Amie sat with Dean, her hand in his.

"How long till we leave?" She asked.

"Another day, maybe. Just so they can make sure you're okay," Dean said, exhausted.

"Another day? Can't we leave now?"

"No, Amie, I need to make sure you're okay first," he said sternly.

"But all I do is sit in bed all day. I feel fine."

"Amie, I know you feel fine, but you just made a miraculous recovery from death's door, and I just want to make sure you're better now."

"But Dean-"

"Amie, I'm not changing my mind," Dean said in a warning tone. Amie sighed and shook her head. "It's just in case."

"Fine," Amie said. Dean smiled and stood up, then kissed Amie's forehead.

"I'm gonna go get some food bab-" Dean stopped mid-sentence, then after a moment said, "you're okay with me calling you that again?"

"I think so," Amie smiled.

Dean grinned. "I love you baby."

"Love you too."

Dean left the room and Amie leaned back into her pillow, closing her eyes. She tried to breathe slowly, to let her mind slip into sleep. But the door to her bedroom opened and closed again, creaking. Amie opened her tired blue eyes, expecting to see Dean, but instead saw John, standing at the end of her bed.

"Oh, hi Mr. Winchester."

"Amie, call me John. Please," he said kindly. "Listen, I need to tell you something."

"What is it?" Amie asked, sitting up slightly, wincing.

"I need to find Dean, but if you see him before I do… tell him I'm proud."

"Proud?"

"Yes. He's turned into an excellent hunter, with a strong loyal streak and a beautiful girlfriend. I'm proud of him."

Amie smiled. "Try and tell him your self. It would mean a lot to him."

John nodded and Amie noticed tears shining in the corners of his exhausted eyes.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, of course," he smiled. "I just… I know I haven't been that warm towards you. But Dean is lucky to have you. You're an amazing girl."

Amie smiled, her cheeks warming.

"He really loves you, you know," John said.

"I know."

"He'd do anything for the ones he loves," John said. "Sometimes I worry that it stops him from doing what's right."

"Sometimes it's how he avoids doing what's wrong," Amie said defensively.

"I know. I just… I need you to do something for me. Something I'm not sure Dean could do."

"What is it?"

"Sam's powers," John said in a hushed voice. "They might get out of hand. You have to do everything you can to help him. Try and get rid of those powers."
"Why wouldn't Dean be able to do that?"

"Because if things can't be solved. If his powers cannot be controlled and they take over him… you must do anything you have to to stop him,"

"What are you saying?"

"There may come a time when you have to stop Sam. For good. If that day comes… either you or Dean must stop him."

Amie sat in shock, staring at John blankly. He had just begun to show affection for his children; now he was ordering her to kill one of them?

John ducked his head, as Dean did, and walked over to the door.

"Amie," he said. She hoped that he was going to tell her to forget it, that he was joking. "Don't tell Dean until you have to."

Amie's stomach dropped. Don't tell Dean? Of course she would. She shared everything with Dean… how could she not? Did she dare to keep this to herself?

If she did, it would surely tear them apart.

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

Amie lay, resting. She was peaceful, tired after her long day of doing nothing but learn secrets and worry over what to do with them.

When Sam came to the door, numb and in shock, he saw Dean in the position he had been most days since he had woken. His hand clutched Amie's tightly, as if holding onto her to stop her from disappearing. He sat in an uncomfortable looking chair next to her, watching her lovingly.

Amie's eyes were closed, her face gently and sweet. Sam was surprised how like Jess she was; in sleep, her eyebrows formed the same pleasant curve, her chest rising and falling at the same pace Jess' had.

Amie was dreaming of her Dad. She was dreaming that he stood in the corner of her room, weary and adoring.

"Dad?"

"Amie," he smiled. "Amie, love, what's happened?"

"You're dead, Dad. How can you be dead?"

He smiled sadly. "People die all the time, Amie."

"I don't want you to be dead."

"I know, love. I'm sorry."

Amie reached out for him, but he stayed in the corner of the room, just out of reach.

"It's not fair," Amie whimpered.

"Life isn't fair, Amie. Stay with this boy. He knows how to take care of you. But don't tell him the secret."

"How do you know about that, Dad?" Amie asked, guilt weighing down her heart.

"I always know. Amie, do not tell him."

He began to become more transparent, and Amie cried out. "Dad, don't go!"

But it was too late.

As Amie dreamed of her own Dad leaving, Dean was told that his father had also left this world.

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

Amie woke up, tears staining her cheeks. She looked around, but the room was empty. She had been used to waking up with Dean's warmth radiating through her fingers, and felt oddly cold and misplaced without it.

The door opened, as if on cue.

"Amie," Dean croaked. He sounded as if he had been shouting.

"Dean? What's wrong?"

"I found out something. I have to tell you," he said hoarsely, walking over to his usual seat. He wiped away tears from her cheeks. "Are you okay? Are you in pain?"

Amie shook her head. "I have to tell you something too," Amie whispered, her throat burning.

Dean nodded. "You first, though," Amie added.

Dean swallowed. He stared at Amie, and the heartbroken look on his face felt like it should have been paired with tears, but it was not.

"Sam came to me about an hour ago. He'd been in Dad's room, when… he's dead, Amie."

"Who's dead?" Amie asked. Sam or John?

"My Dad," he whispered. "My Dad just died, suddenly, a stroke apparently."

"Oh my God," Amie whispered. "But I spoke to him this morning, he was fine."

"You spoke to him?" Dean asked quickly, confused. "What did he say?"

"He didn't find you?" Dean shook his head, his brow furrowed. "He wanted to say…"

Amie looked into Dean's questioning green eyes. They were broken, with dark circles surrounding them. Had they been caused by the restless nights waiting for Amie? Or had his face grown tired and old through grief?

"He wanted to say he was proud of you."

Dean smiled fractionally, nodding. He lifted your hand to his forehead, pressing it to his skin, letting tears fall.

"Dean," Amie croaked tearily. He hummed. "Dean, I know how you feel."

"How could you possibly…?" Dean began, looking up at Amie. He stared at Amie, tears glinting in his eyes. He looked like a young boy, and Amie was reminded of the amount of loss this poor man had been through. His jaw was clenched. His lips turned down at the corners. Amie wondered if he looked like his mum, or if he was purely like his Dad.

Amie remembered her own Dad. Before the hunting, before the death of her mother. She remembered her father taking her to school for the first time, hair in plaits with small red bows at the end. Her mother had spent all morning making those perfect. Her dad had told her she was beautiful.

He had called her his princess.

"How could you possibly understand, Amie?" Dean asked furiously, dragging her back to the hospital room.

"Dean, you're not the only one who's experienced lo-"

"What?! God, Amie, my dad has died… and you're making this about you?" Amie sat in the bed, helpless, tears brimming in her eyes.

"But Dea-"

"No! I just…" Dean stood up, dropping her hand. Amie was confused… where had this come from? She knew he was hurting, that he needed to be angry; but why must it be at her?

She felt a desperation build in her chest, her arms aching to reach out for him. She needed to tell him about her own Dad, about the dull ache in her own chest. Her desire to scream and smash and destroy everything, but to be held afterwards. She wanted to get out of bed, to go to him, but the wires attached to her made her anxious to get up.

"I just need some air," he muttered, frustrated.

"Don't go," Amie sobbed in a fragile voice as he reached the door. Dean walked through it without giving her a second glance. "I need you."

Amie stared at the space where Dean had been. The room suddenly felt too hot, too bright. Tears spilled out of her eyes, stinging on the way out, and she dropped her head back onto the pillow behind her. She sucked in a quavering breath, feeling as if she was drowning.

Someone came in to the room and she sat up again, desperately hoping it was Dean, but instead saw Sam.

"Amie, where's Dean?" He asked, walking over to her slowly. "Are you okay?"

Amie breathed evenly through her mouth. "He left. He was, erm, he got angry at me and left."

Sam walked over, his own eyes bloodshot. "Why are you crying?"

"Oh, Sam," Amie whimpered as Sam reached for her hand. She let her head fall in to his chest, which was so different to Dean's. It was comforting in an unfamiliar way.

"Amie, little sis, what is it?"

"M-my Dad, he didn't l-leave me," she choked into him, pressing a hand to her face firmly.

"What?"

"He died, Sam, because of me," she sobbed loudly into his body. She felt something warm plop on her head, and realised Sam was now crying too. He wrapped his free arm around her shoulders.

"Dean told you about our Dad?"

"Yes," she said, pulling away from him. "I'm so sorry, Sam."

He smiled weakly, then perched on the edge of the white bed. Amie moved over. Sam didn't comment on his own Dad's death; whether he wouldn't or couldn't, Amie wasn't sure.

"Why did Dean get angry?" Amie shook her head, her face crumpling.

"Sam," Amie whispered into his chest after a moment.

"Amie?"

"I think it was my fault," she whimpered. "I just came back to life, and now your Dad's died? N-not just a coincidence. I'm sorry Sam, I'm sorry," she choked. "I hate myself, God I hate myself."

"Amie," he said comfortingly. "Amie, sweetie; it's not your fault."

"It is! All of it! My Dad, your Dad, Jess! I should just die," she moaned. Her chest hurt, her head ached, her eyes felt sore, as if they were screaming for something to stop the tears from falling. She wanted to stop feeling, and was surprised by how quickly these emotions had surfaced.

"Amie, no one blames you, least of all me," Sam whispered. "I thank God for you every day. Dean's just angry at the moment; that's how he always is. He just needs to blame someone. But you're good for him. You're good for me. Amie, don't give up. we all love you."

Amie sniffed and both her and Sam sat in bed, crying for a while. Amie wondered if Sam would be crying if she wasn't there.

"Sam?"

"Yes, Amie?" He asked.

"Can we leave?"

"Of course. Let's get you out of here. Let's all get out of here."

He stood up and promised to be back with someone who could discharge Amie properly. She smiled weakly, feeling a little better after letting out her emotions.

She chanted in her head, over and over again; Dad, John, Jess.