Life.
Death.
Surviving.
Choices contained in a random bubble that exponentially turned in a grand expanse. To most people that could have been terrifying— the idea of conception followed by a series of meaningless decisions and finally... the end. Millions of years of evolution only to be alive for a few decades and then fade beneath the ground. If you were lucky you got flowers and maybe a chance to say goodbye before the world kept on turning.
But to her? It was comforting. Choices meant freedom and freedom meant growth and renewal.
Allie had found her father after years of searching. He wasn't an easy man to find. Made sense. If one were to look in the grizzled hunter's home they would probably run— and keep running.
Yet she stayed there.
Frankly, where else would she go? Other people were too busy chasing silver in hopes of finding gold. Gold to her was being right there with someone who hadn't been around for a long time. A figure that represented hope and renovation. Something desperately needed. Deserved. The loss of her mother had bred a sort of… delay in cognisance. The world proved vapid and although it inched and wormed around her, she felt void. The lust of desiring open landscapes and anything other than a fucking grey hospital room consumed her. Wires sat eerily behind her eyelids - the vision of incoming death. Those moments were a plague that often became pushed down behind a winning smile, pearly teeth on full display from her youthful stint in braces.
By and large, her college years had tainted her. One minute she was witnessing the black mass take her mother, the next she was somehow still bright - still full of want. She could roam those same halls in scrubs, taking care of the next victim of life's cruelest intentions - mortality. Just a few years of university and then others would feel her kind touch, warm handles cradling their hearts as their bodies withered and faded; their families held in an understanding embrace.
Life had other schemes. Seventeen rolled by in the blink of an eye and soon 19 reared its head and in its sharp grasp, Ryan.
Bobby Singer was not the easiest man to get along with. He was weathered. Life hadn't exactly given him the cream of the crop. Although it could be perceived as bad, it was how they initially bonded. Tragic orphan and surrogate father to many - no longer a surrogate. The day she showed up on his doorstep and told him the truth... neither of them had ever experienced such peace before. They both needed something and they got it, even if it was unspoken.
When Bobby had told her of Dean Winchester his description was... ideal. Almost too much so. It's like her father wouldn't say a damn bad thing about the boy. Maybe in fear that she'd flee. After all, she had grown close with her recently retrieved biological dad. That was certainly due to her own desire for a fatherly figure, one that had never been experienced, a symptom of her mother's inability to hold lasting relationships. A drop in a bucket that had been filling for 22 years.
Allie was standing in the kitchen when the front door opened. The sound of boots thundering down the hallway made her teeth grind. Bobby had gone out in search of auto parts for the yard. How was he back already? That was only twenty minutes prior. The sheen of wet floorboards and the smell of Pine-sol nearly covered up the scent of fresh mud, nearly.
"Dad! I just mopped! Are you—" The blonde stopped as he entered her viewpoint. Blue eyes hardened on his appearance. It must have been him. He was exactly as her father had described. Though, covered in shit and God knew what else. Dirt littered worn jeans, looking as though they hadn't seen a washing machine since their mechanical birth.
"My dad's not home." Allie was more than comfortable talking considering it felt like she already knew the man. Her head nodded towards a photo on Bobby's bookcase of a youthful Dean to insinuate she understood who he was.
Dean Winchester strode through his uncle's home with little true purpose, days were usual - though somewhat adventurous. A man on his own! Flavor of the wild nipping at his heels, independence from all. His hair was tousled, unkempt from the rain that misted lightly outside and his slight stumble up the steps from the wet wood. The worn leather jacket that covered his torso signified the end of a hunt, an impromptu arrival personified in his comfort within the house. His striking green eyes took in the sight of a blonde within the Singer walls. Bobby had spoken of Alice more than once. Each time the description became bolder, more ingrained in an obvious way to intrigue the young hunter. Maybe an effort to bring him back, considering his… sometimes petulant attitude when Bobby checked in.
And he hadn't lied. Dean's eyes roamed over the bombshell with barely masked intent. Tight jeans encased a rather plump ass and stopped right at the apex of wide, tantalizing hips. The familiar urge to flirt came out, a need to turn on the charisma. The feeling was one the boy was all too acquainted with. She was hot, and he was… him.
"Well, well, well," he drawled, his voice rumbling - though light in an effort to sway her in it's theatrics, a mimicking of old Cowboys. "If it isn't Little Miss Sunshine herself." He flashed her an irresistible charming smile, revealing his perfect set of whites and dimples so damn sexy they could make even Satan himself weak at the knees. A common trope of his to woo women, well, he thought the expression would do so. 60 percent of the time, it worked every time.
Right off the bat, Allie could tell that her father had inappropriately hyped up the man in front of her. Ocean irises traced over his frame. "I see you're original." Miss sunshine? Yes. She was blonde. Strength was focused on not rolling her eyes. This wasn't a random man. It was a man that Bobby desperately cared for. She'd have to be delicate with her responses. Alice generally was not favorable toward men. Though, that disposition was rightly earned - or so she thought.
He was attractive but it seemed he had learned to rely on that. Allie certainly caught glimpses from many men. Blonde with blue eyes? One would mistake her for a siren. An hourglass figure didn't hurt, but after puberty it became tiring to constantly be the unrequested center of attention. Well, usually unrequested. Thank God she was pretty, all the thrills - none of the devotion.
Allie grinned as she noticed a slight folding at the crotch in his pants, indicative of the male weakness. A prime opportunity for some mocking. "Is that a gun or are you just happy to see me?" Ironic. He was definitely packin' heat. Her tone was suggestively teasing. It was a weapon and she knew it but cocky men were fun to play with, not to mention… what could be done back? Her father may have been a grump, but he was her grump - and damn protective at that.
Dean chuckled at her teasing remark, his eyes never leaving hers in an effort to create some sort of restrained intimacy. "Now now," he retorted, taking a step closer to her.
"I think it might be both," he replied with a wicked grin, reaching down and adjusting himself subtly through his jeans. Though he did hope she would catch the action and see it as an invite, even if nothing could happen. His voice dropped low as he continued speaking softly so only she could hear him. Bobby would surely kill him if he heard, but the hunt gave him an edge - a silent need for exposure and release. Sometimes things were too easy and left him… pent up, like a Coke bottle with mentos in it. "But if it's any consolation, sweetheart... I always pack heat." He took another step closer until they were standing mere inches apart; close enough for him to feel the warmth radiating off her shapely body. He could be confident when he wanted to be. Not that he was entirely serious. A line would have to be drawn and only using his words. If he touched her he didn't want to experience Bobby's wrath, that rage knew no bounds when incited. He'd only witnessed it briefly in the past, generally aimed at his dear ol' dad.
The entertainment of the situation caused a smirk to curve across pink lips. He obviously thought it would be easy to win her. No courting? Funny. "That's cute.Bobby didn't tell me you were just hitting puberty. Lots of bad-time boners, huh?" She unapologetically laughed out loud at her own ruthless teasing before she turned away from him. Was it strange to say such things to someone you had just met? Probably, but Alice was damn prickly under the surface and this guy... she'd met plenty like him before. Best to keep a considerable distance, both emotionally and physically. Usually they backed off when a woman became, as many said, 'bitchy'.
"So... are you gonna tell me why you're here or... just try to get in my pants with terrible lines?" Honey blonde waves were thrown over her shoulder in the act of turning back to the counter with a rag to continue cleaning. Bobby's home was the epitome of a bachelor pad. It hadn't seen a proper women's touch in a long, long time. The decor screamed masculinity let alone a deep cleaning. That wasn't a woman's job, of course, but she could certainly tell that Karen had probably done most of it. Despite Alice being present and choring all the time, some places somehow gathered dust.
Dean's eyes narrowed slightly at her mocking, though his lips did form a slight smirk as he attempted to read her without verbalizing his intent. "Oh Alice..." he quipped back, leaning against the counter next to hers so close their bodies brushed lightly. "I don't need lame pickup lines when I have this." He casually ran a hand down his chest and abs before stopping just above his jeans, giving them both a little wiggle for emphasis. He wasn't serious of course, now his flirting had turned rather light-hearted. Really his actions looked a bit more... playful. He figured it best to try and start a sort of... comfortability with her. A nonchalant elbow settled on Bobby's kitchen counter, signifying his casual demeanor within the house. After all, he had practically grown up there. Not to mention, Bobby noted in the past that 'Allie' could be… what was the world that the ol' lovable fart used… boisterous . For once, a stupid word seemed fitting.
"And trust me, Blondie," he continued in a purposely dropped deep, husky voice. "Puberty was a long time ago." He leaned in even closer, his breath brushing against her ear as he whispered, "But if it makes you feel better... I could always show you how much of a man I am now," he trailed off suggestively before straightening up again and crossing his arms over his broad chest and snickered a bit, well aware of his own idiocracy but not quite showing it on the surface.
"Now, why don't we cut the bullshit?" Dean asked, his voice returning to its usual tone. "You know damn well why I'm here. Bobby called me. You want to learn how to hunt and I'm available. Sometimes."
"Oh, you're good. You're good." She chuckled at his words before putting some space between them. "But you've rehearsed too much. I can tell. Lots of bicep checks in motel mirrors, huh?" As if she was that easy. Perhaps he expected such. Bobby had told her enough about the life that they led. Hunting. It didn't seem to exactly hand itself over to romance. That's how Allie was conceived in the first place. One night of sloppy bliss followed by a quick retreat. What a glory to behold! This time her response did come out a bit more... relaxed.
By the time her mother, Leslie, found out nothing could be done. Bobby had been the flight of the night. She had known nothing about him other than his name. Thank God technology has advanced. Too bad it was after her mother had faced the end. At least she got the flowers and the goodbye.
"You sound so enthused." Poor guy sounded like he didn't want to do it. Allie assumed her father had lectured him into it. Alice wasn't a woman who understood the word 'no' well. Aside from consent, of course. She was stubborn as absolute hell. Bobby had attempted to talk her out of it, but that was useless. Her father hunted and now she would too. The desire for control and freedom was too intense, did that make her crazy? Maybe. He appeared surprised at her quick acceptance that, yes, monsters existed.
"You need a shower." He looked like he had rolled down a steep hill up close. Dirt and small traces of blood covered his hands and forearms. He smelt. In fact, he looked damn near close to a casket case. Sweat formed on his brow.
Dean gave a wry smirk at her comment about his 'rehearsal'. Clearly, the woman was insinuating he was a playboy, he certainly wasn't a dumbass. Well, only on bar nights. "Hey..." he spoke once more, leaning against the counter next to her again. "You gotta admit it was pretty damn smooth." He chuckled softly before sobering up and nodding in agreement when she mentioned that he sounded less than enthused about teaching her how to hunt.
"Yeah, well... you know how it is," he shrugged nonchalantly as if it were no big deal. "I don't exactly have a choice with Bobby around."
Very true. Her father could be firm as fuck but it wasn't bad. Bobby somehow made you want to respect him. It wasn't out of fear. He was a good man.
Allie grinned to herself. No wonder Dean wasn't excited. Her father had probably alluded to her... defiant demeanor. Being a loud woman meant paving the path of a CUNT and being told over and over and over that you were doing it.
"Can we start tomorrow? The Bachelorette is on tonight." She bit her lip while thinking of it. "I'll be fucked if Jason doesn't win." Yes. She enjoyed crappy reality TV and dramas. Well. Some of them. Dr. Sexy M.D was gaining popularity and that show sucked. "Also you fucked up the floor, dude. Go mop it. I'm not doing it again." The words may have sounded harsh but her tone was rather light. Playful but also a tad firm.
She really wasn't doing it again.
Dean couldn't help but snort at her choice in television shows, shaking his head lightly. "You watch The Bachelorette?" he asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. The idea of that playing within Bobby's house nearly lit up his handsome features with mirth. Though, she didn't seem the type. Girls that watched shit like that were usually… giddy? Dramatic? Ten minutes in and Alice looked like the least demure woman on earth. Shy chicks were the ones that dug all that shit, right?
"Guess I owe you one." He leaned over and snatched the mop from its spot near the sink before turning to face her with a wicked grin on his lips. "But remember this, Sunshine," he growled playfully, his eyes scrunching with amusement as he trapped her against the counter once more. "You mess with the Winchester, you get your ass kicked by the Winchester."
With that, he sauntered out of the kitchen.
That didn't even make sense. Allie shook her head as he walked away but she did chuckle softly to herself. He was a strange enigma of a man. Certainly not what had been expected but at the same time... exactly what was envisioned.
The eyes of her father were certainly tinted with nostalgia.
The next six months passed like a blink. Dean would come and go. If Allie wasn't training with him she was researching under her father's insistence. Thank God she had gotten higher education. Nursing had prepared her with five-hour energy-fueled nights of examining medical textbooks. The most boring thing ever created. The old books that Bobby had collected weren't nearly as bland.
She stood with double arms outstretched, gun pointing at a makeshift ghost target that Dean had created. It looked like a child's art project.
They had actually grown close. Generally, Allie wasn't used to being around someone so intensely. She had been... cut off from friendships. Really any sort of connection before meeting her father. The sins of the past. Not that it happened quickly, really the development had taken years. Her 18th birthday had been full of smiles, her 22nd featuring only ghosts of the past.
The bullets weren't missing the target. They were past that. They just weren't... great shots. Her skills were certainly debatable. Dean had finally started taking her on hunts. They needed to tighten up before continuing on to harsher realities. Ghosts could only entertain for so long.
"I don't understand what you mean!" The blonde yelled out of frustration and tensed up. "You're just... standing and shooting!" He wasn't describing anything. Sometimes it was like Dean forgot that he had nearly two decades of experience over her. "Don't look at me like that! Fucking describe what you're doing, don't just do it and tell me to do it after!"
Dean chuckled as he watched Allie's frustration grow, shaking his head lightly. "Look at you," he murmured with a grin, moving toward her until they were standing face-to-face. Spitfire. His special little mentee, haha. Allie definitely wouldn't like such a note.
She could be a bitch, but god damn if she didn't give him a run for his money. He'd even grown to appreciate their time together and found himself enthused to come back to Bobby's and spend time with her. Odd considering he'd never really been friends with a woman that he... didn't fuck, but Allie had an affinity for cracking good jokes and keeping him on his toes, both with her brazen attitude and blunt disposition.
"You know what I mean," he said quietly, lowering his voice so only she could hear him. He leaned in close enough for their forms to nudge in an attempt to guide her movements, careful of her escalating anger. "You're rushing it. You need to slow down, focus on your breathing... feel the gun in your hands."
He pulled back slightly then, emerald eyes never leaving hers as he continued speaking softly but firmly. "Remember what I told you? It's not just about shooting 'straight'," he said seriously. "It's about being one with your weapon; knowing when and where to strike without hesitation or mercy. If you hesitate— you die." His voice dropped to maintain the necessary depth of the conversation, taking on a darker edge to convey the meaning behind the words. "And sometimes... it takes more than bullets to get the job done."
"It takes more than bullets to get the job done."
Dean's words were an insinuation of discussions previously experienced. Sometimes anything had to be a weapon. Sometimes you had to fight despite being injured or tired or practically filleted emotionally. Nothing came before the hunt. Nothing stopped you until the monster was dead. At times he could be intense but it was warranted.
They didn't really talk about it but he had grown quite protective of her. His demeanor had changed since their first meeting. They weren't strangers these days. They had a blossomed friendship and with that came the subconscious knowledge that any wrong move could damage either one of them emotionally. Maybe even mentally.
Dean slid into the role of being a mentor well. Though they did bicker at times. In fact, their friendship seemed to have two settings. Banter or bicker. That was it. Poor Bobby. His house was a rat's cage half the time.
Allie cracked her neck and tried her best to take his advice. Being too fast. Okay. She'd slow down. She shook her body out in an effort to wave away the tension in her muscles before shooting again. Stomach hit. Again. Not bad. But not... very good. They were workin' on a headshot and Allie knew that Dean certainly wouldn't let her on another hunt until it was perfected.
"Damn it!" Her voice raised through gritted teeth and her hands clamped tight over the metal of the pistol, the gun shook at the sudden desperation of her hands.
Dean let out a small noise under his breath at her frustration, stepping back to give her some space. "That's better," he praised with a smirk on his lips. It wasn't, but He knew how much it irritated her when she didn't nail something the first time around; that need for perfectionism was both adorable and infuriating all rolled into one delicious package. Plus, praising her came quite easy considering she'd try over and over again. Allie wasn't perfect and training her had taken a lot of effort. The younger woman was damn defiant! Hard to control a raging flame before it became a bonfire but he had come to learn that everyone needed a little fire in their lives sometimes, even him. Not to mention, his focus on her had taken some of the edge out of missing Sam. Though, at night the bright light of his main phone called to him - a sad song of reverence. The call never came to fruition though, he always just stared at the screen until rest eventually showed up - or didn't. Sometimes the sun was what took his eyes off of the simple title contact of "BITCH." You would think the nickname would signal laughter. For the past year it hadn't, just depersonalized eyes and a sweeping feeling of mournful nostalgia.
"Now again," he said calmly, aiming himself before firing off two shots in rapid succession—both hitting their targets dead center. His eyes never left hers as he slowly lowered the gun, challenging her to match him. "Slow down, focus on your breathing..."
She felt like pulling her fucking hair out. She cared about Dean but sometimes he could be such a God damn braggart. He was cocky and arrogant. Though she supposed everyone had their flaws.
"Wow, thanks. Now I know how to do it! I'm magically a perfect shot since you showed me how!" She was sarcastically snidely and her tone took on a humorous false sincerity. Blue eyes batted while a theatrically large smile forced her rosy cheeks to bulb. Alice wore her frustration on her sleeve. Only because she trusted him. Maybe they fought all the time. So what? It only made them closer. They never actually kept any of the fights stored inside of themselves.
The blonde repositioned herself.
three,
two,
bang.
Shoulder hit.
Allie bit her fist in anger. Her eyes squeezed shut at her own failure. At first the idea of hunting had been quite all-consuming but she'd never been great at accepting poor performance and thus far she hadn't been much of an all-star player.
Dean let out a short snort and eyeroll, shaking his head lightly as he holstered his weapon. "You know what I mean,"
"Focus on your breathing, Allie." He spoke softly, his voice low in her ear. "Inhale... hold it..." He paused for a moment, allowing her time to follow along before continuing. "...exhale slowly. Don't think too much."
Dean moved behind her, circling an arm around her waist to pull her flush against him. The scent of wildflowers wafted into relaxed nostrils. Half the time he was used to smelling death and decay. Allie's perfume was always a welcomed change. His other arm was positioned right over hers on the gun. His cheek grazed her ear while green eyes took in the target akin to her own view. "Just breathe, Alls."
Chest to chest.
Hip to hip.
Heart to heart?
Get a grip, Allie.
Blood pumped rushed and hot through plump blue veins. Her eardrum rang with the sound of her own life's core beating.
Beating.
The action of a kind embrace did center her. Had she ever breathed a true breath? Something relaxed and easy? Most people didn't just survive. They lived. Allie envied that. Hunting had given her focus and potentially a meaning. Before she was just some random fuckin' blonde from Ohio that peaked in high school. Big tits, big ass, slim waist, head cheerleader, prom queen. Such adjectives and nouns were almost embarrassing now. They had defined her in a category that she didn't want to belong to. Book by its cover and all that shit.
Although she was generally defiant towards authority— or really anyone who tried to tell her what to do, Dean had slipped through the cracks and lately her woman's scorn had dissipated due to the trust they had developed. It wasn't an easy beginning. Really, it wasn't even easy now. Trust took time. Trust took allowing someone to see the grimy, disgusting parts of her that hid in dirty shadows and sat behind perfectly manicured inner walls.
She did as he requested. Her diaphragm widened greatly.
Hold. Hold. Hold.
— and finally
— release.