𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐧𝐞.
supernatural universe.
☆ | P O W E R ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
꒰ after years of abuse and torture,
she finds herself to be more powerful
than her abuser ꒱
❝ 𝘐 𝘞𝘐𝘓𝘓 𝘕𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘙 𝘜𝘕𝘋𝘌𝘙𝘚𝘛𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘗𝘖𝘞𝘌𝘙
𝘛𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘈𝘙𝘌 𝘏�...
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[ tw: discussion of child abuse ]
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𝐉𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝟐𝐧𝐝, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟔 ―୨୧⋆ ˚ MARLEY'S POV
𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐔𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐖𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐃. I'm grateful that Dean doesn't ask anymore questions. I'm grateful he and Sam don't bicker with one another about fighting. And I'm grateful for the sweet, sweet sound of silence. If I'm being honest, I don't think any of us have anything to say. All came out the night before, and now we just need to put it behind us.
One tear was shed from my eye, and I intend to keep that as the only tear to cry over Dad. Since the fight, I've calmed down to the point where I feel almost too relaxed to worry about us storming into a vampire's lair.
Well, the lair in question is a freaking barn, but not everyone can have mansions, not even vampires.
As we wait for the signal to be clear, we lurk behind the trees, watching as two vampires talk outside. In the sunlight. The sunlight. These vampires really aren't afraid of the sun, they're nothing like I've watched or read.
"Son of a bitch," Dean curses, leaning in behind me. "So they're really not afraid of the sun?"
"Direct sunlight hurts like a nasty sunburn," Dad tells us. "The only way to kill 'em is by beheading. And yeah, they sleep during the day— doesn't mean they won't wake up."
"So I guess walking right in isn't our best option."
"Actually, that's the plan." My head jerks back because what? We're going to walk in there when they could wake up and kill us. Really?
We go back to the Impala to load ourselves up with every weapon imaginable. Dad does the same, loading himself up with all sorts of weapons he got from the hidden compartment in the back of his truck. Bastard.
Dean hands me a machete, and I stare at it with an unintentional grin on my face. "Don't smile so much, Marls," he chuckles. "You gotta be careful with this thing, kid, okay?"
"Oh, yeah." I wave it around, finding it almost unbelievable that I'm actually holding one.
"Dad, I've got an extra machete if you need one," Dean calls out, but then Dad unveils a large, shiny serrated-edge machete from a leather holder.
