It turned out that pulling one's whole, exhausted body out of a shallow grave was difficult. Wow. Who knew?
Dirt shoved its grainy beads under short fingernails, grime and blood lay there - old flesh that somehow hadn't rotted the way it had been created to. She stumbled down a desolate road outside of Sioux Falls under evening hues. The sunset peaked beautifully over a nearby field, contrasting the way her form looked as though a tornado had grabbed her and flung her clear across South Dakota.
Calling the boys proved useless. No one answered the lines, at least not the three she had managed from yanking quarters out of a take-a-penny. Her father held multiple burners for communication that had been passed down to Garth but a living dead girl certainly didn't have the greatest memory upon rebooting. By the grace of God (not that she had ever actually believed in the divine entity, at least not in a... positive way) she had managed to find herself at a cafe, lookin' like walking, talking - death.
No credit cards, no phone, no money... being dead fucking sucked. All of the usual suspects for getting by no longer proved fruitful and so Alice called the phone company to try and track down Jody Mills, considering everyone else stayed out of the fucking yellow pages. Just Hunter things.
When Allie finally showed up days later outside of the bunker that held no familiarity to her, she was in better... condition via stolen clothes and a gym shower, not to mention Jody’s kindred assistance. A few days at the older woman’s home at least allowed her momentary catch-up on the fact that it had been five years since her death. The door opening led to a wide smile and Alice gazed up at the man who had seemingly aged an eternity in just a few years. "Honey, I'm home." to her it had been but a day, no recollection of her time spent up in the great white cloud. "You got any beer, handsome? I'm parched. "
Forest green focused on the blonde in front of him. Jody had called him and, admittedly, went on a small tangent over finding what she believed to be another zombie. Though upon getting his demised friend to shower, she had noted that Allie looked no worse for wear. Nearly… normal. Like the day she left. Aside from her once ravaged tongue and whitened eyes.
Dean hadn’t expected her to arrive so soon. Jody must have thought dispensing her early was the best option. After all, a reconciliation should have been joyous. Instead Dean stared at her, unsure of what to say or if any of the day was even real. Hell, he’d seen his fair share of hallucinations. “I…” Words died at his mouth to the sight of her short flirtatious expression, her casualness and humor towards the earth shattering revelation that the dead walked the earth and wanted a beer of all things. That was the first alarm. Allie wasn’t much of a beer woman. Sure sometimes she would pick it up if he and Sam were sharing a pint but overall she…
The words were a joke. He was reading too much into it.
“Are you…” Brows furrowed and knotted in confusion before his hand tentatively reached out to grasp her shoulder with a rough shake. It moved. Her body moved.
“Sonofabitch…” Mills had, apparently, gone through the worshiped conditions of making sure the blonde beauty wasn’t a shifter, or any other sort of rogue monster with a familiar face. Sam talked her through all of those little rituals.
“I know, pretty cool right. I look great! I knew everything looked good on me. Even death. So… couture.” Resurrection was certainly high-end, not very affordable for the average Joe. Blue eyes fluttered a bit. Something felt… different. New. Like the puzzle of her soul had been mended together and made theatrical again, a rebirth into the personality of her younger self. Void of the trauma that had once plagued her. Sure, she remembered - vastly, in fact. But the harsh feelings of being lost in dark waters no longer consumed her.
A bright, teasing smile played at her lips and she leaned forward ever so slightly. “Where’s Sam? I’m thinking I could scare him worse than Halloween of 2011. Remember that? Nearly shit his pants when I jumped out.” In a way she figured keeping things light would aid with his intense surprise. It did with Jodes, at least. That only took a few hours and then they were off to the metaphorical races. The races being laughing and not attempting to cut her with a silver knife, of course.
The joking fell on deaf ears. Instead, large arms swiftly encased her small body and pulled her frame in for a strangling hug - so tight that she’d feel it for a damn week. She moved. That meant she was real and not some sort of magical fiction. Not a shit prank by Rowena or vision in his dreams like so many nights. So. Many. Nights.
He’d been alone without the grace of her touch and soft words in bed. When the Mark plundered his arm and bent its hooks into his soul, fileting his very humanity off in chunks, she was gone. The thing that kept him tethered for years had fallen into an early grave. Maybe the moments of pure bloodlust could have been staved off if the earth still had the sun. Or was he the moon? Dark. All the time. Desolate.
Nothing shined on him for years. Purgatory had taken him near after her death, then the Mark, then Amara came waltzing in and everything was just fucking tiring. No warmth came to rest atop his skin with her gone. The only coping he had found was alcohol. So much so that sometimes it seemed to see the light of day from his pores. Beer, Whiskey, whatever was available at the time. He didn’t know a better way and couldn’t sleep without nightmares of her sky blue eyes rolling into the back of her head and staring up at him. A kodak moment of his most heart wrenching failure. “How are you here? I saw you die.” Not that it mattered much. He himself had died many times over. But Cas hadn’t healed her and thus far they hadn’t found a way to save her. He never stopped trying, though. Despite the chastising from Sam about needing to dig her up and burn her. They burned everyone else. He knew that but burning her…
They burned Charlie. Even Charlie. But Allie was different and deep down, he couldn’t deal with the permanence of that. He was a selfish man at heart for it. Let her be a ghost, even at the fraction of a chance at least he could hope to find her and share a last moment with her - then let her go. Not that he could ever truly let her go.
But that moment never came. No writings on mirrors or Britney Spears coming in on the radio. The agonizing years went by without any sort of spiritual interference from her. Sam viewed it as a good thing. Dean… other feelings resided in him about it.
“Don’t know. All roads lead home, I guess. Not much of a story. Sorry.” A shrug of her shoulders and his grip only seemed to tighten harder around her petite frame. A small puff of air left her throat and she spoke again before he could offer a retort. “Okaaay Casanova! Firm, really firm, can’t breath!” She coughed a bit and tapped his back, blonde waves swaying as he gave her the most intense fucking hug of her life. Man had an iron grip.
His arms pulsed around her but finally gave in and fell to his sides, chuckling softly at her quip even as he blinked back the moisture ever so slightly lining his green eyes. “Sorry, Alls. It's just…” He drew back just enough to frame her familiar body into his gaze, taking her in as if he could wake at any minute with just the short interaction to keep him going through the motions of the day. “It's been so damn long. I never thought I'd see you again.”
His thumb brushed over her cheekbone tenderly as a lopsided grin curved at his plush lips. “And here I thought I was the one who always came back from the dead. You tryin' to steal my thunder, Blondie?” Attempting to pull up his usual charm proved difficult in the scenario, considering many evenings were spent envisioning the two of them in his bed while she gripped scratchy sheets atop his firm mattress. Jacking off had never felt quite so fucking sad as that. Who jerked off to fantasies of their dead best friend? He had been mentally fucked for a while but that really cemented it.
Keeping one arm wrapped around her waist, he led her inside the bunker with a heart that instantly warmed from the thundering chaos that usually lived inside of him. Those five years changed things. “C'mon, let's get you that beer. And you can tell me everything, even if it ain't much of a story. I just wanna hear your voice. Been a long time.”
"So you don't remember anything?" Sam's voice pummelled through the conversation at the map table with one hand subconsciously rubbing at his mouth. If the conversation grew into anxious territory, his fingernails would surely find their way between his teeth. An old habit that he couldn't seem to rid himself of. Seeing her again had brought forth a wave of emotions. Pain, Fear, Melancholy, joy.. The sudden onset left him exhausted without much time passing at all. Soon they would need to relive the scene when Cas arrived back.
"Well, I remember it choking me." Beer was exchanged for wine in an infamously Allie way. She was never much one for Ale. The translucent liquid was swirled around in her glass before she took a short sip. "But uh... no. I just pulled myself out of the dirt and here I am. Skin bare as the day I left my mom's..." She stopped at that, realizing it would sound pretty raunchy even for her. "As the day I was born." No scars. She stood out of her seat and carefully lifted up her tank top to reveal a nude hip, free of scarring from Cas's mending of her body years prior.
Sam swallowed at the sight. Dean's body had been repaired upon his re-entry into the human world from Cas's grip. Well, aside from the scar that still remained on his brother's shoulder. Truthfully he had never given much thought to where Allie would have gone (other than the chance of her becoming a spirit). On many occasions he had tried (and failed) to speak with Dean about her burial. All of the attempts never seemed to bring them any closer to compromise and sometimes, in the late night, Dean would sneak out for hours and come back in the early morning. They never spoke of it but Sam had an inkling of where he was going. Who was he to judge? Sometimes he still thought of Jessica, dreamt of her, missed her. He didn't get along with his older sibling at times but Dean going to visit Allie's grave would never apply.
He shot Dean a look only to get slanted eyes back as if to express 'Shut up, Sam'. But shutting up couldn't be an option considering their consistent lack of luck with things. "When Dean came back he... was missing his scars, broken bones..." Any evidence of their old life, other than his tattoo's. Even some of those had hit the highway.
Dean piped up at Sam's clear refusal of his thought process. "It's not that, Sam. She doesn't have a mark! Cas would have told us if he plucked her from anywhere!" He knew what his brother was getting at - the idea that Allie's resurgence into their lives could mean impending hardship. Why did things always have to be like that?! No, not this time. This time Dean chose to believe that life had actually given them a fucking good thing for once. He didn't know how, or why, but chose to remain blissfully unaware until any evidence came forth of any negativity surrounding her survival.
Allie released a soft breath and awkwardly stared down at her glass. "So... How's it been? This place is... cool..." Her tongue played against the bottom of her teeth. A lot to take in, in fact. A bunker. Out of anything. Maybe as a zombie it was apt for her to be there. Very... cinematic. Invading a space and taking it down from the inside, at least that was what Sam appeared to think.
She had never really put thought into them finding a home-like space. Well, not while still hunting. That always felt like a pipe dream at best. She hadn't seen much of it but all in all... if they were happy, that was what mattered in the end.
Awkwardness filled the air and Dean damn near felt like punching his brother in the face. He wouldn't, but his anger did flare a bit over the course their conversation had taken. He held his hand up beside his mouth to conceal his silent words from the beautiful woman beside him before mouthing "Really?!" As if his younger sibling was cockblocking their happy, cheerful talk with negative connotations. Which he was!
"Al, Come with me. We made a room up for you." Initially he hadn't wanted to but Sam insisted on yet another ballbuster. If Dean had his way with it she would be staying in his room with him to ensure her safety. No fucking way he was going to spend another five years without her. Those five were the worst of his miserable life. Having her back was a goddamn jackpot, no matter what Sam thought. Bitch.
Plus, they shared a room for years while on he road. Why did that need to change just because the bunker came with a few extra rooms? Sam demanded it based on 'Privacy' and 'Making sure Allie's comfortable' - as if they'd ever had any individual privacy in the first place.
He motioned for her to join, hand outreached to take hers without thought and pull her along and out of the map room. Once they were out of ear shot he gave a fizzle of a sigh and stared ahead. "Sorry 'bout that. He's... A lot has happened." Which often drove them to the worst case scenario.
Allie gave a short shrug and yawned, still holding on to her wine for dear life. "It's fine. I mean, we've both seen and endured The Walking Dead, so. Makes sense." Her memories brought back Karen. Seeing her father's deceased wife had been... strange. Not to mention how broken he had been over killing her again. They always stated that dead things should stay dead - but neither of the boys had opted to 'put her down' yet. Together they weaved through a corridor until they stood outside of a door.
Inside was a full bed, a desk, a dresser... it was quite plain. However, some old photos did sit on the nightstand. A few of them together in their younger years. The fight against time was folded just in front of her and Allie picked up the crumpled items with a small smile. "Nice touch," The old memories brought fond nostalgia and her thumb caressed at the corner, thin paper-like material filling her with slight fawning. Her younger self had no idea of the trials and tribulations that they would fight together.
"I have more if you want to see them - they're in my room though." A beat and he remembered Sam's previous chastising. "Maybe tomorrow. Let's get you setup in here. You can make it all Legally Blonde or whatever." Reference to a chick flick she forced him to watch on multiple nights in old motel rooms. He always feigned disliking it but secretly enjoyed seeing her content, rolled up in a blanket and cutoff from shitty circumstances.
Dean pulled over a box with some of her old things. Items he couldn't bring himself to get rid of. Shirts, skirts, dresses. One thing was missing, though. In case it was a mirage and she soon disappeared or ran off in the night. That ocean perfume hidden in the top drawer of his nightstand. The only time he remembered what it felt like to be loved at all. The nights of being three days on drunken sins and sinking, he sprayed that shit until his thumb cramped up. He'd gone nearly feral with the Mark of Cain, and still sprayed that salty beach breeze on his pillow. Stepping back from the brink included the image of putting his ear up to a seashell and hearing her siren song in his sleep.
Maybe once upon a time he had been good for her. Back before the convulsions and sputtering of pink spit onto his jeans. Now though... he'd always be part monster from the sheer force of his wrongdoings. For that, no words of his intense longing would ever come out. If she were to stay with him once again he would die a lonely man still gripping tears of her dresses. Home never existed anyway. Even if he liked to pretend it did.
Delicate fingertips roamed over the frame of a large cardboard box. Items were neatly tucked inside and Allie took an old skirt within her hands before lining it up with her body. "You kept this? I thought you hated this skirt. You always said it looked like I was trying to be Sharon Tate." Which she was. The woman was a icon and died too soon.
"I like Sharon Tate," He stared at her as she excitedly moved through the box of her old belongings. "I liked it." Back then he didn't know how to give her a compliment, so he teased her often. But now he was a man nearing 40, staring at the woman he loved. "She was beautiful," A soft pause and he walked throughout the room, offering space to her while she soaked up the intensity of the day. "And talented." His words held no humorous undertones as he spoke the earnest words, careful as to not push too much on her too soon or make her uncomfortable (as Sam had said).
"Do you... want some privacy?" He spoke again while attempting to keep his tone level despite his hope that she didn't and they could spend some more time together.
"No, why would you say that? When have we ever learned what the word privacy means?" He used to fucking pee while she showered. Privacy went out the window by the time she was 26, and he wasn't even 30. The question nearly felt idiotic. A small laugh that was nearly under her breath and Allie pulled out a few more things with a soft smile. Beneath most of the items lay some old photo booth moments from their time together, some books. Everything seemed rather mundane and yet... also so... specific. Like each item had been kept for a reason that she was wholly unaware of. Why only the parts that she had thought didn't mean much at all?
Blue eyes glossed over and took in him, standing close by but also respectfully at a distance. He looked tired. He looked strained. As if his body pulsed through a blender and then reformed. Wrinkles laid at his eyes. A different man from yesterday, but still familiar. Then he laughed and the wrinkles perched into sweet nodes of expression, of jest.
So, Sam was wrong. He knew it.
"Do you want me to stay with you for the night?" He asked.
"Yes."
