The next day, Amelia stood on top of a ridge, watching the little lake beneath her that looked deceptively peaceful.
"Hurry up, guys," she keyed into her walkie talkie, "this thing has to know you're getting close."
She heard the engine of the back hoe rev up, as Dean put the finishing touches on a small channel that would let the lake drain into the nearby river. Most of the dynamite was already in place, Sam was down on the far end putting in the last few sticks. It would help the water drain faster, and give the naiad less time to fight back. After stealing the plans for draining the lake, along with twice as much dynamite as the engineers deemed necessary, Dean had plopped a hard hat on his head and said that he had always wanted to work construction. Or destruction. Or anything with big yellow machinery and things that went ka-boom.
Amelia watched the backhoe dig out the final bit of dirt that held the water back. Dean threw it in reverse as the water started draining out. When the backhoe was a safe distance away, Dean's voice crackled in over the walkie talkie. "Hit the charges, Sammy!"
Even from a few hundred yards away, Amelia still covered her ears when the blast of sound hit her. Dirt erupted into the air in a mostly straight line pointed towards the stream.
Then Amelia saw the naiad. "Dean," she shouted into the mike, "look out, it's at the mouth of the channel!"
She grabbed her salt gun, and sprinted down the hill towards Dean. The naiad was watery, dark, and even from a distance she could see that it was pissed. The thing flowed towards the backhoe, screaming. Dean jumped out the other side, and ran away, pulling out his own gun. They had no way of knowing if the guns would actually work, but Sam had conjectured something about fresh water spirits and salt that sounded better than any of their other options.
Amelia angled to the right, so she would catch up with Dean as he ran, still keeping an eye on the naiad which chased after him up the hill. He kept his distance, barely, while the naiad showed no signs of slowing down. She got closer, and checked to make sure her gun was loaded.
"Hey!" she shouted at the naiad, and the watery, black, snarling... thing, paused for a second. Amelia's blast of rock salt caught it right where its chest would be. It screamed, and fell to the ground.
"What the hell?" Dean shouted, pausing for half a second to catch his breath. "You were supposed to stay back!"
The naiad started to get up, moving towards Amelia. Dean shot it in the head, and it stumbled backwards a step.
"Salt's not going to hold it back for ever," Amelia shouted to him. "I can run faster, lure it away."
She loaded another round into her sawed off, and blasted it in the head again. "We don't need too much time, and you can't run much more."
Dean didn't argue with her. He shot the naiad once more, and ran off into the woods.
Amelia waited a few seconds, to make sure the naiad would follow her, then shot it again for good measure and loped off in a different direction. She heard it follow her, burbling, screaming. Not far behind at all. Amelia kept her breath even, and settled into a quick pace that let her stay just in front of it. Every few minutes, she spun, took aim, and shot it in the chest. While it writhed on the ground, Amelia caught a few breaths, shot it again, then reloaded and took off again. Each time, the lake had drained more, and the naiad seemed to be weaker.
Finally, a few miles from the lake, the naiad never got up again. It lay on the ground, coughing. Amelia stood a ways off, panting, but holding her gun up, and ready to bolt at the first sign of danger. But after flopping around on the ground for a few seconds, the naiad simply exploded into water, and soaked into the ground.
Amelia lowered her gun, staring at the spot where the naiad had so recently been. Then she pulled out her walkie talkie. "Hey guys, the naiad's dead. I'm not entirely sure where I am, meet you back at the Impala?"
"Wait, you went after the naiad?" Amelia could hear Sam's bitchface over the walkie talkie. "Dean!"
She turned down the volume as they descended into an argument, and after getting her cardinal directions from the sun, made her way in what she hoped was the general direction of the Impala. Even guessing at the direction, she still made it back to the car before either brother, and she hopped up on the back to wait for them.
Sam and Dean emerged a few minutes later, both gesticulating and yelling at each other.
"Are you alright?" Sam demanded, stalking towards her.
"Yea," she made it sound blatantly obvious. "It was actually kind of cool. Dissolved into water, just disappeared."
"It could have killed you," Sam slammed his hand down on the bumper.
"It could have killed Dean," she told him. "But he could outrun it. I figured I had a better chance then him in those boots."
That earned her a scowl from both Sam and Dean.
She smiled brightly. "Wanna ditch this place before the cops descend on us?"
They climbed in the car, but they weren't happy about it.
Amelia experienced her first Winchester style post-hunt celebration that night. Dean drank enough for everyone in the bar, and Sam joined him for a few beers. Dean challenged Amelia to a pool game, and by the time Sam called it a night, they had played two games. The first one Dean had been distracted by the bartender and lost, much to his surprise. Amelia and Sam had a good laugh about that.
The second game Dean won, but only narrowly. Now, in the third game both had gotten down to business.
The noise of the bar and the buzzing in her own head faded as Amelia zeroed in on the pool table. Every single shot counted. She could see the white ball, and the thousand ways she could hit it, the ten thousand ways it could rebound off the bumpers. Amelia took a breath, edged her cue over half a hair, and hit the ball. It ricocheted off of one bumper, and smacked into her striped ball with just enough force to send it into the pocket.
"Whoo!" She fist pumped, lining up her next shot, which knocked one of her stripes into prime position, and left the white ball in a bad position for Dean.
Dean shook his head. "Nice shot." He eyed the white ball, judging the best move to get out of the predicament. His next shot put two of his solids into a pocket.
Some of the other patrons drifted over to watch the showdown.
As the game went on and the next one started, their shots became gradually more daring and reckless. With no money down, it really didn't matter who won the game anymore, now they were just showing off. Dean sunk a solid after a triple rebound shot from behind his back. Amelia knocked three of her balls into two pockets. Dean cut a single ball out of a crowd of Amelia's and knocked it into the pocket. Amelia called the least likely pocket for the eight ball and drained it. If she had noticed the small crowd of observers, she might have been surprised, but the only thing she noticed was the game, and the thousand different ways she could make a shot.
When the bar closed, they walked back to the motel laughing, buzzed off of alcohol and the thrill of the night.
"Dude, that backspin shot you did," Amelia stuffed her hands in her pockets, "I have got to learn how to do that!"
"You had some pretty good shots, too," he told her, "you can really play the bumpers."
Their eyes met and they shared a smile, but after a second Amelia glanced away.
"We'll definitely have to play again some time," she told him.
"You know you're not a bad kid," Dean mused.
She didn't say anything to that. Really, what could you say? Thanks?
"You're a good hunter," he went on. "A little impulsive, but as long as you keep your head on straight you'll be fine."
They walked on in silence.
"Just take care of yourself, ok?" he finished.
"Oooh-kay," she whistled, "awkward. Are you drunk?"
Dean chuckled. "No! Not really. I mean, I don't think so?" He studied the streetlight.
Amelia laughed. "Time for bed," she snagged the motel keys out of his hand and opened the door. "Thanks for playing pool, Dean," she said as he flopped down on his bed. "It was a lot of fun."
Dean's snores joined those of his brother's.
"You're going to have a hangover tomorrow," she muttered to the quiet room. "But, then again, so am I.."
Since it was a singularly horrible idea to go for a run when she was mostly drunk, Amelia settled for sitting on a bus bench playing with her lighter for a while until the fog from the alcohol and the pain from putting out the flame became way too much for her. She stumbled back into the motel room, and fell into the couch, which still smelled like smoke.
All she had to do was remember to sleep on her stomach...
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
Amelia woke up to Sam towering over her.
"Check this out!"
She jumped to her feet, head spinning, and lunged away, blanket tangling around her feet. She tumbled backwards over the couch, arms flailing. Amelia ended up laying tangled up on the floor, staring at the ceiling.
"Owww," she commented, closing her eyes.
"Whoa!" Sam came around the end of the couch. "Are you alright? I'm so sorry!"
She gingerly touched the back of her head. There didn't seem to be any trauma. Her head probably just hurt from the hangover. Hopefully...
"I think I'm ok?" she didn't sound too sure.
Sam crouched beside her and helped her sit up. "I'm sorry," he said again.
"Yea, got that," she grunted, leaning up against the back of the couch. "Why did you wake me up?"
"Huh?" he stared at her for a second, then, "oh, yea!" He bounced up, and leaned over the couch to grab the sheet of paper he had dropped. "Reanimated bodies in Tennessee."
From a combination of hangover and smacked head, she couldn't read the words scribbled on the paper.
"Hmm," she hoped she sounded interested. "Zombies?"
"Looks like. I was sort of excited. Dean's rubbed off on me I guess."
"No, it's cool. Zombies!" she stretched her hands out, "rarrr! Brains!"
"Are you still drunk?" Sam looked at her suspiciously.
Amelia stared at the way his hair floated around whenever he moved his head. Such feathery hair...
"I hit my head?" she told him. "Owww," she stuck on a again for good measure.
"Yea, sure," he sighed. "Come on, you can take the bed now that I'm up, alright?"
She let him help her up, and pull her arm over his shoulder, which was uncomfortably high for her to reach. He guided her towards the bed, and almost had her in it before sudden chills ran down her spine. She couldn't sleep any more. She had made it a few hours on the couch without starting a fire, no way she could get any more sleep without triggering a nightmare. Amelia pulled away from Sam, and stood tottering by herself.
"Actually, I think I need a shower," she started talking, saying something, anything. "And some water. Probably brush my teeth."
"Nuh-uh," he told her. "You can't walk straight, I'll get you some water but you should probably lie down. Get some more sleep."
She saw Dean buried in his blankets, and wanted so bad to fall back asleep. But she couldn't.
"Nope," she bent down an inch, ignoring the throbbing in her head, and snagged her backpack. "Shower time!"
"If you slip and kill yourself in the shower," Sam sighed, "I am not helping you, just so you know."
"Fair enough," she shut the door in his face with a bright smile.
Her heart didn't slow down until she had been in the shower for ten minutes.
Dean was up when she came out, sitting on the edge of his bed massaging his head.
"Shower's open," she told him.
He grunted, and stood, wandering into the bathroom.
"So, zombies," Amelia grabbed the piece of paper from Sam, now that she could actually read again.
Three reanimated corpses in a small Tennessee town. All undeniably, unequivocally dead, and all mysteriously alive again.
Damn it. She didn't want to see any more of the Winchesters, she wanted to get another decent night's sleep without worrying that someone would find out that the demons had poisoned her. But damn it all, zombies. Rare, with many different causes. No way she wanted to miss out on zombies.
"Do you want to come along on this one?" Sam asked her. "Not something you see every day, even as a hunter."
"Hell yes," Amelia grinned. "I mean, if Dean's doesn't mind me tagging along."
"Eh, I don't think he'll mind too much. You did put yourself out on a limb for him with the naiad."
She smiled. "Let's go find the walking dead then, shall we?"
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
Sam gave up trying to run with Amelia after the third night in Tennessee. She quite literally ran him into the ground. Amelia appreciated the solitude on her runs after that, and was finally able to practice her powers again. She had her own room, so she slept better without having to worry about causing even the tiniest spark. The zombies turned out to be caused by witches, and Dean turned out to be surprisingly decent about Amelia coming along for the hunt.
Still, when they had killed the witches responsible and properly celebrated, Amelia made her goodbyes. No way she would keep hunting with them, not until she knew for sure she wouldn't start her bed on fire in the middle of the night.
After a couple weeks, she found a haunting in Georgia, and then a nice crappy motel in Florida with marathons and hustling to pay for the room. She practiced with fire every night, getting more control over it. After a week, she discovered she could control heat, not just create fire. Cases seemed to be few and far between, so she holed up in the warmer climate for a few weeks. Amelia kept in contact with Bobby, in case a hunt did turn up.
When Thanksgiving rolled around, Amelia loaded her things into the Firebird, which actually had started to feel like home, and started the long drive up to South Dakota. She didn't mind, the open road gave her a thrill. Except for stopping for gas, Amelia drove straight through, and arrived dead tired and grinning widely.
"Hey Bobby!" she called out as she lugged her duffel in through the door. "Jo! Ellen."
They all sat around the table. Jo waved and gave her a wide smile. "Hey Lia, long time no see."
"How was the drive?" Bobby asked.
"Long," she yawned. "Took me over a day. Good, though."
"You drove for a day straight?" Ellen looked at her incredulously.
Amelia grinned, then had to yawn again. "Yea, I'm going to sleep. Night guys. Or morning. Or whatever it is..." She honestly had no clue, and didn't really care.
Once in the panic room again, she breathed in the familiar scent of dust, cement, and machinery. She didn't have to worry about burning anything in the panic room, the only thing that would catch fire was the bed. Amelia collapsed onto the bed with a grateful sigh, and quickly fell asleep.
Time for another hunter holiday! Or is it? You never know with hunters. :) Thanks again for reading, I will post again soon. I promise there will be more of the Winchesters and Harvelles in the next few chapters.