Chapter Two

"You know, you should really be nicer to her," Sam mumbled from the bed after the door slammed.

Dean glanced over at his brother. "I thought you were asleep?"

"Nope, just listening to you be a jerk, as usual. But really, you could be nicer. She does a lot for us."

Dean rolled his eyes. He knew Amie did a lot for them, but there was a lot more he wished she would do. And not for Sam, for him. And him alone. The things he wished she would do kept him awake at night. And he most definitely couldn't tell Sam about those things.

Dean glanced at Sam. He still had his face covered by his arm, so hopefully he couldn't see the wistful expression Dean knew was on his face. "Shut up and go to sleep," Dean muttered.

Sam shifted slightly and let out a muffled snore. Dean got up and crossed the room to his brother. He was asleep. Thank God, now Dean wouldn't have to listen to him yammer on about how rude he was or how Amie did this and Amie did that, blah, blah, blah. He knew exactly how he acted when he was with Amie. He made a conscious effort to be a jerk so that she wouldn't figure out how he really felt.

Dean dropped himself onto the other bed and stretched out, moving his right arm gingerly. As usual, Amie's doctoring skills were no less than amazing. She had stitched him right up, and it hadn't even hurt. He hadn't been serious when he called her mean. It was just another attempt to keep his true feelings a secret.

Dean leaned back against the flimsy motel bed headboard and closed his eyes. There was no way he was letting Amie know the extent of his feelings for her. She couldn't know how worried he was when he saw the Wendigo headed for her. She'd be pissed if she knew he'd shoved her out of the way and taken the brunt of the Wendigo attack because he was terrified of something happening to her. Dean's brain had shut down and his protective instincts had kicked in. All he could think was that he couldn't lose her. And later, in the motel room, he'd wanted to be the one taking care of her, not the other way around. He'd seen the abrasion on her temple and the cut on her lip. He'd noticed how gingerly she was moving and how tired she seemed. But instead of helping her, he'd let her take care of him. Because it meant feeling her touch his bare skin, feeling her breath blowing on his shoulder, her hands on his body as she leaned over him. It meant for a few minutes he could imagine that there was more to their relationship than hunting and for a few minutes he'd been able to relive what it had felt like when they'd been together.

Dean forced his eyes open. He wasn't ready to go to sleep yet. He knew what would be waiting for him in his dreams. In his dreams, his and Amie's relationship was more than platonic. She wasn't just another hunter that Sam and Dean turned to for help when they needed it. She was so much more than that.

"Shit!" Dean jerked himself awake again. This wasn't going to work. He couldn't stop thinking about her. Over the last few months, the last thing he thought about as he fell asleep was Amie and the first thing he thought about when he woke up was Amie. Even if they weren't within a thousand miles of her, she was always on his mind. He'd find himself wondering where she was and what she was doing. When his phone rang, the one that she had the number to, he'd scramble to answer it, scared it would be her and she would be in trouble. And if it wasn't her, he'd find himself disappointed. It just wasn't quite the same hearing Garth's voice when he was hoping for Amie's. Dean chuckled to himself. That was an understatement.

Dean wondered how he had let this happen. He was usually so good at shutting down his emotions. They had known Amie now for over two years and it was like she had wormed her way under his skin and into his heart without him even realizing it. When they first met, it had been all business, just like he liked it. At least he thought it was all business.

"What's her name again? The hunter Garth called?" Dean asked Sam as they pulled into the parking lot of the tiny bar outside Missoula, Montana.

"Umm, Amie, with an i-e, I think," Sam answered.

"Are you freaking kidding me? With an i-e? Come on. She's probably worthless. Can't trust Garth to do anything, I swear." Dean slammed the door to the car just a bit harder than he intended.

Sam pulled his long frame out of the car, stretching as he did. "Well, she's the only hunter around. And if we don't have someone take care of that vampire nest right away, they'll be gone. Look, we'll go in, meet her and see what she's like. Garth said not to base our opinion on the way she looks. He said she's scary as shit and he wouldn't mess with her. If we really think she can't handle it, well, then I guess we let 'em go."

Dean hated both ideas, but they were out of options. Time was not on their side and they had to get to Dick Roman sooner rather than later. He started toward the bar, muttering under his breath the entire time.

Dean pulled open the bar door, taking a minute to let his eyes adjust to the dim interior. Sam pushed past him, glancing around.

"That's probably her, over by the pool tables. Garth said she's a short redhead. I don't see any other women in here either." Sam glanced over his shoulder at Dean. "Are you coming or do you want me to talk to her?"

"Let's get this over with." Dean shrugged and moved toward the petite woman sitting at a table alone. She had her back to a wall and she was facing the only entrance to the bar. "Well, that's a plus," Dean thought grudgingly.

As they approached the table, Dean saw a subtle shift in the woman's demeanor. She straightened up a bit and moved her right ankle up to rest on her left thigh. She nonchalantly placed her hand over the boot she was wearing. Dean guessed there was a gun there. He was impressed, a little.

"Excuse me, ma'am? Are you Amie?" Dean was happy to let Sam do the talking. He was watching the woman, wary of any sudden movements.

"Yes. And you are…?" She left the question hanging. Dean noticed she tensed as she asked it.

Sam smiled his best heartbreaking grin. "I'm Sam Winchester and this is my brother Dean. I think Garth told you we were coming?"

The woman, Amie, relaxed slightly. She raised her right hand. "Well, it's nice to finally meet the infamous Winchester brothers. Have a seat. And don't call me ma'am. I'm not that old." She laughed as the boys took a seat.

Sam reached over and shook her hand. Dean followed suit. He immediately noticed that she didn't have calluses and she had a manicure. A manicure for God's sake. This was not going to work out. There was no way this woman was a hunter. Dean leaned back, crossed his arms and put on his best grumpy face.

"So," Dean said, using his most gravelly voice, "you're a hunter?" He phrased it as a question and loaded it with skepticism.

For the first time since he had come into the shitty little bar, Amie looked directly into Dean's face. Holy shit, her eyes were blue and she had the longest eyelashes he'd ever seen. Dean's breath caught in his throat and he coughed a little. Dammit, she was pretty. Not in that drop-dead-Kate-Beckinsale-in-Underworld kind of way, but definitely not hard on the eyes. "Well, this just got a little bit easier," Dean thought.

"Yes, I'm a hunter. And I'm good. And I'm not going to sit here and try to prove it to you either. You either believe me or you don't. I don't care." Amie picked up a beer bottle from the table and took a drink. Dean couldn't stop watching her mouth. He was impressed with her attitude. She obviously didn't take any crap from anybody. And she wasn't intimidated easily. He thought maybe she just might work out.

"Well, we don't expect you to prove anything, ma'…, Amie. We just want to make sure whoever goes after this nest is equipped to do it, that's all." As usual, Sam was trying to smooth the feathers Dean had ruffled.

"Oh, I'm equipped," Amie laughed. Dean smiled, unable to help himself. "Just give me the info and you boys can be on your way. From what Garth tells me, you have more pressing matters to attend to."

Sam glanced at Dean. Dean shrugged, figuring that they had no other options. And honestly, there was something about this tiny redhead he was impressed with. He thought she might just pull it off. Sam looked surprised, but he pulled out the paper he had written the address on and slid it across the table to Amie. She grabbed it, stood up and tucked it into the back pocket of her jeans. She turned to leave.

"Wait," Dean said. Sam looked at him in surprise. "Umm, why don't you give us your number, in case, you know, you need anything?" Dean realized he was trying to stall her. What the hell?

Amie grinned at Dean. Dean felt himself start to blush, something he was not accustomed to. What the hell? Women never made him blush. He tried to shake it off. "Or we could give you our number?"

"Now that makes more sense. If I need anything, I'll call you." Amie pulled her cell phone from her back pocket. "Shoot, handsome."

Dean was flustered. He wasn't quite sure what was going on, but he was usually the one shooting from the hip with compliments and keeping the girls guessing. In just a matter of minutes, this woman had turned the tables on him. He managed to stammer out his number, the whole time watching Amie's long, delicate fingers type it into her phone. When she finished, Amie winked at Dean and walked away.

Dean felt his head slip to the side, jarring him awake. He hadn't wanted to dream about Amie, but he wasn't sure the memories of their first meeting were any better. When they'd first met, he'd wanted so badly to dislike the cute redhead with the spunky attitude, but it hadn't worked out like that at all. Instead, Dean was pretty sure he liked her more than could be considered safe, for either of them.