Sam and Dean had gone to interview the witness; some kid who'd seen his neighbour be taken by a monster, if the story in the local paper could be believed. The way the article was written suggested that it couldn't but we had decided to check it out anyway. Bobby still hadn't heard anything about Dad, but he'd managed to dedicate a bit more time to his day job, and I'd finally gotten my arm out of that sling, complete with full range of motion. Though raising my arm above my head still hurt, and trying to pull down with it was a real bitch.

I'd actually healed with scar tissue this time, which is unusual for a prangeni. We take much longer to heal than humans do, but that's because humans can quickly and easily make scar tissue, which covers over the hole and lowers the chance of infection. Prangeni generally heal by forming new skin, which has much neater results, but takes longer to form. Only deep cuts, cuts which become infected or cuts which are repeatedly opened will form scars.

I was healed enough to be back in action though. Which was good, because I'd been going stir crazy. Not that this was much different, because Sam and Dean were pretending to be state police and interviewing a witness and I was sat in the car, going through Dad's journal.

"So," The car jostled as my brothers returned, "kid says he heard a monster, looked out the window and didn't see anything. Just saw Mr Jenkins being pulled underneath a car, then heard a 'whining growl' as the monster took 'im away."

"'Whining growl'?" Well that… doesn't narrow it down much. Descriptions of sounds are so subjective anyway, and the number of creatures that growl, or whine for that matter… Maybe some kind of dog-like creature? "Well, maybe I've got something a little more helpful; Dad marked this area." I passed the journal forwards, open to the right page. Dean leaned across to see while Sam took the book, skimming through the information. "Possible hunting grounds of a phantom attacker."

"Why would he even do that?" Dean questioned, sitting back and starting the engine.

"Well, he found a lot of local folklore about a dark figure that comes out at night. Grabs people, then vanishes."

"He found this too," Sam added, "this county has more missing persons per capita than anywhere else in the state."

"That is weird."

"Yeah." Sam muttered, still with his nose in the journal.

"Don't phantom attackers usually snatch people from their beds? Jenkins was taken from a parking lot."

"Well, there are all kinds."Sam explained, raising his head and tilting the journal so Dean could the the pictures which had been inserted, "You know, Spring Heeled Jacks, phantom gassers. They take people anywhere, anytime."

"Spring Heeled Jacks generally hunt at night, they are described as being humanoid, with claws and eyes that burn with fire, they-"

"Yeah, thanks, Encyclopedia, we know what a Heeler is." Dean interrupted me and I huffed, crossing my arms as we pulled into the parking lot of a biker bar.

After Sam and Dean had changed out of the stolen police uniforms and we'd secured a table, beers and a set of darts, Sam and I had settled in to research a bit more about what this thing could be, and Dean was playing darts. By himself, because he threw a hissy fit after I beat him last time, and now I'm not allowed to play.

"So," Sam looked up from his laptop, "local police have not ruled out foul play. Apparently, there are were signs of a struggle."

"Well, they could be right, it could just be a kidnapping. Maybe this isn't our kind of gig." Dean threw another dart, and scored 1 point. See, this is how I beat him.

"Yeah, maybe not." Sam acknowledged.

"Except Dad did mark the area," I pointed out, there was a brief pause while Dean collected his darts from the board.

Sam finished his beer, "Look, Dean, I don't know if this is our kind of gig either."

"Yeah, you're right, we should ask around more tomorrow."

"Right. I saw a motel about five miles back." Sam started clearing the table.

"Whoa, whoa, easy. Let's have another round."

"We should get an early start." Sam argued.

"Yeah, you really know how to have fun, don't you, Grandma? Alright, I'll meet you outside, I gotta take a leak." He grabbed his jacket and headed towards the mens' room.

I turned to Sam, holding up Dean's wallet. "I'll get the tab."

Sam just laughed at me and headed outside.

I spent a little while reassuring the bar staff that I was just paying and that orange juice had been my tipple of the evening before following Sam outside. An old, rusty, red camper van was pulling away as I left the bar and a cat was sat atop a car. I cooed at it and reached out to stroke, but he wasn't very friendly and I continued towards the car. Dad's journal and all Sam's research was sitting on the boot. Just sat there, as if he'd put it down and wandered off.

"Sam?" I called, checking inside the car. "Sam?!" I raised my voice, looking around in the darkness. Where the hell had he gone? A few seconds later, still no response and I started to freak out.

The door of the bar opened, the music spilling out into the night before the door slammed shut after Dean. "Dean! Sam's missing!"

"What? You were with him! Where the hell'd he go?"

"I don't know, we separated while I payed the bill and by the time I got out here he was gone!"

Dean turned, surveying the area, and not seeing anything more than I did, "Sammy?!" Then he pointed at a traffic surveillance cam. "There, maybe that saw something. We'll ask the cops in the morning, in the mean time," he held my shoulders, keeping me facing him and I grasped his jacket, only now realising that my breathing was elevated. "What did you see?"

I took a few deep breaths and tried to think. "I was only a minute or so behind him, there was a campervan pulling away when I came out, and there was a cat. I found Dad's journal, Sam must've put it on the car… we should start there."

We searched that parking lot for at least half an hour, but didn't find anything. The parking lot was tarmac, there were no footprints to see, and other than the journal, no clues had been left behind, no blood (thank goodness), nothing! Not even a scent of fear or pain for me to follow.

The next morning Dean took his stolen police badge down to the local Sheriff's Department, he'd get his hands on the footage from the surveillance cam. While he was doing that, I would… try not to panic.

What really got me was the cat, and how I'd been trying to pet it instead of realising that my baby brother was in trouble. How could I? I'm the worst kind of sister. How could I not realise? Not notice that something was wrong? I should hav- wait; that cat was calm.

Most times when a supernatural creature is about animals will sense it and freak out. But the cat was calmly licking his paws when I saw him, and that could only have been seconds after Sam was taken.

So did the cat just not see it? Or maybe whatever had taken Sam, wasn't supernatural? Maybe we were just dealing with a run-of-the-mill kidnapping. Though why anyone would choose to kidnap a guy who's over 6 foot tall and clearly in his prime is anyone's guess. And that campervan; if it was the people that took him, then maybe they drove right passed me!

I'm an awful sister, how could they have driven right passed me and I didn't even know? If I'd just realised, I could have done something! If we'd stayed together, if I'd taken note of the numberplate, or even which direction the van went!

I pulled out my phone, calling Dean and telling him my suspisions. He agreed that we were probably looking for the van that had been there that night, apparently the traffic cam had seen it leaving, and had got a clean shot of the new plates on it. No way those plates belonged on such an old rust bucket. Dean had another lead too, he'd spotted a black van driving around town which had an engine that made a 'whining growl'.

Dean gave me an area to search on maps, he was going to stick with his new cop friend and see what they could find on the ground.

There wasn't much on the map. The area Dean had indicated, along a stretch of highway between a couple of traffic cams (one of which had seen the van, the other hadn't) was pretty boring. There were no junctions marked, no turn offs. But there were a bunch of properties, scattered on either side of the road. It was a stretch of about 50 miles, Sam could be anywhere. I sighed and glanced at my phone, which had been silent for a while now.

Then I grabbed my bag, phone and the key to the motel room and headed out. I found a bicycle on my way out of town and I 'borrowed' it. No, really, I have every intention of returning this bike in the exact same condition as it is now, and it's not like they had it chained up or anything, it was just lying on some kid's front lawn; slowly rusting in the rain.

I had memorised the map, I knew where I was headed, and I knew the size of vehicle that had taken Sam. I followed the route I knew they must have taken until I came to a muddy track on the right hand side. It wasn't much to look at, but there was a cop car parked at the junction, with Dean handcuffed to the door handle.

I dropped the bike and hurried over to him.

"Boy, am I glad to see you. Tell me you got a paper clip or something?"

I scowled at my brother and pulled a lock pick set from my pocket. I started picking the lock just as I heard a motor splutter and cough to life a little way down the path. Dean was soon free and I hissed at him to be quiet as I dragged him away, collecting the bike and taking it and my idiot brother further away, back down the road towards town while a whining, growling engine approached up the path.

Eventually it got close enough that even Dean, with his dull human ears could hear it. "Well, looks like you've got damn good timing."

"What happened?"

"Kathleen ran the badge, turns out I look nothing like Officer Washington. She went to check out this lane about quarter of an hour ago, guess she didn't want me running off in the mean time."

We ducked off the road into the wood line and watched as two unwashed men came into view. They laughed and walked towards the car.

"Well, I've never seen him so angry before." One of them stated.

"Well, Lee, never been followed by the police before." The other answered.

The first, Lee, used a key to unlock the car, and then got in and drove it away, up the driveway.

"Dean..." I turned to face him.

"Yeah, I know." He banged a fist against the tree trunk next to us, "Dammit, I told her not to go in there alone!"

"On the plus side, I'm pretty sure we found Sammy."

He gave me a dark look and started to move away, heading into the woods, parallel to the road. I followed, but I didn't get far before the nausea started.

"Dean," I reached for his sleeve and he stopped turning back to look at me, "These woods are full of deathcries."

"Yeah, pretty sure whatever's going on here, it's been happening for a while." He peered at my face, which was no doubt a pale green, "You want to head back to the road?"

I shook my head, "I'm coming to find Sammy."

I have to. I was the one who lost him.

He nodded to me and we pressed on. Eventually we came to a track, a clearing on the other side was filled with old cars. There were some buildings off to our left and we crouched well within the wood line, just watching for a few minutes.

'Ali, Dean, where are you guys?'

The voice was only faint in my head, but it was clearly Sam. "Dean!" I kept my voice low, grabbing his sleeve, "Sam's here! I can hear him!"

"Hear him?"

"Yes, adult prangeni can hear prayers! Or they used to, back when people knew about prangeni and would pray for them to relieve pain. My father told me about it, I've only heard them myself when I'm actually in physical contact with whoever's praying." It doesn't happen often, usually if I'm that close they don't need to pray anymore. "I must be reaching maturity if I can hear Sam now!"

He gave me a slightly weirded out look, "You got a location from that?"

I gestured towards the buildings, I didn't have a location, just a vague direction, kinda like with sound really. Dean nodded and we headed that way, keeping low and staying quiet. The rain was still coming down, helping to mask the slight squelch of our boots through the mud. I could hear the faint sound of music coming from the house, and raindrops dripping all around, drumming on the rooves of the buildings and the cars.

I guided Dean back away from the track as we got closer to the buildings until the barn was between us and the house. Then we started to creep forwards.

"You alright?" That was Sam's voice! Faint, somewhere inside the barn, but definitely Sam, I grinned at Dean and crept closer.

"Are you Sam Winchester?" This voice was unfamiliar to me, female. Dean's cop friend, Kathleen no doubt. "Your, uh, your cousin's looking for you."

"Thank God. Where are they?"

"I, uh—I cuffed him to my car." I could hear the regret in her voice. And grinned as I pulled the door open and Dean and I stepping inside.

"Sammy?" I hurried towards the cage containing my baby brother, "Are you hurt?" I'll never forgive myself if he's been hurt...

"No." Sam shook his head, grinning at us. I sagged in relief, it was like all the air just whooshed out of me; he's okay.

Dean banged his palm against the side of Sam's cage, "Damn, it's good to see you."

"How did you get out of the cuffs?" Kathleen asked from behind us. She had dark, shoulder length hair and pretty, pale grey eyes, and was staring at Dean and me in confusion.

"Oh, I know a trick or two." Dean told her and I snorted, shooting a grin at Sam. "Alright." Dean moved around to the door of Sam's cage. "Oh, these locks look like they're gonna be a bitch."

I joined him, he was right; they were heavy metal, no keyhole, with a thick guarded cable leading into the top of it, and it was solidly welded to the metal of the cage and the door.

"Well, there's some kind of automatic control right there." Sam pointed to a electrical control box on a pillar a few meters away.

"Have you seen 'em?" Dean asked as he went to investigate.

"Yeah. Dude, they're just people."

"And they jumped you? Must be gettin' a little rusty there, kiddo."

"Says they guy who got handcuffed to a cop car." I muttered under my breath. "What do they want?"

"I don't know. They let Jenkins go, but that was some sort of trap. It doesn't make any sense to me."

"Well, that's the point." Dean looked up from the control box where he'd been uselessly pressing buttons, "You know, with our usual playmates, there's rules, there's patterns. But with people, they're just crazy."

"See anything else out there?" Sam asked.

Dean headed back over to where I was now examining the construction of the cage, "Uh, he has about a dozen junked cars hidden out back. Plates from all over, so I'm thinkin' when they take someone, they take their car, too."

"Did you see a black Mustang out there?" Kathleen asked, "About ten years old?"

"Yeah, actually, I did." I looked up at her, her grief suddenly permeating the air of the barn.

"Your brother's?" Dean asked and she nodded. "I'm sorry. Let's get you guys out of here, then we'll take care of those bastards." He pointed at the control panel. "This thing takes a key. Key?"

Sam shrugged at him. And I wrenched on one of the steel rods that formed the top of Sam's cage. He glanced upwards, "You think I haven't already tried that?"

"I think I'm stronger then you." I told him bluntly, levering the bar away from the cage, only to have it spring mostly back into position when I let go.

"Yeah… I'm gonna go find that key." Dean announced, watching me shake out my hands and glare at the metal rod.

"Hey. Be careful." Sam called after Dean as he left, before reaching through the bars to grip my wrist. "Ali, they're steel bars, no human can bend those with their bare hands."

I stopped and gently released the bar, controlling it's return to a position only a couple of centimeters from where it had started. Sam was right, we had a witness and I was the only supernatural thing about this case; it'd be best not to clue her in. Plus my hands were starting to hurt, and this was very slow work.

After considering the cage for a while longer I turned away and snuck after Dean. I considered telling Sam to wait here, or not to go anywhere, but figured he wouldn't appreciate the humour. I stopped at the door, pulling it back far enough to slip through the crack and stepped into the barn beyond. The rain was coming to a stop outside, but the day was still overcast, which actually created better light conditions within the barn; bright sunlight would have created dark shadows, at least this way everything was dark and with my eyes adjusted I could still see, though only in black and white.

I have more light sensitive cells in my eyes than humans do, which means I can see in lower light conditions. The colour sensitivity seems about normal for a female. Colour sensitive cells require more light in order to send a signal to the brain, so in low light humans (and prangeni) see in black and white.

I stayed close to the wall, hugging the shadows as I crept closer to the door, I found a crack in the wall off to one side, and avoiding pressing my eye right against it and becoming visible from the other side, I peered through. Dean had crossed the yard and I was just in time to see him disappearing around the side of the house. I could still hear the old-time music playing from within the house, and something that sounded like chopping.

I watched each of the windows for some time, but could see no movement through the dirt and detritus that was blocking them. Dean's torchlight flashed a couple of times in the cellar, but then disappeared. All was still for a while and I watched, tense and waiting. Debating between going to help,or staying with the helpless caged people.

The peace was interrupted by a girl's shouts inside the house, calling for the attention of her father, then there was a clattering, before all went still again.

That didn't sound good. Sure enough a moment later I could see movement through the grimy windows on the ground floor, possibly someone looking though. I held very still; nothing makes you easier to spot than movement. Once the shadow had moved away from the glass I withdrew and returned to Sam and Kathleen.

"Dean's been captured." I announced quietly as I entered.

"Shit." Was Sam's concise response.

"What happened?" Kathleen asked, her fingers curling though the bars of her cage.

"I don't know, wasn't close enough to see. A girl shouted, then it sounded like a fight, it's gone quiet now." Even the music had stopped.

"I met the girl too. Little psycho." Kathleen commented, sitting back in her cage.

Well, that didn't sound promising. I chewed on my lip as I watched the two in cages and considered my options. I could go in, guns blazing, rescue my brother, find the key and save the day. Probability of success: low. There were at least three people in there, the two men I'd seen earlier and the girl I'd heard shouting. Given neither of the men I'd seen looked old enough to have fathered a girl whose voice sounded at least early teens, I'd say there's likely an older man in there too.

I could stay here, protect Sam and Kathleen, and abandon Dean to whatever had befallen him. Which might be something he could get himself out of, or it might not be. There had been a fight which had ended, and people had appeared in the windows, people plural. Most likely scenario was that Dean had lost the fight. Whether he was hurt, unconscious, or worse remained to be seen. I couldn't sense any pain, but the yard between the barn and the house was wide, even a deathcry probably wouldn't reach me here.

I had to go and find out what had happened to Dean. But the guns blazing plan still didn't sound like a good idea. They'd been alerted to our presence, they'd be watching out for anyone sneaking up on them. But I had to chance it, I couldn't not go after him.

"Okay, look, I'm going after Dean. Sam… don't go anywhere." What can I say, the joke was too good to resist a second time. Though Sam's bitchface told me he didn't agree.

I crept back to my position to the side of the barn door and watched the house carefully for several minutes. I couldn't see anymore movement, not even a twitch of lace curtains. I took a couple of deep breaths then, scurried out the door and across the yard, jumping over and around puddles to avoid any splashing sounds. I hurried to the other corner to where I'd last seen movement and paused for a moment, tucked in against the wall of the house.

I listened carefully and could hear voices and movement, all in the same corner that I'd seen shadows in the windows before. I crept slowly forward, looking for a way into the house and keeping an ear out for any movement in my direction. Nothing much happened until I got to the diagonally opposite corner of the house. I didn't want to round the next corner and risk being seen from the bay window of the room I was still hearing movement from. I took a quick peek around the corner and could see no one in the bay looking out the window, but I'd still rather find another way in. I eventually decided to follow the same route Dean had taken through the cellar.

Taking extra care not to make a sound I lifted the cellar hatch just far enough to slip inside and carefully let it close behind me. Rather than risk a torch I sat still on the stairs and waited a moment for my eyes to adjust. The voices had pretty much fallen silent above, but I could still hear people, hear their weight shifting and was pretty certain they were all still in the same place. Slowly the shadows faded sufficiently into view that I could see outlines of objects, shelving to my right, rows of jars with light glinting off their dusty glass and unidentifiable contents sitting dark within them. I moved cautiously, taking my time to place each step. Haste would cause noise, and I didn't want to loose the element of surprise if I still had it.

The stairs up into the house looked old, the wooden steps were worn in the middle of the treads. It looked solid enough, but there was no guarantee the steps wouldn't creak. Even slow steps sometimes cannot prevent wood from creaking underfoot, it's caused by the movement after all, not the speed with which you move. I ascended the stairs on all fours, spreading my weight somewhat and testing the stairs with my lighter hands first allowed me to discover the fourth step up creaked and I was careful to release the light pressure I had applied and to skip that step.

Once at the top I straightened. The door before me was closed. I stopped here to listen. The movement hadn't changed whilst I'd been creeping through the cellar, and was still all contained in the one place. There was no talking, no sounds to cover the sound of a door opening, so I waited.

I didn't have to wait long, a groan in a familiar voice prompted speech from the others and sheer relief from me as Dean came to consciousness.

"Come on. Let us hunt him."

"Yeah, this one's a fighter. Sure would be fun to hunt." Laughter followed that comment.

Dean's voice responded with the same level of repulsion that I was feeling at the realisation, "Oh, you gotta be kiddin' me. That's what this is about? You - you yahoos hunt people?"

"You ever killed before?"

"Wh-" Dean scoffed slightly, and I shared his amusement, as I carefully took a firm grip on the doorknob, "Well, that depends on what you mean."

"I've hunted all my life." The rough voice sounded slightly gleeful, I used the cover to carefully open the door, slowly releasing the doorknob and gently exhaling as I pushed the door slowly open, a dim hallway coming into view beyond. "Just like my father, his before him. I've hunted deer and bear—I even got a cougar once. Oh boy. But the best hunt is human. Oh, there's nothin' like it. Holdin' their life in your hands. Seein' the fear in their eyes just before they go dark. Makes you feel powerful alive."

"You're a sick puppy."

"We give 'em a weapon. Give 'em a fightin' chance." The voice went on as I approached along the hall, carefully ducking beneath what looked like a wind chimes made of bone. The pelvis dangling from a string would no doubt haunt my subconscious for a while... "It's kind of like our tradition passed down, father to son. Of course, only one or two a year. Never enough to bring the law down, we never been that sloppy."

"Yeah, well, don't sell yourself short. You're plenty sloppy." I silently agreed with my brother as I sidled closer to the doorway. I mean, they hadn't even searched the house or grounds after finding someone sneaking through their house!

"So, what, you with that pretty cop? Are you a cop?"

"If I tell you, you promise not to make me into an ashtray?" Am I a bad person that I had to bite the inside of my lip not to laugh at that?

There was movement within the room and I got as close as I could without being seen. "Only reason I don't let my boys take you right here and now is that there's somethin' I need to know."

"Yeah, how 'bout it's not nice to marry your sister?" What to do? What to do?

"Tell me—any of the cops gonna come lookin' for you?" If I was going with guns blazing, this was as good a time as any.

"Oh, eat me. No, no, no, wait, wait, wait—you actually might." Definitely four people in the room, I didn't know if any of them were armed and Dean was in there too, presumably restrained.

"You think this is funny? You brought this down on my family."He sounded angry, though he didn't have a right in my opinion; how much misery has he brought to other families? To my family if we hadn't found Sam in time? "Alright, you wanna play games? We'll play some games. Looks like we're gonna have a hunt tonight after all, boys." Time to decide… "And you get to pick the animal. The boy or the cop?"

"Okay, wait, wait—look, nobody's comin' for me, alright? It's just us." Well, I don't have any other plan. I pulled a pistol from the holster that I'd sewn to the inside of my bag and pulled the magazine of regular bullets checking the top round before gently loading it into the pistol grip and then drawing back the slide.

"You don't choose, I will." Dean was screaming in pain as I stepped through the doorway. I released the slide, loading the first round into the chamber and fired.

The red hot iron rod fell to the ground as the grizzled man holding it crumpled to the ground, a bullet through his head. The two men I'd seen earlier, Lee and the other one, jumped at the sound turning to me with shock in their eyes. I pointed the gun at Lee and pulled the trigger again, the recoil of the pistol causing it to point at the ceiling for a brief second before I was bringing it to bear on his brother. I pulled the trigger a third time, but the shot went wide as I was tackled from the side and I fell to the ground.

The girl was on top of me, screaming, scratching and clawing at me, I threw my elbow back, catching her in the shoulder and knocking her aside enough to buy a second to shoot her brother, who was stalking towards us with murder in his eyes. The bullet caught him in the shoulder and he howled while the girl twisted back over me and brandished a knife towards the hand that was holding the gun.

I brought my elbow back again, the knife cutting my hand as I moved passed it. I caught the girl in the face this time and I twisted under her, sitting up slightly and using my other hand to grab her hand, pushing it back and forcing her knife into her own shoulder.

The man's fist caught me in the forehead and I let the force knock me onto my back. His leg was moving back to kick me. I brought the gun up for a forth time. This time blood blossomed from his chest. He fell. Blood appeared at his lips too.

The girl was whimpering. Dean was panting slightly. The man's last breaths were bubbling. The other two men were dead already.

I pulled myself to my feet, and surveyed the room. The old man was on the ground beside Dean, the hot poker burning a hole through the carpet at his side. Lee was laying twisted away from me, a pool of blood steadily spreading across the floor from where his face rested against the boards. The other man was slowly dying against the wall and the girl appeared to be going into shock.

I kept my eye on her as I walked around behind Dean and started untying the knots that bound him. I planted the gun in his hand, "Watch her."

I carefully pulled Dean's shirt away from his chest where the iron had burned through the fabric. I had to push against his chest to keep him sat still while I unbuttoned his shirt to give me better access. The burn wasn't deep, but it was hurting him. It needed cold water and to be covered over. Though frankly I didn't trust even the water in this place to be clean. The whole house seemed to be filthy. For now it'd just have to air, and I'd relieve the pain for him.

Across the room the girl's whimpers turned to sobs.

"Where's the key?" I asked coldly.

The girl ignored me. "The key, bitch!"

Her sobs turned to howls and she started to scream at me from where she sat. She was gripping her shoulder tightly and blood leaked from between her fingers.

I crossed the room and bent over in front of her. Lowering my voice but keeping it just as cold. "I won't ask nicely a third time."

The blood covered fingers swiped at me, aiming for my face, but I merely stood back, out of reach. Then I grabbed her hand, holding it out the way while I reached for her injured shoulder, pressing my thumb against the wound and making her howl again. "Where's the key?" My voice was getting steadily quieter, like most women, if I'm being loud, there's not much to fear. If I'm really angry, I go quiet. Right now, I was really angry.

The girl gasped, snot and tears running down her face as I let up the pressure on her shoulder. I waited a few seconds, but she made no apparent effort to speak to me. I pressed at her shoulder again, digging my thumb into the knife wound this time. Her screams reached a new pitch and she passed out.

I dropped her and turned back to Dean. He'd been silent, saying not a word since I'd first pulled the trigger. His face was blank and he seemed to be staring unblinkingly at the girl where I'd dropped her. His face was slightly ashen and I stepped close enough to be able to reach to draw his pain away again. He flinched slightly as I touched his hand, but my gaze had been drawn to the glint of a metal chain around the neck of the old man who'd been torturing my brother with a hot iron. I reached out and delicately pulled the chain away trying to touch the corpse as little as possible as I did so.

It wasn't the dead body that bothered me, you can't be a hunter and be disturbed by dead things. It was the fact that he both looked and smelled like he hadn't bathed in years. A key danced along the chain as I lifted it free of the man's shirt. I grinned and pulled it over the man's head, parts of the chain turning red as I did so.

I straightened, holding up the chain, the key dangling from it and grinned at Dean. He looked up at me, but still didn't speak. "What?"

"You tortured her." His voice was even, without inflection.

I tilted my head to one side slightly, I wasn't sure where he was going with this. I had tortured her, but if she'd just told me where the key was I'd have stopped. And if she hadn't involved herself with the fight I'd probably have dismissed her as a threat and ignored her entirely. By fighting me she'd proven that she was an equal, not a mere child, and she had lost any protection that status may have offered her.

"You tortured her!" He looked a little horrified now.

I didn't answer. He clearly had a problem with my actions, and I wasn't sure how badly he'd react. He probably had a point, given I'd found the key without the girls assistance in the end anyway, we could have skipped the torturing, but I hadn't known that at the time. I'm still honestly a little conflicted about leaving her alive. I'm not going to execute her, but it might have been better if she'd died in the fight. As it was, she was too old to unlearn the beliefs she'd been raised with, and if you add in the trauma of having her family killed in front of her (and being tortured) the best case scenario was that she'd spend the rest of her life in the high security wing of a mental hospital. Hopefully she'd get there without killing anyone.

"You tortured her, Alison!" He definitely seemed to be looking for a response from me now. A lack of answer is still a response, and usually not considered a good one. It was time to find something to say.

"Yes. And if she'd had the chance she'd have tortured you. She was a monster, Dean. No different from what we usually hunt."

We stared at each other for a moment longer, I could see various emotions flickering behind Dean's jade green eyes, too fast to identify them. This isn't the first time he's seen me fight or kill. So it wasn't that that was freaking him out, it was just my actions with the girl. He probably sees her as human, but me, I don't. Monsters for me are made by their actions, not their species. That girl was a cannibal, she may or may not have joined in hunting people for sport, but she certainly ate them afterwards. And she'd emitted no distress at all when her father had been torturing Dean. In my mind, that girl was a monster.

Whether or not my actions cast me as a monster too is another matter, of course. A matter that was clearly bothering Dean quite deeply.

If Dean sees me as a monster, he could leave me. I could loose my brother over this.

"She's just a kid." His voice was small as he looked up at me from where he sat.

"She chose to be a fighter. If we hadn't come along her brothers would have hunted Sam like an animal and she would have eaten him for a Sunday roast. She wasn't an innocent." He had to believe me, had to see it the same way I did.

"Sam..." Dean muttered still looking up at me, a little dazed, before he shook himself and stood. "Let's go get Sam and get the hell out of here."

We left the room, leaving the fallen where they lay.

Kathleen had wanted a full explanation of what had happened. We told her Dean had been captured, that they'd been torturing him and talking about killing both her and Sam for sport. We told her I'd shot and killed the three men in self defence and that the girl had been injured by her own knife in the scuffle. It was as close to the truth as it needed to be and the cut on my hand and the scratches and bruises on my face supported the self defence line.

She got very quiet after we told her they'd been hunting people because it was their version of fun.

She called the situation in on her radio and was good enough to warn us to get out of dodge before the state police or FBI could arrive.

"Thanks. Hey, listen, I don't mean to press our luck, but we're kind of in the middle of nowhere. Think we could catch a ride?"

"Start walking." She answered, "Duck if you see a squad car."

"Sounds great to me. Thanks." Sam gave her a smile and set off.

Dean however, hesitated. "Listen, uh… I'm sorry about your brother."

"Thank you." She looked away, blinking back tears. "It was really hard not knowing what happened to him. I thought it would be easier once I knew the truth—but it isn't really."

We left her alone to wait for the back up to arrive, starting the long walk back to town.

"Never do that again." I glanced up at Dean in alarm, thinking he was talking to me.

"Do what?" Sam asked, I didn't want him to know. It had already changed how Dean was looking at me, please don't let Sammy know too!

"Go missin' like that."

Sam laughed, "You were worried about me."

They continued to banter back and forth and I felt the relief flood through me. Dean and I would need to talk more, try to work this out. I was the same person I'd always been, willing to do just about anything to protect these boys, and I really didn't want the way they see me to change.

I'd never stop protecting them, but I'd much rather do it as their sister than as some psychopath who tortures people for fun. It would be miserable, to be on the outside looking in. Never able to laugh and joke with them, to share a meal, to cuddle up at night. They are my family, I can't loose them.

Once we were back at the motel, and Sam was taking a much needed shower, I finally had a chance to talk to Dean alone. Not that talking to Dean about deep stuff is ever easy.

"Dean? Are you still bothered by what happened in the house?"

He hadn't quite been able to meet my eye since we'd left the farm, and now was no exception. "She was just a kid, Ali. If actions make the monster, what do your actions make you?"

He was right in a way, the girl hadn't chosen to been born into that family, raised in that way. But then, most of the creatures we hunt and kill for what they are didn't chose to be what they are either. I pointed this out to Dean, but he remained silent, staring off to one side with a frown on his face. "Her species doesn't excuse her actions, if anything being human makes her worse than most of the things we hunt."

I let my words sink in for a while, going back over the whole event in my head. Had I defined myself as a monster? Did I regret what I'd done? If I could go back, what would I change?

In the end I don't know that I'd have changed anything, but I do know that I regret Dean seeing me torture the girl. Did I regret actually doing it? I'm not sure. I didn't learn anything from it, so there was no real need for it. As for the pain I'd caused… perhaps I'm not the best judge. I'd certainly been through worse when I was smaller than her, but that didn't mean it wasn't awful for her. Certainly the emotionally scaring would last a long time, quite possibly for the rest of her life, but that was mostly a result of seeing her family die.

Did it make me a monster? I'm not sure. Did it make me like my father? ...Maybe it did. That was a scary thought. My father was definitely a monster, but part of that was the fact that he'd chosen to torture and feed from his own child.

I hadn't tortured the girl for my own satisfaction; for food or for fun. I'd needed information and believed that she would give it to me. I'd treated her as a monster, not as a human child, but in the end she was still a sentient being. There should always be a question over the correct treatment of any sentient being.

If it had been just a normal hunt, if it hadn't been Sam in that cage, if they hadn't burned Dean, would I still have done the same thing? ...Probably not.

I was vicious because they had attacked my family, and the girl was the last target to take it out on. Attacking isn't a healthy coping mechanism, I should probably work on that.

I picked at the scab slowly forming over the cut on my hand. The cut from the same knife that had stabbed into the girl's shoulder.

Am I a monster? Dad always kind of saw me that way, I think. Ever since I told him I wasn't human. He changed how he treated me after that, training me to be useful, faithful. A soldier. Never a daughter.

But Sam and Dean didn't see me that way. They thought of me as a sister and I'd give anything to keep that privilege. I don't want to be a monster, I don't want to be seen as a monster.

A tear leaked out of my eye, stinging as it rolled over the scratches on my face. I brushed it away.

I regretted being seen torturing the girl. Part of me regrets doing it at all, another part just sees her as a monster who hurt my family. No doubt the same way she sees me.

It really wasn't her fault, being born into that family, being raised that way. I wonder, if I hadn't been rescued from my father, if I'd survived long enough to be brought up that way, if my father had found another food source, would I have become a monster? Would I have deliberately hurt others for my own benefit?

Hadn't I done that in a way today anyway? Is it strange that if she'd died instead, I wouldn't be questioning myself over this? I'd have called her a monster and good riddance, but she hadn't died, she'd been tortured. By me.

Dean interrupted my thoughts by reaching out and pulling my injured hand towards him, examining the cut. "We need to clean this."

He fetched the first aid kit from his duffel and started rubbing an alcohol wipe over the cut, clearing the dried blood away and stinging slightly. We sat in silence until Sam came out of the bathroom, steam following him into the room. We chatted for a while and then Sam turned the lights out and got into bed, sighing as he stretched out and relaxed back into the pillow.

Dean settled himself into the other bed and I retreated to a chair by the window. I pulled one foot up onto the chair and rested my chin on my knee, staring out the window. I was tired and wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed with a brother, safe and sound and loved.

But Dean wouldn't want a monster curling up with him or with Sammy.

So I'd sit by the window and keep watch. Dad taught me to do this when we were little. Whenever he was hunting something and we were staying in the same town, I was expected to watch over the boys while they slept, keep them safe until Dad came home. I was in Dad's eyes a creature, not a child. A young creature, maybe, but that only meant that I could be moulded, shaped into the loyal soldier he needed. Dean will see me that way now too, only this is worse; Dad never had a reason to mistrust me. I had never shown any inclination to be violent, to attack without provocation. Dean watched me torture a child. A monstrous child, but still a child. Why would he ever trust me again?

"Aren't you tired?" Dean's voice was low, careful not to disrupt Sam's snores.

I didn't move, I didn't want to have to speak out loud and acknowledge my loss. I wanted him to fall asleep so I could mourn without making him feel guilty.

"Come to bed, Ali."

I shook my head slightly, "I'm fine here."

"It wasn't a request."

He was sitting up in bed, the covers pushed down and one arm gesturing to me. His face didn't show anything. I stood and moved slowly towards him. Once I was close enough he caught hold of my wrist and tugged me down into the bed. "It's okay, Ali. I got you."

I waited until his breathing had deepened before I let the tears fall.