Dean held Amie tightly, holding her bare body to his side. She was asleep, but Dean was unable to relax. He didn't want to think about his Dad, about whether he would ever see him again; he didn't want to think of Sammy… is this how he started each of his days with his girlfriend?
He looked down at Amie to take his mind off the outside world. He noticed once again the long scar on the back of her hand… it looked like it had been sliced by a knife. But when she had recounted her life story, there was no mention of it. Dean struggled to remember any point that she mentioned to do with her scar. Any of her scars, really… but she had not.
Last night Dean had not noticed the small imperfections on her body. He had not seen the scars during the heat of the moment, but now he could. A scar on her back, two by her knee. How did she have so many? Dean thought about his own body. He had a few scars too, from hunting. Maybe they just happened on the job, he thought.
Amie stirred next to him. Her blue eyes opened and she stared at Dean's bare chest next to her. She rubbed her eye and Dean noticed her adorably messy hair from their escapades last night. He was proud that he had caused her hair to be so messy.
"Morning baby," he mumbled, stretching as he no longer had to worry about waking her.
"Morning," she smiled. She rolled on to her front and moved up the mattress to kiss Dean. "Last night was great."
"Yeah it was," Dean said bashfully, placing both of his hands on the small of her back, still holding her against him firmly. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Shoot," she smiled, resting her her head on his shoulder.
"Where'd you get all your scars?"
Amie tensed up. It was only slightly, and Dean would never have realised if he hadn't became fluent in the language of her body last night.
She lifted her hand to her eyebrow. "This one I got crashing through a window on my… third hunt? This one," she pointed to one on her collarbone that Dean had not noticed, "I got when fighting my first werewolf. Only a little nick with his claws; I'm lucky," she winked. "The two on my knee I got when I was captured by a ghost last year… and the one on my back I, I don't know. I've never noticed it before, to be honest."
Dean nodded absentmindedly and ran two fingers over the rough skin. "What about your hand?"
Amie blushed a little and nuzzled her head into his shoulder. She lifted up her hand and held it to her face, staring at the long, clean scar sadly.
"Doesn't matter."
"Amie? What is it?" Dean asked, getting worried.
"This guy I used to date," she started, knitting her eyebrows together. She dropped her hand down on to Dean's solid abdomen.
"Wait, your ex-boyfriend?" Dean exploded, making Amie jump. "Your own boyfriend hurt you?"
"Yeah, I mean, only twice…" she stumbled on her words, blushing with shame. She was a hunter, and she couldn't even defend herself from a human? She looked up at Dean, who said nothing, but stared at the ceiling. "I mean, okay. The one on my back is from him too. But it was my fault, I knew he had issues and I pushed him. I told him about what I do, I took him on a hunt with me and, well that was stupid…"
Dean felt anger rise in his chest as Amie told him about how her old boyfriend Max got really caught up in the hunt. How then she got captured, and after he killed the son of a bitch he got angry. He yelled, saying she took him with her and couldn't even handle the job. He kicked her and punched her while she was tied to some railing, her back slamming into some pipes. Then, when he was eventually done beating her, he cut the rope ties with a knife, not caring when he cut her hand open.
Dean lay silently, his grip on Amie's shoulders growing tight. He stared at the ceiling, feeling anger rise in his chest. He suddenly became aware that Amie had stopped talking. How long had they been silent?
He looked down at Amie, who was now tracing patterns on Dean's hard chest.
"I broke up with him eventually. After he beat me again. Told him if he ever came near me again, I'd kick his cowardly little ass. Guess I just got lucky again; he left me alone. I'm just stupid," she said, feeling ashamed.
"Hey, it's not your fault," Dean comforted, shifting on to his side. "That douchebag was pathetic, he was a sick, sad coward. But it was not your fault that he hurt you."
Amie looked up into his eyes, her own glassy with tears. "I let him scar me. I'm pathetic," she whispered, blinking back the tears.
"Baby you're perfect. Your scars just show how strong you are, to escape that guy," he assured her, sitting up. He lifted up her hand and kissed the scar gently. "That guy is nothing," he mumbled as he moved to kiss the scar on her back, stroking it after his lips touched it. Amie shivered and blushed slightly. She rolled over and sat up, inching closer to Dean.
"You know, we don't have anything to get up for," she whispered. Dean smirking slightly and kissed her gently, a hand still tracing the scar absent mindedly.
(o(o(o(o(0)o)o)o)o)
"Hello?" Dean said down the phone, sat in the bar.
"Dean," John Winchester said down the phone. Dean straightened his back and tensed up; he hadn't heard from him in weeks.
"Dad?"
"Dean, listen. We had one hell of a fight back then. But I'm sorry."
"Me too," Dean croaked.
"Listen, I need to see you. I'm going on another hunt soon, and I don't want both my boys hating me if something goes wrong."
"Don't say that," Dean replied, shaking his head as if John could see him.
"I just… sorry. Tell Amie that, too. I didn't mean to be rude; she seemed nice," John sighed.
"Where you going, Dad? We can come help."
"A string of male deaths in Jericho seem suspicious. I won't need any help, but… I'll be there. I'll ring you in 3 days time."
"Okay," Dean replied, then the line went dead.
"What is it?" Amie asked, sitting down. She had finally bought her own clothes, and was wearing a purple and white plaid shirt over skinny jeans.
"My Dad just called," Dean replied.
"Really? Saying what?"
"Nothing. Saying he'd ring me back in 3 days. Doesn't matter," Dean smiled reassuringly. Amie nodded, still skeptical, but decided not to question any more.
(o(o(o(o(0)o)o)o)o)
"Remind me again why we're going to find Sammy?" Amie asked from the passenger seat. It was the middle of the night, and 6 days after the initial phone call John still hadn't called back. She was cold and tired, wearing Dean's old hoodie. He never wore it anymore; she struggled to think of a time when he'd shown any interest in it.
"Because I need to find my Dad, and I need Sammy to do it. We're almost there Baby," he replied calmly. Inside he was anything but calm; he was going to see his baby brother in less than an hour. He could barely contain his excitement, however it was mixed with dread. What had happened to his Dad?
"So why are we going in the dead of night?" Amie asked, stifling a yawn.
"Because it's urgent. See, here we are," Dean answered, pulling up outside a set of apartments. "You wait here."
"No chance," Amie scoffed. "What would you do without me?"
"Oh, I don't know, stay out of trouble," Dean smiled cheekily, making Amie playfully hit his arm. "Come on then," he chuckled, getting out of the car.
"Why can't we just knock on their front door like normal people?" Amie asked, falling into a steady pace next to Dean. He slung an arm round her shoulder.
"Because we are not normal." Amie laughed and shook her head, and Dean kissed the top of it clumsily. "Okay, because he wouldn't let me in."
Amie sighed. "Come on then," she repeated, feeling a pang of pity for Dean. Hopefully Sam would take to his visit well.