A hunter's life

//All the usual disclaimers :)

"A hunter's life is a lonely life, Oya."

Sarah's voice kept saying this sentence, over and over again in Oya's head. She was applying some cold meat on her bruised face while staring at her own reflection in the mirror. Sarah's voice repeated Oya's mantra as if it was her own and god that was irritating. That was irritating Oya because it was true regardless of the side of the World. She used to look at her past with colour-tinted glass, parading around spouting how much better life was in Cameroon because hunters were acknowledged and sought after. the society was aware of the supernatural because it was in their culture. Legends, Myths and older religions were still prevalent to the point that it was an honour to be a hunter and a necessity. Hunters were tools, however, and while they could have families, they couldn't escape their duty. They couldn't become something else, they were stuck in this life. So she stopped gloating about how much better life was outside of America because it ended up being untrue.

The hunter's life was a lonely one. It was a life of sacrifice and pain, a life of Dilemma. Oya was familiar with it, with violence and pain. With tears that she couldn't cry anymore and those, she couldn't contain. She stared at her bruised face in the mirror and inspected every bit of it. She looked at the swollen lips and left eye, she looked at the cuts on her cheeks, chin and the larger stitched wound on top of her forehead. Oya looked down to her body, only covered by a sports bra and a pair of grey boxers. She stared at her gunshot and stabbing scars, the deep traces of the Asanbosam claws that covered both forearms, the bruises on her sides mind-absently feather touched her belly, where the most intimate scar of them all was due to a potion she drank to save a life. It was a shitty life, for whoever would look at it. She couldn't have the white picket fences life Sarah was having. Sarah opted out of the hunter's life a long time ago so she could have a family. Oya couldn't.

All of those she loved died. It felt like the universe had said so. Her family was decimated by a demon and yet Oya felt guilty for something she had no control over. She felt guilty because her brother -who became the vessel of the demon- argued with her the day before he disappeared because he wanted to prove himself. If he had not left, maybe he wouldn't have died. If he had not left, then maybe, their mother would still be alive. Oya made her peace with those events, but the absence of her family became painfully obvious as time went by. Two years went by since then but Oya felt like they were dead yesterday. It became more and more difficult as she was seeking guidance for the choices she was making and those she wanted to make. Like Sam and Dean.Oya chose to live with them since they found her at this vampire nest and rescued her. She chose to spend time with them, share her life with theirs, allow them in her heart. But they were in danger with her; Oya was convinced. She worried they might die because of her and that was one of the reasons she always had packed bags in her closet. Bags she unpacked after a while because she started to catch feelings for...

A hunter's life is a lonely life. That was true. There was no room for romance, no time for love. Oya tried that only to have it bite her in the ass. Her beloved fiancé abandoned her when she became infertile. The minute he realized he couldn't father children he became distant with her. Witnessing the death of her love was excruciatingly painful for Oya, having to fight him after he got possessed was even worse but all those traumas were bound to happen when your line of work was to deal with supernatural creatures. Fabrice died and along with him, Oya's desire to love and be loved. Or so she thought. It all was shattered when she met them. When she met him. Deep down she was aware of how he made her feel, the gentle blush, the silly smile, the genuine laugh. But there couldn't be a "us", there couldn't be a "them"...Because Oya knew, the minute it would be, then everything would be over. He would die or maybe she would die and the story would rinse and repeat itself.

A hunter's life is a lonely life. She could tell. The brothers both have been through a lot and even after she learned some of it, Oya wasn't aware of the worst. They didn't tell her everything but Oya didn't need to know. She knew pain when she saw it and she did see the pain in both brothers eyes. Sam and Dean knew what "loss" meant. They had lost everything too, family, lovers, and even life. They were themselves souls with a greater purpose than Oya could ever imagine. They were special, she knew it. Forged by Death, strengthened by Pain and sharing a bond she refused to break. Sam knew, she told him already that she would put her life in line to ensure both of them kept each other. She could sacrifice her life in the snap of a finger if that meant preserving the brothers. She was willing to die for them... She put the warmer meat on the sink and curled her fingers into fists. What could she expect from her life if not more pain and misery? She found joy in her job, in hunting actual powerful supernatural beings and defeat them. She found a purpose in this life and defined herself as a tool in service of mankind because it was easier to think of oneself as one rather than a being capable of emotion. What good could it do anyway? What good could it do to dream of something a little better than what she had? What good could it do to want more from this shitty life? What good could it do to want him?

To love him?

To need him?