The Huntress ➳Allison Argent

Father & Daughter

Allison had watched from the backseat of the Impala as her father arrived at the cheap motel he and Dean had agreed upon meeting at. The sight of him and his salt-and-pepper colored hair and beard was nearly enough to make her happily cry out, as well as the familiar way he strutted across the parking lot. It was only after he disappeared inside the room that Allison climbed out the vehicle, taking up space just outside the motel room door and listening as her father and Winchesters hashed things out.

She hears as Dean tells her father what's going on and the way her father refuses to believe any of it. There's some muffled reasoning going on and then someone's opening the room door.

"Hey, Alli? You can come in now."

Sucking in a sharp breath, Allison prepares herself for all sorts of possibilities. Will her father immediately try to kill her for impersonating his daughter? Or will be break down and cry, and wrap her in a fatherly hug?

Sam peeks his head out the door, flashing her a small reassuring smile. Then taking a deep breath, Allison steps forward. She lingers a moment just before stepping into the doorway and then she takes the last step. It's like a slow-mo moment, her gaze travelling from the ugly carpet flooring to her father's boots and up and up and up.

His green eyes are widened in shock, his grip lax on the gun he holds in hand. Then like a switch being flipped, Chris is scowling as he takes aim once more.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean shouts, rushing to stand in front of Allison. "It's your daughter, man. What the hell's wrong with you?!"

"I buried my daughter years ago."

"Yeah and if you go dig up the grave, you'll find that it's empty. Angels, man. Freakin' angels!"

Chris doesn't waver, his gaze turning hard and cold at Allison who's torn between crying and coming to terms as to why her dad is freaking out.

"Look," Sam says, coming to stand between the group. "Trust me, Mr. Argent, we know this is confusing, but this is something we wouldn't lie about. See for yourself. Ask something only your daughter would know."

Chris wavers. Moments pass and then his gaze darts back to Allison who's peeking over Dean's shoulder. As he gulps, his aim hesitantly lowers. "As hunters," he says, pausing slightly, "we live by a code. What's our code?"

Chewing the corner of her lip nervously, Allison steps out from behind Dean with her hands shoved into the pockets of her shorts and head angled down as if she's afraid to meet her own father's gaze. "I-It depends on which code you're referring to," she says. "Do you want to hear the code that we were raised on? Or the code I changed it to after mom passed and I took up her position since in our family females are the leaders?"

Apparently that's all Chris needs to hear, a choked off sob escaping his throat. "Allison..?"

"Yeah, dad," she smiles cautiously at him when she looks up. "It's me."

There's a sudden click from his gun when he puts the safety on, his arms then falling limp to his sides. The gun gets tossed to one of the beds and he only makes it a step forward before Allison's launching herself at him. They're wrapped tightly up in a hug, tears falling silently down Chris' face whereas Allison is full on sobbing/laughing in relief.

It takes the newly reunited father and daughter a moment before Chris pulls back, he holding Allison at arm's length away to study her. But he sees whatever he's looking for and then he's wrapping his arms tightly around her once more while resting his chin atop her head.

"How- how is this even possible?" Chris breathes in disbelief.

"Like they said.. angels," she mumbles.