As always, thanks for reading and reviewing. :) One fairly long chapter coming right up!
"Amelia, Amelia can you wake up for me?"
She opened her eyes. A kind looking male doctor smiled down at her.
"How are you feeling?"
She shrugged, awkwardly because she was still laying down in the bed. "Ok, I guess."
"Can I do a quick check up?" Amelia nodded her permission, and the doctor started looking her over. "I admit we were a little puzzled as to what was wrong with you. Can you fill me in?"
"Uh," he shined a light in her eye, checking for any signs of a concussion. "I've had a few concussions in the past. I think it was just blood loss and a little head trauma. Maybe some whiplash?"
"How does your head feel now?"
"Not too bad. A little headache, I guess."
"Can you get up and walk for me?"
She slid off the bed, and though her legs shook a little bit, she managed to walk in a straight line.
He finished his tests, and pronounced her healthy. "Just take it easy for a few days, but if you start having bad headaches, you should probably get some scans done."
Haha, bad headaches. But she just nodded and thanked him.
After the doctor left, Bobby came in, carrying her backpack.
"Get a clean bill a' health?" he asked.
"I guess so," she said, and he nodded to the backpack.
"Ya can change into yer own clothes," he told her. "We'll be in Jo's room when yer done."
"Thanks Bobby," she said as he walked out again, and she gratefully pulled off the hospital garb, changing into a comfortable pair of jeans and one of her brother's old sweatshirts. She couldn't bring herself to throw them away, even though some of them barely held together.
After changing, she shouldered the backpack, and walked down to Jo's room, where everyone sat in chairs, talking in rather subdued tones. Jo's eyes were open, and she saw Amelia hesitating in the doorframe.
"Hey Lia!" she called out with a weak smile.
"Hey Jo," Amelia smiled back. "How're-ya feeling?" She stood by the bed side again, pushed away the memory of the recent panic attack, and did her best to grin down at Jo. Her eyes were glassy from the drugs, but her smile seemed genuine.
"Pretty weak," Jo complained. "Docs wanna keep me here another couple days."
"That sucks," Amelia told her.
"How're you? What happened anyways? They've been dodgy about it." She heard someone shift behind her, and a couple people inhale sharply and hold their breath. Waiting for her to have another panic attack, no doubt.
"I'm fine," Amelia told her, sticking to Jo's first question. "Doc just released me, actually. Hope you won't think less of me if I run for the hills."
"No honor among thieves," Jo pouted, her eyes drifting shut. "Glad yer ok," her words started to slur together. "Thanksfer, thanksfer helpin' meaut. Witha vamps..."
"Get some rest, Jo," Amelia told her as the drugs overpowered Jo's weak grip on consciousness.
"Mmmrbl," Jo muttered as she slipped away.
Amelia chuckled. "She seems ok," she said, as much to herself as to the small crowd sitting in the chairs behind her.
"She'll be up in no time," Ellen looked much more relaxed than she had earlier. "Ya'll get out of here," she told them. "Go get some food, some rest. I'll stay with Jo."
The older woman didn't have to tell Amelia twice. She had already smelled way too much disinfectant for one day. Dean, who had apparently caught a nap at the hotel while coming off of the drugs after getting patched up at the hospital, stayed back so Ellen didn't have to sit alone.
The afternoon light pierced into Amelia's head when she stepped outside, but she gritted her teeth and bore it, following Bobby to his car. Sam took Ellen's car to fill it up with gas, leaving Bobby and Amelia alone in the Chevelle for the drive to the motel.
"Ellen told me what happened when she asked ya 'bout the vampires," Bobby said in his gruff way, pulling out of the parking lot.
Amelia stared out the windshield, grabbing onto her leg tight with her hand, relishing the pain of her fingernails digging into her leg. Anything to keep off another panic attack. From thinking about the vampires, and Jo bleeding out on the floor.
"Ya think ya can tell me what happened?"
"I was in Louisiana," she told him her prepared lie. "Found this hoodoo witch, decent sort of witch. She gave me some hex bags, said they'd explode. At the time I tried a couple out just to see if they'd work. You saw what they did, I guess. Those were the last two. I was going to try to save one for you, so you could find out what made them work, sorry."
"Yers and Jo's necks are worth more'n that," Bobby told her. "Why'dja react so bad when Ellen asked ya?"
Amelia rubbed her palm on the leg of her jeans, trying to get some of the sweat off. "I just- I remembered the way Dean came at me when he thought I might be a vampire. Drugs were still messing with my head. Flipped out I guess."
"Y'alright now?"
She nodded. "I think so."
"I'm sorry ya got dragged into this whole mess of a life," Bobby grunted as he pulled up in front of the motel. "Ye're a good kid, Amelia. You deserve a helluva better life than huntin'."
He parked the car.
"Those were the first attacks I've had in months," she snapped at him, not able to hold back her tongue. "Back in college I'd get one a week. Sure, they're hell. But that don't mean they're caused by hunting."
Bobby's brow furrowed, as she climbed out and closed the door with a little more force than necessary. But he shook his head, grabbed the key to the motel room, and showed her the way.
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
Two days later when Jo finally argued her way out of the hospital, they started the long trip back to Sioux Falls. Amelia accepted Dean's invitation to ride with them, and spent most of the drive sprawled in the back seat of the Impala, nose pointed towards the roof snoring away softly.
Whenever Dean noticed that she was awake, he grilled her on classic rock band trivia. Amelia managed to not entirely embarrass herself, though her knowledge wasn't quite up to Dean's high standards. Everyone was tired from long days at the hospital and sore from wounds, but no huge fights broke out. The Impala just cruised down the road, and in spite of Amelia's ever-present fear of starting a fire, the hum of the tires always lulled her back to sleep. She didn't have a single dream the whole ride up to South Dakota.
"Well," Bobby sighed as they clumped into the house, everyone tired from the ride and still healing from the vampires, "I think the turkey's defrosted by now."
Ellen, supporting a still-feeble Jo through the door, laughed uproariously. "That it might be, Singer," she chuckled, wiping a laughter tear from her eye. She was just glad of any excuse to laugh and let go of the worry and tension of the last few days.
Jo just rolled her dropping eyes, and let her mother guide her to the couch.
"Happy Thanksgiving," Bobby grunted, looking at all the ingredients for a thanksgiving dinner, and sighed again at the thought of having to cook.
"Happy Thanksgiving!" Amelia smirked, and grabbed a can of cranberry sauce. After popping the top off, she dug in with a spoon, eating it straight from the can.
Dean stared at her, fascinated and disgusted.
"What?" she asked through a mouthful of the delicious tart berries. "Cranberry sauce is the best part of Thanksgiving, anyways."
"Pie?!" Dean tossed his arms up. "Thanksgiving is pie holiday. Pieee!" He called the word like a junkie whining for his drug of choice.
Sam just shook his head.
"I think there's some canned pumpkin if ya feel like pullin' an Amelia," Bobby suggested, chuckling cruelly.
Dean pouted, and Amelia half expected him to throw a fit. The pain from a strained wrist and a nice assortment of bruises made him cranky.
"We'll make some pie tomorrow, ok?" Sam tried to placate his older brother. "We all should get some sleep now, though. Ellen, do you need anything before we turn in?"
Amelia slipped away to the panic room, still munching on her cranberry sauce, and deposited her things on the floor. Even though she had gotten quite a bit of sleep on the way up, she wouldn't turn down the chance of another few hours of uninterrupted shut eye. She was still recovering from blowing up the vampires and the injuries she had received. Taking a final bite of cranberries, she rolled into her bed, took a deep breath, and relaxed into the lumpy mattress that smelled like home. Just before she drifted off, a small smile lit up her tired face. Practicing making fire had certainly come in handy. No denying that.
The vampire smiled, its fangs bloody, as it stalked towards Amelia. She cowered against the wall, shivering. It came closer, and she could smell the blood. Slowly, it leaned towards her neck, and kissed her skin in a sick parody of a lover's caress. Then she felt the cold teeth pierce her neck, and her own warm blood trickle down her neck.
"Kill it," the demon whispered in her ear. "Kill it, you can kill it."
No, she couldn't use her powers, she couldn't give into the demon.
The vampire laughed as it drank her blood, and Amelia flinched. The vampire exploded into pieces, bathing her in blood and bones.
"Good," the demon petted her cheek, "you're doing so well."
She woke up when her burning blankets blankets started to scorch her skin. Swearing, she stomped out the fire, and sat back down on her bed, breathing hard, clutching her head. She had to calm back down or she would get another panic attack, and she was not in the mood for that again. After a few minutes, her breathing steadied, and she risked standing up. The world spun around her, but she gritted her teeth, and walked up the stairs to start the morning coffee. A huge pot, with six hunters in the house. Itching the vampire bite on her arm absentmindedly, she sipped her scalding coffee, trying to wake up.
After her second cup, she started a batch of pancakes. Bobby was the first one to come down, followed shortly by Dean, who mutely grabbed his coffee and stared into the depths like it contained the mysteries of the universe. He was in his third cup before he said a word to either of them. Bobby threw the well-defrosted turkey in the oven, and they munched away on pancakes. Jo wandered down a while later, taking the steps carefully and well bundled up, but smiling. The bandages on her neck were still painfully visible, but some of her color was starting to come back. She sat down to pancakes without a word.
Sam drifted in, long hair still tousled from his night's rest, and had to wait for the next batch of coffee to brew. Ellen came down last after taking a shower.
They were all still in various stages of un-rest, whether due to bothersome injuries or nightmares, so no one really said anything as they nursed their mugs of coffee and ate pancakes. The mood lightened a little once the morning dose of pain pills kicked in, but they settled in for a long, lazy day.
Jo coached Dean through baking pumpkin pie, the resultant pie being surprisingly edible. Amelia peeled and boiled some potatoes, judging that she couldn't mess that up, so they had mashed potatoes, too.
Sometime in the early afternoon, they tucked in to the turkey, and had their delayed Thanksgiving dinner. Compared to the riotous Christmas the year before, the celebration was subdued, but no one could accuse the hunters of being unthankful. Merely the fact that they were all alive, even if they had bites and bruises, was enough to be thankful.
Everyone settled in to heal and sleep for a few days.
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
One night after Jo had gone to bed early, Ellen came back downstairs and interrupted the poker game in the kitchen.
"Look, ya'll, I really don't know how to say this," she crossed her arms. "I know it wasn't your fault Jo got hurt, Dean, Sam, but if somethin' happens to her, I don't want to have to blame one of you for it and lose someone else, too. I spent a lot of years mad at your daddy, and I don't want to spend any time mad at you boys. I guess what I'm tryin' to say, is I don't think we can hunt together anymore. If I lose her, the only I can stand to blame is myself. I'm sorry, but that's the way it has to be."
"Night boys, Amelia," she left, and walked back upstairs.
Dean tried to cover his stricken expression as he dealt out the next hand.
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
Jo didn't sleep well, with her sore neck and the drugs. Often in the middle of the night, she would take the long trek down the stairs to the panic room, where she and Amelia had long conversations while the others slept. They talked about anything, just for something to say when neither of them could sleep. Lucky Charms, or their favorite books, or the sound water fountains make. Lazy conversations made up of whatever thoughts drifted through their midnight brains.
Sometimes Jo passed out on the bed, and Amelia would keep watch the rest of the night, not trusting herself to sleep with Jo so close and still so weak. Sometimes Amelia fell asleep, and she would wake up the next morning, blanket tucked around her and Jo gone.
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
Sam and Dean left first. Dean itched to get out on the road again, in spite of the lazy days and supply of cheap alcohol. He and Jo had reached an unspoken agreement of sorts. It was obvious to everyone that they favored each other, but romantic relationships had never worked out well for either of them, and they didn't want to mess their friendship up. Especially when they were wary of angering Ellen. So they ended up dancing around the topic of dating, never actually bringing it up. But whenever they were in the same room, they always ended up sitting next to each other, and to Amelia's amusement often ended up staring into each other's eyes.
In a last minute decision, Amelia went with Sam and Dean. She hadn't entirely recovered from the vampire incident. Migraines hit her out of nowhere, even when she hadn't been practicing extinguishing fire, and she didn't trust herself to hunt alone. Or even drive when the headaches were the worst. The Winchesters might be overprotective and they would certainly freak out if they found out about the demon blood, but she would at least have someone to bring her Chinese takeout and aspirin when the headaches were bad. She had also completely cut out practicing with fire, at least until the headaches dissipated, so she didn't have to worry about them finding that way. Over the last week, she had gotten herself in the habit of sleeping on her stomach, hands safely trapped under her body. It drastically reduced the chance of fire catching, and she trusted herself to hold together enough to actually hunt with the brothers.
There had been a few times she woke up from a nightmare without starting her blankets on fire, but without the catalyst of the fire to encourage her to move, she would just lay there curled up in a tiny ball, not able to cope with the aftereffects of the nightmares.
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
Dean sang along to Metallica as he pulled the Impala out onto the highway, heading to a potential case in Michigan. Sam reviewed the information on the case, silent in the front seat. Staring out the window, Amelia watched the uniform whiteness of Minnesota roll by for a while. Eventually, the hum of the tires and Dean's soft singing lulled her to sleep, and she passed out against the window. No nightmares. Apparently the Impala acted as some sort of antidote to her horrible dreams. She wasn't going to argue.
Amelia always tried to get her sleep in the Impala after that. Blissful hours of sleep between towns, a half hour nap here, five minutes there. Dean didn't say anything, if he even noticed, but Amelia often saw Sam studying her in his mirror when she woke up after a quick nap.
"You should sleep, Amy," he told her, when he woke up in the middle of the night and she was still up researching on her computer...
Sam shook his head when she came into the motel room at five in the morning after a nice long run...
"When are you going to sleep," he muttered when they worked a case for a week and she ran on pretty much no sleep because they didn't drive the Impala much and she couldn't catch a nap. She just smiled thinly at him, and drank more coffee. The headaches grew steadily worse, and she didn't practice with fire at all...
Finally, somewhere in Nevada, when Amelia hadn't gotten more than three hours of sleep in four days, Sam hit his breaking point.
In the middle of the afternoon, she sat at the little rickety table, trying to focus her eyes on the blob of light her computer screen had become. Sam looked over her notes, trying to decipher the chicken scratch of her handwriting. Dean was out doing Dean things. After a few minutes of staring at the paper, Sam threw it down in disgust.
"Amelia," he snapped, "bed. Sleep. Now."
Glancing up from her computer, Amelia just blinked at him. No sleep was preferable to sleep plagued by nightmares.
"I'm fine," she snapped back, knowing that he wouldn't believe it, and not caring.
"I don't know what you're trying to avoid by staying awake, but you have to get some sleep." He showed her the sheet of paper, and even Amelia couldn't make out a single word on it.
"Half of this is ancient Greek letters. You were writing in English, Amy."
He certainly had a point there. But the nightmares. She ran a hand over her tired, aching eyes, and wished she could just ignore him. Wished he would stop pressing her.
"I know what nightmares are like," he persisted. "Believe me, I do. But trust me, you're only hurting yourself. Get some sleep, please."
Blinking back the beginnings of a migraine, Amelia sighed, a dull resignation coming over her blood shot eyes. He was right, after all. Much more and she would probably pass out at the table.
"Fine. Just so you shut up."
She slammed her computer shut, took the one step to Sam's bed, she trusted it way more than Dean's, and collapsed on top of the rumpled blankets. The pillow did feel wonderful under her screaming head, and she fervently hoped she wouldn't burn it in her sleep. After making sure her hands were tucked securely under her body, Amelia finally allowed herself to go to sleep.
An hour or so later, she woke up screaming her throat raw.
"Amy!" Sam's voice came from a long way off, as she clutched her hands around her head to stave off the demon's bloody hand that was so close to pressing over her mouth, forcing her to drink the choking blood. The fire, the demons, the vampires... Her father. A royal buffet of nightmare fuel.
"Amy," she felt the bed depress under his weight, and a soft touch on her shoulder. "Amy, hey there. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
She tuned him out, as she tried to forget the images, but couldn't help but remember them. The memory of the demon was never far enough away. Her entire body clenched up tight, shaking, and her heart rattled around her chest. Her breath came in sharp, pained gasps.
"Stay with me, hmm?" he rubbed her shoulder, trying to reassure her that she wasn't alone.
But, like it so often happened when she woke up from her nightmares, she simply didn't have the will to move. The images overwhelmed her, terrified her, and she curled into a tight ball, either having a panic attack, or trying to prevent one. She was never quite sure which, through the numbness of her thoughts.
It barely registered in her mind when Sam carefully gathered her up into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. They sat like that for a long time.
"You don't get nightmares when you sleep in the car, do you," he said, after a long while.
The dreams had faded enough for her to give the tiniest shake of her head.
"I'm sorry you get them," Sam said. "But you have to sleep sometime."
They sat in silence for a few more minutes.
"Could see if I can wake you up if you get another nightmare," Sam considered. "You might start twitching or moving around."
After suppressing a shudder, Amelia pulled away from him and stood up, running a still-shaking hand through her hair. "No way I'm sleeping any more today," she told him, bitterly. Her body was tired down to her bones, so exhausted she felt it as a physical ache, but she wouldn't have been able to fall asleep if she even wanted to.
Sam gave her a sad, puppy dog look, but she steeled herself against it.
"Going for a run, see you 'round supper time," she told him, and escaped out the door.
I admit that I occasionally do eat cranberry sauce straight from the can, to pretty much everyone's disgusted fascination. :) It is totally the best part of Thanksgiving.
Drawing close-ish to the end here. Maybe 15K words left, plus a maybe few short epilogues if I feel like writing them. Prepare yourself for action, drama, and feels. You can't say I didn't warn you!