A crescent moon hung over them, black exterior moving through the evening. The trio rarely pulled all-nighters. They may have been hunters, but alas, they were still human and needed rest.
Allie recovered from the concussion well. That was a month prior. A month where she pleaded and prodded about rejoining the search for John, mainly in a strange means of avoiding boredom. Restlessness came easy, tugging at her feet until there was no choice but to assert herself back into the journey, no matter Bobby's wariness.
Sam sat in the passenger side, large body leaning lazily against the door with his cheek resting against the joining. Long mornings fell into long days, which became afternoons, and then a nightmarish 3am. The witching hour grew familiar, though not a reprieve. He often found himself turning ever prevalent nightstand clocks around to avoid the truth, preferring to stay awake rather than hear the blatant echoes of - HER -. The burning in his head nearly rivaled the original fire. Nearly.
And as of this day, in particular, the hours of travel gave him time to ponder. Their initial pick-up of Allie brought unease, but Dean was Dean and he had his own intentions. It wasn't that she wasn't helpful. Truly, far from. The frequent assistance was actually surprising considering the lack of experience, but she nearly died. Potentially by a matter of minutes.
Why would she choose to live this life? Hunting didn't exactly lean itself to simple pleasures. Getting to know Allie had taught Sam a decent amount about her. She was intelligent (Though seemed to unconsciously mask it) and driven. Pretty, but also independent. Alice could have a good life. She could be successful with a career and a family easily. So why stick with them?
"You sure you don't want me to drive?" he asked softly, glancing over at Dean who was focused on navigating through backroads to save a bit of time. "You look like you're thinking about something."
Dean shook his head, focusing on the road ahead as he drove. "Nah, I'm good," he replied, trying to shake off the strange mix of emotions swirling inside him. It was true that Allie had been through a lot with them recently; she deserved some rest after all they'd been through together. He and Sammy… they'd been killin' shit nearly their entire lives, holdin' a .45 by middle school. The word 'acclimated' didn't begin to cover their perspectives.
The more that he got to know her... the more that he worried. Hunting was no place for dreams of living an extended, fruitful life. Once you were in you were in. No one got out of this life. No one.
Not to mention, a small part of him grew insecure due to his…infrequent close relations with women. Really, most of his extended connections were family. He practically slept with every woman that hung around him for more than 72 hours, even as a teenager. Some would call the whole thing routine. Enter a town, save the girl, girl's thankful, pipe until morning and then hit the road again.
And had he ever thought of more? No. Dad needed a son, not a hunting dropout. There were people to save. The life gave no sway to long-term. In fact, Cassie proved to be the only relationship that he ever had. High school didn't count, if those were actual 'relationships' at all. Even Cassie lasted a meager few months.
The sound of Allie's soft breathing filled the backseat as she slept. Season of the Witch played in the car, and strangely sang out like a lullaby. With all they had been through... she found herself caring about the Winchesters. They were important to her. It felt like she belonged somewhere when the trio operated together. Gentle and content sounds came from her as she dreamt in the backseat, small purrs of satisfaction while the stars loomed over them.
Sam turned back at the sound of Allie's gentle snores, watching as her chest rose and fell with each breath. She looked so peaceful in that moment; a sight rarely witnessed over the past few months. He glanced over at Dean out of the corner of his eye, noticing how he still seemed lost in thought behind the wheel despite their conversation only moments prior.
"You okay?" he asked quietly in fear of waking the sleeping swan behind them. Every once in a while, a bit of jealousy swirled inside of his gut over the fact that Dean and Allie had grown so close while he was at Stanford. In a way, it felt like he had missed out. Growing up they hadn't exactly gotten chances to have meaningful friendships. One minute they were in a new town, the next they were gone. Dean never gave much attention to anyone outside of him, the newfound aspect of their brotherhood was still… a current adjustment.
"Surprised you haven't..." Sam stopped himself, eyes glancing back and forth between Dean and Allie. "Never mind."
Dean glanced over at Sam, raising an eyebrow in question. "Surprised I haven't what?" He asked warily, his mind immediately going to the worst possible place. Well, not the worst. Just simply off limits, considering he mentored her and above all else, Allie was Bobby's daughter. That ol' grump would put a bullet in him if they ever… "I mean...yeah," he admitted with a shrug, trying not to think about how close they were getting or how much he enjoyed her company. It was dangerous territory; something he had sworn off long ago when their mother died and left them alone together. Sammy would always be the priority. No matter what. Above all else, always.
Allie was his friend. That was it. Well, not just his friend. His... student? The word seemed juvenile compared to what he was teaching her to do. It's not like he was some fucking gym teacher or something. He was showing her how to kill things, evil things.
Sam nodded, understanding the unspoken tension between them. "Yeah," he agreed, looking out at the passing hidden trees as they drove towards their destination.
"You know," he said after a moment, turning back to face his brother, "I don't think I've ever seen you have an actual friend before."
Dean's eyes widened in surprise, turning to face Sam with a raised eyebrow. "What the hell does that mean?" He asked defensively, his tone sharper than intended. "I have friends," he protested too quickly, thinking of all the people they had saved along their journey who would probably vouch for him if called upon. But none of them were like Allie; she understood him on a level no one else did — not even Sam sometimes. Sam was… well, chick flick moments. His brother attempted to open conversation when none needed to be had. Going through the motions, that was the easiest and preferred setting. All the touchy-feely crap bubbled up things that didn't need to be thought about.
Sam held up his hands in a placating gesture, chuckling. "I didn't mean it like that," he said, shaking his head. "What I meant was... you know how we always joke about me being the brains and you being the muscle? You never really had anyone who sees both sides of you." He glanced over at Allie again before returning his gaze to Dean. "You know, someone who gets your dumb jokes and can also talk about... stuff." Well, in a way that Dean responded to at least. That was no easy feat. Allie seemed to know when to hold back and when to speak her mind. Funnily enough, she also didn't let Dean get away with shit. A skill that Sam greatly appreciated.
Dean thought about that for a moment, his expression softening slightly. Sam had a point; he'd always been more comfortable with the hunt and women who didn't ask too many questions or stick around long enough to see beyond the charming facade he wore like armor. But Allie was different— she saw through it all and still chose to be there for them both. And constantly cussed him out.
"Yeah," he finally admitted reluctantly, taking another glance at her peaceful form in the backseat before returning his focus to the road ahead. "I guess you do have a point."
After another hour, a choice was made to pull over at the nearest motel. He could have gone later, farther, but Sam insisted on the 'three' of them getting some sleep. Bullshit. Sam barely slept.
When Dean turned back to look, Allie was deep asleep. "I'll carry her inside." Seemed the best option. They were going to sleep anyway, right? Why wake her up when she'd probably be all grouchy and toss around for hours beside him. Yeah, turn and wiggle. He noticed, but the conversation… another time, maybe.
Sam nodded, following Dean to the room they had rented for the night.
"You know... I think you're right about something else too." Sam referenced a topic that the boys had shared in private after defeating the spirit that haunted their childhood home in Kansas; one that closed far too soon.
Dean raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Oh yeah? What's that?" He asked warily, not sure if he was ready to hear whatever Sam had to say next.
Sam took a deep breath, looking down at the floor before meeting Dean's gaze. "I think... I think we should tell her about our past," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper as if afraid of what it might unleash. "That's what I wanted to talk about, before. She deserves to know who she's getting involved with."
Unbeknownst to Sam, Dean had already told her everything. So had Bobby. That's why they were so close. There didn't appear to be any judgment, not one mark of disgust. At the time, he found the reaction strange. She just… took it all in. Nodded. Then they… kept going. Back to the status quo.
Dean's eyes narrowed in suspicion, immediately going on the defensive. "And what makes you think she wants to know?" He asked sharply, crossing his arms over his chest protectively. Despite everything they had been through together - the demons and monsters, the loss of their mother and Jessica - there were still parts of himself he kept hidden from even Sam; how could he expect Allie to understand? Even if she knew the basics, that didn't mean needing to dive into a therapy session over their shitty upbringings and how John had... whatever.
"She likes us for who we are now," Dean sighed and ran his hand through his short hair. "She already knows pretty much everything, Sam. You missed a lot."
Sam's eyes widened, feeling a pang of hurt at Dean's words. "What do you mean she knows everything?" He asked hesitantly, taking a step forward to confront his brother more directly.
"You told her about... about dad?" His voice rose with each question as he tried to process the idea that Allie knew so much and they had kept it from him all this time. He didn't know how to feel about it. Why would she help them find John while knowing what kind of father John was? Aside from that, the story wasn't just Dean's to tell. It took two to tango. All this time, he hid from everyone - all of the inner workings, the grimy secrets of their upbringings and the abandonment. "Our lives?"
Dean rolled his eyes, shrugging nonchalantly. "Yeah," he said dismissively, trying to play it off like it was no big deal when in reality it had been a huge moment for him — the first time someone truly understood what they'd gone through without judging them or running away screaming. "She knows about our past with Dad, and everything else." He glanced over at Allie again before turning back to Sam. "Look, she gets us. She accepts us as we are now. That's all that matters." Dean thought for a moment. "Her mom wasn't a walk in the park. So." He didn't want to give too much away without Allie's okay.
Sam couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions - relief that Dean had finally found someone who understood him, jealousy at the bond they shared, and confusion about why Allie would want to be involved in their dangerous world or assist them in finding their neglectful and abusive father. He knew she was strong-willed and capable, but the truth was the truth. They were separate from everyone else. Allie potentially knew things that Sam gave no consent to.
"I just... I don't know," he said, running a hand through his hair before looking back over at Allie once more and deciding to keep his mouth shut on his own distaste for his life story being told before he even knew her. "She deserves better than this life." He knew what the life did to people; what it did to their father and had begun doing to Dean.
Dean shook his head, stepping forward to clap Sam on the shoulder reassuringly. "She knows what she's getting into," he said firmly, trying not to let apprehension creep in at how much Allie meant to them both. "Look, we all do." He glanced over at her again before turning back towards Sam with a grin. "We protect each other and save people too; it ain't all bad."
Sam sighed, knowing Dean was right. They did save people and they had each other in the end. At least they had a family. But the thought of Allie being involved in their messed up lives still didn't sit well with him. She deserved normalcy; she deserved a life where her biggest worry wasn't whether or not she would wake up alive tomorrow morning. "I guess you're right," he finally relented, nodding his head in defeat. There was no use attempting to fight with Dean, especially not lately. They were butting heads like crazy, too involved in their respective opinions. Dean was inexplicably focused on the hunt, on doing what their father wanted. All Sam cared about - finding their dad. Why keep fucking stopping at every small town they saw? Yeah, helping people, alright. If they helped everyone - who would help them? What if they showed up too late? "We should probably let her rest though."
Dean nodded in agreement, his eyes lingering on Allie for a moment longer than he probably should before turning away. "Yeah," he agreed, moving towards the bed and flopping down face-first onto it with an exaggerated groan of exhaustion. "I'm beat myself." He knew that wasn't entirely true; adrenaline usually kept him going long after they had finished hunting but today was different - sure the driving hadn't been tough, but Sam's nightmares and lack of true rest still weighed heavy on his mind. As an older brother, he was failing. His one job and all he could do was watch as Sam tore himself up over Jessica's death.
It should have been him declaring that they stop for the night. But, of course, the hunt took over - the need to be both a good son, and a good brother. His mistakes became grave. Didn't help that he always fucking made them, either. A disaster of a soldier, a dick of an older brother.
On hunts he shared the bed with Allie. A protection thing. Yeah, just for protection. He'd never put the weight on Sam to take care of her. What if something broke in? She'd gotten better, but still not the best shot in the world. Not as good as them, at least. They couldn't get two rooms and deep down, he wouldn't anyway. Not with her being Bobby's. Bobby fucking took care of them, he practically raised them, played ball with him for the first time. What kind of family was he, if he didn't spend morning, noon, and night making sure that the hunt didn't leave Bobby as a Vilomah?
Sam nodded, heading towards his own bed. As he lay down on the lumpy mattress, his mind raced with thoughts of Jess; her smile, her laughter, the little shorts that she wore for bed, the way her skin felt like silk. At night she used shea butter, would get all lotioned up and move around their bedroom with a sensuality that brought him to his knees at the edge of their mattress.
He tried to clear his head, focusing instead on the sound of Allie's soft breathing as it filled the small motel room to center himself. He managed to actually fall asleep, his mind filled with nightmares of HER— like usual. True rest never occurred anymore.
Allie stirred and shifted closer to Dean. Normally they didn't cuddle but her sleepy stupor made her bold. She snuggled up to his side and rested her head on the edge of his arm. The feeling of being against someone - even in her near sleep - it warmed. Physical touch turned foreign over the years. Sure, sometimes Dean and her had…moments, times where they acted like idiots. Touching though? Unless they were teasing one another with shoves, nudges - well, they simply both struggled with any sort of open affection.
"Mmmm..." she hummed in contentment. "Night," The word was barely coherent from her exhausted state. She made a small yawn and nuzzled into his bicep with her nose.
Dean's heart paused for a beat as Allie snuggled up to him, his body automatically responding with heat and comfort. Her breath barely registered against his chest, but it was there. The shock of it caused his nerves to pulse under thickened flesh. No matter what, Allie barely offered up touch. In fact, anything physical with another person appeared to dissuade her. He stopped every once in a while, got with girls, acted like a jerk; mainly in terms of how he gave her the worst lines on earth. Allie was practice, kind of. For other women. Was that bad? But in all their time together, he hadn't seen her flirt once with a guy that wasn't some sort of target for them, or as a form of manipulation. Not even a one-night stand.
Now she was like a little kitten curling up next to him; innocent yet fierce when needed. "Night," he whispered back, his arm carefully adjusting its way under her pillow, accepting the proximity without any real thought. It didn't move, didn't caress, just held there. The physical aspect was nice actually. Not exactly... sexual. The hold was respectful, even, while his hand rested on her shoulder.
In the morning she awoke to find Sam was already awake. He was distressed, obviously. He had been since Jessica's death; not that she could blame him.
She crawled out of Dean's arms gently, taking a quick look to confirm that he was still asleep while she extracted herself.
"Sam?" She whispered so as to not wake the older Winchester. "...You okay? More nightmares?" She questioned before getting up to join him on the other bed, stifling a yawn. "How much did you sleep?"
Sam looked up at Allie, a haunted void sat behind the gaze of hazel eyes. "Yeah," he nodded in response to her question about being okay. "Not much," he admitted with a sigh, rubbing his face wearily before sitting up on the edge of the bed. "I'm... I dunno." Struggling. The appropriate word would be struggling but unable to verbalize what the struggle felt like. This pain was not like losing Mary. Mary died when he was a baby. Jessica died when he was so close to... to…
She took a seat next to him on the bed and placed her still-tired hand on the bed next to him. Sure, they weren't quite touching, but the sentiment was there. A silence washed over them. Nothing much could be said. A friend around who cared. "It'll get better, Sam." But she knew that fact didn't help right now. "It wasn't your fault. Just like Dean said when we fought Bloody Mary," She knew that Sam was racked with guilt. "You're only human, Sam."
Sam closed his eyes. Her words washed over him like a cool breeze on a hot summer day; they were familiar ones but somehow, hearing them from her made all the difference. He knew she meant every word she said, that she truly believed it deep down in her heart. "Thanks," he finally managed to whisper, turning towards her with the look of a man dejected, lost. "You almost died." Like Jess. It was his fault. He should have known. Normalcy would never come for him. He had been a fool for trying. "From the shifter."
Sam was kind and gentle. She liked that about him. Allie released a soft sigh, blue eyes gazing up at him beneath her lashes. "Sam, if something ever happens to me it won't be because of you or Dean." She was a hunter now. Like them. "I chose this. To me, it's worth it. Don't put that on your shoulders," Her hand reached out and rubbed his knee, a tiny act of understanding. "You're so sweet. But don't worry about me, okay? Right now you need to take care of yourself. I'll help."
"I know you're right," he finally admitted reluctantly. "We need to focus on finding Dad." Diving into the pain would only hurt more, right? At least he had some sort of a support system, though it didn't replace the feeling of being loved.
Dean stirred in his sleep, sensing the shift in energy as Sam and Allie spoke. His eyes opened slowly, blinking several times before he fully woke up to find her hand resting on Sam's knee, their faces close together in a moment of understanding and support. He felt something twist inside him— He pushed those thoughts aside, blaming it on the distant insecurity that lived inside of him. Clearing his throat, he announced his waking. At the bricks - her growing closer to Sam made sense. Both educated, more than his GED, both younger than him, both… everything. Every single thing that he was not. "Morning."
Allie's eyes shifted to take in Dean's early morning aesthetic. Admittedly, he looked cute when he woke up. It was like a kid being forced to get ready for school. "Morning sleeping beauty. Get up. It's already 8am we need to hit the road." He was usually one to protest. She walked over to their bed, gripped the duvet, and ripped it off of him. "I need coffee. Get up or I'll make you." Her treatment of the two boys was vastly different. Dean, in a way, received the short end of the stick. Only because her actions directly correlated with her ease in their… unique friendship.
Dean groaned, rolling onto his side and groping for the bedside table where he knew his cigarettes were kept. He lit one up with shaking hands, taking a deep drag before exhaling a cloud of smoke in her direction. "You're bossy," he grumbled good-naturedly, sitting up slowly and stretching out his stiff muscles. "I guess I could use some coffee myself."
Allie waved her hands in her face and ripped the cigarette out of Dean's mouth. "Don't smoke in here! Are you nuts?! You'll make the alarm go off!" She knew he was doing it as payback, a method of malicious compliance.
Allie held the cigarette between her fingers for a few seconds. God she hadn't had one in so long. "Fuck you, this is mine now!" Over time their bickering had become kind of a weird love language. She placed the cigarette between her lips and walked out the door, intent on smoking it and leaving him headfirst in nic withdrawal.
Dean glared at her over the smoke-filled room, but a small smirk tugged at the very corner of his lips. "That woman's gonna be the end of me," Sarcasm came out clear as a bell before he climbed out of bed and joined Sam in getting dressed for their next adventure. Okay, duffel prep, then a new cigarette, then coffee and breakfast.
In the time it took for them to come downstairs, Allie had already gotten dressed in the Impala. She was pretty good at impromptu changes. It was hot as hell outside. She transitioned into a white tank top and denim shorts, an outfit that wasn't typical for her wardrobe but the heat had forced her into denim. Weirdly, the job pushed changes into her closet. Dresses and skirts thinned out for pants. Fucking jeans. The devil in a sense of basic fashion. "Ah! The gruesome twosome finally makes an entrance. Or... exit? Depending on how you see it." She dangled the car keys from her fingers. "Coffee coffee coffee!" She twirled on her heels in front of them.
Sam took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering fog of sleep and guilt as he stepped outside into the blistering heat. The sun was already high in the sky, casting harsh light over the parking lot where Allie stood twirling like some carefree ballerina. All that morning energy could make anyone smile. Coffee. As if the petite and rambunctious woman actually needed it. "Coffee would hit the spot," a sizable hand reached out for the passenger side door. "You sure you need some, though? Looks like you slept pretty well."
Dean followed Sam out of the motel, squinting against the bright sunlight as he took in Allie's cheerful dance. The morning air was thick and humid, it was in his throat and dried out his esophagus nearly instantly. Allie's antics brought a groan from him, a fake show of annoyance before he approached and leaned against the side of Baby's hood. "I'm not letting you drive - You're gonna get us killed," he teased, taking the keys from her hand and unlocking the Impala's doors for their next stop - Burkitsville, Indiana.