The Huntress ➳Allison Argent

Explanations

Allison walks into the bar with Dean and Sam at her back, she being thankful for the low light all bars tend to have. For one, the angelic hand print is still visible on her arm though it's not as dark as it once was, and another because she's for sure going to bruise around her neck and is positive she has dirt smudges on her face.

Speaking of bruising, however, she gently massages both sides of her neck as she glances over her shoulder at Sam. "I hate witches."

Sam's lips twitch and Dean outright laughs. His hands clamp down on Allison's shoulders and she grimaces before looking forward as Dean steers her. "Hey, we all made it out alive so no complainin'. It ain't a hunt if you don't get thrown into a wall or a tree or a car."

As the trio find themselves a nice little booth, Dean pushes Allison into one side and slides in next her, he letting Sam take the the side opposite them but not before instructing Sam to get the first round of drinks. "Can't let the lightweight take advantage of my little brother again," he muses. Allison snorts though her cheeks tint pink, and Sam rolls his eyes before departing to get their beers. "And also, my glare's a lot meaner than Sammy's. I'm not liking all the stares you're getting," Dean then grumbles. "Stupid Charlie and her inappropriate clothing."

This time, Allison laughs. Her black Gypsy Cami top with shoulder cut-outs is rather tame, especially since it's paired with black denim high waisted shorts, black checkered tights, and steampunk wedge ankle boots. "Relax," she grins. "Majority of the clothing Charlie keeps sending to the bunker are for actual undercover missions- her words, not mine- but she did say that I could wear whatever caught my attention. This is the most skin I'll ever show outside of the bunker."

"Good."

"And besides," she continues. "I have to show off my tattoo. I did get it for a reason, you know. To show off."

Dean huffs as he glances at said arrow tattoo on the back of her bicep, he then smirking at the ink she's proudly displaying. Dean gets comfortable, stripping out of his outer jacket and Allison sits with her back against the wall. Sam soon returns with a tray of beers and shots, and the trio are soon drinking their beer as if it were water and laughing about their hunt from earlier that night.

They decide to leave before anyone is truly tipsy and as Dean heads to the bar to pay for their tab, Allison links arms with Sam and heads for the exit. The parking lot is empty, so Sam's not too embarrassed when he trips over a cement car stop. Allison steps aside and laughs at his misfortune, only as she keeps taking steps she bumps into someone.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," she laughs without really looking at the person she's hit.

She briefly glances up at the tall, muscled man clad in a leather jacket, her eyes roaming over him distractedly as he mumbles something back that sounds like don't worry about it. When she tries to step back towards Sam, however, all amusement flees when a hand clamps around her wrist.

"Allison?" She's immediately scowling since the man has put his hands on her, but the use of her name has her freezing like a deer in headlights. She sees anger quickly morph in Sam's features, followed by fear as he too freezes. "Allison Argent?"

She finally glances at the man, the emotion in his cracking voice intriguing her enough to answer him. "Yeah?" Half the man's face is covered in a closely shaven beard, the hair atop his head cropped short yet still long enough to be decently styled. When she meets his wide-eyed gaze, pain explodes within her brain.

Her eyes flutter shut and she sways, but Sam lunges forward to steady her. He yanks her arm free from the stranger's grasp and pulls Allison back, but Allison's mumbling stops him. "No. Don't," she whimpers. Her hands fly up to her temples as her breathing stutters, she weakly trying to point at the stranger. "I- I know him. How do- how do I know him? Der-" Her eyes clamp shut and she groans in pain, and both the man and Sam stop glaring at one another in favor of glancing down at Allison. She whimpers in pain, her knees finally giving out and after crying out at one particular wave of pain, and she goes quiet and limp as Sam easily heaves her up into his arms.