Amelia's in a mood to go out and drink some and dance some and generally enjoy herself with people. Sam isn't sold on the idea, but he comes with her.
"Hey there, Sam," says the bartender, a dark-haired woman whose name tag says 'Kate'.
"Do I know you?" asks Sam.
"We've met," Kate says. "Back in 2006. My family and yours had a minor dispute over the property of one Daniel Elkins."
Daniel's name startles Sam, but he shakes his head. "That was lifetimes ago. I don't remem—" and then, Amelia sees, he does. "Why don't we continue this conversation outside," he says.
His hand closes around Amelia's wrist; she looks up at him, and he's scared. She's never seen him scared of anything but emotional complications before. "What's going on?" she asks.
"I need you to stay calm and do as I say," Sam says, low.
"That won't save her, sweetheart," says Kate, just as quiet; she's out from behind the bar now, leading Sam—and Amelia, who doesn't try to fight Sam's hold—to the door.
Amelia glances around as they go, and a table of four gets up to follow them. Amelia tugs Sam's arm with her free hand, and nods in their direction when he looks down. He glances over and sighs. "Never tell me the odds," he mutters. He digs in his pocket and presses his keys into Amelia's hand. "Trunk, spare tire, big knife."
"Got it," says Amelia. She doesn't.
The door's barely closed behind the last of the four, a dark-haired woman smaller than Kate—a sister?—when Sam snaps into action, shoving Amelia towards the parked cars and trying to pummel all five people at once. Amelia runs for Sam's car, unlocks the trunk, opens the spare tire compartment, and holy mother of fuck that's a lot of weapons.
Amelia grabs the first big knife she sees, trying not to think about the difference between assault and assault with a deadly weapon, and turns, and Kate's sister's right there. The woman's strong—she breaks Amelia's wrist with ease, and Amelia can't help but drop the knife and scream. Try to scream—the woman clamps her hand over Amelia's mouth first.
"Winchester!" the woman calls, and Sam looks over. The woman forces Amelia to her knees, then—does something—what's happening with her teeth?—and sinks the—the fangs—into Amelia's throat.
"No!" Sam shouts. He's not fighting anymore.
What the fuck, Sam?
Amelia dives forward and feels the fangs detach, rolls, swears, shoves herself up with her good left hand and runs. There's sticks on the ground under the trees by the door, and why Sam isn't trying to get one when he's fighting vampires—
Kate's three male friends have a grip on Sam now, and Kate herself and her approaching sister are just watching. Amelia stakes Kate first.
Kate just laughs, the branch sticking out of her chest. "This isn't Buffy the Vampire Slayer," she says.
"Decapitation," says Sam.
"Shut up," Kate says "What's your name, little sister?" She pulls the stick out, covered in blood. Kate's sister grabs Amelia's arms, Kate grabs Amelia's face—"Don't!" shouts Sam—and Kate shoves the bloody end of the stick in Amelia's mouth.
Amelia has no idea what happens next. The lights are far too bright, the sounds far too loud, the smells—she can hear Sam's heart beating, can pick it out among the chaos of the heartbeats in the bar (and why isn't anyone coming to their rescue?), and she wants to taste that heartbeat. She can't think.
She wants to hurt Sam. She wants—what Kate wants, whatever that is. She wants the sound of heartbeats to go away. She craves the taste of something she's never tasted.
She bets it's blood.
Amelia is only half aware of the scenery changing: she follows Kate meekly to wherever the vampires want to do whatever it is they want to do with Sam—drink him dry, presumably.
That's—actually sounds kind of appealing.
What the fuck is wrong with her?
Other than the inability to talk with her fangs out. She practices getting them in and out while Kate drives Sam's car to wherever they're going, fascinated by that and by the closing wound on her neck, the knitting bones in her wrist.
"What's your name, little sister?" Kate asks again.
"Amelia," she says.
"Amelia," Kate repeats, and in the rear view mirror Amelia can see her smile. "Welcome to the family. That's Helen," she says, jerking her head sideways at her sister in the front seat. "Tom, Jeff, and Will are in the other car." With Sam. "Eddie, Lana, and Tess are at the nest. You'll meet them in a little bit."
Eight against Sam and Amelia. Or nine against Sam.
She loves Kate. But she loves Sam.
Amelia gets out of the car on Kate's side the moment Kate puts it in park. When Kate emerges, Amelia punches her and grabs the keys, then darts to the trunk for another knife.
It isn't Kate who she's fighting; it isn't Helen either. It's two people wearing their faces, two unfamiliar people, two heads rolling on the ground.
Five heads, when she's finished with Tom, Jeff, and Will. Eight after Eddie, Lana, and Tess join the party.
Amelia cuts Sam free of his ropes, looks over at Kate, and dissolves into tears.
"Please tell me you haven't tasted any human blood yet," says Sam. "Please. I can fix this, but it only works if you haven't had human blood."
"Not yet," says Amelia, choking back the sobs. "You smell good."
"Tasty, I bet," says Sam.
"Tasty," Amelia agrees. "Don't come near me."
"Better plan," says Sam. "I'll cuff you down, that way you can't get a taste of me or anyone else, and I'll mix up the cure. It tastes horrid, I understand," he warns, "and you're not gonna like the trip it'll take you on, but you won't be a vampire anymore afterwards."
"Do it," says Amelia. "Quick, before I change my mind."
Sam kisses her forehead and hurries to his car.