Vengeance ~Supernatural~

Chapter Twenty-Six

I take a long drink from my water bottle and turn back to Sam who is leaning against the wall of the training room.

"Ready to go again?" he asks, smirking slightly.

I scoff and roll my eyes at him as I tighten my ponytail. "You're a jerk."

"Hey, you're the one who wanted to learn how to fight and defend yourself," says Sam, holding his hands up in defense.

I open my mouth to reply but shut it again, having nothing good to say back. "Whatever. Let's just get started."

I walk towards him and plant myself in front of him, readjusting the strap on my black sports bra and trying to ignore the couple of bruises on my stomach.

"Remember Zay," calls Dean from the other side of the room. "Because your right handed your stance is – "

" – left foot forward, right foot back, arms up slightly above my chest to protect any hits to the face, and keep your elbows tucked in near your body," I mutter. "I know Dean. We've gone over this a million times."

"Then it's a wonder why you aren't a master at this by now," Dean grins as I place my feet in the correct spots and clench my fists, bringing them up to a little below my chin.

Sam stops leaning against the wall and stands up straight and grabs a knife with its cover over it.

"Try to disarm me," says Sam. "I won't pull any fancy moves. Just the typical defense moves."

I sigh and roll my eyes. "Okay."

Sam also takes a fighting stance. And in a flash, he slashes the knife forward and would've cut my arm open had I not sidestepped to the left and grabbed hold of his arm. I twist his arm behind him but he easily jerks it away, ripping his arm from my grasps.

A bit annoyed now, I take offense and begin moving in on Sam forcing him to step back until he's cornered.

I swipe my arm forward and kick Sam in the stomach – hard. He looks momentarily startled and I use that to my advantage, knocking the knife out of his hands.

I keep my defensive stance as Sam looks at the knife on the ground and back up at me and nods approvingly. "Nice."

"You were going easy on me," I state, picking up the knife and handing it to him.

He shrugs. "So? We have to gradually make the training harder and harder. We can't just start off at a really high level."

I huff, frustrated but nod. "Yeah, okay."

"Well," says Dean, clapping his hands together. "I don't know about you guys but I'm starving. How do you feel about going out to eat?"

"Yes!" I answer immediately. "I haven't gotten to eat out in forever."

"Then it's settled," says Sam as he tosses the knife on the table. "Go get ready."

Nodding, I skip out of the training room and into my room. I pull on a shirt a size too big (because it's comfortable), slip on my sneakers, grab my small bag, and shove my phone into the front flap of my bag.

I hurry into the main room and yell, "Ready!" which earns me a, "Be right there!" from Dean and, "Just a second!" from Sam. So, I lean against the table and tap my fingers on the edge impatiently.

Finally Sam and Dean walk out a few minutes later.

"Is it embarrassing you took longer to get ready then a teenage girl?" I ask teasingly as we walk up the stairs and outside.

"Shut up," they both say in unison.

I smirk and approach the Impala.

I stop at the passenger's door and look up at Sam.