AUTHOR'S NOTES: I threw in some history regarding Stella and what eventually kicked off Kelly's life as a hunter. Next chapter will meld with the 'Supernatural' episode Weekend at Bobby's. You'll see why later in this chapter.

Read, review, and enjoy y'all!

Chapter 5

A History of Hunters

Stella Monroe

The Monroe Family Rule was simple: You're a hunter. Period.

Ever since the first hunters came to America on the Mayflower the Monroe family had been deeply entrenched in the war against the supernatural.

Over the years, however, the rule was ever so slightly relaxed, allowing one of the most famous hunters to make a name for himself. Even those deepest in the network of hunters didn't quite believe that Benjamin Franklin himself was once a demon hunter.

x

When Stella was only 5 years old, her father taught her how to safely handle a knife. Two years later she learned how to shoot.

For years, she'd watch her father drive away to somewhere from the driveway, waving good-bye as her two older brothers (Kyle being 5 years older than her and Jeff being 8 years older) stood nearby with their mother who held Stella's baby brother, Tommy, who couldn't wait until he was 'big enough to hunt monsters with Daddy'.

x

As Stella grew up and started to learn the family business, she also learned that although being a hunter was a given, how you approached that calling was a variable. Stella's uncle, Jonathan, had a permanent injury to his knee after one bad fight with a vampire. Since he wasn't as swift in a fight anymore, he'd fallen back on his other talent: car repair and maintenance. He'd rationalized that it was hard for hunters to find places to take their vehicles that worked pro bono and didn't mind finding weaponry all over.

Stella's mother, Heather, had opened the diner stating that everyone had to eat. If she knew any hunters coming in, she'd comp their meals or at the very least make sure they had cups of coffee and a couple muffins to go.

Laura Monroe, Stella's sister, had been absolutely dreadful when it came to weapons training and when she'd turned 18 she'd started working the finances for the diner and auto shop while also helping any hunters passing through with research and information on the local goings on.

x

The worst day of Stella's life happened when she'd just turned 25. She and Tommy—then 18—had been out in the woods of Virginia hunting what they believed to be a werewolf. When the beast attacked suddenly, catching them both off guard, Tommy had drawn the werewolf off, allowing Stella to get away. By the time she'd wrangled her father and brothers, Tommy had been killed.

The death had caused a rift between Stella and her family. Stella's brothers blamed her for not doing a better job of having Tommy's back. Stella blamed her father for just sending the two of them out alone without verifying what the monster was. After her brother's death, Stella moved out of the family home and into her sister's place for almost a year. Once the dust had settled, so to speak, Stella'd had a sit-down with her father, declaring her retirement from hunting.

And although even now she still had her ear to the ground with the hunter community, she made it clear to her family on a regular basis that she was out of the business itself.

Until she met Sam Winchester.

Working in the auto shop one day, Stella had looked up when she heard the rumbling engine and seeing the '67 Impala pull into the repair bay, she couldn't help smiling. It was a car she dreamed of and when the guy driving tried to explain the problem, she'd even laughed at how hopeless he'd been.

Finding out that Sam was a hunter, talking about things while she worked on the car, Stella had started to feel some knot deep inside her start to unwind. When Sam finally drove away a few days later, she'd made him promise to keep in touch.

When Tommy had come back, Stella had assumed her brother would jump right back into hunting with the family but instead, he'd completely abandoned hunting and enrolled at a local art school.

And things only seemed to get stranger…

Kelly Gibbs

At first, right after the accident, Shannon had been sure that Kelly would wake up. But as days turned to weeks and months, Shannon had begun to feel an increasing sense of desperation. She had to save her little girl. As she watched Jethro hold Kelly's hand, Shannon wished that there was something—anything—to bring Kelly out of the coma.

"Mrs. Gibbs."

Shannon turned to see a man with thinning black hair and a shrewd look standing behind her. Wiping away the tears in her eyes, she studied the man carefully. "Yes?"

The man smiled which did nothing to make him more appealing. On the contrary, when he smiled he seemed almost too eager. Like a wolf or a tiger circling prey. He held out a hand and when Shannon reluctantly shook it, he spoke in a cultured English accent, "Name's Crowley. Maybe we should find someplace quiet to talk."

Shannon wasn't sure what happened next. One second she was standing outside her daughter's hospital room and the next she was standing in the middle of nowhere in the middle of two intersecting dirt roads. "Where are we?" she asked Crowley. "And who—what—are you?"

"As I believe I mentioned before," Crowley replied, sounding a bit annoyed. "My name's Crowley. As for 'what', well… that's not important." Sticking his hands in his pockets, he walked around Shannon, almost drinking in the despair she gave off. This one would be just too easy. When he was facing her again, he went on. "What is important is what I can do for you." Seeing the look of confusion on the woman's face, Crowley smiled. "I can fix your little girl up, good as new." He purposely hesitated for a moment before adding, "For a price."

Shannon wasn't about to believe this and she took a few steps back from Crowley but when she thought of Kelly, she stopped. "You can bring Kelly back?"

"I'll even give you 10 years with her before I collect my fee," Crowley replied. "Give you a chance to watch your kid grow up. What do you say?"

"What do I have to do?" Shannon asked, not sure what exactly she was getting into. But it didn't matter. Kelly was more important than anything else in the world to her. And Jethro would never get over it if their daughter died.

Crowley smiled again as he walked right up to Shannon and without warning, kissed her to seal the crossroads deal. Desperate parents were almost no fun. There was hardly any working or convincing required. When he stepped back and turned to leave, he turned back and, as an afterthought, asked, "By the way… You're not afraid of dogs are you?"

Shannon frowned at the odd question and shook her head. "No. Why?"

"No reason. Just curious," Crowley replied with a grin. "And don't worry. Your little girl will be fine by the time you get back."

And before Shannon knew what had happened, she was back in the hospital. Looking into Kelly's room, she saw that she was sitting up and hugging her father.

x

Ten years later, Shannon would quickly tell her daughter what she had done before hellhounds attacked. She would make Kelly swear to hunt down the demon Crowley and kill him.

It was a promise that would make Kelly into a hunter.

Ziva David

Almost everyone knew Ziva David as the Mossad officer working with NCIS. That her father had raised her to be a soldier from childhood.

But as Ziva walked up to the handsome guy in his late 20's at the bar, she knew that no one would ever guess the real reason for her upbringing. Sitting down next to Dean Winchester, Ziva waited until he turned to her before giving him a smile.

"Agent David," Dean said in greeting as he flagged down the bartender. Turning to the young woman behind the bar, he said, "Round for the lady, please."

Ziva smiled at the bartender. "Mojito, Heidi," she said with a smile. Looking at Dean, she asked, "Where is your brother?"

"Not sure," Dean replied, taking a swig of his beer. "Look, I know we didn't get to introductions earlier," Dean said as he swiveled his barstool around to look at Ziva.

"Actually, I already knew who you were, Dean," Ziva interrupted, turning to him.

"Okay," Dean said, giving her a smile. "I'll bite. How'd you know who I was?"

"My mother—" Ziva broke off when Heidi placed a glass in front of her. Once the bartender moved away, Ziva resumed talking in a low voice. "My mother was a hunter."

"Mine, too," Dean replied. And in the back of his mind, a question was popping up. Was everyone in this town either a hunter or a demon? "My mom's from a family of hunters. Dad became one after she died."

Ziva nodded in understanding. "When my father found out, he decided that I would be perfect for Mossad."

"Mossad?" Dean asked, not quite sure what Ziva was talking about.

Ziva thought for a moment and then replied, "Israeli version of the American CIA. My father is the Director."

"So what are you doing here in DC?" Dean wanted to know. Finishing off his beer, he ordered another and waited for Ziva to continue her story.

But Ziva was quiet as she sipped her drink, thinking of how to tell her tale. "My half-brother, Ari, killed one of Gibbs' agents. I was sent to… to kill Ari."

"I can relate," Dean said, mostly to himself as he took a long drink of his beer, thinking of the mess with Michael and Lucifer.

Ziva started to argue that Dean couldn't possibly understand but when her eyes met his, she could see that Dean knew all too well about losing family. "It's been hard," she went on. "I keep asking myself if there had been a way to save my brother, but I know that there wasn't."

"So do you see your dad much anymore?" Dean asked, curious. There was something in the way she spoke about her family that made her doubt that she did.

And there it was. The subject Ziva tried to avoid lately. She hated talking about her father because every time she thought about Eli David, the emotional scars and pain of his betrayals and manipulations came back up to the surface. "No," Ziva replied, simply. "But we did not exactly part on the best of terms."

"I hear that," Dean replied, thinking of the last time he'd seen his father alive. "My dad… he, uh… raised me and Sam to be hunters. But all my mom wanted was for us to lead normal lives."

"My mother wanted the same for me," Ziva replied, flagging down Heidi for a second mojito. "Sometimes I hate my father for what he turned me into."

"Don't hate him," Dean said, quickly, giving Ziva a look. When she looked questioningly at him, Dean let out a long sigh. "My dad's dead. And there's some awful things I said to him and about him that I can never take back. And there's even more stuff I wish I had said that I'll never get a chance to. Don't do that to yourself. Because it'll just eat away at you."

Ziva's gaze hardened a bit as she stared Dean down. "You do not have any idea what I've been through with my father. What has happened to me because I trusted him."

"Torture?" Dean suggested quietly, not backing down. "Been there, done that. Literally. And I've done the wrong thing more damn times than I can count. I know what it's like not having a father you can depend on, believe me." His gaze softened as he thought of Cass, Sam, and Bobby. "But I also know that family doesn't end with blood."

That made Ziva pause and as she took in Dean's words, she knew he was right. Director Sheppard had always been a mentor and surrogate mother to Ziva. McGee and DiNozzo were her best friends—almost brothers, really. Abby and Kelly had come to be like her sisters, each of them reminding her of Tali in their own separate ways.

And then there was Gibbs. Every time she thought about a father figure her mind turned immediately to Gibbs. Even when she'd first started working with him, she saw a devotion and loyalty that seemed almost unreal but through the years Ziva had come to learn that Tony, McGee, Abby, and Ducky would do anything for Gibbs because Gibbs would do anything for them.

As they finished off their drinks and ordered another round, Ziva and Dean fell into a comfortable silence. Dean had turned away from Ziva as his emotional baggage gave way to the feelings he'd had when he first saw Ziva. He was lonely. He missed Lisa and the last thing he wanted to do was cheat on her…

"Hey, can I get a couple beers?"

The familiar voice jarred Dean out of his thoughts and he looked over at the woman who spoke, doing a double-take when he saw who it was. "Ellen?"

Ellen Harvelle stopped and turned to Dean, disbelief in her eyes. "Oh, my God."

"Nice to see you, too—OW!" Dean nearly fell off the barstool when Ellen's punch landed and while pinching his bleeding nose with one hand, he held up the other to stave off the other people gathering around. "It's okay! It's okay, she's a friend."

Thankfully, Ziva had slipped off her own barstool and pulled out her badge. "NCIS," she said, looking around at everyone else. "Everything's under control." Looking at Ellen and Dean, she added, "Perhaps we should take this elsewhere, yes?"

Sitting in a dingy hotel room, an icepack to his face, Dean just stared at Ellen and her daughter, Jo. Ziva stood nearby, watching Dean. "So the two of you are back, too?" Dean asked, surprised.

"Yeah," Ellen replied, simply, pouring a shot of whiskey for herself and Dean. After handing him the glass, she went on. "Checked in with Bobby. He told us about Sam, but…"

"What?" Dean asked, confused.

"Jo and I got out of town for a while," Ellen replied, sitting on the edge of the bed closest to Dean. "Jo wanted to find you, find Sam… But I was just so damn grateful we were alive, we just headed out."

"Mom even took me shopping," Jo added with a grin. "It was wild."

"Shopping?" Dean asked, looking from Ellen to Jo. "Like… clothes and all that crap?"

"Hey, we stopped at a gun and knife show on the way here," Ellen replied, smacking Dean lightly on the leg. "Wasn't all clothes, makeup, and stuff."

"So the two of you were dead?" Ziva asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Hellhound," Jo replied, succinctly, feeling an unconscious shiver at the memory.

"Explosion," Ellen added. "Sorry about the punch, by the way. Just letting off some steam about the getting killed thing."

Dean shrugged. "Don't sweat it." After he tossed back his drink and reapplied the icepack to his nose—thankfully not broken—he smiled at the ladies in the room. "I had a dream like this once… except you gals are supposed to be naked." Ellen reached over and smacked Dean on the back of the head while Jo punched him hard in the shoulder. Looking over at Ziva, he frowned slightly. "You're not going to hit me, too?"

Ziva had a sly smile on her face as she replied, "I think you have done enough bleeding tonight. Don't you?"