Chapter 4

It hovered about an inch from her lips. She could almost taste it. And then the sound of the doorbell reverberated through the kitchen and it was as if she'd been punched in the gut.

"What now?" She voiced out her aggravation.

For a moment she considered ignoring whoever had had the ridiculous idea to come knocking on her door at this ungodly hour and just bite into her sandwich.

It rang again and she pushed out a frustrated half-growl. Putting down her food, she wiped her hands on her jeans and marched over to the front door.

"What?! Can't a girl have a decent meal without being-" She swung the door open, prepared to lash out at the person standing behind it, but instead gasped: "Jesus!"

In front of her, hunched over and barely propping himself up against the threshold was one Garrett Bailey; crimson red blotted the front of his plaid shirt, as well as the sleeves and he was clearly out of breath.

"I'm good, but I ain't that good." Despite his state he managed to quip and send her his trademark wink.

"What the hell happened to you?!" She exclaimed, hastily slipping his arm over her shoulder and helping him into her house.

"Oh, you know... the usual." He coughed.

Five minutes later he was lying, shirtless on the couch.

Placing the makeshift suture kit on the coffee table, she knelt down next to him and began accessing the damage. It wasn't as bad as she'd thought at first - three claw marks on his stomach, plus a couple on the inside of his left forearm, none of which were currently bleeding.

"Where did you get these?"

"Werewolf, near Cincinnati." He supplied, his gaze burning into her face.

He scrutinized every last feature while she began working on the gashes.

"That's a five hour drive." She popped a single, chastising eyebrow up at him.

"Four, when I'm drivin'"

"I'm sure there are at least three hospitals on the way over here." She continued to reprimand bringing the soaked gauze to the slashes on his stomach.

"Couldn't find any." He shrugged and hissed with a twinge of pain.

"Really?"

"Honest to God." He assured her, but the impish pitch in his voice was unpersuasive.

She let out an exasperated breath. What was she going to do with this kid? This was the third time in the last two months he'd shown up at her door.

"You could have bled out." She pointed out with a graver tone.

"Huh-huh." He bobbed his head dismissively, solely focused on committing her face to memory.

After all, this could be the last time he saw her.

He gulped and started his study at the small wrinkle over the bridge of her nose. It seemed to always pop up whenever she was concentrating on something and he was sure that if he checked her mouth he would also find her biting her lip.

"I don't have any local anaesthetic." She informed him.

It didn't bother him. As long as it was her doing the stitching, he'd be fine.

"Cold turkey it is, then."

"Ok, here we go."

His breath hitched when the needle first pierced through his skin. She looked up. Their eyes met and the butterflies in his stomach outshined the throbbing caused by her actions.

"You ok?"

He nodded, unable to find his voice when confronted by those big doe eyes.

Next on his list, was her tiny nose. Once he was satisfied he'd memorized it, his gaze followed the sharp arc of her cheekbone to her ear and then trailed down the slender curve of her neck.

Though she was focused on the task at hand she could still feel his eyes burning into her.

"So..." She tried to dissipate some of the tension by cutting through the silence. "Anything new?"

He frowned at her question.

"You askin' me about huntin'?"

"Uh-huh."

"What about the not a peep about hunting rule?" He quoted her verbatim.

Apparently, her little plan to distract him by making small talk backfired, because, if anything, his staring became even more intense.

His query remained unanswered.

"Why the sudden interest?" He probed.

"Just felt like chatting." She pursed her lips, finishing the first cut and moving on to the next.

Ok. She wanted to talk. It was fine by him. But where to start? A lot had happened since she'd decided to censor out that particular subject matter. A whole lot!

"Well..." He began and she could already feel herself relaxing, because in his pondering his gaze drifted to the ceiling.

'Thank God!'

Now she could simply phase out his yapping, occasionally dropping in a few mumbled retorts and she'd be home free.

"... over the last year someone's been trying to get the downstairs big cheese out of his cage."

Why did Garrett always have to make things difficult?

She rolled her eyes and reluctantly requested:

"Downstairs big cheese? Care to break down the cryptic Garrett speak there?"

"The Devil." He said it like it was the most inconsequential thing in the world.

She stopped what she was doing and zoomed in on his face. He had a goofy, childlike smile perched on his lips.

"The Devil out of his cage? As in get the Devil out of hell?"

"Bingo!" He continued to grin at her.

"So the whole Light Bearer, Lucifer gig is real?" She sounded doubtful.

"Yep! The Big Kahuna! The Big Enchilada! The Big-"

"I get it!" She cut off his rambling.

She studied him for a few seconds and then spoke again:

"So, how do you get the Devil out of hell?"

"Dunno, something about seals being broken. Sixty six of them."

"What? Six hundred and sixty six seals was just too much of a hassle, so someone decided to drop a decimal, that it?"

"Huh?"

He had no idea what she was talking about.

"What kind of hunter are you?"

"What do you mean?" He asked, slightly offended by her query.

She chuckled and her relaxing laugh washed over him.

"You didn't pay much attention in Sunday school, did you?"

"Do I look like a choirboy to you?"

"Choir, not so much. Boy? Definitely."

"Ouch! That hurt."

He tried to lock gazes with her, but her attention was already back on the wound she continued to sew up methodically.

"You're too hung up on numbers."

"Really?" She smirked, shaking her head.

She had to hand it to Garrett Bailey - he was nothing if not persistent.

Ever since the first time she'd met him, he'd tried to get her to go out with him. She'd just finished her third year of med school and had come home for the holidays. Exhausted, she'd dropped her duffle bag the moment she'd walked through the front door. From the hall she'd bellowed out her arrival. Instead of her mother though, she'd found a fifteen year-old boy sitting on the living room couch, waiting for his uncle to get patched up. His green eyes had zeroed in on her and that had been it. With a cocky grin and an exaggerated swagger he'd closed the distance between them and promptly had introduced himself; the drawl in his accent giving away his Texan background.

When, after exchanging no more than three sentences, he'd suggested they go somewhere more private, she'd started scanning the place for hidden cameras. Had to be a joke, right? No one could be this brash and smug. At the time, as well as tonight, her brain disobediently presented her with a glowing example that fit, and surely surpassed, the requirements for that particular profile. She hastily dismissed the thought and strained to keep her head off the recent memory and on the more distant one.

She remembered that when she'd turned back to the boy, he was still leering like he was about to pounce on her and she'd quickly put up her arm.

"Ow! Back up there, Casanova."

He'd purposefully stepped forward, causing her outstretched hand to rest on his chest. Arm's length was all the distance she was gonna get from this one.

"You should really come with a leash." She'd mocked, expecting to see a hint of embarrassment on his cheeks.

But he'd remained unfazed:

"I've always been more of a handcuff guy, myself. But I can do leashes."

Five years later, the memory of that encounter still brought a smile to her face.

Even though he'd grown quite a bit since then (he was now well over six feet), every time he made a pass at her, she still saw him as that eyebrow-waggling teenager - charming and awkwardly cute, sure! – but still… no more than a cocky kid.

"What?" He questioned catching her grin.

"Nothing." She sighed, moving onto the next cut.

"I'm gonna be 21, you know? Not exactly in diapers here."

"No, but you still can't buy alcohol, can you?" She jabbed, looking up and raising an eyebrow at him.

"Doesn't mean I don't drink." He countered and added with a smirk: "Plus, most things are a lot more fun when you're sober."

"Most hunters would disagree with you on that one."

She couldn't help dropping her gaze under his intense stare. Though she had no romantic interest in him, she had to admit that the way he looked at her did wonders for her ego.

"Point is you were probably still working your way around your baby teeth right about the same time I got my bachelor degree."

"Oh, I don't know about that."

There was just no deterring this kid.

"I was very precocious, you know? How old are you supposed to be when you lose your last baby tooth?"

"Garrett, I'm not gonna discuss dental anatomy with you while I'm patching you up. Just keep still and let me finish this, ok?"

Out of the corner of her eyes she caught his nodded agreement.

"Thank you." She sighed.

Her nimble fingers faltered in their task as she felt his dissecting eyes on her face.

"Garrett…" She warned.

"What?" He feigned innocence.

"Quit it." She grumbled.

"Am I makin' you nervous?" His voice carried traces of his smirk.

Fortunately, she was out of gauze.

It gave her an excuse to walk away from him, his scrutinizing stare and his uncomfortable question.

"Hold on a sec, I need to get something."

He nodded again but kept his eyes on her all the while she walked around the room gathering what she needed. When she sat back down he was still gaping at her.

After a total of ten seconds of silence he approached the subject again.

"This might be the last time you see me. Come on… give a guy a break, sweetheart."

At the use of the endearing term her throat closed up abruptly and her stomach churned. The needle in her hand ruthlessly pierced through his skin, causing him to jerk and let out a howl of pain.

"Hey!"

She ignored his protest and he was shocked to find himself on the receiving end of a deadly glare.

"Don't call me that."

"What? Sweetheart?"

She had to shut her eyes and swallow hard against the sudden sting in her chest that made her breath hitch.

He was confused by her unexplained, visceral reaction.

"O-ok. I-I'm sorry." He stuttered ineptly.

He didn't mean to upset her. Hell, he didn't even know why she was upset in the first place! So he'd called her sweetheart, big deal! But still he was sorry for having caused her any sort of distress.

She opened her eyes and focused on her breathing.

'Inhale, exhale... it's ok, it's gonna be ok. You're ok.'

As if saying it out loud would make the voice in her head truthful, she worded out the mantra:

"I-It's ok, just don't...."

He just wanted to make the ache marring her face go away.

"I won't, Carrington." He hurriedly agreed.

And there it was again. The electric jolt in her gut, that made her shudder a bit. Letting out a small pant she murmured, eyes buried in her work.

"I told you before. It's Amy. Just... Amy."

Author's note (added after the chapter was posted)

Apparently there has been some confusion as to who this "Amy" is. So I have 2 notes actually:

For those who read Save Yourself: Yep - this is Amy, and this is sort of a sequel to Save Yourself. It can stand on its own because in future chapters I plan to add info about SV, but if you'd like to see it as a sequel… I guess you is set approximately 1 year after Dean died and season 4 happened exactly how it is depicted in the actual show and it picks up after the big season finale. those who have not read Save Yourself (My previous fic)

If you don't feel like reading 50 or more chapters here's the gist of it:

Amy Carrington is an original character created by me. She's about 29 years-old and a medical doctor. She is strong, a bit stubborn (euphemism), has a mind of her own and no, she does not drool over Dean. Ok, maybe on the inside, but she's too pigheaded and proud to show it outwardly. Come on, Dean is already cocky enough as it is.

She grew up in Griffin, Indiana with her mother who was also a medical doctor.

Ever since she was in pigtails her home has been a safe house for hunters who get injured during a job. One of the many patrons of the Carrington's household was John Winchester who would, on occasion, resort to this refuge, bringing along his two children (Sam and Dean).

This is how Amy came to know John's oldest son.

From the get go they didn't like each other. For Amy, Dean was a rude, smug, smart-aleck, who eventually grew up to be a womanizing scoundrel.

For Dean, Amy was a stubborn, self-righteous goody-two-shoes.

One night, as children, Amy finds a nosy Dean playing around her father's collection of paranormal paraphernalia, which includes the Rings of Ocellina. Legend has it that if two people read the incantation the rings would split and if worn by those same people would allow their souls to be joined. And this is exactly what Dean and Amy did, by accident.

Fast forward 19 years, a mangled and half dead Dean is brought to Amy's doorstep. She saves him and when the hellhounds come for him again she slips on one of the rings into Dean's finger. This effectively makes it impossible for the Hellhounds to collect Dean's soul since it's now linked to Amy's and she was never part of the deal.

The rest of the story deals with them trying to hunt down Lilith and get Dean out of the deal, but it you want to know how it ends I guess you're going to have to read that one.

Puff, well, that was a long one... huh? Anyway, that's all the back story you need. All this information is gonna be gradually included in this story (The Gathering), but for those who found it a bit confusing... there you have it. ;)