Chapter Thirty-Six

Dean unlocked the room to the motel, flipping on the light switch by the door. He kicked the door shut with his foot and threw his bags on the floor. He dropped the bag from the fast food restaurant on the table. He was more than ready for this day to be over, it had been a long one. He wanted a cold shower and some sleep, though he didn't think the latter would come easily.

Amie was settled at the luxury hotel that the reporters were staying at, the Four Seasons in downtown St. Louis. A meet and greet had been arranged there for the reporters, Boyle and his entourage. Dean had dropped her off an hour ago, but he had hung around for a while, waiting to make sure she was alright and everything went off without a hitch. Kevin had created a new identity for her, including a new driver's license and credit cards. When they had left the bunker, he had been building her an online presence. She'd spent most of the eight hour drive to St. Louis memorizing everything she could about Amber Johnson, reporter for Free Will Christian Life magazine. By the time they reached the hotel, she had completely slipped into the persona, including a slight southern accent.

Dean had parked on a side street near the Four Seasons, then gone around to the passenger side and helped Amie out of the car. He'd immediately pulled her into his arms. "Promise me you will not turn off your phone or let it die. I need to be able to get in touch with you at all times. Promise?" he had practically begged.

Amie had smiled at him. "I promise." She'd put a hand to his face, kissing him gently. "I love you."

He'd returned her kiss, not wanting it to end. When it finally did, he'd rested his forehead on hers. "I love you, too," he'd whispered. "Be careful." Watching her walk away without him had been like torture, especially since he knew it would be at least three days before she was anywhere near him again.

Now he was stuck here in a crappy motel room, doing his least favorite thing—waiting. Sam and Cas wouldn't arrive for several more hours. Amie wasn't due to check in with him until later, after the meet and greet with Reverend Boyle was over. Dean had time to kill. He needed to find something to do or he would sit here and worry about Amie. Or think about all the things he'd been trying to do with her every time Cas had interrupted them back at the bunker. Which was actually the reason he felt like he needed a cold shower.

He pulled his laptop out of his bag. He would check the reporter's agenda posted on Boyle's website so he could try to formulate some kind of plan for keeping an eye on Amie. He wanted to stay as close as possible without alerting any angels to his presence.

He'd been working for more than an hour, his thoughts and ideas scribbled across several sheets of motel stationary, when his phone vibrated across the table. It was a text message from Amie: "Back in my room. Boyle's an ass. Met Bartholomew, he's a bit scary."

Dean sent her a message back: "Can you call me?"

Thirty seconds later, his phone vibrated again. "Hey, baby," he murmured as he answered it. "Scary, huh? Describe him to me."

"Let's see, he's as tall as you, blonde hair, blue eyes, about my age. Handsome. He's just, I don't know, intimidating. He always has this grin on his face, but underneath it you feel like he's figuring out ways to kill you." Amie replied. "He definitely made me nervous."

Dean sat back in his chair, eyes closed, picturing the angel as Amie described him. "Okay, what about Boyle?"

Amie sighed. "Boyle's a jerk. Egotistical, full of himself, has that holier-than-thou attitude that's probably pretty typical of most televangelists. Except when he's around Bartholomew. Then he just seems scared. I get the distinct impression that Bartholomew tells him what to do."

"Do you think Sam's right? Are they hoping that the publicity will get them more choices for vessels?" Dean asked.

"Definitely," she replied. "All of the reporters are from some kind of religious publication, blog or television show and every single one of them was falling over their feet to impress Boyle. He made some speech about how he hoped with our help he could bring more people to the flock, get more people saying yes to the angels. Not saying yes to God mind you, he wants them saying yes to angels. I thought they were all going to wet their pants with excitement. Very religious, righteous people." She laughed. "I felt totally out of place."

Dean smiled at the sound of her laughter. "Hmm, I bet you did," he chuckled. He heard rustling sounds through the phone. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Changing," Amie said matter-of-factly. "My feet are killing me and I've had enough of this tight skirt. I need to get out of these clothes. You know I'm not much for skirts and dresses. I prefer my jeans." She paused for a second. "Or nothing."

Dean groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. He could picture her in his head, shedding her clothes with the phone tucked between her shoulder and chin. "You're killing me, baby, literally killing me."

Amie dropped her voice to a low, breathy whisper. "Oh, really. Why don't you describe to me how I am doing that?"

"Oh no, I am not going there," Dean laughed. "I'll end up over there knocking down your door at that fancy hotel and showing you."

"Well now, honey, that would be extremely bad for Miss Amber Johnson's reputation," Amie said, her voice slipping into a southern accent. "Y'all know she's a virgin and very chaste. Sex is disgusting."

Dean laughed again, Amie joining him. "Go get some sleep. Call me in the morning." He hung up the phone and tossed it on the table. He decided it was time for that cold shower.

Dean set his coffee cup down and shoved the papers he'd been writing on across the table. "This is the itinerary for the day. Our best bet is that rally later at the Arch or the fundraiser tonight."

Sam picked up the papers as he continued eating. "I think you're right. It'll be a lot easier for us to stay out of sight at the Arch though. Did Amie say where the reporters are going to be?"

"She said offstage, in a special reserved area next to it. She's going to try to sneak off for a few minutes, try to find us," Dean explained. "And the fundraiser tonight is the last chance to see if we can find anything. That will be harder to get into, it's at Boyle's church."

They had been in St. Louis for three days, watching and waiting for something to turn up. Amie had been with Boyle the entire time. She was positive that he was looking to add followers to expand Bartholomew's vessel choices, but that was all she had discovered. She couldn't find anything about the spell involving Cas or if Bartholomew even knew it existed. Today was the last day the reporters were going to be with the reverend, so they were scrambling to find something.

"Cas, you heard anything from Katarina?" Dean asked. Castiel didn't answer, he was staring out the motel window, a far-off look on his face. "Earth to Cas, did you hear from Katarina yet?"

Castiel turned to look at Dean. "No, nothing. I am getting quite concerned. I have not talked to her in two days."

Celine Dion's My Heart Will Go On started playing from Dean's phone. Sam laughed. "I thought you were going to change that?" he asked his brother, a smug look on his face.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Dammit, I did! Did you change it back again?" Sam laughed again as Dean grabbed his phone and answered it. "Hey baby, what's up?"

He spent several minutes on the phone with Amie, letting her know where they would be during the rally, checking to make sure she was doing okay. He was getting anxious. It had been three days since he had seen her from anything other than a distance, three days since he'd touched her, kissed her, been in the same room as her. This job couldn't end soon enough.

Dean wrapped up the phone call with Amie, thankful that in less than twelve hours she would be back with him. Sam had gone to take a shower while he was talking to her, but Castiel had not moved from his spot by the window.

"You okay, Cas?" he asked, dropping to the bed and swinging his feet up as he leaned against the headboard. "You've been awful quiet."

"I am just concerned that I have not heard from Katarina. Has Amie seen her with Bartholomew?" Castiel asked.

Dean shrugged. "Not that she's said. Yesterday when we talked in the morning, she mentioned that she'd overheard one of Boyle's people say her name, but she still hasn't seen her. If we get a chance to talk to Amie at the rally, we'll ask her if she's seen or heard anything about her. She said they're going to Boyle's church this morning to look around prior to the fundraiser tonight. He wants to show them the TV set-up when there aren't a hundred or more people around. She's going to try to get alone and take a look around. Maybe she'll see or hear something about Katarina while she's there."

Castiel turned from the window. "I am sure she is fine. I am probably worrying for nothing." He crossed the room to stand in front of Dean. "How is Amie doing?"

"She's fine, I guess," Dean answered. "Why do you ask?"

"You seem on edge," Castiel replied. "I thought maybe there was a problem."

"No, there isn't a problem. I just don't like this job. I don't like her alone, possibly in danger, where I can't protect her. She seems to be fine, but I'm not sure she'd tell me if there was a problem. She knows how much I worry about her."

"Is it because you are in love with her?" Castiel asked.

Dean took a deep breath. Always with the straight-forward, pull-no-punches questions. "What do you think, Cas? Do I act like someone in love?" He really didn't feel like discussing his love life with a socially awkward former angel.

Castiel burst out laughing, which was not what Dean had expected. "I don't know, Dean. I'm not sure how someone in love acts. I do know when you are with her, you have to be touching her, even if it's just your hand on her waist or her leg or her arm. You watch every move she makes. If she isn't in the room, you watch the door, waiting for her to come in. When your phone rings and it is her, you get a funny smile on your face and you hurry to answer it. And you worry about her like I've only ever seen you worry about Sam. Is that how someone in love acts?" Cas paused for a minute before continuing. "But why do you love her, Dean? What is it about this one woman that has changed you?"

Dean stood up and moved across the room to the table. It made him uncomfortable that Cas was so observant and had noticed those things about him. And he wasn't about to tell Cas the answer to those questions. He grabbed his car keys and jacket. "I don't know Cas, you figure it out. I'll be in the car. Come downstairs when Sam is ready."

He sat in the car, music up loud, head resting against the seat, eyes closed, waiting for Sam and Cas. He hoped that it would be clear that he was not in the mood to talk. He was really tired of everybody wanting him to discuss his feelings for Amie—first Sam, now Castiel. He didn't understand why it was such a big deal. It would make his life a lot easier if they would all leave him alone. It was bad enough that he had to talk to Amie about his feelings, but he didn't need his brother and best friend bugging him about it, too. Why couldn't people just accept that he felt the way he felt and move the hell on? Dean didn't feel the need to psychoanalyze the only decent thing he had in his life, so why did everyone else?

Dean's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the Impala's passenger door opening. No one said a word as they got in, thank God. Once they were in the car, Dean made the short drive to the Arch. He wanted them in place before Boyle and his people arrived.

Dean situated himself on a park bench two hundred yards from the small stage. He was trying to figure out the best place to watch the rally when a white passenger van pulled up to the curb. As soon as the doors opened and people started stepping out, he knew it was the reporters travelling with Boyle. He immediately sat up straighter, looking for Amie.

She was one of the last ones to step out of the van. She was followed closely by a tall blonde man. It had to be Bartholomew, he definitely matched the description Amie had given to Dean. The man grabbed Amie's arm, pulling her close to say something. She smiled a small smile, though Dean could tell by her body language that she was very uncomfortable. The look on her face put him on alert, his fists clenched at his side. She pulled away and looked around the park, her eyes taking in everything at once. Dean saw her eyes slide over him, then quickly move back again. Relief washed over her face. He gave her a quick smile before he moved out of sight.

Dean watched Amie cross the park to the stage where Boyle was setting up, Bartholomew still holding her arm. She joined a group of people sitting to the left of the stage. She said something to the man at her elbow, her smile tight. He nodded at her and stepped away. She pulled out her phone and just seconds later, Dean's phone vibrated.

"I need to talk to you. Now." the message from Amie read.

Dean sent her a message back. "There are some bathrooms behind the stage, meet me there in 5 minutes."

"Okay, wait inside for me," she replied.

He moved around the perimeter of the park until he was directly behind the bathrooms. He waited until he couldn't see anyone, then he slipped into the women's restroom. He leaned against the wall to wait for Amie, his heart pounding in anticipation.

As soon as she opened the door, Dean grabbed her hand and pulled her all the way into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. He pressed her against the wall, his hands burying themselves in her hair, his lips finding hers. It had been too long since he had been able to touch her and there was no way he was waiting another second.

"Hey baby," he murmured, hugging her to his chest.

"Hey," she whispered, her hands clutching his jacket. "God, I've missed you."

"Mm, I know exactly how you feel," he said. He ran his hands up and down her arms. When he leaned in to kiss her again, she stopped him with a hand to the chest.

"I only have a minute, Dean," she said. "Bartholomew sent someone with me. He's waiting outside."

Dean took a step back, his face shocked. "What? Why?"

Amie ran a hand through her hair, then looked at her watch. "I don't know why, but he's taken a special interest in me. He pulled me aside during the tour this morning and asked me to stay longer than the other reporters. He said it was to do a more in-depth story on Boyle, but when I asked him if I could think about it and discuss it with my editor, maybe get back to him in a couple of days, he got kind of weird. I tried asking him some questions about what exactly he wanted from me, but he got really evasive and wouldn't give me a straight answer. Ever since, I've had a constant shadow. He won't leave me alone. If he's not attached to me, he's got one of his flunkies following me around."

Anger was working its way through Dean, forcing every other thought out of his head. He closed his eyes, trying to focus. "Well, it'll be over in less than twelve hours. After the fundraiser, we can get you away from him and we won't have to worry about it."

"No, Dean," Amie interrupted him. "You don't understand. I don't think Bartholomew is going to let me leave."