Who: Veronica Mars and Sam Winchester What: Their first actual spar Where: Gym/training rooms in the basement of Pott's Tower When: Saturday afternoon Rating: SFW Status: closed; complete
Bent over in the corner of the open floor, Veronica Mars was stretching, preparing for whatever it was that Sam was about to throw at her. She had to admit, she was pretty nervous about this particular session. It wasn't that he went easy on her in training, but she felt like she had a lot to prove right now. Sam had told her he didn't see her as a damsel in distress, but Veronica still had that niggling feeling in the back of her mind. What if she tapped out early and he was disappointed in her? That would probably be the worst. Oh, he wouldn't say it. He would say she gave it a good try, but then he would say she should train more before they tried again. And always, always in the back of his mind, she imagined him thinking about her failure. She couldn't have that. If she was going to be out fighting petty criminals with Sam, Dean, Cas and Jo, she needed to show she was as strong and as capable as any of them. Well, maybe not QUITE at their level, but good enough to hold her own.
A fine mist of sweat was already forming at the base of her spine, both from her morning training and from her nerves. She stood up and shook her limbs, her muscles taut, and ready to strike. She could feel adrenaline fill her, her body on alert. She had more reasons to be on alert than just this spar session, but she didn't want to think too hard about that. Her next shift at the coffee shop was tomorrow, and certainly she would see her stalker then. She hated that she felt a little nervous about that. Knowing who he was now, she was pretty sure she could take him. Or, at least, Sparky could. Though using a stun gun was probably frowned upon while in a workplace setting, especially on customers. Even if those customers happened to be weirdo stalkers.
She glanced at the clock and watched it tick closer to the appointed time. She was as ready as she would ever be.
--
Sam was a bundle of nerves, too, but for an entirely different reason. He wasn't used to sparring like this with someone that wasn't quite on his level; he knew that she needed to have the experience of it, but he was worried about hurting her. What if he didn't pull a punch, and she didn't block it, and it knocked her out? His punches were more than hard enough to do that. If he knocked someone like Dean or Wesley out, that was one thing; they knew what they were getting themselves into. He still didn't think Veronica fully understood how well trained he was, and he was afraid that he'd cross a line.
He wanted it to be a learning experience, maybe even an empowering one, but there seemed a good chance that it might swing in the exact opposite direction and end up being something she'd have to recover from, mentally as well as physically. He trusted that she was more than strong enough to recover, of course, but that didn't mean he liked the idea of being the one who put her through that. That was why he'd insisted on a safeword ('blueberry'), and he hoped that would be enough to stop this from turning into a disaster. He knew that she had a lot of pride, but there was no use in having her get hurt just for the sake of saving her dignity. Not in his opinion, anyway.
Arriving at the gym, he smiled to see her already there and warmed up. He hadn't bothered to come early to do so himself, because it wasn't like he ever had time to do that before a real fight; he exercised and stretched on a regular schedule so that he was always ready to go, no matter where he was.
"Hey, Mars," he said, toeing off his shoes and taking off his jacket before joining her on the padded gym floor, wearing only jeans, a t-shirt, and socks. "Ready to kick my ass?"
--
Veronica glanced up as she heard the gym door open, and though she was prepared for him, she still had another small wave of nausea. This would be as ready as she would get, though she had no delusions that she would be kicking his ass the first time they sparred. First of all, she was already a bit nervous about how much taller he was than her, even as she recalled what Sam had taught her about using her small size to maneuver and take down a larger attacker. She nodded, slowly and smiled at him, mostly to calm herself down. "I was born ready for that, Winchester." She walked closer to him, muscles taut and on edge.
"So...I don't know how this actually begins. Is this like boxing where we agree with it starts or are you just going to try and sucker punch me to make sure I'm paying attention?" she asked, a bit of sarcasm pouring out. She couldn't really help it, it was a natural defense mechanism which came much more naturally than punches or blocks or kicks.
"Are YOU ready for this?" she asked, honestly, catching his eye. In some ways, she wondered if Sam found this harder than she did. He didn't seem to like taking advantage of those weaker than him, even if Veronica wasn't exactly a wimp. She needed this though, even though she was nervous.
--
Sam's smile widened a little, in a way that he hoped was reassuring. He could tell she was on edge, and couldn't really blame her; this made him nervous as well, but he was more confident in his skills than she was. "I'm not going to pitch you anything you really aren't ready for," he said. "Not saying I'll go easy on you or that there won't be any curveballs, but they won't be sucker punches. You're more than welcome to try to catch me off guard, though-- if you can, try to forget that you actually like me and pretend I'm someone that deserves it. Go ahead and try to hurt me as much as possible, I promise I can take it. It's good practice for me, too."
How many times had he been bleeding, concussed, broken, and still gotten back up? He had lost count by now. "It takes a lot to bring me down, and I don't usually stay down. So even if you think you've taken me out, don't let your guard down too soon."
That was a hard question. He wanted to say that yes, he was-- he certainly wasn't concerned for his own safety, because he trusted that even if she got carried away he would be able to defend himself well enough to avoid getting seriously injured. Being vicious was a good thing, on her end; it was more difficult for him. He considered it for a moment, watching her, and nodded. "I don't want to hurt you," he said honestly. "Or scare you. There's a fine line here between this being a good learning experience and a bad one, so stop me before it crosses that line. For my sake if not for yours, okay?"
--
Veronica nodded, and shrugged her shoulders. "I just wanted to know what I should prepare myself for. You know, mentally. I know you might hurt me, actually that you WILL hurt me and that's the point, but you know, it takes me a second to adjust to the fact that I'm fighting with my boyfriend and it's not a situation where I should be calling the cops." She probably shouldn't be joking like this, but it helped her get ready, mentally. If her mind was sharp, her body and reflexes would be too, right?
"Okay," she said, after listening to his ground rules. Right, enough talking. He didn't come to hear her talk a non-existent game. Finding something deep inside, she gathered her strength and trying not to show too much wind-up so he could anticipate her movements, she shot out a quick punch to his side, where his kidneys would be. Sucker punch? Yes. But well, he could take it right? So it would begin. She was expecting it to hurt more, but she was excited, and even though she probably didn't hurt him as much as she wanted to, she realized she could do this. Probably.
--
That got a little chuckle out of Sam, because it was true. "It's true, I feel a little bit abusive just thinking about it," he admitted, though it was intended to be somewhat humorous. "Even though I know I'm really not."
At least he could rest assured that she knew he would never even consider physically attacking her for any other reason than to teach her how to defend herself. He was a formidable opponent but also a safe one, because even if she didn't give the safe word or tap out, he would stop himself before actually doing any serious harm. He knew how to have precise control over each of his blows and moves in a fight and he was just going to have to figure out how to balance between giving her a hard time and not simply picking on her.
Since he had just told her that she should try to catch him off guard, he wasn't terribly surprised that she tried it immediately. Even with minimal wind-up, he saw it coming: the punch landed, but a split second later his hand was on her wrist to hold her there, and then he was stepping sideways into her guard, bringing his free elbow up and around towards her head. It wouldn't be a knock-out blow, but he was still mentally praying that she'd block it.
--
"Even if I walk away bloody and with a black eye, we know it was consented to," she said, raising her eyebrow and giving him a wry smile. She didn't let herself settle too much into joking. It would make it too hard to actually fight him if she did, and she intended to hold her own. At least, as best she could and to not make too big a fool of herself.
Of course, he didn't take too much of her punch. It was to be expected, he had really attuned reflexes, but she still had to be sharp to block his elbow before she got the black eye she had just been joking about. Her adrenaline picked up again, and she could feel her heart beating as she pushed off him and tried to go for his legs. She knew the weak spots...eyes, instep, groin, neck...but she didn't want to resort to those too soon. They would work well on someone less adept than Sam, sure, but he'd block those too easy this early into fighting. She braced herself, trying to anticipate his moments, but quickly realizing she didn't have the same sense for it that he did and that this would be even harder than she had assumed.
--
"Just make sure I look at least as bad," Sam said, returning the wry smile. This was hard on both of them in different ways, but they were both invested in her learning how to fight and defend herself. The only way to teach her the kind of instinct and speed that she would need in a real situation was to spar, but the emotional cost of it could end up being pretty damn high.
He felt an inordinate amount of relief when she blocked his elbow swing. It was a move he'd shown her already-- really, he had shown her just about every move in the book by now-- so she had at least some idea of what to anticipate when he grabbed her hand. She got away cleanly, and he lowered himself into a fighting stance, prepared for anything. Their difference in size mostly gave him an advantage in terms of reach-- she had to put herself within reach in order to land any blows on him, and being within his reach was (if one happened to be someone that he intended to harm) a very dangerous place to be.
With his knees bent, he absorbed the kick, taking one step forward to avoid losing his balance. Then he continued forward, towards her, coming in with both hands up on guard, and swung a punch towards her shoulder.
-- "Oh trust me, that's my goal," she returned, her eyes twinkling. Part of her wished they could just tease and not have to worry about the rest of it, but that would mean not being trained enough to go out on calls with Sam and the rest and she didn't know how much longer she could stand hanging back. She wanted Sam to trust her and think her an asset fighting crime, not a liability. She tried to push out of mind any of the other fights she had been in, when she wasn't quite as equipt to protect herself. She hated that feeling. She knew she had been skills now, but it would be many more sessions like this before she figured Sam would be comfortable with her holding her own. But she WOULD get there. She'd be bloody and bruised every day if it meant she learned and was ready.
She was slightly disappointed that he blocked her kick so easily. She was even more disappointed when his punch landed on her arm. She didn't cry out, but it hurt even through her adrenaline, which is probably the only reason she didn't crumple in pain. She hopped back a bit, trying to put some distance between them. She had to rethink her strategy. He was so TALL and his limbs were so long that it was hard to get close enough to land a blow. She knew what she wanted to do, but it took her a second to think if a plan. She shook her shoulder, which thankfully had gone numb, and faked a lunge left before rolling to her right and punching at his hip. It wasn't quite where she wanted to hit, but her aim wasn't the best. She hopped up on her feet and wiped her brow. She shrugged. "Didn't work quite how I wanted," she said, smiling a bit mischievously.
--
Sam could tell he'd hurt her, and seeing it in her expression hit him much harder than any of her blows had so far. For a moment he felt a little bit frozen, and then her punch hit his hip. Now that his mind wasn't quite in the game, he was more aware of the pain of it-- still not particularly bad, but enough to jolt him back to awareness of what was going on. After a brief hesitation, he straightened up and spread his hands in a gesture akin to surrender.
"I'm sorry," he said, "I can't do this." He raised a hand to run through his hair, trying to figure out how to make this work. He still wanted to help her learn how to do this properly, but how did they get there without him feeling like he was just beating her up? "I'm willing to just defend myself, if you want to practice actually trying to take someone down. But I can't… I hate hurting you, even if you want me to do it. It feels awful."
--
She was surprised to see him put her hands up, and her brow furrowed when he stopped. Why was he STOPPING? It was one little mistake, she would get in the groove soon, she was sure of it. She quickly tucked a whisp of loose hair behind her ear and as he started talking, dropped her arms in frustration. "Sam, don't give up now! I made one little mistake! Come on, the hit wasn't that bad, some ice and I'll be fine!" she protested. She saw the look pass over his face and wasn't sure what it was. Was he disappointed in her? She sighed in frustration, not sure what else to do.
"You didn't really HURT me, Sam. And how am I ever going to learn if no one will give me a real scenario? What's the point of the safeword if you're just going to stop the first time you hit me? I'm not made of glass, Sam. I can take it. Can we just continue? " She looked at him, her eyes pleading. If he was going to give up on her now, she'd never get good enough to go out and help. He'd never trust her. "You're fine, okay? It was one hit."
--
"I know you can take it," Sam said, closing his eyes briefly as he ran both hands over his face. "It's me that's having trouble with it." Truthfully, with every second that passed, he was starting to feel more than a little bit ill, and he didn't even really know why. She had asked him to give her a challenge, and to come out swinging, and he knew that the hit he'd landed wasn't even that terrible. It just felt horribly wrong, deep inside of him, to hit her at all.
But he knew that she needed to learn, so he felt utterly torn, logic and emotions warring inside him. Finally, he nodded. He wasn't going to be able to throw any more real punches, or kicks, at least not today, but he could still give her a challenge. It would cost him, but if it saved her life at some point, it would be worth it. Steeling himself, he shoved all of it deep down inside, locking his emotions down tight, and lowered himself back down into a fighting stance, jaw set. "Alright. Go again."
--
Veronica watched Sam with her brows knit, confusion still plain over her face. Was he stopping because he REALLY thought she could handle it and just was having issues with it, or was that just to make her feel better? She tended to think the former, but she couldn't quite understand why. Didn't he want her ready to protect herself more than anyone did? Wasn't he the one to suggest this all in the first place? She rubbed her temples, willing herself not to be angry with him. If he was having trouble sparring with her, perhaps it was for good reason. Even if she couldn't understand what that reason was. "Can you tell me why?" she asked softly, though her voice still echoed in the empty practice room.
She shifted uncomfortably on her feet, hesitating. Sam could probably end up hurting her more if he wasn't comfortable doing this. Even worse, if he didn't really work with her, and she didn't know that, she could have an overinflated opinion of her own skills. Neither of those would help her much. His jaw looked determined, but she wasn't sure what this change that went over his face was about. It wasn't a look she recognized, and to be honest, it was a bit frightening. It looked like someone wearing a Sam mask, not her Sam at all. She stepped back. "Sam...can you explain what's wrong before we do this again? Because I'm worried you're not really going to do this again, and I just want to understand, okay? You suggested it. And I WANT to learn, to be able to be trained and to HELP you."
--
Sam relaxed his stance and straightened, closing his eyes again. He raised a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose with three fingers as he tried to sort out his thoughts. It was difficult, because he'd just shoved all his feelings away, and he didn't really want to let them back out again, but this obviously was something they needed to sort out before going forward.
"I don't…I don't know," he said finally. "I believe in you, and I want to help you, so that you can help us. But I really-- I really hate seeing you hurt, even a little, and knowing it's because of me. It would probably be easier if you were used to it and I know that you can't get used to it unless we start out like this, and I thought I could take it, but… that doesn't really make it any easier to actually do it."
It was a truly uncomfortable feeling, not unlike the way he'd felt after consuming enough demon blood to kill Lilith; that had been at least partly physiological, but maybe some of the 'change' he'd felt then had just been his conscience twisting around inside him. His soul, that was there to make him suffer whenever things were wrong. It was really damnably good at doing that, creating that hollow and awful feeling in his chest all the way down to his gut. "I can't do all of it, not right now, but I'll work up to it, okay? You're not the only one who has to get better at this."
--
At first Veronica was a bit annoyed at the way Sam was pinching the bridge of his nose-it made it seem like he was frustrated with HER and she started to worry that he was angry that she hadn't been as prepared for this as he had hoped. She wanted to shake him, to say he was being ridiculous for getting so worked up over her getting hit ONCE, and then he started talking. Her furrowed brows unknit, and her clenched fists relaxed. Oh. Oh. He wasn't angry or upset she hadn't done well, he felt bad about hitting her. Suddenly she felt terrible for having been upset with him. He just cared about her. She hadn't even really considered the psychological consequences of asking her boyfriend to actually fight her. "Sam..." she said, her voice catching. She closed her eyes and shook her head, stopping herself from getting upset. "I didn't even think...I'm sorry," she said. It was true, she HADN'T thought about Sam having a hard time with this. She figured that he had sparred with Dean and Jo plenty of times and didn't think it would be any different with her, but that was a stupid assumption. Of course it would be hard for him.
He was only human. And that was important, because even he forgot that sometimes. If he ever wondered why she loved him, she supposed to could mention this moment, in a weird way, though she didn't think he'd find it amusing if she mentioned it now. She relaxed, and walked close to him, finally wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his chest. "You don't have to do this now. We can find another way. Maybe Buffy or Jo can spar with me. I'm sorry, I didn't even think about what this would be like for you. That was selfish of me. Sam, I don't want you to feel guilty about hurting me. It matters to me so much that you wanted to help me improve, but I can't make you keep going if it bothers you this much. That would just be cruel, and I'm not that."
--
"I didn't think, either," Sam said, feeling defeated. On top of everything else, he felt guilty for not being able to help. It had taken him completely by surprise, because he'd thought he had it all rationalized and mentally sorted out. "It was fine when you blocked me, it only became a problem when… I can handle all of it except actually hurting you."
That was probably why it was different with Dean and Jo. They very rarely let him do any actual damage, and vice versa; being more evenly matched in speed and training meant that their blows towards each other were blocked more often than not, especially with Dean. Their sparring wasn't really about hurting each other most of the time, it was about close combat in which they tried to gain the upper hand and pin the other down.
He made a helpless gesture with one hand, the one he had used to punch her, and then raised it to scratch at the back of his neck. The feeling was dissolving, slowly; it went away even more when she moved closer and hugged him, diluted by the reassurance that she wasn't really in pain. Wrapping his arms around her in return, he smiled a little and said lightly, "It would still be good practice for you to try kicking my ass, and I'm totally fine with that."
-- "I think it's clear that one of us needs to be thinking at all times," she said, trying to make light of the situation. She didn't like the fact that he sounded like he was giving up. Even though she knew he wasn't upset at HER, it still made her upset in return. She didn't like this feeling. As nervous as she had been about this, it was somehow worse that they hadn't had more than 5 minutes of sparring before they were giving it up as impossible. "You didn't hurt me that bad, Sam. I know it seemed bad because it was the first time you've hit...it wasn't that bad. I COULD still spar with you, but it's no good if you can't actually commit to it. And I don't want to make you do that." She sighed, though she felt a bit less angry and a bit more sad. This would likely set her back on making progress towards helping them out. And even though he said it didn't, she'd worry he'd keep coming back to the shot she DIDN'T block every time they went out looking to stop crime. She wanted this, needed a purpose, and now it felt so far away.
She smiled into his chest at his suggestion, though it still felt a bit empty. She could punch a bag and get the same effect if Sam wasn't going to fight back. What she needed more of was reflexes and real scenarios, not a punching bag. "I did try to kick your ass. And anyway, I'm not all that keen on hurting you just to hurt you. I just think I should talk to Jo or something to practice. Because what I need is instinct and reflexes and practice knowing what to do in situations that come up on the fly. Kicking you a lot won't do that. But thank you for the offer, tree." She pulled back and looked at him, trying to read his expression. It was hard to tell, she couldn't tell if he was sad or frustrated or what. She cared about him so much but his expressions were sometimes hard to understand fully. She reached down and took his hand, the one that had hit her shoulder, in both of hers and brought it to her lips.
"Thanks for trying anyway," she said, bringing his hand to her face. She closed her eyes and leaned into him. They might not be able to spar, at least until she got better, but that might not be a terrible thing.
--
"I can still make it a challenge for you," Sam said. She seemed to think that he just meant he was going to stand there and let her hit him, but he didn't. "Like I said, I just need to get used to the idea, and I need you to get better at blocking me, and then it won't feel so much like I'm just beating you up."
He was glad that she understood, but he also felt like she'd gone from taking it personally to being overly sympathetic. Yes, it had deeply upset him to actually punch her, but he knew how to fight to disarm rather than harm, too. He allowed her to kiss his hand, but then took a step back, a little bit of the original fighting spirit back in his face and a light in his eyes. Lowering himself back into a fighting stance, he beckoned her with both hands, a slight smile on his face. "Come on, try me."
--
Veronica's head quirked, uncertainty clear on her face. She wasn't sure what they would do differently this time that was any different from before, so she was unclear how this would be any different than other practice sessions. If he wasn't going to TRY to go after her, then this was just any other training session. She tried to hide the frustration from her face. She was confused, she was on edge, and she was a little tired. She didn't want to give up, but this pause had made her lose a lot of her energy and adrenaline. She didn't know if she could get back into fight mode as quickly as Sam seemed to.
She took a step back and rubbed her forehead for a moment, trying to get back in fight mode. He looked eager, but she wasn't sure what he wanted. "What do you want me to do?" she asked at last, shrugging her shoulders, rotating them a bit. Her one shoulder was a bit sore now that her heart rate had slowed. "You already know how to block me, shouldn't you come after me so I can practice blocking YOU?"
--
Jesus, he'd really fucked this one up. Sam now felt much worse for interrupting their sparring session than for landing the blow, because it felt like giving up, which was worse. He could handle a little bit of psychological distress; it would hardly be the first time, and he was going to handle much worse in his future. Even though it had been enough to pull him up short, he wasn't willing to leave it like this. Even though she understood, neither of them were happy about it, so he was determined to fix it.
Straightening, he said. "Alright, here's the thing. The part that bothers me is when you're hurt, not the part where I'm on the offensive. I'll pull my punches until you start being able to block them better, that's all. It'll still help you get used to the flow of it."
--
Veronica let out a slow breath and nodded, trying a smile. She was off her game now, but that didn't mean they needed to waste a workout. Maybe he was right. They could work back up to where they were, she could hone her muscles, get her reflexes in check again. She hopped from foot to foot for a moment, trying to get her blood pumping again. "Okay. Well, then lets try that then," she said, shaking her arms out again. She knew the one thing she had at the moment was that he wasn't quite prepared for it.
Without thinking for a moment, she made a quick jab for his stomach and quickly dodged behind him, trying to anticipate where his move would come from. She wanted to show him she COULD block him, even if she had missed that once. It was a mistake, and she wouldn't be making it again. She felt ready for whatever he threw at her, though perhaps not so full of energy as she had been a few minutes before.
--
Sam actually laughed when she caught him by surprise; not entirely taken off guard, of course, but in her defense that was incredibly difficult to do. The jab to his stomach hurt, mainly because his adrenaline wasn't quite going yet either, but the only sign of it was that he bent at the waist just a little bit when her hand hit. She was fast, and she would get even faster with practice; that would prove to be a good (and necessary) advantage against someone bigger than her.
"I'm going to start calling you suckerpunch," he said, grinning almost mischievously as he spun to face her. He feinted a punch with his left hand and then swung with the right, focused and controlled and ready to pull it back at the last second if she didn't get her guard up.
--
Veronica smiled when her punch landed, and he managed to grin at her. This was much better. At least, it was closer to what she hoped some of the interaction would be. Except for the part where they were trying to hit one another, at least. On his case, trying to try. Or something. "I suppose it could go with Sprout, couldn't it?" she mused, laughing. She saw his feint and anticipated his punching the other direction, easily blocking his shot, deflecting it with a bit of force. She kept her feet moving, and danced a bit before changing direction and reaching to hit him along the way. She recognized that she'd never have reach or force on her side, but she did have speed and agility. That, and the element of surprise. She had to keep using that as much as possible. "Something to be said for Suckerpunch. I'm always keeping you on my toes anyway," she added, smile forming.
--
"I've also been considering cricket," Sam said, feeling pleased and a little bit proud when she saw right through his feint. He blocked her punch by taking hold of her wrist again, this time pulling her closer and bringing his knee up, aiming for her gut. A moment later he brought up his free elbow as well, swinging towards her face. Neither blow would land hard if she missed them, because he was determined to avoid messing it up by doing something that would jolt him out of it again. "As in Jiminy, because you're sort of like my conscience."
Though, they were both more relaxed even than they had been when they'd first started, and she seemed to be gaining confidence already. He was hopeful that this was going to end on a good note.
--
Breaking his hold and deflecting his elbow, Veronica laughed as she spun and lunged to send a quick jab towards his shoulder. She didn't expect to land much, but it was more about showing that she could block HIM, since he seemed to have such a problem with hurting her. Or just seeing that he COULD hurt her. In any case, her smile was firmly in place once she was now behind him, shifting her weight between her feet, anticipating his next moves. "I don't think you need me to be your conscious. But I guess I do keep you somewhat attached to reality. Now, give me a challenge," she taunted, giving him a cheeky grin.
It was much easier to do this when they were joking with one another. She was ready for whatever he had to throw at her. Well, probably she was. At least she was getting the rhythm of his movements down. She had a better sense of what the flickering movement of his muscles meant, where he was planning on striking. That was the most important part of this exercise. She needed to hone that, otherwise she'd never make it in a real setting.