Chapter Thirty-Seven
As if on cue, there was a pounding on the bathroom door. Dean put his hand in his jacket on the butt of his gun and moved in front of Amie, facing the door. She grabbed his arm.
"Do you have an angel blade with you?" she asked.
"No," he replied, shaking his head.
"Then back up," she said, pulling him away from the door. He resisted at first, but she got right in his face. "God damn it Dean, back the fuck up," she whispered, her voice fierce. "I have to go. That's an angel out there waiting for me. It's just you and I, right? I'm not armed and all you have is your gun, which is worthless. We're screwed."
Amie's angel bodyguard pounded on the door again. She took a deep breath. "I'm comin' okay, just another minute!" she yelled. She turned back to Dean, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Please honey, just listen to me. I'll be okay, I promise. Just, I don't know, figure out some way to get into the fundraiser tonight and get me out." She kissed him quickly. "I love you."
Before Dean could say anything, she slipped out the door, letting it close behind her. The angel assigned to follow her was waiting just two steps away.
"Sorry darlin' I was fixin' my hair, this wind is just killin' it," she explained. Amie moved in front of him, hurrying across the park's manicured lawn to her seat with the other reporters. She sat down, picking up her notebook as she did. She watched the bathroom out of the corner of her eye. She saw Dean leave after just a couple of minutes. No one saw him or stopped him.
Amie watched the rally quietly, occasionally jotting useless notes in her notebook. She could feel Bartholomew's eyes on her, making her skin crawl. As soon as it was over, he stepped up next to her and grabbed her elbow. "Allow me to escort you back to the van, Ms. Johnson."
Amie had to resist the urge to yank her arm away. Instead she smiled sweetly up at him, the need to vomit tickling at the back of her throat. "Why thank you, Mr. Bartholomew. That is awful kind of you," she managed to say. Her eyes scanned the park, trying to find Dean, or even Sam or Cas. But the crowd was so thick she couldn't see anyone.
Once they reached the van, Bartholomew opened the door and gestured for her to get in, his hand squeezing her elbow painfully. She stepped in and moved toward the back, with him directly behind her. The other reporters filed in one by one, their conversation animated and loud. She looked out the window and immediately made eye contact with Dean. He was standing less than a hundred yards from the van, staring at it, a look of utter and complete rage on his face. Sam was standing next to him, his hand on his chest as if he was holding him back. And if Amie knew Dean, that's exactly what Sam was doing.
The drive back to the hotel took less than five minutes. Once they exited the van, Bartholomew stuck to her like glue, his hand back on her elbow as she walked. Midway across the lobby she stopped and smiled up at him. "I was thinkin' I might go lie down for a bit before the fundraiser tonight. I feel a bit of a headache comin' on and I don't want to miss the excitement just because I'm not feelin' well," she said, laying on the southern accent.
Bartholomew flashed a grin at her, the one that made her feel like she needed her gun. "Why certainly, Ms. Johnson. Though I had been hoping we could talk about the offer I made you earlier. No worries, we'll discuss it later. We have plenty of time." He released her arm and stepped back. "I'll meet you here at six to escort you to the fundraiser." The tone of his voice left no room for argument.
Amie could only nod weakly. She moved quickly across the lobby, hurrying to get on the elevator. She glanced behind her and saw the same angel from earlier following her. She stepped up her pace and managed to slide into the elevator just before the doors closed, leaving her shadow behind. She pressed the button for the sixth floor, took her phone from her purse and dialed Dean's number.
He answered on the first ring. "You okay?" he asked, his voice strained.
"Yeah," she muttered. "I'm fine." For now anyway, but she wasn't about to say that to Dean.
"Where are you?" he demanded. "We'll come get you."
She shook her head, though she knew Dean couldn't see her. "I'm at the hotel, but you can't come get me. I don't think I can get out. My room is on the sixth floor and Bartholomew has the same angel following me to my room. The only reason I was able to call you is because I got on the elevator ahead of him." The elevator doors opened to her floor. She dug her room key from her purse as she walked, the phone tucked under her chin. She slid the key into the magnetic slot, mentally urging the little light to turn green. She heard the elevator doors open behind her. She stepped inside the room, shoved the door closed and locked it. She leaned against it for a second before turning to look through the peephole. Sure enough, the angel was walking down the hall toward her room. He stopped in front of her door for just a second, then he reclined against the wall, arms crossed in front of him.
"Amie?" Dean said impatiently in her ear.
She moved away from the door before she spoke. "I'm here. I think it's going to have to be at the fundraiser tonight. I can't get out of here without being seen," she whispered. "Bartholomew's not going to let me go that easily."
Amie heard Dean sigh. She could picture him, the frustration and anger on his face, the worry line between his eyebrows prominent, his hand nervously running through his hair. God, she missed him. Shit, she didn't just miss him, she practically ached to be with him again. She choked back the tears before Dean heard them.
"Okay, tonight then. I don't know how, but I will get you out of there." Dean's voice was low and menacing. "I don't care how many goddamn angels I have to kill."
Amie stepped from the car and straightened her skirt before buttoning her trench coat. She was wearing a gray sleeveless party dress with a flowing skirt and black high-heeled shoes. The skirt was loose enough and long enough that she had been able to strap an angel blade to her thigh. She knew Dean would consider her shoes impractical but over the years she'd learned that a nice, pointy pair of heels could do some serious damage. These were no exception; in the past they had inflicted quite a bit of pain.
Bartholomew came out of the car behind her, took her elbow and guided her down the wide sidewalk to the double doors of Reverend Boyle's church. "Do you mind accompanying me to my office for a moment? I would like to talk to you," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument.
"Certainly," Amie replied. "May I ask what it is you'd like to discuss?
He smiled. "All in good time, my dear," he responded.
Bartholomew led her down a dark hallway, through what appeared to be a large classroom until they reached a set of stairs. She followed him up three flights, the angel bodyguard trailing behind them. Once they reached the third floor, they turned down a wide hallway with several closed doors. Bartholomew pushed her into a spacious office, closing the door behind him, leaving the bodyguard in the hallway.
"May I see your purse, Ms. Johnson?" he asked politely.
"I'm sorry, what?" she asked, turning to look at him.
"Please Ms. Johnson, don't make me ask you again," he demanded, his hand held out, waiting. "Or should I say Ms. Williams?" Shocked, Amie held out her purse. Bartholomew pulled it from her grasp and opened it. He dug through it for a moment until he found her cell phone. He took it out and put it in his pocket. "I don't think you'll be needing this. I don't want you calling the Winchester brothers to come to your rescue."
"How did you find out?" she asked calmly.
"Oh, a little birdy told me," Bartholomew replied with a grin on his face. "You're lucky I want you alive or you would be dead by now. Why don't you make yourself comfortable? I don't think we'll have time to deal with you until after the fundraiser."
"Why do you want me alive?" she inquired. "Why not just kill me and get it over with?"
"Because I need your body," he stated matter-of-factly.
Amie's mouth dropped open at his words. Coming from an angel that could only mean one thing. He needed her as a vessel.
"What, surprised? You shouldn't be. Hunters actually make fantastic vessels, all that self-righteous need to do good, the mental preparedness, the things that make you what you are make you good vessels. I'll be back later," Bartholomew said as he opened another door in the office and stepped through it. "Don't cause any trouble," he told her as he leaned in to grab the door and pull it shut.
Amie took off her coat and hung it on a chair. She headed directly for the door that Bartholomew had just gone through. It was, of course, locked. She leaned against it, hoping she could hear something.
"Bartholomew, you have to let her go. She is not meant to be a vessel. She is meant for something else, something far more important. You must let her go." Amie stepped back from the door slightly. That voice belonged to Katarina. She put her ear back to the door.
"What do you mean, she is meant for something else?" she heard Bartholomew ask.
"I saw it, the first time I healed her. I'm not sure exactly what it is, but whatever it is, it is not for us to change. If she is used as a vessel, it will alter the plan, change everything. That is not for us to do." Amie could swear it sounded as if Katarina was crying.
What the hell was she talking about? She couldn't possibly be talking about her, could she? Amie stepped back from the door, confused.
She heard a choking sound from behind the door, followed by a gasp. She saw a brief flash of light from behind the door, then it went black. Seconds later, another door slammed in the room.
Amie crossed to the window and looked out, hoping to see the Impala parked on the street. Instead she saw a dank, dimly lit alley. She hoped Dean was somewhere close by.
The desk across the room had a phone on it. She was sure it wouldn't work, but she tried it anyway. Dead. She started digging through the drawers, looking for anything she could use. She finally found a wooden handled silver letter opener in the middle drawer. Perfect. She took it to the door between the rooms and shoved it between the doorjamb and the door, took off her shoe and smacked it against the handle of the letter opener. The door popped open.
Amie counted to thirty. When she didn't hear anything and no one came through the hallway door, she put her shoe back on and slid into the room.
The room was lit by a small lamp in the corner. Katarina was duct-taped to a chair against the wall. Amie hurried over to her. She appeared to be alive, but unconscious. She was also beat to shit, which Amie hadn't thought possible. Angels couldn't be hurt.
First thing was first though. Amie swung in a circle, looking for anything she could use to contact Dean. There was no phone, but there was a computer, humming quietly. She sat at the desk and accessed the internet. She logged into her cell provider's website, pulled up the text messaging feature and typed in Dean's number.
"It's Amie. Phone taken, using computer. Third floor of church, find alley in back. Katarina here, hurt. Honk when you are in place." She clicked send, praying it worked.
"Alright Katarina, time to wake up," she muttered as she crossed the room to the angel. She used the letter opener to cut the duct tape on Katarina's arms and legs, before crouching in front of her. She shook the angel's leg. "Katarina, wake up. Katarina?"
She came to slowly, a confused look on her face. "Amie? Are you still you?" she asked.
"Yep, still me," she replied. "For now anyway. What the hell happened to you?"
Katarina sat up in the chair, her head in her hands. "Bartholomew found out I knew where Castiel was. When he was attempting to…persuade me to tell him his location, I told him about the spell. And you. He decided that rather than find Castiel, he would create his own fallen angel."
"What do you mean?" Amie asked, though she was pretty sure she knew the answer. "You? He took your grace?"
Katarina could only nod. Amie wasn't sure what to say, she'd never had to comfort an angel before, let alone a fallen angel. But just as she was going to try, she heard the distant honking of a horn.
"That's Dean," she said as she crossed to the window. She looked out and saw the familiar shape of Dean's beloved car parked in the alley behind the church. Just like she'd told him. She unlocked the window, looking over her shoulder to see if Katarina was moving. The now former angel was crossing the room to join Amie.
Amie pushed the window up as far as it would go and leaned out. She could see Dean standing by the trunk of the car. She called his name as quietly as she could until he looked up at her. When they made eye contact, relief washed over his face. She totally understood, she wasn't sure she'd ever been more relieved to see him either.
"Stay there," he mouthed. She watched him and Sam make their way toward a door just below the windows. Dean crouched in front of it, obviously picking the lock. She stepped back and closed the window. She paced the room nervously while she waited.
Within ten minutes, Amie saw a flash of light under the door to the hallway, then it crashed open, Dean's footprint in the middle of it.
"Subtle," she said as she crossed the room to his waiting arms. She threw her arms around him, letting him lift her off of the floor with one arm as he kissed her.
"Hey baby," he said. "You ready to go?"
"Hell, yeah," she mumbled. "More than ready. Katarina comes with us, I'll explain later."
Dean nodded and took Amie's hand, putting her behind him. Katarina followed her, with Sam at the back. They moved rapidly through the building, until they reached the classroom she'd seen earlier. The lights came on just as they entered the room.
Two rather large men stood in front of them, blocking their route out of the building. One of them stepped forward. "I'm sorry but I can't let you leave. Please come with me," he said calmly.
"A polite angel? That's a new one. Most of the angels I've met have been dicks," Dean said as he rushed the angel, knocking him to the ground.
Taking his cue from his brother, Sam launched himself at the other angel. They hit a table, breaking it and sending chairs flying. Dean stood up, only to be thrown back to the ground, his blade flying out of his hand. The angel he was fighting ran toward Amie, but before he could grab her, she brought her leg up in a roundhouse kick, hitting him directly in the face, her heel gouging his eye. He hit the floor immediately, hand covering his face. Dean was on his feet in an instant, scooping up his angel blade as he ran across the room to stab the angel. Amie covered her eyes as the angel's death caused the room to fill with light. Dean swung around and ran to help Sam, blade raised.
Amie felt arms close around her from behind. She immediately brought her foot up and drove it into the top of the foot of whoever had grabbed her. When one of the arms fell away, she took the opportunity to pull her skirt up and slide the angel blade from the holster on her thigh. Without turning around, she drove it backward as hard as she could into the chest of the angel holding her. White light surrounded her. She fell backward, toppling to the ground as the angel she had just killed collapsed. As she fell, she saw another flash of light from the other side of the room.
Amie tried to stand up, but the heel of her shoe was literally embedded more than an inch in the top of the dead angel's foot. By the time she slipped both shoes off, Dean was standing in front of her with his hand out to help her up.
"Nice work," he grinned as he pulled her to her feet. "You and your damn shoes."
"You have to admit that they do come in handy at times," she retorted. "I'm gonna miss this pair."
"Hurry, before someone else comes. We need to get out of here," Dean ordered.
Amie dropped Dean's hand and ran across the room to Katarina. She was standing in a corner, tears running down her face. Amie took her hand and pulled her from the corner. "Come on, let's go," she said. They needed to move, the former angel would have to process this later.
Katarina nodded and followed Amie as she carefully stepped through the debris from the broken table. Dean and Sam were waiting at a side door that she guessed exited into the alley. She pushed Katarina through the door ahead of her and they both ran for the Impala.
Amie saw Castiel step from the car, his face shocked at the sight of Katarina. When they got to the car, he pushed her into the back seat then ducked in behind her. Amie yanked open the front door and nearly dove in, Dean behind her. He started the car and was already moving when Sam slammed the passenger side door, yelling "Go, go," as he did. Amie looked over her shoulder to see several more angels including Bartholomew running down the sidewalk toward them. Dean hit the gas and pulled out of the alley, tires squealing as he swung around a corner and accelerated away from Reverend Boyle's church.