Author's Note: Portions of this chapter rely on episode 10.02 Reichenbach, written by Andrew Dabb and directed by Thomas J. Wright. There are spoilers.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Dean sat at the piano in the bar. Everyone was gone, it was just him and the bartender, and his perpetually full glass of whiskey. Crowley had packed up his lackeys and vanished into the late afternoon sun. Dean didn't really care. In fact, good riddance.

He ran his fingers over the keys, the notes the only sound in the empty bar. He pulled the First Blade out, sliced it through his open palm, and then he watched as it immediately healed. He kept hearing Crowley's voice in his head, telling him to pick a side – human or demon. Which was ridiculous, he didn't need to pick a side. He was a demon – black eyes, couldn't die, he couldn't even get hurt. Didn't matter what Crowley said, he'd killed Lester because he was a douche, not because he felt sorry for the wife. So what if he'd left her alive, she'd get hers soon enough, one way or another.

Dean heard him before he saw him, the quiet, stealthy footsteps he'd heard walking behind him for years coming through the door.

"Hiya Sam," he said looking up into the face of his little brother.

There was nothing but silence from the younger Winchester. Dean looked over at the bartender. "Hey Harv, why don't you go grab a smoke?" he suggested. Harv quickly complied with his request, dropping his rag to the counter and leaving. Sam watched him go over his shoulder.

"Who winged you?" Dean asked.

"Does it matter?" Sam replied.

"Not really," Dean said, shaking his head. It really didn't matter, he didn't care. "I told you to let me go."

"You know I can't do that," Sam told him. He took several steps toward his brother. "By the way, your, uh, pal, Crowley…sold you out."

"Sounds like him," Dean answered. He stood up from the piano, his empty glass in one hand, the First Blade in the other. He must have made Sam nervous, because he put his hands up, and followed Dean with his eyes.

"Dean, hold on a second," Sam said. "You don't have to do this." He turned, continuing to watch Dean as he walked past him toward the bar. "Look, we know how to cure demons. You remember that?"

"Little Latin, lot of blood," Dean offered. "It rings a bell."

Before either Dean or Sam could say anything else, the bar door opened. Dean watched closely as Amie walked towards him, stopping just a couple of feet away, placing herself between the brothers.

"Hey baby," he said, eyeing her up and down appreciatively. She was wearing her typical hunter garb – jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket and those goddamn high-heeled boots that made her legs look amazing. He took a deep breath, inhaling her scent as it wafted toward him on the breeze from the closing door. "How ya been?"

Amie shrugged. "Been better," she murmured. "You?"

Dean chuckled. "That's a loaded question." He stepped closer to her, so they were only about a foot apart. "I've missed you," he purred. "I haven't had good sex since I left you."

Amie visibly swallowed and crossed her arms over her chest, a move Dean recognized as her instinctively trying to protect herself. "Not even with Anne Marie?" she asked quietly, the hurt evident in her voice.

Surprised, he stepped back from her. "You know about that?" he inquired.

She nodded, her lips drawn together in a tight line. "Yeah, yeah I do," she whispered. She closed her eyes. "You should listen to Sam.

Dean turned back toward the bar, away from Amie. "Did you ever stop to think that if I wanted to be cured, I wouldn't have bailed?" he asked.

"That was Crowley," Sam insisted.

"It really wasn't," Dean smiled as he grabbed the bottle from behind the bar and refilled his drink. He leaned on the bar, drink in hand, just watching Amie and Sam.

"It doesn't matter, all right?" Sam said as he walked toward his brother. "'Cause whatever went down, whatever happened, we will fix it."

"Will we?" Dean asked skeptically. "'Cause right now I'm doing all I can not to come over there and rip your throat out…with my teeth. I'm giving you a chance Sam. You should take it."

For a moment, Sam looked flustered and unsure, but then Dean could see the resolve taking hold. He straightened his shoulders and glanced at Amie. "I'm gonna have to pass," he said.

Which was exactly what Dean had expected from his brother. Stubborn until the end. Too bad it was going to come so soon. He still wasn't sure what he was going to do with Amie, but he could figure that out later. After he was done with Sam.

"Well, I'm not walking out that door with you," Dean said. "I'm just not. So what are you gonna do? Are you gonna kill me?" He took a drink from his glass as watched Sam.

"No," Sam murmured, shaking his head.

"Why? You don't know what I've done," Dean told him.

"Dean," Amie whispered, taking a step towards him. "It doesn't mat…."

"I might have it coming," Dean interrupted her.

"Well, I don't care," Sam interjected. "Because you are my brother. And I'm here to take you home."

Dean laughed, the words coming from Sam's mouth were ridiculous at best. "Hm. Ah!" He refilled his drink yet again, laughing. "'You're my brother and I'm here to take you home.' Yeah, what is this, a Lifetime movie? Huh? With your puppy dog eyes." He laughed again, the thought of Sam taking him home struck him as amusing. Home was a hole-in-the-ground panic room built by a bunch of old dead guys. He didn't have a home. "Oh, thanks, Sammy, I needed that." He tipped back his glass, downing the remainder of the whiskey.

Sam looked at Amie, who nodded. He pulled a set of cuffs from his pocket. Dean recognized them as the ones they used to hold Crowley in the dungeon, the ones covered with spells. Yeah, like he was going to voluntarily put those on. And it would be a cold day in Hell before he let Sam or Amie put those things on him.

"You really think those are gonna work?" Dean asked calmly.

"There's one way to find out," Sam said. He moved toward Dean, cuffs in hand.

The glass breaking startled both Sam and Amie, though Dean didn't even flinch. Smoke filled the room, spreading rapidly. Dean could hear coughing and the sound of the cuffs hitting the ground, along with crashing sounds, bodies hitting chairs, and chairs hitting the floor. Sam was moving one direction across the room, Amie was going the other. He could hear Sam yelling Amie's name, trying to locate her in the smoke-filled room, then Amie calling out Sam's name. Dean made a split second decision.

His arms slipped around Amie's waist, pulling her tight against him. He scooped the cuffs off of the floor, then he hurried through the bar to the front door, the smoke not bothering him, though he knew it was affecting her – he could hear her desperate gasps for air. He shoved her out the door in front of him, then he turned Amie in his arms to look at her. Her eyes were watering and her chest was heaving as she coughed. Once she realized who was holding her, she began to struggle, trying to break free. He chuckled, dropped a kiss to her forehead, then he slapped the cuffs on her right wrist, dragged her to the chain link fence between the street and the parking lot, and hooked the other end of the cuffs to the fence.

"God damn it, Dean!" she yelled. "Let me go!" She rattled the handcuffs, trying to pull free.

Dean leaned down and pressed a kiss to the soft skin behind her ear, then he moved to her ear. "I don't think so, baby," he growled. "I need to find out what's going on and you, well, you're a distraction." He slid his lips down her jaw to her mouth, where he kissed her soundly. "But I'll be back."

The cuffs were uncomfortable, almost burning, like that damn holy water Sam had thrown on him. He was in the backseat of the Impala, cuffed to the door. Sam and Amie stood outside, waiting for someone. His eyes were drawn to Amie, who stood on the passenger side of the car, leaning on her elbows, propped on the hood of the car, talking to Sam. Dean watched her – the sun glinted off of the faint blonde highlights in her hair, it illuminated her pale, ivory skin and put a glow in her cheeks. He couldn't help but admire her subtle beauty. He'd forgotten that about her, the way her beauty could take someone by surprise because everything else about her overshadowed it. He also couldn't help but think of all of the things he could do to her as she stood there leaning against his car. As if sensing his thoughts, she turned to look at him. He grinned and winked at her.

Sam pulled his phone from his pocket, then leaned over and whispered something in Amie's ear. She patted Sam on the arm, gave him a quick hug, then she pulled open the Impala's door, dropping into the front seat and closing the door with a loud clunking sound.

"You and Sam seem awful chummy," Dean snapped angrily.

Amie turned and glared at him. "Are you kidding me?" she muttered.

"Well, baby brother always thought you were hot," Dean continued. "Probably saw his chance to move in since I was out of the picture."

"You know that things aren't like that between Sam and me," she said. "He's like a brother to me."

"Yeah, well, I might just have to remind him exactly who you belong to," Dean snarled. "You might need reminding too."

Amie rolled her eyes at him as she turned back around, but Dean could feel her fear. He chuckled low in the back of his throat and was rewarded with a shiver from the female hunter.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean could see Crowley come around the corner of the building. "What is he doing here?" Dean asked quietly.

"Getting his payment for telling us where to find you," Amie explained.

"What?" he growled.

"We had to agree to give him the First Blade so he would tell us where you were," she continued. "He's here to get it."

Dean stared through the windshield, watching as Sam handed the First Blade over to Crowley. "What are you gonna do with it?" he heard Sam ask.

He glowered at them as they spoke, wishing they would spontaneously combust merely from his thoughts alone. They were both going to pay for this; Crowley wasn't wrong when he said Dean had a tendency to hold a grudge. As he watched, Crowley looked through the car's windshield, his eyes lingering on Amie. Realization dawned as Dean saw the hungry look in the King of Hell's eyes as he looked at the female hunter.

"He let you go, didn't he?" Dean growled.

Amie turned in her seat to stare at him. "What did you say?" she asked.

"Crowley let you go," he stated matter-of-factly. "You were distracting me and he let you go. What did you have to promise him?"

"Nothing," she replied.

"Bullshit," Dean snapped. "He always wants something. What did you have to promise him?"

"He just let me go," Amie said. "But…."

"But what?" Dean prodded.

Amie sighed, a tired, dejected sound. "But I did have to promise him a favor so he would tell us where you were."

"You made a deal with the King of Hell?" Dean asked incredulously. "What is it?"

"Just a favor, that's all," she answered. "If he needs my help…."

"You're screwed," Dean interrupted. "Probably literally. He wants you and he will use this to get you. Dumb move, baby. I'm not worth it."

"Yes, you are," Amie said so quietly he almost didn't hear her.

Dean grinned, pleased that despite everything that had happened, Amie still cared enough to want to save him. "You know, I really did miss you when I was gone," Dean murmured, leaning toward her.

Amie noticeably tensed, a look of disbelief crossing her face. "Mm-hm," she said. "You missed me so much you were fucking waitresses you picked up at the shitty bars you were hanging out at."

"Anne Marie? She didn't mean anything," Dean scoffed. "It was nothing."

"If that's supposed to make me feel better, it's not," she whispered so quietly Dean barely heard her. "How many were there, Dean? How many random women did you sleep with after you left the bunker?"

"Too many to count," Dean shrugged. "Doesn't matter, they were nothing, just women who'd open their legs for a good-looking guy. I took advantage of that."

"Not helping," Amie mumbled.

"You know I could make it up to you," he hummed. "Unlock the cuffs, I'll take care of Sam and Crowley and we'll leave. I'll take you somewhere, just you and me." Dean dropped his voice another octave, low and sexy, just like he knew she liked. She'd never been able to resist him when he used it. "We can forget about all this…crap…and leave. Just unlock the cuffs."

Amie stared at him, her blue eyes wide and unbelieving. "I can't," she mumbled, running a hand through her hair, holding it away from her face.

"More like won't. Look, I'll even tell you that I love you if you want me to," he said, sitting back against the seat, a smirk on his face.

She leaned her head against the window, staring into Dean's eyes. "I don't want to be told a bunch of lies. I've had enough lies to last me a lifetime," she snapped. Amie turned in her seat, facing him completely. "I just want you back," she told him. "I don't care how long it takes, I'm willing to wait." She turned back around and faced forward, a loud sigh falling from her lips.

Dean chuckled. "Well, you're going to be waiting a long time, baby."

They were interrupted by Sam opening the door and sliding into the passenger seat. He started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. They drove in silence as the light bled out of the sky, the dark creeping in inch by inch.

"This thing is filthy," Sam said, grimacing as he noticed the trash spread around the car.

"It's just a car, Sam," Dean grumbled.

"It?" Amie repeated. "Did you just call your car 'it'?" She ran her hand over the dust and trash scattered over the dashboard. She mumbled something under her breath and Dean thought it sounded like 'poor Baby'.

"It's just a…car," Sam said, dumbfounded. "Wow. You really have gone dark."

"You have no idea," Dean scoffed. He could see Sam watching him in the rearview mirror.

"You know what, Dean?" his brother said. "I saw what happened back there. You could have killed that guy, and you didn't. You took mercy on him."

"You call that mercy?" Dean asked. "Imagine spending your whole life hunting down the guy that knifed your father. When you finally find him…he whips you like a dog." He chuckled, staring at the side of Sam's face, watching his reaction. "How do you think that feels? That kids gonna spend his whole life knowing that he had his shot and he couldn't beat me. That ain't mercy. That's the worst thing I could have done to him. And what I'm gonna do to you, Sammy…. Well, that ain't gonna be mercy either."

Author's Note #2: I know this chapter was short, sorry! They get longer after this one!