Author's Note: To the anon reviewer who felt Allison was OOC, she is! I warned you in the very beginning that this Allison was not going to be the same as we've seen her in the show. The girl's been in Hell for over a hundred years, so obviously she's not the same as before. She was tortured and ripped apart and her mind completely broken, so yeah.. she doesn't want to see her friends/family right now because she's not in the right mindset for it. But we're getting to Beacon Hills soon. Don't worry. And just like you've noticed Allison is not the same as before, everyone else will realize it, too.

The blade slides right on in below her sternum and her breath whooshes from her lungs in shock as she arches in on herself. The wound burns hot even though the night's air is chilly and the fight around her has gone quiet.

"Allisooonnnnn!"

She's no supernatural creature, but Lydia's scream rings loud and clear. The blade is pulled from her body and the Oni all disappear in a cloud of black smoke. The bow falls from her hand and as she stumbles and falls, Scott catches her before she hits the ground.

"Did you find her? Is she okay? Is Lydia safe?" She pants.

"Yeah. She's okay," Scott assures her.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Her hand is laying over her wound when Scott grasps her bloody hand. He stares down in concentration, gripping tighter before a brief flash of panic and disbelief takes over his features. "I- I can't," he says and readjusts his grip again. "I can't take your pain."

A sense of peace and acceptance floods through her, and Allison stares up at the pitch black sky. "It's because it doesn't hurt."

"No."

"It's okay," she cries.

"Allison, no, please."

"It's okay.. it's okay. You have to- you have to tell my Dad. Tell him- tell him-"

Her breathing stutters- she can't catch a full breath- and Allison gasps awake.

Her clothes and bed sheet are damp with sweat as she pants harshly to try and even out her breathing. Ever since every single memory has made itself known, nightmares about her past have started acting up and with the added memories of Hell, Allison doesn't get much sleep now-a-days.

For the last few days, it's been nightmare after nightmare and Sam's been there to pick up the pieces whenever he catches her stumbling around the kitchen in the dark or zoning out. At first, she had flinched away from his touch and tried to hide her vulnerability, but Sam pushed through her walls and was there to still her trembling hands.

"This has got to stop," she mumbles tiredly to the emptiness of her room.

Heart still pounding and knowing that sleep will not come anymore this morning, Allison climbs out of bed and dresses for the day. A dark gray tank top with a printed dream catcher on the front is pulled on over a black sports bra and cut-off jean shorts replace her sleep shorts. She pads barefoot out of her room, tying up her hair in a small messy bun as she makes her way towards the kitchen. Coffee had never been her drink of choice, but she recently found herself enjoying the hot liquid that gave her an extra pep in her step since the nightmares have started.

She fills a thermal mug full of the dark liquid with only two spoons of sugar and tightens the lid on it. Her mind is too frazzled to even attempt reading a book or staring at a computer screen, so as she contemplates what to do she doesn't realize that her feet have carried her to the weapon's range.

Her gaze slides over every weapon glinting under the room's overhead lights and she has a sudden longing for a gym so she can properly stretch her muscles. But since there is no proper gym, Allison settles for doing a couple of yoga stretches, some push-ups and then a few more yoga poses to loosen up. Then feeling limber, Allison finishes off her now cool coffee and heads straight for the bow and arrows. Her hands work as if they have a mind of their own, she numbly pulling on an arm-guard and a thumb shooting glove before scooping up all the practice arrows and a recurve bow.

The first several arrows that Allison looses barely even manage to hit the target itself, but after several more shots and steadying her breath and falling into a familiar pattern, she's hitting dead center in no time.

A slow clap startles Allison from her zone, she whirling around only to find Dean smiling at her. "Impressive. It seems you got your groove back."

She grins back and shrugs. "It took a while. I was rusty."

"Yeah, I'll bet." Dean looks wide awake and Allison briefly wonders just how long she's been down in the range. "Nightmares again?"

"Got it in one."

Dean frowns and Allison shifts from foot to foot. He saunters deeper into the room, picking up styrofoam targets along the way as a plan comes to mind. "Ready for a real challenge? I'll set these up around the room."

She huffs a small amused laugh, but agrees before gathering up some more practice arrows and a quiver to attach to her back. When ready, Dean gestures to the twenty targets he has set up and promises ten dollars to every exact bulls-eye she hits in under twenty seconds. The targets are stationed on the far back wall at various heights, as well as on the left and right walls. She nods after calculating just exactly how she's going to hit every target and once Dean yells, "Go!", she smirks and rolls across the counter that they're supposed to shoot behind.

Landing on bended knee, Allison reaches behind her head for the first arrow. It's nocked within the blink of an eye and loosed into one of the targets to the far left, hitting the bulls-eye. She doesn't have time to watch as Dean gapes at her accuracy, and instead chooses to rise with ease as she reaches for another arrow. She doesn't go further than seven steps in front of the counter, she loosing arrow after arrow with such ease. She ends up hitting eighteen targets out of twenty, sixteen of the arrows hitting dead center.

As she turns around to face Dean with a triumphant smirk, she finds that Sam's standing next his brother now.

"That was incredibly hot," Dean says out of the corner of his mouth as if that would keep Allison from hearing, he avoiding her gaze.

She snorts, but it's Sam's reaction that makes her freeze and blush. "It was pretty hot," he nods in agreement.

Dean throws his head back in laughter and Sam smiles sheepishly when Allison continues to blush. Eventually, she wills her blush away and clears her throat before telling Dean just how much money he owes her.

"Yeah, yeah," he chuckles. "You'll get it later." Turning to his brother, he then gestures to the iPad being held near his brother's hip. "What do you got?"

"We might have a case a few hours from here."

"Might?" Allison questions.

Sam grins. "Yeah. Your friend Derek actually got in contact with me about something he overheard at the hotel he was staying at." Dean barely grimaces at the werewolf's name now- something in which Sam and Allison take great delight in because Dean was the only one who seemed to be rubbed wrong by Derek- and gestures for Sam to go on. "Apparently, six years ago there was a murder/suicide at the Grand Colony Hotel- a father/daughter duo of the family that owned the place. On the anniversary since then, a father/daughter duo who was unfortunately staying there has died. There was only one case in which a mother was in the room at the time and she told the police that it was like her husband was in a trance as he attacked their daughter and then killed himself. Of course, no one paid attention and thought the mother was just in denial about her husband's actions."

"And Derek gave us this case because..?" Allison wonders.

"Because the anniversary is coming up and he figured this was fishy enough to toss our way since he knows what we do."

"When's the anniversary?"

Sam looks to Dean, frowning. "April 8th."

"That's three days away!" Allison exclaims.

"I know. Pack a bag and get ready for some last minute research. If this really is something we need to take care of, we need to be prepared."

"Dig. Dig faster!"

"We're.. trying!" Allison grunts.

The lead Derek had given them about The Grand Colony Hotel ended up actually being a hunter's gig the Winchesters and Allison decided to take care of.

The spirit- Raymond Salazar- had come from a decently wealthy family, but his pride and joy were his wife of twenty years and his seventeen year old daughter. However, the marriage hit some bumps along the way and even though Raymond tried his damnedest to keep his little family together, his wife had filed for divorce. The wife had kept her distance from then on, she choosing to stay in a different suite at the Hotel since that was where the little family lived. But the second Raymond got word his wife was moving out and taking their daughter with her, he made the bold move of taking his daughter's life and then his own. Apparently, if his wife was going to take his family from him, he was going to beat her to the punch and let her live in misery without her baby.

The murder/suicide had actually taken place eleven years ago, but it wasn't until six years ago that the father/daughter deaths started happening every year on the anniversary of the original.

"Guys!" Dean yells through the speaker of Sam's phone- the phone which is sitting in the breast pocket of Sam's shirt. "Put some muscle into it! I've got the daughter locked away, but man," he drawls. "-her spirit possessed dad is pissed!"

Allison curses. "Shit."

Furniture breaking and swear words can be heard through the phone, Dean's grunts and groans making Sam and Allison work even faster. The shovels eventually hit the top of the casket, both hunters tossing aside their shovels and falling to their knees to finish digging with their hands. They're both covered in sweat and dirt, and both breath heavily in relief when their fingers catch at the crease so they can pry open the casket. The moment it cracks open, the phone's speaker crackles from within Sam's shirt as if Dean's fumbling with it.

"Hey, guys! Incoming! I'm assuming you cracked the casket 'cause the dad's not possessed anymore which means you got one angry spirit hell bent on taking you out."

Sam quickly reaches for the bag with salt and gasoline, and Allison digs out the lighter from her jean's pocket, but he greatly fumbles with the supplies when Allison squeaks. He shouts when she's suddenly yanked from the hole, his own head peeking up from the ground just in time to see his friend go flying. She lands atop a headstone that stands about two feet tall on her stomach, the air whooshing from her lungs on impact.

"Allison!"

"D-don't! Finish.. the job!" She wheezes while trying to stand and blindly tosses the lighter towards the hole where he's at.

Her eye sight is blurred by tears that have sprung to her eyes from her landing, so she has to blink rapidly to clear it. Her flesh breaks out in goosebumps with the sudden chill of the air and she knows the pissed off spirit is close. The angry apparition appears before her and Allison hurries to unstrap the sawed-off shotgun from her back to shoot off some salt rounds. But before she can, the man backhands her and sends Allison flying back until she hits a tree.

She barely has time to catch her breath before an ice cold grip tightens around her throat, the spitting mad apparition hissing in her face. "S-Sam," she rasps. "Sa-"

The apparition hisses angrily again, this time because it's form burns likes glowing embers from the inside out before disappearing. Allison then drops to her feet, she loudly sucking in air to her oxygen-deprived lungs. Bent at the waist, she swings wildly when a hand drops to the back of her shoulder.

"Hey.. hey! It's me. It's Sam."

"Sam?" Allison glances up, relieved to see the youngest Winchester standing there. "I'm- I'm sorry."

"It's fine. You okay?"

"I will be."

"Good. We gotta go get Dean now. Come on."

She takes Sam's offered hand, gulping down air and trying to get her bearings. "Did you- did you fill in the hole already?"

"Nope." The duo stumble as they rush through the cemetery and Allison yanks back a little on Sam's hand at his answer. "Come on, Alli, it's fine. We've done it before. The authorities will just think it was some punk kids."

"But- it's rude!"

Sam snorts, shaking his head as he drags Allison towards the Impala. "The man's spirit just tossed you around like a rag doll and you're upset because we didn't recover his bones? You're really something else, you know that?"

She grumbles in response, but ends up seeing reason and slides herself into the passenger seat with a pained grunt.

The following day, Allison makes her way to the front of the bunker in nothing but a sports bra and yoga capris. There are finger like bruises wrapped around her neck, one giant bruise over her abdomen and another along her back which is why she dressed in little as possible.

It's well passed breakfast and possibly even lunch, but Allison's in too much pain to even care.

"Painkillers. Give me all the painkillers."

"Not on an empty stomach."

She grumbles at Sam's words, she slowly taking a seat in the front library and laying her head on the table. "I miss the days of hunting werewolves and kanimas. They never caused me this much pain." She doesn't hear anyone's chair scrape signaling someone getting up, but she does feel fingers dancing along her back before something cold is stuck beneath the band of her bra to soothe her bruise. "Bless you," she sighs out in relief.

When her eyes open, she finds Dean pouting at her from down the table. "Suck it up, Princess. I got banged up, too."

"Want some lunch?" Sam asks. "I can get you those painkillers, too."

"Oh, come on!" Dean whines. "I got stitches, Sammy. Stitches! Why didn't you make me food?"

"Dude, shutup."

Allison snorts and then grimaces in pain, Sam then handing over another ice pack for her stomach while he goes to make her something to eat. As she sits up and leans back to put the second ice pack on her abdomen, she catches Dean smirking at her. "What?"

"Nothing." He feigns innocence. "Just wonderin' when you and Sammy are gonna wake up and realize you're both perfect for each other."

"What?!"

"Come on," Dean chuckles. "Don't tell me you're that oblivious? Sammy doesn't coddle and guess what? He's coddling you."

"He is not."

"He's making you lunch right now and ever since you've got your memories back, things have been.. touchy-feely between you two."

Allison frowns. "He's just being nice."

"Wake up and smell the pheromones, kid. Sure Sammy is nice, but he's been paying extra attention to you for quite some time. And you, too. You're more relaxed with him than you are me."

"But that's- that-"

"Is because you like him just as much as he likes you."

Dean looks as smug as can be and after Allison flounders some, she settles for sighing and glaring. "I hate you."

"No, you don't," he laughs. "You love me. Well, not as much as-"

"Shut it!"

Dean's rough laughter make's Allison smile, but the smile vanishes and a blush stains her cheeks when Sam reappears with a sub sandwich, some chips and a large Gatorade.

"Told you," the elder Winchester sing-songs.

"Told her what?" Sam asks, taking a seat closest to Allison. "Oh and I found some fruit for you, too."

"T-thank you."

As Allison eats, she occasionally shoots Dean a glare when he smirks in her and Sam's direction while wiggling his eyebrows, and Sam's too occupied with already looking for a new hunt to notice anything going on. Eventually, Allison is left nibbling on some strawberries and kiwi when Sam shuts down his laptop and turns to Allison.

"Before I forget, Derek said to call him when you have time."

"He did?" She asks, swallowing the fruit in her mouth. "Why?"

Sam fidgets under her stare, he then clearing his throat a second later. "I may have filled him in about how the hunt went down."

Allison groans because she suddenly remembers that while she and Derek didn't get along for a majority of their lives, he did care whether or not she was injured and the fact that Sam told him what had happened with what was supposed to be a simple salt and burn.. well, she really rather not have that conversation.

"Call him," Dean grins. "Just get it over with."

"Easy for you to say. He's like a mother-hen when it comes to people he cares about," Allison huffs. "I mean, we had only started getting along towards the end of my life, but I have a feeling he's going to have something to say about what happened."

"Well if it makes you feel any better, he found it amusing that you had a rough night," Sam informs her.

"Yeah, he would. He's probably still sore from that year I went off the rails and shot arrows into him and his pack."

Sam laughs. "Do we even wanna know?"

"Not really. It was a tough time," she shrugs and then stands to her feet. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go see what Derek has to say."

Sam and Dean don't keep her, and Allison makes it to her room without a fuss. She unplugs her phone from it's charger where it sits atop her nightstand and gently lowers herself down onto her bed with only slight groaning.

She finds Derek's number in her phone fairly quickly since it's only one of the four she has, and barely hesitates before touching his contact information to call him.

"Allison. Finally awake, I see" greets her almost immediately.

She snorts. "I wish I wasn't. I'm still really tired. And sore."

"Am I hearing correctly? Is an Argent admitting defeat?"

"Pft. Hardly. It was my first ghost, okay? They're tricky."

"Mhm, and I have a feeling it won't be your last either."

Allison falls silent, his words echoing around the recesses of her mind. She falls back on the bed, grimacing in pain and sighs. "Derek, if I ask you a question will you give me an honest answer?"

"Haven't I always?"

"Yes..?" She pauses and then frowns. "But you sometimes skated around the truth, too, so.."

"I'll answer honestly. Ask."

"Did I make the right choice by staying? Should I even go ba-"

"Absolutely." Allison's startled by Derek's immediate response, but remains quiet so he can continue. "Funnily enough, it was a blessing in disguise that you got paired up with the Winchesters. You should eventually go back to Beacon Hills, but.. Allison.."

"Don't stop now," she muses as he hesitates. "The Derek Hale I remember never shied away from anything."

He sighs over the line. "I know I pushed slightly for you to return right away, but your Dad and the Pack mourned you, and then they moved on with their lives. I just wanna warn you that you shouldn't get your hopes up. You coming back in the first place is miraculous enough and they'll be ecstatic, but you might find that you really don't have a place there anymore."

Her heart aches at Derek's words and as much as she wants to deny them, she knows he has a valid point. It's been years since she's seen the Pack and she does not- will not hold it against them for moving on. She also knows that once they get over the shock that she's actually back, they will be ecstatic to have her back, but she will not let it be at the cost of them disrupting what lives they've built for themselves to make her comfortable in a place that might not be what she remembers.

And as much as it pains her to even think it, she knows for a fact that there's a major possibility that her place might not be with the McCall Pack anymore.