Stand in the Rain (Dean Winchester story)

Chapter 16

A/N: So the end of this chapter is sort of based off of the first time I learned how to fire guns. I say this so any haters don't start talking about how Lizzy's reaction isn't possible. That is all, enjoy!

Lizzy

When I wake up, I ensure my necklace is still fastened, usually I sleep with it on. I change into into jeans and grey tank top with the words first I drink the coffee then I do the things in bold white across the chest. I figure I need to be able to move my arms around the most for the first day for training. I walk out to library where Dean said to go when I woke up and was ready to start. He sits in one of the chairs next to the lamps that Sam fixed last night. I told him I could do it because it was my fault they broke, but he wouldn't let me.

"Okay, let's go!" I finish pulling my hair up into the ponytail I started when I walked out of my room.

"Where are your hearing aids?" Dean leans to look at my bare ears.

"I didn't want you hit them on accident so I didn't put them in." I shrug.

"And why would I hit them?" He tilts his head back.

"Because I figured that you'd teach me how to block a punch at one point and I wanted to make sure I wasn't worrying about the 6,000 dollars in my ears." I laugh at confusion written on his face.

"Did you say 6,000 dollars?" His eyebrows shoot up.

"Yeah, my hearing aids were three grand a pop." I nod back.

"Sheesh." He mutters under his breath, I almost don't catch it.

"No mumb-lish, only English and ASL." I call him out. I would always tell people, whether it was a teacher or a friend I'd managed to make that I didn't understand mumb-lish, or mumbling. I figured it was a fun and kind or polite way to tell people to speak up so I could hear them.

"Right, well as crazy as that price tag is, no punching today." Dean sighs.

"Then what are we doing for training?" I ask.

"First I'm teaching you how to shoot." He explains.

"Like, a gun?" I tense up.

"No, a tank, of course a gun." He turns around to lead us to the shooting range. Shit, shooting a gun? I can't shoot a gun, I've never even touched one! I panic in my head. That's why he's teaching you Lizzy, so that you can shoot it. He knows how to use it, he's probably grown up with them given how much he knows about them. It'll be fine.

The shooting range is mostly grey with a few steel table booths separated by rectangular, tawny, cream colored columns. The booths are about four feet wide each, but maybe 40 feet away is the last wall with posters shaped like a man. Markings indicate points for each area of the target. I turn and see Dean pulling out some kind of hand gun. 

"This is probably the best thing to start you out with." He holds it out to me.I don't take it, I just stare and try to will myself to take it. "You okay? You're white as a sheet." He sets the gun down on the table, my eyes follow it. Dean slides his hands over my arms. "Hey, Lizzy? You in there?"

"Yeah," I look away from the gun to my feet in their sneakers. "I just, I've never... it's nothing." I reach out for the gun as I do my best to push the voice in my head telling me to run out. Dean grabs my wrist a few inches before it touches the grip.

"You've never shot a gun, have you?" He says concerned. "It's okay, we don't have to start with them."

"Try never touched or seen in person." I laugh dryly. "It's fine, gotta learn sometime." I finally look him in his emerald eyes.

"You weren't kidding when you said they didn't let you out much." Dean smiles softly. Why's he smiling?

"No, I wasn't." My mom didn't let me start learning how to cook until I was thirteen because she didn't like the thought of her baby with a knife, even a kitchen one." I shake my head lightly. "I remember it was this big deal when she finally let me cut up some ingredients for some chicken recipe. 'It's not a toy, you have to let everyone know you have it. Only hold the handle. Don't let someone accept it until they say thank you so that you know they have a hold on it.' Over and over again."

"I don't think I have to tell you guns aren't toys." Dean grins devilishly. 

"No, you don't. Just tell me how to hold it." I insist. "You can't shoot yourself without try to though, right?"

"No, you can't do that without trying." He shakes his head and laughs at my question. Taking the gun in his hands, he explains how to hold it, where the safety is, how to turn the safety on and off, how to stand, and how to aim. Finally he takes my hands and wraps them around the gun. "Now it's your turn. Show me how to stand and then aim." 

Doing as he instructed before, I lifted my arms and aligned my feet so they were aligned with my shoulders. I squeeze one eye shut and move the gun so that the aiming bubble was lined up with the target.

"You're too tense." Dean comments. His voice echos thru the booth. "When you shoot you want brace yourself for the kickback, but you brace with your core, not shoulder and your neck like you're doing right now, you gotta relax a little bit."

"I'm very relaxed." I lie. Dean laughs at my response.

"Sure you are. Here." He moves behind me and reaches around me so that his arms line up with mine. His chest is just barely touching my back. "Let your shoulders down, breathe a bit more, and aim again." He instructs me. I adjust my stance again so that my shoulders aren't as tense, and my core is flexed. "Good, now shoot when you're ready." 

"Right, okay. When I'm ready." I repeat to myself. I breathe in, rest my finger on the trigger and pull. The gun shoots with a thunderous burst. I feel a large pang vibrate in my bones, hurting my forearms as I'm jolted back. I think I may have fallen if Dean was encasing me in his arms. "Ahh!" I cry out briefly. I drop the gun and grab my right wrist in pain.

"Whoa!" Dean pulls me up. "I forgot you were so little. Probably not the best gun for your first time, the more I think about that. Come here, baby girl." He takes my wrist in his hand. "Maybe we should do guns another day."

"Are you suppose to feel the shot through your whole body when you shoot?" I groan.

"Yeah, but it shouldn't hurt unless the gun's too powerful." He bites his bottom lip.

"You shoot it."

"What?" His head shoot up to look me in the eye.

"You try it, if it feel stronger than it should, we know it's the gun. If it feels normal, then we know it's me." I explain.

"Fine. Sit down." He walks back to the booth, and shoots the gun three times. I feel each shoot resonate thru my skull like before. He turns around and empties the clip before putting it back in it's rightful place. "There's nothing wrong with the gun." He huffs. "I don't get why it would be your fault if the kickback hurt you though, you were standing the right way."

"I think it was sensory overload." I tell him.

"English not doctor-ish." He attempts to mimic my earlier comment. I hold back a laugh and explain.

"When you lose one sense, like hearing, your brain tries to make up for it's loss and strengthens a different sense to compensate. I have a stronger sense of touch because of the hearing lost. So I think what happened was something as powerful as a kickback, was magnified and hurt me." I break down. "I felt the jump in my bones, and it was just so strong it hurt my arm."

"Then maybe we can talk to Sam about some kind of shock absorb-er thing we can get for you wear when you're shooting. Cause you need to be able to shoot if something happens." Dean suggests.

"I like that idea. Like Daisy on Agents of SHIELD." I smile at the reminder of the show I would watch with my mom. 

"Who's Daisy? I know what SHIELD is, it's Marvel, but who's Daisy?" Dean asks.

"I need to show you Agents of SHIELD, it's a spin-off series." I giggle.

"Works for me. Now let's go back up and find something else to do." He leads me upstairs to the library where we start talking about what I need to learn next.