Chapter Twenty-Four
Dean could smell French fries. He opened his eyes slowly, anticipating the pain, but it didn't come. Without moving his head, he looked around. He saw Amie's bare foot and leg, propped on the bed next to him. He could see the open bathroom door behind her. They were obviously back at the motel. He put his hand on Amie's leg and pushed himself up until he was sitting on the edge of the bed.
Amie leaned forward in the chair she was sitting in by the bed and put her hand on his knee. "You're awake," she smiled.
Dean nodded while he stretched the muscles in his back. Nothing pulled or hurt. He put a hand to his face, but he couldn't feel any bruises or abrasions. He straightened his leg but there was no pain there either. He looked at Amie. "Who healed me?" he asked.
"It was Katarina. I called her," Amie explained. "She came and healed you. Then she left again."
"She just left? Still no answers? I'm really getting tired of waiting on that damn angel." Dean put a hand to his stomach. "Wait, I smelled French fries. Where are they?" He looked around the room.
Sam threw a bag at him from where he was sitting at the motel's kitchen table. Dean opened the bag, the undeniably wonderful smell of hamburger and fries wafting from it. He greedily unwrapped the burger and took a huge bite.
"Oh my god, that tastes good," Dean muttered around the burger in his mouth. "So, what attacked me?" He grabbed Amie's drink from her hand and took a huge swallow.
"It was another werewolf, a female. We figure she must have been with the one you shot. Amie killed her," Sam answered.
Dean grimaced as he swallowed and looked at Amie. "You shot her?" he asked. She shrugged. He started to take another drink, but instead handed it back to Amie. "What is in that? It's disgusting."
"Green tea," Amie laughed as she stood up and grabbed another large drink from the side table. Dean couldn't help but admire her as she walked back to him; her long, lean legs looked fantastic in the shorts she was wearing. She handed the drink to Dean. He took a tentative sip; when he realized it was Coke, he gulped it down.
"So it was two werewolves, working together?" Dean asked, still eating. He was starving. He almost always felt like this after an angel healed him. It had been so long that he'd nearly forgotten what is was like. "Does that strike anybody else as odd?" He looked at Sam and Amie.
"Well, yeah, but the whole damn world is odd right now," Sam replied. "Since we had to get you back here I didn't really have time to check things out further. I do know the female werewolf was pissed when you shot the other one. She wanted to tear you apart. And she nearly did."
Dean stretched the muscles in his back once more. "I know it was bad, but how bad was it really?" He looked at Amie as he asked.
Amie was pacing back and forth in front of the couch, her muscles taut, her face pinched. She looked at Dean and he could have sworn she had tears in her eyes.
"I thought you were going to die," Amie explained. "Your back, it was torn apart. I…I could…the cuts were so deep. They wouldn't stop bleeding. You were barely breathing." Amie voice hitched and then Dean saw that she actually was crying. He started to get up to go to her, but she put her hands up, gesturing for him to stay where he was. "I couldn't do anything, neither could Sam. So I called Katarina." She shrugged. "Excuse me a minute." She ran into the bathroom and shut the door. Dean heard the lock turn.
He looked over at Sam, who shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. But she's right, dude. You were a mess. I don't think you would have made it if she hadn't called the angel. She popped in, healed you, and popped right back out again. Barely said anything other than she had to get back before what's-his-name got suspicious."
Dean glanced at the bathroom door, then back at Sam. "Well, I'm getting tired of waiting. You know how good I am at it. We need answers, and we sure the hell aren't going to get them sitting around here."
Just then, Amie came out of the bathroom. She had pulled her hair away from her face and Dean could see that her eyes were red and puffy. She threw herself on the bed next to Dean. "It's after midnight. I'm exhausted, I'm going to try to sleep for a few hours." She pulled the sheet up over herself and curled up on her side, her back pressed against Dean. He put his hand on her hip, absentmindedly massaging it.
Maybe it was time to think about going back to the bunker. They had spent three days locked down in the motel and frankly, Dean was done. Katarina wasn't bringing back any answers about Abbadon. As far as he was concerned, Amie was constantly in danger. Castiel was being hunted by angels and Dean wasn't sure how to help him. If they went home, they could go back to work on Crowley and continue researching how to solve the angel problem. And Amie would be safe. Maybe Dean could relax and concentrate on some of the other problems they had.
"What do you think about heading home, Sammy? Dean asked.
"Home? You mean back to the bunker?" Sam responded. "I think it's probably a good idea. We aren't getting anything accomplished sitting around here. Katarina hasn't brought us any answers. Maybe she won't, who knows? So, yeah, let's go back."
Dean nodded his agreement. "Okay then. Get some sleep, you look tired. We'll leave tomorrow."
Sam smiled. "Yeah, worrying about you practically getting killed takes a lot out of me. I'm dead tired." He crossed the room, pulling off his shirt as he walked. He sat on his bed and pointed at Amie. "Behave yourself, will ya? I'm gonna be right here." Sam tucked a pillow under his head. Dean heard him start snoring just a few minutes later.
Dean laughed quietly. Him, behave himself? That was asking a lot when it came to Amie. As usual, he felt an overwhelming need to touch her. Not because he wanted to make love to her—which he did—but because he needed to reassure himself that she was real, that she was there. He reached behind himself, turned off the bedside lamp, and wrapped himself around her. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
Dean awoke to gentle kisses against his throat and soft hands running up and down his back. Amie had pressed herself against him, her breasts pushing against his chest. Dean felt himself stiffening in response. He grabbed her and pulled her closer. Amie kissed his chest, her tongue teasing first one nipple, then the other. Her hands slipped down the front of his underwear, grasping him with both hands. She began slowly running her hands up and down his shaft.
"Amie…stop…Sam, he'll wake up…," he said, barely able to say the words. His breath was coming faster and faster. If Sam woke up…. The thought was interrupted by Amie's impatient hands encouraging his ever-growing erection and her voice in his ear.
"I need you, Dean," she whispered.
He grabbed Amie's face, desperate to kiss her, but wanting to stop her at the same time. Dean rubbed his thumbs across her cheekbones. They came away wet.
"Hey, what the hell?" he whispered, concern clouding every other thought.
Amie shook her head, still kissing Dean's chest. "Make love to me, Dean. I need you close to me. Please?"
In the dim light filtering through the thin curtains, Dean saw Sam shift in his sleep. He mumbled something incoherent and rolled over. Dean pulled Amie against him and quickly stood up. He dragged her into the bathroom and shut the door, leaving the lights off.
"Baby, tell me what's wrong? Why are you crying?" Dean held her face gently in his hands, trying to see into her eyes in the dark room.
He felt her shake her head in his heads. She took a deep breath. "I'm…I'm just scared, Dean. I'm absolutely terrified."
Dean had no idea what she was talking about. "What? What are you afraid of?" he asked.
"Losing you. I can't lose you, Dean. And tonight I almost did." Amie blew out a breath as she spoke, her hands gripping his upper arms so tightly her nails bit into his skin.
"I know, but it's okay," Dean said, kissing her forehead. "I'm alright. There's nothing to worry about." Amie didn't respond. He knew she'd been worried, of course, but he was fine. He couldn't understand what she was so upset about.
"No, you don't understand." Amie said. "I love you, Dean," she whispered so quietly he barely heard her.
Dean was so shocked that he took a step back, dropping his hold on Amie. "You what me?" he said.
Amie wouldn't look at him. She fidgeted nervously, twisting her hands in front of her. "I'm in love with you, Dean," she finally admitted, the words spilling from her lips. "For a while now. Probably even before we got together. I totally understand if you don't feel the same way about me, and I'm okay with it. I don't need you to, you know, love me back."
Dean couldn't speak. A million things he wanted to say were running through his head, but not one thing would come out of his mouth. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but then he closed it again. He ran a hand through his hair. He could see Amie watching him, despite the darkness in the room. He wanted to tell her he loved her too, to reassure her that his feelings for her were just as strong. But the words wouldn't, couldn't come out. There was something holding him back, keeping him from telling her.
Instead he stepped forward, gathered her in his arms, and kissed her, determined to tell her with his body what he couldn't with his words. He pulled Amie so tight against him that he was afraid he was going to crush her. Dean pulled her tank top off, wanting to feel her skin against his. His hands came up, grasping her breasts, his thumbs tracing circles around the nipples.
Amie responded by grabbing his hair, her tongue darting in and out of his mouth. She slid her hands into the waistband of his underwear, pushing them down until they fell around Dean's ankles. She began massaging him again, one hand sliding down to momentarily grasp his sac, before moving up to circle the tip of his erection, her nails lightly grazing him.
Dean moaned in Amie's mouth. God, the things this woman did to him. His head dropped to her breast, his mouth enveloping her, sucking and licking. He shoved her shorts and underwear down, his hand seeking out and finding her core, wet and ready for him. He slowly slid one, then two fingers into her, enjoying Amie's slight intake of breath. With his other hand, he lifted her up and set her on the edge of the bathroom counter, spreading her legs so he could stand between them. His hand and fingers continued working her until she was gasping, the rhythm of her hand on his erection matching his.
"Dean…," she whispered, pulling him closer, guiding him.
Dean quickly entered her. Amie moaned, locking her legs around his upper thighs as she grabbed him and pulled him flush against her. He put one hand against the wall, bracing himself, with the other hand he grabbed her ponytail, pulling her head back until he could kiss her. He moved deliberately at first, taking his time, relishing the feel of Amie's wet core wrapped around him, his hips slowly grinding against the heat at her center. When Amie moaned again, Dean's hips shot forward, his thrusts becoming deeper, harder.
"Yes, Dean, oh god, yes, don't stop" Amie begged, her butt coming off of the counter as she pushed herself harder against him, matching him thrust for thrust.
Dean's control slipped. He put his hand under Amie's ass, moving faster and harder. They moved together quickly, almost desperately, the rhythm of their lovemaking matching Dean's racing heart. Dean pounded into her, holding himself back as long as possible. When Amie grabbed the counter, the tempo of her hips increasing, her back arching, an orgasm tearing through her, Dean finally let go, his own orgasm matching the intensity of hers.
Amie sagged against him, her forehead on his chest, her hair tickling his chin. He planted a kiss on the top of her head. He grabbed her chin, pulling her face up so he could look in her eyes. He kissed her gently. He wiped away a tear from her cheek.
Dean leaned his forehead against hers. "I…" he stopped, the words still not coming.
Amie looked up at him through her lashes. "I know, Dean. It's okay." She kissed him, a slight smile on her face. "Really. Come on, let's go get some sleep."
Dean helped her off the counter, setting her gently on her feet. He watched her as she put her clothes back on. He didn't deserve her, didn't deserve her love. Shit, he couldn't even tell her he loved her. Damn emotions were too complicated and annoying. He hated them. He was going to have to get over that, come to terms with his feelings and figure out how to tell her how he really felt. Otherwise, he was afraid he would lose her, forever.