Dean pushed me against the wall of the warehouse, the blade of his machete pressed against my throat.
"Am I supposed to be scared now, Winchester?" I asked, a cocky smile on your lips.
"I would be, if I were you, Amy." Dean said, pressing the blade a little harder against my throat.
"Go ahead, Winchester. End my life. You took everyone I've ever cared about, so why not take the last important thing I have?" I inquired, slumping slightly as the fight went out of me.
"Um….you aren't going to fight me? Are you a depressed vampire?" Dean asked, loosening his grip on the blade a bit. I nodded, at least, as much as I could with a blade against my throat. Dean pulled the blade away, and stepped back.
"I'm not going to kill you, Amy." Dean murmured, holding the machete by his side.
"Okay." I quietly said, moving towards him. Dean pointed the machete at me, and I halted.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Dean. I promise." I whispered, putting my hand over his. I took the machete out of his hand, and dropped it next to me. Dean warily watched me, wondering what I'm going to do next. I could tell that letting a vampire to get this close goes against every instinct he has. His breathing became quicker the closer I walked to him, until I could practically feel him begin to hyperventilate.
"Calm down, Dean. I'm not going to hurt you." I quietly said, stopping right in front of him. He watched me, eyes wide, as I brought a hand up to his cheek. I gently traced his cheekbone, reveling in how warm and alive he feels. All the decades I've spent only around my own kind, avoiding hunters and humans, drinking only animal blood-it felt wonderful to be able to touch someone living. It was something that I'd never admitted to myself that I'd missed, something I hadn't fully realized that I'd missed. I leaned forward, closing the space between us, and gently pressed my lips to his. Dean responded, seeming to have finally accepted that I mean him no harm. His hands came up and gripped my waist so tightly, that if I'd been human still, his fingers would've have left bruises. Not that I would've minded that. My fingers threaded through his short hair, and I practically trembled with how alive I felt. I continued to kiss Dean for a few more minutes, my fingers touching his shoulders, back, torso, wherever I could reach, until I became aware of the sound of footsteps and the scent of another hunter.
"Sam's coming, Dean." I whispered against his lips.
"So?" Dean whispered back.
"If he sees me, he'll kill me." I replied.
"Don't go, Amy." Dean murmured, as I pulled away.
"I have to, Dean. Thank you." I replied, gently squeezing his hand. I ran deeper into the warehouse, stopping only once to look back at Dean, who was standing stock still, his fingers against his lips, a bewildered expression on his face.
"Dean!" Sam Winchester shouted, running towards his brother.
"Are you okay, man? Did you get bitten?" Sam inquired, looking around warily.
"I'm fine, Sammy. There's nothing here-let's go." Dean said, breaking out of his stupor.
This memory of my second encounter-but certainly not last-with Dean Winchester flashed through my mind, as I stared down at the beautifully engraved headstone. "Dean Winchester. January 24th, 1979 to July 14th, 2020." I read out loud to myself.
"I miss you, Dean." I whispered, kneeling in front of his grave.