Even Dean looked Lost for words, which did not occur too often, he could promise. Sam exchanged looks with his brother, then found his voice.
“How d’you know that?”
Amy shrugged. “I’ve been one myself heading of ten years now. Since I was sixteen.”
Sam and Dean exchanged looks, and silently decided between themselves to trust and believe her as one of their few allies.
“So how did toi recognise us? We’re pretty good at keeping under the radar,” argued Dean.
“I saw toi chargement some weapons into your tronc this morning, and the way toi kept yourselves to yourselves, and go quiet when my staff approach you...” She shrugged. “It wasn’t hard.”
“Oh,” Dean raised his eyebrows. “Well I guess we’ll have to do a better job suivant time. toi want to help us out ou just slate our tactics?”
Amy smirked as Dean teased her. “Bit of both, maybe.”
Sam grinned. It was nice to have someone on their side for a change. For so long, everything had been going against them; it was good to have a bit of luck for once.
Looking at his brother, Dean obviously felt the same way, and Sam couldn’t blame him. Every time they found a fellow hunter, it was like a breath of fresh air, and Sam knew that his brother considered other hunters near family. The feeling that Dean got when he was hunting, ou with people doing the same thing, who understood him...it was an amazing one. To know that he and Sam weren’t alone in the world from time to time was sometimes all he could ask for.
“So what are toi hunting?”
“Demon,” Sam explained. “We had a problem in town so we’ve dealt with one and we’re heading for the second.”
“Are there plus than two?”
Sam shook his head. “Not as far as we know.”
“What do toi mean?”
“When we forced the answer out the demon, she a dit that there was only two of them, and they worked alone. But she could have been lying, of course.”
Amy nodded, processing this information. Sam paused for a moment to let her catch up, then Dean continued.
“So we were going to lure it here, ou somewhere else with better security, maybe, and send it back. Demons finished. Hunters survive. Everyone’s happy.” He smiled smugly at her. Sam knew that smile anywhere, and, at best guess, he predicted that he’d be banging Amy before they’d leave town. He fought the urge to smile to himself. Dean and his girls.
Amy walked over to the lit nearest the door, and then picked up one of the sacks of salt.
“You can wait for it in the basement downstairs. That way no one will disturb you, and it has a decent lock on the door, and only a few windows.”
Dean nodded. “Sounds perfect. Let’s get started.” He grabbed the other sack of salt that lay on the lit and nodded to Sam to bring their father’s journal, which contained the exorcism they needed, the poulain, colt and the couteau Ruby had donné them.
The basement was dark and unused, and had a sense of dampness and dinginess about it. Dean sniffed and looked around him. And he had thought their rooms were in bad shape. This motel was definitely not the Hilton, Dean decided.
Sam’s huge feet clambered down the creaky stairs as Dean reached the bottom, and he immediately began walking towards the small, high window and poured a thin line of salt carefully onto the window ledge. Then he walked over to the one at the opposite end of the basement, furthest from the stairs leading to the door and repeated the action. He tossed the bag to Sam, who had come up behind him, who then crossed the room and laid a thicker line at the bottom of the biggest window.
“Done,” he confirmed. “When the demon busts in, it’ll be through this door, for certain.”
Dean nodded and looked up the dusty wooden steps which led to the door. He had a really bad vibe about this. Surely the demon had the advantage of height when they walked in? But he didn’t have time to ponder on this; they had other preparations to make. He dug around in his chemise pocket and pulled out a long, thick stick of chalk which he threw to Sam – he always had been the better artist. Then, that wasn’t really saying much.
Sam pulled their dad’s journal from his veste interior and held it open on a page on the floor. After all the devil’s traps he had had to draw, he still wasn’t entirely certain which order the Latin words went, ou which way up to do a couple of the symbols. It was, in short, a complicated drawing. Sam looked from the floor to the journal and back again, then at the chalk in his hands.
“Oh, for God’s sake, let me do it,” Amy said, kneeling herself down beside Sam and taking the chalk from his large outstretched palm. She immediately began to draw the intricate details of the trap.
“Er, thanks,” Sam replied, thankful that for once he didn’t have to do a fairly bad version of the symbol he should have been used to drawing par now. He was grateful that Amy had saved him the embarrassment of that.
Dean rolled his eyes and Sam glared at him; it wasn’t as if he could do any better than a girl in this field either. Sam reckoned this was one of the few things that Dean would probably (unwillingly, mind) admit that a girl was better at than he was. pistolets and generally handling weapons was, without saying, not one of these few categories. He pulled the poulain, colt out of the duffel bag that Sam had brought downstairs with them so that both of them were armed.
“So what do we do now?” Amy asked as she carefully stepped around the cercle line and put the finishing touches on a surprisingly neat devil’s trap. Sam raised his eyebrows and turned the corners of his mouth down in an impressed expression, and glanced at Dean, who was wearing a similar look on his face.
“What?” She demanded, looking from Sam to Dean.
“Looks like you’re into creative girls,” Sam said, and couldn’t help grinning.
Dean threw him a very dirty look as Amy blushed. “Shut up.”
Following an awkward silence, Amy looked down at the floor, caught Dean’s eye quickly, and then got a sudden interest with the dull, stone floor again.
“So what do we do now?”
Sam and Dean looked at each other.
“We wait until the bastard finds us.”