

"Maybe you'd remember better if I'd let that raptor gnaw on you for a while!" Rachel snapped, watching him walk away.

She didn't want this. She wanted the job and she wanted the company, she did not want to be left jobless and bored with Tobias for her only company and working herself hard enough to not want to talk.

"...Dean?"

Dean rolls his eyes again, stopping in his tracks and spinning.

"What."

Rachel's jaw works, tongue against her cheek. It's a blow against her pride - but what the hell wasn't anymore?

"You don't just shoot. You can fight with your hands, right?"

"No, I'm a freakin' ballet dancer."

Dean folds brawny arms in front of himself and glares at her.

"Did you have a point in there anywhere?"

Brawny arms she would like to feed to him. Rachel makes a face like she's having the hardest damn time holding her words back, arms crossed just like his and glaring.

"Teach me. If you don't want me to take getting kicked out personally."

Dean stares at her.

"Teach you to fight. So that your feelings won't be hurt?"

"You asked me not to take it personally," Rachel snaps, stung by the words, glaring uncomfortably. "I'm telling you what to do so I won't."

She's about a half second from calling him an asshole herself and stomping off.

Dean stares at her some more.

Then turns back to the gun. "Forget it. What are you, twelve? I got work to do, Rachel. I got a hunt. Your hurt feelings are gonna have to wait."

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theresnodoor - 2008-11-22 06:53 (UTC) - Expand