THREE MONTHS LATER

The heat of June bore into cherry paint. Baby blue nails chipped away under the friction of a rusted old wrench. Figures that Bobby wouldn't give over access to the mint tools in his case, considering she was a damn noobie when it came to vehicular metal.

Trades— never the strong suit. At a time in her youth Allie prided herself on insatiable knowledge. Book smarts, street smarts, a whole package tied up in a pretty bow - thanks to middle school braces and short-term bullying. Funny how circumstances changed you. The minute those damn things came off, summer of eighth grade, Allie resigned herself to the good fight of being the 'hot blonde cheerleader'. As a thirteen year old, that trope looked mighty fine.

Popularity? Better than getting shoved into lockers, or called brace face. Yep, she blossomed like a swan that summer. All of her flexibility only aided at performing within a stereotypical box, and then her body curved with each passing year until the denotation of 'Prom Queen' was assigned long before senior year.

"Fucking hell," Allie grimaced under the tight bolt above. Her jeep, propped up on two jacks, didn't offer any sort of leeway. Amidst the months after being ditched at her father's front door, Alice attempted to take part in her father's many skills and hobbies. Cars? The latest. Not the greatest. Anything to get a resentful mind off of the truth.

The odd hunt took place with Bobby, but he was more of a phone's guy, research, analyzing. Many hunter's called on him for help and that meant stickin' by the burners for a decent amount of the day.

Reading could only take up part of the overwhelming open time. Never Let Me Go, Pride and Prejudice, amongst others. The house was clean, everything neatly organized. Suffice to say, boredom seeped in.

Not to mention — lack of control. At her father's she was an unemployed, broke, university drop out. On the road? A hero. Saving people. Taking monsters out and stringing them from the rafters. Fuck, the feeling after a hunt? Like being Hercules. The adrenaline had merit for studies.

The withdrawal, although leaving her 'safe', did nothing to assist her inner rage and desire for retribution.

Dean's boots crunched against the dirt of Singer Salvage. The sun, draped high and mighty, beamed across tanned legs that shot out from a red Wrangler. White socks sat just above steel-toe boots and he smirked, the visual of Jurassic Park coming to mind. Laura Dern. Allie'd surely take the cake in that bitch fight.

"Bobby said you'd be out here," he spoke while approaching. "Always thought I'd be the one to get you dirty."

His voice brought immediate irritation. No apology. Straight back into their usual without even an effort towards compassion. "I try not to fuck guys that ditch me. I can get dirty by myself," Allie sniped from beneath her own idolized car, one that was left behind in efforts of helping the boys find their father. Another loss for her. Less time with Steezy.

Dean grimaced. Probably should have expected a less than warm welcome, considering how they left things. How he left things. Rather than take a bite out of her words and feed into the anger, he shoved his hands in his pockets and attempted to move onto another topic. "What's going on with the Jeep?" There had to be an olive branch somewhere, a turn of conversation to work in his favor.

Not yet keen on sliding out from beneath the jacked up station, Allie continued to thrust the wrench, metal spinning around uselessly from wear and tear. "I'm trying to focus," she dismissed.

"Maybe I can help," he insisted and took another step forward, already shedding himself of the light jacket over his t-shirt and pulling a creeper from Bobby's workstation. Mere seconds later he was on his back, rolling under the car alongside her.

Their faces, now side by side with bodies pointed in opposite directions, nearly touched. "Dean, I can change the oil in my own car, okay?" Focus became difficult to maintain with him right next to her, breathing down her neck. "It's just this… stupid fucking wrench."

He took a minor look at the surroundings and a grin tilted up his cheek. "And that's your oil bucket?" Sitting right below the drain plug was a small Tupperware container.

"What?" She finally turned, head tilting down to stare at the plastic catching method. Upon turning, his nose came to almost touch hers. "Yeah, for the mess." The blonde spoke matter-of-factly, as if this wasn't her first rodeo.

"Al, do you know how much oil is in a vehicle?" Dean forced himself not to laugh, instead keeping light with his tone so as to not start up another argument. "We need to get a bigger catch." Without waiting for her response, Dean pushed himself out from under the car and proceeded to grasp a much larger container a few strides away and traded the two out, his hand tossing the useless one. "Give me the wrench."

The tool was offered up after a second and Allie watched as his hands worked, taking in the movements before oil began to flow down from her greatest love, the best thing ever found. Freedom.

"I loosened it," Allie mumbled, oddly taken by his ease. "You aren't here to help me with Steez, Dean." She assumed they most likely needed help from her father, considering they hadn't reached out much in the past three months. Not of her own decision. What was she supposed to do? Chase after them like a lost puppy? Not happening, not on her worst fucking day on earth would she beg for a man's attention.

She let the words hang in the air between them, insinuating that his presence was unwarranted. Broken hearts don't mend with charisma and boisterous references. They simply weren't 'them' anymore. Apparently Dean missed out on the 'a friend in need is a friend indeed' memo.

Dean's face hardened slightly at her words, a flicker of hurt flashing across his features before he schooled his expression into one of nonchalant amusement. "You wound me, Blondie," he quipped back, wiping his greasy hands on a nearby rag before tossing it aside. "I thought we were friends." He paused, green eyes meeting hers with a hint of challenge. "Or did you forget about all those times I saved your ass?"

He knew it was a low blow, but her accusations stung. He hadn't just abandoned her; he'd done what he thought was best for her, even if it hurt like hell. And now, here she was, acting like he was some stranger intruding on her life. It wasn't fair. Not after all they had done together, all he taught her. The nights spent between care and worry,

He straightened up, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans once again. "Look," he sighed. "I am here for Bobby." He didn't say it, but his primary reason? Her. "Sam and I need his help with something." He left the details vague, not wanting to divulge any information about their current hunt without Bobby's permission – a demon, the yellow-eyed one, Azazel. Their dad's latest taking involved The Colt, demons, and all sort of other nasty shit. Four heads were better than two.

"It's funny you say that," Allie pulled herself out from under the Jeep and wiped her hands on her jean shorts. "I thought the same thing." A snide remark in response to his proclamation of being friends. They weren't friends. Maybe months ago their relationship held something that resembled friendship, but now that was gone. Allie was not a pump and dump, nor a woman to leave behind and pick up when someone got bored; that happened enough in her previous life.

"Feel free to take your gold medal for being a good guy on your way out." Ever the type to protect herself, Allie remained elusive and cold.

And why did it need to be on her anyway? He was the one that rendered her a burden! Cut the ties and never called after! Even when he called her father he denied the option of speaking to her. Yeah, her father told her about that. Bobby told her everything.

"Then go talk to my dad. You're wasting time out here." She had nothing to add to the situation, and frankly, wanted to get as far away from him as possible.

Sensing the conversation would only turn more sour if he continued, Dean's gaze hardened on her. He nodded, sucking on the lower portion of the inside of his bottom lip. "See you inside."

Bobby's ass cheek itched somethin' fierce atop the worn wood of his desk- old hips moved to rub the area a bit as Dean strode in, seemingly distracted. "She full 'a piss and vinegar?" He held back a grin, remaining somewhat stoic in the face of adversary. He warned the kid not to make trail to the back salvage yard. Although his daughter could be a pistol, sometimes that meant gettin' whipped. Sam appeared to know well enough when to let sleeping dogs lie.

Dean scowled to himself, taking in the familiar room as if anything notably changed. Yet again, the man in front of him came out victorious. "She's busy," he replied. Much to Bobby's chagrin, Dean had poked the bear. He expected a halfway decent reunion. Maybe not tears, but a few laughs or a goddamn hug wouldn't hurt.

"Busy?" Sam prompted from his sitting across the desk, archaic books surrounding their conversation. "Doing what?" What could possibly be more important than their current predicament? Their dad may have been strung up bleeding to death, or possessed, or nearly beaten to death... and Allie was busy?

"Changing the oil in her car..." Dean mumbled before side stepping and grasping an old flask from Bobby's outstretched hand. "Holy water?"

"Whiskey," Bobby nodded along with the smallest of smirks. "You tell her 'bout John?"

"..." Dean almost shot back in retaliation, but took a drink from the flask first. "No," before Sam had the time to pipe up and offer his two cents, Dean continued on. "She didn't want to talk to me, okay? Can we focus? We don't need Allie to get this done," though inside he brewed with the truth. The last few months were less than optimal, considering the time was spent without an engrained counterpart. Not only did he miss their back and forth sessions, Allie brought important factors to the team. He forgot how hard it was to talk his way out of handcuffs, or get them lock and key information while being six foot and also kind of bad with authority.

"...you think it's because I didn't call?" Well, now the question sounded fucking stupid. As soon as it came out he heard Bobby's judgment in the back of his skull, the gears grinding to a halt.

"No, I think it's because she wanted to have a tea party." Sarcasm engulfed the room from the weathered hunter and he shook his head. "You ain't got a lick 'a sense, do ya? You ever met a woman before?" Numero uno rule. Call. If ya don't call, it's over. Don't matter the reason. They ask you to call, you think you should ring, ya had a fight - CALL. He was married for goddamn years. He tried to drop hints to the younger man, his pupil. Fuck all that did! "Asked ya if ya wanted to talk to her... you always said no!"

Girls, women, chicks, whatever. All the same shit. Confusing. At least the others didn't get to know him well enough. Allie slid under his skin and tugged at frayed nerves like a fucking scratching pussycat. Hell, half the time someone could confuse them for enemies. Sometimes he wondered if 'nice' lived and breathed in her selective vocabulary. Weren't babes supposed to be nurturing, sweet, soft and that crap? Instead, Dean splayed under her imposing microscope. "I know about chicks! Allie isn't -"

"I'm not what?" The growling sound of imposing doom. Alice's gaze settled on him, intensity percolating within eyeliner defined irises. More threatened to fall out in defiance of Dean's blasphemous betrayal, but instead her tongue sat pressed against pearly white teeth in favor of her father's presence and sanity. What, not sugary and affectionate enough? Willing to spread it and sit on her knees, suck him off and accept his crap effort of an apology with prayer hands? Men.

The sudden cacophony of chains rustling outside, along with the yelping of a dog had all four of the group standing to their feet, heads turning to the bay window across the living room, shrouded with slacked horizontal blinds.

And then it was quiet.

And Bobby knew.

She was there. The demon. A plan from the beginning, though. Unfortunately, Dean hadn't quite relayed the information.

Now they sat in a mighty fine predicament.

Meg's entrance took Allie for a ride. Shocking, and perhaps even poetic in a sort of… ironic, FML kind of way.

"Great! Let's make it a party?! Why not?!" Sick of the straight up shit that appeared to marr and taint her life, she rolled her eyes and took on a defensive stance, muscles already tensing into knotted beads below sunkissed skin. "Do you ever get tired of showing up uninvited? Last picked during red-rover, weren't ya?" A sneer was shot out, projection of the disappointing few months shining out in glowing disapproval.

Spikey blonde hair turned a scowl into the devil's playground and Meg, tired of the cat and mouse games, snarled. "No more crap, okay?"

At Dean's near instant approach, Meg's hand flailed out, sending him hurtling across the room and into an adjacent stack of old tomes. The cycle.

Meg:

I want the Colt, Sam – the real Colt – right now.

Sam:

We don't have it on us. We buried it.

Meg:

Didn't I say "no more crap"? I swear – after everything I heard about you Winchesters, I got to tell you, I'm a little underwhelmed. First Johnny tries to pawn off a fake gun, and then he leaves the real gun with you two chuckleheads. Lackluster, men. I mean, did you really think I wouldn't find you?

Allie, now side by side with her father, moved to step forward -

Dean's frame cast a shadow in the living room against her smaller silhouette, enshrining her in backup amidst the chaos. "Actually, we were counting on it," and so red it nearly seared into the ceiling, the key.

"How's your neck?" Unsavory lips curved wide and Meg, in all of her hellish intent, offered an insincere hiss. "You know, I enjoyed our time together. Did you finish? I think I'm still… working up the tension." The petite body of an innocent female moved in false sensuality against constraints. The chair that held her creaked, but retained.

Allie's nose scrunched with disgust, teeth chewing into the fleshy buccal mucosa of her left cheek. Her soothing tongue ran over the hanging wound as the metallic taste of blood swept over her taste buds.

Don't give in . Let the rage swell inside of your mouth, then swallow it as it plagues and begs to get out .

"Big words for someone in your position," Alice murmured and curved around the other… woman. Seizing the idea of out of sight, out of mind, Allie quieted and took hold of a nearby book. If the bitch came for a fight, a fight would be had, but not until everyone agreed to pass Go.

"Doesn't matter." Meg coiled, cracking her neck with eyes scanning the antique room. The scent of death wafted into her nose. Not current, old. The past clung to the walls and brought a smile over her lips. "John's dead. I tasted his heart myself."

At the lack of reply from the other woman, she cooked up a separate topic. "These Winchesters…" Meg's words twisted into the air with sinister manipulation. "Everyone around them dies."

"Been that way since they were little babies. They won't save you, Allie," hints of sympathy teetered on the sentence as it was released. "You're gonna die by their side… probably in a Juicy tracksuit."

Fucking bitch. Allie did her best to remain aloof. Anything else, any sort of rise could spell disaster. They needed the demon to be desperate, to practically beg to be put down like a dying animal. "Better than being here, locked up for eternity with no way out - don't you think?"

Just then Bobby arrived, pressing a calming palm to his daughter's shoulder. "Ain't worth it. Tap out." Demons. The whole lot of 'em were good at getting in someone's mind, weaseling past inner walls and destroying any sort of hope to be found. "Go talk with Sam."

Understanding that her father's words were golden, and an order disguised was still an order, Allie nodded and rested her hand atop his, before slinking back to the other side of the room.

Sam's head shot up from the book between his bitten fingernails. He must have destroyed them absentmindedly, they were nearly taken down to the three quarter mark and slightly bloody. "Hey!" He prompted as blonde hair approached. "Any news?"

"Other than the fact that I'm going to die playing a grizzly homage to The Simple Life? No." Allie settled in across from him, old chair scooting into the table as she rubbed worn palms over her face.

"What?" Sam's eyebrows stitched in the middle, confusing clear across features.

"Nothing, never mind." Allie's hand waved up dismissively and she propped her elbows up onto the table.

Heavy silence sat between them for a long minute until Sam could no longer take it anymore, and attempted to offer up a solace of understanding between the two of them. "Allie, I'm sorry. We're sorry." Not that the apology would really help much. What was there to say? They messed up. In the idea of wanting to keep her safe, they hurt her. That much was obvious.

"Sam I-" Allie tried to fend off the apology and approach to deeper conversation, only to be cut off.

"Dean's not great with apologies," the younger Winchester continued, already anticipating Allie's usual reaction to emotional connection. All of that didn't matter much. If they wanted a shred of normalcy, even a thread of what used to be, that meant being honest and swallowing the Winchester pride. "But… we both looked at the phone a lot," more than he cared to admit. "It wasn't the same. I don't think either of us knew what to say."

Although Allie could be cold, she wasn't totally without heart. Hell, within her lay pounds of understanding and empathy - it was just guarded. Such qualities often led to heartbreak, so she concealed them most of the time.

But Sam and Dean had a missing father, a greater monster on the loose, and no clues. Yeah, Alice was a bitch sometimes, but she still cared. "It's okay, Sam. Don't worry about that right now."

Sensing that he may have heard Meg's cock-a-doodle-dooing, she kept on. "She's lying- Meg. John isn't… She's trying to get to you. Don't let her."

Shrivelled up on the floor in front of her sat the body of another. They were roughly the same age, give or take a few years. Blood pooled from Meg's mouth, nose, ears. Splattered across the wooden floorboards was the gore of a young woman. An innocent woman.

Was Meg even her real name? Did anyone look for her? What about her parents, did they pray every night to find their missing child?

Kind hands did their best to fold under the unknown girl's head and neck. Though the body was dead, guilt remained over the way that transportation and dispatch would occur. It only felt right to be gentle, to not toss around the unfortunate corpse before them.

Things were quiet. Her father remained silent while they both did their best to pick up the weight of the body, which was negligible. She was small. Even smaller in appearance now that the demon had left. Now she seemed like a simple college student, one like many others across the country that were most likely partying at such a late hour of the day, or studying.

The option of leaving with Sam and Dean in search of John had been offered. Instead, Allie elected to stay with her father and assist in the more... depressing aspects of the job. Disposal. When it came to doing so with the Winchesters - they often took care of it. Sure she took part in salt and burns, but those were different. The people were already dead, usually for a significant amount of time. Burying a full body that... Well did they kill her? Would this act as another taint on her growing record against the divine? Allie supposed she was doomed anyway.

"It don't get better, but it gets easier." Bobby spoke out while they heaved the dead woman to the back portion of the yard. Of all the many reasons he resisted Allie becoming a hunter, this situation found itself at the top of the list. Hunting took the piss out of you, turned you into the most vile parts of being a warrior. He watched as others grew distant to all the facets of reality. Death brought inurement. In fact, he was no 1 in a million. These days he lived as a somewhat alcoholic hermit over the things he witnessed. Try as he may, though, Allie never took control well. So, now all that could be given was advice.

"You... let me know if you want to say a few words, and we will." He hadn't in a long time, hard to remember if it helped originally. Now everything blended together. Though Bobby would have loved to proclaim that to be due to age -

It wasn't.