Long chapter here. This one and the next will mainly be Christmas at Bobby's, so be prepared for eggnog, presents, and holiday sentimentality because God knows there's not enough happiness in the show. :)
Two weeks later, Amelia was crawling the walls. Ellen and Jo exemplified every single connotation of the term passive-aggressive. Even though Jo hadn't been injured on the hunt itself, Ellen was still mad she had been hurt. Bobby and Amelia treaded lightly around them, shooting sympathetic glances at each other when the mother and daughter started in on their perpetual argument. Amelia took to running ten miles each day, and helped Bobby work on twenty different cars. Anything to be out of the house and away from the squabbling women.
She continued her reading in whatever hideyholes she could find. The panic room became a sort of sanctuary. Ellen couldn't navigate the stairs with her leg and Bobby gave her space. Jo wandered down sometimes when she had had enough of the tense silence or loud arguments. They talked, sometimes, when Amelia was in the mood. Other times, Jo found her own niche and cracked open one of Bobby's old books. On the weekends, they went to the bars and in the space of two nights became a very efficient hustling team. Jo had the good looks to lure half-drunk guys in, and either she would take them out in poker, or Amelia would hustle their money away at pool.
Then one day, Ellen and Jo made up. Neither Bobby nor Amelia actually witnessed it happen, but when they came in for supper after target practice, Ellen was sitting at the table laughing, and Jo stirred some form of hamburger and pasta on the stove. The whole house felt different. Jo and Ellen laughed together over supper, even Bobby cracked a few jokes at Jo's cooking. Amelia laughed and smiled, but didn't talk much.
Two days later she left for college.
She leaned on the hood of the old junker car Bobby had loaned her to take back to college. She might not be overly fond of the Firebird, but no way she was going to subject it to a college campus.
"I guess this is goodbye for now," she said. Everything she owned was packed in the back seat, plus a few books Bobby had loaned her to continue her training. She had an apartment through the track team, so she didn't have to worry about campus police freaking out over her gun and knives. No way she was leaving them behind, not after what she knew.
"Don't be a stranger now," he said, gruffly, standing on the porch with his hands stuffed in his vest pockets. "Come back for Thanksgiving and Christmas if you want. Jo and Ellen might be able to make it."
She nodded. "Yea, we'll see. Not sure what the track schedule looks like."
"Take care of yourself, Amelia," he told her. Bobby had called her Amy a few times, but eventually settled on Amelia.
"You too, Bobby," she said. "Thanks for everything, again."
"Bye Lia," Jo waved. "We'll drop in if we're in the area." Jo had experimented with Amy as well, then she had discovered that Lia was an appropriate nickname and stuck with that.
"See ya, Jo," Amelia smiled at her, and waved and dipped her head at Ellen. "Take care!"
The junker started with fits and sputters, and she pulled out onto the road.
"Here I am," she sang to herself, "on the road again..." Metallica maybe? "There I go, turn that page." Definitely Metallica. Dean would probably approve.
The track coach was not pleased with her when she got back. Technically it wasn't required that student athletes attend summer camps, but it kept you in the coach's good graces. Her times on the track shut him up.
Studying for classes was almost laughably easy to her now, after spending her summer bingeing on supernatural research. Bobby's method of research redefined cramming. Between track meets and tests and keeping up with the information Bobby sent her, the time flew by. Jo and Ellen stopped by for a day on their way to Louisiana on a potential witch case. Other than that, she didn't see anyone but the normal college crowd. She barely saw the few friends she had, devoting her free time to studying the supernatural. She had never really fit in, and she no longer even felt like a part of that world any more.
When Christmas break started, she took a road trip north in the junker car. She took a few days to drive to Bobby's, hitting a few bars on the way up and hustling some guys out of their money for the heck of it. Amelia arrived the day before Christmas Eve.
"Hey Bobby, I'm here," she shouted as she walked in, toting her backpack and duffel, pillow in her arms.
He clumped up from the basement. "Amelia," he gave her a rare smile. "Welcome back. Tidied up the panic room for ya. Had'ta use it when you were gone."
"Thanks," she smiled back, and handed him the package in her hand. "Merry Christmas, there's like seven or eight t-bone steaks in there. Didn't want them to melt."
"You didn't have to get anything," he took them, and smiled again in his gruff way. "But thanks! Have to grill them up some time. Jo and Ellen should get here today. Still not sure the Winchesters are coming. They're not much for holidays."
Amelia stowed her things in the panic room, which smelled strangely of soap and cleaner. But the rest of the house felt comforting, even through the smell of whiskey and dust. She deposited herself on the couch, paging absently through a book on Greek mythology. In Greek. Her knowledge of the language had slipped during the semester, but she could grasp some of the information.
Jo and Ellen arrived later that afternoon with hugs and Christmas cheer. Amelia was only slightly terrified. The house began to get too close for her the next day. She couldn't run, not with two feet of snow on the ground. So she couldn't employ her one release. Amelia and Jo started to squabble, in a mostly lighthearted way, just to pass the time.
They sat in the panic room that evening, Amelia cross-legged on the bed, Jo backwards on a chair, both slightly buzzed off of Bobby's rather impressive eggnog.
"No way you ate three pizzas," Jo argued.
"Hey, I was hungry," Amelia retorted. "It was after a track meet and no one else wanted them, so I chowed down."
"But three pizzas," Jo couldn't get past it, "in an hour. I've said it before, but you really are Dean."
"Speaking of Dean," Amelia smirked, "did you hear that they're on their way here now?"
Jo just glared at her.
"Dean and Jo, sitting by the Christmas tree," Amelia improvised, "G-A-Z-I-N-G intoeachother'seyes!"
She bolted for the stairs as Jo launched towards her off her chair.
"G-A-Z-I-N-G!" Amelia continued to sing as she skipped up the stairs, full speed, danced around Bobby and Ellen in the kitchen, and ran flat out through the front door and jumped off the porch out into the falling snow.
Jo followed her every step of the way, hot on her heels, but stopped on the porch, glaring at her, but she couldn't quite wipe the annoyed smile off her face.
"You're a jerk," she complained.
Amelia just laughed, it felt so good to be outside, even if she was just wearing socks. She spun, face to the sky catching snowflakes on her tongue.
"I think ya've had too much eggnog," Bobby shouted out through the open door.
Jo grabbed a handful of snow, packed it into a nice snowball, and chucked it at the oblivious Amelia, who got an entire face full of snow.
"Blegh!" she exclaimed, spitting out a mouthful and glaring daggers at Jo.
At that moment, the Impala purred up behind her.
"Bad time?" Dean laughed, climbing out of the car and leaning against the open door as she raked the snow out of her hair.
Amelia grinned at Jo, and started mouthing G-A-Z-I-N-G. She barely managed to duck the next snowball. Sam chuckled, until Dean's snowball caught him in the chest. His laugh changed to a face of utter disbelief and indigence in under a tenth of a second.
And that's how, without shoes or a coat, Amelia participated in her first all-hunter snowball fight. Alliances were made, betrayed, and reformed. Colorful insults were used the likes of which Amelia had never heard before. Bobby stuck his head out for a second to make sure no one was dying, and four perfectly aimed snowballs plastered him with snow. Amelia personally thought she heard him lock the door after he slammed it shut. It ended when the brothers, being boys, wrestled each other to a stalemate in the deepest snow. Jo and her just watched, and they eventually emerged, panting, cold and snow encased. Dean was laughing, Sam seemed unimpressed, until he glanced at the snow and saw a perfect snow angel where Dean had originally pushed him in.
"Hey Dean," he pointed with a half-smile, "it's a snow-Cas."
They shared a look for a moment, then the four stumbled into the kitchen, with numb hands and feet, trying to brush off the snow that had worked its way into seemingly every crease of their clothes.
"Cold," Jo's teeth chattered, as she rubbed her arms trying to work some heat back into them.
Bobby squawked as snow cascaded onto his floor, making puddles everywhere.
"God, I would kill for some hot cocoa," Dean muttered.
"Merry Christmas, sweetie," Ellen put a warm mug into his hands. "Bobby got a little generous with the whiskey."
"Ah, you're the best Ellen," he gave his trademark grin. "Warms you up in more ways then one."
Ellen handed the rest of them mugs.
"Well, technically," Sam started, "Alcohol cools you off. It's a-"
"Sammy," Dean scolded him, "shut up and drink your cocoa."
Sam gave him a look, but took a sip. "This is great, thanks Ellen."
"Glad you boys could come," she smiled at him.
A brief awkward silence followed, where everyone smiled sappily at each other over their mugs of spiked cocoa. Like some freaking Christmas card, Amelia thought. She peeled off pretty quick to go change clothes and grab a blanket.
When she went back upstairs, Bobby's old beat up TV was set up in the living room, and Dean and Sam were having a nice brotherly argument.
"It's a classic, Dean," Sam glared at him. "You love movies!"
"Angels are dicks, man," Dean pouted, "I don't want to watch a movie about them."
"Can't break tradition," Ellen patted him on the back sympathetically.
"Yea, Dean, all around the world, people gather in front of the television for this. It's something normal people do."
"Hell of a long movie," Bobby grumbled to himself. "But if we have to do it-" he topped off his flask.
They jockeyed for spots on the couch (Dean and Jo conveniently ended up sitting next to each other, with Ellen on the end to shoot Dean icy glances if he got too familiar), the rest sitting in the squashy old recliners Bobby had dug up from God knows where.
Amelia curled up in her La-Z Boy with a fresh cup of hot chocolate and a thick blanket as the opening credits of "It's a Wonderful Life" played across the screen.
Dean griped his way through the movie, but when Clarence granted George Bailey his wish of never having been born, he shrugged. "Well, they got that part right," he allowed. "Because angels are dicks!" he yelled at the television. Jo patted his hand with a small smile. Ellen gave her daughter a tired look. Sam smirked.
The movie dragged on. Sam seemed to be the only one really paying attention. Jo and Dean started to steal glances into each other's eyes, to Amelia's vast amusement. Then Ellen and Bobby started to share glances, too, looking like parents proud of their children. Amelia endured it for a while, but eventually she just couldn't take it anymore. She slipped away when no one seemed to be paying attention. She wandered downstairs, but there was no way she was going to sleep. She grabbed a beer, and took a seat on the workbench in the basement.
Her first Christmas without her family, and it was more of a Christmas than she had ever experienced with her own family. She laughed to herself, bitterly, taking a drink. And, in spite of herself, a tear rolled down her cheek. Sam chose that moment to come down the stairs. He paused when he saw her, sitting hugging her knees to her chest.
"Mind if I join you?"
She shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes. He walked over to the bench, and hopped up beside her.
"Got a little, too," she spun a hand in the air, "too," she finished lamely.
Because he wasn't Dean, Sam didn't make any comment that she had essentially just said "tutu."
"Coupley?" he suggested.
"Something like that," she sipped her beer.
"How are you doing, Amelia?" he asked, after a few minutes.
She didn't give him any reply.
"First Christmas without your family. It must be tough."
She laughed for real this time, bitterly. "Christmases were hell."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Sam said.
"I mean, sure I miss my brother," she couldn't take another awkward silence. "But other than that..." Crap, she ran out of words.
"I lost Dean for four months one time," Sam didn't let the silence drag on, thankfully. "He was just... gone. Dead. I was a wreck."
"We looked out for each other," Amelia gripped her knees tightly. "He was only a year older, but he always took care of me. When we were kids, he'd-" her face wrinkled up, as she tried not to cry. She had never talked about her brother, since he died. Not to Bobby, or Jo, not to any of her friends. She had locked it away inside of herself. She didn't cry, not since she was a little kid.
When she didn't continue, Sam started talking. "When we were kids, our dad would leave us alone for weeks at a time. Dean was maybe eight, I was four when he started leaving on hunts. Dean would make Spaghetti-o's in the microwave and PB&Js for me. And at night, he'd sleep with a gun under his pillow, always looking out for me. Hell, Dean raised me, not my dad. I know what you're going through, Amelia. Please don't go through it alone. You don't have to talk to me if you don't want, but Bobby, Jo, someone, please."
She didn't say anything for a while, but then she started talking, in a very soft voice, and she couldn't seem to stop. She told him about when her and Paul had been kids, with barely enough food to eat, but not knowing the difference and enjoying the long summer days together. Learning all the constellations in the sky because they stayed up all night. Attending three or four schools during the school year. Paul insisting she do her homework, even though the table smelled like rotten milk and the chair creaked. Bad motel beds and never having the chance to make any friends before their father lost their job and they moved on. Paul, stepping in to take a beating for her, even egging their father on so he would forget any offense Amelia had committed in his anger against his son. Trying to patch up Paul afterward, that's when she first wanted to be a nurse, so she would be able to stop his pain. Paul, working two jobs to put himself through college and keep a two room apartment so she wouldn't have to live with their parents anymore. The pride in his eyes when she received a full scholarship. Paul, encouraging her to keep studying when she was struggling with classes. Paul's wedding, and the newlywed's tiny house where the couch was always open for her. Paul, dangling and bloody, strigoi ripping at him, but looking in her eyes, not letting her drift off into the welcoming blackness. Paul. Paul.
"We were just visiting for the weekend," she said, bitterly. "Mom's birthday. That's the stupid thing. One weekend out of the whole year, and-"
Her lips pressed together, and she started spinning Paul's wedding band on her finger. Sam touched her shoulder. She tensed, but didn't move away, so he patted her shoulder very, very gently. That's when she finally lost it. After five months, her walled-up emotions broke through, and she couldn't push the torrent back, even though she felt stupid for crying at Sam's gesture of comfort. A few tears at first, then Sam shifted closer, looping his arm around her back in a comforting gesture, murmuring something no doubt meant to be soothing. She sobbed against Sam's shoulder, shaking with the strength of her sobs, and he gently held her from toppling off the workbench. She mourned Paul, and the ache she still felt without his presence. The horror of the vampires and the empty feeling when everything she had ever known seemed to vanish. For all the times she woke up in the middle of the night, screaming.
After what seemed like forever, she gradually stopped crying. She never stopped feeling ridiculous for crying in the first place, however. She glanced at Sam, a huge dark stain of tears and snot covering his shoulder.
"I'm sorry about," she gestured to his shoulder.
He smiled. "Hey, I sort of pushed you into it, you don't have to apologize. "
Amelia wiped her face off. "Sure, ok." She felt like an idiot for blubbering all over Sam. "Movie has to be over," she said. "I'm going to sleep."
She glanced up and their eyes met for a second. Sam gave her a quick smile. "Probably a good idea. See you tomorrow, Amy."
He stood, brushing off the back of his pants, and gave her another smile. "Night." He walked up the stairs, and Amelia went to the panic room, locking from the inside, and crashed on the bed, clothes and all. For once, she didn't have nightmares when she slept.
Aw, Sam being all caring and cute! Hope you don't mind the chick flick moment too much. And no, I'm not trying to set them up as a couple. Sam just is the only one who will actually really talk about feelings and such.