Transition chapter here. Bear with me and next chapter I'll get back to the characters we all know and love. :)

Ten minutes later a police cruiser pulled up. Amelia stood as the officers walked up to her.

"Hello, miss, we're very sorry about your family, we're doing everything we can to find them."

Right, they thought her family was alive somewhere. She had a sudden case of amnesia when the detectives questioned her. Dean had convinced her on that point.

"I just want to grab a few things from the house."

"Sure, that won't be a problem. Thanks for calling us, we would hate to have the crime scene tampered with. Come on."

The first officer slit the crime scene tape, and ushered her in. Blood still was smeared around the kitchen and living room. She found down bile again.

"So sorry, miss, ongoing investigation so we're leaving it like this for just a little while longer. Where are your things?"

She pointed upstairs, and picked her way through all the blood, and some things that weren't blood towards the stairs. By the time she reached them, she was shaking.

Alice in Chains played somewhere in her head, for absolutely no reason. Feed my eyes, can you sew them shut? She thought to herself, and almost laughed bitterly, managing to choke it down. Won't you come and save me.

Amelia hummed it very softly to herself as she packed up her things. I'm the dog who gets beat. She wasn't even living at her parents, they had been visiting for the weekend for her mother's birthday. But she still had most of her possessions there. She hadn't lied when she said she traveled light. Plaid seemed to be a necessity, based on what she had seen, so she threw her few plaid and flannel shirts into her duffel bag. A handful of t-shirts. Her favorite pairs of jeans. Hairbrush, shampoo, socks, wallet. Computer in her backpack. Shove my nose in shit. She threw her pantsuit in for good measure, and a pair of flats. Tied an extra pair of tennis shoes to her backpack. The room was almost bare. Amelia tucked another pair of jeans, lamented the extra space between the duffel and the backpack, then remembered her brother was almost the same size as her.

The police officer stood outside in the hallway, looking rather uncomfortable.

"I'd like to take a few of my brother's things if that's alright, and maybe a few things of my parents? Just something to hold on to I guess."

"Yes, of course."

She went to the guest bedroom, where things lay strewn everywhere. Paul's wife was not known for neatness, especially after the baby had been born.

Amelia rooted around in their things for a while, and found a few of Paul's favorite flannel shirts and sweatshirts. Some pictures in his suitcase from his wedding, his child, and a few pictures that had been taken of him and Amelia when they were younger. She took every picture with Paul in it. A tough-looking pair of jeans. A few of his sweatshirts. His wedding band, which fit on her index finger. Then she moved on to her parents' bedroom. Was there anything she wanted? Anything she even wanted to remember? She cleaned the money out her parent's safe. Not a whole lot in there, but it would last her a while. She took her father's key ring, but nothing else.

"Alright, I'm ready."

"Good, I can help you carry that."

The officer picked up her duffel, and she walked out of the house for the last time. The two policemen resealed the door, and walked her to the curb.

"Do you need a ride somewhere?"

"Actually, could you drop me off at the storage place on Beech and 3rd? I'd like to have my dad's car with me whatever happens."

"Sure thing, miss."

She climbed out at the storage unit, grabbed her things, and waved goodbye to the police officers.

Amelia opened the door, ignoring the tools and benches, and threw the dust cover off of her father's baby. 1978 Trans Am. Black, with an ostentatious gold firebird on the hood, and more scoops and spoilers than would ever be necessary. She knew for a fact he loved the car more than either of his children. Oh well, he was gone now. Not quite buried, so he couldn't technically roll in his grave. She ran a finger over the shiny hood. Then Amelia smiled. She tossed her bags into the back seat, and dropped into the driver's seat. This would be interesting with one arm. Thankfully the police hadn't commented on her injury.

She dropped the clutch, and started it. The car grumbled to life. Then she threw it in first, and eased out of the storage unit. She cranked the radio on some random hideous pop station, and rolled the windows down.

"Here's to you, dad," she flipped a bird at the sky. Amelia peeled out of the parking lot and made forty before she hit the street, even with having to knee steer when she shifted. Too bad she didn't have two good arms to properly drive the car. It purred away, and she could almost understand why her father loved the car so much. But she could smell the whiskey in the car, her father's pervasive perfume. She drove away the rest of the day, sometimes laughing, sometimes crying. Singing along to the music at the top of her lungs. On the highway, on back roads, around town. She stopped to eat once, at some little diner, and took her pain pills.

When night fell, she found herself back at the storage unit with almost no gas left in the tank. She stowed the car away. Well, that had been fun. Maybe she wouldn't sell the car after all. But the house would definitely go, and the other crappy car her mom drove. That would be awkward to manage if people thought her parents were still alive. Well, she could always take care of it later. It wasn't like she had to leave forever. Heck, she could even take the car. Wasn't like her father could care anymore.

But she knew one thing for sure. She was definitely not sleeping in a bed that night. Way too many thoughts crowding her head. So Amelia started running, like she always did. She had run as a kid, with her brother, just to run. She ran as a teenager to forget the crap of her home life. That's when she found out she was actually good at it, and now she ran in college to pay for her school. Though she hardly knew the house her parents had lived in, Amelia knew every street in a mile radius around it, and some even farther. Feet flapping on the pavement, shoulder jolting painfully at every footfall. She kept going, though, slower than usual, but for hours it seemed. When she was good and exhausted, Amelia crashed in one of the parks, laying down on the soft grass to catch a few hours of sleep. It certainly wasn't the first time. Hell, she even kind of enjoyed sleeping outside in the summer. The crisp smell of the air, the sound of the wind in the trees, the prickle of the grass. Just as long as it didn't rain.

If you're not familiar with '78 Trans Ams, you should definitely check them out, they're beautiful cars. It just didn't seem like Amelia could be a hunter without a cool old muscle car. :)

I'm attempting to work in some sort of soundtrack into the story, however the only way it will work most of the time is to have Amelia hum or sing a song. Let me know if it works, or if you think it's just annoying.