CONTENT WARNING: Implied psychological and physical abuse of a child in this chapter.

~ ~ spn ~ ~ spn ~ ~ spn ~ ~

"Zan!" I heard Ellen calling me, "Zan, come on inside now."

I slowed the swing and then stopped it, and walked in to the kitchen. The dishwasher was humming and the windows were steamed up. Ellen was putting leftovers into plastic containers.

"I want you inside before we open for the night," she told me, "Sam'll be in to check you in just a minute."

I felt nervous, but I sat down at the kitchen table to wait.

"You want to read tonight? Jo found a box of some of her old books, she's got some Nancy Drews and some of the Little House books too. Or you can watch another movie," she offered.

I shrugged.

The kitchen door opened and Sam came in holding a small duffle bag, which he set on the table next to me and opened. "Hey, is it all right if I take a look at your stitches?"

"I, uh, I-" I said nervously, glancing at Ellen, "I don't—I don't- people aren't s'posed to touch me," I whispered, "I—I don't like it."

"I'll be right here with you, sweetie," Ellen told me.

"I'm not going to hurt you, okay, I just want to look," Sam said reassuringly, "I swear I won't do anything without telling you first, all right?"

"O-okay," I nodded. Ellen stepped next to me and took my hand.

"All right, I'm going to lift your shirt so I can look at your chest," Sam told me, looking at my face. I nodded, and he did so. He shifted so that he could see where the stitches went to the side a ways.

"I'm going to touch the end of the stitches, okay?"

I nodded again. He gently touched the stitch and the skin around it. "Looks good," he commented, "Now, I have to take off the bandages and put some fresh ones on, are you okay with that?"

"Uh- okay," I said hesitantly.

"All right, I'm going to remove the tape. This is going to feel like pulling, you let me know if it hurts," He slid his fingernail under the edge of the tape and started to pull it off of my skin.

I gasped a little at the uncomfortable sensation.

"Don't watch, darlin'," Ellen told me.

I turned my head and closed my eyes, and started to sing to myself a little bit. It was what I did for Iz when she was upset, it helped her to calm down.

"Oh show me the way to the next whiskey bar, oh don't ask why, oh, don't ask why..."

Sam chuckled, "You like The Doors?"

"They're my dad's favorite," I said, "And that's my sister's favorite song."

Sam laughed, "The song about the whiskey bar is your sister's favorite song? What does your dad think about that?" He set the used bandage on the table.

"He thought it was funny," I said, "'Specially 'cause she couldn't say the words right."

"Okay, I'm going to clean your wounds with this," he showed me a packet of wipes, "it's going to feel cold."

I gasped a little bit, he was right, it was cold.

"All right, new bandage," Sam told me, "Why couldn't she say the words right?"

"She was only four years old," I explained, "She sang, 'oh moo, of balabama, we now mus' say guh-byeeee'. It always made Mom and Dad laugh."

Sam smiled, and Ellen said, "That's cute."

"She thought it was a song about the cow jumping over the moon," I told them, and smiled at the memory. Sometimes she'd sing it real loud, and we had been in a store one time and a old lady had gotten a shocked look on her face when Iz had sung the line about the whiskey bar.

"All right, I'm done with your chest, now I want to change the bandage on your arm," Sam said, "That okay?"

I nodded. He put my shirt down and then got out some more gauze pads. I watched as he wiped his hands with a wipe and then got out another roll of tape.

"My Dad doesn't like your Dad," I told Sam softly.

He chuckled, "Dean told me what you said in the car. There's a few people out there who have the same opinion, my Dad can be...hard to work with sometimes. He's gruff and he likes to be the leader and expects his orders to be obeyed, and some hunters aren't expecting that. But Dad was in the miltary, and he led a battalion of men in Vietnam, so he still has that mindset, you know?"

"My Dad says he's not there to make friends, he's there to kick some ass, I mean butt," I amended quickly. I wasn't supposed to say cusswords, even though he said them all the time. I glanced up to see if one of them was going to smack my head like Dad did when I said a cuss, and then I relaxed when they didn't.

"Yeah, that's kinda my Dad's thought process as well, get in, get the job done, trade information, no time for chit-chat or friendships. Okay, gonna take the bandage off your arm," he told me. The tape on my arm didn't hurt as much coming off.

"I'm going to lift your arm and touch the wounds," he said, and he took my wrist and turned my arm, and touched the skin around the cuts lightly, bending forward to look at them. He looked up at Ellen. "The edges have come together well but it's a little red, keep an eye on her and let me know if she starts running a fever," he told her.

He looked at me. "I'm going to clean it now, and then put a new bandage on."

He wiped the cuts gently and then opened some gauze packets and re-bandaged my arm. "There, all done," he said, picking up the wrappers and crumpling them together.

"Thanks, 'doc'," Ellen said with a smile, "You want a shot of somethin' from the bar?"

Sam shook his head, "No thanks, not supposed to drink on a case," he said.

"Um, thank you," I said shyly.

"You're welcome," he said, "Tell me, or Ellen, if you start feeling different, okay? Or if anything starts to hurt or you feel bad."

"Yessir," I nodded.

The kitchen door opened and Dean stuck his head in, "Hey Sammy, Ash created a computer program that shows all the caves in the area, we can try and pinpoint the Wendi- oh," his green eyes took in the open med kit on the table and Sam cleaning up.

"Am I interrupting?" Dean came into the room.

Sam stood up. "No, I'm done." He threw the trash away and went to wash his hands in the sink. "You said Ash created a new program? This I gotta see."

I stood up to follow him, and Ellen said, "Let's get you set up in the family room again."

I followed her down the hall and sat on the sofa again while she found a movie for me. This time it was the old Disney movie that was Robin Hood with animals. Iz and me had seen it once and the snake guy had made her laugh really hard.

Later when we had gone to bed she kept hiss-talking like him and making me giggle, and then Dad had stomped into the room and...the rest of the evening had not gone well. He had yelled and then made me leave the room and sleep on the sofa, which sent Iz into a fit, 'cause she wouldn't sleep alone for anything. Which just made him madder, and then he yelled more, and then he yelled louder, and she went more into her fit 'cause she didn't like loud noises. I had had to run in and put myself between them before he put his hands on her. He ended up putting his hands on me instead, but after it was all over, he let me sleep with her again. It took me a long time time to fall asleep that night because I hurt everywhere.

I dreamed of... The Dog. The Black Dog, huge, bigger than I had ever imagined, coming after me in the woods, stalking me, pacing behind me as I tried to get away...and then It had jumped on me and grabbed me.

But It didn't kill me right away, it had seemed...like It was playing with me. It knocked me down and stood over me breathing Its stinking breath in my face, and then backed up and let me stand and walk away...and then It had knocked me down again and dragged me across the clearing.

Then It had walked away again. It was only after I had gotten tired of this, and found a big branch, and started swinging at It, that It had come after me for real. Its hackles had gone up and Its eyes had flashed red and It had growled deep in Its throat and that was a sound I never want to hear again in my life. It had knocked me down again, snarling and chuffing, and I had screamed and fought, and I had felt Its teeth on my neck, biting down, and I had screamed-

"Zan! Alexandra!" a woman's voice said urgently, "Alexandra, wake up!"

I felt something wet on my face.

I opened my eyes, and Ellen and her husband stood over me, looking down at me.

"Darlin', what in the world were you dreamin'?" Ellen asked me. She sat down next to me on the sofa and wiped my face off with the damp washcloth she held.

I grabbed at her, my chest heaving, and told her about the time Dad had taken me to the woods and told me this was a test of my tracking skills and that I had to find my way back to him. He had left me, and I had gotten lost, terribly lost, and I had panicked. It had gotten dark and then The Black Dog had come after me. Every once in while Mr. Harvelle would ask me a question. Ellen rubbed my back as I sobbed and talked. Then she pulled back and looked down at me.

"Honey, it lookes like one of your stitches is split," she said. There was a spot of bright red blood on my shirt.

She looked at her husband. "Go and get Sam, tell him to come here, would you?"

I cried into Ellen' shirt as Sam checked my stitches, and then he bandaged the end of the one part that had gotten pulled out rather than re-stitch it. Then he carried me up to the bedroom and Jo came in and sat with me until I fell asleep.

I didn't tell them what had happened after, how Dad had been so angry with me for fighting the Black Dog. He had said I might have driven It off and then he wouldn't have had the chance to kill It, and I almost fucked everything up with that stupid-ass stunt, and that I was never to do something like that again. I had had to stay indoors at the motel until the bruises had healed enough that they weren't noticeable.

Because I had a split stitch, Ellen wanted me to rest the next day, with as little movement as possible. She set me up on the couch with the remote and a bunch of snacks, and Jo brought me her box of books. I looked through them but nothing really caught my eye.

When Jo came to check on me I asked her if she could bring my back pack to me. When she walked back into the room, she said, "Did you look through the books at all?"

I shrugged. "Just not in the mood to read," I said.

"Do you not like these?" she shuffled the books around in the box and pulled one out. "This one was one my my favorites. Boy, I hated Nellie Oleson," she chuckled, "I loved her descriptions of going into town," she looked at me.

"I only, uh, I only read like the first one or two of them," I said.

Mom had tried to read them to us at bedtime but all the detailed descriptions of everything had bored Iz. She liked stories about talking animals, and books with lots of brightly colored pictures.

Sam walked into the room. "How are the stitches feeling today?" he asked.

"Okay so far," I told him. I pulled out the bag of crayons and one of my coloring books.

"Those have seen better days," he commented.

"Huh?" I asked, confused.

"Your crayons. They're all broken and worn down."

"They still color," I told him, "They're me and Iz's."

"Can I see one of your coloring books?" he asked.

After I nodded, he reached into the backpack and flipped through the books, then pulled one out. "This is cute," he commented, starting to page through it.

"Hey!" I grabbed it away from him and held it to my chest, "Don't—don't touch that one!"

"Okay, I'm sorry," he said sincerely, "What'd I do?"

"That's Iz's coloring book. Only hers. No one else can touch it except me," I said with agitation.

"Okay, sweetie," Jo said calmly, "We won't touch it anymore, will we Sam?"

"Nope," Sam agreed, "You all right?"

"Yeah," I said, "I'm gonna color now, 'kay?"

"All right, we'll leave you be," Jo stood up. "I'll be back to check on you in a while."

I sat at the kitchen table eating a turkey sandwich for lunch. Ellen had cut the bread into a circle for me. She was standing at the stove, cooking something in a huge pot. The other men were standing around eating too- the plastic containers holding last night's leftovers were scattered across the table.

Mr. Winchester stepped close to the table. "I got the report from my boys about what happened to you, I'd like to hear your experience," he said. His voice wasn't all abrupt like it had been the night I had been rescued.

I looked up at him. "Well, um, I was sitting in the cabin and I heard my Dad calling for me."

"What did he say?"

"First he said, Alex, come here, I need your help."

He nodded. "Uh-huh, and what did you do?"

"I left the cabin and tried to listen...I wasn't sure what direction to go in so I just...started walking," I started to blush, "I know you aren't s'posed to do that, you gotta look for clues to figure out where the person went, but it was mostly dark, and when he had left earlier I didn't see what way he went."

"You're doin' good, kid," Mr. Singer said encouragingly.

"I was walking for a while-"

"Do you know for how long?" Mr. Winchester interrupted me.

I shook my head. "I'm not good at...that neither. Tellin' how long it's been," I looked down at my sandwich, "then I heard him calling again, for help."

"What did he say, his exact words," Mr. Winchester said.

"He said, umm, 'Alex, Alex, help me!' I tried and I listened but I couldn't figure out which way it was coming from! It sounded closer but I just couldn't tell!" I felt close to tears.

Ellen stepped over to me and put her hand on my arm. "It's all right, breathe, darlin'," she smiled at me.

"I called out, 'Dad I'm trying, where are you?' and then I started running and I tripped over a log, and then...it got really weird, everything went quiet."

"What do you mean?" Mr. Harvelle asked.

"All the noises stopped- the crickets and all, it was completely quiet. And I got goosebumps and I could just...feel...that something was wrong, you know?"

Ellen brought me a glass of orange juice and I took a sip. "And then I got knocked down by it, whatever it was, and I tried to fight it and I screamed, and it grabbed me, but it seemed like it had trouble holdling on to me 'cause it had a long cut in its shoulder that was bleeding I guess? I started to hear noises and then someone yelled 'Hey!' and shot it, and I saw the bullet go into its chest and it dropped me and I tried to get away."

"Did the bullet do anything to it?" Mr. Winchester asked.

"Uh-uh. It just kinda jerked backwards and it started to bleed, but that's all. Then I heard someone say, uh, they said, 'shit, it didn't work, what now' and another voice said, 'try this, catch'."

I paused and looked up at them, nervous that I was going to get scolded or smacked for saying a cuss. When no-one said or did anything, I continued, "The thing was starting to bend over me again and it grabbed for me and that's when it scratched me. Then there was another loud bang and I saw something light go through the air and into the creature's chest. What was that?"

"A flare gun," Mr. Winchester told me, "What happened to the creature?"

"Well first it's chest lit up and then it caught on fire and it was roaring and it fell backwards and burned up," I looked down at the plate, having lost my appetite.

I looked up at Ellen. "I'm not hungry anymore," I whispered. All the men were looking at me.

Mr. Harvelle stepped over to me and patted my back. "You did good, Zan, you were a very brave girl. Thank you for telling us about what happened."

"Thank you," Mr. Singer said.

"What happened after that?" Mr. Winchester was still watching me.

"Sam and Dean were there and they looked at me and I think it was Sam said I was gonna maybe need a lot of stitches, and Dean said they'd take care of me. I tried to walk but my legs got all shaky so Dean carried me out of the woods," I told him, "Did you find my dad yet? Do you at least know where he went?"

Mr. Winchester shifted and glanced at the other men. "No, we...haven't found him yet."

"What was that thing?" I asked.

"Darlin', you don't need to know-" Ellen started, and I interrupted her, "Yes I do! I'm not a dummy, I been with Dad when he was hunting things, and I've seen some, you know?"

Ellen was looking at her husband. After a long moment, where they seemed to be doing that same 'talking without words' thing, he nodded. "It was a Wendigo. Do you know what that is?"

I shook my head. "Uh-uh."

"It's a creature that was once human, but it changes after it eats human flesh. It...captures people and takes them to its lair," Mr. Harvelle told me.

"Do you...do you think it got my dad?" I asked, "How could it have got him if I heard my dad calling me? Shouldn't he have been nearby?"

"Well, the thing is, it can mimic human voices. So...there's a good chance that it had already gotten your dad."

"Does that mean he's dead?" I exclaimed.

"No, kid, it don't," Mr. Singer said quickly, "They usually have a lair or nest that they take their...victims to, and they keep 'em there for a while. We're still searching for this one's nest. There's a lot of caves in the area, so it's slow going."

"So you haven't found him? Are you gonna...will you tell me when you find it? And him?" I looked at all of them, "Can I go with you to help look?"

Mr. Harvelle glanced at the others. "No, hon, it's best you stay here. We'll tell you...whatever we find, all right?" His phone buzzed and he pulled it out and looked at it. He turned to Ellen. "Delivery truck's almost here, I'll go meet 'em out front."

"Oh, they better have everything this time. They tell me that the bourbon's on back order again and I'm gonna raise hell," Ellen said.

"Calm down, woman, I got this," Mr. Harvelle kissed her cheek and walked out to the bar.

"If you gentlemen want a beer, help yourselves," Ellen said.

"No, we've got to get back out there," Mr Singer told her. "Winchester? You ready to go?"

"Sure. Thanks for lunch, Ellen," Mr. Winchester said. Mr. Singer chimed in with a thank you as well and then they left through the back door.

Ash came into the kitchen. "Did I hear someone say lunch? And what is that delectable smell?" he sniffed the air.

"Chili," Ellen told him, "but that's on the menu for tonight. There's leftovers for lunch."

Ash ambled over to the table. "Oh, hey, Munchkin," he said to me, "There's a racing game in the bar, want to go mano a mano with me after I eat?"

I looked at Ellen. "I'm not allowed in the bar," I told him, "What's mano a mano?"

"Head to head. You- against- me," Ash said dramatically.

Ellen glanced over. "You can go in when we're closed, just not when we're open for business. Y'all can go play that game. Ash, you remember how to switch it so you don't have to pay?"

"I'll figure it out," Ash wiggled his eyebrows, "You know I can figure it out."

"Well, don't forget to switch it back when you're done."

"Yes ma'am," he said, as he made a ham sandwich for himself.

Ash and I played the old- time video game together in the bar while Ellen and her husband supervised the unloading of alcohol. It took a long time, there were crates and crates of bottles that kept coming in. Ash was funny, he made silly comments that made me laugh, although sometimes I had no idea what he was talking about, and I just laughed anyway.

"All right, Ash, finish up, we need you," Mr. Harvelle called over to him, "Help us get this stuff into the walk-in."

Ash looked at me. "All right, kid, I'm gonna let you take over my ride. Go out in a blaze of glory for me, would ya?" He turned and saluted me, and then walked towards Mr. Harvelle.

The first couple of times Ash had lost the game he had crashed his car and said he was "going out in a blaze of glory". He wasn't very good at the game, and he said to me, "I ain't so good at driving in real life either, but don't you tell no one."

I finished his turn and then my turn. As I walked back around the bar, Ellen told me to go sit and rest for a while, so I went back to the family room and watched some t.v.

We ate dinner in the kitchen that night; it had taken them a long time to get all of the supplies put away and the bar was already open for business when we sat down to eat. Well, Jo and Ash and me were the only ones sitting at the table in the kitchen. The men stood around, holding their bowls of chili in their hands. Sam and Dean weren't there, they were off doing something.

Mr. Winchester's phone rang just as Ellen came to the door of the kitchen. "Ash, Jo, I need your help. There was just a full pitcher of beer spilled all over the floor by the pool tables, and we just had a big group of good ol' boys come in lookin' to celebrate something and they all want to order some food. You're gonna have to waitress tonight, Jo, and Ash, you're gonna have to do clean up duty and bus tables."

Jo stood up and carried her bowl over to the sink. "Don't worry, Ash, I'll share my tips with you," she winked at him and left the room, grabbing an apron off of the hooks next to the door.

Ash took his bowl to the sink as well and hurried after Jo. "Ellen, where'd the mop bucket get off to?" he hollered as he walked into the bar.

"Let me go tell Ellen that we're leaving," Mr. Harvelle said, and he went into the bar. Mr. Winchester had hung up from his phone call and started to talk to the other men.

"You know where this particular cave is?" Mr. Winchester asked Mr. Singer.

"Not really, but I can figure it out," Mr. Singer said, "I'll follow you or Bill."

"It might not be an active nest, Dean said it looked like nothing had been there in a while. But there might be an active nest nearby, they tend to not stray too far from their first lair," Mr. Winchester said, "All right, I'll meet you out front and we'll leave in a couple of minutes." He went into the bar.

Dean had found a cave that might be the nest of the creature. If my Dad was there, I had to go and find him. I had to help them find my Dad. I wasn't that good at tracking, but I could try to help in other ways. Mr. Singer put his bowl in the sink and left towards the bathroom. I finished eating and put my bowl in the sink, then I went out the back door and around the side of the building where the men's vehicles were parked. There was a huge black truck, a smaller two-tone truck, and a big SUV. The black truck had a tarp in the back, covering over some stuff. The doors were locked, so I scrambled over the side of the bed and climbed into the back. As I was trying to get over, I felt a pain in my chest, and I winced. I lifted the corner of the tarp and crawled underneath of it, curling up against the large metal boxes that were covered by the tarp. I prayed that no -one would notice me. In a few minutes, I heard footsteps walking over to the vehicles and voices.

"I'll go first, and you can follow me," Mr. Winchester said. I felt the truck move as someone opened the door and got into it, and then the engine rumbled to life. Then the truck was moving, and all I could hear was the wind rushing past.