Seventeen

Back to The Bunker

Can't we be seventeen?
That's all I want to do
If you could let me in
I could be good with you

Overture

On November the 17th, 2002, somewhere in Portland, Emily Reed shut her AP chem notebook and stretched her arms up. She paused the music on her Walkman and heard her mom talking with the adoption center on the phone. She couldn’t wait to meet her brother or her sister. It was exciting, welcoming a new life into her family and also helping someone in need. Or at least, that’s what her mother had always said. She looked at the teddy bear shaped clock on her pink shelf. Time to head to ballet class. She had class from three to six, then rehearsals until nine. They were doing Swan Lake, and she’d been chosen for the role of Odette and Odile. She also had to sew a pair of shoes, because hers were dead and she couldn’t risk an injury.

        She wasn’t a regular 12-year-old, by any means. Her mother and her teachers said she’d exceeded expectations in every aspect of her life. Astounding in school, talented in ballet and theater, somehow balanced those two things with a decent enough social life. She was four years ahead in school, a goal no one had ever reached - at least as far as she had read in books and novels. The other sophomores treated her like a little sister. Protect her from bullies, drove her to school, invited her to the dance and went to see her ballet performances, always bothering everybody else who had the bad luck of sitting in the theater that night.  

        Emily packed her black leotard, her pink tights - standard academic uniform - and a new pair of pointe shoes, kissed her mom on the cheek and sprinted to catch the bus. The second she sat down, she opened her dance bag and got to work sewing her shoes. It was a long ride from Rivergrove to Oregon Ballet Theater, which gave Emily plenty of time to daydream.

        She wondered as she darned the point of the shoe if all those sewing skills would help her be a better surgeon. People, boys in particular, would go their entire lives without ever sewing anything, so coming into med school already knowing how to do a variety of stitches must have been a good advantage in order to become the youngest surgeon of her century. Having perfectly sewn shoes and being the youngest Odette her school had ever cast would have been incredible on a resume as a ballet dancer, though. Junior year was approaching, and after junior year came senior year, and by then - she should have already decided what to do with her life.

        Performing arts or medicine? That was her biggest worry. It was going to change the course of her entire life. Job security or her lifelong dream of being a ballerina? Two parallel, never-touching roads. And Emily had to pick one. It was all she could think about some nights. It was her only worry, except whether she was going to get a role in that year’s production of A Midsummer Night's Dream.

        Emily got off the bus at 14:10 sharp, like every other day, and sat down on a bench right by the Willamette to wait for her fellow dancers. She had no idea that her name was important in a certain department of the universe. The people who deemed her so important had big plans for her. These plans wouldn’t have started for at least one more year.

In July of 2002, Dean Winchester was spending his first ever summer without his brother Sam since he was three. His father, John, didn’t care that it was summer. It was actually better, because it meant Dean didn’t have to study for his GED, so he had more time for hunting and looking for the thing that killed Mary. Mary was Dean’s mom, and John - his father - talked about her like a literal angel. She used to be sweet and compassionate. The perfect mom, the perfect wife, but Dean remembered how much they used to fight. Their marriage was never perfect until after she was dead. He’d had just turned twenty-three and John had finally agreed to let him hunt alone, and that meant he could spend the night taking a shot at every single man and woman in the bar. He wasn’t going back to the motel by himself: he needed company. With Sam gone, he felt a looming sense of emptiness, almost like something had been taken away from him and he wasn’t quite sure on how to fill it. The best way he’d found was getting blackout drunk, popping a couple of pain meds and finding a hook up. Or two, the night was long. A good thing about being alone was that he didn’t have to stick to girls just to keep John at bay.

Dean had been a hunter his entire life. He’d never heard of Emily, or seen a ballet performance. A very specific department of the universe had been working his case for a long time, working to ensure he would be exactly where they wanted him when the time came.

 On Friday the 17th, 2002, somewhere in Michigan, more than two thousand miles away from Emily, a seemingly unimportant boy was about to finish his piano practice. He was sitting at his desk, bent over his portable keyboard, earphones in his ears, listening to Odette’s solo for the fiftieth time that night alone. He didn’t like Tchaikovsky, but what eight year old does?

        He was a normal, ambitious boy attending third grade. At that moment in time, his biggest ambition was beating Jason Dean at chess in the spring tournament and winning the annual spelling bee his school held. Also, finishing his piano practice. He didn't do sports, but he was still a brilliant student. Not so that he would skip grades, but good enough for his mother to hope he would go to Harvard, or Princeton. The boy didn’t understand why she made such a fuss about his grades. Mark, Jason Dean’s brother’s best friend’s cousin, was an adult (he had a car and everyone knows you get a car when you’re an adult) and he said grades don’t matter at all. But still his mother insisted - he had to get good grades. For his future.

        The boy looked at the Gameboy Color he had borrowed from Johnatan. He remembered he still had to finish Pokémon Crystal and suddenly lost all interest in Tchaikovsky and his stupid swans. Swans were a girls thing anyway. He reached for the Gameboy and turned it on, careful not to be heard from his mom.

        Just like Emily, the boy's name was also known in a certain side of the universe, but that wouldn't be relevant to his life for a decade more.

Act I

---

What is this feeling?

From Wicked

Halloween, 2005.

Dean parked in front of an apartment complex. The street was dark, a veil of fog wrapping the area, and humidity so thick Emily’s hands somehow felt wet. She didn’t bother saying anything, just looked up from her book and rolled her eyes. Of course it was a half decent place. There were no prostitutes, no weird men looking at her, nobody was doing drugs in a corner. Dean usually got out of the car in a rush after parking, but not that time. She’d planned on keeping reading her book while Dean handled his ‘situation’, so when he stayed in the car a second too long, she looked back up from her book, a complaint already coming out of her mouth.

In the previous years, she’d come to learn that Dean was anything but ordinary. Not in a good way. He was obsessed with his ‘mission’ of avenging his mom and his attitude with anything that moved and could have offered him intercourse was just disgusting. But she tolerated him. She had to. He and John were the only thing separating her from CPS and foster families. However, since the moment she’d met him, Dean had built a habit of acting like a jerk to her, and she’d taken a habit of being insufferable in return. She might have been small and nice looking, but she knew how to stand up to bullies. She’d been four years ahead in school, she could figure out that much. The complaint went unnoticed as Dean stared out the window and didn’t say a-single-fucking-word. After a few minutes, Emily just went back to tolerating him in silence and to her book.

Four hours. That’s how long Dean took to get out of the car. Four infinite hours to get in the building. Emily finished her book and slammed it close, annoyed. The sound awakened Dean, who pushed the car door open and stood outside. Well, thought Emily, all this to go talk to his brother? In theory, their brother. If Dean was her half brother, Sam had to be, too. What was the big deal with Sam, anyway? He was just another Winchester. One would think two would be more than enough, but no. Sam was The-One-Who-Made-It-Out. John Winchester’s pride and Dean Winchester’s sole friend. Which was understandable, since he was insufferable to anybody else. Especially to Emily.

Dean didn’t like chick flicks - he made that clear from the very beginning: every romance scene in a movie was time wasted, and people talking about their feelings was usually regarded as something for gay people. Of course, ‘gay’ was not the word Dean’d used, although those remarks were exhilarating to Emily, for two reasons: First, Dean was definitely gay. He could hide it as much as he wanted, but Emily witnessed him make out with a male bartender. And second, he didn’t like chick flicks, but he sure had liked bitching and moaning about his little brother being gone for the previous two years. He sure liked waiting outside of buildings for four hours. Emily pulled the door handle and stepped out of the Impala to smoke. Dean turned towards her for the first time since he’d parked the car and widened his eyes. Emily figured he’d forgotten she was there. She did her best to ignore him and leaned on the car on the opposite side from Dean, so as not to hear him complain about the smell.

“Alright, I’m gonna go in,” he announced. To whom, Emily didn’t know. She wasn’t listening. She didn’t care what he did or where he went. He walked around the car and when he passed in front of her, he grabbed the cigarette and threw it to the ground.

“Hey!” she complained as Dean stepped over the cigarette.

“Wait here,” he said. Emily scoffed. She didn’t have to be told twice. The last thing she needed was spending time with Sam, The Golden Boy. Him and his amazing monster-free life at Stanford were ruining her life. Why did they need him anyway? Emily could figure out what happened to John. He was dead. But no, Dean would not accept that as an answer. In fact, she’d already almost gotten slapped over it. Twice. She could have figured herself in advance that stating the obvious was regarded as taking it too far by Dean Winchester.

Emily didn’t care what he thought, or what happened to John. She just had to stick with them for four more years. Then she’d be eighteen and she’d leave. Get back to her life. Go to Stanford. Exactly where Sam, The Golden Boy, went. No, actually, she’d go to an even better school. She was going to Harvard. She’d be a non-korean, non-brunette Cristina Yang from Grey’s Anatomy. First of her class, hungry for surgery, hungry for success, youngest surgeon ever. Emily lit up another cigarette, then went to sit inside. If Dean didn’t see her, he couldn’t complain. She could open the windows and the smell wouldn't even permeate the seats. She pulled the door handle, but nothing happened. There was no way that Dean had locked her out, right? It was fifty fucking degrees and she was wearing a sweater under overalls. She tried pulling harder, and the door opened, hitting her thigh and making her drop the cigarette again. Emily bit the inside of her cheek. Her mother had thought her better than to curse. Stupid freaking piece of crap car. Whatever happened to John Winchester must have been repayment for buying such a stupid car and having such a stupid son who couldn’t even pretend to care about Emily’s wellbeing.

The only reason Dean always tried to make her stop smoking was because John always told her to stop. And Dean looked up at John like nuns look at the picture of Jesus. The level of idolization was ridiculous.

When Dean came back, a tall, scrawny dark haired guy- Emily could only assume it was Sam- was walking a few steps behind him. Sam didn't look like Emily imagined him. John never bothered showing her pictures: the Winchesters sure weren’t the “make memories together” kind of family. So, she had built this fantasy about him in her head that he was going to be blonde. Like, german-tourist blonde. And short. After all, they called him Sammy. The Golden Boy didn’t look half as cocky as Dean did. He only looked pissed. Understandable, since he had to interact with Dean. Sam walked closer to the car, where Emily was sitting, and opened the door to the passenger’s seat. He jumped back with a scared gasp. Dean sat in the driver seat and slammed the door closed.

 “Get in the back,” he said. Emily turned towards him and raised her eyebrows.

“Really?”

“In the back, now,” Dean repeated, starting the engine without looking at Emily.

“But I was here first,” she said. “Can’t he sit in the back?!”

“No,” said Dean. “He was here first.” He pointed to Sam. Emily huffed. “You just fell into my lap and refused to leave.”

“I didn’t-” Emily opened her mouth a couple of times, at a loss for words, then decided to just comply: she didn’t have it in her. Not at three in the morning after already enduring him for a twelve hour drive. “You know what? Nevermind, I’ll just move.” She stepped out of the car and almost bumped into Sam, who was still looking at her, confused. Look more dumb, would you? “I’m sorry-” she said, with the fakest smile she could manage. She pulled the lever on the side of the car seat, folding it and hitting Dean’s back. He complained, but Emily ignored him. “Stupid car-” she said, climbing in the backseat. “Couldn’t get a regular, modern, five door car, could you?” Dean looked at Emily through the rearview mirror as she settled in the back seat. “No, it had to be a sixty-seven Impala-” she continued, mocking Dean’s voice. Sam sat down in the front seat. Emily could see him frowning and trying to get a better look at her from the rearview mirror. Of course Dean wasn't going to be a normal person and introduce her, which was a great possibility to piss him off. “You didn’t tell me you were gonna bring someone else,” she said. “This is gonna cost you extra, you know?” Dean frowned and looked at her through the rearview mirror, while Sam looked at his brother and opened his mouth.

“Sam, meet Emily,” Dean said with a sigh. “She thinks she’s so funny.”  Sam’s eyes grew more confused as he turned to look at Emily.

“I’m your half sister,” she said. That didn’t make Sam’s frown any weaker. On the contrary. “That’s right, John Winchester’s had an extramarital affair, who would have guessed?”

“Emily-” Dean tried to interject but Sam turned towards Emily and spoke first.

“What did you just say?” he asked.

“I said John Winchester's had an extramarital affair,” Emily repeated. Was he deaf or something? Or maybe he didn’t know what extramarital meant?

“No, not that-” Sam blinked a couple of times, then turned towards Dean. “What the hell is going on?” he asked. “Since when- Since when we have a sister?!” Dean took a glance at Emily in the rearview mirror. The heat of the car seeped through her sweater, so she started to take it off.

“It’s a long story,” Dean sighed. “But in short- the thing that killed mom, killed her family too. Dad took her in.” Emily rolled her eyes. That was the most reductive, stupid explanation one could give of her situation. First, he didn’t know that for sure. No one knew that for sure. John had come to that conclusion without ever giving her a shred of explanation or proof. Second, John didn’t take her in. John lugged her around like a bag of sweaty leotards after a summer intensive. Hidden from everyone else, and with disgust. Sam pondered on Dean’s words for a few seconds, then turned towards Emily.

“I’m Sam, by the way,” he said with a smile. Emily raised her eyebrows and looked at Sam’s hand, waiting to shake hers. The stare went on for a few seconds, until Sam closed his hand and moved it away. “...okay… uh,” he hesitated, confused. “you- you like musical theater?” he asked. Emily’s eyebrows furrowed, but then Sam pointed to her Wicked t-shirt. “I went to see Wicked last year, Idina Menzel is seriously talented, right?” When she didn’t answer, Dean turned, too.

“Emily,” he said, “cut it out.” Sam turned towards Dean, a hint of surprise in his eyes.

“I guess she’s alright,” said Emily, “I didn’t get to see the show, though.” Sam opened his mouth, “on account of John not letting me go.”

“We got you the tape, isn’t that the same damn thing?” asked Dean.

“No!” “No!” said Emily and Sam. Sam smiled, amused. Emily, instead, looked disgusted for a moment, then took her walkman from her bag and pressed play.

November 2nd, 2005.

On Sunday night, Dean dropped Sam off in front of the same apartment complex he’d picked him up from. Emily stared out the window as Dean failed to convince his brother to stay. Their conversation moved away from the car and Emily took the opportunity to climb back into the front seat putting both feet on the leather. Sam wasn’t gonna stay anyway. He didn’t want to.

“Next stop?” she asked when Dean was back in the car. “I saw a motel-”

“Shut up a goddamn minute,” he said, looking out of the window. What was he looking at? Emily leaned forward to look at the building and just a moment after, she saw an orange light tremble in one of the windows. It took her a second to realize. Fire.

There was a fire.

Just like when her mom died.

Dean sprinted out of the car, but Emily didn't make it more than two steps away. She knew what she should have done. She knew she was supposed to follow Dean, follow John’s teachings, but she could not move. It didn’t matter how much John’s voice screamed in her head, Alex screamed louder. Her legs gave out and she slid against the Impala and to the ground.

Alex’s crib was on fire. He was trying to cry- desperate for oxygen. Emily took him in her arms and tried not to scream, burning her hands. She placed her t-shirt over Alex’s mouth and nose- please don’t die, please- Suddenly, Emily felt light, then heavy. She heard a rhythmic beeping. Hospital. She was in the hospital.

She fought to open her eyes for what felt like minutes. The first thing she saw was Dean sitting in the opposite corner of the room. He was, of course, distracted by Sam, who was pacing just outside. She tried to move, but all that came out was a groan of pain. Dean’s eyes shifted over to her.

“Look who’s awake,” he said with a stern look. “How are you feeling?”

“What is Sam doing here?” she asked. Dean glanced outside the room and didn’t answer. It took Emily a couple of seconds to realize what had happened. There was only one reason Sam would agree to be there instead of with Jessica or at his stupid job interview. Jessica was dead. As for Emily, she had failed to be a hunter for what had to be the hundredth time. “Alright, let me hear it,” she sighed. “I’m a poor excuse for a hunter and a weak idiot.” Dean looked at her for a few seconds and stood up, his expression indecipherable to Emily.

Was he angry? Worried? Disappointed? Was he gonna scream? Emily braced herself for the fight of a century, but then Dean spoke.

“Later,” he said. No screaming. No yelling. Something was up. “Now, care to explain why I have a dozen of shrinks and CPS workers running behind me?” Emily looked at him and tried to think of an answer. Just telling him they’re looking for his big childish behind wasn’t a good enough response. Dean looked down at her lap, and she did too. Her long sleeve t-shirt and her overalls were gone and they had been replaced by a hospital gown and a plastic bracelet that said Veronica Sawyer on it. The bracelet was tied around her wrist and contrasted with the marks the fire had left her. Just above it, a collection of scars and cuts that were not from the fire. Not at all. Ah, freak.

“They’re from hunting,” she said. Her voice came out so unconvincing she couldn’t even fool herself. Dean’s hand slammed on the tray that hung at the end of the bed. Emily flinched, her eyes shutting close for a moment. There he was. Dean Winchester in all his violent, abusive glory.

“Goddamnit, Emily, when were you going to tell me or dad about that?!” he asked. Emily scoffed. “Don’t get me wrong, I knew you were weird, but this-”

“Tell you and dad? For what?!” she asked. “What would you have done about it?” Dean looked at her. He didn’t have an answer. Of course he didn’t. Dean didn’t know anything without John present. All he knew came from John’s journal, and it sure didn’t cover mental health. “Yeah, just what I thought.”

“Don’t act smart with me,” said Dean. “You’re lucky dad isn’t here, because if he knew-”

“He wouldn’t do anything, just like you won’t, because he doesn’t care about these things!” yelled Emily. Sam turned around and looked at her through the glass. He stared at her for a couple of seconds as Dean walked closer to Emily, before he resumed pacing.

“Yeah well, I’m not dad, so…” Dean paused. “You’re not hunting with me.” Emily opened her mouth. “You’re on the bench.”

“What?!” Emily complained. “I-”

“Get your shit together,” Dean said. “Until you do, you don’t leave the motel. Period.”

“You’re joking, right?!” Emily complained. “I’m not a child! I can take care of myself!”

“Can you?” Dean grabbed her wrist and shook it in front of her face. “I’m getting tired of this shit, you know? Life sucks sometimes, get over yourself.”

It had been a month after the fire at Stanford, and Emily had memorized every stain on every cup at the diner. She was on her third cup of coffee, sitting across from Dean. He’d been shot down by just about every single male and female waiter in the room and got so bored he had started searching for cases in the local newspaper. Emily couldn’t complain: it was enough that Dean had let her out of the motel at all.  For the first few weeks after getting out of the hospital, after taking her gun, Dean had locked Emily alone in every motel they’d visited, until one night he must have realized being alone all the time just gave her more opportunities to hurt herself, and started dragging her around every store they went to. She just couldn’t hold a gun or hunt at all. For that, she’d have to go back to the motel. Often by herself, often by foot. The urgent nature of their job had the priority over whether she got picked up by a child molester on the way.

“Have you found anything?” she asked, bouncing her leg up and down under the table. She had to wait a good thirty seconds before he answered her.

“Yeah.” Dean circled an obituary with a red pen. “Body wasn’t found.” Emily barely looked at the obituary and nodded. Whatever case was fine, she wasn’t going to participate anyway. Him pretending to include her in the process was just an act to keep her quiet. The door to the diner opened and Sam appeared through the door. The waiter approached the table and smiled. Dean fixed himself in the chair and smirked to the waiter.

“Can I get you anything else?” he asked. Sam sat next to Emily, pushing her further into the bench, and didn’t give Dean the chance to flirt.

“Just the check, please.” The waiter nodded and walked away, which prompted Dean to release a frustrated groan.

“You know, Sam,” he said. “We’re allowed to have fun once in a while.” Emily looked at the waiter and frowned.

“You call that… fun?” she asked. The waiter wasn’t even hot.  

“I mean, yeah.” Dean shrugged. “Sex is sex, you know. No need to be picky.”

“Yeah, sex is sex or whatever,” Emily said, looking away. Sam snickered. “What?” Emily leaned back on the bench and looked at him.

“What would you know about sex?” he asked.

“The same things you know,” she answered, crossing her arms.

“Yeah- right.”

“I’m sorry, do you have an opinion on my sex life?” asked Emily, her voice coming out way too high for her to seem calm. Dean rolled his eyes.

“I got us a case,” he said, interrupting Emily's complaint. “If you’re done bickering like five year olds.” Emily rolled her eyes and grabbed Dean’s cup of coffee. She took a sip and eyed Sam as he thanked the waitress for the cup of coffee she’d just brought him. “Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin. Last week. Sophie Carlton, eighteen, walks into the lake, doesn't walk out.” Sam took out his laptop and opened it. “Authorities dragged the water, nothing,” Dean said. Emily leaned left towards Sam to see what he was typing. “Sophie Carlton is the third Lake Manitoc drowning this year. None of the other bodies were found either.” Dean reached for the coffee cup Emily had taken and looked inside of it to find it empty. “They had a funeral two days ago.”

“A funeral?” Sam shifted his eyes off the laptop and back at Dean.

“Yeah- they buried an empty coffin,” said Dean, gesturing towards the waitress for more coffee. “Closure or whatever.”

“Closure?” said Sam. “What closure? People don't just disappear, Dean. Other people just stop looking for them.” Not this again, thought Emily, leaning back in her side of the boot. Sam had been more and more a pain in her behind after the hospital. He acted like nobody was ever doing enough to find John, to find what killed Jessica. Sometimes, Sam reminded Emily of John. Dean adjusted himself on the bench and looked at Sam.

“Something you want to say to me?” he asked. Emily tried to take Dean’s cup again, but he moved it away.

“The trail for dad,” said Sam with a deep sigh. “It’s getting colder everyday.” Emily released an annoyed noise and leaned back into the bench. Sam looked at her but ignored her.

“Exactly, what are we supposed to do about it?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know,” said Sam.  

“Oh, you don’t know?” Emily interjected. “Why am I not surprised?” Sam and Dean looked at each other for a moment, remained silent, then resumed their argument.

“Look Sam - We’re the ones that have been stuck with him- every single day- for the past two years,” said Dean, “so- drop the attitude, okay? We’ve got enough of that.” Dean looked towards Emily, who opened her mouth to try and defend herself. “Oh, please- spare me.” Dean stood up, left some money on the table and headed out of the diner.

Emily got lugged around by Dean through the preliminary work of the case. They talked with the sheriff and Dean had wasted no time before he hit on his daughter, Andrea. There was also a kid, Lucas, who had not said a word at all. They didn’t find out much from the victim’s friends, family and colleagues, and Dean had sent Emily out to buy lunch, which was most of what she did those days. She entered the motel room holding a paper bag containing hamburgers and fries.

“Anything new on the case?” she asked, throwing Dean his hamburger. She turned towards Sam. “I got you a burger, too.”

“Oh, no, it’s… it’s fine,” Sam said. “I’m not hungry.”

“What else is new,” Dean sighed, rolling his eyes while he unwrapped the burger. Sam cleared his voice and sat straighter in his chair. “Just eat the damn burger, Sam.” Emily looked at him: he certainly could have used a burger, but anybody could have said the same of her, so who was she to cast judgement? She dropped the paper bag in front of Sam, who looked at it with a certain disdain. “Apparently,” Dean continued, “there were six more vics in the past thirty five years. If something really is in that lake, it’s picking up its pace.”

“Any theories?” asked Emily, dropping on her bed. Sam scratched his nose, thinking.

“Not really,” he said. “There really isn’t any reliable eyewitness to lake monsters, like… Loch Ness, for example.”

“Maybe nobody’s living to tell the story,” she wondered. Sam continued reading on his laptop, and Dean stood behind him, eating his burger. “Wait- Barr, Christopher Barr,” he said, pointing at something on the screen. “Where have I heard that name before?”

“It’s uh- the victim in May,” said Sam. Emily stood up, too, and walked next to Dean. “He was Andrea’s husband, Lucas’ father. Apparently he took Lucas out swimming. Lucas was on a floating wooden platform when Chris drowned. Two hours before the kid got rescued.”

“Jesus- No wonder Lucas is scared out of his mind,” Emily said. Sam glared at her from behind his shoulder. “That’s not something you get over with.”

“We should go talk to Andrea,” said Sam. Dean nodded and grabbed his jacket. He looked up and saw Emily also reaching for her backpack.

“Right,” he sighed and looked at Sam, who shrugged and walked past him. “Emily, you wait for us here, okay?” Emily frowned. “Keep… uh- keep researching the lake’s history?”

“Oh, come on, still? It’s been more than a month. This isn’t even-” Dean tried to answer. “We’re talking with people, can I not even do that now?!” Dean took a deep breath.

“Okay,” he answered, “but you know what? You’re glued to my ass.” Emily rolled her eyes.

“You make me seriously want to freaking kill myself, you know that?” she said, reaching for her backpack. Dean looked at Sam, trying to hold back laughter. “What?!” Emily complained.

“Did you just say ‘freaking’?” Dean asked with a smirk. Sam smiled. “What, you think mommy’s gonna take away your toys if you swear?” Emily raised her eyebrows and Sam’s smile vanished. Already with the big guns.

“No, but mine taught me basic manners, didn’t yours?” she asked, not bothering to look at him while taking stuff out of her backpack.

Please don’t die, please don’t die- As she turned the other way to run out of the room, she saw it. Her mom’s body. She was on the ceiling, just above the door. Flames had already eaten away at half her face and were quickly making their way in the rest of her body. Emily’s hands felt like they were about to explode. Alex had stopped crying. The sound of the sirens outside weren’t enough to make Emily move.

She was dead.

Her mom was dead.

And Alex had stopped crying.

“Hey!” called a voice. “Emily?” called Sam’s voice. Emily was standing outside the Impala, staring at a house in the distance. It looked very similar to the one she used to live in.

“Uh?” The memories of the night that took her family away were still rampaging hard in her mind, but fading as Sam’s voice replaced them.  

“Can I ask you something?” he asked. Emily nodded.

“Can you get through here?” Emily managed to look away from her mother’s body. A firefighter was trying to help her through the half-collapsed door. “Come on, there’s no time to lose! Give me the baby.”

The car door slammed, startling Emily so much she released a strangled yelp. Dean looked at her, annoyed.

“What’s wrong with you now?” he asked.

“Sorry, I was…” She looked at Sam, realizing she’d been talking to her. “What were you saying?” Sam frowned and followed Dean away from the car. Emily did the same. She recognized Andrea in the distance: she was Lucas’ mom and the wife of Christopher Barr, who’d gone missing years before in that lake.

“Can we join you?” Sam asked. Andrea looked at Emily and frowned.

“Is it still bring-your-daughter-to-work day?” she asked, pointing at Emily.

“It’s for the week.” Sam smiled. “Are you here with your son?” Andrea nodded and pointed to the kid in the park.

“Mind if we say hi?” Dean smiled and pointed to Lucas. Emily had noticed that often, when Dean smiled, women gave him what he wanted. Andrea, too, fell into that pattern, and agreed. Dean gestured at Emily to follow him and walked towards Lucas.

“Do I have to come with you?” she whispered, following him closely. She didn’t feel comfortable around Lucas. He was silent, never smiled, and stared at her way too much. Like he knew all her secrets.

“I told you, glued to my ass,” answered Dean, pushing her in front of him. Emily sighed, walking a few steps behind Dean.

“Why do I have to talk with the kid? Can’t I speak with Andrea?” Dean stopped and grabbed her from her overalls to stop her, too. She turned.  

“You’re a weirdo. Grown ups don’t like weirdos,” he said, looking back just for a moment before walking past her.

“I’m not a-” Dean picked up the pace. and sat next to Lucas, leaving Emily no choice but to walk to him.

“How’s it going?” he asked. His tone changed so much that Emily had to make a double take to make sure Dean was still the one talking. Lucas didn’t say anything, nor looked at them. He continued coloring his drawing. Emily stood behind Dean and looked at the drawing Lucas was making. “Come on, sit down,” said Dean. Emily tried to ignore him. “Oh, come on-” Dean picked up a toy soldier. “Me and Lucas are playing with soldiers, you should too.” He looked towards Lucas. “Right, Lucas?” The kid ignored him. With a sigh, Emily sat next to Lucas, opposite from Dean. “I used to love these things,” he said. Emily picked up a soldier and moved it closer to Dean’s. She imitated the sound of an explosion and pushed Dean’s soldier down. Dean chuckled. Lucas didn’t move his eyes off his drawing. “Okay,” said Dean. “So- crayons’ more your thing? That's cool. Chicks dig artists.” He looked at Emily. “Right?” She didn’t answer. Dean sighed and handed her a piece of paper and a pink crayon. She looked at him for a moment, went to pick up a different color, but hesitated. In the end, she drew a ballerina, which was the only thing she could draw with a singular pink crayon, while Dean drew a group of four stickmen. She checked his drawing multiple times and soon realized that he was drawing his family. And she wasn’t in it. Unless he thought of her as a blonde woman, which she wasn’t.  “You know, I think you can hear me,” he said, glaring over at Lucas. “You just don’t want to talk.” What a terrible moment to choose to be nice, thought Emily, right after you forget about me in your freaking drawing. “I don't know exactly what happened to your dad, but I know it was something real bad. I think I know how you feel.” Dean looked at Emily for a moment, then at his drawing. “When I was your age, I saw something.” Emily stared at her drawing and dragged the crayon up and down on the ballerina’s tutu. The situation was uncomfortable enough before Dean started talking about how sad he was as a kid. “Anyway,” he continued after a second. “Well, maybe you don't think anyone will listen to you, or- or believe you. I want you to know that I will.” Emily raised her eyebrows, but kept looking at the drawing. “You don't even have to say anything. You could draw me a picture about what you saw that day, with your dad, on the lake.” In all of Dean’s nice big talk, Lucas never even looked up at him. He did, however, hand a light blue crayon to Emily. She used it to color the sky behind her ballerina. “Okay.” Dean put down the crayon. “No problem. This is for you.” He gave Lucas the drawing of his family. “This is my family,” he explained. “That's my dad.” He pointed to a stick figure of what was supposed to be John. “That's my mom, that's my geek brother, and that's me.” He pointed to all the stick figures, then grabbed Emily’s drawing from her and put it next to his. “And that’s my weirdo half sister,” he explained. Emily tried to explain that that wasn’t her, it was just a ballerina, but Dean didn’t let her. “She used to be one of those prima ballerinas, dancing on their toes.” Lucas didn’t look up. “That’s weird, right? I bet her toes are all crooked.” Dean paused for a few seconds and looked at Emily. “All right,” he sighed. “Looks like we’re terrible artists.”

“That was so stupid,” said Emily, as she paced behind Dean towards the car. Sam, a few steps behind her, sighed. “But now at least I know that you’re capable of being nice.” Dean didn’t turn. “I care for you, Lucas,” she said, imitating him. “I hear you, I will believe you.” Dean’s steps became longer as he hurried towards the car. “Was acting part of your hunter training, or-”

“Will you shut up?!” Dean asked, turning around. “I really don’t want to hear it.”

“Wow,” Emily sighed. “Bipolar, much?” Dean looked at Sam, who walked past them and ignored their argument. Emily walked behind him, leaving Dean alone with whatever problem he had.

When Dean turned off the engine of the Impala in front of the motel, he rushed out of it and slammed the door, which he never did. He was always careful with the Impala. Emily didn't have time to grab her backpack off the seat that Dean was already knocking on the window, hurrying her to get out.

“Jesus-” she mumbled, folding the front seat over itself and getting out of the car. “Why are we in a hurry?”

“Shut up and give me the keys.” Emily rolled her eyes and put a hand in her pocket, looking for the keys

“Wait,” she said, putting down her backpack to look in the other pockets of her overalls.

“The keys!” Dean repeated, extending out his hand.

“What is wrong with you?! I’m looking for them!” yelled Emily, looking for the keys in her backpack. “What? You were nice in front of me for like- a second and now you feel the need to compensate?”

“I said shut up!” Dean yelled back. Emily took the keys out of the backpack, but didn’t hand them to Dean. Sam sighed and shook his head.

“Don't tell me to shut up,” said Emily. “You’re not dad, you’re not my mother, so-” Dean’s fist clenched.

“Emily, the fucking keys,” he said.

“Spare me,” she answered, putting her hands on her waist, the keys dangling off her fingers. “You weren’t acting earlier, you can be nice! You just choose to be a fucking dick to me!”  

“You drive me fucking crazy by pulling stunts like this, that's why I’m a dick- now give me the keys!” repeated Dean. Emily ignored his request.

“Stunts? I haven’t done anything! I was just sitting in your stupid car! Is that illegal now?” Emily yelled. Sam dragged his hands across his face and tried to interject, but Dean continued arguing.

“Emily, I’m tired and I don't have the energy to argue with a fucking kid,” said Dean, stepping forward to get the keys from Emily’s hands. She moved back. “Give me-”

“Stop calling me a kid!” Emily pushed Dean and he took a step back. That was when Sam intervened by stepping in the middle of the half-siblings.

“Okay, that’s enough,” he said, looking at Emily. Then, he looked back at Dean and gave him a look. Emily didn't know what the look meant, but it worked. Every single time. Dean sighed and looked away. “Emily, take a walk.”  

“What?!” said Emily. “Wh-”

“Because I’m asking you to take a fucking walk!” said Sam. Emily scoffed. She threw the keys on Sam’s chest and left.

Emily came back after sunset. It was already dark, and walking down the street was next to impossible. The only light she had was her cigarette, burning between her fingers, and that was, too, soon to run out. She knocked on the room door and waited. Nothing happened. As a car drove away from the parking lot, the motel went silent, and she could hear everything in the room.

“What- Dean, what do you mean you don't know?!” said Sam’s voice. “She's- She's your sister, okay? And you don't know what her life was like before her mom died or- how old she is? How?!”

“First of all, half sister, and second- I don't know, Sam, okay? She isn’t exactly an easy person to talk to!” said Dean. “She's always being a fucking bitch- ready to jump at my throat, she's-”

“She’s a kid who had to watch her mother die not three years ago!” said Sam. Emily rolled her eyes. She pressed the cigarette under the boots and kept listening.

“What?” Dean’s voice sounded surprised, for probably the first time since Emily had known him. The motel went silent for a long beat. “What are you talking about?”

“You heard what she said about Lucas,” said Sam’s voice. “Maybe she saw something, too.” Emily leaned on the door. Not much because she wanted to hear more, but because her legs were tired. “You shouldn't be such a dick with her, anyway.”  

“Look Sam, we all have gone through some shit, but we don't go around bitching about it.” Okay, that was enough. Emily stood up again and knocked on the door, louder. The room went silent and the door opened. Without saying a word, Emily pushed her way past Sam, kicked her shoes away and dropped on her side of the queen sized bed.

“Are you okay?” asked Sam. Dean sighed.

“Shut up,” Emily muttered into the pillow.

Emily woke up early, went to grab breakfast, and left it on the motel table. She walked out of the motel again, looking for somewhere to buy a pack of cigarettes. She walked past the victim’s house. At first, she didn’t notice anything weird or out of the ordinary. A girl had died a few girls prior, police and people walking around the house wasn’t weird. But then, she saw an ambulance. And since there was no body, the ambulance wasn’t supposed to be there. She touched her back pocket, checking if she had her fake badge with her, and walked to the paramedic.

“Good morning,” she said. “I’m agent Hamilton, I am here with the US Wildlife Service.” The paramedic looked at her, confused.

“Right,” he chuckled. “Do you mind kid? I am trying to work here.”

“I am part of a youth program that trains young officers, my seniors aren’t here at the moment, but we can give them a call if you like,” she explained, hoping the man wouldn’t ask for her to do so.

“You said Wildlife Service?” he asked. Emily nodded. “Whatever, this isn’t a job for you, anyway.”

“Why, what happened?”

“Well, unless there’s wildlife in the Carltons’ sink, I don’t see why you’d get involved.”

“He-”

“He drowned in his sink, I don’t think that’s a job for the animal police,” the man said, nervous. “Now, as I said, I’ve got a real job to do, so…” The paramedic grabbed something off the ambulance and walked away. Emily rushed back to the motel, she opened the door and slammed it close, waking Dean up.

“Jesus fuck- what are you doing?” He asked, dragging his hands on his eyes. Sam turned to look at her, confused.

“It’s not a lake monster,” she said. “Something’s controlling the lake water.”

“Why do you say that?” Dean asked.

“Will Carlton is dead,” she said.

“He drowned?” Sam asked, closing his computer. Emily sighed.

“Does it count as drowning if it’s in your sink?”

“The sink?” Dean asked, standing up. Emily nodded. “Wait, did you- were you on the case? Alone?”

“I walked past his house, I just asked a few questions,” she complained. “Get off my back for a second, I’m helping!”

“You know you’re not supposed to work the Job by yourself, I thought I was pretty clear you were benched!” Dean said, raising his voice. “Why did you-”

“I went out to buy some stuff, okay? It’s not like I was working on purpose!” she complained. “Was I supposed to just ignore it?”

“You were supposed to call us!”

“Why?” she asked. “I can talk with people, right? I’m benched, not stupid!”

“Okay, okay,” Sam said, trying to calm them down. Dean walked away and stood over his bag. “Let’s all take a step back, if- if it’s in the lake water, it can get to anybody, but why- why is it-” Emily interrupted him.

“Didn’t the sheriff say they were gonna dry up the lake?” she said. “Maybe that’s it, maybe it’s running out of time!”

“We need to pay a visit to the sheriff,” Dean said. “This thing took both his kids, it has to have something to do with him.”

“I think we should talk to Andrea,” Sam said. “Maybe she knows something.”

“Okay,” Dean sighed. He looked at Emily. “Sam, you go talk with the sheriff, we’ll see what Andrea has to say.”

Emily stood in the doorway of Lucas’ bedroom for a moment before Dean looked back and gestured at her to come with him.

“Hey Lucas,” he said, crouching down. “You remember us?” Emily picked up a pile of drawings, all of them of a red bike. She looked at Dean. “I- uh- I wanted to thank you for that last drawing,” he continued. “But the thing is, I need your help again.” He took out the drawing Lucas had given him when they’d met him. “How did you know to draw this?” he asked. Lucas didn’t look up or stop drawing. “Did you know something bad was gonna happen?” Emily looked at him. The kid wasn’t going to talk. Maybe Sam was right. “Maybe you could nod yes or no for me?” Dean said.

“Dean,” she whispered, trying to get his attention. But he ignored her.

“You’re scared, it’s okay.” he said. Emily rolled her eyes. “I understand.” What the hell was so wrong with her that Dean could be understanding with anybody but her? “See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too,” Sure. Dean Winchester, scared. Emily walked out of the room.

“Sorry, I’ve got to take a call,” she said to Andrea as she walked past her. She stood out of the front door and lit up a cigarette. Dean came out a few minutes later.

“Where did you go?” he asked. Emily ignored him and threw the cigarette on the floor, starting to walk towards the car. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Did he tell you something?”

“What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing’s going on with me, Dean,” she said. “Get out of my ass, will you?” Dean sighed and walked past her. He started the car. “So? What happened in there?”

“Nothing that you’d need to know,” he said. Emily opened her mouth. “No, dude, you don’t get to leave in the middle of something, refuse to explain, and then keep working like nothing happened,” he complained. “Me and Sam will take care of this.”

Emily sat alone in the Motel, scrolling news on Sam’s laptop as if something new from 1986 could pop up and change the course of the case. It was four AM and Sam and Dean had been gone for a few hours. She looked at the first article they could find and frowned. One of the kids looked familiar. It was the sheriff. Next to him, a kid with a red bike and then another kid. He looked just like Bill Carlton, Andrea’s father in law. The title: “12-year-old disappears after school, presumed dead by authorities.” She grabbed her phone and called Sam. He doesn’t answer. Emily put on her sweater over her overalls, grabbed the keys off the table and ran out of the room. It wasn’t a big town. She could find them. She found an abandoned bike in front of the motel and stole it. She rode down the street, looking for the Impala, nothing. So, she went back up, rode down another street. Nothing. Third try, the sun almost up in the sky, she saw the Impala. She left the bike out on the pavement and rushed inside. The door was open. She walked in and saw Lucas crying on top of the stairs. A few seconds later, Dean and Andrea appeared too.

“What are you doing here?” Dean asked. Sam showed up on top of the stairs, too.

“We need to talk,” Emily said. Dean looked at Sam, then disappeared with Andrea and Lucas back upstairs. Sam walked down the stairs. “Sam, I think I know what’s going on.” she said. “And I know it’s a stretch, but I- I just- I don’t know, I feel it, okay?”

“Okay,” Sam frowned. “Slow down, what’s going on?”

“Bill Carlton and Jake Devins, they were friends with a kid who had a red bike,” she explained. Sam kept frowning, confused. “Lucas, he- he keeps drawing red bikes! I think- I think this might be Peter Sweeney’s spirit we’re working with!”

“How- how do you know about-”

“I found him in the city archives, he- he disappeared back in the day,” she explained. “We overlooked the case because he didn’t drown.” Sam looked at her. He turned around and called for Dean. He appeared on top of the stairs.

“I think Emily figured it out,” Sam said. Emily looked at Dean as she saw his expression change. He wasn't gonna give her credit, he was gonna send her back.

“Nice job, kid, now you go back to the room before things get heated,” he said.

“You’re kidding, right?” she asked. “I figured it out, I want to stay!”

“Should have thought about it when you still had my trust,” Dean answered. “You’re benched, go back to the motel.” Emily looked at Sam, who rolled his eyes and walked upstairs, leaving Emily alone. She was about to follow him, fight for her right to be there, but she didn’t. Dean wasn’t going to listen. He never was. Emily walked out of the house and saw Lucas walk towards the lake. She look behind her. Nobody.

“Lucas?” she called. The kid didn’t turn. “Lucas, don’t-” Lucas stopped a few feet from the lake and looked at her, then at the ground. Emily crouched down and dug her hand into the dirt, grimacing in disgust. Half a foot into the soil, she felt it. Something hard and cold. She cleared the dirt just enough to see that it was a bike handle. She looked at Lucas and grabbed her phone. She called Sam.

“Ya,” he answered.

“Sam, I found the red bike,” she said. “It’s right by the lake.” Sam closed the call and showed up a few seconds later followed by Dean.

“What the hell were you doing out here?” Dean asked. “I told you to go b-”

“Dean,” Sam complained. Dean rolled his eyes. Emily crossed her arms.

“I- Lucas walked out the door, I was trying to make sure he didn’t get hurt,” she explained. Dean looked at her and frowned. “What?” she asked. He shook his head and looked away. Emily looked down to where Lucas used to stand, but he wasn’t there anymore. She turned and saw him standing over the pier. Before she could even think of rushing towards him, he was falling in the lake, and before she could think of consequences, she was also jumping in the lake. The water was ice cold, almost unbearable against her skin, and it was almost impossible to look around. She saw Lucas’ hand disappear right below her and tried to swim downwards, but whatever was dragging Lucas could swim much faster than her. With a cloud of bubbles, someone else fell into the lake. She didn’t wait to look who it was, she resurfaced for air and then swam back down. She was never the best swimmer, she’d used it as cross training for dance a couple of times, but John had called her swimming barely passable. Nonetheless, she was determined to find Lucas: whatever had happened in that lake, it wasn’t his fault. He was just a kid who’d seen something horrible happen to her father. She kicked her feet as fast as possible, until something grabbed her hand. It was cold, and weirdly dry to be at the bottom of a lake. As she got dragged down, unable to even attempt to resurface and running out of air, she saw Sam’s body swim above her. He didn’t notice her. And if Sam didn’t notice her, Dean surely wasn’t going to. She tried to keep her breathing slow, conserve some of her already limited oxygen, and tried to set herself free. She kicked the hand that was dragging her, but it didn’t budge. She reached Lucas at the bottom of the lake, and grazed the sand with her legs. The hand let go of her, and she saw it: a ghostly kid, running away from her and towards a human figure in the distance. She looked up. She didn’t have enough energy left to swim up. She grabbed Lucas and tried pushing his body towards the surface. He floated a few feet above her, but didn’t keep going long enough. She tried swimming up, but it was like her legs weren’t hers anymore. She tried to stop herself, but her body forced out a cough, her lungs filling with water.

She woke up still coughing on the pier, water coming out of holes it surely wasn’t supposed to come out of, like her nose. She sat up and felt someone’s hand on her shoulder. It was Sam. A few feet away, Dean was helping Andrea wrap Lucas in a towel.

“He’s fine,” Sam said. “We found you guys in time.” Emily didn’t answer, feeling more water coming up her throat, and turned to vomit it. Sam moved her hair out of the way.  As Emily tried to spit out some dirt she’d swallowed along the way, she heard step approach her and recognized Dean’s boots. Come on, she’d saved the kid, he could spare her the usual telling-off.

“Are you okay?” he asked. Emily cleaned her mouth with the back of her hand and looked at him. What the hell did it look like? She’d almost drowned. “You got clothes in the car?” he asked. Emily nodded. “Alright.” Dean disappeared again and reappeared a few minutes later with a towel and dry clothes.

“Thanks,” she whispered, her throat burning. Maybe there wasn’t going to be a telling off. Maybe. Dean and Sam exchanged a look as she dried her face with the towel. She had no idea what the look meant.

The room where it happens

From Hamilton

Emily woke up covered in sweat. After dragging her hand across her face, she turned to see Sam sitting right next to her. It had been a few months since the lake case, and Dean still hadn’t given her the green light to get back to hunting, on the grounds of not having cleaned up her act. In all fairness, she had not. If anything, she'd made her case worse by starting to make jokes about suicide.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked. Emily answered with a groan. “Yeah, tell me about it.” Sam slid out of bed while Emily laid back down. “Another nightmare?”

“Yeah,” Emily sighed. Sam didn’t answer, so Emily propped her head up to see him staring at her. “What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said. “You should go back to sleep.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Emily whispered before closing her eyes back up and falling back on the mattress. She spent the rest of the night between light sleep and waking up, grinding her teeth. She could never fall asleep and every time she opened her eyes, she saw Sam sitting on his side of the bed.

She gave up on sleeping around six, when the sun was high enough to call it “morning”, and went out to grab coffee. Sam was still awake and looked like he had not slept at all.

“What does Dean usually get?” she whispered. Sam took his eyes off what he seemed to be a drawing to look at her.

“Black coffee,” he said. “But ask for extra sugar on the side, he says he likes it dark, but he doesn’t.” Emily nodded and closed the buttons to her overalls.

“What do you get?”

“’m fine,” said Sam. Emily frowned. “Really, don’t worry.”

When Emily came back in the room, Sam and Dean were already researching possible cases. Or at least, Dean was. Sam seemed to be still drawing something on a notepad. Emily handed Dean his coffee without a word.

“Thanks, little bitch,” he said. “See, Sammy?” He held up the sugar packet. “This is how you bring me breakfast.” Emily ignored him and sat back on the bed. Dean started listing possible cases, but got little to no reaction from Sam or Emily, which were both too busy doing something else. Sam, drawing on his little piece of paper, and Emily, reading a book.

“Am I boring you with this hunting evil stuff?” asked Dean. Emily closed her book.

“No,” “No,” said Sam and Emily. Emily frowned. Ew. She thought to herself. Being in sync with the golden boy? No thanks. She stood up from the bed and stole a sip of Dean’s coffee.

“Hey!” he complained. Emily walked a few steps away.

“What was the last case you said, the- cow mutilation?” she asked. ‘Cow’ and ‘’mutilation’ were the only two words she'd registered. Dean stood up, took his coffee back and turned the laptop towards her.

“Yeah, looks like…” Dean trailed off. Sam had stood up and had started looking for something in Dean’s bag. “What are you doing?” Sam grabbed John’s journal and took out a family picture. Emily had never seen it before: it was Sam, Dean, John and Mary, in front of a house.

“Dean, I know where we have to go next,” said Sam. Dean frowned.

“Where?”

“Home.” Dean’s chair went back a foot as he stood up, hitting Emily’s knee.

“Gosh- Stupid-” she cursed, groaning in pain. Dean turned, but didn’t seem to give much attention to Emily.

“Okay, random- Where did that come from?” he asked, putting his hands on his waist.

“Alright, um-” Sam walked to the table where Dean used to be sitting. He showed him the picture. “This photo was taken in front of our old house, right? The house where mom died?”

“Yeah.” Dean looked at it for a split second before placing it back on the table face down.

“And it didn’t burn down, right? I mean, not completely, they rebuilt it, right?” asked Sam. Emily took the picture to look at it, but Dean snatched it out of her hand and put it back on the table, again, face down.

“I guess so, yeah,” answered Dean, looking at Emily as if she’d just burned down the motel. He then paced through the room and sat on the bed. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?” Sam sat down in front of Dean.

“Okay, look, this is gonna sound crazy but… the people who live in our old house- I think they might be in danger.”

“What?” said Emily, frowning. “Why?!”

“Uh…” Sam shook his head. “it’s just, um…” He stood up again and walked towards his bag. “Look, just trust me on this, okay?”

“Wait, whoa, whoa, trust you?” said Dean.

“Yeah.” Sam started packing his bags as Dean stood up again, confused. Emily kicked the chair Dean used to sit on back under the table and grabbed the coffee Dean had left behind.

“Come on, man, that’s weak. You gotta give me a little bit more than that,” said Dean, trying to get the coffee back from Emily while she moved away to avoid him.

“I can’t really explain it- is all.”

“Wait,” said Emily, before Dean could speak again. “Show me the picture again.” Sam took the picture from Dean and turned it towards Emily. She looked at it, eyes tightening as she tried to pick up on the details. “I saw this before.” Dean turned towards her.

“What?” said Dean. “Emily, wh-”

“I- I think I had a dream about it.” Sam looked at her with an expression Emily couldn’t decipher. A mix of fear and surprise. Maybe worry. He took back the picture and placed it inside John’s journal. Dean followed Sam’s movements around the room and crossed his arms.

“Okay- Both of you, what the hell?” he said, frowning.

“It’s just…” said Sam. Dean traced his face with his hands again and sighed. “I’ve been having a lot of nightmares, and-”

“Yeah, I noticed,” said Dean.

“Well, sometimes, the nightmares come true.” The room went silent for a long, infinite second. Emily frowned.

“Come again?” said Dean. A nervous chuckle passed his features before he was able to suppress it.

“Look, Dean… I dreamt about Jessica’s death- for days before it happened,” said Sam. He put his hands on his waist.

“Wa-” was all Emily managed to utter before Dean gestured her to stop talking. She rolled her eyes.

“Sam, people have weird dreams, man. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence,” said Dean. Weird dreams. It reminded Emily of something.

“No, I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything, and I didn’t do anything about it ‘cause I didn’t believe it.”

The ceiling, the fire. Weird dreams with ceilings and fires- oh. Emily froze. “And now I’m dreaming about that tree, about our house, and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean, that’s where it all started, man, this has to mean something, right?”

“Sam-” Emily tried to intervene again.

“Emily, not now,” said Dean. “Look, Sam, I-”

“No, listen to me!” yelled Emily. Dean turned, more nervous by the second. The moment Sam and Dean both looked at her, Emily’s mouth dried up. “I- I-” she stuttered. Dean crossed his arms, annoyed, so Emily looked at Sam, who had the decency of not looking pissed off at her for speaking. “I just remembered something,” she said. Sam looked at her and swallowed as Emily grabbed her bag and shoved a hand inside. “I- Where is the stupid thing?!” Emily dug out her old phone from her bag. She hadn’t turned it on in years. She plugged it in the outlet and waited for the screen to light up. “I- I think I also-”

“Oh, no- please, Emily- Don’t- There’s no way both of you got the Shining,” said Dean. “Slow down, okay? It was just a coincidence. We’re not going to Lawrence, and we’re definitely not going all the way to Portland.”

“Here.” Emily ignored Dean and turned the phone towards Sam so that he could read.

“gd news, the project is done bc I couldnt zzz last night, I had the weirdest dream, all my fam died in a fire.” He read out loud.

“That’s not all, read the following message,” said Emily, turning her phone back towards her and opening the following message. She gave the phone to Sam.

“Okay- omg Emily, I hate nitemares, r u sure its nt stress? And you said…” Sam looked through the messages. “Is this how girls talk to each other?” he asked. Dean put his hands on his waist and Emily frowned, confused. “Sorry, uh- idk, but it was f-ing detailed, i like burned my hands n all. Its the 3rd time this week.” Sam looked up from the phone and Emily raised her hands in front of her face to show him the scars from the fire. Sam swallowed. “When was this?”

“I don’t know, a month? Two months before it happened?”

“Dean, this isn’t a coincidence,” said Sam. “Something’s going on here.”

“I don’t know-” Dean looked away and sighed. He walked to his bed and dropped down.

“What do you mean you don’t know, Dean?” Sam said, sitting on the bed in front of Dean. “This woman might be in danger. I mean, this might even be the thing that killed mom and Jessica!” Emily looked at Sam and decided - for once - to shut up. Sam knew how to get through to Dean. Maybe it was better if she didn’t intervene. “We’ve moved for less,” he concluded. Dean stood up and walked to the other side of the room.

“All right, just slow down, would ya?” he said. “I mean, what are you supposed to be, the- the twins from Shining or something?” he asked. Sam and Emily looked at each other and remained silent. “We’re not going back home,” Dean took a deep breath and looked at Sam. “Especially because…”

“What, Dean?” Emily put her hands on her waist. Enough shutting up. Shutting up was boring. “I mean, maybe it really is a coincidence, but there’s only one way to be sure, right?”

“That’s not it.”

“Then what?!” Dean looked at Emily, then at Sam, who frowned. Dean rolled his eyes.

“I- I swore to myself that I would never go back there.” As always, she thought, Dean Winchester is capable of having feelings only when it’s not about me. The thought must have come through her expression, because Dean asked “What?!” Emily tried to speak, but he didn’t let her. “Why are you looking at me like that?!”

“I’m not looking at you- Oh my gosh, Dean, calm down!” Emily stood up and walked to her backpack. “You know what I think?!” she said. “I think you don’t want to go because I’m involved!”

“What are you talking about?!” asked Dean.

“I’m sure if I wasn’t involved in this - no weird dreams, no old text messages - you’d already be on your stupid car, going eighty to figure out what was happening!” Dean stood up.

“I’m sorry, what are you trying to say?!” he asked, walking towards her. Emily swallowed, Dean’s figure towering several inches above her.

“I heard you, back in Wisconsin,” she said, trying to look serious even if her throat was closing. Dean glared behind him, probably looking for Sam.

“You know - this really isn’t about you,” said Dean. “so how about you shut the fuck up - get back in line and let me do my job?” Emily bit the inside of her cheek but kept staring at Dean, refusing to stand down.

“No,” she said. “because as much as you’d love it - this is also about me!” Dean opened his mouth to answer but Sam’s hand appeared over his shoulder and dragged him back. Emily used both hands to push Dean away, grabbed her backpack and walked to the other side of the room. As she stared at her backpack she heard the motel door close and drew a breath of relief, thinking she was finally alone. She wasn’t big on confrontation. She’d spent most of her life in a bubble where at most - she’d have to confront a bully. And they were usually very bad at bullying. Confronting Dean was out of her comfort zone to say the least, but she felt like it was needed to show she wasn’t a kid. To gain the respect of the alfa of the pack of whatever other bullshit men did. A hand touched her shoulder and she turned - ready to hit the intruder. But it was just Sam.

“Sorry-” he said, looking at Emily's hand as it fell back next to her. “Look, Dean m-”

“I don't need your help,” she said. “Dean's been a pain in my behind for a long time now, so you don't need to defend me or whatever.” Sam looked at her for a second, sighed and looked away. “Are we going to Kansas or not?”

“We need to stop for gas,” said Dean, pulling over into a gas station. He looked at Emily. “You have five minutes, do whatever it is you need to do.” Emily rolled her eyes.

“Whatever,” she said. Dean ignored her and went out of the car. She also did and walked to the bathroom while lighting up a cigarette. She held it between her lips all through the bathroom visit, moving it away with her right hand when she needed to. As she washed her hands, she heard Dean’s voice talking to the phone.

“Dad? I know I’ve left you messages before. I don’t even know if you get ‘em.” Emily leaned on the wall next to the door, so that Dean wouldn't see her. She didn't want to spy on him or anything, but if she walked out of the bathroom at that moment, he’d have cooked up a lie to pretend he wasn’t calling John for help, as if she didn't know how often he called his dad. “I’m with Sam. And we’re in Lawrence. And there’s something in our old house.” Not even gonna mention me? she thought. Might as well be six feet under. “I don’t know if it’s the thing that killed Mom or not, but…” Dean stopped talking, he sniffed. Was Dean… crying? Big, strong, unaffectionate Dean Winchester? “I don’t know what to do.” Wow. He’s actually crying. Emily considered walking in on him just to humiliate him, but decided she didn't want to start another fight, not with five more hours to drive. “So, whatever you’re doin’, if you could get here. Please. I need your help, dad.” With that, Emily heard Dean sniff one last time and then walk away. She remained in the bathroom a couple more minutes. She knew every minute she was late was going to make Dean more nervous - the five minutes he had said she had were long gone - and eventually, she had to walk back to the car.

“Where were you? I said five minutes,” Dean complained, turning on the engine.

“I was doing hard drugs behind the building,” she said. Dean scoffed, but Sam smiled. “I was just in the bathroom, okay?!” Dean looked at her in the rearview mirror. Crap. “I- I’m having my period.” She lied. Dean shook his head and started driving.

The case felt weird. It felt like Emily wasn't supposed to be there and she was looking at something private, something she had no right to see or be a part of. Sam and Dean made theories, called a psychic to check the house for ghosts, and she stayed back, looking from a distance. Barely said a word. Partly because Dean was still trying to bench her, and partly because she really didn't want to participate. In fact, to only step foot in that house felt so wrong she couldn’t. Invented an excuse and went back to the motel, every single time.

When Sam and Dean came back, muttering about back pain and fire, they barely looked at Emily. Sam glanced at her as he entered and as he fell into bed, just to check that he wasn’t falling on her, and Dean completely ignored her existence for the rest of the night. And the following day. He had a talent for that.

Dead Girl Walking

From Heathers - The Musical

Emily looked at herself in the bathroom mirror and groaned, observing how big and un-fitting the boilersuit Sam had given her was.

“Sam, where on earth did you get this?” she complained, “I look like Harry Potter’s weird sister.”  

“I’m sorry, man,” answered Sam, opening a slit in the door to look inside. “but this isn’t a fashion show, okay? We’re on the job.”

“A fashion- What are you talking about?” she asked. “And don't call me ‘man’!” Emily said, walking out of the bathroom. She rummaged in her bag to take out a stapler.

“What do you have that for?” asked Dean, sipping on his coffee. Emily started stripping out of the suite and sat in her underwear on the motel floor.

“Research?” she answered, starting to staple the fabric to make it smaller. “I don’t like scattered paper.” Dean huffed and glared at Sam, a smug, mocking smile forming on his face.

“Well, there's no doubt you two are siblings,” he said.

“Oh, please.” Emily frowned, looking at Sam. “We have nothing in common.” Dean laughed.

“Dude, wake up, you’re literally the same person,” he said.

“Dean-” Sam tried to interject.

“No, I’m just saying- you both took theater classes and you have a stapler in your bag,” he said, “and you’re huge nerds,” Emily looked at Sam again and raised her eyebrows.

“Him?” she asking, pointing at Sam. He crossed his arms.

“You know I got accepted into law school, right?”

“Big deal,” Emily huffed, sliding the stapler across the room and to her bag. The gesture reminded her of how she used to do that with her pointe shoes towards her  at the end of every class. “I got accepted into med school.”

“I was into three plays even though I moved every few weeks,” Sam said. Emily raised her eyebrows.

“That’s not a nerd thing, that’s a theater kid thing,” answered Emily, standing up and walking to her bag. “And trust me, you couldn’t beat me at that, either,”

“Oh, really?” said Sam. Emily turned with a smirk. Theater was her thing: there was no way Sam knew more about it than her. “Your favourite musical?” he asked. “And don’t say Wicked, because that doesn’t count,”

“Hey, I am not some commoner, okay? I happen to like Miss Saigon,”

“Miss Saigon?” asked Sam, frowning.

“Yes, Miss Saigon, it’s-”

“...a musical you’re not old enough to watch, that’s what it is,” Sam complained. “Who let you watch that?”

“Okay then, Sweet Charity,”

“What?!” Sam frowned.

“Rent?”

“No!” Sam said, “How about, I don’t know- Mamma mia? Or… anything that is not about sex, prostitution or AIDS?” Emily looked at him and huffed.

“Why?” Emily asked, “Are you too young and impressionable?” A few feet away from her, Dean laughed. Sam opened his mouth as if he was about to speak something, but then sighed, trying to hide a smile, and went to pack his bag.

At the apartment, while Dean and Sam talked with the landlady, Emily took a look around the room.

“You hire them young?” She heard the woman ask. Dean released a huff.

“It’s… uh-” Emily looked away and pretended not to hear anything. “...bring-your-daughter-to-work day,” Sam answered. A few seconds later, just as Emily was taking her EMF meter out of pocket, Dean appeared next to her. She showed him the meter as it pointed to the highest possible value.

“Definitely our kind of thing,” he said as Sam walked past them.

“You guys spoke with the cops, right?” he asked, looking behind his shoulder to check that the landlady was gone.

“I spoke to Amy, a, uh, charming, perky officer of the law.” Dean smirked. Emily crossed her arms. “Well, she’s a Sagittarius. She loves tequila, I mean- wow. Oh, and she’s got this little tattoo-”

“She’s gay, Dean,” Emily said, Dean frowned. “at least, she was last night.” Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head. Emily suspected he’d known she wasn't as old as she pretended to be for a while, but he hadn’t said anything. And she wasn’t going to ask, so as long as he kept his fucking golden boy mouth shut, everything was going to be fine.

“I can’t believe this,” said Dean. “You slept with her?”

“What can I say?” Emily smirked. “Girls love me.” She swirled her hair around like she was in a shampoo commercial. Sam shook his head and tried to conceal a smile. Truth was, she had gone out with Amy, but nothing had happened. Amy had questioned her on her age, and she’d left with an excuse. That happened more with girls than with men. Men didn’t seem to care. Of course, Dean didn’t need to know that detail.

“Did you at least find anything out about the case?” asked Sam.

“Yeah. Meredith’s heart was missing,” said Emily. “Maybe a werewolf?”

“No,” said Sam. “Lunar cycle’s not right and…” He looked around, “...locked doors and windows… I think it’s some sort of spirit.” Emily looked at the carpet: the blood formed a familiar shape. She thought she had seen somewhere, but could not pinpoint where.

“Check this out,” she said, hitting Dean's chest with the back of her hand. He turned. “What is that?” She pointed at the blood. Dean put his hands on his waist.

“What?”

“That shape, you see it?” She gestured, leaving Dean more puzzled than before. “Wow, you’re dumb…” Emily whispered and rolled her eyes. “Sam?” she called. Sam’s head appeared from inside the bathroom. “Got some tape?” He nodded and threw her a roll of tape. “I saw it somewhere already,” she said. “I- I think it was in one of Bobby Singer’s books.”

“I wouldn’t know,” said Dean, walking away with an eye roll. “I’m dumb.

Dean was flirting with the bartender while Emily, two stools to the left, pretended not to know him. She had been twirling her whiskey in the glass for a while and had noticed a man looking at her in a rather luxurious way. Ew. I’m way too young for you. Yet, she reciprocated the gaze and sipped the content of her glass. Please… don’t be a creep. She left the stool to go talk to the stranger, but was intercepted by Sam, who had just entered the bar. He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her towards a table.

“Sam, I swear to god you and your brother are going to make my balls go blue one of these days.” Sam looked at her, his eyes tightening in confusion. “What?” she asked, sitting next to him.

“You don’t have balls.” Emily rolled her eyes.

“Oh, come on!” she answered. “It’s an expression.” Sam looked back at the man.

“He’s what… forty?” Emily raised her eyebrows.

“Again? I’m old enough!” she said. Sam shook his head and handed her a folder and a pen.

“Vic’s files. Let’s figure out if they’re connected,” he said.  Emily took a deep breath and opened the folder. She started tapping the pen on the table. “Dude,” said Sam not longer than three minutes later, stopping her hand.

“So I do have balls,” whispered Emily, moving the tapping from the table to her forehead. Sam glared at her and tried to hide a smile. Dean walked to them and put his hands on the table. He looked, in turn, at both of them.

“What’s going on with you?” he asked, sitting down.

“Sam cockblocked me,” said Emily.

“Welcome to the club,” Dean sighed. He sat and took a file.

“We didn’t come here to hook up, you realize that?” Sam complained, looking up from his file. “Did you get anything from the bartender? Apart from her phone number?” Dean gave him an annoyed look.

“Dude, I’m a professional,” he said. “I’m offended that you’d think that!” Sam remained silent as Dean chuckled and held up a napkin with a phone number on it. Emily smiled.

“Do you mind doing a little bit of thinking with your upstairs brain?” said Sam.

“Well, understandably yes if you always prevent us from having fun,” whispered Emily.

“I heard that,” said Sam.

“Bite me,” she said. Sam started biting her arm.

“Jesus, Sam- Stop being so weird!” she said, cleaning her arm on Dean’s flannel.

“You memorized the entire script to Wicked, and I’m the weird one?” Sam shook his head.

“Shut up,”  she said, shaking her head. Dean cleared his voice. Emily looked at him and sighed.

“So,” he said. “the vic worked here, she waited tables. Everyone here was her friend. Everyone said she was normal. She didn’t do anything weird before she died. What about the other victim, did you find anything?”

“That’s what we were checking out, but as far as I can tell, there is no connection,” Emily said,  handing him the file. She took Sam’s file and started skimming through it.

“The guy was found mutilated in his apartment,” said Sam. “Same deal: locked door, alarm was-” Emily looked up from her file to see why Sam had stopped talking. He was looking at something on the other side of the bar. Emily followed his gaze and turned. It wasn’t something. It was someone.

“Sounds like the only successful intel we scored was the bartender’s number,” said Dean with a grin. Sam stood up and walked towards a blonde girl.

“Oh, no-” said Emily. “Dean, Sam’s about to try and hook up with a giant lesbian,”

“How do you know she’s a lesbian?” Dean frowned.

“I have a superpower,” said Emily. “It’s called a gay-dar.” Dean frowned. “Don't worry, you'll get yours when you also graduate gay school,”

“Funny,” said Dean. “About Amy, the police officer…” Dean moved his shirt away to reveal a hickey. Emily pretended to ignore him and started walking towards Sam. “How was it?” said Dean, leaning closer to her while she followed her. “Right: girls love me.” Emily moved to the side so that Dean could walk next to her, and then hit his shoulder. He grinned.

“Hey Sammy,” Emily said, walking past Dean again and patting Sam on the shoulder a little too hard. “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?” The woman looked at her for a second, confused, then smiled.

“Hi, my name is Meg. How do you know Sam?” she asked.

“I- Uh-” Emily kept her fake smile on but dug her nails deeper in Sam’s shoulder. He cleared his voice. “I am his sister, Emily,” she explained. “And this is Dean, our brother.”

“This is Dean?” answered Meg, surprised, not even bothering to look at Emily.

“So, you’ve heard of me?” he asked, a flattered smile forming on his face.

“Oh, yeah. I‘ve heard of you.” Meg nodded. “Nice,” she said. “the way you treat your brother like luggage.” Dean’s expression changed from flattered to confused. “Do you do the same with Emily?” Emily let go of Sam’s shoulder and looked away, trying to hide a laugh.

“Meg, it’s alright,” Sam said. Dean looked at Sam, then he pointed at the bar.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m going to grab another drink.” He pointed to the bar, then turned towards Emily. “You coming?” She hummed in agreement and followed Dean to the bar.

“I thought you said girls love you,” she said, gesturing to the bartender for a drink. Dean huffed.

“I’m sorry-” said the bartender. “Do you have any ID?” Emily raised her eyebrows.

“I beg your pardon?” she said.

“It’s just- I’ve been serving you all night, but- my manager says you look under twenty one,”

“Here.” Emily opened her purse and showed the bartender her fake ID. In the meantime, Dean got served a beer, and Emily put her fake ID back.

“What’s the gay-dar saying?” whispered Dean, eyeing the bartender. As he poured Emily some gin.

“That he’s straight,” said Emily. Dean frowned. “but you know what? Amy was supposed to be as well.” Emily downed her drink and stood up. “Go get him, tiger.” She saw Sam was about to go get Dean, intercepted him and dragged him outside.

“What are we doing?” he asked.

“Letting Dean find a hook up for the night,” Emily said. “who was that girl?” She pointed at Meg.

“I met her a while ago,” Sam answered. “I didn’t think I was going to see her again,” he sighed.

“Don’t you think it’s a little suspicious to bump into her again?”

“I mean-” Sam crossed his arms. “Do you think it was?” he asked. Emily shrugged. Sam seemed in thought. “Endover is really far away from here.”

“Maybe she moved for college,” Emily said. Sam didn't answer.

“Can I ask you a question?” he said. Emily nodded. “So you… have sex, carry a gun, hunt monsters, but I haven't heard you say a single swearword,”

“Dude, what kind of question is that?” she asked. “I’m not- I’m just trying not to be rude!”

“Isn't it rude to be underage drinking?” he asked. Emily smirked and pulled a cigarette out of her pack. “Isn't it rude to smoke, princess?”

“Okay, shut up, dude,”

Emily stared at the symbol they’d found at the victim’s house. She fidgeted with the pen she was holding while Dean was just coming out of the shower after his night out. Sam was out getting lunch.

“I am telling you, I know this symbol,” she said. “I've seen it at Bobby's.” Dean rubbed a towel through his hair.

“Then what is it?” he asked.  

“I don't know,” she said. “You know what?” She took her phone and dialed Bobby's number, who answered in a matter of seconds. “Hey Bobby, it's Emily,“ she said, putting the call on speaker.

“Hey sweetheart, everything okay?” At the word ‘sweetheart’, Dean turned around and frowned.

“All good, listen… I'm looking for a book I read there, it was on the bookshelf on the left, next to the door… kind of a small format, uh- I think it was green?” She heard the man walk through his house. Dean walked closer to the table to listen to the phone call.

“Looking,” Bobby said. “What do you need?”

“I am looking for a symbol, kinda looks like a ‘z’, with a circle in the middle.” After a few seconds of silence, Bobby spoke again.

“Looks like you got yourself a Daeva. It's a shadow demon. Nasty stuff,” he said. “You’re not hunting this alone, are you?”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m with Sam and Dean.”

“Good.” The man stopped talking for a moment. “The lore doesn’t mention how to kill it, but I can do some research.” Emily smiled.

“Okay,  thanks Bobby,”

“No problem, sweetheart. Ring me up if you're nearby, okay?” he said.

“Will do.” Emily closed the call under Dean’s confused look.

“Sweetheart?” he said. “Bobby Singer calls you sweetheart?” Emily shrugged.

“Yeah, why?” she asked. Dean huffed.

“Bobby Singer doesn’t call people ‘sweetheart’,” he answered. Emily shrugged.

“Are you jealous?” she asked, the hint of a smile on her lips. Dean shook his head. Emily sat back at the table and turned Sam’s laptop towards her.

“So,” said Dean. “How are you doing?” Emily frowned and didn’t take her eyes off the screen.

“Fine,” she said. Dean sighed.

“Are you sure?” Emily turned in her chair to look at him. He had worn his t-shirt halfway through his arms, like he had stopped to look at her.

“Dean, I'm clean,” she said. “You've checked my arms every single day,” Dean finished wearing his t-shirt and dug into his duffel.

“I was thinking-” he said, taking out a flannel.

“Yeah, I am not coming with you tonight,” Emily sighed. “I know the gist,” she said. “getting my shit together and all that jazz.”

“Actually-”

“You know what?” She interrupted Dean and closed the laptop. “It's fine, I get it: if I die because you were not careful enough, dad is going to kill you,” she said.

“I was actually planning on asking you to come with us.” Dean put on his flannel. “but it sounds like you should rest some more.”

“Whatever,” Emily said, standing up. She opened the small window and lit up a cigarette.

“Can you not?” he asked. Emily ignored him. He paced around the room, packing his bag. Emily pulled up a chair and sat down, making sure to extend her arm out the window when she wasn’t smoking. Her legs bounced, hitting the table and making the bottles on it clang.

“Are you okay?” asked Dean, looking at her.

“Jesus Christ- Yeah, I’m okay!” she yelled. A piece of ash flew from the cigarette to her hand. She groaned, trying to shove it off. Dean rolled his eyes. “Forget about it.” A few seconds later, the bottles clanged again.

“Stop,” said Dean. Emily didn’t pay much attention to it, too busy inspecting the burn on her hand, her leg still bouncing. “Emily, I said stop!” Emily rolled her eyes and moved her leg a few inches away, where it wouldn’t hit the table. Dean sighed. “Look-” he said, pinching his nose and squeezed his eyes. “You’re coming with us, get ready.” Emily rolled her eyes.

“Whatever,” she whispered, her eyes not moving from the cigarette. She didn’t even want to go. But at the same time, she wanted to. First, always staying back when the action was happening was getting boring, and second, Dean always underestimated her, always treated her like she was some idiot. And hunting was the thing Dean valued the most, so if she could prove she was good at that - maybe Dean could have changed his mind.  

“Emily.” Dean looked at her. It was a warning. She stood up.

“Jesus Christ-” she groaned, killing the cigarette on the window ledge. “Okay, I’m getting ready.” Just as she opened her backpack, Dean’s phone started ringing. He picked up and put the call on speaker.

“I know who is summoning the Daeva,” said Sam’s voice. “It’s Meg.” Emily bit the inside of her cheek, trying to stop herself from saying  ‘I told you so’. “She was using some sort of altar to control it.”

“Do you think she was talking with the thing?” asked Dean. Emily threw her t-shirt in the backpack and took out a clean one.

“No, it was different,” said Sam. “Someone was giving her orders. Someone who is coming right here.” Emily mentally scanned all the files again and flinched as Dean jotted down the address and closed the call.

“You all good?” asked Dean. Emily blinked and turned towards him. It was probably nothing. All the victims being born in the same place as Sam and Dean? That made no sense, right? She wasn’t born in Lawrence, she was born in Portland. So, that had to be a coincidence.

“Yeah,” she said. Dean went to pack his bag, but Emily didn’t move. He glared at her.

“You sure?” It didn’t make sense. John said her mother was killed by the same thing that killed Mary. Lawrence was not a part of the puzzle. It was just a freak coincidence. Emily shook her head and went to finish packing. A few minutes later Dean had his boots on and was waiting next to the door.

“There’s one thing,” Emily said. Dean looked at her. “Something I thought of just now.” Dean frowned. “All- all the victims, they- they were born in the same place,”

“What are you talking about?” asked Dean.

“They were all born in Lawrence,” she said. She closed her eyes. It was probably nothing, but she would have never heard the end of it if it turned out to be important and someone found out she knew.

“You- you weren’t, right?” Dean asked. “Dad said-”

“Portland, yeah,” Emily said. Dean looked away for a moment before putting his hand in his pocket.

“I'm gonna go call dad," he said. "You get ready."

Emily looked behind her to check nobody was following them. Sam, a few steps in front of her, pointed to a door. Dean walked past it and leaned on the wall to its left, while Sam leaned to its right.

“Dean,” Emily said. “can I get my gun back?” Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Dean had been holding onto her gun ever since the hospital had happened. It had been more than two months. “Come on, I can’t walk in there unarmed!” Dean rolled his eyes and took Emily’s gun - really, Dean’s old gun - out of the back of his jeans. Then, they entered. Emily followed Sam. They sneaked through the first floor and then started walking upstairs. At every step, Emily’s heart seemed to beat louder. She could feel it pounding in her chest and wondered if anybody else could hear it. She loaded her gun, followed by Sam, who was walking a few steps behind her, checking behind them. They heard Meg’s voice as she talked with someone. As she sneaked behind a crate she realized they had no idea what they were up against, or if their guns were of any use. They only had a theory - destroying the altar Meg was using could have worked. Emphasis on ‘could’.

“Guys,” said Meg’s voice. Emily rolled her eyes. She turned towards Dean. “Hiding is a little childish, don’t you think?” Dean came out of hiding. Emily and Sam followed. “Sam…” said Meg with a smug smile “I have to say, this puts a real crimp in our relationship.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” said Sam. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Where’s your little Daeva friend?” he said.

“Around,” she said with a smirk. “Those shotguns are not gonna do much, you know?”

“Oh don’t worry, sweetheart. The shotgun is not for the demon,” answered Dean. Emily felt the blood rush through her veins and her heart beat faster. As the realization they really had nothing against the demons settled in, Meg raised her hand. Emily’s body went flying until it hit the wall.

When she came to her senses, she was tied up to a column. From all the time she’d spent with the Winchesters, she knew better than to show fear. She did her best to swallow the knot in her throat and to attempt to slow her breathing down. Don’t cry. She said to herself. It’s going to make everything so much worse. Emily looked around and saw Sam was awake. He turned towards her. His eyes widened. Meg started walking towards them just as Dean was starting to wake up. She smiled at the sight of the three siblings tied up and helpless.

“What a beautiful sight,” she said.

“It was all a trap, right?” said Sam, anger filling up his voice. “Running into you at the bar, following you here. It was all a setup.” The woman laughed.

“You’re a smart boy,”

“Did the Lawrence thing mean anything?”

“No, it was just to draw the three of you here… And oh, how good it worked.” Emily swallowed the knot in her throat.

“Well, good job, you got us. Now what?” she said, trying to hide the shaking in her voice.

“Look, the little one speaks,” said Meg, leaning towards Emily until they were a couple of centimeters apart. Emily held her breath. “Now, kid, we wait.” When Meg moved away, Emily looked over at Sam. Please, have a plan. Sam looked over at her again, but Meg started talking with Dean. “You dad is very good at hiding,” she said, straddling Dean’s legs. “But he has one, big weakness.”

“Oh, yeah?” said Dean. “What’s that?”

“Damn, you are not as smart as everyone says you are,” she whispered in his ear. “You. And I happen to know for sure that he’s in town. I’m sure he won’t resist trying to save you.” Meg stood back up. “And when he will, the Daevas will kill everybody, nice, slow and messy.” Emily’s heart skipped a beat. She closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing.

“Enough with the villain monologue!” she said. Her voice seemed to make Meg angrier. “Why are you doing this?” Meg walked to Emily, looked at her for a second, then slapped her.

“Did your mother not teach you to be quiet when the grownups are talking?” Emily’s blood felt like it was on fire.

“Don’t you dare mentioning my mother, you-” she got slapped again. Frustrated and helpless, she tried to kick Meg, struggling against the post she was tied to. The woman walked back and enjoyed the scene, smiling.

“I am doing this… because of the same reasons you do what you do,” Meg said. She stopped walking. “Loyalty. Love. Like the one you felt for little Alex.” She faked a sad face. Emily’s breath became heavier as she tried to set herself free. She felt Sam’s gaze on her.

“Go to hell,” he said. Meg made her way to Sam and straddled him.

“Oh baby, I’m already there.” She leaned in, stopping only half an inch away from Sam’s lips. “You know… I saw you watching me, changing in my apartment… I know it turned you on.”

“Jesus Christ-” Emily rolled her eyes, trying to shake away that terrible image from her face.

“Come on, Sammy, you and I can still have a little dirty fun.” Emily tried to ignore Meg’s words and closed her eyes. Calm down. She said to herself. Think. Fucking think.

“You wanna have fun?” said Sam. He then looked at Emily and gave her a look. Great, what the hell is that supposed to mean?! She thought to herself, panic growing bigger in her chest. Then, she remembered. She had a literal ace in her sleeve. She had a knife. Trying to be as quiet as possible, Emily started to cut away the rope that was tying her to the post. She was about halfway done and Meg was still having her fun on Sam’s lap, kissing him and grinding on him. With a metal sound, the room went quiet. Crap. Crap, crap, crap- Emily tightened her grip on her knife and put it back in her sleeve. Meg stood up and walked over to Dean, on the other side of the room. Emily glared at Sam and he gave her another look. Unlike the previous time, Emily knew what to do.

“Were you trying to distract me while your brother cut himself free?” said Meg, angry. She kicked Dean’s knife away. In the meantime, Emily was trying her best to move as little as possible, while still cutting as fast as possible. She let the rope come almost loose, and she stopped. She put the knife away, leaving a quarter of an inch of rope to cut. She knew if she cut herself free, Meg would have been able to notice that. After checking on Dean, she walked in front of Sam and then reached Emily’s post. Meg leaned forward. Emily’s breath came to a halt again. Come on now- She thought. You have the upper hand this time.

“Oh, don’t worry about me,“ she said. “I am letting you grownups do all the talking.” She set herself free and punched Meg. The woman fell onto the floor, giving Emily one second of advantage to stand up and leap towards the altar. Meg managed to grab Emily’s ankle, the same one she had broken not too long before, and make her fall on her knees. Before Meg could drag her back, Emily latched onto the black tablecloth and crashed the altar on the floor. Still trying to stand back up, Emily saw several shadows appear on the walls and attack Meg. She started screaming, in pain, as the shadows dragged her towards the windows. She held Emily's ankle for several feet, but in the end Meg let go and fell out of the building. Emily dragged herself away from the window. She emitted a long, exasperated sigh and closed her eyes.

“Emily, do you mind…” said Sam, struggling to set himself free. Emily stood up and tried to ignore her legs shaking. She walked over to Sam and set him free. She then laid down on the floor and stared at the ceiling. Sam set Dean free, but he kept gazing over to Emily.

“Are you okay?” asked Dean when he was free. He offered her his hand to stand back up.

“I need a second,” Emily said, pushing away Dean’s hand.

“What?”

“Jesus- I said I need a second!” she repeated.

“Okay but… for what?”

“To knit a scarf- What does it look like?!” She snapped.

“Dean-” Sam tried to interject.

“What are you talking about?” asked Dean,ignoring his brother. “We have to go!” Dean tried to make her stand up, Sam tried to stop him, but it was already too late. Something snapped and Emily started crying. She crossed her arms and kept staring at the ceiling, stubborn, while tears streamed down her face. She sniffed.

“I’m not going to carry you to the car,” said Dean. “Stand up.” Emily scowled at him, sitting up. She held her breath in, trying to control her sobbing. She angrily dried her face and started marching towards the door. “See? It wasn’t that hard.”

“Dean, come on,” whispered Sam, nervously walking down the stairs. They sneaked towards their car and Dean started driving. Emily dried up her face and took her usual seat in the back of the Impala, leaning on the door. She cleared her throat and sat there, arms crossed. Dean checked her -from time to time- in the rearview mirror, but didn't say anything until they arrived at the motel.

“Good job today, Emily,” he said, looking at her through the mirror. “Definitely saved our asses out there.” She reciprocated his gaze for a split second before grabbing her backpack.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” she whispered. Her throat was still sore. Emily stepped out of the car and walked towards the room. She rummaged in her pockets for the key and groaned. Her hands were shaking, so putting the key in the door felt impossible. Dean and Sam were right behind her.

“But look, you can't start crying like that,” said Dean. “You need to learn how to-”

“Shut up,” she said, shoving the key in and opening the door. Dean stopped her while Sam rolled his eyes and walked past them, entering the room.

“Look, I get it: it’s hard. But you can’t-”

“You what?! You don’t get it! I had everything I ever wanted. I had a proper house, I had friends, I was four years ahead of kids my age, you- do you know how many people can pull that off?! And for what?! Just for my whole life to go up in flames!” she said. “And you were supposed to be my newfound family and look how’s that going!” Dean huffed.

“You’re free to go if I make your life so miserable!” he said, raising his voice.

“And where would I go?! I didn't want this! I wanted to be a surgeon!”

“Guys-” Sam tried to interject.

“Shut up, Sam!” “Sam, shut up!” Emily and Dean said. They scowled at each other.

“You don’t get to tell me that you understand what I am going through.” Emily pushed Dean, who landed on the doorframe.

“Oh, I don’t?!” huffed Dean.

“Guys!” said Sam again, louder than before. Emily closed her eyes, trying to recollect herself. She took a deep breath and turned around.

“What?!”

“I think we have company,” he whispered. Sam pointed at the other side of the room, where a figure was leaning, in the dark, on the wall. Emily reached for her gun and Dean turned on the light. A familiar voice she hadn't heard in a long time resounded in the room.

“I see you two are still fighting.” Everything stood still. That was John. Emily’s stomach dropped. She had not seen John in almost a year, but his voice wasn't one she could ever forget. She did not move. Dean lost any interest in the fight he and Emily were having and walked to hug his father. Emily glared over at Sam. He was frozen in place, shocked by the sight of his father.

“Dad?” was all Emily could utter. Sam dropped his duffel on the floor, making the weapons clank on each other. John walked past him and straight to Emily. She drew her in a hug that- for some reason- made Emily’s body stiffen up. She frowned, unable to reciprocate. John still had his signature beer and sweat scent she hated so much.  

“Dad, it was a trap. I didn’t know, I’m sorry,” said Dean. John let go of Emily.

“It’s all right. I thought it might’ve been.” Emily, free from the hug, crossed her arms and started to click the rubber band.

“So… you were there?” asked Dean.

“Yeah, I got there just in time to see the girl take the swan dive.” John looked around. “She was the bad guy, right?”

“Yes, sir.” Dean and Sam answered in unison. Emily remained silent. John glared at her, but didn't reprimand her.

“Good. Well, it doesn’t surprise me. It’s tried to stop me before.”

“The demon?” asked Sam. John nodded.

“It knows I’m close,” he said. “It knows I’m gonna kill it. Not just exorcize it or send it back to hell… actually kill it.” Emily glared at Sam, raising her eyebrows.

“How?” asked Dean.

“I’m working on that,” John said. Sam took a step forward.

“Let us come with you!” he said. “We’ll help.”

“No, Sam, not yet,” John answered. “Try to understand: this demon is a scary son of a bitch. I don’t want you caught in the crossfire. I don’t want you hurt.”

“Dad, you don't have to worry about us,” Sam complained. Dean crossed his arms.

“Of course I do. I’m your father.” John released a sigh. “Listen- Sammy, last time we were together, we had one hell of a fight.” Emily clicked the rubber band on her wrist. Click. “It's good to see you again. It's been a long time.” Click. Sam and John hugged. Emily saw Dean open his mouth to say something, but then felt a force throwing her through the bathroom door. A shadow towered her and scratched her, leaving deep marks on her abdomen and arms. She screamed. Her ears started ringing. The sound of her heart beating was the only thing that came through until a bright light invaded the room and a hand dragged her out of the motel. She found herself in the backseat of a car. She opened her eyes just enough to recognize the Impala. The car started. Emily looked down at herself. You’re fine. She thought to herself as she saw the blood soak her overalls. No need to panic. But it was too late. Emily felt the familiar tingling sensation on her face and her breath growing short. No, come on- don’t do this right now. You’re okay. Sam and Dean were arguing in the front seat, not paying any attention to Emily and her panic attack. Of course not. At least, not until Sam turned towards her, probably asking something. But Emily couldn’t hear it. She stared in front of her, trying to pace her breathing.

“Emily?” said Sam’s voice. He sounded like he was in another room. Emily heard more fighting, only understanding bits and pieces. “We need to stop-” “...far enough-” She was nauseous, more and more every second. Just as she was about to vomit, the car came to a sudden halt. Emily rushed out of the car and stumbled to the ground. Sam appeared next to her to help her hair back.

“It’s alright, we’re safe now,” he said. The car engine was still going. When she turned towards the car, she saw Dean looking around and tapping on the steering wheel.

“Sam, we need to go!” he called.

“Enough, Dean, she-” Sam tried to stand up to go speak to Dean, but Emily grabbed his wrist. Please don’t leave me. She thought. Please don’t leave me here. “Dean, your sister is sick, care to show some compassion?” Sam said, looking back at the car.

“I’m trying to save her life, care to collaborate?”

“Dean-”

“We’ll all be dead if we don’t leave!” Something snapped in Emily’s brain.

“JUST GIVE ME FIVE FUCKING MINUTES!” she yelled. Her voice came out distorted, hoarse. “Jesus Christ, Dean, when will you worry about the right thing? WHEN?!” She stood up and took a step towards the car. She felt the nausea intensify and held on to the car to vomit. Sam walked past her and around the car. Emily slid down the side of the car, tears starting to stream down her face. She heard indistinguishable whispers and the sound of Dean coming out of the car. He appeared next to her.

“Alright, enough now-” Dean tried to force her off the ground. Emily resisted.

“Stop!” she said. “Don’t-”

“We don’t have time for this, just-”

“I said no!” Emily tried to fight Dean back, but he grabbed her by the arm and forced her to stand. “Dean, let me go!” Dean threw her in the backseat and lifted her shirt to see her wound. He frowned.

“You’ll be fine,” he said. Emily failed to hide a sob. “And stop crying.”

“Damn it, Dean-” said Sam. Dean turned.

“What?” Emily didn’t know what Sam’s look for Dean meant, but he must have, because he rolled his eyes and left. Emily looked at Sam, feeling the nausea catching up with her again. Sam moved just in time before Emily vomited right outside the car. The world started spinning and her ears started to ring.

Emily woke up in a motel room. The panic was gone, but were replaced by a horrible sense of starvation and thirst. She also had a terrible headache, and her nose, which she didn’t recall being painful, hurt. A lot. All the wounds the Daeva inflicted also were stinging for the sweat she was covered in. The first person she saw was Dean. He was sitting at the motel table, looking at the opposite wall, and was reading an old-looking book.

“Fuck you,” was what Emily meant to say, but all she was able to do was let out a groan. Enough for Dean to notice her.

“Look who’s awake,” he said, standing up. He handed her a bottle of water. “Are you feeling better?” Emily ignored the question and drank the water. “I bet it you’re thirsty, kid, you’ve been out two days.” She stopped the bottle in front of her lips, raising her eyebrows. “Thought you were gone for good for a hot second.”

“You’re the one who said I was going to be fine, not me.”

“Oh, no, I mean gone gone, like Girls, Interrupted gone.” Emily frowned. “Well, while you are awake, it’s time to change that bandage.” Dean walked towards a duffel bag in the corner.

“Those things got you good.” Emily rolled her eyes.

“Again, you’re the one who said-”

“Well, I was right, wasn’t I? You’re here.”

“Yeah, no thanks to you.”

“Who do you think patched you up? Because it was not Sam for sure. He was busy keeping you still.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” she asked.

“You put up quite a fight.”

“Dean, I passed out.” Emily scoffed.

“Yeah, sure,” he said. “Not sure what you mean by being passed out, but that was not it. Look.” He rolled up his sleeve, showing what looked like claw marks on his forearm. “I had to punch you in the nose to make you stop.”

“Well, that explains the pain,” she said, touching her nose. “I would be lying if I said you didn’t have it coming.” Dean remained silent. Emily looked down at her abdomen. Dental floss. Of course Sam and Dean used a Winchester-style “dressing” - if it could even be considered as such. “Jesus Christ, Dean, who did this? Dr. Frankenstein?” she said, “I got medical supplies in my bag. Take those.”

Sam came back into the room a few minutes later, holding a plastic bag filled with what seemed to be very cheap take out. Dean left his place over Emily’s wound, and Sam sat at his place instead.

“So,” he said. ”Were you really four years ahead of your class?” Emily rolled her eyes.

“Come on, do you really want to do this right now?”

“Just curious.” Sam attempted a smile. “And right now you can’t run, so…” Emily huffed. “You always say you’re twenty, but, you know- math is telling me something else.” Emily looked around for a way to change the subject. Everybody treated her as a kid enough as it was, she was never going to hear the end of it if she gave away her age. “Come on, stop avoiding the question,” said Sam. “Just tell us.”

“By the way, I never said I was twenty. I always say I’m old enough. But if you really have to know, I’m fifteen.” Sam raised his eyebrows and looked at Dean.

“You’re what?!” Dean said.

“Dude!” said Sam. “I told you there was no way she was twenty!”

“How was I supposed to know?!” Dean answered. “Dad had me drop her off on her first day of junior year, I did my math!” Emily scoffed. Sam covered her wound and stood up.

“So you were one of those gifted children?” asked Sam. Emily sighed.

“Yeah,” she said, looking away. “Yeah, I was.” Dean remained silent for a few minutes.

“Wait,” he said. “In the past year I brought you to bars. You hooked up with people. You hooked up with Amy, that- that police officer in Hibbing!”

“Yeah,” she lied. “And?”

“Emily, that’s not okay. You’re a kid. You’re not supposed to have sex.” Emily raised her eyebrows.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t lose your virginity way too early,” she said, “I’ll actually go ahead and guess: you lost it in a bathroom stall with a girl with some basic name. Like… Heather.”

“God, you’re a smartass.” Dean huffed. Emily crossed her arms and stared at him. Sam covered his mouth, failing to hide a chuckle. “Okay- But that’s different.”

“Why?! Because I’m a girl?” she scoffed.

“Yeah, that’s- that’s the reason! You’re a girl. Men take advantage of girls like you all the time!”

“Speaking from experience?” Emily said. Sam laughed.

“Ouch-” he said, looking at Dean. “That must have hurt.”

“Fuck off- both of you!” Dean shook his head and stood up. “I’ll go grab you some meds,” he said. “Or maybe I’ll actually grab some sedative so I can shut you up.” Sam walked to the table and handed Emily a box of take out just as Dean left the room.

“Here, I was going to have this but I’m not hungry.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” Sam smiled. “By the way,” he said. “I can't believe you said a bad word.” Sam smirked and Emily shook her head. “I was like - really? 'Fucking'? That's over the line.”

“Funny," she said. “Real funny.”

Requiem

From Dear Evan Hansen

Emily dragged her hand across her face and grabbed a fry off of Sam’s plate.

“I can’t believe dad’s gone again and we can’t even find a decent gig.” There was a hint of boredom in her voice: while she didn't necessarily like hunting, she also couldn't stand going around doing absolutely nothing.

“I thought you’d be happy to have some vacation,” said Dean, eyeing Sam’s fries that had been sitting untouched in his plate for over twenty minutes. “Are you…” He moved his hand above Sam’s plate. Sam pushed the plate towards Dean with a sigh and went back to his laptop.

“This isn’t vacation. This is torture,” said Emily. “All we’ve done the past two weeks is pool scams. We keep going like this, there isn’t going to be a single bar in Minnesota we can enter.”

“I mean, we’ve got some extra money, we can treat ourselves,” Sam said with a smile. “Maybe we can go to Broadway.” Emily opened her mouth to talk, her eyes widening in excitement, but Dean was quicker.

“We’re not going to Broadway. We’ve made 200 bucks- at best. That’s barely enough for gas.” Emily rolled her eyes.

“So we can’t work, but we also can’t have fun. How’s that fair?” she complained, stealing a fry from Dean's newly acquired plate. He scowled at her, moving the plate closer to him.

“I think I’ve got something.,” said Sam, turning his laptop. “A man named Daniel Elkins, in Colorado, was mauled in his home. The police cannot figure it out.”

“Did you say Elkins?” said Dean. The interest in Sam's friend died quickly, and Emily moved the plate towards her. “I think I’ve heard that name before.” Dean grabbed John’s journal from his inner pocket and flipped through it. “Here.” He turned it towards Sam. Emily leaned over the table to look at the journal, which read: D Elkins, 970-555-0158 in a corner.

“You think dad's sending us on a treasure hunt again?” she asked, sitting back down and chewing on another fry.

“No,” Dean said. “But it's worth checking out.”

Sam lockpicked the door to Elkins’ cabin while Dean and Emily stood guard, making sure nobody was watching them. They all turned on their flashlights while entering.

“Looks like the maid didn’t come in today,” said Dean with a frown. The cabin had been rummaged inside out, broken lamps, a hole in the roof, scratches on the floor and drawers torn apart. Windows and doors were protected with salt.

“Do you think this guy was a hunter?” asked Emily, touching the salt.

“Maybe he's just on a high sodium diet,” Dean answered, walking past her. She pushed him. “Hey, ask stupid questions, get stupid answers,” he continued, looking back at her.

“High sodium diets are not a thing,” Emily said. “Sodium makes you bloat, how do you not know this?” Dean looked at her and smirked.

“I'm not a chick,” he answered.

“Th-”

“Cut it out,” Sam complained. “Look what I got here.” Emily turned to look at him. He was holding a journal that looked like the one John had: it was old and made of leather, pages often had something glued on them or had been slightly ruined with time. Textbook hunter journal, from her limited experience. Sam opened it. “This dates way farther than dad’s. It’s from the sixties.” Dean said, handing the journal to Sam. Whoever was in there last was looking for something. As Emily walked away to inspect the house, a scratch on the wood pavement got Emily’s attention. It seemed to form numbers and letters. She flashed her light at it, but they were unclear. Dean appeared next to her.

“Here,” he said, taking out a piece of paper. “Got a pen?” Emily opened her backpack and handed him her entire pencil case. “Nerd.” With a smirk, Dean grabbed a pencil and used it to get the outline: it was a sequence of letters and numbers, similar to what John often left them to indicate coordinates.

Sam and Emily walked in the post office the coordinates pointed to and emptied Daniel Elkins’ drop box. They found a single item: an envelope, marked JW, as in John Winchester.

“Or Johnatan Weiner. No way to tell for sure,” joked Emily.

“You know what?” Sam chuckled. “I’ll give you five hundred dollars if it is.” They walked out of the post office and sat in the Impala. “Should we open it?” said Sam. Just at that moment, someone knocked on the car window. They turned, scared, just to see John.

“Dad- what are you doing here?!” Emily said, leaning over Sam's legs to open the window. John opened the door and unceremoniously folded the front seat over Sam and Emily's backs to sit in the back: a common practice in the Winchester family which she hated more than she hated the fact they refused to get a modern car.

“Are you okay?” Sam turned in his seat to look at his dad.

“I’m okay,” John answered. “I read the news about Daniel and I got here as fast as I could. I saw you at his place.” Emily frowned.

“Wh- Why didn’t you come in?!” she asked.

“I was making sure you weren’t followed. By anything, or anyone,” said John. “Where’s Dean?”

“He’s- back at the motel. He drove all night, he’s resting,” said Sam. “We just came here to-”

“You two shouldn’t be hunting by yourselves.” Emily frowned.

“Dad, this isn’t hunting,” she complained. “We didn’t even need to go undercover, we had Elkins’ combination,”

“You’re not ready to be out here alone, Emily.” John repeated. “You k-”

“I’m not ready to go to the post office alone?” she asked.

“Now, give me the address to the motel,” John said, completely ignoring her. “I’ll meet you down there.” Without letting Emily complain any further, he folded the seat again, stepped out of the car and walked towards his truck.

Emily entered the motel and kicked Dean’s bed. He answered with a groan.

“Wake up, recruit,” she said. “Sergeant’s here.” Dean sat in his bed. Before John was able to walk in the room, Dean was already standing up.

“Did you let Sam and Emily hunt by themselves?”

“Again?” said Sam. “Dad, we weren’t hunting, we just went to pick something up from the post office. Are we not old enough to do that either?”

“I’m just saying it’s not safe,” said John. Dean brushed his face with his hand. Emily scoffed.

“You’re right, dad,” Dean answered. “Sorry-”

“What?!” said Emily. She looked over to Sam, who was biting the inside of his cheek, nervous.

“Whatever,” said John. Emily scoffed again, earning a scowl from his father. Strike two. Three, counting the fact she'd just called him sergeant. “Give me the letter.” Sam took the letter out of his pocket and gave it to John. He sat on the bed. Upon touching it, he must have felt it warm  because he looked at Dean and shook his head. He opened the letter. Emily crossed her arms and took two steps back to stop next to Sam.

“Coffee?” she sighed. Sam nodded but didn’t turn. He was staring at John. Emily grabbed a cup from the motel’s counters and filled it from the coffee machine. It was barely warm, but she handed Sam the cup. He didn’t react at all. She placed it on the table next to him and walked back to fill another cup to hand to Dean. There was nothing she wanted less than having to deal with an uncaffeinated Dean.

“Thanks kid,” he said, a weirdly surprised expression on his face. He drank a sip of coffee, then turned. “Are you not gonna have any?” he asked. Emily hesitated.

“We’re out of mugs,” she shrugged and looked towards Sam. He didn’t answer. Dean frowned. He was just about to speak, when John broke his silence.

“They have it,” he said. Emily frowned.

“What?” she said.

“The gun. They have it. We have to pick up the trail.” Emily looked at Sam, than at Dean, but either of them looked back at her.

“What gun? Is it important?” asked Sam. “And who is ‘they’?”

“Yes It’s important, because I said so,” said John. Emily cracker her fingers, nervous, and John immediately scowled at her. She slowly moved her hands apart.

“Dad-” Sam tried to complain, but there was no complaining with John.

“Enough. We need to get ready.” He said. It wasn't a request, it was an order. It always was with him. “Dean, y-”

“For what?” asked Sam, upset. He put down the coffee and walked towards John. “See, here’s the problem! Stop- stop it with the cryptic message and tell us what we’re going after!” John looked at Sam without losing control of a single muscle on his face.

“Elkins’ specialty,” he said. “Vampires.” ^[a]

She spent the night with Dean, being taught how to use a machete. At first, Emily thought it was a joke. According to John, she wasn't old enough to go to the post office alone, but also, according to John, she was old enough to behead vampires. Make it make sense. Dean didn't give a sign of enjoying teaching her, not even for a second.

“Not like that,” he complained. “Look.” Dean proceeded to do the exact same thing she'd just done. “You need to go hard.”

“Yeah, sorry I don't have the muscles or testosterone of a twenty six year old man,” she whispered. “Look, it's two in the morning, can we just go to sleep?”

“Not until you do it right,” he said. “Trust me, you'd be glad you have muscle memory when you’ll need it.”

“Wouldn't it be best if I just stayed home?” she complained. “I'm obviously not good at this!”

“Dad said you're coming, so you're coming,” he said. “I don't call the shots when he's here.”

The following morning John woke Emily and her brothers up and rushed them to leave. Before she had the time to realize what was happening, they were already at a crime scene. Not a single explanation, just an order to stay in the car. Emily waited until he couldn’t see her anymore and put both feet on the seat. Dean was too focused on studying John’s moves to notice.

“This is stupid,” said Emily. “We’ve always been fine at crime scenes.”

“Yeah,” Sam sighed. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Can we not? Please?” Emily was about to answer, but saw John walk back towards the car and hurried to put down her feet and dust off the leather. Dean looked at her and rolled his eyes. “Seriously?”

“They are heading west, we should move,” he said. Dean nodded and looked at Sam, expecting him to start the engine. His hands hovered over the keys for a moment. Dean had let him drive after fighting him for twenty minutes on their way there.

“How do you know?” Sam asked, looking at John through the open window.

“Sam-” Dean tried to interject, but Sam insisted.

“I just want to know if we are going in the right direction!” he complained.

“We are,” said John. He then stayed silent, looking at Sam. “Any other questions?” When Sam didn’t answer, John proceeded to walk back to his car and drive away. As Sam merged into the road, mumbling something under his breath, Dean threw Emily Elkins’ journal they had found at the cabin. She got hit in the face before she could even react to it.

“See what you can find on vampires,” Dean said. Emily rolled her eyes and kicked off her right shoe to put her foot up on the seat. She kept reading in silence until she found a paragraph that seemed relevant.

“Okay, listen to this, vampires nest in groups of eight to ten. Smaller packs are sent to hunt for food...Uh- Victims are taken to the nest, where the pack keeps them alive for weeks or days...” She looked up at Dean. “I wonder if that’s what happened to the couple.” Dean nodded, but Sam was still staring at the road in front of him, his knuckles whitening around the steering wheel.

“Yeah, maybe dad thinks that too,” he said. “Of course, it would be nice if he told us so.” Emily saw Dean roll his eyes through the rearview mirror and went back to the journal. “By the way, you could have backed me up, you know?” he said. Emily took a second to notice he was talking with her. When Dean didn’t answer, she lifted her eyes off the pages and frowned.

“I beg your pardon?” she asked.

“Yeah- with dad. Nothing’s ever going to change if I'm the only one who complains,” Sam said. Emily frowned. Jury still wasn't out on Sam, and he wanted her to back him up?

“And what? Get him mad at me, too?” she scoffed. “No offense, but absolutely not.”

“Why not?!” Sam asked, turning to look at her for a moment. “He shouldn’t treat us like that, and you know it!”

“Has it ever occurred to you that my main concern might be how not to get killed by a vampire right now?” she asked. Sam shook his head. “I practiced until three in the morning yesterday and I couldn't get it right! So no, I don't care if we're going in the right direction!”

“Cool- so you’re on Dean’s side now?” he asked. Emily tried to answer. “Everything goes as long as we manage to kill the bad guy?!”

“That's not what I said, I-” her voice started to crack.

“Come on, he treats us like children! All he does is bark orders, we are not even allowed to ask questions!” Emily swallowed and forced herself to not sound like she was about to cry.

“Did you forget to go to your comprehension classes at Stanford?” she asked. “I just said-”

“Didn’t need to say it!”

“Oh, right, so it’s a pragmatics issue?” she asked. Dean looked back at her, confused. “You think it’s implied or something like that?” Emily looked at Sam and he shook his head, muttering something under his breath. “What the hell is your problem?!” she asked.

“Dean’s right about you,” he hissed, looking out the window to change lanes. “It’s impossible to talk with you.” Emily opened her mouth to answer and looked at Dean, about to get mad at him, too, but his phone started to ring, so she decided to keep going with Sam.

“I’m just trying to exist!” she yelled. Dean gestured at her to stay silent and answered the phone. She ignored him. “Look- I’m not happy about it either, but I’m not gonna get fucking killed because you don’t like how dad runs things!”

“Will you shut the fuck up?!” asked Dean, putting his phone on his chest to cover the microphone, nervous. Emily rolled her eyes. She dried her face. “Sorry dad, what did you say?” Dean scowled at her. “Alright- got it.” He closed the call. “Pull off at the next exit,” he said to Sam.

“Why?” Sam asked. Emily closed her eyes and leaned back into the backseat.

“Who cares?” she yelled. “Just pull off!”

“You know what?” Sam answered, his blinker not even on. “Fuck off, okay? I tried to be nice to you! I tried!” Emily looked at the exit sign getting closer. She looked at Dean. They weren't gonna make it. “Now I get why Dean’s being such an asshole to you-” Seeing that Sam wasn’t turning, Emily leaned on the front seats and turned the steering wheel, almost causing them to crash. Sam stopped the car on the side of the road and turned to look at her.

“Are you insane?!” Dean yelled.

“He was going to miss the turn!”

“Yeah- and you almost killed us!” he answered. “Emily, you can’t do stuff like that!”

“He’s the one who wouldn’t take the fucking exit!”  John’s truck pulled over behind them, and Sam opened the door and walked towards it.

“Crap, here we go-” said Dean, giving one last look at Emily before following Sam out. “Stay in the car.” Emily ignored him and folded the front seat to step out of the car. She caught up with Dean and walked past him. He tried to call her, but she ignored him and went straight to Sam, adrenaline rushing through her body and yelling at her to punch him, straight in the nose. She felt Dean’s hand try to keep her away, but her arm slid through his fingers. She pushed Sam to get his attention. He turned.

“What the hell is your problem?!” she yelled and pushed him again. She felt steps behind him and her father’s hand on her shoulder. She shoved it away. Sam was ignoring her, staring at a point behind her, where her father was standing. “HEY!” Sam didn’t take his eyes off John. “I’M TALKING TO YOU!”

“I just want some answers,” he said, still not bothering to look at her.

“Aw, is that it?” she asked, shoving another hand away. “The golden boy wants to know which way to go?” Sam looked at her.

“You know what? Why am I even arguing with you?” he asked. “You're just a kid looking for attention.”

“I’m not a kid and I am not looking for anything!” she complained. “If anything, you're-”

“You sure?” Sam asked. “Go on then, show dad your arms! See what he has to say about that!” Emily then shut her fist, ready to strike Sam. Dean intervened. He moved in the middle of the two siblings, moving Sam away while John did the same with his daughter. But in a matter of moments, Emily realised John wasn't trying to hold her back, he was trying to yank her sleeve up. Unable to set herself free from John’s hold on her wrist, all she could do was look away as he stared at her arm.

“What is this?” he asked, turning her arm towards her. Her shoulder cracked and she hissed. “So?”

“Since when do you care?” she asked.

“Since it has been brought to my attention,” John answered. He kept her forearm turned towards her, hurting her shoulder. She tried to look at Dean for help, but he didn't move. Her stomach closed. She was on her own for that one. Everything stood silent for a second, her eyes filling with tears. “You’re really trying to tell me you never noticed?!” she asked, trying not to cry. “All the blood stains on my shirts didn’t really tip you off?”

“You are a grown woman, I expect you to-”

“I’M NOT A GROWN WOMAN!” she screamed, tears spilling out of her eyes. “AND HOW ABOUT MY EXPECTATIONS?!” She pointed at herself with her free arm. “I EXPECTED YOU TO BE MY DAD!” Just like that, her arm got set free, but just because John needed his hand to slap her. There were some lines nobody could cross with John Winchester, and one of them was to question his parenting abilities. And she knew that going into the fight. She put a hand on her cheek, the heat from the slap still on it as she felt the skin get swollen. She stood there, mind blank, not knowing what to do. She was about to cry, but that was the last thing she wanted to do. Crying meant he'd won. And she couldn't let him have it.

“You better start showing me some respect, young lady-”

“I thought I was supposed to be a grown woman,” she whispered, starting to walk towards the Impala.

“I’m not done with you!” Yelled John. Emily stopped and turned.

“You know why I keep acting like a kid?” she asked. She looked at Dean. He sighed. “Because that's what I am!” she yelled  “You giving me a fake id and a gun doesn't make me an adult! You wanna treat me as such? Fine! But then how I deal with my pain is my own business, so leave me alone!” She turned around again and walked towards the car, which sat idle on the side of the street with both doors open. She heard Dean say something to his dad, and before she could reach the car, another hand stopped her.

“Leave me alone!” she yelled, turning around to see Dean was the one trying to stop her.

“W-”

“I said-” she stopped talking, distracted by John and Sam, who were fighting a few feet away.

“Sam, is there something you want to tell me?” John asked. Dean looked at Emily, then behind him, and let her go and walked back towards Sam.

“That's an understatement,” said Sam. Emily's legs started to shake and she found herself unable to walk back to the car. She stood there.

“Sammy, we should do this later,” Dean said, but neither John nor Sam answered.

“I want answers,” said Sam. “Last time we saw you, you told us it was too dangerous to be together.” Emily dried her face, trying to stay silent so that she could calm down and maybe get back to the car. And maybe drive it away. And maybe never have to see the Winchesters again. Dean turned towards her and saw her, and for a split second she almost thought he wanted to walk back to her. But of course, she was wrong. “Now you want our help?” Sam continued. “Why? There is obviously something big going on!”

“How many times do I have to tell you that there is no fighting while on a hunt?” said John. “Now get back in the car.”

“No,” Sam said. John looked at him.

“I said get back in the damn car!”

“And I said no.”

“STOP!” she yelled. Everyone turned to look at her. Her mouth dried out more than it already had. She swallowed. Maybe it was better if she didn't continue speaking. That would have gotten her slapped again. But they were looking at her. All of them. They were all waiting. “Not everything is about you- a- and- and your fucking obsession for avenging your dead girlfriends!” she said. Dean’s face turned from confused to alarmed, but he didn't move. It was fine if she had to get slapped again. She could take it. “We all lost someone, so do everyone a favour, shut the fuck up and get in the fucking car!”

“I am not going anywhere,” Sam answered. Emily opened her mouth, but Dean intervened.

“Okay, that’s it-” Dean grabbed Emily and dragged her back to the Impala. The fight between Sam and John continued in the background. Emily shoved Dean's hold away. “I hope you’re happy,” he said. Emily avoided looking at him, as if it could hide the fact that she was crying.  

“What?” she asked.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“What are you talking about?” Emily looked back at Sam and John. “I was saying-”

“Yeah, right. All the being a bitch, and complaining, and riling Sam up- you just wanted him to take the fall with dad.” Emily blinked in disbelief. Why did everybody always think she wanted to drop her responsibilities on someone else?

“You know what?” she said. “I’m done!” She raised her hands and started walking around the car to get her things from the backseat. Where would she go? Anywhere but there. anywhere but with the Winchesters. “I am so done!” she repeated. Dean looked at her as she walked away.

“What did you say?” he asked, following her while she opened the car door.

“I said I AM DONE! DONE WITH ALL OF YOU!” she screamed. Sam and John also stopped arguing. Dean looked back and then followed Emily along the road. “I’D BETTER OFF LIVING UNDER A FUCKING BRIDGE!”

“Emily, st-” he said.

“SHUT UP!” Emily turned and pushed him away. “Message received, okay?! You don’t give a shit about me!”

“Em-”

“Stop saying my name!” she said. “Stop saying it like you care! IF I KILLED MYSELF TOMORROW YOU WOULD NOT GIVE A SHIT!” There it was. The second slap. Apples never fall far from their trees. The Winchesters in all their glory. Opposite from John, Dean actually looked like he knew what he'd just done was wrong. There was almost a hint of guilt in his features. The road stood still for a second. Not a single sound. She looked at him and then turned to continue walking away. Emily heard Dean whisper something, then she felt his hands on her as he dragged her back to the car. She fought back, but he crossed her arms behind her back and pushed her on the side of the car.

“I swear to god if you don’t stop acting looney-fucking-tunes I’ll hit you for real,” he said. Emily tried to squirm herself free, to no avail, so her anger transformed into frustration, which made her break into sobs again. She placed her forehead on the cold metal car and heard John’s truck starting and Sam walking towards her and Dean. Sam reached for the front seat, but Dean stopped him.

“Get in the back,” he said.

“What?! Dean, come on-”

“I said, get in the back!” yelled Dean, struggling to keep Emily still. Sam mumbled something under his breath as he took place in the backseat. “Okay, listen to me-” said Dean, still holding her still. “You’re angry, I get it, but I’m also starting to be fucking fed up with you and your nobody-loves-me act.” Emily huffed. “So here’s what’s going to happen: you calm down, stop crying and start acting like a normal person.” Emily rolled her eyes and forced herself to hold her breath. Dean let go of her and pushed her towards the passenger’s seat.

Dean drove them to the nest in silence. He parked the car and waited for Sam to step out. As he and John started selecting their weapons in religious silence, Dean remained in the car and looked towards Emily.

“This is how this is going to go,” he said. Emily rolled her eyes and looked away. “Dad’s gonna want you benched, and he's gonna want you to walk back to the motel,” he explained. “I’ll handle it, okay? You wait here.”

“It’s fine. I can walk back,” she whispered.

“Emily, it’s a five mile hike,” Dean said. Emily rolled her eyes. He looked at her for a few seconds, then left her alone in the car. She heard him talk with John, but couldn't pick up the exact words. A few minutes later, he opened the passenger’s door. “Stay glued to my ass and shut up, okay?” he said. Emily didn't answer. “And put this on your face.” Emily looked at him and he was giving her an ice pack. She didn't take it, just stepped out of the car and to the trunk. Dean appeared next to her with a sigh and threw the ice pack back in the trunk. “Alright, so- our best bet is decapitation,” he explained.

“I’m sorry, our best bet?” Emily frowned.

“What did I just say?” Emily rolled her eyes. Dean opened the duffel he kept in the trunk and gave her a machete. “Maybe don’t try it on yourself.” Emily looked at him. Was that supposed to be a joke? One of those things where you go “ahah”? If it was, it was a poorly executed one.

        Emily entered the barn before Dean. She clutched her machete so hard her hands hurt. Her heart was beating in her chest and her nerves were so sensible she would have beheaded a rat if it scared her. They followed John inside the nest, vampires sleeping all around the place, until they found the victim they were looking for. John kept walking, looking for the Colt. Dean gestured at Emily to check out what seemed like a gate at the end of the room. She managed not to make a sound and checked inside. It was filled with people didn't look like vampires. Some of them were dead, or passed out, or just very bloody. She looked back at Dean, trying to get his attention, but he was looking the other way. She swallowed. She had to do it, right? She had to open it. She used her knife to break the lock, making a sharp noise. She froze. She felt Dean and Sam’s gazes on her and turned as slow as she could. The vampires kept sleeping. Just as she was about to open the gate, however, someone screamed. All the vampires woke up and she heard John order them to run, so she did. She ran towards the closest window, jumped out of it and then ran through the woods. She hid behind a tree just to realize she was alone. Nobody had come out the same window. At least, nobody good. She turned to see a vampire run full speed towards her. She ran again, but the vampire was catching on. She only had one shot at killing it. If she failed, she was done for. She tried to calculate the timing to the best of her abilities, if I stop now and turn, I can- She didn’t even have the time to think through it, that she’d done it. She turned and pushed the machete through the vampire’s neck. The blood sprayed on her face and on her overalls, and it dripped from the machete to her arms. She tripped and fell. She realized she’d never seen so much blood all at the same time and that maybe it was for the best that she didn’t become a surgeon. She looked around. She had no idea which direction she was supposed to go, nobody was in sight. She checked her phone and it didn’t have any signal. She forced herself to remember how many random turns she had taken while running, but in the end, she had to guess. She walked. And walked. And then walked some more. In the end, she arrived on the edge of the road. Which was not recognizable. No landmarks, not signs. Just a straight road. Could have been the one they came from, or any other random straight road in the state. She was covered in blood: she had to get away from the road before someone saw her. Unsure what to do, she looked at her phone again. She’d been walking for an hour. And still, no signal. She heard some noises behind her. She turned, but didn’t see anybody. I can’t stay on the road. She thought to herself. I’m too easy to spot. So, she walked back in the woods and kept going in the same direction. Soon or later, she was going to find a sign, or signal for her phone. Or maybe she'd pass out and die. Whatever came first. She heard more noises, but still couldn’t figure out where they were coming from. Aaaaand, I’m lost. Definitely seen this tree before. Maybe she should have stopped and waited somewhere. Maybe Dean, Sam and John were looking for her and she was just getting farther and farther away. She heard someone call her name. She turned and saw Dean in the distance.

“Dean?” she asked. Dean turned towards her and walked faster.

“Emily, damn it- Where the hell were you?!” he asked, stopping in front of her. “What’s all this blood?”

“A vampire followed me,” she explained. “Good news, decapitation works.” Emily handed him the machete. She didn't want it in her hands any longer. Dean nodded towards the opposite side.

“I’m telling you now- Dad’s not happy you went missing.”

“Dad’s never happy about me,” complained Emily. “I just- ran towards the nearest window. That’s all.” Emily shoved her hands in her pockets and kept walking a few steps behind Dean, staring at his boots leaving marks on the leaves over and over, until the leaves dissipated and made way for concrete.

“I’m sorry but we’re gonna have to make a stop before we go to the motel,” said Dean. Emily looked at him as he sat in the driver’s seat. Dean hesitated. “Dad needs some dead man’s blood.”

Emily entered the motel holding a jar of blood in her left hand. She placed it in front of John. He looked at her, then at Dean.

“You took a while,” he said. “Where is she coming from?”

“Found her walking back here,” he said with a look towards Emily. She frowned. “Thought I’d be nice and give her a lift.” Emily was about to speak to say he was lying, but Dean intervened. “She killed one of the vampires by herself.”

“You should have followed your brothers,” said John. Emily raised her eyebrows. Not even a little bit impressed. “Go get cleaned up.” Emily looked at Dean, who shrugged. Emily scoffed, grabbed her shower bag  and entered the bathroom. She opened the shower water and heard some faint arguing outside the door, but chose to ignore it. She looked through the bag to find shampoo and conditioner. She threw her clothes in a corner and stepped in the shower. As water dissolved the blood from her body, the fresher cuts on her arm started to burn. It had been a while since she last hurt herself. The burn was almost ignorable. Emily lowered herself until she was sitting at the bottom of the shower. Come on. She thought. You can’t keep doing that. You have to find another way. But what way? And would that change? She’d bounce around from hurting herself to what- alcoholism? Turn herself into John? Not that it mattered. Nothing was ever going to change. Things weren’t going to get better. It was just going to get worse and worse and worse. Before she knew, her arms were bleeding again, and the water burned over her skin. A lot. She washed her hair, trying to endure the pain of the shampoo dripping on her open cuts, and then turned off the water. She was getting dressed when someone knocked on the door. And then knocked again.

“Jesus- one second!” Emily wore the flannel she used to sleep and opened the door. It was Dean. The room behind him seemed empty. “What?” she asked.

“Show me your arms,” he said.

“What?” said Emily, grabbing the edge of her sleeves. The tremble in her voice gave her away, because Dean rolled his eyes.

“I convinced dad not to bring it up anymore, but I need to keep an eye on you,” he said.

“No, Dean- I’m not- There’s nothing to see!” With a sigh, Dean grabbed her arm and yanked her sleeve up. She hissed in pain. “Jesus- Way to be nice about it.” Dean looked at her arm and seemed to need a second to take in the sight.

“No, I don’t think you understand,” he said. “I’m not going to be nice about this. The reason dad let me take care of this is because he thinks I can make you stop.”

“So what, you- you’re going to check on me and then go tell daddy?” Dean rolled his eyes and let go of her arm. She covered it back up.

“No,” said Dean. “I really don’t want to see you two fight about this, we've got enough of that.” Emily frowned and crossed her arms.  

“You don’t need to lie to him,” said Emily. “I can handle him.”

“No,” answered Dean. “I can assure you, you can’t.”

“Why would you cover for me?” Emily continued, stepping out of the bathroom.

“Don’t get it twisted- I just want some peace in this family. For like- one fucking second.” Emily walked to her bag and took out her hairdryer. She stopped walking, turning away from him.

“Dean, did- did dad tell you not to look for me?” she asked. Dean didn't answer. “Thank you for looking for me anyway.”  

“You're welcome, kid.”

So Big / So Small

From Dear Evan Hansen

She was used to nightmares. She had them way more often than she cared to admit. But usually, she would dream of something she cared about. Her mother, Alex, the night they died. That night, it was different: she saw a man with yellow eyes in a dark room. He was looking at her. There was a baby boy in a nursery. He cooed. Emily blinked and she was outside, a woman was looking out of a window. She was looking at her. Everything got clearer. She started to feel pain. She blinked again and she wasn’t in the street anymore, she was looking at the baby, but from above. It was almost like she was on the ceiling. The pain grew. It was sharp, like a stab right at the base of her chest. The man with yellow eyes was still looking at her.

She woke up in a panic, sweaty and towered by Dean. She tried to sit down and realized she was on the ground. The pain disappeared with her nightmare and she realized where she was. They were traveling towards Iowa. She was on the side of the road.

“Are you okay?” asked Dean, helping her sit. The car was still running idle a handful of feet away from them.

“Yeah, just- just a bad dream I guess.”

“Are you sure?” asked Sam, who had also appeared next to her. They both seemed way too worried. Emily frowned. What else would it be? And how did she end up outside of the car.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she mumbled, standing back up. “Where are we?” She cleaned the dirt off her overalls.

“Dude, are you sure you're okay?” Sam asked. Emily looked at him but didn't answer. She looked at Dean, waiting for an answer.

“A few miles out, we gotta start looking for a motel,” he said with a sigh. “Emily-”

“If you ask if I'm okay one more time I swear to god I’ll start shooting,” she complained, sitting back in the car. Dean and Sam sighed and followed her.

Emily and Sam hadn’t said a word to each other in days. Not more than basic living required. Emily had been avoiding every interaction with him at the cost of doing twice the work. Asking Sam to pass the milk? She’d rather stand up and walk to the milk herself. So, when they settled in Iowa and walked to the hospital archives, Emily sat two tables away from Sam and started to collect names of all kids that fit the criteria of turning six months old soon. She heard the sound of an office chair approaching her and rolled her eyes.

“How’s it going?” asked Sam.

“Slow,” she answered, not taking her eyes off the files.

“Can we talk?” Emily ignored him and stood up. She put away the files she was going to discard and took another pile. Sam followed her through the room. “You’re gonna have to talk to me at some point,” he said.

“No,” she said, walking back towards the desk. “Don’t you have work to do?” she asked, pointing to his pile of files. “I don't wanna be here all day.”

“How long will you do this for?” Sam asked.

“Until I say so.”

“Oh, come on,” Sam sighed. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I-”

“Work. Files.” she spelled. Sam sighed again and went back to his desk.

They were walking back to the car. Emily was a few steps ahead of Sam in a useless attempt to keep him from trying to apologize again. She was trying her best to tune out his voice as he vomited a lot of useless words, but it was hard to do when he wouldn't stay more than a few steps behind her. He was right in the middle of saying “I know I fucked up” when he stopped and groaned. Emily took a couple more steps, then turned. Sam started clutching his head in pain.

“Are you okay?” she asked, frowning.

“Yeah- Yeah I’m fine.” Emily crossed her arms as Sam’s pain didn’t stop. He leaned against a bench and sat down.

“And it shows,” she said, earning herself a scowl while also gesturing at her to say he was fine. A few seconds later, eyes still tightened for the pain, Sam took a map from his pocket and looked at it.

“We have to go,” he said, standing up. Emiky frowned. “I saw something.” Emily raised her eyebrows and followed Sam towards the car.

“What?”

“We need to go there now.” Emily sat in the Impala next to Sam, waiting for an explanation.

“Okay, sergeant,” she mocked. He sounded exactly like John the day they'd fought. Maybe it was genetic. Sam looked at her for a second as he started the car. He frowned, then stopped mid key-turn. Emily raised her eyebrows.

“I- I- I saw a man with yellow eyes and- a woman dying,” he explained.

“What?” Emily asked, confused.

“And a baby.” Yellow eyes, a woman dying. And a baby. That sounded a little too close to her nightmare.

“You’re kidding, right?” Emily asked. He shook his head and merged into the road. “Sam- That’s the dream I had this morning.” Sam swallowed. I’m gonna go ahead and assume it’s not a good thing she thought to herself.

“No-” said Sam. “No, it’s not a good thing.”

“What?” Emily turned.

“I said it’s not a good thing.”

“Yeah-” said Emily. “I heard that. But why? I haven’t said anything.”

“Oh.” Sam frowned. “You sure you weren’t thinking out loud?”

“Maybe,” Emily sighed and took her phone out. “I’m gonna call Dean.”

John was anything but happy to hear the news about Sam’s dreams. He paced back and forth in the room, while Emily was filling a cup with water.

“When were you planning on telling me about this?” John asked. Emily turned, frowning. The water she was putting in a glass for Sam kept running out of the tap, and overflowed. Dean reached for the sink and closed the water. Sam released a weak groan of pain and Emily handed him the glass. She was still mad at him: she was just following John's orders. John looked at the siblings one by one, waiting for an explanation.

“We did not know what it meant,” said Dean. He looked at Emily. “Are you sure it was the same house?” John rolled his eyes and Emily did her best to ignore him.

“Same house, same baby.” Dean brushed his face with his hands and sat down on the bed.

“Alright-” John sighed. “Things like this start happening, you pick up the phone and you call me,” said John. Emily’s blood seemed to boil for a split second.

“You’re joking, right?” she snapped. Dean gestured at her to wait and  pushed away from the sink.

“Dad, I called you from Lawrence- all right?” he said. “Sam called you when I was dying. I called you when Emily was in the hospital- I got a better chance of winning the lottery than getting you on the phone.” Emily crossed her arms. John nodded.

“You’re right,” he said. “Although I’m not too crazy about this new tone of yours-” Emily scoffed.

“Jesus Christ- Shut the fuck up about the damn tone!” Dean and Sam turned towards her, a hint of shock in their features. “I lost count of the times we fucking called you! Dean once made me use my entire pool win to try and call you! Twenty bucks- gone! In fucking quarters!” John straightened on the bed and put his hand on his waist.

“Emily-”

“You don’t get to tell us we should have called, because we did!” she yelled. “You just ignored us!”

“I didn’t answer for a reason- I was trying to keep you safe!” said John. Emily rolled her eyes.

“How?! We were on the job. I was on the job, which is probably the least safe thing on earth-”

“You’re supposed to be able to look after yourself, you’re-”

“Not old enough to carry a gun, for Christ’s sake! I- I can’t even buy tickets to a horror movie!”

“Can we talk about this another time?!” Dean said, stepping in the middle of Emily and her father. She was about to speak, but Sam did first.

“Dean’s right.” Emily rolled her eyes. So much for backing her up. “The demon is coming tonight. And this family's gonna go through the same hell we went through.”

“No, they're not. No one is, ever again,” said John. Emily crossed her arms. Sam’s phone rang. Emily was just about to start arguing with her dad when- after a second of pondering- Sam recognized the caller and mentioned her by name. It was Meg. Emily looked at Sam and frowned. With everyone’s attention now on Sam, Dean took the opportunity to lean back on the sink, facing away from John.

“Don’t start again with your bullshit,” he said in a whisper. Emily’s eyes widened. “Look, I say this out of experience, alright? Fighting with dad? Never a good idea.”

“Why?”

“Because he will never let you win.” Sam handed the phone to John. “It can only end two ways, you either get kicked out until he's sober again, or you get slapped.”

“How about you grow a pair?” she asked. “You can't let him walk all over you forever!”

“Look- you think Sam didn’t try? He tried so hard he left. He went to Stanford. You know why? Because dad’s never going to let you win.” Emily rolled her eyes and walked away. She sat just outside the motel room to smoke a cigarette. Dean appeared next to her a few minutes later.

“Come back in,” he said. Emily stood up and walked back in the room. She saw John was packing.

“Where are we going?” she asked. John turned towards her.

“You’re staying here. I’m going to buy us some time while your brothers kill the demon. Tonight.” Emily blinked twice, trying to process John’s words. Not only he was going to leave again, he was also telling her she was benched. Again. He closed his bag. “Dean, a word.” John and Dean left the room and Sam and Emily remained alone.

“I can't believe this,” she complained. “Is he really going to bench me? Isn't this like- the whole reason we're hunters?” Sam looked at her. “And I don't even get to be there?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Sorry, I- I should have backed you up with dad,” he said. Emily sighed. “Look, I-”

“Sam, drop it okay? It's fine, I don't wanna think about that right now,” she said. Sam smirked. “Dad's gon- What?”

“You just said ‘wanna’ instead of ‘want to’,” he said.

“No I didn't,” she said, frowning. Sam nodded. “No, Sam, I- And why is it a big deal? I'm sure I've done it before!”

“Nah,” Sam said. “Dude, you're a changed person,”

“Because I abbreviated a modal verb and a particle?”

“No, because when I met you you would use words like ‘extramarital affair’ and you wouldn't even use swear words, and now it's… well it's different.”

“Yeah, I'm adapting to a different sub-culture, it's a normal thing to do!”

“Sure, you know what's not normal?” Sam said with a laugh. “Calling it ‘adapting to the a sub-culture!”

“Okay,” Emily shook her head and smiled. “Now you're just trying to make fun of me.” She turned back to her bag to get a change of clothes. “But seriously, is he going to-” Dean came back into the room, alone.

“What did dad say?” asked Emily.

“So, uhm-” he hesitated and looked into his inside pocket. “He gave me the Colt.” He took it out of the pocket halfway, just enough that Emily and Sam could see it. “We only have four bullets. Without them it’s just a regular gun.” Emily crossed her arms. “He also-” he sighed. “Well, he said I should leave you home,” Dean pointed to Emily.

“How's that okay?!” she yelled. “I want to be part of this, okay? That b-”

“Emily, you're coming with us,” Dean said. Emily stopped talking. “I don't know why dad thinks you're not ready, but I think he's wrong.” Emily swallowed. So he… thought she was ready? Did Dean Winchester just… subtly tell her she was a good hunter? No way. “And we could use a third pair of eyes, it's gonna be a rough night.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I mean, what if I-”

“Pack your stuff,” he said. “We need to leave.”

The siblings stumbled out of the car and ran towards the house. They broke in, but were intercepted by Monica’s husband. He attacked Dean and Sam, but Emily was quick enough^[c] to get through them, in the living room and up the stairs. She heard her brothers argue with the man, who was calling for his wife. Emily tried to stop her, but the woman fought her away and ran towards the nursery, almost throwing Emily down the stairs. She cling into the rails with all her strength and ran up to the top of the stair. She stepped in front of the first door and saw it. The demon was standing in front of the crib, just like in her dream.

“Dean!” She turned towards his brother, who was holding the husband back. He managed to get rid of the man just long enough to try to run up the stairs, but got attacked again. Sam dragged the man away from Dean, and then something happened that took Emily by surprise. Her brother put a hand in his pocket, took out the Colt and tossed it to her. No, no, no, don't do that, dad’s gonna fucking kill me if something goes wrong, she thought. She looked at Dean. There was no way he really did that. That was the worst moment possible to trust her for what was probably the first time.

“Go!” Dean yelled, trying to hold back the husband. She had one shot. Her hand slipped on the safety trigger twice before she was able to grip it and point towards the man. Come on, come on, you're a good shot, right? Even John said you are. And to say she had shot chess pieces with Bobby Singer just a few months before. Where was that confidence? Don't fuck it up, Emily. She made sure she was aiming for the head and fired. The bullet flew towards the demon, but as soon as it was supposed to hit, he disappeared into smoke. It took a couple of seconds to realize that she missed. Fuck.

She missed. That was probably the last time Dean was going to trust her with something, because John was going to kill her. She froze in place as Sam pushed past her and grabbed the newborn from the crib, flames starting to consume the room. She heard Dean call her name, but she didn’t move. She stared at the point where the demon had vanished. How did she miss it? He was standing right there. He wasn't a moving target, he wasn't even a small target. Her breath started to grow shorter as the sound of flames reached her ears. Dean grabbed her by the arm and shoved her towards the exit. She had just about made it outside that something in the house exploded. Dean was next to her, handing the baby back to her mother. Emily stared at the house burning down.

The sound of the sirens outside weren’t enough to make Emily move.  She was dead. Her mother was dead. And Alex had stopped crying.

“Hey!” called a voice. “Can you get through here?” Emily managed to look away from her mother’s body. A firefighter was trying to help her through the half-collapsed door. “Come on, there’s no time to lose! Give me the baby.” Emily looked at the firefighter better. It was him. It was Yellow Eyes. “Climb through the door,” he said. “It’s fine, the flames won’t burn you.” Emily took a step forward. She felt the heat of the flames closing in on her. “Don’t be afraid, you’ve got nothing to lose. You missed your shot, kid. They’re not going to forgive you. None of them.”

Emily felt a hand wrapping her chest and dragging her back.

“Emily, what are you doing?!” She turned. It was Dean. She didn't answer. She knew what she had to say, but she didn't want to. He was gonna get mad. And he was gonna tell John. And if in any other occasions she would not have cared, that time, she did. She wasn't going to come back from missing a shot against the demon. She looked up at the nursery window and saw a man standing in the fire. He smiled at her. Emily looked at the gun she was still holding. Maybe she had another shot. Emily tried to push through Dean’s grasp, but failed.

“Dean, no- Let me go back in there!”

“Emily, it’s too late!” Dean dragged her back a few more feet and she fell on the pavement knees first. “It’s over. Give me the gun.” Emily swallowed the knot in her throat and gave him the Colt. Dean looked at Sam. “She missed the shot,” he said. Sam put his hands on his waist and looked at Dean. Emily stood up, feeling the skin on her knees burn, and looked at Sam.

“What happened?” he asked. She shook her head. She didn't know. She knew she missed, she didn't know how. Maybe she wasn't as good of a shot as she thought she was. Sam and Dean moved a few feet away to argue. Emily couldn't hear it for the most part, her ears were ringing and her brain was way too full of shit to process anything around her. So she stood there, sinking into her new reality. She was, and she was always going to be, the one that let the demon go. The one who missed the shot. Only one phrase came through to her from Sam and Dean's conversation, and it was from Sam:

“This is why dad wanted her to stay at the motel.”

Those words snapped Emily out of the panic she was feeling and back to reality. The reality where, sure, she was The One Who Missed The Shot. But she was also angry, frustrated and full of adrenaline. The image of her, bashing Sam’s head on the window became so real she had to blink to double check it wasn’t happening. But all she could think about was hurting him. Her body moved on its own. She walked past Dean and tried to push Sam to the ground. But her arms were too shaky, her body too overwhelmed to succeed. So she punched him. It was the most pathetic punch she'd thrown in her entire life. It recoiled in her entire body, and Sam barely reacted. Dean was quick to stop her, and didn't have to use force. Emily felt limp. Her legs were shaking, her arms felt disconnected from her body, and her face was tingling.  

“Something's seriously wrong with you,” Sam hissed, touching his face. She tried to take a step forward, but Dean held her back.

“Will you stop?” he asked. Emily wasn't sure if he was talking to her. But the answer was no. She tried to move towards Sam again. “Okay, you know what?” he said, wrapping his fingers around her arm and dragging her towards the car. “I am so sick of this,” he whispered. “Just one day, one day where everything goes right, that's all I ask.”

The moment Emily sat in the car, she felt the adrenaline wash off and her eyes filling with tears.

“Can you not?” Dean asked, starting the engine. “I don't really have time for you to play the victim right now, okay? Get it together.” Emily dried her face and held her breath. Dean merged into the road. Emily didn't say a word. She had no idea where they were going, and she didn't care. It was like her mind had gone blank and she’d lost the ability to survive. Her breath was cut off by a panic attack, which was also responsible for the full-body tingling. Her arms didn't feel hers and she wasn't sure she still had cheeks. She touched them. Her hands were shaking. Her face was hot. Really hot. She sniffled and the car started going faster. The longer she held the tears back, the worse it was. She leaned forward, putting her head on the dashboard. She tried punching it. She had no strength left in her arms. Dean drove for half an hour in complete silence, and in that half an hour, Emily never stopped crying. She just tried to keep it down. The car stopped and Dean told her to wait there, but she recognised the cars in Bobby Singer's salvage yard.

        She tried to act like nothing happened: she stepped in, walked past Dean and Bobby and upstairs to the room she’d always stayed in. She stripped away her sweaty clothes and took clean ones. Her mind blacked out for several minutes as she stared at the clean clothes, in nothing but her underwear. When she regained enough awareness to realize she was sitting on her bed doing nothing, she tried to wear the clothes she was holding, but her hands were too shaky, too weak. The clothes fell. She tried to reach for them but when she leaned forward, she almost fell, getting dizzy. She sat down on the bed and reached for the clothes. She tried to separate the two layers of fabric, but she could not get her hands to be steady enough. That was when Dean entered the room.

“What are you doing?” he asked. Emily ignored him and tried to wear the t-shirt again. When she couldn’t, she threw it across the room.

“I CAN'T GET TO WEAR THIS FUCKING T-SHIRT!” she screamed. She bent her chest over her knees and kept crying. Dean sighed.

“Alright, come here.” Emily didn’t answer him. “Emily, come here!” he said. Emily looked at him and stood up. He was about to talk when a wave of nausea overwhelmed her. She rushed in the corner of the room and threw up in the trash can next to him. Dean got out a toilet paper roll from somewhere and offered it to her. She cleaned her face and stood back up. She was about to go back on the bed, but Dean stopped her right in front of him. She looked at the floor, her breath growing shorter and shorter. “Alright you know what-” Dean grabbed her forearm and dragged her to the bathroom. He forced her to step in the shower. Without saying anything, he turned on the water and set it on the coldest setting possible.

Emily tried not to scream when the ice-cold water touched her skin, and she tried to move away from it, but Dean kept her in place. A few seconds into the absolute torture a frozen shower was, she realized the cold water was giving her the ability to breathe back. She wasn’t crying anymore.

“Better?” asked Dean, crossing his arms. Emily looked at him, shaking, but for the cold. She didn't answer. “You’re fucking welcome,” said Dean. “Stay under the water.” He turned towards the sink and took out some disinfectant. “Give me your arm.” Emily sniffed and extended her right arm. Dean looked at her and raised his eyebrows. With a roll of her eyes, Emily extended her left arm. Dean looked at the cuts. “I swear to God, Emily- What are you using? This is getting infected.” Emily didn’t answer. When Dean touched her cuts with the disinfectant, she tried to move her arm away. Dean didn’t let her. He didn’t even seem to notice or care about the fact it stung like a bitch. He turned off the water and threw her a towel. “Go get changed.” Okay, no need to be a dick about it.

Emily entered her room and discarded her soaked underwear, she wore clean, dry one and put on the old t-shirt which was still laying in the corner of the room. She opened the door and Dean entered holding a roll of gauze.

“Dean, what-” Dean didn’t say anything, he forced her to sit on the bed and covered her arm in gauze. “What are you doing?!” she asked. Dean didn't seem to care enough to answer.

“Bobby said you can stay as long as you want. I don’t know what you did but the man really likes you.”

“What? You’re just going to drop me here until dad cools off?” Emily crossed her arms and fell back on the bed.

“No, I-” Dean stood up. “Look, I won’t tell dad you’re the one who took the shot because if I do we won’t ever hear the end of it,” he said. “I’ll tell him it was Sam.”

“Good, give them more reasons to fucking hate me.” Emily rolled her eyes and laid down on the bed. She felt her eyes heave down.

“You tired?” asked Dean. Emily rolled her eyes.  

“Dean, just leave,” she said.

“Sleep,” he answered. Emily took a deep breath, her chest still tense. “I’ll come to pick you up after this deal is over,” She nodded. Not because she liked it or because she agreed, but because she knew she was not in any position to complain. Also she wanted him to leave. She wanted everyone to leave. Before he left, Dean reached into Emily’s overalls, which she had discarded in a corner of the room. He took her gun and put it in his pants. Emily frowned. “I’ll take this.”

The first day, she slept. She had not had the chance to sleep longer than three hours a night in weeks. When she opened her eyes and found herself alone, her mind was still foggy. It didn't occur to her why she was able to sleep that long or why she was alone. She didn't question it, it was just a fact. Her body urged her to rest more. And she was happy to listen.

        The second day was when she realized. Emily opened her eyes and it came to her that she was in the middle of something. Demon. Colt. Yellow-eyes, still alive. She was The One Who Missed. She had one shot at killing Azazel and putting an end to all the suffering that he had brought, and she missed. And then she punched Sam. Dean had given her a shred of trust, and she had taken it and thrown it out the window.         

The third day, she got out of her room. Bobby greeted her with half a smile, a pat on the shoulder and a lunch based on canned spaghetti that was burned, but somehow still cold. She ate her meal and then stared at her phone. She had the sensation she had a horrible nightmare she could not remember and something was telling her that she should check on her brothers. It had been happening often and Emily was almost sure they were visions, she just couldn’t remember them. Her phone started ringing, showing Sam's name.

“Hello?” she said. Yeah. Visions.

“Emily, something happened,” said Sam. He sounded like he had been crying. “You- uh- you should get to the hospital.”

She entered the hospital running, ignoring all the nurses who told her not to, trying to stop her to ask where she was going. She didn't need directions, she knew how hospitals worked.  She wandered in the corridors until she recognized Sam’s jacket. As she approached him, she noticed his face was covered in cuts and his right eye was swollen. She slowed down her pace as he noticed her and started walking in her direction.

Last time she saw him, she was mad at him. But the prospect of a car crash killing her entire family brought her fight with Sam to the bottom of her priorities.

“Emily, I’m sorry, I-” Sam stopped her from going any further in the hallway, preventing her from seeing inside the room.

“How- Sam, what happened?”

“Dad was possessed, there- there was a fight, I-” Emily tried to go past him but he resisted. “Emily, wait-”

“Sam, let me go-” she said. “Is D- Are they okay?” Emily’s eyes filled with tears and Sam lightened his hold on her shoulders.

“Dad’s awake, the doctor just told me- he’s going to be okay.”

“What about Dean?” Sam looked away. No, no, no, come on, not again. “Sam-”

“He…” Sam hesitated, and Emily had the feeling it was worst case scenario. “He hasn’t woken up yet. We’ll have to wait.”

“Miss Reed, you should not be here!” said the nurse, entering Alex’s room. Emily rolled her eyes.

“Give me a break, Tina, my brother is dying.”

“It’s nurse Tina to you and no, I can’t give you a break! You need to go to your room to get your hands medicated,” said the nurse.  

“Can’t you do it here?”

“Miss Reed, you know I can’t, now come.” The nurse tried to push her wheelchair away. Emily stopped her.

“Can you at least tell me if he’s going to be okay?”

“I’m sorry, honey, we’ll have to wait.”

“...about it.” Sam’s words sounded like he was in another room. When Alex was dying, the doctors had said Emily the exact same phrase:

“We’ll have to wait,” she said, enveloped in her memories.  “Yeah, I know the deal.”

“What?” asked Sam. Emily looked at him. “Did you hear what I said?” Emily shook her head. “I said we should probably go see dad, maybe he knows-” Sam sighed. “Maybe he knows what to do.” Emily hesitated. John had the ability of ruining everything when things were good, what was he going to do when things were already fucked up? “Come on, it's gonna be fine.” Emily let Sam lead her to their father’s room. She walked in front of Dean’s room and froze. There was no one else in the room. Just Dean, laying still on the hospital bed. Emily could hear the sound of every single machine keeping him alive. Dean was going to die. The doctors knew it. If they didn't, they would be in there. It was the same thing that happened to Alex. “We’re gonna figure something out,” said Sam, who had stopped a couple of steps ahead of Emily. Sam waited a second, but when Emily didn’t move, he spoke again. “Look, I- I’ll go talk to dad, okay?” he said. Emily used her hands to dry the tears that were trying to escape her control. It was happening again. People talking to her like she was five, being nice, all because her brother was dying. Sam entered the room next to Dean’s and Emily remained by herself.

        Emily had been in the hospital with Alex for three days. She was getting better, her hands were healing, but Alex wasn’t. Alex could not breathe on his own anymore and he was getting weaker and weaker by the hour.

 “Emily, are you here again? You know you’re not supposed to enter this room,” said Nurse Tina.

“I’m sorry Tina,” Emily sighed. “But he’s dying, what difference does it make?”

“About that…” The nurse touched her shoulder. “He’s not making any progress, are you- are you sure there's nobody we can call?”

“No, ” said Emily. “But he might wake up, right?”

“Emily, the only thing keeping him alive are the machines. I’m so sorry, darling.”

“But he- he might still wake up, right?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Fucking asshole,” she said to Dean’s body. “Of course you had to die after being a half decent brother for three whole seconds.” With a shiver, Emily realized she had been talking to herself: Dean could not hear her, let alone understand her. Sam walked through the room and stopped on the other side of Dean’s bed. She avoided looking at him and sat on a chair next to the bed.

“Emily, look, I’m sorry I-”

“It’s fine, I- It doesn’t really matter right now,” she said. Emily sat on the chair next to Dean’s bed and brought her knees up to her face.

“I shouldn't have said those things, okay? I was mad, and I was-”

“I said it's fine!” she yelled. “Jesus, Samuel, move on!” Sam sighed and leaned on the window. Emily brought her knees to her chest and took a deep breath. Sam didn't speak for a while. Emily stared at a cabinet on the other end of the room.

“Tina, I’m sure, he- he closed his hand on my finger!” she cried. “That means hope, right? There’s still hope?”

“Honey, that’s just… an automatic body reflex. He-”

“No, no, I’m sure, Tina, Alex will be fine, you- just wait a little more.”

“His body functions haven’t been autonomous for days, his brain, it’s… it’s dead, Emily. He’s gone.”

“Tina, no, I’m n-I’m not ready, he can’t be dead!”

“I’m sorry, darling. You should hold him while you can. I can buy you one more day with the doctors, not more.”

“Can I ask you something?” Sam said. Emily nodded, not looking at him. “Were you in the hospital with your brother?” he asked. Emily dragged a hand through her face.

“Yeah, I- I was, we- we didn't have anybody else, so…”

“Didn't they call CPS?” he asked. “I mean, you were thirteen.”

“They did,” she answered. “But there was a nurse, she… she kept me as a patient so that I didn't have to leave Alex alone,” Sam didn't say anything. Emily turned towards him. “And then the police, they- they gave me my stuff from my house and that's how I found out about John,”

“So you… what? You ran?” Sam frowned.

“Yup.” she admitted. “I lasted exactly three days in foster care and then I disappeared.” Sam smiled. “How's dad?”

“ He… asked about you,” Sam said. “I told him you weren't here yet.”

“I should go talk with him, right?” she asked. “I drive like a maniac and he knows.” Sam huffed.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, you better go.”

She walked to John’s room, and knocked on the open door to announce her presence.

“Hey, Emily, you made it.” He smiled. She nodded. “You must be tired.”

“I'll be fine,” she said, not sure if it was a lie or not. “Dad, Dean… he’s-”

“I know,” he said, sitting a little bit straighter. “Listen, I’ve had a chat with your brothers and they told me- They told me things got rough between you and them lately,” he continued. Emily closed the door.

“It’s been… kind of difficult, yeah.” She crossed her arms.

“You know how I feel about it. It makes hunting more difficult.” John said. Emily raised her eyebrows. “We had to wait for Dean for hours because of you.” Emily looked at him. There wasn’t a single ounce of pity for her. He didn’t care that she wasn't okay, or if she broke down like a porcelain. The only thing he cared about was his mission.

“Wow,” she exhaled. With her index fingers she traced the corner of her eyes and then pinched her nose. “Dad, I’m sorry my weak-ass brain is making your mission more difficult, but like- Dean had to cold-shock me because I couldn’t breath.”

“You’ve been hunting for three years now, I would have expected you to have developed some strength of mind,” said John. He was getting more nervous, Emily could tell. And she could feel her own rage climb back up. She wrapped her hands around the bed railing, her knuckles whitening.

“Dad, this is not about hunting,” she tried to explain. “It’s about your damn sons who keep going out of their way to make me go crazy.”

“It’s your brothers you’re talking about, you sh-”

“I what?” Emily scoffed. “Dad, I get it: you are all strong and cold in the face of adversity, but- I’m not! And family is supposed to be there to help you through that stuff! Instead, you just- what? Get drunk? Complain?” John sighed and rolled his eyes.

“If you-” he tried to say, but Emily still has something to say.

“Is this your idea of being a family?” she asked. John’s eyes tightened, he was getting nervous.

“I told you thousands of times, you-”

“That I can’t afford to have any emotions?” she asked, eyes filling with tears. “Dad, it doesn’t work like that!”  

“It should, by now.”

“Alright, you know what?” Emily backed out of John’s room. “My bad, shouldn’t have tried to have a conversation with you.” Without waiting for an answer, she left the room and saw Sam about to leave Dean’s room. His attention was caught by Emily sniffling.

“You okay?” he asked. Emily rolled her eyes and didn't answer. She dried her face. “Look, I- I… need to go grab some stuff for dad, you wanna tag along?” Emily looked inside Dean's room, hesitating.  

“Okay,” she whispered. Sam put a hand on her shoulder and walked past her towards the elevator. “What does dad need?”

“Acacia, oil of Abramelin and a bunch of candles,” Sam said, reading from a list. He frowned. Emily looked at him, confused, trying to take a peek at the notes. He lowered the piece of paper for her to see. “You ever read anything like that?”  

“Yeah,” she said. That was a summoning spell. She remembered reading it from one of Bobby Singer's books. Or maybe it wasn't? Maybe she was getting confused? “Did he say what it's for?” Sam shook his head.

“What is it?”

“I-” Emily hesitated. Maybe she was wrong. There was no point in starting a fight over it. “I don't remember.” Sam raised his eyebrows. “Maybe we can run it by Bobby?”

The Impala sat in Bobby’s salvage lot, its right side caved in, glasses shattered on the seats and some random pieces scattered around the ground.  Bobby walked behind her. Emily looked at it while walking towards the garage, looking for Bobby.

“You were lucky you weren’t in there,” he said. Emily turned. “It was a rough one,” Emily sighed. “Sam said you were gonna come by. Supplies, right?” She nodded. “Go on and grab whatever you need, sweetheart,” Bobby said. “Call me if you can't find something.” Emily walked inside, followed by Sam. Before she went to grab the supplies, she walked to one of Bobby's many bookshelves.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked. “We don't have time to get you a book to read,” he said. Emily ignored him and went on the tip of her toes to grab a book from the top shelf. That was the book with the spell. “Emily!” She opened the book and walked towards him, looking through the pages.

“Look,” she said, showing Sam the book. “It's a summoning spell.”

“Are you sure?” Sam asked. “I mean, it could just be the same ingredients.” Emily looked at him: there was no way he really believed that. “You don't think he…”

“Yup,” Emily said. “Jesus fucking Christ.” Bobby walked in the room.

“You kids okay?” he asked. “You seem worried.” Emily looked at Sam and closed the book before Bobby could see what she was reading.

“Yeah, we-” Emily hesitated.

“Our dad called and said he didn't need the supplies after all,” Sam said. The speed at which he'd be able to cook a lie always caught Emily by surprise. Bobby looked at her and she was quick at nodding. “We were just about to leave.”

Emily rushed inside John’s room, Sam following her a few steps behind. The drive back from Bobby was quiet, tense, they knew what was about to happen. They knew they were about to bring a lot of shit on John and that he wasn’t going to like it.

“What the hell is-”  “Do you seriously think-” “-wrong with you?” “-we’re that stupid?” Sam’s and Emily's voices overlapped as John raised from his bed and sat up. Emily looked at Sam and remained silent, waiting for him to talk, but he didn't.

“It wasn’t a protection spell!” she yelled. Sam did the same. Emily looked at him again. Okay, what the hell?

“I have a plan,” John answered, way calmer than it was due. Emily scoffed.

“What plan?” she asked. “Bringing the demon here for a dick-measuring contest!?”

“Dad, Dean is dying! And you have a plan? How can you even be thinking…” he trailed off with a scoff. Emily crossed her arms. Maybe he was into something when he said she should have backed him up. It was way easier to face John if she was alone. “So that’s it, uh? You care more about killing this demon than you do saving your son?” John’s eyes tightened. He looked at Sam for a few seconds, no answer coming out of his mouth, which made Emily’s blood boil. Jesus Christ, he was thinking of an excuse. Really?

“I’m doing this for him,” he said. Emily scoffed, a nervous laugh leaving her body and earning her a scowl from her father. “Something funny?”

“You’re obsessed,” she said. “That’s all it is, you’re obsessed.” John shook his head. It never ceased to make her feel like a disappointment, but at that point it didn't matter much.

“You know, it's funny, I thought it was your obsession too!” John said, pointing to the siblings. “This demon killed your mothers, killed your girlfriend and your brother. You.” He pointed at Sam. “You begged me to be part of this hunt and you, Emily, should at least be grateful I didn’t leave you sleeping under a bridge. Now if Sam'd killed that damn thing when you had the chance, none of this would have happened.” Emily and Sam looked at each other for a moment. She looked down at the floor. He was taking heat for something she’d done, something she’d messed up, just because Dean wanted it that way. She took a deep breath. Dean was dying, so it didn’t matter anymore.

“Emily, don't,” Sam said. Emily ignored him. Why did it matter? John thought she was a failure either way.

“I missed the shot,” she said. Sam closed his eyes and pinched his nose. John didn't react.

“No, I-”

“Come on, Samuel,” she continued. “Are you seriously going to take the blame on that?” Sam looked away. “And no, I am not grateful,” she said. “What do I have to be grateful for?” John shook his head again.

“I knew I shouldn’t have taken you along in the first place,” he said. “I knew it was a mistake, I knew I was wrong to trust your mom.” Emily looked at him, blood boiling in her veins.

“You know what?” she said. Sam put a hand on her shoulder. He somehow knew something horrible was about to leave her mouth. Just as she was about to continue, the glass that John had placed on his side table shattered to the ground, splashing water everywhere. Either of them had the time to question how, because the sounds of alarms coming from Dean’s rooms grabbed their attention. Emily rushed out of the room just in time to see doctors and nurses run into Dean’s room.

“I’m sorry, darling. You should hold him while you can. I can buy you one more day with the doctors, not more.”

It looked like she wasn’t going to get an extra day with Dean. John knew what to do. He always knew. But he wouldn’t do it on account of wanting revenge instead. But revenge was not going to keep Dean alive or bring back her mom. Emily turned around and Sam was standing next to her.

“Sam,” she whispered. She could hear the doctors talk, she could hear Dean’s heartbeat not coming back.

“I know,” Sam answered. For a moment, she also could have sworn she’d heard Dean's voice curse something. But of course, that wasn't possible: Dean was- What the hell was she thinking about. It may just as well have been real. Ghosts were real. She heard their voices several times. So, did that mean- Then, a moment of quiet, and Dean’s heartbeat back on the monitor. Emily looked at Sam. Maybe he'd heard it too.

“Sam,” Emily repeated. “Sam we gotta go.” Emily walked a couple of steps, Sam following her closely.

“You heard that, right?” Sam asked. “You heard Dean’s voice.”

“Yup.”

Emily sat in the car and opened John’s journal. Sam opened the city map and looked through it with his finger.

“You’re not gonna find anything there,” said Sam,  starting the car. “I already looked.”

“Maybe you missed something,” she said. Sam shook his head. Emily took the coffee from the back of the car and slammed the journal close, letting her head hit the seat behind her.

“Look, the shop’s not far from here,” Sam said. “We get the Ouija board, get back, and hope we can talk to Dean.”

“Have you done this before?” Emily asked. Sam shook his head. “So… what if it doesn't work?”

“It will,” Sam said. “I think.”

They set up the board and Emily sat by Sam’s side as he did the talking: they were right, Dean was there. And he was chased by a reaper.

“Emily, we need to speak with dad,” said Sam. Emily crossed her arms.

“We don't need his help,” she said with a sigh. Sam looked away and bit the inside of his cheek.

“We need an expert,” he answered. Emily sighed again. Fuck, he was right. Emily nodded followed him out of Dean’s room and to John’s. It didn't matter that Sam was right, because John wasn't in his room.

“...and of course he’s gone,” she groaned. “Jesus Christ, of course-” Emily closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I- Okay. You know what?” she said. “We’re hunters. We can figure out how to fight a reaper.” Sam looked at her and raised his eyebrows. “So does… uh-” she hesitated. “Does dad journal say anything?” Sam huffed and took the journal out. He flicked through it until he found a page on reapers.

“It doesn’t,” he sighed.

“So what now?”

“Emily, you’ve been holding Alex for hours. He’s gone. You need to let go.”

“NO! HE’S MY BROTHER, I-”

“Emily, be strong. Everything will be okay.”

“Tina, please, just- if you just give me five more minutes, he will wake up, Tina, I-”

Emily sat in the hallway, trying to rest her eyes for just a second. As if it could have helped with everything that was going on. She'd called Bobby, he'd said he'd look into it, but not to expect much. The urge of hurting herself was growing stronger, it was her fault Dean was dying, but she knew it wasn’t the time nor the place to act on it. So she needed to stop. Somehow. Sam sat next to her.

“I got ya something to eat,” he said. Emily smiled and took the burrito Sam was handing her. It looked empty. And soggy. She took a bite. It tasted sad. “You know none of this is your fault.” Emily looked away.

“Sam, it is,” she said, taking a bite out of her wrap. “Dean drove all night for me. He- He must have been exhausted when he arrived back to you. He wasn’t at his best and it’s my fault.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Sam insisted. “You’re a good shot. Everyone knows that.”  

“It doesn’t matter,” Emily said. “I’ve been hunting for two years, I should know how to handle my feelings or- or you know, whatever.” Sam crossed his arms.

“Is that what dad said?” he asked. Emily sighed.

“Yeah,” she said. Sam raised his eyebrows. “I know…” Emily trailed off and looked down at her arms for a moment. “I’m fine, is what I’m trying to say.”

“You sure?” Sam asked.

“I am. Everything's under control.”

“Emily-”

“I said I’m fine!” she yelled. The nurses around them stopped to check what was happening but quickly resumed their work. Emily started moving her leg up and down, nervous, while staring at Dean’s body.

“Do you want some?” She moved the burrito towards Sam. He shook his head.

“No, it's okay. I'm not hungry,” he said. Emily frowned.

“Dude, you’ve been here twenty four hours and all you've had is coffee,” she complained. “Just take a bite.”

“Really, I'm fine.” Emily sighed and closed the foil around the burrito, trying to remember the last time she saw Sam eat. Had she? Ever?

“Sam, when-” was all she could say before Sam talked again.

“This morning,” he said, looking away. Emily frowned. “Really, I’m fine.” Yeah, he wasn’t. Emily looked at him. Then at Dean. Then down at her arms. She couldn’t take another set of problems.

“Alright, so we’re both fine,” she said. “Let’s just agree on that,” Sam stood back up.

“Why don’t we take a walk?” he asked. “Take our minds off of things.” Emily sighed and looked at Dean’s body.

“Alright,” she said. She stood up and started walking with Sam. “You son of a bitch better be still alive when I come back, okay?” She said to Dean’s body before passing his room. Sam smiled.

“Hey, that’s my mom you’re talking about.”

“Bite me, Samuel.” She pushed him with a smile and kept walking. He went after her and pretended to bite her arm. For ten seconds, Emily forgot about everything happening and she ran from Sam who was trying to bite her. The second the elevator door closed, reality fell back on her with a good dose of guilt.

“I heard the cafeteria has very decent iced coffee,” said Sam, also serious.

“Whatever they have, it’s fine,” she whispered and pressed the button.

“So- uhm- sorry about- about what I said that night,” said Sam. “I know you said it doesn't matter, but I honestly feel like shit.” Emily stared in front of her, her hands in her overalls’ pockets. “I- I kinda feel like it's my fault if you broke down like that.”

“Don't take too much credit,” said Emily. “Things were bad even before we picked you up from Stanford. Things have always been bad.”

“Had anything like that happened before? Dean told me-” Emily rolled her eyes.

“Look- It's fine. It's in the past. I can handle another Winchester being an asshole.”

“I-”

“I thought you said you wanted to take your mind off things.” The elevator doors opened and Emily walked off. She entered the cafeteria and got two iced coffees. One for her, and one for Sam, who lagged a couple of steps behind her, silent.

They went back to Dean's floor, stepped out of the elevator and stopped right outside it's doors. Emily lowered the coffee cup and saw a doctor run inside of Dean's room. She rushed towards it, saw him sitting in his bed.

“Dean?!” She said, almost dropping her iced coffee.

“Emily?” Dean asked. “What are you doing here? I dropped you in South Dakota, didn't I?” he asked, confused.

“I- I drove here,” she said. Dean frowned. “What? I know how to drive!”

“Since when?” Sam asked, confused. Emily looked at her brothers.

“Since always, Bobby thought me,” she said. “Dude, what happened?” she asked Dean. “Are you-”

“Yeah, I- I’m fine,” he said. “Where’s dad?” he asked. Emily looked at Sam, a suspicion growing. He tightened his lips. “He's okay, right?”

“Yeah,” Emily said. “But he-” Someone knocked on the door. Emily’s smile vanished as she saw her dad walk in the room.

“Where the hell have you been?!” she asked. John sighed. He didn't seem upset by Emily's tone.

“I had some things to take care of.”

“Let me guess, you had to go get some supplies?” Emily asked.

“Come on, Emily,” Dean sighed. “Five minutes, okay? Just-”

“You shut up for once,” she yelled, raising a finger in his direction. “You went after the demon, didn’t you, John?!” Emily walked towards her father.

“I didn’t,” said John. “Can we not fight?” A moment of complete silence enveloped the room. Emily frowned and looked at Sam. Something was up. John Winchester would never let her speak to him that way. “You know, half the time we're fighting, you and Dean, me and Sam… I don't know what we're fighting about. We're just butting heads.” John said. “You know, I've made some mistakes. But I've always done the best I could. I just don't want to fight anymore, okay?” Emily turned towards Dean. His features were painted with worry. Yeah, something was seriously wrong.

“Dad, are you okay?” asked Dean.

“Yeah. Yeah,” he whispered. “I'm just a little tired. Hey, son, would you, uh, maybe you and Emily could get me a cup of caffeine? I’m sure a walk would help her.” Sam nodded, but Emily didn't move. Sam grabbed her overalls and rugged lightly, signaling her it was definitely time to go.

“Did he seem weird to you too?” he asked as soon as they'd walked out of earshot.

“Yeah,” Emily said. “Very weird.”

When he sees me

From Waitress

While she was dusting a bookshelf, she found a -most likely misplaced- cook book. There was one single bookmark, on a pie recipe. She smiled and made her way into the kitchen with the recipe in hand. It had been years since she last baked anything. Since she cooked actual food. Her mom was the queen of baking, she always baked something. Every weekend of Emily’s life, up until the day her mother died, she’d had some sort of baked goods in her house. While she measured and mixed, she heard Dean work on the Impala right behind the house and Sam’s keyboard clicking in the library. If it wasn’t for the circumstances that forced them to take a break at Bobby’s lot, she would have almost been relaxed by the sudden domesticity and normality. But John being dead was nothing to be happy about. She had a suspicion that his death had something to do with the demon, but nobody wanted to talk about it.

 “What the hell are you doing?” said Bobby as he entered the room. “Are you baking?” Emily shrugged.

“I don’t know, I- I guess I didn’t have anything better to do.” The man walked up to the cook book and raised his eyebrows.

“’m sure Dean would love this one,” he said. Emily extended her arm over the man to take a spoon, doing his best to ignore the not-so-subtle hint. “Maybe you can lure him out of that damn car.”

“Come on, Bobby, give him a break. His father is dead.” Bobby raised his eyebrows. He reached for a beer from the counter.

“You meant to say ‘our’ father, right?” Emily lifted her eyes off the bowl and scratched her nose, realizing the mistake. She felt some cake batter on her nose.

“Yeah. Sure.” Emily cleaned herself with the back of her hand and went back to mixing. Bobby huffed. “What?”

“Nothing-” he smiled. “Do you remember the first day John left you here?” he asked. Emily nodded.

“Yeah, you tried to shoot a rifle at us,” she said.

“I tried to shoot a rifle at him,” Bobby explained. “You're a kid, I wasn't gonna shoot ya.”

“I would hope so,” Emily said.

“Remember how you cleaned the table with a wet wipe before touching it?” Bobby asked. Emily chuckled.

“And that is the last time anybody has ever cleaned that table,” she said. Bobby shrugged. “Maybe I should have stayed here after high school,” she continued. “Seeing how things are going, it'd have been better for everyone.”

“Don't be stupid,” Bobby said. “You ain't done nothing wrong, okay sweetheart?” Emily ignored him. Bobby remained at the table behind her as she turned on the oven. “Apples are in the cabinet over there,” he said.

“I know,” Emily answered. “I lived here for almost a year, Bobby,” she smiled. “Don't worry.” Bobby sighed and finished his beer. He left the bottle on the sink next to Emily. “Trashcan,” she said. Bobby scowled at her. “Please.”

“Now, that's better,” he said, taking the bottle off the table. “You should ask Dean if he wants a slice.”

“I will,” she sighed. “But don't expect much, okay?”

Emily went out the door holding a paper plate with a slice of apple pie on it. After all, Bobby was right. Dean loved pie. Nothing wrong with bringing him some to taste. It could have been a peace offering after years of arguing over stuff that, given the state of things, didn't matter that much anymore. She walked around the house and arrived in the garage. Dean was lying under the Impala.

“I think you missed a spot,” said Emily. Dean rolled out of the car and looked at her, frowning. She pointed at the hood of the car, which was stripped away of his varnish. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Very funny,” he said. He sat up and dried his forehead. “Did you- Did you bake?” He pointed at the plate, dragging his hands on his mechanic overalls while standing up.

“Not much else to do,” she answered. Dean cleaned his hands on a towel and approached her. She gave him the plate. “And you know- since you’re the pie expert around here, I brought you some.” Dean frowned. “I promised it's not poisonous.” He looked at Emily for a second before taking the spoon and tasting the pie. He raised his eyebrows. Emily smiled and moved some tools away from a table, making space for the pie. Dean followed her every step. “What are you doing?” he asked. Emily looked at him, confused. “Did Sam put you up to this?” he walked closer to her, reaching for the pie with the spoon. “Bobby?”

“Are you asking me if Sam or Bobby asked me to bake a pie?”

“I don’t know- Did they?” Emily frowned and hesitated, confused.

“No…?” said Emily. “Why?” Dean and looked away. Emily was about to roll her eyes, complain, accuse him of always thinking she was up to something, but then decided not to. After all his faster- her- their father was dead. Starting a fight was a bad idea. “Look, just- eat it and tell me if it’s good,” she said. Emily walked away from the garage and stumbled into Sam just around the corner.

“Hey-” He said. “Is- Is Dean back there? I need to talk to him.” Emily nodded. “Did he-” Oh, here we go again, she thought, he wants to know about John. Dad. He wants to know about dad.

“I didn’t ask,” said Emily. Sam frowned. “I just brought him food, that's all.” Sam crossed his arms.

“How did you know I was going to ask about dad?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Bobby asked me like- an hour ago.” she sighed. Sam looked at her and frowned. “What? It's all you two are talking about, it's not hard to figure out.” Emily looked at Sam.

“Right,” he said. “Of course.” It wasn’t twenty minutes later that Sam and Dean came back in and announced they were leaving.

“Where are we going?” asked Emily, looking up from her book.

“We,” said Dean, pointing at him and Sam, “...are going to look into something Sam found in one of dad’s phones.” Sam disappeared in another room. “You’re staying here.”

“What?!” Emily almost choked on the beer she was drinking. “Why?”

“You cracked hard, okay? Nothing wrong with resting some more.” Sam said.

“Dean almost died!” she said, raising an eyebrow. Dean looked at her. “Shouldn't he be resting?” Sam gestured at her to shut up and rolled his eyes. It took Dean a second to answer.

“We’ll be back as soon as you can rewatch one of your stupid musicals,” he said. Emily rolled her eyes and tried to complain. “Final answer, Emily.”

Sam knocked on Emily’s open door a couple of hours later.

“Hey.” Emily half smiled, still deep into one of Bobby's lore books. “What’s up?”

“We need to talk,” said Sam, closing the door behind him. “Something weird is happening.”

“What?” Emily looked up at Sam, alarmed. He sighed, hesitating. “Sam, you’re kinda scaring me.”

“Recently, did you-” he looked into the hallway, nervous. “I know what you think about dad.” Emily raised her eyebrows.

“I beg your pardon?” Emily sat straighter in her bed.

“I know you didn’t see him as your father and I know- I know you think his death is tied to the demon.” Emily blinked, trying to understand if it was a joke or a very weird dream. “Nope, not joking,” said Sam. Did Sam read her journal? “Nope. Didn’t do that either.” Emily’s eyes widened.

“How did-”

“Telepathy,” he explained. “Accidental, as far as I can tell.” Emily looked at Sam. “Like earlier, you- you knew what I was about to ask you and that day at the post office, I knew-”

“Sam, I was just thinking out loud and- telepathy isn’t a thing!” said Emily, standing up.

“So weren’t vampires.” Sam said. “And our visions.” He sat on the bed. “Look, it’s weird, I know- but I think we should look into it.” Emily sat on the table that rested in a corner of her room.  

“So, what- what do we do? Did you tell Dean?”

“Not until we figure this out,” sighed Sam. “I don’t- I don’t want to give him more to worry about.”

“Right.” Emily sighed.

“So… if this is telepathy… does that mean-” I can do this? Sam’s voice reached from the back of her neck like he was in her brain.

“Jesus- what the hell, Sam?!” she said, scratching her neck.

“Okay, well, didn't like that,” said Sam, also reaching for the back of his neck. “It’s so weird.”

“Yeah- next time, give me a heads up, okay?” Sam looked behind him, checking for Dean's presence.

“You try now,” he said a second later, a hint of excitement crossing his features before Emily answered.

“What? No!” Emily crossed her arms. “Sam, this is not a party trick, it’s-” Emily shivered. “Shouldn’t we find out what this is first?”

“Yeah, but- it’s also kind of cool, right?” he said. Emily sighed. It would have been cool if it wasn’t fucking terrifying. “That’s what I said.” Emily rolled her eyes. “Just give it a try.”

“Okay,” she sighed. She focused on Sam. Come on, he's standing right in front of you. This has to be easy.

“Don't worry about it,” Sam said. Emily frowned. Oh. She'd done it. By mistake. “Why does it tickle?!”

Emily was sitting in the library, going through a lore book without really reading it. Dean and Sam had woken up early to leave and she hadn't been able to fall back to sleep. Someone knocked on the door, and Bobby, sitting across from her with his feet on the table, looked at the CCTV in the corner of the room. He put down his feet.

“Kid, you should go downstairs,” he said. Emily looked at him and frowned. He stood up and grabbed her from an arm. “Don't make a sound, okay?”

“Bobby what's going on?” The strangers knocked again. “Who is that?” Bobby dragged her to the basement and opened what looked like a cabinet, but actually had a double back.

“In there,” he said. “And stay quiet.” Emily didn't have the time to ask any more questions, that Bobby had already locked the double back and closed the cabinet. She heard a key click, and Bobby's steps back upstairs. She couldn't hear anything anymore, until there were more steps from multiple people coming into the basement.

“As you can see, officer, nothing to see here,” Bobby said. “I don't know who tipped ya, but there ain't no kid named Emily here,” he continued.

“Sir, we've had multiple witnesses calling to say she was seen here, often escorted by two older men,” said a second voice. “You understand, this is a missing person's case, mister Singer, it's in your best interest to collaborate.”

“And I'd be happy to, if I'd seen a kid in this house in the last twenty years, officer,” Bobby said. “This kid, you said she went missing from where?”

“Portland,” said a third voice. Emily held her breath. “About four years ago, that's all I can disclose.”

“And how’d a kid get here from Oregon, officer? It's a long way,” Bobby said. “I think you might have the wrong address.”

“Do you mind if we look around?” said the second voice. The steps echoed from around the room, and when they got closer to her, they stopped. The cabinet door rattled. “Do you have a key for this?”

“I should, yeah,” Bobby’s keys echoes through the room as he took them out of his overalls. “Let me see… Try this.” The door rattled again. “No? Mhh, wait, maybe it's this one.” Bobby had the officer try three different keys before the cabinet opened. Emily saw some light shine through the fake back, and held her breath. “It's old, I was meaning to get it to the landfill next week.” The double backing rattled as the cop tried to move it. Emily tried to flatten her body on the actual cabinet, hoping not to be noticed. She had never once thought about the fact someone might have reported her as missing. Surely never thought someone in Sioux Falls might have seen her, recognized her as the kid that went missing from Oregon, and reported her. How did that even happen?

“Okay, mister Singer, everything seems in order here,” said the officer, closing the cabinet door. “Sorry to have disturbed you, we will let you carry on with your day.”

“It's no problem, officer,” said Bobby. And just like that, the cops were gone. Bobby came back into the basement a few minutes later. “Coast is clear,” he said, opening the double back to let it out. “you okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” Emily dusted off her overalls. “How did you know they were looking for me?” she asked.

“I better go stock up on food, you're not going on supply runs for a while,” he answered, trying to ignore her question.

“Bobby, what-”

“Don't worry about it, okay?” he said. “They're gone, they're not gonna come back if we play our cards well.”

“So what now? I never get out of the house again?”

“We're gonna have to figure something out, but don't worry about it now,” Bobby said, climbing the stairs. “I'll talk to the sheriff, see if she can take care of it.”

“How?” she asked. “Bobby, this isn't a minor thing we can just erase off my file, they're looking for me all the way from Oregon, it's a fucking national search! I can't-”

“Right now, the only thing you have to worry about is cleaning your room,” Bobby interrupted her. Emily frowned. Bobby Singer asking her to clean? Something was up. “I'm serious, it's a mess in there, you better go and clean it up or I'll do it for ya.”

“Whatever,” Emily sighed, walking past him. “But you're gonna have to answer me at some point.”

Bobby disappeared for the entire rest of the day, and came back after Emily had already had dinner. She was sitting on a chair, feet propped on the table, barely skimming through a book, when the door slammed close.

“That was a long supply run,” she commented, closing the book. “How much longer do I have to play Rapunzel for?”

“You're not playing Rapunzel, you're just keeping a low profile,” Bobby answered, putting two grocery bags down on the table. “I'm not gonna force you to stay here, just- don't get into trouble, okay?”

Sam and Dean had been gone for two days, Bobby was working on something in the garage, and Emily had just about run out of stuff to read. She put on her shoes and walked to the park. She was due to get back to hunting soon anyway, she could have used a run. Not a lot of people ran at the Sioux Falls park, and it was usually old people doing laps with their friends. That day, however, there was also another person that wasn't sixty. He was a dark-haired guy, tall, wearing a sweated down tank top and Bluetooth earphones. Emily remembered seeing him at school a couple of times when she was graduating, and maybe having an AP calculus class with him. He seemed to remember her, too, because at her third lap, he reached her.

“Sorry,” he said, running alongside her. “You're- You're Emily, right?” he asked. Emily panicked. Could the school be the reason they were looking for her in South Dakota? What if he was actually working with the cops? “We had AP calc together a couple years ago,” he continued. Emily didn't answer, her mind still running a million different hypotheses and scenarios of how a twenty- something year old could actually lead to the cops bringing her back to foster care. “I don't know if you remember, I'm Daniel,” he said. Okay, fuck it, at this point I just look rude, she thought.

“Hey,” she smiled. “Yeah, I- I think I remember you,” she said. “I think I gave you some notes you were missing or- or something.”

“Yeah, you did,” he said. “Definitely saved my senior year.” Emily chuckled. “So, what brings you back here? I thought with a brain like yours you'd be off to Stanford or- I don't know, some big name school.” Touché, Daniel, touché.

“Yeah,” she said. “It- it didn't quite work out that way, so I'm back.” Daniel pointed to the hotdog stand that sat a few feet outside the park and Emily followed him there. “What about you?”

“I'm going to USF,” he explained. “I know it doesn't look like it, but it's actually a good school.” Daniel took some money out of his pocket. “You want something?” he asked.

“Oh, no-” Emily smiled. “None for me, thanks, I- I just had lunch.” Daniel paid for a hotdog and then went to sit on a bench. “What are you majoring in?” she asked.

“Sports Marketing,” Daniel said with a grimace. “I know it's not some crazy interesting thing, but I like it,” he took a bite of hotdog. “Plus, my dad works at the sports centers, so I might be able to get work as soon as I graduate, which is good.”

“No, it's- it's a good major,” Emily said, trying her hardest to smile. That had to be the most boring conversation she'd ever been in. And he'd interrupted her run for a hot dog.

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked. Emily's brain jolted awake, panic settling in. There was no way the boring encounter was going to end into a boring invitation to a boring party. “There's a party down at a buddy’s house, nothing crazy, you know- just- just a college party.” Okay, way to make it sound boring. And yet, it was less boring than staying home staring at a lore book all night without reading it while Bobby complained of back pain.

“Yeah that- that sounds fun,” she said. “I'll definitely come by.” Daniel smiled. Ah, shit. I just agreed to a date.

“Cool!” said Daniel. “Here, give me your phone, I’ll put in my address for you.” The good old ‘give me your phone’ trick. Thought Emily. And now you’re going to tell me you also saved your number, just in case, right? “I also saved my number, you know- just in case.” Okay, Daniel from AP calc, I’ll play this game. Maybe this is the time I actually get to have sex instead of just lying about it to Dean.

“Mind if I text you to double check?” she asked. “You know, just in case.”

“Bobby, do we have any beer left?” asked Emily, entering Bobby’s house, throwing her tennis shoes in a corner. “And- can you give me a lift into town tonight?” Bobby appeared from inside the kitchen.  

“What do you need a lift for?” he asked. Sam also walked out behind Bobby.

“A p- Sam? Are you guys back already?” she asked. Bobby and Sam remained silent. “I- I was gonna go to a party…?”

“A party?” Bobby squinted. “What happened to keeping a low profile?” Emily tried to find a way out for herself, but both Bobby and Sam seemed determined to get answers from her.

“I was invited,” she said, rolling her eyes and walkinf in the kitchen between Sam and Bobby. “I met a guy and he invited me to a party.”

“And how old is this guy?” asked Sam. Emily grabbed a beer off the fridge, but Sam took it away from her and held it above his head. “Speak.”

“Jesus Christ- He's in college, okay? He was in my AP calc class.” Emily tried to get the beer back. “Sam, give me the beer!”

“No- You’re sixteen, no beer for you,” he said. He placed the beer on top of a counter. “And no parties, either.”

“I used to carry a gun,” she said. “How- How can I carry a gun but not drink beer?”

“Welcome to America, sweetheart,” said Bobby. “I can’t give you a lift, but you know who could?” He pointed to Sam.

“I’m not giving her a lift to a college party,” said Sam.

“Oh, come on!” said Emily. “Like- I can shoot, I can kill vampires and burn bodies but I cannot go to a party?”

“You’re not the problem, college boys are,” said Sam. “I don’t trust them to… well, not to take advantage of you.”

“I can take care of myself, Samuel.” Emily crossed her arms. “I just need someone to drive me there and pick me up.”

“You want me to wait for you like a dad outside a concert?” Sam frowned. “No chance.” Dean appeared behind him and Sam handed him the beer. Emily scoffed.

“You should go to the party, Sammy,” said Dean. “It’d be good for you, you know- wind down, get drunk, maybe get some action.”

“Why don’t you go?” said Sam.

“I’m twenty seven dude- I can’t go to college parties.” Emily tried to get the beer back from Dean, but he also held it above his head.

“What’s wrong with you two?” she asked. “Why can’t I drink beer all of a sudden?!”

“Oh, you can,” said Dean. “But this was the last one and I asked Sam to keep it safe for me,” he continued with a smile. Sam huffed. “Sorry, kid.” Dean walked away from the room showing off his beer.

“So- lift or not?” said Emily. “I have to get ready.”

“Dude- no lift. And no party,” Sam said.

“You don’t get to decide that!” said Emily. “I’m going to the party- you can either come with me or stay home.” Sam looked at Bobby, who shrugged. He sighed and scratched his nose.

“Okay, you know what-” Sam said. “Fine. I'll go with ya.”  

Emily and Sam entered the car and started the engine.  

“I can’t believe I’m doing this-” he said, merging in the road. “You really didn’t have anything else to wear besides denim overalls?”

“Hey!” said Emily. “These are my party overalls.”

“And they are different because?”

“Because they are not stained with blood. And I haven’t defiled any grave while wearing them,” she explained. Sam chuckled. “Also- you’re wearing a Stanford t-shirt. You can’t judge me on my outfit.”

“Yeah- It’s my going out t-shirt,” he said. “No blood stains.” Emily shook her head. “So- What’s the plan?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean- you like this dude that invited you, so- I guess you want to- uhm- attempt an approach tonight?” Emily’s cheeks flushed with blood. Sam huffed.

“What- Wait, am I supposed to do it?” Asked Emily. “Does he like- expect me to, I don’t know- suck his d-”

“Woah, okay- Not where I was going with this, but thanks for the visual-” Sam shook his head and sighed. “Listen, do I have to give you the ‘you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do’ talk?”

“Dude, I was a child prodigy. I’m immune to peer pressure,” said Emily. “No, I- I was just wondering if I'm supposed to be the one who gets it started.”

“Not usually,” Sam shrugged. “But I don't think he's gonna say no if you do.”

“Great,” Emily sighed. She crossed her arms and remained silent. She’d been thinking about losing her virginity for a while. Trying to plan it like she planned the day she’d wash her hair based on how long she thought gigs were going to be. But maybe- maybe rather than with a random man from a bar, doing it with a college student who showed actual interest for like- half a second, would be a better idea. Maybe? That was the reason she'd agreed on going to the party in the first place, but seeing it approach her minute by minute made it more real. And scary. Sam glared at her a couple of times before talking again.

“You realize I can hear you, right?” he said. “Telepathy.” Emily rolled her eyes. “Look, I wish I could tell you to, you know- wait to do it with someone who loves you, but-”

“Samuel, I swear to god-” Emily covered her face with her hands.

“It’s just- our life is… well it’s not the best when it comes to long term relationships, so, I mean- If you really want to, just- go for it.”

“Okay-” Emily dragged her hands across her face. “I don’t- I don’t need you to give me the talk, okay?” Sam parked along the road.

“Just, you know- use a con-” Emily punched Sam’s shoulder. He laughed. “Okay, okay- sorry!”

“Alright then-” said Emily, crossing her arms. The music echoed inside her ribcage and made her body tremble to the rhythm of the terrible techno tunes that were blasting out of the speakers. “What- Where's Daniel?” She tried to look for him in the crowd. Sam bent over to speak in her ear.

“We should get you a drink-” said Sam, dragging Emily through the house trying not to bump into anyone. He arrived at a table filled with alcohol and soft drinks. Emily couldn't pay attention to what he was mixing, too distracted by the various groups and activities around the room.

A group of people were dancing next to the speakers, a couple of people were sitting in a corner of the room, minding their business. There were two- maybe three people on a couch making out, and a group of dudes in a corner, surrounded by a thick white smoke.

“What am I supposed to do?” she asked Sam. He gave her a red cup and frowned.

“Drink. You'll figure it out,” he said. Emily looked inside the cup, it was transparent, but had some bubbles on the walls and at the bottom. “It's gin lemon.” Emily took a sip and looked some more for Daniel around the room. When she saw him, she froze. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe lying about her age and having sex with a twenty-something years old was not a good idea. Sam pushed her one step forward. She turned and he was already gone into the crows. Emily sighed and walked towards Daniel.

“Hey!” she said. Daniel turned towards her and smiled.

“Hey! You made it!” Emily nodded.  

“Yeah,” she said. “So- nice party you have going on,” she said. How the fuck do I talk to people? She thought to herself.

“Thanks! You- Uh- I like your overalls,” he said.

“Oh, thanks, I…” Emily hesitated. “I love overalls.” What the fuck does that mean? She thought. Is he serious? Or is he trying to bully me? Why am I even-

Emily, just talk to the guy, she heard Sam's voice in the back of her head. She scratched her neck and ignored him.

“Do you- Do you want a drink?” Asked Daniel. Emily accepted and Daniel gestured at her to give him her cup. She looked at it. It was still full.

Emily, don't-

Sam's telepathy wasn't fast enough, and Emily downed the entire content of the cup with a grimace of disgust before handing it to Daniel. He chuckled.

“In a rush to get drunk?” he asked.

“Kinda,” Emily said. “I- I don't really go to parties, so this is- this is making me nervous.” Daniel gave her her cup back, filled with more transparent, sparkling liquid. He smiled.

“Really? Me neither, I- My buddy convinced me to throw this party while my parents are out of town.” Emily took a sip of whatever was in her cup. She didn't recognize the taste, which made it not gin and not whiskey. It was something else. Something low-key disgusting.

“Oh, yeah- peer pressure is the worst,” said Emily, taking another sip of her drink. Daniel looked at her and frowned.

“You don't like tequila, do you?” he asked. Emily looked at him and took a second to figure out what he was saying. Tequila. The drink was made with tequila.

“Uh- not too much. But it's fine. This will do its job of getting me drunk.” She smiled. As music blasted through the house and people danced and pushed each other through doors and rooms, Emily remained silent, looking at an indefinite point behind Daniel. She could see Sam sitting on a couch in the next room. Daniel made a drink for himself.

“Do you- do you want to go somewhere quieter?” He asked. Emily's eyes jolted back on Daniel. She hesitated. Don't nod too fast. She thought. But also don't keep him waiting. But also, that was fast. Like, talked for two seconds fast. Emily opened her mouth to talk. What does he mean by somewhere quieter? Where are we-

Emily-

“S-Sure- Yeah, why not?”

Five minutes later, Emily found herself in Daniel's parents' bed. They were kissing, his hand was going places northbound and her overalls were already half-way to being off of her. God I hope Sam can't hear me now. To that thought, Emily's body stiffened up. Daniel pulled away.

“Are you okay?” He asked. “We- We can stop if-”

“What?” said Emily. She dried the corner of her lips with her hand. “No, I-I’m okay.”

This isn't what I imagined. She thought to herself. As Daniel’s hands traveled all over her, Emily laid on her back, unsure on what to do, what to say, what to touch and how to touch it.

Was it sex? Yes. Technically.

Was it good sex? For lack of a comparison, Emily had to abstain from answering that question to herself, but she could only hope that was not how sex was supposed to feel. She could only hope sex was supposed to be better than that.

Emily didn't know if it was Daniel's fault, if maybe being stuck in the same damn position for twenty fucking minutes was just getting boring, but having a man go in and out of her wasn't that fun. Porn lied. Emily stared at the ceiling above her, her body bouncing up and down the mattress, a hand around Daniel's arm and a series of rhythmic moans coming out of her just because she thought they had to. She was feeling close to nothing. The condom had been rubbing back and forth for way too long and it was starting to hurt. If that was sex, sex sucked.

Daniel stopped. Jesus Christ- is it over? She thought to herself. Daniel moved away from above her and laid on the bed, next to her.  Oh- thank god-

“Okay.” Daniel sighed and took off the condom. “I- I have to tell you something.” Emily turned towards him. “I- I never had sex before this,” he said. “I- I take it it wasn't that good, sorry-”

“What?” Emily raised her eyebrows. “No it's- it's okay, we all have to start somewhere.” Probably should have said I was also a virgin but I guess it's too late now.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course. It was alright.”

Emily entered the car with a sigh. She kicked her shoes away and crossed her arms on the seat. Sam started the engine.

“So?” he said. “I saw you leaving with Daniel.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you…?”

“Yeah.”

“Was it-”

“Yeah, it was alright.” She lied. Sam looked at her for a second but kept driving.

“Okay, now try with the truth,” he said.

“Sorry to disappoint,” said Emily, cold. The whole thing had left her annoyed. Of course the only person (kinda) her age to ever show interest in her was a virgin and didn’t know what he was doing. Of fucking course.  Sam huffed and started to pull inside a drive through.

“I mean- it's usually bad.” Emily ignored him and looked at the menu through the window.

“I’ll take a cheeseburger with fries,” she said. “And… ask if they have the Snickers ice cream sundae.” Sam ordered the food and dropped the brown paper bag on Emily's lap.

“Come on, don't be shy,” said Sam. “How did it really go?” Emily opened the bag and sighed.

“Boring,” she said. She took a bite of her cheeseburger. Sam kept driving towards Bobby's house. Emily looked inside the bag. A cheeseburger, fries, and an ice cream. “Did you not get anything?”

“No- I'm not hungry,” said Sam. “I had some chips at the party.” Emily nodded. “So- how do you feel, having ticked this item off your bucket list?”

“I feel exactly as before. Just- I smell like condom now.”

The following night, Emily was cooking dinner when Sam approached her, closing the kitchen door behind him.

“Bobby, do we have any…” she said before turning and realizing it was Sam. “Oh, sorry, I thought-”

“We need to talk,” he said. Emily lowered the stove and turned.  

“What?” she asked.

“It’s about the telepathy thing.” Now that she was looking at him, she realized he was not moving his mouth at all. None of that conversation was happening. It was all telepathy. Sam also frowned.  

“I think we should tell Dean,” she made sure to articulate every single word. She didn't know why she thought that all of a sudden, but she did. “We can’t risk him finding out the wrong way.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m here to talk about!” Sam walked closer. “I couldn’t find anything on the lore, but I think- I think we should tell him you know? He should hear it from us.”

“Hear about what?” asked Dean’s voice behind Sam. He moved, revealing Dean, leaning on the door frame holding a beer. Sam and Emily exchanged a look.

“Cool, he was right here!” said Emily, rolling her eyes. Sam crossed his arms. Dean remained silent, waiting for an explanation.

So? Emily heard Sam’s voice and couldn’t help but squirm at the weird tickling sensation. Say something!

No, you say something! Sam squirmed too. Dean frowned.

“What the hell are you guys doing?” he asked. Emily and Sam exchanged a quick look. Sam spoke first.

“So, you know how me and Emily have these… visions?” Dean nodded.

“Your mojo-shit, yes.” Dean crossed his arms.

“Well, it might be more than just visions,” said Sam. Dean’s expression changed. He wasn’t just annoyed anymore. He was worried.

“As in?” he asked. Sam hesitated and looked back at Emily.

“We- we kinda found out we can… uh- talk telepathically.” Dean looked at Emily. Then at Sam. His lips parted and his eyebrows raised, surprise having the best of him.

“What?!” Dean said, a couple of seconds later. “How long?”

“Well, that’s-” Sam tried to find a way to soften the fact they’d known for sure for almost a week.  

“How long?!” Dean repeated.

“I’ve known for a while. I told Emily the day we went to see Ellen.” Dean sighed and traced his face with his hand.

“Alright so, what is this, you… send each other MMS of your feelings?” Emily leaned on the sink and failed to hide a chuckle, but Dean’s scowl put her laugh to rest.

“Dean, we’re still figuring it out, it doesn’t have to be a big deal-” she said.  Dean scoffed.

“Not a big deal?” he repeated. “Dude, you’re becoming the x-men, how is it not a big deal?”

“Jesus Christ, stop calling me dude!” answered Emily, frustrated. She pushed herself off the sink. “And also- sure, it’s weird and- and we definitely need to look into it, but it’s not dangerous!” Dean rolled his eyes. “It's just- shared thoughts, it's not like our mind might explode or something!”

“It might!” said Dean. “How do you know it won't?”

“Okay, can you two not start?” said Sam. Emily sighed, leaning back on the sink. Dean walked away from the room. Sam sighed and looked at Emily for one second before following Dean through the house.

Disappear

From Beetlejuice - The Musical

“Are you sure you want to come?” said Sam as Emily packed her stuff, going back and forth in Bobby’s house and looking for her things. 

“Jesus- yes, I am sure! Stop asking that,” she said. “I am not staying here as Dean shoots a random guy.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“I will not shoot a random guy!” He said.

“Yeah, well- the vision said otherwise.” Emily zipped her bag shut. Sam opened his mouth to talk, but telepathy was faster. It's too dangerous. “Come on Samuel, it’s just one job!” she said. Dean frowned. He didn’t like it when they used their powers, but most times it wasn’t intentional. One would think something too hard and the other would pick up on it faster than words could express it.

“I’m just-” Sam looked at Dean behind him. “We’re just looking out for you.” Emily picked up her bag and looked at him. “The visions are usually tied to Azazel, so I- We want to make sure you…” Sam trailed off. He was trying to find a nice, polite way of saying ‘I don’t want you to freak the fuck out and punch me in the nose again’, but he had forgotten about telepathy. Emily already knew. She raised her eyebrows. Dean spoke to break the silence.

“What Sam’s trying to say-”

“I know what Sam’s trying to say,” said Emily.

“Is that we don’t want you to go all shades of crazy again. Twice is enough.” Sam turned towards Dean and raised his hands.

“What the hell, man?” he sighed.

“What? Someone had to say it.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Emily said. “Either of you has been driving me anywhere close to crazy as you used to,” said Emily. “Now can we go?”

“Alright,” said Sam. “But you’re glued to my ass.” Emily rolled her eyes and made her way into the car. She took place in the passenger's seat. Sam looked at her through the doorway and scoffed, but took place in the back in silence. Dean turned on the engine and drove off the property.

“So, again, what was the vision about?” he asked.

“Well, we were in a room with other people. One of them looked like a nurse… the blonde one, right?” said Emily. Sam nodded in agreement. “And then there was a guy tied up and you shot him.”

“Just like that?”

“Yeah. But something’s weird, I-” She hesitated a second and looked at Sam. “Usually the visions are about the demon, right? But- there was no such thing.”

“Well- then I am sure the guy had it coming,” said Dean.

“I hope so,” said Sam. The car went silent for a second.

“What is that supposed to mean?” asked Dean. “I wouldn’t waste an innocent man.” Sam raised his eyebrows. “I wouldn’t!”

“I never said you would!” Sam said, looking away.

“Fine.”

“Fine.” Sam repeated. “Look, we don't know what it is. But whatever it is, that guy in the chair's a part of it. So let's find him, and see what's what.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.” Emily looked at Sam, then at Dean, confused at the tension between her siblings.

Sam, what’s going on? Sam scratched the back of his neck. Why are you being so weird?

He didn’t tell you? Emily looked at Sam through the rearview mirror. Dean cleared his voice. Dad made a deal with the demon to bring back Dean. That’s why he’s dead.

“HE DID WHAT?!” she screamed, making Dean jump in his seat, the car losing his straight course for a second. He was opening his mouth to complain, but Emily talked over him. “And you didn’t think it was an important thing to tell me?!” Dean looked even more confused.

“What are you even talking about?!” asked Dean. He looked at her, then the street, then at Sam through the rearview mirror. Sam exhaled and adjusted himself in his seat.

“Dad,” he said.

“Dude- I knew you were doing your freaky mind games behind my back!” said Dean, looking at Sam through the rearview mirror. “We have to put down some rules-”

“Dean!” said Emily, interrupting him. “Dad made a deal with the demon?!” Dean sighed and rolled his eyes.

”I really don't feel like getting into it right now,” he said, his knuckles whitening around the steering wheel.

“Why not? I have a right to know!” said Emily. Dean’s expression changed. He turned towards Emily.

“I said-”

“And I said-”

Emily, come on… I can tell you about it. Emily stopped talking and turned towards Sam.

“No! He’s the one who should have told me in the first place- I want to hear it from him.” Emily said, turning in her seat. Dean tried to complain about the telepathy again, but Emily once again talked over him. “I know you tend to forget it sometimes, but technically- he was my dad too!”

“Technically?!” said Dean. “He was your dad too- period! What does ‘technically’ mean?”

“Don’t change the subject!” said Emily. “What happened?!”

“Not now,” said Dean. Emily tried to speak, but it was Dean to talk over her. “EMILY, I said NOT NOW!” His voice roared through the car and shut everyone up. Emily didn’t dare to look back at Sam. She crossed her arms, sighed, and stared out the window. “Finally,” said Dean after a couple seconds of silence. “I really didn’t miss having you always up in my fucking business.” Emily huffed.

“Dean, come on-” said Sam, a hint of frustration coming through his voice.

About ten hours later, they stopped for gas and for food. Emily didn't said a word and just left for the bathroom.

“Ten-” said Dean.

“Yeah, I know,” said Emily, not bothering to look back. She took a detour inside the gas station to buy food. And she had to guess Sam and Dean did too, because she heard their voices behind a pile of boxes filled with all kinds of chips.

“Dean, you’re gonna have to have a conversation with her at some point,” said Sam. “I can’t keep putting off your fires.”

“Then don’t,” said Dean. “I don’t even know why we still lug her around. Dad’s dead. She can go back to Portland for all I care.” Emily’s blood felt like it was on fire, the confirmation of what she’d always thought heaving down on her way more than she thought it was going to.

“Dean, you know that’s not-” Sam stopped talking. Without saying another word, he walked around the boxes, grabbed Emily and dragged her out the back so Dean wouldn’t see them.

“What- Sam, let me go!” said Emily, shoving Sam’s hand away from her arm. He crossed his arms and his lips tensed in something Emily could only describe as a bitch face. “What, you think I don’t know what Dean thinks about me?” Sam sighed.

“He doesn’t hate you-”

“No?” Emily scoffed. “Then what was that?!” She pointed inside the gas station. “You know what?! I’ll- I’ve got my stuff, I’ll just stay in Portland. Dean’s right, you don’t need to-”

“Emily, we’re not leaving you in Portland,” said Sam. “He wouldn’t-” Sam stopped talking and looked around. Dean would. That was the problem. Both him and Emily knew that. “Look- I’ll talk to him, okay?” Emily crossed her arms and nodded, annoyed. “What do you want to eat?” He asked.

“I don’t know, I- Just get me whatever you get,” she said.

“I- I’m not hungry,” said Sam. Emily raised her eyebrows. “I had a big breakfast.” Yeah, right. She thought. And again, Sam gave her the bitch face.

“Just… I don’t know, a salad. And a pack of cigarettes.” Sam rolled his eyes and disappeared back in the gas station. Emily walked to the bathroom. She touched her back pocket and felt her knife. She locked herself in the stall. Nobody was going to know if she did it again. The important thing was Dean didn’t know. Sam probably would have covered for her if she asked him to. Probably. Point was, Dean hated her. He wanted to get rid of her, and after four years of being siblings, he finally had a way out.

Dean wanted to get rid of her. He wouldn’t care if she died. Maybe he would be glad she did. She closed her hand around the closed knife. Come on. She thought to herself. You said you were going to find a better way. But just as always, she found herself questioning the point of finding a better way. Alcohol? Drugs? Drown it in sex like Dean did? How was that any better? The sounds of the gas station got more and more distant and were replaced by the words ‘Dean wants you to die’, as she looked at the cut on her arm slowly being filled with blood. It was almost an out of body experience, where she looked at herself from above as she dragged the blade across the skin a second time. She held her breath as someone entered the bathroom. The door opened and with a scared yelp she let go of the knife. She looked up. It was Sam. He dragged his hand across his face.

“How did you even know I was here?” Asked Emily. She didn’t bother trying to hide what she was doing.

“Apparently, if you get upset enough, telepathy works even if we’re not close.” He sighed. “You know, of all the ways there are to-”

“Sam, can we not?” said Emily. “It’s fine. I don’t want you to worry about me.”  

“Someone has to,” he said. Emily crossed her arms, trying to hide a hiss of pain. “Come on, give me your arm.” He took a box of bandaids out of his jacket.

“What- do you just carry those around?” She asked. Sam smirked.
        “No, I- I stole them from the gas station while I was trying to find you,” he said. Emily shook her head. “Next time just say something, okay? There has to be a better way.” Emily nodded, but she knew, deep down, she was never going to go to Sam for help. Asking for help wasn't something she did. Ever. Even when her life was normal, she never asked for help. She never needed help.

“We need to hurry, Dean's going to be mad, we’re taking longer than ten minutes,” she whispered. Sam looked at her and sighed, resigned.

“It's going to be okay. I’ll figure out an excuse,” he said as he glued the bandaid on her arm. “I got you a salad, is it okay?”

“It's fine,” she said.

Emily sat in the car and took place in the back. Dean looked at her through the rearview mirror as Sam sat in the front seat.

“Where the hell were you?” said Dean. “I said ten minutes you- you must have taken like half an hour!” Emily looked at him and sighed. She crossed her arms.

“Sorry,” she whispered. Dean frowned, probably surprised she didn't argue back. He turned on the engine and drove out of the gas station.

“So, you're from Portland, right?” said Dean. Emily ignored him and looked out the window. “Excited to be back home?” When he saw he wasn't getting any response, Dean sighed. “Look, I’m sorry I yelled at you this morning, okay? I’m just-”

“It's fine,” said Emily. She didn't take her eyes off the trees racing outside the window. With the corner of her eye, she saw Dean turn towards Sam and Sam gesturing something at him. “Last time I was in Portland my whole family died, so- No, I am not excited,” she said. Dean looked at her through the rearview mirror and didn't answer. “I just hope you don't shoot my ex boyfri-” She caught herself in the middle of a truth she did not want Sam and Dean to know. The car came to an abrupt halt.

“What did you say?!” said Dean. Sam turned in his seat.

“Nothing.”

“No, you said- Do you know the guy?!” asked Dean. Emily looked at him, then at Sam, and sighed.

“Yeah.”

“Wh- See?! That's why you don't work cases in your hometown!” Emily rolled her eyes. “Don't give me the attitude- You're staying at the motel, I don't-”

“What?! No! You are not benching me again, I can handle myself!”

“Can you?!” he said. “Show me your arms.” Emily looked at him. She looked at Sam. He intervened.

“I checked her,” he said. “She's clean. And she only tagged along because she said she was going to be with me, right?” Dean ignored him. “Really, Dean. She's okay to work a job.”

“Whatever,” said Dean. “But if I see one false step I drive you back to the motel and lock you in.” Emily scoffed and looked away. “But from now on, no more secrets. Okay?” He waited for an answer. “Emily!”

“Yes sir,” she said, a hint of mockery in her voice. Dean’s knuckles whitened against the steering wheel.

“Anything else you want to tell us before we get there?” he asked.

“I-” Emily sighed. “I also know another person from the vision,” she said. “The blonde girl, I- We were close friends when I was in high school.”

“Emily, I swear to God-” Dean dragged his hand across his face. “Okay, anybody else?” Emily shook her head. “Are you sure?”

“Jesus Christ, yes!” said Emily. “I am sure!” Dean was about to say something, when he encountered Sam's gaze. He was giving him the look. The one Emily could never figure out what it meant. That seemed to shut Dean up for long enough.

Emily saw the Portland, 3 miles sign and sighed. That time had come. The time to be back in her town after years of ignoring it, shoving it down her brain until she could pretend she never had a life before the Winchesters. She looked at the familiar skyline and crossed her arms. She used to be happy there. She tried to stay quiet, but when Emily saw her old ballet studio, she scoffed and turned away from the window.

You still sure you want to be here? said Sam's voice. Emily scratched her neck.

No.

Dean parked the car on the main- and only- street in Rivergrove. Emily had been there every summer for her entire childhood. It wasn’t a big city in any way: kids biking around by themselves by age eight, chubby cops eating donuts. And Mark. Mark used to be in the military and he had to be the most paranoid son of a bitch Emily ever met. Well. She corrected herself. Except John Winchester.

Dean handed Emily a fake badge and was about to get out of the car, but she stopped him.

“Wait,” she said. “I can’t use this badge!” Emily moved the badges around in the box to see if there was anything that even resembled her name. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Why?” he asked.

“It says ‘Agent Monica Jones’” Emily pointed at the pile of badges. “Mark has known me all my life.”

“I got this,” said Sam. “Don’t worry.” Emily followed Sam and Dean towards the police station.

“Good morning,” said Dean, already taking out his badge.

“Morning,” answered Mark. He was stern and cold just like Emily remembered him to be. “Can I help you?”

“Actually, yeah,” said Sam. “Billy Gibbons, Frank Beard. U.S. Marshals. This is Emily, our newest recruit.” He moved sideways and Emily took a step forward. Mark put down his rifle and stood up.

“Emily?!” he said, surprised. “I haven’t seen you since… What happened to you?”

“You know, I needed some time off after… after the incident.” Emily forced a smile out of her lips. Mark’s eyes softened as soon as she mentioned the fire. “Listen, we- we  are looking for the Tanner’s.”

“What for? The kids in trouble?” Mark finally sat back down.

“No, no, it’s...” Emily looked at Sam. “It’s just routine.”

“They still live in the same house, up Aspen Way,” said Mark.

“I don’t think he bought it,” said Emily as soon as they were out of earshot from Mark. “He knows I’m way too young to be a recruit and he knows I'm a missing person,” she continued. “So long for keeping a low profile.” Sam was about to answer but he stopped in the middle of the road, reading an incision on a telephone pole. Emily approached it as well.  CROATOAN

“That's bad news for sure,” said Emily. She exchanged a worried gaze with Sam. Dean frowned, confused.

“Roanoke? Lost colony? Ring a bell? Dean, did you pay any attention in history class?” said Sam. None of that seemed to ring any bells in Dean’s mind.

“Dean, the first English colony? Wiped out mysteriously?” said Emily. Dean’s mouth formed an ‘o’ for a second before he answered.

“Ah… yeah, I do remember that. The only thing they left behind was a single word carved in a tree. Croatoan.” Emily pointed at the word carved in the pole.

“I’m calling Bobby,” said Emily. “Maybe he knows more about this.” She took out her phone and dialed Bobby’s number, but the call didn’t go through. “I got no service,” she said. Dean and Sam looked at their phones and frowned. Sam turned it towards her. Also no service. “Right.” Emily approached a public phone, but the line seemed dead as well. “Looks like we are on our own.”

Emily walked Sam and Dean towards Duane’s house.

“So, you know these people well?” asked Sam. Emily sighed.

“Kinda. Duane was my best friend slash kindergarten boyfriend slash… I don’t know- we were close. That’s it.”

“Was there a horse with wings?” Sam huffed with a smile.

“No.” Emily smiled. “But now that I think about it… he is about to get shot.” Dean frowned.

“What are you talking about?” He asked.

“Heathers,” said Sam. “It’s a musical.”

“God- you two really are nerds.” he sighed. Emily rolled her eyes. “Wanna do the honors of speaking with them?” Emily looked at Dean, then at Sam. He smiled.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” she said. “What if-”

“Think about it this way,” said Sam. “what would scare them more, an old friend coming to visit or three US marshals looking for their son?”

“Alright…” she said. She stepped out of the car and knocked on the door. Duane’s brother, Jake, opened the door.

“Hey Jake,“ said Emily. The guy seemed startled. “How are you doing?” Jake hesitated. Great. Thought Emily. He doesn't remember me. “It’s Emily, I used to hang out with your brother all the time?” He seemed to piece it all together and smiled.

“Oh- yeah, hey! What- what are you doing here?” He asked, looking both ways outside the house and noticing Sam and Dean standing next to the Impala a few yards back.

“I was in the area and thought I would come to visit,” Emily explained. “Is Duane around?”

“He… he’s not, he’s on a fishing trip with-” From inside the house, Emily heard the familiar voice of Mr Tanner, who soon came to the door asking who it was. The arrival of Duane's dad meant twenty minutes of conversation about what happened to her and where she'd been. Twenty minutes of lies Emily had accurately crafted over the years just in case she ever met a friend. After managing to politely refuse a very insistent dinner invite with the excuse of having work, Emily walked back to the Impala with a weird feeling.

“So?” asked Sam as soon as she approached the car, re-entering the car.

“I don't know...” Emily tapped her fingers on top of the car.  “Something doesn't feel right. They said Duane is out fishing but… I’ve never heard him - or any of them really- talk about fishing before.”

“Let's go take a look,“ said Dean. He walked around the car and loaded his gun. Sam did the same. Emily followed her brothers to the back of the house. Dean took a peek through the curtains and then ducked under the window. “You were right,” he said, a worried look on his face. He gestured at her to take a look. Emily looked in the living room through the curtain to see Duane’s mother tied up to a chair, blood all over her face. She ducked back under the window and looked at Sam. “Me and Sam are gonna go in,” said Dean, taking a gun out of his jacket. “you wait here and shoot at anything that comes through.”

“Not if it’s us,” added Sam. Emily rolled her eyes with a smile and took place under the living room window. She loaded the gun Sam gave her. Dean kicked down the door. Emily heard fighting sounds, a gunshot, and then the sound of glass breaking. As shards showered her, someone came out of the window and started running. She tried to shoot him, but she couldn’t see and she missed. Twice.

Dean put Mr Tanner’s body in the Impala’s trunk and drove to the town's clinic. Duane’s mother was in the back of the Impala, sitting next to Emily. She didn’t say a single word the entire ride. Dean walked in the clinic with her. Emily stayed behind. Sam appeared next to her.

“Are you okay?”

“No,” she said. “I- We just killed Duane’s dad, okay? I- I knew these people. They were like-” Emily took a deep breath. “Dean was right. This was not a good idea.”

“You want me to drive you back to the motel?” He asked. Emily shook her head. “Are you sure, I-”

“No, Sam, it’s fine. I don’t-” She crossed her arms and looked at the floor. “It's fine.”

“I mean, if you’re sure, but-” Dean appeared through the door again. He tapped on it with his hand and frowned.

“What the hell are you two doing out here?” Emily walked in the clinic without moving her eyes from her feet and shoved Dean to the side.

“Emily?!” said a familiar voice. “Is that you?!” Emily looked up and saw Pam. A nurse, just like she’d always wanted to be. And just like in the vision.

“Hey-” Emily said, forcing out a smile. “Yeah, it’s- it’s me.” Pam had been one of the people that were nice to Emily even though she was so much younger than her. She was almost like a big sister. Surely more sibling-like than Dean.

“I can’t believe you’re here! We never heard from you and we thought-” Pam smiled and hugged her. “Are you okay? What happened?!”

“I- I was in foster care until I met my dad.”

“Oh-my-god! Your dad?! So you finally met him?” said Pam. Emily looked back at Sam. He smirked and walked past her. “How is he? Is he really like your mom described him?” Emily sighed.

“Yeah.” she lied. “He- He was in law enforcement, that’s- that’s how I got this job.” Emily looked at Sam and Dean discussing with the doctors across the clinic.

“Was? Is he-”

“Yeah, he passed away a few weeks ago. He…” Crap. She thought. I didn’t think of a cause of death. But it was then Sam looked at her through the glass, pointed to his heart and then went back to his conversation. “Heart issues,” said Emily.

“Oh my god-” Pam hugged her again. “I’m so sorry, Em! It must be-”

“Yeah, it’s…” she trailed off. “Sorry, my- my colleagues are calling me.” She pointed at Sam. Pam turned. “It’s nice seeing you again.” Emily smiled. That wasn’t a lie. Seeing someone she used to be friends with was actually nice. As long as she didn’t get hurt.  Sam and Dean walked out the room and gestured at Emily to follow them. They entered a room.

“So?” said Emily. “Got anything?”

“We have no idea,” said Dean. “I am going to the closest town, I'll try my luck with the phones and call Bobby. Sam, you stay here.” Dean looked at Emily. “You, instead...” He trailed off for a long second. “...Nah. you are coming with me,” he said. Emily looked back at Sam for a second, then silently followed Dean out the building.

“Why are you so quiet?” Asked Dean, a few minutes later. “Is it because I yelled at you? Come on, I- I said sorry, okay?”

“I’m not quiet,” said Emily. “I Just- I don't have anything to say.”

“You?” Dean raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure you're okay?” Emily rolled her eyes.

“No, Dean- I am not okay! We just killed my ex boyfriend's dad! He- He drove me to dance rehearsals and he brought us to get pizza after comps! And you shot him!” she complained. “And- and apparently you're about to shoot my ex boyfriend too, so- No! I am not okay!”

“You're the one who wanted to come, okay? And I told you it was a bad idea! I even told Sam, but he said ‘no, Dean, she's an adult, she gets to choose’.” Dean scoffed. “You're not an adult. You're not even old enough to-”

“Jesus- Okay, I get it,” said Emily. “I’m an idiot kid who can't even shoot straight.”

“That's- That's not what I said. You're a good shot. Even dad said that.” Dean didn't move his eyes off the road. “You're Just- stressed. That's all.”

“Will I ever not be stressed in our line of work?” Emily asked. Dean shook his head, then saw a road block approach and rolled down the window. Emily adjusted herself in her seat. She recognized some of the locals guarding it and among them, there was Jake. When a man approached their car, something didn't feel right.

“Sorry, road's closed,” he said.

“I can see that, what's wrong?” asked Dean, hand already sliding to his gun.

“Quarantine.”

“For what?” Emily asked. Dean looked back at her and scowled, because her- as always- would rather she stayed quiet.

“I don't know. County sheriff called,” the man answered. Emily moved her hand towards the gun Dean had given her, too. “Say, why don't you come out here, we'll talk a little.” When Dean refused, the man tried to drag him out of the car. Suddenly, Dean switched to reverse and started driving away, the man at road block holding on to the open window. Emily used her left hand to move Dean out of the way, pinning him against the seat, aimed and quickly shot the stranger. Blood splattered everywhere, but Dean continued to drive, cleaning his eyes off the blood.

“See? Good shot,” he said. A couple of minutes later, someone jumped in front of the car, pointing a gun at them. Dean stopped the car and extended his arm to avoid Emily from hitting her head on the dashboard. “Son of a-” Emily moved her hair out of the way and looked ahead, where Mark was standing.

“Get out of the car!” he yelled. Emily hesitated, hand going back to the gun. “Out of the car!”

“Okay, okay-” said Emily, slowly standing out of the car.

“Easy there, big guy, okay?” said Dean. Before leaving the car, Dean looked at Emily and nodded at the gun she was hiding in her overalls. She waited for Mark to look at Dean, she took it and aimed it at Mark.

“Put it down,” she said, nodding at Mark’s gun. “Lower it, now!” As Mark pointed the gun towards Emily, Dean took his own gun and pointed it at Mark.

“Are you one of them?” asked the man, nodding in the direction of the road block.

“No,” said Emily. “Are you?”

“No.”

“How do we know you’re not lying?” asked Dean, fingers sliding towards the trigger.

“How do you know you’re not?”

“Okay-” said Dean. “Let’s take it easy. Nobody is shooting anybody.” Mark lowered his gun. Dean and Emily looked at each other and did the same thing.

“Mark, do you know what's going on?” Emily sighed.

“I don’t,” answered the man.

“Whatever it’s happening, we have people acting weird and the only way out of town is blocked,” said Dean.

“What if I don’t believe you?” said Mark. Emily rolled her eyes, starting to get restless. The people from the roadblock might be trying to follow them.

“Look- you see this blood?” she said, pointing to her soaked overalls. “I just shot one of those things in the head,” she said. “Want to try and give it a go yourself?” Mark frowned and looked at her.

“Okay, kid.” he said. “But no sudden moves,”

When Emily entered the clinic, Sam walked towards her, alarmed.

“What happened?!” he asked. Emily waited for Mark to be out of earshot before answering.

“They blocked the road. I- I shot one of them,” she said. Sam seemed about to ask something, but she interjected. “Did you find out anything?”

“Doc thinks it's a virus,” he said, worried.

“Okay and what do you think?” asked Dean, who'd stepped inside after Emily and kept Mark in her sight. He cleaned his face with his shirt.

“I think she's right. I think they are trying to infect other people with blood to blood contact. ” Emily, Dean and Sam went silent. She looked at herself. The glass from the window had cut her. If it was blood to blood, she was done for. Just as Dean was about to speak, they heard Mark's voice.

“They’ve got one here! In here!” Dean looked at Sam and then ran towards Mark. Emily tried to follow him, but Sam stopped her.

“Come here,” he said, dragging her towards an empty room. “I don’t think you should be around for now.”

“Wait- what?!” she said, stopping in the middle of the doorstep.

“Listen, you might be infected,” he whispered. They stopped talking, hearing some arguing on the other side of the clinic. Emily swallowed “I think it's best if you-.”

“Sam, no!” she complained. “You’re not going to lock me up like some animal!”

“I’m just trying to keep you safe,” Sam answered. A gunshot was heard through the clinic and Emily flinched. She tried to take a deep breath, but it came out shaky.

“Sam,” she said. “Don't leave me here.” Sam looked behind him, his eyes lingering on the door Dean had entered.

“Everything will be fine, okay?” Just as Sam was to close the door and leave, someone knocked on the glass door to their left, screaming for help. Emily recognized the voice. It was Duane. Sam opened it while Emily was still at the same doorstep. He quickly gazed at her before thanking Sam. Two seconds later, he looked back at her, surprised.

“Wait- Emily?!” The girl didn't have the time to raise a hand to say hello to him, that he was already hugging her.

“Right- Good to see you too, Duane,” she said, patting him on the back. Leave it to the people in Rivergrove to hug her more in one day that she'd been hugged in years.

“What are you doing here?!” he asked. Emily hesitated for a second, looking at Sam.

“You know, I-” she tried to explain, but Duane's questions were faster than she could answer.

“And what is going on?”

“I-” Emily was interrupted by Dean and Mark stepping into the hallway with the doctor. Dean grabbed Duane from the arm and dragged him towards the room they came from.

“Doc, give him a good once-over, would you?” he said. Sam gave Emily a light push and closed the door in front of her. At that point, she was almost sure of it: she was infected. She was going to turn into a monster and she was going to die. Dean was probably going to be the one to do it. He probably had been waiting for the opportunity to get rid of her for years. Unless she didn't give him that satisfaction. Unless she killed herself first. Point was, she didn’t even have a gun, she’d forgotten it in the car in the rush to get back to the clinic. A sharp, intense pain went through her upper chest, as if someone was cutting her. She looked at herself in a dirty mirror that was lying in a corner, but there was nothing there. The pain vanished as it had appeared, and three gunshots echoed through the clinic.

That was it. The vision had come true. Dean had killed Duane. It was the same three gunshots she'd heard in the vision. She heard muttered voices arguing for several minutes, but couldn’t figure out what they were saying. Then, she heard the door open. She was leaning on the side of a bookshelf, which meant when whoever came through the door, couldn’t see her. She didn't care enough to make her presence known. She remained sitting on the floor, The door closed and Emily heard someone sniff.

“Wish we had a deck of cards, or… a foosball table or something,” said Dean's voice.

“Dean, don't do this,” said Sam. “Just get the hell out of here.”

“No way,” said Dean's voice. Emily frowned. She’d heard gunshots. Duane was supposed to be dead. So, what the fuck was going on? She didn't have time to formulate an answer because Sam appeared next to her. Emily stood up and sat down on a chair. Dean looked at her and frowned.  “Are you- What are you doing here?” He asked.

“The window from earlier, it- it definitely cut me. And then there was the guy in the car.” Dean sighed and crossed his arms. “What’s going on?”

“Pam,” said Sam. “She was infected.” Sam pulled down the collar of his t-shirt and showed her a cut. Emily touched the point she'd felt the pain. “You felt that?”

“Yeah,” Emily sighed and crossed her arms again. “What about you?” She looked at Dean. He sighed and looked away. Sam's lips formed a line. “You- you look clean,” she said. Dean didn't answer. Sam crossed his arms. “Why- why are you here?”

“Dean, you should go,” said Sam.

“And?” Dean leaned on the wall behind him. Emily frowned.

“Dean, what- just go! You're not infected, just…” she said, pointing to the door. When Dean didn't move or react, Emily huffed. “You- You're a hypocrite!” she yelled. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Emily, please-” he said, trying to stop her, but she ignored him.

“All this time- you've been a fucking asshole about me and- you benched me because ‘I don't let suicidal people hunt’, right?!” she said, mocking his voice. “And now you do this?”

“What? Jealous?” he asked. Sam looked at Dean and raised his hands.

“Dean!” he called. “Can you not?!”

“She started it!” Dean complained.

“And you're almost thirty, you should end it!” Sam yelled.

“I haven't started anything!” Emily said, talking over Sam. Dean shook his head. “You’re just an asshole to me, all the time!”

“Me? No, no, no,” Dean said. “You're a bitch, that's all there is to it!”

“GUYS!” yelled Sam. Emily and Dean stopped talking. “Can you not do this? At least this once?!” Emily rolled her eyes.

“Get the fuck out of here,” said Emily, looking at Dean. He scoffed. “I said get out!”

“You can't force me,” Dean answered with a shrug. Emily walked to Dean and dragged him just enough so that he was in front of her, she opened the door and tried to kick him out. Dean fell to the ground.

“Emily, stop!” Sam called, trying to hold her back. But somehow, he couldn't. Maybe she was already turning.

“Get out!” she yelled at Dean, who was standing back up. “Get on your fucking piece of shit car and leave!” She  pushed him towards the door again.

“Emily-” said Sam, trying again to stop her. She ignored him.

“Stop pushing me,” said Dean. “I’m being serious.” Emily looked at him for a second before pushing him again. “Alright-”

“Dean, don't-” Dean's fist clenched and landed on Emily's face before Sam could step in between them. Emily took a step back, but barely felt anything. She touched her face before trying to hit Dean back, but was stopped by Sam's hands holding her back.

“Stop!” he said. “What- What is wrong with both of you?!” he put his hands up to keep Dean and Emily away from each other.

“What?!” Emily complained. “Are you not even going to try and stop him?!”

“I was trying to!” said Sam. Emily rolled her eyes. She felt the cheek Dean had hit her on starting to swell up, the pain settling in. Sam let go of her and dragged Dean to the opposite corner of the room. Emily walked back to the mirror and looked at her face. Sam said something intelligible and Dean answered.

“Jesus Christ, Dean, you cut me!” she complained. “It's gonna take ages to heal!” Sam looked at her and the message was clear. No telepathy needed. She needed to settle down. Dean looked at Emily for a moment, Sam said something else to him. He rolled his eyes, then leaned on a table.  

“Dean, just tell me what's going on,” said Sam, stepping back. Emily stayed behind him, still inspecting her face in the mirror.

“I’m tired,” said Dean. Emily scoffed.

Emily, please. said Sam's voice. Just this once. Emily rolled her eyes at the mirror.

“I’m tired of the job, of this life.” Dean sighed. “And no, this is not about dad.”

“Sure it's not,” Emily whispered. Sam turned towards her. She ignored him and he went back to Dean.

“Then what?” said Sam. Dean remained silent. He just gave Sam a look. Emily sighed. “It doesn't have to be this way, Dean.”

“Yeah well- I tried.” Dean looked away and tapped his fingers on the table behind him.

“Did you?” Sam crossed his arms. Dean sighed and looked at Emily.

“What?” she said. “What do you want from me?!”

“Nothing.” said Dean. Sam sighed. He dragged his hands through his hair.

“Dean, maybe we-” he tried to say, but Dean shook his head.

“No,” he said. “We promised.”

“Promised what?!” said Emily. “What? What is it that you're not telling me?!” The doorknob clicked and the door opened. The doctor entered the room.

“Dean, pull over,” Sam said. Emily looked up and frowned. They were in the middle of nowhere, and they'd just escaped death by what was probably sheer dumb luck. Either of them was infected. Or they were immune, however the hell that was possible.

“What?” answered Dean, keeping the straight course.

“I said pull over,” Sam repeated. Dean frowned. “We need to talk.” The car slowly came to a halt next to a river. Sam was the first one to rush out of the car. He was so nervous Emily could feel his emotions crawl in the back of her neck. Those were the first words anybody had spoken ever since the doctor told them the virus had disappeared from Sam’s blood. Dean left the car without even looking at Emily and a moment later, as Emily was closing her bag, Sam knocked on the window. “You coming or what?” he asked. Emily rolled her eyes, folded the front seat and stepped out. She leaned on the fence that was dividing them from the river. Dean did the same, but faced Sam instead of the river. Somehow, he was holding three beer bottles in his hands and handed one to Emily. Sam stood in the middle of them and refused the beer.

“So. Last night. You want to tell me what the hell you were talking about?” he asked Dean looked away.

“What do you mean?” he asked. Trying to play dumb was probably the worst strategy against Sam.

“What do I mean? I mean you said you were tired. And that it wasn't just because of dad.”

“Forget it,” said Dean. Emily felt her nerves tense up, as well as Sam's frustration.

“Forget it?!” she repeated, scratching her neck so hard she was almost slapping herself. “Forg- Dean, you can’t pull that crap and then say forget it!”

“Come on man, I thought we were going to die, you can't hold that over me.” Dean said, rolling his eyes. Emily scoffed.  

Emily, can we not? said Sam’s voice. She rolled her eyes and rummaged in her pockets for cigarettes. Sam frowned, but didn’t say anything. He turned to Dean and gave him the look. And once again, Emily had no idea what it meant.

“What if I don't want to talk about it?” said Dean. Sam remained silent for a second and sighed. He put his hands on his waist.

“I’ll tell her,” said Sam. Dean’s entire body tensed up. Emily turned.

“Tell me what?” she asked. Dean rolled his eyes and pushed away from the fence. “Sam, tell me what?!”

“There’s a reason Dean treats you like crap,” said Sam. Dean looked at him. Another look. Emily rolled her eyes.

“Look-” said Dean. “I can’t tell you. And we can’t tell her either.” Emily frowned.

“Tell- Tell me what?! What’s going on?!” asked Emily, pushing off the fence. “Just-”

“Dean,” said Sam. “What the hell is going on man? Why can’t-”

“Because I promised dad I wasn’t going to.” Dean sighed and crossed his arms. Emily took a draw of cigarette and scoffed. “Something to say about dad?” said Dean.

“Oh, trust me. Lots of things.” Emily looked at Dean, then at Sam. “But it’s probably better if I shut the fuck up.” Sam shook his head.

“Look- I’m your brother. I’m just trying to lighten the load for you.” said Sam.

“You don’t need to do that,” Dean sighed. Emily rolled her eyes and silently leaned back on the fence. Nobody was going to tell her what the hell was going on. It was all about Dean. It was always all about Dean. That thought earned her a scowl from Sam, but she ignored it.  Nobody said anything for what felt like hours- but was probably just minutes. The faint sound of water rushing behind them filled the silence until Dean spoke again.

“Okay, I- Before dad died, he- he said something,” said Dean. Emily threw away the butt of her cigarette. She looked at Sam. “He said I- I had to look out for you and Emily.” Emily frowned.

“That’s- That’s it?” said Sam. “He must have told you a million times.”

“Not about me,” said Emily, looking at the sparse grass under her shoes. Sam frowned.

“I’m sure he- he - he must have s…” Sam’s voice died down as Dean slowly shook his head. Sam crossed his arms and looked at the floor, too.

“He also said that I had to save you, or…” Dean sighed. Emily waited a couple of seconds for him to finish the phrase.

“Or what?” She asked. Sam looked up.

“Or I’d have to kill you.” Emily looked at Sam for a long second.

Did he just-

Yeah, he did.

What the hell?

“Guys,” said Dean. “No freaky mind games, okay?” Emily and Sam exchanged one more look and sighed.

“Dean, what-” Sam hesitated. “Save us from what?!”

“I don’t know. He just said I had to.”

“Do you think it- it has something to do with the demon?” Asked Emily. “And those plans he told you and Sam about?” Dean shrugged.

“Dean, why didn’t you tell us?” Sam frowned. “You-”

“Dad begged me not to.” said Dean. Emily scoffed.

“Jesus Christ, Dean- screw what dad said!” She said. “If I’m supposed to go dark side or something- I think I should know!” Dean rolled his eyes. “For all we know it could already be happening and- and- I don’t know, maybe that’s the reason I’m the way I am!” Dean crossed his arms and Sam pinched his nose. “Wait,” said Emily, a realization coming upon her. “Is… Is that-”

“No.” said Sam, way too quickly to be credible. “Definitely not.”

“Then what?!” Emily looked at Sam. He looked at Dean.

“We should tell her,” said Sam. For a second Emily thought she was going to lose her mind over whatever it was that they knew and she didn't. Dean sighed and walked back to the car. He took out John’s journal and opened it. He gave Emily a letter. It looked exactly like the letter Emily had found in her house after her mother died. That letter was the reason she went to John Winchester: it told how her mother was actually a “retired” hunter and that John would take care of her. That looked like the same kind of paper, just not addressed to Emily, but addressed to John. Emily opened it.

John.

I hope this letter never has to see the light of day. But if it does, I’m dead. The reason you are receiving this letter is that our time together was more to me than just a case. I got pregnant. I never told you because I knew I didn’t  matter to you as much as you mattered to me. My Uur Your Emily is going to look for you. I’m sorry you have to find out this way. I know you have kids of your own, so I hope you can accept her into your life.

I raised her as normal as possible, as far away from this life as I could. But if you’re reading this, it means my past has caught up with me. I’ve been doing research (I guess the Life never leaves you for good) about the thing that you’re looking for.
It’s a demon. This is the big, scary stuff we’re talking about.
I met that demon a long time ago, before you and I ever met.
He told me he could help me get out of hunting. He could get me a normal life. I know you do this for revenge, but I was raised like this. I didn’t know any better, so I accepted. He promised me an out - eventually - said that it would come when it was time. He said he could make sure I had a normal, suburban, picket fence life. And in exchange? He was going to come by, just once, if I ever had a baby. He said he wasn’t going to hurt my kid, that I had to let him come, and nothing bad was going to happen.

He was true to his words. He came when Emily was six months old. I saw him through the nanny cam. I don’t think he knows I saw him, but he gave her a bottle of his own blood. He muttered something about building an army.

I got scared. I let him do it. I was scared for months he’d turned her into one of them, but Emily’s eight now.  She’s the calmest, smartest kid in her class. We’re putting her in middle school soon. Four years ahead.

I hope think you’d be proud.

I hope this letter helps with your mission, John, so that you can finally rest and let your boys be just boys. Maybe she and Sammy could go to school together.

I hope you’re okay,

tara

Emily folded the letter back up. She didn’t dare to look at Dean as she felt a wave of nausea get to her just by thinking of drinking demon blood. She stumbled back to the fence and leaned over to vomit. Sam moved her hair out of the way.

“Are you okay?” he asked. Emily weakly nodded. She folded her arms on the fence and placed her head on them.

“You’ve known all this time?” she asked. Emily saw Sam nod out of the corner of her eye. “Jesus, what-” She gagged, trying to keep herself from vomiting again. “So- so I was right! There's a reason I'm always- always-”

“I- We- We don’t know, kid,” he said. “But, uhm- Dad thought that the demon came back for your brother and your mother tried to stop him.” Emily moved her hair out of her face again and cleaned her mouth with the back of her sleeve. “That’s- That’s how she died.”

“So what you’re saying is- I’m due to become some sort of demonic soldier?! Is that what dad wanted you to save me from?!” asked Emily. Dean and Sam exchanged a look. “Sam!”

“I- I- I don't-”

“And if that's the reason, does it mean the same thing happened to you? I mean, what the hell is going on?!” Sam raised his eyebrows. He looked at Dean.

“No.” said Dean. “No, don't- these things are unrelated, okay? We don't have proof that-” Emily pushed herself away from the fence.

“Unrelated! Our mothers died the same way! My brother was six months old, okay?! It-”

“I said it's unrelated!” Dean repeated.

“Alright, let's look into this!” Emily complained. “If you're so sure, why-”

“No,” said Dean. “We should lay low, maybe- I don't know, take a break? Go see the Grand Canyon, and- We can take that trip to Broadway, y-”

“Why- What- No!” yelled Emily. “We need to look into this, we-”

“Dad said-”

“Screw what John said!” Emily screamed. “He's dead, Dean! He doesn't have any power over us! Not anymore! I’m not going to follow a dead man's-” A moment later, Emily felt Dean's hands on her overall and she was pushed against a tree.

“Don't talk about dad like that,” he said. Emily looked at him. as Sam hurried to divide the two.

“Is that letter the reason you treat me like this?” said Emily, shoving Sam away as soon as she was free from Dean’s hold. “You think I’m one of them? You think I'm a monster?” Dean didn't answer. Sam dragged him away and Emily used the tree to hold herself standing, feeling her breath grow shorter by the second. It was panic attack, at probably the worst possible moment. If she had to fight with Dean she needed to think straight. She felt her cheeks go numb and her hands starting to tingle. The only sound she could hear was her heart beating in her ears. Sam was in front of her, he was saying something, but her mind was looping through the words she'd read. Demon blood. One of them. Monster. She was a monster.

“Emily!” Called Sam's voice. She looked up at him. “Listen to me. You're not- You're not a monster.” Emily looked around. Dean was gone. “Dean's in the car.” Emily frowned. Was Sam hearing everything she was thinking? “Pretty much, yeah. Happens a lot when you're upset.” Emily closed her eyes and took the deepest breath her body let her. Sam placed one hand on her shoulder.

“Sam, why-” she tried to say. “Why is this-”

“It's okay, kid, take a breath, okay?” Sam said. “Come on, I’ll sit with you in the back.” Sam tried to walk away, but Emily didn't follow him.

“Sam?” she called. Sam turned. “Does Dean think I’m a monster?” Sam walked back towards Emily. He sighed.

“I- I think he's scared you could be, yeah.” he admitted. Emily's eyes filled with tears.

“I’m not.” she said. “I- I’m not, right?”

“You’re not.”

That night, Emily was shaken awake by Sam. She tried to mumble something and hide under her pillow, but it was yanked away from her. Emily opened her eyes and saw Sam was holding both his and her backpack. He signaled her to not speak and nodded towards the door. Confused and still half asleep, she followed him outside the motel room.

“Sam, what are we doing? Why do you have my backpack?” she asked, putting on her jacket.

“Dean doesn't want to look into this whole thing, so we'll do it ourselves,” he said. Emily frowned.

“Really?” she asked. Sam nodded.

“Unless you’d rather stay here with Dean?” he asked.

“Fuck no- let's go.” Emily took two steps forward, then stopped. Sam stopped another couple steps later and turned. “We’re not taking the Impala, right? Dean’s going to fucking murder us.” Sam huffed.

“No, we-” he sighed. “We’re going to steal a car. Ever done that before?” Emily shook her head. “Well, it’s time you learn. Come on.”

Emily entered Harvelle’s and looked around. She’d heard Sam and Dean talk about it, but she’d never been there herself.

“What is this place?” she asked. Sam smiled and took off his jacket.

“Roadhouse ran by Ellen. She's a friend, she'll know how to help,” he said. Emily looked around and saw a few groups of people around the bar, all talking animatedly at their own tables.

“Is everyone here a hunter?” asked Emily. Sam shrugged.

“I guess,” he said. Ellen appeared behind the counter and Sam raised his hand to say hello. He sat on a stool. Emily did the same.

“Sam,” said Ellen. “And Emily, I’m guessing?” She crossed her arms. Before Emily could smile and say something, Sam was already talking again.

“You don’t seem surprised to see us,” he said.

“Your brother’s been calling,” said Ellen. Emily rolled her eyes. “He’s worried sick.”  

“Oh is he now?” said Emily. Ellen chuckled. “A little late for that.”

“Yeah- He was right about your attitude,” said the woman. “What’s going on between you guys?” Emily looked at Sam, who sighed and hurried to change the topic.

“So uh- How's Jo?” he asked. Ellen sighed and threw the cloth she was using to clean on the counter.

“Well, I don't really know,” she said. She turned to pour Sam a beer. “I ain’t seen her in weeks. She sends postcards.” With a thump, Ellen placed the beer in front of Sam. Then she reached under the counter and clicked open a can of coke. She placed it in front of Emily, who raised her eyebrows and tried to complain.

“Wait- What happened?” said Sam, leaning further on the counter and grabbing the beer.

“Well.” Ellen sighed. “After she worked that job with you- she decided she wanted to keep on hunting.” Emily silently listened, trying not to look too disappointed in her beverage.

Sam. She thought. Sam scratched his neck and seemed to shiver, immediately sitting straighter on his stool. Who’s Jo?

Ellen’s daughter. She worked a job with us when- when dad died.

“I said ‘not under my roof’.” said Ellen, cleaning the counter. “And she said… fine.” Emily turned towards Sam. He sighed. Ellen cleared her voice. “So… Why did you come here?”

“So,^[d] while Ash is working, wanna play pool?” said Emily, seeing the pool table was finally free. Sam shrugged and nodded.

“I guess it can't hurt.” They approached the pool table. Emily rearranged the balls in their triangular shape and passed a cue to Sam. “You break.” As they started playing, Emily’s phone started ringing for probably the hundredth time that day, showing Dean’s name on the screen. She exhaled and shoved it back in her pocket.

“Is it Dean again?” asked Sam, moving away to let Emily play. She made her move and stood back.

“Yup.” Emily made her move in silence.

“Can I ask you something?” Sam asked, leaning on the table. Emily shrugged and nodded. “I know why Dean acts like an asshole, but… what about you?”

“Sam, can we not? I’m trying to have fun here,” she said, not looking at him.

“I’m just saying- I can hear your thoughts. You're not an asshole.” said Sam. “So, why?”

“He's the one that started it,” said Emily. Sam looked at her from the pool table. He took his shot and stood back up.

“That’s not what he told me,” he said. Emily didn't take her turn and she looked at Sam. “He said- He said he tried, at first, but you always pushed him away.”

“So, Dean, this is your sister,” said John. “Her name's Emily.” Dean looked up from what looked like scrambled homework.

“Hey!” said Dean with a smile. “Did you come all the way from Portland?” Emily nodded while staring at her shoes. “You must be starving. I- I have some leftover pizza from yesterday, do you want some?” Emily walked past him.

“I- I don't know. I don't remember.” said Emily. Sam crossed his arms. “I- I was still… You know-”

“Alright- first day in your new school- are you excited?” Dean asked, handing her her backpack from the back seat.

“Yeah- whatever,” whispered Emily. “Am I supposed to steal my lunch or what?” Dean looked at her and frowned.

“Did dad not give you-”

“No.”

“Alright, I- wait-” Dean contorted in his seat to try and take out his wallet. He opened it and glanced at it. He sighed and took out a five dollar bill. “I- Sorry, that's all I have. I’ll hustle some pool tonight and get you some more for tomorrow, okay?” Emily rolled her eyes and walked out of the car without saying a word.

“Emily, I know you remember.” said Sam. “I- I just want to know why.”

“How was school?” asked Dean with a smile.

“Sucked.” Emily slammed the car door and threw her backpack in between her legs. She took out her notebook. “I have to do homework.”

“Are you like- good at this stuff?” said Dean, turning on the car engine. “Sam's a straight up genius. Are you that good?” Emily ignored him and started solving her AP calculus exercises. “That looks like some complicated stuff.” said Dean at the first red light. “I was never good at math.”

“Figured,” whispered Emily. “Look- John will want me to train all night- Do you mind shutting the fuck up?” Dean frowned and turned his attention back to the road.

“No, Sam- listen to me. Dean was always a piece of shit.”

“Hey.” said Dean, pointing the flashlight on the ground and standing next to Emily. “You should come back inside for the night. You've been out here shooting targets for hours.”

“Not now. I have to practice if I want to stop sucking at shooting.” she said. Dean put his hands in his pockets and looked at Emily. She hit the first target, the second target and the third target. She missed the fourth target. Dean walked in the dark and picked the last target up. He moved it a foot closer.

“What are you doing?!” asked Emily. “John said-”

“Not to move the targets? It's a trick. You're supposed to know that gun doesn't shoot that far.” said Dean. Emily sighed. “You're a good shot. Stop beating yourself up.” Emily silently waited for Dean to move out of the way, and then shot all the four targets. “See?”

“I didn't need your help.” said Emily. “I could have figured it out.”

“Or you were going to stay here all night- miss first period, and be a bitch all day because school sucked.” he said. Emily rolled her eyes.

“I don't know what you think you're doing- I don't know if you think this is helpful or- whatever- it's not. Leave me alone.”

“Emily, you…” Sam trailed off. “He wasn't a dick. I think you were just scared.” he said. Emily sighed and played her turn. “That's- that's normal. But you need to sort this out with him.

“No.” said Emily. “I- Look, you weren’t there, okay? He was a dick. He… He never defended me with dad. John screamed at me and… and…”

“That’s the last time you make that mistake, I’m telling you!” yelled John. He slammed the beer bottle back on the table. Emily flinched. “I’m tired of you! You never learn!”

“Dad, I-”

“Don’t call me dad! Not until you keep fucking up like that!” said John. Emily closed her eyes and did her best not to cry. “And don’t you make a fucking sound! You’re a hunter! And hunters don’t cry!” Emily held her breath in and looked over to Dean. He averted his gaze and pretended not to see John slap her as soon as she released a sob.

“...he was a dick.” said Emily. “And Dean never did anything to stop him.”

“Emily-”

“I said he did nothing!” Sam played his turn and won. He threw the cue on the table. Emily placed her cue down and crossed her arms.

“Emily, that’s not- that’s not what he said to me,” said Sam. Emily felt tears starting to push to fall out of the corner of her eyes. “He… He said he tried to help, but you fought him off.”

Dean rolled his eyes and stood up from his bed.

“Dad.” he said. “Dad, calm down.” Emily touched her cheek. She felt the heat from the slap spread across her face. “She’s just a kid.” Emily’s eyes shot up to Dean. She stood up and stormed out of the motel room. When Dean caught up with her, she was already halfway through the parking lot.  

“Let me go!” said Emily as soon as she felt Dean’s hand on her shoulder. She turned and shoved him away. “I’m not a kid!”

“Emily, you’re-”

“I can take care of myself.”

“He’s full of shit.” said Emily. “Look, I- I know you- You mean well. But he’s just not interested in being a brother to me.” Before Sam could say anything, Ash emerged from the room he had disappeared in, holding a stack of paper.

“That was fast.” said Sam, glancing over at Emily. Ash rolled his eyes.

“Well, apparently, that's my job. Make the monkey dance at the keyboard.” Ellen approached them from behind the counter.

“Just tell us what you got, Ash,” she complained.

“Twelve folks fit the profile: nationwide, born in 83, 90 or 02, mother died in a nursery fire- the whole shebang.”

“Just twelve?” asked Emily. Ash opened up a piece of paper he was holding.

“Sam Winchester,” he said. “That is you. Then, Max Miller, Andrew Gallagher, Scott Carey- dead, these were all born in 83. For the 90’s babies we have Jessica Taylor- dead, Michael Smith- dead, Laura Bennett- dead, Brian Johnson- also dead, Emily Reed- missing, according to police reports,” Emily looked at Sam and huffed. “What?” said Ash.

“That’s… That’s me. I’m Emily Reed,” she said. Ash took a pen and changed something on the piece of paper.

“Alright so- not missing, and also not dead. And lastly, from 02 we have three kids, all dead: Rachel Adams, David Clark, Alex Reed.”  

“So…” said Emily with a sigh. “To recap, we have three- five if we count me and Sam- survivors. Out of all of these?”

“Yup,” said Ash. “Last guy to die, before you ask- Scott Carey, he was stabbed a month ago. Parking lot- fuzz don’t have much.” Sam looked at Emily. She tried to steal his beer but Ellen swiftly slid it out of her hand.

“Try again in like… seven years,” she said. Emily rolled her eyes. “Okay so- I told Dean you were here so I reckon you have about three hours to leave before he shows up.” Sam stood up.

“Alright- Thanks Ellen,” he said. Emily managed to grab one sip of the beer before leaving. Ellen chuckled.

After gathering Scott’s family address, they headed to his father’s house. Emily and Sam lied and said they went to high school with him, and the man seemed happy to let them in and chat.

“Scotty was a good boy,” he said. “He changed a lot since you knew him.”

“What do you mean?” asked Sam, sitting down on the couch next to the man.

“It started about a year ago with these headaches. And then he got depressed, paranoid, nightmares.” Sam glanced back at Emily.

“Nightmares?” he repeated. The man nodded. “Uh, did he ever talk to you about his nightmares? What he saw, or…”

“No, no. He closed up with me. I tried to get him help, but nothing took. He'd just lock himself in his room for days.” Sam sighed. Emily crossed her arms.

“Mister Carey,” she said. “I’m sorry if this is an indelicate question.” The man looked at her. “But you think maybe we could see his room?”

“So, prescription pills and a bunch of yellow eyes obsessively glued to the back of a closet,” sighed Emily, slamming the car door and starting to walk in the motel parking lot. “That’s not upsetting at all.”

“We’ll talk with the doctor tomorrow. Maybe he’ll know something,” Sam said. As they kept walking, Emily started noticing someone was following them.

Sam, behind us.

Yeah, I heard it too. Count of three? Emily nodded. One, two- Emily and Sam turned and grabbed whoever was standing behind them. They shoved her against the motel door. The woman squirmed in terror.

“Please!” she cried.

“Who are you?!” Sam asked. The woman started shaking.

“You're in danger,” she whispered. Sam and Emily looked at each other for a moment before slowly letting the girl go.

“Why were you following us?” asked Emily.

“I- I came to warn you! You- you might blow up soon!” Emily raised her eyebrows.

“Blow up?!” she repeated. Sam looked behind him and sighed.

“Okay, maybe it's better if we talk somewhere more private.” They entered the motel room. The woman paced back and forth in the room, nervous.

“Why don't you take a seat, uh- I don't think I got your name, sorry,” Emily said with half a smile.

“Ava.”

“Alright, Ava, why don't you sit down, I'll bring you a glass of water, okay?” Ava nodded, arms wrapped around her.

I'll try to keep her calm, you ask the questions, okay? She looked at Sam. He nodded and sat down on the bed in front of Ava.

“Okay, look, I know how all this sounds, but I am not insane and I am not on drugs. Okay? I am normal, and this- this is way, way off the map for me.” she said. Emily handed her a glass of water, which spilled a little in Ava's shaky hands.

“All right, all right, just, just calm down. Okay?” said Sam, moving closer to the edge of the bed.

“I'm trying, but-”

“Look,” Emily sighed. “So, my name's Emily…” she said, standing next to Sam. “And he's Sam.” The woman nodded. “Why do you think we're in danger?”

“Yeah, uh, okay, about a year ago I started having these, like, headaches, and just, nightmares, I guess. And I really didn't think much of it until I had this one dream where I saw this guy get stabbed in a parking lot.” said Ava. Emily started reciting all the names from Ash’s list in her head. She'd read it dozens of times on their way to the motel. Nowhere in the list there was an Ava. That thought earned a scowl from Sam.

“When was this?” he asked. Emily pulled out the paper Ash had given them and looked through the names. Just to be sure. But she just wasn’t there. She was either lying on her name, or-

Emily, later.

“Uh, about a month ago,” said Ava. “But, anyway, a couple of days later, I found this.” Ava pulled out a newspaper clipping from her jacket. It was the piece on Scott's death. Sam took it and Emily stood behind him.

That’s our guy. She thought. Sam turned towards him and nodded.

“I saw this guy die,” Ava’s voice broke. “Days before it happened.” She started pacing around the room again. “I don't know why, I- I don't know, it's just for some reason, my dreams are coming true. And last night I had another one.” Emily crossed her arms.

“Let me guess, we die,” she said.

“Yeah.” Ava looked towards the ceiling and dried her face. Emily handed her the tissue box.

“How did you find us?” asked Emily.

“I saw you- you had motel stationary so I googled it all and- and- and here I am.” Ava crossed her arms and started to nervously tap her foot on the floor.

Sam, something’s wrong.

Why?

She’s not on the list.

And? You think she’s lying?

Maybe she’s not, but- she’s not on the list! Sam turned to her, raised eyebrows. Look, I’m not saying don’t listen to her-

Maybe we just got the criteria wrong, or- or Ash did a bad job, you know?

What if-

“What is this?” asked Ava, confused. Emily realized she was moving her hands as if she was audibly talking with Sam. “Some sort of twin secret language?” Ava backed up towards the door and put her jacket back on.  “I'm sorry, I never should have come, I'll just-”

“No, no- It's okay, we believe you.” said Sam as Emily crossed her arms, nervous. Ava stopped and turned towards Sam. “Of course you- you must be one of us.” He pointed at him and Emily. Ava frowned.

“Sorry, one of- one of who?”

“One of the psychics. Like us. Look, Ava, we have visions too, all right? So, so- so we're connected.” Ava laughed for a second, then stopped, realizing he was serious.

“Okay, so, you're nuts,” she said. “That's great.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Emily whispered, sitting on the bed. Sam scowled at her again.

“Ava, did your mother happen to die in a house fire?” He asked. Ava sighed.

“No, my mother lives in Palm Beach!”

Aaaand the plot thickens… Well done, Sam.

Give me a break, okay? I’m trying to figure out what’s going on. He gestured at him and she rolled her eyes. Ava scoffed.

Yeah, doing a great job, champ. You think you can get her to not call the cops on us?

You told me to ask the questions, what-

I did, but-

No, you know what, Dea-

“Hello?” said Ava. “You are being weird again- listen, why don’t you just leave town? Please? Before you blow up?”

“Not happening,” said Emily. She stood back up and started making coffee in the motel’s kitchenette.

“Oh, god, why not?” asked Ava. Sam sighed.

“Ava, there’s something going on here. There’s other people like us and- well, we’re all part of something.” Ava slapped her hands on her thighs.

“Okay, you know what?” she said. “Screw you and your weird secret twin language!” She looked between Emily and Sam. “Because I'm a secretary from Peoria and I'm not part of anything! Okay? Do you see this?” Ava showed her hand, where she was wearing an engagement ring. “I am getting married in eight weeks. I am supposed to be at home addressing invitations, which I am way behind on, by the way!” Emily leaned on the counter behind her and crossed her arms, glancing at Sam who was trying not to look rude and attempting a polite smile. “But instead, I drove out here to save your weirdo ass. But if you just want to stay here and die, fine. Me? I'm due back on Planet Earth.” Sam turned to look at Ava walking towards the door.

“Don't you want to know why this is happening?” he asked. “I mean, don't these visions scare the hell out of you? Because if you walk out that door right now you might never know the truth, Ava.”

The girl looked at him for a second, then turned to Emily, who remained silent. Ava sighed and left. Sam stood up to stop her.

“Sam, let her go,” Emily sighed. “Maybe she's better off.”

Ava had left two hours before and yet, little to nothing had moved in the motel room. Emily had finished making coffee, handed a cup to Sam and they both resumed their research in silence.

“Do you want something to eat?” asked Emily. Sam shook his head. Emily put her hands on her waist.

“Come on, dude- we’ve been together for three days, you haven’t eaten anything,” she said.

“I’m not hungry.” Sam kept looking at his laptop. Emily rolled her eyes.

“Yeah,” she whispered, walking towards her bag. “and the scars on my arms are from hunting.”

“I heard that.” Sam briefly looked at her. “And I said I’m fine.”

“Alright,” said Emily. “Sam- We need to talk about this.” Sam closed his laptop and stood up.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he said, heading for the bathroom.

“Okay.” Emily opened the minifridge that was in the room and took out her dinner leftovers. “Then eat.” She threw the take out box in front of Sam and waited. Sam pushed the food away.

“I said I’m not hungry,” said Sam. Emily felt panic in the back of her head and her neck hitching. That wasn’t her panic. It was Sam’s. She took a deep breath.

“Okay,” she said. “But if you ever decide you do want to talk about it, I’m here, okay?” Sam weakly nodded and went back to his laptop. Somehow, a single thought slipped out of Sam’s mind and reached Emily’s.

She can’t know.

Freeze your brain

From Heathers - The Musical

“This is a bad idea,” said Emily as she and Sam approached Dr. Waxler’s office. He was the doctor who had prescribed Scott the pills they had found in his room. The plan was for Emily to take a fake therapy session as Sam climbed in from the window and stole Scott’s files. “What if he…like- what if he wants to talk about my feelings?” she asked, torturing a strand of hair. Sam huffed.

“It doesn’t have to be real therapy, Emily. You can lie,” he said.

“What if he sees right through me?” Emily adjusted in her chair and sighed.

“Listen dude-” Emily rolled her eyes.

“Not your dude,” she complained.

“Emily, listen. It’s just an hour of talking about your feelings. You’ve done worse.” said Sam. The door behind him opened.

“You must be…” The doctor looked at his notes. “Emily Reed?” Emily looked at Sam, silently begging him to let her leave, to call her whole plan off, but he pushed her towards the doctor's office. “Please, come in.” Emily turned to look at Sam before the doctors closed the door, but her brother was already gone.

Shit. That was all Emily’s mind could elaborate as she sat in the chair in front of Dr. Waxler. His eyes hesitated on her arms, but he didn't say anything. Emily adjusted in her seat and remained silent. She didn't know what to say. What do you even talk about with therapists?  She thought. The doctor looked at her and seemed to study her, making her feel like under a microscope.

“Hello, Emily. I’m Dr. Waxler,” he said after a long silence.

“Hello,” she said, nervous. She crossed her arms in front of her for a moment to try and hide her scars, but then she thought body language and she loosened up her arms. She adjusted herself on the couch again and remained silent.

“So, Emily… Let’s start with you,” said the doctor. “I think you mentioned being new in town, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right. I’m just passing through.” said Emily. It wasn’t a total lie. She was just passing through.

“Okay, why did you decide to seek out therapy right now?” The doctor clicked his pen on the armrest and prepared to write.

“It’s… A lot of reasons,” Emily said. The doctor wrote something down and waited for her to list the reasons. She glared behind him, hoping Sam would appear behind the window. But he didn’t.

“Why don’t you start with the first that comes to mind?” asked the doctor. Emily sighed. She needed to buy more time. She needed to get out the big guns. She needed to talk about her scars.

“Recently,” she said. “I’ve been resorting to self-harm to- uhm- to cope with my problems.” The doctor wrote something down. “I used to be in pre-med so- so I know what this is and I know it isn’t good.”

“I’m guessing you’re talking about your arms,” said the doctor. Emily crossed her arms and nodded. “So- How does it help you, exactly?” Sam silently entered the room from the window and crouched behind the doctor’s desk.

“It- It takes the… the not physical pain away.” She paused. “It’s like rebound sex, but with a lot more blood.” Emily chuckled at her own joke, immediately realizing the doctor was not amused.

“Do you often joke about that sort of thing?”  Emily shook her head and adjusted herself in her seat.

“I don’t- No, I’m sorry, that was a very inappropriate joke, I shouldn’t have said that.” Emily sighed in relief as Sam climbed back out the window. The doctor didn’t lift his eyes off his notes, his pen running faster than Emily’s thoughts.

“It’s okay, Emily, you don’t need to apologize. I was just wondering because… that’s a very heavy topic we’re talking about and you seem very at ease with it.”

“My- my family knows about it,” she said. “We don’t- we don’t really talk about it, but they know, so… I don’t really hide it.”

“Why not talk about it with them if they know?” the doctor asked.

“They… they wouldn’t understand.”

When she finally came out of the doctor’s office twenty minutes later, Sam was waiting for her in the car they had stolen. He didn’t speak as she entered.

“Did you get it?” she asked. He showed her the folder and started driving, frowning. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Just-” Sam trailed off. Emily crossed her arms, nervous.

“What is it, Sam?” To that question, Sam sighed and traced his face with his hand.  

“I’m worried about you,” he said. “Okay? I- I- You know there’s other ways, right?” Emily scoffed.

“Like what? Should I try the Dean way? Get drunk and bang chicks?” She crossed her legs on the seat. “Or should I try the Sam way?” Sam nearly lost control of the car.

“What’s the Sam way?” he asked, panic seeping through his mind and into Emily’s, together with a quick she knows. She rolled her eyes. She scratched her neck.

“Damn right I fucking know,” she said, “It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

“Shit…” Sam closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “Okay, listen. I tend to lose my appetite, okay?” Seeing Sam trying so hard to justify himself was as funny as it was ridiculous. Emily crossed her arms. “It’s nothing serious, I’m just trying to listen to my body.” Emily raised her eyebrows. “You know, hunger cues and such.”

“Sure. Whatever,” said Emily. With a sigh, she reached in the backseat to get the doctor’s recorder.

“Emily, I’m serious,” said Sam. “Don’t go around telling Dean I have some eating disorder because a, that’s not true and b, i would never hear the end of it, okay?” Emily opened the notes.

“Never mentioned eating disorders, but okay, hunger cues.” Emily took out a notebook from her backpack and started listening to the audio recordings of Scott’s therapy.

“It started a little over a year ago. Migraines, at first. Then I found I could do…stuff. I have this ability. When I touch something, I can electrocute it if I want,” recited Emily a while later, in the motel, reading from her notes, as Sam tapped his pen on the table. “And also…He, the yellow eyed demon, has plans for me. He says there's a war coming. That people like me, we're going to be the soldiers. Everything's about to change.” Sam frowned.

“I know. That’s bad.” said Emily. As Sam opened his mouth to answer, a loud bang, followed by the sound of glass breaking, made both the siblings jump out of their chairs and fall on the floor. Emily felt a sharp pain in her left cheek and something else exploded. She crawled to the wall beneath the window, trying to remain hidden from what seemed to be a very determined sniper. Another shot was heard through the room and the table exploded in pieces.

They waited, minute after minute, before Sam had the courage to turn back and look around outside the window. As the police sirens started to be heard in the distance, they quickly gathered their things and fled the scene.

“I think the shot came from there,” said Sam, pointing to a very specific roof.

“Right. But why? That’s honestly more pressing to me,” asked Emily, still nervous, shaking away the glass from her clothes. She leaned on a nearby car, her legs shaking so much they were barely keeping her standing.

“I don’t know, I-” Sam turned to look at her. “Are you okay?”

“No!” she said. “I almost got my brains shot out!” She pointed to her cheek, where a long burn mark caused by the bullet flying very close to her face, laid next to several glass cuts. Sam rushed back towards her.

“Let me see that.” said Sam, moving her face to the side to see the mark better. He touched it.

“Ouch!” she complained, moving his hand away from her face. “Sam, I’ll be alright.”

“Your voice is saying something but your whole body is saying the opposite,” said Sam. Emily rolled her eyes.

“What? I’m scared, sue me!” she said. Sam took out his phone. “Who are you calling?”

“Dean. We need backup on this.” As the phone started ringing, Sam offered his hug to Emily. Fighting against her body shaking, Emily didn't lean into it. Sam sighed, moved his arm away and moved the phone form being stuck between his face and his shoulder to his hand. His eyes lit as he heard the sound of Dean answering the call. “Dean!” said Sam. “Yeah, look… I’m in Indiana, Lafayette… You do?... Yeah, I'm sorry. Look, right now there's someone after me and Emily… I don't know, that's what we need to find out. Where are you? Y-Yeah. Sure.” Sam’s expression became more and more worried as he closed the call.

“Sam?” she called, taking a step back. Sam looked at her and remained silent for a moment. “What?”

“Dean said funkytown.” Sam looked around and then started walking towards the car.

“Shit,” said Emily. John had insisted she learned over twenty different safe words with different meanings, but that was the first time one was ever used. “Did he say where?”

“5637 Monroe Street,” Sam said.

“Alright, let’s get ready.” Emily followed Sam.

“Are you sure? Maybe you should-” He turned for a moment and then started rummaging in his pocket to find the car keys.

“...go back to the motel and wait?” she asked. “Sure, so they can come and kill me, how smart of you.”

As they approached the old, abandoned building, it started to become more real: it was a trap. Whoever wanted them dead was in there. Maybe Ava’s vision was coming true. Emily thought it and she knew Sam was thinking the same, his thought spiral getting louder and louder in her head as they approached the place.

“We’ll be okay, right?” she asked before entering the building.

“Of course,” Sam answered, nervous. He opened the door and looked in.

Alright, you remember what Ava said? There is a locked door. We try to open it, we’re dead. Emily looked at Sam and nodded. She pointed to another door.

That must be it. Sam gestured at her to try and go around it. All Emily found was a hole in one of the cardboard walls. She looked through it and saw a cable going from the locked door to some sort of explosive device in the middle of the room. That's when she remembered something Sam had told her.

Sam, when you were going against Azazel, you told me he asked you to-

Move the gun with my mind? Yeah, but I couldn’t.

Well, what if I can?

Emily-

Maybe he wasn’t lying, maybe we just have to try. Sam looked at her and sighed. Just… You know- Going on intuition.

Be careful. Sam reluctantly walked to the door and picked it. Then he walked backwards, until he reached Emily in the opposite corner of the room.

Are you sure about this? Emily looked at him. She wasn't. But she has to try. She focused all her thoughts on the door handle. She imagined it moving downwards and slowly pulling it towards her. The same headache that always hit her when she had visions started to appear. She closed her eyes, and visualized the door opening. Suddenly the door exploded. She looked at Sam, shocked. His eyes widened, but he moved towards the door. Before she walked through it, Sam stopped her and handed her a gun. When they entered the room, the person holding Dean hostage was turned to the other side, pointing a rifle at him. It wasn’t long until Sam and Emily had both their guns pointed at the man's head.

“Drop the gun,” said Sam. The man slowly turned towards them.

“Aren’t you a clever little duo,” he said.

“Put it down!” Repeated Emily. The headache threatened to make her lose focus. Just a little more, Emily. She said to herself.

“You wouldn’t shoot at me, would you? Because your brother, he thinks you two are some kind of saints. Especially you, little one.” The man pointed at Emily and smirked.

“Yeah? Well, I wouldn't be so sure. I’m the crazy one,” she said. Don’t let him see it. Just a little more.

“See, that's what I said.” With a quick movement, he hit both the siblings. Emily fell to the ground and when she was able to sit back up, saw Sam being overpowered by the man. She struggled to stand back up, her legs weakened by the persistent headache. But when she saw the man taking out a knife and pointing it to Sam, her body moved automatically. She grabbed the rifle, which had fallen on the floor in the scuffle, and used the back of it to violently hit the man on the head, knocking him out. She helped Sam back up.

“All in one piece?” she asked. Sam nodded and cleaned his jeans off the gravel it had gathered off the ground. Emily walked towards Dean. She used the man's knife to cut through the ropes which were keeping him blocked. He looked at her. Emily couldn’t understand what she was seeing on his face: it was a brand new expression. It was almost as if he really thought she was dead and he was relieved to see her. “All good? You gonna have a breakdown?” She asked with a hint of mockery. Dean stood up, regaining his serious face as he took off his gag.

“You know, for a second I thought you were dead.” he said, standing up.

“It’s gonna take a little more than that to get rid of me,” she said.  She felt the adrenaline slowly washing off and her legs starting to weaken again. Sam reappeared behind her.

“Gordon is taken care of,” he said. Emily frowned. She'd heard the name somewhere. “He’s one of us. Bobby’s friend.” he explained.

“Right,” Emily used the chair to hold herself up, her legs starting to feel dead. “Can we go?” she asked. Sam looked at her and nodded. The second Emily stepped outside the building, she heard two shots and instinctively ducked behind a wall.

“Didn’t you take care of him?!” Emily whispered to Sam, who had ducked next to her.

“Give it a second,” answered Sam with a smirk. A second later, the sound of police sirens sounded through the building. Emily frowned. “Anonymous tip.” He explained.

“You're a fine upstanding citizen, Sam,” laughed Dean. The second Emily felt the safety of the car, the last drop of adrenaline that was keeping her together wore off. She kicked away her shoes and crossed her arms, desperately trying to keep a steady breath and fighting back tears. All she could think about was that door opening with just the power of her mind. Sam looked at her through the rearview mirror.

“Are you okay?” he asked. Emily sniffed and nodded.

“What the hell, guys?” said Dean. “What were you thinking, taking off like that?!”

“Not now,” said Sam. Dean rolled his eyes. “This was my idea, okay? We can talk later.”

“You can't keep covering for her,” said Dean, looking at her through the rearview mirror.

“I’m not,” Sam complained. Dean looked at Emily again and shook his head.

“What's going on with you now?” he asked, nervous. Emily ignored him.

“Dean,” Sam rolled his eyes.

“It's just a question!” said Dean and Emily adjusted herself in her seat.

“You want to know what's wrong?!” she said. Sam glared back at her. He didn’t want to tell Dean about how they opened the door, but Emily was way too busy with her own thoughts to care for Sam's. “It’s not just visions and telepathy, that's what's wrong!” Dean glared at her, frowning.

“What?” he asked.

“I set the bomb off without touching it.” Dean nearly lost control of the vehicle for a moment, but Sam grabbed the steering wheel. He gave Dean a look. Emily rolled her eyes.

“Okay,” said Dean. “You know what? Okay.” Emily looked at Sam and frowned. “Yeah- Listen, I heard Gordon. He thinks you're going to become killers, monsters or whatever he says. But- Look at you.” Dean gestures in her direction. “No offense, kid, but you're the farthest thing from a killer I could ever imagine.”

As promised, Emily did not bring up Sam’s problems with food, but had been secretly keeping an eye out for him. That far, she had seen him eat twice. In the span of a month. Just because they were all sitting together and Dean had been bitching about Sam “never being hungry” for two hours. After finding out Ava was dead, Sam had, instead, enjoyed his fair share of alcohol, which led to him trying to get Emily and Dean to get along.

“If you just sat down and talked about it,” he said one night, so drunk he could barely stand. “...you’d find out you actually like each other! Do it, do it now. I’ll close my eyes so I don’t hear you.” Dean seemed to have a good chuckle at the situation, but Emily rolled her eyes and walked right out of the room. Then, one day, she was awakened by Dean’s nervous voice calling her name.

“Emily, wake up!” he said and as soon as he saw she was awake, he walked away. She sat up and saw him frantically filling his bag. “Get ready, we have to go.”

“What’s happening?” Emily turned to where Sam used to be: the other half the bed. But it was empty. “Where’s Sam?” she asked. Dean sighed and threw a flannel on top of his bag.

“Good question. Where is he?”

“I don’t-” Emily rubbed her eyes, still half asleep. “Why are you asking me?”

“He surely hasn’t told me,” said Dean, going back to packing. “You’re the only one he talks to,” Emily slipped out of bed.  

“Jealousy is such a bad look on you,” Dean rolled his eyes and threw her empty backpack at her.

“Okay- I don’t have time for this,” he said. “Do you know where he is or not?”

“Of course not!” Emily complained, grabbing a dirty t-shirt from the shower, where she'd hung it to dry.

“Yeah, right,” Dean rolled his eyes again and closed his bag. “Is he- did he go looking for other psychics?!”

“Dean, I don’t know!” Emily pushed her clothes in her backpack with one hand while dialing Sam’s number on her phone with her other hand. “Come on, Sam-” she whispered as the call went to voicemail. Emily finished packing and Dean pushed her out the door and towards the car. Just as she was about to open the Impala door, a sharp pain hit her- it kind of felt like a brain freeze- and saw Sam.  

“What now?!” asked Dean, starting the car. Emily scowled at him, unable to speak. “Emily-” But Dean’s voice faded. Sam was sitting on a bed, in a motel, somewhere. He was staring numbly at the wall, covered in blood. As she heard Dean’s voice in the distance, Emily saw more details. Motel, a blue building, Twin Lakes, Wisconsin. Room 109. When she finally opened her eyes, chest bent on her knees, Dean was still complaining about something. “...time for it.”

“I know where he is,” said Emily.

“I knew it!” Dean said with a frustrated groan. “Why didn’t-”

“No, Dean! I saw him,” she said. “I had a vision,” Dean remained silent. Emily rolled her eyes and sat down in the car. “Twin Lakes, Wisconsin. It’s a blue motel,” she whispered.

“Finally,” said Dean. Nobody spoke for the rest of the drive. And while usually Dean would ask Emily to change tapes here and then, he didn’t. They listened to the same Metallica album on repeat for three straight hours. Emily stared in front of her, arms crossed, until Dean parked in front of a blue motel. “Is this the one?” He asked. Emily didn’t bother nodding and left the car. She entered the building and started scanning the halls for Sam’s room. She stopped and Dean passed her, mumbling something under his breath and not realizing they were at the right door until after Emily opened the door and entered. Sam was sitting on the bed, in the same exact spot she had seen him in her vision. Emily stood in the doorway.

“Sam?” she called and Sam turned, he didn’t seem surprised. He seemed tired, emptied out.

“Oh, hey,” Sam’s flat tone set off alarms in Emily: something was off. Very much so.  

“Sam, what’s going on?” She walked into the room, Dean closely following, and sat next to Sam, trying to understand if he was hurt by moving his blood soaked shirt. “Are you bleeding?”

“No, no- I don’t think that’s mine.” Emily looked at Dean, who seemed annoyed more than anything.

“Sam, what’s going on?” he asked. Sam didn’t answer. Something was not right. Sam felt off. Sam Radio had rarely sat quieter since the powers had started manifesting, it was usually random thoughts, random songs, images. But as Sam sat on the bed and stared in front of him, Emily felt nothing coming from him. She realized it had been a while since the silence had started. Days, probably.

“I don’t know,” he said. Dean looked at him and his annoyance turned into worry. “I don’t- I don’t remember anything.”

Dean left to ask questions to the motel staff and Emily and Sam remained alone in the room.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked. Sam nodded weakly. Emily walked to the corner of the room and grabbed some clean clothes off of Sam’s bag. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure out what’s going on. Here-” Sam nodded weakly and disappeared into the bathroom. A few minutes later, Dean entered the room again.

“How’s he doing?” he asked. Emily shrugged.

“I don’t know. He hasn’t said a word,” she said.

“What about your telepathy thing?” Dean leaned on the wall next to the door. Emily was about to answer when the sound of the shower stopped. A few moments later, Sam walked out of the bathroom with clean clothes.

“Did you find out anything?” he asked Dean, drying his hair with a towel. He sat next to Emily.

“You checked in two days ago under the name Richard Sambora,” said Dean. “Of course, I think the scariest part about this whole thing is the fact that you're a Bon Jovi fan.” Sam sighed.

“Then how the hell did I get here, Dean? What happened to me?” Sam asked, nervously rubbing his hair with the towel. Dean sighed.

“I don't know. But you're okay, and that's what matters. Everything else we can deal with.”

“Yeah but Dean- What if I hurt someone? Or worse? What if dad was right?”

“Sam, this- this isn’t that.” said Emily, less convinced than she would have liked to be. “I’m sure there’s an explanation.”  

“She’s right.” said Dean. “I didn’t think I would have ever said it, but- She’s right.” Emily crossed her arms. “Let’s not jump the gun, what’s the last thing you remember?” Sam crossed his arms and sighed.

“Just me and Emily, just, in that motel room in West Texas, going out to grab some burgers, and...”

“West Texas?” Emily looked at Dean. “It’s been- what, a whole week?”

“That’s the last thing. Next thing I knew I was sitting here. Bloody. Felt like I'd been asleep for a month.”

“Okay,” said Dean, suddenly moving towards the window. “Retrace your steps. The manager said you left yesterday afternoon and he never saw you come back, so...” He pulled back the curtains, revealing a bloody handprint on the window. Emily released a sigh and looked at Sam. Still, all she could get from his mind was static, almost like their powers went away all of a sudden. Dean put his hands on his waist.  “Alright, let’s get out of here, see if we can figure out what happened.” Emily waited for Dean and Sam to be out the door and closed the door behind her, following Sam outside the motel.

“How did you guys know where I was anyway?” He asked as they walked back the same corridor Emily and Dean had just walked through not more than an hour before.

“I had a vision,” explained Emily. Sam seemed to frown, but didn't say anything. As they arrived out the door, he looked around.

“Recognize anything?” Dean asked. Sam scanned the area with his eyes and hesitated on the garages. He frowned again and touched his pocket. He took out a key and handed it to Dean, eyes widening in surprise.

“Try to open that one.” He pointed to one of the garages. Inside was a car. It was old and ruined, the exact kind of car Dean had taught her to target if she ever needed to steal one. I mean I guess car theft is not that bad, right? She thought, looking at Sam. He didn't turn. He didn't scratch his neck. Emily looked at Dean, but he was busy checking the inside of the car.

“Dude,” he said, picking something up from the bottom of the car. Emily walked closer: he was holding a knife. The backseat was drenched in blood. “What the hell?”

“You think I used this on someone?” Asked Sam. Emily crossed her arms and looked for Dean's gaze again. He ignored her.

“We're not thinking anything,” he said. Emily walked to the other side of the car and crouched next to the open door. She found a pack of cigarettes.

“Really Sam? Since when?!” she asked. Sam looked at her and shrugged. Emily put the cigarettes in her pocket. In the meantime, Dean had found a receipt and he was reading it over.

“Here,” he said. “Gas receipt. Few towns over.”

Emily walked in the store right after Dean, Sam closely following her.

“You getting any, uh, any goosebumps yet? 'God, this looks familiar', deja vu vibes?” said Dean. Sam shook his head. The moment the clerk noticed them, he started yelling.  

“You. Outta here now, I'm calling the cops.” He pointed towards Emily and Sam. Emily pointed at herself, confused.

“You talking to me?” Her mind started to wander around, trying to guess on which occasion she had entered the store and why the clerk would be so angry at her.

“No!” yelled the man. “The tall guy! Jerk comes in yesterday, stinking drunk, grabs a forty from the fridge, starts chugging.” The clerk picked up the phone.

“This guy?” asked Emily, pointing at Sam.

“Not after he whipped the friggin' bottle at my head.”

“This guy?” repeated Dean.

“What, am I speaking Urdu?” The clerk started dialing something on the phone.

“Look, I'm really sorry if I did anything-” said Sam.

“Tell your story walkin', pal.” The man interrupted him. “Po-po will be here in five.” Dean approached him.

“Wait, wait, put the phone down,” he said. “Sam, go wait in the car.” Sam tried to complain and Dean gave Emily a look which she couldn’t decipher, but had to guess it meant get him to the car. Emily pushed Sam out the door.

“Let's go, come on,” she said. Sam reluctantly walked back to the car and leaned on the hood. Emily lit up a cigarette and sighed. She looked at Sam. “What the hell is going on, Sam?!” she asked. He looked at her and his eyes filled with tears. He looked up. “Dude, are you-” Emily sighed. “Disappearing? Smoking? Stealing cars and knifing people? Why?”

“I told you- I don’t remember doing that! I- It’s like I was asleep, I-” Sam dried his face from the tears and pushed off the car.

“And I had to take shit from Dean for it!” said Emily. “All because, what? Why are you doing this?” Sam paced in front of Emily, nervously looking at Dean inside the store.

“I haven’t done anything!” said Sam. “I- You don’t believe me?!” He stopped walking and looked at Emily. She didn’t answer. “Really?! You don’t believe me?” Emily shook her head. “I don’t even get the benefit of the doubt?”

“Oh, come off it! You did the bare minimum of not being a fucking asshole.” Emily crossed her arms. “Just tell me what the hell is going on!” Sam opened his mouth to say something, closed it and resumed walking. He sighed and dried his face again. Dean walked out the store and sat in the driver’s seat. Emily took place in the back.

“What’s wrong with you two?” said Dean, glaring between Sam and Emily. “You having your first fight as a couple?” he smirked. Emily huffed.

“Shut the fuck up, man. Jesus…” she complained, throwing the cigarette outside the window.

“Just asking.” Dean rolled his eyes and started the car.  “Dude said you went north. Anything you remember?” Sam shook his head. “Anything you want to say to me?”

“Dude, why don’t either of you believe me? I don’t know what’s going on!” Dean sighed and looked at Emily through the rearview mirror. She ignored him.

“That’s not… I haven’t said that.” said Dean. “It’s just… Smoking, throwing bottles at people, I mean, that sounds more like Emily- or me- than you,” he said.

“Right.” Sam crossed his arms and looked out the window. He squinted and straightened up.  “Dean, wait.” Dean looked at him. “Turn down that road.”

“What-”

“I don't know how I know, I just do!” said Sam. “Turn that way.” Dean drove into someone’s property. Emily looked around the yard and saw a broken window.

“Okay, Sam- Gig is up. This is not funny anymore. What the hell is going on?”

“Emily, I’m telling you- I don’t fucking know,” Sam said. Emily rolled her eyes and walked towards the house. While Dean and Sam tried knocking on the door, Emily looked around.

“Broken window over here,” she sighed. “And cameras over there.” She pointed to the cameras that surrounded the house. “Whatever you did here, Sam- I’m surprised you’re not on any police scanner right now.” Sam walked behind her and around the corner. He pointed at something. Emily already had a leg inside the window, but she looked behind the corner. On the wall was a fuse box that had been tampered with to disable the alarm. “I was just about to say- I’m surprised there was no alarm,” she said. Emily walked back to the window, where Dean stopped her from entering and went in first. Emily rolled her eyes.

She followed a trail of broken glass and plates to the bedroom and walked next to Dean. When she saw the body, she crouched next to it with Dean, but when he turned it, she almost let out a scream. Dean covered her mouth with her hand and gestured at her to shut up.

“Sorry,” she whispered as Dean set her mouth free. “It’s just…” She pointed at the guy’s cut throat.

“Yeah, I can see that.” said Dean. Emily looked back at Sam. Please tell me you didn’t do it. she thought. But Sam never answered. He sighed and crossed his arms. But somehow, it was like Dean knew exactly what she was thinking. He stood up.

“We don’t know what happened yet, so don’t give me those looks.” He pointed at Sam and Emily.  

“What else do you need?” Sam asked. “I mean, how else do you explain the car, the knife, the blood-”

“What about you tell us?” said Emily, standing up and trying to ignore the horrible blood stench. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence all of this happens and suddenly the telepathy is gone. So- what the hell are you hiding?” Dean looked at her and frowned.

“Okay, slow down, what- what are you talking about?” said Dean. “What- The telepathy is gone?”

“Yeah, I- I realized today, it’s… it’s been a while. So he’s hiding something, I know he is. That’s why I don’t buy all of this!” she explained.

“Emily, what the hell?” said Dean. “You- You don’t believe Sam?” He looked at her with disgust. Like it was a capital sin not to believe Sam, the golden boy, as if he hadn’t done that to her just hours prior. “Dude, you’re… you’re something else,” he said.

“He’s been weird, and-” Dean rolled his eyes and gestured at her to stop talking.

“I’ll deal with you later- Sam, listen to me, okay? Even if you did do this I'm sure you had a reason, you know… self-defense- uh… he was- he was a bad son of a bitch, something!” Emily rolled her eyes and looked at Sam one last time before she walked to the other side of the room. She opened a cabinet to reveal a few guns and what looked like a lot of lore and folklore research.

“Dude was a hunter,” she said. Dean and Sam turned, alarmed. Sam released a shaky breath. “I’ll go check nobody is coming to fucking kill us.” Emily rolled her eyes and walked out the room and to the front door. She looked through the glass and checked in the distance. Sam and Dean’s voices came muffled from the other side of the room.

“Call her,” said Dean. A beat of silence followed. “What? No, I’m fucking done, you’re her bff or whatever, just-”

“Dean, she thinks I did this and I’m hiding it for some reason!” said Sam. Emily kept looking outside. Sam and Dean really had to learn how to hide their conversations from her.

“Is she wrong?” Nobody spoke for a couple seconds, then Sam appeared in the doorway behind her. Emily looked at him.

“We found surveillance tapes,” he whispered. Emily walked past him without looking at him. She stood next to Dean as he started the tapes. On the tiny screen. Sam entered the room running and attacked the man. After a fight, Sam grabbed him and cut his throat. Emily looked at Sam and it was like she saw him for the first time. She’d ignored Sam’s nature all that time, because he usually acted calm, rational. Sam was the one that would listen, Sam was the one who would fight with Dean to keep her safe. Seeing him kill someone like that reminded her: Sam was a soldier just as much as Dean. And if he wanted to kill, he could. So Emily stood there, staring at an indefinite point in front of her as one of the last things she knew she could count on crumbled before her eyes. Dean was the first person to break the silence that followed.

“How do I erase this?” said Dean, pointing to the computer. Sam didn’t answer. Dean looked at Emily and she looked at Sam.

“I killed him,” he said. “I broke him and killed him.” Dean looked at Emily. She remained silent.

“Alright listen,” said Dean. “Whoever this guy is, he's a hunter. Which means that other hunters are going to come looking for his killer, which means we've got to cover our tracks, okay?” Sam nodded, but didn’t move.

“Jesus fucking Christ-” Emily said, rolling her eyes. “Dean, give me your gun,” she said. He hesitated. “You want to cover our tracks?” He nodded. “Cool, give me your fucking gun.” Dean handed her his weapon and she kicked the computer. All screens turned off and she kicked it again, the side of it flying off. Emily pointed her gun at the hard-drive and shot it twice. “Here,” she said. “Deleted.” Dean shrugged and took back his gun.

“That works,” he said. “Alright, wipe your prints, then we go.” Dean tossed Sam a tissue.

When they arrived back at the motel, Dean gestured at Sam to go ahead and grabbed Emily’s arm. He closed the door, keeping her out of the room and stuck with him.

“What?” she asked, shoving her arm back.

“You think he did it?” he asked. Emily rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “No attitude, this is fucking serious.”

“Dean, I- I don’t know, okay?” she said. “How- How am I supposed to know?”

“That’s right, you don’t know. So stop acting like you do. For all we know, the powers had an expiration date. You ran out of demon blood or whatever. So stop acting like he’s some sort of murderer.” Emily scoffed. Ironic, how he’d been treating her like a criminal ever since they met, but she had to stop, because Sam was the fucking golden boy. The golden-est of them all. “And drop the fucking attitude.” said Dean. “It’s fucking irritating.”

“Yeah, right-” she said. “Whatever.” Emily entered the room and flopped on the first chair she walked into. She grabbed her bag and threw it on the bed next to Sam without looking at him. Dean sighed and closed the door behind him.

“Alright,” he said. “We get a couple hours sleep and then we put this place in our rearview mirror.” Sam looked at him, silent. Emily gathered a t-shirt she had left on the floor. “Look, I know this is bad, okay? You gotta snap out of it.” As Dean said that, Emily stuffed her shirt in her bag, trying not to answer, trying to be quiet. Just like he wanted it. Trying to do what she was told, for once. “Sam, say something!” Sam scoffed.

“Just get some sleep and leave in the morning?” He said. “Murder, Dean. That's what I did.” Emily put her hands on top of her bag and sighed.

“Maybe,” said Dean. Sam rolled his eyes. “Hey, we don't know- Shapeshifter!”

“A shapeshifter?” said Emily. “Really? We saw the tapes, there was no eye flare!”

“That wasn’t Sam,” said Dean, a warning look on his eyes.

“Okay, then explain it. If it wasn’t Sam, tell me what’s going on. Because chances are- it’s going to happen to me soon,” she said. Dean’s eyes hardened. She was pushing his buttons, she knew it and she didn’t care. “Come on, give me a fucking explanation. One that makes sense.”

“Emily, I told you to-”

“Drop the attitude? Who the fuck do you think you are? You’re not dad, Dean.” Dean looked at Sam and they exchanged a mysterious look.

“She’s right.” said Sam. Dean frowned. “I- I think I did it.” Emily crossed her arms. “There’s something I…” Sam trailed off for a moment. “Something’s happening to me. I- I’ve been feeling…” He looked at Emily. “You know, anger, hate- Like I want to smash everything around me. Including myself.” Emily frowned, panic settling in. That was a pretty cut and dry description of how she felt. Dean put his hands on his waist and looked at Emily. “Dean, Yellow Eyes- you know he has plans for us. He turned other kids into killers, too.” Emily sat down on the bed.  Dean looked at her and walked towards Sam.

“You’re telling me- you think this really is about what  dad said? You- you think Emily is…” He turned towards her.

“It could be,” he said. “Maybe she’s just turning faster than I am.” Dean crossed his arms. “Maybe we’re just becoming-”

“What?!” asked Dean.

“What we’re meant to be,” said Sam. Dean scoffed. “You said this yourself, Dean! I have to face up to who I am!” Emily took a deep breath and reached for her cigarettes.

“This is not what I meant!” said Dean. “And Emily? Look at her!” He turned and saw she was about smoke, so he knocked the cigarette out of her hands. “Does she look like a killer to you?” Emily looked at Dean. Was that supposed to be a compliment?

“Thanks?” she whispered, trying not to cry.

“Shut up-”

“Dean, you have to face this! Dad knew this was going to happen, that’s why he told you-”

“You shut up too!” yelled Dean. “Both of you, shut the fuck up!” Emily failed to stop herself from crying and released a sob. Dean rolled his eyes.

“You promised him, Dean.” said Sam. Dean looked back at Emily and sighed.

“No,” he said. “We’re gonna figure this out. So… You stop fucking crying-” he said to Emily. She rolled her eyes and dried her face. “And we're gonna find a way.” Sam reached in Dean’s bag and took out a gun.

“Right,” he said. He handed Dean the gun. “I don’t want to hurt anyone else.” The only sound for a while was Emily fidgeting with the lighter.

“God, you two really are the Miracle-fucking-Girls,” said Dean in a whisper he turned and grabbed Emily’s lighter. “I can’t believe I have to listen to this- Sam! You can fight this!”

“No.” said Sam. “I can’t.” Emily tried to fight for her lighter back, but Dean instead dragged her standing.

“I swear to god, Emily-” he whispered. Sam put the gun in Dean’s hand.

“You do it,” he said. Emily sobbed again and tried to go back to sitting on the bed. Dean kept her firmly next to him.

“I’d rather die.” said Dean. He placed the gun on the bed, still forcing Emily next to him. Sam took the gun.

“No, you’ll live,” he said, looking at the gun. Emily tried to force herself free, but despite not budging an inch, Dean didn’t turn to look at her. He was staring at Sam. Suddenly Sam raised his hand and hit Dean’s head, making him fall and drag Emily down with her. With a shot, Emily passed out.

When she opened her eyes, Dean was right above her saying something she could not put together. He was pushing something in her shoulder. The first sound she could make was a scream of pain, she sat up, but Dean forced her back on the floor.

“Stand still-” he said. “This is about to hurt a lot fucking more.” Emily fought against Dean’s strength as he dug his fingers inside her shoulder. She screamed again, pain taking over her body. “Almost done.” said Dean, pulling something out of her shoulder and reaching for a bottle of liquor. Emily didn’t have the time to try and stop him that he was already pouring it on her open wound. Trying not to scream a third time, Emily dug her nails in Dean’s arm and groaned.

“Please tell me you’re done,” she whispered, seeing Dean was walking away. He looked at her and lifted one corner of his lips.

“First time getting shot, kid?” he said, crouching next to her holding some bandages. Emily rolled her eyes. “Worst part is done,” Dean said. “I just have to close you back up.”

“Cool, another scar that won’t ever go away,” Emily whispered. Dean ignored her and sewed her skin together. Emily put a hand behind her to hold herself up and felt the floor soaked in something warm. She turned to see a pool of blood. “Did I lose all that blood?” she asked. Dean nodded. “What happened?”

“Sam punched me cold and shot you. I don’t know where he went,” he said. “Here, all done.” He put down the needle and covered her wound. “Take it easy, okay? Don’t want you passing out again.”

“Where do we start looking for him?” she asked. Dean stood up and helped her to the bathroom. She took off what was left of her shirt and cleaned off the blood.

“I’ll call the phone company and have them turn on the GPS,” he said. Emily held onto the sink, lightheaded and desperately trying not to fall. “You good?”

“Of course,” she said. “Give me a minute.” Emily used the wall to keep herself up and wore a clean t-shirt.  She almost fell to the floor, getting Dean’s attention.

“I’ll get you some food as soon as we’re on the road. Hang in there, okay?” he said. Emily rolled her eyes and picked up her bag.

Dean threw her a brown bag that smelled like burnt frying oil. Emily opened it and sighed. When she looked at him, he handed her a water.

“Looked it up. Apparently it’s good for blood loss,” he said. Emily took the bottle.

“I could have told you that,” she whispered, trying to open the bottle with her hands. Dean offered to help her, but she used her teeth. Emily ate the burger and drank the water as Dean drove in silence. “Where exactly are we going?” she asked.

“Duluth, Minnesota,” said Dean. “That’s Sam’s last location.” Emily crossed her arms and hissed in pain.  

“Minnesota?” Emily frowned. “Why? You know someone there?” He shook his head. “Then what-”

“I don’t fucking know,” he said. “All I know is he’s not himself, okay? And maybe it’s the demon blood thing but that doesn’t…” Dean trailed off and shook his head. “Look- I know you’re scared, okay? But I can’t have you panic and cry for this one.” Emily looked outside the window. “You got it? I need your A-game.”

“Of course,” she said. “It’s not like I was just shot, right?”

“Welcome to the job.” Dean shook his head. He remained silent for a while.

Dean parked the car on the side of a road coasting the lake.

“Here we are,” he said. “You got holy water on you?” Emily nodded.

“You think he’s possessed?”

“That’s my best bet,” he said. “Look, I give you a signal, you use the holy water on him. Don’t let him run. You got it?” Emily nodded. Dean walked towards the bar and kicked down the door. Emily followed him. When Sam saw them, he grabbed a knife from a nearby pillar and turned around, revealing he was holding a girl hostage. He pressed the knife to her throat.

“I begged you to stop me, Dean!” yelled Sam. Emily walked next to Dean.

“Sam, just put the knife down,” she said. Dean looked at her for a moment.

“I told you I can't fight it!” said Sam. “My head feels like it's on fire, all right?!” Emily swallowed and took another step towards him.

“Sam, we can still fix this. You’re going to be okay,” she said. Sam pressed the knife harder on the girl’s neck.

“What do you know about my feelings?!” he yelled. Emily turned to look at Dean. That was possession alright. Sam would have known about telepathy. “Who are you to tell me what's going on in here?!” He gestured at his head with his gun. Then, he turned towards Dean. “Kill me, Dean, or I’m gonna kill her.” He pointed the gun towards the girl. “Please, you’d be doing me a favor!”

“We’re not gonna kill you, Sam.” said Emily. She touched her back pocket, making sure she still had the holy water. Sam took a step back, trying to keep the distance.

“Of course you won’t! You don’t have the guts,” he said. “But Dean does!” Emily slowly slid the holy water out of her pocket. “What the hell's wrong with you, Dean? I thought you trained her, didn’t you?” said Sam. Emily glared at Dean again and he nodded. That had to be the signal, right?

“That’s where you’re wrong,” said Emily. “Dean didn’t train me. Dad did.” With a quick hit, she knocked the knife out of Sam’s hand and sprayed Sam with holy water. With a scream, Sam’s eyes went black and he ran, jumping out of a window. Dean hesitated for a second to look at Emily.

“That was not the signal!” he yelled. He loaded his gun and ran after Sam. Emily took off the girl’s gag.

“Are you okay?” she asked, undoing the rest of the restraints who were keeping her trapped. The girl nodded.

“I think I'll be okay. Was he possessed?” Emily nodded.

“Yeah,” she said. “Name’s Emily, by the way.”

“I’m Jo.” said the girl. “Hey, I heard about you, you're Dean's sister, right?” Emily huffed.

“More like Sam's, but- Nevermind, you're Ellen's daughter, right? I heard about you, too,”

“I can only imagine,” Jo answered, rolling her eyes and massaging her wrists. Emily looked at her, trying to figure out if she was hurt. “I’m fine, I promise,” said Jo with a smile. “Let’s go look for Dean.” They walked out the bar and started calling Dean on his phone, but it kept going to voicemail. Emily jogged through the piers, trying to spot him or Sam in the dark of the night, but to no avail.

“Dean!” she called. “DEAN!” She was only met with silence. Jo tried to call Dean one more time. The sound of distorted rock music reached Emily and she rushed towards it. Dean was lying in the dark, brought back to the pier by the lake. Emily turned him face up and he groaned, in pain, slowly regaining conscience. “What the fuck happened to you?!” she asked.

“Where's Sam?” he asked. Emily tried to help him up.

“I don't know, he hasn’t come back for us,” she answered, seeing blood on his shoulder. When Dean tried to put a hand down to stand up, he fell back down.

“He shot me,” he said.

“Yeah, I can see that,” she said. “Come on, let us help you.”

“No, no-” Dean stood up and kissed. “It's fine.”

“Fine my ass,” said Jo. “Let's get you back inside.”

Dean sat down and Emily started working to get the bullet out of him. Jo helped her by passing tools and by scolding Dean when he complained too much.

“So, how old are you, Emily?” asked Jo.

“I'm sixteen,” Emily said. “But don't worry, I am not a baby, I can handle myself.”

“I could tell,” Jo said. “How's the life treating you?” Emily looked at her and scoffed. “Not good, uh?”

“It's rough,” Emily sighed. Dean groaned in pain as she pressed some disinfectant on his skin.“Stop being a baby!” she complained. Dean moved in order to scowl at her. “And sit still.” Jo passed Emily a long pair of forceps after dunking them inside some whiskey. “Thanks,” she smiled. Dean rolled his eyes.

“You know, Jo, I would appreciate it if you didn't hit on my sister,” he said, looking up. Jo chuckled. “Seriously, isn't she a little young for you?”

“Oh, so suddenly age is a big deal?” Jo said. Emily looked at Dean. “That's not what you said last time.”

“Alright,” Emily grinned. “What is going on here?”

“Mind your business,” Dean said. “And hurry it up, we gotta find Sam.”

“I would go faster if you kept fucking still,” Emily sighed. Emily held her breath and slowly pulled out the bullet. Dean moved, and she lost grip on the bullet.

“I did this on you this morning and you screamed like I was fucking stabbing you in the spine.” Dean complained.

“I thought you were supposed to be the tough one,” Emily said, holding him still against the chair as she tried pulling the bullet out again. Dean huffed. Jo passed Dean a glass full of liquor.

“Drink,” she said. Emily pressed Dean against the chair and tried getting the bullet out again. When it was finally out, she dropped it into a glass of alcohol and Dean released a deep breath.

“Fuck, that hurt,” Dean said. Emily started covering the wound.

“If you keep complaining, next time I’ll do it with my fingers,” said Emily. “Like you did this morning.” Dean shook his head.

“Can I ask you guys something?” asked Jo. Emily nodded, smiling.

“Sure.”

“I know demons lie, but ... do they ever tell the truth too?” Emily looked at Dean.

“I guess,” he said. “Especially if they know it’ll mess with you. Why do you ask?” Emily stole Dean’s glass and took a swig of whiskey. She offered some to Jo. She refused.

“Nothing. Doesn't matter,” said Jo. “So do you have any idea where Sam's headed next?” Emily put a piece of gauze over Dean’s shoulder and taped it. She sighed and stood up.

“Well, so far he's been going after the nearest hunter, so...” said Dean. He looked at Emily.

“Bobby?” she asked. He nodded. “Give me the keys,” she said.

“No way you’re driving,” said Dean, standing up. Emily scoffed.

“Dude, you can’t drive with one arm,” she said.

“And you don’t have your license,” said Dean, wearing his jacket. Emily rolled her eyes.

“Then get me a fake one!” said Emily. “It doesn’t matter, our whole life is made of fake documents!” Dean walked towards the door.

“I said no, okay? I’ve done this bef-” he noticed something behind Emily and gestured at her not to speak. “Jo, what do you think you’re doing?” Emily turned. Jo was wearing her jacket.

“Coming with you?” she said. Dean’s eyes widened.

“No you’re not,” he said. Jo scoffed.

“Of course I am, I’m part of this now,” she said. Dean walked past Emily.

“I can’t say it any more plain than this: you try to follow me and I’ll tie you back to that post.” Jo rolled her eyes. “This is my fight. I’m not getting your blood on your hands.”

“But-”

“God, you two would make the best of friends,” sighed Dean. He looked at Emily and shook his head. “That’s not a discussion, Jo, you’re staying here. I’ll call you, okay?” He walked out the door. Emily wore her jacket.

“Never seen him so protective about something who's not Sam before,” Emily commented, putting all her supplies back in her bag. “I bet he's so into you.”

“He's an idiot,” Jo sighed. “But hey, give me a call once everything's over, okay? I bet you don't get to hang out with girls often.”

“I- I don't actually,” Emily said, feeling her cheeks flush with red. “Yeah, I- I'll call you.”

“Emily!” Dean appeared in the doorway just when Emily was saving Jo’s number. “We don’t have all night.”

“See you around, Jo,” said Emily, following Dean outside the bar. Jo waved her goodbye.

“What was that?!” said Dean as soon as they were in the car.

“What?” Emily put on her seatbelt, frowning.

“Thanks Jo, see you later, Jo.” Dean said, mocking her voice. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you be this kind to anybody.” The engine started and Dean merged into the road.

”...and?”

“What, you like Jo or something?” He asked. Emily scoffed.

“Dude, I don't get crushes,” she said. “I'm not that kind of girl.”

“What does th-” Dean shook his head  and turned on the engine. “Nevermind, just- I don't think it's a good idea.”

“You're just jealous,” Emily complained. “Jesus, Dean, she’s barely old enough to drink.”

“Okay, shut up now,” said Dean, turning the volume up and letting music cover any attempt at arguing.

“Bobby’s line is dead,” said Emily half an hour later, torturing a strand of hair between her fingers. Dean’s hand tightened against the steering wheel as the car made straining sounds.

“We’re almost there. You keep trying,” he said, pointing at Emily’s phone.

“He’s going to be fine, right? I mean, it’s Bobby,” asked Emily, dialing the number again. “I'm sure he's got like- a thousand secret demon traps we don't know about. The call declined immediately. “Nothing.” Dean nodded ever so slightly as the car went even faster.

“By the way- that was not the signal!” Dean said. “I told you to wait for the signal!”

“What- How am I supposed to know what the signal is?! You nodded, I went for it!” Emily complained. “You can't just assume I-”

“Hey, you've been doing this for four years, you should k-”

“No, I shouldn't! You never gave me any signal that wasn't ‘stay behind me and don't do anything!’” she answered. Dean shook his head. “You never let me do anything, how am I supp-”

“Okay, okay, I get it, stop doing that!” Dean yelled. Emily frowned. “Stop yelling and stop using your girl voice with me, I get it, you're pissed!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Emily asked.

“See? This- this is your normal voice!” he said. “And then you yell and you sound- I don't know, you sound hysterical!”

“I beg your pardon?!” Emily said, raising her eyebrows. “Dude, I am a girl! I have a girl voice! What am I supposed to do?!”

“Maybe don't yell so much, okay? Maybe just do as you're told and shut up!” Dean yelled. Emily looked at him and tried calling Bobby again to avoid pinching him in the face.

Emily walked in Bobby’s house behind Dean, holding one of Sam’s guns Dean had finally agreed on giving her, just in case. Bobby appeared from behind a corner, holding a rifle. After a moment of tension, he sprayed them with holy water. Emily sighed, lowering her gun and drying her face.

“Sorry sweetheart,” said Bobby. “It’s been quite a night.”

Sam was passed out on a chair, tied up. Emily’s eyes lingered on him a second too much for Bobby not to notice.

“Kid, you good?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, he handed her a beer. Emily frowned.

“I know- You’re still too young, but I think it’d help,” He smiled and patted her shoulder before going back to Dean. “So, you said he’s been possessed for weeks?” He asked. Emily forced herself to turn and look at Dean and Bobby.

“That’s what he said. I don’t know,” Dean sighed. “Should we exorcise him?” Bobby took a book off a shelf and dropped it on the table. Emily crossed her arms and drank a sip of beer.

“You think it hurts?” she asked. Dean turned towards her.

“What do you think?” he said. Emily rolled her eyes and sat on a pile of books. Bobby glared at Dean and he huffed.

“Sweetheart, do me a favor and go grab those holy water tanks out back.” said Bobby. Emily silently walked outside the room. She rolled her eyes as she heard Bobby whisper something inaudible to Dean. As she made her way around the house, she heard their voices become clearer again. There's no way this is happening again. She thought. People really need to stop talking about me behind my back.

“Look, I do what I have to, okay?” said Dean. “I don't- She's a kid. I don't know how to talk to her without making her snap at me.”

“Have you tried not being an asshole all the time?” asked Bobby. Emily picked up the jug of holy water with both her hands and started to walk back.

“She needs to be a hunter, Bobby, she's not-”

“Christ- she's not what? What John wanted you all to be? Thank God she isn't!” Bobby and Dean's voice faded in the distance again. When she entered the house, nobody was speaking. She placed the holy water in front of Bobby.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said with a smile. Emily looked at Sam. He hadn't moved. He was still passed out in the middle of the room. On the ceiling, a trap to make sure the demon couldn't run.

“Want to do the honors?” asked Dean. Emily looked at him.

“I’m good,” she said, taking a step back and leaning on a pile of books. Dean looked at Bobby, but didn't say anything. He placed the holy water next to her feet and walked back to Sam.

This kid is driving me up a fucking walk. Dean sighed and glared at Bobby. Of course he didn’t agree with how he acted. Don’t be an asshole he said, but Dean wasn’t too sure he knew what he meant. He wasn’t being an asshole. He was trying to protect her. Emily had to get tougher if she wanted to survive. And Dean knew from experience, you don’t get tough by being coddled. Dean was about to slap Sam awake when he saw Emily wrap herself in her arms in the corner of his eyes. His blood boiled for a minute. She's gonna get herself killed.

“That’s it,” he said. Emily’s eyes shot up to him. Terrified was the only way Dean could describe her. “I’m tired of you being a fucking baby. Wake him up.”

“What?” she asked, her voice shaking.

“You heard me. Stop sitting around and wake him up,” Emily hesitated for a long moment. Her eyes filled with tears, but then she swallowed and stood up. Bobby looked at Dean and shook his head. He didn’t approve. Dean wasn’t sure if he cared or not. Emily stood in front of Sam for an entire minute. “Emily,” said Dean. She flinched and turned towards him. “It’s just a slap, you’ve done worse.”

“It’s Sam,” she whispered. “I- I- don’t-”

“Let’s clear this up: that’s not Sam. Sam can’t hear or feel anything right now. That’s a demon.” Emily rolled her eyes. “And you’re a hunter, so act like it.”

“You want me to act like a hunter?” she asked. Her expression hardened. Dean nodded towards Sam. Emily looked at him and sighed. Dean could hear her breath getting shakier by the second. He looked at Bobby. The man shook his head and grabbed Emily’s arm.

“Enough,” he said. “Emily, sit back down.” He dragged her in front of the pile of books and then slapped Sam awake. Emily flinched. The demon looked at Dean and then above him. He smirked.

“Dean,” he said. “Back from the dead.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Getting to be a regular thing for you, isn’t it?” The demon looked behind Dean and huffed. “What the fuck is wrong with her?” it asked. Dean turned: Emily was sitting on a pile of books, trying to hide the fact she was crying and pulling on a strand of hair. Dean clenched his fist and glared at Bobby.

“Don’t make me smack that smartass right out of your mouth.” said Dean.  

“Oh, careful now,” the demon said with a smirk. “Wouldn't want to bruise this fine packaging,” Dean huffed and picked up a bucket filled with holy water.

“Oh, don’t worry, this isn’t gonna hurt Sam much,” Dean threw the water on Sam's body and the demon screamed and roared. Dean channeled all his patience to ignore Emily’s sob behind him. She’s just a kid, he thought to himself, snapping’s just gonna make it worse. He swallowed.

“Sam's still my meat puppet. I'll make him bite off his tongue,” said the demon. Dean looked at Bobby.

“No, you won’t be in him long enough,” he said. Bobby started reciting the exorcism. As the demon shook and tried to resist, Dean looked at Emily for a moment and closed his eyes. I swear to God if she doesn’t stop crying- just as he was thinking that, she showed him the finger. He rolled his eyes and brought his attention back to the demon. “See,” he said. “Whatever bitch-boy master plan you demons are cooking up? You're not getting Sam.” The demon struggled against the restraints. “You understand me? 'Cause I'm gonna kill every one of you first.” The demon’s screams of pain turned into laughter. Dean took a step back and Emily looked up, confused.

“You really think that's what this is about?” said the demon. “The master plan? I don't give a rat's ass about the master plan.” Bobby continued reciting the exorcism, but it didn’t seem to work anymore. Dean frowned. A long moment of silence followed. Even Emily wasn’t crying anymore.

“Ops.” said the demon. “Doesn't seem to be working. See, I learned a few new tricks.” The floor cracked behind Dean, Emily was standing right behind him. She's gonna get herself killed. He thought as held out his arm to keep her away. The demon recited words in latin and the room started shaking. Wind gusted in, opening books and making papers fly everywhere.

“Bobby, what’s happening?” asked Emily. Dean looked at the man. He walked closer to Sam and moved up his sleeve.  “Shit-” said Emily, pushing past Dean’s arm.

“What?” he asked, confused. “What is that?”

“Binding link,” she said. Dean frowned, confused and Emily rolled her eyes. “It’s a lock, it- it keeps the demon inside.” Before Dean could ask anything else, the ceiling cracked, breaking the trap and setting the demon free. The room went silent. Emily dried her face as the demon stood up. With a gesture, Bobby flew against a wall and passed out. Dean wasn’t able to react that he felt his body take off and then everything went black.

She was alone. All alone. Dean was barely conscious, unable to move, Bobby was passed out- or worse. Emily was the only one left. The demon looked at her and smirked. It gestured towards her the same way they’d done for Dean and Bobby, but nothing happened. The demon stopped walking and raised a hand towards Emily again. She felt a force push her, but not strong enough to actually move her.

“What the hell?” said the demon. Emily felt a rush go through her. It was then or never. She had to fight back. But how?

“Having trouble?” she smirked, trying to buy herself time. “Ran out of juice?” The demon seemed angry at her words.

“Don’t worry.” said the demon. “We can settle this the old way.” The demon walked to Emily and grabbed her from her hair, pushing her against the wall. All attempts at setting herself free were useless: Emily couldn’t do anything against juiced-up Sam. “By the way,” said the demon. “Sending me back to hell had to be against the girl code.” The demon punched Emily and that was when she recognized it. It was Meg. With another punch, Emily felt her nose give out. “I saw you crying earlier,” Meg said with a smirk. “you must be so worried for Sam… if only he cared about you as much as you care about him.” Emily fought against Meg’s restraints, but only managed to amuse the demon. She held her up by her throat. “Oh, don’t get angry at me. You’re to blame, aren’t you? You’re broken beyond repair and nobody can help you. Not even Sam.” She tightened the grip around Emily’s throat. “Not that he even wants to try.”

Get off. Thought Emily. Meg smirked, happy to see Emily wasn’t able to fight back. Get the fuck off of me. Emily used all her strength to push Meg away one more time and the demon flew across the room. The room went silent as Sam’s body fell to the floor with a thud. Dean grunted something and tried to stand up, but fell back down. What the hell. She thought. Was that me? Emily's breath started going short. That was me. She looked at Sam's body. That's something monsters do, why am I- Dean grunted something and Emily focused back up. The link. She had to break it if she wanted Meg to get out. She located a knife on the floor and grabbed it. She grabbed Sam's arm cut a line through the binding lock. Sam’s eyes shot open and turned black. Emily fell backwards as the demon left his body in a trail of black smoke. She pushed back on her feet and dragged herself to lean against a wall. Why wouldn’t Meg powers work? How did she fight back? Was it her powers? She heard a window crash and looked up, scared. A book flew through the room and landed next to Dean’s head.

“What the hell are you doing?!” he asked.

“I’m- I’m not doing anything!” Emily dried her face from the tears and tried to take a deep breath. Her lungs contracted back up, leaving her breathless. John was right. She was going to turn into a monster. In fact, she already had. The window behind her shattered and glass showered her.

“Emily, stop!” Dean’s voice got to her like he was in another room. She figured it out. It was her. Having demon-given powers apparently came with the burden of not being able to have a panic attack without misfiring them. Glass shards surrounded her. She was a monster. Plain and simple. There was nothing she could do if not wait for the day Dean would kill her.

No longer you

From EPIC: The Underworld Saga

Emily opened her eyes. She didn’t recognize the ceiling above her. That wasn’t where she’d gone to sleep. She sat up.

“Sam?” she called and looked around. But Sam wasn’t there. And he wasn’t going to be for the following forty-eight hours. She wasn’t alone, though. In the house there were other “chosen children”. She didn’t like them much. She followed them and helped them get food, but she didn’t rely on them or tell them much about her. She knew much better than to trust anybody in a situation like that. Something didn’t sit quite right. There had to be a reason they were all there, and it couldn't be a good one. Sam appeared in the city the following day. That night, Yellow-Eyes talked to her in her sleep. He raved and raved about how much more powerful than everybody else she was. About how she was to beat them all. How she was special. He showed her the night he came to her house and gave her the demon blood.

“You see, getting all that blood out of me wasn’t easy,” he said. “But I needed to see what would happen if I overpowered you. The other people in this town… they only got a couple of drops. More than enough to mess you up, but you and the rest of your group… Oh, the things you could have done.” Demons lied. They lied all the time. She knew it. But he wasn’t lying about the bottle of blood. Her mom saw it. And her mom wouldn't lie. She tried to stick with Sam, make sure they had each other's back, at the very least. But she couldn't. Not until the very end. The last thing she ever heard Sam say was:

“I'm going to check on Ava, will you be okay out here?” Emily had nodded, and Sam had left. The rest of the night was a confusing, scary mass of pain and horrible memories. Dean arrived too late. She’d been trying to keep Sam alive for over an hour. Next to her, Jake’s mangled body, the pipe she used to cave his face in was still halfway inside of his body. His blood and Sam’s blood pooled at her knees, soaking her overalls and her t-shirt as she kept his heart pumping the little to no blood that was left in him. Who was she kidding? Sam had been dead for way over an hour. No amount of med school could have prepared her for that. No amount of surgeries. He got stabbed through the heart and the spine, no amount of pressure and no amount of cardiac massage could save him. But she was stuck in that motion, arms, face, her entire body, covered in blood, and no ribs in Sam's chest left to crack.

When Dean finally showed up, she wasn’t even crying anymore. She was still pumping Sam's chest even though his body was already cold. Sam was dead. She couldn’t save him. Dean's face when he walked through the door, she was sure she would never forget. It was a mixture of shock and disgust, and maybe it was because of Jake's guts and brains on the floor, or maybe it was because she was still alive, and Sam wasn't, and Dean would have gladly had it the other way around. It took him a good deal of force to move her away from Sam. She didn't say anything, not a single word, she just kept pushing Sam's chest in. But eventually, Dean moved her away, and took Sam's body to the car. Emily looked from a distance. She knew perfectly well that a small word, a breath too loud, would ignite a fight she did not want to have. Not then, not there. Not anymore. Sam was dead because of her. Because of her distraction. She left him alone. She should have never left him alone. It was all her fault. She thought it and she was sure Dean thought it too.

Nobody spoke for the rest of the night. Emily sat on the couch, looking at Dean's every move. She tried to cry as quietly as possible. She didn't wash her body or her clothes, the stench of the dried blood perpetually making its way into her lungs. Bobby walked into the house with fried chicken in his hand.

“You oughta get clean,” he said. Emily shook her head. Bobby walked to the couch. “Your wrists okay?” he asked. Emily looked down. They were purple. She'd kept going on Sam's chest so much she probably broke them.

Emily dared to move only when she saw Dean opening up the second whiskey bottle of the night. There was nothing she wanted to deal with less than a drunk Winchester. Not that night. She sighed and stood up, pretending to be confident but still holding her breath. She walked to the table and took the bottle away from Dean’s hands. She poured herself a big glass of whiskey and sat down next to Dean.

He briefly looked at her, but didn't say anything. He slid the bottle closer to him.

“Dean, I-” she tried to say.

“Shut up,” he said, his knuckles whitening around the glass. Of course, thought Emily. What was I thinking, sitting here like this? That we could be siblings for just one fucking day?  She stood up, nervous.

“Okay, I'll-” she whispered, taking one step towards the main room.

“GOD DAMN IT, I SAID SHUT UP, NOT LEAVE!” Dean grabbed her from her wrist and stopped her. Emily froze. Tears filled her eyes and Dean let go of her wrist as if it was made of fire. Emily made her way back to her chair. Dean didn't bother to look at her. He got what he wanted, and that was enough. She took a deep breath. She dried her face from the tears and didn't dare standing up. A couple hours of silence later, Bobby showed up again, with the same, cold, soggy chicken he had already offered them twice. They refused in unison.

“You should eat something,” he said. Emily was trying to find a polite way to send him his way, but Dean had, of course, other plans.

“I said I am fine,” he said, sharp.

“Dean, I hate to bring this up, I really do,“ he said, putting down the chicken. Emily tried to signal him to stop, already knowing what he wanted to ask, but he ignored her. “But don't you think maybe it's time… we bury him?” The glass of the window to Emily’s right cracked. She closed her eyes.  

“No,” said Dean, going back to his glass of whiskey and clearing the table of some glass shards.

“Maybe we could...”

“I said not yet.” Dean said, raising his voice. The glass in Emily's hand exploded, cutting her hand. Not that it made any difference, given the amount of blood she was covered in.

“I want you to come with me,” said Bobby. “There’s something going on.”

“Take Emily.” said Dean. Emily looked at Bobby and shook her head. He gestures her to wait.

“I didn’t ask Emily, I asked you.” Dean stood up and stared at Bobby.

“Dean,” said Emily. Her voice was supposed to sound stern, like a mother, but it came out like a plea. He turned towards her and then, something weird happened. Dean sat back down. Emily dragged her cut hand on her overalls, already stiff with blood, and gestured at Bobby to go outside. He followed her outside the kitchen and closed the door.

“Bobby, just go, okay? We'll be fine,” she said.

“Listen, something is going down. Something apocalyptic. I could use your help,” said Bobby. Emily crossed her arms. She looked inside the room. She had to be the bigger person. She had to stay.

“We'll be fine,” she repeated. “Really.” Bobby seemed to ponder for a second. He sighed and patted Emily’s shoulder. Then, he left.

When the night fell once again on Sioux Falls, she was still sitting next to Dean. She blinked, and Yellow-Eyes appeared in front of her. She stood up and reached for her gun. Dean didn’t move, her body didn’t either. She was standing above it, like a weird dream. The demon smiled.

“Howdy, Emily,” he said. Emily kept pointing the gun at him. “You wanna put that away?” He quietly stood still, until Emily lowered her gun. It wasn’t going to do anything anyway. “Congratulations, by the way. You are the last man standing. Again.”

“Bite me,” she said.

“Oh come on, don't be like that. I was rooting for you!” The demon grinned.  

“I see you had fun,” she said. “Was it really necessary? For Sam to die?”

“I needed the strongest of the lot, I didn't want to settle for the silver medal.” The demon walked closer to her. “I want the golden champion, and that's you.”

“You need me?” asked Emily. “I'm not helping you.” The demon smiled.

“Oh, I got a laundry list of things for you to do.”  Emily scoffed.

“You killed my brother!”

“Woah there- I didn’t do anything,” said the demon. “Hate the player, not the game. Jake killed your brother and… you already smashed his brains with a pipe for it.”

“Semantics,” said Emily. “I’m not helping you.”

“Emily.” said the demon, tapping his fingers together. “I don’t think you understand what’s going on here. You help me, I help you. This is a partnership,” he said. Emily put her hands on her waist. “Maybe, if you help me, I can… I don’t know. Bring Sam back.” Emily remained silent and swallowed. The demon smiled, satisfied. “Sammy, the only one who understands you, the only one who wants to be your sibling. How are you going to survive without him? Just you and Dean? That’s not sustainable, is it?”

“I can handle him,” she said. The demon smirked. He knew as well as she did, she could not handle Dean. Not if he blamed her for Sam's death.

“Can you?” he asked. “Look at him. He’s angry. He’s going to hate you, Emily.” Emily shook her head, tears filling her eyes. “See, you blame me for Sam’s death. He blames you.” Emily dried her face. “But if Sam comes back, how could Dean hate you? He’s going to look at you differently. You would be the one who saved his precious little brother. Maybe- Maybe he would even treat you as family.” Emily sighed. Her breath shook. It was tempting. Probably a little too tempting. But Dean wasn’t going to be happy she teamed up with Yellow-Eyes to bring back Sam. It was all a lie. He wouldn’t be proud, he wouldn’t treat her any differently. He never would.

“Fuck off,” she said. The demon disappeared with a smirk.

Emily closed her eyes one second too long and fell asleep. When she opened them again, Dean was not next to her anymore. She ran out of the kitchen doors and saw him about to leave.

“Going somewhere?” she asked.

“I-” Dean tried to speak, but was interrupted by the door slamming behind him. Emily knew using her powers was just going to make him more nervous, but it was quicker than walking to the door by foot. Dean flinched and revealed he was holding a metal box. The key to the door turned and flew towards Emily. She extended her hand and grabbed it.

“What is that?!” she yelled, pointing at the box in Dean’s hand. But she knew exactly what it was.

“None of your business,” he said. Emily walked to him and took the box from him.

“You have any idea how long I spent reading here?” she asked. “You are selling your soul.”

“It's my soul, I can do whatever I want with it.” Dean took the box back. Emily pushed Dean against the wall next to the door. The box fell to the floor and clanged, and Emily locked it away. It tumbled and opened, the contents falling on the floor.

“You sick-” she said, “unaffectionate, son of a bitch.” Emily pushed Dean into the wall harder. She wasn't sure where she was getting all that strength from, especially with two broken wrists. But she was, and she wasn't in pain, so she had to go with it. “Did you already forget how it felt when dad did the same for you?!”

“You don’t get it,” said Dean, cold.

“I don't…” she repeated, closing her left hand into a fist as she kept Dean pinned against the wall with the other one. “What am I supposed to do, uh?” Dean rolled his eyes. “Just let you kill yourself?”

“Not any of my business,” he answered. Emily punched him. Tears pushed on the corners of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. Not now. She thought, holding her breath. Dean barely reacted. She hit him again, bursting into tears immediately after.

“I knew you didn’t care about me, but this-” Emily sniffed. “What am I supposed to do when you die?” she asked.  

“Honestly? I don’t care. Now move.” Emily felt blood rushing to her brain and punched Dean again. “You don’t want to do this,” he said. “Fucking move.” Emily pushed Dean further into the wall, which cracked under the pressure.

“You will have to step over my dead body to get out that door,” she said.

“Don’t challenge me.” Emily threw Dean away from the wall and pushed him on the floor.

“Wow!” she yelled, trying her best to not get interrupted by her sobbing, which was slowly closing down her nose. “You’d really rather kill me than having to spend the rest of your life alone with me?” She kicked him in the stomach. Dean used his legs to protect himself, but didn’t try to fight back. “So much for being my brother!” Dean slowly stood up.

“Move,” he said. Emily scoffed.

“Fuck- NO! I’M NOT GOING TO MOVE!” She yelled. “Either fucking kill me or find another fucking way to deal with this!” Dean sighed and then tried to punch her. Emily intercepted his drunken fist and pushed him against the wall again.

“I don’t want another way,” said Dean. Emily swallowed. So, he wanted her dead. Maybe that went two ways. “Why would I? I can’t even look at you.” Emily let Dean’s arm go and he pushed her away. “You’re a monster. And you’re the reason he’s dead.”

“Good job, Dean!” she screamed, taking a step back. “Way to be a brother.”

“I AM NOT YOUR BROTHER!” Dean yelled. Emily’s body froze for a second, a window exploded. Then, a wave of void pervaded her. It was all for nothing. She could try all she wanted. She could be the best hunter, the best sister, the best nurse. But it was all for nothing. He didn’t even consider her his sister. Yellow-Eyes was right: Dean hated her.

“Right,” she whispered, drying her face. “Of course. How could I ever think something like that.” She took the key to the door out of her jeans pocket and threw it to Dean. “You know what?” she said. “Kill yourself. I don’t care.” She turned and swallowed the actual words she wanted to say. He wanted her dead and she didn't care enough to not want him dead. Not anymore. Emily opened the door herself and walked out. She went around the house and deep into the salvage yard, hiding in an old Mustang she used to hide in to avoid training.

“Now, now, don’t be like that.” said a voice next to her, startling her. It was Yellow-Eyes, sitting in the passenger's seat. “I am sure it’s nothing bringing back Sam can’t fix.”

“No. I am not helping you.” said Emily.

“Oh, come on, I am literally the only person who would talk to you right now.” The demon smiled at her. “I’m your only friend.”

“You destroyed my life for kicks,” she said. “We’re not friends.”

“I was thinking...” he said. “If you are about to kill yourself-” Emily tried to complain. “And you are, who are you kidding,” Emily looked away. The thought had crossed her mind. What did she have left, anyway? “Why not make it worth your while? He thinks you’re no good, prove him wrong. Bring Sam back. Survive out of spite.” Emily looked at him and swallowed. The demon wasn’t wrong. Dean should have regretted treating her like shit all those years. She wasn't his sister? Fine. She'd show him what he missed out on. He was going to regret it.

“Howdy, Emily,” said the demon’s voice from behind her as she arrived at the agreed destination. “You should probably learn to drive less recklessly. Almost caused a couple of crashes back there.” Emily rolled her eyes and turned.

“Right. Let’s get to business,” she said.

“Alright, alright… fifty miles that way,“ pointed the demon. “I need you to open something for me.” He dipped his hand into his pocket and took out the Colt from it. When Emily tried to grab it, he moved it away. “Now, now, don’t be hasty,” he said. “This is the key for the crypt.” The demon handed the gun to her. She inspected it. It was the Colt. She could have used it on him and kill him. Then and there. But if he died, Sam would not come back. “Remember,” he said. “You open the crypt, Sam comes back to life. It's that easy.” Emily nodded. She sat back in the car and drove in the direction the demon pointed her to. She didn't bother asking for any explanation. What was in the crypt? Unimportant. Why did he need it open? Didn't care. She was going to get a new life. Away from hunting and - most importantly - away from Dean. And whatever was in the crypt? It was his fucking problem. That he fucking causes by being a fucking asshole.

She walked to the crypt and put the gun in the keyhole. The glyphs in the door lit up and spinned. The door started opening. After a moment of stillness, a sea of black smoke knocked her over. She felt the pain of the ground hitting her head and then passed out.

When she woke up, she saw a familiar figure towering her. Bobby was bringing her somewhere. She briefly passed out again and found herself in the backseat of a car.

“Emily, can you hear me?” said Bobby's voice. She groaned, in pain, as a response. The car soon came to a halt. Ellen helped her out of the vehicle. She recognized Bobby's house. No. Not here. Not with Dean.

“Bobby, I-”

“Are you okay?” he said, checking her for wounds. “Hurt?”

“No, Bobby I am fine, please-” She got out of Ellen's hold and leaned on the car. “I have to go, I-” As she tried to walk away, Bobby grabbed her wrist and dragged to the car again. She screamed, the pain in her wrist finally appearing. The adrenaline wasn't enough anymore.

“I knew I shouldn't have left you two alone! What the hell happened?!”

“Dean was about to-” She stopped talking, distracted by the Impala parking behind Bobby's car. A sudden urge to vomit reached her guts. That was not how it was supposed to go. She wasn't supposed to see him again. She covered her mouth and turned away. She failed. Her plan to leave everyone behind? Wasn't going to be able to go through with it. Dean knew she'd worked with the demon. He was going to kill her first.

“What happened?!” asked Bobby, looking back at Dean. Emily gagged and threw up next to the car's wheel. “Okay, that’s it, come inside.” The man tried to help Emily towards the door but she tried to move away. Her legs gave up on her and she fell on her vomit. As if the blood wasn't enough. Quickly standing back up, she stopped anybody from helping her and leaned on the car. “I said no.”

“Alright, you wanna do this here?” said Bobby, crossing his arms as well. “Fine by me.” Bobby looked at Ellen for a second and sighed. “Are you insane?! You opened the gates to hell!” Emily didn't try to defend herself. She’d done it. She'd done it because she wanted Dean to pay. Emily looked up and saw Dean was staring at her, anger pouring out of his expression.

“What the hell are you looking at?!” she asked him. “You did this!” He remained silent. Bobby turned around to look at him.

“Okay, enough with this!” said him, suddenly grabbing Emily by her arm and dragging her in front of her brother. “I’ve had it up to my hair with you two idiots. Now get inside!” Neither of them moved. Emily felt all her rage piling up in her core, ready to explode. “I said get inside!” Yelled Bobby, pushing Emily and Dean through the door. “What the hell happened?!”

“He’s an asshole, that’s what happened!” said Emily, trying to kick Dean away from her. Bobby immediately stopped her and divided the two siblings.

“For the love of Pete, stop hitting him! Be a fucking adult for three whole seconds!” he yelled.

“Me?!” Emily looked at the man, her eyes widening in anger.

“Yes, you!” he said, grabbing her by the arm again and forcing her to sit on the couch. He did the same with Dean. Emily avoided Dean's gaze and stared at the wall in front of her.

“GROW UP, BOTH OF YOU!” screamed Bobby. “Siblings fights, but this has gone too far!” Dean scoffed to word ‘siblings’. Emily rolled her eyes. “You are going to find a way to get along and you are going to do it now!” Bobby leaned on the wall behind him in front of them and gestured to them to go ahead. Ellen appeared through the door and whispered something to him. He whispered something back. The room stayed silent. Emily would have given anything to just be somewhere else. Sam is going to be back any minute now. She thought to herself. I have to get out of here before he does. I can't do this to him. She looked at Dean just long enough to recognize that he had been crying. Too fucking bad. Could have thought about it before being an asshole. She let a sob slip out and saw Dean roll his eyes.

“What?!” she said. “I’m not allowed to cry now?”

“What do you have to cry about?!” he asked. “You did this.” Emily immediately stood up, ready to throw her brother on the floor, but she was interrupted by Bobby’s voice.

“EMILY, SIT THE FUCK DOWN!” Emily rolled her eyes and fell back on the couch.

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“What would your brother say?” said Bobby, still staring at them. “Uh? What would Sam say if he was here right now?” Dean and Emily shared a quick look before going back to staring at an indefinite point in front of them. Emily knew exactly what he would say. But saying it would have required her to let their guard down. And she couldn't do it. Not with Dean. Especially not after what he said.

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Ellen leaned in to whisper something to Bobby. He nodded.

“I will be back in a second,” he said. “For your own good you better be still there when I come back.” He left the room with Ellen. Emily looked at Dean. He dried his face with the back of his hand. Emily sniffed. For a while, that was the only sound in the room. Emily tucked her legs on the couch and rested her head on her knees.

“You really can’t see it, can you?” she asked. “I also lost a brother. Again.”

“You don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Sure, yeah,” she whispered, “I never do. After all, I am just a kid, right?”

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Be the bigger person. That’s what Sam would have said. He would have told her to just say sorry, to be open. To be vulnerable. Although, she looked at Dean and she found herself only feeling anger.

“Did you even try to save him?” Dean asked. Emily's eyes tipped up.

“Of course I did,” she answered. “Why-”

“Are you sure?”

“He was stabbed in the spinal cord, there wasn’t much I could do.” Emily's feet slipped off the couch.

“So you didn’t even try?!” Dean rolled his eyes. “You just-”

“Jesus fucking christ- YES, I TRIED! I TRIED FOR HOURS BEFORE YOU SHOWED UP!” Emily showed him her wrists, but he didn't look at them. He stared in front of him. She stood up and kicked the table in front of her, making it fall to the ground. The shards of a beer bottle which was resting on it covered the floor in front of the couch and a strong scent of beer spread. “Please, just-” said Emily. “Just stop.” He ignored her. Bobby came back at that exact moment. He stared at Emily, then at the table. Then at Dean.

“Can you go 5 minutes without kicking anything?” He put the table back into a standing position. “Sit back down.” Emily sighed and sat back on the couch. “So, I am not your marriage counselor and it’s been an hour. Are you going to talk or what?!” Dean and Emily looked at each other for a second, then looked away.

“I swear to god-” whispered Bobby. “Emily, don’t you have anything to say to your brother? You’re only alive because he managed to send the fucking demon back to hell!” Emily turned towards Dean. Everything made sense. Sam wasn't coming back. The demon was gone, the gig was up.

“You did… what?!” Bobby tried to drag her down when Emily stood up, but she escaped his grip to walk in front of Dean. “The whole reason I did what I did was that he was gonna bring back Sam and you-”

“And you really believed him?” said Dean. “You really are more stupid than it looks.” He stood up too.

“I was trying to-”

“What?” said Dean. Bobby tried to intervene, but Emily stopped him. “What on earth were you thinking, working with a demon?! With the demon?!”

“You were going to kill yourself!” She pushed him, ignoring the sharp pain in her wrists. Dean pushed her back.

“So you decided to die first so you didn’t have to watch me?!” Emily swallowed. Dean's eyes widened. “That was the plan, wasn't it? You were going to kill yourself.” Emily remained silent. “God, you're fucked up. Like- in the worst way.” Emily tried to slap him, but he was faster and intercepted her arm. The moment she had to resist Dean’s strength, she felt the bones in her wrist shift, but didn't feel any pain. That had to be something with her powers. She could feel them climb up in her.

“I WAS TRYING TO SAVE YOUR UNGRATEFUL ASS!” she yelled.

“AND YOU COULDN'T FIGURE OUT A WAY THAT DIDN’T INVOLVE RISKING YOUR LIFE?”

“COULDN’T YOU?!” Dean tried to answer, but Emily talked over him. “I WAS GOING TO BRING SAM BACK! FOR YOU! AND I WAS GOING TO DIE SO THAT YOU WOULDN'T HAVE TO DEAL WITH ME ANYMORE!” Dean raised his hand to hit her but she stopped him just like he did with hers. They stared at each other, blocking each other’s arms. “All these years, I was wondering why it was so difficult for you to just behave like a brother with me. I figured it out: you're an asshole.” Bobby gave up on civility. He looked at them from a few feet away.

“You’re one to talk,” answered Dean. “You never lost a chance to remind me how bad I was doing at being your brother, even if I was trying my best!”

“That was you trying your best?!” Emily scoffed. “You never once treated me like a fucking human being! The nicest thing you call me is a bitch!”

“I call you a bitch because you are a bitch!” said Dean, pushing Emily away.

“Does that justify you forcing me off the ground while I was having a panic attack and couldn't breathe?!” Emily pushed Dean back.

“YOU BROKE MY NOSE!”

“I BROKE YOUR NOSE BECAUSE YOU AND DAD STRESSED ME SO MUCH MY BRAIN SNAPPED IN HALF LIKE A FUCKING BREADSTICK!”

“I DROVE YOU ALL THE WAY OUT HERE SO YOU COULD CALM THE FUCK DOWN!”

“I SPENT THE NIGHT IN THE HOSPITAL TRYING TO FIGURE OUT A WAY TO SAVE YOU!” Emily gave Dean one final push. She tried to punch him again but he stopped both her hands. Frustrated and unable to move, she tried to set herself free and started crying again. Soon, her legs started shaking and they gave up on her. She leaned onto Dean’s chest as he was still holding her up by the wrists. “I just wanted you to be my brother!” she said in between sobs. Breathing was becoming more difficult each second, her extremities going more and more numb as time went on. Dean let go of her arms, but she immediately reached for his wrist and held onto it, her nails digging into his skin like it was butter. With a grimace of pain, he tried to get rid of her hold, but she only made it tighter. She felt as if everything was collapsing under her feet and that wrist was the only thing to keep her afloat. Her crying became less and less intense as she lost the ability to breathe, her body completely overwhelmed by a panic attack. The moment her hands let go of Dean’s wrist, he walked back to his room and slammed the door behind him.

Days passed. Sam’s body was deep underground, and so was Dean’s mental state. He was drunk, all day, everyday. Emily didn’t know how to stop him anymore, if not by physically taking the bottle from him. But that made Dean angry. Very much so. And if for a few days after Sam’s burial, he’d just been sad, he quickly turned into the same violent, drunk dick John used to be. Like father, like son, thought Emily the first time Dean had punched her. She looked at him and saw nothing but hatred in his eyes. He hated her for not letting him bring Sam back. That hatred only grew stronger with every time she tried to keep him sober. And some days, that would be the end of it. He would look at her, say to leave him alone, and that was it. Other times, she would be too late, and he’d be too drunk. That was one of those nights. Emily knew the second she stepped foot in the kitchen. She pulled the sleeves of Sam’s flannel further down her arms, knowing full well if Dean saw the state her arms were in, he would have something to say about it, and that something wasn’t going to be nice. It would probably be along the lines of “you’re doing it wrong” or “vertical’d be the way to go”. She’d heard it before. But she’s also heard the sound of the bottle being slammed on the table progressively harder for a while. So, she’d walked down the stairs and inside the kitchen. She took the bottle from the table, but Dean was quick to grab her arm. She winced, the cuts on her arm stinging under the pressure of Dean’s fingers. She closed her eyes, hoping he wouldn’t notice as a cut opened back up and stained the flannel with blood.

“Give it back,” he said. Emily took a deep breath and shoved her arm away. She didn’t answer and turned the bottle to empty it in the sink. “Stop,” he said. “Stop and give it back.” Emily ignored him, more and more liquor falling down the drain. Dean stood up and tried to take the bottle back from her with force but she - somehow- fought him back.

“Leave me alone,” she said, pushing him back towards the table. “I don’t have it in me tonight.”

“You don’t have what in you?” asked Dean. She didn’t answer, the last drops of whiskey falling in the sink. “I asked you a question!” he yelled. When Emily didn’t answer, he tried to grab the bottle from her, but she reacted on instincts and used it to defend herself. As the bottle crashed and shattered on Dean’s face, he took a step back and touched his face where he was bleeding. Emily hissed, her palm dripping blood and liquor on the floor. Dean looked at his blood stained hand for a moment before pinning her to the wall. He looked at her, his eyes narrowing for a moment before he let go of her. She couldn’t for the life of her, figure out what the hell was going through his head in those moments. His mood’d be constantly swinging between trying to hurt her and being sorry for everything.

“S- Sorry, I-” he stuttered, taking a step back. Emily took a deep breath and decided that the best course of action would be to just go along with it.

“It’s fine,” she whispered. “Are you okay?” Dean nodded, but Emily saw him touch his face again where a red, swollen bruise was already forming. Emily touched her cheek for a moment. It had been swollen for weeks. It never had time to heal, because Dean and her were getting into fights almost every day. She opened the drawer next to her and took out a first aid kit. She sat next to Dean. “Come on, let me see.”

“You don’t need to-”

“Shut up,” she said, taking his face and turning it sideways. When Dean tried to move his hands towards hers, she slapped them away. He shook his head, but let her clean the cuts on his face in silence. “What do you want for dinner?” she asked a few minutes later, throwing away the blood-stained cloth she had been using.

“I’m not hungry,” said Dean. Emily filled a glass with water and placed it in front of him. He looked at her, rage filling his features again.

“Just drink the fucking water,” she said. Dean tried to open his mouth. “Don’t make me-” With a sweep of his hand, he threw the glass across the room, making it shatter a few inches away from Emily.

“I’m not a child!” he yelled, standing up. “You don’t need to give me water or- or cook for me!”

“Okay, Jesus!” said Emily. “Do it yourself, then!” Emily rolled her eyes and tried to leave the room. “I’ll-” Was all she could say before Dean spoke again.

“No, stay here,” he said. Emily sighed. She tried to open her mouth to answer, but Dean was faster. “I don’t care what you have to say, just sit the fuck down!” He grabbed her wrist again and dragged her back to the table. It still hurt, no matter how many pain killers she took. Emily fell down on a chair and remained silent. “It’s your fault,” he said. “All- all of this- it’s your fault!” Emily crossed her arms. “Why did you do it?!”

“I didn’t do anything,” said Emily. “And you know it.” Dean shook his head.

“You made me bury his body! It’s all your fault!” He repeated. Emily nodded.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Whatever.” Emily tried to stand back up, but Dean pinned her to the wall again. The chair where he was sitting fell to the floor. “Dean, let me go,” she said, trying her best to look calm. “You know this doesn’t work.” Not that it ever mattered. Not that staying calm had ever worked. And so it didn’t that morning. She could have used her powers to set herself free, but the only thing it had ever done was make Dean exponentially angrier, and she really didn’t have the patience to deal with that. “Dean, let-” Dean’s hand collapsed with her face and she closed her eyes, inhaling sharply to try and not react to the stinging pain on her cheek. “I bet you feel so much better now.” Dean slapped her again. She bit the inside of her cheek and closed her eyes. Ten. Nine. Eight. Dean put her down and she opened her eyes. Seven. Six. Five. He looked at his hands for a moment before turning. Four. Out of Dean’s line of sight, Emily took a deep breath and touched her face. Three. She hissed, in pain. Two. One. Right on time, Dean’s shoulders twitched. Emily sighed and dragged a hand across her face.

“Can I go now?” she asked. She really didn’t want to stop and comfort him after he’d hit her.

“You can do whatever the fuck you want,” said Dean, not turning. Emily left the room and closed the door behind her. She leaned on it. It was over. It was fine. Bobby was looking at her from the end of the hallway. He frowned.

“Please tell me I’m wrong,” he said. Emily shook her head. Don’t cry. She repeated to herself. Don’t fucking cry.

“Sweetheart, you can’t keep this thing going. It’s just gonna get worse.”

“It’s fine,” she whispered. “He’s right. I’m the reason Sam’s dead. I fucking deserve it.” That was not what Emily had planned to say, but she did anyway. She was too tired to hold back. Too drained of any mental energy to lie again. She heard a bottle collapse with the door behind her and smash. She winced. Bobby’s eyebrows raised. He walked closer to her.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m serious! Sam’s dead because of me, Dean’s right to hate me!” Bobby opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, looking between her and the kitchen door.

“Weren’t you going somewhere?” He finally said, nodding towards the stairs. Emily sighed and kept walking to the bathroom.

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” she heard Bobby yelling through the house. She locked the bathroom door and covered her ears. She started sobbing. “SHE HOLDS HERSELF RESPONSIBLE!” Stop. She pleaded in her mind, trying to control her breathing. “HAVE YOU SEEN HER ARMS? IT’S LIKE A FREAKING JACKSON POLLOCK!” Just stop. Emily’s breath cut to almost nothing, her lungs contracting without any coherence and stopping her from breathing. She laid on the floor in hopes that the cold tiles would help her calm down. Her vision was blurry and her limbs were numb. A few minutes later the door opened. Bobby helped her up.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said. Emily’s leg gave up. Bobby wrapped a hand behind her shoulder and groaned under her weight but did, nevertheless, walk her to her room. Emily sat on her bed, her legs shaking and her breath short. She was starting to get light headed. She needed to calm down or she was going to pass out. Bobby crouched in front of her. “Focus on me, okay sweetheart? You gotta breathe right.” Emily nodded. She tried to inhale, but her lungs didn’t comply. She folded at her waist, coughing. Bobby sighed and looked around. He located a paper bag that probably used to contain take out. “Here,” he said. “It’s supposed to help.” Emily tried to hold the piece of paper, but the tension in her body was too much, she was shaking, her hand wouldn’t grip on the paper. Her crying intensified as she repeatedly slammed her hand on the mattress, frustrated. Bobby crouched in front of her. He didn’t know what to do. Emily could tell. There was only one person who could help her. Only one person that would have been able to calm her down.

“HE’S DEAD!” she screamed. “JESUS, BOBBY, HE’S FUCKING DEAD!” Bobby tentatively put a hand on Emily’s shoulder. Emily’s sobbing only increased. Bobby stood back up.

“Kid, give me just a minute. I’ll be back.” He left the room. Emily tried several times to tame her lungs before she managed to get one deep breath. Then, she very slowly calmed down. Bobby re-entered the room about an hour later.

“That was a long minute,” sighed Emily. She was brushing her hair after taking a well deserved shower to wash away the leftover panic. Bobby ignored her remark.

“We need to talk, kid.” At those words, Emily moved her eyes from the mirror to Bobby. “I talked with Ellen.”

“No.” said Emily. “Bobby-”

“She agreed on letting her stay with her and Jo for a while. Until this blows over.” Emily put down the brush.

“I’m not going to move to- No!” she complained.

“Listen, all this talk about how  you deserve it and it’s all your fault- it's out of control.” Emily looked at Bobby, eyes wide in shock. “Not negotiable.”

“Wh-”

“I would start packing if I were you.”

Later that night she was in her room, reluctantly packing, when her attention was raised by the sound of glass breaking. She walked down the stairs. Something else broke.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Emily said, entering the kitchen, worried. There stood Dean, a beer bottle in his hand and several broken glass shards lying on the floor in front of him. “Give me that,” she said, extending her hand towards the bottle he was holding. Dean didn’t move. “I said-” she took a step and forced the bottle out of his hands. Not putting up any fight, he let her take the bottle. “Dean!” She snapped her fingers in front of him. “What is going on?!” Just like someone who is permanently trapped in a box, Dean stared in front of him with the empty eyes. She figured he was way past the violent level of drunk. That he had kept drinking after Bobby had taken over. Emily grabbed Dean’s face and unceremoniously turned him towards her. The cold from her hands seemed to wake Dean up. He looked at her just like he had just noticed her presence. His eyes filled with tears. “Wait, are you-” she let go of him, shocked. It was the first time Emily saw Dean crying after Sam had died. Dean rolled his eyes and turned the other way, putting his hands on the border of the sink, his head dangling in between. “Dean, what’s going on?” She heard him sniff as an answer. She put a hand on his shoulder and made him turn her way. She would much rather see him angry and on the verge of punching her. Anything but like that. “Come here,” she said, pulling him towards her. He strongly smelled of liquor, even more than usual. He broke down crying as soon as she wrapped him with her arms. Dean Winchester wasn't a sobber, but Emily felt his body wince several times. Suddenly, it felt like she was holding a porcelain doll. Like he was going to break if she wasn’t too careful. Or maybe like if he was already broken. “It’s alright,“ she whispered. She let him cry on her shoulder. When Emily felt Dean's heart go back to a normal rate, she unwrapped her arms from around him. She cupped his face, just like her mother would always do to her when she cried, and dried his face with her thumbs. She didn't know what the fuck she was doing. All she knew was that for some reason, all she wanted to do was help. Because maybe that was the time she fixed him. And she wouldn't have to move. “What about some coffee? Dry up your head a little?” He nodded. Dean sat down at the table and Emily filled the coffee maker with water. With a familiar beep she had heard several times everyday since they landed at Bobby’s, it started heating itself up. The coffee scent started spreading in the kitchen. “First things first,“ she said, opening the cabinet. “...water.” She filled two glasses with water and placed one in front of Dean while keeping one for herself. He didn't seem to pay too much attention to the gesture, still wrapped in whatever he was overthinking about. “Dean!” she called. “Drink the water.” He automatically grabbed the glass and started drinking. “Did you have any dinner?”

“Yes- I- uh… No,” he said. Two seconds later, the sound of a pan hitting metal echoed in the room. “Come on, Emily, you don't have to do this...” Emily ignored him and moved a couple of blood jars to finally reveal the peanut butter she had bought weeks before. She sniffed it. Good enough. Then, it was time to find the jam, which luckily resided in the fridge, and the bread. She lit the fire under the pan and started toasting the bread. She poured coffee into a cup and handed it to Dean. “I told you, it's not-”

“Drink it,” she said, moving the cup closer to him. “You've been the big brother all your life. Let me be the older one for a second, okay?” He looked at her for a second before taking a sip of the coffee. She forced a smile and went back to the bread. Soon, it was toasted and Dean had a peanut butter and jelly toast in front of him. “Do you want me to take crusts away or...” She joked, unwrapping a snack bar, she sat on the table. Dean looked at the food but hesitated to eat it. She pushed the plate a little closer to him. He suddenly stood up.

“Emily, I said it's fine,” he said.

“Come on, Dean, it's just food!” Dean's fists clenched and he put them on the table.

“Drop the act,” he said. “Bobby told me.” Emily felt her blood freeze in her veins before resuming its regular course at full speed. “I hope you're happy, finally getting rid of me.”

“Getting rid of-” Emily frowned.

“Yeah, you think I don’t see it? You can’t wait to leave,” said Dean. Emily raised her eyebrows.

“Dean, that’s not true-”

“Right,” he said, sarcastic. Emily scoffed.

“I literally just cooked you your first meal in what, two days? What is the next thing you say going to be, that I don’t care about you?”

“That’s exactly my next point, yes.” said Dean.

“Are you serious?”

“Never been more serious.” said Dean. Emily pushed herself away from the table.

“So you really think that I don’t give a shit?” Dean also stood up from the chair.

“You wouldn’t leave if you actually cared!”

“Dean-” she stuttered, getting more and more nervous. “I am being forced to leave by Bobby because you keep acting like a fucking asshole.” They stayed in complete silence. Dean didn’t answer and Emily eventually leaned against the table again. “Dean?” she called a while later. Dean raised his eyes from the table.

“Uh?”

“You’re going to pick up hunting again. aren’t you.”

“Maybe.” To that answer, Emily couldn't help but shiver. Emily closed her eyes.

“Ok,” she said with a deep sigh. Dean scoffed.

“See? If you cared, you would have fought me on this.”

“Do you want me to fight you on that?” The clock ticked, the room silent for what seemed like hours.

“Yeah,” said Dean. Emily pushed herself away from the table. She walked around the it so that she would be in front of Dean.

“Why on earth would you go back to hunting?” she asked.

“It’s the family business. People are dying because we are not out there,” said Dean. Emily clenched her fists.

“Dean, hunting took everything away from us! I mean, your mother, my mother, Sam, dad, Alex-” She said.

“That’s exactly why I do that: so that no other families are ruined.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yes but Dean, what about you?”

“What about me?”

“When are you going to decide it’s your turn to be happy?” she sighed. “When is it your family's turn?”

“So what, now I make you unhappy?”

“How do you think being your punching bag makes me feel?!” Emily took a deep breath, holding back tears. Not now Emily, don’t start crying now. “This is not you, and I know losing Sam hurts like hell-” She said. “I’m trying to be the older sibling here, okay? I am trying, but you-” She winced, unable to control a sob. She put both hands on the table. “You’re making it damn hard to keep helping you.”

“Emily-”

“What?!” She walked on the other side of the table to face Dean. “Emily what? You want to punch me? Cool.” Emily pushed him. “Give Bobby more reasons to make me leave.”

“I should have guessed you would have jumped at the first chance of getting rid of me,” said Dean.

“You know what?” she said, raising her hands in defeat. “Why do I keep trying with you? You don't care about being siblings, you just want to fight! You are so frustrated you have to turn on those who are trying to help you, damn it!”

“I am not-”

“SHUT UP!” She made a window explode to her left. She did it on purpose. Just to prove a point. “SHUT THE FUCK UP! I am busting my ass out to keep you fucking alive, and you have the nerve to tell I don’t care? I AM DONE! YOU WANT ME TO NOT CARE SO BAD? WELL, ENJOY!”

Ellen was due to come pick her up the following morning. When Bobby came to knock on Emily’s room, he found it empty. Just a piece of paper on the bed.

I’ll figure it out.

The movie in my mind

From Miss Saigon

Her life looked normal. After staying in a terrible motel for a while, she started seeing Daniel, the guy she had met at the fitness track, more and more often and after a few weeks he just asked her to move in with him. Which was weird, and rushed, and sudden, but he probably felt bad about her sleeping in her car. She didn't like him. It wasn't love. It was just what had to be done. It was just what being normal meant.

Her life looked perfectly fine, she went grocery shopping and worked extra shifts at work to pay for rent and food and she would make pizza for her, Daniel and all their friends. They would have outdoor trips and go clubbing on saturday nights, when Daniel wasn’t working. Nothing that any other 18 year old would not have done. She had swore herself to never talk about her brothers with Daniel. Emily knew he would not understand.  So she just left them or any reference to her past life outside of her relationship. And that was secret number one.

Secret number two was her real job. Daniel and all their friends thought she was a bartender, but that was not quite right. She finally had found a use of all those years of ballet, and became a stripper. At first, she wasn't sure why she'd gotten into it. But with months passing, it got clearer. It was because stripping, which had evolved into just selling her body to “trusted clients” in just a few weeks, was the closest thing to hurting herself that didn't leave any marks. Not unless she asked for them. Of course, she did not like it. Which led her to drink. And drink more. And more. Some nights she would just lay there, whispering dirty words to whoever was fucking her, falling asleep at three minutes interval. Not that it pissed anybody off. No. The people that paid her were so disgusting they probably enjoyed her being drunk and half asleep way more than they enjoyed her being awake. Her life looked normal, but it wasn't. Nothing about her life was normal.Just this once. Then I'll quit, she always said. But she never did.

While she wandered around the aisles at the grocery shop, she found herself thinking about Dean. She had no news of him since she had left. He didn't try to reach out to her and she didn't either. She had to imagine that after all those months, he would already have started hunting again.  Maybe he was dead. The thought stopped her in the middle of the supermarket. She shook it away and kept walking. She would have never admitted it to a single living soul, but she missed him and she missed Sam. She didn't miss the fights or the pain and the hunting, she missed always having them around. She missed Sam pretending to bite her arm every time she answered “Bite me.” and she missed sitting in silence doing research. She missed having someone she didn't have to lie to as often. Every single second of her life felt like a lie. She lived with a boyfriend that thought she used to live in Kansas and had moved into South Dakota after her parents divorced. A boyfriend she didn't even like, let alone love. Her friends liked to joke about how she had never had a real problem in her life before that, that she was so naive and soft. If only they had seen what lied under her sleeves. As bad as her old life was, at least it was with people who knew the real her, the one which had made Dean mad cold killing a shapeshifter that looked like him without double checking first, the one who opened the gates of hell trying to get her brother’s attention. The one who had thrown tables and sewn wounds, the one who slept for two days after having a nervous breakdown. The one that she dreaded so much. The one she was striving to hurt every single time she left to go to work, hiding, at night. And that’s what she did that night, after Daniel had left to go work a long shift at the hospital. She hopped into her car and drove to the Sky Lounge. With the Sky Lounge came a lot of secret friends, which all shared the same thing: they would not say their actual name. The nickname the rest of the girls chose for her was Sam. Ironic. The girls at the Sky Lounge were good. They tried to be there for each other. They walked each other to their cars, gave each other lifts… They tried to keep each other safe. They had to.

That night, she got out on stage and something felt off. The atmosphere was more tense than usual, especially around a specific table, where two men appeared to be arguing. When she turned back, two other girls from the backstage also seemed nervous about the commotion. Apart from the unusually tense mood, everything else went as usual. After finishing her show, she chugged five shots with the bartender and then, quite drunk, headed out to her “trusted client”. After forty five endless minutes of low quality, no lube sex, she got her money, got into her car and locked herself in. She drew a big breath and tried to resist the urge to cry, covering her face with her hands and opening a crack in the window to let some summer air in. She opened her eyes, vision still blurry from the tears and started the engine. A familiar figure was staring at her from a distance, in the shadows. For a second, she thought it was Sam but then, after drying her eyes, the figure was gone. She deemed it on the alcohol. She got home and entered the shower, her thoughts wandering back to Dean. She dried her hair and stared at her phone. A call could not hurt, right? Maybe a text. Or maybe it wasn’t any of her business. She already had enough problems on her own to think about what Dean had been doing. The following days, she went to work and tried to not think about Dean for a minute. Occasionally, she would stare at his contact on her phone and thought about calling him. The worst thing that could happen was that it would go to voicemail. But again, she had enough problems. Weeks passed. Her life kept being extremely fake and painful while still looking extremely happy and normal.

She was preparing a birthday cake for a party later that night, musical theater tunes in the background, when someone knocked on the door. She licked the frosting away from her fingers, humming to the Grease soundtrack and walked to the door. She opened the door and it took her a handful of seconds to realize she was looking at Dean.

“Hey there,” he said with a tight smile. She looked behind her, hoping Daniel had not seen her brother, but there he was, coming down the stairs.

“Are they here already?” he asked while closing the last button of his shirt. Emily looked back at Dean.

“Uh- no, Dan, this- this is Robert,“ she lied. “He’s an old family friend.” Daniel arrived at the door. He moved his hand toward Dean to shake his.

“Oh, cool! I’ve never met anybody from Emily’s family. Are you like an… uncle?” He smiled.

“Something like that, yes,” answered Dean with another tight smile. “Emily, can I- can we speak for a minute? In private?”

“Actually,” she said, already trying to close the door. “...we are kind of busy, can I maybe call you later?”

“Oh, nonsense!” Daniel said, walking past Emily and opening the door again. “Come in, I’ll make coffee!” He welcomed Dean in and disappeared inside of the kitchen. Sometimes Emily loved how he was always so happy and cheerful, but in that moment, she could not help but hate him.

“So...” said Dean, following Daniel with his gaze. “You got the life you wanted, uh? Picket fence, surfer-type boyfriend… You really-”

“What do you want?” she cut him short. Dean scoffed.

“What, I can’t come visit my little sister?” He asked.

“We haven’t spoken in months,” she answered, nervous. “Why are you here?”

“Nice house, by the way,” he said, sitting on the couch. “What is this, eleven, twelve hundred dollars each month?”

“Dean.” Dean raised his hands in front of him, apologetic.

“I’m just saying, you know? You came a long way.”

“Why are you here?!” she repeated. Dean sighed.

“Alright, it’s about a case.” Emily scoffed.

“A c- you're kidding, right?!”

“Your workplace is run by demons.” Emily didn't have the time to ask him what he was talking about, because Daniel got out of the kitchen holding two cups of coffee. Dean smiled and followed him inside the living room. Emily rolled her eyes and closed the door. When she arrived in the living room, Daniel was sitting in front of Dean, leaving Emily only one spot to sit: next to Dean.

“So, Robert, right?” Asked Daniel. “I’m Daniel.”

“Nice to meet you, Daniel. So...” Dean put on a quaint smile and leaned back on the couch. “How did you two meet?” He suggestively raised his eyebrows, gazing at Emily. She scowled at him.

“We met at the fitness track and, well, you know… Life did its thing.” Daniel smiled and reached for Emily’s hand. She smiled, nervous. “So, what do you do?”

“Me?” asked Dean. “Oh, I’m just a car mechanic.” Daniel smiled.

“Oh, just like your dad, right?” he said, holding Emily’s hand.

“Yeah,” she smiled. “It’s… kind of the family business, you know?” She glared at Dean, who was suggestively smiling.

“It really is,” he said. “And, you know- we always wanted Emily to join in as well, but, well- “ Emily turned to him, begging him to stop with her eyes. “…medicine was more important I guess.”

“Medicine?” asked Daniel, confused. “What do you mean?”

“You didn’t know?” said Dean, pretending to be surprised. “Emily was in pre-med! She was gonna be a doctor.”

“You were?”

“Yes, I-” she stuttered. ”...I was, but it was so long ago, you know.”

“What happened?” Daniel had suddenly become worried. Dean tried to speak, but Emily interrupted him to say

“Money problems. College is expensive and my parents could not afford it.” Emily drew a sign of relief when the friends she was actually expecting arrived at the door. As Daniel went to let them in, Emily found herself alone with Dean again.

“Come here,” she said, dragging him through the living room and out the back door. Emily looked around, making sure she wasn’t being listened to. “So what, you stalk me now?!”

“What, follow you? No, of course not,” he answered, confused. “I went to check out the case and saw you there.” Emily scratched her nose, thinking.

“Was I-” She stuttered, gesturing at her chest.

“Yep,” Dean looked away. Emily didn't answer. “It’s the Russians,” said Dean. “They’re possessed.”

“Right,” she said, biting the inside of her cheek.

“They’re using the Sky Lounge to trick people into making deals.” said Dean. “We-”

“I hope you don’t expect me to help you,” she said. “I'm out, Dean.”

“Actually, I do.”

“You- Jesus Christ.” She turned away from him and walked towards the door. “You really are something else, aren’t you?”

“Come on, Emily, I don’t need you to hunt or anything, I just need a hand luring them out!”

“So, let me get this straight,” she said. “You show up here, after months of no contact, after you accused me of not caring enough-” Dean sighed and traced his face with his hand. “...After pushing me over the edge over and over again and you have the nerve to ask for help?” Dean nodded.

“You’re right. Sorry.” Emily stared at him. “I know I don't deserve your help, but I need someone from the inside.”

“No, absolutely not. I am not putting myself against the fucking Russians. Especially now that I know they are possessed.”

“Emily- Okay, listen, I really am-” Daniel appeared in the doorway.

“Em, are you ready? We're about to go.”

“Yes, just give me five minutes, okay?” She smiled. Her eyes lingered where he disappeared through the door. There was no way she would risk the little happiness Daniel could bring her for someone who had shown her time and time again he did not care about being a good brother. “Dean, no. I am sorry.” Dean rolled his eyes. “All of this, you showing up here, trying to get me back into hunting- I can't put up with this anymore. I have a life here. I have people who actually love me and they are not afraid of showing that to me.”

“I-”

“I am trying my best here to move on. So please, please- don't call me, don't try to come here, just- go live your life.” Dean shook his head and left. She went back inside, quickly got dressed and they all got out to party.

Intermission

---

Tara Reed wasn’t a regular hunter. She was barely a hunter anymore, or so she thought of herself. Sure, the Life follows you everywhere, but she’d sworn to the normalcy of civilian life the second she got pregnant. She’d been wanting an out all her life, but her own safety had never been enough for her to get a permanent address. Emily’s safety, however, - that was a whole other thing.

Tara’s life had been plagued by the supernatural from the second she was born. Grandma Colette had tried to keep Tara and her mother Margaret out of the Life, but Margaret had other plans. She wanted to avenge what happened to her dad and husband. Tara never knew what happened to her grandpa. Or her own dad. Her mother died before ever finding out.

Some hunters used to run homes - most of them closed down by the time Tara was eighteen - where hunters could stay if they were in trouble. Some sort of motels, but with an occult library. That was where Tara was staying when her mother went missing. Tara never saw her again. She was fourteen. The hunting community in Rivergrove took her in and she grew up surrounded by hunters. The Community took care of figuring out what happened to Margaret. To Tara’s dismay, her mother had been killed by the ghosts of a random Delaware couple. A terrible - unpredictable accident that left Tara to her own devices. She became a hunter herself, but with one cardinal rule: vengeance gets you dead, so you never seek it.

By the time Tara was sixteen, she’d been mentored by several hunters. When the Hunter House closed down, she ventured alone. It was only her and her idealistic eighteen year-old brain: make the world a better place, one gig at the time. And never, ever, look for vengeance, because vengeance gets you dead.

On November 11th, 1990, when Tara Reed went into labour, she wasn’t  accompanied by a concerned, loving, caring partner. She was alone. She showed up to the hospital alone and, a couple of days later, still alone, she drove baby Emily home. As she secured her into the back of her car, Tara looked at those big, emerald green eyes and promised herself that Emily was never going to know of anything remotely supernatural or evil.

Emily’s name had a special meaning in the Reed family. Whenever grandma Colette would drink a few glasses of wine, she liked to talk about aunt Emily at length.

Aunt Emily was Margaret’s sister, and she’d chosen the normal life, just like grandma Colette had always wanted for all of them. Grandma Colette herself used to be a hunter, but her husband was killed on the Job, and she took the out.

Tara had never seen Aunt Emily in person, and once grandma Colette died, she’d never heard of either of them again. Her mother didn’t like to talk about their family. But she remembered Aunt Emily’s name - and often thought about the fact that she never had to defile a grave, which was what she wanted for her own daughter. Grandma Colette would have been proud to know someone had finally listened to her advice.

Tara looked at the newly rented house and thought it a bit empty. It lacked someone to share it with. Another adult. She looked at her phone and thought about calling him for a moment. Then he thought of what he’d said that night.

“This case is taking too long,” he’d said, “you know I’m looking for the thing that killed Mary.” Tara knew, the second she’d heard of Mary, that there wouldn’t be any wedding bells for her and John Winchester, as much as she would have wanted them. He was after vengeance. And vengeance gets you dead. John heard her say those words and shook his head, dismissive. He pushed the thin, paper-like motel covers away from him and disappeared into the bathroom.

They’d been sleeping together for two months, and Tara didn’t know how to tell him she was falling in love with him. The Life moves fast. Two months in hunter time are three years in regular person time, and they never had the what-are-we talk. They’d shared a couple of near death experiences, and that was it. They’d have sex about it afterwards. Even though John liked to repeat that he worked best alone, they’d been sticking together for a longer case. Tracking down demons, painfully getting information out of them. Tara knew there was no convincing him: John wasn’t as sweet and loving and caring in life as he was behind closed doors, and he wasn’t going to give up avenging Mary. Tara knew, deep down, that she was just a cheap, temporary replacement for what used to be his true love. She didn’t like to think about that, because she was almost sure John was her own true love. She couldn’t imagine her life with anybody else. Problem was, when she imagined her future, she imagined picket fences, when John imagined his future, he only saw hunting.

        Emily had John’s eyes. Tara couldn’t look at her daughter without thinking of him. Wherever he was, if he was still alive, if he was still seeking vengeance. Or if vengeance had already gotten him dead. Emily was ten, and had never had to defile a grave. And she never was going to. She was never going to be forced to shoot a gun or learn an exorcism. She was never going to hear about demons or ghosts or any other supernatural being. Emily was homeschooled. She was in theater, ballet and music. Tara was looking into enrolling Emily into high school at the beginning of the school year. It was about time she went to school with other kids, even if significantly older. Tara couldn’t help but think about those two kids. Sam and Dean. John would never shut up about them. By then, they would have been seventeen and twenty two. If they were lucky, Dean - the oldest one - would already have run and brought Sam with him to a safer life.

The boy from Michigan happened to be passing in South Dakota. He was going on holiday with his mom. He was fourteen, and he hadn't thought about the spelling bee in a long time. He was still a gifted student, and still had ambition. He wanted to work with computers, invent something like Facebook, that website from Mark Zuckerberg, or MySpace, which he'd forgotten to update for a few weeks.

His mother had insisted he nevertheless kept studying music, quoting benefits to brain health and memory. The boy suspected she didn't think computers were a stable enough career. But so wasn't music, which was why he had to have straight As in all subjects. While he was waiting for his mother to pump gas, he noticed a music shop right next to the gas station. Making sure his mother saw where he was going, he went to check it out. Emily was ordering the newest releases alphabetically, and didn't see the boy until he pushed the door open and entered. It was just another job that was going to last a few weeks. She greeted him. The boy barely answered, his attention stolen by the music sheet shelf. It covered an entire wall and it contained hundreds and hundreds of music sheets - which Emily had to order by instrument, author and title, to an insane amount of songs of different genres. “Do you play?” asked Emily, stopping her diligent sorting to walk next to the boy. He nodded. “Is there anything in particular you want? The guy who runs the place is like a musical genius. He wrote all these himself, just based on hearing the song.” The boy secretly wanted to ask for Love Story by Taylor Swift, but instead decided not to risk an awkward encounter and asked for Viva La Vida. “Coldplay, uh?” said Emily with a smile. “Good choice.”

That was the first interaction the boy and Emily ever had, but either of them was going to remember it by the time they would meet a second time.

Invisible

From Beetlejuice - The Musical

March, 7th, 2008

Dear Dean.

I don’t even know how to begin this letter. I hope it finds you well, I guess.

First of all, let’s get this straight: I’m dead. 

If you are reading this I am sure you already know what happened to me.

There's no way to put it lightly. You ruined everything.

I wasn't happy, mind you, but I was trying. And now,I am about to overdose on some pills one of the girls at Sky Lounge uses to calm down.

That’s right, after all this time, I finally found the courage to just put an end to my misery.

And, surprise surprise, it's all your fault.

After you came to see me, I went to work, as always. Just that time, the Russians weren’t so happy to see me. You see, that stunt of yours, you coming to ask me to get back into hunting, it tipped them off at the fact we are siblings.

They thought if they had me, you were going to look for me.

Idiots.

But they eventually realized. You were not coming. Nobody was. And when they did, they punished me for it.

They drugged me.

I could not stop them or react.

I don’t think you would want to know the details, but let’s just say I was used like a piece of meat. Quite literally.

I can't stand another second with the images of what I have gone through these past days. The amount of times I have begged.

320. Three hundred twenty times and I could not get any mercy.

And it's all your fault.

Fuck you.

Dear Bobby

Don’t worry, I’ll keep this short.

I am very sorry it had to go this way, but I want you to know you were the closest thing to a parent I’ve had since my mother died. Thank you for being more of a dad than John ever was.

Love you

Emily.

Invisible (reprise)

From Beetlejuice - The Musical

Dean leaned back on the Impala. He’d done it. Twenty eight years of preparation, countless nights spent thinking about that exact moment. The moment the demon that killed his mom would be dead. Sam threw his duffel in the backseat and leaned next to him. He took a deep breath.

“You know, when- when Jake’s ghost said…” Sam looked in front of him for a few seconds. Dean closed his eyes. “He said he killed me, Dean.”

“Aren’t you glad he was wrong?” Dean looked at his shoes, then at Sam again. It was a big lie, but he had to keep it going. As long as he could. For the rest of his life, if he could manage.

“I- I don’t know if he was,” said Sam. Dean dragged his hand across his face. Sam had no reason to believe Jake over him, right? The secret was safe. And with him, all the subsequent secrets he’d been keeping. How he died, what happened after he died, how Emily died. “What happened?” asked Sam. “After I was stabbed?” Well I’ll be damned. Sam truly had to be one hell of a psychic. There was no way in hell he knew what was going on.

“I already told you,” said Dean.

“Not everything,” answered Sam. And Dean could have sworn, Sam knew something was up. But he should have known better than to try to hide something from him. Sam always knew if something was wrong. Always.

“Sam, we just killed the demon,” he said, trying to avoid answering a question he really had no answers to. What happened after he was stabbed? How was he supposed to explain that to Sam? “Can we celebrate for a minute?”

“Did I die?” Dean looked away and forced a chuckle out of himself. He had to play it cool. He had no other choice. “Did you sell your soul for me, like dad did for you?”

“What?!” Dean said. “Come on, no!” He tried to laugh again, but he couldn’t. Not while Sam stared him down. Fuck. He thought. He knows, he definitely knows. “I said no!”

“Tell me the truth,” Sam whispered as his eyes filled with tears. Dean looked away. There had to be a way to save it, right? Sure, one secret was out, but the other ones? He could save it. “Dean-” Dean bit the inside of his cheek, holding on for dear life to the last sanity he had and trying not to cry. Not in front of Sam. “How long did you get?” Dean sighed.

“One year,” he said. Sam sniffed and nodded. He dried his face with his palm, just like when he was a kid. “I got one year.”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” said Sam. “How- How-”

“Don’t get mad at me, okay? Don’t do that! I- I had to look out for you and- and- My only regret is that I didn’t do it sooner.” Dean immediately regretted his words. Not one single complete conversation on Emily had been carried out since Sam had been back. Not one, mostly because Dean avoided the topic.

“Why?” asked Sam. “Why did it take you so long?”

“Emily,” Dean whispered, staring at his shoes. “She- She stopped me. The night you died.”

“So you… Waited for her to die?” Dean didn’t answer. He looked at Sam for a moment, and it was like he was looking at her again. Just, without the anger. Actually, with less anger. What Sam didn’t know- and he never was to know - was that Dean had wanted Emily dead so many times in those three months, he was disgusted with himself to even think about it. He’d rarely felt so much hatred towards a human, and for what? Just to find himself unable to stop crying over her coffin.

There was no funeral, no nothing. Just him and Bobby, looking at Emily being lowered in the ground. Bobby never said anything, and Dean had accurately avoided showing back to his house after that day, because he knew full well he blamed him. And he was right. Dean was to blame. Everything that happened to her, the job at the Sky Lounge, her kidnapping, her assaults - the mere word brought shivers to his spine- her suicide, they were his fault. And he was never going to forgive himself, just like Bobby was probably never going to forgive him. Emily was the daughter he could never have, and Dean killed her. Why? Because she was there when Sam died, and he wasn’t. Because he was too late, but she wasn’t. But mostly, because he didn’t let him bring Sam back. Or, how she put it - she didn’t let him kill himself. It was gut wrenching to think that she did it - and he couldn’t stop her. In fact, he wouldn’t even know it until almost a week later. She was already too bad to be seen or identified. Her body was already starting to decompose. It didn’t take Dean long to bring Sam back, after that.

“You did,” said Sam. “You did wait for her to die, so-”

“Sam-” Dean tried to say.

“No, no, Dean- I died, she died and you- you only brought me back?” Okay, shit- Sam had no idea of how long passed between his death and Emily’s. Dean had told him a story. She managed to kill Jake, but he stabbed her, too. That she was in and out of consciousness for a week, but didn’t make it, but Sam did.  “Why?” Dean didn’t answer. He didn’t know how. He hadn’t thought that deep into his lie.

“My job is to look after you,” said Dean. Sam shook his head. “It is, dad-”

“Okay, but who looked after Emily?!” he asked. Dean looked away. “That’s right,”

“Sam-”

“No, Dean, she- she deserved better than us.” Dean shook his head. “She deserved better than you.”

“That is a nice way to say thank you,” Dean said, crossing his arms. Sam shook his head. “Dude, what do you want me to tell you?! Give you a long speech about how I had to decide between her and you?” Dean said. Sam scoffed. “I didn’t have to decide, okay? She was the only reason I didn’t bring you back sooner, because she asked me not to. But then she died. And so-  I brought you back.”

“How do you sleep at night?” asked Sam. That was a good question. Dean didn’t sleep at night. “Look, you- you’re my brother, okay? And I’d do anything for you. I’ll get you out of this deal, you hear me?” Dean nodded. “But I’d have done it for Emily, too.”

“Sam-”

“I hope you’re okay with living the rest of your life knowing she died thinking you’re an asshole.”

“Oh, come on, Sam,” said Dean. “It’s Christmas. Do we really have to drive all the way back to Sioux Falls? Can't we… relax? Have some eggnog?”

“Yes!” said Sam. “Don’t you get it? It was Emily’s favourite holiday!”

“Says who?!” said Dean. “Dude, she barely talked to us, don’t- don’t act like you knew everything about her or something, bec-”

“Stop the car,” said Sam. Dean looked at him. “I said stop the car!” Dean pulled over the side of the road. Sam swung the door open and grabbed his backpack from the back.

“Sammy, come on!” said Sam. “Would you really rather spend Christmas with a dead kid than-”

“She's not some kid! She's our sister!”

“She never wanted in the family, okay?! She hated us!”

“She was barely seventeen, you jerk! She didn't hate either of us! She was scared and- and-”

“Either way, she-”

“Look, are we going to Sioux Falls or not?!” asked Sam. “I'm not going to argue with you on this anymore, Dean, I'm tired of hearing you say the same things about her, day in and day out!” Dean turned off the engine. He opened the door and walked towards Sam. “You need to face it! You were the one who had a problem with her! She was a good kid, and you didn't even try to save her!”

“You don't know what you're talking about!”

“I don't?!” said Sam. “You're gonna tell me she didn't scare you?”

“Wh-”

“She reminded you of how angry and- and scared as you were when you were her age- and that terrified you! Because she refused to stuff it in like you do!” Dean looked at him and shook his head. “You can pretend all you want, but the fact she's dead is messing with you and I can tell!”

“We're not going to Sioux Falls,” said Dean. “And that's final. You want to go- you're gonna have to walk.”

“Hey kid,” said Sam, standing over Emily's grave. “So, you've been gone for six months now,” he looked around. No one else was at the cemetery. “I know you can't hear me, but… I don't know, you used to love Christmas, and…” Sam took a deep breath. “I'm sorry this happened to you, I- I feel like this is all my fault.” An old lady walked past Sam and disappeared behind a corner. “I miss you kid,”

“You know she can't hear you, right?” Sam turned. Dean was standing a few steps away.

“What are you doing here?”

“It's my last Christmas, dude,” answered Dean. “It would suck to spend it alone.” Sam shook his head as Dean walked next to him. “You know, I thought about what you said,” he said. “Maybe you're right, maybe I was… scared of her or whatever.” Sam shook his head. “But it's late now, okay? She's dead. And you have to move on.”

“No,” said Sam. “I don't have to do anything, okay? And trust me, if I could, if- if I didn't swear to you I was going to save you,” said Sam. Dean looked at him. “I wouldn't bother keeping you around.” Dean looked back at the cemetery entrance. He shook his head, looked at Emily's grave for a moment and then walked away.

“I'll wait by the car,” he said.

Act II

Wait for me

From Hadestown

Emily opened her eyes and felt warmth on her face. She had not felt it in a long, long time. Her body’s first reaction was to take air in. She gasped as she moved the dirt from her face. The last thing she remembered from being alive was taking a dozen pills and then laying on the bed, just waiting for the pain to finally stop, for the memories to leave her alone. For the hands to stop touching her.

Then there was hell. But that was over, too. Or at least, that's what it looked like. How could it be over? She was dead, and Dean surely wasn’t going to bring her back. Not after what they’d gone through. Not after he got her killed. She laid on the grass and stared at the blue sky. Like the residual memories from a dream, the more she thought about hell, the less she could remember. For a moment, just for a second, she thought  Dean was down there. But it made no sense. She looked around: yard after yard of dried out grass. She turned. She didn’t have a headstone. They’d just buried her in a random field. It had been decades. How could she still be all in one piece? She looked down. She was wearing her own clothes. She was in her own body. The same body she had when she died. So, she was alive. And she was sitting in a random field in the middle of nowhere. Nothing else to do if not find a way back. Back where? Bobby. He’d have helped her. If he was even still alive. She stood up and cleaned herself from the dirt she was covered in. And then she walked, for what seemed like hours, until she saw a gas station, entered and asked to make a call. Bobby was a long shot, after all that time, but it was her only shot. Bobby’s voice answered the phone.

“Hello?” he said, the usual pissed off tone.

“Bobby, it’s- it’s me,” she said. Bobby was alive? Maybe it had been less than she thought. Maybe just one decade.

“Me who?” asked Bobby. Emily looked behind her and lowered her voice.

“Bobby, it's Emily!”

click

“Oh, come on-” she whispered, redialing the number. The barman looked at her, nervous, a hand hovering over a hidden part of the bar. Bobby picked up the phone.

“Who is this?!” he asked, angry. Emily cleared her voice.

“Bobby, listen, I swear it’s me!” she said.

“Yeah, good try.” Before she could say anything, Bobby closed the call. She sighed and asked directions for the nearest bus stop. It turned out, she was in South Dakota. And Bobby wasn’t that far. Maybe a few more hours of walking. The bartender looked at her, his own phone already in hand, probably ready to call the police on that weird, dangerously thin girl who was stinking up his bar, but did, eventually, give Emily the directions to Sioux Falls. About an hour later, as she struggled on the side of the road, she heard a voice calling her name behind her. She turned around, not recognizing it. Staring at her from a couple yards away from her was a tall, pale man that she was sure wasn’t there before. He was wearing a knitted vest over a brown shirt and pants. Full on grandpa look, even if he didn’t look older than twenty.

“Can I help you?” she asked, ready to attack him. He couldn’t have come out of anywhere. There was no traffic, no buildings and there hadn’t been in over an hour.  

“No, but maybe I can help you,” he said, with a very strong Italian accent. Emily immediately took a step back. She was just back from hell and a creep was already trying to get to her. She turned back around and hurried her steps.

“Sorry pal, not interested,” she said.

“Are you not curious to know how you got back?” The man appeared in front of Emily, startling her. She bounced into him and stumbled back. He put a hand on her shoulder and helped her keep her balance.

“How-” she looked back.

“I would have thought you would be happier,” he said, tightening his eyes and scratching his head.

“Who the fuck are you?” asked Emily.

“My name is Ramiel.” Right. Like the Evangelion angel. Very funny. She thought.Emily rolled her eyes.

“And I care why?”

“Because I saved you from hell.” Emily raised her eyebrows.

“Sure thing, buddy.” She tried to overcome the man and kept walking. He stretched his arm, stopping her, so she tried to go the other way. Nothing. “Listen, I have a long way to go. What do you want from me?” Emily asked. As Ramiel smiled, she crossed her arms.

“You were destined to be brought back. God has work for you.” said Ramiel. Emily scoffed.

“Right,” she scoffed. “You can tell God he’s an asshole and I’m not helping him out.” The man rolled his eyes.

“I should have guessed you weren’t a believer.” Emily looked at him and raised her eyebrows.

“Not a fan of Jesus, no. So, what are you exactly and why are you folowing me?”

“I am an angel,” he said, and a pair of wings appeared behind him for a moment.  

“Of course you are,” said Emily, sarcastic. “Cool trick, but angels aren’t a thing.” Ramiel didn’t answer. He, instead, stared at her with an expression Emily couldn’t decipher. “Can I go now?” she asked.

“Well,” the man sighed. “It's not my problem if you believe me or not. My orders are just to keep you safe. Vieni-” He reached for her and she didn’t have time to react when she found herself in front of Bobby’s house, alone. She looked around, looking for Ramiel, but didn’t see him anywhere. Well, here goes nothing. Emily said to herself. She walked up to the door and knocked. She waited. Then waited some more. A whole minute passed, and no one came to the door. What was she expecting? It had been years, maybe decades. The chances of Bobby still living there after all that time were slim. As she took a step back towards the street, the door creaked open. She turned.

“Emily?” Emily flinched. before she could completely formulate who the voice belonged to, she had already turned. In the doorway, perfectly clean, healthy, and most importantly alive, was Sam.

“Sam?!” she asked. Before she could ask anything, Sam tried to attack her, and she moved to the side, avoiding Sam's punch and tripping down the porch stairs. “Woah, woah, wait!” she said, struggling to keep standing. “I’m not a monster!” Sam tried to attack her again, but she somehow managed to avoid it again. Emily put her hands in front of her. “I can prove it!” Sam took a step back, breath heavy, and tightened his eyes. Dean appeared next to him alarmed. Emily focused on Sam and used telepathy. A monster wouldn’t be able to do this, right? Sam's eyes widened. He unclenched his fist. Dean stood behind him, and tried to attack her as well, but Sam stopped her.

“It's her, Dean,” he said. Dean looked at Sam. He took a step back and crossed his arms.

“Are you sure? I mean-” he asked.  

“Yeah, yeah, Dean- It's- It's her,” Sam said. Emily looked at Sam, then at Dean and swallowed all of her questions. How was Sam alive? Did Dean- “It's a long story,” said Sam. He smiled. She’d missed having someone smile at her. He took a step forward and hugged her. After decades- or at least what felt like it, Sam's hug felt like being born again. It was a warmth she hadn't experienced in a long time. Emily walked through the door and took off her jacket. She looked at her wrist. All her scars were still there. But also, her wrist was a purple-ish color, swollen. A painful groan left her lips as she touched it. Sam turned. Was her wrist still broken from when Sam had died? That was impossible. And it was just one wrist, to make it weirder.

“What happened to your wrist?” he asked. Emily looked at him and was about to speak, but noticed Dean was touching his shoulder, where he had a similar mark. It was a handprint. Emily looked at Sam and frowned. She heard Bobby's shoes dragging across the house and he appeared in the doorway, too. His eyes widened.

“You kids are gonna give me a heart attack one of these days,” he said.

Bobby handed her a beer. Emily noticed how Dean was avoiding her gaze. He'd barely looked at her. Emily sat across the room from him, arms crossed on her lap.

“So, uh- my time awareness if pretty fucked, so- What did I miss?” she asked. Bobby handed her a newspaper and Emily read the date. “2009?” She raised an eyebrow. “Wait, a year? That’s…” She looked around. Time obviously didn't work the same in hell and on earth. “Unexpected,” she said. She threw the newspaper back on the table and sipped on her beer. “What happened? How- How are you…” She moved her beer towards Sam, who huffed and looked at Dean. When he didn't speak, Sam opened his mouth to talk. Emily interrupted him. She already knew everything she needed.

“You- You went for that deal, didn't you?” Dean didn't answer. Sam looked at her and crossed his arms.

“How do you-”

“Because he tried it. When I was alive. I was the one that stopped him.” Bobby drew a big breath and stood up. He walked behind Emily's chair. Sam raised his eyebrows, confused. “He didn't tell you?” asked Emily.

“No, he…” Sam trailed off. He looked at Dean as he stood up and poured himself a glass of liquor. “Dean?”

“What did he tell you?” asked Emily. Sam sighed.

“He said- He said Jake stabbed you, too. That you died in the hospital.” Emily scoffed and looked at Bobby. He looked at Dean^[e].

“Dean!” Bobby said. “What the hell?!” Dean turned and sighed.

“What was I supposed to say?” he asked, shurgging. Sam stood up.

“Wait, so- so that's not what happened?!” he asked.

“No!” “Fuck no!” said Bobby and Emily in unison. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Then what…” Sam trailed off again, confused. “What happened?!”

“Tell him,” said Bobby. Dean shook his head. “Dean this is your last chance- tell him or I will! And you don't come out looking good in my version!” Emily swallowed and looked at Sam. As the months before her suicide flashed in her mind, he crossed his arms and cleared his voice. Dean looked at Emily for just a moment before pouring himself more alcohol. It was too late. Sam probably knew enough from telepathy alone.

“How much?” asked Emily. Dean closed his eyes, his knuckles whitening around the glass. “How much do you have left?”

“I- I died back in March. I came back yesterday,” he said.

“How?”

“I- I don't know. There's this guy, Castiel- he- he says he's an angel.” Dean emptied his glass and slammed it on the table. Emily flinched. She felt Bobby’s hold on her chair grow stronger for a moment. At that rae, there wouldn’t be a single thing Sam didn’t know. She had to stop thinking about it. Dean closed his eyes and sighed. “He's the one that brought me back.”

“I- I also met a guy. His name is Ramiel,” said Emily. She looked back at Bobby and Sam, who were standing right behind her. Sam looked confused.

“Back up,” he said. “What- How did you die?” he asked. Emily looked at him.

“Sam, I know you saw it,” she said, pointing at her head. Sam looked at Dean.

“Why did you lie?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “She-” Sam put his hands on his waist. “Dean.”

“I was late, okay?” said Dean. “When I got to the Russians she had already run. And when I got the call it had already been a week.” Dean drank from the bottle. “I was late. I couldn't save her.” Emily looked at Bobby, who shook his head.

“Who- Who the fuck’s the Russians?!” asked Sam.

“Dean-” Emily said. But Dean interrupted her.

“Emily. That's it. That's the story.” said Dean. Emily remained silent. Sam looked at her and scratched the back of his neck. “No need to keep talking about this. I lied, I fucked up. That's it.”

“Right,” Emily whispered. She looked at Sam. He knew.

She walked out the living room and upstairs. She closed the door behind her. She looked at the ceiling, expecting tears to start falling. But they didn't. The pressure behind her eyes was growing stronger, but no release was in sight. Her breath grew shorter and her cheeks went numb. Jesus Christ, she thought to herself. I've been back for less than a day- and everything is already going to shit. Her mind started spiraling down and down into a series of horrible memories, she felt a hand on her shoulder and instinctively shoved it away, trapped in a memory loop. Please don't touch me.

“Emily, it's me.” Leave me alone. “Emily! Look at me!” I don't know where my brother is, stop- “Emily!”

“STOP!” she yelled. Sam took a step back, moving his hands away from her. Emily's eyes finally focused on Sam. “Sorry-” She whispered. “Sorry, I- I thought-”

“It's fine,” Sam whispered. “Can I sit?” He pointed to the floor next to her. Emily closed her eyes and nodded. “Emily, I-”

“It's fine. You don't have to say anything,” she said. “I know.”

“What I saw…” Sam sat next to Emily and sighed. “It was all kinds of horrible. It shouldn't have happened to you.” Emily sighed. “About Dean…”

“Sam, that's… Can we not?” she said. Sam nodded. He slowly wrapped Emily's shoulders with his arm. She leaned into the hug and took a deep breath.

Emily turned the page on the giant, dusty lore book she was reading and tapped her fingers on the cup of coffee. The silence she had enveloped herself in was broken by the knocking on her door. She extended one arm out to open it without looking.

“Hey,” Dean's voice made Emily sit straighter in her chair and turn. He looked away and sighed. “I- I forgot to give you this last night.” Emily took the phone Dean was handing her. “They gave it to me after- Well after the funeral. I kept it charged.”

“Oh,” Emily flipped the phone open. There were a couple of missed calls and dozens of texts from Daniel wondering where she was. Emily frowned, her mind going to Daniel for the first time since coming back. For the first time in longer than she liked to admit to herself. He had to have known what happened to her. She was registered at his address. She stared at the text message for a couple seconds, then Dean spoke again.

“For what it's worth, he…” Dean looked around, uncomfortable. “He was cool. I spoke with him at the funeral.” Emily nodded, but she wasn't really listening. She probably ruined Daniel's life. She was the dead girlfriend. The one that ruins your college records. The one that lands you in therapy for life. “Emily?” Emily looked at Dean and shook her head, getting rid of her thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry-” Emily sighed. “Thanks.” Dean nodded and looked outside the room. He'd stood just outside the doorway, not daring to get through the imaginary line that divided the hallway from Emily's room.

“I- I think we need to talk,” he said. Emily adjusted herself in her chair, unable to bring herself to look at Dean.

“That’s an understatement.” Emily closed the book, which rose a cloud of dust. “Why did you lie to Sam?” Dean sighed. He tapped his fingers on his left thigh. One, two, three. Index finger, middle finger, ring finger.

“I- I didn't want him to know the truth.” One, two, three. Index finger, middle finger, ring finger. “You know, I- I'm sorry. For what happened.” Emily closed her eyes.

“You’re only sorry because Sam's back,” Emily said. “If he stayed dead, nothing would have changed.”

“Actually,” Dean sighed. One, two, three. Index finger, middle finger, ring finger. “I- I went to hell. Had, you know… time to think things through.”

“And what did you think?” said Emily, crossing her arms. She couldn’t help but be angry at him.

“That I was wrong. It was never your fault.” One, two, three. Index finger, middle finger, ring finger. Emily didn't answer. She closed her eyes again and flinched, flashes of images from hell resurfacing. “Do you remember?” asked Dean. Emily looked at him and frowned. “Do you remember hell?”

“You mean the one before or after I killed myself?” she asked. Dean looked away. One, two, three. Index finger, middle finger, ring finger. Emily sighed and shook her head. “Not clearly,” she said. Emily looked at Dean's hand. One, two, three. Index finger, middle finger, ring finger.

“Okay.” Dean sighed. One, two, three. “Yeah, it's…” he trailed off. Index finger, middle finger, ring finger. Emily forced herself to look at Dean into his eyes. After reciprocating her gaze for a second, Dean left the room.

Emily woke up to fight noises. She hastily grabbed her gun from under her pillow and jumped out of bed. In front of her, someone she knew. Someone she knew very well and that she wasn’t expecting to see.

“Daniel?” Her ex-boyfriend stared at her, silent. Emily’s eyes focused. He was dead. He was a ghost. Emily lowered her gun. “Are you-”

“Dead? Yes.” said Daniel. A shot was fired through the house. Emily pointed the gun back at Daniel. “I had a good life, you know?” he said, angry. “But you had to come and screw it up with all your shit.”

“What happened to you?” asked Emily. “Did the Russians do this to you?” Daniel nodded.

“Of course they did,” he said, releasing a small cloud of condensation. “Who else? You escaped, their favorite meat toy, they were desperate to get you back. So desperate that I had to be involved.” Daniel took a step towards her, his hands reaching towards Emily's neck. The door slammed open and with a gunshot, Sam made his entrance as the ghost disappeared.

Emily paced around the panic room, the thought that Daniel had been killed because of her setting in. Dean was leaning on a table. After the tenth time Emily walked in front of him, he grabbed her arm to stop her. Emily flinched and shoved away her arm. A flashback of hell took over her thoughts for a split second. Dean looked away.

“You said you saw him at my funeral, right?” Emily asked. Dean didn't answer and rolled his eyes, turning away. “So when did he-”

“Funeral?” asked Bobby. Dean dragged his hand across his face. “Sweetheart, there was no funeral.” Emily turned towards Dean. Her hand flew across his face faster than she could think or stop herself. Silence fell in the room, tension heaving on Emily's shoulders. Dean's right fist clenched, but his left hand’s fingers tapped on his left thigh. One, two, three. Index finger, middle finger, ring finger.

“You knew,” she said in a hiss. Dean nodded. “Jesus Ch- Why do you keep lying?!”

“I couldn't- The Russians had people in the police, okay? I didn't know they were gonna get to him.” One, two, three. Index finger, middle finger, ring finger. Emily scoffed.

“Yes but why, Dean? Why lie to me?!” Emily crossed her arms. Dean didn't answer. “You're unbelievable.”

“Sorry.”

“Stop fucking apologizing if you're just going to follow it up with another lie.” She turned away from Dean and towards Bobby, who had been going through lore books.

“Are you done?” Bobby asked. “Because I think I got something.” Emily stood next to Sam as Dean walked to the other side of the table. “So, the symbol Sam and I saw: the mark of the Witness.” Emily looked at Sam and swallowed.

“Wait, as in-”

“That’s right.” said Bobby. “As in the rising of the witness.” Dean frowned, confused.

“Care to explain?” he asked. Bobby turned the book towards him.

“Basically, these people didn't die ordinary deaths and they were forced to rise. They're rabid. More than any other ghost,” he explained.  

“Okay, but,” said Emily. “That's a spell. Who cast it?” Bobby shook his head. “I mean, we're talking apocalypse here.”

“What?” asked Sam. Emily nodded. “Like- the end of the world?”

“Four horsemen, five dollar gas apocalypse?” asked Dean. Bobby nodded, getting another book out of a pile. Emily crossed her arms.

“That's the one,” answered Bobby. “Someone's trying to jumpstart the freaking Armageddon.”

“Okay, so what do we do now?” asked Sam. Dean tried to speak, but Emily was faster.

“I think there was a spell,” she said. “I read it somewhere. It should put the ghosts back to rest.” She leaned closer to the pile of books Bobby had taken into the panic room and took out one, passing it to Bobby.

“I have to say it, I'm impressed you remember that.” Bobby opened the book on top of the other ones and Emily used her finger to open it around where she'd read the spell.

“I was stuck here with only these books for months back in high school,” she said, flipping through the pages. “I did my fair share of reading.” Emily found the spell and Bobby ran his finger through it.

“This should work,” he said. “I've got everything in the house.”

Once the fight was over, Emily helped clean the place up and flopped back in her bed. When she woke up, she was not in her room anymore, but in the living room, standing next to Dean who seemed as confused as her. Emily looked down at his hand. One, two, three. Index finger, middle finger, ring finger. Dean clenched his fist and shook his hand.

“Excellent job with the witnesses.” Emily looked behind her and saw Ramiel, the alleged angel that said he'd brought her back. Next to him, the man who had just spoken. He also had black hair, and he was wearing a trenchcoat above a white shirt with a blue tie.

“Ciao, Emily,” said Ramiel. “I second what Castiel said: good job, tesoro.” Emily crossed her arms.

“What did you just call me?” said Emily, putting her hands on her waist. “I thought angels were supposed to be guardians, not creeps.”

“We're supposed to be warriors,” answered Castiel, cold. Dean scoffed.

“Then why are you staring at us instead of helping?” asked Emily. “Would be nice if you and big daddy up there helped us out once in a while.”

“As I said already, my job is not to make you believe.” Ramiel took a step forward. “But, if you really need to know, God is busy with something much bigger than your ego.” Emily rolled her eyes.

“Like what?!” asked Dean. “Come on, Al Pacino, humor me.”

“The rise of witnesses was one of 66 seals that, if opened, will bring the apocalypse on earth.” Dean crossed his arms, and Emily followed his left hand with her eyes as it landed on his elbow. One, two, three. Index finger, middle finger, ring finger.

“We knew that,” said Dean. “But who's doing that?”

“Lilith,” answered Castiel. “She's trying to raise Lucifer.”

“Lucifer?” asked Dean, raising his eyebrows. “The devil, Lucifer? With horns and goat feet?”

“Well, not in that form, but yes. That Lucifer.”

Seventeen

From Heathers - The Musical

Emily’s journal

I can’t sleep. I keep waking up in a panic, screaming and crying. I don’t have a clue of what I’m actually dreaming, it all goes away in a few seconds.

I haven’t closed eyes since I turned topside two weeks ago.

I know Dean is also awake, I can hear him, but I really don’t want to talk to him. Or see him, for the matter.

Not after what he’s done before I died.

-

I met Castiel again, he said that Sam is taking a “dangerous” turn with his powers, whatever that means. Dean told me to mind my own business and not to talk to Sam about this, but I am starting to think maybe I should.

-

I had another nightmare.

I’ll just walk it off.

Emily walked down the motel stairs. Maybe a walk could have calmed her down. She couldn’t sleep. The nightmares were keeping her awake, doing everything in their power to ruin her night. She could hear Dean toss and turn in the bed next to hers, but there was nothing she wanted to do less than interact with him. She couldn’t stop thinking of what Castiel had said: that Sam was taking a dangerous turn with his powers. Dean had been adamant not to tell him, that it was all a way to get him and Emily to work for them, that it wasn’t real. But that wasn’t the first time someone had questioned their powers’ nature. Staring at the ceiling was boring and the constant sound of the ceiling fan was deafening. She sat up on the bed and looked to her left. Sam wasn’t there. He was probably gone to get some drinks or just on a walk. Weird, in the middle of the night, but at that point everything could have been. Emily wore her jacket and opened the door, just to walk into Sam.

“Sorry,” she said, walking around him. “Here you are, where-” Sam turned and swallowed. His thoughts were racing so fast Emily couldn't really pick out what he was thinking. But one thing she was sure: she'd caught him doing something he didn't want her to know about. “What are you doing?”

“I- I was just taking a walk,” he said, looking behind him. Emily followed Sam's eyes and noticed a car running idle just outside the lot. Someone was at the wheel.

“Do you already have company?” asked Emily, pointing at the car. Sam shook his head.

“No, I-” He reached in his pocket and took out his phone. He looked at it for a few seconds, then grabbed Emily's arm. He dragged her towards the car.

“Sam, what the hell is going on?!” asked Emily. He gestured at her to stay quiet. Sam pushed Emily in the back of the car and sat in the passenger’s seat. “Sam!” The driver was a woman Emily didn’t recall seeing before. She started driving with a sigh. “Care to introduce me to your new girlfriend?” asked Emily. Sam turned and huffed.

“She’s not-” Sam groaned. “Emily, it’s Ruby.” Emily blinked twice and opened her mouth to speak. “Spare me,” he said. Emily scoffed. “I’m serious. I’ll show you, but-” Sam looked at Ruby and smiled. “We’re saving people.”

“What-” She closed her eyes. “Why exactly did I have to be here for it?” Sam looked at Ruby again.

“I think you can help,” she said. “Word is, your powers are strong.”

“Yeah, and word is you’re a demon,” said Emily, scowling at Sam. He rolled his eyes. Ruby chuckled. “Something funny?”

“Yeah, you call me that all you want, but I can smell the demon blood from here.” She smirked as she parked her car in front of an abandoned warehouse. As she and Sam left the car, Emily grabbed her phone and texted Dean. “GPS on, Ruby is here.”  Fuck whatever that was. Maybe Castiel was right. She put her phone back in her pocket and prayed to every single entity she knew he would read it. Inside the warehouse were two men tied to chairs. Emily looked at Sam.

“I'm sorry, what is going on again?” Sam looked at Ruby and she gave him a look. The look meant something, but Emily wasn't sure what. Sam dragged Emily outside the warehouse.

“Okay, so,” he said. “you know how when people get possessed, they die because they get stabbed, shot and such?”

“So, those are demons?” Emily nodded towards the chairs.

“They’re not- they’re possessed, the people are still inside,” Emily frowned. Okay, good point, but he still hadn’t told her what was going on.

“And you can do what with your powers?” Sam gestured at her to follow him and walked back inside the warehouse.

“Ready?” he said with a smile. “I’m sure you’re going to love this.” Emily frowned, but he nodded and turned towards the demons. Emily quickly checked her phone: Dean had answered her with a single “k”. Emily looked behind her, hoping to see the Impala rolling in. She crossed her arms and looked at Sam, who seemed to focus on something. He closed his eyes and raised his hand towards the demons in the chair. The demon on the right started retching, like he was about to vomit. But all that came out of him was black smoke. Emily frowned. Sam turned towards her, smiling. She realized she'd probably never seen him smile that big before. Ever. “So?” he asked.

“Sam, what- what just happened?” Sam pointed towards the man on the chair, who was starting to wake up. “Is that-”

“I can save them all, Emily!” he said. “I- This changes everything!” He was really happy about that. Emily could tell, he thought he’d found a way to change their entire job. But she wasn’t so sure it was a good thing.

“Sam, you…” Emily looked at Ruby. The demon rolled her eyes and raised her hands, walking away towards the man Sam had just saved.

“You don't have to worry about her,” said Sam.

“Are you sure? Because she's a demon, and from what I was taught, we don't work with demons. We kill them!” she said. Sam huffed.

“Don't you get it? She's helping me! She's helping us!” said Sam. “If I practice enough, I can kill Lilith!” Emily scoffed.

“Did she tell you that?” she asked. Sam shook his head.

“I was really hoping you'd be on board,” he said. “You know, you- your powers, they're strong. You'd be good at this.” Emily looked behind her. She saw a pair of tail lights approaching.

“Sam, Castiel and Ramiel warned us about these powers. A demon gave us these powers! Do- Do I need to spell it out for you?!” Sam looked at her and put his hands on his waist. “Dude! She’s using you!”

“She’s not,” Sam sighed. “If you just-”

“Why? Because she tells you you’re a good boy every time you save someone?” asked Emily. Sam scoffed.

“Why can’t you focus on the fact I’m saving people?” He asked. Ruby came out of the warehouse. Emily turned. The taillights had disappeared.

“Sam,” called the demon. “I think someone’s here. We should bail.”

Emily was on edge until she opened the motel door. She knew Dean had seen them. And she knew they were due for a fight as soon as they were all back at the motel. Sam opened the door and Dean was waiting for them sitting on the bed, his bag already packed next to him. How did he get there before them? Sam ignored him and walked inside. Emily frowned. He didn’t seem much surprised to see Dean awake.

Dude. Telepathy. said Sam’s voice in her head. She frowned. You’ve been overthinking about this for the past fifteen minutes.

Mind your business!

I wish I could, but you-

“Alright,” said Dean. “Stop whatever psycho shit you’ve got going on and speak!” Emily sighed and leaned on the window next to the door. “Give one reason to not grab my shit and leave right now!”

“Look-” Was all Sam could say before Dean punched him. Emily pushed away from the window and put herself in front of Dean, as much as her entire body was begging her not to and to run the opposite direction.

“Stop!” she said, Dean pushed her away and she hit the wall behind her. She flinched and brought her arms up to protect herself, despite Dean not even looking at her. He punched Sam again. “Stop!” she repeated. She meant to sound strong, but her voice broke. Dean’s knuckles whitened even more and he closed his eyes. He lowered his hand.

“Satisfied?” asked Sam. Dean looked at Emily and sighed.

“Do you even know how far off the reservation you've gone? How far from normal? From human?” Dean asked. Emily dragged a hand through her hair and sighed. Sam looked at Emily and put his hands on his waist. He wasn’t gonna let Dean do anything to her. As long as Sam was there, she was safe.

“I'm just exorcizing demons,” he said.

“With your mind!” Dean yelled. Emily pushed her nails in the palm of her hand and closed her eyes. She felt Dean’s grasp on her arm and he dragged her in the middle of the room. The red lights from hell flashed in front of her eyes. “You better start talking,” said Dean. Emily pushed her nails further into the palm of her hand and stared at the floor, knowing if she lost control her powers would have acted up again. Sam looked at her.

“Dean, she’s not-” he said.

“What else can you do?!” asked Dean, ignoring Sam’s words. Sam sighed and touched Emily’s shoulder. She tried to move away but Dean dragged her back next to Sam. The moment he touched her arms, the light in the room flickered. “Dean-”

 “What else can you do?” repeated Dean. Sam crossed his arms and cleared his voice.

“I can send them back to hell,” he said. “It only works with demons, and that's it.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“What about you?” he asked. Emily didn’t answer. She couldn’t bring herself to look anywhere else but the floor in front of her, but she could see Dean’s fingers tapping on his thigh.

One, two, three.

Index finger, middle finger, ring finger.

One, two- Dean’s hands disappeared from Emily’s view and she felt them on her overalls. Dean pushed her to the wall, where she landed with a sob. One of the lightbulbs exploded. Sam flinched.

“Dean-” said Sam, dragging Dean away from Emily. “Dean, she doesn’t know anything!” Dean’s grasp on her overalls lightened. He flicked his tongue and punched Sam again. “What the hell is wrong with you?” asked Sam, keeping Dean at a distance. “She’s the one that ratted me out, why would she-”

“Answer the question,” said Dean. Sam rolled his eyes.

“I told you- that’s it!”

“I don’t believe you.” Dean turned away from both Sam and Emily. “I don’t believe either of you.”

“I’m sorry, I should have said something,” said Sam. “But look at the other side.”

“The other side?” Dean scoffed.

“I’m pulling demons out of innocent people!” Sam said. He looked at the exploded lightbulb and then at Emily. He swallowed.

“Use the knife!” said Dean. Sam didn’t answer. He gave one last look to Emily. “Sam!”

“The knife kills the victim, okay? I can save them, Dean!” Sam explained. “I saved more people in the last five months than we save in a year, this is-”

“I swear to God, if the word ‘good’ leaves you mouth-”

“Why? There’s no way around these powers, Dean! We’ve had them for years now and they’ve never been a problem!”

“Never been a problem?!” asked Dean. “I never liked them! And this is not telepathy we’re talking about! That’s a fucking party trick compared to what you’re doing!” Sam crossed his arms.

“I get it, they come from a demon and it’s- it’s bad, but- but what? I can use them for good, Dean!” Dean looked away, his fists clenching.

“Is that what Ruby tells you? That you’re doing good, so it’s all fine?” he asked. Sam nodded. “I’ve been open minded about the visions, about the telepathy- hell, I even accepted Emily’s weird telekinesis thing, but this-”

“How’s this different?!” asked Sam. “I’m saving people!”

“It’s different because it’s bordering on not being human anymore!” As Dean's words left his mouth, the only sound in the room was Emily’s soft sobs. She held her breath. Please don’t hear me cry, please- Sam turned towards her. She scratched the back of her neck. “No, stop- stop it with the psycho shit!” said Dean. “No more telepathy, no more mind-reading, enough! I’ve been open-minded but clearly, I was wrong!”

“Dean-”

“No, that’s final, okay? Don’t you see it? The more you use these powers the stronger they get! Emily keeps exploding shit, now this? Don’t these powers remind you of something?!” Emily looked at Sam and dried her face. He lifted one corner of his lips. Dean paced away from Sam and then turned.

“Just know,” he said. “If I didn’t know you- I’d want to hunt you.” Dean turned towards Emily. “Both of you.”

Sam sat next to her on the hood of the Impala. She looked at him but didn’t say anything. She took a puff out of her cigarette and stared in front of her.

“You okay?” he asked.  

“No,” Emily said. “Did Dean calm down?”

“Kinda, we- we got a case. He’s getting ready to leave.” Sam sighed and crossed his arms. “Sorry I dragged you into this.”

“It’s fine. You’re not the problem,” Emily said in a whisper, glaring in the direction of their room. Sam’s thoughts seeped into Emily’s thoughts in a confused mess. Questions. So many questions. “Why do we even stay with him? Why don't we… leave?”

“Emily,” said Sam. “Dean doesn't- he's not a bad person. He's just… he doesn't get it, you know? But I'll get through to him.”

“Will you?” Emily asked. Sam didn't answer. “Yeah, didn't think so.”

“Look-” Sam tried to say.

“No! Why do you always try to defend him?!” Emily complained. Sam crossed his arms.

“I'm not-”

“Yes you are!” yelled Emily. “He just punched the shit out of you, he shoved me like nobody’s business, yelled at us and for what?! I didn't even do anything!” She looked at Sam. He had no idea. He didn't know what happened after he died. Maybe she’d kept it hidden in her mind good enough.

“Tell me,” said Sam, once again taking advantage of telepathy. “Tell me what happened.”

“Sam, no,” said Emily. As soon as Sam opened his mouth to talk, she cut him off. “Because I don't want to talk about it! I don't even want to think about it!” The motel door opened and Dean walked out. Sam looked at him, then at Emily, and remained silent until Dean was next to him.

“Tell me,” said Sam. Dean stiffened up. “I want to know. I need to know.”

“No you don't,” said Dean. He looked at Emily, then looked away.

“Why not?” asked Sam. “How much of an asshole do you come off as?” Dean looked at Emily and sighed. “Of course,”

“Sam-” said Dean. Emily clenched her fists. Maybe Sam should have known. He probably would have agreed to leaving if he knew.

“Tell him,” said Emily. Dean's eyes widened. “You should have told him the first time, just-”

“I'm not going to tell him anything, damn it,” Dean said, walking past them.  

“Why?!” asked Sam.

“Because it's none of your business!”said Dean. Emily rolled her eyes. “What?! Can you blame me?!”

“Of course I can! If you didn't want to look like an asshole- maybe you shouldn't have acted like one!” she yelled.

“I didn't-”

“Oh yes you did!” said Emily. “You used me as a fucking punchball, just because your favourite brother was fucking dead!” Dean looked at her, his eyes widening in panic. Sam sighed and put his hands on his waist. “You told me I wasn't your sister, that I had no idea what you were going through!”

“Emily-”

“No, you don't get to try and stop me, okay?! You're the reason Bobby had me leave-

“You-”

“You're the reason I worked at the Sky Lounge,”

“I never-”

“You're the fucking reason I killed myself!” Dean looked at her. His eyes turned to the floor. He took a step back. Emily felt regret hitting her a second after those words left her mouth. Maybe it wasn’t true. Sure, he’d made it so the Russians took her, but he didn’t do it on purpose. The Russians were the reason she killed herself. She looked at Sam. He was looking away. Dean took another step back. “Dean-” He raised a hand in front of him and turned around, marching back towards the motel. Emily looked at Sam. He didn't say anything, so she turned too, and left the motel parking lot. Sam didn't follow her.

When she came back, it was because Sam had picked her up in town and basically dragged her into the car.

“Dean was a mess all night,” he said. “I think he's okay now, tho.” Emily took place in the car and put on her seatbelt.

“I didn't care either way.”

“Emily, I spoke with him,” he said. “You- You shouldn't have said what you said,” he said. Emily scoffed. “I mean, he's wrong, he's wrong all the way, but Bobby told you to go to the Roadhouse. It was supposed to be temporary. You turned it into a permanent thing.”

“Wow,” said Emily. “So, he hits me for months and I'm the problem because I wasn't nice enough?”

“I said-”

“Yeah, I heard what you said,” said Emily. “What did he tell you?” she asked. Sam looked away. “That I didn’t even try, right? That I was a bitch, or something like that.”

“He-”

“I tried, Sam. Even when Bobby told me not to, I still went into that fucking room and tried to help him. Every single night.”

“He didn’t-”

“He was an asshole,” said Emily. “And I’m not going to excuse him just because he feels guilty.”

“I know,” said Sam. “But he’s not okay.”

“Well, neither am I,” Emily answered. “but neither of you seem to give a shit about it.” Sam parked in front of the motel and Dean walked out. Emily rolled her eyes.

“I’ll give you guys some space,” said Sam, opening the door.

“What- no! Sam, you-” but Sam was already out the car, and Dean took his place. “What do you want?” Dean didn’t answer. Emily crossed her arms and avoided Dean’s gaze. She stared in front of her.

“Why did you tell him that?” asked Dean a few minutes later.

“Because that’s what really happened,” she answered. “And why did you lie?”

“You told him it was all my fault, but you know-” Dean said, his voice overlapping with hers

“You lied and told me I died on a random hunt. when-”

“-that there were two of us, so-”

“-actually I killed myself because you couldn’t-”

“-you have as much blame as I do-”

“-face that Sam was dead- What the fuck did you just say?!” she said. Dean didn’t answer. “Do you really think I did you wrong?! I-”

“That’s not what I-” Dean tried to defend himself.

“That’s exactly what you said, for Christ’s sake! You-” Emily looked away. “I cared for you while you were too busy getting drunk and trying to kill me!”

“I didn’t need you to play mom with me!” said Dean. “I can take care of myself, okay? I-”

“Can you? Because I had to fucking stop you from getting alcohol poisoning every fucking night, and I always had to pay the consequences of it!”

“That’s exactly what I mean! You didn’t need to do that!”

“What the fuck was I supposed to do then?!” yelled Emily. “What the heck did I not do that you needed so much!”

“I didn’t need a babysitter, I needed a sister, damn it!” Emily looked at him and could feel a hint of disgust in her features, but didn’t care to hide it.

“Well, I’m not your sister,” said Emily. “You made it very clear.” Dean didn’t answer. He looked at her, swallowed, and left the car.  

Anybody have a map?

From Dear Evan Hansen

“It just doesn’t make sense, Dean. I mean, why would Uriel tell me you remembered hell if you didn't?” Were the words Emily heard when she arrived back in the motel with dinner. She closed the door and looked at Sam, then at Dean, and she was about to speak, but Dean interrupted her.

“Maybe because he’s a dick,” he said. Emily emptied the bag on the table and rolled her eyes. Dean looked at her and cleared his voice. Sam sat straighter in his chair.

“What?” He asked. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” “Nothing.” said Dean and Emily. Of course, Emily knew that Dean remembered about hell, not because Uriel said it, but because she remembered herself. It wasn't clear memories, but they were there. And they were painful.

“Emily, what- What do you know?” asked Sam, following Emily through the room and to her bed, where she kicked off her shoes and slid out of her overalls. She rolled his eyes and ignored him. “Emily!” Emily turned.

Can we not? I really don’t want to fight with him again.

Oh, come on- What is it?

Emily threw her t-shirt to Sam and walked around the bed in her underwear looking for her backpack. Sam took the t-shirt and sniffed it.

“You need to shower more,” he said. Emily put her hands on her waist. “I’m just saying.” Emily ignored him and took a clean t-shirt out of her backpack. Behind Sam, Dean grinned and took a bite out of his hamburger. Sam threw the dirty t-shirt on Emily’s bed. “Do you remember?” he asked. Emily looked at Dean. She took a deep breath and nodded. “So- So why wouldn’t you?” Dean rolled his eyes and stood up. He walked to the mini-fridge and took out a beer. “Oh my God, you do! Shit, Dean, what is it with all the lies?!”

“Right,” he said, looking back at Sam and Emily. “Because you two are an open book.”

“What have I done now?” asked Emily. Dean took a swing of his beer.

“You didn’t tell the truth either,” he said. Emily frowned. “Or we wouldn’t be here just talking about it.” Sam looked at Emily. She looked at Dean and walked back around the bed.

“What the hell does that mean?” she asked. “I’m not hiding anything!”

“Right.” said Dean. “Of course you’re not, you’re a saint.” Emily took a step towards Dean, but Sam held her back.

“Can you not? Please?” he asked. He gave Dean one of their looks. Emily rolled her eyes and shoved her arm back. “I got us a case.”  

“What?” asked Emily, grabbing a hamburger from the table. Dean walked away and started packing.

“Uh…” Sam sighed and took his laptop back. “Up in Concrete, Washington, eyewitness reports of a ghost that's been haunting the showers of a women's health facility.” Dean stumbled and choked on his beer. Emily rolled her eyes and grabbed her backpack.

“Can you two work together?” asked Sam. “I really don’t want to spend the next week trying to keep you from shooting each other.”

“Of course,” said Dean. “I’m an adult.” He looked at Emily. Sam turned too, waiting for her answer.

“Sure,” she said. “Whatever.”

In Washington, Sam went to do research and forced Emily and Dean to drive to the fitness center. He had insisted they split that way so they ‘had a chance to talk’. Or at least, that’s what he had said to Dean while he thought she couldn’t hear.

“So you- uh- you like girls, right?” said Dean as they were slowly walking down the hallway, trying to pick on any EMF. Emily didn’t look at him, pretending to be focused on the EMF meter in front of her. “I remember you saying you slept with one.”

“I- I didn’t, I- I was lying about my age.” said Emily. “Remember? I’m a fucking liar.” Dean cleared his voice and returned to look at his EMF meter.

“Do you want to take the showers?” he asked. “I'll take the changing room.” Emily didn’t answer, but walked past Dean and walked to the showers.

“You got anything?” Dean asked as she walked out of the building putting her backpack on. Emily shook her head. “Me neither. I’m kinda disappointed.”

“Why?” asked Emily, taking out her phone to text Sam.  

“I’m gonna be real- I was really hoping to see some naked women.” Emily looked up at Dean as he grinned. She rolled her eyes. Was he trying to be friendly? Really? “Alright-” Dean sighed. “Sam’s waiting for us, so…” He pointed in the direction of the Impala, parked a few feet away. Emily preceded him to the car and waited for him to unlock the doors. After lunch, she walked out of the diner right after Sam.

“I don’t really think anything’s going on here,” he said. “So, unless you have something you’d like to do, I’d hit the road after-” Sam stopped talking, distracted by something happening across the street.

“How the hell was I supposed to get a look at it?” said a man to a police officer. “It grabbed me from behind and threw me into a tree!” Dean looked at Sam and crossed the street, on the pier.

“Yeah, okay, Gus. I understand you got shook up,” said the officer. “Anyone would be. But don't you think it – Don't you think it had to be a bear?”

“I know a damn bear track when I see one! This thing didn't leave bear tracks! Its feet were huge!” the man yelled. The police officer sighed and crossed his arms. “It was Bigfoot, Hal, the Bigfoot!” Emily raised her eyebrows.

“Woah,” she said. “Are we still sure nothing’s going on here?” Sam huffed.

“Bigfoot is not real,” he said. Dean nodded.

“I know, but… A woman falls down the stairs and a ghost helps her up? A bigfoot sighting?” She looked at Sam.

“She’s right Sam,” said Dean. “I mean, this town is either full of crazy or we stepped into something weird.” Sam shrugged and reached the men arguing on the pier.

“Excuse us, FBI,” he said, showing his fake badge. Dean and Emily did the same.

“What?” asked the police officer, turning towards them.

“Yes sir,” answered Dean. “We’re here about the…” He trailed off, looking around. “That.” He pointed to the man.

“About bigfoot?” The police officer raised his eyebrows. “Really?” Emily took a notepad out of her pocket.

“That’s right.” said Sam. “Sir, can you tell my colleague exactly what happened?” He pointed to Emily.

“Yes- Yes of course.” said the man.

Emily was walking back to the motel a few steps in front of Sam and Dean, her feet digging into the dirt as she anticipated the much needed sleep that was ahead of her. The voices of her brothers right behind her, theorizing on the case, stopped. Emily stopped.

“Emily, come see this,” said Sam. Emily put her hands in her pockets and walked back to where they were standing. Sam pointed to a few giant footsteps in the dirt.

“You guys are positive that bigfoot’s a hoax, right?” she asked. Sam and Dean looked at each other.

“Let’s see where they lead,” said Sam. The footprints led to another dirt road which ended at a liquor store. As they walked closer, they realized it had been broken into. Emily put her hand on her gun and followed Sam and Dean inside.

“What the hell?” asked Emily, looking around. She kneeled next to some broken bottles. “Amaretto and Irish Cream?” She frowned. “Is it just me or are those not what you would expect  Bigfoot to drink?” Dean huffed. He looked around and took a bottle off the shelf.

“Dude,” said Sam. Emily turned. “He took the whole porno rack.”

“What the hell is going on in this town?” asked Emily. Sam looked around and seemed to think. Dean crossed his arms.

“I got nothing,” he said. “Like… LSD in the town water?”

“I don’t think that’s the case,” said Emily. Sam turned and frowned. “Dean’s only drank beer, so…” Dean rolled his eyes. A kid passed by on her bike and an issue of Busty Asian Beauties fell out of her basket. Dean picked it up and turned it towards Sam and Emily.

“Is that what I think it is?” asked Sam. Dean nodded. The kid on the bike disappeared behind a corner. “Should we check it out?” Dean nodded and walked towards where the kid had disappeared.

Dean knocked on the kid’s door. She opened it.

“Hello?” she said with a smile. Sam smiled and looked at Dean. He turned to Emily. He nodded towards the kid. Emily frowned, confused. He nodded again. Emily scoffed.

“Hey there,” she said. “Are your parents home?”

“Nope,” said the kid. Emily looked at Sam. He smiled and nodded towards the kid, too.

“Okay, uh-” Emily sighed. “We’re looking for a… uhm, very furry, uh-”

“Is he in trouble?” asked the kid, alarmed. Dean looked back at Emily and grinned.

“Oh, no,” she said. “But we… we just want to make sure he’s okay.”

“He’s my teddy bear,” said the kid. “I think he’s sick.”

“Amazing,” said Dean. “‘Cause you know what? My friend here…” He pointed at Emily. “She’s a teddy bear doctor.” Emily forced a smile out of herself.  

“Really?!” asked the kid. “Can you take a look at him?”

“So, we got a drunk, depressed teddy bear,” said Emily, walking off the kid’s porch. “I’d say we should hit the lore, but, you know… there isn’t much to look for.”

“While you were in there with the bear, we… we talked to Audrey,” said Sam. “She said she wished for her teddy to come true at the wishing well.”

“You mean… we got a fully working wishing well on our hands?” Emily frowned. Sam shrugged. “I mean… it’s not as absurd as bigfoot being real.” Dean opened the Impala and Emily climbed in the back seat. “Anybody up for some chinese while we’re checking out the wishing well?” she asked. Dean grinned through the rearview mirror.

“Actually, I’d really love a subway sandwich,” he said.

Dean looked back and forth between his Italian footlong and the wishing well where he’d just thrown a coin. Emily and Sam exchanged a look and frowned.

“Dude,” said Emily. “That’s crazy, I want to try-”

“Wait,” Sam stopped her from taking a coin out of her pocket. “When has something like this ever come without a price tag?” He said. Emily rolled her eyes. “Let’s hold off on the wishing until we figure out what’s going on, okay?”

Emily went to sleep and dreamt of herself in a flower field. She looked around, taking the faint scent in, and saw Ramiel staring at her from a distance. She rolled her eyes.

“Of course,” she sighed. “This seemed too peaceful of a dream to come from my brain.” She put her hands on her waist. “What is this, Ramiel?”

“Scusa,” he said. “I just have a message to you and your brothers and this is the easiest way.” Ramiel fixed the top button of his vest and walked towards Emily.

“And was this necessary?” She pointed at the flower field. Ramiel smiled and fixed a strand of her hair. “Dude- keep your hands to yourself, okay?” Ramiel nodded, apologetically taking a step back.  

“I’m trying to protect you. Your regular dreams are gory and violent. I thought this would be more appropriate.” Emily run a hand through her hair. The strand Ramiel had fixed fell back down. “After I’m gone, you can stay as long as you want.”  

“Oh,” she said, looking around. “Okay, I- Thanks.”

“My job is to keep you safe,” said Ramiel. “I will do anything in my power, amore.”

“Again? Why do you keep calling me these things?” Ramiel smiled, the slightest hint of red flushing his cheeks.

“It’s Italian,” said Ramiel. “It’s the same as calling someone honey.”

“Oh,” Emily looked at Ramiel and crossed her arms. Ramiel fixed his shirt again and cleared his voice. “You said you had a message for me?” asked Emily.

“Yes,” said Ramiel. “More and more seals are being opened. Lilith is closer to bringing Lucifer back everyday.”

“Okay, but…” said Emily. “What am I supposed to do about it?”

“You need to stop it.” Ramiel didn’t bother explaining much more, and he disappeared, leaving her alone in the flower field. This is kinda nice. She thought as she sat on the ground. Nice of him to do this. When she woke up the sun was already up in the sky. Sam was doing research on the other half of the bed. She heard the toilet flush and someone vomit. She sat up. She saw Dean’s reflection in the bathroom mirror, kneeled over the toilet.

“What’s going on with him?” Emily asked. Sam sighed.

“The wishes go bad,” He turned his laptop towards her. “Coin was Babylonian.” He pointed to a picture of the coin. “That, in the middle? Babylonian god of primordial chaos.” Emily nodded.

        “So, it’s not wishes, it’s… chaos,” she said. Dean vomited again. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t wish for anything.”

        “So, we- we have to find the first wisher,” said Sam. “They’re the only person who can take the coin out of the well.”

        “Any leads?” asked Emily. Sam nodded.

        “Remember the guy from the chinese restaurant? The one that was all lovey-dovey with a girl way out of his league?” asked Dean, coming out of the bathroom with a towel over his mouth. Emily nodded. “They’re Wesley and Hope, soon to be wed-” Dean’s chest bent forward, as he tried not to vomit again. “We found an engagement announcement on the paper.”

        Emily sat next to Sam in the Impala as he started the engine. She kicked off her shoes.

        “Dude, it’s just a ten minute drive,” said Sam. Emily shrugged and Sam shook his head.

“How do you want to play this?” she asked. Sam sighed.

“Actually,” said Sam. “I was wondering if you wanted to take the lead on this one.” Emily frowned.

“You want me… to do what exactly?” She asked.

“Look, when Dean’s there we can try and sell the bring-your-daughter-to-work day thing, but you and I… it’s not believable.”

“Alright… So I’m the boss?”

“You’re the boss,” said Sam with a smile.

“Wes, you didn’t tell me that you called the florists for the wedding!” said Hope, letting Sam and Emily into the house. “You’re the best!” With a squeal, the girl kissed Wesley on the head and left.

“Yeah, Wes- you’re the best.” said Emily with a smirk. The man frowned. A visible bulge was forming in his pants. Emily grabbed a pillow from the nearby couch and threw it at him. Wesley took the pillow and looked down at himself and blushed. “I’m gonna be straight, Wesley, we know about the coin.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” said Wesley. “I- I-” Hope entered the room again holding a stack of magazines and folders.

“Okay, now- I have a lot of ideas,” she said. “but, you know, we don't have all the money in the world.” Hope chuckled and looked at Wes. “Wes is between jobs right now. Means more time for me.” Sam smiled and quickly glared at Emily. “You know, I'm thinking a Japanese-y ikebana kind of thing.” His mouth opened for a moment, then it closed.

You don’t know what a ikebana is, don’t you?

Oh, so it’s not a made up word? Emily looked at Sam and smirked.

“I can definitely see it!” She smiled at Hope, her voice rising higher than usual. “But oh my God- tell us how you met!”

What are you doing with your voice? said Sam’s voice in the back of Emily’s head.

Talking the language of Hope, what does it look like?

“Oh, best day of my life!” said Hope. Emily nodded. “It's the funniest thing. We both grew up here, but I never really knew who he was,” she said.

“Wow!” said Emily. “Straight out of a rom-com!” Hope giggled.

This is freaking me out. Emily elbowed Sam in the ribs in an attempt to make him shut up, even if it was all just in their heads.

“I know, right? Anyway, last month I was out shopping and it was…” She sighed, looking over at Wesley. “It was like I saw him for the first time.”

“It must have felt so magical,” said Emily. “You two look like a perfect match!” Hope smiled and latched onto Wesley’s arm. “And you both got such a great taste in clothes!”

Okay, not you’re just quoting Legally Blonde.

“Uh, babe,” said Wesley. “can you- can you get us some coffee?” Hope smiled, nodded and left humming some song Emily couldn’t really pinpoint on the spot.

“Mazel tov, Wes- you got yourself a robot girlfriend.” said Emily, going back to her normal voice. Sam looked at her and frowned. “It must be exhausting.”

“What? N- No, it’s… it’s great!” As he said that, Hope rushed back in the living room and kissed him. The kiss started getting more and more heated, Wes tried to have Hope take a step back, but couldn’t. Emily crossed her arms and cleared her voice. Once. Twice. On the third time, Hope stopped kissing Wesley and looked at her.

“Sorry, you- you know how it is!” she squealed. “Just can’t keep my hands off him!”

“Oh, don’t worry, girl- I get it.” Emily smiled. Sam licked his lips, trying to hide he was laughing at her “girl voice”. Hope giggled and walked back to the kitchen, sending kisses to Wesley. He sent some back, awkwardly fixing the pillow over his lap. Emily shook her head. “What did you do, Wes?”

“Okay, I- I- My grandfather found the coin in north Africa,” he said. “You know, World War II.” Wesley stood up and took a frame off the wall. “And, uh, he brought it back. He, um, he said it was a real wish-granting coin, but that nobody should ever use it.”

“Okay, so… why did you use it?” asked Emily.  

“I mean, he- he died and I thought, you know what? Why not give the coin a shot?” answered Wesley.

“Here’s the deal. When someone finds an old magic object and tells you not to use it… you usually listen. Because if you don’t, something bad usually happens.”

“What- what do you want me to do?” Wes asked.

“Wish it back,” said Sam.

“Woah, no- no- Not gonna happen.” Wesley looked towards the kitchen, where the humming of Hope could still be heard. Emily scoffed.

“Wes, you either wish it back, or something terrible will happen to you. And her.” said Emily. Wesley hesitated.

“Just so we’re clear,” said Sam. “We’re the bad thing that happens to you.” Wesley frowned and looked down at Sam’s hands. Emily saw his gun shine in the corner of her eyes.

“I don’t get it,” said Wes, taking place in the back of the Impala. “My wish came true, why does it have to be a bad thing?”

“You’re trying to tell me coked up Elle Woods back there is what you wished for?” Wesley frowned.

“What’s- Elle- what?” Emily rolled her eyes.

“That’s not how love looks, Wes!” said Sam. “The wishes go south, yours included.”

“I mean, I- I wished that she would love me more than anything…” said Wesley. “So…”

“Dude, that is the stupidest wish I heard today,” said Emily. “And my brother wished for a sandwich.”

“Hey, it’s a hell of a lot better than when she didn't know I was alive,” said Wesley.

“Dude, with all the girls out there- desperate for anything that moves, you really had to wish for Hope?” said Emily. “Ever heard of the whole ‘the sea’s full of fish’ thing?”

“Easy for you two to say,” scoffed Wesley. “You are like… poster models! Teenagers could have you hanging off their walls and in their secret diaries surrounded by hearts!” he said. Emily looked at Sam and shook her head. “I’m sure you had it so easy, just because you happen to be handsome!”

“Easy? Please,” said Emily. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t? Have you tried having to wait until you’re thirty two to lose your virginity?” Emily frowned and turned towards Wesley. “No, right?”

“Of course not, I’m-”

“Not a virgin, I bet!”

“Okay, first of all-”

“Hey, hey, stop it-” said Sam. “Look.” He pointed in front of him. As Emily turned back, she saw a kid lift and roll over a car with two other kids in it.

“You still sure Hope is worth it?” asked Emily.

“Jesus, Dean- that was some save.” said Emily, standing back up. He walked towards her and helped her. “Can’t believe I just got beat up by a kid.”

“Where’s Sam?” asked Dean.

“Lucky Chin’s, with Wesley,” she answered. “Made it just in time-” She cracked her back. Dean crossed his arms and looked away.

“You okay?” he asked. Emily nodded. “So you…” Dean cleared his voice. “You remember hell?”

“Dean, we talked about this,” she sighed. “I do, but- not- not everything, it’s… it’s confusing.” Dean nodded. “Why?” She asked. Dean didn’t answer. Not that Emily expected him to, she had come to learn he wasn’t one to talk. About anything. Ever. It was just weird he kept bringing it up. “Is there…” She hesitated. “What’s going on?” Dean cleared his voice and shook his head.

“Nothing,” he said. “I- I was just wondering.” He turned and started walking towards Lucky Chin’s without waiting for her answer.

Lifeboat

From Heathers - The Musical

Everything was a blur. Emily sat in the Impala and tried to put together images of what had just happened. There was a girl. Anna? Yes, Anna. Ruby had said something about the demons wanting her. Dean didn’t want to take the lead. There was a fight, Emily could remember Dean’s face as he accused her of being on Ruby’s side, again. Emily didn’t remember if she really was. She wasn’t. Right? Ruby was one of the bad guys. Or at least, that was what Emily could remember. The more the day flashed in front of her, the more everything else became a blur. She remembered a church. The drawing, no- a picture of a church. Both.

Emily dragged a hand across her hair and sat on the bed. She didn’t remember walking out of the car. Maybe she was bleeding. The church. The church was important. Dean Winchester was saved. Dean Winchester was saved.

“Emily?” Sam’s voice passed by Emily without her noticing. The church. She couldn’t stop thinking of the church.

“Emily!” She looked up at Dean. Dean Winchester was saved. Not in the church. The church. Dean’s fingers tapped on his thigh. One, two, three. Index finger, middle finger, ring finger. “I kinda need your expertise here, man.” said Dean. He pointed to his shoulder. Emily looked at him. She could hear him, but somehow, her mind was still stuck in the church.

“Emily, what is it?” asked Sam. Emily stared at Dean and didn’t say a word, just opened her mouth, with nothing coming out. Sam and Dean exchanged a look. The fucking church. What the hell happened in the church? They jumped out the window. There was glass everywhere. But why? Why did they jump out the window?

“Sam, what’s going on?” asked Dean. Sam shook his head.

“I don’t know.” Sam crouched in front of Emily, trying to hide a hiss of pain. “Kid, is everything okay? Are you hurt?” Emily was still looking at Dean. He looked away, his hands occupied with first aid supplies. “Something’s wrong,” Sam whispered.

“What?” asked Dean. Sam looked at Emily and put a hand on her shoulder. “Sam, what?”

“Dean, who- who was that demon?” said Sam. There was a demon in the church. Someone important. Someone big. Emily didn’t recognize his face. Who was it? Who the fuck-

“No one good,” answered Dean. “Look, is she okay?”

“I- I mean, I-” Sam’s eyes ran up and down Emily, scanning for blood.

“Move,” said Dean, walking back to Emily. “You fix yourself up, I’ll check the kid out.” Sam’s lips tightened in a line and he stood back up. The cracking of his knees went to Emily’s head like it was firecrackers. She winced. Dean crouched in Sam’s place. “Come on, kid, hands up,” he said, unlocking the buckles on her overalls. Emily lifted her arms up and Dean took off her shirt. His eyes moved to her shoulder. “See, you’re all good. Just a scratch.” He hinted at a smile before he sat next to her and grabbed the first aid kit. As Dean sewed her shoulder, Emily could feel his fingers tapping on her arm. One, two, three. Index finger, middle finger, ring finger. She could see it now. The demon in the church. She could make out the fragments.

“It was him, wasn’t it?” she whispered. Dean’s hands froze. He sighed. Sam didn’t seem to hear her. Emily’s stomach contorted. She could feel the nausea quickly approaching. “I could feel it.”

“Sam?” said Dean, putting down the tools. Sam looked up. “Bucket, quick-” Sam gave Dean the trashcan just in time for the retches. Emily vomited. And then vomited again. Someone was keeping her hair back, but she didn’t know who it was. Once her stomach stopped turning on itself, Emily stood up.

“Kid, are you okay?” asked Dean. Sam helped her stand. “Is- Were you hit in your-”

“No, it’s… it’s not that.” said Emily. She looked at Dean. He couldn’t withstand her glare. “You were there,” she said.

It was day twenty-five thousand. Or at least, that was the last time she’d counted. Emily had stopped counting. It had been almost seventy years. Nobody was coming to rescue her. Nobody was going to save her. She was stuck in hell.

Every day, he showed up. The demons moved at his passage, they made space for him. His name was Alastair, and he only had one question.

“You want this to stop? Join me.”

Emily had thought about giving in. Year after year. But she never found a good enough reason. What she was going through- she didn’t wish it on her worst enemy. The feeling of being taken apart, piece by piece, the pain coming in waves- because everyone in hell everyone made sure you didn’t get used to it - the voices saying ‘nobody is coming to save you Emily’ and ‘they live so much better without you’- she didn’t wish it upon anybody. Anybody but herself.

The voices were right, she deserved to be there.

But somewhere after day twenty five thousand, she heard a familiar voice. Granted, there were always voices. There was always someone screaming, but nobody was around. Not a single other human- or soul- to be seen. But something in the screams was quite familiar.

“What?” said Sam. Dean took a step back and looked away. “Dean, what-” Emily squinted at Dean. He was in hell. But that wasn’t it. That was not why Alastair was important. There was something else. “Emily-”

“I remember now,” said Emily, ignoring Sam. “You- You were there.”

Emily looked everywhere. If she could hear Dean, he was obviously around. And for years, decades, she tried to look. She looked everywhere. But there was nobody in sight. Ever. Not above her, not below her, not around her. It was miles and miles of absolutely nothing but pain. And when Dean stopped screaming, Emily convinced herself she’d just imagined it. You don’t get out of hell. You don’t move to better places. Unless someone saves you. And if someone saved Dean, they were definitely not going to look for her. Not anymore.

“You- you remember? What are you talking about?” asked Sam. Dean swallowed and finally looked at Emily. Neither her nor Dean looked at Sam. “Guys!”

“Emily-” said Dean.

“I- I remember. I remember it all.”

Emily watched as the demons moved to the sides, making space for Alastair. Like every other day.

“You can shove your question up your ass,” she said. Alastair grinned. He rotated one of his torture tools in between his fingers.

“Oh, Emily, that’s not what I am here for,” he said. “Not anymore.” Alastair smirked. “Today, I am here to train my newest recruit.” Dean wasn’t gone. He never left hell. He just switched sides.

“Shit,” said Sam. “Okay, kid?” He put himself between Emily and Dean. “I need you to snap out of it.” Emily stared in front of her. The church. Alastair. Dean. It all made sense. All the times she’d had flashbacks of hell, always when Dean touched her. “Emily, look at me,” said Sam. Emily didn’t look at him. Sam turned towards Dean. “Take a walk,” he said.

“I-”

“I said- take a walk!” repeated Sam. Dean rolled his eyes and disappeared out the door. “He’s gone, okay? You’re fine. You’re okay.”

“I was there. I heard it. Dean Winchester is saved,” she whispered. “That was the last thing I heard before I woke up topside.” Sam sighed.

“Emily, I- I think you’re… uh- in shock or something.”

“I resisted for eighty years just for him to come and fuck it all up,” she said. “He couldn’t even resist a few decades. I went on for a whole fucking century.” Sam’s eyes widened.

“Emily-” Sam looked around. “You need to snap out of it.” When Emily didn't react, Sam grabbed her forearm and dragged her to the bathroom. She didn’t oppose any resistance. Sam dragged her under the shower and opened the tap. He looked at her, waiting for a reaction. It took her a while. The cold permeated her and slowly brought her back to reality. Sam stood in front of her, worry seeping through his eyes and through his mind. Emily’s eyes filled with tears.

“I can’t-” she said. “I can’t-” She sat down in the shower. Sam turned it off. “I- I- I can’t see him. I- I-”

“Hey, hey- it’s fine,” said Sam. Emily released a sob. “I’ll talk with Dean, okay? I’ll-”

“Then what?” Emily snapped, water splashing from her hair. “What happens then?!” Sam sighed. “What the hell am I supposed to do?! I can’t even go back to Portland, I- I’m legally dead!”

“Emily-”

“No, Sam- can’t you see? This is it! This is how it ends! Me and Dean can barely live around each other as it is, what am I supposed to do now?!” Sam sighed.

“Let’s get you through the night first, okay?”

“Sam, it’s- I already know it’s going to be bad, I- I-”

“Let me handle it,” said Sam. He sat next to her in the shower. “Please.”

“I don’t know how the fuck I’m going to live with Dean for the rest of my life.” said Emily. She stood up, careful not to slip on the water. “I need to get out of here.”

“Emily, wait-” Sam slipped on the shower twice before he was able to catch up with Emily. She was already wearing her t-shirt.

“No, I- I’m just gonna go, okay? I can’t be here when he comes back.” Emily grabbed her backpack.

“Why?!” Asked Sam. “Emily, stop- stop!” Emily slowed down in front of the door. “Nothing bad is going to happen, okay? I’ll handle Dean.” Emily sighed and put her hand on the handle. “Come on, Emily-”

“No, no- no,” she said, taking a step away from Sam. “I- I need to be alone.” Sam crossed his arms.

“You and I both know that’s not true,” he said. Emily rolled her eyes and walked out the room. She lit a cigarette and turned the corner, where Dean was walking towards her. Great.

“Where are you going?” he asked, confused. Emily walked past him and ignored him. “Emily!” She hurried her steps, but Dean didn’t seem to be following her. When she turned, he was gone.

“What the hell, Sam?” Asked Dean, slamming the motel room behind him. Sam emerged from the bathroom, soaked in water. “Please tell me she knocked you out and ran and you didn’t just let her go!” Sam shook his head and looked away. “Sam!”

“Dean, I tried, okay? She didn’t want to stay. I’ll call her tomorrow before we leave and see if we can give her a lift back to Bobby’s.”

“Sam, she’s a kid!” Sam scoffed. “You know how she is! She’s gonna come back covered in-”

“I know!” said Sam. “You’re the one that made her like that, ” Dean shook his head. “She’s terrified.”

“Of what?” asked Dean. Sam put his hands on his waist.  

“Of you, Dean!” he said. Dean didn’t answer. “And now you’re all worried? Probably should have thought about it before- before everything!”

“You weren’t there, you don’t-”

“Oh, please!” said Sam. “You’re an asshole, Dean!” Dean bit the inside of his cheek and turned away from Sam. He tried tapping his fingers on his thigh. Everything was going to be fine if he did. Everything was under control. One, two three. Index finger, middle finger, ring finger. Ring finger. Ring finger. “So yes, I let her go! Whatever she does to herself can never be worse than what you did to her.” Dean’s vision went red for a moment, his blood boiling like it was fire, and when he focused on the world around him again, Sam was massaging his cheek.  

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Dean. “So stop.” He walked to his bed and took off his jacket. Sam looked at him through the room, in silence. Dean divided the dirty clothes from the acceptable clothes. “We need to find a laundromat tomorrow. I’m running out of clothes,” he said.

“Seriously?” said Sam with a scoff. “Dude.”

“What do you want me to say, Sam?” asked Dean, throwing his shirt on top of his duffel. “Would you like to pour my heart out to you and cry? Sorry, but I have a dick.” Sam scoffed and walked to his bed.  “What, you think I liked it? I hated every second of it.”

“Dean, you agreed to doing it,” said Sam. “Don’t act like you were forced, because you weren’t.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean said. “Stop- stop talking about stuff you can’t understand.”

“Then help me understand,” Sam sighed. Dean shook his head.

“No,” Sam looked away, then started packing. Dean rested his hands on his bag for a moment before he finished packing and threw it on the floor. He laid down on the bed and closed his eyes. When Sam’s phone rang, he opened one eye. “What’s going on?”

“None of your business.” said Sam, walking towards the door while wearing his jacket.

“Is it Ruby?” Dean prompted himself up on his elbows. “Is it-”

“I said- none of your business.” Sam grabbed his jacket and walked out the room without Dean having the chance to say anything else.

“It’s me.” said Sam, knocking on the motel door. The lock clicked and he pushed in. Emily was sitting in her bed, holding her gun. “What’s going on?” asked Sam. “You texted me 911.”

“You were right,” she whispered. “I can’t be alone.” Sam closed the door. Emily’s shirt was stained with blood where Dean never finished sawing her back up. Sam sat next to her. He took the gun out of her hands and placed it on the bed side table. Emily looked at him and touched the point where Dean had hit him not ten minutes before. “What the hell happened?”

“It’s nothing,” said Sam. Emily rolled her eyes. “Seriously. I’m fine.”

“Sam-”

“Emily, don’t worry about me.” said Sam. “Tell me what’s going on.” Emily’s breath shook as she pointed at the open bathroom door.

“It’s my powers, I- I-” she said. “They’re out of control, I can't- I can't do this anymore!” Sam stood up and walked to the bathroom. The floor was covered in glass shards from the shower screen. The mirror was cracked and the tiny ceiling window had no glass, either. “E-Everytime I try to go to sleep I have a nightmare and I wake up to something else exploding.” Sam moved some glass with his foot.

“Want me to stay here?” said Sam. Emily nodded. He looked at her arms. “Did you…” He nodded towards her.

“No.” said Emily. “That’s why I called. I- I don’t want to.” Sam closed the bathroom door and walked back to the bed. He sat next to Emily and grabbed the tv remote.

“Does it have cable?” he asked. Emily shrugged. Sam turned on the TV and set it on BroadwayTV. “Chorus Line…” he said. “You like this?”

“Yeah, my- my mom had a vhs when I was a kid. I watched it a bunch when I was sick.” Sam smiled and moved Emily’s t-shirt from her shoulder.

“It’s fine. You don’t need to patch it up,” said Emily. “I can do it tomorrow.”

“Don’t be stupid.” said Sam. “I’ll do it and then I’ll get you dinner,” Emily huffed, but smiled.

“Thanks.”

         Emily woke up in the middle of the night. Nothing was exploding. She hadn’t had a single nightmare after Sam arrived. But Sam wasn’t where she had last seen him. Her heart started racing faster and faster. She sat up and took off her covers. She checked the time on the clock that laid on the side table. Three AM. Where the fuck was Sam? Emily looked around the room. Sam’s stuff was still there. The bathroom light was on. Sam was just in the bathroom. It was fine. Emily laid back down. Emily stood up to get water and heard the shower running. Minutes passed, and Sam wouldn't come out of the bathroom. Emily stared at the ceiling, silence surrounding her and the room while she slowly dozed back to sleep. She woke up again. Half past three. What the fuck was Sam doing in the shower so long? Emily slipped out of bed.

“Sam?” she called, walking towards the bathroom. “Sam- are you okay?” The shower was still running, but Emily pushed down the handle and entered.

Sam didn't notice her at first. She stood in the doorway, frowning, her exhausted eyes trying to focus, as she didn't understand what was going on. Sam was kneeling in front of the bathroom. A couple of seconds after opening the door, an acid smell overwhelmed her. Sam was vomiting. The floor was still covered in glass shards from her powers going out of control, shards that Sam had not bothered moving. A little pool of condensation and blood was forming under his knees. Sam used one hand to move his hair out of the way and that was when Emily saw it. Sam wasn't just vomiting. He was making himself sick. Emily turned off the shower, getting Sam's attention. His eyes widened and he put both hands on the toilet bowl. His head hung between his shoulders as his chest shook up and down.

“Fuck,” he whispered, staring at the toilet bowl. “Fuck.”

“Sam-” she said. Sam pushed himself away from the toilet and leaned on the wall behind him.

“Please, Emily- D-Don’t, okay?” He huffed. “I- I don't want to hear it.” Emily crossed her arms. She sniffed, the condensation from the shower making her nose runny.

“Does- Does Dean know?”

“No.” Sam closed his eyes. “And can we please keep it that way? Last thing I need is him trying to… fix me or whatever.” Emily didn't answer. She looked at Sam through the bathroom. She'd known Sam had an eating disorder for a long time, but she had no idea how deep it really went. How far from okay Sam was. A wave of guilt hit her right in the face. She should have known. Sam always knew when she wasn't okay, Sam was always there when- “Oh, please-” he sighed. “You didn't know because I didn't want you to know.”

“I could have helped…” she said. “I- I-”

“Emily… You couldn't have.” Sam shook his head. “You were dead.”

“How long?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“It- it started when Dean died and- and- I mean- then he came back and then you came back, and- I tried to stop, but-” Sam's eyes filled with tears. Emily walked to the toilet and flushed it. Sam dried his face. Emily sat next to him. “I'm sorry, I- I was supposed to help you tonight and instead- instead I'm just giving you more to think about.”

“Don't say that, okay?” she said. “I mean- I thought I was fucked up, but this is… this is worse.” Sam emitted a long sigh. “We're like… a very fucked up version of the miracle girls,” Emily said. Sam huffed.

“Dude-” he said, throwing his head back. “How's this worse than killing yourself?” Emily shrugged.

“The fucked up twins,” she said. “That's a great name for us.” Sam shook his head. He dragged a hand across his hair and released a deep breath.

“It feels good to finally tell someone,” he said, closing his eyes. Emily nodded but remained silent. She and Sam remained on the floor for a little longer. It was almost like Emily's problems were wiped out for a few minutes, just long enough for her to forget about the harsh reality that waited for her just outside that bathroom. Emily stood up. Sam looked at her.

“Get back to bed, I’ll clean up,” she said. Sam stood up and disappeared outside the bathroom. He flopped on the bed. Emily took some toilet paper and used it to try and move the glass to a corner. She tried to shield her hands from the sharp edges, but the toilet paper soon turned red, the glass cutting her palms. In silence, she moved the glass away as best as she could and then sneaked to her bag. She grabbed some gauze and wrapped her hand. Finally, just as she saw the sun starting to peek through the windows, she let herself fall into the bed and closed her eyes.

She didn't manage to sleep much, then someone knocked on her door. She ignored it. When the knock continued, she pushed Sam off his pillow and used it to cover her head. Sam mumbled a complaint and tried to get the pillow back, but his phone started to ring.

“Dean, hey-” he said, standing up from the bed. “What- what are you doing out here? How did you even-” Sam dragged a hand across his face. “No! That's- Dean, that's not a good idea! At all!” Emily let go of the pillow and sat up. “Dean, I am telling you- Can't this wait?” Sam put his free hand on his waist. “I don't know, a couple of days? A week? …what do you mean no?!” Emily rolled her eyes and dragged her hands across her face multiple times. She used the gauze to scratch her neck. “Okay, you know what? I'm coming outside, let's-” The knocking resumed.

“Open the fucking door, Sam!” said Dean's voice.

“Jesus, Dean, give me a fucking second!” Sam closed the call and left the room, slamming the door with an annoyed groan. “Dude, you can't show up like this, okay? She needs time!” Sam's voice faded as he walked away from the door. Around a minute later, when Emily was just about to lay back down, someone opened the door. Dean entered the room, alone.

“Where's Sam?” Emily stood in front of the bed.

“Cuffed to the car,” said Dean, showing Emily the keys in his hand. “We need to talk.”

“No, we don't.” said Emily, grabbing her backpack off the ground. “You punched Sam yesterday and- you cuffed him to your car? I'm not talking to you until you calm the fuck down!” Dean appeared next to her. She grabbed her backpack and moved away. “Get away from me.” Emily walked towards the door, but Dean tried to stop her by grabbing her arm. The lightbulb in the room exploded. “Dean,” she said, closing her eyes. She pushed her finger into the cuts in her palm. Stay focused. She repeated herself. This is real. The pain is real. “Don’t make this any harder.” Emily pushed the door open.

“Me? I'm making this hard?!” Asked Dean. “I come to talk and you don't even look at me!”

“Talk?” Emily scoffed. “You want to talk? You lost your chance at that like… ten horrible things ago! How about you stop punching people? How about you stop lying just to make yourself look better? Then maybe- maybe we’ll talk!” Dean dragged a hand across his face.

“Look, I'm sorry, okay?”

“Oh, okay!” Emily said. “Dean Winchester's sorry- stop the fucking train!” Dean rolled his eyes.

“I didn't have a choice!” he said. Emily scoffed. She looked down and Dean's hands were tapping against his waist. One, two, three. Index finger, middle finger, ring finger.

“Of course you did!” Emily yelled. “Just like I did! You just took the wrong one and now- breaking news- here are the fucking consequences!”

“Can you blame me?” said Dean. “You think I liked it or something?!”

“Oh, Jesus Christ- Can we skip the part where you cry like you're the victim? Where you act like you had no faults, like being an asshole just… happened? You chose to be like that, through and through- even after you died!” Dean didn't answer. He sniffed and dragged a hand across his face. Emily walked out of the motel room, leaving the door open behind her. She walked to the Impala and freed Sam from the cuffs, thinking Dean was going to follow her. But when she turned, he was pacing in the room. Emily frowned as Dean walked back and forth, his fingers obsessively tapping over his thighs an endless loop from his index finger to his ring finger.

“What did you say to him?” asked Sam. Emily shrugged. She walked back in the room.

“Fuck, fuck-” whispered Dean. He saw her walk in and stopped walking. “Why- why do you have to be like that?” he asked.

“Like what?!” Dean looked at her and clenched his fists. He resumed pacing. “Dean, what the fuck are you doing?!” she asked. He shushed her. Emily frowned. Sam appeared behind her.

What's going on? he asked telepathically.

I don't know. she sighed. “Dean-”

“I said SHUT UP!” he yelled. Dean sat on the bed, his legs shaking so much that Emily could see them. “God- you're such a bitch! I just wanted to talk!”

“And I didn't want to listen!” she said.

“Stop yelling at me!” Dean's fists clenched as he covered his face with them.

“You're the one who's yelling!” said Emily. “You're the one that forced me to stay here- you started this!” Dean shook his head.

“No! I didn't- I didn't mean to, I- I just wanted to talk!”

Emily-

“You never just want to talk!” said Emily. “All you want is a new excuse to punch someone!”

“No- not this time, okay? I- I wanted to-”

“I don't care what you wanted to do!” said Emily. “I'm fucking done with you!” Emily looked at Sam and turned to leave again. Dean sniffed.

“Why are you making this so damn hard?!” he asked. Emily’s blood boiled for a moment.

Emily, no-

“AND WHY DID YOU SAY YES TO ALASTAIR?!” she yelled, ignoring Sam's telepathy.

“Don't-” Dean whispered, looking away. His hands were shaking as he grasped the bedsheet.

“I BEGGED YOU, DEAN! I BEGGED YOU EVERY SINGLE DAY!” she screamed, talking towards Dean.

“Please…”

“Emily-” said Sam, trying to drag Emily back. Dean covered his ears with his hands, tears streaming down his face.

“No, you listen to me!” Emily grabbed Dean's hand and moved them away. “You don't get to run from this!” Dean fought for his hands back, but Emily fought him back with ease. “TEN FUCKING YEARS, DEAN! TEN YEARS OF BEGGING- EVERY SINGLE-”

“STOP!” he yelled, trying to get his arms back to cover his ears. “PLEASE!”

“How does it feel like?!” said Emily. “It’s not a good feeling, is it?” She let go of Dean's arms and felt something dragging her away. It was Sam, forcing her out of the room.

“That’s enough!” he said. As soon as Emily was outside the room, he looked back at Dean. “Holy shit, Emily-”

“What?!” said Emily, shoving her arm back. “He-”

“Emily, look at him!” said Sam. Emily rolled her eyes and turned. “What does it look like?” Emily scoffed.

“He's throwing a fucking fit, that's what it looks like!” She said, crossing her arms. Sam remained silent as Dean dried his face and tried to take a deep breath, but his chest shook. He held his breath for a moment, then coughed. He kept repeating something under his breath, over and over, his fingers tapping on his thigh. Emily rolled her eyes.

“What is this, revenge or something? Just because he did it to you, doesn't mean you should do it to him!” said Sam.

“What the hell are you talking about?!” Sam shook his head. “I'll go back to Bobby,” she said, walking towards the exit. “I'll steal a car on the way, it's fine.” Emily took three steps before Sam answered.

“Emily, don't be like him,” he said. Emily stopped and closed her eyes. “He's an asshole. You're not.” Emily didn't turn. She sighed and looked back towards the motel room. Emily knew if the roles were reversed, he would have forced her off the bed and dragged her to the car, yelling at her to stop crying. And every single instinct was telling her to do the same. To show him how it felt to be treated like that. But Sam was right. That was something an asshole would do, and she didn't want to be an asshole. Emily put her hands on her waist.

“I can't believe I'm going to do this,” she whispered. “He doesn't deserve it.” Sam looked at her. He didn't say anything. Emily rolled her eyes and walked back in the motel. Dean looked up and turned away from Emily.

“Leave me alone,” said Dean. Emily stopped in the doorway, her blood boiling. Just the sound of his voice was enough to make her mad. She looked back at Sam. He nodded towards Dean. Emily sighed.

“Stand up,” she said, crossing her arms. Dean ignored her. He sniffed and tried to hold his breath. “Okay, you know what?” she said. “I'm so done with you. I said stand up!” she said. Dean ignored her again. Emily rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm. He forced him to stand and dragged him to the bathroom. Dean didn't react much. He didn't oppose any resistance. Emily pushed him in the shower and turned the water all the way to cold. She opened the tap, freezing cold water falling on Dean. He looked at Emily and then turned his eyes at the ceiling. He crossed his arms. Sam appeared outside the bathroom.

Sam, I don't think it's working.

Give it a second.

It's already been a second! The water kept showering Dean, his clothes drenched and dripping on the shower floor.

Emily, I have to ask. Emily looked at Sam and scowled. Did you really think this would work?

It worked for me-

Did it though? Emily sighed. Dean had started to shake. In the corner of her eyes, Emily saw him dry his face.

“Stop crying!” she yelled. Dean broke into sobs. “What are you even crying for?! You- You're the one who fucked up!” Sam shook his head and crossed his arms.  “Just-”

“Just leave me alone!” Emily clenched her fists, tears of frustration pushing at the corner of her eyes. “Just go!”

“Fine! I tried, okay?!” Emily yelled.

“I don't want you to try!” yelled Dean. Emily closed her eyes, anger overwhelming her. “I don't need you to do whatever you think you're doing!” Emily's hand moved like it wasn't hers, flying across Dean's face. She grabbed his shirt and pushed him to the wall across the shower. Freezing water showered her. She hissed through the stinging pain. “What is wrong with you?!”

“Stop-crying!” she yelled. “I'm trying to help you, okay?!” Dean didn’t answer. “Do you think this is fun for me or something? I don’t even know what I’m doing!”

“You think I did?” asked Dean. Sam appeared in the bathroom and gestured at her to get out. Emily swallowed, looked at Dean one last time before walking out the bathroom. Sam tried to talk but she walked past him.

“Spare me,” she said. As she walked out of the room, she took away her t-shirt. She reached inside the car window and took a shirt out of her backpack.

“Emily-”

“What did you expect, Sam?!” She snapped, turning around. “That we would- I don't know- hug it out or something?!”

“I- I-”

“He might be an asshole, I might be a bitch- but you- you're an idiot! And I'm even more of an idiot for ever listening to you!” Emily looked around for strangers in the parking lot, then slid out of her overalls and wore a dry pair from her backpack. “I don't know how to fix these things!” She yelled. “The only way I was taught is to fucking yell at people and hit them! How am I supposed-”

“Okay, I get it…” Sam sighed. “I’ll- I’ll go adn…” Sam trailed off and walked back into the motel room. Emily sat in the back of the Impala and threw her head back. She took a deep breath. Sam and Dean didn't come out of the motel room for at least fifteen minutes. When they did, Sam walked out first with the car keys in hand, and Dean did later. He sat in the passenger's seat, in front of Emily, and didn't look at her in the rearview mirror like he usually would. Emily sighed and took out a book out of her backpack.

It wasn't that hard. Sam looked at her as he backed out of the parking lot.

Shut up.

Emily sat on the Impala’s hood and lit up a cigarette. Sam walked out of Bobby's house and sat next to her.

“Dean's asleep,” he said. Emily nodded. “Can we talk?”

“I'd really rather not,” she said. “I'm tired. I'm gonna smoke one and then go to sleep.” Emily took a puff out of her cigarette and looked in front of her.

“Okay, just… listen, okay?” said Sam with a sigh.

“Dude- Why did you ask if you weren't going to listen?” she asked. Sam huffed and Emily rolled her eyes.

“Dean didn't know you were going to be in hell,” Sam said. Emily dragged her hand on her face. “Not until he saw you.” Emily took a deep breath and remained silent. She smoked half the cigarette in silence before Sam spoke again. “But regardless…” Emily rolled her eyes. “...you shouldn't have gotten down to his level,” he said. “I know he always treats you like garbage, but he grew up being treated like that. He doesn't know any better. You do.” Emily shook her head.

“I can't believe you're on his side,” she said. “When I finally ran away from him, he came to look for me. He wanted help for a case. That's how I ended up being taken by the Russians. That's how I ended up killing myself.” Emily finished the cigarette and threw it on the floor. “Then when I died, he showed up down there too. And I'm supposed to forgive him? I'm supposed to like- help him through…what? He's the one that did it! I'm the one that should be-”

“I'm not on his side! What he did is wrong! I'm just trying to tell you… this isn't the way to fix it.”

“I'm not even the one who should fix it!” she said. “He is!” Sam crossed his arms.

“You're right. But you should let him do it,” he said. Emily looked at him. “And you're not.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Emily huffed and tried to lit up another cigarette. Sam took away the lighter. “Dude!” She said.

“One is enough,” he said. “Emily, yesterday he wanted to patch you up, this morning- he came in to talk and you just flipped on him.” Emily rolled her eyes. “If you just-”

“What? If I just forgot everything he did?!” She asked. “Sam, I can't do it, okay?”

“You don't have to. Just… maybe he’s really changed.” said Sam. “And if he did, you should let him.” Emily rolled her eyes, shook her head and walked back inside of Bobby's house.

Blood in the water

From Legally Blonde - The Musical

“Emily, we found Alastair,” said Ramiel. “Ma non parla,” he said. Emily frowned, confused. Ramiel smiled. “He won’t talk. He hasn't told us who's killing our kind.” Emily raised her eyebrows and looked at Dean.

“He won’t talk as in… you can’t make him talk,” he said.

“Did you try asking kindly?” said Emily. “He's definitely the type to help, be nice and tell you what you want.” Castiel, annoyed, rolled his eyes.

“We haven’t,” he said. “We need someone who’s qualified.” He pointed to Dean. Emily crossed her arms and turned towards Sam, who was standing behind her. “Someone who knows how to make him talk.” Emily turned back towards Castiel.

“You're kidding, right?” said Emily. Dean's hands started tapping the table next to him. Ramiel and Castiel looked at her and didn't answer. “This has to be a joke.”

“It's not,” said Ramiel. “I'm sorry, amore.” Emily rolled her eyes.

“Can you stop being a creep to my sister?” asked Dean. “She's not even old enough to drink and you're… I don't know a thousand years old?”

“Dean!” Emily turned towards him. He rolled his eyes. “Ramiel, what the hell?”

“What do you have to do with this?” asked Castiel. “We're not asking you, we're asking him.” He pointed at Dean. He swallowed and looked up, clenching and opening his hand a couple of times.

“No,” he said. “I'm not doing it.”

“I'm afraid I'm gonna have to insist,” said Castiel. He extended his arm towards Dean and Emily went to stop him, but in a blink, she was somewhere else. A humid cold immediately hit her and she looked around. The walls were covered in pipes and there was a faint sound of water running. Across the room, a door, with a small glass window.

“What the hell?” she asked. “What is this?” She looked at Dean and then turned, but Sam wasn't there. “Where's Sam?” Dean walked towards the door and looked inside.

“Bring her back,” he said. Castiel and Ramiel stood in front of them, silent. “What are you waiting for?” Emily looked inside the door. Alastair was tied to a devil trap.

“We can't,” said Ramiel. “She's classified as high risk, we can't risk her using her powers or coming back to get you out.”

“What part of ‘no’ do you struggle to understand?!” she asked. “And- what the hell does high risk even mean?”

“I don't care, bring her back!” Dean said. “I'm not doing anything if she's here.” Castiel and Ramiel looked at each other.

“Angels are dying,” Castiel said. “Something needs to be done.”

“I know this is a lot to ask,” said Ramiel. “And Emily being here doesn’t make it any easier. But we have to ask it anyway.”

“Ramiel, you don't have to do anything,” said Emily. “What about you think with your brain and not with your boss’ brain?”

“Our superiors have begun to question our sympathies,” said Castiel, glaring at Ramiel. “They feel we’ve begun expressing emotions. Which are doorways to doubt.”

 “How’s that a bad thing?” Asked Emily. “If anything, it would make you more fun to be around.”

“Emotions impair judgment,” said Ramiel. “So, we’re being watched. Uriel will come if you fail to follow our orders.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” asked Emily. Dean sighed. He put his hands on his waist. Ramiel looked at Castiel and crossed his arms.

“I'm sure your powers can be useful in there,” he said.

“What?!” said Dean. “No, absolutely not- you're not-” he turned towards Emily, then towards the angels again. “She's not coming in there!”

“There’s no time,” said Castiel. “I don’t want this any more than you do, but we need it. Alastair needs to talk.” He pointed to the door. Dean clenched his fist and looked back at Emily.

“You ask me to open that door and walk through it...” said Dean. “You will not like what walks back out.”

“Dean,” Emily walked next to Dean. “You don't have to do this, we can leave.” Ramiel shook his head.

“No, amore,” he said. “Uriel will come, and so will more angels. I think it’s best if you don’t resist.” Dean looked at Castiel and swallowed.

“Under one condition,” he said. Emily tried to complain, but Dean didn't let her. “She stays out of that room.”

Emily leaned on the door next to Ramiel and lit up a cigarette.

“Want one?” she asked. Ramiel shook his head. Emily put the pack away and stared in front of her. “Why are you doing this, Ramiel?”

“I'm under strict orders,” he said.

“Dean shouldn't have to do this,” she said. “It's not right.”

“He's our best shot right now.” Emily sighed and turned to look at Dean through the window. He was checking all his tools one by one, his fingers tapping on the cart. “Why do you wish to be in there with him so much?” asked Ramiel. Emily shrugged and turned back towards the rest of the room. “I know what you two have been through. Anybody in their right mind would run away from him.”

“Well, let’s just say… I’m under strict orders,” she said. “Sam said I shouldn’t be too hard on him or… I don’t know, whatever,” Emily flicked some ash away from the tip of the cigarette.

“Are you scared?” Asked Ramiel. Emily nodded.

“But, you know… he’s my brother. So maybe, if- if I’m in there, I… I don’t know.” she sighed. Ramiel looked at her and smiled.

“Did you like the flower field I made for you?” he asked. Emily nodded, staring in front of him. The last thing she needed was to lead him on. Not that he was bad looking, she just had the feeling he wasn’t all about the sex, with all that calling her Italian names. They remained silent for the rest of Emily's cigarette, only the sound of Dean’s tools to be heard, but just as Emily finished smoking, Ramiel pushed away from the door.

“Where are you going?” asked Emily.

“I am going to check on Castiel,” he said. “Don't move, okay?” Ramiel took a step away and winked. Emily frowned. As the angel turned the corner, Emily looked back inside the room. Dean was still preparing his tools. Emily felt a shiver go down her spine. Did she really want to go in there? Could she take it? Maybe it wasn't as good as an idea. Dean looked up and made eye contact through the window. He sighed and looked away, his fists clenching and resting on the cart. Emily pushed the door open. Dean’s eyes widened and he walked towards her.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “Don’t-”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.” said Emily, closing the door behind her. Dean held it open. Emily sighed.

“Yes, I’m fine. Of course I’m fine,” he said, his eyes turning to the floor. “Now get out.”

“Dean…”

“Dude, what do you want me to tell you? Do you have another solution?” Emily looked behind Dean, at the tools he was just organizing.

“Maybe Cas was right, you know? Maybe I can help,” she said. Dean’s hand clenched around the door frame.

“No,” he said. “No way.” Emily looked around for a moment, trying to summon a set of words that wouldn’t turn that conversation into a fight.

“It’s not a big deal,” she said. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you do it before.” Dean’s fingers tapped on the door.

“Don’t,” he said. “Just… get out.” Emily pushed the door back open. “Emily!”

“You know what? No.” said Emily. “I’m tired of this.”

“Of what?” Asked Dean.

“Being scared,” she said. “We’re not in hell anymore, Dean.” Dean closed his eyes and sighed. “It’s over.”

“I don’t want you here,” Dean said. “Get out.” 

“Why?”

”Because…” Dean turned towards Alastair. “He’s going to try and use us against each other,” he said without looking at her. His fingers continued tapping on the door right next to Emily.

“As I said,” said Emily. “We’re not in hell anymore.” Dean clenched his fists and then stretched his hands. He took a deep breath.

“Look, I know Sam wants us to turn all chick-flick on each other, but you don't have to go through this just to make him happy,” he said. Emily scoffed.

“Sam’s not the reason I’m here,” she said. “Seriously, Dean. I’m not asking to do anything. I’ll just be your backup.”

“I don’t need backup,”  said Dean.

“Good, so that means I won’t have to interfere, right?”  

Dean slapped Alastair awake and took a step back. The demon looked around and grinned as he saw Emily. He started singing and then, as Dean dragged the cart to him, he laughed.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “This is a very serious, very emotional situation for you. I shouldn't laugh, it's just that- I mean, are they serious? They sent you to torture me? And she’s your sidekick?” The demon smirked.

“You got one chance. One,” said Dean. “Tell me who's killing the angels. I want a name.”

“You think I'll see all your scary toys and spill my guts?” asked Alastair. Emily crossed her arms.

“Oh, you'll spill your guts, one way or another.” said Dean. “I just didn't wanna ruin my shoes. Now answer the question.”

“Or what? You'll work me over? But then, maybe you don't want to.” The demon grinned. “You’re too scared.” Dean turned back towards Emily for a moment.

“I'm here, aren't I?” he said.

“Yeah, but she’s here as well...” Alastair nodded towards Emily. “Torturing her… it was your real punishment, wasn’t it?” Dean walked back towards the cart. “And for her…” Alastair smiled, satisfied. “I never had that much fun in my very long life.” Dean clicked his tongue and huffed.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” he said with a hint of sarcasm.

“Oh, Dean. You have not disappointed me so far.” Dean didn’t turn to look at him. “Come on, one of you has to want a little payback for everything I did to you two. For all the pokes and prods. Mh?” Dean looked behind him and then walked to Emily.

“Your powers,” he said. “What can you do?” Emily frowned.

“I- I don’t know, I haven’t used them in a long time, but I can move things.” said Emily. “But it gets tiring.” Dean nodded and sighed. He put his hands on his waist and looked away for a moment. “Dean?”

“Yeah, I- I don’t know. Maybe it’s a bad idea,” he said. He looked somewhere behind Emily for a moment.

“No?” said Alastair. “How about the things I did to your daddy?” Dean’s eyes came back into focus, he looked at Emily.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” said Dean. Emily crossed her arms and looked at Alastair. She clenched her fist and the chains that were keeping him tied down tightened. His groan of pain turned into laughing. “I better not hear you cry about this later,” whispered Dean, walking away. Emily followed him to the center of the room.

“Oh, you’re bringing out the big guns,” said Alastair. “Both of you, with me, down there? That’s the dream team!”  

“You can’t stall forever,” Dean took a jar from the cart and popped it open.

“First, came John Winchester,” said the demon. “Made a good name for himself. A hundred years. After each session, I'd make him the same offer I made you. I'd put down my blade if he picked one up.” Dean picked up a tool.

“Just give me the demon’s name,” he said. The demon ignored him.

“But he said nein each and every time,” said Alastair. “Oh, damned if I couldn't break him. Just like the little one.” He nodded towards Emily. “She really pulled out all the stops, just like her daddy.” Emily tightened the chains more.

“I wouldn’t mess with her,” said Dean. “She can be a real bitch.”

“So I’ve heard,” said Alastair. “Demon blood, right? It really fucks people up.” Emily huffed. From the cart, Dean took a bottle that looked like liquor and took a long sip from it. “You know, Dean…” said Alastair. “When you came to hell, I thought I was up against it again.” Emily walked to the cart she looked through the tools, careful not to touch them after Dean had taken almost two hours to sort them. “But daddy's little girl, he broke. He broke in thirty,” said the demon. Dean’s knuckles whitened around the jug of holy water. “You wouldn’t believe how much she believed in you.” Alastair grinned. “For the longest time, she said ‘Dean will come and save me’. Every… single… day…” Dean looked at Emily for a split second before he grabbed a syringe off the cart. He filled it with holy water. Alastair laughed. “You should have seen the look on your faces!”

“What do you say we cut the chit-chat?” asked Dean, walking towards Alastair. “Last chance to tell me who’s killing the angels.” When Alastair only grinned as an answer, Dean dipped the syringe into Alastair’s neck. His veins became visible through his skin, the sizzling sound of holy water coming in contact with the demon being overcast by the screams of pain. Dean turned back towards the cart just as Emily was crossing her arms.

“You don’t have to stay,” he said. Emily shook her head and bit the inside of her cheek.

“I’m fine,” she said. “What do you want me to do?” Dean pushed the holy water towards her and handed her the syringe. She took it, her hand shaking. Dean hesitated for a moment before grabbing a razor blade. “I thought you wanted me to use my powers,” she said. Dean closed his eyes and sighed.

“You wanted to be my backup, right?” he asked. “Than don't fucking stand there, do something.” Emily looked at him, then at Alastair. Her blood rushed faster in her veins, anger spreading in her body. She filled the syringe with holy water and walked closer to Alastair. He was catching his breath, a hint of burning smell coming from him. When he saw Emily approach, he grinned.

“Oh, Dean, the things she does for you,” he said. Emily made the chains tighter around him.

“Jesus Christ, Alastair, you really like the sound of your voice, don't you?” dhe asked. She clenched her fist around the syringe, trying to stop her hand from shaking. “Names. Now.” 

“Dean, she's trying so hard.” said the demon. “At least look at her!” Emily turned. Dean had his hands on the cart, his head dangling in between his shoulders. “Dean-” Without turning back towards Alastair, Emily stabbed his throat with the syringe. The demon screamed, smoke releasing from his arms and legs, his veins emitting orange light like they were on fire. She walked back to the cart. Dean put down the razor and took another long sip of liquor. His fingers tapped on the cart. One, two, three. Index finger, middle finger, ring finger. Emily swallowed: she had to keep going. Even if Dean had said he didn't need backup, she was the backup. She couldn't stop. From the cart, she took a knife Ruby had given them. She rolled it through her fingers and walked back to Alastair, who had started singing to mask his pain.

“There's that little pig-poker. I wondered where it went,” said the demon. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to play tough with me,” he said. Emily couldn't resist the temptation of slapping him.

“I’m not your sweetheart,” she said. “I'm the one who's going to make you talk.” Alastair broke into laughter and Emily stabbed him in the arm. The laughs turned into screams. Emily turned the knife on itself. Alastair's flesh started burning, causing the screams to intensify. Emily walked back to Dean. “Dude,” she said, seeing he hadn't moved at all. He looked at her for a brief moment before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

“I'm fine,” he said. He clenched his fists, the tapping coming to an abrupt stop. He took the knife from Emily's hand and put it back on the cart where it used to be, taking a moment to straighten it up.

“You know, it was supposed to be your father,” said Alastair. “Then, we tried to convince your sister.” Dean sighed and picked another knife off the cart. “She was supposed to bring it on. But, in the end, it was you.”

“Bring what on?” asked Dean, pouring some holy water on the knife.

“Oh, every night, the same offer, remember?” said Alastair. Dean covered the blade in salt. “And finally you said, ‘Sign me up.’ Oh, the first time you picked up my razor, the first time you sliced into her...” Emily looked at Alastair and frowned. Something in Alastair’s words sounded familiar. “Look, she’s getting there,” he said, nodding towards Emily. Dean turned towards her.

“Shit,” she said. But before Dean could ask more, Alastair continued talking.

“And it is written that the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in hell. As he breaks, so shall it break,” he said. Emily swallowed. That was it. If Alastair was telling the truth, Dean had started the apocalypse. “We had to break the first seal before any others. Only way to get the dominoes to fall, right?” Dean walked away from Alastair and put his hands on the cart. “Topple the one at the front of the line.” Emily took the knife Dean was holding and walked to Alastair.

“Shut up,” she said. She pressed her arm on the demon’s throat.

“You can make me shut up, but you cannot stop what he st-” Emily stabbed the demon in the chest. Alastair screamed as the wound started to heat up and smoke.

“I said shut up,” said Emily. The demon caught his breath. Emily used her powers to have Ruby’s knife fly into her hand. “You worked so hard to bring the apocalypse on, it’s a pity you’re not going to be there to see it,” she said. Alastair smirked.

“Are you sure?” In a blink, he disappeared. Emily didn’t have time to turn around that she felt her body move. She slammed into the wall and fell to the ground. Her vision was blurry after hitting her head, but she could distinguish the shape of Dean held up against the demon’s trap. She tried to stand up twice before she could actually walk towards Dean. She tried to use her powers to move Alastair away from him, but the demon barely moved. He laughed.

“Oh, sweetheart, you might be strong, but you are not that strong,” he said. He grabbed Dean’s shoulder and held him up to punch him. Emily’s body flew back against the wall and fell to the ground again. Ramiel appeared next to Emily and helped her up. She looked around, trying to find the knife. It got knocked out of her hand when Alastair set himself free. The sounds of Dean getting punched intensified. Emily saw the knife across the room and flew it in her hand. Ramiel walked towards Alastair and dragged him off Dean. He held the demon still long enough for Emily to stab him in the chest. The wound lit up in yellow light, but not nearly as much as when she’d used it on other demons. Emily looked at Ramiel. Alastair grinned. “You really thought it’d be that easy?” He said. He pulled the knife out of himself and pushed Ramiel away. “You’re tough, sweetheart, I’ll give you that, but now it’s time to die.” As Alastair said that, Emily felt her body move backwards again, but resisted it just enough to only make her fall. “You can’t stall forever,” said Alastair. Emily’s mind flooded with familiar white noise. Sam was around, and he was looking for them.

“I don’t need to stall,” said Emily. Ramiel managed to stand up. “You’re going back to hell.”

“What are you going to do?” Alastair dragged her standing from her overalls. “You’re not strong enough. Not to really hurt me.” He punched her and then dragged her against the wall. He pushed his arm on her neck. “Guess who’s going back to he-” Alastair choked. The pressure on Emily’s neck ended and she fell to the ground. Behind Alastair was Sam, his hand raised as he had done the night she found out about him and Ruby working together. Emily stood back up.

“Who’s murdering the angels?” asked Sam. Emily massaged her throat and limped towards Ramiel.

“You think I’m gonna tell you?” said Alastair. Sam turned his hand on itself and Alastair screamed. His eyes rolled white.

“Yeah, I do,” said Sam. Emily looked at Ramiel. She pointed at Castiel, who’d also been knocked out during the fight. Ramiel nodded and walked to help the angel, while Emily tried to make her way to Dean. “How are the demons killing angels?” asked Sam.

“I don’t know,” said Alastair, choking. Emily arrived next to Dean. She took his pulse. It was there, but he wasn’t waking up. Emily tried to make him come to his senses, but it didn’t work. Sam, do whatever you have to do. We have to go. Sam’s head turned towards her and he nodded. He closed his hand and Alastair screamed. “I’m waiting.”

“It’s not us, we’re not doing it!” said Alastair. “Lilith is not behind this. She wouldn't kill seven angels. Oh, she'd kill a hundred, a thousand.” Sam opened his hand, releasing the pressure on Alastair. The demon caught his breath for a second. “Oh, go ahead. Send me back, if you can.”

“I'm stronger than that now,” said Sam. “Now I can kill.”

Emily reached the car before Sam, who was carrying Dean, and started the engine. She drove to the hospital begging herself to keep it together just long enough. Apart from the various injuries Alastair had given her, Emily was feeling the game face and adrenaline come down, leaving space for panic and fear. She dropped Sam off in front of the ER and turned the corner. She was supposed to park and follow Sam and Dean into the hospital, instead she stopped at a red light and never drove off. Her hands started shaking so much she could barely keep them closed around the steering wheel. Tears streamed down her face. Dean could barely keep it together in there, of course she was going to explode. She was just lucky she could keep herself out of it until then. As the sobbing shook her body, someone appeared next to her. It was Ramiel.

“You shouldn’t stay here in the middle of the road. It’s not safe,” he said. Emily didn’t turn. She tried to dry her face, but more tears streamed down her cheeks. “Don’t worry, amore, I’ll take care of it.” He touched her forehead with two fingers and the street went silent. Emily looked up and she was back in the flower field.

“Where…” she looked around. “What…”

“Don’t worry. You’re sleeping,” he said. Emily frowned. “I brought you to the hospital. The doctors will think you passed out.”

“Oh.” Emily wrapped herself in her arms and looked around. “Thanks, Ramiel.” Emily sat down in the field and tried to hold her breath to conceal her sobbing. Ramiel sat next to her.

“Talk to me, amore, tell me what's wrong,” he said, wrapping one arm around her shoulder. Emily shook her head and dried her face. “Don't be scared.”

“I- I-” Emily's body was shaken by a sob. “I can't do this, Ramiel-” she said. “I- I- Every time I try to help- somehow I fuck it up!”

“Emily, you didn't do anything wrong…” he said. Emily shook her head.

“I can't- I just can't-” Emily brought her knees to her chest and hid her face in between them. Ramiel’s hand moved up and down Emily's back as she cried. “Why am I even here?! I was a normal kid! I had- I had perfect GPAs and- and- WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE MY LIFE TO BE RUINED?!” Ramiel remained silent. “I can't do this- I'm not  a hunter, I- I'm weak!”

“Amore, ” said Ramiel. “Life was unfair to you. In just the last five years you have overcome more obstacles than most people will in a lifetime.” Emily sniffed and dried her face. “But this made you strong.”

“Honestly?” she said, suppressing a sob. “I don't care about being strong, I- I want to have my old, not scary- not ruined life back!”

“I know, amore, I know.” Emily wrapped her arms around her knees and stood there until her breath had gone back to normal. The flower field was completely silent, so silent it felt weird, but the smell was real. And calming. And Ramiel seemed to know exactly what to do to calm her down. Emily closed her eyes. She took a deep breath.

“Ramiel?” she asked. The angel turned towards her. “So, you gave me a nickname.” Ramiel frowned. He adjusted himself on the ground. “Cas has a nickname. What’s your nickname?” she asked. Ramiel looked at her, confused. “Just trying to find an excuse to stay,” she said.  “And I don't want to go back to the real world where everything sucks.” She stopped talking and thought of a nickname. “Ram? Rami?” She frowned. “Nah, it sounds like you're from a Bollywood movie. What about… Miel?”

“It's close to Miele,” said Ramiel. “It's Italian for honey.”

“I thought amore for Italian for honey,” Emily said. Ramiel smiled.

“Miele is honey as in the food,” he explained. “And amore is honey as in… a loved one. Like a partner or a kid.” Emily looked away.

“So… Do you like Miele?” she asked.

“I do,” said Ramiel. “Are you feeling better?” he asked.

“Yeah.” said Emily. She let go of her legs and stood back up. “Thanks, Miele. You really were my guardian angel tonight.”

Emily woke up in a hospital bed before she could say or do anything else. Ramiel was nowhere to be found. She looked around and saw an IV drip going straight into her arm. In the bed next to hers, Dean. Sam was asleep in a chair in the corner of the room. She sat up.

“Sam,” she called. Her brother opened his eyes, alarmed. He drew a breath of relief when he saw she was awake.

“Hey,” He cleared his voice. “How you feeling?” he asked.

“Not bad,” she said, turning the IV label towards her. “But I guess I am pumped full of meds to make me stop screaming?” He nodded.

“They found you half asleep right in front of the ER,” he said. “When they tried to help you up, you started  screaming and attacking people.” Emily sighed. “So yeah, big time you're sedated.”

“That tracks,” she said. “Ramiel brought me here, I was about to lose it at a red light.” Sam nodded. “How's Dean?”

“Blunt force trauma and a lot of medical words I can't pronounce but he'll be fine,” said Sam. Emily sighed. “What happened in there?”

“I- I don't know, it's… it's complicated,” she said. “I… I helped him.” Sam sat straighter in his seat. “With Alastair.”

“Emily…” Sam sighed. “Is this about what I said?” he asked. “You had to know that's not what I meant.” Emily huffed. “If I didn't know any better I would think you were trying to get hurt,” said Sam. There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Emily rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, thank god you do know me better than that.” said Emily. She crossed her arms, careful not to bump the IV. “Is Dean sleeping or under?” She asked. Sam cleared his voice.

“Sleeping,” he said. “Dude, I got doctors running behind me trying to get me to commit you to the psych ward.” Sam stood up. “And honestly, I am not sure they're wrong.”

“What are you talking about?” Emily rolled her eyes. “I just wanted to help!”

“Dude, you've been having panic attack after panic attack, your arms are like- like- and- and- you went through a whole lot of shit! It's okay if you-”

“Sam!” Emily scoffed. “I don't need to be committed to psych!” Sam shook his head.

“Are you trying to tell me you're fine? Because that's not believable!” he said. “What you did tonight- it's bordering on suicide. And you know it.” Emily opened her mouth, but Sam didn't let her speak. “And don't try to deny it.” Emily shook her head and fell back on the pillow.

“I just wanted to help,” she whispered.

“Are you guys done?” asked Dean with a groan. Emily and Sam turned towards him. “I'm trying to sleep.”

“How you feeling?” asked Sam. “You okay?”

“I kinda feel like a monster truck ran me over, but… I'm alive. I guess.” He turned towards Emily. “What happened to you?”

“Went crazy again,” she said with a shrug. “High on diazepam,” Dean huffed.

“That's not what I was asking,” he said. “How did you get out of there?”

“Oh,” Emily looked at Sam. He looked away. “We… Ramiel…”

“You used your powers, didn't you?” asked Dean. Emily didn't answer. “Dude!”

“I- I-”

“It wasn't her, I did it.” said Sam. “I used my powers to kill him. Alastair is dead.” Dean didn't have time to answer. “She saved your ass, man! If she wasn't there you'd both be dead now!”

“Wh-”

“I know what you think of these powers, but they saved you,” said Sam. “And you should at least-”

“Sam, enough,” said Dean. “I get it.” Sam shook his head. “Can you give us a moment?” asked Dean. “Matter of fact, go home, okay? Sleep it off. You look terrible.”

“Why-”

“Sam.” Dean gave Sam a look. He took his jacket and marched out of the room, upset. Dean didn't speak for a long minute. Emily rolled a strand of hair between her fingers, staring silently in front of her. “Why?” he asked. Emily closed her eyes and drew air in. She didn't know what to answer.

“I- I don't know,” she whispered, staring at the hair. “I- I- I guess I wanted to help you.” Dean sighed. He took a while to answer again.

“Well, thank you,” he whispered. “I don't know what would have happened if you weren't there to back me up.”

“All I did was fuck it up,” said Emily. “I didn't… I couldn't even kill him.” Dean stared in front of him.

“You think he was telling the truth? About the first seal?” he asked. Emily nodded.

“It matches the lore,” she whispered. “I- I don't see why he would lie.” Dean's breath grew heavier. Emily saw his hand tapping on the mattress. “Dean, you didn't know. It's not your fault.” He turned towards her, surprised. “Yeah, Sam told me. You didn't know it was me. And you didn't know it was the first seal. None of this is your fault.”

“Easy for you to say.” Dean shook his head. She turned towards Dean and saw him dry his face. Emily took her IV drip and took it off its hanger. She slipped out of bed and sat on the chair next to Dean's. She hung her IV with his.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“I can go back to bed if you want,” said Emily. Dean shook his head and rolled his eyes. Emily dozed off a few minutes later, lulled by the rhythmic sound of the heart monitors. She woke up feeling stared at. It was Castiel.

“Jesus, man,” she whispered, rubbing her eyes. “You gotta know better than to watch people sleep.” The angel didn’t answer. “Where’s your Italian boyfriend?”

“Ramiel has been missing,” he said.

“No comeback on the boyfriend thing?” Emily released a huff. “Damn.” Dean’s eyes shot open. He tried to sit straighter, but groaned in pain and fell back into the bed. “Okay, Cassie Ferguson, what happened down there? Is it really that hard to manage a devil’s trap?” said Emily.

“It was not our fault. Uriel was working against us.” said Castiel. Dean slowly sat up.

“No, Cassie, that is also your fault. Uriel is your boss! You're the one who followed him blindly.”

“He was my boss,” said Castiel. “He's dead.” Emily crossed her arms. “I believe Ramiel is responsible for killing him. I went there to do it myself, but it was too late.”

“Is that why he's not here?” asked Emily. Dean brushed his face.

“I don't know,” answered Castiel. Emily rolled her eyes. “I'm sorry, Emily, I do not know what happened to Ramiel. He is not my responsibility, and you aren't either.” said Castiel.

“Jesus, Cassie, relax.” Emily stood up and dragged herself back to her bed. “You know you don't have to be a pain in the ass, right? You could-”

“I was not sent down here to please you,” said Castiel. “I-”

“Okay, shut up-” said Dean. “Both of you.” Emily rolled her eyes and pulled out her IV. Dean shook his head. “Fuck- Cas, what the hell happened?”

“Uriel was working with hell. It was a setup.” said Emily. Castiel remained silent. Dean sighed.

“Cas, is it true?” The angel nodded. “So, did- did I break the first seal?” he asked. “Did I start all this?” Castiel looked away.

“Yes,” he said. Emily stared at her hands as Dean’s breath grew shaky. “When we discovered Lilith's plan for you, we laid siege to hell and we fought our way to get to you before you-”

“Jump-started the apocalypse,” concluded Dean. “But you were too late, why didn't you just leave me there, then?”

“It's not blame that falls on you, Dean, it's fate,” said Castiel.

“Wait, so- you got him topside to stop him from breaking the first seal?” Castiel nodded. “What about me?”

“I don’t know,” answered Castiel. “That was not part of my orders. My orders were to save Dean.”

“Well, whatever your friends want, you’re screwed, Cas,” said Dean. “I can’t do it, it’s too big.” Emily frowned. She tortured a strand of hair between her fingers, staring at the white wall in front of her. In the corner of her eye, she saw Dean's fingers tap on the very edge of the mattress. “I guess I'm not the man either of our dads wanted me to be.” Dean continued. “Find someone else. It's not me.” Castiel looked at Dean in silence. If Emily didn’t know any better and was sure Castiel didn't have any emotions, she would have guessed he was sad. He disappeared with a wing fluttering sound. Dean sniffled. He dragged his hand across his face. Emily didn't dare to move. She was almost sure that by Sam's standards she should have stood up and sat next to Dean, but it didn't feel right. She stared at the wall in front of her and sighed, the hair from the strand she had been rolling between her fingers breaking and falling on her lap. She was almost positive Dean was crying. She could see him dry his face in an attempt to hide it. Acknowledging was just going to make it worse. So, she did nothing.

Someone gets hurt

From Mean Girls - The Musical

Emily opened her eyes, someone screaming on the other side of Bobby's house. She covered her head with her pillow and tried to go back to sleep, ignoring the exact words that were being yelled. But the fighting was getting closer. Emily let go of the pillow. It was Dean. And Bobby.

“Dean, calm down!” yelled Bobby.

“Don't tell me to calm down! They're practically the same person, if he's in it, she's too!”

“You don't know- Dean, stop!” Emily's door opened so hard it almost fell off one of the hinges. Dean entered and dragged Emily out of bed.

“Hey- let me go!” Emily yelled. She tried to set herself free, but Dean's hold was so strong it had already cut the circulation to her arm. “Dude!”

“Shut up,” said Dean, dragging her down the stairs. “Just- you better hope Sam turns out fine-”

“What are you talking about?!” asked Emily. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Dean!” called Bobby. Dean ignored him and dragged Emily down one more flight of stairs, in front of the panic room.

“Dean, what-”

“I said shut up!” Dean opened the panic room and pushed her inside. Before she could try to get out, he closed it. She put all her weight on the door, but it wouldn't budge. Dean turned around and left. When Bobby tried to open the door, Dean pushed him away from it. The fighting resumed, almost inaudible to Emily. She turned around and put her hands on her waist, her eyes filling up with tears. That was it. Dean was out of fucking control.

“What the hell are you doing in here?!” Sam's voice got Emily's attention. “Wh-”

“What the hell's going on?!” asked Emily. “Why are you here?! Why am I?” Sam didn't answer. “What did you do?!” Sam shook his head and paced away from her. “No, Sam- tell me what the hell's going on! Because whatever it is, Dean thinks I had something to do with it!” Sam looked at her and remained silent. “What?”

“Shit-” Sam whispered. “Powers don't work in here.”

“Just- Just tell me!”

“So, you remember what I showed you, with Ruby?” Asked Sam, crossing her arms. Emily nodded. “Well it's… it's not my natural powers. I've been- I've been making them stronger.” Emily frowned.

“Are you… on drugs?” she asked. Sam shook his head. “Okay, so what?”

“It's demon blood.”

“I know where our powers come f-”

“No, Emily- I've been drinking it,” said Sam. Emily’s eyes widened. Surely, she heard it wrong. “I’ve been drinking demon blood.” Emily brushed a hand through her hair.

“And why does Dean think I have something to do with it?” she asked. Sam shook his head. “Jesus Christ, Sam- what is wrong with you? No, actually- what is wrong with both of you?!” Sam crossed his arms. “Lying? Hiding shit? You-”

“Yeah, because you're a saint, right?” said Sam. He looked away, throwing his hands in the hair. Emily scoffed. “Sorry, sorry- look…” Emily crossed her arms. “The blood makes me stronger. I- I can take on Lilith now!” Emily shook her head.

“Is that what this is about?” she asked. “You wanted to be stronger than me? You really couldn't live your life knowing I was better at something?”

“What?” Sam rolled his eyes. “No! This isn't about you, Emily! I'm trying to save the world!”

“By doing drugs?” she asked. ‘You- You do realize Ruby turned you into a junkie, right?”

“It's not-”

“Oh, don't start!” Emily rolled her eyes. “Yes it is like drugs! You drink the blood, you feel stronger. The blood wears off, you want to feel that power again, so you drink more!” Sam looked away. “Am I wrong?”

“No, no- you got it wrong!” Emily tried to speak, but Sam talked over her. “I don't just feel stronger, I am stronger! How do you think I took down Alastair?”

“Oh, you're stronger?” she asked. Her blood felt like it was boiling as she clenched her fist. “Let's test this strength, shall we?!” Emily punched Sam. He fell backwards. “Where is this strength you're talking about?!” asked Emily.

“GO ON! PUNCH ME IF IT MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER!” Sam screamed, standing back up. “But once I’m out of here, I will get Lilith and I will kill her. Not you! Me!” Emily punched him again. Sam took a step back but didn't react.

“Dean was right.” said Emily. Sam frowned. “About the powers, about- about us!” Sam crossed his arms. “What you're doing- it's- it's not… human.”

“So you're saying I'm a monster?” asked Sam. Emily looked away.

“I'm saying you chose to become one.”

The following morning, Emily woke up still in the panic room, still cold and still angry. Sam, however, had a completely different mood. He was sitting on his bed, shivering and looking around, scared and confused.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked. “Why do you look like a junkie in withdrawal?” Sam didn't react. “Sorry, stupid question. You probably are in withdrawal.” Again, Sam didn’t seem to hear her. He stood up and walked to the door, trying to open it, his hands shaking visibly. “Sam, come on- What are you doing?” He turned towards her, scared. She raised one her eyebrows. Sam didn’t move or answer. He was terrified. He slowly started walking back towards his bed and laid down, shaking.

“Don’t touch me!” said Sam, lying on his bed. “I said-” Emily dragged her hands across her hair.

“Sam, I'm not touching you.” she said, trying to take a step towards him. Sam tried to hit her. “Sam, it’s me!” She stopped his arm and pushed it back down on the bed. He kept staring in front of him, struggling. Soon, the struggle turned into screaming. Emily slowly backed away. Hallucinations. That's what it was. She walked to the door and tried to get Dean's attention.

“Dean!” she called. “Dean, come down here!” Nothing moved. “DEAN!”

It had been hours. Sam had been screaming nonstop. Emily covered her ears with her hands and let tears stream down her face. Sam couldn't see them anyway, there was no point in hiding. She would have given anything for it to stop. To have a way to help him. How could Dean just stay away? Go on about his day while Sam screamed like that? But then, just how he started, Sam stopped screaming. He caught his breath, looking around. Was it over?

“Sam?” she asked. Sam sat back up and checked himself. He touched his arms, his face.

“I'm losing my mind,” he said. He turned towards Emily. “What do you want?!” he asked.

“Wow, Jesus- Sorry.” Emily rolled her eyes. There was something weird about how Sam was looking at her. He was looking at her her, he was just looking in her direction.

“I tried, I did,” said Sam. Emily sighed. He was still hallucinating. “It didn’t pan out that way.” Emily stood up and Sam followed her with his eyes. “Look- they killed Jessica.”

“Now, this is just fucking great,” said Emily.

“I know, I'm sorry,” said Sam. “I am.”

“Like hell you are,” Emily whispered. “Why did you do this, Sam?” she asked.

“But life doesn’t turn out the way you thought when you were 14 years old,” Sam said. He dried his face. “We were never going to be normal, we were never going to get away.” Emily snapped her fingers in front of Sam. It was like she didn't see her at all, but still, somehow, saw her. He followed her with his eyes, he just… couldn't see her. Emily had no idea who she looked like instead. “Grow up.” Sam sniffled and stood up from his bed just to sit in front of it, right under the fan that brought air in and out of the room. He looked at a water bottle that laid next to a bookshelf. Emily kicked it his way.

“Thank you,” he muttered, exhausted.

“You’re-” Sam’s eyes shot back up at her immediately, once again scared and upset. ”...welcome.” Emily sighed. He was hallucinating again.

“Mom?”

“Definitely not,” Emily pushed herself away from the wall. Sam didn't follow her with his eyes, but kept staring at an indefinite point in front of him.

“Let’s hear it. Go ahead.. You’re disappointed,” he said  

“That’s accurate,” Emily knew it was like talking to herself, but answering him felt a little less weird than him just talking to his hallucinations.

“You never thought I’d turn out this way.”

“Also, accurate,” said Emily. “Definitely not where I thought we would have been.”

“I’m a piss-pure excuse for a son.” Sam dried his face. Emily walked around his bed and grabbed a pen off a table.

“Now, that’s something dad would say,” she said. She tapped the pen on her head.

“You’re heart is broken. Am I close?” asked Sam.

“Jesus, Sam- that's a sad conversation to have with your mother.”

“...but, Dean-” said Sam, getting interrupted by someone Emily couldn't hear.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” she said. Sam remained silent for a long time. Emily played with the pen, her eyes lost on the floor in front  of her.

“For revenge?” said Sam. Emily didn’t answer.

“What's in me, mom, it's- What if it's stronger than me? Look at me. What if Emily's right?”

“Oh trust me, I am,”  said Emily. “This is low, even for me. A new level of fucked up.”

“Even if it kills me,” said Sam. Emily swallowed. She walked all the way back in front of him. Yeah, that was enough.

“Sam.” she said. “Snap out of if- Sam!” Emily shook Sam by his shoulders. He looked at her, startled. On his neck, a vein started changing color, becoming black. Emily let go of Sam. He fell on the ground, twitching. “Sam?” A force dragged her away from where she was standing and slammed her against the wall with brute force. She lost consciousness for a couple of seconds, and when she came back, she flew to another wall, face first. She tried to protect herself with her hands, but felt her wrist crack as she landed on it. The door to the panic room opened and Dean and Bobby rushed to Sam to restrain him to the bed. Emily fell to the floor and massaged her wrist. When she saw Dean was about to close the door again, she rushed and blocked it with her foot.

“Emily-”

“Shut up and listen!” she yelled. “You see that?” She pointed at Sam. “That's what happens if you drink demon blood. Do I look like I did?” Dean looked at Bobby, who nodded. He dragged Emily out of the panic room and sealed the door behind him, Sam's screams getting muffled by the thick metal. In a rush of rage towards Dean, she slapped him across the face using the wrist she’d just broken. She screamed, holding it with her other hand and turning around. Dean massaged his cheek, avoiding her gaze. Then, she walked past him and towards the stairs. Dean grabbed her arm to try and stop her, but Emily shoved it away and used it to punch him. Dean took a step back and looked at her, his fist clenching. “Don't even think about it,” she said. “You deserved that!” Dean touched his jaw and groaned, in pain. “I'm going to go smoke. Leave me alone.” Emily rushed out of Bobby's house. She felt voices behind her, Dean and Bobby arguing, but ignored them and slammed the door behind her. She opened the glove compartment of the first car on the right, where she kept some cigarettes, and lit one up. A couple of seconds later, Dean came out of the house. Bobby followed him, but while Dean walked towards Emily, Bobby didn't. He laid against his door. “What the fuck do you want?” asked Emily.

“Can we talk?” asked Dean. Emily remained silent. She gestured to keep going. Dean sighed. “I- I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have locked you down there.”

“Big time you shouldn't have,” said Emily. She stared at a car a few feet behind Dean.

“Did you know?” he asked.

“No,” said Emily. Dean looked at her and sighed. He looked away. “I'm serious.”

“I know- Just- If he didn't tell you either- it's…”

“It's bad? Yeah.” said Emily. “How did you find out?”

“Remember when- when Cas told us we needed to meet?” answered Dean. “You didn't want to come, you- you had the flu.” Emily nodded.

“Yeah,” she said.

“There was a fight, he- he killed one of the demons and then I turned and he- well he was doing it.” Dean crossed his arms. “Look, I freaked out, okay? I- I thought you were in it too, and- and-”

“And you chose to be an asshole?” said Emily. “I know you like to think all of your actions are justifiable by- I don’t know- what you went through or whatever, but they're not, Dean! So stop trying to make excuses.” Emily dropped the cigarette on the floor and stepped on it. She walked past Dean and towards the house. Bobby looked at her approaching. He stopped her from going inside the house.

“Seriously?” the man said, nodding at something behind her. Emily turned. Dean was slowly sitting on the hood of a car, his chest heaving up and down as he tapped his fingers on the metal right next to his thigh.

“What?” asked Emily, scoffing. Bobby remained silent. “What do you want?”

“Dean's trying, sweetheart,” said Bobby. Emily crossed her arms and looked away from Dean.

“Well, it's too little too late,” said Emily. Bobby sighed. “I'm tired of pretending he didn't do what he did. I don't care if he cries and- and- I- All I can think about is that if that was me,” she pointed at Dean. “He'd have yelled at me to stop, called me a kid and complained I couldn't keep my shit together.”

“Emily-”

“No, Bobby, he- I'm sorry, okay? But I can't.” Emily pushed through Bobby and walked back inside. She locked herself in her room with every intent of sleeping, but couldn't. Her conscience was keeping her awake. Maybe she could have helped. Maybe forgetting everything he'd done was the right thing to do. Later that night, she heard the floor creaking, the shadow of two boots stopping in front of her bed, then walking away. Dean's room’s door opened and closed and the walls creaked as he probably leaned against it. Emily stared at the paper thin wall that divided their rooms. The faint sounds of Dean crying went through the walls. She sighed. When she moved, the floor creaked and the crying stopped.

“Dean,” she called. Nothing. “Are you okay?”

“Go back to sleep,” said Dean's voice through the wall.

“Dean-”

“I said go back to sleep!” he yelled. Emily sighed. She heard the door open and close again and Dean's steps got farther and farther away. She heard faint talking for a few minutes, then someone knocked on her door.

“Bobby, I'm not in the mood to be lectured again!” she said, standing up. As she opened the door, Dean was behind it. “Oh. Sorry.”

“Sam's gone.” he said.

“What?” Emily frowned. Dean crossed his arms.

“All the devil's traps are busted. He- he ran.” answered Dean. Emily followed him downstairs.

“You think he's with Ruby?” asked Emily. Dean didn't answer. He walked in the living room and took Sam's laptop off the table. He handed it to Emily.

“Do your thing.” he said, before leaving the room. Emily stared at the point where Dean had disappeared and sighed. She sat down on the couch and opened the laptop.

“You got something?” Dean asked, walking back in the room, hours later. He was drying his hair with a towel and he was wearing clean clothes.

“Yeah, while you were doing your beauty routine I hacked the police database for stolen cars,” said Emily. “Any idea what Sam would take?” Dean gestured at her to give him the laptop. He scrolled down for a while, then stopped.

“Here,” he said. Emily walked behind him.

“An Escalade with custom rims?” asked Emily. “Are you sure? That’s like going around with a neon sign!” Dean nodded.

“Trust me,” he said. “Grab your stuff, we leave in five.” Emily went downstairs to take her backpack, which she packed with a couple of clean overalls, and then rushed outside the house. Dean was already turning on the engine. “I got Bobby on radio duty, he will call as soon as he picks something up about the Escalade.”

“Okay,” said Emily, kicking away her shoes. Dean glared at her for a moment before driving off. She didn't dare look in his direction and he remained silent. Once Bobby called, directing them to a town a couple of hours away, Dean sighed.

“Are you okay?” he asked. Emily looked at him and scoffed. “Emily, come on- I'm trying to have a normal conversation.”

“Not interested,” said Emily. Dean shook his head. The car accelerated, leaving a trail of black smoke behind it, and nobody spoke for the rest of the way.

They scanned all the motels around the town until Dean pointed to the one he thought Sam would have been hiding in.

“We go in, kill Ruby, bring back Sam,” he said. “We’ll take care of Ruby first.” Emily nodded. She hid with Dean in the room next to Sam and Ruby's, waiting for him to leave so they could get to the demon. She looked at Sam disappear behind a corner and Dean gestured at her to follow him. She silently loaded her gun, knowing it wasn't any use against a demon. She was gonna have to use her powers. Dean entered the room first. Ruby was packing her bag, ready to leave. She looked up at them, surprised.

“Housekeeping,” said Emily. Ruby took a step forwards, but Emily used her powers to slam her against the wall behind her. Dean took a step towards the demon, holding the knife Ruby herself had given them, when something hit Emily's head. Her vision went double, the pain on the side of her head sharp, and Ruby fell down on the floor. In the few seconds it took Emily to stand backup, Sam had walked past her, throwing away the piece of wood he'd used to hit her, and had gone to separate Ruby and Dean.

“Just take it easy,” Sam said, holding Dean back. Sam didn't look as much in pain as he used to when he was in the panic room. And that could only mean one thing.

“You did it again?! Seriously?!” asked Emily. Dean looked back at her. “What is-”

“Sam, what the hell's going on?!” asked Dean.

“Actually,” said Sam. “I'm glad you guys are here, we need to t-”

“No, there's gonna be no talking! You've had your chance to talk!” said Emily. “She dies. Now!” Just as Emily moved her hand to slam Ruby against the wall again, Sam moved in the way. He barely took a step back. “Really?!”

“Get out of here,” Sam whispered to Ruby. She left the room as he shielded her with his body.

“Sam, can't you see what she's doing?” asked Dean. “What’s going on with you?!”

“It's not what it looks like,” said Sam. “if you guys let me explain-”

“No!” yelled Emily, taking a step towards Sam. “She’s drugging you and then leaving you looking for another hit!” she said. “She’s poisoning you!”

“We’re looking for Lilith, okay? We-” Emily slapped Sam across the face. Dean dragged her away a few steps. Sam massaged his cheek and looked at her, angry.

“You believe her?” asked Emily, pointing at Ruby. Sam didn’t answer. “You believe her, but not me?” Sam sighed. “Can’t you see she’s manipulating you into taking distances from your family? This is manipulation 101, Sam! You know better than-”

“You’re wrong!” said Sam. Emily tried to push past Dean.

“I’m not!” Emily shoved Dean’s hands away. “Sam, we’re trying to help you here, okay? Come back with us so we can talk about it.” she said.

“No, listen-” said Sam. “We’ve got a lead on a demon close to Lilith. If you come with us, we can get to her. This can be all over.” Emily looked at Dean.

“You think this is a real lead?” he asked.

“I’m sure,” said Sam. Dean crossed his arms. He looked back at Emily for just a moment.

“She’s not coming,” said Emily. “We go- us three.” Sam sighed.

“I can’t,” he said. Emily took another step towards him, but Dean held her back. “I need her to help me get to Lilith, I can’t-”

“Alright, you know what?” Dean let go of Emily and turned around. He brushed his face with his hand. “No. You’re not the one who’s going to kill Lilith, okay?” he said.

“Why not?” Sam scoffed. “Because the angels think it’s you?” he said. “Or Emily? Have you seen yourselves lately?” Emily shook her head. “You can’t even stand in the same room, and you’re supposed to save the world? Together?”

“At least I’m not a fucking junkie!” said Emily. Dean turned and scowled. “At least I can still function without being all coked up by my girlfriend!”

“You think I can’t do this?” asked Dean. Sam shook his head.

“You’re not strong enough,” he said. “Look, I’m being practical here-”

“Practical?” said Emily. “You’re being a dick!”

“I’m doing what needs to be done!” Sam answered. Emily was about to talk, but Dean turned around her and gave her a look that said ‘shut the fuck up’, so she rolled her eyes and stopped talking.

“Sam, you’re not gonna do anything. Come back with us.” he said.

“Stop bossing me around, Dean!” said Sam, so nervous his neck seemed to twitch. “Look. My whole life, you take the wheel, you call the shots, and I trust you because you are my brother.” Emily shook her head. Dean pinched his nose and turned back around to look at Sam. “Now I'm asking you, for once, trust me.” 

“No,” said Dean. Sam threw his head back. “No, you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I do!” said Sam.

“That makes it worse!” said Emily. Dean turned towards her.

“Emily-”

“No! I didn’t come all this way just to watch him choose Ruby over us!” she yelled. “So-”  

“Emily, shut up!” “Stay out of this!” yelled Sam and Dean at the same moment. Emily looked at Dean, then at Sam. She bit the inside of her cheek. Dean put his hands on his waist and looked away.

“You see what I mean now?” she said. “The Sam I know wouldn’t yell at me. The Sam I know wouldn’t choose Ruby over us. So who the fuck are you?” Emily asked, trying to keep the tears that were pushing in the corner of her eyes in their place. Sam looked at Dean.

“Go on. Say it,” he said. “I know what you think I am.” Dean shook his head. He swallowed and glared at Emily for just a moment. “Say it.”

“You know what?” said Dean. “No.” Emily crossed her arms. “But just so you know… you walk out that door? I better not see your face again.”

   Someone gets hurt (reprise)

From Mean Girls - The Musical

“Has any of you two been listening to anything I’ve said?” asked Bobby. Emily ignored him. She kept staring at the same chipped piece of wall she'd been staring at for the previous ten minutes. Bobby'd been talking, she hadn't been listening. Sam chose Ruby. He was gone. And if that wasn't enough, the situation between her and Dean had never been more tense before. He locked her in the panic room for no reason and then tried to apologize like it was just nothing at all. Even Bobby was driving her up the wall with all the crap about Dean trying his best and all that other stuff Emily couldn’t hear anymore. She just knew, with Sam gone, things were going to deteriorate even faster, because she only had two things she was sure about: death, and the fact Dean wouldn't live without Sam. He couldn't function. She tested it once and wasn't eager to do it again. So, what to do? Run? Let Dean deal with the impending apocalypse?

“I heard you,” said Dean. Emily stood up, focusing back on the present issue: Sam. “I'm not calling him.”

“We're damn near kickoff for Armageddon, don't you think we got a bigger fish?” said Bobby. Emily shook her head. “Look, I know you're pissed-”

“No, Bobby- we’re- I'm not pissed. I'm angry, I'm- I'm- I don't even think there's a word to describe what I am right now! He chose Ruby! Over us!” she said. Dean looked at her and didn’t say anything.

“I'm not making apologies,” said Bobby. “But he’s your-”

“Don’t even try bringing blood into this mess,” said Dean.

“He’s your brother. And he’s drowning.”

“Bobby,” said Emily, walking to the window. “We gave him a choice. He didn't want us to help him.”

“You know who you sound like?” asked Bobby. Emily shrugged. “Your dad.” Emily rolled her eyes. “When Sam left for Stanford he pulled the same exact coward crap you’re pulling now!” Emily scoffed.

“Bobby, my dad was a lot of things, but a coward?” asked Dean, frowning. Emily dug out her cigarettes and took one out of the box.

“He’d rather push Sam away than reach out to him!” said Bobby. “Are you trying to tell me that's not what you're doing?” Emily opened the window and lit the cigarette up. “You get out of here with that crap!” Emily rolled her eyes, not moving from the window.

“Don't you get it, Bobby?” she said. “Armageddon’s coming. The damned christian Ragnarok. We're not gonna get lung cancer, we're all gonna be dead before then!”

“Emily, throw the damn thing!” yelled Dean. “No one's dying- we're stopping the apocalypse!”

“How?” asked Emily. “Sam is gone. We don't know where Lilith is and based on what Ramiel and Cas told us, she's close to breaking all the seals.”

“Emily, we’re the only ones who can stop this!” said Dean. Emily huffed, hiding her laugh. “What?”

“Dude, you really think we can go against Lilith?” She asked. “Not for nothing but you're drunk, I'm pretty sure I'm one bad thing away from a panic attack and we haven't slept more than two hours a night since we came back from hell, how are we supposed to save the world?” Dean shook his head. “No, seriously!” she said. “Tell me! What's the plan?!”

“So that's just it?!” said Bobby. “You give up?”

“Cry me a river, Robert, I ran out of ideas!” Bobby tried to answer, but Emily went on. “Listen to me, Alastair said demon blood changes people, like- it fucks them up, right?” She took a puff of her cigarette. “You know what that means? That Sam has never been Sam, I've never been me, we- we were born to be fucking monsters, it happened to Sam and it's only a matter of time before it happens to me, too!” she said. “So I'm gonna smoke my cigarette, I'm gonna get fucking drunk and I'm gonna-” As she talked, Dean disappeared. Emily blinked, confused. “What…” Bobby looked at her and crossed her arms. He shook his head. Ramiel appeared exactly where Dean used to stand.

“Cazzo!” he yelled, looking around. Emily frowned. “Where's your brother?”

“He- he just disappeared, what-” Ramiel fixed his shirt and sighed. “Let me guess- Your guys?”

“Oh, Emily, they’re not my guys anymore,” said Ramiel. “I’m on the run.” Emily dragged the cigarette over the window seal and flicked it out the window. Bobby rolled his eyes.

“What the hell's going on, Ramiel?”

“I rebelled, amore. I refused to follow their orders,” said the angel. Emily crossed her arms.

“Do you know where Dean is?” asked Emily. Ramiel looked away and shook his head. Emily raised her eyebrows. “Miele,” she said. Ramiel's eyes softened.

“Sì, sì, you’re right. I do know. But I don’t think it’s wise to go there,” he said.

“Why?”

“Once we get in, they won’t let us out,” he explained. “We’d be stuck with him and Zacharia.”

“So what are we supposed to do?” Emily asked. “I mean, if the angels took Dean there must be a reason- and it's probably a big one.”

“What happened to getting drunk before you inevitably turn into a monster?” asked Bobby, crossing his arms. Emily looked at him and put her hands on her waist.

“What?” she said. “Am I supposed to go out knowing I let both of them die?” Emily frowned and looked at Ramiel. Bobby shook his head. “Why did they take him?” she asked.

“I don't know, amore, I'm sorry.” said the angel. “Nobody tells me anything.”

“What about the- the- angel radio?” she asked. “That girl- Anna- she was able to hear the angels' voices.” Ramiel looked away.

“I'm- I can't hear anything. I'm actually- starting to run out of grace.” Emily frowned.

“That can happen?” she asked.

“If I exhaust myself too much, yes. I've been on the run for weeks now,” said Ramiel. Emily sighed.

“Okay, you know what?” she said. “You should rest. I- I'll think of something.” Ramiel nodded and sat on the couch. “Bobby, can I speak with you?” She pointed towards the door. Bobby followed her out. “What's the plan?”she asked.

“You tell me, Emily, you're the one who was giving a big speech about how it's all lost!” said Bobby.

“Okay, look-” Emily sighed. “I meant what I said- I- I think the demon blood is-”

“Let me stop you right there, sweetheart, the demon blood's not doing anything. To anybody. It gives you powers, sure, but that doesn't make you a monster. It doesn't make you evil. Same for Sam,” said Bobby. Emily crossed her arms and looked away. “You got free will, kid, the important thing is using it right.” Emily dragged her hand through her face, she smirked.

“Who’s doing the big speech now?” she said. Bobby huffed. “Sorry,” she continued. “I- I freaked out. You're right.” She took a deep breath. “Let's go save the world.”

Emily sat next to Ramiel on the couch and opened her laptop. She had to find a way to get to Dean. Or Sam. Or Lilith. Either one of them was fine. Two hours into her research, she looked over at Ramiel, who was sleeping on the other half of the couch. She’d never seen an angel sleep. Was he really sleeping or was he just keeping his eyes closed? Was it just his angel way of copying what humans did? Castiel didn't do it. But then, Ramiel didn't exactly act like other angels. He had an accent, for some reason, no other angel had an accent, and he called her ‘love’ all the time. Could angels have feelings? Maybe. Maybe he just had a huge crush on her and pretending to sleep was his awkward way to flirt.

She knew she should have been attracted to him. He was nice to her, he brought her to the flower field to help her stay calm, he was certainly calmer than any other angel out there. He was kinder than anybody else, actually. He wasn't ugly. Actually, he looked good. But Emily couldn't bring herself to think about him in relationship terms. Sex? Sex would have been fine. But that was it. That was always it for her. All her life. Ramiel woke up a couple more hours later.

“You good?” asked Emily. Ramiel nodded.

“Did you find your brother?” he asked. Emily shook her head.

“No, I- I can't track his phone, it's like he's not on earth or something,” she sighed. “Ramiel, what about Sam?” she asked. The angel shook his head.

“I don't know where Sam is. He's protected from my sight.” he said. Emily frowned. Sam might have been protected, but Emily knew where he was going.

“If I tell you where he is, can you help me get there?” she asked. The angel frowned for a moment before answering.

“Anything,” he said. Emily stood up and walked to Bobby in the kitchen.

“I know how to find Sam,” she said. Bobby looked up from his book. “We need to go to Lilith.” The book closed with a big cloud of dust.

“Okay, sweetheart, I get we're in a last resort situation, but you- you can't go to Lilith. What- what are you going to do?” asked Bobby, confused. Emily sighed.

“I have to hope Sam is also there and he can kill her,” she said. “I'll bring Ramiel for, you know, insurance.”

“No offense, Emily, but I don't think Ramiel is much use against Lilith,” said Bobby. “What if you get there and Sam doesn't?”

“Well, I- I guess I’ll die.”

“Sweetheart-”

“No, Bobby, seriously, what am I supposed to do? Wait it out? Sam's not coming back. Dean's off in angel prison or wherever he is. It's just me. And apparently, I was destined for this or something. So…” Emily shrugged. It was reckless. She knew it. She didn't really have a plan, she was just hoping Sam did. Bobby was right to be worried. He looked at her and shook his head. He sighed and his eyes closed for a moment before he talked again.

“Last time we went to Lilith we used a tracking spell,” he said. “Go get the book.”

Emily stood patiently in a corner of the room, waiting for Bobby to finalize the spell. Ramiel leaned on the wall next to him.

“So, last night on earth, uh?” asked Emily. Ramiel frowned, confused. “You do realize we have around a…” Emily frowned as she did the math in her mind. “zero point zero six percent chance at best of being there with Sam? And in all other cases, we die?”

“I'm aware,” said the angel. “but I trust you will pick the right moment.”

“Why?” asked Emily. Ramiel never answered. He touched her shoulder and in a blink, Emily was in the flower field. “Why are we here?” she asked.

“It's our last night on earth. We might as well spend it in a nice place.” said Ramiel. “We'll go when you're ready. Time won't pass outside, so… take all the time you need.”

“Ramiel, this… this is…” She trailed off. “Thanks.” The angel smiled. Emily wished she'd never had to leave. Ramiel was one of the few people she didn't find hard to be around. Sexual attraction aside, he was quiet, never asked questions and always tried to make her feel better. It was a nice feeling. A feeling she hadn’t really felt in a long time. But in the back of her mind, she knew she had to go. She wanted to find Lilith. She opened her eyes and she was back in the living room. Ramiel pushed away from the wall and walked towards the table where Bobby was preparing the spell.

“I'm ready, Emily,” said the man. Emily walked next to Ramiel. “You good?” Emily nodded. Bobby recited the spell. The pendulum he placed on the table started swinging, his range getting smaller and smaller until it stopped, pointing to where Lilith was.

“That’s...” Bobby trailed off, taking a closer look at the map.

“A random empty road in Kansas?” asked Emily.

“Well, I doubt Lilith is hiding in a roadhouse,” answered Bobby. “The spell should be precise to the street. Let’s take a closer look at that road.” Bobby turned around and took another map from inside a box. He opened it in front of him and Emily and Ramiel walked behind the man to see. “Here.” Bobby pointed to the street. “There’s not much, a convent and a high school.”

“Well, it has to be either one of the other.” Emily walked to her laptop in the other room and brought it back to where the man and Ramiel were waiting. She typed in the name of the convent and started looking for news.

“Got it,” she smiled, proud of herself, after snooping around for a bit, hunched over the now dismantled spell. “In seventy-two the convent was abandoned after a priest killed eight nuns,” she glared at Bobby. “And get this,” she continued, “the priest said a demon named Azazel made him do it.”

“Well, that seems too much of a coincidence to not be the right place,” said Bobby. Emily looked at him and raised her eyebrows. She grabbed her backpack off the floor.

“You ready?” she asked Ramiel. The angel nodded. Emily looked ay Bobby. She sighed and took a step towards him to hug him. “Just in case I don’t get to do this tomorrow,” she said. “Thank you.” Bobby’s hand patted her on her shoulder and then let her go. She walked back to Ramiel and he touched her forehead. When she opened her eyes, she was at the end of a hallway. Her mind was overwhelmed by Sam’s thoughts; it was a mix of anger and fear. Once she could focus on her surroundings, she saw Dean, trying to kick down a large door. When she saw her, he stopped.

“What-” he started to say. She interrupted him immediately, hurrying towards the door.

“Yeah-yeah, what are you doing here, this is not safe- whatever, move!” Before she could do anything, Dean stopped her. “Dean!”

“Emily, Lilith is the final seal,” he said. “Whatever’s going on in here, you don’t let Sam kill her, you got me? Use all the mojo you need!” Emily nodded and with a hand gesture, she forced the door open with her powers.

“Even you have to admit, I'm- I'm awesome!” said Ruby’s voice. She looked around and saw her on the opposite side of the church, behind a column. If she was there, so was Sam. And so was Lilith. Emily charged in the room, ready to fight Lilith, but soon realized she was too late. Lilith’s body was already lifeless, slumped on the altar, blood dripping out of it and onto the floor. She turned to Ramiel and Dean, a couple of steps behind her. Sam was standing next to Ruby. Emily used her powers to throw the demon against a column.

“Wrong,” she said. Sam turned, surprised. “You’re not awesome, you’re a dead bitch.”

Emily, s- Before Sam’s telepathy could finish, she interrupted him by throwing him to the opposite side of the room, where he fell to the ground. Emily walked towards Ruby, taking the knife out of her sleeve. Ruby chuckled. “You think this is funny?” asked Emily.

“Hilarious,” said the demon. “You, Azazel’s pet project, the one that was supposed to be stronger, the one that was really supposed to kill Lilith,” Ruby huffed. “You’ve been my biggest problem all these months!” she said. “You know he almost quit this?” Emily turned towards Sam, who had almost managed to stand back up. She threw him back on the wall. Ruby smirked. “But you know what, bitch?” Ruby laughed. “I fucking won anyway!” Behind her, Dean helped Sam back up. She stopped talking for a moment and clenched her fist. Why was he helping Sam? She frowned, considering if she should have pinned Dean to the wall, too. Ruby broke into laughter. “You feel that, Emily?” asked the demon. “It’s the demon blood pumping through your veins. Maybe you should listen to it.” Emily turned towards Dean and cracked her fingers. “Come on, you know you want to.” Sam and Dean can wait. She thought to herself. One problem at the time.

“I’m sorry,” said Emily, putting her hands on her waist. “Are you done with the villain monologue? Because I’d like to kill you.” Ruby smiled.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said and looked somewhere behind Emily. “He’s coming.” Emily stabbed Ruby in the chest. The demon tried to scream, but no voice came out.

“I don’t care if I’m too late,” said Emily. She extracted the knife and let the body fall on the floor, lifeless. She turned towards Sam. “Now,” she said. Sam tried to speak, but Emily didn’t let him. “You-” Dean stopped her and took the knife out of her hand. “Let me go!” she complained. Dean forced her to turn towards Lilith’s dead body.

“Not now, Emily!” he said. “We need to go!” The blood had formed a circle and was converging into the middle. She looked for Ramiel, but he was nowhere to be found. When the blood stopped moving, everything stood still for a moment and then the blood lit up in a yellow light.  That was it. The apocalypse had started. Lucifer was rising. Dean grabbed her by her overalls and shoved her towards the door. Emily looked at Sam for a moment, then followed Dean. Before she could leave, the light became too bright and she was overwhelmed by white.

Congratulations

From The Hamilton Mixtape

She couldn't see anything, the light shining too bright, and all she could hear was static. That was it: Lucifer was rising and there was nothing she could do about it. The world was going to end, all because she was a minute too late. Everything went quiet. Maybe she was dead.

“Folks, quick word from the flight deck,” said a voice. “We're just passing over Ilchester, then Ellicott City, on our initial descent into Baltimore...” Emily opened her eyes. Plane. She was on a plane. Next to her, a stranger. She stood up, and looked around, nervous. Where were Sam and Dean? With a roaring sound, the plane dropped several feet and she fell back on the seat as the lights went out and the oxygen masks fell from over her head. She looked out the window and saw a bright flash of light erupting from a building to the sky. After falling for almost a minute, Emily had pretty much surrendered to the fact whatever had happened to her, however she arrived on that plane, it was all soon over. She was going to die. But then, the plane stabilized and proceeded to emergency land in Baltimore. Sam and Dean were still missing. Nervous, she went through baggage collection and started dialing Dean's number. Off. She tried Sam's. Off.

She kept walking in the crowd, trying to blend in. She had to get out of there before someone noticed she had no ticket or boarding pass. What if Sam and Dean were still in Kansas? What if they were dead? She tried calling again.

Nothing.

Twenty minutes later she was sitting on a fly of stairs behind the airport, trying not to attract any attention.

Sam and Dean could not be dead, right? Whatever pulled her out of that room must have pulled them out, too. She tried calling again, but nobody ever answered.

“They’re okay,” said a familiar Italian accent behind her. Emily turned. Ramiel was covered in blood, his clothes trashed.

“Jesus Christ, Miele, what happened to you?!” she asked, rushing up the stairs.

“They found me,” answered the angel. “But I ran,” said the angel. Emily swallowed.

“So you didn’t pull me out of that room?” she asked.

“No, it wasn’t me,” he touched a wound on his arm that wasn’t healing itself. “Cazzo,” Emily took a closer look at his wound.

“Wait,” she said and opened her backpack and took out the first aid bag. “Let me see that.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, amore, I will be fine,” said Ramiel. Emily ignored him and turned the arm towards her. She kept it still between her knees and soaked a piece of her t-shirt with some disinfectant. She felt Ramiel's eyes on her, studying every move, every gesture, as she patched him up as best she could.

“How long would it take for you to recharge?” she asked. Ramiel sighed.

“I'm not sure. I've been running low on grace for months now,” said the angel. “I’m afraid a night of rest is not going to fix this.”

“Why don't you stick with us?” she asked. “We can keep you safe, you know?”

“You don't need to do that for me, amore.” Emily sighed and finished wrapping some gauze around Ramiel's arm.

“Let’s find a way to go back home, come on.” She pointed to the airport. Ramiel started walking down the stairs. Emily walked past him and approached the long, slow, car rental line.

“I can’t believe I ran out of minutes now,” said Dean’s voice, a couple of people behind them.

“We were dumb lucky to land before they grounded all flights,” said Sam. “My phone’s dead.” Emily turned around.

”Wait, I got a lost call from her.” Emily’s phone started ringing. The familiar ringtone alerted both Sam and Dean, who finally saw her.  They looked around and moved to Emily’s spot in line, making not one but several old men cuss at them.

“What the hell happened to you?” she asked. Dean looked behind him.

“Later,” he said. “Let’s get out of here first.”

“We’ll stop for gas and food in Cleveland and in Chicago, what do you say?” asked Emily, starting the car. Either Sam nor Dean answered. Ramiel nodded. “I’ll take it as a yes.” She turned on the radio, annoyed. News of hurricanes. Next to her, Dean rolled his eyes and changed stations. More news. On earthquakes. Dean changed stations again. “Just turn it off,” said Emily. Their drives weren't usually chatty. After so many years on the road, they had exhausted every game, every joke, every topic and mostly just hummed to music, read, or talked about the case they would be driving to. So, as they drove back to South Dakota, nobody spoke. Sometimes, someone would try to turn on the radio again, in hopes of finding something that didn’t talk about the world ending, but eventually turned it back off. That was until, while Dean had taken over the driving, Sam spoke.

“Guys, look-” he tried to say. Emily, who was dozing off, woke back up, and Dean turned towards Sam with a sigh.

“Don’t say anything,” he said. Emily frowned. Maybe she didn’t hear it right. “It’s okay.” Nope, heard it right.

“What?!” said Emily, sitting straighter.

“We just gotta keep our heads down and hash this out, all right?” said Dean, looking back at her. Emily scoffed.

“No!” she yelled. “This is not okay, he-”

“Emily, can you not-”

“Absolutely not!” From the backseat, she leaned in between the brothers and looked at Sam. “You fucking jumpstarted the apocalypse because you chose a demon over us!”

“I was trying to do what was right!” said Sam. Emily scoffed again.

“Oh well, then everything’s fine!” she said. “Absolutely- there is no reason to be mad at you, isn’t there?!”

“You think I wanted this?” Sam turned towards her, shutting the book he was reading. “This wasn’t the plan!”

“Jesus Christ, Samuel, we warned you!”  she yelled. “I warned you!”

“You think you're better than me or something?” asked Sam. “I'd have loved to see you in my position!”

“What the hell-”

“Hey, hey!” Dean interrupted them. “Enough, okay? I’m too tired to deal with this.” Emily reached in the front seat to turn on the radio. Dean slapped her hand. “Stay in the seat.”

“What am I, five years old?” Emily tried to lean forwards again. This time, Dean used his right hand to push her back.

“I said stay in the seat!”

“What’s wrong with you now?” she scoffed.

“I guess I’m just a little pissed off, you know- the world is about to fucking end.”

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?!”

“Okay, listen to me,” said Dean, his knuckles whitening around the steering wheel. “Zacharia knew what was happening. And you know what he did? He let it happen.”

“What?” Emily frowned.

“Where do you think I was?” asked Dean. “Zacharia took me.”

“Okay, so? Sure, the angels didn’t stop it, but they sure didn’t do it, either!” Emily looked at Sam. He looked away and didn’t answer.

“Stop!” said Dean. “Just- stop, okay? It doesn’t matter.”

“Seriously?” Emily raised her eyebrows. “Wow, okay,” she leaned back in the seat. “Talk about double standards,”

“You know I can hear you, right?” Dean asked. Emily shook her head and looked away.

Emily slammed the bathroom door, wet hair falling on her back and soaking her t-shirt. Dean, who was cleaning his gun, glared at her for a moment, then went back to his weapon.

“Where’s Sam?” Asked Emily.

“On a food run,” said Dean, not looking up.

“Oh so we’re just letting him walk around free?” Emily scoffed. Dean shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re not even a little mad at him.” He didn’t answer. Emily rolled her eyes and walked towards Ramiel, who was leaning on a wall, silent. “Is it healing?” she asked. Ramiel rolled up his sleeve and Emily moved the gauze.

“Slowly,” said the angel. “I don’t know how long I can stay here, though.” Emily sighed. The door opened and Sam entered. When he saw Emily, he looked away.

“Hey,” he said. He took something out of his pocket and gave it to her. “No way the angels will find us with those. Demons either.” Emily looked at Ramiel and walked to her backpack.

“Really?” asked Dean. Emily fished an old phone from the bottom of her backpack. She threw it to Ramiel.

“You know how to use that, right?” she asked. “In case you need help, since, you know-” Ramiel nodded as she waved the hex bag. She hadn’t seen anything like that before. She turned towards Sam and frowned. “How-”

“Ruby,” he said. Emily bit the inside of her lips and forced a smile out of her.

“Speaking of,” said Dean. “How you doing? Are you jonesing for another hit of bitch blood or what?”

“I-it's weird. Uh-” Sam quickly glared at Emily. ”...tell you the truth, I'm fine. No shakes, no fever. It's like whoever...put me on that plane cleaned me right up.” Emily huffed and shook her head. “I’m telling the truth, okay?”

“I’m sure you are,” she said, closing her backpack. Dean shook his head.

“Look, I’m-”

“It’s fine,” said Dean. “Sam, it’s fine, you don’t have to say anything.” Emily shook her head and took a cigarette out of the pack she’d left on the table. She gestured at Ramiel to follow her and walked out the room, the door slamming behind her. The angel followed silently as she climbed down the four flights of stairs and went out the building. She sat on the hood of a car and lit the cigarette up.

“Are you okay?”asked the angel. Emily nodded.

“Yeah, just…” she sighed. “I can’t believe Dean isn’t mad with Sam.”

“What makes you think he isn’t mad?” asked the angel. Emily frowned. “To me, it looks like he just doesn’t want to start a fight.”

“Oh, cool, so now you’re on his side, too,” Emily said. Ramiel frowned, confused.

“No, I- I’m saying he’s mad, he just doesn’t want to-”

“Yeah, but why? Give me a single reason why!” she snapped, her cigarette hitting the hood of the car and breaking in half. Emily groaned and tried to light it back up, frustrated. Ramiel took the cigarette away from her. “Ramiel!”

“Amore, look at me and tell me what’s bothering you so much,” said the angel. Emily rolled her eyes. “Sam’s your best friend. Aren’t you happy he’s back? And fine?”

“Yeah, of course,” Emily sighed. “But, you know, Sam fucked up. And Dean, he… he doesn’t even seem to care!” Ramiel looked at her and crossed his arms. Emily took a deep breath and looked away. “Look,” she said. “Years ago, something happened and- and I opened the gates of hell.” Ramiel nodded. “And when I did that, Dean put up a fight. A big fight. He, he-”

“Maybe,” said Ramiel. “Maybe he learnt from his mistake.” Emily huffed, trying to hide a smile.

“Dean doesn’t learn from his mistakes. Dean’s an asshole who always thinks he’s right.” The door to the motel opened and Sam walked out. Emily rolled her eyes and shoved a hand in her pocket to take another cigarette. Ramiel shook his head and put a hand in the backpocket of his pants. He handed her a pack of cigarettes. Emily took one out and lit it up. Sam arrived in front of her.

“Can we talk?” he asked. Emily looked away and ignored him. “Come on, please.” Emily glared at Ramiel and sighed.

“I’ll give you two a moment,” he said. Emily tried to say something, but he started walking towards the motel. Emily threw her hands in the hair and scoffed. Sam crossed his arms.

“What do you want, Samuel?” she asked. Sam sighed and scratched the back of his neck.

“I- I- I wanted to say s-”

“Spare me, okay?” said Emily with a scoff. “You made a mess, you clean it up. I don’t want to hear your stupid apologies.”

“I know it doesn’t cut it, but-”

“You’re right, it doesn’t.” said Emily. “I’m tired of paying the consequences of things I didn’t do, okay? You died, I had to pay,” Sam looked away. “You start drinking demon blood? I pay the consequences. In the meantime, every little mistake I made the past seven year- it’s apparently much worse than jump starting the fucking armageddon!”

“Emily-”

“I got slapped, punched, pinned to walls, called names, and for what? Just to see you get away with starting the apocalypse over a demon?” she yelled. Sam didn’t answer. “So you can talk as much as you want, but none of it is going to change the fact this little fuck up you did? Is one hundred percent going to bite me in the ass, not you!”

“You’re right,” said Sam with a sigh. Emily frowned. “Everything you said, you’re right.” He looked away and took a deep breath. “Look, I’m- I’m not asking you to forgive me, okay? I- I- I just thought- I should have listened to you.” Emily shook her head. “And for what it’s worth, I think Dean is trying,” said Sam. “And I know he… he keeps messing up, but he has good intentions.”

“Yeah, right,” Emily rolled her eyes. A girl walked past them and into the motel. “Every single thing you ever said about me and Dean turned out to be crap, so…” Sam huffed, hiding a laugh, and looked away. A few seconds later, his phone rang. He picked up the call.

“Dean? Wh-” he said, frowning. “O-okay, yeah, yeah, I’ll- I’ll be right up.” Sam glared at her and walked back in the motel. Ramiel walked back to where Emily was standing.

“Are you okay?” he asked. Emily nodded and reached in Ramiel’s pocket, looking for the cigarettes. Ramiel grabbed her hand and moved it away. She rolled her eyes. The angel stood straighter and turned around.

“What?” she asked. “What’s going on?”

“I have to go.” Was all Ramiel said before disappearing.

“Where’s Ramiel?” asked Dean, looking around the room. Emily was leaning on a table, thinking back and forth about the piece of information they just received.

“Can we focus?” she asked, rolling her eyes. “Read it to me again.”  

“The Micheal sword is on Earth. The angels lost it,” he read from a piece of paper. “In a castle on a hill made of forty two dogs.” Emily sighed. “It has to be code, right?” asked Dean.  “There’s no way somebody built a castle on top of a hill of dogs.” Emily rolled her eyes and took the piece of paper.

“The Micheal sword is on Earth.” she read again. “In a castle on a hill made of forty two dogs- Dean, are you sure you got this right?”

“That’s what Becky said.” Emily frowned. “I mean, she didn’t exactly look stable to me, but- you know. She said it came from Chuck.”

“Is… Chuck stable?” asked Emily. “Last time we saw him he wasn’t exactly in the best shape.”

“That’s the best lead we got,” said Dean. “But I swear this ‘dogs on a hill’ thing reminds me of something, I- I just can’t figure out what.” Emily sighed and stared at the piece of paper. “By the way, Becky seemed really bummed that you weren’t there,” said Dean. “He asked Sam if you two, and I quote, broke up.” Emily frowned, confused. “Yeah, I don’t know. She was weird.” Someone knocked on their door and Sam opened it to reveal Bobby. Emily smiled.

“Hey,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

“Got you your car back,” he said. “And I brought some of your best friends.” He lifted a heavy looking bag. Emily smiled. “Books. Nice and dusty, just like you like ‘em.”

“Anything on Micheal’s sword?” she asked.

“Let’s find out.” Bobby threw the bag on the floor and opened it. Emily stood up and took a book. Dean did the same. Sam stopped in front of the books and sighed. Emily looked at him, then at Dean, who had also noticed Sam standing still.

“Kid? You all right?” asked Bobby.

Sam, can we not? Sam looked at her and swallowed.

“No, actually-” said Sam. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Sam,” he said.

“Bobby, this is all my fault,” said Sam. “I’m sorry.”

“Sam,” Emily crossed her arms and tried to tell him to stop, if not telepathically, with her eyes. But he looked at her and ignored her.