Carry On

2006

Frankie couldn't help but to flash the driver in the mustang beside her a smirk as she finished counting her winnings. It wasn't her first win, but it was certainly the best, earning her almost six-hundred dollars. The mustang owner was some cocky, rich, college kid with too much money and time on his hands. It was painfully obvious it had been the boy's first race and he'd thought he'd show off by winning what he'd assumed would be an easy race against some naive girl.

The poor sap couldn't have been more wrong.

Frankie watched the kid as he continued to glare at her while she shoved the wad of cash into the back pocket of her faded, cut off, jeans. She knew the kid hadn't had a chance, but he was waving too much money around for her to pass up.

"You cheated." Frankie'd barely turned to climb back into her burgundy, 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle when the Mustang owner grabbed hold of her upper arm. "I want my money back you little whore." Francesca Miller wasn't very big in stature, even for a woman she leaned more towards the small end of the scale just reaching 5' 3 but when you threw in her petite figure her height barely meant anything. It was no surprise the kid assumed they were around the same age, even though in actuality Frankie was closer to thirty than she'd liked.

"Hey, whoa man." One of the race coordinators, Jeff, stepped up, placing a hand on the kid's shoulder attempting to pull him away. This hadn't been Frankie's first rodeo and though he wasn't sure how she managed, Jeff knew things didn't end well for the men that chose to step up to her. "She won fair and square." The kid's grip only tightened as he shrugged the guy off.

Frankie smiled, glancing down at the kid's hand. His skin was smooth against her own, unworn, not a single hard earned callous blemished his pretty boy physique. He'd probably never worked a day in his life for what he had, though he couldn't have been a day over twenty-two. Frankie couldn't help but to think if that's what her hands would have looked like had she'd had a normal life, only her life was anything but normal.

"I'm gonna give you one chance to let go." She stated, looking the boy straight in his chocolate brown eyes. He gave a cocky smile, jerking her a bit as his friends stupidly cheered him on from the sidelines.

"As soon as you give me back what's mine." Hearing this, Jeff took a step back and away from the Mustang guy.

Bringing her knee up into the kid's groin, he gasped, hunching over as Frankie grabbed a hold of his shoulders, bringing her knee up again, this time into the kid's face. The group of college kids fell immediately silent as their friend collapsed onto the pavement, clutching his nose as blood trickled through his fingers. If there was one thing Frankie hated more than monsters, it was sore losers.

"One chance." She repeated, letting out a sigh before climbing into her car and pulling off. It wasn't the kid's fault, he had no idea he'd been messing with a hunter--hell, he most likely had no idea what a hunter was. Getting his ass kicked would probably do him some good though, so of course Frankie felt no remorse.

That was Frankie's life; racing was her occasional escape, but she craved the hunt. Saving people, even snotty ones like that Mustang kid, hunting monsters, it was her reality and she wasn't willing to give that up. She'd been pulled into this life through tragic circumstances--what hunter hadn't been--and she accepted that.

Reaching into the glove compartment, Frankie pulled out her cell. It had been a few days since the werewolf in Colorado and Ellen had promised to find her something as soon as she could, Frankie just hadn't had the chance to call her.

The line rang twice before a woman picked up.

"Ellen."

"Hey mama." She jokingly greeted. She'd met Ellen at the Roadhouse bar back when she was just barely seventeen. Back then, Frankie had just started hunting and she had been stupid and reckless about it. It was by pure dumb luck she'd happened to hitch a ride from a certain hunter driving a black, '67 Chevy Impala whom in turn, dropped her off at Harvelle's Roadhouse.

"About time you give me a call, where the hell've you been?"

"Close." Frankie replied shortly. "You got anything?" She'd never much been the type to stay in one place too long, which was why she was always looking for a hunt to get her out on the road again. Ellen didn't entirely approve, she'd had Frankie under her wing for so long now it was difficult to remember that Jo was her only daughter sometimes.

"Yeah, something turned up."

"Always does." Frankie added, more to herself.

"Why don't you stop on by and take a look?" Though she didn't particularly like the sound of that, she knew this was Ellen's way of attempting to get her to take a break. She hadn't been by the roadhouse in almost a month, taking cases over the phone, and even if she'd never admit it she did miss them, Ellen, Jo, hell she even missed Ash and his near constant flirting.

"Sounds like a plan--oh hey,"

"Yeah?"

The question had been itching at the back of Frankie's mind for months now and though she knew it wasn't really any of her business, she couldn't help caring, "have you heard anything from John yet?"

The line fell silent for a moment, giving Frankie her answer and she couldn't help but fear the worst. John Winchester was a great hunter and normally he didn't check in with them for months at a time, but Ellen thought she had something on the yellow-eyed demon and it wasn't like John to ignore something like that.

"You know how he is, don't worry about it." Was Ellen's answer though Frankie could hear the concern in her voice. "I'll see ya when ya get here." Before she had a chance to respond, the line fell dead. Ellen was right, she had no need to worry about it and she wouldn't; she would focus her attention on hunting.