Breathe… Aim… Fire…
The sound of gunfire made her sweat, her hands tremble, her shoulder ache. That kind of weakness was unacceptable, dangerous, even, for a Slayer. What if she froze up and someone DeanDawnSamJaxDad
got hurt because of it? It had to be dealt with.
Dean and Sam were gone, taking care of the last two Sathari demons. They’d been spotted in Oregon by a hunter and the Winchesters were insistent about tying up loose ends. Dean seemed surprised when Faith stayed behind, but being worried about Dawn, who was due any day, was a believable reason and not altogether untrue. It just wasn’t the entire reason.
She asked her father for a gun and he gave her a steady, even look before getting to his feet and disappearing into his bedroom. He came back out with a Colt that was almost exactly like Dean’s favorite pistol and a box of ammo. He laid them on the table, then picked up his jacket and slipped it on. He grabbed the pistol and ammo and gestured to the door.
“Lets go,” he said and Faith led the way out of the house. They took Clay’s motorcycle and Faith wondered if her father could feel her heart pounding against his back.
They didn’t bother with a firing range, though Faith knew there was one in Charming. Instead, he took her to an old clearing in the middle of nowhere with a cluster of boulders and lots of old cans and bottles, many riddled with bullet holes. They weren’t the first to come here to shoot.
Clay set up a few cans and moved back to where Faith was standing, loading the clip with trembling fingers. He watched her, but made no move to take them from her and when she finished and slid the clip into the gun, he said nothing about the way she flinched. He stepped back and Faith raised the gun. Her hands shook and when her finger touched the trigger, she started to sweat. Her shoulder, long healed by now, began to ache, throb and she had trouble drawing breath. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to squeeze the trigger.
The shot went nowhere near the cans and Faith’s shaking got worse. She cursed herself under her breath. Guns weren’t the weapons of choice for Slayers, mainly because they didn’t kill vampires, but Faith wasn’t the average Slayer. The Winchesters used all kinds of weapons and if she was going to work with them, she couldn’t be having breakdowns every time a gun went off.
Strong arms came around her and she jumped, startled. Clay’s hands were rough with calluses, sliding down her arms to cover her hands on the gun. He was a warm, comforting presence at her back and Faith felt herself relax marginally.
“Easy, baby girl,” he murmured and Faith had a sudden vision of herself as a child, standing in the shelter of Clay’s arms. She wondered, with a sharp pang of sadness, how often they would have done this, how many times her father would have brought her here to learn to shoot if she’d known him as a little girl. She blinked and the vision was gone, but she held onto the feeling of trust and safety. Clay’s voice, gravelly and rough, sounded softly in her ear.
“You’re in control now. Just breathe, aim and fire, Faith.”
His fingers guided hers and together they squeezed the trigger. A can went flying with a metallic ping and Faith took a deep breath. The ache in her shoulder eased and she squeezed the trigger again. Another perfect shot and a fierce grin curved her lips. She had to work through this, but she didn’t have to do it alone.Breathe… Aim… Fire…