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TWELVE
West Willow Motel
Willow, Connecticut
Saturday, October 7, 2006
5:18 PM
Amy paced the length of the motel room she and Taylor occupied, trying to get her bearings on what her friend was laying out for her. Apparently, during the few hours that she had been holed in up their dorm at Yale, and leaving Amy to fend for herself forty miles away, Taylor had spent the entire time looking for information on whatever they were facing—though the fact that they were still looking into the weirdness in Willow after John had told them to go home wasn't an irony that was lost on either of them.
After spotting the man at the police station, and watching him slip out through the front entrance in a clear message of avoidance, Amy had taken her returned belongings and left. Checking to make sure everything was there as she headed out of the building, this time grabbing a taxi and paying for the short ride back into town with some of the cash she had in her wallet, Amy had been unsure as to what her next step was. It was obvious that she was going to have to get back to New Haven somehow, but with renting a car not being an option—she was exactly a month away from twenty-one and none of the places in Connecticut rented to anyone under the legal drinking age—and with the estimated ride back in a cab being just over a hundred and fifty dollars depending on traffic, she was going to have to sort out what she wanted to do. Deciding that she was too tired to think, she had checked into the motel the West Hartford taxi driver had suggested, one that was out of the way and within Willow limits.
Once she was inside, however, Amy had only managed to get an hour of sleep before her phone rang. Grabbing it off the bedside table where it had been sitting, she glanced at the caller ID before slinking back under the covers, wondering what Taylor could have to say or if her friend had been busted driving a stolen vehicle and had used Amy as her one phone call. Flipping open the silver mobile, Amy listened while Taylor went on about decoding the first few chapters in the Els Dimonis Mortals D'aigua, discovering an online software that sped up the process. Not sure how to cut her off, especially since she was heeding John's words that they stay out of it, Amy barely tuned in as she stared at the ceiling, only faintly hearing as Taylor prattled on about something called a criatura de l'aigua, a type of spirit that dwelled in darkness and attacked small children. According to her, the thing could morph out of completely liquid or completely solid forms, and the only way to kill it was when it was dense enough to shoot at.
"Shoot at?" Amy had laughed over the phone. "Where are we going to get a gun?"
Pausing at the question, Taylor had ignored it after a long moment as she continued, giving Amy more and more details about the creature that was snatching kids out of their beds. Apparently, the thing liked to wait until children reached the age of nine or ten to attack, biding time and only showing up every decade or so, though why it waited so long was lost on both Amy and Taylor. According to what she had read, however, Taylor was fairly certain the criatura alwaysbid its time in dark, abandoned places not far from where it was prowling, meaning that if they managed to narrow down where it was laying low, they would be able to put it down. Still, the question of where they were going to get a firearm seemed to be the most prominent issue, one that neither of them could solve, keeping them from moving forward on looking for the thing—a detail Amy was thankful of.
Unfortunately, the obvious roadblock didn't seem to slow Taylor down, who had immediately suggested meeting Amy to start the search. Wondering how the girl was going to show up, especially since Enterprise had already blocked her from renting a car and Amy wasn't about to rendezvous with her in a stolen vehicle, Amy had tried to push the suggestion aside, wanting more than anything to go back to sleep rather than head out on a wild goose chase. Eventually caving into Taylor's persists, Amy filled her in on where she was staying, listening to the line go dead a moment later. Snuggling back under the sheets, Amy made to close her eyes, placing her phone blindly on the table and trying to fall back asleep.
Ultimately, though, the effort was soon deemed fruitless. As she tossed and turned, trying to become comfortable, certain that she would easily doze off after traipsing around town for hours following no sleep the night before, her body began to get restless, almost as though a spike of adrenaline was reacting to Taylor's suggestion that they continue to hunt the thing sweeping through Willow. Kicking under the blankets in an attempt to waste the sudden burst of energy away, Amy buried her head before getting up to cross over to the bathroom portion of the room, getting into the shower to wash off the vigor with scalding hot water. By the time she stepped out, her muscles feeling more relaxed than before, sleep began to crowd her senses again. Blow-drying her hair, Amy changed back into the only set of clothes she had with her and made for the bed, only to be interrupted by a sudden knocking at the door.
Not even needing to check through the peep hole to see who it was, Amy opened the door to allow Taylor to walk in, watching as her friend set a pair of keys with a purple Avis tag and what appeared to be a new wallet down on the table underneath the window. Glancing her up and down, Amy could see that she hadn't been the only one to take a shower, though Taylor had clearly changed into clothes that was meant to butter up whichever male rental attendant she had been speaking to. With tight jeans, a low-cut top, and a cardigan that only buttoned so far, Amy wondered how easy it had been for her short, shapely friend to have gotten what she wanted from whatever guy was behind the counter.
Pushing the thought away as Taylor took a seat on the bed she had been eager to climb back into, Amy began to pace as the other girl attempted to fill her in on every detail she had learned while researching back in Dwight Hall. Listening to everything, if only for curiosity's sake, Amy's mind began to swim at what was being said. According to some of the finer print when it came to the criatura, the only way to take them out was to put a bullet in their head, and apparently the only time to do so was after dark. Also according to Taylor, the things took children and ate them, but only after snatching three from their homes. Apparently, the thing had a large appetite and would only eat three at a time, nothing less, and would continue to hunt until its pallet was sated. Knowing that creature, as far as she knew, only had a pair of girls at the moment, Amy had a feeling that indicated that the third attack would be tonight.
However, Amy and Taylor were supposed to be back at Yale, not sitting in a motel room thinking over what the criatura's next move was. If John caught them, they would both be dead meat, and he would probably drag them back to school himself. For some reason, Amy had the feeling that John was territorial and didn't want anyone honing in on the jobs he was working, especially when the person cramping his style was his own uninformed daughter. In the few months that Amy had been with him during the summer, she had been able to tell a few things about John Winchester, the first and foremost being that the man seemed to contain a rage that was comparable to a hurricane. In the way he moved and the way he spoke, it was almost as if he had to hold back a fury that was threatening to overtake him, as well as a sadness that seemed to weigh on him. And Amy, who didn't like anyone to be mad at her, wasn't about to test the man's threshold for withholding his anger by taking a chance at killing a creature by stepping on his turf.
Unfortunately, based on the way Taylor's resolve seemed to be written on her face, Amy was going to have to either leave her friend to do what she would on her own or join in for the sake of making sure nothing happened to the other girl. Knowing that the latter was probably a more likely outcome than the former, Amy stopped pacing to lean against the table near the window, running her hands through her hair and slumping her shoulders. In all honesty, Amy wasn't exactly jumping at the chance to take down some abnormal thing, remembering the fight between her and Bailey in Swing Hall and how dangerous and bloody that had quickly become. To take on something that didn't even have a solid form, something that could snatch people and disappear, seemed like something to be left for a more weathered "Hunter"—a term the sheriff had called them, though she didn't really know why. John was probably more than capable when it came to dealing with these types of things, and for Amy and Taylor to walk in and even try to kill the criatura would probably result in both of them being sent back to the hospital… or worse.
Reaching behind her to touch where the scar on her back was, Amy pawed at the cloth of her t-shirt and let her mind wander. For some reason, the fact that the sheriff of West Hartford had reacted to them in the way that he had—like an overdramatic child that had been caught, storming off in a huff—bothered her more than Taylor supposing they try this one on their own. In the time that she had been away from the police station, Amy hadn't given it much thought, instead ignoring it for other things; but now that she truly dwelled on it, she was beginning to find a hitch in the details. Did the local PD know what was going on in Willow, but choosing to ignore it? Or did they condone it? Or was there something else going on that Amy didn't see, maybe something that the sheriff and his officers were behind that they were trying to cover up? But then, if they honestly were trying to cover it up, how did the local newspapers get away with printing it, twice? Was there some scorned parent out there who had experienced an attack in the past that was trying to ask for help now, after noticing the signs this time around?
Head swimming, Amy stared down at the blue carpet underfoot, trying to keep back the flashes of the officer's stare that had matched the deep cobalt color. At the moment, it seemed all her brain wanted to do was analyze what had happened from the time that they had entered David Hollbrook's house to the second they had been released from the precinct. It was as though her mind was trying to tell her something, that there was a snag in the plan somewhere that was obvious if she just looked instead of contemplated.
However, before she could focus on it, the sound of a door beside theirs slamming shut knocked Amy out of her thoughts and caused Taylor to jump to her feet. Looking at her friend, Amy narrowed her eyes as Taylor rounded the table, peeking through the curtains and watching something out in the parking lot with a grin on her face. Turning to do the same, Amy bunched her jaw as she glimpsed at the gap in the drapes, wondering if the universe was intent on keeping her within arm's length of her biological father. Heading toward his massive black truck, something that had been absent when she had arrived at the motel, John passed a blue Hyundai parked directly next to him in the expansive lot, eyeing it suspiciously before getting behind the wheel and taking off.
Grabbing her keys from the table, Taylor went to follow, stopping only as Amy grabbed her arm to pull her back. Holding on for a moment, as though testing to make sure she didn't feel any squirming in her gut, Amy released her friend after a long minute, wondering how the girl could have known that both Amy and John Winchester were staying at the West Willow Motel. The coincidence had been too odd, almost as though she had outside knowledge, and the look on her friend's face seemed to portray that. With a smug grin and a cocky gaze, the other girl's stare met Amy's curious eyes for a moment. What was going on with Taylor? What was going with this town? Hell, what was going on with her life?
"We're not going after him," Amy said firmly, finally mustering the courage to call the shots for the first time in a long while. "John told us to stay and we're staying. We're not interfering in this, okay?"
"No, actually, we so are," Taylor said, smiling.
"No, we're not. He said—"
Cutting her off, Taylor held up a hand. "I heard him, and I heard you. Doesn't mean I have to listen."
Flipping the key ring around her finger, Taylor turned and left the room, heading for the only car remaining outside. Getting into the driver's seat but leaving the door open, Taylor continued to grin, a challenge written on her face. Staring at her friend through the windshield, Amy narrowed her eyes as Taylor beckoned for her. Not sure what to do or whether or not to follow, Amy reached for the motel key and locked the door behind her, slipping the small piece of metal into her pocket when she was done. Crossing the lot, Amy swallowed hard as she slid into the passenger's side, glancing at Taylor as her friend prepared to take off.
"You're such a pushover, Aims," Taylor smirked, starting the engine.
Don't I know it.
Frowning at the remark and slumping in her seat, Amy turned to stare out the window as the Hyundai made to follow the trail of dust that John's truck had left behind.