Chapter 12

Her nails tapped anxiously on the arm rest of the car door causing Dean to throw her a sideways glower.

She ignored him, like she always did and continued to tap-tap away. She was tired, feeling dirty, on the run from a royally pissed off demon and her little minions and he wasn't letting her smoke. What was she supposed to do? Just sit tight and do as she was told? Hell, no! If she was going to be miserable and nicotine deprived she was going to make damn sure he was just as miserable as she was.

When she shifted for the tenth time in the same amount of minutes Dean couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Will you just quit fidgeting, already?" He bellowed. "It's distracting."

"Oh, really?" Her voice was dripping with caustic sarcasm. "You know what else is distracting? Having to leave your home in a hurry, without taking a decent shower, because some Uber demon wants your entrails on a stick."

He didn't say anything and simply kept his eyes on the road.

After a minute she moved again and sighed loudly.

"Can't you just sit still for like a minute?" He demanded.

"Don't push me, Winchester. My nicotine levels are way to low to deal with you right now." She threatened. "How much longer till we get to the motel?"

"Maybe half an hour." Dean replied.

Another minute went by and she let out another deep, frustrated breath.

"That's it!" Dean exclaimed suddenly pulling over and slamming the brakes. "Get out!"

She looked at him bug-eyed.

"Go have a smoke already. I can't take another second of you worming around, let alone half an hour." He explained.

Wordlessly, she stepped out making sure to bang the door.

"Hey, watch it!"

She didn't even notice when he got out of the car and came around to give her a reproving scowl. She was too busy rummaging through her pockets. He was stunned at the expression of intense pleasure that appeared on her face when she finally took a deep puff of the poisonous cigarette.

"Those things are going to kill you." He muttered trying to ignore the warmth in the pit of his stomach.

Her left eyebrow instantly popped up on her forehead.

"You're joking, right?"

"That's what you docs say anyway." Dean shrugged.

"Off the top of my head I can think of at least a couple of looming death threats which are clearly more imminent than a stupid cigarette."

Her eyes were closed, her head lolling back as she leaned on the side of the car, thoroughly enjoying her smoke. The image caused him to stare at her.

He hastily redirected his attention to the asphalt when she opened her eyes and caught him. Trying to divert her attention from his indiscretion, he grumbled:

"Will, you just hurry up. Sam's waiting for us."

And she glared daggers at him.

"I'm not moving from here until I've had at least three cigarettes."

"What?"

"I'm replenishing my nicotine stock." She informed haughtily.

"You get one cigarette and that's it." He countered.

"Forget it." She puffed closing her lids again.

"Amy, I'm serious."

"So am I." She retorted snapping her eyes open to pin him with her stare.

He took a step forward and knowingly invaded her personal space, using his height as a form of intimidation, but it didn't take as she just craned her neck up and matched his glower.

Bringing the cigarette to her lips she took one last drag before dropping it to the ground. With her eyes still on his she extracted another cylinder from the carton box and brought it to her mouth.

He narrowed his eyes seeing the lighter come closer to the tip of the cigarette.

"Don't even think about it."

"I'm not thinking. I'm doing." She replied arrogantly but just as she was about to burn the cigarette he grabbed the lighter from her hand.

"A-ha!" He said triumphantly stepping way and teasingly waved the stolen object around.

She remained unfazed and simply fished out another similar lighter from the back of her jeans and lit up her cigarette before sardonically returning his:

"A-ha. Oh, you sad little man, you know so little about smokers." She mocked.

His smile crumbled.

"Put that thing out." He commanded coming to tower over her again.

"I will, when I'm good and ready." She gave him a tight smile and he felt his blood bubble.

God, she was infuriating.

"Put. It. Out." He bit out each word.

"No." She said in a light jibbing tone.

"Amy, I'm warning you…"

"And I'm smoking. So quit-"

Her eyes widened in shock when he snatched the cigarette straight out of her mouth and threw it off the side of the road.

"You bastard!" She screamed.

"Get in the car." He said coming around to the driver's side.

"No!"

"Amy, get in the fucking car."

He widened his eyes at her when she made a move to take another cigarette.

"Don't do it." He warned.

She stuck out her tongue and ignored him. Before she knew it her back was flat against the door of the passenger seat and she had two glaring green eyes staring at her.

"Gimme, that!"

"Hey!"

Despite her protest, Dean seized the crumpled pack out of her hands and threw it over his shoulder.

"Get in the car."

"Like hell I will."

"Either you get in the car or you're riding in the trunk." He gave her her options.

She forced a smile.

"You wouldn't dare." She uttered all the while trying to read his expression.

It was kind of hard with said expression hovering about two inches away from her face.

"Try me." He issued the serious challenged.

"Let me go."

"Promise to get into the car and I will."

"I need another cigarette." She insisted.

"What you need is to get your scrawny ass in the car." The moment he said he knew it was a mistake.

Ever since they were kids Amy hated being called scrawny or bony, hence the nickname he'd chosen for her.

Suddenly she pushed him away and tried to escape. He stumbled back for a second, but just as she was about to weasel her way out of his trap he grabbed both of her wrists and pinned them on the hood of the car on either side of her.

Her heart began to race at the prospect of being truly tramped and her brain went on autopilot. Her knee came up to connect with his groin but he anticipated the move and stepped forward, pushing his body into hers fully and successfully evade her assault. She felt the air being knocked out of her lungs as he slammed into her. Every single fibber in her body screamed, her throat closed up and she found a whole new meaning of the expression 'butterflies in your stomach' when she felt it spam powerfully.

On one hand she wanted to get as much distance between them as possible, but on the other she was thankful he was pressed against her because the way her knees were shaking she was pretty sure she'd plop mushily to the floor if not for his unwelcome support.

'Please don't move, please don't move, please don't move...'

Dean wasn't quite sure if his mental plead was directed at her or at a certain part of his anatomy. Either way it was best if neither budged. He wasn't sure what he would do if either scenario unfolded.

Regaining her composure after the initial surprise, she repeated, but winced inwardly when her voice came out feeble and hoarse:

"Let me go."

He was staring at her mouth again. Why did he keep doing that? It just made it harder for her to breathe.

"Get in the car." He was barely able to keep the need from his tone.

She pondered on asking again but feared that her voice would falter if she did, so she tried to wiggle her way free and this time he wasn't able to hold in a guttural moan as her actions caused their pelvis to grind together.

Their wide eyes met. The primitive sound that had come out of him had been unmistakable. And things down south weren't helping either. She was pretty sure something had just moved.

He could feel the heat irradiating from his cheeks. Conflicting emotions of embarrassment and anger for feeling that same embarrassment clashed inside him.

Why the hell was he trying to hide this from her when his usual MO was to flaunt it?

He was supposed to feel cocky at the dumbfounded expression on her face, not shame.

He wanted her... So what? Big deal!

Eventually, the rage won over and snapped him into action.

Amy let out a yelp when she was abruptly flung over his shoulder and the next thing she knew she was being dumped inside the trunk of the Impala.

Her back connected with the dark surface and before she could yell, the hood was being slammed in her face.

Dean let his hands and forehead rest on the stirring wheel as he gathered himself.

His pulse was frantic, his breathing erratic, his palms sweaty.

In the distance he could make out her shouting and cursing.

This woman was going to be the death of him.

Sam let out a sigh when he saw the familiar Impala park just outside the motel. But his relief was short-lived when he failed to see Amy in the passenger seat. He rushed out of his room to meet his brother halfway.

"Where's Amy?"

Dean never stopped moving as he tossed Sam the keys and informed him nonchalantly:

"In the trunk. I'm taking a shower."

Sam halted gobsmacked, but Dean was already inside.

"In the- What do you mean in the trunk?!"

"Dean, you bastard! Get me the hell out of here! I'm going to kill-"

She stopped yelling when the trunk finally opened and she saw an apologetic Sam looking down on her.

"Where is he?" She demanded jumping out of her car.

"He's inside, but-"

Sam wasn't even able to finish; she was already marching her way up to the door he had left open.

Stepping inside, she made a straight line for the bathroom door when her ears picked up on the sound of a shower. Not bothering to knock, she practically kicked the door open and ignored the fact that a shirtless Dean was currently working on unfastening his jeans.

"You asshole!"

Her fist connected powerfully with his jaw catching him off guard and he stumbled back for a moment.

Before she could go in for seconds, Sam caught her, his arm hastily wrapping around her waist and literally sweeping off her feet as he carried her back into the room.

"Amy, calm down."

Dean heard his brother beg her. He watched her struggled against Sam's grip, her legs and arms waving around madly, her auburn locks, which had come loose from her ponytail, were now covering her face.

"Let go of me, Sam!" She shouted.

"Not before you calm down." He responded.

She wiggled around a few seconds more, but eventually realised that this wasn't going to get her anywhere, so she let her body go limp in a sign of defeat.

Cautiously, Sam started letting go of her, but the moment her feet touched the floor she pounced on Dean. Thankfully, Sam's quick reflexes came in handy and he stepped in between her and the older hunter. She still tried in vain to reach Dean, but Sam was like a wall she couldn't move around.

"You're crazy!" Dean accused.

She stopped at that and just glared at him, while Sam remained guardedly between them.

"Good! That way I can plead temporary insanity when I kill you!" She spat huffing and puffing a few rebellious locks away from her face.

Dean just gawked. Her hair was tousled, her cheeks pink with anger, her breathing was frenzied causing her chest to rise up and down at a frightening pace, but the most astonishing thing about her at that moment were definitely her eyes.

Glaring murderously at him, they seemed greener than before, and he could've sworn he saw a hint of fire in them.

She looked... He gulped.

Ineptly, he reached for the fastening of his jeans and zipped them back up.

"Look, Amy, I don't know why Dean locked you in the trunk, but he shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry." Sam was speaking, but had the strangest feeling that neither of them was listening as they glowered heatedly at one another.

The staring contest went on for another minute or so before Amy spoke, her eyes never leaving Dean's.

"Do you have the bag thingy?"

"The hex bag? Yeah, I have it right here." Sam reached for his backpack, retrieving the object and handing it to Amy.

"Good."

With that she strutted out of the motel.

"Where is she going?" Sam questioned worriedly looking at Dean for help, but he didn't budge.

Sam relaxed a bit when Amy walked back inside carrying her own backpack. Dropping it on the bed she opened it and dug out three bottles containing prescription drugs.

"These are the antibiotics, that's painkillers. The information on how to take them is on the labels. Drink lots of fluids, try to keep the wounds clean and no heavy lifting 'cause even with you being stitch free it doesn't mean they can't open up again." The words came out of her robotically and without any emotion.

She looked up at Sam and said:

"It was nice seeing you again, Sam." Turning to the shorter brother she added: "You, not so much. Goodbye."

And with that she was out the door.