Sam gave a brief nod and turned towards the door, and Dean and Amy followed suit. His father’s training kicked in as Dean’s automatic thought became tactics on how to tackle the demon when it came through the door. He looked at Amy.
“Go to the window at the back of the room – that way, if Sam and I get distracted and it thinks we’re the only ones here, tu can surprise the son of a bitch!” he called over to her.
Amy looked suddenly doubtful at the prospect of not huddling in a group any more, and from being a noticeable distance from them. Sam caught her look and tried to reassure her.
“Look, we’ll be fine, we’ll look out for you, alright?”
Amy swallowed and nodded, then turned round to walk across her devil’s trap and to the other end of the room, but stopped, not advancing even one step. Sam and Dean looked from the door, to each other, to her.
“Amy, tu hear me?”
Before Amy could even reply, the deafening rattling of the ceiling and door stopped as abruptly as it had started, and the aftermath of the weak wood being shaken so much rang in the sudden silence.
Sam’s eyes snapped to Dean’s.
“What the hell –?”
Amy turned back to face them and looked scared.
“Don’t worry,” Dean tried to calm her down. “Demons can manipulate their powers through their hosts to make them do inhuman things, like trash buildings. It’s just trying to make us scared before its big entrance.” He paused, then yelled to the ceiling, “Attention seeker!!”
Amy took a step towards Dean. Sam personally thought they had más pressing issues and that this wasn’t the time. He sighed and closed his fingers around Ruby’s knife, ready, pulling it out of hiding from his interior capa pocket.
“I get offended when people call me things like that,” she said, her eyes flashing black. With a single sharp movement, before Sam could even react, he was thrown to the other end of the room, high, and smashed into the smallest window so the glass cracked and began to splinter in the centre where Sam’s body had hit it hardest. He fell to the ground, scattering the cuchillo a few metres away from him and even further away from Amy and Dean. Sam thought quickly about how to act siguiente whilst Amy flung Dean into the other side of the room and into a pile of wooden boxes, which ruptured and broke into several pieces on impact.
“Well,” dicho Dean, slowly getting up and brushing slices of wood from himself, “you must have had one messed up childhood to go round killing all these people as soon as tu had the freedom to.”
Amy smiled a smile that looked out of place on her features, ignoring Dean’s comment. Instead of approaching Dean to attack again in close range, she picked up the Colt, which had been thrown out of Dean’s hands when he had been tossed across the room, raised it to Dean’s level, and shot him in the shoulder.
Dean shouted in pain as the sickly, almost familiar feeling of a bullet wound tore through his left shoulder. He heard Sam yell, but he couldn’t think about his brother right now; cruel as it sounded, he had to concentrate on clotting the blood flow and keeping conscious. The pain was now spreading from his shoulder and through to the left side of his chest and upper arm, and Dean ripped off his outer camisa, camiseta with one hand and pressed it firmly against the wound. He’d live, he supposed. In a few minutos he reckoned that he could gather up the strength to get up and help Sammy. But until then, his little brother would have to deal with the perra on his own.
Sam had noticed where the bullet had hit Dean, and while he was furious with the demon who had done it, he knew that it wasn’t serious damage, and that Dean knew how to handle it up to a certain point. As Amy looked at Sam with black pools for eyes again and moved towards him, he knew he had to think of himself for now. He looked around frantically for the knife, which was a good few metres away from him, much nearer Amy than himself. He silently cursed in his head. What else did he have near him to defend himself with?
“It really pisses us off when hunters come and kill us off o send us back for no reason,” the demon said. “What makes tu any better than the killers and monsters tu hunt?”
“Well, for one, we don’t kill for pleasure, o without cause,” Sam spat, trying to stall for time. Crap, what could he use? He tried to hide his frantic looking around the room.
“I bet Dean wouldn’t have noticed Amy was possessed even if he managed to get into cama with her,” the demon continued. “Pathetic, really.”
Dean was too busy concentrating on his shoulder to hear these words, but he could almost feel Sam’s protective anger from across the room. He pushed firmly down on his wound with the cloth and tried to ignore the damp feeling seeping through the camisa, camiseta and between his fingers. He’d have to do something soon – he got the impression that this demon would be slightly angrier than the last one, giving they killed its partner.
The demon knelt down to Sam’s level and lifted him up por the neck with her hand, beginning to squeeze with cruel determination etched on Amy’s face. Sam started to choke as Amy’s fingers tightened their grip on his windpipe, and gasped for air desperately. He trailed his hands along the floor in a last attempt to find something, anything, to use to defend himself. Sam’s gasps became más frequent and painful as the demon wrapped her fingers tighter still, and his vision began to blur out of focus as she began to squeeze the life out of him. He tried shouting to his brother but nothing was willing to come out any more; it was painful just to breathe, let alone muster up the breath to speak o shout.
Sam heard the loud crack of the gunshot long before he saw it; the immediate relief and much needed air that flooded through him and his lungs was the first signal that the demon was no longer killing him. He gasped and coughed as he sat himself up just in time to see the demon fall to its knees, Dean visible a few metres behind, standing shakily with the potro, colt in one hand.
“Hands off my brother, bitch,” he snarled. Sam looked at him in slight puzzlement as he realised that his brother had dado the demon a return shoulder shot, and not killed it, but soon understood. Shooting this thing would mean Amy dying too, and Dean obviously wasn’t going to let that happen; he wanted to save as many people as he could. It was moments like this that showed the rare situations where emotions clouded his logic; it would have been much easier to kill the demon and the host. But Dean must have taken what he’d dicho only a few minutos earlier to heart, and for that, Sam was grateful. It was those moments in which he saw the brother he knew.
Amy fell to her knees and clutched her shoulder as the pain Dean had experienced a few segundos earlier now shot through her. Amy threw her head back and screamed as black smoke erupted from her mouth and flew swiftly and effortlessly from her to out the basement door. Sam pulled himself to his feet and jogged over to Amy as Dean sat down pulled up a chair nearby and sat down again, his eyes beginning to swim from standing too long. Sam lay an index finger softly on her neck and sighed in relief. Dean breathed out too.
“Hey, Amy, tu alright?”
She looked around confused, then felt the pain in her shoulder a división, split segundo later. She winced and clutched at it, but Sam had already put a small cloth over it and was pressing firmly.
“W-what the hell happened?”
“You got shot,” Sam said, “but you’re fine, don’t panic, just keep holding where I am, okay? Press as hard as tu can.”
She took over Sam’s hand and grasped fiercely at the cloth.
“No, I mean, what happened?”
This is the bit where Sam and Dean had to be careful. They had both realised fully that the demon possessing Amy may well have made up the fact she was a hunter, just to gain their trust. Amy might know nothing about the supernatural; then again, she might truly be a hunter. It was a hard line to walk.
Fortunately, Amy spoke up again before either Sam o Dean could construct an answer.
“Was I possessed? Because that was like some kind of seriously bad trip.”
Sam smirked to himself; she and Dean were más alike than he’d dado credit for.
“Yes,” replied Dean, figuring it was better to be honest now. So she was a hunter after all. The demon had just manipulated that information, not invented it. “But don’t worry, it bailed. After shooting me a little earlier on. Thanks for that, por the way,” he said, deliberately nurturing his injured shoulder.
“So what are we going to tell people?”
“Well,” Dean continued, his bravado returning in full mode, “I can take care of this myself,” he said, indicating to his shoulder. “I’ll dig the bullet out and Sammy can stitch it up.”
Amy looked at Sam, looking a little pale at the thought.
“What about me?”
Dean thought for a second, then Sam answered her first.
“I’ve got an idea.”