Chapter Twenty-Nine
Amie sat at the table, checking news reports on her laptop, while Dean was in the shower. She would have been in there with him only that would have set them back at least another hour. They had wasted enough time. Not that Amie considered the time they spent together last night wasted. They had been up for hours, talking and making love. Amie felt like she finally understood why Dean had such a hard time admitting how he felt and letting himself care. And she hoped that he now understood why she needed to kill this werewolf, what it had taken from her, how her life had been torn apart.
A knock at the door startled her, pulling her from her thoughts. She stood up and stretched, her muscles aching, though it was a good ache. She grabbed her gun from the nightstand before crossing to the door. She peered through the peephole.
"Shit," she muttered, flicking the gun's safety on and opening the door.
"Bill…hi," she said. He was fired up and obviously pissed, Amie could tell. He pushed past her into the room.
"What the fuck, Amie?" Bill yelled, his drawl mysteriously gone. "You just leave me lying in an alley and take off? And with a god damn Winchester none the less." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "I saw Dean's precious car. Which room is he staying in? I think I'll go give him a piece of my mind."
Just then, Dean came out of the bathroom, nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water still glistening on his chest and abdomen. He stopped next to Amie, resting his hand on the small of her back.
"I'm staying in this room, as luck would have it. What did you want to tell me?" Dean asked, one eyebrow cocked, a smirk on his gorgeous full lips.
Bill looked between Amie and Dean, realization slowly dawning on his face. "Well, shit," he mumbled. "Um, hey, Dean. It's been a while. How's Sam?" he asked, seemingly flabbergasted.
"Sammy's fine, thanks for asking," Dean replied. He dropped a kiss on Amie's temple, then crossed to the bed, where his clothes lay on the top of his duffel bag. "But didn't you just tell Amie you wanted to give me a piece of your mind?" Dean dropped his towel, looking pleased at Bill's shocked look. He took his time pulling on his clothes. "Are you sure you have any to spare?"
Amie put a hand to her mouth, trying to hold back the laughter. She snorted through her fingers. Bill shot her a dirty look. She shrugged, glaring back.
"I…um…just thought it was wrong of her to leave me passed out cold in that alley. After all, we were supposed to be each other's back up. But when I came to, no one was there. It really pissed me off. At first I was worried about her, but then I get back here and see that piece of shit car…." Bill faltered when Dean shot him a glare. "I mean…your car outside, lights on in her room. I guess I should have known, put two and two together. And the typical Winchester behavior, running off with the girl, leaving people behind."
Amie watched Dean, sensing the anger building in him. She quickly stepped between him and Bill. "Look, Bill, I'm sorry about that, I really am. But Dean was hurt and I had a cut that needed stitches. The werewolf was gone. Honestly, I didn't think it would be a problem." She glanced back at Dean, shrugging. She wasn't about to tell Bill that he hadn't even crossed her mind. "Besides, you've made it pretty clear how you feel about the Winchester boys and I figured it was best if I kept you two apart."
"Yeah, well, you're damn lucky I didn't bust in here last night and let you have it," Bill muttered.
Dean took two steps toward Bill. "No, you're damn lucky you didn't come in here. You would have gotten your ass kicked," he growled. He looked ready to kick Bill's ass right then and there.
Amie had to stifle another laugh. She thought that Dean would have done more than kick Bill's ass if he had walked in on them last night. Especially considering what they'd been doing. She straightened her shoulders and placed a hand on Dean's chest.
"Dean, wait," she said. "I think we all need to calm down." She turned to the other hunter. "Bill, while I do appreciate your help, I think Dean and I are going to take it from here. I'm sorry, but I'm not sure you're equipped to handle something of this caliber. Dean's hunted a pureblood before and this is very important to me. Thanks for helping me get this far, but I think it's time for you to go." Amie was trying to get Bill out of the room before Dean killed him.
"You cold-hearted bitch," Bill sputtered. "You used me to get you this far, then you call in this asshole. Probably just so you could get laid."
Dean was across the room in an instant. Even if Amie had wanted to stop him, she wouldn't have had a chance. He grabbed Bill by the scruff of the neck, pushing him toward the door. He yanked the door open and made a move as if to push Bill out. Instead, he slammed him face first into the doorjamb. "Get the fuck out of here before I tear you apart, you bastard."
Bill put a hand to his nose, flinching as he saw the blood on his fingers. Anger flashed in his eyes and his hand went to his jacket pocket.
"Please give me a reason," Dean said, his low voice menacing. "Walk away while you can still walk."
Amie saw the indecision on Bill's face. For a minute she thought he was actually going to pull his gun on Dean. She tightened the grip on her own gun, her finger moving to flick off the safety. But Bill just shook his head.
"You Winchesters really are a piece of work. Have fun with the little woman, Dean. She's a handful." Bill walked off, pulling his car keys from his pocket. He didn't turn back at all, just got in his mini-van and left.
Amie was digging through Gibbons desk drawers while Dean searched upstairs. She hadn't found anything useful yet, but she wasn't giving up until she did.
She and Dean had come to Councilman Gibbons' house right after Dean kicked Bill out of their motel room. The house was deserted. She figured Gibbons must have made his way back at some point last night. It was obvious that someone had packed up as quick as possible—drawers were left open and papers were strewn around the office and upstairs bedroom. There wasn't a computer to be found anywhere in the house. The garage was also empty, a large stain on the floor where a car had formerly been parked.
Amie rifled through the bottom desk drawer, yanking papers out and haphazardly throwing them on the floor. She'd been searching for a half an hour, but she hadn't found a damn thing. Frustrated, she kicked the drawer shut. Something clunked as it closed. She pulled it open again, but nothing was left in the drawer. She spent a couple of minutes examining it until she decided to take it off its track and out of the desk.
She dumped it on the floor, trying to see if there was a secret compartment. She flipped it around several times, but there were no secret buttons or keyholes visible anywhere on the drawer. Maybe she had imagined she'd heard something. Amie dropped the drawer to the floor. And heard the clunk again. At this point, finesse was unnecessary, so she turned the drawer bottom side up and slammed her 3-inch heel through the middle of it.
She heard Dean chuckling from the doorway. "Cute," he smirked. "And I always thought your boots were impractical. Guess I was wrong."
"Seemed easiest," Amie said, shrugging. "And these boots aren't impractical. I kick ass in these boots. Plus, they make me taller." She dropped a wink in Dean's direction.
She crouched down, sifting through the pieces of the broken drawer. She finally found a small red notebook with dates, locations, and notes scribbled inside. She flipped through it, but didn't see anything right away. "I think I'm going to need my computer. We'll have to go through this page by page and see what we can find."
"Well, let's go back to the motel. I didn't find anything and that may be the only lead we have," Dean said, pulling Amie to her feet. "But I need food, first. I saw a little café on the way here. There was a sign for homemade pie in the window." His grin got bigger.
Amie laughed, kissing Dean on the cheek. He certainly did love his pie.
"Okay, here we go," Amie said as she spread the map out across the table. She started making X's across Idaho, Montana and Utah. "These are the locations and dates I've found so far in the book, but I'm not anywhere close to done. It starts in 2000 and goes through to a couple of weeks ago. We need to search the news sites to see if there is anything significant that happened on any of those dates, in any of those places."
"I can do that," Dean volunteered, setting his third piece of pie down. He pulled Amie's laptop over and pulled up a search engine. He entered a random date and location. While he waited, he absentmindedly flipped through the red notebook.
"Okay, here we go," Dean said, reading from the laptop screen. "August 20, 2001, Bozeman, Montana. Three dead in apparent animal attack. Hearts torn from the chest." Dean entered another date. "February 12, 2006, Boise, Idaho. One killed, apparent animal attack."
Dean kept entering dates and locations, each one coming up with a similar story—someone dead, killed by what looked like an animal. Sometimes it was reported that the hearts were missing, other times it wasn't.
"So basically, this notebook is full of the dates and locations of werewolf murders. Sometimes there's notes with a name or other significant information." Dean's voice was filled with disgust. "Son of a bitch."
Amie sat on the end of the bed, astonished at the magnitude of what Dean was telling her. "It logged its kills? Kept track of where and when? There are hundreds of dates and locations in there from the last thirteen years. I don't understand."
"Who knows how these things think, or what its motivation was," he replied, still flipping through the notebook. He stopped, a strange look crossing his face. "When were your husband and son killed?" he asked.
Amie didn't even have to think of the answer, she blurted it out immediately. "October 10, 2010. Why?"
"And you lived in Missoula, Montana, right?" Dean asked.
Amie nodded. She didn't like the look on his face. He had the notebook gripped tightly in his left hand, his right hand running nervously through his hair.
"What's your maiden name?" Dean swallowed noticeably.
The wheels were turning in Amie's head, trying to figure out where Dean was going with these questions. "It's Caspian," she whispered.
Dean was in front of her in less than a heartbeat. He sat next to her on the bed, wrapping his arm around her. He held the notebook out to her, his thumb pointing to an entry on the page:
"10/10/10: Missoula, MT; Caspian's daughter still alive. 2 dead—her husband and son."
Dean put his mouth right next to her ear, his words quiet. "It's him, honey. It's the pureblood that killed your family."