Rogue (Supernatural) [Rogue Trilogy] {1}

16. Chipping off the Rust

16. Chipping off the Rust

I've decided to devote some time to mapping out the bunker. Currently, I'm in one of the inventory rooms, just glancing through. In previous days, I've been looking through books and documents, just reading. This bunker was founded by a group called the Men of Letters. Take note of the word "men," as apparently there were no women in the group. Well, if there was the off chance that there were any women, there is no documentation on them.

Well, now, apparently, there is, if I can count. I got the history lesson from Sam that he, Dean, and myself are part of the line of Men of Letters, being that our grandfather—Dad's dad—was one. If the group had still been around, surely there would be Women of Letters too, not just the men.

I dig through boxes, finding some things that I don't want to touch. Something glints in the dim lighting in one of the boxes. I sniff, reaching it. My lips part as I feel cold, dusty metal. I pull out the two poles until I realize they really aren't poles at all. They're batons.

How in the hell did these get in here? Or even exist? I cock my head as I give them a thorough look through. I grimace, wiping the grime off of them. There's no rust on them, so they must've been cleaned when Dean and Sam went through inventory here the first time.

I test both batons in each hand. They're not heavy, but they aren't feather-light either. If I swing hard enough, I can maybe break a jaw or a nose, or a bone in general. Huh. Well, this would definitely work for up close and personals. I look around, observing the space around me.

I move my arms, baton in each hand, getting used to their feeling. I spin around, pretending to defend myself from invisible enemies. I've never been much of a fighter, but holding these weapons gives me a sense of power. Like I'm about as strong as my brothers would be.

I continue to swing at air, imagining enemies being knocked aside or unconscious. I'm getting more into it. I would've been into it much more if I had someone to fight against. Swinging at nothing would make me look crazy. Or maybe not so crazy. People do this all the time, right?

I turn around, swinging my left arm. I jump, panicked, as my baton gets caught. I react, swinging my right arm.

"Jesus, Josette!" Dean hisses as I throttle him in his side. He scowls down at me.

"You jumped me!" I say defensively.

"I didn't jump you. Calm down."

Yes, big brother Dean is back in the bunker. We got him back after two weeks of separation. The Winchester siblings came together on a case in Grantsburg, Wisconsin, involving werewolves. There I met a hunter named Garth, who was actually a werewolf himself. He was bitten, though, not a born werewolf. He'd found himself a pack, and a lovely wife. I'd had my reserves, but the family wasn't all that bad.

Well, except for the select few that wanted to frame my brothers and I for murder of their pack members so that the human-friendly pack would turn against humanity.

In the end, the bad guys bit the dust. Oh, and to top that off, we let Dean in on our failed plan to track Gadreel with his Grace. In return, Dean told us how he and Crowley went on an adventure that resulted in them both meeting Cain, who turned out to be the very first Knight of Hell. Dean wound up with Cain's mark on him, a mark he showed to Sam and me both.

My relationship with Dean is about as strained as Sam's is with him. Their issues between them haven't been worked out yet, even though we're all living under the same roof again. We're all hunting partners, but that's as far as the relationship is right now.