The first time she tried, it was just a pencil.

Jack had set them up in one of the quiet bunker rooms, where there were no distractions—just a few candles, a notepad, and three pencils arranged in a perfect triangle on the table.

“No pressure,” Jack said gently, leaning against the wall with that encouraging little half-smile he reserved just for her. “Just… focus. Feel the pencil. Try to move it.”

Maya narrowed her eyes at it like it had personally insulted her. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered.

“You fought off a werewolf with a broken table leg,” he reminded her, folding his arms. “You can handle one stubborn pencil.”

Maya exhaled slowly and reached inward, trying to find that strange tug again—that electric pull she’d felt during the fight. Her brows furrowed, lips pressed together… and the pencil trembled.

“Did you see that?” Jack straightened up, eyes lighting up.

“Shh—don’t distract me!” she hissed.

The pencil rolled an inch. Maya blinked. “Did I do that or was it just gravity being polite?”

Jack grinned, clearly proud. “That was you. Definitely you.”

Still, she couldn't get it to happen again. For every tiny success came ten minutes of nothing. Frustration piled up quickly, even though Jack’s voice remained calm, soothing, never pushing.

Eventually, Maya leaned back in the chair and groaned. “How does someone even have powers? This is like trying to sneeze with my brain.”

Jack chuckled and came over, crouching beside her chair. “It’s okay. It’s not about control at first. It’s about trust. Trusting yourself, your instincts.”

“I’m more likely to trust a stray raccoon with a blender than my instincts right now.”

He laughed again and brushed her hand gently. “You’re doing better than you think. You just need time.” A pause. “And maybe Cas.”

Maya tilted her head. “Why do I feel like that’s your polite way of saying you need adult supervision?”

Jack just smiled sheepishly.

---

A day later.

Maya sat across from Castiel in the bunker library. The room was dimly lit, calm, thick with the smell of old books and something like sage. The angel’s presence was quiet, steadying. He watched her, blue eyes thoughtful.

“You’re still trying to use your mind as the trigger,” Castiel said, setting a candle between them. “But power like yours isn’t summoned by logic. It’s emotional. Intuitive.”

“Great. I’m supposed to feel the candle into lighting up,” Maya said dryly, rubbing her temple.

“You’ve already done that once,” he reminded her. “When you were afraid. When you wanted to protect someone. That urge—that’s the doorway.”

Maya looked at the unlit candle, frowning. “So… think of something that makes me feel things?”

Cas nodded. “Let it rise. But don’t hold it back.”

She stared at the candle, and this time let her thoughts drift—to fear, to love, to Jack’s arms around her during the landslide, to her sister’s smile, to the moment she felt the pencil move. Her chest tightened. The candle sparked.

A thin flame jumped to life.

Her eyes widened.

“See?” Castiel said, calmly pleased.

“I actually did it,” she breathed. “Wait—what else can I try?”

“Try summoning something. Something small.”

He slid a book across the table. “Imagine it in your hand.”

Maya looked at the book. Her hand trembled slightly as she focused—and then, suddenly, the book disappeared from the table.

She yelped.

It reappeared in her lap with a faint, whispery flicker of air.

Cas raised his eyebrows. “Very good.”

Maya grinned, surprised and giddy. “Okay, okay. I’m getting the hang of this.”

He leaned forward. “You’re not just reacting now. You’re choosing. That’s the difference between raw power and true strength.”

She blinked at him. “Did you… practice that line in the mirror?”

Cas didn’t smile, but there was something amused in his eyes.

---

Later that evening.

“Alright, Sparky,” Dean said, tossing her a foam bat with a smirk. “Let’s see what your powers do when someone’s trying to whack you with a fake weapon.”

They were outside the bunker now, in one of the wide open training fields. Dean had insisted on the outdoors. “More dramatic this way,” he’d said.

Maya caught the foam bat and tilted her head. “This is how you train?”

He shrugged. “Worked for Sam.”

“No it didn’t,” Jack called from the porch, watching with mild concern.

Dean ignored him.

“Come on. You’re in a fight. You can’t think your way through everything. If someone comes at you, your power should react before you do. That’s what we’re gonna trigger.”

Maya raised the bat, grinning. “You’re just mad I moved a pencil before you ever could.”

“Oh, it’s on,” Dean growled.

They started sparring—light, playful at first. But Dean picked up speed, and soon Maya’s instincts were firing. She dodged, blocked, spun. He swung at her leg—and suddenly his bat bounced off an invisible wall.

They both paused.

Dean blinked. “Did you just—shield?”

Maya looked stunned. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t think anything.”

Dean smirked and nodded. “Exactly. Instinct. We just unlocked your oh-hell-no mode.”

Maya laughed, out of breath. “Okay, that was awesome.”

“You’re a natural. Spooky, but impressive.”

They kept going, and soon Maya felt more in control—her reactions sharper, her body lighter. Dean even gave a half-hearted bow at the end. “You’ll be fine out there. Just don’t blast my beer fridge by accident.”

“I make no promises,” she said, grinning.

---

Later, back inside.

Jack greeted her with a proud smile the moment she walked in, sweaty and flushed and glowing with energy. “Dean said you made a shield?”

Maya nodded, exhilarated. “And earlier I lit a candle with my mind. And teleported a book.”

Jack beamed like she’d just won an Olympic medal. “You’re amazing.”

“I’m getting there,” she said, brushing hair out of her face. “Still kind of terrified though.”

“You don’t need to be,” he said softly.

She leaned into him, their arms brushing. “It’s a lot. But I’m glad I’m not figuring it out alone.”

He smiled, and for a moment they just looked at each other—his gaze warm, proud, a little in awe.