Caffeine mornings frequented them as of late. Long days hung in the air. Vince Vincente roamed the streets and hunts propped up left and right. All in all, they were running low on gas. 6:51am read on the clock and Allie arrived at the side of his bed with a small frown, though the facade of humor quickly replaced it. How much sleep had he gotten? Maybe only a few hours. Still. They had an autopsy to attend and victims to interview.

Her face lined up with his as she bent down, finger reaching out to tickle at his stomach. He'd probably nearly shoot her. "Wakey wakey, Princess." Allie cooed humorously, noting the drool on his pillow. "Dreaming of rainbows and Asian beauties again, are we?"

Dean propped up quickly at the sound of the knees creaking, calloused fingertips rapidly shooting under his pillow at the pistol that lay there. That was, until the timbre of her voice registered to his tired neurons.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite pain in the ass." He stretched his arms over his head, wincing slightly. "I was actually dreaming about a bacon cheeseburger the size of my head. Though the Asian beauties are a close second."

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Dean ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "How much time do we got before we need to be at the coroner's office?" He grabbed his jeans from the chair before pulling them on quickly, eyes glancing up at her with brief intensity, followed by flickering back to their usual expression; a few months since her arrival back from her dirt nap and still he hung back.

A smirk painted across her face, bubbling her left cheek. "Are you telling me that you like having me in your ass?" The blonde stepped back from him and winded back up to a full standing position, hand lingering on her hip. "That's hot." She teased before moving across the room. "Coffee - black. Like our... gothic souls." The java was thrust out to him, noting his outfit change. "Dude - you've been wearing those for three days. Do you know what a washer is?" Damn him for his light wardrobe. Her belongings looked like a month-long vacation in comparison, even now. Worse in her younger twenties. Rather than respond to his inquiry regarding the autopsy, she waited for his retort.

Dean's hands reached out, receiving the cup with a long yawn. Another night this week without well deserved beauty sleep. "You wish, sweetheart." He retorted, taking a long sip and relishing the bitter warmth and sugarless density.

"Hey, these are my lucky jeans. They've got, around, a dozen different kinds of supernatural monster guts woven into 'em. Gives 'em character." He defended, glancing down at the well-worn denim.

Draining the last of the coffee, Dean set the mug aside and grabbed his jacket, shrugging it on. "Alright, let's get this show on the road. Sooner we get this autopsy done, the sooner we can grab some grub. I'm starving."

Their arrival proved... disgusting. The body was butchered beyond recognition. Muscles and tendons were exposed, practically wrapped around skin in a way that seemed infeasible. Sam, as lucky as he was, took research duty back at the bunker. Fucking brainiac. Allie attempted to hide her grimace at the sight, though she could tell some of it seeped through her defenses by Dean's facial expressions towards her. Library. If only she could be at the library with Sam. He was probably eating a salad, enjoying a little bit of music, maybe meditating. Who knew? She lost at the thumb war and rendered them the interviewee's.

Once the body was covered and the specialist walked away to leave them to their 'paperwork', she let out a long breath. "Fuck. John Doe looks like Cujo had a field day," Probably one of the worst they had seen. "I want to rub my eyes out with sandpaper right now."

Dean's face twisted in a grimace as he surveyed the mutilated body, letting out a low whistle. "Damn, that's one ugly son of a bitch." He muttered, shaking his head.

"You regrettin' those out of practice thumbs right 'bout now, Spears?" He continued, familiar banter coming to him effortlessly. Lately she felt… different. Well, not lately. Ever since she crawled out of her early grave and back home to him. Her jokes were more light, flirtatious like they had once been. In a way it all felt like deja-vu. It was odd. Allie's death brought him regrets, want for the past. Yet now that he had it, it felt… wrong.

"Hey! It's not kind to make fun of a woman with late-onset atrophy." There was a… thinness to the joke, though it still came out favorable. "It wasn't thumb day, okay? I've been working on my glutes. Sue me."

With pursed lips he reached out and gave her shoulder a light squeeze, noting the slight difference in tone. "Hey, I know it's rough, but we've seen worse, right? Just gotta power through it." He offered her a lopsided smile, trying to lighten the mood and force off the ill feeling that churned in his chest. "Besides, I hear there's a killer burger joint a few blocks from here. Might help wash the mental images away." Fuck, he was hungry. Even still.

At his mention of a burger, Allie instantly dry-heaved. The audible noise came out in a flurry, stomach spasming at the idea of ground beef and ketchup. "TRASH, TRASH!" Odd... normally she didn't get so... affected. She could practically smell the meat, feel the fumes wafting into her nose and - the smaller woman raced across the room, dropping to her knees as the feeling overwhelmed her with her face instantly in a nearby recycle bin. Pepsi cans were flooded with the oncoming array of black coffee and yesterday's cajun wings.

Green eyes fixated on the blonde as she raced across the room, small form bending over and hurling as if the devil himself coaxed it out of her. He bee-lined quickly, joining her side in concern and… secret questioning. "Whoa, easy there, Al. Take it easy." He murmured, brow furrowed. "Just breathe, okay? I gotcha."

Once the retching seemed to subside, Dean grabbed a nearby paper towel from the counter above and wet it, gently dabbing at her forehead. "You alright? That was...something else." Something else was an understatement. He searched her face, worry etched in his features. "You sure you don't need to sit this one out? I can handle the interviews with Sam. Ask him to drive here."

Her hand was thrust out in silence of his idea towards her sitting things out. Okay... yes, the puking was odd. She couldn't remember the last time she was sick in such a way. The thought of sitting one out irked her. No way. Interviews were her bread and butter, her place amongst their trio of musketeers. Not to mention, Sam was 11 hours away. There was a chance of another victim by then. "No, no... I'm good. Just... needed a sec." Allie held, standing fully to look around the room and pushing her hair back, scrunchie working to tie it up and get it out of her face.

"Let's just go. Rest is for the dead." Her lack of humor held heavy in the air and Allie took a piece of gum from her purse while they exited the room.

"Okay, so John Doe is found in a back alley and things are labeled as a bear attack. I don't know about you, but I don't frequently hear of bears infiltrating Chicago's bar scene." She waited for a second, lips curving into a grin. "Well, not the quadruped kind."

Dean gave her a concerned look, but didn't press the issue further when she insisted on coming along. He could be stubborn, but he knew Allie was just as headstrong. Especially now, almost like she had been during training. There was a time where she was… dejected. Oddly, that time fell right before her death. Well, close behind. Sure they talked about the… mental health of it all, but the night and day change…

"Alright… if you say so. But you let me know the second you need a break, okay?" He spoke slowly, gears in his head working to figure out the adjustment in behavior. The change reminded him of their beginning; the wall that held the two of them apart, her difficulties with vulnerability and trust. Not that he questioned it often back then. Ryan was a piece of shit by all accounts, the reminders constantly pissed him off - and he wasn't even the one that lived through it.

Once they were in the car, Dean couldn't help but chuckle at Allie's quip about the bears. "Yeah, no kidding. I'm thinkin' we're lookin' at something a little more...supernatural than your average Yogi Bear… or…" He mused, deciding against the obvious joke to make, knowing she would understand that he was meeting her halfway. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel to the sound of Thunderstruck in combination with bustling Hondas and Hyundais.

"So, bear attack, huh? My money's on a Rugaru. Those bastards love getting their munch on in urban areas. Could be a werewolf too, I suppose."

Somehow the conversation sounded nearly domestic. Like they were two people having a regular ol' conversation. She supposed that came with the territory. They were both tired and running on fumes. "I don't know... have you ever seen a werewolf attack like that? That guy looked like Wile. E. Coyote dropped an anvil on 'im." Chipped fingernails scratched at her hairline in thought. "Rugaru makes sense, poor impulse control. We haven't seen a ton of them, but they're always fucking gross," A taste for human flesh rarely looked sightly. Not exactly the prettiest cases to track.

"Last victim apparently looked just as fucked up. Ernest Brunson. Older guy." Her left hand propped a newspaper up to him from her research the night before as he slept. Yep, no sleep. Not that he needed to know that. "Neighbors said he was a great guy. Typical elderly gentleman. Kept to himself somewhat, broke a hip two months ago." The most boring description on earth.

Dean glanced over at the newspaper clipping, scanning the details with a furrowed brow. "Huh, well that fits the MO. Rugaru's are usually pretty indiscriminate when it comes to their meals. And poor old Ernest definitely doesn't seem like the type to piss off a bear." He omitted the fact that she had seen few, he had come across plenty in purgatory. Too many to mention, really. Too many of every fucking monster they'd ever forced into… kicking the bucket, so to speak.

He relaxed his fingers on the steering wheel, brow creasing in thought. "Alright, so we're probably looking at a newly-turned Hannibal wannabe. Which means we need to find this guy quick, before the hunger drives him to take out half the neighborhood."

Sparing a sidelong glance at the resident blonde that took up half his goddamn mental focus, his palms twitched with concern. "You sure you're up for this, Alls? I know you said you're good, but you really threw down back there." He noted the bags under her eyes, the paling of her skin. Her cheeks were usually rosy. "Didn't feel you get out of bed this morning," he pressed carefully.

"Dean, I'm fine. I've practically thrown up a lung before. College parties were wild." She de-escalated, keeping him placated as they left the building. In a rush of a lie, Allie kept her composure. "Of course you didn't. You were out like a light. I slept okay, dreamt of Legally Blonde and Paris Hilton from House of Wax." Her eyes landed on anything but him, forming focus on Baby as the Impala came into their view. His footsteps beside her seemed to echo in her ears, a subconscious guilt from lying in an effort not to worry him. Sleep came seldom since her arrival back. The bunker simply felt strange to her, overwhelming. Most nights she stayed up and read as much as she could in the library, then retired to the spot next to him with little actual rest. She simply listened to his labored breathing, focused entirely on the fact that she was alive, and that could be short… lived. What if tomorrow was the last time? What if in Baby, right now, was the last? They could step out of the four-wheeled shelter and hit a strange patch of water, or the Rugaru could catch them off-guard an-

The twitch. The tug. Within the nape of her it pulled aggressively and from it, the birth of sudden relaxation - a warmth that spread through her shoulders and into her lower back.

She changed the subject quickly. "We should start with the Newmans. They lived next door to Ernest. They didn't say shit about a bear, did hear the screaming though. Their kid was woken up." That bred sympathy in her. What a traumatic event for a child to view.

Dean eyed her skeptically, not fully convinced by her casual dismissal of the incident. But he knew Allie well enough to know when to push and when to back off. This was clearly one of those times to tread lightly.

"Alright, if you say so." He conceded, eyes taking sight of the road in an attempt to fight off the concern that gnawed at him. "Guess we'll start with the neighbors then. Maybe the kid saw something that could help point us in the right direction."

"Just...don't hesitate to tell me if you need to take a breather, okay? I know how stubborn you can be, but I'd rather you be honest with me." His tone was gentle, laced with the underlying worry he felt for his… friend. As if that word could encapsulate the feelings at all.

"Allie…" Dean pressed while silence filled the cabin, a familiar trait of hers when no agreement was found.

The quiet continued and Alice stared out the passenger side window for a moment. There was a strange urge to become sensitive with him, a need that grew beneath her skin and bubbled like a foreign disease unknown to man. Somehow, though, the words wouldn't come out of her throat. Her mouth opened, not in protest, but in understanding.

Yet nothing came.

Nude lips closed again and a small shake of her head to reorient herself from an almost dizzying feeling that populated quickly. Just as fast, it was gone.

"Yeah, sorry. I'll let you know." The blonde spoke absentmindedly, blue eyes focused on the passing sidewalk and though not viewing the humans that walked by.

"And then what happened?" A soft tone floated through the room of a small bungalow. Blue walls held posters of Minecraft, Lego, model cars. All average indications of a young boy.

and he was young

too young.

He was tense, obviously uncomfortable with the questioning and how to translate the experience into words. Small hands played at the carpet where they sat together with crossed legs. The Newmans remained downstairs, completely trusting of the badges that had been presented to them upon entering. "We have to speak to him alone, just preliminary proceedings," their consistent cycle made such lies easy.

"It's alright, Jacob. We're here to help. Nothing that you'll say will leave this room, okay?" Allie spoke with understanding, scooting a bit closer to give an air of privacy to their conversation. "You know, agent DeYoung really likes old cars. Right, agent?" Sky eyes folded up to Dean from the floor with a gentle smile.

Dean's hands found his dress pants, rubbing at them for a moment before clasping together and moving to the model vehicles on display. "Yeah, I like to go fast sometimes." He echoed her sentiments with a small grin. "You'd love my ride, bud. Smooooth steering, leather seats, pretty girls..." The kid didn't look too young. Maybe 13. 13... ha. That brought him back to what his thoughts had been like. Dean purposely let his gaze fall back onto Allie at the pretty girls portion, hoping to ease Jake in opening up more. They lingered a little long, taking in the fully vulnerable expression that appeared to only fully come out whenever she was around kids. "Betcha can't wait until your 16, huh? Sweet freedom."

"What kind of car is it?"

"It's a classic. I don't share my trade secrets, though. Unless I trust ya'."

The air in the room rapidly changed, replaced with consideration before Jacob spoke. "He was in the backyard. He used to play cards with me. I'm not very good at them, so we played Go Fish a lot." The words came out in a small squeak, as if fighting while being formatted for consumption. "I... I looked out my window and..." There was a pause and Jacob looked down once again at the carpet.

Go Fish.

The reference hit her like a ton of bricks.

"Fine. No, I don't have any aces. Do you have any 7's?"

Her father's voice came clear as a bell. Her father... her father. The tugging, the grip that shred and sank into the base of her skull. Foreign disease, crippling ache that burrowed deep into her skin. The warmth, the heat did not protrude down into her throat and throughout her chest. Lungs flew on fire while the understanding of what was and what could never be licked and lapped behind her eyes. The coffee cup that splattered onto the floor of hospital tile roamed freely into her mind and he was there, hooked to machines and jaundiced from his body failing due to the bullet lodged in his fucking mazard.

Her mother, ripe with cancer and releasing shaky breaths that grew larger each visit. Goodbye, grand goodbye to the woman that had raised her and worked multiple jobs! She was inconsiderate not once, but twice. How could someone make the same mistake over and over and never learn! She took everyone in her life for granted, everything she ever gripped in her dense hands was a failure on her part. Never respected enough, never grateful enough, always taking in comparison to what they gave and if only she cou-

Finally the warmth. It spread slower than usual, tingling comfort into her belly and down sensitive legs - straight through her feet and to the floor. Her eyes fluttered slowly, a high of wonderful proportions. Thank God, thank Heaven for all that is glory and profound! The pain was quickly forgotten, as if nothing had happened at all.

Dean's face shot quickly to her, now lost in the small queues Allie released. He learned the small mannerisms, the way the nerve under her left eye twitched before she cried, the tug performed at loose sleeves or hems of of suit blazers from their disguises. Go Fish. As soon as the words came out of Jacob's mouth, he knew. He knew and what the actual fuck was happening today? Her getting strangely sick, now this? Did they drink water laced with a Witch's curse? Maybe a trip to Rowena was on the near horizon.

But just as fast as it came, her features took on a blissful state of tepid pleasure.

"Agent Strode... what do you think?" He spoke in morse code, attempting not to alert the kid that sat nearby.

Allie sharply turned back to Jacob with a serene smile. "You like Go Fish? I like Go Fish. Do you wanna play?" Wide smile, nearly unnerving in a way. At least to Dean. Alice, however, kept strong in her proposition, seemingly uncaring of the moment that had just occurred.

"Okay!" Jacob suddenly grew excited, leaping to his feet to rummage through a nearby bin and returned with playing cards. They were marked, obviously old and almost able to be retired. Almost.

The eventual game that ensued created lighthearted speaking between the two of them. "It wasn't a bear. I've seen bears on National Geographic." Another indication that bears? In Chicago? As if.

"So then... what do you think it was?" Allie moved the cards around in her hands, rummaging as if to distract him.

"It was... a man."

"A man? Why do you think that?"

"I think I've seen him before. Well, saw him. Maybe. but... But..."

"You've seen him?"

"I think so. But, he was..."

"It's okay, Jacob."

The cards were lowered and Allie reached out to place a tender hand on his shoulder, feeling the weight as it released and the tiny shivers of anxiety that roamed through a small and, supposed to be, innocent body. "It was scary, wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

"DeYoung and I are here to make sure that it doesn't happen again, that everyone is safe."

"He... ate Mr. Brunson."

"We need to talk about what happened in there, Allie!" Deans voice pummeled through Baby with expert proximity. "What's with... this?!" Large hands gestured at her in the passenger seat. His mind finally coming to a head in terms of his own confusion towards her actions, her rapid disposition changes, her sickness. It wasn't that he wanted to get frustrated with her, simply that he was unsure of how to approach the topic while on their ever shortening time crunch until the Rugaru obtained another midnight feast of long pig.

"Excuse me?! What is that supposed to mean?!" She retorted, head whipping to look at him head on. "We needed Jacob to talk, I got him to talk!" The blonde defended with fingers that plucked at the threaded out seams of her undershirt, now divested of the blazer that she had worn only minutes ago. Her badge was still in hand.

"You know what I'm talking about!" He pursued, unable to drop the topic in fear of her safety. What if something happened while they approached the target?! What if she went all... ghost girl?

"I don't actually! That's why I'm asking you!" Her voice met his heightening, their small bickering bouncing wildly into each others faces.

Dean sat for a moment, quieting down. He had to be understanding. There was probably a mourning moment involved, potentially the first he saw in her since her resurgence. One minute he was wanting the old her back, the next he complained about it. Though... the sudden bliss was worrisome. "Look, Alls, Something happened back there. You were sick this morning and then..." His eyes shifted before he ran tired palms over his face. "I'm worried about you, Allie." The words were a bit of a struggle to get out, mainly because they had a job to do and the last thing either of them needed was to get in a long, drawn out fight.

The care quieted her down somewhat. The only thing that could come from her was a shy "I know," while she pursed her lips and released her hair from it's ponytail confinement. "I'm just... still figuring things out, I guess. It's been... weird. Rough," A kind palm moved over to him, grazing his cheek in loving reverence. "I'm sorry. It was just the Go Fish. I miss my dad." Hopefully, nothing else would need to be said. Maybe he'd drop it at the sound. She wasn't sure. Allie had a feeling that an inability to offer much more awaited them. Missing her dad? The admittance struggled to come out, as if such a thing was frying her brain like an egg. The effort rendered beautiful though, the confession came.

He sighed, head placed back again the leather bench. Odd to think that it had been such a short time for her since Bobby's death. For him it had been over five long years, nearly the same amount as her disappearance from his life as well. He'd seen too much in that time, become a monster and in ways... still felt like one. Dean could recall a time when he felt good enough for her, like... they had a chance. Now the nastier, disgusting parts of him saw moments of light and rendered him useless in some form. Purgatory, The Mark... he painted whole ass armies red. Almost acted like Crowley's demon bitch boy, though apparently even his demonic self gave that a fatass no.

But a sweeping need to console her came. Not the man he used to be, no. He needed to be better, even if that proved difficult. Fuck. Don't say something stupid. Don't act like an ass. Say something nice, caring. Words. Allie enjoys nice words. "You have all of the great parts of Bobby." Dean spoke honestly, hand reaching over instinctively to brush some hair out of her face and smooth the rosing back in to her porcelain cheeks. "I miss him too, blondie." The offer was meant to be reassurance, that she wasn't alone in the suffering of grief. Sure he put himself together every morning, but fuck it was tough some days. The grind of the road kept him lethal and skilled, but haunted. For five years he lived as a shell of the man he used to be. "But I get you back. I can't have everything, but I fuckin' got you." And that was enough, even if he didn't say it.

The feeling of sweet hearth at her cheek illuminated her, natural peace forged back inside of her and Allie involuntarily tuned herself into his touch, subconscious want ever present below her aching form. Their eyes connected and in the forest green of stability came her calm serenity. The ache at her skull, the flood in her stomach retreated into an organic neutral. "Let's gank this motherfucker, then get some actual sleep." Soft smile and Allie spoke with a gentle demeanor, a rapid change from her prior defensiveness.

"You didn't sleep last night, did you?" He came a bit closer, keys in hand but dangling without turning on the engine. Five more minutes. The job loomed, but five more minutes. That's it.

"No."

"Why did you lie to me, Al? You know that gets to me."

"I didn't want you to worry."

"Tell me next time."

"Okay."

With that, the engine roared to life and tires flared against the paved road. When Allie looked through the passenger window, Jacob was standing at his window holding the X-Men curtains open. She smiled and nodded, holding up 7 with her fingers in reference to their one and only Go Fish game, but a memorable one. The curtain wasn't closed. Instead, he disappeared into the side mirror, fading into the background.