21. Ash

August 16th 1989

"Daddy." I watched him enter my room, my eyes wide and small hands gripping the bedsheets blanketed over top of me. "I'm scared." he laughd as i burried my face in the depths of my covers, and I felt him put a hand on my shoulder.

"Ash, don't be worried." he paused, and my bed groaned as he lowered himself onto it, sitting just beside my trembling body. "Have I ever told you about your guardian angel?"

I was out from the blankets at once, shaking my head.

"Well," he balanced one arm on my mattress and leaned towards me, grinning. "your guardian angle is a protector who watches over you, keeping you safe from harm. He takes care of you. Nothing can hurt you with him watching over."

"Nothing?" I repeated, my forehead puckering as my young brain contemplated his tale.

"Nothing."

After a moment's pondering, I shook my head and jumped up, bracing one hand on the wall beside my bed and swinging the other about, as if i were holding a sword. "Daddy, that's alright. I don't need to be rescued, see?" I jabbed the sword in the air and grunted, stabbing an invisible intruder.

He chuckled, gently lowering me back underneath my sheets. "I see. You can take care of yourself."

I smiled contently, and felt my eyes growing increasingly heavy as he tucked me in. Before kissing me on the crown on my hair, he pulled back, and looked at me in the eyes. "You may not need to be rescued, but you never should feel alone, either. Good-night, Ashley."

"Night daddy." I watched him start for my door, and quickly added, "Don't let the monsters bite!"

He turned and winked."You too, Ashley."

It was a gorgeous autumn's day (warm, stiff breeze coming in from the West, birds chirping, all that jazz) when I decided it was time to take a break. I knew we were all tired from the freaky, apocalypse demon crap, and so it would be nice to hunt some normal spirits for once. Not surprisingly, no one had any complaints.

Our first "normal" case involved going to some famously haunted hotel, but Dean and Sam nad neglected telling us that it wasn't just any hotel -it was a five star hotel. "Jeez." I peered out the window of the van as we pulled up to it, laughing quietly. "I feel like a ghostbuster." When I began humming the theme song, Lily picked up a CD from the floor over the van and popped it in the player. AC/DC drowned me out.

"I thought you didn't like hard rock." I muttered sourly, crossing my arms over my chest.

Lily tossed me a shrug. "I'm getting used to it. It's good, on occasion."

Parking was a nightmare. I wouldn't have exactly expected a place with such a reputation for being famous would have so many cars, but I've been proven wrong before. Eventually, we followed Sam and Dean around the side of the building to the Handicap parking, and got out.

"Isn't this illegal?" Lily asked nervously, as we met up with Sam and Dean at the doors.

Dean just laughed. "Feels good, huh?"

"No, it feels illegal."

I moved past them to touch a hand on the dark red brick of the hotel, staring up at it's tall, old-fashioned structure. "So this is the famous 'Haunted Hotel', huh?" a cluster of old people with cameras around their necks and eager grins pushed past me, and I shot them dirty looks. "They seem to think they're exempt from seeing my right-hook..." I trailed off as one woman looked back at me, and then I took a threatening step forward, watching her scurry away.

"You know," Mira was coming up in the rear, sheilding her eyes from the harsh sun and frowning. "With the recent addition of malicious activity, I'd expect it to be a bit more...deserted."

Dean shrugged. "Of course it's packed. Dangerous ghosts are a huge tourist attraction."

I felt my brow furrowing anxiously, my fingers drumming against my jean pant leg. Having more people around would make this harder. Fantastic. They liked ghosts now, when they were just snapping pictures of air and getting teeshirts, but wait until there's real danger. All of those tourists in there are going to run for the hills. Or, they might not. Maybe seeing some action is what they came for. So they'll stick around and pay the consequences. Great.

Inside, a lanky teenage boy was slouched over on a stool behind the desk, snapping bubble gum and texting. I was almost instantly annoyed. Today's youth was supposed to change the world? The future looks bright...

"Excuse me," Sam said, coming up in front of the teen to motion at the rest of us. "We're interviewers from the local paranormal paper, and we were wondering if we could interview someone who's been witness to the recent activity here?"

The boy texting didn't answer until his fingers ceased flying across his phone, adn then slowly, he dragged his eyes up to Sam's. "What?"

"Did..." Sam frowned and gave Mira a confused look before turning back to the kid. "Did you not hear me?"

"Something about ghosts, I'm guessing." he was already back on his phone, and wouldn't look up as he spoke. "If you want to talk to the chick who saw the guy die, go on up and bug her."

Sam raised his eye brows, waiting for more. "Well, could I have her room number?"

This time, the teen actually sighed dramatically as if we were wasting his time, and slammed his phone down, turning on his stool to start typing on a computer to the left of him. After a moment, he printed out a piece of paper, and handed it off to Sam.

"That all?"

"Uh, yeah. Thanks."

"Whatever."

As we started walking down the hall, Sam looked down at the paper in his hands, trying to read the tiny font. Dean peered over his shoulder. "Room 618, floor 6. Let's go see what's going on here." He nudged his brother and veered left to a small alcove in the hall containing two elevators.

I stopped dead in my tracks, feeling like my feet had grown roots into the floor.

Mira and Lily both looked back at me, and exchanged confused looks.

"What, are you just going to stand there?" Dean rolled his eyes impatiently. "Come on, Ash."

I hesitated, my eyes sweeping the length of the hall worriedly. "Uh, are there stairs?" When I found nothing, my heart sank deep into my chest, and I swallowed tightly, feeling a cold sweat beginning in the small of my back. Everyone was looking at me skepticially, as if I were playing some sort of joke. Sam actually laughed.

"So, what? Are elevator's your kryptonite?"

I looked away, glaring darkly at the floor of the hall. "Every hotel has stairs..."

A passing bellhop stpped, having heard me. "No miss, I'm sorry but there aren't. There was a fire in the staircase and they're currently unsafe for use. The elevators, though, are in perfect working order." He gave me a bright smile, and continued on his way, unaware of my heated glower on his back.

"So," Lily said slowly, weighing my gaze with narrowed eyes. "We take the elevator...okay?"

"Okay."

I tok a deep breath as Dean, Sam, Mira and Lily filed into the elevator when the doors opened, all crammed in the small space. Oh God. I stepped inside, and looked around anxiously as the doors began closing, and the lights brightened. I felt sick to my stomach.

As Dean reached to press the sixth floor button, I pushed him roughly to the side, and pounded my fist against the button to open the doors again. 'Sorry! Tell me what you find!" Without looking at any of them, I rushed out.

I felt so much better once I was away from the elevator, and decided not to bother waiting for them in the lobby with the idiot kid behind the desk. So I continued past him, ignoring the confused look I recieved due to my short visit, and headed outside to the van.

If Dean made fun of me, I decided as I lay down in the back of the van, I'd just punch him or something. As I lay there, I slid my aviators from the top of my head down over my eyes, blocking out the sun, and the world around me began to fade.

March 24th 1993

Mrs. Ronne's office smelled like pencil sharpenings and leather, which I suppose was from the giant leather chair she had parked behind her desk. Was it customary that principals of elementary schools got big chairs to make themselves feel powerful or was that just my idiot principal?

"Ashley Elsberry!"

I turned quickly, having spent a good twenty minutes admiring the white walls, large oak desk and the pictures of family on her office walls. The door opened, and Mrs. Ronne came flying in like a madwoman, letting her door swing shut behind her again and click as it locked into place. I swallowed, but straightened up and pushed back my shoulders, giving her an even look as she walked around to the other side of her desk, sitting down in the dumb chair. I took this as my invitation to sit as well and did so, just as she began lecturing.

"This is the thrid time this month, young lady."

"Is it?" I frowned to myself, and began counting on my fingers. I thought it was more then that.

"Yes!" Mrs. Ronne didn't look as confused as I did. She looked furious. "And it keeps getting worse and worse! All Jen did to you was ask you about your shirt, and try to include you in their game. You decided to repay their kindness by grabbing her hair and throwing her into the fence?"

I stopped counting to glare at her angirly. "Include me? They came over to make fun of me."

Mrs. Ronne shook her head, and I knew she was just like the others. You know the kind. They're the people who think you're weird, or in my case, also loud, and stubborn, and emotional. She sits alone, they say, talking to things that aren't there and running around imagining a world that's not real. If you get too close, she'll bite. It's not like I care what people think. It's when they start physically bugging me that I retaliate.

Mrs. Ronne narrowed her eyes at my response, and then reached for her phone, calling my parents.

After she hung up, she crossed her arms over top her desk, challenging my glare. "You're in big trouble, missy. Five day suspension, trouble."

"Five days?" I sat up angirly. "I thought it was three!"

"Jen broke her nose."

I almost felt the need to smile. "Oh." I hit her that hard into the fence?

Mom and dad came into the office a few minutes later, each looking equally ashamed and angry. "Ash." Dad took my wrist roughly, and pulled me to my feet. "I am severely disappointed in you." I stared up at him as I was practically dragged out of Mrs. Ronne's office, and out of the school.

"But dad!" I protested when we got to the parking lot. "You're the one who said I should fight back!"

I heard my mom let out a disapproving, "Richard!"

Dad dug for his car keys of of his pocket, shooting me a dark look. "I told you to fight back if you were physically harmed, not if someone threw some words at you." He retrieved his keys, and unlocked the car, parked right beside the doors of the school. "You seem to think violence is the answer, and you keep getting into fights at school. This is not what I want for you, Ash."

I looked at my shoes in emberassment as i clambered into the back of the car, hearing my dad slam my door behind me. Once he and my mom were in as well, as she turned around in her seat nad gave me a pitiful look. "Why can't you be normal like Janice? She tries so hard, and has so many friends."

I gritted my teeth together, stopping the retort that climbed up my throat.

"Honstly!" She continued. "I'm thinking of sending you to reform school. This is not the way a little lady should be acting."

"I don't want to be a little lady!"

Mom sent me a look, the look, and I began sulking, glowering out my window as the city passed by.

"Ashley...you can't do this." my dad said suddenly.

I felt tears welling in my eyes. This wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair.

I woke up when I heard people talking outside the van about an hour later. Slowly, I rose, my back stiff and pinching painfully as I lifted my arms high above my head. "Did you take long enough?" I muttered, opening up the side door and swinging my legs out.

"Well," Mira looked at me, and handed off the notebook they'd written all they had learned about. "We needed to find out everything that was going on."

I began skimming through the book, reading phrases about the murder of the wealthy hotel owner and the recent activity starting up on the expansion construction. As well, about how they kept his skeleton on display in the penthouse suite.

"Jesus." I muttered, raising my eye brows.

Beside me, Dean leaned against the van door. "So, what's your deal with elevators?"

"Small places make my hair friz up."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Really? That's your excuse? I was expecting something more creative. I'm disappointed."

Lily stepped between us when I snapped the notebook shut, ready to retort. "Anyway, we're meeting back here tonight. It seems the spirit gets restless every night at midnight."

"Fine." I handed the book back to Mira.

There was an awkward silence, and I knew everyone was looking at me.

"Hey, are you going to be okay tonight?" Sam asked, giving me a worried stare. "'Cause you can sit this one out with you want to-"

He stopped short when I glared at him.

"Yeah," he grinned, looking away. "I figured."

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

That night, the alarm in our hotel room went off at ten-thirty. I roused from bed, my eye lids seeming to be sticking to my eyes. No way it was that time already. "Come on, Ash." Lily gave me a light pat on the back, to which I grunted tiredly in response. "Up and at 'em."

"Let me sleep."

"Hey, you had the option of staying. You lost your chance trying to look tough. Now get up."

Eventually, I managed to get out of bed, and dressed slowly as Lily and Mira rushed around the hotel room, packing up our things. Next door, I could hear Sam and Dean moving as well. We met outside in the parking lot, the flickering neon hotel sign being the only source of light.

"Ready?" Sam asked, as he closed the trunk of the Impala and looked between our faces.

Lily and Mira both nodded. I just yawned.

"Okay." he grinned. "Let's go."

I had my knife this time, tucked away in my belt loop with my cell phone too. As long as I had those things, I told myself quietly as we drove to the hotel, I'd be fine. I was ready to do this... Sort of. There was still the whole "elevator" aspect that I wasn't quite sure how to deal with just yet.

The hotel was even creepier at nighttime, when all the people were gone and the lights were out. It seemed bigger inside, too, without tourists crowding every inch of the place. I was fine walking down the hall until we reached that damn alcove with the elevators. I backed.

"Come on, Ash." Mira saw me do this, and put her hand on my back. "We need you up there."

They didn't really need me... There was four of them. One less wouldn't hurt, would it? I quickly weighed my options; either I went back out to the van and looked like the biggest wimp in the entire world, thus having to endure relentless comments by one Dean Winchester... Or, I swallowed my pride and got in the damn elevator.

"Fine." I muttered, moving past them to get inside, pushing my back up agaisnt the far end of the tiny space. "But no one move, or jump or...do anything to make this thing go down, got it?"

Dean smirked as he got in. "Whatever you say."

Once everyone was inside, the doors closed, and we went up.

Mira, who stood to the left of me, gave my hand a light brush. "Hey." she whispered, and I refused to look at her, keeping my eyes on the red numbers above the door, counting the floors. Was the pace getting slower or was that just me? "How are you doing?"

Absently, I shrugged. My jaw was clenched so tightly that I couldn't speak.

On the other side of me, Dean was staring, obviously enjoying the discomfort I was in. I wanted to say something to him, or at the very least, shoot him a dirty look. But I couldn't move. I was literally frozen where I was until a beep emitted from the control pannel on the wall, and then the doors opened.

I was the first one out, pushing my way through the doors.

The others followed, Dean picking up pace to move ahead of me. Did he really always have to be the freaking leader? I ignored him, and stared looking around the space, eyes narrowed in the dark.

"There they are." Dean said suddenly. "Creepy son-of-a-bitch."

I looked to where he was pointing, and saw a glass case just to the left of the elevator doors. Huh. That was easy... I felt something inside of my stomach flip-flop uneasily. That was too easy. "I don't know about this." I said, walking towards the case with slow movements, Sam, Lily and Mira following behind. "We should-"

"Hey," Sam said, ignoring me to peer at the glass. "Maybe this will be an easy case after all."

Someone had to say it, I guess.

Once the words left his mouth, Lily inhaled sharply, and whispered loud enough for the five of us to hear, "There... Guys, he's over there." She shook the sleeve of my jacket until I turned my head in the direction she was looking, and saw him.

There, at the very end of the hallway, was the old owner. His eyes... they were lit with fire, like he had his own personal inferno occuring behind his pupils. And his face! It was so bloody, and contorted with anger. We barely had enough time to react before he took off into a sprint, sweeping past Lily and knocking her lighter out of her hand in the process.

"No!" Lily hurried to run after the skidding object, avoiding the owner as she did so.

Dean was quick to smash open the glass case with the iron crowbar he'd been carrying in his hands, and brought his arm up to his face to sheild his eyes from the sharp pieces that flew about. I did the same, feeling small bits landing in my hair, and in my clothes. When I lifted my arm away again, Sam was swinging his own iron bar at the spirit who'd been approaching him with impecable speed, causing the spirit to dissolve.

I backed up against Mira, and we rotated together slowly, our eyes scanning every corner of the hall for him.

When he appeared again, he was beside Lily, and snatched the recently retrieved lighter to toss it into one of the nearby floor vents. The clatter noise it made was long, and hallow, telling us that the vent was a deep one. It took a while until there was a muted "clink!" and the lighter hit the bottom. I was sure Lily would have been hit by the spirit while she was distracted, staring down the vent helplessly, if Mira hadn't pushed away from me and shot at it with rock salt.

Seeing this as her chance, Lily dropped onto her knees and pulled the vent from the floor, tossing it aside as she shoved her hand deep down inside. She grimmaced. "I can't quite reach it!"

"Here! Take mine!" Dean moved to grab his lighter from his jacket, but stopped, and looked down anxiously, fumbling around in his pockets. After a moment's search, he looked up again, eyes wide. "Damn it! I think it fell out in the car!"

The manager appeared beside him, sparks flying as he lunged towards Dean.

In a desperate move, he threw his car keys into the air before retrieving his crowbar from the floor, and taking a swing at the manager. I had the misfortune of catching them. My mind began to race. The stairs were out, so the only way of getting down to the van to grab the lighter was...

Oh God...the elevator.

I moaned loudly and ran back to it, my breath hitching as the doors closed, sealing me alone inside. If going up at 11:30 was nerve racking, it was nothing compared to now. All I could do to keep myself from screaming and running out was muttering dark curse words, and jabbing my thumb into the "down" buton. slowly, the elevator began it's descent...

When I reached the bottom, I pushed on the doors until they eventually opened, and then raced through the lobbey and out to the parkign lot. The Impala was parked right by the entrance, and when I got there, I fumbled with Dean's keys to unlock the doors. It seemed to take forever to get them open, since I dropped them twice and kept using the wrong ones, but I finally managed to get the driver's side open. It took even longer to find the lighter. I pushed myself onto the floor beneath the wheel, my hands gropping in the darkness. I felt the cool metal of Dean's lighter, and snatched it up, running back inside. By that time, I was breathing heavily, fearing I might be too late.

This time, when I got into the elevator, I wasn't so much scared as I was anxious, tapping my foot and drumming my trembling fingers against my pantleg, staring at the floor count above the doors. The elevator seemed to be moving slower than before, but I didn't think much of it, believing it to be my own, dumb mind. But then, just as the red numbers told me we'd hit the ninteenth floor, sparks flew from the lights abvoe my head, and they flickered before going out completely as the elevator came to a sickening lurch.

"Lily!" I cried, pounding my fists against the doors. "Mira!" no answer.

I looked around the tiny space and backed into the wall, my air seeming to be deplating. I tried claming myself, but it was like trying to stop my body from trembling- impossible. For a moment, I remained standing, eyes wide and chest heaving. But then, I grew angry, and rushed forward, trying desperately to pry the doors open. I needed out. I needed out now. They wouldn't budge though.

"Let me out! Please someone, get me out!"

My screams faded as my throat closed, the words catching. I couldn't think clearly. All I felt was massive panic like a knot slowly getting tighter and tigher around my waist, constricting my lungs. I started to slide down the wall, gasping for breath.

"Mira...Lily...Dean...Sam..." I trailed off, curling up into a ball in the corner. It was happening. I could see it in front of my house, playing like a sick, old moive.

There he was. The man, standing in front of me, seven year old me, in that old elevator. He carried a brief case, wore a dark suit and an even darker look, like it had been a bad day for him. I tried to smile as he came in, but he ignored me and pressed the button of the floor he needed. And then the lights flickered. The elevator stopped. The man, this stuck up man with his nose high in the air, began to panic.

Everyone has a weakness. His was elevators.

He was scared, much worse than I was. Even worse than me now. An hour passed, just the two of us stuck in an elevator. Then two hours. By the third, he reached into his brief case and brought out a plastic bag; an evidence bag. Inside, I could see something. It was a gun, and it was loaded.

By the fourth hour, the man was nothing more than decaying flesh in front of me.

Sitting alone in the elevator now, in that creepy hotel, I could see him again, dead against the wall with a hole in the middle of his forehad and the blood, pooling around me like a puddle I didn't dare try and touch. I could smell the burnt flesh, and feel the suffocation of the elevator, slowly starting to swallow me whole.

And then my cell phone rang.

"H-He...He..." I couldn't even speak, pressing it against the side of my face.

The person on the other line immediately sounded worried. "Ash? Ash are you okay?"

I tried to speak, to form a coherant sentance. Couldn't. Tried again. "E-elevator."

On the other end, Lily (at least, I think it was Lily) curesed, and then she spoke away from the phone to the others. I couldn't hear what she was saying, not that I was paying any attention anyway. and then, she spoke to me again.

"Just hold on, Ash. We took care of the spirit already. But you just hold on, okay? We'll send you help."

My hand went limp. Help? Who was there to help me? The hotel was deserted.

My breathing reached hyperventilation stage. I wasn't crying...no, I was beyong that. I was in a state of pure panic. The phone began to slide out of my hand, barely against my face anymore. On the other end, Lily grew even more anxious.

"I...Oh God, Dean she's hyperventilating! We've got to...would that work? Try?... Okay." She spoke to me again, having turned away to talk to him. "Ash, Can you hear me?

I didn't answer. She continued.

"You need to Castiel, okay? It's a long shot up he might be able to hear you. It's the only chance, so you might as well give it a try-"

I closed the phone numbly, cutting her off.

It took only a moment's consideration, weighing my pride against my need for an exit. And in the end, my need overpowered my pride. I didn't care hwo mcuh of a "damsal in distress" it made me look.

"Castiel?" I whispered, quietly at first, my voice cracking. And then louder, "Castiel!"

It was as if I'd skipped time. He was suddenly crouched in front of me, hands awkwardly on my upperarms as he shook me slightly.

"Ashley." He spoke sharply.

My eyes focused on his. They were blue...so blue. They seemed to bore into mine, and for the first time since stepping into the elevator, I felt peace. A wave of safety and serenity crashed over top of me, and as he placed a hand on my forehead, I closed my eyes. And then, I was out of there.

I stumbled when we landed outside of the hotel, tipping into Cas's chest like a child. At that moment, I didn't care how weak I looked, or how stupid. I was just relieved to be out of the damn elevator, and all of that fear was gone. Gone, gone...gone.

As I clung to him, trying to compose myself while sobbing and regaining a normal breathing pattern, Casitel stayed very still. I'm sure it was because he didn't know what to do, and I quickly straightened up, sniffling into the sleeve of my sweater.

"Thanks." I whispered.

He nodded wordlessly, which I appreciated, in someway.

I looked back at the hotel, thinking quietly. In the morning, I would be angry with him for saving me, I knew. But in that moment, my pride was the least on my mind.

November 12th 1997

"So, Ashley, how was your week?"

I lifted my head, and rolled my eyes to the man sitting calmly in front of me. His name was Timothy-something, but I really could have cared less what that "something" was. All I knew was that he was the man I was forced to spend an hour and a half a week with. And that was enough to make me hate his stupid, old man guts.

The therapist's office was bland, as one would imagine an office like it to be. There was the large mahogany desk that he never sat at, choosing instead to roll his dumb little wheely chair over to the long, cushioned couch-like-thing I was currently laying on. But I could never really sit still, especially not with an old man looking down on me like that. So after only a few minutes laying down, I sat up, and crossed my legs, bouncing on the balls on my feet anxiously.

"Fan-fucking-tastic, as pew usual." I replied, looking at Timothy angirly.

My long blonde hair was shoved into a baseball cap, and messily; every few minutes, I brought up my hand angirly and tucked stray hairs behind my ears, only to have them fall into my face again. As I did this for the millionth time, I glanced up at the clock that Timoty had set up behind his desk. It was the kind with roman numerals, of course. Because regular numbers wouldn't match the stick-up-our-professional-asses office decor they had going in this place.

One hour and twenty five minutes left. God kill me now.

"Ashley." Timothy gave me his usual, disapproving old man look that just made me want to leave so much more. "Sarcasm is not appreciate, and neither is your language. I'm trying t help you. Now please," he forced a tight lipped smile, which was really just a brief lift of the corner of his mouth. "how was your week?"

"I told you, doc. I like to be called "Ash". And if you must know...it was okay, I guess."

He made a quick note on the clipboard he felt compelled to keep balanced on his knee throughout our sessions, and then looked up at me again. "So how is school?"

"Oh, you mean hell?" I asked, turning my face away. "Hell is fine."

Every session was the same thing, and if he thought my answer would ever change, well, then he really wasn't that great of a therapist. And yet, each time I entered that god-damn office, he asked me the same questions. It was all such a tiring cycle, really.

I recieved another disapproving look before he moved on. "And how are you getting along with your parents, and your sister?"

There was no point lying.

"Well," I said, clapping my hands together and causing old Tim-Tim to jump slightly. "Mother's terribly, as usual. she keeps forcing me to be a lady, be her, be my sister... I can't believe her. But what else is new, right?" Timothy gave a dismissive shrug, which meant he wasn't agreeing with me, but was rather showing that he was aknowledging my rant's subjects. "And then there's father. It's worse with him, really. He's getting frusterated, but I can't blame him."

Timothy seemed to be waiting for more when I finished.

"That's it, I guess." I looked away too quickly, and began fidgeting with the brim of my cap.

"Well, what about your sister, Ashl...Ash?"

I sighed. "Janice is nice as always, I suppose. She's sticking up for me at school, trying to diffuse the conflicts..." I focused steadily on the blank part of Timothy's wall where he hadn't nailed up some sort of diploma, or award, or frame. "Nothing's changed with her, I guess."

Therapy was good for sorting out your feelings. I knew that, don't get me wrong; I appreciated the sessions...sort of. I just hated going so much. It was nice that Timothy didn't judge me. It was nice saying my problems out loud without someone snorting, scoffing, clearing their throat to hide a chuckle. So yeah, Doc was great, even if he did have a habit of never shutting up, and asking the obvious questions. Such as:

"Does this anger you?"

I tossed him a look. "No shit it does."

He motioned for me to continue wordlessly, readying his pen over his dumb clipboard as if he thought he was about to make some great big break through.

"Sorry, doc." I muttered. "I'm not in the mood to-"

"I understand." he made a quick note, before saying, "May I ask what that is around your neck?"

For a moment, I just stared at his face, and then I looked down, feeling my cheels coloring slightly. "Hmm? Oh. It's nothing." It would only upset my parents further when he told them, and I really didn't need that, not ontop of what was already going on at home.

"Ash." Timothy spoke seriously, lowering his glasses to give me that god-damn look again. "There are no secrets here."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine then."

Without breaking his gaze, I pulled out my new pedant with the pentacle and cross combination. I lifted it higher for him to see, and at first Timothy squitned at it, like he couldn't quite make out what it was. But when he did, his eyes widened noticeably before he could compose himself.

"Who, uh, gavve you that?"

"Some friends." I muttered nonchalantly, tucking it back inside the collar of my shirt.

"Who?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

So we didn't. But he made another freaking note. "Ash," Timothy murmured gently as he set his pen on his clipboard, and raised his eyes to mine. "Your parents tell me they'd found a book of yours. The one will all of the names? Care to explain?"

I said nothing, crossing my arms over my chest and looking down at the ground.

"I did some research," he continued, lifting up a paper on his clipboard to peer at one underneath, "and I found that the names were victims of unsolved...gruesome murders." Timothy sighed, letting the paper fall again before looking at me. "What is that about?"

On a whim, I decided to make his day interesting, as well as further frustrate my parents.

"They happen to be the names of victims killed by the supernatural." I answered calmly, pausing to take off my cap, shake out my hair, and then set it back on my head with a small smile. "You know, demons, spirits, Gods, vampires, etcetra. I keep it for motivation."

There was that look again. "Uh-huh."

And here it comes.

"Ashley...Ash," he corrected himself when I glowered, "You know as well as I do that those creatures are all just myths and stories. None of it is real, or out there looking to muder people." He gave a low, throaty laugh and shook his head. "That's preposterous!" But his laughter stopped suddenly, and he gave me a curious look. "Wait...motivation for what?"

A smirk spread across my face. Could the old man take it?

"Ash?"

"Well," I said, looking away. "it's motivation for killing these evil sons of bitches."

After a few minutes of standing alone with Castiel, I saw a blurry shape moving toward us. For a horrified moment, I thought it was the man in the elevator from my past, crawling towards me, coming to kill me... But it was Sam, Dean, Mira and Lily coming outside. I exhaled with relief, but it only lasted so long.

"Cas!" Dean called out, waving at him.

He noded at the approaching group. "Hello Dean. Miranda, Sam, Lillian." As he greeted them each one in turn, I noticed Sam staring at him with a look of awe, and almost resent. They all wore amazed expressions, actually. And it made me nervous.

"You...You saved Ash." Mira stated with wide eyes.

Castiel nodded calmly.

I grew aware of my puffy red eyes, and the dried tears that sparkled on my cheeks. There was also a funny, hallow feeling in my chest, something I didn't entirely understand. As I began wiping at my face angirly, Lily frowned.

"You really don't like elevators, do you?"

"No," I gave a shaky laugh, "I don't." I avoided Dean's gaze, because I knew he knew I was trying to put on a brave face, when all I wanted to do was go kill something... So instead, I cleared my throat, and looked to Mira. "You got the spirit then?"

"Yeah." She seemed to be over her momentary awe, and nodded. "We used an electrical outlet that was sparking to start a fire."

"Great. I could really go for a drink. Or nine."

Dean clapped a hand on my back, and I jumped. "I'm up for that!"

Shrugging away from him, I muttered for them to head to the cars, that I would be there in a moment. As soon as we were alone, I turned to Cas, and sighed.

"Hey." My hands dug into my pockets, trying to keep a hard composure, but as well, eye contact. Both were proving difficult. "Thanks."

"He's dead, Ashley. Rest easy, as he does." Castiel raised a hand to my forehead, brushing my bangs aside. And then, he was gone.

"Oh crap."

I pressed my face against the passenger window of our van, immediately recognizing the bar we were pulling into. While I had been sleeping, I'd some how managed up in the rural area I'd grown up in. I knew it well; the bar was owned and managed by a hunter named Carl Winston, and was a hot spot for other hunters. I didn't mind the bar. It'd be nice to see Carl again. But the last time I'd been even remotely near that place... Well, let's just say it wasn't a happy parting.

"What's wrong?" Mira asked from behind the wheel.

I sat up slowly as she parked the van in a spot beside the Impala. "Why are we here?"

Lily was already unbuckling her belt, and turned to wait for me to get out so she could as well. "Dean said this was the closest one for miles. We all want a drink so..." She shrugged and trailed off, letting me fill in the blanks. "Besides, what's wrong with it?"

"Nothing." I said quickly, opening my door. "I just know the owner, that's all."

I felt them both looking at me, but I ignored them for the time being, pausing in the parking lot to stretch my back muscles and squint up at the sky. Lily came up beside me, Mira on the other side, and they gave me expectant stares. I sighed and gave in.

"Carl's an old friend of mine."

Neither spoke.

"He's a hunter, so he'll cover for us if the police come-a-knocking."

It wasn't an excuse. That was the truth; he was a long time friend because he was a hunter. I could tell they were thinking it through, obviously since they were curious as to what my history was with this place. As long as they just knew I had an old friend here, I was in the clear.

"Let's go inside." I muttered, pushing past them to walk up to the bar doors.

It wasn't exactly in a remote location, so there was no suprise when it was practically empty inside. As I passed through the doors, I glanced at the sign stuck on the building above me, and noticed it was still missing neon letters. A smile spread across my face. Typical Carl.

Inside, it was darkly lit, and only a few people with shaded faces sat hunched on bar stools. I couldn't see clearly, and jumped slightly when Dean came up beside me, and tapped me on the shoulder. "Lily says you know the owner."

"Yeah." I said, squinting behind the bar to see if he was there. "He's an old friend."

Dean nodded, and gave me a little nudge. "Come with me then. Everyone in here looks like they want to kill me."

I gave an amused smile as he pulled me towards the bar, making sure I was a few steps ahead of him just incase one of the drunk men decided to take a swing at us. I stepped between two empty bar stools, and rested my arms on the counter, grinning at the man who was opening a new 24 pack.

"Hey there, Carl."

For a minute, he looked as if he didn't recognize me. But then, his eyes widened, and he grinned. "Holy shit. Is that who I think it is?"

Carl was an older man, probably around his late forties now. He was, and probably would be, one of the nicest people I'd ever met, with the purest of intentions. I'd never once heard him judge a soul, and it was him and his friends who taught me about the supernatural when I was younger, and came stumbling into his bar, desperate to be told. After I ran away, he gave me cash for help. For years, he supported me, and never pressured me with the guilt of my actions. You'd think it would have been weird for me, being a teenager hanging out with an older man. But he was more of a father than my real one ever was.

"What have you been up to?" He handed me a beer, and then tossed a curious look at Dean, who stood wordlessly at my side.

As I cracked open the drink, I shrugged. "Hunting, Carl. What else? Here, meet my friends."

"No shit! You actually met people, hunters you liked? And you're on a team now?" he gave a low whistle as the rest of my friends approached. "I'll be damned."

I introduced them one by one. "This is Lily and Mira, and that's Dean and Sam Winchester."

Carl nodded at Lily and Mira, but he looked more impressed to see me with Sam and Dean. "You're running with the Winchester boys, huh Ash?" He came around the bar to stand in front of them, shaking their hands. "John wasa great man, and Bobby's a good man too. You boys still in touch with him I hear? Well, remind him to stop in for a dirnk sometime, on me. Damn," he shook his head, giving a short laugh. "I haven't spoken to so many hunters in years."

"Hey C-Carl." one man sitting at the far end of the bar wobbily raised his arm. "Can I get 'nother drink from ya?"

With a disgusted sigh, Carl held up his finger at me, and then turned towards the clump of people who remained on their stools. "Out, now, all of ya. We're closed." When no one moved, he clapped his hands loudly, like he was getting rid of dogs. "Go on now, get!"

It took a few minutes for the drunk men to stumble out, all grumbling amongst each other, but once the bar was empty, Carl turned off the "open" neon light, and then returned to where we remained stranding. "Sorry about that. I don't get the same customers as I used to, you know."

I nodded understandingly, and then took a long pull of my beer before asking, "So, what have you been up to?"

He began handing out beers, and shrugged his shoulders. "Most of the same, I guess. Actually, I've been training new hunters more than actually hunting myself, now. The real question, though, is what the hell have you been doing?" Carl leaned against the corner as we each took a stool, giving me an amazed shake of his head. "I saw that bounty, damn."

"What can I say? Killing monsters is a passion."

Beside me, Dean laughed, and clapped me on the back. "This girl, huh?"

As if just remember he was there, Carl turned to where he sat, and grinned. "I've heard a lot about what you guys have been doing, you know, from hunters passing through town. Good work, boys. Both of you." He nodded at Sam, sitting at the far end of the bar with Mira. "Really."

Dean took a sip of his beer, and looked at me. "I like this guy."

It felt so good to be back with Carl, sort of like coming home after a long time being away. Despite the tension from being so close to...well, my past, I was oddly at ease, watching as my friends talked with each other, and with Carl. Even Lily, who usually wasn't the most comfortable in bars, since she didn't drink, was having a good time, sticking close to Dean as he discussed past hunts with Carl. It was all going so well, until...

"A-Ashley?"

I turned around, a scowl on my face at the sound of my full name. But the scowl soon fell into a hard line of disbelief when I found where the voice had come from, an approaching group of three just passing through the doors of the bar.

Mira gave them a curious once over. "Who are they?"

I couldn't speak. My eyes followed the group as they drew closer.

"Ashley, that...that is you, isn't it?" The voice was shaking, like they were afraid.

"Oh shit." Carl cussed, pushing away from the bar. "Hey, we're closed-"

"Ash?" Sam came up beside me, keeping his gaze set on them. "What's going on here?"

Without looking at any of them, I got off of my stool, and met the group half way, standing in front of them with my arms crossed, and head high. I spoke with an even tone, greeting each of them with a curt nod. "Mother, Father, Janice."