entitled: if these wings could fly (for the rest of our lives)

summary: On the eve of Allison's death, a desperate Chris makes a deal with a demon named Crowley to bring her back. She's brought back in time to say goodbye to her father just before his soul is taken to Hell. After making sure her friends are okay, she hit's the road, hunting a trail that Crowley left. But she's not the only one looking for the demon. Dean Winchester is older, wiser, louder, a better hunter, and the biggest ass she has ever met.

pairings/characters: Allison Argent/Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Chris Argent, Crowley, Kevin Tran, Charlie Bradbury, Bobby Singer, Benny, Derek Hale/Braeden, Sam Winchester/Lydia Martin, Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate

disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, Teen Wolf or their characters.

notes: Okay, so my first draft of this fic didn't work so well with me. I decided to give it another stab.

By the way, I flipped the timeline a little bit. Dean doesn't get the mark of Cain until AFTER he and Sam get mixed up in Garth's werewolf family.

The beginning is set right at the end of season 8 of SPN when the angels fell. Kind of goes AU from there.

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She has been on the road for four months.

Four months hunting rogue werewolves while slowly tracking the trail of a demon. A demon named Crowley.

She wasn't supposed to be here. She was supposed to be wherever the hell people went after death.

Because she had died. She had been stabbed right in the chest and bled out within minutes in the arms of someone she had once loved very much. Someone she still loved.

And that was it. That was supposed to be it.

The next thing she remembered was waking up in her bedroom, her father standing over her, nearly weeping with relief.

She remembered him explaining quickly that he didn't have much time, that she had to pack up the bare necessities, including her bow which was still miraculously in one piece, and get the hell out of Beacon Hills.

When she asked why, he told her that he had made a deal.

"A deal?" Allison repeats softly, watching as her father rushes around her bedroom, pulling clothes out of the dresser drawer and shoving them into a duffel bag that sits open mouthed on her bed. "Dad - Dad! Dad, look at me!"

Chris finally stops in his haste and turns when Allison's hand closes around his shoulder. He can't look her in the eye.

That's when Allison knows just how serious this is. She is still trying to figure out what is really going on and this -

"Dad, what did you do?" she asks.

When Chris looks at her, he is defeated. His eyes, usually so firm even when they shone with love for her and her mother, they are two pools of grey ice. Broken into bits.

"You were gone," he whispers. "You were gone and there was something I could do about it."

"What did you do?" she asks again. "What is this deal?"

"A deal with a demon."

Her hand falls away and she steps back. "W-What?"

"His name is Crowley," Chris explains softly. "And he offered to bring you back but -"

"But what? It couldn't have been out of the goodness of his heart."

For the first time, a whisper of a smile creases Chris's mouth. A soft, sad one that Allison recognizes.

"I need you to leave Beacon Hills, honey," Chris says gently. "Leave here and never come back."

"Dad, the others -"

"The others will be fine, you know that. Scott is strong enough to protect them."

"It's not just that, Dad -"

"Allison, listen to me," Chris's voice drops and Allison shuts her mouth. "You need to know this -"

The clock begins to chime.

Allison turns her eyes towards the one lone clock in her room, the large grandfather clock that had belonged to her mother's grandmother so many years ago.

Midnight.

She hears the snarling but her father sees the dog.

She had burned her father's body in the woods, covering the ashes with ferns and oak leaves.

It was a tradition, to burn a hunter's body after death. She knew it was something her father had wanted.

She leaves Beacon Hills that following night.

Her dad had been right, everyone made it out. Scott was okay, Lydia was okay. Stiles was not okay but would be soon.

And they still thought she was dead.

As much as that hurt, she remembers her father's request. So she leaves with only her bow for company.

She winds up in Arizona. It's hot, humid, and disgusting. But it is also the first place that actually has a lead on this demon that calls himself Crowley. The demon that sent that mutt to kill her father -

It's also where she meets a hunter named Dean Winchester.

He's older than her, probably a good ten to fifteen years, extremely attractive, with a pair of the most gorgeous green eyes - like a maple leaf held up to the sunlight - that she has ever seen. He's also the biggest smartass she has ever met. He would give Stiles Stilinski a run for his money.

They get into the most ridiculous argument over something she can't even remember before she ends up storming out of there. But not before throwing her beer in his face.

He follows her out into the parking lot where her stolen car is waiting, they yell at each other some more and then she finds herself pressed up against her 2011 Impala, his mouth on her throat.

He smells like beer, gunpowder, and peppermint. His hair, the color of wheat, is soft in between her fingers and she yanks on it, causing him to growl slightly in pain. But the pain seems to bring out the animal in him and it's all history from there.

Later on, they are still in the back of her car while she shrugs back into her jacket and tries to get her mussed up hair back in some kind of order. Her hair's longer than it's been in a while and she's taken to wearing it in a braid. Easier to keep out of the eyes, she had noted.

"You're too young to be a hunter," Dean says to her while she rebraids her hair.

"Says you," Allison says, glancing over her shoulder. His shirt is still open, showing off that beautiful chest - but he is too thin. Way too thin.

"How old are you?"

"Legal."

In truth, she had just turned twenty. Her twentieth birthday, spent all alone in some bar.

She had wondered how that day would have turned out if everything hadn't happened. If the nogitsune had never come into their lives - if Stiles had never been possessed. If she had never died. If her father had never made that deal.

If they were all okay.

They probably would have spent that day at Lydia's house, everything in the pack there. Even Derek. Lydia would have decorated, ordered a cake that Stiles would have gorged himself on, there would have been music, laughter, and just a feeling of family and pack.

It would have been a good day.

But nothing was okay. Nothing would ever be okay again.

"And the necklace?" Dean says carefully, gesturing to the silver bullet that hangs on a cord from the rearview mirror. She reaches over and plucks it off, replacing it around her neck. "Werewolf hunter?"

Allison nods. "I was raised as a werewolf hunter but basically, I hunt anything that tries to rip my face off or goes after the people I love."

Like my dad.

"So what's your story, Allison?" Dean says as he leans forward, grabbing up his own discarded jacket.

"Why so nosey?"

Dean shrugs a shoulder. "I dunno," he says truthfully. "Maybe I just need something to hold onto."

With those words, that lace Allison's spine, he kicks open the door and climbs out of the car.

Allison follows, zipping up her coat as she moved. Her dad's coat -

"Wait a minute -" Allison calls after him as he begins to head across the parking lot to where a long black car is parked. "What's the supposed to mean?" she asks. "Dean?"

Dean stops for a moment, his back still to her. He turns just so, just so she can see those sad green eyes, and gives her the lightest shake of the head.

It's in that split second that it all makes sense. They are just two people, Allison and Dean, two people that are so lonely and trying to find a bit of comfort in each other.

"Don't worry about it," he says softly. He turns away again and goes over to his car. Allison peers a bit and then she realizes that he is driving an Impala too. An old one. Just as he reaches the driver's side, he looks back over at her.

"By the way, your car sucks."

Allison bristles but can't help smiling too.

"Says you," she says.

Dean winks and gives her the smallest of forced smiles before he slides into the driver's seat. The Impala roars to life and pulls out of the parking lot, blazing down the street.

Allison watches until the tail lights disappear into the night before she climbs into her car.

Things are far from being over.

A few weeks later, she catches wind of something weird happening at a farm in Ohio. A man seen escaping from a corn field, a dead cow in his wake. The man wound up getting hit by a car. And even trippier - the cow had no heart.

Allison heads out to Ohio. It sounds like perhaps a different kind of kitsune from Kira maybe. One of the bloodier ones. Perhaps another nogitsune. But the problem there was she wasn't sure how to kill it or even banish it. She hoped like hell she was wrong.

And well, she happens across the most bizarre thing.

Not a nogitsune or a kitsune. A werewolf. A pack of them, actually. But these wolves are different from anything she has ever seen before. Born werewolves, yes, but these wolves stayed in human form. The only thing they had were the teeth and the claws. No instant healing. And an unhealthy appetite for human hearts.

She finds the trail of a skinny little werewolf by the name of Garth. But she's not the only one there.

She watches from afar as Dean Winchester communicates with this werewolf and his pack. He's not alone though, accompanied by a very attractive tall guy with shaggy dark hair and the same green eyes as Dean. He wasn't her type, but Lydia would absolutely be drooling right now.

She's just about to pull away from this and let Dean and cute tall guy handle it when something pretty nuts happens.

He watches as those long silver claws begin to slide from the sheriff's fingertips. Sam is still unconscious, laying flat on his back a few feet away. His eyes dart to his brother and back to the sheriff. He was still coming, enjoying the thrill of scaring the hell out his food before actually doing the deed.

Crap. Crapcrapcrap. They were screwed. His gun lay twenty meters away in the woods. Sam was out like sleeping beauty. Goodbye heart.

And then - well, he doesn't expect this to happen.

The air whistles and the werewolf lets out a yell of pain, his eyes going dull. With great dramatic effect, he slumps, falling face first onto the rocky ground with a long silver arrow protruding out of his back.

"What the -?" Dean's eyes peer into the darkness, his ears picking up the thud, thud of heavy footsteps. The wolf's buddy, perhaps, coming to finish them off.

And then -

"Allison?"

The younger huntress is still holding her bow, notched with another arrow. She gazes down at him with a growing smirk on her red lips before she lowers her bow and holds out a hand to him.

"Let's not make this thing a habit, okay?" she says, her smirk spreading into an actual smile.

He returns that smile unashamedly as he accepts her hand. She pulls him to his feet and he releases her arm before turning towards Sam.

"Sam?" he mutters, shaking his brother's shoulder. "Come on, buddy, we've got to get out here."

Sam grumbles under his touch, his head lolling before one eye cracks open.

"D'n?"

His rapidly beating heart begins to relax back into it's normal thump. "Yeah, kiddo." He glances back up at Allison. "Can you give me a hand?"

Allison nods, shifting her bow onto her back before she sinks down on the other side of his brother. With a look exchanged, they each take a side and slowly bring a still groaning Sam to his feet.

"Whoa," Allison mutters under her breath, her knees trembling underneath his brother's added weight.

"Sorry," Dean chuckles softly. "My car's parked about a hundred meters in."

They move steadily, the outline of the Impala coming into view. Allison winces again, sweat breaking out on her forehead. Holy hell, this guy is heavy!

They reach the side of the car and Dean takes all of Sam's still unconscious form as Allison hit's the door and yanks it open. Dean shifts Sam into the front seat, gently shutting the door after him before he turns back to Allison.

"How is that you always pop up just when -?"

"I'm starting to get the feeling," Allison says with a smile. "Care to tell me who...?" she gestures wordlessly at the window.

"My brother," Dean says.

Allison steps back just a bit. That makes sense actually, she muses.

"Sam?" she asks.

"Quick wit, Sherlock."

She slaps his arm. "Get out of here."

Dean returns her smile just before gets into the driver's seat. And then -

"Thank you."

And just before Allison turns away - "No problem."

She sees him again that following morning.

She's finally got a new lead on Crowley. A hunter by the name of Cole had joined up with some other hunters who knew some demons and this Cole had given her some of the clues that he had picked up from the demons.

And well, that had led her to another farm in the middle of nowhere.

"Crap," Allison mutters as she pulls her 2011 Impala along the outskirts of the property, well out of view of the human eye.

But not the demon eye.

Once she's (stupidly) inside the house, she knows she's made a huge mistake.

Crowley isn't here anymore but someone else is. Someone even more lethal than the demon that dragged her father to hell.

She knows that's it. She's gonna die.

The demon raises his blade, ready to strike. Her arms hang uselessly at her sides, her bow laying across the room, having been knocked out of her hands almost the exact moment she had come through the door.

And then -

"Hey!"

Bells are ringing in her ears as the gun goes off and the demon drops for just a moment. Strong arms wrap around her middle and she is being lifted right off her feet. She doesn't even have time to yell out because then she's out of the house and being shoved inside a car with such ease that she must weigh no more than a puppy.

By the time she really understands what is going on, the car has already pulled away from the farmhouse and is blazing down I-90.

And Dean is yelling in her ear.

"What the hell was that?!" he hollers as he continues to drive. "You come into a demon's house, armed with a freaking bow and expect to come out alive! How stupid are you?!"

Allison bristles with anger. "Hey! It's none of your damn business what I was doing in there! And - hey, where's my bow?" She wriggles around in the seat, glancing at her feet and behind her. "Where's my bow?!"

"Relax, it's down on the floor," Dean says, still breathing heavily.

Allison spies it then, it's glorious body twisted and cracked. She reaches down, pulling it up into her lap.

"Damn it. It will take me at least a week to fix this."

"You're lucky you got it back at all," Dean snarls.

Allison sighs in irritation, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"I could have handled it back there," she says after a moment.

Dean's laughter is sarcastic and something else. Something that she can't quite put her finger on.

When she looks to her side, she sees a look cross his tired face.

Relief.

Allison swallows the words that want to come tumbling out of her mouth. So many why's, and what's. So many questions. So few answers.

She doesn't know why she hasn't tried to pitch herself out of this car She can't figure out why she is still here, why she isn't in hell where she belongs.

All she knows that this guy beside her just saved her life. And right now, he is all she has.

And perhaps, she is all he has.

Gently, slowly, and carefully, Allison holds out a hand. Dean's eyes dart to her hand, to her face, and back to the road.

"My name is Allison Argent," she whispers.

He loosens his left hand from the wheel, his foot sliding onto the brake. His hand stretches across his abdomen and takes hers.

"Dean Winchester."

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That's all she wrote. I like this new chapter better than before.

More soon.