Chapter Twenty-Eight

Dean tried to aim for the werewolf's heart, but he was slightly dizzy and his aim was off after being thrown across the yard. He pulled the trigger, hoping to at least hit the monster and slow it down. Instead the bullet hit just over its left shoulder. Dean saw Amie raise her gun and take aim. He took a breath, trying to steady himself. He and Amie fired simultaneously. The werewolf bolted, escaping down the dark alley. Dean dropped the hand holding his gun, tucking it back into his jacket pocket. He struggled to his feet and crossed the yard to Amie. He knelt in front of her.

"Hey, baby," he said, running a hand through her hair. "You okay?" His eyes roamed her body, checking for injuries. The only thing he noticed was the cut on her leg where the werewolf had tried to grab her.

Amie pulled away from him, but she nodded. "What about you?"

"I think I dislocated my shoulder. I heard a pop when I hit the trash. Otherwise, I'm good." He stood up and held his left hand out to her. "Come on, let's go. I think you might need stitches." Dean yanked her to her feet. "The Impala's parked up the street."

They hurried up the street to where Dean had parked his car. He tried to pull the keys from his jeans pocket but he couldn't because of his shoulder. When Amie noticed him struggling, she reached into his pocket and grabbed them.

"You can't drive with your shoulder like that. Get in the car." She opened the door for him.

Before climbing in the car, he stopped in front of Amie, trying to gauge her mood. She wouldn't make eye contact with him. He sighed and climbed in the car. She slammed the door, a bit harder than necessary. "Be nice to Baby," he muttered.

Amie drove hastily back to the motel. Dean had to bite his tongue several times so he wouldn't comment on her driving. He didn't like the way she haphazardly drove his car. She wasn't being very nice. But considering the fact that she was still not saying anything, he thought it was more prudent to keep his mouth shut.

When the silence got to be too much, Dean cleared his throat. "Hey, umm, are you still mad at me?" He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

Amie's hands tightened on the steering wheel. She was quiet for a second before muttering "Yes."

Dean decided to keep his mouth shut for a while longer.

Amie turned into the parking lot of a very small motel and parked at the back of the lot. Dean noticed her grab the Impala door to steady herself as she got out of the car. She probably needed that cut stitched up before she lost any more blood.

He pushed open the passenger side door and followed Amie to one of the rooms. He was surprised when she didn't try to slam the door in his face. Maybe she was coming around.

Dean shoved the door closed, wincing. He needed to get his shoulder back in place. He watched as Amie threw her jacket on a chair. She quickly stripped off her button-down and turtleneck until she was just wearing a tank top, then she kicked off her boots and socks.

"Let's fix your shoulder," she said as she walked behind Dean. She grabbed his jacket and gently pulled it off. Her fingers grazed his neck and ran down his arm as she helped him take off his shirt, leaving him in only a t-shirt. He put his head back, savoring even the slightest touch. When she pushed him toward the bed, he couldn't help but flash a grin at her over his shoulder.

She shook her head, but Dean thought she might be trying not to smile. He stretched out on one of the beds, Amie right next to him. She grabbed his arm and tucked her right foot into his armpit. He wrapped his hand around her wrist, holding tight.

"Ready?" she asked.

Dean nodded.

"One, two, three!" On three, Amie pulled on his arm at the same time that she pushed with her foot. Dean felt his shoulder joint slide back into place.

"Okay," he grunted. Amie scrambled backwards, away from Dean. He rolled to his side and slid off the bed, his shoulder throbbing.

"There's some Advil on the bathroom counter," she said, pointing to the door. She crossed the room and starting digging through her backpack.

Dean sighed. This cold-shoulder shit was annoying. He went into the bathroom and grabbed the bottle of Advil. He dry swallowed three and took a minute to splash some water on his face.

When he came out of the bathroom, Amie was sitting in her underwear on one of the motel chairs threading a needle with dental floss. She had an open bottle of whiskey sitting on the table next to her elbow and a couple of towels under her leg. Dean shook his head, frustrated that she would try to stitch herself up.

"Do you want me to do that?" Dean asked, starting across the room.

"No!" Amie retorted. She took a deep breath. "No, I got it." She took a quick drink from the bottle, wincing as she swallowed.

Dean stopped and leaned against the doorjamb. He watched her closely. She took another deep breath and moved to push the needle into the sensitive skin of her thigh. She bit her lip, concentrating. When Dean noticed her hands visibly shaking, he stalked across the room.

"God dammit, let me do it!" He took the needle from her hand, replacing it with the bottle of whiskey. He knelt on the floor between her legs. He splayed his hand across her naked upper thigh, holding her leg in place. He pushed the needle into her thigh, trying to work quickly, wincing at her sharp intake of breath. She took several long pulls from the whiskey bottle, though he knew she hated the stuff. Beer was the strongest alcohol she usually drank.

Dean finished the tiny, neat stitches, hoping they wouldn't leave a scar. He gently rubbed his thumb over the wound, watching as goose bumps appeared on Amie's thigh. He hesitated for just a second, then leaned forward and placed a kiss on her upper thigh, just above the cut. His lips lingered for a moment, feeling her leg shake slightly.

"Dean, don't…." Amie murmured, her voice catching.

He sat back on his heels. Amie was staring into his face, tears in her eyes. She just shook her head. He pushed himself up, until he was inches from her face, his hand on either side of the chair, effectively trapping her.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, his voice quiet. "I really am." He leaned forward, intent on capturing her lips with his.

Amie pulled back, out of his reach. "I can't, Dean. I thought I could, but I was wrong. I love you, but I can't do this."

"I'm trying. I told you, I'm doing my best," Dean said, frustration clear in his voice. He stood up and took a step back.

Amie shook her head again. "I don't think you are. I think you're hoping I'll just accept you the way you are, take you like this. You're hoping I'll forget about the rest, forget about the fact that you won't tell me you love me."

"I'm not doing that…." Dean muttered.

"Yes, you are." Amie interrupted. "I thought I was okay with it, with you not being able to say I love you. But it's not just that, I feel like you keep pushing me away. Don't you think I know what it's like? The need to lock yourself down, keep everyone out?"

Dean couldn't hold back his anger. "No, you don't understand! I have lost everyone and everything I care about! My parents, Jo, Ellen, Bobby! And worst of all, Lisa and Ben! I should have known not to care about them, that they would be taken away from me! If I let myself care about you, then I'll lose you, too! I always do. I lose everyone."

Amie was crying, the tears covering her face. "I get it Dean, I do! I have spent the last three years running away from everybody, not letting anyone get close to me. I was too scared. Until you. And now I'm willing to let you in, but you are too damn stubborn to do the same. I don't want to run from you, but you aren't leaving me any choice. I have to get out now before you break my heart more than you already have."

Amie's words stung. He didn't want to hurt her, hadn't meant to hurt her. But he was so terrified of getting close to anyone that he automatically pushed them away. It was what he had done all of his life.

"I don't know what to do. I don't want to lose you, but I'm afraid to let you in." His shoulders slumped. "No matter what I do, it's the wrong thing. All I know is I don't want to hurt you."

"Then let me go. I'll walk away and I won't look back. We can both get out of this before it's too late," Amie implored. She sat down on the end of the bed, her head in her hands.

"But don't you see, I can't do that either," Dean responded. "I'm terrified you'll get hurt or taken again. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you. The only way you're safe is if you stay with me."

Amie was so fast, Dean barely saw her move. She was across the room in a split second, screaming in his face. "That is such bullshit! I can take care of myself and you know it! You just can't be honest with me or with yourself. Just let me go, Dean, stop doing this and let me go!" She fell against him, her small fists beating against his chest.

Dean grabbed her wrists, trying to stop her. She wrenched free and threw a punch. He was so shocked at her sudden outburst that Amie was able to land a blow to his cheekbone. Her ring scratched his cheek and he felt blood drip down his face.

When she tried to hit him again, he grabbed her upper arms. "Amie, stop it!" he snapped. They struggled for a few seconds as Amie tried to break free and Dean tried to keep her from hitting him again. Once she realized that she wouldn't be able to land anymore blows, she clutched the front of Dean's t-shirt with both hands.

Before he knew what was happening, Amie yanked him to her and starting kissing him, desperately, urgently. He grabbed her head, his fingers tangling in her hair, his tongue stabbing into her mouth. Nothing else mattered. The only thing of importance in his life was Amie, right here, right now, in his arms, where she belonged. He forgot every reason he had for pushing her away, every reason he had for not telling her the truth. The only thing that mattered was her. Dean knew then that he couldn't let her go. No more games, no more lies. He was ready to be honest with not only her, but himself as well.

Dean put his forehead against Amie's, his arms sliding down to wrap around her waist. "I love you," he finally said, the words he'd held back for so long falling easily from his lips. "I love you, baby. Please don't leave me. I can't live without you."

At Dean's words, a look of shock shot across Amie's face. She tried to take a step back, but Dean tightened his grip, keeping her locked against him. She actually looked like she might faint.

"I'm not lying. And I'm not saying it because it's what you want to hear." Dean whispered, his voice catching. "I'm telling you the truth. I am in love with you." Dean was surprised at how desperately he needed her to believe him.

Amie wiped a tear from his cheek with her thumb. Then she grabbed the back of his head, her hands twisting in his hair. She dragged his lips to hers, coaxing his mouth open with her tongue. She wrapped her other hand in the front of his t-shirt, yanking Dean as close as possible.

Dean responded by shoving her tank top up and over her head, breaking the kiss for the briefest second. His hands came up to grasp her breasts, kneading the soft flesh, his thumbs lightly grazing the taut nipples trapped behind her bra.

Amie moaned. Her hands fumbled with Dean's belt, unbuckling it before she unbuttoned the top button of his jeans. Dean's hand moved back to her waist so he could hold her as he walked to the bed, keeping her tight against him. He must have misjudged the distance because his knees hit the bed sooner than he had expected. He stumbled and they fell, arms and legs entangled. Dean threw his head back, laughing.

"Oops," he chuckled. He tucked Amie under his arm, intent on slowing things down. While desperate, angry, make-up sex was awesome, he wanted to take his time and savor every moment.

She brought her hand up to his face. "I love you," she told him, running her hand back and forth across his stubble.

"I love you, too," he said, turning his face into her hand and kissing the palm. He took her lips in his, lightly nipping her lower lip, before kissing her slowly, taking his time. His tongue explored every facet of her mouth as he ran his hands across her body.

Dean reached around and unhooked her bra, throwing it to the floor. He slid his hands into her underwear, tugging them off, dropping them next to her bra. He ran his hand up her leg, briefly grazing her soft center before continuing up until it was splayed across her stomach. He continued caressing her with his lips, moving so his tongue traced the contours of her face and neck. He continued down until he reached Amie's breasts, his mouth suckling the tender flesh of first one, then the other. He slid his hand down her stomach, his fingers tracing small circles as he went. Amie arched her back in response to the movement of his hand. Dean inserted one finger, continuing the circular movement, until Amie was squirming. Then he inserted a second finger as he rubbed her clit with his thumb. Amie grabbed his wrist, straining against his hand, muscles clenching, light moans falling from her lips. Dean softly bit her nipple, the combined pleasure and pain pushing Amie over the edge. Her orgasm shot through her as Dean held her close.

He quickly stood up, intent on removing his clothes. Amie inched over to the edge of the bed, sat up, and unbuttoned Dean's pants, pushing them and his underwear down. He stepped out of them, kicking them away. Amie gathered his erection in both hands, looking up at Dean through her lashes. Her tongue flicked out and she slowly licked the tip of his cock. Dean clamped his hand down on her shoulder as he jerked in her hands, his body responding involuntarily to what Amie was doing to him.

"Amie…," he panted, the words getting lost in his pleasure.

"Shhh," she whispered before sliding Dean into her mouth.

He nearly lost it. He threw his head back, teeth clenched, as he concentrated on not coming. Amie's mouth was doing the things to him he'd always dreamed about her doing. She slid her tongue down his shaft until she reached his balls, taking first one and then the other into her mouth, gently massaging them with her lips and tongue. Then she very slowly moved back to the tip of his cock, her tongue constantly moving and flicking. When she reached behind Dean and grabbed him, pulling him flush against her so he was almost completely in her mouth, he thought he would die of ecstasy. Amie worked him with her mouth, her hand at the base of his shaft, for several minutes until he couldn't wait any longer.

Dean pushed her back on the bed, pulling one leg over his shoulder. Amie guided him until the tip of his erection met her center, very wet and ready for him. He slid just the tip of his cock in, enjoying the look of pleasure and anticipation on Amie's face. He lingered there, moving in and out, just an inch or so at a time, prolonging the inevitable.

"Dean, please…," Amie whimpered, her hands clutching his back, her hips straining to take him.

Dean pushed himself farther, but he still didn't enter her completely. He was enjoying making her wait. He rocked against her, pulling himself in and out, never fully taking her as Amie's moans built into screams of passion, her hands digging into his back, her nails scratching him.

Finally, Dean entered her completely, no longer able to wait. Amie let out a moan, her head thrown back. They moved together, faster and harder, their hips bucking against each other. Dean felt his orgasm building, the pleasure moving through every part of his body. When Amie screamed his name, her back arched, her body shuddering, Dean let himself go, his climax pushing every other thought out of his head. He collapsed on the bed, spent.