Sam comes home Thursday night, keys rattling in the lock, anxious to get inside and see Amelia.
Comes home. That sounds nice, after all those years when home was a dusty old car and a brother, but it hurts too much to think about those days. He pushes the memories away and pushes the door open. This is his home now.
Something's off, something in the silence of the house. The breeze flows through an open window. Amelia never leaves windows open; she hates that breeze.
Sam immediately reaches for the gun stashed in his waistband. It's been months since Dean and Cas disappeared, and months since Sam went on a hunt, but old habits die hard.
He drops his bag on the floor with a soft thunk and cocks the pistol.
It only takes a moment to case the room. Amelia's nowhere to be found, but there's a smear of blood on the lowest stair and oh God oh God not again this can't be happening.
Sam struggles to stay professional, but all he can think of is Jess on the ceiling, the heat of the fire licking at his skin, the screams ripping themselves from his chest.
He thought he left that life behind, maybe for good, he thought he would be safe with Amelia. He should have known better.
He takes the stairs two at a time, quiet as a cat. He's in a rush to find Amelia, but he knows to be careful.
Quickly he makes it to the bedroom, and there's Amelia on her side, facing away, hair matted with dark red and oh God. He raises the gun, glancing into all the corners of the room, before running to her side.
"Oh God, Amelia, you can't be dead, don't be-" Sam remembers Dean's lifeless eyes, his chest ripped to shreds by the hellhounds, remembers how it felt when Dean's body went cold, and all he can think is this can't be happening again.
But then Amelia rolls over, eyes bright, smile wide. "Happy Halloween!" she says.
Sam's heart drops from his chest. She's alive, she's breathing, and that red in her hair isn't blood, she doesn't have a scratch on her. His vision starts to go fuzzy, and Amelia is saying something to him but he can't quite hear her words. He falls to his knees, hands pressing hard against his forehead.
The smile drops from Amelia's face, and she mouths something, something worried, but Sam feels like he's a fly trapped in molasses. He can't understand why she did this. The blood on the stairs, it looked so real, and he thought she was dead.
"Sam!" she says, and the word brings him back. He gasps for air and wraps a hand around her wrist.
She tries to pull away, but he doesn't let her, only holds on tighter. He feels her pulse, strong and steady and there. She's not dead.
"Sam, you're hurting me!"
He looks up at her, eyes unseeing, and finally it registers in him what's happened, and what today is. "Oh." Sam drops her wrist.
"Honey? What's going on?"
"I-"
"I'm sorry, I didn't know you'd take this so seriously." She tucks a loose curl behind her ear, and it's stained with not-blood-not-blood after all these years Sam should have been able to recognize that. "It's Halloween! I thought you'd like a little prank."
"You're okay," he says, words breathy and relieved and disoriented.
"Yeah, I'm fine… Are you?"
"No," he says. "Oh God, Amelia, I thought-"
"What's going on, Sam? Just tell me why you're so freaked out!"
I saw my last girlfriend die, he wants to say. She was eviscerated and set on fire and I couldn't save her. I couldn't bear it if I lost you the same way.
Sooner or later, his past will catch up to him. He can't keep running. He can't draw Amelia into this.
But right now, she's his lifeline, the only thing keeping him from succumbing to the nightmares.
"Sam? Did you really fall for my prank?"
"I thought you were dead," he chokes out. "I thought someone-" or something, "-murdered you."
She lets out a shaky laugh. "Come on, Sam, what's out there to get me? This isn't some CSI show. These things don't happen in real life."
"Yes, they do," he says, and reaches for his pistol, abandoned on the bed when he saw her lying still. The cool metal in his hands will keep him safe. He can protect Amelia. She's safe, she's safe.
Dean's not safe, Dean's dead, and it might be your fault, his mind tells him.
No. He has to focus on this. He has to focus on Amelia, living and breathing.
"Seriously, Sam? Are you sure you're okay?"
"It was a prank," he says, "for Halloween. You're safe."
"I'm safe. Why wouldn't I be?"
He curls up against her knees and holds on tightly. "Oh God, Amelia, don't ever do something like that again. It's not funny."
"I can tell." She laughs once, then sobers up. "I'm sorry, I promise. I didn't know you'd get so freaked out over a prank."
She strokes his hair, calming down his racing heart. He just breathes and comes back to himself. The panic attack subsides.
Finally, he crawls up to sit beside her on the edge of the bed.
For the first time, she sees the gun in his hand. "Sam? What's that?"
He looks at the gun, the familiar pistol he's carried since he was twelve years old. She looks at him, at the gun, like he's a monster. She might be right. "It's nothing. Something I keep from- from the old days. I thought you were in danger, so I-"
"You idiot," she says, batting him lightly. "Do you even know how to shoot that thing?"
I can kill over a hundred different ways. I can kill men, but I can kill vampires too, and demons and shifters and werewolves and even angels. I've been shooting a gun since I was in middle school.
"Yeah, a bit," is what he says. He pops out the clip of the gun, the motion familiar to his muscles, and lays it on the bedside table. "Amelia… Don't… I couldn't bear it if you… If you're ever in danger, I don't know what I would do. That wasn't funny."
Amelia rubs his back in soothing circles. "What's going on with you, Sam? I mean, you've always been the mysterious type, but this is odd, even for you. It was just a harmless prank."
He shakes his head, folds into himself. Now that the Leviathans are gone, he thought he'd be safe. He thought he could settle down and leave the life. He should have known better. He thought that when he settled with Jess, and look what happened to her. He shouldn't have been so careless with Amelia's life. Next time, it might not be a harmless prank. Next time, she might be eviscerated on the ceiling.
Sam bolts into action, down the stairs to his duffel, digging through to find an old necklace. It became obsolete when he got his tattoo, but maybe it can be of some use again. Amelia follows him, more slowly, and they settle together on the couch in the living room.
"Put this on," he says, handing her the necklace.
"What is it?"
"Just put it on. And never take it off. Promise me you'll never take this off."
She looks at him, eyebrows raised, but slips the charm over her head. "You're scaring me, Sam. What is this thing? It looks like some Satanic…"
"It's an anti-possession charm. Promise me you'll always wear it. Promise."
"Sam?"
"It'll keep you safe. I couldn't… Amelia, if you were in danger… This will protect you, for the times when I can't. Promise me you'll wear it."
She breathes out through her nose. "I promise."
The muscles in his shoulders relax. "Thank you."
"Sam, you need to talk to me. You need to tell me what's going on." She fingers the anti-possession necklace nervously.
Sam doesn't know what to say. He hasn't told Amelia anything, anything at all, except that Dean's gone. She doesn't know him. He can't tell her.
But he has to give her something. "The last time I settled down… The last time I fell in love… Amelia, she died. She was murdered. I thought-"
"You thought it had happened to me." Her eyes are wide and full of pity. "Oh God, Sam, why didn't you tell me?"
He lays his head in his hands. He can't look at her when she's pitying him like this. "It was a long time ago. And we talked about the pitying thing. I didn't want your pity. But that's why I freaked. I just… I can't lose you, too. It was my fault she died."
"I'm sure it wasn't your fault, Sam-"
"No, it was. She died because I was too slow to see the signs and save her. I didn't think they could touch her, but they did, and she… I can't let the same thing happen to you."
Amelia wraps an arm around him. "Okay, if you think this necklace will help, I promise to wear it. And I promise I won't die."
"You can't promise that," he says. "You don't know what's out there."
"And you do? Sam, you said you didn't think they could touch her. Who's 'they'?"
He dares a glance upward. He hadn't meant to let that slip out. "Nobody. Nothing. I just…"
"Are you part of the mafia or something?"
"No." He laughs. "It's nothing like that."
"Are you dangerous?"
He can't exactly respond to that.
"Sam, are you dangerous?"
"I won't hurt you," he says.
"That doesn't answer my question."
"I won't hurt you," he repeats, more firmly. That's all he can promise.
She scoots away from him slightly. "What aren't you telling me?"
He can't quite meet her eyes. Sam never meant to let it get this involved. He won't tell her the truth. He can't. "I… I can't tell you. But you have to trust me. I'll keep you safe."
"And you kept that last girl safe too, did you?" she bites back. But she immediately regrets her words. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that."
"No, you're right. Last time, last time I was unprepared. I thought I could get out. This time I know better. I won't let anything happen to you, Amelia."
She looks like she wants to run, but Amelia's always been bold. It's why he fell in love with her. She didn't look at him with pity in her eyes. She didn't ask prying questions. She accepted him.
"And you? You'll be safe, too?"
He smiles a little and pulls aside the collar of his shirt. She's seen his tattoo before, and wondered what it meant, but now she recognizes it as the same one on her necklace. An anti-possession charm, he said.
"Oh," she says quietly. The importance of the necklace finally sinks in. "Okay. I won't take off the necklace, then."
"Don't. And don't ever play something like that again. It's not funny, not for me, not when I really think you…"
"Sam, am I going to get hurt by being with you?"
He shakes his head. "No. I promise. It won't happen again. I promise."
And for some crazy reason, she trusts him.