Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. After having such a good time writing my first story the last couple of months; I now have experienced my first (and hopefully last) case of writer's block.

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Chapter 43

Mike had chosen to attend the University of Indiana because of its Folklore and Mythology department. He had become fascinated by the supernatural after his encounter with the shtriga. In addition to all his research on-line over the years, he had been taking martial arts and gun safety classes; and he had spent hours practicing at the range. He'd even taken a Latin class. He wanted to be a Hunter. It was why, before he left for school, he had told Asher about that night seven years ago.

His freshman year in Bloomington, Mike had met a girl. Mary was sweet, funny and pretty. She was also a freshman and her mother worked for the college. Neither had wanted to get serious, at first; they just became really good friends. They stayed in touch over that first summer, and by the time Mike went back to school last fall, they were crazy about each other. They hadn't told her mother about their relationship because Mary knew how over-protective she was, and Mike was going to be declaring his major in her department, and didn't want any special treatment.

But Dr Proctor found them making out in Mike's car one night. After she had failed to get Mike arrested, she had invited him to their home to make amends. Mike had told Asher it was the second creepiest night of his life. It was also the night he came to believe Mary's mom was a practicing witch. That was when he had started keeping the notebook.

As Amelia kept asking Asher questions, Sam was reviewing the entries in Mike's notebook. It read like pretty much like every other hunter's journal he had ever seen. Between what Asher had told them and Mike's notebook, it confirmed what Sam had suspected; Elizabeth Proctor was using witchcraft, and had been for long time.

"Asher, I need to see Mike's car. Do you know where it is?" Sam asked. He had enough background information, he needed to check Mike's car for hex bags. The police and insurance investigators hadn't been able to find any mechanical reasons for the steering to lock and gas pedal to stick, at the same time, and send Mike crashing into that cement wall at 80 miles per hour.

X

"So, you think Mike was right?" Asher was asking as soon as he slid into the booth of the diner.

Sam pulled the hex bag he had found stuffed into the back seat of Mike's car. "Yeah, it looks that way." Sam had had no difficulty getting into the impound lot where Mike's car, well what was left of it, was being kept. It also hadn't taken him very long to locate the hex bag.

"So what happens next?" Asher asked while staring at the little leather bag.

"Amelia and I go to Bloomington to confirm it was Mary's mom."

"And?"

"And we stop her."

Asher stared at Sam for a second. "Look, I know I should want revenge, or something. But, revenge won't bring Mike back." When neither Sam nor Amelia said anything, he added. "Can you stop her without, you know, hurting her?"

"Probably not." Sam started to say, before Amelia cut him off.

"We will if we can, Asher." Amelia said while giving Sam a look he knew meant to let her handle this. She could see the emotional pain threatening to overwhelm the boy; and his frustration because he hadn't understood the direction Mike had chosen; and she could sense he was angry at Sam. He rationally knew Mike's death was not the Winchesters' fault, but rational thinking rarely won when so much suffering was involved.

Ten minutes later they were saying their good-byes in the parking lot. After Sam and Amelia were in the car, he turned to her. "What the hell was that all about?"

Amelia gave him a quick glare before explaining. "Asher didn't need the truth. He didn't want to think about anybody else dying." She poked him in the arm to reinforce her irritation with Sam. "You heard what the kid said about not wanting revenge."

Sam calmed down when he thought of how little satisfaction, and how much trouble, revenge had brought him over the years. Maybe Asher was a better human being than he was; because, in spite of everything, he was still looking forward to killing Crowley for what had happened to Dean.

"Besides," Amelia interrupted his musings. "I'm pretty sure I can find a much more satisfying way to stop the witch." Amelia said as she looked at Sam with an expression that made his spine tingle.

x

They had only been in Fitchburg about four hours before Sam had them back on the road again and headed south towards Illinois. It would be a long day, but Sam was sure he could make Bloomington by nightfall. As usual, Sam predicted their travel time very accurately, and they were just outside the college town as the sun was getting low in the western sky and dusk was starting to settle. Amelia would have liked to enjoy the rich landscapes while crossing Illinois and Indiana; but both she and Sam were uneasy about confronting the witch.

They weren't frightened; both of them had dealt with practitioners of the dark arts before. But Sam was used to hunting with Dean. They always seemed to be able to anticipate each other; they were a well-oiled machine that got the job done and watched each other's backs. Sam trusted Amelia, but it just wasn't the same. For her part, Amelia seriously disliked those who practiced Witchcraft because they used the natural, loving energy she had given the planet, and corrupted it by adding dark energy. And while most used it for benign love spells and such; those who learned how to channel a lot of power almost always used it for nefarious reasons.

It took them a while to find a motel room because of the holiday the next day. Sam saw the difficulty in finding a room as a good thing; a town full of strangers would make it easier for them to not be noticed while they hunted the witch. The drawback, with tomorrow being a holiday; it would be almost impossible to get into any government offices to do research. But he could use the advanced hacking skills Frank had taught Dean and that Dean had showed him. After settling in their room, Sam had set up his laptop for research and they started discussing how they would proceed.

"What? Absolutely not!" Sam had replied when Amelia had suggested she go across town to see if she could find the girl, Mary Proctor.

"I read Mike's journal during the drive; the way Mike wrote about her, she'll want to help stop her mom." Amelia replied.

"How can you possibly know that from Mike's journal?" As soon as he said it, he remembered who he was talking to, and that she probably could get a sense of the girl.

"Sam, I can't help you with that research." She said and pointed to his laptop. "But, I could make contact with her, without her mother sensing me; think of it as another form of research." Amelia felt useless in the motel room. She was also a little pissed off because Sam was treating her like she was delicate and helpless.

As if he had been reading her mind, he replied, "I know you could pull it off, but we just can't risk anything happening to you." Amelia sensed he was trying to be supportive but it had just the opposite effect. He was just reinforcing that he thought she wasn't up for the fight. But then she sensed something else; he wasn't being protective because he didn't think she was capable. And it wasn't just because of her role in saving Dean. He had dropped the shield on his emotions that she had been sensing all day; and Amelia saw how much he loved her.

She fought back the urge to jump into his arms and kiss him until they both forgot about the witch. Instead, she debated how to make him understand. "Sam, we need this girl, almost as much as she needs us to free her from her mother's domination."

"Okay. Honestly, how did you get all that from the notebook?"

Amelia held up a small, lavender envelope. "I didn't. This was tucked in the back."

"What is it?"

"It's a letter Mary sent to Mike. It was unopened; he must not have had a chance to read it before he died." Amelia pulled out the single piece of paper. "She knew what her mother had done to Mike when he was here; and warned him not to come back for her." She tipped the envelope over and a small charm slid into her hand. "She was trying to protect him."

Sam stared at the charm dangling from Amelia's hand for a second. "So, how do we find her without letting her mother know we're here?"

"We don't. I do."