Chapter Thirty-Two

Dean parked the Impala across the street from the second address on the list. He had dropped Sam off at the first address on the way; he was going to check it out and call them if he found anything. The third and final address was a business in downtown Idaho Falls, a small cupcake shop. It didn't seem a likely place for a pureblood werewolf to hide, so they had already eliminated it as a possibility.

Dean leaned over and gave Amie a gentle kiss on her cheek. "Wait here. I'm gonna go walk the property really quick, check out exits and entrances to the house. You stay here and if you see anybody, call me." He got out of the car and hurried across the street. He made a circuit of the house, noting the location of the back entrance and the fact that the house had a basement. He checked a couple of the basement windows. They had been painted black and wouldn't budge when he tried to open them. There didn't appear to be any other way in or out of the house aside from the front and back doors. Dean hurried back to Baby, satisfied that if anybody tried to go in the house, they would see them.

He and Amie settled in to watch the house. They hadn't been able to find out very much about the current listed owners, hence the need to see it in person. At the moment it seemed to be deserted, but Dean wanted to wait it out for a couple of hours before crossing it off the list.

He reached across the seat and took Amie's small, cold hand in his much larger one. She'd been very quiet since reading her father's journal. She'd hardly said a word as she loaded her gun with silver bullets, just watching Dean and Sam as they discussed strategy. Now she was slumped in the passenger seat, her eyes alert and constantly moving.

"You okay?" he finally asked.

Amie looked at him briefly before going back to scanning the street. "I will be when this thing is dead," she replied. "Once I put a bullet in its heart and I can move on, I'll be fine." Her voice was very cold and calculating.

Dean squeezed her hand. He didn't have anything to say to her that would make her feel better. He understood how she felt and what she was going through. All he could do was help her kill the monster that was haunting her.

Dean's phone vibrated in his pocket; it was Sam. "Yeah?" he answered. "Okay. No, we're still here. See you in a few." He hung up and looked at Amie out of the corner of his eye. "That was Sam. That address was a bust. It's a home daycare. Kids and parents coming and going at all hours. Looks like this is our last hope." Amie seemed to slump further in the seat. "He's on his way, caught a ride."

Twenty minutes later Sam pulled open the back door of the Impala and slid in. "Hey. Anything yet?" he asked.

Dean looked at him in the rearview mirror, shaking his head. Sam sighed and leaned back against the seat.

A couple hours later, he was thinking about calling it a night when Amie suddenly sat up straighter. "What is it?" he said, eyes searching.

"I thought I saw a light, in the house, moving across the windows. Toward the back." Amie put her hand on the door handle. "Let's go."

Dean put his hand on her arm. "Wait a minute, will you? We're not rushing in there." When she tried to pull away, he dragged her toward him, getting very close in the small confines of the car. "Dammit Amie, if you really want this thing dead, than we need to do this the right way. You are not just running in there, do you understand me?" He sat staring into Amie's very blue eyes, waiting. He could wait all night. They weren't going anywhere until she agreed with him. Finally, she nodded.

Dean immediately went into combat mode. "Sam, go in through the back. Amie and I will go in through the front. Check every room—closets, under furniture, you name it, check it. We'll meet in the middle, go down to the basement together. If it's Gibbons, Amie gets the kill. Period." He looked back at Amie. "When you take the shot, it has to count. Do not miss."

Dean finally opened the door and slid out. Sam pulled his gun and went through a side yard to the back of the house, Dean moved toward the front of the house, staying in the shadows, Amie close behind. When they got to the front door, Dean gestured to her. She automatically pulled her flashlight and pointed it at the door while Dean picked the lock. He pushed it open, stepping through, gun raised.

They were in a small living room, sparsely furnished. Dean glanced around quickly, then moved toward an arched door that led into what appeared to be a dining room. He swept the room, side to side, while Amie checked under the table and behind a large buffet in the corner. Dean pointed down a hallway that led to the back of the house. He took his flashlight out of his jacket pocket, clicking it on. Just then, Sam came out of the kitchen, gun raised. When he saw Dean and Amie, he shook his head. The three of them started down the hallway, Dean first, then Amie and Sam.

The first two rooms in the hallway were unfurnished bedrooms. Sam checked the rooms and their closets, but there was nothing. Dean checked a bathroom and a linen closet, but again, nothing. Dean was starting to think that Amie had been imagining things.

The last room in the hall was just ahead. Amie had reached it before either of the boys. Dean quickly moved to stand next to her and nodded at her to open the door, his gun pointing directly at it. She took the handle and turned it slowly, pushing it open. It looked like it led to the basement. Amie reached in, trying to find a light switch on the wall. Dean looked over his shoulder, gesturing for Sam to hurry up. When he turned back around, Amie was gone.

Dean heard, rather than saw, Amie hit the stairs several times. He heard what sounded like rustling sounds and a muffled shout. He couldn't see shit, his flashlight wouldn't penetrate the darkness. "Dammit!" he swore.

"Sam!" he yelled as he hurried down into the basement. Sam followed close behind. Amie wasn't at the bottom of the stairs, but Dean saw blood, footprints and drag marks on the dusty floor. He knelt down and touched his fingertip to the blood; it was fresh. He could still see only a few feet in front of him. He would literally be walking into this blind.

"See if you can find a light switch or something," Dean ordered Sam.

Dean crept forward slowly, swinging his flashlight back and forth, following the drag marks. Amie had to be down here, there was no place else she could have gone. There was no exit from the basement.

"Dean, lights!" Sam yelled from somewhere behind him. Dean squinted as several fluorescents flooded the basement with light.

Dean took in as much as he could when the lights came on. The basement appeared to go the entire length of the house. He was standing in a room with an old washer and dryer in one corner, a rusted sink next to them. A refrigerator clicked on, humming quietly to his left. Behind him, under the stairs were storage shelves, stocked with cans. Sam was walking toward him from the back corner of the room, where Dean could see a large electrical panel.

"The circuit breaker was off," Sam said, stopping next to Dean.

Dean pointed to the floor. The drag marks went through a narrow doorway, into another part of the basement. He looked at Sam, who nodded, ready to follow his brother. Dean stepped through the door into another, larger room.

Gibbons stood against the back wall, Amie in front of him. He was holding her against him, one arm loosely around her waist, a hand wrapped around her throat. His claws were extended, the tips puncturing her neck and shoulder. Blood covered the collar of her jacket.

A low growl came from the werewolf's throat. "Walk away, hunter. I only want the woman. I will let you live if you leave now," he said, his words difficult to understand.

Dean shook his head. "Sorry, pal, not happening. Let her go." He took a step forward.

The werewolf tightened his grip on Amie's throat, the tips of his claws pushing farther into her neck. Dean watched her face. She didn't even flinch. He saw her eyes flick to the ground and back up. He looked down, eyes scanning the floor to see what she had been showing him, before he focused on Amie once more.

"She has to die. Her father killed my family, so I am killing his. Once she is dead, it will be over." Amie's eyes widened at Gibbons words. Dean took another step forward, moving slightly to his left, as the werewolf spoke, Sam on his heels. The toe of his boot bumped against something on the floor. It was Amie's gun.

Dean shook his head. "Like I said, not happening. See, I like her and plan on keeping her around for a while. You can just go to hell." Dean focused on Amie, trying to convey what he needed her to do with just his eyes. "Now, drop her!" he yelled.

Amie suddenly went lax in Gibbons' arms, slipping to the ground. The werewolf scrambled for purchase, claws raking her face, leaving long cuts from her neck to her temple. Dean kicked her gun, propelling it across the floor. Without hesitating, she grabbed it, spun around and fired two shots, both hitting dead center. Gibbons sagged to the floor.

Dean was at her side in a second, his hand going immediately to the cuts on her neck and face. "Hey, baby, nice shot," he smiled, cocking one eyebrow at her.

"Thanks," Amie replied, smiling weakly. "Is it dead?"

Dean looked at Sam, who had gone to check the body. He nodded.

"Yep, you ganked his ass. Nice job." He scooped Amie up. "Let's get you to a hospital, get you stitched up."

Sam led the way, Dean carrying Amie. As they passed the linen closet in the hallway, Sam grabbed a couple of towels and tossed them over his shoulder. They landed on Amie's stomach, but she didn't move.

"Amie, honey, pick that up and put it against your neck," he instructed. She did as she was told, but her eyes were glazing over and Dean realized she was losing consciousness.

Once they reached the car, he put Amie in the passenger seat and slid in after her, pushing her to the middle. Sam got in the driver's side, wordlessly taking the keys from his brother. Amie slumped against him. He didn't like how pale her face was or how much blood she was losing. He took the towel from her and pressed it against her neck.

"Hurry up," he mouthed to his brother.

As they drove to the hospital, Dean replayed what had just happened over in his head. It could have ended so much worse. Thank God she was a good hunter. That was what had saved her life. The only other hunter who could read his body language and understand his subtle hints like she had just done was Sam.

Dean slipped his other hand into Amie's hair, pulling her head against his chin. He kissed her temple, hoping she really was alright. Once she was stitched up and a doctor said she was good, he would feel a lot better. Then and only then would he stop worrying.