All right, this is my first FanFic, so be nice. This is NOT a sisfic, nor is Alec related to Dark Angel. This is AU and many characters are OC. The Winchesters and all the other wonderful people from Supernatural WILL appear in due time. And Hell, Michigan IS a real place.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters, they all belong to the CW and Mr. Kripke . Alec and the MacKennas and anyone you don't know are mine.

Smiting. Ah, how I've missed thee.

I'm currently missing you even more because I keep being told to wait in the car!

"Alec," they said, "You know you're too young to actually participate in the fighting. We don't want you getting hurt because you make some rookie mistake."

That one burned, it really did. Because we ALL knew that I could pin any one of them on a bad day with a broken ankle. Proved that one a couple months back.

But no, they still insist I'm too young and too inexperienced to actually participate in a hunt.

Which again, burns, because they all went on hunts when they were 13, if not younger.

Who are 'they'?

'They' are my brothers. All older. All freakin' 7 of them. And, if you include my dad, there are 8 of them,

Just picture it: 8 guys, ranging from 39 (my dad) to 14 (my brother Riley). All of them sitting there glaring me down (save a sympathetic look from Mick, and a pleading one from Louis to just drop it) and telling me what a terrible hunter I'd make (in as many words) while the real underlying cause is that no one wants to admit that their baby sister Ally could actually hold her own against most things dark and nasty.

Sure, they let me do all the leg work, researching and trying to pull connections out of thin air to prove that something supernatural is afoot, while they pat me on the head and tell me what a wonderful job I'm doing.

But I absolutely can not stand when the moment comes, and it always does, to tell me that I have to wait in the car.

And I never end up staying there.

Oh, it's not that I'm a bad person or I don't know how to listen to orders and follow the rules. It's that they always end up needing assistance in the end, even when they say they don't need it.

I'm sorry, that bloodthirsty spirit that's got you pinned to the floor with a couch and has a fireplace poker to your throat begs to differ.

"CRAP!"

Ah, the dulcet tones of a pissed off 20 year old. Seth is the extreme joker of the family, and also the one who whines the most. Wonder what he's complaining about now…. Probably getting his ass handed to him on a silver platter.

It's been about 2 minutes since that "CRAP". That means I should give 'em another minute before I come in and save the day. They always get really ticked at me when I do come in. Though, surprisingly enough, not when I'm actually saving their hides.

Huh.

I'm thinking I should just stick with my blades on this one. It's supposed to be a family of 5 ghosts that all decided to play Casper the I-Want -Your-Head-on-a-Stake Ghost. It's nice to know that some families still have activities that are done together. Just getting together every time someone sets foot on what used to be your land to slaughter people can show your family that you still care. How nice.

One issue with blades and ghosts- blades don't usually work on ghosts. That's mainly because they're not corporeal. Usually, that is. But blades work just as well as bullets filled with rock salt if you know how to handle them correctly. And lucky for me, I do.

I've always found guns to be too noisy and messy. Why have to reload if you could just swing and win? I personally love curved blades the best. I've got some sickle-shaped knives, an awesome battle axe, one of those curved pirate-sort of swords, and a couple of assorted switch-blades. Oh, and a couple of those razors that clip on to your pants that are used by normal people for industrial purposes. I always keep one of those on me for anything I may need-cut open a piece of clothing from a wound, stab someone you don't like, cut open letters, spread butter on toast, whatever you need.

I'll just go with my knives. They're closest on hand, and I can handle two at once. Hopping down from the cab of Chris's truck (the 19 year olds baby), I start heading up the path. No lovely friends come to bring me to my untimely death, so I'm assuming they're tied up dealing with my family right now.

Now, why even go in to the house? Because this family of psychopaths specifically had it in their wills that when they all died, which was 27 years ago, they should all be buried together.

In their basement.

How is that legal? No friggin' idea.

"Holy-"

That's my cue.

Like I said, it's my first story, so don't be too mean. I have to give a mandatory Thank You to the recipient of the pizza from the Little Hat freakin' Pizza Place (Don't ask, and you KNOW who you are). I currently have no beta, other than my little sister who appointed herself my beta, so if anyone wants to, the post is open. And if you be nice and review, the reviews may encourage my lazy side to continue writing this.