Star Fall / Book One (SPN Fan Fiction)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Since Dean exiled Kyiah to the bunker, she's done nothing but train and sleep. After one day molds into five, she took it upon herself keep busy. Trying to hide from the crippling reality that she was alone. With Dean on the road, and Cas healed and tracking Sam. For the first time in her entire life, no one was beside her. At least after her father died, Castiel was always there. Profoundly so. But now, she found the meaning behind what it means to be truly alone.

She spent the first three days excessively training. And pushed herself beyond her limits on her fifth hour, where she missed the punching bag and sent a first straight into the wall. Putting an end to her physical exertion for at least the next few days. Leading her to find out that she's not all that great at wasting time. Kyiah taught herself to make French toast from a YouTube channel, discovered she can only watch tv for so long before her vision begins to blur. And even tried to read in Enochian without Sam's guidance. But antsy, she remained. Being a well trained killer from early the age of four, down time was not something she'd ever experienced. And she certainly didn't like it. Queuing her to shift her focus to restrengthen her genetic witchery. Aligning her chakra, levitating small objects, practicing her Latvian spell casting. She tried dispatching telepathic messages to the boys. Hoping she could absorb some of this realms strength by transmitting a spiritual signal. But she couldn't get them through.

She had unintentionally nested in Dean's room in his absence. Uncomfortable in her own now that the bunker was empty and lifeless. Laid out in his bed after a cold shower, wearing just her panties and one of his t-shirts, attentively flipping through an old Men of Letters book she'd found about Transylvania. Consuming every word, every line. Wondering just how much this secret society actually knew. Further curious to find if her furtive existence had ever been publicized. She turns the thirtieth page of the book, and freezes. Her heart stopping in her chest as her eyes land on an image of her father. With the caption, "Gabriel Van Helsing. Circa 1888". Taking in every detail. Poised and powerful. Just like she remembers. Just like she always wanted to be. Regal, and dignified. In all his protective gear and fashionable layers. The ends of his long leather duster kicked up by a breeze, the wide brimmed fedora tilted mysteriously over his curls to shield a portion of his face. His hefty, steampunk crossbow, aimed heroically upward in a gloved hand. And his coined, relentless, tojo blade gripped tightly in the other. With Vlad, slung in the sheath across his back. Tsia caresses the page in tremendous grief. Looking over the only physical photo of her father she's ever seen.

"I miss you, daddy." She whispers through a tight throat, feeling a warm teardrop roll down her skin. The memories of their short lived time together are sharp. Thanks to her mothers genial clairvoyance, she's able to clench onto those pieces with all her might. But that sword, comes with a scornful double edge...Unable to rid herself of the memories, she wished she'd forget.

Stuck with the souvenir of sheer terror filling her fathers reliant eyes. As her archangel machete plunges straight into his back. Its black blade, graphically piercing through his chest. The thud of his weight as he's mercilessly dropped to his knees. The tears shimmering down his valiant face as he uses every ounce of strength to desperately crawl the castle's grounds. Trying to reach her. The only time she'd ever seen her father cry. With Vlad's sharp tip shrieking menacing from behind. The perilous coarseness in his voice as he brings out her name. "T-Tsia." Extending his arm to her for the very last time. His body, motionless in the pools of blood melting from his mouth and the fatal stab wound. Watching him take his dying breath on the floor of their home. His gaze never straying, as the entirety of her world crumbles before her. Tens of feet away from the only person, she had ever loved. Feeling the permanent scorch of her throat through her own inconsolable cries. Screaming out for him in horror, as Velkan sends the entirety of her blade straight through the back of his skull.