Being Pure

Chapter Three: Reading People

Chapter Three: Reading People

Addison's POV

"You have to learn how to aim if you're going to become a hunter." Dean readjusts my hands and steps back. "Try again."

I fire the gun twice and this time both bullets hit the dummy. I cheer and Dean gives me a high five.

"That was great! Do it again." I smile, feeling confident and shoot again. This time I hit the kill spot. I look over at Dean to find him smiling at me.

We're standing in the shooting range inside the bunker. I didn't realize how big this place was. The shooting range looks just like the ones from the movies with stand up dummies on one end and the glass and metal things to stand behind. Behind us is a wall of big guns and little guns. I was staring when we first walked in but now I'm staring at Dean's smile.

"Now that you've got that down, how about we try something a little different?" Dean walks aver to the wall and plucks one of the sawed off shotguns from the wall. "This is generally what Sam and I use when hunting spirits. We fill the shells with rock salt so it'll hurt them."

"Salt hurts ghosts? Does it kill them?" He smiles at me, remembering that I don't already have this drilled into my head.

"No, it just makes them go away for a little bit. Iron does that too. You gotta salt and burn their bones to kill 'em." He places the gun in my outstretched hands and points at the firing range. "So this won't kill a human, but it sure will hurt. Why don't you shoot it a few times so you get used to the feeling."

"What feeling?" I ask as I fire. The gun jolts in my arms, making me stumble back a little.

"It has a bit of a kick to it," jokes Dean.

"Thanks for the warning," I mumble. I shoot it a few more times before I get used to the jolt it sends through my body.

"Awesome," says Dean, taking the gun from me and putting it back on the wall. "So continuing on with your training, can you fight at all?"

"I used to take karate," I say. We walk out of the shooting range and head toward the library. I'm starting to memorize the layout of the bunker so I actually know where we're going. "I'm not very good, though." Dean nods as we enter the library. Sam is sitting at the table, his eyes glued to his computer screen.

"Hey Sammy," says Dean. He sits down next to Sam, reading over his shoulder. Sam doesn't seem to notice he's there. "This looks interesting."

"What?" I ask, slipping into a chair across from them. The top of the table is covered in loose paper and files and open books. I wonder what Sam's been reading up on.

We never talked about what that werewolf said last week. Sam has been too buried in his books and Dean has been focused on training me. I'm actually getting pretty good. We started with knife throwing but I was so bad that Dean decided to teach me how to pick a lock and hot wire a car. I've spent the last week mastering little tricks that make hunting a lot easier. Today we finally got back to the fun stuff. Once I wasn't scared of pulling the trigger, I realized I was actually pretty good at shooting a gun. I just hope that I'm as good with hand-to-hand combat as I am with aiming.

"Sammy here found a case!" Dean leans back in his chair and looks up at me.

"Yeah," says Sam. "In Chardon, Ohio. This guy burned to death in his hotel room."

"So, how do you guys know this is our sort of thing? Could just be fires," I say, leaning forward and resting on my forearms. I still don't understand how they find these jobs.