If there was one thing that the people closest to Allison Venator associated her with the most, it was her anklet. Most who knew her, including the Winchester's, had never seen her without it. Ali didn't even take it off to shower. The delicate piece of jewellery that hung around her left ankle was intricately designed, the tiny chain loops drooping delicately between the unusual gems. When she had first got the unique piece of jewellery, she hadn't thought it was anything more significant than just that. A piece of jewellery. She was only six at the time when it had fallen into her possession. Later on, when she and Tyler had stayed with Bobby for a weekend, he had informed her of its true significance.

"Is that black tourmaline?" Sam had asked when he had first noticed it a few weeks after she had met him. He had seemed very interested in it at the time and had probed her with questions about when and where she had acquired it.

"Bobby said it's for protection," Ali had told Sam. "But he didn't say what against."

"Well some people think it protects against black magic," Sam had informed her as he punched at the keys on his computer, pulling up numerous web pages to show her. "But it's more associated with positivity and protecting the mind. Like helping with stress and anxiety." She had considered his words for a short while before deciding that if that was what it was meant to do, it didn't really work. Her life hadn't exactly been stress – free and anyone you asked were certainly not say she was known for her positivity.

Of course, its real worth to Ali wasn't measured in what special powers it had, but in sentimental value. Her mother had brought it back from a trip to Shri Lanka many years before when she and her father had gone on a hunt there. Ali's parents had left her and her brother at Bobby's house for just under a week. She remembered when they had returned and she had run to her mother, hugging her legs before her father picked her up in his arms and she buried her face into his shoulder as she told him sternly not to go away again.

"You didn't have fun at Uncle Bobby's?" her father had asked as he tickled her side. She squealed with laughter until he stopped and then pouted at him.

"Tyler wouldn't let me have a go with his rifle," she whined. "He said I'm too little." Her father laughed.

"Well that's ridiculous," he had said, humouring her though he, of course, agreed with his son. "But you know what, baby? When you're a little older and can actually hold a rifle, I'll teach you how to shoot it myself." The little blonde girl had thought for a moment, her brow furrowed.

"I'm six next week. Will that be old enough?" her big blue eyes had stared up at him hopefully. He laughed, ruffling her curls as he placed her on the ground.

"We'll see, baby," he had replied. "Where's your brother?"

"In the yard with Bobby," she had told him as she traced the outline of his pockets on his jacket. He'd smiled at her again, patting her on the shoulder before he left to find his eldest child.

"Honey, come here a minute," her mother had said, beaconing her over towards the couch. Ali had followed her over, perching herself on the edge of the seat, her feet still unable to touch the ground. "I got something for you." Her mother had pulled out a small black box, telling her it was supposed to be for her birthday, but she thought she could have it a few days early. Inside the box was the anklet.

For the first few years it had hung low on the ankle, making it a little uncomfortable for her to wear. But, as she matured, it had become almost a part of her – something she felt naked without. Ali wasn't sure of the last time she had taken it off.

She sat on the couch at Bobby's place as she absentmindedly fingered the silvery links. It had been over ten years since her mother had given it to her. It was one of the few early memories she had of her parents. Of course, the memory of their death was another thing at the forefront of her mind, especially after the events of the last week. The death of John Winchester had churned up long since buried feelings about her own parents. It didn't help that it was coming up the anniversary of their death. It was hard for her every year around this time but this year was proving particularly draining. John's death wasn't the only reason. The other was that it wasn't just the anniversary of her parent's death; it was the ten-year anniversary.

Ten years. Ali found it hard to believe it had really been that long. It was over half her lifetime. Sometimes it seemed like yesterday that her parents had been alive, that she had had a family, but other times, she felt the weight of the ten years dragging on her.

And that was why she knew she needed to be there for Sam and Dean. Although their situations were very different, the underlying feeling of sudden loneliness and confusion would be the same. Ali wasn't sure what she would say if one of the Winchesters asked her if, after ten years, the pain had had subsided. She predicted if either of them were to ask, it would be Sam. Dean wasn't one for sharing his feelings – nor was Ali for that matter – but if Sam needed an answer, she would tell him that everything gets better with time, a standard, cop-out answer that Sam wouldn't buy one bit.

But what could she tell him? That yeah, losing parents sucked? Yeah, you're probably gonna be living with a gaping hole for the rest of your life? That you'll feel guilty for most of it? And yeah, no amount of hunting, drinking, eating or sex was going to help? That wasn't the answer Sam would be looking for either, but Ali wouldn't be able to give him what he wanted. All she could do was to tend to the open wound and make life just a little bit more bearable for both the Winchester boys

Because Ali had learnt after ten years of loss and denial and guilt that the old cliché that time heals all wounds, was crap.

"Here," Ali said as she placed the plate on the table in front of the younger Winchester. He looked up from his reading in surprise and smiled gratefully at her.

"Thanks," he replied, resting the book down and taking a bite of the sandwich. It had only been a few days since they had burnt John's body – they being Sam and Dean since Ali hadn't felt it was appropriate for her to be there too. Since then, Ali had spent most of her time running errands for Bobby or preparing meals. Having the four of them in the house together had been strange for Ali, finding it hard to get a moment to herself. Sam spent most of his time in the lounge or the kitchen, meaning the only space Ali had to herself was in her room, which, to her surprise, she had been spending less and less time in. In fact, she found she didn't mind the younger Winchester's constant presence. Bobby had been out a fair bit recently and Dean spent all him time in the yard working on the impala and not dealing with his feelings. This meant that if it weren't for Sam, she would find herself slowing sinking into a pit of loneliness with nothing to do.

She had found she had been playing a waiting game since John died. Waiting for Dean to snap out of his spiral of guilt and denial. Waiting for Sam to confront Dean about it. She was tired of waiting, or maybe she was just tired. All she knew was that she couldn't push it. She was trying give the boys what they needed, which initially she thought was space. But as it turned out, Sam didn't need or want space and no matter how much space any of them gave Dean, he would still accuse them of breathing down his throat.

Ali grabbed her own plate from the counter and put it on the table opposite Sam. She had already taken one through to Bobby and only one remained on the counter untouched. That was for Dean. For the last two days, she had taken it out to him and he hadn't touched it. She figured that by today, he would be getting hungry. Even so, she would leave it on the side in the hopes he would come in the house. She knew that hoping he would sit down with her and Sam was just wishful thinking, but at the least, she hoped he might be in the same room as them for more than thirty seconds.

She sat down across from Sam, pulling the book he had been reading over the table towards her so she could read it as she took a bite of her lunch.

"Celtic Lore: Deities of the Iron Age," she read from the front cover, her eyes shifting up to Sam with a raised brow. It was the first book she had seen him with that didn't have the word 'Demon' in the title. Sam shot her an unamused look, pulling the book back away from him.

"Never hurts to be brushed up on your lore," Sam commented, opening up the book to where he got to with one hand whist he held his sandwich in the other. Ali narrowed her eyes at him.

"You think I don't know my lore?" she asked. Sam rolled his eyes.

"I think you can always know more," he replied. "I'm mean, you won't know it if you don't study."

"I do study," Ali said, her brow furrowed. Sam looked up, trying to supress an amused smile at how defensive she was getting.

"Oh yeah? So how would you identify a wraith?" Sam asked.

"Mirror," Ali said quickly. Sam chuckled to himself – she had taken the bait like he always knew she would.

"And how do you kill a werewolf?" he asked again.

"Silver," Ali replied.

"Changeling?"

"Fire."

"Banshee?"

"Gold."

"Kitsune?"

"Stab it or starve it." Ali finished with a small smirk, feeling like she had proven her point to Sam. He chuckled back at her a little.

"And, uh, how would you stop a reaper?" Sam asked. Ali paused, her mind racing back to the hospital when Dean had been in a comber. Back when they thought he was going to die. Back when John was alive…

"Trick question," Ali replied, pushing her memories down and sending Sam a smirk. This was the most upbeat she'd seen him all week. "You can't kill death." Sam shook his head, a small smile on his lips.

"Are we playing twenty questions?" The voice came from the doorway and both Ali and Sam looked up in surprise to see Dean at the entrance to the room. Ali had barely heard his voice since his father had passed, Dean just grunting in response to her questions.

"Dean," she said, still a little in shock at his appearance. She watched his eyes as they glanced over her and Sam's half eaten sandwiches. Her plan had worked. "There's some lunch for you on the side." Dean nodded and she sent him a small smile as he walked over to the counter and picked up the plate.

"Thanks," he grunted. Ali watched him pause and she silently hoped that he would pull out a chair and join her and Sam at the table. After what seemed like a quick internal debate in Dean's mind, he left the room, no doubt taking his lunch outside so that he could continue to work on the impala.

Ali sighed, taking another bite of her sandwich. One step at a time.

A few days later, Ali caught Sam and Dean in the lounge stuffing things into duffle bags. She frowned, not only at the sight of them together but at the fact that they seemed to be packing. She cleared her throat, folding her arms across her chest. The two Winchesters stopped what they were doing and looked up at her. She raised an eyebrow at them.

"Going somewhere?"

"We think we might have a lead on the demon," Sam said, going back to packing. Ali's eyes widened.

"Okay," Ali said, a little taken aback. Wasn't this supposed to be good news? The brothers didn't look as ecstatic about it as she had expected. "What's the lead?" She watched as Dean pulled out a phone and pressed a few buttons on it before tossing it in her direction. It caught her off guard a little but she managed to catch it and press the phone to her ear.

"John, it's Ellen. Again. Look, don't be stubborn, you know I can help you. Call me."

Ali frowned, instantly recognising the voice, though she hadn't heard it in years.

"So, you know who this is?" Ali asked.

"No," Dean replied. "But Sam ran a trace and we've got an address. Somewhere in -."

"Nebraska," Ali filled in for him, rolling her eyes a little. The Winchesters looked up at her. "Harvelle's roadhouse, I know where it is."

"You've been there before?" Sam asked sceptically.

"Yeah. I did have a life before I met the two of you," she deadpanned. Dean shot her a look. "Borrow a car from Bobby. You can follow me there."

"Follow you?" Sam asked, raising and brow at the blonde girl. Ali smirked.

"Just because I don't have a license, doesn't mean I don't know how to drive." With that, Ali grabbed a set of keys from the table and headed outside. She knew she could've driven with Sam and Dean but she knew they needed some time alone to talk. With her not there, they didn't have an excuse not to.

"This is humiliating," Dean exclaimed as they pulled up behind Ali in an old minivan. "I feel like a friggin' soccer mom!"

"It's the only car Bobby had running," Sam defended, climbing out of the passenger side and making his way towards the roadhouse.

Ali climbed out of the old, beat up Toyota corolla and looked up at the Roadhouse, memories of the last time she had been there flashing before her eyes. The place looked more dishevelled than she remembered and there didn't seem to be any lights on inside. It must have been closed.

"Ali, why don't you sit tight, me and Sam will check it out," Dean said, casting Ali a look before making his way towards the building.

"I've been here before, Dean. It's fine," Ali assured him, but Dean didn't seem in the mood for negotiations.

"Look, Ali, you said it yourself, you haven't been here in years," Dean said. "I'd feel better if you waited out here." She wanted to protest, but she knew Dean was fragile right now. They all were. She nodded with a sigh, pulling open the car door and hopping back in to the driver's seat.

She didn't watch as Sam and Dean entered the Roadhouse, instead, trying to recall the last time she had been here. After herself and Tyler had left Bobby's place to go off on their own they had found themselves at Harvelle's on many occasions. Ellen had seemed to have taken a particular interest in both of them, probably considering they were so young and that she had once been close to both their parents. In fact, her husband had hunted a few times with the couple before he had passed. Ali was also pretty sure that Ellen's daughter had once had a crush on her brother, though they had been very close friends.

Ali would occasionally stay with Ellen and her daughter Jo by herself for a few days if Tyler had a particularly difficult case. Although he was young at the time to be going hunting by himself, he was only around eighteen years old, Ellen let him go. She knew he was a very talented hunter and if his last name wasn't enough evidence for that, the time she saw him single handily take down a rugaru certainly was.

The blonde girl sighed as she fiddled with the small piece of jewellery around her ankle. She was still tired of waiting around. Tired of waiting for hunters. Tired of waiting for people who thought she couldn't handle the big wide world of the supernatural just because of her age. With a huff, she pushed open her door and stalked across the dusty drive towards the roadhouse. She took a deep breath before she entered, pushing the door open and entering the saloon.

"Woah," she said as she took a step inside, catching sight of the barrel of a gun that had shifted its aim from Dean to her.

"Dammit," Dean mumbled under his breath, sending the girl a harsh glare.

"What's wrong with your face?" Ali asked, noticing how Dean was clutching his nose. He didn't respond, turning away so he could keep an eye on the girl with the gun.

"Sam! Need some help in here," Dean yelled to the other room. A door opened across the bar and Sam emerged, both hands on his head.

"Sorry, Dean, I can't right now," he said, walking in slowly, revealing an older woman behind him who was pressing a pistol to his head. "I'm a little tied up." Ali shifted her eyes towards the older woman, the corner of her mouth twitching up in a small smile.

"Sam? Dean?" she asked, looking between the two brothers. "Winchester?"

"Yeah," they replied together.

"Mom, you know these guys?" the younger one asked, lowering her weapon when she saw her mother do the same.

"Yeah, I think these are John Winchester's boys," she replied. "I'm Ellen. This is my daughter Jo." Ellen nodded towards her daughter as she introduced her.

"I think you already know our shadow over there," Dean said, nodding in Ali's direction who had remained silent throughout the whole exchange.

"Son of a bitch," Ellen said as her eyes scanned over Ali's form, her expression astonished and surprisingly happy. "Little Ali Venator," she said, releasing a sincere laugh and beaconing her over for a hug. Although Ali wasn't too fond of the adjective she couldn't help but smile in return. "I haven't seen you since you were ten years old."

"It's good to see you again," Ali replied as Ellen squeezed her arm in a side hug. She felt strangely sentimental at being back at the Roadhouse.

"You called our dad, said you could help," Dean interjected, wanting to get back on the topic of the phone message. "Help with what?"

"Well, the demon, of course," Ellen replied. "I heard he was closing in on it."

"What, was there an article in the Demon Hunters Quarterly that I missed?" Dean asked sarcastically. "I mean, who are you? How do you know about all this?"

"Hey, I just run a saloon," Ellen replied defensively. "But hunters have been known to pass through now and again. Including your Dad, a long time ago," Ellen said. And Ali and Tyler. "John was like family once."

"So why exactly do we need your help?" Dean asked.

"If you don't want my help, fine. But John wouldn't have sent you if…" Ellen trailed off, her expression changing to realisation. "He didn't send you," she said, thinking out loud. "He's all right, isn't he?" Ali shifted uncomfortably on her feet as she cast her eyes over to Dean. He caught her eye before looking over to Sam.

"No, he isn't," Sam said, clearing his throat. "It was the demon, we think. It, um, it just got him before he got it, I guess."

"I'm so sorry," Ellen said, her brow furrowing at the boys.

"It's okay. We're all right," Dean assured. Ali wasn't convinced that Ellen had bought it.

"If you can help, we could use all the help we can get," Sam said.

"Well, we can't," Ellen replied. "But Ash will." They all shot her questioning looks, including Ali who didn't think she knew an Ash. "Ash!" Ellen called, causing a passed-out man on the bar to jerk up in shock, suddenly awake. Ali jumped back a little, not having realised there was anyone there.

"What? It closing time?" the man, Ash, asked confusedly.

"That's Ash?" Sam asked disbelievingly.

"Mm-hmm," Jo replied. "He's a genius."

Ali sat across the Saloon from where Ash, Jo and the Winchesters were trying to work out a way to track the demon. Ellen emerged in front of her, sliding a beer over the counter towards her along with a bottle opener. Ali raised a brow at her.

"You look like you need it, kid," Ellen replied to Ali's unspoken question. Ali smiled tiredly, cracking open the beer and taking a sip. The older woman eyed the blonde girl carefully, her brow furrowed as she tried to figure her out. She had so many questions about what she had been up to since she had seen her last, but knowing Ali like she had used to, she knew she couldn't push it. Ali was one of those people who needed space.

"Thanks," Ali said after a while. She seemed absentminded and Ellen wasn't sure whether she meant for the beer or something else. She smiled a little but didn't question it.

"Jo and I were sorry to hear about your brother," she said, taking a seat opposite Ali. The blonde girl paused for a moment, the comment catching her off guard. "We mighta come to the funeral but we didn't hear until a couple months after." Ali placed her drink on the counter.

"There wasn't a funeral," she replied. "There wasn't even a body."

"Of course," Ellen said. "I'm sorry." Ali took another sip of the beer. "How long have you been with Sam and Dean?"

"Bout seven months," Ali replied.

"Hunting?"

"sometimes." Ellen sighed, feeling like she wasn't going to get anywhere with the girl. Not today anyway.

"I thought of you this morning," Ellen said in one final attempt. "I know this is a hard time for you. Especially without Tyler…"

"It's been ten years," Ali said finally. "You'd think it would get easier, but it still sucks."

"Preaching to the choir, honey," Ellen said, her eyes saddened with understanding.

"I never thanked you for everything that you did for me and -."

"Your thanks aren't necessary," Ellen replied, with a small smile. Ali returned one appreciatively, before Sam called Ellen's name and she excused herself away.

Ali tuned out the rest of the Roadhouse. She couldn't decide whether she wanted to punch something or curl up into a ball for a week and not talk to anyone. She figured maybe somewhere in between. She needed sleep. Grieving was exhausting and Dean's steady regime of four hours a night that she had been trying out was not working for her.

"Dean, Ali, come here, check this out," Sam said, snapping Ali from her thoughts. She downed the rest of her beer and wandered over to where Sam was looking at a file.

"What is it?" she asked, turning her face away after she had spoken to yawn.

"A few murders, not far from here, that Ellen caught wind of," Sam explained. "Looks to me like there might be a hunt."

"Yeah. So?" Dean asked.

"So, I told her we'd check it out," Sam said

They said their goodbyes to the three roadhouse residents, Ali assuring Ellen that she would keep in touch. As they made their way towards their respective cars in the parking lot, Ali hesitated by the driver's door, her lip between her teeth.

"Ali? You coming?" Dean asked. Ali looked back at them to see where they were both looking at her expectantly. She cleared her throat.

"You know what, I uh," she said, running her fingers through her hair. "I think I'm gonna sit this one out. I'll head back to Bobby's." Dean shot her a confused look.

"Since when do you ever turn down a hunt?" Dean asked sceptically.

"I dunno, I'm just not really in the mood today," she said. Dean raised a brow.

"Not in the mood? You haven't turned down one hunt I seven months, Ali. How can you just suddenly not be in the mood?"

"I'm not in the mood, Dean," she repeated, her voice hard and harsher than she had intended.

"It's okay, Ali," Sam said, nodding in her direction whilst shooting Dean a glare to tell him to shut up. Ali swore she also saw him glance down to her left ankle. "We'll meet you back at Bobby's when we're done."

Ali nodded in return, swinging the door open and climbing into the car. She couldn't hunt now. Not today. On a day that reminded her of so much grief and loss and death, she wouldn't be able to play a part in any of it.

Bobby was surprised when he found Ali sitting on the porch steps by herself. She sipped on a cold beer, her eyes scanning the junkyard, gaze falling on the beaten-up impala. Bobby's attention fell on the row of five beer bottles on the step next to her, one of which looked like it had already been consumed.

"I don't need to be concerned, do I?" Bobby asked flatly. "I mean, I never got around to reading parenting for dummies." Ali chuckled dryly. "Where're the boys?" he asked as he approached her. Ali smiled small at how he referred to Sam and Dean.

"On a hunt," Ali replied, looking up at him. The sun was behind him, making her eyes squint so she could see him.

"Did Ellen recognise you?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah," she replied.

"You can't've changed too much then," Bobby said with a chuckle. Ali took another sip from the bottle.

"I don't know about that," Ali muttered under her breath.

"You didn't want to go on the hunt with Sam and Dean?" he asked. "I wouldn't've stopped you this time," he joked. Ali shook her head.

"Not today, Bobby," she said, casting him a knowing look. Bobby sighed.

"Right." He bent down, taking a seat next to her on the porch steps. She picked a beer bottle from next to her and handed it to him, cracking it open before he took it. "I think we're gonna need a bigger bottle." Ali laughed, a real, slightly hysterical laugh that Bobby couldn't help but chuckle at. But as the laughter faded away into silence, he knew she was anything but happy in that moment.

He put an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side as she rested her head on his shoulder. "You're doing alright, kiddo," he murmured as he heard the first of her quiet sobs. He would pretend that he hadn't noticed them, like he always did. He knew it was what she wanted. And when Sam and Dean returned from whatever they were hunting, she would suck it up and be a hunter again. But for now, she was a teenager who had lost too much too young. And he was the only person she trusted enough to let console her.

AN: So that was chapter 11, hoped you liked it! Will be exploring more into Ali's back story for season 2 so I hope you like what is coming soon!

Let me know what you thought of this chapter, much love x