From The Very Beginning

In My Time of Dying

It was late in the evening when Allie was startled awake by a nightmare. Sweat dripped from her forehead. The beating in her chest flared her anxiety to the roof and a ghostly breath passed her lips. When she turned Dean and Sam were both asleep. It didn't make sense to wake them. They were dealing with more than her. They needed rest. They deserved it. She gently climbed out of bed so as to not wake Dean and grabbed a joint from her purse. Sometimes she smoked pot to relax, though not often anymore. Only a minute later she was outside and sitting on the trunk of the Impala staring up at the stars. It was a crisp and cool night. The weed didn't help.

Dean's eyes shot open at the soft sound of fabric brushing, his senses instantly alert as he felt Allie slipping out of bed. He knew she was probably just going for a smoke break or to clear her head after that nightmare; it happened sometimes when they had been through something intense like tonight. He watched silently from beneath his eyelids as she made her way outside, unable to resist the urge to sneak out himself and join her in silence. He knew Sam wouldn't approve, but he needed to be near her; the pull to protect her was too damn strong. He carefully crept out of bed and made his way outside, stopping just behind the Impala where she sat on its trunk, staring up at the stars. "Hey," he whispered, leaning against the car beside her. The night air was cool against his bare chest, sending shivers down his spine that had nothing to do with the temperature drop.

"You good?"

She was quiet for a long moment, gaze never leaving the sky. The moon looked nice. The view was clear and brilliant; starkly different from her own mindset. Allie wasn't generally one to open up. Being vulnerable was hard. "I...don't know." She admitted and chewed the bottom of her lip before offering the joint to him. "You know... when my mom was dying I told myself that nothing would ever break my heart again. Well, nothing else." She ran a hand over her face. "Guess I shot myself in the foot because now it breaks a million times for the same reason." Perhaps it would be poetic if it wasn't so god damn melancholy. But... Dean would understand. Finally, somebody would! They didn't usually talk about it but tonight? Well... tonight she was sad. Sometimes it felt like she was dragging herself out of a void.

Dean accepted the joint gratefully, taking a long drag before exhaling slowly into the night air. "I know what you mean," he murmured, his voice low enough not to wake Sam but close enough for her to hear him clearly. He hadn't lost anyone as close as she had - not yet – but there were plenty of people who had died because of their chosen path in life; innocents caught up in something they didn't deserve to be part of. He had lost his mother but he was only four at the time. "It gets easier,"

Allie sighed. "Yeah, they say that..." she trailed off and turned away from him. "It's bullshit though. Hate to break it to you." Was it depressing? Yes. Was it true? Well, she thought so. "It doesn't get easier. The ache stays it just becomes... different." It had been six years since she lost her mother. "The worst part is one day you just start forgetting. You forget their voice, their smell, the way they told stories... then you start forgetting their face." In a way, the nightmares kept her mother alive. One day she would lose those too.

Dean reached out a comforting hand, gently squeezing hers in solidarity. "I know it doesn't," he said softly, his voice thick with unshed emotion. "But you don't forget them, Allie." He took another drag from the joint before passing it back to her. "They stay with us; they always will. They become part of who we are, part of our story – even if sometimes that sucks ass." He leaned forward slightly, their shoulders brushing against each other lightly as he turned towards her.

She took the weed gratefully and absorbed a long drag. "Thanks for turning me into a hero." Allie noted and the words sounded light. They were kind and sensitive. These moments... they were few and far between but they were why she had grown so close with Dean. Sure, they may have acted like idiots together most of the time but deep down they had common understandings that other people just didn't have. "Are you... okay? I know that you miss your dad and you're staying strong for Sam-- but you don't have to do that with me." She turned to look at him, the pad of her thumb gently stroking the back of his hand.