Author's Note: A small portion of this chapter relies on episode 10.03 Soul Survivor, written by Brad Buckner and Eugenie Ross-Leming and directed by Jensen Ackles. Other portions of this chapter rely heavily on 10.04 Paper Moon written by Adam Glass and directed by Jeannot Szwarc. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. They inspire me to write more!

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Dean shuffled through the pictures in his hand, looking at each of them carefully. When he heard the knock on his door, he looked around before shoving them under a book on his nightstand.

"Yeah," he called, clearing his throat.

Cas came through the door. "You look terrible," he said.

Dean rolled his eyes and chuckled. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to lie every now and again."

"No, it wouldn't kill me," Castiel replied, clearly confused. "I just…you…."

"Forget it," Dean said. "Well, you, on the other hand, you…" He cleared his throat. "Looking good. So, are you back?"

"At least temporarily," Cas explained. "Yeah, it's a long story – Crowley, stolen Grace. There's a female outside in the car." He must have seen the confused look on Dean's face, because he stopped. "Another time."

Dean ran a hand through his hair. "Uh, speaking of females, where's Amie?" he asked.

The angel gestured over his shoulder. "Sam and I put her in her room. She hit her head…."

"I remember," Dean interrupted. He also remembered that it was his fault. He didn't like how Cas had said 'her room.' It meant she no longer considered his room as theirs. A quick glance around showed him what he hadn't noticed earlier. All of her stuff was gone. He was almost afraid to ask his next question. "Is she okay?"

Cas shrugged. "I believe she will be fine. We thought it would be best if she laid down, kept calm. She woke up briefly while you were still in the dungeon, but I put her back to sleep."

"Well, thank you for…um, stepping in when you did," Dean told him. "What does Sam say? Does he want a divorce?" He was only half kidding when he said this; he was worried that Sam was finished with him.

He and Cas talked for several more minutes, the angel doing his best to convince Dean that his brother didn't hate him and they would be okay. He also tried to convince him that he should take a break from hunting.

"Thanks for the concern," Dean said, slapping his friend on the back as he walked past him. "Right now, I am going to go see my girl, see if maybe I can persuade her to not hate me. Not only did I try to kill my brother, but I was…well…let's just say I've got a lot to make up to her. I'll be lucky if she ever forgives me."

"I understand," Castiel said. "I'll leave you to talk to her."

Dean followed Cas out the door, turning left when he turned right. He tapped lightly on Amie's door, but she didn't answer. He tried the knob. It was unlocked, so he pushed the door open quietly, not wanting to disturb her if she was still sleeping. Dim light from the lamp on the bedside table shown on her face. She had a cut on her right temple, right at the hairline. The area around it was turning a nasty purple color. He rubbed a hand over his face, cringing as the memory of her slamming into the wall and then hitting the floor came back to him.

He slipped all the way into the room and let the door close behind him. He looked around, noticing that all of her things had been moved from their shared room to this one, the one that had been hers when she'd first come to the bunker. It bothered him more than he'd thought it would to see her things not intermingled with his.

Amie stirred, kicking the light blanket covering her to the floor. He bent to pick it up and let it fall over her inert form, then he squatted at the side of the bed. He ran his hand over her hair, resisting the urge to lean over and kiss her. He didn't want to wake her.

Dean got silently to his feet. He'd talk to her when she woke up. He wasn't even sure what he was going to say to her. 'I'm sorry' wasn't going to be enough. He stepped quietly from the room and pulled the door closed behind him.

He was just opening the door to his room when Sam came around the corner, a grease-stained bag in his hand. His eyes widened slightly in surprise when he saw Dean, but then a smile flitted across his face.

"Oh…um, hey," Sam stammered. He held out the bag of food. "I…um…got you something to eat. Big old bag of cholesterol-laden crap food, just like you like – double cheeseburger, fries and, oh…." He looked behind him and held out his hand.

Shannon peeked around the corner at Dean, gave him a little wave and handed Sam a small box. Dean raised his fingers in a return wave. She stood on her toes and kissed Sam on the cheek before disappearing around the corner.

"A pie," Sam finished. "Pecan." He smiled that stupid grin that always made him look like he was still ten years old.

Dean tentatively returned the smile and took the proffered food. "Thanks," he said. "I am hungry." He pushed open his bedroom door and went inside, Sam following him.

"Did you talk to Amie?" he asked.

Dean dropped the bag of food to the table at the end of the couch and sat down. "She's still sleeping," he answered.

"Look," Sam said. "I know some of what happened between you two and…um…I'm sure it will be okay." He pulled the chair out from the table and sat down.

Dean laughed bitterly. "I don't know," he said. "It's pretty messed up. You might know some stuff, but not all of it. Amie may be forgiving, but I'm not sure she'll be able to get past some of the shit I pulled."

"I don't know," Sam said. "You tried to kill me and I'm fine." He laughed softly.

Dean shook his head, laughing along with his brother. He offered him a French fry, which Sam took willingly. They sat in companionable silence while Dean ate, Sam occasionally sneaking a fry. He felt like he should say something about what had happened, but he wasn't sure what. Like with Amie, saying he was sorry just didn't seem like enough.

"Sam…." he started.

He was interrupted by a knock on his partially closed door. "Yeah," he yelled, figuring it was Cas come to check on him again.

The door swung open slowly to reveal Amie standing on the threshold, hair mussed, eyes squinting due to the bright light of the hallway, arms crossed over her chest, hugging herself. The burgeoning bruise on her temple stood out in stark contrast to her pale skin.

"Dean?" she questioned, her eyes flitting back and forth between him and Sam.

Dean stumbled to his feet, shoving the bag of food off of his lap. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam nod and mouth what looked like 'it's him' at her.

"Hey," he murmured. He and Amie stood looking at each other, both of them unsure what to do or how to act. She hadn't even stepped all the way into his room, but was still lingering just outside his door. He'd never seen her look like she did in that moment – a strange combination of scared, insecure and unsure. It actually frightened him, the vulnerability he could see etched on her face and in her body language. And knowing that he was the reason she felt like that tore at him on a level he hadn't known existed.

Sam stood up, slapped Dean on the shoulder, then he squeezed past Amie out the door, muttering "Time to get drunk," as he left them.

Dean ran a hand through his too long hair as he watched Amie. Finally, she tentatively stepped through the door and pushed it closed behind her. She leaned against it for a second and then the next thing he knew, she was across the room and in his arms, her arms around his neck, her face buried against his chest. He wasn't expecting it, so he stumbled slightly before righting himself. He felt the sob rumble through her before he heard it.

He wrapped his arms around her, running his hand up and down her back, desperately trying to soothe her with just a touch. He cupped the back of her head and pressed a gentle kiss to the side of her head as he moved them to the couch. He pulled her with him as he sat down, letting her curl up in his lap, her face still pressed against him. She'd moved her hands from his neck and she now had them fisted in his t-shirt. The sobs tore through her, each one sending a jolt of pain right to his heart. He hadn't heard her cry like this since they'd lost Mary Grace.

Dean held her as she cried, both arms tight around her. "It's okay," he murmured. "It's me, it's really me. I'm sorry, baby, I'm so, so sorry." He ran his hands repeatedly over her hair, the quiet words flowing from his mouth in an endless stream as he held her.

When the tears seemed to be tapering off, Dean grabbed a napkin from the stack next to his pie and used it to gently wipe Amie's face. She stared up at him, her blue eyes boring into his.

"I'm still mad at you," she mumbled.

He smiled down at her and pushed a strand of hair off of her face, tucking it behind her ear. "Of course you are, I wouldn't expect anything less." He held her face in both of his hands and leaned his forehead against hers. "Hey, baby," he whispered.

"Hi," she sighed.

Dean pulled her to him and gently brushed his lips against hers. He could taste the salty tears still on her face. He could also sense the reluctance in her and he really couldn't blame her, not after everything that had happened between them. He couldn't expect her to just forgive him after one kiss.

Amie pulled away and moved to sit next to him. He turned so he could see her better, his arm flung over the back of the couch, his hand gently rubbing her shoulder.

"How's your head?" he asked, gently rubbing his thumb over the dark, purple bruise.

"Hurts," she replied, gingerly touching it with the tips of her fingers.

"Do you want me to call Cas?" he asked. "He could come and heal it for you."

Amie looked surprised. "Castiel is here? Is he back to full strength? I thought his grace was almost gone. He's been…well, I thought he was dying."

"Apparently not," Dean shrugged. "Something about Crowley and stolen grace, I don't know."

"No, don't call him," she shook her head. "I'll be fine. He doesn't need to heal me. I've survived worse." She twisted her hands nervously in her lap, staring at them.

Dean reached over with the hand not on her shoulder and covered both of her hands with his much larger one. He swiped his thumb across the top of them. He took a deep breath before finally speaking. "I don't know what to say to you. Sorry just…sorry isn't going to cut it. I can't take back anything I said or did and I know I hurt you."

"That's an understatement," Amie murmured.

He sighed, biting back the retort on his tongue. "I know I hurt you," he continued. "Just tell me what I can do to fix it."

"I don't know," she mumbled. She sat up, pulling away from Dean. She put her head in her hands. "How do you 'fix' what you did, what you said?" She pushed herself to her feet to stand in front of him. "You stalked me, held me hostage, and basically used me as a sex slave. You took every mistake I've ever made and threw it in my face, trying to hurt me. Oh, and my favorite, you cheated on me with a multitude of women."

"That wasn't me…" Dean murmured.

"Oh, but it was," Amie snapped. "There was a part of you in there. You may have been a demon, but you were still in there." She shoved her hands through her hair. "It's going to take me some time to process everything that happened. I still look at you and my initial reaction is to be afraid, because I still see the demon that hurt me. It's going to take me some time to see you as well, you again." She stared at him, her blue eyes flashing in pain and anger. "I had to shut myself down, distance myself emotionally from you, because you were tearing me apart. I don't know how long it will be before I can let myself trust you again."

Dean nodded. "Okay," he said quietly. "I get it, I do. Take as much time as you need, do whatever you need to do. I'll wait."

"What I really want to do is punch you in your stupid face," Amie muttered under her breath, loud enough for him to hear.

"Then do it," Dean said, pushing himself to his feet. "Punch me. Hit me. This time you know it will hurt, you know it won't heal. God knows I deserve it."

Amie took a step back. "Wh…what?" she stuttered.

"Hit me," Dean growled, closing the distance between the two of them rapidly. "I can take it." When Amie still hesitated, he took a step closer to her, his voice dropping low in his throat. "Hit me, god damn it! Fucking hit me! Let me know how you feel!"

He wasn't sure what he'd expected. He'd told her to hit him, so it shouldn't have taken him by surprise when her fist slammed into his nose, hard. He stumbled back a few steps, the back of his legs hitting the couch. He fell onto it with a grunt, his hand to his nose.

"You want to know how I feel?" she yelled. "Let me tell you! I can barely look at you, I can't handle the sound of your voice, and I'm afraid to let you touch me! Everything we had, everything we meant to each other, you managed to tear it apart piece by piece while you were out having a grand old time, drinking, partying with Crowley and screwing every slut that would open her legs for her. I know it was you as a demon, I know it wasn't really you, but there will always be a part of me that believes you meant everything you said while you were a demon." Amie stopped and took a deep breath. "Demons lie, but there is an element of truth to everything they say, especially if they know how deeply it will cut the other person. Under every lie you told, there is some truth. And I have to wonder if that's not the case with everything you did too. Maybe that's how you really want to live your life. Nothing tying you down."

Dean could only stare at her, wondering if she was right. He was afraid to examine that too closely, knowing he wouldn't like what he found.

"Your nose is bleeding," Amie said. And with that she turned and walked out of the room, letting the door swing closed behind her.

Dean didn't follow Amie, he let her go. She needed time and he was going to have to give it to her, whether he liked it or not.

Instead, he dealt with his bleeding nose and finished what was left of his pie, then he kicked off his shoes, stripped out of his button down shirt and stretched out on the bed. He turned on the television, surprised to see his Game of Thrones dvds were still in the player. He'd already watched them, several times, but that's what made them perfect. He could watch and zone out, without worrying about what was happening on the screen. He was exhausted, but not in a way that necessarily meant he needed sleep, but just that he needed to take it easy for a while. Who knew getting a demon cure would be such a drain? Not to mention all the shit with his brother and Amie. It could take a lot out of a guy.

He reached over and turned off the light, then propped his pillow behind his head and tried to get comfortable. The only light in the room was the dim light cast by the flickering images on the television. He stared straight ahead, his mind wandering, his brain unconsciously working on the problems that his time as a demon had caused. Especially those he'd unwittingly created with Amie.

He must have needed to sleep more than he thought, because his eyes started to drift closed and no matter what he did, they wouldn't stay open. Finally, he closed them, images of Amie dancing behind his lids as he drifted to sleep.

Dean woke up some time later, his room unnaturally quiet. It was dark, darker than it had been when he fell asleep. It took him a few seconds to realize that the television was no longer glowing from the corner of the room. He didn't move, instead he forced himself to listen. A faint rustling sound came from the other side of the room, near the couch. His hand went automatically for his gun, which he normally kept under his pillow. When it came up empty, he remembered that Sam had stripped him of all of his weapons when he doused him with holy water in the parking lot and brought him back to the bunker. He was going to have to remedy that situation.

He rolled to his back, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dark room. He could see a small, huddled shape on the couch. A shape he vaguely recognized. He reached over and turned on the lamp on the table, soft yellow light flooding the room.

"Amie?" he murmured as the tiny redhead looked up from where she was lying on the couch. She was wrapped in a blanket and there was a pillow under her head. She'd obviously been sleeping.

"Hmm," she sighed. She pushed the blanket off of her legs and sat up, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

"What are you doing, baby?" he asked.

"After I calmed down, I felt bad about hitting you," she answered, shrugging. "You yelled at me and then that…voice…you used…." She visibly shuddered. "Anyway, I came in here to apologize and you were asleep. I didn't want to wake you up, so I got my blanket and pillow and stretched out on the couch."

Dean sat up as well. "I wanted you to hit me," he told her. "I deserve so much worse than that. I knew if I pushed you, made you mad enough, well, then, you'd do it." He shrugged. "It worked."

"How's your nose feel?" she asked quietly.

"It's fine," he said. "I've had worse."

Amie laughed quietly. She stood up and grabbed something from the table behind her, then crossed the room to stand in front of him. She held out a bottle of beer, his favorite. "Peace offering?" she murmured.

He laughed and took the bottle, but instead of opening it, he set it on the table. He moved to the side of the bed and wrapped his arms around Amie's waist, then he leaned his head against her stomach. After a couple of seconds, she put her hands on his shoulders and began gently rubbing them, massaging the knots of tension in the muscles. He sighed, grateful for any bit of attention he could get from her.

After a few minutes, Amie climbed onto the bed and kneeled behind him, her hands running up and down his back, her deft fingers working on his aching muscles. He dropped his head and closed his eyes.

It took him by surprise when he felt a gentle kiss between his shoulder blades, so light he almost didn't feel it. A second later, he felt another on his left shoulder, then his right. Amie moved to his side, her arms sliding around his waist. Dean turned and gathered her into his arms, lying them on their side on his bed. He pushed her hair away from her face, his fingers weaving into the long red tresses. He brushed his nose against hers before kissing her softly on the corner of her mouth several times. She sighed and returned his kisses and soon, the two of them were exchanging tender, chaste embraces, their lips barely ghosting over the others.

When they finally broke apart, Dean hugged her tight against his chest, tucking her head under his chin. He ran his hands up and down her back, just enjoying the feel of her in his arms. He pressed his lips to the top of her head.

"I love you, baby," he whispered. "I know you might not want to hear that right now, or even believe it, but it's true."

Amie nodded, her hair brushing his chin. "I know," she whispered. "I just need a little time. Time to get my head back on straight. And we need time to rebuild what you – as a demon – tore apart." She snuggled closer and he could barely hear her next words, muffled against his chest. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah," Dean answered. "Yeah, it is." He wasn't sure he liked the 'time' constrictions Amie was putting on them – he wanted her back in his room, in his bed, permanently, sooner rather than later – but if waiting meant regaining her trust, well, then he'd wait. Right now, it felt good just to hold her and be close to her.

"I'm hungry," she suddenly mumbled.

Dean chuckled and looked at his watch. "It is time for breakfast." He climbed off of the bed and held out his hand to Amie. "Come on, I could really use a cup of coffee."

She rose to her knees and balanced on the side of the bed. She grabbed one of his belt loops and pulled him to her. She kissed him, a soft sigh escaping her. He returned the kiss, desperately wishing for more. But he wouldn't push her.

He stepped back and tugged on her hand. "Coffee. And breakfast."

She nodded and climbed off of the bed to follow him from the room, down the hall and into the library. They heard a pounding from the other side of the bunker, down one of the other halls. Dean headed that way instead of towards the kitchen, Amie close behind, her hand in his.

They rounded the corner to find Sam trying to get the door to the electrical room – the broken door – off of its hinges, Shannon helping. Sam was having a difficult time, especially with one arm.

"Um, what are you doing?" Dean asked.

"Hey," Sam said as he turned around. "I was…uh…trying to get the broken door down."

"I know what you're doing," Dean chuckled. "I was just curious as to why you're trying to do it with one arm."

"Shannon's helping me," Sam said indignantly.

"Oh, oh, sorry," Dean grinned. "Short stuff is helping you."

Shannon shot a glare his way, but then she laughed. "Yeah, it is kinda ridiculous," she said. "I'm better with books." She shrugged and handed Sam a screwdriver.

"Look," Dean said. "Amie and I were gonna grab some food and then, I'll help you." He paused for a second, before continuing. "I broke it, I should fix it."

Sam glanced at over Amie, almost as if he was checking with her first, then he looked at the screwdriver in his hand.

Dean saw the look and he knew, in that way he had of knowing exactly what his brother was thinking, that Sam was wondering if he should even let Dean touch the pointed, most likely dangerous tool in his hand. He waited, letting Sam come to whatever conclusion he would without any pressure.

After a minute or so, Sam held the screwdriver out to his brother. "Okay," he agreed.

Dean took it, a small smile on his face. Small victory won. Finally, things were moving in the right direction.

Dean leaned back and took a long drink of his ice cold beer. He stared out over the water, his eyes protected from the sun's glare by his dark sunglasses. He brushed his hand through Amie's ponytail, her head resting on his knee. He sighed and looked over at his brother who was sitting in the chair next to him.

"Hey, something I needed to ask you," he said.

"Shoot," Sam replied.

"You've been…kicked, bit, scratched, stabbed, possessed, killed…" Dean pointed out. "And you sprain your friggin' elbow?"

Sam made a face at his brother. "Dude, it was more than a sprain. All right? And it was a friggin' demon, but…."

"But what?" Dean chuckled. "That sling come with a slice of crybaby pie on the side? Please."

"Dean!" Amie snapped, punching him on the leg. "Be nice!"

He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. "Sorry," he whispered in her ear, tugging lightly at her ponytail. When she tilted her head back to look at him, he kissed her softly on the lips. She smiled at him, then she stretched out on the blanket she'd put on the grass at his feet, her face to the sun.

"How you doing?" Sam asked.

"Golden, man," Dean answered.

"Come on," Sam sounded skeptical.

"Seriously, I'm good," Dean insisted. He hated the way Sam always seemed to know when he was bullshitting him.

Sam still looked like he didn't believe his brother. Dean chuckled. "I am," he said. "You know, we got…three more cases of this on ice in the trunk." He used the beer in his hand to knock on the lid of the green cooler sitting between them. "Taking some 'we' time. Best decision we ever made."

"Hear that," Sam said, reaching over to tap his beer bottle against his brother's.

They relaxed into their respective chairs, looking out over the lake. They'd been there for several days, a rented cabin their current home. It had been Sam's idea to get away, to take some time to relax. Dean had readily agreed, hoping it would help him to rebuild not only his relationship with his brother, but with Amie too. So the four of them had loaded their crap in the Impala and just taken off, no particular destination in mind. They'd driven for hours, until Shannon had spotted the sun gleaming off of the blue lake as they'd rounded a corner on the two lane freeway. Sam had been able to find a two bedroom cabin for rent, which they'd quickly snatched up.

Things were pretty good between him and Sam, though they hadn't talked about it very much, with 'it' being Dean's time as a demon. They'd glossed over the topic and skated around it a bit, but they'd never tackled it head on.

He and Amie's relationship was improving as well, not as quickly as his and Sam's, but it was getting better. She was still hesitant to trust him, and she was having a hard time giving herself to him completely, but they were at least sharing a bedroom at the cabin. No sex yet, a lot of kissing and once or twice they'd made out like a couple of horny teenagers, something that left Dean extremely frustrated, but making love right now seemed to be out of the question. They'd actually tried at one point, a day after their arrival at the lake. But it hadn't gone well; Amie had burst into tears, claiming all she could think about was him having sex with the multitude of other women he'd bedded as a demon. He'd stopped, wrapped her in one of his flannel shirts and held her as she cried, kissing the tears away, until she'd fallen asleep.

He was grateful that things were getting better, but they were still a few obstacles to get past. While he'd told Amie he loved her several times, wanting to remind her of what they had and how important she was to him, she had not returned the sentiment. When he'd said it, she'd smiled at him and squeezed his hand or kissed him, but she hadn't said it back. And she certainly hadn't said it on her own, without any prompting. It was yet another thing to add to his list of things that were frustrating.

The time off had been nice, rejuvenating even, but he was getting restless. He was ready for things to get back to normal. He'd started perusing the papers and the internet, looking for something that could be considered a case. He hadn't approached Sam about taking one on just yet, but he was starting to think it was time. In fact, he had the perfect case in mind.

Dean took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "See that thing in the paper this morning?" he asked, watching his brother out of the corner of his eye, the sunglasses hiding his own eyes. Amie must have heard his question because she rolled to her stomach to watch them. Even Shannon sat up from where she was stretched out on the top of a nearby picnic table.

"Maybe it was an animal kill," Sam suggested.

"It was three kills, and it was the same town, all within the last month," Dean explained.

"Yeah, you're right," Sam said. "We should call some guys, have 'em fix it."

"Good," Dean responded. "Smart."

"Done," Sam finished.

"Or…." Dean prompted. "We could be in and out. It's a milk run."

Sam looked skeptical again. "Right, because that happens never."

Dean noticed Amie stifle a laugh and he shot her a dirty look, forgetting that his eyes were covered by dark glasses. Instead he nudged her with the toe of his boot, earning him a smile from the redheaded hunter. The two of them had discussed this earlier today so she had known he was going to broach the subject with Sam. She thought it was a good idea, and that they should get back in the game, Dean especially. But she wanted Sam to be on board as well. So for now, she was keeping quiet.

Dean pulled his sunglasses off and turned to his brother. "Look, Sam, what we're doing here, it's good, okay?" he said. "You and me, hanging out. But, I need to work. I need this."

Sam took his sunglasses off as well, most likely so Dean could assess exactly how serious he was. "If things go sideways…" He watched his older brother closely. "I mean, like, an inch, you gotta give me a heads up."

"Done," Dean said, nodding. He couldn't get out of his chair fast enough. He grabbed Amie's hand and pulled her to her feet and kissed her on the cheek. He laughed and practically ran to the Impala, Sam still in his chair. As he was opening the trunk, he saw Amie stop and put a hand to his brother's shoulder. They talked for a few minutes before she ruffled his hair and followed Dean.

She stopped at his side and threw her blanket in the trunk, next to the chair. Dean wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against his chest. She snuggled against him, her hands loosely holding the front of his button down shirt.

"What was that about?" he asked her.

Amie shrugged. "Just talking," she answered.

"About me?" he inquired.

She nodded. "Of course," she murmured. "Get used to it, we're just watching out for you." She patted him on the face, then she wrapped her fingers around the side of his neck and pulled him to her. She kissed him, sighing when she pulled away. "You promise to say something if things feel wonky, right?" she asked.

"Wonky?" he teased.

"Dean," she exhaled, obviously annoyed.

"I promise," he replied. Except he wasn't positive he would say anything. He felt fine and letting on that there might be anything bothering him or anything to be concerned about would just cause Sam and Amie to worry unnecessarily. He could handle anything that came up.

So he kissed Amie on her forehead then he pushed her around the car to the driver's side, opened the door and gestured for her to get in. She slid into the car as he called to his brother and Shannon to hurry it up. He was ready to get this show on the road.

Dean drove carefully down the dark road, listening to Sam explain to the girls in the backseat everything that had happened so far. He started with their visit to the police station, posing as park rangers, then moved on to the guy they'd interviewed at the bar.

"He swore he saw the girl out here, near this old farm," Dean added. "He thinks she's a ghost. We're thinking…"

"Werewolf," Amie finished.

"Yep," Sam said.

"How many?" Shannon asked. She sounded nervous, which Dean thought was good. When she was nervous, she was careful. He didn't want her getting hurt; it would tear his brother up.

"Who knows," Sam answered. "That's what we need to find out."

Dean turned down the dirt road leading to the farm. He shut off the engine and let the Impala coast to a stop. He glanced at Amie using the rearview mirror. She was checking her gun, before tucking it into the waistband of her jeans. Then she followed him and Sam from the car, as did Shannon. Out of habit, he held his hand out behind him and she took it. He pulled her close, so she was standing right next to him.

"Well, ghosts don't shred people like that," Sam said as he slammed his door.

"Yeah, well…this flea bag, looks like she ain't done chowing down on Sons of Anarchy just yet," Dean muttered as he checked the bullets in his gun.

"Guess she likes bad boys," Sam joked.

"Well, wait'll she gets a load of us," Dean grinned.

They started across the dirt yard, Dean tugging Amie behind him, Shannon walking behind Sam, a finger hooked in his belt loop. Dean gestured to his brother to head right, while he and Amie turned left. They moved around the side of the building, flashlights illuminating the ground. As they approached the barn, Dean's flashlight spotlighted several dead chickens, their hearts ripped from their chests. Amie gave a low whistle. He shone his light on the door, a set of three long claw marks marring the doors wooden surface.

He leaned over and put his lips right against Amie's ear. "Stay close," he whispered. He half expected one of her smartass comments, so he was surprised when she merely nodded her agreement. He brushed a kiss across her cheek, then he pulled open the door.

Amie followed him as he stepped through the door, his light sweeping the room. She faced the opposite direction as him, gun raised. They moved slowly into the room, side by side.

Dean heard the woman's voice before he saw her. He hurriedly pointed his flashlight down, flipped it off and shoved it into his pocket before the woman across the barn saw the light. Amie stepped up right behind him, her body pressed against his. He put his hand behind his back and she slipped her hand into his.

He held her hand tightly as he listened to the woman speak from the other side of the barn. When she paused and sniffed the air, Dean released Amie's hand, took a couple of steps forward, his gun raised. The girl turned to run and he was sure he was going to have to go after her. Fortunately, Sam grabbed her, stopping her with a grunt. Dean couldn't help but notice the shocked look on his brother's face.

"What?" he asked.

Sam turned her around to face Dean. He immediately recognized the short blonde hair with the petite build.

"Kate?" he mumbled, dumbfounded.

"What?" Amie said, stepping closer to get a look at the woman. "Holy shit. You're the girl from Michigan, one of the kids with the video cameras."

Dean saw the look of confusion that crossed Kate's face. Amie hadn't shown up in any of their video footage, so they had figured the kids had never seen her. Kate was probably wondering who the hell the female hunter was and how she knew her.

While he and Sam took a couple of minutes to tie Kate up and suspend her from one of the low ceiling beams, Amie pulled Shannon aside and explained to the younger woman exactly how they knew Kate.

"I know who you are," the girl spat out as Dean finished securing her bonds.

"Congratulations," he said.

"After what happened at school, I thought you'd let me go," she said.

"Yeah, well that was before you started dropping bodies," Sam told her.

"What?" Kate asked, clearly confused.

"Guy at the bar saw you before you went all Wolverine on his buddy," Dean explained. "So – surprise. Here we are."

"Kate, you said you were gonna go straight," Sam said.

Amie slipped up beside Dean, a hand on his arm. He turned to look at her, his face just inches from hers.

"You okay?" she whispered.

Dean nodded. "I'm fine," he murmured. He kissed her lightly on the corner of her mouth. "I promise."

She nodded, but she stayed right beside him, her hand just under his jacket, resting on the middle of his back above the waistband of his jeans. He didn't protest, her touch was comforting. He returned his attention to the conversation between his brother and the werewolf hanging from the rafters.

"It's not like anyone gave me a handbook on being a werewolf," Kate was saying.

Dean didn't want to hear any excuses. "Looks like you're doing a pretty good job so far," he grumbled. "Break some hearts, then you eat 'em."

"I was on my own," she protested. "I…evolved."

"So that's what you call killing innocent people?" Sam snapped.

Kate stared at Dean, her eyes wide and bright. "Whatever you're gonna do, just…do it," she said.

Dean glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eye, then he raised his gun, pointing it at Kate's head. His finger rested on the trigger, tensed, ready to fire, but for some reason, he hesitated.

"Hey," Sam suddenly said, his hand on Dean's arm.

He took a deep breath, dropped the gun and turned to his brother. Sam gestured for Dean to follow him. They moved across the barn, Amie and Shannon following.

"You know what?" Sam said. "Let me do it."

"Why?" Dean asked, even though he was pretty sure he knew the answer. Sam still wasn't sure he was ready. He was still worrying over his big brother. His immediate reaction was to protest, argue with him, but he closed his mouth, not wanting to start an argument.

"Because," Sam muttered quietly. "I think you should sit this one out."

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked. He was pretty sure he knew the answer, but he wanted to hear Sam say it, to put into words what he was concerned about. He didn't want to hide from the truth anymore, even if it hurt.

"You're not ready, Dean," Sam told him. Before Dean could say anything in response, Sam's cell phone rang. As he talked to whoever was on the other end, Amie grabbed Dean's arm and turned him so he was looking at her.

"What?" he snapped.

Amie glared at him. "Don't bite my head off, Dean. I just want to help."

"So you have something to add? Maybe you think I should go sit in the car and wait 'til the adults are finished with the adult business." He yanked his arm away from her and took a step back. He took a deep breath, struggling to keep himself under control. Surprisingly, he felt a slight warmth from his right forearm. He chose to ignore it.

Sam hung up his phone, interrupting the burgeoning argument between him and Amie. "We got a problem," he said, looking over Dean's shoulder at the girl dangling from the ropes.

"What?" Dean inquired. "Besides, uh, werewolf Barbie over here?"

"Yeah," Sam answered. "There was another kill, across town, just before dark."

"That doesn't make any sense," Amie added.

"Well, how did Kate get her murder on and then get back here…" Dean stopped when he saw that Sam was making a face. "You don't think she did it," he finished.

"Look…" Sam sighed. "I don't know, man. But as far as I'm concerned…"

The sound of a rope breaking and feet hitting the ground interrupted them. They both swung around to see Kate running for the door. Amie immediately took off after her, Shannon right on her heels.

"Damn it," Dean grumbled. He ran out the door after them.

By the time he and Sam got outside, Kate was nowhere to be seen. Amie was standing a few feet away from the Impala, her hands on her head, a pissed off look on her face. Shannon came around the side of the barn, gun drawn.

"Nothing," Shannon said as she approached the trio. Sam held his hand out, she took it and stepped up next to him. "I don't know where she went."

"She's gone," Amie grumbled.

"All right, if she's not icing people, then why play the big bad wolf?" Dean asked.

"Maybe she's running with a pack?" Sam said. "You know, trying to protect them?"

"Well, hell of a price to pay," Dean mumbled. "She was about two seconds away from taking a dirt nap."

"Letting herself get killed seems a little excessive, don't you think?" Amie inquired.

Dean shrugged. "You'd think," he muttered as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone in a pink case.

"What is that?" Sam asked.

"It's her phone," Dean stated. "Let's see who she was booty calling when we pulled up." He called the last number on Kate's phone, the four of them gathered around listening.

"Thank you for calling the Lincoln Motel," a woman's voice answered. "Can I help you?" Dean disconnected the call.

"I know where that motel is," Amie said. "I saw it when we came into town."

Sam and Shannon hurried to the car and Amie turned to follow. Before she could get too far from him, Dean grabbed her arm and pulled her back against him.

"Hey," he murmured quietly. "I'm sorry about what happened back there. I was irritated and I took it out on you."

Amie stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips, silencing him. "It's okay," she whispered. "I'll live."

Dean wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. "You're awesome," he said quietly as he kissed the side of her head.

"Hey, lovebirds!" Sam yelled from the car. "Can we go?"

Dean chuckled, then he kissed Amie on the lips, lifting her off of her feet, hungrily attacking her mouth. Her breath quickened and she smiled, enthusiastically returning his kiss.

"Seriously?" Sam yelled again, Shannon's laughter echoing behind him.

Dean set her back on her feet and turned her toward the car, smacking her on the rear end as he did. "Go," he urged. "Before Sammy has a bitch fit."

Amie laughed, took two steps, then turned back and practically threw herself into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his head down to her mouth, her lips pressed against his ear.

"I love you," she whispered, then she released him and ran to the car, hurriedly pulling the door open and getting inside.

"Finally," he sighed, following her to the Impala. He couldn't help the grin he felt spreading across his face.