We were staying at a place called The Lynnwood Inn for the night. We'd gotten the usual room, two double beds, the boys took one each and I curled up with Sam for the night. I usually stayed with Dean, unless someone else was hurting. I'd been sleeping with Dean since Dad had first let me stay, back then Sammy was usually in the bed with us, except when Dad was out hunting, then sometimes Sam took his bed.

I stayed with Dean for a couple of reasons, firstly, that boy carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, missing his mum, missing his dad, who'd changed so much since Mary had died, and being the one left to look after Sam. He managed so well, and hid how much it hurt him, but the poor kid was exhausted every night, the least I could do was to keep the nightmares at bay, taking his pain away while we slept. Feeding like that, relieving people's pain, was so second nature to me that I literally could do it in my sleep, so long as I was only sleeping lightly.

And frankly, after what my father had put me through, I always slept lightly. Fear will do that to you.

The second reason that I slept in Dean's bed, was for my own comfort. Dean had been my very first friend. When Dad had killed my father and saved me, bringing me home and giving me a new family, I had been timid and afraid. Dean had taken me under his wing; he was my big brother, despite the fact that I was so much older than him.

And he helped keep the nightmares away. Being cold, or alone, or in the dark. Any of these things could bring the memories flooding back, bring his face looming at me out of the dark, bring his hands, harsh and unkind, grabbing at me in the dark. Cuddling up to a brother, warm and solid and safe, makes a big difference. I wake up and know right away that I'm okay. The smell of gunpowder, motor oil and leather is home and safety to me, it always will be.

When morning came Dean was the first one out of bed, as usual, unless he's hungover, or I'd not been able to sleep the night before, then on the odd occasion I'd be up first. When we were kids it was usually Dad who was up first. But today it was Dean, moving quietly around the room, Sammy slept on, and I laid awake, watching Dean, and cuddling further into Sam's shoulder. I was warm and comfortable, but daylight was coming in through the crack in the curtains and I shut my eyes just in time as Dean, evil grin in place, ripped the curtains open, "Rise and shine! It's a beautiful day!"

Sammy groaned, turning away from the light, and I buried my face in Sam's shoulder as Dean left the room, leaving the curtains open, because he's just mean like that.

Sam and I dragged ourselves from our nice warm bed, blinking bleary eyes and shut the curtains again. We took turns in the bathroom, dressing and getting ready for the day, before joining Dean in the dining room for breakfast.

He'd already ordered for us and the food arrived just after we sat down, a fry up for Dean, pancakes for me, and porridge for Sam. Sam grunted and reached for his coffee, the kid can't function without the requisite level of caffeine in his blood. I thanked Dean with a smile and dug in, the pancakes were pretty good, a little too much syrup perhaps.

Once we'd eaten Dean grabbed a bunch of newspapers from the seat next to him, handing some to me, he held the rest out to Sam, who ignored him and left the table without a word. Dean and I just looked at each other; it'd take another couple of coffees before he was a functioning human being again. Dean moved his plate to one side and we started going through the papers, looking for mysterious deaths and disappearances, conferring occasionally in low tones.

"Can I get you anything else?" The scantily dressed waitress was leaning over the table towards Dean, giving us both quite the eyeful and allowing me to read the name 'Wendy' on her nametag. I just smiled slightly, returning to the papers in front of me while Dean gave her a 'hello there' smile.

"Just the check, please." Sam told her as he re-joined us.

"Okay." She straightened up, still smiling at Dean and left with the empty plates.

Dean hung his head before looking up at Sam, "You know," he turned in his chair to face our younger brother and I pulled his newspaper, a local paper from Wisconsin, towards me. "Sam, we are allowed to have fun, once in a while." He pointed after Wendy, "That's fun."

Sam made no response and Dean pulled the paper from my hands, dropping it to the table in front of Sam. "Here, take a look at this. I think I got one. Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin, last week Sophie Carlton, 18, walks into the lake, doesn't walk out. Authorities dragged the water, nothing. Sophie Carlton is the third Lake Manitoc drowning this year; none of the other bodies were found either. They had a funeral two days ago."

"A funeral?"

"Yeah, it's weird; they buried an empty coffin, for closure, or whatever."

"Closure? What closure? People just don't disappear, Dean, other people just stop looking for them."

Dean paused, and then turned in his seat to face Sam. "Something you want to say?"

"The trail for dad, it's getting colder every day."

"Exactly. So what are we supposed to do?"

"I don't know! Something! Anything!"

"You know what? I'm sick of this attitude. You don't think we want to find Dad as much as you do?"

"Yeah, I know you do, it's ju-"

"We were the ones who were with him every single day for the past two years, while you were off to college, going to pep rallies. We will find Dad, but until then we're gonna kill everything bad between here and there. Okay?"

Sam sighed and then Wendy walked past, distracting Dean. Just like that the argument was over, forgotten.

"Okay, Lake Manitoc. Hey?"

"Huh?" Dean dragged his eyes away from the waitress' very short shorts.

"How far?"

We hit the road after paying the bill. Dean had flirted shamelessly with Wendy until I'd interrupted, telling the girl that we were only passing through and we were leaving now, so she was wasting her time, then I pulled Dean away, protesting all the way to the car.

Once we were under way, music blaring and windows rolled down, I leant forwards to speak to Dean.

"Hey, I've been thinking about what you guys said about Dad." Sam turned the music down a bit and turned to face me where I was practically hanging over the back of the seat. "Blackwater Ridge was a false lead to throw us off his trail, and there was nothing else that we could find back in California. If Dad doesn't want to be found, then finding him is going to be damn near impossible. Maybe you guys should take this case, drop me at Bobby's place, I can keep on the hunt for Dad."

"Thought you just said finding him would be impossible?" Dean gave me a cheeky grin.

"I said damn near." I returned the grin and bumped his shoulder.

"What are you thinking? You have any ideas on where he is?" Sammy was frowning slightly, focused on me.

I shook my head, "He doesn't want us to find him, we won't find him, but it's possible that someone else knows where he is, or has seen him since we last heard from him. Bobby knows almost every hunter there is, we want to put out a hunters APB on Dad, Bobby's our guy."

Going via Sioux Falls would add a few hours to the journey, but the boys could stop for the night at Bobby's place; he would be pleased to see us, especially if I cooked.

We stopped at a store in Sioux Falls on our way and I took Sam into the store with me, he's always been the fussy eater, while Dean took a quick nap in the car. We laughed and joked as we walked up and down the aisles, picking up vegetables, mincemeat, pasta and other fresh ingredients I doubted Bobby kept in stock. He ate like Dad and Dean did when I wasn't looking after them; pizzas, burgers and tinned soup. We picked up some more beer, plenty for three, just to make sure of a warm welcome and headed back out to the car to wake Dean and drive the last few miles.

Bobby came out to meet the car as we pulled up. There was a smile on his gruff face as I ran out of the car to give him a hug and a kiss on his whiskered cheek.

"Ali, you shoulda told me you were comin'."

"Where's the fun in that?" I turned and headed back to the car to pick up my duffel bag and the groceries. Dean and Sam walking with me the second time I approached Bobby.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in. Ain't seen you in years, boy!"

Sam ducked his head, grinning in a slightly abashed way as he came forward to offer Bobby a hug.

"Well, come on in, don't know where I'm gonna put you all." Bobby grumbled as we entered the house.

We'd stayed with Bobby fairly often when we were kids, if Dad knew he'd be busy with a hunt, or moving around a lot he'd usually leave us with the old hunter. It was always great, Bobby was like the fathers you read about in books, and see on TV, the ones who look out for their kids, make sure they have fun, but also don't shield them from the world. Dad sure as hell didn't shield us from the world, but he didn't really take into account the fact that we were children either, with him it was all work and no play. Bobby made sure we were given time to just be kids, staying with him was like a holiday and we loved him dearly, the old man was family, just as surely as I was.

His grumbling about where he was going to put us was nonsense, of course, his house was a two bedroom, his and the guest, which had only twin beds, but we'd always shared quite happily. Although, the boys had both grown since we'd last had to sleep in single beds, I might end up on the couch for tonight.

The downstairs had two main rooms, the kitchen and the living room, connected by a wide archway. The house was dingy, there were disorganised piles of books everywhere; some stacked almost as tall as me. As chaotic as the filing system seemed, Bobby could find whichever book he wanted in seconds. The desk in front of the fireplace in the living room was littered with notes, only some of which were in English, a half-empty bottle of whiskey sat next to a glass and a lamp provided light to work by.

The kitchen was a little grotty, the kitchen table was pulled off to the side, acting as a desk next to the array of telephones, each labelled with a different official body and an alias, so that Bobby could pretend to be the senior of whoever a hunter was impersonating and confirm their (false) identity to the local authorities. The kitchen counters were hidden beneath dirty dishes and the stove was covered in the little orange splashes from heating soup.

I put the groceries in the fridge and got to work washing up, Bobby blushing and mumbling that it wasn't necessary, he could do it. I told him to consider it our apology for not phoning to let him know we were coming and sent him through to the living room with some beers to catch up with the boys.

Half an hour later the kitchen was spotless and I was happily chopping vegetables and humming to myself, listening to the murmur of voices from the other room. I loved moments like this, the quiet, domestic moments. My family, or at least most of them, were all gathered in one place, I was busily proving my worth by providing food, and nothing was actively trying to kill us.

I do sometimes feel that I don't offer much, that I'm a burden on my family. I felt that way much more in the beginning, before bonds of love formed and strengthened to solidify my place here. Even so, every so often I look at the boys, who are fast and strong, with quick reflexes, who are such good hunters, and I don't seem to measure up. I'm the weakest person in a fight, a liability, more likely to get someone hurt, or worse, trying to protect me than be able to contribute to a fight. I'm more of a supporting role; I study the lore, I help when they get hurt, and I feed them.

I just wish I could do more.

An hour later and I was calling the guys through to fetch plates of lasagne and sliding a cherry pie into the oven. It'd be ready more or less as we were done eating. Sammy and I helped ourselves to salad and I dropped small portions of salad on Dean and Bobby's plates too. They grumbled a little but a raised eyebrow was sufficient to quiet them. It was really only a little salad; I don't know what their problem with it was!

After an uncomfortable and sleepless night on the sofa I was up early, making pancakes for breakfast. Syrup and bacon for Bobby and Dean, fresh fruit for Sam, and jam for me; I have something of a sweet tooth. After breakfast, the boys hit the road and Bobby and I got down to business.

"I don't know where John is. I haven't heard from him in months." Bobby had never been one to beat about the bush.

"Can you let people know we're looking?"

He nodded, scratching at his beard, "If John don't wanna be found-"

"I know, Bobby, but we have to try."

He nodded his head and handed me his hunter's journal. "There are contacts in the back. Phone's in the hall."

I smiled and gave him a quick hug, making him blush slightly as he always did when I hugged him, and took the journal with me to the hall.

Two and a half hours of racking us Bobby's phone bill later, I had left what felt like a hundred messages on hunters' phones, only a few of them having answered their phones. Of the people I'd spoken to, most hadn't heard from Dad in at least a month, a couple had never met him. They'd all agreed to call and let Bobby know if they came across him in their travels.

I sighed and rolled my shoulders, going to the kitchen to reheat the leftover lasagne for lunch.

Caleb, a semi-retired hunter who often supplied Dad with weapons and ammunition, had last spoken to Dad a month ago, he was in California hunting the Woman in White at the time, but he'd wanted a resupply of bullets and shells of all calibers, and had collected it from Caleb's home in Nebraska. Caleb didn't know where he might have gone after that.

Lincoln, Nebraska was clear across the continent from California. The message Dad had left on Dean's phone gave us a time and date when we knew that Dad was in California, but the date Caleb said that he'd been in Nebraska… meant that Dad had made a hell of a good time on the drive. It didn't tell me where he might be now though.

I rubbed my hands over my face and served up the lasagne and the last of the salad, taking it through to the living room, where Bobby was pouring through the lore books.

"Any luck?" He grunted as he accepted the plate and dug in, ignoring the salad on the side.

"Not really, I now know that he went straight from California to visit Caleb, but didn't stay. I guess we just wait now."

We ate the rest of the meal in silence, and then I took the plates and washed up, before joining Bobby in the living room.

"What are we searching for and for whom?" I peered over Bobby's shoulder at the book on his desk, which might have been in Japanese, judging by the style, not a language I'm familiar with.

"Tony's got a weird one." Bobby sat back, reaching for his beer, "Bodies are drained of blood, but no bite marks, instead there's a symbol cut into the chest, but the cuts ain't deep enough to explain the blood loss. We're thinking the symbol is some kind of ritual, but it ain't one I've ever heard of before."

"But you're looking into Gaki?" Gaki are a type of Japanese vampiric ghost, created when a greedy person dies and is forced to wander the earth with an unquenchable thirst. Most thirst for blood, though sometimes it's something less harmful, like tea or sweat.

"'bout all I know of that don't drain by biting."

"And what have you found so far?" The ancient Japanese was unintelligible to me.

"Bubkis." He finished his beer and went to fetch another from the fridge.

I started browsing a stack of books next to the fire place, "Hey, Bobby, don't you have an old grimoire around here somewhere? Written in encrypted Latin?"

Bobby fished an old leather bound book from the middle of a pile near the doorway. "What you wantin' this for?" he asked gruffly as he handed it to me, "You know better than to playing around with this kind of stuff."

"I know, Bobby!" I answered brightly taking the book and grabbing a notebook and pen from the desk before curling up on the sofa with the light from the window behind me. In truth I'd been playing around with magic for years now, and I know enough to know how to do it safely. The magic has to come from within, or be borrowed, and there's usually rather a high price for borrowing. I'm not brilliant at magic, but I can do a few simple spells, healing spells mostly.

On this occasion though, I wasn't looking to perform a spell, none of the spells in this book are the kind of stuff you want to get mixed up in. The book being encrypted was rather challenging to read, but I liked a challenge and I'd read a fair bit of the grimoire; there was something about two thirds of the way through that talked about blood sacrifice rituals.

Here we go…

Te srimitiam miboruc iakg eossp ilacaip; te ni oacrificis aotandn exisse mymbolus ipura ni macificius eectorp.

Et primitias ciborum Gaki posse placari; et in sacrificio notanda exisse symbolum Apuri in sacrificium pectore.

And by offerings of food the Gaki can be appeased; and in the sacrifice may be marked the symbol of Apuri upon the chest of the sacrifice.

"Yahtzee!" I dropped the notebook with the translation onto Bobby's desk. "So, someone's got themselves a pet Gaki and they're feeding it. Gross."

"Great. How do ya kill it? This Japanese tripe is doing my head in."

The book hadn't had anything on destroying a Gaki, only controlling it, but I think I remember when I read about them, they're ghosts, but can't be killed by the usual methods, burning the bones and such, because it's their greed which binds them to earth, rather than their mortal remains.

There was an encyclopaedia of ghosts and spirits at the top of a pile of books in the corner; I leafed through it until I found the entry on Gaki. "You have to wait until it takes physical form, it's best to attack whilst it's feeding, it'll be too distracted to defend itself. Doesn't say anything about any special weapons, but it's a ghost, so I'd say beheading with iron is probably a good start."

I closed the book and returned it to its stack while Bobby went to phone Tony and let him know what we'd found.

The next morning I got a phone call from the boys, they'd made it to Lake Manitoc, spoken to the Carlton family and the local sheriff and settled into a motel. They were confident they were dealing with some sort of water creature and Dean had phoned to ask what I knew about such things while Sam looked into the victims on his laptop.

I'd been looking at what can cause it's victims to drown and then hide the bodies since solving Tony's query the previous afternoon. There wasn't much that left no evidence, lake monsters, spirits and ghosts of drowned people were about all that came to mind. Sam didn't like the lake monster theory; the lack of sightings was certainly unusual for the lake monsters that made it into the local lore, though it was always possible that many more existed 'under the radar'.

Then Dean got a lead, a witness to one of the drownings. A kid had been out in the lake with his dad when his father had drowned, the boys had met the child, Lucas, at the police station, and he'd seemed timid and hadn't spoken. They asked me to keep looking and went to go and talk to Lucas.

The problem with lake creatures is that most of the spirits haunt the edges of the lake, not the depths. Of those that did, not much was known, too tricky to follow them to their watery lairs to learn more about them would be my guess.

The Chinese tell of a type of ghost called a Shui Gui, a textbook case of misery loves company the shui gui is the victim of a wrongful drowning, it won't rest until it drowns some other poor soul, the new victim in turn becomes the new shui gui.

The German donaufürst is a water spirit that can cause eddies and whirlpools which it uses to drown its victims.

Draci were a type of demon associated with water which kidnapped women to care for their demon offspring, but not all of the victims were female, so a draci was probably out.

English folklore tells of Jenny Greenteeth, a variation of grindylow, who lures people into the water and drowns them, but grindylow usually inhabit marsh and bogs, not lakes.

The next morning I got another call from Sam. There'd been another death, this time Will Carlton had drowned in the sink. The connection was the water from the lake, but it did rule out any kind of water monster, this was more some sort of spirit. More than that, it seemed to be targeting Bill Carlton, killing his children. I quickly briefed Sam on what I'd learned about donaufürst, shui gui and a couple of other water spirits before they left to talk to Bill Carlton, but none of those would be as… vengeful as this seemed to be.

Perhaps it was the ghost of a drowning victim, looking to get revenge on the person who had drowned it. I fetched my laptop from my room and started looking for deaths and disappearances in the area 35 years ago, that's when the drownings had started.

There were quite a few, of course; my search terms were too broad to be able to narrow it down to any one possible ghost. I sighed, putting my laptop aside and went to go and make some sandwiched from the leftover roast ham from the night before.

That evening I got a call from Sam, saying that it had been the ghost of a little boy named Peter Sweeney who had been drowned by Billy Carlton, Bill had gone out on the lake before the boys could stop him and his boat had been attacked, throwing him into the water. He hadn't come up, but the ghost was satisfied, the job was finished and they were on their way back.

The next morning I got another call saying that Bill Carlton hadn't been the only one responsible for Peter's death, and that after the ghost had attempted to take Lucas, his grandfather, the sheriff, had gone out into the water, been pulled under and drowned. The boy had been returned once the Sheriff was taken. The mother was shaken by the loss of her father, but just grateful to have her son back.

The kid was finally recovering from his PTSD and the ghost was finally laid to rest. The boys would be back late that night, and I'd better have a decent meal waiting for them, especially since I'd no luck finding the trail for Dad.

Well, all's well that ends well, sort of. At least it was over. I took Bobby to the store, we were running low on beer and no fake ID, no matter how good would persuade anyone to sell me alcohol, and then got to work making Dean's favourite Chilli Con Carne, with bacon bits and topped with plenty of cheese.