Chapter Two
Dean filled his glass from the bottle of whiskey sitting on the bedside table. Nothing like a little hunter's helper to aid in the quest for knowledge. Or maybe it was aiding him in his quest to pass out before he started thinking about things he didn't want to think about again. He downed the glass in two swallows just as he heard a knock at his door. He set his laptop on the floor and the glass next to it.
"Yeah," he yelled as he tucked the bottle into the bottom drawer of the nightstand. No need for anybody to worry about his excessive drinking. What they didn't know wouldn't hurt them.
Sam stuck his head in the door, but didn't come in all the way. "You got a minute?" he asked.
Dean nodded at his brother. "I guess, what's up?"
Sam stepped into the room, set his laptop on the table, swung a chair around and sat down. "I was doing some research, trying to see if anything had come up recently that we might find useful. I found a news story out of Indianapolis—five dead bodies, either almost drained or completely drained of blood. The people had been reported missing in the days prior to being found dead."
"Sounds like either a vampire or maybe vetala," Dean mumbled. He didn't understand why Sam was telling him about this, they had more pressing matters to concern themselves with, like Abaddon.
Sam opened his laptop to show a video cued up, full screen. "I thought you might want to see this." He pressed play.
Dean moved to a chair right in front of the computer, next to Sam, even though he still didn't understand why Sam wanted him to see this particular video. The story started with a news anchor in the studio speaking to one of those on-site reporters. Behind him was a large wooded area surrounded by crime scene tape. Dean could see a group of people standing at the bottom of a slight incline next to what was most likely a body under a tarp. He could hear the reporter yammering on and on, but he chose to ignore it, instead focusing on what he could see on the screen. Two people, a man and a woman, broke from the group and walked toward the body; the man crouched down and pulled back the tarp and looked questioningly at the woman. Dean squinted at the screen; there was something familiar there, he just couldn't put his finger on it. Dean saw the woman nod, then the man, most likely a detective, stood up and shook her hand as he said something to her. The camera operator had zoomed in slightly on the two of them, allowing Dean to catch a glimpse of the body now lying uncovered on the ground, though he wasn't able to see much. He saw the older man gesture away from him as a uniformed officer stepped into the camera's sight line. When the officer moved, Dean saw that the woman had turned to face the camera. It was Amie.
His breath caught in his throat as his eyes drank her in. She was a little thinner than he was used to and it looked like she had cut a few inches off of her long red hair. She was wearing a pair of cuffed jeans, black converse and a black leather jacket, unzipped. He could see a black and white plaid shirt under the jacket. She had a pained, almost pinched expression on her face, probably because of what she had just seen. Regardless, Dean thought she looked gorgeous. Her bright blue eyes were shifting constantly and he knew she was taking in her surroundings, assessing everything happening around her. She followed the uniformed officer back to his patrol car, not saying anything. As she was opening the door to the car, she put on a pair of sunglasses that had been propped on her head. When the jacket sleeve pulled up as she reached to grab them, Dean noticed a two-inch tattoo on the inside of her right wrist, though he couldn't make out exactly what it was. The camera chose that moment to cut away from her and focus on the on-site reporter, who began reiterating the information that had already been mentioned.
Sam reached over and hit the space bar, pausing the video. Dean sat staring at the screen, not able to put into words what he was thinking and feeling. It had been five months since he had seen Amie and every second of those five months had been pure hell. He missed her so much that it had become a physical pain, a constant dull ache in his chest, an ache he tried to kill with alcohol and hunting. She had left him after the death of their daughter, believing that it was the best thing she could do for the two of them. She couldn't accept Dean's need for revenge, claiming she couldn't sit back and watch him kill himself. So Dean had not only lost his daughter, but the woman he loved. It was a blow he had been unable to recover from. Seeing her for the first time in those long months felt like taking a sip of water after being lost in the desert.
He cleared his throat. "When did this video get posted?" he asked his brother.
"A couple of hours ago," Sam immediately replied. "The station is out of Indianapolis, but the video was shot on the outskirts of Warren, Indiana. There's less than 1300 people there. Guy who died is named Jerry Wallace, worked part-time at a local bar called Nate's. There is no mention of Amie in the story, just "an unknown woman" that came to identify the body in lieu of the family. I couldn't find anything about her anywhere."
"Of course not," Dean mumbled. "She doesn't want to be found. I've been looking for her for months with no leads. She knows how to disappear. You can bet she won't be happy about the news story. She'll probably take off again, go somewhere else." He stared off into space, his thoughts jumbled and incoherent as he tried to think.
"What do you want to do?" Sam asked.
"I don't know," Dean replied. "I need to think." He ran a hand through his hair and over his face. What he really wanted to do was go directly to this town in Indiana and pound on every door until he found her. But he knew he wouldn't. He needed to approach this carefully, not impulsively, or Amie might slip through his fingers again, just like she had in Pennsylvania after she'd picked up her car. He had to be smart about this. "Will you send me that link?" he asked.
Sam turned his laptop around and emailed Dean the link to the video. Once he'd finished, he stood up and moved to the door. "Let me know what you decide," he told his older brother as he left the room.
Dean waited until Sam had pulled the door closed before picking his laptop up off of the floor. He grabbed his glass and pulled the whiskey bottle from the drawer, then settled himself on the bed. He opened his email and clicked on the link to the video. He let it load completely before fast forwarding to the part with Amie. Once she came on the screen, he watched every move she made. He was surprised he hadn't realized it was her sooner the first time he watched the video. Every movement was familiar to him—the way she walked, the subtle tilt of her hips as she stood with most of her weight on her right leg, the way she bounced on her toes when she was getting frustrated or impatient, how her left foot tapped minutely as she stood examining the body, the swing of her arms, even the way she flipped her hair off of her shoulder. He could tell she wasn't carrying any weapons because he didn't see the familiar bulge under her jacket anywhere and since she was wearing converse, she didn't have a weapon tucked into one of her boots where she normally kept them. The thought of her walking around unarmed and vulnerable made Dean cringe.
He paused the video and opened a new tab, googling the name of the bar the dead guy had worked at. It was smack ass in the middle of Warren, Indiana, right on the main street. It had a web site, but it didn't give much information other than the hours of operation and a brief background on the owner, Nathan Curtis. There were a few pictures of the interior of the bar and one of the exterior, none of which included any patrons or staff. Dean opened the pictures up in separate tabs so he could take a better look at them. The interior shots showed a simple every man's establishment—a square-shaped bar dominated the center of the room, surrounded by booths against two walls and a few tables. A big screen television hung above one end of the bar, with pool tables and dart boards taking up the remainder of the space. He saw a kitchen in the back of the room through a rectangular window behind the bar, along with a swinging door to the left of the window. Nothing in that picture was useful. The picture of the exterior showed that the bar was situated on a corner, with a tiny parking lot attached to it. It was on the bottom story of a two-story building. Dean could not tell what was on the second story. The front of the building was dominated by a huge window with the words "Nate's Bar" on it.
Dean was about to close the picture of the outside of the bar when a flash of blue in the parking lot caught his eye. A very familiar blue, one he was sure he had seen before. He manipulated the picture until he could get a better look at it. He was pretty damn sure it was the same color blue as Amie's Mini Cooper. And that certainly looked like the back of her little German import.
He grabbed his cell phone and dialed the number from the web site for Nate's Bar. On the third ring, the voice he'd longed to hear for the last five months answered, the simple "Nate's Bar, can I help you?" like music to his ear. He had to stop the 'Hey baby' from leaving his mouth because he knew if he talked, Amie would run. She'd been hiding from him for five months and if she found out he knew where she was, she'd go so deep he'd never find her. So instead of saying all the things he wanted to say to her, he hung up the phone.
He poured another drink, downed it quickly, and then went in search of Sam. He found him in his room with Shannon, a movie playing quietly on the television while the two bookworms sat with books on their laps reading. He poked his head in the door and knocked on the jamb.
"Hey," he said when they both looked up. "Pack your shit, we're going to Indiana in the morning."
Dean wasn't surprised that Sam's girlfriend, Shannon, had insisted on coming with them, but he was surprised when Sam agreed. He was just as protective of her as Dean had been with Amie. But ever since Sam had saved her from the demon possessing her, she couldn't stand to be away from him. So he'd walked around with a very pained and slightly pissed expression on his face for a half an hour before they left, while Shannon had bounced around with more enthusiasm than was necessary. Dean had walked away, shaking his head and laughing. Now, four hours into the twelve hour trip, he was wishing Sam had told her no. She'd been talking and asking questions non-stop for most of those four hours.
"Hey princess," Dean mumbled, watching Shannon in the rearview mirror. "How about a break from all the questions?"
"Dean!" Sam interjected. "Leave her alone." Despite his protest, he seemed almost relieved that Dean had said something.
Shannon giggled. "It's okay, Sam. I have been talking a lot." She leaned back in the seat. "I'm just really excited to be able to go on a hunt. But I'll stop, give you a break."
Sam turned and smiled at Shannon over his shoulder, then turned to his brother. "What exactly is your plan, Dean? Are you just going to stroll into the bar, throw Amie over your shoulder and force her to go back to the bunker with us?"
"I'm not going to take her anywhere, Sam. I just want to talk to her," he replied. He glanced in the rearview mirror at Shannon, but she had put on her headphones and was staring out the window. "I miss her, Sammy. A lot," he whispered. "I just need to see her, talk to her for a minute. Hear her voice, you know?"
"Yeah," Sam said. He glanced at Shannon over his shoulder. "I don't know how you've kept it together this long. I'd be going crazy."
Dean shrugged and shook his head. "I am going crazy. And I'm not keeping it together. Trust me." He reached over and turned up the radio, hoping it would discourage anymore talking. The thing was, he didn't know what he was going to do when he saw Amie. He would figure it out when they got to Indiana.
The remainder of the drive was quiet and uneventful. They stopped for lunch at a Biggerson's and then again later at a Gas-n-Sip to fill up. Dean was quiet; he just sat back and watched the interactions between Sam and Shannon or the scenery flash by. Neither of them gave him a difficult time or tried to get him to talk, for which he was very grateful.
They pulled into Warren around 8 p.m. Dean drove directly to Nate's Bar, which was apparently quite the place to be; the parking lot was full, as was every spot in front of the bar. He pulled around the corner and parked on a side street. Sam and Shannon climbed out of the car, but Dean hesitated for a few minutes. Maybe he had been too impulsive, coming here, thinking that seeing Amie or even talking to her would be a good idea. Maybe it would be better if they just stayed apart, despite the fact that he needed to be with her like he needed air to breathe.
"Dean, you coming?" Sam leaned into the car and asked.
He glanced out the door at his brother, then nodded. "Yeah, let's do this," he muttered, climbing from the car and slamming the Impala's door. He followed Sam and Shannon up the sidewalk, hanging back a few steps. He could hear music coming from the open bar door as they came around the corner. Dean glanced in the window, but he didn't see Amie. There was some guy behind the bar, maybe Nate, and an older woman waiting tables. Every seat at the bar was taken as were all of the tables, but a couple of the booths were empty, including one in the back corner.
Dean stepped through the open door and hurried to the farthest booth in the corner. He slid into the seat facing the rest of the bar while Sam and Shannon sat on the other side. Sam started whispering something in Shannon's ear while Dean scanned the bar, trying, but failing, to catch a glimpse of Amie.
The older woman, Deb according to her nametag, stopped in front of their table. "Evening folks, what can I get you?" she asked.
Dean looked up at her, using his best smile. "Evening ma'am. Could we get three beers? And do you serve food?"
Deb couldn't help but smile back. "Burgers, fries, the usual. I'll bring menus back with your drinks. Anything else, handsome?" she asked, winking at Dean.
"That's it for now, thanks," he laughed, shaking his head.
Shannon giggled as Deb walked away. "I swear to God you could charm the pants off of anyone, Dean Winchester." She tried to look past Sam at the rest of the bar. "Have you seen Amie yet?"
Dean shook his head just as Deb reappeared, drinks and menus in hand. She set the drinks down gingerly, then dropped the menus in front of them.
"It seems awful busy tonight, Deb. I certainly hope you're not the only one working," Dean said turning on the charm, hoping to find out if Amie was around. "Is your boss a slave-driver?"
"Nah," Deb laughed. "It's my nephew, Nathan. He's a sweetheart." She pointed over her shoulder to the man behind the bar. "There's plenty of us here. Jason's in the back, slinging the burgers and I think Amie's getting beer from the storage room. Like you said, busy night." She tapped the menu in front of Dean. "Burgers are great by the way. And we have pie, freshly made today. Call me when you're ready to order."
Dean's heart had nearly leapt out of his chest at the mention of Amie's name. He picked up the menu, but he didn't read it, instead he watched the swinging door next to the window carefully, hoping that was where she would come from. He watched it for several minutes and he was just beginning to think that maybe Deb was mistaken and Amie wasn't working when the swinging door came open and she stepped through. She was carrying a case of beer, the muscles in her arms straining, though it didn't look like she was having any trouble. She set it on the bar and began loading the beers into a refrigerator.
The guy bartending, Nate, came up behind Amie and put his hand in the small of her back as he leaned over to whisper in her ear. Dean heard her laugh from across the bar; it was her full-body-throw-her-head-back laugh. He felt himself move to get out of the booth, jealousy pushing every bit of common sense out of him. Sam stopped him with a hand to the arm.
"Dean," his brother warned, shaking his head. "Not a good idea."
Dean looked at his brother, fighting the need to get out of the booth and take the guy out with one punch. He took a couple of deep breaths than slid back to the corner, picked the menu up and held it in front of his face. He tried to concentrate on the words in front of him, but it wasn't exactly working. Nobody else was supposed to touch her like that or make her laugh like that. It would literally kill him if she had found someone new; he didn't think he'd be able to handle it.
Deb returned to their table, order pad in hand. Sam and Shannon each ordered a chicken caesar salad, while Dean ordered a cheeseburger and fries.
"Deb, darling, would you also bring me a whiskey? I don't think this beer is gonna cut it," he asked, a fake smile plastered on his face. "And pie, any kind will do." Deb nodded and hurried from the table.
The trio sat in awkward silence for several minutes until Shannon finally spoke up. "Are you just going to sit here? Or are you going to go say something to her?" She looked at Dean, waiting for him to answer her. When he didn't say anything, she sighed, obviously exasperated. "Look Dean, you've been moping around the bunker ever since she left. Anybody could see you're miserable. You're drinking yourself to death and taking stupid risks while you're hunting." Shannon reached out a hand and placed it on Dean's arm. "As much as I hate to say this, you two need each other, whether you like it or not. You and Amie, you're good together. But since she's convinced herself you need to be apart for some ridiculous reason, you need to convince her she's wrong."
Dean nodded, surprised that Shannon had been that observant, especially when he thought he'd been hiding it so well. He sometimes forgot about the mousy little librarian that had moved herself into the bunker and his brother's heart. She obviously paid attention to what was happening around her. He respected that and appreciated the fact that she was willing to be honest with him.
"Alright, sheesh, I'll go talk to her," he mumbled, trying not to smile. He slid to the side of the booth, encouraged by what Shannon had said. He scanned the bar, looking for Amie. It looked like he wouldn't even have to get up, she was headed directly for them with a food laden tray.
Amie was walking toward them, but she wasn't looking at their table or its occupants. As she weaved her way through the other bar patrons, she managed to speak to nearly everyone. Dean could hear her asking how someone was doing, if they needed a refill on their drink or just making some kind of small talk. By the time she got to their table, she actually had her back turned to them, responding to a shouted hello from the other side of the room.
"Alright folks, Deb got a bit busy, so I brought you your foo…." Her words trailed off as she turned to face them, shock making her blue eyes go wide. Her mouth hung open for a few seconds until she snapped it shut with an audible click.
"Dean," she whispered.
He smiled at her, his heart practically leaping into his throat at the sound of his name falling from her lips.
"Hey baby," he whispered back.
