Ali continued to sulk in the back of the impala and Sam wondered how long the behaviour would last for. More than a few weeks had passed since what he liked to call 'the fight' and he didn't see any sign of the girl and his brother reconciling. Sam had attempted to talk to Dean about what had happened but his efforts had been futile – his questioning was usually either met by an angry "drop it, Sammy," or "seriously, I'm fine!" the latter a clear sign of denial. Sam hadn't had much luck with the teenage girl either. Ali refrained from talking to both of them as much as possible, spending most of her time avoiding them in her motel room or excessively reading and studying any hunter related material she could get her hands on. They were both as stubborn as each other.
In the end, Sam had given up and succumbed to the role of an impartial spectator in their game of eye-rolls and tactless-jabs, a position he knew wouldn't aggravate the situation any further. He now referred to himself as Switzerland.
"Can we pull over at the next rest stop?" Ali's voice came from behind him, the slight edge in her tone causing Sam to sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose. He could feel an argument brewing.
"No," Dean grunted, swerving into the inner lane. There was a beat of silence and Sam prayed that the conversation had ended. His wish was not granted.
"Why not?" Ali asked as she sat upright in her seat. Sam was glad she had taken the seat behind him and not the one on the driver's side so she couldn't smack Dean in the back of the head.
"I wanna be outta the state before nightfall," Dean replied as he glanced up at the lowering sun. "We won't make it if we stop."
"We've been in this car for nearly six hours straight," the girl argued. "I just need to stretch my legs… and I have to pee," she added when there was no reply. Dean grumbled under his breath as his grip tightened on the steering wheel. Sensing the tension in the car, Sam leaned closer to his brother, thinking of a way to dispel the negativity that was building in the confined space.
"Look, I saw a sign for a gas station a couple miles back," he started, trying to come up with a plan that would please both parties. He himself wouldn't mind some time out of the car. "It won't take ten minutes."
Dean let out a harsh huff. "Fine," he replied, keeping his eyes fixed on the highway. Within a few minutes, he had turned off the main road and pulled up outside the gas station. The sun had sunken lower in the sky and he sighed in annoyance as he checked the time.
"Hurry up, I don't wanna be stuck here all day," he said as he swung the door open and climbed out of the driver's seat. Ali followed closely behind, not sparing him a glance as she stalked off in the direction of the rest room. "You're welcome," he called after her sarcastically. Dean couldn't see her face as she walked away from him, but he guessed he would've seen her roll her eyes in irritation.
Sam watched as Dean turned away from the girl and leaned casually against the impala. "Don't start," his brother said as he caught his eye.
"I didn't say anything," Sam replied, holding his hands up in mock surrender.
"Yeah, but you were thinkin," Dean said, folding his arms across his chest. There was a pause, and Dean winced in anticipation of Sam's next words.
"Dean," the younger Winchester sighed. "This can't go on," he told his brother. "I don't care if you don't want to. You gotta talk to her."
"I'm handling it," Dean insisted as he pulled away from the car and started to make his way towards the small store.
"You've gotta tell her the truth."
"I'm handling it, Sammy," he repeated with more force – it was almost a shout. "I'm gonna go grab a bite," he said with a sigh. "Can you fill her up?" he asked, gesturing to the car. Sam nodded defeatedly.
"Sure." Dean nodded and carried on into the store. He immediately grabbed a beer and a large packet of chips before heading over to the cash register, taking his time to glance at the magazines on the way. He selected one and joined the queue behind a woman, a kid that couldn't've been two yet cradled in her arms.
By the time Dean had made it to the front of the queue he had already opened the bag of potato chips and had munched his way through a good proportion of them. The balding cashier raised a bored eyebrow at him.
"Five-fifty," he grunted as he stared at Dean blankly. The elder Winchester slapped the correct amount onto the counter as he crunched on his snack.
"Thanks," he muttered, grabbing his goods and walking back outside. He spotted Sam by Baby, clearly having already filled up the tank whilst he was gone.
"Where's Ali?" he asked, instantly noticing that she was yet to return.
"In the restroom," Sam replied with a roll of his eyes. Dean frowned in annoyance.
"She's been gone a while," he commented as he handed the chips to Sam and cracked open his beer.
"Dean, it's been like five minutes," he said incredulously. Dean shot him a scowl but tried to let it go anyway as he took a much-needed gulp of his beer and tried to ignore the nagging feeling at the back of his mind. The seconds seemed to drag by endlessly and not before long, he was complaining about Ali's whereabouts again.
"We should go tell her to hurry up," he said as he tapped on the glass bottle nervously. "What's taking her so long?"
"I dunno, Dean. She's a girl. Maybe she has to do…" he trailed off as he tried to think of the right word. "…girl stuff." Dean flinched as a grimace took over his expression.
"Right. Maybe you should go check on her," he suggested. Sam had had enough.
"She's not a child, Dean. She doesn't need a babysitter," he said, his words coming out harsh, but fair. "If you're so worried, you go check on her." Dean shook his head at his brother's what-he-thought ludicrous suggestion, only to find himself taking the idea and making his way around the back of the store where the restrooms were.
The sky had darkened significantly since they had arrived. Dean could see the rays of light poking out from underneath the restroom door. The door was marked with both a male and female sign and Dean thanked his lucky stars that he wouldn't have to enter a women-only bathroom.
He pushed the door open slowly and peered around the door as he called, "Alisson?"
"What?" an irritated voice said from across the room. The teen had her hands under the running water in the sink, the feeble pressure meaning her cupped hands took a long time to fill. Once the water was spilling over her fingertips, she splashed it onto her face. The three cubicles on the other side of the compact room appeared to be empty.
"Everything alright?" Dean asked, feeling a little awkward for intruding. He wished he had listened to Sam.
"Yeah," she replied curtly. "You don't have to follow me to the bathroom in case a monster tries to eat me." Dean sent her an unimpressed looked before turning on his heel.
"Let's go," he instructed, making his way to the door and grasping the handle. He twisted it and shoved, surprised when it wouldn't budge. He fiddled with the handle again, rattling it as he tried to get it to turn all the way around. It wouldn't. He punched it in annoyance. "Dammit," he breathed as realisation hit him. "Sam," he muttered like the name was a curse word. "Sam!"
"Yeah?" He heard Sam's muffled voice on the other side of the door. He sounded almost…smug.
"Can you unlock the door please," he asked, growing more and more irritated by the second. Ali had joined him by the door now, her arms crossed firmly over her chest.
"Sorry I can't seem to find the key," Sam said lightly. Ali grumbled as she pushed past Dean and kicked at the door.
"Sam. Open the damn door," she requested through gritted teeth, banging on the metal with her fist.
"I can't do that," Sam said. "Not until you two start talking to each other again."
"You want us to hug and discuss our feelings? Is that it?" Dean asked as if the mere suggestion disgusted him.
"Sounds about right."
"This isn't a game, Sam," Dean said angrily. "Stop messing around, I'm serious."
"So am I," Sam replied through the door. "You two need to sort it out because I'm done playing referee."
"Sam, I swear to god…" Ali threatened, her fingers curling into fists once again below her too-long sleeves.
"I'll be back in a couple of hours," Sam said, ignoring the protests from Ali and Dean.
"Sam!" they both shouted in annoyance, but it was too late. Ali walked away, going further into the small bathroom as Dean remained by the door, kicking at it in the hopes it would magically swing open. The clanging sound gave her a headache and she was glad when he finally stopped.
"I hope you realise this is your fault," she said, sending Dean a glare. "If you didn't insist on babysitting me every second Sam wouldn't've been able to lock us in."
"Yeah, well if you hadn't made me pull over it wouldn't have happened in the first place!" Dean scolded back, his voice full of bite. Ali didn't respond, simply leaning against the tiled wall and letting herself slide down to the floor. The bathroom looked pretty grimy to say the least, but she chose a spot that didn't look too bad.
She watched Dean on the other side of the room as he leaned against the opposite wall. He had his body turned away from her. Suddenly his shoulders seemed to tense and he straightened up. Ali furrowed her brow at him as he patted down his jeans as if searching for something.
"Jackass took my gun," Ali heard him mumble as he kicked over the trash can in annoyance. She rolled her eyes at his childish behaviour. After not very long, Dean had joined her on the floor, though still kept a distance between them. She watched as he flicked through a magazine, his eyes trained on the shiny pages.
"Busty Asian Beauties," Ali read, making out the letters on the cover from across the room. "Seriously?" Dean looked up and sent her what she would only describe as a bitch face.
The pair fell back into silence as Dean flicked through the magazine and Ali tried to think of as many reasons as possible why she should go back to Bobby's.
Reason one: Bobby didn't treat her like a seven-year-old. Most of the time.
Reason two: she never had to sit in the back of the car at Bobby's. It was always the passenger seat.
Reason three: although she knew that Bobby wouldn't help her find out what happened to her brother, she wasn't sure how likely it would be that Sam and Dean would help her. They'd said they would, but they hadn't delivered at all in the months she had been with them.
Reason four: no more dingy hotel rooms. That was enough of a reason in itself.
Reason five: she already felt like she had overstayed her welcome. If they weren't going to let her help on another hunt, what was the point in even being there?
Reason six –
"You know, Sam's not gonna let us out until we talk to each other." Dean's voice interrupted Ali's thoughts and she looked up to see him making eye contact with her. She shot him a quizzical look.
"Are you saying we should talk?" she asked sceptically. Dean scoffed.
"Hell no," he replied. "I'm saying we should try to find a way to get outta here ourselves." Ali sighed in annoyance.
"If you wanna try to break the door down, be my guest. I'm good sitting here until Sam gets bored," she said. Was he trying to extend an olive branch? Ali wasn't going to cave that easily.
"Fine, act like a child, fine by me." Ali looked up as her eyes narrowed at the man before her.
"What is your obsession with calling me a kid?" she asked as she stood up, growing angry. She was pissed and this needed to be sorted out once and for all. "I'm nearly seventeen. I'm older that you were when you started hunting."
"That doesn't mean you're ready," Dean said with a shake of his head.
"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Ali yelled disbelievingly. "Hunting is my whole life. I've been training practically since I was born!"
"Look, Ali, I know you have," Dean sighed. "I know you're a Venator and you wanna find out about your brother, but this doesn't have to be it for you. You don't have to be a hunter."
"Yes, I do, Dean. How do you not get that?" Dean stared at her with something of regret in his eyes. Ali wasn't sure if it was for what he had said or for letting her come with them at the start. "You know what Venator means?"
"I don't need a Latin lesson from you," Dean scoffed.
"It means hunter," Ali told him. Dean looked up at her, meeting her eyes. "You're right when you say hunting is your family business. But you know what, Dean. It's mine too." She took a breath before she spoke again, her eyes fixed on Dean as she hoped her words would get through to him. "I never made it to freshman year of high school," she said. "I can't go to Stanford like Sam did. This is my life. There's nothing else for me." Ali paused, her words full of sincerity. "And if there was, I wouldn't want it."
Dean didn't say anything as he processed her words. Although he wasn't going to admit it, he understood what she was saying. It made sense. He didn't know a hunter that didn't know the name Venator. They were one of the oldest families of hunters, and Ali was one of them.
"I didn't choke, Dean," she said quietly, referring to the hunt she had been allowed to participate in. "I didn't know if I had a clean shot. I might have taken it if it had been someone else. But it was Sam." Ali held her breath as Dean turned towards her again. He blinked once before he spoke.
"I believe you." Ali let a small smile tug at her lips at his words and she nodded.
"You wanna call Sam so we can get the hell outta here," she said and Dean chuckled.
"Gladly." Ali watched as Dean pulled out his phone. She pulled her jumper over her hands, her skin feeling a little cool. She thought nothing of it until she noticed goose bumps forming on Dean's outstretched hand.
"Did you just feel that?" she asked as her eyes grew wide. Dean looked up from the phone.
"It's nothing," he said, shaking off the suggestion that it was anything more sinister. "It's past nightfall, probably just getting colder."
"It was like 80 degrees out," Ali commented, her heart racing as adrenaline started pumping around her body. She wrapped her arms around her body as she tried to keep warm, the air feeling like it had dropped at least 20 degrees. Dean continued to dial Sam's number, but started in shock when he noticed his breath. It was condensing in the air, each exhale causing a small white cloud to form before it dispersed into the air.
"Okay, that's weird," he said as he straightened up.
"It almost like –."
"No, don't say it," Dean said, cutting her off and praying she was wrong. He knew she wasn't.
"Cold spots," she said finally, blowing a long breath out into the freezing air before the strip lighting started to flicker.
Sam sat in the passenger seat of the stationary impala as he worked his way through Dean's bag of chips. He checked his watch. It had only been a little over forty minutes since he had left Dean and Ali in the bathroom. He would wait at least another twenty before he would go and check that they hadn't killed each other.
He flicked through his father's journal, looking for any more information that he didn't already know. He let another five minutes pass before he hopped out of the car, deciding he needed some water. As he slammed the door however, he heard a blood curdling scream coming from inside the store. Alarmed and concerned, he grabbed Dean's Glock he had lifted from him and sprinted to the store.
The screaming hadn't stopped by the time he arrived and he held the gun up in front of him as he rounded the corner. His eyes widened when he saw a woman, maybe in her late twenties, holding a child tightly in her arms and screaming her lungs out. She looked absolutely terrified. Sam placed the gun into his jeans before rushing to her side.
"Are you okay?" he asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. She flinched at the contact, but stopped screaming. Now she just shook with terror. "What happened?" He watched as she extended a shaky hand to her right, though she turned her head away as if she didn't want to look.
Sam gasped at the sight of what looked like the cashier lying on the floor, his eyes wide open though he was definitely not alive. What appeared to be four pencils were protruding out of the man's neck, his white shirt drenched in oozing crimson blood.
Sam tightened his jaw at the sight before placing an arm around the woman and pulling her away from the gory scene. She was breathing heavily and Sam worried she might turn hysterical.
"Hey, hey," he said as he sat her down. She pulled her child onto her lap and held her close. "What's your name?"
"H-Hannah," she stuttered as she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to get rid of the grotesque image from her mind.
"Hannah," he repeated back to her. "I'm Sam." He sent her a reassuring smile to try to calm her down. "You're gonna be alright. Now, can you tell me what happened?"
"I- I was in here earlier but I forgot to pick up vitamins for my husband," she said shakily. "And when I came back I just found him like that." She whimpered at the memory, tears escaping her eyes.
"You didn't see it happen?" he asked and she shook her head. Just then, Sam heard his phone start to ring and he answered it quickly. "Dean?"
"Sam, look I don't have time to explain but you need to come and let us out right now," Dean said urgently. "Actually, go into the store first, get everyone out, and them come and get us."
"Why?" Sam asked, baffled as how Dean could know there was an emergency.
"Cold spots, Sam," Dean said. "Cold. Spots."
"Okay, I'm in there now with a woman and her kid. We'll head out now," Sam told Dean as he motioned for the woman to stand up.
"Wait, what about the cashier?" Dean asked, already regretting asking.
"The cashier's dead," Sam said with a wince, he heard Dean release a breath down the phone.
"What? How?" he asked.
"Something stuck four pencils in his neck," Sam said grimly.
"Pencils, huh?" Dean commented. "What kinda pencils?" Sam heard Ali scoff faintly on the other end of the line.
"I dunno, HB? Does it matter?" Sam asked. Dean ignored the question.
"Could you just hurry up? It's getting pretty chilly in here" he asked sarcastically.
"Sure," Sam agreed, walking towards the door to the store, Hannah and her kid following closely behind. But as he approached the automatic doors, the lights started to flicker, and the door didn't slide open like it should have. "Dean?" he said with a frown. "We may have a problem."
"Shit," Ali breathed as Dean hung up the phone. The lights continued to flicker and every now and again, the pair would spend a few seconds in complete darkness. "What kinda ghost haunts a fricking gas station?"
"A clever one," Dean commented as he inspected the hinges on the door that was trapping them inside. "It's gotten into the electrics. Put that together with pencil guy…my best bet is vengeful spirit."
"Great," Ali said sarcastically. "And we're stuck in here with no weapons, no way to defend ourselves and no way out."
"In other words, we're screwed." Ali bit her lip at Dean's words. They were screwed. And they didn't have a plan.
"The doors in the store are glass, right?" she remembered. "Can't they just smash through them?"
"Nah, those kinda windows would be double thickness. And probably alarmed," Dean said. "Don't want the cops showing up." Ali nodded. Cops would mean more people and with a vengeful spirit wandering around, that meant more bodies.
They fell into silence as they both tried to come up with a plan. Ali couldn't think of anything, and after a few minutes, she grew frustrated. In her annoyance, she kicked on the cubicle door causing it to swing open and bash against the wall. She folded her arms as Dean sent her a look, but she ignored it. As she stared at the dimly lit cubicle, something caught her eye. She walked through the door, pushing the metal door to the side as she looked up above the toilet.
"Dean," she said as she raised her hand to the edge of it, her nail scraping against it. Dean emerged at the entrance to the cubicle, his eyes inquisitive. "Come look at this." Ali stepped aside so Dean could take a look.
"What am I looking at," he asked as he tapped on what looked like a piece of wood.
"It's nailed to the wall," she replied as she stared at it hopefully. "Could be a boarded-up window." Ali quickly rushed from the cubicle and grabbed at a row of five metal poles that made up a shelf above the sink. "Help me with this, would you?" she asked as she tried to pull one of them loose.
"Why?" Dean asked, unsure about her bizarre behaviour.
"Well I don't have a crow bar on me. Do you?" she asked sarcastically. He shot her another look before grabbing the loosest of the poles and yanking it as hard as he could. Eventually he managed to get it free, immediately rushing into the cubicle and smacking the wooden board with it. When he had broken it from the others a piece of metal had snapped off of the side, meaning there was a sharp edge that was advantageous for what they needed to do. He continued to hit the wooden board as much as he could, the wood splintering from the impact of the metal. Eventually, he had made big enough of a hole for him to get his hand inside and rip the wood away with his hands. It looked old and didn't take much force to clear it completely, revealing a small square window. There was already a hole in the glass, the edges cracked. Ali grabbed the pole from Dean, closing her eyes as she sent the pole straight through the window.
"Gimme a leg-up, would you?" she asked as she dropped the pole to the ground.
"No way," Dean said, shaking his head.
"Do you wanna die?" Ali asked incredulously. "I can fit through the window, unlock the door and then we can go gank this thing."
"There's no way I'm letting you out there alone," Dean said with a frown. Ali rolled her eyes.
"Dean, I can do this," she said, looking him straight in the eye. "Trust me?" Dean paused for a moment as he bit his lip, thoughts of all the things that could go wrong swirling around his mind. But this was their only plan, and they had no other way out.
"Okay," he said finally, lacing his hands together to give her a step. Ali climbed up to the window, using her sleeve to wipe away the shards of glass from the sill. She carefully pulled herself through the window, sitting on the edge as she manoeuvred her small frame out into the darkness. Once she was on the outside, she placed her hands on the window ledge and let herself drop to the floor, glass shards crunching under the feet. She glanced down at her stinging hands, the left far worse than the right. The glass shards from the sill had left a deep gash on her palm and she squeezed her fist tight for a moment to try and ease the ache. Realising they might be running out of time, she ripped a piece of her shirt off and wrapped the material around her hand as a makeshift bandage. It stung like hell but she realised she needed to suck it up if she was going to be able to hunt effectively. She ran around to the front of the restrooms and turned the latch on the door before pulling it open, revealing Dean standing ready behind it.
"Let's go get this son-of-a-bitch."
"Whatever you do, don't leave this circle," Sam said as he poured salt out of a bag into a ring around Hannah and her daughter, Emily. The child stood at her mother's feet, her face pressed into the side of her leg as if the fact that she couldn't see anything meant that the monster couldn't see her. Sam hoped that the ring of salt would buy him enough time to get rid of the spirit.
"H-how do you know this will work?" Hannah asked franticly as she clung to her daughter. "What the hell is that thing?"
"We think it's a vengeful spirit, a kind of ghost," Sam explained as he pulled out Dean's gun and checked to see how much ammunition he had. He didn't have his shotgun that was usually filled with rock salt so he shoved the gun back into his jeans and picked up the bag of salt. He would have to improvise.
"How do you know so much about this?" Hannah asked, picking up her child and holding her to keep her safe.
"It's my job," Sam explained.
"So…you hunt ghosts?" she asked with a frown.
"Yeah, and anything else that goes bump in the night." Just then, there was a loud bang, causing both Sam and Hannah to jump back in shock, a small yelp escaping Hannah's lips. "Stay here," Sam instructed as he made his way towards the source of the noise. As he walked, the lights started to flicker more violently. He wasn't sure what his plan was if he came face to face with the thing. Their usual plan when dealing with spirits was to salt and burn the corpse, but they were stuck inside. Even if they could get out, there was no way they would be able to find where whoever it was had been buried. He heard another crash and reached over to a shelf, picking up another bag of salt.
Suddenly, a figure materialised in front of him. The man was pale, the only colour in his face coming from the steady stream of blood that flowed from his mouth. Sam heard Hannah scream as the ghost appeared and Sam yelled back to her to keep inside the circle. The spirit's form flickered, like static on a television, before it sent a force across the store, knocking Sam backwards across the room. He slid back across the lino floor, his spine colliding with the bottom of a shelf. He groaned as he climbed to his feet. The spirit continued to flicker, his body reappearing closer and closer to him.
Sam noticed then that the spirit was wearing a similar uniform to the dead cashier, but the thought didn't have long to register in his mind before he was thrown back again, this time his head smacking against the floor. He struggled to sit up as his vision blurred, the ghost getting closer to him again. It was them that he noticed two figures behind the glass automatic doors. He squinted at them, making out the shapes of Dean and Ali trying to prise the doors open. That gave him an idea. He reached out to his left to grab the bag of salt just as the apparition lunged for him. Sam ripped the bag open, flinging the contents at the monster with as much force as he could muster. As soon as the grains hit its translucent body, it vanished. The younger Winchester glanced over to the doors just as they slid open, Dean and Ali stumbling through them.
Ali spotted Sam's form on the floor and rushed to him whilst Dean escorted the woman and her child out to safety. She grabbed his arm when she met him and yanked him up.
"Sam?" she asked, her face contorted with worry as she snapped her fingers in front of his face. "You good?"
"Yeah," he replied as he climbed to his feet and rubbed the back of his head where it had connected with the hard floor.
"How long do you think we have before it comes back?" Ali asked as she grabbed a bag of salt for herself. Suddenly the lights started to flicker again before they flashed off and the store was plunged into darkness.
"Not long," Sam said. "We need to figure out how to kill this thing."
"How?" Ali asked. "We don't have a clue were the bones are?" Sam thought for a moment, remembering the uniform he had seen the ghost wearing.
"He worked here," Sam said. "Maybe we don't need to burn his bones."
"What? Are you saying we need to burn the whole gas station to the ground?" Ali asked disbelievingly.
"No," Sam said quickly. "Ghosts can be attached to a single object. Like a painting or a mirror."
"So, we just have to work out what object it's attached to?" Ali clarified. Sam nodded. "He was a cashier, right?" she asked as they made their way through the store. Hannah and her child were now safely outside, but the doors had jammed again before Dean made it back inside. "Maybe the cash register?" Ali suggested.
"Right," Sam agreed. "But we can't light it up in here. We need to get it outside."
Ali ran over to the register, dodging the body of the cashier that was still on the ground. She unplugged it as quickly as she could just as the ghostly figure appeared again. She watched as Sam lead it away from her, a bag of salt in his hand. They spirit trailed him as it forced objects to fly across the room. Sam ducked away from the flying groceries as Ali grabbed the register. It was heavy, but the adrenaline was pumping through her veins and giving her extra strength to do what she needed to do. She staggered with it to the door, grabbing a lighter off the shelf on the way. When she had made it, she turned around and signalled to Sam that she was ready. Sam nodded before he launched the salt at the ghost, causing it to temporarily vanish. The doors slid open and she heaved the register through the door.
Dean was waiting on the other side and Ali yelled to him to grab the gasoline from the trunk. She carried the register as fast as she could away from the gas station and let it fall onto the grass as Dean rushed over with the flammable liquid. He quickly unscrewed the lid before drenching the cash register with the contents.
"You wanna do the honours?" Dean asked as he gestured to the ground. Ali looked up at him and let a small smirk tug at her lips. She pulled out the lighter she had taken from the store and flicked it on before dropping it onto the machine. It ignited instantly, orange flames encasing the plastic.
Sam winced as Ali helped him lower himself into the passenger seat of the impala.
"Good call with the cash register by the way," he smiled but it came out as more of a grimace. Ali had told him that he most likely had a concussion and that he should take it easy for a couple of days. She had refrained from chastising him for locking herself and Dean in the bathroom, figuring getting his ass kicked by a vengeful spirit was enough of a punishment.
"Guys?" she heard Dean say. She and Sam looked up to see him jogging over, his thumb pointed over his shoulder. "She's about to call the cops."
"We should take off," Ali suggested, receiving nods from both Winchesters. She slid into the back seat and pulled her belt across, sinking into the soft leather with exhaustion. Ali couldn't help but feel pleased at the memory of watching the object the ghost was attached to going up in flames. It was almost like a rush, a high, and she knew then in that moment that she meant every word she had said to Dean: she was born to do this. She was born to be a hunter.
AN: Hello! So sorry it's been ages since I updated this. Just been super busy recently and haven't had much time to work on this.
Hope you are enjoying the story so far. What has been your fave bit so far and what do you think of Ali as a character in the supernatural world?
Let me know what you thought, much love x
