Chapter Fourteen
Dean wasn't sure he'd ever felt more awkward and uncomfortable than he had over the last several days. Amie was still avoiding him. Even though they had told her as much as they could about Crowley, Abbadon and even the angels falling from Heaven, she still seemed pissed. When he'd first tried talking to her, she had just sat staring at him while he stammered out lame excuse after lame excuse, until she'd finally cut him off. "Enough, Dean. I got it," she'd said, rolling her eyes. Since then, they'd exchanged maybe ten or fifteen sentences total. At night, she'd close herself in her room and during the day she would avoid any unnecessary contact—she'd sit on the opposite side of the table from him while they did research, or worse, excuse herself to leave when he walked in. She'd been spending a lot of time on the gun range; Dean could hear the distant popping of her weapon several times a day. She'd also thrown herself into the research on the demon they were trying to find. She had spent hours and hours on her laptop and combing through books. Dean figured she was just trying to keep herself busy.
He wasn't sure what he needed to do to fix what was wrong. Well, he did know, it just wasn't that easy for him. Apologizing had never been something he was good at doing. Every time he tried to talk to her, whatever he was trying to say came out sounding stupid and clichéd. He knew he could show her how sorry he was, but she was doing her best to avoid being alone with him. Sam kept telling him to give her time, but Dean was impatient and it had already been four days. He needed to make things right with her, sooner rather than later.
"Alright, I've looked everywhere and tried everything," Sam said, interrupting Dean's thoughts. "I think we have to talk to Crowley. Figure out a way to get him to help us find Abbadon. Or at least this demon we can supposedly use to get to her. What do think?"
"Yeah, you're right. I can't think of anything else. But you know he's all about that 'quid pro quo' shit. What's he going to want in return?" Dean rubbed a hand down his face.
"What's 'who' going to want for what?" Amie asked as she walked in the room. Dean felt his eyes widen at the sight of her. She must have been working out; she was wearing tight yoga pants and a tank top, her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and she was covered lightly in sweat. When she turned her back to him to pour herself some coffee, he put his head down, banging it lightly on the table several times. She was literally trying to kill him. Sam grinned sympathetically and patted his arm.
"Crowley," Sam answered, "he always wants something, when and if we can get him to give up any information. Problem is, we never know what 'It' is going to be."
Amie sat down across the table, propping her feet on the chair next to her, listening to Sam talk about Crowley. Dean watched every move she made. It was driving him crazy that he hadn't touched her in days. It was practically taking all of his self-control to keep himself in his chair. His eyes roamed every inch of her body, watching her lips, her hands, listening to her voice. She was very distracting.
As Dean stared at Amie, it occurred to him that maybe she was just the distraction they needed. And while he hated the thought of taking her anywhere near the King of Hell, she would love the challenge. Plus, it could get him one step closer to forgiveness, if Amie thought he trusted her enough to help. It just might work. Dean interrupted Sam. "I think I know how to get Crowley to talk."
"Remember, don't cross into the devil's trap. Stay on its outer edge. I don't want you too close to him," Dean told Amie for what he figured was the tenth time.
"I know, Dean," she sighed from behind him. "It's not like I haven't dealt with demons before."
Dean stopped so abruptly Amie ran into him. He turned around and took her by the upper arms. Sam stopped a few feet behind them, leaning against the wall. "Yes, but you haven't dealt with the King of Hell before. He's a whole new ball game. I don't want you hurt, so we're not taking any chances, do you understand me?" Amie nodded at him, staring into his face. Dean pulled her closer and whispered in her ear, "I cannot handle losing you. So please, please, just do as I ask." Dean felt her nod against his cheek. He let her go and resumed walking down the hall.
Dean couldn't believe it had been his idea to introduce Amie to Crowley. It literally went against every fiber of his being to be taking her to him. But once he had suggested it, there was no taking it back. Both Sam and Amie had thought it was a good idea and it might work. After all, Crowley loved a pretty face. And Dean figured once Crowley knew about his relationship with her, it would make him all sorts of talkative. He wouldn't be able to resist trying to get Amie to talk about Dean. Maybe they could use that to get some information.
When they reached the door to the room they kept Crowley in, Dean gestured Sam forward. Sam stepped in front of Amie, shoulder to shoulder with Dean. Dean wanted to block Crowley's view of her when they entered, hopefully taking him by surprise. Sam pushed open the door.
"Well, look who came to visit," Crowley crooned. "My two favorite hunters, Moose and Squirrel. I've missed our talks so much. Especially with you, Sam." Crowley smiled the smirky little smile that always made Dean want to punch his face, this time being no exception.
Dean stepped forward, slightly ahead of Sam, Amie still behind them. "We have a few questions for you. Thought maybe you'd be willing to talk."
Crowley stared at the ceiling. "Seriously, with the bothersome questions again. Really, Dean? You are so boring. Where's that Kevin kid? Now he's interesting." Crowley winked at him.
Dean looked at Sam and nodded. They each took a step to the side at the same time that Amie stepped forward. She took Dean's hand, intertwining her fingers with his. He squeezed her hand and pulled her closer. She seemed to know exactly how to get Crowley's attention.
Dean noticed Crowley's eyes widen slightly. He licked his lips twice, looking Amie up and down. "Well, hello gorgeous. And who might you be?" He looked at Amie holding Dean's hand and turned his attention to him. "Don't tell me you went and got yourself a girlfriend, Dean? And a pretty one at that. Whatever does she see in you? I'd have thought the girls would prefer the taller brother."
Dean kept his mouth shut and watched Amie closely. She smiled, her blue eyes shining. Dean recognized the look on her face. It was the one she got when she knew what she wanted and exactly how she was going to get it. She stepped closer to Crowley, but Dean noticed she didn't cross the devil's trap or let go of his hand. "Aren't you just adorable? All chained up and trapped." Amie laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls of the room. "My name's Amie. And you're Crowley, right? I've heard so much about you. I thought maybe you and I could have a chat."
Dean saw Crowley shift slightly in his chair. He looked confused, which was not a look Dean was accustomed to seeing on his face. Dean couldn't help but smile. Amie had Crowley right where she wanted him. This could end up being fun.
Crowley turned out to surprisingly chatty, warming up to Amie immediately. He seemed to like her, which made Dean very nervous. Of course, he'd been full of questions, most of which Amie seemed willing to answer. The only ones she refused to answer were the ones about her feelings for Dean. Those were the ones Dean wished she would answer. She just told Crowley she'd answer them at another time.
"Alright, I answered your questions," she finally said after more than an hour of talking with Crowley. She glanced at Dean. "Some of which were very personal, I might add. I talked, now you talk. What's the name of the demon?"
Crowley sat quietly for a minute before answering. "Chase Price. He's in Arkansas. And will you do me a favor, love? Stop Abbadon. I really don't want that bitch taking over Hell." Crowley winked at Amie. Dean saw her shudder.
Amie rose from the chair she'd been sitting in, obviously ready to leave. Dean stood up from his spot by the door. He hadn't left the room the entire time she'd been in there. Sam had left after a while, saying he had better things to do than listen to Crowley ask Amie about her sex life. But Dean had stayed, moving across the room to lean against the wall by the door. There was no way he was leaving Amie alone with Crowley, even if she was following all of his rules.
Before Dean could get Amie out the door, Crowley spoke up one more time. "Don't be a stranger, love. I really enjoyed our little visit."
Dean was proud of her; she didn't even flinch, let alone turn around. Instead, she pulled the door open and walked out. Dean followed close behind.
Amie was hurrying down the hallway. Dean was right behind her, but he wasn't saying anything. He was waiting to see what she was going to do. Once she hit the door to the library, she turned around and put her hand on his chest. He looked down at her hand, then into her eyes, a question on his lips.
"That's far enough, Dean. I'm going to get cleaned up. You go in there," Amie pointed to the library, "and get started finding this Chase Price guy." Dean was disappointed and he knew it showed on his face. Amie briefly clutched his shirt where her hand still rested on his chest. "I know we need to talk and I promise we will. Just let me wash the stench of Crowley out of my hair and off of my skin. Okay?"
Dean nodded his agreement and turned to go. He stopped when Amie grabbed his arm. When he turned back to her, she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. He smiled, relief flooding him. As he watched her continue down the hallway, he hoped that kiss had meant that he was forgiven.
Dean could hear a blow dryer on the other side of the door, so he knocked loudly.
"Come in!" he heard Amie yell.
Dean opened the door and stuck his head in. "Hey, you hungry?" He held up two sandwiches and a couple bottles of water.
"Yeah, actually I am. Just let me finish up." Amie grabbed her brush and pulled it through her hair. Dean sat at a small table near the door, just watching her. He could tell that she was almost fully recovered from her injuries. There was no stiffness in her movements or wincing in pain like there had been earlier in the week. He wondered if the bruises were fading, but since Amie was wearing jeans and a button-down shirt, he couldn't see anything.
Amie tossed her brush on the counter and came to sit at the table with Dean. They ate in silence for a few minutes, avoiding eye contact. Dean felt like they were each waiting for the other one to say something. Finally, he couldn't take it any longer. He stood up and pulled his chair closer to Amie's, until their knees were touching. He reached out and took her hands.
He knew he needed to say something. If he had any hope of salvaging what he had with her, he was going to have to apologize. Very quietly he whispered, "I'm sorry."
Amie looked up, a shocked look on her face. "What did you say?"
Dean felt uncomfortable, but he repeated himself. "I'm sorry. I screwed up. I kept things from you, thinking I was protecting you. I shouldn't have done it. It was stupid. I promise it won't happen again."
Amie sighed. Dean didn't know if that was good or bad. She sat watching him for a couple of minutes, her face blank and unreadable. But then she put her hands on either side of his face and kissed him. "Thank you," she said quietly. She kissed him again. And then again. Dean leaned forward and put his hands on Amie's waist, pulling her onto his lap. They sat like that for several minutes, kissing. Dean felt his excitement rise with each kiss.
Amie stood up, pulling Dean with her. She backed toward the bed, unbuttoning her shirt as she walked. Dean kept his eyes locked on hers as he followed her to the other side of the room. He pushed the bedroom door closed as he passed it. When he reached Amie, he lowered her to the bed. He pushed her shirt off and threw it on the floor. Dean spent the next several minutes exploring Amie's body. He slid his hand up her leg, stopping at her waist and unbuttoning her jeans. She lifted her hips so he could pull them off. He threw them on the floor with her shirt. He moved his mouth to her neck and began kissing and licking the sensitive area above her collar bone, his hands touching Amie everywhere. She sighed, tightly gripping Dean's arm. She slid her hands under his t-shirt, pushing it up. He reached over his head and pulled it off. Amie ran her hands over Dean's chest and back, pulling him closer with each kiss. The urgency of their kissing increased, until Dean thought he would burst. When Amie's hand moved to unbutton his jeans, Dean let out a low moan. He quickly stood up and pulled off his jeans and boxers. When he returned to the bed, Amie had removed her bra and panties, adding them to the pile of clothes on the floor. Dean paused to appreciate her body—the lean muscles coupled with the female curves. His eyes were drawn to the anti-possession tattoo in white ink on her lower right hip. He bent forward, his lips caressing the tattoo, then moving across her waist and up her stomach until his mouth settled on her breast. He heard Amie's sharp intake of breath as his tongue teased the nipple. Dean's hand moved below Amie's waist, caressing and exploring until she was panting with excitement. When he thought neither of them could hold back any longer, he moved over her, pushing forward with his hips. Amie grabbed the back of his head, bringing his mouth to hers, pulling him forward until he had entered her fully. They began moving in unison, the sounds of their lovemaking filling the room. Dean increased the movement of his hips as Amie's excitement grew in correlation with his, her moans coming louder and faster until neither of them could wait any longer. Dean's mouth found Amie's again as their bodies came together and exploded.