Allison is sure of two things.

One is that monsters are real.. and two is that her name is Allison.

After Dean's bombshell, she had eaten her soup and crackers in silence. Sam had been casting her cautious little looks and walking on eggshells around her, but Dean had just kept on eating as if her dying was no big deal. The soup, crackers and water had surprisingly filled her up, and when she asked again about a shower, Sam had finally conceded and showed her to the bathroom.

"I, uh, we don't really have clothes that will fit you," Sam had sheepishly explained. "If you don't mind, we can lend you a shirt and some old running shorts of mine."

"That's fine."

Her gaze had been stuck on the floor, so she didn't see as Sam hurriedly left the room for a brief moment. Instead, her mind is stuck on the fact that she died. She knows, at least she feels like, that she should be hysterical and raging and denying everything about monsters and her death, but she's oddly at peace with everything. She's accepted every word that's been told to her and in her nearly blank mind, she knows it's the truth.

A door clicking shut had startled her from her thoughts and when she looked up, she found Sam clutching a pair of shorts in hand before heading straight for a duffel bag on the floor. He made quick work of rummaging through it and producing a blue plaid button-up, he then heading for her and handing the two items over.

So now Allison stands in the dingy bathroom and staring at her reflection in the mirror. Dark, nearly purple skin beneath her eyes makes the rest of her skin look unnaturally pale- at least in comparison to the brothers outside the door- and smudges of dirt coat any available skin she can see. Dark, limp hair hangs just a smidgen past her shoulders and she runs her fingers through it only to frown at the small clumps of dirt that fall out.

Setting down her borrowed clothes atop the closed toilet lid, Allison strips. The green military jacket is salvageable so she shakes it off and tosses it on the sink counter. The white cotton dress, however, is not. She takes a moment to stare at the reflection of the simple white dress that was once pretty when she notices something odd. There's a mark on her left forearm- the skin darker there than everywhere else- and when she lifts her arm to take a look at it instead of staring at the reflection of it, she finds that the skin is raised. Blistered almost.

Frowning, Allison traces the raised skin with her right hand and rotates her arm to see the whole thing. The mark has what appears to be a palm and fingers, and then it suddenly clicks as to what she's looking at. It's the same mark as Dean had showed her on his own arm- the hand print of the angel that pulled them from Hell.

She studies the mark for a few moments before snapping out of it, she then stripping out of her cotton dress. The dirt is clinging too much to the white material, so figuring it's a lost cause, Allison tosses the dress into the small trashcan in the corner. Her bra appears in good shape as do the black short tights she has on over her underwear. And since there's no other option for bra and panties, Allison shrugs and puts them aside to put back on until she can ask the brothers to get her some more.

She turns on the shower easily enough, the cold water making her flinch and she only steps in under the weak water pressure when the room is starting to fill with steam. She stands under the water long enough to soak her hair and until her skin is tinged pink, and then the dirt slides down the water drain with help from the suds that she had lathered up in her hands thanks to a small bar of soap. There's a cheap bottle of the two-in-one shampoo/conditioner combo and even though it smells manly, Allison goes ahead and lathers her hair with it.

She doesn't know how long she's been in the shower, but when the water starts running cold she figures it's time to get out. She wrings out the excess water from her hair before grabbing the dark green towel she saw hanging on the wall rack next to the shower stall, and wraps that around her body. After drying off, she wraps her hair in the towel before pulling on her underwear and bra, followed by the black short tights. Sam's running shorts don't fit, even with the draw string being pulled as tight as it will go, so she decides to forgo them and hopes the men aren't too uncomfortable with her tights. The plaid button-up falls to her knees and after buttoning up the buttons- only leaving the very top one one undone- Allison then rolls up the sleeves to her elbows.

With one side of the shirt practically falling off her shoulder, she shrugs at her appearance in the mirror and then scans what little products reside there on the counter. Everything she sees, her mind supplies a name for it- toothpaste, toothbrush, deodorant, mouthwash, comb- and she quickly picks up the mouthwash. She pours herself a cap full to swish her mouth with, and then picks up the small black comb to run through her damp hair.

By the time she's done, her stomach's rumbling again and she doesn't hesitate to join Sam and Dean in the room.

"Your shorts didn't fit," is the first thing she says when the brothers stare at her. She tosses the shorts onto one of the beds and then heads towards them in the small kitchen. "Luckily, I had tights on underneath my dress so it's not too weird."

Dean seems to sigh out relief and Allison flashes him a faint smile.

"I'm hungry. Again," she tells them when they don't say anything. "And, um, you guys were right. I do have my own angel mark." She holds out her arm and it's Dean who grabs it to turn her arm and study it. He huffs and grumbles something beneath his breath, and it's only when he releases her does she take a seat at the table once more.

"Do you want more soup?" Sam asks. "Or do you want something heavier?"

"Did you buy anything other than soup?" She asks instead.

Sam glances at the counter where numerous cans of soup sit and he huffs a sheepish laugh. Dean rolls his eyes and reaches for a grease stained bag, only to pull out an equally greasy wrapped burger. "Here. Try this."

Allison wastes no time in unwrapping the burger once it's in her possession and takes the biggest bite she can. She groans as the flavors burst all over taste buds, but after forcefully swallowing the one mouth full, she grimaces and drops the burger back onto it's wrapper. "I- I think I'll take some soup."

Dean chuckles before taking his second burger back and digs right on in. Sam goes ahead and starts another pan of soup, and then all too soon Allison's stuffing her face with steaming liquid and crackers.

"So, tell me," Allison mumbles once Sam takes a seat and opens up a laptop. "What do the two of you do that talk of angels and demons don't send you running for the hills?"

Sam pauses mid-key stroke and Dean mid-chew. The brothers glance at one another before Dean shrugs. "Cas said we couldn't tell her about herself. This is us." Sam eventually sees reason and gestures for Dean to go ahead and take the lead on this one. "We, uh, we hunt monsters. All sorts of them," he says and takes a bite of his burger once again. After chewing, swallowing, and taking a pull from his beer bottle, Dean continues. "It's kind of the family business. Gankin' 'em sonnuvabitches before they can kill or eat anyone else."

"Family business?" She murmurs distractedly. As she lazily twirls the spoon in her bowl, the next words just fall from her lips. "Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent."

"Hmm? What was that?" Sam looks up from his computer screen to Allison, only to find Allison frowning with her forehead scrunched in thought. "Did you- did you just speak Latin?"

"I don't know. Did I?"

Sam's eyes widen though the glint in his eyes shows he's rather happy about something instead of shocked. He asks Allison to repeat the words again and she does so, but she repeats them rather hesitantly at the thoughtful look on Sam's face. "We hunt.. we hunt those who hunt us?" He translates.

"Hunt, huh?" Dean grunts. "Family business of your own, kid? Gotta admit, I like that motto."

"It's a code," she automatically replies. Her mouth snaps shut with an audible click and she frowns even deeper. Something in the back of mind keeps whispering that the code is wrong, but she doesn't tell that to him. Instead, she asks, "How do I know that?"

"Memories," Sam supplies. "Cas said if you stick with us, your memories will come when you're ready for them."

"Mhm. Speaking of this Cas," she says. "-will I ever get to meet him?"

"Maybe." Sam takes a look at Allison's pondering expression and he knows he's gonna have to get her hopes up. "But, uh, the thing about angels, Allison, is that they're- they're not-"

"They're dicks." Dean shows no remorse for his bluntness when Sam glares at him. "They're not fluffy wings and glowing halos. They're dicks."

"But Cas.." Allison says, confused. "He pulled me out, right? He can't be all that bad."

"Cas is the exception," Sam assures her. "But as for meeting him, it might be a while. God's taken a leave of absence- for years, already- and Heaven's been in chaos ever since. He'll visit if we're in dire need of his help or if he has some down time."

"Oh. Okay."

"Yeah, so eat your food and get comfortable. You can sleep on Sammy's bed while he looks for our next case. If nothing pops up, we'll be heading home come early morning."

xXx

Sleep does not come easily for Allison. The second she felt herself drifting off, she can hear laughter echoing in the darkness of her mind. So instead, she lays curled on her side and glares at Dean who easily dozed off and started softly snoring almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Quiet laughter catches her attention and she looks back towards the small kitchen table where Sam's grinning. "You can tease him about that when he wakes. He never believes me when I tell him he snores."

"Yes, well, no one likes to believe they do." Realizing she's not going to fall asleep, Allison pushes herself up into a sitting position and pads on over to the table. "Did you find any.. cases, was it? I'm guessing a case is a hunt?"

"You'd be correct and no, I didn't find anything." Sam tells her as he closes the lid of the laptop, pushes himself back from the table a little and starts stretching. "There's nothing fishy going on anywhere near here."

"So what happens now?" She's sitting directly across from him, her legs pulled up onto the seat of her chair so her chin rests on her knees.

"Now we go home and get some real down time for a couple of days before starting the hunt all over again," he answers her. "We live in Kansas, so it'll be a bit of a trip."

"That's fine." Brief silence lingers and then Allison sighs. "What about me, though? Apparently I just came back from the dead so I can't exactly be seen out, can I? And wow," she shakes her head in disbelief. "-I bet that's one sentence you don't hear too much. I just came back from the dead," she scoffs.

Sam smiles at her. "I'm honestly just surprised at how easy you're rolling with the punches."

"You and me both. I just- I don't know why I'm so at ease with it all," she quietly admits. "There's just something.. in the back of mind- nothing crazy, mind you- but there's just something that tells me that I'm okay. That monsters existing is nothing new to me." Sam grins knowingly with a small nod. "And besides, being with you and Dean is already a hundred times better than where I was before, so.."

"Yeah. Well.." Sam trails off, yawning some more. "You'll be fine with us. We won't let anything happen to you and if you want, Dean and I have a friend who can forge you some papers and ID's in case you wanna wander around town whenever we're on a case. Cas said you were just shy of your twenty-first birthday, so at least you can have a beer or two when we hit up a bar."

"Forging papers? Isn't that illegal?" She quirks an eyebrow at him.

"A lot of what we do is illegal," Sam laughs. "It has to be or else we'd never get the monster."

Allison shrugs after a pause of scrutiny. "I understand."

"Oh my God," Dean suddenly yells from across the room. "Will you two stop yappin'?! I'm tryin' to sleep over here!"


For the last few hours that it's still dark out, Allison asked to use Sam's laptop to catch up on anything and everything she's missed- as well as familiarize herself with anything from the past, and that he can reclaim his bed before leaving come sunrise. He takes a moment to think about it, but eventually digs out a pair of in-ear headphones and tosses them at her while telling her keep the noise down so Dean doesn't get snappy.

Some movie trailers seem familiar, but in the end she just doesn't fully remember. Music is the same- some songs making her bop her head along to the beat or hum the tune correctly even though she has no memory of ever hearing it before. She does a quick run-through of everything that's going on in the world and what major crisis had/has everyone in a tizzy, and then something tells her to try and look herself up.

Unfortunately, all she has to go on is her first name. Her first name is already typed into the search engine before she realizes it and goes to delete it, but before she can, the search engine finishes off her name as if it's been searched before. Allison Argent.

Her fingers move of their own accord and she soon finds herself in Sam's search history. In the history, she searches the name 'Allison Argent' and is brought to everything that Sam's found. And since this is her doing her own research and not having anyone tell it to her, Allison throws caution to the wind and reads up on her apparent self.

Young Allison Argent apparently placed in some small division gymnastic competitions, though it was never enough for her to actually consider going professional, and young teen Allison Argent was also apparently very good in archery. There wasn't anything else on her except for an Obituary- her obit letting her know that her birthday was indeed coming up on March 19 and that she died before she could turn eighteen. She finds out that she was survived by her father and her grandfather, and she wants to know what happened to her to mother. If she ever even had a mother.

Ignoring the small headache building, Allison does a search on other Argent's in the California area where her obit last placed her and comes to realize that she did have a mother- a mother who died by suicide and an aunt by an animal attack. Out of all the Argent's, it's her apparent aunt Kate that has the most about herself in the papers because her aunt had apparently killed nearly an entire family in their home. A family of men, women, and children.

One second she's silently crying over the mess that is her family, and the next she's cradling her head in her hands as a blinding pain erupts behind her eyes. She pushes back from the table, ripping out the earbuds in the process, and plants her feet on the floor and bends over until her head is between her knees. She can hear muffled talking and hands are suddenly on her back and shoulders, but the pain doesn't let up.

It's like something's pressing fast forward on one particular memory going on behind her clamped eyelids as she screams in pain, and then the next moment she's gasping and knocking the brothers back as she jolts into an upright position. "It wasn't- it wasn't an animal attack," she cries.

"What?" Dean grunts.

"She- her throat," Allison gulps, swiping at her teary eyes and taking deep breaths. "Her throat was ripped out."

"Whose throat?"

"Kate's! My aunt's," she sniffles. Little pings of pain erupt in her head and she flinches back with a small cry. "I was- I was reading and it just came rushing back."

"You were reading?" Dean says incredulously. As one, he and Sam turn towards the laptop and Sam's quick to slam the lid shut at what they see. "Dammit, kid, what were you thinking?!"

"How can I be related to someone like that," she continues to cry. Totally ignoring Dean, she continues on as if nothing's amiss. "We- we protect people and she- she killed them. She murdered children!"

"Okay, yeah, she was a bad person," Sam tries soothing her. "But what's done is done. Your family apparently moved passed it."

"Yeah and apparently she got her throat ripped out. Karma sucks, kid."

"Dude!" Sam yells. He rolls his eyes at his brother's blasé attitude, and then gives his attention to a distraught Allison. "When you say she got her throat ripped out, what do you mean-"

"Claws. His fingernails were claw-like," she tells him.

"His? Do you know who?"

"No. My head kind of.. exploded in pain. I only knew it was Kate because her picture was on the computer."

"Well then that settles it. No more researching your past online," Dean grumpily states. "Forcing the memories will screw with your noggin. Just ask Sammy."

Dean stomps and then disappears into the bathroom, and Sam reluctantly nods at her. "I was, uh, stuck in a cage with Lucifer- the Lucifer. The memories really did a number on me." Tears drying up, Allison can only stare up at Sam in complete and utter shock. "So yeah, don't force' em," he nervously says.

Her mouth opens to retort, but all that comes out is a squeak as her gaze turns sad for a completely different reason. The bathroom door opens and when she turns and sees Dean brushing his teeth, it's then she realizes the sun filtering in through the flimsy room curtains. It's morning already.

"We're leavin' as soon as everyone freshens up," Dean mutters around a mouthful of toothpaste. "So chop-chop."

Sam's the only one to shower that morning, and Allison tries to make quick work of de-tangling her hair and figuring out a way to make herself an outfit for the day. She asks Dean for a plain tee and happily accepts the white one he tosses at her. She then proceeds to strip out of Sam's plaid shirt behind the bathroom door once it's free and pulls on the white tee only to gather up the bottom of the shirt and tie it in a knot at the small of her back. The short tights are a little on the small side and inappropriate for the public, so she takes Sam's plaid shirt and ties the arms around her waist so the shirt covers her bottom.

Feeling decently appropriate, she finds her ankle boots that she'd left in the bathroom when she had showered the previous day and slips them on. And when she steps out back into the room, both brothers stare.

"Wow," Dean smirks. "You make our clothes look good."

Allison's nose scrunches up. "Don't be gross."

Sam snorts and Dean stutters. "Wh-what? No! I didn't mean-"

"Mhm. Look at me again like you did just a moment ago and I'll claim you as my father in public the next time you're interested in a lady friend."

Sam snorts again, laughter finally escaping him as Dean's eyes narrow. "You're evil." Then gathering up his duffel bag, he turns and stomps towards the door. "I'll be waiting in the car."

As soon as Dean disappears from view, Allison smiles- the first smile that Sam's seen that includes dimples. And when she catches Sam's gaze, she laughs. "I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself."

"Tread carefully, Allison. Dean's a prankster. Once you get him started he won't stop, and it is a long trip back home."

Allison's smile dims a little and Sam instantly hates himself for opening his mouth. "With the last few years I've had, I could use a little fun."

She waits for him to finish gathering up his personal items and before Sam can fully zip up his bag, Allison catches him freezing in thought before he frantically starts digging through his bag once more. She catches him practically scraping the bottom of his bag before pawing through it's pockets, and after a few moments it seems he finds what he's looking for.

"Uh, here," he says and walks over to her. He holds out a black rope necklace with a small circular, silver pendant hanging from it- a star inside the circle. "It's an anti-possession pendant. If you wear it, it'll keep you from being possessed by a demon."

Allison glances between the necklace and Sam before hesitantly taking it, and casts him a skeptical glance. "Demon possession, huh? Why don't you or Dean have necklaces then?"

"Because I've been possessed before and it's not fun," he admits. "We eventually went a more permanent route." Sam then tugs on the collar of his shirt and Allison is treated to the sight of a bigger version of her pendant inked into Sam's skin in black.

Allison's too busy staring at the anti-possession tattoo- really, the tattoo and not ogling Sam's toned flesh- and is startled from her thoughts when Sam clears his throat. Her gaze darts up to meet his and she's surprised to see the tops of his cheeks tinted pink. "Right.. right," she mumbles and hastily drapes the necklace over her head. "Demon possession is bad. The necklace will never come off."

As Allison scurries out the motel room, Sam's gaze follows her. He could have sworn the apple of her cheeks started reddening seconds after he cleared his throat, almost as if he'd caught her ogling him, but that can't have been the case because she was merely staring at the tattoo.

But if so, then why was he blushing under such an intense stare from her?


In case you're not familiar with my writing, things progress quickly with me.