The Dotted Line

Ten

"You can still make this right, Allison. We can talk to-" "okay, you're done." I'd finally had enough and flicked my hand back at him, silence spreading across the room."

Sitting at the table, I hear the door rattle. I take another deep breath before Dean enters the room, gun first. "Permitte telum." His gun flies to me and I take out the magazine, throwing it across the room as I set the gun on the table.

Exponentially confused, Dean stares at me. "Who the hell are you?" I roll my eyes. He thinks I'm some sort of shifter or demon maybe. I bend over to grab my bag and pull out a knife. A small scratch at the wrist proves I'm myself.
"Sit down."

Refusing to do what I say, he reaches behind himself, eyes crazy with adrenaline. "Don't pull anything else out, Dean. No use," I remind him.
"Where's Sam."

I raise my eyebrows. Sam was still just across the room, but mute and completely invisible to Dean. Questioning myself, I stay quiet for a moment. Sam's words had gotten to me, even if I refused to admit it. Crowley would come looking for me if he even thought I was alive. I hadn't forgotten that he still owned my soul, he could cash it in at anytime.

I bow my head and wave my hand toward the corner of the room, revealing Sam to his brother. Their frantic voices fade away as I rethink my plan.

Once Sam was untied, he held a hand out in front of Dean, keeping him from coming toward me. "We need your help, Allison."

Begrudgingly, I look up at him, my lips pursed in indecision. Dean doesn't look too keen on the idea either. "You fucking killed me!" I yell at him, unable to keep the dam from bursting.

"We know Crowley's coming for you, for your soul too. We can make it right, I can make it right." Sam points a finger at me as he talks, holding onto his sincerity. Dean casts a confusing glance at me, one that could mean thousands of things.

"If I die," I march up to Sam, knowing he'll take me more seriously than Dean would. I wasn't even sure if Dean would look at me. "I'll drag you down with me."

He was so tall and scary, such a juxtaposition to his personality. I'd spent almost a full day alone with him and hadn't even realized how simply beautiful his delicate face was. He'd turned into some big strong man while I was gone, one I'd never met before. They'd been focusing on my transformation while I'd been ignoring both of theirs'. I took a small step back, all of a sudden shocked by the two brothers standing in front of me.

Sam nods understandably at me, acknowledging my statement. "But you're doing this our way. You will listen to what we say, then we'll keep you alive," Dean informs me, his voice low and threatening.

"Not so much," I bite back, grabbing my bag. "I'm not a soldier, I'm a fucking ally. I don't follow your orders, sergeant." He angers at my reply but doesn't respond. Dean walks in front of us to his car, Sam walking cautiously next to me.

"If it's me or you, I'm choosing me. I hope you know that." I keep an eye on Dean as I talk to Sam, making sure he was somewhere I could see his hands.

"I know," Sam tells me, his voice monotone and serious as always as he unlocks the passenger car door.

——

Sam and Dean forced me to stay at their friend's shitty cabin so they could make sure I wasn't 'killing people.' Every day started to feel more and more like imprisonment than companionship. They weren't even around a good amount of the time. I'd been there for two weeks and seen them only twice. I was bored, the fat old man always lurking around to spy on me. I felt like a book just waiting to be picked off the shelf when I was needed. I didn't want to be handed back to Crowley, but this wasn't much better.

"Great, I would've loved a sandwich, Bobby," I snap at the man sitting at the table next to me. He was a minor irritant at most times, a dull presence in the small space, but also my only company. I had to put up with his ill temper and crankiness.

"You're making a goddamn pie, aren't you? Eat that." I storm away and check the small manual timer sitting on top of the oven. Two minutes left.

I sigh. This was what my life had come to. It was once full of spontaneity and adventure, now I was waiting for my apple pie to come out of the oven. I felt like I'd been reduced to house wife status.

Suddenly, fresh faces burst through the door. "Help." The Winchesters basically break the hinges off the screen, Sam falling over Dean's shoulder. "He was shot."

I stand still in the kitchen, watching Bobby rush over to them to help Sam on the couch. I could fix him, get the bullet out of him a lot quicker than Dean or Bobby could, but I hold back, watching.

Sam pulls up his shirt with a pain filled groan, a gaping entry wound directly under his left rib. He quickly covered it, blood spilling over the gaps in between his fingers.

"Get the kit, Dean." Bobby barks at him, but Dean's eyes were locked on Sam. "Now, boy!" Finally, Dean scurries off as Sam moans on the couch.

"Can you fix this?" Bobby hastily asks me, kneeling over the couch. I open my mouth but fail to speak. Sam rolls his head back to glance helplessly at me.

"Goddamnit," I sigh, brushing my hand on my thigh then walking over. "Move." Bobby slides over and lets me kneel right beside Sam. Dean stumbles back in just as I rest my hand over Sam's heart. "I can make sure he stays alive, doesn't lose anymore blood, while you take it out."

Dean makes his way beside me, grabbing a pair of medical forceps. "Why do you have those?"

"This isn't the first time one of us has been shot," he tells me, hovering over Sam's wound.

When the forceps penetrate Sam's stomach, he bucks his hips. "You have to calm down," I tell him, jerkily rolling around under my hand. I wrap my other hand around his shoulder and try to make him breathe steadily. His long, shaky breaths vibrate under my hand, but they work well enough. No more blood seeps from his wound.

Sweat soaks through Sam's shirt when Dean finally pulls out the bullet. I release my grip on him, not releasing how tight it had been. Sam takes to wrapping his own bandage just as my timer goes off.

"What is that," Dean questions as I stand and grab a cloth. "It's my apple pie," I inform him. It was perfect, a picturesque pie. I set it down on the stove and admire it as Dean pads over to look at it next to me.

"And all I thought you were good for was snarky comebacks," he jokes at me, a quipped smile on his face.

"If I'd have known you'd be coming, I wouldn't have made it." I collide with his shoulder as I turn to walk back to the couch. Sam and Dean would be setting up shop for a bit. I knew Dean would get spooked by the injury, secretly desire to keep Sam locked up and away from danger. It was still good news to me, even though I had to share the space. It just meant I'd be spared another day before facing Lucifer.