Carry On

1998

Frankie collapsed into the dirt, blood dripping from her nose. The pain was excruciating and she could no longer breath through her right nostril which only frustrated her all the more. She didn't know what was broken anymore, her entire body ached and she wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hot bath and possibly pass out.

Taking a deep breath through her mouth, she pushed herself back up and onto her feet. Her knife was gripped tightly in her right hand as she wiped the blood from her face with the other.

"That's what a broken nose feels like, sweetheart." Her jaw clenched at John's words. He'd been training her for a full year and she felt as though she'd learned nothing but how to get the crap beat out of her.

John shifted positions, putting his left foot forward as he pulled his knife hand back. Frankie was determined to land something on the old man, they'd been at it almost an hour and she hadn't even touched him.

Hunching over slightly, Frankie sidestepped slowly. So far, every hit she'd taken had been at her failed attempt at a first attack.

This time, she waited for John to strike.

It wasn't immediate--he had forced her to dance for what had seemed like a good five minutes before finally lunging at the girl. The motion had nearly caught her off guard by how long it had taken, but she'd managed to twist sideways just as the knife had grazed her side. The cut wasn't too deep, but she could feel that it would probably need stitches. Fighting through the pain, Frankie grabbed a hold of John's arm with both of her hands, twisting and slamming it against her knee until the knife fell with a muffled thud in the dirt. Wasting no time, John grabbed the girl by her collar, flinging her backwards as he dove to retrieve his knife. It was in that moment, Frankie landed a kick to the old man's chin, dazing him. Rolling forward, Frankie grabbed his knife, but just as she'd started towards him she heard the metallic click of a gun cocking.

"You cheat." She panted, still holding both knives at arms length. John cracked a smile, keeping his eyes on her as he stood up and dusted his pants off.

"You think monster's play fair?" He flipped the hammer in place on his gun before shoving it back into his holster hidden beneath his jacket. "That was better, but you still haven't been practicing--come here." Frankie rolled her eyes as John cupped her face in his hands, tilting her head to the side as he examined her nose.

"It isn't exactly easy to practice here with an old lady and a little girl." She grumbled, taking in a sharp breath as John grabbed hold of her nose. She hadn't meant to sound hateful, but Ellen and Jo were beginning to grow on her and she found the thought frightening.

"Excuses." A loud crunch filled the night air as Frankie's nose was forcibly shifted back into place.

"Son of a bitch!" She screamed, cupping her nose in her hands as she doubled over. She heard John chuckling to himself as he started back towards the saloon.

"You coming, kid? You need to get stitched up." Frankie took a moment as her eyes had begun to water from the pain. She hadn't yet let John see her cry and she wasn't planning on starting any time soon. She managed to throw him a thumbs up, but not to stand up straight--with the pain in her nose, she'd nearly forgotten about the gash in her side.

"You're too hard on that girl." John paused just as he'd reached the front steps to the Roadhouse. Ellen had come out to see how they were doing and was looking agitated as she confronted him with her hands on her hips.

"Would you rather someone teach her how to handle herself or let her go out and get herself killed." Ellen pursed her lips together. She knew just as well as John how stubborn Frankie was. She'd only had the girl a year and already she was proving to be a bigger pain in the ass then she'd expected.

Stepping up onto the porch, John stood beside Ellen and watched the eighteen year old try to pull herself together, cursing out into the night. She was a tough kid, maybe not the fastest he'd seen, but the girl could throw a punch when she could land one. He'd never let her on, but she was already doing better than he'd expected.

"I'd rather she just be a damn kid." Ellen spoke softly and John could tell it was more to herself. "You know she got suspended last week for fighting?" John shrugged, crossing his arms so Ellen continued, "she's a smart kid, John. She could go to college, be somebody."

"She's becoming who she wants to be." John changed the subject. He'd had enough of 'normal life' talk with Sam, he didn't need it with Frankie as well, not when the girl had so much potential to be a good hunter. "And I'm taking her hunting next week." He didn't wait for an objection before heading back into the saloon.

"John Winchester..." Ellen began, but stopped as she noticed Frankie shuffling slowly back up to the saloon clutching her side. She gave Ellen a proud smile as she made her way up the steps.

"Did ya see that? I had him." The enthusiasm in the girl's voice nearly broke Ellen's heart. John was right, she was becoming what she wanted to be and it wasn't no doctor or lawyer--this girl was a hunter. Ellen knew better than most where that life choice got you and she'd be damned if her Jo was headed down that same road.

Ellen stopped the girl as she'd gone to make her way inside, following John. Carefully grabbing Frankie's hand, Ellen carefully pulled it back to examine the girl's knife wound. She saw no reason why John had to actually hurt the girl just to show her a few things. Frankie wasn't one of John's boys and though she was all for equality, she didn't agree with John's methods.

"Damn him." Frankie jerked her chin away as Ellen had gone to look at her nose.

"I'm fine." Frankie didn't like being treated as though she were delicate. Sure, she was breakable, but everyone was and yet hunters still managed to gank monsters. She was no different.

"Frankie--"

"I appreciate everything you've done for me, Ellen." Frankie cut her off, seeing where the conversation was headed. "I really do, but you're not my mother." Ellen straightened herself, folding her arms across her chest. This hadn't been the first time Frankie had thrown that in her face and she was sure it wouldn't be the last. "I'm gonna be a hunter."

Ellen didn't follow as Frankie made her way inside. It didn't matter how well her intentions were, she would be made out the bad guy in the situation. She didn't feel like fighting that losing argument against both Frankie and John, not this time. The girl was eighteen years old, by law she was an adult now and there was really nothing Ellen could forcibly do to change the girl's mind.

The Roadhouse wasn't particularly busy tonight. There were a few of the usuals--hunters--sitting at the bar, discussing their cases among each other. Frankie ignored the men and their stares as she made her way towards the back of the saloon where her room was. It wasn't unusual seeing the young girl stroll through the bar with a bruise or two, but this time she'd really had a number done on her and she was still smiling. It wasn't their places to judge and unlike Ellen, they knew it.

John was sitting on a stool he'd pulled next to Frankie's bed, sterilizing a needle as she'd walked into the room. It was bare, for the most part. Her bed took up most of the tiny space, even though it was pushed up against the west wall, and a small dresser was against the wall adjacent to the bed and across from the door. What little floor space she had, Frankie tried to keep as clear as possible for her morning exercises that John insisted she do every morning to work up her strength. Exercising was the easy part, Frankie had never really been out of shape as she had at one time been a cheerleader.

The memory almost felt surreal, how normal her life had been at one time. It was amazing how drastically things could change in the course of a day which was all it had taken for the demon to kill her family; one day. Now she was living in some Roadhouse in Nebraska, learning how to kill monsters and ready to be stitched up by a hunter.

"Alright, lay down." John instructed, threading the needle as Frankie sat gingerly on her bed. She'd never needed stitches before and she hadn't a fondness for needles. Nonetheless, she didn't want John to see her fear so she focused on a spot in her ceiling, laying on the bed, and thought of anything and everything to keep her mind off of the current situation.

Frankie drew a quick, sharp, breath as he had poured some alcohol into her cut. Not a moment after, the needle pierced her skin, yet somehow she'd managed not to cry out. There were no "on the count of three's" with John Winchester. He wasn't necessarily a mean man, but he meant business and wasted no time with whiners or quitters. Lucky for her, Frankie had never been much of either, especially as her arrogance normally got the best of her.

"You should have seen my oldest boy, Dean, the first time I'd had to stitch him up." Frankie was taken back by John's words. It wasn't normally like him to chat and she hadn't found him the type for small talk. Tearing her eyes away from her ceiling Frankie looked over at John. He seemed almost totally focused on the stitching apart from the slight smirk across his face as he remembered.

"What happened?" It took the focus off of her stitches for the moment, though she couldn't deny she was curious to hear a story from John. She knew he had two boys about her age, though she'd never met them--he never brought them to Ellen's.

He kept smiling for a moment, continuing to stitch the cut on her side before finally speaking up.

"The kid nearly passed out when he saw the needle." He managed through his smile. It was unusual--John smiling. It seemed natural enough, as if his face was built for it, but his circumstances kept him from doing it too much, or maybe it was just simply his front, but either way Frankie couldn't help returning it. She couldn't imagine any child of John's being afraid of anything.

"That's almost hard to believe, with you for a dad." He sat back, reaching for the scissors on the nightstand. He could see where the girl was coming from, he hadn't exactly cut her much slack in the year he'd been training her, let alone if he'd raised her.

"Yeah." There was a slight tug as he'd cut the thread. "He's a good kid though." He'd seemed deep in thought, as though saying the last bit more to himself than to Frankie. "Alright." He'd finished slapping the bandage on and Frankie sat up, walking over to her mirror. She pulled the bandage back a little, examining the crude stitch work. She'd have a scar from hell when she finally healed.

"Bad ass." She mouthed, unable to stop the smile that had spread it's way across her face. It would have been much cooler if it had come from an actual monster, but John Winchester was just as hard core she figured.

"Hey, uh..." Frankie looked back at John in her mirror as he stood up, wiping his hands off on the back of his jeans before crossing his arms.

"Yeah?"

"How'd you like to come hunting with me next week?" Frankie's mouth fell open.

"Are you serious?" She spun around to face him, slapping the bandage back on a little too rough, but ignored the sudden sharp pain. "I mean, you think I'm ready? Really?" John's face had fell. He seemed unimpressed with her sudden childish enthusiasm, but it was a sight--her smiling so big when her nose was swollen and purple.

"I've been trying to track that demon that killed your family. I'm not making any guarantees, but I think I might have him cornered. You think you'll be up for it?" His look was stern, all business, but Frankie could sense that a part of him wanted her to go. John'd been training her for a year, it'd only be right if he was the one to take her on her first hunt and after the son of a bitch that had started this all for her. He had in no way put off his own searches for the yellow-eyed demon, however the one that had killed Frankie's family hadn't been as difficult to track, meaning he must not have been a very powerful demon.

"Hell yeah." She was trying her best to sound serious, though her excitement was threatening to get the best of her. This was exactly the moment she'd been waiting on, sending the demon that had killed her father and her brother back to hell. As much as John wanted this for Frankie, a part of him wanted to be there to witness it for himself, to see if killing the thing that had started this all for her would change her mind about being a hunter because a part of him wondered--deep down--if when his mission was finally over, could he go back to the way his life was. Was it even possible? Frankie was still new to the hunter scene, was John already in too deep?

"Make sure you're ready, kid." Placing a hand on Frankie's shoulder, John gave her a stern, farewell shake. "I'll be back in a week." Without another word, he turned and made his way for the door.

"I'll be ready." Frankie responded as John's hand had gripped the doorknob. He knew she would be, the girl was tough and not just physically.

And with a short nod, John Winchester was gone again.