Chapter Ten

Dean came awake slowly. He could hear different sounds in the room around him—water running, the sounds of someone getting dressed. He patted the bed next to him, trying to find the warm body that had been there a couple of hours earlier. When Dean realized Amie was no longer there, he shot into a sitting position. Where the hell was she?

"She's in the bathroom," Sam said from the saggy couch where he was rummaging through his duffle bag, obviously trying to find clothes. "She's been in there for about 30 minutes, too. I hope she's alright." Sam slipped on a black t-shirt and put on his boots. "I'm gonna go get coffee at the café. I'll be back in 10 or 15 minutes." Sam winked at him, grabbed his jacket off the back of the couch and went out the door, without waiting for a response from Dean.

Dean got up from the bed and crossed the room to knock on the bathroom door. "Amie?" Dean waited impatiently for a response. He was about knock again when the door opened a crack. Amie peered out.

"Where's Sam?" she asked.

Dean stepped back from the door as he answered, "He went to get coffee. He said he'll be back in about 15 minutes." Amie pulled the door open the rest of the way. She was only wearing a tank top and very short, tight, spandex shorts. Dean's breath caught in his throat. He took another step back so he could try to objectively assess Amie's condition. Her nose looked swollen and the cut on her lip was definitely worse than it had been the day before. The cut on her thigh was an angry red and the area around it appeared to be bluish-purple color, probably from bruising. She looked tired, but the shower had put a glow in her cheeks.

"How bad do I look? Be honest." Amie pulled her tank top up to the bottom of her ribs, the bruises there were an angry purple and blue. Dean put his head back and closed his eyes. Even beat to shit Amie looked good. Really good. He needed to get the thoughts running through his head under control.

He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. "You don't look that bad." Amie looked at him, her eyes full of skepticism.

Dean tried again. "No, really. Beat up, sure, but, otherwise, umm, yeah…." For once Dean couldn't think of one smartass comment.

Amie smiled. "Okay, good. I do feel better since I showered." She stepped closer to him. He was very aware of her lack of clothing and the close proximity of their bodies. "Thanks for taking care of me last night. You were great." She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him, then she wrapped her arms around his waist, staring into his face. "You okay?" she asked.

Dean moved his hands to her waist, careful not to touch her bare skin because that would push him over the edge he was precariously teetering on. He decided honesty was the best policy. "Yeah, but you're making it really hard for me to behave myself."

Amie's grin widened as she pressed herself closer to Dean, leaving no space at all between their bodies. "Maybe I don't want you to behave yourself," she teased.

Dean put his mouth next to her ear. "You don't want to say that. You are in no condition for me to misbehave." Before he could stop himself, Dean slid his mouth from Amie's ear down her neck to the space between her shoulder and her collar bone. His hand slid down her back to grab her ass. His other hand slid up to grip her breast through the tank top, his thumb brushing across her nipple. Amie moaned, not in pain but in pleasure. Dean carefully pulled her closer, his lips moving rapidly over her skin. He kissed his way up her neck and across her jawbone until he reached her lips. He slowed the urgency of his kisses, mindful of the cut on her lip. They stood kissing for several minutes, Dean running his hands over Amie's body, careful not to hurt her. God, he wanted her. He wanted to lie her on the bed and make love to her for hours. He wanted to touch and taste every inch of her body. He could feel his excitement rising as their kisses deepened. He pulled Amie tighter against his body. He pushed her shirt up and ran his hands over her back and stomach, finally settling one hand on her bare breast. He lightly twisted and pulled the nipple, as Amie's breath quickened in response. She let out a soft moan, "Oh, God, Dean." With his other hand, Dean grabbed the back of her head to pull her mouth closer to his.

Suddenly, Amie muttered "Shit" and pulled away from him. "Crap that hurt!" She was rubbing the back of her head.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean cursed. "I'm sorry." Dean dropped his hands and took two steps back from Amie. "I'm so sorry."

Amie took a deep breath and shook her head. "You have nothing to be sorry about. I wanted it just as much as you did. I'm the one who snuggled up to you in my underwear. You just looked so damn sexy standing there all wide-eyed and adorable when I came out of the bathroom. All I could think about was getting you to touch me. It worked and now I'm paying for it." Amie shrugged, still rubbing her head. "But I'm taking a rain check. And as soon as I'm feeling better, I will be getting you alone to finish what we started. That's a promise." Amie turned, went back into the bathroom and shut the door.

Dean laughed to himself. She never ceased to amaze him. She was taking the blame for their impromptu make out session and promising to finish it later? Why had it taken him so long to figure out he wanted to be with this woman?

Dean was stretched out on the bed watching TV when Sam returned with the coffee 15 minutes later. After Amie had finally emerged from the bathroom, fully clothed this time, Dean had done his best to keep his distance. Every time he looked at her all he could think about was touching her, so he knew getting near her wasn't an option. He had made a quick dash into the bathroom to get cleaned up and then tried to find something distracting to watch on the tiny motel television. Since Amie had prudently chosen to sit on one of the wobbly chairs at the table, Dean opted to sit across the room on the bed. But he was watching every move she made—the way her fingers moved across her laptop keys, her mouth as she took a drink from the water bottle, how she laughed at the Scooby Doo cartoon he had turned on. The sexual tension in the room had become palpable. Every now and then Dean saw Amie glance over at him, then quickly look away. She obviously felt it too.

So when Sam walked in, his hands full with cups of coffee and a pastry bag, Dean breathed a sigh of relief. Sam looked confusedly between Dean and Amie, unsure of what was going on. Dean got up and grabbed a cup from Sam, then snagged the pastry bag. He pulled out a jelly-filled doughnut and shoved it in his mouth. He dropped the bag on the table.

Sam looked between Dean and Amie. "Did you tell her?" he asked.

Amie's head shot up and she glared at Dean. "Tell me what?"

"No, actually, I didn't tell her yet," Dean answered. "I figured I'd wait until you got back and we could discuss it." Dean shot Sam a pissed look.

Sam shrugged apologetically. He turned to Amie, pulled a doughnut out of the bag, placed it in front of her and launched into a long, drawn out explanation of their plans, which included Amie staying with the boys, ditching her car and holing up at the bunker. Once there, they could work together to figure out what was going on. Dean tuned out what Sam was saying and watched Amie. Her forehead was creased in concentration as she listened. Her eyes flashed in anger as Sam talked, but Dean didn't think it was anger with either of them, but rather the situation. She was very independent and giving that up was not going to be easy for her. Once Sam was done talking, she sat sipping her coffee and staring at the maple doughnut Sam had given her. When she finally spoke, Dean could her the resignation in her voice.

"Okay. I don't think we have any other choice anyway. We need to figure out why this is happening." Amie pushed her hair out of her face and looked at Dean. "Whatever I need to do, I'll do it."

Dean was relieved that she wasn't going to argue. Now they just needed to get back to the bunker as quickly as possible. He wouldn't feel like Amie was completely safe until that happened. The sooner they got on the road, the better.