The Huntress ➳Allison Argent

A Memory

Allison is sure of two things.

One is that monsters are real.. and two is that her name is Allison.

After Dean's bombshell, she had eaten her soup and crackers in silence. Sam had been casting her cautious little looks and walking on eggshells around her, but Dean had just kept on eating as if her dying was no big deal. The soup, crackers and water had surprisingly filled her up, and when she asked again about a shower, Sam had finally conceded and showed her to the bathroom.

"I, uh, we don't really have clothes that will fit you," Sam had sheepishly explained. "If you don't mind, we can lend you a shirt and some old running shorts of mine."

"That's fine."

Her gaze had been stuck on the floor, so she didn't see as Sam hurriedly left the room for a brief moment. Instead, her mind is stuck on the fact that she died. She knows, at least she feels like, that she should be hysterical and raging and denying everything about monsters and her death, but she's oddly at peace with everything. She's accepted every word that's been told to her and in her nearly blank mind, she knows it's the truth.

A door clicking shut had startled her from her thoughts and when she looked up, she found Sam clutching a pair of shorts in hand before heading straight for a duffel bag on the floor. He made quick work of rummaging through it and producing a blue plaid button-up, he then heading for her and handing the two items over.

So now Allison stands in the dingy bathroom and staring at her reflection in the mirror. Dark, nearly purple skin beneath her eyes makes the rest of her skin look unnaturally pale- at least in comparison to the brothers outside the door- and smudges of dirt coat any available skin she can see. Dark, limp hair hangs just a smidgen past her shoulders and she runs her fingers through it only to frown at the small clumps of dirt that fall out.

Setting down her borrowed clothes atop the closed toilet lid, Allison strips. The green military jacket is salvageable so she shakes it off and tosses it on the sink counter. The white cotton dress, however, is not. She takes a moment to stare at the reflection of the simple white dress that was once pretty when she notices something odd. There's a mark on her left forearm- the skin darker there than everywhere else- and when she lifts her arm to take a look at it instead of staring at the reflection of it, she finds that the skin is raised. Blistered almost.

Frowning, Allison traces the raised skin with her right hand and rotates her arm to see the whole thing. The mark has what appears to be a palm and fingers, and then it suddenly clicks as to what she's looking at. It's the same mark as Dean had showed her on his own arm- the hand print of the angel that pulled them from Hell.

She studies the mark for a few moments before snapping out of it, she then stripping out of her cotton dress. The dirt is clinging too much to the white material, so figuring it's a lost cause, Allison tosses the dress into the small trashcan in the corner. Her bra appears in good shape as do the black short tights she has on over her underwear. And since there's no other option for bra and panties, Allison shrugs and puts them aside to put back on until she can ask the brothers to get her some more.

She turns on the shower easily enough, the cold water making her flinch and she only steps in under the weak water pressure when the room is starting to fill with steam. She stands under the water long enough to soak her hair and until her skin is tinged pink, and then the dirt slides down the water drain with help from the suds that she had lathered up in her hands thanks to a small bar of soap. There's a cheap bottle of the two-in-one shampoo/conditioner combo and even though it smells manly, Allison goes ahead and lathers her hair with it.

She doesn't know how long she's been in the shower, but when the water starts running cold she figures it's time to get out. She wrings out the excess water from her hair before grabbing the dark green towel she saw hanging on the wall rack next to the shower stall, and wraps that around her body. After drying off, she wraps her hair in the towel before pulling on her underwear and bra, followed by the black short tights. Sam's running shorts don't fit, even with the draw string being pulled as tight as it will go, so she decides to forgo them and hopes the men aren't too uncomfortable with her tights. The plaid button-up falls to her knees and after buttoning up the buttons- only leaving the very top one one undone- Allison then rolls up the sleeves to her elbows.