Silent Restraint

Dean drummed his fingers on the hood of Baby impatiently. Dex was sitting in shotgun, curled up with her eyes closed but he knew she wasn't asleep. She'd been very distant since that night. Even when he brought the pies back. He had tried to be calm about it. It would only take them a couple days to reach the location on the paper, so he spent that time working on the personality disorder he was developing.

The paper Bayleigh's sister had given him had coordinates on it, and now they were on a deserted highway in Wisconsin, parked in a turnoff. If the trees weren't there, they would have a view of the sun setting over Lake Superior.

Dean tensed at the sounds of something crashing through the underbrush. Dex sat up, alert. She leaned out the window to say something, but two figures crashed out of the trees before she could get more than 'What-' out.

Dean jumped to action, in the car and starting it in seconds. The back door flew open and Bayleigh slid in behind Dean, closely followed by Sam. They were wet and dirty and Sam was shivering. Dean stepped on the gas and Dex turned on the heater for him. She turned around to look at the two strangers in the backseat and smiled. The girl was pushing off Sam's jacket, rubbing his arms, trying to get him warm even though she was just as wet as he was. They both had a bluish tint to their lips.

"I'm Dex Casey," she said. "You're Sam and you're..."

"Amare," she grunted. Sam and Amare's eyes didn't leave each other and Dex had the sensation of interrupting a very emotional moment. She turned back around in her seat slowly.

"Where are we going?" Dean asked finally.

"As far away from here as you can get," Sam gasped. They were stripping off their wet clothes and tossing them out the window now. Dex turned up the heater again.

"California. I'll call up Garth and have him meet us there," Dean muttered.

A private conversation had stuck up in the back seat that Dex couldn't keep herself from listening into. By the hunch of Dean's shoulders, she knew he was listening, too.

"What are these?" Sam murmured. He touched the bandages on Amare's wrists. His teeth had stopped chattering and he could speak freely now.

"Nothing," she whispered, but he was already unwrapping them. Blood flowed freely down her wrists and bare forearms from two slim, straight cuts severing the vessels in her wrists.

"Jesus, Bay." He turned to Dex. "Will you hand me the first aid kit in the glove box, please?"

She jumped a bit, but nodded. "Yea, sure, hon." She retrieved it and handed it to him, then watched him patch her up from the rear view mirror. The tenderness with which he did it and the worry and guilt on his face made her heart melt.

Sam put a hand on Amare's arm, but now she moved away from her. "Seat belt," she whispered hoarsely.

<><><><><>

Amare yawned as they passed the state line into Colorado. They hadn't stopped since Wisconsin. They had all taken turns driving, no one giving anyone any direction on where to drive; the destination was California, but the sporadic journey served only to lose any followers they may have. Sam had stayed on his side, respecting her distance and she appreciated it.

Dex had been the only on able to nod off on their road trip west. But now, she groaned. "Ugh, Jimmy, can we please pull over now? I'm not even asking for a motel. Just some time to sleep without moving. You fuckers drive like maniacs."

"Yea, sure," Dean replied quietly from the driver's seat.

"Jimmy?" Amare asked.

"She doesn't believe that I'm Dean Winchester."

"Not entirely," Dex corrected. She turned to the backseat passengers. "I'm waiting to meet a monster."

"You met Cas" Dean argued. "He's an angel. Same thing sometimes."

"She met Cas?" Sam asked. "I've been calling him for weeks."

Amare shook her head and said, "As soon as they realized you were a Winchester, Jason had then put up anti-demon and Enochian symbols. They didn't want anyone getting to you."

"Didn't stop you," he murmured with a slight smile.

"Well we're getting off topic," Dex interrupted. "Motel or car seat? My personal vote is motel but really I'll take either. Speak of the devil, don't you love no tell motels?"

Dean pulled over, silently craving the warmth of a bed. No one fought it. They got the room with the most beds, which ended up as two doubles and a rolling fold-up single that the maid wheeled in.

Dean stopped Sam as the girls brought their stuff inside. He looked at Sam for a second before giving him a brief hug with a pat on the back. A little surprised, Sam hugged him back.

"Glad you're okay, Sammy," he said gruffly.

"Yea," Sam replied, then followed him inside.

Dex immediately claimed one of the big beds and Sam ended up on the other one, even though he insisted Amare take it. Amare, meanwhile, took the couch; she assumed she was the only one who had consistently slept in a bed these last weeks and that they deserved it for the shit that she'd put them through. But that night, she didn't sleep.

She heard Dean get up in the middle of the night and followed him out. He stood at a snack vending machine, looking at it without seeing it. Amare said his name quietly and he jumped.

"What," he asked.

"I just wanted to say-"

"Look, Bayleigh, or Amare or whatever. I heard the whole damn story and there's nothing left for you to say, got it?"

She shook her head. "I-- I--" She swallowed. "...Okay."

But she didn't leave. She stayed out there with him for ten minutes, not saying anything, until the guilt built up so deep inside her she had to leave.

<><><><><>

They reached California a week later. They pulled up into an unfamiliar driveway and Amare couldn't stifle a grin when she say her Dodge sitting next to an old Toyota. She opened the door before Sam had even put the the car in park. Dean got out of shotgun and watched her, lips pursed and dimples present.

"You did this?" Sam asked. "Got her car here?"

Dean didn't reply, just grunted. Dex answered for him: "I was there when he made the phone call. He's secretly made of mush." She looked at the gruff hunter with a cheeky grin, but he wasn't really paying attention.

Reagan was coming out of the front door, a grin on her olive-skinned face. The three got out of the car. She approached Sam first and hugged him, then held him at arm's length.

"You good?" she asked with more tenderness than her words would suggest.

"Yea, thanks." He smiled tightly.

"Dean," she held out her arms and planted a kiss on his cheek. She turned to the small girl behind him. "And you are...?"

Dex smiled. "Dex."

"Reagan. Nice to meet you. So that's the owner of the car?" Reagan nodded over in the direction of the Dodge.

Sam had wandered over and was leaning in the passenger window, watching Amare inspect her car from the driver's seat. Reagan cleared her throat.

"You look like you need a beer. Hell, you all do. But I think we should just let them... anywho, Garth should be here soon if you all wanna come inside." She led the way and the front door clicked lightly behind them.

Amare had her hands on the steering wheel, caressing it, a small smile on her face. She barely heard when Sam said her name. He said it again.

"Amare?"

"Yea?" she asked breathlessly.

"Can we talk?"

Her eyes shifted to his face. "Sam..."

"Look, this is the first time in... in years, I feel like I want a real relationship. With you."

"If this is about all that stuff Ren was saying about us-"

"No, look, she didn't have to say any of that. It just made... made us make more sense."

"Sam-"

"I understand why you were fighting it before. But now we're out." She didn't say anything, just looked at him. "Now there's nothing keeping us apart. I know they're still out there. But with you and me and Dean and a whole nation of hunters behind us, we're unstoppable."

Suddenly she leaned over and unlocked the passenger side door. "Get in the car, Sam." He hesitated.

And then she gave him the brightest smile ever. It literally stretched from ear to ear, bulging her cheeks slightly as she blushed. "Get in," she whispered, almost a challenge, and before he could even sit down properly, the Dodge rumbled to life. She was practically glowing with excitement.

Amare grinned and pressed on the gas, the rumble of the Dodge beneath her, the wind in her face. Sam beside her. She hit the play button and Night Flight by Led Zeppelin played. She turned it up as loud as it would go, singing along with him. Sam joined at the parts he knew, his hand on the back of her neck, tangled in her hair. She laughed, exuberant. And in that moment, she was the happiest she'd been in years.

She swerved off the road as the song ended, unbuckling and crawling over to sit on Sam. She ran her hands through his hair, kissing his jaw and his throat. This is what they, perhaps, enjoyed the most about each other: they could both sit and not say a word and know exactly what the other was thinking. She grinned when he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing against her lips, his stubble brushing her lips and cheeks. His laugh was breathy, and suddenly she couldn't contain herself.

She kissed him, her hands running over his unexposed body, touching every part of him she could reach, soaking it up, deprived. But she was having issues getting his clothes off. So she dragged him out of the car. He didn't question, just followed her back into the treeline.

They took their time from there. Neither of them cared who found them because they'd found each other again and it was the best thing ever.