Caylor Winchester was an insightful kid. She knew the way reality really was, how it operated; she also knew exactly how to manipulate the way other people around her perceived that reality, the reality that she had no choice but to accept and deal with.
Reality was that there were things out there, in the dark, that you just wouldn't want to mess with. Parents always tell their kids that it's just the wind or there's nothing in the closet.
Sometimes they were right. But it's all the times that they're wrong that Caylor and her family have to intervene and that's when reality gets nasty.
The shtriga her family finally gunned down a couple nights ago back in Portland was widely accepted as a freak epidemic. Caylor couldn't help but feel thankful that they didn't know the truth. There was quite enough evil out there in the world without having to know that all the ghost stories and urban legends out there are actually true.
Unfortunately for Caylor, all the demon hunting and the seemingly endless hours of training with her two way more experienced, older brothers were not the only realities that she had to deal with and, in turn manipulate into something that wasn't happening.
It always amazed Caylor how many times she could fall without anyone there to help her back up, but she was strong and she couldn't even remember how many times she'd been able to get back up off the ground on her own, hide the bruises that served as reminders of how much of a failure she was in her fathers eyes.
She felt mildly frustrated, yet somehow relieved that she could even manipulate Sam and Dean into not knowing about what really went on every time Dad decided that I should have a "private training session" to make her improve, to make her a better hunter.
And hiding things from Sam and Dean was never an easy feat to accomplish between Dean's ever-vigilant, borderline overprotective demeanor and Sam's sympathetic need to make sure everything is always okay, stealing glances at me with those damn puppy dog eyes of his.
Caylor's mind drifted back to the one time she nearly slipped up after a particularly rough session.
Caylor tiptoed across the dingy carpet of the motel and made sure to open the door to the bathroom as quietly as possible, cringing at the soft creak and hoping it hadn't alerted the boys. That would be the last thing she needed after the one-sided boxing match with dad.
Sparring was far from her specialty, being a twelve year old girl with a fourteen year old big brother and an eighteen year old bigger brother, but her dad hated the weakness and was apparently determined to beat it out of her lately.
It must have been around ten 'o clock before the training even started and Caylor noted that it only seemed to be getting darker. Begrudgingly she mirrored her father's fighting stance, already knowing that this match was going to end very, very badly based on the angered glare in the older man's eyes, a direct opposite look from Dean's eyes earlier that day during the sparring training.
She held her own, until a blow to her head sent the world spinning off it's axis and she saw stars.
Stumbling to the ground, she could do nothing except try to go on the defensive in her disoriented state. John took it as unacceptable weakness and that only made him angrier, though Caylor wasn't exactly sure how that was possible. Kicks and punches continued to reign down on her until she had to cry out, begging for him to "please stop… I'm sorry… I'll be better…".
He was already out of control by now, though, proceeding to continue the abuse with the belt that he hastily took off, adrenaline and disgust completely overriding any sense of parenthood he might have ever have to begin with. Unfortunately, she was conscious through all of it and heard all of the insults. And even though, by now, she accepted them as true, they still cut like a knife every time they were repeated; that she was good enough, wasn't strong, wasn't the perfect soldier like her brothers.
She wasn't worth the effort it was going to take to keep her alive during hunts.
It was just after eleven 'o clock by the time she got off the ground and managed to make it to the bathroom. Sam and Dean were asleep in the motel of the month, which was odd since Dean usually went out with the newest girl and Sam had a tendency to fight tooth and nail to try and stay up past midnight. The boy never really had been a night owl like Dean.
Caylor had studied herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door for at least twenty minutes, taking in the fresh collage of purple and blue that overlapped earlier welts and bruises covering her back and ribcage. The fresh welts across her back stood out as an angry red, contrasting the bruises in a frightening fashion, and half of them were bleeding slightly.
At first glance, she really didn't look bad. Her clothes would cover the bruises. She had long, dark hair and emerald green eyes that matched Dean's to a tee. Although she looked a lot like Dean, she has Sam's personality, compassionate, yet naturally defiant. She also thought too much for her own good, just like Sam. Except beyond that surface there were the welts, the bruises, and the damaged psyche that she felt Dean also somewhat possessed. She was weak.
That was the moment Caylor swore to herself that she would never let her brothers know about this. Her father already resented her for being weak and deserving of this punishment, the last thing she wanted was for Sam and Dean to hate her also.
Subtle noises and a strange sense that something was coming up beside her made Caylor wake slightly, and being a hunter, she followed her initial instincts and swiftly swung out the silver knife that she kept under her pillow, a "precaution" she had picked up from Dean.
"Whoa, kiddo, easy there." Dean interjected, laughing slightly. "So much for scaring you awake anymore, huh. You're a quick learner. It's time to go."
Caylor quickly got ready and followed her brothers out the front door. She knew the boys had spotted a Denny's the other night on the road and she knew from experience that there was no keeping the Winchester boys from all-you-can-eat breakfast food.
She kept in mind though, that today would be the day that she would prove to herself and to her family that she was good enough to be a hunter, that she was good enough to be a Winchester.