Author's Note: This one shot takes place prior to The Winchester Way, sometime between 8.02 What's Up, Tiger Mommy? and 8.04 Bitten.

That Time in Vale

Vale, Colorado

Sam was just hanging up his phone when Dean returned to their motel room. He didn't bother to mention who he'd been talking to and Dean didn't care enough to ask. He tossed the bag of burgers to the table and gave his brother a fleeting glance. He dropped to the bed, leaning back against the pillows he had stacked there earlier. He closed his eyes.

It was quiet for a while, just the occasional sound of Sam typing on his laptop and traffic flying by on the street outside. Dean was still trying to figure out how they were going to get into the house and get out with the cursed bust without tripping the security system when Sam cleared his throat. He opened his eyes and looked at the younger Winchester.

"I called Amie," Sam said, almost too quiet to hear.

"You what?" Dean grumbled, pulling himself to a sitting position.

"I called Amie," he repeated. "She's on her way. She was close and she said she could be here in a couple of hours."

"I told you not to call her," Dean barked. "I told you to call Garth and find out who's around."

"I know you said not to call her. And I did call Garth and he said she's it, we don't have another choice," Sam sighed, exasperated with his brother as usual. "You need a fake wife and she's the only female hunter close enough to get here in time."

"Maybe I could just say my wife is out of town," Dean suggested. "Go to that party alone."

"Look, you're the one that said you were married, Dean. And that she'd be here for the party." his brother reminded him. "So you need a wife and it might as well be a hunter. A good hunter."

Dean rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, I thought that we'd be out of here before the stupid party even happened. But Amie? Really?"

"Yeah, Amie!" Sam yelled. "And just as an FYI, she thinks you're on board with this, so try not to be a dick when she gets here."

"But, I don't…" Dean tried to defend himself but Sam cut him off.

"What is your problem, Dean?" he asked. "Why do you have such a hard time with her? Why don't you like her?"

Rather than answer Sam's question, he shot a glare at him and pushed himself off the bed. "There's a bar across the street, I'm gonna grab a drink," he said. "Call me when she gets here." He slammed the door on his way out.

He ordered a whiskey and had the bartender leave the bottle. It was going to take a lot of alcohol for him to work with Amie. And contrary to what Sam believed, it wasn't because he disliked her, it was the exact opposite. He liked her too much, more than he'd liked anyone since Lisa. The first time he'd met her, he'd been inexplicably drawn to her. They'd spent less than fifteen minutes together and the thought of her had stayed with him so much that he'd thought about her a lot when he was in Purgatory. Then after he'd returned from Purgatory, she'd helped them get Kevin's mom away from the demons guarding her, quite efficiently, too. Afterward, she'd promptly disappeared. Except for her frequent appearances in his dreams.

So, basically, his problem with Amie was that he wasn't sure he could be around her without letting his growing feelings for her show. He was going to have to lock down his emotions in a way he never had before. There was no way he was going to let her, or his brother for that matter, know how he felt.

Dean was halfway through the bottle of whiskey when Sam sent him a text. "She's here," it read.

He downed the glass he had, poured another and drank it just as quickly. He asked for a beer to go. Once the bartender set it in front of him, he dropped some cash on the bar and left. As he crossed the street back to the motel, he saw Amie's little blue Mini Cooper parked next to the Impala. God, he hated her car. Stupid piece of foreign crap. He grabbed the door handle to their room and steeled his shoulders. Alright, he could do this. He pushed open the door.

Amie was sitting on his bed, her back propped against his pillows. She was laughing at something Sam had said and it rang through the room like a chorus of bells. She looked amazing; her long, red hair was loose and flowing around her shoulders and her clothes fit like a glove, accenting every curve on her body. Curves he wouldn't mind getting a look at without clothes covering them. Dean took a deep breath and stared at the ceiling. He couldn't think about her like that or this was going to be the longest case of his life.

"Well, look who it is," he tried to growl grumpily. "The world's most fashionable hunter." He was always harassing her about her clothes, in particular the wide variety of high heels she wore. The high heels he found unbelievably sexy.

Amie stuck her tongue out at him. "Hello to you too, Dean," she sighed. "How've you been?"

"Peachy," he mumbled as he threw himself into one of the chairs at the motel table. "You're looking as sexy as always," he told her, hoping that it looked like he was leering at her. He must have pulled it off, because Sam glared at him, but he ignored it. God help him though, she really did look absolutely amazing. She was wearing a long skirt, tank top and a denim jacket. She'd pulled her skirt up to sit down and he could see her toned milky white calves. He was trying not to stare and failing miserably.

"She's all set for tomorrow," Sam explained. "I gave her our cover story, filled her in on her part. She's good to go."

"Ready to be Mrs. Dean Winchester?" Dean smirked.

Amie rolled her eyes. "Maybe you could be Mr. Amie Williams," she shot back.

Dean laughed low in the back of his throat. "Oh trust me honey," he chuckled. "You'd be thrilled to be married to this. If you'd like I could give you a demonstration later tonight." He dropped a lewd wink in her direction.

She stood up and grabbed her car keys off of the bedside table. If he had to hazard a guess, he'd have to say he'd already pissed her off. That was a new record. He could have sworn he heard her mutter 'some things never change' under her breath. "I've got a room on the other side of the building," she said to Sam. "Call me if you need me."

Sam jumped up to open the door for her. She hugged him as she walked past.

"It's good to see you, Sam," she said, pointedly not looking at Dean.

Dean felt a twinge of jealousy as his brother wrapped his huge arms around Amie and pulled her against him. "You too," he nodded as he released her and closed the door behind her.

Sam turned and immediately gave Dean one of his best bitch faces. "Jesus, Dean, why do you have to be such a dick?" he grumbled.

"You wouldn't understand," Dean replied, rising from his seat at the small table. Sam shot him another look as he crossed the room to the bathroom and slammed the door in his brother's face.

He took a drink of his beer, as he moved to lie on the bed. He grabbed his pillows and pulled them under his head. He took a deep breath. They smelled like Amie. He exhaled slowly, then breathed in her scent again. This was going to be a long weekend.

Dean knocked on Amie's motel room door a few minutes before six on Saturday night. He pulled at the collar of his dress shirt. He wasn't used to wearing it when it wasn't part of his fed suit. He rolled the shirt sleeves up to just below his elbows while he waited for her to open her door. Once he had the sleeves the way he wanted them, he knocked again, harder this time.

The door flew open, Amie muttering "Sorry, sorry," as she struggled to get her shoe on, hopping on one leg. Dean's breath caught in his throat as he took her in. She was wearing a sheer blue top with a lighter blue tank top under it. The top clung in all the right places and Jesus Christ if it didn't make her blue eyes bluer. She had on a pair of well-worn jeans, pearl earrings and her hair was pulled away from her face in a loose ponytail. She was currently struggling to put on a pair of flowery heeled shoes. Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed her waist to steady her as she put on her shoe.

"Thanks," she breathed. "Water went out and I had to rush to get ready. Sorry."

"No problem," he smiled. "You look great." He squeezed her waist without even thinking about it. When he saw her grimace, he let go. "Sorry," he mumbled quietly.

Amie pulled her door closed and stuck her room key in her front pocket. She followed Dean down the sidewalk and let him open the passenger door of the Impala for her.

"We're taking the Impala?" she asked.

"Of course we are," Dean scoffed. "What else would we take?"

Amie laughed and put her hands up. "Okay, okay," she said. "Where's Sam?"

"He's got a rental and he'll be parked right up the street from the house," he explained.

"Gotcha," she said. She was quiet for the remainder of the trip to the large house where the cursed bust was being kept.

It wasn't long before Dean was driving through the gates surrounding the estate where the party was being held. He swung Baby into a parking space at the end of the driveway, not trusting the valets by the front door to drive his car. He and Amie met by the trunk.

Dean dug in the front pocket of his jeans until he found what he was looking for, two gold rings, one embedded with several small diamonds. He held them out.

"What are those?" Amie asked suspiciously.

He rolled his eyes. "What do they look like?"

"They look like wedding rings," she replied.

"Gotta play the part," Dean laughed. "I picked them up at a pawn shop. Can't be fake married without fake rings."

For a second, Dean thought he saw something in Amie's eyes, like she might actually be pleased at the idea. But it was gone as quickly as it had come and then her face went completely neutral. She took the smaller of the two rings and slid it on her left ring finger. She had to push to get it past the knuckle, but it seemed to fit pretty well. He put on the other ring. He was pleasantly surprised that he actually kind of liked the feel of it on his finger, especially knowing that the matching one was on Amie's hand.

"Ready?" he asked.

She nodded, but she looked extremely nervous. When they got close to the front door, Dean reached out and took her hand. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Married, remember?" Dean said.

Amie smiled at him and shook out her shoulders, rolling her head on her neck like she was trying to loosen up. "Right, married," she whispered as if she was reminding herself, moving closer to Dean as they walked.

He took advantage of the move to slide his arm around her waist. Of course, she fit perfectly against his side. He was surprised when she didn't protest. He suppressed a contented sigh.

They were ushered inside by a fussy man wearing the customary white dress shirt and black pants combination of hired help. He led them into a large room dominated by a wall of glass on one side and a huge staircase on the other. Dean saw the couple that was throwing the party making their way across the room to greet them.

"Showtime," he whispered in Amie's ear.

"Dean, you made it!" the house's owner, Jeff Parsons, smiled as he shook Dean's hand.

"I did," he replied, smiling back. "This is my wife, Amie," he squeezed her waist as he spoke. "Honey, this is Jeff and Alice Parsons."

Amie shook hands with both the Parsons, smiling and commenting about what a lovely home they had, and telling some incredibly good lies about married life with Dean. Jeff offered to get them drinks, gesturing to a waiter. Dean ordered two beers. They made small talk with the homeowners for a few more minutes until they wandered off to greet more guests. Dean turned to Amie.

"You make a great wife, baby," he whispered conspiratorially. "Very impressive."

"I've had practice," she replied, catching him off guard.

"What?" he mumbled, but Amie was walking away, toward a punchbowl on a table next to the bank of windows.

Did she just admit to being married? He'd never seen a ring on her finger and she'd never talked about a husband. She was very secretive about her past, avoiding any and all discussion about her life prior to meeting the Winchesters. He hurried across the room to join her, hopeful that he when he was able to get her alone for a few minutes, he could ask her some of the million questions running through his head.

She'd struck up a conversation with an older couple standing by the table. She was questioning them about the house, asking them if they knew much about it and they in turn were regaling her with stories of strange happenings. He sidled up behind her and slipped his arm around her waist, peering over her shoulder at the couple. Amie shifted slightly and he had the feeling she was trying to move away from him. Yeah, well, he was going to take full advantage of them pretending to be a married couple. He slid his other arm around her and pulled her tight against his chest. She took a sip of her beer and shot him an evil look over her shoulder.

"Really, this house is haunted. You're joking, right?" he said. This prompted another stream of stories from the couple, stories he already knew about thanks to Sam's thorough research. But he let them talk, trying to look interested, even though his mind was drifting. He was thoroughly enjoying the feel of Amie leaning against his chest, her hair brushing against his cheek. She smelled fantastic and all he wanted to do was bury his nose in her hair and breathe her in. Then he'd kiss her, starting where her neck and shoulder met before moving up to her jaw and finally settling on her lips.

The couple excused themselves to mingle, dragging Dean from the fantasy he had running through his head. Amie turned to face him, still encased in his arms. She looked irritated, her teeth clenched in a false smile.

"You can let go now," she muttered through her teeth.

Dean chuckled. "Nope, not yet. I think we should go upstairs."

Amie tried to glare at him, but it came across as more of a fear-filled grimace. Shit. That was definitely not what they were going for.

"Relax," he said, his thumb rubbing circles on her waist. "We'll wander up there to look for the bust. If anybody comes along, we can make it look like we went up there to do other stuff." He winked at her and raised his eyebrows suggestively. He let go of her waist, but he took her hand and pulled her behind him up the stairs. He glanced back at Amie and now she just looked irritated.

"Try to look like you're enjoying yourself," he ordered. "The pained expression isn't cutting it." She managed to put a somewhat believable smile on her face.

Once they reached the top of the stairs, Dean reluctantly dropped Amie's hand. He would have preferred to hold on to it, take her into one of the bedrooms and do exactly what they were pretending to be doing up here. He hurried down the hall, trying to keep himself focused on the job. Without him having to ask her to, Amie kept watch at the top of the stairs as he opened doors. Finally, when he got to the fifth door down, he spotted the bust enclosed in a plexiglass display case by the wall. He leaned back out the door.

"Bingo!" he whispered as loud as possible.

Without waiting for an answer from her, he stepped into the room. He needed to check the security tags on the windows. He and Sam weren't familiar with the system used in this house, which was why they'd needed to get in and get a look at it before they tried to slip in the next day and take the bust. He stopped at the display case and was upset to find that the case was also alarmed.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath. He'd come back to that, he needed to check the windows, see if he could break the contacts on the alarms. He slid to his knees, pulling the slips of paper he needed from his pocket and hurriedly sliding them into place.

"Dean?" Amie whispered from behind him. "Dean, come on!"

"Hold on!" he growled at her.

He stood up and moved to the bust's display case. He heard the door to the room close and the next thing he knew, Amie was grabbing his arm and swinging him around. Startled, he allowed her to shove him backwards until he fell into a chair in the corner of the room. She straddled him, grabbed his hands and put them on her thighs and before he knew what was happening, she was unbuttoning the buttons on his dress shirt and then by some miracle of God, her lips were on his and her tongue was in his mouth, and holy shit, but she tasted amazing.

He heard the door open behind them, but at that moment, Amie let out a breathy moan that traveled directly to his groin. Dean grabbed the back of her head and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. He prayed that sound wasn't just for show and damn it if he didn't want to hear it again. He moved his hand further up her thigh and grabbed her waist with his other hand as she pressed herself harder against him. Everything narrowed to just him and Amie, her legs on either side of his waist, her hands on his chest and his hands on her leg and her waist. He wanted – no needed – more from her. He slid his hands down and cupped her bottom with both hands and pulled her against him, a jolt of pleasure running through him as she rubbed against his burgeoning erection. Amie moaned again, louder this time, and all Dean could think about was how he could get her out of her clothes.

They were interrupted by the sound of a clearing throat coming from someone standing in the doorway. Amie sat up and looked over her shoulder. One of the wait staff stood awkwardly at the door, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else but standing in the doorway watching some couple make out.

"I'm sorry, ma'am…um, you really shouldn't be up here," he said, looking anywhere but at Dean and Amie.

Amie stood up, easily sliding out of Dean's grasp. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, trying to think of the most mundane, boring, non-sexy things he could think of while Amie walked over to talk to the guy at the door. Whatever she said must have appeased him, because he held up his hand and said 'five minutes' before turning and leaving the room.

She turned back to Dean and all he could do was stare at her pink lips, still swollen from kissing him. Before she could say anything, he was up and across the room, pulling her into his arms and crushing his lips to hers. She kissed him back, her hands laced behind his neck. He pulled away far sooner than he wanted to and rested his forehead against hers.

"This isn't over," he whispered, taking her hand and pulling her after him down the stairs. They needed to get back before someone else came looking.

They played nice at the party for another hour, even managing to get a look at the main security keypad in a room just off the kitchen before they made their excuses to leave. Dean felt it was safe to assume that the waiter hadn't ratted them out, because the Parsons seemed genuinely disappointed to see them go. They followed them out to the Impala and Dean had to listen to Jeff ooh and ah over Baby for another ten minutes while Amie made small take with Alice. He was relieved when he convinced the couple that it was time for them to go.

The trip back to the motel was awkwardly quiet. Amie stared out the window, a pinched look on her face. He knew she wanted to say something and it wasn't long before she did.

"Look, Dean," Amie said. "I wanted to talk to you about what happened…"

She was interrupted by his cell phone ringing. He smirked at her as he pulled it from his pocket, wiggling it at her.

"Hiya, Sammy," he answered, extremely relieved that he'd been rescued from that discussion.

Dean spent the next few minutes on the phone with his brother, filling him in on what had happened, being careful to leave out the make-out session he and Amie had engaged in. Sam was going to dump the rental car then meet him back at the motel in half an hour.

He parked the Impala in front of the motel just as he ended his conversation with Sam. Amie was out of the car before he could turn it off. He hurried after her, pushing into her motel room behind her.

"Where are you going?" he inquired as he closed the door. "I thought you wanted to talk about what happened."

"And I thought you hated talking," she mumbled. She kicked off her shoes and pulled her ponytail out.

"Who said I wanted to talk?" he growled, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her against him. He kissed her, very slowly and carefully. She didn't pull away, so he threaded his fingers through her hair and pulled her head back to kiss under her jaw. Amie shivered in his arms. She stepped closer to Dean and tentatively slid her arms around his waist. Seeing that as a positive sign, he returned his attentions to her lips, his nose brushing against hers as his tongue slipped out and licked her. To his surprise, she parted her lips and let him in, sinking into him as they kissed.

Dean groaned, the heat of their kiss charging through him, exciting him all over again. He held her close as the passion intensified; his hands were everywhere, trying to touch every part of her at once. Amie fumbled at the buttons on his shirt, managing to unbutton them and push off his dress shirt, leaving him in the white t-shirt he always wore under his fed clothes.

He needed to be closer to her, so he picked her up, her legs immediately going around his waist. He turned and held her against the wall, one arm around her waist, the other twisted in her hair, holding her tight against his lips. He did not want to break this connection, not when he'd been fantasizing about this for so long. He had to force himself to go slow, to be gentle, because what he really wanted was to rip her clothes off and take her right here against the wall. Amie seemed as eager as he was, shoving her hands under his t-shirt and kissing him with a desperate need, breathy whimpers falling from her lips. He groaned, the throbbing in his jeans inching toward uncomfortable as he held Amie against the wall. He wanted more, needed more from her, he wanted her out of her clothes, he wanted to feel her skin against his, and he wanted to hear her moaning his name.

It was like she'd heard his thoughts, because she chose that moment to say his name, long and drawn out on a single breath. He groaned as he turned and stumbled toward the bed, lying Amie down carefully. He pulled her shirt off, leaving her in just her tank top. He gently took her breast in his hand as he continued kissing her, carefully massaging it as he teased the nipple through the cloth with his thumb. He could barely suppress his moan of satisfaction when Amie arched her back and pulled him closer, her kisses nearly frantic with desire.

He moved his attentions to her neck, sucking gently on the spot between her neck and collarbone. "God, I've wanted this for so long," he murmured as he pulled away to look at her.

Just as he moved to resume kissing her, she stiffened and put her hands against his chest, pushing him away.

"Stop, Dean," she said breathlessly. "Stop."

Dean immediately stood up and moved away from her. She sat up and crossed her arms over her chest, gripping her elbows tightly. Her hair fell over her face and she refused to look at him as she spoke.

"I'm sorry, Dean," she stammered. "I can't do this, not now." She finally looked up at him and he could have sworn she had tears in her eyes. "I want to, Jesus, do I want to, but…I...I just can't. Not now."

He rubbed a hand over the nape of his neck, disappointment flooding him. "Okay," he said slowly.

"Please try to understand," she begged. "It's…well, I have my reasons."

"No, I got it," he said. "Look, I'll just go." He turned to leave, but Amie stopped him with a hand to his elbow. She put a hand to his cheek, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed the corner of his mouth. A gentle, mind blowing kiss that was better than any kiss they'd previously shared.

She rested her head against his chest, her hair tickling his chin. "I'm sorry, but I need more than you are willing to give me."

It hurt to hear her say that, to actually know for sure that she had no idea how he really felt about her. He almost told her, right then and there, he almost told her how he really felt, how he didn't want her to be some casual fling, how he was willing to give her more and that it might not just be her that wanted more from him, but that he might want that same thing from her. But he couldn't. It wasn't the way Dean Winchester was wired, how he worked. He preferred to lock down his emotions and keep everyone out, no matter the cost. So he sucked it up, hugged her close, and kissed the side of her head.

"I'll see you in the morning," he mumbled as he grabbed his shirt and opened the door. "Get some sleep. We need you on your toes for tomorrow."

Dean stepped out of her room and closed the door. He leaned against it, his heart pounding. It struck him that he might have just walked out on the best thing to happen to him since Lisa. He almost turned around and knocked on the door, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. The people he cared about always ended up hurt – Jo, Lisa, Ben, his parents, even Sam – and he did not want to add Amie to that list. He tried to shake off the undeniable feeling of loss that came over him, but he couldn't. It ended up staying with him all night.

He woke up early, before Sam, which rarely happened. He wasn't surprised, seeing as he'd barely slept the night before. He dressed quietly, then slipped out the door. There was a coffee shop around the corner. He would walk down there, grab coffee for all three of them, and then try to act like everything was fine as they finished this job. Then he and Sam were going to head in the opposite direction of Amie, get some distance so he could think, so he could figure out how the hell this woman had managed to get under his skin the way she had. He also wanted to give his brother an earful about bringing her in on this case, or any case in the immediate future for that matter.

The walk to and from the coffee shop did Dean some good. It gave him a chance to put his game face on, to get himself ready to see Amie and hopefully ready to act like he just didn't care. She already assumed he didn't, no sense in setting her straight. It was safer for her that way.

He came around the corner of the building, fully expecting to see the little blue European piece of crap Amie drove parked in front of her room. But it wasn't there. He pounded on her door, even though he knew it was pointless. She was gone. He went by the office and spoke to the night shift clerk who was just going off duty. As he'd suspected, she'd left in the middle of the night, saying only that she had been called away due to a family emergency.

"Hey, are you Dean?" the clerk asked just as he was about to walk away.

When he said that he was, the clerk went behind the counter, finally pulling out an envelope and sliding it across the counter.

"She asked me to give you that," he said.

He nodded his thanks and continued to his room, opening the envelope as he walked. Inside was the small, diamond-embedded gold wedding band. He held it in his hand and stared at it before tucking it in his front pocket.

When Dean opened the door, Sam was sitting on his bed, hair all awry and eyes barely open. He didn't say anything to the elder Winchester, just tossed his phone to him. Dean caught it with one hand and looked at the screen. There was a message from Amie.

"Tell Dean I'm sorry," it read.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam asked as he climbed out of his bed.

"Damned if I know," Dean replied. "Probably feels bad that she left before the job was over." He shrugged and set the coffee down on the table as he dropped into one of the adjacent chairs. "Oh well, good riddance, I say," he lied. "You know she drives me nuts."

Sam paused as he pulled his jeans on. He looked at his brother, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Yeah, right," he laughed as he sat at the table across from Dean. "Don't lie to me, dude."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he mumbled as he pushed one of the coffees toward his brother.

"Bullshit," Sam argued. "You came in here last night, late, shirt unbuttoned, hair messed up and you looked pissed. You refused to talk to me and when I mentioned Amie's name, you looked like someone punched you. Then you're up before me this morning, out the door buying coffee…" He stopped talking and picked up the third cup of coffee, popped the lid off and took a sip. "…just like she likes it. Then you wander in here with a bummed look on your face and you're not even remotely surprised that she's gone." He took a sip of his coffee. "What happened?"

Dean stared at the younger Winchester, hoping Sam would just let it drop. But he could tell that his brother wasn't going to, not this time. He sighed dramatically. "I like her," he finally admitted.

"No shit," Sam grumbled.

"It's no big deal," Dean said. "Wrong place, wrong time, stars aren't aligned, whatever. I'll get over it."

Sam took a couple more swallows of his coffee, then he stood up and crossed the room, stopping at the bathroom door to look back at Dean. "You're not fooling me, you know that right? I know exactly how you feel about her. She's a big deal." He shut the door without waiting for a response from the older Winchester.

Dean just stared after his brother. Guess he wasn't as good as hiding his feelings as he thought.

"Well, shit," he mumbled.