Dean reached over and place a spoon gently in sleeping Sam's mouth. He smiled whilst doing this, then reached into his pocket.

"Dean, what're-" Amie asked sleepily.

"Shh," he said quietly, then after taking a photo of Sam, turned up the volume and began singing. Sam jerked awake, spluttering and spitting out the spoon, making Dean chuckle and Amie giggle in the back seat.

"Haha, very funny," Sam said, falling into conversation with Dean. Amie feigned interest in what they were saying, however, after a while, she looked out of the window and began to think.

Times like these, she liked to imagine things that could never happen.

Finding Dean's dad, for one.

Amie didn't believe this would be possible; he clearly did not want to be found. He was on a mission that he had been sent on so many years ago, and he has never been the same since he was set it.

Then she imagined what would happen if they did find him.

Dean would be ecstatic. His dad treated him badly, but he loved him all the same. When John came back, he would hug Dean - wouldn't he? He would be kind to Sammy, but curt. He had made it clear that Sammy was his world.

Amie imagined what he would think about the fact that she was still with Dean. Would John be nice to her? Would he welcome her, would he take the time to get to know her? Or would he still believe her to be a burden, something weighing down Dean.

In the end, to humour her wishes, she imagined John hugging the boys. Apologising to both. Then seeing her. John would become teary and Amie would smile slightly, still angry at yet another bad dad. Then he would walk to her. John would thank Amie, in a deep sincere voice, for looking after Dean. For keeping the boys together, because he has seen how they bicker and is sure it took some work.

He would hug her how her own dad never had. He would welcome her to the family.

(o(o(o(o(0)o)o)o)o)

Amie stood in between Sam and Dean, her arms folded as she listened to Craig, the owner of a music shop, explain to them the legend of Mordechai Murdoch.

"Well, he figured it best for his girls to die quick, rather than starve. They begged, screamed for him to stop, but he just strung 'em up, one by one. Then when he was finished, he just turned around and hung himself. They say his spirit still haunts the house."

Amie listened skeptically, as Sam and Dean carried on questioning the man. Eventually they left, happy with the answers given.

"Guys, seriously? That can't be true, do you know how hard it would be to hang all of those struggling girls?" Amie asked, folding her arms.

"Come on Amie," Dean said, annoyed.

"I don't know. I think there's something more going on, Dean." Dean looked at Sam then back at Amie, his face set sternly. Sam cleared his throat and muttered something about walking back to the hotel, leaving you and Dean alone.

"What is it?" Amie asked, looking at Dean.

"Look, I know that you've got a lot of history that you could link to this case. But there is a case here," Dean said.

"What are you talking about?" Amie asked, her cheeks growing warm. She folded her arms.

"Look… girls tied up, maybe beaten. I can see how that could remind you of Max, but-"

"What the hell, Dean?" Amie paused and huffed out an angry breath. "First of all, Max didn't string me up from the beams of a ceiling, a monster we were hunting tied me to some railing. Second, how dare you!"

Dean looked at Amie, his face angry but eyes pitying. "Amie, it's fine. I understand. Max… look, he scarred you in more ways than one. I know you don't want to believe that someone would do that, but this isn'-"

"No! This is bullshit, Dean," Amie interrupted, tears pooling in her eyes. "You know, you're the only person I've ever told about that." Dean looked at the floor, feeling slightly ashamed. "Now you're using it as a reason to not trust my judgement? I'm not saying there isn't a case here, I'm just saying that this bullshit story isn't the reason for it! Also, it was my boyfriend that hurt me, not my Dad, which is what this bullshit story says."

"Look, Amie, it doesn't matter… that's another thing I meant to mention. It's obviously hard for you because it reminds you of your own Dad…" Dean said, looking up at her with big eyes. "I mean, he left you. I get it, this case has a lot of ties to your own life."

Amie stared at Dean for a long time, her mouth hanging open slowly. Tears built up in her eyes. Why was there a shortage of oxygen all of a sudden? Amie couldn't suck in enough air to satisfy her lungs. Dean watched her for a long time, then looked down, uncomfortable. Amie shook her head slowly, the first move she made in a few minutes.

"Fine," she whispered, turning around slowly, her boy feeling like cold stone. She walked away stiffly.

Dean hurried up next to her, walking painfully slow so he could talk to her.

"Amie, are you okay?" He asked cautiously.

"Fine," she croaked, the tears slowly clearing, none having slipped down her cheeks.

"I just… I don't want this case to get away, you know? It's okay if you don't want to be part of it anymore. You've got a hard past."

"Dean, can you just leave me alone?" She hissed, stopping.

"What?"

"Let me have… just five minutes… without you jabbering on about me and my problems. I know I'm a screw up, okay? Just go, please," she said, looking up at him, her brown wavy hair hanging around her face.

"What? You're not a screw up, Amie. I didn't say tha-"

"Dean, please. I don't feel like talking," Amie said, folding her arms. Dean stood for a minute, looking at Amie, who seemed smaller now than ever before. She looked tiny, as if she was shrinking in on her self. Not only that, she looked cold. Not cold as if the chill in the air was creeping under her skin, but as if she herself was radiating a cold freeze through her vest and maroon cardigan.

"Fine," he said. He was worried but he couldn't apologise. If he said sorry, he would be withdrawing his statement, and he couldn't do that. He believed he was right. Dean leant over to her, placing a hand on either shoulder, and kissed her forehead firmly. He remembered that night, so long ago, when he had left Amie with Jess. Was he doing the right thing?

"Bye Dean," she said, turning and walking away, her hips swaying. Dean sighed, closing his eyes. He waited for her to round the corner at the end of the street, then went to meet Sammy back at the hotel.

(o(o(o(o(0)o)o)o)o)

Amie lay in her bed at the hotel, still thinking about what Dean had said.

It had cut her like knives. It hurt way more than anything else; he had brought Max and her Dad into the case, just to discredit her ideas.

Maybe he was right. After all, she did miss her Dad, and she was terrified of meeting Max again. She could still remember him pounding his fists into her body, the knife scratching her hand. She squeezed her eyes shut; it was okay. That would never happen again. Dean never hurt her… apart from now. But he hadn't meant to do this, had he? He hadn't meant to offend her so badly.

The door opened and Amie jumped, closing her eyes. She pulled the covers up to her chin, hiding her body.

Sam and Dean came in, and she heard Sam walk into the bathroom. Dean stopped in the doorway for a second, then walked over to the bed slowly. Amie kept her eyes closed as the bed sank, Dean sitting on it.

"I know you're awake," Dean said in a husky voice, sending shivers down Amie's back. She kept quiet.

"Listen, I'm sorry. I think… I think you were right, okay?" Amie opened one eye and peaked at Dean, who was staring down at her. "I'm sorry I said those things to you. I'm also sorry I didn't listen to you. I'm also sorry that I didn't let you come with us. I thought you were reminded of Max… to be honest, I couldn't believe he had done that to you when you told me all that time ago. I'd wanted to ask you about it, but I didn't. Maybe I'm more bothered by it by you."

Amie's eyes were now both open, and she had rolled onto her back, pushing down the covers to her waist. Dean realised she was wearing one of his shirts, and for some reason this made him feel guilty. The fact that his eyes were immediately drawn to her perky breasts made him feel even more so.

"Why?" She asked.

"I just… I want to find him, you know? I want to find this son of a bitch and hurt him. I really want to make him pay or something. And I don't know… I just expected you to be as pissed about it as I am."

"Dean… I was pissed about it. But that doesn't mean everything reminds me of him. Anyway, I've had years to forget," she said calmly, sitting up. Dean looked down at his hands.

"Anyway, I'm sorry."

Amie looked at him for a long time, then shifted onto her knees. She crawled over to Dean and sat on his lap, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder. "It's okay."

After a few moments of sitting still, she pulled away. She looked at his face, realising just how much she had missed being close to him. Dean swallowed as Amie leaned in slowly, then kissed his chapped lips. He parted his lips slightly, kissing her firmly and thoroughly, leaning back onto the mattress. Amie pressed lots of sweet, firm kisses to his mouth as he shifted his weight back onto the mattress, swinging her leg over his lap. She straddled him as they kissed, his hands staying securely at his hips.

Suddenly she pulled away, making Dean want to groan. "What made you think I was right?"

"What?" Dean asked, dazed.

"What changed your mind about me?" Amie asked, tracing her fingers along his chest. She couldn't deny she was turned on; she hadn't kissed Dean since the fight, and now it felt like she needed him so much. But she needed to know.

"Oh, um, I saw this sign painted on the wall. I think that Mordechai is a Tibetan thought form. It's like, ancient voodoo or something. We met these geeks who have a website; the more people that believe the story, it comes true," he explained, acutely aware of the thin layers between his skin and Amie's skin. His boxers. His jeans. Her knickers. That was all.

"So… why don't you just get them to take it down?" Amie asked.

"They'll still believe. We have to work out a way to stop it or something."

"Why don't you just post something on their website saying that he's been exorcised from the house and isn't there anymore? That he's been put to rest? If people believe it…"

"Amie, you're a genius!" Dean exclaimed, sitting up to kiss her. Their lips collided and Dean began to lay back down slowly, Amie following. She grinded her hips against his and he moaned into her mouth. "I love you," he breathed.

"I know," she smiled. She kissed him firmly again and Dean slid his arm down from her waist and cupped her bum cheek, sending electricity through her body. She started grinding on him again and he moaned throatily, squeezing her. She found a rhythm and worked hard at it, Dean kissing her faster, harder than ever before.

Suddenly the shower turned off and Amie broke apart from Dean, gasping for air. He gripped her tightly and rolled onto his side so she rested on the mattress next to him, and she pulled up the covers quickly.

Sam walked in, unaware. Amie giggled and Dean smiled, a mad spark dancing in his eye at how close they had been to getting caught. He kissed her on the tip of her nose and she wiggled even closer to him.

"Nice to see you two have made up," Sam said calmly from the corner of the room. He picked up some keys, now fully dressed. "I'm not an idiot. I'll be back in a few hours. Have fun guys."

Sam walked out quickly and slammed the door, making Dean laugh. Now his normal, smug chuckle; a full on, crinkles by his eyes, leaning forward belly laugh. Amie smiled broadly at Dean's amusement and stretched to kiss him again.

"Come on then," he smiled. "I wonder what we can do for a few hours?"

"I'm sure I can think of a few things," Amie smirked.