Author's Note: Portions of this chapter rely on episode 10.02 Reichenbach, written by Andrew Dabb and directed by Thomas J. Wright and episode 10.03 Soul Survivor, written by Brad Buckner and Eugenie Ross-Leming and directed by Jensen Ackles. There may be minor dialogue changes and there are definitely spoilers. As always, reviews are appreciated.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The smoke filled the room, suffocating her, making it hard to breathe. She could hear Sam calling her name and she struggled to see him through the haze in the room.

"Sam!" Amie yelled. "Sam, where are you?"

Strong arms grabbed her from behind and she could just barely see the outline of the front entrance of the bar as they moved toward it. She was gasping for air as the smoke rapidly filled her lungs. They stopped moving for a second and Amie heard what sounded like the cuffs rattling before they were moving toward the door again. By the time she was shoved from the building, her eyes were watering and she was coughing. She felt herself being turned and then she was looking into Dean's eyes. She struggled to get away from him, her hands pushing against his chest, but his grip on her was like an iron vise.

Dean laughed at her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Before she could react further, he grabbed her wrist and slapped the cuff on it, then he dragged her to the chain link fence between the street and the parking lot and attached the other end of the cuff to it.

"God damn it, Dean!" she yelled. "Let me go!" She rattled the handcuffs, even though she knew it was useless and there was no way she would be able to pull free.

Dean leaned over her and pressed a kiss behind her ear. "I don't think so, baby," he growled, his mouth against hers. "I need to find out what's going on and you, well, you're a distraction." He cupped her face in his hands, pulled her to him and pressed a kiss to her lips. "But I'll be back," he said. And then he was gone.

Amie sighed and wiped at her still streaming eyes. She couldn't believe she'd been so stupid as to let Dean get the best of her. Not that she could have done anything when she was overcome by the smoke filling the room. And where the hell had that come from?

She yanked on the cuff attaching her to the fence. Sam had the only keys and she had nothing on her she could pick the lock with, her kit was in Sam's truck. She tried to see around the corner of the building, in the direction Dean had gone. She could hear voices, one of them obviously Dean's and the other one she didn't recognize. A few seconds later, she saw a guy dressed in black trying to attack Dean. She tugged on the cuffs again and nearly screamed in frustration.

"Amie?" she heard Sam yell.

"Sam," she called back. "I'm over here!" She could see him coming out of the front entrance to the bar, the same one her and Dean had come out just minutes earlier.

He hurried over to her, pulling the key to the handcuffs from his pocket as he did. As soon as he reached her, he unlocked them from the fence, freeing her.

"Come on," he ordered, pushing her toward the door, the cuff still dangling from her right wrist. He slipped the key into her hand as they ran, allowing her to remove the cuffs completely and hand them to him.

They ran through the bar and out the back door, stepping into the parking lot just as Dean was holding the First Blade to the throat of the guy she'd seen earlier. Amie moved to stop him, but Sam put a hand on her arm. He pulled his flask of holy water from his pocket and gestured her forward. They closed in on Dean, quietly. Once they were only a few steps away, Sam threw the holy water on his brother.

Dean flailed backwards, giving Sam a chance to slap the sigil etched cuff onto him. He struggled and fought, but Sam, with some help from Amie, was able to get the other cuff on him when Dean tried to grab his hand.

"Stop! It's over!" Sam shouted. "It's over!"

The glare Dean turned on Sam gave Amie chills. Knowing that Sam was at a disadvantage because of his shoulder, and that the cuffs would weaken Dean – to an extent anyway – she used every ounce of strength she had to grab Dean's arm and push him to the ground, her knee firmly planted in his back.

"Get his keys, Sam," she panted.

Sam reached into Dean's front pocket and yanked out Baby's keys, then he looked at Amie.

"You sure?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she answered. "Just hurry up, get the Impala."

Sam nodded before jogging across the lot to grab Dean's car.

"You know I love it when you take charge, baby," Dean snickered beneath her once his brother was out of ear shot. "This isn't going to end well, Amie. You and Sam, rushing in to supposedly save me. I don't want to be saved."

"Shut up," Amie whispered.

Dean laughed again. "Just wait, we'll see how this ends. It won't be pretty." He looked over his shoulder at her, his green eyes burning. "And when it's over, I will take you back and I will remind you exactly who you belong to. You won't be forgetting any time soon."

The anger at everything that had happened over the last six weeks suddenly pulsed through Amie, blacking out everything but Dean's snarling smirk and cocky voice. The next thing she knew, she was rearing back and punching Dean as hard as she could, right in the mouth. She felt his lips smash against his teeth as her fist connected with his face and she saw the faint trickle of blood slide down his chin. He just grinned at her, so she hit him again. She had just pulled her arm back to hit him again when the growl of the Impala's engine brought her back to reality. She released her grip on his arm and stood up, shoving him to the ground with her knee still resting between his shoulder blades.

She turned and stalked off as soon as Sam had parked the Impala and come to stand next to them. She slipped around the corner of the building, crouched down and put her head in her hands. She tried to breathe slowly, her eyes clenched shut, and every muscle in her body tense. She wasn't sure how much more she could take. The last few weeks had been unbearable, a roller coaster ride she hadn't wanted to be on. Her emotions had been yanked and jerked in more ways than she could count and it was getting harder and harder to function. The anger that had been building up in her since Dean had locked her in the trunk to go fight Metatron was at an apex and starting to consume her. At this point, Amie wasn't even sure she could control herself long enough to help Sam bring Dean back.

The sun was suddenly blocked out by a looming shadow and then Sam was crouching next to her, his hand on her shoulder.

"Hey," he said quietly. "You okay?"

Amie opened her eyes and looked at him. He looked as bad as she felt – dark smudges under his eyes, skin a haggard yellow color, pain and grief evident in his eyes. She tried to smile at him, but she was sure it came off as more of a grimace. "Yeah, I'm fine," she murmured.

Sam gave her a skeptical look, but he just nodded. "Let's take him home," he said.

Sam stood up and held out his hand. Amie took it and let him pull her to her feet. He hugged her briefly to his chest, then he pushed her in front of him toward the car.

"I called Crowley," Sam explained as they walked across the lot. "He'll be here in a few minutes to get the Blade." He sat on the hood of the car while Amie leaned against it, resting on her elbows.

"I'd rather not talk to him when he gets here," she said.

"Not a problem," Sam replied. "I totally understand. Are you okay waiting in the car with Dean?"

Amie turned and looked through the windshield at Dean. He smirked at her and winked obscenely. The cuts on his face from her punches had healed already.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," she answered, looking away.

Sam's phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket. He read whatever had appeared on the screen, then he leaned over and whispered 'He's here' in her ear. She patted him on the arm and gave him a quick hug before pulling open the Impala's door and dropping into the front seat. She braced herself, knowing that Dean wouldn't be able to keep quiet.

"You and Sam seem awful chummy," he snarled the second the door shut.

Jesus Christ, this was so not what she needed right now. Of all the things she'd thought he would say or do, being jealous of Sam was not one of them. She reminded herself that this wasn't Dean, it was a demon and the things he was saying were meant to upset her, to get a reaction out of her. She took a deep breath, then turned and glared at him. "Are you kidding me?" she muttered.

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

He wasn't going to get a reaction out of her though. She'd never had any kind of romantic feelings for Sam and Dean knew that. At least her Dean did. She decided to talk to him like he wasn't a demon. "You know that things aren't like that between Sam and me," she said. "He's like a brother to me. Besides, he has Shannon."

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

Amie rolled her eyes at him as she turned back around, but he was scaring her. She knew exactly what being reminded who she belonged to entailed and it both frightened and excited her. She heard Dean chuckle low in the back of his throat. It made her shiver.

Amie saw Crowley come around the corner of the building, striding purposefully toward Sam.

Dean must have noticed him as well. "What is he doing here?" he asked quietly.

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

"What?" he growled, the sound almost inhuman.

"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."

It was quiet for a few minutes as Sam handed the weapon over to Crowley. She could practically feel the hatred coming off of Dean in waves as he stared at Crowley.

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

Shocked, she turned her seat to look 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. That, at least, wasn't a lie. He'd let her go on her own accord. As for finding Dean, well that was another story.

"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. What difference did it make if she told Dean the truth or not? She was just too tired and dejected to deal with him anymore. "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 quietly. At least her Dean was worth it, more than he realized. She'd deal with the consequences of her deal with Crowley later, once Dean was himself again.

Suddenly, he leaning closer to her, as close as the handcuffs would allow him. "You know, I really did miss you when I was gone," he purred.

Amie entire body tensed, the anger and hurt rolling through her once again. She didn't believe him and the lies were starting to weigh on her. There was no way he'd missed her when he was so willing to bed another woman. "Mm-hm," she lashed out. "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."

She wasn't surprised that was his answer. He probably thought it was what she wanted to hear. "If that's supposed to make me feel better, it's not," she whispered so quietly she wasn't even sure Dean heard her. Before she could stop herself, she asked the one question she really didn't want the answer to. "How many were there, Dean? How many random women did you sleep with after you left the bunker?"

"Too many to count," Dean muttered. "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. She was desperately trying not to throw up, the waves of nausea were crashing over her with every word Dean said. She couldn't understand why she had asked the stupid question. Was she trying to torture herself?

She felt cold breath blowing against the side of her neck. "You know I could make it up to you," Dean hummed in her ear. "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 voice was low and sexy, a sound she usually couldn't resist. "We can forget about all this…crap…and leave. Just unlock the cuffs."

Amie stared at him. She couldn't believe he actually thought she might fall for that and let him go. "I can't," she mumbled, as she ran a hand through her hair, trying to hold it away from her face.

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

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 abruptly turned in her seat, facing him. "I just want you back," she whispered, the tears so close to the surface. "I don't care how long it takes, I'm willing to wait." She turned around and faced forward, not wanting him to see the tears slowly leaking from her eyes.

She heard Dean's low laughter coming from behind her. "Well, you're going to be waiting a long time, baby."

"Will you please just stay out of the dungeon, Amie?" Sam begged. "I won't be gone long."

"Sam, please," Amie grumbled.

Sam stepped closer to her, until he was right in her face. "Stay out of the dungeon," Sam said. "I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. You don't want you to be in there with him. You heard the things he was saying in the car and you saw how he acted in the bar. He's not human. I don't want to be worried about you the whole time I'm gone."

"I can handle him, Sam," Amie sputtered. "I spent three weeks with him and he never hurt me." She could tell that Sam knew she was lying as soon as she spoke.

"Bullshit," he said. "I know what happened." He looked pointedly at Shannon, then back at Amie.

Amie shot a dirty look at Shannon, who just shrugged and gave her a sheepish grin. She looked back at Sam. "I'll be fine," she said. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the younger Winchester. After a couple of seconds, Sam dropped his eyes.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Just…just be careful." He took Shannon's hand and pulled her up the stairs and out the heavy metal door, leaving Amie standing in the war room.

Sam was headed out to meet a priest, at a hospital, where he would acquire the purified blood necessary to cure Dean. Hopefully cure Dean. Unfortunately, they had no way of knowing if it would actually work, just Sam and Castiel's best guess.

Sam had tried to get Amie to go with him, to leave the bunker until Dean was human again. He was taking Shannon to a motel on the other side of town, just in case things went south, and he tried to get Amie to agree to go too. She'd politely refused, multiple times. She wasn't leaving Dean, not when they didn't know what would happen. She hadn't spent all this time looking for him or endured those three weeks with the demon side of him just to walk away when he needed her the most.

She glanced toward the stairs that led downstairs to the dungeon. There was really no reason to go down there, no reason to go see Dean. She should just stay upstairs and try to find something to get her mind off of the demon downstairs. Instead, she found her feet moving on their own toward the stairs. It wasn't long before she stood just outside the open door. She leaned against the wall, not sure if she wanted Dean to see her.

Apparently, he didn't have to see her to know she was there. "I know you're out there, Amie," he said quietly. "I told you, I can recognize those footsteps anywhere."

Amie stepped around the corner and into the room. Dean was tied to a chair in the middle of a devil's trap at the back of the room. He still had the cuffs on one wrist, the other side attached to the arm of the chair.

"You told me that when you were human," she said. "I didn't think you'd remember."

"I remember everything, baby," he murmured. "Everything." He stared into Amie's eyes, his green ones sparkling.

There was a moment of silence as they stared at each other. Not for the first time, Amie wished she knew what he was thinking. She looked away first, uncomfortable with the intense way he was looking at her.

He leaned to the right and looked behind her. "Where's Sammy?"

"Out," she shrugged. "He'll be back in a little while."

Dean smirked. "Off to get supplies for the cure, I'm sure." His smile widened. "So we're alone?" He chuckled, the sound low and dark, giving Amie goose bumps. "You should come over here. There's so much we could do, even with me tied to this chair. I've missed the feel of your body against mine. Let's remedy that." He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"Um, yeah, I don't think so," Amie responded. "Not when you're like this."

Dean leaned forward in the chair as far as the ropes would allow him. "You said that once before and changed your mind. You don't mean it."

Amie swallowed loudly. She had said that, not that long ago. At the time, she'd meant it, but she had changed her mind, albeit to try to save Dean. Which of course hadn't worked. It was also before she knew about the other women. That was a pain that was going to take some time to get past.

She took several steps farther into the room until she was standing between the bookshelves that normally hid this part of the room. "Oh, this time I mean it," she said. "And you couldn't have missed me that much when you were busy screwing random waitresses." She couldn't help the bitter, bitchy tone of her voice.

Dean smiled knowingly. "That's still bothering you? Time to move on, baby. I did."

Amie sat on the table just outside the trap and crossed her arms. She stared at Dean for several minutes, wondering if she would be able to move on and hoping she could. "I can't," she finally whispered. "I can't stop thinking about you and her, or you and the multitude of other women you fucked. But what I really can't stop thinking about is how my Dean never would have done that to me. That's what I can't stop thinking about."

Dean's face changed, his look becoming dark, his eyes hooded and angry. "When are you going to realize 'your Dean' is gone and he's not coming back?" he snarled. "I like what I've become. I don't want him back. And you know what else I don't want? I don't want to go back to the pathetic little love story we were playing out, the love story that meant so much to you. I'm done with it, done with you. It's over."

Amie nearly fell off of the table, she was so stunned. She nodded as she pushed herself off of the table and walked calmly past the shelves, pulling them closed behind her. She turned off the light and locked the door, moving slowly and with purpose. Once the door was shut and locked, she took off at a dead run, Dean's laughter following her down the hall and up the stairs, through the war room and library until she reached her room. She just managed to slam the door shut before her knees gave out and she hit the floor, a muffled sob falling from her lips.

It was three or four hours later that she heard the sound of footsteps roaming the hallways of the bunker. She had thought she wanted to get drunk, except she just wasn't in the mood to drink. So she had laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling sorry for herself. When she heard the knock at her door, she struggled to push herself to her feet. She shoved a hand through her hair, combing it with her fingers. There was another tap at the door, but she hesitated for another minute before she opened it to see Sam standing in front of her, a concerned look on his face.

"You okay?" he asked. "When you weren't in the library or war room, I thought for sure you'd be with Dean."

"I'm fine," Amie answered. "I needed a break."

Sam gave her a funny look, then held his good hand up, displaying the red cooler labeled Human Blood that he was carrying. "Got it," he said. "Are you ready for this?"

She wasn't sure she was ready, as a matter of fact, she knew she wasn't. But she was going to help, no matter what Dean said or did. She was just going to have to toughen up and deal with whatever happened. If things went well, she'd have Dean back soon. She didn't want to think about what would happen if things didn't go well.

"Yeah," she answered. "Let's go."

Amie followed Sam back to the dungeon, where he unlocked the door, turned on the light and pushed open the shelves she'd closed just a few hours ago.

Dean looked up as they walked in, eyeing the cooler in Sam's hand. "Really?" he muttered.

"For whatever it's worth, I got your blood type," Sam told him.

Dean's eyes danced over Amie as he turned his head away from his brother. "Sam, I know you think you're gonna try and fix me, but did it ever occur to you that maybe I don't want to be fixed? Just let me go live my life. I won't bother you. What do you care?"

Amie watched as Sam pulled the cap off of his flask of holy water. "What do I care?" Sam said, his eyes wide and unbelieving. She could tell he was still trying to reconcile Dean the demon with Dean his brother and it was not easy. She knew that, she'd lived it.

Sam splashed water over the devil's trap, the Latin rolling easily off of his tongue. Dean looked between her and Sam, the anger building in him, so thick she could practically see it in the air.

"You think I'm just gonna sit here like Crowley, getting all weepy while you shoot me up?" Dean snarled. "Well, screw that. I don't want this."

"Yeah, I pretty much figured that out," Sam replied.

"You don't even know if this is gonna work, do you?" Dean asked.

Amie leaned against the shelves, unable to do anything but watch the exchange between the brothers. She prayed Sam knew what he was doing.

"You know, I got a hell of a lot more running through me than just demon juice," Dean mumbled.

"Mark of Cain – got it," Sam replied. He turned around, a needle full of blood in his hand.

"That's right," the elder Winchester said. He watched Sam closely.

"Buckle up," Sam said quietly.

"Sammy, you know I hate shots," Dean murmured.

"I hate demons," Sam responded. He crossed into the devil's trap, moving toward the demon his brother had become. Dean snarled and snapped at him, his eyes going black. Sam splashed holy water in his face, causing Dean's skin to sizzle. While he was distracted, Sam plunged the needle into his forearm, forcing the blood into him. Dean groaned as the blood flowed into his body.

Sam backed out of the trap, his eyes never leaving Dean's face. "Look, we got a whole bunch more of these to go. You could make it a lot easier on yourself."

Suddenly, Dean grunted, jerking in his chair. He groaned and gagged, his face contorted in pain. Amie stepped away from the shelves, moving toward him, but Sam grabbed her arm and held her back, shaking his head. "Wait," he whispered.

She didn't realize she was holding her breath until Dean's head lolled forward onto his chest, and the painful groans stopped. When she tried to go to Dean again, Sam stopped her once more.

"No," he snapped. "You can't."

"But…Sam," she worried.

"Leave him, Amie," Sam said. "It takes time." He took another needle from the table, filled it with blood and jabbed it into Dean's arm, right by the Mark.

Amie cringed when Dean groaned as the blood flowed into him, his entire body tensing and straining against the ropes binding him to the chair. Every cord of muscle in his neck, every vein stood out as he struggled. He panted, his breath tearing in and out of his throat.

"For all you know, you could be killing me," he panted, glaring at Sam. He turned his pain-filled gaze on Amie. "And you…you're helping him."

She shook her head. She refused to believe that this was killing him. "We're helping you," she whispered.

"I don't think so, baby," he grunted. "I think you're killing me."

"Or you're just messing with us," Sam said. "Either way, the lore doesn't say anything about exceptions to the cure."

Dean chuckled. "The Lore. Hunters…Men of Letters. What a load of crap it all is." He looked around the room, his eyes dancing over Amie before settling on Sam once more. "Oh, you got nothin'?"

"You want me to debate you?" Sam asked. "This isn't even the real you I'm talking to."

"Oh, it's the real me alright," Dean said. "The new real me – the me that sees things for what they really are." He turned his attention to Amie. "Isn't that right, Amie? The new and improved Dean."

Sam shook his head and Amie could tell he was frustrated. But so could Dean, because he kept needling him.

"Winchesters – do-gooders – fighting the natural order," he said. "Let me tell you something – guys like me, we are the natural order. It's the way it was set up."

"Guys like me still got to do what we can," Sam argued.

"Don't be so full of yourself, Sammy," Dean said smugly. "'Cause, see, from where I'm sitting, there ain't much difference between what I turned into to what you already are."

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Sam asked.

"I know what you did when you went looking for me," Dean crooned slowly.

Amie saw Sam sit up straighter, his face changing subtly. He swallowed, then glanced at Amie. "Would you excuse us for a minute, Amie?"

"What?" she sputtered, confused.

Sam looked at her, his eyes wide and frightened. "I just need a few minutes with my brother," he said.

Amie pushed herself away from the wall, confused. She ran a hand through her hair, looking between Sam and Dean's faces – one unsure and scared, the other cocky and self-assured. She turned and left the room, the low rumble of Dean's voice fading behind her as she made her way to the kitchen.

She grabbed a couple of bottle of waters from the fridge before sitting at the table. A few minutes later, a deep, horrifying scream echoed through the bunker, startling her. She could her Dean yelling, though she couldn't tell what he was saying. She laid her head on the table and wrapped her arms around it, desperately trying to block out the sounds filtering through the walls. She stayed there for another five minutes or so before she couldn't stand it anymore. She took the waters and made her way back to the dungeon.

Sam was standing outside the door, his cell phone pressed to his ear. She showed him the water bottle in her hand, but he shook his head at her.

"Cas?" he said, his attention drawn back to his phone.

Amie stepped around him and walked into the dungeon, not wanting to interrupt him while he talked to the angel on the phone. Besides, she needed to see Dean for herself, make sure he was still alive.

Dean was breathing heavily, his head swiveling awkwardly on his neck. He stared at the ceiling for a brief second before looking at Amie.

"What are you still doing here?" he grumbled.

"I won't leave you," she told him.

"Why? Because you love me so much?" Dean snorted.

"Dean…" she sighed.

"What?" Dean snapped. "I don't want you here. Are you hanging around waiting for me to die so you can play the sad, mourning girlfriend? Play it up for sympathy so everybody feels sorry for you?" He leaned forward, anger flooding his face. "If I die, you can run away again, just like you did after Mary Grace died."

Amie recoiled, taking a step back, the words cutting into her like a knife.

"What?" Dean growled. "It's true, you walked away, left everybody you supposedly cared about behind. Shit, I'm surprised you hung around after what happened to me. Guess you must have cared a little more about me than you did our daughter."

"You're just trying to hurt me," she whispered.

"No," Dean retorted. "The truth is hurting you." He sat back in his chair and looked away, grimacing in pain.

Amie set the water bottles on one of the shelves, then she turned and walked back out of the room. She couldn't stay in there, not with him tearing her apart piece by piece.

"I'll, uh, I'll leave the entry unlocked for you. Just hurry," she heard Sam say as she passed him. He reached his arm out to stop her, but she shrugged him off. The stupid tears were coming again.

"I can't Sam," she mumbled. "Call me if you need anything." She hurried back down the hall, tears clouding her vision, not even sure where she was going.

She found herself in the library, probably one of her favorite places in the bunker. The smell of dusty, old books surrounded her, the knowledge collected over God-only-knew-how-many years was piled in every available corner, and the safety and sanctity of the bunkers walls and wardings was everywhere. Sam's books on demonic possession were still spread across the tables, files were open on every available surface. She dropped into the nearest chair and rifled through one of the books in front of her, but she closed it almost immediately, stood back up and wandered the length of the table, running her hands over the books lying all over the place.

She was about to sit down again, maybe try and find something that would help with this cure, when she heard another inhuman snarl, followed by painful groaning, coming from the dungeon. She sighed, not sure she could listen to Dean in pain anymore.

Amie glanced around, rocking back and forth on the tips of her toes, unable to be still any longer. She knew she couldn't sit down, the nervous energy was running through her, pushing her to move. Decision made, she hurried down the hall to her room where she changed into a tank top and a pair of shorts, and then she grabbed her iPod before taking herself upstairs to the garage. She yanked her too long hair into a high ponytail on the top of her head as she jogged up the stairs. She threw the switch that turned on the lights, stopping to admire the various vehicles parked there. She'd always loved the garage, especially now. It reminded her of better times. She walked over to the punching bag hanging from the ceiling in the corner, slipping her headphones into her ears and turning the music on as loud as she could handle it. She set her feet and went to work, her punches building in strength with every one she threw. Time slipped away from her as she let herself get lost in the workout, her punches landing in time to the music pouring into her ears.

She beat the shit out of the punching bag until her hands were stinging, her arms were heavy and the sweat was running down her body. When she finally stopped, grasping the top of the bag as she leaned against it, her heart was racing and her breath was tearing in and out of her throat. She grabbed a towel from the chair in the corner to wipe of her face, trying to decide if she should return to the dungeon or wait things out here. She pulled the headphones from her ears and wrapped them around the iPod. She bent down to untie her shoes, thinking she would clean up in the bunker's main shower room, when the lights went out and the alarm started to blare. The emergency lights flooded the garage, bathing everything in blood red light.

"Shit," she muttered as she turned and ran for the stairs. This couldn't mean anything good. She didn't have a weapon or anything in the garage with her. She needed to get to her room.

As quietly as possible, Amie slipped down the stairs, moving down the hall toward her room. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks that she was wearing her lightweight running shoes so she could move stealthily without drawing attention to herself.

She was wondering what the hell had happened and where Sam was when she heard Dean's voice floating through the hallways.

"Smart, Sam. Locking the place down," she heard him yell. "Doors won't open. I get it. But here's the thing. I don't want to leave. Not till I find you."

Amie could tell Dean was moving through the halls as he spoke, but the dark, combined with the flashing red lights and blaring alarm was messing with her senses, so she wasn't sure exactly where he was. She pushed herself against the wall, moving slowly. Her room was just around the corner. She took two tentative steps forward, pausing to glance behind her every so often and listening for telltale footsteps moving toward her. When she didn't hear anything, she continued moving, sliding around the corner, directly into a hard body.

"Hey, baby," Dean whispered.

She would have screamed, but Dean clamped his cold hand over her mouth. He wrapped his other arm around her waist. She looked down to see a large hammer clasped in the hand he had around her waist.

"Shhh," he hissed, his lips pressed to her ear. He tightened his grip on her and dragged her with him through the library and into the war room.

"Sammy," he yelled as they moved through the rooms. "You're just making this worse for yourself, man! Oh, by the way, you can, uh…blame yourself for me getting loose. All that blood you pumped into me to make me human – well…." Dean chuckled darkly. "The less demon I was, the less the cuffs worked. And that devil's trap – well, I just walked right across it. It smarted. But still…."

Amie struggled in his arms, but his grip was like iron, even with the distraction of looking for Sam. He took his hand from her mouth long enough to open the top drawer of one of the cabinets in the war room.

"Sam!" she screamed.

Dean chuckled again. "Oh, baby, he's not going to answer. He doesn't want to give away where he's hiding." He dropped his lips to her neck, nibbling softly up her neck until he reached her ear and pulled the lobe into his mouth, sucking it gently. Amie shivered uncontrollably.

He picked her up like she was nothing, carrying her with one arm as he walked the bunker halls. He carried her effortlessly until they reached the electrical room, then he set her down and took her arm, pulling her through the door with him. She tripped as he yanked her down the stairs behind him, falling briefly to her knees. He pulled her to her feet and shoved her in front of him into the open cage where the electrical box was located. When he released her to flip the power switch, Amie turned to run. Dean's hand shot out and grabbed her ponytail, using it to yank her back toward him. Disoriented, her feet tangled together, and her head slammed into the corner of one of the electrical boxes, hard.

Amie's hand immediately went to the spot on her head where it had connected with the wall. It came away wet and sticky with blood. She took a step toward Dean, but her vision narrowed to a tunnel of black and then she was going down. The last thing she saw was the floor rushing toward her face.