Chapter 25
Sometimes… all it takes is a faint nudge … a quiet intake of breath, or maybe just a muffled pant to pierce through the haze and hurl you back to reality.
For Amy, that instant came when she felt his thumb lazily brush over the corner of her jaw.
Without warning, she broke the kiss. Dean instinctively trailed after her; lids still closed… blindly seeking the warmth of her mouth.
He let out a complaining groan when he failed to recapture her lips… Suddenly, she was scrambling away from him.
His eyes snapped open. Still reeling from what had just happened between them, it took him a couple of blinks to focus his sight. By the time he did, she was already halfway across the room.
"What-" His voice caught in his throat. Shaking his head, refocusing, he tried again: "What are you doin'?"
"You gotta go." She stated matter-of-factly, picking up his shirt and flinging it at him.
He managed to grab the item before it hit him square in the face. Dumbstruck, Dean watched her hastily fasten the robe around her frame; her shaking hands coming up to secure her unruly locks behind both ears before she looked up at him.
He held her gaze in silence, allowing the aggravation worming around in his stomach to build up. It was always the same thing with her.
After ten long seconds he put her out of her misery. He stood up and began putting on his clothes with sharp, angry movements.
"Well, that didn't take long."
His disheveled hair poked out oddly as he gruffly pushed his head through the collar of his t-shirt.
"You're getting better at this, sweetheart."
The bitterness in his tone was hard to ignore and it made her flinch. But she didn't say anything, merely stood there as he slipped on the rest of his clothes.
"You're down to what? Five seconds?"
His glowering eyes met hers, just as he finished zipping up his jeans. Despite the chill running down her back, she was able to retort with a masterful sigh:
"Don't know what you're talking about, Winchester…"
Was she serious? Wasn't it obvious? She was running! Like she always did whenever they…
"Just forget it!" He gave up, shoulders slumped. "You're right. I gotta go. Bobby's waitin'."
She didn't get a chance to get a word in. He was already out the door.
"What's up?"
All heads turned to the staircase to find Dean striding into the bar.
"We're in a shitload of trouble, that's what's up." Garret's sneer earned him an immediate reproach from Ellen:
"Watch your mouth, kid."
"What?! We're in the middle of the God damn Apocalypse and you're worried about cursin'? Lady, you better get your priorities straight." The Texan scoffed.
Ominously, Ellen leaned over the counter with a deadly warning:
"You listen to me, boy. As long as you're under my roof, you're gonna live by my rules. And the rule is - no cursin', got it?"
All arrogance drained out of him under the menacing glare and he quickly backpedaled:
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good."
With the confrontation settled, Dean turned his attention back to Bobby.
"Sam fill you in?"
"Yeah. And I hate to say it… but we're in a shitload of trouble."
Garrett jerked up and anxiously waited for Ellen's reaction. It never came.
"So he gets to swear but I don't?" Garrett whined.
"He's Bobby." Ellen replied, dismissing the young man with no further explanation. "I'm worried about Jo. It's not gonna take long before word gets out to other hunters."
"She's with Gunther, right?" Sam joined in on the conversation.
Ellen nodded, anxiety tightening her jaw.
"Tell her to get out of Sacramento." Dean decided on the spot.
"And go where?" Sam questioned.
"Dunno. They know she's Ellen's daughter. They could use her to get to us. Just get her away from hunters. Tell her to head down south, away from this whole mess. I never really liked the idea of her joinin' up anyway." Dean explained.
Ellen nodded and reached for the wall phone behind her.
As she dialed the familiar number, Sam got up and approached Dean. He leaned in to whisper:
"You do know she's gonna come straight here, right?"
"Yeah." Dean let out a heavy breath. "Still worth a shot."
A minute later, Ellen was off the phone and announcing:
"Gunther knows. Jo's on her way over."
Sam sent Dean an 'I told you.' look and in return got a silent 'I know.'.
"What about Reggie?" Sam inquired.
"What about me?"
Reggie stood at the front door, shirt torn, dusty jeans ripped at the right knee. Her hips swayed dangerously as she crossed the bar and dropped her dirty duffle bag on the stool next to the youngest Winchester. The sly smirk she directed at him made him squirm, but what dug him in was her question:
"Miss me, Sammy?"
"Wha-No, -I mean, yeah- I mean, we all… um…"
"Reg, quit messin' with the boy."
"Spoilsport." She faked a pout, but conceded to Bobby's request.
Reggie backed away, affording Sam much needed breathing space. She was tiny compared to him, but she sure knew how to suck the air out of the room. Awkwardly, he straightened up in his seat, keeping his nervous gaze on her as she ambled about the room with catlike sloth.
"Where've you been?" Bobby demanded.
"Doin' my job." She answered, sizing up the only two males unidentified to her. "After getting rid of a nasty Poltergeist in Fremont…" Her eyes were on the older stranger as she spoke. "I was having a job well done drink in some half ass excuse for a bar…" Once she was done with John Doe number one, she began recon on number two. He was much younger, taller and leaner than the first. He had shaggy hair and was slouched over the counter, wearing the cutest, doe-eyed sulk she'd seen in years. This was gonna be fun.
"And?"
Dean's aggravated question put her back on track. She put on an instant plastic smile.
"Guess who I ran into?"
There was no reply from the audience, she didn't expect one either.
"Good old Dudley. Came in with a couple of his boys. One of them had on a bran-spankin'-new shiner." The way she was eyeing Dean, it was clear she knew more than she was letting on. "Anyway, good old Dudley told me somethin'."
The tension mounted until Reggie came to a halt. Spinning on her heels, she cocked an eyebrow and zeroed in on Sam:
"Any guesses?"
The stillness stretched on as the blonde hunter closed in on Sam.
"I hear you've done a very, very naughty thing, Sammy… That true?"
Sam's Adam's apple testified to his intense discomfort, bobbing a couple of times before he answered:
"It's true. I did it." And with a pounding heart, he waited for the inevitable look of disgust.
To his and everyone's surprise, Reggie remained unfazed, keeping perfectly still. Her blue eyes scrutinized every inch of his face and after what felt like an eternity she slanted her head sideways. Throwing him an unreadable double-eyebrow lift, she turned to Bobby, carrying on as if nothing had happened:
"So who are the newbies? I figure that one's the turncoat." She raised her chin at Luke who gave her a nod.
"Luke Dann."
"Regina Becker. Call me Reggie. What about you?"
Garrett straightened up immediately and sent her his best brash leer.
"Garrett Bailey. And what should I call you, honey?"
Dean rolled his eyes at the Texan's cheesy attempt at swagger.
"Sweetie, you… can call me mommy."
Sam couldn't help chuckling at the look on Garrett's face. Though Reggie's comeback had been amusing, Dean remained on point:
"So that it? You're not gonna have a hissy fit? Gang up on my brother?"
"I didn't exactly do a happy-jig when I found out. And I'm still not sure about this. But since the shit is going to hit the fan, I figure my best option is to stick with you guys." She paused before adding a pointed: "For now."
Reggie's swearing and the lack of scolding coming from Ellen bruised Garrett's ego further.
"Let me guess… She gets to curse 'cause she's Reggie?"
"Kid, I gave up on her a long time ago."
Reggie smiled, strolling towards a nearby table.
Amy faltered in her stride mid-staircase when she spotted the blonde strutting across the room. She was probably in her late twenties, but exuded a poise that went well beyond her years. Everything about her, from the way she moved to the raspy timber of her hoarse voice made her govern the attention of the group, especially the male members and… Amy checked… definitely Dean's. The idiot's slit eyes never left the woman's ass as she walked away from him. Instinctively, Amy fisted her hands at her side when she saw his tongue slip out to hastily wet his dry lips.
Unceremoniously, Reggie propped herself up to sit on the table, her legs dangling over the edge.
"Regina Becker, get your skinny ass off my table." Ellen bellowed. "We got plenty of chairs to go around."
Begrudgingly, Reggie did as she was told. Crossing her arms over her chest, she provoked Dean:
"So, what's the plan Obi-wan?"
"Obi-wan, really? I think I'm more of a Han Solo."
He was flirting! Amy suppressed a growl.
"Touché." Reggie had to give him that one.
"We should call everyone. See where we're at. Who's in, who's out?" Sam offered.
"I'm with Sam." Bobby agreed.
"I guess we better start dialing." Dean settled the issue.
"Ok, then. You ladies get to work. I'm gonna take a shower." Reggie declared picking up her duffle bag on her way to the stairs.
She slowed down when she came across an unfamiliar female coming in the opposite direction. Her hair was wet and the drenched locks were fastened high on the back of her head in a messy bun, emphasizing her long neck. She wore an orange, sleeveless, mid thigh wrap-dress and white satin mule pumps with a five inch heel.
Reggie didn't have to check to know that every man in the room was now gaping at her. After all, the woman was drop dead gorgeous.
Reggie smirked and giving her a once over questioned:
"And who's the belle of the ball?"
Lifting her chin and matching Reggie's dissecting gaze, Amy replied promptly:
"Amy Carrington."
The look of recognition came as a surprise to Amy. Reggie glanced over her shoulder at the group.
"She the doc?"
Ellen nodded.
"Well, well, sweet pea… don't you look like you just waltzed straight out of Grey's Anatomy's?"
"It's Amy. And I got my degree from Harvard Medical School, not ABC." She bit out.
"My bad doc, sorry." Reggie's apology sounded false as she turned her inspecting stare on Dean.
Very early on in her life, Reggie had figured out two things. One, if you get attached to someone, they can and will, at some point, hurt you. Ergo, her first rule was -never get attached, especially to men.
The second epiphany was knowing that being underestimated was a powerful thing and that the best way to achieve that, when you were a woman, was to project an image of an aloof, oversexed female. Add a pinch of crazy into the mix and you were sure to be dismissed by most people as a non-threatening 'piece of hot-ass'.
Sure, it bugged her that everyone thought she was nothing more than a horny bubblehead, but this persona afforded her the freedom she needed to move about without arousing suspicion and at the same time made it impossible for her to develop any kind long term relationship, even if she wanted. Because who falls for the town slut, right?
So this was her life and this was how she lived it. One day at a time, no strings attached. She behaved this way with everyone, and Dean Winchester was not an exception.
Over the last two months they'd struck an unspoken deal between them. It was pretty straightforward, really. She was a single woman, he was a single man and they shared two traits in common - they both loved sex and both had an innate inability to deal with emotion turmoil. Put those two together and it wasn't long before they became what Reggie called 'bump-buddies'.
And it worked… for a while. They kept it strictly about sex - no talking, no romantic entanglements. It was an easy, fun way of exorcizing their inner demons. But no matter how much she tried to act and think like a man, her true nature eventually betrayed her.
It had happened gradually and without her noticing, until one day it had come out to bite her in the ass. All of a sudden, she realized she knew and cared more about Dean Winchester than she needed to. She knew all his likes and dislikes and somewhere along the way she'd mastered the art of reading his tell signs. He didn't have to utter a word for her to know when he was happy, or sad, or when something was on his mind.
The final, terrifying straw had come one night when, instead of dragging herself out of his bed and into her own after a particularly successful sex-therapy session, she'd found herself rolling onto her side to stare at his slumbering shape. She'd lay there, shielded by the hues of night, until the first strings of sunlight had filtered in through the bedroom window.
Sensing she was in over her head, she'd decided to jump ship and cut her losses. She didn't speak or look at him for a whole week. That was until he'd cornered her in the basement and well… the inevitable happened… again… and again.
But it wasn't the same after that. Not for Reggie, at least. She'd become an expert in reading his body language and the image of the carefree, womanizing scoundrel was lost to her, replaced by a complex, troubled man.
No matter how fleeting, she could no longer ignore the moments when his stare would wander off into the distance and a heartbreaking look of sorrow would settle over his features. Those days, he'd always resort to the Impala as a way of escaping. He'd labor away silently under the hood of that car for a few hours and then he'd be back, cocky grin and sharp tongue; renewed.
She told herself it was a result of all the hardships he'd lived with his family. But the nagging feeling there was something else under the surface wouldn't let up. There was something beyond the pain and loss he'd gone through with his father, his brother…
Something else, turned out to be someone else when one day, at lunch, Bobby randomly brought up an acquaintance of theirs - some young doctor, down in Griffin, by the name of Amy Carrington. Reggie was never good with names, but this one was burned into her brain along with the look on Dean's face at the mere mention of her.
Now, standing in middle of Ellen's bar, staring at him, it all clocked into place for Reggie.
The signs were subtle, but they were there.
She saw it in his stance. His back had gone rigid and was perfectly aligned. She saw it in the nervous lump in the middle of his throat, wobbling up and down tensely while his fingers fussed and picked at the label of his beer bottle.
But nothing was more telling than his eyes. They were large, with an almost childlike awe, and utterly and completely fixed on one person - Amy. For Dean, there seemed to be no one else in the room but… her.
Reggie ignored the weight pressing down on her chest and bravely sent Dean a poignant look as she added:
"This explains a lot."
Dean shuffled his feet awkwardly.
Damn! Texas had taste after all.
He scanned his surroundings and, sure enough, with the exception of Bobby, every red blooded male in the room was staring at her, even Sammy. Judging from the way his gaze was bouncing off the walls, it was clear he was uncomfortable but, somehow, his eyes always seemed to land back on Amy's legs. Could he blame him?
If that dress was any shorter it would have to be relabeled as a belt. Looking at Amy, two thirds of her were legs and those things went on forever… long, luscious, milky white…
'Focus!'
Amy was too busy with Reggie to notice the shameless gawking headed her way. From the instant she'd set her sights on the newly arrived guest, she'd taken an immediate dislike to her. Factor in the Grey's Anatomy quip, the condescending pet name, the lopsided grin she was still sporting and the shameless Dean flirting and dislike was quickly morphing into an ill advised urge to slap this woman.
"Name's Reggie, by the way."
And with that she chasséd up the stairs. Once she was gone, Amy joined the rest of the group.
"Explains a lot? What did she mean by that?"
Dean refused to meet her inquiring frown and along with his brother buried his eyes in his drink when she took a seat next to Sammy.
"What was that?"
"That… was Reggie Becker." Bobby explained.
"Is she always this… delightful?" Amy wondered sardonically.
"Pretty much." Bobby informed.
"Great!" Amy threw a murderous sideways glance at Dean, who was now fascinated with the contents of his glass.
After a beat, Dean cracked under the pressure and without meeting her glower, blurted:
"How about we start cracking down on those phone numbers?"
Tensely, he picked up his drink and took off in the direction of the kitchen.
"He means us, right?" Garrett grumbled. "´Cause as far as I know… there ain't no phone in the kitchen."