Chapter Ten
Drinking & Writing on the Wall
The wind was blowing gently against the window. Red and orange leaves could be seen flying by. The sky was much grayer now and the clouds faded away in a smoke-like motion.
There seemed to be an awkward silence in the room. Dean and Sam sat across from Amy in the living room. She took the clip out of her hair and allowed her long strands to fall by her face. She was stressed. She rubbed her head and ran both hands through her hair. Taking in a deep breath, she exhaled – trying to fight back tears.
"Before your dad came to stay with me about two weeks ago…" Amy said calmly, "there was one night before he came…I woke up screaming…I didn't even remember the dream. I thought it was just one of those regular nightmares that I had been having. But it was different. I couldn't get over that feeling…I felt like something was wrong.
"Your dad stayed with me…the second night I woke up again…screaming…it happened two other times…your dad was there for each one. He made sure I was okay…
"The last two days he was here…he told me that each night I woke up screaming…the first four women had been murdered…
"I didn't understand what he meant at first…and he brought up something that happened a long time ago…"
Sam narrowed his eyes at the young woman. Seeing her in her fray condition, Sam stood up and walked over toward her. He sat down close beside her and put his hand on her back in a comforting way.
"I was sixteen…" Amy continued sadly. "I was haunted…I met with your father one day – you guys didn't know, you never knew – and we talked…he asked why I had called…I told him…I told him that when I was about four…I told him about a dream I had. It's the earliest nightmare I can remember…
"I told him I had a dream about your mom…on the ceiling…she was calling my name…I was only four…I tried to yell for her and suddenly…blood…fire…I woke up screaming and crying. My parents came in and asked me what was wrong…I must have just rambled on 'cause they never understood what I was talking about…
"Your dad tried to comfort me. He told me it was okay. John said it was probably just me feeling guilty for the two of you…but then I told him it wasn't about that…I told him that I had that dream before it happened…because after I had the dream the first time…later on that night your dad brought the two of you to my house and told us what happened…I was only four…and I remember the way you looked, Dean…you just looked…and your father…he was s-so…I couldn't admit my nightmare…
"When your dad was with me, guys, he reminded me of that conversation we had ten years ago…he said that the nights I had woken up screaming…they were signs…warnings…he said if I tried hard enough…I could find out directly who was responsible for the women dying…I tried, I really did…"
Amy's voice became more desperate. She blamed herself. Guilt swept over her and Amy buried her face into her hands.
Dean stood up and moved closer to Amy. He got down on one knee and rested a gentle hand on her leg. His eyes looked up sadly at his friend and then to his brother. Sam rubbed her back sweetly and whispered, "It's okay, Amy."
"No, it's not…" Amy choked out, her head coming back up. "I've tried…I've tried to relax and really focus on everything…I put so much attention on it…I researched those dead girls…I tried meditating…and it wasn't until last night I had a clear dream…"
Sam nodded and his hand moved up to her shoulder and he gave her a gentle squeeze.
"Amy, I'm having the dreams too…the feelings as well…" Sam admitted slowly. Amy was looking up at him with a less-than-surprised glance.
Dean reached up and touched Amy's arm. She looked down at him, fighting tears. Her brown eyes were sparkling at him.
Standing up, Dean took off his jacket and threw it across the room and into the couch. He looked at his brother and friend and said, "You two are the only way of figuring out how to prevent another murder…"
"How?" Sam almost laughed. "Make us both go to sleep and wait until someone has a dream?"
Dean thought for a moment. He looked at Amy who was trying to pull herself together.
"Amy," Dean asked gently, "how often does this happen to you?"
Amy looked up and explained, "I know that whenever I wake up screaming, it means something bad has happened…and since I was four, I guess, I've always had good feelings and instincts about things…my first year of teaching…I knew exactly who worked really hard or those who cheated on their papers while I was grading them…but it was a bit more than a month ago when my feelings were stronger…I had one really bad night and I woke up crying…I remember exactly when too…August 24th…"
Sam looked at Amy in a frightened way and looked up at Dean. "Dean, Jessica died on that day…"
Dean looked sadly at his brother and then went back to thinking up a plan.
"Alright, well, it's about noon now…I guess we have time to figure stuff out…" Dean explained.
"Dad's journal doesn't help much…time, meditation, and faith…" Sam recalled.
Amy looked up and said, "I've done my own research. I basically got the same thing."
Dean quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out the artifact roughly.
"Hey, be careful with that," Amy warned.
Carefully giving it to her, the artifact rested in Amy's palm as she took it from Dean.
She looked up at him with an odd look. Her eyes were asking, 'What is this for?'
Dean said, "Some psychics can get feelings or visions by touching certain things or people…maybe you can get something from that…"
"I've touched it before, Dean," Amy remembered, "and I got nothing the first time…and now…well-the same thing…"
Her fingers traced over the black symbols delicately. Amy's eyes continued to read and inspect the writing.
"It would help if we knew what this meant," Amy whispered.
Sam reached over and Amy gently placed the artifact in his hands. He studied it as well. His large hands touched the old papyrus as his soft brown eyes narrowed at each curve and turn of the writing.
"Natiskawa and the Magi were the only ones who could read this…I highly doubt they'll give a helping hand…" Amy remarked.
Dean shrugged and the three continued to stare at the old Egyptian writing.
O.O.O.O.O.
The same gray apartment gave no sign that man had any loved ones in contact. The man had a dog, but the creature had run away.
The man, dressed in black and white, eyes still dark and sunken in, sat on the couch with his eyes gazing at the past six pictures.
The tail of his white dress shirt had two drops of blood on the edge.
His hands seemed wrinkled, almost deformed. He tried to crack his knuckles but no sound was made.
A smile passed his lips. A feeling of joy arose with every glance of the pictures.
Weakened hands reached into an old pair of black pants. The man stared down at the object in his hands. Slowly, he put the newest picture down on the table.
The image was that of an eleven-year-old girl walking home from school. She had black hair that reached her chin and wore a black jean jacket with brown pants; her backpack was purple with black writing on it.
The grin on the man's face grew wider.
"Just two more…two more…"
O.O.O.O.O.
The blue T-shirt was small but it fit her body composition perfectly. She had the body of a ballerina.
Wind blew gently against her cold skin. Amy hugged herself as her hair blew in the wind. She licked her lips, feeling the cold drying her face.
Six women…
Her hand slowly reached up and touched her neck. The images of the dream were replaying in her mind. So, the 'unnatural' in the world existed after all. Psychics, ghosts, and monsters. All real.
And my friends are the ones fighting these horrible things…
O.O.O.O.O.
Sam was sitting on the edge of the guestroom bed. He continued to put his hands all over the artifact. Nothing. No feeling. No reaction. No vision. Nothing that could help. Absolutely nothing.
Dean came into the room. He stared at his brother for a moment before asking, "Nothing, huh?"
He shook his head and sighed. Sam replied, "I don't know how we're supposed to do this…I think I'm gonna get on Amy's computer and see if I can find some decent psychic 'exercises'…where is Amy?"
"On the balcony…" Dean answered. "Soaking all of this in."
"She doesn't even know half of it…" Sam finished. He stood up and walked past his brother without a second glance.
O.O.O.O.O.
She stared at the city and the autumn trees. Her skin was numb against the cold now.
From behind, Dean was looking at her carefully.
He made the move and stepped outside into the cool atmosphere. Amy made no move or indication that she knew he was there.
Dean, stepping beside her, looked at the scenery with her.
The two, both dressed in different shades of blue, kept their gaze on the bright city.
"I remember when people first said there was something wrong with your dad," Amy brought up gently. Her tone was sweet and she was trying to make a point. "Your dad told all of his close friends what he saw that night…your mom…I remember I heard my parents talking about it one night. My mom said that it was important for us to be there for support…after all…John Winchester was just in shock because of Mary Winchester's death…
"It was because of that we became so close. We went to school together and came back home together…we did the same activities and we usually went to the same places…when you were eight and Sam was four…your father enrolled you guys in special self-defense classes…my dad made me join too…I just wanted to do gymnastics but I remember my dad saying, 'Aimes, my darling, do this for Dean and Sam'…"
Amy turned to look at Dean sadly. "I know you guys didn't have a normal childhood…and that you've never really lived a normal life…why didn't you ever tell me about all this? Why did you just take off – with your dad – to go and hunt those things…"
She was trembling. Dean, noticing this, slowly walked back inside the apartment and came back with his leather jacket in hand.
He smoothly tossed it over her shoulders and closed the black jacket around her. It was several sizes too big for her, she sunk into it like a blanket.
Dean carefully looked into her eyes and tried, "Sam and I didn't grow up with a normal life…we never told a lot of people because…we wanted them to have normal lives…"
Amy nodded and she looked down at her feet for a moment. When she looked back up, she asked, "The same thing that killed your mom…killed Sam's girlfriend…do you know what did it?"
"No," Dean answered gruffly. "But we will find that son-of-a-bitch."
She tried to smile but failed miserably. Instead, all Amy could do was turn back and stare across the city. Dean, just on impulse, stood behind Amy and wrapped his arms around her small waist. She didn't pull away and she didn't find it inappropriate. Instead, she allowed herself to be held.
With a small sigh, Amy turned around in Dean's arms and looked up into his face.
"Dean…" she whispered, "your dad did mention another way of me figuring all this out…"
'How?' his expression asked.
Amy took a hold of Dean's arm and led the way inside.
O.O.O.O.O.
Dean and Sam were both in Amy's room. Sam was at the computer. He found the same results over and over again. Some findings were either absurd and ridiculous or just plain stupid.
Amy came into the bedroom and the guys turned to see what she was carrying in her hand.
In one hand she carried a large glass bottle with the black label reading: JACK DANIELS. In the other hand she carefully carried in two shot glasses.
"I don't think it's the time for that…and it's early…" Sam laughed.
Dean smiled at Amy's entrance as she sat Indian-style at the edge of her bed and carefully put the bottle of alcohol and glasses beside her.
"Hey, I'm up for anything…" Dean said.
Amy sighed and said, "It's a gift from your father. He said it's the quickest way of going to sleep…and having dreamless sleep…so…this leaves the mind clear for any type of paranormal premonitions I – or we – may have."
Sam turned in the computer desk chair and narrowed his eyes. "Our dad told you to get drunk?"
Amy simply nodded.
Dean walked over and took the two glasses and the bottle of Jack. He came to the glass desk and began to pour the clear-brownish liquid into the small shot glasses.
"This is the grand plan?" Sam laughed again.
Apparently taking it seriously, Dean took one of the shot glasses and drank the shot himself. He sucked in his cheeks at the taste of the alcohol and then smiled.
"Gotta love Jack," Dean gestured.
"Come on Sam," Amy laughed slightly, "come sit with me."
Rolling his eyes, Sam stood up and sat at the edge of the bed.
If Dad recommends this…Sam thought.
Dean handed the Sam and Amy the two full shot glasses.
Amy looked down at her shot and cringed at it.
Sam turned to Amy slowly and said, "Cheers."
Both, at the exact same time, quickly poured the liquid into their mouths in a rushed way. Amy, holding her nose, cringed as the alcohol took but a second to run down her throat.
When they had finished the first drink, Sam pursed his lips and Amy made a noise that sounded like, "Blahhagh…"
"Not much of a drinker, huh Aimes?" Dean mocked.
Amy scowled at him and she, along with Sam, handed him the empty glasses.
"Just keep pouring."
O.O.O.O.O.
Several glasses of Jack Daniels and several Blahhaghs passed before Amy was lying on the side of her bed laughing repeatedly.
Sam, trying to keep it straight, took another shot and clumsily handed the empty glass to Dean.
"Pour s'more bro…" Sam slurred his words.
Dean cocked his head and shrugged, "Okay…"
He poured another glass for his brother and handed it back to him.
Amy slowly rolled over on the bed and landed on the floor.
"Amy," Dean called and quickly walked over to the side where she had fallen.
More laughs and giggles erupted from her mouth. Her shirt had come up slightly with the fall and Amy's hand was lying on her bare stomach.
"That didn't hurt," Amy laughed.
Dean, smiling, leaned over and helped Amy sit up slowly. She wrapped her arms around his shoulder and her forehead touched his.
Her breath had a strong scent of the alcohol.
"Dean Winchester," she mumbled, "I think you have gottens me vewy drunk in deedy …"
"I just poured the glass, besides, it was your idea…" Dean chuckled. He got Amy to sit up completely, her arms were still draped around his shoulders.
"Dean…" Amy said again, "you're a very nice-looking man…"
"Well thank you, Professor," Dean replied. He stood up slowly, with Amy in his grasp, and the two came up and saw Sam was sitting against the wall taking another shot.
"Had enough?" Dean asked, holding the girl who was now crumbling in his grasp.
Sam looked up and coughed, "Ha! I knew you were gonna get the girl…you always get the girl…"
He thought for a moment and Sam nodded to himself. "Ya know…I think I've had enough…I'm gonna get me to bed and sleep so I can dream…take care, Dean…"
Standing up slowly, Sam made an effort to walked out of the room. Obviously, he couldn't walk in a straight line but continued to miss steps so he wobbled out of the room.
With the sound of the guestroom door closing, Dean looked at Amy was sliding away from his grip.
This is enough…Dean thought in a frustrated way.
He picked Amy up like a child and lied her down on the bed. Her head rested on the white pillow and she looked up at Dean with a smug grin.
"So, it's just you and me now, cowboy…" Amy mentioned.
Dean sat down on the edge of the bed and smiled. He reached over and his hand rested on her forehead.
"This is quite romanticicic…" Amy slurred. She laughed out loud and then continued to look up at Dean.
"Oh yes, very romantic…" Dean joked. "I got you on a bed…your pretty brown eyes with streaks of red in them looking up at me…oh yeah…"
Amy laughed quietly and her eyes closed for a moment.
"Don't forget what you're focusing on…" Dean reminded.
She nodded slowly Amy's eyes slowly opened up once more.
"Dean…" she whispered calmly. "I think I'm going to sleep…"
"Good, get some sleep…" Dean whispered gently.
Her eyes kept her focus on his face. Dean wasn't sure whether to pull away from her glance or stay with her. It wasn't long before Amy reached up and her hand touched Dean's hand, which was still touching her face.
Ever so slowly, Amy eventually closed her eyes completely and she allowed sleep to overcome her.
Dean kept his gaze down on her. He reached over and carefully pulled Amy's shirt back down to its appropriate length.
"Good night, Amy."
O.O.O.O.O.
Weak, tanned hands were underneath the rushing water of the faucet.
The man was slowly cleaning off the remaining blood stains off the blade of the Swiss army knife.
"Two more," he continued to say, "two more…"
O.O.O.O.O.
Three hours went by and it was now four-thirty.
Dean had the T.V. on but was paying no attention to it. He sat in the comfort of the leather furniture, his hazel eyes gazing out the balcony windows. The sky was darker now, there were still some shades of blue in the sky.
Amy's and Sam's doors were closed.
Dean leaned over the couch and stared down the hallway. He wished that any minute Sam or Amy would come running out of their rooms with information to give. Instead, Dean continued to wait.
O.O.O.O.O.
Amy's body was resting on the left side of the bed. Her hands were by her side and she slept unmoving; her chest would rise and fall with every breath.
The ends of her brown hair traced over her chest and blue shirt.
Slowly, Amy's body began to stir.
Her upper body sat up. What was so strange about this…her eyes were closed shut.
As Amy continued to sleep, her body sat up completely in bed. She turned so now her feet and legs were dangling off the side. Her hand moved toward the nightstand beside her bed and her fingers fumbled with the small drawer before she opened it.
Her hand came out of the drawer and her fingers held a Sharpie marker.
O.O.O.O.O.
Dean looked down at his watch and sighed. His eyes went to the television but he couldn't focus on what was being shown.
O.O.O.O.O.
Amy's body walked over to the wall. She stood before it and slowly her hand moved upward and she pressed the marker against the plain wall.
The marker moved in a sloppy way across the wall. Her hand continued to write.
O.O.O.O.O.
Sam was sleeping gently in his bed.
She stood there. Watching him. Her beautiful blonde hair was off to the side so it could reveal her gorgeous face.
Sam wanted to cry just to see her. He wasn't sure what to do. He wanted to run and grab her and hold her and never let go.
Her hands were placed by her side. Wind blew at her silvery nightgown.
"Sam…" Jessica echoed in the wind. "Sam…"
O.O.O.O.O.
Dean was now pacing the living room. He wondered if their father's plan would work at all.
Ha, Dad, just wait till you see Sammy boy now…
He continued to walk around the living room aimlessly.
There was a loud sound and Dean reacted to it quickly. He ran toward the hallway and completely collided with his brother, who was also running out.
"Sam – Dean!" both brothers yelled at each other.
"Dean, I saw her," Sam quickly explained, "I saw Jessica – I saw Jessica – "
"What'd she say?" Dean asked in a rush.
Sam took a deep breath and he said, "She said…she said she's with us always…"
"Us…" Dean repeated.
Both brothers looked at each other questionably. Suddenly, both young men turned and went back to Amy's room.
They opened the door quickly and Dean reached inside the darkness and switched on the light.
Sam and Dean stopped in their places.
The light revealed Amy standing by the wall and writing something in a black marker. There seemed to be a large paragraph written there.
As Dean and Sam watched Amy do this, they soon found Amy stopped writing. The black marker fell from her hand. Amy's body then suddenly fell to the floor.
Both Dean and Sam ran toward her and found her body resting there gently.
She seemed to awake a bit. Dean and Sam both came to her side and helped her stand. Dean gently helped Amy sit on the side of the bed as Sam sat with her.
"Dean…Sam…?" Amy asked with a yawn. "What happened?"
She rubbed her sore head.
Dean, Sam, and Amy both looked to see what had been written on the wall.
"What…" Amy gasped, staring closely at her own handwriting.
"Well, this may be of some help…" Dean questioned.
Their eyes began to follow the writing:
Our princess, may the great Eye of Horus and the God Anubis protect you.
In life and death you shall live and reign in power.
You shall take in power and life and once again breathe air and move bone.
Eight lives shall give you the strength, our princess, and each life shall suffice you.
One of us will protect you in death.
Eight lives must be given to you and eight lives must witness your glorious return.
Anhuh taka setwi ronya giy dalynubis
O.O.O.O.O.
A/N: Trying to update as fast as I can!
For the record, the above Egyptian phrase, I completely made that up so please do not be offended by my lack of Egyptian language knowledge.
I do intend on writing a special Christmas story after Meant To Be is complete and hopefully the story will be out and done before the holiday!
Thanks for the amazing reviews!