Hey all, this is my first fanfiction. It's not quite what I'm used to writing, so please give any feedback you can! :)
The basic premise behind this story is that Sam never killed Lilith, and the apocalypse never happened. It's canon through some of Season 4, but I haven't figured out where the break happened. Since the apocalypse never happened, Bobby isn't in a wheelchair, Ellen and Jo are still alive, and San never went into the cage. Mainly I just wanted to write something where all the characters were relatively happy because they obviously don't get enough of that in the show. Mild language, mentions of abuse, and some blood/gore. Dean/Jo because I thought they could be a cute couple, Bobby/Ellen might come in eventually.
I hope to post a new chapter every few days, the way it looks at the moment it's going to be a pretty long story but I'll try to keep up with it as homework and life allows.
EDIT: Just so you know, this is NOT season 8 canon-Amelia. :) Totally new OC.
She faded from pain to pain. Nightmares, horrible images in her mind, to nightmares, horrible images played out before her waking eyes. Blood. Screams. Begging. She could barely think anymore. There was only pain. And sometimes a voice. A weak voice, that called to her.
"Amy," it said, "come on, stay with me, Aim. Don't go, don't give in. It will be all right. Come on Aim."
She trusted the voice, trusted its owner. But she couldn't obey. She didn't have the strength or the will. Again she drifted off. When she came back, she didn't hear the voice anymore. Nothing. She winced, and forced her eyes open. In the dim shadows, bodies dangled by their wrists from chains, feet barely scraping the floor. Her family, some of them. Her mother, brother, sister-in-law. She had to guess at her mother, though, the corpse was so bloodied and mutilated that she could not be sure. The stench slammed into her, all of a sudden, and she dry heaved. Pain lanced up her arms. Her shoulder had been dislocated a while ago, from her whole weight hanging by her arm.
"Paul," she grunted, and stared at her brother. "Paul."
No response came from the beaten body. Slowly, she closed her eyes, and drifted off into the pain again. A single tear rolled down her face, rinsing away blood and sweat and dirt in a tiny track.
After eternities, another voice echoed into her exhausted mind. She tried to grasp the words, but they slipped away. Her brain had gone fuzzy. But the voice went on and on, shouting sometimes. Then she felt a hand on her face. Coming back into herself suddenly, she wrenched away, eyes flying open. The last adrenaline in her battered body flooded into her blood.
"Hey! Hey, hey, hey," the voice said.
In the dim light, she saw a young man standing in front of her, plaid dressed, hand frozen in the air where it had touched her face. He stared at her, and smiled reassuringly.
"I'm here to help, alright?" he said gently. "I'll get you down now."
"They'll," she coughed, and tried to take a breath. "They'll kill... you," she managed to get out.
He smirked, and raised his other hand to waggle the silver handgun he held. "Love to see them try, honey."
He stood on tiptoe, and reached above her head, fumbling at the chains. After a few moments, she heard a click, and the pressure suddenly released from her wrists. Her legs buckled underneath her, and she would have fallen, except for the arm suddenly wrapped around her.
"Let's get moving, I don't want you here if they get back. Can you walk?"
"Paul," she croaked, and by sheer force of will, got her legs under her again and lunged forward stumbling.
In seconds, she made her way to her brother. "Come on, Paul," she whispered, reaching up to his face. She took his head in her good hand, lifted it from his chest. "Paul, we can get out now." She cradled his limp head in her weak hand, and it flopped around. "Paul."
She felt rather than heard the man behind her. "We have to leave."
Her hand shook too much to feel her brother's pulse. "I won't leave him."
A hand gripped her shoulder. "He's gone, I already checked."
"No," she sobbed, and tried to wipe a trickle of dried blood from his face. "No, he can't be gone, he can't be." Now her whole body started to shake.
He took her hands in his, and tried to guide her away from the body, but she tore away with a scream. "No, they hurt him enough already, I won't let them hurt him, won't let them hurt him."
Without a word, suddenly the man stepped forward, and swept her off her feet.
"No!" she struggled, but she had no strength against his strong arms. With a sob, she tried to roll out, but he gripped her too tightly.
"Hey now, I'm on your side, I'm getting you out," he tried to reassure her, as he carried her out. "I'm Dean, ok? What's your name?"
Her whole body shook, and her shoulder screamed in pain every time he took a step. "Amelia," she told him. She just wanted it to be over, just wanted to be finished with this horrible pain, and the pain of remembering. Oh God, why did she have to remember that. She couldn't stop the sob. "They killed everyone, just ripped them apart."
"Dean!" The voice echoed to her from somewhere.
"I'm here Sam, I got the only survivor," the man carrying her called out.
Only survivor. She stopped struggling. Stopped caring, almost. Except for one thing. Not herself, or her life. Only blood would answer blood. And as she drifted off, she made herself a promise.
