I don't own Supernatural. Darn. I do own Asher Michaels and this story, excluding the bits from the show. My friend Shauna owns Amelia Shaw, and I am using her in my story with her permission. This fic is rated for violence, blood, language, drinking, sexual situations and, hopefully, some scary shit. I don't know how good I will be at writing scary stuff since I've never actually tried before. Enjoy the stories.
Monster Hospital, Book Four: Angels.
Chapter Nine: Amelia the Angel?
He couldn't believe what he was seeing.
Not the sitting silently starting at each other, not even the slight downturn to Asher's lips or the wide eyes that told him Amelia was freaked out. That was all at least somewhat normal; something he had seen before. What he couldn't believe was the animosity radiating from Asher and directed at Amelia. What he couldn't believe was that the only other pair of siblings he had met who were as close as he and Sam were falling apart because of a change in one of them. An uncontrollable change. What he couldn't believe was that Asher, who had been bitten and transformed into a werewolf years ago was about to abandon her sister who had stuck by her through all the pain and suffering.
He wanted to hit Asher, to yell and scream and shake her and tell her what an idiot she was being. The only thing that kept him from doing that was he knew Asher wanted to do the same thing to herself. He could tell she felt guilty for feeling the way she did.
So, he contented himself with leaning up against the window sill, cold beer in one hand and lukewarm slice of pizza in the other, watching and waiting to see if anything more would erupt out of this conversation, or lack thereof, as it were. Sam was seated at the Formica excuse for a dining table, picking at his own slice of pizza and drinking far more than he normally did, but Dean chalked that up to the stressful situation they were all currently in. His younger brother had been acting a little weird since they had reunited at the motel, like he'd had sixteen cups of super-caffeinated coffee or something, but now was not the time to question him about that. Dean's energy had been sapped by the encounter with Castiel and they still had to deal with Amelia.
Asher's words came back to him: why couldn't this just be easy?
Dean would never tell anyone this, but at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to have a normal life where when you died, you stayed dead and your sister didn't spontaneously show signs of being connected to angels.
A few moments later, when the pizza was stone cold and there was only one bottle of beer gone, Asher pushed herself to her feet and made a beeline for Dean, the look in her dark blue eyes betraying how lost she felt. Taking the silent cue, Dean grabbed the hard liquor from his duffel bag and the pair once again made their way to the roof of the motel, leaving Amelia and Sam to whatever it was they wanted to do. Probably talk about their feelings. Or something.
Who was Dean kidding? He knew that was what awaited him on the roof.
Asher perched perilously on the railing, the top of which was wide enough for her to sit cross-legged. Someone had left an old lawn chair up there at some point and Dean chose that to sit on after making sure it would hold his weight. He positioned it so he could face Asher and put his feet up on the stone railing. He unscrewed the cap on the bottle of scotch and took a long drink, letting the warmth of the alcohol chase away the early autumn chill in the air, and then passed the bottle to Asher who proceeded to chug down a good few shots' worth.
"Easy there," Dean cautioned half-heartedly. Asher's werewolf metabolism could handle a lot more booze than his, even though he was well-experienced in the area of inebriating beverages.
She gave him a bit of a grin, showing too much teeth for it to really be a happy gesture. "Fuck you," she snapped before giving him the bottle.
"Are you and Amelia going to be okay?" he asked tentatively.
Asher shrugged. "I was sure we would be, especially when she started acting more like herself after Castiel left, but... Dean, I don't know if we will. This isn't the kind of change you get over." She sighed and eagerly took a swig when Dean once again gave her the bottle. "When I became a werewolf, I didn't really change that much personality-wise. Amelia's changed. Like really, really changed and I don't know what to do. Or if I can handle it." She looked at him, the full weight of her guilt visible in her face. "I hate myself for this Dean. I shouldn't be thinking these things, but she's not my Amelia anymore, as much as she insists she is."
Dean frowned. "She says she hasn't changed?"
"No, not that. She just says that everything I know about her is true, that she's still the Amelia I know, who I took in as my little sister. She's still that weird little girl I found wandering around the woods."
"And you don't believe her?"
"I don't know. How can I? She had this whole other part of her hiding away. Granted, she didn't know it was there, but…" The sigh Asher gave that time was harsh, loud and frustrated. She dropped her head into his hands and Dean could see the skin on her fingers mottling as she tensed. When she looked up again, her eyes were shimmering like she was about to cry. The tears didn't fall though. "I don't know if I can handle this, but I have to! I can't leave! I can't give her to someone else! She stuck with me through the worst part of me being a werewolf. She kept me from going crazy and killing anyone. And… and I still love her, but Dean, what the hell am I supposed to do?"
Dean stood up and wrapped his arms around the werewolf, aware that he could feel the heat of her body even through her long-sleeved shirt. She always ran several degrees hotter than the average human. It was something Dean liked about her, actually. "I don't know, Ash, I really don't."
She returned the hug and slid off the railing so she could press her face into Dean's neck, nuzzling him like a dog would have. After a few seconds, she pulled back enough to look up at him. "I don't want to leave tomorrow morning."
He dropped his arms so they were around her waist and he could pull her closer. "Then don't."
"We've got to," she sighed. "We're on the search for answers. And I'm hoping something that will make Amelia act like herself again." She put her forehead on Dean's shoulder. "Am I a terrible person for thinking these things?"
"Maybe a little bit."
"Thanks."
"Hey, you asked."
"I know, I know." She looked up at him again and the shimmering in her eyes was gone, replaced by the normal spark. "Are you and Sam going to be okay?"
Dean knew she was referring to the row he and Sam had had once they'd all met back at the motel. As was often the case, Dean couldn't really remember what was said, but he knew it had something to do with Hell and hunting for Castiel. He tended to block those fights out. No one likes to remember fights with the siblings. Not really. "We always are, aren't we? This is common ground for us Winchesters. Not so for you guys."
She shrugged again. "I just thought I'd ask since it was kind of my fault you realized something was off."
Ah yes, the demon smell. Dean's thoughts never rested too long on that uncomfortable thought. Why would Sam smell like a demon? What could possibly cause that bizarre side-effect? If it wasn't for Asher's nose, he may have never noticed the slight differences to his brother's behaviour. As it was, he had nowhere to start questioning Sam, so Dean was doing his best to keep the thoughts at the back of his mind until he had some evidence that he could sense. So, he held Asher closer and pressed his face into the hair by her ear, breathing in the smell of her and once again wishing things were easy.
"What do you think I am Sam?" Amelia asked, rolling onto her side so she could look at the taller Winchester. They were lying on one of the beds in the room, staring at the ceiling. They had been talking about the most random, mundane things they could think of to try and take their minds off everything that had happened, but that thread of conversation had drifted into nothing, so now Amelia was going for the more serious questions. "Sam?"
He shook his head. "Sorry, kinda zoned out there." The younger Winchester shifted on the bed so he was half-reclined against the pillows and the headboard. "Amelia, why do you think you're anything other than human? Or maybe a vessel for the angels?"
"Because of the way I felt when Castiel was in that bunker with us. I don't think I would be… connected to him if I was just a vessel. I don't think I would have felt so lost when he left. I know him. I know I know him. And I don't mean that I know he's Castiel and an angel and whatever the hell. I mean I know him like I spent time with him. Like we were… friends." Amelia turned her head and took in the look Sam was giving her. "What? That's just what I felt. I know how crazy it sounds." Sam smiled at her, one of his big, warm grins. She returned the expression but it faded after a moment, weighted down by all that she was feeling and going through. "How am I supposed to go through life like this? Wondering what I really am?"
"You and Ash are going to look for answers, right? Maybe you'll find out and then you won't have to wonder."
Amelia snorted. "Yeah. From where? The Angel Encyclopaedia? Doubt it." She moved her pale gray eyes to the ceiling and tried to picture Castiel's face again, or the face of his vessel anyway. It wasn't hard to recall the details. Something in that face was very familiar, which was impossible since she'd never met the man Castiel was riding around in, but the fact remained. She could see Castiel the angel in that fact, all the beauty and power that was his true form as an angel. As she thought about it, as she picture the angel, Amelia's heart chest constricted and she was suddenly overcome with the urge to cry. "What if," she gasped. But she didn't continue.
"What if what?" Sam prodded when it became apparent she wasn't going to continue on her own.
She shook her head. It was a ridiculous thought. Too ridiculous. There was no way that was possible… But who was she to say something was impossible? Hadn't Dean just come back from Hell? Weren't they chasing an angel? Wasn't the Apocalypse bearing down on them? Amelia swallowed and looked up at Sam. "What if I'm one of them?" she suggested sheepishly. "I know it sounds stupid, but—"
"It's possible."
"You really think so?"
"Yeah. Maybe unlikely," he added with a grin. "You're not a very angelic person."
She playfully swatted Sam's shoulder and tried to contain the laugh pushing at her lips, but she couldn't. It burst forth and she let herself laugh loudly and thoroughly. It felt good to laugh, even though it wasn't that funny. "Thanks."
"You're welcome, I guess."
They dissolved into silence again and Amelia went back to staring at the ceiling and thinking about the trench coat wearing angel and how it had felt when he left. She wanted to see him again, to ask him all the questions that were bouncing around in her head. Could she be an angel? If she was, why didn't she remember anything about being an angel? Why didn't she have wings? How had she become a mortal of whatever she was now? So many questions and only one source for an answer. She sighed and settled farther into the slightly uncomfortable mattress beside Sam, leaning against him slightly as she did so.
Castiel, where are you?
Author's Note.
So nothing really happens in this chapter and there's only one more in the book. Hmm…
Ah, I've got stuff planned out, don't worry. Also, this book continues directly in the next one-shot, so you'll have to read that to.
Anyways, review please! Let me know what you liked, what you didn't like, what you want to see more of, less of… you get the picture. Reviews make me want to write more!
Next Chapter: Parting.
