**Okay, so I started Supernatural about two or three months ago and I've just reached mid-S8. I had a really good idea for a fic, so I went for it. I don't own anything, wish I did, yada yada yada - enjoy**
The bar was busy, full of people of all ages. There were the old men who stood at the bar, buying drinks for women decades younger than themselves. Of course, they accepted these drinks, before leaving the men alone at the bar when their night finally drew to a close. Then there was the young ones. The Just-Legals. Easy to spot miles away as they slurred their words and spilled their drinks over the bar, claiming sobriety repeatedly. They were usually accompanied by The Not-So-Legals. The ones who were nodding off in the corner, with the occasional spurt of laughter or urge to take a photo with the person closest to them in a bid to remember the experience in the morning when they would experience their first hangover.
Among these people, there was a girl sitting at a small round table - suited for no more than two - who sat swirling another glass of cheap wine as she looked around the room. She sipped her drink, giving a small sigh. Watching other people fascinated her. After tonight they would go home - perhaps with someone they just met - and tomorrow they would take some painkillers, stay in bed and regret drinking so much; or wish they hadn't sang that song in the karaoke, or wish they hadn't taken that guy home with them. But for the lone girl at the small table, Wallis, she didn't have to wait for tomorrow. She figured that most people had that one thing they wished had never happened, that's why she picked this bar. It was the cheapest, it attracted the down-and-outs of the town as well as they young ones. She found an almost sadistic humour in what she could see unfolding before her, her inward narrative making unhelpful side comments every now and then. Him? Bad choice. Oh yeah, she's super into you. That drink will haunt you tomorrow, love. Sometimes she considered stopping them, maybe standing up and taking the drink away from the young girl who had school tomorrow, or asking the bar to ensure that boy gets home safe because he can't see straight any more. Every time she thought this, she would move to stand up, but then she was always halted by a small green eyed monster building inside the pit of her stomach pulling her back down into her seat. No one helped me.
She was fourteen, not long started Secondary school when it happened. Walking up the driveway Wallis noticed the strange marks on the curtains, which for a reason unknown to her had been drawn shut. She looked at them questioningly as she climbed the steps to the front door, which stood slightly ajar. It was at this moment she realised something was not right. Quickly pushing the door open, she dumped her bag and walked into the living room. Her dad stood waiting, smiling at her.
"Where's mum?" She asked.
"Around." He shrugged. Wallis flinched as her dad blinked. She could have sworn that for a split second, his eyes flashes a steely black colour. His smile grew and he advanced on her, his smile growing into a malicious and evil grin.
"Dad?" She choked, backing away. His eyes flashed black again, and he held his hand in the air. Wallis felt her feet leaving the floor, air rushing past her ears and her shoulder pop from a collision with the wall. She struggled for breath as she dangled a foot off the floor, grasping the wall for something, anything to get her down.
"You're dad's long gone. As for mummy-" He said, looking to his side. Wallis' eyes followed, meeting the sickening sight of her mothers corpse lying behind the couch. Her neck was twisted, her legs unnaturally angled. She tried to scream, but whatever restrained her breathing also restrained any chances of screaming for help. Tears perched on her eyelids as she looked away, still struggling against the wall. The last thing she remembered was a loud crashing sound, then the sudden ability to breathe again as she fell from the wall, hitting her head off the cabinet before collapsed on the ground.
When she woke up, she found herself in the back of an old Ford. Her eyes were hazy as she sat up, an old checkered blanket falling off her shoulders. She looked into the drivers seat, filled with sudden panic as she didn't recognise the driver.
"W-Who are you?!" She cried, cowering back into the seat. His head snapped back to look at her, to her relief it wasn't her dad. Her dad wasn't her dad. She grew confused and disorientated, feeling nausea brewing in her gut.
"Good, you're awake. Calm down, I'm here to help." He said, stretching a hand between the two front seats and trying to clam her. As she caught a glimpse of his face in the dark, she recognised him.
"I know you..." She breathed, trying to calm her stomach. "You were at the house a few days ago. Aren't you an electrician? How did I get here? Did you kick down the door?" She rambled on until she had to quickly stop so to stop herself from passing out again.
"Look, I'll explain in time. Right now we're going to my house. Don't worry," He said, noticing her panic. "I have a daughter, she's about your age. You can stay with us until we get something sorted." Wallis had no energy left to argue, or to question, so she nodded. Her head was still spinning, but her nausea was easing and she leaned her head against the window.
After that night, her life changed. She had been adopted by the so-called 'Electrician' a few months after the ordeal as she had no one else to live with. Her grandparents were dead and now so were her parents. His daughter, Amy, was a year younger than Wallis. It took them both a while to get used to the thought of having a sister, but they grew to trust each other, as was expected of them in Amy's family business. She learned they ways of Hunters, recited everything she could from her new Dad's journals and was taught how load, unload and clean guns. She pinned exorcisms and sigils to her bedroom walls, drumming them into her subconscious. At first it was exciting and new, but over the years as her kills and exorcisms grew, it became a burden. She and Amy were often left alone for weeks, sometimes hauled around Britain by their father to carry out their own hunts as they grew more capable. A few years after, their father died. He had been hunting a werewolf, but in the end he was outnumbered, as he had failed to realise he was dealing with more than one. It hit Amy hard, harder than Wallis. She was quiet for weeks, almost unreachable. Until one day, she emerged from her bedroom, dropped a loaded gun onto the table and vowed to finish her dad's work. Wallis supported her, as she was alone with no one but Wallis. Her dad and her mum were both gone. Wallis promised that she would do everything she could to protect Amy, in a bid to pay last respects to the man who done the same for her. They packed bags and loaded an arsenal under the seats of their newly inherited old Ford, then made their way to whoever needed them.
Wallis swallowed hard on the cheap wine, gritting her teeth as she pushed back the memories. She had come to this bar to unwind after their latest hunt. A poltergeist terrorizing Wallis' old school. She had been happy to come back, but now all she wanted to do was leave the old town and distance herself from it's painful memories.
"Buy you another?" She heard a voice ask as she sat down her empty glass. Her head clicked upwards, meeting a man with a hard but kind face. He was young, not much older than her.
"I really shouldn't." She sighed. He smiled at her, a charming glint in his eye. "Go on then, you've twisted my arm." She smiled back.
"Great." He beamed. He disappeared into a small crowd and didn't reappear until five minutes later. He sat another glass of cheap red wine in front of her and sipped on his own beer.
"Now that you've bought me a drink I guess I should probably know your name, I'm Wallis." She said, accepting her drink.
"Well Wallis, the name's Dean Winchester, nice to meet you." He said with a wink.
"So, what are you doing here? That certainly isn't a Scottish accent, hell, that isn't even a British accent." She laughed, lifting her glass to her mouth. He swallowed his beer and gave a chuckle, leaning on the table.
"You're right there, I'm here on erm, business. From America, which you have probably already guessed."
"Yeah, I guessed that much." She smirked. "What kind of business?" Dean shifted in his seat slightly, then looked to her with an eased smile.
"Family business, tying up some lose ends and - you know." He said with a shrug, lifting the cold beer to his lips again. She nodded, watching him. He was tall, with green eyes that could pierce right through you. She noticed an assortment of just noticeable freckles on his cheeks and over his nose, his lips curled into a smile as he caught her staring. "You here alone?" He checked. She nodded.
"I would be here with my sister, but she bailed out at the last minute and went back to our hotel." She sighed.
"So you're not from around here?" He asked.
"Nope, well, kind of." She corrected. "I lived here 'til I was about 14, then my parents died and I was adopted and moved to England." Dean stirred in his seat, a sympathetic look across his face.
"I'm sorry," He said, biting his lip slightly. "So what brought you back?"
"Erm, road trip - with my sister - just wanted to see the place again, y'know?" She rushed, caught of guard by the question.
"Road trip? Really? Huh, I guess I road trip a lot too, with my brother." He said, a mischievous glint in his eye as they watched each other for a moment. Their eyes were locked onto one another's as they both sipped their drinks silently.
"Nice place." Dean mumbled as they stumbled through the doorway to Wallis' hotel room. She giggled as he pushed his hand through her hair, resting his palm on the back of her neck as they shared harsh kisses and manoeuvred their way around Wallis' bags. "Thank God they only had two single rooms left." She thought as they fell onto the bed.