Ali's arms remained crossed over her chest, her expression a hard, impenetrable mask. The officer eyed her, her stared calculating and quizzical. She wanted nothing more than to know exactly what the blonde teenager before her was thinking.
"You can take a seat," the officer suggested. Ali's eyes flickered to the uncomfortable looking chair behind the metal desk. It didn't look particularly appealing. She remained perfectly still.
"I wanna go," she said, refusing to make eye contact with the policewoman.
"I'm afraid I can't let you go until you start talking."
"I'm talking right now," she quipped with a small smirk. The officer's lips didn't twitch even for a second.
"You didn't have any identification on you when we picked you up from the motel, but we ran your prints," she said, ignoring Ali's comment. Officer Ballard placed her pad of paper on the desk, flicking through the pages to find the information she was looking for. "Allison Venator," she read. "Your name. That's pretty much all we know about you." She picked up the pad and began to pace around the desk, reading allowed the things she had written down. "No school records, no passport, no relatives." Ali shuffled uncomfortably. "The only other record we have is that you filed a missing person's report back in 1999." The officer looked up. "How old were you then?"
"You'd know if you'd read the report," she mumbled, though she knew it was loud enough for the officer to hear. She dropped her pad on the table.
"I know you're a minor," Ballard said seriously. "And you don't have any parents." Ali's teeth gritted together. She didn't like where this conversation was going. "But you've managed to keep out of the system." She thought of Bobby. He'd made sure herself and Tyler didn't end up in care after their parents had died and he'd been even more helpful after her brother had passed away too. He wasn't technically her legal guardian, but that was basically what he was. Just not in the official sense. "How'd you manage that?"
"It's easy not to get tangled up when there aren't any strings," the blonde girl replied, her blue eyes flicking to the officer's.
"No strings?" She raised a brow. "That sounds lonely." Ali snorted quietly.
"I get by." Officer Ballard frowned, her brows knitting together in concern, though Ali was sure she was faking it.
"You don't have any friends? Anyone who looks out for you?" Ali smirked a little in amusement.
"You just arrested both of them." Ali had accompanied both the Winchesters on a hunt in Baltimore, Maryland involving the murder of a lawyer and his wife. Unfortunately, one mishap had led to another and Dean had ended up being caught at the crime scene of the second victim and been arrested. This had resulted in a band of cops raiding the motel room where Sam and Ali had been.
And now, here she was. In an interrogation room. Being interrogated.
"How did you meet the Winchesters?" the officer asked. She was curious at how a young girl could fall into circles with a man like Dean – a man she presumed was a murderer. He'd been linked to several crimes over the last year or so, including several homicides in St Louis. The teenager remained silent. "What exactly is your relationship with them?" Ali almost laughed at what the officer was insinuating.
"Strictly professional," Ali replied a little sarcastically as she bit her lip. She was enjoy watching the officer squirm as she fished for details. "I needed their help. A friend told me where I could find them."
"What kind of help?" the officer asked. Ali could see the cogs turning behind her eyes. They were trying desperately to figure her out, but Ali would never give anything away that she didn't want the officer to know.
"It's a private matter." Ali pushed away from the wall she'd been leaning against and let herself fall into the chair, tucking a leg under herself as she sat. The officer seemed surprised that she'd finally taken the seat, but Ali remained relaxed. Officer Ballard leaned over the desk, her expression feigning concern.
"Miss Venator, you're seventeen years old." Ali wanted to roll her eyes at how patronising she was being. "Dean Winchester is a bad man, and he's – what? – ten years older than you?" Anger boiled a little inside Ali at the mention of Dean. He was one of the most loyal and respected people in her life, and she trusted him without question. "You say he's helping you out, but under what terms? Are they his terms or yours?"
"Are you seriously trying to suggest that I'm with them against my will?" Ali asked incredulously.
"I've seen it before. Kids get taken, they start to rely on their capture and soon they'll do anything they want," she explained. "If that's what's going on here, we can help. There are people you can talk to." Ali didn't supress her snort of amusement as she leaned over the table, her elbows resting on the metal.
"If you're looking for a case of Stockholm syndrome, your barking up the wrong tree," Ali told her. "The only person holding me against my will is you." With that, Ali stood up, walking back over to her wall and crossing her arms over her chest once again.
"I can see behind that carefully constructed mask that you're afraid." Ali looked over to the officer who was folding up her pad of paper. She stopped when she felt the blonde girl's eyes on her and looked up. "If what you say about the Winchesters is true, what exactly are you so scared of, Miss Venator?" Ali was left lost for words at the sudden unexpected turn in the conversation and she had to force herself to keep her mask in place.
"I'm not afraid of anything," she replied bitterly. She was met with a blank stare, the Officer clearly not buying anything she was saying. Ali sighed. "I'm done talking," she said, heading for the door. "Can I go now?" The officer cleared her throat. She reluctantly turned around.
"No," she said simply. "I'm sure my colleague would like to speak with you." Ali narrowed her eyes at the officer.
"You can't hold me here," she argued.
"Actually, I can, for up to forty-eight hours," Officer Ballard explained. Ali scowled.
"What happens after that?" she asked with a raised brow.
"Then I call social services."
The blonde teen huffed in irritation as she rattled the door handle. As she had expected, it wouldn't open, causing her saunter back over to the table in the centre of the questioning room and take a seat at it. She was itching to have a breath of fresh air, the walls of the police station feeling like they were closing in on her with every second. It was only when she found herself locked in a room that Ali realised she might just be a little claustrophobic.
The day had really not gone as she had expected. The case of the dead defence lawyer hadn't been much of a head scratcher at the start, the three of them pretty sure it was a vengeful spirit. But now, Ali wasn't so sure. She hadn't seen Dean since he had left to check on the victim's wife, but she knew he and Sam had a carefully constructed plan for these kinds of situations. They always had a neat little story to tell the cops, and Ali's job was just to keep quiet.
But this was a different matter. This wasn't just a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Ali knew Dean had been suspected of murdering a woman back in St Louis the previous year, along with several other convictions that would surely see him behind bars. Ali knew Dean was good with words, but she wasn't sure how he was going to talk his way out of this one.
Ali's fingers drummed on the table as she thought of her next move. The last few hunts hadn't gone too badly, and after what happened with the vampires, Dean seemed more and more accepting of the idea of Ali coming along. She had noticed something up with him though and she was sure it wasn't only the grief of losing his father that was hanging over him. She had overheard the Winchesters talking in the motel room a few weeks ago when they'd thought she was asleep.
"Dad's dead because of me and that much I do know," Dean had said. Ali didn't catch the rest of the conversation; the brothers had tried to whisper as much as possible. All she knew was that whatever had happened to John Winchester, Dean felt incredibly guilty about it.
The opening of the heavy door made Ali look up from where she had been resting her head on the table. She'd been expecting a man in uniform to enter, the colleague Officer Ballard had been taling about, but instead, a man wearing a brown suit made his way through the door, a brief case in his hand. Ali eyed him with scrutiny.
"Who the hell are you?" she asked boredly. The man looked a little nervous at coming face to face with her glare. Something about that made Ali a little happy.
"I'm Mr Winchester's defence lawyer," the man said with a small friendly smile as if he were talking to a small frightened child. Ali ignored his irritating tone, instead scoffing at his choice of words. She'd never heard anyone refer to Dean as Mr Winchester.
"Dean doesn't need a defence lawyer," she said evenly. "He didn't do anything wrong." She saw it flash across his expression. Pity. Like she was a naïve little girl. Ali couldn't remember a time she had ever been naïve.
"Yes, well even so…" he trailed off. They fell silent for a moment before Ali raised an expectant eyebrow at him.
"Did you want something?" she asked. He looked away quickly, bringing something from his jacket pocket.
"Dean wanted me to give you this," he said, handing her a small piece of paper. Ali stood up and took the note eagerly, frowning when she saw only a small amount of writing on it.
Elvis has left the building.
- F. Morris
Ali rolled her eyes, remembering when Sam and Dean had talked her through all the code words and names they used for emergencies.
"I hope that's meaningful," the lawyer said. Ali smirked. She knew what she had to do.
The night had started to close in as Ali walked down the motel corridor. It hadn't taken her long to find the first one listed in the yellow pages and after asking for Jim Rockford at the check in desk, she knew exactly where to go.
Her fist banged on the door when she reached the right one, but there was no answer, so she tried the handle, causing the door to swing open. Ali stepped inside the motel room, her brow furrowed when there was no sign of the younger Winchester. She remembered Dean's note; Sam should be here.
"Ali." The voice behind her almost made her scream and she whirled around, coming face to face with the man in question. He must've been hiding behind the door to pounce on whoever entered in case they weren't welcome.
"Sam," Ali breathed as she held a hand to her chest.
"Sorry," Sam replied, realising that he must've scared her. "You alright?" Ali nodded, dragging a hand through her tangled blonde hair. It fell messily over her shoulders so she tied it up into a messy bun. "How'd you get out?"
"The window," Ali replied. "You?"
"Same."
"What're we gonna do about Dean?" she asked, a little worried. Sam shook his head.
"It's not the first time he's been in jail," he replied. "He can handle himself." Ali thought that was entirely true. "But he wants us to carry on with the case." Sam held up a piece of paper that had a few sentences written in Dean's messy scrawl.
"Ashland," Ali read. "He says it's a street?" Sam nodded.
"Yeah." This was good. They had more of a lead now. It seemed that at every murder so far, the words Dana Shulps had cropped up, leading the Winchesters to believe that it had something to do with whatever was killing these people. Dean had figured it out. It was in fact an anagram of a street name.
"So are we gonna go-." Ali was cut off by the sound of someone else knocking on the door. The pairs' heads snapped towards the door as the knocking continued. Sam held a finger to his lips, telling Ali to keep quiet as he approached the door. He hesitated for a moment before pulling the door open.
Officer Ballard stood nervously behind the door, her eyes shifting from a confused Sam over to a glaring Ali. After a moment of awkward silence, Sam stepped aside, allowing her in. She explained that she had seen the ghost of a woman in the bathroom at the station, and right after, rings of bruises had showed up on her wrists. Dean had sent her for protection.
"This spirit," Sam started after examining the abrasions. "What did it look like?" The officer shifted nervously.
"She was, um, really pale, and her throat was cut, and her eyes, they were like, this deep dark red?" She took a breath as she tried to remember as much as possible. "It appeared like she was trying to talk to me. But she couldn't. It was just... a lot of blood." Sam nodded.
"I've been researching every girl that's ever died or gone missing from Ashland Street," he explained, leading Officer Ballard over to the table. Ali followed them over too, keeping a wary eye on the officer. "I need you to look through these," he said, handing her a stack of photographs of women. "Tell me if you recognize anyone." Ali watched as Ballard flipped through the papers, stopping on one of a young woman.
"This is her. I'm sure of it," Officer Ballard replied. Ali grabbed the photo from her, reading the notes Sam had made on the back.
"Claire Becker?" she read. "Twenty-eight years old, disappeared about eight or nine months ago."
"But I don't even know her. I mean, why would she come after me?" she asked, her gaze flickering between Ali and Sam.
"Well, before her death, she was arrested twice. For dealing heroin," Ali read, looking up from the notes to raise a brow at the officer. "You ever work narcotics?" Ballard paused a moment, raising her brow back at the teenager who seemed too comfortable with asking these kinds of questions. The idea of a spirit who was killing people didn't even seem to faze her.
"Yeah, Pete and I did," she replied finally. Pete must've been her partner. "Before Homicide."
"You ever bust her?" Sam asked.
"Not that I remember."
"She was last seen entering 2911 Ashland Street. Police searched the place, didn't find anything," Sam continued.
"We should check it out," Ali suggested, her words now directed to Sam. "See if we can find her body." Sam nodded.
"What?" Officer Ballard asked as Sam and Ali began to grab their stuff to get ready to leave.
"We've gotta salt and burn her bones," Sam said grimly. "It's the only way to put her spirit to rest."
"She doesn't like me," Ali said with a frown as she followed Sam through the dark warehouse. They had headed to the address on Ashland Street and come across the old supply store. Now, they'd split up, leaving Officer Ballard to check downstairs whilst Sam and Ali searched upstairs. The younger Winchester smiled a little at the girl's remark.
"Cops and hunters are never great friends anyways," he replied.
"Why?" Ali asked. "Because we don't play by the rules?" Sam shook his head.
"She's just worried about you, Ali," he explained as they crept further into the creepy warehouse. "She thinks you're on the road with two insane people."
"I think she might be right," she muttered. Sam laughed at that. "So what exactly are we looking for?"
"I'll let you know when we find it," Sam replied. Suddenly there was a shout from bellow.
"Sam!" It was Officer Ballard. Sam whipped around, thrusting an iron pole into Ali's grip and running downstairs, beaconing for the younger girl to follow him.
"Hey, I'm here, what is it?" Sam asked when they reached the officer. She looked terrified. Like she'd seen a ghost. "What happened?"
"Claire, she was here," the officer said.
"Did she attack you?" Ali asked, growing a little worried. She held the iron pole tightly in her grip.
"No, she was just like, reaching out to me," Ballard explained. "She was over there by the window." Ali watched as Sam made his way over to the window, showing the shelves aside to reveal a pane of glass where the light was streaming in. The words Ashland Supplies was pasted on the outside, casting a shadow of the word on the opposite wall. Sam pulled out his EMF reader and approached the opposite wall, holding the device up to the shadows.
"What is that?" Ballard asked, staring at the contraption with a furrowed brow.
"Spirits and certain remains give off electromagnetic frequencies," Ali explained. "If Claire's body is here, we'll know." As Sam brought it closer to the wall, it started to buzz, the sound growing louder the closer it got.
"Ali, hand me that pole," Sam asked, reaching out a hand to take it. Ali gave it to him and watched as he began to smash a hole in the wall. Once he had knocked out a big enough hole, he held his flashlight to it so he could look inside. "Yeah, there's definitely something in there."
The blonde girl helped Sam pull what looked like the remains of a person wrapped in a carpet out of the wall cavity and lay it on the ground.
"This is weird, right?" Ali muttered to Sam as they stood up and brushed themselves off. Sam nodded grimly.
"Yeah, I know."
"What's weird?" Ballard asked. Sam sighed.
"I mean, no vengeful spirit I've ever tussled with wanted to be wasted, so why the hell would Claire lead us to her remains?" he said. That was exactly what Ali had been wondering. "It doesn't make any sense."
Ali pulled out her silver knife from her boot and used it to put the ropes that tied the thin carpet together. As Sam pulled back the fabric over the corpses face, she grimaced at the sight. What was left of the woman was just bone, the flesh having decayed away over the time she had been left, undiscovered.
"Her wrists," Sam said, gesturing to the way they were cuffed together. "They'd be bruised just like yours." Ali and Sam watched as Officer Ballard bent down, her hands fingering the pendent that hung around Claire's neck.
"That necklace mean something to you?" Sam asked curiously.
"I've seen it before," she explained. "It's rare. It was custom made over on Carson street." Ali raised a brow, wondering how she could know this. Then she watched as Ballard reached into her neckline and brought out an identical necklace. "I have one just like it," she said. "Pete gave it to me."
"Oh my God," Sam said, running a hand through his messy hair as if everything suddenly made sense. "Claire's not a vengeful spirit," he explained. Ali raised a brow at him. "She's a death omen."
"Excuse me?" Ballard asked.
"Claire's not killing anyone. She's trying to warn them. You see, sometimes spirits, they don't want vengeance, they want justice," Sam explained. "Which is why she led us here in the first place. She wants us to know who her killer is." Ali thought for a second. She's only ever heard of a death omen once before. She hoped Sam knew what he was talking about. "Detective, how much do you know about your partner?" The officer's eyes widened as if she just had a revelation.
"About a year ago, some heroin went missing from lockup. Obviously, it was a cop. We never found out who did it. But whoever did it would need someone to fence their product," she explained. Ali sighed, now understanding exactly what was going on.
"Somebody like Claire."
It was night by the time the three were on the road. Sam sat in passenger seat as Officer Ballard drove, Ali in the backseat as usual. It had taken some convincing from Sam to get the officer to agree to let Ali come along with them, but after much negotiation, it had been clear that the teen was not taking no for an answer.
"What is it?" Ali asked nervously as Ballard finished a call on her cell.
"Pete just left the precinct. With Dean," she relayed.
"What?" Sam asked. Ali clenched a fist around the seat in front of her. She didn't like the idea of Dean being alone with what they now knew was a murderer.
"He said the prisoner had to be transferred, and he just took him," Officer Ballard explained. "Dispatch has been calling but he won't answer the radio."
"Radio? He took a county vehicle?"
"Yeah."
"Well, then they should have a lo-jack, you've just gotta get it turned on."
Sam looked a little pissed as the pair followed Officer Ballard through the woods. He'd wanted Ali to wait in the car, but knowing how stubborn she was, he should have guessed she would completely ignore him. He knew Dean probably wouldn't like it easy. There was no way of knowing how the next few minutes were going to play out, but Sam feared it could get messy.
"Pete! Put the gun down," Sam and Ali heard up ahead, causing them to pick up the pace through the darkness. As they approached and caught sight of the other officer, Sheridan, holding a gun to Dean's head who was kneeling on the ground, Ali hung back at Sam's request, though still edged forward through the dirt. "I know about Claire."
They two officers continued to talk, the conversation emotionally charged, causing Ali to believe something must've been going on between them. If the necklace Ballard had been given by Sheridan wasn't enough evidence, this certainly was.
"It wasn't my fault," Sheridan protested. "Claire was trying to turn me in, I had no choice."
"And Tony? Karen?" Officer Ballard questioned, her own gun pointed at her partner.
"Same thing!" he yelled back. "Tony scrubbed the money, he got skittish, and then he wanted to come clean. I'm sure he told Karen everything." Ali's eyes were fixed on Dean all the while, hoping they would all make it out of this confrontation alive. He caught her eye and bit his lip, obviously annoyed that she was there and in potential danger. Ali stared back at him, her gaze shifting between him and the gun aimed at his head. Dean shook his head at her.
"How many more people are gonna die over this, Pete?" Ballard asked.
"There's a way out," he said. "This Dean kid's a friggin' gift. We could pin the whole thing on him. Right? No trial, nothing. Just, just one more dead scumbag."
"Hey!" Ali yelled in anger as she took a step forward, only for Sam to hold an arm out, gently but forcefully pushing her back.
"No one will question it," he continued. "Diana, please. I still love you." Ali watched in horror as Officer Ballard lowered her gun, her teeth gritting together. "Thank you," he said, turning to Dean as he pressed the gun to the back of his head.
Suddenly, a shot ran through the air, a for a moment, Ali's breathing hitched in her throat, before Sheridan fell to the ground with a groan of pain. Dean rolled out of the way and, sensing the danger had been eradicated, Ali ran to him.
"Hey, are you okay?" she asked when she reached him, grabbing his shoulders to help him up. Dean sent her a half smile as he took a deep breath.
"I've been better," he joked. Suddenly, Sheridan tackled Officer Ballard to the ground; despite the gunshot wound, he was still able to pulled her off her feet, causing her to drop her weapon.
"Get down," Dean muttered to Ali, quiet for authoritative. Dean crouched to his knees and Ali followed as Sheridan grabbed the weapon from the ground and pointed it to his partner.
But as he stared at her, she only looked past him, her eyes fixing on a ghostly figure that had just materialised behind him. It was Claire. Sheridan turned around, coming face to face with the death omen, his terror distracting him enough for Ballard to grab the gun from his hand and shoot him in the back. He fell to the ground in a crumpled heap.
Come the next evening, Ali and the Winchester brothers were already out of the state, as instructed by Officer Ballard who had let them go. Since Sheridan was dead, they concluded that Claire would be at peace, meaning the case was over and they could lead. She'd said she could get their cases dismissed for them, but she had no guarantees about the old case back in St Louis. They'd agreed that they were all free to walk away and that she would tell the rest of her team that the suspects escaped. They'd all been very grateful for her help, but they'd needed to leave right away. The cops would still be after them.
Now, the three of them were hauled up in a motel room. There'd only been one spare so Sam had agreed to sleep on the couch for the night. As he lay in the dimly lit room, her found his thoughts drifting to the two others in the room.
First, he thought about Dean. His big brother. The guy that had always looked out for him. He knew something was going on with him, he'd known for a while. And it wasn't just the guilt he felt over their father's deaths that seemed to be bothering him.
Next, the younger Winchester's thoughts drifted to the girl in the other queen-sized bed. He and Dean had met her roughly eight months ago, when she had sort them out for help with a hunt. From there, it seemed he and his brother's mutual attachment to her had grown. Even so, Sam still found Allison Venator to be somewhat of a mystery.
Sam didn't know much about her parents even. He wasn't sure Dean knew much about the hunters either. All they really knew was that they had died when Ali was very young and that, from the fact that she rarely mentioned them, it was hard for her to talk about.
Sam understood that. From watching Dean deal with their father's death mostly. He didn't want to talk about it and if Ali was anything like Dean, which Sam had come to think she was, they reacted in a similar way to grief. However, it had been a long time since Ali had lost her parents so Sam wondered how she would react if he ever brought them up.
He'd always thought it strange though. Ali talked about Tyler fairly often. He could see o her eyes whenever she mentioned her brother that hid death caused her pain. But she still spoke of him. It was almost like that was her way of keeping him alive – of holding onto his memory for as long as she could. Sam wondered why she didn't speak of her parents in the same was. Maybe it was because she had been so much younger when they had passed.
As he lay in the silent dimness of the motel room, the younger Winchester recalled the only time he'd ever heard Bobby talk about Ali's parents. Sam had caught him in his study, the older hunter's eyed fixed on photograph of Ali and her brother. It was the same one Ali carried with her.
"Cute kids, huh?" Bobby had said when he'd noticed Sam's presence. Sam, who had been lingering at the door, stepper into the compact room, his gaze on the older man. It was clear how much the two kids in the photo meant to the hunter. As he regarded the young boy in the picture, Sam could see the pain in Bobby's eyes.
"You can tell their related," Sam had said softly, causing a small smile to form on Bobby's lips. They both had the same fair hair, along with the sapphire blue eyes.
"They get that from their dad," Bobby had said as if reading Sam's thoughts. "The guy must've been a real heart breaker." The younger Winchester laughed at that.
"What was he like?" Sam had asked, growing more interested as the conversation went on. This was the first real time anyone had mentioned either of Ali's parents.
"He was smart, and a damn good hunter." Sam could see something light up in the older man's eyes as he spoke of his fallen friend. "I mean, sure, he could get too caught up in the job sometimes, but what hunter doesn't?" Sam had to agree with that. "And he loved his family – a lot like your father in that respect. But he had this way about him," Bobby continued. "He always seemed calm like he had everything under control. In all the years I knew him, I don't think I ever saw him lose his temper at anyone."
"Wow," Sam had said, a little surprised. "Knowing Ali, I never would've thought her Dad would be like that." Bobby let out a bard of laughter.
"Yeah well, that attitude of Al's?" Sam nodded. "That's all her mother."
Sam couldn't help but smile as he remembered Bobby's words about Ali's parents. He'd found himself conjuring up images of their family when it was the four of them: mother and father with their fair-haired, blue-eye son and daughter. Sam bet that for a time, they'd seemed like the perfect family. That was, until, something had torn them apart, leaving Ali as the only one left.
The younger Winchester looked up from the couch at the sound of the bed creaking. The blonde teen moved under the covers, indicating that she'd not fallen asleep yet. Sam turned his attention to Dean who was sleeping soundlessly.
"Can't sleep?" a voice whispered from under Ali's duvet. The girl rolled onto her back and sat up, propping herself up on her hands. Sam's eyes snapped back to her. She must've noticed him.
"No, I was just…" he trailed off as he matched her hushed volume, trying to wake Dean. He knew his brother needed his rest.
"How's the couch?" Ali asked, pushing the covers off of her and turning 180 degrees so her head was at the foot of the bed, nearer to Sam. She turned onto her back so she was staring at the ceiling, though she'd still be able to hear the younger Winchester if he wanted to talk. She could sense that something was on his mind.
"I've slept on worse." Ali let out a breath of laughter. The was a moment of silence and Ali thought she might've been wrong about Sam wanting to talk. But then she heard him clear his throat. "Can I ask you something?" Ali pulled the covers over her in her new position, her vision drawing imaginary lines on the ceiling, something she was sure Sam was doing too.
"Shoot," she replied. Sam took a breath, remembering Bobby's words: he loved his family – a lot like your father in that respect.
"How'd your parents die?" The question was quiet and was met with a stony silence. Sam thought for a second he might have stepped over the line, and he quickly apologised.
"No, it's okay" Ali said when he said sorry. "I just wasn't expecting it." She bit her lip, her eyes falling shut. "They were killed in a car crash." When Sam didn't say anything, Ali took it as a cue to carry on. "It was stupid really. A waste. But these things happen."
"Were you...?" Sam trailed off.
"No. But Tyler was. He saw the whole thing," she explained. The way she spoke made it sound like she was far away, lost in the memories of her childhood. But also her choice of words: he saw the whole thing. To Sam it made it sound like he was merely a spectator.
"I'm sorry," Sam said as he stared at the greying ceiling tiles.
"It was a long time ago," Ali whispered, as if that somehow meant Sam didn't need to show her empathy.
"I'm still sorry," he said. Ali shifted on the mattress to get into a more comfortable position.
"I know," she replied. "I'm sorry too. About John." Sam felt grief twist in his stomach. "I know you had your differences, but you loved him. I think he'd be proud of you."
Sam considered Ali's words. Sometimes, he couldn't believe that she was only seventeen years old. She had seen so much in her short number of years, much like he and Dean had. Then he considered her parents. They were hunters, great ones at that. Every hunter who was worth anything had heard of the Venators, and now that they were mostly gone, it was up to Ali to carry on what was left of her family's legacy. And from what Sam had seen of the younger hunter so far, Ali was doing a pretty good job.
So, instead of offering more words of comfort or probing her for more information about her family, he said the one thing he hoped would give her strength to keep fighting: "I think you parents would be proud of you too."
AN: Finally I updated this! Sorry its been a while but I've been super busy recently. Will try to update this as often as possible.
Hope you liked this chapter where you get to see a little more into Ali's family/past. Much more to come!
Let me know what you thought, much love x
